the augustan reprint society john courtenay a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late _samuel johnson_ ( ) _introduction by_ robert e. kelley publication number william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles general editors william e. conway, _william andrews clark memorial library_ george robert guffey, _university of california, los angeles_ maximillian e. novak, _university of california, los angeles_ associate editor david s. rodes, _university of california, los angeles_ advisory editors richard c. boys, _university of michigan_ james l. clifford, _columbia university_ ralph cohen, _university of virginia_ vinton a. dearing, _university of california, los angeles_ arthur friedman, _university of chicago_ louis a. landa, _princeton university_ earl miner, _university of california, los angeles_ samuel h. monk, _university of minnesota_ everett t. moore, _university of california, los angeles_ lawrence clark powell, _william andrews clark memorial library_ james sutherland, _university college, london_ h. t. swedenberg, jr., _university of california, los angeles_ robert vosper, _william andrews clark memorial library_ corresponding secretary edna c. davis, _william andrews clark memorial library_ editorial assistant mary kerbret, _william andrews clark memorial library_ introduction the eighteenth century was an age addicted to gossiping about its literary figures. this addiction was nowhere better demonstrated than by the countless reflections, sermons, poems, pamphlets, biographical sketches, and biographies about samuel johnson. the most productive phase of this activity commenced almost immediately after johnson's death in december, , and continued into the next century. one item of johnsoniana which seems to have been neglected, perhaps because birkbeck hill did not include it in his _johnsonian miscellanies_, is _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late samuel johnson, l.l.d., with notes_. this poem of three hundred and four lines was written by john courtenay ( - ). first published in the spring of by charles dilly, the poem went through three editions in the same year. its popularity was determined less by courtenay's poetic talent than by public interest in the johnsoniana that flooded the market. courtenay's literary output, though scanty, was diverse; he wrote light verse, character sketches, and essays, including two controversial pieces in support of the french revolution.[ ] it is apparent, however, that for him writing was hardly more than an avocation. despite his notoriety as a controversial member of parliament, as a first-rate wit, and as an intimate friend of boswell, courtenay remains a shadowy figure. references to him occur often in the last volumes of boswell's journal, but few of them are particularly revealing. courtenay evidently never met johnson; indeed, the anonymous author of _a poetical epistle from the ghost of dr. johnson to his four friends: the rev. mr. strahan. james boswell, esq. mrs. piozzi. j. courtenay, esq. m.p._ ( ) censures courtenay for writing about a man whom he did not know. although a member of the literary club, courtenay did not join this group until four years after johnson died. he was proposed on december , by sir joshua reynolds (boswell seconded), and elected two weeks later, on december, during the same meeting at which it was decided to erect a monument to dr. johnson in westminster abbey.[ ] if, then, courtenay did not belong to the johnson circle, he became, shortly after johnson's death, a valued member of the boswell circle. courtenay must have met boswell in the spring or early summer of , about thirteen years after arriving in england from his native ireland in the service of viscount townshend. boswell's first reference to courtenay occurs in his journal under july .[ ] it is clear from this entry that he had met courtenay earlier, but subsequent references indicate that the acquaintance was a fresh one. from the start boswell enjoyed courtenay's company. in the first place, boswell appreciated courtenay's talent in conversation. although he seldom recorded specimens of courtenay's talk, boswell was generous in his praise of his wit. "courtenay's wit," he wrote, "sparkles more than almost any man's."[ ] on march , boswell described him as a "valuable addition" to a meeting of the essex head club which he attended as boswell's guest. "indeed," boswell continued, "his conversation is excellent; it has so much literature, wit, and at the same time manly sense, in it."[ ] an example of his "manly sense" that "struck home" to boswell was courtenay's remark that had johnson been born to three thousand pounds a year his melancholy would have been at greater leisure to torment him.[ ] but there was a greater reason for courtenay's intimacy with boswell. the period following johnson's death was for boswell a time of intense anxiety. by courtenay and edmond malone had become boswell's closest confidants. boswell relished the long walks and the dinners he took with courtenay. throughout his journal he confessed to the therapeutic value of courtenay's company; "i am," he admitted, "quite another man with m. c., malone, courtenay."[ ] moreover, boswell often solicited courtenay's advice in various crises. courtenay, together with malone, helped him out of scrapes with alexander tytler and lord macdonald, induced him to lighten his published attacks on mrs. piozzi and helped make him aware of the merit of her edition of johnson's correspondence, and advised him to cancel some questionable passages in the _life_ on william gerard hamilton. from time to time he also cautioned boswell not to expect political preferment when he did not deserve it. it appears, too, that he took part in the prolonged deliberations over johnson's monument in westminster abbey. concerned that boswell's drinking might impede his work on the _life_, courtenay made him promise to quit drinking from december , to the following march, a promise which, as far as he was able, boswell kept.[ ] courtenay's high spirits and his ability to relieve boswell's melancholy were all the more remarkable because courtenay, with a wife and seven children to support, was poverty-stricken during most of this period. boswell, lamenting the failure of the whigs to provide financial assistance to one of the party's most active members, found courtenay's "firmness of mind ... amazing" under such difficulties.[ ] no doubt courtenay's resolve endeared him to boswell, whose own financial and psychological problems were, of course, a great burden. this is not to say that relations between the two men were always cordial. courtenay was evidently a non-believer, and the two men often differed on religious matters. boswell condemned courtenay's "wild ravings" in favor of the french revolution, and once confessed his deep regret about quarreling with so close a friend on this subject.[ ] they also differed on the question of slavery, and boswell good-naturedly chided courtenay and william windham as abolitionists in his poem, _no abolition of slavery; or the universal empire of love_ ( ).[ ] it is clear, too, that as boswell's depression grew, courtenay's power to brighten his spirits waned considerably. their friendship, nevertheless, seems to have ended on a happy note, for boswell's final mention of courtenay in his journal includes the remark that with courtenay he had spent a "good day."[ ] courtenay's _poetical review_, characterized by donald a. stauffer as an embodiment of the "vice-and-virtue philosophy" in biography, was one of the most spirited pieces of johnsoniana to appear.[ ] the poem begins with disdain, but at line sixty-one reverses direction and becomes vigorously commendatory. courtenay did not attempt to add fresh information about johnson's life and career. consequently, the unfavorable portion of the poem is a conventional catalog of johnson's often publicized foibles and prejudices, just as the favorable section is in part a commonplace survey of his artistic achievement. this contrast, as stauffer remarks, renders courtenay's praise more powerful.[ ] more important, the play between scorn and praise reflects the ambivalence which colors contemporary accounts of johnson. we are now accustomed to the notion of great art as the product of a flawed life. but in the eighteenth century, an age largely devoted to the idea of discreet biography which concealed or minimized the subject's weaknesses, a man like johnson presented formidable problems to the biographer and his readers. although courtenay merely versified material which other writers had discussed in much more detail, his poem is important because it synthesizes the conflicting attitudes towards johnson which prevailed immediately after his death. courtenay, like many others, saw in johnson a powerful mixture of great virtues and vices; and though he is not impartial, he effects, through his honesty, an admirable balance between johnson's strengths and weaknesses. the final forty lines of the _review_ constitute one of the most balanced of all contemporary tributes to johnson as a human being. for the most part, the commendatory section of the poem is an unsystematic tracing of johnson's moral and literary merits. courtenay's rhapsodizing on the _dictionary_, the _rambler_, and the _lives of the poets_ is conventional. clearly, he admired the wide scope of johnson's learning and his ability to communicate his knowledge of men and manners in his writings. but his admiration occasionally betrays him; for instance, in describing the "brilliant school" through which johnson's influence was perpetuated, he overestimated the extent to which reynolds, malone, burney, jones, goldsmith, steevens, hawkesworth, and boswell were indebted to johnson's writings.[ ] usually, however, he was on firmer ground. courtenay was the only writer before boswell to praise johnson's latin verse, a body of poetry virtually ignored by other contemporary biographers and memorialists.[ ] furthermore, he employs footnotes skillfully. though they impede the progress of the poem, they do support poetic statement with factual evidence and explain and amplify certain points made in the verses. the clearest evidence for the care which courtenay took with the _review_ can be found upon examination of his revisions. he made few substantial changes in the second edition, but the third edition contains important revisions. courtenay added ten lines and five footnotes in the final version, and lightened some of the scorn in the first portion by substituting weaker phrases for stronger ones. he also enclosed lines seven through twenty in quotation marks to make it appear that the sentiment expressed therein was not his own, but a judgment he had heard elsewhere. but the most significant revisions are concerned with organization. by transferring segments of certain verse paragraphs to others, he achieves a more unified portrait of johnson. by means of such revision, he forms his general evaluation of johnson's writing into one unit and his comments on individual works into another, where before they had been awkwardly interwoven. courtenay's _review_ did not go unnoticed at the time, though for obvious reasons it was given less attention by the reviewers than the more notorious johnsoniana. extracts from the poem were printed in several magazines. the reviewers were almost unanimous in damning the poem's inelegance, unevenness, and lack of harmony, but reserved praise for the sentiments and candor.[ ] chesterfield's apologist in william hayley's _two dialogues; containing a comparative view of the lives, characters, and writings of philip, the late earl of chesterfield, and dr. samuel johnson_ ( ) protested that courtenay was too kind to johnson. the severest indictment of the review came from the anonymous author of _a poetical epistle from the ghost of dr. johnson_, mentioned earlier, who charged courtenay with poor taste and with belaboring the obvious by proving that johnson was "not quite destitute of brains."[ ] the greatest champion of the _review_ was, of course, boswell. the _life_ is sprinkled with quotations from the third edition, lines in all, mostly from courtenay's commendatory verses. in view of the many published attacks on johnson, boswell must have appreciated courtenay's sentiments all the more. doubtless courtenay's warm praise of the _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ also found favor with boswell.[ ] perhaps boswell's final and least partial judgment of the _review_ was expressed in his letter to james abercrombie of philadelphia dated june . he sent abercrombie a copy of the poem, commenting that "though i except to several passages, you will find some very good writing."[ ] courtenay's _review_, together with several other little known _memorabilia_ concerning johnson, stimulated one of the most energetic and splenetic literary controversies of the late eighteenth century. in addition, the _review_ and pieces like it aroused a considerable amount of useful, if vitriolic, discussion about the art of biography. university of iowa notes to the introduction [ ] see _dnb_. [ ] for the information about courtenay's election, i am indebted to professor james m. osborn of yale university. boswell gives no precise date for courtenay's entry into the club. his first reference to courtenay's membership occurs in his journal entry of january . see _private papers of james boswell_, ed. geoffrey scott and frederick a. pottle (privately printed, - ), xviii, . see also boswell's letter to edmond malone dated december , _letters of james boswell_, ed. c. b. tinker (oxford, ), ii, - . courtenay and other intimates of boswell were called "the gang" by philip metcalfe. see _private papers_, xvii, , ; xviii, . [ ] _private papers_, xvi, . [ ] _ibid._, xvii, . for additional testimony to courtenay's reputation as a wit, see _thraliana_, ed. katharine c. balderston (oxford, ), i, , and james prior, _life of edmond malone_ (london, ), - . [ ] _private papers_, xvii, . [ ] _ibid._, pp. - . [ ] _ibid._, xvi, . "m. c." is mrs. rudd. [ ] see boswell's letters to malone, _letters_, ii, , , and _private papers_, xviii, . courtenay became alarmed over boswell's deepening melancholy, as seen in this passage from his letter to malone of february : "poor boswell is very low, & desperate & ... melancholy mad, feels no spring, no pleasure in existence, & is so perceptibly altered for the worse that it is remarked everywhere. i try all i can to revivify him, but he [turns?] so tiresomely & tediously--for the same cursed trite commonplace topics, about death &c.--that we grow old, and when we are old, we are not young--that i despair of effecting a cure. doctors warren and devaynes very kindly interest themselves about him, but you wd be of more service to him than anyone." quoted from a ms at yale university library by james osborn, "edmond malone and dr. johnson," _johnson, boswell and their circle: essays presented to lawrence fitzroy powell in honour of his eighty-fourth birthday_ (oxford, ), p. . [ ] _letters_, ii, , . boswell tried to negotiate loans for courtenay, and made a successful application to reynolds. see _private papers_, xvii, - , - ; xviii, . [ ] _private papers_, xviii, , , . [ ] see frank brady, _boswell's political career_ (new haven, ), p. , and frederick a. pottle, _the literary career of james boswell, esq._ (oxford, ), p. . [ ] _private papers_, xviii, . this entry is dated march , not long before the journal ends and some thirteen months before boswell's death. [ ] _the art of biography in eighteenth century england_ (princeton, ), p. . [ ] _ibid._, p. . [ ] w. k. wimsatt, jr., in _the prose style of samuel johnson_ (new haven, ), pp. - , argues against the notion that johnson's friends formed such a "school." [ ] boswell praised courtenay's "just and discriminative eulogy" on johnson's latin poems, and quoted it. see _boswell's life of johnson_, ed. g. b. hill, revised l. f. powell (oxford, - ), i, . [ ] see _european magazine_, ix (april ), ; _gentleman's magazine_, lvi (may ), ; _monthly review_, lxxv (september ), . [ ] it should be noted that the attack on courtenay in this poem is the mildest of the four. the famous caricaturist, sayer, included courtenay in a poetic attack on mrs. piozzi appended to his print, _frontispiece to the nd edition of johnson's letters_, published april . see james l. clifford, _hester lynch piozzi (mrs. thrale)_ (oxford, ), p. . [ ] boswell quoted courtenay's compliment in _life_, ii, . [ ] _letters_, ii, . bibliographical note the text of this edition of _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late samuel johnson, l.l.d., with notes_ is reproduced from a copy in the beinecke rare book and manuscript library, yale university. a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late _samuel johnson, l.l.d._ with notes. by john courtenay, esq. the third edition, corrected. man is thy theme; his virtue, or his rage, drawn to the life, in each elaborate page. waller. ----_immensæ veluti connexa carinæ cymba minor._ statius. london: printed for charles dilly in the poultry. m dcc lxxxvi. a poetical review, &c. a generous tear will caledonia shed? her ancient foe, illustrious johnson's dead; mac-ossian's sons may now securely rest, safe from the bitter sneer, the cynick jest.[ ] the song of triumph now i seem to hear, and these the sounds that vibrate on my ear: "low lies the man, who scarce deigns gray to praise, but from the tomb calls blackmore's sleeping lays; a passport grants to pomfret's dismal chimes, to yalden's hymns, and watts's holy rhimes;[ ] by subtle doubts would swift's fair fame invade, and round his brows the ray of glory shade;[ ] with poignant taunt mild shenstone's life arraigns, his taste contemns, and sweetly-flowing strains; at zealous milton aims his tory dart, but in his savage finds a moral heart; at great nassau despiteful rancour flings,[ ] but pension'd kneels ev'n to usurping kings: rich, old and dying, bows his laurel'd head, and almost deigns to ask superfluous bread."[ ] a sceptick once, he taught the letter'd throng to doubt the existence of fam'd ossian's song; yet by the eye of faith, in reason's spite, saw ghosts and witches, preach'd up _second sight_: for o'er his soul sad superstition threw her gloom, and ting'd his genius with her hue. on popish ground he takes his high church station, to sound mysterious tenets through the nation;[ ] on scotland's kirk he vents a bigot's gall,[ ] though her young chieftains prophecy like saul![ ] on tetty's state his frighted fancy runs,[ ] and heaven's appeas'd by cross unbutter'd buns:[ ] he sleeps and fasts[ ], pens on himself a libel,[ ] and still believes, but never reads the bible.[ ] fame says, at school, of scripture science vain, bel and the dragon smote him on the brain;[ ] scar'd with the blow, he shun'd the jewish law, and eyed the ark with reverential awe:[ ] let priestly s--h--n in a godly fit the tale relate, in aid of holy writ; though candid adams, by whom david fell,[ ] who ancient miracles sustain'd so well, to recent wonders may deny his aid,[ ] nor own a buzy zealot of the trade. a coward wish, long stigmatiz'd by fame, devotes mæcenas to eternal shame;[ ] religious johnson, future life to gain, would ev'n submit to everlasting pain: how clear, how strong, such kindred colours paint the roman epicure and christian saint! o, had he liv'd in more enlighten'd times, when signs from heaven proclaim'd vile mortals' crimes, how had he groan'd, with sacred horrors pale, when noah's comet shook her angry tail[ ]; that wicked comet, which will whiston swore would burn the earth that she had drown'd before![ ] or when moll tosts, by throes parturient vext, saw her young rabbets peep from esdras' text![ ] to him such signs, prepar'd by mystick grace, had shewn the impending doom of adam's race. but who to blaze his frailties feels delight, when the great author rises to our sight? when the pure tenour of his life we view, himself the bright exemplar that he drew? whose works console the good, instruct the wise, and teach the soul to claim her kindred skies. by grateful bards his name be ever sung, whose sterling touch has fix'd the english tongue! fortune's dire weight, the patron's cold disdain, "shook off, as dew-drops from the lion's mane;"[ ] unknown, unaided, in a friendless state,[ ] without one smile of favour from the great; the bulky tome his curious care refines, till the great work in full perfection shines; his wide research and patient skill displays what scarce was sketch'd in anna's golden days;[ ] what only learning's aggregated toil slowly accomplish'd in each foreign soil.[ ] yet to the mine though the rich coin he trace, no current marks his early essays grace; for in each page we find a massy store of english bullion mix'd with latian ore: in solemn pomp, with pedantry combin'd, he vents the morbid sadness of his mind;[ ] in scientifick phrase affects to smile, form'd on brown's turgid latin-english style:[ ] too oft the abstract decorates his prose,[ ] while measur'd ternaries the periods close: but all propriety his ramblers mock, when betty prates from newton and from locke; when no diversity we trace between the lofty moralist and gay fifteen--[ ] yet genius still breaks through the encumbering phrase; his taste we censure, but the work we praise: there learning beams with fancy's brilliant dyes, vivid as lights that gild the northern skies; man's complex heart he bares to open day, clear as the prism unfolds the blended ray: the picture from his mind assumes its hue; the shades too dark, but the design still true. though johnson's merits thus i freely scan, and paint the foibles of this wond'rous man; yet can i coolly read, and not admire, when learning, wit and poetry conspire to shed a radiance o'er his moral page, and spread truth's sacred light to many an age? for all his works with innate lustre shine, strength all his own, and energy divine. while through life's maze he sent a piercing view, his mind expansive to the object grew. with various stores of erudition fraught, the lively image, the deep-searching thought, slept in repose;--but when the moment press'd, the bright ideas flood at once confess'd;[ ] instant his genius sped its vigorous rays, and o'er the letter'd world diffus'd a blaze: as womb'd with fire the cloud electrick flies, and calmly o'er the horizon seems to rise; touch'd by the pointed steel, the lightning flows, and all the expanse with rich effulgence glows. in judgment keen, he acts the critick's part, by reason proves the feelings of the heart; in thought profound, in nature's study wise, shews from what source our fine sensations rise; with truth, precision, fancy's claims defines, and throws new splendour o'er the poet's lines.[ ] when specious sophists with presumption scan the source of evil, hidden still from man;[ ] revive arabian tales[ ], and vainly hope to rival st. john, and his scholar, pope;[ ] though metaphysicks spread the gloom of night, by reason's star he guides our aching sight; the bounds of knowledge marks; and points the way to pathless wastes, where wilder'd sages stray; where, like a farthing linkboy, jennings stands, and the dim torch drops from his feeble hands. impressive truth, in splendid fiction drest,[ ] checks the vain wish, and calms the troubled breast; o'er the dark mind a light celestial throws, and sooths the angry passions to repose; as oil effus'd illumes and smooths the deep,[ ] when round the bark the foaming surges sweep.-- but hark, he sings! the strain ev'n pope admires; indignant virtue her own bard inspires; sublime as juvenal, he pours his lays,[ ] and with the roman shares congenial praise:-- in glowing numbers now he fires the age, and shakspeare's sun relumes the clouded stage.[ ] so full his mind with images was fraught, the rapid strains scarce claim'd a second thought; and with like ease his vivid lines assume the garb and dignity of ancient rome.-- let college _versemen_ trite conceits express, trick'd out in splendid shreds of virgil's dress; from playful ovid cull the tinsel phrase, and vapid notions hitch in pilfer'd lays; then with mosaick art the piece combine, and boast the glitter of each dulcet line: johnson adventur'd boldly to transfuse his vigorous sense into the latian muse; aspir'd to shine by unreflected light, and with a roman's ardour _think_ and write. he felt the tuneful nine his breast inspire, and, like a master, wak'd the[ ] soothing lyre: horatian strains a grateful heart proclaim, while sky's wild rocks resound his thralia's name.-- hesperia's plant, in some less skillful hands, to bloom a while, factitious heat demands; though glowing maro a faint warmth supplies, the sickly blossom in the hot-house dies: by johnson's genial culture, art, and toil, its root strikes deep, and owns the fost'ring soil; imbibes our sun through all its swelling veins, and grows a native of britannia's plains. soft-ey'd compassion, with a look benign his fervent vows he offer'd at thy shrine; to guilt, to woe, the sacred debt was paid,[ ] and helpless females bless'd his pious aid: snatch'd from disease, and want's abandon'd crew, despair and anguish from their victims flew; hope's soothing balm into their bosoms stole, and tears of penitence restor'd the soul. nor did philanthrophy alone expand his liberal heart, and ope his bounteous hand; his _talents_ ev'n he gave to friendship's claim,[ ] and by the gift imparted wealth and fame: his mind exhaustless sped its vivid force, yet with unbated vigour held its course; as some fix'd star fulfills heaven's great designs, lights other spheres, yet undiminish'd shines. how few distinguish'd of the studious train at the gay board their empire can maintain! in their own books intomb'd their wisdom lies; too dull for talk, their slow conceptions rise: yet the mute author, of his writings proud, for wit unshewn claims homage from the crowd; as thread-bare misers, by mean avarice school'd, expect obeisance from their hidden gold.-- in converse quick, impetuous johnson press'd his weighty logick, or sarcastick jest: strong in the chace, and nimble in the turns,[ ] for victory still his fervid spirit burns; subtle when wrong, invincible when right, arm'd at all points, and glorying in his might, gladiator-like, he traverses the field, and strength and skill compel the foe to yield.-- yet have i seen him, with a milder air, encircled by the witty and the fair, ev'n in old age with placid mien rejoice at beauty's smile, and beauty's flattering voice.-- with reynolds' pencil, vivid, bold, and true, so fervent boswell gives him to our view. in every trait we see his mind expand; the master rises by the pupil's hand; we love the writer, praise his happy vein, grac'd with the naiveté of the sage montaigne. hence not alone are brighter parts display'd, but ev'n the specks of character portray'd: we _see_ the rambler with fastidious smile mark the lone tree, and note the heath-clad isle; but when the heroick tale of flora charms,[ ] deck'd in a kilt, he wields a chieftain's arms: the tuneful piper sounds a martial strain, and samuel sings, "the king shall have his ain": two georges in his loyal zeal are slur'd,[ ] a gracious pension only saves the third!-- by nature's gifts ordain'd mankind to rule, he, like a titian, form'd his brilliant school; and taught congenial spirits to excel, while from his lips impressive wisdom fell. our boasted goldsmith felt the sovereign sway; from him deriv'd the sweet yet nervous lay. to fame's proud cliff he bade our raphael rise; hence reynolds' pen with reynolds' pencil vyes. with johnson's flame melodious burney glows,[ ] while the grand strain in smoother cadence flows. and you, malone, to critick learning dear, correct and elegant, refin'd, though clear, by studying him, acquir'd that classick taste, which high in shakspeare's fane thy statue plac'd. near johnson steevens stands, on scenick ground, acute, laborious, fertile, and profound. ingenious hawkesworth to this school we owe, and scarce the pupil from the tutor know. here early parts accomplish'd jones[ ] sublimes, and science blends with asia's lofty rhimes: harmonious jones! who in his splendid strains sings camdeo's sports, on agra's flowery plains; in hindu fictions while we fondly trace love and the muses, deck'd with attick grace.[ ] amid these names can boswell be forgot, scarce by north britons now esteem'd a scot?[ ] who to the sage devoted from his youth, imbib'd from him the sacred love of truth; the keen research, the exercise of mind, and that best art, the art to know mankind.-- nor was his energy confin'd alone to friends around his philosophick throne; its influence wide improv'd our letter'd isle, and lucid vigour mark'd the general style: as nile's proud waves, swol'n from their oozy bed, first o'er the neighbouring meads majestick spread; till gathering force, they more and more expand, and with new virtue fertilise the land. thus sings the muse, to johnson's memory just, and scatters praise and censure o'er his dust; for through each checker'd scene a contrast ran, too sad a proof, how great, how weak is man! though o'er his passions conscience held the rein, he shook at dismal phantoms of the brain: a boundless faith that noble mind debas'd, by piercing wit, energick reason grac'd: a generous briton,[ ] yet he seems to hope for james's grandson, and for james's pope: with courtly zeal fair freedom's sons defames,[ ] yet, like a hamden, pleads ierne's claims.[ ] though proudly splenetick, yet idly vain, accepted flattery, and dealt disdain.-- e'en shades like these, to brilliancy ally'd, may comfort fools, and curb the sage's pride. yet learning's sons, who o'er his foibles mourn, to latest time shall fondly view his urn; and wond'ring praise, to human frailties blind, talents and virtue of the brightest kind; revere the man, with various knowledge stor'd, who science, arts, and life's whole scheme explor'd; who firmly scorn'd, when in a lowly state, to flatter vice, or court the vain and great;[ ] whose heart still felt a sympathetick glow, prompt to relieve man's variegated woe; whose ardent hope, intensely fix'd on high, saw future bliss with intellectual eye. still in his breast religion held her sway, disclosing visions of celestial day; and gave his soul, amidst this world of strife, the blest reversion of eternal life: by this dispell'd, each doubt and horrour flies, and calm at length in holy peace he dies. the sculptur'd trophy, and imperial bust, that proudly rise around his hallow'd dust, shall mould'ring fall, by time's slow hand decay'd, but the bright meed of virtue ne'er shall fade. exulting genius stamps his sacred name, enroll'd for ever in the dome of fame. the end. footnotes: [ ] "a scotchman must be a sturdy moralist, who does not prefer scotland to truth." johnson's _journey to the western isles of scotland_. [ ] "the poems of dr. watts were by my recommendation inserted in this collection; the readers of which are to impute to me whatever pleasure or weariness they may find in the perusal of blackmore, watts, pomfret and yalden." johnson's _life of watts_. the following specimen of their productions may be sufficient to enable the reader to judge of their respective merits: "alas, jerusalem! alas! where's now thy pristine glory, thy unmatch'd renown, to which the heathen monarchies did bow? ah, hapless, miserable town!" eleazar's _lamentation over jerusalem, paraphrased by_ pomfret. "before the almighty artist fram'd the sky, or gave the earth its harmony, his first command was for thy light; he view'd the lovely birth, and blessed it: _in purple swaddling bands it struggling lay_, old chaos then a chearful smile put on, and from thy beauteous form did first presage its own." yalden's _hymn to light_. "my chearful soul now all the day sits waiting here and sings; looks through the ruins of her clay, and practises her wings. o, rather let this flesh decay, the ruins wider grow! till glad to see the enlarged way, i stretch my pinions through." _a sight of heaven in sickness, by_ isaac watts. [ ] "he seemed to me to have an unaccountable prejudice against swift.--he said to-day,--i doubt if the _tale of a tub_ was his; it has so much more thinking, more knowledge, more power, more colour, than any of the works that are indisputably his. if it was his, i shall only say, he was _impar sibi_." boswell's _tour to the hebrides_, p. . doctor johnson's "unaccountable prejudice against swift" may probably be derived from the same source as blackmore's, if we may venture to form a judgement from the panegyrick he bestows on the following groundless invective, expressly aimed at swift as the author of _a tale of a tub_, which he quotes in his life of blackmore: "several, in their books, have many sarcastical and spiteful strokes at religion in general; while others make themselves pleasant with the principles of the christian. of the last kind, this age has seen a most audacious example, in the book intituled "_a tale of a tub_." had this writing been published in a pagan or _popish_ nation, who are _justly_ impatient of all indignity offered to the established religion of their country, no doubt but the author would have received the punishment he deserved.--but the fate of this impious buffoon is very different; for in a protestant kingdom, zealous of their civil and religious immunities, he has not only escaped affronts and the effects of publick resentment, but has been caressed and patronised by persons of great figure of all denominations." the malevolent dullness of bigotry alone could have inspired blackmore with these sentiments. the fact is, that the _tale of a tub_ is a continued panegyrick on the church of england, and a bitter satire on popery, calvinism, and every sect of dissenters. at the same time i am persuaded, that every reader of taste and discernment will perceive in many parts of swift's other writings strong internal proofs of that style which characterises the _tale of a tub_; especially in the _publick spirit of the whigs_. it is well known, that he affected simplicity, and studiously avoided any display of learning, except where the subject made it absolutely necessary. temporary, local, and political topicks compose too great a part of his works; but in a treatise that admitted "more thinking, more knowledge," &c. he naturally exerted all his powers.--let us hear the author himself on this point. "the greatest part of that book was finished above thirteen years since, ( ) which is eight years before it was published. the author was then young, his invention at the height, and his reading fresh in his head." and again: "men should be more cautious in losing their time, if they did but consider, that to answer a book effectually requireth more pains and skill, more wit, learning and judgement, than were employed in writing it.--and the author assureth those gentlemen, who have given themselves that trouble with him, that his discourse is the product of the study, the observation, and the invention of _several years_; that he often blotted out more than he left; and if his papers had not been a long time out of his possession, they must still have undergone more severe corrections." _an apology for the tale of a tub._--with respect to this work being the production of swift, see his letter to the printer, mr. benjamin tooke, dated dublin, june , , and tooke's answer on the publication of _the apology_ and a new edition of the _tale of a tub_. hawkesworth's edition of swift's works, vo. vol. xvi. p. . doctor hawkesworth mentions, in his preface, that the edition of _a tale of a tub_, printed in , was revised and corrected by the dean a short time before his understanding was impaired, and that the corrected copy was, in the year , in the hands of his kinsman, mr. deane swift. [ ] _johnson._ "i would tell truth of the two georges, or of that _scoundrel_, king william." boswell's _tour to the hebrides_, p. . [ ] see his letter to lord thurlow, in which he seems to approve of the application (though he was not previously consulted), thanks his lordship for having made it, and even expresses some degree of surprize and resentment on the proposed addition to his pension being refused. [ ] "if (added dr. johnson) god had never spoken figuratively, we might hold that he speaks literally, when he says, "this is my body." boswell's _tour_, p. .--here his only objection to transubstantiation seems to rest on the style of the scripture being figurative elsewhere as well as in this passage. hence we may infer, that he would otherwise have believed in it.--but archbishop tillotson and mr. locke reason more philosophically, by asserting that "no doctrine, however clearly expressed in scripture, is to be admitted, if it contradict the evidence of our senses:--for our evidence for the truth of revealed religion is _less_ than the evidence for the truth of our senses, because, _even_ in the first authors of our religion, it was no greater; and it is evident it must diminish in passing from them to us, through the medium of human testimony."--this question, however, may perhaps be better elucidated by the following anecdote, preserved by mr. richardson, than by a more serious discussion: "mr. pope, who loved to talk of titcum, (one who used to be of the party with him, gay, swift, craggs, and addison, and that set, in his youth,) told us, that gay went to see him as he was dying, and asked him, if he would have a priest; (for he was a papist,) 'no, said he, what should i do with them? but i would rather have one of them, than one of yours, of the two. our fools, (continued he) write great books to prove that _bread_ is _god_; but your booby (he meant tillotson) has wrote a long argument to prove that _bread_ is _bread_.'" _richardsoniana_, p. . [ ] see his conversation with lord auchinleck. boswell's _tour_. [ ] see the first book of samuel, ch. x. [ ] "and i commend to thy fatherly goodness the soul of my departed wife, beseeching thee to grant her whatever is best in her present state." johnson's _meditations_. [ ] "i returned home, but could not settle my mind. at last i read a chapter. then went down about six or seven, and eat two _cross-buns_." _meditations_, p. . [ ] "i fasted, though less rigorously than at other times. i by negligence poured some milk into my tea. _ibid._ p. .--yesterday, i fasted, as i have always, or commonly done, since the death of tetty; the fast was more painful than usual." [ ] "purposes. to keep a journal. to begin this day. (sept. th, .) to spend four hours in study every day, and as much more as i can. to read a portion of scripture in greek every sunday. to rise at eight.--oct. d. of all this i have done nothing." _ibid._ [ ] "i resolved last easter to read, within the year, the whole bible; a great part of which i had never looked upon." _meditations._ [ ] "i have never yet read the apocrypha. when i was a boy i have read or heard bel and the dragon." _meditations._ [ ] see the first book of samuel, ch. v. and vi. in which an account is given of the punishment of the philistines for looking into the ark. [ ] the rev. dr. adams of oxford, distinguished for his answer to david hume's _essay on miracles_. [ ] from the following letter there is reason to apprehend that dr. adams would not support mr. s----n, if he should add this to the other singular anecdotes that he has published relative to dr. johnson. mr. urban, oxford, oct. d, . in your last month's review of books, you have asserted, that the publication of dr. johnson's _prayers_ and _meditations_ appears to have been at the instance of dr. adams, master of pembroke college, oxford. this, i think, is more than you are warranted by the editor's preface to say; and is so far from being true, that dr. adams never saw a line of these compositions, before they appeared in print, nor ever heard from dr. johnson, or the editor, that any such existed. had he been consulted about the publication, he would certainly have given his voice against it: and he therefore hopes, that you will clear him, in as publick a manner as you can, from being any way accessary to it. wm. adams. [ ] "debilem facite manu, debilem pede, coxa; tuber adstrue gibberum; lubricos quate dentes; vita dum superest, bene est: hanc mihi, vel acuta si sedeam cruce, sustine." senec. epist. . let me but live, the fam'd mæcenas cries, lame of both hands, and lame in feet and thighs; hump-back'd, and toothless;--all convuls'd with pain, ev'n on the cross,--so precious life remain. dr. johnson, in his last illness, is said to have declared (in the presence of doctors h. and b.) that he would prefer a state of existence in eternal pain to annihilation. [ ] "this last comet (which appeared in the year ) i may well call the most remarkable one that ever appeared; since, besides the former consideration, i shall presently shew, that it is no other than that very comet, which came by the earth at the time of noah's deluge, and _which was the cause of the same_." whiston's _theory of the earth_, p. . [ ] "since years appear to be the period of the comet that caused the deluge, what a learned friend who was the occasion of my examination of this matter, suggests, will deserve to be considered; viz. whether the story of the phoenix, that celebrated emblem of the resurrection in christian antiquity, (that it returns once after five centuries, and goes to the altar and city of the sun, and is there burnt; and another arises out of its ashes, and carries away the remains of the former; &c.) be not an allegorical representation of this comet, which returns once after five centuries, and goes down to the sun, and is there vehemently heated, and its outward regions dissolved; yet that it flies off again, and carries away what remains after that terrible burning; &c. and whether the _conflagration_ and renovation of things, which some such comet may bring on the earth, be not hereby prefigured, i will not here be positive: but i own, that i do not know of any solution of this famous piece of mythology and hieroglyphics, as this seems to be, that can be compared with it." _ibid._ p. . [ ] "'tis here foretold [by esdras] that there should be _signs in the woman_; and before all others this prediction has been verified in the famous _rabbet-woman of surrey_, in the days of king george i.--this story has been so unjustly laughed out of countenance, that i must distinctly give my reasons for believing it to be true, and alleging it here as the fulfilling of this ancient prophecy before us.-- st. the man-midwife, mr. howard of godalmin in surrey, a person of very great honesty, skill and reputation in his profession, attested it.--it was believed by king george to be real; and it was also believed by my old friends the speaker and mr. samuel collet, as they told me themselves, and was generally by sober persons in the neighbourhood. nay mr. molyneux, the prince's secretary, a very inquisitive person, and my very worthy friend, assured me he had at first so great a diffidence in the truth of the fact, and was so little biassed by the other believers, even by the king himself, that he would not be satisfied till he was permitted both to see and feel the rabbet, _in that very passage, whence we all come into this world_." whiston's _memoirs_, vol. ii. p. . [ ] "the incumbrances of fortune were shaken from his mind as _dew-drops from the lion's mane_." johnson's _preface to his edition of shakespeare_. [ ] every reader of sensibility must be strongly affected by the following pathetick passages:--"much of my life has been lost under the pressures of disease; much has been trifled away; and much has always been spent in provision for the day that was passing over me; but i shall not think my employment useless or ignoble, if by my assistance foreign nations and distant ages gain access to the propagators of knowledge, and understand the teachers of truth; if my labours afford light to the repositories of science, and add celebrity to bacon, to hooker, to milton, and to boyle." "in this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the authour, and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns, yet it may gratify curiosity to inform it, that the english dictionary was written with _little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow_." preface to dr. johnson's dictionary. [ ] see swift's letter to lord oxford for the institution of an academy to improve and fix the english language. [ ] the great french and italian dictionaries were not the productions of an individual, but were compiled by a body of academicians in each country. [ ] "in times and regions so disjoined from each other, that there can scarcely be imagined any communication of sentiments, either by commerce or tradition, has prevailed a general and uniform expectation of propitiating god by corporal austerities, of anticipating his vengeance by voluntary inflictions, and appeasing his justice by a speedy and cheerful submission to a less penalty when a greater is incurred." _rambler_, no. . [ ] the style of the _ramblers_ seem to have been formed on that of sir thomas brown's _vulgar errors_ and _christian morals_. "but ice is water congealed by the frigidity of the air, whereby it acquireth no new form, but rather a consistence or determination of its defluency, and amitteth not its essence, but condition of fluidity. neither doth there any thing properly conglaciate but water, or watery humidity, for the determination of quicksilver is properly fixation, that of milk coagulation, and that of oil and unctuous bodies only incrassation."--is this written by brown or johnson? [ ] in the _ramblers_ the abstract too often occurs instead of the concrete;--one of dr. johnson's peculiarities. [ ] see victoria's letter, rambler, no. .--"i was never permitted to sleep till i had passed through the cosmetick discipline, part of which was a regular lustration performed with bean-flower water and may-dews; my hair was perfumed with a variety of unguents, by some of which it was to be thickened, and by others to be curled. the softness of my hands was secured by medicated gloves, and my bosom rubbed with a pomade prepared by my mother, of virtue to discuss pimples, and clear discolorations." [ ] dr. johnson's extraordinary facility of composition is well known from many circumstances. he wrote forty pages of the life of savage in one night. he composed seventy lines of his imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal, and wrote them down from memory, without altering a word. in the prologue on opening drury-lane theatre, he changed but one word, and that in compliment to mr. garrick. some of his _ramblers_ were written while the printer's messenger was waiting to carry the copy to the press. many of the _idlers_ were written at oxford; dr. johnson often began his talk only just in time not to miss the post, and sent away the paper without reading it over. [ ] see his admirable _lives of the poets_, and particularly his disquisition on metaphysical and religious poetry. [ ] see his review of soame jennings's _essay on the origin of evil_; a masterpiece of composition, both for vigour of style and precision of ideas. [ ] pope's or rather bolingbroke's system was borrowed from the arabian metaphysicians. [ ] the scheme of the _essay on man_ was given by lord bolingbroke to pope. [ ] see that sublime and beautiful tale, _the prince of abyssinia_; and _the rambler_, no. , , &c. &c. [ ] "the world is disposed to call this a discovery of dr. franklin's, (from his paper inserted in the philosophical transactions) but in this they are much mistaken. pliny, plutarch, and other naturalists were acquainted with it."--"ea natura est olei, ut lucem afferat, ac tranquillar omnia, etiam mare, quo non aliud elementum implacabilius." _memoirs of the society of manchester._ [ ] _london_, a satire, and _the vanity of human wishes_, are both imitations of juvenal. on the publication of _london_ in , mr. pope was so much struck by it, that he desired mr. dodsley, his bookseller, to find out the author. dodsley having sought him in vain for some time, mr. pope said, he would very soon be _deterré_. afterwards mr. richardson the painter found out mr. johnson, and mr. pope recommended him to lord gower. [ ] see the prologue spoken by mr. garrick in , on the opening of drury-lane theatre. [ ] "inter _ignotæ_ strepitus _loquelæ_."--ode to mrs. thrale. [ ] the dignified and affecting letter written by him to the king in the name of doctor dodd, after his condemnation, is justly, and, i believe, universally admired. his benevolence, indeed, was uniform and unbounded.----i have been assured, that he has often been so much affected by the sight of several unfortunate women, whom he has seen almost perishing in the streets, that he has taken them to his own house; had them attended with care and tenderness; and, on their recovery, clothed, and placed them in a way of life to earn their bread by honest industry. [ ] the papers in the adventurer, signed with the letter t, are commonly attributed to one of dr. johnson's earliest and most intimate friends, dr. bathurst; but there is good reason to believe that they were written by dr. johnson, and given by him to his friend. at that time dr. johnson was himself engaged in writing the _rambler_, and could ill afford to make a present of his labours. the various other pieces that he gave away, have bestowed fame, and probably fortune, on several persons. to the great disgrace of some of his clerical friends, forty sermons, which he himself tells us he wrote, have not yet been _deterré_. [ ] "a good continued speech (says bacon in his essays) without a good speech of interlocution, shews slowness; and a good reply or second speech, without a good settled speech, sheweth shallowness and weakness. as we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the course, are yet _nimblest in the turn_; as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare."--if this observation be just, dr. johnson is an exception to the rule; for he was certainly as _strong_ "in the course, as nimble in the turn"; as ready in "reply," as in "a settled speech." [ ] the celebrated flora macdonald. see boswell's _tour_. [ ] see note . [ ] dr. burney's _history of musick_ is equally distinguished by elegance and perspicuity of style, and for scientifick knowledge. [ ] sir william jones produced that learned and ingenious work, _poeseos asiaticæ commentarii_, at a very early age. [ ] "the hindu god, to whom the following poem is addressed, appears evidently the same with the grecian eros, and the roman cupido.----his favourite place of resort is a large tract of country round agra, and principally the plains of matra, where krishen also and the nine gopia, who are clearly the apollo and muses of the greeks, usually spend the night with musick and dance." preface to the hymn to camdeo, translated from the hindu language into persian, and re-translated by sir william jones. there can be little doubt, considering the antiquity and early civilisation of hindostan, that both the philosophy and beautiful mythology of the greeks were drawn from that part of asia. [ ] the following observation in mr. boswell's _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, may sufficiently account for that gentleman's being "now scarcely esteem'd a scot" by many of his countrymen; "if he [dr. johnson] was particularly prejudiced against the scots it was because they were more in his way; because he thought their success in england rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit; and because he could not but see in them that nationality which, i believe, no liberal-minded scotchman will deny." mr. boswell indeed is so free from national prejudices, that he might with equal propriety have been described as-- "scarce by _south_ britons now esteem'd a scot." [ ] when dr. johnson repeated to mr. boswell goldsmith's beautiful eulogium on the english nation, his eyes filled with tears.--boswell's _tour_, p. .--see also the dissertation on the bravery of the english common soldiers, at the end of the _idler_. [ ] see _taxation no tyranny_. [ ] though dr. johnson has called hamden the _zealot of rebellion_, yet that distinguished patriot could not have expressed himself with more ardour in the cause of liberty, than dr. johnson does in the following passage in his life of swift: "in the succeeding reign [that of george i.] he delivered ireland from plunder and _oppression_; and shewed that wit, confederated with _truth_, had such force as authority was unable to resist.--it was from the time when he first began to patronize the irish, that they may date their riches, and prosperity. he taught them first to know their own interest, their weight and their strength, and gave them spirit to assert that _equality_ with their fellow-subjects to which they have been ever since making vigorous advances, and to claim those _rights_ which they have at last established." the truth indeed seems to be, that dr. johnson, though he had been bred in high-church principles, and always expressed himself in controversial argument like a tory, possessed a high independent spirit, and appears to have been a friend to the rights of man. his definition of the word _caitiff_, in his dictionary, may throw some light on this part of his character. "caitiff. [_cattivo_, ital. a slave; whence it came to signify a bad man, with some implication of meanness; as _knave_ in english, and _fur_ in latin; so _certainly does slavery destroy virtue_. hêmisu tês aretês apoainutai doulion êmar. a slave and a scoundrel are signified by the same words in many languages.] a mean villain," &c. see also that animated passage in his _london_, beginning, "here let those reign," &c. [ ] it is observable that dr. johnson did not prefix a dedication to any one of his various works. the augustan reprint society william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles publications in print - . henry nevil payne, _the fatal jealousie_ ( ). . anonymous, "of genius," in _the occasional paper_, vol. iii, no. ( ), and aaron hill, preface to _the creation_ ( ). - . susanna centlivre, _the busie body_ ( ). . lewis theobald, _preface to the works of shakespeare_ ( ). . samuel johnson, _the vanity of human wishes_ ( ), and two _rambler_ papers ( ). . john dryden, _his majesties declaration defended_ ( ). - . thomas gray, _an elegy wrote in a country churchyard_ ( ), and _the eton college manuscript_. - . bernard mandeville, _a letter to dion_ ( ). - . thomas d'urfey, _wonders in the sun_; or, _the kingdom of the birds_ ( ). - . john tutchin, _selected poems_ ( - ). . anonymous, _political justice_ ( ). . robert dodsley, _an essay on fable_ ( ). . t. r., _an essay concerning critical and curious learning_ ( ). . _two poems against pope_: leonard welsted, _one epistle to mr. a. pope_ ( ), and _anonymous, the blatant beast_ ( ). - . daniel defoe and others, _accounts of the apparition of mrs. veal_. . charles macklin, _the covent garden theatre_ ( ). . sir george l'estrange, _citt and bumpkin_ ( ). . henry more, _enthusiasmus triumphatus_ ( ). . thomas traherne, _meditations on the six days of the creation_ ( ). . bernard mandeville, _aesop dress'd or a collection of fables_ ( ). - . edmond malone, _cursory observations on the poems attributed to mr. thomas rowley_ ( ). . anonymous, _the female wits_ ( ). . anonymous, _the scribleriad_ ( ). lord hervey, _the difference between verbal and practical virtue_ ( ). . _le lutrin: an heroick poem, written originally in french by monsieur boileau: made english by n. o._ ( ). - - . charles macklin, _a will and no will, or a bone for the lawyers_ ( ). _the new play criticiz'd, or the plague of envy_ ( ). introduction by jean b. kern. . lawrence echard, prefaces to _terence's comedies_ ( ) and _plautus's comedies_ ( ). introduction by john barnard. . henry more, _democritus platonissans_ ( ). introduction by p. g. stanwood. . john evelyn, _the history of ... sabatai sevi ... the suppos'd messiah of the jews_ ( ). introduction by christopher w. grose. . walter harte, _an essay on satire, particularly on the dunciad_ ( ). introduction by thomas b. gilmore. subsequent publications may be checked in the annual prospectus. publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers - ) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $ . per unit, from the kraus reprint company, east th street, new york, n.y. . publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of $ . yearly. prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. william andrews clark memorial library: university of california, los angeles the augustan reprint society cimarron street, los angeles, california _general editors_: william e. conway, william andrews clark memorial library; george robert guffey, university of california, los angeles; maximillian e. novak, university of california, los angeles _corresponding secretary_: mrs. edna c. davis, william andrews clark memorial library the society's purpose is to publish rare restoration and eighteenth-century works (usually as facsimile reproductions). all income of the society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing. correspondence concerning memberships in the united states and canada should be addressed to the corresponding secretary at the william andrews clark memorial library, cimarron street, los angeles, california. correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to the general editors at the same address. manuscripts of introductions should conform to the recommendations of the mla _style sheet_. the membership fee is $ . a year in the united states and canada and £ . . in great britain and europe. british and european prospective members should address b. h. blackwell, broad street, oxford, england. copies of back issues in print may be obtained from the corresponding secretary. publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers - ) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $ . per unit, from the kraus reprint company, east th street, new york, n. y. . make check or money order payable to the regents of the university of california regular publications for - . john courtenay, _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late samuel johnson_ ( ). introduction by robert e. kelley. . john downes, _roscius anglicanus_ ( ). introduction by john loftis. . sir john hill, _hypochondriasis, a practical treatise on the nature and cure of that disorder call'd the hyp or hypo_ ( ). introduction by g. s. rousseau. . thomas sheridan, _discourse ... being introductory to his course of lectures on elocution and the english language_ ( ). introduction by g. p. mohrman. . arthur murphy, _the englishman from paris_ ( ). introduction by simon trefman. previously unpublished manuscript. . [catherine trotter], _olinda's adventures_ ( ). introduction by robert adams day. special publication for - _after the tempest._ introduction by george robert guffey. next in the continuing series of special publications by the society will be _after the tempest_, a volume including the dryden-davenant version of _the tempest_ ( ); the "operatic" _tempest_ ( ); thomas duffet's _mock-tempest_ ( ); and the "garrick" _tempest_ ( ), with an introduction by george robert guffey. already published in this series are: . john ogilby, _the fables of aesop paraphras'd in verse_ ( ), with an introduction by earl miner. . john gay, _fables_ ( , ), with an introduction by vinton a. dearing. . elkanah settle, _the empress of morocco_ ( ) with five plates; _notes and observations on the empress of morocco_ ( ) by john dryden, john crowne and thomas shadwell; _notes and observations on the empress of morocco revised_ ( ) by elkanah settle; and _the empress of morocco. a farce_ ( ) by thomas duffet; with an introduction by maximillian e. novak. price to members of the society, $ . for the first copy of each title, and $ . for additional copies. price to non-members, $ . . standing orders for this continuing series of special publications will be accepted. british and european orders should be addressed to b. h. blackwell, broad street, oxford, england. transcriber's notes: passages in italics indicated by underscore _italics_. the original text includes greek characters. for this text version these letters have been replaced with transliterations. misprints corrected: "ther" corrected to "their" (footnote ) "crticiz'd" corrected to "criticiz'd" (advertisements) transcribed from the hodder and stoughton edition by david price, email ccx @pglaf.org immortal memories by clement shorter hodder and stoughton london mcmvii _butler and tanner_, _the selwood printing works_, _frome_, _and london_. prefatory the following addresses were delivered at the request of various literary societies and commemorative committees. they amused me to write, and they apparently interested the audiences for which they were primarily intended. perhaps they do not bear an appearance in print. but they are not for my brother-journalists to read nor for the judicious men of letters. i prefer to think that they are intended solely for those whom hazlitt styled "sensible people." hazlitt said that "the most sensible people to be met with in society are men of business and of the world." i am hoping that these will buy my book and that some of them will like it. it is recorded by sir henry taylor of samuel rogers that when he wrote that very indifferent poem, _italy_, he said, "i will make people buy. turner shall illustrate my verse." it is of no importance that the biographer of rogers tells us that the poet first made the artist known to the world by these illustrations. taylor's story is a good one, and the moral worth taking to heart. the late lord acton, most learned and most accomplished of men, wrote out a list of the hundred best books as he considered them to be. they were printed in a popular magazine. they naturally excited much interest. i have rescued them from the pages of the _pall mall magazine_. those who will not buy my book for its seven other essays may do so on account of lord acton's list of books being here first preserved "between boards." i shall be equally well pleased. clement shorter. great missenden, bucks. i. to the immortal memory of dr. samuel johnson a toast proposed at the johnson birthday celebration held at the three crowns inn, lichfield, in september, . in rising to propose this toast i cannot ignore what must be in many of your minds, the recollection that last year it was submitted by a very dear friend of my own, who, alas! has now gone to his rest, i mean dr. richard garnett. { } many of you who heard him in this place will recall, with kindly memories, that venerable scholar. i am one of those who, in the interval have stood beside his open grave; and i know you will permit me to testify here to the fact that rarely has such brilliant scholarship been combined with so kindly a nature, and with so much generosity to other workers in the literary field. one may sigh that it is not possible to perpetuate for all time for the benefit of others the vast mass of learning which such men as dr. garnett are able to accumulate. one may lament even more that one is not able to present in some concrete form, as an example to those who follow, his fine qualities of heart and mind--his generous faculty for 'helping lame dogs over stiles.' dr. garnett had not only a splendid erudition that specially qualified him for proposing this toast, he had also what many of you may think an equally exceptional qualification--he was a native of lichfield; he was born in this fine city. as a londoner--like boswell when charged with the crime of being a scotsman i may say that i cannot help it--i suppose i should come to you with hesitating footsteps. perhaps it was rash of me to come at all, in spite of an invitation so kindly worded. yet how gladly does any lover, not only of dr. johnson, but of all good literature, come to lichfield. four cathedral cities of our land stand forth in my mind with a certain magnetic power to draw even the most humble lover of books towards them--oxford, bath, norwich, lichfield, these four and no others. oxford we all love and revere as the nourishing mother of so many famous men. here we naturally recall dr. johnson's love of it--his defence of it against all comers. the glamour of oxford and the memory of the great men who from age to age have walked its streets and quadrangles, is with us upon every visit. bath again has noble memories. upon house after house in that fine city is inscribed the fact that it was at one time the home of a famous man or woman of the past. through its streets many of our great imaginative writers have strolled, and those streets have been immortalized in the pages of several great novelists, notably of jane austen and charles dickens. for the city of norwich i have a particular affection, as for long the home in quite separate epochs of sir thomas browne and of george borrow. i recall that in the reign of one of its bishops--the father of dean stanley--there was a literary circle of striking character, that men and women of intellect met in the episcopal palace to discuss all 'obstinate questionings.' but if he were asked to choose between the golden age of bath, of norwich, or of lichfield, i am sure that any man who knew his books would give the palm to lichfield, and would recall that period in the life of lichfield when dr. seward resided in the bishop's palace, with his two daughters, and when they were there entertaining so many famous friends. i saw the other day the statement that anna seward's name was unknown to the present generation. now i have her works in nine volumes { }; i have read them, and i doubt not but that there are many more who have done the same. sir walter scott's friendship would alone preserve her memory if every line she wrote deserved to be forgotten as is too readily assumed. scott, indeed, professed admiration for her verse, and a yet greater poet, wordsworth, wrote in praise of two fine lines at the close of one of her sonnets, that entitled 'invitation to a friend,' lines which i believe present the first appearance in english poetry of the form of blank verse immortalized by tennyson. come, that i may not hear the winds of night, nor count the heavy eave-drops as they fall. "you have well criticized the poetic powers of this lady," says wordsworth, "but, after all, her verses please me, with all their faults, better than those of mrs. barbauld, who, with much higher powers of mind, was spoiled as a poetess by being a dissenter." less, however, can be said for her poetry to-day than for her capacity as a letter writer. a letter writing faculty has immortalized more than one english author, horace walpole for example, who had this in common with anna seward, that he had the bad taste not to like dr. johnson. sooner or later there will be a reprint of a selection of anna seward's correspondence; you will find in it a picture of country life in the middle of the eighteenth century--and by that i mean lichfield life--that is quite unsurpassed. anna seward, her friends and her enemies, stand before us in very marked outline. as with walpole also, she must have written with an eye to publication. veracity was not her strong point, but her literary faculty was very marked indeed. those who have read the letters that treat of her sister's betrothal and death, for example, will not easily forget them. the accepted lover, you remember, was a mr. porter, a son of the widow whom johnson married; and sarah seward, aged only eighteen, died soon after her betrothal to him. that is but one of a thousand episodes in the world into which we are introduced in these pages. { } the bishop's palace was the scene of brilliant symposiums. there one might have met erasmus darwin of the _botanic garden_, whose fame has been somewhat dulled by the extraordinary genius of his grandson. there also came richard edgeworth, the father of maria, whose _castle rackrent_ and _the absentee_ are still among the most delightful books that we read; and there were the two young girls, honora and elizabeth sneyd, who were destined in succession to become richard edgeworth's wives. there, above all, was thomas day, the author of _sanford and merton_, a book which delighted many of us when we were young, and which i imagine with all its priggishness will always survive as a classic for children. there, for a short time, came major andre, betrothed to honora sneyd, but destined to die so tragically in the american war of independence. it is to miss seward's malicious talent as a letter writer that we owe the exceedingly picturesque account of day's efforts to obtain a wife upon a particular pattern, his selection of sabrina sidney, whom he prepared for that high destiny by sending her to a boarding school until she was of the right age--his lessons in stoicism--his disappointment because she screamed when he fired pistols at her petticoats, and yelled when he dropped melted sealing-wax on her bare arms; it is a tragi-comic picture, and one is glad that sabrina married some other man than her exacting guardian. but we would not miss miss seward's racy stories for anything, nor ignore her many letters with their revelation of the glories of old- time lichfield, and of those 'lunar meetings' at which the wise ones foregathered. now and again these worthies burst into sarcasm at one another's expense, as when darwin satirizes the publication of mr. seward's edition of _beaumont and fletcher_, and dr. johnson's edition of _shakspere_ from lichfield famed two giant critics come, tremble, ye poets! hear them! fe, fo, fum! by seward's arm the mangled beaumont bled, and johnson grinds poor shakspere's bones for bread. but perhaps after all, if we eliminate dr. johnson, the lover of letters gives the second place, not to miss seward and her circle, but to david garrick. lichfield contains more than one memento of that great man. the actor's art is a poor sort of thing as a rule. johnson, in his tarter moments, expresses this attitude, as when he talked of garrick as a man who exhibited himself for a shilling, when he called him 'a futile fellow,' and implied that it was very unworthy of lord campden to have made much of the actor and to have ignored so distinguished a writer as goldsmith, when thrown into the company of both. still undoubtedly johnson's last word upon garrick is the best--'his death has eclipsed the gaiety of nations and diminished the public stock of harmless pleasure.' we who live more than a hundred years later are able to recognize that garrick has been the one great actor from that age to this. as a rule the mummers are mimics and little more, and generations go on, giving them their brief but glorious hour of fame, and then leaving them as mere names in the history of the stage. garrick was preserved from this fate, not only by the circumstance that he had an army of distinguished literary friends, but by his interesting personality and by his own writings. many lines of his plays and prologues have become part of current speech. moreover his must have been a great personality, as those of us who have met sir henry irving in these latter days have realized that his was also a great personality. it is fitting, therefore, that these two great actors, the most famous of an interesting, if not always an heroic profession, should lie side by side in westminster abbey. i now come to my toast "the memory of dr. johnson." after all, johnson was the greatest of all lichfieldians, and one of the great men of his own and of all ages. we may talk about him and praise him because we shall be the better for so doing, but we shall certainly say nothing new. one or two points, however, seem to me worthy of emphasis in this company of johnsonians. i think we should resent two popular fallacies which you will not hear from literary students, but only from one whom it is convenient to call "the man in the street." the first is, that we should know nothing about johnson if it were not for boswell's famous life, and the second that johnson the author is dead, and that our great hero only lives as a brilliant conversationalist in the pages of boswell and others. boswell's _life of johnson_ is the greatest biography in the english language; we all admit that. it is crowded with incident and anecdote. neither walter scott nor rousseau, each of whom has had an equal number of pages devoted to his personality, lives so distinctly for future ages as does johnson in the pages of boswell. understanding all this, we are entitled to ask ourselves what we should have thought of dr. johnson had there been no boswell; and to this question i do not hesitate to answer that we should have loved him as much as ever, and that there would still have been a mass of material with the true boswellian flavour. he would not have made an appeal to so large a public, but some ingenious person would have drawn together all the anecdotes, all the epigrams, all the touches of that fine humanity, and given us from these various sources an amalgam of johnson, that every bookman at least would have desired to read and study. in fanny burney's _letters and diaries_ the presentation of johnson is delightful. i wonder very much that all the johnson fragments that miss burney provides have not been published separately. then mrs. thrale has chatted about johnson copiously in her "anecdotes," and these pleasant stories have been reprinted again and again for the curious. i recall many other sources of information about the great man and his wonderful talk--by miss hawkins, miss reynolds, miss hannah more for example--and many of you who have dr. birkbeck hill's _johnson miscellanies_ have these in a pleasantly acceptable form. my second point is concerned with dr. johnson's position apart from all this fund of anecdote, and this brilliant collection of unforgettable epigram in boswell and elsewhere. as a writer, many will tell you, dr. johnson is dead. the thing is absurd on the face of it. there is room for some disagreement as to his position as a poet. on that question of poetry unanimity is ever hard to seek; so many mistake rhetoric for poetry. only twice at the most, it seems to me, does dr. johnson reach anything in the shape of real inspiration in his many poems, { } although it must be admitted that earlier generations admired them greatly. to have been praised ardently by sir walter scott, by byron, and by tennyson should seem sufficient to demonstrate that he was a poet, were it not that, as i could prove if time allowed, poets are almost invariably bad critics of poetry. sir walter scott read _the vanity of human wishes_ with "a choking sensation in the throat," and declared that he had more pleasure in reading that and johnson's other long poem, _london_, than any other poetic compositions he could mention. but then i think it was always the sentiment in verse, and not its quality, that attracted scott. byron also declared that _the vanity of human wishes_ was "a great poem." certainly these poems are quotable poems. who does not recall the line about "surveying mankind from china to peru," or think, as johnson taught us, to:-- mark what ills the scholar's life assail, toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. or remember his epitaph on one who:-- left a name at which the world grew pale, to point a moral or adorn a tale. one line--"superfluous lags the veteran on the stage" has done duty again and again. i might quote a hundred such examples to show johnson, whatever his qualities as a poet, is very much alive indeed in his verse. it is, however, as a great prose writer, that i prefer to consider him. here he is certainly one of the most permanent forces in our literature. _rasselas_, for example, while never ranking with us moderns quite so high as it did with the excellent miss jenkins in _cranford_, is a never failing delight. so far from being a dead book, is there a young man or a young woman setting out in the world of to-day, aspiring to an all-round literary cultivation, who is not required to know it? it has been republished continually. what novelist of our time would not give much to have so splendid a public recognition as was provided when lord beaconsfield, then mr. disraeli, after the abyssinian expedition, pictured in the house of commons "the elephants of asia dragging the artillery of europe over the mountains of rasselas." equally in evidence are those wonderful _lives of the poets_ which johnson did not complete until he was seventy-two years of age, literary efforts which have always seemed to me to be an encouraging demonstration that we should never allow ourselves to grow old. many of these 'lives' are very beautiful. they are all suggestive. only the other day i read them again in the fine new edition that was prepared by that staunch johnsonian, dr. birkbeck hill. the greatest english critic of these latter days, mr. matthew arnold, showed his appreciation by making a selection from them for popular use. from age to age every man with the smallest profession of interest in literature will study them. of how many books can this be said? greatest of all was johnson as a writer in his least premeditated work, his _prayers and meditations_. they take rank in my mind with the very best things of their kind, _the meditations of marcus aurelius_, _the confessions of rousseau_, and similar books. they are healthier than any of their rivals. william cowper, that always fascinating poet and beautiful letter writer, more than once disparaged johnson in this connexion. cowper said that he would like to have "dusted johnson's jacket until his pension rattled in his pocket," for what he had said about milton. he read some extracts, after johnson's death, from the _meditations_, and wrote contemptuously of them. { } but if cowper had always possessed, in addition to his fascinating other-worldliness the healthy worldliness of dr. johnson, perhaps we should all have been the happier. to me that collection of _prayers and meditations_ seems one of the most helpful books that i have ever read, and i am surprised that it is not constantly reprinted in a handy form. { } it is a valuable inspiration to men to keep up their spirits under adverse conditions, to conquer the weaknesses of their natures; not in the stifling manner of thomas a kempis, but in a breezy, robust way. yes, i think that these three works, _rasselas_, _the lives of the poets_, and the _prayers and meditations_, make it quite clear that johnson still holds his place as one of our greatest writers, even if we were not familiar with his many delightful letters, and had not read his _rambler_--which his old enemy, miss anna seward, insisted was far better than addison's _spectator_. all this is only to say that we cannot have too much of dr. johnson. the advantage of such a gathering as this is that it helps us to keep that fact alive. moreover, i feel that it is a good thing if we can hearten those who have devoted themselves to laborious research connected with such matters. take, for example, the work of dr. birkbeck hill: his many volumes are a delight to the johnson student. i knew dr. hill very well, and i have often felt that his work did not receive half the encouragement that it deserved. we hear sometimes, at least in london, of authors who advertise themselves. i rather fancy that all such advertisement is monopolized by the novelist, and that the newspapers do not trouble themselves very much about literary men who work in other fields than that of fiction. fiction has much to be said for it, but as a rule it reaps its reward very promptly, both in finance and in fame. no such rewards come to the writer of biography, to the writer of history, to the literary editor. dr. hill's beautiful edition of boswell's _life_, with all its fascinating annotation, did not reach a second edition in his lifetime. i am afraid that the sum that he made out of it, or that his publishers made out of it, would seem a very poor reward indeed when gauged by the results in other fields of labour. within the past few weeks i have had the privilege of reading a book that continues these researches. mr. aleyn lyell reade has published a handsome tome, which he has privately printed, entitled _dr. johnson's ancestry_: _his kinsfolk and family connexions_. i am glad to hear that the johnson museum has purchased a copy, for such a work deserves every encouragement. the author must have spent hundreds of pounds, without the faintest possibility of obtaining either fame or money from the transaction. he seems to have employed copyists in every town in staffordshire, to copy wills, registers of births and deaths, and kindred records from the past. now dr. birkbeck hill could not have afforded to do this; he was by no means a rich man. mr. reade has clearly been able to spare no expense, with the result that here are many interesting facts corrective of earlier students. the whole is a valuable record of the ancestry of dr. johnson. it shows clearly that whereas dr. johnson thought very little of his ancestry, and scarcely knew anything of his grandfather on the paternal or the maternal side, he really sprang from a very remarkable stock, notably on the maternal side; and that his mother's family, the fords, had among their connexions all kinds of fairly prosperous people, clergymen, officials, professional men as well as sturdy yeomen. these ancestors of dr. johnson did not help him much to push his way in the world. of some of them he had scarcely heard. all the same it is of great interest to us to know this; it in a manner explains him. that before samuel johnson was born, one of his family had been lord mayor of london, another a sheriff, that they had been associated in various ways, not only with the city of his birth, but also with the great city which johnson came to love so much, is to let in a flood of fresh light upon our hero. my time does not permit me to do more than make a passing reference to this book, but i should like to offer here a word of thanks to its author for his marvellous industry, and a word of congratulation to him for the extraordinary success that has accrued to his researches. i mention mr. reade's book because it is full of lichfield names and lichfield associations, and it is with dr. johnson's life-long connexion with lichfield that all of us are thinking to-night. now here i may say, without any danger of being challenged by some visitor who has the misfortune not to be a citizen of lichfield--you who are will not wish to challenge me--that this city has distinguished itself in quite an unique way. i do not believe that it can be found that any other town or city of england--i will not say of scotland or of ireland--has done honour to a literary son in the same substantial measure that lichfield has done honour to samuel johnson. the peculiar glory of the deed is that it was done to the living johnson, not coming, as so many honours do, too late for a man to find pleasure in the recognition. we know that-- seven wealthy towns contend for homer dead, through which the living homer begged his bread. but i doubt whether in the whole history of literature in england it can be found that any other purely literary man has received in his lifetime so substantial a mark of esteem from the city which gave him birth, as johnson did when your corporation, in , "at a common-hall of the bailiffs and citizens, without any solicitation," presented him with the ninety-nine years' lease of the house in which he was born. your citizens not only did that for johnson, but they gave him other marks of their esteem. he writes from lichfield to sir joshua reynolds to express his pleasure that his portrait has been "much visited and much admired." "every man," he adds, "has a lurking desire to appear considerable in his native place." then we all remember boswell's naive confession that his pleasure at finding his hero so much beloved led him, when the pair arrived at this very hostelry, to imbibe too much of the famous lichfield ale. if boswell wished, as he says, to offer incense to the spirit of the place, how much more may we desire to do so to-night, when exactly years have passed, and his hero is now more than ever recognized as a king of men. i do not suggest that we should honour johnson in quite the same way that boswell did. this is a more abstemious age. but we must drink to his memory all the same. think of it. a century and a quarter have passed since that memorable evening at the _three crowns_, when johnson and boswell thus foregathered in this very room. you recall the journey from birmingham of the two companions. "we are getting out of a state of death," the doctor said with relief, as he approached his native city, feeling all the magic and invigoration that is said to come to those who in later years return to "calf-land." then how good he was to an old schoolfellow who called upon him here. the fact that this man had failed in the battle of life while johnson had succeeded, only made the doctor the kinder. i know of no more human picture than that--"a mr. jackson," as he is called by boswell, "in his coarse grey coat," obviously very poor, and as boswell suggests, "dull and untaught." the "great cham of literature" listens patiently as the worthy jackson tells his troubles, so much more patiently than he would have listened to one of the famous men of his club in london, and the hero-worshipping boswell drinks his deep potations, but never neglects to take notes the while. of boswell one remembers further that johnson had told wilkes that he had brought him to lichfield, "my native city," "that he might see for once real civility--for you know he lives among savages in scotland, and among rakes in london." all good stories are worth hearing again and again, and so i offer an apology for recalling the picture to your mind at this time and in this place. alas! i have not the gift of the worldfamed lord verulam, who, as francis bacon, sat in the house of commons. the members, we are told, so delighted in his oratory that when he rose to speak they "were fearful lest he should make an end." i am making an end. johnson then was not only a great writer, a conversationalist so unique that his sayings have passed more into current speech than those of any other englishman, but he was also a great moralist--a superb inspiration to a better life. we should not love johnson so much were he not presented to us as a man of many weaknesses and faults akin to our own, not a saint by any means, and therefore not so far removed from us as some more ethereal characters of whom we may read. johnson striving to methodize his life, to fight against sloth and all the minor vices to which he was prone, is the johnson whom some of us prefer to keep ever in mind. "here was," i quote carlyle, "a strong and noble man, one of our great english souls." i love him best in his book called _prayers and meditations_, where we know him as we know scarcely any other englishman, for the good, upright fighter in this by no means easy battle of life. it is as such a fighter that we think of him to-night. reading the account of _his_ battles may help us to fight ours. gentlemen, i give you the toast of the evening. let us drink in solemn silence, upstanding, "the immortal memory of dr. samuel johnson." ii. to the immortal memory of william cowper an address entitled 'the sanity of cowper,' delivered at the centenary celebration at olney, bucks, on the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the death of the poet william cowper, april , . i owe some apology for coming down to olney to take part in what i believe is a purely local celebration, in which no other londoner, as far as i know, has been asked to take part. i am here not because i profess any special qualification to speak about cowper, in the town with which his name is so pleasantly associated, but because mr. mackay, { } the son-in-law of your vicar, has written a book about the brontes, and i have done likewise, and he asked me to come. this common interest has little, you will say, to do with the poet of olney. between cowper and charlotte bronte there were, however, not a few points of likeness or at least of contrast. both were the children of country clergymen; both lived lives of singular and, indeed, unusual strenuousness; both were the very epitome of a strong protestantism; and yet both--such is the inevitable toleration of genius--were drawn in an unusual manner to attachment to friends of the roman catholic church--cowper to lady throckmorton, who copied out some of his translations from homer for him, assisted by her father-confessor, dr. gregson, and miss bronte to her professor, m. heger, the man in the whole world whom she most revered. under circumstances of peculiar depression both these great protestant writers went further on occasion than their protestant friends would have approved, cowper to contemplate--so he assures us in one of his letters--the entering a french monastery, and miss bronte actually to kneel in the confessional in a brussels church. further, let me remind you that there were moments in the lives of charlotte bronte and her sisters, when cowper's poem, _the castaway_, was their most soul-stirring reading. then, again, mary unwin's only daughter became the wife of a vicar of dewsbury, and it was at dewsbury and to the very next vicar, that mr. bronte, the father of charlotte, was curate when he first went into yorkshire. finally, let it be recalled that cowper and charlotte bronte have attracted as much attention by the pathos of their lives as by anything that they wrote. thus far, and no further, can a strained analogy carry us. the most enthusiastic admirers of the brontes can only claim for them that they permanently added certain artistic treasures to our literature. cowper did incomparably more than this. his work marked an epoch. but first let me say how interested we who are strangers naturally feel in being in olney. to every lover of literature olney is made classic ground by the fact that cowper spent some twenty years of his life in it--not always with too genial a contemplation of the place and its inhabitants. "the genius of cowper throws a halo of glory over all the surroundings of olney and weston," says dean burgon. but olney has claims apart from cowper. john newton { } presents himself to me as an impressive personality. there was a time, indeed, of youthful impetuosity when i positively hated him, for southey, whose biography i read very early in life, certainly endeavours to assist the view that newton was largely responsible for the poet's periodical attacks of insanity. but a careful survey of the facts modifies any such impression. newton was narrow at times, he was over-concerned as to the letter, often ignoring the spirit of true piety, but the student of the two volumes of his _life and correspondence_ that we owe to josiah bull, will be compelled to look at "the old african blasphemer" as he called himself, with much of sympathy. that he had a note of tolerance, with which he is not usually credited, we learn from one of his letters, where he says: i am willing to be a debtor to the wise and to the unwise, to doctors and shoemakers, if i can get a hint from any one without respect of parties. when a house is on fire churchmen and dissenters, methodists and papists, moravians and mystics are all welcome to bring water. at such times nobody asks, "pray, friend, whom do you hear?" or "what do you think of the five points?" even my good friend canon benham, who has done so much to sustain the honourable fame of cowper, and who would have been here to-day but for a long-standing engagement, is scarcely fair to newton. { } it is not true, as has been suggested, that cowper always changed his manner into one of painful sobriety when he wrote to newton. one of his most humorous letters--a rhyming epistle--was addressed to that divine. i have writ (he says) in a rhyming fit, what will make you dance, and as you advance, will keep you still, though against your will, dancing away, alert and gay, till you come to an end of what i have penned; which you may do ere madam and you are quite worn out with jigging about, i take my leave, and here you receive a bow profound, down to the ground, from your humble me, w. c. now, i quote this very familiar passage from the correspondence to remind you that cowper could only have written it to a man possessed of considerable healthy geniality. at any rate, alike as a divine and as the author of the _olney hymns_, newton holds an important place in the history of theology, and olney has a right to be proud of him. an even more important place is held by thomas scott, { } and it seems to me quite a wonderful thing that olney should sometimes have held at one and the same moment three such remarkable men as cowper, newton, and scott. in my boyhood scott's name was a household word, and many a time have i thumbed the volumes of his _commentaries_, those _commentaries_ which sir james stephen declared to be "the greatest theological performance of our age and country." of scott cardinal newman in his _apologia_ said, it will be remembered, that "to him, humanly speaking, i almost owe my soul." even here our literary associations with olney and its neighbourhood are not ended, for, it was within five miles of this town--at easton maudit--that bishop percy { } lived and prepared those _reliques_ which have inspired a century of ballad literature. here the future bishop of dromore was visited by dr. johnson and others. what a pity that with only five miles separating them cowper and johnson should never have met! would cowper have reconsidered the wish made when he read johnson's biography of milton in the _lives of the poets_: "oh! i could thresh his old jacket till i made his pension jingle in his pocket!"? but it is with cowper only that we have here to do, and when we are talking of cowper the difficulty is solely one of compression. so much has been written about him and his work. the lives of him form of themselves a most substantial library. he has been made the subject of what is surely the very worst biography in the language and of one that is among the very best. the well-meaning hayley { a} wrote the one, in which the word "tenderness" appears at least twice on every page, and southey { b} the other. not less fortunate has the poet been in his critics. walter bagehot, james russell lowell, mrs. oliphant, george eliot { c}--these are but a few of the names that occur to me as having said something wise and to the point concerning the poet of olney. i somehow feel that it is safer for me to refer to the poet of olney than to speak of william cowper, because i am not quite sure how you would wish me to pronounce his name. _cooper_, he himself pronounced it, as his family are in the habit of doing. the present lord cowper is known to all the world as lord cooper. the derivation of the name and the family coat-of-arms justify that pronunciation, and it might be said that a man was, and is, entitled to settle the question of the pronunciation of his own name. and yet i plead for what i am quite willing to allow is the incorrect pronunciation. all pronunciation, even of the simplest words, is settled finally by a consensus of custom. throughout the english-speaking world the name is now constantly pronounced cowper, as if that most useful and ornamental animal the cow had given it its origin. well-read scotland is peculiarly unanimous in the custom, and well-read america follows suit. william shakspere, i doubt not, called himself shaxspere, and we decline to imitate him, and so probably many of us will with a light heart go on speaking of william cowper to the end of the chapter. at any rate shakspere and cowper, divergent as were their lives and their work--and one readily recognizes the incomparably greater position of the former--had alike a keen sense of humour, rare among poets it would seem, and hugely would they both have enjoyed such a controversy as this. this suggestion of the humour of cowper brings me to my main point. humour is so essentially a note of sanity, and it is the sanity of cowper that i desire to emphasize here. we have heard too much of the insanity of cowper, of the "maniac's tongue" to which mrs. browning referred, of the "maniacal calvinist" of whom byron wrote somewhat scornfully. only a day or two ago i read in a high-class journal that "one fears that cowper's despondency and madness are better known to-day than his poetry." that is not to know the secret of cowper. it is true that there were periods of maniacal depression, and these were not always religious ones. now, it was from sheer nervousness at the prospect of meeting his fellows, now it was from a too logical acceptance of the doctrine of eternal punishment. had it not been these, it would have been something else. it might have been politics, or a hundred things that now and again give a twist to the mind of the wisest. with cowper it was generally religion. i am not here to promote a paradox. i accept the only too well-known story of cowper's many visitations, but, looking back a century, for the purpose of asking what was cowper's contribution to the world's happiness and why we meet to speak of our love for him to- day, i insist that these visitations are not essential to our memory of him as a great figure in our literature--the maker of an epoch. cowper lived for some seventy years--sixty-nine, to be exact. of these years there was a period longer than the full term of byron's life, of shelley's or of keats's, of perfect sanity, and it was in this period that he gave us what is one of the sanest achievements in our literature, view it as we may. let us look backwards over the century--a century which has seen many changes of which cowper had scarcely any vision--the wonders of machinery and of electricity, of commercial enterprise, of the newspaper press, of book production. the galloping postboy is the most persistent figure in cowper's landscape. he has been replaced by the motor car. nations have arisen and fallen; a thousand writers have become popular and have ceased to be remembered. other writers have sprung up who have made themselves immortal. burns and byron, coleridge and wordsworth, scott and shelley among the poets. we ask ourselves, then, what distinctly differentiates cowper's life from that of his brothers in poetry, and i reply--his sanity. he did not indulge in vulgar amours, as did burns and byron; he did not ruin his moral fibre by opium, as did coleridge; he did not shock his best friends by an over-weening egotism, as did wordsworth; he did not spoil his life by reckless financial complications, as did scott; or by too great an enthusiasm to beat down the world's conventions, as did shelley. i do not here condemn any one or other of these later poets. their lives cannot be summed up in the mistakes they made. i only urge that, as it is not good to be at warfare with your fellows, to be burdened with debts that you have to kill yourself to pay, to alienate your friends by distressing mannerisms, to cease to be on speaking terms with your family--therefore cowper, who avoided these things, and, out of threescore years and more allotted to him, lived for some forty or fifty years at least a quiet, idyllic life, surrounded by loyal and loving friends, had chosen the saner and safer path. that, it may be granted, was very much a matter of temperament, and for it one does not need to praise him. the appeal to us of robert burns to gently scan our brother man will necessarily find a ready acceptance to-day, and a plea on behalf of kindly toleration for any great writer who has inspired his fellows is natural and honourable. but cowper does not require any such kindly toleration. his temperament led him to a placid life, where there were few temptations, and that life with its quiet walks, its occasional drives, its simple recreations, has stood for a whole century as our english ideal. it is what, amid the strain of the severest commercialism in our great cities, we look forward to for our declining years as a haven on this side of the grave. but i have undertaken to plead for cowper's sanity. i desire, therefore, to beg you to look not at this or that episode in his life, when, as we know, cowper was in the clutches of evil spirits, but at his life as a whole--a life of serene contentment in the company of his friends, his hares puss, tiny and bess, his "eight pair of tame pigeons," his correspondents; and then i ask you to turn to his work, and to note the essential sanity of that work also. first there is his poetry. when after the bastille had fallen charles james fox quoted in one of his speeches cowper's lines--written long years before--praying that that event might occur, he paid an unconscious tribute to the sanity of cowper's genius. { } few poets who have let their convictions and aspirations find expression in verse have come so near the mark. wordsworth's verse--that which was written at the same age--is studded with prophecy of evils that never occurred. it was not because of any supermundane intelligence, such as latter-day poets have been pleased to affect and latter-day critics to assume for them, that cowper wrote in anticipation of the fall of the bastille in those thrilling lines, but because his exceedingly sane outlook upon the world showed him that france was riding fast towards revolution. we have been told that cowper's poetry lacked the true note of passion, that there was an absence of the "lyric cry." i protest that i find the note of passion in the "lines on the receipt of my mother's picture," in his two sets of verses to mrs. unwin, in his sonnet to wilberforce not less marked than i find it in other great poets. i find in _the task_ and elsewhere in cowper's works a note of enthusiasm for human brotherhood, for man's responsibility for man, for universal kinship, that had scarcely any place in literature before he wrote quietly here at olney thoughts wiser and saner than he knew. to-day we call ourselves by many names, conservatives or liberals, radicals, or socialists; we differ widely as to ways and means; but we are all practically agreed about one thing--that the art of politics is the art of making the world happier. each politician who has any aspirations beyond mere ambition desires to leave the world a little better than he found it. this is a commonplace of to-day. it was not a commonplace of cowper's day. even the great- hearted, lovable dr. johnson was only concerned with the passing act of kindliness to his fellows; patriotism he declared to be the last refuge of a scoundrel; collective aspiration was mere charlatanry in his eyes, and when some one said that he had lost his appetite because of a british defeat, johnson thought him an impostor, in which johnson was probably right. there have been plenty of so-called patriots who were scoundrels, there has been plenty of affectation of sentiment which is little better than charlatanry, but we do not consider when we weigh the influence of men whether rousseau was morally far inferior to johnson. we know that he was. but rousseau, poor an instrument as he may have been, helped to break many a chain, to relieve many a weary heart, to bring to whole peoples a new era in which the horrors of the past became as a nightmare, and in which ideals were destined to reign for ever. cowper, an incomparably better man than rousseau, helped to permeate england with that collective sentiment, which, while it does not excuse us for neglecting our neighbour, is a good thing for preserving for nations a healthy natural life, a more and more difficult task with the growing complications of commercialism. cowper here, as i say, unconsciously performed his greatest service to humanity; and it was performed, be it remembered, at olney. it has been truly said that in cowper:-- the poetry of human wrong begins, that long, long cry against oppression and evil done by man to man, against the political, moral, or priestly tyrant, which rings louder and louder through burns, coleridge, shelley, and byron, ever impassioned, ever longing, ever prophetic--never, in the darkest time, quite despairing. { } and cowper achieved this without losing sight for one moment of the essential necessity for personal worth: spend all thy powers of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise, be most sublimely good, verbosely grand, and it profiteth nothing, he said in effect. that was not his only service as a citizen. he struck the note of honest patriotism as it had not been struck before since milton, by the familiar lines commencing: england, with all thy faults, i love thee still, my country! as also in that stirring ballad "on the loss of the _royal george_:" her timbers yet are sound, and she may float again, full charged with england's thunder, and plough the distant main. there are two other great claims that might here be made for cowper did time allow, that he anticipated wordsworth alike as a lover of nature, as one who had more than a superficial affection for it--the superficial affection of thomson and gray--and that he anticipated wordsworth also as a lover of animal life. cowper's love of nature was the less effective than wordsworth's only, surely, in that he had not had wordsworth's advantage of living amid impressive scenery. his love of animal life was far less platonic than wordsworth's. to his hares and his pigeons and all dumb creatures he was genuinely devoted. perhaps it was because he had in him the blood of kings--for, curiously enough, it is no more difficult to trace the genealogical tree of both cowper and byron down to william the conqueror than it is to trace the genealogical tree of queen victoria--it was perhaps, i say, this descent from kings which led him to be more tolerant of "sport" than was wordsworth. at any rate, cowper's vigorous description of being in at the death of a fox may be contrasted with wordsworth's "heart leap well," and you will prefer cowper or wordsworth, as your tastes are for or against our old-fashioned english sports. but even then, as often, cowper in his poetry was less tolerant than in his prose, for he writes in _the task_ of: detested sport that owes its pleasures to another's pain, we may note in all this the almost entire lack of indebtedness in cowper to his predecessors. one of his most famous phrases, indeed, that on "the cup that cheers, but not inebriates," he borrowed from berkeley; but his borrowings were few, far fewer than those of any other great poet, whereas mine would be a long essay were i to produce by the medium of parallel columns all that other poets have borrowed from him. lastly, among cowper's many excellencies as a poet let me note his humour. his pathos, his humanity--many fine qualities he has in common with others; but what shall we say of his humour? if the ubiquitous scot were present, so far from his native heath--and i daresay we have one or two with us--he might claim that humour was also the prerogative of robert burns. he might claim, also, that certain other great characteristics of cowper were to be found almost simultaneously in burns. there is virtue in the _almost_. cowper was born in , burns in . at any rate humour has been a rare product among the greater english poets. it was entirely absent in wordsworth, in shelley, in keats. byron possessed a gift of satire and wit, but no humour, tennyson only a suspicion of it in "the northern farmer." from cowper to browning, who also had it at times, there has been little humour in the greatest english poetry, although plenty of it in the lesser poets--hood and the rest. but there was in cowper a great sense of humour, as there was also plenty of what hazlitt, almost censoriously, calls "elegant trifling." not only in the imperishable "john gilpin," but in the "case between nose and eyes," "the nightingale and glow-worm," and other pieces you have examples of humorous verse which will live as long as our language endures. cowper's claims as a poet, then, may be emphasized under four heads:-- i. his enthusiasm for humanity. ii. his love of nature. iii. his love of animal life. iv. his humour. and in three of these, let it be said emphatically, he stands out as the creator of a new era. there is another claim i make for him, and with this i close--his position as a master of prose, as well as of poetry. cowper was the greatest letter-writer in a language which has produced many great letter- writers--walpole, gray, byron, scott, fitzgerald, and a long list. but nearly all these men were men of affairs, of action. given a good literary style they could hardly have been other than interesting, they had so much to say that they gained from external sources. even fitzgerald--the one recluse--had all the treasures of literature constantly passing into his study. cowper had but eighteen books altogether during many of his years in olney, and some of us who have lent our volumes in the past and are still sighing over gaps in our shelves find consolation in the fact that six of cowper's books had been returned to him after a friend had borrowed for twenty years or so. now, it is comparatively easy to write good letters with a library around you; it is marvellous that cowper could have done this with so little material, and his letters are, from this point of view, the best of all--"divine chit-chat" coleridge called them. his simple style captivates us. and here let me say--keeping to my text--that it is the _sanest_ of styles, a style with no redundancies, no rhetoric, no straining after effect. the outlook on life is sane--what could be finer than the chase for the lost hare, or the call of the parliamentary candidate, or the flogging of the thief?--and the outlook on literature is particularly sane. cowper was well-nigh the only true poet in the first rank in english literature who was at the same time a true critic. literary history affords a singular revelation of the wild and incoherent judgments of their fellows on the part of the poets. for praise or blame, there are few literary judgments of byron, of shelley, of wordsworth that will stand. coleridge was a critic first, and his poetry, though good, is small in quantity, and the same may be said of matthew arnold. tennyson discreetly kept away from prose, and his letters, be it remembered, lack distinction as do most letters of the nineteenth century. if, however, as we are really to believe, he it was who really made the first edition of palgrave's _golden treasury of lyric poetry_, he came near to cowper in his sanity of judgment, and one delights to think that in that precious volume cowper ranks third--that is, after shakspere and wordsworth--in the number of selections that are there given, and rightly given, as imperishable masterpieces of english poetry. tennyson, also, was at one with cowper in declaring that an appreciation of _lycidas_ was a touchstone of taste for poetry. to tennyson, as to cowper, milton was the one great english poet after shakspere; and here, also, we revere the saneness of view. more sane too, was cowper than any of the modern critics, in that he did not believe that mere technique was the standpoint from which all poetry must ultimately be judged. "give me," he says, "a manly rough line with a deal of meaning in it, rather than a whole poem full of musical periods, that have nothing in them, only smoothness to recommend them!" and thus he justified robert browning and many another singer. let us then dismiss from our minds the one-sided picture of cowper as a gloomy fanatic, who was always asking himself in carlylian phrase, "am i saved? am i damned?" let us remember him as staunch to the friends of his youth, sympathetic to his old schoolfellow, warren hastings, when the world would make him out too black. opposed in theory to tobacco, how he delighted to welcome his good friend mr. bull. "my greenhouse," he says, "wants only the flavour of your pipe to make it perfectly delightful!" naturally tolerant of total abstinence, he asks one friend to drink to the success of his homer, and thanks another for a present of bottle-stands. from beginning to end, save in those periods of aberration, there is no more resemblance to cowper in the picture that certain narrow-minded people have desired to portray than there is in these same people's conception of martin luther. the real luther, who loved dancing and mirth and the joy of living as much as did any of the men he so courageously opposed, was not more remote from a conception of him once current in this country than was the real cowper--the frank, genial humorist, who wrote "john gilpin," who in his youth "giggled and made giggle" with his girl-cousins, and in his maturer years "laughed and made laugh" with lady austen and lady hesketh. to all men there are periods of weariness and depression, side by side with periods of happiness and hopefulness. cowper, alas! had more than his share of the tragedy of life, but let us not forget that he had some of its joy, and that joy is reflected for us in a substantial literary achievement, which has lived, and influenced the world, while his more tragic experiences may well be buried in oblivion. this, you may have noted, is not a criticism of cowper, but an eulogy. i would wish to say, however, that the criticism of cowper by living writers has been of surpassing excellence. for the first fifty or sixty years of the century that we are recalling cowper was the most popular poet of our country, with burns and byron for rivals. he has been largely dethroned by wordsworth and shelley, and tennyson, not one of whom has been praised too much. but if cowper has sunk somewhat out of sight of late years, owing to inevitable circumstances, it is during these late years that he has secured the goodwill of the best living critics. would that mr. leslie stephen { }--who wrote his life in the _dictionary of national biography_--would that mr. edmund gosse--who has so recently published a great biography of cowper's memorable ancestor, dr. donne--were, one or other of them, here to-day; or mr. austin dobson, who has visited olney, and described his impressions; or dr. jessopp, who lives near cowper's tomb in east dereham church. these writers are, alas! not with us, and some presentment of a poet they love has fallen to less capable hands. but not the most brilliant of speeches, not all the enthusiasm of all the critics, can ever restore cowper to his former immense popularity. we do well, however, to celebrate his centenary, because it is good at certain periods to remember our indebtedness to the great men who have helped us in literature or in life. but that is not to say that we work for the dethronement of later favourites. "each age must write its own books," says emerson, and this is particularly the case with the great body of poetry. cowper, however, will live to all time among students of literature by his longer poems; he will live to all time among the multitude by his ballads and certain of his lyrics. he will, assuredly, live by his letters, to study which will be a thousand times more helpful to the young writer than many volumes of addison, to whom we were once advised to devote our days and our nights. cowper will live, above all, as a profoundly interesting and beautiful personality, as a great and good englishman--the greatest of all the sons of this his adopted town. iii. to the immortal memory of george borrow an address delivered in norwich on the occasion of the borrow centenary, . one hundred years ago there was born some two miles from the pleasant little town of east dereham, in this county, a child who was christened george henry borrow. that is why we are assembled here this evening. i count it one of the most interesting coincidences in literary history that only three years earlier there should have left the world in the same little town--a town only known perhaps to those of us who are norfolk men--a poet who has always seemed to me to be one of the greatest glories of our literature: i mean william cowper. cowper died in april, , and borrow was born in july, , in this same town of east dereham: and there very much it might be thought, any point of likeness or of contrast must surely end. cowper and borrow do, indeed, come into some trivial kind of kinship at one or two points. in reading cowper's beautiful letters i have come across two addressed by him to one richard phillips, a bookseller of that day, who had been in prison for publishing some of thomas paine's works. cowper had been asked by phillips to write a sympathetic poem denunciatory of the political and religious tyranny that had sent phillips to jail. cowper had at first agreed, but was afterwards advised not to have anything more to do with phillips. judging by the after career of phillips, cowper did wisely; for phillips was not a good man, although twenty years later he had become a sheriff of london and was knighted. as sir richard phillips he was visited by george borrow, then a youth at the beginning of his career. borrow came to phillips armed with an introduction from william taylor of norwich, and his reception is most dramatically recorded in the pages of _lavengro_. this is, however, to anticipate. then there is a poem by cowper to sir john fenn { } the antiquary, the first editor of the famous _paston letters_. in it there is a reference to fenn's spouse, who, under the pseudonym of "mrs. teachwell," wrote many books for children in her day. now borrow could remember this lady--dame eleanor fenn--when he was a boy. he recalled the "lady bountiful leaning on her gold-headed cane, while the sleek old footman followed at a respectful distance behind." lady fenn was forty- six years old when cowper referred to her. she was sixty-six when the boy borrow saw her in dereham streets. at no other points do these great east dereham writers come upon common ground: cowper during the greater part of his life was a recluse. he practically fled from the world. in reading the many letters he wrote--and they are among the best letters in the english language--one is struck by the small number of his correspondents. he had few acquaintances and still fewer friends. he had never seen a hill until he was sixty, and then it was only the modest hills of sussex that seemed to him so supremely glorious. he was never on the continent. for half a lifetime he did not move out of one county, the least picturesque part of buckinghamshire, the neighbourhood of olney and of weston. there he wrote the poems that have been a delight to several generations, poems which although they may have gone out of fashion with many are still very dear to some among us; and there, as i have said, he wrote the incomparable letters that have an equally permanent place in literature. you could not conceive a more extraordinary contrast than the life of this other writer associated with east dereham, whom we have met to celebrate this evening. george borrow was the son of a soldier, who had risen from the ranks, and of a mother who had been an actress. soldier and actress both imply to all of us a restless, wandering life. the soldier was a cornishman by birth, the actress was of french origin, and so you have blended in this little norfolk boy--who is a norfolk boy in spite of it all--every kind of nomadic habit, every kind of fiery, imaginative enthusiasm, a temperament not usually characteristic of those of us who claim east anglia as the land of our birth or of our progenitors. i wish it were possible for me to reconstruct that norwich world into which young george borrow entered at thirteen years of age. that it was a norwich of great intellectual activity is indisputable. in the year of borrow's birth john gurney, who died six years later, first became a partner in the norwich bank. his more famous son, joseph john gurney--aged fifteen--left the earlham home in order to study at oxford. his sister, the still more famous elizabeth fry, was now twenty-three. so that when borrow, the thirteen year old son of the veteran soldier--who had already been in ireland picking up scraps of irish, and in scotland adding to his knowledge of gaelic--settled down for some of his most impressionable years in norwich, joseph john gurney was a young man of twenty-eight and elizabeth fry was thirty-six. dr. james martineau was eleven years of age and his sister harriet was fourteen. another equally clever woman, not then married to austin, the famous jurist, was sarah taylor, aged twenty-three. this is but to name a few of the crowd of norwich worthies of that day. would that some one could produce a picture of the literary life of norwich of this time and of a quarter of a century onward--a period that includes the famous bishop stanley's { } occupancy of the see of norwich and the visits to this city from all parts of england of a great number of famous literary men. it is my pleasant occupation to-night to endeavour to show that borrow, the very least of these men and women in public estimation for a good portion of his life, and perhaps the least in popular judgment even since his death, was really the greatest, was really the man of all others to whom this beautiful city should do honour if it asks for a name out of its nineteenth century history to crown with local recognition. for whatever homage may have fallen to borrow during the half-century or more since his name first came upon many tongues norwich, it must be admitted, has given very little of it. no one associated with your city, i repeat, but has heard of the gurneys and the martineaus, of the stanleys and the austins, whose life stories have made so large a part of your literary and intellectual history during this very period. but i turn in vain to a number of books that i have in my library for any information concerning one who is indisputably the greatest among the intellectual children of norwich. i turn to mr. prothero's _life of dean stanley_--not one word about borrow; to that pleasant _memoir_ of sarah austin and her mother, mrs. taylor, called _three generations of a norfolk family_--again not one word. i turn to mr. braithwaite's biography of joseph john gurney, and to mr. augustus hare's book _the gurneys of earlham_--upon these worthy biographers borrow made no impression whatever, although joseph john gurney was personally helpful to him and we read in _lavengro_ of that pleasant meeting between the pair on the river bank when mr. gurney chided the boy borrow or lavengro for angling. "from that day," he says, "i became less and less a practitioner of that cruel fishing." in harriet martineau's _autobiography_, which enjoyed its hour of fame when it was published twenty-six years ago, there is a contemptuous reference to the disciple of william taylor, "this polyglot gentleman, who went through spain disseminating bibles." if miss martineau were alive now she would hear the works of "this polyglot gentleman" praised on every hand, and would find that a cult had arisen which to her would certainly be quite incomprehensible. in that large, dismal book--the _life of james martineau_, again, there is but one mention of dr. martineau's famous schoolfellow whose name has been linked with him only by a silly story. do not let it be thought that i am complaining of this neglect; the world will always treat its greatest writers in precisely this fashion. borrow did not lack for fame of a kind, but he was, as i desire to show, praised in his lifetime for the wrong thing, where he was praised at all. everyone in the fifties and sixties read _the bible in spain_, as they read a hundred other books of that period, now forgotten. many read it who were deceived by its title. they expected a tract. many read it as we to-day read the latest novel or biography of the hour. then a new book arises and the momentary favourite is forgotten. we think for a whole week that we are in contact with a well-nigh immortal work. a little later we concern ourselves not at all whether the book is immortal or not. we go on to something else. the critic is as much to blame as the reader. not one man in a hundred whose profession it is to come between the author and the public, and to guide the reader to the best in literature, has the least perception of what is good literature. it is easy when a writer has captured the suffrages of the crowd for the critic to tell the world that he is great. that happened to carlyle, to tennyson, to many a popular author whose earliest books commanded little attention: but, happily, these writers did not lose heart. they kept on writing. borrow was otherwise made. he wrote _the bible in spain_--a book of travel of surprising merit. it sold largely on its title. mr. augustine birrell has told us that he knew a boy in a very strict household who devoured the narrative on sunday afternoons, the title being thought to cover a conventional missionary journey. well, when i was a boy _the bible in spain_ had gone out of fashion and the public had not taken up with the author's greater work, _lavengro_. borrow was naturally disappointed. he abused the critics and the public. perhaps he grew somewhat soured. he did not hesitate in _the romany rye_ to talk candidly about those "ill-favoured dogs . . . the newspaper editors," and he made the gentleman's gentleman of _lavengro_ describe how he was excluded from the servants' club in park lane because his master followed a profession "so mean as literature." in fact as a reaction from the unfriendly reception accorded to the _romany rye_--now one of the most costly of his books in a first edition--he lost heart, and he grew to despise the whole literary and writing class. hence the various stories presenting him in not very sympathetic guise, the story of thackeray being snubbed on asking borrow if he had read the _snob papers_, of miss agnes strickland receiving an even more forcible rebuff when she offered to send him her _queens of england_. "for god's sake don't madame; i should not know where to put them or what to do with them." these stories are in gordon hake's _memoirs of eighty years_, but mr. francis hindes groome has shown us the other side of the picture, and others also to whom i shall refer a little later have done the same. perhaps the literary class is never the worse for a little plain speaking. the real secret of borrow is this--that he was a man of action turned into a writer by force of circumstances. the life of borrow, unlike that of most famous men of letters, has not been overwritten. his death in caused little emotion and attracted but small attention in the newspapers. _the times_, then as now so excellent in its biographies as a rule, devoted but twenty lines to him. here i may be pardoned for being autobiographical. i was last in norwich in the early eighties. i had a wild enthusiasm for literature so far as my taste had been directed--that is to say i read every book i came across and had been doing so from my earliest boyhood. but i had never heard of george borrow or of his works. in my then not infrequent visits to norwich i cannot recall that his name was ever mentioned, and in my life in london, among men who were, many of them, great readers, i never heard of borrow or of his achievement. he died in , and as i do not recall hearing his name at the time of his death or until long afterwards, i must have missed certain articles in the _athenaeum_--two of them admirable "appreciations" by mr. watts-dunton--and so my state of benightedness was as i have described. it may be that those who are a year or two older than i am and those who are younger may find this extraordinary. you have always heard of borrow and of his works, but i think i am entitled to insist that when borrow sank into his grave, an old, and to many an eccentric and bitter man, he had fallen into the most curious oblivion with the public that has ever come to a man, i will not say of equal distinction, but of any distinction whatever. mr. egmont hake told the readers of the _athenaeum_ in a biography that appeared at the time of borrow's death that borrow's works were "forgotten in england" and i find in turning to the biography of borrow in _the norvicensian_, for --the organ of the norwich grammar school--that the writer of this obituary notice confessed that there were none of borrow's works in the library of the school of which borrow had been the most distinguished pupil. from that time--in --until , a period of eighteen years, borrow had but little biographical recognition. a few introductions to his books, sundry encyclopaedia articles, and one or two magazine essays made up the sum total of information concerning the author of _lavengro_ until dr. knapp's _life_ appeared in . that _life_ has been severely handled by some lovers of borrow, and lovers of borrow are now plentiful enough. dr. knapp had not the cunning of the really successful biographer. his book still remains in the huge two-volumed form in which it was first issued four years ago, and i do not anticipate that it will ever be a popular book. there is no literary art in it. there is a capacity for amassing facts, but no power of co-ordinating these facts. moreover dr. knapp did a great deal of mischief by very over-zeal. he made too great a research into all the current gossip in norfolk and suffolk concerning borrow. if you were to make special research into the life of any friend or acquaintance of the past you would hear much foolish gossip and a great many wrong motives imputed, and possibly you would not have an opportunity of checking the various statements. the whole of dr. knapp's book seems to be written upon the principle of "i would if i could" say a good many things, and, indeed, every few months there appears in the _eastern daily press_, a journal of your city that i have read every day regularly since boyhood, a letter from some one explaining that the less inquiry about this or that point in borrow's career the better for borrow. take, for example, last saturday's issue of the journal i have named, where i find the following from a correspondent:-- dr. knapp, from dictates of courtesy, left it unrevealed, and as he could say nothing to borrow's credit, passed the affair over in silence, and on this point all well-wishers of borrow's reputation would be wise to take their cue from this biographer's example. now there is nothing more damnatory than a sentence of this kind. what does it amount to? what is the 'it' that is unrevealed by the courteous dr. knapp? it seems to amount to the charge that borrow is accused of gibbeting in his books the people he dislikes; this is what every great imaginative writer has been charged with to the perplexing of dull people. there are many characters in dickens's novels which are supposed to be a presentation of near relatives or friends. these he ought to have treated with more kindliness. that heroic little woman, miss bronte, gave a picture of madame heger, who kept a school at brussels, that conveyed, i doubt not, a very mistaken presentation of the subject of her satire. imaginative writers have always taken these liberties. when the worst is said it simply amounts to this, that borrow was a good hater. dr. johnson said that he loved a good hater, and he might very well have loved borrow. dante, whom we all now agree to idolize, treated people even more roughly; he placed some of his acquaintances who had ill- used him in the very lowest circles of hell. may i express a hope, therefore, that this type of letter to the norwich newspapers about dr. knapp's "kindness" to borrow's reputation may cease. if dr. knapp had printed the whole of the facts we should know how to deal with them; but this is one of his limitations as a biographer. he has not in the least helped to a determination of borrow's real character. had borrow possessed a biographer so skilful with her pen as mrs. gaskell in her _life of charlotte bronte_, so keen-eyed for the dramatic note as sir george trevelyan in his _life of macaulay_, he would have multiplied readers for _lavengro_. there are many people who have read the bronte novels from sheer sympathy with the writers that their biographer, mrs. gaskell, had kindled. let us not, however, be ungrateful to dr. knapp. he has furnished those of us who are sufficiently interested in the subject with a fine collection of documents. here is all the material of biography in its crude state, but presenting vividly enough the live borrow to those who have the perception to read it with care and judgment. still more grateful may we be to dr. knapp for his edition of borrow's works, particularly for those wonderful episodes in _lavengro_ which he has reproduced from the original manuscript, episodes as dramatic as any other portion of the text, and making dr. knapp's edition of _lavengro_ the only possible one to possess. but to return to the main facts of borrow's career, which every one here at least is familiar with. you know of his birth at east dereham, of his life in ireland and in scotland, of his school days at norwich, of his departure from norwich to london on his father's death, of his dire struggles in the literary whirlpool, and of his wanderings in gipsy land. you know, thanks to dr. knapp, more than you could otherwise have learned of his life at st. petersburg, whither he had been sent by the bible society, on the recommendation of mr. joseph john gurney and another patron. then he has himself told us in picturesque fashion of his life in portugal and spain. after this we hear of his marriage to mary clarke, his residence from to at oulton, in suffolk, from to at yarmouth, from to in hereford square, london, and finally from to at oulton, where he died. that is the bare skeleton of borrow's life, and for half his life, i think, we should be content with a skeleton. for the other half of it we have the best autobiography in the english language. an autobiography that ranks with goethe's _truth and poetry from my life_ and rousseau's _confessions_. in four books--in _lavengro_, _romany rye_, _the bible in spain_, and _wild wales_ we have some delightful glimpses of an interesting personality, and here we may leave the personal side of borrow. beyond this we know that he was unquestionably a devoted son, a good husband, a kind father. the literary life has its perils, so far as domesticity is concerned. sir walter scott in his life of dryden speaks of:-- her who had to endure the apparently causeless fluctuation of spirits incidental to one compelled to dwell for long periods of time in the fitful realms of the imagination, and it is certain that those who dwell in the realms of the imagination are usually very irritable, very difficult to live with. literary history in its personal side is largely a dismal narrative of the uncomfortable relations of men of genius with their wives and with their families. your man of genius thinks himself bound to hang up his fiddle in his own house, however merry a fellow he may prove himself to a hundred boon companions outside. george borrow was perhaps the opposite of all this. as a companion and a neighbour he did not always shine, if the impression of many a witness is to be trusted. they tell anecdotes of his lack of cordiality, of his unsociability, and so on. they have told those anecdotes more industriously in norwich than anywhere else. he himself in an incomparable account of going to church with the gypsies in _the romany rye_ has the following: it appeared as if i had fallen asleep in the pew of the old church of pretty dereham. i had occasionally done so when a child, and had suddenly woke up. yes, surely, i had been asleep and had woke up; but no! if i had been asleep i had been waking in my sleep, struggling, striving, learning and unlearning in my sleep. years had rolled away whilst i had been asleep--ripe fruit had fallen, green fruit had come on whilst i had been asleep--how circumstances had altered, and above all myself whilst i had been asleep. no, i had not been asleep in the old church! i was in a pew, it is true, but not the pew of black leather, in which i sometimes fell asleep in days of yore, but in a strange pew; and then my companions, they were no longer those of days of yore. i was no longer with my respectable father and mother, and my dear brother, but with the gypsy cral and his wife, and the gigantic tawno, the antinous of the dusky people. and what was i myself? no longer an innocent child but a moody man, bearing in my face, as i knew well, the marks of my strivings and strugglings; of what i had learnt and unlearnt. but this "moody man," let it be always remembered, was a good husband and father. his wife was devoted to him, his step-daughter carries now to an old age a profound reverence and affection for his memory. grieved beyond all words was she--the henrietta or "hen" of all his books--at what is maintained to be the utterly fictitious narrative of borrow's described deathbed that professor knapp presented from the ill-considered gossip that he picked up while staying in the neighbourhood. { } borrow has himself something to say concerning his family in _wild wales_:-- of my wife i will merely say that she is a perfect paragon of wives--can make puddings and sweets and treacle posset, and is the best woman of business in east anglia: of my step-daughter, for such she is though i generally call her daughter, and with good reason seeing that she has always shown herself a daughter to me, that she has all kinds of good qualities and several accomplishments, knowing something of conchology, more of botany, drawing capitally in the dutch style, and playing remarkably well on the guitar. yes, i am not quite sure but that borrow was really a good fellow all round, as well as being a good husband and father. he hated the literary class, it is true. he considered that the "contemptible trade of author," as he called it, was less creditable than that of a jockey. he avoided as much as possible the writers of books, and particularly the blue-stocking, and when they came in his way he was not always very polite, sometimes much the reverse. only the other day a letter was published from the late professor cowell describing a visit to borrow and his not very friendly reception. well, borrow was here as elsewhere a man of insight. the literary class is usually a very narrow class. it can talk about no trade but its own. things have grown worse since borrow's day, i am sure, but they were bad enough then. borrow was a man of very varied tastes. he took interest in gypsies and horses and prize fighters and a hundred other entertaining matters, and so he despised the literary class, which cared for none of these things. but unhappily for his fame the literary class has had the final word; it has revealed all the gossip of a gossiping peasantry, and it has done its best to present the recluse of oulton in a disagreeable light. fortunately for borrow, who kept the bores at bay and contented himself with but few friends, there were at least two who survived him to bear testimony to the effect that he was "a singularly steadfast and loyal friend." one of these was mr. watts-dunton, who tells us in one of his essays that: george borrow was a good man, a most winsome and a most charming companion, an english gentleman, straightforward, honest, and brave as the very best examplars of that fine old type. i have dwelt longer on this aspect of my subject than i should have done had i been addressing any other audience than a norwich one. but the fact is that all the gossip and backbiting and censoriousness that has gathered round borrow for a hundred years has come out of this very city, commencing with the "bursts of laughter" that, according to miss martineau, greeted borrow's travels in spain for the bible society. borrow was twenty-one years of age when he left norwich to make his way in the world. during the next twenty years he may have undergone many changes of intellectual view, as most of us do, as miss martineau notably did, and miss martineau and her laughing friends were diabolically uncharitable. that lack of charity followed borrow throughout his life. he was libelled by many, by miss frances power cobbe most of all. however, the great city of norwich will make up for it in the future, and she will love borrow as borrow indisputably loved her. how he praised her fine cathedral, her lordly castle, her mousehold heath, her meadows in which he once saw a prize fight, her pleasant scenery--no city, not even glorious oxford, has been so well and adequately praised, and i desire to show that that praise is not for an age but for all time. if george borrow has not been happy in his biographer, and if, as is true, he has received but inadequate treatment on this account--such series of little books as _the english men of letters_ and the _great writers_ quite ignoring him--he has been equally unfortunate in his critics. there are hardly any good and distinctive appreciations in print of borrow's works. while other great names in the great literature of the victorian period have been praised by a hundred pens, there has scarcely been any notable and worthy praise of borrow, and if i were in an audience that was at all sceptical as to borrow's supreme merits, which happily i am not; if i were among those who declared that they could see but small merit in borrow themselves, but were prepared to accept him if only i could bring good authority that he was a very great writer, i should be hardly put to to comply with the demand. i can only name mr. theodore watts-dunton and mr. augustine birrell as critics of considerable status who have praised borrow well. "the delightful, the bewitching, the never sufficiently-to-be-praised george borrow," says mr. birrell in one of the essays he has written on the subject; { } while mr. theodore watts-dunton, has written no less than four papers on one whom he knew and admires personally, and of whom he insists that "his idealizing powers, his romantic cast of mind, his force, his originality, give him a title to a permanent place high in the ranks of english prose writers." all this is very interesting, but in literature as in life we have got to work out our own destinies. we have not got to accept borrow because this or that critic tells us he is good. i have therefore no quarrel with any one present who does not share my view that borrow was one of the greater glories of english literature. i only desire to state my case for him. to be a lover of borrow, a borrovian, in fact, it is not necessary to know all his books. you may never have seen copies of the _romantic ballads_ or of _faustus_, of _targum_ or of _the turkish jester_, of borrow's translation of _the talisman_ of pushkin. your state may be none the less gracious. to possess these books is largely a collector's hobby. they are interesting, but they would not have made for the author an undying reputation. further, you may not care for _the bible in spain_, you may be untouched by the _gypsies in spain_ and _wild wales_, and even then i will not deny to you the title of a good borrovian, if only you pronounce _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_ to be among the greatest books you know. i can admire the _gypsies in spain_ and _wild wales_. i can read _the bible in spain_ with something of the enthusiasm with which our fathers read it. it is a stirring narrative of travel and much more. robert louis stevenson did, indeed, rank it among his "dear acquaintances" in bookland, "the _pilgrim's progress_ in the first rank, _the bible in spain_ not far behind," he says. all the same, it has not, none of these three books has, the distinctive mark of first class genius that belongs to the other two in the five-volumed edition of borrow's collected works that many of us have read through more than once. not all clever people have thought _lavengro_ and _the romany rye_ to be thus great. a critic in the _athenaeum_ declared _lavengro_ when it was published in to be "balderdash," while a critic writing just fifty years afterwards and writing from norfolk, alas! insisted that the author of this book "was absolutely wanting in the power of invention" that he (borrow) could "only have drawn upon his memory," that he had "no sense of humour." if all this were true, if half of it were true, borrow was not the great man, the great writer that i take him to be. but it is not true. _lavengro_ with its continuation _the romany rye_, is a great work of imagination, of invention; it is in no sense a photograph, a memory picture, and it abounds in humour as it abounds in many other great characteristics. what makes an author supremely great? surely a certain quality which we call genius, as distinct from the mere intellectual power of some less brilliant writer:-- true genius is the ray that flings a novel light o'er common things and here it is that borrow shines supreme. he has invested with quite novel light a hundred commonplace aspects of life. not an inventor! not imaginative! why, one of the indictments against him is that philologists decry his philology and gyptologists his gypsy learning. if, then, his philology and his gypsy lore were imperfect, as i believe they were, how much the greater an imaginative writer he was. to say that _lavengro_ merely indicates keen observation is absurd. not the keenest observation will crowd so many adventures, adventures as fresh and as novel as those of gil blas or robinson crusoe, into a few months' experience. "i felt some desire," says lavengro, "to meet with one of those adventures which upon the roads of england are generally as plentiful as blackberries in autumn." i think that most of us will wander along the roads of england for a very long time before we meet an isopel berners, before we have such an adventure as that of the blacksmith and his horse, or of the apple woman whose favourite reading was _moll flanders_. these and a hundred other adventures, the fight with the flaming tinman, the poisoning of lavengro by the gypsy woman, the discourse with ursula under the hedge, when once read are fixed upon the memory for ever. and yet you may turn to them again and again, and with ever increasing zest. the story of isopel berners is a piece of imaginative writing that certainly has no superior in the literature of the last century. it was assuredly no photographic experience. isopel berners is herself a creation ranking among the fine creations of womanhood of the finest writers. i doubt not but that it was inspired by some actual memory of borrow--the memory of some early love affair in which the distractions of his mania for word-learning--the armenian and other languages--led him to pass by some opportunity of his life, losing the substance for the shadow. but whether there were ever a real isopel we shall never know. we do know that borrow has presented his fictitious one with infinite poetry and fine imaginative power. we do know, moreover, that it is not right to describe isopel berners as a marvellous episode in a narrative of other texture. _lavengro_ is full of marvellous episodes. some one has ventured to comment upon borrow's style--to imply that it is not always on a high plane. what does that matter? style is not the quality that makes a book live, but the novelty of the ideas. stevenson was a splendid stylist, and his admirers have deluded themselves into believing that he was, therefore, among the immortals. but stevenson had nothing new to tell the world, and he was not, he is not, therefore of the immortals. borrow is of the immortals, not by virtue of a style, but by virtue of having something new to say. he is with dickens and with carlyle as one of the three great british prose writers of the age we call victorian, who in quite different ways have presented a new note for their own time and for long after. it is the distinction of borrow that he has invested the common life of the road, of the highway, the path through the meadow, the gypsy encampment, the country fair, the very apple stall and wayside inn with an air of romance that can never leave those of us who have once come under the magnificent spell of _lavengro_ and the _romany rye_. perhaps borrow is pre-eminently the writer for those who sit in armchairs and dream of adventures they will never undertake. perhaps he will never be the favourite author of the really adventurous spirit, who wants the real thing, the latest book of actual travel. but to be the favourite author of those who sit in arm-chairs is no small thing, and, as i have said already, borrow stands with carlyle and dickens in _our_ century, by which i mean the nineteenth century; with defoe and goldsmith in the eighteenth century, as one of the really great and imperishable masters of our tongue. what then will norwich do for george borrow? i ask this question, although it would, perhaps, be an impertinence to ask it were i not a norwich man. if you have read dr. knapp's _life of borrow_, you will have seen more than one reference to mrs. borrow's landlord, "old king," "tom king the carpenter," and so on, who owned the house in willow lane in which borrow spent his boyhood. that 'old king the carpenter'--i believe he called himself a builder, but perhaps this was when he grew more prosperous--was my great-great-uncle. one of his sons became physician to prince talleyrand and married a sister of john stuart mill. one of his great-nieces was my grandmother, and her mother's family, the parkers, had lived in norwich for many generations. so on the strength of this little piece of genealogy let me claim, not only to be a good borrovian, but also a good norvicensian. grant me then a right to plead for a practical recognition of borrow in the city that he loved most, although he sometimes scolded it as it often scolded him. i should like to see a statue, or some similar memorial. if you pass through the cities of the continent--french, german, or belgian--you will find in well-nigh every town a memorial to this or that worthy connected with its literary or artistic fame. how many memorials has norwich to the people connected with its literary or artistic fame? nay, i am not rash and impetuous. i would beg any one of my hearers who thinks that borrow might well have a memorial in marble or bronze in your city to wait a while. you are busy with a statue to sir thomas browne--a most commendable scheme. to attempt to raise one to borrow at this moment would probably be to court disaster. nor do i advocate a memorial by private subscription. observation has shown me what that means: failure or half failure in nearly every case. the memorial when it comes must be initiated by the city fathers in council assembled. that time is perhaps far distant. but let us all do everything we can to make secure the high and honourable achievement of george borrow, to kindle an interest in him and his writings, to extend a taste for the undoubted beauties of his works among all classes of his fellow-citizens--that is to secure borrow the best of all monuments. more durable than brass will be the memorial that is contained in the assurance that he possesses the reverence and the homage of all true norfolk hearts. iv. to the immortal memory of george crabbe an address delivered at the crabbe celebration at aldeburgh in suffolk on the th of september, . i have been asked to say something in praise of george crabbe. the task would be an easier one were it not for the presence of the distinguished critic from the university of nancy who is with us to-day. m. huchon { } has devoted to the subject a singleminded zeal to which one whose profession is primarily that of a journalist can make no claim. moreover it has been well said that _the judgment of foreigners is the judgment of posterity_, and i fully believe that where a writer has secured the suffrages of men of another nation than his own, he has done more for his ultimate fame than the passing and fickle favour of his countrymen can secure for him. in any case crabbe has been praised more eloquently than almost any other modern, and this in spite of the fact that he was not read by the generation succeeding his death, nor is he read much in our own time. if you want to read crabbe to-day in his entirety, you must become possessed of a huge and clumsy volume of sombre appearance, small type and repellant double columns. for fully seventy years it has not paid a publisher to reprint crabbe's poems properly. { } when this was achieved in , the edition in eight volumes was comparatively a failure, and the promised two volumes of essays and sermons were not forthcoming in consequence. selections from crabbe have been many, but when all is said he has been the least read for the past sixty or seventy years of all the authors who have claims to be considered classics. the least read but perhaps the best praised--that is one point of certainty. the praise began with the politicians--with the two greatest political leaders of their age. the eloquent and noble edmund burke, the great- hearted charles james fox. burke "made" george crabbe as no poet was ever made before or since. to me there is no picture in all literature more unflaggingly interesting than that of the great man, whose life was so full of affairs, taking the poor young stranger by the hand, reading through his abundant manuscripts, and therefrom selecting--as the poet was quite unable to select--_the library_ and _the village_ as the most suitable for publication, helping him to a publisher, introducing him to friends, and proving himself quite untiring on his behalf. there is a letter of burke's printed in a little known book--_the correspondence of sir thomas hanmer_, speaker of the house of commons--in which burke takes the trouble to defend crabbe's moral character and to press his claims for being admitted to holy orders. "dudley north tells me," he continues, "that he has the best character possible among those with whom he has always lived, that he is now working hard to qualify, and has not only latin, but some smattering of greek." it had its gracious amenities, that eighteenth century, for i do not believe that there is a man in the ranks of the present government, or of the present opposition, who would take all this trouble for a poor unknown who had appealed to him merely by two or three long letters recounting his career. nay, cabinet ministers are less punctilious than formerly, and the newest type, i understand, leaves letters unanswered. i can imagine the attitude of one of our modern statesmen in the face of two quite bulky packages of many sheets from a young author. he would request his secretary to see what they were all about, and then would follow the curt answer--"i am directed by dash to say that he cannot comply with your request." burke not only wrote to the speaker of the house of commons, but enclosed crabbe's letter to him, a quite wonderful piece of autobiography. { } all crabbe's admirers should read that letter. crabbe apologizes for writing again, and refers to "these repeated attacks on your patience." "my father," he said, "had a place in the custom house at aldeburgh. he had a large family, a little income and no economy," and then the story of his life up to that time is told to burke in fullest detail. again, there is that other statesman-admirer of crabbe, charles james fox. fox gave to crabbe's work an admiration which never faltered, and on his death-bed requested that the pathetic story of phoebe dawson in _the parish register_ should be read to him--it was, we are told, "the last piece of poetry that soothed his dying ear." in lord holland's _memoirs of the whig party_ there is a statement by his nephew which no biographer so far has quoted:-- i read over to him the whole of crabbe's _parish register_ in manuscript. some parts he made me read twice; he remarked several passages as exquisitely beautiful, and objected to some few which i mentioned to the author and which he, in almost every instance, altered before publication. mr. fox repeated once or twice that it was a very pretty poem, that crabbe's condition in the world had improved since he wrote _the village_, and his view of life, likewise _the parish register_, bore marks of considerably more indulgence to our species; though not so many as he could have wished, especially as the few touches of that nature were beautiful in the extreme. he was particularly struck with the description of the substantial happiness of a farmer's wife. from great novelists the tributes are not less noteworthy than from great statesmen. jane austen, whose personality perhaps has more real womanly attractiveness than that of any sister novelist of the first rank, declared playfully that if she could have been persuaded to change her state it would have been to become mrs. crabbe; and who can forget sir walter scott's request in his last illness: "read me some amusing thing--read me a bit of crabbe." they read to him from _the borough_, and we all remember his comment, "capital--excellent--very good." yet at this time--in --any popularity that crabbe had once enjoyed was already on the wane. other idols had caught the popular taste, and from that day to this there was to be no real revival of appreciation for these poems. there were to be no lack of admirers, however, of the audience "fit though few." byron's praise has been too often quoted for repetition. wordsworth, who rarely praised his contemporaries in poetry, declared of crabbe that his works "would last from their combined merit as poetry and truth." macaulay writes of "that incomparable passage in crabbe's _borough_ which has made many a rough and cynical reader cry like a child"--the passage in which the condemned felon takes his tasteless food, and when 'tis done, counts up his meals, now lessen'd by that one,-- a story which macaulay bluntly charges robert montgomery with stealing. lord tennyson, again, at a much later date, admitted that "crabbe has a world of his own." not less impressive surely is the attitude of the two writers as far as the poles asunder in their outlook upon life and its mysteries--cardinal newman and edward fitzgerald. the famous theologian, we learn from the _letters and correspondence_ collected by anne mozley, writes in of his "excessive fondness" for _the tales of the hall_, and thirty years later in one of his _discourses_ he says of crabbe's poems that they are among "the most touching in our language." still another twenty years, and the aged cardinal reread crabbe to find that he was more delighted than ever with our poet. that great nineteenth century pagan, on the other hand, that prince of letter-writers and wonderful poet of whom suffolk has also reason to be proud, edward fitzgerald, was even more ardent. praise of crabbe is scattered freely throughout the many volumes of his correspondence, and he edited, as we all know, a book of selections, which i want to see reprinted. it contains a preface that, it may be admitted, is not really worthy of fitzgerald, so lacking is it in the force and vigour of his correspondence. but this also was in fact yet another death-bed tribute, for it was, i think, one of the last things fitzgerald wrote. fitzgerald, however, has done more for crabbe among the moderns than any other man. his keen literary judgment must have brought new converts to that limited brotherhood of the elect, of which this gathering forms no inconsiderable portion. we have one advantage in speaking about george crabbe that does not obtain with any other poet of great eminence; that is to say, that his life story has not been hackneyed by repetition. with almost any other writer there is some standing biography which is widely familiar. the _life of george crabbe_, written by his son, although it is one of the very best biographies that i have ever read, is little known. it was quite out of print for years, and it has never been reprinted separately from the poems. it is an admirable biography, and it offers a contradiction of the view occasionally urged that a man's life should not be written by a member of his own family; for george crabbe the second would seem not only to have been an exceedingly able man, but possessed of a frankness of disposition in criticizing his father which sons are often prone to show in real life, but which, i imagine, they rarely show in print. his book is a model of candid statement, treating of crabbe's little weaknesses--and who of us has not his little weaknesses--in the most cheery possible manner. it is perhaps a small matter to tell us in one place of his father's want of "taste," his insensibility to the beauty of order in his composition--that had been done by the critics before him; but he even has something to say about the philandering which characterized the old gentleman in the last years of his life, his apparent anxiety to get married again. { } the only thing that he all but ignores is crabbe's opium habit--a habit that came to him as a sedative from a painful complaint and inspired, as was the case with coleridge, his more melodious utterances. taken altogether the picture is as pleasant as it is capable and exhaustive. we see his early boyhood at aldeburgh, his schooldays: his first period of unhappiness at slaughden quay, his apprenticeship near bury st. edmunds, where we seem to hear his master's daughters, when he reached the door, exclaim with laughter, "la! here's our new 'prentice." we follow him a little higher, to the house of the woodbridge surgeon, then through his prolonged courtship of sarah elmy, then to those dreary, uncongenial duties of piling up butter casks on slaughden quay. a brief period of starvation in london, and we find him again in a chemist's shop in aldeburgh. lastly comes his most important journey to london upon the borrowed sum of pounds, only three of which he carried in hard cash. his hand to mouth existence in london for some months is among the most interesting things in literature. chatterton's tragic fate might have been his, but, more fortunate than chatterton, he had friends at beccles who helped him, and he was even able to publish a poem, _the candidate_. although this poem contained only thirty-four pages, one is not quite sure but that it helped to ruin its publisher. in any case that publisher went bankrupt soon after. crabbe has been reproached for having continually attempted to secure a "patron" at this time, and it has been hinted by sir leslie stephen that he ought to have recognized that the patron was out of date, killed by dr. johnson's sturdy defiance. i do not agree with this view. dr. johnson, in spite of his famous epigram, was always more or less assisted by the patron, although his personality was strong enough to enable him to turn the tables at the end. when one comes to think of it, thrale the brewer was a patron of johnson, so was strahan the printer. and does he not say in his famous letter to lord chesterfield that "seven years, my lord, have now passed since i waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door," clearly implying that if chesterfield was not johnson's patron it was not the great doctor's fault? in any case the patron must always exist for the poor man of letters in every age. now, he is frequently a collective personality rather than an individual. he is represented for the author who has tried and failed by the royal literary fund, by such bounty as is awarded by the society of authors, or by the civil list grant. for the author in embryo he is assisted above all by the literary log-roller who flourishes so much in our day. if he is not this "collective personality," or one of the others i have named, then he is something much worse--that is, a capitalist publisher. we can none of us who have to earn a living run away from the patronage of capital, and when sir leslie stephen was being paid a salary by the late mr. george smith for editing the _dictionary of national biography_, and was told, as we remember that he frequently was, that it was not a remunerative venture and that, as mr. smith was fond of saying, his publishing business did not pay for his vineries, sir leslie stephen was experiencing a patronage, if he had known it, not less melancholy than anything crabbe suffered from edmund burke or the duke of rutland. when one meets a writer who desires to walk on high stilts and to talk of the independence of literature, one is entitled to ask him if it was a greater indignity for lord tennyson in his younger days to have received pounds a year from the civil list than for crabbe to have received the same sum as the duke of rutland's chaplain; in fact, crabbe earned the money, and tennyson did not. there are, as i have said, some most wonderful and pathetic touches in the account of crabbe's attempt to conquer london. there are his letters to his sweetheart, for example, his "dearest mira," in one of which he says that he is possessed of . _d._ in the world. in another he relates that he has sold his surgical instruments in order to pay his bills. nevertheless, we find him standing at a bookstall where he sees dryden's works in three volumes, octavo, for five shillings, and of his few shillings he ventures to offer _s._ _d._--and carries home the dryden. what bibliophile but must love such a story as that, even though a day or two afterwards its hero writes, "my last shilling became _d._ yesterday." but what a good investment withal. dryden made him a much better poet. then comes the famous letter to burke, and the less known second letter to which i have referred, and burke's splendid reception of the writer. nothing, i repeat, in the life of any great man is more beautiful than that. as crabbe's son finely says: "he went in burke's room a poor young adventurer, spurned by the opulent and rejected by the publishers, his last shilling gone, and his last hope with it. he came out virtually secure of almost all the good fortune that by successive stages afterwards fell to his lot." the success that comes to most men is built up on such chances, on the kind help of some one or other individual. finally there came--for i am hastily recapitulating crabbe's story--the years of prosperity, curacies, rectories, the praise of great contemporaries, but nothing surely more edifying than the burning of piles of manuscripts so extensive that no fireplace would hold them. the son's account of his assisting at these conflagrations is not the least interesting part of his biography, the merits of which i desire to emphasize. people who make jokes about that most succulent edible, the crab, when the poet crabbe is mentioned in their presence--and who can resist an obvious pun--are not really far astray. there can be little doubt but that a remote ancestor of george crabbe took his name from the "shellfish," as we all persist, in spite of the naturalist, in calling it; and the poet did not hesitate to attribute it to the vanity of an ancestor that his name had had two letters added. nor when we hear of cromer crabs, or crabs from some other part of norfolk as distinct from what i am sure is equally palatable, the crustacean as it may be found in aldeburgh, are we remote from the story of our poet's life. for there cannot be a doubt but that norfolk shares with suffolk the glory of his origin. his family, it is clear, came first from norfolk. the crabbes of norfolk were farmers, the crabbes of suffolk always favoured the seacoast, and all the glory that surrounds the name of the poet to whom we do honour to-day is reflected in the town in which he was born and bred. aldeburgh is crabbe's own town, and it is an interesting fact that no other poet can be identified with one particular spot in the way in which crabbe can be identified with this beautiful watering-place in which we are now assembled. shakspere was more of a londoner than a stratfordian; nearly all his best work was written in london, and many of the most receptive years of his life were spent in that city. milton's honoured name is identified with many places, apart from london, the city of his birth. shelley, byron and keats were essentially cosmopolitans in their writings as in their lives. wordsworth was closely identified with grasmere, although born in a neighbouring county; but he went to many and varied scenes, and to more than one country, for some of his most inspired verses. then cowper, the poet of whom one most often thinks when one is recalling the achievement of crabbe, is a poet of some half- dozen places other than olney, and perhaps his best verses were written at weston-underwood. now george crabbe in the years of his success was identified with many places other than aldeburgh: with belvoir castle, with muston, and with trowbridge, where he died, and some of his admirers have even identified him with bath. when all this is allowed, it is upon aldeburgh that the whole of his writings turned, the place where he was born, where he spent his boyhood, and the earlier years of a perhaps too sordid manhood, whither he returned twice, as a chemist's assistant and as curate. it is the place that primarily inspired all his verses. aldeburgh stands out vividly before us in each succeeding poem--in _the village_, _the borough_, _the parish register_, _the tales_, and even in those _tales of the hall_, composed in later life in faraway trowbridge. crabbe's vivid observations indeed come home to every one who has studied his works when they have visited not only aldeburgh but its vicinity. every reach of the river ald recalls some striking line by him: the scenery in _the lover's journey_ we know is a description of the road between aldeburgh and beccles, and all who have sailed along the river to orford have recognized that no stream has been so perfectly portrayed by a poet's pen. here in his writings you may have a suggestion of muston, here of allington, and here again of trowbridge; but in the main it is the suffolk scenery that most of us here know so well that was ever in his mind. when an attempt was once made to stir up the great eastern railway to identify this district with the name of crabbe as the english lakes were identified with the name of wordsworth, and the scots lakes with that of sir walter scott, a high official of the railway made the statement that up to that moment he had never even heard the name of crabbe. well, all that is going to be changed. i do not at all approve of the phrase beloved of certain book-makers and of railway companies that implies that any county or district is the monopoly of one man, be he ever so great a writer. yet i venture to say that within the next ten years the "crabbe country" will sound as familiar to the officials of the great eastern as the "wordsworth country" does to those of the midland or the north western. it is true that once in the bitterness of his heart the poet referred to aldeburgh as "a little venal borough in suffolk" and that he more than once alluded to his unkind reception upon his reappearance as a curate, when he had previously failed at other callings. "in my own village they think nothing of me," he once said. but who does not know how the heart turns with the years to the places associated with childhood and youth, and crabbe was a remarkable exemplification of this. a well-known literary journal stated only last week that "crabbe's connexion with aldeburgh was not very protracted." so far from this being true it would be no exaggeration to say that it extended over the whole of his seventy-eight years of life. it included the first five-and- twenty years almost entirely. it included also the brief curacy, the prolonged residence at parham and glenham, frequent visits for holidays in after years, and who but a lover of his native place would have done as his son pictures him doing when at stathern--riding alone to the coast of lincolnshire, sixty miles from where he was living, only to dip in the waves that also washed the beach of aldeburgh and returned immediately to his home. "there is no sea like the aldeburgh sea," said edward fitzgerald, and we may be sure that was crabbe's opinion also, for revisiting it in later life he wrote:-- there once again, my native place i come thee to salute, my earliest, latest home. one picture in crabbe's life stands out vividly to us all--the long years of devotion given by him to sarah elmy, and the reciprocal devotion of the very capable woman who finally became his wife. crabbe's courtship and marriage affords a pleasant contrast to the usual unhappy relations of poets with their wives. shakspere, milton, dryden, byron, shelley, and many another poet was less happy in this respect, and i am not sure how far the belief in crabbe's powers as a poet has been affected by the fact that he lived on the whole a happy, humdrum married life. the public has so long been accustomed to expect a different state of things. i have given thus much time to crabbe's life story because it interests me, and i do not believe that it is possible nowadays to kindle a very profound interest in any writer without a definite presentation of his personality. apart from his biography--his three biographies by george crabbe the second, mr. t. e. kebbel, and canon ainger, there are the seven volumes of his works. now i do not imagine that any great accession will be made to the ranks of crabbe's admirers by asking people to take down these seven volumes and read them right through--a thing i have myself done twice, and many here also i doubt not. rather would i plead for a reprint of edmund fitzgerald's selections, or failing that i would ask you to look at the volume of selections made by mr. bernard holland, or that other admirable selection by the rev. anthony deane. "i must think my old crabbe will come up again, though never to be popular," wrote fitzgerald to archbishop trench. well, perhaps the "large still books" of the older writers are never destined to be popular again, but they will always maintain with genuine book lovers their place in english literature, and if the adequate praise they have received from many good judges is well kept to the front there will be constant accessions to the ranks, and readers will want the whole of crabbe's works in which to dig for themselves. crabbe's place in english literature needed not such a gathering as this to make it secure, but we want celebrations of our literary heroes to keep alive enthusiasm, and to encourage the faint-hearted. in the glorious tradition of english literature, then, crabbe comes after cowper and before wordsworth. there is a lineal descent as clear and well-defined as any set forth in the peerages of "burke" or "debrett." we read in vain if we do not fully grasp the continuity of creative work. cowper was born in , crabbe in , and cowper was called to the bar in the year that crabbe was born. in spite of this disparity of years they started upon their literary careers almost at the same time. _the village_ was published in , and _the task_ in , yet cowper is in every sense the elder poet, inheriting more closely the traditions of pope and dryden, coming less near to humanity than crabbe, and being more emphatically a child of the eighteenth century in its artificial aspects. it is impossible to indict a whole century with all its varied accomplishments, and the century that produced swift and cowper and crabbe had no lack of the finer instincts of brotherhood. yet the century was essentially a cruel one. take as an example the attitude of naturally kindly men to the hanging of dr. dodd for forgery. even samuel johnson, who did what he could for dodd, did not find, as he should have done, his whole soul revolted by such a punishment for a crime against property. cowper has immense claim upon our regard. he is one of the truest of poets, and one of the most interesting figures in all english literature, although no small share of his one-time popularity was due to his identification with evangelicalism in religion. cowper had humour and other qualities which enabled him to make the universal appeal to all hearts which is the test of the greatest literature--the appeal of "john gilpin," the "lines" to his mother's portrait, and his verses on "the loss of the _royal george_." crabbe made no such appeal, and he has not the adventitious assistance that association with a religious sect affords. hence the popularity he once enjoyed was more entirely on his merits than was that of cowper. he was the first of the eighteenth century poets who was able to _see things as they really are_. therein lies his strength. were they poets at all--those earlier eighteenth century writers? it sounds like rank blasphemy to question it, but what is poetry? surely it is the expression artistically in rhythmic form--or even without it--of the sincerest emotions concerning nature and life. the greatest poet is not the one who is most sincere--a very bad poet can be that--but the poet who expresses that sincerity with the most perfect art. from this point of view the poets before cowper and crabbe, pope, goldsmith, johnson and others were scarcely poets at all. masters of language every one of them, able to command a fine rhetoric, but not poets. gray in two or three pieces was a poet, but for johnson that claim can scarcely be made. cowper was the first to emancipate himself from the conventionality of his age, and crabbe emancipated himself still further. he had boundless sincerity, and he is really a very great poet even if he has not the perfection of art of some later poets. many know crabbe only by the parody of his manner in _rejected addresses_: john richard william alexander dwyer was footman to justinian stubbs esquire; but when john dwyer listed in the blues, emanuel jennings polished stubbs's shoes. and it must be admitted that there are plenty of lines like these in crabbe, as for example:-- grave jonas kindred, sybil kindred's sire was six feet high, and looked six inches higher. or this:-- the church he view'd as liberal minds will view and there he fixed his principles and pew. banalities of this kind are scattered through his pages as they are scattered through those of wordsworth. nevertheless he was a great poet, bringing us before wordsworth out of the ruck of artificiality and insincerity. does any one suppose that pope in his _essay on man_, that johnson in his _london_ or that goldsmith in his _deserted village_ had any idea other than the production of splendid phrases. each and all of them were brilliant men of letters. crabbe was not a brilliant man of letters, but he was a fine and a genuine poet. you will look in vain in his truest work for the lyrical and musical gift that we associate with poets who came after:--shelley, keats, tennyson--poets who made crabbe's work quite distasteful for some three generations. crabbe it has been claimed had that gift also, to be found in "sir eustace grey" and other verses written under the inspiration of opium, as much of coleridge's best work was written--but it is not in these that his admirers will seek to emphasize his achievement--it is in his work which treats of the simple annals of my parish poor. _the village_, _the parish register_, _the borough_, and many of the _tales_ bear witness to a clear vision of life as it is lived by the majority of people born into this world. i have seen criticism of crabbe which calls him the poet who took the middle classes for his subjects, criticism which compared him with george eliot. all this is quite beside the mark. crabbe is pre-eminently the poet of the poor, with a lesson for to-day as much as for a century ago. villages are not now what they were then, we are told. but i fully believe that there are all the conditions of life to-day hidden beneath the surface as crabbe's close observations pictured them. "the altered position of the poor," says mr. courthope, "has fortunately deprived his poems of much of the reality they once possessed." i do not believe it. the closely packed towns, the herding together of families, the squalor are still to be found in our midst. crabbe has his message for our time as well as for his own. how he tore the veil from the conventional language of his day, the picture of the ideal village where the happy peasantry passed through life so joyously. contrast such pictures with his sad declaration-- i've seldom known, though i have often read of happy peasants on their dying-bed. solution crabbe offers none for the tragedy of poverty. he was no politician. he signed the nomination paper for john wilson croker the tory in his native aldeburgh, and he supported a whig at the same election at trowbridge. his politics were summed up in backing his friends of both parties. but he did see, as politicians are only beginning to see to-day, that the ultimate solution was a social one and not a mere question of political parties. generations have passed away since he lived, and men are still shouting themselves hoarse to prove that in this shibboleth or in that may be found the salvation of the country, yet we have still our thousands on the verge of starvation, we have still the very poor in our midst, and the problem seems as far from solution as ever. but it would be all the better for the state if we could keep the questions raised by crabbe in his wonderful pictures more continually in view,--lacking in taste as they may sometimes seem to weak stomachs, coarse, unvarnished narratives though they be of a life which is really almost entirely sordid. then let us turn to crabbe's gallery of pictures. phoebe dawson, and the equally pathetic ruth, blaney and clelia, peter grimes and many another. they are as clearly defined a set of entirely human beings as any master has given us. it is not assuredly in george eliot, as canon ainger suggests, that i find an affinity to crabbe among the moderns, but in two much greater writers of quite different texture, balzac and dickens. had crabbe not been bounded and restrained by the conventions of his cloth, he might have become one of the most popular story-tellers in our literature--the english balzac. at a hundred points charles dickens is an entire contrast to crabbe--in his buoyant humour, his gaiety of heart, in the glamour that he throws over the life of the poor, a glamour that was more present in the early victorian era than in our own, but crabbe is with balzac and with dickens in that he presents as no other moderns have done living pictures of suffering human lives. there is yet one other literary force, powerful in our day, that has been largely influenced by crabbe. those who love the novels of mr. thomas hardy, whom we rejoice to see with us at this celebration,--his _woodlanders_, _the return of the native_, _far from the madding crowd_, and many another book that touches the very heart of things in nature and human life, will rejoice to hear that this great writer has admitted george crabbe to be the most potent influence that has affected his work. i have heard him declare many times how much he was inspired by crabbe, whereas the later french realists had no influence upon him whatever. "crabbe was our first great english realist" mr. hardy would tell you if only we could persuade him to speak from this platform, as unfortunately he will not. lastly let us take crabbe as a great story-teller. he has many more ideas than most of the novelists. that is why we do well to recall the hint of the writer who said that when a new work came out we should take down an old one from our shelves. instead of the "un-idead" novels, that come out by the dozen and are so popular. i wish we could agree to read crabbe's novels in verse. unhappily their form is against them in the present age. but it would not be at all a misfortune if we could make crabbe's _tales_ once more the vogue. they are good stories, absorbingly interesting. they leave a very vivid impression on the mind. once read they are unforgettable. i have seen it stated that these stories are old-fashioned both in manner and in substance. in manner they may be, but in substance i maintain they are intensely modern, alive with the spirit of our time. any latter- day novelist might envy crabbe his power of developing a story. it is this essential modernity that is to make crabbe's place in english literature secure for generations yet to come. finally, crabbe's place in english literature is as the bridge between the eighteenth and nineteenth century. with him begins that "enthusiasm of humanity" which the eighteenth century so imperfectly understood. byron and wordsworth, disliking each other cordially, did well to praise him, for he was their forerunner. a master of pathos, you may find in his work incentive to tears and laughter, although sometimes the humour, as in _the learned boy_, is sadly unconscious. but i must bring these rambling remarks to a close, and in doing so i must once again quote that other suffolk worthy to whom many of us are very much attached, i mean edward fitzgerald. when sir leslie stephen wrote what is to my mind a singularly infelicitous essay on crabbe in the _cornhill_, he quoted the remark, which seemed to be new to fitzgerald, as to crabbe being a "pope in worsted stockings"--a remark made by horace smith of _rejected addresses_, although i have seen it ascribed to byron and others. "pope in worsted stockings," exclaimed fitzgerald, "why i could cite whole paragraphs of as fine a texture as moliere; 'incapable of epigram,' the jackanapes says--why, i could find fifty of the very best epigrams in five minutes," and later, in another letter he writes-- i am positively looking over my everlasting crabbe again; he naturally comes in about the fall of the year. here surely is an appropriate quotation, a little prophetic perhaps, for our gathering--the "everlasting crabbe." we cannot all love crabbe as much as fitzgerald loved him, but this gathering will not be vain if after this we handle his volumes more lovingly, read his poems more sympathetically, and continue with more zeal than ever before to be proud of the man who, born in aldeburgh a century and a half ago, is closely identified with this county of suffolk as i believe no other great writer is closely identified with any county in england. an aldeburgh man--a suffolk man he was--yet even more in the future than in the past, he is destined to gain the whole world for his parish. he is the everlasting crabbe! v. the literary associations of east anglia an address to the east anglian society on the occasion of a dinner to mr. william dutt, author of "highways and byways in east anglia." march , . i appreciate the privilege of being allowed to speak this evening for a few minutes upon the literary associations of east anglia, of being permitted to ask you, while doing honour to a well-known east anglian writer of to-day, to cast a glance back upon the literature of the past so far as it affects that portion of the british empire with which we nearly all of us here are proud to be associated. there is necessarily some difference of opinion as to what constitutes east anglia. i find that our guest of to-night tells us that it is "norfolk, suffolk and portions of essex, cambridgeshire and lincolnshire." dr. knapp, the biographer of borrow, says that it is norfolk, suffolk and cambridgeshire; personally i am content with that classification, because, although i was born in london, i claim, apart from schoolboy days at downham market, a pretty lengthy ancestry from norwich on one side--which is indisputably east anglia--and from welney, near wisbeach, on another side, and welney and wisbeach are, i affirm, just as much east anglia as norwich and ipswich. with reference to those other counties and portions of counties, i think that the inhabitants must be allowed to decide for themselves. i imagine that they will give every possible stretch to the imagination in order to allow themselves the honour of being incorporated in east anglia, a name that one never pronounces without recalling that fine old-world compliment of st. augustine of canterbury to our ancestors, that they ought to be called not "angles" but "angels." every one in particular who loves books must be proud to partake of our great literary tradition. if it is difficult to decide precisely what east anglia is, it is perhaps equally difficult to speak for a few minutes on so colossal a theme as the literature of east anglia. it would be easy to recapitulate what every biographical dictionary will provide, a long list of famous names associated with our counties; to remind you that we have produced two poet-laureates--john skelton, of diss, the author of _colyn cloute_, and thomas shadwell, of broomhill, the playwright--the latter perhaps not entirely a subject for pride; two very rough and ready political philosophers, thomas paine, born at thetford, and william godwin, born at wisbeach; a very popular novelist in bulwer lytton, and a very popular theologian in dr. samuel clarke; as also the famous brother and sister whose works appealed to totally different minds, james and harriet martineau. then there was that pathetic creature and indifferent poet, robert bloomfield, whose _farmer's boy_ once appeared in the luxurious glories of an expensive quarto. finally, one recalls that two of the most popular women writers of an earlier generation, clara reeve, the novelist, and agnes strickland, the historian, were suffolk women. but i am not concerned to give you a recapitulation of all the east anglian writers, whose names, as i have said, can be found in any biographical dictionary, and the quality of whose work would rather suggest that east anglia, from a literary point of view, is a land of extinct volcanoes. i am naturally rather anxious to make use of the golden opportunity that has been afforded me to emphasize my own literary sympathies, and to say in what i think lies the glory of east anglia, at least so far as the creation of books is concerned. here i make an interesting claim for east anglia, that it has given us in captain marryat perhaps the very greatest prose writer of the nineteenth century who has been a delight to youth, and two of the very greatest prose writers of all times for the inspiration of middle-age, sir thomas browne and george borrow. it has given us in sarah austin an example of a learned woman who was also a fascinating woman; it has given us again the most remarkable letter-writers in the english language--margaret paston, horace walpole and edward fitzgerald. to these there were only three serious rivals as letter-writers--william cowper, thomas grey and charles lamb; and the first found a final home and a last resting-place in our midst. it has given us that remarkable novelist and entertaining diarist, fanny burney. finally, it has given us in that same william cowper--who rests in east dereham church, and for whom we claim on that and for other reasons some share and participation in his genius--a great and much loved poet. it has given us indeed in william cowper and george crabbe the two most natural and the two most human poets in the english literature of two centuries, only excepting the favourite poet of scotland--robert burns. it is to these of all writers that i would pin my faith in talking of east anglia and its literature; it is their names that i would have you keep in your mind when you call up memories of the literature which has most inspired our east anglian life. in connexion with many writers a point of importance will occur to us. only occasionally has a great english author a special claim on one particular portion of england. he has not been the lesser or the greater for that, it has merely been an accident of his birth and of his career. the greatest of all writers, the one of whom all englishmen are naturally the most proud, shakspere, has, it is true, an abundant association with warwickshire, but shakspere stands almost alone in this, as in many things. chaucer, spenser, milton, byron and keats were born in london; they travelled widely, they lived in many different counties or countries, and cannot be said to have adorned any distinctively local tradition. shelley was born in sussex, but a hundred cities, including rome, where his ashes rest, may claim some participation in his fine spirit. wordsworth, on the other hand, who was born in cumberland, certainly obtained the greater part of his inspiration from the neighbouring county of westmorland, where his life was passed. but when we come to east anglia we are face to face with a body of writers who belong to the very soil, upon whom the particular character of the landscape has had a permanent effect, who are not only very great englishmen and englishwomen, but are great east anglians as well. i have said that captain marryat was an east anglian, and have we not a right to be proud of marryat's breezy stories of the sea? our youth has found such plentiful stimulus in _peter simple_, _frank mildmay_, and _mr. midshipman easy_; generations of boys have read them with delight, generations of boys will read them. and not only boys, but men. one recalls that carlyle, in one of his deepest fits of depression, took refuge in marryat's novels with infinite advantage to his peace of mind. speaking of captain marryat and books for boys, a quite minor kind of literature perhaps some of you may think, i must recall that an earlier and still more famous story for children had an east anglian origin. did not the babes in the wood come out of norfolk? was it not their estate in that county that, as we learn from percy's _reliques_, their wicked uncle coveted, and were not the last hours of those unfortunate children, in this most picturesque and pathetic of stories, solaced by east anglian robins and their poor bodies covered by east anglian vegetation? let me pass, however, to what may be counted more serious literature. what can one say of sir thomas browne unless indeed one has an hour in which to say it. every page of that great writer's _religio medici_ and _urn burial_ is quotable--full of worldly wisdom and of an inspiration that is not of the world. browne was born in london, and not until he was thirty-two years of age did he settle in norwich, where he was "much resorted to for his skill in physic," and where he lived for forty-five years, when the fine church of st. peter mancroft, received his ashes--a church in which, let me add, with pardonable pride, my own grandfather and grandmother were married. i am glad that norwich is shortly to commemorate by a fitting monument not the least great of her sons, one who has been aptly called "the english montaigne." { } perhaps there are those who would dispute my claim for marryat and for sir thomas browne that they were east anglians--both were only east anglians by adoption. there are even those who dispute the claim for one whom i must count well-nigh the greatest of east anglian men of letters--george borrow. borrow, i maintain, was an east anglian if ever there was one, although this has been questioned by mr. theodore watts- dunton. now i have the greatest possible regard for mr. watts-dunton. he is distinguished alike as a critic, a poet, and a romancer. but i must join issue with him here, and you, i know, will forgive me for taking up your time with the matter; for if mr. watts-dunton were right, one of the chief glories would be shorn from our east anglian traditions. he denies in the introduction to a new edition of _the romany rye_, just published, the claim of borrow to be an east anglian, although borrow himself insisted that he was one. one might as well call charlotte bronte a yorkshire woman as call borrow an east anglian. he was no more an east anglian than an irishman born in london is an englishman. his father was a cornishman and his mother of french extraction. not one drop of east anglian blood was in the veins of borrow's father, and very little in the veins of his mother. borrow's ancestry was pure cornish on one side, and on the other mainly french. but such was the egotism of borrow that the fact of his having been born in east anglia made him look upon that part of the world as the very hub of the universe. well, i am not prepared to question the suggestion that east anglia is the hub of the universe, only to question mr. watts-dunton's position. there is virtue in that qualification of his that there was "very little" east anglian blood in the veins of borrow's mother, and that she was "mainly" french. as a matter of fact she was, of course, partly east anglian; that is to say, she must have had two or three generations of east anglian blood in her, seeing that it was her great-grandfather who settled in norfolk from france, and he and his children and grandchildren intermarried with the race. but i do not pin my claim for borrow upon that fact--the fact of three generations of his mother's family at dumpling green--or even on the fact that he was born near east dereham. there is nothing more certain than that we are all of us influenced greatly by our environment, and that it is this, quite as much as birth or ancestry, that gives us what characteristics we possess. it is the custom, for example, to call swift an irishman, whereas swift came of english parentage and lived for many of his most impressionable years in england. nevertheless, he may be justly claimed by the sister-island, for during a long sojourn in that country he became permeated with the subtle influence of the irish race, and in many things he thought and felt as an irishman. it is the custom to speak of maria edgeworth as an irish novelist, yet miss edgeworth was born in england of english parentage. nevertheless, she was quite as much an irish novelist as charles lever and samuel lover, for all her life was spent in direct communion with the irish race, and her books were irish books. it is, on the other hand, quite unreasonable to deny that charlotte bronte was a yorkshire woman. only once at the end of her life did she visit ireland for a few weeks. her irish father and her cornish mother doubtless influenced her nature in many ways, but not less certain was the influence of those wonderful moors around haworth, and the people among whom she lived. neither ireland nor cornwall has as much right to claim her as yorkshire. i am the last to disclaim the influence of what is sometimes called "celticism" upon english literature; upon this point i am certain that matthew arnold has said almost the last word. the celts--not necessarily the irish, as there are three or four races of celts in addition to the irish--have in the main given english literature its fine imaginative quality, and even where he cannot trace a celtic origin to an english writer we may fairly assume that there is celtic blood somewhere in an earlier generation. nevertheless, the impressions, as i have said, derived from environment are of the utmost vitality, and assuredly borrow was an east anglian, as sir thomas browne was an east anglian. in each writer you can trace the influence of our soil in a peculiar degree, and particularly in borrow. borrow was proud of being an east anglian, and we are proud of him. in _lavengro_, i venture to assert, we have the greatest example of prose style in our modern literature, and i rejoice to see a growing borrow cult, a cult that is based not on an acceptance of the narrower side of borrow--his furious ultra-protestantism, for example--as was the popularity that he once enjoyed, but upon the fact that he was a magnificent artist in words. no artist in words but is influenced by environment. charles kingsley, for example, who came from quite different surroundings, was profoundly influenced by the east anglian fen- country:-- "they have a beauty of their own, those great fens," he said, "a beauty of the sea, of boundless expanse and freedom. overhead the arch of heaven spreads more ample than elsewhere, and that vastness gives such cloud-lands, such sunrises, such sunsets, as can be seen nowhere else within these isles." but i must hasten on, although i would fain tarry long over george borrow and his works. i have said that east anglia is the country of great letter writers. first, there was margaret paston. there is no such contribution to a remote period of english history as that contained in the _paston letters_, and i think we must associate them with the name of a woman--margaret paston. margaret's husband, john paston; her son, sir john paston; and her second son, who, strangely enough, was also a john, and called himself "john paston the youngest," come frequently before us in the correspondence, but margaret paston is the central figure. it may not be without interest to some of my hearers who are married to recall that margaret paston addresses her husband not as "dear john," or "my dear john," as i imagine a wife of to-day would do, but as "right reverend and worshipful husband." nowhere is there such a vivid picture of a bygone age as that contained in these _paston letters_. we who sit quietly by the hearth in the reign of king edward vii may read what it meant to live by the hearth in the reign of king edward iv. it is curious that the most humane documents of far-off times in our history should all come from east anglia, not only those _paston letters_, brimful of the most vital interest concerning the reigns of henry vi and edward iv, but also an even earlier period--the life, or at least the monastic life in the time of the first richard and of king john is in a most extraordinarily human fashion mirrored for us in that chronicle of st. edmund's bury monastery known as the jocelyn chronicle, published by the camden society, which carlyle has vitalized so superbly for us in _past and present_. but i was speaking of the great letter writers, commencing with margaret paston. who are our greatest letter writers? undoubtedly they are horace walpole, william cowper and edward fitzgerald. you know what a superb picture of eighteenth century life has been presented to us in the nine volumes of correspondence we have by horace walpole. { } walpole was to all practical purposes an east anglian, although he happened to be born in london. his father, the great sir robert walpole, was a notable east anglian, and he had the closest ties of birth and association with east anglia. many of his letters were written from the family mansion of houghton. { } next in order comes william cowper. i believe that more than one literary historian has claimed cowper as a norfolk man. cowper was born in hertfordshire; he lived for a very great deal of his life in olney, in buckinghamshire, in london and in huntingdon, but if ever there was a man who took on the texture of east anglian scenery and east anglian life it was cowper. that beautiful river, the ouse, which empties itself into the wash, was a peculiar inspiration to cowper, and those who know the scenery of olney know that it has conditions exactly analogous in every way to those of east anglia. one of cowper's most beautiful poems is entitled "on receipt of my mother's portrait out of norfolk," and he himself, as i have said, found his last resting-place on east anglian soil--at east dereham. if there may be some doubt about cowper, there can be none whatever about edward fitzgerald, the greatest letter-writer of recent times. in mentioning the name of fitzgerald i am a little diffident. it is like introducing "king charles's head" into this gathering; for was he not the author of the poem known to all of us as the _rubaiyat of omar khayyam_, and there is no small tendency to smile to-day whenever the name of omar khayyam is mentioned and to call the cult a "lunacy." it is perhaps unfortunate that fitzgerald gave that somewhat formidable title to his paraphrase, or translation, of the old persian poet. it is not the fault of those who admire that poem exceedingly that it gives them a suspicion of affecting a scholarship that they do not in most cases possess. what many of us admire is not omar khayyam the persian, nor have we any desire to see or to know any other translation of that poet. we simply admit to an honest appreciation of the poem by edward fitzgerald, the suffolk squire, the poem that tennyson describes as "the one thing done divinely well." that poem by fitzgerald will live as long as the english language, and let it never be forgotten that it is the work of an east anglian, an east anglian who, like borrow, possessed a marked celtic quality, the outcome of a famous irish ancestry, nevertheless of an east anglian who loved its soil, its rivers and its sea. then i come to another phase of east anglian literary traditions. it is astonishing what a zest for learning its women have displayed; i might give you quite a long list of distinguished women who have come out of east anglia. crabbe must have had one in mind when he wrote of arabella in one of his _tales_:-- this reasoning maid, above her sex's dread had dared to read, and dared to say she read, not the last novel, not the new born play, not the mere trash and scandal of the day; but (though her young companions felt the shock) she studied berkeley, bacon, hobbes and locke. the one who perhaps made herself most notorious was harriet martineau, and in spite of her disagreeable egotism it is still a pleasure to read some of her less controversial writings. her _feats on the fiord_, for example, is really a classic. but i can never quite forgive harriet martineau in that she spoke contemptuously of east anglian scenery, scenery which in its way has charms as great as any part of europe can offer. no, in this roll of famous women, the two i am most inclined to praise are sarah austin and fanny burney. mrs. austin was, you will remember, one of the taylors of norwich, married to john austin, the famous jurist. she was one of the first to demonstrate that her sex might have other gifts than a gift for writing fiction, and that it was possible to be a good, quiet, domestic woman, and at the same time an exceedingly learned one. even before carlyle she gave a vogue to the study of german literature in this country; she wrote many books, many articles, and made some translations, notably what is still the best translation of von ranke's _history of the popes_. in the muster-roll of east anglian worthies let us never forget this singularly good woman, this correspondent of all the most famous men of her day, of guizot, of grote, of gladstone, and one who also, as a letter-writer, showed that she possessed the faculty that seems, as i have said, to be peculiar to the soil of east anglia. still less must we forget fanny burney, who, born in king's lynn, lived to delight her own generation by _evelina_ and by the fascinating _diary_ that gives so pleasant a picture of dr. johnson and many another of her contemporaries. _evelina_ and the _diary_ are two of my favourite books, but i practise self-restraint and will say no more of them here. i now come to my ninth, and last, name among those east anglian worthies whom i feel that we have a particular right to canonize--george crabbe--"though nature's sternest painter yet the best," as byron described him. now it may be frankly admitted that few of us read crabbe to-day. he has an acknowledged place in the history of literature, but there pretty well even well-read people are content to leave him. "what have our literary critics been about that they have suffered such a writer to drop into neglect and oblivion?" asks a recent quarterly reviewer. he does not live as cowper does by a few lyrics and ballads and by incomparable letters. scarcely a line of crabbe survives in current conversation. if you turn to one of those handy volumes of reference--dictionaries of quotation, as they are called--from which we who are journalists are supposed to obtain most of the literary knowledge that we are able to display on occasion, you will scarcely find a dozen lines of crabbe. and yet i venture to affirm that crabbe has a great and permanent place in literature, and that as he has been a favourite in the past, he will become a favourite in the future. crabbe can never lose his place in the history of literature, a place as the forerunner of wordsworth and even of cowper, but it would be a tragedy were he to drop out of the category of poets that are read. a dainty little edition in eight volumes is among my most treasured possessions. i have read it not as we read some so-called literature, from a sense of duty, but with unqualified interest. we have had much pure realism in these latter days; why not let us return to the most realistic of the poets. he was beloved by all the greatest among his contemporaries. scott and wordsworth were devoted to his work, and so also was jane austen. at a later date tennyson praised him. we have heard quite recently the story of mr. james russell lowell in his last illness finding comfort in reading scott's _rob roy_. let us turn to scott's own last illness and see what was the book he most enjoyed, almost on his deathbed:-- "read me some amusing thing," said sir walter, "read me a bit of crabbe." "i brought out the first volumes of his old favourite that i could lay hand on," says lockhart, "and turned to what i remembered was one of his favourite passages in it. he listened with great interest. every now and then he exclaimed, "capital, excellent, excellent, very good." cardinal newman and edward fitzgerald at the opposite poles, as it were, of religious impressions, agree in a devotion to crabbe's poetry. cardinal newman speaks of _tales of the hall_ as "a poem whether in conception or in execution one of the most touching in our language," and in a footnote to his _idea of a university_ he tells us that he had read the poem thirty years earlier with extreme delight, "and have never lost my love of it," and he goes on to plead that it is an absolute _classic_. not to have read crabbe, therefore, is not to know one of the most individual in the glorious muster-roll of english poets, and crabbe was pre-eminently an east anglian, born and bred in east anglia, and taking in a peculiar degree the whole character of his environment, as only shakspere, cowper and wordsworth among our great poets, have done. in conclusion, let me recapitulate that the names of marryat, sir thomas browne, george borrow, margaret paston, horace walpole, sarah austin, fanny burney, edward fitzgerald, and george crabbe are those that i prefer to associate with east anglian literature. we are well aware that literature is but an aspect of our many claims on the gratitude of those englishmen who have not the good fortune to be east anglians. we have given to the empire a great scholar in porson, a great statesman in sir robert walpole, a great lawyer in sir edward coke, great ecclesiastics in cardinal wolsey and archbishop parker, great artists in gainsborough, constable and crome, and perhaps above all great sailors in sir cloudesley shovel and the ever memorable lord nelson. personally i admire a certain rebel, kett the tanner, as much as any of those i have named. of all these east anglian worthies the praise has often been sung, but let me be pardoned if, on an occasion like this, i have dwelt rather at length on the less familiar association of east anglia with letters. that i have but touched the fringe of the subject is obvious. what might not be said, for example, concerning norwich as a literary centre under bishop stanley--the norwich of the taylors and the gurneys, possessed of as much real intellectual life as london can boast of to-day. what, again, might not be said of the influence upon writers from afar. read kingsley's _hereward the wake_, mr. swinburne's _midsummer holiday_, charles dickens' description of yarmouth and goldsmith's poetical description in his _deserted village_, where clearly houghton was intended. { } these, and a host of other memories touch the heart of all good east anglians, but that east anglians do not forget the living in doing honour to the dead is indicated by this gathering to-night. we are grateful to dr. augustus jessopp, to mr. walter rye, to mr. edward clodd, and to our guest of this evening, mr. william dutt, for keeping alive the folk-lore, the literary history, the historical tradition of that portion of the british isles to which we feel the most profound attachment by ties of residence or of kinship. vi. dr. johnson's ancestry a paper read before the members of the johnson club of london at simpson's restaurant in the strand. there is, i believe, a definite understanding among our members that we, the brethren of the johnson club, have each and all of us read every line about dr. johnson that is in print, to say nothing of his works. it is particularly accepted that the thirteen volumes in which our late brother, dr. birkbeck hill, enshrined his own appreciation of our great man, are as familiar to us all as are the bible and the book of common prayer. for my part, with a deep sense of the responsibility that must belong to any one who has rashly undertaken to read a paper before the club, i admit to having supplemented these thirteen volumes by a reperusal of the little book entitled _johnson club papers_, by various hands, issued in by brother fisher unwin. i feel as i reread these addresses that there were indeed giants in those days, although my admiration was moderated a little when i came across the statement of one brother that johnson's proposal for an edition of shakspere "came to nothing"; and the statement of another that "goldsmith's failings were almost as great and as ridiculous as boswell's;" while my bibliographical ire was awakened by the extraordinary declaration in an article on "dr. johnson's library," that a first folio edition of shakspere might have realized pounds in the year . still, i recognize the talent that illuminated the club in those closing years of the last century. happily for us, who love good comradeship, most of the giants of those days are still in evidence with their polished armour and formidable spears. what can i possibly say that has not already been said by one or other of the brethren? well, i have put together these few remarks in the hopes that no one of you has seen two books that are in my hands, the first, _the reades of blackwood hill_, _with some account of dr. johnson's ancestry_, by aleyn lyell reade; the other, _the life and letters of dr. birkbeck hill_, by his daughter mrs. crump. the first of these is privately printed, although it may be bought by any one of the brethren for a couple of guineas. as far as i am able to learn, brother augustine birrell is the only one of the brethren who has as yet purchased a copy. the other book, our brother birkbeck hill's biography, is to be issued next week by mr. edward arnold, who has kindly placed an early copy at my disposal. in both these volumes there is much food for reflection for all good johnsonians. dr. johnson's ancestry, it may be, makes little appeal to the crowd, but it will to the brethren. there is no more favourite subject for satire than the tendency to minute study of an author and his antecedents. but the lover of that author knows the fascination of the topic. he can forgive any amount of zeal. i confess that personally i stand amazed at the variety and interest of mr. reade's researches. let me take a sample case of his method before coming to the main issue. in the opening pages of boswell's _johnson_ there is some account of mr. michael johnson, the father. the most picturesque anecdote told of johnson senior is that concerning a young woman of leek in staffordshire, who while he served his apprenticeship there conceived a passion for him, which he did not return. she followed him to lichfield, where she took lodgings opposite to the house in which he lived, and indulged her hopeless flame. ultimately she died of love and was buried in the cathedral at lichfield, when michael johnson put a stone over her grave. this pathetic romance has gone unchallenged by all boswell's editors, even including our prince of editors, dr. birkbeck hill. mr. reade, it seems to me, has completely shattered the story, which, as all johnsonian students know, was obtained by boswell from miss anna seward. mr. reade is able to show that michael johnson had been settled in lichfield for at least eleven years before the death of elizabeth blaney, that for five years she had been the much appreciated domestic in a household in that city. her will indicates moreover a great affection for her mistress and for that mistress's son; she leaves the boy a gold watch and his mother the rest of her belongings. the only connexion that michael johnson would seem to have had with the woman was that he and his brother were called in after her decease to make an inventory of her little property. i think that these little facts about mistress blaney, her five years' residence at lichfield apparently in a most comfortable position, her omission of michael johnson from her will, and the fact that he had been in lichfield at least six months before she arrived, are conclusive. there is another picturesque fact about michael johnson that mr. reade has brought to light. it would seem that twenty years before his marriage to sarah ford, he had been on the eve of marriage to a young woman at derby, mary neyld; but the marriage did not take place, although the marriage bond was drawn out. mary was the daughter of luke neyld, a prominent tradesman of derby; she was twenty-three years of age at the time and michael twenty-nine. even mr. reade's industry has not been able to discover for us why at the very last moment the marriage was broken off. it explains, however, why michael johnson married late in life and his melancholia. the human romance that mr. reade has unveiled has surely a certain interest for johnsonians, for had michael johnson brought his first love affair to a happy conclusion, we should not have had the man described twenty years later as "possessed of a vile melancholy," who, when his wife's tongue wagged too much, got upon his horse and rode away. there would have been no samuel johnson, and there would have been no johnson club--a catastrophe which the human mind finds it hard to conceive of. two years after the breaking off of her engagement with michael johnson, i may add, mary neyld married one james warner. mr. reade also calls in question another statement of boswell's, that michael johnson was really apprenticed at leek in staffordshire; our only authority for this also is the excellent anna seward. further, it is sufficiently curious that the names of two samuel johnsons are recorded as being buried in one of the churches at lichfield, one before our samuel came into the world, the other three years later: of these, one died in , the other in . but these points, although of a certain interest, have nothing to do with dr. johnson's ancestry. now before we left our homes this evening, each member of the johnson brotherhood, as is his custom, turned up brother birkbeck hill's invaluable index to see what johnson had to say upon the subject of ancestry. we know that the doctor was very keen upon the founding of a family; that when mr. thrale lost his only son johnson's sympathies went out to him in a double way, and perhaps in the greater degree because as he said to boswell, "sir, don't you know how you yourself think? sir, he wished to propagate his name." johnson himself, boswell tells us, had no pretensions to blood. "i here may say," he said, "that i have great merit in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for i can hardly tell who was my grandfather." johnson further informed mrs. thrale that he did not delight in talking much of his family: "there is little pleasure," he says, "in relating the anecdotes of beggary." he constantly deprecated his origin. according to miss seward, he told his wife before he married her that he was of mean extraction; but the letter in which miss seward gives her version of johnson's courtship is worth recalling, although i do not believe a single word of it:-- the rustic prettiness and artless manners of her daughter, the present mrs. lucy porter, had won johnson's youthful heart, when she was upon a visit at my grandfather's in johnson's school-days. disgusted by his unsightly form, she had a personal aversion to him, nor could the beautiful verses he addressed to her teach her to endure him. the nymph at length returned to her parents at birmingham, and was soon forgotten. business taking johnson to birmingham on the death of his own father, and calling upon his coy mistress there, he found her father dying. he passed all his leisure hours at mr. porter's, attending his sick bed, and in a few months after his death, asked mrs. johnson's consent to marry the old widow. after expressing her surprise at a request so extraordinary--"no, sam, my willing consent you will never have to so preposterous a union. you are not twenty- five, and she is turned fifty. if she had any prudence, this request had never been made to me. where are your means of subsistence? porter has died poor, in consequence of his wife's expensive habits. you have great talents, but, as yet, have turned them into no profitable channel." "mother, i have not deceived mrs. porter: i have told her the worst of me; that i am of mean extraction; that i have no money, and that i have had an uncle hanged. she replied, that she valued no one more or less for his descent; that she had no more money than myself; and that, although she had not had a relation hanged, she had fifty who deserved hanging." now why did dr. johnson take this attitude about his ancestry, so contrary to the spirit that guided him where other people's genealogical trees were concerned? it was certainly not indifference to family ties, because brother birkbeck hill publishes many interesting letters written by johnson in old age, when finding that he had a certain sum of money to bequeath, he looked around to see if there were any of his own kin living. the number of letters the old man wrote, inquiring for this or that kinsman, are quite pathetic. it seems to me that it was really due to an ignorant vagueness as to his family history. during his early years his family had passed from affluence to penury. they were of a type very common in england, but very rare in scotland and ireland, that take no interest whatever in pedigrees, and never discuss any but their immediate relations, with whom, in the case of the johnsons, very friendly terms did not prevail. i think we should be astonished if we were to go into some shops in london of sturdy prosperous tradesmen in quite as good a position as old michael johnson, and were to try and draw out one or other individual upon his ancestry. we should promptly come against a blank wall. what then do we know of johnson's father from the ordinary sources? that he was a bookseller at lichfield, and that he was sheriff of that city in the year that his son samuel was born; that he feasted the citizens, as johnson tells us, in his _annals_, with "uncommon magnificence." he is described by johnson as "a foolish old man," because he talked with too fond a pride of his children and their precocious ways. he was a zealous high churchman and jacobite. we are told by boswell further, on the authority of mr. hector of birmingham, that he opened a bookstall once a week in that city, but lost money by setting up as a maker of parchment. "a pious and most worthy man," mrs. piozzi tells us of him, "but wrong- headed, positive and affected with melancholia." "i inherited a vile melancholy from my father," johnson tells us, "which has made me mad all my life." when he died in his effects were estimated at pounds. "my mother had no value for his relations," johnson tells us. "those we knew were much lower than hers." of michael johnson's brother, andrew, johnson's uncle, we know still less. from the various johnson books we only cull the story mentioned in mrs. piozzi's _anecdotes_. she relates that johnson, after telling her of the prowess of his uncle, cornelius ford, at jumping, went on to say that he had another uncle, andrew--"my father's brother, who kept the ring at smithfield for a whole year, and was never thrown or conquered. here are uncles for you, mistress, if that is the way to your heart." mr. reade has supplemented this by showing us that not only was andrew johnson a skilful wrestler, but that he was a very good bookseller. for a time he assisted his brother in the conduct of the business at lichfield. later, however, he settled as a bookseller at birmingham, which was to be his home until his death over thirty years later. here he published some interesting books; the title- pages of some of these are given by mr. reade, who reproduces of course his will. he had a son named thomas who fell on evil days. you will find certain letters to thomas in birkbeck hill's edition; dr. johnson frequently helped him with money. of more interest, however, than andrew johnson was catherine, the one sister of michael and andrew, an aunt of samuel's, who was evidently for some unknown reason ignored by her two brothers. here we are not on absolutely firm ground, but it seems to me clear that catherine johnson married into a position far above her brothers. a fortnight before his death dr. johnson wrote to the rev. william vyse, rector of lambeth; a letter in which he asked him to find out "whether charles skrymsher"--he misspelt it "scrimshaw"--"of woodseaves"--he misspelt it "woodease"--"in your neighbourhood, be now alive," and whether he could be found without delay. he added that "it will be an act of great kindness to me," charles skrymsher being "very nearly related." charles skrymsher was not found, and johnson told dr. vyse that he was disappointed in the inquiries that he had made for his relations. this particular relation, indeed, had been twenty-two years dead when dr. johnson, probably with the desire of leaving him something in his will, made these inquiries. his mother, mrs. gerald skrymsher, was michael johnson's sister. one of her daughters became the wife of thomas boothby. boothby was twice married, and his two wives were cousins, the first, elizabeth, being the daughter of one sir charles skrymsher, the second, hester, as i have said, of gerald skrymsher, dr. johnson's uncle. hence johnson had a cousin by marriage who was a potentate in his day, for it is told of thomas boothby of tooley park, grand-nephew of a powerful and wealthy baronet, that he was one of the fathers of english sport. an issue of _the field_ newspaper for contains an engraving of a hunting horn then in the possession of the late master of the cheshire hounds, and upon the horn is the inscription: "thomas boothby, esq., tooley park, leicester. with this horn he hunted the first pack of fox hounds then in england fifty-five years." he died in . his eldest son took the maternal name of skrymsher, and under the title of thomas boothby skrymsher became m.p. for leicester, and an important person in his day. his wife was anne, daughter of sir hugh clopton of new place, stratford- on-avon. admirers of mrs. gaskell will remember the clopton legend told by her in howett's _visits to remarkable places_. i wish that i had time to follow mr. reade through all the ramifications of an interesting family history, but i venture to think that there is something pathetic in dr. johnson's inquiries a fortnight before his death as to cousins of whose life story he knew nothing, whose well-known family home of woodseaves he--the great lexicographer--could not spell correctly, and of whose very name he was imperfectly informed. yet he, the lover of family trees and of ancestral associations, was all his life in ignorance of these wealthy connexions and their many substantial intermarriages. before mr. reade it was known that johnson's father was a manufacturer of parchment as well as a bookseller; but it was supposed that only in his last few years or so of life did he undertake this occupation which ruined him. mr. reade shows that he had been for thirty years engaged in this trade in parchment. brother birkbeck hill quotes croker, who hinted that johnson's famous definition of excise as "a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judge of property but by wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid," was inspired by recollections of his father's constant disputes with the excise officers. mr. reade has unearthed documents concerning the crisis of this quarrel, when michael johnson in was indicted "for useing ye trade of a tanner." the indictment, which is here printed in full, charges him, "one michael johnson, bookseller," "that he did in the third year of the reign of our lord george by the grace of god now king of great britain, for his own proper gain, get up, use and exercise the art, mystery or manual occupation of a byrseus, in english a tanner, in which art, mystery or manual occupation of a tanner the said michael johnson was not brought up or apprenticed for the space of seven years, an evil example of all others offending in such like case." michael's defence was that he was "tanned for" and did not tan himself, he being only "a merchant in skins tradeing to ireland, scotland and the furthermost parts of england." the only known example of michael johnson's handwriting is this defence. michael was committed for trial but acquitted. it is probable, however, that this prosecution laid the foundation of his ruin. but i must pass on to the other branch: the family of dr. johnson's mother. here dr. johnson did himself a great injustice, for he had a genuine right to count his mother's "an old family," although the term is in any case relative. at any rate he could carry his pedigree back to . "in the morning," says boswell, "we had talked of old families, and the respect due to them. johnson said-- "'sir, you have a right to that kind of respect, and are arguing for yourself. i am for supporting the principle, and i am disinterested in doing it, as i have no such right.'" nevertheless, boswell, in this opening chapter, refers to the mother as "sarah ford, descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in warwickshire," and johnson's epitaph upon his mother's tomb describes her as "of the ancient family of ford." thus one is considerably bewildered in attempting to reconcile johnson's attitude. the only one of his family for whom he seems to have had a good word was cornelius harrison, of whom, writing to mrs. thrale, he said that he was "perhaps the only one of my relations who ever rose in fortune above penury or in character above neglect." this cornelius was the son of john harrison, who had married johnson's aunt, phoebe ford. johnson's account of uncle john in his _annals_ is not flattering, but he was the son of a rector of pilborough, whose father was sir richard harrison, one of the gentlemen of the king's bedchamber, and a personality of a kind. cornelius, the reputable cousin, died in , but his descendants seem to have been a poor lot, whatever his ancestors may have been. mr. reade traces their history with all the relentlessness of the genealogist. johnson's great-grandfather was one henry ford, a yeoman in birmingham. one of his sons, henry, johnson's grand-uncle, was born in . he owned property at west bromwich and elsewhere, and was a fellow of clifford's inn, london. then we come to cornelius ford--"cornelius ford, gentleman," he is styled in his marriage settlement. cornelius died four months before samuel johnson was born. cornelius had a sister mary, who married one jesson, and their only son, i may mention incidentally, entered at pembroke college in , sixty years before his second-cousin, our samuel, entered the same college. another cousin by marriage was a mrs. harriots, to whom johnson refers in his _annals_, and also in his _prayers and meditations_. the only one of cornelius ford's family referred to in the biographies is joseph ford, the father of the notorious parson ford, johnson's cousin, of whom he several times speaks. joseph was a physician of eminence who settled at stourbridge. he married a wealthy widow, mrs. hickman. he was a witness to the marriage of his sister sarah to michael johnson. there can be no doubt but that the presence of dr. ford and his family at stourbridge accounts for johnson being sent there to school in . he stayed in the house of his cousin cornelius ford, not as boswell says his _uncle_ cornelius, at pedmore, about a mile from stourbridge. he walked in every day to the grammar school. a connexion of the boy, gregory hickman, was residing next to the grammar school. a kinsman of johnson and a descendant of hickman, dr. freer, still lives in the house. i met him at lichfield recently, and he has sent me a photograph of the very house, which stands to-day much as it did when johnson visited it, and wrote at twenty-two, a sonnet to dorothy hickman "playing at the spinet." dorothy was one of johnson's three early loves, with ann hector and olivia lloyd. dorothy married dr. john turtin and had an only child, dr. turtin, the celebrated physician who attended goldsmith in his last illness. i have not time to go through the record of all dr. johnson's uncles on the maternal side, and do full justice to mr. reade's industry and mastery of detail. i may, however, mention incidentally that the uncle who was hanged, if one was, must have been one of his father's brothers, for to the fords that distinction does not seem to have belonged. much that is entertaining is related of the cousin parson ford, who, after sharing with the famous earl of chesterfield in many of his profligacies, received from his lordship the rectory of south luffenham. there is no evidence, however, that chesterfield ever knew that his at one time chaplain and boon companion was cousin of the man who wrote him the most famous of letters. the mother of cornelius ford was a crowley, and this brings johnson into relationship with london city worthies, for mrs. ford's brother was sir ambrose crowley, kt., alderman, of london, the original of addison's jack anvil. one of sir ambrose crowley's daughters married humphrey parsons, sometime m.p. for london and twice lord mayor. thus we see that during the very years of johnson's most painful struggle in london one of his distant cousins or connexions was chief magistrate of this city. another connexion, elizabeth crowley, was married in at westminster abbey to john, tenth lord st. john of bletsoe. "here are ancestors for you, mistress," dr. johnson might have said to mrs. thrale if he had only known--if he had had a genealogist at his elbow as well as a pushful biographer. mr. reade prints the whole of the marriage settlement upon the union of johnson's mother and father. it is a very elaborate document, and suggests the undoubted prosperity of the parties at the time. the husband was fifty, the bride thirty-seven. samuel was not born until three years and three months after the marriage. the pair frequently in early married life received assistance by convenient deaths as the following extracts from wills indicate:-- _cornelius ford of packwood in the co. of warwick_. i give and bequeath unto my son-in-law michaell johnson the sum of five pounds, and to his wife my daughter five and twenty pounds. proved may , . _jane ford of old turnford_, _widow of joseph ford_. i do will and appoint that my son cornelius ford do and shall pay to my brother-in-law, mr. michael johnson and his wife and their trustees, the sum of pounds which is directed by his late father's will to be paid to me and in lieu of so much moneys which my said late husband received in trust for my said brother johnson and his wife. proved at worcester, october , . then "good cousin harriotts" does not forget them:-- i give and bequeath to my cousin sarah the wife of michael johnson the like sum of pounds for her own separate use, and one pair of my best flaxen sheets and pillow coats, a large pewter dish and a dozen of pewter plates, provided that her husband doth at the same time give the like bond to my executor to permit his wife to dispose of the same at her will and pleasure. elizabeth harriotts of trysall in staff., october , . but i must leave this fascinating volume. i cannot find time to tell you all it has to say about the porter family. mr. reade is as informative when treating of the porters, of mrs. johnson and her daughter lucy, as he is with the family trees of which i have spoken. i hasten on to dr. hill's _life_, with which i am only concerned here at the point where it is affected by mr. reade's book. the reflection inevitably arises that it is well-nigh impossible efficiently to do work involving research unless one has an income derived from other sources. your historian in proportion to the value of his work must be a rich man, and so must the biographer. good as brother birkbeck hill's work was, it would have been better if he had had more money. he might have had many of these wills and other documents copied, upon the securing of which mr. reade must have expended such very large sums. dr. hill was fully alive to this. "if i had not some private means," he wrote to a friend in , "i could never edit johnson and boswell; but i do not get so well paid as a carpenter." as a matter of fact, i find that he lost exactly pounds by publishing _dr. johnson_: _his friends and his critics_. he made pounds by the first four years' sale of the "boswell." this pounds, including american rights, made the bulk of his payments for his many years' work, and the book has not yet gone into a second edition. i think , were printed. there were between , and , copies of croker's editions sold, so that we must not be too boastful as to the improved taste of the present age. pounds is a mere bagatelle to numbers of our present writers of utterly foolish fiction. several of them have been known to spend double that sum on a single motor-car. in connexion with this matter i cannot refrain from giving one passage from a letter of brother hill's:-- my old friend d--- lamented that the two new volumes (of my _johnson miscellanies_) are so dear as to be above his reach. the net price is a guinea. on sunday he had eight glasses of hollands and seltzer--a shilling each, a pint of stout and some cider, besides half a dozen cigars or so. two days' abstinence from cigars and liquor would have paid for my book. mrs. crump, who writes her father's life, has expressed regret to me that there is so little in the book concerning the johnson club to which brother hill was so devoted. she had asked me for letters, but i felt that all in my possession were unsuited for publication, dealing rather freely with living persons. brother hill was impatient of the mere bookmaker--the literary charlatan who wrote without reading sufficiently. there are two pleasant glimpses of our club in the volume; i quote one. it was of the night that we discussed _dr. johnson as a radical_:-- i wish that you and lucy could have been present last night and witnessed my scene of triumph. i was indeed most nobly welcomed. the scribe told me with sympathetic pride that the correspondent of the _new york herald_ had asked leave to attend, as he wished to telegraph my paper out to america!!! as well as the discussion. there were some very good speeches made in the discussion that followed, especially by a mr. whale, a solicitor, who spoke remarkably well and with great knowledge of his _boswell_. he said that he preferred to call it, not johnson's radical side, but his humanitarian side. mr. birrell, the _obiter dicta_ man, also spoke very well. he is a clever fellow. he was equally complimentary. he maintained in opposition to mr. whale that radical was the right term, and in fact that radicalism and humanitarianism were the same. many of them said what a light the paper had thrown on johnson's character. one gentleman came up and congratulated me on the very delicate way in which i had handled so difficult a subject, and had not given offence to the liberal unionists and tories present. edmund gosse, by whom i sat, was most friendly, and called the paper a wonderful _tour de force_, referring to the way in which i had linked johnson's sayings. he asked me to visit him some day at trinity college, cambridge, and assured me of a hearty welcome. it is no wonder that what with the supper and the smoke i did not get to sleep till after two. among the guests was the great bonner, the australian cricketer, whose health had been drunk with that of the other visitors, and his praise sounded at having hit some balls over the pavilion at lord's. with great simplicity he said that after seeing the way in which johnson's memory was revered, he would much rather have been such a man than have gained his own greatest triumphs at cricket. he did not say it jocularly at all. another letter from dr. hill describes how he found himself at ashbourne in derbyshire with the club, or rather with a fragment of it. he wrote from the _green man_ there concerning his adventures. i have far exceeded my time, but i would like in conclusion to say how admirably his daughter has written this book on our brother birkbeck hill. what a pleasant picture it presents of a genuine lover of literature. his was not an analytical mind nor was he a great critic. his views on dante and newman will not be shared by any of us. but, what is far more important than analysis or criticism, he had an entirely lovable personality and was a most clubbable man. he was moreover the ideal editor of boswell. what more could be said in praise of a beloved brother of the johnson club! vii. the private life of ferdinand lassalle { } ich habe die inventur meines lebens gemacht. es war gross, brav, wacker, tapfer und glanzend genug. eine kunftige zeit wird mir gerecht zu warden wissen. --ferdinand lassalle, _august_ , . i. the countess sophie von hatzfeldt. ferdinand lassalle was born at breslau on april , . his parents were of jewish race, his father a successful silk merchant. from boyhood he was now the tyrant, now the slave of a mother whom he loved and by whom he was adored. heymann lassal--his son changed the spelling during his paris sojourn--appears to have been irritable and tyrannical; and there are some graphic instances in the recently published "diary" { } of the differences between them, ending on one occasion in the boy rushing to the river, where his terrified father finds him hesitating on the brink, and becomes reconciled. a more attractive picture of the old man is that told of his visit to his son-in-law, friedland, who had married lassalle's sister. friedland was ashamed of his jewish origin, and old lassalle startled the guests at dinner by rising and frankly stating that he was a jew, that his daughter was a jewess, and that her husband was of the same race. the guests cheered, but the host never forgave his too frank father-in-law. lassalle was a student at breslau university, and later at berlin, where he laid the foundation of those hegelian studies to which he owed his political philosophy. in he went to paris, and there secured the friendship of heine, being included with george sand in the interesting circle around the "mattress grave" of the sick poet. among heine's letters { } there are four addressed to lassalle, now as "dear and best beloved friend," now as "dearest brother-in-arms." "be assured," he says, "that i love you beyond measure. i have never before felt so much confidence in any one." "i have found in no one," he says again, "so much passion and clearness of intellect united in action. you have good right to be audacious--we others only usurp this divine right, this heavenly privilege." and to varnhagen von ense he writes:-- my friend, herr lassalle, who brings you this letter, is a young man of the most remarkable intellectual gifts. with the most thorough erudition, with the widest learning, with the greatest penetration that i have ever known, and with the richest gift of exposition, he combines an energy of will and a capacity for action which astonish me. . . . in no one have i found united so much enthusiasm and practical intelligence. "in every line," says brandes, "this letter shows the far-seeing student of life, indeed, the prophet!" lassalle is not backward in reciprocating the enthusiasm. "i love heine," he declares; "he is my second self. what audacity! what crushing eloquence! he knows how to whisper like a zephyr when it kisses rose-blooms, how to breathe like fire when it rages and destroys; he calls forth all that is tenderest and softest, and then all that is fiercest and most daring. he has the command of all the range of feeling." lassalle's sympathy with heine never lessened. it was heine who lost grasp of the intrinsically higher nature of his countryman and co-religionist, and an acute difference occurred, as we shall see, when lassalle interfered in the affairs of the countess von hatzfeldt. introduced to the countess by his friend dr. mendelssohn, in , lassalle felt that here in concrete form was scope for all his enthusiasm of humanity, and he determined to devote his life to championing the cause of the oppressed lady. { } the countess was the wife of a wealthy and powerful nobleman, who ill-treated her shamefully. he imprisoned her in his castles, refused her doctors and medicine in sickness, and carried off her children. her own family, as powerful as the count, had often intervened, and the count's repentances were many but short-lived. in matters reached a crisis. the count wrote to his second son, paul, asking him to leave his mother. the boy carried this letter to the countess; and lassalle relates that, finding the lady in tears, he persuaded her to a full disclosure of the facts. he pledged himself to save her, and for nine years carried on the struggle, with ultimate victory, but with considerable loss of reputation. he first told the story to mendelssohn and oppenheim, two friends of great wealth, the latter a judge of one of the superior courts in prussia. they agreed to help him; for then, as always, lassalle's persuasive powers were irresistible. they went with him from berlin to dusseldorf, the count being in that neighbourhood. von hatzfeldt was at aix-la-chapelle, caught in the toils of a new mistress, the baroness meyendorff. lassalle discovered that she had obtained from the count a deed assigning to her some property which should in the ordinary course have come to the boy paul. the countess, hearing of the disaster which seemed likely to befall her favourite son, made her way into her husband's presence, and in the scene which followed secured a promise that the document should be revoked--destroyed. but no sooner had she left him than the count returned to the meyendorff influence, and refused to see his wife again. soon afterwards it was discovered that the woman had set out for cologne. lassalle begged his friends oppenheim and mendelssohn, to follow her and, if possible, to ascertain whether the momentous document had actually been destroyed. they obeyed, and reached the hotel at cologne about the same time as the baroness. here they were guilty of an indiscretion, if of nothing worse, for which lassalle can surely in no way be blamed, but which was used for many a year to tarnish his name. oppenheim, on his way upstairs, observed a servant with the luggage of the baroness; among other things a desk or casket of a kind commonly used to carry valuable papers. thinking only of the fact that it was desirable to obtain a certain document from the brutal count, he pounced upon the casket when the servant's back was turned. but he had no luggage with him in which to conceal it, and so handed it to mendelssohn. mendelssohn, although fully sensible of the blunder that had been committed, could not desert his friend, and placed the casket in his trunk. the whole hotel was in an uproar when the baroness discovered her loss. the friends fled panic-stricken in opposite directions. suspicion immediately fell upon dr. mendelssohn, because his room was seen to have been left in confusion. he was pursued, but succeeded in escaping from a railway carriage and fleeing to paris, leaving his luggage in the hands of the police. in his box some papers were found which incriminated oppenheim; and oppenheim, a judge of one of the superior courts, and the son of a millionaire, was arrested and imprisoned for theft! lassalle visited oppenheim in prison, and extracted from him a promise of silence as to the motive for his conduct. he then threw himself vigorously into the struggle, both in the press and in the law courts. here he seems to have parted company with heine, because, as he tells us, "the baroness meyendorff was a friend of the princess de lieven, and the princess de lieven was the mistress of guizot, and heine received a pension from guizot." oppenheim was acquitted in , and mendelssohn, who was really innocent of the actual robbery, naturally thought it safe to return to germany. he was, however, tried before the assize court of cologne, and sentenced to five years' imprisonment. alexander von humboldt obtained a reduction of the sentence to one year, but on condition that mendelssohn should leave europe. he went, after his release from prison, to constantinople, and when the crimean war broke out joined the turkish army, dying on the march in . meanwhile germany rang for many years with the story of the so-called robbery, and lassalle's name was even more associated therewith than were those of his more culpable friends. and this was not unnatural, because he was engaged year after year in continuous warfare with count hatzfeldt. at length, in , about the time that the unfortunate dr. mendelssohn died in the east, he secured for the countess complete separation and an ample provision. lassalle's friendship with this lady inevitably gave rise to scandal. but never surely was scandal so little justified. she was twenty years his senior, and the relation was clearly that of mother and son. in her letters he is always "my dear child," and in his she is the confidante of the innumerable troubles of mind and of heart of which so impressionable a man as ferdinand lassalle had more than his share. "you are without reason and judgment where women are concerned," she tells him, when he confides to her his passion for helene von donniges; and the remark opens out a vista of confidences of which the world happily knows but little. from the assize court of dusseldorf, of all places, we have a very definite glimpse of a good-looking man, likely to be a favourite in the society of the opposite sex:-- "ferdinand lassalle," runs the official document, "aged twenty-three, a civilian, born at breslau, and dwelling recently at berlin. stands five feet six inches in height, has brown curly hair, open forehead, brown eyebrows, dark blue eyes, well proportioned nose and mouth, and rounded chin." he was indeed a favourite in berlin drawing-rooms, pronounced a "wunderkind" by humboldt, and enthusiastically admired on all sides. but, assuming the story of sophie solutzeff to be mythical, there is no evidence that lassalle had ever had any very serious romance in his life until he met helene von donniges. _es ist eine alte geschichte_, _doch bleibt sie immer neu_.--heine. ii. helene von donniges helene von donniges has told us the story in fullest detail--the story of that tragic love which was to send lassalle to his too early death. she was the daughter of a bavarian diplomatist who had held appointments in italy, and later in switzerland. she was betrothed as a child of twelve to an italian of forty years of age. at a time when, as she says, her thoughts should have been concentrated upon her studies, they were distracted by speculations on marriage and the marriage tie. a young wallachian student named yanko racowitza crossed her path. his loneliness--he was far from home and friends--kindled her sympathy. dark and ugly, she compared him to othello, and called him her "moor." in spite of some parental opposition she insisted upon plighting her troth to him, and the italian lover was scornfully dismissed. then comes the opening scene of the present story. it was in berlin, whither helen--we will adopt the english spelling of the name--had travelled with her grandmother in , that she was asked at a ball the momentous question, "do you know lassalle?" she had never heard his name. her questioner was baron korff, a son-in-law of meyerbeer, who, charmed by her originality, remarked that she and lassalle were made for one another. two weeks later her curiosity was further excited, when dr. karl oldenberg let fall some similar remark as to her intellectual kinship with the mysterious lassalle. she asked her grandmother about him, and was told that he was a "shameless demagogue." then she turned to her lover, who promised to inquire. racowitza brought her information about the countess, the casket, and other "sensations"--only to excite her curiosity the more. finally a friend, frau hirsemenzel, undertook to introduce her to the notorious socialist. the introduction took place at a party, and if her account is to be trusted, no romance could be more dramatic than the actuality. they loved one another at first sight, conversed with freedom, and he called her by an endearing name as he offered her his arm to escort her home. "somehow it did not seem at all remarkable," she says, "that a stranger should thus call me 'du' on first acquaintance. we seemed to fit to one another so perfectly." she was in her nineteenth year, lassalle in his thirty-ninth. the pair did not see one another again for some months, not in fact until helen visited berlin as the guest of a certain lawyer holthoff. here she met lassalle at a concert, and the friendly lawyer connived at their being more than once together. at a ball, on one occasion, lassalle asked her what she would do if he were sentenced to death, and she beheld him ascending the scaffold. "i should wait till your head was severed," was her answer, "in order that you might look upon your beloved to the last, and then--i should take poison." he was pleased with her reply, but declared that there was no fear--his star was in the ascendant! and so it seemed; for although young racowitza even then accosted him in the ballroom, the friendly holthoff soon arranged an informal betrothal; and lassalle was on the eve of a great public triumph which seemed more likely to take him to the throne than to the scaffold. to many this will seem an exaggeration. yet hear prince bismarck in the reichstag seventeen years after lassalle's death:-- he was one of the most intellectual and gifted men with whom i have ever had intercourse, a man who was ambitious in high style, but who was by no means republican: he had very decided national and monarchical sympathies, and the idea which he strove to realize was the german empire, and therein we had a point of contact. lassalle was extremely ambitious, and it was perhaps a matter of doubt to him whether the german empire would close with the hohenzollern dynasty or the lassalle dynasty; but he was monarchical through and through. lassalle was an energetic and very intellectual man, to talk with whom was very instructive. our conversations lasted for hours, and i was always sorry when they came to an end. { } the year , which was to close so tragically, opened indeed with extraordinary promise. lassalle left berlin in may--helen had gone back to geneva two or three months earlier--travelling by leipzig and cologne through the rhenish provinces, and holding a "glorious review" the while. "i have never seen anything like it," he writes to the countess von hatzfeldt. "the entire population indulged in indescribable jubilation. the impression made upon me was that such scenes must have attended the founding of new religions." and it appeared possible that heine's description of lassalle as the messiah of the nineteenth century was to be realized. the bishop of mayence was on his side, and the king of prussia sympathetic. as he passed from town to town the whole population turned out to do him honour. countless thousands met him at the stations: the routes were ornamented with triumphal arches, the houses decorated with wreaths, and flowers were thrown upon him as he passed. as the cavalcade approached the town of ronsdorf, for example, it was easy to see that the people were on tip-toe with expectation. at the entrance an arch bore the inscription:-- willkommen dem dr. ferdinand lassalle viel tausendmal im ronsdorfer thal! under arches and garlands, smothered with flowers thrown by young work- girls, whose fathers, husbands, brothers, cheered again and again, lassalle and his friends entered the town, while a vast multitude followed in procession. it was at ronsdorf that lassalle made the speech which had in it something of fateful presentiment:-- "i have not grasped this banner," he said, "without knowing quite clearly that i myself may fall. the feelings which fill me at the thought that i may be removed cannot be better expressed than in the words of the roman poet: '_exoriare aliquis nostris ex ossibus ultor_!' or in german, '_moge_, _wenn ich beseitigt werde_, _irgend ein racher und nachfolger aus meinen gebeinen auferstehen_!' may this great and national movement of civilization not fall with my person, but may the conflagration which i have kindled spread farther and farther, so long as one of you still breathes. promise me that, and in token raise your right hands." all hands were raised in silence, and the impressive scene closed with a storm of acclamation. but lassalle was worn out, and he fled for a time from the storm and conflict to switzerland. helen at geneva heard of his sojourn at righi- kaltbad, and she made an excursion thither with two or three friends, and thus on july ( ) the lovers met again. an account of their romantic interview comes to us in helen's own diary and in the letter which lassalle wrote to the countess hatzfeldt two days later. helen tells how they climbed the kulm together, discussing by the way the question of their marriage and the possibility of opposition. "what have your parents against me?" asked lassalle; and was told that only once had she mentioned his name before them, and that their horror of the jew agitator had ever since closed her mouth. so the conversation sped. the next morning their hope of "a sunrise" was destroyed by a fog. "how often," says helen, "when in later years i have stood upon the summit of the righi and seen the day break in all its splendour, have i recalled this foggy, damp morning, and lassalle's disappointment!" as he looked upon her, so pale and trembling, he abused the climate, and promised that he would give up politics, devote himself to science and literature, and take her to egypt or india. he talked to her of the countess, "who will think only of my happiness," and he talked of religion. was his jewish faith against him in her eyes? mahommedanism and judaism, it was all one to her, was the answer, but paganism by preference! they parted, to correspond immediately, and lassalle to write to the astonished, and in this affair, unsympathetic countess, of the meeting with his beloved. with the utmost friendliness, however, he endeavoured to keep the elder lady at a distance for a time. on july helen writes to him, repeating her promise to become his wife. you said to me yesterday: "say but a sensible and decided 'yes'--_et je me charge du reste_." good; i say "yes"--_chargez-vous donc du reste_. i only require that we first do all in our power to win my parents to a friendly attitude. to me belongs, however, a painful task. i must slay in cold blood the true heart of yanko von racowitza, who has given me the purest love, the noblest devotion. with heartless egotism i must destroy the day-dream of a noble youth. but for your sake i will even do what is wrong. meanwhile lassalle's unhappy attempts to conciliate the countess continue. he writes of helen's sympathy and dwells upon her entire freedom from jealousy. he tells frau von hatzfeldt how much helen is longing to see his old friend. in conclusion, as though not to show himself too blind a lover, he remarks that helen's one failing is a total lack of will. "when, however, we are man and wife," he adds, "then shall i have 'will' enough for both, and she will be as clay in the hands of the potter." the countess continues obdurate, and in a further letter (aug. ) lassalle says:-- it is really a piece of extraordinary good fortune that, at the age of thirty-nine and a half, i should be able to find a wife so beautiful, so sympathetic, who loves me so much, and who--an indispensable requirement--is so entirely absorbed in my personality. at lassalle's request, helen herself wrote thus to the baroness von hatzfeldt:-- dear and beloved countess,-- armed with an introduction from my lord and master, i, his affianced wife, come to you--unhappily only in writing--_le coeur et la main ouverte_, and beg of you a little of that friendship which you have given to him so abundantly. how deeply do i regret that your illness separates us, that i cannot tell you face to face how much i love and honour him, how ardently i long for your help and advice as to how i can best make my beautiful and noble eagle happy. this my first letter must necessarily seem somewhat constrained to you; for i am an insignificant, unimportant being, who can do nothing but love and honour him, and strive to make him happy. i would fain dance and sing like a child, and drive away all care from him. my one desire is to understand his great and noble nature, and in good fortune and in bad to stand faithful and true by his side. then followed a further appeal for the love and help of this friend of lassalle's early years. it was all in vain. instead of a letter, helen received from the countess what she called "a scrawl," and lassalle a long homily on his lack of judgment and foresight. lassalle defended himself, and so the not too pleasing correspondence went on. yet these days in berne were the happiest in the lives of lassalle and his betrothed. helen was staying with a madame aarson, and was constantly visited by her lover. it was agreed between them that lassalle should follow her to geneva, and see her parents. but no sooner had he entered his room at the pension leovet, in the neighbourhood of the house of herr von donniges, than a servant handed him a letter from helen. it told how on her arrival she had found the whole house excited by the betrothal of her sister margaret to count von keyserling. her mother's delight in the engagement had tempted her (contrary to lassalle's express wish) to confidences, and she had told of her love for the arch-agitator. her mother had turned upon her with loathing, execrated lassalle without stint, spoken scornfully of the countess, the casket robbery, and kindred matters. "it is quite impossible," urged the frantic woman, "that count keyserling will unite himself to a family with a connexion of this kind." the father joined in the upbraiding, the disowning of an undutiful daughter. one has but to remember the vulgar, tradesman instinct, which then, as now, guides the marriage ideals of a certain class, to take in the whole situation at a glance. lassalle had hardly begun to read the letter when helen appeared before him, and begged him to take her away immediately--to france--anywhere! her father's violence, her mother's abuse, had driven her to despair. lassalle was indignant with her. why had she not obeyed him? he would speak to her father. all would yet be well. but--she was compromised there--at his hotel. had she a friend in the neighbourhood? at this moment her maid came in to say that there was a carriage ready to take them to the station. a train would start for paris in a quarter of an hour. helen renewed her entreaty, but lassalle remained resolute. he would only receive her from her father. to what friend could he take her? helen named madame caroline rognon, who beheld them with astonishment. a few minutes later frau von donniges and her daughter margaret entered the house. then followed a disagreeable scene between lassalle and the mother, ending, after many scornful words thrown at the ever self-restrained lover, in helen being carried off before his eyes--indeed, by his wish. lassalle had shown dignity and self-restraint, but he had killed the girl's love--until it was too late. duhring speaks of lassalle's "inconceivable stupidity," and there is a great temptation at this date, with all the circumstances before us, to look at the matter with duhring's eyes. but to one whom heine had called a messiah, whom humboldt had termed a "wunderkind," and bismarck had greeted as among the greatest men of the age, it may well have seemed flatly inconceivable that this insignificant little swiss diplomatist could long refuse the alliance he proposed. yet stronger and more potent may have been the feeling--although of this there is no positive evidence extant--that the social movement which he had so much at heart could not well endure a further scandal. the hatzfeldt story had been used against him frequently enough. an elopement--so sweetly romantic under some circumstances--would have been the ruin of his great political reputation. lassalle speedily regretted his course of action--what man in love would not have done so?--but his first impulse was consistent with the life of strenuous effort for the cause he had embraced. to a romantic girl, however, his conduct could but seem brutal and treacherous. helen had done more than enough. she had compromised herself irretrievably, and an immediate marriage was imperatively demanded by the conventionalities. she was, however, seized by a brutal father and confined to her room, until she understood that lassalle had left geneva. then the entreaties of her family, the representation that her sister's marriage, even her father's position, were in jeopardy, caused her to declare that she would abandon lassalle. at this point the story is conflicting. helen herself says that she never saw lassalle again after he had handed her over to her mother, and that after a long period of ill-usage and petty persecution, she was hurried one night across the lake. becker, however, declares that as lassalle and his friend rustow were walking in geneva a carriage passed them on the way to the station containing helen and another lady, and that helen acknowledged their salute. anyway, it is clear that helen went to bex on august , and that lassalle left geneva on the th. letter after letter was sent by lassalle to helen--one from karlsruhe on the th, and one from munich on the th, but no answer. in karlsruhe, according to von hofstetten, lassalle wept like a child. his correspondence with the countess and with colonel rustow becomes forcible in its demands for assistance. writing to rustow, he tells of a two hours' conversation with the bavarian minister for foreign affairs, baron von schrenk, who assures him of his sympathy, says that he cannot understand the objections of von donniges, and that in similar circumstances he would be proud of the alliance, although he deprecated the political views of lassalle. finally this accommodating minister of state--here, at least, the tragi-comedy is but too apparent--engages to send a lawyer, dr. haenle, as an official commissioner to negotiate with the obdurate father and refractory ambassador. richard wagner, the great composer, the bishop of mayence, and noblemen, generals, and scholars without number were also pressed into the service, but in vain. the treachery of intimate friends more than counterbalanced all that could be achieved by well-meaning strangers. if helen is to be believed--and the charge is not denied--lassalle's friend holthoff, sent to negotiate in his favour, entreated her to abandon lassalle, and to comply with her parents' wishes. lassalle, he declared, was not in any way a suitable husband, and her father had decided wisely. the poor girl lived in a constant atmosphere of petty persecution. her father, she was told, might lose his post in the bavarian service if she married this socialist, her brother would have absolutely no career open to him, her sisters could not marry in their own rank of life; in fact, the whole family were alleged to be entirely unhappy and miserable through her stubbornness. the following letter--obviously dictated--was the not unnatural outcome:-- to herr lassalle. sir,-- i have again become reconciled to my betrothed bridegroom, herr yanko von racowitza, whose love i have regained, and i deeply repent my earlier action. i have given notice of this to your legal representative, herr holthoff, and i now declare to you of my own free will and firm conviction, that there never can be any further question of a marriage between us, and that i hold myself in all respects to be released from such an engagement. i am now firmly resolved to devote to my aforesaid betrothed bridegroom my eternal love and fidelity. helene von donniges. this letter came through rustow, and lassalle addressed the following reply to helen, which, however, she never received--it came in fact into the possession of the countess--a sufficient commentary on the duplicity and the false friendship not only of holthoff, but of colonel rustow and the countess hatzfeldt in this sad affair. munich, _aug._ , . helen,-- my heart is breaking! rustow's letter will kill me. that you have betrayed me seems impossible! even now i cannot believe in such shamelessness, in such frightful treachery. it is only for a moment that some one has overridden your will and obliterated your true self. it is inconceivable that this can be your real, your abiding determination. you cannot have thrown aside all shame, all love, all fidelity, all truth. if you did, you would dishonour and disfigure humanity. there can be no truth left in the world if you are false, if you are capable of descending to this depth of abandonment, of breaking such holy oaths, of crushing my heart. then there is nothing more under the sun in which a man can still believe. have you not filled me with a longing to possess you? have you not implored me to exhaust all proper measures, before carrying you away from wabern? have you not by your own lips and by your letters, sworn to me the most sacred oaths? have you not declared to me, even in your last letters, that you were nothing, nothing but my loving wife, and that no power on earth should stay your resolution? and now, after you have bound this true heart of mine to yourself so strongly, this heart which when once it gives itself away gives itself for ever; now, when the battle has scarcely begun, do you cast me off? do you betray me? do you destroy me? if so, you succeed in doing what else no fate can do; you will have crushed and shattered one of the hardest of men, who could withstand unflinchingly all outward storms. no, i can never survive such treachery. it will kill me inwardly and outwardly. it is not possible that you are so dishonourable, so shameless, so reckless of duty, so utterly unworthy and infamous. if you were, you would deserve of me the most deadly hatred. you would deserve the contempt of the world. helen, it is not your own resolution which you have communicated to rustow. some one has fastened it upon you by a coercion of your better feelings. listen to me. if you abide by this resolution, you will lament it as long as you live. helen, true to my words, "_je me charge du reste_," i shall stay here, and shall take all possible steps to break down your father's opposition. i have already excellent means in my hand, which will certainly not remain unused, and if they do not succeed, i shall still possess thousands of other means, and i will grind all hindrances to dust if you will but remain true to me. if you remain true, there is no limit to my strength or to my love of you, _je me charge toujours du reste_! the battle is hardly begun, you cowardly girl. but can it be, that while i sit here, and have already achieved what seemed impossible, you are betraying me, and listening to the flattering words of another man? helen, my fate is in your hands! but if you destroy me by this wicked treachery, from which i cannot recover, then may evil fall upon you, and my curse follow you to the grave! this is the curse of a true heart, of a heart that you wantonly break, and with which you have cruelly trifled. yes, this curse of mine will surely strike you. according to rustow's message, you want your letters to be returned to you. in any case, you will never receive them otherwise than from me--after a personal interview. for i must and will speak to you personally, and to you alone. i must and will hear my death-doom from your own lips. it is only thus that i can believe what otherwise seems impossible to me. i am continuing here to take further steps to win you, and when i have done all that is possible, i shall come to geneva. helen, our destinies are entwined! f. lassalle. { } it is pitiable to realize the amount of false or imperfect friendship which led lassalle on to his ruin. rustow was false, and holthoff was false, if it were not rather that both looked upon lassalle's affection for this girl, half his age, as a mad freak to be cured and forgotten. more might have been expected from the countess, to whom lassalle had given so much pure and disinterested devotion; but here again, a sense of maternal ownership in lassalle was sufficient to justify, in such a woman, any means to keep him apart from this fancy of the hour. to the countess, however, helen had turned for help, and had received a note which had but enraged her, and made the breach between her and lassalle yet wider. in the after years, helen published one letter and the countess another as the actual reply of the countess to helen's appeal, and the truth will now never be known. meanwhile dr. arndt, a nephew of von donniges, had gone to berlin to fetch yanko von racowitza. of yanko helen has herself given us a pleasant picture, as the one man for whom she really cared until the overwhelming presence of lassalle appeared upon the scene, as her one friend during her persecution. absent from lassalle's influence, it was not strange that the delicate wallachian--even younger than herself and the slave of her every whim--should have an influence in her life. had lassalle, however, had yet another personal interview with her, there can scarcely be a doubt that she would have been as he had once said, "as clay in the hands of the potter"--but this was not to be. lassalle came back to geneva on august , and immediately wrote an earnest letter to herr von donniges, begging for an interview, and stating that he had not the least enmity towards him for what had happened. with the fear of the foreign minister at munich before his eyes helen's father could not well refuse again, and the interview took place. lassalle, according to von donniges, demanded that yanko von racowitza should be forbidden the house, while he himself should have ready access to helen. he further charged von donniges with cruelty to his daughter, and was called a liar to his face, while even the cook was called upon the scene to give her evidence as to the domestic ethics of this family circle. the letter of von donniges to dr. haenle was clearly meant to be shown to the foreign minister, and the wily diplomatist naturally took the opportunity both to justify himself and to vilify lassalle. then began a painful dispute as to whether herr von donniges had ill-used his daughter; the overwhelming evidence, which includes the testimony of that daughter, written long after her father's death, tending to prove the truth of lassalle's allegation. lassalle meanwhile found no opportunity of approaching helen, and having every reason to believe that she was entirely faithless, gave up the struggle. he referred to the girl in language characteristic of a despairing and jilted lover, and sent von donniges a challenge, although many years before, in a political controversy, he had declined to fight--on principle. his seconds were to be general becker and colonel rustow, and the latter has left us a long account of the affair. on the appointed day, august , rustow went everywhere to look for herr von donniges, but the minister had fled to berne. rustow then saw lassalle at the rooms of the countess von hatzfeldt. lassalle mentioned that he had that morning had his challenge accepted by von racowitza, whose seconds were count keyserling and dr. arndt. rustow insisted, both to lassalle and to racowitza's friends, that von donniges should have priority, but was overruled; and it was agreed that the duel should be fought that very evening. rustow protested that he could not find another second in so short a time--general becker does not seem to have been available--but at length it was arranged that general bethlem should be asked to fill the office, and that the duel should take place on the following morning, august . there seems to have been considerable difficulty in finding suitable pistols, and at the last moment general bethlem declined to be a second, and herr von hofstetten consented to act. rustow called upon lassalle at the victoria hotel at five o'clock. at half-past six the party started for carouge, a village in the neighbourhood of geneva, which they reached an hour later. lassalle was quite cheerful, and perfectly confident that he would come unharmed out of the conflict. the opponents faced one another and racowitza wounded lassalle, who was carried by rustow and dr. seiler to a coach, and thence to the victoria hotel, geneva. he suffered dreadfully both then and afterwards, and was only relieved by a plentiful use of opium. three days later, on wednesday, august , , he died. was it the chance shot of a delicate boy that killed one of the most remarkable men of the nineteenth century, or was it a planned attack upon one who loved the people? this last view was taken and is still taken by many of his followers; but it is needless to say that it has no foundation in fact. lassalle was killed by a chance shot, and killed in a duel which had not even the doubtful justification of hatred of his opponent. "count me no longer as a rival; for you i have nothing but friendship," were the words written to racowitza at the moment that he challenged von donniges, and he declared on his death-bed that he died by his own hand. the revolutionists of all lands assembled around his dead body, which was embalmed by order of the countess. this woman talked loudly of vengeance, called not only von racowitza but helen a murderer, { } little thinking that posterity would judge her more hardly than helen. she proposed to take the corpse in solemn procession through germany; but an order from the prussian government disturbed her plans, and at breslau, lassalle's native town, it was allowed to rest. lassalle is buried in the family vault in the jewish cemetery, and a simple monument bears the inscription: here rests what is mortal of ferdinand lassalle, the thinker and the fighter. to understand the whole tragedy and to justify its great victim is to feel something of the strain which comes to every thinker and fighter who, like lassalle, writes and speaks persistently to vast audiences, often against great odds, and always with the prospect of a prison before him. that his nerves were utterly unstrung, that he was not his real self in those last days, is but too evident. armed, as he claimed, with the entire culture of his century, a maker of history if ever there was one, he became the victim of a love drama which i suppose that mr. matthew arnold would describe as of the surgeon's apprentice order: but which, apart from his political creed, will always endear him to men and women who have "lived and loved." and what shall we say of helen von donniges? her own story is surely one of the most romantic ever written. in _my relation to ferdinand lassalle_, she tells how yanko broke to her the news that he was going to fight lassalle, and how much she grieved. "lassalle will inevitably kill yanko," she thought; and she pitied him, but her pity was not without calculation. "when yanko is dead and they bring his body here, there will be a stir in the house," she said, "and i can then fly to lassalle." but the hours flew by, and finally yanko came to tell her that he had wounded his opponent. for the moment, and indeed until after lassalle's death, she hated her successful lover; but a little later his undoubted goodness, his tenderness and patience, won her heart. they were married, but he died within a year, of consumption. being disowned by her relations, helen then settled in berlin, and studied for the stage. she herself relates how at breslau on one occasion, when acting a boy's part in one of moser's comedies, some of lassalle's oldest friends being present remarked upon her likeness to lassalle in his youth, a resemblance on which she and lassalle had more than once prided themselves. at a later date frau von racowitza married a russian socialist, s. e. shevitch, then resident in america. m. shevitch returned to russia a few years after this and lived with his wife at riga. those who have seen madame shevitch describe her as one of the most fascinating women they have ever met. she and her husband were very happy in their married life. madame shevitch is now living in munich. our great novelist and poet george meredith has immortalized her in his _tragic comedians_. viii. lord acton's list of the hundred best books every one has heard of lord avebury's (sir john lubbock's) hundred best books, not every one of lord acton's. it is the privilege of the _pall mall magazine_ { } to publish this latter list, the final impression as to reading of one of the most scholarly men that england has known in our time. the list in question is, as it were, an omitted chapter of a book that was one of the successes of its year--_the letters of lord acton to miss mary gladstone_--published by mr. george allen. that series of letters made very pleasant reading. they showed lord acton not as a dryasdust, but as a very human personage indeed, with sympathies invariably in the right place. nor can his literary interests be said to have been restricted, for he read history and biography with avidity, and probably knew more of theology than any other layman of modern times. in imaginative literature, however, his critical instinct was perhaps less keen. he called heine "a bad second to schiller in poetry," which is absurd; and he thought george eliot the greatest of modern novelists. in arriving at the latter judgment he had the excuse of personal friendship and admiration for a woman whose splendid intellectual gifts were undeniable. in one letter we find lord acton discussing with miss gladstone the eternal question of the hundred best books. sir john lubbock had complained to her of the lack of a guide or supreme authority on the choice of books. lord acton had replied that, "although he had something to learn on the graver side of human knowledge," sir john would execute his own scheme better than almost anybody. we all know that sir john lubbock attempted this at a lecture delivered at the great ormond street working men's college; that that lecture has been reprinted again and again in a book entitled _the pleasures of life_, and that the publishers have sold more than two hundred thousand copies--a kind of success that might almost make some of our popular novelists turn green with envy. later on in the correspondence lord acton quoted one of the popes, who said that "fifty books would include every good idea in the world." "but," continued lord acton, "literature has doubled since then, and it would be hard to do without a hundred." lord acton was possessed of the happy thought that he would like some of his friends and acquaintances each to name his ideal hundred best books--as for example bishop lightfoot, dean church, dean stanley, canon liddon, professor max muller, mr. j. r. lowell, professor e. a. freeman, mr. w. e. h. lecky, mr. john morley, sir henry maine, the duke of argyll, lord tennyson, cardinal newman, mr. gladstone, matthew arnold, professor goldwin smith, mr. r. h. hutton, mr. mark pattison, and mr. j. a. symonds. strange to say, he thought there would be a surprising agreement between these writers as to which were the hundred best books. i am all but certain, however, that there would not have been more than twenty books in common between rival schools of thought--the secular and the ecclesiastical--between, let us say, mr. john morley and cardinal newman. but it is probable that not one of these eminent men would have furnished a list with any similarity whatever to the remainder. each would have written down his own hundred favourites, and herein may be admitted is an evidence of the futility of all such attempts. the best books are the books that have helped us most to see life in all its complex bearings, and each individual needs a particular kind of mental food quite unlike the diet that best stimulates his neighbour. writing more than a year later, lord acton said that he had just drawn out a list of recommended authors for his son, as being the company he would like him to keep; but this list is not available--it is not the one before me. that was compiled yet another twelve months afterwards, when we find lord acton sending to miss mary gladstone (mrs. drew) his own ideal "hundred best books." this list is now printed for the first time. evidently miss gladstone remonstrated with her friend over the character of the list; but lord acton defended it as being in his judgment really the hundred _best books_, apart from works on physical science--that it treated of principles that every thoughtful man ought to understand, and was calculated, in fact, to give one a clear view of the various forces that make history. "we are not considering," he adds, "what will suit an untutored savage or an illiterate peasant woman, who would never come to an end of the _imitation_." however, here is lord acton's list, which mrs. drew has been kind enough to place in the hands of the editor of the _pall mall magazine_. i give also lord acton's comment with which it opens, and i add in footnotes one or two facts about each of the authors: * * * * * "in answer to the question: which are the hundred best books in the world? "supposing any english youth, whose education is finished, who knows common things, and is not training for a profession. "to perfect his mind and open windows in every direction, to raise him to the level of his age so that he may know the ( or ) forces that have made our world what it is and still reign over it, to guard him against surprises and against the constant sources of error within, to supply him both with the strongest stimulants and the surest guides, to give force and fullness and clearness and sincerity and independence and elevation and generosity and serenity to his mind, that he may know the method and law of the process by which error is conquered and truth is won, discerning knowledge from probability and prejudice from belief, that he may learn to master what he rejects as fully as what he adopts, that he may understand the origin as well as the strength and vitality of systems and the better motive of men who are wrong, to steel him against the charm of literary beauty and talent; so that each book, thoroughly taken in, shall be the beginning of a new life, and shall make a new man of him--this list is submitted":-- . plato--_laws_--steinhart's _introduction_. { a} . aristotle--_politics_--susemihl's _commentary_. { b} . epictetus--_encheiridion_--_commentary_ of simplicius. { c} . st. augustine--_letters_. { d} . st. vincent's _commonitorium_. { a} . hugo of s. victor--_de sacramentis_. { b} . st. bonaventura--_breviloquium_. { c} . st. thomas aquinas--_summa contra gentiles_. { d} . dante--_divina commedia_. { a} . raymund of sabunde--_theologia naturalis_. { b} . nicholas of cusa--_concordantia catholica_. { c} . edward reuss--_the bible_. { d} . pascal's pensees--_havet's edition_. { a} . malebranche, _de la recherche de la verite_. { b} . baader--_speculative dogmatik_. { c} . molitor--_philosophie der geschichte_. { d} . astie--_esprit de vinet_. { e} . punjer--_geschichte der religions-philosophie_. { a} . rothe--_theologische ethik_. { b} . martensen--_die christliche ethik_. { c} . oettingen--_moralstatistik_. { d} . hartmann--_phanomenologie des sittlichen bewusstseins_. { e} . leibniz--_letters_ edited by klopp. { a} . brandis--_geschichte der philosophie_. { b} . fischer--_franz bacon_. { c} . zeller--_neuere deutsche philosophie_. { d} . bartholomess--_doctrines religieuses de la philosophie moderns_. { a} . guyon--_morale anglaise_. { b} . ritschl--_entstehung der altkatholischen kirche_. { c} . loening--_geschichte des kirchenrechts_. { d} . baur--_vorlesungen uber dogmengeschichte_. { a} . fenelon--_correspondence_. { b} . newman's _theory of development_. { c} . mozley's _university sermons_. { d} . schneckenburger--_vergleichende darstellung_. { a} . hundeshagen--_kirckenvorfassungsgeschichte_. { b} . schweizer--_protestantische centraldogmen_. { c} . gass--_geschichte der lutherischen dogmatik_. { d} . cart--_histoire du mouvement religieux dans le canton de vaud_. { e} . blondel--_de la primaute_. { a} . le blanc de beaulieu--_theses_. { b} . thiersch.--_vorlesungen uber katholizismus_. { c} . mohler--_neue untersuchungen_. { d} . scherer--_melanges de critique religieuse_. { a} . hooker--_ecclesiastical polity_. { b} . weingarten--_revolutionskirchen englands_. { c} . kliefoth--_acht bucher von der kirche_. { d} . laurent--_etudes de l'histoire de l'humanite_. { e} . ferrari--_revolutions de l'ltalie_. { a} . lange--_geschichte des materialismus_. { b} . guicciardini--_ricordi politici_. { c} . duperron--_ambassades_. { d} . richelieu--_testament politique_. { a} . harrington's writings. { b} . mignet--_negotiations de la succession d'espagne_. { c} . rousseau--_considerations sur la pologne_. { a} . foncin--_ministere de turgot_. { b} . burke's _correspondence_. { c} . las cases--_memorial de ste. helene_. { d} . holtzendorff--_systematische rechtsenzyklopadie_. { a} . jhering--_geist des romischen rechts_. { b} . geib--_strafrecht_. { c} . maine--_ancient law_. { a} . gierke--_genossenschaftsrecht_. { b} . stahl--_philosophie des rechts_. { c} . gentz--_briefwechsel mit adam muller_. { a} . vollgraff--_polignosie_. { b} . frantz--_kritik aller parteien_. { c} . de maistre--_considerations sur la france_. { d} . donoso cortes--_ecrits politiques_. { a} . perin--_de la richesse dans les societes chretiennes_. { b} . le play--_la reforme sociale_. { c} . riehl--_die burgerliche sociale_. { d} . sismondi--_etudes sur les constitutions des peuples libres_. { a} . rossi--_cours du droit constitutionnel_. { b} . barante--_vie de royer collard_. { c} . duvergier de hauranne--_histoire du gouvernement parlementaire_. { a} . madison--_debates of the congress of confederation_. { b} . hamilton--_the federalist_. { c} . calhoun--_essay on government_. { d} . dumont--_sophismes anarchiques_. { a} . quinet--_la revolution francaise_. { b} . stein--_sozialismus in frankreich_. { c} . lassalle--_system der erworbenen rechte_. { a} . thonissen--_le socialisme depuis l'antiquite_. { b} . considerant--_destines sociale_. { c} . roscher--_nationalokonomik_. { d} . mill--_system of logic_. { e} . coleridge--_aids to reflection_. { a} . radowitz--_fragmente_. { b} . gioberti--_pensieri_. { c} . humboldt--_kosmos_. { a} . de candolle--_histoire des sciences et des savants_. { b} . darwin--_origin of species_. { c} . littre--_fragments de philosophie_. { d} . cournot--_enchainements des idees fondamentales_. { e} . _monatschriften der wissenschaftlichen vereine_. { } this list, written in in miss gladstone's (mrs. drew's) diary, must always have an interest in the history of the human mind. but my readers will, i imagine, for the most part, agree with me that there are others besides untutored savages and illiterate peasant women to whom such a list is entirely impracticable. it indicates the enormous preference which on the whole lord acton gave to the literature of knowledge over the literature of power, to use de quincey's famous distinction. with the exception of dante's _divine comedy_ there is practically not a single book that has any title whatever to a place in the literature of power, a literature which many of us think the only thing in the world of books worth consideration. great philosophy is here, and high thought. who would for a moment wish to disparage st. bonaventure, the seraphic doctor, or aquinas the angelic? plato and pascal, malebranche and fenelon, bossuet and machiavelli are all among the world's immortals. yet now and again we are bewildered by finding the least important book of a well-known author--as for example rousseau's _poland_ instead of the _confessions_ and coleridge's _aids to reflection_ instead of the _poems_ or the _biographia literaria_. think of an historian whose ideal of historical work was so high that he despised all who worked only from printed documents, selecting the _memorial of st. helena_ of las casas in preference not only to a hundred- and-one similar compilations concerning napoleon's exile, but in preference to thucydides, herodotus and gibbon. sometimes lord acton names a theologian who is absolutely out-of-date, at others a philosopher who is in the same case. but on the whole it is a fascinating list as an index to what a well-trained mind thought the noblest mental equipment for life's work. at the best, it is true, it would represent but one half of life. but then lord acton recognized this when he asked that men should be "steeled against the charm of literary beauty and talent," and he was assuming in any case that all the books in aesthetic literature, the best poetry and the best history had already been read, as he undoubtedly had read them. "the charm of literary beauty and talent!" there is the whole question. nothing really matters for the average man, so far as books are concerned, but this charm, and i am criticizing lord acton's list for the average man. the student who has got beyond it need not worry himself about classified lists. he may read his plato, and aristotle, his pascal and newman, his christian apologists and german theologians, as he wills; or he may read in some other quite different direction. guidance is impossible to a mind at such a stage of cultivation as lord acton had in view. only minds at a more primitive stage of culture than this most learned and most accomplished man seemed able to conceive of, could be bettered by advice as to reading. given, indeed, contact with some superior mind, which out of its rich equipment of culture should advise as to the books that might be most profitably read, i could imagine advice being helpful. it would be of no value, it is true, to an untutored savage or illiterate peasant, but to a youth fresh from school-books and much modern fiction, to a young girl about to enter upon life in its more serious aspects, it would be immensely serviceable. it was of such as these that mr. ruskin thought when he wrote of "king's treasures" in _sesame and lilies_, and the same idea was doubtless in sir john lubbock's mind when he lectured on the "hundred best books." but lord avebury's list had its limitations, it seems to me, for any one who has an interest in good literature and guidance to the reading thereof. to give "scott" as one book and "shakspere" as another was i suggest to shirk much responsibility of selection. scott is a whole library, shakspere is yet another. one may give "keats" or "shelley" because they are more limited in quantity. even to name novels by charles kingsley and bulwer lytton in this select hundred was to demonstrate to men of this generation that lord avebury being of an earlier one had a bias in favour of the books that we are all outgrowing. to include mill's _logic_ is to ignore the time spirit acting on philosophy; to include tennyson's _idylls_ its action on poetry. mill and tennyson will always live in literature but not i think by these books. but the fact is that there is no possibility of naming the hundred best books. no one could quarrel with lord avebury if he had named these as his hundred own favourites among the books of the world. still, it might have been _his_ hundred; it could not possibly have been any one else's hundred because every man of education must make his own choice. no! the naming of the hundred best books for any large, general audience is quite impossible. all that is possible in such a connexion is to state emphatically that there are very few books that are equally suitable to every kind of intellect. temperament as well as intellectual endowment make for so much in reading. take, for example, the _imitation_ of _christ_. george eliot, although not a christian, found it soul-satisfying. thackeray, as i think a more robust intellect, found it well nigh as mischievous as did eugene sue, whose anathematizations in his novel _the wandering jew_ are remembered by all. other books that have been the outcome of piety of mind leave less room for difference of opinion. surely dante's _divine comedy_, and bunyan's _pilgrim's progress_, make an universal appeal. that universal appeal is the point at which alone guidance is possible. there are great books that can be read only by the few, but surely the very greatest appeal alike to the educated and the illiterate, to the man of rich intellectual endowment and to the man to whom all processes of reasoning are incomprehensible. _hamlet_ is a wonderful test of this quality. it "holds the boards" at the small provincial theatre, it is enacted by mr. crummles to an illiterate peasantry, and it is performed by the greatest actor to the most select city audience. it is made the subject of study by learned commentators. it is world-embracing. are there in the english language, including translations, a hundred books that stand the test as _hamlet_ stands it? no two men would make the same list of books that answer to this demand of an universal appeal, and obviously each nation must make its own list. mine is for english boys and girls just growing into manhood and womanhood, or for those who have had no educational advantages in early years. i exclude living writers, and i give the hundred in four groups. poetry. . the bible. { a} . _the odyssey_, translated by butcher and lang. { b} . the _iliad_, translated by lang, leaf and myers. { b} . aeschylus, translated by george warr. { a} . sophocles, translated by j. s. phillimore. { a} . euripides, translated by gilbert murray. { a} . virgil, translated by dryden. { b} . catullus, translated by theodore martin. { c} . horace, translated by theodore martin. { d} . dante, translated by cary. { a} . shakspere, _hamlet_. { b} . chaucer, _canterbury tales_. { c} . fitzgerald, _omar khayyam_. { a} . goethe, _faust_. { b} . shelley. { c} . byron. { d} . wordsworth. { a} . keats. { b} . burns. { c} . coleridge. { d} . cowper. { e} . crabbe. { a} . tennyson. { b} . browning. { c} . milton. { d} fiction. . _the arabian nights entertainment_. { a} . _don quixote_, by cervantes. { b} . _pilgrim's progress_, by bunyan. { c} . _robinson crusoe_, by defoe. { d} . _gulliver's travels_, by swift. { a} . _clarissa_, by richardson. { b} . _tom jones_, by fielding. { c} . _rasselas_, by johnson. { d} . _vicar of wakefield_, by goldsmith. { a} . _sentimental journey_, by sterne. { b} . _nightmare abbey_, by peacock. { c} . _kenilworth_, by walter scott. { d} . _pere goriot_, by balzac. { e} . _the three musketeers_, by dumas. { a} . _vanity fair_, by thackeray. { b} . _villette_, by charlotte bronte. { c} . _david copperfield_, by charles dickens. { d} . _barchester towers_, by anthony trollope. { e} . boccaccio's _decameron_. { f} . _wuthering heights_, by emily bronte. { a} . _the cloister and the hearth_, by charles reade. { b} . _les miserables_, by victor hugo. { c} . _cranford_, by mrs. gaskell. { d} . _consuelo_, by george sand. { e} . _charles o'malley_, by charles lever. { f} miscellaneous. history, essays, etc. . macaulay, _history of england_. { a} . carlyle, _past and present_. { b} . motley, _dutch republic_. { c} . gibbon, _decline and fall of the roman empire_. { d} . plutarch's _lives_. { a} . montaigne's _essays_. { b} . richard steele, _essays_. { c} . lamb, _essays of elia_. { d} . de quincey, _opium eater_. { e} . hazlitt, _essays_. { a} . borrow, _lavengro_. { b} . emerson, _representative men_. { c} . landor, _imaginary conversations_. { d} . arnold, _essays in criticism_. { e} . herodotus, _macaulay's translation_. { f} . howell's _familiar letters_. { a} . buckle's _history of civilization_. { b} . tacitus, church and brodribb's translation. { c} . mitford's _our village_. { d} . green's _short history of the english people_. { e} . taine, _ancient regime_. { a} . bourrienne, _napoleon_. { b} . tocqueville, _democracy in america_. { c} . walton, _compleat angler_. { d} white, _natural history of selbourne_. { a} biographical and autobiographical. . boswell's johnson. { b} . lockhart's scott. { c} . pepys's diary. { d} . walpole's letters. { a} . the memoirs of count de gramont. { b} . gray's letters. { c} . southey's nelson. { d} . moore's byron. { e} . hogg's shelley. { a} . rousseau's confessions. { b} . froude's carlyle. { c} . rogers's table talk. { a} . confessions of st. augustine. { b} . amiel's journal. { c} . meditations of marcus aurelius. { d} . lewes's life of goethe. { e} . sime's life of lessing. { a} . franklin's autobiography. { b} . greville's memoirs. { c} . forster's life of dickens. { d} . madame d'arblay's diary. { e} . newman's apologia. { a} . the paston letters. { b} . cellini's autobiography. { c} . browne's religio medici. { d} my readers for the most part have read every one of these books. i throw out this list as a tentative effort in the direction of suggesting a hundred books with which to start a library. the young student will find much to amuse, and certainly nothing here to bore him. these books will not make him a prig, as mr. james payn said that lord avebury's list would make him a prig. they will make the dull man less dull, the bright man brighter. here is good, cheerful, robust reading for boy and girl, for man and woman. there are many sins of omission, but none of commission. our young friend will add to this list fast enough, but there is nothing in it that he may not read with profit. these books, i repeat, make an universal appeal. the learned man may enjoy them, the unlearned may enjoy them also. they are, as _hamlet_ is, of universal interest. devotion to science will not impair a taste for them, nor will zest for abstract speculations. not even those who are "better skilled in grammar than in poetry" can fail to appreciate. these hundred books will in the main be the hundred best books of many of my readers who are quite capable of selecting for themselves. one last word of advice. let not the young reader buy large quantities of books at once or be beguiled into subscribing for some cheap series which will save him the trouble of selecting. he may buy many books from such cheap series afterwards, but not his first hundred, i think. these should be acquired through much saving, and purchased with great thought and deliberation. the purchase of a book should become to the young book-lover a most solemn function. _butler and tanner_, _the selwood printing works_, _frome_, _and london_ footnotes: { } richard garnett ( - ) was son of the philologist of the same name who was for a time priest-vicar of lichfield cathedral. he attended the johnson celebration on sept. , , and proposed "the immortal memory of dr. johnson." he died on the following good friday, april , and was buried in highgate cemetery april , . { } anna seward ( - ). her works were published after her death:--_the poetical works of anna seward_. _with extracts from her literary correspondence_. edited by walter scott, esq. in three volumes--_john ballantyne & co._, . _letters of anna seward written between the years_ _and_ . in six volumes. archibald constable & co., . "longwinded and florid" one biographer calls her letters, but by the aid of what scott calls 'the laudable practice of skipping' they are quite entertaining. { } sir robert thomas white-thomson, k.c.b., wrote to me in reference to this estimate of miss seward from broomford manor, exbourne, north devon, and his letter seemed of sufficient importance from a genealogical standpoint for me to ask his permission to make an extract from the letter: "i have read your address in a lichfield newspaper. apart from the wider and more important bearings of your words, those which had reference to the seward family were especially welcome to me. you will understand this when i tell you that, with the exception of the romney portrait of anna, and a few other objects left 'away' by her will, my grandfather, thomas white, of lichfield close, her cousin and residuary legatee, became possessed of all the contents of her house. some of the books and engravings were sold by auction, but the remainder were taken good care of, and passed to me on my mother's death in . as thus, 'in a way' the representative of the 'swan of lichfield,' you can easily see what such an appreciation of her as was yours means to me. of course i know her weak points, and how the pot of clay must suffer in trying to 'bump' the pot of iron in midstream, but i also know that she was no ordinary personage in her day, when the standard of feminine culture was low, and i have resented some things that have been written of her. mrs. oliphant treats her kindly in her _literary history of england_, and now i have your 'appreciation' of her, for which i beg to thank you." { } once certainly in the lines "on the death of mr. robert levet":-- well try'd through many a varying year, see levet to the grave descend, officious, innocent, sincere, of ev'ry friendless name the friend. { } _prayers and meditations_: composed by samuel johnson, ll.d., and published from his manuscripts by george straham, d.d., prebendary of rochester and vicar of islington in middlesex, . dr. birkbeck hill suggests that johnson could not have contemplated the publication of the work in its entirety, but the world is the better for the self revelation, notwithstanding cowper's remark in a letter to newton (august , ), that "the publisher of it is neither much a friend to the cause of religion nor to the author's memory; for by the specimen of it that has reached us, it seems to contain only such stuff as has a direct tendency to expose both to ridicule." { } there is an edition with a brief introduction by augustine birrell, published by elliot stock in , and another, with an introduction by "h. c.," was issued by h. r. allenson in . { } the rev. angus mackay, author of _the brontes in fact and fiction_. he was rector of holy trinity church, dean bridge, edinburgh, when he died, aged , on new year's day, . earlier in life he had been a curate at olney. { } john newton ( - ) had been the captain of a slave ship before his 'conversion.' he became curate of olney in and published the famous olney hymns with cowper in . in newton became the popular incumbent of st. mary woolnoth, london. { } see the globe _cowper_, with an introduction by the rev. william benham, the rector of st. edmund's, lombard street. canon benham has written many books, but he has done no better piece of work than this fine introduction which first appeared in . { } thomas scott ( - ). his commentaries first appeared in weekly parts between and , and were first issued in ten volumes, - . he was rector of astin sandford in buckinghamshire from until his death. his _life_ was published by his son, the rev. john scott, in . { } thomas percy ( - ) became vicar of easton maudit, northamptonshire, in . johnson visited him here in . in percy published his _reliques of ancient english poetry_. he became bishop of dromere in . { a} william hayley ( - ) was counted a great poet in his day and placed in the same rank with dryden and pope. he wrote _triumphs of temper_ , _triumphs of music_ , and many other works; but he is of interest here by virtue of his _life and letters of william cowper_, _esq._, _with remarks on epistolary writers_, published in . { b} robert southey ( - ), whose _life and works of cowper_ is in fifteen volumes, which were published by baldwin & cradock between the years and . the attractive form in which the works are presented, the many fine steel engravings, and the excellent type make this still the only way for book lovers to approach cowper. southey had to suffer the competition of the rev. t. s. grimshawe, who produced, through saunders & otley, about the same time a reprint of hayley's biography with much of cowper's correspondence that is not in southey's volumes. the whole correspondence was collected by mr. thomas wright, and published by hodder & stoughton in . { c} walter bagehot ( - ) in his _literary studies_. james russell lowell ( - ) in his _essays_. mrs. oliphant ( - ) in her _literary history of england_; and george eliot ( - ) in her _essays_ (worldliness and other worldliness). { } it has no bearing upon the subject that the horrors of the bastille at the time of its fall were greatly exaggerated. { } _theology in the english poets_, by stopford a. brooke. { } mr. leslie stephen, who became sir leslie stephen, k.c.b., in , was born in and died in . in addition to the article in the _d.n.b._, this great critic has one on "cowper and rousseau" in his _hours in a library_. { } sir john fenn ( - ), the antiquary, obtained the originals of the _paston letters_ from thomas worth, a chemist of diss. the following lines were first printed in cowper's collected poems, by mr. j. c. bailey in his admirable edition of , published by the methuens:-- two omens seem propitious to my fame, your spouse embalms my verse, and you my name; a name, which, all self-flattery far apart belongs to one who venerates in his heart the wise and good, and therefore of the few known by these titles, sir, both yours and you. they were written to please his cousin john johnson who was to oblige fenn by giving him an autograph of cowper's. { } edward stanley ( - ), the father of arthur penrhyn stanley ( - ), dean of westminster, was bishop of norwich from to . { } borrow's step-daughter, henrietta clarke, married james mcoubrey, an irish doctor. she outlived borrow for many years, dying at great yarmouth in . all her literary effects, including many interesting manuscripts, have been passed on to me by her executor, mr. hubert smith, and these will be used in my forthcoming biography of borrow. { } i ventured to ask my friend mr. birrell for a line to read to my norwich audience and he sent me the following characteristic letter dated december , :-- ". . . for my part i should leave george borrow alone, to take his own part even as isopel berners learnt to take hers in the great house at long melford. he has an appealing voice which no sooner falls on the ear of the born borrovian, than up the lucky fellow must get and follow his master to the end of the chapter. "however, if you will insist upon going out into the highways and hedges and compelling the wayfaring man--though a fool--to come in and take a seat at the _lavengro_ feast, nobody can stop you. "the great thing is to get people to read the borrow books: there is nothing else to be done. if, after having read them, some enthusiasts go on to learn _romany_ and seek to trace authorities on gypsies and gypsy lore--why, let them. they may soon know more about gypsies than borrow ever did--but they will never write about them as he did. "the essence of the matter is to enjoy borrow's books for themselves alone. as for borrow's biography, it appears to me either that he has already written it, or it is not worth writing. anyhow, place the books in the forefront, reprint things as often as you dare without _note or comment_ or even _prefatory appreciation_, and you cannot but earn the gratitude of every true borrovian who in consequence of your efforts come upon the borrow books for the first time." { } m. rene huchon, who addressed the visitors at the crabbe celebration, published his _george crabbe and his times_: _a critical and biographical study_, through mr. john murray, early in the present year, . { } this reproach has since been removed by the appearance of the _complete works of george crabbe_ in three volumes of the cambridge english classics series, published by the cambridge university press, and edited by dr. a. w. ward, the master of peterhouse. { } the original letter is in the possession of mr. a. m. broadley, of bridport. it is reprinted from the hanmer correspondence in an appendix to m. huchon's biography. { } but m. huchon makes it clear in _george crabbe and his times_ that crabbe declined at the last moment to marry miss charlotte ridout, who seems to have been really in love with him. { } this monument, a fine statue facing the house which replaces the one in which sir thomas browne lived, was unveiled in october, . { } for every student cunningham's nine volumes have been superseded since this address was delivered by the sixteen volumes of the letters of horace walpole, edited by mrs. paget toynbee for the clarendon press. { } the other side of the picture may, however, be presented. horace, says cunningham (walpole's _letters_, vol. i.), hated norfolk, the native country of his father, and delighted in kent, the native country of his mother. "he did not care for norfolk ale, norfolk turnips, norfolk dumplings and norfolk turkeys. its flat, sandy aguish scenery was not to his taste." he dearly liked what he calls most happily, "the rich, blue prospects of kent." { } goldsmith doubtless had more than one experience in his mind when he wrote of:-- sweet auburn! loveliest village of the plain. lissoy, near ballymahon, ireland, served to provide many concrete features of the picture, but that the author drew upon his experiences of houghton is believed by his principal biographer, john forster, by professor masson and others, and on no other assumption than that of an english village can the lines be explained:-- a time there was, ere england's griefs began, when every rood of ground maintained its man. { } originally written to serve as an introduction to an edition of mr. george meredith's _tragic comedians_, of which book lassalle is the hero. that edition was published by messrs. ward lock & bowden, who afterwards transferred all rights in it to messrs. archibald constable & co., by whose courtesy the paper is included here. { } lassalle's _tagebuch_, edited by paul lindau, . { } _henrich heine's sammtliche werke_, vol. xxii., pp. - . { } the most concise account of the affair is contained in the story of sophie solutzeff, entitled, _eine liebes-episode aus dem leben ferdinand lassalle's_. this booklet, which is published in german, french, and russian, professes to be an account of lassalle's love for a young russian lady, sophie solutzeff, some two years before he met helene von donniges. he is represented as being himself in a frenzy of passion; the lady, however, rejecting as a lover the man she had been prepared to worship as a teacher. there can be little doubt that the whole story is a fabrication, in which the countess von hatzfeldt had a considerable part. the countess was rightly judged by popular opinion to have played a discreditable role in the love passages between lassalle and helene; and helene's own account of the matter in her _reminiscences_ was an additional blow at the pseudo-friend who might have helped the lovers so much. what more natural than that the countess should be anxious to break the force of helene's indictment, by endorsing the popular, and indeed accurate judgment, that lassalle was very inflammable where women were concerned. this she could do by depicting him, a little earlier, in precisely similar bondage to that which he had professed to helene. that the countess wrote, or assisted to write, the compilation of letters and diaries, does not, however, destroy its value as a record of lassalle's struggle on her behalf. that account, if not written by lassalle, was written or inspired by the other great actor in the hatzfeldt drama, and may therefore be considered a fairly safe guide in recounting the story. mr. israel zangwill, since the above was written, has published an article on lassalle in his _dreamers of the ghetto_. he accepts sophie solutzeff's story as genuine, but that is merely the credulity of an accomplished romancer. { } debate in the german reichstag, april , . quoted by w. h. dawson. { } becker's _enthullungen_, . { } briefe an hans von bulow, . { } reprinted with alterations from the _pall mall magazine_ of july, , by kind permission of the proprietor and editor; and of miss mary gladstone (mrs. drew) to whom the list of books was sent in a letter. { a} plato (b.c. - ). dr. jowett has translated the _laws_. see _the dialogues_ of plato with analysis and introductions by benjamin jowett. in five volumes. vol. v. the clarendon press. { b} aristotle (b.c. - ). dr. jowett has translated the _politics_ into english. two volumes. the clarendon press. { c} epictetus (born a.d. , died in rome, but date unknown). his _encheiridion_, a collection of maxims, was made by his pupil arrian. the best translation into english is that by george long, first published in . (george bell.) { d} st. augustine (a.d. - ). see a translation of his _letters_ edited by mary allies, published in . { a} st. vincent of lerins--vincentius lirinensis. native of gaul. monk in monastery of lerinat, opposite cannes. died about . in wrote _commonitorium adversus profanus omnium heretiecrum novitates_. it contains the famous threefold text of orthodoxy--"quod ubique, quod semper, quod ad omnibus creditum est." printed at paris, and later. also in mignes, patrologia latina, vol. . hallam calls the text "the celebrated rule." it is all now remembered of st. v. by most educated men. it is shown to be of no practical value in an able criticism by sir g. c. lewis, _influence of authority in matters of opinion_, nd ed., , p. . mr gladstone reviewed this work of lewis, _nineteenth century_ march, . { b} hugo of st. victor ( - ), a celebrated mystic born at ypres in flanders. his collected works first appeared at rouen in . { c} st. bonaventura (a.d. - ). born at bagnarea, near orvieto, in tuscany, became a franciscan monk and afterwards a professor of theology at paris, where he gained the title of the "seraphic doctor." made a cardinal by pope gregory x, who sent him as his legate to the council at lyons, where he died. in he was canonized. his writings appeared at rome in - . { d} st. thomas aquinas (a.d. - ). the angelic doctor was born at the castle of rocca-secca near aquino, between rome and naples. entered the dominican order in . went to paris in and attained great distinction as a theologian. his _summa theologiae_ was followed by his _summa contra gentiles_. his works were first collected in volumes in . aquinas was canonized in . { a} dante (a.d. - ). the _divina commedia_ has been translated into english by many scholars. the best known version is the poetical renderings of h. f. cary ( - ) and w. w. longfellow ( - ) and the prose translations (the "inferno" only) of john carlyle ( - ) and a. j. butler in whose three volumes of the "purgatory," "paradise" and "inferno" the original italian may be studied side by side with the translation. { b} raymund of sabunde, a physician of toulouse of the fifteenth century. he published his _theologia naturalis_ at strassburg in . "i found the concerts of the author to be excellent, the contexture of his works well followed, and his project full of pietie" writes montaigne in telling us of his father's request that he should translate sabunde's _theologia naturalis_. florio's translation. book ii, ch. xii. { c} nicholas of cusa (a.d. - ) was born at kues on the moselle. his _de concordantia catholica_ was a treatise in favour of the councils of the church and against the authority of the pope. he was made a cardinal by pope nicholas v. { d} edward reuss ( - ), a professor of theology, who was born at strassburg. published his _history of the new testament_ in and his _history of the old testament_ in . _the bible_, _a new translation with introduction and commentaries_, appeared in volumes between and . { a} pascal, blaise ( - ). born at clermont-ferrand in auvergne. his _letters to a provincial_, written in - , made his fame by their attack on the jesuists. his _pensees_ appeared after his death, in , and they have reappeared in many forms, "edited" by many schools of thought. the edition edited by ernest havet ( - ) was published in . { b} malebranche, nicolas ( - ). born in paris. the works of descartes drew him to philosophy. the famous dictum, "malebranche saw all things in god," had reference to his treatise, _de la recherche de la verite_, first published in . { c} baader, franz ( - ). a speculative philosopher and theologian, born at munich, who endeavoured to reconcile the tenets of the church of rome with philosophy. of his many works his _vorlesungen uber spekulative dogmatik_ is here selected. it appeared between and in five parts. { d} molitor, franz joseph ( - ). a philosophical writer, born near frankfurt. his _philosophie der geschichte_, _oder uber tradition_ was published in volumes between and . { e} astie, jean frederic ( - ). a french protestant theologian, who held a chair of theology in new york from to . in became a professor in switzerland. he published his _esprit d'alexandre vinet_ at paris in . in appeared his _le vinet de la legende et celui de l'histoire_. { a} punjer, bernard ( - ). a theologian whose _geschichte der religions-philosophie_ was much the vogue with theological students at the time of its publication in . it was reissued in in an english translation by w. hastie, under the title, _history of the christian philosophy of religion from the reformation to kant_. punjer also wrote _die religionslehre kant's_, published at jena in . { b} rothe, richard ( - ). a protestant theologian. was for a time preacher to the prussian embassy in rome, and afterwards in succession professor of theology at wittenberg, at heidelberg, and at bonn. his _theologische ethik_ appeared at wittenberg in volumes between and . { c} martensen, hans lassen ( - ). a danish theologian, born at fleusburg and died at copenhagen, where he was long a professor of theology. he became bishop of zeeland. _die christliche ethik_ was one of many works by him. he also wrote _die christliche dogmatik_, _die christliche taufe_, and a _life of jakob bohme_. { d} oettingen, alexander von ( - ). a theologian and statistician principally associated with dorpat in livonia, where he studied from to . he became professor of theology at its famous university. his principal book is entitled, _die moralstatistik in ihrer bedeutung fur eine sozialethik_. { e} hartmann, karl robert eduard von ( - ). born in berlin, the son of general robert von hartmann, and served for some time in the artillery of the german army. he has written many philosophical works. his _phanomenologie des sittlichlen bewusstseins_ was published in berlin in . { a} leibniz, gottfried wilhelm ( - ). born at leipzig and died at hanover. visited paris and london, and became acquainted with boyle and newton. in appointed to a librarianship at hanover. his philosophical views are mainly derived from his letters. the edition of the _letters_, edited by ouno klopp ( - ), appeared at hanover between and in volumes. { b} brandis, christian august ( - ). a philosopher and philologist, born in hildesheim, studied in gottingen and kiel. accompanied niebuhr as secretary to the embassy to rome in . in became professor of philosophy in bonn. his _handbuch der geschichte der griechischromischen philosophie_, doubtless here referred to by lord acton, was published in berlin at long intervals ( - ) in volumes. { c} fischer, kuno ( - ). born at sandewalde in silesia. deprived of his professorship of philosophy at heidelberg by the baden government in on account of charge of pantheism, but recalled to heidelberg in . his principal book is _geschichte der neuern philosophie_ ( - ). his _franz baco von verulam_ appeared in , and _francis bacon und seine schule_ made the th volume of his _geschichte_. { d} zeller, eduard ( - still living). theologian and historian of philosophy. studied at tubingen and berlin, became professor of theology at berne, afterwards held chairs successively at heidelberg and berlin. his many works include _the philosophy of ancient greece_, _platonic studies_ and _zwingli's theological system_. { a} bartholomess, christian ( - ). a french philosopher, born at geiselbronn in alsace. from professor of philosophy at strassburg. died at nuremberg. wrote a _life of giordano bruno_, and _philosophical history of the prussian academy_, _particularly under frederick the great_, as well as the _histoire critique des doctrines religieuses de la philosophie moderne_, published in volumes in . { b} madame guyon ( - ) was born at montargis in france, and her maiden name was jeanne marie bouvieres de la mothe. she married at years of age jacques guyon. left a widow, she devoted herself to a religious mysticism which raised up endless controversies during the succeeding years. she was compelled to leave geneva because her doctrines were declared to be heretical. she was imprisoned in the bastile from to . her works are contained in volumes. { c} ritschl, albrecht ( - ). professor of theology, born in berlin, died in gottingen. became professor of theology in bonn and later in gottingen. he wrote many books. his _die entstehung der altkatholischen kirche_ first appeared in . { d} loening, edgar ( - still living), was born in paris. has held professorial chairs at strassburg, dorpat, rostock, and at halle. his _geschichte des deutschen kirchenrechts_ first appeared in . { a} baur, ferdinand christian ( - ). born at schmiden, near kannstatt. held various theological chairs before that of tubingen, which he occupied from until his death. he wrote a great number of theological works, of which his _vorlesungen uber die christliche dogmengeschichte_ was published in leipzig in volumes between and . { b} fenelon, francois de salignac de la mothe ( - ). born in perigord in france, and famous alike as a divine and as a man of letters, his _telemaque_ living in literature. his controversy over madame guyon is well known. louis xiv made him preceptor to his grandson, the duke of burgundy, and later archbishop of cambrai. his _correspondence_ was published between and in volumes. { c} newman, john henry ( - ). a famous cardinal of the church of rome; born in london, educated at trinity college, oxford; first vicar of st. mary's, oxford; took part in the tractarian movement with some of the _tracts for the times_. his _apologia pro vita sua_ appeared in , his _dream of gerontius_ in . there is no _theory of development_ by newman. his _essay on the development of christian doctrine_ appeared in , and was replied to by the rev. j. b. mozley in a volume bearing the title _the theory of development_. { d} mozley, james bowling ( - ). a church of england divine; born at gainsborough, educated at oriel college, oxford; became vicar of old shoreham, canon of worcester, and, in , regius professor of divinity at oxford. his _oxford university sermons_ appeared in . { a} schneckenburger, matthias ( - ). a protestant theologian; born at thalheim and died in berne, where he was for a time professor of theology at the newly founded university. his _vergleichende darstellung des lutherischen und reformierten lehrbegriffs_ was published in stuttgart in volumes in . { b} hundeshagen, karl bernhard ( - ). a protestant theologian who held a professorship in berne, later in heidelberg and finally in bonn, where he died. his many works included one upon the conflict between the lutheran, the calvinistic, and the zwinglian churches. his _beitrage zur kirchenverfassungsgeschichte und kirchenpolitik insbesondere des protestantismus_ was published at wiesbaden in in volume. { c} schweizer, alexander ( - ). a theologian and preacher who studied in zurich and berlin. he wrote his _autobiography_ which was published in zurich the year after his death. his book, _die protestantischen centraldogmen innerhalb der reformierten kirche_, appeared in zurich in volumes in and . { d} gass, wilhelm ( - ). a protestant theologian; born at breslau and died in heidelberg, where he held a theological chair. his best-known book is his _geschichte der protestantischen dogmatik_, published in berlin between and in volumes, and to this lord acton doubtless refers. { e} cart, jacques louis ( - probably still living). a swiss pastor; born in geneva; the author of many books, of which the one named by lord acton is fully entitled, _histoire du mouvement religieux et ecclesiastique dans le canton de vaud pendant la premiere moitie du xixe siecle_. it appeared between and in volumes. { a} blondel, david ( - ). born at chalons-sur-marne in france; a learned theologian and historian who defended the protestant position against the catholics. was professor of history at amsterdam. his _de la primaute de l'eglise_ appeared in . { b} le blanc de beaulieu, louis ( - ). a french protestant theologian who enjoyed the consideration of both parties and was approached by turenne with a view to a reunion of the churches. his position was sustained before the protestant academy at sedan with certain theses published under the title of _theses sedanenzes_ in . { c} thiersch, heinrich wilhelm josias ( - ). born in munich and died in basle; held for a time a professorship of theology in marburg, then became the principal pastor of the irvingite church in germany, preaching in many cities. he wrote many books. his _vorlesungen uber katholizismus und protestantismus_ appeared first in . { d} mohler, johann adam ( - ). born in igersheim and died in munich. a catholic theologian and professor of theology at tubingen. his _neue untersuchungen der lehrgegensatze zwischen den katholiken und protestanten_ was first published in mainz in . { a} scherer, edmond ( - ). a french theologian; born in paris, died at versailles. was for a time in england, then professor of exegesis in geneva. was for many years a leader of the french protestant church. his _melanges de critique religieuse_ appeared in paris in . { b} hooker, richard ( - ). born in exeter. in was rector of drayton-beauchamp, near tring, and the following year became master of the temple. in became vicar of boscombe and sub-dean of salisbury. his _laws of ecclesiastical polity_ was published in . in he removed to bishopsbourne, near canterbury, where he died. { c} weingarten, hermann ( - ). protestant ecclesiastical historian, born in berlin, where in he became a professor, later held chairs successively at marberg and breslau. his book _die revolutionskirchen englands_ appeared in . { d} kliefoth, theodor friedrich ( - ). a lutheran theologian; born at kirchow in mecklenburg, and died at schwerin, where he was for a time instructor to the grand duke of mecklenburg-schwerin, and held various offices in connexion with that state. he wrote many theological works. his _acht bucher von der kirche_ was published at schwerin in volume in . { e} laurent, francois ( - ). born in luxemburg and died in gent, where he long held a professorship. his principal work, _etudes sur l'histoire de l'humanite_, _histoire du droit des gens_ was published in brussels in volumes between and . { a} ferrari, guiseppe ( - ) was born in milan, and died in rome. achieved fame as a philosophical historian. held a chair at turin and afterwards at milan. as member of the parliament of piedmont he was an opponent of cavour's policy of a united italy. his principal book is entitled _histoire des revolutions de l'italie_, _ou guelfes et gibelins_, published in paris in four volumes between and . { b} lange, friedrich albert ( - ). philosopher and economic writer, born at wald bei solingen, died at marburg. held a professorial chair at zurich and later at marburg. his most famous book, the _geschichte des materialismus und kritik seiner bedentung in der gegenwart_, first appeared in . it was published in england in - by trubner in three volumes. { c} guicciardini, francesco ( - ), the italian historian and statesman, was born at florence. undertook in an embassy from florence to the court of ferdinand the catholic, and learned diplomacy in spain. in he entered the service of pope leo x. his principal book is his _history of italy_. the _istoria d'italia_ appeared in florence in ten volumes between and . his _recordi politici_ consists of some aphorisms on political and social topics and has been described by an italian critic as "italian corruption codified and elevated to a rule of life." { d} duperron, jacques davy ( - ), a cardinal of the church, born at saint lo. he was a court preacher under henry iii of france and denounced elizabeth of england in a funeral sermon on mary stuart. it is told of him that he once demonstrated before the king the existence of god, and being complimented upon his irrefutable arguments, replied that he was prepared to bring equally good arguments to prove that god did not exist. he became bishop of evreux in . { a} richelieu, cardinal--(armand-jean du plessis)--( - ). the famous minister of louis xiii; born in paris, of a noble family of poitou. was made bishop of lucon by henry iv at the age of twenty-two. became almoner to marie de medici, the regent of france. was elected a cardinal in . he wrote many books, including theological works, tragedies, and his own memoirs. the authenticity of his _testament politique_ was disputed by voltaire. { b} harrington, james ( - ) was born at upton, northamptonshire; was educated at trinity college, cambridge. he travelled on the continent, but was back in england at the time of the civil war, in which, however, he took no part. he published his _oceana_ in . he is buried in st. margaret's church, westminster, next to the tomb of sir walter raleigh. his _writings_ in an edition issued in by millar contained twenty separate treatises in addition to _oceana_, but concerned with that book. { c} mignet, francois auguste marie ( - ). the historian; was born at aix and died in paris. published his _history of the french revolution_ in . his _negociations relatives a la succession d'espagne_ appeared in volumes between and . he also wrote a _life of franklin_, a _history of mary stuart_, and many other works. { a} rousseau, jean jacques ( - ), the famous writer, was born in geneva and died at ermenonville. much of his life story has been told in his incomparable _confessions_. in he published _nouvelle heloise_; in , _l'emile ou de l'education_. his _considerations sur la pologne_ was written by rousseau in in response to an application to apply his own theories to a scheme for the renovation of the government of poland, in which land anarchy was then at its height. mr. john morley (_rousseau_, vol. ii) dismisses the pamphlet with a contemptuous line. { b} foncin, pierre ( - still living). a french professor of history; born at limoges, and has long held important official positions in connexion with education. he has written many books, including an _atlas historique_. his _essai sur le ministere turgot_ appeared in , and obtained a prize from the french academy. { c} burke, edmund ( - ), the famous statesman, was born in dublin and died at beaconsfield, bucks, where he was buried. his _vindication of natural society_ appeared in . burke entered parliament for wendover in , sat for bristol, - , and malton, - . his _collected works_ first appeared in - in volumes, the first three of which were issued in his lifetime; his _collected works and correspondence_ was published in volumes in , but the _correspondence_ had appeared separately in volumes in . { d} las cases, emmanuel augustine dieudonne marir joseph ( - ). educated at the military school in paris but entered the french navy; emigrated at the revolution; fought at quiberon; taught french in london; published in his _atlas historique et geographique_ under the pseudonym of "le sage." on his return to france he came under the notice of napoleon, who made him a count of the empire and sent him upon several important missions. during the emperor's exile in elba he again went to england. he returned during the hundred days and accompanied napoleon to st. helena. here he recorded day by day the conversations of the great exile. at the end of eighteen months he was exiled by sir hudson lowe to the cape of good hope. he returned to france after the death of napoleon and became a deputy under louis philippe. his _memorial de sainte-helene_, published in - , secured a great success. { a} holtzendorff, franz von ( - ), was professor of jurisprudence first at berlin and afterwards at munich, where he died. he wrote many books concerned with crime and its punishment, with the prison systems of the world, etc. his _enzyklopadie der rechtswissenschaft in systematischer und alphabetischer bearbeitung_ was first published at leipzig in and . { b} jhering, rudolph von ( - ), was for a time professor at basle, rostock, kiel and vienna. his _geist des romischen rechts auf den verschiedenen stufen seiner entwickelung_ appeared in leipzig between and , and is counted a classic in jurisprudence. { c} geib, karl gustav ( - ). an eminent criminologist. was a professor of zurich and afterwards of tubingen, where he died. wrote many books, of which the most important was his _geschichte des romischen kriminalprozesses bis zum tode justinians_ in . his _lehrbuch des deutschen strafrechts_ appeared in and , but was never completed. { a} maine, sir henry james sumner ( - ). jurist; born in kelso, scotland; educated at christ's hospital, london, and at pembroke college, cambridge; was regius professor of civil law at cambridge, - . in he became a legal member of council in india and held the office for seven years. in he became a k.c.s.i. and had a seat on the indian council. in he was elected master of trinity hall, cambridge, and in became whewell professor of international law at cambridge. he died at cannes. his principal work is his _ancient law_: _its connexion with the early history of society and its relation to modern ideas_, first published in . { b} gierke, otto friedrich ( - still living), was born in stettin; was professor of law in breslau, heidelberg and berlin successively. served in the franco-german war of . his principal work, _das deutsche genossenschaftsrecht_, appeared in volumes in berlin, the first in , the third in . { c} stahl, friedrich julius ( - ), was born in munich of jewish parents, died in bruckenau. held chairs of law and jurisprudence in berlin and other cities, and wrote many books. his _die philosophie des rechts und geschichtlicher ansicht_ appeared at heidelberg in volumes in and . { a} gentz, friedrich von ( - ). a distinguished publicist and statesman; born in breslau, died at weinhaus, near vienna; studied jurisprudence in konigsberg. one of his earliest literary efforts was a translation of burke's _reflections upon the french revolution_. played a very considerable part in the combination of the powers of europe against napoleon in - . he was the author of many books. his _briefewechsel mit adam muller_ was published in stuttgart in --long after his death. { b} vollgraff, karl friedrich ( - ), was for a time professor of jurisprudence at marburg, where he died. his two most important books were: ( ) _der systeme der praktischen politik im abendlande_; ( ) _erster versuch einer begrundung der allgemeinen ethnologie durch die anthropologie und der staats und rechts philosophie durch die ethnologie oder nationalitat der volker_, published in volumes in to . it is in this last volume that a section is devoted to polignosie. { c} frantz, konstantin ( - ). distinguished publicist; born at halberstadt and died at blasewitz, near dresden, where he made his home for many years. was for a time german consul in spain. his great doctrine laid down in his _die weltpolitik_, , was the union of central europe against the growing power of russia and the united states of america. his _kritik aller parteien_ was published in berlin in . { d} maistre, joseph marie comte de ( - ). a distinguished french publicist; born at chambery; studied at the university of turin. lived for some years at lausanne, where he published in his _considerations sur la revolution francaise_. { a} donoso cortes, jean francois ( - ). a famous spanish publicist; born in estremadura; played a considerable part in spanish affairs under marie-christine and queen isabella. was for a time spanish ambassador to berlin, and later to france, where he died in paris. he wrote much upon such questions as the catholic church and socialism. { b} perin, henri charles xavier ( - ), a belgium economist, born at mons; became an advocate at brussels and also professor of political economy in that city. his book _de la richesse dans les societes chretiennes_ appeared in paris in volumes in . { c} le play, pierre guillaume frederic ( - ). born at honfleur. he directed the organization of the paris international exhibitions of and . he wrote many books. his _la reforme sociale en france deduite de l'observation comparee des peuples europeens_ was published in two volumes in . { d} riehl, wilhelm heinrich ( - ). a well-known author; born at biebrich-am-rhein, died in munich. he was associated with several german newspapers, and edited from to the _nassauische allgemeine zeitung_, from to the _augsburger allgemeine zeitung_, and afterwards became a professor of literature at munich. in he became the director of the bavarian national museum. he wrote many books, the one referred to by lord acton having been published in under the title of _die burgerliche gesellschaft_. { a} sismondi, jean charles leonard sismonde de ( - ), the distinguished historian of the italian republics, was born at geneva of an italian family originally from pisa. he resided for a time in england. his famous book the _histoire des republiques italiennes de moyen-age_ appeared between and in volumes. his _etudes sur les constitutions des peuples libres_, was one of many other books. { b} rossi, pellegrino luigi odoardo ( - ). an italian publicist; born at carrara. keenly sympathized with the french revolution and served under murat in the hundred days, after which he fled to geneva. in later years he became a nationalized frenchman, occupied a chair of constitutional law, and finally became a peer. as comte rossi he went on a special embassy to rome. he was assassinated in that city during the troubles of . his _traite du droit constitutionnel_ appeared in volumes. { c} barante, aimable guillaume prosper brugiere, baron de ( - ), historian and politician, was born at riom. he was made a counciller of state by louis xviii in , and a peer of france in . he was elected a member of the french academy in . under louis philippe he became ambassador first at turin and afterwards at st. petersburg. after the revolution of he devoted himself entirely to literature. he wrote many historical and literary studies, and translated the works of schiller into french. his _vie politique de royer-collard_ has several times been reprinted. { a} duvergier de hauranne, prosper ( - ), was a distinguished french publicist, born at rouen. he was parliamentary deputy for sancerre in and took part in most of the political struggles of the following twenty years. he was exiled from france at the time of the _coup d'etat_, but returned during the reign of napoleon iii. henceforth he devoted himself exclusively to historical studies. his _histoire du gouvernement parlementaire en france_, published in , secured his election to the french academy. { b} madison, james ( - ). the fourth president of the united states; born at port conway, virginia. acted with jay and hamilton in the convention which framed the constitution and wrote with them _the federalist_. he had two terms of office--between and --as president. he died at montpelier, virginia. his _debates of the congress of confederation_ was published in elliot's "debates on the state conventions," vols., philadelphia, . { c} hamilton, alexander ( - ). a great american statesman, who served in washington's army, and after the war became eminent as a lawyer in new york. he wrote fifty-one out of the eighty-five essays of _the federalist_. he was appointed secretary of the treasury to the united states in . he was mortally wounded in a duel by aaron burr in . his influence upon the american constitution gives him a great place in the annals of the republic. { d} calhoun, john campbell ( - ). an american statesman; born in abbeville county, south carolina and studied at yale. as a member of congress he supported the war with great britain in - . he was twice vice-president of the united states. he died at washington. a _disquisition on government_ and a _discourse on the constitution and government of the united states_ were written in the last months of his life. his _collected works_ appeared in - . { a} dumont, pierre etienne louis ( - ). a great publicist; born in geneva, and principally known in england by his association with bentham, to whom he acted as an editor and interpreter. lived much in paris, st. petersburg, and, above all, in london, where he knew fox, sheridan, and other famous men, and taught the children of lord shelburne. dumont's _sophismes anarchiques_ appears in bentham's _collected works_ as _anarchical fallacies_. { b} quinet, edgar ( - ). french historian and philosopher; born at borg and died in paris. his epic poem of _ahasuerus_ was placed upon the index. of his many books his _la revolution francaise_ is the best known. it was written in switzerland, where he was an exile during the reign of napoleon iii. he returned to france in . { c} stein, lorenz von ( - ). writer on economics, studied in kiel and in jena. in he became professor of international law in vienna. he wrote books on statecraft and international law. his work entitled _der sozialismus und kommunismus des heutigen frankreich_ appeared in leipzig in . { a} lassalle, ferdinand ( - ), the famous social democrat, was of jewish birth; born at breslau. he took part in the revolution of and received six months' imprisonment. he was wounded in a duel at geneva over a love affair and died two days later. his _system der erworbenen rechte_ appeared in . { b} thonissen, jean joseph ( - ). a distinguished jurist; born in belgium. he studied at liege and in paris; became a professor of the catholic university of louvain; afterwards became a minister of state. of his many works his _socialisme depuis l'antiquite jusqu'a la constitution francaise de _ is best known. { c} considerant, victor ( - ). born at salins, and, after the revolution of , entered the chamber of deputies. he crossed to america to found a colony in texas, but ruined himself by the experiment. he returned to france in . he was the author of many socialistic treatises. { d} roscher, wilhelm ( - ), economist, was born in hanover. held a chair first in gottingen and afterwards in leipzig, where he died. his _geschichte der nationalokonomik in deutschland_ appeared in munich in . { e} mill, john stuart ( - ), the famous publicist and author, was born in london, and educated by his father, james mill ( - ). he served in the india office, - ; he was m.p. for westminster, - . his works include the _principles of political economy_, ; the _essay on liberty_, , and the _system of logic_, which first appeared in . { a} coleridge, samuel taylor ( - ), poet and critic, was born at ottery st. mary, devonshire; educated at christ's hospital, london, and at jesus college, cambridge. in the volume of _lyrical ballads_ by wordsworth of coleridge contributed the _ancient mariner_, and he was to make his greatest reputation by this and other poems. his best prose work was his _biographia literaria_ ( ). his _aids to reflection_ was first published in . { b} radowitz, joseph maria von ( - ). a prussian general and statesman; born in blankenberg and died in berlin. fought in the napoleonic wars and was wounded at the battle of leipzig. afterwards served as ambassador to various german courts. he wrote several treatises bearing upon current affairs, and his _fragments_ form vols. iv and v of his _collected works_ in volumes, which were issued in berlin in - . { c} gioberti, vincent ( - ). an italian statesman and philosopher; born in turin, where he afterwards became professor of theology. was for a time court chaplain, but his liberal views led to exile, and he retired first to paris, then to brussels. afterwards became famous as a neo-catholic with his attempt to combine faith with science and art, and urged the independence and the unity of italy. his _jesuite moderne_, published in , created a sensation. after some years of home politics he was appointed by king victor emmanuel as ambassador to paris. it is noteworthy in the light of lord acton's recommendation of his _pensieri_ that his works have been placed on the index. { a} humboldt, friedrich heinrich alexander baron von ( - ), the great naturalist, was born and died in berlin, and studied at frankfort- on-the-oder, berlin and gottingen; he spent five years ( - ) in exploring south america, and in travelled through central asia. his _kosmos_ appeared between and in volumes. { b} de candolle, alphonse de ( - ). the son of the celebrated botanist, augustin pyramus de candolle, and was himself a professor of that science at geneva. his _histoire des sciences et des savants depuis deux siecles_ appeared in . { c} darwin, charles robert ( - ), the great naturalist and discoverer of natural selection, was born at shrewsbury, where he was educated at the grammar school, at edinburgh university, and at christ's college, cambridge. his most famous book, _the origin of species by means of natural selection_, was first published in . { d} littre, maximilien paul emile ( - ), the famous lexicographer whose _dictionnaire de la langue francaise_ gave him a world-wide reputation. he was born in paris. he associated himself with auguste comte and the _positive philosophy_, and contributed many volumes in support of comte's standpoint. { e} cournot, antoine augustin ( - ). born at gray in savoy; wrote many mathematical treatises. his _traite de l'enchainement des idees fondamentales dans les sciences et dans l'histoire_ was published in volumes. { } this was a most comprehensive addition, and fully makes up for the abrupt termination of the list of the hundred best books with two omissions. the omission of the book numbered will also have been remarked. there are probably a hundred "monatschriften der wissenschaftlichen vereine" or magazines of scientific societies issued in germany. sperling's _zeitschriften-adressbuch_ gives more than two columns of these. { a} the bible can be best read in paragraph form from the eversley edition, published by the macmillans, or from the temple bible, issued by j. m. dent--the latter an edition for the pocket. the translation of is literature and has made literature. the revised translation of our own day has neither characteristic. something can be said for the douay bible in this connexion. it was published in douay in the same year as the protestant version appeared-- . certain words from it, such as "threnes" for "lamentations" as the threnes of jeremiah, have a poetical quality that deserved survival. { b} the iliad may be read in a hundred verse translations of which those by pope and cowper are the best known. both these may be found in bohn's libraries (g. bell & sons); but the prose translation for which mr. lang and his friends are responsible (macmillan) is for our generation far and away the best introduction to homer for the non-grecian. { a} under the title of "the athenian drama," george allen has published three fine volumes of the works of the greek dramatists. { b} dryden's translation of virgil has been followed by many others both in prose and verse. there was one good prose version by c. davidson recently issued in laurie's classical library. an interesting translation of virgil's _georgics_ into english verse was recently made by lord burghclere and published by john murray. the young student, however, will do well to approach virgil through dryden. he will find the book in the chandos classics, or superbly printed in professor saintsbury's edition of _dryden's works_, vol. xiv. { c} there have been many translations of catullus. one, by sir richard burton, was issued by leonard smithers in . in bohn's library there is a prose translation by walter k. kelly. professor robinson ellis made a verse translation that has been widely praised. grant allen translated the attis in . on the whole, the english verse translation by sir theodore martin made in (blackwood & son) is far and away the best suited for a first acquaintance with this the 'tenderest of roman poets.' { d} horace has been made the subject of many translations. perhaps there are fifty now available. john conington's edition of his complete works, two volumes (bell), is well known. the best introduction to horace for the young student is in sir theodore martin's translation, two volumes (blackwood), and a volume by the same author entitled _horace_ in "ancient classics for english readers" (blackwood) is a charming little book. { a} dante's _divine comedy_ as translated by henry francis cary ( - ) has been described by mr. ruskin as better reading than milton's "paradise lost." james russell lowell, with true patriotism, declared that his countrymen longfellow's translation (routledge) was the best. something may be said for the prose translation by dr. john carlyle of the _inferno_ (bell) and for mr. a. j. butler's prose translation of the whole of the _divine comedy_ in three volumes (macmillan). other translations which have had a great vogue are by wright and dean plumptre. the best books on dante are those by dr. edward moore (clarendon press). cary's translation can be obtained in one volume in bohn's library (bell) or in the chandos classics (warne). { b} i contend that while most of the poets are self-contained in a single volume, shakspere's plays are best enjoyed as separate entities. certainly each of them has a library attached to it, and it is quite profitable to read hamlet in mr. horace howard furness's edition (lippincott) with a multitude of criticisms of the play bound up with the text of hamlet. but hamlet should be read first in the temple shakspere (dent) or in the arden shakspere (methuen). to this last there is an admirable introduction by professor dowden. { c} chaucer's _canterbury tales_ should be read in mr. alfred w. pollard's edition, which forms two volumes of the "eversley library" (macmillan). the "tales" may be obtained in cheaper form in the _chaucer_ of the aldine poets (bell), of which i have grateful memories, having first read "chaucer" in these little volumes. the enthusiast will obtain the complete works of chaucer edited for the clarendon press by professor w. w. skeat. { a} fitzgerald's _omar khayyam_ can be obtained in its four versions, each of which has its merits, only from the macmillans, who publish it in many forms. the edition in the golden treasury series may be particularly commended. the present writer has written an introduction to a sixpenny edition of the first version. it is published by william heinemann. { b} goethe's _faust_ has been translated in many forms. certainly anster's version (sampson low) is the most vivacious. anna swanwick, sir theodore martin and bayard taylor's translations have about equal merit. { c} shelley's _poetical works_ should be read in the one volume issued in green cloth by the macmillans, with an introduction by edward dowden, or in the oxford poets (henry froude), with an introduction by h. buxton forman, but perhaps the best edition is that of the clarendon press with an introduction by thomas hutchinson. mr. forman's library edition of _shelley's complete works_ is the desire of all collectors. { d} _byron's poetical works_, edited by ernest coleridge, form seven volumes of john murray's edition of byron's _works_ in thirteen volumes. there is not a good one-volume byron. i particularly commend the three- volume edition (george newnes). { a} wordsworth may be read in his entirety in the sixteen volumes of _prose and poetry_ edited by william knight in the eversley library (macmillan). the same publisher issues an admirable _wordsworth_ in one volume, edited, with an introduction by john morley. but the first approach to wordsworth's verse should be made through matthew arnold's _select poems_ in the golden treasury series (macmillan). { b} _keats's works_ are issued in one volume in the oxford poets (froude), and in five shilling volumes by gowans and gray of glasgow. mr. buxton forman's annotations to this cheap edition exceed in value those attached to his more expensive "library edition," which, however, as with the _shelley_, in eight volumes, is out of print. { c} the four volumes of burns, with an introduction by w. e. henley, are pleasant to read. they are published by jack, of edinburgh. the best single-volume _burns_ is that in the globe library (macmillan), with an introduction by alexander smith. { d} there is no rival to the one-volume edition of _coleridge's poems_, with an introduction by j. dykes campbell, published by macmillan. mr. dykes campbell's biography of coleridge should also be read. the prose works of coleridge are obtainable in bohn's library. the fortunate book lover has many in pickering editions. { e} _cowper's complete works_ are acquired for a modest sum of the second-hand bookseller in southey's sixteen-volume edition. the two best one-volume issues of the _poems_ are the globe library edition with an introduction by canon benham (macmillan), and _cowper's complete poems_ with an introduction by j. c. bailey (methuen). the best of the letters are contained in a volume in the golden treasury series, with an introduction by mrs. oliphant. _the complete letters of cowper_, edited by thomas wright, have been published by hodder & stoughton in four volumes. { a} _crabbe's works_, in eight volumes, with biography by his son, may be obtained very cheaply from the second-hand book seller. with all the merits of both _works_ and _life_ they have not been reprinted satisfactorily. the only good modern edition of _crabbe's poems_ is in three volumes published by the cambridge university press, edited by a. w. ward. { b} the best one-volume _tennyson_ is issued by the macmillans, who still hold certain copyrights. the library edition of _tennyson_, with the biography included in the twelve volumes, is a desirable acquisition. { c} not all the sixteen volumes of the library edition of _browning_ pay for perusal. the most convenient form is that of the two-volume edition (smith, elder & co.), with notes by augustine birrell. { d} _milton's poetical works_ as annotated by david masson (macmillan) make the standard library edition, and the same publishers have given us the best one-volume _milton_ in the globe library, with an introduction by professor masson, milton's one effective biographer. { a} _the arabian nights' entertainments_ is first introduced to us all as a children's story-book. tennyson has placed on record his own early memories:-- "in sooth it was a goodly time, for it was in the golden prime of good haroun alraschid." but the collector of the hundred best books will do well to read the _arabian nights_ in the translation by edward william lane, edited by stanley lane poole, in volumes, for george bell & sons. { b} the most satisfactory translation of cervantes's great romance is that made by john ormesby, revised and edited by james fitzmaurice-kelly, published by gowans & gray in shilling volumes. { c} _the pilgrim's progress_ is presented in a hundred forms. the present writer first read it in a penny edition. it should be possessed by the book-lover in a volume of the cambridge english classics, in which _grace abounding_ and _the pilgrim's progress_ are given together, edited by dr. john brown, and published by the cambridge university press. { d} schoolboys, notwithstanding macaulay, usually know but few good books, but every schoolboy knows defoe's _robinson crusoe_ in one form or another. the maker of a library will prefer it as a volume of defoe's _works_ (j. m. dent), or as volume vii of defoe's _novels and miscellaneous works_ (bell & sons). there are many good shilling editions of the book by itself, but defoe should be read in many of his works and particularly in _moll flanders_. { a} as with _robinson crusoe_, _gulliver's travels_ can be obtained in many cheap forms, but it is well that it should be obtained as volume viii of _swift's prose works_, published in bohn's libraries by george bell & sons. there has not been a really good edition of swift's works since scott's monumental book. { b} _clarissa_ should be read in nine of the twenty volumes of richardson's novels, published by chapman & hall--a very dainty well-printed book. "i love these large, still books," said lord tennyson. { c} the greatest of all novels, _tom jones_, is obtainable in several library editions of fielding's _works_. a cheap well-printed form is that of the _works of henry fielding_ in volumes, published by gay & bird. here _the story of tom jones a foundling_ is in volumes. the book is in volumes in bohn's library--an excellent edition. { d} johnson's _rasselas_ has frequently been reprinted, but there is no edition for a book-lover at present in the bookshops. it is included in _classic tales_ in a volume of bohn's standard library. the wise course is to look out for one of the earlier editions with copper plates that are constantly to be found on second-hand bookstalls. but johnson's _works_ should be bought in a fine octavo edition. { a} goldsmith's _vicar of wakefield_ should be possessed in the edition which mr. hugh thomson has illustrated and mr. austin dobson has edited for the macmillans. there is a good edition of goldsmith's _works_ in bohn's library. { b} sterne's _sentimental journey_ is also a volume for the second- hand bookstall, although that and the equally fine _tristram shandy_ may be obtained in many pretty forms. i have two editions of sterne's books, but they are both fine old copies. { c} there are two very good editions of peacock's delightful romances. _nightmare abbey_ forms a volume of j. m. dent's edition in volumes, edited by dr. garnett; and the whole of peacock's remarkable stories are contained in a single volume of newnes' "thin paper classics." { d} sir walter scott's novels are available in many forms equally worthy of a good library. the best is the edition published by jack of edinburgh. the temple library of scott (j. m. dent) may be commended for those who desire pocket volumes, while mr. andrew lang's introductions give an added value to an edition published by the macmillans, scott's twenty-eight novels are indispensable to every good library, and every reader will have his own favourite. { e} balzac's novels are obtainable in a good translation by ellen marriage, edited by george saintsbury, published in new york by the macmillan company and in london by j. m. dent. { a} a translation of dumas' novels in volumes is published by dent. _the three musketeers_ is in volumes. there are many cheap one volume editions. { b} thackeray's _vanity fair_ is pleasantly read in the edition of his novels published by j. m. dent. his original publishers, smith, elder & co., issue his works in many forms. { c} the best edition of charlotte bronte's _villette_ is that in the "haworth edition," published by smith, elder & co., with an introduction by mrs. humphry ward. { d} charles dickens' novels, of which _david copperfield_ is generally pronounced to be the best, should be obtained in the "oxford india paper dickens" (chapman & hall and henry frowde). a serviceable edition is that published by the macmillans, with introductions by charles dickens's son, but that edition still fails of _our mutual friend_ and _the mystery of edwin drood_, of which the copyright is not yet exhausted. { e} anthony trollope's novels are being reissued, in england by john lane and george bell & sons, and in america in a most attractive form by dodd, mead & co. all three publishers have a good edition of _barchester towers_, trollope's best novel. { f} boccaccio's _decameron_ is in my library in many forms--in volumes of the villon society's publications, translated by john payne; in handsome volumes issued by laurence & bullen; and in the extra volumes of bohn's library. there is a pretty edition available published by gibbons in volumes. { a} emily bronte's _wuthering heights_ forms a volume of the haworth edition of the bronte novels, published by smith, elder & co. it has an introduction by mrs. humphry ward. { b} charles reade's _cloister and the hearth_ is available in many forms. the pleasantest is in volumes issued by chatto & windus, with an introduction by sir walter besant. there is a remarkable shilling edition issued by collins of glasgow. { c} victor hugo's _les miserables_ may be most pleasantly read in the volumes, translated by m. jules gray, published by j. m. dent & co. { d} mrs. gaskell's _cranford_ can be obtained in the six volume edition of that writer's works published by smith, elder & co., with introductions by dr. a. w. ward; in a volume illustrated by hugh thomson, with an introduction by mrs. ritchie, published by the macmillans, or in the world's classics (henry frowde), where there is an additional chapter entitled, "the cage at cranford." { e} the translation of george sand's _consuelo_ in my library is by frank h. potter, volumes, dodd, mead & co., new york. { f} lever's _charles o'malley_ i have as volumes of the _complete works_ published by downey. there is a pleasant edition in nelson's "pocket library." { a} macaulay's _history of england_ is available in many attractive forms from the original publishers, the longmans. there is a neat thin paper edition for the pocket in volumes issued by chatto & windus. { b} for carlyle's _past and present_ i recommend the centenary edition of carlyle's _works_, published by chapman & hall. there is an annotated edition of _sartor resartus_ by j. a. s. barrett (a. & c. black), two annotated editions of _the french-revolution_, one by dr. holland rose (g. bell & sons), and an other by c. r. l. fletcher, volumes (methuen), and an annotated edition of _the cromwell letters_, edited by s. c. lomax, volumes (methuen). no publisher has yet attempted an annotated edition of _past and present_, but sir ernest clarke's translation of _jocelyn of bragelond_ (chatto & windus) may be commended as supplemental to carlyle's most delightful book. { c} motley's _works_ are available in volumes of a library edition published by john murray. a cheaper issue of the _dutch republic_ is that in volumes of the world's classics, to which i have contributed a biographical introduction. { d} for many years the one standard edition of _gibbon_ was that published by john murray, in volumes, with notes by dean milman and others. it has been superseded by professor bury's annotated edition in volumes (methuen). { a} plutarch's _lives_, translated by a. stewart and george long, form volumes of bohn's standard library. there is a handy volume for the pocket in dent's temple classics in volumes, translated by sir thomas north. { b} montaigne's _essays_ i have in three forms; in the tudor translations (david nutt), where there is an introduction to the volumes of sir thomas north's translation by the rt. hon. george wyndham; in dent's temple classics, where john florio's translation is given in volumes. a much valued edition is that in volumes, the translation by charles cotton, published by reeves & turner in . { c} steele's essays were written for the _tatler_ and the _spectator_ side by side with those of addison. the best edition of _the spectator_ is that published in volumes, edited by george a. aitken for nimmo, and of _the tatler_ that published in volumes, edited also by mr. aitken for duckworth & co. { d} lamb's _essays of elia_ can be read in a volume of the eversley library (macmillan), edited by canon ainger. the standard edition of lamb's _works_ is that edited by mr. e. v. lucas, in volumes, for methuen. mr. lucas's biography of lamb has superseded all others. { e} thomas de quincey's _opium eater_ may be obtained as a volume of newnes's thin paper classics, in the world's classics, or in dent's everyman's library. but the _complete works_ of de quincey, in volumes, edited by david mason and published by a. & c. black, should be in every library. { a} william hazlitt never received the treatment he deserved until mr. j. m. dent issued in his _collected works_, in volumes, edited by a. r. waller and arnold glover. of cheap reprints of hazlitt i commend _the spirit of the age_, _winterslow_ and _sketches and essays_, three separate volumes of the world's classics (frowde). { b} george borrow's _lavengro_ should only be read in mr. john murray's edition, as it there contains certain additional and valuable matter gathered from the original manuscript by william i. knapp. the library edition of borrow, in volumes (murray), may be particularly commended. { c} emerson's _complete works_ are published by the routledges in volumes, in which _representative men_ may be found in vol. ii. some may prefer the eversley library _emerson_, which has an introduction by john morley. there are many cheap editions of about equal value. { d} lander's _imaginary conversations_ form six volumes of the complete _landor_, edited by charles g. crump, and published in volumes by j. m. dent. { e} matthew arnold's _essays in criticism_ is published by macmillan. it also forms vol. iii of the library edition of his _works_ in volumes. a "second series" has less significance. { f} _the works of herodotus_, published by the macmillans, translated by george c. macaulay, is the best edition for the general reader. canon rawlinson's _herodotus_, published by john murray, has had a longer life, but is now only published in an abridged form. { a} james howell's _familiar letters_, or _epistolae ho elianae_, should be read in the edition published in volumes by david nutt, with an introduction by joseph jacobs. { b} _the history of civilization_, by henry thomas buckle, is in my library in the original volumes published by parker in . it is now issued in volumes in longman's silver library, and in volumes in the world's classics. { c} _the history of tacitus_ should be read in the translation by alfred john church and william jackson brodripp. it is published by the macmillans. { d} _our village_, by mary russell mitford, is a collection of essays which in their completest form may be obtained in two volumes of bohn's library (bell). the essential essays should be possessed in the edition published by the macmillans--_our village_, by mary russell mitford, with an introduction by anne thackeray ritchie, and one hundred illustrations by hugh thomson. { e} green's _short history of the english people_ is published by the macmillans in volume, or illustrated in volumes. the book was enlarged, but disimproved, under the title of _a history of the english people_, in volumes, uniform with the _conquest of england_ and the _making of england_ by the same author. { a} taine's _ancient regime_ is a good introduction to the conditions which made the french revolution. it forms the first volume of _les origines de la france contemporaine_, and may be read in a translation by john durand, published by dalby, isbister & co. in . { b} _the life of napoleon_ has been written by many pens, in our own day most competently by dr. holland rose ( vols. bell); but a good account of the emperor, indispensable for some particulars and an undoubted classic, is that by de bourrienne, napoleon's private secretary, published in an english translation, in volumes, by bentley in . { c} _democracy in america_, by alexis de tocqueville, may be had in a translation by henry reeve, published in volumes by the longmans. read also _a history of the united states_ by c. benjamin andrews, volumes (smith, elder), and above all the _american commonwealth_, by james bryce, volumes (macmillan). { d} _the compleat angler_ of isaac walton may be purchased in many forms. i have a fine library edition edited by that prince of living anglers, mr. r. b. marston, called the lea and dove edition, this being the th edition of the book (sampson low, ). i have also an edition edited by george a. b. dewar, with an introduction by sir edward grey and etchings by william strang and d. y. cameron, volumes (freemantle), and a volume edition published by ingram & cooke in the illustrated library. { a} there are many editions of gilbert white's _natural history of selbourne_ to be commended. three that are in my library are ( ) edited with an introduction and notes by l. c. miall and w. warde fowler (methuen); ( ) edited with notes by grant allen, illustrated by edmund h. new (john lane); ( ) rearranged and classified under subjects by charles mosley (elliot stock). { b} of _boswell's life of johnson_ there are innumerable editions. the special enthusiast will not be happy until he possesses dr. birkbeck hill's edition in volumes (clarendon press). the most satisfactory volume edition is that published on thin paper by henry frowde. i have in my library also a copy of the first edition of _boswell_ in volumes. it was published by henry baldwin in . { c} the best edition of lockhart's _life of scott_ is that published in volumes by jack of edinburgh. readers should beware of abridgments, although one of these was made by lockhart himself. the whole eighty-five chapters are worth reading, even in the volume edition published by a. & c. black. { d} _pepys's diary_ can be obtained in bohn's library or in newnes' thin paper classics, but pepys should only be read under mr. h. b. wheatley's guidance. a cheap edition of his book, in volumes, has recently been published by george bell & sons. i have no. of the large paper edition of this book, no. having gone to pepys's own college of brazenose, where the pepys cypher is preserved. { a} until recently one knew walpole's _letters_ only through peter cunningham's edition, in volumes (bentley), and this has still exclusive matter for the enthusiast, cunningham's introduction to wit; but the clarendon press has now published walpole's _letters_, edited by mrs. paget toynbee, in volumes, or in . here are to be found more letters than in any previous edition. { b} _the memoirs of count de gramont_, by anthony, count hamilton, can be obtained in splendid type, unannotated, in an edition published by arthur l. humphreys. a well-illustrated and well-edited edition is that published by bickers of london and scribner of new york, edited by allan fea. { c} gray's _letters_, with poems and life, form volumes in macmillan's eversley library, edited by edmund gosse. { d} you can obtain southey's _nelson_, originally written for murray's pocket library as a publisher's commission, in one well-printed volume, with introduction by david hannay, published by william heinemann. it should, however, be supplemented in the _life_ by captain mahan ( volumes, sampson low & co.), or by professor laughton's _nelson and his companion in arms_ (george allen). { e} moore's _life and letters of byron_ is published by john murray in volumes. it is best purchased second-hand in an old set. moore's book must be supplemented by the volumes of _correspondence_ edited by rowland prothero for mr. murray. { a} sir george trevelyan says in his _early history of charles james fox_ that hogg's _life of shelley_ is "perhaps the most interesting book in our language that has never been republished." the reproach has been in some slight measure removed by a cheap reprint in small type issued by the routledges in . the reader should, however, secure a copy of the first edition, volumes, . professor dowden, in his _life of shelley_, , uses the book freely. { b} "what is the best book you have ever read?" emerson is said to have asked george eliot when she was about twenty-two years of age and residing, unknown, near coventry. "rousseau's _confessions_," was the reply. "i agree with you," emerson answered. but the book should not be read in a translation. the completest translation is one in volumes published by nicholls. there is a more abridged translation by gibbons in volumes. { c} _the life of carlyle_, by james anthony froude, which created so much controversy upon its publication, is worthy of a cheap edition, which does not, however, seem to be forthcoming. the book appeared in volumes, _the first forty years_ in and _life in london_ in . it had been preceded by _reminiscences_ in . every one should read the _letters and memorials of jane welsh carlyle_, volumes, . all the volumes are published by the longmans. { a} samuel rogers' _table talk_ has been given us in two forms, first as _recollections of the table talk of samuel rogers_, edited by alexander dyce, , and second as _reminiscences of samuel rogers_, . the _recollections_ were reprinted in handsome form by h. a. rogers, of new southgate, in , and the material was combined in a single volume in by g. h. powell (r. brimley johnson). i have the four books, and delight in the many good stories they contain. { b} _the confessions of st. augustine_ may be commended in many small and handy editions. one, with an introduction by alice meynell, was published in . the most beautifully printed modern edition is that issued by arthur humphreys in his classical series. { c} amiel's _journal_ is a fine piece of introspection. a translation by mrs. humphry ward is published in volumes by the macmillans. de senancour's _obermann_, translated by a. e. waite (wellby), should be read in this connexion. { d} _the meditations of marcus aurelius_, translated by george long, appears as a volume of bohn's library, and more beautifully printed in the library of arthur humphreys. there are many other good translations--one by john jackson, issued in by the clarendon press, has great merit. { e} george henry lewes's _life of goethe_ has gone through many editions and remains a fascinating book, although it may be supplemented by the translation of duntzer's _life of goethe_, volumes, macmillan, and bielschowsky's _life of goethe_, vols. i and ii (putnams). { a} _the life of lessing_, by james sime, is not a great biography, but it is an interesting and most profitable study of a noble man. lessing will be an inspiration greater almost than any other of the moderns for those who are brought in contact with his fine personality. the book is in volumes, published by the trubners. { b} you can read benjamin franklin's _autobiography_ in volume (dent), or in his collected works--_memoirs of the life and writings of benjamin franklin_, edited by his grandson, william temple franklin, volumes (colburn), . there have been at least two expensive reprints of his _works_ of late years. { c} _the greville memoirs_ were published in large octavo form in the first place. much scandal was omitted from the second edition. they are now obtainable in volumes of longmans' silver library. they form an interesting glimpse into the court life of the later guelphs. { d} it has been complained of john forster's _life of charles dickens_ that there is too much forster and not enough dickens. yet it is the only guide to the life-story of the greatest of the victorian novelists. is most pleasant to read in the volumes of the gadshill edition, published by chapman & hall. { e} _the early diary of frances burney_, afterwards madame d'arblay, edited by annie raine ellis, has just been reprinted in two volumes of bohn's library (bell). we owe also to mr. austen dobson a fine reprint of the later and more important _diaries_, which he has edited in volumes for the macmillans. { a} the _apologia pro vita sua_ of john henry newman is one of the volumes of cardinal newman's _collected works_ issued by the longmans. it is the most interesting, and is perhaps the most destined to survive, of all the books of theological controversy of the nineteenth century. { b} there is practically but one edition of the _paston letters_, that edited by james gairdner, of the public record office, and published by the firm of archibald constable. the luxurious library edition issued by chatto & windus in volumes should be acquired if possible. { c} _the autobiography of benvenuto cellini_ is best known in the translation of thomas roscoe in bohn's library. mr. j. addington symonds, however, made a new translation, issued in two fine volumes by nimmo. { d} the _religio medici_ of sir thomas browne can be obtained in many forms, although the well-to-do collector will be satisfied only with the edition edited by simon wilkin. the book is admirably edited by w. a. greenhill for the "golden treasury series." none [illustration] autobiography letters and literary remains of mrs. piozzi (thrale) edited with notes and an introductory account of her life and writings by a. hayward, esq. q.c. * * * * * welcome, associate forms, where'er we turn fill, streatham's hebe, the johnsonian urn--st. stephen's * * * * * in two volumes vol. i. second edition london longman, green, longman, and roberts * * * * * preface to the second edition. * * * * * the first edition of a work of this kind is almost necessarily imperfect; since the editor is commonly dependent for a great deal of the required information upon sources the very existence of which is unknown to him till reminiscences are revived, and communications invited, by the announcement or publication of the book. some valuable contributions reached me too late to be properly placed or effectively worked up; some, too late to be included at all. the arrangement in this edition will therefore, i trust, be found less faulty than in the first, whilst the additions are large and valuable. they principally consist of fresh extracts from mrs. piozzi's private diary ("thraliana"), amounting to more than fifty pages; of additional marginal notes on books, and of copious extracts from letters hitherto unpublished. amongst the effects of her friend conway, the actor, after his untimely death by drowning in north america, were a copy of mrs. piozzi's "travel book" and a copy of johnson's "lives of the poets," each enriched by marginal notes in her handwriting. such of those in the "travel book" as were thought worth printing appeared in "the atlantic monthly" for june last, from which i have taken the liberty of copying the best. the "lives of the poets" is now the property of mr. william alexander smith, of new york, who was so kind as to open a communication with me on the subject, and to have the whole of the marginal notes transcribed for my use at his expense. animated by the same liberal wish to promote a literary undertaking, mr. j.e. gray, son of the rev. dr. robert gray, late bishop of bristol, has placed at my disposal a series of letters from mrs. piozzi to his father, extending over nearly twenty-five years (from to the year of her death) and exceeding a hundred in number. these have been of the greatest service in enabling me to complete and verify the summary of that period of her life. so much light is thrown by the new matter, especially by the extracts from "thraliana," on the alleged rupture between johnson and mrs. piozzi, that i have re-cast or re-written the part of the introduction relating to it, thinking that no pains should be spared to get at the merits of a controversy which now involves, not only the moral and social qualities of the great lexicographer, but the degree of confidence to be placed in the most brilliant and popular of modern critics, biographers and historians. it is no impeachment of his integrity, no detraction from the durable elements of his fame, to offer proof that his splendid imagination ran away with him, or that reliance on his wonderful memory made him careless of verifying his original impressions before recording them in the most gorgeous and memorable language. no one likes to have foolish or erroneous notions imputed to him, and i have pointed out some of the misapprehensions into which an able writer in the "edinburgh review" (no. ) has been hurried by his eagerness to vindicate lord macaulay. moreover, this struck me to be as good a form as any for re-examining the subject in all its bearings; and now that it has become common to reprint articles in a collected shape, the comments of a first-rate review can no longer be regarded as transitory. i gladly seize the present opportunity to offer my best acknowledgments for kind and valuable aid in various shapes, to the marquis of lansdowne, his excellency m. sylvain van de weyer (the belgian minister), the viscountess combermere, mr. and the hon. mrs. monckton milnes, the hon. mrs. rowley, miss angharad lloyd, and the rev. w.h. owen, vicar of st. asaph and dymerchion. , st. james's street: oct. th, . * * * * * contents of the first volume origin and materials of the work object of the introduction origin, education, and character of thrale introduction of johnson to the thrales johnson's habits at the period his household his social position society at streatham blue stocking parties johnson's fondness for female society nature of his intimacy with mrs. thrale his verses to her her age her personal appearance and handwriting portraits of her boswell at streatham her behaviour to johnson her acquirements johnson's estimate of her popular estimate of her manners of her time madame d'arblay at streatham her account of conversations there johnson's politeness mrs. thrale's domestic trials electioneering with johnson thrale's embarrassments, and johnson's advice johnson on housekeeping and dress his opinions on marriage johnson in the country johnson fond of riding in a carriage, but a bad traveller his want of taste for music or painting tour in wales tour in france baretti campbell's diary mrs. thrale's account of her quarrel with baretti his account alleged slight to johnson miss streatfield thrale's infidelity madame d'arblay as an inmate dr. burney mrs. thrale canvassing southwark attack by rioters on the brewhouse thrale's illness and winter in grosvenor square proposed tour thrale's death his will johnson as executor her management of the brewery italian translation a strange incident mrs. montagu--mr. crutchley sale of the brewery mrs. thrale's introduction to piozzi scene with him at dr. burney's her early impressions of him melancholy reflections johnson's regard for thrale mrs. thrale's and johnson's feelings towards each other johnson at streatham after thrale's death piozzi--verses to him johnson's health self-communings town gossip verses on pacchierotti fears for johnson reports of her marrying again reasons for quitting streatham resolution to quit approved by johnson complaints of johnson's indifference piozzi--to marry or not to marry was johnson driven out of streatham his farewell to streatham his last year there johnson and mrs. thrale at brighton conflicting feelings gives up piozzi meditated journey to italy parting with piozzi unkindness of daughters position as regards johnson objections to him as an inmate parting with piozzi verses to him on his departure her undiminished regard for johnson proved by their correspondence character of daughters madame d'arblay, scene with johnson lord brougham's commentary correspondence with johnson recall of piozzi trip to london verses to piozzi on his return journey with daughters feelings on piozzi's return, and marriage objections to her second marriage discussed correspondence with madame d'arblay on the marriage objections of daughters--lady keith correspondence with johnson as to the marriage baretti's story of her alleged deceit her uniform kindness to johnson johnson's feelings and conduct miss wynn's commonplace book johnson's unfounded objections to the marriage and erroneous impressions of piozzi miss seward's account of his loves misrepresentation and erroneous theory of a critic last days and death of johnson lord macaulay's summary of mrs. piozzi's treatment of johnson life in italy projected work on johnson the florence miscellany correspondence with cadell and publication of the "anecdotes" her alleged inaccuracy, with instances h. walpole peter pindar h. walpole again hannah more marginal notes on the "anecdotes" extracts from dr. lort's letters her thoughts on her return from italy her reception miss seward's impressions of her and piozzi publication of the "letters" opinions on them--madame d'arblay, queen charlotte, hannah more, and miss seward baretti's libellous attacks her character of him on his death "the sentimental mother" "johnson's ghost" the travel book offer to cadell publication of the book and criticisms--walpole and miss seward mrs. piozzi's theory of style attacked by walpole and gifford the preface extracts anecdote of goldsmith publication of her "synonyms"--gifford's attack extract remarks on the appearance of boswell's life of johnson "retrospection" moore's anecdotes of her and piozzi lord lansdowne's visit and impressions adoption and education of piozzi's nephew, afterwards sir john salusbury life in wales character and habits of piozzi brynbella illness and death of piozzi miss thrale's marriage the conway episode anecdotes celebration of her eightieth birthday her death and will madame d'arblay's parallel between mrs. piozzi and madame de staël character of mrs. piozzi, moral and intellectual * * * * * autobiography &c. of mrs. piozzi vol. i * * * * * introduction: life and writings of mrs. piozzi. dr. johnson was hailed the colossus of literature by a generation who measured him against men of no common mould--against hume, robertson, gibbon, warburton, the wartons, fielding, richardson, smollett, gray, goldsmith, and burke. any one of these may have surpassed the great lexicographer in some branch of learning or domain of genius; but as a man of letters, in the highest sense of the term, he towered pre-eminent, and his superiority to each of them (except burke) in general acquirements, intellectual power, and force of expression, was hardly contested by his contemporaries. to be associated with his name has become a title of distinction in itself; and some members of his circle enjoy, and have fairly earned, a peculiar advantage in this respect. in their capacity of satellites revolving round the sun of their idolatry, they attracted and reflected his light and heat. as humble companions of their _magnolia grandiflora_, they did more than live with it[ ]; they gathered and preserved the choicest of its flowers. thanks to them, his reputation is kept alive more by what has been saved of his conversation than by his books; and his colloquial exploits necessarily revive the memory of the friends (or victims) who elicited and recorded them. [footnote : "je ne suis pas la rose, mais j'ai vécu près d'elle."--_constant_.] if the two most conspicuous among these have hitherto gained notoriety rather than what is commonly understood by fame, a discriminating posterity is already beginning to make reparation for the wrong. boswell's "letters to temple," edited by mr. francis, with "boswelliana," printed for the philobiblion society by mr. milnes, led, in , to a revisal of the harsh sentence passed on one whom the most formidable of his censors, lord macaulay, has declared to be not less decidedly the first of biographers, than homer is the first of heroic poets, shakspeare the first of dramatists, or demosthenes the first of orators. the result was favourable to boswell, although the vulnerable points of his character were still more glaringly displayed. the appeal about to be hazarded on behalf of mrs. piozzi, will involve little or no risk of this kind. her ill-wishers made the most of the event which so injuriously affected her reputation at the time of its occurrence; and the marked tendency of every additional disclosure of the circumstances has been to elevate her. no candid person will read her autobiography, or her letters, without arriving at the conclusion that her long life was morally, if not conventionally, irreproachable; and that her talents were sufficient to confer on her writings a value and attraction of their own, apart from what they possess as illustrations of a period or a school. when the papers which form the basis of this work were laid before lord macaulay, he gave it as his opinion that they afforded materials for a "most interesting and durably popular volume."[ ] [footnote : his letter, dated august , , was addressed to mr. t. longman. the editorship of the papers was not proposed to me till after his death, and i had never any personal communication with him on the subject; although in the edinburgh review for july , i ventured, with the same freedom which i have used in vindicating mrs. piozzi, to dispute the paradoxical judgment he had passed on boswell. the materials which reached me after i had undertaken the work, and of which he was not aware, would nearly fill a volume.] they comprise:-- . autobiographical memoirs. . letters, mostly addressed to the late sir james fellowes. . fugitive pieces of her composition, most of which have never appeared in print. . manuscript notes by her on wraxall's memoirs, and on her own published works, namely: "anecdotes of the late samuel johnson, ll.d., during the last twenty years of his life," one volume, : "letters to and from the late samuel johnson, ll.d., &c.," in two volumes, : "observations and reflections made in the course of a journey through france, italy, and germany," in two volumes, : "retrospection; or, review of the most striking and important events, characters, situations, and their consequences which the last eighteen hundred years have presented to the view of mankind," in two volumes, quarto, . the "autobiographical memoirs," and the annotated books, were given by her to the late sir james fellowes, of adbury house, hants, m.d., f.r.s., to whom the letters were addressed. he and the late sir john piozzi salusbury were her executors, and the present publication takes place in pursuance of an agreement with their personal representatives, the rev. g.a. salusbury, rector of westbury, salop, and captain j. butler fellowes. large and valuable additions to the original stock of materials have reached me since the announcement of the work. the rev. dr. wellesley, principal of new inn hall, has kindly placed at my disposal his copy of boswell's "life of johnson" (edition of ), plentifully sprinkled with marginal notes by mrs. piozzi. the rev. samuel lysons, of hempsted court, gloucester, has liberally allowed me the free use of his valuable collection of books and manuscripts, including numerous letters from mrs. piozzi to his father and uncle, the rev. daniel lysons and mr. samuel lysons. from to mrs. piozzi kept a copious diary and note-book, called "thraliana." johnson thus alludes to it in a letter of september th, : "as you have little to do, i suppose you are pretty diligent at the 'thraliana;' and a very curious collection posterity will find it. do not remit the practice of writing down occurrences as they arise, of whatever kind, and be very punctual in annexing the dates. chronology, you know, is the eye of history. do not omit painful casualties or unpleasing passages; they make the variegation of existence; and there are many passages of which i will not promise, with Æneas, _et hæc olim meminisse juvabit_." "thraliana," which at one time she thought of burning, is now in the possession of mr. salusbury, who deems it of too private and delicate a character to be submitted to strangers, but has kindly supplied me with some curious passages and much valuable information extracted from it. i shall have many minor obligations to acknowledge as i proceed. unless mrs. piozzi's character and social position are freshly remembered, her reminiscences and literary remains will lose much of their interest and utility. it has therefore been thought advisable to recapitulate, by way of introduction, what has been ascertained from other sources concerning her; especially during her intimacy with johnson, which lasted nearly twenty years, and exercised a marked influence on his tone of mind. "this year ( )," says boswell, "was distinguished by his (johnson) being introduced into the family of mr. thrale, one of the most eminent brewers in england, and member of parliament for the borough of southwark.... johnson used to give this account of the rise of mr. thrale's father: 'he worked at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great brewery, which afterwards was his own. the proprietor of it had an only daughter, who was married to a nobleman. it was not fit that a peer should continue the business. on the old man's death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. to find a purchaser for so large a property was a difficult matter; and after some time, it was suggested that it would be advisable to treat with thrale, a sensible, active, honest man, who had been employed in the house, and to transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security being taken upon the property. this was accordingly settled. in eleven years thrale paid the purchase money. he acquired a large fortune, and lived to be a member of parliament for southwark. but what was most remarkable was the liberality with which he used his riches. he gave his son and daughters the best education. the esteem which his good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had married his master's daughter made him be treated with much attention; and his son, both at school and at the university of oxford, associated with young men of the first rank. his allowance from his father, after he left college, was splendid; not less than a thousand a year. this, in a man who had risen as old thrale did, was a very extraordinary instance of generosity. he used to say, 'if this young dog does not find so much after i am gone as he expects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in my own time.'" what is here stated regarding thrale's origin, on the alleged authority of johnson, is incorrect. the elder thrale was the nephew of halsey, the proprietor of the brewery whose daughter was married to a nobleman (lord cobham), and he naturally nourished hopes of being his uncle's successor. in the abbey church of st. albans, there is a monument to some members of the thrale family who died between and , adorned with a shield of arms and a crest on a ducal coronet. mrs. thrale's marginal note on boswell's account of her husband's family is curious and characteristic: "edmund halsey was son to a miller at st. albans, with whom he quarrelled, like ralph in the 'maid of the mill,' and ran away to london with a very few shillings in his pocket.[ ] he was eminently handsome, and old child of the anchor brewhouse, southwark, took him in as what we call a broomstick clerk, to sweep the yard, &c. edmund halsey behaved so well he was soon preferred to be a house-clerk, and then, having free access to his master's table, married his only daughter, and succeeded to the business upon child's demise. being now rich and prosperous, he turned his eyes homewards, where he learned that sister sukey had married a hardworking man at offley in hertfordshire, and had many children. he sent for one of them to london (my mr. thrale's father); said he would make a man of him, and did so: but made him work very hard, and treated him very roughly, halsey being more proud than tender, and his only child, a daughter, married to lord cobham. "old thrale, however, as these fine writers call him,--then a young fellow, and, like his uncle, eminent for personal beauty,--made himself so useful to mr. halsey that the weight of the business fell entirely on him; and while edmund was canvassing the borough and visiting the viscountess, ralph thrale was getting money both for himself and his principal: who, envious of his success with a wench they both liked but who preferred the young man to the old one, died, leaving him never a guinea, and he bought the brewhouse of lord and lady cobham, making an excellent bargain, with the money he had saved." [footnote : in "thraliana" she says: "strolled to london with only _s._ _d._ in his pocket."] when, in the next page but one, boswell describes thrale as presenting the character of a plain independent english squire, she writes: "no, no! mr. thrale's manners presented the character of a gay man of the town: like millamant, in congreve's comedy, he abhorred the country and everything in it." in "thraliana" after a corresponding statement, she adds: "he (the elder thrale) educated his son and three daughters quite in a high style. his son he wisely connected with the cobhams and their relations, grenvilles, lyttletons, and pitts, to whom he lent money, and they lent assistance of every other kind, so that my mr. thrale was bred up at stowe, and stoke and oxford, and every genteel place; had been abroad with lord westcote, whose expenses old thrale cheerfully paid, i suppose, who was thus a kind of tutor to the young man, who had not failed to profit by these advantages, and who was, when he came down to offley to see his father's birthplace, a very handsome and well accomplished gentleman." after expatiating on the advantages of birth, and the presumption of new men in attempting to found a new system of gentility, boswell proceeds: "mr. thrale had married miss hester lynch salusbury, of good welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by education. that johnson's introduction into mr. thrale's family, which contributed so much to the happiness of his life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is a very probable and the general supposition; but it is not the truth. mr. murphy, who was intimate with mr. thrale, having spoken very highly of dr. johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted. this being mentioned to johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner at thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception both by mr. and mrs. thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to their house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house at southwark and in their villa at streatham." long before this was written, boswell had quarrelled with mrs. thrale (as it is most convenient to call her till her second marriage), and he takes every opportunity of depreciating her. he might at least, however, have stated that, instead of sanctioning the "general supposition" as to the introduction, she herself supplied the account of it which he adopts. in her "anecdotes" she says: "the first time i ever saw this extraordinary man was in the year , when mr. murphy, who had long been the friend and confidential intimate of mr. thrale, persuaded him to wish for johnson's conversation, extolling it in terms which that of no other person could have deserved, till we were only in doubt how to obtain his company, and find an excuse for the invitation. the celebrity of mr. woodhouse, a shoemaker, whose verses were at that time the subject of common discourse, soon afforded a pretence[ ], and mr. murphy brought johnson to meet him, giving me general caution not to be surprised at his figure, dress, or behaviour[ ].... mr. johnson liked his new acquaintance so much, however, that from that time he dined with us every thursday through the winter, and in the autumn of the next year he followed us to brighthelmstone, whence we were gone before his arrival; so he was disappointed and enraged, and wrote us a letter expressive of anger, which we were very desirous to pacify, and to obtain his company again if possible. mr. murphy brought him back to us again very kindly, and from that time his visits grew more frequent, till in the year his health, which he had always complained of, grew so exceedingly bad, that he could not stir out of his room in the court he inhabited for many weeks together, i think months." [footnote : "he (johnson) spoke with much contempt of the notice taken of woodhouse, the poetical shoemaker. he said that it was all vanity and childishness, and that such objects were to those who patronised them, mere mirrors of their own superiority. they had better, said he, furnish the man with good implements for his trade, than raise subscriptions for his poems. he may make an excellent shoemaker, but can never make a good poet. a schoolboy's exercise may be a pretty thing for a schoolboy, but it is no treat to a man."--_maxwell's collectanea_.] the "anecdotes" were written in italy, where she had no means of reference. the account given in "thraliana" has a greater air of freshness, and proves boswell right as to the year. "it was on the second thursday of the month of january, , that i first saw mr. johnson in a room. murphy, whose intimacy with mr. thrale had been of many years' standing, was one day dining with us at our house in southwark, and was zealous that we should be acquainted with johnson, of whose moral and literary character he spoke in the most exalted terms; and so whetted our desire of seeing him soon that we were only disputing _how_ he should be invited, _when_ he should be invited, and what should be the pretence. at last it was resolved that one woodhouse, a shoemaker, who had written some verses, and been asked to some tables, should likewise be asked to ours, and made a temptation to mr. johnson to meet him: accordingly he came, and mr. murphy at four o'clock brought mr. johnson to dinner. we liked each other so well that the next thursday was appointed for the same company to meet, exclusive of the shoemaker, and since then johnson has remained till this day our constant acquaintance, visitor, companion, and friend." in the "anecdotes" she goes on to say that when she and her husband called on johnson one morning in johnson's court, fleet street, he gave way to such an uncontrolled burst of despair regarding the world to come, that mr. thrale tried to stop his mouth by placing one hand before it, and desired her to prevail on him to quit his close habitation for a period and come with them to streatham. he complied, and took up his abode with them from before midsummer till after michaelmas in that year. during the next sixteen years a room in each of their houses was set apart for him. the principal difficulty at first was to induce him to live peaceably with her mother, who took a strong dislike to him, and constantly led the conversation to topics which he detested, such as foreign news and politics. he revenged himself by writing to the newspapers accounts of events which never happened, for the sole purpose of mystifying her; and probably not a few of his mischievous fictions have passed current for history. they made up their differences before her death, and a latin epitaph of the most eulogistic order from his pen is inscribed upon her tomb. it had been well for mrs. thrale and her guests if there had existed no more serious objection to johnson as an inmate. at the commencement of the acquaintance, he was fifty-six; an age when habits are ordinarily fixed: and many of his were of a kind which it required no common temper and tact to tolerate or control. they had been formed at a period when he was frequently subjected to the worst extremities of humiliating poverty and want. he describes savage, without money to pay for a night's lodging in a cellar, walking about the streets till he was weary, and sleeping in summer upon a bulk or in winter amongst the ashes of a glass-house. he was savage's associate on several occasions of the sort. he told sir joshua reynolds that, one night in particular, when savage and he walked round st. james's square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed; but in high spirits, and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and "resolved they would stand by their country." whilst at college he threw away the shoes left at his door to replace the worn-out pair in which he appeared daily. his clothes were in so tattered a state whilst he was writing for the "gentleman's magazine" that, instead of taking his seat at cave's table, he sate behind a screen and had his victuals sent to him. talking of the symptoms of christopher smart's madness, he said, "another charge was that he did not love clean linen; and i have no passion for it." his deficiency in this respect seems to have made a lasting impression on his hostess. referring to a couplet in "the vanity of human wishes":-- "through all his veins the fever of renown _spreads_ from the strong contagion of the gown," "he had desired me (says boswell) to change _spreads_ into _burns._ i thought this alteration not only cured the fault, but was more poetical, as it might carry an allusion to the shirt by which hercules was inflamed." she has written in the margin: "every fever burns i believe; but bozzy could think only on nessus' dirty shirt, or dr. johnson's." in another marginal note she disclaims that attention to the doctor's costume for which boswell gives her credit, when, after relating how he had been called into a shop by johnson to assist in the choice of a pair of silver buckles, he adds: "probably this alteration in dress had been suggested by mrs. thrale, by associating with whom his external appearance was much improved." she writes: "it was suggested by mr. thrale, not by his wife." in general his wigs were very shabby, and their foreparts were burned away by the near approach of the candle, which his short-sightedness rendered necessary in reading. at streatham, mr. thrale's valet had always a better wig ready, with which he met johnson at the parlour door when dinner was announced, and as he went up stairs to bed, the same man followed him with another. one of his applications to cave for a trifling advance of money is signed _impransus_ (dinnerless); and he told boswell that he could fast two days without inconvenience, and had never been hungry but once. what he meant by hungry is not easy to explain, for his every day manner of eating was that of a half-famished man. when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks were riveted to his plate, till he had satisfied his appetite; which was indulged with such in-* tenseness, that the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. until he left off drinking fermented liquors altogether, he acted on the maxim "claret for boys, port for men, brandy for heroes." he preferred the strongest because he said it did its work (_i.e._ intoxicate) the soonest. he used to pour capillaire into his port wine, and melted butter into his chocolate. his favourite dishes are accurately enumerated by peter pindar: madame piozzi _(loquitur)._ "dear doctor johnson loved a leg of pork, and hearty on it would his grinders work: he lik'd to eat it so much over done, that _one_ might shake the flesh from off the bone. a veal pye too, with sugar crammed and plums, was wondrous grateful to the doctor's gums. though us'd from morn to night on fruit to stuff, he vow'd his belly never had enough." mr. thackeray relates in his "irish sketches" that on his asking for currant jelly for his venison at a public dinner, the waiter replied, "it's all gone, your honour, but there's some capital lobster sauce left." this would have suited johnson equally well, or better: he was so fond of lobster sauce that he would call for the sauce-boat and pour the whole of its remaining contents over his plum pudding. a clergyman who once travelled with him relates, "the coach halted as usual for dinner, which seemed to be a deeply interesting business to johnson, who vehemently attacked a dish of stewed carp, using his fingers only in feeding himself." at the dinner when he passed his celebrated sentence on the leg of mutton--"that it was as bad as bad could be: ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-dressed"--the ladies, his fellow-passengers, observed his loss or equanimity with wonder. two of mrs. thrale's marginal notes on boswell refer to her illustrious friend's mode of eating. on his reported remark, that "a dog will take a small bit of meat as readily as a large, when both are before him," she adds, "which johnson would never have done." when boswell, describing the dinner with wilkes at davies', says, "no man eat more heartily than johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate," she strikes in with--"what was gustful rather: what was strong that he could taste it, what was tender that he could chew it." when boswell describes him as occupied for a considerable time in reading the "memoirs of fontenelle," leaning and swinging upon the low gate into the court (at streatham) without his hat, her note is: "i wonder how he liked the story of the asparagus,"--an obvious hint at his selfish habits of indulgence at table. with all this he affected great nicety of palate, and did not like being asked to a plain dinner. "it was a good dinner enough," he would remark, "but it was not a dinner to ask a man to." he was so displeased with the performances of a nobleman's french cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, "i'd throw such a rascal into the river;" and in reference to one of his edinburgh hosts he said, "as for maclaurin's imitation of a made dish, it was a wretched attempt." his voice was loud, and his gesticulations, voluntary or involuntary, singularly uncouth. he had superstitious fancies about crossing thresholds or squares in the carpet with the right or left leg foremost, and when he did not appear at dinner might be found vainly endeavouring to pass a particular spot in the anteroom. he loved late hours, or more properly (say mrs. thrale) hated early ones. nothing was more terrifying to him than the idea of going to bed, which he never would call going to rest, or suffer another to call it so. "i lie down that my acquaintance may sleep; but i lie down to endure oppressive misery, and soon rise again to pass the night in anxiety and pain." when people could be induced to sit up with him, they were often amply compensated by his rich flow of mind; but the resulting sacrifice of health and comfort in an establishment where this sitting up became habitual, was inevitably great.[ ] instead of being grateful, he always maintained that no one forbore his own gratification for the purpose of pleasing another, and "if one did sit up, it was probably to amuse oneself." boswell excuses his wife for not coinciding in his enthusiasm, by admitting that his illustrious friend's irregular hours and uncouth habits, such as turning the candles with their ends downwards when they did not burn bright enough, and letting the wax drop upon the carpet, could not but be displeasing to a lady. he was generally last at breakfast, but one morning happened to be first and waited some time alone; when afterwards twitted by mrs. thrale with irregularity, he replied, "madam, i do not like to come down to vacuity." [footnote : dr. burney states that in "he very frequently met johnson at streatham, where they had many long conversations, after sitting up as long as the fire and candles lasted, and much longer than the patience of the servants subsisted."] he was subject to dreadful fits of depression, caused or accompanied by compunction for venial or fancied sins, by the fear of death or madness--(the only things he did fear), and by ingrained ineradicable disease. when boswell speaks of his "striving against evil," "ay," she writes in the margin, "and against the king's evil." if his early familiarity with all the miseries of destitution, aggravated by disease, had increased his natural roughness and irritability, on the other hand it had helped largely to bring out his sterling virtues,--his discriminating charity, his genuine benevolence, his well-timed generosity, his large-hearted sympathy with real suffering. but he required it to be material and positive, and scoffed at mere mental or sentimental woes. "the sight of people who want food and raiment is so common in great cities, that a surly fellow like me has no compassion to spare for wounds given only to vanity or softness." he said it was enough to make a plain man sick to hear pity lavished on a family reduced by losses to exchange a fine house for a snug cottage; and when condolence was demanded for a lady of rank in mourning for a baby, he contrasted her with a washerwoman with half-a-dozen children dependent on her daily labour for their daily bread.[ ] [footnote : "it's weel wi' you gentles that can sit in the house wi' handkerchers at your een when ye lose a friend; but the like o' us maun to our wark again, if our hearts were beating as hard as any hammer."--_the antiquary_. for this very reason the "gentles" commonly suffer most.] lord macaulay thus portrays the objects of johnson's hospitality as soon as he had got a house to cover them. "it was the home of the most extraordinary assemblage of inmates that ever was brought together. at the head of the establishment he had placed an old lady named williams, whose chief recommendations were her blindness and her poverty. but in spite of her murmurs and reproaches, he gave an asylum to another lady who was as poor as herself, mrs. desmoulins, whose family he had known many years before in staffordshire. room was found for the daughter of mrs. desmoulins, and for another destitute damsel, who was generally addressed as mrs. carmichael, but whom her generous host called polly. an old quack doctor called levet, who bled and dosed coalheavers and hackney coachmen, and received for fees crusts of bread, bits of bacon, glasses of gin, and sometimes a little copper, completed this menagerie."[ ] [footnote : miscellaneous writings, vol. i. p. .] mrs. williams was the daughter of a physician, and of a good welsh family, who did not leave her dependent on johnson. she is termed by madame d'arblay a very pretty poet, and was treated with uniform respect by him.[ ] all the authorities for the account of levet were collected by hawkins[ ]: from these it appears that his patients were "chiefly of the lowest class of tradesmen," and that, although he took all that was offered him by way of fee, including meat and drink, he demanded nothing from the poor, nor was known in any instance to have enforced the payment of even what was justly his due. hawkins adds that he (levet) had acted for many years in the capacity of surgeon and apothecary to johnson under the direction of dr. lawrence. [footnote : miss cornelia knight, in her "autobiography," warmly vindicates her respectability, and refers to a memoir, by lady knight, in the "european magazine" for oct. .] [footnote : life of johnson, p. - .] "when fainting nature called for aid, and hovering death prepared the blow, his vigorous remedy display'd the power of art without the show; no summons mocked by chill delay, _no petty gains disdained by pride,_ the modest wants of every day the toil of every day supplied." johnson's verses, compared with lord macaulay's prose, strikingly shew how the same subject can be degraded or elevated by the mode of treatment; and how easily the historian or biographer, who expands his authorities by picturesque details, may brighten or darken characters at will. to complete the picture of johnson's interior, it should be added that the inmates of his house were quarrelling from, morning to night with one another, with his negro servant, or with himself. in one of his letters to mrs. thrale, he says, "williams hates everybody: levet hates desmoulins, and does not love williams: desmoulins hates them both: poll (miss carmichael) loves none of them." in a conversation at streatham, reported by madame d'arblay, the _menagerie_ was thus humorously described:-- "_mrs. thrale_.--mr. levet, i suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the hospital in health? for he is an apothecary. "_dr. j_.--levet, madam, is a brutal fellow, but i have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind. "_mr. thrale_.--but how do you get your dinners drest? "_dr. j_.--why de mullin has the chief management of the kitchen; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack. "_mr. t_.--no jack? why how do they manage without? "_dr. j_.--small joints, i believe, they manage with a string, and larger are done at the tavern. i have some thoughts (with a profound gravity) of buying a jack, because i think a jack is some credit to a house. "_mr. t_.--well, but you will have a spit, too? "_dr. j_.--no, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never use it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed! "_mrs. t_.--but pray, sir, who is the poll you talk of? she that you used to abet in her quarrels with mrs. williams, and call out,' at her again, poll! never flinch, poll!' "_dr. j_.--why i took to poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination. "_mrs. t_.--how came she among you, sir? "_dr. j_.--why i don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. poll is a stupid slut; i had some hopes of her at first; but when i talked to her tightly and closely, i could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and i could never persuade her to be categorical." the effect of an unbroken residence with such inmates, on a man of irritable temper subject to morbid melancholy, may be guessed; and the merit of the thrales in rescuing him from it, and in soothing down his asperities, can hardly be over-estimated. lord macaulay says, they were flattered by finding that a man so widely celebrated preferred their house to every other in london; and suggests that even the peculiarities which seem to unfit him for civilised society, including his gesticulations, his rollings, his puffings, his mutterings, and the ravenous eagerness with which he devoured his food, increased the interest which his new associates took in him. his hostess does not appear to have viewed them in that light, and she was able to command the best company of the intellectual order without the aid of a "lion," or a bear. if his conversation attracted many, it drove away many, and silenced more. he accounted for the little attention paid him by the great, by saying that "great lords and great ladies do not like to have their mouths stopped," as if this was peculiar to them as a class. "my leddie," remarks cuddie in "old mortality," "canna weel bide to be contradicted, as i ken neabody likes, if they could help themselves." johnson was in the zenith of his fame when literature, politics, and fashion began to blend together again by hardly perceptible shades, like the colours in shot-silk, as they had partially done in the augustan age of queen anne. one marked sign was the formation of the literary club (the club, as it still claims to be called), which brought together fox, burke, gibbon, johnson, goldsmith, garrick, reynolds, and beauclerc, besides blackballing a bishop (the bishop of chester), and a lord-chancellor (camden).[ ] yet it is curious to observe within how narrow a circle of good houses the doctor's engagements were restricted. reynolds, paoli, beauclerc, allan ramsay, hoole, dilly, strahan, lord lucan, langton, garrick, and the club formed his main reliance as regards dinners; and we find boswell recording with manifest symptoms of exultation in : "i dined with him at a bishop's where were sir joshua reynolds, mr. berenger, and some more company. he had dined the day before at another bishop's." his reverence for the episcopal bench well merited some return on their part. mr. seward saw him presented to the archbishop of york, and described his bow to an archbishop as such a studied elaboration of homage, such an extension of limb, such a flexion of body, as have seldom or ever been equalled. the lay nobility were not equally grateful, although his deference for the peerage was extreme. except in scotland or on his travels, he is seldom found dining with a nobleman. [footnote : canning was blackballed the first time he was proposed. he was elected in , mr. windham being his proposer, and dr. burney his seconder.] it is therefore hardly an exaggeration to say that he owed more social enjoyment to the thrales than to all the rest of his acquaintance put together. holland house alone, and in its best days, would convey to persons living in our time an adequate conception of the streatham circle, when it comprised burke, reynolds, garrick, goldsmith, boswell, murphy, dr. burney and his daughter, mrs. montagu, mrs. boscawen, mrs. crewe, lord loughborough, dunning (afterwards lord ashburton), lord mulgrave, lord westcote, sir lucas and mr. (afterwards sir william) pepys, major holroyd afterwards lord sheffield, the bishop of london and mrs. porteous, the bishop of peterborough and mrs. hinchcliffe, miss gregory, miss streatfield, &c. as at holland house, the chief scene of warm colloquial contest or quiet interchange of mind was the library, a large and handsome room, which the pencil of reynolds gradually enriched with portraits of all the principal persons who had conversed or studied in it. to supply any deficiencies on the shelves, a hundred pounds, madame d'arblay states, was placed at johnson's disposal to expend in books; and we may take it for granted that any new publication suggested by him was ordered at once. but a bookish couple, surrounded by a literary set, were surely not exclusively dependent on him for this description of help, nor laid under any extraordinary obligation by reason of it. whilst the "lives of the poets" was in progress, dr. johnson "would frequently produce one of the proof sheets to embellish the breakfast table, which was always in the library, and was certainly the most sprightly and agreeable meeting of the day." ... "these proof sheets mrs. thrale was permitted to read aloud, and the discussions to which they led were in the highest degree entertaining."[ ] [footnote : "memoirs of dr. burney," &c., by his daughter, madame d'arblay. in three volumes, . vol. ii. p. - .] it was mainly owing to his domestication with the thrales that he began to frequent drawing-rooms at an age when the arm-chair at home or at the club has an irresistible charm for most men of sedentary pursuits. it must be admitted that the evening parties in which he was seen, afforded a chance of something better than the "unidead chatter of girls," with an undue fondness for which he reproached langton; for the _blue stocking_ clubs had just come into fashion,--so called from a casual allusion to the blue stockings of an _habitué_, mr. stillingfleet.[ ] their founders were mrs. vesey and mrs. montagu; but according to madame d'arblay, "more bland and more gleeful than that of either of them, was the personal celebrity of mrs. thrale. mrs. vesey, indeed, gentle and diffident, dreamed not of any competition, but mrs. montagu and mrs. thrale had long been set up as rival candidates for colloquial eminence, and each of them thought the other alone worthy to be her peer. openly therefore when they met, they combated for precedence of admiration, with placid though high-strained intellectual exertion on the one side, and an exuberant pleasantry or classical allusion or quotation on the other; without the smallest malice in either." [footnote : the first of these was then (about ) in the meridian of its lustre, but had been instituted many years previously at bath, it owed its name to an apology made by mr. stillingfleet in declining to accept an invitation to a literary meeting at mrs. vesey's, from not being, he said, in the habit of displaying a proper equipment for an evening assembly. "pho, pho," said she, "don't mind dress. come in your blue stockings." with which words, humorously repeating them as he entered the apartment of the chosen coterie, mr. stillingfleet claimed permission for entering according to order. and these words, ever after, were fixed, in playful stigma, upon mrs. vesey's associations. _(madame d'arblay.)_ boswell also traces the term to stillingfleet's blue stockings; and hannah more's "bas-bleu" gave it a permanent place in literature.] a different account of the origin of bluestocking parties was given by lady crewe to a lady who has allowed me to copy her note of the conversation, made at the time ( ): "lady crewe told me that her mother (mrs. greville), the duchess of portland, and mrs. montagu were the first who began the conversation parties in imitation of the noted ones, _temp._ madame de sevigne', at rue st. honore. madame de polignac, one of the first guests, came in blue silk stockings, then the newest fashion in paris. mrs. greville and all the lady members of mrs. montagu's _club_, adopted the _mode_. a foreign gentleman, after spending an evening at mrs. montagu's _soirée_, wrote to tell a friend of the charming intellectual party, who had one rule; 'they wear blue stockings as a distinction.'" wraxall, who makes the same comparison, remarks: "mrs. thrale always appeared to me to possess at least as much information, a mind as cultivated, and more brilliancy of intellect than mrs. montagu, but she did not descend among men from such an eminence, and she talked much more, as well as more unguardedly, on every subject. she was the provider and conductress of johnson, who lived almost constantly under her roof, or more properly under that of mr. thrale, both in town and at streatham. he did not, however, spare her more than other women in his attacks if she courted and provoked his animadversions." although he seldom appeared to greater advantage than when under the combined spell of feminine influence and rank, his demeanour varied with his mood. on miss monkton's (afterwards countess of cork) insisting, one evening, that sterne's writings were very pathetic, johnson bluntly denied it. "i am sure," she rejoined, "they have affected me." "why," said johnson, smiling and rolling himself about, "that is because, dearest, you're a dunce." when she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said, with equal truth and politeness, "madam, if i had thought so, i certainly should not have said it." he did not come off so well on another occasion, when the presence of women he respected might be expected to operate as a cheek. talking, at mrs. garrick's, of a very respectable author, he told us, says boswell, "a curious circumstance in his life, which was that he had married a printer's devil. _reynolds_. 'a printer's devil, sir! why, i thought a printer's devil was a creature with a black face and in rags.' _johnson_. 'yes, sir. but i suppose he had her face washed, and put clean clothes on her.' then, looking very serious, and very earnest. 'and she did not disgrace him;--the woman had a bottom of good sense.' the word _bottom_ thus introduced was so ludicrous when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not forbear tittering and laughing; though i recollect that the bishop of killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while miss hannah more slily hid her face behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee with her. his pride could not bear that any expression of his should excite ridicule, when he did not intend it: he therefore resolved to assume and exercise despotic power, glanced sternly around, and called out in a strong tone, 'where's the merriment?' then collecting himself, and looking awful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and as it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly pronounced, 'i say the _woman_ was _fundamentally_ sensible;' as if he had said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. we all sat composed as at a funeral." this resembles the influence exercised by the "great commoner" over the house of commons. an instance being mentioned of his throwing an adversary into irretrievable confusion by an arrogant expression of contempt, the late mr. charles butler asked the relator, an eye-witness, whether the house did not laugh at the ridiculous figure of the poor member. "no, sir," was the reply, "we were too much awed to laugh." it was a marked feature in johnson's character that he was fond of female society; so fond, indeed, that on coming to london he was obliged to be on his guard against the temptations to which it exposed him. he left off attending the green room, telling grarrick, "i'll come no more behind your scenes, davy; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities." the proneness of his imagination to wander in this forbidden field is unwittingly betrayed by his remarking at sky, in support of the doctrine that animal substances are less cleanly than vegetable: "i have _often_ thought that, if i kept a seraglio, the ladies should all wear linen gowns, or cotton, i mean stuffs made of vegetable substances. i would have no silks: you cannot tell when it is clean: it will be very nasty before it is perceived to be so; linen detects its own dirtiness." his virtue thawed instead of becoming more rigid in the north. "this evening," records boswell of their visit to an hebridean chief, "one of our married ladies, a lively pretty little woman, good-humouredly sat down upon dr. johnson's knee, and being encouraged by some of the company, put her hands round his neck and kissed him. 'do it again,' said he, 'and let us see who will tire first.' he kept her on his knee some time whilst he and she drank tea." the rev. dr. maxwell relates in his "collectanea," that "two young women from staffordshire visited him when i was present, to consult him on the subject of methodism, to which they were inclined. 'come,' said he, 'you pretty fools, dine with maxwell and me at the mitre, and we will talk over that subject:' which they did, and after dinner he took one of them upon his knee, and fondled her for half an hour together." [ ] [footnote : "amongst his singularities, his love of conversing with the prostitutes he met in the streets, was not the least. he has been known to carry some of these unfortunate creatures into a tavern, for the sake of striving to awaken in them a proper sense of their condition. i remember, he said, once asking one of them for what purpose she supposed her maker had bestowed on her so much beauty. her answer was, 'to please the gentlemen, to be sure; for what other purpose could it be given me?" _(johnsoniana.)_ he once carried one, fainting from exhaustion, home on his back.] women almost always like men who like women; or as the phenomenon is explained by pope-- "lust, through some certain strainers well refined, is gentle love, and charms all womankind." johnson, despite of his unwieldy figure, scarred features and uncouth gestures, was a favourite with the fair, and talked of affairs of the heart as things of which he was entitled to speak from personal experience as confidently as of any other moral or social topics. he told mrs. thrale, without the smallest consciousness of presumption or what mr. square would term the unfitness of things, of his and lord lyttleton's having contended for miss boothby's preference with an emulation that occasioned hearty disgust and ended in lasting animosity. "you may see," he added, when the lives of the poets were printed, "that dear boothby is at my heart still. she would delight in that fellow lyttleton's company though, all that i could do, and i cannot forgive even his memory the preference given by a mind like hers." [ ] [footnote : in point of personal advantages the man of rank and fashion and the scholar were nearly on a par. "but who is this astride the pony, so long, so lean, so lank, so bony? dat be de great orator, littletony."] mr. croker surmises that "molly aston," not "dear boothby," must have been the object of this rivalry[ ]; and the surmise is strengthened by johnson's calling molly the loveliest creature he ever saw; adding (to mrs. thrale), "my wife was a little jealous, and happening one day when walking in the country to meet a fortune-hunting gipsy, mrs. johnson made the wench look at my hand, but soon repented of her curiosity,'for,' says the gipsy, 'your heart is divided between a betty and a molly: betty loves you best, but you take most delight in molly's company.' when i turned about to laugh, i saw my wife was crying. pretty charmer, she had no reason." this pretty charmer was in her forty-eighth year when he married her, he being then twenty-seven. he told beauclerc that it was a love match on both sides; and garrick used to draw ludicrous pictures of their mutual fondness, which he heightened by representing her as short, fat, tawdrily dressed, and highly rouged. [footnote : see "croker's boswell," p. , and malone's note in the prior edition.] on the question whether "molly aston" or "dear boothby" was the cause of his dislike of lyttleton, one of mrs. piozzi's marginal notes is decisive. "mrs. thrale (says boswell) suggests that he was offended by molly aston's preference of his lordship to him." she retorts: "i never said so. i believe lord lyttleton and molly aston were not acquainted. no, no: it was miss boothby whose preference he professed to have been jealous of, and so i said in the 'anecdotes.'" one of rochefoucauld's maxims is: "young women who do not wish to appear _coquette_, and men of advanced years who do not wish to appear ridiculous, should never speak of love as of a thing in which they might take part." mrs. thrale relates an amusing instance of johnson's adroitness in escaping from the dilemma: "as we had been saying one day that no subject failed of receiving dignity from the manner in which mr. johnson treated it, a lady at my house said, she would make him talk about love; and took her measures accordingly, deriding the novels of the day because they treated about love. 'it is not,' replied our philosopher, 'because they treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable: we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt, never was happy, and he who laughs at, never deserves to feel--a passion which has caused the change of empires, and the loss of worlds--a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice.' he thought he had already said too much. 'a passion, in short,' added he, with an altered tone, 'that consumes me away for my pretty fanny here, and she 'is very cruel,' speaking of another lady (miss burney) in the room." as the high-flown language which he occasionally employed in addressing or discussing women, has originated a theory that the basis or essence of his character was romance, it may be as well to contrast what he said in soberer moods on love. he remarked to dr. maxwell, that "its violence and ill-effects were much exaggerated; for who knows any real sufferings on that head, more than from the exorbitancy of any other passion?" on boswell asking him whether he did not suppose that there are fifty women in the world with any of whom a man may be as happy as with any one woman in particular, he replied, "ay, sir, fifty thousand. i believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the lord-chancellor upon a due consideration of the characters and circumstances without the parties having any choice in the matter." on another occasion he observed that sensible men rarely married for love. these peculiarities throw light on more questions than one relating to johnson's prolonged intimacy and alleged quarrel with mrs. thrale. his gallantry, and the flattering air of deferential tenderness which he threw into his commerce with his female favourites, may have had little less to do with his domestication at streatham than his celebrity, his learning, or his wit. the most submissive wife will manage to dislodge an inmate who is displeasing to her, "aye, a marriage, man," said bucklaw to his led captain, "but wherefore droops thy mighty spirit? the board will have a corner, and the corner will have a trencher, and the trencher will have a glass beside it; and the board end shall be filled, and the trencher and the glass shall be replenished for thee, if all the petticoats in lothian had sworn the contrary." "so says many an honest fellow," said craigenfelt, "and some of my special friends; but curse me if i know the reason, the women could never bear me, and always contrived to trundle me out before the honey-moon was over."[ ] [footnote : bride of lammermoor.] it was all very well for johnson to tell boswell, "i know no man who is more master of his wife and family than thrale. if he holds up a finger, he is obeyed." the sage never acted on the theory, and instead of treating the wife as a cipher, lost no opportunity of paying court to her, though in a manner quite compatible with his own lofty spirit of independence and self-respect. thus, attention having been called to some italian verses by baretti, he converted them into an elegant compliment to her by an improvised paraphrase: "viva! viva la padrona! tutta bella, e tutta buona, la padrona e un angiolella tutta buona e tutta bella; tutta bella e tutta buona; viva! viva la padrona!" "long may live my lovely hetty! always young and always pretty; always pretty, always young, live my lovely hetty long! always young and always pretty; long may live my lovely hetty!" her marginal note in the copy of the "anecdotes" presented by her to sir james fellowes in is:--"i heard these verses sung at mr. thomas's by three voices not three weeks ago." it was in the eighth year of their acquaintance that johnson solaced his fatigue in the hebrides by writing a latin ode to her. "about fourteen years since," wrote sir walter scott, in , "i landed in sky with a party of friends, and had the curiosity to ask what was the first idea on every one's mind at landing. all answered separately that it was this ode." thinking miss cornelia knight's version too diffuse, i asked mr. milnes for a translation or paraphrase, and he kindly complied by producing these spirited stanzas: "where constant mist enshrouds the rocks, shattered in earth's primeval shocks, and niggard nature ever mocks the labourer's toil, i roam through clans of savage men, untamed by arts, untaught by pen; or cower within some squalid den o'er reeking soil. through paths that halt from stone to stone, amid the din of tongues unknown, one image haunts my soul alone, thine, gentle thrale! soothes she, i ask, her spouse's care? does mother-love its charge prepare? stores she her mind with knowledge rare, or lively tale? forget me not! thy faith i claim, holding a faith that cannot die, that fills with thy benignant name these shores of sky." "on another occasion," says mrs. thrale, in the "anecdotes," "i can boast verses from dr. johnson. as i went into his room the morning of my birthday once and said to him, 'nobody sends me any verses now, because i am five-and-thirty years old; and stella was fed with them till forty-six, i remember.' my being just recovered from illness and confinement will account for the manner in which he burst out suddenly, for so he did without the least previous hesitation whatsoever, and without having entertained the smallest intention towards it half a minute before: "oft in danger, yet alive, we are come to thirty-five; long may better years arrive, better years than thirty-five. could philosophers contrive life to stop at thirty-five, time his hours should never drive o'er the bounds of thirty-five. high to soar, and deep to dive, nature gives at thirty-five. ladies, stock and tend your hive, trifle not at thirty-five; for howe'er we boast and strive, life declines from thirty-five; he that ever hopes to thrive must begin by thirty-five; and all who wisely wish to wive must look on thrale at thirty-five." "'and now,' said he, as i was writing them down, 'you may see what it is to come for poetry to a dictionary-maker; you may observe that the rhymes run in alphabetical order exactly.' and so they do." byron's estimate of life at the same age, is somewhat different: "too old for youth--too young, at thirty-five to herd with boys, or hoard with good threescore, i wonder people should he left alive. but since they are, that epoch is a bore." lady aldborough, whose best witticisms unluckily lie under the same merited ban as rochester's best verses, resolved not to pass twenty-five, and had her passport made out accordingly till her death at eighty-five. she used to boast that, whenever a foreign official objected, she never failed to silence him by the remark, that he was the first gentleman of his country who ever told a lady she was older than she said she was. actuated probably by a similar feeling, and in the hope of securing to herself the benefit of the doubt, mrs. thrale omitted in the "anecdotes" the year when these verses were addressed to her, and a sharp controversy has been raised as to the respective ages of herself and dr. johnson at the time. it is thus summed up by one of the combatants: "in one place mr. croker says that at the commencement of the intimacy between dr. johnson and mrs. thrale, in , the lady was twenty-five years old. in other places he says that mrs. thrale's thirty-fifth year coincided with johnson's seventieth. johnson was born in . if, therefore, mrs. thrale's thirty-fifth year coincided with johnson's seventieth, she could have been only twenty-one years old in . this is not all. mr. croker, in another place, assigns the year as the date of the complimentary lines which johnson made on mrs. thrale's thirty-fifth birthday. if this date be correct mrs. thrale must have been born in , and could have been only twenty-three when her acquaintance commenced. mr. croker, therefore, gives us three different statements as to her age. two of the three must be incorrect. we will not decide between them."[ ] [footnote : macaulay's essays.] mr. salusbury, referring to a china bowl in his possession, says: "the slip of paper now in it is in my father's handwriting, and copied, i have heard him say, from the original slip, which was worn out by age and fingering. the exact words are, 'in this bason was baptised hester lynch salusbury, th jan. - old style, at bodville in carnarvonshire.'" the incident of the verses is thus narrated in "thraliana": "and this year, [ ], when i told him that it was my birthday, and that i was then thirty-five years old, he repeated me these verses, which i wrote down from his mouth as he made them." if she was born in - , she must have been thirty-six in ; and there is no perfectly satisfactory settlement of the controversy, which many will think derives its sole importance from the two chief controversialists. [footnote : in one of her memorandum books, .] the highest authorities differ equally about her looks. "my readers," says boswell, "will naturally wish for some representation of the figures of this couple. mr. thrale was tall, well-proportioned, and stately. as for _madam_, or _my mistress_, by which epithets johnson used to mention mrs. thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk." "he should have added," observes mr. croker, "that she was very pretty." this was not her own opinion, nor that of her cotemporaries, although her face was attractive from animation and expression, and her personal appearance pleasing on the whole. sometimes, when visiting the author of "piozziana,"[ ] she used to look at her little self, as she called it, and spoke drolly of what she once was, as if speaking of some one else; and one day, turning to him, she exclaimed: "no, i never was handsome: i had always too many strong points in my face for beauty." on his expressing a doubt of this, and hinting that dr. johnson was certainly an admirer of her personal charms, she replied that his devotion was at least as warm towards the table and the table-cloth at streatham. [footnote : "piozziana; or recollections of the late mrs. piozzi, with remarks. by a friend." (the rev. e. mangin.) moxon, . these reminiscences, unluckily limited to the last eight or ten years of her life at bath, contain much curious information, and leave a highly favourable impression of mrs. piozzi.] one day when he was ill, exceedingly low-spirited, and persuaded that death was not far distant, she appeared before him in a dark-coloured gown, which his bad sight, and worse apprehensions, made him mistake for an iron-grey. "'why do you delight,' said he, 'thus to thicken the gloom of misery that surrounds me? is not here sufficient accumulation of horror without anticipated mourning?'--'this is not mourning, sir!' said i, drawing the curtain, that the light might fall upon the silk, and show it was a purple mixed with green.--'well, well!' replied he, changing his voice; 'you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in every way. what! have not all insects gay colours?'" according to the author of "piozziana," who became acquainted with her late in life, "she was short, and though well-proportioned, broad, and deep-chested. her hands were muscular and almost coarse, but her writing was, even in her eightieth year, exquisitely beautiful; and one day, while conversing with her on the subject of education, she observed that 'all misses now-a-days, wrote so like each other, that it was provoking;' adding, 'i love to see individuality of character, and abhor sameness, especially in what is feeble and flimsy.' then, spreading her hand, she said, 'i believe i owe what you are pleased to call my good writing, to the shape of this hand, for my uncle, sir robert cotton, thought it was too manly to be employed in writing like a boarding-school girl; and so i came by my vigorous, black manuscript.'" it was fortunate that the hand-writing compensated for the hands; and as she attached great importance to blood and race, that she did not live to read byron's "thoroughbred and tapering fingers," or to be shocked by his theory that "the hand is almost the only sign of blood which aristocracy can generate." her bath friend appeals to a miniature (engraved for this work) by roche, of bath, taken when she was in her seventy-seventh year. like cromwell, who told the painter that if he softened a harsh line or so much as omitted a wart, he should never be paid a sixpence,--she desired the artist to paint her face deeply rouged, which it always was[ ], and to introduce a trivial deformity of the jaw, produced by a horse treading on her as she lay on the ground after a fall. in this respect she proved superior to johnson; who, with all his love of truth, could not bear to be painted with his defects. he was displeased at being drawn holding a pen close to his eye; and on its being suggested that reynolds had painted himself holding his ear in his hand to catch the sound, he replied: "he may paint himself as deaf as he pleases, but i will not be blinking sam." [footnote : "one day i called early at her house, and as i entered her drawing-room, she passed me, saying, 'dear sir, i will be with you in a few minutes; but, while i think of it, i must go to my dressing-closet and paint my face, which i forgot to do this morning.' accordingly she soon returned, wearing the requisite quantity of bloom; which, it must be noticed, was not in the least like that of youth and beauty. i then said that i was surprised she should so far sacrifice to fashion, as to take that trouble. her answer was that, as i might conclude, her practice of painting did not proceed from any silly compliance with bath fashion, or any fashion; still less, if possible, from the desire of appearing younger than she was, but from this circumstance, that in early life she had worn rouge, as other young persons did in her day, as a part of dress; and after continuing the habit for some years, discovered that it had introduced a dull yellow colour into her complexion, quite unlike that of her natural skin, and that she wished to conceal the deformity."--_piozziana_.] reynolds' portrait of mrs. thrale conveys a highly agreeable impression of her; and so does hogarth's, when she sat to him for the principal figure in "the lady's last stake." she was then only fourteen; and he probably idealised his model; but that he also produced a striking likeness, is obvious on comparing his picture with the professed portraits. the history of this picture (which has been engraved, at lord macaulay's suggestion, for this work) will be found in the autobiography and the letters. boswell's account of his first visit to streatham gives a tolerably fair notion of the footing on which johnson stood there, and the manner in which the interchange of mind was carried on between him and the hostess. this visit took place in october, , four years after johnson's introduction to her; and boswell's absence from london, in which he had no fixed residence during johnson's life, will hardly account for the neglect of his illustrious friend in not procuring him a privilege which he must have highly coveted and would doubtless have turned to good account. "on the th of october i complied with this obliging invitation; and found, at an elegant villa, six miles from town, every circumstance that can make society pleasing. johnson, though quite at home, was yet looked up to with an awe, tempered by affection, and seemed to be equally the care of his host and hostess. i rejoiced at seeing him so happy." "mrs. thrale disputed with him on the merit of prior. he attacked him powerfully; said he wrote of love like a man who had never felt it; his love verses were college verses: and he repeated the song, 'alexis shunn'd his fellow swains,' &c. in so ludicrous a manner, as to make us all wonder how any one could have been pleased with such fantastical stuff. mrs. thrale stood to her guns with great courage, in defence of amorous ditties, which johnson despised, till he at last silenced her by saving, 'my dear lady, talk no more of this. nonsense can be defended but by nonsense.' "mrs. thrale then praised garrick's talents for light gay poetry; and, as a specimen, repeated his song in 'florizel and perdita,' and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line:-- "'i'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.' "_johnson._--'nay, my dear lady, this will never do. poor david! smile with the simple!--what folly is that? and who would feed with the poor that can help it? no, no; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.'" boswell adds, that he repeated this sally to glarrick, and wondered to find his sensibility as a writer not a little irritated by it; on which mrs. thrale remarks, "how odd to go and tell the man!" the independent tone she took when she deemed the doctor unreasonable, is also proved by boswell in his report of what took place at streatham in reference to lord marchmont's offer to supply information for the life of pope: "elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material and respectable aid to johnson for his very favourite work, 'the lives of the poets,' i hastened down to mr. thrale's, at streatham, where he now was, that i might insure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when i thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, i announced it eagerly: 'i have been at work for you to-day, sir. i have been with lord marchmont. he bade me tell you he has a great respect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all he knows about pope.' _johnson._ 'i shall not be in town to-morrow. i don't care to know about pope.' _mrs. thrale_ (surprised, as i was, and a little angry). 'i suppose, sir, mr. boswell thought that as you are to write pope's life, you would wish to know about him.' _johnson._ 'wish! why yes. if it rained knowledge, i'd hold out my hand; but i would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.' there was no arguing with him at the moment. sometime afterwards he said, 'lord marchmont will call upon me, and then i shall call on lord marchmont.' mrs. thrale was uneasy at this unaccountable caprice: and told me, that if i did not take care to bring about a meeting between lord marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity." the ensuing conversation is a good sample of the freedom and variety of "talk" in which johnson luxuriated, and shows how important a part mrs. thrale played in it: "mrs. thrale told us, that a curious clergyman of our acquaintance (dr. lort is named in the margin) had discovered a licentious stanza, which pope had originally in his 'universal prayer,' before the stanza,-- "'what conscience dictates to be done, or warns us not to do,' &c. it was this:-- "'can sins of moment claim the rod of everlasting fires? and that offend great nature's god which nature's self inspires." and that dr. johnson observed, it had been borrowed from _guarini_. there are, indeed, in _pastor fido_, many such flimsy superficial reasonings as that in the last two lines of this stanza. "_boswell_. 'in that stanza of pope's, "_rod of fires_" is certainly a bad metaphor.' _mrs. thrale_. 'and "sins of _moment_" is a faulty expression; for its true import is _momentous_, which cannot be intended.' _johnson_. 'it must have been written "of _moments_." of _moment_, is _momentous_; of _moments, momentary_. i warrant you, however, pope wrote this stanza, and some friend struck it out.' "talking of divorces, i asked if othello's doctrine was not plausible:-- "'he that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all.' dr. johnson and mrs. thrale joined against this. _johnson_. 'ask any man if he'd wish not to know of such an injury.' _boswell_. 'would you tell your friend to make him unhappy?' _johnson_. 'perhaps, sir, i should not: but that would be from prudence on my own account. a man would tell his father.' _boswell_. 'yes; because he would not have spurious children to get any share of the family inheritance.' _mrs. thrale_. 'or he would tell his brother.' _boswell_. 'certainly his _elder_ brother.... would you tell mr. ----?' (naming a gentleman who assuredly was not in the least danger of so miserable a disgrace, though married to a fine woman). _johnson_. 'no, sir: because it would do no good; he is so sluggish, he'd never go to parliament and get through a divorce.'" _marginal note_: "langton." there is every reason to believe that her behaviour to johnson was uniformly marked by good-breeding and delicacy. she treated him with a degree of consideration and respect which he did not always receive from other friends and admirers. a foolish rumour having got into the newspapers that he had been learning to dance of vestris, it was agreed that lord charlemont should ask him if it was true, and his lordship with (it is shrewdly observed) the characteristic spirit of a general of irish volunteers, actually put the question, which provoked a passing feeling of irritation. opposite boswell's account of this incident she has written, "was he not right in hating to be so treated? and would he not have been right to have loved me better than any of them, because i never did make a lyon of him?" one great charm of her companionship to cultivated men was her familiarity with the learned languages, as well as with french, italian, and spanish. the author of "piozziana" says: "she not only read and wrote hebrew, greek, and latin, but had for sixty years constantly and ardently studied the scriptures and the works of commentators in the original languages." she did not know greek, and he probably over-estimated her other acquirements, which boswell certainly underestimates when he speaks slightingly of them on the strength of johnson's having said: "it is a great mistake to suppose that she is above him (thrale) in literary attainments. she is more flippant, but he has ten times her learning: he is a regular scholar; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower forms." if this were so, it is strange that thrale should cut so poor a figure, should seem little better than a nonentity, whilst every imaginable topic was under animated discussion at his table; for boswell was more ready to report the husband's sayings than the wife's. in a marginal note on one of the printed letters she says: "mr. thrale was a very merry talking man in ; but the distress of , which affected his health, his hopes, and his whole soul, affected his temper too. perkins called it being planet struck, and i am not sure he was ever completely the same man again." the notes of his conversation during the antecedent period are equally meagre.[ ] he is described by madame d'arblay as taking a singular amusement in hearing, instigating, and provoking a war of words, alternating triumph and overthrow, between clever and ambitious colloquial combatants. [footnote : "pray, doctor, said a gentleman to johnson, is mr. thrale a man of conversation, or is he only wise and silent?' 'why, sir, his conversation does not show the _minute_ hand; but he generally strikes the hour very correctly.'"--_johnsoniana_.] no one would have expected to find her as much at home in greek and latin authors as a man of fair ability who had received and profited by an university education, but she could appreciate a classical allusion or quotation, and translate off-hand a latin epigram. "mary aston," said johnson, "was a beauty and a scholar, and a wit and a whig; and she talked all in praise of liberty; and so i made this epigram upon her. she was the loveliest creature i ever saw! "'liber ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra maria, ut maneam liber, pulchra maria, vale!' "will it do this way in english, sir? (said mrs. thrale)-- "'persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you, if freedom we seek, fair maria, adieu." mr. croker's version is:-- "'you wish me, fair maria, to be free, then, fair maria, i must fly from thee.' boswell also has tried his hand at it; and a correspondent of the "gentleman's magazine" suggests that johnson had in his mind an epigram on a young lady who appeared at a masquerade in paris, habited as a jesuit, during the height of the contention between the jansenists and molinists concerning free will:-- "on s'étonne ici que calviniste eût pris l'habit de moliniste, puisque que cette jeune beauté Ôte à chacun sa liberté, n'est ce pas une janséniste."[ ] [footnote : "menagiana," vol. iii. p. . edition of . equally happy were lord chesterfield's lines to a young lady who appeared at a dublin ball, with an orange breastknot:-- mrs. thrale took the lead even when her husband might be expected to strike in, as when johnson was declaiming paradoxically against action in oratory: "action can have no effect on reasonable minds. it may augment noise, but it never can enforce argument." _mrs. thrale_. "what then, sir, becomes of demosthenes' saying, action, action, action?" _johnson_. "demosthenes, madam, spoke to an assembly of brutes, to a barbarous people." "the polished athenians!" is her marginal protest, and a conclusive one. in english literature she was rarely at fault. in "pretty tory, where's the jest to wear that riband on thy breast, when that same breast betraying shows the whiteness of the rebel rose?" white was adopted by the malcontent irish as the french emblem. johnson's epigram may have been suggested by propertius: "nullus liber erit si quis amare volet."] reference to the flattery lavished on garrick by lord mansfield and lord chatham, johnson had said, "when he whom everybody else flatters, flatters me, then i am truly happy." _mrs. thrale_. "the sentiment is in congreve, i think." _johnson_. "yes, madam, in 'the way of the world.' "'if there's delight in love, 'tis when i see the heart that others bleed for, bleed for me.'" when johnson is reported saying, "those who have a style of distinguished excellence can always be distinguished," she objects: "it seems not. the lines always quoted as dryden's, beginning, 'to die is landing on some silent shore,' are garth's after all." johnson would have been still less pleased at her discovery that a line in his epitaph on phillips, "till angels wake thee with a note like thine," was imitated from pope's "and saints embrace thee with a love like mine." in one of her letters to him (june, ) she writes: "meantime let us be as _merry_ as reading burton upon _melancholy_ will make us. you bid me study that book in your absence, and now, what have i found? why, i have found, or fancied, that he has been cruelly plundered: that milton's first idea of 'l'allegro' and 'il penseroso' were suggested by the verses at the beginning; that savage's speech of suicide in the 'wanderer' grew up out of a passage you probably remember towards the th page; that swift's tale of the woman that holds water in her mouth, to regain her husband's love by silence, had its source in the same farrago; and that there is an odd similitude between my lord's trick upon sly the tinker, in shakspeare's 'taming of the shrew,' and some stuff i have been reading in burton." it would be easy to heap proof upon proof of the value and variety of mrs. thrale's contributions to the colloquial treasures accumulated by boswell and other members of the set; and johnson's deliberate testimony to her good qualities of head and heart will far more than counterbalance any passing expressions of disapproval or reproof with her mistimed vivacity, or alleged disregard of scrupulous accuracy in narrative, may have called forth. no two people ever lived much together for a series of years without many fretful, complaining, dissatisfied, uncongenial moments,--without letting drop captious or unkind expressions, utterly at variance with their habitual feelings and their matured judgments of each other. the hasty word, the passing sarcasm, the sly hit at an acknowledged foible, should count for nothing in the estimate, when contrasted with earnest and deliberate assurances, proceeding from one who was commonly too proud to flatter, and in no mood for idle compliment when he wrote. "never (he writes in ) imagine that your letters are long; they are always too short for my curiosity. i do not know that i was ever content with a single perusal.... my nights are grown again very uneasy and troublesome. i know not that the country will mend them; but i hope your company will mend my days. though i cannot now expect much attention, and would not wish for more than can be spared from the poor dear lady (her mother), yet i shall see you and hear you every now and then; and to see and hear you, is always to hear wit, and to see virtue." he would not suffer her to be lightly spoken of in his presence, nor permit his name to be coupled jocularly with hers. "i yesterday told him," says boswell, when they were traversing the highlands, "i was thinking of writing a poetical letter to him, on his return from scotland, in the style of swift's humorous epistle in the character of mary gulliver to her husband, captain lemuel gulliver, on his return to england from the country of the houyhnhnms:-- "'at early morn i to the market haste, studious in ev'ry thing to please thy taste. a curious _fowl_ and _sparagrass_ i chose; (for i remember you were fond of those:) three shillings cost the first, the last seven groats; sullen you turn from both, and call for oats.' he laughed, and asked in whose name i would write it. i said in mrs. thrale's. he was angry. 'sir, if you have any sense of decency or delicacy, you won't do that.' _boswell_. 'then let it be in cole's, the landlord of the mitre tavern, where we have so often sat together.' _johnson_. 'ay, that may do.'" again, at inverary, when johnson called for a gill of whiskey that he might know what makes a scotchman happy, and boswell proposed mrs. thrale as their toast, he would not have _her_ drunk in whiskey. peter pindar has maliciously added to this reproof:-- "we supped most royally, were vastly frisky, when johnson ordered up a gill of whiskey. taking the glass, says i, 'here's mistress thrale,' 'drink her in _whiskey_ not,' said he, 'but _ale_.'" so far from making light of her scholarship, he frequently accepted her as a partner in translations from the latin. the translations from boethius, printed in the second volume of the letters, are their joint composition. after recapitulating johnson's other contributions to literature in , boswell says, "'the fountains,' a beautiful little fairy tale in prose, written with exquisite simplicity, is one of johnson's productions; and i cannot withhold from mrs. thrale the praise of being the author of that admirable poem 'the three warnings.'" _marginal note_: "how sorry he is!" both the tale and the poem were written for a collection of "miscellanies," published by mrs. williams in that year. the character of floretta in "the fountains" was intended for mrs. thrale, and she thus gracefully alludes to it in a letter to johnson in feb. : "the newspapers would spoil my few comforts that are left if they could; but you tell me that's only because i have the reputation, whether true or false, of being a _wit_ forsooth; and you remember _poor floretta_, who was teased into wishing away her spirit, her beauty, her fortune, and at last even her life, never could bear the bitter water which was to have washed away her wit; which she resolved to keep with all its consequences." her fugitive pieces, mostly in verse, thrown off from time to time at all periods of her life, are numerous; and the best of them that have been recovered will be included in these volumes. in a letter to the author of "piozziana," she says:--"when wilkes and liberty were at their highest tide, i was bringing or losing children every year; and my studies were confined to my nursery; so, it came into my head one day to send an infant alphabet to the 'st. james chronicle':-- "'a was an alderman, factious and proud; b was a bellas that blustered aloud, &c.' "in a week's time dr. johnson asked me if i knew who wrote it? 'why, who did write it, sir?' said i. 'steevens,' was the reply. some time after that, years for aught i know, he mentioned to me steevens's veracity! 'no, no;' answered h.l.p., anything but that;' and told my story; showing him by incontestable proofs that it was mine. johnson did not utter a word, and we never talked about it any more. i durst not introduce the subject; but it served to hinder s. from visiting at the house: i suppose johnson kept him away." it does not appear that steevens claimed the alphabet; which may have suggested the celebrated squib that appeared in the "new whig guide," and was popularly attributed to mr. croker. it was headed "the political alphabet; or, the young member's a b c," and begins: "a was an althorpe, as dull as a hog: b was black brougham, a surly cur dog: c was a cochrane, all stripped of his lace." what widely different associations are now awakened by these names! the sting is in the tail: "w was a warre, 'twixt a wasp and a worm, but x y and z are not found in this form, unless moore, martin, and creevey be said (as the last of mankind) to be x y and z." amongst miss reynolds' "recollections" will be found:--"on the praises of mrs. thrale, he (johnson) used to dwell with a peculiar delight, a paternal fondness, expressive of conscious exultation in being so intimately acquainted with her. one day, in speaking of her to mr. harris, author of 'hermes,' and expatiating on her various perfections,--the solidity of her virtues, the brilliancy of her wit, and the strength of her understanding, &c.--he quoted some lines (a stanza, i believe, but from what author i know not[ ]), with which he concluded his most eloquent eulogium, and of these i retained but the two last lines:-- 'virtues--of such a generous kind, pure in the last recesses of the mind.'" [footnote : dryden's translation of persius.] the place assigned to mrs. thrale by the popular voice amongst the most cultivated and accomplished women of the day, is fixed by some verses printed in the "morning herald" of march th, , which attracted much attention. they were commonly attributed to mr. (afterwards sir w.w.) pepys, and madame d'arblay, who alludes to them complacently, thought them his; but he subsequently repudiated the authorship, and the editor of her memoirs believes that they were written by dr. burney. they were provoked by the proneness of the herald to indulge in complimentary allusions to ladies of the demirep genus: "herald, wherefore thus proclaim nought of women but the _shame_? quit, oh, quit, at least awhile, perdita's too luscious smile; wanton worsley, stilted daly, heroines of each blackguard alley; better sure record in story such as shine their sex's glory! herald! haste, with me proclaim those of literary fame. hannah more's pathetic pen, painting high th' impassion'd scene; carter's piety and learning, little burney's quick discerning; cowley's neatly pointed wit, healing those her satires hit; smiling streatfield's iv'ry neck, nose, and notions--_à la grecque!_ let chapone retain a place, and the mother of her grace[ ], each art of conversation knowing, high-bred, elegant boscawen; thrale, in whose expressive eyes sits a soul above disguise, skill'd with-wit and sense t'impart feelings of a generous heart. lucan, leveson, greville, crewe; fertile-minded montagu, who makes each rising art her care, 'and brings her knowledge from afar!' whilst her tuneful tongue defends authors dead, and absent friends; bright in genius, pure in fame:-- herald, haste, and these proclaim!" [footnote : mrs. boscawen was the mother of the duchess of beaufort and mrs. leveson gower: "all leveson's sweetness, and all beaufort's grace."] these lines merit attention for the sake of the comparison they invite. an outcry has recently been raised against the laxity of modern fashion, in permitting venal beauty to receive open homage in our parks and theatres, and to be made the subject of prurient gossip by maids and matrons who should ignore its existence. but we need not look far beneath the surface of social history to discover that the irregularity in question is only a partial revival of the practice of our grandfathers and grandmothers, much as a crinoline may be regarded as a modified reproduction of the hoop. junius thus denounces the duke of grafton's indecorous devotion to nancy parsons: "it is not the private indulgence, but the public insult, of which i complain. the name of miss parsons would hardly have been known, if the first lord of the treasury had not led her in triumph through the opera house, even in the presence of the queen." lord march (afterwards duke of queensberry) was a lord of the bedchamber in the decorous court of george the third, when he wrote thus to selwyn: "i was prevented from writing to you last friday, by being at newmarket with my little girl (signora zamperini, a noted dancer and singer). i had the whole family and cocchi. the beauty went with me in my chaise, and the rest in the old landau." we have had boswell's impression of his first visit to streatham; and madame d'arblay's account of hers confirms the notion that my mistress, not my master, was the presiding genius of the place. "_london, august_ ( ).--i have now to write an account of the most consequential day i have spent since my birth: namely, my streatham visit. "our journey to streatham was the least pleasant part of the day, for the roads were dreadfully dusty, and i was really in the fidgets from thinking what my reception might be, and from fearing they would expect a less awkward and backward kind of person than i was sure they would find. "mr. thrale's house is white, and very pleasantly situated, in a fine paddock. mrs. thrale was strolling about, and came to us as we got out of the chaise. "she then received me, taking both my hands, and with mixed politeness and cordiality welcomed me to streatham. she led me into the house, and addressed herself almost wholly for a few minutes to my father, as if to give me an assurance she did not mean to regard me as a show, or to distress or frighten me by drawing me out. afterwards she took me up stairs, and showed me the house, and said she had very much wished to see me at streatham, and should always think herself much obliged to dr. burney for his goodness in bringing me, which she looked upon as a very great favour. "but though we were some time together, and though she was so very civil, she did not _hint_ at my book, and i love her much more than ever for her delicacy in avoiding a subject which she could not but see would have greatly embarrassed me. "when we returned to the music-room, we found miss thrale was with my father. miss thrale is a very fine girl, about fourteen years of age, but cold and reserved, though full of knowledge and intelligence. "soon after, mrs. thrale took me to the library; she talked a little while upon common topics, and then, at last, she mentioned 'evelina.' "i now prevailed upon mrs. thrale to let me amuse myself, and she went to dress. i then prowled about to choose some book, and i saw, upon the reading-table, 'evelina.' i had just fixed upon a new translation of cicero's 'lælius,' when the library door was opened, and mr. seward entered. i instantly put away my book, because i dreaded being thought studious and affected. he offered his service to find anything for me, and then, in the same breath, ran on to speak of the book with which i had myself 'favoured the world!' "the exact words he began with i cannot recollect, for i was actually confounded by the attack; and his abrupt manner of letting me know he was _au fait_ equally astonished and provoked me. how different from the delicacy of mr. and mrs. thrale!" a high french authority has laid down that good breeding consists in rendering to all what is socially their due. this definition is imperfect. good breeding is best displayed by putting people at their ease; and mrs. thrale's manner of putting the young authoress at her ease was the perfection of delicacy and tact. if johnson's entrance on the stage had been premeditated, it could hardly have been more dramatically ordered. "when we were summoned to dinner, mrs. thrale made my father and me sit on each side of her. i said that i hoped i did not take dr. johnson's place;--for he had not yet appeared. "'no,' answered mrs. thrale, 'he will sit by you, which i am sure will give him great pleasure.' "soon after we were seated, this great man entered. i have so true a veneration for him, that the very sight of him inspires me with delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmities to which he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsive movements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and sometimes of all together. "mrs. thrale introduced me to him, and he took his place. we had a noble dinner, and a most elegant dessert. dr. johnson, in the middle of dinner, asked mrs. thrale what was in some little pies that were near him. "'mutton,' answered she, 'so i don't ask you to eat any, because i know you despise it.' "'no, madam, no,' cried he: 'i despise nothing that is good of its sort; but i am too proud now to eat of it. sitting by miss burney makes me very proud to-day!' "'miss burney,' said mrs. thrale, laughing, 'you must take great care of your heart if dr. johnson attacks it; for i assure you he is not often successless.' "'what's that you say, madam?' cried he; 'are you making mischief between the young lady and me already?' "a little while after he drank miss thrale's health and mine, and then added: "'tis a terrible thing that we cannot wish young ladies well, without wishing them to become old women.'" madame d'arblay's memoirs are sadly defaced by egotism, and gratified vanity may have had a good deal to do with her unqualified admiration of mrs. thrale; for "evelina" (recently published) was the unceasing topic of exaggerated eulogy during the entire visit. still so acute an observer could not be essentially wrong in an account of her reception, which is in the highest degree favourable to her newly acquired friend. of her second visit she says: "our journey was charming. the kind mrs. thrale would give courage to the most timid. she did not ask me questions, or catechise me upon what i knew, or use any means to draw me out, but made it her business to draw herself out--that is, to start subjects, to support them herself, and take all the weight of the conversation, as if it behoved her to find me entertainment. but i am so much in love with her, that i shall be obliged to run away from the subject, or shall write of nothing else. "when we arrived here, mrs. thrale showed me my room, which is an exceeding pleasant one, and then conducted me to the library, there to divert myself while she dressed. "miss thrale soon joined me: and i begin to like her. mr. thrale was neither well nor in spirits all day. indeed, he seems not to be a happy man, though he has every means of happiness in his power. but i think i have rarely seen a very rich man with a light heart and light spirits." the concluding remark, coming from such a source, may supply an improving subject of meditation or inquiry; if found true, it may help to suppress envy and promote contentment. thrale's state of health, however, accounts for his depression independently of his wealth, which rested on too precarious a foundation to allow of unbroken confidence and gaiety. "at tea (continues the diarist) we all met again, and dr. johnson was gaily sociable. he gave a very droll account of the children of mr. langton-- "'who,' he said, 'might be very good children if they were let alone; but the father is never easy when he is not making them do something which they cannot do; they must repeat a fable, or a speech, or the hebrew alphabet; and they might as well count twenty, for what they know of the matter: however, the father says half, for he prompts every other word. but he could not have chosen a man who would have been less entertained by such means.' "'i believe not!' cried mrs. thrale: 'nothing is more ridiculous than parents cramming their children's nonsense down other people's throats. i keep mine as much out of the way as i can.' "'yours, madam,' answered he, 'are in nobody's way; no children can be better managed or less troublesome; but your fault is, a too great perverseness in not allowing anybody to give them anything. why should they not have a cherry, or a gooseberry, as well as bigger children?' "indeed, the freedom with which dr. johnson condemns whatever he disapproves, is astonishing; and the strength of words he uses would, to most people, be intolerable; but mrs. thrale seems to have a sweetness of disposition that equals all her other excellences, and far from making a point of vindicating herself, she generally receives his admonitions with the most respectful silence." but it must not be supposed that this was done without an effort. when boswell speaks of johnson's "accelerating her pulsation," she adds, "he checked it often enough, to be sure." another of the conversations which occurred during this visit is characteristic of all parties: "we had been talking of colours, and of the fantastic names given to them, and why the palest lilac should be called a _soupir étouffé_. "'why, madam,' said he, with wonderful readiness, 'it is called a stifled sigh because it is checked in its progress, and only half a colour.' "i could not help expressing my amazement at his universal readiness upon all subjects, and mrs. thrale said to him, "'sir, miss burney wonders at your patience with such stuff; but i tell her you are used to me, for i believe i torment you with more foolish questions than anybody else dares do.' "'no, madam,' said he, 'you don't torment me;--you teaze me, indeed, sometimes.' "'ay, so i do, dr. johnson, and i wonder you bear with my nonsense.' "'no, madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense, and more wit, than any woman i know!' "'oh,' cried mrs. thrale, blushing, 'it is my turn to go under the table this morning, miss burney!' "'and yet,' continued the doctor, with the most comical look, 'i have known all the wits, from mrs. montagu down to bet flint!' "'bet flint,' cried mrs. thrale; 'pray who is she?' "'oh, a fine character, madam! she was habitually a slut and a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.' "'and, for heaven's sake, how came you to know her?' "'why, madam, she figured in the literary world, too! bet flint wrote her own life, and called herself cassandra, and it was in verse. so bet brought me her verses to correct; but i gave her a half-a-crown, and she liked it as well.' "'and pray what became of her, sir?' "'why, madam, she stole a quilt from the man of the house, and he had her taken up: but bet flint had a spirit not to be subdued; so when she found herself obliged to go to jail, she ordered a sedan chair, and bid her footboy walk before her. however, the boy proved refractory, for he was ashamed, though his mistress was not.' "'and did she ever get out of jail again, sir?' "'yes, madam; when she came to her trial, the judge acquitted her. "so now," she said to me, "the quilt is my own, and now i'll make a petticoat of it."[ ] oh, i loved bet flint!' "bless me, sir!' cried mrs. thrale, 'how can all these vagabonds contrive to get at _you_, of all people?' "'oh the dear creatures!' cried he, laughing heartily, 'i can't but be glad to see them!'" [footnote : this story is told by boswell, roy. vo, edit. p. .] madame d'arblay's notes (in her diary) of the conversation and mode of life at streatham are full and spirited, and exhibit johnson in moods and situations in which he was seldom seen by boswell. the adroitness with which he divided his attentions amongst the ladies, blending approval with instruction, and softening contradiction or reproof by gallantry, gives plausibility to his otherwise paradoxical claim to be considered a polite man.[ ] he obviously knew how to set about it, and (theoretically at least) was no mean proficient in that art of pleasing which attracts "rather by deference than compliment, and wins e'en by a delicate dissent." [footnote : "when the company were retired, we happened to be talking of dr. barnard, the provost of eton, who died about that time; and after a long and just eulogium on his wit, his learning, and goodness of heart--'he was the only man, too,' says mr. johnson, quite seriously, 'that did justice to my good breeding; and you may observe that i am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. no man,' continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, 'no man is so cautious not to interrupt another; no man thinks it so necessary to appear attentive when others are speaking; no man so steadily refuses preference to himself, or so willingly bestows it on another, as i do; nobody holds so strongly as i do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of it: yet people think me rude; but barnard did me justice.'"--_anecdotes_. "i think myself a very polite man,"--_boswell_. .] sir henry bulwer (in his "france") says that louis the fourteenth was entitled to be called a man of genius, if only from the delicate beauty of his compliments. mrs. thrale awards the palm of excellence in the same path to johnson. "your compliments, sir, are made seldom, but when they are made, they have an elegance unequalled; but then, when you are angry, who dares make speeches so bitter and so cruel?" "i am sure," she adds, after a semblance of defence on his part, "i have had my share of scolding from you." _johnson_. "it is true, you have, but you have borne it like an angel, and you have been the better for it." as the discussion proceeds, he accuses her of often provoking him to say severe things by unreasonable commendation; a common mode of acquiring a character for amiability at the expense of one's intimates, who are made to appear uncharitable by being thus constantly placed on the depreciating side. some years prior to this period ( ) mrs. thrale's mind and character had undergone a succession of the most trying ordeals, and was tempered and improved, without being hardened, by them. in allusion to what she suffered in child-bearing, she said later in life that she had nine times undergone the sentence of a convict,--confinement with hard labour. child after child died at the age when the bereavement is most affecting to a mother. her husband's health kept her in a constant state of apprehension for his life, and his affairs became embarrassed to the very verge of bankruptcy. so long as they remained prosperous, he insisted on her not meddling with them in any way, and even required her to keep to her drawing-room and leave the conduct of their domestic establishment to the butler and housekeeper. but when (from circumstances detailed in the "autobiography") his fortune was seriously endangered, he wisely and gladly availed himself of her prudence and energy, and was saved by so doing. i have now before me a collection of autograph letters from her to mr. perkins, then manager and afterwards one of the proprietors of the brewery, from which it appears that she paid the most minute attention to the business, besides undertaking the superintendence of her own hereditary estate in wales. on september , , she writes to mr. perkins, who was on a commercial journey:-- "mr. thrale is still upon his little tour; i opened a letter from you at the counting-house this morning, and am sorry to find you have so much trouble with grant and his affairs. how glad i shall be to hear that matter is settled at all to your satisfaction. his letter and remittance came while i was there to-day.... careless, of the 'blue posts,' has turned refractory, and applied to hoare's people, who have sent him in their beer. i called on him to-day, however, and by dint of an unwearied solicitation, (for i kept him at the coach side a full half-hour) i got his order for six butts more as the final trial." examples of fine ladies pressing tradesmen for their votes with compromising importunity are far from rare, but it would be difficult to find a parallel for johnson's hetty doing duty as a commercial traveller. she was simultaneously obliged to anticipate the electioneering exploits of the duchess of devonshire and mrs. crewe; and in after life, having occasion to pass through southwark, she expresses her astonishment at no longer recognising a place, every hole and corner of which she had three times visited as a canvasser. after the death of mr. thrale, a friend of mr. h. thornton canvassed the borough on behalf of that gentleman. he waited on mrs. thrale, who promised her support. she concluded her obliging expressions by saying:--"i wish your friend success, and i think he will have it: he may probably come in for two parliaments, but if he tries for a third, were he an angel from heaven, the people of southwark would cry, 'not _this_ man, but barabbas.'"[ ] [footnote : miss laetitia matilda hawkins vouches for this story.--"memoir, &c." vol. i. p. , note, where she adds:--"i have heard it said, that into whatever company she (mrs. t.) fell, she could be the most agreeable person in it."] on one of her canvassing expeditions, johnson accompanied her, and a rough fellow, a hatter by trade, seeing the moralist's hat in a state of decay, seized it suddenly with one hand, and clapping him on the back with the other, cried out, "ah, master johnson, this is no time to be thinking about hats." "no, no, sir," replied the doctor, "hats are of no use now, as you say, except to throw up in the air and huzzah with;" accompanying his words with the true election halloo. thrale had serious thoughts of repaying johnson's electioneering aid in kind, by bringing him into parliament. sir john hawkins says that thrale had two meetings with the minister (lord north), who at first seemed inclined to find johnson a seat, but eventually discountenanced the project. lord stowell told mr. croker that lord north did not feel quite sure that johnson's support might not sometimes prove rather an incumbrance than a help. "his lordship perhaps thought, and not unreasonably, that, like the elephant in the battle, he was quite as likely to trample down his friends as his foes." flood doubted whether johnson, being long used to sententious brevity and the short flights of conversation, would have succeeded in the expanded kind of argument required in public speaking. burke's opinion was, that if he had come early into parliament, he would have been the greatest speaker ever known in it. upon being told this by reynolds, he exclaimed, "i should like to try my hand now." on boswell's adding that he wished he _had_, mrs. thrale writes: "boswell had leisure for curiosity: ministers had not. boswell would have been equally amused by his failure as by his success; but to lord north there would have been no joke at all in the experiment ending untowardly." he was equally ready with advice and encouragement during the difficulties connected with the brewery. he was not of opinion with aristotle and parson adams, that trade is below a philosopher[ ]; and he eagerly buried himself in computing the cost of the malt and the possible profits on the ale. in october , he writes from lichfield: [footnote : "trade, answered adams, is below a philosopher, as aristotle proves in his first chapter of 'politics,' and unnatural, as it is managed now."--_joseph andrews_.] "do not suffer little things to disturb you. the brew-house must be the scene of action, and the subject of speculation. the first consequence of our late trouble ought to be, an endeavour to brew at a cheaper rate; an endeavour not violent and transient, but steady and continual, prosecuted with total contempt of censure or wonder, and animated by resolution not to stop while more can be done. unless this can be done, nothing can help us; and if this be done, we shall not want help. surely there is something to be saved; there is to be saved whatever is the difference between vigilance and neglect, between parsimony and profusion. the price of malt has risen again. it is now two pounds eight shillings the quarter. ale is sold in the public-houses at sixpence a quart, a price which i never heard of before." in november of the same year, from ashbourne: "dear madam,--so many days and never a letter!--_fugere fides, pietasque pudorque_. this is turkish usage. and i have been hoping and hoping. but you are so glad to have me out of your mind.[ ] "i think you were quite right in your advice about the thousand pounds, for the payment could not have been delayed long; and a short delay would have lessened credit, without advancing interest. but in great matters you are hardly ever mistaken." [footnote : this tone of playful reproach, when adopted by johnson at a later period, has been cited as a proof of actual ill-treatment.] in may , : "why should mr. t---- suppose, that what i took the liberty of suggesting was concerted with you? he does not know how much i revolve his affairs, and how honestly i desire his prosperity. i hope he has let the hint take some hold of his mind." in the copy of the printed letters presented by mrs. thrale to sir james fellowes, the blank is filled up with the name of thrale, and the passage is thus annotated in her handwriting: "concerning his (thrale's) connection with quack chemists, quacks of all sorts; jumping up in the night to go to marlbro' street from southwark, after some advertising mountebank, at hazard of his life," in "thraliana": " _th july_, .--mr. thrale overbrewed himself last winter and made an artificial scarcity of money in the family which has extremely lowered his spirits. mr. johnson endeavoured last night, and so did i, to make him promise that he would never more brew a larger quantity of beer in one winter than , barrels[ ], but my master, mad with the noble ambition of emulating whitbread and calvert, two fellows that he despises,--could scarcely be prevailed on to promise even _this_, that he will not brew more than four score thousand barrels a year for five years to come. he did promise that much, however; and so johnson bade me write it down in the 'thraliana';--and so the wings of speculation are clipped a little--very fain would i have pinioned her, but i had not strength to perform the operation." [footnote : "if he got but _s._ _d._ by each barrel, , half crowns are £ , ; and what more would mortal man desire than an income of ten thousand a year--five to spend, and five to lay up?"] that johnson's advice was neither thrown away nor undervalued, may be inferred from an incident related by boswell. mr. perkins had hung up in the counting-house a fine proof of the mezzotinto of dr. johnson by doughty; and when mrs. thrale asked him, somewhat flippantly, "why do you put him up in the counting-house?" mr. perkins answered, "because, madam, i wish to have one wise man there." "sir," said johnson, "i thank you. it is a very handsome compliment, and i believe you speak sincerely." he was in the habit of paying the most minute attention to every branch of domestic economy, and his suggestions are invariably marked by shrewdness and good sense. thus when mrs. thrale was giving evening parties, he told her that though few people might be hungry after a late dinner, she should always have a good supply of cakes and sweetmeats on a side table, and that some cold meat and a bottle of wine would often be found acceptable. notwithstanding the imperfection of his eyesight, and his own slovenliness, he was a critical observer of dress and demeanour, and found fault without ceremony or compunction when any of his canons of taste or propriety were infringed. several amusing examples are enumerated by mrs. thrale: "i commended a young lady for her beauty and pretty behaviour one day, however, to whom i thought no objections could have been made. 'i saw her,' said dr. johnson, 'take a pair of scissors in her left hand though; and for all her father is now become a nobleman, and as you say excessively rich, i should, were i a youth of quality ten years hence, hesitate between a girl so neglected, and a _negro_.' "it was indeed astonishing how he _could_ remark such minuteness with a sight so miserably imperfect; but no accidental position of a riband escaped him, so nice was his observation, and so rigorous his demands of propriety. when i went with him to litchfield, and came downstairs to breakfast at the inn, my dress did not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before he would stir a step with us about the town, saying most satirical things concerning the appearance i made in a riding-habit; and adding, ''tis very strange that such eyes as yours cannot discern propriety of dress: if i had a sight only half as good, i think i should see to the centre.' "another lady, whose accomplishments he never denied, came to our house one day covered with diamonds, feathers, &c., and he did not seem inclined to chat with her as usual. i asked him why? when the company was gone. 'why, her head looked so like that of a woman who shows puppets,' said he, 'and her voice so confirmed the fancy, that i could not bear her to-day; when she wears a large cap, i can talk to her.' "when the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes, he expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in these terms: 'a brussels trimming is like bread-sauce,' said he, 'it takes away the glow of colour from the gown, and gives you nothing instead of it; but sauce was invented to heighten the flavour of our food, and trimming is an ornament to the manteau, or it is nothing. learn,' said he, 'that there is propriety or impropriety in every thing how slight soever, and get at the general principles of dress and of behaviour; if you then transgress them, you will at least know that they are not observed.'" madame d'arblay confirms this account. he had just been finding fault with a bandeau worn by lady lade, a very large woman, standing six feet high without her shoes: "_dr. j._--the truth is, women, take them in general, have no idea of grace. fashion is all they think of. i don't mean mrs. thrale and miss burney, when i talk of women!--they are goddesses!--and therefore i except them. "_mrs. thrale._--lady lade never wore the bandeau, and said she never would, because it is unbecoming. "_dr. j. (laughing.)_--did not she? then is lady lade a charming woman, and i have yet hopes of entering into engagements with her! "_mrs. t._--well, as to that i can't say; but to be sure, the only similitude i have yet discovered in you, is in size: there you agree mighty well. "_dr. j._--why, if anybody could have worn the bandeau, it must have been lady lade; for there is enough of her to carry it off; but you are too little for anything ridiculous; that which seems nothing upon a patagonian, will become very conspicuous upon a lilliputian, and of you there is so little in all, that one single absurdity would swallow up half of you." matrimony was one of his favourite subjects, and he was fond of laying down and refining on the duties of the married state, with the amount of happiness and comfort to be found in it. but once when he was musing over the fire in the drawing-room at streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, "mr. johnson, would you advise me to marry?" "i would advise no man to marry, sir," replied the doctor in a very angry tone, "who is not likely to propagate understanding;" and so left the room. "our companion," adds mrs. thrale, in the "anecdotes," "looked confounded, and i believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when johnson came back, and, drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its consequences." the young gentleman was mr. thrale's nephew, sir john lade; who was proposed, half in earnest, whilst still a minor, by the doctor as a fitting mate for the author of "evelina." he married a woman of the town, became a celebrated member of the four-in-hand club, and contrived to waste the whole of a fine fortune before he died. in "thraliana" she says:--"lady lade consulted him about her son, sir john. 'endeavour, madam,' said he, 'to procure him knowledge; for really ignorance to a rich man is like fat to a sick sheep, it only serves to call the rooks about him.' on the same occasion it was that he observed how a mind unfurnished with subjects and materials for thinking can keep up no dignity at all in solitude. 'it is,' says he, 'in the state of a mill without grist.'" the attractions of streatham must have been very strong, to induce johnson to pass so much of his time away from "the busy hum of men" in fleet street, and "the full tide of human existence" at charing cross. he often found fault with mrs. thrale for living so much in the country, "feeding the chickens till she starved her understanding." walking in a wood when it rained, she tells us, "was the only rural image he pleased his fancy with; for he would say, after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, one wishes them well baked, and removed to a london eating-house for enjoyment." this is almost as bad as the foreigner, who complained that there was no ripe fruit in england but the roasted apples. amongst other modes of passing time in the country, johnson once or twice tried hunting and, mounted on an old horse of mr. thrale's, acquitted himself to the surprise of the "field," one of whom delighted him by exclaiming, "why johnson rides as well, for ought i see, as the most illiterate fellow in england." but a trial or two satisfied him-- "he thought at heart like courtly chesterfield, who after a long chase o'er hills, dales, fields, and what not, though he rode beyond all price, ask'd next day,'if men ever hunted twice?'" it is very strange, and very melancholy, was his reflection, that the paucity of human pleasures should persuade us ever to call hunting one of them. the mode of locomotion in which he delighted was the vehicular. as he was driving rapidly in a postchaise with boswell, he exclaimed, "life has not many things better than this." on their way from dr. taylor's to derby in , he said, "if i had no duties, and no reference to futurity, i would spend my life in driving briskly in a postchaise with a pretty woman, but she should be one who could understand me, and would add something to the conversation." mr. croker attributes his enjoyment to the novelty of the pleasure; his poverty having in early life prevented him from travelling post. but a better reason is given by mrs. thrale: "i asked him why he doated on a coach so? and received for answer, that in the first place, the company were shut in with him _there_; and could not escape, as out of a room; in the next place, he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be deaf; and very impatient was he at my occasional difficulty of hearing. on this account he wished to travel all over the world: for the very act of going forward was delightful to him, and he gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said never happened; nor did the running-away of the horses at the edge of a precipice between vernon and st. denys in france convince him to the contrary: 'for nothing came of it,' he said, 'except that mr. thrale leaped out of the carriage into a chalk-pit, and then came up again, looking as _white_!' when the truth was, all their lives were saved by the greatest providence ever exerted in favour of three human creatures: and the part mr. thrale took from desperation was the likeliest thing in the world to produce broken limbs and death." the drawbacks on his gratification and on that of his fellow travellers were his physical defects, and his utter insensibility to the beauty of nature, as well as to the fine arts, in so far as they were addressed to the senses of sight and hearing. "he delighted," says mrs. thrale, "no more in music than painting; he was almost as deaf as he was blind; travelling with dr. johnson was, for these reasons, tiresome enough. mr. thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, that travelling through england and france affords a man. but when he wished to point them out to his companion: 'never heed such nonsense,' would be the reply: 'a blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another: let us, if we _do_ talk, talk about something; men and women are my subjects of inquiry; let us see how these differ from those we have left behind." it is no small deduction from our admiration of johnson, and no trifling enhancement of his friends' kindness in tolerating his eccentricities, that he seldom made allowance for his own palpable and undeniable deficiencies. as well might a blind man deny the existence of colours, as a purblind man assert that there was no charm in a prospect, or in a claude or titian, because he could see none. once, by way of pleasing reynolds, he pretended to lament that the great painter's genius was not exerted on stuff more durable than canvas, and suggested copper. sir joshua urged the difficulty of procuring plates large enough for historical subjects. "what foppish obstacles are these!" exclaimed johnson. "here is thrale has a thousand ton of copper: you may paint it all round if you will, i suppose; it will serve him to brew in afterwards. will it not, sir?" (to thrale, who sate by.) he always "civilised" to dr. burney, who has supplied the following anecdote: "after having talked slightingly of music, he was observed to listen very attentively while miss thrale played on the harpsichord; and with eagerness he called to her, 'why don't you dash away like burney?' dr. burney upon this said to him, 'i believe, sir, we shall make a musician of you at last.' johnson with candid complacency replied, 'sir, i shall be glad to have a new sense given to me.'" in , the thrales made a tour in wales, mainly for the purpose of revisiting her birthplace and estates. they were accompanied by johnson, who kept a diary of the expedition, beginning july th and ending september th. it was preserved by his negro servant, and boswell had no suspicion of its existence, for he says, "i do not find that he kept any journal or notes of what he saw there." the diary was first published by mr. duppa in ; and some manuscript notes by mrs. thrale which reached that gentleman too late for insertion, have been added in mr. murray's recent edition of the life. the first entry is: "_tuesday, july _.--we left streatham a.m. price of four horses two shillings a mile. barnet . p.m. on the road i read 'tully's epistles.' at night at dunstable." at chester, he records:--"we walked round the walls, which are complete, and contain one mile, three quarters, and one hundred and one yards." mrs. thrale's comment is, "of those ill-fated walls dr. johnson might have learned the extent from any one. he has since put me fairly out of countenance by saying, 'i have known _my mistress_ fifteen years, and never saw her fairly out of humour but on chester wall.' it was because he would keep miss thrale beyond her hour of going to bed to walk on the wall, where from the want of light, i apprehended some accident to her, perhaps to him." he thus describes mrs. thrale's family mansion: "_saturday, july ._--we went to bâch y graig, where we found an old house, built , in an uncommon and incommodious form--my mistress chatted about tiring, but i prevailed on her to go to the top--the floors have been stolen: the windows are stopped--the house was less than i seemed to expect--the river clwyd is a brook with a bridge of one arch, about one third of a mile--the woods have many trees, generally young; but some which seem to decay--they have been lopped--the house never had a garden--the addition of another story would make an useful house, but it cannot be great." on the th august, they visited rhuddlan castle and bodryddan[ ], of which he says:-- [footnote : now the property of mr. shipley conway, the great-grandson of johnson's acquaintance, the bishop of st. asaph, and representative, through females, of sir john conway or conwy, to whom rhuddlan castle, with its domain, was granted by edward the first.] "stapylton's house is pretty: there are pleasing shades about it, with a constant spring that supplies a cold bath. we then went out to see a cascade. i trudged unwillingly, and was not sorry to find it dry. the water was, however, turned on, and produced a very striking cataract."[ ] [footnote : bowles, the poet, on the unexpected arrival of a party to see his grounds, was overheard giving a hurried order to set the fountain playing and carry the hermit his beard.] mrs. piozzi remarks on this passage: "he teased mrs. cotton about her dry cascade till she was ready to cry." mrs. cotton, _née_ stapylton, married the eldest son of sir lynch cotton, and was the mother of field-marshal viscount combermere. she said that johnson, despite of his rudeness, was at times delightful, having a manner peculiar to himself in relating anecdotes that could not fail to attract both old and young. her impression was that mrs. thrale was very vexatious in wishing to engross all his attention, which annoyed him much. this, i fancy, is no uncommon impression, when we ourselves are anxious to attract notice. the range of hills bordering the valley or delta of the clwyd, is very fine. on their being pointed out to him by his host, he exclaimed: "hills, do you call them?--mere mole-hills to the alps or to those in scotland." on being told that sir richard clough had formed a plan for making the river navigable to rhyddlan, he broke out into a loud fit of laughter, and shouted--"why, sir, i could clear any part of it by a leap." he probably had seen neither the hills nor the river, which might easily be made navigable. on two occasions, johnson incidentally imputes a want of liberality to mrs. thrale, which the general tenor of her conduct belies: "_august ._--we went to dymerchion church, where the old clerk acknowledged his mistress. it is the parish church of bâch y graig; a mean fabric; mr. salusbury (mrs. thrale's father) was buried in it.... the old clerk had great appearance of joy, and foolishly said that he was now willing to die. he had only a crown given him by my mistress." "_august ._--mrs. thrale lost her purse. she expressed so much uneasiness that i concluded the sum to be very great; but when i heard of only seven guineas, i was glad to find she had so much sensibility of money." johnson might have remarked, that the annoyance we experience from a loss is seldom entirely regulated by the pecuniary value of the thing lost. on the way to holywell he sets down: "talk with mistress about flattery;" on which she notes: "he said i flattered the people to whose houses we went: i was saucy and said i was obliged to be civil for two, meaning himself and me.[ ] he replied nobody would thank me for compliments they did not understand. at gwanynog (mr. middleton's), however, _he_ was flattered, and was happy of course." [footnote : madame d'arblay reports mrs. thrale saying to johnson at streatham, in september, : "i remember, sir, when we were travelling in wales, how you called me to account for my civility to the people; 'madam,' you said, 'let me have no more of this idle commendation of nothing. why is it, that whatever you see, and whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise?' 'why i'll tell you, sir,' said i, 'when i am with you, and mr. thrale, and queeny, i am obliged to be civil for four!'"] the other entries referring to the thrales are: "_august_ .--we went to visit bodville, the place where mrs. thrale was born, and the churches called tydweilliog and llangwinodyl, which she holds by impropriation." "_august_ .--we went to see bodville. mrs. thrale remembered the rooms, and wandered over them, with recollections of her childhood. this species of pleasure is always melancholy.... mr. thrale purposes to beautify the churches, and, if he prospers, will probably restore the tithes. mrs. thrale visited a house where she had been used to drink milk, which was left, with an estate of _l._ a year, by one lloyd, to a married woman who lived with him." "_august_ .--_note_. queeny's goats, , i think." without mr. duppa's aid this last entry would be a puzzle for commentators. his note is: "mr. thrale was near-sighted, and could not see the goats browsing on snowdon, and he promised his daughter, who was a child of ten years old, a penny for every goat she would show him, and dr. johnson kept the account; so that it appears her father was in debt to her one hundred and forty-nine pence. _queeny_ was an epithet, which had its origin in the nursery, by which (in allusion to _queen_ esther) miss thrale (whose name was esther) was always distinguished by johnson." she was named, after her mother, hester, not esther. on september , johnson sets down: "we came, to lord sandys', at ombersley, where we were treated with great civility." it was here, as he told mrs. thrale, that for the only time in his life he had as much wall fruit as he liked; yet she says that he was in the habit of eating six or seven peaches before breakfast during the fruit season at streatham. swift was also fond of fruit: "observing (says scott) that a gentleman in whose garden he walked with some friends, seemed to have no intention to request them to eat any, the dean remarked that it was a saying of his dear grandmother: "'always pull a peach when it is within your reach;' and helping himself accordingly, his example was followed by the whole company." thomson, the author of the "castle of indolence," was once seen lounging round lord burlington's garden, with his hands in his waistcoat pockets, biting off the sunny sides of the peaches. johnson's dislike to the lyttletons was not abated by his visit to hagley, of which he says, "we made haste away from a place where all were offended." mrs. thrale's explanation is: "mrs. lyttelton, _ci-devant_ caroline bristow, forced me to play at whist against my liking, and her husband took away johnson's candle that he wanted to read by at the other end of the room. those, i trust, were the offences." he was not in much better humour at combermere abbey, the seat of her relative, sir lynch cotton, which is beautifully situated on one of the finest lakes in england. he commends the place grudgingly, passes a harsh judgment on lady cotton, and is traditionally recorded to have made answer to the baronet who inquired what he thought of a neighbouring peer (lord kilmorey): "a dull, commonplace sort of man, just like you and your brother." in a letter to levet, dated lleweny, in denbighshire, august , , printed by boswell, is this sentence: "wales, so far as i have yet seen of it, is a very beautiful and rich country, all enclosed and planted." her marginal note is: "yet to please mr. thrale, he feigned abhorrence of it." i am indebted to an intelligent and accurate in-formant for a curious incident of the welsh tour: "dr. johnson was taken by mr. and mrs. thrale to dine at maesnynan, with my relation, mr. lloyd, who, with his pretty young daughter (motherless), received them at the door. all came out of the carriage except the great lexicographer, who was crouching in what my uncle jokingly called the poets' corner, deeply interested evidently with the book he was reading. a wink from mrs. thrale, and a touch of her hand, silenced the host. she bade the coachman not move, and desired the people in the house to let mr. johnson read on till dinner was on the table, when she would go and whistle him to it. she always had a whistle hung at her girdle, and this she used, when in wales, to summon him and her daughters[ ], when in or out of doors. mr. lloyd and all the visitors went to see the effect of the whistle, and found him reading intently with one foot on the step of the carriage, where he had been (a looker-on said) five minutes." [footnote : "he cast off his friends as a huntsman his pack, for he knew when he pleas'd he could whistle them back."] "this scene is well told by miss burney, in her 'camilla'[ ] _ex relatione_ mrs. williams (lady cotton's sister, who was present) and beata lloyd, whose brother, colonel thomas lloyd, of the guards, was the brummell of his day, celebrated for his manly beauty and accomplishments. i heard lord crewe say that colonel lloyd's horse, and his graceful manner of mounting him, used to attract members of both houses (he among them) to _turn out_ to see him mount guard; and the princesses were forbidden, when driving out, to go so often that way and at that time." [footnote : book viii. chap, iv., dr. orkborne is described standing on the staircase of an inn absorbed in the composition of a paragraph whilst the party are at dinner.] their impressions of one another as travelling companions were sufficiently favourable to induce the party (with the addition of baretti) to make a short tour in france in the autumn of the year following, , during part of which johnson kept a diary in the same laconic and elliptical style. the only allusion to either of his friends is: "we went to sansterre, a brewer. he brews with about as much malt as mr. thrale, and sells his beer at the same price, though he pays no duty for malt, and little more than half as much for beer. beer is sold retail at sixpence a bottle." in a letter to levet, dated paris, oct. , , he says: "we went to see the king and queen at dinner, and the queen was so impressed by miss, that she sent one of the gentlemen to inquire who she was. i find all true that you have ever told me at paris. mr. thrale is very liberal, and keeps us two coaches, and a very fine table; but i think our cookery very bad. mrs. thrale got into a convent of english nuns, and i talked with her through the grate, and i am very kindly used by the english benedictine friars." a striking instance of johnson's occasional impracticability occurred during this journey: "when we were at rouen together," says mrs. thrale, "he took a great fancy to the abbe kofiette, with whom he conversed about the destruction of the order of jesuits, and condemned it loudly, as a blow to the general power of the church, and likely to be followed with many and dangerous innovations, which might at length become fatal to religion itself, and shake even the foundation of christianity. the gentleman seemed to wonder and delight in his conversation: the talk was all in latin, which both spoke fluently, and mr. johnson pronounced a long eulogium upon milton with so much ardour, eloquence, and ingenuity, that the abbé rose from his seat and embraced him. my husband seeing them apparently so charmed with the company of each other, politely invited the abbé to england, intending to oblige his friend; who, instead of thanking, reprimanded him severely before the man, for such a sudden burst of tenderness towards a person he could know nothing at all of; and thus put a sudden finish to all his own and mr. thrale's entertainment from the company of the abbé roffette." in a letter dated may , , also, mrs. thrale alludes to more than one disagreement in france: "when did i ever plague you about contour, and grace, and expression? i have dreaded them all three since that hapless day at compiegne, when you teased me so, and mr. thrale made what i hoped would have proved a lasting peace; but french ground is unfavourable to fidelity perhaps, and so now you begin again: after having taken five years' breath, you might have done more than this. say another word, and i will bring up afresh the history of your exploits at st. denys and how cross you were for nothing--but some how or other, our travels never make any part either of our conversation or correspondence." joseph baretti, who now formed one of the family, is so mixed up with their history that some account of him becomes indispensable. he was a piedmontese, whose position in his native country was not of a kind to tempt him to remain in it, when lord charlemont, to whom he had been useful in italy, proposed his coming to england. his own story was that he had lost at play the little property he had inherited from his father, an architect. the education given him by his parents was limited to latin; he taught himself english, french, spanish, and portuguese. his talents, acquirements, and strength of mind must have been considerable, for they soon earned him the esteem and friendship of the most eminent members of the johnsonian circle, in despite of his arrogance. he came to england in ; is kindly mentioned in one of johnson's letters in ; and when he was in italy in , his illustrious friend's letters to him are marked by a tone of affectionate interest. ceremony and tenderness are oddly blended in the conclusion of one of them: "may you, my baretti, be very happy at milan, or some other place nearer to, sir, your most affectionate humble servant, samuel johnson." johnson remarked of baretti in : "i know no man who carries his head higher in conversation than baretti. there are strong powers in his mind. he has not indeed many hooks, but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly." cornelia knight was "disgusted by his satirical madness of manner," although admitting him to be a man of great learning and information. madame d'arblay was more struck by his rudeness and violence than by his intellectual vigour. "thraliana" confirms johnson's estimate of baretti's capacity: "will. burke was tart upon mr. baretti for being too dogmatical in his talk about politics. 'you have,' says he, 'no business to be investigating the characters of lord falkland or mr. hampden. you cannot judge of their merits, they are no countrymen of yours.' 'true,' replied baretti, 'and you should learn by the same rule to speak very cautiously about brutus and mark antony; they are my countrymen, and i must have their characters tenderly treated by foreigners.' "baretti could not endure to be called, or scarcely thought, a foreigner, and indeed it did not often occur to his company that he was one; for his accent was wonderfully proper, and his language always copious, always nervous, always full of various allusions, flowing too with a rapidity worthy of admiration, and far beyond the power of nineteen in twenty natives. he had also a knowledge of the solemn language and the gay, could be sublime with johnson, or blackguard with the groom; could dispute, could rally, could quibble, in our language. baretti has, besides, some skill in music, with a bass voice, very agreeable, besides a falsetto which he can manage so as to mimic any singer he hears. i would also trust his knowledge of painting a long way. these accomplishments, with his extensive power over every modern language, make him a most pleasing companion while he is in good humour; and his lofty consciousness of his own superiority, which made him tenacious of every position, and drew him into a thousand distresses, did not, i must own, ever disgust me, till he began to exercise it against myself, and resolve to reign in our house by fairly defying the mistress of it. pride, however, though shocking enough, is never despicable, but vanity, which he possessed too, in an eminent degree, will sometimes make a man near sixty ridiculous. "france displayed all mr. baretti's useful powers--he bustled for us, he catered for us, he took care of the child, he secured an apartment for the maid, he provided for our safety, our amusement, our repose; without him the pleasure of that journey would never have balanced the pain. and great was his disgust, to be sure, when he caught us, as he often did, ridiculing french manners, french sentiments, &c. i think he half cryed to mrs. payne, the landlady at dover, on our return, because we laughed at french cookery, and french accommodations. oh, how he would court the maids at the inns abroad, abuse the men perhaps! and that with a facility not to be exceeded, as they all confessed, by any of the natives. but so he could in spain, i find, and so 'tis plain he could here. i will give one instance of his skill in our low street language. walking in a field near chelsea, he met a fellow, who, suspecting him from dress and manner to be a foreigner, said sneeringly, 'come, sir, will you show me the way to france?' 'no, sir,' says baretti, instantly, 'but i will show you the way to tyburn.' such, however, was his ignorance in a certain line, that he once asked johnson for information who it was composed the pater noster, and i heard him tell evans[ ] the story of dives and lazarus as the subject of a poem he once had composed in the milanese dialect, expecting great credit for his powers of invention. evans owned to me that he thought the man drunk, whereas poor baretti was, both in eating and drinking, a model of temperance. had he guessed evans's thoughts, the parson's gown would scarcely have saved him a knouting from the ferocious italian." [footnote : evans was a clergyman and rector of southwark.] on oct. , , baretti was tried at the old bailey on a charge of murder, for killing with a pocket knife one of three men who, with a woman of the town, hustled him in the haymarket.[ ] he was acquitted, and the event is principally memorable for the appearance of johnson, burke, grarrick, and beauclerc as witnesses to character. the substance of johnson's evidence is thus given in the "gentleman's magazine": [footnote : in his defence, he said:--"i hope it will be seen that my knife was neither a weapon of offence or defence. i wear it to carve fruit and sweetmeats, and not to kill my fellow creatures. it is a general custom in france not to put knives on the table, so that even ladies wear them in their pockets for general use."] "_dr. j_.--i believe i began to be acquainted with mr. baretti about the year or . i have been intimate with him. he is a man of literature, a very studious man, a man of great diligence. he gets his living by study. i have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his life. a man that i never knew to be otherwise than peaceable, and a man that i take to be rather timorous.--_q_. was he addicted to pick up women in the streets?--_dr. j. i_ never knew that he was.--_q_. how is he as to eyesight?--_dr. j._ he does not see me now, nor do i see him. i do not believe he could be capable of assaulting any body in the street, without great provocation." it would seem that johnson's sensibility, such as it was, was not very severely taxed. "_boswell_.--but suppose now, sir, that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged? "_johnson_.---i should do what i could to bail him; but if he were once fairly hanged, i should not suffer. "_boswell_.--would you eat your dinner that day, sir? "_johnson_.--yes, sir, and eat it as if he were eating it with me. why, there's baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow. friends have risen up for him on every side, yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plum-pudding the less. sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind." steevens relates that one evening previous to the trial a consultation of baretti's friends was held at the house of mr. cox, the solicitor. johnson and burke were present, and differed as to some point of the defence. on steevens observing to johnson that the question had been agitated with rather too much warmth, "it may be so," replied the sage, "for burke and i should have been of one opinion if we had had no audience." this is coming very near to-- "would rather that the man should die than his prediction prove a lie." two anecdotes of baretti during his imprisonment are preserved in "thraliana": "when johnson and burke went to see baretti in newgate, they had small comfort to give him, and bid him not hope too strongly. 'why what can _he_ fear,' says baretti, placing himself between 'em, 'that holds two such hands as i do?' "an italian came one day to baretti, when he was in newgate for murder, to desire a letter of recommendation for the teaching of his scholars, when he (baretti) should be hanged. 'you rascal,' replies baretti, in a rage, 'if i were not _in my own apartment_, i would kick you down stairs directly,'" the year after his acquittal baretti published "travels through spain, portugal, and france;" thus mentioned by johnson in a letter to mrs, thrale, dated lichfield, july , : "that baretti's book would please you all, i made no doubt. i know not whether the world has ever seen such travels before. those whose lot it is to ramble can seldom write, and those who know how to write can seldom ramble." the rate of pay showed that the world was aware of the value of the acquisition. he gained _ l._ by this book. his "frusta letteraria," published some time before in italy, had also attracted much attention, and, according to johnson, he was the first who ever received money for copyright in italy, in a biographical notice of baretti which appeared in the "gentleman's magazine" for may, , written by dr. vincent, dean of westminster, it is stated that it was not distress which compelled him to accept mr. thrale's hospitality, but that he was overpersuaded by johnson, contrary to his own inclination, to undertake the instruction of the misses thrale in italian. "he was either nine or eleven years almost entirely in that family," says the dean, "though he still rented a lodging in town, during which period he expended his own _ l._, and received nothing in return for his instruction, but the participation of a good table, and _ l._ by way of presents. instead of his letters to mrs. piozzi in the 'european magazine,' had he told this plain unvarnished tale, he would have convicted that lady of avarice and ingratitude, without incurring the danger of a reply, or exposing his memory to be insulted by her advocates." he was less than three years in the family. as he had a pension of _ l._ a year, besides the interest of his _ l._, he did not want money. if he had been allowed to want it, the charge of avarice would lie at mr., not mrs., thrale's door; and his memory was exposed to no insult beyond the stigma which (as we shall presently see) his conduct and language necessarily fixed upon it. all his literary friends did not entertain the same high opinion of him. an unpublished letter from dr. warton to his brother contains the following passage: "he (huggins, the translator of ariosto) abuses baretti infernally, and says that he one day lent baretti a gold watch, and could never get it afterwards; that after many excuses baretti, skulked, and then got johnson to write to mr. huggins a suppliant letter; that this letter stopped huggins awhile, while baretti got a protection from the sardinian ambassador; and that, at last, with great difficulty, the watch was got from a pawnbroker to whom baretti had sold it." this extract is copied from a valuable contribution to the literary annals of the eighteenth century, for which we are indebted to the colonial press.[ ] it is the diary of an irish clergyman, containing strong internal evidence of authenticity, although nothing more is known of it than that the manuscript was discovered behind an old press in one of the offices of the supreme court of new south wales. that such a person saw a good deal of johnson in , is proved by boswell, whose accuracy is frequently confirmed in return. in one marginal note mrs. thrale says: "he was a fine showy talking man. johnson liked him of all things in a year or two." in another: "dr. campbell was a very tall handsome man, and, speaking of some other _high_-bernian, used this expression: 'indeed now, and upon my honour, sir, i am but a twitter to him.'"[ ] [footnote : diary of a visit to england in . by an irishman (the rev. doctor thomas campbell, author of "a philosophical survey of the south of ireland.") and other papers by the same hand. with notes by samuel raymond, m.a., prothonotary of the supreme court of new south wales. sydney. waugh and cox. .] [footnote : he is similarly described in the "letters," vol. i. p. .] several of his entries throw light on the thrale establishment: "_ th._--this day i called at mr. thrale's, where i was received with all respect by mr. and mrs. thrale. she is a very learned lady, and joins to the charms of her own sex, the manly understanding of ours. the immensity of the brewery astonished me." "_ th._--dined with mr. thrale along with dr. johnson, and baretti. baretti is a plain sensible man, who seems to know the world well. he talked to me of the invitation given him by the college of dublin, but said it ( _l._ a year and rooms) was not worth his acceptance; and if it had been, he said, in point of profit, still he would not have accepted it, for that now he could not live out of london. he had returned a few years ago to his own country, but he could not enjoy it; and he was obliged to return to london, to those connexions he had been making for near thirty years past. he told me he had several families with whom, both in town and country, he could go at any time and spend a month: he is at this time on these terms at mr. thrale's, and he knows how to keep his ground. talking as we were at tea of the magnitude of the beer vessels, he said there was one thing in mr. thrale's house still more extraordinary;--meaning his wife. she gulped the pill very prettily,--so much for baretti! "johnson, you are the very man lord chesterfield describes: a hottentot indeed, and though your abilities are respectable, you never can be respected yourself! he has the aspect of an idiot, without the faintest ray of sense gleaming from any one feature--with the most awkward garb, and unpowdered grey wig, on one side only of his head--he is for ever dancing the devil's jig, and sometimes he makes the most driveling effort to whistle some thought in his absent paroxysms." "_ th._--dined at mr. thrale's where there were ten or more gentlemen, and but one lady besides mrs. thrale. the dinner was excellent: first course, soups at head and foot, removed by fish and a saddle of mutton; second course, a fowl they call galena at head, and a capon larger than some of our irish turkeys, at foot; third course, four different sorts of ices, pine-apple, grape, raspberry, and a fourth; in each remove there were i think fourteen dishes. the two first courses were served in massy plate. i sat beside baretti, which was to me the richest part of the entertainment. he and mr. and mrs. thrale joined in expressing to me dr. johnson's concern that he could not give me the meeting that day, but desired that i should go and see him." "_april st._--dined at mr. thrale's, whom in proof of the magnitude of london, i cannot help remarking, no coachman, and this is the third i have called, could find without inquiry. but of this by the way. there was murphy, boswell, and baretti: the two last, as i learned just before i entered, are mortal foes, so much so that murphy and mrs. thrale agreed that boswell expressed a desire that baretti should be hanged upon that unfortunate affair of his killing, &c. upon this hint, i went, and without any sagacity, it was easily discernible, for upon baretti's entering boswell did not rise, and upon baretti's descry of boswell he grinned a perturbed glance. politeness however smooths the most hostile brows, and theirs were smoothed. johnson was the subject, both before and after dinner, for it was the boast of all but myself, that under that roof were the doctor's fast friends. his _bon-mots_ were retailed in such plenty, that they, like a surfeit, could not lie upon my memory." "n.b. the 'tour to the western isles' was written an twenty days, and the 'patriot' in three; 'taxation no tyranny,' within a week: and not one of them would have yet seen the light, had it not been for mrs. thrale and baretti, who stirred him up by laying wagers." "_april th._--dined with thrale, where dr. johnson was, and boswell (and baretti as usual). the doctor was not in as good spirits as he was at dilly's. he had supped the night before with lady ----, miss jeffries, one of the maids of honour, sir joshua reynolds, &c., at mrs. abington's. he said sir c. thompson, and some others who were there, spoke like people who had seen good company, and so did mrs. abington herself, who could not have seen good company." boswell's note, alluding to the same topic, is: "on saturday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, where we met the irish dr. campbell. johnson had supped the night before at mrs. abington's with some fashionable people whom he named; and he seemed much pleased with having made one in so elegant a circle. nor did he omit to pique his _mistress_ a little with jealousy of her housewifery; for he said, with a smile, 'mrs. abington's jelly, my dear lady, was better than yours.'" the next year is chiefly memorable for the separation from baretti, thus mentioned in "thraliana": "baretti had a comical aversion to mrs. macaulay, and his aversions are numerous and strong. if i had not once written his character in verse,[ ] i would now write it in prose, for few people know him better: he was--_dieu me pardonne_, as the french say--my inmate for very near three years; and though i really liked the man once for his talents, and at last was weary of him for the use he made of them, i never altered my sentiments concerning him; for his character is easily seen, and his soul above disguise, haughty and insolent, and breathing defiance against all mankind; while his powers of mind exceed most people's, and his powers of purse are so slight that they leave him dependent on all. baretti is for ever in the state of a stream dammed up: if he could once get loose, he would bear down all before him. "every soul that visited at our house while he was master of it, went away abhorring it; and mrs. montagu, grieved to see my meekness so imposed upon, had thoughts of writing me on the subject an anonymous letter, advising me to break with him. seward, who tried at last to reconcile us, confessed his wonder that we had lived together so long. johnson used to oppose and battle him, but never with his own consent: the moment he was cool, he would always condemn himself for exerting his superiority over a man who was his friend, a foreigner, and poor: yet i have been told by mrs. montagu that he attributed his loss of our family to johnson: ungrateful and ridiculous! if it had not been for his mediation, i would not so long have borne trampling on, as i did for the last two years of our acquaintance. "not a servant, not a child, did he leave me any authority over; if i would attempt to correct or dismiss them, there was instant appeal to mr. baretti, who was sure always to be against me in every dispute. with mr. thrale i was ever cautious of contending, conscious that a misunderstanding there could never answer, as i have no friend or relation in the world to protect me from the rough treatment of a husband, should he chuse to exert his prerogatives; but when i saw baretti openly urging mr. thrale to cut down some little fruit trees my mother had planted and i had begged might stand, i confess i did take an aversion to the creature, and secretly resolved his stay should not be prolonged by my intreaties whenever his greatness chose to take huff and be gone. as to my eldest daughter, his behaviour was most ungenerous; he was perpetually spurring her to independence, telling her she had more sense and would have a better fortune than her mother, whose admonitions she ought therefore to despise; that she ought to write and receive her own letters _now_, and not submit to an authority i could not keep up if she once had the spirit to challenge it; that, if i died in a lying-in which happened while he lived here, he hoped mr. thrale would marry miss whitbred, who would be a pretty companion for hester, and not tyrannical and overbearing like me. was i not fortunate to see myself once quit of a man like this? who thought his dignity was concerned to set me at defiance, and who was incessantly telling lies to my prejudice in the ears of my husband and children? when he walked out of the house on the th day of july, , i wrote down what follows in my table book. "_ july, ._--this day is made remarkable by the departure of mr. baretti, who has, since october, , been our almost constant inmate, companion, and, i vainly hoped, our friend. on the th of november, , mr. thrale let him have _ l._ and at our return from france _ l._ more, besides his clothes and pocket money: in return to all this, he instructed our eldest daughter--or thought he did--and puffed her about the town for a wit, a genius, a linguist, &c. at the beginning of the year , we purposed visiting italy under his conduct, but were prevented by an unforeseen and heavy calamity: that baretti, however, might not be disappointed of money as well as of pleasure, mr. thrale presented him with guineas, which at first calmed his wrath a little, but did not, perhaps, make amends for his vexation; this i am the more willing to believe, as dr. johnson not being angry too, seemed to grieve him no little, after all our preparations made. "now johnson's virtue was engaged; and he, i doubt not, made it a point of conscience not to increase the distresses of a family already oppressed with affliction. baretti, however, from this time grew sullen and captious; he went on as usual notwithstanding, making streatham his home, carrying on business there, when he thought he had any to do, and teaching his pupil at by-times when he chose so to employ himself; for he always took his choice of hours, and would often spitefully fix on such as were particularly disagreeable to me, whom he has now not liked a long while, if ever he did. he professed, however, a violent attachment to our eldest daughter; said if _she_ had died instead of her poor brother, he should have destroyed himself, with many as wild expressions of fondness. within these few days, when my back was turned, he would often be telling her that he would go away and stay a month, with other threats of the same nature; and she, not being of a caressing or obliging disposition, never, i suppose, soothed his anger or requested his stay. "of all this, however, i can know nothing but from _her_, who is very reserved, and whose kindness i cannot so confide in as to be sure she would tell me all that passed between them; and her attachment is probably greater to him than me, whom he has always endeavoured to lessen as much as possible, both in her eyes and--what was worse--her father's, by telling him how my parts had been over-praised by johnson, and over-rated by the world; that my daughter's skill in languages, even at the age of fourteen, would vastly exceed mine, and such other idle stuff; which mr. thrale had very little care about, but which hetty doubtless thought of great importance. be this as it may, no angry words ever passed between him and me, except perhaps now and then a little spar or so when company was by, in the way of raillery merely. "yesterday, when sir joshua and fitzmaurice dined here, i addressed myself to him with great particularity of attention, begging his company for saturday, as i expected ladies, and said he must come and flirt with them, &c. my daughter in the meantime kept on telling me that mr. baretti was grown very old and very cross, would not look at her exercises, but said he would leave this house soon, for it was no better than pandæmonium. accordingly, the next day he packed up his cloke-bag, which he had not done for three years, and sent it to town; and while we were wondering what he would say about it at breakfast, he was walking to london himself, without taking leave of any one person, except it may be the girl, who owns they had much talk, in the course of which he expressed great aversion to me and even to her, who, he said, he once thought well of. "now whether she had ever told the man things that i might have said of him in his absence, by way of provoking him to go, and so rid herself of his tuition; whether he was puffed up with the last guineas and longed to be spending it _all' italiano;_ whether he thought mr. thrale would call him back, and he should be better established here than ever; or whether he really was idiot enough to be angry at my threatening to whip susan and sophy for going out of bounds, although _he_ had given them leave, for hetty said that was the first offence he took huff at, i never now shall know, for he never expressed himself as an offended man to me, except one day when he was not shaved at the proper hour forsooth, and then i would not quarrel with him, because nobody was by, and i knew him be so vile a lyar that i durst not trust his tongue with a dispute. he is gone, however, loaded with little presents from me, and with a large share too of my good opinion, though i most sincerely rejoice in his departure, and hope we shall never meet more but by chance. "since our quarrel i had occasion to talk of him with tom davies, who spoke with horror of his ferocious temper; 'and yet,' says i, 'there is great sensibility about baretti: i have seen tears often stand in his eyes.' 'indeed,' replies davies, 'i should like to have seen that sight vastly, when--even butchers weep.'" [footnote : in "the streatham portraits." (see vol. ii.)] his intractable character appears from his own account of the rupture: "when madam took it into her head to give herself airs, and treat me with some coldness and superciliousness, i did not hesitate to set down at breakfast my dish of tea not half drank, go for my hat and stick that lay in the corner of the room, turn my back to the house _insalutato hospite_, and walk away to london without uttering a syllable, fully resolved never to see her again, as was the case during no less than four years; nor had she and i ever met again as friends if she and her husband had not chanced upon me after that lapse of time at the house of a gentleman near beckenham, and coaxed me into a reconciliation, which, as almost all reconciliations prove, was not very sincere on her side or mine; so that there was a total end of it on mr. thrale's demise, which happened about three years after."[ ] [footnote : the european magazine, .] the monotony of a constant residence at streatham was varied by trips to bath or brighton; and it was so much a matter of course for johnson to make one of the party, that when ( ), not expecting him so soon back from a journey with boswell, the thrale family and baretti started for bath without him, boswell is disposed to treat their departure without the lexicographer as a slight: "this was not showing the attention which might have been expected to the 'guide, philosopher, and friend;' the _imlac_ who had hastened from the country to console a distressed mother, who he understood was very anxious for his return. they had, i found, without ceremony, proceeded on their journey. i was glad to understand from him that it was still resolved that his tour to italy with mr. and mrs. thrale should take place, of which he had entertained some doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his doubts afterwards appeared to be well founded. he observed, indeed, very justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the party, he would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his advice was asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished on his own account.' i was not pleased that his intimacy with mr. thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint[ ]: not, as has been grossly suggested[ ], that it was required of him as a task to talk for the entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite at his ease: which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too compliant." [footnote : (_marginal note_). "what restraint can he mean? johnson kept every one else under restraint."] [footnote : (_marginal note._) "i do not believe it ever was suggested."] in his first letter of condolence on mr. thrale's death, johnson speaks of her having enjoyed happiness in marriage, "to a degree of which, without personal knowledge, i should have thought the description fabulous." the "autobiography" and "thraliana" tell a widely different tale. the mortification of not finding herself appreciated by her husband was poignantly increased, during the last years of his life, by finding another offensively preferred to her. he was so fascinated by one of her fair friends, as to lose sight altogether of what was due to appearances or to the feelings of his wife. a full account of the lady in question is given in the "thraliana": "_miss streatfield_.--i have since heard that dr. collier picked up a more useful friend, a mrs. streatfield, a widow, high in fortune and rather eminent both for the beauties of person and mind; her children, i find, he has been educating; and her eldest daughter is just now coming out into the world with a great character for elegance and literature.--_ november, ._" "_ may, ._--the person who wrote the title of this book at the top of the page, on the other side--left hand--in the black letter, was the identical miss sophia streatfield, mentioned in 'thraliana,' as pupil to poor dear doctor collier, after he and i had parted. by the chance meeting of some of the currents which keep this ocean of human life from stagnating, this lady and myself were driven together nine months ago at brighthelmstone: we soon grew intimate from having often heard of each other, and i have now the honour and happiness of calling her my friend. her face is eminently pretty; her carriage elegant; her heart affectionate, and her mind cultivated. there is above all this an attractive sweetness in her manner, which claims and promises to repay one's confidence, and which drew from me the secret of my keeping a 'thraliana,' &c. &c. &c." "_jan. ._--mr. thrale is fallen in love, really and seriously, with sophy streatfield; but there is no wonder in that; she is very pretty, very gentle, soft, and insinuating; hangs about him, dances round him, cries when she parts from him, squeezes his hand slyly, and with her sweet eyes full of tears looks so fondly in his face[ ]--and all for love of me as she pretends; that i can hardly, sometimes, help laughing in her face. a man must not be a _man_ but an _it_, to resist such artillery. marriott said very well, "'man flatt'ring man, not always can prevail, but woman flatt'ring man, can never fail.' "murphy did not use, i think, to have a good opinion of me, but he seems to have changed his mind this christmas, and to believe better of me. i am glad on't to be sure: the suffrage of such a man is well worth having: he sees thrale's love of the fair s.s. i suppose: approves my silent and patient endurance of what i could not prevent by more rough and sincere behaviour." [footnote : "and merlin look'd and half believed her true, so tender was her voice, so fair her face, so sweetly gleam'd her eyes behind her tears, like sunlight on the plain, behind a shower." _idylls of the king.--vivien._] " _january_, .--sophy streatfield is come to town: she is in the 'morning post' too, i see (to be in the 'morning post' is no good thing). she has won wedderburne's heart from his wife, i believe, and few married women will bear _that_ patiently if i do; they will some of them wound her reputation, so that i question whether it can recover. lady erskine made many odd inquiries about her to me yesterday, and winked and looked wise at her sister. the dear s.s. must be a little on her guard; nothing is so spiteful as a woman robbed of a heart she thinks she has a claim upon. she will not lose _that_ with temper, which she has taken perhaps no pains at all to preserve: and i do not observe with any pleasure, i fear, that my husband prefers miss streatfield to me, though i must acknowledge her younger, handsomer, and a better scholar. of her chastity, however, i never had a doubt: she was bred by dr. collier in the strictest principles of piety and virtue; she not only knows she will be always chaste, but she knows why she will be so.[ ] mr. thrale is now by dint of disease quite out of the question, so i am a disinterested spectator; but her coquetry is very dangerous indeed, and i wish she were married that there might be an end on't. mr. thrale loves her, however, sick or well, better by a thousand degrees than he does me or any one else, and even now desires nothing on earth half so much as the sight of his sophia. "'e'en from the tomb the voice of nature cries! e'en in our ashes live their wonted fires!' "the saturday before mr. thrale was taken ill, saturday, th february--he was struck monday, st february--we had a large party to tea, cards, and supper; miss streatfield was one, and as mr. thrale sate by her, he pressed her hand to his heart (as she told me herself), and said 'sophy, we shall not enjoy this long, and to-night i will not be cheated of my only comfort.' poor soul! how shockingly tender! on the first fryday that he spoke after his stupor, she came to see him, and as she sate by the bedside pitying him, 'oh,' says he, 'who would not suffer even all that i have endured to be pitied by you!' this i heard myself." [footnote : "besides, her inborn virtue fortify, they are most firmly good, who best know why."] "here is sophy streatfield again, handsomer than ever, and flushed with new conquests; the bishop of chester feels her power, i am sure; she showed me a letter from him that was as tender and had all the tokens upon it as strong as ever i remember to have seen 'em; i repeated to her out of pope's homer--'very well, sophy,' says i: "'range undisturb'd among the hostile crew, but touch not hinchliffe[ ], hinchliffe is my due.' miss streatfield (says my master) could have quoted these lines in the greek; his saying so piqued me, and piqued me because it was true. i wish i understood greek! mr. thrale's preference of her to me never vexed me so much as my consciousness--or fear at least--that he has reason for his preference. she has ten times my beauty, and five times my scholarship: wit and knowledge has she none." [footnote : for hector. hinchliffe was bishop of peterborough.] "_may_, .--sophy streatfield is an incomprehensible girl; here has she been telling me such tender passages of what passed between her and mr. thrale, that she half frights me somehow, at the same time declaring her attachment to vyse yet her willingness to marry lord loughborough. good god! what an uncommon girl! and handsome almost to perfection, i think: delicate in her manners, soft in her voice, and strict in her principles: i never saw such a character, she is wholly out of my reach; and i can only say that the man who runs mad for sophy streatfield has no reason to be ashamed of his passion; few people, however, seem disposed to take her for life--everybody's admiration, as mrs. byron says, and nobody's choice. "_streatham, january st_, .--sophy streatfield has begun the new year nicely with a new conquest. poor dear doctor burney! _he_ is now the reigning favourite, and she spares neither pains nor caresses to turn that good man's head, much to the vexation of his family; particularly my fanny, who is naturally provoked to see sport made of her father in his last stage of life by a young coquet, whose sole employment in this world seems to have been winning men's hearts on purpose to fling them away. how she contrives to keep bishops, and brewers, and doctors, and directors of the east india company, all in chains so, and almost all at the same time, would amaze a wiser person than me; i can only say let us mark the end! hester will perhaps see her out and pronounce, like solon, on her wisdom and conduct." as this lady has excited great interest, and was much with the thrales, i will add what i have been able to ascertain concerning her. she is frequently mentioned in madame d'arblay's diary: "_streatham, sept_. .--to be sure she (mrs. thrale) saw it was not totally disagreeable to me; though i was really astounded when she hinted at my becoming a rival to miss streatfield in the doctor's good graces. "'i had a long letter,' she said, 'from sophy streatfield t'other day, and she sent dr. johnson her elegant edition of the 'classics;' but when he had read the letter, he said 'she is a sweet creature, and i love her much; but my little burney writes a better letter.' now,' continued she, 'that is just what i wished him to say of you both.'" "_streatham, sept_. .--mr. seward, you know, told me that she had tears at command, and i begin to think so too, for when mrs. thrale, who had previously told me i should see her cry, began coaxing her to stay, and saying, 'if you go, i shall know you don't love me so well as lady gresham,'--she did cry, not loud indeed, nor much, but the tears came into her eyes, and rolled down her fine cheeks. "'come hither, miss burney,' cried mrs. thrale; 'come and see miss streatfield cry!' "i thought it a mere _badinage_. i went to them, but when i saw real tears, i was shocked, and saying, 'no, i won't look at her,' ran away frightened, lest she should think i laughed at her, which mrs. thrale did so openly, that, as i told her, had she served me so, i should have been affronted with her ever after. "miss streatfield, however, whether from a sweetness not to be ruffled, or from not perceiving there was any room for taking offence, gently wiped her eyes, and was perfectly composed!" "_streatham, june_, .--seward, said mrs. thrale, had affronted johnson, and then johnson affronted seward, and then the s.s. cried. "_sir philip_ (_clerke_).--well, i have heard so much of these tears, that i would give the universe to have a sight of them. "_mrs. thrale_.--well, she shall cry again, if you like it. "_s.s._.--no, pray, mrs. thrale. "_sir philip_.--oh, pray do! pray let me see a little of it. "_mrs. thrale_.--yes, do cry a little sophy [in a wheedling voice], pray do! consider, now, you are going to-day, and it's very hard if you won't cry a little: indeed, s.s., you ought to cry. "now for the wonder of wonders. when mrs. thrale, in a coaxing voice, suited to a nurse soothing a baby, had run on for some time,--while all the rest of us, in laughter, joined in the request,--two crystal tears came into the soft eyes of the s.s., and rolled gently down her cheeks! such a sight i never saw before, nor could i have believed. she offered not to conceal or dissipate them: on the contrary, she really contrived to have them seen by everybody. she looked, indeed, uncommonly handsome; for her pretty face was not, like chloe's, blubbered; it was smooth and elegant, and neither her features nor complexion were at all ruffled; nay, indeed, she was smiling all the time. "'look, look!' cried mrs. thrale; 'see if the tears are not come already.' "loud and rude bursts of laughter broke from us all at once. how, indeed, could they be restrained?" "_streatham, sunday, june_ , .--after church we all strolled round the grounds, and the topic of our discourse was miss streatfield. mrs. thrale asserted that she had a power of captivation that was irresistible; that her beauty, joined to her softness, her caressing manners, her tearful eyes, and alluring looks, would insinuate her into the heart of any man she thought worth attacking. "sir philip declared himself of a totally different opinion, and quoted dr. johnson against her, who had told him that, taking away her greek, she was as ignorant as a butterfly. "mr. seward declared her greek was all against her with him, for that, instead of reading pope, swift, or the spectator--books from which she might derive useful knowledge and improvement--it had led her to devote all her reading time to the first eight books of homer. "'but,' said mrs. thrale, 'her greek, you must own, has made all her celebrity;--you would have heard no more of her than of any other pretty girl, but for that.' "'what i object to,' said sir philip, 'is her avowed preference for this parson. surely it is very indelicate in any lady to let all the world know with whom she is in love!" "'the parson,' said the severe mr. seward, 'i suppose, spoke first,--or she would as soon have been in love with you, or with me!' "you will easily believe i gave him no pleasant look." the parson was the rev. dr. vyse, rector of lambeth. he had made an imprudent marriage early in life, and was separated from his wife, of whom he hoped to get rid either by divorce or by her death, as she was reported to be in bad health. under these circumstances, he had entered into a conditional engagement with the fair s.s.; but eventually threw her over, either in despair at his wife's longevity or from caprice. on the mention of his name by boswell, mrs. piozzi writes opposite: "whose connection with sophia streatfield was afterwards so much talked about, and i suppose never understood: certainly not at all by h.l.p." to return to the d'arblay diary: "_streatham, june_ , .--we had my dear father and sophy streatfield, who, as usual, was beautiful, caressing, amiable, sweet, and--fatiguing." "_streatham, aug_. .--some time after sophy streatfield was talked of,--oh, with how much impertinence! as if she was at the service of any man who would make proposals to her! yet mr. seward spoke of her with praise and tenderness all the time, as if, though firmly of this opinion, he was warmly her admirer. from such admirers and such admiration heaven guard me! mr. crutchley said but little; but that little was bitter enough. "'however,' said mr. seward, 'after all that can be said, there is nobody whose manners are more engaging, nobody more amiable than the little sophy; and she is certainly very pretty; i must own i have always been afraid to trust myself with her.' "here mr. crutchley looked very sneeringly. "'nay, 'squire,' cried mr. seward, 'she is very dangerous, i can tell you; and if she had you at a fair trial, she would make an impression that would soften-even your hard heart.' "'no need of any further trial,' said he, laughing, 'for she has done that already; and so soft was the impression that it absolutely all dissolved!--melted quite away, and not a trace of it left!' "mr. seward then proposed that she should marry sir john miller, who has just lost his wife; and very gravely said, he had a great mind to set out for tunbridge, and carry her with him to bath, and so make the match without delay! "'but surely,' said mrs. thrale, 'if you fail, you will think yourself bound in honour to marry her yourself?' "'why, that's the thing,' said he; 'no, i can't take the little sophy myself; i should have too many rivals; rivals; no, that won't do.' "how abominably conceited and _sure_ these pretty gentlemen are! however, mr. crutchley here made a speech that half won my heart. "'i wish,' said he, 'miss streatfield was here at this moment to cuff you, seward!' "'cuff me,' cried he. 'what, the little sophy!--and why?' "'for disposing of her so freely. i think a man deserves to be cuffed for saying _any_ lady will marry him.' "i seconded this speech with much approbation." "_london, jan._ .--before they went came miss streatfield, looking pale, but very elegant and pretty. she was in high spirits, and i hope has some reason. she made, at least, speeches that provoked such surmises. when the jacksons went,-- "'that,' said i, 'is the celebrated jackson of exeter; i dare say you would like him if you knew him.' "'i dare say i should,' cried she, simpering; 'for he has the two requisites for me,--he is tall and thin.' "to be sure, this did not at all call for raillery! dr. vyse has always been distinguished by these two epithets. i said, however, nothing, as my mother was present; but she would not let my looks pass unnoticed. "'oh!' cried she, 'how wicked you look!--no need of seeing mrs. siddons for expression!--however, you know how much that is my taste,--tall and thin!--but you don't know how _apropos_ it is just now!'" nine years after the last entry, we find: "_may_ , .--we now met mrs. porteous; and who should be with her but the poor pretty s.s., whom so long i had not seen, and who has now lately been finally given up by her long-sought and very injurious lover, dr. vyse? "she is sadly faded, and looked disturbed and unhappy but still beautiful, though no longer blooming; and still affectionate, though absent and evidently absorbed. we had a little chat together about the thrales. in mentioning our former intimacy with them, 'ah, those,' she cried, 'were happy times!' and her eyes glistened. poor thing! hers has been a lamentable story!--imprudence and vanity have rarely been mixed with so much sweetness, and good-humour, and candour, and followed with more reproach and ill success. we agreed to renew acquaintance next winter; at present she will be little more in town." in a letter to madame d'arblay, oct. , , mrs. piozzi says: "fell, the bookseller in bond street, told me a fortnight or three weeks ago, that miss streatfield lives where she did in his neighbourhood, clifford street, s.s. still." on the th january, : "'the once charming s.s. had inquired for me of nornaville and fell, the old bond street book-sellers, so i thought she meditated writing, but was deceived." the story she told the author of "piozziana," in proof of johnson's want of firmness, clearly refers to this lady: "i had remarked to her that johnson's readiness to condemn any moral deviation in others was, in a man so entirely before the public as he was, nearly a proof of his own spotless purity of conduct. she said, 'yes, johnson was, on the whole, a rigid moralist; but he could be ductile, i may say, servile; and i will give you an instance. we had a large dinner-party at our house; johnson sat on one side of me, and burke on the other; and in the company there was a young female (mrs. piozzi named her), to whom i, in my peevishness, thought mr. thrale superfluously attentive, to the neglect of me and others; especially of myself, then near my confinement, and dismally low-spirited; notwithstanding which, mr. t. very unceremoniously begged of me to change place with sophy ----, who was threatened with a sore throat, and might be injured by sitting near the door. i had scarcely swallowed a spoonful of soup when this occurred, and was so overset by the coarseness of the proposal, that i burst into tears, said something petulant--that perhaps ere long, the lady might be at the head of mr. t.'s table, without displacing the mistress of the house, &c., and so left the apartment. i retired to the drawing-room, and for an hour or two contended with my vexation, as i best could, when johnson and burke came up. on seeing them, i resolved to give a _jobation_ to both, but fixed on johnson for my charge, and asked him if he had noticed what passed, what i had suffered, and whether allowing for the state of my nerves, i was much to blame? he answered, "why, possibly not; your feelings were outraged." i said, "yes, greatly so; and i cannot help remarking with what blandness and composure you _witnessed_ the outrage. had this transaction been told of others, your anger would have known no bounds; but, towards a man who gives good dinners &c., you were meekness itself!" johnson coloured, and burke, i thought, looked foolish; but i had not a word of answer from either.'" the only excuse for mr. thrale is to be found in his mental and bodily condition at the time, which made it impossible for johnson or burke to interfere without a downright quarrel with him, nor without making matters worse. this, however, is not the only instance in which johnson witnessed thrale's laxity of morals without reproving it. opposite the passage in which boswell reports johnson as palliating infidelity in a husband by the remark, that the man imposes no bastards on his wife, she writes: "sometimes he does. johnson knew a man who did, and the lady took very tender care of them." madame d'arblay was not uniformly such a source of comfort to her as that lady supposed. the entries in "thraliana" relating to her show this: "_august,_ .--fanny burney has been a long time from me; i was glad to see her again; yet she makes me miserable too in many respects, so restlessly and apparently anxious, lest i should give myself airs of patronage or load her with the shackles of dependance. i live with her always in a degree of pain that precludes friendship--dare not ask her to buy me a ribbon--dare not desire her to touch the bell, lest she should think herself injured--lest she should forsooth appear in the character of miss neville, and i in that of the widow bromley. see murphy's 'know your own mind.'" "fanny burney has kept her room here in my house seven days, with a fever or something that she called a fever; i gave her every medicine and every slop with my own hand; took away her dirty cups, spoons, &c.; moved her tables: in short, was doctor, and nurse and maid--for i did not like the servants should have additional trouble lest they should hate her for it. and now,--with the true gratitude of a wit, she tells me that the world thinks the better of me for my civilities to her. it does? does it?" "miss burney was much admired at bath ( ); the puppy-men said, 'she had such a drooping air and such a timid intelligence;' or, 'a timid air,' i think it was,' and a drooping intelligence;' never sure was such a collection of pedantry and affectation as rilled bath when we were on that spot. how everything else and everybody set off my gallant bishop. 'quantum lenta solent inter viburna cupressi.' of all the people i ever heard read verse in my whole life, the best, the most perfect reader, is the bishop of peterboro' (hinchcliffe.)"[ ] [footnote : in a marginal note on boswell, she says: "the people (in ) did read shamefully. yet mr. lee, the poet, many years before johnson was born, read so gracefully, the players would not accept his tragedies till they had heard them from other lips: his own (they said) sweetened all which proceeded from them." speaker onslow equally was celebrated for his manner of reading.] "_july st_, .--mrs. byron, who really loves me, was disgusted at miss burney's carriage to me, who have been such a friend and benefactress to her: not an article of dress, not a ticket for public places, not a thing in the world that she could not command from me: yet always insolent, always pining for home, always preferring the mode of life in st. martin's street to all i could do for her. she is a saucy-spirited little puss to be sure, but i love her dearly for all that; and i fancy she has a real regard for me, if she did not think it beneath the dignity of a wit, or of what she values more--the dignity of dr. burnett's daughter--to indulge it. such dignity! the lady louisa of leicester square![ ] in good time!" [footnote : alluding to a character in "evelina."] " .--what a blockhead dr. burney is to be always sending for his daughter home so! what a monkey! is she not better and happier with me than she can be anywhere else? johnson is enraged at the silliness of their family conduct, and mrs. byron disgusted; i confess myself provoked excessively, but i love the girl so dearly--and the doctor, too, for that matter, only that he has such odd notions of superiority in his own house, and will have his children under his feet forsooth, rather than let 'em live in peace, plenty, and comfort anywhere from home. if i did not provide fanny with every wearable--every wishable, indeed,--it would not vex me to be served so; but to see the impossibility of compensating for the pleasures of st. martin's street, makes one at once merry and mortified. "dr. burney did not like his daughter should learn latin even of johnson, who offered to teach her for friendship, because then she would have been as wise as himself forsooth, and latin was too masculine for misses. a narrow-souled goose-cap the man must be at last, agreeable and amiable all the while too, beyond almost any other human creature. well, mortal man is but a paltry animal! the best of us have such drawbacks both upon virtue, wisdom, and knowledge." in what his daughter calls a doggrel list of his friends and his feats, dr. burney has thus mentioned the thrales: " .--this year's acquaintance began with the thrales, where i met with great talents 'mongst females and males, but the best thing it gave me from that time to this, was the freedom it gave me to sound the abyss, at my ease and my leisure, of johnson's great mind, where new treasures unnumber'd i constantly find." highly to her credit, mrs. thrale did not omit any part of her own duties to her husband because he forgot his. in march, , she writes to johnson: "i am willing to show myself in southwark, or in any place, for my master's pleasure or advantage; but have no present conviction that to be re-elected would be advantageous, so shattered a state as his nerves are in just now.--do not you, however, fancy for a moment, that i shrink from fatigue--or desire to escape from doing my duty;--spiting one's antagonist is a reason that never ought to operate, and never does operate with me: i care nothing about a rival candidate's innuendos, i care only about my husband's health and fame; and if we find that he earnestly wishes to be once more member for the borough--he _shall_ be member, if anything done or suffered by me will help make him so." in the may following she writes: "meanwhile, heaven send this southwark election safe, for a disappointment would half kill my husband, and there is no comfort in tiring every friend to death in such a manner and losing the town at last." this was an agitating month. in "thraliana ": "_ th may_, .--i got back to bath again and staid there till the riots[ ] drove us all away the first week in june: we made a dawdling journey, cross country, to brighthelmstone, where all was likely to be at peace: the letters we found there, however, shewed us how near we were to ruin here in the borough: where nothing but the astonishing presence of mind shewed by perkins in amusing the mob with meat and drink and huzzas, till sir philip jennings clerke could get the troops and pack up the counting-house bills, bonds, &c. and carry them, which he did, to chelsea college for safety,--could have saved us from actual undoing. the villains _had_ broke in, and our brewhouse would have blazed in ten minutes, when a property of £ , would have been utterly lost, and its once flourishing possessors quite undone. "let me stop here to give god thanks for so very undeserved, so apparent, an interposition of providence in our favour. "i left mr. thrale at brighthelmstone and came to town again to see what was left to be done: we have now got arms and mean to defend ourselves by force if further violence is intended. sir philip comes every day at some hour or another--good creature, how kind he is! and how much i ought to love him! god knows i am not in this case wanting to my duty. i have presented perkins, with my master's permission, with two hundred guineas, and a silver urn for his lady, with his own cypher on it and this motto--mollis responsio, iram avertit." [footnote : the lord george gordon riots.] in the spring of , "i found," says boswell, "on visiting mr. thrale that he was now very ill, and had removed, i suppose by the solicitation of mrs. thrale, to a house in grosvenor square." she has written opposite: "spiteful again! he went by direction of his physicians where they could easiest attend to him." the removal to grosvenor square is thus mentioned in "thraliana": "_monday, january th_, .--so now we are to spend this winter in grosvenor square; my master has taken a ready-furnished lodging-house there, and we go in to-morrow. he frighted me cruelly a while ago; he would have lady shelburne's house, one of the finest in london; he would buy, he would build, he would give twenty to thirty guineas a week for a house. oh lord, thought i, the people will sure enough throw stones at me now when they see a dying man go to such mad expenses, and all, as they will naturally think, to please a wife wild with the love of expense. this was the very thing i endeavoured to avoid by canvassing the borough for him, in hopes of being through that means tyed to the brewhouse where i always hated to live till now, that i conclude his constitution lost, and that the world will say _i_ tempt him in his weak state of body and mind to take a fine house for me at the flashy end of the town." "he however, dear creature, is as absolute, ay, and ten times more so, than ever, since he suspects his head to be suspected, and to grosvenor square we are going, and i cannot be sorry, for it will doubtless be comfortable enough to see one's friends commodiously, and i have long wished to quit _harrow corner_, to be sure; how could one help it? though i did "'call round my casks each object of desire' all last winter: but it was a heavy drag too, and what signifies resolving _never_ to be pleased? i will make myself comfortable in my new habitation, and be thankful to god and my husband." on february , , she writes to madame d'arblay: "yesterday i had a conversazione. mrs. montagu was brilliant in diamonds, solid in judgment, critical in talk. sophy smiled, piozzi sung, pepys panted with admiration, johnson was good humoured, lord john clinton attentive, dr. bowdler lame, and my master not asleep. mrs. ord looked elegant, lady rothes dainty, mrs. davenant dapper, and sir philip's curls were all blown about by the wind. mrs. byron rejoices that her admiral and i agree so well; the way to his heart is connoisseurship it seems, and for a background and contorno, who comes up to mrs. thrale, you know." in "thraliana": "_sunday, march th_, .--well! now i have experienced the delights of a london winter, spent in the bosom of flattery, gayety, and grosvenor square; 'tis a poor thing, however, and leaves a void in the mind, but i have had my compting-house duties to attend, my sick master to watch, my little children to look after, and how much good have i done in any way? not a scrap as i can see; the pecuniary affairs have gone on perversely: how should they chuse [an omission here] when the sole proprietor is incapable of giving orders, yet not so far incapable as to be set aside! distress, fraud, folly, meet me at every turn, and i am not able to fight against them all, though endued with an iron constitution, which shakes not by sleepless nights or days severely fretted. "mr. thrale talks now of going to spa and italy again; how shall we drag him thither? a man who cannot keep awake four hours at a stroke &c. well! this will indeed be a tryal of one's patience; and who must go with us on this expedition? mr. johnson!--he will indeed be the only happy person of the party; he values nothing _under_ heaven but his own mind, which is a spark _from_ heaven, and that will be invigorated by the addition of new ideas. if mr. thrale dies on the road, johnson will console himself by learning how it is to travel with a corpse: and, after all, such reasoning is the true philosophy--one's heart is a mere incumbrance--would i could leave mine behind. the children shall go to their sisters at kensington, mrs. cumyns may take care of them all. god grant us a happy meeting some _where_ and some _time_! "baretti should attend, i think; there is no man who has so much of every language, and can manage so well with johnson, is so tidy on the road, so active top to obtain good accommodations. he is the man in the world, i think, whom i most abhor, and who _hates_ and _professes_ to _hate me_ the most; but what does that signifie? he will be careful of mr. thrale and hester whom he _does_ love--and he won't strangle _me_, i suppose. somebody we _must_ have. croza would court our daughter, and piozzi could not talk to johnson, nor, i suppose, do one any good but sing to one,--and how should we _sing songs in a strange land_? baretti must be the man, and i will beg it of him as a favour. oh, the triumph he will have! and the lyes he will tell!" thrale's death is thus described in "thraliana": "on the sunday, the st of april, i went to hear the bishop of peterborough preach at may fair chapel, and though the sermon had nothing in it particularly pathetic, i could not keep my tears within my eyes. i spent the evening, however, at lady rothes', and was cheerful. found sir john lade, johnson, and boswell, with mr. thrale, at my return to the square. on monday morning mr. evans came to breakfast; sir philip and dr. johnson to dinner--so did baretti. mr. thrale eat voraciously--so voraciously that, encouraged by jebb and pepys, who had charged me to do so, i checked him rather severely, and mr. johnson added these remarkable words: "sir, after the denunciation of your physicians this morning, such eating is little better than suicide." he did not, however, desist, and sir philip said, he eat apparently in defiance of control, and that it was better for us to say nothing to him. johnson observed that he thought so too; and that he spoke more from a sense of duty than a hope of success. baretti and these two spent the evening with me, and i was enumerating the people who were to meet the indian ambassadors on the wednesday. i had been to negri's and bespoke an elegant entertainment. "on the next day, tuesday the rd, mrs. hinchliffe called on me in the morning to go see webber's drawings of the south sea rareties. we met the smelts, the ords, and numberless _blues_ there, and displayed our pedantry at our pleasure. going and coming, however, i quite teazed mrs. hinchliffe with my low-spirited terrors about mr. thrale, who had not all this while one symptom worse than he had had for months; though the physicians this tuesday morning agreed that a continuation of such dinners as he had lately made would soon dispatch a life so precarious and uncertain. when i came home to dress, piozzi, who was in the next room teaching hester to sing, began lamenting that he was engaged to mrs. locke on the following evening, when i had such a world of company to meet these fine orientals; he had, however, engaged roncaglia and sacchini to begin with, and would make a point of coming himself at nine o'clock if possible. i gave him the money i had collected for his benefit-- _l_. i remember it was--a banker's note--and burst out o' crying, and said, i was sure i should not go to it. the man was shocked, and wondered what i meant. nay, says i, 'tis mere lowness of spirits, for mr. thrale is very well now, and is gone out in his carriage to spit cards, as i call'd it--sputar le carte. just then came a letter from dr. pepys, insisting to speak with me in the afternoon, and though there was nothing very particular in the letter considering our intimacy, i burst out o' crying again, and threw myself into an agony, saying, i was sure mr. thrale would dye. "miss owen came to dinner, and mr. thrale came home so well! and in such spirits! he had invited more people to my concert, or conversazione, or musical party, of the next day, and was delighted to think what a show we should make. he eat, however, more than enormously. six things the day before, and eight on this day, with strong beer in such quantities! the very servants were frighted, and when pepys came in the evening he said this could not last--either there must be _legal_[ ] restraint or certain death. dear mrs. byron spent the evening with me, and mr. crutchley came from sunning-hill to be ready for the morrow's flash. johnson was at the bishop of chester's. i went down in the course of the afternoon to see after my master as usual, and found him not asleep, but sitting with his legs up--_because_, as he express'd it. i kissed him, and said how good he was to be so careful of himself. he enquired who was above, but had no disposition to come up stairs. miss owen and mrs. byron now took their leave. the dr. had been gone about twenty minutes when hester went down to see her papa, and found him on the floor. what's the meaning of this? says she, in an agony. i chuse it, replies mr. thrale firmly; i lie so o' purpose. she ran, however, to call his valet, who was gone out--happy to leave him so particularly _well_, as he thought. when my servant went instead, mr. thrale bid him begone, in a firm tone, and added that he was very well and chose to lie so. by this time, however, mr. crutchley was run down at hetty's intreaty, and had sent to fetch pepys back. he was got but into upper brook street, and found his friend in a most violent fit of the apoplexy, from which he only recovered to relapse into another, every one growing weaker as his strength grew less, till six o'clock on wednesday morning, th april, , when he died. sir richard jebb, who was fetched at the beginning of the distress, seeing death certain, quitted the house without even prescribing. pepys did all that could be done, and johnson, who was sent for at eleven o'clock, never left him, for while breath remained he still hoped. i ventured in once, and saw them cutting his clothes off to bleed him, but i saw no more." [footnote : (_note_ by mrs. t.). "i rejected all propositions of the sort, and said, as he had got the money, he had the best right to throw it away.... i should always prefer my husband, to my children: let him do his _own_ way."] we learn from madame d'arblay's journal, that, towards the end of march, , mr. thrale had resolved on going abroad with his wife, and that johnson was to accompany them, but a subsequent entry states that the doctors condemned the plan; and "therefore," she adds, "it is settled that a great meeting of his friends is to take place before he actually prepares for the journey, and they are to encircle him in a body, and endeavour, by representations and entreaties, 'to prevail with him to give it up; and i have little doubt myself but, amongst us, we shall be able to succeed." this is one of the oddest schemes ever projected by a set of learned and accomplished gentlemen and ladies for the benefit of a hypochondriac patient. its execution was prevented by his death. a hurried note from mrs. thrale announcing the event, beginning, "write to me, pray for me," is endorsed by madame d'arblay: "written a few hours after the death of mr. thrale, which happened by a sudden stroke of apoplexy, on the morning of a day on which half the fashion of london had been invited to an intended assembly at his house in grosvenor square." these invitations had been sent out by his own express desire: so little was he aware of his danger. letters and messages of condolence poured in from all sides. johnson (in a letter dated april th) said all that could be said in the way of counsel or consolation: "i do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. we must first pray, and then labour; first implore the blessing of god, and those means which he puts into our hands. cultivated ground, has few weeds; a mind occupied by lawful business, has little room for useless regret. "we read the will to-day; but i will not fill my first letter with any other account than that, with all my zeal for your advantage, i am satisfied; and that the other executors, more used to consider property than i, commended it for wisdom and equity. yet, why should i not tell you that you have five hundred pounds for your immediate expenses, and two thousand pounds a-year, with both the houses and all the goods? "let us pray for one another, that the time, whether long or short, that shall yet be granted us, may be well spent; and that when this life, which at the longest is very short, shall come to an end, a better may begin which shall never end." on april th he writes: "dearest madam,--that you are gradually recovering your tranquillity, is the effect to be humbly expected from trust in god. do not represent life as darker than it is. your loss has been very great, but you retain more than almost any other can hope to possess. you are high in the opinion of mankind; you have children from whom much pleasure may be expected; and that you will find many friends, you have no reason to doubt. of my friendship, be it worth more or less, i hope you think yourself certain, without much art or care. it will not be easy for me to repay the benefits that i have received; but i hope to be always ready at your call. our sorrow has different effects; you are withdrawn into solitude, and i am driven into company. _i_ am afraid of thinking what i have lost. i never had such a friend before. let me have your prayers and those of my dear queeny. "the prudence and resolution of your design to return so soon to your business and your duty deserves great praise; i shall communicate it on wednesday to the other executors. be pleased to let me know whether you would have me come to streatham to receive you, or stay here till the next day." johnson was one of the executors and took pride in discharging his share of the trust. mrs. thrale's account of the pleasure he took in signing the documents and cheques, is incidentally confirmed by boswell: "i could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold. lord lucan tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristical; that when the sale of thrale's brewery was going forward, johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 'we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice.'" the executors had legacies of _l._ each; johnson, to the surprise of his friends, being placed on no better footing than the rest. he himself was certainly disappointed. mrs. thrale says that his complacency towards thrale was not wholly devoid of interested motives; and she adds that his manner towards reynolds and dr. taylor was also softened by the vague expectation of being named in their wills. one of her marginal notes is: "johnson mentioned to reynolds that he had been told by taylor he was to be his heir. his fondness for reynolds, ay, and for thrale, had a dash of interest to keep it warm." again, on his saying to reynolds, "i did not mean to offend you,"--"he never would offend reynolds: he had his reason." many and heavy as were the reproaches subsequently heaped upon the widow, no one has accused her of having been found wanting in energy, propriety, or self-respect at this period. she took the necessary steps for promoting her own interests and those of her children with prudence and promptitude. madame d'arblay, who was carrying on a flirtation with one of the executors (mr. crutchley), and had personal motives for watching their proceedings, writes, april th:-- "miss thrale is steady and constant, and very sincerely grieved for her father. "the four executors, mr. cator, mr. crutchley, mr. henry smith, and dr. johnson, have all behaved generously and honourably, and seem determined to give mrs. thrale all the comfort and assistance in their power. she is to carry on the business jointly with them. poor soul! it is a dreadful toil and worry to her." in "thraliana": "_streatham, st may_, .--i have now appointed three days a week to attend at the counting-house. if an angel from heaven had told me twenty years ago that the man i knew by the name of _dictionary johnson_ should one day become partner with me in a great trade, and that we should jointly or separately sign notes, drafts, &c., for three or four thousand pounds of a morning, how unlikely it would have seemed ever to happen! unlikely is no word tho',--it would have seemed _incredible_, neither of us then being worth a groat, god knows, and both as immeasurably removed from commerce as birth, literature, and inclination could get us. johnson, however, who desires above all other good the accumulation of new ideas, is but too happy with his present employment; and the influence i have over him, added to his own solid judgment and a regard for truth, will at last find it in a small degree difficult to win him from the dirty delight of seeing his name in a new character flaming away at the bottom of bonds and leases." * * * * * "apropos to writing verses in a language one don't understand, there is always the allowance given, and that allowance (like our excise drawbacks) commonly larger than it ought to be. the following translation of the verses written with a knife, has been for this reason uncommonly commended, though they have no merit except being done quick. piozzi asked me on sunday morning if ever i had seen them, and could explain them to _him_, for that he heard they were written by his friend mr. locke. the book in which they were reposited was not ferreted out, however, till monday night, and on tuesday morning i sent him verses and translation: we used to think the original was garrick's, i remember." translation of the verses written with a knife. "taglia amore un coltello, cara, l'hai sentita dire; per l'amore alla moda, esso poco può soffrire. cuori che non mai fur giunti pronti stanno a separar, cari nodi come i nostri non son facili tagliar. questo dico, che se spezza tua tenera bellezza, molto ancor ci resterà; della mia buona fede il coltello non s'avvede, nè di tua gran bontà. che tagliare speranze ben tutto si puo, per piaceri goduti oh, questo poi no? dolci segni! cari pegni! di felècità passata, non temer la coltellata, resterete--io loro: se del caro ben gradita, trovo questa donatura, via pur la tagliatura sol d'amore sta ferita." "the power of emptying one's head of a great thing and filling it with little ones to amuse care, is no small power, and i am proud of being able to write italian verses while i am bargaining , _l_., and settling an event of the highest consequence to my own and my children's welfare. david barclay, the rich quaker, will treat for our brewhouse, and the negotiation is already begun. my heart palpitates with hope and fear--my head is bursting with anxiety and calculation; yet i can listen to a singer and translate verses about a knife." "mrs. montagu has been here; she says i ought to have a statue erected to me for my diligent attendance on my compting-house duties. the _wits_ and the _blues_ (as it is the fashion to call them) will be happy enough, no doubt, to have me safe at the brewery--_out of their way_." "a very strange thing happened in the year , and i never wrote it down,--i must write it down now. a woman came to london from a distant county to prosecute some business, and fell into distress; she was sullen and silent, and the people with whom her affairs connected her advised her to apply for assistance to some friend. what friends can i have in london? says the woman, nobody here knows anything of me. one can't tell _that_, was the reply. where have you lived? i have wandered much, says she, but i am originally from litchfield. who did you know in litchfield in your youth? oh, nobody of any note, i'll warrant: i knew one _david garrick_, indeed, but i once heard that he turned strolling player, and is probably dead long ago; i also knew an obscure man, _samuel johnson_, very good he was too; but who can know anything of poor johnson? i was likewise acquainted with _robert james_, a quack doctor. _he_ is, i suppose, no very reputable connection if i could find him. thus did this woman name and discriminate the three best known characters in london--perhaps in europe." "'such,' says mrs. montagu, 'is the dignity of mrs. thrale's virtue, and such her superiority in all situations of life, that nothing now is wanting but an earthquake to show how she will behave on _that_ occasion.' oh, brave mrs. montagu! she is a monkey, though, to quarrel with johnson so about lyttleton's life: if he was a great character, nothing said of him in that book can hurt him; if he was not a great character, they are bustling about nothing." "mr. crutchley lives now a great deal with me; the business of executor to mr. thrale's will makes much of his attendance necessary, and it begins to have its full effect in seducing and attaching him to the house,--miss burney's being always about me is probably another reason for his close attendance, and i believe it is so. what better could befall miss burney, or indeed what better could befall _him_, than to obtain a woman of honour, and character, and reputation for superior understanding? i would be glad, however, that he fell honestly in love with her, and was not trick'd or trapp'd into marriage, poor fellow; he is no match for the arts of a novel-writer. a mighty particular character mr. crutchley is: strangely mixed up of meanness and magnificence; liberal and splendid in large sums and on serious occasions, narrow and confined in the common occurrences of life; warm and generous in some of his motives, frigid and suspicious, however, for eighteen hours at least out of the twenty-four; likely to be duped, though always expecting fraud, and easily disappointed in realities, though seldom flattered by fancy. he is supposed by those that knew his mother and her connections to be mr. thrale's natural son, and in many things he resembles him, but not in person: as he is both ugly and awkward. mr. thrale certainly believed he was his son, and once told me as much when sophy streatfield's affair was in question but nobody could persuade him to court the s.s. oh! well does the custom-house officer green say,-- "'coquets! leave off affected arts, gay fowlers at a flock of hearts; woodcocks, to shun your snares have skill, you show so plain you strive to kill.'" "_ rd june_, .--well! here have i, with the grace of god and the assistance of good friends, completed--i really think very happily--the greatest event of my life. i have sold my brewhouse to barclay, the rich quaker, for , _l_., to be in four years' time paid. i have by this bargain purchased peace and a stable fortune, restoration to my original rank in life, and a situation undisturbed by commercial jargon, unpolluted by commercial frauds, undisgraced by commercial connections. they who succeed me in the house have purchased the power of being rich beyond the wish of rapacity[ ], and i have procured the improbability of being made poor by flights of the fairy, speculation. 'tis thus that a woman and men of feminine minds always--i speak popularly--decide upon life, and chuse certain mediocrity before probable superiority; while, as eton graham says sublimely,-- "'nobler souls, fir'd with the tedious and disrelish'd good, seek their employment in acknowledg'd ill, danger, and toil, and pain.' "on this principle partly, and partly on worse, was dear mr. johnson something unwilling--but not much at last--to give up a trade by which in some years , _l._ or , _l._ had undoubtedly been got, but by which, in some years, its possessor had suffered agonies of terror and tottered twice upon the verge of bankruptcy. well! if thy own conscience acquit, who shall condemn thee? not, i hope, the future husbands of our daughters, though i should think it likely enough; however, as johnson says very judiciously, they must either think right or wrong: if they think right, let us now think with them; if wrong, let us never care what they think. so adieu to brewhouse, and borough wintering; adieu to trade, and tradesmen's frigid approbation; may virtue and wisdom sanctify our contract, and make buyer and seller happy in the bargain!" [footnote : there is a curious similarity here to johnson's phrase, "the potentiality of becoming rich beyond the dreams of avarice."] after mentioning some friends who disapproved of the sale, she adds: "mrs. montagu has sent me her approbation in a letter exceedingly affectionate and polite. 'tis over now, tho', and i'll clear my head of it and all that belongs to it; i will go to church, give god thanks, receive the sacrament and forget the frauds, follies, and inconveniences of a commercial life this day." madame d'arblay was at streatham on the day of the sale, and gives a dramatic colour to the ensuing scene: "_streatham, thursday_.--this was the great and most important day to all this house, upon which the sale of the brewery was to be decided. mrs. thrale went early to town, to meet all the executors, and mr. barclay, the quaker, who was the _bidder_. she was in great agitation of mind, and told me, if all went well she would wave a white pocket-handkerchief out of the coach window. "four o'clock came and dinner was ready, and no mrs. thrale. five o'clock followed, and no mrs. thrale. queeny and i went out upon the lawn, where we sauntered, in eager expectation, till near six, and then the coach appeared in sight, and a white pocket-handkerchief was waved from it. i ran to the door of it to meet her, and she jumped out of it, and gave me a thousand embraces while i gave my congratulations. we went instantly to her dressing-room, where she told me, in brief, how the matter had been transacted, and then we went down to dinner. dr. johnson and mr. crutchley had accompanied her home." the event is thus announced to langton by johnson, in a letter printed by boswell, dated june , : "you will perhaps be glad to hear that mrs. thrale is disencumbered of her brewhouse, and that it seemed to the purchaser so far from an evil that he was content to give for it , _l_. is the nation ruined." _marginal note_: "i suppose he was neither glad nor sorry." thrale died on the th april, , and mrs. thrale left streatham on the th october, . the intervening eighteen months have been made the subject of an almost unprecedented amount of misrepresentation. hawkins, boswell, madame d'arblay, and lord macaulay have vied with each other in founding uncharitable imputations on her conduct at this period of her widowhood; and it has consequently become necessary to recapitulate the authentic evidence relating to it. as piozzi's name will occur occasionally, he must now be brought upon the scene. he is first mentioned in "thraliana" thus: "_brighton, july_, .--i have picked up piozzi here, the great italian singer. he is amazingly like my father. he shall teach hester." a detailed account of the commencement of the acquaintance is given in one of the autobiographical fragments. she says he was recommended to her by letter by madame d'arblay as "a man likely to lighten the burthen of life to her," and that both she and mr. thrale took to him at once. madame d'arblay is silent as to the introduction or recommendation; but gives an amusing account of one of their first meetings: "a few months after the streathamite morning visit to st. martin's street, an evening party was arranged by dr. burney, for bringing thither again dr. johnson and mrs. thrale, at the desire of mr. and mrs. greville and mrs. crewe; who wished, under the quiet roof of dr. burney, to make acquaintance with these celebrated personages." the conversation flagged, and recourse was had to music-- "piozzi, a first-rate singer, whose voice was deliciously sweet, and whose expression was perfect, sung in his very best manner, from his desire to do honour to _il capo di casa_; but _il capo di casa_ and his family alone did justice to his strains: neither the grevilles nor the thrales heeded music beyond what belonged to it as fashion: the expectations of the grevilles were all occupied by dr. johnson; and those of the thrales by the authoress of the ode to indifference. when piozzi, therefore, arose, the party remained as little advanced in any method or pleasure for carrying on the evening, as upon its first entrance into the room.... "dr. burney now began to feel considerably embarrassed; though still he cherished hopes of ultimate relief from some auspicious circumstance that, sooner or later, would operate, he hoped, in his favour, through the magnetism of congenial talents. "vainly, however, he sought to elicit some observations that might lead to disserting discourse; all his attempts received only quiet, acquiescent replies, 'signifying nothing.' every one was awaiting some spontaneous opening from dr. johnson. "mrs. thrale, of the whole coterie, was alone at her ease. she feared not dr. johnson; for fear made no part of her composition; and with mrs. greville, as a fair rival genius, she would have been glad, from curiosity, to have had the honour of a little tilt, in full carelessness of its event; for though triumphant when victorious, she had spirits so volatile, and such utter exemption from envy or spleen, that she was gaily free from mortification when vanquished. but she knew the meeting to have been fabricated for dr. johnson; and, therefore, though not without difficulty, constrained herself to be passive. "when, however, she observed the sardonic disposition of mr. greville to stare around him at the whole company in curious silence, she felt a defiance against his aristocracy beat in every pulse; for, however grandly he might look back to the long ancestry of the brookes and the grevilles, she had a glowing consciousness that her own blood, rapid and fluent, flowed in her veins from adam of saltsberg; and, at length, provoked by the dullness of a taciturnity that, in the midst of such renowned interlocutors, produced as narcotic a torpor as could have been caused by a dearth the most barren of human faculties; she grew tired of the music, and yet more tired of remaining, what as little suited her inclinations as her abilities, a mere cipher in the company; and, holding such a position, and all its concomitants, to be ridiculous, her spirits rose rebelliously above her control; and, in a fit of utter recklessness of what might be thought of her by her fine new acquaintance, she suddenly, but softly, arose, and stealing on tip-toe behind signor piozzi, who was accompanying himself on the piano-forte to an animated _arria parlante_, with his back to the company, and his face to the wall; she ludicrously began imitating him by squaring her elbows, elevating them with ecstatic shrugs of the shoulders, and casting up her eyes, while languishingly reclining her head; as if she were not less enthusiastically, though somewhat more suddenly, struck with the transports of harmony than himself. "this grotesque ebullition of ungovernable gaiety was not perceived by dr. johnson, who faced the fire, with his back to the performer and the instrument. but the amusement which such an unlooked for exhibition caused to the party, was momentary; for dr. burney, shocked lest the poor signor should observe, and be hurt by this mimicry, glided gently round to mrs. thrale, and, with something between pleasantness and severity, whispered to her, 'because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the attention of all who, in that one point, are otherwise gifted?' "it was now that shone the brightest attribute of mrs. thrale, sweetness of temper. she took this rebuke with a candour, and a sense of its justice the most amiable: she nodded her approbation of the admonition; and, returning to her chair, quietly sat down, as she afterwards said, like a pretty little miss, for the remainder of one of the most humdrum evenings that she had ever passed. "strange, indeed, strange and most strange, the event considered, was this opening intercourse between mrs. thrale and signor piozzi. little could she imagine that the person she was thus called away from holding up to ridicule, would become, but a few years afterwards, the idol of her fancy and the lord of her destiny! and little did the company present imagine, that this burlesque scene was but the first of a drama the most extraordinary of real life, of which these two persons were to be the hero and heroine: though, when the catastrophe was known, this incident, witnessed by so many, was recollected and repeated from coterie to coterie throughout london, with comments and sarcasms of endless variety."[ ] [footnote : memoirs of dr. burney, &c., vol. ii, pp. -- .] madame d'arblay mentioned the same circumstance in conversation to the rev. w. harness: yet it seems strange in connection with an entry in "thraliana" from which it would appear that her friend was far from wanting in susceptibility to sweet sounds: " _august_, .--piozzi is become a prodigious favourite with me, he is so intelligent a creature, so discerning, one can't help wishing for his good opinion; his singing surpasses everybody's for taste, tenderness, and true elegance; his hand on the forte piano too is so soft, so sweet, so delicate, every tone goes to the heart, i think, and fills the mind with emotions one would not be without, though inconvenient enough sometimes. he wants nothing from us: he comes for his health he says: i see nothing ail the man but pride. the newspapers yesterday told what all the musical folks gained, and set piozzi down _l_. o' year." on the th august, , madame d'arblay writes: "i have not seen piozzi: he left me your letter, which indeed is a charming one, though its contents puzzled me much whether to make me sad or merry." mrs. thrale was still at brighton; so that the scene at dr. burney's must have occurred subsequently; when she had already begun to find piozzi what the neapolitan ladies understand by _simpatico_. madame d'arblay's "memoirs," as i shall have occasion to point out, are by no means so trustworthy a register of dates, facts, or impressions as her "diary." whilst thrale lived, mrs. thrale's regard for piozzi was certainly not of a nature to cause scandal or provoke censure, and as it ripened into love, it may be traced, step by step, from the frankest and fullest of all possible unveilings of the heart. rare indeed are the instances in which such revelations as we find in "thraliana" could be risked by either man or woman, without giving scope to malevolence; and they should not only be judged as a whole and by the context, but the most favourable construction should be put upon them. when, in this sort of self-communing, every passing emotion, every transitory inclination, is set down, it would be unfair and even foolish to infer that the emotion at once became a passion, or that the inclination was criminally indulged. the next notice of piozzi occurs in madame d'arblay's "diary" for july th, : "you will believe i was not a little surprised to see sacchini. he is going to the continent with piozzi, and mrs. thrale invited them both to spend the last day at streatham, and from hence proceed to margate.... the first song he sang, beginning 'en quel amabil volto,' you may perhaps know, but i did not; it is a charming mezza bravura. he and piozzi then sung together the duet of the 'amore soldato;' and nothing could be much more delightful; piozzi taking pains to sing his very best, and sacchini, with his soft but delicious whisper, almost thrilling me by his exquisite and pathetic expression. they then went through that opera, great part of 'creso,' some of 'erifile,' and much of 'rinaldo.'" piozzi's attentions had attracted johnson's notice without troubling his peace. on november th, , he wrote from ashbourne: "piozzi, i find, is coming in spite of miss harriet's prediction, or second sight, and when _he_ comes and _i_ come, you will have two about you that love you; and i question if either of us heartily care how few more you have. but how many soever they may be, i hope you keep your kindness for me, and i have a great mind to have queeny's kindness too." again, december rd, : "you have got piozzi again, notwithstanding pretty harriet's dire denunciations. the italian translation which he has brought, you will find no great accession to your library, for the writer seems to understand very little english. when we meet we can compare some passages. pray contrive a multitude of good things for us to do when we meet. something that may _hold all together_; though if any thing makes _me_ love you more, it is going from you." we learn from "thraliana," that the entanglement with piozzi was not the only one of which streatham was contemporaneously the scene: "_august,_ .--i begin to wish in good earnest that miss burney should make impression on mr. crutchley. i think she honestly loves the man, who in his turn appears to be in love with some one else--hester, i fear, oh! that would indeed be unlucky! people have said so a long while, but i never thought it till now; young men and women will always be serving one so, to be sure, if they live at all together, but i depended on burney keeping him steady to herself. queeny behaves like an angel about it. mr. johnson says the name of crutchley comes from _croix lea_, the cross meadow; _lea_ is a meadow, i know, and _crutch_, a crutch stick, is so called from having the handle go _crosswise_." "_september,_ .--my five fair daughters too! i have so good a pretence to wish for long life to see them settled. like the old fellow in 'lucian,' one is never at a loss for an excuse. they are five lovely creatures to be sure, but they love not me. is it my fault or theirs?" "_ th october_, .--yesterday was my wedding-day; it was a melancholy thing to me to pass it without the husband of my youth. "'long tedious years may neither moan, sad, deserted, and alone; may neither long condemned to stay wait the second bridal day!!!'[ ] "let me thank god for my children, however, my fortune, and my friends, and be contented if i cannot be happy." [footnote : _note by mrs. t._: "samuel wesley's verses, making part of an epithalamium."] "_ th october_, .--my maid margaret rice dreamed last night that my eldest daughter was going to be married to mr. crutchley, but that mr. thrale _himself_ prevented her. an odd thing to me, who think mr. crutchley is his son." although the next day but one after thrale's death johnson carried boswell to dine at the queen's arms' club, his grief was deep and durable. indeed, it is expressed so often and so earnestly as to rebut the presumption that "my mistress" was the sole or chief tie which bound him to streatham. amongst his prayers and meditations is the following: "_good friday, april th_, .--on wednesday, th, was buried my dear friend thrale, who died on wednesday, th; and with him were buried many of my hopes and pleasures. about five, i think, on wednesday morning, he expired. i felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect or benignity. farewell. may god, that delighteth in mercy, have had mercy on thee! i had constantly prayed for him some time before his death. the decease of him, from whose friendship i had obtained many opportunities of amusement, and to whom i turned my thoughts as to a refuge from misfortunes, has left me heavy. but my business is with myself." on the same paper is a note: "my first knowledge of thrale was in . i enjoyed his favours for almost a fourth part of my life." on the th march, , he wrote thus to langton: "of my life, from the time we parted, the history is mournful. the spring of last year deprived me of thrale, a man whose eye for fifteen years had scarcely been turned upon me but with respect or tenderness; for such another friend, the general course of human things will not suffer man to hope. i passed the summer at streatham, but there was no thrale; and having idled away the summer with a weakly body and neglected mind, i made a journey to staffordshire on the edge of winter. the season was dreary, i was sickly, and found the friends sickly whom i went to see." there is ample evidence that he neither felt nor suspected any diminution of kindness or regard, and continued, till their final departure from streatham, to treat it as his home. in november she writes, "do not forget streatham and its inhabitants, who are all much yours;" and he replies: "birmingham, dec. th, . "dear madam,--i am come to this place on my way to london and to streatham. i hope to be in london on tuesday or wednesday, and streatham on thursday, by your kind conveyance. i shall have nothing to relate either wonderful or delightful. but remember that you sent me away, and turned me out into the world, and you must take the chance of finding me better or worse. this you may know at present, that my affection for you is not diminished, and my expectation from you is increased. do not neglect me, nor relinquish me. nobody will ever love you better or honour you more." "feb. th, . "dearest lady,--i am better, but not yet well; but hope springs eternal. as soon as i can think myself not troublesome, you may be sure of seeing me, _for such a place to visit nobody ever had_. dearest madam, do not think me worse than i am; be sure, at least, that whatever happens to me, i am with all the regard that admiration of excellence and gratitude for kindness can excite, madam, your" &c. in "thraliana": "_ rd february, (harley street)_.--the truth is, mr. johnson has some occult disorder that i cannot understand; jebb and bromfield fancy it is water between the heart and pericardium--i do not think it is _that_, but i do not know what it is. he apprehends no danger himself, and he knows more of the matter than any of them all." on february th, , he writes to malone: "i have for many weeks been so much out of order, that i have gone out only in a coach to mrs. thrale's, where i can use all the freedom that sickness requires." on march th, , to mrs. grastrell and mrs. aston: "when dr. falconer saw me, i was at home only by accident, for i lived much with mrs. thrale, and had all the care from her that she could take or could be taken." april th, , to mrs. thrale: "madam,--i have been very much out of order since you sent me away; but why should i tell you, who do not care, nor desire to know? i dined with mr. paradise on monday, with the bishop of st. asaph yesterday, with the bishop of chester i dine to-day, and with the academy on saturday, with mr. hoole on monday, and with mrs. garrick on thursday, the nd of may, and then--what care you? _what then_? "the news run, that we have taken seventeen french transports; that langton's lady is lying down with her eighth child, all alive; and mrs. carter's miss sharpe is going to marry a schoolmaster sixty-two years old. "do not let mr. piozzi nor any body else put me quite out of your head, and do not think that any body will love you like your" &c. "april th, . "mrs. sheridan refused to sing, at the duchess of devonshire's request, a song to the prince of wales. they pay for the theatre neither principal nor interest; and poor garrick's funeral expenses are yet unpaid, though the undertaker is broken. could you have a better purveyor for a little scandal? but i wish i was at streatham. i beg miss to come early, and i may perhaps reward you with more mischief." she went to streatham on the th april, , and johnson evidently with her. in "thraliana" she writes: "_saturday, th may, ._--to-day i bring home to streatham my poor dr. johnson: he went to town a week ago by the way of amusing himself, and got so very ill that i thought i should never get him home alive,"--by _home_ meaning streatham. johnson to mrs. thrale: "june th, . "this day i dined upon skate, pudding, goose, and your asparagus, and could have eaten more, but was prudent. pray for me, dear madam; i hope the tide has turned. the change that i feel is more than i durst have hoped, or than i thought possible; but there has not yet passed a whole day, and i may rejoice perhaps too soon. come and see me, and when you think best, upon due consideration, take me away." from her to him: "streatham, june th, . "dear sir,--i am glad you confess yourself peevish, for confession must precede amendment. do not study to be more unhappy than you are, and if you can eat and sleep well, do not be frighted, for there can be no real danger. are you acquainted with dr. lee, the master of baliol college? and are you not delighted with his gaiety of manners and youthful vivacity now that he is eighty-six years old? i never heard a more perfect or excellent pun than his, when some one told him how, in a late dispute among the privy counsellors, the lord chancellor (thurlow) struck the table with such violence that he split it. 'no, no,' replied the master, drily, 'i can hardly persuade myself that he _split the table_, though i believe he _divided the board_.' will you send me anything better from oxford than this? for there must be no more fastidiousness now; no more refusing to laugh at a good quibble, when you so loudly profess the want of amusement and the necessity of diversion." from him to her: "oxford, june th, . "oxford has done, i think, what for the present it can do, and i am going slyly to take a place in the coach for wednesday, and you or my sweet queeny will fetch me on thursday, and see what you can make of me." hannah more met him during this visit to oxford, and writes, june th, : "who do you think is my principal cicerone at oxford? only dr. johnson! and we do so gallant it about." madame d'arblay, then at streatham, writes, june th, : "dr. johnson, who had been in town some days, returned, and mr. crutchley came also, as well as my father." after describing some lively conversation, she adds: "i have _very often_, though i mention them not, long and melancholy discourses with dr. johnson, about our dear deceased master, whom, indeed, he regrets unceasingly; but i love not to dwell on subjects of sorrow when i can drive them away, especially to you (her sister), upon this account as you were so much a stranger to that excellent friend, whom you only lamented for the sake of those who survived him." he had only returned that very day, and she had been absent from streatham, as she states elsewhere, till "the cecilian business was arranged," _i.e._ till the end of may. on the th august, (this date is material) johnson writes to boswell: "dear sir,--being uncertain whether i should have any call this autumn into the country, i did not immediately answer your kind letter. i have no call; but if you desire to meet me at ashbourne, i believe i can come thither; if you had rather come to london, i can stay at streatham: take your choice." this was two days after mrs. thrale, with his full concurrence, had made up her mind to let streatham. he treats it, notwithstanding, as at his disposal for a residence so long as she remains in it. the books and printed letters from which most of these extracts are taken, have been all along accessible to her assailants. those from "thraliana," which come next, are new: "_ th november_, .--i have got my piozzi[ ] home at last; he looks thin and battered, but always kindly upon me, i think. he brought me an italian sonnet written in his praise by marco capello, which i instantly translated of course; but he, prudent creature, insisted on my burning it, as he said it would inevitably get about the town how _he_ was praised, and how mrs. thrale translated and echoed the praises, so that, says he, i shall be torn in pieces, and you will have some _infamità_ said of you that will make you hate the sight of me. he was so earnest with me that i could not resist, so burnt my sonnet, which was actually very pretty; and now i repent i did not first write it into the thraliana. over leaf, however, shall go the translation, which happens to be done very closely, and the last stanza is particularly exact. i must put it down while i remember it: . "'favoured of britain's pensive sons, though still thy name be found, though royal thames where'er he runs returns the flattering sound, . though absent thou, on every joy her gloom privation flings, and pleasure, pining for employ, now droops her nerveless wings, . yet since kind fates thy voice restore to charm our land again[ ],-- return not to their rocky shore, nor tempt the angry main. . nor is their praise of so much worth, nor is it justly given, that angels sing to them on earth who slight the road to heaven.' "he tells me--piozzi does--that his own country manners greatly disgusted him, after having been used to ours; but milan is a comfortable place, i find. if he does not fix himself for life here, he will settle to lay his bones at milan. the marquis d'araciel, his friend and patron, who resides there, divides and disputes his heart with me: i shall be loth to resign it." [footnote : this mode of expression did not imply then what it might now. see _ante_, p. , where johnson writes to "my baretti."] [footnote : "capello is a venetian poet."] "_ th december, ._--dear mr. johnson is at last returned; he has been a vast while away to see his country folks at litchfield. my fear is lest he should grow paralytick,--there are really some symptoms already discoverable, i think, about the mouth particularly. he will drive the gout away so when it comes, and it must go _somewhere_. queeny works hard with him at the classicks; i hope she will be _out_ of leading-strings at least before he gets _into_ them, as poor women say of their children." "_ st january, ._--let me not, while censuring the behaviour of others, however, give cause of censure by my own. i am beginning a new year in a new character. may it be worn decently yet lightly! i wish not to be rigid and fright my daughters by too much severity. i will not be wild and give them reason to lament the levity of my life. resolutions, however, are vain. to pray for god's grace is the sole way to obtain it--'strengthen thou, o lord, my virtue and my understanding, preserve me from temptation, and acquaint me with myself; fill my heart with thy love, restrain it by thy fear, and keep my soul's desires fixed wholly on that place where only true joys are to be found, through jesus christ our lord,--amen.'" _january_, .--(after stating her fear of illness and other ills.) "_if_ nothing of all these misfortunes, however, befall one; _if_ for my sins god should take from me my monitor, my friend, my inmate, my dear doctor johnson; _if_ neither i should marry, nor the brewhouse people break; _if_ the ruin of the nation should not change the situation of affairs so that one could not receive regular remittances from england: and _if_ piozzi should not pick him up a wife and fix his abode in this country,--_if_, therefore, and _if_ and _if_ and _if_ again all should conspire to keep my present resolution warm, i certainly would, at the close of the four years from the sale of the southwark estate, set out for italy, with my two or three eldest girls, and see what the world could show me." in a marginal note, she adds: "travelling with mr. johnson _i_ cannot bear, and leaving him behind _he_ could not bear, so his life or death must determine the execution or laying aside my schemes. i wish it were within reason to _hope_ he could live four years." "_streatham, th january_, .--i have taken a house in harley street for these three months next ensuing, and hope to have some society,--not company tho': crowds are out of the question, but people will not come hither on short days, and 'tis too dull to live all alone so. the world will watch me at first, and think i come o' husband-hunting for myself or my fair daughters, but when i have behaved prettily for a while, they will change their mind." "_harley street, th january_, .--the first seduction comes from pepys. i had a letter to-day desiring me to dine in wimpole street, to meet mrs. montagu and a whole _army of blues_, to whom i trust my refusal will afford very pretty speculation ... and they may settle my character and future conduct at their leisure. pepys is a worthless fellow at last; he and his brother run about the town, spying and enquiring what mrs. thrale is to do this winter, what friends she is to see, what men are in her confidence, how soon she will be _married_, &c.; the brother dr.--the medico, as we call him--lays wagers about me, i find; god forgive me, but they'll make me hate them both, and they are no better than two fools for their pains, for i was willing to have taken them to my heart." "they say pacchierotti, the famous soprano singer, is ill, and _they say_ lady mary duncan, his frightful old protectress, has made him so by her _caresses dénaturées_. a little envy of the new woman, allegrante, has probably not much mended his health, for pacchierotti, dear creature, is envious enough. i was, however, turning over horace yesterday, to look for the expression _tenui fronte_[ ], in vindication of my assertion to johnson that low foreheads were classical, when the th ode of the first book of horace struck me so, i could not help imitating it while the scandal was warm in my mind: . "'he's sick indeed! and very sick, for if it is not all a trick you'd better look about ye. dear lady mary, prythee tell why thus by loving him too well you kill your pacchierotti? . nor sun nor dust can he abide, nor careless in a snaffle ride, the steed we saw him mount ill. _you_ stript him of his manly force, when tumbling headlong from his horse he pressed the plains of fonthill.[ ] . why the full opera should he shun? where crowds of critics smiling run, to applaud their allegrante. why is it worse than viper's sting, to see them clap, or hear her sing? surely he's envious, ain't he? . forbear his house, nor haunt his bed with that strange wig and fearful head, then, though he now so ill is, we o'er his voice again may doze, when, cover'd warm with women's clothes, he acts a young achilles.'" [footnote : insignem tenui fronte lycorida cyri torret amor-- but _tenuis_ is _small_ or _narrow_ rather than _low_. one of fielding's beauties, sophia western, has a low forehead: another, fanny, a high one.] [footnote : _note by mrs. t.:_ "fonthill, the seat of young beckford. they set him o' horseback, and he tumbled off."] "_ st february, ._--here is mr. johnson ill, very ill indeed, and--i do not see what ails him; 'tis repelled gout, i fear, fallen on the lungs and breath of course. what shall we do for him? if i lose _him_, i am more than undone; friend, father, guardian, confident!--god give me health and patience. what shall i do?" "_harley street, th april, ._--when i took off my mourning, the watchers watched me very exactly, 'but they whose hands were mightiest have found nothing:' so i shall leave the town, i hope, in a good disposition towards me, though i am sullen enough with the town for fancying me such an amorous idiot that i am dying to enjoy every filthy fellow. god knows how distant such dispositions are from the heart and constitution of h.l.t. lord loughboro', sir richard jebb, mr. piozzi, mr. selwyn, dr. johnson, every man that comes to the house, is put in the papers for me to marry. in good time, i wrote to-day to beg the 'morning herald' would say no more about me, good or bad." "_streatham, th april, ._--i am returned to streatham, pretty well in health and very sound in heart, notwithstanding the watchers and the wager-layers, who think more of the charms of their sex by half than i who know them better. love and friendship are distinct things, and i would go through fire to serve many a man whom nothing less than fire would force me to go to bed to. somebody mentioned my going to be married t'other day, and johnson was joking about it. i suppose, sir, said i, they think they are doing me honour with these imaginary matches, when, perhaps the man does not exist who would do me honour by marrying me! this, indeed, was said in the wild and insolent spirit of baretti, yet 'tis nearer the truth than one would think for. a woman of passable person, ancient family, respectable character, uncommon talents, and three thousand a year, has a right to think herself any man's equal, and has nothing to seek but return of affection from whatever partner she pitches on. to marry for love would therefore be rational in me, who want no advancement of birth or fortune, and _till i am in love_, i will not marry, nor perhaps then." "_ nd august, ._--an event of no small consequence to our little family must here be recorded in the 'thraliana.' after having long intended to go to italy for pleasure, we are now settling to go thither for convenience. the establishment of expense here at streatham is more than my income will answer; my lawsuit with lady salusbury turns out worse in the event and infinitely more costly than i could have dreamed on; _l._ is supposed necessary to the payment of it, and how am i to raise _l_.? my trees will (after all my expectations from them) fetch but _l_., the money lent perkins on his bond _l_., the hertfordshire copyholds may perhaps be worth _l_., and where is the rest to spring from? i must go abroad and save money. to show italy to my girls, and be showed it by piozzi, has long been my dearest wish, but to leave mr. johnson shocked me, and to take him appeared impossible. his recovery, however, from an illness we all thought dangerous, gave me courage to speak to him on the subject, and this day (after having been let blood) i mustered up resolution to tell him the necessity of changing a way of life i had long been displeased with. i added that i had mentioned the matter to my eldest daughter, whose prudence and solid judgment, unbiassed by passion, is unequalled, as far as my experience has reached; that she approved the scheme, and meant to partake it, though of an age when she might be supposed to form connections here in england--attachments of the tenderest nature; that she declared herself free and resolved to follow my fortunes, though perfectly aware temptations might arise to prevent me from ever returning--a circumstance she even mentioned herself. "mr. johnson thought well of the project, and wished me to put it early in execution: seemed less concerned at parting with me than i wished him: thought his pupil miss thrale quite right in forbearing to marry young, and seemed to entertain no doubt of living to see us return rich and happy in two or three years' time. he told hester in my absence that he would not go with me if i asked him. see the importance of a person to himself. i fancied mr. johnson could not have existed without me, forsooth, as we have now lived together for above eighteen years. i have so fondled him in sickness and in health. not a bit of it. he feels nothing in parting with me, nothing in the least; but thinks it a prudent scheme, and goes to his books as usual. this is philosophy and truth; he always said he hated a _feeler_.... "the persecution i endure from men too who want to marry me--in good time--is another reason for my desiring to be gone. i wish to marry none of them, and sir philip's teazing me completed my mortification; to see that one can rely on _nobody!_ the expences of this house, however, which are quite past my power to check, is the true and rational cause of our departure. in italy we shall live with twice the respect and at half the expence we do here; the language is familiar to me and i love the italians; i take with me all i love in the world except my two baby daughters, who will be left safe at school; and since mr. johnson cares nothing for the loss of my personal friendship and company, there is no danger of any body else breaking their hearts. my sweet burney and mrs. byron will perhaps think they are sorry, but my consciousness that no one _can_ have the cause of concern that johnson has, and my conviction that he has _no concern at all_, shall cure me of lamenting friends left behind." in the margin of this entry she has written, "i begin to see (now everything shows it) that johnson's connection with me is merely an interested one; he _loved_ mr. thrale, i believe, but only wished to find in me a careful nurse and humble friend for his sick and his lounging hours; yet i really thought he could not have _existed_ without _my conversation_ forsooth! he cares more for my roast beef and plum pudden, which he now devours too dirtily for endurance; and since he is glad to get rid of me, i'm sure i have good cause to desire the getting rid of him." no great stress should be laid on this ebullition of mortified self-love; but it occurs oddly enough at the very time when, according to lord macaulay, she was labouring to produce the very feeling that irritated her. "_august th_, .--he (piozzi) thinks still more than he says, that i shall give him up; and if queeney made herself more amiable to me, and took the proper methods--i suppose i should." "_ september_ , _streatham_.--and now i am going to leave streatham (i have let the house and grounds to lord shelburne, the expence of it eat me up) for three years, where i lived--never happily indeed, but always easily: the more so perhaps from the total absence of love and ambition-- "'else these two passions by the way might chance to show us scurvy play.'" ten days later (october st) she thus argues out the question of marriage: "now! that dear little discerning creature, fanny burney, says i'm in love with piozzi: very likely; he is so amiable, so honourable, so much above his situation by his abilities, that if "'fate had not fast bound her with styx nine times round her, sure musick and love were victorious.' but if he is ever so worthy, ever so lovely, he is _below me_ forsooth! in what is he below me? in virtue? i would i were above him. in understanding? i would mine were from this instant under the guardianship of his. in birth? to be sure he is below me in birth, and so is almost every man i know or have a chance to know. but he is below me in fortune: is mine sufficient for us both?--more than amply so. does he deserve it by his conduct, in which he has always united warm notions of honour with cool attention to oeconomy, the spirit of a gentleman with the talents of a professor? how shall any man deserve fortune, if he does not? but i am the guardian of five daughters by mr. thrale, and must not disgrace _their_ name and family. was then the man my mother chose for me of higher extraction than him i have chosen for myself? no,--but his fortune was higher.... i wanted fortune then, perhaps: do i want it now?--not at all; but i am not to think about myself; i married the first time to please my mother, i must marry the second time to please my daughter. i have always sacrificed my own choice to that of others, so i must sacrifice it again: but why? oh, because i am a woman of superior understanding, and must not for the world degrade myself from my situation in life. but if i _have_ superior understanding, let me at least make use of it for once, and rise to the rank of a human being conscious of its own power to discern good from ill. the person who has uniformly acted by the will of others has hardly that dignity to boast. "but once again: i am guardian to five girls; agreed: will this connection prejudice their bodies, souls, or purse? my marriage may assist _my_ health, but i suppose it will not injure _theirs_. will his company or companions corrupt their morals? god forbid; if i did not believe him one of the best of our fellow beings, i would reject him instantly. can it injure their fortunes? could he impoverish (if he would) five women, to whom their father left _ , l._ each, independent almost of possibilities?--to what then am i guardian? to their pride and prejudice? and is anything else affected by the alliance? now for more solid objections. is not the man of whom i desire protection, a foreigner? unskilled in the laws and language of our country? certainly. is he not, as the french say, _arbitre de mon sort?_ and from the hour he possesses my person and fortune, have i any power of decision how or where i may continue or end my life? is not the man, upon the continuance of whose affection my whole happiness depends, _younger_ than myself[ ], and is it wise to place one's happiness on the continuance of _any_ man's affection? would it not be painful to owe his appearance of regard more to his honour than his love? and is not my person, already faded, likelier to fade sooner, than his? on the other hand, is his life a good one? and would it not be lunacy even to risque the wretchedness of losing all situation in the world for the sake of living with a man one loves, and then to lose both companion and consolation? when i lost mr. thrale, every one was officious to comfort and to soothe me; but which of my children or quondam friends would look with kindness upon piozzi's widow? if i bring children by him, must they not be catholics, and must not i live among people the _ritual_ part of whose religion i disapprove? "these are _my_ objections, these _my_ fears: not those of being censured by the world, as it is called, a composition of vice and folly, though 'tis surely no good joke to be talked of "'by each affected she that tells my story, and blesses her good stars that _she_ was prudent.' "these objections would increase in strength, too, if my present state was a happy one, but it really is not. i live a quiet life, but not a pleasant one. my children govern without loving me; my servants devour and despise me; my friends caress and censure me; my money wastes in expences i do not enjoy, and my time in trifles i do not approve. every one is made insolent, and no one comfortable; my reputation unprotected, my heart unsatisfied, my health unsettled. i will, however, resolve on nothing. i will take a voyage to the continent in spring, enlarge my knowledge and repose my purse. change of place may turn the course of these ideas, and external objects supply the room of internal felicity. if he follow me, i may reject or receive at pleasure the addresses of a man who follows on _no explicit promise_, nor much probability of success, for i would really wish to marry no more without the consent of my children (such i mean as are qualified to give their opinions); and how should _miss thrales_ approve of my marrying _mr. piozzi_? here then i rest, and will torment my mind no longer, but commit myself, as he advises, to the hand of providence, and all will end _all' ottima perfezzione_. "written at streatham, st october, ." [footnote : _note by mrs. piozzi_: "he was half a year _older_ when our registers were both examined."] "_october, ._--there is no mercy for me in this island. i am more and more disposed to try the continent. one day the paper rings with my marriage to johnson, one day to crutchley, one day to seward. i give no reason for such impertinence, but cannot deliver myself from it. whitbred, the rich brewer, is in love with me too; oh, i would rather, as ann page says, be set breast deep in the earth[ ] and bowled to death with turnips. "mr. crutchley bid me make a curtsey to my daughters for keeping me out of a goal (_sic_), and the newspapers insolent as he! how shall i get through? how shall i get through? i have not deserved it of any of them, as god knows. "philip thicknesse put it about bath that i was a poor girl, a mantua maker, when mr. thrale married me. it is an odd thing, but miss thrales like, i see, to have it believed." [footnote : anne page says, "quick in the earth."] the general result down to this point is that, whatever the disturbance in mrs. thrale's heart and mind, johnson had no ground of complaint, nor ever thought he had, which is the essential point in controversy. in other words, he was not driven, hinted, or manoeuvred out of streatham. yet almost all his worshippers have insisted that he was. hawkins, after mentioning the kind offices undertaken by johnson (which constantly took him to streatham) says:--"nevertheless it was observed by myself, and other of johnson's friends, that soon after the decease of mr. thrale, his visits to streatham became less and less frequent, and that he studiously avoided the mention of the place or the family." this statement is preposterous, and is only to be partially accounted for by the fact that hawkins, as his daughter informs us, had no personal acquaintance with mrs. thrale or streatham. boswell, who was in scotland when johnson and mrs. thrale left streatham together, gratuitously infers that he left it alone, angry and mortified, in consequence of her altered manner: "the death of mr. thrale had made a very material alteration with respect to johnson's reception in that family. the manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her vanity had been fully gratified, by having the colossus of literature attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to please him. whether her attachment to him was already divided by another object, i am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that johnson's penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the th of october this year we find him making a 'parting use of the library' at streatham, and pronouncing a prayer which he composed on leaving mr. thrale's family. "'almighty god, father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that i may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and conveniences which i have enjoyed at this place; and that i may resign them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou givest, and when thou takest away. have mercy upon me, o lord! have mercy upon me! to thy fatherly protection, o lord, i commend this family. bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' "one cannot read this prayer without some emotions not very favourable to the lady whose conduct occasioned it. "the next day, he made the following memorandum: "'_october ._--i was called early. i packed up my bundles, and used the foregoing prayer, with my morning devotions somewhat, i think, enlarged. being earlier than the family, i read st. paul's farewell in the acts, and then read fortuitously in the gospels,--which was my parting use of the library.'" mr. croker, whose protest against the groundless insinuations of boswell should have put subsequent writers on their guard, states in a note:--"he seems to have taken leave of the kitchen as well as the church at streatham in latin." the note of his last dinner there, done into english, would run thus: "oct. th, sunday, . "i dined at streatham on boiled leg of lamb, with spinach, the stuffing of flour and raisins, round of beef, and turkey poult; and after the meat service, figs, grapes, not yet ripe in consequence of the bad season, with peaches, also hard. i took my place at table in no joyful mood, and partook of the food moderately, lest i should finish by intemperance. if i rightly remember, the banquet at the funeral of hadon came into my mind.[ ] when shall i revisit streatham?" [footnote : "si recte memini in mentem venerunt epulæ in exequiis hadoni celebratæ." i cannot explain this allusion.] the exclamation "when shall i revisit streatham?" loses much of its pathos when connected with these culinary details. madame d'arblay's description of the last year at streatham is too important to be much abridged: "dr. burney, _when the cecilian business was arranged_[ ], again conveyed the memorialist to streatham. no further reluctance on his part, nor exhortations on that of mr. crisp, sought to withdraw her from that spot, where, while it was in its glory, they had so recently, and with pride, seen her distinguished. and truly eager was her own haste, when mistress of her time, to try once more to soothe those sorrows and chagrins in which she had most largely participated, by answering to the call, which had never ceased tenderly to pursue her, of return. "with alacrity, therefore, though not with gaiety, they re-entered the streatham gates--but they soon perceived that they found not what they had left! "changed, indeed, was streatham! gone its chief, and changed his relict! unaccountably, incomprehensibly, indefinably changed! she was absent and agitated; not two minutes could she remain in a place; she scarcely seemed to know whom she saw; her speech was so hurried it was hardly intelligible; her eyes were assiduously averted from those who sought them; and her smiles were faint and forced." [footnote : this may mean when the arrangements were made for the publication, or when the book was published. it was published about the beginning of june, .] "the mystery, however, soon ceased; the solicitations of the most affectionate sympathy could not long be urged in vain;--the mystery passed away--not so the misery! that, when revealed, was but to both parties doubled, from the different feelings set in movement by its disclosure. "the astonishing history of the enigmatical attachment which impelled mrs. thrale to her second marriage, is now as well known as her name: but its details belong not to the history of dr. burney; though the fact too deeply interested him, and was too intimately felt in his social habits, to be passed over in silence in any memoirs of his life. "but while ignorant yet of its cause, more and more struck he became at every meeting, by a species of general alienation which pervaded all around at streatham. his visits, which, heretofore, had seemed galas to mrs. thrale, were now begun and ended almost without notice: and all others,--dr. johnson not excepted,--were cast into the same gulph of general neglect, or forgetfulness;--all,--save singly this memorialist!--to whom, the fatal secret once acknowledged, mrs. thrale clung for comfort; though she saw, and generously pardoned, how wide she was from meeting approbation. "in this retired, though far from tranquil manner, _passed many months; during which_, with the acquiescent consent of the doctor, his daughter, wholly devoted to her unhappy friend, _remained uninterruptedly at sad and altered streatham;_ sedulously avoiding, what at other times she most wished, a _tête-à-tête_ with her father. bound by ties indissoluble of honour not to betray a trust that, in the ignorance of her pity, she had herself unwittingly sought, even to him she was as immutably silent, on this subject, as to all others--save, singly, to the eldest daughter of the house: whose conduct, through scenes of dreadful difficulty, notwithstanding her extreme youth, was even exemplary; and to whom the self-beguiled, yet generous mother, gave full and free permission to confide every thought and feeling to the memorialist." * * * * * "various incidental circumstances began, at length, to open the reluctant eyes of dr. burney to an impelled, though clouded foresight, of the portentous event which might latently be the cause of the alteration of all around at streatham. he then naturally wished for some explanation with his daughter, though he never forced, or even claimed her confidence; well knowing, that voluntarily to give it him had been her earliest delight. "but in taking her home with him one morning, to pass a day in st. martin's street, he almost involuntarily, in driving from the paddock, turned back his head towards the house, and, in a tone the most impressive, sighed out: 'adieu, streatham!--adieu!'" * * * * * "_a few weeks earlier_, the memorialist had passed a nearly similar scene with dr. johnson. not, however, she believes, from the same formidable species of surmise; but from the wounds inflicted upon his injured sensibility, through the palpably altered looks, tone, and deportment, of the bewildered lady of the mansion; who, cruelly aware what would be his wrath, and how overwhelming his reproaches against her projected union, wished to break up their residing under the same roof before it should be proclaimed. "this gave to her whole behaviour towards dr. johnson, a sort of restless petulancy, of which she was sometimes hardly conscious, at others, nearly reckless; but which hurt him far more than she purposed, _though short of the point at which she aimed_, of precipitating a change of dwelling that would elude its being cast, either by himself or the world, upon a passion that her understanding blushed to own, even while she was sacrificing to it all of inborn dignity that she had been bred to hold most sacred. "dr. johnson, while still uninformed of an entanglement it was impossible he should conjecture, attributed her varying humours to the effect of wayward health meeting a sort of sudden wayward power: and imagined that caprices, which he judged to be partly feminine, _and partly wealthy_, would soberise themselves away in being unnoticed." "but at length, as she became more and more dissatisfied with her own situation, and impatient for its relief, she grew less and less scrupulous with regard to her celebrated guest: she slighted his counsel; did not heed his remonstrances; avoided his society; was ready at a moment's hint to lend him her carriage when he wished to return to bolt court; but awaited a formal request to accord it for bringing him back. "the doctor then began to be stung; his own aspect became altered; and depression, with indignant uneasiness, sat upon his venerable front. "it was at this moment that, finding the memorialist was going one morning to st. martin's street, he desired a cast thither in the carriage, and then to be set down at bolt court. "aware of his disturbance, and far too well aware how short it was of what it would become when the cause of all that passed should be detected, it was in trembling that the memorialist accompanied him to the coach, filled with dread of offending him by any reserve, should he force upon her any inquiry; and yet impressed with the utter impossibility of betraying a trusted secret. "his look was stern, though dejected, as he followed her into the vehicle; but when his eye, which, however short-sighted, was quick to mental perception, saw how ill at ease appeared his companion, all sternness subsided into an undisguised expression of the strongest emotion, that seemed to claim her sympathy, though to revolt from her compassion; while, with a shaking hand, and pointing finger, he directed her looks to the mansion from which they were driving; and, when they faced it from the coach window, as they turned into streatham common, tremulously exclaiming: 'that house ... is lost to _me_--for ever!' "during a moment he then fixed upon her an interrogative eye, that impetuously demanded: 'do you not perceive the change i am experiencing?' "a sorrowing sigh was her only answer. "pride and delicacy then united to make him leave her to her taciturnity. "he was too deeply, however, disturbed to start or to bear any other subject; and neither of them uttered a single word till the coach stopt in st. martin's street, and the house and the carriage door were opened for their separation! he then suddenly and expressively looked at her, abruptly grasped her hand, and, with an air of affection, though in a low, husky voice, murmured rather than said: 'good morning, dear lady!' but turned his head quickly away, to avoid any species of answer." "she was deeply touched by so gentle an acquiescence in her declining the confidential discourse upon which he had indubitably meant to open, relative to this mysterious alienation. but she had the comfort to be satisfied, that he saw and believed in her sincere participation in his feelings; while he allowed for the grateful attachment that bound her to a friend so loved; who, to her at least, still manifested a fervour of regard that resisted all change; alike from this new partiality, and from the undisguised, and even strenuous opposition of the memorialist to its indulgence." the memoirs of dr. burney, by his daughter, published in , together with her diary and letters, supplied the materials of lord macaulay's celebrated article on madame d'arblay in the "edinburgh review" for january, , since reprinted amongst his essays. he describes the memoirs as a book "which it is impossible to read without a sensation made up of mirth, shame, and loathing," and adds:--"the two works are lying side by side before us; and we never turn from the memoirs to the diary without a sense of relief. the difference is as great as the difference between the atmosphere of a perfumer's shop, scented with lavender water and jasmine soap, and the air of a heath on a fine morning in may."[ ] [footnote : critical and historical essays (one volume edition), , p. . the memoirs were composed between and , more than forty years after the occurrence of the scenes i have quoted from them.] the passages i have quoted amply establish the justice of this comparison, for they are utterly irreconcileable with the unvarnished statements of the diary; from which we learn that "cecilia" was published about the beginning of june, when johnson was absent from streatham; that the diarist had left streatham prior to august th, and did not return to it again that year. how could she have passed many months there after she was entrusted with the great secret, which (as stated in "thraliana") she only guessed in september or october? how again could johnson have attributed mrs. thrale's conduct to caprices "partly wealthy," when he knew that one main source of her troubles was pecuniary; or how can his alleged sense of ill-treatment be reconciled with his own letters? that he groaned over the terrible disturbance of his habits involved in the abandonment of streatham, is likely enough; but as the only words he uttered were, "that house is lost to _me_ for ever," and "good morning, dear lady," the accompanying look is about as safe a foundation for a theory of conduct or feeling as lord burleigh's famous nod in "the critic." the philosopher was at this very time an inmate of streatham, and probably returned that same evening to register a sample of its hospitality. at all events, we know that, spite of hints and warnings, sighs and groans, he stuck to streatham to the last; and finally left it with mrs. thrale, as a member of her family, to reside in her house at brighton, as her guest, for six weeks.[ ] to talk of conscious ill-treatment or wounded dignity, in the teeth of facts like these, is laughable. [footnote : the edinburgh reviewer says, "johnson went in oct. from streatham to brighton, where he lived a kind of boarding-house life;" and adds, "he was not asked out into company with his fellow-lodgers." the thrales had a handsome furnished house at brighton, which is mentioned both in the correspondence and autobiography. it is amusing enough to watch these attempts to shade away the ruinous effect of the brighton trip on lord macaulay's streatham pathos.] madame d'arblay joined the party as mrs. thrale's guest on the th october, and on the th she writes: "at dinner, we had dr. delap and mr. selwyn, who accompanied us in the evening to a ball; as did also dr. johnson, to the universal amazement of all who saw him there:--but he said he had found it so dull being quite alone the preceding evening, that he determined upon going with us: 'for,' he said, 'it cannot be worse than being alone.' strange that he should think so! i am sure i am not of his mind." on the th, she records that johnson behaved very rudely to mr. pepys, and fairly drove him from the house. the entry for november th is remarkable:--"we spent this evening at lady de ferrars, where dr. johnson accompanied us, for the first time he has been invited of our parties since my arrival." on the th november, she tells us that mrs. and the three miss thrales and herself got up early to bathe. "we then returned home, and dressed by candle-light, and, _as soon as we could get dr. johnson ready_, we set out upon our journey in a coach and a chaise, and arrived in argyll street at dinner time. mrs. thrale has there fixed her tent for this short winter, which will end with the beginning of april, when her foreign journey takes place." one incident of this brighton trip is mentioned in the "anecdotes": "we had got a little french print among us at brighthelmstone, in november , of some people skaiting, with these lines written under: 'sur un mince chrystal l'hyver conduit leurs pas, le precipice est sous la glace; telle est de nos plaisirs la légère surface, glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas.' "and i begged translations from every body: dr. johnson gave me this: 'o'er ice the rapid skater flies, with sport above and death below; where mischief lurks in gay disguise, thus lightly touch and quickly go.' "he was, however, most exceedingly enraged when he knew that in the course of the season i had asked half a dozen acquaintance to do the same thing; and said, it was a piece of treachery, and done to make every body else look little when compared to my favourite friends the _pepyses_, whose translations were unquestionably the best."[ ] [footnote : by sir lucas: "o'er the ice, as o'er pleasure, you lightly should glide, both have gulphs which their flattering surfaces hide." by sir william: "swift o'er the level how the skaiters slide, and skim the glitt'ring surface as they go: thus o'er life's specious pleasures lightly glide, but pause not, press not on the gulph below."] madame d'arblay's diary describes the outward and visible state of things at brighton. "thraliana" lays bare the internal history, the struggles of the understanding and the heart: "at brighthelmstone, whither i went when i left streatham, th october , i heard this comical epigram about the irish volunteers: "'there's not one of us all, my brave boys, but would rather do ought than offend great king george our good father; but our country, you know, my dear lads, is our _mother_, and that is a much surer side than the other.'" "i had looked ill, or perhaps appeared to feel so much, that my eldest daughter would, out of tenderness perhaps, force me to an explanation. i could, however, have evaded it if i would; but my heart was bursting, and partly from instinctive desire of unloading it--partly, i hope, from principle, too--i called her into my room and fairly told her the truth; told her the strength of my passion for piozzi, the impracticability of my living without him, the opinion i had of his merit, and the resolution i had taken to marry him. of all this she could not have been ignorant before. i confessed my attachment to him and her together with many tears and agonies one day at streatham; told them both that i wished i had two hearts for their sakes, but having only one i would break it between them, and give them each _ciascheduno la metà!_ after that conversation she consented to go abroad with me, and even appointed the place (lyons), to which piozzi meant to follow us. he and she talked long together on the subject; yet her never mentioning it again made me fear she was not fully apprized of my intent, and though her concurrence might have been more easily obtained when left only to my influence in a distant country, where she would have had no friend to support her different opinion--yet i scorned to take such mean advantage, and told her my story _now_, with the winter before her in which to take her measures--her guardians at hand--all displeased at the journey: and to console her private distress i called into the room to her my own bosom friend, my beloved fanny burney, whose interest as well as judgment goes all against my marriage; whose skill in life and manners is superior to that of any man or woman in this age or nation; whose knowledge of the world, ingenuity of expedient, delicacy of conduct, and zeal in the cause, will make her a counsellor invaluable, and leave me destitute of every comfort, of every hope, of every expectation. "such are the hands to which i have cruelly committed thy cause--my honourable, ardent, artless piozzi!! yet i should not deserve the union i desire with the most disinterested of all human hearts, had i behaved with less generosity, or endeavoured to gain by cunning what is withheld by prejudice. had i set my heart upon a scoundrel, i might have done virtuously to break it and get loose; but the man i love, i love for his honesty, for his tenderness of heart, his dignity of mind, his piety to god, his duty to his mother, and his delicacy to me. in being united to this man only can i be happy in this world, and short will be my stay in it, if it is not passed with him." "_brighthelmstone, th november _.--for him i have been contented to reverse the laws of nature, and request of my child that concurrence which, at my age and a widow, i am not required either by divine or human institutions to ask even of a parent. the life i gave her she may now more than repay, only by agreeing to what she will with difficulty prevent; and which, if she does prevent, will give her lasting remorse; for those who stab _me_ shall hear me groan: whereas if she will--but how can she?--gracefully or even compassionately consent; if she will go abroad with me upon the chance of his death or mine preventing our union, and live with me till she is of age-- ... perhaps there is no heart so callous by avarice, no soul so poisoned by prejudice, no head so feather'd by foppery, that will forbear to excuse her when she returns to the rich and the gay--for having saved the life of a mother thro' compliance, extorted by anguish, contrary to the received opinions of the world." "_brighthelmstone, th november, _.--what is above written, though intended only to unload my heart by writing it, i shewed in a transport of passion to queeney and to burney. sweet fanny burney cried herself half blind over it; said there was no resisting such pathetic eloquence, and that, if she was the daughter instead of the friend, she should be tempted to attend me to the altar; but that, while she possessed her reason, nothing should seduce her to approve what reason itself would condemn: that children, religion, situation, country, and character--besides the diminution of fortune by the certain loss of _l._ a year, were too much to sacrifice for any _one man_. if, however, i were resolved to make the sacrifice, _a la bonne heure!_ it was an astonishing proof of an attachment very difficult for mortal man to repay." "i will talk no more about it." what comes next was written in london: "_nov. , _.--i have given my piozzi some hopes--dear, generous, prudent, noble-minded creature; he will hardly permit himself to believe it ever can be--_come quei promessi miracoli_, says he, _che non vengono mai_. for rectitude of mind and native dignity of soul i never saw his fellow." "_dec. , _.--the guardians have met upon the scheme of putting our girls in chancery. i was frighted at the project, not doubting but the lord chancellor would stop us from leaving england, as he would certainly see no joke in three young heiresses, his wards, quitting the kingdom to frisk away with their mother into italy: besides that i believe mr. crutchley proposed it merely for a stumbling-block to my journey, as he cannot bear to have hester out of his sight. "nobody much applauded my resolution in going, but johnson and cator said they would not concur in stopping me by violence, and crutchley was forced to content himself with intending to put the ladies under legal protection as soon as we should be across the sea. this measure i much applaud, for if i die or marry in italy their fortunes will be safer in chancery than any how else. cator[ ] said _i_ had a right to say that going to italy would benefit the children as much as _they_ had to say it would _not_; but i replied that as i really did not mean anything but my own private gratification by the voyage, nothing should make me say i meant _their_ good by it; and that it would be like saying i eat roast beef to mend my daughters' complexions. the result of all is that we certainly _do go_. i will pick up what knowledge and pleasure i can here this winter to divert myself, and perhaps my _compagno fidele_ in distant climes and future times, with the recollection of england and its inhabitants, all which i shall be happy and content to leave _for him_." [footnote : _note by mrs. t.:_ "cator said likewise that the attorney's bill ought to be paid by the ladies as a bill of mr. thrale's, but i replied that perhaps i might marry and give my estate away, and if so it would be unjust that they should pay the bill which related to that estate only. besides, if i should leave it to hester, says i, ... why should susan and sophy and cecilia and harriet pay the lawyer's bill for their sister's land? he agreed to this plea, and i will live on bread and water, but i will pay norris myself. 'tis but being a better huswife in pins."] madame d'arblay writes, friday, december th, : "i dined with mrs. thrale and dr. johnson, who was very comic and good-humoured.... mrs. thrale, who was to have gone with me to mrs. orde's, gave up her visit in order to stay with dr. johnson. miss thrale, therefore, and i went together." i return to "thraliana": "_january_, .--a fit of jealousy seized me the other day: some viper had stung me up to a notion that my piozzi was fond of a miss chanon. i call'd him gently to account, and after contenting myself with slight excuses, told him that, whenever we married, i should, however, desire to see as little as possible of the lady _chez nous_." there is a large gap in "thraliana" just in the most interesting part of the story of her parting with piozzi in , and his recall. "_january , _.--adieu to all that's dear, to all that's lovely; i am parted from my life, my soul, my piozzi. if i can get health and strength to write my story here, 'tis all i wish for now--oh misery! [here are four pages missing.] the cold dislike of my eldest daughter i thought might wear away by familiarity with his merit, and that we might live tolerably together, or, at least, part friends--but no; her aversion increased daily, and she communicated it to the others; they treated _me_ insolently, and _him_ very strangely--running away whenever he came as if they saw a serpent--and plotting with their governess--a cunning italian--how to invent lyes to make me hate him, and twenty such narrow tricks. by these means the notion of my partiality took air, and whether miss thrale sent him word slily or not i cannot tell, but on the th january, , mr. crutchley came hither to conjure me not to go to italy; he had heard such things, he said, and by _means_ next to _miraculous_. the next day, sunday, th, fanny burney came, said i must marry him instantly or give him up; that my reputation would be lost else. "i actually groaned with anguish, threw myself on the bed in an agony which my fair daughter beheld with frigid indifference. she had indeed never by one tender word endeavoured to dissuade me from the match, but said, coldly, that if i _would_ abandon my children i _must_; that their father had not deserved such treatment from me; that i should be punished by piozzi's neglect, for that she knew he hated me; and that i turned out my offspring to chance for his sake, like puppies in a pond to swim or drown according as providence pleased; that for her part she must look herself out a place like the other servants, for my face would she never see more.' 'nor write to me?' said i. 'i shall not, madam,' replied she with a cold sneer, 'easily find out your address; for you are going you know not whither, i believe.' "susan and sophy said nothing at all, but they taught the two young ones to cry 'where are you going, mama? will you leave us and die as our poor papa did?' there was no standing _that_., so i wrote my lover word that my mind was all distraction, and bid him come to me the next morning, th january--my birthday--and spent the sunday night in torture not to be described. my falsehood to my piozzi, my strong affection for him, the incapacity i felt in myself to resign the man i so adored, the hopes i had so cherished, inclined me strongly to set them all at defiance, and go with him to church to sanctify the promises i had so often made him; while the idea of abandoning the children of my first husband, who left me so nobly provided for, and who depended on my attachment to his offspring, awakened the voice of conscience, and threw me on my knees to pray for _his_ direction who was hereafter to judge my conduct. his grace illuminated me, his power strengthened me, and i flew to my daughter's bed in the morning and told her my resolution to resign my own, my dear, my favourite purpose, and to prefer my children's interest to my love. she questioned my ability to make the sacrifice; said one word from him would undo all my--[here two pages are missing]. "i told dr. johnson and mr. crutchley three days ago that i had determined--seeing them so averse to it--that i would not go abroad, but that, if i did not leave england, i _would_ leave london, where i had not been treated to my mind, and where i had flung away much unnecessary money with little satisfaction; that i was greatly in debt, and somewhat like distress'd: that borrowing was always bad, but of one's children worst: that mr. crutchley's objection to their lending me their money when i had a mortgage to offer as security, was unkind and harsh: that i would go live in a little way at bath till i had paid all my debts and cleared my income: that i would no more be tyrannized over by people who hated or people who plundered me, in short that i would retire and save my money and lead this uncomfortable life no longer. they made little or no reply, and i am resolved to do as i declared. i will draw in my expenses, lay by every shilling i can to pay off debts and mortgages, and perhaps--who knows? i may in six or seven years be freed from all incumbrances, and carry a clear income of _l._ a year and an estate of _l._ in land to the man of my heart. may i but live to discharge my obligations to those who _hate me_; it will be paradise to discharge them to him who _loves me_." "_april, _.--i will go to bath: nor health, nor strength, nor my children's affections, have i. my daughter does not, i suppose, much delight in this scheme [viz, retrenchment of expenses and removal to bath], but why should i lead a life of delighting her, who would not lose a shilling of interest or an ounce of pleasure to save my life from perishing? when i was near losing my existence from the contentions of my mind, and was seized with a temporary delirium in argyll street, she and her two eldest sisters laughed at my distress, and observed to dear fanny burney, that it was _monstrous droll_. _she_ could hardly suppress her indignation. "piozzi was ill.... a sore throat, pepys said it was, with four ulcers in it: the people about me said it had been lanced, and i mentioned it slightly before the girls.' has he cut his own throat?' says miss thrale in her quiet manner. this was less inexcusable because she hated him, and the other was her sister; though, had she exerted the good sense i thought her possessed of, she would not have treated him so: had she adored, and fondled, and respected him as he deserved from her hands, and from the heroic conduct he shewed in january when he gave into her hands, that dismal day, all my letters containing promises of marriage, protestations of love, &c., who knows but she might have kept us separated? but never did she once caress or thank me, never treat him with common civility, except on the very day which gave her hopes of our final parting. worth while to be sure it was, to break one's heart for her! the other two are, however, neither wiser nor kinder; all swear by her i believe, and follow her footsteps exactly. mr. thrale had not much heart, but his fair daughters have none at all."[ ] [footnote : this is the very accusation they brought against her.] johnson was not called in to counsel on these matters of the heart, but he was not cast off or neglected. madame d'arblay lands him in argyll street on the th november, . we hear of him at mrs. thrale's house or in her company repeatedly from madame d'arblay and dr. lort. "johnson," writes dr. lort, january th, , "is much better. i saw him the other evening at madame thrale's in very good spirits." boswell says: "on friday, march , ( ) having arrived in london the night before, i was glad to find him at mrs. thrale's house, in argyle street, appearances of friendship between them being still kept up. i was shown into his room; and after the first salutation he said, 'i am glad you are come; i am very ill'.... "he sent a message to acquaint mrs. thrale that i was arrived. i had not seen her since her husband's death. she soon appeared, and favoured me with an invitation to stay to dinner, which i accepted. there was no other company but herself and three of her daughters, dr. johnson, and i. she too said she was very glad i was come; for she was going to bath, and should have been sorry to leave dr. johnson before i came. this seemed to be attentive and kind; and i, _who had not been informed of any change, imagined all to be as well as formerly_. he was little inclined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but when he joined us in the drawing-room he seemed revived, and was again himself." this is quite decisive so far as boswell is concerned, and disposes at once of all his preceding insinuations to her disadvantage. he had not seen her before since thrale's death; and now, finding them together and jealously scrutinising their tone and manner towards each, he imagined all to be as well as formerly.[ ] that they were on the point of living apart, and of keeping up their habitual interchange of mind exclusively by letters, is no proof that either was capriciously or irrecoverably estranged. [footnote : "now on march , , fifteen months before the marriage in question, boswell speaks of the severance of the old friendship as effected: 'appearances of friendship,' he says, 'were still maintained between them.' boswell was at feud with the lady when he wrote, as we all know. but his evidence is surely sufficient as to the fact of the rupture, though not as to its causes."--_(edin. rev._ p. .) boswell's concluding evidence, that to the best of his knowledge and observation, there was no change or rupture, is suppressed!] the pleasures of intimacy in friendship depend far more on external circumstances than people of a sentimental turn of mind are willing to concede; and when constant companionship ceases to suit the convenience of both parties, the chances are that it will be dropped on the first favourable opportunity. admiration, esteem, or affection may continue to be felt for one whom, from altered habits or new ties, we can no longer receive as an inmate or an established member of the family. johnson was now in his seventy-fourth year, haunted by the fear of death, and fond of dwelling nauseously on his ailments and proposed remedies. from what passed at brighton, it would seem that there were moods in which he was positively unbearable, and could not be received in a house without driving every one else out of it. in a roomy mansion like streatham he might be endured, because he could be kept out of the way; but in an ordinary town-house or small establishment, such a guest would resemble an elephant in a private menagerie. there is also a very great difference, when arrangements are to be made for the domestication of a male visitor, between a family with a male head, and one consisting exclusively of females. let any widow with daughters make the case her own, and imagine herself domesticated in argyll or harley street with the lexicographer. the manly authority of thrale was required to keep johnson in order quite as much as to steady the imputed flightiness of the lady; and his idolaters must really remember that she was a sentient being, with feelings and affections which she was fully entitled to consult in arranging her scheme of life. when lord macaulay and his school tacitly assume that these are to weigh as dust in the balance against the claims of learning, they argue like sundry upholders of the temporal sovereignty of the pope, who contend that his subjects should complacently endure any amount of oppression rather than endanger (what they deem) the vital interests of the church. when it is maintained that the discomfort was amply repaid by the glory he conferred, we are reminded of what the strasbourg goose undergoes for fame: "crammed with food, deprived of drink, and fixed near a great fire, before which it is nailed with its feet upon a plank, this goose passes, it must be owned, an uncomfortable life. the torment would indeed be intolerable, if the idea of the lot which awaits him did not serve as a consolation. but when he reflects that his liver, bigger than himself, loaded with truffles, and clothed in a scientific _patè_, will, through the instrumentality of m. corcellet, diffuse all over europe the glory of his name, he resigns himself to his destiny, and suffers not a tear to flow."[ ] [footnote : almanach des gourmands.] her case for a separation _de corps_ is thus stated in the "anecdotes ": "all these exactnesses in a man who was nothing less than exact himself, made him extremely impracticable as an inmate, though most instructive as a companion, and useful as a friend. mr. thrale too could sometimes overrule his rigidity, by saying coldly, 'there, there, now we have had enough for one lecture, dr. johnson, we will not be upon education any more till after dinner, if you please,'--or some such speech; but when there was nobody to restrain his dislikes, it was extremely difficult to find any body with whom he could converse, without living always on the verge of a quarrel, or of something too like a quarrel to be pleasing. i came into the room, for example, one evening, where he and a gentleman, whose abilities we all respected exceedingly, were sitting; a lady who had walked in two minutes before me had blown 'em both into a flame, by whispering something to mr. s----d, which he endeavoured to explain away, so as not to affront the doctor, whose suspicions were all alive. 'and have a care, sir,' said he, just as i came in; 'the old lion will not bear to be tickled.'[ ] the other was pale with rage, the lady wept at the confusion she had caused, and i could only say with lady macbeth, 'so! you've displaced the mirth, broke the good meeting with most admir'd disorder.' "such accidents, however, occurred too often, and i was forced to take advantage of my lost lawsuit, and plead inability of purse to remain longer in london or its vicinage. i had been crossed in my intentions of going abroad, and found it convenient, for every reason of health, peace, and pecuniary circumstances, to retire to bath, where i knew mr. johnson would not follow me, and where i could for that reason command some little portion of time for my own use; a thing impossible while i remained at streatham or at london, as my hours, carriage, and servants, had long been at his command, who would not rise in the morning till twelve o'clock perhaps, and oblige me to make breakfast for him till the bell rung for dinner, though much displeased if the toilet was neglected, and though much of the time we passed together was spent in blaming or deriding, very justly, my neglect of economy, and waste of that money which might make many families happy. the original reason of our connexion, his _particularly disordered health and spirits_[ ], had been long at an end, and he had no other ailments than old age and general infirmity, which every professor of medicine was ardently zealous and generally attentive to palliate, and to contribute all in their power for the prolongation of a life so valuable. "veneration for his virtue, reverence for his talents, delight in his conversation, and habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seventeen years, made me go on so long with mr. johnson; but the perpetual confinement i will own to have been terrifying in the first years of our friendship, and irksome in the last, nor could i pretend to support it without help, when my coadjutor was no more. to the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took to soothe or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted for the three political pamphlets, the new edition and correction of his dictionary, and for the poets' lives, which he would scarce have lived, i think, and kept his faculties entire, to have written, had not incessant care been exerted at the time of his first coming to be our constant guest in the country; and several times after that, when he found himself particularly oppressed with diseases incident to the most vivid and fervent imaginations. i shall for ever consider it as the greatest honour which could be conferred on any one, to have been the confidential friend of dr. johnson's health; and to have in some measure, with mr. thrale's assistance, saved from distress at least, if not from worse, a mind great beyond the comprehension of common mortals and good beyond all hope of imitation from perishable beings." [footnote : this must be the quarrel between johnson and seward at which miss streatfield cried. _(antè,_ p. .)] [footnote : these words are underlined in the manuscript.] this was written in italy in , when, painfully alive to the insults heaped upon her on johnson's account, she may be excused for dwelling on what she had endured for his sake. but if, as may be inferred from her statement, some of the cordiality shewn him during the palmy days of their intimacy was forced, this rather enhances than lessens the merit of her services, which thus become elevated into sacrifices. the question is not how she uniformly felt, but how she uniformly behaved to him; and the fact of her being obliged to retire to bath to get out of his way proves that there had been no rupture, no coolness, no serious offence given or taken on either side, up to april, ; just one year-and-a-half after the alleged expulsion from streatham. there were ample avowable reasons for her retirement, and no suspicion could have crossed johnson's mind that he was an incumbrance, or he would not have been found at her house by boswell, as he was found on the st march, , when she said "she was going to bath, and should have been sorry to leave dr. johnson before i came." considering the heart-rending struggle in which she was engaged at this time, with the aggravated infliction of an unsympathising and dogmatic friend, the wonder is how she retained her outward placidity at all. "_sunday morning, th april_, .--i have been very busy preparing to go to bath and save my money; the welch settlement has been examined and rewritten by cator's desire in such a manner that a will can revoke it or charge the estate, or anything. i signed my settlement yesterday, and, before i slept, wrote my will, charging the estate with pretty near _ l_. but what signifies it? my daughters deserve no thanks from my tenderness and they want no pecuniary help from my purse--let me provide in some measure, for my dear, my absent piozzi.--god give me strength to part with him courageously.--i expect him every instant to breakfast with me for the _last time_.--gracious heavens, what words are these! oh no, for mercy may we but meet again! and without diminished kindness. oh my love, my love! "we did meet and part courageously. i persuaded him to bring his old friend mecci, who goes abroad with him and has long been his confidant, to keep the meeting from being too tender, the separation from being too poignant--his presence was a restraint on our conduct, and a witness of our vows, which we renewed with fervour, and will keep sacred in absence, adversity, and age. when all was over i flew to my dearest, loveliest friend, my fanny burney, and poured all my sorrows into her tender bosom." "_bath, april th, ._--here i am, settled in my plan of economy, with three daughters, three maids and a man," &c. piozzi left england the night of the th may, . "come, friendly muse! some rhimes discover with which to meet my dear at dover, fondly to bless my wandering lover and make him dote on dirty dover. call each fair wind to waft him over, nor let him linger long at dover, but there from past fatigues recover, and write his love some lines from dover. too well he knows his skill to move her, to meet him two years hence at dover, when happy with her handsome rover she'll bless the day she din'd at dover." "_russell street, bath, thursday, th may_, .--i sent him these verses to divert him on his passage. dear angel! _this day_ he leaves a nation to which he was sent for my felicity perhaps, i hope for his own. may i live but to make him happy, and hear him say 'tis _me_ that make him so!"-- in a note on the passage in which he states that johnson studiously avoided all mention of streatham or the family after thrale's death, hawkins says:--"it seems that between him and the widow there was a formal taking of leave, for i find in his diary the following note: ' , april th, i took leave of mrs. thrale. i was much moved. i had some expostulations with her. she said she was likewise affected. i commended the thrales with great good will to god; may my petitions have been heard.'" this being the day before her parting interview with piozzi, no doubt she was much affected: and as the newspapers had already taken up the topic of her engagement, the expostulations probably referred to it. preceding commentators were not bound to know what is now learned from "thraliana"; but they were bound to know what might always have been learned from johnson's printed letters; and the tone of these from the separation in april, , to the marriage in july, , is identically the same as at any period of the intimacy which can be specified. there are the same warm expressions of regard, the same gratitude for acknowledged kindness, the same alternations of hope and disappointment, the same medical details, and the same reproaches for silence or fancied coldness, in which he habitually indulged towards all his female correspondents. shew me a complaint or reproach, and i will instantly match it with one from a period when the intimacy was confessedly and notoriously at its height. if her occasional explosions of irritability are to be counted, what inference is to be drawn from johnson's depreciatory remarks on her, and indeed on everybody, so carefully treasured up by hawkins and boswell? on june th, , he writes to her: "your last letter was very pleasing; it expressed kindness to me, and some degree of placid acquiescence in your present mode of life, _which is, i think, the best which is at present within your reach_. "my powers and attention have for a long time been almost wholly employed upon my health, i hope not wholly without success, but solitude is very tedious." she replies: "bath, june th, . "i believe it is too true, my dear sir, that you think on little except yourself and your own health, but then they are subjects on which every one else would think too--and that is a great consolation. "i am willing enough to employ all my thoughts upon _myself_, but there is nobody here who wishes to think with or about me, so i am very sick and a little sullen, and disposed now and then to say, like king david, 'my lovers and my friends have been put away from me, and my acquaintance hid out of my sight.' if the last letter i wrote showed some degree of placid acquiescence in a situation, which, however displeasing, is the best i can get at just now, i pray god to keep me in that disposition, and to lay no more calamity upon me which may again tempt me to murmur and complain. _in the meantime assure yourself of my undiminished kindness and veneration: they have been long out of accident's power either to lessen or increase."_.... "that _you_ should be solitary is a sad thing, and a strange one too, when every body is willing to drop in, and for a quarter of an hour at least, save you from a _tête-à-tête_ with yourself. i never could catch a moment when you were alone whilst we were in london, and miss thrale says the same thing." a few days afterwards, june th, he writes: "i am sitting down in no cheerful solitude to write a narrative which would once have affected you with tenderness and sorrow, but which you will perhaps pass over now with the careless glance of frigid indifference. for this diminution of regard, however, i know not whether i ought to blame you, who may have reasons which i cannot know, and i do not blame myself, who have for a great part of human life done you what good i could, and have never done you evil." two days before, he had suffered a paralytic stroke, and lost the power of speech for a period. after minutely detailing his ailments and their treatment by his medical advisers, he proceeds: "how this will be received by you i know not. i hope you will sympathise with me; but perhaps "my mistress gracious, mild, and good, cries! is he dumb? 'tis time he should. "but can this be possible? i hope it cannot. i hope that what, when i could speak, i spoke of you, and to you, will be in a sober and serious hour remembered by you; and surely it cannot be remembered but with some degree of kindness. i have loved you with virtuous affection; i have honoured you with sincere esteem. let not all our endearments be forgotten, but let me have in this great distress your pity and your prayers. _you see, i yet turn to you with my complaints as a settled and unalienable friend_; do not, do not drive me from you, for i have not deserved either neglect or hatred. "o god! give me comfort and confidence in thee; forgive my sins; and if it be thy good pleasure, relieve my diseases for jesus christ's sake. amen. _"i am almost ashamed of this querulous letter, but now it is written, let it go."_ the edinburgh reviewer quotes the first paragraph of this letter to prove johnson's consciousness of change on her side, and omits all mention of the passages in which he turns to her as "a settled and unalienable friend," and apologises for his querulousness! some time before (november ), she had written to him: "my health is growing very bad, to be sure. i will starve still more rigidly for a while, and watch myself carefully; but more than six months will i not bestow upon that subject; you shall not have in me a valetudinary correspondent, _who is always writing such letters, that to read the labels tied on bottles by an apothecary's boy would be more eligible and amusing_; nor will i live, like flavia in 'law's serious call,' who spends half her time and money on herself, with sleeping draughts, and waking draughts, and cordials and broths. my desire is always to determine against my own gratification, so far as shall be possible for my body to co-operate with my mind, and you will not suspect me of wearing blisters, and living wholly upon vegetables for sport. if that will do, the disorder may be removed; but if health is gone, and gone for ever, we will act as zachary pearce the famous bishop of rochester did, when he lost the wife he loved so--call for one glass to the health of her who is departed, never more to return--and so go quietly back to the usual duties of life, and forbear to mention her again from that time till the last day of it." instead of acting on the same principle, he perseveres in addressing his "ideal urania" as if she had been a consulting physician: "london, june th, . "dearest madam,--i think to send you for some time a regular diary. you will forgive the gross images which disease must necessarily present. dr. lawrence said that medical treatises should be always in latin. the two vesicatories did not perform well," &c. &c. "june , . "_your offer, dear madam, of coming to me, is charmingly kind_; but i will lay it up for future use, and then let it not be considered as obsolete; _a time of dereliction may come, when i may have hardly any other friend_, but in the present exigency i cannot name one who has been deficient in civility or attention. what man can do for man has been done for me. write to me very often." that the offer was serious and heartfelt, is clear from "thraliana": "_bath, june th_, .--a stroke of the palsy has robbed johnson of his speech, i hear. dreadful event! and i at a distance. poor fellow! a letter from himself, _in his usual style_, convinces me that none of his faculties have failed, and his physicians say that all present danger is over." he writes: "june th, . "both queeny's letter and yours gave me, to-day, great pleasure. think as well and as kindly of me as you can, but do not flatter me. cool reciprocations of esteem are the great comforts of life; hyberbolical praise only corrupts the tongue of the one, and the ear of the other." "june th, . "your letter is just such as i desire, and as from you i hope always to deserve." her own state of mind at this time may be collected from "thraliana": "_june, _ .--most sincerely do i regret the sacrifice i have made of health, happiness, and the society of a worthy and amiable companion, to the pride and prejudice of three insensible girls, who would see nature perish without concern ... were their gratification the cause. "the two youngest have, for ought i see, hearts as impenetrable as their sister. they will all starve a favourite animal--all see with unconcern the afflictions of a friend; and when the anguish i suffered on their account last winter, in argyll street, nearly took away my life and reason, the younger ridiculed as a jest those agonies which the eldest despised as a philosopher. when all is said, they are exceeding valuable girls--beautiful in person, cultivated in understanding, and well-principled in religion: high in their notions, lofty in their carriage, and of intents equal to their expectations; wishing to raise their own family by connections with some more noble ... and superior to any feeling of tenderness which might clog the wheels of ambition. what, however, is my state? who am condemned to live with girls of this disposition? to teach without authority; to be heard without esteem; to be considered by them as their superior in fortune, while i live by the money borrowed from them; and in good sense, when they have seen me submit my judgment to theirs at the hazard of my life and wits. oh, 'tis a pleasant situation! and whoever would wish, as the greek lady phrased it, to teize himself and repent of his sins, let him borrow his children's money, be in love against their interest and prejudice, forbear to marry by their advice, and then shut himself up and live with them."[ ] [footnote : after buckingham had been some time married to fairfax's daughter, he said it was like marrying the devil's daughter and keeping house with your father-in-law.] is it possible to misconstrue such a letter as the following from johnson to her, now that the querulous and desponding tone of the writer is familiar to us? "london, nov. th, . "dear madam,--since you have written to me with the attention and tenderness of ancient time, your letters give me a great part of the pleasure which a life of solitude admits. you will never bestow any share of your good-will on one who deserves better. those that have loved longest, love best. a sudden blaze of kindness may by a single blast of coldness be extinguished, but that fondness which length of time has connected with many circumstances and occasions, though it may for a while be suppressed by disgust or resentment, with or without a cause, is hourly revived by accidental recollection.[ ] to those that have lived long together, every thing heard and every thing seen recals some pleasure communicated, or some benefit conferred, some petty quarrel, or some slight endearment. esteem of great powers, or amiable qualities newly discovered, may embroider a day or a week, but a friendship of twenty years is interwoven with the texture of life. a friend may be often found and lost, but an _old friend_ never can be found, and nature has provided that he cannot easily be lost." [footnote : "yet, oh yet thyself deceive not: love may sink by slow decay, but by sudden wrench believe not hearts can thus be torn away."--byron.] the date of the following scene, as described by madame d'arblay in the "memoirs," is towards the end of november, : "nothing had yet publicly transpired, with certainty or authority, relative to the projects of mrs. thrale, who had now been nearly a year at bath[ ]; though nothing was left unreported, or unasserted, with respect to her proceedings. nevertheless, how far dr. johnson was himself informed, or was ignorant on the subject, neither dr. burney nor his daughter could tell; and each equally feared to learn. "scarcely an instant, however, was the latter left alone in bolt court, ere she saw the justice of her long apprehensions; for while she planned speaking upon some topic that might have a chance to catch the attention of the doctor, a sudden change from kind tranquillity to strong austerity took place in his altered countenance; and, startled and affrighted, she held her peace.... "thus passed a few minutes, in which she scarcely dared breathe; while the respiration of the doctor, on the contrary, was of asthmatic force and loudness; then, suddenly turning to her, with an air of mingled wrath and woe, he hoarsely ejaculated: 'piozzi!' "he evidently meant to say more; but the effort with which he articulated that name robbed him of any voice for amplification, and his whole frame grew tremulously convulsed. "his guest, appalled, could not speak; but he soon discerned that it was grief from coincidence, not distrust from opposition of sentiment, that caused her taciturnity. this perception calmed him, and he then exhibited a face 'in sorrow more than anger.' his see-sawing abated of its velocity, and, again fixing his looks upon the fire, he fell into pensive rumination. "at length, and with great agitation, he broke forth with: 'she cares for no one! you, only--you, she loves still!--but no one--and nothing else!--you she still loves----' "a half smile now, though of no very gay character, softened a little the severity of his features, while he tried to resume some cheerfulness in adding: 'as ... she loves her little finger!' "it was plain by this burlesque, or, perhaps, playfully literal comparison, that he meant now, and tried, to dissipate the solemnity of his concern. "the hint was taken; his guest started another subject; and this he resumed no more. he saw how distressing was the theme to a hearer whom he ever wished to please, not distress; and he named mrs. thrale no more! common topics took place, till they were rejoined by dr. burney, whom then, and indeed always, he likewise spared upon this subject." [footnote : about six months.] after quoting this description at length, lord brougham remarks: "now johnson was, perhaps unknown to himself, in love with mrs. thrale, but for miss burney's thoughtless folly there can be no excuse. and her father, a person of the very same rank and profession with mr. piozzi, appears to have adopted the same senseless cant, as if it were less lawful to marry an italian musician than an english. to be sure, miss burney says, that mrs. thrale was lineally descended from adam de saltsburg, who came over with the conqueror. but assuredly that worthy, unable to write his name, would have held dr. johnson himself in as much contempt as his fortunate rival, and would have regarded his alliance as equally disreputable with the italian's, could his consent have been asked."[ ] [footnote : lives of men of letters, &c, vol. ii.] if the scene took place at all, it must have taken place within a few days after the profession of satisfied and unaltered friendship contained in johnson's letter of november th. his next letter is to miss thrale: "nov. th, . "dear miss,--here is a whole week, and nothing heard from your house. baretti said what a wicked house it would be, and a wicked house it is. of you, however, i have no complaint to make, for i owe you a letter. still i live here by my own self, and have had of late very bad nights; but then i have had a pig to dinner, which mr. perkins gave me. thus life is chequered." on february th, , dr. lort writes to bishop percy: "poor dr. johnson has had a very bad winter, attended by heberden and brocklesby, who neither of them expected he would have survived the frost: that being gone, he still remains, and i hope will now continue, at least till the next severe one. it has indeed carried off a great many old people." johnson to mrs. thrale: "march th, . "your kind expressions gave me great pleasure; do not reject me from your thoughts. shall we ever exchange confidence by the fireside again?" he was so absorbed with his own complaints as to make no allowance for hers. yet her health was in a very precarious state, and in the autumn of the same year, his complaints of silence and neglect were suspended by the intelligence that her daughter sophia was lying at death's door. on march th, , she writes: "you tell one of my daughters that you know not with distinctness the cause of my complaints. i believe she who lives with me knows them no better; one very dreadful one is however removed by dear sophia's recovery. it is kind in you to quarrel no more about expressions which were not meant to offend; but unjust to suppose, i have not lately thought myself dying. let us, however, take the prince of abyssinia's advice, _and not add to the other evils of life the bitterness of controversy._ if courage is a noble and generous quality, let us exert it _to_ the last, and _at_ the last: if faith is a christian virtue, let us willingly receive and accept that support it will most surely bestow--and do permit me to repeat those words with which i know not why you were displeased: _let us leave behind us the best example that we can_. "all this is not written by a person in high health and happiness, but by a fellow-sufferer, who has more to endure than she can tell, or you can guess; and now let us talk of the severn salmons, which will be coming in soon; i shall send you one of the finest, and shall be glad to hear that your appetite is good." johnson to mrs. thrale: "april st, . "the hooles, miss burney, and mrs. hull (wesley's sister), feasted yesterday with me very cheerfully on your noble salmon. mr. allen could not come, and i sent him a piece, and a great tail is still left." "april th, . "mrs. davenant called to pay me a guinea, but i gave two for you. whatever reasons you have for frugality, it is not worth while to save a guinea a year by withdrawing it from a public charity." "whilst i am writing, the post has brought me your kind letter. do not think with dejection of your own condition: a little patience will probably give you health: it will certainly give you riches, and all the accommodations that riches can procure." up to this time she had put an almost killing restraint on her inclinations, and had acted according to johnson's advice in everything but the final abandonment of piozzi; yet boswell reports him as saying, may th: "sir, she has done everything wrong since thrale's bridle was off her neck." the next extracts are from "thraliana": "_bath, nov. th, ._--sophia will live and do well; i have saved my daughter, perhaps obtained a friend. they are weary of seeing me suffer so, and the eldest beg'd me yesterday not to sacrifice my life to her convenience. she now saw my love of piozzi was incurable, she said. absence had no effect on it, and my health was going so fast she found that i should soon be useless either to her or him. it was the hand of god and irresistible, she added, and begged me not to endure any longer such unnecessary misery. "so now we may be happy if we will, and now i trust _some_ [_(sic) query "no?_"] other cross accident will start up to torment us; i wrote my lover word that he might come and fetch me, but the alps are covered with snow, and if his prudence is not greater than his affection--my life will yet be lost, for it depends on his safety. should he come at my call, and meet with any misfortune on the road ... death, with accumulated agonies, would end me. may heaven avert such insupportable distress!" "_dec._ .--my dearest piozzi's miss chanon is in distress. i will send her _l_. perhaps he loved her; perhaps she loved _him_; perhaps both; yet i have and will have confidence in his honour. i will not suffer love or jealousy to narrow a heart devoted to _him_. he would assist her if he were in england, and _she_ shall not suffer for his absence, tho' i _do_. she and her father have reported many things to my prejudice; she will be ashamed of herself when she sees me forgive and assist her. o lord, give me grace so to return good for evil as to obtain thy gracious favour who died to procure the salvation of thy professed enemies. 'tis a good xmas work!" "_bath, jan. th_, .--on this day twelvemonths ... oh dreadfullest of all days to me i did i send for my piozzi and tell him we must part. the sight of my countenance terrified dr. pepys, to whom i went into the parlour for a moment, and the sight of the agonies i endured in the week following would have affected anything but interest, avarice, and pride personified, ... with such, however, i had to deal, so my sorrows were unregarded. seeing them continue for a whole year, indeed, has mollified my strong-hearted companions, and they _now_ relent in earnest and wish me happy: i would now therefore be _loath to dye_, yet how shall i recruit my constitution so as to live? the pardon certainly did arrive the very instant of execution--for i was ill beyond all power of description, when my eldest daughter, bursting into tears, bid me call home the man of my heart, and not expire by slow torture in the presence of my children, who had my life in their power. 'you are dying _now_,' said she. 'i know it,' replied i, 'and i should die in peace had i but seen him _once again_.' 'oh send for him,' said she, 'send for him quickly!' 'he is at milan, child,' replied i, 'a thousand miles off!' 'well, well,' returns she, 'hurry him back, or i myself will send him an express.' at these words i revived, and have been mending ever since. this was the first time that any of us had named the name of piozzi to each other since we had put our feet into the coach to come to bath. i had always thought it a point of civility and prudence never to mention what could give nothing but offence, and cause nothing but disgust, while they desired nothing less than a revival of old uneasiness; so we were all silent on the subject, and miss thrale thought him dead." according to the autobiography, the daughters did not conclusively relent till the end of april or the beginning of may, when a missive was dispatched for piozzi, and mrs. thrale went to london to make the requisite preparations. _mrs. thrale to miss f. burney_. "mortimer street, cavendish square, "tuesday night, may, . "i am come, dearest burney. it is neither dream nor fiction; though i love you dearly, or i would not have come. absence and distance do nothing towards wearing out real affection; so you shall always find it in your true and tender h.l.t. "i am somewhat shaken bodily, but 'tis the mental shocks that have made me unable to bear the corporeal ones. 'tis past ten o'clock, however, and i must lay myself down with the sweet expectation of seeing my charming friend in the morning to breakfast. i love dr. burney too well to fear him, and he loves me too well to say a word which should make me love him less." _journal (madame d'arblay's) resumed_. "may .--let me now, my susy, acquaint you a little more connectedly than i have done of late how i have gone on. the rest of that week i devoted almost wholly to sweet mrs. thrale, whose society was truly the most delightful of cordials to me, however, at times mixed with bitters the least palatable. "one day i dined with mrs. grarrick to meet dr. johnson, mrs. carter, miss hamilton, and dr. and miss cadogan; and one evening i went to mrs. vesey, to meet almost everybody,--the bishop of st. asaph, and all the shipleys, bishop chester and mrs. porteous, mrs. and miss ord, sir joshua reynolds and miss palmer, mrs. buller, all the burrows, mr. walpole, mrs. boscawen, mrs. grarrick, and miss more, and some others. but all the rest of my time i gave wholly to dear mrs. thrale, who lodged in mortimer street, and who saw nobody else. were i not sensible of her goodness, and full of incurable affection for her, should i not be a monster? * * * * * "i parted most reluctantly with my dear mrs. thrale, whom, when or how, i shall see again, heaven only knows! but in sorrow we parted--on _my_ side in real affliction." the excursion is thus mentioned in "thraliana": "_ th may_, .--here is the most sudden and beautiful spring ever seen after a dismal winter: so may god grant me a renovation of comfort after my many and sharp afflictions. i have been to london for a week to visit fanny burney, and to talk over my intended (and i hope approaching) nuptials, with mr. borghi: a man, as far as i can judge in so short an acquaintance with him, of good sense and real honour:--who loves my piozzi, _likes_ my conversation, and wishes to serve us sincerely. he has recommended duane to take my power of attorney, and cator's loss will be the less felt. duane's name is as high as the monument, and his being known familiarly to borghi will perhaps quicken his attention to our concerns. "dear burney, who loves me _kindly_ but the world _reverentially_, was, i believe, equally pained as delighted with my visit: ashamed to be seen in my company, much of her fondness for me must of course be diminished; yet she had not chatted freely so long with anybody but mrs. philips, that my coming was a comfort to her. we have told all to her father, and he behaved with the utmost propriety. "nobody likes my settling at milan except myself and piozzi; but i think 'tis nobody's affair but our own: it seems to me quite irrational to expose ourselves to unnecessary insults, and by going straight to italy all will be avoided." the crisis is told in "thraliana": "_ th june_, .--i sent these lines to meet piozzi on his return. they are better than those he liked so last year at dover: "over mountains, rivers, vallies, see my love returns to calais, after all their taunts and malice, ent'ring safe the gates of calais, while delay'd by winds he dallies, fretting to be kept at calais, muse, prepare some sprightly sallies to divert my dear at calais, say how every rogue who rallies envies him who waits at calais for her that would disdain a palace compar'd to piozzi, love, and calais." "_ th june_, .--he is set out sure enough, here are letters from turin to say so.... now the misses _must_ move; they are very loath to stir: from affection perhaps, or perhaps from art--'tis difficult to know.--oh 'tis, yes, it is from tenderness, they want me to go with them to see wilton, stonehenge, &c.--i _will_ go with them to be sure." "_ th june, sunday_.--we went to wilton, and also to fonthill; they make an admirable and curious contrast between ancient magnificence and modern glare: gothic and grecian again, however. a man of taste would rather possess lord pembroke's seat, or indeed a single room in it; but one feels one should live happier at beckford's.--my daughters parted with me at last prettily enough _considering_ (as the phrase is). we shall perhaps be still better friends apart than together. promises of correspondence and kindness were very sweetly reciprocated, and the eldest wished for piozzi's safe return very obligingly. "i fancy two days more will absolutely bring him to bath. the present moments are critical and dreadful, and would shake stronger nerves than mine! oh lord, strengthen me to do thy will i pray." "_ th june_.--i am not _yet sure of_ seeing him again--not _sure_ he lives, not _sure_ he loves me _yet_.... should anything happen now!! oh, i will not trust myself with such a fancy: it will either kill me or drive me distracted." "_bath, nd july_, .--the happiest day of my whole life, i think--yes, quite the happiest: my piozzi came home yesterday and dined with me; but my spirits were too much agitated, my heart was too much dilated. i was too _painfully_ happy _then_; my sensations are more quiet to-day, and my felicity less tumultuous." written in the margin of the last entry--"we shall go to london about the affairs, and there be married in the romish church." "_ th july_, .--i am returned from church the happy wife of my lovely faithful piozzi ... subject of my prayers, object of my wishes, my sighs, my reverence, my esteem.--his nerves have been horribly shaken, yet he lives, he loves me, and will be mine for ever. he has sworn, in the face of god and the whole christian church; catholics, protestants, all are witnesses." in one of her memorandum books she has set down: "we were married according to the romish church in one of our excursions to london, by mr. smith, padre smit as they called him, chaplain to the spanish ambassador.... mr. morgan tacked us together at st. james's, bath, th july, , and on the first day i think of september, certainly the first week, we took leave of england." when her first engagement with piozzi became known, the newspapers took up the subject, and rang the changes on the amorous disposition of the widow, and the adroit cupidity of the fortune-hunter. on the announcement of the marriage, they recommenced the attack, and people of our day can hardly form a notion of the storm of obloquy that broke upon her, except from its traces, which have never been erased. to this hour, we may see them in the confirmed prejudices of writers like mr. croker and lord macaulay, who, agreeing in little else, agree in denouncing "this miserable _més_alliance" with one who figures in their pages sometimes as a music-master, sometimes as a fiddler, never by any accident in his real character of a professional singer and musician of established reputation, pleasing manners, ample means, and unimpeachable integrity. the repugnance of the daughters to the match was reasonable and intelligible, but to appreciate the tone taken by her friends, we must bear in mind the social position of italian singers and musical performers at the period. "amusing vagabonds" are the epithets by which lord byron designates catalani and naldi, in [ ]; and such is the light in which they were undoubtedly regarded in . mario would have been treated with the same indiscriminating illiberality as piozzi. [footnote : "well may the nobles of our present race watch each distortion of a naldi's face; well may they smile on italy's buffoons, and worship catalani's pantaloons." "naldi and catalani require little notice; for the visage of the one and the salary of the other will enable us long to recollect these amusing vagabonds."--_english bards and scotch reviewers_. artists in general, and men of letters by profession, did not rank much higher in the fine world. (see miss berry's "england and france," vol. ii. p. .) a german author, non-noble, had a _liaison_ with a prussian woman of rank. on her husband's death he proposed marriage, and was indignantly refused. the lady was conscious of no degradation from being his mistress, but would have forfeited both caste and self-respect by becoming his wife.] did those who took the lead in censuring or repudiating mrs. piozzi, ever attempt to enter into her feelings, or weigh her conduct with reference to its tendency to promote her own happiness? could they have done so, had they tried? rarely can any one so identify himself or herself with another as to be sure of the soundness of the counsel or the justice of the reproof. she was neither impoverishing her children (who had all independent fortunes) nor abandoning them. she was setting public opinion at defiance, which is commonly a foolish thing to do; but what is public opinion to a woman whose heart is breaking, and who finds, after a desperate effort, that she is unequal to the sacrifice demanded of her? she accepted piozzi deliberately, with full knowledge of his character; and she never repented of her choice. the lady cathcart, whose romantic story is mentioned in "castle rackrent," was wont to say:--"i have been married three times; the first for money, the second for rank, the third for love; and the third was worst of all." mrs. piozzi's experience would have led to an opposite conclusion. her love match was a singularly happy one; and the consciousness that she had transgressed conventional observances or prejudices, not moral rules, enabled her to outlive and bear down calumny.[ ] [footnote : the _pros_ and _cons_ of the main question at issue are well stated in _corinne_: "ah, pour heureux,' interrompit le comte d'erfeuil, 'je n'en crois rien: on n'est heureux que par ce qui est convenable. la société a, quoi qu'on fasse, beaucoup d'empire sur le bonheur; et ce qu'elle n'approuve pas, il ne faut jamais le faire.' 'on vivrait done toujours pour ce que la société dira de nous,' reprit oswald; 'et ce qu'on pense et, ce qu'on sent ne servirait jamais de guide.' 'c'est très bien dit,' reprit le comte, 'très-philosophiquement pensé; mais avec ces maximes là, l'on se perd; et quand l'amour est passé, le blâme de l'opinion reste. moi qui vous paraîs léger, je ne ferai jamais rien qui puisse m'attirer la désapprobation du monde. on peut se permettre de petites libertés, d'aimables plaisanteries, qui annoncent de l'indépendance dans la manière d'agir; car, quand cela touche au sérieux.'--'mais le sérieux, repondit lord nelvil, 'c'est l'amour et le bonheur.'"--_corinne_, liv. ix. ch. .] in reference to these passages, the edinburgh reviewer remarks: "nothing can be more reasonable; and we should certainly live in a more peaceful (if not more entertaining) world, if nobody in it reproved another until he had so far identified himself with the culprit as to be sure of the justice of the reproof; perhaps, also, if a fiddler were rated higher in society than a duke without accomplishments, and a carpenter far higher than either. but neither reasoning nor gallantry will alter the case, nor prevail over the world's prejudice against unequal marriages, any more than its prejudices in favour of birth and fashion. it has never been quite established to the satisfaction of the philosophic mind, why the rule of society should be that 'as the husband, so the wife is,' and why a lady who contracts a marriage below her station is looked on with far severer eyes than a gentleman _qui s'encanaille_ to the same degree. but these things are so,--as the next dame of rank and fortune, and widow of an m.p., who, rashly relying on mr. hayward's assertion that the world has grown wiser, espouses a foreign 'professional,' will assuredly find to her cost, although she may escape the ungenerous public attacks which poor mrs. piozzi earned by her connexion with literary men." in they hanged for crimes which we should think adequately punished by a short imprisonment; as they hooted and libelled for transgressions or errors which, whatever their treatment by a portion of our society, would certainly not provoke the thunders of our press. i think (though i made no assertion of the kind) that the world has grown wiser; and the reviewer admits as much when he says that his supposititious widow "may escape the ungenerous public attacks which poor mrs. piozzi earned by her connexion with literary men." but where do i recommend unequal marriages, or dispute the claims of birth and fashion, or maintain that a fiddler should be rated higher than a duke without accomplishments, and a carpenter _far_ higher than either? all this is utterly beside the purpose; and surely there is nothing reprehensible in the suggestion that, before harshly reproving another, we should do our best to test the justice of the reproof by trying to make the case our own. goethe proposed to extend the self-same rule to criticism. one of his favourite canons was that a critic should always endeavour to place himself temporarily in the author's point of view. if the reviewer had done so, he might have avoided several material misapprehensions and misstatements, which it is difficult to reconcile with the friendly tone of the article or the known ability of the writer. envy at piozzi's good fortune sharpened the animosity of assailants like baretti, and the loss of a pleasant house may have had a good deal to do with the sorrowing indignation of her set. her meditated social extinction amongst them might have been commemorated in the words of the french epitaph: "ci git une de qui la vertu etait moins que la table encensée; on ne plaint point la femme abattue, mais bien la table renversée." which may be freely rendered: "here lies one who adulation by dinners more than virtues earn'd; whose friends mourned not her reputation-- but her table--overturned." madame d'arblay has recorded what took place between mrs. piozzi and herself on the occasion: _miss f. burney to mrs. piozzi_. "norbury park, aug. , . "when my wondering eyes first looked over the letter i received last night, my mind instantly dictated a high-spirited vindication of the consistency, integrity, and faithfulness of the friendship thus abruptly reproached and cast away. but a sleepless night gave me leisure to recollect that you were ever as generous as precipitate, and that your own heart would do justice to mine, in the cooler judgment of future reflection. committing myself, therefore, to that period, i determined simply to assure you, that if my last letter hurt either you or mr. piozzi, i am no less sorry than surprised; and that if it offended you, i sincerely beg your pardon. "not to that time, however, can i wait to acknowledge the pain an accusation so unexpected has caused me, nor the heartfelt satisfaction with which i shall receive, when you are able to write it, a softer renewal of regard. "may heaven direct and bless you! "f.b. "n.b. this is the sketch of the answer which f.b. most painfully wrote to the unmerited reproach of not sending _cordial congratulations_ upon a marriage which she had uniformly, openly, and with deep and avowed affliction, thought wrong." _mrs. piozzi to miss burney_. "'wellbeck street, no. , cavendish square. "'friday, aug. , . "'give yourself no serious concern, sweetest burney, all is well, and i am too happy myself to make a friend otherwise; quiet your kind heart immediately, and love my husband if you love his and your "'h.l. piozzi.' "n.b. to this kind note, f.b. wrote the warmest and most affectionate and heartfelt reply; but never received another word! and here and thus stopped a correspondence of six years of almost unequalled partiality, and fondness on her side; and affection, gratitude, admiration, and sincerity on that of f.b., who could only conjecture the cessation to be caused by the resentment of piozzi, when informed of her constant opposition to the union." if f.b. thought it wrong, she knew it to be inevitable, and in the conviction that it was so, she and her father had connived at the secret preparations for it in the preceding may. a very distinguished friend, whose masterly works are the result of a consummate study of the passions, after dwelling on the "impertinence" of the hostility her marriage provoked, writes: "she was evidently a very vain woman, but her vanity was sensitive, and very much allied to that exactingness of heart which gives charm and character to woman. i suspect it was this sensitiveness which made her misunderstood by her children." the justness of this theory of her conduct is demonstrated by the self-communings in "thraliana;" and she misunderstood them as much as they misunderstood her. by her own showing she had little reason to complain of what they _did_ in the matter of the marriage; it was what they said, or rather did not say, that irritated her. she yearned for sympathy, which was sternly, chillingly, almost insultingly withheld. in , she wrote thus to dr. gray: "what a good example have you set them (his children)! going to visit dear mama at twickenham--long may they keep their parents, pretty creatures! and long may they have sense to know and feel that no love is like parental affection,--the only good perhaps which cannot be flung away."[ ] [footnote : "we may have many friends in life, but we can only have one mother: a discovery, says gray, which i never made till it was too late."--rogers.] madame d'arblay states that her father was not disinclined to admit mrs. piozzi's right to consult her own notions of happiness in the choice of a second husband, had not the paramount duty of watching over her unmarried daughters interfered. but they might have accompanied her to italy as was once contemplated; and had they done so, they would have seen everything and everybody in it under the most favourable auspices. the course chosen for them by the eldest was the most perilous of the two submitted for their choice. the lady, miss nicholson, whom their mother had so carefully selected as their companion, soon left them; or according to another version was summarily dismissed by miss thrale (afterwards viscountess keith), who fortunately was endowed with high principle, firmness, and energy. she could not take up her abode with either of her guardians, one a bachelor under forty, the other the prototype of briggs, the old miser in "cæcilia." she could not accept johnson's hospitality in bolt court, still tenanted by the survivors of his menagerie; where, a few months later, she sate by his death-bed and received his blessing. she therefore called to her aid an old nurse-maid, named tib, who had been much trusted by her father, and with this homely but respectable duenna, she shut herself up in the house at brighton, limited her expenses to her allowance of _l._ a-year, and resolutely set about the course of study which seemed best adapted to absorb attention and prevent her thoughts from wandering. hebrew, mathematics, fortification, and perspective have been named to me by one of trusted friends as specimens of her acquirements and her pursuits. "there's a divinity that shapes our ends, rough-hew them how we may." in that solitary abode at brighton, and in the companionship of tib, may have been laid the foundation of a character than which few, through the changeful scenes of a long and prosperous life, have exercised more beneficial influence or inspired more genuine esteem. on coming of age, and being put into possession of her fortune, she hired a house in london, and took her two eldest sisters to live with her. they had been at school whilst she was living at brighton. the fourth and youngest, afterwards mrs. mostyn, had accompanied the mother. on the return of mr. and mrs. piozzi, miss thrale made a point of paying them every becoming attention, and piozzi was frequently dining with her. latterly, she used to speak of him as a very worthy sort of man, who was not to blame for marrying a rich and distinguished woman who took a fancy to him. the other sisters seem to have adopted the same tone; and so far as i can learn, no one of them is open to the imputation of filial unkindness, or has suffered from maternal neglect in a manner to bear out dr. burney's forebodings by the result. occasional expressions of querulousness are matters of course in family differences, and are seldom totally suppressed by the utmost exertion of good feeling and good sense. johnson's idolised wife was, at the lowest estimate, twenty-one years older than himself when he married her; and her sons were so disgusted by the connection, that they dropped the acquaintance. yet it never crossed his mind that "hetty" had as much right to please herself as "tetty." of the six letters that passed between him and mrs. piozzi on the subject of the marriage, only two (nos. and ) have hitherto been made public; and the incompleteness of the correspondence has caused the most embarrassing confusion in the minds of biographers and editors, too prone to act on the maxim that, wherever female reputation is concerned, we should hope for the best and believe the worst. hawkins, apparently ignorant that she had written to johnson, to announce her intention, says, "he was made uneasy by a report" which induced him to write a strong letter of remonstrance, of which what he calls an _adumbration_ was published in the "gentleman's magazine" for december . mr. croker, avoiding a similar error, says:--"in the lady's own (part) publication of the correspondence, this letter (no. ) is given as from mrs. piozzi, and is signed with the initial of her name: dr. johnson's answer is also addressed to mrs. piozzi, and both the letters allude to the matter as _done_; yet it appears by the periodical publications of the day, that the marriage did not take place until the th july. the editor knew not how to account for this but by supposing that mrs. piozzi, to avoid johnson's importunity, had stated that as done which was only _settled to be done_." the matter of fact is made plain by the circular (no. ) which states that "piozzi is coming back from italy." he arrived on july st, after a fourteen months' absence, which proved both his loyalty and the sincerity of the struggle in her own heart and mind. her letter (no. ) as printed, is not signed with the initial of her name; and both dr. johnson's autograph letters are addressed to _mrs. thrale_. but she has occasioned the mistake into which so many have fallen, by her mode of heading these when she printed the two-volume edition of "letters" in . by the kindness of mr. salusbury i am now enabled to print the whole correspondence, with the exception of her last letter, which she describes. no. . _mrs. piozzi to dr. johnson_. "bath, june . "my dear sir,--the enclosed is a circular letter which i have sent to all the guardians, but our friendship demands somewhat more; it requires that i should beg your pardon for concealing from you a connexion which you must have heard of by many, but i suppose never believed. indeed, my dear sir, it was concealed only to save us both needless pain; i could not have borne to reject that counsel it would have killed me to take, and i only tell it you now because all is irrevocably settled and out of your power to prevent. i will say, however, that the dread of your disapprobation has given me some anxious moments, and though perhaps i am become by many privations the most independent woman in the world, i feel as if acting without a parent's consent till you write kindly to "your faithful servant." no. . _circular_. "sir,--as one of the executors of mr. thrale's will and guardian to his daughters, i think it my duty to acquaint you that the three eldest left bath last friday ( th) for their own house at brighthelmstone in company with an amiable friend, miss nicholson, who has sometimes resided with us here, and in whose society they may, i think, find some advantages and certainly no disgrace. i waited on them to salisbury, wilton, &c., and offered to attend them to the seaside myself, but they preferred this lady's company to mine, having heard that mr. piozzi is coming back from italy, and judging perhaps by our past friendship and continued correspondence that his return would be succeeded by our marriage. "i have the honour to be, sir, your obedient servant. "bath, june , ." no. .[ ] [footnote : what johnson termed an "adumbration" of this letter appeared in the "gentleman's magazine" for dec. : "madam,--if you are already ignominiously married, you are lost beyond all redemption;--if you are not, permit me one hour's conversation, to convince you that such a marriage must not take place. if, after a whole hour's reasoning, you should not be convinced, you will still be at liberty to act as you think proper. i have been extremely ill, and am still ill; but if you grant me the audience i ask, i will instantly take a post-chaise and attend you at bath. pray do not refuse this favour to a man who hath so many years loved and honoured you."] "madam,--if i interpret your letter right, you are ignominiously married: if it is yet undone, let us _once_ more _talk_ together. if you have abandoned your children and your religion, god forgive your wickedness; if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your folly do no further mischief. if the last act is yet to do, i who have loved you, esteemed you, reverenced you, and _served you_[ ], i who long thought you the first of womankind, entreat that, before your fate is irrevocable, i may once more see you. i was, i once was, madam, most truly yours, "sam. johnson. "july , . "i will come down, if you permit it." [footnote : the four words which i have printed in italics are indistinctly written, and cannot be satisfactorily made out.] no. . "july , . "sir,--i have this morning received from you so rough a letter in reply to one which was both tenderly and respectfully written, that i am forced to desire the conclusion of a correspondence which i can bear to continue no longer. the birth of my second husband is not meaner than that of my first; his sentiments are not meaner; his profession is not meaner, and his superiority in what he professes acknowledged by all mankind. it is want of fortune, then, that is ignominious; the character of the man i have chosen has no other claim to such an epithet. the religion to which he has been always a zealous adherent will, i hope, teach him to forgive insults he has not deserved; mine will, i hope, enable me to bear them at once with dignity and patience. to hear that i have forfeited my fame is indeed the greatest insult i ever yet received. my fame is as unsullied as snow, or i should think it unworthy of him who must henceforth protect it. "i write by the coach the more speedily and effectually to prevent your coming hither. perhaps by my fame (and i hope it is so) you mean only that celebrity which is a consideration of a much lower kind. i care for that only as it may give pleasure to my husband and his friends. "farewell, dear sir, and accept my best wishes. you have always commanded my esteem, and long enjoyed the fruits of a friendship _never infringed by one harsh expression on my part during twenty years of familiar talk. never did i oppose your will, or control your wish; nor can your unmerited severity itself lessen my regard_; but till you have changed your opinion of mr. piozzi, let us converse no more. god bless you." no. . _to mrs. piozzi_. "london, july , . "dear madam,--what you have done, however i may lament it, i have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injurious to me: i therefore breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, perhaps useless, but at least sincere. "i wish that god may grant you every blessing, that you may be happy in this world for its short continuance, and eternally happy in a better state; and whatever i can contribute to your happiness i am very ready to repay, for that kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched. "do not think slightly of the advice which i now presume to offer. prevail upon mr. piozzi to settle in england: you may live here with more dignity than in italy, and with more security; your rank will be higher, and your fortune more under your own eye. i desire not to detail all my reasons, but every argument of prudence and interest is for england, and only some phantoms of imagination seduce you to italy. "i am afraid, however, that my counsel is vain, yet i have eased my heart by giving it. "when queen mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in england, the archbishop of st. andrew's, attempting to dissuade her, attended on her journey; and when they came to the irremeable stream[ ] that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness proportioned to her danger and his own affection pressed her to return. the queen went forward.--if the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther.--the tears stand in my eyes. "i am going into derbyshire, and hope to be followed by your good wishes, for i am, with great affection, "your, &c. "any letters that come for me hither will be sent me." [footnote : queen mary left the scottish for the english coast, on the firth of solway, in a fishing-boat. the incident to which johnson alludes is introduced in "the abbot;" where the scene is laid on the sea-shore. the unusual though expressive term "irremeable," is defined in his dictionary, "admitting no return." his authority is dryden's virgil: "the keeper dream'd, the chief without delay pass'd on, and took th' irremeable way." the word is a latin one anglicised: "evaditque celer ripam irremeabilis undæ."] in a memorandum on this letter, she says:--"i wrote him (no. ) a very kind and affectionate farewell." before calling attention to the results of this correspondence, i must notice a charge built upon it by the reviewer, with the respectable aid of the foul-mouthed and malignant baretti: "this letter is now printed for the first time by mr. hayward. but he has omitted to notice the light which is thrown on it by baretti's account of the marriage. that account is given in the 'european magazine' for . it is very circumstantial, and too long to transcribe, but the upshot is this: he says that, in order to meet her returning lover, she left bath with her daughters as for a journey to brighton; quitted them on some pretence at salisbury, and posted off to town, _deceiving dr. johnson, who continued to direct to her at bath as usual_.[ ] 'in london she kept herself concealed for some days in my parish, and not very far distant from my own habitation, ... in suffolk street, middlesex hospital.' 'in a _few weeks_,' he adds, 'she was in a condition personally to resort to mr. greenland (her lawyer) to settle preliminaries, then returned to bath with piozzi, and there was married.' now baretti was a libeller, _and not to be believed except upon compulsion_; but if he does speak the truth, then the date, 'bath, june ,' of her circular letter, is a mystification; so is the passage in her letter to johnson of july _ _, about 'sending it by the coach to prevent his coming.' of course she was mortally afraid of the doctor's coming, for if he had come he would have found her flown. according to this supposition, she did not return to bath at all, but remained perdue in london, with her lover, during the whole 'correspondence.' is it the true one? "we cannot but suspect that it is, and that the solution of the whole of this little domestic mystery is to be found in a passage in the 'autobiographical memoir,' vol. i. p. . there were _two_ marriages:-- "'miss nicholson went with us to stonehenge, wilton, &c., _whence i returned to bath_ to wait for piozzi. he was here on the eleventh day after he got dobson's letter. in twenty-six more we were married _in london_ by the spanish ambassador's chaplain, and returned hither to be married by mr. morgan, of bath, at st. james's church, july , .' "now in order to make this account tally with baretti's we must allow for a slight exertion of that talent for 'white lies' on the lady's part, of which her friends, johnson included, used half playfully and half in earnest to accuse her. and we are afraid baretti's story does appear, on the face of it, the more probable of the two. it does seem more likely, since they were to be married in london (of which baretti knew nothing), that she met piozzi secretly in london on his arrival, than that she performed the awkward evolutions of returning from salisbury to bath to wait for him there, then going to london in company with him to be married, and then back to bath to be married over again. but if this be so, then the london marriage most likely took place almost immediately on the meeting of the enamoured couple, and while the 'correspondence' was going on. in which case the words in the 'memoir' 'in twenty-six days,' &c., were apparently intended, by a little bit of feminine adroitness, to appear to apply to this first marriage,--of the suddenness of which she may have been ashamed,--while they really apply to the conclusion of the whole affair by the _second_. will any one have the croker-like curiosity to inquire whether any record remains of the dates of marriages celebrated by the spanish ambassador's chaplain?"[ ] [footnote : these words, italicised by the reviewer, contain the pith of the charge, which has no reference to her visit to london six weeks before.] [footnote : edinb. review, no. , p. .] why croker-like curiosity? was there anything censurable in the curiosity which led an editor to ascertain whether a novel like "evelina" was written by a girl of eighteen or a woman of twenty-six? but lord macaulay sneered at the inquiry[ ], and his worshippers must go on sneering like their model--_vitiis imitabile_. the certificate of the london marriage (now before me) shews that it was solemnised on the rd july, by a clergyman named richard smith, in the presence of three attesting witnesses. this, and the entries in "thraliana," prove baretti's whole story to be false. "now baretti was a libeller, and not to be believed except upon compulsion;" meaning, i suppose, without confirmatory evidence strong enough to dispense with his testimony altogether. he was notorious for his _black_ lies. yet he is believed eagerly, willingly, upon no compulsion, and without any confirmatory evidence at all. [footnote : the following passage is reprinted in the corrected edition of lord macaulay's essays:--"there was no want of low minds and bad hearts in the generation which witnessed her (miss burney's) first appearance. there was the envious kenrick and the savage wolcot; the asp george steevens and the polecat john williams. it did not, however, occur to them to search the parish register of lynn, in order that they might be able to twit a lady with having concealed her age. that truly chivalrous exploit was reserved for a bad writer of our own time, whose spite she had provoked by not furnishing him with materials for a worthless edition of boswell's life of johnson, some sheets of which our readers have doubtless seen round parcels of better books." there is reason to believe that the entry mr. croker copied was that of the baptism of an elder sister of the same name who died before the birth of the famous fanny.] the internal evidence of the improbability of the story has disappeared in the reviewer's paraphrase. baretti says that at salisbury "she suddenly declared that a letter she found of great importance demanded her immediate presence _in london_.... but johnson did not know the least tittle of this transaction, and he continued to direct his letters to bath as usual, expressing, no doubt, an immense wonder _at her pertinacious silence_." so she told her daughters that she was going to london, whilst she deceived johnson, who was sure to learn the truth from them; and he was wondering at her pertinacious silence at the very time when he was receiving letters from her, dated bath! why, having formally announced her determination to marry piozzi, she should not give him the meeting in london if she chose, fairly passes my comprehension. whilst the reviewer thinks he is strengthening one point, he is palpably weakening another. she would not have been "mortally afraid of the doctor's coming," if she had already thrown him off and finally broken with him? that she was afraid, and had reason to be so, is quite consistent with my theory, quite inconsistent with lord macaulay's and the critic's. johnson's letter (no. ) is that of a coarse man who had always been permitted to lecture and dictate with impunity. her letter (no. ) is that of a sensitive woman, who, for the first time, resents with firmness and retorts with dignity. the sentences i have printed in italics speak volumes. "never did i oppose your will, or control your wish, nor can your unmitigated severity itself lessen my regard." there is a shade of submissiveness in her reply, yet, on receiving it, he felt as a falcon might feel if a partridge were to shew fight. nothing short of habitual deference on her part, and unrepressed indulgence of temper on _his_, can account for or excuse his not writing before this unexpected check as he wrote after it. if he had not been systematically humoured and flattered, he would have seen at a glance that he had "no pretence to resent," and have been ready at once to make the best return in his power for "that kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched." she wrote him a kind and affectionate farewell; and there (so far as we know) ended their correspondence. but in "thraliana" she sets down: "_milan, th nov_. .--i have got dr. johnson's picture here, and expect miss thrale's with impatience. i do love them dearly, as ill as they have used me, and always shall. poor johnson did not _mean_ to use me ill. he only grew upon indulgence till patience could endure no further." in a letter to mr. s. lysons from milan, dated december th, , which proves that she was not frivolously employed, she says: "my next letter shall talk of the libraries and botanical gardens, and twenty other clever things here. i wish you a comfortable christmas, and a happy beginning of the year . do not neglect dr. johnson: you will never see any other mortal so wise or so good. i keep his picture in my chamber, and his works on my chimney." "forgiveness to the injured doth belong, but they ne'er pardon who have done the wrong." what he said of her can only be learned from her bitter enemies or hollow friends, who have preserved nothing kindly or creditable. hawkins states that a letter from johnson to himself contained these words:--"poor thrale! i thought that either her virtue or her vice (meaning her love of her children or her pride) would have saved her from such a marriage. she is now become a subject for her enemies to exult over, and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget or pity." madame d'arblay gives two accounts of the last interview she ever had with johnson,--on the th november, . in the "diary" she sets down: "i had seen miss t. the day before." "'so,' said he, 'did i.' "i then said, 'do you ever, sir, hear, from her mother?' "'no,' cried he, 'nor write to her. i drive her quite from my mind. if i meet with one of her letters, i burn it instantly.[ ] i have burnt all i can find. i never speak of her, and i desire never to hear of her name. i drive her, as i said, wholly from my mind.'" [footnote : if this was true, it is strange that he did not destroy the letter (no. ) which gave him so sudden and mortifying a check. miss hawkins says in her memoirs: "it was i who discovered the letter. i carried it to my father; he enclosed and sent it to her, _there never having been any intercourse between them_." anything from hawkins about streatham and its inmates must therefore have been invention or hearsay.] in the "memoirs," describing the same interview, she says:--"we talked then of poor mrs. thrale, but only for a moment, for i saw him greatly incensed, and with such severity of displeasure, that i hastened to start another subject, and he solemnly enjoined me to mention that no more." this was only eighteen days before he died, and he might be excused for being angry at the introduction of any agitating topic. it would stain his memory, not hers, to prove that, belying his recent professions of tenderness and gratitude, he directly or indirectly encouraged her assailants. "i was tempted to observe," says the author of "piozziana," "that i thought, as i still do, that johnson's anger on the event of her second marriage was excited by some feeling of disappointment; and that i suspected he had formed some hope of attaching her to himself. it would be disingenuous on my part to attempt to repeat her answer. i forget it; but the impression on my mind is that she did not contradict me." sir james fellowes' marginal note on this passage is: "this was an absurd notion, and i can undertake to say it was the last idea that ever entered her head; for when i once alluded to the subject, she ridiculed the idea: she told me she always felt for johnson the same respect and veneration as for a pascal."[ ] [footnote : when sheridan was accused of making love to mrs. siddons, he said he should as soon think of making love to the archbishop of canterbury.] on the margin of the passage in which boswell says, "johnson wishing to unite himself with this rich widow was much talked of, but i believe without foundation,"--she has written, "i believe so too!!" the report sufficed to bring into play the light artillery of the wits, one of whose best hits was an "ode to mrs. thrale, by samuel johnson, ll.d., on their approaching nuptials," beginning: "if e'er my fingers touched the lyre, in satire fierce, in pleasure gay, shall not my thralia's smiles inspire, shall sam refuse the sportive lay? "my dearest lady, view your slave, rehold him as your very _scrub_: ready to write as author grave, or govern well the brewing tub. "to rich felicity thus raised, my bosom glows with amorous fire; porter no longer shall be praised, 'tis i myself am _thrale's entire_." she has written opposite these lines, "whose fun was this? it is better than the other." the other was: "cervisial coctor's viduate dame, opinst thou this gigantick frame, procumbing at thy shrine, shall catinated by thy charms, a captive in thy ambient arms perennially be thine." she writes opposite: "whose silly fun was this? soame jenyn's?" the following paragraph is copied from the note-book of the late miss williams wynn[ ], who had recently been reading a large collection of mrs. piozzi's letters addressed to a welsh neighbour: [footnote : daughter of sir watkyn wynn (the fourth baronet) and granddaughter of george grenville, the minister. she was distinguished by her literary taste and acquirements, as well as highly esteemed for the uprightness of her character, the excellence of her understanding, and the kindness of her heart. her journals and note-books, carefully kept during a long life passed in the best society, are full of interesting anecdotes and curious extracts from rare books and manuscripts. they are now in the possession of her niece, the honourable mrs. rowley.] "_london, march_, .--i have had an opportunity of talking to old sir william pepys on the subject of his old friend, mrs. piozzi, and from his conversation am more than ever impressed with the idea that she was one of the most inconsistent characters that ever existed. sir william says he never met with any human being who possessed the talent of conversation in such a degree. i naturally felt anxious to know whether piozzi could in any degree add to this pleasure, and found, as i expected, that he could not even understand her. "her infatuation for him seems perfectly unaccountable. johnson in his rough (i may here call it brutal) manner said to her, 'why ma'am, he is not only a stupid, ugly dog, but he is an old dog too.' sir william says he really believes that she combated her inclination for him as long as possible; so long, that her senses would have failed her if she had attempted to resist any longer. she was perfectly aware of her degradation. one day, speaking to sir william of some persons whom he had been in the habit of meeting continually at streatham during the lifetime of mr. thrale, she said, not one of them has taken the smallest notice of me ever since: they dropped me before i had done anything wrong. piozzi was literally at her elbow when she said this." the reviewer quotes the remark, "she was perfectly aware of her degradation," as resting on the personal responsibility of miss wynn, "who knew her in later life in wales." the context shews that miss wynn (who did not know her) was simply repeating the impressions of sir william pepys, one of the bitterest opponents of the marriage, to whom she certainly never said anything derogatory to her second husband. the uniform tenor of her letters and her conduct shew that she never regarded her second marriage as discreditable, and always took a high and independent, instead of a subdued or deprecating, tone with her alienated friends. a bare statement of the treatment she received from them is surely no proof of conscious degradation. in a letter to a welsh neighbour, near the end of her life, some time in , she says: "mrs. mostyn (her youngest daughter) has written again on the road back to italy, where she likes the piozzis above all people, she says, _if they were not so proud of their family_. would not that make one laugh two hours before one's own death? but i remember when lady egremont raised the whole nation's ill will here, while the saxons were wondering how count bruhle could think of marrying a lady born miss carpenter. the lombards doubted in the meantime of my being a gentlewoman by birth, because my first husband was a brewer. a pretty world, is it not? a ship of fooles, according to the old poem; and they will upset the vessel by and by." this is not the language of one who wished to apologise for a misalliance. as to piozzi's assumed want of youth and good looks, johnson's knowledge of womankind, to say nothing of his self-love, should have prevented him from urging this as an insuperable objection. he might have recollected the roman matron in juvenal, who considers the world well lost for an old and disfigured prize-fighter; or he might have quoted spenser's description of one-- "who rough and rude and filthy did appear, unseemly man to please fair lady's eye, yet he of ladies oft was loved dear, when fairer faces were bid standen by: oh! who can tell the bent of woman's phantasy?" madame campan, speaking of caroline of naples, the sister of marie antoinette, says, she had great reason to complain of the insolence of a spaniard named las casas, whom the king, her father-in-law, had sent to persuade her to remove m. acton[ ] from the conduct of affairs and from about her person. she had told him, to convince him of the nature of her sentiments, that she would have acton painted and sculptured by the most celebrated artists of italy, and send his bust and his portrait to the king of spain, to prove to him that the desire of fixing a man of superior capacity could alone have induced her to confer the favour he enjoyed. las casas had dared to reply, that she would be taking useless trouble; that a man's ugliness did not always prevent him from pleasing, and that the king of spain had too much experience to be ignorant that the caprices of a woman were inexplicable. johnson may surely be allowed credit for as much knowledge of the sex as the king of spain. [footnote : m. acton, as madame campan calls him, was a member of the ancient english family of that name. he succeeded to the baronetcy in , and was the grandfather of sir john e.e. dalberg acton, bart., m.p., &c.] others were simultaneously accusing her of marrying a young man to indulge a sensual inclination. the truth is, piozzi was a few months older than herself, and was neither ugly nor disagreeable. madame d'arblay has been already quoted as to his personal appearance, and miss seward (october, ) writes: "i am become acquainted with mr. and mrs. piozzi. her conversation is that bright wine of the intellects which has no lees. dr. johnson told me truth when he said she had more colloquial wit than most of our literary women; it is indeed a fountain of perpetual flow. but he did not tell me truth when he asserted that piozzi was an ugly dog, without particular skill in his profession. mr. piozzi is a handsome man, in middle life, with gentle, pleasing, unaffected manners, and with very eminent skill in his profession. though he has not a powerful or fine-toned voice, he sings with transcending grace and expression. i am charmed with his perfect expression on his instrument. surely the finest sensibilities must vibrate through his frame, since they breathe so sweetly through his song." the concluding sentence contains what partridge would call a _non sequitur_, for the finest musical sensibility may coexist with the most commonplace qualities. but the lady's evidence is clear on the essential point; and another passage from her letters may assist us in determining the precise nature of johnson's feelings towards mrs. piozzi, and the extent to which his later language and conduct regarding her were influenced by pique: "love is the great softener of savage dispositions. johnson had always a metaphysic passion for one princess or another: first, the rustic lucy porter, before he married her nauseous mother; next the handsome, but haughty, molly aston; next the sublimated, methodistic hill boothby, who read her bible in hebrew; and lastly, the more charming mrs. thrale, with the beauty of the first, the learning of the second, and with more worth than a bushel of such sinners and such saints. it is ridiculously diverting to see the old elephant forsaking his nature before these princesses: "'to make them mirth, use all his might, and writhe, his mighty form disporting.' "_this last and long-enduring passion for mrs. thrale was, however, composed perhaps of cupboard love, platonic love, and vanity tickled and gratified, from morn to night, by incessant homage_. the two first ingredients are certainly oddly heterogeneous; but johnson, in religion and politics, in love and in hatred, was composed of such opposite and contradictory materials, as never before met in the human mind. this is the reason why folk are never weary of talking, reading, and writing about a man-- "'so various that he seem'd to be, not one, but all mankind's epitome.'" after quoting the sentence printed in italics, the reviewer says: "on this hint mr. hayward enlarges, nothing loth." i quoted the entire letter without a word of comment, and what is given as my "enlarging" is an _olla podrida_ of sentences torn from the context in three different and unconnected passages of this introduction. the only one of them which has any bearing on the point shews, though garbled, that, in attributing motives, i distinguished between johnson and his set. having thus laid the ground for fixing on me opinions i had nowhere professed, the reviewer asks, "had mr. hayward, when he passed such slighting judgment on the motives of the venerable sage who awes us still, no fear before his eyes of the anathema aimed by carlyle at croker for similar disparagement? 'as neediness, and greediness, and vain glory are the chief qualities of most men, so no man, not even a johnson, acts, or can think of acting, on any other principle. whatever, therefore, cannot be referred to the two former categories, need and greed, is without scruple ranged under the latter.'"[ ] [footnote : edinb, review, no. , p. .] this style of criticism is as loose as it is unjust; for one main ingredient in miss seward's mixture is platonic love, which cannot be referred to either of the three categories. her error lay in not adding a fourth ingredient,--the admiration which johnson undoubtedly felt for the admitted good qualities of mrs. thrale. but the lady was nearer the truth than the reviewer, when he proceeds in this strain: "we take an entirely different view at once of the character and the feelings of johnson. rude, uncouth, arrogant as he was--spoilt as he was, which is far worse, by flattery and toadying and the silly homage of inferior worshippers--selfish as he was in his eagerness for small enjoyments and disregard of small attentions--that which lay at the very bottom of his character, that which constitutes the great source of his power in life, and connects him after death with the hearts of all of us, is his spirit of imaginative romance. he was romantic in almost all things--in politics, in religion, in his musings on the supernatural world, in friendship for men, and in love for women." * * * * * "such was his fancied 'padrona,' his 'mistress,' his 'thralia dulcis,' a compound of the bright lady of fashion and the ideal urania who rapt his soul into spheres of perfection." imaginative romance in politics, in religion, and in musings on the supernatural world, is here only another term for prejudice, intolerance, bigotry, and credulity--for rabid toryism, high church doctrines verging on romanism, and a confirmed belief in ghosts. imaginative romance in love and friendship is an elevating, softening, and refining influence, which, especially when it forms the basis of character, cannot co-exist with habitual rudeness, uncouthness, arrogance, love of toadying, selfishness, and disregard of what johnson himself called the minor morals. equally heterogeneous is the "compound of the bright lady of fashion and the ideal urania." a goddess in crinoline would be a semi-mundane creature at best; and the image unluckily suggests that johnson was unphilosophically, not to say vulgarly, fond of rank, fashion, and their appendages. his imagination, far from being of the richest or highest kind, was insufficient for the attainment of dramatic excellence, was insufficient even for the nobler parts of criticism. nor had he much to boast of in the way of delicacy of perception or sensibility. his strength lay in his understanding; his most powerful weapon was argument: his grandest quality was his good sense. thurlow, speaking of the choice of a successor to lord mansfield, said, "i hesitated long between the intemperance of kenyon, and the corruption of buller; not but what there was a d----d deal of corruption in kenyon's intemperance, and a d----d deal of intemperance in buller's corruption." just so, we may hesitate long between the romance and the worldliness of johnson, not but what there was a d----d deal of romance in his worldliness, and a d----d deal of worldliness in his romance. the late lord alvanley, whose heart was as inflammable as his wit was bright, used to tell how a successful rival in the favour of a married dame offered to retire from the field for _ _., saying, "i am a younger son: her husband does not give dinners, and they have no country house: no _liaison_ suits me that does not comprise both." at the risk of provoking mr. carlyle's anathema, i now avow my belief that johnson was, nay, boasted of being, open to similar influences; and as for his "ideal uranias," no man past seventy idealises women with whom he has been corresponding for years about his or their "natural history," to whom he sends recipes for "lubricity of the bowels," with an assurance that it has had the best effect upon his own.[ ] [footnote : letters, vol. ii. p. . the letter containing the recipe actually begins "my dear angel." had johnson forgotten swift's lines on celia? or the repudiation of the divine nature by ermodotus, which occurs twice in plutarch? the late lord melbourne complained that two ladies of quality, sisters, told him too much of their "natural history."] rough language, too, although not incompatible with affectionate esteem, can hardly be reconciled with imaginative romance-- "perhaps it was right to dissemble your love, but why did you kick me down stairs?" "his ugly old wife," says the reviewer, "was an angel." yes, an angel so far as exalted language could make her one; and he had always half-a-dozen angels or goddesses on his list. "_je change d'objet, mais la passion reste_." for this very reason, i repeat, his affection for mrs. piozzi was not a deep, devoted, or absorbing feeling at any time; and the gloom which settled upon the evening of his days was owing to his infirmities and his dread of death, not to the loosening of cherished ties, nor to the compelled solitude of a confined dwelling in bolt court. the plain matter of fact is that, during the last two years of his life, he was seldom a month together at his own house, unless when the state of his health prevented him from enjoying the hospitality of his friends. when the fatal marriage was announced, he was planning what boswell calls a jaunt into the country; and in a letter dated lichfield, oct. , , he says: "i passed the first part of the summer at oxford (with dr. adams); afterwards i went to lichfield, then to ashbourne (dr. taylor's), and a week ago i returned to lichfield." in the journal which he kept for dr. brocklesby, he writes, oct. : "the town is my element; there are my friends, there are my books to which i have not yet bid farewell, and there are my amusements. sir joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to public life; and i hope still to keep my station, till god shall bid me _go in peace_." boswell reports him saying about this time, "sir, i look upon every day to be lost when i do not make a new acquaintance." after another visit to dr. adams, at pembroke college, he returned on the th nov. to london, where he died on the th dec. . the proximate cause of his death was dropsy; and there is not the smallest sign of its having been accelerated or embittered by unkindness or neglect. whoever has accompanied me thus far will be fully qualified to form an independent opinion of lord macaulay's dashing summary of mrs. piozzi's imputed ill-treatment of johnson: "johnson was now in his seventy-second year. the infirmities of age were coming fast upon him. that inevitable event of which he never thought without horror was brought near to him; and his whole life was darkened by the shadow of death. he had often to pay the cruel price of longevity. every year he lost what could never be replaced. the strange dependants to whom he had given shelter, and to whom, in spite of their faults, he was strongly attached by habit, dropped off one by one; and, in the silence of his home, he regretted even the noise of their scolding matches. the kind and generous thrale was no more; and it would have been well if his wife had been laid beside him. but she survived to be the laughing-stock of those who had envied her, and to draw from the eyes of the old man who had loved her beyond any thing in the world, tears far more bitter than he would have shed over her grave. "with some estimable, and many agreeable qualities, she was not made to be independent. the control of a mind more steadfast than her own was necessary to her respectability. while she was restrained by her husband, a man of sense and firmness, indulgent to her taste in trifles, but always the undisputed master of his house, her worst offences had been impertinent jokes, white lies, and short fits of pettishness ending in sunny good humour. but he was gone; and she was left an opulent widow of forty, with strong sensibility, volatile fancy, and slender judgment. she soon fell in love with a music-master from brescia, in whom nobody but herself could discover anything to admire. her pride, and perhaps some better feelings, struggled hard against this degrading passion. but the struggle irritated her nerves, soured her temper, and at length endangered her health. conscious that her choice was one which johnson could not approve, she became desirous to escape from his inspection. her manner towards him changed. she was sometimes cold and sometimes petulant. she did not conceal her joy when he left streatham: she never pressed him to return; and, if he came unbidden, she received him in a manner which convinced him that he was no longer a welcome guest. he took the very intelligible hints which she gave. he read, for the last time, a chapter of the greek testament in the library which had been formed by himself. in a solemn and tender prayer he commended the house and its inmates to the divine protection, and, with emotions which choked his voice and convulsed his powerful frame, left for ever that beloved home for the gloomy and desolate house behind fleet street, where the few and evil days which still remained to him were to run out. "here, in june , he had a paralytic stroke, from which, however, he recovered, and which does not appear to have at all impaired his intellectual faculties. but other maladies came thick upon him. his asthma tormented him day and night. dropsical symptoms made their appearance. while sinking under a complication of diseases, he heard that the woman whose friendship had been the chief happiness of sixteen years of his life, had married an italian fiddler; that all london was crying shame upon her; and that the newspapers and magazines were filled with allusions to the ephesian matron and the two pictures in hamlet. he vehemently said that he would try to forget her existence. he never uttered her name. every memorial of her which met his eye he flung into the fire. she meanwhile fled from the laughter and hisses of her countrymen and countrywomen to a land where she was unknown, hastened across mount cenis, and learned, while passing a merry christmas of concerts and lemonade-parties at milan, that the great man with whose name hers is inseparably associated, had ceased to exist."[ ] [footnote : "encyclopædia britannica," last edition. the essay on johnson is reprinted in the first volume of lord macaulay's "miscellaneous writings."] "splendid recklessness," is the happy expression used by the "saturday review" in characterising this account of the alleged rupture with its consequences; and no reader will fail to admire the rhetorical skill with which the expulsion from streatham with its library formed by himself, the chapter in the greek testament, the gloomy and desolate home, the music-master in whom nobody but herself could see anything to admire, the few and evil days, the emotions that convulsed the frame, the painful and melancholy death, and the merry christmas of concerts and lemonade parties, have been grouped together with the view of giving picturesqueness, impressive unity, and damnatory vigour to the sketch. "action, action, action," says the orator; "effect, effect, effect," says the historian. give archimedes a place to stand on, and he would move the world. give fouché a line of a man's handwriting, and he would engage to ruin him. give lord macaulay the semblance of an authority, an insulated fact or phrase, a scrap of a journal, or the tag end of a song, and on it, by the abused prerogative of genius, he would construct a theory of national or personal character, which should confer undying glory or inflict indelible disgrace. johnson was never driven or expelled from mrs. piozzi's house or family: if very intelligible hints were given, they certainly were not taken; the library was not formed by him; the testament may or may not have been greek; his powerful frame shook with no convulsions but what may have been occasioned by the unripe grapes and hard peaches; he did not leave streatham for his gloomy and desolate house behind fleet street; the few and evil days (two years, nine weeks) did not run out in that house; the music-master was generally admired and esteemed; and the merry christmas of concerts and lemonade-parties is simply another sample of the brilliant historian's mode of turning the abstract into the concrete in such a manner as to degrade or elevate at will. an italian concert is not a merry meeting; and a lemonade-party, i presume, is a party where (instead of _eau-sucrée_ as at paris) the refreshment handed about is lemonade: not an enlivening drink at christmas. in a word, all these graphic details are mere creations of the brain, and the general impression intended to be conveyed by them is false, substantially false; for mrs. piozzi never behaved otherwise than kindly and considerately to johnson at any time. her life in italy has been sketched in her best manner by her own lively pen in the "autobiography" and what she calls the "travel book," to be presently mentioned. scattered notices of her proceedings occur in her letters to mr. lysons, and in the printed correspondence of her cotemporaries. on the th october, , she writes to mr. lysons from turin: "we are going to alexandria, genoa, and pavia, and then to milan for the winter, as mr. piozzi finds friends everywhere to delay us, and i hate hurry and fatigue; it takes away all one's attention. lyons was a delightful place to me, and we were so feasted there by my husband's old acquaintances. the duke and duchess of cumberland too paid us a thousand caressing civilities where we met with them, and we had no means of musical parties neither. the prince of sisterna came yesterday to visit mr. piozzi, and present me with the key of his box at the opera for the time we stay at turin. here's honour and glory for you! when miss thrale hears of it, she will write perhaps; the other two are very kind and affectionate." in "thraliana": "_ rd november_, .--yesterday i received a letter from mr. baretti, full of the most flagrant and bitter insults concerning my late marriage with mr. piozzi, against whom, however, he can bring no heavier charge than that he disputed on the road with an innkeeper concerning the bill in his last journey to italy; while he accuses me of murder and fornication in the grossest terms, such as i believe have scarcely ever been used even to his old companions in newgate, whence he was released to scourge the families which cherished, and bite the hands that have since relieved him. could i recollect any provocation i ever gave the man, i should be less amazed, but he heard, perhaps, that johnson had written me a rough letter, and thought he would write me a brutal one: like the jewish king, who, trying to imitate solomon without his understanding, said, 'my father whipped you with whips, but i will whip you with scorpions.'" "milan, dec. . "i correspond constantly and copiously with such of my daughters as are willing to answer my letters, and i have at last received one cold scrap from the eldest, which i instantly and tenderly replied to. mrs. lewis too, and miss nicholson, have had accounts of my health, for i found _them_ disinterested and attached to me: those who led the stream, or watched which way it ran, that they might follow it, were not, i suppose, desirous of my correspondence, and till they are so, shall not be troubled with it." miss nicholson was the lady left with the daughters, and mrs. piozzi could have heard no harm of her from them or others when she wrote thus. the same inference must be drawn from the allusions to this lady at subsequent periods. after stating that she "dined at the minister's o' tuesday, and he called all the wise men about me with great politeness indeed"--"once more," she continues, "keep me out of the newspapers if you possibly can: they have given me many a miserable hour, and my enemies many a merry one: but i have not deserved public persecution, and am very happy to live in a place where one is free from unmerited insolence, such as london abounds with. "'illic credulitas, illic temerarius error.' god bless you, and may you conquer the many-headed monster which i could never charm to silence." in "thraliana," she says: "_january_, .--i see the english newspapers are full of gross insolence to me: all burst out, as i guessed it would, upon the death of dr. johnson. but mr. boswell (who i plainly see is the author) should let the _dead_ escape from his malice at least. i feel more shocked at the insults offered to mr. thrale's memory than at those cast on mr. piozzi's person. my present husband, thank god! is well and happy, and able to defend himself: but dear mr. thrale, that had fostered these cursed wits so long! to be stung by their malice even in the grave, is too cruel:-- "'nor church, nor churchyards, from such fops are free.'"[ ]--pope. [footnote : probably misquoted for-- "no place is sacred, not the church is free." _prologue to the satires_.] the license of our press is a frequent topic of complaint. but here is a woman who had never placed herself before the public in any way so as to give them a right to discuss her conduct or affairs, not even as an author, made the butt of every description of offensive personality for months, with the tacit encouragement of the first moralist of the age. january th, , she writes from milan:--"the minister, count wilsick, has shown us many distinctions, and we are visited by the first families in milan. the venetian resident will, however, be soon sent to the court of london, and give a faithful account, as i am sure, to all their _obliging_ inquiries." in "thraliana": "_ th jan_., .--i have recovered myself sufficiently to think what will be the consequence to me of johnson's death, but must wait the event, as all thoughts on the future in this world are vain. six people have already undertaken to write his life, i hear, of which sir john hawkins, mr. boswell, tom davies, and dr. kippis are four. piozzi says he would have me add to the number, and so i would, but that i think my anecdotes too few, and am afraid of saucy answers if i send to england for others. the saucy answers _i_ should disregard, but my heart is made vulnerable by my late marriage, and i am certain that, to spite me, they would insult my husband. "poor johnson! i see they will leave _nothing untold_ that i laboured so long to keep secret; and i was so very delicate _in trying to conceal his [fancied][ ] insanity_ that i retained no proofs of it, or hardly any, nor even mentioned it in these books, lest by my dying first _they_ might be printed and the secret (for such i thought it) discovered. i used to tell him in jest that his biographers would be at a loss concerning some orange-peel he used to keep in his pocket, and many a joke we had about the lives that would be published. rescue me out of their hands, my dear, and do it yourself, said he; taylor, adams, and hector will furnish you with juvenile anecdotes, and baretti will give you all the rest that you have not already, for i think baretti is a lyar only when he speaks of himself. oh, said i, baretti told me yesterday that you got by heart six pages of machiavel's history once, and repeated them thirty years afterwards word for word. why this is a _gross_ lye, said johnson, i never read the book at all. baretti too told me of you (said i) that you once kept sixteen cats in your chamber, and yet they scratched your legs to such a degree, you were forced to use mercurial plaisters for some time after. why this (replied johnson) is an unprovoked lye indeed; i thought the fellow would not have broken through divine and human laws thus to make puss his heroine, but i see i was mistaken." [footnote : sic in the ms. see _antè_, p. .] on february rd, , horace walpole writes from london to sir horace mann at florence:--"i have lately been lent a volume of poems composed and printed at florence, in which another of our exheroines, mrs. piozzi, has a considerable share; her associates three of the english bards who assisted in the little garland which ramsay the painter sent me. the present is a plump octavo; and if you have not sent me a copy by our nephew, i should be glad if you could get one for me: not for the merit of the verses, which are moderate enough and faint imitations of our good poets; but for a short and sensible and genteel preface by la piozzi, from whom i have just seen a very clever letter to mrs. montagu, to disavow a jackanapes who has lately made a noise here, one boswell, by anecdotes of dr. johnson. in a day or two we expect another collection by the same signora." her associates were greathead, merry, and parsons. the volume in question was "the florence miscellany." "a copy," says mr. lowndes, "having fallen into the hands of w. grifford, gave rise to his admirable satire of the 'baviad and moeviad.'" in his journal of the tour to the hebrides, boswell makes johnson say of mrs. montagu's "essay on shakespeare": "reynolds is fond of her book, and i wonder at it; for neither i, nor beauclerc, nor mrs. thrale could get through it." this is what mrs. piozzi wrote to disavow, so far as she was personally concerned. in a subsequent letter from vienna, she says: "mrs. montagu has written to me very sweetly." the other collection expected from her was her "anecdotes of the late samuel johnson, during the last twenty years of his life. printed for t. cadell in the strand, ." she opened the matter to mr. cadell in the following terms: "florence, th june, . "_sir_.,--as you were at once the bookseller and friend of dr. johnson, who always spoke of your character in the kindest terms, i could wish you likewise to be the publisher of some anecdotes concerning the last twenty years of his life, collected by me during the many days i had opportunity to spend in his instructive company, and digested into method since i heard of his death. as i have a large collection of his letters in england, besides some verses, known only to myself, i wish to delay printing till we can make two or three little volumes, not unacceptable, perhaps, to the public; but i desire my intention to be notified, for divers reasons, and, if you approve of the scheme, should wish it to be immediately advertized. my return cannot be in less than twelve months, and we may be detained still longer, as our intention is to complete the tour of italy; but the book is in forwardness, and it has been seen by many english and italian friends." on july th, , she writes from florence: "we celebrated our wedding anniversary two days ago with a magnificent dinner and concert, at which the prince corsini and his brother the cardinal did us the honour of assisting, and wished us joy in the tenderest and politest terms. lord and lady cowper, lord pembroke, and _all_ the english indeed, doat on my husband, and show us every possible attention." on the th july, , she writes again to mr. cadell:--"i am favoured with your answer and pleased with the advertisement, but it will be impossible to print the verses till my return to england, as they are all locked up with other papers in the bank, nor should i choose to put the key (which is now at milan) in any one's hand except my own." she therefore proposes that the "anecdotes" shall be printed first, and published separately. on the th october, , she writes from sienna: "i finished my 'anecdotes of dr. johnson' at florence, and taking them with me to leghorn, got a clear transcript made there, such as i hope will do for you to print from; though there may be some errors, perhaps many, which have escaped me, as i am wholly unused to the business of sending manuscripts to the press, and must rely on you to get everything done properly when, it comes into your hands." such was the surviving ascendency of johnson, or such the placability of her disposition, that, but for piozzi's remonstrances, she would have softened down her "anecdotes" to an extent which would have destroyed much of their sterling value. mr. lysons made the final bargain with cadell, and had full power to act for her. she writes thus to cadell: "rome, th march, . "sir,--i hasten to tell you that i am perfectly pleased and contented with the alterations made by my worthy and amiable friends in the 'anecdotes of johnson's life.' whatever is done by sir lucas pepys is certainly well done, and i am happy in the thoughts of his having interested himself about it. mr. lysons was very judicious and very kind in going to the bishop of peterboro', and him and dr. lort for advice. there is no better to be had in the world, i believe; and it is my desire that they should be always consulted about any future transactions of the same sort relating to, sir, your most obedient servant, "h. l. piozzi."[ ] [footnote : the letters to mr. cadell were published in the "gentleman's magazine" for march and april, .] the early portions of "thraliana" were evidently amongst the papers locked up in the bank, and she consequently wrote most of the anecdotes from memory, which may account for some minor discrepancies, like that relating to the year in which she made the acquaintance with johnson. the book attracted great attention; and whilst some affected to discover in it the latent signs of wounded vanity and pique, others vehemently impugned its accuracy. foremost amongst her assailants stood boswell, who had an obvious motive for depreciating her, and he attempts to destroy her authority, first, by quoting johnson's supposed imputations on her veracity; and secondly, by individual instances of her alleged departure from truth. thus, johnson is reported to have said:--"it is amazing, sir, what deviations there are from precise truth, in the account which is given of almost everything. i told mrs. thrale, you have so little anxiety about truth that you never tax your memory with the exact thing." her proneness to exaggerated praise especially excited his indignation, and he endeavours to make her responsible for his rudeness on the strength of it. "mrs. thrale gave high praise to mr. dudley long (now north). _johnson_. 'nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. mr. long's character is very _short_. it is nothing. he fills a chair. he is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. i know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. they are provoked to attack it. now there is pepys; you praised that man with such disproportion, that i was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than he deserves. _his blood is upon your head_. by the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. and yet (looking to her with a leering smile) she is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers;--she would be the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig.'" opposite the words i have printed in italics she has written: "an expression he would not have used; no, not for worlds." in boswell's note of a visit to streatham in , we find:-- "next morning, while we were at breakfast, johnson gave a very earnest recommendation of what he himself practised with the utmost conscientiousness: i mean a strict attention to truth even in the most minute particulars. 'accustom your children,' said he, 'constantly to this: if a thing happened at one window, and they, when relating it, say that it happened at another, do not let it pass, but instantly check them: you do not know where deviation from truth will end.' _boswell_. 'it may come to the door: and when once an account is at all varied in one circumstance, it may by degrees be varied so as to be totally different from what really happened.' our lively hostess, whose fancy was impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say 'nay, this is too much. if dr. johnson should forbid me to drink tea, i would comply, as i should feel the restraint only twice a day: but little variations in narrative must happen a thousand times a day, if one is not perpetually watching.' _johnson_. 'well, madam, and you _ought_ to be perpetually watching. it is more from carelessness about truth, than from intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world.'" now for the illustrative incident, which occurred during the same visit:-- "i had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me by an old man, who had been a passenger with me in the stage-coach to-day. mrs. thrale, having taken occasion to allude to it in talking to me, called it, 'the story told you by the old _woman_.' 'now, madam,' said i, 'give me leave to catch you in the fact: it was not an old _woman_, but an old _man_, whom i mentioned as having told me this.' i presumed to take an opportunity, in the presence of johnson, of showing this lively lady how ready she was, unintentionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narration." in the margin: "mrs. thrale knew there was no such thing as an old man: when a man gets superannuated, they call him an old woman." the remarks on the value of truth attributed to johnson are just and sound in the main, but when they are pointed against character, they must be weighed in reference to the very high standard he habitually insisted upon. he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he was. "a servant's strict regard for truth," he continued, "must be weakened by such a practice. a philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but few servants are such nice distinguishers. if i accustom a servant to tell a lie for me, have i not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself?" one of his townspeople, mr. wickens, of lichfield, was walking with him in a small meandering shrubbery formed so as to hide the termination, and observed that it might be taken for an extensive labyrinth, but that it would prove a deception, though it was, indeed, not an unpardonable one. "sir," exclaimed johnson, "don't tell me of deception; a lie, sir, is a lie, whether it be a lie to the eye or a lie to the ear." whilst he was in one of these paradoxical humours, there was no pleasing him; and he has been known to insult persons of respectability for repeating current accounts of events, sounding new and strange, which turned out to be literally true; such as the red-hot shot at gibraltar, or the effects of the earthquake at lisbon. yet he could be lax when it suited him, as speaking of epitaphs: "the writer of an epitaph should not be considered as saying nothing but what is strictly true. allowance must be made for some degree of exaggerated praise. in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath." is he upon oath in narrating an anecdote? or could he do more than swear to the best of his recollection and belief, if he was. boswell's notes of conversations are wonderful results of a peculiar faculty, or combination of faculties, but the utmost they can be supposed to convey is the substance of what took place, in an exceedingly condensed shape, lighted up at intervals by the _ipsissima verba_, of the speaker. "whilst he went on talking triumphantly," says boswell, "i was fixed in admiration, and said to mrs. thrale, 'o for short-hand to take this down!' 'you'll carry it all in your head,' said she; 'a long head is as good as short-hand.'" on his boasting of the efficiency of his own system of short-hand to johnson, he was put to the test and failed. mrs. piozzi at once admits and accounts for the inferiority of her own collection of anecdotes, when she denounces "a trick which i have seen played on common occasions, of sitting steadily down at the other end of the room, to write at the moment what should be said in company, either _by_ dr. johnson or _to_ him, i never practised myself, nor approved of in another. there is something so ill-bred, and so inclining to treachery in this conduct, that were it commonly adopted, all confidence would soon be exiled from society, and a conversation assembly room would become tremendous as a court of justice." this is a hit at boswell, who (as regards johnson himself) had full licence to take notes the best way he could. madame d'arblay's are much fuller, and bear a suspicious resemblance to the dialogues in her novels. in a reply to boswell, dated december th, , miss seward pointedly remarks: "dr. johnson's frequently-expressed contempt for mrs. thrale on account of that want of veracity which he imputes to her, at least as mr. boswell has recorded, either convicts him of narrating what johnson never said, or johnson himself of that insincerity of which there are too many instances, amidst all the recorded proofs of his unprovoked personal rudeness, to those with whom he conversed; for, this repeated contempt was coeval with his published letters, which express such high and perfect esteem for that lady, which declare that 'to hear her, was to hear wisdom, that to see her, was to see virtue.'" lord macaulay and his advocate in the "edinburgh review," who speak of mrs. piozzi's "white lies," have not convicted her of one; and mr. croker bears strong testimony to her accuracy. mrs. piozzi prefaces some instances of johnson's rudeness and harshness by the remark, that "he did not hate the persons he treated with roughness, or despise them whom he drove from him by apparent scorn. he really loved and respected many whom he would not suffer to love him." boswell echoes the remark, multiplies the instances, and then accuses her of misrepresenting their friend. after mentioning a discourteous reply to robertson the historian, which was subsequently confirmed by boswell, she proceeds to show that johnson was no gentler to herself or those for whom he had the greatest regard. "when i one day lamented the loss of a first cousin, killed in america, 'prithee, my dear (said he), have done with canting: how would the world be worse for it, i may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks and roasted for presto's supper?'--presto was the dog that lay under the table." to this boswell opposes the version given by baretti: "mrs. thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid down her knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, 'o, my dear johnson! do you know what has happened? the last letters from abroad have brought us an account that our poor cousin's head was taken off by a cannon-ball.' johnson, who was shocked both at the fact and her light unfeeling manner of mentioning it, replied, 'madam, it would give _you_ very little concern if all your relations were spitted like those larks, and dressed for presto's supper." this version, assuming its truth, aggravates the personal rudeness of the speech. but her marginal notes on the passage are: "boswell appealing to baretti for a testimony of the truth is comical enough! i never addressed him (johnson) so familiarly in my life. i never did eat any supper, and there were no larks to eat." "upon mentioning this story to my friend mr. wilkes," adds boswell, "he pleasantly matched it with the following sentimental anecdote. he was invited by a young man of fashion at paris to sup with him and a lady who had been for some time his mistress, but with whom he was going to part. he said to mr. wilkes that he really felt very much for her, she was in such distress, and that he meant to make her a present of louis d'ors. mr. wilkes observed the behaviour of mademoiselle, who sighed indeed very piteously, and assumed every pathetic air of grief, but ate no less than three french pigeons, which are as large as english partridges, besides other things. mr. wilkes whispered the gentleman, 'we often say in england, "excessive sorrow is exceeding dry," but i never heard "excessive sorrow is exceeding hungry." perhaps one hundred will do. the gentleman took the hint." mrs. piozzi's marginal ebullition is: "very like my hearty supper of larks, who never eat supper at all, nor was ever a hot dish seen on the table after dinner at streatham park." two instances of inaccuracy, announced as particularly worthy of notice, are supplied by "an eminent critic," understood to be malone, who begins by stating, "i have often been in his (johnson's) company, and never _once_ heard him say a severe thing to any one; and many others can attest the same." malone had lived very little with johnson, and to appreciate his evidence, we should know what he and boswell would agree to call a severe thing. once, on johnson's observing that they had "good talk" on the "preceding evening," "yes, sir," replied boswell, "you tossed and gored several persons." do tossing and goring come within the definition of severity? in another place he says, "i have seen even mrs. thrale stunned;" and miss reynolds relates that "one day at her own table he spoke so very roughly to her, that every one present was surprised that she could bear it so placidly; and on the ladies withdrawing, i expressed great astonishment that dr. johnson should speak so harshly to her, but to this she said no more than 'oh, dear, good man.'" one of the two instances of mrs. piozzi's inaccuracy is as follows:--"he once bade a very celebrated lady (hannah more) who praised him with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an emphasis (which always offended him) consider what her flattery was worth before she choaked _him_ with it." now, exclaims mr. malone, let the genuine anecdote be contrasted with this: "the person thus represented as being harshly treated, though a very celebrated lady, was _then_ just come to london from an obscure situation in the country. at sir joshua reynolds's one evening, she met dr. johnson. she very soon began to pay her court to him in the most fulsome strain. 'spare me, i beseech you, dear madam,' was his reply. she still _laid it on_. 'pray, madam, let us have no more of this,' he rejoined. not paying any attention to these warnings, she continued still her eulogy. at length, provoked by this indelicate and _vain_ obtrusion of compliments, he exclaimed, 'dearest lady, consider with yourself what your flattery is worth, before you bestow it so freely.' "how different does this story appear, when accompanied with all those circumstances which really belong to it, but which mrs. thrale either did not know, or has suppressed!" how do we know that these circumstances really belong to it? what essential difference do they make? and how do they prove mrs. thrale's inaccuracy, who expressly states the nature of the probable, though certainly most inadequate, provocation. the other instance is a story which she tells on mr. thrale's authority, of an argument between johnson and a gentleman, which the master of the house, a nobleman, tried to cut short by saying loud enough for the doctor to hear, "our friend has no meaning in all this, except just to relate at the club to-morrow how he teased johnson at dinner to-day; this is all to do himself honour." "no, upon my word," replied the other, "i see no honour in it, whatever you may do." "well, sir," returned mr. johnson sternly, "if you do not see the honour, i am sure i feel the disgrace." malone, on the authority of a nameless friend, asserts that it was not at the house of a nobleman, that the gentleman's remark was uttered in a low tone, and that johnson made no retort at all. as mrs. piozzi could hardly have invented the story, the sole question is, whether mr. thrale or malone's friend was right. she has written in the margin: "it was the house of thomas fitzmaurice, son to lord shelburne, and pottinger the hero."[ ] "mrs. piozzi," says boswell, "has given a similar misrepresentation of johnson's treatment of garrick in this particular (as to the club), as if he had used these contemptuous expressions: 'if garrick does apply, i'll blackball him. surely one ought to sit in a society like ours-- "'unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player.'" the lady retorts, "he did say so, and mr. thrale stood astonished." johnson was constantly depreciating the profession of the stage.[ ] [footnote : "being in company with count z----, at lord ----'s table, the count thinking the doctor too dogmatical, observed, he did not at all think himself honoured by the conversation.' and what is to become of me, my lord, who feel myself actually disgraced?"--_johnsoniana_, p. , first edition.] [footnote : "_boswell_. there, sir, you are always heretical, you never will allow merit to a player. _johnson_. merit, sir, what merit? do you respect a rope-dancer or a ballad-singer?"--_boswell's life of johnson_, p. .] whilst finding fault with mrs. piozzi for inaccuracy in another place, boswell supplies an additional example of johnson's habitual disregard of the ordinary rules of good breeding in society:-- "a learned gentleman [dr. vansittart], who, in the course of conversation, wished to inform us of this simple fact, that the council upon the circuit of shrewsbury were much bitten by fleas, took, i suppose, seven or eight minutes in relating it circumstantially. he in a plenitude of phrase told us, that large bales of woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall; that by reason of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious numbers; that the lodgings of the council were near the town-hall; and that those little animals moved from place to place with wonderful agility. johnson sat in great impatience till the gentleman had finished his tedious narrative, and then burst out (playfully however), 'it is a pity, sir, that you have not seen a lion; for a flea has taken you such a time, that a lion must have served you a twelve-month.'" he complains in a note that mrs. piozzi, to whom he told the anecdote, has related it "as if the gentleman had given the natural history of the mouse." but, in a letter to johnson she tells _him_ "i have seen the man that saw the mouse," and he replies "poor v----, he is a good man, &c.;" so that her version of the story is the best authenticated. opposite boswell's aggressive paragraph she has written: "i saw old mitchell of brighthelmstone affront him (johnson) terribly once about fleas. johnson, being tired of the subject, expressed his impatience of it with coarseness. 'why, sir,' said the old man, 'why should not flea bite o'me be treated as phlebotomy? it empties the capillary vessels.'" boswell's life of johnson was not published till ; but the controversy kindled by the tour to the hebrides and the anecdotes, raged fiercely enough to fix general attention and afford ample scope for ridicule: "the bozzi &c. subjects," writes hannah more in april , "are not exhausted, though everybody seems heartily sick of them. everybody, however, conspires not to let them drop. _that_, the cagliostro, and the cardinal's necklace, spoil all conversation, and destroyed a very good evening at mr. pepys' last night." in one of walpole's letters about the same time we find: "all conversation turns on a trio of culprits--hastings, fitzgerald, and the cardinal de rohan.... so much for tragedy. our comic performers are boswell and dame piozzi. the cock biographer has fixed a direct lie on the hen, by an advertisement in which he affirms that he communicated his manuscript to madame thrale, and that she made no objection to what he says of her low opinion of mrs. montagu's book. it is very possible that it might not be her real opinion, but was uttered in compliment to johnson, or for fear he should spit in her face if she disagreed with him; but how will she get over her not objecting to the passage remaining? she must have known, by knowing boswell, and by having a similar intention herself, that his 'anecdotes' would certainly be published: in short, the ridiculous woman will be strangely disappointed. as she must have heard that _the whole first impression of her book was sold the first day_, no doubt she expected on her landing, to be received like the governor of gibraltar, and to find the road strewed with branches of palm. she, and boswell, and their hero, are the joke of the public. a dr. walcot, _soi-disant_ peter pindar, has published a burlesque eclogue, in which boswell and the signora are the interlocutors, and all the absurdest passages in the works of both are ridiculed. the print-shops teem with satiric prints in them: one in which boswell, as a monkey, is riding on johnson, the bear, has this witty inscription, 'my friend _delineavit_.' but enough of these mountebanks." what walpole calls the absurdest passages are precisely those which possess most interest for posterity; namely, the minute personal details, which bring johnson home to the mind's eye. peter pindar, however, was simply labouring in his vocation when he made the best of them, as in the following lines. his satire is in the form of a town eclogue, in which bozzy and madame piozzi contend in anecdotes, with hawkins for umpire: bozzy. "one thursday morn did doctor johnson wake, and call out 'lanky, lanky,' by mistake-- but recollecting--'bozzy, bozzy,' cry'd-- for in _contractions_ johnson took a pride!" madame piozzi. "i ask'd him if he knock'd tom osborn down; as such a tale was current through the town,-- says i, 'do tell me, doctor, what befell.'-- 'why, dearest lady, there is nought to _tell_; 'i ponder'd on the _proper'st_ mode to _treat_ him-- 'the dog was impudent, and so i beat him! 'tom, like a fool, proclaim'd his fancied wrongs; '_others_, that i belabour'd, held their tongues.'" "did any one, that he was _happy_, cry-- johnson would tell him plumply, 'twas a lie. a lady told him she was really so; on which he sternly answer'd, 'madam, no! 'sickly you are, and ugly--foolish, poor; 'and therefore can't he happy, i am sure. ''twould make a fellow hang himself, whose ear 'were, from such creatures, forc'd such stuff to hear.'" bozzy. "lo, when we landed on the isle of mull, the megrims got into the doctor's skull: with such bad humours he began to fill, i thought he would not go to icolmkill: but lo! those megrims (wonderful to utter!) were banish'd all by tea and bread and butter!" at last they get angry, and tell each other a few home truths:-- bozzy. "how could your folly tell, so void of truth, that miserable story of the youth, who, in your book, of doctor johnson begs most seriously to know if cats laid eggs!" madame piozzi. "_who_ told of mistress montagu the lie-- so palpable a falsehood?--bozzy, fie!" bozzy. "_who_, madd'ning with an anecdotic itch, declar'd that johnson call'd his mother _b-tch?_" madame piozzi. "_who_, from m'donald's rage to save his snout, cut twenty lines of defamation out?" bozzy. "_who_ would have said a word about sam's wig, or told the story of the peas and pig? who would have told a tale so very flat, of frank the black, and hodge the mangy cat?" madame piozzi. "good me! you're grown at once confounded _tender_; of doctor johnson's fame a _fierce_ defender: i'm sure you've mention'd many a pretty story not much redounding to the doctor's glory. _now_ for a _saint_ upon us you would palm him-- first _murder_ the poor man, and then _embalm him!_" bozzy. "well, ma'am! since all that johnson said or wrote, you hold so sacred, how have you forgot to grant the wonder-hunting world a reading of sam's epistle, just before your _wedding_: beginning thus, (in strains not form'd to flatter) 'madam, '_if that most ignominious matter 'be not concluded_'--[ ] farther shall i say? no--we shall have it from _yourself_ some day, to justify your passion for the _youth_, with all the charms of eloquence and truth." madame piozzi. "what was my marriage, sir, to _you_ or _him?_ _he_ tell me what to do!--a pretty whim! _he_, to _propriety_, (the beast) _resort!_ as well might _elephants preside_ at _court_. lord! let the world to _damn_ my match _agree;_ good god! james boswell, what's _that world_ to _me?_ the folks who paid respects to mistress thrale, fed on her pork, poor souls! and swill'd her ale, may _sicken_ at piozzi, nine in ten-- turn up the nose of scorn--good god! what then? for _me_, the dev'l may fetch their souls so _great_; _they_ keep their homes, and _i_, thank god, my meat. when they, poor owls! shall beat their cage, a jail, i, unconfin'd, shall spread my peacock tail; free as the birds of air, enjoy my ease, choose my own food, and see what climes i please. _i_ suffer only--if i'm in the wrong: so, now, you prating puppy, hold your tongue." [footnote : this evidently referred to the "adumbration" of johnson's letter (no. ), _antè_, p. .] walpole's opinion of the book itself had been expressed in a preceding letter, dated march th, : "two days ago appeared madame piozzi's anecdotes of dr. johnson. i am lamentably disappointed--in her, i mean: not in him. i had conceived a favourable opinion of her capacity. but this new book is wretched; a high-varnished preface to a heap of rubbish in a very vulgar style, and too void of method even for such a farrago. . . the signora talks of her doctor's _expanded_ mind and has contributed her mite to show that never mind was narrower. in fact, the poor woman is to be pitied: he was mad, and his disciples did not find it out[ ], but have unveiled all his defects; nay, have exhibited all his brutalities as wit, and his worst conundrums as humour. judge! the piozzi relates that a young man asking him where palmyra was, he replied: 'in ireland: it was a bog planted with palm trees.'" [footnote : see _antè_, p. and .] walpole's statement, that the whole first impression was sold the first day, is confirmed by one of her letters, and may be placed alongside of a statement of johnson's reported in the book. clarissa being mentioned as a perfect character, "on the contrary (said he) you may observe that there is always something which she prefers to truth. fielding's amelia was the most pleasing heroine of all the romances; but that vile broken nose never cured, ruined the sale of perhaps the only book, which, being printed off betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before night." when the king sent for a copy of the "anecdotes" on the evening of the publication, there was none to be had. in april, , hannah more writes: "mrs. piozzi's book is much in fashion. it is indeed entertaining, but there are two or three passages exceedingly unkind to garrick which filled me with indignation. if johnson had been envious enough to utter them, she might have been prudent enough to suppress them." in a preceding letter she had said: "boswell tells me he is printing anecdotes of dr. johnson, not his _life_, but, as he has the vanity to call it, his _pyramid_, i besought his tenderness for our virtuous and most revered departed friend, and begged he would mitigate some of his asperities. he said roughly, he would not cut off his claws, nor make a tiger a cat to please anybody." the retort will serve for both mrs. piozzi and himself. mrs. piozzi writes from venice, may th, : "cadell says he never yet published a work the sale of which was so rapid, and that rapidity of so long continuance. i suppose the fifth edition will meet me at my return." "milan, july th, . "if cadell would send me some copies, i should be very much obliged to him. _'tis like living without a looking-glass never to see one's own book so_." the copy of the "anecdotes" in my possession has two inscriptions on the blank leaves before the title-page. the one is in mrs. piozzi's handwriting: "this little dirty book is kindly accepted by sir james fellowes from his obliged friend, h.l. piozzi, th february, ;" the other: "this copy of the 'anecdotes' was found at bath, covered with dirt, the book having been long out of print[ ], and after being bound was presented to me by my excellent friend, h.l.p. (signed) j.f." [footnote : the "anecdotes" were reprinted by messrs. longman in , and form part of their "traveller's library."] it is enriched by marginal notes in her handwriting, which enable us to fill up a few puzzling blanks, besides supplying some information respecting men and books, which will be prized by all lovers of literature. one of the anecdotes runs thus: "i asked him once concerning the conversation powers of a gentleman with whom i was myself unacquainted. 'he talked to me at the club one day (replies our doctor) concerning catiline's conspiracy; so i withdrew my attention, and thought about tom thumb.'" in the margin is written "charles james fox." mr. croker came to the conclusion that the gentleman was mr. vesey. boswell says that fox never talked with any freedom in the presence of johnson, who accounted for his reserve by suggesting that a man who is used to the applause of the house of commons, has no wish for that of a private company. but the real cause was his sensitiveness to rudeness, his own temper being singularly sweet. by an odd coincidence he occupied the presidential chair at the club on the evening when johnson emphatically declared patriotism the last refuge of a scoundrel. again: "on an occasion of less consequence, when he turned his back on lord bolingbroke in the rooms of brighthelmstone, he made this excuse: 'i am not obliged, sir,' said he to mr. thrale, who stood fretting, 'to find reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not condescend to declare it by his dress or some other visible mark: what are stars and other signs of superiority made for?' the next evening, however, he made us comical amends, by sitting by the same nobleman, and haranguing very loudly about the nature, and use, and abuse, of divorces. many people gathered round them to hear what was said, and when my husband called him away, and told him to whom he had been talking, received an answer which i will not write down." the marginal note is: "he said: 'why, sir, i did not know the man. if he will put on no other mark of distinction, let us make him wear his horns.'" lord bolingbroke had divorced his wife, afterwards lady diana beauclerc, for infidelity. a marginal note naming the lady of quality (lady catherine wynne) mentioned in the following anecdote, verifies mr. croker's conjectural statement concerning her: "for a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at her husband's seat in wales, with less attention than he had long been accustomed to, he had a rougher denunciation: 'that woman,' cries johnson, 'is like sour small beer, the beverage of her table, and produce of the wretched country she lives in: like that, she could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is spoiled.' it was in the same vein of asperity, and i believe with something like the same provocation, that he observed of a scotch lady, 'that she resembled a dead nettle; were she alive,' said he, 'she would sting.'" from similar notes we learn that the "somebody" who declared johnson "a tremendous converser" was george grarrick; and that it was dr. delap, of sussex, to whom, when lamenting the tender state of his _inside_, he cried out: "dear doctor, do not be like the spider, man, and spin conversation thus incessantly out of thy own bowels." on the margin of the page in which hawkins browne is commended as the most delightful of conversers, she has written: "who wrote the 'imitation of all the poets' in his own ludicrous verses, praising the pipe of tobacco. of hawkins browne, the pretty mrs. cholmondeley said she was soon tired; because the first hour he was so dull, there was no bearing him; the second he was so witty, there was no bearing him; the third he was so drunk, there was no bearing him." [ ] [footnote : query, whether this is the gentleman immortalised by peter plymley: "in the third year of his present majesty (george iii.) and in the thirtieth of his own age, mr. isaac hawkins brown, then upon his travels, danced one evening at the court of naples. his dress was a volcano silk, with lava buttons. whether (as the neapolitan wits said) he had studied dancing under saint vitus, or whether david, dancing in a linen vest, was his model, is not known; but mr. brown danced with such inconceivable alacrity and vigour, that he threw the queen of naples into convulsions of laughter, which terminated in a miscarriage, and changed the dynasty of the neapolitan throne."] in the "anecdotes" she relates that one day in wales she meant to please johnson with a dish of young peas. "are they not charming?" said i, while he was eating them. "perhaps," said he, "they would be so--to a pig;" meaning (according to the marginal note), because they were too little boiled. pennant, the historian, used to tell this as having happened at mrs. cotton's, who, according to him, called out, "then do help yourself, mr. johnson." but the well-known high breeding of the lady justifies a belief that this is one of the many repartees which, if conceived, were never uttered at the time.[ ] [footnote : i have heard on good authority that pennant afterwards owned it as his own invention.] when a lincolnshire lady, shewing johnson a grotto, asked him: "would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer?" he replied: "i think it would, madam, _for a toad_." talking of gray's odes, he said, "they are forced plants, raised in a hotbed; and they are poor plants: they are but cucumbers after all." a gentleman present, who had been running down ode-writing in general, as a bad species of poetry, unluckily said, "had they been literally cucumbers, they had been better things than odes." "yes, sir," said johnson, "_for a hog_." to return to the anecdotes: "of the various states and conditions of humanity, he despised none more, i think, than the man who marries for maintenance: and of a friend who made his alliance on no higher principles, he said once, 'now has that fellow,' it was a nobleman of whom we were speaking, 'at length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will get his neck galled for life with a collar.'" the nobleman was lord sandys. "he recommended, on something like the same principle, that when one person meant to serve another, he should not go about it slily, or, as we say, underhand, out of a false idea of delicacy, to surprise one's friend with an unexpected favour; 'which, ten to one,' says he, 'fails to oblige your acquaintance, who had some reasons against such a mode of obligation, which you might have known but for that superfluous cunning which you think an elegance. oh! never be seduced by such silly pretences,' continued he; 'if a wench wants a good gown, do not give her a fine smelling-bottle, because that is more delicate: as i once knew a lady lend the key of her library to a poor scribbling dependant, as if she took the woman for an ostrich that could digest iron.'" this lady was mrs. montagu. "i mentioned two friends who were particularly fond of looking at themselves in a glass--'they do not surprise me at all by so doing,' said johnson: 'they see reflected in that glass, men who have risen from almost the lowest situations in life; one to enormous riches, the other to everything this world can give--rank, fame, and fortune. they see, likewise, men who have merited their advancement by the exertion and improvement of those talents which god had given them; and i see not why they should avoid the mirror.'" the one, she writes, was mr. cator, the other, wedderburne. another great lawyer and very ugly man, dunning, lord ashburton, was remarkable for the same peculiarity, and had his walls covered with looking-glasses. his personal vanity was excessive; and his boast that a celebrated courtesan had died with one of his letters in her hand, provoked one of wilkes's happiest repartees. opposite a passage descriptive of johnson's conversation she has written: "we used to say to one another familiarly at streatham park, 'come, let us go into the library, and make johnson speak ramblers.'" dr. lort writes to bishop percy: "december th, . "i had a letter lately from mrs. piozzi, dated vienna, november , in which she says that, after visiting prague and dresden, she shall return home by brussels, whither i have written to her; and i imagine she will be in london early in the new year. miss thrale is at her own house at brighthelmstone, accompanied by a very respectable companion, an officer's widow, recommended to her as such.[ ] there is a new life of johnson published by a dr. towers, a dissenting minister and dr. kippis's associate in the biographia britannica, for which work i take it for granted this life is to be hashed up again when the letter 'j' takes its turn. there is nothing new in it; and the author gives johnson and his biographers all fair play, except when he treats of his political opinions and pamphlets. i was glad to hear that johnson confessed to dr. fordyce, a little before his death, that he had offended both god and man by his pride of understanding.[ ] sir john hawkins' life of him is also finished, and will be published with the works in february next. from all these i suppose boswell will borrow largely to make up his quarto life;--and so our modern authors proceed, preying on one another, and complaining sorely of each other." [footnote : the hon. mrs. murray, afterwards mrs. aust!] [footnote : he used very different language to langton.] "march th, . "i had a letter lately from mrs. piozzi from brussels, intimating that she should soon be in england, and i expect every day to hear of her arrival. i do not believe that she purchased a marquisate abroad; but it is said, with some probability, that she will here get the king's license, or an act of parliament, to change her name to salusbury, her maiden name. sir john hawkins, i am told, bears hard upon her in his 'life of johnson.'" "march st, . "mr. and mrs. piozzi are arrived at an hotel in pall mall, and are about to take a house in hanover square; they were with me last saturday evening, when i asked some of her friends to meet her; she looks very well, and seems in good spirits; told me she had been that morning at the bank to get 'johnson's correspondence' amongst other papers, which she means forthwith to commit to the press. there is a bookseller has printed two supplementary volumes to hawkins' eleven, consisting almost wholly of the 'lilliputian speeches.' hawkins has printed a review of the 'sublime and beautiful' as johnson's, which murphy says was his." "march th, . "mrs. piozzi and her _caro sposo_ seem very happy here at a good house in hanover square, where i am invited to a rout next week, the first i believe she has attempted, and then will be seen who of her old acquaintance continue such. she is now printing johnson's letters in vols. octavo, with some of her own; but if they are not ready before the recess they will not be published till next winter. poor sir john hawkins, i am told, is pulled all to pieces in the review." sir john was treated according to his deserts, and did not escape whipping. one of the severest castigations was inflicted by porson. before mentioning her next publication, i will show from "thraliana" her state of mind when about to start for england, and her impressions of things and people on her return: " .--it has always been my maxim never to influence the inclination of another: mr. thrale, in consequence, lived with me seventeen and a half years, during which time i tried but twice to persuade him to _do_ anything, and but once, and that in vain, to let anything alone. even my daughters, as soon as they could reason, were always allowed, and even encouraged, by me to reason their own way, and not suffer their respect or affection for me to mislead their judgment. let us keep the mind clear if we can from prejudices, or truth will never be found at all.[ ] the worst part of this disinterested scheme is, that other people are not of my mind, and if i resolve not to use my lawful influence to make my children love me, the lookers-on will soon use their unlawful influence to make them hate me: if i scrupulously avoid persuading my husband to become a lutheran or be of the english church, the romanists will be diligent to teach him all the narrowness and bitterness of their own unfeeling sect, and soon persuade him that it is not delicacy but weakness makes me desist from the combat. well! let me do right, and leave the consequences in his hand who alone sees every action's motive and the true cause of every effect: let me endeavour to please god, and to have only my own faults and follies, not those of another, to answer for." [footnote : "clear your mind of _cant_."--johnson.] " , _may_ _st_.--it was not wrong to come home after all, but very right. the italians would have said we were afraid to face england, and the english would have said we were confined abroad in prisons or convents or some stuff. i find mr. smith (one of our daughter's guardians) told that poor baby cecilia a fine staring tale how my husband locked me up at milan and fed me on bread and water, to make the child hate mr. piozzi. good god! what infamous proceeding was this! my husband never saw the fellow, so could not have provoked him." "_may_ _th_.--we bad a fine assembly last night indeed: in my best days i never had finer: there were near a hundred people in the rooms which were besides much admired." " , _january_ _st_.--how little i thought this day four years that i should celebrate this st of january, , here at bath, surrounded with friends and admirers? the public partial to _me_, and almost every individual whose kindness is worth wishing for, sincerely attached to my husband." "mrs. byron is converted by piozzi's assiduity, she really likes him now: and sweet mrs. lambert told everybody at bath she was in love with him." "i have passed a delightful winter in spite of them, caressed by my friends, adored by my husband, amused with every entertainment that is going forward: what need i think about three sullen misses? ... and yet!"---- "_august_ _st_--baretti has been grossly abusive in the 'european magazine' to me: _that_ hurts me but little; what shocks me is that those treacherous burneys should abet and puff him. he is a most ungrateful because unprincipled wretch; but i _am_ sorry that anything belonging to dr. burney should be so monstrously wicked." " , _january_ _th_.--mrs. siddons dined in a coterie of my unprovoked enemies yesterday at porteous's. she mentioned our concerts, and the erskines lamented their absence from one we gave two days ago, at which mrs. garrick was present and gave a good report to the _blues_. charming blues! blue with venom i think; i suppose they begin to be ashamed of their paltry behaviour. mrs. grarrick, more prudent than any of them, left a loophole for returning friendship to fasten through, and it _shall_ fasten: that woman has lived a _very wise life_, regular and steady in her conduct, attentive to every word she speaks and every step she treads, decorous in her manners and graceful in her person. my fancy forms the queen just like mrs. grarrick: they are countrywomen and have, as the phrase is, had a hard card to play; yet never lurched by tricksters nor subdued by superior powers, they will rise from the table unhurt either by others or themselves ... having played a _saving game. i_ have run risques to be sure, that i have; yet-- "'when after some distinguished leap she drops her pole and seems to slip, straight gath'ring all her active strength, she rises higher half her length;' and better than _now_ i have never stood with the world in general, i believe. may the books just sent to press confirm the partiality of the public!" " , _january_.--i have a great deal more prudence than people suspect me for: they think i act by chance while i am doing nothing in the world unintentionally, and have never, i dare say, in these last fifteen years uttered a word to husband, or child, or servant, or friend, without being very careful what it should be. often have i spoken what i have repented after, but that was want of _judgment_, not of _meaning_. what i said i meant to say at the time, and thought it best to say, ... i do not err from haste or a spirit of rattling, as people think i do: when i err, 'tis because i make a false conclusion, not because i make no conclusion at all; when i rattle, i rattle on purpose." " , _may_ _st_.--mrs. montagu wants to make up with me again. i dare say she does; but i will not be taken and left even at the pleasure of those who are much nearer and dearer to me than mrs. montagu. we want no flash, no flattery. i never had more of either in my life, nor ever lived half so happily: mrs. montagu wrote creeping letters when she wanted my help, or foolishly _thought_ she did, and then turned her back upon me and set her adherents to do the same. i despise such conduct, and mr. pepys, mrs. ord, &c. now sneak about and look ashamed of themselves--well they may!" " , _march_ _th_.--i met miss burney at an assembly last night--'tis six years since i had seen her: she appeared most fondly rejoyced, in good time! and mrs. locke, at whose house we stumbled on each other, pretended that she had such a regard for me, &c. i answered with ease and coldness, but in exceeding good humour: and we talked of the king and queen, his majesty's illness and recovery ... and all ended, as it should do, with perfect indifference." "i saw _master pepys_[ ] too and mrs. ord; and only see how foolish and how mortified the people do but look." [footnote : this is sir w. pepys mentioned _antè_, p. .] "barclay and perkins live very genteelly. i dined with them at our brewhouse one day last week. i felt so oddly in the old house where i had lived so long." "the pepyses find out that they have used me very ill.... i hope they find out too that i do not care, seward too sues for reconcilement underhand ... so they do all; and i sincerely forgive them--but, like the linnet in 'metastasio'-- "'cauto divien per prova nè più tradir si fà.' "'when lim'd, the poor bird thus with eagerness strains, nor regrets his torn wing while his freedom he gains: the loss of his plumage small time will restore, and once tried the false twig--it shall cheat him no more.'" " , _july_ _th_.--we have kept our seventh wedding day and celebrated our return to _this house_[ ] with prodigious splendour and gaiety. seventy people to dinner.... never was a pleasanter day seen, and at night the trees and front of the house were illuminated with coloured lamps that called forth our neighbours from all the adjacent villages to admire and enjoy the diversion. many friends swear that not less than a thousand men, women, and children might have been counted in the house and grounds, where, though all were admitted, nothing was stolen, lost, or broken, or even damaged--a circumstance almost incredible; and which gave mr. piozzi a high opinion of english gratitude and respectful attachment." [footnote : streatham.] " , _december st_.--dr. parr and i are in correspondence, and his letters are very flattering: i am proud of his notice to be sure, and he seems pleased with my acknowledgments of esteem: he is a prodigious scholar ... but in the meantime i have lost dr. lort."[ ] [footnote : he died november th, .] in the conway notes, she thus sums up her life from march to : "on first reaching london, we drove to the royal hotel in pall mall, and, arriving early, i proposed going to the play. there was a small front box, in those days, which held only two; it made the division, or connexion, with the side boxes, and, being unoccupied, we sat in it, and saw mrs. siddons act imogen, i well remember, and mrs. jordan, priscilla tomboy. mr. piozzi was amused, and the next day was spent in looking at houses, counting the cards left by old acquaintances, &c. the lady-daughters came, behaved with cold civility, and asked what i thought of _their_ decision concerning cecilia, then at school. no reply was made, or a gentle one; but she was the first cause of contention among us. the lawyers gave her into my care, and we took her home to our new habitation in hanover square, which we opened with music, cards, &c., on, i think, the nd march. miss thrales refused their company; so we managed as well as we could. our affairs were in good order, and money ready for spending. the world, as it is called, appeared good-humoured, and we were soon followed, respected, and admired. the summer months sent us about visiting and pleasuring, ... and after another gay london season, streatham park, unoccupied by tenants, called us as if _really home_. mr. piozzi, with more generosity than prudence, spent two thousand pounds on repairing and furnishing it in ;--and we had danced all night, i recollect, when the news came of louis seize's escape from, and recapture by, his rebel subjects.'" the following are some of the names most frequently mentioned in her diary as visiting or corresponding with her after her return from italy: lord fife, dr. moore, the kembles, dr. currie, mrs. lewis (widow of the dean of ossory), dr. lort, sir lucas pepys, mr. selwin, sammy lysons (_sic_), sir philip clerke, hon. mrs. byron, mrs. siddons, arthur murphy, mr. and mrs. whalley, the greatheads, mr. parsons, miss seward, miss lee, dr. barnard (bishop of killaloe, better known as dean of derry), hinchcliffe (bishop of peterborough), mrs. lambert, the staffords, lord huntingdon, lady betty cobb and her daughter mrs. gould, lord dudley, lord cowper, lord pembroke, marquis araciel, count marteningo, count meltze, mrs. drummond smith, mr. chappelow, mrs. hobart, miss nicholson, mrs. locke, lord deerhurst. resentment for her imputed unkindness to johnson might have been expected to last longest at his birthplace. but miss seward writes from lichfield, october th, : "mrs. piozzi completely answers your description: her conversation is indeed that bright wine of the intellects which has no lees.... i shall always feel indebted to him (mr. perkins) for eight or nine hours of mr. and mrs. piozzi's society. they passed one evening here, and i the next with them at their inn." again to miss helen williams, lichfield, december, th, : "yes, it is very true, on the evening he (colonel barry) mentioned to you, when mrs. piozzi honoured this roof, his conversation greatly contributed to its attic spirit. till that day i had never conversed with her. there has been no exaggeration, there could be none, in the description given you of mrs. piozzi's talents for conversation; at least in the powers of classic allusion and brilliant wit." mrs. piozzi's next publication was "letters to and from the late samuel johnson, ll.d., &c." in the preface she speaks of the "anecdotes" having been received with a degree of approbation she hardly dared to hope, and exclaims, "may these letters in some measure pay my debt of gratitude! they will not surely be the _first_, the _only_ thing written by johnson, with which our nation has not been pleased." ... "the good taste by which our countrymen are distinguished, will lead them to prefer the native thoughts and unstudied phrases scattered over these pages to the more laboured elegance of his other works; as bees have been observed to reject roses, and fix upon the wild fragrance of a neighbouring heath." whenever johnson took pen in hand, the chances were, that what he produced would belong to the composite order; the unstudied phrases were reserved for his "talk;" and he wished his letters to be preserved.[ ] the main value of these consists in the additional illustrations they afford of his conduct in private life, and of his opinions on the management of domestic affairs. the lack of literary and public interest is admitted and excused: [footnote : "do you keep my letters? i am not of your opinion that i shall not like to read them hereafter."--_letters_, vol. i. p. .] "none but domestic and familiar events can be expected from a private correspondence; no reflexions but such as they excite can be found there; yet whoever turns away disgusted by the insipidity with which this, and i suppose every correspondence must naturally and almost necessarily begin--will here be likely to lose some genuine pleasure, and some useful knowledge of what our heroic milton was himself contented to respect, as "'that which before thee lies in daily life.' "and should i be charged with obtruding trifles on the public, i might reply, that the meanest animals preserved in amber become of value to those who form collections of natural history; that the fish found in monte bolca serve as proofs of sacred writ; and that the cart-wheel stuck in the rock of tivoli, is now found useful in computing the rotation of the earth." in "thraliana" she thus refers to the reception of the book: "the letters are out. they were published on saturday, th of march. cadell printed , copies, and says , are already sold. my letter to jack rice on his marriage (vol. i. p. ), seems the universal favourite. the book is well spoken of on the whole; yet cadell murmurs. i cannot make out why." this entry is not dated; the next is dated march th, . "this collection," says boswell, "as a proof of the high estimation set on any thing that came from his pen, was sold by that lady for the sum of _l_." she has written on the margin: "how spiteful." boswell states that "horace walpole thought johnson a more amiable character after reading his letters to mrs. thrale, but never was one of the true admirers of that great man." madame d'arblay came to an opposite conclusion; in her diary, january th, , she writes: "to-day mrs. schwellenberg did me a real favour, and with real good nature, for she sent me the letters of my poor lost friends, dr. johnson and mrs. thrale, which she knew me to be almost pining to procure. the book belongs to the bishop of carlisle, who lent it to mr. turbulent, from whom it was again lent to the queen, and so passed on to mrs. s. it is still unpublished. with what a sadness have i been reading! what scenes has it revived! what regrets renewed! these letters have not been more improperly published in the whole than they are injudiciously displayed in their several parts. she has given all, every word, and thinks that perhaps a justice to dr. johnson, which, in fact, is the greatest injury to his memory. "the few she has selected of her own do her, indeed, much credit; she has discarded all that were trivial and merely local, and given only such as contain something instructive, amusing, or ingenious." she admits only four of johnson's letters to be worthy of his exalted powers: one upon death, in considering its approach, as we are surrounded, or not, by mourners; another upon the sudden death of mrs. thrale's only son. her chief motive for "almost pining" for the book, steeped as she was in egotism, may be guessed: "our name once occurred; how i started at its sight! 'tis to mention the party that planned the first visit to our house." she says she had so many attacks upon "her (mrs. piozzi's) subject," that at last she fairly begged quarter. yet nothing she could say could put a stop to, "how can you defend her in this? how can you justify her in that? &c. &c." "alas! that i cannot defend her is precisely the reason i can so ill bear to speak of her. how differently and how sweetly has the queen conducted herself upon this occasion. eager to see the letters, she began reading them with the utmost avidity. a natural curiosity arose to be informed of several names and several particulars, which she knew i could satisfy; yet when she perceived how tender a string she touched, she soon suppressed her inquiries, or only made them with so much gentleness towards the parties mentioned, that i could not be distressed in my answers; and even in a short time i found her questions made in so favourable a disposition, that i began secretly to rejoice in them, as the means by which i reaped opportunity of clearing several points that had been darkened by calumny, and of softening others that had been viewed wholly through false lights. to lessen disapprobation of a person, and so precious to me in the opinion of another, so respectable both in rank and virtue, was to me a most soothing task, &c." this is precisely what many will take the liberty to doubt; or why did she shrink from it, or why did she not afford to others the explanations which proved so successful with the queen? the day following (jan. th), her feelings were so worked upon by the harsh aspersions on her friend, that she was forced, she tells us, abruptly to quit the room; leaving not her own (like sir peter teazle) but her friend's character behind her: "i returned when i could, and the subject was over. when all were gone, mrs. schwellenberg said, 'i have told it mr. fisher, that he drove you out from the room, and he says he won't do it no more.' "she told me next, that in the second volume i also, was mentioned. where she may have heard this i cannot gather, but it has given me a sickness at heart, inexpressible. it is not that i expect severity; for at the time of that correspondence, at all times indeed previous to the marriage with piozzi, if mrs. thrale loved not f. b., where shall we find faith in words, or give credit to actions. but her present resentment, however unjustly incurred, of my constant disapprobation of her conduct, may prompt some note, or other mark, to point out her change of sentiment. but let me try to avoid such painful expectations; at least not to dwell upon them. o, little does she know how tenderly at this moment i could run into her arms, so often opened to receive me with a cordiality i believed inalienable. and it was sincere then, i am satisfied; pride, resentment of disapprobation, and consciousness if unjustifiable proceedings--these have now changed her; but if we met, and she saw and believed my faithful regard, how would she again feel all her own return! well, what a dream i am making!" the ingrained worldliness of the diarist is ill-concealed by the mask of sensibility. the correspondence that passed between the ladies during their temporary rupture (_antè_, p. ) shews that there was nothing to prevent her from flying into her friend's arms, could she have made up her mind to be seen on open terms of affectionate intimacy with one who was repudiated by the court. in a subsequent conversation with which the queen honoured her on the subject, she did her best to impress her majesty with the belief that mrs. piozzi's conduct had rendered it impossible for her former friends to allude to her without regret, and she ended by thanking her royal mistress for her forbearance. "indeed," cried she, with eyes strongly expressive of the complacency with which she heard me, "i have always spoken as little as possible upon this affair. i remember but twice that i have named it: once i said to the bishop of carlisle that i thought most of these letters had better have been spared the printing; and once to mr. langton, at the drawing-room i said, 'your friend dr. johnson, sir, has had many friends busy to publish his books, and his memoirs, and his meditations, and his thoughts; but i think he wanted one friend more.' 'what for, ma'am?' cried he. 'a friend to suppress them,' i answered. and, indeed, this is all i ever said about the business." hannah more's opinion of the letters is thus expressed in her memoirs: "they are such as ought to have been written but ought not to have been printed: a few of them are very good: sometimes he is moral, and sometimes he is kind. the imprudence of editors and executors is an additional reason why men of parts should be afraid to die.[ ] burke said to me the other day, in allusion to the innumerable lives, anecdotes, remains, &c. of this great man, 'how many maggots have crawled out of that great body!'" [footnote : in reference to the late lord campbell's "lives of the lord chancellors," it was remarked, that, as regards persons who had attained the dignity, the threatened continuation of the work had added a new pang to death. i am assured by the ex-chancellor to whom i attributed this joke, that it was made by sir charles wetherell at a dinner at lincoln's-inn.] miss seward writes to mrs. knowles, april, : "and now what say you to the last publication of your sister wit, mrs. piozzi? it is well that she has had the good nature to extract almost all the corrosive particles from the old growler's letters. by means of her benevolent chemistry, these effusions of that expansive but gloomy spirit taste more oily and sweet than one could have imagined possible." the letters contained two or three passages relating to baretti, which exasperated him to the highest pitch. one was in a letter from johnson, dated july th, : "the doctor says, that if mr. thrale comes so near as derby without seeing us, it will be a sorry trick. i wish, for my part, that he may return soon, and rescue the fair captives from the tyranny of b----i. poor b----i! do not quarrel with him; to neglect him a little will be sufficient. he means only to be frank, and manly, and independent, and perhaps, as you say, a little wise. to be frank, he thinks is to be cynical, and to be independent, is to be rude. forgive him, dearest lady, the rather, because of his misbehaviour, i am afraid he learned part of me. i hope to set him hereafter a better example." the most galling was in a letter of hers to dr. johnson: "how does dr. taylor do? he was very kind i remember when my thunder-storm came first on, so was count manucci, so was mrs. montagu, so was everybody. the world is not guilty of much general harshness, nor inclined i believe to increase pain which they do not perceive to be deserved.--baretti alone tried to irritate a wound so very deeply inflicted, and he will find few to approve his cruelty. your friendship is our best cordial; continue it to us, dear sir, and write very soon." in the margin of the printed copy is written, "cruel, cruel baretti." he had twitted her, whilst mourning over a dead child, with having killed it by administering a quack medicine instead of attending to the physician's prescriptions; a charge which he acknowledged and repeated in print. he published three successive papers in "the european magazine" for , assailing her with the coarsest ribaldry. "i have just read for the first time," writes miss seward in june, , "the base, ungentleman-like, unmanly abuse of mrs. piozzi by that italian assassin, baretti. the whole literary world should unite in publicly reprobating such venomed and foul-mouthed railing." he died soon afterwards, may th, , and the notice of him in the "gentleman's magazine" begins: "mrs. piozzi has reason to rejoice in the death of mr. baretti, for he had a very long memory and malice to relate all he knew." and a good deal that he did not know, into the bargain; as when he prints a pretended conversation between mr. and mrs. thrale about piozzi, which he afterwards admits to be a gratuitous invention and rhetorical figure of his own, for conveying what is a foolish falsehood on the face of it. baretti's death is thus noticed in "thraliana," th may, : "baretti is dead. poor baretti! i am sincerely sorry for him, and as zanga says, 'if i lament thee, sure thy worth was great.' he was a manly character, at worst, and died, as he lived, less like a christian than a philosopher, refusing all spiritual or corporeal assistance, both which he considered useless to him, and perhaps they were so. he paid his debts, called in some single acquaintance, told him he was dying, and drove away that _panada_ conversation which friends think proper to administer at sick-bedsides with becoming steadiness, bid him write his brothers word that he was dead, and gently desired a woman who waited to leave him quite alone. no interested attendants watching for ill-deserved legacies, no harpy relatives clung round the couch of baretti. he died! "'and art thou dead? so is my enmity: i war not with the dead.' "baretti's papers--manuscripts i mean--have been all burnt by his executors without examination, they tell me. so great was his character as a mischief-maker, that vincent and fendall saw no nearer way to safety than that hasty and compendious one. many people think 'tis a good thing for me, but as i never trusted the man, i see little harm he could have done me." in the fury of his onslaught baretti forgot that he was strengthening her case against johnson, of whom he says: "his austere reprimand, and unrestrained upbraidings, when face to face with her, always delighted mr. thrale and were approved even by her children. 'harry,' said his father to her son, 'are you listening to what the doctor and mamma are talking about?' 'yes, papa.' and quoth mr. thrale, 'what are they saying?' 'they are disputing, and mamma has just such a chance with dr. johnson as presto (a little dog) would have were he to fight dash (a big one).'" he adds that she left the room in a huff to the amusement of the party. if scenes like this were frequent, no wonder the "yoke" became unendurable. baretti was obliged to admit that, when johnson died, they were not on speaking terms. his explanation is that johnson irritated him by an allusion to his being beaten by omai, the sandwich islander, at chess. mrs. piozzi's marginal note on omai is: "when omai played at chess and at backgammon with baretti, everybody admired at the savage's good breeding and at the european's impatient spirit." amongst her papers was the following sketch of his character, written for "the world" newspaper. "_mr. conductor_.--let not the death of baretti pass unnoticed by 'the world,' seeing that baretti was a wit if not a scholar: and had for five-and-thirty years at least lived in a foreign country, whose language he so made himself completely master of, that he could satirise its inhabitants in their own tongue, better than they knew how to defend themselves; and often pleased, without ever praising man or woman in book or conversation. long supported by the private bounty of friends, he rather delighted to insult than flatter; he at length obtained competence from a public he esteemed not: and died, refusing that assistance he considered as useless--leaving no debts (but those of gratitude) undischarged; and expressing neither regret of the past, nor fear of the future, i believe. strong in his prejudices, haughty and independent in his spirit, cruel in his anger,--even when unprovoked; vindictive to excess, if he through misconception supposed himself even slightly injured, pertinacious in his attacks, invincible in his aversions: the description of menelaus in 'homer's iliad,' as rendered by pope, exactly suits the character of baretti: "'so burns the vengeful hornet, soul all o'er, repuls'd in vain, and thirsty still for gore; bold son of air and heat on angry wings, untamed, untired, he turns, attacks, and stings.'" in reference to this article, she remarks in "thraliana": "there seems to be a language now appropriated to the newspapers, and a very wretched and unmeaning language it is. yet a certain set of expressions are so necessary to please the diurnal readers, that when johnson and i drew up an advertisement for charity once, i remember the people altered our expressions and substituted their own, with good effect too. the other day i sent a character of baretti to 'the world,' and read it two mornings after more altered than improved in my mind: but no matter: they will talk of _wielding_ a language, and of _barbarous_ infamy,--sad stuff, to be sure, but such is the taste of the times. they altered even my quotation from pope; but that was too impudent." the comparison of baretti to the hornet was truer than she anticipated: _animamque in vulnere ponit_. internal evidence leads almost irresistibly to the conclusion that he was the author or prompter of "the _sentimental_ mother: a comedy in five acts. the legacy of an old friend, and his 'last moral lesson' to mrs. hester lynch thrale, now mrs. hester lynch piozzi. london: printed for james ridgeway, york street, st. james's square, . price three shillings." the principal _dramatis personæ_ are mr. timothy tunskull (thrale), lady fantasma tunskull, two misses tunskull, and signor squalici. lady fantasma is vain, affected, silly, and amorous to excess. not satisfied with squalici as her established gallant, she makes compromising advances to her daughter's lover on his way to a _tête-à-téte_ with the young lady, who takes her wonted place on his knee with his arm round her waist. squalici is also a domestic spy, and in league with the mother to cheat the daughters of their patrimony. mr. tunskull is a respectable and complacent nonentity. the dialogue is seasoned with the same malicious insinuations which mark baretti's letters in the "european magazine;" without the saving clause with which shame or fear induced him to qualify them, namely, that no breach of chastity was suspected or believed. it is difficult to imagine who else would have thought of reverting to thrale's establishment eight years after it had been broken up by death; and in one of his papers in the "european magazine," he holds out a threat that she might find herself the subject of a play: "who knows but some one of our modern dramatic geniusses may hereafter entertain the public with a laughable comedy in five long acts, entitled, with singular propriety, 'the _scientific_ mother'?" mrs. piozzi had some-how contracted a belief, to which she alludes more than once with unfeigned alarm, that mr. samuel lysons had formed a collection of all the libels and caricatures of which she was the subject on the occasion of her marriage. his collections have been carefully examined, and the sole semblance of warrant for her fears is an album or scrap-book containing numerous extracts from the reviews and newspapers, relating to her books. the only caricature preserved in it is the celebrated one by sayers entitled "johnson's ghost." the ghost, a flattering likeness of the doctor, addresses a pretty woman seated at a writing table: "when streatham spread its pleasant board, i opened learning's valued hoard, and as i feasted, prosed. good things i said, good things i eat, i gave you knowledge for your meat, and thought th' account was closed. "if obligations still i owed, you sold each item to the crowd, i suffered by the tale. for god's sake, madam, let me rest, no longer vex your _quondam_ guest, i'll pay you for your ale." when a prize was offered for the best address on the rebuilding of drury lane, sheridan proposed an additional reward for one without a phoenix. equally acceptable for its rarity would be a squib on mrs. piozzi without a reference to the brewery. her manuscript notes on the two volumes of letters are numerous and important, comprising some curious fragments of autobiography, written on separate sheets of paper and pasted into the volumes opposite to the passages which they expand or explain. they would create an inconvenient break in the narrative if introduced here, and they are reserved for a separate section. her next literary labour is thus mentioned in "thraliana": "while piozzi was gone to london i worked at my travel book, and wrote it in two months complete--but 'tis all to correct and copy over again. while my husband was away i wrote him these lines: he staid just a fortnight: "i think i've worked exceeding hard to finish five score pages. i write you this upon a card, in hopes you'll pay my wages. the servants all get drunk or mad, this heat their blood enrages, but your return will make me glad,-- that hope one pain assuages. "to shew more kindness, we defy all nations and all ages, and quite prefer your company to all the seven sages. then hasten home, oh, haste away! and lengthen not your stages; we then will sing, and dance and play, and quit awhile our cages." she had now taken rank as a popular writer, and thought herself entitled to use corresponding language to her publisher: "mr. cadell,--sir, this is a letter of business. i have finished the book of observations and reflections made in the course of my journey thro' france, italy, and germany, and if you have a mind to purchase the ms. i make you the first offer of it. here, if complaints had any connection with business, i would invent a thousand, and they should be very kind ones too; but it is better to tell you the size and price of the book. my calculations bring it to a thousand pages of letter-press like dr. moore's; or you might print it in three small volumes, to go with the 'anecdotes.' be that as it will, the price, at a word (as the advertisers say of their horse), is guineas and twelve copies to give away, though i will not, like them, warrant it free from blemishes. no creature has looked over the papers but lord huntingdon, and he likes them exceedingly. direct your answer here, if you write immediately; if not, send the letter under cover to mrs. lewis, london street, reading, berks; and believe me, dear sir, your faithful humble servant, "h. l. piozzi. "bennet street, bath, friday, nov. th, ." whether these terms were accepted, does not appear; but in dec. she published (cadell and strahan) "observations and reflections made in the course of a journey through france, italy, and germany," in two volumes octavo of about pages each. as happened to almost everything she did or wrote, this book, which she calls the "travel-book," was by turns assailed with inveterate hostility and praised with animated zeal. it would seem that sustained calumny had seasoned her against the malevolence of criticism. on the passage in johnson's letter to t. warton, "i am little afraid for myself," her comment is: "that is just what i feel when insulted, not about literary though, but social quarrels. the others are not worth a thought." in "thraliana," dec. th, , she writes: "i think my observations and reflexions in italy, &c., have been, upon the whole, exceedingly well liked, and much read." walpole writes to mrs. carter, june th, : "i do not mean to misemploy much of your time, which i know is always passed in good works, and usefully. you have, therefore, probably not looked into piozzi's travels. i, who have been almost six weeks lying on a couch, have gone through them. it was said that addison might have written his without going out of england. by the excessive vulgarisms so plentiful in these volumes, one might suppose the writer had never stirred out of the parish of st. giles. her latin, french, and italian, too, are so miserably spelt, that she had better have studied her own language before she floundered into other tongues. her friends plead that she piques herself on writing as she talks: methinks, then, she should talk as she would write. there are many indiscretions too in her work of which she will perhaps be told though baretti is dead." miss seward, much to her credit, repeated to mrs. piozzi both the praise and the blame she had expressed to others. on december st, , she writes: "suffer me now to speak to you of your highly ingenious, instructive, and entertaining publication; yet shall it be with the sincerity of friendship, rather than with the flourish of compliment. no work of the sort i ever read possesses, in an equal degree, the power of placing the reader in the scenes and amongst the people it describes. wit, knowledge, and imagination illuminate its pages--but the infinite inequality of the style!--permit me to acknowledge to you what i have acknowledged to others, that it excites my exhaustless wonder, that mrs. piozzi, the child of genius, the pupil of johnson, should pollute, with the vulgarisms of unpolished conversation, her animated pages!--that, while she frequently displays her power of commanding the most chaste and beautiful style imaginable, she should generally use those inelegant, those strange _dids_, and _does_, and _thoughs_, and _toos_, which produce jerking angles, and stop-short abruptness, fatal at once to the grace and ease of the sentence;--which are, in language, what the rusty black silk handkerchief and the brass ring are upon the beautiful form of the italian countess she mentions, arrayed in embroidery, and blazing in jewels." mrs. piozzi's theory was that books should he written in the same colloquial and idiomatic language which is employed by cultivated persons in conversation, "be thou familiar, but by no means vulgar;" and vulgar she certainly was not, although she sometimes indulged her fondness for familiarity too far. the period was unluckily chosen for carrying such a theory into practice; for johnson's authority had discountenanced idiomatic writing, whilst many phrases and forms of speech, which would not be endured now, were tolerated in polite society. the laws of spelling, too, were unfixed or vague, and those of pronunciation, which more or less affect spelling, still more so. "when," said johnson, "i published the plan of my dictionary, lord chesterfield told me that the word _great_ should be pronounced so as to rhyme to _state_; and sir william yonge sent me word that it should be pronounced so as to rhyme to _seat_, and that none but an irishman would pronounce it _grait_. now here were two men of the highest rank, one the best speaker in the house of lords, the other the best speaker in the house of commons, differing entirely." mrs. piozzi has written on the margin:--"sir william was in the right." two well-known couplets of pope imply similar changes:-- "dreading e'en fools, by flatterers besieged, and so obliging that he ne'er obliged." * * * * * "here thou, great anna, whom three realms obey, dost sometimes counsel take, and sometimes tea." within living memory, elderly people of quality, both in writing and conversation, stuck to lunnun, brummagem, and cheyny (china). charles fox would not give up "bour_dux_." johnson pronounced "heard" _heerd_. in "flirtation" was deemed a vulgar word.[ ] lord byron wrote _redde_ (for _read_, in the past tense), and lord dudley declined being helped to apple _tart_. when, therefore, we find mrs. piozzi using words or idioms rejected by modern taste or fastidiousness, we must not be too ready to accuse her of ignorance or vulgarity. i have commonly retained her original syntax, and her spelling, which frequently varies within a page. [footnote : "those abstractions of different pairs from the rest of the society, which i must call 'flirtation,' spite of the vulgarity of the term."--_journal kept during a visit to germany_ in and . edited by the dean of westminster (not published), p. .] two days afterwards, walpole returns to the charge in a letter to miss berry, which is alone sufficient to prove the worthlessness of his literary judgments:-- "read 'sindbad the sailor's voyages,' and you will be sick of Æneas's. what woful invention were the nasty poultry that dunged on his dinner, and ships on fire turned into nereids! a barn metamorphosed into a cascade in a pantomime is full as sublime an effort of genius.... i do not think the sultaness's narratives very natural or very probable, but there is a wildness in them that captivates. however, if you could wade through two octavos of dame piozzi's _though's_ and _so's_ and _i trows_, and cannot listen to seven volumes of scheherezade's narratives, i will sue for a divorce in foro parnassi, and boccalini shall be my proctor." a single couplet of gifford's was more damaging than all walpole's petulance: "see thrale's grey widow with a satchel roam, and bring in pomp laborious nothings home."[ ] [footnote : "she, one evening, asked me abruptly if i did not remember the scurrilous lines in which she had been depicted by gifford in his 'baviad and moeviad.' and, not waiting for my answer, for i was indeed too much embarrassed to give one quickly, she recited the verses in question, and added, 'how do you think "thrale's grey widow" revenged herself? i contrived to get myself invited to meet him at supper at a friend's house, (i think she said in pall mall), soon after the publication of his poem, sate opposite to him, saw that he was "perplexed in the extreme;" and smiling, proposed a glass of wine as a libation to our future good fellowship. gifford was sufficiently a man of the world to understand me, and nothing could be more courteous and entertaining than he was while we remained together.'"--_piozziana_.] this condemnatory verse is every way unjust. the nothings, or somethings, which form the staple of the book, are not laboured; and they are presented without the semblance of pomp or pretension. the preface commences thus: "i was made to observe at rome some vestiges of an ancient custom very proper in those days. it was the parading of the street by a set of people called preciæ, who went some minutes before the flamen dialis, to bid the inhabitants leave work or play, and attend wholly to the procession; but if ill-omens prevented the pageants from passing, or if the occasion of the show was scarce deemed worthy its celebration, these precise stood a chance of being ill-treated by the spectators. a prefatory introduction to a work like this can hope little better usage from the public than they had. it proclaims the approach of what has often passed by before; adorned most certainly with greater splendour, perhaps conducted with greater regularity and skill. yet will i not despair of giving at least a momentary amusement to my countrymen in general; while their entertainment shall serve as a vehicle for conveying expressions of particular kindness to those foreign individuals, whose tenderness softened the sorrows of absence, and who eagerly endeavoured by unmerited attentions to supply the loss of their company, on whom nature and habit had given me stronger claims." the preface concludes with the happy remark that--"the labours of the press resemble those of the toilette: both should be attended to and finished with care; but once completed, should take up no more of our attention, unless we are disposed at evening to destroy all effect of our morning's study." it would be difficult to name a book of travels in which anecdotes, observations, and reflections are more agreeably mingled, or one from which a clearer bird's-eye view of the external state of countries visited in rapid succession may be caught. i can only spare room for a few short extracts: "the contradictions one meets with every moment at paris likewise strike even a cursory observer,--a countess in a morning, her hair dressed, with diamonds too perhaps, a dirty black handkerchief about her neck, and a flat silver ring on her finger, like our ale-wives; a _femme publique_, dressed avowedly for the purposes of alluring the men, with a not very small crucifix hanging at her bosom;--and the virgin mary's sign at an ale-house door, with these words, "'je suis la mère de mon dieu, et la gardienne de ce lieu.'" "i have stolen a day to visit my old acquaintance the english austin nuns at the foffèe, and found the whole community alive and cheerful; they are many of them agreeable women, and having seen dr. johnson with me when i was last abroad, inquired much for him: mrs, fermor, the prioress, niece to belinda in the rape of the lock, taking occasion to tell me, comically enough, 'that she believed there was but little comfort to be found in a house that harboured _poets_; for that she remembered mr. pope's praise made her aunt very troublesome and conceited, while his numberless caprices would have employed ten servants to wait on him; and he gave one,' (said she) 'no amends by his talk neither, for he only sate dozing all day, when the sweet wine was out, and made his verses chiefly in the night; during which season he kept himself awake by drinking coffee, which it was one of the maids' business to make for him, and they took it by turns.'" at milan she institutes a delicate inquiry: "the women are not behind-hand in openness of confidence and comical sincerity. we have all heard much of italian cicisbeism; i had a mind to know how matters really stood; and took the nearest way to information by asking a mighty beautiful and apparently artless young creature, _not noble_, how that affair was managed, for there is no harm done _i am sure_, said i: 'why no,' replied she, 'no great _harm_ to be sure: except wearisome attentions from a man one cares little about; for my own part,' continued she, 'i detest the custom, as i happen to love my husband excessively, and desire nobody's company in the world but his. we are not _people of fashion_ though you know, nor at all rich; so how should we set fashions for our betters? they would only say, see how jealous he is! if _mr. such-a-one_ sat much with me at home, or went with me to the corso; and i _must_ go with some gentleman you know: and the men are such ungenerous creatures, and have such ways with them: i want money often, and this _cavaliere servente_ pays the bills, and so the connection draws closer--_that's all_.' and your husband! said i--'oh, why he likes to see me well dressed; he is very good-natured, and very charming; i love him to my heart.' and your confessor! cried i.--'oh! why he is _used to it_'--in the milanese dialect--_è assuefaà."_ "an english lady asked of an italian what were the actual and official duties of the strange thing, some women set a value on, which hovers oft about some married beauties, called 'cavalier servente,' a pygmalion whose statues warm, i fear! too true 't is beneath his art. the dame, press'd to disclose them, said, lady, i beseech you to _suppose them_."[ ] [footnote : "don juan," canto ix. see also "beppo," verses , : "but heaven preserve old england from such courses! or what becomes of damage and divorces?"] at venice, the tone was somewhat different from what would be employed now by the finest lady on the grand canal: "this firmly-fixed idea of subordination (which i once heard a venetian say, he believed must exist in heaven from one angel to another), accounts immediately for a little conversation which i am now going to relate. "here were two men taken up last week, one for murdering his fellow-servant in cold blood, while the undefended creature had the lemonade tray in his hand going in to serve company; the other for breaking the new lamps lately set up with intention to light this town in the manner of the streets at paris. 'i hope,' said i, 'that they will hang the murderer.' 'i rather hope,' replied a very sensible lady who sate near me, 'that they will hang the person who broke the lamps: for,' added she, 'the first committed his crime only out of revenge, poor fellow!! because the other had got his mistress from him by treachery; but this creature has had the impudence to break our fine new lamps, all for the sake of spiting _the arch-duke!!_' the arch-duke meantime hangs nobody at all; but sets his prisoners to work upon the roads, public buildings, &c., where they labour in their chains; and where, strange to tell! they often insult passengers who refuse them alms when asked as they go by; and, stranger still, they are not punished for it when they do." ... the lover sacrificing his reputation, his liberty, or his life, to save the fair fame of his mistress, is not an unusual event in fiction, whatever it may be in real life. balzac, charles de bernard, and m. de jarnac have each made a self-sacrifice of this kind the basis of a romance. but neither of them has hit upon a better plot than might be formed out of the following venetian story: "some years ago then, perhaps a hundred, one of the many spies who ply this town by night, ran to the state inquisitor, with information that such a nobleman (naming him) had connections with the french ambassador, and went privately to his house every night at a certain hour. the _messergrando_, as they call him, could not believe, nor would proceed, without better and stronger proof, against a man for whom he had an intimate personal friendship, and on whose virtue he counted with very particular reliance. another spy was therefore set, and brought back the same intelligence, adding the description of his disguise: on which the worthy magistrate put on his mask and bauta, and went out himself; when his eyes confirming the report of his informants, and the reflection on his duty stifling all remorse, he sent publicly for _foscarini_ in the morning, whom the populace attended all weeping to his door. "nothing but resolute denial of the crime alleged could however be forced from the firm-minded citizen, who, sensible of the discovery, prepared for that punishment he knew to be inevitable, and submitted to the fate his friend was obliged to inflict: no less than a dungeon for life, that dungeon so horrible that i have heard mr. howard was not permitted to see it. "the people lamented, but their lamentations were vain. the magistrate who condemned him never recovered the shock: but foscarini was heard of no more, till an old lady died forty years after in paris, whose last confession declared she was visited with amorous intentions by a nobleman of venice whose name she never knew, while she resided there as companion to the ambassadress. so was foscarini lost! so died he a martyr to love, and tenderness for female reputation!" the mendicanti was a venetian institution which deserves to be commemorated for its singularity: "apropos to singing;--we were this evening carried to a well-known conservatory called the mendicanti, who performed an oratorio in the church with great, and i dare say deserved applause. it was difficult for me to persuade myself that all the performers were women, till, watching carefully, our eyes convinced us, as they were but slightly grated. the sight of girls, however, handling the double bass, and blowing into the bassoon, did not much please _me_; and the deep-toned voice of her who sung the part of saul seemed an odd unnatural thing enough. "well! these pretty sirens were delighted to seize upon us, and pressed our visit to their parlour with a sweetness that i know not who would have resisted. we had no such intent; and amply did their performance repay my curiosity for visiting venetian beauties, so justly celebrated for their seducing manners and soft address. they accompanied their voices with the forte-piano, and sung a thousand buffo songs, with all that gay voluptuousness for which their country is renowned. "the school, however, is running to ruin apace; and perhaps the conduct of the married women here may contribute to make such _conservatorios_ useless and neglected. when the duchess of montespan asked the famous louison d'arquien, by way of insult, as she pressed too near her, '_comment alloit le metier_?' '_depuis que les dames s'en mèlent_,' (replied the courtesan with no improper spirit,) '_il ne vaut plus rien_.'" describing florence, she says:-- "sir horace mann is sick and old; but there are conversations at his house of a saturday evening, and sometimes a dinner, to which we have been almost always asked." so much for walpole's assertion that "she had broken with his horace, because he could not invite her husband with the italian nobility." she held her own, if she did not take the lead, in whatever society she happened to be thrown, and no one could have objected to piozzi without breaking with her. in point of fact, no one did object to him. one of her notes on naples is: "well, well! if the neapolitans do bury christians like dogs, they make some singular compensations we will confess, by nursing dogs like christians. a very veracious man informed me yester morning, that his poor wife was half broken-hearted at hearing such a countess's dog was run over; 'for,' said he, 'having suckled the pretty creature herself, she loved it like one of her children.' i bid him repeat the circumstance, that no mistake might be made: he did so; but seeing me look shocked, or ashamed, or something he did not like,--'why, madam,' said the fellow, 'it is a common thing enough for ordinary men's wives to suckle the lap-dogs of ladies of quality:' adding, that they were paid for their milk, and he saw no harm in gratifying one's _superiors_. as i was disposed to see nothing _but_ harm in disputing with such a competitor, our conference finished soon; but the fact is certain." on the margin she has written: "mrs. greathead could scarcely be made to credit so hideous a fact, till i showed her the portrait (at a broker's shop) of a woman _suckling a cat_." cornelia knight says: "mr. and mrs. piozzi passed the winter at naples and gave little concerts. he played with great taste on the pianoforte, and used to carry about a miniature one in his carriage." whilst discussing the propriety of complying with the customs of the country, she relates: "poor dr. goldsmith said once--'i would advise every young fellow setting out in life _to love gravy_:'--and added, that he had formerly seen a glutton's eldest nephew disinherited, because his uncle never could persuade him to say he liked gravy." mr. forster thinks that the concluding anecdote conveys a false impression of one "who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll." "mrs. piozzi, in her travels, quite solemnly sets forth that poor dr. goldsmith said once, 'i would advise every young fellow setting forth in life to love gravy,' alleging for it the serious reason that 'he had formerly seen a glutton's eldest nephew disinherited because his uncle never could persuade him to say he liked gravy.' imagine the dullness that would convert a jocose saying of this kind into an unconscious utterance of grave absurdity."[ ] in his index may be read: "mrs. piozzi's absurd instance of goldsmith's absurdity." mrs. piozzi does not quote the saying as an instance of absurdity; nor set it forth solemnly. she repeats it, as an illustration of her argument, in the same semi-serious spirit in which it was originally hazarded. sydney smith took a different view of this grave gravy question. on a young lady's declining gravy, he exclaimed: "i have been looking all my life for a person who, on principle, rejected gravy: let us vow eternal friendship." [footnote : life of goldsmith, vol. ii. p. . mr. forster allows her the credit of discovering the lurking irony in goldsmith's verses on cumberland, vol. ii. p. .] the "british synonymy" appeared in . it was thus assailed by gifford: "though 'no one better knows his own house' than i the vanity of this woman; yet the idea of her undertaking such a work had never entered my head; and i was thunderstruck when i first saw it announced. to execute it with any tolerable degree of success, required a rare combination of talents, among the least of which may be numbered neatness of style, acuteness of perception, and a more than common accuracy of discrimination; and mrs. piozzi brought to the task, a jargon long since become proverbial for its vulgarity, an utter incapability of defining a single term in the language, and just as much latin from a child's syntax, as sufficed to expose the ignorance she so anxiously labours to conceal. 'if such a one be fit to write on synonimes, speak.' pignotti himself laughs in his sleeve; and his countrymen, long since undeceived, prize the lady's talents at their true worth, "et centum tales[ ] curto centusse licentur." [footnote : quere thrales?--_printer's devil_."] other critics have been more lenient or more just. enough philosophical knowledge and acuteness were discovered in the work to originate a rumour that she had retained some of the great lexicographer's manuscripts, or derived a posthumous advantage, in some shape, from her former intimacy with him. in "thraliana," denbigh, nd january, , she writes: "my 'synonimes' have been reviewed at last. the critics are all civil for aught i see, and nearly just, except when they say that johnson left some fragments of a work upon synonymy: of which god knows i never heard till now one syllable; never had he and i, in all the time we lived together, any conversation upon the subject." even walpole admits that it has some marked and peculiar merits, although its value consists rather in the illustrative matter, than in the definitions and etymologies. thus, in distinguishing between _lavish_, _profuse_ and _prodigal_, she relates: "two gentlemen were walking leisurely up the hay-market some time in the year , lamenting the fate of the famous cuzzona, an actress who some time before had been in high vogue, but was then as they heard in a very pitiable situation. 'let us go and visit her,' said one of them, 'she lives but over the way.' the other consented; and calling at the door, they were shown up stairs, but found the faded beauty dull and spiritless, unable or unwilling to converse on any subject. 'how's this?' cried one of her consolers, 'are you ill? or is it but low spirits chains your tongue so?'--'neither,' replied she: ''tis hunger i suppose. i ate nothing yesterday, and now 'tis past six o'clock, and not one penny have i in the world to buy me any food.'--'come with us instantly to a tavern; we will treat you with the best roast fowls and port wine that london can produce.'--'but i will have neither my dinner nor my place of eating it prescribed to _me_,' answered cuzzona, in a sharper tone, 'else i need never have wanted.' 'forgive me,' cries the friend; 'do your own way; but eat in the name of god, and restore fainting nature.'--she thanked him then; and, calling to her a friendly wretch who inhabited the same theatre of misery, gave _him_ the guinea the visitor accompanied his last words with; 'and run with this money,' said she, 'to such a wine-merchant,' (naming him); 'he is the only one keeps good tokay by him. 'tis a guinea a bottle, mind you,' to the boy; 'and bid the gentleman you buy it of give you a loaf into the bargain,--he won't refuse.' in half an hour or less the lad returned with the tokay. 'but where,' cries cuzzona, 'is the loaf i spoke for?' 'the merchant would give me no loaf,' replies her messenger; 'he drove me from the door, and asked if i took him for a baker.' 'blockhead!' exclaims she; 'why i must have bread to my wine, you know, and i have not a penny to purchase any. go beg me a loaf directly.' the fellow returns once more with one in his hand and a halfpenny, telling 'em the gentleman threw him three, and laughed at his impudence. she gave her mercury the money, broke the bread into a wash-hand basin which stood near, poured the tokay over it, and devoured the whole with eagerness. this was indeed a heroine in profusion. some active well-wishers procured her a benefit after this; she gained about _l_., 'tis said, and laid out two hundred of the money instantly in a _shell-cap_. they wore such things then." when savage got a guinea, he commonly spent it in a tavern at a sitting; and referring to the memorable morning when the "vicar of wakefield" was produced, johnson says: "i sent him (goldsmith) a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. i accordingly went as soon as i was dressed, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent. i perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of madeira and a glass before him." mrs. piozzi continues: "but doctor johnson had always some story at hand to check extravagant and wanton wastefulness. his improviso verses made on a young heir's coming of age are highly capable of restraining such folly, if it is to be restrained: they never yet were printed, i believe. "'long expected one-and-twenty, lingering year, at length is flown; pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, great sir john, are now your own. loosen'd from the minor's tether, free to mortgage or to sell, wild as wind, and light as feather, bid the sons of thrift farewell. call the betseys, kates, and jennies, all the names that banish care; lavish of your grandsire's guineas, show the spirit of an heir. all that prey on vice or folly joy to see their quarry fly; there the gamester light and jolly, there the lender grave and sly. wealth, my lad, was made to wander, let it wander as it will; call the jockey, call the pander, bid them come and take their fill. when the bonny blade carouses, pockets full, and spirits high-- what are acres? what are houses? only dirt or wet or dry. should the guardian friend or mother tell the woes of wilful waste; scorn their counsel, scorn their pother-- you can hang or drown at last.'" these verses were addressed to thrale's nephew, sir john lade, in august, . they bear a strong resemblance to some of burns' in his "beggar's sonata," written in :-- "what is title, what is treasure, what is reputation's care; if we lead a life of pleasure, can it matter how or where?" boswell's "life of johnson" was published in may, . it is thus mentioned in "thraliana":-- "_may_, .--mr. boswell's book is coming out, and the wits expect me to tremble: what will the fellow say? ... that has not been said already." no date, but previous to th may, .--"i have been now laughing and crying by turns, for two days, over boswell's book. that poor man should have a _bon bouillon_ and be put to bed ... he is quite light-headed, yet madmen, drunkards, and fools tell truth, they say ... and if johnson was to me the back friend he has represented ... let it cure me of ever making friendship more with any human being." "_ th may_, .--the death of my son, so suddenly, so horribly produced before my eyes now suffering from the tears then shed ... so shockingly brought forward in boswell's two guinea book, made me very ill this week, very ill indeed[ ]; it would make the modern friends all buy the work i fancy, did they but know how sick the _ancient_ friends had it in their power to make me, but i had more wit than tell any of 'em. and what is the folly among all these fellows of wishing we may know one another in the next world.... comical enough! when we have only to expect deserved reproaches for breach of confidence and cruel usage. sure, sure i hope, rancour and resentment will at least be put off in the last moments: ... sure, surely, we shall meet no more, except on the great day when each is to answer to other and before other.... after _that_ i hope to keep better company than any of them." [footnote : the death of her son is not unkindly mentioned by boswell. see p. , roy. oct. edit. but the imputations on her veracity rest exclusively on his prejudiced testimony.] in , mrs. piozzi published "retrospection; or a review of the most striking and important events, characters, situations, and their consequences, which the last eighteen hundred years have presented to the view of mankind." it is in two volumes quarto, containing rather more than pages. a fitting motto for it would have been _de omnibus rebus et quibusdam aliis._ the subject, or range of subjects, was beyond her grasp; and the best that can be said of the book is that a good general impression of the stream of history, lighted up with some striking traits of manners and character, may be obtained from it. it would have required the united powers and acquirements of raleigh, burke, gibbon, and voltaire to fill so vast a canvass with appropriate groups and figures; and she is more open to blame for the ambitious conception of the work than for her comparative failure in the execution. in she writes to dr. gray: "the truth is, my plans stretch too far for these times, or for my own age; but the wish, though scarce hope, of my heart, is to finish the work i am engaged in, get you to look it over for me, and print in march ." she published it in january , but it was not looked over by her learned correspondent. some slight misgiving is betrayed in the preface: "if i should have made improper choice of facts, and if i should be found at length most to resemble maister fabyan of old, who writing the life of henry v. lays heaviest stress on a new weathercock set-up on st. paul's steeple during that eventful reign, my book must share the fate of his, and be like that forgotten: reminding before its death perhaps a friend or two of a poor man (macbean) living in later times, that doctor johnson used to tell us of; who being advised to take subscriptions for a new geographical dictionary, hastened to bolt court and begged advice. there having listened carefully for half-an-hour, 'ah, but dear sir,' exclaimed the admiring parasite, 'if i am to make all this eloquent ado about athens and rome, where shall we find place, do you think, for richmond, or aix la chapelle?'" writing from bath, december th, , she says: "the 'gentleman's magazine' for july contained my answer to such critics as confined themselves to faults i could have helped committing--had they been faults. those who merely told disagreeable truths concerning my person, or dress, or age, or such stuff, expected, of course, no reply. there are innumerable press errors in the book, from my being obliged to print on new year's day--during an insurrection of the printers. these the 'critical review' laid hold of with an acuteness sharpened by malignity." moore, who was staying at bowood, sets down in his diary for april, : "lord l. in the evening, quoted a ridiculous passage from the preface to mrs. piozzi's 'retrospections,' in which, anticipating the ultimate perfection of the human race, she says she does not despair of the time arriving when 'vice will take refuge in the arms of impossibility.' mentioned also an ode of hers to posterity, beginning, 'posterity, gregarious dame,' the only meaning of which must be, a lady _chez qui_ numbers assemble--a lady at _home_."[ ] [footnote : memoirs, &c., vol. iv. p. .] there is no such passage in the preface to "retrospection," and the ode is her "ode to society," who is not improperly addressed as "gregarious." "i repeated," adds moore, "what jekyll told the other day of bearcroft saying to mrs. piozzi, when thrale, after she had repeatedly called him mr. beercraft: 'beercraft is not my name, madam; it may be your trade, but it is not my name.'" it may always be questioned whether this offensive description of repartee was really uttered at the time. but bearcroft was capable of it. he began his cross-examination of mr. vansittart by--"with your leave, sir, i will call you mr. van for shortness." "as you please, sir, and i will call you mr. bear." towards the end of , mrs. piozzi left streatham for her seat in north wales, where ( or ) she was visited by a young nobleman, now an eminent statesman, distinguished by his love of literature and the fine arts, who has been good enough to recall and write down his impressions of her for me: "i did certainly know madame piozzi, but had no habits of acquaintance with her, and she never lived in london to my knowledge. when in my youth i made a tour in wales--times when all inns were bad, and all houses hospitable--i put up for a day at her house, i think in denbighshire, the proper name of which was bryn, and to which, on the occasion of her marriage i was told, she had recently added the name of bella. i remember her taking me into her bed-room to show me the floor covered with folios, quartos, and octavos, for consultation, and indicating the labour she had gone through in compiling an immense volume she was then publishing, called 'retrospection.' she was certainly what was called, and is still called, blue, and that of a deep tint, but good humoured and lively, though affected; her husband, a quiet civil man, with his head full of nothing but music. "i afterwards called on her at bath, where she chiefly resided. i remember it was at the time madame de staël's 'delphine,' and 'corinne,' came out[ ], and that we agreed in preferring 'delphine,' which nobody reads now, to 'corinne,' which most people read then, and a few do still. she rather avoided talking of johnson. these are trifles, not worth recording, but i have put them down that you might not think me neglectful of your wishes; but now _j'ai vuidé mon sac_." [footnote : "delphine" appeared in ; "corinne," in .] her mode of passing her time when she had ceased writing books, with the topics which interested her, will be best learned from her letters. her vivacity never left her, and the elasticity of her spirits bore up against every kind of depression. a lady who met her on her way to wynnstay in january, , describes her as "skipping about like a kid, quite a figure of fun, in a tiger skin shawl, lined with scarlet, and _only_ five colours upon her head-dress--on the top of a flaxen wig a bandeau of blue velvet, a bit of tiger ribbon, a white beaver hat and plume of black feathers--as gay as a lark." in a letter, dated jan. , to a welsh neighbour, mrs. piozzi says: "mr. piozzi has lost considerably in purse, by the cruel inroads of the french in italy, and of all his family driven from their quiet homes, has at length with difficulty saved one little boy who is now just turned of five years old. we have got him here (bath) since i wrote last, and his uncle will take him to school next week; for as our john has nothing but his talents and education to depend upon, he must be a scholar, and we will try hard to make him a very good one. "my poor little boy from lombardy said as i walked him across our market, 'these are sheeps' heads, are they not, aunt? i saw a basket of men's heads at brescia.' "as he was by a lucky chance baptized, in compliment to me, john salusbury, five years ago, when happier days smiled on his family, he will be known in england by no other, and it will be forgotten he is a foreigner. a lucky circumstance for one who is intended to work his way among our islanders by talent, diligence, and education." she thus mentions this event in "thraliana," january th, : "italy is ruined and england threatened. i have sent for one little boy from among my husband's nephews. he was christened john salusbury: he shall be naturalised, and then we will see whether he will be more grateful and natural and comfortable than miss thrales have been to the mother they have at length driven to desperation." she could hardly have denied her husband the satisfaction of rescuing a single member of his family from the wreck; and they were bound to provide handsomely for the child of their adoption. whether she carried the sentiment too far in giving him the entire estate (not a large one) is a very different question; on which she enters fearlessly in one of the fragments of the autobiography. in a marginal note on one of the printed letters in which johnson writes: "mrs. davenant says you regain your health,"--she remarks: "mrs. davenant neither knew nor cared, as she wanted her brother harry cotton to marry lady keith, and i offered my estate with her. miss thrale said she wished to have nothing to do either with my family or my fortune. they were all cruel and all insulting." her fits of irritation and despondency never lasted long. her mode of bringing up her adopted nephew was more in accordance with her ultimate liberality, than with her early intentions or professions of teaching him to "work his way among our islanders." instead of suffering him to travel to and from the university by coach, she insisted on his travelling post; and she is said to have remarked to the mother of a welsh baronet, who was similarly anxious for the comfort and dignity of her heir, "other people's children are baked in coarse common pie dishes, ours in patty-pans." she was misreported, or afterwards improved upon the thought; for, in june , she writes to dr. gray: "he is a boy of excellent principle. education at a private school has an effect like baking loaves in a tin. the bread is more insipid, but it comes out _clean_; and mr. gray laughed, when at breakfast this morning, our undercrusts suggested the comparison." in the conway notes, she says: "had we vexations enough? we had certainly many pleasures. the house in wales was beautiful, and the boy was beautiful too. mr. piozzi said i had spoiled my own children and was spoiling his. my reply was, that i loved spoiling people, and hated any one i could not spoil. am i not now trying to spoil dear mr. conway?" when she talks of spoiling, she must not be understood literally. in she writes from bath to dr. gray: "sir john and lady salusbury staid with me six or seven weeks, and made themselves most beloved among us. they are very good young creatures.... my children read your _key_ to each other on sunday noons: the _connection_ on sunday nights. you remember me hoping and proposing to make dear salusbury a gentleman, a christian, and a scholar; and when one has succeeded in the first two wishes, there is no need to fret if the third does fail a _little_. such is my situation concerning my _adopted_, as you are accustomed to call him." before she died she had the satisfaction of seeing him sheriff of his county; and on carrying up an address, he was knighted and became sir john salusbury piozzi salusbury. miss williams wynn has preserved a somewhat apocryphal anecdote of his disinterestedness: "when i read her (mrs. p.'s) lamentations over her poverty, i could not help believing that sir j. salusbury had proved ungrateful to his benefactress. for the honour of human nature i rejoice to find this is not the case. when he made known to his aunt his wish to marry, she promised to make over to him the property of brynbella. even before the marriage was concluded she had distressed herself by her lavish expenditure at streatham. i saw by the letters that gillow's bill amounted to near , _l_., and mr. (the late sir john) williams tells me she had continually very large parties from london. sir john salusbury then came to her, offered to relinquish all her promised gifts and the dearest wish of his heart, saying he should be most grateful to her if she would only give him a commission in the army, and let him seek his fortune. at the same time he added that he made this offer because all was still in his power, but that from the moment he married, she must be aware that it would be no longer so, that he should not feel himself justified in bringing a wife into distress of circumstances, nor in entailing poverty on children unborn.[ ] she refused; he married; and she went on in her course of extravagance. she had left herself a life income only, and large as it was, no tradesman would wait a reasonable time for payment; she was nearly eighty; and they knew that at her death nothing would be left to pay her debts, and so they seized the goods." [footnote : if the estate was settled in the usual manner, he would have only a life estate; and i believe it was so settled.] when fielding, the novelist, rather boastingly avowed that he never knew, and believed he never should know, the difference between a shilling and sixpence, he was told: "yes, the time will come when you will know it--when you have only eighteen pence left." if the author of "tom jones" could not be taught the value of money, we must not be too hard on mrs. piozzi for not learning it, after lesson upon lesson in the hard school of "impecuniosity." whilst piozzi lived, her affairs were faithfully and carefully administered. although they built brynbella, spent a good deal of money on streatham, and lived handsomely, they never wanted money. he had a moderate fortune, the produce of his professional labours, and left it, neither impaired nor materially increased, to his family. with peculiar reference probably to her habits of profuse expenditure, he used to say that "white monies were good for ladies, yellow for gentlemen." he took the guineas under his especial charge, leaving only the silver to her. this was a matter of notoriety in the neighbourhood, and the tenants, to please her or humour the joke, sometimes brought bags of shillings and sixpences in part payment of their rents. in the conway notes she says: "our head-quarters were in wales, where dear piozzi repaired my church, built a new vault for my old ancestors, chose the place in it where he and i are to repose together.... he lived some twenty-five years with me, however, but so punished with gout that we found bath the best wintering-place for many, many seasons.--mrs. siddons' last appearance there he witnessed, when she played calista to dimond's lothario, in which he looked _so_ like garrick, it shocked us _all three_, i believe; for garrick adored mr. piozzi, and siddons hated the little great man to her heart. poor dimond! he was a well-bred, pleasing, worthy creature, and did the honours of his own house and table with peculiar grace indeed. no likeness in private life or manner,--none at all; no wit, no fun, no frolic humour had mr. dimond:--no grace, no dignity, no real unaffected elegance of mien or behaviour had his predecessor, david,--whose partiality to my fastidious husband was for that reason never returned. merriment, difficult for _him_ to comprehend, made no amends for the want of that which no one understood better,--so he hated all the wits but murphy." there is hardly a family of note or standing within visiting distance of their place, that has not some tradition or reminiscence to relate concerning them; and all agree in describing him as a worthy good sort of man, obliging, inoffensive, kind to the poor, principally remarkable for his devotion to music, and utterly unable to his dying day to familiarise himself with the english language or manners. it is told of him that being required to pay a turnpike toll near the house of a country neighbour whom he was on his way to visit, he took it for granted that the toll went into his neighbour's pocket, and proposed setting up a gate near brynbella with the view of levying toll in his turn. in september, , she wrote from brynbella to dr. gray: "dear mr. piozzi, who takes men out of misery so far as his power extends in this neighbourhood, feels flattered and encouraged by your very kind approbation. he has been getting rugs for the cottagers' beds to keep them warm this winter, while we are away, and they all take me into their sleeping rooms when i visit them _now_, to show how comfortably they live. as for the old hut you so justly abhorred, and so kindly noticed--it is knocked down and its coarse name too, potlicko: we call it cottage-o'-the-park. some recurrence to the original derivation in soup season will not, however, be much amiss i suppose." "amongst the company," says moore, "was mrs. john kemble. she mentioned an anecdote of piozzi, who upon calling upon some old lady of quality, was told by the servant, she was 'indifferent.' 'is she indeed?' answered piozzi, huffishly, 'then pray tell her i can be as indifferent as she;' and walked away."[ ] [footnote : moore's memoirs, vol. iv. p. .] till he was disabled by the gout, his principal occupation was his violin, and it was her delight to listen to him. she more than once observed to the vicar, "such music is quite heavenly." "i am in despair," cried out the village fiddler, "i may now stick my fiddle in my thatched roof, for a greater performer is come to reside in the parish." the existing superstition of the country is that his spirit, playing on his favourite instrument, still haunts one wing of brynbella. if he designed the building, his architectural taste does not merit the praises she lavishes on it. the exterior is not prepossessing; but there is a look of comfort about the house; the interior is well arranged: the situation, which commands a fine and extensive view of the upper part of the valley of the clywd, is admirably chosen; the garden and grounds are well laid out; and the walks through the woods on either side, especially one called the lovers' walk, are remarkably picturesque. altogether, brynbella may be fairly held to merit the appellation of a "pretty villa." the name implies a compliment to piozzi's country as well as to his taste; for she meant it to typify the union between wales and italy in his and her own proper persons. she says in the conway notes: "mr. piozzi built the house for me, he said; my own old chateau, bachygraig by name, tho' very curious, was wholly uninhabitable; and we called the italian villa he set up as mine in the vale of cluid, brynbella, or the beautiful brow, making the name half welsh and half italian, as _we_ were." dr. burney, in a letter to his daughter, thus described the position and feelings of the couple towards each other in : "during my invalidity at bath i had an unexpected visit from your streatham friend, of whom i had lost sight for more than ten years. she still looks very well, but is graver, and candour itself; though she still says good things, and writes admirable notes and letters, i am told, to my granddaughters c. and m., of whom she is very fond. we shook hands very cordially, and avoided any allusion to our long separation and its cause. the _caro sposo_ still lives, but is such an object from the gout, that the account of his sufferings made me pity him sincerely; he wished, she told me, 'to see his old and worthy friend,' and _un beau matin_ i could not refuse compliance with his wish. she nurses him with great affection and tenderness, never goes out or has company when he is in pain." in the conway notes she says: "piozzi's fine hand upon the organ and pianoforte deserted him. gout, such as i never knew, fastened on his fingers, distorting them into every dreadful shape.... a little girl, shown to him as a musical wonder of five years old, said, 'pray, sir, why are your fingers wrapped up in black silk so?' 'my dear,' replied he, 'they are in mourning for my voice.' 'oh, me!' cries the child, '_is she dead?_' he sung an easy song, and the baby exclaimed, 'ah, sir! you are very naughty--you tell fibs!' poor dears! and both gone now!" "when life was gradually, but perceptibly, closing round him at bath, in , i asked him if he would wish to converse with a romish priest,--we had full opportunity there. 'by no means,' said he. 'call mr. leman of the crescent.' we did so,--poor bessy ran and fetched him. mr. piozzi received the blessed sacrament at his hands; but recovered sufficiently to go home and die in his own house." he died of gout at brynbella in march , and was buried in a vault constructed by her desire in dymerchion church. there is a portrait of him (period and painter unknown) still preserved amongst the family portraits at brynbella. it is that of a good-looking man of about forty, in a straight-cut brown coat with metal buttons, lace frill and ruffles, and some leaves of music in his hand. there are also two likenesses of mrs. piozzi: one a three-quarter length (kit-kat), taken apparently when she was about forty; the other a miniature of her at an advanced age. both confirm her description of herself as too strong-featured to be pretty. the hands in the three-quarter length are gloved. brynbella continued her headquarters till , when she gave it up to sir john salusbury. from that period she resided principally at bath and clifton, occasionally visiting streatham or making summer trips to the seaside. that she and her eldest daughter should ever be again (if they ever were) on a perfect footing of confidence and affection, was a moral impossibility. estrangements are commonly durable in proportion to the closeness of the tie that has been severed; and it is no more than natural that each party, yearning for a reconciliation and not knowing that the wish is reciprocated, should persevere in casting the blame of the prolonged coldness on the other. occasional sarcasms no more prove disregard or indifference, than swift's "only a woman's hair" implies contempt for the sex. miss thrale's marriage with lord keith in is thus mentioned in "thraliana": "the 'thraliana' is coming to an end; so are the thrales. the eldest is married now. admiral lord keith the man; a _good_ man for ought i hear: a _rich_ man for ought i am told: a _brave_ man we have always heard: and a _wise_ man i trow by his choice. the name no new one, and excellent for a charade, _e.g_. "a faery my first, who to fame makes pretence; my second a rock, dear britannia's defence; in my third when combined will too quickly be shown the faery and rock in our brave elphin-stone." her way of life after piozzi's death may be collected from the letters, with the exception of one strange episode towards the end. when nearly eighty, she took a fancy for an actor named conway, who came out on the london boards in , and had the honour of acting romeo and jaffier to the juliet and belvidera of miss o'neill (lady becher). he also acted with her in dean milman's fine play, "fazio." but it was his ill fate to reverse churchill's famous lines: "before such merits all objections fly, pritchard's genteel, and garrick's six feet high." conway was six feet high, and a very handsome man to boot; but his advantages were purely physical; not a spark of genius animated his fine features and commanding figure, and he was battling for a moderate share of provincial celebrity, when mrs. piozzi fell in with him at bath. it has been rumoured in flintshire that she wished to marry him, and offered sir john salusbury a large sum in ready money (which she never possessed) to give up brynbella (which he could not give up), that she might settle it on the new object of her affections. but none of the letters or documents that have fallen in my way afford even plausibility to the rumour, and some of the testamentary papers in which his name occurs, go far towards discrediting the belief that her attachment ever went beyond admiration and friendship expressed in exaggerated terms.[ ] [footnote : since the appearance of the first edition of this work, it has been stated on the authority of a distinguished man of letters that conway shewed the late charles mathews a letter from mrs. piozzi, offering marriage.--_new monthly magazine_ (edited by mr. harrison ainsworth) for april, .] conway threw himself overboard and was drowned in a voyage from new york to charleston in . his effects were sold at new york, and amongst them a copy of the folio edition of young's "night thoughts," in which he had made a note of its having been presented to him by his "dearly attached friend, the celebrated mrs. piozzi." in the preface to "love letters of mrs. piozzi, written when she was eighty, to william augustus conway," published in london in , it is stated that the originals, seven in number, were purchased by an american "lady," who permitted a "gentleman" to take copies and use them as he might think fit. what this "gentleman" thought fit, was to publish them with a catchpenny title and an alleged extract by way of motto to sanction it. the genuineness of the letters is doubtful, and the interpolation of three or four sentences would alter their entire tenor. but taken as they stand, their language is not warmer than an old woman of vivid fancy and sensibility might have deemed warranted by her age. "tell mr. johnson i love him exceedingly," is the mission given by the old countess of eglinton to boswell in . _l'age n'a point de sexe_; and no one thought the worse of madame du deffand for the impassioned tone in which she addressed horace walpole, whose dread of ridicule induced him to make a most ungrateful return to her fondness.[ ] years before the formation of this acquaintance, mrs. piozzi had acquired the difficult art of growing old; _je sais vieillir_: she dwells frequently but naturally on her age: she contemplates the approach of death with firmness and without self-deception: and her elasticity of spirit never for a moment suggests the image of an antiquated coquette. of the seven letters in question, the one cited as most compromising is the sixth, in which conway is exhorted to bear patiently a rebuff he had just received from some younger beauty: [footnote : "the old woman's fancy for mr. conway represents a relation of warm friendship that is of every-day occurrence between youth and age that is not crabbed."--_the examiner_, feb. , .] "'tis not a year and a quarter since, dear conway, accepting of my portrait sent to birmingham, said to the bringer, 'oh if _your lady_ but retains her friendship: oh if i can but keep _her_ patronage, i care not for the rest.' and now, when that friendship follows you through sickness and through sorrow; now that her patronage is daily rising in importance: upon a lock of hair given or refused by une petite traitresse, hangs all the happiness of my once high-spirited and high-blooded friend. let it not be so. exalt thy love: dejected heart--and rise superior to such narrow minds. do not however fancy she will ever be punished in the way you mention: no, no; she'll wither on the thorny stem dropping the faded and ungathered leaves:--a china rose, of no good scent or flavour--false in apparent sweetness, deceitful when depended on--unlike the flower produced in colder climates, which is sought for in old age, preserved _even after death_, a lasting and an elegant perfume,--a medicine, too, for those whose shattered nerves require _astringent remedies_. "and now, dear sir, let me request of you--to love yourself--and to reflect on the necessity of not dwelling on any _particular subject_ too long, or too intensely. it is really very dangerous to the health of body and soul. besides that our time here is but short; a mere preface to the great book of eternity: and 'tis scarce worthy of a reasonable being not to keep the end of human existence so far in view that we may tend to it--either directly or obliquely in every step. this is preaching--but remember how the sermon is written at three, four, and five o'clock by an octogenary pen--a heart (as mrs. lee says) twenty-six years old: and as h.l.p. feels it to be,--all your own. suffer your dear noble self to be in some measure benefited by the talents which are left _me_; your health to be restored by soothing consolations while _i remain here_, and am able to bestow them. all is not lost yet. you _have_ a friend, and that friend is piozzi." conway's "high blood" was as great a recommendation to mrs. piozzi as his good looks, and he vindicated his claim to noble descent by his conduct, which was disinterested and gentlemanlike throughout. moore sets down in his diary, april , : "breakfasted with the fitzgeralds. took me to call on mrs. piozzi; a wonderful old lady; faces of other times seemed to crowd over her as she sat,--the johnsons, reynoldses, &c. &c.: though turned eighty, she has all the quickness and intelligence of a gay young woman." nichol, the bookseller, had said that "johnson was the link that connected shakespeare with the rest of mankind." on hearing this, mrs. piozzi at eighty exclaimed, "oh, the dear fellow, i must give him a kiss for that idea." when nichol told the story, he added, "i never got it, and she went out of the world a kiss in my debt." one of the most characteristic feats or freaks of this extraordinary woman was the celebration of her eightieth birthday by a concert, ball, and supper, to between six and seven hundred people, at the kingston rooms, bath, on the th january, . at the conclusion of the supper, her health was proposed by admiral sir james sausmarez, and drunk with three times three. the dancing began at two, when she led off with her adopted son, sir john salusbury, dancing (according to the author of "piozziana," an eye-witness) "with astonishing elasticity, and with all the true air of dignity which might have been expected of one of the best bred females in society." when fears were expressed that she had done too much, she replied:--"no: this sort of thing is greatly in the mind; and i am almost tempted to say the same of growing old at all, especially as it regards those of the usual concomitants of age, viz., laziness, defective sight, and ill-temper." "so far from feeling fatigued or exhausted on the following day by her exertions," remarks sir james fellowes in a note on this event, "she amused us by her sallies of wit, and her jokes on 'tully's offices,' of which her guests had so eagerly availed themselves.". tully was the cook and confectioner, the bath gunter, who provided the supper. mrs. piozzi died in may, . her death is circumstantially communicated in a letter from mrs. pennington, the lady mentioned in miss seward's correspondence as the beautiful and agreeable sophia weston:-- "hot wells, may th, . "dear miss willoughby,--it is my painful task to communicate to you, who have so lately been the kind associate of dearest mrs. piozzi, the irreparable loss we have all sustained in that incomparable woman and beloved friend. "she closed her various life about nine o'clock on wednesday, after an illness of ten days, with as little suffering as could be imagined under these awful circumstances. her bed-side was surrounded by her weeping daughters: lady keith and mrs. hoare arrived in time to be fully recognised[ ]; miss thrale, who was absent from town, only just before she expired, but with the satisfaction of seeing her breathe her last in peace. "nothing could behave with more tenderness and propriety than these ladies, whose conduct, i am convinced, has been much misrepresented and calumniated by those who have only attended to _one_ side of the history: but may all that is past be now buried in oblivion! retrospection seldom improves our view of any subject. sir john salusbury was too distant, the close of her illness being so rapid, for us to entertain any expectation of his arriving in time to see the dear deceased. he only reached clifton late _last_ night. i have not yet seen him; my whole time has been devoted to the afflicted ladies." [footnote : on hearing of their arrival she is reported to have said, "now, i shall die in state."] mrs. pennington told a friend that mrs. piozzi's last words were: "i die in the trust and the fear of god." when she was attended by sir george gibbes, being unable to articulate, she traced a coffin in the air with her hands and lay calm. her will, dated the th march, , makes sir john salusbury piozzi salusbury heir to all her real and personal property with the exception of some small bequests, sir james fellowes and sir john salusbury being appointed executors. a memorandum signed by sir james fellowes runs thus:--"after i had read the will, lady keith and her two sisters present, said they had long been prepared for the contents and for such a disposition of the property, and they acknowledged the validity of the will." * * * * * in any endeavour to solve the difficult problem of mrs. piozzi's conduct and character, it should be kept in view that the highest testimony to her worth has been volunteered by those with whom she passed the last years of her life in the closest intimacy. she had become completely reconciled to madame d'arblay, with whom she was actively corresponding when she died, and her mixed qualities of head and heart are thus summed up in that lady's diary, may, : "i have lost now, just lost, my once most dear, intimate, and admired friend, mrs. thrale piozzi, who preserved her fine faculties, her imagination, her intelligence, her powers of allusion and citation, her extraordinary memory, and her almost unexampled vivacity, to the last of her existence. she was in her eighty-second year, and yet owed not her death to age nor to natural decay, but to the effects of a fall in a journey from penzance to clifton. on her eightieth birthday she gave a great ball, concert, and supper, in the public rooms at bath, to upwards of two hundred persons, and the ball she opened herself. she was, in truth, a most wonderful character for talents and eccentricity, for wit, genius, generosity, spirit, and powers of entertainment. "she had a great deal both of good and not good, in common with madame de staël holstein. they had the same sort of highly superior intellect, the same depth of learning, the same general acquaintance with science, the same ardent love of literature, the same thirst for universal knowledge, and the same buoyant animal spirits, such as neither sickness, sorrow, nor even terror, could subdue. their conversation was equally luminous, from the sources of their own fertile minds, and from their splendid acquisitions from the works and acquirements of others. both were zealous to serve, liberal to bestow, and graceful to oblige; and both were truly high-minded in prizing and praising whatever was admirable that came in their way. neither of them was delicate nor polished, though each was flattering and caressing; but both had a fund inexhaustible of good humour, and of sportive gaiety, that made their intercourse with those they wished to please attractive, instructive, and delightful; and though not either of them had the smallest real malevolence in their compositions, neither of them could ever withstand the pleasure of uttering a repartee, let it wound whom it might, even though each would serve the very person they goaded with all the means in their power. both were kind, charitable, and munificent, and therefore beloved; both were sarcastic, careless, and daring, and therefore feared. the morality of madame de staël was by far the most faulty, but so was the society to which she belonged; so were the general manners of those by whom she was encircled." there is one real point of similarity between madame de staël and mrs. piozzi, which has been omitted in the parallel. both were treated much in the same manner by the amiable, sensitive, and unsophisticated fanny burney. in feb. , she wrote to her father, then at paris, to announce her intimacy with a small "colony" of distinguished emigrants settled at richmond, the cynosure of which was the far-famed daughter of necker. he writes to caution her on the strength of a suspicious _liaison_ with m. de narbonne. she replies by declaring her belief that the charge is a gross calumny. "indeed, i think you could not spend a day with them and not see that their commerce is that of pure, but exalted and most elegant, friendship. i would, nevertheless, give the world to avoid being a guest under their roof, now that i have heard even the shadow of such a rumour." if mr. croker was right, she was then in her forty-second year; at all events, no tender, timid, delicate maiden, ready to start at a hint or semblance of impropriety; and she waved her scruples without hesitation when they stood in the way of her intercourse with m. d'arblay, whom she married in july , he being then employed in transcribing madame de staël's essay on the influence of the passions. as to the parallel, with all due deference to madame d'arblay's proved sagacity aided by her personal knowledge of her two gifted friends, it may be suggested that they present fewer points of resemblance than any two women of at all corresponding celebrity.[ ] the superiority in the highest qualities of mind will be awarded without hesitation to the french woman, although m. thiers terms her writings the perfection of mediocrity. she grappled successfully with some of the weightiest and subtlest questions of social and political science; in criticism she displayed powers which schlegel might have envied while he aided their fullest development in her "germany"; and her "corinne" ranks amongst the best of those works of fiction which excel in description, reflection, and sentiment, rather than in pathos, fancy, stirring incident, or artfully contrived plot. but her tone of mind was so essentially and notoriously masculine, that when she asked talleyrand whether he had read her "delphine," he answered, "non, madame, mais on m'a dit que-nous y sommes tous les deux déguisés en femmes."[ ] this was a material drawback on her agreeability: in a moment of excited consciousness, she exclaimed, that she would give all her fame for the power of fascinating; and there was no lack of bitterness in her celebrated repartee to the man who, seated between her and madame recamier, boasted of being between wit and beauty, "oui, et sans posséder ni l'un ni l'autre."[ ] the view from richmond park she called "calme et animée, ce qu'on doit être, et que je ne suis pas." [footnote : lady morgan and madame de genlis have been suggested as each presenting a better subject for a parallel.] [footnote : "to understand the point of this answer," says mr. mackintosh, "it must be known that an old countess is introduced in the novel full of cunning, finessing, and trick, who was intended to represent talleyrand, and delphine was intended for herself."--_life of sir james mackintosh_, vol. ii. p. .] [footnote : this _mot_ is given to talleyrand in lady holland's life of sydney smith. but it may be traced to one mentioned by hannah more in , as then current in paris. one of the _notables_ fresh from his province was teased by two _petits maîtres_ to tell them who he was. "eh bien donc, le voici: je suis ni sot ni fat, mais je suis entre les deux."--_memoirs of hannah more_, vol. ii. p. .] in london she was soon voted a bore by the wits and people of fashion. she thought of convincing whilst they thought of dining. sheridan and brummell delighted in mystifying her. byron complained that she was always talking of himself or herself[ ], and concludes his account of a dinner-party by the remark:--"but we got up too soon after the women; and mrs. corinne always lingers so long after dinner, that we wish her--in the drawing-room." in another place he says: "i saw curran presented to madame de staël at mackintosh's; it was the grand confluence between the rhone and the saône, and they were both so d--d ugly that i could not help wondering how the best intellects of france and england could have taken up respectively such residences." he afterwards qualifies this opinion: "her figure was not bad; her legs tolerable; her arms good: altogether i can conceive her having been a desirable woman, allowing a little imagination for her soul, and so forth. she would have made a great man." [footnote : johnson told boswell: "you have only two topics, yourself and myself, and i am heartily sick of both."] this is just what mrs. piozzi never would have made. her mind, despite her masculine acquirements, was thoroughly feminine: she had more tact than genius, more sensibility and quickness of perception than depth, comprehensiveness, or continuity of thought. but her very discursiveness prevented her from becoming wearisome: her varied knowledge supplied an inexhaustible store of topics and illustrations; her lively fancy placed them in attractive lights; and her mind has been well likened to a kaleidoscope which, whenever its glittering and heterogeneous contents are moved or shaken, surprises by some new combination of colour or of form. she professed to write as she talked; but her conversation was doubtless better than her books: her main advantages being a well-stored memory, fertility of images, aptness of allusion, and _apropos_. her colloquial excellence and her agreeability are established by the unanimous testimony of her cotemporaries. her fame in this respect rests on the same basis as that of all great wits, all great actors, and many great orators. to question it for want of more tangible and durable proofs, would be as unreasonable as to question sydney smith's humour, hook's powers of improvisation, garrick's richard, or sheridan's begum speech. but _ex pede herculem_. marked indications of her quality will be found in her letters and her books. "both," remarks an acute and by no means partial critic[ ], "are full of happy touches, and here and there will be found in them those deep and piercing thoughts which come intuitively to people of genius." [footnote : the athenæum. jan. th, .] surely these are happy touches: "i hate a general topic as a pretty woman hates a general mourning when black does not become her complexion." "life is a schoolroom, not a playground." in allusion to the rage for scientific experiment in : "never was poor nature so put to the rack, and never, of course, was she made to tell so many lies." "science (i.e. learning), which acted as a sceptre in the hand of johnson, and was used as a club by dr. parr, became a lady's fan, when played with by george henry glasse." "hope is drawn with an anchor always, and common sense is never strong enough to draw it up." "the poppy which nature sows among the corn, to shew us that sleep is as necessary as bread." [ ] [footnote : or to shew us that the harvest diminishes with sloth, and that what we gain in sleep we lose in bread. but _qui dort, dine_.] "the best writers are not the best friends; and the last character is more to be valued than the first by cotemporaries: after fifty years, indeed, the others carry away all the applause." this is the reason why posterity always takes part with the famous author or man of genius against those who witnessed his meanness or suffered from his selfishness; why fresh apologists will constantly be found for bacon's want of principle and johnson's want of manners. in the course of his famous definition or description of wit, barrow says: "sometimes it lieth in pat allusion to a known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying: sometimes it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense or the affinity of their sound." if this be so, she possessed it in abundance. in a letter, dated bath, th april, ,--about the time when talleyrand said of lady f.s.'s robe: "_elle commence trop tard et finit trop tôt_,"--she writes: "a genteel young clergyman, in our upper crescent, told his mamma about ten days ago, that he had lost his heart to pretty miss prideaux, and that he must absolutely marry her or die. _la chère mère_ of course replied gravely: 'my dear, you have not been acquainted with the lady above a fortnight: let me recommend you to see more of her.' 'more of her!' exclaimed the lad, 'why i have seen down to the fifth rib on each side already.' this story will serve to convince captain t. fellowes and yourself, that as you have always acknowledged the british belles to _exceed_ those of every other nation, you may now say with truth, that they _outstrip_ them." on the st july, : "the heat has certainly exhausted my faculties, and i have but just life enough left to laugh at the fourteen tailors who, united under a flag with '_liberty and independence_' on it, went to vote for some of these gay fellows, i forget which, but the motto is ill chosen, said i, they should have written up, '_measures not men_'" her verses are advantageously distinguished amongst those of her blue-stocking contemporaries by happy turns of thought and expression, natural playfulness, and an abundant flow of idiomatic language. but her facility was a fatal gift, as it has proved to most female aspirants to poetic fame, who rarely stoop to the labour of the file. although the first rule laid down by goldsmith's connoisseur[ ] is far from universally applicable to productions of the pencil or the pen, all fruitful writers would do well to act upon it, and what mrs. piozzi could do when she took pains is decisively proved by her "streatham portraits." [footnote : "upon my asking him how he had acquired the art of a conoscente so very suddenly, he assured me that nothing was more easy. the whole secret consisted in an adherence to two rules: the one always to observe that the picture might have been better if the painter had taken more pains; and the other to praise the works of pietro perugino."--_the vicar of wakefield_, ch. xx.] she was wanting in refinement, which very few of the eighteenth century wits and authors possessed according to more modern notions; and she abounded in vanity, which, if not necessarily a baneful or unamiable quality, is a fruitful source of folly and peculiarly calculated to provoke censure or ridicule. in her, fortunately, its effects were a good deal modified by the frankness of its avowal and display, by her habits of self-examination, by her impulsive generosity of character, and by her readiness to admit the claims and consult the feelings of others. to seek out and appreciate merit as she appreciated it, is a high merit in itself. her piety was genuine; and old-fashioned politicians, whose watchword is church and king, will be delighted with her politics. literary men, considering how many curious inquiries depend upon her accuracy, will be more anxious about her truthfulness, and i have had ample opportunities of testing it; having not only been led to compare her narratives with those of others, but to collate her own statements of the same transactions or circumstances at distant intervals or to different persons. it is difficult to keep up a large correspondence without frequent repetition. sir walter scott used to write precisely the same things to three or four fine-lady friends, and mrs. piozzi could no more be expected to find a fresh budget of news or gossip for each epistle than the author of "waverley." thus, in , she writes to a welsh baronet from bath: "we have had a fine dr. holland here.[ ] he has seen and written about the ionian islands; and means now to practise as a physician, exchanging the cyclades, say we wits and wags, for the sick ladies. we made quite a lion of the man. i was invited to every house he visited at for the last three days; so i got the _queue du lion_ despairing of _le coeur_." [footnote : sir henry holland, bart., who, with many other titles to distinction, is one of the most active and enterprising of modern travellers.] two other letters written about the same time contain the same piece of intelligence and the same joke. she was very fond of writing marginal notes; and after annotating one copy of a book, would take up another and do the same. i have never detected a substantial variation in her narratives, even in those which were more or less dictated by pique; and as she generally drew upon the "thraliana" for her materials, this, having been carefully and calmly compiled, affords an additional guarantee for her accuracy. her taste for reading never left her or abated to the last. in reference to a remark (in boswell) on the irksomeness of books to people of advanced age, she writes: "not to me at eighty years old: being grieved that year ( ) particularly, i was forced upon study to relieve my mind, and it had the due effect. i wrote this note in ." she sometimes gives anecdotes of authors. thus, in the letter just quoted, she says: "lord byron protests his wife was a fortune without money, a belle without beauty, and a blue-stocking without either wit or learning." but her literary information grew scanty as she grew old: "the literary world (she writes in ) is to me terra incognita, far more deserving of the name, now parry and ross are returned, than any part of the polar regions:" and her opinions of the rising authors are principally valuable as indications of the obstacles which budding reputations must overcome. "pindar's fine remark respecting the different effects of music on different characters, holds equally true of genius: so many as are not delighted by it are disturbed, perplexed, irritated. the beholder either recognises it as a projected form of his own being, that moves before him with a glory round its head, or recoils from it as a spectre."[ ] the octogenarian critic of the johnsonian school recoils from "frankenstein" as from an incarnation of the evil spirit: she does not know what to make of the "tales of my landlord"; and she inquires of an irish acquaintance whether she retained recollection enough of her own country to be entertained with "that strange caricature, castle rack rent." contemporary judgments such as these (not more extravagant than horace walpole's) are to the historian of literature what fossil remains are to the geologist. [footnote : coleridge, "aids to reflection."] although perhaps no biographical sketch was ever executed, as a labour of love, without an occasional attack of what lord macaulay calls the _lues boswelliana_ or fever of admiration, i hope it is unnecessary for me to say that i am not setting up mrs. piozzi as a model letter-writer, or an eminent author, or a pattern of the domestic virtues, or a fitting object of hero or heroine worship in any capacity. all i venture to maintain is, that her life and character, if only for the sake of the "associate forms," deserve to be vindicated against unjust reproach, and that she has written many things which are worth snatching from oblivion or preserving from decay. end of the first volume. london printed by spottiswoode and co. new-street square johnson, ll.d.*** this etext was transcribed from the cassell and company edition by les bowler. anecdotes of the late samuel johnson, ll.d. during the last _twenty years of his life_. by hesther lynch piozzi. cassell and company, limited _london_, _paris_, _new york & melbourne_ introduction mrs. piozzi, by her second marriage, was by her first marriage the mrs. thrale in whose house at streatham doctor johnson was, after the year of his first introduction, , in days of infirmity, an honoured and a cherished friend. the year of the beginning of the friendship was the year in which johnson, fifty-six years old, obtained his degree of ll.d. from dublin, and--though he never called himself doctor--was thenceforth called doctor by all his friends. before her marriage mrs. piozzi had been miss hesther lynch salusbury, a young lady of a good welsh family. she was born in the year , and she lived until the year . she celebrated her eightieth birthday on the th of january, , by a concert, ball, and supper to six or seven hundred people, and led off the dancing at the ball with an adopted son for partner. when johnson was first introduced to her, as mrs. thrale, she was a lively, plump little lady, twenty-five years old, short of stature, broad of build, with an animated face, touched, according to the fashion of life in her early years, with rouge, which she continued to use when she found that it had spoilt her complexion. her hands were rather coarse, but her handwriting was delicate. henry thrale, whom she married, was the head of the great brewery house now known as that of barclay and perkins. henry thrale's father had succeeded edmund halsey, who began life by running away from his father, a miller at st. albans. halsey was taken in as a clerk-of-all-work at the anchor brewhouse in southwark, became a house-clerk, able enough to please child, his master, and handsome enough to please his master's daughter. he married the daughter and succeeded to child's brewery, made much money, and had himself an only daughter, whom he married to a lord. henry thrale's father was a nephew of halseys, who had worked in the brewery for twenty years, when, after halsey's death, he gave security for thirty thousand pounds as the price of the business, to which a noble lord could not succeed. in eleven years he had paid the purchase-money, and was making a large fortune. to this business his son, who was johnson's friend, henry thrale, succeeded; and upon thrale's death it was bought for , pounds by a member of the quaker family of barclay, who took thrale's old manager, perkins, into partnership. johnson became, after , familiar in the house of the thrales at streatham. there was much company. mrs. thrale had a taste for literary guests and literary guests had, on their part, a taste for her good dinners. johnson was the lion-in-chief. there was dr. johnson's room always at his disposal; and a tidy wig kept for his special use, because his own was apt to be singed up the middle by close contact with the candle, which he put, being short-sighted, between his eyes and a book. mrs. thrale had skill in languages, read latin, french, italian, and spanish. she read literature, could quote aptly, and put knowledge as well as playful life into her conversation. johnson's regard for the thrales was very real, and it was heartily returned, though mrs. thrale had, like her friend, some weaknesses, in common with most people who feed lions and wish to pass for wits among the witty. about fourteen years after johnson's first acquaintance with the thrales--when johnson was seventy years old and mrs. thrale near forty--the little lady, who had also lost several children, was unhappy in the thought that she had ceased to be appreciated by her husband. her husband's temper became affected by the commercial troubles of , and mrs. thrale became jealous of the regard between him and sophy streatfield, a rich widow's daughter. under january, , she wrote in her "thraliana," "mr. thrale has fallen in love, really and seriously, with sophy streatfield; but there is no wonder in that; she is very pretty, very gentle, soft, and insinuating; hangs about him, dances round him, cries when she parts from him, squeezes his hand slily, and with her sweet eyes full of tears looks so fondly in his face--and all for love of me, as she pretends, that i can hardly sometimes help laughing in her face. a man must not be a _man_ but an _it_ to resist such artillery." mrs. thrale goes on to record conquests made by this irresistible sophy in other directions, showing the same temper of jealousy. thrale died on the th of april, . mrs. thrale had entered in her "thraliana" under july, , being then at brighton, "i have picked up piozzi here, the great italian singer. he is amazingly like my father. he shall teach hesther." on the th of july, , being at bath, her entry was, "i am returned from church the happy wife of my lovely, faithful piozzi. . . . subject of my prayers, object of my wishes, my sighs, my reverence, my esteem." her age then was forty-four, and on the th of december in the same year johnson died. the newspapers of the day dealt hardly with her. they called her an amorous widow, and piozzi a fortune-hunter. her eldest daughter (afterwards viscountess keith) refused to recognise the new father, and shut herself up in a house at brighton with a nurse, tib, where she lived upon two hundred a year. two younger sisters, who were at school, lived afterwards with the eldest. only the fourth daughter, the youngest, went with her mother and her mother's new husband to italy. johnson, too, was grieved by the marriage, and had shown it, but had written afterwards most kindly. mrs. piozzi in florence was playing at literature with the poetasters of "the florence miscellany" and "the british album" when she was working at these "anecdotes of the late samuel johnson." her book of anecdotes was planned at florence in , the year after her friend's death, finished at florence in october, , and published in the year . there is a touch of bitterness in the book which she thought of softening, but her "lovely, faithful piozzi" wished it to remain. h. m. author's preface. i have somewhere heard or read that the preface before a book, like the portico before a house, should be contrived so as to catch, but not detain, the attention of those who desire admission to the family within, or leave to look over the collection of pictures made by one whose opportunities of obtaining them we know to have been not unfrequent. i wish not to keep my readers long from such intimacy with the manners of dr. johnson, or such knowledge of his sentiments as these pages can convey. to urge my distance from england as an excuse for the book's being ill-written would be ridiculous; it might indeed serve as a just reason for my having written it at all; because, though others may print the same aphorisms and stories, i cannot _here_ be sure that they have done so. as the duke says, however, to the weaver, in _a midsummer night's dream_, "never excuse; if your play be a bad one, keep at least the excuses to yourself." i am aware that many will say i have not spoken highly enough of dr. johnson; but it will be difficult for those who say so to speak more highly. if i have described his manners as they were, i have been careful to show his superiority to the common forms of common life. it is surely no dispraise to an oak that it does not bear jessamine; and he who should plant honeysuckle round trajan's column would not be thought to adorn, but to disgrace it. when i have said that he was more a man of genius than of learning, i mean not to take from the one part of his character that which i willingly give to the other. the erudition of mr. johnson proved his genius; for he had not acquired it by long or profound study: nor can i think those characters the greatest which have most learning driven into their heads, any more than i can persuade myself to consider the river jenisca as superior to the nile, because the first receives near seventy tributary streams in the course of its unmarked progress to the sea, while the great parent of african plenty, flowing from an almost invisible source, and unenriched by any extraneous waters, except eleven nameless rivers, pours his majestic torrent into the ocean by seven celebrated mouths. but i must conclude my preface, and begin my book, the first i ever presented before the public; from whose awful appearance in some measure to defend and conceal myself, i have thought fit to retire behind the telamonian shield, and show as little of myself as possible, well aware of the exceeding difference there is between fencing in the school and fighting in the field. studious, however, to avoid offending, and careless of that offence which can be taken without a cause, i here not unwillingly submit my slight performance to the decision of that glorious country, which i have the daily delight to hear applauded in others, as eminently just, generous, and humane. anecdotes of the late samuel johnson, ll.d. too much intelligence is often as pernicious to biography as too little; the mind remains perplexed by contradiction of probabilities, and finds difficulty in separating report from truth. if johnson then lamented that so little had ever been said about butler, i might with more reason be led to complain that so much has been said about himself; for numberless informers but distract or cloud information, as glasses which multiply will for the most part be found also to obscure. of a life, too, which for the last twenty years was passed in the very front of literature, every leader of a literary company, whether officer or subaltern, naturally becomes either author or critic, so that little less than the recollection that it was _once_ the request of the deceased, and _twice_ the desire of those whose will i ever delighted to comply with, should have engaged me to add my little book to the number of those already written on the subject. i used to urge another reason for forbearance, and say, that all the readers would, on this singular occasion, be the writers of his life: like the first representation of the _masque of comus_, which, by changing their characters from spectators to performers, was _acted_ by the lords and ladies it was _written_ to entertain. this objection is, however, now at an end, as i have found friends, far remote indeed from literary questions, who may yet be diverted from melancholy by my description of johnson's manners, warmed to virtue even by the distant reflection of his glowing excellence, and encouraged by the relation of his animated zeal to persist in the profession as well as practice of christianity. samuel johnson was the son of michael johnson, a bookseller at lichfield, in staffordshire; a very pious and worthy man, but wrong-headed, positive, and afflicted with melancholy, as his son, from whom alone i had the information, once told me: his business, however, leading him to be much on horseback, contributed to the preservation of his bodily health and mental sanity, which, when he stayed long at home, would sometimes be about to give way; and mr. johnson said, that when his workshop, a detached building, had fallen half down for want of money to repair it, his father was not less diligent to lock the door every night, though he saw that anybody might walk in at the back part, and knew that there was no security obtained by barring the front door. "_this_," says his son, "was madness, you may see, and would have been discoverable in other instances of the prevalence of imagination, but that poverty prevented it from playing such tricks as riches and leisure encourage." michael was a man of still larger size and greater strength than his son, who was reckoned very like him, but did not delight in talking much of his family: "one has," says he, "_so_ little pleasure in reciting the anecdotes of beggary." one day, however, hearing me praise a favourite friend with partial tenderness as well as true esteem: "why do you like that man's acquaintance so?" said he. "because," replied i, "he is open and confiding, and tells me stories of his uncles and cousins; i love the light parts of a solid character." "nay, if you are for family history," says mr. johnson, good-humouredly, "_i_ can fit you: i had an uncle, cornelius ford, who, upon a journey, stopped and read an inscription written on a stone he saw standing by the wayside, set up, as it proved, in honour of a man who had leaped a certain leap thereabouts, the extent of which was specified upon the stone: 'why now,' says my uncle, 'i could leap it in my boots;' and he did leap it in his boots. i had likewise another uncle, andrew," continued he, "my father's brother, who kept the ring in smithfield (where they wrestled and boxed) for a whole year, and never was thrown or conquered. here now are uncles for you, mistress, if that's the way to your heart." mr. johnson was very conversant in the art of attack and defence by boxing, which science he had learned from this uncle andrew, i believe; and i have heard him descant upon the age when people were received, and when rejected, in the schools once held for that brutal amusement, much to the admiration of those who had no expectation of his skill in such matters, from the sight of a figure which precluded all possibility of personal prowess; though, because he saw mr. thrale one day leap over a cabriolet stool, to show that he was not tired after a chase of fifty miles or more, _he_ suddenly jumped over it too, but in a way so strange and so unwieldy, that our terror lest he should break his bones took from us even the power of laughing. michael johnson was past fifty years old when he married his wife, who was upwards of forty, yet i think her son told me she remained three years childless before he was born into the world, who so greatly contributed to improve it. in three years more she brought another son, nathaniel, who lived to be twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, and of whose manly spirit i have heard his brother speak with pride and pleasure, mentioning one circumstance, particular enough, that when the company were one day lamenting the badness of the roads, he inquired where they could be, as he travelled the country more than most people, and had never seen a bad road in his life. the two brothers did not, however, much delight in each other's company, being always rivals for the mother's fondness; and many of the severe reflections on domestic life in rasselas took their source from its author's keen recollections of the time passed in his early years. their father, michael, died of an inflammatory fever at the age of seventy-six, as mr. johnson told me, their mother at eighty-nine, of a gradual decay. she was slight in her person, he said, and rather below than above the common size. so excellent was her character, and so blameless her life, that when an oppressive neighbour once endeavoured to take from her a little field she possessed, he could persuade no attorney to undertake the cause against a woman so beloved in her narrow circle: and it is this incident he alludes to in the line of his "vanity of human wishes," calling her "the general favourite as the general friend." nor could any one pay more willing homage to such a character, though she had not been related to him, than did dr. johnson on every occasion that offered: his disquisition on pope's epitaph placed over mrs. corbet is a proof of that preference always given by him to a noiseless life over a bustling one; but however taste begins, we almost always see that it ends in simplicity; the glutton finishes by losing his relish for anything highly sauced, and calls for his boiled chicken at the close of many years spent in the search of dainties; the connoisseurs are soon weary of rubens, and the critics of lucan; and the refinements of every kind heaped upon civil life always sicken their possessors before the close of it. at the age of two years mr. johnson was brought up to london by his mother, to be touched by queen anne for the scrofulous evil, which terribly afflicted his childhood, and left such marks as greatly disfigured a countenance naturally harsh and rugged, beside doing irreparable damage to the auricular organs, which never could perform their functions since i knew him; and it was owing to that horrible disorder, too, that one eye was perfectly useless to him; that defect, however, was not observable, the eyes looked both alike. as mr. johnson had an astonishing memory, i asked him if he could remember queen anne at all? "he had," he said, "a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn, recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood." the christening of his brother he remembered with all its circumstances, and said his mother taught him to spell and pronounce the words 'little natty,' syllable by syllable, making him say it over in the evening to her husband and his guests. the trick which most parents play with their children, that of showing off their newly-acquired accomplishments, disgusted mr. johnson beyond expression. he had been treated so himself, he said, till he absolutely loathed his father's caresses, because he knew they were sure to precede some unpleasing display of his early abilities; and he used, when neighbours came o' visiting, to run up a tree that he might not be found and exhibited, such, as no doubt he was, a prodigy of early understanding. his epitaph upon the duck he killed by treading on it at five years old-- "here lies poor duck that samuel johnson trod on; if it had liv'd it had been good luck, for it would have been an odd one"-- is a striking example of early expansion of mind and knowledge of language; yet he always seemed more mortified at the recollection of the bustle his parents made with his wit than pleased with the thoughts of possessing it. "that," said he to me one day, "is the great misery of late marriages; the unhappy produce of them becomes the plaything of dotage. an old man's child," continued he, "leads much such a life. i think, as a little boy's dog, teased with awkward fondness, and forced, perhaps, to sit up and beg, as we call it, to divert a company, who at last go away complaining of their disagreeable entertainment." in consequence of these maxims, and full of indignation against such parents as delight to produce their young ones early into the talking world, i have known mr. johnson give a good deal of pain by refusing to hear the verses the children could recite, or the songs they could sing, particularly one friend who told him that his two sons should repeat gray's "elegy" to him alternately, that he might judge who had the happiest cadence. "no, pray, sir," said he, "let the dears both speak it at once; more noise will by that means be made, and the noise will be sooner over." he told me the story himself, but i have forgot who the father was. mr. johnson's mother was daughter to a gentleman in the country, such as there were many of in those days, who possessing, perhaps, one or two hundred pounds a year in land, lived on the profits, and sought not to increase their income. she was, therefore, inclined to think higher of herself than of her husband, whose conduct in money matters being but indifferent, she had a trick of teasing him about it, and was, by her son's account, very importunate with regard to her fears of spending more than they could afford, though she never arrived at knowing how much that was, a fault common, as he said, to most women who pride themselves on their economy. they did not, however, as i could understand, live ill together on the whole. "my father," says he, "could always take his horse and ride away for orders when things went badly." the lady's maiden name was ford; and the parson who sits next to the punch-bowl in hogarth's "modern midnight conversation" was her brother's son. this ford was a man who chose to be eminent only for vice, with talents that might have made him conspicuous in literature, and respectable in any profession he could have chosen. his cousin has mentioned him in the lives of fenton and of broome; and when he spoke of him to me it was always with tenderness, praising his acquaintance with life and manners, and recollecting one piece of advice that no man surely ever followed more exactly: "obtain," says ford, "some general principles of every science; he who can talk only on one subject, or act only in one department, is seldom wanted, and perhaps never wished for, while the man of general knowledge can often benefit, and always please." he used to relate, however, another story less to the credit of his cousin's penetration, how ford on some occasion said to him, "you will make your way the more easily in the world, i see, as you are contented to dispute no man's claim to conversation excellence; they will, therefore, more willingly allow your pretensions as a writer." can one, on such an occasion, forbear recollecting the predictions of boileau's father, when stroking the head of the young satirist?--"_ce petit bon homme_," says he, "_n'a point trop d'esprit_, mais il _ne dira jamais mal de personne_." such are the prognostics formed by men of wit and sense, as these two certainly were, concerning the future character and conduct of those for whose welfare they were honestly and deeply concerned; and so late do those features of peculiarity come to their growth, which mark a character to all succeeding generations. dr. johnson first learned to read of his mother and her old maid catharine, in whose lap he well remembered sitting while she explained to him the story of st. george and the dragon. i know not whether this is the proper place to add that such was his tenderness, and such his gratitude, that he took a journey to lichfield fifty-seven years afterwards to support and comfort her in her last illness; he had inquired for his nurse, and she was dead. the recollection of such reading as had delighted him in his infancy made him always persist in fancying that it was the only reading which could please an infant; and he used to condemn me for putting newbery's books into their hands as too trifling to engage their attention. "babies do not want," said he, "to hear about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds." when in answer i would urge the numerous editions and quick sale of "tommy prudent" or "goody two-shoes." "remember always," said he, "that the parents _buy_ the books, and that the children never read them." mrs. barbauld, however, had his best praise, and deserved it; no man was more struck than mr. johnson with voluntary descent from possible splendour to painful duty. at eight years old he went to school, for his health would not permit him to be sent sooner; and at the age of ten years his mind was disturbed by scruples of infidelity, which preyed upon his spirits and made him very uneasy, the more so as he revealed his uneasiness to no one, being naturally, as he said, "of a sullen temper and reserved disposition." he searched, however, diligently but fruitlessly, for evidences of the truth of revelation; and at length, recollecting a book he had once seen in his father's shop, entitled "de veritate religionis," etc., he began to think himself highly culpable for neglecting such a means of information, and took himself severely to task for this sin, adding many acts of voluntary, and to others unknown, penance. the first opportunity which offered, of course, he seized the book with avidity, but on examination, not finding himself scholar enough to peruse its contents, set his heart at rest; and, not thinking to inquire whether there were any english books written on the subject, followed his usual amusements, and considered his conscience as lightened of a crime. he redoubled his diligence to learn the language that contained the information he most wished for, but from the pain which guilt had given him he now began to deduce the soul's immortality, which was the point that belief first stopped at; and from that moment, resolving to be a christian, became one of the most zealous and pious ones our nation ever produced. when he had told me this odd anecdote of his childhood, "i cannot imagine," said he, "what makes me talk of myself to you so, for i really never mentioned this foolish story to anybody except dr. taylor, not even to my _dear_, _dear_ bathurst, whom i loved better than ever i loved any human creature; but poor bathurst is dead!" here a long pause and a few tears ensued. "why, sir," said i, "how like is all this to jean jacques rousseau--as like, i mean, as the sensations of frost and fire, when my child complained yesterday that the ice she was eating _burned_ her mouth." mr. johnson laughed at the incongruous ideas, but the first thing which presented itself to the mind of an ingenious and learned friend whom i had the pleasure to pass some time with here at florence was the same resemblance, though i think the two characters had little in common, further than an early attention to things beyond the capacity of other babies, a keen sensibility of right and wrong, and a warmth of imagination little consistent with sound and perfect health. i have heard him relate another odd thing of himself too, but it is one which everybody has heard as well as me: how, when he was about nine years old, having got the play of hamlet in his hand, and reading it quietly in his father's kitchen, he kept on steadily enough till, coming to the ghost scene, he suddenly hurried upstairs to the street door that he might see people about him. such an incident, as he was not unwilling to relate it, is probably in every one's possession now; he told it as a testimony to the merits of shakespeare. but one day, when my son was going to school, and dear dr. johnson followed as far as the garden gate, praying for his salvation in a voice which those who listened attentively could hear plain enough, he said to me suddenly, "make your boy tell you his dreams: the first corruption that entered into my heart was communicated in a dream." "what was it, sir?" said i. "do not ask me," replied he, with much violence, and walked away in apparent agitation. i never durst make any further inquiries. he retained a strong aversion for the memory of hunter, one of his schoolmasters, who, he said, once was a brutal fellow, "so brutal," added he, "that no man who had been educated by him ever sent his son to the same school." i have, however, heard him acknowledge his scholarship to be very great. his next master he despised, as knowing less than himself, i found, but the name of that gentleman has slipped my memory. mr. johnson was himself exceedingly disposed to the general indulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and ceremoniously attentive not to offend them; he had strongly persuaded himself of the difficulty people always find to erase early impressions either of kindness or resentment, and said "he should never have so loved his mother when a man had she not given him coffee she could ill afford, to gratify his appetite when a boy." "if you had had children, sir," said i, "would you have taught them anything?" "i hope," replied he, "that i should have willingly lived on bread and water to obtain instruction for them; but i would not have set their future friendship to hazard for the sake of thrusting into their heads knowledge of things for which they might not perhaps have either taste or necessity. you teach your daughters the diameters of the planets, and wonder when you have done that they do not delight in your company. no science can be communicated by mortal creatures without attention from the scholar; no attention can be obtained from children without the infliction of pain, and pain is never remembered without resentment." that something should be learned was, however, so certainly his opinion that i have heard him say how education had been often compared to agriculture, yet that it resembled it chiefly in this: "that if nothing is sown, no crop," says he, "can be obtained." his contempt of the lady who fancied her son could be eminent without study, because shakespeare was found wanting in scholastic learning, was expressed in terms so gross and so well known, i will not repeat them here. to recollect, however, and to repeat the sayings of dr. johnson, is almost all that can be done by the writers of his life, as his life, at least since my acquaintance with him, consisted in little else than talking, when he was not absolutely employed in some serious piece of work; and whatever work he did seemed so much below his powers of performance that he appeared the idlest of all human beings, ever musing till he was called out to converse, and conversing till the fatigue of his friends, or the promptitude of his own temper to take offence, consigned him back again to silent meditation. the remembrance of what had passed in his own childhood made mr. johnson very solicitous to preserve the felicity of children: and when he had persuaded dr. sumner to remit the tasks usually given to fill up boys' time during the holidays, he rejoiced exceedingly in the success of his negotiation, and told me that he had never ceased representing to all the eminent schoolmasters in england the absurd tyranny of poisoning the hour of permitted pleasure by keeping future misery before the children's eyes, and tempting them by bribery or falsehood to evade it. "bob sumner," said he, "however, i have at length prevailed upon. i know not, indeed, whether his tenderness was persuaded, or his reason convinced, but the effect will always be the same. poor dr. sumner died, however, before the next vacation." mr. johnson was of opinion, too, that young people should have _positive_, not _general_, rules given for their direction. "my mother," said he, "was always telling me that i did not _behave_ myself properly, that i should endeavour to learn _behaviour_, and such cant; but when i replied that she ought to tell me what to do, and what to avoid, her admonitions were commonly, for that time at least, at an end." this i fear was, however, at best a momentary refuge found out by perverseness. no man knew better than johnson in how many nameless and numberless actions _behaviour_ consists--actions which can scarcely be reduced to rule, and which come under no description. of these he retained so many very strange ones, that i suppose no one who saw his odd manner of gesticulating much blamed or wondered at the good lady's solicitude concerning her son's _behaviour_. though he was attentive to the peace of children in general, no man had a stronger contempt than he for such parents as openly profess that they cannot govern their children. "how," says he, "is an army governed? such people, for the most part, multiply prohibitions till obedience becomes impossible, and authority appears absurd, and never suspect that they tease their family, their friends, and themselves, only because conversation runs low, and something must be said." of parental authority, indeed, few people thought with a lower degree of estimation. i one day mentioned the resignation of cyrus to his father's will, as related by xenophon, when, after all his conquests, he requested the consent of cambyses to his marriage with a neighbouring princess, and i added rollin's applause and recommendation of the example. "do you not perceive, then," says johnson, "that xenophon on this occasion commends like a pedant, and pere rollin applauds like a slave? if cyrus by his conquests had not purchased emancipation, he had conquered to little purpose indeed. can you forbear to see the folly of a fellow who has in his care the lives of thousands, when he begs his papa permission to be married, and confesses his inability to decide in a matter which concerns no man's happiness but his own?" mr. johnson caught me another time reprimanding the daughter of my housekeeper for having sat down unpermitted in her mother's presence. "why, she gets her living, does she not," said he, "without her mother's help? let the wench alone," continued he. and when we were again out of the women's sight who were concerned in the dispute: "poor people's children, dear lady," said he, "never respect them. i did not respect my own mother, though i loved her. and one day, when in anger she called me a puppy, i asked her if she knew what they called a puppy's mother." we were talking of a young fellow who used to come often to the house; he was about fifteen years old, or less, if i remember right, and had a manner at once sullen and sheepish. "that lad," says mr. johnson, "looks like the son of a schoolmaster, which," added he, "is one of the very worst conditions of childhood. such a boy has no father, or worse than none; he never can reflect on his parent but the reflection brings to his mind some idea of pain inflicted, or of sorrow suffered." i will relate one thing more that dr. johnson said about babyhood before i quit the subject; it was this: "that little people should be encouraged always to tell whatever they hear particularly striking to some brother, sister, or servant immediately, before the impression is erased by the intervention of newer occurrences. he perfectly remembered the first time he ever heard of heaven and hell," he said, "because when his mother had made out such a description of both places as she thought likely to seize the attention of her infant auditor, who was then in bed with her, she got up, and dressing him before the usual time, sent him directly to call a favourite workman in the house, to whom he knew he would communicate the conversation while it was yet impressed upon his mind. the event was what she wished, and it was to that method chiefly that he owed his uncommon felicity of remembering distant occurrences and long past conversations." at the age of eighteen dr. johnson quitted school, and escaped from the tuition of those he hated or those he despised. i have heard him relate very few college adventures. he used to say that our best accounts of his behaviour there would be gathered from dr. adams and dr. taylor, and that he was sure they would always tell the truth. he told me, however, one day how, when he was first entered at the university, he passed a morning, in compliance with the customs of the place, at his tutor's chambers; but, finding him no scholar, went no more. in about ten days after, meeting the same gentleman, mr. jordan, in the street, he offered to pass by without saluting him; but the tutor stopped, and inquired, not roughly neither, what he had been doing? "sliding on the ice," was the reply, and so turned away with disdain. he laughed very heartily at the recollection of his own insolence, and said they endured it from him with wonderful acquiescence, and a gentleness that, whenever he thought of it, astonished himself. he told me, too, that when he made his first declamation, he wrote over but one copy, and that coarsely; and having given it into the hand of the tutor, who stood to receive it as he passed, was obliged to begin by chance and continue on how he could, for he had got but little of it by heart; so fairly trusting to his present powers for immediate supply, he finished by adding astonishment to the applause of all who knew how little was owing to study. a prodigious risk, however, said some one. "not at all!" exclaims johnson. "no man, i suppose, leaps at once into deep water who does not know how to swim." i doubt not but this story will be told by many of his biographers, and said so to him when he told it me on the th of july, . "and who will be my biographer," said he, "do you think?" "goldsmith, no doubt," replied i, "and he will do it the best among us." "the dog would write it best, to be sure," replied he; "but his particular malice towards me, and general disregard for truth, would make the book useless to all, and injurious to my character." "oh! as to that," said i, "we should all fasten upon him, and force him to do you justice; but the worst is, the doctor does not _know_ your life; nor can i tell indeed who does, except dr. taylor of ashbourne." "why, taylor," said he, "is better acquainted with my _heart_ than any man or woman now alive; and the history of my oxford exploits lies all between him and adams; but dr. james knows my very early days better than he. after my coming to london to drive the world about a little, you must all go to jack hawkesworth for anecdotes. i lived in great familiarity with him (though i think there was not much affection) from the year till the time mr. thrale and you took me up. i intend, however, to disappoint the rogues, and either make you write the life, with taylor's intelligence, or, which is better, do it myself, after outliving you all. i am now," added he, "keeping a diary, in hopes of using it for that purpose some time." here the conversation stopped, from my accidentally looking in an old magazine of the year , where i saw the following lines with his name to them, and asked if they were his:-- _verses said to be written by dr. samuel johnson_, _at the request of a gentleman to whom a lady had given a sprig of myrtle_. "what hopes, what terrors, does thy gift create, ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate; the myrtle, ensign of supreme command, consigned by venus to melissa's hand: not less capricious than a reigning fair, now grants, and now rejects a lover's prayer. in myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, in myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain: the myrtle crowns the happy lovers' heads, the unhappy lover's grave the myrtle spreads: oh, then, the meaning of thy gift impart, and ease the throbbings of an anxious heart! soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom, adorn philander's head, or grace his tomb." "why, now, do but see how the world is gaping for a wonder!" cries mr. johnson. "i think it is now just forty years ago that a young fellow had a sprig of myrtle given him by a girl he courted, and asked me to write him some verses that he might present her in return. i promised, but forgot; and when he called for his lines at the time agreed on--'sit still a moment,' says i, 'dear mund, and i'll fetch them thee,' so stepped aside for five minutes, and wrote the nonsense you now keep such a stir about." upon revising these anecdotes, it is impossible not to be struck with shame and regret that one treasured no more of them up; but no experience is sufficient to cure the vice of negligence. whatever one sees constantly, or might see constantly, becomes uninteresting; and we suffer every trivial occupation, every slight amusement, to hinder us from writing down what, indeed, we cannot choose but remember, but what we should wish to recollect with pleasure, unpoisoned by remorse for not remembering more. while i write this, i neglect impressing my mind with the wonders of art and beauties of nature that now surround me; and shall one day, perhaps, think on the hours i might have profitably passed in the florentine gallery, and reflecting on raphael's st. john at that time, as upon johnson's conversation in this moment, may justly exclaim of the months spent by me most delightfully in italy-- "that i prized every hour that passed by, beyond all that had pleased me before; but now they are past, and i sigh and i grieve that i prized them no more." shenstone. dr. johnson delighted in his own partiality for oxford; and one day, at my house, entertained five members of the other university with various instances of the superiority of oxford, enumerating the gigantic names of many men whom it had produced, with apparent triumph. at last i said to him, "why, there happens to be no less than five cambridge men in the room now." "i did not," said he, "think of that till you told me; but the wolf don't count the sheep." when the company were retired, we happened to be talking of dr. barnard, the provost of eton, who died about that time; and after a long and just eulogium on his wit, his learning, and his goodness of heart, "he was the only man, too," says mr. johnson, quite seriously, "that did justice to my good breeding; and you may observe that i am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. no man," continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, "no man is so cautious not to interrupt another; no man thinks it so necessary to appear attentive when others are speaking; no man so steadily refuses preference to himself, or so willingly bestows it on another, as i do; nobody holds so strongly as i do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of it, yet people think me rude; but barnard did me justice." "'tis pity," said i, laughing, "that he had not heard you compliment the cambridge men after dinner to-day." "why," replied he, "i was inclined to _down_ them sure enough; but then a fellow _deserves_ to be of oxford that talks so." i have heard him at other times relate how he used so sit in some coffee-house there, and turn m--- 's "c-r-ct-c-s" into ridicule for the diversion of himself and of chance comers-in. "the 'elf-da,'" says he, "was too exquisitely pretty; i could make no fun out of that." when upon some occasions he would express his astonishment that he should have an enemy in the world, while he had been doing nothing but good to his neighbours, i used to make him recollect these circumstances. "why, child," said he, "what harm could that do the fellow? i always thought very well of m---n for a _cambridge_ man; he is, i believe, a mighty blameless character." such tricks were, however, the more unpardonable in mr. johnson, because no one could harangue like him about the difficulty always found in forgiving petty injuries, or in provoking by needless offence. mr. jordan, his tutor, had much of his affection, though he despised his want of scholastic learning. "that creature would," said he, "defend his pupils to the last: no young lad under his care should suffer for committing slight improprieties, while he had breath to defend, or power to protect them. if i had had sons to send to college," added he, "jordan should have been their tutor." sir william browne, the physician, who lived to a very extraordinary age, and was in other respects an odd mortal, with more genius than understanding, and more self sufficiency than wit, was the only person who ventured to oppose mr. johnson when he had a mind to shine by exalting his favourite university, and to express his contempt of the whiggish notions which prevail at cambridge. _he_ did it once, however, with surprising felicity. his antagonist having repeated with an air of triumph the famous epigram written by dr. trapp-- "our royal master saw, with heedful eyes, the wants of his two universities: troops he to oxford sent, as knowing why that learned body wanted loyalty: but books to cambridge gave, as well discerning that that right loyal body wanted learning." which, says sir william, might well be answered thus:-- "the king to oxford sent his troop of horse, for tories own no argument but force; with equal care to cambridge books he sent, for whigs allow no force but argument." mr. johnson did him the justice to say it was one of the happiest extemporaneous productions he ever met with, though he once comically confessed that he hated to repeat the wit of a whig urged in support of whiggism. says garrick to him one day, "why did not you make me a tory, when we lived so much together? you love to make people tories." "why," says johnson, pulling a heap of halfpence from his pocket, "did not the king make these guineas?" of mr. johnson's toryism the world has long been witness, and the political pamphlets written by him in defence of his party are vigorous and elegant. he often delighted his imagination with the thoughts of having destroyed junius, an anonymous writer who flourished in the years and , and who kept himself so ingeniously concealed from every endeavour to detect him that no probable guess was, i believe, ever formed concerning the author's name, though at that time the subject of general conversation. mr. johnson made us all laugh one day, because i had received a remarkably fine stilton cheese as a present from some person who had packed and directed it carefully, but without mentioning whence it came. mr. thrale, desirous to know who we were obliged to, asked every friend as they came in, but nobody owned it. "depend upon it, sir," says johnson, "it was sent by _junius_." the "false alarm," his first and favourite pamphlet, was written at our house between eight o'clock on wednesday night and twelve o'clock on thursday night. we read it to mr. thrale when he came very late home from the house of commons; the other political tracts followed in their order. i have forgotten which contains the stroke at junius, but shall for ever remember the pleasure it gave him to have written it. it was, however, in the year that mr. edmund burke made the famous speech in parliament that struck even foes with admiration, and friends with delight. among the nameless thousands who are contented to echo those praises they have not skill to invent, _i_ ventured, before dr. johnson himself, to applaud with rapture the beautiful passage in it concerning lord bathurst and the angel, which, said our doctor, had i been in the house, i would have answered _thus_:-- "suppose, mr. speaker, that to wharton or to marlborough, or to any of the eminent whigs of the last age, the devil had, not with any great impropriety, consented to appear, he would, perhaps, in somewhat like these words, have commenced the conversation: "'you seem, my lord, to be concerned at the judicious apprehension that while you are sapping the foundations of royalty at home, and propagating here the dangerous doctrine of resistance, the distance of america may secure its inhabitants from your arts, though active. but i will unfold to you the gay prospects of futurity. this people, now so innocent and harmless, shall draw the sword against their mother country, and bathe its point in the blood of their benefactors; this people, now contented with a little, shall then refuse to spare what they themselves confess they could not miss; and these men, now so honest and so grateful, shall, in return for peace and for protection, see their vile agents in the house of parliament, there to sow the seeds of sedition, and propagate confusion, perplexity, and pain. be not dispirited, then, at the contemplation of their present happy state: i promise you that anarchy, poverty, and death shall, by my care, be carried even across the spacious atlantic, and settle in america itself, the sure consequences of our beloved whiggism.'" this i thought a thing so very particular that i begged his leave to write it down directly, before anything could intervene that might make me forget the force of the expressions. a trick which i have, however, seen played on common occasions, of sitting steadily down at the other end of the room to write at the moment what should be said in company, either _by_ dr. johnson or _to_ him, i never practised myself, nor approved of in another. there is something so ill-bred, and so inclining to treachery in this conduct, that were it commonly adopted all confidence would soon be exiled from society, and a conversation assembly- room would become tremendous as a court of justice. a set of acquaintance joined in familiar chat may say a thousand things which, as the phrase is, pass well enough at the time, though they cannot stand the test of critical examination; and as all talk beyond that which is necessary to the purposes of actual business is a kind of game, there will be ever found ways of playing fairly or unfairly at it, which distinguish the gentleman from the juggler. dr. johnson, as well as many of my acquaintance, knew that i kept a common-place book, and he one day said to me good-humouredly that he would give me something to write in my repository. "i warrant," said he, "there is a great deal about me in it. you shall have at least one thing worth your pains, so if you will get the pen and ink i will repeat to you anacreon's 'dove' directly; but tell at the same time that as i never was struck with anything in the greek language till i read _that_, so i never read anything in the same language since that pleased me as much. i hope my translation," continued he, "is not worse than that of frank fawkes." seeing me disposed to laugh, "nay, nay," said he, "frank fawkes has done them very finely." "lovely courier of the sky, whence and whither dost thou fly? scatt'ring, as thy pinions play, liquid fragrance all the way. is it business? is it love? tell me, tell me, gentle dove. 'soft anacreon's vows i bear, vows to myrtale the fair; graced with all that charms the heart, blushing nature, smiling art. venus, courted by an ode, on the bard her dove bestowed. vested with a master's right now anacreon rules my flight; his the letters that you see, weighty charge consigned to me; think not yet my service hard, joyless task without reward; smiling at my master's gates, freedom my return awaits. but the liberal grant in vain tempts me to be wild again. can a prudent dove decline blissful bondage such as mine? over hills and fields to roam, fortune's guest without a home; under leaves to hide one's head, slightly sheltered, coarsely fed; now my better lot bestows sweet repast, and soft repose; now the generous bowl i sip as it leaves anacreon's lip; void of care, and free from dread, from his fingers snatch his bread, then with luscious plenty gay, round his chamber dance and play; or from wine, as courage springs, o'er his face extend my wings; and when feast and frolic tire, drop asleep upon his lyre. this is all, be quick and go, more than all thou canst not know; let me now my pinions ply, i have chattered like a pie.'" when i had finished, "but you must remember to add," says mr. johnson, "that though these verses were planned, and even begun, when i was sixteen years old, i never could find time to make an end of them before i was sixty-eight." this facility of writing, and this dilatoriness ever to write, mr. johnson always retained, from the days that he lay abed and dictated his first publication to mr. hector, who acted as his amanuensis, to the moment he made me copy out those variations in pope's "homer" which are printed in the "poets' lives." "and now," said he, when i had finished it for him, "i fear not mr. nicholson of a pin." the fine 'rambler,' on the subject of procrastination, was hastily composed, as i have heard, in sir joshua reynolds's parlour, while the boy waited to carry it to press; and numberless are the instances of his writing under immediate pressure of importunity or distress. he told me that the character of sober in the 'idler' was by himself intended as his own portrait, and that he had his own outset into life in his eye when he wrote the eastern story of "gelaleddin." of the allegorical papers in the 'rambler,' labour and rest was his favourite; but scrotinus, the man who returns late in life to receive honours in his native country, and meets with mortification instead of respect, was by him considered as a masterpiece in the science of life and manners. the character of prospero in the fourth volume garrick took to be his; and i have heard the author say that he never forgave the offence. sophron was likewise a picture drawn from reality, and by gelidus, the philosopher, he meant to represent mr. coulson, a mathematician, who formerly lived at rochester. the man immortalised for purring like a cat was, as he told me, one busby, a proctor in the commons. he who barked so ingeniously, and then called the drawer to drive away the dog, was father to dr. salter, of the charterhouse. he who sang a song, and by correspondent motions of his arm chalked out a giant on the wall, was one richardson, an attorney. the letter signed "sunday" was written by miss talbot; and he fancied the billets in the first volume of the 'rambler' were sent him by miss mulso, now mrs. chapone. the papers contributed by mrs. carter had much of his esteem, though he always blamed me for preferring the letter signed "chariessa" to the allegory, where religion and superstition are indeed most masterly delineated. when dr. johnson read his own satire, in which the life of a scholar is painted, with the various obstructions thrown in his way to fortune and to fame, he burst into a passion of tears one day. the family and mr. scott only were present, who, in a jocose way, clapped him on the back, and said, "what's all this, my dear sir? why, you and i and _hercules_, you know, were all troubled with _melancholy_." as there are many gentlemen of the same name, i should say, perhaps, that it was a mr. scott who married miss robinson, and that i think i have heard mr. thrale call him george lowis, or george augustus, i have forgot which. he was a very large man, however, and made out the triumvirate with johnson and hercules comically enough. the doctor was so delighted at his odd sally that he suddenly embraced him, and the subject was immediately changed. i never saw mr. scott but that once in my life. dr. johnson was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to others, i think; and innumerable are the prefaces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him. mr. murphy related in his and my hearing one day, and he did not deny it, that when murphy joked him the week before for having been so diligent of late between dodd's sermon and kelly's prologue, dr. johnson replied, "why, sir, when they come to me with a dead staymaker and a dying parson, what can a man do?" he _said_, however, that "he hated to give away literary performances, or even to sell them too cheaply. the next generation shall not accuse me," added he, "of beating down the price of literature. one hates, besides, ever to give that which one has been accustomed to sell. would not you, sir," turning to mr. thrale, "rather give away money than porter?" mr. johnson had never, by his own account, been a close student, and used to advise young people never to be without a book in their pocket, to be read at bye-times when they had nothing else to do. "it has been by that means," said he to a boy at our house one day, "that all my knowledge has been gained, except what i have picked up by running about the world with my wits ready to observe, and my tongue ready to talk. a man is seldom in a humour to unlock his bookcase, set his desk in order, and betake himself to serious study; but a retentive memory will do something, and a fellow shall have strange credit given him, if he can but recollect striking passages from different books, keep the authors separate in his head, and bring his stock of knowledge artfully into play. how else," added he, "do the gamesters manage when they play for more money than they are worth?" his dictionary, however, could not, one would think, have been written by running up and down; but he really did not consider it as a great performance; and used to say "that he might have done it easily in two years had not his health received several shocks during the time." when mr. thrale, in consequence of this declaration, teased him in the year to give a new edition of it, because, said he, there are four or five gross faults: "alas! sir," replied johnson, "there are four or five hundred faults instead of four or five; but you do not consider that it would take me up three whole months' labour, and when the time was expired the work would not be done." when the booksellers set him about it, however, some years after, he went cheerfully to the business, said he was well paid, and that they deserved to have it done carefully. his reply to the person who complimented him on its coming out first, mentioning the ill success of the french in a similar attempt, is well known, and, i trust, has been often recorded. "why, what would you expect, dear sir," said he, "from fellows that eat frogs?" i have, however, often thought dr. johnson more free than prudent in professing so loudly his little skill in the greek language; for though he considered it as a proof of a narrow mind to be too careful of literary reputation, yet no man could be more enraged than he if an enemy, taking advantage of this confession, twitted him with his ignorance; and i remember when the king of denmark was in england one of his noblemen was brought by mr. colman to see dr. johnson at our country house, and having heard, he said, that he was not famous for greek literature, attacked him on the weak side, politely adding that he chose that conversation on purpose to favour himself. our doctor, however, displayed so copious, so compendious a knowledge of authors, books, and every branch of learning in that language, that the gentleman appeared astonished. when he was gone home, says johnson, "now, for all this triumph i may thank thrale's xenophon here, as i think, excepting that _one_, i have not looked in a greek book these ten years; but see what haste my dear friends were all in," continued he, "to tell this poor innocent foreigner that i know nothing of greek! oh, no, he knows nothing of greek!" with a loud burst of laughing. when davies printed the "fugitive pieces" without his knowledge or consent, "how," said i, "would pope have raved, had he been served so!" "we should never," replied he, "have heard the last on't, to be sure; but then pope was a narrow man. i will, however," added he, "storm and bluster _myself_ a little this time," so went to london in all the wrath he could muster up. at his return i asked how the affair ended. "why," said he, "i was a fierce fellow, and pretended to be very angry; and thomas was a good-natured fellow, and pretended to be very sorry; so _there_ the matter ended. i believe the dog loves me dearly. mr. thrale," turning to my husband, "what shall you and i do that is good for tom davies? we will do something for him, to be sure." of pope as a writer he had the highest opinion, and once when a lady at our house talked of his preface to shakespeare as superior to pope's, "i fear not, madam," said he, "the little fellow has done wonders." his superior reverence of dryden, notwithstanding, still appeared in his talk as in his writings; and when some one mentioned the ridicule thrown on him in the 'rehearsal,' as having hurt his general character as an author, "on the contrary," says mr. johnson, "the greatness of dryden's reputation is now the only principle of vitality which keeps the duke of buckingham's play from putrefaction." it was not very easy, however, for people not quite intimate with dr. johnson to get exactly his opinion of a writer's merit, as he would now and then divert himself by confounding those who thought themselves obliged to say to-morrow what he had said yesterday; and even garrick, who ought to have been better acquainted with his tricks, professed himself mortified that one time when he was extolling dryden in a rapture that i suppose disgusted his friend, mr. johnson suddenly challenged him to produce twenty lines in a series that would not disgrace the poet and his admirer. garrick produced a passage that he had once heard the doctor commend, in which he _now_ found, if i remember rightly, sixteen faults, and made garrick look silly at his own table. when i told mr. johnson the story, "why, what a monkey was david now," says he, "to tell of his own disgrace!" and in the course of that hour's chat he told me how he used to tease garrick by commendations of the tomb-scene in congreve's 'mourning bride,' protesting, that shakespeare had in the same line of excellence nothing as good. "all which is strictly _true_," said he; "but that is no reason for supposing congreve is to stand in competition with shakespeare: these fellows know not how to blame, nor how to commend." i forced him one day, in a similar humour, to prefer young's description of "night" to the so much admired ones of dryden and shakespeare, as more forcible and more general. every reader is not either a lover or a tyrant, but every reader is interested when he hears that "creation sleeps; 'tis as the general pulse of life stood still, and nature made a pause; an awful pause--prophetic of its end." "this," said he, "is true; but remember that, taking the compositions of young in general, they are but like bright stepping-stones over a miry road. young froths and foams, and bubbles sometimes very vigorously; but we must not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle here with the roaring of the ocean." somebody was praising corneille one day in opposition to shakespeare. "corneille is to shakespeare," replied mr. johnson, "as a clipped hedge is to a forest." when we talked of steele's essays, "they are too thin," says our critic, "for an englishman's taste: mere superficial observations on life and manners, without erudition enough to make them keep, like the light french wines, which turn sour with standing awhile for want of _body_, as we call it." of a much-admired poem, when extolled as beautiful, he replied, "that it had indeed the beauty of a bubble. the colours are gay," said he, "but the substance slight." of james harris's dedication to his "hermes," i have heard him observe that, though but fourteen lines long, there were six grammatical faults in it. a friend was praising the style of dr. swift; mr. johnson did not find himself in the humour to agree with him: the critic was driven from one of his performances to the other. at length, "you _must_ allow me," said the gentleman, "that there are _strong facts_ in the account of 'the four last years of queen anne.'" "yes, surely, sir," replies johnson, "and so there are in the ordinary of newgate's account." this was like the story which mr. murphy tells, and johnson always acknowledged: how mr. rose of hammersmith, contending for the preference of scotch writers over the english, after having set up his authors like ninepins, while the doctor kept bowling them down again; at last, to make sure of victory, he named ferguson upon "civil society," and praised the book for being written in a _new_ manner. "i do not," says johnson, "perceive the value of this new manner; it is only like buckinger, who had no hands, and so wrote with his feet." of a modern martial, when it came out: "there are in these verses," says dr. johnson, "too much folly for madness, i think, and too much madness for folly." if, however, mr. johnson lamented that the nearer he approached to his own times, the more enemies he should make, by telling biographical truths in his "lives of the later poets," what may i not apprehend, who, if i relate anecdotes of mr. johnson, am obliged to repeat expressions of severity, and sentences of contempt? let me at least soften them a little by saying that he did not hate the persons he treated with roughness, or despise them whom he drove from him by apparent scorn. he really loved and respected many whom he would not suffer to love him. and when he related to me a short dialogue that passed between himself and a writer of the first eminence in the world, when he was in scotland, i was shocked to think how he must have disgusted him. "dr. --- asked me," said he, "why i did not join in their public worship when among them? for," said he, "i went to your churches often when in england." "so," replied johnson, "i have read that the siamese sent ambassadors to louis quatorze, but i never heard that the king of france thought it worth his while to send ambassadors from his court to that of _siam_." he was no gentler with myself, or those for whom i had the greatest regard. when i one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in america, "prithee, my dear," said he, "have done with canting. how would the world be worse for it, i may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for presto's supper?" presto was the dog that lay under the table while we talked. when we went into wales together, and spent some time at sir robert cotton's, at lleweny, one day at dinner i meant to please mr. johnson particularly with a dish of very young peas. "are not they charming?" said i to him, while he was eating them. "perhaps," said he, "they would be so--to a _pig_." i only instance these replies, to excuse my mentioning those he made to others. when a well-known author published his poems in the year : "such a one's verses are come out," said i. "yes," replied johnson, "and this frost has struck them in again. here are some lines i have written to ridicule them; but remember that i love the fellow dearly now, for all i laugh at him:-- "'wheresoe'er i turn my view, all is strange, yet nothing new; endless labour all along, endless labour to be wrong; phrase that time has flung away; uncouth words in disarray, tricked in antique ruff and bonnet, ode, and elegy, and sonnet.'" when he parodied the verses of another eminent writer, it was done with more provocation, i believe, and with some merry malice. a serious translation of the same lines, which i think are from euripides, may be found in burney's "history of music." here are the burlesque ones:-- "err shall they not, who resolute explore time's gloomy backward with judicious eyes; and scanning right the practices of yore, shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. "they to the dome where smoke with curling play announced the dinner to the regions round, summoned the singer blithe, and harper gay, and aided wine with dulcet streaming sound. "the better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, by quivering string, or modulated wind; trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill, admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. "oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun, her baleful eyes where sorrow rolls around; where gloom-enamoured mischief loves to dwell, and murder, all blood-boltered, schemes the wound. "when cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, and purple nectar glads the festive hour; the guest, without a want, without a wish, can yield no room to music's soothing power." some of the old legendary stories put in verse by modern writers provoked him to caricature them thus one day at streatham; but they are already well known, i am sure. "the tender infant, meek and mild, fell down upon the stone; the nurse took up the squealing child, but still the child squealed on." a famous ballad also, beginning 'rio verde, rio verde,' when i commended the translation of it, he said he could do it better himself--as thus: "glassy water, glassy water, down whose current clear and strong, chiefs confused in mutual slaughter, moor and christian roll along." "but, sir," said i, "this is not ridiculous at all." "why, no," replied he, "why should i always write ridiculously? perhaps because i made these verses to imitate such a one," naming him: "'hermit hoar, in solemn cell wearing out life's evening grey; strike thy bosom, sage! and tell what is bliss, and which the way?' "thus i spoke, and speaking sighed, scarce repressed the starting tear, when the hoary sage replied, 'come, my lad, and drink some beer.'" i could give another comical instance of caricatura imitation. recollecting some day, when praising these verses of lopez de vega-- "se acquien los leones vence, vence una muger hermosa, o el de flaco averguence, o ella di ser mas furiosa," more than he thought they deserved, mr. johnson instantly observed "that they were founded on a trivial conceit, and that conceit ill-explained and ill-expressed besides. the lady, we all know, does not conquer in the same manner as the lion does. 'tis a mere play of words," added he, "and you might as well say that "'if the man who turnips cries, cry not when his father dies, 'tis a proof that he had rather have a turnip than his father.'" and this humour is of the same sort with which he answered the friend who commended the following line:-- "who rules o'er freemen should himself be free." "to be sure," said dr. johnson-- "'who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.'" this readiness of finding a parallel, or making one, was shown by him perpetually in the course of conversation. when the french verses of a certain pantomime were quoted thus: "je suis cassandre descendue des cieux, pour vous faire entendre, mesdames et messieurs, que je suis cassandre descendue des cieux," he cried out gaily and suddenly, almost in a moment-- "i am cassandra come down from the sky, to tell each bystander what none can deny, that i am cassandra come down from the sky." the pretty italian verses, too, at the end of baretti's book called "easy phraseology," he did all' improviso, in the same manner: "viva! viva la padrona! tutta bella, e tutta buona, la padrona e un angiolella tutta buona e tutta bella; tutta bella e tutta buona; viva! viva la padrona!" "long may live my lovely hetty! always young and always pretty, always pretty, always young, live my lovely hetty long! always young and always pretty! long may live my lovely hetty!" the famous distich, too, of an italian improvisatore, when the duke of modena ran away from the comet in the year or : "se al venir vestro i principi sen' vanno, deh venga ogni di --- durate un anno;" "which," said he, "would do just as well in our language thus: "'if at your coming princes disappear, comets! come every day--and stay a year.'" when some one in company commended the verses of m. de benserade a son lit: "theatre des ris et des pleurs, lit! on je nais, et ou je meurs, tu nous fais voir comment voisins sont nos plaisirs et nos chagrins." to which he replied without hesitating-- "'in bed we laugh, in bed we cry, and born in bed, in bed we die; the near approach a bed may show of human bliss to human woe.'" the inscription on the collar of sir joseph banks's goat, which had been on two of his adventurous expeditions with him, and was then, by the humanity of her amiable master, turned out to graze in kent as a recompense for her utility and faithful service, was given me by johnson in the year , i think, and i have never yet seen it printed: "perpetui, ambita, bis terra, premia lactis, haec habet altrici capra secunda jovis." the epigram written at lord anson's house many years ago, "where," says mr. johnson, "i was well received and kindly treated, and with the true gratitude of a wit ridiculed the master of the house before i had left it an hour," has been falsely printed in many papers since his death. i wrote it down from his own lips one evening in august, , not neglecting the little preface accusing himself of making so graceless a return for the civilities shown him. he had, among other elegancies about the park and gardens, been made to observe a temple to the winds, when this thought naturally presented itself _to a wit_: "gratum animum laudo; qui debuit omnia ventis, quam bene ventorum, surgere templa jubet!" a translation of dryden's epigram, too, i used to fancy i had to myself: "quos laudet vates, graius, romanus, et anglus, tres tria temporibus secla dedere suis: sublime ingenium, graius,--romanus habebat carmen grande sonans, anglus utrumque tulit. nil majus natura capit: clarare priores quae potuere duos, tertius unus habet:" from the famous lines written under milton's picture: "three poets in three distant ages born, greece, italy, and england did adorn; the first in loftiness of thought surpassed, the next in majesty; in both the last. the force of nature could no further go, to make a third she joined the former two." one evening in the oratorio season of the year mr. johnson went with me to covent garden theatre, and though he was for the most part an exceedingly bad playhouse companion, as his person drew people's eyes upon the box, and the loudness of his voice made it difficult for me to hear anybody but himself, he sat surprisingly quiet, and i flattered myself that he was listening to the music. when we were got home, however, he repeated these verses, which he said he had made at the oratorio, and he bade me translate them: in theatro. "tertii verso quater orbe lustri quid theatrales tibi crispe pompae! quam decet canos male literatos sera voluptas! "tene mulceri fidibus canoris? tene cantorum modulis stupere? tene per pictas oculo elegante currere formas? "inter equales sine felle liber, codices veri studiosus inter rectius vives, sua quisque carpat gaudia gratus. "lusibus gaudet puer otiosis luxus oblectat juvenem theatri, at seni fluxo sapienter uti tempore restat." i gave him the following lines in imitation, which he liked well enough, i think: "when threescore years have chilled thee quite, still can theatric scenes delight? ill suits this place with learned wight, may bates or coulson cry. "the scholar's pride can brent disarm? his heart can soft guadagni warm? or scenes with sweet delusion charm the climacteric eye? "the social club, the lonely tower, far better suit thy midnight hour; let each according to his power in worth or wisdom shine! "and while play pleases idle boys, and wanton mirth fond youth employs, to fix the soul, and free from toys, that useful task be thine." the copy of verses in latin hexameters, as well as i remember, which he wrote to dr. lawrence, i forgot to keep a copy of; and he obliged me to resign his translation of the song beginning, "busy, curious, thirsty fly," for him to give mr. langton, with a promise _not_ to retain a copy. i concluded he knew why, so never inquired the reason. he had the greatest possible value for mr. langton, of langton hall, lincoln, of whose virtue and learning he delighted to talk in very exalted terms; and poor dr. lawrence had long been his friend and confident. the conversation i saw them hold together in essex street one day, in the year or , was a melancholy one, and made a singular impression on my mind. he was himself exceedingly ill, and i accompanied him thither for advice. the physician was, however, in some respects more to be pitied than the patient. johnson was panting under an asthma and dropsy, but lawrence had been brought home that very morning struck with the palsy, from which he had, two hours before we came, strove to awaken himself by blisters. they were both deaf, and scarce able to speak besides: one from difficulty of breathing, the other from paralytic debility. to give and receive medical counsel, therefore, they fairly sat down on each side a table in the doctor's gloomy apartment, adorned with skeletons, preserved monsters, etc., and agreed to write latin billets to each other. such a scene did i never see. "you," said johnson, "are timide and gelide," finding that his friend had prescribed palliative, not drastic, remedies. "it is not _me_," replies poor lawrence, in an interrupted voice, "'tis nature that is gelide and timide." in fact, he lived but few months after, i believe, and retained his faculties still a shorter time. he was a man of strict piety and profound learning, but little skilled in the knowledge of life or manners, and died without having ever enjoyed the reputation he so justly deserved. mr. johnson's health had been always extremely bad since i first knew him, and his over-anxious care to retain without blemish the perfect sanity of his mind contributed much to disturb it. he had studied medicine diligently in all its branches, but had given particular attention to the diseases of the imagination, which he watched in himself with a solicitude destructive of his own peace, and intolerable to those he trusted. dr. lawrence told him one day that if he would come and beat him once a week he would bear it, but to hear his complaints was more than _man_ could support. 'twas therefore that he tried, i suppose, and in eighteen years contrived to weary the patience of a _woman_. when mr. johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt it, disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study of arithmetic, and one day that he was totally confined to his chamber, and i inquired what he had been doing to divert himself, he showed me a calculation which i could scarce be made to understand, so vast was the plan of it, and so very intricate were the figures: no other, indeed, than that the national debt, computing it at one hundred and eighty millions sterling, would, if converted into silver, serve to make a meridian of that metal, i forgot how broad, for the globe of the whole earth, the real _globe_. on a similar occasion i asked him, knowing what subject he would like best to talk upon, how his opinion stood towards the question between paschal and soame jennings about number and numeration? as the french philosopher observes that infinity, though on all sides astonishing, appears most so when the idea is connected with the idea of number; for the notion of infinite number--and infinite number we know there is--stretches one's capacity still more than the idea of infinite space. "such a notion, indeed," adds he, "can scarcely find room in the human mind." our english author, on the other hand, exclaims, let no man give himself leave to talk about infinite number, for infinite number is a contradiction in terms; whatever is once numbered, we all see, cannot be infinite. "i think," said mr. johnson, after a pause, "we must settle the matter thus: numeration is certainly infinite, for eternity might be employed in adding unit to unit; but every number is in itself finite, as the possibility of doubling it easily proves; besides, stop at what point you will, you find yourself as far from infinitude as ever." these passages i wrote down as soon as i had heard them, and repent that i did not take the same method with a dissertation he made one other day that he was very ill, concerning the peculiar properties of the number sixteen, which i afterwards tried, but in vain, to make him repeat. as ethics or figures, or metaphysical reasoning, was the sort of talk he most delighted in, so no kind of conversation pleased him less, i think, than when the subject was historical fact or general polity. "what shall we learn from _that_ stuff?" said he. "let us not fancy, like swift, that we are exalting a woman's character by telling how she "'could name the ancient heroes round, explain for what they were renowned,' etc." i must not, however, lead my readers to suppose that he meant to reserve such talk for men's company as a proof of pre-eminence. "he never," as he expressed it, "desired to hear of the punic war while he lived; such conversation was lost time," he said, "and carried one away from common life, leaving no ideas behind which could serve _living wight_ as warning or direction." "how i should act is not the case, but how would brutus in my place." "and now," cries mr. johnson, laughing with obstreperous violence, "if these two foolish lines can be equalled in folly, except by the two succeeding ones--show them me." i asked him once concerning the conversation powers of a gentleman with whom i was myself unacquainted. "he talked to me at club one day," replies our doctor, "concerning catiline's conspiracy, so i withdrew my attention, and thought about tom thumb." modern politics fared no better. i was one time extolling the character of a statesman, and expatiating on the skill required to direct the different currents, reconcile the jarring interests, etc. "thus," replies he, "a mill is a complicated piece of mechanism enough, but the water is no part of the workmanship." on another occasion, when some one lamented the weakness of a then present minister, and complained that he was dull and tardy, and knew little of affairs: "you may as well complain, sir," says johnson, "that the accounts of time are kept by the clock; for he certainly does stand still upon the stair-head--and we all know that he is no great chronologer." in the year , or thereabouts, when all the talk was of an invasion, he said most pathetically one afternoon, "alas! alas! how this unmeaning stuff spoils all my comfort in my friends' conversation! will the people have done with it; and shall i never hear a sentence again without the _french_ in it? here is no invasion coming, and you _know_ there is none. let the vexatious and frivolous talk alone, or suffer it at least to teach you _one_ truth; and learn by this perpetual echo of even unapprehended distress how historians magnify events expected or calamities endured; when you know they are at this very moment collecting all the big words they can find, in which to describe a consternation never felt, for a misfortune which never happened. among all your lamentations, who eats the less--who sleeps the worse, for one general's ill-success, or another's capitulation? _oh_, _pray_ let us hear no more of it!" no man, however, was more zealously attached to his party; he not only loved a tory himself, but he loved a man the better if he heard he hated a whig. "dear bathurst," said he to me one day, "was a man to my very heart's content: he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue, and he hated a _whig_; he was a very good _hater_." some one mentioned a gentleman of that party for having behaved oddly on an occasion where faction was not concerned: "is he not a citizen of london, a native of north america, and a whig?" says johnson. "let him be absurd, i beg you of you; when a monkey is _too_ like a man, it shocks one." severity towards the poor was, in dr. johnson's opinion (as is visible in his "life of addison" particularly), an undoubted and constant attendant or consequence upon whiggism; and he was not contented with giving them relief, he wished to add also indulgence. he loved the poor as i never yet saw any one else do, with an earnest desire to make them happy. "what signifies," says some one, "giving halfpence to common beggars? they only lay it out in gin or tobacco." "and why should they be denied such sweeteners of their existence?" says johnson; "it is surely very savage to refuse them every possible avenue to pleasure, reckoned too coarse for our own acceptance. life is a pill which none of us can bear to swallow without gilding; yet for the poor we delight in stripping it still barer, and are not ashamed to show even visible displeasure if ever the bitter taste is taken from their mouths." in consequence of these principles he nursed whole nests of people in his house, where the lame, the blind, the sick, and the sorrowful found a sure retreat from all the evils whence his little income could secure them: and commonly spending the middle of the week at our house, he kept his numerous family in fleet street upon a settled allowance; but returned to them every saturday, to give them three good dinners, and his company, before he came back to us on the monday night--treating them with the same, or perhaps more ceremonious civility than he would have done by as many people of fashion--making the holy scriptures thus the rule of his conduct, and only expecting salvation as he was able to obey its precepts. while dr. johnson possessed, however, the strongest compassion for poverty or illness, he did not even pretend to feel for those who lamented the loss of a child, a parent, or a friend. "these are the distresses of sentiment," he would reply, "which a man who is really to be pitied has no leisure to feel. the sight of people who want food and raiment is so common in great cities, that a surly fellow like me has no compassion to spare for wounds given only to vanity or softness." no man, therefore, who smarted from the ingratitude of his friends, found any sympathy from our philosopher. "let him do good on higher motives next time," would be the answer; "he will then be sure of his reward." it is easy to observe that the justice of such sentences made them offensive; but we must be careful how we condemn a man for saying what we know to be true, only because it _is_ so. i hope that the reason our hearts rebelled a little against his severity was chiefly because it came from a living mouth. books were invented to take off the odium of immediate superiority, and soften the rigour of duties prescribed by the teachers and censors of human kind--setting at least those who are acknowledged wiser than ourselves at a distance. when we recollect, however, that for this very reason _they_ are seldom consulted and little obeyed, how much cause shall his contemporaries have to rejoice that their living johnson forced them to feel there proofs due to vice and folly, while seneca and tillotson were no longer able to make impression--except on our shelves! few things, indeed, which pass well enough with others would do with him: he had been a great reader of mandeville, and was ever on the watch to spy out those stains of original corruption so easily discovered by a penetrating observer even in the purest minds. i mentioned an event, which if it had happened would greatly have injured mr. thrale and his family--"and then, dear sir," said i, "how sorry you would have been!" "i _hope_," replied he, after a long pause, "i should have been _very_ sorry; but remember rochefoucault's maxim." "i would rather," answered i, "remember prior's verses, and ask-- 'what need of books these truths to tell, which folks perceive that cannot spell? and must we spectacles apply, to see what hurts our naked eye?' will _anybody's_ mind bear this eternal microscope that you place upon your own so?" "i never," replied he, "saw one that _would_, except that of my dear miss reynolds--and hers is very near to purity itself." of slighter evils, and friends more distant than our own household, he spoke less cautiously. an acquaintance lost the almost certain hope of a good estate that had been long expected. "such a one will grieve," said i, "at her friend's disappointment." "she will suffer as much, perhaps," said he, "as your horse did when your cow miscarried." i professed myself sincerely grieved when accumulated distresses crushed sir george colebrook's family; and i was so. "your own prosperity," said he, "may possibly have so far increased the natural tenderness of your heart, that for aught i know you _may_ be a _little sorry_; but it is sufficient for a plain man if he does not laugh when he sees a fine new house tumble down all on a sudden, and a snug cottage stand by ready to receive the owner, whose birth entitled him to nothing better, and whose limbs are left him to go to work again with." i tried to tell him in jest that his morality was easily contented, and when i have said something as if the wickedness of the world gave me concern, he would cry out aloud against canting, and protest that he thought there was very little gross wickedness in the world, and still less of extraordinary virtue. nothing, indeed, more surely disgusted dr. johnson than hyperbole; he loved not to be told of sallies of excellence, which he said were seldom valuable, and seldom true. "heroic virtues," said he, "are the bons mots of life; they do not appear often, and when they do appear are too much prized, i think, like the aloe-tree, which shoots and flowers once in a hundred years. but life is made up of little things; and that character is the best which does little but repeated acts of beneficence; as that conversation is the best which consists in elegant and pleasing thoughts expressed in natural and pleasing terms. with regard to my own notions of moral virtue," continued he, "i hope i have not lost my sensibility of wrong; but i hope, likewise, that i have lived long enough in the world to prevent me from expecting to find any action of which both the original motive and all the parts were good." the piety of dr. johnson was exemplary and edifying; he was punctiliously exact to perform every public duty enjoined by the church, and his spirit of devotion had an energy that affected all who ever saw him pray in private. the coldest and most languid hearer of the word must have felt themselves animated by his manner of reading the holy scriptures; and to pray by his sick-bed required strength of body as well as of mind, so vehement were his manners, and his tones of voice so pathetic. i have many times made it my request to heaven that i might be spared the sight of his death; and i was spared it. mr. johnson, though in general a gross feeder, kept fast in lent, particularly the holy week, with a rigour very dangerous to his general health; but though he had left off wine (for religious motives, as i always believed, though he did not own it), yet he did not hold the commutation of offences by voluntary penance, or encourage others to practise severity upon themselves. he even once said "that he thought it an error to endeavour at pleasing god by taking the rod of reproof out of his hands." and when we talked of convents, and the hardships suffered in them: "remember always," said he, "that a convent is an idle place, and where there is nothing to be _done_ something must be _endured_: mustard has a bad taste per se, you may observe, but very insipid food cannot be eaten without it." his respect, however, for places of religious retirement was carried to the greatest degree of earthly veneration; the benedictine convent at paris paid him all possible honours in return, and the prior and he parted with tears of tenderness. two of that college being sent to england on the mission some years after, spent much of their time with him at bolt court, i know, and he was ever earnest to retain their friendship; but though beloved by all his roman catholic acquaintance, particularly dr. nugent, for whose esteem he had a singular value, yet was mr. johnson a most unshaken church of england man; and i think, or at least i once _did_ think, that a letter written by him to mr. barnard, the king's librarian, when he was in italy collecting books, contained some very particular advice to his friend to be on his guard against the seductions of the church of rome. the settled aversion dr. johnson felt towards an infidel he expressed to all ranks, and at all times, without the smallest reserve; for though on common occasions he paid great deference to birth or title, yet his regard for truth and virtue never gave way to meaner considerations. we talked of a dead wit one evening, and somebody praised him. "let us never praise talents so ill employed, sir; we foul our mouths by commending such infidels," said he. "allow him the lumieres at least," entreated one of the company. "i do allow him, sir," replied johnson, "just enough to light him to hell." of a jamaica gentleman, then lately dead: "he will not, whither he is now gone," said johnson, "find much difference, i believe, either in the climate or the company." the abbe reynal probably remembers that, being at the house of a common friend in london, the master of it approached johnson with that gentleman so much celebrated in his hand, and this speech in his mouth: "will you permit me, sir, to present to you the abbe reynal?" "_no_, _sir_," replied the doctor very loud, and suddenly turned away from them both. though mr. johnson had but little reverence either for talents or fortune when he found them unsupported by virtue, yet it was sufficient to tell him a man was very pious, or very charitable, and he would at least _begin_ with him on good terms, however the conversation might end. he would sometimes, too, good-naturedly enter into a long chat for the instruction or entertainment of people he despised. i perfectly recollect his condescending to delight my daughter's dancing-master with a long argument about _his_ art, which the man protested, at the close of the discourse, the doctor knew more of than himself, who remained astonished, enlightened, and amused by the talk of a person little likely to make a good disquisition upon dancing. i have sometimes, indeed, been rather pleased than vexed when mr. johnson has given a rough answer to a man who perhaps deserved one only half as rough, because i knew he would repent of his hasty reproof, and make us all amends by some conversation at once instructive and entertaining, as in the following cases. a young fellow asked him abruptly one day, "pray, sir, what and where is palmyra? i heard somebody talk last night of the ruins of palmyra." "'tis a hill in ireland," replies johnson, "with palms growing on the top, and a bog at the bottom, and so they call it _palm-mira_." seeing, however, that the lad thought him serious, and thanked him for the information, he undeceived him very gently indeed: told him the history, geography, and chronology of tadmor in the wilderness, with every incident that literature could furnish, i think, or eloquence express, from the building of solomon's palace to the voyage of dawkins and wood. on another occasion, when he was musing over the fire in our drawing-room at streatham, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, and i suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words: "mr. johnson, would you advise me to marry?" "i would advise no man to marry, sir," returns for answer in a very angry tone dr. johnson, "who is not likely to propagate understanding," and so left the room. our companion looked confounded, and i believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence, except to rejoice in its consequences. he repented just as certainly, however, if he had been led to praise any person or thing by accident more than he thought it deserved; and was on such occasions comically earnest to destroy the praise or pleasure he had unintentionally given. sir joshua reynolds mentioned some picture as excellent. "it has often grieved me, sir," said mr. johnson, "to see so much mind as the science of painting requires laid out upon such perishable materials. why do not you oftener make use of copper? i could wish your superiority in the art you profess to be preserved in stuff more durable than canvas." sir joshua urged the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for historical subjects, and was going to raise further observations. "what foppish obstacles are these!" exclaims on a sudden dr. johnson. "here is thrale has a thousand tun of copper; you may paint it all round if you will, i suppose; it will serve him to brew in afterwards. will it not, sir?" (to my husband, who sat by). indeed, dr. johnson's utter scorn of painting was such that i have heard him say that he should sit very quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them if their backs were outermost, unless it might be for the sake of telling sir joshua that he _had_ turned them. such speeches may appear offensive to many, but those who knew he was too blind to discern the perfections of an art which applies itself immediately to our eyesight must acknowledge he was not in the wrong. he delighted no more in music than in painting; he was almost as deaf as he was blind; travelling with dr. johnson was for these reasons tiresome enough. mr. thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, that travelling through england and france affords a man. but when he wished to point them out to his companion: "never heed such nonsense," would be the reply; "a blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another. let us, if we _do_ talk, talk about something; men and women are my subjects of inquiry; let us see how these differ from those we have left behind." when we were at rouen together, he took a great fancy to the abbe roffette, with whom he conversed about the destruction of the order of jesuits, and condemned it loudly as a blow to the general power of the church, and likely to be followed with many and dangerous innovations, which might at length become fatal to religion itself, and shake even the foundation of christianity. the gentleman seemed to wonder and delight in his conversation. the talk was all in latin, which both spoke fluently, and mr. johnson pronounced a long eulogium upon milton with so much ardour, eloquence, and ingenuity, that the abbe rose from his seat and embraced him. my husband, seeing them apparently so charmed with the company of each other, politely invited the abbe to england, intending to oblige his friend, who, instead of thanking, reprimanded him severely before the man for such a sudden burst of tenderness towards a person he could know nothing at all of, and thus put a sudden finish to all his own and mr. thrale's entertainment from the company of the abbe roffette. when at versailles the people showed us the theatre. as we stood on the stage looking at some machinery for playhouse purposes: "now we are here, what shall we act, mr. johnson--the englishman at paris?" "no, no," replied he, "we will try to act harry the fifth." his dislike to the french was well known to both nations, i believe; but he applauded the number of their books and the graces of their style. "they have few sentiments," said he, "but they express them neatly; they have little meat, too, but they dress it well." johnson's own notions about eating, however, were nothing less than delicate: a leg of pork boiled till it dropped from the bone, a veal pie with plums and sugar, or the outside cut of a salt buttock of beef, were his favourite dainties. with regard to drink, his liking was for the strongest, as it was not the flavour, but the effect, he sought for, and professed to desire; and when i first knew him, he used to pour capillaire into his port wine. for the last twelve years, however, he left off all fermented liquors. to make himself some amends, indeed, he took his chocolate liberally, pouring in large quantities of cream, or even melted butter; and was so fond of fruit, that though he usually ate seven or eight large peaches of a morning before breakfast began, and treated them with proportionate attention after dinner again, yet i have heard him protest that he never had quite as much as he wished of wall-fruit, except once in his life, and that was when we were all together at ombersley, the seat of my lord sandys. i was saying to a friend one day, that i did not like goose; "one smells it so while it is roasting," said i. "but you, madam," replies the doctor, "have been at all times a fortunate woman, having always had your hunger so forestalled by indulgence, that you never experienced the delight of smelling your dinner beforehand." "which pleasure," answered i pertly, "is to be enjoyed in perfection by such as have the happiness to pass through porridge island of a morning." "come, come," says he, gravely, "let's have no sneering at what is serious to so many. hundreds of your fellow-creatures, dear lady, turn another way, that they may not be tempted by the luxuries of porridge island to wish for gratifications they are not able to obtain. you are certainly not better than all of _them_; give god thanks that you are happier." i received on another occasion as just a rebuke from mr. johnson, for an offence of the same nature, and hope i took care never to provoke a third; for after a very long summer, particularly hot and dry, i was wishing naturally but thoughtlessly for some rain to lay the dust as we drove along the surrey roads. "i cannot bear," replied he, with much asperity and an altered look, "when i know how many poor families will perish next winter for want of that bread which the present drought will deny them, to hear ladies sighing for rain, only that their complexions may not suffer from the heat, or their clothes be incommoded by the dust. for shame! leave off such foppish lamentations, and study to relieve those whose distresses are real." with advising others to be charitable, however, dr. johnson did not content himself. he gave away all he had, and all he ever had gotten, except the two thousand pounds he left behind; and the very small portion of his income which he spent on himself, with all our calculation, we never could make more than seventy, or at most four-score pounds a year, and he pretended to allow himself a hundred. he had numberless dependents out of doors as well as in, who, as he expressed it, "did not like to see him latterly unless he brought 'em money." for those people he used frequently to raise contributions on his richer friends; "and this," says he, "is one of the thousand reasons which ought to restrain a man from drony solitude and useless retirement. solitude," added he one day, "is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue: pleasures of some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the corporeal health; and those who resist gaiety will be likely for the most part to fall a sacrifice to appetite; for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and seducing relief. remember," concluded he, "that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad: the mind stagnates for want of employment, grows morbid, and is extinguished like a candle in foul air." it was on this principle that johnson encouraged parents to carry their daughters early and much into company: "for what harm can be done before so many witnesses? solitude is the surest nurse of all prurient passions, and a girl in the hurry of preparation, or tumult of gaiety, has neither inclination nor leisure to let tender expressions soften or sink into her heart. the ball, the show, are not the dangerous places: no, it is the private friend, the kind consoler, the companion of the easy, vacant hour, whose compliance with her opinions can flatter her vanity, and whose conversation can just soothe, without ever stretching her mind, that is the lover to be feared. he who buzzes in her ear at court or at the opera must be contented to buzz in vain." these notions dr. johnson carried so very far, that i have heard him say, "if you shut up any man with any woman, so as to make them derive their whole pleasure from each other, they would inevitably fall in love, as it is called, with each other; but at six months' end, if you would throw them both into public life, where they might change partners at pleasure, each would soon forget that fondness which mutual dependence and the paucity of general amusement alone had caused, and each would separately feel delighted by their release." in these opinions rousseau apparently concurs with him exactly; and mr. whitehead's poem, called "variety," is written solely to elucidate this simple proposition. prior likewise advises the husband to send his wife abroad, and let her see the world as it really stands:-- "powder, and pocket-glass, and beau." mr. johnson was indeed unjustly supposed to be a lover of singularity. few people had a more settled reverence for the world than he, or was less captivated by new modes of behaviour introduced, or innovations on the long-received customs of common life. he hated the way of leaving a company without taking notice to the lady of the house that he was going, and did not much like any of the contrivances by which ease had lately been introduced into society instead of ceremony, which had more of his approbation. cards, dress, and dancing, however, all found their advocate in dr. johnson, who inculcated, upon principle, the cultivation of those arts which many a moralist thinks himself bound to reject, and many a christian holds unfit to be practised. "no person," said he one day, "goes under-dressed till he thinks himself of consequence enough to forbear carrying the badge of his rank upon his back." and in answer to the arguments urged by puritans, quakers, etc., against showy decorations of the human figure, i once heard him exclaim, "oh, let us not be found, when our master calls us, ripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and tongues! let us all conform in outward customs, which are of no consequence, to the manners of those whom we live among, and despise such paltry distinctions. alas, sir!" continued he, "a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat, will not find his way thither sooner in a grey one." on an occasion of less consequence, when he turned his back on lord bolingbroke in the rooms at brighthelmstone, he made this excuse, "i am not obliged, sir," said he to mr. thrale, who stood fretting, "to find reasons for respecting the rank of him who will not condescend to declare it by his dress or some other visible mark. what are stars and other signs of superiority made for?" the next evening, however, he made us comical amends, by sitting by the same nobleman, and haranguing very loudly about the nature and use and abuse of divorces. many people gathered round them to hear what was said, and when my husband called him away, and told him to whom he had been talking, received an answer which i will not write down. though no man, perhaps, made such rough replies as dr. johnson, yet nobody had a more just aversion to general satire; he always hated and censured swift for his unprovoked bitterness against the professors of medicine, and used to challenge his friends, when they lamented the exorbitancy of physicians' fees, to produce him one instance of an estate raised by physic in england. when an acquaintance, too, was one day exclaiming against the tediousness of the law and its partiality: "let us hear, sir," said johnson, "no general abuse; the law is the last result of human wisdom acting upon human experience for the benefit of the public." as the mind of dr. johnson was greatly expanded, so his first care was for general, not particular or petty morality; and those teachers had more of his blame than praise, i think, who seek to oppress life with unnecessary scruples. "scruples would," as he observed, "certainly make men miserable, and seldom make them good. let us ever," he said, "studiously fly from those instructors against whom our saviour denounces heavy judgments, for having bound up burdens grievous to be borne, and laid them on the shoulders of mortal men." no one had, however, higher notions of the hard task of true christianity than johnson, whose daily terror lest he had not done enough, originated in piety, but ended in little less than disease. reasonable with regard to others, he had formed vain hopes of performing impossibilities himself; and finding his good works ever below his desires and intent, filled his imagination with fears that he should never obtain forgiveness for omissions of duty and criminal waste of time. these ideas kept him in constant anxiety concerning his salvation; and the vehement petitions he perpetually made for a longer continuance on earth, were doubtless the cause of his so prolonged existence: for when i carried dr. pepys to him in the year , it appeared wholly impossible for any skill of the physician or any strength of the patient to save him. he was saved that time, however, by sir lucas's prescriptions; and less skill on one side, or less strength on the other, i am morally certain, would not have been enough. he had, however, possessed an athletic constitution, as he said the man who dipped people in the sea at brighthelmstone acknowledged; for seeing mr. johnson swim, in the year , "why, sir," says the dipper, "you must have been a stout-hearted gentleman forty years ago." mr. thrale and he used to laugh about that story very often: but garrick told a better, for he said that in their young days, when some strolling players came to lichfield, our friend had fixed his place upon the stage, and got himself a chair accordingly; which leaving for a few minutes, he found a man in it at his return, who refused to give it back at the first entreaty. mr. johnson, however, who did not think it worth his while to make a second, took chair and man and all together, and threw them all at once into the pit. i asked the doctor if this was a fact. "garrick has not _spoiled_ it in the telling," said he, "it is very _near_ true, to be sure." mr. beauclerc, too, related one day how on some occasion he ordered two large mastiffs into his parlour, to show a friend who was conversant in canine beauty and excellence how the dogs quarrelled, and fastening on each other, alarmed all the company except johnson, who seizing one in one hand by the cuff of the neck, the other in the other hand, said gravely, "come, gentlemen! where's your difficulty? put one dog out at the door, and i will show this fierce gentleman the way out of the window:" which, lifting up the mastiff and the sash, he contrived to do very expeditiously, and much to the satisfaction of the affrighted company. we inquired as to the truth of this curious recital. "the dogs have been somewhat magnified, i believe, sir," was the reply: "they were, as i remember, two stout young pointers; but the story has gained but little." one reason why mr. johnson's memory was so particularly exact, might be derived from his rigid attention to veracity; being always resolved to relate every fact as it stood, he looked even on the smaller parts of life with minute attention, and remembered such passages as escape cursory and common observers. "a story," says he, "is a specimen of human manners, and derives its sole value from its truth. when foote has told me something, i dismiss it from my mind like a passing shadow: when reynolds tells me something, i consider myself as possessed of an idea the more." mr. johnson liked a frolic or a jest well enough, though he had strange serious rules about it too: and very angry was he if anybody offered to be merry when he was disposed to be grave. "you have an ill-founded notion," said he, "that it is clever to turn matters off with a joke (as the phrase is); whereas nothing produces enmity so certain as one persons showing a disposition to be merry when another is inclined to be either serious or displeased." one may gather from this how he felt when his irish friend grierson, hearing him enumerate the qualities necessary to the formation of a poet, began a comical parody upon his ornamented harangue in praise of a cook, concluding with this observation, that he who dressed a good dinner was a more excellent and a more useful member of society than he who wrote a good poem. "and in this opinion," said mr. johnson in reply, "all the dogs in the town will join you." of this mr. grierson i have heard him relate many droll stories, much to his advantage as a wit, together with some facts more difficult to be accounted for; as avarice never was reckoned among the vices of the laughing world. but johnson's various life, and spirit of vigilance to learn and treasure up every peculiarity of manner, sentiment, or general conduct, made his company, when he chose to relate anecdotes of people he had formerly known, exquisitely amusing and comical. it is indeed inconceivable what strange occurrences he had seen, and what surprising things he could tell when in a communicative humour. it is by no means my business to relate memoirs of his acquaintance; but it will serve to show the character of johnson himself, when i inform those who never knew him that no man told a story with so good a grace, or knew so well what would make an effect upon his auditors. when he raised contributions for some distressed author, or wit in want, he often made us all more than amends by diverting descriptions of the lives they were then passing in corners unseen by anybody but himself; and that odd old surgeon whom he kept in his house to tend the out-pensioners, and of whom he said most truly and sublimely that-- "in misery's darkest caverns known, his useful care was ever nigh, where hopeless anguish pours her groan, and lonely want retires to die." i have forgotten the year, but it could scarcely i think be later than or , that he was called abruptly from our house after dinner, and returning in about three hours, said he had been with an enraged author, whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the bailiffs beset him without; that he was drinking himself drunk with madeira to drown care, and fretting over a novel which, when finished, was to be his whole fortune; but he could not get it done for distraction, nor could he step out of doors to offer it to sale. mr. johnson therefore set away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, recommending the performance, and desiring some immediate relief; which when he brought back to the writer, he called the woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and pass their time in merriment. it was not till ten years after, i dare say, that something in dr. goldsmith's behaviour struck me with an idea that he was the very man, and then johnson confessed it was so; the novel was the charming "vicar of wakefield." there was a mr. boyce, too, who wrote some very elegant verses printed in the magazines of five-and-twenty years ago, of whose ingenuity and distress i have heard dr. johnson tell some curious anecdotes, particularly that when he was almost perishing with hunger, and some money was produced to purchase him a dinner, he got a piece of roast beef, but could not eat it without ketchup, and laid out the last half- guinea he possessed in truffles and mushrooms, eating them in bed, too, for want of clothes, or even a shirt to sit up in. another man, for whom he often begged, made as wild use of his friend's beneficence as these, spending in punch the solitary guinea which had been brought him one morning; when resolving to add another claimant to a share of the bowl, besides a woman who always lived with him, and a footman who used to carry out petitions for charity, he borrowed a chairman's watch, and pawning it for half-a-crown, paid a clergyman to marry him to a fellow-lodger in the wretched house they all inhabited, and got so drunk over the guinea bowl of punch the evening of his wedding- day, that having many years lost the use of one leg, he now contrived to fall from the top of the stairs to the bottom, and break his arm, in which condition his companions left him to call mr. johnson, who, relating the series of his tragi-comical distresses obtained from the literary club a seasonable relief. of that respectable society i have heard him speak in the highest terms, and with a magnificent panegyric on each member, when it consisted only of a dozen or fourteen friends; but as soon as the necessity of enlarging it brought in new faces, and took off from his confidence in the company, he grew less fond of the meeting, and loudly proclaimed his carelessness _who_ might be admitted, when it was become a mere dinner club. i _think_ the original names, when i first heard him talk with fervour of every member's peculiar powers of instructing or delighting mankind, were sir john hawkins, mr. burke, mr. langton, mr. beauclerc, dr. percy, dr. nugent, dr. goldsmith, sir robert chambers, mr. dyer, and sir joshua reynolds, whom he called their romulus, or said somebody else of the company called him so, which was more likely: but this was, i believe, in the year or . it was a supper meeting then, and i fancy dr. nugent ordered an omelet sometimes on a friday or saturday night; for i remember mr. johnson felt very painful sensations at the sight of that dish soon after his death, and cried, "ah, my poor dear friend! i shall never eat omelet with _thee_ again!" quite in an agony. the truth is, nobody suffered more from pungent sorrow at a friend's death than johnson, though he would suffer no one else to complain of their losses in the same way; "for," says he, "we must either outlive our friends, you know, or our friends must outlive us; and i see no man that would hesitate about the choice." mr. johnson loved late hours extremely, or more properly hated early ones. nothing was more terrifying to him than the idea of retiring to bed, which he never would call going to rest, or suffer another to call so. "i lie down," said he, "that my acquaintance may sleep; but i lie down to endure oppressive misery, and soon rise again to pass the night in anxiety and pain." by this pathetic manner, which no one ever possessed in so eminent a degree, he used to shock me from quitting his company, till i hurt my own health not a little by sitting up with him when i was myself far from well; nor was it an easy matter to oblige him even by compliance, for he always maintained that no one forbore their own gratifications for the sake of pleasing another, and if one _did_ sit up it was probably to amuse oneself. some right, however, he certainly had to say so, as he made his company exceedingly entertaining when he had once forced one, by his vehement lamentations and piercing reproofs, not to quit the room, but to sit quietly and make tea for him, as i often did in london till four o'clock in the morning. at streatham, indeed, i managed better, having always some friend who was kind enough to engage him in talk, and favour my retreat. the first time i ever saw this extraordinary man was in the year , when mr. murphy, who had been long the friend and confidential intimate of mr. thrale, persuaded him to wish for johnson's conversation, extolling it in terms which that of no other person could have deserved, till we were only in doubt how to obtain his company, and find an excuse for the invitation. the celebrity of mr. woodhouse, a shoemaker, whose verses were at that time the subject of common discourse, soon afforded a pretence, and mr. murphy brought johnson to meet him, giving me general cautions not to be surprised at his figure, dress, or behaviour. what i recollect best of the day's talk was his earnestly recommending addison's works to mr. woodhouse as a model for imitation. "give nights and days, sir," said he, "to the study of addison, if you mean either to be a good writer, or what is more worth, an honest man." when i saw something like the same expression in his criticism on that author, lately published, i put him in mind of his past injunctions to the young poet, to which he replied, "that he wished the shoemaker might have remembered them as well." mr. johnson liked his new acquaintance so much, however, that, from that time he dined with us every thursday through the winter, and in the autumn of the next year he followed us to brighthelmstone, whence we were gone before his arrival; so he was disappointed and enraged, and wrote us a letter expressive of anger, which we were very desirous to pacify, and to obtain his company again, if possible. mr. murphy brought him back to us again very kindly, and from that time his visits grew more frequent, till in the year his health, which he had always complained of, grew so exceedingly bad, that he could not stir out of his room in the court he inhabited for many _weeks_ together--i think _months_. mr. thrale's attentions and my own now became so acceptable to him, that he often lamented to us the horrible condition of his mind, which he said was nearly distracted; and though he charged _us_ to make him odd solemn promises of secrecy on so strange a subject, yet when we waited on him one morning, and heard him, in the most pathetic terms, beg the prayers of dr. delap, who had left him as we came in, i felt excessively affected with grief, and well remember my husband involuntarily lifted up one hand to shut his mouth, from provocation at hearing a man so wildly proclaim what he could at last persuade no one to believe, and what, if true, would have been so very unfit to reveal. mr. thrale went away soon after, leaving me with him, and bidding me prevail on him to quit his close habitation in the court and come with us to streatham, where i undertook the care of his health, and had the honour and happiness of contributing to its restoration. this task, though distressing enough sometimes, would have been less so had not my mother and he disliked one another extremely, and teased me often with perverse opposition, petty contentions, and mutual complaints. her superfluous attention to such accounts of the foreign politics as are transmitted to us by the daily prints, and her willingness to talk on subjects he could not endure, began the aversion; and when, by the peculiarity of his style, she found out that he teased her by writing in the newspapers concerning battles and plots which had no existence, only to feed her with new accounts of the division of poland, perhaps, or the disputes between the states of russia and turkey, she was exceedingly angry, to be sure, and scarcely, i think, forgave the offence till the domestic distresses of the year reconciled them to and taught them the true value of each other, excellent as _they both_ were, far beyond the excellence of any other man and woman i ever yet saw. as her conduct, too, extorted his truest esteem, her cruel illness excited all his tenderness, nor was the sight of beauty, scarce to be subdued by disease, and wit, flashing through the apprehension of evil, a scene which dr. johnson could see without sensibility. he acknowledged himself improved by her piety, and astonished at her fortitude, and hung over her bed with the affection of a parent, and the reverence of a son. nor did it give me less pleasure to see her sweet mind cleared of all its latent prejudices, and left at liberty to admire and applaud that force of thought and versatility of genius, that comprehensive soul and benevolent heart, which attracted and commanded veneration from all, but inspired peculiar sensations of delight mixed with reverence in those who, like her, had the opportunity to observe these qualities stimulated by gratitude, and actuated by friendship. when mr. thrale's perplexities disturbed his peace, dear dr. johnson left him scarce a moment, and tried every artifice to amuse as well as every argument to console him: nor is it more possible to describe than to forget his prudent, his pious attentions towards the man who had some years before certainly saved his valuable life, perhaps his reason, by half obliging him to change the foul air of fleet street for the wholesome breezes of the sussex downs. the epitaph engraved on my mother's monument shows how deserving she was of general applause. i asked johnson why he named her person before her mind. he said it was "because everybody could judge of the one, and but few of the other." _juxta sepulta est_ hestera maria _thomae cotton de combermere baronetti cestriensis filia_, _johannis salusbury armigeri flintiensis uxor_. _forma felix, felix ingenio_: _omnibus jucunda_, _suorum amantissima_. _linguis artibusque ita exculta_ _ut loquenti nunquam deessent_ _sermonis nitor_, _sententiarum flosculi_, _sapientiae gravitas_, _leporum gratia_: _modum servandi adeo perita_, _ut domestica inter negotia literis oblectaretur_. _literarum inter delicias_, _rem familiarem sedulo curaret_, _multis illi multos annos precantibus_ _diri carcinomatis veneno contabuit_, _nexibusque vitae paulatim resolutis_, _e terris_--_meliora sperans_--_emigravit_. _nata_ . _nupta_ . _obiit_ . mr. murphy, who admired her talents and delighted in her company, did me the favour to paraphrase this elegant inscription in verses which i fancy have never yet been published. his fame has long been out of my power to increase as a poet: as a man of sensibility perhaps these lines may set him higher than he now stands. i remember with gratitude the friendly tears which prevented him from speaking as he put them into my hand. near this place are deposited the remains of hester maria, the daughter of sir thomas cotton of combermere, in the county of cheshire, bart., the wife of john salusbury, of the county of flint, esquire. she was born in the year , married in , and died in . a pleasing form, where every grace combined, with genius blest, a pure enlightened mind; benevolence on all that smiles bestowed, a heart that for her friends with love o'erflowed: in language skilled, by science formed to please, her mirth was wit, her gravity was ease. graceful in all, the happy mien she knew, which even to virtue gives the limits due; whate'er employed her, that she seemed to choose, her house, her friends, her business, or the muse. admired and loved, the theme of general praise, all to such virtue wished a length of days. but sad reverse! with slow-consuming pains, th' envenomed cancer revelled in her veins; preyed on her spirits--stole each power away; gradual she sank, yet smiling in decay; she smiled in hope, by sore affliction tried, and in that hope the pious christian died. the following epitaph on mr. thrale, who has now a monument close by hers in streatham church, i have seen printed and commended in maty's review for april, ; and a friend has favoured me with the translation:-- hic conditur quod reliquum est henrici thrale, qui res seu civiles, seu domesticas, ita egit, ut vitam illi longiorem multi optarent; ita sacras, ut quam brevem esset habiturus praescire videretur. simplex, apertus, sibique semper similis, nihil ostentavit aut arte fictum aut cura elaboratum. in senatu, regi patriaeque fideliter studuit; vulgi obstrepentis contemptor animosus, domi inter mille mercaturae negotia literarum elegantiam minime neglexit. amicis quocunque modo laborantibus, conciliis, auctoritate, muneribus adfuit. inter familiares, comites, convivas, hospites, tam facili fuit morum suavitate ut omnium animos ad se alliceret; tam felici sermonis libertate ut nulli adulatus, omnibus placeret. natus . ob. . consortes tumuli habet rodolphum patrem, strenuum fortemque virum, et henricum filium unicum, quem spei parentum mors inopina decennem praeripuit. ita domus felix et opulenta, quam erexit avus, auxitque pater, cum nepote decidit. abi viator! et vicibus rerum humanarum perspectis, aeternitatem cogita! here are deposited the remains of henry thrale, who managed all his concerns in the present world, public and private, in such a manner as to leave many wishing he had continued longer in it; and all that related to a future world, as if he had been sensible how short a time he was to continue in this. simple, open, and uniform in his manners, his conduct was without either art or affectation. in the senate steadily attentive to the true interests of his king and country, he looked down with contempt on the clamours of the multitude: though engaged in a very extensive business, he found some time to apply to polite literature and was ever ready to assist his friends labouring under any difficulties, with his advice, his influence, and his purse. to his friends, acquaintance, and guests, he behaved with such sweetness of manners as to attach them all to his person: so happy in his conversation with them, as to please all, though he flattered none. he was born in the year , and died in . in the same tomb lie interred his father, ralph thrale, a man of vigour and activity, and his only son henry, who died before his father, aged ten years. thus a happy and opulent family, raised by the grandfather, and augmented by the father, became extinguished with the grandson. go, reader! and reflecting on the vicissitudes of all human affairs, meditate on eternity. i never recollect to have heard that dr. johnson wrote inscriptions for any sepulchral stones except dr. goldsmith's, in westminster abbey, and these two in streatham church. he made four lines once on the death of poor hogarth, which were equally true and pleasing. i know not why garrick's were preferred to them. "the hand of him here torpid lies, that drew th' essential form of grace; here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes, that saw the manners in the face." mr. hogarth, among the variety of kindnesses shown to me when i was too young to have a proper sense of them, was used to be very earnest that i should obtain the acquaintance, and if possible the friendship, of dr. johnson, whose conversation was, to the talk of other men, "like titian's painting compared to hudson's," he said: "but don't you tell people, now, that i say so," continued he, "for the connoisseurs and i are at war, you know; and because i hate _them_, they think i hate _titian_--and let them!" many were indeed the lectures i used to have in my very early days from dear mr. hogarth, whose regard for my father induced him, perhaps, to take notice of his little girl, and give her some odd particular directions about dress, dancing, and many other matters, interesting now only because they were his. as he made all his talents, however, subservient to the great purposes of morality, and the earnest desire he had to mend mankind, his discourse commonly ended in an ethical dissertation, and a serious charge to me, never to forget his picture of the "lady's last stake." of dr. johnson, when my father and he were talking together about him one day, "that man," says hogarth, "is not contented with believing the bible, but he fairly resolves, i think, to believe nothing _but_ the bible. johnson," added he, "though so wise a fellow, is more like king david than king solomon; for he says in his haste that 'all men are liars.'" this charge, as i afterwards came to know, was but too well founded. mr. johnson's incredulity amounted almost to disease, and i have seen it mortify his companions exceedingly. but the truth is, mr. thrale had a very powerful influence over the doctor, and could make him suppress many rough answers. he could likewise prevail on him to change his shirt, his coat, or his plate, almost before it came indispensably necessary to the comfort of his friends. but as i never had any ascendency at all over mr. johnson, except just in the things that concerned his health, it grew extremely perplexing and difficult to live in the house with him when the master of it was no more; the worse, indeed, because his dislikes grew capricious; and he could scarce bear to have anybody come to the house whom it was absolutely necessary for me to see. two gentlemen, i perfectly well remember, dining with us at streatham in the summer, , when elliot's brave defence of gibraltar was a subject of common discourse, one of these men naturally enough began some talk about red-hot balls thrown with surprising dexterity and effect, which dr. johnson having listened some time to, "i would advise you, sir," said he, with a cold sneer, "never to relate this story again; you really can scarce imagine how _very poor_ a figure you make in the telling of it." our guest being bred a quaker, and, i believe, a man of an extremely gentle disposition, needed no more reproofs for the same folly; so if he ever did speak again, it was in a low voice to the friend who came with him. the check was given before dinner, and after coffee i left the room. when in the evening, however, our companions were returned to london, and mr. johnson and myself were left alone, with only our usual family about us, "i did not quarrel with those quaker fellows," said he, very seriously. "you did perfectly right," replied i, "for they gave you no cause of offence." "no offence!" returned he, with an altered voice; "and is it nothing, then, to sit whispering together when _i_ am present, without ever directing their discourse towards me, or offering me a share in the conversation?" "that was because you frighted him who spoke first about those hot balls." "why, madam, if a creature is neither capable of giving dignity to falsehood, nor willing to remain contented with the truth, he deserves no better treatment." mr. johnson's fixed incredulity of everything he heard, and his little care to conceal that incredulity, was teasing enough, to be sure; and i saw mr. sharp was pained exceedingly when relating the history of a hurricane that happened about that time in the west indies, where, for aught i know, he had himself lost some friends too, he observed dr. johnson believed not a syllable of the account. "for 'tis _so_ easy," says he, "for a man to fill his mouth with a wonder, and run about telling the lie before it can be detected, that i have no heart to believe hurricanes easily raised by the first inventor, and blown forwards by thousands more." i asked him once if he believed the story of the destruction of lisbon by an earthquake when it first happened. "oh! not for six months," said he, "at least. i _did_ think that story too dreadful to be credited, and can hardly yet persuade myself that it was true to the full extent we all of us have heard." among the numberless people, however, whom i heard him grossly and flatly contradict, i never yet saw any one who did not take it patiently excepting dr. burney, from whose habitual softness of manners i little expected such an exertion of spirit; the event was as little to be expected. mr. johnson asked his pardon generously and genteelly, and when he left the room, rose up to shake hands with him, that they might part in peace. on another occasion, when he had violently provoked mr. pepys, in a different but perhaps not a less offensive manner, till something much too like a quarrel was grown up between them, the moment he was gone, "now," says dr. johnson, "is pepys gone home hating me, who love him better than i did before. he spoke in defence of his dead friend; but though i hope _i_ spoke better who spoke against him, yet all my eloquence will gain me nothing but an honest man for my enemy!" he did not, however, cordially love mr. pepys, though he respected his abilities. "i know the dog was a scholar," said he when they had been disputing about the classics for three hours together one morning at streatham, "but that he had so much taste and so much knowledge i did _not_ believe. i might have taken barnard's word though, for barnard would not lie." we had got a little french print among us at brighthelmstone, in november, , of some people skating, with these lines written under:-- "sur un mince chrystal l'hyver conduit leurs pas, le precipice est sous la glace; telle est de nos plaisirs la legere surface, glissez mortels; n'appayez pas." and i begged translation from everybody. dr. johnson gave me this:-- "o'er ice the rapid skater flies, with sport above and death below; where mischief lurks in gay disguise, thus lightly touch and quickly go." he was, however, most exceedingly enraged when he knew that in the course of the season i had asked half-a-dozen acquaintance to do the same thing; and said, "it was a piece of treachery, and done to make everybody else look little when compared to my favourite friends the _pepyses_, whose translations were unquestionably the best." i will insert them, because he _did_ say so. this is the distich given me by sir lucas, to whom i owe more solid obligations, no less than the power of thanking him for the life he saved, and whose least valuable praise is the correctness of his taste:-- "o'er the ice as o'er pleasure you lightly should glide, both have gulfs which their flattering surfaces hide." this other more serious one was written by his brother:-- "swift o'er the level how the skaters slide, and skim the glitt'ring surface as they go: thus o'er life's specious pleasures lightly glide, but pause not, press not on the gulf below." dr. johnson seeing this last, and thinking a moment, repeated:-- "o'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound, with nimble glide the skaters play; o'er treacherous pleasure's flow'ry ground thus lightly skim, and haste away." though thus uncommonly ready both to give and take offence, mr. johnson had many rigid maxims concerning the necessity of continued softness and compliance of disposition: and when i once mentioned shenstone's idea that some little quarrel among lovers, relations, and friends was useful, and contributed to their general happiness upon the whole, by making the soul feel her elastic force, and return to the beloved object with renewed delight: "why, what a pernicious maxim is this now," cries johnson, "_all_ quarrels ought to be avoided studiously, particularly conjugal ones, as no one can possibly tell where they may end; besides that lasting dislike is often the consequence of occasional disgust, and that the cup of life is surely bitter enough without squeezing in the hateful rind of resentment." it was upon something like the same principle, and from his general hatred of refinement, that when i told him how dr. collier, in order to keep the servants in humour with his favourite dog, by seeming rough with the animal himself on many occasions, and crying out, "why will nobody knock this cur's brains out?" meant to conciliate their tenderness towards pompey; he returned me for answer, "that the maxim was evidently false, and founded on ignorance of human life: that the servants would kick the dog sooner for having obtained such a sanction to their severity. and i once," added he, "chid my wife for beating the cat before the maid, who will now," said i, "treat puss with cruelty, perhaps, and plead her mistress's example." i asked him upon this if he ever disputed with his wife? (i had heard that he loved her passionately.) "perpetually," said he: "my wife had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber. 'a clean floor is _so_ comfortable,' she would say sometimes, by way of twitting; till at last i told her that i thought we had had talk enough about the _floor_, we would now have a touch at the _ceiling_." on another occasion i have heard him blame her for a fault many people have, of setting the miseries of their neighbours half unintentionally, half wantonly before their eyes, showing them the bad side of their profession, situation, etc. he said, "she would lament the dependence of pupilage to a young heir, etc., and once told a waterman who rowed her along the thames in a wherry, that he was no happier than a galley-slave, one being chained to the oar by authority, the other by want. i had, however," said he, laughing, "the wit to get her daughter on my side always before we began the dispute. she read comedy better than anybody he ever heard," he said; "in tragedy she mouthed too much." garrick told mr. thrale, however, that she was a little painted puppet, of no value at all, and quite disguised with affectation, full of odd airs of rural elegance; and he made out some comical scenes, by mimicking her in a dialogue he pretended to have overheard. i do not know whether he meant such stuff to be believed or no, it was so comical; nor did i indeed ever see him represent her ridiculously, though my husband did. the intelligence i gained of her from old levett was only perpetual illness and perpetual opium. the picture i found of her at lichfield was very pretty, and her daughter, mrs. lucy porter, said it was like. mr. johnson has told me that her hair was eminently beautiful, quite blonde, like that of a baby; but that she fretted about the colour, and was always desirous to dye it black, which he very judiciously hindered her from doing. his account of their wedding we used to think ludicrous enough. "i was riding to church," says johnson, "and she following on another single horse. she hung back, however, and i turned about to see whether she could get her steed along, or what was the matter. i had, however, soon occasion to see it was only coquetry, and _that i despised_, so quickening my pace a little, she mended hers; but i believe there was a tear or two--pretty dear creature!" johnson loved his dinner exceedingly, and has often said in my hearing, perhaps for my edification, "that wherever the dinner is ill got there is poverty or there is avarice, or there is stupidity; in short, the family is somehow grossly wrong: for," continued he, "a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner, and if he cannot get that well dressed, he should be suspected of inaccuracy in other things." one day, when he was speaking upon the subject, i asked him if he ever huffed his wife about his dinner? "so often," replied he, "that at last she called to me, and said, 'nay, hold, mr. johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking god for a dinner which in a few minutes you will protest not eatable.'" when any disputes arose between our married acquaintance, however, mr. johnson always sided with the husband, "whom," he said, "the woman had probably provoked so often, she scarce knew when or how she had disobliged him first. women," says dr. johnson, "give great offence by a contemptuous spirit of non-compliance on petty occasions. the man calls his wife to walk with him in the shade, and she feels a strange desire just at that moment to sit in the sun: he offers to read her a play, or sing her a song, and she calls the children in to disturb them, or advises him to seize that opportunity of settling the family accounts. twenty such tricks will the faithfullest wife in the world not refuse to play, and then look astonished when the fellow fetches in a mistress. boarding-schools were established," continued he, "for the conjugal quiet of the parents. the two partners cannot agree which child to fondle, nor how to fondle them, so they put the young ones to school, and remove the cause of contention. the little girl pokes her head, the mother reproves her sharply. 'do not mind your mamma,' says the father, 'my dear, but do your own way.' the mother complains to me of this. 'madam,' said i, 'your husband is right all the while; he is with you but two hours of the day, perhaps, and then you tease him by making the child cry. are not ten hours enough for tuition? and are the hours of pleasure so frequent in life, that when a man gets a couple of quiet ones to spend in familiar chat with his wife, they must be poisoned by petty mortifications? put missy to school; she will learn to hold her head like her neighbours, and you will no longer torment your family for want of other talk.'". the vacuity of life had at some early period of his life struck so forcibly on the mind of mr. johnson, that it became by repeated impression his favourite hypothesis, and the general tenor of his reasonings commonly ended there, wherever they might begin. such things, therefore, as other philosophers often attribute to various and contradictory causes, appeared to him uniform enough; all was done to fill up the time, upon his principle. i used to tell him that it was like the clown's answer in as you like it, of "oh, lord, sir!" for that it suited every occasion. one man, for example, was profligate and wild, as we call it, followed the girls, or sat still at the gaming-table. "why, life must be filled up," says johnson, "and the man who is not capable of intellectual pleasures must content himself with such as his senses can afford." another was a hoarder. "why, a fellow must do something; and what, so easy to a narrow mind as hoarding halfpence till they turn into sixpences." avarice was a vice against which, however, i never much heard mr. johnson declaim, till one represented it to him connected with cruelty, or some such disgraceful companion. "do not," said he, "discourage your children from hoarding if they have a taste to it: whoever lays up his penny rather than part with it for a cake, at least is not the slave of gross appetite, and shows besides a preference always to be esteemed, of the future to the present moment. such a mind may be made a good one; but the natural spendthrift, who grasps his pleasures greedily and coarsely, and cares for nothing but immediate indulgence, is very little to be valued above a negro." we talked of lady tavistock, who grieved herself to death for the loss of her husband--"she was rich, and wanted employment," says johnson, "so she cried till she lost all power of restraining her tears: other women are forced to outlive their husbands, who were just as much beloved, depend on it; but they have no time for grief: and i doubt not, if we had put my lady tavistock into a small chandler's shop, and given her a nurse-child to tend, her life would have been saved. the poor and the busy have no leisure for sentimental sorrow." we were speaking of a gentleman who loved his friend--"make him prime minister," says johnson, "and see how long his friend will be remembered." but he had a rougher answer for me, when i commended a sermon preached by an intimate acquaintance of our own at the trading end of the town. "what was the subject, madam?" says dr. johnson. "friendship, sir," replied i. "why, now, is it not strange that a wise man, like our dear little evans, should take it in his head to preach on such a subject, in a place where no one can be thinking of it?" "why, what are they thinking upon, sir?" said i. "why, the men are thinking on their money, i suppose, and the women are thinking of their mops." dr. johnson's knowledge and esteem of what we call low or coarse life was indeed prodigious; and he did not like that the upper ranks should be dignified with the name of _the world_. sir joshua reynolds said one day that nobody _wore_ laced coats now; and that once everybody wore them. "see, now," says johnson, "how absurd that is; as if the bulk of mankind consisted of fine gentlemen that came to him to sit for their pictures. if every man who wears a laced coat (that he can pay for) was extirpated, who would miss them?" with all this haughty contempt of gentility, no praise was more welcome to dr. johnson than that which said he had the notions or manners of a gentleman: which character i have heard him define with accuracy, and describe with elegance. "officers," he said, "were falsely supposed to have the carriage of gentlemen; whereas no profession left a stronger brand behind it than that of a soldier; and it was the essence of a gentleman's character to bear the visible mark of no profession whatever." he once named mr. berenger as the standard of true elegance; but some one objecting that he too much resembled the gentleman in congreve's comedies, mr. johnson said, "we must fix them upon the famous thomas hervey, whose manners were polished even to acuteness and brilliancy, though he lost but little in solid power of reasoning, and in genuine force of mind." mr. johnson had, however, an avowed and scarcely limited partiality for all who bore the name or boasted the alliance of an aston or a hervey; and when mr. thrale once asked him which had been the happiest period of his past life? he replied, "it was that year in which he spent one whole evening with m---y as--n. that, indeed," said he, "was not happiness, it was rapture; but the thoughts of it sweetened the whole year." i must add that the evening alluded to was not passed tete-a-tete, but in a select company, of which the present lord killmorey was one. "molly," says dr. johnson, "was a beauty and a scholar, and a wit and a whig; and she talked all in praise of liberty: and so i made this epigram upon her. she was the loveliest creature i ever saw!!! "'liber ut esse velim, suasisti pulchra maria, ut maneam liber--pulchra maria, vale!'" "will it do this way in english, sir?" said i. "persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you; if freedom we seek--fair maria, adieu!" "it will do well enough," replied he, "but it is translated by a lady, and the ladies never loved m---y as--n." i asked him what his wife thought of this attachment? "she was jealous, to be sure," said he, "and teased me sometimes when i would let her; and one day, as a fortune-telling gipsy passed us when we were walking out in company with two or three friends in the country, she made the wench look at my hand, but soon repented her curiosity; 'for,' says the gipsy, 'your heart is divided, sir, between a betty and a molly: betty loves you best, but you take most delight in molly's company.' when i turned about to laugh, i saw my wife was crying. pretty charmer! she had no reason!" it was, i believe, long after the currents of life had driven him to a great distance from this lady, that he spent much of his time with mrs. f- tzh--b--t, of whom he always spoke with esteem and tenderness, and with a veneration very difficult to deserve. "that woman," said he, "loved her husband as we hope and desire to be loved by our guardian angel. f-tzh-- b--t was a gay, good-humoured fellow, generous of his money and of his meat, and desirous of nothing but cheerful society among people distinguished in _some_ way, in _any way_, i think; for rousseau and st. austin would have been equally welcome to his table and to his kindness. the lady, however, was of another way of thinking: her first care was to preserve her husband's soul from corruption; her second, to keep his estate entire for their children: and i owed my good reception in the family to the idea she had entertained, that i was fit company for f-tzh-- b--t, whom i loved extremely. 'they dare not,' said she, 'swear, and take other conversation-liberties before _you_.'" i asked if her husband returned her regard? "he felt her influence too powerfully," replied mr. johnson; "no man will be fond of what forces him daily to feel himself inferior. she stood at the door of her paradise in derbyshire, like the angel with a flaming sword, to keep the devil at a distance. but she was not immortal, poor dear! she died, and her husband felt at once afflicted and released." i inquired if she was handsome? "she would have been handsome for a queen," replied the panegyrist; "her beauty had more in it of majesty than of attraction, more of the dignity of virtue than the vivacity of wit." the friend of this lady, miss b--thby, succeeded her in the management of mr. f-tzh--b--t's family, and in the esteem of dr. johnson, though he told me she pushed her piety to bigotry, her devotion to enthusiasm, that she somewhat disqualified herself for the duties of _this_ life, by her perpetual aspirations after the _next_. such was, however, the purity of her mind, he said, and such the graces of her manner, that lord lyttelton and he used to strive for her preference with an emulation that occasioned hourly disgust, and ended in lasting animosity. "you may see," said he to me, when the "poets' lives" were printed, "that dear b--thby is at my heart still. she _would_ delight in that fellow lyttelton's company though, all that i could do; and i cannot forgive even his memory the preference given by a mind like hers." i have heard baretti say that when this lady died, dr. johnson was almost distracted with his grief, and that the friends about him had much ado to calm the violence of his emotion. dr. taylor, too, related once to mr. thrale and me, that when he lost his wife, the negro francis ran away, though in the middle of the night, to westminster, to fetch dr. taylor to his master, who was all but wild with excess of sorrow, and scarce knew him when he arrived. after some minutes, however, the doctor proposed their going to prayers, as the only rational method of calming the disorder this misfortune had occasioned in both their spirits. time, and resignation to the will of god, cured every breach in his heart before i made acquaintance with him, though he always persisted in saying he never rightly recovered the loss of his wife. it is in allusion to her that he records the observation of a female critic, as he calls her, in gay's "life;" and the lady of great beauty and elegance, mentioned in the criticisms upon pope's epitaphs, was miss molly aston. the person spoken of in his strictures upon young's poetry is the writer of these anecdotes, to whom he likewise addressed the following verses when he was in the isle of skye with mr. boswell. the letters written in his journey, i used to tell him, were better than the printed book; and he was not displeased at my having taken the pains to copy them all over. here is the latin ode:-- "permeo terras, ubi nuda rupes saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas, torva ubi rident steriles coloni rura labores. "pervagor gentes, hominum ferorum vita ubi nullo decorata cultu, squallet informis, tigurique fumis faeda latescit. "inter erroris salebrosa longi, inter ignotae strepitus loquelae, quot modis mecum, quid agat requiro thralia dulcis? "seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet, seu fovet mater sobolem benigna, sive cum libris novitate pascit sedula mentem: "sit memor nostri, fideique merces, stet fides constans, meritoque blandum thraliae discant resonare nomen littora skiae." on another occasion i can boast verses from dr. johnson. as i went into his room the morning of my birthday once, and said to him, "nobody sends me any verses now, because i am five-and-thirty years old, and stella was fed with them till forty-six, i remember." my being just recovered from illness and confinement will account for the manner in which he burst out, suddenly, for so he did without the least previous hesitation whatsoever, and without having entertained the smallest intention towards it half a minute before: "oft in danger, yet alive, we are come to thirty-five; long may better years arrive, better years than thirty-five. could philosophers contrive life to stop at thirty-five, time his hours should never drive o'er the bounds of thirty-five. high to soar, and deep to dive, nature gives at thirty-five. ladies, stock and tend your hive, trifle not at thirty-five: for howe'er we boast and strive, life declines from thirty-five. he that ever hopes to thrive must begin by thirty-five; and all who wisely wish to wive must look on thrale at thirty-five." "and now," said he, as i was writing them down, "you may see what it is to come for poetry to a dictionary-maker; you may observe that the rhymes run in alphabetical order exactly." and so they do. mr. johnson did indeed possess an almost tuscan power of improvisation. when he called to my daughter, who was consulting with a friend about a new gown and dressed hat she thought of wearing to an assembly, thus suddenly, while she hoped he was not listening to their conversation-- "wear the gown and wear the hat, snatch thy pleasures while they last; hadst thou nine lives like a cat, soon those nine lives would be past." it is impossible to deny to such little sallies the power of the florentines, who do not permit their verses to be ever written down, though they often deserve it, because, as they express it, cosi se perde- rebbe la poca gloria. as for translations, we used to make him sometimes run off with one or two in a good humour. he was praising this song of metastasio:-- "deh, se piacermi vuoi, lascia i sospetti tuoi, non mi turbar conquesto molesto dubitar: chi ciecamente crede, impegna a serbar fede: chi sempre inganno aspetta, alletta ad ingannar." "should you like it in english," said he, "thus?" "would you hope to gain my heart, bid your teasing doubts depart; he who blindly trusts, will find faith from every generous mind: he who still expects deceit, only teaches how to cheat." mr. baretti coaxed him likewise one day at streatham out of a translation of emirena's speech to the false courtier aquileius, and it is probably printed before now, as i think two or three people took copies; but perhaps it has slipped their memories. "ah! tu in corte invecchiasti, e giurerei che fra i pochi non sei tenace ancora dell' antica onesta: quando bisogna, saprai sereno in volto vezzeggiare un nemico: accio vi cada, aprirgli innanzi un precipizio, e poi piangerne la caduta. offrirti a tutti e non esser che tuo; di false lodi vestir le accuse, ed aggravar le colpe nel farne la difesa, ognor dal trono i buoni allontanar; d'ogni castigo lasciar vodio allo seettro, c d'ogni dono il merito usurpar: tener nascosto sotto un zelo apparente un empio fine, ne fabbricar che sulle altrui rouine." "grown old in courts, thou art not surely one who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour; well skilled to soothe a foe with looks of kindness, to sink the fatal precipice before him, and then lament his fall with seeming friendship: open to all, true only to thyself, thou know'st those arts which blast with envious praise, which aggravate a fault with feigned excuses, and drive discountenanced virtue from the throne; that leave blame of rigour to the prince, and of his every gift usurp the merit; that hide in seeming zeal a wicked purpose, and only build upon another's ruin." these characters dr. johnson, however, did not delight in reading, or in hearing of: he always maintained that the world was not half so wicked as it was represented; and he might very well continue in that opinion, as he resolutely drove from him every story that could make him change it; and when mr. bickerstaff's flight confirmed the report of his guilt, and my husband said, in answer to johnson's astonishment, that he had long been a suspected man: "by those who look close to the ground, dirt will be seen, sir," was the lofty reply. "i hope i see things from a greater distance." his desire to go abroad, particularly to see italy, was very great; and he had a longing wish, too, to leave some latin verses at the grand chartreux. he loved, indeed, the very act of travelling, and i cannot tell how far one might have taken him in a carriage before he would have wished for refreshment. he was therefore in some respects an admirable companion on the road, as he piqued himself upon feeling no inconvenience, and on despising no accommodations. on the other hand, however, he expected no one else to feel any, and felt exceedingly inflamed with anger if any one complained of the rain, the sun, or the dust. "how," said he, "do other people bear them?" as for general uneasiness, or complaints of lone confinement in a carriage, he considered all lamentations on their account as proofs of an empty head, and a tongue desirous to talk without materials of conversation. "a mill that goes without grist," said he, "is as good a companion as such creatures." i pitied a friend before him, who had a whining wife that found everything painful to her, and nothing pleasing. "he does not know that she whimpers," says johnson; "when a door has creaked for a fortnight together, you may observe--the master will scarcely give sixpence to get it oiled." of another lady, more insipid than offensive, i once heard him say, "she has some softness indeed, but so has a pillow." and when one observed, in reply, that her husband's fidelity and attachment were exemplary, notwithstanding this low account at which her perfections were rated--"why, sir," cries the doctor, "being married to those sleepy-souled women is just like playing at cards for nothing: no passion is excited, and the time is filled up. i do not, however, envy a fellow one of those honeysuckle wives for my part, as they are but _creepers_ at best, and commonly destroy the tree they so tenderly cling about." for a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at her husband's seat in wales with less attention than he had long been accustomed to, he had a rougher denunciation. "that woman," cries johnson, "is like sour small- beer, the beverage of her table, and produce of the wretched country she lives in: like that, she could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is spoiled." this was in the same vein of asperity, and i believe with something like the same provocation, that he observed of a scotch lady, "that she resembled a dead nettle; were she alive," said he, "she would sting." mr. johnson's hatred of the scotch is so well known, and so many of his bons mots expressive of that hatred have been already repeated in so many books and pamphlets, that 'tis perhaps scarcely worth while to write down the conversation between him and a friend of that nation who always resides in london, and who at his return from the hebrides asked him, with a firm tone of voice, "what he thought of his country?" "that it is a very vile country, to be sure, sir," returned for answer dr. johnson. "well, sir!" replies the other, somewhat mortified, "god made it." "certainly he did," answers mr. johnson again, "but we must always remember that he made it for scotchmen, and comparisons are odious, mr. s---; but god made hell." dr. johnson did not, i think, much delight in that kind of conversation which consists in telling stories. "everybody," said he, "tells stories of me, and i tell stories of nobody. i do not recollect," added he, "that i have ever told _you_, that have been always favourites, above three stories; but i hope i do not play the old fool, and force people to hear uninteresting narratives, only because i once was diverted with them myself." he was, however, no enemy to that sort of talk from the famous mr. foote, "whose happiness of manner in relating was such," he said, "as subdued arrogance and roused stupidity. _his_ stories were truly like those of biron in love's labour's lost, so _very_ attractive-- 'that aged ears played truant with his tales, and younger hearings were quite ravished, so sweet and voluble was his discourse.' of all conversers, however," added he, "the late hawkins browne was the most delightful with whom i ever was in company: his talk was at once so elegant, so apparently artless, so pure, so pleasing, it seemed a perpetual stream of sentiment, enlivened by gaiety, and sparkling with images." when i asked dr. johnson who was the best man he had ever known? "psalmanazar," was the unexpected reply. he said, likewise, "that though a native of france, as his friend imagined, he possessed more of the english language than any one of the other foreigners who had separately fallen in his way." though there was much esteem, however, there was, i believe, but little confidence between them; they conversed merely about general topics, religion and learning, of which both were undoubtedly stupendous examples; and, with regard to true christian perfection, i have heard johnson say, "that george psalmanazar's piety, penitence, and virtue exceeded almost what we read as wonderful even in the lives of saints." i forget in what year it was this extraordinary person lived and died at a house in old street, where mr. johnson was witness to his talents and virtues, and to his final preference of the church of england, after having studied, disgraced, and adorned so many modes of worship. the name he went by was not supposed by his friend to be that of his family, but all inquiries were vain. his reasons for concealing his original were penitentiary; he deserved no other name than that of the impostor, he said. that portion of the universal history which was written by him does not seem to me to be composed with peculiar spirit, but all traces of the wit and the wanderer were probably worn out before he undertook the work. his pious and patient endurance of a tedious illness, ending in an exemplary death, confirmed the strong impression his merit had made upon the mind of mr. johnson. "it is so _very_ difficult," said he, always, "for a sick man not to be a scoundrel. oh! set the pillows soft, here is mr. grumbler a-coming. ah! let no air in for the world, mr. grumbler will be here presently." this perpetual preference is so offensive, where the privileges of sickness are, besides, supported by wealth, and nourished by dependence, that one cannot much wonder that a rough mind is revolted by them. it was, however, at once comical and touchant (as the french call it), to observe mr. johnson so habitually watchful against this sort of behaviour, that he was often ready to suspect himself of it; and when one asked him gently, how he did?--"ready to become a scoundrel, madam," would commonly be the answer; "with a little more spoiling you will, i think, make me a complete rascal!" his desire of doing good was not, however, lessened by his aversion to a sick chamber. he would have made an ill man well by any expense or fatigue of his own, sooner than any of the canters. canter, indeed, was he none: he would forget to ask people after the health of their nearest relations, and say in excuse, "that he knew they did not care: why should they?" says he; "every one in this world has as much as they can do in caring for themselves, and few have leisure really to _think_ of their neighbours' distresses, however they may delight their tongues with _talking_ of them." the natural depravity of mankind and remains of original sin were so fixed in mr. johnson's opinion, that he was indeed a most acute observer of their effects; and used to say sometimes, half in jest, half in earnest, that they were the remains of his old tutor mandeville's instructions. as a book, however, he took care always loudly to condemn the "fable of the bees," but not without adding, "that it was the work of a thinking man." i have in former days heard dr. collier of the commons loudly condemned for uttering sentiments, which twenty years after i have heard as loudly applauded from the lips of dr. johnson, concerning the well-known writer of that celebrated work: but if people will live long enough in this capricious world, such instances of partiality will shock them less and less by frequent repetition. mr. johnson knew mankind, and wished to mend them: he therefore, to the piety and pure religion, the untainted integrity, and scrupulous morals of my earliest and most disinterested friend, judiciously contrived to join a cautious attention to the capacity of his hearers, and a prudent resolution not to lessen the influence of his learning and virtue, by casual freaks of humour and irregular starts of ill-managed merriment. he did not wish to confound, but to inform his auditors; and though he did not appear to solicit benevolence, he always wished to retain authority, and leave his company impressed with the idea that it was his to teach in this world, and theirs to learn. what wonder, then, that all should receive with docility from johnson those doctrines, which, propagated by collier, they drove away from them with shouts! dr. johnson was not grave, however, because he knew not how to be merry. no man loved laughing better, and his vein of humour was rich and apparently inexhaustible; though dr. goldsmith said once to him, "we should change companions oftener, we exhaust one another, and shall soon be both of us worn out." poor goldsmith was to him, indeed, like the earthen pot to the iron one in fontaine's fables; it had been better for _him_, perhaps, that they had changed companions oftener; yet no experience of his antagonist's strength hindered him from continuing the contest. he used to remind me always of that verse in berni-- "il pover uomo che non sen' era accorto, andava combattendo--ed era morto." mr. johnson made him a comical answer one day, when seeming to repine at the success of beattie's "essay on truth"--"here's such a stir," said he, "about a fellow that has written one book, and i have written many." "ah, doctor," says his friend, "there go two-and-forty sixpences, you know, to one guinea." they had spent an evening with eaton graham, too, i remember hearing it was at some tavern; his heart was open, and he began inviting away; told what he could do to make his college agreeable, and begged the visit might not be delayed. goldsmith thanked him, and proposed setting out with mr. johnson for buckinghamshire in a fortnight. "nay, hold, dr. _minor_," says the other, "i did not invite you." many such mortifications arose in the course of their intimacy, to be sure, but few more laughable than when the newspapers had tacked them together as the pedant and his flatterer in love's labour's lost. dr. goldsmith came to his friend, fretting and foaming, and vowing vengeance against the printer, etc., till mr. johnson, tired of the bustle, and desirous to think of something else, cried out at last, "why, what would'st thou have, dear doctor! who the plague is hurt with all this nonsense? and how is a man the worse, i wonder, in his health, purse, or character, for being called holofernes?" "i do not know," replies the other, "how you may relish being called holofernes, but i do not like at least to play goodman dull." dr. johnson was indeed famous for disregarding public abuse. when the people criticised and answered his pamphlets, papers, etc., "why, now, these fellows are only advertising my book," he would say; "it is surely better a man should be abused than forgotten." when churchill nettled him, however, it is certain he felt the sting, or that poet's works would hardly have been left out of the edition. of that, however, i have no right to decide; the booksellers, perhaps, did not put churchill on their list. i know mr. johnson was exceedingly zealous to declare how very little he had to do with the selection. churchill's works, too, might possibly be rejected by him upon a higher principle; the highest, indeed, if he was inspired by the same laudable motive which made him reject every authority for a word in his dictionary that could only be gleaned from writers dangerous to religion or morality. "i would not," said he, "send people to look for words in a book, that by such a casual seizure of the mind might chance to mislead it for ever." in consequence of this delicacy, mrs. montague once observed, "that were an angel to give the imprimatur, dr. johnson's works were among those very few which would not be lessened by a line." that such praise from such a lady should delight him, is not strange; insensibility in a case like that must have been the result alone of arrogance acting on stupidity. mr. johnson had indeed no dislike to the commendations which he knew he deserved. "what signifies protesting so against flattery!" would he cry; "when a person speaks well of one, it must be either true or false, you know; if true, let us rejoice in his good opinion; if he lies, it is a proof at least that he loves more to please me than to sit silent when he need say nothing." that natural roughness of his manner so often mentioned would, notwithstanding the regularity of his notions, burst through them all from time to time; and he once bade a very celebrated lady, who praised him with too much zeal, perhaps, or perhaps too strong an emphasis (which always offended him), "consider what her flattery was worth before she choked _him_ with it." a few more winters passed in the talking world showed him the value of that friend's commendations, however; and he was very sorry for the disgusting speech he made her. i used to think mr. johnson's determined preference of a cold, monotonous talker over an emphatical and violent one would make him quite a favourite among the men of ton, whose insensibility, or affectation of perpetual calmness, certainly did not give to him the offence it does to many. he loved "conversation without effort," he said; and the encomiums i have heard him so often pronounce on the manners of topham beaucler in society constantly ended in that peculiar praise, that "it was without _effort_." we were talking of richardson, who wrote "clarissa." "you think i love flattery," says dr. johnson, "and so i do; but a little too much always disgusts me. that fellow richardson, on the contrary, could not be contented to sail quietly down the stream of reputation without longing to taste the froth from every stroke of the oar." with regard to slight insults from newspaper abuse, i have already declared his notions. "they sting one," says he, "but as a fly stings a horse; and the eagle will not catch flies." he once told me, however, that cummyns, the famous quaker, whose friendship he valued very highly, fell a sacrifice to their insults, having declared on his death-bed to dr. johnson that the pain of an anonymous letter, written in some of the common prints of the day, fastened on his heart, and threw him into the slow fever of which he died. nor was cummyns the only valuable member so lost to society. hawkesworth, the pious, the virtuous, and the wise, for want of that fortitude which casts a shield before the merits of his friend, fell a lamented sacrifice to wanton malice and cruelty, i know not how provoked; but all in turn feel the lash of censure in a country where, as every baby is allowed to carry a whip, no person can escape except by chance. the unpublished crimes, unknown distresses, and even death itself, however, daily occurring in less liberal governments and less free nations, soon teach one to content oneself with such petty grievances, and make one acknowledge that the undistinguishing severity of newspaper abuse may in some measure diminish the diffusion of vice and folly in great britain, and while they fright delicate minds into forced refinements and affected insipidity, they are useful to the great causes of virtue in the soul and liberty in the state; and though sensibility often sinks under the roughness of their prescriptions, it would be no good policy to take away their licence. knowing the state of mr. johnson's nerves, and how easily they were affected, i forbore reading in a new magazine, one day, the death of a samuel johnson who expired that month; but my companion snatching up the book, saw it himself, and contrary to my expectation, "oh!" said he, "i hope death will now be glutted with sam johnsons, and let me alone for some time to come; i read of another namesake's departure last week." though mr. johnson was commonly affected even to agony at the thoughts of a friend's dying, he troubled himself very little with the complaints they might make to him about ill-health. "dear doctor," said he one day to a common acquaintance, who lamented the tender state of his _inside_, "do not be like the spider, man, and spin conversation thus incessantly out of thy own bowels." i told him of another friend who suffered grievously with the gout. "he will live a vast many years for all that," replied he, "and then what signifies how much he suffers! but he will die at last, poor fellow; there's the misery; gout seldom takes the fort by a coup-de-main, but turning the siege into a blockade, obliges it to surrender at discretion." a lady he thought well of was disordered in her health. "what help has she called in?" inquired johnson. "dr. james, sir," was the reply. "what is her disease?" "oh, nothing positive; rather a gradual and gentle decline." "she will die, then, pretty dear!" answered he. "when death's pale horse runs away with a person on full speed, an active physician may possibly give them a turn; but if he carries them on an even, slow pace, down-hill, too! no care nor skill can save them!" when garrick was on his last sick-bed, no arguments, or recitals of such facts as i had heard, would persuade mr. johnson of his danger. he had prepossessed himself with a notion, that to say a man was sick was very near wishing him so; and few things offended him more than prognosticating even the death of an ordinary acquaintance. "ay, ay," said he, "swift knew the world pretty well when he said that-- 'some dire misfortune to portend, no enemy can match a friend.'" the danger, then, of mr. garrick, or of mr. thrale, whom he loved better, was an image which no one durst present before his view; he always persisted in the possibility and hope of their recovering disorders from which no human creatures by human means alone ever did recover. his distress for their loss was for that very reason poignant to excess. but his fears of his own salvation were excessive. his truly tolerant spirit and christian charity, which _hopeth all things_, and _believeth all things_, made him rely securely on the safety of his friends; while his earnest aspiration after a blessed immortality made him cautious of his own steps, and timorous concerning their consequences. he knew how much had been given, and filled his mind with fancies of how much would be required, till his impressed imagination was often disturbed by them, and his health suffered from the sensibility of his too tender conscience. a real christian is _so_ apt to find his talk above his power of performance! mr. johnson did not, however, give in to ridiculous refinements either of speculation or practice, or suffer himself to be deluded by specious appearances. "i have had dust thrown in my eyes too often," would he say, "to be blinded so. let us never confound matters of belief with matters of opinion." some one urged in his presence the preference of hope to possession; and as i remember produced an italian sonnet on the subject. "let us not," cries johnson, "amuse ourselves with subtleties and sonnets, when speaking about hope, which is the follower of faith and the precursor of eternity; but if you only mean those air-built hopes which to-day excite and to-morrow will destroy, let us talk away, and remember that we only talk of the pleasures of hope; we feel those of possession, and no man in his senses would change the last for the first. such hope is a mere bubble, that by a gentle breath may be blown to what size you will almost, but a rough blast bursts it at once. hope is an amusement rather than a good, and adapted to none but very tranquil minds." the truth is, mr. johnson hated what he called unprofitable chat; and to a gentleman who had disserted some time about the natural history of the mouse--"i wonder what such a one would have said," cried johnson, "if he had ever had the luck to see a _lion_!" i well remember that at brighthelmstone once, when he was not present, mr. beauclerc asserted that he was afraid of spirits; and i, who was secretly offended at the charge, asked him, the first opportunity i could find, "what ground he had ever given to the world for such a report?" "i can," replied he, "recollect nothing nearer it than my telling dr. lawrence, many years ago, that a long time after my poor mother's death i heard her voice call '_sam_!'" "what answer did the doctor make to your story, sir?" said i. "none in the world," replied he, and suddenly changed the conversation. now, as mr. johnson had a most unshaken faith, without any mixture of credulity, this story must either have been strictly true, or his persuasion of its truth the effect of disordered spirits. i relate the anecdote precisely as he told it me, but could not prevail on him to draw out the talk into length for further satisfaction of my curiosity. as johnson was the firmest of believers, without being credulous, so he was the most charitable of mortals, without being what we call an active friend. admirable at giving counsel, no man saw his way so clearly; but he would not stir a finger for the assistance of those to whom he was willing enough to give advice: besides that, he had principles of laziness, and could be indolent by rule. to hinder your death, or procure you a dinner, i mean if really in want of one; his earnestness, his exertions could not be prevented, though health and purse and ease were all destroyed by their violence. if you wanted a slight favour, you must apply to people of other dispositions; for not a step would johnson move to obtain a man a vote in a society, to repay a compliment which might be useful or pleasing, to write a letter of request, or to obtain a hundred pounds a year more for a friend, who perhaps had already two or three. no force could urge him to diligence, no importunity could conquer his resolution of standing still. "what good are we doing with all this ado?" would he say; "dearest lady, let's hear no more of it!" i have, however, more than once in my life forced him on such services, but with extreme difficulty. we parted at his door one evening when i had teased him for many weeks to write a recommendatory letter of a little boy to his schoolmaster; and after he had faithfully promised to do this prodigious feat before we met again--"do not forget dear dick, sir," said i, as he went out of the coach. he turned back, stood still two minutes on the carriage-step--"when i have written my letter for dick, i may hang myself, mayn't i?" and turned away in a very ill humour indeed. though apt enough to take sudden likings or aversions to people he occasionally met, he would never hastily pronounce upon their character; and when, seeing him justly delighted with solander's conversation, i observed once that he was a man of great parts who talked from a full mind--"it may be so," said mr. johnson, "but you cannot know it yet, nor i neither: the pump works well, to be sure! but how, i wonder, are we to decide in so very short an acquaintance, whether it is supplied by a spring or a reservoir?" he always made a great difference in his esteem between talents and erudition; and when he saw a person eminent for literature, though wholly unconversible, it fretted him. "teaching such tonies," said he to me one day, "is like setting a lady's diamonds in lead, which only obscures the lustre of the stone, and makes the possessor ashamed on't." useful and what we call everyday knowledge had the most of his just praise. "let your boy learn arithmetic, dear madam," was his advice to the mother of a rich young heir: "he will not then be a prey to every rascal which this town swarms with. teach him the value of money, and how to reckon it; ignorance to a wealthy lad of one-and-twenty is only so much fat to a sick sheep: it just serves to call the _rooks_ about him." "and all that prey in vice or folly joy to see their quarry fly; here the gamester light and jolly, there the lender grave and sly." these improviso lines, making part of a long copy of verses which my regard for the youth on whose birthday they were written obliges me to suppress, lest they should give him pain, show a mind of surprising activity and warmth; the more so as he was past seventy years of age when he composed them; but nothing more certainly offended mr. johnson than the idea of a man's faculties (mental ones, i mean) decaying by time. "it is not true, sir," would he say; "what a man could once do, he would always do, unless, indeed, by dint of vicious indolence, and compliance with the nephews and the nieces who crowd round an old fellow, and help to tuck him in, till he, contented with the exchange of fame for ease, e'en resolves to let them set the pillows at his back, and gives no further proof of his existence than just to suck the jelly that prolongs it." for such a life or such a death dr. johnson was indeed never intended by providence: his mind was like a warm climate, which brings everything to perfection suddenly and vigorously, not like the alembicated productions of artificial fire, which always betray the difficulty of bringing them forth when their size is disproportionate to their flavour. "je ferois un roman tout comme un autre, mais la vie n'est point un roman," says a famous french writer; and this was so certainly the opinion of the author of the "rambler," that all his conversation precepts tended towards the dispersion of romantic ideas, and were chiefly intended to promote the cultivation of "that which before thee lies in daily life." milton. and when he talked of authors, his praise went spontaneously to such passages as are sure in his own phrase to leave something behind them useful on common occasions, or observant of common manners. for example, it was not the two _last_, but the two _first_ volumes of "clarissa" that he prized; "for give me a sick-bed and a dying lady," said he, "and i'll be pathetic myself. but richardson had picked the kernel of life," he said, "while fielding was contented with the husk." it was not king lear cursing his daughters, or deprecating the storm, that i remember his commendations of; but iago's ingenious malice and subtle revenge; or prince hal's gay compliance with the vices of falstaff, whom he all along despised. those plays had indeed no rivals in johnson's favour: "no man but shakespeare," he said, "could have drawn sir john." his manner of criticising and commending addison's prose was the same in conversation as we read it in the printed strictures, and many of the expressions used have been heard to fall from him on common occasions. it was notwithstanding observable enough (or i fancied so) that he did never like, though he always thought fit to praise it; and his praises resembled those of a man who extols the superior elegance of high painted porcelain, while he himself always chooses to eat off _plate_. i told him so one day, and he neither denied it nor appeared displeased. of the pathetic in poetry he never liked to speak, and the only passage i ever heard him applaud as particularly tender in any common book was jane shore's exclamation in the last act-- "forgive me! _but_ forgive me!" it was not, however, from the want of a susceptible heart that he hated to cite tender expressions, for he was more strongly and more violently affected by the force of words representing ideas capable of affecting him at all than any other man in the world, i believe: and when he would try to repeat the celebrated prosa ecclesiastica pro mortuis, as it is called, beginning "dies irae, dies illa," he could never pass the stanza ending thus, "tantus labor non sit cassus," without bursting into a flood of tears; which sensibility i used to quote against him when he would inveigh against devotional poetry, and protest that all religious verses were cold and feeble, and unworthy the subject, which ought to be treated with higher reverence, he said, than either poets or painters could presume to excite or bestow. nor can anything be a stronger proof of dr. johnson's piety than such an expression; for his idea of poetry was magnificent indeed, and very fully was he persuaded of its superiority over every other talent bestowed by heaven on man. his chapter upon that particular subject in his "rasselas" is really written from the fulness of his heart, and quite in his best manner, i think. i am not so sure that this is the proper place to mention his writing that surprising little volume in a week or ten days' time, in order to obtain money for his journey to lichfield when his mother lay upon her last sick-bed. promptitude of thought, indeed, and quickness of expression, were among the peculiar felicities of johnson; his notions rose up like the dragon's teeth sowed by cadmus all ready clothed, and in bright armour too, fit for immediate battle. he was therefore (as somebody is said to have expressed it) a tremendous converser, and few people ventured to try their skill against an antagonist with whom contention was so hopeless. one gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman's house in his company, and that of mr. thrale, to whom i was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in defence of king william's character, and having opposed and contradicted johnson two or three times petulantly enough, the master of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences; to avoid which he said, loud enough for the doctor to hear, "our friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to relate at club to-morrow how he teased johnson at dinner to-day--this is all to do himself _honour_." "no, upon my word," replied the other, "i see no _honour_ in it, whatever you may do." "well, sir!" returned mr. johnson, sternly, "if you do not _see_ the _honour_, i am sure i _feel_ the _disgrace_." a young fellow, less confident of his own abilities, lamenting one day that he had lost all his greek--"i believe it happened at the same time, sir," said johnson, "that i lost all my large estate in yorkshire." but however roughly he might be suddenly provoked to treat a harmless exertion of vanity, he did not wish to inflict the pain he gave, and was sometimes very sorry when he perceived the people to smart more than they deserved. "how harshly you treated that man to-day," said i once, "who harangued us so about gardening." "i am sorry," said he, "if i vexed the creature, for there is certainly no harm in a fellow's rattling a rattle- box, only don't let him think that he thunders." the lincolnshire lady who showed him a grotto she had been making, came off no better, as i remember. "would it not be a pretty cool habitation in summer," said she, "mr. johnson?" "i think it would, madam," replied he, "for a toad." all desire of distinction, indeed, had a sure enemy in mr. johnson. we met a friend driving six very small ponies, and stopped to admire them. "why does nobody," said our doctor, "begin the fashion of driving six spavined horses, all spavined of the same leg? it would have a mighty pretty effect, and produce the distinction of doing something worse than the common way." when mr. johnson had a mind to compliment any one he did it with more dignity to himself, and better effect upon the company, than any man. i can recollect but few instances, indeed, though perhaps that may be more my fault than his. when sir joshua reynolds left the room one day, he said, "there goes a man not to be spoilt by prosperity." and when mrs. montague showed him some china plates which had once belonged to queen elizabeth, he told her "that they had no reason to be ashamed of their present possessor, who was so little inferior to the first." i likewise remember that he pronounced one day at my house a most lofty panegyric upon jones the orientalist, who seemed little pleased with the praise, for what cause i know not. he was not at all offended when, comparing all our acquaintance to some animal or other, we pitched upon the elephant for his resemblance, adding that the proboscis of that creature was like his mind most exactly, strong to buffet even the tiger, and pliable to pick up even the pin. the truth is, mr. johnson was often good humouredly willing to join in childish amusements, and hated to be left out of any innocent merriment that was going forward. mr. murphy always said he was incomparable at buffoonery; and i verily think, if he had had good eyes, and a form less inflexible, he would have made an admirable mimic. he certainly rode on mr. thrale's old hunter with a good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds fifty miles on end sometimes, would never own himself either tired or amused. "i have now learned," said he, "by hunting, to perceive that it is no diversion at all, nor ever takes a man out of himself for a moment: the dogs have less sagacity than i could have prevailed on myself to suppose; and the gentlemen often call to me not to ride over them. it is very strange, and very melancholy, that the paucity of human pleasure should persuade us ever to call hunting one of them." he was, however, proud to be amongst the sportsmen; and i think no praise ever went so close to his heart as when mr. hamilton called out one day upon brighthelmstone downs, "why, johnson rides as well, for aught i see, as the most illiterate fellow in england." though dr. johnson owed his very life to air and exercise, given him when his organs of respiration could scarcely play, in the year , yet he ever persisted in the notion that neither of them had anything to do with health. "people live as long," said he, "in pepper alley as on salisbury plain; and they live so much happier, that an inhabitant of the first would, if he turned cottager, starve his understanding for want of conversation, and perish in a state of mental inferiority." mr. johnson, indeed, as he was a very talking man himself, had an idea that nothing promoted happiness so much as conversation. a friend's erudition was commended one day as equally deep and strong. "he will not talk, sir," was the reply, "so his learning does no good, and his wit, if he has it, gives us no pleasure. out of all his boasted stores i never heard him force but one word, and that word was _richard_." with a contempt not inferior he received the praises of a pretty lady's face and behaviour. "she says nothing, sir," answers johnson; "a talking blackamoor were better than a white creature who adds nothing to life, and by sitting down before one thus desperately silent, takes away the confidence one should have in the company of her chair if she were once out of it." no one was, however, less willing to begin any discourse than himself. his friend, mr. thomas tyers, said he was like the ghosts, who never speak till they are spoken to: and he liked the expression so well, that he often repeated it. he had, indeed, no necessity to lead the stream of chat to a favourite channel, that his fulness on the subject might be shown more clearly whatever was the topic; and he usually left the choice to others. his information best enlightened, his argument strengthened, and his wit made it ever remembered. of him it might have been said, as he often delighted to say of edmund burke, "that you could not stand five minutes with that man beneath a shed while it rained, but you must be convinced you had been standing with the greatest man you had ever yet seen." as we had been saying, one day, that no subject failed of receiving dignity from the manner in which mr. johnson treated it, a lady at my house said she would make him talk about love, and took her measures accordingly, deriding the novels of the day because they treated about love. "it is not," replied our philosopher, "because they treat, as you call it, about love, but because they treat of nothing, that they are despicable. we must not ridicule a passion which he who never felt never was happy, and he who laughs at never deserves to feel--a passion which has caused the change of empires and the loss of worlds--a passion which has inspired heroism and subdued avarice." he thought he had already said too much. "a passion, in short," added he, with an altered tone, "that consumes me away for my pretty fanny here, and she is very cruel," speaking of another lady in the room. he told us, however, in the course of the same chat, how his negro francis had been eminent for his success among the girls. seeing us all laugh, "i must have you know, ladies," said he, "that frank has carried the empire of cupid further than most men. when i was in lincolnshire so many years ago he attended me thither; and when we returned home together, i found that a female haymaker had followed him to london for love." francis was indeed no small favourite with his master, who retained, however, a prodigious influence over his most violent passions. on the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our friend dr. johnson, the th and the th of september, we every year made up a little dance and supper, to divert our servants and their friends, putting the summer-house into their hands for the two evenings, to fill with acquaintance and merriment. francis and his white wife were invited, of course. she was eminently pretty, and he was jealous, as my maids told me. on the first of these days' amusements (i know not what year) frank took offence at some attentions paid his desdemona, and walked away next morning to london in wrath. his master and i driving the same road an hour after, overtook him. "what is the matter, child," says dr. johnson, "that you leave streatham to-day. _art sick_?" "he is jealous," whispered i. "are you jealous of your wife, you stupid blockhead?" cries out his master in another tone. the fellow hesitated, and, "_to be sure_, _sir_, _i don't quite approve_, _sir_," was the stammering reply. "why, what do they _do_ to her, man? do the footmen kiss her?" "no, sir, no! kiss my _wife_, sir! _i hope not_, sir." "why, what _do_ they do to her, my lad?" "why, nothing, sir, i'm sure, sir." "why, then go back directly and dance, you dog, do; and let's hear no more of such empty lamentations." i believe, however, that francis was scarcely as much the object of mr. johnson's personal kindness as the representative of dr. bathurst, for whose sake he would have loved anybody or anything. when he spoke of negroes, he always appeared to think them of a race naturally inferior, and made few exceptions in favour of his own; yet whenever disputes arose in his household among the many odd inhabitants of which it consisted, he always sided with francis against the others, whom he suspected (not unjustly, i believe) of greater malignity. it seems at once vexatious and comical to reflect that the dissensions those people chose to live constantly in distressed and mortified him exceedingly. he really was oftentimes afraid of going home, because he was so sure to be met at the door with numberless complaints; and he used to lament pathetically to me, and to mr. sastres, the italian master, who was much his favourite, that they made his life miserable from the impossibility he found of making theirs happy, when every favour he bestowed on one was wormwood to the rest. if, however, i ventured to blame their ingratitude, and condemn their conduct, he would instantly set about softening the one and justifying the other; and finished commonly by telling me, that i knew not how to make allowances for situations i never experienced. "to thee no reason who know'st only good, but evil hast not tried." milton. dr. johnson knew how to be merry with mean people, too, as well as to be sad with them; he loved the lower ranks of humanity with a real affection: and though his talents and learning kept him always in the sphere of upper life, yet he never lost sight of the time when he and they shared pain and pleasure in common. a borough election once showed me his toleration of boisterous mirth, and his content in the company of people whom one would have thought at first sight little calculated for his society. a rough fellow one day on such an occasion, a hatter by trade, seeing mr. johnson's beaver in a state of decay, seized it suddenly with one hand, and clapping him on the back with the other, "ah, master johnson," says he, "this is no time to be thinking about _hats_." "no, no, sir," replied our doctor in a cheerful tone, "hats are of no use now, as you say, except to throw up in the air and huzza with," accompanying his words with a true election halloo. but it was never against people of coarse life that his contempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in men who considered themselves to be company for _the parlour_, as he called it, was what he could not bear. a very ignorant young fellow, who had plagued us all for nine or ten months, died at last consumptive. "i think," said mr. johnson, when he heard the news, "i am afraid i should have been more concerned for the death of the _dog_; but--" (hesitating a while) "i am not wrong now in all this, for the dog acted up to his character on every occasion that we know; but that dunce of a fellow helped forward the general disgrace of humanity." "why, dear sir," said i, "how odd you are! you have often said the lad was not capable of receiving further instruction." "he was," replied the doctor, "like a corked bottle, with a drop of dirty water in it, to be sure; one might pump upon it for ever without the smallest effect; but when every method to open and clean it had been tried, you would not have me grieve that the bottle was broke at last." this was the same youth who told us he had been reading "lucius florus;" florus delphini was the phrase. "and my mother," said he, "thought it had something to do with delphos; but of that i know nothing." "who founded rome, then ?" inquired mr. thrale. the lad replied, "romulus." "and who succeeded romulus?" said i. a long pause, and apparently distressful hesitation, followed the difficult question. "why will you ask him in terms that he does not comprehend?" said mr. johnson, enraged. "you might as well bid him tell you who phlebotomised romulus. this fellow's dulness is elastic," continued he, "and all we do is but like kicking at a woolsack." the pains he took, however, to obtain the young man more patient instructors were many, and oftentimes repeated. he was put under the care of a clergyman in a distant province; and mr. johnson used both to write and talk to his friends concerning his education. it was on that occasion that i remember his saying, "a boy should never be sent to eton or westminster school before he is twelve years old at least; for if in his years of babyhood he escapes that general and transcendent knowledge without which life is perpetually put to a stand, he will never get it at a public school, where, if he does not learn latin and greek, he learns nothing." mr. johnson often said, "that there was too much stress laid upon literature as indispensably necessary: there is surely no need that everybody should be a scholar, no call that every one should square the circle. our manner of teaching," said he, "cramps and warps many a mind, which if left more at liberty would have been respectable in some way, though perhaps not in that. we lop our trees, and prune them, and pinch them about," he would say, "and nail them tight up to the wall, while a good standard is at last the only thing for bearing healthy fruit, though it commonly begins later. let the people learn necessary knowledge; let them learn to count their fingers, and to count their money, before they are caring for the classics; for," says mr. johnson, "though i do not quite agree with the proverb, that nullum numen abest si sit prudentia, yet we may very well say, that nullum numen adest--ni sit prudentia." we had been visiting at a lady's house, whom as we returned some of the company ridiculed for her ignorance. "she is not ignorant," said he, "i believe, of anything she has been taught, or of anything she is desirous to know: and i suppose if one wanted a little _run tea_, she might be a proper person enough to apply to." when i relate these various instances of contemptuous behaviour shown to a variety of people, i am aware that those who till now have heard little of mr. johnson will here cry out against his pride and his severity; yet i have been as careful as i could to tell them that all he did was gentle, if all he said was rough. had i given anecdotes of his actions instead of his words, we should, i am sure, have had nothing on record but acts of virtue differently modified, as different occasions called that virtue forth: and among all the nine biographical essays or performances which i have heard will at last be written about dear dr. johnson, no mean or wretched, no wicked or even slightly culpable action will, i trust, be found, to produce and put in the scale against a life of seventy years, spent in the uniform practice of every moral excellence and every christian perfection, save humility alone, says a critic, but that i think _must_ be excepted. he was not, however, wanting even in that to a degree seldom attained by man, when the duties of piety or charity called it forth. lowly towards god, and docile towards the church; implicit in his belief of the gospel, and ever respectful towards the people appointed to preach it; tender of the unhappy, and affectionate to the poor, let no one hastily condemn as proud a character which may perhaps somewhat justly be censured as arrogant. it must, however, be remembered again, that even this arrogance was never shown without some intention, immediate or remote, of mending some fault or conveying some instruction. had i meant to make a panegyric on mr. johnson's well-known excellences, i should have told his deeds only, not his words--sincerely protesting, that as i never saw him once do a wrong thing, so we had accustomed ourselves to look upon him almost as an excepted being: and i should as much have expected injustice from socrates, or impiety from paschal, as the slightest deviation from truth and goodness in any transaction one might be engaged in with samuel johnson. his attention to veracity was without equal or example: and when i mentioned clarissa as a perfect character; "on the contrary," said he, "you may observe there is always something which she prefers to truth. fielding's amelia was the most pleasing heroine of all the romances," he said, "but that vile broken nose, never cured, ruined the sale of perhaps the only book, which being printed off betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before night." mr. johnson's knowledge of literary history was extensive and surprising. he knew every adventure of every book you could name almost, and was exceedingly pleased with the opportunity which writing the "poets' lives" gave him to display it. he loved to be set at work, and was sorry when he came to the end of the business he was about. i do not feel so myself with regard to these sheets: a fever which has preyed on me while i wrote them over for the press, will perhaps lessen my power of doing well the first, and probably the last work i should ever have thought of presenting to the public. i could doubtless wish so to conclude it, as at least to show my zeal for my friend, whose life, as i once had the honour and happiness of being useful to, i should wish to record a few particular traits of, that those who read should emulate his goodness; but feeling the necessity of making even virtue and learning such as _his_ agreeable, that all should be warned against such coarseness of manners, as drove even from _him_ those who loved, honoured, and esteemed him. his wife's daughter, mrs. lucy porter, of lichfield, whose veneration for his person and character has ever been the greatest possible, being opposed one day in conversation by a clergyman who came often to her house, and feeling somewhat offended, cried out sudden, "why, mr. pearson," said she, "you are just like dr. johnson, i think: i do not mean that you are a man of the greatest capacity in all the world like dr. johnson, but that you contradict one every word one speaks, just like him." mr. johnson told me the story: he was present at the giving of the reproof. it was, however, observable, that with all his odd severity, he could not keep even indifferent people from teasing him with unaccountable confessions of silly conduct, which one would think they would scarcely have had inclination to reveal even to their tenderest and most intimate companions; and it was from these unaccountable volunteers in sincerity that he learned to warn the world against follies little known, and seldom thought on by other moralists. much of his eloquence, and much of his logic, have i heard him use to prevent men from making vows on trivial occasions; and when he saw a person oddly perplexed about a slight difficulty, "let the man alone," he would say, "and torment him no more about it; there is a vow in the case, i am convinced; but is it not very strange that people should be neither afraid nor ashamed of bringing in god almighty thus at every turn between themselves and their dinner?" when i asked what ground he had for such imaginations, he informed me, "that a young lady once told him in confidence that she could never persuade herself to be dressed against the bell rung for dinner, till she had made a vow to heaven that she would never more be absent from the family meals." the strangest applications in the world were certainly made from time to time towards mr. johnson, who by that means had an inexhaustible fund of ancecdote, and could, if he pleased, tell the most astonishing stories of human folly and human weakness that ever were confided to any man not a confessor by profession. one day, when he was in a humour to record some of them, he told us the following tale:--"a person," said he, "had for these last five weeks often called at my door, but would not leave his name or other message, but that he wished to speak with me. at last we met, and he told me that he was oppressed by scruples of conscience. i blamed him gently for not applying, as the rules of our church direct, to his parish priest or other discreet clergyman; when, after some compliments on his part, he told me that he was clerk to a very eminent trader, at whose warehouses much business consisted in packing goods in order to go abroad; that he was often tempted to take paper and packthread enough for his own use, and that he had indeed done so so often, that he could recollect no time when he ever had bought any for himself. 'but probably,' said i, 'your master was wholly indifferent with regard to such trivial emoluments. you had better ask for it at once, and so take your trifles with content.' 'oh, sir!' replies the visitor, 'my master bid me have as much as i pleased, and was half angry when i talked to him about it.' 'then pray, sir,' said i, 'tease me no more about such airy nothings,' and was going on to be very angry, when i recollected that the fellow might be mad, perhaps; so i asked him, 'when he left the counting-house of an evening?' 'at seven o'clock, sir.' 'and when do you go to bed, sir?' 'at twelve o'clock.' 'then,' replied i, 'i have at least learnt thus much by my new acquaintance--that five hours of the four-and-twenty unemployed are enough for a man to go mad in; so i would advise you, sir, to study algebra, if you are not an adept already in it. your head would get less _muddy_, and you will leave off tormenting your neighbours about paper and packthread, while we all live together in a world that is bursting with sin and sorrow.' it is perhaps needless to add that this visitor came no more." mr. johnson had, indeed, a real abhorrence of a person that had ever before him treated a little thing like a great one; and he quoted this scrupulous gentleman with his packthread very often, in ridicule of a friend who, looking out on streatham common from our windows, one day, lamented the enormous wickedness of the times because some bird-catchers were busy there one fine sunday morning. "while half the christian world is permitted," said he, "to dance and sing and celebrate sunday as a day of festivity, how comes your puritanical spirit so offended with frivolous and empty deviations from exactness? whoever loads life with unnecessary scruples, sir," continued he, "provokes the attention of others on his conduct, and incurs the censure of singularity without reaping the reward of superior virtue." i must not, among the anecdotes of dr. johnson's life, omit to relate a thing that happened to him one day, which he told me of himself. as he was walking along the strand a gentleman stepped out of some neighbouring tavern, with his napkin in his hand, and no hat, and stopping him as civily as he could, "i beg your pardon, sir, but you are dr. johnson, i believe?" "yes, sir." "we have a wager depending on your reply. pray, sir, is it irr_e_parable or irrep_air_able that one should say?" "the _last_, i think, sir," answered dr. johnson, "for the adverb ought to follow the verb; but you had better consult my 'dictionary' than me, for that was the result of more thought than you will now give me time for." "no, no," replied the gentleman, gaily, "the book i have no certainty at all of, but here is the _author_, to whom i referred. is he not, sir?"--to a friend with him. "i have won my twenty guineas quite fairly, and am much obliged to you, sir;" and so shaking mr. johnson kindly by the hand, he went back to finish his dinner or dessert. another strange thing he told me once which there was no danger of forgetting; how a young gentleman called on him one morning, and told him that his father having, just before his death, dropped suddenly into the enjoyment of an ample fortune, he (the son) was willing to qualify himself for genteel society by adding some literature to his other endowments, and wished to be put in an easy way of obtaining it. dr. johnson recommended the university, "for you read latin, sir, with _facility_?" "i read it a little, to be sure, sir." "but do you read it _with facility_, i say?" "upon my word, sir, i do not very well know, but i rather believe not." mr. johnson now began to recommend other branches of science, when he found languages at such an immeasurable distance, and advising him to study natural history, there arose some talk about animals, and their divisions into oviparous and viviparous. "and the cat here, sir," said the youth, who wished for instruction; "pray in what class is she?" our doctor's patience and desire of doing good began now to give way to the natural roughness of his temper. "you would do well," said he, "to look for some person to be always about you, sir, who is capable of explaining such matters, and not come to us"--there were some literary friends present, as i recollect--"to know whether the cat lays eggs or not. get a discreet man to keep you company: there are so many who would be glad of your table and fifty pounds a year." the young gentleman retired, and in less than a week informed his friends that he had fixed on a preceptor to whom no objections could be made; but when he named as such one of the most distinguished characters in our age or nation, mr. johnson fairly gave himself up to an honest burst of laughter; and seeing this youth at such a surprising distance from common knowledge of the world, or of anything in it, desired to see his visitor no more. he had not much better luck with two boys that he used to tell of, to whom he had taught the classics, "so that," he said, "they were no incompetent or mean scholars." it was necessary, however, that something more familiar should be known, and he bid them read the history of england. after a few months had elapsed he asked them, "if they could recollect who first destroyed the monasteries in our island?" one modestly replied that he did not know; the other said _jesus christ_! of the truth of stories which ran currently about the town concerning dr. johnson it was impossible to be certain, unless one asked him himself, and what he told, or suffered to be told, before his face without contradicting, has every public mark, i think, of real and genuine authenticity. i made, one day, very minute inquiries about the tale of his knocking down the famous tom osborne with his own "dictionary" in the man's own house. "and how was that affair? in earnest? do tell me, mr. johnson?" "there is nothing to tell, dearest lady, but that he was insolent, and i beat him, and that he was a blockhead, and told of it, which i should never have done. so the blows have been multiplying and the wonder thickening for all these years, as thomas was never a favourite with the public. i have beat many a fellow, but the rest had the wit to hold their tongues." i have heard mr. murphy relate a very singular story, while he was present, greatly to the credit of his uncommon skill and knowledge of life and manners. when first the "ramblers" came out in separate numbers, as they were the objects of attention to multitudes of people, they happened, as it seems, particularly to attract the notice of a society who met every saturday evening during the summer at romford in essex, and were known by the name of the bowling-green club. these men seeing one day the character of leviculus, the fortune-hunter, or tetrica, the old maid: another day some account of a person who spent his life in hoping for a legacy, or of him who is always prying into other folks' affairs, began sure enough to think they were betrayed, and that some of the coterie sate down to divert himself by giving to the public the portrait of all the rest. filled with wrath against the traitor of romford, one of them resolved to write to the printer, and inquire the author's name. samuel johnson, was the reply. no more was necessary; samuel johnson was the name of the curate, and soon did each begin to load him with reproaches for turning his friends into ridicule in a manner so cruel and unprovoked. in vain did the guiltless curate protest his innocence; one was sure that aligu meant mr. twigg, and that cupidus was but another name for neighbour baggs, till the poor parson, unable to contend any longer, rode to london, and brought them full satisfaction concerning the writer, who, from his own knowledge of general manners, quickened by a vigorous and warm imagination, had happily delineated, though unknown to himself, the members of the bowling-green club. mr. murphy likewise used to tell before dr. johnson, of the first time _they_ met, and the occasion of their meeting, which he related thus. that being in those days engaged in a periodical paper, he found himself at a friend's house out of town; and not being disposed to lose pleasure for the sake of business, wished rather to content his bookseller by sending some unstudied essay to london by the servant, than deny himself the company of his acquaintance, and drive away to his chambers for the purpose of writing something more correct. he therefore took up a french journal litteraire that lay about the room, and translating something he liked from it, sent it away without further examination. time, however, discovered that he had translated from the french a "rambler" of johnson's, which had been but a month before taken from the english; and thinking it right to make him his personal excuses, he went next day, and found our friend all covered with soot like a chimney-sweeper, in a little room, with an intolerable heat and strange smell, as if he had been acting lungs in the 'alchymist,' making aether. "come, come," says dr. johnson, "dear mur, the story is black enough now; and it was a very happy day for me that brought you first to my house, and a very happy mistake about the 'ramblers.'" dr. johnson was always exceeding fond of chemistry; and we made up a sort of laboratory at streatham one summer, and diverted ourselves with drawing essences and colouring liquors. but the danger mr. thrale found his friend in one day when i was driven to london, and he had got the children and servants round him to see some experiments performed, put an end to all our entertainment, so well was the master of the house persuaded that his short sight would have been his destruction in a moment, by bringing him close to a fierce and violent flame. indeed, it was a perpetual miracle that he did not set himself on fire reading a- bed, as was his constant custom, when exceedingly unable even to keep clear of mischief with our best help; and accordingly the fore-top of all his wigs were burned by the candle down to the very net work. mr. thrale's valet de chambre, for that reason, kept one always in his own hands, with which he met him at the parlour-door when the bell had called him down to dinner, and as he went upstairs to sleep in the afternoon, the same man constantly followed him with another. future experiments in chemistry, however, were too dangerous, and mr. thrale insisted that we should do no more towards finding the philosopher's stone. mr. johnson's amusements were thus reduced to the pleasures of conversation merely. and what wonder that he should have an avidity for the sole delight he was able to enjoy? no man conversed so well as he on every subject; no man so acutely discerned the reason of every fact, the motive of every action, the end of every design. he was indeed often pained by the ignorance or causeless wonder of those who knew less than himself, though he seldom drove them away with apparent scorn, unless he thought they added presumption to stupidity. and it was impossible not to laugh at the patience he showed, when a welsh parson of mean abilities, though a good heart, struck with reverence at the sight of dr. johnson, whom he had heard of as the greatest man living, could not find any words to answer his inquiries concerning a motto round somebody's arms which adorned a tombstone in ruabon churchyard. if i remember right the words were-- "heb dw, heb dym, dw o' diggon." and though of no very difficult construction, the gentleman seemed wholly confounded, and unable to explain them; till mr. johnson, having picked out the meaning by little and little, said to the man, "heb is a preposition, i believe, sir, is it not?" my countryman recovering some spirits upon the sudden question, cried out, "so i humbly presume, sir," very comically. stories of humour do not tell well in books; and what made impression on the friends who heard a jest will seldom much delight the distant acquaintance or sullen critic who reads it. the cork model of paris is not more despicable as a resemblance of a great city, than this book, levior cortice, as a specimen of johnson's character. yet everybody naturally likes to gather little specimens of the rarities found in a great country; and could i carry home from italy square pieces of all the curious marbles which are the just glory of this surprising part of the world, i could scarcely contrive, perhaps, to arrange them so meanly as not to gain some attention from the respect due to the places they once belonged to. such a piece of motley mosaic work will these anecdotes inevitably make. but let the reader remember that he was promised nothing better, and so be as contented as he can. an irish trader at our house one day heard dr. johnson launch out into very great and greatly deserved praises of mr. edmund burke. delighted to find his countryman stood so high in the opinion of a man he had been told so much of, "sir," said he, "give _me_ leave to tell something of mr. burke now." we were all silent, and the honest hibernian began to relate how mr. burke went to see the collieries in a distant province; and he would go down into the bowels of the earth (in a bag), and he would examine everything. "he went in a bag, sir, and ventured his health and his life for knowledge: but he took care of his clothes, that they should not be spoiled, for he went down in a bag." "well, sir," says mr. johnson, good-humouredly, "if our friend mund should die in any of these hazardous exploits, you and i would write his life and panegyric together; and your chapter of it should be entitled thus: 'burke in a bag.'" he had always a very great personal regard and particular affection for mr. edmund burke, as well as an esteem difficult for me to repeat, though for him only easy to express. and when at the end of the year the general election called us all different ways, and broke up the delightful society in which we had spent some time at beaconsfield, dr. johnson shook the hospitable master of the house kindly by the hand, and said, "farewell, my dear sir, and remember that i wish you all the success which ought to be wished you, which can possibly be wished you, indeed--_by an honest man_." i must here take leave to observe, that in giving little memoirs of mr. johnson's behaviour and conversation, such as i saw and heard it, my book lies under manifest disadvantages, compared with theirs, who having seen him in various situations, and observed his conduct in numberless cases, are able to throw stronger and more brilliant lights upon his character. virtues are like shrubs, which yield their sweets in different manners according to the circumstances which surround them; and while generosity of soul scatters its fragrance like the honeysuckle, and delights the senses of many occasional passengers, who feel the pleasure, and half wonder how the breeze has blown it from so far, the more sullen but not less valuable myrtle waits like fortitude to discover its excellence, till the hand arrives that will _crush_ it, and force out that perfume whose durability well compensates the difficulty of production. i saw mr. johnson in none but a tranquil, uniform state, passing the evening of his life among friends, who loved, honoured, and admired him. i saw none of the things he did, except such acts of charity as have been often mentioned in this book, and such writings as are universally known. what he said is all i can relate; and from what he said, those who think it worth while to read these anecdotes must be contented to gather his character. mine is a mere _candle-light_ picture of his latter days, where everything falls in dark shadow except the face, the index of the mind; but even that is seen unfavourably, and with a paleness beyond what nature gave it. when i have told how many follies dr. johnson knew of others, i must not omit to mention with how much fidelity he would always have kept them concealed, could they of whom he knew the absurdities have been contented, in the common phrase, to keep their own counsel. but returning home one day from dining at the chaplain's table, he told me that dr. goldsmith had given a very comical and unnecessarily exact recital there of his own feelings when his play was hissed: telling the company how he went, indeed, to the literary club at night, and chatted gaily among his friends, as if nothing had happened amiss; that to impress them still more forcibly with an idea of his magnanimity, he even sung his favourite song about an old woman tossed in a blanket seventeen times as high as the moon; "but all this while i was suffering horrid tortures," said he, "and verily believe that if i had put a bit in my mouth it would have strangled me on the spot, i was so excessively ill. but i made more noise than usual to cover all that, and so they never perceived my not eating, nor i believe at all imaged to themselves the anguish of my heart; but when all were gone except johnson here, i burst out a-crying, and even swore by --- that i would never write again." "all which, doctor," says mr. johnson, amazed at his odd frankness, "i thought had been a secret between you and me; and i am sure i would not have said anything about it for the world. now see," repeated he, when he told the story, "what a figure a man makes who thus unaccountably chooses to be the frigid narrator of his own disgrace. il volto sciolto, ed i pensieri stretti, was a proverb made on purpose for such mortals, to keep people, if possible, from being thus the heralds of their own shame; for what compassion can they gain by such silly narratives? no man should be expected to sympathise with the sorrows of vanity. if, then, you are mortified by any ill-usage, whether real or supposed, keep at least the account of such mortifications to yourself, and forbear to proclaim how meanly you are thought on by others, unless you desire to be meanly thought of by all." the little history of another friend's superfluous ingenuity will contribute to introduce a similar remark. he had a daughter of about fourteen years old, as i remember, fat and clumsy; and though the father adored, and desired others to adore her, yet being aware, perhaps, that she was not what the french call paitrie des graces, and thinking, i suppose, that the old maxim of beginning to laugh at yourself first when you have anything ridiculous about you was a good one, he comically enough called his girl _trundle_ when he spoke of her; and many who bore neither of them any ill-will felt disposed to laugh at the happiness of the appellation. "see, now," says dr. johnson, "what haste people are in to be hooted. nobody ever thought of this fellow nor of his daughter, could he but have been quiet himself, and forborne to call the eyes of the world on his dowdy and her deformity. but it teaches one to see at least that if nobody else will nickname one's children, the parents will e'en do it themselves." all this held true in matters to mr. johnson of more serious consequence. when sir joshua reynolds had painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen, and holding it almost close to his eye, as was his general custom, he felt displeased, and told me "he would not be known by posterity for his _defects_ only, let sir joshua do his worst." i said in reply that reynolds had no such difficulties about himself, and that he might observe the picture which hung up in the room where we were talking represented sir joshua holding his ear in his hand to catch the sound. "he may paint himself as deaf if he chooses," replied johnson, "but i will not be _blinking sam_." it is chiefly for the sake of evincing the regularity and steadiness of mr. johnson's mind that i have given these trifling memoirs, to show that his soul was not different from that of another person, but, as it was, greater; and to give those who did not know him a just idea of his acquiescence in what we call vulgar prejudices, and of his extreme distance from those notions which the world has agreed, i know not very well why, to call romantic. it is indeed observable in his preface to shakespeare, that while other critics expatiate on the creative powers and vivid imagination of that matchless poet, dr. johnson commends him for giving so just a representation of human manners, "that from his scenes a hermit might estimate the value of society, and a confessor predict the progress of the passions." i have not the book with me here, but am pretty sure that such is his expression. the general and constant advice he gave, too, when consulted about the choice of a wife, a profession, or whatever influences a man's particular and immediate happiness, was always to reject no positive good from fears of its contrary consequences. "do not," said he, "forbear to marry a beautiful woman if you can find such, out of a fancy that she will be less constant than an ugly one; or condemn yourself to the society of coarseness and vulgarity for fear of the expenses or other dangers of elegance and personal charms, which have been always acknowledged as a positive good, and for the want of which there should be always given some weighty compensation. i have, however," continued mr. johnson, "seen some prudent fellows who forbore to connect themselves with beauty lest coquetry should be near, and with wit or birth lest insolence should lurk behind them, till they have been forced by their discretion to linger life away in tasteless stupidity, and choose to count the moments by remembrance of pain instead of enjoyment of pleasure." when professions were talked of, "scorn," said mr. johnson, "to put your behaviour under the dominion of canters; never think it clever to call physic a mean study, or law a dry one; or ask a baby of seven years old which way his _genius_ leads him, when we all know that a boy of seven years old has no _genius_ for anything except a pegtop and an apple-pie; but fix on some business where much money may be got, and little virtue risked: follow that business steadily, and do not live as roger ascham says the wits do, 'men know not how; and at last die obscurely, men mark not where.'" dr. johnson had indeed a veneration for the voice of mankind beyond what most people will own; and as he liberally confessed that all his own disappointments proceeded from himself, he hated to hear others complain of general injustice. i remember when lamentation was made of the neglect showed to jeremiah markland, a great philologist, as some one ventured to call him. "he is a scholar, undoubtedly, sir," replied dr. johnson, "but remember that he would run from the world, and that it is not the world's business to run after him. i hate a fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness drives into a corner, and does nothing when he is there but sit and _growl_; let him come out as i do, and _bark_. the world," added he, "is chiefly unjust and ungenerous in this, that all are ready to encourage a man who once talks of leaving it, and few things do really provoke me more than to hear people prate of retirement, when they have neither skill to discern their own motives, or penetration to estimate the consequences. but while a fellow is active to gain either power or wealth," continued he, "everybody produces some hindrance to his advancement, some sage remark, or some unfavourable prediction; but let him once say slightly, i have had enough of this troublesome, bustling world, 'tis time to leave it now: 'ah, dear sir!' cries the first old acquaintance he meets, 'i am glad to find you in this happy disposition: yes, dear friend! _do_ retire and think of nothing but your own ease. there's mr. william will find it a pleasure to settle all your accounts and relieve you from the fatigue; miss dolly makes the charmingest chicken-broth in the world, and the cheesecakes we ate of hers once, how good they were. i will be coming every two or three days myself to chat with you in a quiet way; _so snug_! and tell you how matters go upon 'change, or in the house, or according to the blockhead's first pursuits, whether lucrative or politic, which thus he leaves; and lays himself down a voluntary prey to his own sensuality and sloth, while the ambition and avarice of the nephews and nieces, with their rascally adherents and coadjutors, reap the advantage, while they fatten their fool.'" as the votaries of retirement had little of mr. johnson's applause, unless that he knew that the motives were merely devotional, and unless he was convinced that their rituals were accompanied by a mortified state of the body, the sole proof of their sincerity which he would admit, as a compensation for such fatigue as a worldly life of care and activity requires; so of the various states and conditions of humanity, he despised none more, i think, than the man who marries for a maintenance. and of a friend who made his alliance on no higher principles, he said once, "now has that fellow (it was a nobleman of whom we were speaking) at length obtained a certainty of three meals a day, and for that certainty, like his brother dog in the fable, he will get his neck galled for life with a collar." that poverty was an evil to be avoided by all honest means, however, no man was more ready to avow: concealed poverty particularly, which he said was the general corrosive that destroyed the peace of almost every family; to which no evening perhaps ever returned without some new project for hiding the sorrows and dangers of the next day. "want of money," says dr. johnson, "is sometimes concealed under pretended avarice, and sly hints of aversion to part with it; sometimes under stormy anger, and affectation of boundless rage, but oftener still under a show of thoughtless extravagance and gay neglect, while to a penetrating eye none of these wretched veils suffice to keep the cruel truth from being seen. poverty is hic et ubique," says he, "and if you do shut the jade out of the door, she will always contrive in some manner to poke her pale, lean face in at the window." i have mentioned before that old age had very little of mr. johnson's reverence. "a man commonly grew wickeder as he grew older," he said, "at least he but changed the vices of youth; headstrong passion and wild temerity, for treacherous caution, and desire to circumvent. i am always," said he, "on the young people's side, when there is a dispute between them and the old ones, for you have at least a chance for virtue till age has withered its very root." while we were talking, my mother's spaniel, whom he never loved, stole our toast and butter; "fie, belle!" said i, "you used to be upon honour." "yes, madam," replies johnson, "_but belle grows old_." his reason for hating the dog was, "because she was a professed favourite," he said, "and because her lady ordered her from time to time to be washed and combed, a foolish trick," said he, "and an assumption of superiority that every one's nature revolts at; so because one must not wish ill to the lady in such cases," continued he, "one curses the cur." the truth is, belle was not well behaved, and being a large spaniel, was troublesome enough at dinner with frequent solicitations to be fed. "this animal," said dr. johnson one day, "would have been of extraordinary merit and value in the state of lycurgus; for she condemns one to the exertion of perpetual vigilance." he had, indeed, that strong aversion felt by all the lower ranks of people towards four-footed companions very completely, notwithstanding he had for many years a cat which he called hodge, that kept always in his room at fleet street; but so exact was he not to offend the human species by superfluous attention to brutes, that when the creature was grown sick and old, and could eat nothing but oysters, mr. johnson always went out himself to buy hodge's dinner, that francis the black's delicacy might not be hurt, at seeing himself employed for the convenience of a quadruped. no one was, indeed, so attentive not to offend in all such sort of things as dr. johnson; nor so careful to maintain the ceremonies of life: and though he told mr. thrale once that he had never sought to please till past thirty years old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always studious not to make enemies by apparent preference of himself. it happened very comically that the moment this curious conversation passed, of which i was a silent auditress, was in the coach, in some distant province, either shropshire or derbyshire, i believe; and as soon as it was over, mr. johnson took out of his pocket a little book and read, while a gentleman of no small distinction for his birth and elegance suddenly rode up to the carriage, and paying us all his proper compliments, was desirous not to neglect dr. johnson; but observing that he did not see him, tapped him gently on the shoulder. "'tis mr. ch-lm--- ley," says my husband. "well, sir! and what if it is mr. ch-lm---ley!" says the other, sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again with renewed avidity. he had sometimes fits of reading very violent; and when he was in earnest about getting through some particular pages, for i have heard him say he never read but one book, which he did not consider as obligatory, through in his whole life (and "lady mary wortley's letters," was the book); he would be quite lost to the company, and withdraw all his attention to what he was reading, without the smallest knowledge or care about the noise made round him. his deafness made such conduct less odd and less difficult to him than it would have been to another man: but his advising others to take the same method, and pull a little book out when they were not entertained with what was going forward in society, seemed more likely to advance the growth of science than of polished manners, for which he always pretended extreme veneration. mr. johnson, indeed, always measured other people's notions of everything by his own, and nothing could persuade him to believe that the books which he disliked were agreeable to thousands, or that air and exercise which he despised were beneficial to the health of other mortals. when poor smart, so well known for his wit and misfortunes, was first obliged to be put in private lodgings, a common friend of both lamented in tender terms the necessity which had torn so pleasing a companion from their acquaintance. "a madman must be confined, sir," replies dr. johnson. "but," says the other, "i am now apprehensive for his general health, he will lose the benefit of exercise." "exercise!" returns the doctor, "i never heard that he used any: he might, for aught i know, walk _to_ the alehouse; but i believe he was always _carried_ home again." it was, however, unlucky for those who delighted to echo johnson's sentiments, that he would not endure from them to-day what perhaps he had yesterday, by his own manner of treating the subject, made them fond of repeating; and i fancy mr. b--- has not forgotten that though his friend one evening in a gay humour talked in praise of wine as one of the blessings permitted by heaven, when used with moderation, to lighten the load of life, and give men strength to endure it; yet, when in consequence of such talk he thought fit to make a bacchanalian discourse in its favour, mr. johnson contradicted him somewhat roughly, as i remember; and when, to assure himself of conquest, he added these words: "you must allow me, sir, at least that it produces truth; in vino veritas, you know, sir." "that," replied mr. johnson, "would be useless to a man who knew he was not a liar when he was sober." when one talks of giving and taking the lie familiarly, it is impossible to forbear recollecting the transactions between the editor of "ossian," and the author of the "journey to the hebrides." it was most observable to me, however, that mr. johnson never bore his antagonist the slightest degree of ill-will. he always kept those quarrels which belonged to him as a writer separate from those which he had to do with as a man; but i never did hear him say in private one malicious word of a public enemy; and of mr. macpherson i once heard him speak respectfully, though his reply to the friend who asked him if _any man living_ could have written such a book, is well known, and has been often repeated--"yes, sir, many men, many women, and many children." i inquired of him myself if this story was authentic, and he said it was. i made the same inquiry concerning his account of the state of literature in scotland, which was repeated up and down at one time by everybody--"how knowledge was divided among the scots, like bread in a besieged town, to every man a mouthful, to no man a bellyful." this story he likewise acknowledged, and said, besides, "that some officious friend had carried it to lord bute, who only answered, 'well, well! never mind what he says, he will have the pension all one.'" another famous reply to a scotsman who commended the beauty and dignity of glasgow, till mr. johnson stopped him by observing, "that he probably had never yet seen brentford," was one of the jokes he owned; and said himself "that when a gentleman of that country once mentioned the lovely prospects common in his nation, he could not help telling him that the view of the london road was the prospect in which every scotsman most naturally and most rationally delighted." mrs. brooke received an answer not unlike this, when expatiating on the accumulation of sublime and beautiful objects, which form the fine prospect _up_ the river st. lawrence, in north america. "come, madam," says dr. johnson, "confess that nothing ever equalled your pleasure in seeing that sight reversed; and finding yourself looking at the happy prospect _down_ the river st. lawrence." the truth is, he hated to hear about prospects and views, and laying out ground and taste in gardening. "that was the best garden," he said, "which produced most roots and fruits; and that water was most to be prized which contained most fish." he used to laugh at shenstone most unmercifully for not caring whether there was anything good to _eat_ in the streams he was so fond of, "as if," says johnson, "one could fill one's belly with hearing soft murmurs, or looking at rough cascades!" he loved the sight of fine forest trees, however, and detested brighthelmstone downs, "because it was a country so truly desolate," he said, "that if one had a mind to hang one's self for desperation at being obliged to live there, it would be difficult to find a tree on which to fasten the rope." walking in a wood when it rained was, i think, the only rural image he pleased his fancy with; "for," says he, "after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, one wishes them well baked, and removed to a london eating-house for enjoyment." with such notions, who can wonder he passed his time uncomfortably enough with us, who he often complained of for living so much in the country, "feeding the chickens," as he said i did, "till i starved my own understanding. get, however," said he, "a book about gardening, and study it hard, since you will pass your life with birds and flowers, and learn to raise the _largest_ turnips, and to breed the _biggest_ fowls." it was vain to assure him that the goodness of such dishes did not depend upon their size. he laughed at the people who covered their canals with foreign fowls, "when," says he, "our own geese and ganders are twice as large. if we fetched better animals from distant nations, there might be some sense in the preference; but to get cows from alderney, or water- fowl from china, only to see nature degenerating round one, is a poor ambition indeed." nor was mr. johnson more merciful with regard to the amusements people are contented to call such. "you hunt in the morning," says he, "and crowd to the public rooms at night, and call it _diversion_, when your heart knows it is perishing with poverty of pleasures, and your wits get blunted for want of some other mind to sharpen them upon. there is in this world no real delight (excepting those of sensuality), but exchange of ideas in conversation; and whoever has once experienced the full flow of london talk, when he retires to country friendships, and rural sports, must either be contented to turn baby again and play with the rattle, or he will pine away like a great fish in a little pond, and die for want of his usual food." "books without the knowledge of life are useless," i have heard him say; "for what should books teach but the art of _living_? to study manners, however, only in coffee-houses, is more than equally imperfect; the minds of men who acquire no solid learning, and only exist on the daily forage that they pick up by running about, and snatching what drops from their neighbours as ignorant as themselves, will never ferment into any knowledge valuable or durable; but like the light wines we drink in hot countries, please for the moment, though incapable of keeping. in the study of mankind much will be found to swim as froth, and much must sink as feculence, before the wine can have its effect, and become that noblest liquor which rejoices the heart, and gives vigour to the imagination." i am well aware that i do not and cannot give each expression of dr. johnson with all its force or all its neatness; but i have done my best to record such of his maxims, and repeat such of his sentiments, as may give to those who know him not a just idea of his character and manner of thinking. to endeavour at adorning, or adding, or softening, or meliorating such anecdotes, by any tricks my inexperienced pen could play, would be weakness indeed; worse than the frenchman who presides over the porcelain manufactory at seve, to whom, when some greek vases were given him as models, he lamented la tristesse de telles formes; and endeavoured to assist them by clusters of flowers, while flying cupids served for the handles of urns originally intended to contain the ashes of the dead. the misery is, that i can recollect so few anecdotes, and that i have recorded no more axioms of a man whose every word merited attention, and whose every sentiment did honour to human nature. remote from affectation as from error or falsehood, the comfort a reader has in looking over these papers is the certainty that these were really the opinions of johnson, which are related as such. fear of what others may think is the great cause of affectation; and he was not likely to disguise his notions out of cowardice. he hated disguise, and nobody penetrated it so readily. i showed him a letter written to a common friend, who was at some loss for the explanation of it. "whoever wrote it," says our doctor, "could, if he chose it, make himself understood; but 'tis the letter of an _embarrassed man_ sir;" and so the event proved it to be. mysteriousness in trifles offended him on every side. "it commonly ended in guilt," he said; "for those who begin by concealment of innocent things will soon have something to hide which they dare not bring to light." he therefore encouraged an openness of conduct, in women particularly, "who," he observed, "were often led away when children, by their delight and power of surprising." he recommended, on something like the same principle, that when one person meant to serve another, he should not go about it slily, or as we say, underhand, out of a false idea of delicacy, to surprise one's friend with an unexpected favour, "which, ten to one," says he, "fails to oblige your acquaintance, who had some reasons against such a mode of obligation, which you might have known but for that superfluous cunning which you think an elegance. oh! never be seduced by such silly pretences," continued he; "if a wench wants a good gown, do not give her a fine smelling-bottle, because that is more delicate: as i once knew a lady lend the key of her library to a poor scribbling dependant, as if she took the woman for an ostrich that could digest iron." he said, indeed, "that women were very difficult to be taught the proper manner of conferring pecuniary favours; that they always gave too much money or too little; for that they had an idea of delicacy accompanying their gifts, so that they generally rendered them either useless or ridiculous." he did, indeed, say very contemptuous things of our sex, but was exceedingly angry when i told miss reynolds that he said "it was well managed of some one to leave his affairs in the hands of his wife, because, in matters of business," said he, "no woman stops at integrity." this was, i think, the only sentence i ever observed him solicitous to explain away after he had uttered it. he was not at all displeased at the recollection of a sarcasm thrown on a whole profession at once; when a gentleman leaving the company, somebody who sat next dr. johnson asked him, who he was? "i cannot exactly tell you, sir," replied he, "and i would be loth to speak ill of any person who i do not know deserves it, but i am afraid he is an _attorney_." he did not, however, encourage general satire, and for the most part professed himself to feel directly contrary to dr. swift; "who," says he, "hates the world, though he loves john and robert, and certain individuals." johnson said always, "that the world was well constructed, but that the particular people disgraced the elegance and beauty of the general fabric." in the same manner i was relating once to him how dr. collier observed that the love one bore to children was from the anticipation one's mind made while one contemplated them. "we hope," says he, "that they will sometime make wise men or amiable women; and we suffer 'em to take up our affection beforehand. one cannot love _lumps of flesh_, and little infants are nothing more." "on the contrary," says johnson, "one can scarcely help wishing, while one fondles a baby, that it may never live to become a man; for it is so probable that when he becomes a man, he should be sure to end in a scoundrel." girls were less displeasing to him; "for as their temptations were fewer," he said, "their virtue in this life, and happiness in the next, were less improbable; and he loved," he said, "to see a knot of little misses dearly." needlework had a strenuous approver in dr. johnson, who said "that one of the great felicities of female life was the general consent of the world that they might amuse themselves with petty occupations, which contributed to the lengthening their lives, and preserving their minds in a state of sanity." "a man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief," said a lady of quality to him one day, "and so he runs mad, and torments his family and friends." the expression struck him exceedingly, and when one acquaintance grew troublesome, and another unhealthy, he used to quote lady frances's observation, "that a man cannot hem a pocket-handkerchief." the nice people found no mercy from mr. johnson; such, i mean, as can only dine at four o'clock, who cannot bear to be waked at an unusual hour, or miss a stated meal without inconvenience. _he_ had no such prejudices himself, and with difficulty forgave them in another. "delicacy does not surely consist," says he, "in impossibility to be pleased, and that is false dignity indeed which is content to depend upon others." the saying of the old philosopher who observes, "that he who wants least is most like the gods, who want nothing," was a favourite sentence with dr. johnson, who on his own part required less attendance, sick or well, than ever i saw any human creature. conversation was all he required to make him happy; and when he would have tea made at two o'clock in the morning, it was only that there might be a certainty of detaining his companions round him. on that principle it was that he preferred winter to summer, when the heat of the weather gave people an excuse to stroll about and walk for pleasure in the shade, while he wished to sit still on a chair and chat day after day, till somebody proposed a drive in the coach, and that was the most delicious moment of his life. "but the carriage must stop some time," he said, "and the people would come home at last," so his pleasure was of short duration. i asked him why he doated on a coach so? and received for answer, "that in the first place the company were shut in with him _there_, and could not escape, as out of a room. in the next place, he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be deaf," and very impatient was he at my occasional difficulty of hearing. on this account he wished to travel all over the world, for the very act of going forward was delightful to him, and he gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said never happened. nor did the running away of the horses on the edge of a precipice between vernon and st. denis, in france, convince him to the contrary, "for nothing came of it," he said, "except that mr. thrale leaped out of the carriage into a chalk-pit, and then came up again looking _as white_!" when the truth was, all their lives were saved by the greatest providence ever exerted in favour of three human creatures; and the part mr. thrale took from desperation was the likeliest thing in the world to produce broken limbs and death. fear was indeed a sensation to which mr. johnson was an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden apprehensions seized him that he was going to die, and even then he kept all his wits about him to express the most humble and pathetic petitions to the almighty. and when the first paralytic stroke took his speech from him, he instantly set about composing a prayer in latin, at once to deprecate god's mercy, to satisfy himself that his mental powers remained unimpaired, and to keep them in exercise, that they might not perish by permitted stagnation. this was after we parted; but he wrote me an account of it, and i intend to publish that letter, with many more. when one day he had at my house taken tincture of antimony instead of emetic wine, for a vomit, he was himself the person to direct us what to do for him, and managed with as much coolness and deliberation as if he had been prescribing for an indifferent person. though on another occasion, when he had lamented in the most piercing terms his approaching dissolution, and conjured me solemnly to tell him what i thought, while sir richard jebb was perpetually on the road to streatham, and mr. johnson seemed to think himself neglected if the physician left him for an hour only, i made him a steady, but as i thought a very gentle harangue, in which i confirmed all that the doctor had been saying; how no present danger could be expected, but that his age and continued ill- health must naturally accelerate the arrival of that hour which can be escaped by none. "and this," says johnson, rising in great anger, "is the voice of female friendship, i suppose, when the hand of the hangman would be softer." another day, when he was ill, and exceedingly low-spirited, and persuaded that death was not far distant, i appeared before him in a dark-coloured gown, which his bad sight, and worse apprehensions, made him mistake for an iron-grey. "why do you delight," said he, "thus to thicken the gloom of misery that surrounds me? is not here sufficient accumulation of horror without anticipated mourning?" "this is not mourning, sir," said i, drawing the curtain, that the light might fall upon the silk, and show it was a purple mixed with green. "well, well," replied he, changing his voice, "you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in every way. what! have not all insects gay colours?" i relate these instances chiefly to show that the fears of death itself could not suppress his wit, his sagacity, or his temptation to sudden resentment. mr. johnson did not like that his friends should bring their manuscripts for him to read, and he liked still less to read them when they were brought. sometimes, however, when he could not refuse, he would take the play or poem, or whatever it was, and give the people his opinion from some one page he had peeped into. a gentleman carried him his tragedy, which, because he loved the author, johnson took, and it lay about our rooms some time. "what answer did you give your friend, sir?" said i, after the book had been called for. "i told him," replied he, "that there was too much _tig_ and _tirry_ in it!" seeing me laugh most violently, "why, what would'st have, child?" said he. "i looked at the dramatis, and there was _tig_ranes and _tiri_dates, or teribazus, or such stuff. a man can tell but what he knows, and i never got any farther than the first page. alas, madam!" continued he, "how few books are there of which one ever can possibly arrive at the _last_ page. was there ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, excepting 'don quixote,' 'robinson crusoe,' and the 'pilgrim's progress?'" after homer's iliad, mr. johnson confessed that the work of cervantes was the greatest in the world, speaking of it i mean as a book of entertainment. and when we consider that every other author's admirers are confined to his countrymen, and perhaps to the literary classes among _them_, while "don quixote" is a sort of common property, an universal classic, equally tasted by the court and the cottage, equally applauded in france and england as in spain, quoted by every servant, the amusement of every age from infancy to decrepitude; the first book you see on every shelf, in every shop, where books are sold, through all the states of italy; who can refuse his consent to an avowal of the superiority of cervantes to all other modern writers? shakespeare himself has, till lately, been worshipped only at home, though his plays are now the favourite amusements of vienna; and when i was at padua some months ago, romeo and juliet was acted there under the name of tragedia veronese; while engravers and translators _live_ by the hero of la mancha in every nation, and the sides of miserable inns all over england and france, and i have heard germany too, are adorned with the exploits of don quixote. may his celebrity procure my pardon for a digression in praise of a writer who, through four volumes of the most exquisite pleasantry and genuine humour, has never been seduced to overstep the limits of propriety, has never called in the wretched auxiliaries of obscenity or profaneness; who trusts to nature and sentiment alone, and never misses of that applause which voltaire and sterne labour to produce, while honest merriment bestows her unfading crown upon cervantes. dr. johnson was a great reader of french literature, and delighted exceedingly in boileau's works. moliere, i think, he had hardly sufficient taste of, and he used to condemn me for preferring la bruyere to the duc de rochefoucault, who, he said, was the only gentleman writer who wrote like a professed author. the asperity of his harsh sentences, each of them a sentence of condemnation, used to disgust me, however; though it must be owned that, among the necessaries of human life, a rasp is reckoned one as well as a razor. mr. johnson did not like any one who said they were happy, or who said any one else was so. "it is all cant," he would cry; "the dog knows he is miserable all the time." a friend whom he loved exceedingly, told him on some occasion, notwithstanding, that his wife's sister was _really_ happy, and called upon the lady to confirm his assertion, which she did somewhat roundly, as we say, and with an accent and manner capable of offending mr. johnson, if her position had not been sufficient, without anything more, to put him in very ill-humour. "if your sister-in-law is really the contented being she professes herself, sir," said he, "her life gives the lie to every research of humanity; for she is happy without health, without beauty, without money, and without understanding." this story he told me himself, and when i expressed something of the horror i felt, "the same stupidity," said he, "which prompted her to extol felicity she never felt, hindered her from feeling what shocks you on repetition. i tell you, the woman is ugly and sickly and foolish and poor; and would it not make a man hang himself to hear such a creature say it was happy? "the life of a sailor was also a continual scene of danger and exertion," he said; "and the manner in which time was spent shipboard would make all who saw a cabin envy a gaol." the roughness of the language used on board a man-of-war, where he passed a week on a visit to captain knight, disgusted him terribly. he asked an officer what some place was called, and received for answer, that it was where the loplolly man kept his loplolly, a reply he considered, not unjustly, as disrespectful, gross, and ignorant; for though in the course of these memoirs i have been led to mention dr. johnson's tenderness towards _poor_ people, i do not wish to mislead my readers, and make them think he had any delight in _mean_ manners or coarse expressions. even dress itself, when it resembled that of the vulgar, offended him exceedingly; and when he had condemned me many times for not adorning my children with more show than i thought useful or elegant, i presented a little girl to him who came o'visiting one evening covered with shining ornaments, to see if he would approve of the appearance she made. when they were gone home, "well, sir," said i, "how did you like little miss? i hope she was _fine_ enough." "it was the finery of a beggar," said he, "and you know it was; she looked like a native of cow lane dressed up to be carried to bartholomew fair." his reprimand to another lady for crossing her little child's handkerchief before, and by that operation dragging down its head oddly and unintentionally, was on the same principle. "it is the beggar's fear of cold," said he, "that prevails over such parents, and so they pull the poor thing's head down, and give it the look of a baby that plays about westminster bridge, while the mother sits shivering in a niche." i commended a young lady for her beauty and pretty behaviour one day, however, to whom i thought no objection could have been made. "i saw her," says dr. johnson, "take a pair of scissors in her left hand, though; and for all her father is now become a nobleman, and as you say, excessively rich, i should, were i a youth of quality ten years hence, hesitate between a girl so neglected, and a _negro_." it was indeed astonishing how he _could_ remark such minutenesses with a sight so miserably imperfect; but no accidental position of a ribband escaped him, so nice was his observation, and so rigorous his demands of propriety. when i went with him to lichfield and came downstairs to breakfast at the inn, my dress did not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before he would stir a step with us about the town, saying most satirical things concerning the appearance i made in a riding-habit, and adding, "'tis very strange that such eyes as yours cannot discern propriety of dress. if i had a sight only half as good, i think i should see to the centre." my compliances, however, were of little worth. what really surprised me was the victory he gained over a lady little accustomed to contradiction, who had dressed herself for church at streatham one sunday morning in a manner he did not approve, and to whom he said such sharp and pungent things concerning her hat, her gown, etc., that she hastened to change them, and returning quite another figure received his applause, and thanked him for his reproofs, much to the amazement of her husband, who could scarcely believe his own ears. another lady, whose accomplishments he never denied, came to our house one day covered with diamonds, feathers, etc., and he did not seem inclined to chat with her as usual. i asked him why, when the company was gone. "why, her head looked so like that of a woman who shows puppets," said he, "and her voice so confirmed the fancy, that i could not bear her to-day. when she wears a large cap i can talk to her." when the ladies wore lace trimmings to their clothes he expressed his contempt of the reigning fashion in these terms: "a brussels trimming is like bread sauce," said he, "it takes away the glow of colour from the gown, and gives you nothing instead of it. but sauce was invented to heighten the flavour of our food, and trimming is an ornament to the manteau or it is nothing. learn," said he, "that there is propriety or impropriety in everything how slight soever, and get at the general principles of dress and of behaviour; if you then transgress them you will at least know that they are not observed." all these exactnesses in a man who was nothing less than exact himself made him extremely impracticable as an inmate, though most instructive as companion and useful as a friend. mr. thrale, too, could sometimes overrule his rigidity by saying coldly, "there, there, now we have had enough for one lecture, dr. johnson. we will not be upon education any more till after dinner, if you please," or some such speech. but when there was nobody to restrain his dislikes it was extremely difficult to find anybody with whom he could converse without living always on the verge of a quarrel, or of something too like a quarrel to be pleasing. i came into the room, for example, one evening where he and a gentleman, whose abilities we all respect exceedingly, were sitting. a lady who walked in two minutes before me had blown 'em both into a flame by whispering something to mr. s---d, which he endeavoured to explain away so as not to affront the doctor, whose suspicions were all alive. "and have a care, sir," said he, just as i came in, "the old lion will not bear to be tickled." the other was pale with rage, the lady wept at the confusion she had caused, and i could only say with lady macbeth-- "soh! you've displac'd the mirth, broke the good meeting with most admir'd disorder." such accidents, however, occurred too often, and i was forced to take advantage of my lost lawsuit and plead inability of purse to remain longer in london or its vicinage. i had been crossed in my intentions of going abroad, and found it convenient, for every reason of health, peace, and pecuniary circumstances, to retire to bath, where i knew mr. johnson would not follow me, and where i could for that reason command some little portion of time for my own use, a thing impossible while i remained at streatham or at london, as my hours, carriage, and servants had long been at his command, who would not rise in the morning till twelve o'clock, perhaps, and oblige me to make breakfast for him till the bell rung for dinner, though much displeased if the toilet was neglected, and though much of the time we passed together was spent in blaming or deriding, very justly, my neglect of economy and waste of that money which might make many families happy. the original reason of our connection, his _particularly disordered health and spirits_, had been long at an end, and he had no other ailments than old age and general infirmity, which every professor of medicine was ardently zealous and generally attentive to palliate, and to contribute all in their power for the prolongation of a life so valuable. veneration for his virtue, reverence for his talents, delight in his conversation, and habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seventeen years, made me go on so long with mr. johnson; but the perpetual confinement i will own to have been terrifying in the first years of our friendship and irksome in the last. nor could i pretend to support it without help, when my coadjutor was no more. to the assistance we gave him, the shelter our house afforded to his uneasy fancies, and to the pains we took to soothe or repress them, the world perhaps is indebted for the three political pamphlets, the new edition and correction of his "dictionary," and for the "poets' lives," which he would scarce have lived, i think, and kept his faculties entire to have written, had not incessant care been exerted at the time of his first coming to be our constant guest in the country, and several times after that, when he found himself particularly oppressed with diseases incident to the most vivid and fervent imaginations. i shall for ever consider it as the greatest honour which could be conferred on any one to have been the confidential friend of dr. johnson's health, and to have in some measure, with mr. thrale's assistance, saved from distress at least, if not worse, a mind great beyond the comprehension of common mortals, and good beyond all hope of imitation from perishable beings. many of our friends were earnest that he should write the lives of our famous prose authors; but he never made any answer that i can recollect to the proposal, excepting when sir richard musgrave once was singularly warm about it, getting up and entreating him to set about the work immediately, he coldly replied, "_sit down_, _sir_!" when mr. thrale built the new library at streatham, and hung up over the books the portraits of his favourite friends, that of dr. johnson was last finished, and closed the number. it was almost impossible _not_ to make verses on such an accidental combination of circumstances, so i made the following ones. but as a character written in verse will for the most part be found imperfect as a character, i have therefore written a prose one, with which i mean, not to complete, but to conclude these "anecdotes" of the best and wisest man that ever came within the reach of my personal acquaintance, and i think i might venture to add, that of all or any of my readers:-- gigantic in knowledge, in virtue, in strength, our company closes with johnson at length; so the greeks from the cavern of polypheme past, when wisest, and greatest, ulysses came last. to his comrades contemptuous we see him look down, on their wit and their worth with a general frown. since from science' proud tree the rich fruit he receives, who could shake the whole trunk while they turned a few leaves. his piety pure, his morality nice-- protector of virtue, and terror of vice; in these features religion's firm champion displayed, shall make infidels fear for a modern crusade. while th' inflammable temper, the positive tongue, too conscious of right for endurance of wrong: we suffer from johnson, contented to find, that some notice we gain from so noble a mind; and pardon our hurts, since so often we've found the balm of instruction poured into the wound. 'tis thus for its virtues the chemists extol pure rectified spirit, sublime alcohol; from noxious putrescence, preservative pure, a cordial in health, and in sickness a cure; but exposed to the sun, taking fire at his rays, burns bright to the bottom, and ends in a blaze. it is usual, i know not why, when a character is given, to begin with a description of the person. that which contained the soul of mr. johnson deserves to be particularly described. his stature was remarkably high, and his limbs exceedingly large. his strength was more than common, i believe, and his activity had been greater, i have heard, than such a form gave one reason to expect. his features were strongly marked, and his countenance particularly rugged; though the original complexion had certainly been fair, a circumstance somewhat unusual. his sight was near, and otherwise imperfect; yet his eyes, though of a light grey colour, were so wild, so piercing, and at times so fierce, that fear was, i believe, the first emotion in the hearts of all his beholders. his mind was so comprehensive, that no language but that he used could have expressed its contents; and so ponderous was his language, that sentiments less lofty and less solid than his were would have been encumbered, not adorned by it. mr. johnson was not intentionally, however, a pompous converser; and though he was accused of using big words, as they are called, it was only when little ones would not express his meaning as clearly, or when, perhaps, the elevation of the thought would have been disgraced by a dress less superb. he used to say, "that the size of a man's understanding might always be justly measured by his mirth," and his own was never contemptible. he would laugh at a stroke of genuine humour, or sudden sally of odd absurdity, as heartily and freely as i ever yet saw any man; and though the jest was often such as few felt besides himself, yet his laugh was irresistible, and was observed immediately to produce that of the company, not merely from the notion that it was proper to laugh when he did, but purely out of want of power to forbear it. he was no enemy to splendour of apparel or pomp of equipage. "life," he would say, "is barren enough surely with all her trappings; let us therefore be cautious how we strip her." in matters of still higher moment he once observed, when speaking on the subject of sudden innovation, "he who plants a forest may doubtless cut down a hedge; yet i could wish, methinks, that even he would wait till he sees his young plants grow." with regard to common occurrences, mr. johnson had, when i first knew him, looked on the still-shifting scenes of life till he was weary; for as a mind slow in its own nature, or unenlivened by information, will contentedly read in the same book for twenty times, perhaps, the very act of reading it being more than half the business, and every period being at every reading better understood; while a mind more active or more skilful to comprehend its meaning is made sincerely sick at the second perusal; so a soul like his, acute to discern the truth, vigorous to embrace, and powerful to retain it, soon sees enough of the world's dull prospect, which at first, like that of the sea, pleases by its extent, but soon, like that, too, fatigues from its uniformity; a calm and a storm being the only variations that the nature of either will admit. of mr. johnson's erudition the world has been the judge, and we who produce each a score of his sayings, as proofs of that wit which in him was inexhaustible, resemble travellers who, having visited delhi or golconda, bring home each a handful of oriental pearl to evince the riches of the great mogul. may the public condescend to accept my _ill- strung_ selection with patience at least, remembering only that they are relics of him who was great on all occasions, and, like a cube in architecture, you beheld him on each side, and his size still appeared undiminished. as his purse was ever open to almsgiving, so was his heart tender to those who wanted relief, and his soul susceptible of gratitude, and of every kind impression: yet though he had refined his sensibility he had not endangered his quiet, by encouraging in himself a solicitude about trifles, which he treated with the contempt they deserve. it was well enough known before these sheets were published, that mr. johnson had a roughness in his manner which subdued the saucy, and terrified the meek; this was, when i knew him, the prominent part of a character which few durst venture to approach so nearly; and which was for that reason in many respects grossly and frequently mistaken, and it was perhaps peculiar to him, that the lofty consciousness of his own superiority which animated his looks, and raised his voice in conversation, cast likewise an impenetrable veil over him when he said nothing. his talk, therefore, had commonly the complexion of arrogance, his silence of superciliousness. he was, however, seldom inclined to be silent when any moral or literary question was started; and it was on such occasions that, like the sage in "rasselas," he spoke, and attention watched his lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed his periods; if poetry was talked of, his quotations were the readiest; and had he not been eminent for more solid and brilliant qualities, mankind would have united to extol his extraordinary memory. his manner of repeating deserves to be described, though at the same time it defeats all power of description; but whoever once heard him repeat an ode of horace would be long before they could endure to hear it repeated by another. his equity in giving the character of living acquaintance ought not undoubtedly to be omitted in his own, whence partiality and prejudice were totally excluded, and truth alone presided in his tongue, a steadiness of conduct the more to be commended, as no man had stronger likings or aversions. his veracity was, indeed, from the most trivial to the most solemn occasions, strict, even to severity; he scorned to embellish a story with fictitious circumstances, which, he used to say, took off from its real value. "a story," says johnson, "should be a specimen of life and manners; but if the surrounding circumstances are false, as it is no more a representation of reality, it is no longer worthy our attention." for the rest--that beneficence which during his life increased the comforts of so many may after his death be, perhaps, ungratefully forgotten; but that piety which dictated the serious papers in the "rambler" will be for ever remembered; for ever, i think, revered. that ample repository of religious truth, moral wisdom, and accurate criticism, breathes, indeed, the genuine emanations of its great author's mind, expressed, too, in a style so natural to him, and so much like his common mode of conversing, that i was myself but little astonished when he told me that he had scarcely read over one of those inimitable essays before they went to the press. i will add one or two peculiarities more before i lay down my pen. though at an immeasurable distance from content in the contemplation of his own uncouth form and figure, he did not like another man much the less for being a coxcomb. i mentioned two friends who were particularly fond of looking at themselves in a glass. "they do not surprise me at all by so doing," said johnson; "they see, reflected in that glass, men who have risen from almost the lowest situations in life; one to enormous riches, the other to everything this world can give--rank, fame, and fortune. they see, likewise, men who have merited their advancement by the exertion and improvement of those talents which god had given them; and i see not why they should avoid the mirror." the other singularity i promised to record is this: that though a man of obscure birth himself, his partiality to people of family was visible on every occasion; his zeal for subordination warm even to bigotry; his hatred to innovation, and reverence for the old feudal times, apparent, whenever any possible manner of showing them occurred. i have spoken of his piety, his charity, and his truth, the enlargement of his heart, and the delicacy of his sentiments; and when i search for shadow to my portrait, none can i find but what was formed by pride, differently modified as different occasions showed it; yet never was pride so purified as johnson's, at once from meanness and from vanity. the mind of this man was, indeed, expanded beyond the common limits of human nature, and stored with such variety of knowledge, that i used to think it resembled a royal pleasure ground, where every plant, of every name and nation, flourished in the full perfection of their powers, and where, though lofty woods and falling cataracts first caught the eye, and fixed the earliest attention of beholders, yet neither the trim parterre nor the pleasing shrubbery, nor even the antiquated evergreens, were denied a place in some fit corner of the happy valley. scotland*** transcribed from the edition with the corrections noted in the errata by david price, email ccx @coventry.ac.uk a journey to the western islands of scotland inch keith i had desired to visit the hebrides, or western islands of scotland, so long, that i scarcely remember how the wish was originally excited; and was in the autumn of the year induced to undertake the journey, by finding in mr. boswell a companion, whose acuteness would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation and civility of manners are sufficient to counteract the inconveniences of travel, in countries less hospitable than we have passed. on the eighteenth of august we left edinburgh, a city too well known to admit description, and directed our course northward, along the eastern coast of scotland, accompanied the first day by another gentleman, who could stay with us only long enough to shew us how much we lost at separation. as we crossed the frith of forth, our curiosity was attracted by inch keith, a small island, which neither of my companions had ever visited, though, lying within their view, it had all their lives solicited their notice. here, by climbing with some difficulty over shattered crags, we made the first experiment of unfrequented coasts. inch keith is nothing more than a rock covered with a thin layer of earth, not wholly bare of grass, and very fertile of thistles. a small herd of cows grazes annually upon it in the summer. it seems never to have afforded to man or beast a permanent habitation. we found only the ruins of a small fort, not so injured by time but that it might be easily restored to its former state. it seems never to have been intended as a place of strength, nor was built to endure a siege, but merely to afford cover to a few soldiers, who perhaps had the charge of a battery, or were stationed to give signals of approaching danger. there is therefore no provision of water within the walls, though the spring is so near, that it might have been easily enclosed. one of the stones had this inscription: 'maria reg. .' it has probably been neglected from the time that the whole island had the same king. we left this little island with our thoughts employed awhile on the different appearance that it would have made, if it had been placed at the same distance from london, with the same facility of approach; with what emulation of price a few rocky acres would have been purchased, and with what expensive industry they would have been cultivated and adorned. when we landed, we found our chaise ready, and passed through kinghorn, kirkaldy, and cowpar, places not unlike the small or straggling market- towns in those parts of england where commerce and manufactures have not yet produced opulence. though we were yet in the most populous part of scotland, and at so small a distance from the capital, we met few passengers. the roads are neither rough nor dirty; and it affords a southern stranger a new kind of pleasure to travel so commodiously without the interruption of toll-gates. where the bottom is rocky, as it seems commonly to be in scotland, a smooth way is made indeed with great labour, but it never wants repairs; and in those parts where adventitious materials are necessary, the ground once consolidated is rarely broken; for the inland commerce is not great, nor are heavy commodities often transported otherwise than by water. the carriages in common use are small carts, drawn each by one little horse; and a man seems to derive some degree of dignity and importance from the reputation of possessing a two-horse cart. st. andrews at an hour somewhat late we came to st. andrews, a city once archiepiscopal; where that university still subsists in which philosophy was formerly taught by buchanan, whose name has as fair a claim to immortality as can be conferred by modern latinity, and perhaps a fairer than the instability of vernacular languages admits. we found, that by the interposition of some invisible friend, lodgings had been provided for us at the house of one of the professors, whose easy civility quickly made us forget that we were strangers; and in the whole time of our stay we were gratified by every mode of kindness, and entertained with all the elegance of lettered hospitality. in the morning we rose to perambulate a city, which only history shews to have once flourished, and surveyed the ruins of ancient magnificence, of which even the ruins cannot long be visible, unless some care be taken to preserve them; and where is the pleasure of preserving such mournful memorials? they have been till very lately so much neglected, that every man carried away the stones who fancied that he wanted them. the cathedral, of which the foundations may be still traced, and a small part of the wall is standing, appears to have been a spacious and majestick building, not unsuitable to the primacy of the kingdom. of the architecture, the poor remains can hardly exhibit, even to an artist, a sufficient specimen. it was demolished, as is well known, in the tumult and violence of knox's reformation. not far from the cathedral, on the margin of the water, stands a fragment of the castle, in which the archbishop anciently resided. it was never very large, and was built with more attention to security than pleasure. cardinal beatoun is said to have had workmen employed in improving its fortifications at the time when he was murdered by the ruffians of reformation, in the manner of which knox has given what he himself calls a merry narrative. the change of religion in scotland, eager and vehement as it was, raised an epidemical enthusiasm, compounded of sullen scrupulousness and warlike ferocity, which, in a people whom idleness resigned to their own thoughts, and who, conversing only with each other, suffered no dilution of their zeal from the gradual influx of new opinions, was long transmitted in its full strength from the old to the young, but by trade and intercourse with england, is now visibly abating, and giving way too fast to that laxity of practice and indifference of opinion, in which men, not sufficiently instructed to find the middle point, too easily shelter themselves from rigour and constraint. the city of st. andrews, when it had lost its archiepiscopal pre-eminence, gradually decayed: one of its streets is now lost; and in those that remain, there is silence and solitude of inactive indigence and gloomy depopulation. the university, within a few years, consisted of three colleges, but is now reduced to two; the college of st. leonard being lately dissolved by the sale of its buildings and the appropriation of its revenues to the professors of the two others. the chapel of the alienated college is yet standing, a fabrick not inelegant of external structure; but i was always, by some civil excuse, hindred from entering it. a decent attempt, as i was since told, has been made to convert it into a kind of green-house, by planting its area with shrubs. this new method of gardening is unsuccessful; the plants do not hitherto prosper. to what use it will next be put i have no pleasure in conjecturing. it is something that its present state is at least not ostentatiously displayed. where there is yet shame, there may in time be virtue. the dissolution of st. leonard's college was doubtless necessary; but of that necessity there is reason to complain. it is surely not without just reproach, that a nation, of which the commerce is hourly extending, and the wealth encreasing, denies any participation of its prosperity to its literary societies; and while its merchants or its nobles are raising palaces, suffers its universities to moulder into dust. of the two colleges yet standing, one is by the institution of its founder appropriated to divinity. it is said to be capable of containing fifty students; but more than one must occupy a chamber. the library, which is of late erection, is not very spacious, but elegant and luminous. the doctor, by whom it was shewn, hoped to irritate or subdue my english vanity by telling me, that we had no such repository of books in england. saint andrews seems to be a place eminently adapted to study and education, being situated in a populous, yet a cheap country, and exposing the minds and manners of young men neither to the levity and dissoluteness of a capital city, nor to the gross luxury of a town of commerce, places naturally unpropitious to learning; in one the desire of knowledge easily gives way to the love of pleasure, and in the other, is in danger of yielding to the love of money. the students however are represented as at this time not exceeding a hundred. perhaps it may be some obstruction to their increase that there is no episcopal chapel in the place. i saw no reason for imputing their paucity to the present professors; nor can the expence of an academical education be very reasonably objected. a student of the highest class may keep his annual session, or as the english call it, his term, which lasts seven months, for about fifteen pounds, and one of lower rank for less than ten; in which board, lodging, and instruction are all included. the chief magistrate resident in the university, answering to our vice- chancellor, and to the _rector magnificus_ on the continent, had commonly the title of lord rector; but being addressed only as mr. rector in an inauguratory speech by the present chancellor, he has fallen from his former dignity of style. lordship was very liberally annexed by our ancestors to any station or character of dignity: they said, the lord general, and lord ambassador; so we still say, my lord, to the judge upon the circuit, and yet retain in our liturgy the lords of the council. in walking among the ruins of religious buildings, we came to two vaults over which had formerly stood the house of the sub-prior. one of the vaults was inhabited by an old woman, who claimed the right of abode there, as the widow of a man whose ancestors had possessed the same gloomy mansion for no less than four generations. the right, however it began, was considered as established by legal prescription, and the old woman lives undisturbed. she thinks however that she has a claim to something more than sufferance; for as her husband's name was bruce, she is allied to royalty, and told mr. boswell that when there were persons of quality in the place, she was distinguished by some notice; that indeed she is now neglected, but she spins a thread, has the company of her cat, and is troublesome to nobody. having now seen whatever this ancient city offered to our curiosity, we left it with good wishes, having reason to be highly pleased with the attention that was paid us. but whoever surveys the world must see many things that give him pain. the kindness of the professors did not contribute to abate the uneasy remembrance of an university declining, a college alienated, and a church profaned and hastening to the ground. st. andrews indeed has formerly suffered more atrocious ravages and more extensive destruction, but recent evils affect with greater force. we were reconciled to the sight of archiepiscopal ruins. the distance of a calamity from the present time seems to preclude the mind from contact or sympathy. events long past are barely known; they are not considered. we read with as little emotion the violence of knox and his followers, as the irruptions of alaric and the goths. had the university been destroyed two centuries ago, we should not have regretted it; but to see it pining in decay and struggling for life, fills the mind with mournful images and ineffectual wishes. aberbrothick as we knew sorrow and wishes to be vain, it was now our business to mind our way. the roads of scotland afford little diversion to the traveller, who seldom sees himself either encountered or overtaken, and who has nothing to contemplate but grounds that have no visible boundaries, or are separated by walls of loose stone. from the bank of the tweed to st. andrews i had never seen a single tree, which i did not believe to have grown up far within the present century. now and then about a gentleman's house stands a small plantation, which in scotch is called a policy, but of these there are few, and those few all very young. the variety of sun and shade is here utterly unknown. there is no tree for either shelter or timber. the oak and the thorn is equally a stranger, and the whole country is extended in uniform nakedness, except that in the road between kirkaldy and cowpar, i passed for a few yards between two hedges. a tree might be a show in scotland as a horse in venice. at st. andrews mr. boswell found only one, and recommended it to my notice; i told him that it was rough and low, or looked as if i thought so. this, said he, is nothing to another a few miles off. i was still less delighted to hear that another tree was not to be seen nearer. nay, said a gentleman that stood by, i know but of this and that tree in the county. the lowlands of scotland had once undoubtedly an equal portion of woods with other countries. forests are every where gradually diminished, as architecture and cultivation prevail by the increase of people and the introduction of arts. but i believe few regions have been denuded like this, where many centuries must have passed in waste without the least thought of future supply. davies observes in his account of ireland, that no irishman had ever planted an orchard. for that negligence some excuse might be drawn from an unsettled state of life, and the instability of property; but in scotland possession has long been secure, and inheritance regular, yet it may be doubted whether before the union any man between edinburgh and england had ever set a tree. of this improvidence no other account can be given than that it probably began in times of tumult, and continued because it had begun. established custom is not easily broken, till some great event shakes the whole system of things, and life seems to recommence upon new principles. that before the union the scots had little trade and little money, is no valid apology; for plantation is the least expensive of all methods of improvement. to drop a seed into the ground can cost nothing, and the trouble is not great of protecting the young plant, till it is out of danger; though it must be allowed to have some difficulty in places like these, where they have neither wood for palisades, nor thorns for hedges. our way was over the firth of tay, where, though the water was not wide, we paid four shillings for ferrying the chaise. in scotland the necessaries of life are easily procured, but superfluities and elegancies are of the same price at least as in england, and therefore may be considered as much dearer. we stopped a while at dundee, where i remember nothing remarkable, and mounting our chaise again, came about the close of the day to aberbrothick. the monastery of aberbrothick is of great renown in the history of scotland. its ruins afford ample testimony of its ancient magnificence: its extent might, i suppose, easily be found by following the walls among the grass and weeds, and its height is known by some parts yet standing. the arch of one of the gates is entire, and of another only so far dilapidated as to diversify the appearance. a square apartment of great loftiness is yet standing; its use i could not conjecture, as its elevation was very disproportionate to its area. two corner towers, particularly attracted our attention. mr. boswell, whose inquisitiveness is seconded by great activity, scrambled in at a high window, but found the stairs within broken, and could not reach the top. of the other tower we were told that the inhabitants sometimes climbed it, but we did not immediately discern the entrance, and as the night was gathering upon us, thought proper to desist. men skilled in architecture might do what we did not attempt: they might probably form an exact ground-plot of this venerable edifice. they may from some parts yet standing conjecture its general form, and perhaps by comparing it with other buildings of the same kind and the same age, attain an idea very near to truth. i should scarcely have regretted my journey, had it afforded nothing more than the sight of aberbrothick. montrose leaving these fragments of magnificence, we travelled on to montrose, which we surveyed in the morning, and found it well built, airy, and clean. the townhouse is a handsome fabrick with a portico. we then went to view the english chapel, and found a small church, clean to a degree unknown in any other part of scotland, with commodious galleries, and what was yet less expected, with an organ. at our inn we did not find a reception such as we thought proportionate to the commercial opulence of the place; but mr. boswell desired me to observe that the innkeeper was an englishman, and i then defended him as well as i could. when i had proceeded thus far, i had opportunities of observing what i had never heard, that there are many beggars in scotland. in edinburgh the proportion is, i think, not less than in london, and in the smaller places it is far greater than in english towns of the same extent. it must, however, be allowed that they are not importunate, nor clamorous. they solicit silently, or very modestly, and therefore though their behaviour may strike with more force the heart of a stranger, they are certainly in danger of missing the attention of their countrymen. novelty has always some power, an unaccustomed mode of begging excites an unaccustomed degree of pity. but the force of novelty is by its own nature soon at an end; the efficacy of outcry and perseverance is permanent and certain. the road from montrose exhibited a continuation of the same appearances. the country is still naked, the hedges are of stone, and the fields so generally plowed that it is hard to imagine where grass is found for the horses that till them. the harvest, which was almost ripe, appeared very plentiful. early in the afternoon mr. boswell observed that we were at no great distance from the house of lord monboddo. the magnetism of his conversation easily drew us out of our way, and the entertainment which we received would have been a sufficient recompense for a much greater deviation. the roads beyond edinburgh, as they are less frequented, must be expected to grow gradually rougher; but they were hitherto by no means incommodious. we travelled on with the gentle pace of a scotch driver, who having no rivals in expedition, neither gives himself nor his horses unnecessary trouble. we did not affect the impatience we did not feel, but were satisfied with the company of each other as well riding in the chaise, as sitting at an inn. the night and the day are equally solitary and equally safe; for where there are so few travellers, why should there be robbers. aberdeen we came somewhat late to aberdeen, and found the inn so full, that we had some difficulty in obtaining admission, till mr. boswell made himself known: his name overpowered all objection, and we found a very good house and civil treatment. i received the next day a very kind letter from sir alexander gordon, whom i had formerly known in london, and after a cessation of all intercourse for near twenty years met here professor of physic in the king's college. such unexpected renewals of acquaintance may be numbered among the most pleasing incidents of life. the knowledge of one professor soon procured me the notice of the rest, and i did not want any token of regard, being conducted wherever there was any thing which i desired to see, and entertained at once with the novelty of the place, and the kindness of communication. to write of the cities of our own island with the solemnity of geographical description, as if we had been cast upon a newly discovered coast, has the appearance of very frivolous ostentation; yet as scotland is little known to the greater part of those who may read these observations, it is not superfluous to relate, that under the name of aberdeen are comprised two towns standing about a mile distant from each other, but governed, i think, by the same magistrates. old aberdeen is the ancient episcopal city, in which are still to be seen the remains of the cathedral. it has the appearance of a town in decay, having been situated in times when commerce was yet unstudied, with very little attention to the commodities of the harbour. new aberdeen has all the bustle of prosperous trade, and all the shew of increasing opulence. it is built by the water-side. the houses are large and lofty, and the streets spacious and clean. they build almost wholly with the granite used in the new pavement of the streets of london, which is well known not to want hardness, yet they shape it easily. it is beautiful and must be very lasting. what particular parts of commerce are chiefly exercised by the merchants of aberdeen, i have not inquired. the manufacture which forces itself upon a stranger's eye is that of knit-stockings, on which the women of the lower class are visibly employed. in each of these towns there is a college, or in stricter language, an university; for in both there are professors of the same parts of learning, and the colleges hold their sessions and confer degrees separately, with total independence of one on the other. in old aberdeen stands the king's college, of which the first president was hector boece, or boethius, who may be justly reverenced as one of the revivers of elegant learning. when he studied at paris, he was acquainted with erasmus, who afterwards gave him a public testimony of his esteem, by inscribing to him a catalogue of his works. the stile of boethius, though, perhaps, not always rigorously pure, is formed with great diligence upon ancient models, and wholly uninfected with monastic barbarity. his history is written with elegance and vigour, but his fabulousness and credulity are justly blamed. his fabulousness, if he was the author of the fictions, is a fault for which no apology can be made; but his credulity may be excused in an age, when all men were credulous. learning was then rising on the world; but ages so long accustomed to darkness, were too much dazzled with its light to see any thing distinctly. the first race of scholars, in the fifteenth century, and some time after, were, for the most part, learning to speak, rather than to think, and were therefore more studious of elegance than of truth. the contemporaries of boethius thought it sufficient to know what the ancients had delivered. the examination of tenets and of facts was reserved for another generation. * * * * * boethius, as president of the university, enjoyed a revenue of forty scottish marks, about two pounds four shillings and sixpence of sterling money. in the present age of trade and taxes, it is difficult even for the imagination so to raise the value of money, or so to diminish the demands of life, as to suppose four and forty shillings a year, an honourable stipend; yet it was probably equal, not only to the needs, but to the rank of boethius. the wealth of england was undoubtedly to that of scotland more than five to one, and it is known that henry the eighth, among whose faults avarice was never reckoned, granted to roger ascham, as a reward of his learning, a pension of ten pounds a year. the other, called the marischal college, is in the new town. the hall is large and well lighted. one of its ornaments is the picture of arthur johnston, who was principal of the college, and who holds among the latin poets of scotland the next place to the elegant buchanan. in the library i was shewn some curiosities; a hebrew manuscript of exquisite penmanship, and a latin translation of aristotle's politicks by leonardus aretinus, written in the roman character with nicety and beauty, which, as the art of printing has made them no longer necessary, are not now to be found. this was one of the latest performances of the transcribers, for aretinus died but about twenty years before typography was invented. this version has been printed, and may be found in libraries, but is little read; for the same books have been since translated both by victorius and lambinus, who lived in an age more cultivated, but perhaps owed in part to aretinus that they were able to excel him. much is due to those who first broke the way to knowledge, and left only to their successors the task of smoothing it. in both these colleges the methods of instruction are nearly the same; the lectures differing only by the accidental difference of diligence, or ability in the professors. the students wear scarlet gowns and the professors black, which is, i believe, the academical dress in all the scottish universities, except that of edinburgh, where the scholars are not distinguished by any particular habit. in the king's college there is kept a public table, but the scholars of the marischal college are boarded in the town. the expence of living is here, according to the information that i could obtain, somewhat more than at st. andrews. the course of education is extended to four years, at the end of which those who take a degree, who are not many, become masters of arts, and whoever is a master may, if he pleases, immediately commence doctor. the title of doctor, however, was for a considerable time bestowed only on physicians. the advocates are examined and approved by their own body; the ministers were not ambitious of titles, or were afraid of being censured for ambition; and the doctorate in every faculty was commonly given or sold into other countries. the ministers are now reconciled to distinction, and as it must always happen that some will excel others, have thought graduation a proper testimony of uncommon abilities or acquisitions. the indiscriminate collation of degrees has justly taken away that respect which they originally claimed as stamps, by which the literary value of men so distinguished was authoritatively denoted. that academical honours, or any others should be conferred with exact proportion to merit, is more than human judgment or human integrity have given reason to expect. perhaps degrees in universities cannot be better adjusted by any general rule than by the length of time passed in the public profession of learning. an english or irish doctorate cannot be obtained by a very young man, and it is reasonable to suppose, what is likewise by experience commonly found true, that he who is by age qualified to be a doctor, has in so much time gained learning sufficient not to disgrace the title, or wit sufficient not to desire it. the scotch universities hold but one term or session in the year. that of st. andrews continues eight months, that of aberdeen only five, from the first of november to the first of april. in aberdeen there is an english chapel, in which the congregation was numerous and splendid. the form of public worship used by the church of england is in scotland legally practised in licensed chapels served by clergymen of english or irish ordination, and by tacit connivance quietly permitted in separate congregations supplied with ministers by the successors of the bishops who were deprived at the revolution. we came to aberdeen on saturday august . on monday we were invited into the town-hall, where i had the freedom of the city given me by the lord provost. the honour conferred had all the decorations that politeness could add, and what i am afraid i should not have had to say of any city south of the tweed, i found no petty officer bowing for a fee. the parchment containing the record of admission is, with the seal appending, fastened to a riband and worn for one day by the new citizen in his hat. by a lady who saw us at the chapel, the earl of errol was informed of our arrival, and we had the honour of an invitation to his seat, called slanes castle, as i am told, improperly, from the castle of that name, which once stood at a place not far distant. the road beyond aberdeen grew more stony, and continued equally naked of all vegetable decoration. we travelled over a tract of ground near the sea, which, not long ago, suffered a very uncommon, and unexpected calamity. the sand of the shore was raised by a tempest in such quantities, and carried to such a distance, that an estate was overwhelmed and lost. such and so hopeless was the barrenness superinduced, that the owner, when he was required to pay the usual tax, desired rather to resign the ground. slanes castle, the buller of buchan we came in the afternoon to slanes castle, built upon the margin of the sea, so that the walls of one of the towers seem only a continuation of a perpendicular rock, the foot of which is beaten by the waves. to walk round the house seemed impracticable. from the windows the eye wanders over the sea that separates scotland from norway, and when the winds beat with violence must enjoy all the terrifick grandeur of the tempestuous ocean. i would not for my amusement wish for a storm; but as storms, whether wished or not, will sometimes happen, i may say, without violation of humanity, that i should willingly look out upon them from slanes castle. when we were about to take our leave, our departure was prohibited by the countess till we should have seen two places upon the coast, which she rightly considered as worthy of curiosity, dun buy, and the buller of buchan, to which mr. boyd very kindly conducted us. dun buy, which in erse is said to signify the yellow rock, is a double protuberance of stone, open to the main sea on one side, and parted from the land by a very narrow channel on the other. it has its name and its colour from the dung of innumerable sea-fowls, which in the spring chuse this place as convenient for incubation, and have their eggs and their young taken in great abundance. one of the birds that frequent this rock has, as we were told, its body not larger than a duck's, and yet lays eggs as large as those of a goose. this bird is by the inhabitants named a coot. that which is called coot in england, is here a cooter. upon these rocks there was nothing that could long detain attention, and we soon turned our eyes to the buller, or bouilloir of buchan, which no man can see with indifference, who has either sense of danger or delight in rarity. it is a rock perpendicularly tubulated, united on one side with a high shore, and on the other rising steep to a great height, above the main sea. the top is open, from which may be seen a dark gulf of water which flows into the cavity, through a breach made in the lower part of the inclosing rock. it has the appearance of a vast well bordered with a wall. the edge of the buller is not wide, and to those that walk round, appears very narrow. he that ventures to look downward sees, that if his foot should slip, he must fall from his dreadful elevation upon stones on one side, or into water on the other. we however went round, and were glad when the circuit was completed. when we came down to the sea, we saw some boats, and rowers, and resolved to explore the buller at the bottom. we entered the arch, which the water had made, and found ourselves in a place, which, though we could not think ourselves in danger, we could scarcely survey without some recoil of the mind. the bason in which we floated was nearly circular, perhaps thirty yards in diameter. we were inclosed by a natural wall, rising steep on every side to a height which produced the idea of insurmountable confinement. the interception of all lateral light caused a dismal gloom. round us was a perpendicular rock, above us the distant sky, and below an unknown profundity of water. if i had any malice against a walking spirit, instead of laying him in the red-sea, i would condemn him to reside in the buller of buchan. but terrour without danger is only one of the sports of fancy, a voluntary agitation of the mind that is permitted no longer than it pleases. we were soon at leisure to examine the place with minute inspection, and found many cavities which, as the waterman told us, went backward to a depth which they had never explored. their extent we had not time to try; they are said to serve different purposes. ladies come hither sometimes in the summer with collations, and smugglers make them storehouses for clandestine merchandise. it is hardly to be doubted but the pirates of ancient times often used them as magazines of arms, or repositories of plunder. to the little vessels used by the northern rovers, the buller may have served as a shelter from storms, and perhaps as a retreat from enemies; the entrance might have been stopped, or guarded with little difficulty, and though the vessels that were stationed within would have been battered with stones showered on them from above, yet the crews would have lain safe in the caverns. next morning we continued our journey, pleased with our reception at slanes castle, of which we had now leisure to recount the grandeur and the elegance; for our way afforded us few topics of conversation. the ground was neither uncultivated nor unfruitful; but it was still all arable. of flocks or herds there was no appearance. i had now travelled two hundred miles in scotland, and seen only one tree not younger than myself. bamff we dined this day at the house of mr. frazer of streichton, who shewed us in his grounds some stones yet standing of a druidical circle, and what i began to think more worthy of notice, some forest trees of full growth. at night we came to bamff, where i remember nothing that particularly claimed my attention. the ancient towns of scotland have generally an appearance unusual to englishmen. the houses, whether great or small, are for the most part built of stones. their ends are now and then next the streets, and the entrance into them is very often by a flight of steps, which reaches up to the second story, the floor which is level with the ground being entered only by stairs descending within the house. the art of joining squares of glass with lead is little used in scotland, and in some places is totally forgotten. the frames of their windows are all of wood. they are more frugal of their glass than the english, and will often, in houses not otherwise mean, compose a square of two pieces, not joining like cracked glass, but with one edge laid perhaps half an inch over the other. their windows do not move upon hinges, but are pushed up and drawn down in grooves, yet they are seldom accommodated with weights and pullies. he that would have his window open must hold it with his hand, unless what may be sometimes found among good contrivers, there be a nail which he may stick into a hole, to keep it from falling. what cannot be done without some uncommon trouble or particular expedient, will not often be done at all. the incommodiousness of the scotch windows keeps them very closely shut. the necessity of ventilating human habitations has not yet been found by our northern neighbours; and even in houses well built and elegantly furnished, a stranger may be sometimes forgiven, if he allows himself to wish for fresher air. these diminutive observations seem to take away something from the dignity of writing, and therefore are never communicated but with hesitation, and a little fear of abasement and contempt. but it must be remembered, that life consists not of a series of illustrious actions, or elegant enjoyments; the greater part of our time passes in compliance with necessities, in the performance of daily duties, in the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease, as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small obstacles and frequent interruption. the true state of every nation is the state of common life. the manners of a people are not to be found in the schools of learning, or the palaces of greatness, where the national character is obscured or obliterated by travel or instruction, by philosophy or vanity; nor is public happiness to be estimated by the assemblies of the gay, or the banquets of the rich. the great mass of nations is neither rich nor gay: they whose aggregate constitutes the people, are found in the streets, and the villages, in the shops and farms; and from them collectively considered, must the measure of general prosperity be taken. as they approach to delicacy a nation is refined, as their conveniences are multiplied, a nation, at least a commercial nation, must be denominated wealthy. elgin finding nothing to detain us at bamff, we set out in the morning, and having breakfasted at cullen, about noon came to elgin, where in the inn, that we supposed the best, a dinner was set before us, which we could not eat. this was the first time, and except one, the last, that i found any reason to complain of a scotish table; and such disappointments, i suppose, must be expected in every country, where there is no great frequency of travellers. the ruins of the cathedral of elgin afforded us another proof of the waste of reformation. there is enough yet remaining to shew, that it was once magnificent. its whole plot is easily traced. on the north side of the choir, the chapter-house, which is roofed with an arch of stone, remains entire; and on the south side, another mass of building, which we could not enter, is preserved by the care of the family of gordon; but the body of the church is a mass of fragments. a paper was here put into our hands, which deduced from sufficient authorities the history of this venerable ruin. the church of elgin had, in the intestine tumults of the barbarous ages, been laid waste by the irruption of a highland chief, whom the bishop had offended; but it was gradually restored to the state, of which the traces may be now discerned, and was at last not destroyed by the tumultuous violence of knox, but more shamefully suffered to dilapidate by deliberate robbery and frigid indifference. there is still extant, in the books of the council, an order, of which i cannot remember the date, but which was doubtless issued after the reformation, directing that the lead, which covers the two cathedrals of elgin and aberdeen, shall be taken away, and converted into money for the support of the army. a scotch army was in those times very cheaply kept; yet the lead of two churches must have born so small a proportion to any military expence, that it is hard not to believe the reason alleged to be merely popular, and the money intended for some private purse. the order however was obeyed; the two churches were stripped, and the lead was shipped to be sold in holland. i hope every reader will rejoice that this cargo of sacrilege was lost at sea. let us not however make too much haste to despise our neighbours. our own cathedrals are mouldering by unregarded dilapidation. it seems to be part of the despicable philosophy of the time to despise monuments of sacred magnificence, and we are in danger of doing that deliberately, which the scots did not do but in the unsettled state of an imperfect constitution. those who had once uncovered the cathedrals never wished to cover them again; and being thus made useless, they were, first neglected, and perhaps, as the stone was wanted, afterwards demolished. elgin seems a place of little trade, and thinly inhabited. the episcopal cities of scotland, i believe, generally fell with their churches, though some of them have since recovered by a situation convenient for commerce. thus glasgow, though it has no longer an archbishop, has risen beyond its original state by the opulence of its traders; and aberdeen, though its ancient stock had decayed, flourishes by a new shoot in another place. in the chief street of elgin, the houses jut over the lowest story, like the old buildings of timber in london, but with greater prominence; so that there is sometimes a walk for a considerable length under a cloister, or portico, which is now indeed frequently broken, because the new houses have another form, but seems to have been uniformly continued in the old city. fores. calder. fort george we went forwards the same day to fores, the town to which macbeth was travelling, when he met the weird sisters in his way. this to an englishman is classic ground. our imaginations were heated, and our thoughts recalled to their old amusements. we had now a prelude to the highlands. we began to leave fertility and culture behind us, and saw for a great length of road nothing but heath; yet at fochabars, a seat belonging to the duke of gordon, there is an orchard, which in scotland i had never seen before, with some timber trees, and a plantation of oaks. at fores we found good accommodation, but nothing worthy of particular remark, and next morning entered upon the road, on which macbeth heard the fatal prediction; but we travelled on not interrupted by promises of kingdoms, and came to nairn, a royal burgh, which, if once it flourished, is now in a state of miserable decay; but i know not whether its chief annual magistrate has not still the title of lord provost. at nairn we may fix the verge of the highlands; for here i first saw peat fires, and first heard the erse language. we had no motive to stay longer than to breakfast, and went forward to the house of mr. macaulay, the minister who published an account of st. kilda, and by his direction visited calder castle, from which macbeth drew his second title. it has been formerly a place of strength. the drawbridge is still to be seen, but the moat is now dry. the tower is very ancient: its walls are of great thickness, arched on the top with stone, and surrounded with battlements. the rest of the house is later, though far from modern. we were favoured by a gentleman, who lives in the castle, with a letter to one of the officers at fort george, which being the most regular fortification in the island, well deserves the notice of a traveller, who has never travelled before. we went thither next day, found a very kind reception, were led round the works by a gentleman, who explained the use of every part, and entertained by sir eyre coote, the governour, with such elegance of conversation as left us no attention to the delicacies of his table. of fort george i shall not attempt to give any account. i cannot delineate it scientifically, and a loose and popular description is of use only when the imagination is to be amused. there was every where an appearance of the utmost neatness and regularity. but my suffrage is of little value, because this and fort augustus are the only garrisons that i ever saw. we did not regret the time spent at the fort, though in consequence of our delay we came somewhat late to inverness, the town which may properly be called the capital of the highlands. hither the inhabitants of the inland parts come to be supplied with what they cannot make for themselves: hither the young nymphs of the mountains and valleys are sent for education, and as far as my observation has reached, are not sent in vain. inverness inverness was the last place which had a regular communication by high roads with the southern counties. all the ways beyond it have, i believe, been made by the soldiers in this century. at inverness therefore cromwell, when he subdued scotland, stationed a garrison, as at the boundary of the highlands. the soldiers seem to have incorporated afterwards with the inhabitants, and to have peopled the place with an english race; for the language of this town has been long considered as peculiarly elegant. here is a castle, called the castle of macbeth, the walls of which are yet standing. it was no very capacious edifice, but stands upon a rock so high and steep, that i think it was once not accessible, but by the help of ladders, or a bridge. over against it, on another hill, was a fort built by cromwell, now totally demolished; for no faction of scotland loved the name of cromwell, or had any desire to continue his memory. yet what the romans did to other nations, was in a great degree done by cromwell to the scots; he civilized them by conquest, and introduced by useful violence the arts of peace. i was told at aberdeen that the people learned from cromwell's soldiers to make shoes and to plant kail. how they lived without kail, it is not easy to guess: they cultivate hardly any other plant for common tables, and when they had not kail they probably had nothing. the numbers that go barefoot are still sufficient to shew that shoes may be spared: they are not yet considered as necessaries of life; for tall boys, not otherwise meanly dressed, run without them in the streets; and in the islands the sons of gentlemen pass several of their first years with naked feet. i know not whether it be not peculiar to the scots to have attained the liberal, without the manual arts, to have excelled in ornamental knowledge, and to have wanted not only the elegancies, but the conveniences of common life. literature soon after its revival found its way to scotland, and from the middle of the sixteenth century, almost to the middle of the seventeenth, the politer studies were very diligently pursued. the latin poetry of _deliciae poetarum scotorum_ would have done honour to any nation, at least till the publication of _may's supplement_ the english had very little to oppose. yet men thus ingenious and inquisitive were content to live in total ignorance of the trades by which human wants are supplied, and to supply them by the grossest means. till the union made them acquainted with english manners, the culture of their lands was unskilful, and their domestick life unformed; their tables were coarse as the feasts of eskimeaux, and their houses filthy as the cottages of hottentots. since they have known that their condition was capable of improvement, their progress in useful knowledge has been rapid and uniform. what remains to be done they will quickly do, and then wonder, like me, why that which was so necessary and so easy was so long delayed. but they must be for ever content to owe to the english that elegance and culture, which, if they had been vigilant and active, perhaps the english might have owed to them. here the appearance of life began to alter. i had seen a few women with plaids at aberdeen; but at inverness the highland manners are common. there is i think a kirk, in which only the erse language is used. there is likewise an english chapel, but meanly built, where on sunday we saw a very decent congregation. we were now to bid farewel to the luxury of travelling, and to enter a country upon which perhaps no wheel has ever rolled. we could indeed have used our post-chaise one day longer, along the military road to fort augustus, but we could have hired no horses beyond inverness, and we were not so sparing of ourselves, as to lead them, merely that we might have one day longer the indulgence of a carriage. at inverness therefore we procured three horses for ourselves and a servant, and one more for our baggage, which was no very heavy load. we found in the course of our journey the convenience of having disencumbered ourselves, by laying aside whatever we could spare; for it is not to be imagined without experience, how in climbing crags, and treading bogs, and winding through narrow and obstructed passages, a little bulk will hinder, and a little weight will burthen; or how often a man that has pleased himself at home with his own resolution, will, in the hour of darkness and fatigue, be content to leave behind him every thing but himself. lough ness we took two highlanders to run beside us, partly to shew us the way, and partly to take back from the sea-side the horses, of which they were the owners. one of them was a man of great liveliness and activity, of whom his companion said, that he would tire any horse in inverness. both of them were civil and ready-handed. civility seems part of the national character of highlanders. every chieftain is a monarch, and politeness, the natural product of royal government, is diffused from the laird through the whole clan. but they are not commonly dexterous: their narrowness of life confines them to a few operations, and they are accustomed to endure little wants more than to remove them. we mounted our steeds on the thirtieth of august, and directed our guides to conduct us to fort augustus. it is built at the head of lough ness, of which inverness stands at the outlet. the way between them has been cut by the soldiers, and the greater part of it runs along a rock, levelled with great labour and exactness, near the water-side. most of this day's journey was very pleasant. the day, though bright, was not hot; and the appearance of the country, if i had not seen the peak, would have been wholly new. we went upon a surface so hard and level, that we had little care to hold the bridle, and were therefore at full leisure for contemplation. on the left were high and steep rocks shaded with birch, the hardy native of the north, and covered with fern or heath. on the right the limpid waters of lough ness were beating their bank, and waving their surface by a gentle agitation. beyond them were rocks sometimes covered with verdure, and sometimes towering in horrid nakedness. now and then we espied a little cornfield, which served to impress more strongly the general barrenness. lough ness is about twenty-four miles long, and from one mile to two miles broad. it is remarkable that boethius, in his description of scotland, gives it twelve miles of breadth. when historians or geographers exhibit false accounts of places far distant, they may be forgiven, because they can tell but what they are told; and that their accounts exceed the truth may be justly supposed, because most men exaggerate to others, if not to themselves: but boethius lived at no great distance; if he never saw the lake, he must have been very incurious, and if he had seen it, his veracity yielded to very slight temptations. lough ness, though not twelve miles broad, is a very remarkable diffusion of water without islands. it fills a large hollow between two ridges of high rocks, being supplied partly by the torrents which fall into it on either side, and partly, as is supposed, by springs at the bottom. its water is remarkably clear and pleasant, and is imagined by the natives to be medicinal. we were told, that it is in some places a hundred and forty fathoms deep, a profundity scarcely credible, and which probably those that relate it have never sounded. its fish are salmon, trout, and pike. it was said at fort augustus, that lough ness is open in the hardest winters, though a lake not far from it is covered with ice. in discussing these exceptions from the course of nature, the first question is, whether the fact be justly stated. that which is strange is delightful, and a pleasing error is not willingly detected. accuracy of narration is not very common, and there are few so rigidly philosophical, as not to represent as perpetual, what is only frequent, or as constant, what is really casual. if it be true that lough ness never freezes, it is either sheltered by its high banks from the cold blasts, and exposed only to those winds which have more power to agitate than congeal; or it is kept in perpetual motion by the rush of streams from the rocks that inclose it. its profundity though it should be such as is represented can have little part in this exemption; for though deep wells are not frozen, because their water is secluded from the external air, yet where a wide surface is exposed to the full influence of a freezing atmosphere, i know not why the depth should keep it open. natural philosophy is now one of the favourite studies of the scottish nation, and lough ness well deserves to be diligently examined. the road on which we travelled, and which was itself a source of entertainment, is made along the rock, in the direction of the lough, sometimes by breaking off protuberances, and sometimes by cutting the great mass of stone to a considerable depth. the fragments are piled in a loose wall on either side, with apertures left at very short spaces, to give a passage to the wintry currents. part of it is bordered with low trees, from which our guides gathered nuts, and would have had the appearance of an english lane, except that an english lane is almost always dirty. it has been made with great labour, but has this advantage, that it cannot, without equal labour, be broken up. within our sight there were goats feeding or playing. the mountains have red deer, but they came not within view; and if what is said of their vigilance and subtlety be true, they have some claim to that palm of wisdom, which the eastern philosopher, whom alexander interrogated, gave to those beasts which live furthest from men. near the way, by the water side, we espied a cottage. this was the first highland hut that i had seen; and as our business was with life and manners, we were willing to visit it. to enter a habitation without leave, seems to be not considered here as rudeness or intrusion. the old laws of hospitality still give this licence to a stranger. a hut is constructed with loose stones, ranged for the most part with some tendency to circularity. it must be placed where the wind cannot act upon it with violence, because it has no cement; and where the water will run easily away, because it has no floor but the naked ground. the wall, which is commonly about six feet high, declines from the perpendicular a little inward. such rafters as can be procured are then raised for a roof, and covered with heath, which makes a strong and warm thatch, kept from flying off by ropes of twisted heath, of which the ends, reaching from the center of the thatch to the top of the wall, are held firm by the weight of a large stone. no light is admitted but at the entrance, and through a hole in the thatch, which gives vent to the smoke. this hole is not directly over the fire, lest the rain should extinguish it; and the smoke therefore naturally fills the place before it escapes. such is the general structure of the houses in which one of the nations of this opulent and powerful island has been hitherto content to live. huts however are not more uniform than palaces; and this which we were inspecting was very far from one of the meanest, for it was divided into several apartments; and its inhabitants possessed such property as a pastoral poet might exalt into riches. when we entered, we found an old woman boiling goats-flesh in a kettle. she spoke little english, but we had interpreters at hand; and she was willing enough to display her whole system of economy. she has five children, of which none are yet gone from her. the eldest, a boy of thirteen, and her husband, who is eighty years old, were at work in the wood. her two next sons were gone to inverness to buy meal, by which oatmeal is always meant. meal she considered as expensive food, and told us, that in spring, when the goats gave milk, the children could live without it. she is mistress of sixty goats, and i saw many kids in an enclosure at the end of her house. she had also some poultry. by the lake we saw a potatoe-garden, and a small spot of ground on which stood four shucks, containing each twelve sheaves of barley. she has all this from the labour of their own hands, and for what is necessary to be bought, her kids and her chickens are sent to market. with the true pastoral hospitality, she asked us to sit down and drink whisky. she is religious, and though the kirk is four miles off, probably eight english miles, she goes thither every sunday. we gave her a shilling, and she begged snuff; for snuff is the luxury of a highland cottage. soon afterwards we came to the general's hut, so called because it was the temporary abode of wade, while he superintended the works upon the road. it is now a house of entertainment for passengers, and we found it not ill stocked with provisions. fall of fiers towards evening we crossed, by a bridge, the river which makes the celebrated fall of fiers. the country at the bridge strikes the imagination with all the gloom and grandeur of siberian solitude. the way makes a flexure, and the mountains, covered with trees, rise at once on the left hand and in the front. we desired our guides to shew us the fall, and dismounting, clambered over very rugged crags, till i began to wish that our curiosity might have been gratified with less trouble and danger. we came at last to a place where we could overlook the river, and saw a channel torn, as it seems, through black piles of stone, by which the stream is obstructed and broken, till it comes to a very steep descent, of such dreadful depth, that we were naturally inclined to turn aside our eyes. but we visited the place at an unseasonable time, and found it divested of its dignity and terror. nature never gives every thing at once. a long continuance of dry weather, which made the rest of the way easy and delightful, deprived us of the pleasure expected from the fall of fiers. the river having now no water but what the springs supply, showed us only a swift current, clear and shallow, fretting over the asperities of the rocky bottom, and we were left to exercise our thoughts, by endeavouring to conceive the effect of a thousand streams poured from the mountains into one channel, struggling for expansion in a narrow passage, exasperated by rocks rising in their way, and at last discharging all their violence of waters by a sudden fall through the horrid chasm. the way now grew less easy, descending by an uneven declivity, but without either dirt or danger. we did not arrive at fort augustus till it was late. mr. boswell, who, between his father's merit and his own, is sure of reception wherever he comes, sent a servant before to beg admission and entertainment for that night. mr. trapaud, the governor, treated us with that courtesy which is so closely connected with the military character. he came out to meet us beyond the gates, and apologized that, at so late an hour, the rules of a garrison suffered him to give us entrance only at the postern. fort augustus in the morning we viewed the fort, which is much less than that of st. george, and is said to be commanded by the neighbouring hills. it was not long ago taken by the highlanders. but its situation seems well chosen for pleasure, if not for strength; it stands at the head of the lake, and, by a sloop of sixty tuns, is supplied from inverness with great convenience. we were now to cross the highlands towards the western coast, and to content ourselves with such accommodations, as a way so little frequented could afford. the journey was not formidable, for it was but of two days, very unequally divided, because the only house, where we could be entertained, was not further off than a third of the way. we soon came to a high hill, which we mounted by a military road, cut in traverses, so that as we went upon a higher stage, we saw the baggage following us below in a contrary direction. to make this way, the rock has been hewn to a level with labour that might have broken the perseverance of a roman legion. the country is totally denuded of its wood, but the stumps both of oaks and firs, which are still found, shew that it has been once a forest of large timber. i do not remember that we saw any animals, but we were told that, in the mountains, there are stags, roebucks, goats and rabbits. we did not perceive that this tract was possessed by human beings, except that once we saw a corn field, in which a lady was walking with some gentlemen. their house was certainly at no great distance, but so situated that we could not descry it. passing on through the dreariness of solitude, we found a party of soldiers from the fort, working on the road, under the superintendence of a serjeant. we told them how kindly we had been treated at the garrison, and as we were enjoying the benefit of their labours, begged leave to shew our gratitude by a small present. anoch early in the afternoon we came to anoch, a village in glenmollison of three huts, one of which is distinguished by a chimney. here we were to dine and lodge, and were conducted through the first room, that had the chimney, into another lighted by a small glass window. the landlord attended us with great civility, and told us what he could give us to eat and drink. i found some books on a shelf, among which were a volume or more of prideaux's connection. this i mentioned as something unexpected, and perceived that i did not please him. i praised the propriety of his language, and was answered that i need not wonder, for he had learned it by grammar. by subsequent opportunities of observation, i found that my host's diction had nothing peculiar. those highlanders that can speak english, commonly speak it well, with few of the words, and little of the tone by which a scotchman is distinguished. their language seems to have been learned in the army or the navy, or by some communication with those who could give them good examples of accent and pronunciation. by their lowland neighbours they would not willingly be taught; for they have long considered them as a mean and degenerate race. these prejudices are wearing fast away; but so much of them still remains, that when i asked a very learned minister in the islands, which they considered as their most savage clans: 'those,' said he, 'that live next the lowlands.' as we came hither early in the day, we had time sufficient to survey the place. the house was built like other huts of loose stones, but the part in which we dined and slept was lined with turf and wattled with twigs, which kept the earth from falling. near it was a garden of turnips and a field of potatoes. it stands in a glen, or valley, pleasantly watered by a winding river. but this country, however it may delight the gazer or amuse the naturalist, is of no great advantage to its owners. our landlord told us of a gentleman, who possesses lands, eighteen scotch miles in length, and three in breadth; a space containing at least a hundred square english miles. he has raised his rents, to the danger of depopulating his farms, and he fells his timber, and by exerting every art of augmentation, has obtained an yearly revenue of four hundred pounds, which for a hundred square miles is three halfpence an acre. some time after dinner we were surprised by the entrance of a young woman, not inelegant either in mien or dress, who asked us whether we would have tea. we found that she was the daughter of our host, and desired her to make it. her conversation, like her appearance, was gentle and pleasing. we knew that the girls of the highlands are all gentlewomen, and treated her with great respect, which she received as customary and due, and was neither elated by it, nor confused, but repaid my civilities without embarassment, and told me how much i honoured her country by coming to survey it. she had been at inverness to gain the common female qualifications, and had, like her father, the english pronunciation. i presented her with a book, which i happened to have about me, and should not be pleased to think that she forgets me. in the evening the soldiers, whom we had passed on the road, came to spend at our inn the little money that we had given them. they had the true military impatience of coin in their pockets, and had marched at least six miles to find the first place where liquor could be bought. having never been before in a place so wild and unfrequented, i was glad of their arrival, because i knew that we had made them friends, and to gain still more of their good will, we went to them, where they were carousing in the barn, and added something to our former gift. all that we gave was not much, but it detained them in the barn, either merry or quarrelling, the whole night, and in the morning they went back to their work, with great indignation at the bad qualities of whisky. we had gained so much the favour of our host, that, when we left his house in the morning, he walked by us a great way, and entertained us with conversation both on his own condition, and that of the country. his life seemed to be merely pastoral, except that he differed from some of the ancient nomades in having a settled dwelling. his wealth consists of one hundred sheep, as many goats, twelve milk-cows, and twenty-eight beeves ready for the drover. from him we first heard of the general dissatisfaction, which is now driving the highlanders into the other hemisphere; and when i asked him whether they would stay at home, if they were well treated, he answered with indignation, that no man willingly left his native country. of the farm, which he himself occupied, the rent had, in twenty-five years, been advanced from five to twenty pounds, which he found himself so little able to pay, that he would be glad to try his fortune in some other place. yet he owned the reasonableness of raising the highland rents in a certain degree, and declared himself willing to pay ten pounds for the ground which he had formerly had for five. our host having amused us for a time, resigned us to our guides. the journey of this day was long, not that the distance was great, but that the way was difficult. we were now in the bosom of the highlands, with full leisure to contemplate the appearance and properties of mountainous regions, such as have been, in many countries, the last shelters of national distress, and are every where the scenes of adventures, stratagems, surprises and escapes. mountainous countries are not passed but with difficulty, not merely from the labour of climbing; for to climb is not always necessary: but because that which is not mountain is commonly bog, through which the way must be picked with caution. where there are hills, there is much rain, and the torrents pouring down into the intermediate spaces, seldom find so ready an outlet, as not to stagnate, till they have broken the texture of the ground. of the hills, which our journey offered to the view on either side, we did not take the height, nor did we see any that astonished us with their loftiness. towards the summit of one, there was a white spot, which i should have called a naked rock, but the guides, who had better eyes, and were acquainted with the phenomena of the country, declared it to be snow. it had already lasted to the end of august, and was likely to maintain its contest with the sun, till it should be reinforced by winter. the height of mountains philosophically considered is properly computed from the surface of the next sea; but as it affects the eye or imagination of the passenger, as it makes either a spectacle or an obstruction, it must be reckoned from the place where the rise begins to make a considerable angle with the plain. in extensive continents the land may, by gradual elevation, attain great height, without any other appearance than that of a plane gently inclined, and if a hill placed upon such raised ground be described, as having its altitude equal to the whole space above the sea, the representation will be fallacious. these mountains may be properly enough measured from the inland base; for it is not much above the sea. as we advanced at evening towards the western coast, i did not observe the declivity to be greater than is necessary for the discharge of the inland waters. we passed many rivers and rivulets, which commonly ran with a clear shallow stream over a hard pebbly bottom. these channels, which seem so much wider than the water that they convey would naturally require, are formed by the violence of wintry floods, produced by the accumulation of innumerable streams that fall in rainy weather from the hills, and bursting away with resistless impetuosity, make themselves a passage proportionate to their mass. such capricious and temporary waters cannot be expected to produce many fish. the rapidity of the wintry deluge sweeps them away, and the scantiness of the summer stream would hardly sustain them above the ground. this is the reason why in fording the northern rivers, no fishes are seen, as in england, wandering in the water. of the hills many may be called with homer's ida 'abundant in springs', but few can deserve the epithet which he bestows upon pelion by 'waving their leaves.' they exhibit very little variety; being almost wholly covered with dark heath, and even that seems to be checked in its growth. what is not heath is nakedness, a little diversified by now and then a stream rushing down the steep. an eye accustomed to flowery pastures and waving harvests is astonished and repelled by this wide extent of hopeless sterility. the appearance is that of matter incapable of form or usefulness, dismissed by nature from her care and disinherited of her favours, left in its original elemental state, or quickened only with one sullen power of useless vegetation. it will very readily occur, that this uniformity of barrenness can afford very little amusement to the traveller; that it is easy to sit at home and conceive rocks and heath, and waterfalls; and that these journeys are useless labours, which neither impregnate the imagination, nor enlarge the understanding. it is true that of far the greater part of things, we must content ourselves with such knowledge as description may exhibit, or analogy supply; but it is true likewise, that these ideas are always incomplete, and that at least, till we have compared them with realities, we do not know them to be just. as we see more, we become possessed of more certainties, and consequently gain more principles of reasoning, and found a wider basis of analogy. regions mountainous and wild, thinly inhabited, and little cultivated, make a great part of the earth, and he that has never seen them, must live unacquainted with much of the face of nature, and with one of the great scenes of human existence. as the day advanced towards noon, we entered a narrow valley not very flowery, but sufficiently verdant. our guides told us, that the horses could not travel all day without rest or meat, and intreated us to stop here, because no grass would be found in any other place. the request was reasonable and the argument cogent. we therefore willingly dismounted and diverted ourselves as the place gave us opportunity. i sat down on a bank, such as a writer of romance might have delighted to feign. i had indeed no trees to whisper over my head, but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. the day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude. before me, and on either side, were high hills, which by hindering the eye from ranging, forced the mind to find entertainment for itself. whether i spent the hour well i know not; for here i first conceived the thought of this narration. we were in this place at ease and by choice, and had no evils to suffer or to fear; yet the imaginations excited by the view of an unknown and untravelled wilderness are not such as arise in the artificial solitude of parks and gardens, a flattering notion of self-sufficiency, a placid indulgence of voluntary delusions, a secure expansion of the fancy, or a cool concentration of the mental powers. the phantoms which haunt a desert are want, and misery, and danger; the evils of dereliction rush upon the thoughts; man is made unwillingly acquainted with his own weakness, and meditation shows him only how little he can sustain, and how little he can perform. there were no traces of inhabitants, except perhaps a rude pile of clods called a summer hut, in which a herdsman had rested in the favourable seasons. whoever had been in the place where i then sat, unprovided with provisions and ignorant of the country, might, at least before the roads were made, have wandered among the rocks, till he had perished with hardship, before he could have found either food or shelter. yet what are these hillocks to the ridges of taurus, or these spots of wildness to the desarts of america? it was not long before we were invited to mount, and continued our journey along the side of a lough, kept full by many streams, which with more or less rapidity and noise, crossed the road from the hills on the other hand. these currents, in their diminished state, after several dry months, afford, to one who has always lived in level countries, an unusual and delightful spectacle; but in the rainy season, such as every winter may be expected to bring, must precipitate an impetuous and tremendous flood. i suppose the way by which we went, is at that time impassable. glensheals the lough at last ended in a river broad and shallow like the rest, but that it may be passed when it is deeper, there is a bridge over it. beyond it is a valley called glensheals, inhabited by the clan of macrae. here we found a village called auknasheals, consisting of many huts, perhaps twenty, built all of dry-stone, that is, stones piled up without mortar. we had, by the direction of the officers at fort augustus, taken bread for ourselves, and tobacco for those highlanders who might show us any kindness. we were now at a place where we could obtain milk, but we must have wanted bread if we had not brought it. the people of this valley did not appear to know any english, and our guides now became doubly necessary as interpreters. a woman, whose hut was distinguished by greater spaciousness and better architecture, brought out some pails of milk. the villagers gathered about us in considerable numbers, i believe without any evil intention, but with a very savage wildness of aspect and manner. when our meal was over, mr. boswell sliced the bread, and divided it amongst them, as he supposed them never to have tasted a wheaten loaf before. he then gave them little pieces of twisted tobacco, and among the children we distributed a small handful of halfpence, which they received with great eagerness. yet i have been since told, that the people of that valley are not indigent; and when we mentioned them afterwards as needy and pitiable, a highland lady let us know, that we might spare our commiseration; for the dame whose milk we drank had probably more than a dozen milk-cows. she seemed unwilling to take any price, but being pressed to make a demand, at last named a shilling. honesty is not greater where elegance is less. one of the bystanders, as we were told afterwards, advised her to ask for more, but she said a shilling was enough. we gave her half a crown, and i hope got some credit for our behaviour; for the company said, if our interpreters did not flatter us, that they had not seen such a day since the old laird of macleod passed through their country. the macraes, as we heard afterwards in the hebrides, were originally an indigent and subordinate clan, and having no farms nor stock, were in great numbers servants to the maclellans, who, in the war of charles the first, took arms at the call of the heroic montrose, and were, in one of his battles, almost all destroyed. the women that were left at home, being thus deprived of their husbands, like the scythian ladies of old, married their servants, and the macraes became a considerable race. the highlands as we continued our journey, we were at leisure to extend our speculations, and to investigate the reason of those peculiarities by which such rugged regions as these before us are generally distinguished. mountainous countries commonly contain the original, at least the oldest race of inhabitants, for they are not easily conquered, because they must be entered by narrow ways, exposed to every power of mischief from those that occupy the heights; and every new ridge is a new fortress, where the defendants have again the same advantages. if the assailants either force the strait, or storm the summit, they gain only so much ground; their enemies are fled to take possession of the next rock, and the pursuers stand at gaze, knowing neither where the ways of escape wind among the steeps, nor where the bog has firmness to sustain them: besides that, mountaineers have an agility in climbing and descending distinct from strength or courage, and attainable only by use. if the war be not soon concluded, the invaders are dislodged by hunger; for in those anxious and toilsome marches, provisions cannot easily be carried, and are never to be found. the wealth of mountains is cattle, which, while the men stand in the passes, the women drive away. such lands at last cannot repay the expence of conquest, and therefore perhaps have not been so often invaded by the mere ambition of dominion; as by resentment of robberies and insults, or the desire of enjoying in security the more fruitful provinces. as mountains are long before they are conquered, they are likewise long before they are civilized. men are softened by intercourse mutually profitable, and instructed by comparing their own notions with those of others. thus caesar found the maritime parts of britain made less barbarous by their commerce with the gauls. into a barren and rough tract no stranger is brought either by the hope of gain or of pleasure. the inhabitants having neither commodities for sale, nor money for purchase, seldom visit more polished places, or if they do visit them, seldom return. it sometimes happens that by conquest, intermixture, or gradual refinement, the cultivated parts of a country change their language. the mountaineers then become a distinct nation, cut off by dissimilitude of speech from conversation with their neighbours. thus in biscay, the original cantabrian, and in dalecarlia, the old swedish still subsists. thus wales and the highlands speak the tongue of the first inhabitants of britain, while the other parts have received first the saxon, and in some degree afterwards the french, and then formed a third language between them. that the primitive manners are continued where the primitive language is spoken, no nation will desire me to suppose, for the manners of mountaineers are commonly savage, but they are rather produced by their situation than derived from their ancestors. such seems to be the disposition of man, that whatever makes a distinction produces rivalry. england, before other causes of enmity were found, was disturbed for some centuries by the contests of the northern and southern counties; so that at oxford, the peace of study could for a long time be preserved only by chusing annually one of the proctors from each side of the trent. a tract intersected by many ridges of mountains, naturally divides its inhabitants into petty nations, which are made by a thousand causes enemies to each other. each will exalt its own chiefs, each will boast the valour of its men, or the beauty of its women, and every claim of superiority irritates competition; injuries will sometimes be done, and be more injuriously defended; retaliation will sometimes be attempted, and the debt exacted with too much interest. in the highlands it was a law, that if a robber was sheltered from justice, any man of the same clan might be taken in his place. this was a kind of irregular justice, which, though necessary in savage times, could hardly fail to end in a feud, and a feud once kindled among an idle people with no variety of pursuits to divert their thoughts, burnt on for ages either sullenly glowing in secret mischief, or openly blazing into public violence. of the effects of this violent judicature, there are not wanting memorials. the cave is now to be seen to which one of the campbells, who had injured the macdonalds, retired with a body of his own clan. the macdonalds required the offender, and being refused, made a fire at the mouth of the cave, by which he and his adherents were suffocated together. mountaineers are warlike, because by their feuds and competitions they consider themselves as surrounded with enemies, and are always prepared to repel incursions, or to make them. like the greeks in their unpolished state, described by thucydides, the highlanders, till lately, went always armed, and carried their weapons to visits, and to church. mountaineers are thievish, because they are poor, and having neither manufactures nor commerce, can grow richer only by robbery. they regularly plunder their neighbours, for their neighbours are commonly their enemies; and having lost that reverence for property, by which the order of civil life is preserved, soon consider all as enemies, whom they do not reckon as friends, and think themselves licensed to invade whatever they are not obliged to protect. by a strict administration of the laws, since the laws have been introduced into the highlands, this disposition to thievery is very much represt. thirty years ago no herd had ever been conducted through the mountains, without paying tribute in the night, to some of the clans; but cattle are now driven, and passengers travel without danger, fear, or molestation. among a warlike people, the quality of highest esteem is personal courage, and with the ostentatious display of courage are closely connected promptitude of offence and quickness of resentment. the highlanders, before they were disarmed, were so addicted to quarrels, that the boys used to follow any publick procession or ceremony, however festive, or however solemn, in expectation of the battle, which was sure to happen before the company dispersed. mountainous regions are sometimes so remote from the seat of government, and so difficult of access, that they are very little under the influence of the sovereign, or within the reach of national justice. law is nothing without power; and the sentence of a distant court could not be easily executed, nor perhaps very safely promulgated, among men ignorantly proud and habitually violent, unconnected with the general system, and accustomed to reverence only their own lords. it has therefore been necessary to erect many particular jurisdictions, and commit the punishment of crimes, and the decision of right to the proprietors of the country who could enforce their own decrees. it immediately appears that such judges will be often ignorant, and often partial; but in the immaturity of political establishments no better expedient could be found. as government advances towards perfection, provincial judicature is perhaps in every empire gradually abolished. those who had thus the dispensation of law, were by consequence themselves lawless. their vassals had no shelter from outrages and oppressions; but were condemned to endure, without resistance, the caprices of wantonness, and the rage of cruelty. in the highlands, some great lords had an hereditary jurisdiction over counties; and some chieftains over their own lands; till the final conquest of the highlands afforded an opportunity of crushing all the local courts, and of extending the general benefits of equal law to the low and the high, in the deepest recesses and obscurest corners. while the chiefs had this resemblance of royalty, they had little inclination to appeal, on any question, to superior judicatures. a claim of lands between two powerful lairds was decided like a contest for dominion between sovereign powers. they drew their forces into the field, and right attended on the strongest. this was, in ruder times, the common practice, which the kings of scotland could seldom control. even so lately as in the last years of king william, a battle was fought at mull roy, on a plain a few miles to the south of inverness, between the clans of mackintosh and macdonald of keppoch. col. macdonald, the head of a small clan, refused to pay the dues demanded from him by mackintosh, as his superior lord. they disdained the interposition of judges and laws, and calling each his followers to maintain the dignity of the clan, fought a formal battle, in which several considerable men fell on the side of mackintosh, without a complete victory to either. this is said to have been the last open war made between the clans by their own authority. the highland lords made treaties, and formed alliances, of which some traces may still be found, and some consequences still remain as lasting evidences of petty regality. the terms of one of these confederacies were, that each should support the other in the right, or in the wrong, except against the king. the inhabitants of mountains form distinct races, and are careful to preserve their genealogies. men in a small district necessarily mingle blood by intermarriages, and combine at last into one family, with a common interest in the honour and disgrace of every individual. then begins that union of affections, and co-operation of endeavours, that constitute a clan. they who consider themselves as ennobled by their family, will think highly of their progenitors, and they who through successive generations live always together in the same place, will preserve local stories and hereditary prejudices. thus every highlander can talk of his ancestors, and recount the outrages which they suffered from the wicked inhabitants of the next valley. such are the effects of habitation among mountains, and such were the qualities of the highlanders, while their rocks secluded them from the rest of mankind, and kept them an unaltered and discriminated race. they are now losing their distinction, and hastening to mingle with the general community. glenelg we left auknasheals and the macraes its the afternoon, and in the evening came to ratiken, a high hill on which a road is cut, but so steep and narrow, that it is very difficult. there is now a design of making another way round the bottom. upon one of the precipices, my horse, weary with the steepness of the rise, staggered a little, and i called in haste to the highlander to hold him. this was the only moment of my journey, in which i thought myself endangered. having surmounted the hill at last, we were told that at glenelg, on the sea-side, we should come to a house of lime and slate and glass. this image of magnificence raised our expectation. at last we came to our inn weary and peevish, and began to inquire for meat and beds. of the provisions the negative catalogue was very copious. here was no meat, no milk, no bread, no eggs, no wine. we did not express much satisfaction. here however we were to stay. whisky we might have, and i believe at last they caught a fowl and killed it. we had some bread, and with that we prepared ourselves to be contented, when we had a very eminent proof of highland hospitality. along some miles of the way, in the evening, a gentleman's servant had kept us company on foot with very little notice on our part. he left us near glenelg, and we thought on him no more till he came to us again, in about two hours, with a present from his master of rum and sugar. the man had mentioned his company, and the gentleman, whose name, i think, is gordon, well knowing the penury of the place, had this attention to two men, whose names perhaps he had not heard, by whom his kindness was not likely to be ever repaid, and who could be recommended to him only by their necessities. we were now to examine our lodging. out of one of the beds, on which we were to repose, started up, at our entrance, a man black as a cyclops from the forge. other circumstances of no elegant recital concurred to disgust us. we had been frighted by a lady at edinburgh, with discouraging representations of highland lodgings. sleep, however, was necessary. our highlanders had at last found some hay, with which the inn could not supply them. i directed them to bring a bundle into the room, and slept upon it in my riding coat. mr. boswell being more delicate, laid himself sheets with hay over and under him, and lay in linen like a gentleman. sky. armidel in the morning, september the second, we found ourselves on the edge of the sea. having procured a boat, we dismissed our highlanders, whom i would recommend to the service of any future travellers, and were ferried over to the isle of sky. we landed at armidel, where we were met on the sands by sir alexander macdonald, who was at that time there with his lady, preparing to leave the island and reside at edinburgh. armidel is a neat house, built where the macdonalds had once a seat, which was burnt in the commotions that followed the revolution. the walled orchard, which belonged to the former house, still remains. it is well shaded by tall ash trees, of a species, as mr. janes the fossilist informed me, uncommonly valuable. this plantation is very properly mentioned by dr. campbell, in his new account of the state of britain, and deserves attention; because it proves that the present nakedness of the hebrides is not wholly the fault of nature. as we sat at sir alexander's table, we were entertained, according to the ancient usage of the north, with the melody of the bagpipe. everything in those countries has its history. as the bagpiper was playing, an elderly gentleman informed us, that in some remote time, the macdonalds of glengary having been injured, or offended by the inhabitants of culloden, and resolving to have justice or vengeance, came to culloden on a sunday, where finding their enemies at worship, they shut them up in the church, which they set on fire; and this, said he, is the tune that the piper played while they were burning. narrations like this, however uncertain, deserve the notice of the traveller, because they are the only records of a nation that has no historians, and afford the most genuine representation of the life and character of the ancient highlanders. under the denomination of highlander are comprehended in scotland all that now speak the erse language, or retain the primitive manners, whether they live among the mountains or in the islands; and in that sense i use the name, when there is not some apparent reason for making a distinction. in sky i first observed the use of brogues, a kind of artless shoes, stitched with thongs so loosely, that though they defend the foot from stones, they do not exclude water. brogues were formerly made of raw hides, with the hair inwards, and such are perhaps still used in rude and remote parts; but they are said not to last above two days. where life is somewhat improved, they are now made of leather tanned with oak bark, as in other places, or with the bark of birch, or roots of tormentil, a substance recommended in defect of bark, about forty years ago, to the irish tanners, by one to whom the parliament of that kingdom voted a reward. the leather of sky is not completely penetrated by vegetable matter, and therefore cannot be very durable. my inquiries about brogues, gave me an early specimen of highland information. one day i was told, that to make brogues was a domestick art, which every man practised for himself, and that a pair of brogues was the work of an hour. i supposed that the husband made brogues as the wife made an apron, till next day it was told me, that a brogue-maker was a trade, and that a pair would cost half a crown. it will easily occur that these representations may both be true, and that, in some places, men may buy them, and in others, make them for themselves; but i had both the accounts in the same house within two days. many of my subsequent inquiries upon more interesting topicks ended in the like uncertainty. he that travels in the highlands may easily saturate his soul with intelligence, if he will acquiesce in the first account. the highlander gives to every question an answer so prompt and peremptory, that skepticism itself is dared into silence, and the mind sinks before the bold reporter in unresisting credulity; but, if a second question be ventured, it breaks the enchantment; for it is immediately discovered, that what was told so confidently was told at hazard, and that such fearlessness of assertion was either the sport of negligence, or the refuge of ignorance. if individuals are thus at variance with themselves, it can be no wonder that the accounts of different men are contradictory. the traditions of an ignorant and savage people have been for ages negligently heard, and unskilfully related. distant events must have been mingled together, and the actions of one man given to another. these, however, are deficiencies in story, for which no man is now to be censured. it were enough, if what there is yet opportunity of examining were accurately inspected, and justly represented; but such is the laxity of highland conversation, that the inquirer is kept in continual suspense, and by a kind of intellectual retrogradation, knows less as he hears more. in the islands the plaid is rarely worn. the law by which the highlanders have been obliged to change the form of their dress, has, in all the places that we have visited, been universally obeyed. i have seen only one gentleman completely clothed in the ancient habit, and by him it was worn only occasionally and wantonly. the common people do not think themselves under any legal necessity of having coats; for they say that the law against plaids was made by lord hardwicke, and was in force only for his life: but the same poverty that made it then difficult for them to change their clothing, hinders them now from changing it again. the fillibeg, or lower garment, is still very common, and the bonnet almost universal; but their attire is such as produces, in a sufficient degree, the effect intended by the law, of abolishing the dissimilitude of appearance between the highlanders and the other inhabitants of britain; and, if dress be supposed to have much influence, facilitates their coalition with their fellow-subjects. what we have long used we naturally like, and therefore the highlanders were unwilling to lay aside their plaid, which yet to an unprejudiced spectator must appear an incommodious and cumbersome dress; for hanging loose upon the body, it must flutter in a quick motion, or require one of the hands to keep it close. the romans always laid aside the gown when they had anything to do. it was a dress so unsuitable to war, that the same word which signified a gown signified peace. the chief use of a plaid seems to be this, that they could commodiously wrap themselves in it, when they were obliged to sleep without a better cover. in our passage from scotland to sky, we were wet for the first time with a shower. this was the beginning of the highland winter, after which we were told that a succession of three dry days was not to be expected for many months. the winter of the hebrides consists of little more than rain and wind. as they are surrounded by an ocean never frozen, the blasts that come to them over the water are too much softened to have the power of congelation. the salt loughs, or inlets of the sea, which shoot very far into the island, never have any ice upon them, and the pools of fresh water will never bear the walker. the snow that sometimes falls, is soon dissolved by the air, or the rain. this is not the description of a cruel climate, yet the dark months are here a time of great distress; because the summer can do little more than feed itself, and winter comes with its cold and its scarcity upon families very slenderly provided. coriatachan in sky the third or fourth day after our arrival at armidel, brought us an invitation to the isle of raasay, which lies east of sky. it is incredible how soon the account of any event is propagated in these narrow countries by the love of talk, which much leisure produces, and the relief given to the mind in the penury of insular conversation by a new topick. the arrival of strangers at a place so rarely visited, excites rumour, and quickens curiosity. i know not whether we touched at any corner, where fame had not already prepared us a reception. to gain a commodious passage to raasay, it was necessary to pass over a large part of sky. we were furnished therefore with horses and a guide. in the islands there are no roads, nor any marks by which a stranger may find his way. the horseman has always at his side a native of the place, who, by pursuing game, or tending cattle, or being often employed in messages or conduct, has learned where the ridge of the hill has breadth sufficient to allow a horse and his rider a passage, and where the moss or bog is hard enough to bear them. the bogs are avoided as toilsome at least, if not unsafe, and therefore the journey is made generally from precipice to precipice; from which if the eye ventures to look down, it sees below a gloomy cavity, whence the rush of water is sometimes heard. but there seems to be in all this more alarm than danger. the highlander walks carefully before, and the horse, accustomed to the ground, follows him with little deviation. sometimes the hill is too steep for the horseman to keep his seat, and sometimes the moss is too tremulous to bear the double weight of horse and man. the rider then dismounts, and all shift as they can. journies made in this manner are rather tedious than long. a very few miles require several hours. from armidel we came at night to coriatachan, a house very pleasantly situated between two brooks, with one of the highest hills of the island behind it. it is the residence of mr. mackinnon, by whom we were treated with very liberal hospitality, among a more numerous and elegant company than it could have been supposed easy to collect. the hill behind the house we did not climb. the weather was rough, and the height and steepness discouraged us. we were told that there is a cairne upon it. a cairne is a heap of stones thrown upon the grave of one eminent for dignity of birth, or splendour of atchievements. it is said that by digging, an urn is always found under these cairnes: they must therefore have been thus piled by a people whose custom was to burn the dead. to pile stones is, i believe, a northern custom, and to burn the body was the roman practice; nor do i know when it was that these two acts of sepulture were united. the weather was next day too violent for the continuation of our journey; but we had no reason to complain of the interruption. we saw in every place, what we chiefly desired to know, the manners of the people. we had company, and, if we had chosen retirement, we might have had books. i never was in any house of the islands, where i did not find books in more languages than one, if i staid long enough to want them, except one from which the family was removed. literature is not neglected by the higher rank of the hebridians. it need not, i suppose, be mentioned, that in countries so little frequented as the islands, there are no houses where travellers are entertained for money. he that wanders about these wilds, either procures recommendations to those whose habitations lie near his way, or, when night and weariness come upon him, takes the chance of general hospitality. if he finds only a cottage, he can expect little more than shelter; for the cottagers have little more for themselves: but if his good fortune brings him to the residence of a gentleman, he will be glad of a storm to prolong his stay. there is, however, one inn by the sea- side at sconsor, in sky, where the post-office is kept. at the tables where a stranger is received, neither plenty nor delicacy is wanting. a tract of land so thinly inhabited, must have much wild- fowl; and i scarcely remember to have seen a dinner without them. the moorgame is every where to be had. that the sea abounds with fish, needs not be told, for it supplies a great part of europe. the isle of sky has stags and roebucks, but no hares. they sell very numerous droves of oxen yearly to england, and therefore cannot be supposed to want beef at home. sheep and goats are in great numbers, and they have the common domestick fowls. but as here is nothing to be bought, every family must kill its own meat, and roast part of it somewhat sooner than apicius would prescribe. every kind of flesh is undoubtedly excelled by the variety and emulation of english markets; but that which is not best may be yet very far from bad, and he that shall complain of his fare in the hebrides, has improved his delicacy more than his manhood. their fowls are not like those plumped for sale by the poulterers of london, but they are as good as other places commonly afford, except that the geese, by feeding in the sea, have universally a fishy rankness. these geese seem to be of a middle race, between the wild and domestick kinds. they are so tame as to own a home, and so wild as sometimes to fly quite away. their native bread is made of oats, or barley. of oatmeal they spread very thin cakes, coarse and hard, to which unaccustomed palates are not easily reconciled. the barley cakes are thicker and softer; i began to eat them without unwillingness; the blackness of their colour raises some dislike, but the taste is not disagreeable. in most houses there is wheat flower, with which we were sure to be treated, if we staid long enough to have it kneaded and baked. as neither yeast nor leaven are used among them, their bread of every kind is unfermented. they make only cakes, and never mould a loaf. a man of the hebrides, for of the women's diet i can give no account, as soon as he appears in the morning, swallows a glass of whisky; yet they are not a drunken race, at least i never was present at much intemperance; but no man is so abstemious as to refuse the morning dram, which they call a skalk. the word whisky signifies water, and is applied by way of eminence to strong water, or distilled liquor. the spirit drunk in the north is drawn from barley. i never tasted it, except once for experiment at the inn in inverary, when i thought it preferable to any english malt brandy. it was strong, but not pungent, and was free from the empyreumatick taste or smell. what was the process i had no opportunity of inquiring, nor do i wish to improve the art of making poison pleasant. not long after the dram, may be expected the breakfast, a meal in which the scots, whether of the lowlands or mountains, must be confessed to excel us. the tea and coffee are accompanied not only with butter, but with honey, conserves, and marmalades. if an epicure could remove by a wish, in quest of sensual gratifications, wherever he had supped he would breakfast in scotland. in the islands however, they do what i found it not very easy to endure. they pollute the tea-table by plates piled with large slices of cheshire cheese, which mingles its less grateful odours with the fragrance of the tea. where many questions are to be asked, some will be omitted. i forgot to inquire how they were supplied with so much exotic luxury. perhaps the french may bring them wine for wool, and the dutch give them tea and coffee at the fishing season, in exchange for fresh provision. their trade is unconstrained; they pay no customs, for there is no officer to demand them; whatever therefore is made dear only by impost, is obtained here at an easy rate. a dinner in the western islands differs very little from a dinner in england, except that in the place of tarts, there are always set different preparations of milk. this part of their diet will admit some improvement. though they have milk, and eggs, and sugar, few of them know how to compound them in a custard. their gardens afford them no great variety, but they have always some vegetables on the table. potatoes at least are never wanting, which, though they have not known them long, are now one of the principal parts of their food. they are not of the mealy, but the viscous kind. their more elaborate cookery, or made dishes, an englishman at the first taste is not likely to approve, but the culinary compositions of every country are often such as become grateful to other nations only by degrees; though i have read a french author, who, in the elation of his heart, says, that french cookery pleases all foreigners, but foreign cookery never satisfies a frenchman. their suppers are, like their dinners, various and plentiful. the table is always covered with elegant linen. their plates for common use are often of that kind of manufacture which is called cream coloured, or queen's ware. they use silver on all occasions where it is common in england, nor did i ever find the spoon of horn, but in one house. the knives are not often either very bright, or very sharp. they are indeed instruments of which the highlanders have not been long acquainted with the general use. they were not regularly laid on the table, before the prohibition of arms, and the change of dress. thirty years ago the highlander wore his knife as a companion to his dirk or dagger, and when the company sat down to meat, the men who had knives, cut the flesh into small pieces for the women, who with their fingers conveyed it to their mouths. there was perhaps never any change of national manners so quick, so great, and so general, as that which has operated in the highlands, by the last conquest, and the subsequent laws. we came thither too late to see what we expected, a people of peculiar appearance, and a system of antiquated life. the clans retain little now of their original character, their ferocity of temper is softened, their military ardour is extinguished, their dignity of independence is depressed, their contempt of government subdued, and the reverence for their chiefs abated. of what they had before the late conquest of their country, there remain only their language and their poverty. their language is attacked on every side. schools are erected, in which english only is taught, and there were lately some who thought it reasonable to refuse them a version of the holy scriptures, that they might have no monument of their mother- tongue. that their poverty is gradually abated, cannot be mentioned among the unpleasing consequences of subjection. they are now acquainted with money, and the possibility of gain will by degrees make them industrious. such is the effect of the late regulations, that a longer journey than to the highlands must be taken by him whose curiosity pants for savage virtues and barbarous grandeur. raasay at the first intermission of the stormy weather we were informed, that the boat, which was to convey us to raasay, attended us on the coast. we had from this time our intelligence facilitated, and our conversation enlarged, by the company of mr. macqueen, minister of a parish in sky, whose knowledge and politeness give him a title equally to kindness and respect, and who, from this time, never forsook us till we were preparing to leave sky, and the adjacent places. the boat was under the direction of mr. malcolm macleod, a gentleman of raasay. the water was calm, and the rowers were vigorous; so that our passage was quick and pleasant. when we came near the island, we saw the laird's house, a neat modern fabrick, and found mr. macleod, the proprietor of the island, with many gentlemen, expecting us on the beach. we had, as at all other places, some difficulty in landing. the craggs were irregularly broken, and a false step would have been very mischievous. it seemed that the rocks might, with no great labour, have been hewn almost into a regular flight of steps; and as there are no other landing places, i considered this rugged ascent as the consequence of a form of life inured to hardships, and therefore not studious of nice accommodations. but i know not whether, for many ages, it was not considered as a part of military policy, to keep the country not easily accessible. the rocks are natural fortifications, and an enemy climbing with difficulty, was easily destroyed by those who stood high above him. our reception exceeded our expectations. we found nothing but civility, elegance, and plenty. after the usual refreshments, and the usual conversation, the evening came upon us. the carpet was then rolled off the floor; the musician was called, and the whole company was invited to dance, nor did ever fairies trip with greater alacrity. the general air of festivity, which predominated in this place, so far remote from all those regions which the mind has been used to contemplate as the mansions of pleasure, struck the imagination with a delightful surprise, analogous to that which is felt at an unexpected emersion from darkness into light. when it was time to sup, the dance ceased, and six and thirty persons sat down to two tables in the same room. after supper the ladies sung erse songs, to which i listened as an english audience to an italian opera, delighted with the sound of words which i did not understand. i inquired the subjects of the songs, and was told of one, that it was a love song, and of another, that it was a farewell composed by one of the islanders that was going, in this epidemical fury of emigration, to seek his fortune in america. what sentiments would arise, on such an occasion, in the heart of one who had not been taught to lament by precedent, i should gladly have known; but the lady, by whom i sat, thought herself not equal to the work of translating. mr. macleod is the proprietor of the islands of raasay, rona, and fladda, and possesses an extensive district in sky. the estate has not, during four hundred years, gained or lost a single acre. he acknowledges macleod of dunvegan as his chief, though his ancestors have formerly disputed the pre-eminence. one of the old highland alliances has continued for two hundred years, and is still subsisting between macleod of raasay and macdonald of sky, in consequence of which, the survivor always inherits the arms of the deceased; a natural memorial of military friendship. at the death of the late sir james macdonald, his sword was delivered to the present laird of raasay. the family of raasay consists of the laird, the lady, three sons and ten daughters. for the sons there is a tutor in the house, and the lady is said to be very skilful and diligent in the education of her girls. more gentleness of manners, or a more pleasing appearance of domestick society, is not found in the most polished countries. raasay is the only inhabited island in mr. macleod's possession. rona and fladda afford only pasture for cattle, of which one hundred and sixty winter in rona, under the superintendence of a solitary herdsman. the length of raasay is, by computation, fifteen miles, and the breadth two. these countries have never been measured, and the computation by miles is negligent and arbitrary. we observed in travelling, that the nominal and real distance of places had very little relation to each other. raasay probably contains near a hundred square miles. it affords not much ground, notwithstanding its extent, either for tillage, or pasture; for it is rough, rocky, and barren. the cattle often perish by falling from the precipices. it is like the other islands, i think, generally naked of shade, but it is naked by neglect; for the laird has an orchard, and very large forest trees grow about his house. like other hilly countries it has many rivulets. one of the brooks turns a corn- mill, and at least one produces trouts. in the streams or fresh lakes of the islands, i have never heard of any other fish than trouts and eels. the trouts, which i have seen, are not large; the colour of their flesh is tinged as in england. of their eels i can give no account, having never tasted them; for i believe they are not considered as wholesome food. it is not very easy to fix the principles upon which mankind have agreed to eat some animals, and reject others; and as the principle is not evident, it is not uniform. that which is selected as delicate in one country, is by its neighbours abhorred as loathsome. the neapolitans lately refused to eat potatoes in a famine. an englishman is not easily persuaded to dine on snails with an italian, on frogs with a frenchman, or on horseflesh with a tartar. the vulgar inhabitants of sky, i know not whether of the other islands, have not only eels, but pork and bacon in abhorrence, and accordingly i never saw a hog in the hebrides, except one at dunvegan. raasay has wild fowl in abundance, but neither deer, hares, nor rabbits. why it has them not, might be asked, but that of such questions there is no end. why does any nation want what it might have? why are not spices transplanted to america? why does tea continue to be brought from china? life improves but by slow degrees, and much in every place is yet to do. attempts have been made to raise roebucks in raasay, but without effect. the young ones it is extremely difficult to rear, and the old can very seldom be taken alive. hares and rabbits might be more easily obtained. that they have few or none of either in sky, they impute to the ravage of the foxes, and have therefore set, for some years past, a price upon their heads, which, as the number was diminished, has been gradually raised, from three shillings and sixpence to a guinea, a sum so great in this part of the world, that, in a short time, sky may be as free from foxes, as england from wolves. the fund for these rewards is a tax of sixpence in the pound, imposed by the farmers on themselves, and said to be paid with great willingness. the beasts of prey in the islands are foxes, otters, and weasels. the foxes are bigger than those of england; but the otters exceed ours in a far greater proportion. i saw one at armidel, of a size much beyond that which i supposed them ever to attain; and mr. maclean, the heir of col, a man of middle stature, informed me that he once shot an otter, of which the tail reached the ground, when he held up the head to a level with his own. i expected the otter to have a foot particularly formed for the art of swimming; but upon examination, i did not find it differing much from that of a spaniel. as he preys in the sea, he does little visible mischief, and is killed only for his fur. white otters are sometimes seen. in raasay they might have hares and rabbits, for they have no foxes. some depredations, such as were never made before, have caused a suspicion that a fox has been lately landed in the island by spite or wantonness. this imaginary stranger has never yet been seen, and therefore, perhaps, the mischief was done by some other animal. it is not likely that a creature so ungentle, whose head could have been sold in sky for a guinea, should be kept alive only to gratify the malice of sending him to prey upon a neighbour: and the passage from sky is wider than a fox would venture to swim, unless he were chased by dogs into the sea, and perhaps than his strength would enable him to cross. how beasts of prey came into any islands is not easy to guess. in cold countries they take advantage of hard winters, and travel over the ice: but this is a very scanty solution; for they are found where they have no discoverable means of coming. the corn of this island is but little. i saw the harvest of a small field. the women reaped the corn, and the men bound up the sheaves. the strokes of the sickle were timed by the modulation of the harvest song, in which all their voices were united. they accompany in the highlands every action, which can be done in equal time, with an appropriated strain, which has, they say, not much meaning; but its effects are regularity and cheerfulness. the ancient proceleusmatick song, by which the rowers of gallies were animated, may be supposed to have been of this kind. there is now an oar-song used by the hebridians. the ground of raasay seems fitter for cattle than for corn, and of black cattle i suppose the number is very great. the laird himself keeps a herd of four hundred, one hundred of which are annually sold. of an extensive domain, which he holds in his own hands, he considers the sale of cattle as repaying him the rent, and supports the plenty of a very liberal table with the remaining product. raasay is supposed to have been very long inhabited. on one side of it they show caves, into which the rude nations of the first ages retreated from the weather. these dreary vaults might have had other uses. there is still a cavity near the house called the oar-cave, in which the seamen, after one of those piratical expeditions, which in rougher times were very frequent, used, as tradition tells, to hide their oars. this hollow was near the sea, that nothing so necessary might be far to be fetched; and it was secret, that enemies, if they landed, could find nothing. yet it is not very evident of what use it was to hide their oars from those, who, if they were masters of the coast, could take away their boats. a proof much stronger of the distance at which the first possessors of this island lived from the present time, is afforded by the stone heads of arrows which are very frequently picked up. the people call them elf- bolts, and believe that the fairies shoot them at the cattle. they nearly resemble those which mr. banks has lately brought from the savage countries in the pacifick ocean, and must have been made by a nation to which the use of metals was unknown. the number of this little community has never been counted by its ruler, nor have i obtained any positive account, consistent with the result of political computation. not many years ago, the late laird led out one hundred men upon a military expedition. the sixth part of a people is supposed capable of bearing arms: raasay had therefore six hundred inhabitants. but because it is not likely, that every man able to serve in the field would follow the summons, or that the chief would leave his lands totally defenceless, or take away all the hands qualified for labour, let it be supposed, that half as many might be permitted to stay at home. the whole number will then be nine hundred, or nine to a square mile; a degree of populousness greater than those tracts of desolation can often show. they are content with their country, and faithful to their chiefs, and yet uninfected with the fever of migration. near the house, at raasay, is a chapel unroofed and ruinous, which has long been used only as a place of burial. about the churches, in the islands, are small squares inclosed with stone, which belong to particular families, as repositories for the dead. at raasay there is one, i think, for the proprietor, and one for some collateral house. it is told by martin, that at the death of the lady of the island, it has been here the custom to erect a cross. this we found not to be true. the stones that stand about the chapel at a small distance, some of which perhaps have crosses cut upon them, are believed to have been not funeral monuments, but the ancient boundaries of the sanctuary or consecrated ground. martin was a man not illiterate: he was an inhabitant of sky, and therefore was within reach of intelligence, and with no great difficulty might have visited the places which he undertakes to describe; yet with all his opportunities, he has often suffered himself to be deceived. he lived in the last century, when the chiefs of the clans had lost little of their original influence. the mountains were yet unpenetrated, no inlet was opened to foreign novelties, and the feudal institution operated upon life with their full force. he might therefore have displayed a series of subordination and a form of government, which, in more luminous and improved regions, have been long forgotten, and have delighted his readers with many uncouth customs that are now disused, and wild opinions that prevail no longer. but he probably had not knowledge of the world sufficient to qualify him for judging what would deserve or gain the attention of mankind. the mode of life which was familiar to himself, he did not suppose unknown to others, nor imagined that he could give pleasure by telling that of which it was, in his little country, impossible to be ignorant. what he has neglected cannot now be performed. in nations, where there is hardly the use of letters, what is once out of sight is lost for ever. they think but little, and of their few thoughts, none are wasted on the past, in which they are neither interested by fear nor hope. their only registers are stated observances and practical representations. for this reason an age of ignorance is an age of ceremony. pageants, and processions, and commemorations, gradually shrink away, as better methods come into use of recording events, and preserving rights. it is not only in raasay that the chapel is unroofed and useless; through the few islands which we visited, we neither saw nor heard of any house of prayer, except in sky, that was not in ruins. the malignant influence of calvinism has blasted ceremony and decency together; and if the remembrance of papal superstition is obliterated, the monuments of papal piety are likewise effaced. it has been, for many years, popular to talk of the lazy devotion of the romish clergy; over the sleepy laziness of men that erected churches, we may indulge our superiority with a new triumph, by comparing it with the fervid activity of those who suffer them to fall. of the destruction of churches, the decay of religion must in time be the consequence; for while the publick acts of the ministry are now performed in houses, a very small number can be present; and as the greater part of the islanders make no use of books, all must necessarily live in total ignorance who want the opportunity of vocal instruction. from these remains of ancient sanctity, which are every where to be found, it has been conjectured, that, for the last two centuries, the inhabitants of the islands have decreased in number. this argument, which supposes that the churches have been suffered to fall, only because they were no longer necessary, would have some force, if the houses of worship still remaining were sufficient for the people. but since they have now no churches at all, these venerable fragments do not prove the people of former times to have been more numerous, but to have been more devout. if the inhabitants were doubled with their present principles, it appears not that any provision for publick worship would be made. where the religion of a country enforces consecrated buildings, the number of those buildings may be supposed to afford some indication, however uncertain, of the populousness of the place; but where by a change of manners a nation is contented to live without them, their decay implies no diminution of inhabitants. some of these dilapidations are said to be found in islands now uninhabited; but i doubt whether we can thence infer that they were ever peopled. the religion of the middle age, is well known to have placed too much hope in lonely austerities. voluntary solitude was the great act of propitiation, by which crimes were effaced, and conscience was appeased; it is therefore not unlikely, that oratories were often built in places where retirement was sure to have no disturbance. raasay has little that can detain a traveller, except the laird and his family; but their power wants no auxiliaries. such a seat of hospitality, amidst the winds and waters, fills the imagination with a delightful contrariety of images. without is the rough ocean and the rocky land, the beating billows and the howling storm: within is plenty and elegance, beauty and gaiety, the song and the dance. in raasay, if i could have found an ulysses, i had fancied a phoeacia. dunvegan at raasay, by good fortune, macleod, so the chief of the clan is called, was paying a visit, and by him we were invited to his seat at dunvegan. raasay has a stout boat, built in norway, in which, with six oars, he conveyed us back to sky. we landed at port re, so called, because james the fifth of scotland, who had curiosity to visit the islands, came into it. the port is made by an inlet of the sea, deep and narrow, where a ship lay waiting to dispeople sky, by carrying the natives away to america. in coasting sky, we passed by the cavern in which it was the custom, as martin relates, to catch birds in the night, by making a fire at the entrance. this practice is disused; for the birds, as is known often to happen, have changed their haunts. here we dined at a publick house, i believe the only inn of the island, and having mounted our horses, travelled in the manner already described, till we came to kingsborough, a place distinguished by that name, because the king lodged here when he landed at port re. we were entertained with the usual hospitality by mr. macdonald and his lady, flora macdonald, a name that will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour. she is a woman of middle stature, soft features, gentle manners, and elegant presence. in the morning we sent our horses round a promontory to meet us, and spared ourselves part of the day's fatigue, by crossing an arm of the sea. we had at last some difficulty in coming to dunvegan; for our way led over an extensive moor, where every step was to be taken with caution, and we were often obliged to alight, because the ground could not be trusted. in travelling this watery flat, i perceived that it had a visible declivity, and might without much expence or difficulty be drained. but difficulty and expence are relative terms, which have different meanings in different places. to dunvegan we came, very willing to be at rest, and found our fatigue amply recompensed by our reception. lady macleod, who had lived many years in england, was newly come hither with her son and four daughters, who knew all the arts of southern elegance, and all the modes of english economy. here therefore we settled, and did not spoil the present hour with thoughts of departure. dunvegan is a rocky prominence, that juts out into a bay, on the west side of sky. the house, which is the principal seat of macleod, is partly old and partly modern; it is built upon the rock, and looks upon the water. it forms two sides of a small square: on the third side is the skeleton of a castle of unknown antiquity, supposed to have been a norwegian fortress, when the danes were masters of the islands. it is so nearly entire, that it might have easily been made habitable, were there not an ominous tradition in the family, that the owner shall not long outlive the reparation. the grandfather of the present laird, in defiance of prediction, began the work, but desisted in a little time, and applied his money to worse uses. as the inhabitants of the hebrides lived, for many ages, in continual expectation of hostilities, the chief of every clan resided in a fortress. this house was accessible only from the water, till the last possessor opened an entrance by stairs upon the land. they had formerly reason to be afraid, not only of declared wars and authorized invaders, or of roving pirates, which, in the northern seas, must have been very common; but of inroads and insults from rival clans, who, in the plenitude of feudal independence, asked no leave of their sovereign to make war on one another. sky has been ravaged by a feud between the two mighty powers of macdonald and macleod. macdonald having married a macleod upon some discontent dismissed her, perhaps because she had brought him no children. before the reign of james the fifth, a highland laird made a trial of his wife for a certain time, and if she did not please him, he was then at liberty to send her away. this however must always have offended, and macleod resenting the injury, whatever were its circumstances, declared, that the wedding had been solemnized without a bonfire, but that the separation should be better illuminated; and raising a little army, set fire to the territories of macdonald, who returned the visit, and prevailed. another story may show the disorderly state of insular neighbourhood. the inhabitants of the isle of egg, meeting a boat manned by macleods, tied the crew hand and foot, and set them a-drift. macleod landed upon egg, and demanded the offenders; but the inhabitants refusing to surrender them, retreated to a cavern, into which they thought their enemies unlikely to follow them. macleod choked them with smoke, and left them lying dead by families as they stood. here the violence of the weather confined us for some time, not at all to our discontent or inconvenience. we would indeed very willingly have visited the islands, which might be seen from the house scattered in the sea, and i was particularly desirous to have viewed isay; but the storms did not permit us to launch a boat, and we were condemned to listen in idleness to the wind, except when we were better engaged by listening to the ladies. we had here more wind than waves, and suffered the severity of a tempest, without enjoying its magnificence. the sea being broken by the multitude of islands, does not roar with so much noise, nor beat the shore with such foamy violence, as i have remarked on the coast of sussex. though, while i was in the hebrides, the wind was extremely turbulent, i never saw very high billows. the country about dunvegan is rough and barren. there are no trees, except in the orchard, which is a low sheltered spot surrounded with a wall. when this house was intended to sustain a siege, a well was made in the court, by boring the rock downwards, till water was found, which though so near to the sea, i have not heard mentioned as brackish, though it has some hardness, or other qualities, which make it less fit for use; and the family is now better supplied from a stream, which runs by the rock, from two pleasing waterfalls. here we saw some traces of former manners, and heard some standing traditions. in the house is kept an ox's horn, hollowed so as to hold perhaps two quarts, which the heir of macleod was expected to swallow at one draught, as a test of his manhood, before he was permitted to bear arms, or could claim a seat among the men. it is held that the return of the laird to dunvegan, after any considerable absence, produces a plentiful capture of herrings; and that, if any woman crosses the water to the opposite island, the herrings will desert the coast. boetius tells the same of some other place. this tradition is not uniform. some hold that no woman may pass, and others that none may pass but a macleod. among other guests, which the hospitality of dunvegan brought to the table, a visit was paid by the laird and lady of a small island south of sky, of which the proper name is muack, which signifies swine. it is commonly called muck, which the proprietor not liking, has endeavoured, without effect, to change to monk. it is usual to call gentlemen in scotland by the name of their possessions, as raasay, bernera, loch buy, a practice necessary in countries inhabited by clans, where all that live in the same territory have one name, and must be therefore discriminated by some addition. this gentleman, whose name, i think, is maclean, should be regularly called muck; but the appellation, which he thinks too coarse for his island, he would like still less for himself, and he is therefore addressed by the title of, isle of muck. this little island, however it be named, is of considerable value. it is two english miles long, and three quarters of a mile broad, and consequently contains only nine hundred and sixty english acres. it is chiefly arable. half of this little dominion the laird retains in his own hand, and on the other half, live one hundred and sixty persons, who pay their rent by exported corn. what rent they pay, we were not told, and could not decently inquire. the proportion of the people to the land is such, as the most fertile countries do not commonly maintain. the laird having all his people under his immediate view, seems to be very attentive to their happiness. the devastation of the small-pox, when it visits places where it comes seldom, is well known. he has disarmed it of its terrour at muack, by inoculating eighty of his people. the expence was two shillings and sixpence a head. many trades they cannot have among them, but upon occasion, he fetches a smith from the isle of egg, and has a tailor from the main land, six times a year. this island well deserved to be seen, but the laird's absence left us no opportunity. every inhabited island has its appendant and subordinate islets. muck, however small, has yet others smaller about it, one of which has only ground sufficient to afford pasture for three wethers. at dunvegan i had tasted lotus, and was in danger of forgetting that i was ever to depart, till mr. boswell sagely reproached me with my sluggishness and softness. i had no very forcible defence to make; and we agreed to pursue our journey. macleod accompanied us to ulinish, where we were entertained by the sheriff of the island. ulinish mr. macqueen travelled with us, and directed our attention to all that was worthy of observation. with him we went to see an ancient building, called a dun or borough. it was a circular inclosure, about forty-two feet in diameter, walled round with loose stones, perhaps to the height of nine feet. the walls were very thick, diminishing a little toward the top, and though in these countries, stone is not brought far, must have been raised with much labour. within the great circle were several smaller rounds of wall, which formed distinct apartments. its date, and its use are unknown. some suppose it the original seat of the chiefs of the macleods. mr. macqueen thought it a danish fort. the entrance is covered with flat stones, and is narrow, because it was necessary that the stones which lie over it, should reach from one wall to the other; yet, strait as the passage is, they seem heavier than could have been placed where they now lie, by the naked strength of as many men as might stand about them. they were probably raised by putting long pieces of wood under them, to which the action of a long line of lifters might be applied. savages, in all countries, have patience proportionate to their unskilfulness, and are content to attain their end by very tedious methods. if it was ever roofed, it might once have been a dwelling, but as there is no provision for water, it could not have been a fortress. in sky, as in every other place, there is an ambition of exalting whatever has survived memory, to some important use, and referring it to very remote ages. i am inclined to suspect, that in lawless times, when the inhabitants of every mountain stole the cattle of their neighbour, these inclosures were used to secure the herds and flocks in the night. when they were driven within the wall, they might be easily watched, and defended as long as could be needful; for the robbers durst not wait till the injured clan should find them in the morning. the interior inclosures, if the whole building were once a house, were the chambers of the chief inhabitants. if it was a place of security for cattle, they were probably the shelters of the keepers. from the dun we were conducted to another place of security, a cave carried a great way under ground, which had been discovered by digging after a fox. these caves, of which many have been found, and many probably remain concealed, are formed, i believe, commonly by taking advantage of a hollow, where banks or rocks rise on either side. if no such place can be found, the ground must be cut away. the walls are made by piling stones against the earth, on either side. it is then roofed by larger stones laid across the cavern, which therefore cannot be wide. over the roof, turfs were placed, and grass was suffered to grow; and the mouth was concealed by bushes, or some other cover. these caves were represented to us as the cabins of the first rude inhabitants, of which, however, i am by no means persuaded. this was so low, that no man could stand upright in it. by their construction they are all so narrow, that two can never pass along them together, and being subterraneous, they must be always damp. they are not the work of an age much ruder than the present; for they are formed with as much art as the construction of a common hut requires. i imagine them to have been places only of occasional use, in which the islander, upon a sudden alarm, hid his utensils, or his cloaths, and perhaps sometimes his wife and children. this cave we entered, but could not proceed the whole length, and went away without knowing how far it was carried. for this omission we shall be blamed, as we perhaps have blamed other travellers; but the day was rainy, and the ground was damp. we had with us neither spades nor pickaxes, and if love of ease surmounted our desire of knowledge, the offence has not the invidiousness of singularity. edifices, either standing or ruined, are the chief records of an illiterate nation. in some part of this journey, at no great distance from our way, stood a shattered fortress, of which the learned minister, to whose communication we are much indebted, gave us an account. those, said he, are the walls of a place of refuge, built in the time of james the sixth, by hugh macdonald, who was next heir to the dignity and fortune of his chief. hugh, being so near his wish, was impatient of delay; and had art and influence sufficient to engage several gentlemen in a plot against the laird's life. something must be stipulated on both sides; for they would not dip their hands in blood merely for hugh's advancement. the compact was formerly written, signed by the conspirators, and placed in the hands of one macleod. it happened that macleod had sold some cattle to a drover, who, not having ready money, gave him a bond for payment. the debt was discharged, and the bond re-demanded; which macleod, who could not read, intending to put into his hands, gave him the conspiracy. the drover, when he had read the paper, delivered it privately to macdonald; who, being thus informed of his danger, called his friends together, and provided for his safety. he made a public feast, and inviting hugh macdonald and his confederates, placed each of them at the table between two men of known fidelity. the compact of conspiracy was then shewn, and every man confronted with his own name. macdonald acted with great moderation. he upbraided hugh, both with disloyalty and ingratitude; but told the rest, that he considered them as men deluded and misinformed. hugh was sworn to fidelity, and dismissed with his companions; but he was not generous enough to be reclaimed by lenity; and finding no longer any countenance among the gentlemen, endeavoured to execute the same design by meaner hands. in this practice he was detected, taken to macdonald's castle, and imprisoned in the dungeon. when he was hungry, they let down a plentiful meal of salted meat; and when, after his repast, he called for drink, conveyed to him a covered cup, which, when he lifted the lid, he found empty. from that time they visited him no more, but left him to perish in solitude and darkness. we were then told of a cavern by the sea-side, remarkable for the powerful reverberation of sounds. after dinner we took a boat, to explore this curious cavity. the boatmen, who seemed to be of a rank above that of common drudges, inquired who the strangers were, and being told we came one from scotland, and the other from england, asked if the englishman could recount a long genealogy. what answer was given them, the conversation being in erse, i was not much inclined to examine. they expected no good event of the voyage; for one of them declared that he heard the cry of an english ghost. this omen i was not told till after our return, and therefore cannot claim the dignity of despising it. the sea was smooth. we never left the shore, and came without any disaster to the cavern, which we found rugged and misshapen, about one hundred and eighty feet long, thirty wide in the broadest part, and in the loftiest, as we guessed, about thirty high. it was now dry, but at high water the sea rises in it near six feet. here i saw what i had never seen before, limpets and mussels in their natural state. but, as a new testimony to the veracity of common fame, here was no echo to be heard. we then walked through a natural arch in the rock, which might have pleased us by its novelty, had the stones, which incumbered our feet, given us leisure to consider it. we were shown the gummy seed of the kelp, that fastens itself to a stone, from which it grows into a strong stalk. in our return, we found a little boy upon the point of rock, catching with his angle, a supper for the family. we rowed up to him, and borrowed his rod, with which mr. boswell caught a cuddy. the cuddy is a fish of which i know not the philosophical name. it is not much bigger than a gudgeon, but is of great use in these islands, as it affords the lower people both food, and oil for their lamps. cuddies are so abundant, at sometimes of the year, that they are caught like whitebait in the thames, only by dipping a basket and drawing it back. if it were always practicable to fish, these islands could never be in much danger from famine; but unhappily in the winter, when other provision fails, the seas are commonly too rough for nets, or boats. talisker in sky from ulinish, our next stage was to talisker, the house of colonel macleod, an officer in the dutch service, who, in this time of universal peace, has for several years been permitted to be absent from his regiment. having been bred to physick, he is consequently a scholar, and his lady, by accompanying him in his different places of residence, is become skilful in several languages. talisker is the place beyond all that i have seen, from which the gay and the jovial seem utterly excluded; and where the hermit might expect to grow old in meditation, without possibility of disturbance or interruption. it is situated very near the sea, but upon a coast where no vessel lands but when it is driven by a tempest on the rocks. towards the land are lofty hills streaming with waterfalls. the garden is sheltered by firs or pines, which grow there so prosperously, that some, which the present inhabitant planted, are very high and thick. at this place we very happily met mr. donald maclean, a young gentleman, the eldest son of the laird of col, heir to a very great extent of land, and so desirous of improving his inheritance, that he spent a considerable time among the farmers of hertfordshire, and hampshire, to learn their practice. he worked with his own hands at the principal operations of agriculture, that he might not deceive himself by a false opinion of skill, which, if he should find it deficient at home, he had no means of completing. if the world has agreed to praise the travels and manual labours of the czar of muscovy, let col have his share of the like applause, in the proportion of his dominions to the empire of russia. this young gentleman was sporting in the mountains of sky, and when he was weary with following his game, repaired for lodging to talisker. at night he missed one of his dogs, and when he went to seek him in the morning, found two eagles feeding on his carcass. col, for he must be named by his possessions, hearing that our intention was to visit jona, offered to conduct us to his chief, sir allan maclean, who lived in the isle of inch kenneth, and would readily find us a convenient passage. from this time was formed an acquaintance, which being begun by kindness, was accidentally continued by constraint; we derived much pleasure from it, and i hope have given him no reason to repent it. the weather was now almost one continued storm, and we were to snatch some happy intermission to be conveyed to mull, the third island of the hebrides, lying about a degree south of sky, whence we might easily find our way to inch kenneth, where sir allan maclean resided, and afterward to jona. for this purpose, the most commodious station that we could take was armidel, which sir alexander macdonald had now left to a gentleman, who lived there as his factor or steward. in our way to armidel was coriatachan, where we had already been, and to which therefore we were very willing to return. we staid however so long at talisker, that a great part of our journey was performed in the gloom of the evening. in travelling even thus almost without light thro' naked solitude, when there is a guide whose conduct may be trusted, a mind not naturally too much disposed to fear, may preserve some degree of cheerfulness; but what must be the solicitude of him who should be wandering, among the craggs and hollows, benighted, ignorant, and alone? the fictions of the gothick romances were not so remote from credibility as they are now thought. in the full prevalence of the feudal institution, when violence desolated the world, and every baron lived in a fortress, forests and castles were regularly succeeded by each other, and the adventurer might very suddenly pass from the gloom of woods, or the ruggedness of moors, to seats of plenty, gaiety, and magnificence. whatever is imaged in the wildest tale, if giants, dragons, and enchantment be excepted, would be felt by him, who, wandering in the mountains without a guide, or upon the sea without a pilot, should be carried amidst his terror and uncertainty, to the hospitality and elegance of raasay or dunvegan. to coriatachan at last we came, and found ourselves welcomed as before. here we staid two days, and made such inquiries as curiosity suggested. the house was filled with company, among whom mr. macpherson and his sister distinguished themselves by their politeness and accomplishments. by him we were invited to ostig, a house not far from armidel, where we might easily hear of a boat, when the weather would suffer us to leave the island. ostig in sky at ostig, of which mr. macpherson is minister, we were entertained for some days, then removed to armidel, where we finished our observations on the island of sky. as this island lies in the fifty-seventh degree, the air cannot be supposed to have much warmth. the long continuance of the sun above the horizon, does indeed sometimes produce great heat in northern latitudes; but this can only happen in sheltered places, where the atmosphere is to a certain degree stagnant, and the same mass of air continues to receive for many hours the rays of the sun, and the vapours of the earth. sky lies open on the west and north to a vast extent of ocean, and is cooled in the summer by perpetual ventilation, but by the same blasts is kept warm in winter. their weather is not pleasing. half the year is deluged with rain. from the autumnal to the vernal equinox, a dry day is hardly known, except when the showers are suspended by a tempest. under such skies can be expected no great exuberance of vegetation. their winter overtakes their summer, and their harvest lies upon the ground drenched with rain. the autumn struggles hard to produce some of our early fruits. i gathered gooseberries in september; but they were small, and the husk was thick. their winter is seldom such as puts a full stop to the growth of plants, or reduces the cattle to live wholly on the surplusage of the summer. in the year seventy-one they had a severe season, remembered by the name of the black spring, from which the island has not yet recovered. the snow lay long upon the ground, a calamity hardly known before. part of their cattle died for want, part were unseasonably sold to buy sustenance for the owners; and, what i have not read or heard of before, the kine that survived were so emaciated and dispirited, that they did not require the male at the usual time. many of the roebucks perished. the soil, as in other countries, has its diversities. in some parts there is only a thin layer of earth spread upon a rock, which bears nothing but short brown heath, and perhaps is not generally capable of any better product. there are many bogs or mosses of greater or less extent, where the soil cannot be supposed to want depth, though it is too wet for the plow. but we did not observe in these any aquatick plants. the vallies and the mountains are alike darkened with heath. some grass, however, grows here and there, and some happier spots of earth are capable of tillage. their agriculture is laborious, and perhaps rather feeble than unskilful. their chief manure is seaweed, which, when they lay it to rot upon the field, gives them a better crop than those of the highlands. they heap sea shells upon the dunghill, which in time moulder into a fertilising substance. when they find a vein of earth where they cannot use it, they dig it up, and add it to the mould of a more commodious place. their corn grounds often lie in such intricacies among the craggs, that there is no room for the action of a team and plow. the soil is then turned up by manual labour, with an instrument called a crooked spade, of a form and weight which to me appeared very incommodious, and would perhaps be soon improved in a country where workmen could be easily found and easily paid. it has a narrow blade of iron fixed to a long and heavy piece of wood, which must have, about a foot and a half above the iron, a knee or flexure with the angle downwards. when the farmer encounters a stone which is the great impediment of his operations, he drives the blade under it, and bringing the knee or angle to the ground, has in the long handle a very forcible lever. according to the different mode of tillage, farms are distinguished into long land and short land. long land is that which affords room for a plow, and short land is turned up by the spade. the grain which they commit to the furrows thus tediously formed, is either oats or barley. they do not sow barley without very copious manure, and then they expect from it ten for one, an increase equal to that of better countries; but the culture is so operose that they content themselves commonly with oats; and who can relate without compassion, that after all their diligence they are to expect only a triple increase? it is in vain to hope for plenty, when a third part of the harvest must be reserved for seed. when their grain is arrived at the state which they must consider as ripeness, they do not cut, but pull the barley: to the oats they apply the sickle. wheel carriages they have none, but make a frame of timber, which is drawn by one horse with the two points behind pressing on the ground. on this they sometimes drag home their sheaves, but often convey them home in a kind of open panier, or frame of sticks upon the horse's back. of that which is obtained with so much difficulty, nothing surely ought to be wasted; yet their method of clearing their oats from the husk is by parching them in the straw. thus with the genuine improvidence of savages, they destroy that fodder for want of which their cattle may perish. from this practice they have two petty conveniences. they dry the grain so that it is easily reduced to meal, and they escape the theft of the thresher. the taste contracted from the fire by the oats, as by every other scorched substance, use must long ago have made grateful. the oats that are not parched must be dried in a kiln. the barns of sky i never saw. that which macleod of raasay had erected near his house was so contrived, because the harvest is seldom brought home dry, as by perpetual perflation to prevent the mow from heating. of their gardens i can judge only from their tables. i did not observe that the common greens were wanting, and suppose, that by choosing an advantageous exposition, they can raise all the more hardy esculent plants. of vegetable fragrance or beauty they are not yet studious. few vows are made to flora in the hebrides. they gather a little hay, but the grass is mown late; and is so often almost dry and again very wet, before it is housed, that it becomes a collection of withered stalks without taste or fragrance; it must be eaten by cattle that have nothing else, but by most english farmers would be thrown away. in the islands i have not heard that any subterraneous treasures have been discovered, though where there are mountains, there are commonly minerals. one of the rocks in col has a black vein, imagined to consist of the ore of lead; but it was never yet opened or essayed. in sky a black mass was accidentally picked up, and brought into the house of the owner of the land, who found himself strongly inclined to think it a coal, but unhappily it did not burn in the chimney. common ores would be here of no great value; for what requires to be separated by fire, must, if it were found, be carried away in its mineral state, here being no fewel for the smelting-house or forge. perhaps by diligent search in this world of stone, some valuable species of marble might be discovered. but neither philosophical curiosity, nor commercial industry, have yet fixed their abode here, where the importunity of immediate want supplied but for the day, and craving on the morrow, has left little room for excursive knowledge or the pleasing fancies of distant profit. they have lately found a manufacture considerably lucrative. their rocks abound with kelp, a sea-plant, of which the ashes are melted into glass. they burn kelp in great quantities, and then send it away in ships, which come regularly to purchase them. this new source of riches has raised the rents of many maritime farms; but the tenants pay, like all other tenants, the additional rent with great unwillingness; because they consider the profits of the kelp as the mere product of personal labour, to which the landlord contributes nothing. however, as any man may be said to give, what he gives the power of gaining, he has certainly as much right to profit from the price of kelp as of any thing else found or raised upon his ground. this new trade has excited a long and eager litigation between macdonald and macleod, for a ledge of rocks, which, till the value of kelp was known, neither of them desired the reputation of possessing. the cattle of sky are not so small as is commonly believed. since they have sent their beeves in great numbers to southern marts, they have probably taken more care of their breed. at stated times the annual growth of cattle is driven to a fair, by a general drover, and with the money, which he returns to the farmer, the rents are paid. the price regularly expected, is from two to three pounds a head: there was once one sold for five pounds. they go from the islands very lean, and are not offered to the butcher, till they have been long fatted in english pastures. of their black cattle, some are without horns, called by the scots humble cows, as we call a bee an humble bee, that wants a sting. whether this difference be specifick, or accidental, though we inquired with great diligence, we could not be informed. we are not very sure that the bull is ever without horns, though we have been told, that such bulls there are. what is produced by putting a horned and unhorned male and female together, no man has ever tried, that thought the result worthy of observation. their horses are, like their cows, of a moderate size. i had no difficulty to mount myself commodiously by the favour of the gentlemen. i heard of very little cows in barra, and very little horses in rum, where perhaps no care is taken to prevent that diminution of size, which must always happen, where the greater and the less copulate promiscuously, and the young animal is restrained from growth by penury of sustenance. the goat is the general inhabitant of the earth, complying with every difference of climate, and of soil. the goats of the hebrides are like others: nor did i hear any thing of their sheep, to be particularly remarked. in the penury of these malignant regions, nothing is left that can be converted to food. the goats and the sheep are milked like the cows. a single meal of a goat is a quart, and of a sheep a pint. such at least was the account, which i could extract from those of whom i am not sure that they ever had inquired. the milk of goats is much thinner than that of cows, and that of sheep is much thicker. sheeps milk is never eaten before it is boiled: as it is thick, it must be very liberal of curd, and the people of st. kilda form it into small cheeses. the stags of the mountains are less than those of our parks, or forests, perhaps not bigger than our fallow deer. their flesh has no rankness, nor is inferiour in flavour to our common venison. the roebuck i neither saw nor tasted. these are not countries for a regular chase. the deer are not driven with horns and hounds. a sportsman, with his gun in his hand, watches the animal, and when he has wounded him, traces him by the blood. they have a race of brinded greyhounds, larger and stronger than those with which we course hares, and those are the only dogs used by them for the chase. man is by the use of fire-arms made so much an overmatch for other animals, that in all countries, where they are in use, the wild part of the creation sensibly diminishes. there will probably not be long, either stags or roebucks in the islands. all the beasts of chase would have been lost long ago in countries well inhabited, had they not been preserved by laws for the pleasure of the rich. there are in sky neither rats nor mice, but the weasel is so frequent, that he is heard in houses rattling behind chests or beds, as rats in england. they probably owe to his predominance that they have no other vermin; for since the great rat took possession of this part of the world, scarce a ship can touch at any port, but some of his race are left behind. they have within these few years began to infest the isle of col, where being left by some trading vessel, they have increased for want of weasels to oppose them. the inhabitants of sky, and of the other islands, which i have seen, are commonly of the middle stature, with fewer among them very tall or very short, than are seen in england, or perhaps, as their numbers are small, the chances of any deviation from the common measure are necessarily few. the tallest men that i saw are among those of higher rank. in regions of barrenness and scarcity, the human race is hindered in its growth by the same causes as other animals. the ladies have as much beauty here as in other places, but bloom and softness are not to be expected among the lower classes, whose faces are exposed to the rudeness of the climate, and whose features are sometimes contracted by want, and sometimes hardened by the blasts. supreme beauty is seldom found in cottages or work-shops, even where no real hardships are suffered. to expand the human face to its full perfection, it seems necessary that the mind should co-operate by placidness of content, or consciousness of superiority. their strength is proportionate to their size, but they are accustomed to run upon rough ground, and therefore can with great agility skip over the bog, or clamber the mountain. for a campaign in the wastes of america, soldiers better qualified could not have been found. having little work to do, they are not willing, nor perhaps able to endure a long continuance of manual labour, and are therefore considered as habitually idle. having never been supplied with those accommodations, which life extensively diversified with trades affords, they supply their wants by very insufficient shifts, and endure many inconveniences, which a little attention would easily relieve. i have seen a horse carrying home the harvest on a crate. under his tail was a stick for a crupper, held at the two ends by twists of straw. hemp will grow in their islands, and therefore ropes may be had. if they wanted hemp, they might make better cordage of rushes, or perhaps of nettles, than of straw. their method of life neither secures them perpetual health, nor exposes them to any particular diseases. there are physicians in the islands, who, i believe, all practise chirurgery, and all compound their own medicines. it is generally supposed, that life is longer in places where there are few opportunities of luxury; but i found no instance here of extraordinary longevity. a cottager grows old over his oaten cakes, like a citizen at a turtle feast. he is indeed seldom incommoded by corpulence. poverty preserves him from sinking under the burden of himself, but he escapes no other injury of time. instances of long life are often related, which those who hear them are more willing to credit than examine. to be told that any man has attained a hundred years, gives hope and comfort to him who stands trembling on the brink of his own climacterick. length of life is distributed impartially to very different modes of life in very different climates; and the mountains have no greater examples of age and health than the low lands, where i was introduced to two ladies of high quality; one of whom, in her ninety-fourth year, presided at her table with the full exercise of all her powers; and the other has attained her eighty-fourth, without any diminution of her vivacity, and with little reason to accuse time of depredations on her beauty. in the islands, as in most other places, the inhabitants are of different rank, and one does not encroach here upon another. where there is no commerce nor manufacture, he that is born poor can scarcely become rich; and if none are able to buy estates, he that is born to land cannot annihilate his family by selling it. this was once the state of these countries. perhaps there is no example, till within a century and half, of any family whose estate was alienated otherwise than by violence or forfeiture. since money has been brought amongst them, they have found, like others, the art of spending more than they receive; and i saw with grief the chief of a very ancient clan, whose island was condemned by law to be sold for the satisfaction of his creditors. the name of highest dignity is laird, of which there are in the extensive isle of sky only three, macdonald, macleod, and mackinnon. the laird is the original owner of the land, whose natural power must be very great, where no man lives but by agriculture; and where the produce of the land is not conveyed through the labyrinths of traffick, but passes directly from the hand that gathers it to the mouth that eats it. the laird has all those in his power that live upon his farms. kings can, for the most part, only exalt or degrade. the laird at pleasure can feed or starve, can give bread, or withold it. this inherent power was yet strengthened by the kindness of consanguinity, and the reverence of patriarchal authority. the laird was the father of the clan, and his tenants commonly bore his name. and to these principles of original command was added, for many ages, an exclusive right of legal jurisdiction. this multifarious, and extensive obligation operated with force scarcely credible. every duty, moral or political, was absorbed in affection and adherence to the chief. not many years have passed since the clans knew no law but the laird's will. he told them to whom they should be friends or enemies, what king they should obey, and what religion they should profess. when the scots first rose in arms against the succession of the house of hanover, lovat, the chief of the frasers, was in exile for a rape. the frasers were very numerous, and very zealous against the government. a pardon was sent to lovat. he came to the english camp, and the clan immediately deserted to him. next in dignity to the laird is the tacksman; a large taker or lease-holder of land, of which he keeps part, as a domain, in his own hand, and lets part to under tenants. the tacksman is necessarily a man capable of securing to the laird the whole rent, and is commonly a collateral relation. these tacks, or subordinate possessions, were long considered as hereditary, and the occupant was distinguished by the name of the place at which he resided. he held a middle station, by which the highest and the lowest orders were connected. he paid rent and reverence to the laird, and received them from the tenants. this tenure still subsists, with its original operation, but not with the primitive stability. since the islanders, no longer content to live, have learned the desire of growing rich, an ancient dependent is in danger of giving way to a higher bidder, at the expense of domestick dignity and hereditary power. the stranger, whose money buys him preference, considers himself as paying for all that he has, and is indifferent about the laird's honour or safety. the commodiousness of money is indeed great; but there are some advantages which money cannot buy, and which therefore no wise man will by the love of money be tempted to forego. i have found in the hither parts of scotland, men not defective in judgment or general experience, who consider the tacksman as a useless burden of the ground, as a drone who lives upon the product of an estate, without the right of property, or the merit of labour, and who impoverishes at once the landlord and the tenant. the land, say they, is let to the tacksman at sixpence an acre, and by him to the tenant at ten- pence. let the owner be the immediate landlord to all the tenants; if he sets the ground at eight-pence, he will increase his revenue by a fourth part, and the tenant's burthen will be diminished by a fifth. those who pursue this train of reasoning, seem not sufficiently to inquire whither it will lead them, nor to know that it will equally shew the propriety of suppressing all wholesale trade, of shutting up the shops of every man who sells what he does not make, and of extruding all whose agency and profit intervene between the manufacturer and the consumer. they may, by stretching their understandings a little wider, comprehend, that all those who by undertaking large quantities of manufacture, and affording employment to many labourers, make themselves considered as benefactors to the publick, have only been robbing their workmen with one hand, and their customers with the other. if crowley had sold only what he could make, and all his smiths had wrought their own iron with their own hammers, he would have lived on less, and they would have sold their work for more. the salaries of superintendents and clerks would have been partly saved, and partly shared, and nails been sometimes cheaper by a farthing in a hundred. but then if the smith could not have found an immediate purchaser, he must have deserted his anvil; if there had by accident at any time been more sellers than buyers, the workmen must have reduced their profit to nothing, by underselling one another; and as no great stock could have been in any hand, no sudden demand of large quantities could have been answered and the builder must have stood still till the nailer could supply him. according to these schemes, universal plenty is to begin and end in universal misery. hope and emulation will be utterly extinguished; and as all must obey the call of immediate necessity, nothing that requires extensive views, or provides for distant consequences will ever be performed. to the southern inhabitants of scotland, the state of the mountains and the islands is equally unknown with that of borneo or sumatra: of both they have only heard a little, and guess the rest. they are strangers to the language and the manners, to the advantages and wants of the people, whose life they would model, and whose evils they would remedy. nothing is less difficult than to procure one convenience by the forfeiture of another. a soldier may expedite his march by throwing away his arms. to banish the tacksman is easy, to make a country plentiful by diminishing the people, is an expeditious mode of husbandry; but little abundance, which there is nobody to enjoy, contributes little to human happiness. as the mind must govern the hands, so in every society the man of intelligence must direct the man of labour. if the tacksmen be taken away, the hebrides must in their present state be given up to grossness and ignorance; the tenant, for want of instruction, will be unskilful, and for want of admonition will be negligent. the laird in these wide estates, which often consist of islands remote from one another, cannot extend his personal influence to all his tenants; and the steward having no dignity annexed to his character, can have little authority among men taught to pay reverence only to birth, and who regard the tacksman as their hereditary superior; nor can the steward have equal zeal for the prosperity of an estate profitable only to the laird, with the tacksman, who has the laird's income involved in his own. the only gentlemen in the islands are the lairds, the tacksmen, and the ministers, who frequently improve their livings by becoming farmers. if the tacksmen be banished, who will be left to impart knowledge, or impress civility? the laird must always be at a distance from the greater part of his lands; and if he resides at all upon them, must drag his days in solitude, having no longer either a friend or a companion; he will therefore depart to some more comfortable residence, and leave the tenants to the wisdom and mercy of a factor. of tenants there are different orders, as they have greater or less stock. land is sometimes leased to a small fellowship, who live in a cluster of huts, called a tenants town, and are bound jointly and separately for the payment of their rent. these, i believe, employ in the care of their cattle, and the labour of tillage, a kind of tenants yet lower; who having a hut with grass for a certain number of cows and sheep, pay their rent by a stipulated quantity of labour. the condition of domestick servants, or the price of occasional labour, i do not know with certainty. i was told that the maids have sheep, and are allowed to spin for their own clothing; perhaps they have no pecuniary wages, or none but in very wealthy families. the state of life, which has hitherto been purely pastoral, begins now to be a little variegated with commerce; but novelties enter by degrees, and till one mode has fully prevailed over the other, no settled notion can be formed. such is the system of insular subordination, which, having little variety, cannot afford much delight in the view, nor long detain the mind in contemplation. the inhabitants were for a long time perhaps not unhappy; but their content was a muddy mixture of pride and ignorance, an indifference for pleasures which they did not know, a blind veneration for their chiefs, and a strong conviction of their own importance. their pride has been crushed by the heavy hand of a vindictive conqueror, whose seventies have been followed by laws, which, though they cannot be called cruel, have produced much discontent, because they operate upon the surface of life, and make every eye bear witness to subjection. to be compelled to a new dress has always been found painful. their chiefs being now deprived of their jurisdiction, have already lost much of their influence; and as they gradually degenerate from patriarchal rulers to rapacious landlords, they will divest themselves of the little that remains. that dignity which they derived from an opinion of their military importance, the law, which disarmed them, has abated. an old gentleman, delighting himself with the recollection of better days, related, that forty years ago, a chieftain walked out attended by ten or twelve followers, with their arms rattling. that animating rabble has now ceased. the chief has lost his formidable retinue; and the highlander walks his heath unarmed and defenceless, with the peaceable submission of a french peasant or english cottager. their ignorance grows every day less, but their knowledge is yet of little other use than to shew them their wants. they are now in the period of education, and feel the uneasiness of discipline, without yet perceiving the benefit of instruction. the last law, by which the highlanders are deprived of their arms, has operated with efficacy beyond expectation. of former statutes made with the same design, the execution had been feeble, and the effect inconsiderable. concealment was undoubtedly practised, and perhaps often with connivance. there was tenderness, or partiality, on one side, and obstinacy on the other. but the law, which followed the victory of culloden, found the whole nation dejected and intimidated; informations were given without danger, and without fear, and the arms were collected with such rigour, that every house was despoiled of its defence. to disarm part of the highlands, could give no reasonable occasion of complaint. every government must be allowed the power of taking away the weapon that is lifted against it. but the loyal clans murmured, with some appearance of justice, that after having defended the king, they were forbidden for the future to defend themselves; and that the sword should be forfeited, which had been legally employed. their case is undoubtedly hard, but in political regulations, good cannot be complete, it can only be predominant. whether by disarming a people thus broken into several tribes, and thus remote from the seat of power, more good than evil has been produced, may deserve inquiry. the supreme power in every community has the right of debarring every individual, and every subordinate society from self-defence, only because the supreme power is able to defend them; and therefore where the governor cannot act, he must trust the subject to act for himself. these islands might be wasted with fire and sword before their sovereign would know their distress. a gang of robbers, such as has been lately found confederating themselves in the highlands, might lay a wide region under contribution. the crew of a petty privateer might land on the largest and most wealthy of the islands, and riot without control in cruelty and waste. it was observed by one of the chiefs of sky, that fifty armed men might, without resistance ravage the country. laws that place the subjects in such a state, contravene the first principles of the compact of authority: they exact obedience, and yield no protection. it affords a generous and manly pleasure to conceive a little nation gathering its fruits and tending its herds with fearless confidence, though it lies open on every side to invasion, where, in contempt of walls and trenches, every man sleeps securely with his sword beside him; where all on the first approach of hostility came together at the call to battle, as at a summons to a festal show; and committing their cattle to the care of those whom age or nature has disabled, engage the enemy with that competition for hazard and for glory, which operate in men that fight under the eye of those, whose dislike or kindness they have always considered as the greatest evil or the greatest good. this was, in the beginning of the present century, the state of the highlands. every man was a soldier, who partook of national confidence, and interested himself in national honour. to lose this spirit, is to lose what no small advantage will compensate. it may likewise deserve to be inquired, whether a great nation ought to be totally commercial? whether amidst the uncertainty of human affairs, too much attention to one mode of happiness may not endanger others? whether the pride of riches must not sometimes have recourse to the protection of courage? and whether, if it be necessary to preserve in some part of the empire the military spirit, it can subsist more commodiously in any place, than in remote and unprofitable provinces, where it can commonly do little harm, and whence it may be called forth at any sudden exigence? it must however be confessed, that a man, who places honour only in successful violence, is a very troublesome and pernicious animal in time of peace; and that the martial character cannot prevail in a whole people, but by the diminution of all other virtues. he that is accustomed to resolve all right into conquest, will have very little tenderness or equity. all the friendship in such a life can be only a confederacy of invasion, or alliance of defence. the strong must flourish by force, and the weak subsist by stratagem. till the highlanders lost their ferocity, with their arms, they suffered from each other all that malignity could dictate, or precipitance could act. every provocation was revenged with blood, and no man that ventured into a numerous company, by whatever occasion brought together, was sure of returning without a wound. if they are now exposed to foreign hostilities, they may talk of the danger, but can seldom feel it. if they are no longer martial, they are no longer quarrelsome. misery is caused for the most part, not by a heavy crush of disaster, but by the corrosion of less visible evils, which canker enjoyment, and undermine security. the visit of an invader is necessarily rare, but domestick animosities allow no cessation. the abolition of the local jurisdictions, which had for so many ages been exercised by the chiefs, has likewise its evil and its good. the feudal constitution naturally diffused itself into long ramifications of subordinate authority. to this general temper of the government was added the peculiar form of the country, broken by mountains into many subdivisions scarcely accessible but to the natives, and guarded by passes, or perplexed with intricacies, through which national justice could not find its way. the power of deciding controversies, and of punishing offences, as some such power there must always be, was intrusted to the lairds of the country, to those whom the people considered as their natural judges. it cannot be supposed that a rugged proprietor of the rocks, unprincipled and unenlightened, was a nice resolver of entangled claims, or very exact in proportioning punishment to offences. but the more he indulged his own will, the more he held his vassals in dependence. prudence and innocence, without the favour of the chief, conferred no security; and crimes involved no danger, when the judge was resolute to acquit. when the chiefs were men of knowledge and virtue, the convenience of a domestick judicature was great. no long journies were necessary, nor artificial delays could be practised; the character, the alliances, and interests of the litigants were known to the court, and all false pretences were easily detected. the sentence, when it was past, could not be evaded; the power of the laird superseded formalities, and justice could not be defeated by interest or stratagem. i doubt not but that since the regular judges have made their circuits through the whole country, right has been every where more wisely, and more equally distributed; the complaint is, that litigation is grown troublesome, and that the magistrates are too few, and therefore often too remote for general convenience. many of the smaller islands have no legal officer within them. i once asked, if a crime should be committed, by what authority the offender could be seized? and was told, that the laird would exert his right; a right which he must now usurp, but which surely necessity must vindicate, and which is therefore yet exercised in lower degrees, by some of the proprietors, when legal processes cannot be obtained. in all greater questions, however, there is now happily an end to all fear or hope from malice or from favour. the roads are secure in those places through which, forty years ago, no traveller could pass without a convoy. all trials of right by the sword are forgotten, and the mean are in as little danger from the powerful as in other places. no scheme of policy has, in any country, yet brought the rich and poor on equal terms into courts of judicature. perhaps experience, improving on experience, may in time effect it. those who have long enjoyed dignity and power, ought not to lose it without some equivalent. there was paid to the chiefs by the publick, in exchange for their privileges, perhaps a sum greater than most of them had ever possessed, which excited a thirst for riches, of which it shewed them the use. when the power of birth and station ceases, no hope remains but from the prevalence of money. power and wealth supply the place of each other. power confers the ability of gratifying our desire without the consent of others. wealth enables us to obtain the consent of others to our gratification. power, simply considered, whatever it confers on one, must take from another. wealth enables its owner to give to others, by taking only from himself. power pleases the violent and proud: wealth delights the placid and the timorous. youth therefore flies at power, and age grovels after riches. the chiefs, divested of their prerogatives, necessarily turned their thoughts to the improvement of their revenues, and expect more rent, as they have less homage. the tenant, who is far from perceiving that his condition is made better in the same proportion, as that of his landlord is made worse, does not immediately see why his industry is to be taxed more heavily than before. he refuses to pay the demand, and is ejected; the ground is then let to a stranger, who perhaps brings a larger stock, but who, taking the land at its full price, treats with the laird upon equal terms, and considers him not as a chief, but as a trafficker in land. thus the estate perhaps is improved, but the clan is broken. it seems to be the general opinion, that the rents have been raised with too much eagerness. some regard must be paid to prejudice. those who have hitherto paid but little, will not suddenly be persuaded to pay much, though they can afford it. as ground is gradually improved, and the value of money decreases, the rent may be raised without any diminution of the farmer's profits: yet it is necessary in these countries, where the ejection of a tenant is a greater evil, than in more populous places, to consider not merely what the land will produce, but with what ability the inhabitant can cultivate it. a certain stock can allow but a certain payment; for if the land be doubled, and the stock remains the same, the tenant becomes no richer. the proprietors of the highlands might perhaps often increase their income, by subdividing the farms, and allotting to every occupier only so many acres as he can profitably employ, but that they want people. there seems now, whatever be the cause, to be through a great part of the highlands a general discontent. that adherence, which was lately professed by every man to the chief of his name, has now little prevalence; and he that cannot live as he desires at home, listens to the tale of fortunate islands, and happy regions, where every man may have land of his own, and eat the product of his labour without a superior. those who have obtained grants of american lands, have, as is well known, invited settlers from all quarters of the globe; and among other places, where oppression might produce a wish for new habitations, their emissaries would not fail to try their persuasions in the isles of scotland, where at the time when the clans were newly disunited from their chiefs, and exasperated by unprecedented exactions, it is no wonder that they prevailed. whether the mischiefs of emigration were immediately perceived, may be justly questioned. they who went first, were probably such as could best be spared; but the accounts sent by the earliest adventurers, whether true or false, inclined many to follow them; and whole neighbourhoods formed parties for removal; so that departure from their native country is no longer exile. he that goes thus accompanied, carries with him all that makes life pleasant. he sits down in a better climate, surrounded by his kindred and his friends: they carry with them their language, their opinions, their popular songs, and hereditary merriment: they change nothing but the place of their abode; and of that change they perceive the benefit. this is the real effect of emigration, if those that go away together settle on the same spot, and preserve their ancient union. but some relate that these adventurous visitants of unknown regions, after a voyage passed in dreams of plenty and felicity, are dispersed at last upon a sylvan wilderness, where their first years must be spent in toil, to clear the ground which is afterwards to be tilled, and that the whole effect of their undertakings is only more fatigue and equal scarcity. both accounts may be suspected. those who are gone will endeavour by every art to draw others after them; for as their numbers are greater, they will provide better for themselves. when nova scotia was first peopled, i remember a letter, published under the character of a new planter, who related how much the climate put him in mind of italy. such intelligence the hebridians probably receive from their transmarine correspondents. but with equal temptations of interest, and perhaps with no greater niceness of veracity, the owners of the islands spread stories of american hardships to keep their people content at home. some method to stop this epidemick desire of wandering, which spreads its contagion from valley to valley, deserves to be sought with great diligence. in more fruitful countries, the removal of one only makes room for the succession of another: but in the hebrides, the loss of an inhabitant leaves a lasting vacuity; for nobody born in any other parts of the world will choose this country for his residence, and an island once depopulated will remain a desert, as long as the present facility of travel gives every one, who is discontented and unsettled, the choice of his abode. let it be inquired, whether the first intention of those who are fluttering on the wing, and collecting a flock that they may take their flight, be to attain good, or to avoid evil. if they are dissatisfied with that part of the globe, which their birth has allotted them, and resolve not to live without the pleasures of happier climates; if they long for bright suns, and calm skies, and flowery fields, and fragrant gardens, i know not by what eloquence they can be persuaded, or by what offers they can be hired to stay. but if they are driven from their native country by positive evils, and disgusted by ill-treatment, real or imaginary, it were fit to remove their grievances, and quiet their resentment; since, if they have been hitherto undutiful subjects, they will not much mend their principles by american conversation. to allure them into the army, it was thought proper to indulge them in the continuance of their national dress. if this concession could have any effect, it might easily be made. that dissimilitude of appearance, which was supposed to keep them distinct from the rest of the nation, might disincline them from coalescing with the pensylvanians, or people of connecticut. if the restitution of their arms will reconcile them to their country, let them have again those weapons, which will not be more mischievous at home than in the colonies. that they may not fly from the increase of rent, i know not whether the general good does not require that the landlords be, for a time, restrained in their demands, and kept quiet by pensions proportionate to their loss. to hinder insurrection, by driving away the people, and to govern peaceably, by having no subjects, is an expedient that argues no great profundity of politicks. to soften the obdurate, to convince the mistaken, to mollify the resentful, are worthy of a statesman; but it affords a legislator little self-applause to consider, that where there was formerly an insurrection, there is now a wilderness. it has been a question often agitated without solution, why those northern regions are now so thinly peopled, which formerly overwhelmed with their armies the roman empire. the question supposes what i believe is not true, that they had once more inhabitants than they could maintain, and overflowed only because they were full. this is to estimate the manners of all countries and ages by our own. migration, while the state of life was unsettled, and there was little communication of intelligence between distant places, was among the wilder nations of europe, capricious and casual. an adventurous projector heard of a fertile coast unoccupied, and led out a colony; a chief of renown for bravery, called the young men together, and led them out to try what fortune would present. when caesar was in gaul, he found the helvetians preparing to go they knew not whither, and put a stop to their motions. they settled again in their own country, where they were so far from wanting room, that they had accumulated three years provision for their march. the religion of the north was military; if they could not find enemies, it was their duty to make them: they travelled in quest of danger, and willingly took the chance of empire or death. if their troops were numerous, the countries from which they were collected are of vast extent, and without much exuberance of people great armies may be raised where every man is a soldier. but their true numbers were never known. those who were conquered by them are their historians, and shame may have excited them to say, that they were overwhelmed with multitudes. to count is a modern practice, the ancient method was to guess; and when numbers are guessed they are always magnified. thus england has for several years been filled with the atchievements of seventy thousand highlanders employed in america. i have heard from an english officer, not much inclined to favour them, that their behaviour deserved a very high degree of military praise; but their number has been much exaggerated. one of the ministers told me, that seventy thousand men could not have been found in all the highlands, and that more than twelve thousand never took the field. those that went to the american war, went to destruction. of the old highland regiment, consisting of twelve hundred, only seventy-six survived to see their country again. the gothick swarms have at least been multiplied with equal liberality. that they bore no great proportion to the inhabitants, in whose countries they settled, is plain from the paucity of northern words now found in the provincial languages. their country was not deserted for want of room, because it was covered with forests of vast extent; and the first effect of plenitude of inhabitants is the destruction of wood. as the europeans spread over america the lands are gradually laid naked. i would not be understood to say, that necessity had never any part in their expeditions. a nation, whose agriculture is scanty or unskilful, may be driven out by famine. a nation of hunters may have exhausted their game. i only affirm that the northern regions were not, when their irruptions subdued the romans, overpeopled with regard to their real extent of territory, and power of fertility. in a country fully inhabited, however afterward laid waste, evident marks will remain of its former populousness. but of scandinavia and germany, nothing is known but that as we trace their state upwards into antiquity, their woods were greater, and their cultivated ground was less. that causes were different from want of room may produce a general disposition to seek another country is apparent from the present conduct of the highlanders, who are in some places ready to threaten a total secession. the numbers which have already gone, though like other numbers they may be magnified, are very great, and such as if they had gone together and agreed upon any certain settlement, might have founded an independent government in the depths of the western continent. nor are they only the lowest and most indigent; many men of considerable wealth have taken with them their train of labourers and dependants; and if they continue the feudal scheme of polity, may establish new clans in the other hemisphere. that the immediate motives of their desertion must be imputed to their landlords, may be reasonably concluded, because some lairds of more prudence and less rapacity have kept their vassals undiminished. from raasa only one man had been seduced, and at col there was no wish to go away. the traveller who comes hither from more opulent countries, to speculate upon the remains of pastoral life, will not much wonder that a common highlander has no strong adherence to his native soil; for of animal enjoyments, or of physical good, he leaves nothing that he may not find again wheresoever he may be thrown. the habitations of men in the hebrides may be distinguished into huts and houses. by a house, i mean a building with one story over another; by a hut, a dwelling with only one floor. the laird, who formerly lived in a castle, now lives in a house; sometimes sufficiently neat, but seldom very spacious or splendid. the tacksmen and the ministers have commonly houses. wherever there is a house, the stranger finds a welcome, and to the other evils of exterminating tacksmen may be added the unavoidable cessation of hospitality, or the devolution of too heavy a burden on the ministers. of the houses little can be said. they are small, and by the necessity of accumulating stores, where there are so few opportunities of purchase, the rooms are very heterogeneously filled. with want of cleanliness it were ingratitude to reproach them. the servants having been bred upon the naked earth, think every floor clean, and the quick succession of guests, perhaps not always over-elegant, does not allow much time for adjusting their apartments. huts are of many gradations; from murky dens, to commodious dwellings. the wall of a common hut is always built without mortar, by a skilful adaptation of loose stones. sometimes perhaps a double wall of stones is raised, and the intermediate space filled with earth. the air is thus completely excluded. some walls are, i think, formed of turfs, held together by a wattle, or texture of twigs. of the meanest huts, the first room is lighted by the entrance, and the second by the smoke hole. the fire is usually made in the middle. but there are huts, or dwellings of only one story, inhabited by gentlemen, which have walls cemented with mortar, glass windows, and boarded floors. of these all have chimneys, and some chimneys have grates. the house and the furniture are not always nicely suited. we were driven once, by missing a passage, to the hut of a gentleman, where, after a very liberal supper, when i was conducted to my chamber, i found an elegant bed of indian cotton, spread with fine sheets. the accommodation was flattering; i undressed myself, and felt my feet in the mire. the bed stood upon the bare earth, which a long course of rain had softened to a puddle. in pastoral countries the condition of the lowest rank of people is sufficiently wretched. among manufacturers, men that have no property may have art and industry, which make them necessary, and therefore valuable. but where flocks and corn are the only wealth, there are always more hands than work, and of that work there is little in which skill and dexterity can be much distinguished. he therefore who is born poor never can be rich. the son merely occupies the place of the father, and life knows nothing of progression or advancement. the petty tenants, and labouring peasants, live in miserable cabins, which afford them little more than shelter from the storms. the boor of norway is said to make all his own utensils. in the hebrides, whatever might be their ingenuity, the want of wood leaves them no materials. they are probably content with such accommodations as stones of different forms and sizes can afford them. their food is not better than their lodging. they seldom taste the flesh of land animals; for here are no markets. what each man eats is from his own stock. the great effect of money is to break property into small parts. in towns, he that has a shilling may have a piece of meat; but where there is no commerce, no man can eat mutton but by killing a sheep. fish in fair weather they need not want; but, i believe, man never lives long on fish, but by constraint; he will rather feed upon roots and berries. the only fewel of the islands is peat. their wood is all consumed, and coal they have not yet found. peat is dug out of the marshes, from the depth of one foot to that of six. that is accounted the best which is nearest the surface. it appears to be a mass of black earth held together by vegetable fibres. i know not whether the earth be bituminous, or whether the fibres be not the only combustible part; which, by heating the interposed earth red hot, make a burning mass. the heat is not very strong nor lasting. the ashes are yellowish, and in a large quantity. when they dig peat, they cut it into square pieces, and pile it up to dry beside the house. in some places it has an offensive smell. it is like wood charked for the smith. the common method of making peat fires, is by heaping it on the hearth; but it burns well in grates, and in the best houses is so used. the common opinion is, that peat grows again where it has been cut; which, as it seems to be chiefly a vegetable substance, is not unlikely to be true, whether known or not to those who relate it. there are water mills in sky and raasa; but where they are too far distant, the house-wives grind their oats with a quern, or hand-mill, which consists of two stones, about a foot and a half in diameter; the lower is a little convex, to which the concavity of the upper must be fitted. in the middle of the upper stone is a round hole, and on one side is a long handle. the grinder sheds the corn gradually into the hole with one hand, and works the handle round with the other. the corn slides down the convexity of the lower stone, and by the motion of the upper is ground in its passage. these stones are found in lochabar. the islands afford few pleasures, except to the hardy sportsman, who can tread the moor and climb the mountain. the distance of one family from another, in a country where travelling has so much difficulty, makes frequent intercourse impracticable. visits last several days, and are commonly paid by water; yet i never saw a boat furnished with benches, or made commodious by any addition to the first fabric. conveniences are not missed where they never were enjoyed. the solace which the bagpipe can give, they have long enjoyed; but among other changes, which the last revolution introduced, the use of the bagpipe begins to be forgotten. some of the chief families still entertain a piper, whose office was anciently hereditary. macrimmon was piper to macleod, and rankin to maclean of col. the tunes of the bagpipe are traditional. there has been in sky, beyond all time of memory, a college of pipers, under the direction of macrimmon, which is not quite extinct. there was another in mull, superintended by rankin, which expired about sixteen years ago. to these colleges, while the pipe retained its honour, the students of musick repaired for education. i have had my dinner exhilarated by the bagpipe, at armidale, at dunvegan, and in col. the general conversation of the islanders has nothing particular. i did not meet with the inquisitiveness of which i have read, and suspect the judgment to have been rashly made. a stranger of curiosity comes into a place where a stranger is seldom seen: he importunes the people with questions, of which they cannot guess the motive, and gazes with surprise on things which they, having had them always before their eyes, do not suspect of any thing wonderful. he appears to them like some being of another world, and then thinks it peculiar that they take their turn to inquire whence he comes, and whither he is going. the islands were long unfurnished with instruction for youth, and none but the sons of gentlemen could have any literature. there are now parochial schools, to which the lord of every manor pays a certain stipend. here the children are taught to read; but by the rule of their institution, they teach only english, so that the natives read a language which they may never use or understand. if a parish, which often happens, contains several islands, the school being but in one, cannot assist the rest. this is the state of col, which, however, is more enlightened than some other places; for the deficiency is supplied by a young gentleman, who, for his own improvement, travels every year on foot over the highlands to the session at aberdeen; and at his return, during the vacation, teaches to read and write in his native island. in sky there are two grammar schools, where boarders are taken to be regularly educated. the price of board is from three pounds, to four pounds ten shillings a year, and that of instruction is half a crown a quarter. but the scholars are birds of passage, who live at school only in the summer; for in winter provisions cannot be made for any considerable number in one place. this periodical dispersion impresses strongly the scarcity of these countries. having heard of no boarding-school for ladies nearer than inverness, i suppose their education is generally domestick. the elder daughters of the higher families are sent into the world, and may contribute by their acquisitions to the improvement of the rest. women must here study to be either pleasing or useful. their deficiencies are seldom supplied by very liberal fortunes. a hundred pounds is a portion beyond the hope of any but the laird's daughter. they do not indeed often give money with their daughters; the question is, how many cows a young lady will bring her husband. a rich maiden has from ten to forty; but two cows are a decent fortune for one who pretends to no distinction. the religion of the islands is that of the kirk of scotland. the gentlemen with whom i conversed are all inclined to the english liturgy; but they are obliged to maintain the established minister, and the country is too poor to afford payment to another, who must live wholly on the contribution of his audience. they therefore all attend the worship of the kirk, as often as a visit from their minister, or the practicability of travelling gives them opportunity; nor have they any reason to complain of insufficient pastors; for i saw not one in the islands, whom i had reason to think either deficient in learning, or irregular in life: but found several with whom i could not converse without wishing, as my respect increased, that they had not been presbyterians. the ancient rigour of puritanism is now very much relaxed, though all are not yet equally enlightened. i sometimes met with prejudices sufficiently malignant, but they were prejudices of ignorance. the ministers in the islands had attained such knowledge as may justly be admired in men, who have no motive to study, but generous curiosity, or, what is still better, desire of usefulness; with such politeness as so narrow a circle of converse could not have supplied, but to minds naturally disposed to elegance. reason and truth will prevail at last. the most learned of the scottish doctors would now gladly admit a form of prayer, if the people would endure it. the zeal or rage of congregations has its different degrees. in some parishes the lord's prayer is suffered: in others it is still rejected as a form; and he that should make it part of his supplication would be suspected of heretical pravity. the principle upon which extemporary prayer was originally introduced, is no longer admitted. the minister formerly, in the effusion of his prayer, expected immediate, and perhaps perceptible inspiration, and therefore thought it his duty not to think before what he should say. it is now universally confessed, that men pray as they speak on other occasions, according to the general measure of their abilities and attainments. whatever each may think of a form prescribed by another, he cannot but believe that he can himself compose by study and meditation a better prayer than will rise in his mind at a sudden call; and if he has any hope of supernatural help, why may he not as well receive it when he writes as when he speaks? in the variety of mental powers, some must perform extemporary prayer with much imperfection; and in the eagerness and rashness of contradictory opinions, if publick liturgy be left to the private judgment of every minister, the congregation may often be offended or misled. there is in scotland, as among ourselves, a restless suspicion of popish machinations, and a clamour of numerous converts to the romish religion. the report is, i believe, in both parts of the island equally false. the romish religion is professed only in egg and canna, two small islands, into which the reformation never made its way. if any missionaries are busy in the highlands, their zeal entitles them to respect, even from those who cannot think favourably of their doctrine. the political tenets of the islanders i was not curious to investigate, and they were not eager to obtrude. their conversation is decent and inoffensive. they disdain to drink for their principles, and there is no disaffection at their tables. i never heard a health offered by a highlander that might not have circulated with propriety within the precincts of the king's palace. legal government has yet something of novelty to which they cannot perfectly conform. the ancient spirit, that appealed only to the sword, is yet among them. the tenant of scalpa, an island belonging to macdonald, took no care to bring his rent; when the landlord talked of exacting payment, he declared his resolution to keep his ground, and drive all intruders from the island, and continued to feed his cattle as on his own land, till it became necessary for the sheriff to dislodge him by violence. the various kinds of superstition which prevailed here, as in all other regions of ignorance, are by the diligence of the ministers almost extirpated. of browny, mentioned by martin, nothing has been heard for many years. browny was a sturdy fairy; who, if he was fed, and kindly treated, would, as they said, do a great deal of work. they now pay him no wages, and are content to labour for themselves. in troda, within these three-and-thirty years, milk was put every saturday for greogach, or 'the old man with the long beard.' whether greogach was courted as kind, or dreaded as terrible, whether they meant, by giving him the milk, to obtain good, or avert evil, i was not informed. the minister is now living by whom the practice was abolished. they have still among them a great number of charms for the cure of different diseases; they are all invocations, perhaps transmitted to them from the times of popery, which increasing knowledge will bring into disuse. they have opinions, which cannot be ranked with superstition, because they regard only natural effects. they expect better crops of grain, by sowing their seed in the moon's increase. the moon has great influence in vulgar philosophy. in my memory it was a precept annually given in one of the english almanacks, 'to kill hogs when the moon was increasing, and the bacon would prove the better in boiling.' we should have had little claim to the praise of curiosity, if we had not endeavoured with particular attention to examine the question of the second sight. of an opinion received for centuries by a whole nation, and supposed to be confirmed through its whole descent, by a series of successive facts, it is desirable that the truth should be established, or the fallacy detected. the second sight is an impression made either by the mind upon the eye, or by the eye upon the mind, by which things distant or future are perceived, and seen as if they were present. a man on a journey far from home falls from his horse, another, who is perhaps at work about the house, sees him bleeding on the ground, commonly with a landscape of the place where the accident befalls him. another seer, driving home his cattle, or wandering in idleness, or musing in the sunshine, is suddenly surprised by the appearance of a bridal ceremony, or funeral procession, and counts the mourners or attendants, of whom, if he knows them, he relates the names, if he knows them not, he can describe the dresses. things distant are seen at the instant when they happen. of things future i know not that there is any rule for determining the time between the sight and the event. this receptive faculty, for power it cannot be called, is neither voluntary nor constant. the appearances have no dependence upon choice: they cannot be summoned, detained, or recalled. the impression is sudden, and the effect often painful. by the term second sight, seems to be meant a mode of seeing, superadded to that which nature generally bestows. in the earse it is called taisch; which signifies likewise a spectre, or a vision. i know not, nor is it likely that the highlanders ever examined, whether by taisch, used for second sight, they mean the power of seeing, or the thing seen. i do not find it to be true, as it is reported, that to the second sight nothing is presented but phantoms of evil. good seems to have the same proportions in those visionary scenes, as it obtains in real life: almost all remarkable events have evil for their basis; and are either miseries incurred, or miseries escaped. our sense is so much stronger of what we suffer, than of what we enjoy, that the ideas of pain predominate in almost every mind. what is recollection but a revival of vexations, or history but a record of wars, treasons, and calamities? death, which is considered as the greatest evil, happens to all. the greatest good, be it what it will, is the lot but of a part. that they should often see death is to be expected; because death is an event frequent and important. but they see likewise more pleasing incidents. a gentleman told me, that when he had once gone far from his own island, one of his labouring servants predicted his return, and described the livery of his attendant, which he had never worn at home; and which had been, without any previous design, occasionally given him. our desire of information was keen, and our inquiry frequent. mr. boswell's frankness and gaiety made every body communicative; and we heard many tales of these airy shows, with more or less evidence and distinctness. it is the common talk of the lowland scots, that the notion of the second sight is wearing away with other superstitions; and that its reality is no longer supposed, but by the grossest people. how far its prevalence ever extended, or what ground it has lost, i know not. the islanders of all degrees, whether of rank or understanding, universally admit it, except the ministers, who universally deny it, and are suspected to deny it, in consequence of a system, against conviction. one of them honestly told me, that he came to sky with a resolution not to believe it. strong reasons for incredulity will readily occur. this faculty of seeing things out of sight is local, and commonly useless. it is a breach of the common order of things, without any visible reason or perceptible benefit. it is ascribed only to a people very little enlightened; and among them, for the most part, to the mean and the ignorant. to the confidence of these objections it may be replied, that by presuming to determine what is fit, and what is beneficial, they presuppose more knowledge of the universal system than man has attained; and therefore depend upon principles too complicated and extensive for our comprehension; and that there can be no security in the consequence, when the premises are not understood; that the second sight is only wonderful because it is rare, for, considered in itself, it involves no more difficulty than dreams, or perhaps than the regular exercise of the cogitative faculty; that a general opinion of communicative impulses, or visionary representations, has prevailed in all ages and all nations; that particular instances have been given, with such evidence, as neither bacon nor bayle has been able to resist; that sudden impressions, which the event has verified, have been felt by more than own or publish them; that the second sight of the hebrides implies only the local frequency of a power, which is nowhere totally unknown; and that where we are unable to decide by antecedent reason, we must be content to yield to the force of testimony. by pretension to second sight, no profit was ever sought or gained. it is an involuntary affection, in which neither hope nor fear are known to have any part. those who profess to feel it, do not boast of it as a privilege, nor are considered by others as advantageously distinguished. they have no temptation to feign; and their hearers have no motive to encourage the imposture. to talk with any of these seers is not easy. there is one living in sky, with whom we would have gladly conversed; but he was very gross and ignorant, and knew no english. the proportion in these countries of the poor to the rich is such, that if we suppose the quality to be accidental, it can very rarely happen to a man of education; and yet on such men it has sometimes fallen. there is now a second sighted gentleman in the highlands, who complains of the terrors to which he is exposed. the foresight of the seers is not always prescience; they are impressed with images, of which the event only shews them the meaning. they tell what they have seen to others, who are at that time not more knowing than themselves, but may become at last very adequate witnesses, by comparing the narrative with its verification. to collect sufficient testimonies for the satisfaction of the publick, or of ourselves, would have required more time than we could bestow. there is, against it, the seeming analogy of things confusedly seen, and little understood, and for it, the indistinct cry of national persuasion, which may be perhaps resolved at last into prejudice and tradition. i never could advance my curiosity to conviction; but came away at last only willing to believe. as there subsists no longer in the islands much of that peculiar and discriminative form of life, of which the idea had delighted our imagination, we were willing to listen to such accounts of past times as would be given us. but we soon found what memorials were to be expected from an illiterate people, whose whole time is a series of distress; where every morning is labouring with expedients for the evening; and where all mental pains or pleasure arose from the dread of winter, the expectation of spring, the caprices of their chiefs, and the motions of the neighbouring clans; where there was neither shame from ignorance, nor pride in knowledge; neither curiosity to inquire, nor vanity to communicate. the chiefs indeed were exempt from urgent penury, and daily difficulties; and in their houses were preserved what accounts remained of past ages. but the chiefs were sometimes ignorant and careless, and sometimes kept busy by turbulence and contention; and one generation of ignorance effaces the whole series of unwritten history. books are faithful repositories, which may be a while neglected or forgotten; but when they are opened again, will again impart their instruction: memory, once interrupted, is not to be recalled. written learning is a fixed luminary, which, after the cloud that had hidden it has past away, is again bright in its proper station. tradition is but a meteor, which, if once it falls, cannot be rekindled. it seems to be universally supposed, that much of the local history was preserved by the bards, of whom one is said to have been retained by every great family. after these bards were some of my first inquiries; and i received such answers as, for a while, made me please myself with my increase of knowledge; for i had not then learned how to estimate the narration of a highlander. they said that a great family had a bard and a senachi, who were the poet and historian of the house; and an old gentleman told me that he remembered one of each. here was a dawn of intelligence. of men that had lived within memory, some certain knowledge might be attained. though the office had ceased, its effects might continue; the poems might be found, though there was no poet. another conversation indeed informed me, that the same man was both bard and senachi. this variation discouraged me; but as the practice might be different in different times, or at the same time in different families, there was yet no reason for supposing that i must necessarily sit down in total ignorance. soon after i was told by a gentleman, who is generally acknowledged the greatest master of hebridian antiquities, that there had indeed once been both bards and senachies; and that senachi signified 'the man of talk,' or of conversation; but that neither bard nor senachi had existed for some centuries. i have no reason to suppose it exactly known at what time the custom ceased, nor did it probably cease in all houses at once. but whenever the practice of recitation was disused, the works, whether poetical or historical, perished with the authors; for in those times nothing had been written in the earse language. whether the 'man of talk' was a historian, whose office was to tell truth, or a story-teller, like those which were in the last century, and perhaps are now among the irish, whose trade was only to amuse, it now would be vain to inquire. most of the domestick offices were, i believe, hereditary; and probably the laureat of a clan was always the son of the last laureat. the history of the race could no otherwise be communicated, or retained; but what genius could be expected in a poet by inheritance? the nation was wholly illiterate. neither bards nor senachies could write or read; but if they were ignorant, there was no danger of detection; they were believed by those whose vanity they flattered. the recital of genealogies, which has been considered as very efficacious to the preservation of a true series of ancestry, was anciently made, when the heir of the family came to manly age. this practice has never subsisted within time of memory, nor was much credit due to such rehearsers, who might obtrude fictitious pedigrees, either to please their masters, or to hide the deficiency of their own memories. where the chiefs of the highlands have found the histories of their descent is difficult to tell; for no earse genealogy was ever written. in general this only is evident, that the principal house of a clan must be very ancient, and that those must have lived long in a place, of whom it is not known when they came thither. thus hopeless are all attempts to find any traces of highland learning. nor are their primitive customs and ancient manner of life otherwise than very faintly and uncertainly remembered by the present race. the peculiarities which strike the native of a commercial country, proceeded in a great measure from the want of money. to the servants and dependents that were not domesticks, and if an estimate be made from the capacity of any of their old houses which i have seen, their domesticks could have been but few, were appropriated certain portions of land for their support. macdonald has a piece of ground yet, called the bards or senachies field. when a beef was killed for the house, particular parts were claimed as fees by the several officers, or workmen. what was the right of each i have not learned. the head belonged to the smith, and the udder of a cow to the piper: the weaver had likewise his particular part; and so many pieces followed these prescriptive claims, that the laird's was at last but little. the payment of rent in kind has been so long disused in england, that it is totally forgotten. it was practised very lately in the hebrides, and probably still continues, not only in st. kilda, where money is not yet known, but in others of the smaller and remoter islands. it were perhaps to be desired, that no change in this particular should have been made. when the laird could only eat the produce of his lands, he was under the necessity of residing upon them; and when the tenant could not convert his stock into more portable riches, he could never be tempted away from his farm, from the only place where he could be wealthy. money confounds subordination, by overpowering the distinctions of rank and birth, and weakens authority by supplying power of resistance, or expedients for escape. the feudal system is formed for a nation employed in agriculture, and has never long kept its hold where gold and silver have become common. their arms were anciently the glaymore, or great two-handed sword, and afterwards the two-edged sword and target, or buckler, which was sustained on the left arm. in the midst of the target, which was made of wood, covered with leather, and studded with nails, a slender lance, about two feet long, was sometimes fixed; it was heavy and cumberous, and accordingly has for some time past been gradually laid aside. very few targets were at culloden. the dirk, or broad dagger, i am afraid, was of more use in private quarrels than in battles. the lochaber-ax is only a slight alteration of the old english bill. after all that has been said of the force and terrour of the highland sword, i could not find that the art of defence was any part of common education. the gentlemen were perhaps sometimes skilful gladiators, but the common men had no other powers than those of violence and courage. yet it is well known, that the onset of the highlanders was very formidable. as an army cannot consist of philosophers, a panick is easily excited by any unwonted mode of annoyance. new dangers are naturally magnified; and men accustomed only to exchange bullets at a distance, and rather to hear their enemies than see them, are discouraged and amazed when they find themselves encountered hand to hand, and catch the gleam of steel flashing in their faces. the highland weapons gave opportunity for many exertions of personal courage, and sometimes for single combats in the field; like those which occur so frequently in fabulous wars. at falkirk, a gentleman now living, was, i suppose after the retreat of the king's troops, engaged at a distance from the rest with an irish dragoon. they were both skilful swordsmen, and the contest was not easily decided: the dragoon at last had the advantage, and the highlander called for quarter; but quarter was refused him, and the fight continued till he was reduced to defend himself upon his knee. at that instant one of the macleods came to his rescue; who, as it is said, offered quarter to the dragoon, but he thought himself obliged to reject what he had before refused, and, as battle gives little time to deliberate, was immediately killed. funerals were formerly solemnized by calling multitudes together, and entertaining them at great expence. this emulation of useless cost has been for some time discouraged, and at last in the isle of sky is almost suppressed. of the earse language, as i understand nothing, i cannot say more than i have been told. it is the rude speech of a barbarous people, who had few thoughts to express, and were content, as they conceived grossly, to be grossly understood. after what has been lately talked of highland bards, and highland genius, many will startle when they are told, that the earse never was a written language; that there is not in the world an earse manuscript a hundred years old; and that the sounds of the highlanders were never expressed by letters, till some little books of piety were translated, and a metrical version of the psalms was made by the synod of argyle. whoever therefore now writes in this language, spells according to his own perception of the sound, and his own idea of the power of the letters. the welsh and the irish are cultivated tongues. the welsh, two hundred years ago, insulted their english neighbours for the instability of their orthography; while the earse merely floated in the breath of the people, and could therefore receive little improvement. when a language begins to teem with books, it is tending to refinement; as those who undertake to teach others must have undergone some labour in improving themselves, they set a proportionate value on their own thoughts, and wish to enforce them by efficacious expressions; speech becomes embodied and permanent; different modes and phrases are compared, and the best obtains an establishment. by degrees one age improves upon another. exactness is first obtained, and afterwards elegance. but diction, merely vocal, is always in its childhood. as no man leaves his eloquence behind him, the new generations have all to learn. there may possibly be books without a polished language, but there can be no polished language without books. that the bards could not read more than the rest of their countrymen, it is reasonable to suppose; because, if they had read, they could probably have written; and how high their compositions may reasonably be rated, an inquirer may best judge by considering what stores of imagery, what principles of ratiocination, what comprehension of knowledge, and what delicacy of elocution he has known any man attain who cannot read. the state of the bards was yet more hopeless. he that cannot read, may now converse with those that can; but the bard was a barbarian among barbarians, who, knowing nothing himself, lived with others that knew no more. there has lately been in the islands one of these illiterate poets, who hearing the bible read at church, is said to have turned the sacred history into verse. i heard part of a dialogue, composed by him, translated by a young lady in mull, and thought it had more meaning than i expected from a man totally uneducated; but he had some opportunities of knowledge; he lived among a learned people. after all that has been done for the instruction of the highlanders, the antipathy between their language and literature still continues; and no man that has learned only earse is, at this time, able to read. the earse has many dialects, and the words used in some islands are not always known in others. in literate nations, though the pronunciation, and sometimes the words of common speech may differ, as now in england, compared with the south of scotland, yet there is a written diction, which pervades all dialects, and is understood in every province. but where the whole language is colloquial, he that has only one part, never gets the rest, as he cannot get it but by change of residence. in an unwritten speech, nothing that is not very short is transmitted from one generation to another. few have opportunities of hearing a long composition often enough to learn it, or have inclination to repeat it so often as is necessary to retain it; and what is once forgotten is lost for ever. i believe there cannot be recovered, in the whole earse language, five hundred lines of which there is any evidence to prove them a hundred years old. yet i hear that the father of ossian boasts of two chests more of ancient poetry, which he suppresses, because they are too good for the english. he that goes into the highlands with a mind naturally acquiescent, and a credulity eager for wonders, may come back with an opinion very different from mine; for the inhabitants knowing the ignorance of all strangers in their language and antiquities, perhaps are not very scrupulous adherents to truth; yet i do not say that they deliberately speak studied falsehood, or have a settled purpose to deceive. they have inquired and considered little, and do not always feel their own ignorance. they are not much accustomed to be interrogated by others; and seem never to have thought upon interrogating themselves; so that if they do not know what they tell to be true, they likewise do not distinctly perceive it to be false. mr. boswell was very diligent in his inquiries; and the result of his investigations was, that the answer to the second question was commonly such as nullified the answer to the first. we were a while told, that they had an old translation of the scriptures; and told it till it would appear obstinacy to inquire again. yet by continued accumulation of questions we found, that the translation meant, if any meaning there were, was nothing else than the irish bible. we heard of manuscripts that were, or that had been in the hands of somebody's father, or grandfather; but at last we had no reason to believe they were other than irish. martin mentions irish, but never any earse manuscripts, to be found in the islands in his time. i suppose my opinion of the poems of ossian is already discovered. i believe they never existed in any other form than that which we have seen. the editor, or author, never could shew the original; nor can it be shewn by any other; to revenge reasonable incredulity, by refusing evidence, is a degree of insolence, with which the world is not yet acquainted; and stubborn audacity is the last refuge of guilt. it would be easy to shew it if he had it; but whence could it be had? it is too long to be remembered, and the language formerly had nothing written. he has doubtless inserted names that circulate in popular stories, and may have translated some wandering ballads, if any can be found; and the names, and some of the images being recollected, make an inaccurate auditor imagine, by the help of caledonian bigotry, that he has formerly heard the whole. i asked a very learned minister in sky, who had used all arts to make me believe the genuineness of the book, whether at last he believed it himself? but he would not answer. he wished me to be deceived, for the honour of his country; but would not directly and formally deceive me. yet has this man's testimony been publickly produced, as of one that held fingal to be the work of ossian. it is said, that some men of integrity profess to have heard parts of it, but they all heard them when they were boys; and it was never said that any of them could recite six lines. they remember names, and perhaps some proverbial sentiments; and, having no distinct ideas, coin a resemblance without an original. the persuasion of the scots, however, is far from universal; and in a question so capable of proof, why should doubt be suffered to continue? the editor has been heard to say, that part of the poem was received by him, in the saxon character. he has then found, by some peculiar fortune, an unwritten language, written in a character which the natives probably never beheld. i have yet supposed no imposture but in the publisher, yet i am far from certainty, that some translations have not been lately made, that may now be obtruded as parts of the original work. credulity on one part is a strong temptation to deceit on the other, especially to deceit of which no personal injury is the consequence, and which flatters the author with his own ingenuity. the scots have something to plead for their easy reception of an improbable fiction; they are seduced by their fondness for their supposed ancestors. a scotchman must be a very sturdy moralist, who does not love scotland better than truth: he will always love it better than inquiry; and if falsehood flatters his vanity, will not be very diligent to detect it. neither ought the english to be much influenced by scotch authority; for of the past and present state of the whole earse nation, the lowlanders are at least as ignorant as ourselves. to be ignorant is painful; but it is dangerous to quiet our uneasiness by the delusive opiate of hasty persuasion. but this is the age, in which those who could not read, have been supposed to write; in which the giants of antiquated romance have been exhibited as realities. if we know little of the ancient highlanders, let us not fill the vacuity with ossian. if we had not searched the magellanick regions, let us however forbear to people them with patagons. having waited some days at armidel, we were flattered at last with a wind that promised to convey us to mull. we went on board a boat that was taking in kelp, and left the isle of sky behind us. we were doomed to experience, like others, the danger of trusting to the wind, which blew against us, in a short time, with such violence, that we, being no seasoned sailors, were willing to call it a tempest. i was sea-sick and lay down. mr. boswell kept the deck. the master knew not well whither to go; and our difficulties might perhaps have filled a very pathetick page, had not mr. maclean of col, who, with every other qualification which insular life requires, is a very active and skilful mariner, piloted us safe into his own harbour. col in the morning we found ourselves under the isle of col, where we landed; and passed the first day and night with captain maclean, a gentleman who has lived some time in the east indies; but having dethroned no nabob, is not too rich to settle in own country. next day the wind was fair, and we might have had an easy passage to mull; but having, contrarily to our own intention, landed upon a new island, we would not leave it wholly unexamined. we therefore suffered the vessel to depart without us, and trusted the skies for another wind. mr. maclean of col, having a very numerous family, has, for some time past, resided at aberdeen, that he may superintend their education, and leaves the young gentleman, our friend, to govern his dominions, with the full power of a highland chief. by the absence of the laird's family, our entertainment was made more difficult, because the house was in a great degree disfurnished; but young col's kindness and activity supplied all defects, and procured us more than sufficient accommodation. here i first mounted a little highland steed; and if there had been many spectators, should have been somewhat ashamed of my figure in the march. the horses of the islands, as of other barren countries, are very low: they are indeed musculous and strong, beyond what their size gives reason for expecting; but a bulky man upon one of their backs makes a very disproportionate appearance. from the habitation of captain maclean, we went to grissipol, but called by the way on mr. hector maclean, the minister of col, whom we found in a hut, that is, a house of only one floor, but with windows and chimney, and not inelegantly furnished. mr. maclean has the reputation of great learning: he is seventy-seven years old, but not infirm, with a look of venerable dignity, excelling what i remember in any other man. his conversation was not unsuitable to his appearance. i lost some of his good-will, by treating a heretical writer with more regard than, in his opinion, a heretick could deserve. i honoured his orthodoxy, and did not much censure his asperity. a man who has settled his opinions, does not love to have the tranquillity of his conviction disturbed; and at seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest. mention was made of the earse translation of the new testament, which has been lately published, and of which the learned mr. macqueen of sky spoke with commendation; but mr. maclean said he did not use it, because he could make the text more intelligible to his auditors by an extemporary version. from this i inferred, that the language of the translation was not the language of the isle of col. he has no publick edifice for the exercise of his ministry; and can officiate to no greater number, than a room can contain; and the room of a hut is not very large. this is all the opportunity of worship that is now granted to the inhabitants of the island, some of whom must travel thither perhaps ten miles. two chapels were erected by their ancestors, of which i saw the skeletons, which now stand faithful witnesses of the triumph of the reformation. the want of churches is not the only impediment to piety: there is likewise a want of ministers. a parish often contains more islands than one; and each island can have the minister only in its own turn. at raasa they had, i think, a right to service only every third sunday. all the provision made by the present ecclesiastical constitution, for the inhabitants of about a hundred square miles, is a prayer and sermon in a little room, once in three weeks: and even this parsimonious distribution is at the mercy of the weather; and in those islands where the minister does not reside, it is impossible to tell how many weeks or months may pass without any publick exercise of religion. grissipol in col after a short conversation with mr. maclean, we went on to grissipol, a house and farm tenanted by mr. macsweyn, where i saw more of the ancient life of a highlander, than i had yet found. mrs. macsweyn could speak no english, and had never seen any other places than the islands of sky, mull, and col: but she was hospitable and good-humoured, and spread her table with sufficient liberality. we found tea here, as in every other place, but our spoons were of horn. the house of grissipol stands by a brook very clear and quick; which is, i suppose, one of the most copious streams in the island. this place was the scene of an action, much celebrated in the traditional history of col, but which probably no two relaters will tell alike. some time, in the obscure ages, macneil of barra married the lady maclean, who had the isle of col for her jointure. whether macneil detained col, when the widow was dead, or whether she lived so long as to make her heirs impatient, is perhaps not now known. the younger son, called john gerves, or john the giant, a man of great strength who was then in ireland, either for safety, or for education, dreamed of recovering his inheritance; and getting some adventurers together, which, in those unsettled times, was not hard to do, invaded col. he was driven away, but was not discouraged, and collecting new followers, in three years came again with fifty men. in his way he stopped at artorinish in morvern, where his uncle was prisoner to macleod, and was then with his enemies in a tent. maclean took with him only one servant, whom he ordered to stay at the outside; and where he should see the tent pressed outwards, to strike with his dirk, it being the intention of maclean, as any man provoked him, to lay hands upon him, and push him back. he entered the tent alone, with his lochabar-axe in his hand, and struck such terror into the whole assembly, that they dismissed his uncle. when he landed at col, he saw the sentinel, who kept watch towards the sea, running off to grissipol, to give macneil, who was there with a hundred and twenty men, an account of the invasion. he told macgill, one of his followers, that if he intercepted that dangerous intelligence, by catching the courier, he would give him certain lands in mull. upon this promise, macgill pursued the messenger, and either killed, or stopped him; and his posterity, till very lately, held the lands in mull. the alarm being thus prevented, he came unexpectedly upon macneil. chiefs were in those days never wholly unprovided for an enemy. a fight ensued, in which one of their followers is said to have given an extraordinary proof of activity, by bounding backwards over the brook of grissipol. macneil being killed, and many of his clan destroyed, maclean took possession of the island, which the macneils attempted to conquer by another invasion, but were defeated and repulsed. maclean, in his turn, invaded the estate of the macneils, took the castle of brecacig, and conquered the isle of barra, which he held for seven years, and then restored it to the heirs. castle of col from grissipol, mr. maclean conducted us to his father's seat; a neat new house, erected near the old castle, i think, by the last proprietor. here we were allowed to take our station, and lived very commodiously, while we waited for moderate weather and a fair wind, which we did not so soon obtain, but we had time to get some information of the present state of col, partly by inquiry, and partly by occasional excursions. col is computed to be thirteen miles in length, and three in breadth. both the ends are the property of the duke of argyle, but the middle belongs to maclean, who is called col, as the only laird. col is not properly rocky; it is rather one continued rock, of a surface much diversified with protuberances, and covered with a thin layer of earth, which is often broken, and discovers the stone. such a soil is not for plants that strike deep roots; and perhaps in the whole island nothing has ever yet grown to the height of a table. the uncultivated parts are clothed with heath, among which industry has interspersed spots of grass and corn; but no attempt has yet been made to raise a tree. young col, who has a very laudable desire of improving his patrimony, purposes some time to plant an orchard; which, if it be sheltered by a wall, may perhaps succeed. he has introduced the culture of turnips, of which he has a field, where the whole work was performed by his own hand. his intention is to provide food for his cattle in the winter. this innovation was considered by mr. macsweyn as the idle project of a young head, heated with english fancies; but he has now found that turnips will really grow, and that hungry sheep and cows will really eat them. by such acquisitions as these, the hebrides may in time rise above their annual distress. wherever heath will grow, there is reason to think something better may draw nourishment; and by trying the production of other places, plants will be found suitable to every soil. col has many lochs, some of which have trouts and eels, and others have never yet been stocked; another proof of the negligence of the islanders, who might take fish in the inland waters, when they cannot go to sea. their quadrupeds are horses, cows, sheep, and goats. they have neither deer, hares, nor rabbits. they have no vermin, except rats, which have been lately brought thither by sea, as to other places; and are free from serpents, frogs, and toads. the harvest in col, and in lewis, is ripe sooner than in sky; and the winter in col is never cold, but very tempestuous. i know not that i ever heard the wind so loud in any other place; and mr. boswell observed, that its noise was all its own, for there were no trees to increase it. noise is not the worst effect of the tempests; for they have thrown the sand from the shore over a considerable part of the land; and it is said still to encroach and destroy more and more pasture; but i am not of opinion, that by any surveys or landmarks, its limits have been ever fixed, or its progression ascertained. if one man has confidence enough to say, that it advances, nobody can bring any proof to support him in denying it. the reason why it is not spread to a greater extent, seems to be, that the wind and rain come almost together, and that it is made close and heavy by the wet before the storms can put it in motion. so thick is the bed, and so small the particles, that if a traveller should be caught by a sudden gust in dry weather, he would find it very difficult to escape with life. for natural curiosities, i was shown only two great masses of stone, which lie loose upon the ground; one on the top of a hill, and the other at a small distance from the bottom. they certainly were never put into their present places by human strength or skill; and though an earthquake might have broken off the lower stone, and rolled it into the valley, no account can be given of the other, which lies on the hill, unless, which i forgot to examine, there be still near it some higher rock, from which it might be torn. all nations have a tradition, that their earliest ancestors were giants, and these stones are said to have been thrown up and down by a giant and his mistress. there are so many more important things, of which human knowledge can give no account, that it may be forgiven us, if we speculate no longer on two stones in col. this island is very populous. about nine-and-twenty years ago, the fencible men of col were reckoned one hundred and forty, which is the sixth of eight hundred and forty; and probably some contrived to be left out of the list. the minister told us, that a few years ago the inhabitants were eight hundred, between the ages of seven and of seventy. round numbers are seldom exact. but in this case the authority is good, and the errour likely to be little. if to the eight hundred be added what the laws of computation require, they will be increased to at least a thousand; and if the dimensions of the country have been accurately related, every mile maintains more than twenty-five. this proportion of habitation is greater than the appearance of the country seems to admit; for wherever the eye wanders, it sees much waste and little cultivation. i am more inclined to extend the land, of which no measure has ever been taken, than to diminish the people, who have been really numbered. let it be supposed, that a computed mile contains a mile and a half, as was commonly found true in the mensuration of the english roads, and we shall then allot nearly twelve to a mile, which agrees much better with ocular observation. here, as in sky, and other islands, are the laird, the tacksmen, and the under tenants. mr. maclean, the laird, has very extensive possessions, being proprietor, not only of far the greater part of col, but of the extensive island of rum, and a very considerable territory in mull. rum is one of the larger islands, almost square, and therefore of great capacity in proportion to its sides. by the usual method of estimating computed extent, it may contain more than a hundred and twenty square miles. it originally belonged to clanronald, and was purchased by col; who, in some dispute about the bargain, made clanronald prisoner, and kept him nine months in confinement. its owner represents it as mountainous, rugged, and barren. in the hills there are red deer. the horses are very small, but of a breed eminent for beauty. col, not long ago, bought one of them from a tenant; who told him, that as he was of a shape uncommonly elegant, he could not sell him but at a high price; and that whoever had him should pay a guinea and a half. there are said to be in barra a race of horses yet smaller, of which the highest is not above thirty-six inches. the rent of rum is not great. mr. maclean declared, that he should be very rich, if he could set his land at two-pence halfpenny an acre. the inhabitants are fifty-eight families, who continued papists for some time after the laird became a protestant. their adherence to their old religion was strengthened by the countenance of the laird's sister, a zealous romanist, till one sunday, as they were going to mass under the conduct of their patroness, maclean met them on the way, gave one of them a blow on the head with a yellow stick, i suppose a cane, for which the earse had no name, and drove them to the kirk, from which they have never since departed. since the use of this method of conversion, the inhabitants of egg and canna, who continue papists, call the protestantism of rum, the religion of the yellow stick. the only popish islands are egg and canna. egg is the principal island of a parish, in which, though he has no congregation, the protestant minister resides. i have heard of nothing curious in it, but the cave in which a former generation of the islanders were smothered by macleod. if we had travelled with more leisure, it had not been fit to have neglected the popish islands. popery is favourable to ceremony; and among ignorant nations, ceremony is the only preservative of tradition. since protestantism was extended to the savage parts of scotland, it has perhaps been one of the chief labours of the ministers to abolish stated observances, because they continued the remembrance of the former religion. we therefore who came to hear old traditions, and see antiquated manners, should probably have found them amongst the papists. canna, the other popish island, belongs to clanronald. it is said not to comprise more than twelve miles of land, and yet maintains as many inhabitants as rum. we were at col under the protection of the young laird, without any of the distresses, which mr. pennant, in a fit of simple credulity, seems to think almost worthy of an elegy by ossian. wherever we roved, we were pleased to see the reverence with which his subjects regarded him. he did not endeavour to dazzle them by any magnificence of dress: his only distinction was a feather in his bonnet; but as soon as he appeared, they forsook their work and clustered about him: he took them by the hand, and they seemed mutually delighted. he has the proper disposition of a chieftain, and seems desirous to continue the customs of his house. the bagpiper played regularly, when dinner was served, whose person and dress made a good appearance; and he brought no disgrace upon the family of rankin, which has long supplied the lairds of col with hereditary musick. the tacksmen of col seem to live with less dignity and convenience than those of sky; where they had good houses, and tables not only plentiful, but delicate. in col only two houses pay the window tax; for only two have six windows, which, i suppose, are the laird's and mr. macsweyn's. the rents have, till within seven years, been paid in kind, but the tenants finding that cattle and corn varied in their price, desired for the future to give their landlord money; which, not having yet arrived at the philosophy of commerce, they consider as being every year of the same value. we were told of a particular mode of under-tenure. the tacksman admits some of his inferior neighbours to the cultivation of his grounds, on condition that performing all the work, and giving a third part of the seed, they shall keep a certain number of cows, sheep, and goats, and reap a third part of the harvest. thus by less than the tillage of two acres they pay the rent of one. there are tenants below the rank of tacksmen, that have got smaller tenants under them; for in every place, where money is not the general equivalent, there must be some whose labour is immediately paid by daily food. a country that has no money, is by no means convenient for beggars, both because such countries are commonly poor, and because charity requires some trouble and some thought. a penny is easily given upon the first impulse of compassion, or impatience of importunity; but few will deliberately search their cupboards or their granaries to find out something to give. a penny is likewise easily spent, but victuals, if they are unprepared, require houseroom, and fire, and utensils, which the beggar knows not where to find. yet beggars there sometimes are, who wander from island to island. we had, in our passage to mull, the company of a woman and her child, who had exhausted the charity of col. the arrival of a beggar on an island is accounted a sinistrous event. every body considers that he shall have the less for what he gives away. their alms, i believe, is generally oatmeal. near to col is another island called tireye, eminent for its fertility. though it has but half the extent of rum, it is so well peopled, that there have appeared, not long ago, nine hundred and fourteen at a funeral. the plenty of this island enticed beggars to it, who seemed so burdensome to the inhabitants, that a formal compact was drawn up, by which they obliged themselves to grant no more relief to casual wanderers, because they had among them an indigent woman of high birth, whom they considered as entitled to all that they could spare. i have read the stipulation, which was indited with juridical formality, but was never made valid by regular subscription. if the inhabitants of col have nothing to give, it is not that they are oppressed by their landlord: their leases seem to be very profitable. one farmer, who pays only seven pounds a year, has maintained seven daughters and three sons, of whom the eldest is educated at aberdeen for the ministry; and now, at every vacation, opens a school in col. life is here, in some respects, improved beyond the condition of some other islands. in sky what is wanted can only be bought, as the arrival of some wandering pedlar may afford an opportunity; but in col there is a standing shop, and in mull there are two. a shop in the islands, as in other places of little frequentation, is a repository of every thing requisite for common use. mr. boswell's journal was filled, and he bought some paper in col. to a man that ranges the streets of london, where he is tempted to contrive wants, for the pleasure of supplying them, a shop affords no image worthy of attention; but in an island, it turns the balance of existence between good and evil. to live in perpetual want of little things, is a state not indeed of torture, but of constant vexation. i have in sky had some difficulty to find ink for a letter; and if a woman breaks her needle, the work is at a stop. as it is, the islanders are obliged to content themselves with succedaneous means for many common purposes. i have seen the chief man of a very wide district riding with a halter for a bridle, and governing his hobby with a wooden curb. the people of col, however, do not want dexterity to supply some of their necessities. several arts which make trades, and demand apprenticeships in great cities, are here the practices of daily economy. in every house candles are made, both moulded and dipped. their wicks are small shreds of linen cloth. they all know how to extract from the cuddy, oil for their lamps. they all tan skins, and make brogues. as we travelled through sky, we saw many cottages, but they very frequently stood single on the naked ground. in col, where the hills opened a place convenient for habitation, we found a petty village, of which every hut had a little garden adjoining; thus they made an appearance of social commerce and mutual offices, and of some attention to convenience and future supply. there is not in the western islands any collection of buildings that can make pretensions to be called a town, except in the isle of lewis, which i have not seen. if lewis is distinguished by a town, col has also something peculiar. the young laird has attempted what no islander perhaps ever thought on. he has begun a road capable of a wheel-carriage. he has carried it about a mile, and will continue it by annual elongation from his house to the harbour. of taxes here is no reason for complaining; they are paid by a very easy composition. the malt-tax for col is twenty shillings. whisky is very plentiful: there are several stills in the island, and more is made than the inhabitants consume. the great business of insular policy is now to keep the people in their own country. as the world has been let in upon them, they have heard of happier climates, and less arbitrary government; and if they are disgusted, have emissaries among them ready to offer them land and houses, as a reward for deserting their chief and clan. many have departed both from the main of scotland, and from the islands; and all that go may be considered as subjects lost to the british crown; for a nation scattered in the boundless regions of america resembles rays diverging from a focus. all the rays remain, but the heat is gone. their power consisted in their concentration: when they are dispersed, they have no effect. it may be thought that they are happier by the change; but they are not happy as a nation, for they are a nation no longer. as they contribute not to the prosperity of any community, they must want that security, that dignity, that happiness, whatever it be, which a prosperous community throws back upon individuals. the inhabitants of col have not yet learned to be weary of their heath and rocks, but attend their agriculture and their dairies, without listening to american seducements. there are some however who think that this emigration has raised terrour disproportionate to its real evil; and that it is only a new mode of doing what was always done. the highlands, they say, never maintained their natural inhabitants; but the people, when they found themselves too numerous, instead of extending cultivation, provided for themselves by a more compendious method, and sought better fortune in other countries. they did not indeed go away in collective bodies, but withdrew invisibly, a few at a time; but the whole number of fugitives was not less, and the difference between other times and this, is only the same as between evaporation and effusion. this is plausible, but i am afraid it is not true. those who went before, if they were not sensibly missed, as the argument supposes, must have gone either in less number, or in a manner less detrimental, than at present; because formerly there was no complaint. those who then left the country were generally the idle dependants on overburdened families, or men who had no property; and therefore carried away only themselves. in the present eagerness of emigration, families, and almost communities, go away together. those who were considered as prosperous and wealthy sell their stock and carry away the money. once none went away but the useless and poor; in some parts there is now reason to fear, that none will stay but those who are too poor to remove themselves, and too useless to be removed at the cost of others. of antiquity there is not more knowledge in col than in other places; but every where something may be gleaned. how ladies were portioned, when there was no money, it would be difficult for an englishman to guess. in , maclean of dronart in mull married his sister fingala to maclean of coll, with a hundred and eighty kine; and stipulated, that if she became a widow, her jointure should be three hundred and sixty. i suppose some proportionate tract of land was appropriated to their pasturage. the disposition to pompous and expensive funerals, which has at one time or other prevailed in most parts of the civilized world, is not yet suppressed in the islands, though some of the ancient solemnities are worn away, and singers are no longer hired to attend the procession. nineteen years ago, at the burial of the laird of col, were killed thirty cows, and about fifty sheep. the number of the cows is positively told, and we must suppose other victuals in like proportion. mr. maclean informed us of an odd game, of which he did not tell the original, but which may perhaps be used in other places, where the reason of it is not yet forgot. at new-year's eve, in the hall or castle of the laird, where, at festal seasons, there may be supposed a very numerous company, one man dresses himself in a cow's hide, upon which other men beat with sticks. he runs with all this noise round the house, which all the company quits in a counterfeited fright: the door is then shut. at new-year's eve there is no great pleasure to be had out of doors in the hebrides. they are sure soon to recover from their terrour enough to solicit for re-admission; which, for the honour of poetry, is not to be obtained but by repeating a verse, with which those that are knowing and provident take care to be furnished. very near the house of maclean stands the castle of col, which was the mansion of the laird, till the house was built. it is built upon a rock, as mr. boswell remarked, that it might not be mined. it is very strong, and having been not long uninhabited, is yet in repair. on the wall was, not long ago, a stone with an inscription, importing, that 'if any man of the clan of maclonich shall appear before this castle, though he come at midnight, with a man's head in his hand, he shall there find safety and protection against all but the king.' this is an old highland treaty made upon a very memorable occasion. maclean, the son of john gerves, who recovered col, and conquered barra, had obtained, it is said, from james the second, a grant of the lands of lochiel, forfeited, i suppose, by some offence against the state. forfeited estates were not in those days quietly resigned; maclean, therefore, went with an armed force to seize his new possessions, and, i know not for what reason, took his wife with him. the camerons rose in defence of their chief, and a battle was fought at the head of loch ness, near the place where fort augustus now stands, in which lochiel obtained the victory, and maclean, with his followers, was defeated and destroyed. the lady fell into the hands of the conquerours, and being found pregnant was placed in the custody of maclonich, one of a tribe or family branched from cameron, with orders, if she brought a boy, to destroy him, if a girl, to spare her. maclonich's wife, who was with child likewise, had a girl about the same time at which lady maclean brought a boy, and maclonich with more generosity to his captive, than fidelity to his trust, contrived that the children should be changed. maclean being thus preserved from death, in time recovered his original patrimony; and in gratitude to his friend, made his castle a place of refuge to any of the clan that should think himself in danger; and, as a proof of reciprocal confidence, maclean took upon himself and his posterity the care of educating the heir of maclonich. this story, like all other traditions of the highlands, is variously related, but though some circumstances are uncertain, the principal fact is true. maclean undoubtedly owed his preservation to maclonich; for the treaty between the two families has been strictly observed: it did not sink into disuse and oblivion, but continued in its full force while the chieftains retained their power. i have read a demand of protection, made not more than thirty-seven years ago, for one of the maclonichs, named ewen cameron, who had been accessory to the death of macmartin, and had been banished by lochiel, his lord, for a certain term; at the expiration of which he returned married from france, but the macmartins, not satisfied with the punishment, when he attempted to settle, still threatened him with vengeance. he therefore asked, and obtained shelter in the isle of col. the power of protection subsists no longer, but what the law permits is yet continued, and maclean of col now educates the heir of maclonich. there still remains in the islands, though it is passing fast away, the custom of fosterage. a laird, a man of wealth and eminence, sends his child, either male or female, to a tacksman, or tenant, to be fostered. it is not always his own tenant, but some distant friend that obtains this honour; for an honour such a trust is very reasonably thought. the terms of fosterage seem to vary in different islands. in mull, the father sends with his child a certain number of cows, to which the same number is added by the fosterer. the father appropriates a proportionable extent of ground, without rent, for their pasturage. if every cow brings a calf, half belongs to the fosterer, and half to the child; but if there be only one calf between two cows, it is the child's, and when the child returns to the parent, it is accompanied by all the cows given, both by the father and by the fosterer, with half of the increase of the stock by propagation. these beasts are considered as a portion, and called macalive cattle, of which the father has the produce, but is supposed not to have the full property, but to owe the same number to the child, as a portion to the daughter, or a stock for the son. children continue with the fosterer perhaps six years, and cannot, where this is the practice, be considered as burdensome. the fosterer, if he gives four cows, receives likewise four, and has, while the child continues with him, grass for eight without rent, with half the calves, and all the milk, for which he pays only four cows when he dismisses his dalt, for that is the name for a foster child. fosterage is, i believe, sometimes performed upon more liberal terms. our friend, the young laird of col, was fostered by macsweyn of grissipol. macsweyn then lived a tenant to sir james macdonald in the isle of sky; and therefore col, whether he sent him cattle or not, could grant him no land. the dalt, however, at his return, brought back a considerable number of macalive cattle, and of the friendship so formed there have been good effects. when macdonald raised his rents, macsweyn was, like other tenants, discontented, and, resigning his farm, removed from sky to col, and was established at grissipol. these observations we made by favour of the contrary wind that drove us to col, an island not often visited; for there is not much to amuse curiosity, or to attract avarice. the ground has been hitherto, i believe, used chiefly for pasturage. in a district, such as the eye can command, there is a general herdsman, who knows all the cattle of the neighbourhood, and whose station is upon a hill, from which he surveys the lower grounds; and if one man's cattle invade another's grass, drives them back to their own borders. but other means of profit begin to be found; kelp is gathered and burnt, and sloops are loaded with the concreted ashes. cultivation is likely to be improved by the skill and encouragement of the present heir, and the inhabitants of those obscure vallies will partake of the general progress of life. the rents of the parts which belong to the duke of argyle, have been raised from fifty-five to one hundred and five pounds, whether from the land or the sea i cannot tell. the bounties of the sea have lately been so great, that a farm in southuist has risen in ten years from a rent of thirty pounds to one hundred and eighty. he who lives in col, and finds himself condemned to solitary meals, and incommunicable reflection, will find the usefulness of that middle order of tacksmen, which some who applaud their own wisdom are wishing to destroy. without intelligence man is not social, he is only gregarious; and little intelligence will there be, where all are constrained to daily labour, and every mind must wait upon the hand. after having listened for some days to the tempest, and wandered about the island till our curiosity was satisfied, we began to think about our departure. to leave col in october was not very easy. we however found a sloop which lay on the coast to carry kelp; and for a price which we thought levied upon our necessities, the master agreed to carry us to mull, whence we might readily pass back to scotland. mull as we were to catch the first favourable breath, we spent the night not very elegantly nor pleasantly in the vessel, and were landed next day at tobor morar, a port in mull, which appears to an unexperienced eye formed for the security of ships; for its mouth is closed by a small island, which admits them through narrow channels into a bason sufficiently capacious. they are indeed safe from the sea, but there is a hollow between the mountains, through which the wind issues from the land with very mischievous violence. there was no danger while we were there, and we found several other vessels at anchor; so that the port had a very commercial appearance. the young laird of col, who had determined not to let us lose his company, while there was any difficulty remaining, came over with us. his influence soon appeared; for he procured us horses, and conducted us to the house of doctor maclean, where we found very kind entertainment, and very pleasing conversation. miss maclean, who was born, and had been bred at glasgow, having removed with her father to mull, added to other qualifications, a great knowledge of the earse language, which she had not learned in her childhood, but gained by study, and was the only interpreter of earse poetry that i could ever find. the isle of mull is perhaps in extent the third of the hebrides. it is not broken by waters, nor shot into promontories, but is a solid and compact mass, of breadth nearly equal to its length. of the dimensions of the larger islands, there is no knowledge approaching to exactness. i am willing to estimate it as containing about three hundred square miles. mull had suffered like sky by the black winter of seventy-one, in which, contrary to all experience, a continued frost detained the snow eight weeks upon the ground. against a calamity never known, no provision had been made, and the people could only pine in helpless misery. one tenant was mentioned, whose cattle perished to the value of three hundred pounds; a loss which probably more than the life of man is necessary to repair. in countries like these, the descriptions of famine become intelligible. where by vigorous and artful cultivation of a soil naturally fertile, there is commonly a superfluous growth both of grain and grass; where the fields are crowded with cattle; and where every hand is able to attract wealth from a distance, by making something that promotes ease, or gratifies vanity, a dear year produces only a comparative want, which is rather seen than felt, and which terminates commonly in no worse effect, than that of condemning the lower orders of the community to sacrifice a little luxury to convenience, or at most a little convenience to necessity. but where the climate is unkind, and the ground penurious, so that the most fruitful years will produce only enough to maintain themselves; where life unimproved, and unadorned, fades into something little more than naked existence, and every one is busy for himself, without any arts by which the pleasure of others may be increased; if to the daily burden of distress any additional weight be added, nothing remains but to despair and die. in mull the disappointment of a harvest, or a murrain among the cattle, cuts off the regular provision; and they who have no manufactures can purchase no part of the superfluities of other countries. the consequence of a bad season is here not scarcity, but emptiness; and they whose plenty, was barely a supply of natural and present need, when that slender stock fails, must perish with hunger. all travel has its advantages. if the passenger visits better countries, he may learn to improve his own, and if fortune carries him to worse, he may learn to enjoy it. mr. boswell's curiosity strongly impelled him to survey iona, or icolmkil, which was to the early ages the great school of theology, and is supposed to have been the place of sepulture for the ancient kings. i, though less eager, did not oppose him. that we might perform this expedition, it was necessary to traverse a great part of mull. we passed a day at dr. maclean's, and could have been well contented to stay longer. but col provided us horses, and we pursued our journey. this was a day of inconvenience, for the country is very rough, and my horse was but little. we travelled many hours through a tract, black and barren, in which, however, there were the reliques of humanity; for we found a ruined chapel in our way. it is natural, in traversing this gloom of desolation, to inquire, whether something may not be done to give nature a more cheerful face, and whether those hills and moors that afford heath cannot with a little care and labour bear something better? the first thought that occurs is to cover them with trees, for that in many of these naked regions trees will grow, is evident, because stumps and roots are yet remaining; and the speculatist hastily proceeds to censure that negligence and laziness that has omitted for so long a time so easy an improvement. to drop seeds into the ground, and attend their growth, requires little labour and no skill. he who remembers that all the woods, by which the wants of man have been supplied from the deluge till now, were self-sown, will not easily be persuaded to think all the art and preparation necessary, which the georgick writers prescribe to planters. trees certainly have covered the earth with very little culture. they wave their tops among the rocks of norway, and might thrive as well in the highlands and hebrides. but there is a frightful interval between the seed and timber. he that calculates the growth of trees, has the unwelcome remembrance of the shortness of life driven hard upon him. he knows that he is doing what will never benefit himself; and when he rejoices to see the stem rise, is disposed to repine that another shall cut it down. plantation is naturally the employment of a mind unburdened with care, and vacant to futurity, saturated with present good, and at leisure to derive gratification from the prospect of posterity. he that pines with hunger, is in little care how others shall be fed. the poor man is seldom studious to make his grandson rich. it may be soon discovered, why in a place, which hardly supplies the cravings of necessity, there has been little attention to the delights of fancy, and why distant convenience is unregarded, where the thoughts are turned with incessant solicitude upon every possibility of immediate advantage. neither is it quite so easy to raise large woods, as may be conceived. trees intended to produce timber must be sown where they are to grow; and ground sown with trees must be kept useless for a long time, inclosed at an expence from which many will be discouraged by the remoteness of the profit, and watched with that attention, which, in places where it is most needed, will neither be given nor bought. that it cannot be plowed is evident; and if cattle be suffered to graze upon it, they will devour the plants as fast as they rise. even in coarser countries, where herds and flocks are not fed, not only the deer and the wild goats will browse upon them, but the hare and rabbit will nibble them. it is therefore reasonable to believe, what i do not remember any naturalist to have remarked, that there was a time when the world was very thinly inhabited by beasts, as well as men, and that the woods had leisure to rise high before animals had bred numbers sufficient to intercept them. sir james macdonald, in part of the wastes of his territory, set or sowed trees, to the number, as i have been told, of several millions, expecting, doubtless, that they would grow up into future navies and cities; but for want of inclosure, and of that care which is always necessary, and will hardly ever be taken, all his cost and labour have been lost, and the ground is likely to continue an useless heath. having not any experience of a journey in mull, we had no doubt of reaching the sea by day-light, and therefore had not left dr. maclean's very early. we travelled diligently enough, but found the country, for road there was none, very difficult to pass. we were always struggling with some obstruction or other, and our vexation was not balanced by any gratification of the eye or mind. we were now long enough acquainted with hills and heath to have lost the emotion that they once raised, whether pleasing or painful, and had our mind employed only on our own fatigue. we were however sure, under col's protection, of escaping all real evils. there was no house in mull to which he could not introduce us. he had intended to lodge us, for that night, with a gentleman that lived upon the coast, but discovered on the way, that he then lay in bed without hope of life. we resolved not to embarrass a family, in a time of so much sorrow, if any other expedient could he found; and as the island of ulva was over- against us, it was determined that we should pass the strait and have recourse to the laird, who, like the other gentlemen of the islands, was known to col. we expected to find a ferry-boat, but when at last we came to the water, the boat was gone. we were now again at a stop. it was the sixteenth of october, a time when it is not convenient to sleep in the hebrides without a cover, and there was no house within our reach, but that which we had already declined. ulva while we stood deliberating, we were happily espied from an irish ship, that lay at anchor in the strait. the master saw that we wanted a passage, and with great civility sent us his boat, which quickly conveyed us to ulva, where we were very liberally entertained by mr. macquarry. to ulva we came in the dark, and left it before noon the next day. a very exact description therefore will not be expected. we were told, that it is an island of no great extent, rough and barren, inhabited by the macquarrys; a clan not powerful nor numerous, but of antiquity, which most other families are content to reverence. the name is supposed to be a depravation of some other; for the earse language does not afford it any etymology. macquarry is proprietor both of ulva and some adjacent islands, among which is staffa, so lately raised to renown by mr. banks. when the islanders were reproached with their ignorance, or insensibility of the wonders of staffa, they had not much to reply. they had indeed considered it little, because they had always seen it; and none but philosophers, nor they always, are struck with wonder, otherwise than by novelty. how would it surprise an unenlightened ploughman, to hear a company of sober men, inquiring by what power the hand tosses a stone, or why the stone, when it is tossed, falls to the ground! of the ancestors of macquarry, who thus lies hid in his unfrequented island, i have found memorials in all places where they could be expected. inquiring after the reliques of former manners, i found that in ulva, and, i think, no where else, is continued the payment of the mercheta mulierum; a fine in old times due to the laird at the marriage of a virgin. the original of this claim, as of our tenure of borough english, is variously delivered. it is pleasant to find ancient customs in old families. this payment, like others, was, for want of money, made anciently in the produce of the land. macquarry was used to demand a sheep, for which he now takes a crown, by that inattention to the uncertain proportion between the value and the denomination of money, which has brought much disorder into europe. a sheep has always the same power of supplying human wants, but a crown will bring at one time more, at another less. ulva was not neglected by the piety of ardent times: it has still to show what was once a church. inch kenneth in the morning we went again into the boat, and were landed on inch kenneth, an island about a mile long, and perhaps half a mile broad, remarkable for pleasantness and fertility. it is verdant and grassy, and fit both for pasture and tillage; but it has no trees. its only inhabitants were sir allan maclean and two young ladies, his daughters, with their servants. romance does not often exhibit a scene that strikes the imagination more than this little desert in these depths of western obscurity, occupied not by a gross herdsman, or amphibious fisherman, but by a gentleman and two ladies, of high birth, polished manners and elegant conversation, who, in a habitation raised not very far above the ground, but furnished with unexpected neatness and convenience, practised all the kindness of hospitality, and refinement of courtesy. sir allan is the chieftain of the great clan of maclean, which is said to claim the second place among the highland families, yielding only to macdonald. though by the misconduct of his ancestors, most of the extensive territory, which would have descended to him, has been alienated, he still retains much of the dignity and authority of his birth. when soldiers were lately wanting for the american war, application was made to sir allan, and he nominated a hundred men for the service, who obeyed the summons, and bore arms under his command. he had then, for some time, resided with the young ladies in inch kenneth, where he lives not only with plenty, but with elegance, having conveyed to his cottage a collection of books, and what else is necessary to make his hours pleasant. when we landed, we were met by sir allan and the ladies, accompanied by miss macquarry, who had passed some time with them, and now returned to ulva with her father. we all walked together to the mansion, where we found one cottage for sir allan, and i think two more for the domesticks and the offices. we entered, and wanted little that palaces afford. our room was neatly floored, and well lighted; and our dinner, which was dressed in one of the other huts, was plentiful and delicate. in the afternoon sir allan reminded us, that the day was sunday, which he never suffered to pass without some religious distinction, and invited us to partake in his acts of domestick worship; which i hope neither mr. boswell nor myself will be suspected of a disposition to refuse. the elder of the ladies read the english service. inch kenneth was once a seminary of ecclesiasticks, subordinate, i suppose, to icolmkill. sir allan had a mind to trace the foundations of the college, but neither i nor mr. boswell, who bends a keener eye on vacancy, were able to perceive them. our attention, however, was sufficiently engaged by a venerable chapel, which stands yet entire, except that the roof is gone. it is about sixty feet in length, and thirty in breadth. on one side of the altar is a bas relief of the blessed virgin, and by it lies a little bell; which, though cracked, and without a clapper, has remained there for ages, guarded only by the venerableness of the place. the ground round the chapel is covered with gravestones of chiefs and ladies; and still continues to be a place of sepulture. inch kenneth is a proper prelude to icolmkill. it was not without some mournful emotion that we contemplated the ruins of religious structures and the monuments of the dead. on the next day we took a more distinct view of the place, and went with the boat to see oysters in the bed, out of which the boatmen forced up as many as were wanted. even inch kenneth has a subordinate island, named sandiland, i suppose in contempt, where we landed, and found a rock, with a surface of perhaps four acres, of which one is naked stone, another spread with sand and shells, some of which i picked up for their glossy beauty, and two covered with a little earth and grass, on which sir allan has a few sheep. i doubt not but when there was a college at inch kenneth, there was a hermitage upon sandiland. having wandered over those extensive plains, we committed ourselves again to the winds and waters; and after a voyage of about ten minutes, in which we met with nothing very observable, were again safe upon dry ground. we told sir allan our desire of visiting icolmkill, and entreated him to give us his protection, and his company. he thought proper to hesitate a little, but the ladies hinted, that as they knew he would not finally refuse, he would do better if he preserved the grace of ready compliance. he took their advice, and promised to carry us on the morrow in his boat. we passed the remaining part of the day in such amusements as were in our power. sir allan related the american campaign, and at evening one of the ladies played on her harpsichord, while col and mr. boswell danced a scottish reel with the other. we could have been easily persuaded to a longer stay upon inch kenneth, but life will not be all passed in delight. the session at edinburgh was approaching, from which mr. boswell could not be absent. in the morning our boat was ready: it was high and strong. sir allan victualled it for the day, and provided able rowers. we now parted from the young laird of col, who had treated us with so much kindness, and concluded his favours by consigning us to sir allan. here we had the last embrace of this amiable man, who, while these pages were preparing to attest his virtues, perished in the passage between ulva and inch kenneth. sir allan, to whom the whole region was well known, told us of a very remarkable cave, to which he would show us the way. we had been disappointed already by one cave, and were not much elevated by the expectation of another. it was yet better to see it, and we stopped at some rocks on the coast of mull. the mouth is fortified by vast fragments of stone, over which we made our way, neither very nimbly, nor very securely. the place, however, well repaid our trouble. the bottom, as far as the flood rushes in, was encumbered with large pebbles, but as we advanced was spread over with smooth sand. the breadth is about forty-five feet: the roof rises in an arch, almost regular, to a height which we could not measure; but i think it about thirty feet. this part of our curiosity was nearly frustrated; for though we went to see a cave, and knew that caves are dark, we forgot to carry tapers, and did not discover our omission till we were wakened by our wants. sir allan then sent one of the boatmen into the country, who soon returned with one little candle. we were thus enabled to go forward, but could not venture far. having passed inward from the sea to a great depth, we found on the right hand a narrow passage, perhaps not more than six feet wide, obstructed by great stones, over which we climbed and came into a second cave, in breadth twenty-five feet. the air in this apartment was very warm, but not oppressive, nor loaded with vapours. our light showed no tokens of a feculent or corrupted atmosphere. here was a square stone, called, as we are told, fingal's table. if we had been provided with torches, we should have proceeded in our search, though we had already gone as far as any former adventurer, except some who are reported never to have returned; and, measuring our way back, we found it more than a hundred and sixty yards, the eleventh part of a mile. our measures were not critically exact, having been made with a walking pole, such as it is convenient to carry in these rocky countries, of which i guessed the length by standing against it. in this there could be no great errour, nor do i much doubt but the highlander, whom we employed, reported the number right. more nicety however is better, and no man should travel unprovided with instruments for taking heights and distances. there is yet another cause of errour not always easily surmounted, though more dangerous to the veracity of itinerary narratives, than imperfect mensuration. an observer deeply impressed by any remarkable spectacle, does not suppose, that the traces will soon vanish from his mind, and having commonly no great convenience for writing, defers the description to a time of more leisure, and better accommodation. he who has not made the experiment, or who is not accustomed to require rigorous accuracy from himself, will scarcely believe how much a few hours take from certainty of knowledge, and distinctness of imagery; how the succession of objects will be broken, how separate parts will be confused, and how many particular features and discriminations will be compressed and conglobated into one gross and general idea. to this dilatory notation must be imputed the false relations of travellers, where there is no imaginable motive to deceive. they trusted to memory, what cannot be trusted safely but to the eye, and told by guess what a few hours before they had known with certainty. thus it was that wheeler and spon described with irreconcilable contrariety things which they surveyed together, and which both undoubtedly designed to show as they saw them. when we had satisfied our curiosity in the cave, so far as our penury of light permitted us, we clambered again to our boat, and proceeded along the coast of mull to a headland, called atun, remarkable for the columnar form of the rocks, which rise in a series of pilasters, with a degree of regularity, which sir allan thinks not less worthy of curiosity than the shore of staffa. not long after we came to another range of black rocks, which had the appearance of broken pilasters, set one behind another to a great depth. this place was chosen by sir allan for our dinner. we were easily accommodated with seats, for the stones were of all heights, and refreshed ourselves and our boatmen, who could have no other rest till we were at icolmkill. the evening was now approaching, and we were yet at a considerable distance from the end of our expedition. we could therefore stop no more to make remarks in the way, but set forward with some degree of eagerness. the day soon failed us, and the moon presented a very solemn and pleasing scene. the sky was clear, so that the eye commanded a wide circle: the sea was neither still nor turbulent: the wind neither silent nor loud. we were never far from one coast or another, on which, if the weather had become violent, we could have found shelter, and therefore contemplated at ease the region through which we glided in the tranquillity of the night, and saw now a rock and now an island grow gradually conspicuous and gradually obscure. i committed the fault which i have just been censuring, in neglecting, as we passed, to note the series of this placid navigation. we were very near an island, called nun's island, perhaps from an ancient convent. here is said to have been dug the stone that was used in the buildings of icolmkill. whether it is now inhabited we could not stay to inquire. at last we came to icolmkill, but found no convenience for landing. our boat could not be forced very near the dry ground, and our highlanders carried us over the water. we were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. to abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish, if it were possible. whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses; whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. far from me and from my friends, be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. that man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of iona! we came too late to visit monuments: some care was necessary for ourselves. whatever was in the island, sir allan could command, for the inhabitants were macleans; but having little they could not give us much. he went to the headman of the island, whom fame, but fame delights in amplifying, represents as worth no less than fifty pounds. he was perhaps proud enough of his guests, but ill prepared for our entertainment; however, he soon produced more provision than men not luxurious require. our lodging was next to be provided. we found a barn well stocked with hay, and made our beds as soft as we could. in the morning we rose and surveyed the place. the churches of the two convents are both standing, though unroofed. they were built of unhewn stone, but solid, and not inelegant. i brought away rude measures of the buildings, such as i cannot much trust myself, inaccurately taken, and obscurely noted. mr. pennant's delineations, which are doubtless exact, have made my unskilful description less necessary. the episcopal church consists of two parts, separated by the belfry, and built at different times. the original church had, like others, the altar at one end, and tower at the other: but as it grew too small, another building of equal dimension was added, and the tower then was necessarily in the middle. that these edifices are of different ages seems evident. the arch of the first church is roman, being part of a circle; that of the additional building is pointed, and therefore gothick, or saracenical; the tower is firm, and wants only to be floored and covered. of the chambers or cells belonging to the monks, there are some walls remaining, but nothing approaching to a complete apartment. the bottom of the church is so incumbered with mud and rubbish, that we could make no discoveries of curious inscriptions, and what there are have been already published. the place is said to be known where the black stones lie concealed, on which the old highland chiefs, when they made contracts and alliances, used to take the oath, which was considered as more sacred than any other obligation, and which could not be violated without the blackest infamy. in those days of violence and rapine, it was of great importance to impress upon savage minds the sanctity of an oath, by some particular and extraordinary circumstances. they would not have recourse to the black stones, upon small or common occasions, and when they had established their faith by this tremendous sanction, inconstancy and treachery were no longer feared. the chapel of the nunnery is now used by the inhabitants as a kind of general cow-house, and the bottom is consequently too miry for examination. some of the stones which covered the later abbesses have inscriptions, which might yet be read, if the chapel were cleansed. the roof of this, as of all the other buildings, is totally destroyed, not only because timber quickly decays when it is neglected, but because in an island utterly destitute of wood, it was wanted for use, and was consequently the first plunder of needy rapacity. the chancel of the nuns' chapel is covered with an arch of stone, to which time has done no injury; and a small apartment communicating with the choir, on the north side, like the chapter-house in cathedrals, roofed with stone in the same manner, is likewise entire. in one of the churches was a marble altar, which the superstition of the inhabitants has destroyed. their opinion was, that a fragment of this stone was a defence against shipwrecks, fire, and miscarriages. in one corner of the church the bason for holy water is yet unbroken. the cemetery of the nunnery was, till very lately, regarded with such reverence, that only women were buried in it. these reliques of veneration always produce some mournful pleasure. i could have forgiven a great injury more easily than the violation of this imaginary sanctity. south of the chapel stand the walls of a large room, which was probably the hall, or refectory of the nunnery. this apartment is capable of repair. of the rest of the convent there are only fragments. besides the two principal churches, there are, i think, five chapels yet standing, and three more remembered. there are also crosses, of which two bear the names of st. john and st. matthew. a large space of ground about these consecrated edifices is covered with gravestones, few of which have any inscription. he that surveys it, attended by an insular antiquary, may be told where the kings of many nations are buried, and if he loves to sooth his imagination with the thoughts that naturally rise in places where the great and the powerful lie mingled with the dust, let him listen in submissive silence; for if he asks any questions, his delight is at an end. iona has long enjoyed, without any very credible attestation, the honour of being reputed the cemetery of the scottish kings. it is not unlikely, that, when the opinion of local sanctity was prevalent, the chieftains of the isles, and perhaps some of the norwegian or irish princes were reposited in this venerable enclosure. but by whom the subterraneous vaults are peopled is now utterly unknown. the graves are very numerous, and some of them undoubtedly contain the remains of men, who did not expect to be so soon forgotten. not far from this awful ground, may be traced the garden of the monastery: the fishponds are yet discernible, and the aqueduct, which supplied them, is still in use. there remains a broken building, which is called the bishop's house, i know not by what authority. it was once the residence of some man above the common rank, for it has two stories and a chimney. we were shewn a chimney at the other end, which was only a nich, without perforation, but so much does antiquarian credulity, or patriotick vanity prevail, that it was not much more safe to trust the eye of our instructor than the memory. there is in the island one house more, and only one, that has a chimney: we entered it, and found it neither wanting repair nor inhabitants; but to the farmers, who now possess it, the chimney is of no great value; for their fire was made on the floor, in the middle of the room, and notwithstanding the dignity of their mansion, they rejoiced, like their neighbours, in the comforts of smoke. it is observed, that ecclesiastical colleges are always in the most pleasant and fruitful places. while the world allowed the monks their choice, it is surely no dishonour that they chose well. this island is remarkably fruitful. the village near the churches is said to contain seventy families, which, at five in a family, is more than a hundred inhabitants to a mile. there are perhaps other villages: yet both corn and cattle are annually exported. but the fruitfulness of iona is now its whole prosperity. the inhabitants are remarkably gross, and remarkably neglected: i know not if they are visited by any minister. the island, which was once the metropolis of learning and piety, has now no school for education, nor temple for worship, only two inhabitants that can speak english, and not one that can write or read. the people are of the clan of maclean; and though sir allan had not been in the place for many years, he was received with all the reverence due to their chieftain. one of them being sharply reprehended by him, for not sending him some rum, declared after his departure, in mr. boswell's presence, that he had no design of disappointing him, 'for,' said he, 'i would cut my bones for him; and if he had sent his dog for it, he should have had it.' when we were to depart, our boat was left by the ebb at a great distance from the water, but no sooner did we wish it afloat, than the islanders gathered round it, and, by the union of many hands, pushed it down the beach; every man who could contribute his help seemed to think himself happy in the opportunity of being, for a moment, useful to his chief. we now left those illustrious ruins, by which mr. boswell was much affected, nor would i willingly be thought to have looked upon them without some emotion. perhaps, in the revolutions of the world, iona may be sometime again the instructress of the western regions. it was no long voyage to mull, where, under sir allan's protection, we landed in the evening, and were entertained for the night by mr. maclean, a minister that lives upon the coast, whose elegance of conversation, and strength of judgment, would make him conspicuous in places of greater celebrity. next day we dined with dr. maclean, another physician, and then travelled on to the house of a very powerful laird, maclean of lochbuy; for in this country every man's name is maclean. where races are thus numerous, and thus combined, none but the chief of a clan is addressed by his name. the laird of dunvegan is called macleod, but other gentlemen of the same family are denominated by the places where they reside, as raasa, or talisker. the distinction of the meaner people is made by their christian names. in consequence of this practice, the late laird of macfarlane, an eminent genealogist, considered himself as disrespectfully treated, if the common addition was applied to him. mr. macfarlane, said he, may with equal propriety be said to many; but i, and i only, am macfarlane. our afternoon journey was through a country of such gloomy desolation, that mr. boswell thought no part of the highlands equally terrifick, yet we came without any difficulty, at evening, to lochbuy, where we found a true highland laird, rough and haughty, and tenacious of his dignity; who, hearing my name, inquired whether i was of the johnstons of glencroe, or of ardnamurchan. lochbuy has, like the other insular chieftains, quitted the castle that sheltered his ancestors, and lives near it, in a mansion not very spacious or splendid. i have seen no houses in the islands much to be envied for convenience or magnificence, yet they bare testimony to the progress of arts and civility, as they shew that rapine and surprise are no longer dreaded, and are much more commodious than the ancient fortresses. the castles of the hebrides, many of which are standing, and many ruined, were always built upon points of land, on the margin of the sea. for the choice of this situation there must have been some general reason, which the change of manners has left in obscurity. they were of no use in the days of piracy, as defences of the coast; for it was equally accessible in other places. had they been sea-marks or light-houses, they would have been of more use to the invader than the natives, who could want no such directions of their own waters: for a watch-tower, a cottage on a hill would have been better, as it would have commanded a wider view. if they be considered merely as places of retreat, the situation seems not well chosen; for the laird of an island is safest from foreign enemies in the center; on the coast he might be more suddenly surprised than in the inland parts; and the invaders, if their enterprise miscarried, might more easily retreat. some convenience, however, whatever it was, their position on the shore afforded; for uniformity of practice seldom continues long without good reason. a castle in the islands is only a single tower of three or four stories, of which the walls are sometimes eight or nine feet thick, with narrow windows, and close winding stairs of stone. the top rises in a cone, or pyramid of stone, encompassed by battlements. the intermediate floors are sometimes frames of timber, as in common houses, and sometimes arches of stone, or alternately stone and timber; so that there was very little danger from fire. in the center of every floor, from top to bottom, is the chief room, of no great extent, round which there are narrow cavities, or recesses, formed by small vacuities, or by a double wall. i know not whether there be ever more than one fire-place. they had not capacity to contain many people, or much provision; but their enemies could seldom stay to blockade them; for if they failed in the first attack, their next care was to escape. the walls were always too strong to be shaken by such desultory hostilities; the windows were too narrow to be entered, and the battlements too high to be scaled. the only danger was at the gates, over which the wall was built with a square cavity, not unlike a chimney, continued to the top. through this hollow the defendants let fall stones upon those who attempted to break the gate, and poured down water, perhaps scalding water, if the attack was made with fire. the castle of lochbuy was secured by double doors, of which the outer was an iron grate. in every castle is a well and a dungeon. the use of the well is evident. the dungeon is a deep subterraneous cavity, walled on the sides, and arched on the top, into which the descent is through a narrow door, by a ladder or a rope, so that it seems impossible to escape, when the rope or ladder is drawn up. the dungeon was, i suppose, in war, a prison for such captives as were treated with severity, and, in peace, for such delinquents as had committed crimes within the laird's jurisdiction; for the mansions of many lairds were, till the late privation of their privileges, the halls of justice to their own tenants. as these fortifications were the productions of mere necessity, they are built only for safety, with little regard to convenience, and with none to elegance or pleasure. it was sufficient for a laird of the hebrides, if he had a strong house, in which he could hide his wife and children from the next clan. that they are not large nor splendid is no wonder. it is not easy to find how they were raised, such as they are, by men who had no money, in countries where the labourers and artificers could scarcely be fed. the buildings in different parts of the island shew their degrees of wealth and power. i believe that for all the castles which i have seen beyond the tweed, the ruins yet remaining of some one of those which the english built in wales, would supply materials. these castles afford another evidence that the fictions of romantick chivalry had for their basis the real manners of the feudal times, when every lord of a seignory lived in his hold lawless and unaccountable, with all the licentiousness and insolence of uncontested superiority and unprincipled power. the traveller, whoever he might be, coming to the fortified habitation of a chieftain, would, probably, have been interrogated from the battlements, admitted with caution at the gate, introduced to a petty monarch, fierce with habitual hostility, and vigilant with ignorant suspicion; who, according to his general temper, or accidental humour, would have seated a stranger as his guest at the table, or as a spy confined him in the dungeon. lochbuy means the yellow lake, which is the name given to an inlet of the sea, upon which the castle of mr. maclean stands. the reason of the appellation we did not learn. we were now to leave the hebrides, where we had spent some weeks with sufficient amusement, and where we had amplified our thoughts with new scenes of nature, and new modes of life. more time would have given us a more distinct view, but it was necessary that mr. boswell should return before the courts of justice were opened; and it was not proper to live too long upon hospitality, however liberally imparted. of these islands it must be confessed, that they have not many allurements, but to the mere lover of naked nature. the inhabitants are thin, provisions are scarce, and desolation and penury give little pleasure. the people collectively considered are not few, though their numbers are small in proportion to the space which they occupy. mull is said to contain six thousand, and sky fifteen thousand. of the computation respecting mull, i can give no account; but when i doubted the truth of the numbers attributed to sky, one of the ministers exhibited such facts as conquered my incredulity. of the proportion, which the product of any region bears to the people, an estimate is commonly made according to the pecuniary price of the necessaries of life; a principle of judgment which is never certain, because it supposes what is far from truth, that the value of money is always the same, and so measures an unknown quantity by an uncertain standard. it is competent enough when the markets of the same country, at different times, and those times not too distant, are to be compared; but of very little use for the purpose of making one nation acquainted with the state of another. provisions, though plentiful, are sold in places of great pecuniary opulence for nominal prices, to which, however scarce, where gold and silver are yet scarcer, they can never be raised. in the western islands there is so little internal commerce, that hardly any thing has a known or settled rate. the price of things brought in, or carried out, is to be considered as that of a foreign market; and even this there is some difficulty in discovering, because their denominations of quantity are different from ours; and when there is ignorance on both sides, no appeal can be made to a common measure. this, however, is not the only impediment. the scots, with a vigilance of jealousy which never goes to sleep, always suspect that an englishman despises them for their poverty, and to convince him that they are not less rich than their neighbours, are sure to tell him a price higher than the true. when lesley, two hundred years ago, related so punctiliously, that a hundred hen eggs, new laid, were sold in the islands for a peny, he supposed that no inference could possibly follow, but that eggs were in great abundance. posterity has since grown wiser; and having learned, that nominal and real value may differ, they now tell no such stories, lest the foreigner should happen to collect, not that eggs are many, but that pence are few. money and wealth have by the use of commercial language been so long confounded, that they are commonly supposed to be the same; and this prejudice has spread so widely in scotland, that i know not whether i found man or woman, whom i interrogated concerning payments of money, that could surmount the illiberal desire of deceiving me, by representing every thing as dearer than it is. from lochbuy we rode a very few miles to the side of mull, which faces scotland, where, having taken leave of our kind protector, sir allan, we embarked in a boat, in which the seat provided for our accommodation was a heap of rough brushwood; and on the twenty-second of october reposed at a tolerable inn on the main land. on the next day we began our journey southwards. the weather was tempestuous. for half the day the ground was rough, and our horses were still small. had they required much restraint, we might have been reduced to difficulties; for i think we had amongst us but one bridle. we fed the poor animals liberally, and they performed their journey well. in the latter part of the day, we came to a firm and smooth road, made by the soldiers, on which we travelled with great security, busied with contemplating the scene about us. the night came on while we had yet a great part of the way to go, though not so dark, but that we could discern the cataracts which poured down the hills, on one side, and fell into one general channel that ran with great violence on the other. the wind was loud, the rain was heavy, and the whistling of the blast, the fall of the shower, the rush of the cataracts, and the roar of the torrent, made a nobler chorus of the rough musick of nature than it had ever been my chance to hear before. the streams, which ran cross the way from the hills to the main current, were so frequent, that after a while i began to count them; and, in ten miles, reckoned fifty-five, probably missing some, and having let some pass before they forced themselves upon my notice. at last we came to inverary, where we found an inn, not only commodious, but magnificent. the difficulties of peregrination were now at an end. mr. boswell had the honour of being known to the duke of argyle, by whom we were very kindly entertained at his splendid seat, and supplied with conveniences for surveying his spacious park and rising forests. after two days stay at inverary we proceeded southward over glencroe, a black and dreary region, now made easily passable by a military road, which rises from either end of the glen by an acclivity not dangerously steep, but sufficiently laborious. in the middle, at the top of the hill, is a seat with this inscription, 'rest, and be thankful.' stones were placed to mark the distances, which the inhabitants have taken away, resolved, they said, 'to have no new miles.' in this rainy season the hills streamed with waterfalls, which, crossing the way, formed currents on the other side, that ran in contrary directions as they fell to the north or south of the summit. being, by the favour of the duke, well mounted, i went up and down the hill with great convenience. from glencroe we passed through a pleasant country to the banks of loch lomond, and were received at the house of sir james colquhoun, who is owner of almost all the thirty islands of the loch, which we went in a boat next morning to survey. the heaviness of the rain shortened our voyage, but we landed on one island planted with yew, and stocked with deer, and on another containing perhaps not more than half an acre, remarkable for the ruins of an old castle, on which the osprey builds her annual nest. had loch lomond been in a happier climate, it would have been the boast of wealth and vanity to own one of the little spots which it incloses, and to have employed upon it all the arts of embellishment. but as it is, the islets, which court the gazer at a distance, disgust him at his approach, when he finds, instead of soft lawns; and shady thickets, nothing more than uncultivated ruggedness. where the loch discharges itself into a river, called the leven, we passed a night with mr. smollet, a relation of doctor smollet, to whose memory he has raised an obelisk on the bank near the house in which he was born. the civility and respect which we found at every place, it is ungrateful to omit, and tedious to repeat. here we were met by a post- chaise, that conveyed us to glasgow. to describe a city so much frequented as glasgow, is unnecessary. the prosperity of its commerce appears by the greatness of many private houses, and a general appearance of wealth. it is the only episcopal city whose cathedral was left standing in the rage of reformation. it is now divided into many separate places of worship, which, taken all together, compose a great pile, that had been some centuries in building, but was never finished; for the change of religion intercepted its progress, before the cross isle was added, which seems essential to a gothick cathedral. the college has not had a sufficient share of the increasing magnificence of the place. the session was begun; for it commences on the tenth of october and continues to the tenth of june, but the students appeared not numerous, being, i suppose, not yet returned from their several homes. the division of the academical year into one session, and one recess, seems to me better accommodated to the present state of life, than that variegation of time by terms and vacations derived from distant centuries, in which it was probably convenient, and still continued in the english universities. so many solid months as the scotch scheme of education joins together, allow and encourage a plan for each part of the year; but with us, he that has settled himself to study in the college is soon tempted into the country, and he that has adjusted his life in the country, is summoned back to his college. yet when i have allowed to the universities of scotland a more rational distribution of time, i have given them, so far as my inquiries have informed me, all that they can claim. the students, for the most part, go thither boys, and depart before they are men; they carry with them little fundamental knowledge, and therefore the superstructure cannot be lofty. the grammar schools are not generally well supplied; for the character of a school-master being there less honourable than in england, is seldom accepted by men who are capable to adorn it, and where the school has been deficient, the college can effect little. men bred in the universities of scotland cannot be expected to be often decorated with the splendours of ornamental erudition, but they obtain a mediocrity of knowledge, between learning and ignorance, not inadequate to the purposes of common life, which is, i believe, very widely diffused among them, and which countenanced in general by a national combination so invidious, that their friends cannot defend it, and actuated in particulars by a spirit of enterprise, so vigorous, that their enemies are constrained to praise it, enables them to find, or to make their way to employment, riches, and distinction. from glasgow we directed our course to auchinleck, an estate devolved, through a long series of ancestors, to mr. boswell's father, the present possessor. in our way we found several places remarkable enough in themselves, but already described by those who viewed them at more leisure, or with much more skill; and stopped two days at mr. campbell's, a gentleman married to mr. boswell's sister. auchinleck, which signifies a stony field, seems not now to have any particular claim to its denomination. it is a district generally level, and sufficiently fertile, but like all the western side of scotland, incommoded by very frequent rain. it was, with the rest of the country, generally naked, till the present possessor finding, by the growth of some stately trees near his old castle, that the ground was favourable enough to timber, adorned it very diligently with annual plantations. lord auchinleck, who is one of the judges of scotland, and therefore not wholly at leisure for domestick business or pleasure, has yet found time to make improvements in his patrimony. he has built a house of hewn stone, very stately, and durable, and has advanced the value of his lands with great tenderness to his tenants. i was, however, less delighted with the elegance of the modern mansion, than with the sullen dignity of the old castle. i clambered with mr. boswell among the ruins, which afford striking images of ancient life. it is, like other castles, built upon a point of rock, and was, i believe, anciently surrounded with a moat. there is another rock near it, to which the drawbridge, when it was let down, is said to have reached. here, in the ages of tumult and rapine, the laird was surprised and killed by the neighbouring chief, who perhaps might have extinguished the family, had he not in a few days been seized and hanged, together with his sons, by douglas, who came with his forces to the relief of auchinleck. at no great distance from the house runs a pleasing brook, by a red rock, out of which has been hewn a very agreeable and commodious summer-house, at less expence, as lord auchinleck told me, than would have been required to build a room of the same dimensions. the rock seems to have no more dampness than any other wall. such opportunities of variety it is judicious not to neglect. we now returned to edinburgh, where i passed some days with men of learning, whose names want no advancement from my commemoration, or with women of elegance, which perhaps disclaims a pedant's praise. the conversation of the scots grows every day less unpleasing to the english; their peculiarities wear fast away; their dialect is likely to become in half a century provincial and rustick, even to themselves. the great, the learned, the ambitious, and the vain, all cultivate the english phrase, and the english pronunciation, and in splendid companies scotch is not much heard, except now and then from an old lady. there is one subject of philosophical curiosity to be found in edinburgh, which no other city has to shew; a college of the deaf and dumb, who are taught to speak, to read, to write, and to practice arithmetick, by a gentleman, whose name is braidwood. the number which attends him is, i think, about twelve, which he brings together into a little school, and instructs according to their several degrees of proficiency. i do not mean to mention the instruction of the deaf as new. having been first practised upon the son of a constable of spain, it was afterwards cultivated with much emulation in england, by wallis and holder, and was lately professed by mr. baker, who once flattered me with hopes of seeing his method published. how far any former teachers have succeeded, it is not easy to know; the improvement of mr. braidwood's pupils is wonderful. they not only speak, write, and understand what is written, but if he that speaks looks towards them, and modifies his organs by distinct and full utterance, they know so well what is spoken, that it is an expression scarcely figurative to say, they hear with the eye. that any have attained to the power mentioned by burnet, of feeling sounds, by laying a hand on the speaker's mouth, i know not; but i have seen so much, that i can believe more; a single word, or a short sentence, i think, may possibly be so distinguished. it will readily be supposed by those that consider this subject, that mr. braidwood's scholars spell accurately. orthography is vitiated among such as learn first to speak, and then to write, by imperfect notions of the relation between letters and vocal utterance; but to those students every character is of equal importance; for letters are to them not symbols of names, but of things; when they write they do not represent a sound, but delineate a form. this school i visited, and found some of the scholars waiting for their master, whom they are said to receive at his entrance with smiling countenances and sparkling eyes, delighted with the hope of new ideas. one of the young ladies had her slate before her, on which i wrote a question consisting of three figures, to be multiplied by two figures. she looked upon it, and quivering her fingers in a manner which i thought very pretty, but of which i know not whether it was art or play, multiplied the sum regularly in two lines, observing the decimal place; but did not add the two lines together, probably disdaining so easy an operation. i pointed at the place where the sum total should stand, and she noted it with such expedition as seemed to shew that she had it only to write. it was pleasing to see one of the most desperate of human calamities capable of so much help; whatever enlarges hope, will exalt courage; after having seen the deaf taught arithmetick, who would be afraid to cultivate the hebrides? such are the things which this journey has given me an opportunity of seeing, and such are the reflections which that sight has raised. having passed my time almost wholly in cities, i may have been surprised by modes of life and appearances of nature, that are familiar to men of wider survey and more varied conversation. novelty and ignorance must always be reciprocal, and i cannot but be conscious that my thoughts on national manners, are the thoughts of one who has seen but little. the journal of a tour to the hebrides with samuel johnson, ll.d. by james boswell dedication to edmond malone, esq. my dear sir, in every narrative, whether historical or biographical, authenticity is of the utmost consequence. of this i have ever been so firmly persuaded, that i inscribed a former work to that person who was the best judge of its truth. i need not tell you i mean general paoli; who, after his great, though unsuccessful, efforts to preserve the liberties of his country, has found an honourable asylum in britain, where he has now lived many years the object of royal regard and private respect; and whom i cannot name without expressing my very grateful sense of the uniform kindness which he has been pleased to shew me. the friends of doctor johnson can best judge, from internal evidence, whether the numerous conversations which form the most valuable part of the ensuing pages, are correctly related. to them, therefore i wish to appeal, for the accuracy of the portrait here exhibited to the world. as one of those who were intimately acquainted with him, you have a tide to this address. you have obligingly taken the trouble to peruse the original manuscript of this tour, and can vouch for the strict fidelity of the present publication. your literary alliance with our much lamented friend, in consequence of having undertaken to render one of his labours more complete, by your edition of shakespeare, a work which i am confident will not disappoint the expectations of the publick, gives you another claim. but i have a still more powerful inducement to prefix your name to this volume, as it gives me an opportunity of letting the world know that i enjoy the honour and happiness of your friendship; and of thus publickly testifying the sincere regard with which i am. my dear sir, your very faithful and obedient servant, james boswell. london, september . "he was of an admirable pregnancy of wit, and that pregnancy much improved by continual study from his childhood; by which he had gotten such a promptness in expressing his mind, that his extemporal speeches were little inferior to his premeditated writings. many, no doubt, had read as much and perhaps more than he; but scarce ever any concocted his reading into judgement as he did."--baker's chronicle dr johnson had for many years given me hopes that we should go together, and visit the hebrides. martin's account of those islands had impressed us with a notion that we might there contemplate a system of life almost totally different from what we had been accustomed to see; and, to find simplicity and wildness, and all the circumstances of remote time or place, so near to our native great island, was an object within the reach of reasonable curiosity. dr johnson has said in his journey, 'that he scarcely remembered how the wish to visit the hebrides was excited'; but he told me, in summer, , that his father put martin's account into his hands when he was very young, and that he was much pleased with it. we reckoned there would be some inconveniencies and hardships, and perhaps a little danger; but these we were persuaded were magnified in the imagination of every body. when i was at ferney, in , i mentioned our design to voltaire. he looked at me, as if i had talked of going to the north pole, and said, 'you do not insist on my accompanying you?' 'no, sir.' 'then i am very willing you should go.' i was not afraid that our curious expedition would be prevented by such apprehensions; but i doubted that it would not be possible to prevail on dr johnson to relinquish, for some time, the felicity of a london life, which, to a man who can enjoy it with full intellectual relish, is apt to make existence in any narrower sphere seem insipid or irksome. i doubted that he would not be willing to come down from his elevated state of philosophical dignity; from a superiority of wisdom among the wise, and of learning among the learned; and from flashing his wit upon minds bright enough to reflect it. he had disappointed my expectations so long, that i began to despair; but in spring, , he talked of coming to scotland that year with so much firmness, that i hoped he was at last in earnest. i knew that, if he were once launched from the metropolis, he would go forward very well; and i got our common friends there to assist in setting him afloat. to mrs thrale in particular, whose enchantment over him seldom failed, i was much obliged. it was, 'i'll give thee a wind.' 'thou art kind.' to attract him, we had invitations from the chiefs macdonald and macleod; and, for additional aid, i wrote to lord elibank, dr william robertson, and dr beattie. to dr robertson, so far as my letter concerned the present subject, i wrote as follows: our friend, mr samuel johnson, is in great health and spirits; and, i do think, has a serious resolution to visit scotland this year. the more attraction, however, the better; and therefore, though i know he will be happy to meet you there, it will forward the scheme, if, in your answer to this, you express yourself concerning it with that power of which you are so happily possessed, and which may be so directed as to operate strongly upon him. his answer to that part of my letter was quite as i could have wished. it was written with the address and persuasion of the historian of america. when i saw you last, you gave us some hopes that you might prevail with mr johnson to make that excursion to scotland, with the expectation of which we have long flattered ourselves. if he could order matters so, as to pass some time in edinburgh, about the close of the summer session, and then visit some of the highland scenes, i am confident he would be pleased with the grand features of nature in many parts of this country: he will meet with many persons here who respect him, and some whom i am persuaded he will think not unworthy of his esteem. i wish he would make the experiment. he sometimes cracks his jokes upon us; but he will find that we can distinguish between the stabs of malevolence, and 'the rebukes of the righteous, which are like excellent oil [footnote: our friend edmund burke, who by this time had received some pretty severe strokes from dr johnson, on account of the unhappy difference in their politicks, upon my repeating this passage to him, exclaimed, 'oil of vitriol!'], and break not the head'. offer my best compliments to him, and assure him that i shall be happy to have the satisfaction of seeing him under my roof. to dr beattie i wrote, the chief intention of this letter is to inform you, that i now seriously believe mr samuel johnson will visit scotland this year: but i wish that every power of attraction may be employed to secure our having so valuable an acquisition, and therefore i hope you will without delay write to me what i know you think, that i may read it to the mighty sage, with proper emphasis, before i leave london, which i must soon. he talks of you with the same warmth that he did last year. we are to see as much of scotland as we can, in the months of august and september. we shall not be long of being at marischal college [footnote: this, i find, is a scotticism. i should have said, 'it will not be long before we shall be at marischal college.']. he is particularly desirous of seeing some of the western islands. dr beattie did better: ipse venit. he was, however, so polite as to wave his privilege of nil mihi rescribus, and wrote from edinburgh, as follows: your very kind and agreeable favour of the th of april overtook me here yesterday, after having gone to aberdeen, which place i left about a week ago. i am to set out this day for london, and hope to have the honour of paying my respects to mr johnson and you, about a week or ten days hence. i shall then do what i can, to enforce the topick you mentioned; but at present i cannot enter upon it, as i am in a very great hurry; for i intend to begin my journey within an hour or two. he was as good as his word, and threw some pleasing motives into the northern scale. but, indeed, mr johnson loved all that he heard from one whom he tells us, in his lives of the poets, gray found 'a poet, a philosopher, and a good man'. my lord elibank did not answer my letter to his lordship for some time. the reason will appear, when we come to the isle of sky. i shall then insert my letter, with letters from his lordship, both to myself and mr johnson. i beg it may be understood, that i insert my own letters, as i relate my own sayings, rather as keys to what is valuable belonging to others, than for their own sake. luckily mr justice (now sir robert) chambers, who was about to sail for the east indies, was going to take leave of his relations at newcastle, and he conducted dr johnson to that town. mr scott, of university college, oxford, (now dr scott, of the commons) accompanied him from thence to edinburgh. with such propitious convoys did he proceed to my native city. but, lest metaphor should make it be supposed he actually went by sea, i choose to mention that he travelled in post-chaises, of which the rapid motion was one of his most favourite amusements. dr samuel johnson's character, religious, moral, political, and literary, nay his figure and manner, are, i believe, more generally known than those of almost any man; yet it may not be superfluous here to attempt a sketch of him. let my readers then remember that he was a sincere and zealous christian, of high church of england and monarchical principles, which he would not tamely suffer to be questioned; steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligations of piety and virtue, both from a regard to the order of society, and from a veneration for the great source of all order; correct, nay stern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended, impetuous and irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolent heart; having a mind stored with a vast and various collection of learning and knowledge, which he communicated with peculiar perspicuity and force, in rich and choice expression. he united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination, which gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing; for he could reason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. he could, when he chose it, be the greatest sophist that ever wielded a weapon in the schools of declamation; but he indulged this only in conversation; for he owned he sometimes talked for victory; he was too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, by deliberately writing it. he was conscious of his superiority. he loved praise when it was brought to him; but was too proud to seek for it. he was somewhat susceptible of flattery. his mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually a poet. it has been often remarked, that in his poetical pieces, which it is to be regretted are so few, because so excellent, his style is easier than in his prose. there is deception in this: it is not easier, but better suited to the dignity of verse; as one may dance with grace, whose motions, in ordinary walking--in the common step--are awkward. he had a constitutional melancholy, the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a gloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: yet, though grave and awful in his deportment, when he thought it necessary or proper, he frequently indulged himself in pleasantry and sportive sallies. he was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. though his imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous, and the mysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence with jealousy. he had a loud voice, and a slow deliberate utterance, which no doubt gave some additional weight to the sterling metal of his conversation. lord pembroke said once to me at wilton, with a happy pleasantry, and some truth, that 'dr johnson's sayings would not appear so extraordinary, were it not for his bow-wow way': but i admit the truth of this only on some occasions. the messiah, played upon the canterbury organ, is more sublime than when played upon an inferior instrument: but very slight musick will seem grand, when conveyed to the ear through that majestick medium. while therefore doctor johnson's sayings are read, let his manner be taken along with them. let it however be observed, that the sayings themselves are generally great; that, though he might be an ordinary composer at times, he was for the most part a handel. his person was large, robust, i may say approaching to the gigantick, and grown unwieldy from corpulency. his countenance was naturally of the craft of an ancient statue, but somewhat disfigured by the scars of that evil, which, it was formerly imagined, the royal touch could cure. he was now in his sixty-fourth year, and was become a little dull of hearing. his sight had always been somewhat weak; yet, so much does mind govern, and even supply the deficiency of organs, that his perceptions were uncommonly quick and accurate. his head, and sometimes also his body, shook with a kind of motion like the effect of a palsy: he appeared to be frequently disturbed by cramps, or convulsive contractions, [footnote: such they appeared to me: but since the first edition, sir joshua reynolds has observed to me, 'that dr johnson's extraordinary gestures were only habits, in which he indulged himself at certain times. when in company, where he was not free, or when engaged earnestly in conversation, he never gave way to such habits, which proves that they were not involuntary', i still however think, that these gestures were involuntary; for surely had not that been the case, he would have restrained them in the publick streets.] of the nature of that distemper called st vitus's dance. he wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, with twisted-hair buttons of the same colour, a large bushy greyish wig, a plain shirt, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles. upon this tour, when journeying, he wore boots, and a very wide brown cloth great coat, with pockets which might have almost held the two volumes of his folio dictionary; and he carried in his hand a large english oak stick. let me not be censured for mentioning such minute particulars. every thing relative to so great a man is worth observing. i remember dr adam smith, in his rhetorical lectures at glasgow, told us he was glad to know that milton wore latchets in his shoes, instead of buckles. when i mention the oak stick, it is but letting hercules have his club; and, by-and-by, my readers will find this stick will bud, and produce a good joke. this imperfect sketch of 'the combination and the form' of that wonderful man, whom i venerated and loved while in this world, and after whom i gaze with humble hope, now that it has pleased almighty god to call him to a better world, will serve to introduce to the fancy of my readers the capital object of the following journal, in the course of which i trust they will attain to a considerable degree of acquaintance with him. his prejudice against scotland was announced almost as soon as he began to appear in the world of letters. in his london, a poem, are the following nervous lines: for who would leave, unbrib'd, hibernia's land or change the rocks of scotland for the strand there none are swept by sudden fate away; but all, whom hunger spares, with age decay. the truth is, like the ancient greeks and romans, he allowed himself to look upon all nations but his own as barbarians: not only hibernia, and scotland, but spain, italy, and france, are attacked in the same poem. if he was particularly prejudiced against the scots, it was because they were more in his way; because he thought their success in england rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit; and because he could not but seen in them that nationality which i believe no liberal-minded scotsman will deny. he was indeed, if i may be allowed the phrase, at bottom much of a john bull; much of a blunt 'true born englishman'. there was a stratum of common clay under the rock of marble. he was voraciously fond of good eating; and he had a great deal of that quality called humour, which gives an oiliness and a gloss to every other quality. i am, i flatter myself, completely a citizen of the world. in my travels through holland, germany, switzerland, italy, corsica, france, i never felt myself from home; and i sincerely love 'every kindred and tongue and people and nation'. i subscribe to what my late truly learned and philosophical friend mr crosbie said, that the english are better animals than the scots; they are nearer the sun; their blood is richer, and more mellow: but when i humour any of them in an outrageous contempt of scotland, i fairly own i treat them as children. and thus i have, at some moments, found myself obliged to treat even dr johnson. to scotland however he ventured; and he returned from it in great humour, with his prejudices much lessened, and with very grateful feelings of the hospitality with which he was treated; as is evident from that admirable work, his journey to the western islands of scotland, which, to my utter astonishment, has been misapprehended, even to rancour, by many of my countrymen. to have the company of chambers and scott, he delayed his journey so long, that the court of session, which rises on the eleventh of august, was broke up before he got to edinburgh. on saturday the fourteenth of august, , late in the evening, i received a note from him, that he was arrived at boyd's inn, at the head of the canongate. i went to him directly. he embraced me cordially; and i exulted in the thought, that i now had him actually in caledonia. mr scott's amiable manners, and attachment to our socrates, at once united me to him. he told me that, before i came in, the doctor had unluckily had a bad specimen of scottish cleanliness. he then drank no fermented liquor. he asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. the doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window. scott said, he was afraid he would have knocked the waiter down. mr johnson told me, that such another trick was played him at the house of a lady in paris. he was to do me the honour to lodge under my roof. i regretted sincerely that i had not also a room for mr scott. mr johnson and i walked arm-in-arm up the high street, to my house in james's court: it was a dusky night: i could not prevent his being assailed by the evening effluvia of edinburgh. i heard a late baronet, of some distinction in the political world in the beginning of the present reign, observe, that 'walking the streets of edinburgh at night was pretty perilous, and a good deal odoriferous'. the peril is much abated, by the care which the magistrates have taken to enforce the city laws against throwing foul water from the windows; but, from the structure of the houses in the old town, which consist of many stories, in each of which a different family lives, and there being no covered sewers, the odour still continues. a zealous scotsman would have wished mr johnson to be without one of his five senses upon this occasion. as we marched slowly along, he grumbled in my ear, 'i smell you in the dark!' but he acknowledged that the breadth of the street, and the loftiness of the buildings on each side, made a noble appearance. my wife had tea ready for him, which it is well known he delighted to drink at all hours, particularly when sitting up late, and of which his able defence against mr jonas hanway should have obtained him a magnificent reward from the east india company. he shewed much complacency upon finding that the mistress of the house was so attentive to his singular habit; and as no man could be more polite when he chose to be so, his address to her was most courteous and engaging; and his conversation soon charmed her into a forgetfulness of his external appearance. i did not begin to keep a regular full journal till some days after we had set out from edinburgh; but i have luckily preserved a good many fragments of his memorabilia from his very first evening in scotland. we had, a little before this, had a trial for murder, in which the judges had allowed the lapse of twenty years since its commission as a plea in bar, in conformity with the doctrine of prescription in the civil law, which scotland and several other countries in europe have adopted. he at first disapproved of this; but then he thought there was something in it, if there had been for twenty years a neglect to prosecute a crime which was known. he would not allow that a murder, by not being discovered for twenty years, should escape punishment. we talked of the ancient trial by duel. he did not think it so absurd as is generally supposed; 'for,' said he, 'it was only allowed when the question was in equilibria, as when one affirmed and another denied; and they had a notion that providence would interfere in favour of him who was in the right. but as it was found that in a duel, he who was in the right had not a better chance than he who was in the wrong, therefore society instituted the present mode of trial, and gave the advantage to him who is in the right.' we sat till near two in the morning, having chatted a good while after my wife left us. she had insisted, that to shew all respect to the sage, she would give up her own bed-chamber to him, and take a worse. this i cannot but gratefully mention, as one of a thousand obligations which i owe her, since the great obligation of her being pleased to accept of me as her husband. sunday, th august mr scott came to breakfast, at which i introduced to dr johnson, and him, my friend sir william forbes, now of pitsligo; a man of whom too much good cannot be said; who, with distinguished abilities and application in his profession of a banker, is at once a good companion, and a good christian; which i think is saying enough. yet it is but justice to record, that once, when he was in a dangerous illness, he was watched with the anxious apprehension of a general calamity; day and night his house was beset with affectionate inquiries; and, upon his recovery, te deum was the universal chorus from the hearts of his countrymen. mr johnson was pleased with my daughter veronica,[footnote: "the saint's name of veronica was introduced into our family through my great grandmother veronica, countess of kincardine, a dutch lady of the noble house of sommelsdyck, of which there is a full account in bayle's dictionary. the family had once a princely right in surinam. the governour of that settlement was appointed by the states general, the town of amsterdam, and sommelsdyck. the states general have acquired sommelsdyck's right; but the family has still great dignity and opulence, and by intermarriages is connected with many other noble families. when i was at the hague, i was received with all the affection of kindred. the present sommelsdyck has an important charge in the republick, and is as worthy a man as lives. he has honoured me with his correspondence for these twenty years. my great grandfather, the husband of countess veronica, was alexander, earl of kincardine, that eminent royalist whose character is given by burnet in his history of his own times. from him the blood of bruce flows in my veins. of such ancestry who would not be proud? and, as nihil est, nisi hoc sciat alter, is peculiarly true of genealogy, who would not be glad to seize a fair opportunity to let it be known "] then a child of about four months old. she had the appearance of listening to him. his motions seemed to her to be intended for her amusement; and when he stopped, she fluttered, and made a little infantine noise, and a kind of signal for him to begin again. she would be held close to him; which was a proof, from simple nature, that his figure was not horrid. her fondness for him endeared her still more to me, and i declared she should have five hundred pounds of additional fortune. we talked of the practice of the law. william forbes said, he thought an honest lawyer should never undertake a cause which he was satisfied was not a just one. 'sir,' said mr johnson, 'a lawyer has no business with the justice or injustice of the cause which he undertakes, unless his client asks his opinion, and then he is bound to give it honestly. the justice or injustice of the cause is to be decided by the judge. consider, sir; what is the purpose of courts of justice? it is, that every man may have his cause fairly tried, by men appointed to try causes. a lawyer is not to tell what he knows to be a lie: he is not to produce what he knows to be a false deed; but he is not to usurp the province of the jury and of the judge, and determine what shall be the effect of evidence--what shall be the result of legal argument. as it rarely happens that a man is fit to plead his own cause, lawyers are a class of the community, who, by study and experience, have acquired the art and power of arranging evidence, and of applying to the points of issue what the law has settled. a lawyer is to do for his client all that his client might fairly do for himself, if he could. if, by a superiority of attention, of knowledge, of skill, and a better method of communication, he has the advantage of his adversary, it is an advantage to which he is entitled. there must always be some advantage, on one side or other; and it is better that advantage should be had by talents, than by chance. if lawyers were to undertake no causes till they were sure they were just, a man might be precluded altogether from a trial of his claim, though, were it judicially examined, it might be found a very just claim.' this was sound practical doctrine, and rationally repressed a too refined scrupulosity of conscience. emigration was at this time a common topick of discourse. dr johnson regretted it as hurtful to human happiness: 'for,' said he, 'it spreads mankind which weakens the defence of a nation, and lessens the comfort of living. men, thinly scattered, make a shift, but a bad shift, without many things. a smith is ten miles off: they'll do without a nail or a staple. a taylor is far from them: they'll botch their own clothes. it is being concentrated which produces high convenience.' sir william forbes, mr scott, and i, accompanied mr johnson to the chapel, founded by lord chief baron smith, for the service of the church of england. the reverend mr carre, the senior clergyman, preached from these words, 'because the lord reigneth, let the earth be glad.' i was sorry to think mr johnson did not attend to the sermon, mr carre's low voice not being strong enough to reach his hearing. a selection of mr carre's sermons has, since his death, been published by sir william forbes, and the world has acknowledged their uncommon merit. i am well assured lord mansfield has pronounced them to be excellent. here i obtained a promise from lord chief baron orde, that he would dine at my house next day. i presented mr johnson to his lordship, who politely said to him, 'i have not the honour of knowing you; but i hope for it, and to see you at my house. i am to wait on you tomorrow.' this respectable english judge will be long remembered in scotland, where he built an elegant house, and lived in it magnificently. his own ample fortune, with the addition of his salary, enabled him to be splendidly hospitable. it may be fortunate for an individual amongst ourselves to be lord chief baron; and a most worthy man now has the office; but, in my opinion, it is better for scotland in general, that some of our publick employments should be filled by gentlemen of distinction from the south side of the tweed, as we have the benefit of promotion in england. such an interchange would make a beneficial mixture of manners, and render our union more complete. lord chief baron orde was on good terms with us all, in a narrow country filled with jarring interests and keen parties; and, though i well knew his opinion to be the same with my own, he kept himself aloof at a very critical period indeed, when the douglas cause shook the sacred security of birthright in scotland to its foundation; a cause, which had it happened before the union, when there was no appeal to a british house of lords, would have left the great fortress of honours and of property in ruins. when we got home, dr johnson desired to see my books. he took down ogden's sermons on prayer, on which i set a very high value, having been much edified by them, and he retired with them to his room. he did not stay long, but soon joined us in the drawing room. i presented to him mr robert arbuthnot, a relation of the celebrated dr arbuthnot, and a man of literature and taste. to him we were obliged for a previous recommendation, which secured us a very agreeable reception at st andrews, and which dr johnson, in his journey, ascribes to 'some invisible friend'. of dr beattie, mr johnson said, 'sir, he has written like a man conscious of the truth, and feeling his own strength. treating your adversary with respect, is giving him an advantage to which he is not entitled. the greatest part of men cannot judge of reasoning, and are impressed by character; so that, if you allow your adversary a respectable character, they will think, that though you differ from him, you may be in the wrong. sir, treating your adversary with respect, is striking soft in a battle. and as to hume--a man who has so much conceit as to tell all mankind that they have been bubbled for ages, and he is the wise man who sees better than they--a man who has so little scrupulosity as to venture to oppose those principles which have been thought necessary to human happiness--is he to be surprised if another man comes and laughs at him? if he is the great man he thinks himself, all this cannot hurt him: it is like throwing peas against a rock.' he added 'something much too rough', both as to mr hume's head and heart, which i suppress. violence is, in my opinion, not suitable to the christian cause. besides, i always lived on good terms with mr hume, though i have frankly told him, i was not clear that it was right in me to keep company with him, 'but', said i, 'how much better are you than your books!' he was cheerful, obliging, and instructive; he was charitable to the poor; and many an agreeable hour have i passed with him: i have preserved some entertaining and interesting memoirs of him, particularly when he knew himself to be dying, which i may some time or other communicate to the world. i shall not, however, extol him so very highly as dr adam smith does, who says, in a letter to mr strahan the printer (not a confidential letter to his friend, but a letter which is published [footnote: this letter, though shattered by the sharp shot of dr horne of oxford's wit, in the character of 'one of the people called christians', is still prefixed to mr home's excellent history of england, like a poor invalid on the piquet guard, or like a list of quack medicines sold by the same bookseller, by whom a work of whatever nature is published; for it has no connection with his history, let it have what it may with what are called his philosophical works. a worthy friend of mine in london was lately consulted by a lady of quality, of most distinguished merit, what was the best history of england for her son to read. my friend recommended hume's. but, upon recollecting that its usher was a superlative panegyrick on one, who endeavoured to sap the credit of our holy religion, he revoked his recommendation. i am really sorry for this ostentatious alliance; because i admire the theory of moral sentiments, and value the greatest part of an inquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of nations. why should such a writer be so forgetful of human comfort, as to give any countenance to that dreary infidelity which would make us poor indeed!'] with all formality): 'upon the whole, i have always considered him, both in his life time and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit.' let dr smith consider: was not mr hume blest with good health, good spirits, good friends, a competent and increasing fortune? and had he not also a perpetual feast of fame? but, as a learned friend has observed to me, 'what trials did he undergo, to prove the perfection of his virtue? did he ever experience any great instance of adversity?' when i read this sentence, delivered by my old professor of moral philosophy, i could not help exclaiming with the psalmist, 'surely i have now more understanding than my teachers!' while we were talking, there came a note to me from dr william robertson. dear sir, i have been expecting every day to hear from you, of dr johnson's arrival. pray, what do you know about his motions? i long to take him by the hand. i write this from the college, where i have only this scrap of paper. ever yours, w.r. sunday. it pleased me to find dr robertson thus eager to meet dr johnson. i was glad i could answer, that he was come: and i begged dr robertson might be with us as soon as he could. sir william forbes, mr scott, mr arbuthnot, and another gentleman dined with us. 'come, dr johnson,' said i, 'it is commonly thought that our veal in scotland is not good. but here is some which i believe you will like.' there was no catching him: johnson. 'why, sir, what is commonly thought, i should take to be true. your veal may be good; but that will only be an exception to the general opinion; not a proof against it.' dr robertson, according to the custom of edinburgh at that time, dined in the interval between the forenoon and afternoon service, which was then later than now; so we had not the pleasure of his company till dinner was over, when he came and drank wine with us. and then began some animated dialogue, of which here follows a pretty full note. we talked of mr burke. dr johnson said, he had great variety of knowledge, store of imagery, copiousness of language. robertson. 'he has wit too.' johnson. 'no, sir; he never succeeds there. 'tis low; 'tis conceit. i used to say. burke never once made a good joke. [footnote: this was one of the points upon which dr johnson was strangely heterodox. for, surely, mr burke, with his other remarkable qualities, is also distinguished for his wit, and for wit of all kinds too; not merely that power of language which pope chooses to denominate wit. true wit is nature to advantage drest; what oft was thought, but ne'er so well exprest. but surprising allusions, brilliant sallies of vivacity, and pleasant conceits. his speeches in parliament are strewed with them. take, for instance, the variety which he has given in his wide range, yet exact detail, when exhibiting his reform bill. and his conversation abounds in wit. let me put down a specimen. i told him, i had seen, at a blue stocking assembly, a number of ladies sitting round a worthy and tall friend of ours, listening to his literature. 'ay,' said he, 'like maids round a may-pole.' i told him, i had found a perfect definition of human nature, as distinguished from the animal. an ancient philosopher said, man was a 'two-legged animal without feathers', upon which his rival sage had a cock plucked bare, and set him down in the school before all the disciples, as a 'philosophick man'. dr franklin said, man was 'a tool-making animal', which is very well; for no animal but man makes a thing, by means of which he can make another thing. but this applies to very few of the species. my definition of man is, 'a cooking animal'. the beasts have memory, judgment and all the faculties and passions of our mind, in a certain degree; but no beast is a cook. the trick of the monkey using the cat's paw to roast a chestnut is only a piece of shrewd malice in that turpissima bestia, which humbles us so sadly by its similarity to us. man alone can dress a good dish; and every man whatever is more or less a cook, in seasoning what he himself eats. 'your definition is good,' said mr burke, 'and i now see the full force of the common proverb. "there is reason in roasting of eggs".' when mr wilkes, in his days of tumultuous opposition, was borne upon the shoulders of the mob. mr burke (as mr wilkes told me himself, with classical admiration,) applied to him what horace says of pindar, ... numerisque fertur lege solutis. sir joshua reynolds, who agrees with me entirely as to mr burke's fertility of wit said, that this was 'dignifying a pun'. he also observed, that he has often heard burke say, in the course of an evening, ten good things, each of which would have served a noted wit (whom he named) to live upon for a twelvemonth. i find, since the former edition, that some persons have objected to the instances which i have given of mr burke's wit, as not doing justice to my very ingenious friend; the specimens produced having, it is alleged, more of conceit than real wit and being merely sportive sallies of the moment, not justifying the encomium which they think with me, he undoubtedly merits. i was well aware, how hazardous it was to exhibit particular instances of wit, which is of so airy and spiritual a nature as often to elude the hand that attempts to grasp it. the excellence and efficacy of a bon mot depend frequently so much on the occasion on which it is spoken, on the particular manner of the speaker, on the person of whom it is applied, the previous introduction, and a thousand minute particulars which cannot be easily enumerated, that it is always dangerous to detach a witty saying from the group to which it belongs, and to see it before the eye of the spectator, divested of those concomitant circumstances, which gave it animation, mellowness, and relief. i ventured, however, at all hazards to put down the first instances that occurred to me, as proofs of mr burke's lively and brilliant fancy; but am very sensible that his numerous friends could have suggested many of a superior quality. indeed, the being in company with him, for a single day, is sufficient to shew that what i have asserted is well founded; and it was only necessary to have appealed to all who know him intimately, for a complete refutation of the heterodox opinion entertained by dr johnson on this subject. he allowed mr burke, as the reader will find hereafter, to be a man of consummate and unrivalled abilities in every light except that now under consideration; and the variety of his allusions, and splendour of his imagery, have made such an impression on all the rest of the world, that superficial observers are apt to overlook his other merits, and to suppose that wit is his chief and most prominent excellence; when in fact it is only one of the many talents that he possesses, which are so various and extraordinary, that it is very difficult to ascertain precisely the rank and value of each.] what i most envy burke for, is, his being constantly the same. he is never what we call humdrum; never unwilling to begin to talk, nor in haste to leave off.' boswell. 'yet he can listen.' johnson. 'no; i cannot say he is good at that. so desirous is he to talk, that, if one is speaking at this end of the table, he'll speak to somebody at the other end. burke, sir, is such a man, that if you met him for the first time in the street where you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five minutes, he'd talk to you in such a manner, that, when you parted, you would say, this is an extraordinary man. now, you may be long enough with me, without finding any thing extraordinary.' he said, he believed burke was intended for the law; but either had not money enough to follow it, or had not diligence enough. he said, he could not understand how a man could apply to one thing, and not to another. robertson said, one man had more judgment, another more imagination. johnson. 'no, sir; it is only, one man has more mind than another. he may direct it differently; he may, by accident, see the success of one kind of study, and take a desire to excel in it. i am persuaded that, had sir isaac newton applied to poetry, he would have made a very fine epick poem. i could as easily apply to law as to tragick poetry.' boswell. 'yet, sir, you did apply to tragick poetry, not to law.' johnson. 'because, sir, i had not money to study law. sir, the man who has vigour, may walk to the east, just as well as to the west, if he happens to turn his head that way.' boswell. 'but, sir, 'tis like walking up and down a hill; one man will naturally do the one better than the other. a hare will run up a hill best, from her fore-legs being short; a dog down.' johnson. 'nay, sir; that is from mechanical powers. if you make mind mechanical, you may argue in that manner. one mind is a vice, and holds fast; there's a good memory. another is a file; and he is a disputant, a controversialist. another is a razor; and he is sarcastical.' we talked of whitefield. he said, he was at the same college with him, and knew him 'before he began to be better than other people' (smiling); that he believed he sincerely meant well, but had a mixture of politicks and ostentation: whereas wesley thought of religion only. [footnote: that cannot be said now, after the flagrant part which mr john wesley took against our american brethren, when, in his own name, he threw amongst his enthusiastic flock, the very individual combustibles of dr johnson's taxation no tyranny: and after the intolerant spirit which he manifested against our fellow christians of the roman catholick communion, for which that able champion, father o'leary, has given him so hearty a drubbing. but i should think myself very unworthy, if i did not at the same time acknowledge mr john wesley's merit, as a veteran 'soldier of jesus christ', who has, i do believe, 'turned many from darkness into light, and from the power of satan to the living god'.] robertson said, whitefield had strong natural eloquence, which, if cultivated, would have done great things. johnson. 'why, sir, i take it, he was at the height of what his abilities could do, and was sensible of it. he had the ordinary advantages of education; but he chose to pursue that oratory which is for the mob.' boswell. 'he had great effect on the passions.' johnson. 'why, sir, i don't think so. he could not represent a succession of pathetick images. he vociferated, and made an impression. there, again, was a mind like a hammer.' dr johnson now said, a certain eminent political friend of ours was wrong, in his maxim of sticking to a certain set of men on all occasions. 'i can see that a man may do right to stick to a party,' said he;' that is to say, he is a whig, or he is a tory, and he thinks one of those parties upon the whole the best, and that to make it prevail, it must be generally supported, though, in particulars, it may be wrong. he takes its faggot of principles, in which there are fewer rotten sticks than in the other, though some rotten sticks to be sure; and they cannot well be separated. but, to bind one's self to one man, or one set of men (who may be right to-day and wrong to-morrow), without any general preference of system, i must disapprove.' [footnote: if due attention were paid to this observation, there would be more virtue, even in politicks. what dr johnson justly condemned, has, i am sorry to say, greatly increased in the present reign. at the distance of four years from this conversation, st february , my lord archbishop of york, in his 'sermon before the society for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts', thus indignantly describes the then state of parties: 'parties once had a principle belonging to them, absurd perhaps, and indefensible, but still carrying a notion of duty, by which honest minds might easily be caught. 'but they are now combinations of individuals, who, instead of being the sons and servants of the community, make a league for advancing their private interests. it is their business to hold high the notion of political honour. i believe and trust, it is not injurious to say, that such a bond is no better than that by which the lowest and wickedest combinations are held together; and that it denotes the last stage of political depravity.' to find a thought, which just shewed itself to us from the mind of johnson, thus appearing again at such a distance of time, and without any communication between them, enlarged to full growth in the mind of markham, is a curious object of philosophical contemplation. that two such great and luminous minds should have been so dark in one corner--that they should have held it to be 'wicked rebellion in the british subjects established in america, to resist the abject condition of holding all their property at the mercy of british subjects remaining at home, while their allegiance to our common lord the king was to be preserved inviolate'--is a striking proof to me, either that 'he who fitteth in heaven', scorns the loftiness of human pride, or that the evil spirit, whose personal existence i strongly believe, and even in this age am confirmed in that belief by a fell, nay, by a hurd, has more power than some choose to allow.] he told us of cooke, who translated hesiod, and lived twenty years on a translation of plautus, for which he was always taking subscriptions; and that he presented foote to a club, in the following singular manner: 'this is the nephew of the gentleman who was lately hung in chains for murdering his brother.' in the evening i introduced to mr johnson [footnote: it may be observed, that i sometimes call my great friend, mr johnson, sometimes dr johnson, though he had at this time a doctor's degree from trinity college, dublin. the university of oxford afterwards conferred it upon him by a diploma, in very honourable terms. it was some time before i could bring myself to call him doctor; but as he has been long known by that title, i shall give it to him in the rest of this journal.] two good friends of mine, mr william nairne, advocate, and mr hamilton of sundrum, my neighbour in the country, both of whom supped with us. i have preserved nothing of what passed, except that dr johnson displayed another of his heterodox opinions--a contempt of tragick acting. he said, 'the action of all players in tragedy is bad. it should be a man's study to repress those signs of emotion and passion, as they are called.' he was of a directly contrary opinion to that of fielding, in his tom jones; who makes partridge say, of garrick, 'why, i could act as well as he myself. i am sure, if i had seen a ghost, i should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did.' for, when i asked him, 'would not you, sir, start as mr garrick does, if you saw a ghost?' he answered, 'i hope not. if i did, i should frighten the ghost.' monday, th august dr william robertson came to breakfast. we talked of ogden on prayer. dr johnson said, 'the same arguments which are used against god's hearing prayer, will serve against his rewarding good, and punishing evil. he has resolved, he has declared, in the former case as in the latter.' he had last night looked into lord hailes's remarks on the history of scotland. dr robertson and i said, it was a pity lord hailes did not write greater things. his lordship had not then published his annals of scotland. johnson. 'i remember i was once on a visit at the house of a lady for whom i had a high respect. there was a good deal of company in the room. when they were gone, i said to this lady, "what foolish talking have we had!" "yes," said she, "but while they talked, you said nothing." i was struck with reproof. how much better is the man who does nothing. besides, i love anecdotes. i fancy mankind may come, in time, to write all aphoristically, except in narrative; grow weary of preparation, and connection, and illustration, and all those arts by which a big book is made. if a man is to wait till he weaves anecdotes into a system, we may be long in getting them, and get but a few, in comparison of what we might get.' dr robertson said, the notions of eupham macallan. a fanatick woman, of whom lord hailes gives a sketch, were still prevalent among some of the presbyterians; and therefore it was right in lord hailes, a man of known piety, to undeceive them. we walked out, that dr johnson might see some of the things which we have to shew at edinburgh. we went to the parliament house, where the parliament of scotland sat, and where the ordinary lords of session hold their courts; and to the new session house adjoining to it, where our court of fifteen (the fourteen ordinaries, with the lord president at their head) sit as a court of review. we went to the advocates' library, of which dr johnson took a cursory view, and then to what is called the laigh (or under) parliament house, where the records of scotland, which has an universal security by register, are deposited, till the great register office be finished. i was pleased to behold dr samuel johnson rolling about in this old magazine of antiquities. there was, by this time, a pretty numerous circle of us attending upon him. somebody talked of happy moments for composition; and how a man can write at one time, and not at another. 'nay,' said dr johnson, 'a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly [footnote: this word is commonly used to signify sullenly, gloomily: and in that sense alone it appears in dr johnson's dictionary. i suppose he meant by it 'with an obstinate resolution, similar to that of a sullen man'.] to it.' i here began to indulge old scottish sentiments, and to express a warm regret, that, by our union with england, we were no more--our independent kingdom was lost. johnson. 'sir, never talk of your independency, who could let your queen remain twenty years in captivity, and then be put to death, without even a pretence of justice, without your ever attempting to rescue her; and such a queen too! as every man of any gallantry of spirit would have sacrificed his life for.' worthy mr james kerr, keeper of the records. 'half our nation was bribed by english money.' johnson. 'sir, that is no defence: that makes you worse.' good mr brown, keeper of the advocates library. 'we had better say nothing about it.' boswell. 'you would have been glad, however, to have had us last war, sir, to fight your battles!' johnson. 'we should have had you for the same price, though there had been no union, as we might have had swiss, or other troops. no, no, i shall agree to a separation. you have only to go home.' just as he had said this, i to divert the subject, shewed him the signed assurances of the three successive kings of the hanover family, to maintain the presbyterian establishment in scotland. 'we'll give you that,' said he, 'into the bargain.' we next went to the great church of st giles, which has lost its original magnificence in the inside, by being divided into four places of presbyterian worship. 'come,' said dr johnson jocularly to principal robertson, [footnote: i have hitherto called him dr william robertson, to distinguish him from dr james robertson, who is soon to make his appearance. but 'principal', from his being the head of our college, is his usual designation, and is shorter; so i shall use it hereafter.] 'let me see what was once a church!' we entered that division which was formerly called the new church, and of late the high church, so well known by the eloquence of dr hugh blair. it is now very elegantly fitted up; but it was then shamefully dirty. dr johnson said nothing at the time; but when we came to the great door of the royal infirmary, where, upon a board, was this inscription, clean your feet! he turned about slyly, and said, 'there is no occasion for putting this at the doors of your churches!' we then conducted him down the post-house stairs, parliament close, and made him look up from the cow-gate to the highest building in edinburgh (from which he had just descended), being thirteen floors or stories from the ground upon the back elevation; the front wall being built upon the edge of the hill, and the back wall rising from the bottom of the hill several stories before it comes to a level with the front wall. we proceeded to the college, with the principal at our head. dr adam fergusson, whose essay on the history of civil society gives him a respectable place in the ranks of literature, was with us. as the college buildings are indeed very mean, the principal said to dr johnson, that he must give them the same epithet that a jesuit did when shewing a poor college abroad: hae miseriae nostrae. dr johnson was, however, much pleased with the library, and with the conversation of dr james robertson, professor of oriental languages, the librarian. we talked of kennicot's edition of the hebrew bible, and hoped it would be quite faithful. johnson. 'sir, i know not any crime so great that a man could contrive to commit, as poisoning the sources of eternal truth.' i pointed out to him where there formerly stood an old wall enclosing part of the college, which i remember bulged out in a threatening manner, and of which there was a common tradition similar to that concerning bacon's study at oxford, that it would fall upon some very learned man. it had some time before this been taken down, that the street might be widened, and a more convenient wall built. dr johnson, glad of an opportunity to have a pleasant hit at scottish learning, said, 'they have been afraid it never would fall'. we shewed him the royal infirmary, for which, and for every other exertion of generous publick spirit in his power, that noble-minded citizen of edinburgh, george drummond, will be ever held in honourable remembrance. and we were too proud not to carry him to the abbey of holyrood house, that beautiful piece of architecture, but, alas! that deserted mansion of royalty, which hamilton of bangour, in one of his elegant poems, calls a virtuous palace, where no monarch dwells. i was much entertained while principal robertson fluently harangued to dr johnson, upon the spot, concerning scenes of his celebrated history of scotland. we surveyed that part of the palace appropriated to the duke of hamilton, as keeper, in which our beautiful queen mary lived, and in which david rizzio was murdered; and also the state rooms. dr johnson was a great reciter of all sorts of things serious or comical. i over-heard him repeating here, in a kind of muttering tone, a line of the old ballad, 'johnny armstrong's last good-night': 'and ran him through the fair body!' [footnote: the stanza from which he took this line is: but then rose up all edinburgh, they rose up by thousands three; a cowardly scot came john behind, and ran him through the fair body!] we returned to my house, where there met him, at dinner, the duchess of douglas, sir adolphus oughton, lord chief baron, sir william forbes, principal robertson, mr cullen, advocate. before dinner, he told us of a curious conversation between the famous george faulkner and him. george said that england had drained ireland of fifty thousand pounds in specie, annually, for fifty years. 'how so, sir!' said dr johnson, 'you must have a very great trade?' 'no trade.' 'very rich mines?' 'no mines.' 'from whence, then, does all this money come?' 'come! why out of the blood and bowels of the poor people of ireland!' he seemed to me to have an unaccountable prejudice against swift; for i once took a liberty to ask him, if swift had personally offended him, and he told me, he had not. he said to-day, 'swift is clear, but he is shallow. in coarse humour, he is inferior to arbuthnot; in delicate humour, he is inferior to addison: so he is inferior to his contemporaries; without putting him against the whole world. i doubt if the tale of a tub was his: it has so much more thinking, more knowledge, more power, more colour, than any of the works which are indisputably his. if it was his, i shall only say, he was impar sibi.' we gave him as good a dinner as we could. our scotch muir-fowl, or growse, were then abundant, and quite in season; and, so far as wisdom and wit can be aided by administering agreeable sensations to the palate, my wife took care that our great guest should not be deficient. sir adolphus oughton, then our deputy commander in chief, who was not only an excellent officer, but one of the most universal scholars i ever knew, had learned the erse language, and expressed his belief in the authenticity of ossian's poetry. dr johnson took the opposite side of that perplexed question; and i was afraid the dispute would have run high between them. but sir adolphus, who had a very sweet temper, changed the discourse, grew playful, laughed at lord monboddo's notion of men having tails, and called him a judge, a posteriori, which amused dr johnson; and thus hostilities were prevented. at supper we had dr cullen, his son the advocate, dr adam fergusson, and mr crosbie, advocate. witchcraft was introduced. mr crosbie said, he thought it the greatest blasphemy to suppose evil spirits counteracting the deity, and raising storms, for instance, to destroy his creatures. johnson. 'why, sir, if moral evil be consistent with the government of the deity, why may not physical evil be also consistent with it? it is not more strange that there should be evil spirits, than evil embodied spirits. and as to storms, we know there are such things; and it is no worse that evil spirits raise them, than that they rise.' crosbie. 'but it is not credible, that witches should have effected what they are said in stories to have done.' johnson. 'sir, i am not defending their credibility. i am only saying, that your arguments are not good, and will not overturn the belief of witchcraft.' (dr fergusson said to me, aside, 'he is right.') 'and then, sir, you have all mankind, rude and civilized, agreeing in the belief of the agency of preternatural powers. you must take evidence: you must consider, that wise and great men have condemned witches to die.' crosbie. 'but an act of parliament put an end to witchcraft.' johnson. 'no, sir; witchcraft had ceased; and therefore an act of parliament was passed to prevent persecution for what was not witchcraft. why it ceased, we cannot tell, as we cannot tell the reason of many other things.' dr cullen, to keep up the gratification of mysterious disquisition, with the grave address for which he is remarkable in his companionable as in his professional hours, talked, in a very entertaining manner, of people walking and conversing in their sleep. i am very sorry i have no note of this. we talked of the ouran-outang, and of lord monboddo's thinking that he might be taught to speak. dr johnson treated this with ridicule. mr crosbie said, that lord monboddo believed the existence of every thing possible; in short, that all which is in posse might be found in esse. johnson. 'but, sir, it is as possible that the ouran-outang does not speak, as that he speaks. however, i shall not contest the point. i should have thought it not possible to find a monboddo; yet he exists.' i again mentioned the stage. johnson. 'the appearance of a player, with whom i have drunk tea, counteracts the imagination that he is the character he represents. nay, you know, nobody imagines that he is the character he represents. they say, "see garrick! how he looks to-night! see how he'll clutch the dagger!" that is the buzz of the theatre.' tuesday, th august sir william forbes came to breakfast, and brought with him dr blacklock, whom he introduced to dr johnson, who received him with a most humane complacency. 'dear blacklock, i am glad to see you!' blacklock seemed to be much surprised, when dr johnson said, 'it was easier to him to write poetry than to compose his dictionary. his mind was less on the stretch in doing the one than the other. besides; composing a dictionary requires books and a desk: you can make a poem walking in the fields, or lying in bed.' dr blacklock spoke of scepticism in morals and religion, with apparant uneasiness, as if he wished for more certainty. dr johnson, who had thought it all over, and whose vigorous understanding was fortified by much experience, thus encouraged the blind bard to apply to higher speculations what we willingly submit to in common life: in short, he gave him more familiarly the able and fair reasoning of butler's analogy: 'why, sir, the greatest concern we have in this world, the choice of our profession, must be determined without demonstrative reasoning. human life is not yet so well known, as that we can have it. and take the case of a man who is ill. i call two physicians: they differ in opinion. i am not to lie down, and die between them: i must do something.' the conversation then turned on atheism; on that horrible book, systeme de la nature; and on the supposition of an eternal necessity, without design, without a governing mind. johnson. 'if it were so, why has it ceased? why don't we see men thus produced around us now? why, at least, does it not keep pace, in some measure, with the progress of time? if it stops because there is now no need of it, then it is plain there is, and ever has been, an all-powerful intelligence. but stay!' said he, with one of his satyrick laughs. 'hal ha! ha! i shall suppose scotchmen made necessarily, and englishmen by choice.' at dinner this day, we had sir alexander dick, whose amiable character, and ingenious and cultivated mind, are so generally known (he was then on the verge of seventy, and is now ( ) eighty-one, with his faculties entire, his heart warm, and his temper gay); sir david dalrymple; lord hailes; mr maclaurin, advocate; dr gregory, who now worthily fills his father's medical chair; and my uncle, dr boswell. this was one of dr johnson's best days. he was quite in his element. all was literature and taste, without any interruption. lord hailes, who is one of the best philologists in great britain, who has written papers in the world, and a variety of other works in prose and in verse, both latin and english, pleased him highly. he told him, he had discovered the life of cheynel, in the student, to be his. johnson. 'no one else knows it.' dr johnson had, before this, dictated to me a law-paper, upon a question purely in the law of scotland, concerning 'vicious intromission', that is to say, intermeddling with the effects of a deceased person, without a regular title; which formerly was understood to subject the intermeddler to payment of all the defunct's debts. the principle has of late been relaxed. dr johnson's argument was, for a renewal of its strictness. the paper was printed, with additions by me, and given into the court of session. lord hailes knew dr johnson's part not to be mine, and pointed out exactly where it began, and where it ended. dr johnson said, 'it is much, now, that his lordship can distinguish so.' in dr johnson's vanity of human wishes, there is the following passage: the teeming mother, anxious for her race, begs, for each birth, the fortune of a face: yet vane could tell, what ills from beauty spring; and sedley curs'd the charms which pleas'd a king. lord hailes told him, he was mistaken in the instances he had given of unfortunate fair ones; for neither vane nor sedley had a title to that description. his lordship has since been so obliging as to send me a note of this, for the communication of which i am sure my readers will thank me. the lines in the tenth satire of juvenal, according to my alteration, should have run thus: yet shore [footnote: mistress of edward iv.] could tell--; and valiere [footnote: mistress of louis xiv.] curs'd--. the first was a penitent by compulsion, the second by sentiment; though the truth is, mademoiselle de la valiere threw herself (but still from sentiment) in the king's way. 'our friend chose vane, who was far from being well-looked; and sedley, who was so ugly, that charles ii said, his brother had her by way of penance.' mr maclaurin's learning and talents enabled him to do his part very well in dr johnson's company. he produced two epitaphs upon his father, the celebrated mathematician. one was in english, of which dr johnson did not change one word. in the other, which was in latin, he made several alterations. in place of the very words of virgil, ubi luctus et pavor et plurima mortis imago, he wrote ubi luctus regnant et pavor. he introduced the word prorsus into the line mortalibus prorsus non absit solatium and after hujus enim scripta evolve, he added, mentemque tantarum rerum capacem corpori caduco superstitem crede; which is quite applicable to dr johnson himself. [footnote: mr maclaurin's epitaph, as engraved on a marble tombstone, in the gray-friars church-yard, edinburgh: infra situs est colin maclaurin mathes. olim in acad. edin. prof. electus ipso newtono suadente. h. l. p. f. non ut nomini paterno consulat, nam tali auxilio nil eget; sed ut in hoc infelici campo, ubi luctus regnant et pavor, mortalibus prorsus non absit solatium: hujus enim scripta evolve, mentemque tantarum rerum capacem corpori caduco superstitem crede.] mr murray, advocate, who married a niece of lord mansfield's and is now one of the judges of scotland, by the title of lord henderland, sat with us a part of the evening; but did not venture to say any thing, that i remember, though he is certainly possessed of talents which would have enabled him to have shewn himself to advantage, if too great anxiety had not prevented him. at supper we had dr alexander webster, who, though not learned, had such a knowledge of mankind, such a fund of information and entertainment, so clear a head and such accommodating manners, that dr johnson found him a very agreeable companion. when dr johnson and i were left by ourselves, i read to him my notes of the opinions of our judges upon the questions of literary property. he did not like them; and said, 'they make me think of your judges not with that respect which i should wish to do'. to the argument of one of them, that there can be no property in blasphemy or nonsense, he answered, 'then your rotten sheep are mine! by that rule, when a man's house falls into decay, he must lose it.' i mentioned an argument of mine, that literary performances are not taxed. as churchill says, no statesman yet has thought it worth his pains to tax our labours, or excite our brains; and therefore they are not property. 'yet,' said he, 'we hang a man for stealing a horse, and horses are not taxed.' mr pitt has since put an end to that argument. wednesday, th august on this day we set out from edinburgh. we should gladly have had mr scott to go with us; but he was obliged to return to england. i have given a sketch of dr johnson: my readers may wish to know a little of his fellow traveller. think then, of a gentleman of ancient blood, the pride of which was his predominant passion. he was then in his thirty-third year, and had been about four years happily married. his inclination was to be a soldier; but his father, a respectable judge, had pressed him into the profession of the law. he had travelled a good deal, and seen many varieties of human life. he had thought more than any body supposed, and had a pretty good stock of general learning and knowledge. he had all dr johnson's principles, with some degree of relaxation. he had rather too little, than too much prudence, and, his imagination being lively, he often said things of which the effect was very different from the intention. he resembled sometimes the best good man, with the worst natur'd muse. he cannot deny himself the vanity of finishing with the encomium of dr johnson, whose friendly partiality to the companion of his tour represents him as one, 'whose acuteness would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation, and civility of manners, are sufficient to counteract the inconveniences of travel, in countries less hospitable than we have passed.' dr johnson thought it unnecessary to put himself to the additional expense of bringing with him francis barber, his faithful black servant; so we were attended only by my man, joseph ritter, a bohemian; a fine stately fellow above six feet high, who had been over a great part of europe, and spoke many languages. he was the best servant i ever saw. let not my readers disdain his introduction! for dr johnson gave him this character: 'sir, he is a civil man, and a wise man.' from an erroneous apprehension of violence, dr johnson had provided a pair of pistols, some gun-powder, and a quantity of bullets: but upon being assured we should run no risk of meeting any robbers, he left his arms and ammunition in an open drawer, of which he gave my wife the charge. he also left in that drawer one volume of a pretty full and curious diary of his life, of which i have a few fragments; but the book has been destroyed. i wish female curiosity had been strong enough to have had it all transcribed, which might easily have been done; and i should think the theft, being pro bono publico, might have been forgiven. but i may be wrong. my wife told me she never once looked into it. she did not seem quite easy when we left her: but away we went! mr nairne, advocate, was to go with us as far as st andrews. it gives me pleasure that, by mentioning his name, i connect his title to the just and handsome compliment paid him by dr johnson, in his book: 'a gentleman who could stay with us only long enough to make us know how much we lost by his leaving us.' when we came to leith, i talked with perhaps too boasting an air, how pretty the frith of forth looked; as indeed, after the prospect from constantinople, of which i have been told, and that from naples, which i have seen, i believe the view of that frith and its environs, from the castle hill of edinburgh, is the finest prospect in europe. 'ay,' said dr johnson, 'that is the state of the world. water is the same every where. una est injusti caerula forma maris. [footnote: non illic urbes, non tu mirabere silvas: una est injusti caerula forma maris. ovid. amor. ii. xi. nor groves nor towns the ruthless ocean shows; unvaried still its azure surface flows.] i told him the port here was the mouth of the river or water of leith. 'not lethe,' said mr nairne. 'why, sir,' said dr johnson, 'when a scotchman sets out from this port for england, he forgets his native country.' nairne. 'i hope, sir, you will forget england here.' johnson. 'then 'twill be still more lethe.' he observed of the pier or quay, 'you have no occasion for so large a one: your trade does not require it: but you are like a shopkeeper who takes a shop, not only for what he has to put into it, but that it may be believed he has a great deal to put into it'. it is very true, that there is now, comparatively, little trade upon the eastern coast of scotland. the riches of glasgow shew how much there is in the west; and perhaps we shall find trade travel westward on a great scale, as well as a small. we talked of a man's drowning himself. johnson. 'i should never think it time to make away with myself.' i put the case of eustace budgell, who was accused of forging a will, and sunk himself in the thames, before the trial of its authenticity came on. 'suppose, sir,' said i, 'that a man is absolutely sure, that, if he lives a few days longer, he shall be detected in a fraud, the consequence of which will be utter disgrace and expulsion from society.' johnson. 'then, sir, let him go abroad to a distant country; let him go to some place where he is not known. don't let him go to the devil where he is known!' he then said, 'i see a number of people bare-footed here: i suppose you all went so before the union. boswell, your ancestors went so, when they had as much land as your family has now. yet auchinleck is the field of stones: there would be bad going bare-footed here. the lairds, however, did it.' i bought some speldings, fish (generally whitings) salted and dried in a particular manner, being dipped in the sea and dried in the sun, and eaten by the scots by way of a relish. he had never seen them, though they are sold in london. i insisted on scottifying [footnote: my friend, general campbell, governour of madras, tells me, that they make speldings in the east indies, particularly at bombay, where they call them bambaloes.] his palate; but he was very reluctant. with difficulty i prevailed with him to let a bit of one of them lie in his mouth. he did not like it. in crossing the frith, dr johnson determined that we should land upon inch keith. on approaching it, we first observed a high rocky shore. we coasted about, and put into a little bay on the north-west. we clambered up a very steep ascent, on which was very good grass, but rather a profusion of thistles. there were sixteen head of black cattle grazing upon the island. lord hailes observed to me, that brantome calls it l'isle des chevaux, and that it was probably 'a safer stable' than many others in his time. the fort, with an inscription on it, maria re , is strongly built. dr johnson examined it with much attention. he stalked like a giant among the luxuriant thistles and nettles. there are three wells in the island; but we could not find one in the fort. there must probably have been one, though now filled up, as a garrison could not subsist without it. but i have dwelt too long on this little spot. dr johnson afterwards bade me try to write a description of our discovering inch keith, in the usual style of travellers, describing fully every particular; stating the grounds on which we concluded that it must have once been inhabited, and introducing many sage reflections; and we should see how a thing might be covered in words, so as to induce people to come and survey it. all that was told might be true, and yet in reality there might be nothing to see. he said, 'i'd have this island. i'd build a house, make a good landing-place, have a garden, and vines, and all sorts of trees. a rich man, of a hospitable turn, here, would have many visitors from edinburgh.' when we had got into our boat again, he called to me, 'come, now, pay a classical compliment to the island on quitting it.' i happened luckily, in allusion to the beautiful queen mary, whose name is upon the fort, to think of what virgil makes aeneas say, on having left the country of his charming dido: invitus, regina, tuo de littare cessi. [footnote: unhappy queen! unwilling i forsook your friendly state. dryden] 'very well hit off!' said he. we dined at kinghorn, and then got into a post-chaise. mr nairne and his servant, and joseph, rode by us. we stopped at cupar, and drank tea. we talked of parliament; and i said, i supposed very few of the members knew much of what was going on, as indeed very few gentlemen know much of their own private affairs. johnson. 'why, sir, if a man is not of a sluggish mind, he may be his own steward. if he will look into his affairs, he will soon learn. so it is as to publick affairs. there must always be a certain number of men of business in parliament.' boswell. 'but consider, sir; what is the house of commons? is not a great part of it chosen by peers? do you think, sir, they ought to have such an influence?' johnson. 'yes, sir. influence must ever be in proportion to property; and it is right it should.' boswell. 'but is there not reason to fear that the common people may be oppressed?' johnson. 'no, sir. our great fear is from want of power in government. such a storm of vulgar force has broke in.' boswell. 'it has only roared.' johnson. 'sir, it has roared, till the judges in westminster hall have been afraid to pronounce sentence in opposition to the popular cry. you are frightened by what is no longer dangerous, like presbyterians by popery.' he then repeated a passage, i think, in butler's remains, which ends, 'and would cry, fire! fire! in noah's flood'. [footnote: the passage quoted by dr johnson is in the character of the assembly-man. butler's remains, p. , edit. . 'he preaches, indeed, both in season and out of season; for he rails at popery, when the land is almost lost in presbytery; and would cry fire! fire! in noah's flood.' there is no reason to believe that this piece was not written by butler, but by sir john birkenhead; for wood, in his athenae oxonienses. vol. ii. p. . enumerates it among that gentleman's works, and gives the following account of it: the assembly-man (or the character of an assembly-man) written , lond. - , in three sheets in qu. the copy of it was taken from the author by those who said they could not rob, because all was theirs; so excised what they liked not; and so mangled and reformed it that it was no character of an assembly, but of themselves. at length, after it had slept several years, the author published it, to avoid false copies. it is also reprinted in a book entit. wit and loyalty revived, in a collection of some smart satyrs in verse and prose on the late times. lond. , qu. said to be written by abr. cowley, sir john birkenhead, and hudibras, alias sam. butler.' for this information i am indebted to mr reed, of staple inn.] we had a dreary drive, in a dusky night, to st andrews, where we arrived late. we found a good supper at glass's inn, and dr johnson revived agreeably. he said, 'the collection called the muses' welcome to king james (first of england, and sixth of scotland), on his return to his native kingdom, shewed that there was then abundance of learning in scotland; and that the conceits in that collection, with which people find fault, were mere mode'. he added, 'we could not now entertain a sovereign so; that buchanan had spread the spirit of learning amongst us, but we had lost it during the civil wars'. he did not allow the latin poetry of pitcairne so much merit as has been usually attributed to it; though he owned that one of his pieces, which he mentioned, but which i am sorry is not specified in my notes, was 'very well'. it is not improbable that it was the poem which prior has so elegantly translated. after supper, we made a procession to saint leonard's college, the landlord walking before us with a candle, and the waiter with a lantern. that college had some time before been dissolved; and dr watson, a professor here (the historian of phillip ii), had purchased the ground, and what buildings remained. when we entered his court, it seemed quite academical; and we found in his house very comfortable and genteel accommodation. [footnote: my journal, from this day inclusive, was read by dr johnson.] thursday, th august we rose much refreshed. i had with me a map of scotland, a bible, which was given me by lord mountstuart when we were together in italy, and ogden's sermons on prayer. mr nairne introduced us to dr watson, whom we found a well-informed man, of very amiable manners. dr johnson, after they were acquainted, said, 'i take great delight in him.' his daughter, a very pleasing young lady, made breakfast. dr watson observed, that glasgow university had fewer home-students, since trade increased, as learning was rather incompatible with it. johnson. 'why, sir, as trade is now carried on by subordinate hands, men in trade have as much leisure as others; and now learning itself is a trade. a man goes to a bookseller, and gets what he can. we have done with patronage. in the infancy of learning, we find some great man praised for it. this diffused it among others. when it becomes general, an author leaves the great, and applies to the multitude.' boswell. 'it is a shame that authors are not now better patronized.' johnson. 'no, sir. if learning cannot support a man, if he must sit with his hands across till somebody feeds him, it is as to him a bad thing, and it is better as it is. with patronage, what flattery! what falsehood! while a man is in equilibria, he throws truth among the multitude, and lets them take it as they please: in patronage, he must say what pleases his patron, and it is an equal chance whether that be truth or falsehood.' watson. 'but is not the case now, that, instead of flattering one person, we flatter the age?' johnson. 'no, sir. the world always lets a man tell what he thinks, his own way. i wonder however, that so many people have written, who might have let it alone. that people should endeavour to excel in conversation, i do not wonder; because in conversation praise is instantly reverberated.' we talked of change of manners. dr johnson observed, that our drinking less than our ancestors was owing to the change from ale to wine. 'i remember,' said he, 'when all the decent people in lichfield got drunk every night, and were not the worse thought of. ale was cheap, so you pressed strongly. when a man must bring a bottle of wine, he is not in such haste. smoking has gone out. to be sure, it is a shocking thing, blowing smoke out of our mouths into other people's mouths, eyes, and noses, and having the same thing done to us. yet i cannot account, why a thing which requires so little exertion, and yet preserves the mind from total vacuity, should have gone out. every man has something by which he calms himself: beating with his feet, or so. [footnote: dr johnson used to practice this himself very much.] i remember when people in england changed a shirt only once a week: a pandour, when he gets a shirt, greases it to make it last. formerly, good tradesmen had no fire but in the kitchen; never in the parlour, except on sunday. my father, who was a magistrate of lichfield, lived thus. they never began to have a fire in the parlour, but on leaving off business, or some great revolution of their life.' dr watson said, the hall was as a kitchen, in old squires' houses. johnson. 'no, sir. the hall was for great occasions, and never was used for domestick reflection.' we talked of the union, and what money it had brought into scotland. dr watson observed, that a little money formerly went as far as a great deal now. johnson. 'in speculation, it seems that a smaller quantity of money, equal in value to a larger quantity, if equally divided, should produce the same effect. but it is not so in reality. many more conveniences and elegancies are enjoyed where money is plentiful, than where it is scarce. perhaps a great familiarity with it, which arises from plenty, makes us more easily part with it.' after what dr johnson had said of st andrews, which he had long wished to see, as our oldest university, and the seat of our primate in the days of episcopacy, i can say little. since the publication of dr johnson's book, i find that he has been censured for not seeing here the ancient chapel of st rule, a curious piece of sacred architecture. but this was neither his fault nor mine. we were both of us abundantly desirous of surveying such sort of antiquities: but neither of us knew of this. i am afraid the censure must fall on those who did not tell us of it. in every place, where there is any thing worthy of observation, there should be a short printed directory for strangers, such as we find in all the towns of italy, and in some of the towns in england. i was told that there is a manuscript account of st andrews, by martin, secretary to archbishop sharp; and that one douglas has published a small account of it. i inquired at a bookseller's, but could not get it. dr johnson's veneration for the hierarchy is well known. there is no wonder then, that he was affected with a strong indignation, while he beheld the ruins of religious magnificence. i happened to ask where john knox was buried. dr johnson burst out, 'i hope in the high-way. i have been looking at his reformations.' it was a very fine day. dr johnson seemed quite wrapt up in the contemplation of the scenes which were now presented to him. he kept his hat off while he was upon any part of the ground where the cathedral had stood. he said well, that 'knox had set on a mob, without knowing where it would end; and that differing from a man in doctrine was no reason why you should pull his house about his ears'. as we walked in the cloisters, there was a solemn echo, while he talked loudly of a proper retirement from the world. mr nairne said, he had an inclination to retire. i called dr johnson's attention to this, that i might hear his opinion if it was right. johnson. 'yes, when he has done his duty to society. in general, as every man is obliged not only to "love god, but his neighbour as himself", he must bear his part in active life; yet there are exceptions. those who are exceedingly scrupulous (which i do not approve, for i am no friend to scruples), and find their scrupulosity invincible, so that they are quite in the dark, and know not what they shall do, or those who can not resist temptations, and find they make themselves worse by being in the world, without making it better, may retire. i never read of a hermit, but in imagination i kiss his feet; never of a monastery, but i could fall on my knees, and kiss the pavement. but i think putting young people there, who know nothing of life, nothing of retirement, is dangerous and wicked. it is a saying as old as hesiod, [words in greek] [footnote: let youth in deeds, in counsel man engage; prayer is the proper duty of old age. ] that is a very noble line: not that young men should not pray, or old men not give counsel, but that every season of life has its proper duties. i have thought of retiring, and have talked of it to a friend; but i find my vocation is rather to active life.' i said, some young monks might be allowed, to shew that it is not age alone that can retire to pious solitude; but he thought this would only shew that they could not resist temptation. he wanted to mount the steeples, but it could not be done. there are no good inscriptions here. bad roman characters he naturally mistook for half gothick, half roman. one of the steeples, which he was told was in danger, he wished not to be taken down; 'for,' said he, 'it may fall on some of the posterity of john knox; and no great matter!' dinner was mentioned. johnson. 'ay, ay; amidst all these sorrowful scenes, i have no objection to dinner.' we went and looked at the castle, where cardinal beaton was murdered, and then visited principal murison at his college, where is a good library-room; but the principal was abundantly vain of it, for he seriously said to dr johnson, 'you have not such a one in england'. the professors entertained us with a very good dinner. present: murison, shaw, cooke, hill, haddo, watson, flint, brown. i observed, that i wondered to see him eat so well, after viewing so many sorrowful scenes of ruined religious magnificence. 'why,' said he, 'i am not sorry, after seeing these gentlemen; for they are not sorry.' murison said, all sorrow was bad, as it was murmuring against the dispensations of providence. johnson. 'sir, sorrow is inherent in humanity. as you cannot judge two and two to be either five, or three, but certainly four, so, when comparing a worse present state with a better which is past, you cannot but feel sorrow. it is not cured by reason, but by the incursion of present objects, which wear out the past. you need not murmur, though you are sorry.' murison. 'but st paul says, "i have learnt, in whatever state i am, therewith to be content." 'johnson. 'sir, that relates to riches and poverty; for we see st paul, when he had a thorn in the flesh, prayed earnestly to have it removed; and then he could not be content.' murison, thus refuted, tried to be smart, and drank to dr johnson, 'long may you lecture!' dr johnson afterwards, speaking of his not drinking wine, said, 'the doctor spoke of lecturing' (looking to him). 'i give all these lectures on water.' he defended requiring subscription in those admitted to universities, thus: 'as all who come into the country must obey the king, so all who come into an university must be of the church.' and here i must do dr johnson the justice to contradict a very absurd and ill-natured story, as to what passed at st andrews. it has been circulated, that, after grace was said in english, in the usual manner, he with the greatest marks of contempt, as if he had held it to be no grace in an university, would not sit down till he had said grace aloud in latin. this would have been an insult indeed to the gentlemen who were entertaining us. but the truth was precisely thus. in the course of conversation at dinner, dr johnson, in very good humour, said, 'i should have expected to have heard a latin grace, among so many learned men: we had always a latin grace at oxford. i believe i can repeat it.' which he did, as giving the learned men in one place a specimen of what was done by the learned men in another place. we went and saw the church, in which is archbishop sharp's monument. i was struck with the same kind of feelings with which the churches of italy impressed me. i was much pleased, to see dr johnson actually in st andrews, of which we had talked so long. professor haddo was with us this afternoon, along with dr watson. we looked at st salvador's college. the rooms for students seemed very commodious, and dr johnson said, the chapel was the neatest place of worship he had seen. the key of the library could not be found; for it seems professor hill, who was out of town, had taken it with him. dr johnson told a joke he had heard of a monastery abroad, where the key of the library could never be found. it was somewhat dispiriting, to see this ancient archiepiscopal city now sadly deserted. we saw in one of its streets a remarkable proof of liberal toleration; a nonjuring clergyman, strutting about in his canonicals, with a jolly countenance and a round belly, like a well-fed monk. we observed two occupations united in the same person, who had hung out two sign-posts. upon one was, james hood, white iron smith (i.e. tin-plate worker). upon another, the art of fencing taught, by james hood. upon this last were painted some trees, and two men fencing, one of whom had hit the other in the eye, to shew his great dexterity; so that the art was well taught. johnson. 'were i studying here, i should go and take a lesson. i remember hope, in his book on this art, says, "the scotch are very good fencers".' we returned to the inn, where we had been entertained at dinner, and drank tea in company with some of the professors, of whose civilities i beg leave to add my humble and very grateful acknowledgement to the honourable testimony of dr johnson, in his journey. we talked of composition, which was a favourite topick of dr watson's, who first distinguished himself by lectures on rhetorick. johnson. 'i advised chambers, and would advise every young man beginning to compose, to do it as fast as he can, to get a habit of having his mind to start promptly; it is so much more difficult to improve in speed than in accuracy.' watson. 'i own i am for much attention to accuracy in composing, lest one should get bad habits of doing it in a slovenly manner.' johnson. 'why, sir, you are confounding doing inaccurately with the necessity of doing inaccurately. a man knows when his composition is inaccurate, and when he thinks fit he'll correct it. but, if a man is accustomed to compose slowly, and with difficulty, upon all occasions, there is danger that he may not compose at all, as we do not like to do that which is not done easily; and, at any rate, more time is consumed in a small matter than ought to be.' watson. 'dr hugh blair has taken a week to compose a sermon.' johnson. 'then, sir, that is for want of the habit of composing quickly, which i am insisting one should acquire.' watson. 'blair was not composing all the week, but only such hours as he found himself disposed for composition.' johnson. 'nay, sir, unless you tell me the time he took, you tell me nothing. if i say i took a week to walk a mile, and have had the gout five days, and been ill otherwise another day, i have taken but one day. i myself have composed about forty sermons. i have begun a sermon after dinner, and sent it off by the post that night. i wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the life of savage at a sitting; but then i sat up all night. i have also written six sheets in a day of translation from the french.' boswell. 'we have all observed how one man dresses himself slowly, and another fast.' johnson. 'yes, sir; it is wonderful how much time some people will consume in dressing; taking up a thing and looking at it, and laying it down, and taking it up again. every one should get the habit of doing it quickly. i would say to a young divine, "here is your text; let me see how soon you can make a sermon." then i'd say, "let me see how much better you can make it." thus i should see both his powers and his judgement.' we all went to dr watson's to supper. miss sharp, great grandchild of archbishop sharp, was there; as was mr craig, the ingenious architect of the new town of edinburgh, and nephew of thomson, to whom dr johnson has since done so much justice, in his lives of the poets. we talked of memory, and its various modes. johnson. 'memory will play strange tricks. one sometimes loses a single word. i once lost fugaces in the ode posthume, posthume. i mentioned to him, that a worthy gentleman of my acquaintance actually forgot his own name. johnson. 'sir. that was a morbid oblivion.' friday, oth august dr shaw, the professor of divinity, breakfasted with us. i took out my ogden on prayer, and read some of it to the company. dr johnson praised him. 'abernethy,' said he, 'allows only of a physical effect of prayer upon the mind, which may be produced many ways, as well as by prayer; for instance, by meditation. ogden goes farther. in truth, we have the consent of all nations for the efficacy of prayer, whether offered up by individuals, or by assemblies; and revelation has told us, it will be effectual.' i said, 'leechman seemed to incline to abernethy's doctrine.' dr watson observed, that leechman meant to shew, that, even admitting no effect to be produced by prayer, respecting the deity, it was useful to our own minds. he had given only a part of his system: dr johnson thought he should have given the whole. dr johnson enforced the strict observance of sunday. 'it should be different,' he observed, 'from another day. people may walk, but not throw stones at birds. there may be relaxation, but there should be no levity.' we went and saw colonel nairne's garden and grotto. here was a fine old plane tree. unluckily the colonel said, there was but this and another large tree in the county. this assertion was an excellent cue for dr johnson, who laughed enormously, calling to me to hear it. he had expatiated to me on the nakedness of that part of scotland which he had seen. his journey has been violently abused, for what he has said upon this subject. but let it be considered, that, when dr johnson talks of trees, he means trees of good size, such as he was accustomed to see in england; and of these there are certainly very few upon the eastern coast of scotland. besides, he said, that he meant to give only a map of the road; and let any traveller observe how many trees, which deserve the name, he can see from the road from berwick to aberdeen. had dr johnson said, 'there are no trees' upon this line, he would have said what is colloquially true; because, by no trees, in common speech, we mean few. when he is particular in counting, he may be attacked. i know not how colonel nairne came to say there were but two large trees in the county of fife. i did not perceive that he smiled. there are certainly not a great many; but i could have shewn him more than two at balmuto, from whence my ancestors came, and which now belongs to a branch of my family. the grotto was ingeniously constructed. in the front of it were petrified stocks of fir, plane, and some other tree. dr johnson said, 'scotland has no right to boast of this grotto: it is owing to personal merit. i never denied personal merit to many of you.' professor shaw said to me, as we walked, 'this is a wonderful man: he is master of every subject he handles.' dr watson allowed him a very strong understanding, but wondered at his total inattention to established manners, as he came from london. i have not preserved, in my journal, any of the conversation which passed between dr johnson and professor shaw; but i recollect dr johnson said to me afterwards, 'i took much to shaw.' we left st andrews about noon, and some miles from it observing, at leuchars, a church with an old tower, we stopped to look at it. the manse, as the parsonage-house is called in scotland, was close by. i waited on the minister, mentioned our names, and begged he would tell us what he knew about it. he was a very civil old man; but could only inform us, that it was supposed to have stood eight hundred years. he told us, there was a colony of danes in his parish; that they had landed at a remote period of time, and still remained a distinct people. dr johnson shrewdly inquired whether they had brought women with them. we were not satisfied as to this colony. we saw, this day, dundee and aberbrothick, the last of which dr johnson has celebrated in his journey. upon the road we talked of the roman catholick faith. he mentioned (i think) tillotson's argument against transubstantiation; 'that we are as sure we see bread and wine only, as that we read in the bible the text on which that false doctrine is founded. we have only the evidence of our senses for both. if,' he added, 'god had never spoken figuratively, we might hold that he speaks literally, when he says, "this is my body".' boswell. 'but what do you say, sir, to the ancient and continued tradition of the church upon this point?' johnson. 'tradition, sir, has no place, where the scriptures are plain; and tradition cannot persuade a man into a belief of transubstantiation. able men, indeed, have said they believed it.' this is an awful subject. i did not then press dr johnson upon it; nor shall i now enter upon a disquisition concerning the import of those words uttered by our saviour,[footnote: "then jesus said unto them, verily, verily. i say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you." see st john's gospel, chap. vi. , and following verses.] which had such an effect upon many disciples, that they 'went back, and walked no more with him'. the catechism and solemn office for communion, in the church of england, maintain a mysterious belief in more than a mere commemoration of the death of christ, by partaking of the elements of bread and wine. dr johnson put me in mind, that, at st andrews, i had defended my profession very well, when the question had again been started, whether a lawyer might honestly engage with the first side that offers him a fee. 'sir,' said i, 'it was with your arguments against sir william forbes: but it was much that i could wield the arms of goliah.' he said, our judges had not gone deep in the question concerning literary property. i mentioned lord monboddo's opinion, that if a man could get a work by heart, he might print it, as by such an act the mind is exercised. johnson. 'no, sir; a man's repeating it no more makes it his property, than a man may sell a cow which he drives home.' i said, printing an abridgement of a work was allowed, which was only cutting the horns and tail off the cow. johnson. 'no, sir; 'tis making the cow have a calf.' about eleven at night we arrived at montrose. we found but a sorry inn, where i myself saw another waiter put a lump of sugar with his fingers into dr johnson's lemonade, for which he called him 'rascal!' it put me in great glee that our landlord was an englishman. i rallied the doctor upon this, and he grew quiet. both sir john hawkins's and dr burney's history of musick had then been advertised. i asked if this was not unlucky: would not they hurt one another? johnson. 'no, sir. they will do good to one another. some will buy the one, some the other, and compare them; and so a talk is made about a thing, and the books are sold.' he was angry at me for proposing to carry lemons with us to sky, that he might be sure to have his lemonade. 'sir,' said he, 'i do not wish to be thought that feeble man who cannot do without any thing. sir, it is very bad manners to carry provisions to any man's house, as if he could not entertain you. to an inferior, it is oppressive; to a superior, it is insolent.' having taken the liberty, this evening, to remark to dr johnson, that he very often sat quite silent for a long time, even when in company with only a single friend, which i myself had sometimes sadly experienced, he smiled and said, 'it is true, sir. tom tyers' (for so he familiarly called our ingenious friend, who, since his death, has paid a biographical tribute to his memory) 'tom tyers described me the best. he once said to me, "sir, you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken to" [footnote: this description of dr johnson, appears to have been borrowed from tom jones, book xi. chap, ii. "the other, who like a ghost, only wanted to be spoke to, readily answered.' &c. saturday, st august neither the rev. mr nisbet, the established minister, nor the rev. mr spooner, the episcopal minister, were in town. before breakfast, we went and saw the town-hall, where is a good dancing-room, and other rooms for tea-drinking. the appearance of the town from it is very well; but many of the houses are built with their ends to the street, which looks awkward. when we came down from it, i met mr gleg, a merchant here. he went with us to see the english chapel. it is situated on a pretty dry spot, and there is a fine walk to it. it is really an elegant building, both within and without. the organ is adorned with green and gold. dr johnson gave a shilling extraordinary to the clerk, saying, 'he belongs to an honest church.' i put him in mind, that episcopals were but dissenters here; they were only tolerated. 'sir,' said he, 'we are here, as christians in turkey.' he afterwards went into an apothecary's shop, and ordered some medicine for himself, and wrote the prescription in technical characters. the boy took him for a physician. i doubted much which road to take, whether to go by the coast, or by lawrence kirk and monboddo. i knew lord monboddo and dr johnson did not love each other: yet i was unwilling not to visit his lordship; and was also curious to see them together. [footnote: there were several points of similarity between them: learning, clearness of head, precision of speech, and a love of research on many subjects which people in general do not investigate. foote paid lord monboddo the compliment of saying, that he was 'an elzevir edition of johnson'. it has been shrewdly observed that foote must have meant a diminutive, or pocket edition.] i mentioned my doubts to dr johnson, who said, he would go two miles out of his way to see lord monboddo. i therefore sent joseph forward, with the following note. montrose, august. my dear lord, thus far i am come with mr samuel johnson. we must be at aberdeen to-night. i know you do not admire him so much as i do; but i cannot be in this country without making you a bow at your old place, as i do not know if i may again have an opportunity of seeing monboddo. besides, mr johnson says, he would go two miles out of his way to see lord monboddo. i have sent forward my servant, that we may know if your lordship be at home. i am ever, my dear lord, most sincerely yours, james boswell. as we travelled onwards from montrose, we had the grampion hills in our view, and some good land around us, but void of trees and hedges. dr johnson has said ludicrously, in his journey, that the hedges were of stone; for, instead of the verdant thorn to refresh the eye, we found the bare wall or dike intersecting the prospect. he observed, that it was wonderful to see a country so divested, so denuded of trees. we stopped at lawrence kirk, where our great grammarian, ruddiman, was once schoolmaster. we respectfully remembered that excellent man and eminent scholar, by whose labours a knowledge of the latin language will be preserved in scotland, if it shall be preserved at all. lord gardenston, one of our judges, collected money to raise a monument to him at this place, which i hope will be well executed. i know my father gave five guineas towards it. lord gardenston is the proprietor of lawrence kirk, and has encouraged the building of a manufacturing village, of which he is exceedingly fond, and has written a pamphlet upon it, as if he had founded thebes, in which, however there are many useful precepts strongly expressed. the village seemed to be irregularly built, some of the houses being of clay, some of brick, and some of brick and stone. dr johnson observed, they thatched well here. i was a little acquainted with mr forbes, the minister of the parish. i sent to inform him that a gentleman desired to see him. he returned for answer, 'that he would not come to a stranger'. i then gave my name, and he came. i remonstrated to him for not coming to a stranger; and, by presenting him to dr johnson, proved to him what a stranger might sometimes be. his bible inculcates 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers', and mentions the same motive. he defended himself by saying, he had once come to a stranger who sent for him; and he found him 'a little worth person!' dr johnson insisted on stopping at the inn, as i told him that lord gardenston had furnished it with a collection of books, that travellers might have entertainment for the mind, as well as the body. he praised the design, but wished there had been more books, and those better chosen. about a mile from monboddo, where you turn off the road, joseph was waiting to tell us my lord expected us to dinner. we drove over a wild moor. it rained, and the scene was somewhat dreary. dr johnson repeated, with solemn emphasis, macbeth's speech on meeting the witches. as we travelled on, he told me, 'sir, you got into our club by doing what a man can do. [footnote: this, i find, is considered as obscure. i suppose dr johnson meant, that i assiduously and earnestly recommended myself to some of the members, as in a canvass for an election into parliament.] several of the members wished to keep you out. burke told me, he doubted if you were fit for it: but, now you are in, none of them are sorry. burke says, that you have so much good humour naturally, it is scarce a virtue.' boswell. 'they were afraid of you, sir, as it was you who proposed me.' johnson. 'sir, they knew, that if they refused you, they'd probably never have got in another. i'd have kept them all out. beauclerk was very earnest for you.' boswell. 'beauclerk has a keenness of mind which is very uncommon.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and every thing comes from him so easily. it appears to me that i labour, when i say a good thing.' boswell. 'you are loud, sir; but it is not an effort of mind.' monboddo is a wretched place, wild and naked, with a poor old house; though, if i recollect right, there are two turrets which mark an old baron's residence. lord monboddo received us at his gate most courteously; pointed to the douglas arms upon his house, and told us that his great-grandmother was of that family, 'in such houses,' said he, 'our ancestors lived, who were better men than we.' 'no, no, my lord,' said dr johnson. 'we are as strong as they, and a great deal wiser.' this was an assault upon one of lord monboddo's capital dogmas, and i was afraid there would have been a violent altercation in the very close, before we got into the house. but his lordship is distinguished not only for 'ancient metaphysicks', but for ancient politesse, la vieille cour, and he made no reply. his lordship was drest in a rustick suit, and wore a little round hat; he told us, we now saw him as farmer burnett, and we should have his family dinner, a farmer's dinner. he said, 'i should not have forgiven mr boswell, had he not brought you here, dr johnson.' he produced a very long stalk of corn, as a specimen of his crop, and said, 'you see here the loetas segetes.' he added, that virgil seemed to be as enthusiastick a farmer as he, and was certainly a practical one. johnson. 'it does not always follow, my lord, that a man who has written a good poem on an art, has practised it. philip miller told me, that in philips's "cyder", a poem, all the precepts were just, and indeed better than in books written for the purpose of instructing; yet philips had never made cyder.' i started the subject of emigration. johnson. 'to a man of mere animal life, you can urge no argument against going to america, but that it will be some time before he will get the earth to produce. but a man of any intellectual enjoyment will not easily go and immerse himself and his posterity for ages in barbarism.' he and my lord spoke highly of homer. johnson. 'he had all the learning of his age. the shield of achilles shews a nation in war, a nation in peace; harvest sport, nay stealing.' [footnote: my note of this is much too short. brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio. yet as i have resolved that the very journal which dr johnson read, shall be presented to the publick, i will not expand the text in any considerable degree, though i may occasionally supply a word to complete the sense, as i fill up the blanks of abbreviation in the writing; neither of which can be said to change the genuine journal. one of the best criticks of our age conjectures that the imperfect passage above has probably been as follows: 'in his book we have an accurate display of a nation in war, and a nation in peace; the peasant is delineated as truly as the general; nay, even harvest-sport, and the modes of ancient theft are described.'] monboddo. 'ay, and what we' (looking to me)?'would call a parliament-house scene; a cause pleaded.' johnson. 'that is part of the life of a nation in peace. and there are in homer such characters of heroes, and combinations of qualities of heroes, that the united powers of mankind ever since have not produced any but what are to be found there.' monboddo. 'yet no character is described.' johnson. 'no; they all develope themselves. agamemnon is always a gentleman-like character; he has always <greek>. that the ancients held so, is plain from this; that euripides, in his hecuba, makes him the person to interpose.' [footnote: dr johnson modestly said, he had not read homer so much as he wished he had done. but this conversation shews how well he was acquainted with the moeonian bard; and he has shewn it still more in his criticism upon pope's homer, in his life of that poet. my excellent friend, mr langton, told me, he was once present at a dispute between dr johnson and mr burke, on the comparative merits of homer and virgil, which was carried on with extraordinary abilities on both sides. dr johnson maintained the superiority of homer.] monboddo. 'the history of manners is the most valuable. i never set a high value on any other history.' johnson. 'nor i; and therefore i esteem biography, as giving us what comes near to ourselves, what we can turn to use.' boswell. 'but in the course of general history, we find manners. in wars, we see the dispositions of people, their degrees of humanity, and other particulars.' johnson. 'yes; but then you must take all the facts to get this; and it is but a little you get.' monboddo. 'and it is that little which makes history valuable.' bravo! thought i; they agree like two brothers. monboddo. 'i am sorry, dr johnson, you were not longer at edinburgh, to receive the homage of our men of learning.' johnson. 'my lord, i received great respect and great kindness.' boswell. 'he goes back to edinburgh after our tour.' we talked of the decrease of learning in scotland, and the muses' welcome. johnson. 'learning is much decreased in england, in my remembrance.' monboddo. 'you, sir, have lived to see its decrease in england, i its extinction in scotland.' however, i brought him to confess that the high school of edinburgh did well. johnson. 'learning has decreased in england, because learning will not do so much for a man as formerly. there are other ways of getting preferment. few bishops are now made for their learning. to be a bishop, a man must be learned in a learned age, factious in a factious age; but always of eminence. warburton is an exception; though his learning alone did not raise him. he was first an antagonist to pope, and helped theobald to publish his shakspeare; but, seeing pope the rising man, when crousaz attacked his essay on man, for some faults which it has, and some which it has not, warburton defended it in the review of that time. this brought him acquainted with pope, and he gained his friendship. pope introduced him to allen, allen married him to his niece: so, by allen's interest and his own, he was made a bishop. but then his learning was the sine qua non: he knew how to make the most of it; but i do not find by any dishonest means.' monboddo. 'he is a great man.' johnson. 'yes; he has great knowledge, great power of mind. hardly any man brings greater variety of learning to bear upon his point.' monboddo. 'he is one of the greatest lights of your church.' johnson. 'why, we are not so sure of his being very friendly to us. he blazes, if you will, but that is not always the steadiest light. lowth is another bishop who has risen by his learning.' dr johnson examined young arthur, lord monboddo's son, in latin. he answered very well; upon which he said, with complacency, 'get you gone! when king james comes back, [footnote: i find, some doubt has been entertained concerning dr johnson's meaning here. it is to be supposed that he meant, 'when a king shall again be entertained in scotland'.] you shall be in the "muses' welcome"!' my lord and dr johnson disputed a little, whether the savage or the london shopkeeper had the best existence; his lordship, as usual, preferring the savage. my lord was extremely hospitable, and i saw both dr johnson and him liking each other better every hour. dr johnson having retired for a short time, his lordship spoke of his conversation as i could have wished. dr johnson had said, 'i have done greater feats with my knife than this;' though he had eaten a very hearty dinner. my lord, who affects or believes he follows an abstemious system, seemed struck with dr johnson's manner of living. i had a particular satisfaction in being under the roof of monboddo, my lord being my father's old friend, and having been always very good to me. we were cordial together. he asked dr johnson and me to stay all night. when i said we must be at aberdeen, he replied, 'well, i am like the romans: i shall say to you, "happy to come--happy to depart!"' he thanked dr johnson for his visit. johnson. 'i little thought, when i had the honour to meet your lordship in london, that i should see you at monboddo.' after dinner, as the ladies were going away, dr johnson would stand up. he insisted that politeness was of great consequence in society. 'it is,' said he, 'fictitious benevolence. it supplies the place of it amongst those who see each other only in publick, or but little. depend upon it, the want of it never fails to produce something disagreeable to one or other. i have always applied to good breeding, what addison in his cato says of honour: honour's a sacred tie; the law of kings; the noble mind's distinguishing perfection, that aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her. and imitates her actions where she is not. when he took up his large oak stick, he said, 'my lord, that's homerick;' thus pleasantly alluding to his lordship's favourite writer. gory, my lord's black servant, was sent as our guide, to conduct us to the high road. the circumstance of each of them having a black servant was another point of similarity between johnson and monboddo. i observed how curious it was to see an african in the north of scotland, with little or no difference of manners from those of the natives. dr johnson laughed to see gory and joseph riding together most cordially. 'those two fellows,' said he, 'one from africa, the other from bohemia, seem quite at home.' he was much pleased with lord monboddo to-day. he said, he would have pardoned him for a few paradoxes, when he found he had so much that was good: but that, from his appearance in london, he thought him all paradox; which would not do. he observed, that his lordship had talked no paradoxes to-day. 'and as to the savage and the london shopkeeper," said he, 'i don't know but i might have taken the side of the savage equally, had any body else taken the side of the shopkeeper.' he had said to my lord, in opposition to the value of the savage's courage, that it was owing to his limited power of thinking, and repeated pope's verses, in which 'macedonia's madman' is introduced, and the conclusion is, yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose. i objected to the last phrase, as being low. johnson. 'sir, it is intended to be low: it is satire. the expression is debased, to debase the character.' when gory was about to part from us, dr johnson called to him, 'mr gory, give me leave to ask you a question! are you baptized?' gory told him he was, and confirmed by the bishop of durham. he then gave him a shilling. we had tedious driving this afternoon, and were somewhat drowsy. last night i was afraid dr johnson was beginning to faint in his resolution; for he said, 'if we must ride much, we shall not go; and there's an end on't.' to-day, when he talked of sky with spirit, i said, 'why, sir, you seemed to me to despond yesterday. you are a delicate londoner; you are a maccaroni; you can't ride.' johnson. 'sir, i shall ride better than you. i was only afraid i should not find a horse able to carry me.' i hoped then there would be no fear of getting through our wild tour. we came to aberdeen at half an hour past eleven. the new inn, we were told, was full. this was comfortless. the waiter, however, asked if one of our names was boswell, and brought me a letter left at the inn: it was from mr thrale, enclosing one to dr johnson. finding who i was, we were told they would contrive to lodge us by putting us for a night into a room with two beds. the waiter said to me in the broad strong aberdeenshire dialect, 'i thought i knew you, by your likeness to your father.' my father puts up at the new inn, when on his circuit. little was said to-night. i was to sleep in a little press-bed in dr johnson's room. i had it wheeled out into the dining-room, and there i lay very well. sunday, d august i sent a message to professor thomas gordon, who came and breakfasted with us. he had secured seats for us at the english chapel. we found a respectable congregation, and an admirable organ, well played by mr tait. we walked down to the shore. dr johnson laughed to hear that cromwell's soldiers taught the aberdeen people to make shoes and stockings, and to plant cabbages. he asked, if weaving the plaids was ever a domestick art in the highlands, like spinning or knitting. they could not inform him here. but he conjectured probably, that where people lived so remote from each other, it was likely to be a domestick art; as we see it was among the ancients, from penelope. i was sensible to-day, to an extraordinary degree, of dr johnson's excellent english pronunciation. i cannot account for its striking me more now than any other day: but it was as if new to me; and i listened to every sentence which he spoke, as to a musical composition. professor gordon gave him an account of the plan of education in his college. dr johnson said, it was similar to that at oxford. waller the poet's great grandson was studying here. dr johnson wondered that a man should send his son so far off, when there were so many good schools in england. he said, 'at a great school there is all the splendour and illumination of many minds; the radiance of all is concentrated in each, or at least reflected upon each. but we must own that neither a dull boy, nor an idle boy, will do so well at a great school as at a private one. for at a great school there are always boys enough to do well easily, who are sufficient to keep up the credit of the school; and after whipping being tried to no purpose, the dull or idle boys are left at the end of a class, having the appearance of going through the course, but learning nothing at all. such boys may do good at a private school, where constant attention is paid to them, and they are watched. so that the question of publick or private education is not properly a general one; but whether one or the other is best for my son.' we were told the present mr waller was a plain country gentleman; and his son would be such another. i observed, a family could not expect a poet but in a hundred generations. 'nay,' said dr johnson, 'not one family in a hundred can expect a poet in a hundred generations.' he then repeated dryden's celebrated lines, three poets in three distant ages born, &c. and a part of a latin translation of it done at oxford: he did not then say by whom.[footnote: london, d may, . dr johnson acknowledged that he was himself the authour of the translation above alluded to, and dictated it to me as follows: quos laudet vales graius romanus et anglus tres tria temporibus secla dedere suis. sublime ingenium graius; romanus habebat carmen grande sonans; anglus utrumque tulit. nil majus natura capit: clarare priores quae potuere duos tertius unus habet.] he received a card, from sir alexander gordon, who had been his acquaintance twenty years ago in london, and who, 'if forgiven for not answering a line from him', would come in the afternoon. dr johnson rejoiced to hear of him, and begged he would come and dine with us. i was much pleased to see the kindness with which dr johnson received his old friend sir alexander; a gentleman of good family, lismore, but who had not the estate. the king's college here made him professor of medicine, which affords him a decent subsistence. he told us that the value of the stockings exported from aberdeen was, in peace, a hundred thousand pounds; and amounted, in time of war, to one hundred and seventy thousand pounds. dr johnson asked, what made the difference? here we had a proof of the comparative sagacity of the two professors. sir alexander answered, 'because there is more occasion for them in war.' professor thomas gordon answered, 'because the germans, who are our great rivals in the manufacture of stockings, are otherwise employed in time of war.' johnson. 'sir, you have given a very good solution.' at dinner, dr johnson ate several plate-fulls of scotch broth, with barley and peas in it, and seemed very fond of the dish. i said, 'you never ate it before.' johnson. 'no, sir; but i don't care how soon i eat it again.' my cousin, miss dallas, formerly of inverness, was married to mr riddoch, one of the ministers of the english chapel here. he was ill, and confined to his room; but she sent us a kind invitation to tea, which we all accepted. she was the same lively, sensible, cheerful woman, as ever. dr johnson here threw out some jokes against scotland. he said, 'you go first to aberdeen; then to enbru (the scottish pronunciation of edinburgh); then to newcastle, to be polished by the colliers; then to york; then to london.' and he laid hold of a little girl, stuart dallas, niece to mrs riddoch, and, representing himself as a giant, said, he would take her with him! telling her, in a hollow voice, that he lived in a cave, and had a bed in the rock, and she should have a bed cut opposite to it! he thus treated the point, as to prescription of murder in scotland. 'a jury in england would make allowance for deficiencies of evidence, on account of lapse of time: but a general rule that a crime should not be punished, or tried for the purpose of punishment, after twenty years, is bad. it is cant to talk of the king's advocate delaying a prosecution from malice. how unlikely is it the king's advocate should have malice against persons who commit murder, or should even know them at all. if the son of the murdered man should kill the murderer who got off merely by prescription, i would help him to make his escape; though, were i upon his jury, i would not acquit him. i would not advise him to commit such an act. on the contrary, i would bid him submit to the determination of society, because a man is bound to submit to the inconveniences of it, as he enjoys the good: but the young man, though politically wrong, would not be morally wrong. he would have to say, "here i am amongst barbarians, who not only refuse to do justice, but encourage the greatest of all crimes. i am therefore in a state of nature: for, so far as there is now law, it is a state of nature: and consequently, upon the eternal and immutable law of justice, which requires that he who sheds man's blood should have his blood shed, i will stab the murderer of my father."' we went to our inn, and sat quietly. dr johnson borrowed, at mr riddoch's, a volume of massilon's discourses on the psalms: but i found he read little in it. ogden too he sometimes took up, and glanced at; but threw it down again. i then entered upon religious conversation. never did i see him in a better frame: calm, gentle, wise, holy. i said, 'would not the same objection hold against the trinity as against transubstantiation?' 'yes,' said he, 'if you take three and one in the same sense. if you do, to be sure you cannot believe it: but the three persons in the godhead are three in one sense, and one in another. we cannot tell how; and that is the mystery!' i spoke of the satisfaction of christ. he said his notion was, that it did not atone for the sins of the world; but, by satisfying divine justice, by shewing that no less than the son of god suffered for sin, it shewed to men and innumerable created beings, the heinousness of it, and therefore rendered it unnecessary for divine vengeance to be exercised against sinners, as it otherwise must have been; that in this way it might operate even in favour of those who had never heard of it: as to those who did hear of it, the effect it should produce would be repentance and piety, by impressing upon the mind a just notion of sin: that original sin was the propensity to evil, which no doubt was occasioned by the fall. he presented this solemn subject in a new light to me, [footnote: my worthy, intelligent, and candid friend, dr kippis, informs me, that several divines have thus explained the mediation of our saviour. what dr johnson now delivered, was but a temporary opinion; for he afterwards was fully convinced of the propitiatory sacrifice, as i shall shew at large in my future work, the life of samuel johnson, ll.d.] and rendered much more rational and clear the doctrine of what our saviour has done for us, as it removed the notion of imputed righteousness in co-operating; whereas by this view, christ has done all already that he had to do, or is ever to do, for mankind, by making his great satisfaction; the consequences of which will affect each individual according to the particular conduct of each. i would illustrate this by saying, that christ's satisfaction resembles a sun placed to shew light to men, so that it depends upon themselves whether they will walk the right way or not, which they could not have done without that sun, 'the sun of righteousness'. there is, however, more in it than merely giving light--'a light to lighten the gentiles': for we are told, there is 'healing under his wings'. dr johnson said to me, 'richard baxter commends a treatise by grotius, de satisfactione christi. i have never read it: but i intend to read it; and you may read it.' i remarked, upon the principle now laid down, we might explain the difficult and seemingly hard text, 'they that believe shall be saved; and they that believe not shall be damned.' they that believe shall have such an impression made upon their minds, as will make them act so that they may be accepted by god. we talked of one of our friends taking ill, for a length of time, a hasty expression of dr johnson's to him, on his attempting to prosecute a subject that had a reference to religion, beyond the bounds within which the doctor thought such topicks should be confined in a mixed company. johnson. 'what is to become of society, if a friendship of twenty years is to be broken off for such a cause?' as bacon says, who then to frail mortality shall trust, but limns the water, or but writes in dust. i said, he should write expressly in support of christianity; for that, although a reverence for it shines through his works in several places, that is not enough. 'you know,' said i, 'what grotius has done, and what addison has done. you should do also.' he replied, 'i hope i shall.' monday, d august principal campbell, sir alexander gordon, professor gordon, and professor ross, visited us in the morning, as did dr gerard, who had come six miles from the country on purpose. we went and saw the marischal college, [footnote: dr beattie was so kindly entertained in england, that he had not yet returned home.] and at one o'clock we waited on the magistrates in the town hall, as they had invited us in order to present dr johnson with the freedom of the town, which provost jopp did with a very good grace. dr johnson was much pleased with this mark of attention, and received it very politely. there was a pretty numerous company assembled. it was striking to hear all of them drinking?'dr johnson! dr johnson!' in the town-hall of aberdeen, and then to see him with his burgess-ticket, or diploma, [footnote: dr johnson's burgess-ticket was in these words: aberdoniae, vigesimo tertio die mensis augusti, anno domini millesimo septingentesimo septuagesimo tertio, in presentia honorabilium virorum, jacobi jopp, armigeri, praepositi, adami duff, gulielmi young, georgii marr, et gulielmi forbes, balivorum, gulielmi rainie decani guildae, et joannis nicoll thesaurarii dicti burgi. quo die vir generosus et doctrina clarus, samuel johnson, ll. d. receptus et admissus fuit in municipes et fratres guildae praefati burgi de aberdeen. in deditissimi amoris et affectus ac eximiae observantiae tesseram, quibus dicti magistratus eum amplectuntur. extractum per me, alex. carnegie.] in his hat, which he wore as he walked along the street, according to the usual custom. it gave me great satisfaction to observe the regard, and indeed fondness too, which every body here had for my father. while sir alexander gordon conducted dr johnson to old aberdeen, professor gordon and i called on mr riddoch, whom i found to be a grave worthy clergyman. he observed, that, whatever might be said of dr johnson while he was alive, he would, after he was dead, be looked upon by the world with regard and astonishment, on account of his dictionary. professor gordon and i walked over to the old college, which dr johnson had seen by this time. i stepped into the chapel, and looked at the tomb of the founder, archbishop elphinston, of whom i shall have occasion to write in my history of james iv of scotland, the patron of my family. we dined at sir alexander gordon's. the provost, professor ross, professor dunbar, professor thomas gordon, were there. after dinner came in dr gerard, professor leslie, professor macleod. we had little or no conversation in the morning; now we were but barren. the professors seemed afraid to speak. dr gerard told us that an eminent printer was very intimate with warburton. johnson. 'why, sir, he has printed some of his works, and perhaps bought the property of some of them. the intimacy is such as one of the professors here may have with one of the carpenters who is repairing the college.' 'but,' said gerard, 'i saw a letter from him to this printer, in which he says, that the one half of the clergy of the church of scotland are fanaticks, and the other half infidels.' johnson. 'warburton has accustomed himself to write letters just as he speaks, without thinking any more of what he throws out. when i read warburton first, and observed his force, and his contempt of mankind, i thought he had driven the world before him; but i soon found that was not the case; for warburton, by extending his abuse, rendered it ineffectual.' he told me, when we were by ourselves, that he thought it very wrong in the printer, to shew warburton's letter, as it was raising a body of enemies against him. he thought it foolish in warburton to write so to the printer; and added, 'sir, the worst way of being intimate, is by scribbling.' he called warburton's doctrine of grace a poor performance, and so he said was wesley's answer. 'warburton,' he observed, 'had laid himself very open. in particular, he was weak enough to say, that, in some disorders of the imagination, people had spoken with tongues, had spoken languages which they never knew before; a thing as absurd as to say, that, in some disorders of the imagination, people had been known to fly.' i talked of the difference of genius, to try if i could engage gerard in a disquisition with dr johnson; but i did not succeed. i mentioned, as a curious fact, that locke had written verses. johnson. 'i know of none, sir, but a kind of exercise prefixed to dr sydenham's works, in which he has some conceits about the dropsy, in which water and burning are united; and how dr sydenham removed fire by drawing off water, contrary to the usual practice, which is to extinguish fire by bringing water upon it. i am not sure that there is a word of all this; but it is such kind of talk.' [footnote: all this, as dr johnson suspected at the time, was the immediate invention of his own lively imagination; for there is not one word of it in mr locke's complimentary performance. my readers will, i have no doubt, like to be satisfied, by comparing them: and, at any rate, it may entertain them to read verses composed by our great metaphysician, when a bachelor in physick. auctori, in tractatum ejus de febribus. febriles aestus, victumque ardoribus orbem flevit, non tantis par medicina malis. et post mille artes, medicae tentamina curae, ardet adhuc febris; nec velit arte regi. praeda sumus flammis; solum hoc speramus ab igne, ut restet paucus, quem capit urna, cinis. dum quaerit medicus febris caussamque, modumque, flammarum et tenebras, et sine luce faces; quas tractat patitur flammas, et febre calescens, corruit ipse suis victima rapta focis. qui tardos potuit morbos, artusque trementes, sistere, febrili se videt igne rapi. sic faber exesos fulsit tibicine muros; dum trahit antiquas lenta ruina domos. sed si flamma vorax miseras incenderit aedes, unica flagrantes tunc sepelire salus. fit fuga, tectonicas nemo tunc invocat artes; cum perit artificis non minus usta domus. se tandem sydenham febrisque scholaeque furori] we spoke of fingal. dr johnson said calmly, 'if the poems were really translated, they were certainly first written down. let mr macpherson deposite the manuscript in one of the colleges at aberdeen, where there are people who can judge; and, if the professors certify the authenticity, then there will be an end of the controversy. if he does not take this obvious and easy method, he gives the best reason to doubt; considering too, how much is against it a priori.' we sauntered after dinner in sir alexander's garden, and saw his little grotto, which is hung with pieces of poetry written in a fair hand. it was [footnote: opponens, morbi quaerit, et artis opem. non temere incusat tectae putedinis ignes; nec fictus, febres qui fovet, humor erit, non bilem ille movet, nulla hic pituita; salutis quae spes, si fallax ardeat intus aqua nec doctas magno rixas ostentat hiatu, quis ipsis major febribus ardor inest. innocuas placide corpus jubet urere flammas, et justo rapidos temperat igne focos. quid febrim exstinguat; varius quid postulat usus, solari aegrotos, qua potes arte, docet. hactenus ipsa suum timuit natura calorem, dum saepe incerto, quo calet, igne perit: dum reparat tacitos male provida sanguinis ignes, praelusit busto, fit calor iste rogus. jam secura suas foveant praecordia flammas, quem natura negat, dat medicina modum. nec solum faciles compescit sanguinis aestus, dum dubia est inter spemque metumque salus; sed fatale malum domuit, quodque astra malignum credimus, iratam vel genuisse stygem. extorsit lachesi cultros, pestique venenum abstulit, et tantos non sinit esse metus. quis tandem arte nova domitam mitescere pestem credat, et antiquas ponere posse minas post tot mille neces, cumulataque funera busto, victa jacet, parvo vulnere, dira lues. aetheriae quanquam spargunt contagia flammae, quicquid inest istis ignibus, ignis erit. delapsae coelo flammae licet acrius urant, has gelida exstingui non nisi morte putas tu meliora paras victrix medicina; tuusque, pestis qua superat cuncta, triumphus eris. vive liber, victis febrilibus ignibus; unus te simul et mundum qui manet, ignis erit. j. lock, a. m. ex. aede christi, oxon.] agreeable to observe the contentment and kindness of this quiet, benevolent man. professor macleod was brother to macleod of talisker, and brother-in-law to the laird of col. he gave me a letter to young col. i was weary of this day, and began to think wishfully of being again in motion. i was uneasy to think myself too fastidious, whilst i fancied dr johnson quite satisfied. but he owned to me that he was fatigued and teased by sir alexander's doing too much to entertain him. i said, it was all kindness. johnson. 'true, sir: but sensation is sensation.' boswell. 'it is so: we feel pain equally from the surgeon's probe, as from the sword of the foe.' we visited two booksellers' shops, and could not find arthur johnston's poems. we went and sat near an hour at mr riddoch's. he could not tell distinctly how much education at the college here costs, which disgusted dr johnson. i had pledged myself that we should go to the inn, and not stay supper. they pressed us, but he was resolute. i saw mr riddoch did not please him. he said to me, afterwards, 'sir, he has no vigour in his talk.' but my friend should have considered that he himself was not in good humour; so that it was not easy to talk to his satisfaction. we sat contentedly at our inn. he then became merry, and observed how little we had either heard or said at aberdeen: that the aberdonians had not started a single mawkin (the scottish word for hare) for us to pursue. tuesday, th august we set out about eight in the morning, and breakfasted at ellon. the landlady said to me, 'is not this the great doctor that is going about through the country?' i said, 'yes.' 'ay,' said she, 'we heard of him, i made an errand into the room on purpose to see him. there's something great in his appearance: it is a pleasure to have such a man in one's house; a man who does so much good. if i had thought of it, i would have shewn him a child of mine, who has had a lump on his throat for some time.' 'but,' said i, 'he is not a doctor of physick.' 'is he an oculist?' said the landlord. 'no,' said i, 'he is only a very learned man.' landlord. 'they say he is the greatest man in england, except lord mansfield.' dr johnson was highly entertained with this, and i do think he was pleased too. he said, 'i like the exception: to have called me the greatest man in england, would have been an unmeaning compliment: but the exception marked that the praise was in earnest; and, in scotland, the exception must be lord mansfield, or--sir john pringle.' he told me a good story of dr goldsmith. graham, who wrote telemachus, a masque, was sitting one night with him and dr johnson, and was half drunk. he rattled away to dr johnson: 'you are a clever fellow, to be sure; but you cannot write an essay like addison, or verses like the rape of the lock.' at last he said, [footnote: i am sure i have related this story exactly as dr johnson told it to me: but a friend who has often heard him tell it, informs me that he usually introduced a circumstance which ought not to be omitted. 'at last, sir, graham, having now got to about the pitch of looking at one man, and talking to another, said doctor &c. 'what effect.' dr johnson used to add, 'this had on goldsmith, who was as irascible as a hornet, may be easily conceived.'] 'doctor, i should be happy to see you at eaton.' 'i shall be glad to wait on you,' answered goldsmith. 'no,' said graham, ''tis not you i mean, dr minor; 'tis dr major, there.' goldsmith was excessively hurt by this. he afterwards spoke of it himself. 'graham,' said he, 'is a fellow to make one commit suicide.' we had received a polite invitation to slains castle. we arrived there just at three o'clock, as the bell for dinner was ringing. though, from its being just on the north-east ocean, no trees will grow here, lord errol has done all that can be done. he has cultivated his fields so as to bear rich crops of every kind, and he has made an excellent kitchen-garden, with a hot-house. i had never seen any of the family: but there had been a card of invitation written by the honourable charles boyd, the earl's brother. we were conducted into the house, and at the dining-room door were met by that gentleman, whom both of us at first took to be lord errol; but he soon corrected our mistake. my lord was gone to dine in the neighbourhood, at an entertainment given by mr irvine of drum. lady errol received us politely, and was very attentive to us during the time of dinner. there was nobody at table but her ladyship, mr boyd, and some of the children, their governour and governess. mr boyd put dr johnson in mind of having dined with him at cumming the quaker's, along with mr hall and miss williams: this was a bond of connection between them. for me, mr boyd's acquaintance with my father was enough. after dinner, lady errol favoured us with a sight of her young family, whom she made stand up in a row. there were six daughters and two sons. it was a very pleasing sight. dr johnson proposed our setting out. mr boyd said, he hoped we would stay all night; his brother would be at home in the evening, and would be very sorry if he missed us. mr boyd was called out of the room. i was very desirous to stay in so comfortable a house, and i wished to see lord errol. dr johnson, however, was right in resolving to go, if we were not asked again, as it is best to err on the safe side in such cases, and to be sure that one is quite welcome. to my great joy, when mr boyd returned, he told dr johnson that it was lady errol who had called him out, and said that she would never let dr johnson into the house again, if he went away that night; and that she had ordered the coach, to carry us to view a great curiosity on the coast, after which we should see the house. we cheerfully agreed. mr boyd was engaged, in - , on the same side with many unfortunate mistaken noblemen and gentlemen. he escaped, and lay concealed for a year in the island of arran, the ancient territory of the boyds. he then went to france, and was about twenty years on the continent. he married a french lady, and now lived very comfortably at aberdeen, and was much at slains castle. he entertained us with great civility. he had a pompousness or formal plenitude in his conversation which i did not dislike. dr johnson said, there was too much elaboration in his talk. it gave me pleasure to see him, a steady branch of the family, setting forth all its advantages with much zeal. he told us that lady errol was one of the most pious and sensible women in the island; had a good head, and as good a heart. he said, she did not use force or fear in educating her children. johnson. 'sir, she is wrong; i would rather have the rod to be the general terror to all, to make them learn, than tell a child, if you do thus or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. the rod produces an effect which terminates itself. a child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation, and comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make brothers and sisters hate each other.' during mr boyd's stay in arran, he had found a chest of medical books, left by a surgeon there, and had read them till he acquired some skill in physick, in consequence of which he is often consulted by the poor. there were several here waiting for him as patients. we walked round the house till stopped by a cut made by the influx of the sea. the house is built quite upon the shore; the windows look upon the main ocean, and the king of denmark is lord errol's nearest neighbour on the north-east. we got immediately into the coach, and drove to dunbui, a rock near the shore, quite covered with sea-fowls; then to a circular bason of large extent, surrounded with tremendous rocks. on the quarter next the sea, there is a high arch in the rock, which the force of the tempest has driven out. this place is called buchan's buller, or the buller of buchan, and the country people call it the pot. mr boyd said it was so called from the french bouloir. it may be more simply traced from boiler in our own language. we walked round this monstrous cauldron. in some places, the rock is very narrow; and on each side there is a sea deep enough for a man of war to ride in; so that it is somewhat horrid to move along. however, there is earth and grass upon the rock, and a kind of road marked out by the print of feet; so that one makes it out pretty safely: yet it alarmed me to see dr johnson striding irregularly along. he insisted on taking a boat, and sailing into the pot. we did so. he was stout, and wonderfully alert. the buchan-men all shewing their teeth, and speaking with that strange sharp accent which distinguishes them, was to me a matter of curiosity. he was not sensible of the difference of pronunciation in the south and north of scotland, which i wondered at. as the entry into the buller is so narrow that oars cannot be used as you go in, the method taken is to row very hard when you come near it, and give the boat such a rapidity of motion that it glides in. dr johnson observed what an effect this scene would have had, were we entering into an unknown place. there are caves of considerable depth; i think, one on each side. the boatmen had never entered either of them far enough to know the size. mr boyd told us that it is customary for the company at peterhead well, to make parties, and come and dine in one of the caves here. he told us, that, as slains is at a considerable distance from aberdeen, lord errol, who has a very large family, resolved to have a surgeon of his own. with this view he educated one of his tenant's sons, who is now settled in a very neat house and farm just by, which we saw from the road. by the salary which the earl allows him, and the practice which he has had, he is in very easy circumstances. he had kept an exact account of all that had been laid out on his education, and he came to his lordship one day, and told him that he had arrived at a much higher situation than ever he expected; that he was now able to repay what his lordship had advanced, and begged he would accept of it. the earl was pleased with the generous gratitude and genteel offer of the man; but refused it. mr boyd also told us, cumming the quaker first began to distinguish himself, by writing against dr leechman on prayer, to prove it unnecessary, as god knows best what should be, and will order it without our asking--the old hackneyed objection. when we returned to the house we found coffee and tea in the drawing-room. lady errol was not there, being, as i supposed, engaged with her young family. there is a bow-window fronting the sea. dr johnson repeated the ode, jam satis terris, while mr boyd was with his patients. he spoke well in favour of entails, to preserve lines of men whom mankind are accustomed to reverence. his opinion was that so much land should be entailed as that families should never fall into contempt, and as much left free as to give them all the advantages of property in case of any emergency. 'if,' said he, 'the nobility are suffered to sink into indigence, they of course become corrupt; they are ready to do whatever the king chooses; therefore it is fit they should be kept from becoming poor, unless it is fixed that when they fall below a certain standard of wealth they shall lose their peerages. we know the house of peers have made noble stands, when the house of commons durst not. the two last years of parliament they dare not contradict the populace.' this room is ornamented with a number of fine prints, and with a whole length picture of lord errol, by sir joshua reynolds. this led dr johnson and me to talk of our amiable and elegant friend, whose panegyrick he concluded by saying, 'sir joshua reynolds, sir, is the most invulnerable man i know; the man with whom if you should quarrel, you would find the most difficulty how to abuse.' dr johnson observed, the situation here was the noblest he had ever seen, better than mount edgecumbe, reckoned the first in england; because, at mount edgecumbe, the sea is bounded by land on the other side, and, though there is there the grandeur of a fleet, there is also the impression of there being a dock-yard, the circumstances of which are not agreeable. at slains is an excellent old house. the noble owner has built of brick, along the square in the inside, a gallery, both on the first and second story, the house being no higher; so that he has always a dry walk, and the rooms, to which formerly there was no approach but through each other, have now all separate entries from the gallery, which is hung with hogarth's works, and other prints. we went and sat a while in the library. there is a valuable numerous collection. it was chiefly made by mr falconer, husband to the late countess of errol in her own right. this earl has added a good many modern books. about nine the earl came home. captain gordon of park was with him. his lordship put dr johnson in mind of their having dined together in london, along with mr beauclerk. i was exceedingly pleased with lord errol. his dignified person and agreeable countenance, with the most unaffected affability, gave me high satisfaction. from perhaps a weakness, or, as i rather hope, more fancy and warmth of feeling than is quite reasonable, my mind is ever impressed with admiration for persons of high birth, and i could, with the most perfect honesty, expatiate on lord errol's good qualities; but he stands in no need of my praise. his agreeable manners and softness of address prevented that constraint which the idea of his being lord high constable of scotland might otherwise have occasioned. he talked very easily and sensibly with his learned guest. i observed that dr johnson, though he shewed that respect to his lordship, which, from principle, he always does to high rank, yet, when they came to argument, maintained that manliness which becomes the force and vigour of his understanding. to shew external deference to our superiors, is proper: to seem to yield to them in opinion, is meanness. [footnote: lord chesterfield, in his letters to his son, complains of one who argued in an indiscriminate manner with men of all ranks. probably the noble lord had felt with some uneasiness what it was to encounter stronger abilities than his own. if a peer will engage at foils with his inferior in station, he must expect that his inferior in station will avail himself of every advantage; otherwise it is not a fair trial of strength and skill. the same will hold in a contest of reason, or of wit. a certain king entered the lists of genius with voltaire. the consequence was, that, though the king had great and brilliant talents, voltaire had such a superiority that his majesty could not bear it; and the poet was dismissed, or escaped, from that court. in the reign of james i of england. crichton, lord sanquhar, a peer of scotland, from a vain ambition to excel a fencing-master in his own art, played at rapier and dagger with him. the fencing-master, whose fame and bread were at stake, put out one of his lordship's eyes. exasperated at this. lord sanquhar hired ruffians, and had the fencing-master assassinated; for which his lordship was capitally tried, condemned, and hanged. not being a peer of england, he was tried by the name of robert crichton, esq.; but he was admitted to be a baron of three hundred years standing. see the state trials; and the history of england by hume, who applauds the impartial justice executed upon a man of high rank.] the earl said grace, both before and after supper, with much decency. he told us a story of a man who was executed at perth, some years ago, for murdering a woman who was with child by him, and a former child he had by her. his hand was cut off: he was then pulled up; but the rope broke, and he was forced to lie an hour on the ground, till another rope was brought from perth, the execution being in a wood at some distance, at the place where the murders were committed. 'there,' said my lord, 'i see the hand of providence.' i was really happy here. i saw in this nobleman the best dispositions and best principles; and i saw him, in my mind's eye, to be the representative of the ancient boyds of kilmarnock. i was afraid he might have urged drinking, as, i believe, he used formerly to do, but he drank port and water out of a large glass himself, and let us do as we pleased. he went with us to our rooms at night; said, he took the visit very kindly; and told me, my father and he were very old acquaintances; that i now knew the way to slains, and he hoped to see me there again. i had a most elegant room; but there was a fire in it which blazed; and the sea, to which my windows looked, roared; and the pillows were made of the feathers of some sea-fowl, which had to me a disgreeable smell: so that, by all these causes, i was kept awake a good while. i saw, in imagination, lord errol's father, lord kilmarnock (who was beheaded on tower hill in ), and i was somewhat dreary. but the thought did not last long, and i fell asleep. wednesday, th august we got up between seven and eight, and found mr boyd in the dining-room, with tea and coffee before him, to give us breakfast. we were in an admirable humour. lady errol had given each of us a copy of an ode by beattie, on the birth of her son, lord hay. mr boyd asked dr johnson, how he liked it. dr johnson, who did not admire it, got off very well, by taking it out, and reading the second and third stanzes of it with much melody. this, without his saying a word, pleased mr boyd. he observed, however, to dr johnson, that the expression as to the family of errol, a thousand years have seen it shine compared with what went before, was an anticlimax, and that it would have been better ages have seen, etc. dr johnson said, 'so great a number as a thousand is better. dolus latet in universalibus. ages might be only two ages.' he talked of the advantage of keeping up the connections of relationship, which produce much kindness. 'every man,' said he, 'who comes into the world, has need of friends. if he has to get them for himself, half his life is spent, before his merit is known. relations are a man's ready friends who support him. when a man is in real distress, he flies into the arms of his relations. an old lawyer, who had much experience in making wills, told me, that after people had deliberated long, and thought of many for their executors, they settled at last by fixing on their relations. this shews the universality of the principle.' i regretted the decay of respect for men of family, and that a nabob now would carry an election from them. johnson. 'why, sir, the nabob will carry it by means of his wealth, in a country where money is highly valued, as it must be where nothing can be had without money; but, if it comes to personal preference, the man of family will always carry it. there is generally a scoundrelism about a low man.' mr boyd said, that was a good ism. i said, i believed mankind were happier in the ancient feudal state of subordination, than they are in the modern state of independency. johnson. to be sure, the chief was: but we must think of the number of individuals. that they were less happy, seems plain; for that state from which all escape as soon as they can, and to which none return after they have left it, must be less happy; and this is the case with the state of dependance on a chief or great man.' i mentioned the happiness of the french in their subordination, by the reciprocal benevolence and attachment between the great and those in lower rank. mr boyd gave us an instance of their gentlemanly spirit. an old chevalier de malthe, of ancient noblesse, but in low circumstances, was in a coffee-house at paris, where was julien, the great manufacturer at the gobelins, of the fine tapestry, so much distinguished both for the figures and the colours. the chevalier's carriage was very old. says julien, with a plebeian insolence, 'i think, sir, you had better have your carriage new painted.' the chevalier looked at him with indignant contempt, and answered, 'well, sir. you may take it home and dye it!' all the coffee-house rejoiced at julien's confusion. we set out about nine. dr johnson was curious to see one of those structures which northern antiquarians call a druid's temple. i had a recollection of one at strichen; which i had seen fifteen years ago: so we went four miles out of our road, after passing old deer, and went thither. mr fraser, the proprietor, was at home, and shewed it to us. but i had augmented it in my mind; for all that remains is two stones set up on end, with a long one laid upon them, as was usual and one stone at a little distance from them. that stone was the capital one of the circle which surrounded what now remains. mr fraser was very hospitable. [footnote: he is the worthy son of a worthy father, the late lord strichen, one of our judges, to whose kind notice i was much obliged. lord strichen was a man not only honest, but highly generous: for after his succession to the family estate, he paid a large sum of debts contracted by his predecessor, which he was not under any obligation to pay. let me here, for the credit of ayrshire, my own county, record a noble instance of liberal honesty in william hutchison, drover, in lanehead, kyle, who formerly obtained a full discharge from his creditors upon a composition of his debts: but upon being restored to good circumstances, invited his creditors last winter to a dinner, without telling the reason, and paid them their full sums, principal and interest. they presented him with a piece of plate, with an inscription to commemorate this extraordinary instance of true worth; which should make some people in scotland blush, while, though mean themselves, they strut about under the protection of great alliance conscious of the wretchedness of numbers who have lost by them, to whom they never think of making reparation, but indulge themselves and their families in most unsuitable expence.] there was a fair at strichen; and he had several of his neighbours from it at dinner. one of them, dr fraser, who had been in the army, remembered to have seen dr johnson at a lecture on experimental philosophy, at lichfield. the doctor recollected being at the lecture; and he was surprised to find here somebody who knew him. mr fraser sent a servant to conduct us by a short passage into the high-road. i observed to dr johnson, that i had a most disagreeable notion of the life of country gentlemen; that i left mr fraser just now, as one leaves a prisoner in a jail. dr johnson said, that i was right in thinking them unhappy; for that they had not enough to keep their minds in motion. i started a thought this afternoon which amused us a great part of the way. 'if,' said i, 'our club should come and set up in st andrews, as a college, to teach all that each of us can, in the several departments of learning and taste, we should rebuild the city: we should draw a wonderful concourse of students.' dr johnson entered fully into the spirit of this project. we immediately fell to distributing the offices. i was to teach civil and scotch law; burke, politicks and eloquence; garrick, the art of publick speaking; langton was to be our grecian, colman our latin professor; nugent to teach physick; lord charlemont, modern history; beauclerk, natural philosophy; vesey, irish antiquities, or celtick learning;[footnote: since the first edition, it has been suggested by one of the clubs, who knew mr vesey better than dr johnson and i, that we did not assign him a proper place; for he was quite unskilled in irish antiquities and celtick learning, but might with propriety have been made professor of architecture, which he understood well, and has left a very good specimen of his knowledge and taste in that art, by an elegant house built on a plan of his own formation, at lucan, a few miles from dublin.] jones, oriental learning; goldsmith, poetry and ancient history; chamier, commercial politicks; reynolds, painting, and the arts which have beauty for their object; chambers, the law of england. dr johnson at first said. 'i'll trust theology to nobody but myself.' but, upon due consideration, that percy is a clergyman, it was agreed that percy should teach practical divinity and british antiquities; dr johnson himself, logick, metaphysicks and scholastick divinity. in this manner did we amuse ourselves, each suggesting, and each varying or adding, till the whole was adjusted. dr johnson said, we only wanted a mathematician since dyer died, who was a very good one; but as to every thing else, we should have a very capital university, [footnote: our club, originally at the turk's head, gerrard street, then at prince's, sackville street, now at baxter's dover street, which at mr garrick's funeral acquired a name for the first time, and was called the literary club, was instituted in , and now consists of thirty-five members. it has, since , been greatly augmented; and though dr johnson with justice observed, that, by losing goldsmith, garrick, nugent, chamier, beauclerk, we had lost what would make an eminent club, yet when i mention, as an accession, mr fox, dr george fordyce, sir charles bunbury, lord offory, mr gibbon, dr adam smith, mr r. b. sheridan, the bishops of kilaloe and st asaph, dean marlay, mr steevens, mr dunning, sir joseph banks, dr scott of the commons, earl spencer, mr windham of norfolk, lord elliot, mr malone, dr joseph warton, the rev. thomas warton, lord lucan, mr burke junior, lord palmerston, dr burney, sir william hamilton, and dr warren, it will be acknowledged that we might establish a second university of high reputation.] we got at night to banff. i sent joseph on to duff house: but earl fife was not at home, which i regretted much, as we should have had a very elegant reception from his lordship. we found here but an indifferent inn. [footnote: here, unluckily the windows had no pullies; and dr johnson, who was constantly eager for fresh air, had much struggling to get one of them kept open. thus he had a notion impressed upon him, that this wretched defect was general in scotland; in consequence of which he has erroneously enlarged upon it in his journey. i regretted that he did not allow me to read over his book before it was printed. i should have changed very little; but i should have suggested an alteration in a few places where he has laid himself open to be attacked. i hope i should have prevailed with him to omit or soften his assertion, that 'a scotsman must be a sturdy moralist, who does not prefer scotland to truth', for i really think it is not founded; and it is harshly said.] dr johnson wrote a long letter to mrs thrale. i wondered to see him write so much so easily. he verified his own doctrine that 'a man may always write when he will set himself doggedly to it'. thursday, th august we got a fresh chaise here, a very good one, and very good horses. we breakfasted at cullen. they set down dried haddocks broiled, along with our tea. i ate one; but dr johnson was disgusted by the sight of them, so they were removed. cullen has a comfortable appearance, though but a very small town, and the houses mostly poor buildings. i called on mr robertson, who has the charge of lord findlater's affairs, and was formerly lord monboddo's clerk, was three times in france with him, and translated condamine's account of the savage girl, to which his lordship wrote a preface, containing several remarks of his own. robertson said, he did not believe so much as his lordship did; that it was plain to him, the girl confounded what she imagined with what she remembered: that, besides, she perceived condamine and lord monboddo forming theories, and she adapted her story to them. dr johnson said, 'it is a pity to see lord monboddo publish such notions as he has done; a man of sense, and of so much elegant learning. there would be little in a fool doing it; we should only laugh; but when a wise man does it, we are sorry. other people have strange notions; but they conceal them. if they have tails, they hide them; but monboddo is as jealous of his tail as a squirrel.' i shall here put down some more remarks of dr johnson's on lord monboddo, which were not made exactly at this time, but come in well from connection. he said, he did not approve of a judge's calling himself farmer burnett, [footnote: it is the custom in scotland for the judges of the court of session to have the title of lords, from their estates: thus mr burnett is lord monboddo, as mr home was lord kames. there is something a little aukward in this; for they are denominated in deeds by their names, with the addition of one of the senators of the college of justice'; and subscribe their christian and surname, as james burnett, henry home, even in judicial acts.] and going about with a little round hat. he laughed heartily at his lordship's saying he was an enthusiastical farmer; 'for,' said he, 'what can he do in farming by his enthusiasm?' here, however, i think dr johnson mistaken. he who wishes to be successful, or happy, ought to be enthusiastical, that is to say, very keen in all the occupations or diversions of life. an ordinary gentleman-farmer will be satisfied with looking at his fields once or twice a day: an enthusiastical farmer will be constantly employed on them; will have his mind earnestly engaged; will talk perpetually of them. but dr johnson has much of the nil admirari in smaller concerns. that survey of life which gave birth to his vanity of human wishes early sobered his mind. besides, so great a mind as his cannot be moved by inferior objects: an elephant does not run and skip like lesser animals. mr robertson sent a servant with us, to shew us through lord findlater's wood, by which our way was shortened, and we saw some part of his domain, which is indeed admirably laid out. dr johnson did not choose to walk through it. he always said, that he was not come to scotland to see fine places, of which there were enough in england; but wild objects--mountains, waterfalls, peculiar manners; in short, things which he had not seen before. i have a notion that he at no time has had much taste for rural beauties. i have myself very little. dr johnson said, there was nothing more contemptible than a country gentleman living beyond his income, and every year growing poorer and poorer. he spoke strongly of the influence which a man has by being rich. 'a man,' said he, 'who keeps his money, has in reality more use from it, than he can have by spending it.' i observed that this looked very like a paradox; but he explained it thus: 'if it were certain that a man would keep his money locked up for ever, to be sure he would have no influence; but, as so many want money, and he has the power of giving it, and they know not but by gaining his favour they may obtain it, the rich man will always have the greatest influence. he again who lavishes his money, is laughed at as foolish, and in a great degree with justice, considering how much is spent from vanity. even those who partake of a man's hospitality, have but a transient kindness for him. if he has not the command of money, people know he cannot help them, if he would; whereas the rich man always can, if he will, and for the chance of that, will have much weight.' boswell. 'but philosophers and satirists have all treated a miser as contemptible.' johnson. 'he is so philosophically; but not in the practice of life.' boswell. 'let me see now--i do not know the instances of misers in england, so as to examine into their influence.' johnson. 'we have had few misers in england.' boswell. 'there was lowther." johnson. 'why, sir, lowther, by keeping his money, had the command of the county, which the family has now lost, by spending it. [footnote: i do not know what was at this time the state of the parliamentary interest of the ancient family of lowther; a family before the conquest: but all the nation knows it to be very extensive at present. a due mixture of severity and kindness, oeconomy and munificence, characterizes its present representative.] i take it, he lent a great deal; and that is the way to have influence, and yet preserve one's wealth. a man may lend his money upon very good security, and yet have his debtor much under his power.' boswell. 'no doubt, sir. he can always distress him for the money; as no man borrows, who is able to pay on demand quite conveniently.' we dined at elgin, and saw the noble ruins of the cathedral. though it rained much, dr johnson examined them with a most patient attention. he could not here feel any abhorrence at the scottish reformers, for he had been told by lord hailes, that it was destroyed before the reformation, by the lord of badenoch, [footnote: note, by lord hailes: 'the cathedral of elgin was burnt by the lord of badenoch, because the bishop of moray had pronounced an award not to his liking. the indemnification that the see obtained, was that the lord of badenoch stood for three days bare footed at the great gate of the cathedral. the story is in the chartulary of elgin.'] who had a quarrel with the bishop. the bishop's house, and those of the other clergy, which are still pretty entire, do not seem to have been proportioned to the magnificence of the cathedral, which has been of great extent, and had very fine carved work. the ground within the walls of the cathedral is employed as a burying-place. the family of gordon have their vault here; but it has nothing grand. we passed gordon castle [footnote: i am not sure whether the duke was at home. but, not having the honour of being much known to his grace, i could not have presumed to enter his castle, though to introduce even so celebrated a stranger. we were at any rate in a hurry to get forward to the wildness which we came to see. perhaps, if this noble family had still preserved that sequestered magnificence which they maintained when catholicks, corresponding with the grand duke of tuscany, we might have been induced to have procured proper letters of introduction, and devoted some time to the contemplation of venerable superstitious state.] this forenoon, which has a princely appearance. fochabers, the neighbouring village, is a poor place, many of the houses being ruinous; but it is remarkable, they have in general orchards well stored with apple-trees. elgin has what in england are called piazzas, that run in many places on each side of the street. it must have been a much better place formerly. probably it had piazzas all along the town, as i have seen at bologna. i approved much of such structures in a town, on account of their conveniency in wet weather. dr johnson disapproved of them, 'because,' said he, 'it makes the under story of a house very dark, which greatly over-balances the conveniency, when it is considered how small a part of the year it rains; how few are usually in the street at such times; that many who are might as well be at home; and the little that people suffer, supposing them to be as much wet as they commonly are in walking a street'. we fared but ill at our inn here; and dr johnson said, this was the first time he had seen a dinner in scotland that he could not eat. in the afternoon, we drove over the very heath where macbeth met the witches, according to tradition. dr johnson again solemnly repeated '"how far is't called to fores? what are these, so wither'd, and so wild in their attire that look not like the inhabitants o' the earth. and yet are on't "' he repeated a good deal more of macbeth. his recitation was grand and affecting, and, as sir joshua reynolds has observed to me, had no more tone than it should have: it was the better for it. he then parodied the 'all-hail' of the witches to macbeth, addressing himself to me. i had purchased some land called dalblair; and, as in scotland it is customary to distinguish landed men by the name of their estates, i had thus two titles, dalblair and young auchinleck. so my friend, in imitation of all hail macbeth! hail to thee, thane of cawdor! condescended to amuse himself with uttering all hail dalblair! hail to thee, laird of auchinleck! we got to fores at night, and found an admirable inn, in which dr johnson was pleased to meet with a landlord who styled himself 'wine-cooper, from london'. friday, th august it was dark when we came to fores last night; so we did not see what is called king duncan's monument. i shall now mark some gleanings of dr johnson's conversation. i spoke of leonidas, and said there were some good passages in it. johnson. 'why, you must seek for them.' he said, paul whitehead's manners was a poor performance. speaking of derrick, he told me he had a kindness for him, and had often said, that if his letters had been written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought very pretty letters. this morning i introduced the subject of the origin of evil. johnson. 'moral evil is occasioned by free will, which implies choice between good and evil. with all the evil that there is, there is no man but would rather be a free agent, than a mere machine without the evil; and what is best for each individual, must be best for the whole. if a man would rather be the machine, i cannot argue with him. he is a different being from me.' boswell. 'a man, as a machine, may have agreeable sensations; for instance, he may have pleasure in musick.' johnson, 'no, sir, he can not have pleasure in musick; at least no power of producing musick; for he who can produce musick may let it alone: he who can play upon a fiddle may break it: such a man is not a machine.' this reasoning satisfied me. it is certain, there cannot be a free agent, unless there is the power of being evil as well as good. we must take the inherent possibilities of things into consideration, in our reasonings or conjectures concerning the works of god. we came to nairn to breakfast. though a county town and royal burgh, it is a miserable place. over the room where we sat, a girl was spinning wool with a great wheel, and singing, an erse song: 'i'll warrant you,' said dr johnson, 'one of the songs of ossian.' he then repeated these lines: '"verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound. all at her work the village maiden sings; nor, while she turns the giddy wheel around revolves the sad vicissitude of things."' i thought i had heard these lines before. johnson. 'i fancy not, sir; for they are in a detached poem, the name of which i do not remember, written by one giffard, a parson.' i expected mr kenneth m'aulay, the minister of calder, who published the history of st kilda, a book which dr johnson liked, would have met us here, as i had written to him from aberdeen. but i received a letter from him, telling me that he could not leave home, as he was to administer the sacrament the following sunday, and earnestly requesting to see us at his manse. 'we'll go,' said dr johnson; which we accordingly did. mrs m'aulay received us, and told us her husband was in the church distributing tokens. [footnote: in scotland, there is a great deal of preparation before administering the sacrament. the minister of the parish examines the people as to their fitness, and to those of whom he approves gives little pieces of tin, stamped with the name of the parish, as tokens, which they must produce before receiving it. this is a species of priestly power, and sometimes may be abused. i remember a lawsuit brought by a person against his parish minister, for refusing him admission to that sacred ordinance.] we arrived between twelve and one o'clock, and it was near three before he came to us. dr johnson thanked him for his book, and said 'it was a very pretty piece of topography'. m'aulay did not seem much to mind the compliment. from his conversation, dr johnson was persuaded that he had not written the book which goes under his name. i myself always suspected so; and i have been told it was written by the learned dr john m'pherson of sky, from the materials collected by m'aulay. dr johnson said privately to me, 'there is a combination in it of which m'aulay is not capable.' however, he was exceedingly hospitable; and, as he obligingly promised us a route for our tour through the western isles, we agreed to stay with him all night. after dinner, we walked to the old castle of calder (pronounced cawder), the thane of cawdor's seat. i was sorry that my friend, this 'prosperous gentleman', was not there. the old tower must be of great antiquity. there is a draw-bridge,--what has been a moat--and an ancient court. there is a hawthorn-tree, which rises like a wooden pillar through the rooms of the castle; for, by a strange conceit, the walls have been built round it. the thickness of the walls, the small slaunting windows, and a great iron door at the entrance on the second story as you ascend the stairs, all indicate the rude times in which this castle was erected. there were here some large venerable trees. i was afraid of a quarrel between dr johnson and mr m'aulay, who talked slightingly of the lower english clergy. the doctor gave him a frowning look, and said, 'this is a day of novelties: i have seen old trees in scotland, and i have heard the english clergy treated with disrespect.' i dreaded that a whole evening at caldermanse would be heavy; however, mr grant, an intelligent and well-bred minister in the neighbourhood, was there, and assisted us by his conversation. dr johnson, talking of hereditary occupations in the highlands, said, 'there is no harm in such a custom as this; but it is wrong to enforce it, and oblige a man to be a taylor or a smith, because his father has been one.' this custom, however, is not peculiar to our highlands; it is well known that in india a similar practice prevails. mr m'aulay began a rhapsody against creeds and confessions. dr johnson shewed, that 'what he called "imposition", was only a voluntary declaration of agreement in certain articles of faith, which a church has a right to require, just as any other society can insist on certain rules being observed by its members. nobody is compelled to be of the church, as nobody is compelled to enter into a society.' this was a very clear and just view of the subject: but, m'aulay could not be driven out of his track. dr johnson said, 'sir, you are a bigot to laxness.' mr m'aulay and i laid the map of scotland before us; and he pointed out a rout for us from inverness, by fort augustus, to glenelg, sky, mull, icolmkill, lorn, and inveraray, which i wrote down. as my father was to begin the northern circuit about the th of september, it was necessary for us to make our tour with great expedition, so as to get to auchinleck before he set out, or to protract it, so as not to be there till his return, which would be about the th of october. by m'aulay's calculation, we were not to land in lorn till the th of september. i thought that the interruptions by bad days, or by occasional excursions, might make it ten days later; and i thought too, that we might perhaps go to benbecula, and visit clanranald, which would take a week of itself. dr johnson went up with mr grant to the library, which consisted of a tolerable collection; but the doctor thought it rather a lady's library, with some latin books in it by chance, than the library of a clergyman. it had only two of the latin fathers, and one of the greek fathers in latin. i doubted whether dr johnson would be present at a presbyterian prayer. i told mr m'aulay so, and said that the doctor might sit in the library while we were at family worship. mr m'aulay said, he would omit it, rather than give dr johnson offence: but i would by no means agree that an excess of politeness, even to so great a man, should prevent what i esteem as one of the best pious regulations. i know nothing more beneficial, more comfortable, more agreeable, than that the little societies of each family should regularly assemble, and unite in praise and prayer to our heavenly father, from whom we daily receive so much good, and may hope for more in a higher state of existence. i mentioned to dr johnson the over-delicate scrupulosity of our host. he said, he had no objection to hear the prayer. this was a pleasing surprise to me; for he refused to go and hear principal robertson preach. 'i will hear him,' said he, 'if he will get up into a tree and preach; but i will not give a sanction, by my presence, to a presbyterian assembly.' mr grant having prayed, dr johnson said, his prayer was a very good one; but objected to his not having introduced the lord's prayer. he told us, that an italian of some note in london said once to him, 'we have in our service a prayer called the pater noster, which is a very fine composition. i wonder who is the author of it.' a singular instance of ignorance in a man of some literature and general inquiry! saturday, th august dr johnson had brought a sallust with him in his pocket from edinburgh. he gave it last night to mr m'aulay's son, a smart young lad about eleven years old. dr johnson had given an account of the education at oxford, in all its gradations. the advantage of being servitor to a youth of little fortune struck mrs m'aulay much. i observed it aloud. dr johnson very handsomely and kindly said, that, if they would send their boy to him, when he was ready for the university, he would get him made a servitor, and perhaps would do more for him. he could not promise to do more; but would undertake for the servitorship. [footnote: dr johnson did not neglect what he had undertaken. by his interest with the rev. dr adams, master of pembroke college, oxford, where he was educated for some time, he obtained a servitorship for young m'aulay. but it seems he had other views; and i believe went abroad.] i should have mentioned that mr white, a welchman, who has been many years factor (i.e. steward) on the estate of calder, drank tea with us last night, and upon getting a note from mr m'aulay, asked us to his house. we had not time to accept of his invitation. he gave us a letter of introduction to mr ferne, master of stores at fort george. he shewed it to me. it recommended 'two celebrated gentlemen; no less than dr johnson, author of his dictionary, and mr boswell, known at edinburgh by the name of paoli'. he said, he hoped i had no objection to what he had written; if i had, he would alter it. i thought it was a pity to check his effusions, and acquiesced; taking care, however, to seal the letter, that it might not appear that i had read it. a conversation took place, about saying grace at breakfast (as we do in scotland) as well as at dinner and supper; in which dr johnson said, 'it is enough if we have stated seasons of prayer; no matter when. a man may as well pray when he mounts his horse, or a woman when she milks her cow, (which mr grant told us is done in the highlands), as at meals; and custom is to be followed.' [footnote: he could not bear to have it thought that, in any instance whatever, the scots are more pious than the english. i think grace as proper at breakfast as at any other meal. it is the pleasantest meal we have. dr johnson has allowed the peculiar merit of breakfast in scotland.] we proceeded to fort george. when we came into the square, i sent a soldier with the letter to mr ferne. he came to us immediately, and along with him came major brewse of the engineers, pronounced bruce. he said he believed it was originally the same norman name with bruce. that he had dined at a house in london, where were three bruces, one of the irish line, one of the scottish line, and himself of the english line. he said he was shewn it in the herald's office spelt fourteen different ways. i told him the different spellings of my name. dr johnson observed, that there had been great disputes about the spelling of shakspear's name; at last it was thought it would be settled by looking at the original copy of his will; but, upon examining it, he was found to have written it himself no less than three different ways. mr ferne and major brewse first carried us to wait on sir eyre coote, whose regiment, the th, was lying here, and who then commanded the fort. he asked us to dine with him, which we agreed to do. before dinner we examined the fort. the major explained the fortification to us, and mr ferne gave us an account of the stores. dr johnson talked of the proportions of charcoal and salt-petre in making gunpowder, of granulating it, and of giving it a gloss. he made a very good figure upon these topicks. he said to me afterwards, that he had talked ostentatiously. we reposed ourselves a little in mr ferne's house. he had every thing in neat order as in england; and a tolerable collection of books. i looked into pennant's tour in scotland. he says little of this fort; but that 'the barracks, &c. form several streets'. this is aggrandizing. mr ferne observed, if he had said they form a square, with a row of buildings before it, he would have given a juster description. dr johnson remarked, 'how seldom descriptions correspond with realities; and the reason is, that people do not write them till some time after, and then their imagination has added circumstances'. we talked of sir adolphus oughton. the major said, he knew a great deal for a military man. johnson. 'sir, you will find few men, of any profession, who know more. sir adolphus is a very extraordinary man; a man of boundless curiosity and unwearied diligence.' i know not how the major contrived to introduce the contest between warburton and lowth. johnson. 'warburton kept his temper all along, while lowth was in a passion. lowth published some of warburton's letters. warburton drew him on to write some very abusive letters, and then asked his leave to publish them; which he knew lowth could not refuse, after what he had done. so that warburton contrived that he should publish, apparently with lowth's consent, what could not but shew lowth in a disadvantageous light.' [footnote: here dr johnson gave us part of a conversation held between a great personage and him, in the library at the queen's palace, to the course of which this contest was considered. i have been at great pains to get that conversation as perfectly preserved as possible. it may perhaps at some future time be given to the publick.] at three the drum beat for dinner. i, for a little while, fancied myself a military man, and it pleased me. we went to sir eyre coote's, at the governour's house, and found him a most gentleman-like man. his lady is a very agreeable woman, with an uncommonly mild and sweet tone of voice. there was a pretty large company: mr ferne, major brewse, and several officers. sir eyre had come from the east indies by land, through the desarts of arabia. he told us, the arabs could live five days without victuals, and subsist for three weeks on nothing else but the blood of their camels, who could lose so much of it as would suffice for that time, without being exhausted. he highly praised the virtue of the arabs; their fidelity, if they undertook to conduct any person; and said, they would sacrifice their lives rather than let him be robbed. dr johnson, who is always for maintaining the superiority of civilized over uncivilized men, said, 'why, sir, i can see no superiour virtue in this. a serjeant and twelve men, who are my guard, will die, rather than that i shall be robbed.' colonel pennington, of the th regiment, took up the argument with a good deal of spirit and ingenuity. pennington. 'but the soldiers are compelled to this, by fear of punishment.' johnson. 'well, sir, the arabs are compelled by the fear of infamy.' pennington. 'the soldiers have the same fear of infamy, and the fear of punishment besides; so have less virtue; because they act less voluntarily.' lady coote observed very well, that it ought to be known if there was not, among the arabs, some punishment for not being faithful on such occasions. we talked of the stage. i observed, that we had not now such a company of actors as in the last age; wilks, booth, &c. &c. johnson. 'you think so, because there is one who excels all the rest so much: you compare them with garrick, and see the deficiency. garrick's great distinction is his universality. he can represent all modes of life, but that of an easy fine-bred gentleman.' pennington. 'he should give over playing young parts.' johnson. 'he does not take them now; but he does not leave off those which he has been used to play, because he does them better than any one else can do them. if you had generations of actors, if they swarmed like bees, the young ones might drive off the old. mrs gibber, i think, got more reputation than she deserved, as she had a great sameness; though her expression was undoubtedly very fine. mrs clive was the best player i ever saw. mrs pritchard was a very good one; but she had something affected in her manner: i imagine she had some player of the former age in her eye, which occasioned it.' colonel pennington said, garrick sometimes failed in emphasis; as for instance, in hamlet, i will speak daggers to her; but use none, instead of i will speak daggers to her; but use none. we had a dinner of two complete courses, variety of wines, and the regimental band of musick playing in the square, before the window, after it. i enjoyed this day much. we were quite easy and cheerful, dr johnson said, 'i shall always remember this fort with gratitude.' i could not help being struck with some admiration, at finding upon this barren sandy point, such buildings, such a dinner, such company: it was like enchantment. dr johnson, on the other hand, said to me more rationally, that it did not strike him as any thing extraordinary; because he knew, here was a large sum of money expended in building a fort; here was a regiment. if there had been less than what we found, it would have surprized him. he looked coolly and deliberately through all the gradations: my warm imagination jumped from the barren sands to the splendid dinner and brilliant company, to borrow the expression of an absurd poet, without ands or ifs, i leapt from off the sands upon the cliffs. the whole scene gave me a strong impression of the power and excellence of human art. we left the fort between six and seven o'clock: sir eyre coote, colonel pennington, and several more, accompanied us down stairs, and saw us into our chaise. there could not be greater attention paid to any visitors. sir eyre spoke of the hardships which dr johnson had before him. boswell. 'considering what he has said of us, we must make him feel something rough in scotland.' sir eyre said to him, 'you must change your name, sir.' boswell. 'ay, to dr m'gregor.' we got safely to inverness, and put up at mackenzie's inn. mr keith, the collector of excise here, my old acquaintance at ayr, who had seen us at the fort, visited us in the evening, and engaged us to dine with him next day, promising to breakfast with us, and take us to the english chapel; so that we were at once commodiously arranged. not finding a letter here that i expected, i felt a momentary impatience to be at home. transient clouds darkened my imagination, and in those clouds i saw events from which i shrunk; but a sentence or two of the rambler's conversation gave me firmness, and i considered that i was upon an expedition for which i had wished for years, and the recollection of which would be a treasure to me for life. sunday, th august mr keith breakfasted with us. dr johnson expatiated rather too strongly upon the benefits derived to scotland from the union, and the bad state of our people before it. i am entertained with his copious exaggeration upon that subject; but i am uneasy when people are by, who do not know him as well as i do, and may be apt to think him narrow-minded. [footnote: it is remarkable that dr johnson read this gentle remonstrance, and took no notice of it to me.] i therefore diverted the subject. the english chapel, to which we went this morning, was but mean. the altar was a bare fir table, with a coarse stool for kneeling on, covered with a piece of thick sail-cloth doubled, by way of cushion. the congregation was small. mr tait, the clergyman, read prayers very well, though with much of the scotch accent. he preached on 'love your enemies'. it was remarkable that, when talking of the connections amongst men, he said, that some connected themselves with men of distinguished talents, and since they could not equal them, tried to deck themselves with their merit, by being their companions. the sentence was to this purpose. it had an odd coincidence with what might be said of my connecting myself with dr johnson. after church, we walked down to the quay. we then went to macbeth's castle. i had a romantick satisfaction in seeing dr johnson actually in it. it perfectly corresponds with shakspeare's description, which sir joshua reynolds has so happily illustrated, in one of his notes on our immortal poet: this castle hath a pleasant seat: the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle sense, &c. just as we came out of it, a raven perched on one of the chimney-tops, and croaked. then i repeated '... the raven himself is hoarse. that croaks the fatal enterance of duncan under my battlements.' we dined at mr keith's. mrs keith was rather too attentive to dr johnson, asking him many questions about his drinking only water. he repressed that observation, by saying to me, 'you may remember that lady errol took no notice of this.' dr johnson has the happy art (for which i have heard my father praise the old earl of aberdeen) of instructing himself, by making every man he meets tell him something of what he knows best. he led keith to talk to him of the excise in scotland, and, in the course of conversation, mentioned that his friend mr thrale, the great brewer, paid twenty thousand pounds a year to the revenue; and that he had four casks, each of which holds sixteen hundred barrels--above a thousand hogsheads. after this there was little conversation that deserves to be remembered. i shall therefore here again glean what i have omitted on former days. dr gerard, at aberdeen, told us, that when he was in wales, he was shewn a valley inhabited by danes, who still retain their own language, and are quite a distinct people. dr johnson thought it could not be true, or all the kingdom must have heard of it. he said to me, as we travelled, 'these people, sir, that gerard talks of, may have somewhat of a peregrinity in their dialect, which relation has augmented to a different language'. i asked him if peregrinity was an english word: he laughed, and said, 'no.' i told him this was the second time that i had heard him coin a word. when foote broke his leg, i observed that it would make him fitter for taking off george faulkner as peter paragragh, poor george having a wooden leg. dr johnson at that time said, 'george will rejoice at the depeditation of foote'; and when i challenged that word, laughed, and owned he had made it, and added that he had not made above three or four in his dictionary. [footnote: when upon the subject of this peregrinity, he told me some particulars concerning the compilation of his dictionary, and concerning his throwing off lord chesterfield's patronage, of which very erroneous accounts have been circulated. these particulars, with others which he afterwards gave me--as also his celebrated letter to lord chesterfield, which he dictated to me--i reserve for his life.] having conducted dr johnson to our inn, i begged permission to leave him for a little, that i might run about and pay some short visits to several good people of inverness. he said to me, 'you have all the old-fashioned principles, good and bad.' i acknowledge i have. that of attention to relations in the remotest degree, or to worthy persons, in every state whom i have once known, i inherit from my father. it gave me much satisfaction to hear every body at inverness speak of him with uncommon regard. mr keith and mr grant, whom we had seen at mr m'aulay's, supped with us at the inn. we had roasted kid, which dr johnson had never tasted before. he relished it much. monday, th august this day we were to begin our equitation, as i said; for _i_ would needs make a word too. it is remarkable, that my noble, and to me most constant friend, the earl of pembroke (who, if there is too much ease on my part, will please to pardon what his benevolent, gay, social intercourse, and lively correspondence, have insensibly produced) has since hit upon the very same word. the title of the first edition of his lordship's very useful book was, in simple terms, a method of breaking horses and teaching soldiers to ride. the title of the second edition is, military equitation. we might have taken a chaise to fort augustus, but, had we not hired horses at inverness, we should not have found them afterwards: so we resolved to begin here to ride. we had three horses, for dr johnson, myself, and joseph, and one which carried our portmanteaus, and two highlanders who walked along with us, john hay and lauchland vass, whom dr johnson has remembered with credit in his journey, though he has omitted their names. dr johnson rode very well. about three miles beyond inverness, we saw, just by the road, a very complete specimen of what is called a druid's temple. there was a double circle, one of very large, the other of smaller stones. dr johnson justly observed, that, 'to go and see one druidical temple is only to see that it is nothing, for there is neither art nor power in it; and seeing one is quite enough'. it was a delightful day. lochness, and the road upon the side of it, shaded with birch trees, and the hills above it, pleased us much. the scene was as sequestered and agreeably wild as could be desired, and for a time engrossed all our attention. to see dr johnson in any new situation is always an interesting object to me; and, as i saw him now for the first time on horseback, jaunting about at his ease in quest of pleasure and novelty, the very different occupations of his former laborious life, his admirable productions, his london, his rambler, &c. &c. immediately presented themselves to my mind, and the contrast made a strong impression on my imagination. when we had advanced a good way by the side of lochness, i perceived a little hut, with an old looking woman at the door of it. i thought here might be a scene that would amuse dr johnson: so i mentioned it to him. 'let's go in,' said he. we dismounted, and we and our guides entered the hut. it was a wretched little hovel of earth only, i think, and for a window had only a small hole, which was stopped with a piece of turf, that was taken out occasionally to let in light. in the middle of the room or space which we entered, was a fire of peat, the smoke going out at a hole in the roof. she had a pot upon it, with goat's flesh, boiling. there was at one end under the same roof, but divided by a kind of partition made of wattles, a pen or fold in which we saw a good many kids. dr johnson was curious to know where she slept. i asked one of the guides, who questioned her in erse. she answered with a tone of emotion, saying (as he told us) she was afraid we wanted to go to bed to her. this coquetry, or whatever it may be called, of so wretched a being, was truly ludicrous. dr johnson and i afterwards were merry upon it. i said, it was he who alarmed the poor woman's virtue. 'no, sir,' said he, 'she'll say, '"there came a wicked young fellow, a wild dog, who i believe would have ravished me, had there not been with him a grave old gentleman, who repressed him: but when he gets out of the sight of his tutor, i'll warrant you he'll spare no woman he meets, young or old."' 'no, sir,' i replied, 'she'll say, "there was a terrible ruffian who would have forced me, had it not been for a civil decent young man who, i take it, was an angel sent from heaven to protect me."' dr johnson would not hurt her delicacy, by insisting on 'seeing her bedchamber', like archer in the beaux' stratagem. but my curiosity was more ardent; i lighted a piece of paper, and went into the place where the bed was. there was a little partition of wicker, rather more neatly done than that for the fold, and close by the wall was a kind of bedstead of wood with heath upon it by way of bed; at the foot of which i saw some sort of blankets or covering rolled up in a heap. the woman's name was fraser; so was her husband's. he was a man of eighty. mr fraser of balnain allows him to live in this hut, and keep sixty goats, for taking care of his woods, where he then was. they had five children, the eldest only thirteen. two were gone to inverness to buy meal; the rest were looking after the goats. this contented family had four stacks of barley, twenty-four sheaves in each. they had a few fowls. we were informed that they lived all the spring without meal, upon milk and curds and whey alone. what they get for their goats, kids, and fowls, maintains them during the rest of the year. she asked us to sit down and take a dram. i saw one chair. she said she was as happy as any woman in scotland. she could hardly speak any english except a few detached words. dr johnson was pleased at seeing, for the first time, such a state of human life. she asked for snuff. it is her luxury, and she uses a great deal. we had none; but gave her six pence a piece. she then brought out her whisky bottle. i tasted it; as did joseph and our guides: so i gave her sixpence more. she sent us away with many prayers in erse. we dined at a publick house called the general's hut, from general wade, who was lodged there when he commanded in the north. near it is the meanest parish kirk i ever saw. it is a shame it should be on a high road. after dinner, we passed through a good deal of mountainous country. i had known mr trapaud, the deputy governour of fort augustus, twelve years ago, at a circuit at inverness, where my father was judge. i sent forward one of our guides, and joseph, with a card to him, that he might know dr johnson and i were coming up, leaving it to him to invite us or not. it was dark when we arrived. the inn was wretched. government ought to build one, or give the resident governour an additional salary; as in the present state of things, he must necessarily be put to a great expence in entertaining travellers. joseph announced to us, when we alighted, that the governour waited for us at the gate of the fort. we walked to it. he met us, and with much civility conducted us to his house. it was comfortable to find ourselves in a well built little square, and a neatly furnished house, in good company, and with a good supper before us; in short, with all the conveniencies of civilized life in the midst of rude mountains. mrs trapaud, and the governour's daughter, and her husband. captain newmarsh, were all most obliging and polite. the governour had excellent animal spirits, the conversation of a soldier, and somewhat of a frenchman, to which his extraction entitles him. he is brother to general cyrus trapaud. we passed a very agreeable evening. tuesday, st august the governour has a very good garden. we looked at it, and at the rest of the fort, which is but small, and may be commanded from a variety of hills around. we also looked at the galley or sloop belonging to the fort, which sails upon the loch, and brings what is wanted for the garrison. captains urie and darippe, of the th regiment of foot, breakfasted with us. they had served in america, and entertained dr johnson much with an account of the indians. he said, he could make a very pretty book out of them, were he to stay there. governour trapaud was much struck with dr johnson. 'i like to hear him,' said he; 'it is so majestick. i should be glad to hear him speak in your court.' he pressed us to stay dinner; but i considered that we had a rude road before us, which we could more easily encounter in the morning, and that it was hard to say when we might get up, were we to sit down to good entertainment, in good company: i therefore begged the governour would excuse us. here too, i had another very pleasing proof how much my father is regarded. the governour expressed the highest respect for him, and bade me tell him, that, if he would come that way on the northern circuit, he would do him all the honours of the garrison. between twelve and one we set out, and travelled eleven miles, through a wild country, till we came to a house in glenmorison, called anoch, kept by a m'queen. [footnote: a m'queen is a highland mode of expression. an englishman would say one m'queen. but where there are clans or tribes of men, distinguished by patronymick surnames, the individuals of each are considered as if they were of different species, at least as much as nations are distinguished; so that a m'queen, a m'donald, a m'lean, is said, as we say a frenchman, an italian, a spaniard.] our landlord was a sensible fellow: he had learnt his grammar, and dr johnson justly observed, that 'a man is the better for that as long as he lives.' there were some books here: a treatise against drunkenness, translated from the french; a volume of the spectator; a volume of prideaux's connection, and cyrus's travels. m'queen said he had more volumes; and his pride seemed to be much piqued that we were surprised at his having books. near to this place we had passed a party of soldiers, under a serjeant's command, at work upon the road. we gave them two shillings to drink. they came to our inn, and made merry in the barn. we went and paid them a visit, dr johnson saying, 'come, let's go and give 'em another shilling a-piece.' we did so; and he was saluted 'my lord' by all of them. he is really generous, loves influence, and has the way of gaining it. he said, 'i am quite feudal, sir.' here i agree with him. i said, i regretted i was not the head of a clan; however, though not possessed of such an hereditary advantage, i would always endeavour to make my tenants follow me. i could not be a patriarchal chief, but i would be a feudal chief. the poor soldiers got too much liquor. some of them fought, and left blood upon the spot, and cursed whisky next morning. the house here was built of thick turfs, and thatched with thinner turfs and heath. it had three rooms in length, and a little room which projected. where we sat, the side-walls were wainscotted, as dr johnson said, with wicker, very neatly plaited. our landlord had made the whole with his own hands. after dinner, m'queen sat by us a while, and talked with us. he said, all the laird of glenmorison's people would bleed for him, if they were well used; but that seventy men had gone out of the glen to america. that he himself intended to go next year; for that the rent of his farm, which twenty years ago was only five pounds, was now raised to twenty pounds. that he could pay ten pounds, and live; but no more. dr johnson said, he wished m'queen laird of glenmorison, and the laird to go to america. m'queen very generously answered, he should be sorry for it; for the laird could not shift for himself in america as he could do. i talked of the officers whom we had left to day; how much service they had seen, and how little they got for it, even of fame. johnson. 'sir, a soldier gets as little as any man can get.' boswell. 'goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war, who were not generals.' johnson. 'why, sir, you will find ten thousand fit to do what they did, before you find one who does what goldsmith has done. you must consider, that a thing is valued according to its rarity. a pebble that paves the street is in itself more useful than the diamond upon a lady's finger.' i wish our friend goldsmith had heard this. i yesterday expressed my wonder that john hay, one of our guides, who had been pressed aboard a man of war, did not choose to continue in it longer than nine months, after which time he got off. johnson. 'why, sir, no man will be a sailor, who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for, being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.' we had tea in the afternoon, and our landlord's daughter, a modest civil girl, very neatly drest, made it for us. she told us, she had been a year at inverness, and learnt reading and writing, sewing, knotting, working lace, and pastry. dr johnson made her a present of a book which he had bought at inverness. [footnote: this book has given rise to much inquiry, which has ended in ludicrous surprise. several ladies, wishing to learn the kind of reading which the great and good dr johnson esteemed most fit for a young woman, desired to know what book he had selected for this highland nymph. they never adverted,' said he, 'that i had no choice in the matter. i have said that i presented her with a book which i happened to have about me.' and what was this book? my readers, prepare your features for merriment. it was cocker's arithmetick! wherever this was mentioned, there was a loud laugh, at which dr johnson, when present used sometimes to be a little angry. one day, when we were dining at general oglethorpe's, where we had many a valuable day, i ventured to interrogate him, 'but, sir, is it not somewhat singular that you should happen to have cocker's arithmetick about you on your journey? what made you buy such a book at inverness?' he gave me a very sufficient answer. 'why, sir, if you are to have but one book with you upon a journey, let it be a book of science. when you have read through a book of entertainment, you know it, and it can do no more for you; but a book of science is inexhaustible.'] the room had some deals laid across the joists, as a kind of ceiling. there were two beds in the room, and a woman's gown was hung on a rope to make a curtain of separation between them. joseph had sheets, which my wife had sent with us, laid on them. we had much hesitation, whether to undress, or lie down with our clothes on. i said at last. 'i'll plunge in! there will be less harbour for vermin about me, when i am stripped!' dr johnson said, he was like one hesitating whether to go into the cold bath. at last he resolved too. i observed, he might serve a campaign. johnson. 'i could do all that can be done by patience: whether i should have strength enough, i know not.' he was in excellent humour. to see the rambler as i saw him tonight, was really an amusement. i yesterday told him, i was thinking of writing a poetical letter to him. on his return from scotland, in the stile of swift's humorous epistle in the character of mary gulliver to her husband, captain lemuel gulliver, on his return to england from the country of the houyhnhums: at early morn i to the market haste, studious in ev'ry thing to please thy taste. a curious fowl and sparagrass i chose; (for i remember you were fond of those:) three shillings cost the first, the last sev'n groats; sullen you turn from both, and call for oats. he laughed, and asked in whose name i would write it. i said, in mrs thrale's. he was angry. 'sir, if you have any sense of decency or delicacy, you won't do that!' boswell. 'then let it be in cole's, the landlord of the mitre tavern; where we have so often sat together.' johnson. 'ay, that may do.' after we had offered up our private devotions, and had chatted a little from our beds, dr johnson said, 'god bless us both, for jesus christ's sake! good night!' i pronounced 'amen.' he fell asleep immediately. i was not so fortunate for a long time. i fancied myself bit by innumerable vermin under the clothes; and that a spider was travelling from the wainscot towards my mouth. at last i fell into insensibility. wednesday, st september i awaked very early. i began to imagine that the landlord, being about to emigrate, might murder us to get our money, and lay it upon the soldiers in the barn. such groundless fears will arise in the mind, before it has resumed its vigour after sleep! dr johnson had had the same kind of ideas; for he told me afterwards, that he considered so many soldiers, having seen us, would be witnesses, should any harm be done, and that circumstance, i suppose, 'he considered as a security. when i got up, i found him sound asleep in his miserable stye, as i may call it, with a coloured handkerchief tied round his head. with difficulty could i awaken him. it reminded me of henry the fourth's fine soliloquy on sleep; for there was here as 'uneasy a pallet' as the poet's imagination could possibly conceive. a red coat of the th regiment, whether officer, or only serjeant, i could not be sure, came to the house, in his way to the mountains to shoot deer, which it seems the laird of glenmorison does not hinder any body to do. few, indeed, can do them harm. we had him to breakfast with us. we got away about eight. m'queen walked some miles to give us a convoy. he had, in , joined the highland army at fort augustus, and continued in it till after the battle of culloden. as he narrated the particulars of that ill-advised, but brave attempt, i could not refrain from tears. there is a certain association of ideas in my mind upon that subject, by which i am strongly affected. the very highland names, or the sound of a bagpipe; will stir my blood, and fill me with a mixture of melancholy and respect for courage; with pity for an unfortunate and superstitious regard for antiquity, and thoughtless inclination for war; in short, with a crowd of sensations with which sober rationality has nothing to do. we passed through glensheal, with prodigious mountains on each side. we saw where the battle was fought in the year ; dr johnson owned he was now in a scene of as wild nature as he could see; but he corrected me sometimes in my inaccurate observations. 'there,' said i, 'is a mountain like a cone.' johnson. 'no, sir. it would be called so in a book; and when a man comes to look at it, he sees it is not so. it is indeed pointed at the top; but one side of it is larger than the other.' another mountain i called immense. johnson. 'no; it is no more than a considerable protuberance.' we came to a rich green valley, comparatively speaking, and stopped a while to let our horses rest and eat grass. [footnote: dr johnson, in his journey, thus beautifully describes his situation here: 'i sat down on a bank, such as a writer of romance might have delighted to feign. i had, indeed, no trees to whisper over my head; but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. the day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude. before me, and on either side, were high hills, which, by hindering the eye from ranging, forced the mind to find entertainment for itself. whether i spent the hour well, i know not: for here i first conceived the thought of this narration.' the critical reviewers, with a spirit and expression worthy of the subject, say, 'we congratulate the publick on the event with which this quotation concludes, and are fully persuaded that the hour in which the entertaining traveller conceived this narrative will be considered, by every reader of taste, as a fortunate event in the annals of literature. were it suitable to the talk in which we are at present engaged, to indulge ourselves in a poetical flight, we would invoke the winds of the caledonian mountains to blow for ever, with their softest breezes, on the bank where our author reclined, and request of flora, that it might be perpetually adorned with the gayest and most fragrant productions of the year.'] we soon afterwards came to auchnasheal, a kind of rural village, a number of cottages being built together, as we saw all along in the highlands. we passed many miles this day without seeing a house, but only little summer-huts, called shielings. evan campbell, servant to mr murchison, factor to the laird of macleod in glenelg, ran along with us to-day. he was a very obliging fellow. at auchnasheal, we sat down on a green turf-seat at the end of a house; they brought us out two wooden dishes of milk, which we tasted. one of them was frothed like a syllabub. i saw a woman preparing it with such a stick as is used for chocolate, and in the same manner. we had a considerable circle about us, men, women and children, all m'craas, lord seaforth's people. not one of them could speak english. i observed to dr johnson, it was much the same as being with a tribe of indians. johnson. 'yes, sir; but not so terrifying.' i gave all who chose it, snuff and tobacco. governour trapaud had made us buy a quantity at fort augustus, and put them up in small parcels. i also gave each person a bit of wheat bread, which they had never tasted before. i then gave a penny apiece to each child. i told dr johnson of this; upon which he called to joseph and our guides, for change for a shilling, and declared that he would distribute among the children. upon this being announced in erse, there was a great stir; not only did some children come running down from neighbouring huts, but i observed one black-haired man, who had been with us all along, had gone off, and returned, bringing a very young child. my fellow traveller then ordered the children to be drawn up in a row; and he dealt about his copper, and made them and their parents all happy. the poor m'craas, whatever may be their present state, were of considerable estimation in the year , when there was a line in a song. and aw the brave m'craas are coming. [footnote: the m'craas, or macraes, were since that time brought into the king's army, by the late lord seaforth. when they lay in edinburgh castle in , and were ordered to embark for jersey, they with a number of other men in the regiment, for different reasons, but especially an apprehension that they were to be sold to the east-india company, though enlisted not to be sent out of great-britain without their own consent, made a determined mutiny and encamped upon the lofty mountain, arthur's seat, where they remained three days and three nights; bidding defiance to all the force in scotland. at last they came down, and embarked peaceably, having obtained formal articles of capitulation, signed by sir adolphus oughton, commander in chief, general skene, deputy commander, the duke of buccleugh, and the earl of dunmore, which quieted them. since the secession of the commons of rome to the mons sacer, a more spirited exertion has not been made. i gave great attention to it from first to last, and have drawn up a particular account of it. those brave fellows have since served their country effectually at jersey, and also in the east indies, to which, alter being better informed, they voluntarily agreed to go.] there was great diversity in the faces of the circle around us: some were as black and wild in their appearance as any american savages whatever. one woman was as comely almost as the figure of sappho, as we see it painted. we asked the old woman, the mistress of the house where we had the milk, (which by the bye, dr johnson told me, for i did not observe it myself, was built not of turf, but of stone,) what we should pay. she said, what we pleased. one of our guides asked her, in erse, if a shilling was enough. she said, 'yes.' but some of the men bade her ask more. this vexed me; because it shewed a desire to impose upon strangers, as they knew that even a shilling was high payment. the woman, however, honestly persisted in her price; so i gave her half a crown. thus we had one good scene of life uncommon to us. the people were very much pleased, gave us many blessings, and said they had not had such a day since the old laird of macleod's time. dr johnson was much refreshed by this repast. he was pleased when i told him he would make a good chief. he said, 'were i a chief, i would dress my servants better than myself, and knock a fellow down if he looked saucy to a macdonald in rags: but i would not treat men as brutes. i would let them know why all of my clan were to have attention paid to them. i would tell my upper servants why, and make them tell the others.' we rode on well, till we came to the high mountain called the rattakin, by which time both dr johnson and the horses were a good deal fatigued. it is a terrible steep climb, notwithstanding the road is formed slanting along it; however, we made it out. on the top of it we met captain m'leod of balmenoch (a dutch officer who had come from sky) riding with his sword slung across him. he asked, 'is this mr boswell?' which was a proof that we were expected. going down the hill on the other side was no easy task. as dr johnson was a great weight, the two guides agreed that he should ride the horses alternately. hay's were the two best, and the doctor would not ride but upon one or other of them, a black or a brown. but, as hay complained much after ascending the rattakin, the doctor was prevailed with to mount one of vass's greys. as he rode upon it down hill, it did not go well; and he grumbled. i walked on a little before, but was excessively entertained with the method taken to keep him in good humour. hay led the horse's head, talking to dr johnson as much as he could; and (having heard him, in the forenoon, express a pastoral pleasure on seeing the goats browzing) just when the doctor was uttering his displeasure, the fellow cried, with a very highland accent, 'see such pretty goats!' then he whistled, whu! and made them jump. little did he conceive what doctor johnson was. here now was a common ignorant highland clown imagining that he could divert, as one does a child, dr samuel johnson! the ludicrousness, absurdity, and extraordinary contrast between what the fellow fancied, and the reality, was truly comick. it grew dusky; and we had a very tedious ride for what was called five miles; but i am sure would measure ten. we had no conversation. i was riding forward to the inn at glenelg, on the shore opposite to sky, that i might take proper measures, before dr johnson, who was now advancing in dreary silence, hay leading his horse, should arrive. vass also walked by the side of his horse, and joseph followed behind: as therefore he was thus attended, and seemed to be in deep meditation, i thought there could be no harm in leaving him for a little while. he called me back with a tremendous shout, and was really in a passion with me for leaving him. i told him my intentions, but he was not satisfied, and said, 'do you know, i should as soon have thought of picking a pocket, as doing so.' boswell. 'i am diverted with you, sir.' johnson. 'sir, i could never be diverted with incivility. doing such a thing, makes one lose confidence in him who has done it, as one cannot tell what he may do next.' his extraordinary warmth confounded me so much, that i justified myself but lamely to him; yet my intentions were not improper. i wished to get on, to see how we were to be lodged, and how we were to get a boat; all which i thought i could best settle myself, without his having any trouble. to apply his great mind to minute particulars, is wrong: it is like taking an immense balance, such as is kept on quays for weighing cargoes of ships, to weigh a guinea. i knew i had neat little scales, which would do better; and that his attention to every thing which falls in his way, and his uncommon desire to be always in the right, would make him weigh, if he knew of the particulars: it was right therefore for me to weigh them, and let him have them only in effect. i however continued to ride by him, finding he wished i should do so. as we passed the barracks at bernea, i looked at them wishfully, as soldiers have always every thing in the best order: but there was only a serjeant and a few men there. we came on to the inn at glenelg. there was no provender for our horses: so they were sent to grass, with a man to watch them. a maid shewed us up stairs into a room damp and dirty, with bare walls, a variety of bad smells, a coarse black greasy fir table, and forms of the same kind; and out of a wretched bed started a fellow from his sleep, like edgar in king lear, 'poor tom's a-cold'. [footnote: it is amusing to observe the different images which this being presented to dr johnson and me. the doctor, in his journey, compares him to a cyclops.] this inn was furnished with not a single article that we could either eat or drink; but mr murchison, factor to the laird of macleod in glenelg, sent us a bottle of rum and some sugar, with a polite message, to acquaint us, that he was very sorry that he did not hear of us till we had passed his house, otherwise he should have insisted on our sleeping there that night; and that, if he were not obliged to set out for inverness early next morning, he would have waited upon us. such extraordinary attention from this gentleman, to entire strangers, deserves the most honourable commemoration. our bad accommodation here made me uneasy, and almost fretful. dr johnson was calm. i said, he was so from vanity. johnson. 'no, sir, it is from philosophy.' it pleased me to see that the rambler could practise so well his own lessons. i resumed the subject of my leaving him on the road, and endeavoured to defend it better. he was still violent upon that head, and said, 'sir, had you gone on, i was thinking that i should have returned with you to edinburgh, and then have parted from you, and never spoken to you more.' i sent for fresh hay, with which we made beds for ourselves, each in a room, equally miserable. like wolfe, we had a 'choice of difficulties'. dr johnson made things easier by comparison. at m'queen's, last night, he observed, that few were so well lodged in a ship. to-night he said, we were better than if we had been upon the hill. he lay down buttoned up in his great coat. i had my sheets spread on the hay, and my clothes and great coat laid over me, by way of blankets. thursday, d september i had slept ill. dr johnson's anger had affected me much. i considered that, without any bad intention, i might suddenly forfeit his friendship; and was impatient to see him this morning. i told him how uneasy he had made me, by what he had said, and reminded him of his own remark at aberdeen, upon old friendships being hastily broken off. he owned, he had spoken to me in passion; that he would not have done what he threatened; and that, if he had, he should have been ten times worse than i; that forming intimacies, would indeed be 'limning the water', were they liable to such sudden dissolution; and he added, 'let's think no more on't.' boswell. 'well then, sir, i shall be easy. remember, i am to have fair warning in case of any quarrel. you are never to spring a mine upon me. it was absurd in me to believe you.' johnson. 'you deserved about as much, as to believe me from night to morning.' after breakfast, we got into a boat for sky. it rained much when we set off, but cleared up as we advanced. one of the boatmen, who spoke english, said, that a mile at land was two miles at sea. i then observed, that from glenelg to armidale in sky, which was our present course, and is called twelve, was only six miles: but this he could not understand. 'well,' said dr johnson, 'never talk to me of the native good sense of the highlanders. here is a fellow who calls one mile two, and yet cannot comprehend that twelve such imaginary miles make in truth but six.' we reached the shore of armidale before one o'clock. sir alexander m'donald came down to receive us. he and his lady (formerly miss bosville of yorkshire) were then in a house built by a tenant at this place, which is in the district of slate, the family mansion here having been burned in sir donald macdonald's time. the most ancient seat of the chief of the macdonalds in the isle of sky was at duntulm, where there are the remains of a stately castle. the principal residence of the family is now at mugstot, at which there is a considerable building. sir alexander and lady macdonald had come to armidale in their way to edinburgh, where it was necessary for them to be soon after this time. armidale is situated on a pretty bay of the narrow sea, which flows between the main land of scotland and the isle of sky. in front there is a grand prospect of the rude mountains of moidart and knoidart. behind are hills gently rising and covered with a finer verdure than i expected to see in this climate, and the scene is enlivened by a number of little clear brooks. sir alexander macdonald having been an eton scholar, and being a gentleman of talents, dr johnson had been very well pleased with him in london. but my fellow traveller and i were now full of the old highland spirit, and were dissatisfied at hearing of racked rents and emigration; and finding a chief not surrounded by his clan. dr johnson said, 'sir, the highland chiefs should not be allowed to go farther south than aberdeen. a strong-minded man, like sir james macdonald, may be improved by an english education; but in general, they will be tamed into insignificance.' we found here mr janes of aberdeenshire, a naturalist. janes said he had been at dr johnson's in london, with ferguson the astronomer. johnson. 'it is strange that, in such distant places, i should meet with any one who knows me. i should have thought i might hide myself in sky.' friday, d september this day proving wet, we should have passed our time very uncomfortably, had we not found in the house two chests of books, which we eagerly ransacked. after dinner, when i alone was left at table with the few highland gentlemen who were of the company, having talked with very high respect of sir james macdonald, they were all so much affected as to shed tears. one of them was mr donald macdonald, who had been lieutenant of grenadiers in the highland regiment, raised by colonel montgomery, now earl of eglintoune, in the war before last; one of those regiments which the late lord chatham prided himself in having brought from 'the mountains of the north': by doing which he contributed to extinguish in the highlands the remains of disaffection to the present royal family. from this gentleman's conversation, i first learnt how very popular his colonel was among the highlanders; of which i had such continued proofs, during the whole course of my tour, that on my return i could not help telling the noble earl himself, that i did not before know how great a man he was. we were advised by some persons here to visit rasay, in our way to dunvegan, the seat of the laird of macleod. being informed that the rev. mr donald m'queen was the most intelligent man in sky, and having been favoured with a letter of introduction to him, by the learned sir james foulis, i sent it to him by an express, and requested he would meet us at rasay; and at the same time enclosed a letter to the laird of macleod, informing him that we intended in a few days to have the honour of waiting on him at dunvegan. dr johnson this day endeavoured to obtain some knowledge of the state of the country; but complained that he could get no distinct information about any thing, from those with whom he conversed. saturday, th september my endeavours to rouse the english-bred chieftain, in whose house we were, to the feudal and patriarchal feelings, proving ineffectual, dr johnson this morning tried to bring him to our way of thinking. johnson. 'were i in your place, sir, in seven years i would make this an independant island. i would roast oxen whole, and hang out a flag as a signal to the macdonalds to come and get beef and whisky.' sir alexander was still starting difficulties. johnson. 'nay, sir; if you are born to object, i have done with you. sir, i would have a magazine of arms.' sir alexander. 'they would rust.' johnson. 'let there be men to keep them clean. your ancestors did not use to let their arms rust.' we attempted in vain to communicate to him a portion of our enthusiasm. he bore with so polite a good-nature our warm, and what some might call gothick, expostulations, on this subject, that i should not forgive myself, were i to record all that dr johnson's ardour led him to say. this day was little better than a blank. sunday, th september i walked to the parish church of slate, which is a very poor one. there are no church bells in the island. i was told there were once some; what has become of them, i could not learn. the minister not being at home, there was no service. i went into the church and saw the monument of sir james macdonald, which was elegantly executed at rome, and has the following inscription, written by his friend, george lord lyttelton: to the memory of sir james macdonald, bart. who in the flower of youth, had attained to so eminent a degree of knowledge in mathematics, philosophy, languages, and in every other branch of useful and polite learning. as few have acquired in a long life wholly devoted to study: yet to this erudition he joined what can rarely be found with it. great talents for business, great propriety of behaviour, great politeness of manners! his eloquence was sweet, correct, and flowing; his memory vast and exact; his judgement strong and acute; all which endowments, united with the most amiable temper and every private virtue, procured him, not only in his own country, but also from foreign nations, the highest marks of esteem. in the year of our lord , the th of his life, after a long and extremely painful illness, which he supported with admirable patience and fortitude, he died at rome, where, notwithstanding the difference of religion. such extraordinary honours were paid to his memory, as had never graced that of any other british subject, since the death of sir philip sydney. the fame he left behind him is the best consolation to his afflicted family, and to his countrymen in this isle. for whose benefit he had planned many useful improvements, which his fruitful genius suggested. and his active spirit promoted. under the sober direction of a clear and enlightened understanding. reader, bewail our loss, and that of all britain. in testimony of her love, and as the best return she can make to her departed son. for the constant tenderness and affection which, even to his last moments, he shewed for her. his much afflicted mother. the lady margaret macdonald, daughter to the earl of eglintoune, erected this monument, a.d. . [footnote: this extraordinary young man, whom i had the pleasure of knowing intimately, having been deeply regretted by his country, the most minute particulars concerning him must be interesting to many. i shall therefore insert his two last letters to his mother. lady margaret macdonald, which her ladyship has been pleased to communicate to me. rome, july th, . my dear mother, yesterday's post brought me your answer to the first letter in which i acquainted you of my illness. your tenderness and concern upon that account are the same i have always experienced, and to which i have often owed my life. indeed it never was in so great danger as it has been lately; and though it would have been a very great comfort to me to have had you near me, yet perhaps i ought to rejoice, on your account, that you had not the pain of such a spectacle. i have been now a week in rome, and wish i could continue to give you the same good accounts of my recovery as i did in my last: but i must own that for three days past. i have been in a very weak and miserable state, which however seems to give no uneasiness to my physician. my stomach has been greatly out of order, without any visible cause; and the palpitation does not decrease. i am told that my stomach will soon recover its tone, and that the palpitation must cease in time. so i am willing to believe; and with this hope support the little remains of spirits which i can be supposed to have, on the forty-seventh day of such an illness. do not imagine i have relapsed--i only recover slower than i expected. if my letter is shorter than usual, the cause of it is a dose of physick, which has weakened me so much to-day, that i am not able to write a long letter. i will make up for it next post, and remain always your most sincerely affectionate son, j. macdonald. he grew gradually worse; and on the night before his death he wrote as follows from frescati: my dear mother, though i did not mean to deceive you in my last letter from rome, yet certainly you would have very little reason to conclude of the very great and constant danger i have gone through ever since that time. my life, which is still almost entirely desperate, did not at that time appear to me so, otherwise i should have represented, in its true colours, a fact which acquires very little horror by that means, and comes with redoubled force by deception. there is no circumstance of danger and pain of which i have not had the experience, for a continued series of above a fortnight; during which time i have settled my affairs, after my death, with as much distinctness as the hurry and the nature of the thing could admit of. in case of the worst, the abbe grant will be my executor in this part of the world, and mr mackenzie in scotland, where my object has been to make you and my younger brother as independent of the eldest as possible.] dr johnson said, the inscription should have been in latin, as every thing intended to be universal and permanent, should be. this being a beautiful day, my spirits were cheered by the mere effect of climate. i had felt a return of spleen during my stay at armidale, and had it not been that i had dr johnson to contemplate, i should have sunk into dejection; but his firmness supported me. i looked at him, as a man whose head is turning giddy at sea looks at a rock, or any fixed object. i wondered at his tranquillity. he said, 'sir, when a man retires into an island, he is to turn his thoughts intirely to another world. he has done with this.' boswell. 'it appears to me, sir, to be very difficult to unite a due attention to this world, and that which is to come; for, if we engage eagerly in the affairs of life, we are apt to be totally forgetful of a future state; and, on the other hand, a steady contemplation of the awful concerns of eternity renders all objects here so insignificant, as to make us indifferent and negligent about them.' johnson. 'sir, dr cheyne has laid down a rule to himself on this subject, which should be imprinted on every mind: "to neglect nothing to secure my eternal peace, more than if i had been certified i should die within the day: nor to mind any thing that my secular obligations and duties demanded of me, less than if i had been ensured to live fifty years more." i must here observe, that though dr johnson appeared now to be philosophically calm, yet his genius did not shine forth as in companies, where i have listened to him with admiration. the vigour of his mind was, however, sufficiently manifested, by his discovering no symptoms of feeble relaxation in the dull, 'weary, flat and unprofitable' state in which we now were placed. i am inclined to think that it was on this day he composed the following ode upon the isle of sky, which a few days afterwards he shewed me at raysay: oda ponti profundis clausa recessibus, strepens procellis, rupibus obsita, quam grata defesso virentem skia sinum nebulosa pandis. his cura, credo, sedibus exulat; his blanda certe pax habitat locis: non ira, non moeror quietis insidias meditatur horis. at non cavata rupe latescere, menti nec aegrae montibus aviis prodest vagari, nec frementes e scopulo numerare fluctus humana virtus non sibi sufficit, datur nee aequum cuique animum sibi parare posse, ut stoicorum secta crepet nimis alta fallax. exaestuantis pectoris impetum. rex summe, solus tu regis arbiter, mentisque, te tollente, surgunt, te recidunt moderante fluctus. [footnote: various readings. line . in the manuscript. dr johnson, instead of rupibus obsita, had written imbribus uvida. and uvida nubibus, but struck them both out. lines & . instead of these two lines, he had written, but afterwards struck out, the following: parare posse, utcunque jactet grandiloquus nimis alta zeno.] after supper, dr johnson told us, that isaac hawkins browne drank freely for thirty years, and that he wrote his poem, de animi immortalitate, in some of the last of these years. i listened to this with the eagerness of one, who, conscious of being himself fond of wine, is glad to hear that a man of so much genius and good thinking as browne had the same propensity. monday, th september we set out, accompanied by mr donald m'leod (late of canna) as our guide. we rode for some time along the district of slate, near the shore. the houses in general are made of turf, covered with grass. the country seemed well peopled. we came into the district of strath, and passed along a wild moorish tract of land till we arrived at the shore. there we found good verdure, and some curious whin-rocks, or collections of stones like the ruins of the foundations of old buildings. we saw also three cairns of considerable size. about a mile beyond broadfoot, is corrichatachin, a farm of sir alexander macdonald's, possessed by mr m'kinnon, [footnote: that my readers may have my narrative in the style of the country through which i am travelling, it is proper to inform them, that the chief of a clan is denominated by his surname alone, as m'leod, m'kinnon. m'intosh. to prefix mr to it would be a degradation from the m'leod, &c. my old friend, the laird of m'farlane, the great antiquary, took it highly amiss, when general wade called him mr m'farlane. dr johnson said, he could not bring himself to use this mode of address: it seemed to him to be too familiar, as it is the way in which, in all other places, intimates or inferiors are addressed. when the chiefs have titles, they are denominated by them, as sir james grant. sir allan m'lean. the other highland gentlemen, of landed property, are denominated by their estates, as rasay, boisdale; and the wives of all of them have the title of ladies. the tacksmen, or principal tenants, are named by their farms, as kingsburgh, corrichatachin; and their wives are called the mistress of kingsburgh, the mistress of corrichatachin. having given this explanation, i am at liberty to use that mode of speech which generally prevails in the highlands and the hebrides.] who received us with a hearty welcome, as did his wife, who was what we call in scotland a lady-like woman. mr pennant, in the course of his tour to the hebrides, passed two nights at this gentleman's house. on its being mentioned, that a present had here been made to him of a curious specimen of highland antiquity, dr johnson said, 'sir, it was more than he deserved: the dog is a whig.' we here enjoyed the comfort of a table plentifully furnished, the satisfaction of which was heightened by a numerous and cheerful company; and we for the first time had a specimen of the joyous social manners of the inhabitants of the highlands. they talked in their own ancient language, with fluent vivacity, and sung many erse songs with such spirit, that, though dr johnson was treated with the greatest respect and attention, there were moments in which he seemed to be forgotten. for myself, though but a lowlander, having picked up a few words of the language, i presumed to mingle in their mirth, and joined in the choruses with as much glee as any of the company. dr johnson being fatigued with his journey, retired early to his chamber, where he composed the following ode, addressed to mrs thrale: oda permeo terras, ubi nuda rupes saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas, torva ubi rident steriles coloni rura labores. pervagor gentes, hominum ferorum vita ubi nullo decorata cultu squallet informis, tugurique fumis foeda latescit. inter erroris salebrosa longi, inter ignotae strepitus loquelae, quot modis mecum, quid agat, requiro, thralia dulcis seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet, seu fovet mater sobolem benigna. sive cum libris novitate pascet sedula mentem; sit memor nostri, fideique merces, stet fides constans, meritoque blandum thraliae discant resonare nomen littora skiae. scriptum in skia, sept. , . tuesday, th september dr johnson was much pleased with his entertainment here. there were many good books in the house: hector boethius in latin; cave's lives of the fathers; baker's chronicle; jeremy collier's church history; dr johnson's small dictionary; craufurd's officers of state, and several more: a mezzotinto of mrs brooks the actress (by some strange chance in sky); and also a print of macdonald of clanranald, with a latin inscription about the cruelties after the battle of culloden, which will never be forgotten. it was a very wet stormy day; we were therefore obliged to remain here, it being impossible to cross the sea to rasay. i employed a part of the forenoon in writing this journal. the rest of it was somewhat dreary, from the gloominess of the weather, and the uncertain state which we were in, as we could not tell but it might clear up every hour. nothing is more painful to the mind than a state of suspence, especially when it depends upon the weather, concerning which there can be so little calculation. as dr johnson said of our weariness on the monday at aberdeen, 'sensation is sensation.' corrichatachin, which was last night a hospitable house, was, in my mind, changed to-day into a prison. after dinner i read some of dr macpherson's dissertations on the ancient caledonians. i was disgusted by the unsatisfactory conjectures as to antiquity, before the days of record. i was happy when tea came. such, i take it, is the state of those who live in the country. meals are wished for from the cravings of vacuity of mind, as well as from the desire of eating. i was hurt to find even such a temporary feebleness, and that i was so far from being that robust wise man who is sufficient for his own happiness. i felt a kind of lethargy of indolence. i did not exert myself to get dr johnson to talk, that i might not have the labour of writing down his conversation. he inquired here, if there were any remains of the second sight. mr m'pherson, minister of slate, said, he was resolved not to believe it, because it was founded on no principle. johnson. 'there are many things then, which we are sure are true, that you will not believe. what principle is there, why a loadstone attracts iron? why an egg produces a chicken by heat? why a tree grows upwards, when the natural tendency of all things is downwards? sir, it depends upon the degree of evidence that you have.' young mr m'kinnon mentioned one m'kenzie, who is still alive, who had often fainted in his presence, and when he recovered, mentioned visions which had been presented to him. he told mr m'kinnon, that at such a place he should meet a funeral, and that such and such people would be the bearers, naming four; and three weeks afterwards he saw what m'kenzie had predicted. the naming the very spot in a country where a funeral comes a long way, and the very people as bearers, when there are so many out of whom a choice may be made, seems extraordinary. we should have sent for m'kenzie, had we not been informed that he could speak no english. besides, the facts were not related with sufficient accuracy. mrs m'kinnon, who is a daughter of old kingsburgh, told us that her father was one day riding in sky, and some women, who were at work in a field on the side of the road, said to him, they had heard two taiscks (that is, two voices of persons about to die), and what was remarkable, one of them was an english taisck, which they never heard before. when he returned, he at that very place met two funerals, and one of them was that of a woman who had come from the main land, and could speak only english. this, she remarked, made a great impression upon her father. how all the people here were lodged, i know not. it was partly done by separating man and wife, and putting a number of men in one room, and of women in another. wednesday, th september when i waked, the rain was much heavier than yesterday; but the wind had abated. by breakfast, the day was better, and in a little while it was calm and clear. i felt my spirits much elated. the propriety of the expression, 'the sunshine of the breast', now struck me with peculiar force; for the brilliant rays penetrated into my very soul. we were all in better humour than before. mrs m'kinnon, with unaffected hospitality and politeness, expressed her happiness in having such company in her house, and appeared to understand and relish dr johnson's conversation, as indeed all the company seemed to do. when i knew she was old kingsburgh's daughter, i did not wonder at the good appearance which she made. she talked as if her husband and family would emigrate, rather than be oppressed by their landlord; and said, 'how agreeable would it be, if these gentlemen should come in upon us when we are in america'. somebody observed that sir alexander macdonald was always frightened at sea. johnson. 'he is frightened at sea; and his tenants are frightened when he comes to land.' we resolved to set out directly after breakfast. we had about two miles to ride to the sea-side, and there we expected to get one of the boats belonging to the fleet of bounty herring-busses then on the coast, or at least a good country fishing-boat. but while we were preparing to set out, there arrived a man with the following card from the reverend mr donald m'queen: mr m'queen's compliments to mr boswell, and begs leave to acquaint him that, fearing the want of a proper boat, as much as the rain of yesterday, might have caused a stop, he is now at skianwden with macgillichallum's [footnote: the highland expression for laird of rasay.] carriage, to convey him and dr johnson to rasay, where they will meet with a most hearty welcome, and where macleod, being on a visit, now attends their motions.--wednesday afternoon. this card was most agreeable; it was a prologue to that hospitable and truly polite reception which we found at rasay. in a little while arrived mr donald m'queen himself; a decent minister, an elderly man with his own black hair, courteous, and rather slow of speech, but candid, sensible and well informed, nay learned. along with him came, as our pilot, a gentleman whom i had a great desire to see, mr malcolm macleod, one of the rasay family, celebrated in the year - . he was now sixty-two years of age, hale, and well proportioned, with a manly countenance, tanned by the weather, yet having a ruddiness in his cheeks, over a great part of which his rough beard extended. his eye was quick and lively, yet his look was not fierce, but he appeared at once firm and good-humoured. he wore a pair of brogues, tartan hose which came up only near to his knees, and left them bare, a purple camblet kilt, a black waistcoat, a short green cloth coat bound with gold cord, a yellowish bushy wig, a large blue bonnet with a gold thread button. i never saw a figure that gave a more perfect representation of a highland gentleman. i wished much to have a picture of him just as he was. i found him frank and polite, in the true sense of the word. the good family at corrichatachin said, they hoped to see us on our return. we rode down to the shore; but malcolm walked with graceful agility. we got into rasay's carriage, which was a good strong open boat made in norway. the wind had now risen pretty high, and was against us; but we had four stout rowers, particularly a macleod, a robust, black-haired fellow, half naked, and bear-headed, something between a wild indian and an english tar. dr johnson sat high on the stern, like a magnificent triton. malcolm sung an erse song, the chorus of which was 'hatyin foam foam eri', with words of his own. the tune resembled 'owr the muir amang the heather', the boatmen and mr m'queen chorused, and all went well. at length malcolm himself took an oar, and rowed vigorously. we sailed along the coast of scalpa, a rugged island, about four miles in length. dr johnson proposed that he and i should buy it, and found a good school, and an episcopal church (malcolm said, he would come to it), and have a printing-press, where he would print all the erse that could be found. here i was strongly struck with our long projected scheme of visiting the hebrides being realized. i called to him, 'we are contending with seas;' which i think were the words of one of his letters to me. 'not much,' said he; and though the wind made the sea lash considerably upon us, he was not discomposed. after we were out of the shelter of scalpa, and in the sound between it and rasay, which extended about a league, the wind made the sea very rough. i did not like it. johnson. 'this now is the atlantick. if i should tell at a tea table in london, that i have crossed the atlantick in an open boat, how they'd shudder, and what a fool they'd think me to expose myself to such danger.' he then repeated horace's ode, otium divos rogat in patenti prensus aegaeo... in the confusion and hurry of this boisterous sail, dr johnson's spurs, of which joseph had charge, were carried over-board into the sea, and lost. this was the first misfortune that had befallen us. dr johnson was a little angry at first, observing that 'there was something wild in letting a pair of spurs be carried into the sea out of a boat'; but then he remarked, that, as janes the naturalist had said upon losing his pocket book, it was rather an inconvenience than a loss. he told us, he now recollected that he dreamt the night before, that he put his staff into a river, and chanced to let it go, and it was carried down the stream and lost. 'so now you see,' said he, 'that i have lost my spurs; and this story is better than many of those which we have concerning second sight and dreams.' mr m'queen said he did not believe in second sight; that he never met with any well attested instances; and if he should, he should impute them to chance; because all who pretend to that quality often fail in their predictions, though they take a great scope, and sometimes interpret literally, sometimes figuratively, so as to suit the events. he told us, that, since he came to be minister of the parish where he now is, the belief of witchcraft, or charms, was very common, insomuch that he had many prosecutions before his session (the parochial ecclesiastical court) against women, for having by these means carried off the milk from people's cows. he disregarded them; and there is not now the least vestige of that superstition. he preached against it; and in order to give a strong proof to the people that there was nothing in it, he said from the pulpit, that every woman in the parish was welcome to take the milk from his cows, provided she did not touch them. dr johnson asked him as to fingal. he said he could repeat some passages in the original, that he heard his grandfather had a copy of it; but that he could not affirm that ossian composed all that poem as it is now published. this came pretty much to what dr johnson had maintained; though he goes farther, and contends that it is no better than such an epick poem as he could make from the song of robin hood; that is to say, that, except a few passages, there is nothing truly ancient but the names and some vague traditions. mr m'queen alledged that homer was made up of detached fragments. dr johnson denied this; observing, that it had been one work originally, and that you could not put a book of the iliad out of its place; and he believed the same might be said of the odyssey. the approach to rasay was very pleasing. we saw before us a beautiful bay, well defended by a rocky coast; a good family mansion; a fine verdure about it, with a considerable number of trees; and beyond it hills and mountains in gradation of wildness. our boatmen sung with great spirit. dr johnson observed, that naval musick was very ancient. as we came near the shore, the singing of our rowers was succeeded by that of reapers, who were busy at work, and who seemed to shout as much as to sing, while they worked with a bounding activity. just as we landed, i observed a cross, or rather the ruins of one, upon a rock, which had to me a pleasing vestige of religion. i perceived a large company coming out from the house. we met them as we walked up. there were rasay himself; his brother dr macleod; his nephew the laird of m'kinnon; the laird of macleod; colonel macleod of talisker, an officer in the dutch service, a very genteel man, and a faithful branch of the family; mr macleod of muiravenside, best known by the name of sandie macleod, who was long in exile on account of the part which he took in ; and several other persons. we were welcomed upon the green, and conducted into the house, where we were introduced to lady rasay, who was surrounded by a numerous family, consisting of three sons and ten daughters. the laird of rasay is a sensible, polite, and most hospitable gentleman. i was told that his island of rasay, and that of rona (from which the eldest son of the family has his title), and a considerable extent of land which he has in sky, do not altogether yield him a very large revenue: and yet he lives in great splendour; and so far is he from distressing his people, that, in the present rage for emigration, not a man has left his estate. it was past six o'clock when we arrived. some excellent brandy was served round immediately, according to the custom of the highlands, where a dram is generally taken every day. they call it a scatch. on a side-board was placed for us, who had come off the sea, a substantial dinner, and a variety of wines. then we had coffee and tea. i observed in the room several elegantly bound books and other marks of improved life. soon afterwards a fiddler appeared, and a little ball began. rasay himself danced with as much spirit as any man, and malcolm bounded like a roe. sandie macleod, who has at times an excessive flow of spirits, and had it now, was, in his days of absconding, known by the name of m'cruslick, which it seems was the designation of a kind of wild man in the highlands, something between proteus and don quixotte; and so he was called here. he made much jovial noise. dr johnson was so delighted with this scene, that he said, 'i know not how we shall get away.' it entertained me to observe him sitting by, while we danced, sometimes in deep meditation, sometimes smiling complacently, sometimes looking upon hooke's roman history, and sometimes talking a little amidst the noise of the ball, to mr donald m'queen, who anxiously gathered knowledge from him. he was pleased with m'queen and said to me, 'this is a critical man, sir. there must be great vigour of mind to make him cultivate learning so much in the isle of sky, where he might do without it. it is wonderful how many of the new publications he has. there must be a snatch of every opportunity.' mr m'queen told me that his brother (who is the fourth generation of the family following each other as ministers of the parish of snizort) and he joined together, and bought from time to time such books as had reputation. soon after we came in, a black cock and grey hen, which had been shot, were shewn, with their feathers on, to dr johnson, who had never seen that species of bird before. we had a company of thirty at supper; and all was good humour and gaiety, without intemperance. thursday, th september at breakfast this morning, among a profusion of other things, there were oat-cakes, made of what is called graddaned meal, that is, meal made of grain separated from the husks, and toasted by fire, instead of being threshed and kiln dried. this seems to be bad management, as so much fodder is consumed by it. mr m'queen however defended it, by saying, that it is doing the thing much quicker, as one operation effects what is otherwise done by two. his chief reason however was, that the servants of sky are, according to him, a faithless pack, and steal what they can; so that much is saved by the corn passing but once through their hands, as at each time they pilfer some. it appears to me, that the graddaning is a strong proof of the laziness of the highlanders, who will rather make fire act for them, at the expence of fodder, than labour themselves. there was also, what i cannot help disliking at breakfast, cheese: it is the custom over all the highlands to have it; and it often smells very strong, and poisons to a certain degree the elegance of an indian repast. the day was showery; however, rasay and i took a walk, and had some cordial conversation. i conceived a more than ordinary regard for this worthy gentleman. his family has possessed this island above four hundred years. it is the remains of the estate of macleod of lewis, whom he represents. when we returned, dr johnson walked with us to see the old chapel. he was in fine spirits. he said, 'this is truely the patriarchal life: this is what we came to find.' after dinner, m'cruslick, malcolm, and i, went out with guns, to try if we could find any black-cock; but we had no sport, owing to a heavy rain. i saw here what is called a danish fort. our evening was passed as last night was. one of our company, i was told, had hurt himself by too much study, particularly of infidel metaphysicians, of which he gave a proof, on second sight being mentioned. he immediately retailed some of the fallacious arguments of voltaire and hume against miracles in general. infidelity in a highland gentleman appeared to me peculiarly offensive. i was sorry for him, as he had otherwise a good character. i told dr johnson that he had studied himself into infidelity. johnson. 'then he must study himself out of it again. that is the way. drinking largely will sober him again.' friday, th september having resolved to explore the island of rasay, which could be done only on foot, i last night obtained my fellow-traveller's permission to leave him for a day, he being unable to take so hardy a walk. old mr malcolm m'cleod, who had obligingly promised to accompany me, was at my bedside between five and six. i sprang up immediately, and he and i, attended by two other gentlemen, traversed the country during the whole of this day. though we had passed over not less than four-and-twenty miles of very rugged ground, and had a highland dance on the top of dun can, the highest mountain in the island, we returned in the evening not at all fatigued, and piqued ourselves at not being outdone at the nightly ball by our less active friends, who had remained at home. my survey of rasay did not furnish much which can interest my readers; i shall therefore put into as short a compass as i can, the observations upon it, which i find registered in my journal. it is about fifteen english miles long, and four broad. on the south side is the laird's family seat, situated on a pleasing low spot. the old tower of three stories, mentioned by martin, was taken down soon after , and a modern house supplies its place. there are very good grass-fields and corn-lands about it, well dressed. i observed, however, hardly any inclosures, except a good garden plentifully stocked with vegetables, and strawberries, raspberries, currants, &c. on one of the rocks just where we landed, which are not high, there is rudely carved a square, with a crucifix in the middle. here, it is said, the lairds of rasay, in old times, used to offer up their devotions. i could not approach the spot, without a grateful recollection of the event commemorated by this symbol. a little from the shore, westward, is a kind of subterraneous house. there has been a natural fissure, or separation of the rock, running towards the sea, which has been roofed over with long stones, and above them turf has been laid. in that place the inhabitants used to keep their oars. there are a number of trees near the house, which grow well; some of them of a pretty good size. they are mostly plane and ash. a little to the west of the house is an old ruinous chapel, unroofed, which never has been very curious. we here saw some human bones of an uncommon size. there was a heel-bone, in particular, which dr macleod said was such, that if the foot was in proportion, it must have been twenty-seven inches long. dr johnson would not look at the bones. he started back from them with a striking appearance of horrour. mr m'queen told us, it was formerly much the custom, in these isles, to have human bones lying above ground, especially in the windows of churches. on the south of the chapel is the family burying place. above the door, on the east end of it, is a small bust or image of the virgin mary, carved upon a stone which makes part of the wall. there is no church upon the island. it is annexed to one of the parishes of sky; and the minister comes and preaches either in rasay's house, or some other house, on certain sundays. i could not but value the family seat more, for having even the ruins of a chapel close to it. there was something comfortable in the thought of being so near a piece of consecrated ground. dr johnson said, 'i look with reverence upon every place that has been set apart for religion'; and he kept off his hat while he was within the walls of the chapel. the eight crosses, which martin mentions as pyramids for deceased ladies, stood in a semicircular line, which contained within it the chapel. they marked out the boundaries of the sacred territory within which an asylum was to be had. one of them, which we observed upon our landing, made the first point of the semicircle. there are few of them now remaining. a good way farther north, there is a row of buildings about four feet high: they run from the shore on the east along the top of a pretty high eminence, and so down to the shore on the west, in much the same direction with the crosses. rasay took them to be the marks for the asylum; but malcolm thought them to be false sentinels, a common deception, of which instances occur in martin, to make invaders imagine an island better guarded. mr donald m'queen, justly in my opinion, supposed the crosses which form the inner circle to be the church's land-marks. the south end of the island is much covered with large stones or rocky strata. the laird has enclosed and planted part of it with firs, and he shewed me a considerable space marked out for additional plantations. dun can is a mountain three computed miles from the laird's house. the ascent to it is by consecutive risings, if that expression may be used when vallies intervene, so that there is but a short rise at once; but it is certainly very high above the sea. the palm of altitude is disputed for by the people of rasay and those of sky; the former contending for dun can, the latter for the mountains in sky, over against it. we went up the east side of dun can pretty easily. it is mostly rocks all around, the points of which hem the summit of it. sailors, to whom it is a good object as they pass along, call it rasay's cap. before we reached this mountain, we passed by two lakes. of the first, malcolm told me a strange fabulous tradition. he said, there was a wild beast in it, a sea-horse, which came and devoured a man's daughter; upon which the man lighted a great fire, and had a sow roasted at it, the smell of which attracted the monster. in the fire was put a spit. the man lay concealed behind a low wall of loose stones, and he had an avenue formed for the monster, with two rows of large flat stones, which extended from the fire over the summit of the hill, till it reached the side of the loch. the monster came, and the man with the red-hot spit destroyed it. malcolm shewed me the little hiding-place, and the rows of stones. he did not laugh when he told this story. i recollect having seen in the scots magazine, several years ago, a poem upon a similar tale, perhaps the same, translated from the erse, or irish, called albin and the daughter of mey. there is a large tract of land, possessed as a common, in rasay. they have no regulations as to the number of cattle. every man puts upon it as many as he chooses. from dun can northward, till you reach the other end of the island, there is much good natural pasture unincumbered by stones. we passed over a spot, which is appropriated for the exercising ground. in , a hundred fighting men were reviewed here, as malcolm told me, who was one of the officers that led them to the field. they returned home all but about fourteen. what a princely thing is it to be able to furnish such a band! rasay has the true spirit of a chief. he is, without exaggeration, a father to his people. there is plenty of lime-stone in the island, a great quarry of free-stone, and some natural woods, but none of any age, as they cut the trees for common country uses. the lakes, of which there are many, are well stocked with trout. malcolm catched one of four-and-twenty pounds weight in the loch next to dun can, which, by the way, is certainly a danish name, as most names of places in these islands are. the old castle, in which the family of rasay formerly resided, is situated upon a rock very near the sea: the rock is not one mass of stone, but a concretion of pebbles and earth, so firm that it does not appear to have mouldered. in this remnant of antiquity i found nothing worthy of being noticed, except a certain accommodation rarely to be found at the modern houses of scotland, and which dr johnson and i fought for in vain at the laird of rasay's new-built mansion, where nothing else was wanting. i took the liberty to tell the laird it was a shame there should be such a deficiency in civilized times. he acknowledged the justice of the remark. but perhaps some generations may pass before the want is supplied. dr johnson observed to me, how quietly people will endure an evil, which they might at any time very easily remedy; and mentioned as an instance, that the present family of rasay had possessed the island for more than four-hundred years, and never made a commodious landing place, though a few men with pickaxes might have cut an ascent of stairs out of any part of the rock in a week's time. the north end of rasay is as rocky as the south end. from it i saw the little isle of fladda, belonging to rasay, all fine green ground; and rona, which is of so rocky a soil that it appears to be a pavement. i was told however that it has a great deal of grass, in the interstices. the laird has it all in his own hands. at this end of the island of rasay is a cave in a striking situation. it is in a recess of a great cleft, a good way up from the sea. before it the ocean roars, being dashed against monstrous broken rocks; grand and aweful propugnacula. on the right hand of it is a longitudinal cave, very low at the entrance, but higher as you advance. the sea having scooped it out, it seems strange and unaccountable that the interior part, where the water must have operated with less force, should be loftier than that which is more immediately exposed to its violence. the roof of it is all covered with a kind of petrifications formed by drops, which perpetually distil from it. the first cave has been a place of much safety. i find a great difficulty in describing visible objects. i must own too that the old castle and cave, like many other things, of which one hears much, did not answer my expectations. people are every where apt to magnify the curiosities of their country. this island has abundance of black cattle, sheep, and goats; a good many horses, which are used for ploughing, carrying out dung, and other works of husbandry. i believe the people never ride. there are indeed no roads through the island, unless a few detached beaten tracks deserve that name. most of the houses are upon the shore; so that all the people have little boats, and catch fish. there is great plenty of potatoes here. there are black-cock in extraordinary abundance, moor-fowl, plover and wild pigeons, which seemed to me to be the same as we have in pigeon-houses, in their state of nature. rasay has no pigeon-house. there are no hares nor rabbits in the island, nor was there ever known to be a fox, till last year, when one was landed on it by some malicious person, without whose aid he could not have got thither, as that animal is known to be a very bad swimmer. he has done much mischief. there is a great deal of fish caught in the sea round rasay; it is a place where one may live in plenty, and even in luxury. there are no deer; but rasay told us he would get some. they reckon it rains nine months in the year in this island, owing to its being directly opposite to the western coast of sky, where the watery clouds are broken by high mountains. the hills here, and indeed all the healthy grounds in general, abound with the sweet-smelling plant which the highlanders call gaul, and (i think) with dwarf juniper in many places. there is enough of turf, which is their fuel, and it is thought there is a mine of coal. such are the observations which i made upon the island of rasay, upon comparing it with the description given by martin, whose book we had with us. there has been an ancient league between the families of macdonald and rasay. whenever the head of either family dies, his sword is given to the head of the other. the present rasay has the late sir james macdonald's sword. old rasay joined the highland army in , but prudently guarded against a forfeiture, by previously conveying his estate to the present gentleman, his eldest son. on that occasion, sir alexander, father of the late sir james macdonald, was very friendly to his neighbour. 'don't be afraid, rasay,' said he; 'i'll use all my interest to keep you safe; and if your estate should be taken, i'll buy it for the family.' and he would have done it. let me now gather some gold dust--some more fragments of dr johnson's conversation, without regard to order of time. he said, he thought very highly of bentley; that no man now went so far in the kinds of learning that he cultivated; that the many attacks on him were owing to envy, and to a desire of being known, by being in competition with such a man; that it was safe to attack him, because he never answered his opponents, but let them die away. it was attacking a man who would not beat them, because his beating them would make them live the longer. and he was right not to answer; for, in his hazardous method of writing, he could not but be often enough wrong; so it was better to leave things to their general appearance, than own himself to have erred in particulars. he said, mallet was the prettiest drest puppet about town, and always kept good company. that, from his way of talking, he saw, and always said, that he had not written any part of the life of the duke of marlborough, though perhaps he intended to do it at some time, in which case he was not culpable in taking the pension. that he imagined the duchess furnished the materials for her apology, which hooke wrote, and hooke furnished the words and the order, and all that in which the art of writing consists. that the duchess had not superior parts, but was a bold frontless woman, who knew how to make the most of her opportunities in life. that hooke got a large sum of money for writing her apology. that he wondered hooke should have been weak enough to insert so profligate a maxim, as that to tell another's secret to one's friend, is no breach of confidence; though perhaps hooke, who was a virtuous man, as his history shews, and did not wish her well, though he wrote her apology, might see its ill tendency, and yet insert it at her desire. he was acting only ministerially. i apprehend, however, that hooke was bound to give his best advice. i speak as a lawyer. though i have had clients whose causes i could not, as a private man, approve; yet, if i undertook them, i would not do any thing that might be prejudicial to them, even at their desire, without warning them of their danger. saturday, th september it was a storm of wind and rain; so we could not set out. i wrote some of this journal, and talked awhile with dr johnson in his room, and passed the day, i cannot well say how, but very pleasantly. i was here amused to find mr cumberland's comedy of the fashionable lover, in which he has very well drawn a highland character, colin m'cleod, of the same name with the family under whose roof we now were. dr johnson was much pleased with the laird of macleod, who is indeed a most promising youth, and with a noble spirit struggles with difficulties, and endeavours to preserve his people. he has been left with an incumbrance of forty thousand pounds debt, and annuities to the amount of thirteen hundred pounds a year. dr johnson said, 'if he gets the better of all this, he'll be a hero; and i hope he will. i have not met with a young man who had more desire to learn, or who has learnt more. i have seen nobody that i wish more to do a kindness to than macleod.' such was the honourable elogium, on this young chieftain, pronounced by an accurate observer, whose praise was never lightly bestowed. there is neither justice of peace, nor constable in rasay. sky has mr m'cleod of ulinish, who is the sheriff substitute, and no other justice of peace. the want of the execution of justice is much felt among the islanders. macleod very sensibly observed, that taking away the heritable jurisdictions had not been of such service in the islands, as was imagined. they had not authority enough in lieu of them. what could formerly have been settled at once, must now either take much time and trouble, or be neglected. dr johnson said, 'a country is in a bad state, which is governed only by laws; because a thousand things occur for which laws cannot provide, and where authority ought to interpose. now destroying the authority of the chiefs set the people loose. it did not pretend to bring any positive good, but only to cure some evil; and i am not well enough acquainted with the country to know what degree of evil the heritable jurisdictions occasioned.' i maintained hardly any; because the chiefs generally acted right, for their own sakes. dr johnson was now wishing to move. there was not enough of intellectual entertainment for him, after he had satisfyed his curiosity, which he did, by asking questions, till he had exhausted the island; and where there was so numerous a company, mostly young people, there was such a flow of familiar talk, so much noise, and so much singing and dancing, that little opportunity was left for his energetick conversation. he seemed sensible of this; for when i told him how happy they were at having him there, he said, 'yet we have not been able to entertain them much.' i was fretted, from irritability of nerves, by m'cruslick's too obstreperous mirth. i complained of it to my friend, observing we should be better if he was gone. 'no, sir,' said he. 'he puts something into our society, and takes nothing out of it.' dr johnson, however, had several opportunities of instructing the company; but i am sorry to say, that i did not pay sufficient attention to what passed, as his discourse now turned chiefly on mechanicks, agriculture and such subjects, rather than on science and wit. last night lady rasay shewed him the operation of wawking cloth, that is, thickening it in the same manner as is done by a mill. here it is performed by women, who kneel upon the ground, and rub it with both their hands, singing an erse song all the time. he was asking questions while they were performing this operation, and, amidst their loud and wild howl, his voice was heard even in the room above. they dance here every night. the queen of our ball was the eldest miss macleod, of rasay, an elegant well-bred woman, and celebrated for her beauty over all those regions, by the name of miss flora rasay. [footnote: she had been some time at edinburgh, to which she again went, and was married to my worthy neighbour, colonel mure campbell, now earl of loudoun; but she died soon afterwards, leaving one daughter.] there seemed to be no jealousy, no discontent among them; and the gaiety of the scene was such, that i for a moment doubted whether unhappiness had any place in rasay. but my delusion was soon dispelled, by recollecting the following lines of my fellow-traveller: yet hope not life from grief or danger free, nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee! sunday, th september it was a beautiful day, and although we did not approve of travelling on sunday, we resolved to set out, as we were in an island from whence one must take occasion as it serves. macleod and talisker sailed in a boat of rasay's for sconser, to take the shortest way to dunvegan. m'cruslick went with them to sconser, from whence he was to go to slate, and so to the main land. we were resolved to pay a visit at kingsburgh, and see the celebrated miss flora macdonald, who is married to the present mr macdonald of kingsburgh; so took that road, though not so near. all the family, but lady rasay, walked down to the shore to see us depart. rasay himself went with us in a large boat, with eight oars, built in his island; as did mr malcolm m'cleod, mr donald m'queen, dr macleod, and some others. we had a most pleasant sail between rasay and sky; and passed by a cave, where martin says fowls were caught by lighting fire in the mouth of it. malcolm remembers this. but it is not now practised, as few fowls come into it. we spoke of death. dr johnson on this subject observed, that the boastings of some men, as to dying easily, were idle talk, proceeding from partial views. i mentioned hawthornden's cypress grove, where it is said that the world is a mere show; and that it is unreasonable for a man to wish to continue in the show-room, after he has seen it. let him go cheerfully out, and give place to other spectators. johnson. 'yes, sir, if he is sure he is to be well, after he goes out of it. but if he is to grow blind after he goes out of the show-room, and never to see any thing again; or if he does not know whither he is to go next, a man will not go cheerfully out of a show-room. no wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he is to go into a state of punishment. nay, no wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he is to fall into annihilation: for however unhappy any man's existence may be, he yet would rather have it, than not exist at all. no; there is no rational principle by which a man can die contented, but a trust in the mercy of god, through the merits of jesus christ.' this short sermon, delivered with an earnest tone, in a boat upon the sea, which was perfectly calm, on a day appropriated to religious worship, while every one listened with an air of satisfaction, had a most pleasing effect upon my mind. pursuing the same train of serious reflection, he added, that it seemed certain that happiness could not be found in this life, because so many had tried to find it, in such a variety of ways, and had not found it. we reached the harbour of portree, in sky, which is a large and good one. there was lying in it a vessel to carry off the emigrants, called the nestor. it made a short settlement of the differences between a chief and his clan: ... nestor componere lites inter peleiden festinat & inter atriden. we approached her, and she hoisted her colours. dr johnson and mr m'queen remained in the boat: rasay and i, and the rest went on board of her. she was a very pretty vessel, and, as we were told, the largest in clyde. mr harrison, the captain shewed her to us. the cabin was commodious, and even elegant. there was a little library, finely bound. portree has its name from king james the fifth having landed there in his tour through the western isles, ree in erse being king, as re is in italian; so it is port-royal. there was here a tolerable inn. on our landing, i had the pleasure of finding a letter from home; and there were also letters to dr johnson and me, from lord elibank, which had been sent after us from edinburgh. his lordship's letter to me was as follows: dear boswell, i flew to edinburgh the moment i heard of mr johnson's arrival; but so defective was my intelligence, that i came too late. it is but justice to believe, that i could never forgive myself, nor deserve to be forgiven by others, if i was to foil in any mark of respect to that very great genius.--i hold him in the highest veneration: for that very reason i was resolved to take no share in the merit, perhaps guilt, of inticing him to honour this country with a visit.--i could not persuade myself there was any thing in scotland worthy to have a summer of samuel johnson bestowed on it; but since he has done us that compliment, for heaven's sake inform me of your motions. i will attend them most religiously; and though i should regret to let mr johnson go a mile out of his way on my account, old as i am, i shall be glad to go five hundred miles to enjoy a day of his company. have the charity to send a council-post [footnote: a term in scotland for a special messenger, such as was formerly sent with dispatches by the lords of the council.] with intelligence; the post does not suit us in the country. at any rate write to me. i will attend you in the north, when i shall know where to find you. i am, my dear boswell, your sincerely obedient humble servant, elibank. august st, . the letter to dr johnson was in these words: dear sir, i was to have kissed your hands at edinburgh, the moment i heard of you; but you were gone. i hope my friend boswell will inform me of your motions. it will be cruel to deprive me an instant of the honour of attending you. as i value you more than any king in christendom, i will perform that duty with infinitely greater alacrity than any courtier. i can contribute but little to your entertainment; but, my sincere esteem for you gives me some tide to the opportunity of expressing it. i dare say you are by this time sensible that things are pretty much the same, as when buchanan complained of being born solo et seculo inerudito. let me hear of you, and be persuaded that none of your admirers is more sincerely devoted to you, than, dear sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant, elibank. dr johnson, on the following tuesday, answered for both of us, thus: my lord, on the rugged shore of skie, i had the honour of your lordship's letter, and can with great truth declare, that no place is so gloomy but that it would be cheered by such a testimony of regard, from a mind so well qualified to estimate characters, and to deal out approbation in its due proportions. if i have more than my share, it is your lordship's fault; for i have always reverenced your judgment too much, to exalt myself in your presence by any false pretensions. mr boswell and i are at present at the disposal of the winds, and therefore cannot fix the time at which we shall have the honour of seeing your lordship. but we should either of us think ourselves injured by the supposition that we would miss your lordship's conversation, when we could enjoy it; for i have often declared that i never met you without going away a wiser man. i am, my lord, your lordship's most obedient and most humble servant, sam. johnson. at portree, mr donald m'queen went to church and officiated in erse, and then came to dinner. dr johnson and i resolved that we should treat the company, so i played the landlord, or master of the feast, having previously ordered joseph to pay the bill. sir james macdonald intended to have built a village here, which would have done great good. a village is like a heart to a country. it produces a perpetual circulation, and gives the people an opportunity to make profit of many little articles, which would otherwise be in a good measure lost. we had here a dinner, et praeterea nihil. dr johnson did not talk. when we were about to depart, we found that rasay had been before-hand with us, and that all was paid: i would fain have contested this matter with him, but seeing him resolved, i declined it. we parted with cordial embraces from him and worthy malcolm. in the evening dr johnson and i remounted our horses, accompanied by mr m'queen and dr macleod. it rained very hard. we rode what they call six miles, upon rasay's lands in sky, to dr macleod's house. on the road dr johnson appeared to be somewhat out of spirits. when i talked of our meeting lord elibank, he said, 'i cannot be with him much. i long to be again in civilized life; but can stay but for a short while' (he meant at edinburgh). he said, 'let us go to dunvegan to-morrow.' 'yes,' said i, 'if it is not a deluge.' 'at any rate,' he replied. this shewed a kind of fretful impatience; nor was it to be wondered at, considering our disagreeable ride. i feared he would give up mull and icolmkill, for he said something of his apprehensions of being detained by bad weather in going to mull and iona. however i hoped well. we had a dish of tea at dr macleod's, who had a pretty good house, where was his brother, a half-pay officer. his lady was a polite, agreeable woman. dr johnson said, he was glad to see that he was so well married, for he had an esteem for physicians. the doctor accompanied us to kingsburgh, which is called a mile farther; but the computation of sky has no connection whatever with real distance. i was highly pleased to see dr johnson safely arrived at kingsburgh, and received by the hospitable mr macdonald, who, with a most respectful attention, supported him into the house. kingsburgh was completely the figure of a gallant highlander, exhibiting 'the graceful mien and manly looks', which our popular scotch song has justly attributed to that character. he had his tartan plaid thrown about him, a large blue bonnet with a knot of black ribband like a cockade, a brown short coat of a kind of duffil, a tartan waistoat with gold buttons and gold button-holes, a bluish philibeg, and tartan hose. he had jet black hair tied behind, and was a large stately man, with a steady sensible countenance. there was a comfortable parlour with a good fire, and a dram went round. by and by supper was served, at which there appeared the lady of the house, the celebrated miss flora macdonald. she is a little woman, of a genteel appearance, and uncommonly mild and well bred. to see dr samuel johnson, the great champion of the english tories, salute miss flora macdonald in the isle of sky, was a striking sight; for though somewhat congenial in their notions, it was very improbable they should meet here. miss flora macdonald (for so i shall call her) told me, she heard upon the main land, as she was returning home about a fortnight before, that mr boswell was coming to sky, and one mr johnson, a young english buck, with him. he was highly entertained with this fancy. giving an account of the afternoon which we passed at anock, he said, 'i, being a buck, had miss in to make tea.' he was rather quiescent tonight, and went early to bed. i was in a cordial humour, and promoted a cheerful glass. the punch was excellent. honest mr m'queen observed that i was in high glee, 'my governour being gone to bed'. yet in reality my heart was grieved, when i recollected that kingsburgh was embarrassed in his affairs, and intended to go to america. however, nothing but what was good was present, and i pleased myself in thinking that so spirited a man should be well every where. i slept in the same room with dr johnson. each had a neat bed, with tartan curtains, in an upper chamber. monday, th september the room where we lay was a celebrated one. dr johnson's bed was the very bed in which the grandson of the unfortunate king james the second [footnote: i do not call him the prince of wales, or the prince, because i am quite satisfied that the right which the house of stuart had to the throne is extinguished. i do not call him the pretender, because it appears to me as an insult to one who is still alive, and, i suppose, thinks very differently. it may be a parliamentary expression; but it is not a gentlemanly expression. i know, and i exult in having it in my power to tell, that the only person in the world who is intitled to be offended at this delicacy, thinks and feels as i do; and has liberality of mind and generosity of sentiment enough to approve of my tenderness for what even has been blood royal. that he is a prince by courtesy, cannot be denied; because his mother was the daughter of sobiesky, king of poland. i shall, therefore, on that account alone, distinguish him by the name of prince charles edward.] lay, on one of the nights after the failure of his rash attempt in - , while he was eluding the pursuit of the emissaries of government, which had offered thirty thousand pounds as a reward for apprehending him. to see dr samuel johnson lying in that bed, in the isle of sky, in the house of miss flora macdonald, struck me with such a group of ideas as it is not easy for words to describe, as they passed through the mind. he smiled and said, 'i have had no ambitious thoughts in it.' [footnote: this perhaps, was said in allusion to some lines ascribed to pope, on his lying, at john duke of argyle's, at adderbury, in the same bed in which wilmot, earl of rochester, had slept. with no poetick ardour fir'd, i press the bed where wilmot lay. that here he liv'd; or here expir'd. begets no numbers, grave or gay.] the room was decorated with a great variety of maps and prints. among others, was hogarth's print of wilkes grinning, with the cap of liberty on a pole by him. that too was a curious circumstance in the scene this morning; such a contrast was wilkes to the above group. it reminded me of sir william chambers's account of oriental gardening, in which we are told all odd, strange, ugly, and even terrible objects, are introduced, for the sake of variety; a wild extravagance of taste which is so well ridiculed in the celebrated epistle to him. the following lines of that poem immediately occurred to me; here too, o king of vengeance! in thy fane, tremendous wilkes shall rattle his gold chain. upon the table in our room i found in the morning a slip of paper, on which dr johnson had written with his pencil these words: quantum cedat virtutibus aurum. [footnote: with virtue weigh'd, what worthless trash is gold!] what he meant by writing them i could not tell. [footnote: since the first edition of this book, an ingenious friend has observed to me, that dr johnson had probably been thinking on the reward which was offered by government for the apprehension of the grandson of king james ii and that he meant by these words to express his admiration of the highlanders, whose fidelity and attachment had resisted the golden temptation that had been held out to them.] he had caught cold a day or two ago, and the rain yesterday having made it worse, he was become very deaf. at breakfast he said, he would have given a good deal rather than not have lain in that bed. i owned he was the lucky man; and observed, that without doubt it had been contrived between mrs macdonald and him. she seemed to acquiesce; adding, 'you know young bucks are always favourites of the ladies.' he spoke of prince charles being here, and asked mrs macdonald, 'who was with him? we were told, madam, in england, there was one miss flora macdonald with him.' she said, 'they were very right'; and perceiving dr johnson's curiosity, though he had delicacy enough not to question her, very obligingly entertained him with a recital of the particulars which she herself knew of that escape, which does so much honour to the humanity, fidelity, and generosity, of the highlanders. dr johnson listened to her with placid attention, and said, 'all this should be written down.' from what she told us, and from what i was told by others personally concerned, and from a paper of information which rasay was so good as to send me, at my desire, i have compiled the following abstract, which, as it contains some curious anecdotes, will, i imagine not be uninteresting to my readers, and even, perhaps, be of some use to future historians. prince charles edward, after the battle of culloden, was conveyed to what is called the long island, where he lay for some time concealed. but intelligence having been obtained where he was, and a number of troops having come in quest of him, it became absolutely necessary for him to quit that country without delay. miss flora macdonald, then a young lady, animated by what she thought the sacred principle of loyalty, offered, with the magnanimity of a heroine, to accompany him in an open boat to sky, though the coast they were to quit was guarded by ships. he dressed himself in women's clothes, and passed as her supposed maid, by the name of betty bourke, an irish girl. they got off undiscovered, though several shots were fired to bring them to, and landed at mugstot, the seat of sir alexander macdonald. sir alexander was then at fort augustus, with the duke of cumberland; but his lady was at home. prince charles took his post upon a hill near the house. flora macdonald waited on lady margaret, and acquainted her of the enterprise in which she was engaged. her ladyship, whose active benevolence was ever seconded by superior talents, shewed a perfect presence of mind, and readiness of invention, and at once settled that prince charles should be conducted to old rasay, who was himself concealed with some select friends. the plan was instantly communicated to kingsburgh, who was dispatched to the hill to inform the wanderer, and carry him refreshments. when kingsburgh approached, he started up, and advanced, holding a large knotted stick, and in appearance ready to knock him down, till he said, 'i am macdonald of kingsburgh, come to serve your highness.' the wanderer answered, 'it is well,' and was satisfied with the plan. flora macdonald dined with lady margaret, at whose table there sat an officer of the army, stationed here with a party of soldiers, to watch for prince charles in case of his flying to the isle of sky. she afterwards often laughed in good humour with this gentleman, on her having so well deceived him. after dinner, flora macdonald on horseback, and her supposed maid, and kingsburgh, with a servant carrying some linen, all on foot, proceeded towards that gentleman's house. upon the road was a small rivulet which they were obliged to cross. the wanderer, forgetting his assumed sex, that his clothes might not be wet, held them up a great deal too high. kingsburgh mentioned this to him, observing, it might make a discovery. he said he would be more careful for the future. he was as good as his word; for the next brook they crossed, he did not hold up his clothes at all, but let them float upon the water. he was very awkward in his female dress. his size was so large, and his strides so great, that some women whom they met reported that they had seen a very big woman, who looked like a man in woman's clothes, and that perhaps it was (as they expressed themselves) the prince, after whom so much search was making. at kingsburgh he met with a most cordial reception; seemed gay at supper, and after it indulged himself in a cheerful glass with his worthy host. as he had not had his clothes off for a long time, the comfort of a good bed was highly relished by him, and he slept soundly till next day at one o'clock. the mistress of corrichatachin told me, that in the forenoon she went into her father's room, who was also in bed, and suggested to him her apprehensions that a party of the military might come up, and that his guest had better not remain here too long. her father said, 'let the poor man repose himself after his fatigues; and as for me, i care not, though they take off this old grey head ten or eleven years sooner than i should die in the course of nature.' he then wrapped himself in the bed-clothes, and again fell fast asleep. on the afternoon of that day, the wanderer, still in the same dress, set out for portree, with flora macdonald and a man servant. his shoes being very bad, kingsburgh provided him with a new pair, and taking up the old ones, said, 'i will faithfully keep them till you are safely settled at st james's. i will then introduce myself by shaking them at you, to put you in mind of your night's entertainment and protection under my roof.' he smiled, and said, 'be as good as your word!' kingsburgh kept the shoes as long as he lived. after his death, a zealous jacobite gentleman gave twenty guineas for them. old mrs macdonald, after her guest had left the house, took the sheets in which he had lain, folded them carefully, and charged her daughter that they should be kept unwashed, and that, when she died, her body should be wrapped in them as a winding sheet. her will was religiously observed. upon the road to portree, prince charles changed his dress, and put on man's clothes again; a tartan short coat and a waistcoat, with philibeg and short hose, a plaid, and a wig and bonnet. mr donald m'donald, called donald roy, had been sent express to the present rasay, then the young laird, who was at that time at his sister's house, about three miles from portree, attending his brother, dr macleod, who was recovering of a wound he had received at the battle of culloden. mr m'donald communicated to young rasay the plan of conveying the wanderer to where old rasay was; but was told that old rasay had fled to knoidart, a part of glengary's estate. there was then a dilemma what should be done. donald roy proposed that he should conduct the wanderer to the main land; but young rasay thought it too dangerous at that time, and said it would be better to conceal him in the island of rasay, till old rasay could be informed where he was, and give his advice what was best. but the difficulty was, how to get him to rasay. they could not trust a portree crew, and all the rasay boats had been destroyed, or carried off by the military except two belonging to malcolm m'leod, which he had concealed somewhere. dr macleod being informed of this difficulty, said he would risk his life once more for prince charles; and it having occurred, that there was a little boat upon a fresh water lake in the neighbourhood, young rasay and dr macleod, with the help of some women, brought it to the sea, by extraordinary exertion, across a highland mile of land, one half of which was bog, and the other a steep precipice. these gallant brothers, with the assistance of one little boy, rowed the small boat to rasay, where they were to endeavour to find captain m'leod, as malcolm was then called, and get one of his good boats, with which they might return to portree, and receive the wanderer; or, in case of not finding him, they were to make the small boat serve, though the danger was considerable. fortunately, on their first landing, they found their cousin malcolm, who, with the utmost alacrity, got ready one of his boats, with two strong men. john m'kenzie, and donald m'friar. malcolm, being the oldest man, and most cautious, said, that as young rasay had not hitherto appeared in the unfortunate business, he ought not to run any risk; but that dr macleod and himself, who were already publickly engaged, should go on this expedition. young rasay answered, with an oath, that he would go, at the risk of his life and fortune. 'in god's name then,' said malcolm, 'let us proceed.' the two boatmen, however, now stopped short, till they should be informed of their destination; and m'kenzie declared he would not move an oar till he knew where they were going. upon which they were both sworn to secrecy; and the business being imparted to them, they were eager to put off to sea without loss of time. the boat soon landed about half a mile from the inn at portree. all this was negotiated before the wanderer got forward to portree. malcolm m'leod, and m'friar, were dispatched to look for him. in a short time he appeared, and went into the publick house. here donald roy, whom he had seen at mugstot, received him, and informed him of what had been concerted. he wanted silver for a guinea, but the landlord had only thirteen shillings. he was going to accept of this for his guinea; but donald roy very judiciously observed, that it would discover him to be some great man; so he desisted. he slipped out of the house, leaving his fair protectress, whom he never again saw; and malcolm macleod was presented to him by donald roy, as a captain in his army. young rasay and dr macleod had waited, in impatient anxiety, in the boat. when he came, their names were announced to him. he would not permit the usual ceremonies of respect, but saluted them as his equals. donald roy staid in sky, to be in readiness to get intelligence, and give an alarm in case the troops should discover the retreat to rasay; and prince charles was then conveyed in a boat to that island in the night. he slept a little upon the passage, and they landed about day-break. there was some difficulty in accommodating him with a lodging, as almost all the houses in the island had been burnt by soldiery. they repaired to a little hut, which some shepherds had lately built, and having prepared it as well as they could, and made a bed of heath for the stranger, they kindled a fire, and partook of some provisions which had been sent with him from kingsburgh. it was observed, that he would not taste wheat-bread, or brandy, while oat-bread and whisky lasted; 'for these,' said he, 'are my own country's bread and drink'. this was very engaging to the highlanders. young rasay being the only person of the company that durst appear with safety, he went in quest of something fresh for them to eat; but though he was amidst his own cows, sheep, and goats, he could not venture to take any of them for fear of a discovery, but was obliged to supply himself by stealth. he therefore caught a kid, and brought it to the hut in his plaid, and it was killed and drest, and furnished them a meal which they relished much. the distressed wanderer, whose health was now a good deal impaired by hunger, fatigue, and watching, slept a long time, but seemed to be frequently disturbed. malcolm told me he would start from broken slumbers, and speak to himself in different languages, french, italian, and english. i must however acknowledge, that it is highly probable that my worthy friend malcolm did not know precisely the difference between french and italian. one of his expressions in english was, 'o god! poor scotland!' while they were in the hut, m'kenzie and m'friar, the two boatmen, were placed as sentinels upon different eminences; and one day an incident happened, which must not be omitted. there was a man wandering about the island, selling tobacco. nobody knew him, and he was suspected to be a spy. m'kenzie came running to the hut, and told that this suspected person was approaching. upon which the three gentlemen, young rasay, dr macleod, and malcom, held a council of war upon him, and were unanimously of opinion that he should instantly be put to death. prince charles, at once assuming a grave and even severe countenance, said, 'god forbid that we should take away a man's life, who may be innocent, while we can preserve our own.' the gentlemen however persisted in their resolution, while he as strenuously continued to take the merciful side. john m'kenzie, who sat watching at the door of the hut, and overheard the debate, said in erse, 'well, well; he must be shot. you are the king, but we are the parliament, and will do what we choose.' prince charles, seeing the gentlemen smile, asked what the man had said, and being told it in english, he observed that he was a clever fellow, and, notwithstanding the perilous situation in which he was, laughed loud and heartily. luckily the unknown person did not perceive that there were people in the hut, at least did not come to it, but walked on past it, unknowing of his risk. it was afterwards found out that he was one of the highland army, who was himself in danger. had he come to them, they were resolved to dispatch him; for, as malcolm said to me, 'we could not keep him with us, and we durst not let him go. in such a situation, i would have shot my brother, if i had not been sure of him.' john m'kenzie was at rasay's house, when we were there.[footnote: this old scottish member of parliament, i am informed, is still living ( ).] about eighteen years before, he hurt one of his legs when dancing, and being obliged to have it cut off, he now was going about with a wooden leg. the story of his being a member of parliament is not yet forgotten. i took him out a little way from the house, gave him a shilling to drink rasay's health, and led him into a detail of the particulars which i have just related. with less foundation, some writers have traced the idea of a parliament, and of the british constitution, in rude and early times. i was curious to know if he had really heard, or understood, any thing of that subject, which, had he been a greater man, would probably have been eagerly maintained. 'why, john,' said i, 'did you think the king should be controuled by a parliament?' he answered, 'i thought, sir, there were many voices against one.' the conversation then turning on the times, the wanderer said, that to be sure, the life he had led of late was a very hard one; but he would rather live in the way he now did, for ten years, than fall into the hands of his enemies. the gentlemen asked him, what he thought his enemies would do with him, should he have the misfortune to fall into their hands. he said, he did not believe they would dare to take his life publickly, but he dreaded being privately destroyed by poison or assassination. he was very particular in his inquiries about the wound which dr macleod had received at the battle of culloden, from a ball which entered at one shoulder, and went cross to the other. the doctor happened still to have on the coat which he wore on that occasion. he mentioned, that he himself had his horse shot under him at culloden; that the ball hit the horse about two inches from his knee, and made him so unruly that he was obliged to change him for another. he threw out some reflections on the conduct of the disastrous affair at culloden, saying, however, that perhaps it was rash in him to do so. i am now convinced that his suspicions were groundless; for i have had a good deal of conversation upon the subject with my very worthy and ingenious friend, mr andrew lumisden, who was under secretary to prince charles, and afterwards principal secretary to his father at rome, who, he assured me, was perfectly satisfied both of the abilities and honour of the generals who commanded the highland army on that occasion. mr lumisden has written an account of the three battles in - , at once accurate and classical. talking of the different highland corps, the gentlemen who were present wished to have his opinion which were the best soldiers. he said, he did not like comparisons among those corps: they were all best. he told his conductors, he did not think it advisable to remain long in any one place; and that he expected a french ship to come for him to lochbroom, among the mackenzies. it then was proposed to carry him in one of malcolm's boats to lochbroom, though the distance was fifteen leagues coastwise. but he thought this would be too dangerous, and desired that at any rate, they might first endeavour to obtain intelligence. upon which young rasay wrote to his friend, mr m'kenzie of applecross, but received an answer, that there was no appearance of any french ship. it was therefore resolved that they should return to sky, which they did, and landed in strath, where they reposed in a cow-house belonging to mr niccolson of scorbreck. the sea was very rough, and the boat took in a good deal of water. the wanderer asked if there was danger, as he was not used to such a vessel. upon being told there was not, he sung an erse song with much vivacity. he had by this time acquired a good deal of the erse language. young rasay was now dispatched to where donald roy was, that they might get all the intelligence they could; and the wanderer, with much earnestness, charged dr macleod to have a boat ready, at a certain place about seven miles off, as he said he intended it should carry him upon a matter of great consequence; and gave the doctor a case, containing a silver spoon, knife, and fork, saying, 'keep you that till i see you', which the doctor understood to be two days from that time. but all these orders were only blinds; for he had another plan in his head, but wisely thought it safest to trust his secrets to no more persons than was absolutely necessary. having then desired malcolm to walk with him a little way from the house, he soon opened his mind, saying, 'i deliver myself to you. conduct me to the laird of m'kinnon's country.' malcolm objected that it was very dangerous, as so many parties of soldiers were in motion. he answered. 'there is nothing now to be done without danger.' he then said, that malcolm must be the master, and he the servant; so he took the bag, in which his linen was put up, and carried it on his shoulder; and observing that his waistcoat, which was of scarlet tartan, with a gold twist button, was finer than malcolm's, which was of a plain ordinary tartan, he put on malcolm's waistcoat, and gave him his; remarking at the same time, that it did not look well that the servant should be better dressed than the master. malcolm, though an excellent walker, found himself excelled by prince charles, who told him, he should not much mind the parties that were looking for him, were he once but a musquet shot from them; but that he was somewhat afraid of the highlanders who were against him. he was well used to walking in italy, in pursuit of game; and he was even now so keen a sportsman, that, having observed some partridges, he was going to take a shot; but malcolm cautioned him against it, observing that the firing might be heard by the tenders who were hovering upon the coast. as they proceeded through the mountains, taking many a circuit to avoid any houses, malcolm, to try his resolution, asked him what they should do, should they fall in with a party of soldiers: he answered. 'fight to be sure!' having asked malcolm if he should be known in his present dress, and malcolm having replied he would, he said, 'then i'll blacken my face with powder.' 'that,' said malcolm, 'would discover you at once.' 'then,' said he, 'i must be put in the greatest dishabille possible.' so he pulled off his wig, tied a handkerchief round his head, and put his night-cap over it, tore the ruffles from his shirt, took the buckles out of his shoes, and made malcolm fasten them with strings; but still malcolm thought he would be known. 'i have so odd a face,' said he, 'that no man ever saw me but he would know me again.' he seemed unwilling to give credit to the horrid narrative of men being massacred in cold blood, after victory had declared for the army commanded by the duke of cumberland. he could not allow himself to think that a general could be so barbarous. when they came within two miles of m'kinnon's house, malcolm asked if he chose to see the laird. 'no,' said he, 'by no means. i know m'kinnon to be as good and as honest a man as any in the world, but he is not fit for my purpose at present. you must conduct me to some other house; but let it be a gentleman's house.' malcolm then determined that they should go to the house of his brother-in-law, mr john m'kinnon, and from thence be conveyed to the main land of scotland, and claim the assistance of macdonald of scothouse. the wanderer at first objected to this, because scothouse was cousin to a person of whom he had suspicions. but he acquiesced in malcolm's opinion. when they were near mr john m'kinnon's house, they met a man of the name of ross, who had been a private soldier in the highland army. he fixed his eyes steadily on the wanderer in his disguise, and having at once recognized him, he clapped his hands, and exclaimed, 'alas! is this the case?' finding that there was now a discovery, malcolm asked, 'what's to be done?' 'swear him to secrecy,' answered prince charles. upon which malcolm drew his dirk, and on the naked blade, made him take a solemn oath, that he would say nothing of his having seen the wanderer, till his escape should be made publick. malcolm's sister, whose house they reached pretty early in the morning, asked him who the person was that was along with him. he said it was one lewis caw, from crieff, who being a fugitive like himself, for the same reason, he had engaged him as his servant, but that he had fallen sick. 'poor man!' said she, 'i pity him. at the same time my heart warms to a man of his appearance.' her husband was gone a little way from home; but was expected every minute to return. she set down to her brother a plentiful highland breakfast. prince charles acted the servant very well, sitting at a respectful distance, with his bonnet off. malcolm then said to him, 'mr caw, you have as much need of this as i have; there is enough for us both: you had better draw nearer and share with me.' upon which he rose, made a profound bow, sat down at table with his supposed master, and eat very heartily. after this there came in an old woman, who, after the mode of ancient hospitality, brought warm water, and washed malcolm's feet. he desired her to wash the feet of the poor man who attended him. she at first seemed averse to this, from pride, as thinking him beneath her, and in the periphrastick language of the highlanders and the irish, said warmly, 'though i wash your father's son's feet, why should i wash his father's son's feet?' she was however persuaded to do it. they then went to bed, and slept for some time; and when malcolm awaked, he was told that mr john m'kinnon, his brother-in-law, was in sight. he sprang out to talk to him before he shoulld see prince charles. after saluting him, malcolm, pointing to the sea, said, 'what, john, if the prince should be prisoner on board one of those tenders?' 'god forbid!' replied john. 'what if we had him here?' said malcolm. 'i wish we had,' answered john; 'we should take care of him.' 'well, john,' said malcolm, 'he is in your house.' john, in a transport of joy, wanted to run directly in, and pay his obeisance; but malcolm stopped him, saying, 'now is your time to behave well, and do nothing that can discover him.' john composed himself, and having sent away all his servants upon different errands, he was introduced into the presence of his guest, and was then desired to go and get ready a boat lying near his house, which, though but a small leaky one, they resolved to take, rather than go to the laird of m'kinnon. john m'kinnon, however, thought otherwise; and upon his return told them, that his chief and lady m'kinnon were coming in the laird's boat. prince charles said to his trusty malcolm. 'i am sorry for this, but must make the best of it.' m'kinnon then walked up from the shore, and did homage to the wanderer. his lady waited in a cave, to which they all repaired, and were entertained with cold meat and wine. mr malcolm m'leod being now superseded by the laird of m'kinnon, desired leave to return, which was granted him, and prince charles wrote a short note, which he subscribed 'james thompson', informing his friends that he had got away from sky, and thanking them for their kindness; and he desired this might be speedily conveyed to young rasay and dr macleod, that they might not wait longer in expectation of seeing him again. he bade a cordial adieu to malcolm, and insisted on his accepting of a silver stock-buckle, and ten guineas from his purse, though, as malcolm told me, it did not appear to contain above forty. malcolm at first begged to be excused, saying, that he had a few guineas at his service; but prince charles answered, 'you will have need of money. i shall get enough when i come upon the main land.' the laird of m'kinnon then conveyed him to the opposite coast of knoidart. old rasay, to whom intelligence had been sent, was crossing at the same time to sky; but as they did not know of each other, and each had apprehensions, the two boats kept aloof. these are the particulars which i have collected concerning the extraordinary concealment and escapes of prince charles, in the hebrides. he was often in imminent danger. the troops traced him from the long island, across sky, to portree, but there lost him. here i stop, having received no farther authentic information of his fatigues and perils before he escaped to france. kings and subjects may both take a lesson of moderation from the melancholy fate of the house of stuart; that kings may not suffer degradation and exile, and subjects may not be harrassed by the evils of a disputed succession. let me close the scene on that unfortunate house with the elegant and pathetick reflections of voltaire, in his histoire generale. 'que les hommes prives,' says that brilliant writer, speaking of prince charles, 'qui se croyent malheureux, jettent les yeux sur ce prince et ses ancetres.' in another place he thus sums up the sad story of the family in general: ii n'y a aucun exemple dans l'histoire d'une maison si longtems infortunee. le premier des rois d'ecosse, qui eut le nom de jacques, apres avoir ete dix-huit ans prisonnier en angleterre, mourut assassine, avec sa femme, par la main de ses sujets. jacques ii, son fils, fut tue a vingt-neuf ans en combattant centre les anglois. jacques iii, mis en prison par son peuple, fut tue ensuite par les revoltes, dans une battaille. jacques iv perit dans un combat qu'il perdit. marie stuart, sa petite fille, chassee, de son trone, fugitive en angleterre, ayant langui dix-huit ans en prison, se vit condamnee a mort par des juges anglais, et eut la tete tranchee. charles i, petit fils de marie, roi d'ecosse et d'angleterre, vendu par les ecossois, et juge a mort par les anglais, mourut sur un echauffaut dans la place publique. jacques, son fils, septieme du nom, et deuxieme en angleterre, fut chasse de ses trois royaumes; et pour comble de malheur on contesta a son fils sa naissance; le fils ne tenta de remonter sur le trone de ces peres, que pour faire perir ses amis par des bourreaux; et nous avons vu le prince charles edouard, reunuissant en vain les vertus de ses peres, et le courage du roy jean sobieski, son ayeul maternel, executer les exploits et essuyer les malheurs les plus incroyables. si quelque chose justifie ceux qui croyent une fatalite a laquelle rien ne peut se soustraire, c'est cette suite continuelle de malheurs qui a persecute la maison de stuart, pendant plus de trois-cent annees. the gallant malcolm was apprehended in about ten days after they separated, put aboard a ship and carried prisoner to london. he said, the prisoners in general were very ill treated in their passage; but there were soldiers on board who lived well, and sometimes invited him to share with them: that he had the good fortune not to be thrown into jail, but was confined in the house of a messenger, of the name of dick. to his astonishment, only one witness could be found against him, though he had been so openly engaged; and therefore, for want of sufficient evidence, he was set at liberty. he added, that he thought himself in such danger, that he would gladly have compounded for banishment. yet, he said, he should never be so ready for death as he then was. there is philosophical truth in this. a man will meet death much more firmly at one time than another. the enthusiasm even of a mistaken principle warms the mind, and sets it above the fear of death; which in our cooler moments, if we really think of it, cannot but be terrible, or at least very awful. miss flora macdonald being then also in london, under the protection of lady primrose, that lady provided a post-chaise to convey her to scotland, and desired she might choose any friend she pleased to accompany her. she chose malcolm. 'so,' said he, with a triumphant air, 'i went to london to be hanged, and returned in a post-chaise with miss flora macdonald.' mr macleod of muiravenside, whom we saw at rasay, assured us that prince charles was in london in , and that there was then a plan in agitation for restoring his family. dr johnson could scarcely credit this story, and said, there could be no probable plan at that time. such an attempt could not have succeeded, unless the king of prussia had stopped the army in germany; for both the army and the fleet would, even without orders, have fought for the king, to whom they had engaged themselves. having related so many particulars concerning the grandson of the unfortunate king james the second; having given due praise to fidelity and generous attachment, which, however erroneous the judgement may be, are honourable for the heart; i must do the highlanders the justice to attest, that i found every where amongst them a high opinion of the virtues of the king now upon the throne, and an honest disposition to be faithful subjects to his majesty, whose family had possessed the sovereignty of this country so long, that a change, even for the abdicated family, would now hurt the best feelings of all his subjects. the abstract point of right would involve us in a discussion of remote and perplexed questions; and after all, we should have no clear principle of decision. that establishment, which, from political necessity, took place in , by a breach in the succession of our kings, and which, whatever benefits may have accrued from it, certainly gave a shock to our monarchy, the able and constitutional blackstone, wisely rests on the solid footing of authority: 'our ancestors having most indisputably a competent jurisdiction to decide this great and important question, and having, in fact decided it, it is now become our duty, at this distance of time, to acquiesce in their determination.' [footnote: commentaries on the laws of england, book i. chap. .] mr paley, the present archdeacon of carlisle, in his principles of moral and political philosophy, having, with much clearness of argument, shewn the duty of submission to civil government to be founded neither on an indefeasible jus divinum, nor on compact, but on expediancy, lays down this rational position: irregularity in the first foundation of a state, or subsequent violence, fraud, or injustice, in getting possession of the supreme power, are not sufficient reasons for resistance, after the government is once peaceably settled. no subject of the british empire conceives himself engaged to vindicate the justice of the norman claim or conquest, or apprehends that his duty in any manner depends upon that controversy. so likewise, if the house of lancaster, or even the posterity of cromwell, had been at this day seated upon the throne of england, we should have been as little concerned to enquire how the founder of the family came there. [footnote: book vi. chap. . since i have quoted mr archdeacon paley upon one subject, i cannot but transcribe, from his excellent work, a distinguished passage in support of the christian revelation. after shewing, in decent but strong terms, the unfairness of the indirect attempts of modern infidels to unsettle and perplex religious principles, and particularly the irony, banter, and sneer, of one whom he politely calls 'an eloquent historian', the archdeacon thus expresses himself: 'seriousness is not constraint of thought; nor levity, freedom. every mind which wishes the advancement of truth and knowledge, in the most important of all human researches, must abhor this licentiousness, as violating no less the laws of reasoning than the rights of decency. there is but one description of men to whose principles it ought to be tolerable. i mean that class of reasoners who can see little in christianity even supposing it to be true. to such adversaries we address this reflection. had jesus christ delivered no other declaration than the following, "the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth, --they that have done well unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation," he had pronounced a message of inestimable importance, and well worthy of that splendid apparatus of prophecy and miracles with which his mission was introduced and attested--a message in which the wisest of mankind would rejoice to find an answer to their doubts, and rest to their inquiries. it is idle to say that a future state had been discovered already. it had been discovered as the copernican system was; it was one guess amongst many. he alone discovers who proves; and no man can prove this point but the teacher who testifies by miracles that his doctrine comes from god' (book v. chap. ). if infidelity be disingenuously dispersed in every shape that is likely to allure, surprise, or beguile the imagination--in a fable, a tale, a novel, a poem, in books of travels, of philosophy, of natural history, as mr paley has well observed--i hope it is fair in me thus to meet such poison with an unexpected antidote, which i cannot doubt will be found powerful.] in conformity with this doctrine, i myself, though fully persuaded that the house of stuart had originally no right to the crown of scotland; for that baliol, and not bruce, was the lawful heir; should yet have thought it very culpable to have rebelled, on that account, against charles the first, or even a prince of that house much nearer the time, in order to assert the claim of the posterity of baliol. however convinced i am of the justice of that principle, which holds allegiance and protection to be reciprocal, i do however acknowledge, that i am not satisfied with the cold sentiment which would confine the exertions of the subject within the strict line of duty. i would have every breast animated with the fervour of loyalty; with that generous attachment which delights in doing somewhat more than is required, and makes 'service perfect freedom'. and, therefore, as our most gracious sovereign, on his accession to the throne, gloried in being born a briton; so, in my more private sphere, ego me nunc denique natum gratulor. i am happy that a disputed succession no longer distracts our minds; and that a monarchy, established by law, is now so sanctioned by time, that we can fully indulge those feelings of loyalty which i am ambitious to excite. they are feelings which have ever actuated the inhabitants of the highlands and the hebrides. the plant of loyalty is there in full vigour, and the brunswick graft now flourishes like a native shoot. to that spirited race of people i may with propriety apply the elegant lines of a modern poet, on the 'facile temper of the beauteous sex': like birds new-caught, who flutter for a time. and struggle with captivity in vain; but by-and-by they rest, they smooth their plumes. and to new masters sing their former notes. [footnote: agis, a tragedy, by john home.] surely such notes are much better than the querulous growlings of suspicious whigs and discontented republicans. kingsburgh conducted us in his boat, across one of the lochs, as they call them, or arms of the sea, which flow in upon all the coasts of sky, to a mile beyond a place called grishinish. our horses had been sent round by land to meet us. by this sail we saved eight miles of bad riding. dr johnson said, 'when we take into the computation what we have saved, and what we have gained, by this agreeable sail, it is a great deal.' he observed, 'it is very disagreeable riding in sky. the way is so narrow, one only at a time can travel, so it is quite unsocial; and you cannot indulge in meditation by yourself, because you must be always attending to the steps which your horse takes.' this was a just and clear description of its inconveniencies. the topick of emigration being again introduced, dr johnson said, that 'a rapacious chief would make a wilderness of his estate'. mr donald m'queen told us, that the oppression, which then made so much noise, was owing to landlords listening to bad advice in the letting of their lands; that interested and designed people flattered them with golden dreams of much higher rents than could reasonably be paid; and that some of the gentlemen tacksmen, or upper tenants, were themselves in part the occasion of the mischief, by over-rating the farms of others. that many of the tacksmen, rather than comply with exorbitant demands, had gone off to america, and impoverished the country, by draining it of its wealth; and that their places were filled by a number of poor people, who had lived under them, properly speaking, as servants, paid by a certain proportion of the produce of the lands, though called sub-tenants. i observed, that if the men of substance were once banished from a highland estate, it might probably be greatly reduced in its value; for one bad year might ruin a set of poor tenants, and men of any property would not settle in such a country, unless from the temptation of getting land extremely cheap; for an inhabitant of any good county in britain, had better go to america than to the highlands or the hebrides. here, therefore was a consideration that ought to induce a chief to act a more liberal part, from a mere motive of interest, independent of the lofty and honourable principle of keeping a clan together, to be in readiness to serve his king. i added, that i could not help thinking a little arbitrary power in the sovereign, to control the bad policy and greediness of the chiefs, might sometimes be of service. in france a chief would not be permitted to force a number of the king's subjects out of the country. dr johnson concurred with me, observing, that 'were an oppressive chieftain a subject of the french king, he would probably be admonished by a letter'. during our sail, dr johnson asked about the use of the dirk, with which he imagined the highlanders cut their meat. he was told, they had a knife and fork besides, to eat with. he asked, how did the women do? and was answered, some of them had a knife and fork too; but in general the men, when they had cut their meat, handed their knives and forks to the women, and they themselves eat with their fingers. the old tutor of macdonald always eat fish with his fingers, alledging that a knife and fork gave it a bad taste. i took the liberty to observe to dr johnson, that he did so. 'yes,' said he; 'but it is because i am short-sighted, and afraid of bones, for which reason i am not fond of eating many kinds of fish, because i must use my fingers.' dr m'pherson's dissertations on scottish antiquities, which he had looked at when at corrichatachin, being mentioned, he remarked, that 'you might read half an hour, and ask yourself what you had been reading: there were so many words to so little matter, that there was no getting through the book'. as soon as we reached the shore, we took leave of kingsburgh, and mounted our horses. we passed through a wild moor, in many places so soft that we were obliged to walk, which was very fatiguing to dr johnson. once he had advanced on horseback to a very bad step. there was a steep declivity on his left, to which he was so near, that there was not room for him to dismount in the usual way. he tried to alight on the other side, as if he had been a 'young buck' indeed, but in the attempt he fell at his length upon the ground; from which, however, he got up immediately without being hurt. during this dreary ride, we were sometimes relieved by a view of branches of the sea, that universal medium of connection amongst mankind. a guide, who had been sent with us from kingsburgh, explored the way (much in the same manner as, i suppose, is pursued in the wilds of america) by observing certain marks known only to the inhabitants. we arrived at dunvegan late in the afternoon. the great size of the castle, which is partly old and partly new, and is built upon a rock close to the sea, while the land around it presents nothing but wild, moorish, hilly, and craggy appearances, gave a rude magnificence to the scene. having dismounted, we ascended a flight of steps, which was made by the late macleod, for the accomodation of persons coming to him by land, there formerly being, for security, no other access to the castle but from the sea; so that visitors who came by the land were under the necessity of getting into a boat, and sailed round to the only place where it could be approached. we were introduced into a stately dining-room, and received by lady macleod, mother of the laird, who, with his friend talisker, having been detained on the road, did not arrive till some time after us. we found the lady of the house a very polite and sensible woman, who had lived for some time in london, and had there been in dr johnson's company. after we had dined, we repaired to the drawing-room, where some of the young ladies of the family, with their mother, were at tea. this room had formerly been the bed-chamber of sir roderick macleod, one of the old lairds; and he chose it, because, behind it, there was a considerable cascade, the sound of which disposed him to sleep. above his bed was this inscription: sir rorie m'leod of dunvegan, knight. god send good rest! rorie is the contraction of roderick. he was called rorie more, that is, great rorie, not from his size, but from his spirit. our entertainment here was in so elegant a style, and reminded my fellow-traveller so much of england, that he became quite joyous. he laughed, and said, 'boswell, we came in at the wrong end of this island.' 'sir,' said i, 'it was best to keep this for the last.' he answered, 'i would have it both first and last.' tuesday, th september dr johnson said in the morning, 'is not this a fine lady?' there was not a word now of his 'impatience to be in civilized life'; though indeed i should beg pardon--he found it here. we had slept well, and lain long. after breakfast we surveyed the castle, and the garden. mr bethune, the parish minister, magnus m'leod, of claggan, brother to talisker, and m'leod, of bay, two substantial gentlemen of the clan, dined with us. we had admirable venison, generous wine; in a word, all that a good table has. this was really the hall of a chief. lady m'leod had been much obliged to my father, who had settled by arbitration, a variety of perplexed claims between her and her relation, the laird of brodie, which she now repaid by particular attention to me. m'leod started the subject of making women do penance in the church for fornication. johnson. 'it is right, sir. infamy is attached to the crime, by universal opinion, as soon as it is known. i would not be the man who would discover it, if i alone knew it, for a woman may reform; nor would i commend a parson who divulges a woman's first offence; but being once divulged, it ought to be infamous. consider, of what importance to society the chastity of women is. upon that all the property in the world depends. we hang a thief for stealing a sheep; but the unchastity of a woman transfers sheep, and farm and all, from the right owner. i have much more reverence for a common prostitute than for a woman who conceals her guilt. the prostitute is known. she cannot deceive: she cannot bring a strumpet into the arms of an honest man, without his knowledge.' boswell. 'there is, however, a great difference between the licentiousness of a single woman, and that of a married woman.' johnson. 'yes, sir; there is a great difference between stealing a shilling, and stealing a thousand pounds; between simply taking a man's purse, and murdering him first, and then taking it. but when one begins to be vicious, it is easy to go on. where single women are licentious, you rarely find faithful married women.' boswell. 'and yet we are told that in some nations in india, the distinction is strictly observed.' johnson. 'nay, don't give us india. that puts me in mind of montesquieu, who is really a fellow of genius too in many respects; whenever he wants to support a strange opinion, he quotes you the practice of japan or of some other distant country, of which he knows nothing. to support polygamy, he tells you of the island of formosa, where there are ten women born for one man. he had but to suppose another island, where there are ten men born for one woman, and so make a marriage between them.' [footnote: what my friend treated as so wild a supposition, has actually happened in the western islands of scotland, if we may believe martin, who tells it of the islands of col and tyr-yi, and says that it is proved by the parish registers.] at supper, lady macleod mentioned dr cadogan's book on the gout. johnson. 'it is a good book in general, but a foolish one in particulars. it is good in general, as recommending temperance and exercise, and cheerfulness. in that respect it is only dr cheyne's book told in a new way; and there should come out such a book every thirty years, dressed in the mode of the times. it is foolish, in maintaining that the gout is not hereditary, and that one fit of it, when gone, is like a fever when gone.' lady macleod objected that the author does not practice what he teaches. [footnote: this was a general reflection against dr cadogan, when his very popular book was first published. it was said, that whatever precepts he might give to others, he himself indulged freely in the bottle. but i have since had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with him, and, if his own testimony may be believed (and i have never heard it impeached), his course of life, has been conformable to his doctrine.] johnson. 'i cannot help that, madam. that does not make his book the worse. people are influenced more by what a man says, if his practice is suitable to it, because they are blockheads. the more intellectual people are, the readier will they attend to what a man tells them. if it is just, they will follow it, be his practice what it will. no man practises so well as he writes. i have, all my life long, been lying till noon; yet i tell all young men, and tell them with great sincerity, that nobody who does not rise early will ever do any good. only consider! you read a book; you are convinced by it; you do not know the authour. suppose you afterwards know him, and find that he does not practice what he teaches; are you to give up your former conviction at this rate you would be kept in a state of equilibrium, when reading every book, till you knew how the authour practised.' 'but,' said lady m'leod, 'you would think better of dr cadogan, if he acted according to his principles.' johnson. 'why, madam, to be sure, a man who acts in the face of light, is worse than a man who does not know so much; yet i think no man should be the worse thought of for publishing good principles. there is something noble in publishing truth, though it condemns one's self.' i expressed some surprize at cadogan's recommending good humour, as if it were quite in our power to attain it. johnson. 'why, sir, a man grows better humoured as he grows older. he improves by experience. when young, he thinks himself of great consequence, and every thing of importance. as he advances in life, he learns to think himself of no consequence, and little things of little importance; and so he becomes more patient, and better pleased. all good humour and complaisance are acquired. naturally a child seizes directly what it sees, and thinks of pleasing itself only. by degrees, it is taught to please others, and to prefer others; and that this will ultimately produce the greatest happiness. if a man is not convinced of that, he never will practice it. common language speaks the truth as to this: we say, a person is well bred. as it is said, that all material motion is primarily in a right line, and is never per circuitum, never in another form, unless by some particular cause; so it may be said intellectual motion is.' lady m'leod asked, if no man was naturally good. johnson. 'no, madam, no more than a wolf.' boswell. 'nor no woman, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir.' lady m'leod started at this, saying, in a low voice, 'this is worse than swift.' m'leod of ulinish had come in the afternoon. we were a jovial company at supper. the laird, surrounded by so many of his clan, was to me a pleasing sight. they listened with wonder and pleasure, while dr johnson harangued. i am vexed that i cannot take down his full train of eloquence. wednesday, th september the gentlemen of the clan went away early in the morning to the harbour of lochbradale, to take leave of some of their friends who were going to america. it was a very wet day. we looked at rorie more's horn, which is a large cow's horn, with the mouth of it ornamented with silver curiously carved. it holds rather more than a bottle and a half. every laird of m'leod, it is said, must, as a proof of his manhood, drink it off full of claret, without laying it down. from rorie more many of the branches of the family are descended; in particular, the talisker branch; so that his name is much talked of. we also saw his bow, which hardly any man now can bend, and his glaymore, which was wielded with both hands, and is of a prodigious size. we saw here some old pieces of iron armour, immensely heavy. the broadsword now used, though called the glaymore (i.e. the great sword), is much smaller than that used in rorie more's time. there is hardly a target now to be found in the highlands. after the disarming act, they made them serve as covers to their butter-milk barrels; a kind of change, like beating spears into pruning-hooks. sir george mackenzie's works (the folio edition) happened to lie in a window in the dining room. i asked dr johnson to look at the characteres advocatorum. he allowed him power of mind, and that he understood very well what he tells; but said, that there was too much declamation, and that the latin was not correct. he found fault with approprinquabant, in the character of gilmour. i tried him with the opposition between gloria and palma, in the comparison between gilmour and nisbet, which lord hailes, in his catalogue of the lords of session, thinks difficult to be understood. the words are, penes ittum gloria, penes hunc palma. in a short account of the kirk of scotland, which i published some years ago, i applied these words to the two contending parties, and explained them thus: 'the popular party has most eloquence; dr robertson's party most influence.' i was very desirous to hear dr johnson's explication. johnson. 'i see no difficulty. gilmour was admired for his parts; nisbet carried his cause by the skill in law. palma is victory.' i observed, that the character of nicholson, in this book resembled that of burke: for it is said, in one place, in omnes lusos & jocos se saepe resolvebat; [footnote: he often indulged himself in every species of pleasantry and wit.] and, in another, sed accipitris more e conspectu aliquando astantium sublimi se protrahens volatu, in praedam miro impetu descendebat. [footnote: but like the hawk, having soared with a lofty flight to a height which the eye could not reach, he was want to swoop upon his quarry with wonderful rapidity.] johnson. 'no, sir; i never heard burke make a good joke in my life.' boswell. 'but, sir, you will allow he is a hawk.' dr johnson, thinking that i meant this of his joking, said, 'no, sir, he is not the hawk there. he is the beetle in the mire.' i still adhered to my metaphor. 'but he soars as the hawk.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but he catches nothing.' m'leod asked, what is the particular excellence of burke's eloquence? johnson. 'copiousness and fertility of allusion; a power of diversifying his matter, by placing it in various relations. burke has great information, and great command of language; though, in my opinion, it has not in every respect the highest elegance.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, that burke has read cicero much?' johnson. 'i don't believe it, sir. burke has great knowledge, great fluency of words, and great promptness of ideas, so that he can speak with great illustration on any subject that comes before him. he is neither like cicero, nor like demosthenes, nor like any one else, but speaks as well as he can.' in the th page of the first volume of sir george mackenzie, dr johnson pointed out a paragraph beginning with 'aristotle', and told me there was an error in the text, which he bade me try to discover. i was lucky enough to hit it at once. as the passage is printed, it is said that the devil answers even in engines. i corrected it to--ever in aenigmas. 'sir,' said he, 'you are a good critick. this would have been a great thing to do in the text of an ancient authour.' thursday, th september last night much care was taken of dr johnson, who was still distressed by his cold. he had hitherto most strangely slept without a night-cap. miss m'leod made him a large flannel one, and he was prevailed with to drink a little brandy when he was going to bed. he has great virtue, in not drinking wine or any fermented liquor, because, as he acknowledged to us, he could not do it in moderation. lady m'leod would hardly believe him, and said, 'i am sure, sir, you would not carry it too far.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it carried me. i took the opportunity of a long illness to leave it off. it was then prescribed to me not to drink wine; and having broken off the habit, i have never returned to it.' in the argument on tuesday night, about natural goodness, dr johnson denied that any child was better than another, but by difference of instruction; though, in consequence of greater attention being paid to instruction by one child than another, and of a variety of imperceptible causes, such as instruction being counteracted by servants, a notion was conceived, that of two children, equally well educated, one was naturally much worse than another. he owned, this morning, that one might have a greater aptitude to learn than another, and that we inherit dispositions from our parents. 'i inherited,' said he, 'a vile melancholy from my father, which has made me mad all my life, at least not sober.' lady m'leod wondered he should tell this. 'madam,' said i, 'he knows that with that madness he is superior to other men.' i have often been astonished with what exactness and perspicuity he will explain the process of any art. he this morning explained to us all the operation of coining, and, at night, all the operation of brewing, so very clearly, that mr m'queen said, when he heard the first, he thought he had been bred in the mint; when he heard the second, that he had been bred a brewer. i was elated by the thought of having been able to entice such a man to this remote part of the world. a ludicrous, yet just image presented itself to my mind, which i expressed to the company. i compared myself to a dog who has got hold of a large piece of meat, and runs away with it to a corner, where he may devour it in peace, without any fear of others taking it from him. 'in london, reynolds, beauclerk, and all of them, are contending who shall enjoy dr johnson's conversation. we are feasting upon it, undisturbed, at dunvegan.' it was still a storm of wind and rain. dr johnson however walked out with m'leod, and saw rorie more's cascade in full perfection. colonel m'leod, instead of being all life and gaiety, as i have seen him, was at present grave, and somewhat depressed by his anxious concern about m'leod's affairs, and by finding some gentlemen of the clan by no means disposed to act a generous or affectionate part to their chief in his distress, but bargaining with him as with a stranger. however, he was agreeable and polite, and dr johnson said, he was a very pleasing man. my fellow-traveller and i talked of going to sweden; and, while we were settling our plan, i expressed a pleasure in the prospect of seeing the king. johnson. 'i doubt, sir, if he would speak to us.' colonel m'leod said, 'i am sure mr boswell would speak to him.' but, seeing me a little disconcerted by his remark, he politely added, 'and with great propriety'. here let me offer a short defence of that propensity in my disposition, to which this gentleman alluded. it has procured me much happiness. i hope it does not deserve so hard a name as either forwardness or impudence. if i know myself, it is nothing more than an eagerness to share the society of men distinguished either by their rank or their talents, and a diligence to attain what i desire. if a man is praised for seeking knowledge, though mountains and seas are in his way, may he not be pardoned, whose ardour, in the pursuit of the same object, leads him to encounter difficulties as great, though of a different kind? after the ladies were gone from table, we talked of the highlanders not having sheets; and this led us to consider the advantage of wearing linen. johnson. 'all animal substances are less cleanly than vegetables. wool, of which flannel is made, is an animal substance; flannel therefore is not so cleanly as linen. i remember i used to think tar dirty; but when i knew it to be only a preparation of the juice of the pine, i thought so no longer. it is not disagreeable to have the gum that oozes from a plumb-tree upon your fingers, because it is vegetable, but if you have any candle-grease, any tallow upon your fingers, you are uneasy till you rub it off. i have often thought, that, if i kept a seraglio, the ladies should all wear linen gowns, or cotton--i mean stuffs made of vegetable substances. i would have no silk; you cannot tell when it is clean: it will be very nasty before it is perceived to be so. linen detects its own dirtiness.' to hear the grave dr samuel johnson, 'that majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom', while sitting solemn in an arm-chair in the isle of sky, talk, ex cathedra, of his keeping a seraglio, and acknowledge that the supposition had often been in his thoughts, struck me so forcibly with ludicrous contrast, that i could not but laugh immoderately. he was too proud to submit, even for a moment, to be the object of ridicule, and instantly retaliated with such keen sarcastick wit, and such a variety of degrading images, of every one of which i was the object, that, though i can bear such attacks as well as most men, i yet found myself so much the sport of all the company, that i would gladly expunge from my mind every trace of this severe retort. talking of our friend langton's house in lincolnshire, he said, 'the old house of the family was burnt. a temporary building was erected in its room; and to this day they have been always adding as the family increased. it is like a shirt made for a man when he was a child, and enlarged always as he grows older.' we talked to-night of luther's allowing the landgrave of hesse two wives, and that it was with the consent of the wife to whom he was first married. johnson. 'there was no harm in this, so far as she was only concerned, because volenti non fit injuria. but it was an offence against the general order of society, and against the law of the gospel, by which one man and one woman are to be united. no man can have two wives, but by preventing somebody else from having one.' friday, th september after dinner yesterday, we had a conversation upon cunning. m'leod said that he was not afraid of cunning people; but would let them play their tricks about him like monkeys. 'but,' said i, 'they scratch'; and mr m'queen added, 'they'll invent new tricks, as soon as you find out what they do.' johnson. 'cunning has effect from the credulity of others, rather than from the abilities of those who are cunning. it requires no extraordinary talents to lie and deceive.' this led us to consider whether it did not require great abilities to be very wicked. johnson. 'it requires great abilities to have the power of being very wicked; but not to be very wicked. a man who has the power, which great abilities procure him, may use it well or ill; and it requires more abilities to use it well, than to use it ill. wickedness is always easier than virtue; for it takes the short cut to every thing. it is much easier to steal a hundred pounds, than to get it by labour, or any other way. consider only what act of wickedness requires great abilities to commit it, when once the person who is to do it has the power; for there is the distinction. it requires great abilities to conquer an army, but none to massacre it after it is conquered.' the weather this day was rather better than any that we had since we came to dunvegan. mr m'queen had often mentioned a curious piece of antiquity near this which he called a temple of the goddess anaitis. having often talked of going to see it, he and i set out after breakfast, attended by his servant, a fellow quite like a savage. i must observe here, that in sky there seems to be much idleness; for men and boys follow you, as colts follow passengers upon a road. the usual figure of a sky boy, is a lown with bare legs and feet, a dirty kilt, ragged coat and waistcoat, a bare head, and a stick in his hand, which, i suppose, is partly to help the lazy rogue to walk, partly to serve as a kind of a defensive weapon. we walked what is called two miles, but is probably four, from the castle, till we came to the sacred place. the country around is a black dreary moor on all sides, except to the sea-coast, towards which there is a view through a valley, and the farm of bay shews some good land. the place itself is green ground, being well drained, by means of a deep glen on each side, in both of which there runs a rivulet with a good quantity of water, forming several cascades, which make a considerable appearance and sound. the first thing we came to was an earthen mound, or dyke, extending from the one precipice to the other. a little farther on, was a strong stone-wall, not high, but very thick, extending in the same manner. on the outside of it were the ruins of two houses, one on each side of the entry or gate to it. the wall is built all along of uncemented stones, but of so large a size as to make a very firm and durable rampart. it has been built all about the consecrated ground, except where the precipice is deep enough to form an enclosure of itself. the sacred spot contains more than two acres. there are within it the ruins of many houses, none of them large, a cairn, and many graves marked by clusters of stones. mr m'queen insisted that the ruin of a small building, standing east and west, was actually the temple of the goddess anaitis, where her statue was kept, and from whence processions were made to wash it in one of the brooks. there is, it must be owned, a hollow road visible for a good way from the entrance; but mr m'queen, with the keen eye of an antiquary, traced it much farther than i could perceive it. there is not above a foot and a half in height of the walls now remaining; and the whole extent of the building was never, i imagine, greater than an ordinary highland house. mr m'queen has collected a great deal of learning on the subject of the temple of anaitis; and i had endeavoured, in my journal, to state such particulars as might give some idea of it, and of the surrounding scenery; but from the great difficulty of describing visible objects, i found my account so unsatisfactory, that my readers would probably have exclaimed and write about it, goddess, and about it; and therefore i have omitted it. when we got home, and were again at table with dr johnson, we first talked of portraits. he agreed in thinking them valuable in families. i wished to know which he preferred, fine portraits, or those of which the merit was resemblance. johnson. 'sir, their chief excellence is being like.' boswell. 'are you of that opinion as to the portraits of ancestors, whom one has never seen?' johnson. 'it then becomes of more consequence that they should be like; and i would have them in the dress of the times, which makes a piece of history. one should like to see how rorie more looked. truth, sir, is of the greatest value in these things.' mr m'queen observed, that if you think it of no consequence whether portraits are like, if they are but well painted, you may be indifferent whether a piece of history is true or not, if well told. dr johnson said at breakfast to day, 'that it was but of late that historians bestowed pains and attention in consulting records, to attain to accuracy. bacon, in writing his history of henry vii, does not seem to have consulted any, but to have just taken what he found in other histories, and blended it with what he learnt by tradition.' he agreed with me that there should be a chronicle kept in every considerable family, to preserve the characters and transactions of successive generations. after dinner i started the subject of the temple of anaitis. mr m'queen had laid stress on the name given to the place by the country people, ainnit; and added, 'i knew not what to make of this piece of antiquity, till i met with the anaitidis delubrum in lydia, mentioned by pausanias and the elder pliny.' dr johnson, with his usual acuteness, examined mr m'queen as to the meaning of the word ainnit, in erse; and it proved to be a water-place, or a place near water, 'which,' said mr m'queen, 'agrees with all the descriptions of the temples of that goddess, which were situated near rivers, that there might be water to wash the statue'. johnson. 'nay, sir, the argument from the name is gone. the name is exhausted by what we see. we have no occasion to go to a distance for what we can pick up under our feet. had it been an accidental name, the similarity between it and anaitis might have had something in it; but it turns out to be a mere physiological name.' macleod said, mr m'queen's knowledge of etymology had destroyed his conjecture. johnson. 'you have one possibility for you, and all possibilities against you. it is possible it may be the temple of anaitis. but it is also possible that it may be a fortification; or it may be a place of christian worship, as the first christians often chose remote and wild places, to make an impression on the mind; or, if it was a heathen temple, it may have been built near a river, for the purpose of lustration; and there is such a multitude of divinities, to whom it may have been dedicated, that the chance of its being a temple of anaitis is hardly any thing. it is like throwing a grain of sand upon the sea-shore today, and thinking you may find it tomorrow. no, sir, this temple, like many an ill-built edifice, tumbles down before it is roofed in.' in his triumph over the reverend antiquarian, he indulged himself in a conceit; for, some vestige of the altar of the goddess being much insisted on in support of the hypothesis, he said, 'mr m'queen is fighting pro aris et focis.' it was wonderful how well time passed in a remote castle, and in dreary weather. after supper, we talked of pennant. it was objected that he was superficial. dr johnson defended him warmly. he said, 'pennant has greater variety of inquiry than almost any man, and has told us more than perhaps one in ten thousand could have done, in the time that he took. he has not said what he was to tell; so you cannot find fault with him, for what he has not told. if a man comes to look for fishes, you cannot blame him if he does not attend to fowls.' 'but,' said colonel m'leod, 'he mentions the unreasonable rise of rents in the highlands, and says, "the gentlemen are for emptying the bag, without filling it"; for that is the phrase he uses. why does he not tell how to fill it?' johnson. 'sir, there is no end of negative criticism. he tells what he observes, and as much as he chooses. if he tells what is not true, you may find fault with him; but, though he tells that the land is not well cultivated, he is not obliged to tell how it may be well cultivated. if i tell that many of the highlanders go bare-footed, i am not obliged to tell how they may get shoes. pennant tells a fact. he need go no farther, except he pleases. he exhausts nothing; and no subject whatever has yet been exhausted. but pennant has surely told a great deal. here is a man six feet high, and you are angry because he is not seven.' notwithstanding this eloquent oratio pro pennantio, which they who have read this gentleman's tours, and recollect the savage and the shopkeeper at monboddo will probably impute to the spirit of contradiction. i still think that he had better have given more attention to fewer things, than have thrown together such a number of imperfect accounts. saturday, th september before breakfast, dr johnson came up to my room, to forbid me to mention that this was his birthday; but i told him i had done it already; at which he was displeased; i suppose from wishing to have nothing particular done on his account. lady m'leod and i got into a warm dispute. she wanted to build a house upon a farm which she has taken, about five miles from the castle, and to make gardens and other ornaments there; all of which i approved of; but insisted that the seat of the family should always be upon the rock of dunvegan. johnson. 'ay, in time we'll build all round this rock. you may make a very good house at the farm; but it must not be such as to tempt the laird of m'leod to go thither to reside. most of the great families of england have a secondary residence, which is called a jointure-house: let the new house be of that kind.' the lady insisted that the rock was very inconvenient; that there was no place near it where a good garden could be made; that it must always be the rude place; that it was a herculean labour to make a dinner here. i was vexed to find the alloy of modern refinement in a lady who had so much old family spirit. 'madam,' said i, 'if once you quit this rock, there is no knowing where you may settle. you move five miles first, then to st andrews, as the late laird did; then to edinburgh; and so on till you end at hampstead, or in france. no, no; keep to the rock: it is the very jewel of the estate. it looks as if it had been let down from heaven by the four corners, to be the residence of a chief. have all the comforts and conveniencies of life upon it, but never leave rorie more's cascade.' 'but,' said she, 'is it not enough if we keep it? must we never have more convenience than rorie more had? he had his beef brought to dinner in one basket, and his bread in another. why not as well be rorie more all over, as live upon his rock? and should not we tire, in looking perpetually on this rock? it is very well for you, who have a fine place, and every thing easy, to talk thus, and think of chaining honest folks to a rock. you would not live upon it yourself.' 'yes, madam,' said i, 'i would live upon it, were i laird of m'leod, and should be unhappy if i were not upon it.' johnson (with a strong voice, and most determined manner). 'madam, rather than quit the old rock, boswell would live in the pit; he would make his bed in the dungeon.' i felt a degree of elation, at finding my resolute feudal enthusiasm thus confirmed by such a sanction. the lady was puzzled a little. she still returned to her pretty farm--rich ground, fine garden. 'madam,' said dr johnson, 'were they in asia, i would not leave the rock.' my opinion on this subject is still the same. an ancient family residence ought to be a primary object; and though the situation of dunvegan be such that little can be done here in gardening, or pleasure-ground, yet, in addition to the veneration acquired by the lapse of time, it has many circumstances of natural grandeur, suited to the seat of a highland chief: it has the sea, islands, rocks, hills, a noble cascade; and when the family is again in opulence, something may be done by art. mr donald m'queen went away today, in order to preach at bracadale next day. we were so comfortably situated at dunvegan, that dr johnson could hardly be moved from it. i proposed to him that we should leave it on monday. 'no, sir,' said he, 'i will not go before wednesday. i will have some more of this good.' however, as the weather was at this season so bad, and so very uncertain, and we had a great deal to do yet, mr m'queen and i prevailed with him to agree to set out on monday, if the day should be good. mr m'queen though it was inconvenient for him to be absent from his harvest, engaged to wait on monday at ulinish for us. when he was going away, dr johnson said, 'i shall ever retain a great regard for you'; then asked him if he had the rambler. mr m'queen said, 'no; but my brother has it' johnson. 'have you the idler?' m'queen. 'no, sir.' johnson. 'then i will order one for you at edinburgh, which you will keep in remembrance of me.' mr m'queen was much pleased with this. he expressed to me, in the strongest terms, his admiration of dr johnson's wonderful knowledge, and every other quality for which he is distinguished. i asked mr m'queen, if he was satisfied with being a minister in sky. he said he was; but he owned that his forefathers having been so long there, and his having been born there, made a chief ingredient in forming his contentment. i should have mentioned, that on our left hand, between portree and dr macleod's house, mr m'queen told me there had been a college of the knights templars; that tradition said so; and that there was a ruin remaining of their church, which had been burnt: but i confess dr johnson has weakened my belief in remote tradition. in the dispute about anaitis, mr m'queen said, asia minor was peopled by scythians, and, as they were the ancestors of the celts, the same religion might be in asia minor and sky. johnson. 'alas! sir, what can a nation that has not letters tell of its original? i have always difficulty to be patient when i hear authors gravely quoted, as giving accounts of savage nations, which accounts they had from the savages themselves. what can the m'craas tell about themselves a thousand years ago? there is no tracing the connection of ancient nations, but by language; and therefore i am always sorry when any language is lost, because languages are the pedigree of nations. if you find the same language in distant countries, you may be sure that the inhabitants of each have been the same people; that is to say, if you find the languages a good deal the same; for a word here and there being the same, will not do. thus butler, in his hudibras, remembering that penguin, in the straits of magellan, signifies a bird with a white head, and that the same word has, in wales, the signification of a white-headed wench (pen head, and guin white), by way of ridicule, concludes that the people of those straits are welch.' a young gentleman of the name of m'lean, nephew to the laird of the isle of muck, came this morning; and, just as we sat down to dinner, came the laird of the isle of muck himself, his lady, sister to talisker, two other ladies their relations, and a daughter of the late m'leod of hamer, who wrote a treatise on the second sight, under the designation of theophilus insulanus. it was somewhat droll to hear this laird called by his title. muck would have sounded ill; so he was called isle of muck, which went off with great readiness. the name, as now written, is unseemly, but is not so bad in the original erse, which is mouach, signifying the sows' island. buchanan calls it insula porcorum. it is so called from its form. some call it isle of monk. the laird insists that this is the proper name. it was formerly church-land belonging to icolmkill, and a hermit lived in it. it is two miles long, and about three quarters of a mile broad. the laird said, he had seven score of souls upon it. last year he had eighty persons inoculated, mostly children, but some of them eighteen years of age. he agreed with the surgeon to come and do it, at half a crown a head. it is very fertile in corn, of which they export some; and its coasts abound in fish. a taylor comes there six times in a year. they get a good blacksmith from the isle of egg. sunday, th september it was rather worse weather than any that we had yet. at breakfast dr johnson said, 'some cunning men choose fools for their wives, thinking to manage them, but they always fail. there is a spaniel fool and a mule fool. the spaniel fool may be made to do by beating. the mule fool will neither do by words or blows; and the spaniel fool often turns mule at last: and suppose a fool to be made do pretty well, you must have the continual trouble of making her do. depend upon it, no woman is the worse for sense and knowledge.' whether afterwards he meant merely to say a polite thing, or to give his opinion, i could not be sure; but he added, 'men know that women are an over-match for them, and therefore they choose the weakest or most ignorant. if they did not think so, they never could be afraid of women knowing as much as themselves.' in justice to the sex, i think it but candid to acknowledge, that, in a subsequent conversation, he told me that he was serious in what he had said. he came to my room this morning before breakfast, to read my journal, which he has done all along. he often before said, 'i take great delight in reading it.' today he said, 'you improve: it grows better and better.' i observed, there was a danger of my getting a habit of writing in a slovenly manner. 'sir,' said he, 'it is not written in a slovenly manner. it might be printed, were the subject fit for printing.' [footnote: as i have faithfully recorded so many minute particulars, i hope i shall be pardoned for inserting so flattering an encomium on what is now offered to the publick.] while mr beaton preached to us in the dining-room, dr johnson sat in his own room, where i saw lying before him a volume of lord bacon's works, the decay of christian piety, monboddo's origin of language, and sterne's sermons. he asked me today, how it happened that we were so little together: i told him, my journal took up much time. yet, on reflection, it appeared strange to me, that although i will run from one end of london to another, to pass an hour with him, i should omit to seize any spare time to be in his company, when i am settled in the same house with him. but my journal is really a task of much time and labour, and he forbids me to contract it. i omitted to mention, in its place, that dr johnson told mr m'queen that he had found the belief of the second sight universal in sky, except among the clergy, who seemed determined against it. i took the liberty to observe to mr m'queen, that the clergy were actuated by a kind of vanity. 'the world,' say they,'takes us to be credulous men in a remote corner. we'll shew them that we are more enlightened than they think.' the worthy man said, that his disbelief of it was from his not finding sufficient evidence; but i could perceive that he was prejudiced against it. after dinner to-day, we talked of the extraordinary fact of lady grange's being sent to st kilda, and confined there for several years, without any means of relief. [footnote: the true story of this lady, which happened in this century, is as frightfully romantick as if it had been the fiction of a gloomy fancy. she was the wife of one of the lords of session in scotland, a man of the very first blood of his country. for some mysterious reasons, which have never been discovered, she was seized and carried off in the dark, she knew not by whom, and by nightly journies was conveyed to the highland shores, from whence she was transported by sea to the remote rock of st kilda, where she remained, amongst its few wild inhabitants, a forlorn prisoner, but had a constant supply of provisions, and a woman to wait on her. no inquiry was made after her, till she at last found means to convey a letter to a confidential friend, by the daughter of a catechist who concealed it in a clue of yarn. information being thus obtained at edinburgh, a ship was sent to bring her off; but intelligence of this being received, she was conveyed to m'leod's island of herries, where she died. in carstares's state papers, we find an authentick narrative of connor, a catholick priest, who turned protestant, being seized by some of lord seaforth's people, and detained prisoner in the island of herries several years: he was fed with bread and water, and lodged in a house where he was exposed to the rains and cold. sir james ogilvy writes (june , ) that the lord chancellor, the lord advocate, and himself, were to meet next day, to take effectual methods to have this redressed. connor was then still detained (p. ). this shews what private oppression might in the last century be practised in the hebrides. in the same collection, the earl of argyle gives a picturesque account of an embassy from 'the great m'neil of barra', as that insular chief used to be denominated. 'i received a letter yesterday from m'neil of barra, who lives very far off, sent by a gentleman in all formality, offering his service, which had made you laugh to see his entry. his style of his letter runs as if he were of another kingdom' (p. ).] dr johnson said, if m'leod would let it be known that he had such a place for naughty ladies, he might make it a very profitable island. we had, in the course of our tour, heard of st kilda poetry. dr johnson observed, 'it must be very poor, because they have very few images.' boswell. 'there may be a poetical genius shewn in combining these, and in making poetry of them.' johnson. 'sir, a man cannot make fire but in proportion as he has fuel. he cannot coin guineas but in proportion as he has gold.' at tea he talked of his intending to go to italy in . m'leod said, he would like paris better. johnson. 'no, sir; there are none of the french literati now alive, to visit whom i would cross a sea. i can find in buffon's book all that he can say.'[footnote: i doubt the justice of my fellow-traveller's remark concerning the french literati, many of whom, i am told, have considerable merit in conversation, as well as in their writings. that of monsieur de buffon, in particular, i am well assured is highly instructive and entertaining.] after supper he said, 'i am sorry that prize-fighting is gone out; every art should be preserved, and the art of defence is surely important. it is absurd that our soldiers should have swords, and not be taught the use of them. prize-fighting made people accustomed not to be alarmed at seeing their own blood, or feeling a little pain from a wound. i think the heavy glaymore was an ill-contrived weapon. a man could only strike once with it. it employed both his hands, and he must of course be soon fatigued with wielding it; so that if his antagonist could only keep playing a while, he was sure of him. i would fight with a dirk against rorie more's sword. i could ward off a blow with a dirk, and then run in upon my enemy. when within that heavy sword, i have him; he is quite helpless, and i could stab him at my leisure, like a calf. it is thought by sensible military men, that the english do not enough avail themselves of their superior strength of body against the french; for that must always have a great advantage in pushing with bayonets. i have heard an officer say, that if women could be made to stand, they would do as well as men in a mere interchange of bullets from a distance: but, if a body of men should come close up to them, then to be sure they must be overcome; now (said he), in the same manner the weaker-bodied french must be overcome by our strong soldiers.' the subject of duelling was introduced. johnson. 'there is no case in england where one or other of the combatants must die: if you have overcome your adversary by disarming him, that is sufficient, though you should not kill him; your honour, or the honour of your family, is restored, as much as it can be by a duel. it is cowardly to force your antagonist to renew the combat, when you know that you have the advantage of him by superior skill. you might just as well go and cut his throat while he is asleep in his bed. when a duel begins, it is supposed there may be an equality; because it is not always skill that prevails. it depends much on presence of mind; nay on accidents. the wind may be in a man's face. he may fall. many such things may decide the superiority. a man is sufficiently punished, by being called out, and subjected to the risk that is in a duel.' but on my suggesting that the injured person is equally subjected to risk, he fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of duelling. monday, th september when i awaked, the storm was higher still. it abated about nine, and the sun shone; but it rained again very soon, and it was not a day for travelling. at breakfast, dr johnson told us, 'there was once a pretty good tavern in catharine street in the strand, where very good company met in an evening, and each man called for his own half pint of wine, or gill, if he pleased: they were frugal men, and nobody paid but for what he himself drank. the house furnished no supper; but a woman attended with mutton-pies, which any body might purchase. i was introduced to this company by cumming the quaker, and used to go there sometimes when i drank wine. in the last age, when my mother lived in london, there were two sets of people, those who gave the wall, and those who took it; the peaceable and the quarrelsome. when i returned to lichfield, after having been in london, my mother asked me, whether i was one of those who gave the wall, or those who took it. now, it is fixed that every man keeps to the right; or, if one is taking the wall, another yields it, and it is never a dispute.' he was very severe on a lady, whose name was mentioned. he said, he would have sent her to st kilda. that she was as bad as negative badness could be, and stood in the way of what was good: that insipid beauty would not go a great way; and that such a woman might be cut out of a cabbage, if there was a skilful artificer. m'leod was too late in coming to breakfast. dr johnson said, laziness was worse than the toothache. boswell. 'i cannot agree with you, sir; a bason of cold water, or a horse whip, will cure laziness.' johnson. 'no, sir; it will only put off the fit; it will not cure the disease. i have been trying to cure my laziness all my life, and could not do it.' boswell. 'but if a man does in a shorter time what might be the labour of a life, there is nothing to be said against him.' johnson (perceiving at once that i alluded to him and his dictionary). 'suppose that flattery to be true, the consequence would be, that the world would have no right to censure a man; but that will not justify him to himself.' after breakfast, he said to me, 'a highland chief should now endeavour to do every thing to raise his rents, by means of the industry of his people. formerly, it was right for him to have his house full of idle fellows; they were his defenders, his servants, his dependants, his friends. now they may be better employed. the system of things is now so much altered, that the family cannot have influence but by riches, because it has no longer the power of ancient feudal times. an individual of a family may have it; but it cannot now belong to a family, unless you could have a perpetuity of men with the same views. m'leod has four times the land that the duke of bedford has. i think, with his spirit, he may in time make himself the greatest man in the king's dominions; for land may always be improved to a certain degree. i would never have any man sell land, to throw money into the funds, as is often done, or to try any other species of trade. depend upon it, this rage of trade will destroy itself. you and i shall not see it; but the time will come when there will be an end of it. trade is like gaming. if a whole company are gamesters, play must cease; for there is nothing to be won. when all nations are traders, there is nothing to be gained by trade, and it will stop first where it is brought to the greatest perfection. then the proprietors of land only will be the great men.' i observed, it was hard that m'leod should find ingratitude in so many of his people. johnson. 'sir, gratitude is a fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it among gross people.' i doubt of this. nature seems to have implanted gratitude in all living creatures. the lion, mentioned by aulus gellius, had it. [footnote: aul. gellius, lib. v. c. xiv.] it appears to me that culture, which brings luxury and selfishness with it, has a tendency rather to weaken than promote this affection. dr johnson said this morning, when talking of our setting out, that he was in the state in which lord bacon represents kings. he desired the end, but did not like the means. he wished much to get home, but was unwilling to travel in sky. 'you are like kings too in this, sir,' said i, 'that you must act under the direction of others.' tuesday, st september the uncertainty of our present situation having prevented me from receiving any letters from home for some time, i could not help being uneasy. dr johnson had an advantage over me, in this respect, he having no wife or child to occasion anxious apprehensions in his mind. it was a good morning; so we resolved to set out. but, before quitting this castle, where we have been so well entertained, let me give a short description of it. along the edge of the rock, there are the remains of a wall, which is now covered with ivy. a square court is formed by buildings of different ages, particularly some towers, said to be of great antiquity; and at one place there is a row of false cannon of stone. there is a very large unfinished pile, four stories high, which we were told was here when leod, the first of this family, came from the isle of man, married the heiress of the m'crails, the ancient possessors of dunvegan, and afterwards acquired by conquest as much land as he had got by marriage. he surpassed the house of austria; for he was felix both bella genere et nubere. john breck m'leod, the grandfather of the late laird, began to repair the castle, or rather to complete it: but he did not live to finish his undertaking. not doubting, however, that he should do it, he, like those who have had their epitaphs written before they died, ordered the following inscription, composed by the minister of the parish, to be cut upon a broad stone above one of the lower windows, where it still remains to celebrate what was not done, and to serve as a memento of the uncertainty of life, and the presumption of man: joannes macleod beganoduni dominus gentis suae philarchus, durinesiae haraiae vaternesiae, &c: baro d. florae macdonald matrimoniali vinculo conjugatus turrem hanc beganodunensem proavorum habitaculum longe vetustissimum diu penitus labefectatam anno aerae vulgaris mdclxxxvi instauravit. quern stabilire juvat proavorum tecta vetusta, omne scelus fugiat, justitiamque colat. vertit in aerias turres magalia virtus, inque casas humiles tecta superba nefas. m'leod and talisker accompanied us. we passed by the parish church of durinish. the church-yard is not enclosed, but a pretty murmuring brook runs along one side of it. in it is a pyramid erected to the memory of thomas lord lovat, by his son lord simon, who suffered on towerhill. it is of free-stone, and, i suppose, about thirty feet high. there is an inscription on a piece of white marble inserted in it, which i suspect to have been the composition of lord lovat himself, being much in his pompous style: this pyramid was erected by simon lord fraser of lovat, in honour of lord thomas his father, a peer of scotland, and chief of the great and ancient clan of the frasers. being attacked for his birthright by the family of atholl, then in power and favour with king william, yet, by the valour and fidelity of his clan, and the assistance of the campbells, the old friends and allies of his family, he defended his birthright with such greatness and fermety of soul, and such valour and activity, that he was an honour to his name, and a good pattern to all brave chiefs of clans. he died in the month of may, , in the d year of his age, in dunvegan, the house of the laird of mac leod, whose sister he had married: by whom he had the above simon lord fraser, and several other children. and, for the great love he bore to the family of mac leod, he desired to be buried near his wife's relations, in the place where two of her uncles lay. and his son lord simon, to shew to posterity his great affection for his mother's kindred, the brave mac leods, chooses rather to leave his father's bones with them, than carry them to his own burial-place, near lovat. i have preserved this inscription, though of no great value, thinking it characteristical of a man who has made some noise in the world. dr johnson said, it was poor stuff, such as lord lovat's butler might have written. i observed, in this church-yard, a parcel of people assembled at a funeral, before the grave was dug. the coffin, with the corpse in it, was placed on the ground, while the people alternately assisted in making a grave. one man, at a little distance, was busy cutting a long turf for it, with the crooked spade which is used in sky; a very aukward instrument. the iron part of it is like a plough-coulter. it has a rude tree for a handle, in which a wooden pin is placed for the foot to press upon. a traveller might, without further inquiry, have set this down as the mode of burying in sky. i was told, however, that the usual way is to have a grave previously dug. i observed to-day, that the common way of carrying home their grain here is in loads on horse-back. they have also a few sleds, or cars, as we call them in ayrshire, clumsily made, and rarely used. we got to ulinish about six o'clock, and found a very good farm-house, of two stories. mr m'leod of ulinish, the sheriff-substitute of the island, was a plain honest gentleman, a good deal like an english justice of peace; not much given to talk, but sufficiently sagacious, and somewhat droll. his daughter, though she was never out of sky, was a very well-bred woman. our reverend friend, mr donald m'queen, kept his appointment, and met us here. talking of phipps's voyage to the north pole, dr johnson observed, that it 'was conjectured that our former navigators have kept too near land, and so have found the sea frozen far north, because the land hinders the free motion of the tide; but, in the wide ocean, where the waves tumble at their full convenience, it is imagined that the frost does not take effect'. wednesday, d september in the morning i walked out, and saw a ship, the margaret of clyde, pass by with a number of emigrants on board. it was a melancholy sight. after breakfast, we went to see what was called a subterraneous house, about a mile off. it was upon the side of a rising-ground. it was discovered by a fox's having taken up his abode in it, and in chasing him, they dug into it. it was very narrow and low, and seemed about forty feet in length. near it, we found the foundations of several small huts, built of stone. mr m'queen, who is always for making every thing as ancient as possible, boasted that it was the dwelling of some of the first inhabitants of the island, and observed, what a curiosity it was to find here a specimen of the houses of the aborigines, which he believed could be found no where else; and it was plain that they lived without fire. dr johnson remarked, that they who made this were not in the rudest state; for that it was more difficult to make it than to build a house; therefore certainly those who made it were in possession of houses, and had this only as a hiding-place. it appeared to me, that the vestiges of houses, just by it, confirmed dr johnson's opinion. from an old tower, near this place, is an extensive view of loch braccadil, and, at a distance, of the isles of barra and south uist; and on the landside, the cuillin, a prodigious range of mountains, capped with rocky pinnacles in a strange variety of shapes. they resemble the mountains near corte in corsica, of which there is a very good print. they make part of a great range for deer, which, though entirely devoid of trees, is in these countries called a forest. in the afternoon, ulinish carried us in his boat to an island possessed by him, where we saw an immense cave, much more deserving the title of antrum immane than that of the sybil described by virgil, which i likewise have visited. it is one hundred and eighty feet long, about thirty feet broad, and at least thirty feet high. this cave, we were told, had a remarkable echo; but we found none. they said it was owing to the great rains having made it damp. such are the excuses by which the exaggeration of highland narratives is palliated. there is a plentiful garden at ulinish (a great rarity in sky), and several trees; and near the house is a hill, which has an erse name, signifying 'the hill of strife', where, mr m'queen informed us, justice was of old administered. it is like the mons placiti of scone, or those hills which are called laws, such as kelly law, north berwick law, and several others. it is singular that this spot should happen now to be the sheriff's residence. we had a very cheerful evening, and dr johnson talked a good deal on the subject of literature. speaking of the noble family of boyle, he said, that all the lord orrerys, till the present, had been writers. the first wrote several plays; the second was bentley's antagonist; the third wrote the life of swift, and several other things; his son hamilton wrote some papers in the adventurer and world. he told us, he was well acquainted with swift's lord orrery. he said, he was a feeble-minded man; that, on the publication of dr delany's remarks on his book, he was so much alarmed that he was afraid to read them. dr johnson comforted him, by telling him they were both in the right; that delany had seen most of the good side of swift, lord orrery most of the bad. m'leod asked, if it was not wrong in orrery to expose the defects of a man with whom he lived in intimacy. johnson. 'why no, sir, after the man is dead; for then it is done historically.' he added, 'if lord orrery had been rich, he would have been a very liberal patron. his conversation was like his writings, neat and elegant, but without strength. he grasped at more than his abilities could reach; tried to pass for a better talker, a better writer, and a better thinker than he was. there was a quarrel between him and his father, in which his father was to blame; because it arose from the son's not allowing his wife to keep company with his father's mistress. the old lord shewed his resentment in his will--leaving his library from his son, and assigning, as his reason, that he could not make use of it.' i mentioned the affectation of orrery, in ending all his letters on the life of swift in studied varieties of phrase, and never in the common mode of 'i am', &c. an observation which i remember to have been made several years ago by old mr sheridan. this species of affectation in writing, as a foreign lady of distinguished talents once remarked to me, is almost peculiar to the english. i took up a volume of dryden, containing the conquest of granada, and several other plays, of which all the dedications had such studied conclusions. dr johnson said, such conclusions were more elegant, and, in addressing persons of high rank (as when dryden dedicated to the duke of york), they were likewise more respectful. i agreed that there it was much better: it was making his escape from the royal presence with a genteel sudden timidity, in place of having the resolution to stand still, and make a formal bow. lord orrery's unkind treatment of his son in his will, led us to talk of the dispositions a man should have when dying. i said, i did not see why a man should act differently with respect to those of whom he thought ill when in health, merely because he was dying. johnson. 'i should not scruple to speak against a party, when dying; but should not do it against an individual. it is told of sixtus quintus, that on his death-bed, in the intervals of his last pangs, he signed death-warrants.' mr m'queen said, he should not do so; he would have more tenderness of heart. johnson. 'i believe i should not either; but mr m'queen and i are cowards. it would not be from tenderness of heart; for the heart is as tender when a man is in health as when he is sick, though his resolution may be stronger. sixtus quintus was a sovereign as well as a priest; and, if the criminals deserved death, he was doing his duty to the last. you would not think a judge died ill, who should be carried off by an apoplectick fit while pronouncing sentence of death. consider a class of men whose business it is to distribute death: soldiers, who die scattering bullets. nobody thinks they die ill on that account.' talking of biography, he said, he did not think that the life of any literary man in england had been well written. beside the common incidents of life, it should tell us his studies, his mode of living, the means by which he attained to excellence, and his opinion of his own works. he told us, he had sent derrick to dryden's relations, to gather materials for his life; and he believed derrick had got all that he himself should have got; but it was nothing. he added, he had a kindness for derrick, and was sorry he was dead. his notion as to the poems published by mr m'pherson, as the works of ossian, was not shaken here. mr m'queen always evaded the point of authenticity, saying only that mr m'pherson's pieces fell far short of those he knew in erse, which were said to be ossian's. johnson. 'i hope they do. i am not disputing that you may have poetry of great merit; but that m'pherson's is not a translation from ancient poetry. you do not believe it. i say before you, you do not believe it, though you are very willing that the world should believe it.' mr m'queen made no answer to this. dr johnson proceeded, 'i look upon m'pherson's fingal to be as gross an imposition as ever the world was troubled with. had it been really an ancient work, a true specimen how men thought at that time, it would have been a curiosity of the first rate. as a modern production, it is nothing.' he said, he could never get the meaning of an erse song explained to him. they told him, the chorus was generally unmeaning. 'i take it,' said he, 'erse songs are like a song which i remember: it was composed in queen elizabeth's time, on the earl of essex; and the burthen was "radaratoo, radarate, radara tadara tandore."' 'but surely,' said mr m'queen, 'there were words to it, which had meaning.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir, i recollect a stanza, and you shall have it: "o! then bespoke the prentices all, living in london, both proper and tall, for essex's sake they would fight all. radaratoo, radarate, radara, tadara, tandore."' [footnote: this droll quotation, i have since found, was from a song in honour of the earl of essex, called 'queen elizabeth's champion', which is preserved in a collection of old ballads, in three volumes, published in london in different years, between and . the full verse is as follows: oh! then bespoke the prentices all, living in london, both proper and tall, in a kind letter sent straight to the queen, for essex's sake they would fight all. raderer too, tandaro te, raderer, tenderer, tan do re.] when mr m'queen began again to expatiate on the beauty of ossian's poetry, dr johnson entered into no further controversy, but, with a pleasant smile, only cried, 'ay, ay; radaratoo, radarate.' thursday, d september i took fingal down to the parlour in the morning, and tried a test proposed by mr roderick m'leod, son to ulinish. mr m'queen had said he had some of the poem in the original. i desired him to mention any passage in the printed book, of which he could repeat the original. he pointed out one in page of the quarto edition, and read the erse, while mr roderick m'leod and i looked on the english; and mr m'leod said, that it was pretty like what mr m'queen had recited. but when mr m'queen read a description of cuchullin's sword in erse, together with a translation of it in english verse, by sir james foulis, mr m'leod said, that was much more like than mr m'pherson's translation of the former passage. mr m'queen then repeated in erse a description of one of the horses in cuchillin's car. mr m'leod said, mr m'pherson's english was nothing like it. when dr johnson came down, i told him that i had now obtained some evidence concerning fingal; for that mr m'queen had repeated a passage in the original erse, which mr m'pherson's translation was pretty like; and reminded him that he himself had once said, he did not require mr m'pherson's ossian to be more like the original than pope's homer. johnson. 'well, sir, this is just what i always maintained. he has found names, and stories, and phrases, nay passages in old songs, and with them has blended his own compositions, and so made what he gives to the world as the translation of an ancient poem.' if this was the case, i observed, it was wrong to publish it as a poem in six books. johnson. 'yes, sir; and to ascribe it to a time too when the highlanders knew nothing of books, and nothing of six; or perhaps were got the length of counting six. we have been told, by condamine, of a nation that could count no more than four. this should be told to monboddo; it would help him. there is as much charity in helping a man down-hill, as in helping him up-hill.' boswell. 'i don't think there is as much charity.' johnson. 'yes, sir, if his tendency be downwards. till he is at the bottom, he flounders; get him once there, and he is quiet. swift tells, that stella had a trick, which she learned from addison, of encouraging a man in absurdity, instead of endeavouring to extricate him.' mr m'queen's answers to the inquiries concerning ossian were so unsatisfactory, that i could not help observing, that, were he examined in a court of justice, he would find himself under a necessity of being more explicit. johnson. 'sir, he has told blair a little too much, which is published; and he sticks to it. he is so much at the head of things here, that he has never been accustomed to be closely examined; and so he goes on quite smoothly.' boswell. 'he has never had any body to work him.' johnson. 'no, sir; and a man is seldom disposed to work himself; though he ought to work himself, to be sure.' mr m'queen made no reply. [footnote: i think it but justice to say, that i believe dr johnson meant to ascribe mr m'queen's conduct to inaccuracy and enthusiasm, and did not mean any severe imputation against him.] having talked of the strictness with which witnesses are examined in courts of justice, dr johnson told us, that garrick, though accustomed to face multitudes, when produced as a witness in westminster hall, was so disconcerted by a new mode of publick appearance, that he could not understand what was asked. it was a cause where an actor claimed a free benefit; that is to say, a benefit without paying the expence of the house; but the meaning of the term was disputed. garrick was asked, 'sir, have you a free benefit?' 'yes.' 'upon what terms have you it?' 'upon...the terms...of ...a free benefit.' he was dismissed as one from whom no information could be obtained. dr johnson is often too hard on our friend mr garrick. when i asked him, why he did not mention him in the preface to his shakspeare, he said, 'garrick has been liberally paid for any thing he has done for shakspeare. if i should praise him, i should much more praise the nation who paid him. he has not made shakspeare better known; [footnote: it has been triumphantly asked, 'had not the plays of shakspeare lain dormant for many years before the appearance of mr garrick? did he not exhibit the most excellent of them frequently for thirty years together, and render them extremely popular by his own inimitable performance?' he undoubtedly did. but dr johnson's assertion has been misunderstood. knowing as well as the objectors what has been just stated, he must necessarily have meant, that 'mr garrick did not as a critick make shakspeare better known; he did not illustrate any one passage in any of his plays by acuteness of disquisition, sagacity of conjecture:' and what had been done with any degree of excellence in that way was the proper and immediate subject of his preface. i may add in support of this explanation the following anecdote, related to me by one of the ablest commentators on shakspeare, who knew much of dr johnson: 'now i have quitted the theatre,' cries garrick, 'i will sit down and read shakspeare.' ''tis time you should,' exclaimed johnson, 'for i much doubt if you ever examined one of his plays from the first scene to the last.'] he cannot illustrate shakspeare: so i have reasons enough against mentioning him, were reasons necessary. there should be reasons for it.' i spoke of mrs montague's very high praises of garrick. johnson. 'sir, it is fit she should say so much, and i should say nothing. reynolds is fond of her book, and i wonder at it; for neither i, nor beauclerk, nor mrs thrale, could get through it.' [footnote: no man has less inclination to controversy than i have, particularly with a lady. but as i have claimed, and am conscious of being entitled to, credit, for the strictest fidelity, my respect for the publick obliges me to take notice of an insinuation which tends to impeach it. mrs piozzi (late mrs thrale), to her anecdotes of dr johnson, added the following postscript: naples, feb. , . since the foregoing went to the press, having seen a passage from mr boswell's tour to the hebrides, in which it is said, that i could not get through mrs montague's essay on shakspeare, i do not delay a moment to declare, that, on the contrary, i have always commended it myself, and heard it commended by every one else; and few things would give me more concern than to be thought incapable of tasting, or unwilling to testify my opinion of its excellence. it is remarkable that this postscript is so expressed, as not to point out the person who said that mrs thrale could not get through mrs montague's book; and therefore i think it necessary to remind mrs piozzi, that the assertion concerning her was dr johnson's, and not mine. the second observation that i shall make on this postscript is, that it does not deny the fact asserted, though i must acknowledge from the praise it bestows on mrs montague's book, it may have been designed to convey that meaning. what mrs thrale's opinion is or was, or what she may or may not have said to dr johnson concerning mrs montague's book, it is not necessary for me to inquire. it is only incumbent on me to ascertain what dr johnson said to me. i shall therefore confine myself to a very short state of the fact. the unfavourable opinion of mrs montague's book, which dr johnson is here reported to have given, is known to have been that which is uniformly expressed, as many of his friends well remember. so much for the authenticity of the paragraph, as far as it relates to his own sentiments. the words containing the assertion, to which mrs piozzi objects, are printed from my manuscript journal, and were taken down at the time. the journal was read by dr johnson, who pointed out some inaccuracies, which i corrected, but did not mention any inaccuracy in the paragraph in question: and what is still more material, and very flattering to me, a considerable part of my journal, containing this paragraph, was read several years ago by mrs thrale herself, who had it for some time in her possession, and returned it to me, without intimating that dr johnson had mistaken her sentiments. when the first edition of my journal was passing through the press, it occurred to me, that a peculiar delicacy was necessary to be observed in reporting the opinion of one literary lady concerning the performance of another; and i had such scruples on that head, that in the proof sheet i struck out the name of mrs thrale from the above paragraph, and two or three hundred copies of my book were actually printed and published without it; of these sir joshua reynolds's copy happened to be one. but while the sheet was working off, a friend, for whose opinion i have great respect, suggested that i had no right to deprive mrs thrale of the high honour which dr johnson had done her, by stating her opinion along with that of mr beauclerk, as coinciding with, and, as it were, sanctioning his own. the observation appeared to me so weighty and conclusive, that i hastened to the printing house, and, as a piece of justice, restored mrs thrale to that place from which a too scrupulous delicacy had excluded her. on this simple state of facts i shall make no observation whatever.] last night dr johnson gave us an account of the whole process of tanning, and of the nature of milk, and the various operations upon it, as making whey, &c. his variety of information is surprizing; and it gives one much satisfaction to find such a man bestowing his attention on the useful arts of life. ulinish was much struck with his knowledge; and said, 'he is a great orator, sir; it is musick to hear this man speak.' a strange thought struck me, to try if he knew any thing of an art, or whatever it should be called, which is no doubt very useful in life, but which lies far out of the way of a philosopher and poet; i mean the trade of a butcher. i enticed him into the subject, by connecting it with the various researches into the manners and customs of uncivilized nations, that have been made by our late navigators into the south seas. i began with observing, that mr (now sir joseph) banks tells us, that the art of slaughtering animals was not known in otaheite, for, instead of bleeding to death their dogs (a common food with them), they strangle them. this he told me himself; and i supposed that their hogs were killed in the same way. dr johnson said, 'this must be owing to their not having knives, though they have sharp stones with which they can cut a carcase in pieces tolerably.' by degrees, he shewed that he knew something even of butchery. 'different animals,' said he, 'are killed differently. an ox is knocked down, and a calf stunned; but a sheep has its throat cut, without any thing being done to stupify it. the butchers have no view to the ease of the animals, but only to make them quiet, for their own safety and convenience. a sheep can give them little trouble. hales is of opinion, that every animal should be blooded, without having any blow given to it, because it bleeds better.' boswell. 'that would be cruel.' johnson. 'no, sir; there is not much pain, if the jugular vein be properly cut.' pursuing the subject, he said, the kennels of southwark ran with blood two or three days in the week; that he was afraid there were slaughter-houses in more streets in london than one supposes (speaking with a kind of horrour of butchering), and yet, he added, 'any of us would kill a cow, rather than not have beef.' i said we could not. 'yes,' said he, 'any one may. the business of a butcher is a trade indeed, that is to say, there is an apprenticeship served to it; but it may be learnt in a month.' i mentioned a club in london, at the boar's head in eastcheap, the very tavern where falstaff and his joyous companions met; the members of which all assume shakspeare's characters. one is falstaff, another prince henry, another bardolph, and so on. johnson. 'don't be of it, sir. now that you have a name, you must be careful to avoid many things, not bad in themselves, but which will lessen your character. [footnote: i do not see why i might not have been of this club without lessening my character. but dr johnson's caution against supposing one's self concealed in london, may be very useful to prevent some people from doing many things, not only foolish, but criminal.] this every man who has a name must observe. a man who is not publickly known may live in london as he pleases, without any notice being taken of him; but it is wonderful how a person of any consequence is watched. there was a member of parliament, who wanted to prepare himself to speak on a question that was to come in the house; and he and i were to talk it over together. he did not wish it should be known that he talked with me; so he would not let me come to his house, but came to mine. some time after he had made his speech in the house, mrs cholmondeley, a very airy lady, told me, "well, you could make nothing of him!" naming the gentleman, which was a proof that he was watched. i had once some business to do for government, and i went to lord north's. precaution was taken that it should not be known. it was dark before i went; yet a few days after i was told, "well, you have been with lord north." that the door of the prime minister should be watched, is not strange; but that a member of parliament should be watched, or that my door should be watched, is wonderful.' we set out this morning on our way to talisker, in ulinish's boat, having taken leave of him and his family. mr donald m'queen still favoured us with his company, for which we were much obliged to him. as we sailed along dr johnson got into one of his fits of railing at the scots. he owned that they had been a very learned nation for a hundred years, from about to about ; but that they afforded the only instance of a people among whom the arts of civil life did not advance in proportion with learning; that they had hardly any trade, any money, or any elegance, before the union; that it was strange that, with all the advantages possessed by other nations, they had not any of those conveniences and embellishments which are the fruit of industry, till they came in contact with a civilized people. 'we have taught you,' said he, 'and we'll do the same in time to all barbarous nations, to the cherokees, and at last to the ouran- outangs'; laughing with as much glee as if monboddo had been present. boswell. 'we had wine before the union.' johnson. 'no, sir; you had some weak stuff, the refuse of france, which would not make you drunk.' boswell. 'i assure you, sir, there was a great deal of drunkenness.' johnson. 'no, sir; there were people who died of dropsies, which they contracted in trying to get drunk.' i must here gleen some of his conversation at ulinish, which i have omitted. he repeated his remark, that a man in a ship was worse than a man in a jail. 'the man in a jail,' said he, 'has more room, better food, and commonly better company, and is in safety.' 'ay; but,' said mr m'queen, 'the man in the ship has the pleasing hope of getting to shore.' johnson. 'sir, i am not talking of a man's getting to shore; but a man while he is in a ship: and then, i say, he is worse than a man while he is in a jail. a man in a jail may have the "pleasing hope" of getting out. a man confined for only a limited time, actually has it.' m'leod mentioned his schemes for carrying on fisheries with spirit, and that he would wish to understand the construction of boats. i suggested that he might go to a dock-yard and work, as peter the great did. johnson. 'nay, sir, he need not work. peter the great had not the sense to see that the mere mechanical work may be done by any body, and that there is the same art in constructing a vessel, whether the boards are well or ill wrought. sir christopher wren might as well have served his time to a bricklayer, and first, indeed, to a brick-maker.' there is a beautiful little island in the loch of dunvegan, called isa. m'leod said, he would give it to dr johnson, on condition of his residing on it three months in the year; nay one month. dr johnson was highly amused with the fancy. i have seen him please himself with little things, even with mere ideas like the present. he talked a great deal of this island--how he would build a house there, how he would fortify it, how he would have cannon, how he would plant, how he would sally out and take the isle of muck; and then he laughed with uncommon glee, and could hardly leave off. i have seen him do so at a small matter that struck him, and was a sport to no one else. mr langton told me, that one night he did so while the company were all grave about him: only garrick, in his significant smart manner, darting his eyes around, exclaimed, 'very jocose, to be sure!' m'leod encouraged the fancy of dr johnson's becoming owner of an island; told him, that it was the practice in this country to name every man by his lands; and begged leave to drink to him in that mode: 'island isa, your health!' ulinish, talisker, mr m'queen, and i, all joined in our different manners, while dr johnson bowed to each, with much good humour. we had good weather, and a fine sail this day. the shore was varied with hills, and rocks, and corn-fields, and bushes, which are here dignified with the name of natural wood. we landed near the house of ferneley, a farm possessed by another gentleman of the name of m'leod, who, expecting our arrival, was waiting on the shore, with a horse for dr johnson. the rest of us walked. at dinner, i expressed to m'leod the joy which i had in seeing him on such cordial terms with his clan. 'government,' said he, 'has deprived us of our ancient power; but it cannot deprive us of our domestick satisfactions. i would rather drink punch in one of their houses' (meaning the houses of his people) 'than be enabled by their hardships, to have claret in my own.' this should be the sentiment of every chieftain. all that he can get by raising his rents, is more luxury in his own house. is it not better to share the profits of his estate, to a certain degree, with his kinsmen, and thus have both social intercourse and patriarchal influence? we had a very good ride, for about three miles, to talisker, where colonel m'leod introduced us to his lady. we found here mr donald m'lean, the young laird of col (nephew to talisker), to whom i delivered the letter with which i had been favoured by his uncle, professor m'leod, at aberdeen. he was a little lively young man. we found he had been a good deal in england, studying farming, and was resolved to improve the value of his father's lands, without oppressing his tenants, or losing the ancient highland fashions. talisker is a better place than one commonly finds in sky. it is situated in a rich bottom. before it is a wide expanse of sea, on each hand of which are immense rocks; and, at some distance in the sea, there are three columnal rocks rising to sharp points. the billows break with prodigious force and noise on the coast of talisker. there are here a good many well-grown trees. talisker is an extensive farm. the possessor of it has, for several generations, been the next heir to m'leod, as there has been but one son always in that family. the court before the house is most injudiciously paved with the round blueish-grey pebbles which are found upon the sea-shore; so that you walk as if upon cannon-balls driven into the ground. after supper, i talked of the assiduity of the scottish clergy, in visiting and privately instructing their parishioners, and observed how much in this they excelled the english clergy. dr johnson would not let this pass. he tried to turn it off, by saying, 'there are different ways of instructing. our clergy pray and preach.' m'leod and i pressed the subject, upon which he grew warm, and broke forth: 'i do not believe your people are better instructed. if they are, it is the blind leading the blind; for your clergy are not instructed themselves.' thinking he had gone a little too far, he checked himself, and added, 'when i talk of the ignorance of your clergy, i talk of them as a body: i do not mean that there are not individuals who are learned' (looking at mr m'queen). 'i suppose there are such among the clergy in muscovy. the clergy of england have produced the most valuable books in support of religion, both in theory and practice. what have your clergy done, since you sunk into presbyterianism? can you name one book of any value, on a religious subject, written by them?' we were silent. 'i'll help you. forbes wrote very well; but i believe he wrote before episcopacy was quite extinguished.' and then pausing a little, he said, 'yes, you have wishart against repentance.' [footnote: this was a dexterous mode of description, for the purpose of his argument; for what he alluded to was, a sermon published by the learned dr william wishart, formerly principal of the college at edinburgh, to warn men against confiding in a death-bed repentance, of the inefficacy of which he entertained notions very different from those of dr johnson.] boswell. 'but, sir, we are not contending for the superior learning of our clergy, but for their superior assiduity.' he bore us down again, with thundering against their ignorance, and said to me, 'i see you have not been well taught; for you have not charity.' he had been in some measure forced into this warmth, by the exulting air which i assumed; for, when he began, he said, 'since you will drive the nail!' he again thought of good mr m'queen, and, taking him by the hand, said, 'sir, i did not mean any disrespect to you.' here i must observe, that he conquered by deserting his ground, and not meeting the argument as i had put it. the assiduity of the scottish clergy is certainly greater than that of the english. his taking up the topick of their not having so much learning, was, though ingenious, yet a fallacy in logick. it was as if there should be a dispute whether a man's hair is well dressed, and dr johnson should say, 'sir, his hair cannot be well dressed; for he has a dirty shirt. no man who has not clean linen has his hair well dressed.' when some days afterwards he read this passage, he said, 'no, sir; i did not say that a man's hair could not be well dressed because he has not clean linen, but because he is bald.' he used one argument against the scottish clergy being learned, which i doubt was not good. 'as we believe a man dead till we know that he is alive; so we believe men ignorant till we know that they are learned.' now our maxim in law is, to presume a man alive, till we know he is dead. however, indeed, it may be answered, that we must first know he has lived; and that we have never known the learning of the scottish clergy. mr m'queen, though he was of opinion that dr johnson had deserted the point really in dispute, was much pleased with what he said, and owned to me, he thought it very just; and mrs m'leod was so much captivated by his eloquence, that she told me 'i was a good advocate for a bad cause.' friday, th september this was a good day. dr johnson told us, at breakfast, that he rode harder at a fox chase than any body. 'the english,' said he, 'are the only nation who ride hard a-hunting. a frenchman goes out upon a managed horse, and capers in the field, and no more thinks of leaping a hedge than of mounting a breach. lord powerscourt laid a wager, in france, that he would ride a great many miles in a certain short time. the french academicians set to work, and calculated that, from the resistance of the air, it was impossible. his lordship however performed it.' our money being nearly exhausted, we sent a bill for thirty pounds, drawn on sir william forbes and co. to lochbraccadale, but our messenger found it very difficult to procure cash for it; at length, however, he got us value from the master of a vessel which was to carry away some emigrants. there is a great scarcity of specie in sky. mr m'queen said he had the utmost difficulty to pay his servants' wages, or to pay for any little thing which he has to buy. the rents are paid in bills, which the drovers give. the people consume a vast deal of snuff and tobacco, for which they must pay ready money; and pedlers, who come about selling goods, as there is not a shop in the island, carry away the cash. if there were encouragement given to fisheries and manufacturers, there might be a circulation of money introduced. i got one-and-twenty shillings in silver at portree, which was thought a wonderful store. talisker, mr m'queen, and i, walked out, and looked at no less than fifteen different waterfalls near the house, in the space of about a quarter of a mile. we also saw cuchullin's well, said to have been the favourite spring of that ancient hero. i drank of it. the water is admirable. on the shore are many stones full of crystallizations in the heart. though our obliging friend, mr m'lean, was but the young laird, he had the title of col constantly given him. after dinner he and i walked to the top of prieshwell, a very high rocky hill, from whence there is a view of barra, the long island, bernera, the loch of dunvegan, part of rum, part of rasay, and a vast deal of the isle of sky. col, though he had come into sky with an intention to be at dunvegan, and pass a considerable time in the island, most politely resolved first to conduct us to mull, and then to return to sky. this was a very fortunate circumstance; for he planned an expedition for us of more variety than merely going to mull. he proposed we should flee the islands of egg, muck, col, and tyr-yi. in all these islands he could shew us every thing worth seeing; and in mull he said he should be as if at home, his father having lands there, and he a farm. dr johnson did not talk much to-day, but seemed intent in listening to the schemes of future excursion, planned by col. dr birch, however, being mentioned, he said, he had more anecdotes than any man. i said, percy had a great many; that he flowed with them like one of the brooks here. johnson. 'if percy is like one of the brooks here. birch was like the river thames. birch excelled percy in that, as much as percy excels goldsmith.' i mentioned lord hailes as a man of anecdote. he was not pleased with him, for publishing only such memorials and letters as were unfavourable for the stuart family. 'if,' said he, 'a man fairly warns you, "i am to give all the ill; do you find the good", he may: but if the object which he professes be to give a view of a reign, let him tell all the truth. i would tell truth of the two georges, or of that scoundrel, king william. granger's biographical history is full of curious anecdote, but might have been better done. the dog is a whig. i do not like much to see a whig in any dress; but i hate to see a whig in a parson's gown.' saturday, th september it was resolved that we should set out, in order to return to slate, to be in readiness to take boat whenever there should be a fair wind. dr johnson remained in his chamber writing a letter, and it was long before we could get him into motion. he did not come to breakfast, but had it sent to him. when he had finished his letter, it was twelve o'clock, and we should have set out at ten. when i went up to him, he said to me, 'do you remember a song which begins, "every island is a prison strongly guarded by the sea; kings and princes, for that reason, prisoners are, as well as we."' i suppose he had been thinking of our confined situation. he would fain have gone in a boat from hence, instead of riding back to slate. a scheme for it was proposed. he said, 'we'll not be driven tamely from it': but it proved impracticable. we took leave of m'leod and talisker, from whom we parted with regret. talisker, having been bred to physick, had a tincture of scholarship in his conversation, which pleased dr johnson, and he had some very good books; and being a colonel in the dutch service, he and his lady, in consequence of having lived abroad, had introduced the ease and politeness of the continent into this rude region. young col was now our leader. mr m'queen was to accompany us half a day more. we stopped at a little hut, where we saw an old woman grinding with the quern, the ancient highland instrument, which it is said was used by the romans, but which, being very slow in its operation, is almost entirely gone into disuse. the walls of the cottages in sky, instead of being one compacted mass of stones, are often formed by two exterior surfaces of stone, filled up with earth in the middle, which makes them very warm. the roof is generally bad. they are thatched, sometimes with straw, sometimes with heath, sometimes with fern. the thatch is secured by ropes of straw, or of heath; and, to fix the ropes, there is a stone tied to the end of each. these stones hang round the bottom of the roof, and make it look like a lady's hair in papers; but i should think that, when there is wind, they would come down, and knock people on the head. we dined at the inn at sconser, where i had the pleasure to find a letter from my wife. here we parted from our learned companion, mr donald m'queen. dr johnson took leave of him very affectionately, saying, 'dear sir, do not forget me!' we settled, that he should write an account of the isle of sky, which dr johnson promised to revise. he said, mr m'queen should tell all that he could; distinguishing what he himself knew, what was traditional, and what conjectural. we sent our horses round a point of land, that we might shun some very bad road; and resolved to go forward by sea. it was seven o'clock when we got into our boat. we had many showers, and it soon grew pretty dark. dr johnson sat silent and patient. once he said, as he looked on the black coast of sky--black, as being composed of rocks seen in the dusk--'this is very solemn.' our boatmen were rude singers, and seemed so like wild indians, that a very little imagination was necessary to give one an impression of being upon an american river. we landed at strolimus, from whence we got a guide to walk before us, for two miles, to corrichatachin. not being able to procure a horse for our baggage, i took one portmanteau before me, and joseph another. we had but a single star to light us on our way. it was about eleven when we arrived. we were most hospitably received by the master and mistress, who were just going to bed, but, with unaffected ready kindness, made a good fire, and at twelve o'clock at night had supper on the table. james macdonald, of knockow, kingsburgh's brother, whom we had seen at kingsburgh, was there. he shewed me a bond granted by the late sir james macdonald, to old kingsburgh, the preamble of which does so much honour to the feelings of that much-lamented gentleman, that i thought it worth transcribing. it was as follows:-- i, sir james macdonald, of macdonald, baronet, now, after arriving at my perfect age, from the friendship i bear to alexander macdonald of kingsburgh, and in return for the long and faithful services done and performed by him to my deceased father, and to myself during my minority, when he was one of my tutors and curators; being resolved, now that the said alexander macdonald is advanced in years, to contribute my endeavours for making his old age placid and comfortable, therefore he grants him an annuity of fifty pounds sterling. dr johnson went to bed soon. when one bowl of punch was finished, i rose, and was near the door, in my way up stairs to bed; but corrichatachin said, it was the first time col had been in his house, and he should have his bowl; and would not i join in drinking it? the heartiness of my honest landlord, and the desire of doing social honour to our very obliging conductor, induced me to sit down again. col's bowl was finished; and by that time we were well warmed. a third bowl was soon made, and that too was finished. we were cordial, and merry to a high degree; but of what passed i have no recollection, with any accuracy. i remember calling corrichatachin by the familiar appellation of corri, which his friends do. a fourth bowl was made, by which time col, and young m'kinnon, corrichatachin's son, slipped away to bed. i continued a little with corri and knockow; but at last i left them. it was near five in the morning when i got to bed. sunday, th september i awaked at noon, with a severe head-ach. i was much vexed that i should have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from dr johnson. i thought it very inconsistent with that conduct which i ought to maintain, while the companion of the rambler. about one he came into my room, and accosted me, 'what, drunk yet?' his tone of voice was not that of severe upbraiding; so i was relieved a little. 'sir,' said i, 'they kept me up.' he answered, 'no, you kept them up, you drunken dog.' this he said with good-humoured english pleasantry. soon afterwards, corrichatachin, col, and other friends assembled round my bed. corri had a brandy-bottle and glass with him, and insisted i should take a dram. 'ay,' said dr johnson, 'fill him drunk again. do it in the morning, that we may laugh at him all day. it is a poor thing for a fellow to get drunk at night, and sculk to bed, and let his friends have no sport.' finding him thus jocular, i became quite easy; and when i offered to get up, he very good-naturedly said, 'you need be in no such hurry now.' [footnote: my ingenuously relating this occasional instance of intemperance has i find been made the subject both of serious criticism and ludicrous banter. with the banterers i shall not trouble myself, but i wonder that those who pretend to the appellation of serious criticks should not have had sagacity enough to perceive that here, as in every other part of the present work, my principal object was to delineate dr johnson's manners and character. in justice to him i would not omit an anecdote, which, though in some degree to my own disadvantage, exhibits in so strong a light the indulgence and good humour with which he could treat those excesses in his friends, of which he highly disapproved. in some other instances, the criticks have been equally wrong as to the true motive of my recording particulars, the objections to which i saw as clearly as they. but it would be an endless talk for an authour to point out upon every occasion the precise object he has in view. contenting himself with the approbation of readers of discernment and taste, he ought not to complain that some are found who cannot or will not understand him.] i took my host's advice, and drank some brandy, which i found an effectual cure for my head-ach. when i rose, i went into dr johnson's room, and taking up mrs m'kinnon's prayer-book, i opened it at the twentieth sunday after trinity, in the epistle for which i read, 'and be not drunk with wine, wherein there is excess.' some would have taken this as a divine interposition. mrs m'kinnon told us at dinner, that old kingsburgh, her father, was examined at mugstot, by general campbell, as to the particulars of the dress of the person who had come to his house in woman's clothes, along with miss flora m'donald; as the general had received intelligence of that disguise. the particulars were taken down in writing, that it might be seen how far they agreed with the dress of the 'irish girl' who went with miss flora from the long island. kingsburgh, she said, had but one song, which he always sung when he was merry over a glass. she dictated the words to me, which are foolish enough: green sleeves and pudding pies, tell me where my mistress lies, and i'll be with her before the rise, fiddle and aw' together. may our affairs abroad succeed, and may our king come home with speed, and all pretenders shake for dread, and let his health go round. to all our injured friends in need, this side and beyond the tweed! let all pretenders shake for dread, and let his health go round. green sleeves, &c. while the examination was going on, the present talisker, who was there as one of m'leod's militia, could not resist the pleasantry of asking kingsburgh, in allusion to his only song, 'had she green sleeves?' kingsburgh gave him no answer. lady margaret m'donald was very angry at talisker for joking on such a serious occasion, as kingsburgh was really in danger of his life. mrs m'kinnon added that lady margaret was quite adored in sky. that when she travelled through the island, the people ran in crowds before her, and took the stones off the road, lest her horse should stumble and she be hurt. her husband, sir alexander, is also remembered with great regard. we were told that every week a hogshead of claret was drunk at his table. this was another day of wind and rain; but good cheer and good society helped to beguile the time. i felt myself comfortable enough in the afternoon. i then thought that my last night's riot was no more than such a social excess as may happen without much moral blame; and recollected that some physicians maintained, that a fever produced by it was, upon the whole, good for health: so different are our reflections on the same subject, at different periods; and such the excuses with which we palliate what we know to be wrong. monday, th september mr donald m'leod, our original guide, who had parted from us at dunvegan, joined us again to-day. the weather was still so bad that we could not travel. i found a closet here, with a good many books, beside those that were lying about. dr johnson told me, he found a library in his room at talisker; and observed, that it was one of the remarkable things of sky, that there were so many books in it. though we had here great abundance of provisions, it is remarkable that corrichatachin has literally no garden: not even a turnip, a carrot or a cabbage. after dinner, we talked of the crooked spade used in sky, already described, and they maintained that it was better than the usual garden-spade, and that there was an art in tossing it, by which those who were accustomed to it could work very easily with it. 'nay,' said dr johnson, 'it may be useful in land where there are many stones to raise; but it certainly is not a good instrument for digging good land. a man may toss it, to be sure; but he will toss a light spade much better: its weight makes it an incumbrance. a man may dig any land with it; but he has no occasion for such a weight in digging good land. you may take a field-piece to shoot sparrows; but all the sparrows you can bring home will not be worth the charge.' he was quite social and easy amongst them; and, though he drank no fermented liquor, toasted highland beauties with great readiness. his conviviality engaged them so much, that they seemed eager to shew their attention to him, and vied with each other in crying out, with a strong celtick pronunciation, 'toctor shonson, toctor shonson, your health!' this evening one of our married ladies, a lively pretty little woman, good-humouredly sat down upon dr johnson's knee, and, being encouraged by some of the company, put her hands round his neck, and kissed him. 'do it again,' said he, 'and let us see who will tire first.' he kept her on his knee some time, while he and she drank tea. he was now like a buck indeed. all the company were much entertained to find him so easy and pleasant. to me it was highly comick, to see the grave philosopher--the rambler--toying with a highland beauty! but what could he do? he must have been surly, and weak too, had he not behaved as he did. he would have been laughed at, and not more respected, though less loved. he read to-night, to himself, as he sat in company, a great deal of my journal, and said to me, 'the more i read of this, i think the more highly of you.' the gentlemen sat a long time at their punch, after he and i had retired to our chambers. the manner in which they were attended struck me as singular: the bell being broken, a smart lad lay on a table in the corner of the room, ready to spring up and bring the kettle, whenever it was wanted. they continued drinking, and singing erse songs, till near five in the morning, when they all came into my room, where some of them had beds. unluckily for me, they found a bottle of punch in a corner, which they drank; and corrichatachin went for another, which they also drank. they made many apologies for disturbing me. i told them, that, having been kept awake by their mirth, i had once thoughts of getting up, and joining them again. honest corrichatachin said, 'to have had you done so, i would have given a cow.' tuesday, th september the weather was worse than yesterday. i felt as if imprisoned. dr johnson said, it was irksome to be detained thus: yet he seemed to have less uneasiness, or more patience, than i had. what made our situation worse here was, that we had no rooms that we could command; for the good people had no notion that a man could have any occasion but for a mere sleeping-place; so, during the day, the bed-chambers were common to all the house. servants eat in dr johnson's; and mine was a kind of general rendezvous of all under the roof, children and dogs not excepted. as the gentlemen occupied the parlour, the ladies had no place to sit in, during the day, but dr johnson's room. i had always some quiet time for writing in it, before he was up; and, by degrees, i accustomed the ladies to let me sit in it after breakfast, at my journal, without minding me. dr johnson was this morning for going to see as many islands as we could; not recollecting the uncertainty of the season, which might detain us in one place for many weeks. he said to me, 'i have more the spirit of adventure than you.' for my part, i was anxious to get to mull, from whence we might almost any day reach the main land. dr johnson mentioned, that the few ancient irish gentlemen yet remaining have the highest pride of family; that mr sandford, a friend of his, whose mother was irish, told him, that o'hara (who was true irish, both by father and mother) and he, and mr ponsonby, son to the earl of besborough, the greatest man of the three, but of an english family, went to see one of those ancient irish, and that he distinguished them thus: 'o'hara, you are welcome! mr sandford, your mother's son, is welcome! mr ponsonby, you may sit down.' he talked both of threshing and thatching. he said, it was very difficult to determine how to agree with a thresher. 'if you pay him by the day's wages, he will thresh no more than he pleases; though, to be sure, the negligence of a thresher is more easily detected than that of most labourers, because he must always make a sound while he works. if you pay him by the piece, by the quantity of grain which he produces, he will thresh only while the grain comes freely, and, though he leaves a good deal in the ear, it is not worth while to thresh the straw over again; nor can you fix him to do it sufficiently, because it is so difficult to prove how much less a man threshes than he ought to do. here then is a dilemma: but, for my part, i would engage him by the day; i would rather trust his idleness than his fraud.' he said, a roof thatched with lincolnshire reeds would last seventy years, as he was informed when in that county; and that he told this in london to a great thatcher, who said, he believed it might be true. such are the pains that dr johnson takes to get the best information on every subject. he proceeded: 'it is difficult for a farmer in england to find day- labourers, because the lowest manufacturers can always get more than a day-labourer. it is of no consequence how high the wages of manufacturers are; but it would be of very bad consequence to raise the wages of those who procure the immediate necessaries of life, for that would raise the price of provisions. here then is a problem for politicians. it is not reasonable that the most useful body of men should be the worst paid; yet it does not appear how it can be ordered otherwise. it were to be wished, that a mode for its being otherwise were found out. in the mean time, it is better to give temporary assistance by charitable contributions to poor labourers, at times when provisions are high, than to raise their wages; because, if wages are once raised, they will never get down again.' happily the weather cleared up between one and two o'clock, and we got ready to depart; but our kind host and hostess would not let us go without taking a 'snatch', as they called it; which was in truth a very good dinner. while the punch went round, dr johnson kept a close whispering conference with mrs m'kinnon, which, however, was loud enough to let us hear that the subject of it was the particulars of prince charles's escape. the company were entertained and pleased to observe it. upon that subject, there was something congenial between the soul of dr samuel johnson, and that of an isle of sky farmer's wife. it is curious to see people, how far soever removed from each other in the general system of their lives, come close together on a particular point which is common to each. we were merry with corrichatachin, on dr johnson's whispering with his wife. she, perceiving this, humorously cried, 'i am in love with him. what is it to live and not to love?' upon her saying something, which i did not hear, or cannot recollect, he seized her hand eagerly, and kissed it. as we were going, the scottish phrase of 'honest man!' which is an expression of kindness and regard, was again and again applied by the company to dr johnson. i was also treated with much civility; and i must take some merit from my assiduous attention to him, and from my contriving that he shall be easy wherever he goes, that he shall not be asked twice to eat or drink any thing (which always disgusts him), that he shall be provided with water at his meals, and many such little things, which, if not attended to would fret him. i also may be allowed to claim some merit in leading the conversation: i do not mean leading, as in an orchestra, by playing the first fiddle; but leading as one does in examining a witness--starting topics, and making him pursue them. he appears to me like a great mill, into which a subject is thrown to be ground. it requires, indeed, fertile minds to furnish materials for this mill. i regret whenever i see it unemployed; but sometimes i feel myself quite barren, and having nothing to throw in. i know not if this mill be a good figure; though pope makes his mind a mill for turning verses. we set out about four. young corrichatachin went with us. we had a fine evening, and arrived in good time at ostig, the residence of mr martin m'pherson, minister of slate. it is a pretty good house, built by his father, upon a farm near the church. we were received here with much kindness by mr and mrs m'pherson, and his sister, miss m'pherson, who pleased dr johnson much, by singing erse songs, and playing on the guittar. he afterwards sent her a present of his rasselas. in his bed-chamber was a press stored with books, greek, latin, french, and english, most of which had belonged to the father of our host, the learned dr m'pherson; who, though his dissertations have been mentioned in a former page as unsatisfactory, was a man of distinguished talents. dr johnson looked at a latin paraphrase of the song of moses, written by him, and published in the scots magazine for , and said, 'it does him honour; he has a great deal of latin, and good latin.' dr m'pherson published also in the same magazine, june , an original latin ode, which he wrote from the isle of barra, where he was minister for some years. it is very poetical, and exhibits a striking proof how much all things depend upon comparison: for barra, it seems, appeared to him so much worse than sky, his natale solum, that he languished for its 'blessed mountains', and thought himself buried alive amongst barbarians where he was. my readers will probably not be displeased to have a specimen of this ode: hei mihi! quantos patior dolores, dum procul specto juga ter beata; dum ferae barrae steriles arenas solus oberro. ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter barbaros thulen lateam colentes; torpeo languens, morior sepultus, carcere coeco. after wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in his view, from what he calls 'thule', as being the most western isle of scotland, except st kilda; after describing the pleasures of society, and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming propriety, has recourse to the only sure relief of thinking men--sursum corda, the hope of a better world--and disposes his mind to resignation: interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas: erigor sursum quoties subit spes certa migrandi solymam supernam, numinis aulam. he concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety: vita tum demum vocitanda vita est. tum licet gratos socios habere, seraphim et sanctos triadem verendam concelebrantes. wednesday, th september after a very good sleep, i rose more refreshed than i had been for some nights. we were now at but a little distance from the shore, and saw the sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer. mr m'pherson's manners and address pleased us much. he appeared to be a man of such intelligence and taste as to be sensible of the extraordinary powers of his illustrious guest. he said to me, 'dr johnson is an honour to mankind; and, if the expression may be used, is an honour to religion.' col, who had gone yesterday to pay a visit at camuscross, joined us this morning at breakfast. some other gentlemen also came to enjoy the entertainment of dr johnson's conversation. the day was windy and rainy, so that we had just seized a happy interval for our journey last night. we had good entertainment here, better accommodation than at corrichatachin, and time enough to ourselves. the hours slipped along imperceptibly. we talked of shenstone. dr johnson said, he was a good layer-out of land, but would not allow him to approach excellence as a poet. he said, he believed he had tried to read all his love pastorals, but did not get through them. i repeated the stanza, '"she gazed as i slowly withdrew; my path i could hardly discern; so sweetly she bade me adieu, i thought that she bade me return."' he said, 'that seems to be pretty.' i observed that shenstone, from his short maxims in prose, appeared to have some power of thinking; but dr johnson would not allow him that merit. he agreed, however, with shenstone, that it was wrong in the brother of one of his correspondents to burn his letters; 'for,' said he, 'shenstone was a man whose correspondence was an honour.' he was this afternoon full of critical severity, and dealt about his censures on all sides. he said, hammond's love elegies were poor things. he spoke contemptuously of our lively and elegant, though too licentious, lyrick bard, hanbury williams, and said, 'he had no fame, but from boys who drank with him'. while he was in this mood, i was unfortunate enough, simply perhaps, but, i could not help thinking, undeservedly, to come within 'the whiff and wind of his fell sword'. i asked him, if he had ever been accustomed to wear a night-cap. he said 'no.' i asked, if it was best not to wear one. johnson. 'sir, i had this custom by chance, and perhaps no man shall ever know whether it is best to sleep with or without a night-cap.' soon afterwards he was laughing at some deficiency in the highlands, and said, 'one might as well go without shoes and stockings.' thinking to have a little hit at his own deficiency, i ventured to add, 'or without a night-cap, sir'. but i had better have been silent; for he retorted directly, 'i do not see the connection there' (laughing). 'nobody before was ever foolish enough to ask whether it was best to wear a night-cap or not. this comes of being a little wrong-headed.' he carried the company along with him: and yet the truth is, that if he had always worn a night-cap, as is the common practice, and found the highlanders did not wear one, he would have wondered at their barbarity; so that my hit was fair enough. thursday, th september there was as great a storm of wind and rain as i have almost ever seen, which necessarily confined us to the house; but we were fully compensated by dr johnson's conversation. he said, he did not grudge burke's being the first man in the house of commons, for he was the first man every where; but he grudged that a fellow who makes no figure in company, and has a mind as narrow as the neck of a vinegar cruet, should make a figure in the house of commons, merely by having the knowledge of a few forms, and being furnished with a little occasional information. [footnote: he did not mention the name of any particular person; but those who are conversant with the political world will probably recollect more persons than one to whom this observation may be applied.] he told us, the first time he saw dr young was at the house of mr richardson, the author of clarissa. he was sent for, that the doctor might read to him his conjectures on original composition, which he did, and dr johnson made his remarks; and he was surprised to find young receive as novelties, what he thought very common maxims. he said, he believed young was not a great scholar, nor had studied regularly the art of writing; that there were very fine things in his night thoughts, though you could not find twenty lines together without some extravagance. he repeated two passages from his love of fame--the characters of brunetta and stella, which he praised highly. he said young pressed him much to come to wellwyn. he always intended it, but never went. he was sorry when young died. the cause of quarrel between young and his son, he told us, was, that his son insisted young should turn away a clergyman's widow, who lived with him, and who, having acquired great influence over the father, was saucy to the son. dr johnson said, she could not conceal her resentment at him, for saying to young, that 'an old man should not resign himself to the management of any body.' i asked him, if there was any improper connection between them. 'no, sir, no more than between two statues. he was past fourscore, and she a very coarse woman. she read to him, and, i suppose, made his coffee, and frothed his chocolate, and did such things as an old man wishes to have done for him.' dr dodridge being mentioned, he observed that 'he was author of one of the finest epigrams in the english language. it is in orton's life of him. the subject is his family-motto, dum vivimus, vivamus; which, in its primary signification, is, to be sure, not very suitable to a christian divine; but he paraphrased it thus: "live, while you live, the epicure would say, and seize the pleasures of the present day. live, while you live, the sacred preacher cries, and give to god each moment as it flies. lord, in my views let both united be; i live in pleasure, when i live to thee."' i asked if it was not strange that government should permit so many infidel writings to pass without censure. johnson. 'sir, it is mighty foolish. it is for want of knowing their own power. the present family on the throne came to the crown against the will of nine tenths of the people. whether those nine tenths were right or wrong, it is not our business now to inquire. but such being the situation of the royal family, they were glad to encourage all who would be their friends. now you know every bad man is a whig; every man who has loose notions. the church was all against this family. they were, as i say, glad to encourage any friends; and therefore, since their accession, there is no instance of any man being kept back on account of his bad principles; and hence this inundation of impiety.' i observed that mr hume, some of whose writings were very unfavourable to religion, was, however, a tory. johnson. 'sir, hume is a tory by chance, as being a scotchman; but not upon a principle of duty; for he has no principle. if he is any thing, he is a hobbist.' there was something not quite serene in his humour to night, after supper; for he spoke of hastening away to london, without stopping much at edinburgh. i reminded him, that he had general oughton and many others to see. johnson. 'nay, i shall neither go in jest, nor stay in jest. i shall do what is fit.' boswell. 'ay, sir, but all i desire is, that you will let me tell you when it is fit.' johnson. 'sir, i shall not consult you.' boswell. 'if you are to run away from us, as soon as you get loose, we will keep you confined in an island.' he was, however, on the whole, very good company. mr donald m'leod expressed very well the gradual impression made by dr johnson on those who are so fortunate as to obtain his acquaintance. 'when you see him first, you are struck with awful reverence; then you admire him; and then you love him cordially.' i read this evening some part of voltaire's history of the war in , and of lord kames against hereditary indefeasible right. this is a very slight circumstance, with which i should not trouble my reader, but for the sake of observing, that every man should keep minutes of whatever he reads. every circumstance of his studies should be recorded; what books he has consulted; how much of them he has read; at what times; how often the same authors; and what opinions he formed of them, at different periods of his life. such an account would much illustrate the history of his mind. friday, st october i shewed to dr johnson verses in a magazine, on his dictionary, composed of uncommon words taken from it: little of anthropopathy has he, &c." he read a few of them, and said, 'i am not answerable for all the words in my dictionary.' i told him, that garrick kept a book of all who had either praised or abused him. on the subject of his own reputation, he said, 'now that i see it has been so current a topick, i wish i had done so too; but it could not well be done now, as so many things are scattered in newspapers.' he said he was angry at a boy of oxford, who wrote in his defence against kenrick; because it was doing him hurt to answer kenrick. he was told afterwards, the boy was to come to him to ask a favour. he first thought to treat him rudely, on account of his meddling in that business; but then he considered, he had meant to do him all the service in his power, and he took another resolution; he told him he would do what he could for him, and did so, and the boy was satisfied. he said, he did not know how his pamphlet was done, as he had read very little of it. the boy made a good figure at oxford, but died. he remarked, that attacks on authors did them much service. 'a man who tells me my play is very bad, is less my enemy than he who lets it die in silence. a man, whose business it is to be talked of, is much helped at being attacked.' garrick, i observed, had been often so helped. johnson. 'yes, sir; though garrick had more opportunities than almost any man, to keep the publick in mind of him, by exhibiting himself to such numbers, he would not have had so much reputation, had he not been so much attacked. every attack produces a defence; and so attention is engaged. there is no sport in mere praise, when people are all of a mind.' boswell. 'then hume is not the worse for seattle's attack?' johnson. 'he is, because beattie has confuted him. i do not say, but that there may be some attacks which will hurt an author. though hume suffered from beattie, he was the better for other attacks.' (he certainly could not include in that number those of dr adams, and mr tytler.) boswell. 'goldsmith is the better for attacks.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but he does not think so yet. when goldsmith and i published, each of us something, at the same time, we were given to understand that we might review each other. goldsmith was for accepting the offer. i said, no; set reviewers at defiance. it was said to old bentley, upon the attacks against him, "why, they'll write you down." "no, sir," he replied; "depend upon it, no man was ever written down but by himself."' he observed to me afterwards, that the advantages authours derived from attacks, were chiefly in subjects of taste, where you cannot confute, as so much may be said on either side. he told me he did not know who was the authour of the adventures of a guinea, but that the bookseller had sent the first volume to him in manuscript, to have his opinion if it should be printed; and he thought it should. the weather being now somewhat better, mr james m'donald, factor to sir alexander m'donald in slate, insisted that all the company at ostig should go to the house at armidale, which sir alexander had left having gone with his lady to edinburgh, and be his guests, till we had an opportunity of sailing to mull. we accordingly got there to dinner; and passed our day very cheerfully, being no less than fourteen in number. saturday, d october dr johnson said, that 'a chief and his lady should make their house like a court. they should have a certain number of the gentlemen's daughters to receive their education in the family, to learn pastry and such things from the housekeeper, and manners from my lady. that was the way in the great families in wales; at lady salisbury's, mrs thrale's grandmother, and at lady philips's. i distinguish the families by the ladies, as i speak of what was properly their province. there were always six young ladies at sir john philips's: when one was married, her place was filled up. there was a large school-room, where they learnt needlework and other things.' i observed, that, at some courts in germany, there were academies for the pages, who are the sons of gentlemen, and receive their education without any expence to their parents. dr johnson said, that manners were best learnt at those courts. 'you are admitted with great facility to the prince's company, and yet must treat him with much respect. at a great court, you are at such a distance that you get no good.' i said, 'very true: a man sees the court of versailles, as if he saw it on a theatre.' he said, 'the best book that ever was written upon good breeding, il corteggiano, by castiglione, grew up at the little court of urbino, and you should read it.' i am glad always to have his opinion of books. at mr m'pherson's, he commended whitby's commentary, and said, he had heard him called rather lax; but he did not perceive it. he had looked at a novel, called the man of the world, at rasay, but thought there was nothing in it. he said to-day, while reading my journal, 'this will be a great treasure to us some years hence.' talking of a very penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, he observed, that he exceeded l'avare in the play. i concurred with him, and remarked that he would do well, if introduced in one of foote's farces; that the best way to get it done, would be to bring foote to be entertained at his house for a week, and then it would be facit indignatio. johnson. 'sir, i wish he had him. i, who have eaten his bread, will not give him to him, but i should be glad he came honestly by him.' he said, he was angry at thrale, for sitting at general oglethorpe's without speaking. he censured a man for degrading himself to a non-entity. i observed, that goldsmith was on the other extreme; for he spoke at all ventures. johnson. 'yes, sir; goldsmith, rather than not speak, will talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which can only end in exposing him.' 'i wonder,' said i, 'if he feels that he exposes himself. if he was with two taylors...' 'or with two founders,' said dr johnson, interrupting me, 'he would fall a talking on the method of making cannon, though both of them would soon see that he did not know what metal a cannon is made of.' we were very social and merry in his room this forenoon. in the evening the company danced as usual. we performed, with much activity, a dance which, i suppose, the emigration from sky has occasioned. they call it 'america'. each of the couples, after the common involutions and evolutions, successively whirls round in a circle, till all are in motion; and the dance seems intended to shew how emigration catches, till a whole neighbourhood is set afloat. mrs m'kinnon told me, that last year when a ship sailed from portree for america, the people on shore were almost distracted when they saw their relations go off; they lay down on the ground, tumbled, and tore the grass with their teeth. this year there was not a tear shed. the people on shore seemed to think that they would soon follow. this indifference is a mortal sign for the country. we danced to night to the musick of the bagpipe, which made us beat the ground with prodigious force. i thought it better to endeavour to conciliate the kindness of the people of sky, by joining heartily in their amusements, than to play the abstract scholar. i looked on this tour to the hebrides as a copartnership between dr johnson and me. each was to do all he could to promote its success; and i have some reason to flatter myself, that my gayer exertions were of service to us. dr johnson's immense fund of knowledge and wit was a wonderful source of admiration and delight to them; but they had it only at times; and they required to have the intervals agreeably filled up, and even little elucidations of his learned text. i was also fortunate enough frequently to draw him forth to talk, when he would otherwise have been silent. the fountain was at times locked up, till i opened the spring. it was curious to hear the hebridians, when any dispute happened while he was out of the room, saying, 'stay till dr johnson comes: say that to him!' yesterday dr johnson said, 'i cannot but laugh, to think of myself roving among the hebrides at sixty. i wonder where i shall rove at fourscore!' this evening he disputed the truth of what is said, as to the people of st kilda catching cold whenever strangers come. 'how can there,' said he, 'be a physical effect without a physical cause?' he added, laughing, 'the arrival of a ship full of strangers would kill them; for, if one stranger gives them one cold, two strangers must give them two colds; and so in proportion.' i wondered to hear him ridicule this, as he had praised m'aulay for putting it in his book: saying, that it was manly in him to tell a fact, however strange, if he himself believed it. he said, the evidence was not adequate to the improbability of the thing; that if a physician, rather disposed to be incredulous, should go to st kilda, and report the fact, then he would begin to look about him. they said, it was annually proved by m'leod's steward, on whose arrival all the inhabitants caught cold. he jocularly remarked, 'the steward always comes to demand something from them; and so they fall a coughing. i suppose the people in sky all take a cold, when--' (naming a certain person) 'comes.' they said, he came only in summer. johnson. 'that is out of tenderness to you. bad weather and he, at the same time, would be too much.' sunday, d october joseph reported that the wind was still against us. dr johnson said, 'a wind, or not a wind? that is the question'; for he can amuse himself at times with a little play of words, or rather sentences. i remember when he turned his cup at aberbrothick, where we drank tea, he muttered, claudite jam rivos, pueri. i must again and again apologize to fastidious readers, for recording such minute particulars. they prove the scrupulous fidelity of my journal. dr johnson said it was a very exact picture of a portion of his life. while we were chatting in the indolent stile of men who were to stay here all this day at least, we were suddenly roused at being told that the wind was fair, that a little fleet of herring-busses was passing by for mull, and that mr simpson's vessel was about to sail. hugh m'donald, the skipper, came to us, and was impatient that we should get ready, which we soon did. dr johnson, with composure and solemnity, repeated the observation of epictetus, that, 'as man has the voyage of death before him, whatever may be his employment, he should be ready at the master's call; and an old man should never be far from the shore, lest he should not be able to get himself ready'. he rode, and i and the other gentlemen walked, about an english mile to the shore, where the vessel lay. dr johnson said, he should never forget sky, and returned thanks for all civilities. we were carried to the vessel in a small boat which she had, and we set sail very briskly about one o'clock. i was much pleased with the motion for many hours. dr johnson grew sick, and retired under cover, as it rained a good deal. i kept above, that i might have fresh air, and finding myself not affected by the motion of the vessel, i exulted in being a stout seaman, while dr johnson was quite in a state of annihilation. but i was soon humbled; for after imagining that i could go with ease to america or the east indies, i became very sick, but kept above board, though it rained hard. as we had been detained so long in sky by bad weather, we gave up the scheme that col had planned for us of visiting several islands, and contented ourselves with the prospect of seeing mull, and icolmkill and inchkenneth, which lie near to it. mr simpson was sanguine in his hopes for a-while, the wind being fair for us. he said, he would land us at icolmkill that night. but when the wind failed, it was resolved we should make for the sound of mull, and land in the harbour of tobermorie. we kept near the five herring vessels for some time; but afterwards four of them got before us, and one little wherry fell behind us. when we got in full view of the point of ardnamurchan, the wind changed, and was directly against our getting into the sound. we were then obliged to tack, and get forward in that tedious manner. as we advanced, the storm grew greater, and the sea very rough. col then began to talk of making for egg, or canna, or his own island. our skipper said, he would get us into the sound. having struggled for this a good while in vain, he said, he would push forward till we were near the land of mull, where we might cast anchor, and lie till the morning; for although, before this, there had been a good moon, and i had pretty distinctly seen not only the land of mull, but up the sound, and the country of morven as at one end of it, the night was now grown very dark. our crew consisted of one m'donald, our skipper, and two sailors, one of whom had but one eye; mr simpson himself, col, and hugh m'donald his servant, all helped. simpson said, he would willingly go for col, if young col or his servant would undertake to pilot us to a harbour; but, as the island is low land, it was dangerous to run upon it in the dark. col and his servant appeared a little dubious. the scheme of running for canna seemed then to be embraced; but canna was ten leagues off, all out of our way; and they were afraid to attempt the harbour of egg. all these different plans were sucessively in agitation. the old skipper still tried to make for the land of mull, but then it was considered that there was no place there where we could anchor in safety. much time was lost in striving against the storm. at last it became so rough, and threatened to be so much worse, that col and his servant took more courage, and said they would undertake to hit one of the harbours in col. 'then let us run for it in god's name,' said the skipper; and instantly we turned towards it. the little wherry which had fallen behind us, had hard work. the master begged that, if we made for col, we should put out a light to him. accordingly one of the sailors waved a glowing peat for some time. the various difficulties that were started, gave me a good deal of apprehension, from which i was relieved, when i found we were to run for a harbour before the wind. but my relief was but of short duration; for i soon heard that our sails were very bad, and were in danger of being torn in pieces, in which case we should be driven upon the rocky shore of col. it was very dark, and there was a heavy and incessant rain. the sparks of the burning peat flew so much about, that i dreaded the vessel might take fire. then, as col was a sportman, and had powder on board, i figured that we might be blown up. simpson and he appeared a little frightened, which made me more so; and the perpetual talking, or rather shouting, which was carried on in erse, alarmed me still more. a man is always suspicious of what is saying in an unknown tongue; and, if fear be his passion at the time, he grows more afraid. our vessel often lay so much on one side, that i trembled lest she should be overset, and indeed they told me afterwards, that they had run her sometimes to within an inch of the water, so anxious were they to make what haste they could before the night should be worse. i now saw what i never saw before, a prodigious sea, with immense billows coming upon a vessel, so as that it seemed hardly possible to escape. there was something grandly horrible in the sight. i am glad i have seen it once. amidst all these terrifying circumstances, i endeavoured to compose my mind. it was not easy to do it; for all the stories that i had heard of the dangerous sailing among the hebrides, which is proverbial, came full upon my recollection. when i thought of those who were dearest to me, and would suffer severely, should i be lost, i upbraided myself, as not having a sufficient cause for putting myself in such danger. piety afforded me comfort; yet i was disturbed by the objections that have been made against a particular providence, and by the arguments of those who maintain that it is in vain to hope that the petitions of an individual, or even of congregations, can have any influence with the deity; objections which have been often made, and which dr hawkesworth has lately revived, in his preface to the voyages to the south seas; but dr ogden's excellent doctrine on the efficacy of intercession prevailed. it was half an hour after eleven before we set ourselves in the course for col. as i saw them all busy doing something, i asked col, with much earnestness, what i could do. he, with a happy readiness, put into my hand a rope, which was fixed to the top of one of the masts, and told me to hold it till he bade me pull. if i had considered the matter, i might have seen that this could not be of the least service; but his object was to keep me out of the way of those who were busy working the vessel, and at the same time to divert my fear, by employing me, and making me think that i was of use. thus did i stand firm to my post, while the wind and rain beat upon me, always expecting a call to pull my rope. the man with one eye steered; old m'donald, and col and his servant, lay upon the fore-castle, looking sharp out for the harbour. it was necessary to carry much 'cloth', as they termed it, that is to say, much sail, in order to keep the vessel off the shore of col. this made violent plunging in a rough sea. at last they spied the harbour of lochiern, and col cried, 'thank god, we are safe!' we ran up till we were opposite to it, and soon afterwards we got into it, and cast anchor. dr johnson had all this time been quiet and unconcerned. he had lain down on one of the beds, and having got free from sickness, was satisfied. the truth is, he knew nothing of the danger we were in: but, fearless and unconcerned, might have said, in the words which he has chosen for the motto to his rambler. quo me cunque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes. [footnote: for as the tempest drives, i shape my way. francis.] once, during the doubtful consultations, he asked whither we were going; and upon being told that it was not certain whether to mull or col, he cried, 'col for my money!' i now went down, with col and mr simpson, to visit him. he was lying in philosophick tranquillity with a greyhound of col's at his back, keeping him warm. col is quite the juvenis qui gaudet canibus. he had, when we left talisker, two greyhounds, two terriers, a pointer, and a large newfoundland water-dog. he lost one of his terriers by the road, but had still five dogs with him. i was very ill, and very desirous to get to shore. when i was told that we could not land that night, as the storm had now increased, i looked so miserably, as col afterwards informed me, that what shakspeare has made the frenchman say of the english soldiers, when scantily dieted, 'piteous they will look, like drowned mice!' might, i believe, have been well applied to me. there was in the harbour, before us, a campbelltown vessel, the betty, kenneth morison master, taking in kelp, and bound for ireland. we sent our boat to beg beds for two gentlemen, and that the master would send his boat, which was larger than ours. he accordingly did so, and col and i were accommodated in his vessel till the morning. monday, th october about eight o'clock we went in the boat to mr simpson's vessel, and took in dr johnson. he was quite well, though he had tasted nothing but a dish of tea since saturday night. on our expressing some surprise at this, he said, that, 'when he lodged in the temple, and had no regular system of life, he had fasted for two days at a time, during which he had gone about visiting, though not at the hours of dinner or supper; that he had drunk tea, but eaten no bread; that this was no intentional fasting, but happened just in the course of a literary life'. there was a little miserable publick-house close upon the shore, to which we should have gone, had we landed last night: but this morning col resolved to take us directly to the house of captain lauchlan m'lean, a descendant of his family, who had acquired a fortune in the east indies, and taken a farm in col. we had about an english mile to go to it. col and joseph, and some others, ran to some little horses, called here 'shelties', that were running wild on a heath, and catched one of them. we had a saddle with us, which was clapped upon it, and a straw-halter was put on its head. dr johnson was then mounted, and joseph very slowly and gravely led the horse. i said to dr johnson, 'i wish, sir, the club saw you in this attitude.' [footnote: this curious exhibition may perhaps remind some of my readers of the ludicrous lines, made, during sir robert walpole's administration, on mr george (afterwards lord) littelton, though the figures of the two personages must be allowed to be very different: but who is this astride the pony; so long, so lean, so lank, so bony dat be de great orator, littletony.] it was a very heavy rain, and i was wet to the skin. captain m'lean had but a poor temporary house, or rather hut; however, it was a very good haven to us. there was a blazing peat-fire, and mrs m'lean, daughter of the minister of the parish, got us tea. i felt still the motion of the sea. dr johnson said, it was not in imagination, but a continuation of motion on the fluids, like that of the sea itself after the storm is over. there were some books on the board which served as a chimney-piece. dr johnson took up burnet's history of his own times. he said, 'the first part of it is one of the most entertaining books in the english language; it is quite dramatick: while he went about every where, saw every where, and heard every where. by the first part, i mean so far as it appears that burnet himself was actually engaged in what he has told; and this may be easily distinguished.' captain m'lean censured burnet, for his high praise of lauderdale in a dedication, when he shews him in his history to have been so bad a man. johnson. 'i do not myself think that a man should say in a dedication what he could not say in a history. however, allowance should be made; for there is a great difference. the known style of a dedication is flattery: it professes to flatter. there is the same difference between what a man says in a dedication, and what he says in a history, as between a lawyer's pleading a cause, and reporting it.' the day passed away pleasantly enough. the wind became fair for mull in the evening, and mr simpson resolved to sail next morning: but having been thrown into the island of col, we were unwilling to leave it unexamined, especially as we considered that the campbell-town vessel would sail for mull in a day or two, and therefore we determined to stay. tuesday, th october i rose, and wrote my journal till about nine; and then went to dr johnson, who sat up in bed and talked and laughed. i said, it was curious to look back ten years, to the time when we first thought of visiting the hebrides. how distant and improbable the scheme then appeared! yet here we were actually among them. 'sir,' said he, 'people may come to do any thing almost, by talking of it. i really believe, i could talk myself into building a house upon island isa, though i should probably never come back again to see it. i could easily persuade reynolds to do it; and there would be no great sin in persuading him to do it. sir, he would reason thus: "what will it cost me to be there once in two or three summers? why, perhaps, five hundred pounds; and what is that, in comparison of having a fine retreat, to which a man can go, or to which he can send a friend " he would never find out that he may have this within twenty miles of london. then i would tell him, that he may marry one of the miss m'leods, a lady of great family. sir, it is surprising how people will go to a distance for what they may have at home. i knew a lady who came up from lincolnshire to knightsbridge with one of her daughters and gave five guineas a week for a lodging and a warm bath; that is, mere warm water. that, you know, could not be had in lincolnshire! she said, it was made either too hot or too cold there.' after breakfast, dr johnson and i, and joseph, mounted horses, and col and the captain walked with us about a short mile across the island. we paid a visit to the reverend mr hector m'lean. his parish consists of the islands of col and tyr-yi. he was about seventy-seven years of age, a decent ecclesiastick, dressed in a full suit of black clothes, and a black wig. he appeared like a dutch pastor, or one of the assembly of divines at westminster. dr johnson observed to me afterwards, 'that he was a fine old man, and was as well-dressed, and had as much dignity in his appearance as the dean of a cathedral'. we were told, that he had a valuable library, though but poor accomodation for it, being obliged to keep his books in large chests. it was curious to see him and dr johnson together. neither of them heard very distinctly; so each of them talked in his own way, and at the same time. mr m'lean said, he had a confutation of bayle, by leibnitz. johnson. 'a confutation of bayle, sir! what part of bayle do you mean? the greatest part of his writings is not confutable: it is historical and critical.' mr m'lean said, 'the irreligious part'; and proceeded to talk of leibnitz's controversy with clarke, calling leibnitz a great man. johnson. 'why, sir, leibnitz persisted in affirming that newton called space sensorium numinis, notwithstanding he was corrected, and desired to observe that newton's words were quasisensorium numinis. no, sir, leibnitz was as paltry a fellow as i know. out of respect to queen caroline, who patronized him, clarke treated him too well.' during the time that dr johnson was thus going on, the old minister was standing with his back to the fire, cresting up erect, pulling down the front of his periwig, and talking what a great man leibnitz was. to give an idea of the scene, would require a page with two columns; but it ought rather to be represented by two good players. the old gentleman said, clarke was very wicked, for going so much into the arian system. 'i will not say he was wicked,' said dr johnson; 'he might be mistaken.' m'lean. 'he was wicked, to shut his eyes against the scriptures; and worthy men in england have since confuted him to all intents and purposes.' johnson. 'i know not who has confuted him to all intents and purposes.' here again there was a double talking, each continuing to maintain his own argument, without hearing exactly what the other said. i regretted that dr johnson did not practice the art of accommodating himself to different sorts of people. had he been softer with this venerable old man, we might have had more conversation; but his forcible spirit; and impetuosity of manner, may be said to spare neither sex nor age. i have seen even mrs thrale stunned; but i have often maintained, that it is better he should retain his own manner. pliability of address i conceive to be inconsistent with that majestick power of mind which he possesses, and which produces such noble effects. a lofty oak will not bend like a supple willow. he told me afterwards, he liked firmness in an old man, and was pleased to see mr m'lean so orthodox. 'at his age, it is too late for a man to be asking himself questions as to his belief.' we rode to the northern part of the island, where we saw the ruins of a church or chapel. we then proceeded to a place called grissipol, or the rough pool. at grissipol we found a good farm house, belonging to the laird of col, and possessed by mr m'sweyn. on the beach here there is a singular variety of curious stones. i picked up one very like a small cucumber. by the by, dr johnson told me, that gay's line in the beggar's opera, 'as men should serve a cucumber,' &c. has no waggish meaning, with reference to men flinging away cucumbers as too cooling, which some have thought; for it has been a common saying of physicians in england, that a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing. mr m'sweyn's predecessors had been in sky from a very remote period, upon the estate belonging to m'leod; probably before m'leod had it. the name is certainly norwegian, from sueno, king of norway. the present mr m'sweyn left sky upon the late m'leod's raising his rents. he then got this farm from col. he appeared to be near fourscore; but looked as fresh, and was as strong as a man of fifty. his son hugh looked older; and, as dr johnson observed, had more the manners of an old man than he. i had often heard of such instances, but never saw one before. mrs m'sweyn was a decent old gentlewoman. she was dressed in tartan, and could speak nothing but erse. she said, she taught sir james m'donald erse, and would teach me soon. i could now sing a verse of the song hatyin foam'eri, made in honour of allan, the famous captain of clanranald, who fell at sherrif-muir; whose servant, who lay on the field watching his master's dead body, being asked next day who that was, answered, 'he was a man yesterday.' we were entertained here with a primitive heartiness. whisky was served round in a shell, according to the ancient highland custom. dr johnson would not partake of it; but, being desirous to do honour to the modes 'of other times', drank some water out of the shell. in the forenoon dr johnson said, 'it would require great resignation to live in one of these islands.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir; i have felt myself at times in a state of almost mere physical existence, satisfied to eat, drink, and sleep, and walk about, and enjoy my own thoughts; and i can figure a continuation of this.' johnson. 'ay, sir; but if you were shut up here, your own thoughts would torment you: you would think of edinburgh or london, and that you could not be there.' we set out after dinner for breacacha, the family seat of the laird of col, accompanied by the young laird, who had now got a horse, and by the younger mr m'sweyn, whose wife had gone thither before us, to prepare every thing for our reception, the laird and his family being absent at aberdeen. it is called breacacha, or the spotted field, because in summer it is enamelled with clover and daisies, as young col told me. we passed by a place where there is a very large stone, i may call it a rock--'a vast weight for ajax'. the tradition is, that a giant threw such another stone at his mistress, up to the top of a hill, at a small distance; and that she in return, threw this mass down to him. it was all in sport. malo me petit lasciva puella. as we advanced, we came to a large extent of plain ground. i had not seen such a place for a long time. col and i took a gallop upon it by way of race. it was very refreshing to me, after having been so long taking short steps in hilly countries. it was like stretching a man's legs after being cramped in a short bed. we also passed close by a large extent of sand-hills, near two miles square. dr johnson said, 'he never had the image before. it was horrible, if barrenness and danger could be so.' i heard him, after we were in the house of breacacha, repeating to himself, as he walked about the room, '"and smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies."' probably he had been thinking of the whole of the simile in cato, of which that is the concluding line; the sandy desart had struck him so strongly. the sand has of late been blown over a good deal of meadow; and the people of the island say, that their fathers remembered much of the space which is now covered with sand, to have been under tillage. col's house is situated on a bay called breacacha bay. we found here a neat new-built gentleman's house, better than any we had been in since we were at lord errol's. dr johnson relished it much at first, but soon remarked to me, that 'there was nothing becoming a chief about it: it was a mere tradesman's box.' he seemed quite at home, and no longer found any difficulty in using the highland address; for as soon as we arrived, he said, with a spirited familiarity, 'now, col, if you could get us a dish of tea,' dr johnson and i had each an excellent bed-chamber. we had a dispute which of us had the best curtains. his were rather the best, being of linen; but i insisted that my bed had the best posts, which was undeniable. 'well,' said he, 'if you have the best posts, we will have you tied to them and whipped.' i mention this slight circumstance, only to shew how ready he is, even in mere trifles, to get the better of his antagonist, by placing him in a ludicrous view. i have known him sometimes use the same art, when hard pressed in serious disputation. goldsmith, i remember, to retaliate for many a severe defeat which he has suffered from him, applied to him a lively saying in one of cibber's comedies, which puts this part of his character in a strong light. 'there is no arguing with johnson; for, if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the but-end of it.' wednesday, th october after a sufficiency of sleep, we assembled at breakfast. we were just as if in barracks. every body was master. we went and viewed the old castle of col, which is not far from the present house, near the shore, and founded on a rock. it has never been a large feudal residence, and has nothing about it that requires a particular description. like other old inconvenient buildings of the same age, it exemplified gray's picturesque lines, huge windows that exclude the light. and passages that lead to nothing. it may however be worth mentioning, that on the second story we saw a vault, which was, and still is, the family prison. there was a woman put into it by the laird, for theft, within these ten years; and any offender would be confined there yet; for, from the necessity of the thing, as the island is remote from any power established by law, the laird must exercise his jurisdiction to a certain degree. we were shewn, in a corner of this vault, a hole, into which col said greater criminals used to be put. it was now filled up with rubbish of different kinds. he said, it was of a great depth. 'ay,' said dr johnson, smiling, 'all such places, that are filled up, were of a great depth.' he is very quick in shewing that he does not give credit to careless or exaggerated accounts of things. after seeing the castle, we looked at a small hut near it. it is called teigh franchich, i.e. the frenchman's house. col could not tell us the history of it. a poor man with a wife and children now lived in it. we went into it, and dr johnson gave them some charity. there was but one bed for all the family, and the hut was very smoky. when he came out, he said to me, 'et hoc secundum sententiam philosophorum est esse beatus.' boswell. 'the philosophers, when they placed happiness in a cottage, supposed cleanliness and no smoke.' johnson. 'sir, they did not think about either.' we walked a little in the laird's garden, in which endeavours have been used to rear some trees; but, as soon as they got above the surrounding wall, they died. dr johnson recommended sowing the seeds of hardy trees, instead of planting. col and i rode out this morning, and viewed a part of the island. in the course of our ride, we saw a turnip-field, which he had hoed with his own hands. he first introduced this kind of husbandry into the western islands. we also looked at an appearance of lead, which seemed very promising. it has been long known; for i found letters to the late laird, from sir john areskine and sir alexander murray, respecting it. after dinner came mr m'lean, of corneck, brother to isle of muck, who is a cadet of the family of col. he possesses the two ends of col, which belong to the duke of argyll. corneck had lately taken a lease of them at a very advanced rent, rather than let the campbells get a footing in the island, one of whom had offered nearly as much as he. dr johnson well observed, that, 'landlords err much when they calculate merely what their land may yield. the rent must be in a proportionate ratio of what the land may yield, and of the power of the tenant to make it yield. a tenant cannot make by his land, but according to the corn and cattle which he has. suppose you should give him twice as much land as he has, it does him no good, unless he gets also more stock. it is clear then, that the highland landlords, who let their substantial tenants leave them, are infatuated; for the poor small tenants cannot give them good rents, from the very nature of things. they have not the means of raising more from their farms.' corneck, dr johnson said, was the most distinct man that he had met with in these isles; he did not shut his eyes, or put his fingers in his ears, which he seemed to think was a good deal the mode with most of the people whom we have seen of late. thursday, th october captain m'lean joined us this morning at breakfast. there came on a dreadful storm of wind and rain, which continued all day, and rather increased at night. the wind was directly against our getting to mull. we were in a strange state of abstraction from the world: we could neither hear from our friends, nor write to them. col had brought daille on the fathers, lucas on happiness, and more's dialogues, from the reverend mr m'lean's, and burnet's history of his own times, from captain m'lean's; and he had of his own some books of farming, and gregory's geometry. dr johnson read a good deal of burnet, and of gregory, and i observed he made some geometrical notes in the end of his pocket-book. i read a little of young's six weeks tour through the southern counties; and ovid's epistles, which i had bought at inverness, and which helped to solace many a weary hour. we were to have gone with dr johnson this morning to see the mine; but were prevented by the storm. while it was raging, he said, 'we may be glad we are not damnati ad metalla.' friday, th october dr johnson appeared to day very weary of our present confined situation. he said, 'i want to be on the main land, and go on with existence. this is a waste of life.' i shall here insert, without regard to chronology, some of his conversation at different times. 'there was a man some time ago, who was well received for two years, among the gentlemen of northamptonshire, by calling himself my brother. at last he grew so impudent as by his influence to get tenants turned out of their farms. allen the printer, who is of that county, came to me, asking, with much appearance of doubtfulness, if i had a brother; and upon being assured i had none alive, he told me of the imposition, and immediately wrote to the country, and the fellow was dismissed. it pleased me to hear that so much was got by using my name. it is not every name that can carry double; do both for a man's self and his brother'(laughing). 'i should be glad to see the fellow. however, i could have done nothing against him. a man can have no redress for his name being used, or ridiculous stories being told of him in the news-papers, except he can shew that he has suffered damage. some years ago a foolish piece was published, said to be written "by s. johnson". some of my friends wanted me to be very angry about this. i said, it would be in vain; for the answer would be, s. johnson may be simon johnson, or simeon johnson, or solomon johnson; and even if the full name, samuel johnson, had been used, it might be said; "it is not you; it is a much cleverer fellow." 'beauclerk and i, and langton, and lady sydney beauclerk, mother to our friend, were one day driving in a coach by cuper's gardens, which were then unoccupied. i, in sport, proposed that beauclerk and langton, and myself should take them; and we amused ourselves with scheming how we should all do our parts. lady sydney grew angry, and said, "an old man should not put such things in young people's heads". she had no notion of a joke, sir; had come late into life, and had a mighty unpliable understanding. 'carte's life of the duke of ormond is considered as a book of authority; but it is ill-written. the matter is diffused in too many words; there is no animation, no compression, no vigour. two good volumes in duodecimo might be made out of the two in folio.' talking of our confinement here, i observed, that our discontent and impatience could not be considered as very unreasonable; for that we were just in the state of which seneca complains so grievously, while in exile in corsica. 'yes,' said dr johnson, 'and he was not farther from home than we are.' the truth is, he was much nearer. there was a good deal of rain to-day, and the wind was still contrary. corneck attended me, while i amused myself in examining a collection of papers belonging to the family of col. the first laird was a younger son of the chieftain m'lean, and got the middle part of col for his patrimony. dr johnson having given a very particular account of the connection between this family and a branch of the family of camerons, called m'lonich, i shall only insert the following document (which i found in col's cabinet), as a proof of its continuance, even to a late period: to the laird of col. dear sir, the long-standing tract of firm affectionate friendship 'twixt your worthy predecessors and ours affords us such assurance, as that we may have full relyance on your favour and undoubted friendship, in recommending the bearer, ewen cameron, our cousin, son to the deceast dugall m'connill of innermaillie, sometime in glenpean, to your favour and conduct, who is a man of undoubted honesty and discretion, only that he has the misfortune of being alledged to have been accessory to the killing of one of m'martin's family about fourteen years ago, upon which alledgeance the m'martins are now so sanguine on revenging, that they are fully resolved for the deprivation of his life; to the preventing of which you are relyed on by us, as the only fit instrument and a most capable person. therefore your favour and protection is expected and intreated, during his good behaviour; and failing of which behaviour, you'll please to use him as a most insignificant person deserves. sir, he had, upon the alledgeance foresaid, been transported, at lochiel's desire, to france, to gratify the m'martins, and upon his return home, about five years ago, married: but now he is so much theatened by the m'martins, that he is not secure enough to stay where he is, being ardmurchan, which occasions this trouble to you. wishing prosperity and happiness to attend still yourself, worthy lady, and good family, we are, in the most affectionate manner, dear sir, your most obliged, affectionate, and most humble servants, dugall cameron, of strone. dugall cameron, of ban. dugall cameron, of inveriskvouilline. dugall cameron, of invinvalie. strone, th march, . ewen cameron was protected, and his son has now a farm from the laird of col, in mull. the family of col was very loyal in the time of the great montrose, from whom i found two letters in his own hand-writing. the first is as follows. for my very loving friend the laird of coall. sir, i must heartily thank you for all your willingness and good affection to his majesty's service, and particularly the sending alongs of your son, to who i will heave ane particular respect, hopeing also that you will still continue ane goode instrument for the advanceing ther of the king's service, for which, and all your former loyal carriages, be confident you shall find the effects of his mas favour, as they can be witnessed you by your very faithful friende, montrose. strethearne, jan. the other is, for the laird of col. sir, having occasion to write to your fields, i cannot be forgetful of your willingness and good affection to his majesty's service. i acknowledge to you, and thank you heartily for it assuring, that in what lies in my power, you shall find the good. mean while, i shall expect that you will continue your loyal endeavours, in wishing those slack people that are about you, to appear more obedient than they do, and loyal in their prince's service; whereby i assure you, you shall find me ever your faithful friend, montrose. petty, april, . [footnote: it is observeable that men of the first rank spelt very ill in the last century. in the first of these letters i have preserved the original spelling.] i found some uncouth lines on the death of the present laird's father, intituled 'nature's elegy upon the death of donald maclean of col'. they are not worth insertion. i shall only give what is called his epitaph, which dr johnson said, 'was not so very bad'. nature's minion. virtue's wonder, art's corrective here lyes under. i asked, what 'art's corrective' meant. 'why, sir,' said he, 'that the laird was so exquisite, that he set art right, when she was wrong.' i found several letters to the late col, from my father's old companion at paris, sir hector m'lean, one of which was written at the time of settling the colony in georgia. it dissuades col from letting people go there, and assures him there will soon be an opportunity of employing them better at home. hence it appears that emigration from the highlands, though not in such numbers at a time as of late, has always been practised. dr johnson observed, that, 'the lairds, instead of improving their country, diminished their people'. there are several districts of sandy desart in col. there are forty-eight lochs of fresh water; but many of them are very small--meer pools. about one half of them, however, have trout and eel. there is a great number of horses in the island, mostly of a small size. being over-stocked, they sell some in tir-yi, and on the main land. their black cattle, which are chiefly rough-haired, are reckoned remarkably good. the climate being very mild in winter, they never put their beasts in any house. the lakes are never frozen so as to bear a man; and snow never lies above a few hours. they have a good many sheep, which they eat mostly themselves, and sell but a few. they have goats in several places. there are no foxes; no serpents, toads, or frogs, nor any venomous creature. they have otters and mice here; but had no rats till lately that an american vessel brought them. there is a rabbit-warren on the north-east of the island, belonging to the duke of argyle. young col intends to get some hares, of which there are none at present. there are no black-cock, muir-fowl, nor partridges; but there are snipe, wild-duck, wild-geese, and swans, in winter; wild-pidgeons, plover, and great number of starlings; of which i shot some, and found them pretty good eating. woodcocks come hither, though there is not a tree upon the island. there are no rivers in col; but only some brooks, in which there is a great variety of fish. in the whole isle there are but three hills, and none of them considerable, for a highland country. the people are very industrious. every man can tan. they get oak, and birch-bark, and lime, from the main land. some have pits; but they commonly use tubs. i saw brogues very well tanned; and every man can make them. they all make candles of the tallow of their beasts, both moulded and dipped; and they all make oil of the livers of fish. the little fish called cuddies produce a great deal. they sell some oil out of the island, and they use it much for light in their houses, in little iron lamps, most of which they have from england; but of late their own blacksmith makes them. he is a good workman; but he has no employment in shoeing horses, for they all go unshod here, except some of a better kind belonging to young col, which were now in mull. there are two carpenters in col; but most of the inhabitants can do something as boat-carpenters. they can all dye. heath is used for yellow; and for red, a moss which grows on stones. they make broad-cloth, and tartan, and linen, of their own wool and flax, sufficient for their own use; as also stockings. their bonnets come from the main land. hard-ware and several small articles are brought annually from greenock, and sold in the only shop in the island, which is kept near the house, or rather hut, used for publick worship, there being no church in the island. the inhabitants of col have increased considerably within these thirty years, as appears from the parish registers. there are but three considerable tacksmen on col's part of the island: the rest is let to small tenants, some of whom pay so low a rent as four, three, or even two guineas. the highest is seven pounds, paid by a farmer, whose son goes yearly on foot to aberdeen for education, and in summer returns, and acts as a school-master in col. dr johnson said, 'there is something noble in a young man's walking two hundred miles and back again, every year, for the sake of learning.' this day a number of people came to col, with complaints of each others' trespasses. corneck, to prevent their being troublesome, told them, that the lawyer from edinburgh was here, and if they did not agree, he would take them to task. they were alarmed at this; said, they had never been used to go to law, and hoped col would settle matters himself. in the evening corneck left us. saturday, th october as, in our present confinement, any thing that had even the name of curious was an object of attention, i proposed that col should show me the great stone, mentioned in a former page, as having been thrown by a giant to the top of a mountain. dr johnson, who did not like to be left alone, said he would accompany us as far as riding was practicable. we ascended a part of the hill on horseback, and col and i scrambled up the rest. a servant held our horses, and dr johnson placed himself on the ground, with his back against a large fragment of rock. the wind being high, he let down the cocks of his hat, and tied it with his handkerchief under his chin. while we were employed in examining the stone, which did not repay our trouble in getting to it, he amused himself with reading gataker on lots and on the christian watch, a very learned book, of the last age, which had been found in the garret of col's house, and which he said was a treasure here. when we descried him from above, he had a most eremitical appearance; and on our return told us, he had been so much engaged by gataker, that he had never missed us. his avidity for variety of books, while we were in col, was frequently expressed; and he often complained that so few were within his reach. upon which i observed to him, that it was strange he should complain of want of books, when he could at any time make such good ones. we next proceeded to the lead mine. in our way we came to a strand of some extent, where we were glad to take a gallop, in which my learned friend joined with great alacrity. dr johnson, mounted on a large bay mare without shoes, and followed by a foal, which had some difficulty in keeping up with him, was a singular spectacle. after examining the mine, we returned through a very uncouth district, full of sand hills; down which, though apparent precipices, our horses carried us with safety, the sand always gently sliding away from their feet. vestiges of houses were pointed out to us, which col, and two others who had joined us, asserted had been overwhelmed with sand blown over them. but, on going close to one of them, dr johnson shewed the absurdity of the notion, by remarking, that 'it was evidently only a house abandoned, the stones of which had been taken away for other purposes; for the large stones, which form the lower part of the walls, were still standing higher than the sand. if they were not blown over, it was clear nothing higher than they could be blown over.' this was quite convincing to me; but it made not the least impression on col and the others, who were not to be argued out of a highland tradition. we did not sit down to dinner till between six and seven. we lived plentifully here, and had a true welcome. in such a season, good firing was of no small importance. the peats were excellent, and burned cheerfully. those at dunvegan, which were damp, dr johnson called 'a sullen fuel'. here a scottish phrase was singularly applied to him. one of the company having remarked that he had gone out on a stormy evening, and brought in a supply of peats from the stack, old mr m'sweyn said, 'that was main honest!' blenheim being occasionally mentioned, he told me he had never seen it: he had not gone formerly; and he would not go now, just as a common spectator, for his money: he would not put it in the power of some man about the duke of marlborough to say, 'johnson was here; i knew him, but i took no notice of him.' he said, he should be very glad to see it, if properly invited, which in all probability would never be the case, as it was not worth his while to seek for it. i observed, that he might be easily introduced there by a common friend of ours, nearly related to the duke. he answered, with an uncommon attention to delicacy of feeling, 'i doubt whether our friend be on such a footing with the duke as to carry any body there; and i would not give him the uneasiness of seeing that i knew he was not, or even of being himself reminded of it.' sunday, th october there was this day the most terrible storm of wind and rain that i ever remember. it made such an awful impression on us all, as to produce, for some time, a kind of dismal quietness in the house. the day was passed without much conversation: only, upon my observing that there must be something bad in a man's mind, who does not like to give leases to his tenants, but wishes to keep them in a perpetual wretched dependence on his will, dr johnson said, 'you are right: it is a man's duty to extend comfort and security among as many people as he can. he should not wish to have his tenants mere ephemerae--mere beings of an hour.' boswell. 'but, sir, if they have leases, is there not some danger that they may grow insolent? i remember you yourself once told me, an english tenant was so independent, that,--if provoked, he would throw his rent at his landlord.' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, it is the landlord's own fault, if it is thrown at him. a man may always keep his tenants in dependence enough, though they have leases. he must be a good tenant indeed, who will not fall behind in his rent, if his landlord will let him; and if he does fall behind, his landlord has him at his mercy. indeed, the poor man is always much at the mercy of the rich; no matter whether landlord or tenant. if the tenant lets his landlord have a little rent before-hand, or has lent him money, then the landlord is in his power. there cannot be a greater man than a tenant who has lent money to his landlord; for he has under subjection the very man to whom he should be subjected.' monday, th october we had some days ago engaged the campbell-town vessel to carry us to mull, from the harbour where she lay. the morning was fine, and the wind fair and moderate; so we hoped at length to get away. mrs m'sweyn, who officiated as our landlady here, had never been on the main land. on hearing this, dr johnson said to me, before her, 'that is rather being behind-hand with life. i would at least go and see glenelg.' boswell. 'you yourself, sir, have never seen, till now, any thing but your native island.' johnson. 'but, sir, by seeing london, i have seen as much of life as the world can shew.' boswell. 'you have not seen pekin.' johnson. 'what is pekin? ten thousand londoners would drive all the people of pekin: they would drive them like deer.' we set out about eleven for the harbour; but, before we reached it, so violent a storm came on, that we were obliged again to take shelter in the house of captain m'lean, where we dined, and passed the night. tuesday, th october after breakfast, we made a second attempt to get to the harbour; but another storm soon convinced us that it would be in vain. captain m'lean's house being in some confusion, on account of mrs m'lean being expected to lie-in, we resolved to go to mr m'sweyn's, where we arrived very wet, fatigued, and hungry. in this situation, we were somewhat disconcerted by being told that we should have no dinner till late in the evening; but should have tea in the mean time. dr johnson opposed this arrangement; but they persisted, and he took the tea very readily. he said to me afterwards, 'you must consider, sir, a dinner here is a matter of great consequence. it is a thing to be first planned, and then executed. i suppose the mutton was brought some miles off, from some place where they knew there was a sheep killed.' talking of the good people with whom we were, he said, 'life has not got at all forward by a generation in m'sweyn's family; for the son is exactly formed upon the father. what the father says, the son says; and what the father looks, the son looks.' there being little conversation to-night, i must endeavour to recollect what i may have omitted on former occasions. when i boasted, at rasay, of my independency of spirit, and that i could not be bribed, he said, 'yes, you may be bribed by flattery.' at the reverend mr m'lean's, dr johnson asked him, if the people of col had any superstitions. he said, 'no.' the cutting peats at the increase of the moon was mentioned as one; but he would not allow it, saying, it was not a superstition, but a whim. dr johnson would not admit the distinction. there were many superstitions, he maintained, not connected with religion; and this was one of them. on monday we had a dispute at the captain's, whether sand-hills could be fixed down by art. dr johnson said, 'how the devil can you do it?' but instantly corrected himself, 'how can you do it?' i never before heard him use a phrase of that nature. he has particularities which it is impossible to explain. he never wears a night-cap, as i have already mentioned; but he puts a handkerchief on his head in the night. the day that we left talisker, he bade us ride on. he then turned the head of his horse back towards talisker, stopped for some time; then wheeled round to the same direction with ours, and then came briskly after us. he sets open a window in the coldest day or night, and stands before it. it may do with his constitution; but most people, amongst whom i am one, would say, with the frogs in the fable, 'this may be sport to you; but it is death to us.' it is in vain to try to find a meaning in every one of his particularities, which, i suppose, are mere habits, contracted by chance; of which every man has some that are more or less remarkable. his speaking to himself, or rather repeating, is a common habit with studious men accustomed to deep thinking; and, in consequence of their being thus rapt, they will even laugh by themselves, if the subject which they are musing on is a merry one. dr johnson is often uttering pious ejaculations, when he appears to be talking to himself; for sometimes his voice grows stronger, and parts of the lord's prayer are heard. i have sat beside him with more than ordinary reverence on such occasions. [footnote: it is remarkable, that dr johnson should have read this account of some of his own peculiar habits, without saying any thing on the subject which i hoped he would have done.] in our tour, i observed that he was disgusted whenever he met with coarse manners. he said to me, 'i know not how it is, but i cannot bear low life: and i find others, who have as good a right as i to be fastidious, bear it better, by having mixed more with different sorts of men. you would think that i have mixed pretty well too.' he read this day a good deal of my journal, written in a small book with which he had supplied me, and was pleased, for he said, 'i wish thy books were twice as big.' he helped me to fill up blanks which i had left in first writing it, when i was not quite sure of what he had said, and he corrected any mistakes that i had made. 'they call me a scholar,' said he, 'and yet how very little literature is there in my conversation.' boswell. 'that, sir, must be according to your company. you would not give literature to those who cannot taste it. stay till we meet lord elibank.' we had at last a good dinner, or rather supper, and were very well satisfied with our entertainment. wednesday, th october col called me up, with intelligence that it was a good day for a passage to mull; and just as we rose, a sailor from the vessel arrived for us. we got all ready with dispatch. dr johnson was displeased at my bustling, and walking quickly up and down. he said, 'it does not hasten us a bit. it is getting on horseback in a ship. all boys do it; and you are longer a boy than others.' he himself has no alertness, or whatever it may be called; so he may dislike it, as oderunt hilarem tristes. before we reached the harbour, the wind grew high again. however, the small boat was waiting, and took us on board. we remained for some time in uncertainty what to do: at last it was determined, that, as a good part of the day was over, and it was dangerous to be at sea at night, in such a vessel, and such weather, we should not sail till the morning tide, when the wind would probably be more gentle. we resolved not to go ashore again, but lie here in readiness. dr johnson and i had each a bed in the cabbin. col sat at the fire in the forecastle, with the captain, and joseph, and the rest. i eat some dry oatmeal, of which i found a barrel in the cabbin. i had not done this since i was a boy. dr johnson owned that he too was fond of it when a boy; a circumstance which i was highly pleased to hear from him, as it gave me an opportunity of observing that, notwithstanding his joke on the article of oats, he was himself a proof that this kind of food was not peculiar to the people of scotland. thursday, th october when dr johnson awaked this morning, he called, 'lanky!' having, i suppose, been thinking of langton; but corrected himself instantly, and cried, 'bozzy!' he has a way of contracting the names of his friends. goldsmith feels himself so important now, as to be displeased at it. i remember one day, when tom davies was telling that dr johnson said, 'we are all in labour for a name to goldy's play,' goldsmith cried, 'i have often desired him not to call me goldy.' between six and seven we hauled our anchor, and set sail with a fair breeze; and, after a pleasant voyage, we got safely and agreeably into the harbour of tobermorie, before the wind rose, which it always has done, for some days, about noon. tobermorie is an excellent harbour. an island lies before it, and it is surrounded by a hilly theatre. the island is too low, otherwise this would be quite a secure port; but, the island not being a sufficient protection, some storms blow very hard here. not long ago, fifteen vessels were blown from their moorings. there are sometimes sixty or seventy sail here: to-day there were twelve or fourteen vessels. to see such a fleet was the next thing to seeing a town. the vessels were from different places; clyde, campbelltown, newcastle, etc. one was returning to lancaster from hamburgh. after having been shut up so long in col, the sight of such an assemblage of moving habitations, containing such a variety of people, engaged in different pursuits, gave me much gaiety of spirit. when we had landed, dr johnson said, 'boswell is now all alive. he is like antaeus; he gets new vigour whenever he touches the ground.' i went to the top of a hill fronting the harbour, from whence i had a good view of it. we had here a tolerable inn. dr johnson had owned to me this morning, that he was out of humour. indeed, he shewed it a good deal in the ship; for when i was expressing my joy on the prospect of our landing in mull, he said, he had no joy, when he recollected that it would be five days before he should get to the main land. i was afraid he would now take a sudden resolution to give up seeing icolmkill. a dish of tea, and some good bread and butter, did him service, and his bad humour went off. i told him, that i was diverted to hear all the people whom we had visited in our tour, say, 'honest man! he's pleased with every thing; he's always content!' 'little do they know,' said i. he laughed, and said, 'you rogue!' we sent to hire horses to carry us across the island of mull to the shore opposite to inchkenneth, the residence of sir allan m'lean, uncle to young col, and chief of the m'leans, to whose house we intended to go the next day. our friend col went to visit his aunt, the wife of dr alexander m'lean, a physician, who lives about a mile from tobermorie. dr johnson and i sat by ourselves at the inn, and talked a good deal. i told him, that i had found, in leandro alberti's description of italy, much of what addison has given us in his remarks. he said, "the collection of passages from the classicks has been made by another italian: it is, however, impossible to detect a man as a plagiary in such a case, because all who set about making such a collection must find the same passages; but, if you find the same applications in another book, then addison's learning in his remarks tumbles down. it is a tedious book; and, if it were not attached to addison's previous reputation, one would not think much of it. had he written nothing else, his name would not have lived. addison does not seem to have gone deep in italian literature: he shews nothing of it in his subsequent writings. he shews a great deal of french learning. there is, perhaps, more knowledge circulated in the french language than in any other. there is more original knowledge in english.' 'but the french,' said i, 'have the art of accommodating literature.' johnson. 'yes, sir; we have no such book as moreri's dictionary.'" boswell. "their ana are good.' johnson. 'a few of them are good; but we have one book of that kind better than any of them; selden's table-talk. as to original literature, the french have a couple of tragick poets who go round the world, racine and corneille, and one comick poet, moliere.'--boswell. 'they have fenelon.' johnson. 'why, sir, telemachus is pretty well.' boswell. 'and voltaire, sir.' johnson. 'he has not stood his trial yet and what makes voltaire chiefly circulate is collection; such as his universal history.' boswell. 'what do you say to the bishop of meaux?' johnson. 'sir, nobody reads him.' [footnote: i take leave to enter my strongest protest against this judgement bossuet i hold to be one of the first luminaries of religion and literature. if there are who do not read him, it is full time they should begin.] he would not allow massillon and bourdaloue to go round the world. in general, however, he gave the french much praise for their industry. he asked me whether he had mentioned, in any of the papers of the rambler, the description in virgil of the entrance into hell, with an application to the press; 'for,' said he, 'i do not much remember them'. i told him, 'no.' upon which he repeated it: vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus orci, luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus, et metus, et malesuada fames, et turpis egestas, terribiles visu formae; lethumque, laborque. [footnote: just in the gate, and in the jaws of hell, revengeful cares, and sullen sorrows dwell; and pale diseases, and repining age; want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage; here toils and death, and death's half-brother, sleep, forms terrible to view, their sentry keep. dryden.] 'now,' said he, 'almost all these apply exactly to an authour; all these are the concomitants of a printing-house.' i proposed to him to dictate an essay on it, and offered to write it. he said, he would not do it then, but perhaps would write one at some future period. the sunday evening that we sat by ourselves at aberdeen, i asked him several particulars of his early years, which he readily told me; and i wrote them down before him. this day i proceeded in my inquiries, also writing them in his presence. i have them on detached sheets. i shall collect authentick materials for the life of samuel johnson, ll. d.; and, if i survive him, i shall be one who will most faithfully do honour to his memory. i have now a vast treasure of his conversation, at different times, since the year , when i first obtained his acquaintance; and, by assiduous inquiry, i can make up for not knowing him sooner. [footnote: it is no small satisfaction to me to reflect, that dr johnson read this, and, after being apprised of my intention, communicated to me, at subsequent periods, many particulars of his life, which probably could not otherwise have been preserved.] a newcastle ship-master, who happened to be in the house, intruded himself upon us. he was much in liquor, and talked nonsense about his being a man for 'wilkes and liberty', and against the ministry. dr johnson was angry, that 'a fellow should come into our company, who was fit for no company'. he left us soon. col returned from his aunt, and told us, she insisted that we should come to her house that night. he introduced to us mr campbell, the duke of argyle's factor in tyr-yi. he was a genteel, agreeable man. he was going to inveraray, and promised to put letters into the post-office for us. i now found that dr johnson's desire to get on the main land, arose from his anxiety to have an opportunity of conveying letters to his friends. after dinner, we proceeded to dr m'lean's, which was about a mile from our inn. he was not at home, but we were received by his lady and daughter, who entertained us so well, that dr johnson seemed quite happy. when we had supped, he asked me to give him some paper to write letters. i begged he would write short ones, and not expatiate, as we ought to set off early. he was irritated by this, and said, 'what must be done, must be done: the thing is past a joke.' 'nay, sir,' said i, 'write as much as you please; but do not blame me, if we are kept six days before we get to the main land. you were very impatient in the morning: but no sooner do you find yourself in good quarters, than you forget that you are to move.' i got him paper enough, and we parted in good humour. let me now recollect whatever particulars i have omitted. in the morning i said to him, before we landed at tobermorie, 'we shall see dr m'lean, who has written the history of the m'leans.' johnson. 'i have no great patience to stay to hear the history of the m'leans. i would rather hear the history of the thrales.' when on mull, i said, 'well, sir, this is the fourth of the hebrides that we have been upon.' johnson. 'nay, we cannot boast of the number we have seen. we thought we should see many more. we thought of sailing about easily from island to island; and so we should, had we come at a better season; but we, being wise men, thought it would be summer all the year where we were. however, sir, we have seen enough to give us a pretty good notion of the system in insular life.' let me not forget, that he sometimes amused himself with very slight reading; from which, however, his conversation shewed that he contrived to extract some benefit. at captain m'lean's he read a good deal in the charmer, a collection of songs. friday, th october we this morning found that we could not proceed, there being a violent storm of wind and rain, and the rivers being impassable. when i expressed my discontent at our confinement, dr johnson said, 'now that i have had an opportunity of writing to the main land, i am in no such haste.' i was amused with his being so easily satisfied; for the truth was, that the gentleman who was to convey our letters, as i was now informed, was not to set out for inveraray for some time; so that it was probable we should be there as soon as he: however, i did not undeceive my friend, but suffered him to enjoy his fancy. dr johnson asked, in the evening, to see dr m'lean's books. he took down willis de anima brutorum, and pored over it a good deal. miss m'lean produced some erse poems by john m'lean, who was a famous bard in mull, and had died only a few years ago. he could neither read nor write. she read and translated two of them; one, a kind of elegy on sir john m'lean's being obliged to fly his country in ; another, a dialogue between two roman catholick young ladies, sisters, whether it was better to be a nun or to marry. i could not perceive much poetical imagery in the translation. yet all of our company who understood erse, seemed charmed with the original. there may, perhaps, be some choice of expression, and some excellence of arrangement, that cannot be shewn in translation. after we had exhausted the erse poems, of which dr johnson said nothing, miss m'lean gave us several tunes on a spinnet, which, though made so long ago, as in , was still very well toned. she sung along with it. dr johnson seemed pleased with the musick, though he owns he neither likes it, nor has hardly any perception of it. at mr m'pherson's, in slate, he told us, that 'he knew a drum from a trumpet, and a bagpipe from a guitar, which was about the extent of his knowledge of musick'. to-night he said, that, 'if he had learnt musick, he should have been afraid he would have done nothing else but play. it was a method of employing the mind, without the labour of thinking at all, and with some applause from a man's self.' we had the musick of the bagpipe every day, at armidale, dunvegan, and col. dr johnson appeared fond of it, and used often to stand for some time with his ear close to the great drone. the penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, formerly alluded to, afforded us a topick of conversation to-night. dr johnson said, i ought to write down a collection of the instances of his narrowness, as they almost exceeded belief. col told us, that o'kane, the famous irish harper, was once at that gentleman's house. he could not find in his heart to give him any money, but gave him a key for a harp, which was finely ornamented with gold and silver, and with a precious stone, and was worth eighty or a hundred guineas. he did not know the value of it; and when he came to know it, he would fain have had it back; but o'kane took care that he should not. johnson. 'they exaggerate the value; every body is so desirous that he should be fleeced. i am very willing it should be worth eighty or a hundred guineas; but i do not believe it.' boswell. 'i do not think o'kane was obliged to give it back.' johnson. 'no, sir. if a man with his eyes open, and without any means used to deceive him, gives me a thing, i am not to let him have it again when he grows wiser. i like to see how avarice defeats itself; how, when avoiding to part with money, the miser gives something more valuable.' col said, the gentleman's relations were angry at his giving away the harp-key, for it had been long in the family. johnson. 'sir, he values a new guinea more than an old friend.' col also told us, that the same person having come up with a serjeant and twenty men, working on the high road, he entered into discourse with the serjeant, and then gave him sixpence for the men to drink. the serjeant asked, 'who is this fellow?' upon being informed, he said, 'if i had known who he was, i should have thrown it in his face.' johnson. 'there is much want of sense in all this. he had no business to speak with the serjeant. he might have been in haste, and trotted on. he had not learnt to be a miser: i believe we must take him apprentice.' boswell. 'he would grudge giving half a guinea to be taught' johnson. 'nay, sir, you must teach him gratis. you must give him an opportunity to practice your precepts.' let me now go back, and glean johnsoniana. the saturday before we sailed from slate, i sat awhile in the afternoon with dr johnson in his room, in a quiet serious frame. i observed, that hardly any man was accurately prepared for dying; but almost every one left something undone, something in confusion; that my father, indeed, told me he knew one man (carlisle of limekilns), after whose death all his papers were found in exact order; and nothing was omitted in his will. johnson. 'sir, i had an uncle who died so; but such attention requires great leisure, and great firmness of mind. if one was to think constantly of death, the business of life would stand still. i am no friend to making religion appear too hard. many good people have done harm, by giving severe notions of it. in the same way, as to learning: i never frighten young people with difficulties; on the contrary, i tell them that they may very easily get as much as will do very well. i do not indeed tell them that they will be bentleys.' the night we rode to col's house, i said, 'lord elibank is probably wondering what is become of us.' johnson. 'no, no; he is not thinking of us.' boswell. 'but recollect the warmth with which he wrote. are we not to believe a man, when he says he has a great desire to see another? don't you believe that i was very impatient for your coming to scotland?' johnson. 'yes, sir; i believe you were; and i was impatient to come to you. a young man feels so, but seldom an old man.' i however convinced him that lord elibank, who has much of the spirit of a young man, might feel so. he asked me if our jaunt had answered expectation. i said it had much exceeded it. i expected much difficulty with him, and had not found it 'and,' he added, 'wherever we have come, we have been received like princes in their progress.' he said, he would not wish not to be disgusted in the highlands; for that would be to lose the power of distinguishing, and a man might then lie down in the middle of them. he wished only to conceal his disgust. at captain m'lean's, i mentioned pope's friend, spence. johnson. 'he was a weak conceited man.' [footnote: mr langton thinks this must have been the hasty expression of a splenetick moment as he has heard dr johnson speak of mr spence's judgement in criticism with so high a degree of respect, as to shew that this was not his settled opinion of him. let me add that in the preface to the preceptor, he recommends spence's essay on pope's odyssey, and that his admirable lives of the english poets are much enriched by spence's anecdotes of pope. boswell. 'a good scholar, sir?' johnson. 'why, no, sir.' boswell. 'he was a pretty scholar.' johnson. 'you have about reached him.'] last night at the inn, when the factor in tyr-yi spoke of his having heard that a roof was put on some part of the buildings at icolmkill, i unluckily said, 'it will be fortunate if we find a cathedral with a roof on it.' i said this from a foolish anxiety to engage dr johnson's curiosity more. he took me short at once. 'what, sir? how can you talk so? if we shall find a cathedral roofed! as if we were going to a terra incognita; when every thing that is at icolmkill is so well known. you are like some new england men who came to the mouth of the thames. "come," said they, "let us go up and see what sort of inhabitants there are here." they talked, sir, as if they had been to go up the susquehannah, or any other american river.' saturday, th october this day there was a new moon, and the weather changed for the better. dr johnson said of miss m'lean, 'she is the most accomplished lady that i have found in the highlands. she knows french, musick, and drawing, sews neatly, makes shell-work, and can milk cows; in short, she can do every thing. she talks sensibly, and is the first person whom i have found, that can translate erse poetry literally.' we set out, mounted on little mull horses. mull corresponded exactly with the idea which i had always had of it; a hilly country, diversified with heath and grass, and many rivulets. dr johnson was not in very good humour. he said, it was a dreary country, much worse than sky. i differed from him, 'o, sir,' said he, 'a most dolorous country!' we had a very hard journey to-day. i had no bridle for my sheltie, but only a halter; and joseph rode without a saddle. at one place, a loch having swelled over the road, we were obliged to plunge through pretty deep water. dr johnson observed, how helpless a man would be, were he travelling here alone, and should meet with any accident; and said, 'he longed to get to a country of saddles and bridles'. he was more out of humour to-day, than he has been in the course of our tour, being fretted to find that his little horse could scarcely support his weight; and having suffered a loss, which, though small in itself, was of some consequence to him, while travelling the rugged steeps of mull, where he was at times obliged to walk. the loss that i allude to was that of the large oak-stick, which, as i formerly mentioned, he had brought with him from london. it was of great use to him in our wild peregrination; for, ever since his last illness in , he has had a weakness in his knees, and has not been able to walk easily. it had too the properties of a measure; for one nail was driven into it at the length of a foot; another at that of a yard. in return for the services it had done him, he said, this morning he would make a present of it to some museum; but he little thought he was so soon to lose it. as he preferred riding with a switch, it was intrusted to a fellow to be delivered to our baggage-man, who followed us at some distance; but we never saw it more. i could not persuade him out of a suspicion that it had been stolen. 'no, no, my friend,' said he, 'it is not to be expected that any man in mull, who has got it, will part with it. consider, sir, the value of such a piece of timber here!' as we travelled this forenoon, we met dr m'lean, who expressed much regret at his having been so unfortunate as to be absent while we were at his house. we were in hopes to get to sir allan maclean's at inchkenneth, to-night; but the eight miles, of which our road was said to consist, were so very long, that we did not reach the opposite coast of mull till seven at night, though we had set out about eleven in the forenoon; and when we did arrive there, we found the wind strong against us. col determined that we should pass the night at m'quarrie's, in the island of ulva, which lies between mull and inchkenneth; and a servant was sent forward to the ferry, to secure the boat for us: but the boat was gone to the ulva side, and the wind was so high that the people could not hear him call; and the night so dark that they could not see a signal. we should have been in a very bad situation, had there not fortunately been lying in the little sound of ulva an irish vessel, the bonnetta, of londonderry, captain m'lure, master. he himself was at m'quarrie's; but his men obligingly came with their long-boat, and ferried us over. m'quarrie's house was mean; but we were agreeably surprised with the appearance of the master, whom we found to be intelligent, polite, and much a man of the world. though his clan is not numerous, he is a very ancient chief, and has a burial place at icolmkill. he told us, his family had possessed ulva for nine hundred years; but i was distressed to hear that it was soon to be sold for the payment of his debts. captain m'lure, whom we found here, was of scotch extraction, and properly a m'leod, being descended of some of the m'leods who went with sir normand of bernera to the battle of worcester, and after the defeat of the royalists, fled to ireland, and, to conceal themselves, took a different name. he told me, there was a great number of them about londonderry; some of good property. i said, they should now resume their real name. the laird of m'leod should go over, and assemble them, and make them all drink the large horn full, and from that time they should be m'leods. the captain informed us, he had named his ship the bonnetta, out of gratitude to providence; for once, when he was sailing to america with a good number of passengers, the ship in which he then sailed was becalmed for five weeks, and during all that time, numbers of the fish bonnetta swam close to her, and were caught for food; he resolved therefore, that the ship he should next get, should be called the bonnetta. m'quarrie told us a strong instance of the second sight. he had gone to edinburgh, and taken a man-servant along with him. an old woman, who was in the house, said one day, 'm'quarrie will be at home to- morrow, and will bring two gentlemen with him'; and she said, she saw his servant return in red and green. he did come home next day. he had two gentlemen with him; and his servant had a new red and green livery, which m'quarrie had bought for him at edinburgh, upon a sudden thought, not having the least intention when he left home to put his servant in livery, so that the old woman could not have heard any previous mention of it. this, he assured us, was a true story. m'quarrie insisted that the mercheta mulierum, mentioned in our old charters, did really mean the privilege which a lord of a manor, or a baron, had, to have the first night of all his vassals' wives. dr johnson said, the belief of such a custom having existed was also held in england, where there is a tenure called borough-english, by which the eldest child does not inherit, from a doubt of his being the son of the tenant. [footnote: sir william blackstone says in his commentaries, that 'he cannot find that ever this custom prevailed in england'; and therefore he is of opinion that it could not have given rise to borough-english.] m'quarrie told us, that still, on the marriage of each of his tenants, a sheep is due to him; for which the composition is fixed at five shillings. i suppose, ulva is the only place where this custom remains. talking of the sale of an estate of an ancient family, which was said to have been purchased much under its value by the confidential lawyer of that family, and it being mentioned that the sale would probably be set aside by a suit in equity, dr johnson said, 'i am very willing that this sale should be set aside, but i doubt much whether the suit will be successful; for the argument for avoiding the sale is founded on vague and indeterminate principles, as that the price was too low, and that there was a great degree of confidence placed by the seller in the person who became the purchaser. now, how low should a price be? or what degree of confidence should there be to make a bargain be set aside? a bargain, which is a wager of skill between man and man. if, indeed, any fraud can be proved, that will do.' when dr johnson and i were by ourselves at night, i observed of our host, 'aspectum generosum habet.' 'et generosum animum,' he added. for fear of being overheard in the small highland houses, i often talked to him in such latin as i could speak, and with as much of the english accent as i could assume, so as not to be understood, in case our conversation should be too loud for the space. we had each an elegant bed in the same room; and here it was that a circumstance occurred, as to which he has been strangely misunderstood. from his description of his chamber, it has erroneously been supposed, that his bed being too short for him, his feet, during the night, were in the mire; whereas he has only said, that when he undressed, he felt his feet in the mire: that is, the clay-floor of the room, on which he stood before he went into bed, was wet, in consequence of the windows being broken, which let in the rain. sunday, th october being informed that there was nothing worthy of observation in ulva, we took boat, and proceeded to inchkenneth, where we were introduced by our friend col to sir allan m'lean, the chief of his clan, and to two young ladies, his daughters. inchkenneth is a pretty little island, a mile long, and about half a mile broad, all good land. as we walked up from the shore, dr johnson's heart was cheered by the sight of a road marked with cart-wheels, as on the main land; a thing which we had not seen for a long time. it gave us a pleasure similar to that which a traveller feels, when, whilst wandering on what he fears is a desert island, he perceives the print of human feet. military men acquire excellent habits of having all conveniencies about them. sir allan m'lean, who had been long in the army, and had now a lease of the island, had formed a commodious habitation, though it consisted but of a few small buildings, only one story high. he had, in his little apartments, more things than i could enumerate in a page or two. among other agreeable circumstances, it was not the least, to find here a parcel of the caledonian mercury, published since we left edinburgh; which i read with that pleasure which every man feels who has been for some time secluded from the animated scenes of the busy world. dr johnson found books here. he bade me buy bishop gastrell's christian institutes, which was lying in the room. he said, 'i do not like to read any thing on a sunday, but what is theological; not that i would scrupulously refuse to look at any thing which a friend should shew me in a newspaper; but in general, i would read only what is theological. i read just now some of drummond's travels, before i perceived what books were here. i then took up derham's physico-theology. every particular concerning this island having been so well described by dr johnson, it would be superfluous in me to present the publick with the observations that i made upon it, in my journal. i was quite easy with sir allan almost instantaneously. he knew the great intimacy that had been between my father and his predecessor, sir hector, and was himself of a very frank disposition. after dinner, sir allan said he had got dr campbell about a hundred subscribers to his britannia elucidata (a work since published under the title of a political survey of great britain), of whom he believed twenty were dead, the publication having been so long delayed. johnson. 'sir, i imagine the delay of publication is owing to this; that, after publication, there will be no more subscribers, and few will send the additional guinea to get their books: in which they will be wrong; for there will be a great deal of instruction in the work. i think highly of campbell. in the first place, he has very good parts. in the second place, he has very extensive reading; not, perhaps, what is properly called learning, but history, politicks, and, in short, that popular knowledge which makes a man very useful. in the third place, he has learned much by what is called the vox viva. he talks with a great many people.' speaking of this gentleman, at rasay, he told us, that he one day called on him, and they talked of tull's husbandry. dr campbell said something. dr johnson began to dispute it. 'come,' said dr campbell, 'we do not want to get the better of one another: we want to encrease each other's ideas.' dr johnson took it in good part, and the conversation then went on coolly and instructively. his candour in relating this anecdote does him much credit, and his conduct on that occasion proves how easily he could be persuaded to talk from a better motive than 'for victory'. dr johnson here shewed so much of the spirit of a highlander, that he won sir allan's heart: indeed, he has shewn it during the whole of our tour. one night, in col, he strutted about the room with a broad-sword and target, and made a formidable appearance; and, another night, i took the liberty to put a large blue bonnet on his head. his age, his size, and his bushy grey wig, with this covering on it, presented the image of a venerable senachi: and, however unfavourable to the lowland scots, he seemed much pleased to assume the appearance of an ancient caledonian. we only regretted that he could not be prevailed with to partake of the social glass. one of his arguments against drinking, appears to me not convincing. he urged, that, 'in proportion as drinking makes a man different from what he is before he has drunk, it is bad; because it has so far affected his reason'. but may it not be answered, that a man may be altered by it for the better; that his spirits may be exhilarated, without his reason being affected? on the general subject of drinking, however, i do not mean positively to take the other side. i am dubius, non improbus. in the evening, sir allan informed us that it was the custom of his house to have prayers every sunday; and miss m'lean read the evening service, in which we all joined. i then read ogden's second and ninth sermons on prayer, which, with their other distinguished excellence, have the merit of being short. dr johnson said, that it was the most agreeable sunday he had ever passed; and it made such an impression on his mind, that he afterwards wrote the following latin verses upon inchkenneth: insula sancti kennethi parva quidem regio, sed relligione priorum nota, caledonias panditur inter aquas; voce ubi cennethus populos domuisse feroces dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos. huc ego delatus placido per coerula cursu scire locum volui quid daret itte novi. illic leniades humili regnabat in aula, leniades magnis nobilitatus avis: una duas habuit casa cum genitore puellas, quas amor undarum fingeret esse deas: non tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris, accola danubii qualia saevus habet; mollia non deerant vacuae solatia vitae, sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram. luxerat illa dies, legis gens docta supernae spes hominum ac curas cum procul esse jubet, ponti inter strepitus sacri non munera cultus cessarunt; pietas hic quoque cura fuit: quid quod sacrifici versavit femina libros, legitimas faciunt pectora pura preces. quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est; hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor. monday, th october we agreed to pass this day with sir allan, and he engaged to have every thing in order for our voyage to-morrow. being now soon to be separated from our amiable friend young col, his merits were all remembered. at ulva he had appeared in a new character, having given us a good prescription for a cold. on my mentioning him with warmth, dr johnson said, 'col does every thing for us: we will erect a statue to col.' 'yes,' said i, 'and we will have him with his various attributes and characters, like mercury, or any other of the heathen gods. we will have him as a pilot; we will have him as a fisherman, as a hunter, as a husbandman, as a physician.' i this morning took a spade, and dug a little grave in the floor of a ruined chapel, near sir allan m'lean's house, in which i buried some human bones i found there. dr johnson praised me for what i had done, though he owned, he could not have done it. he shewed in the chapel at rasay his horrour at dead men's bones. he shewed it again at col's house. in the charter-room there was a remarkable large shin-bone; which was said to have been a bone of john garve, one of the lairds. dr johnson would not look at it; but started away. at breakfast, i asked, 'what is the reason that we are angry at a trader's having opulence?' johnson. 'why, sir, the reason is (though i don't undertake to prove that there is a reason), we see no qualities in trade that should entitle a man to superiority. we are not angry at a soldier's getting riches, because we see that he possesses qualities which we have not. if a man returns from a battle, having lost one hand, and with the other full of gold, we feel that he deserves the gold; but we cannot think that a fellow, by sitting all day at a desk, is entitled to get above us.' boswell. 'but, sir, may we not suppose a merchant to be a man of an enlarged mind, such as addison in the spectator describes sir andrew freeport to have been?' johnson. 'why, sir, we may suppose any fictitious character. we may suppose a philosophical day-labourer, who is happy in reflecting that, by his labour, he contributes to the fertility of the earth, and to the support of his fellow-creatures; but we find no such philosophical day-labourer. a merchant may, perhaps, be a man of an enlarged mind; but there is nothing in trade connected with an enlarged mind.' i mentioned that i heard dr solander say he was a swedish laplander. johnson. 'sir, i don't believe he is a laplander. the laplanders are not much above four feet high. he is as tall as you; and he has not the copper colour of a laplander.' boswell. 'but what motive could he have to make himself a laplander?' johnson. 'why, sir, he must either mean the word laplander in a very extensive sense, or may mean a voluntary degradation of himself. "for all my being the great man that you see me now, i was originally a barbarian"; as if burke should say, "i came over a wild irishman," which he might say in his present state of exaltation.' having expressed a desire to have an island like inchkenneth, dr johnson set himself to think what would be necessary for a man in such a situation. 'sir, i should build me a fortification, if i came to live here; for, if you have it not, what should hinder a parcel of ruffians to land in the night, and carry off every thing you have in the house, which, in a remote country, would be more valuable than cows and sheep? add to all this the danger of having your throat cut.' boswell. 'i would have a large dog.' johnson. 'so you may, sir; but a large dog is of no use but to alarm. he, however, i apprehend, thinks too lightly of the power of that animal. i have heard him say, that he is afraid of no dog. 'he would take him up by the hinder legs, which would render him quite helpless, and then knock his head against a stone, and beat out his brains.' topham beauclerk told me, that at his house in the country, two large ferocious dogs were fighting. dr johnson looked steadily at them for a little while; and then, as one would separate two little boys, who are foolishly hurting each other, he ran up to them, and cuffed their heads till he drove them asunder. but few men have his intrepidity, herculean strength, or presence of mind. most thieves or robbers would be afraid to encounter a mastiff. i observed, that, when young col talked of the lands belonging to his family, he always said, 'my lands'. for this he had a plausible pretence; for he told me, there has been a custom in this family, that the laird resigns the estate to the eldest son when he comes of age, reserving to himself only a certain life-rent. he said, it was a voluntary custom; but i think i found an instance in the charter-room, that there was such an obligation in a contract of marriage. if the custom was voluntary, it was only curious; but if founded on obligation, it might be dangerous; for i have been told, that in otaheite, whenever a child is born (a son, i think), the father loses his right to the estate and honours, and that this unnatural, or rather absurd custom, occasions the murder of many children. young col told us he could run down a greyhound; 'for,' said he, 'the dog runs himself out of breath, by going too quick, and then i get up with him.' i accounted for his advantage over the dog, by remarking that col had the faculty of reason, and knew how to moderate his pace, which the dog had not sense enough to do. dr johnson said, 'he is a noble animal. he is as complete an islander as the mind can figure. he is a farmer, a sailor, a hunter, a fisher: he will run you down a dog: if any man has a tail it is col. he is hospitable; and he has an intrepidity of talk, whether he understands the subject or not. i regret that he is not more intellectual.' dr johnson observed, that there was nothing of which he would not undertake to persuade a frenchman in a foreign country. i'll carry a frenchman to st paul's church-yard, and i'll tell him, "by our law you may walk half round the church; but, if you walk round the whole, you will be punished capitally", and he will believe me at once. now, no englishman would readily swallow such a thing: he would go and inquire of somebody else.' the frenchman's credulity, i observed, must be owing to his being accustomed to implicit submission; whereas every englishman reasons upon the laws of his country, and instructs his representatives, who compose the legislature. this day was passed in looking at a small island adjoining inchkenneth, which afforded nothing worthy of observation; and in such social and gay entertainments as our little society could furnish. tuesday, th october after breakfast we took leave of the young ladies, and of our excellent companion col, to whom we had been so much obliged. he had now put us under the care of his chief; and was to hasten back to sky. we parted from him with very strong feelings of kindness and gratitude; and we hoped to have had some future opportunity of proving to him the sincerity of what we felt; but in the following year he was unfortunately lost in the sound between ulva and mull; and this imperfect memorial, joined to the high honour of being tenderly and respectfully mentioned by dr johnson, is the only return which the uncertainty of human events has permitted us to make to this deserving young man. sir allan, who obligingly undertook to accompany us to icolmkill had a strong good boat, with four stout rowers. we coasted along mull till we reached gribon, where is what is called mackinnon's cave, compared with which that at ulinish is inconsiderable. it is in a rock of a great height, close to the sea. upon the left of its entrance there is a cascade, almost perpendicular from the top to the bottom of the rock. there is a tradition that it was conducted thither artificially, to supply the inhabitants of the cave with water. dr johnson gave no credit to this tradition. as, on the one hand, his faith in the christian religion is firmly founded upon good grounds; so, on the other, he is incredulous when there is no sufficient reason for belief; being in this respect just the reverse of modern infidels, who, however nice and scrupulous in weighing the evidences of religion, are yet often so ready to believe the most absurd and improbable tales of another nature, that lord hailes well observed, a good essay might be written sur la credulite des incredules. the height of this cave i cannot tell with any tolerable exactness: but it seemed to be very lofty, and to be a pretty regular arch. we penetrated, by candlelight, a great way; by our measurement, no less than four hundred and eighty-five feet. tradition says, that a piper and twelve men once advanced into this cave, nobody can tell how far; and never returned. at the distance to which we proceeded the air was quite pure; for the candle burned freely, without the least appearance of the flame growing globular; but as we had only one, we thought it dangerous to venture farther, lest, should it have been extinguished, we should have had no means of ascertaining whether we could remain without danger. dr johnson said, this was the greatest natural curiosity he had ever seen. we saw the island of staffa, at no very great distance, but could not land upon it, the surge was so high on its rocky coast. sir allan, anxious for the honour of mull, was still talking of its woods, and pointing them out to dr johnson, as appearing at a distance on the skirts of that island, as we sailed along. johnson. 'sir, i saw at tobermorie. what they called a wood, which i unluckily took for heath. if you shew me what i shall take for furze, it will be something.' in the afternoon we went ashore on the coast of mull, and partook of a cold repast, which we carried with us. we hoped to have procured some rum or brandy for our boatmen and servants, from a publick-house near where we landed; but unfortunately a funeral a few days before had exhausted all their store. mr campbell however, one of the duke of argyle's tacksmen, who lived in the neighbourhood, on receiving a message from sir allan, sent us a liberal supply. we continued to coast along mull, and passed by nuns' island, which, it is said, belonged to the nuns of icolmkill, and from which, we were told, the stone for the buildings there was taken. as we sailed along by moonlight, in a sea somewhat rough, and often between black and gloomy rocks, dr johnson said, 'if this be not roving among the hebrides, nothing is.' the repetition of words which he had so often previously used, made a strong impression on my imagination; and, by a natural course of thinking, led me to consider how our present adventures would appear to me at a future period. i have often experienced, that scenes through which a man has passed, improve by lying in the memory: they grow mellow. acti labores sunt jucundi. this may be owing to comparing them with present listless ease. even harsh scenes acquire a softness by length of time: [footnote: i have lately observed that this thought has been elegantly expressed by cowley: things which offend when present and affright. in memory, well painted, move delight.] and some are like very loud sounds, which do not please, or at least do not please so much, till you are removed to a certain distance. they may be compared to strong coarse pictures, which will not bear to be viewed near. even pleasing scenes improve by time, and seem more exquisite in recollection, than when they were present; if they have not faded to dimness in the memory. perhaps, there is so much evil in every human enjoyment, when present--so much dross mixed with it--that it requires to be refined by time; and yet i do not see why time should not melt away the good and the evil in equal proportions; why the shade should decay, and the light remain in preservation. after a tedious sail, which, by our following various turnings of the coast of mull, was extended to about forty miles, it gave us no small pleasure to perceive a light in the village of icolmkill, in which almost all the inhabitants of the island live, close to where the ancient building stood. as we approached the shore, the tower of the cathedral, just discernable in the air, was a picturesque object. when we had landed upon the sacred place, which, as long as i can remember, i had thought on with veneration, dr johnson and i cordially embraced. we had long talked of visiting icolmkill; and, from the lateness of the season, were at times very doubtful whether we should be able to effect our purpose. to have seen it, even alone, would have given me great satisfaction; but the venerable scene was rendered much more pleasing by the company of my great and pious friend, who was no less affected by it than i was; and who has described the impressions it should make on the mind, with such strength of thought, and energy of language, that i shall quote his words, as conveying my own sensations much more forcibly than i am capable of doing: we are now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. to abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. far from me, and from my friends, be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery or virtue. that man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of iona! [footnote: had our tour produced nothing else but this sublime passage, the world must have acknowledged that it was not made in vain. the present respectable president of the royal society was so much struck on reading it, that he clasped his hands together, and remained for some time in an attitude of silent admiration.] upon hearing that sir allan m'lean was arrived, the inhabitants, who still consider themselves as the people of m'lean, to whom the island formerly belonged, though the duke of argyle has at present possession of it, ran eagerly to him. we were accommodated this night in a large barn, the island affording no lodging that we should have liked so well. some good hay was strewed at one end of it, to form a bed for us, upon which we lay with our clothes on; and we were furnished with blankets from the village. each of us had a portmanteau for a pillow. when i awaked in the morning, and looked round me, i could not help smiling at the idea of the chief of the m'leans, the great english moralist, and myself, lying thus extended in such a situation. wednesday, th october early in the morning we surveyed the remains of antiquity at this place, accompanied by an illiterate fellow, as cicerone, who called himself a descendant of a cousin of saint columba, the founder of the religious establishment here. as i knew that many persons had already examined them, and as i saw dr johnson inspecting and measuring several of the ruins of which he has since given so full an account, my mind was quiescent; and i resolved; to stroll among them at my ease, to take no trouble to investigate minutely, and only receive the general impression of solemn antiquity, and the particular ideas of such objects as should of themselves strike my attention. we walked from the monastery of nuns to the great church or cathedral, as they call it, along an old broken causeway. they told us, that this had been a street; and that there were good houses built on each side. dr johnson doubted if it was any thing more than a paved road for the nuns. the convent of monks, the great church, oran's chapel, and four other chapels, are still to be discerned. but i must own that icolmkill did not answer my expectations; for they were high, from what i had read of it, and still more from what i had heard and thought of it, from my earliest years. dr johnson said, it came up to his expectations, because he had taken his impression from an account of it subjoined to sacheverel's history of the isle of man, where it is said, there is not much to be seen here. we were both disappointed, when we were shewn what are called the monuments of the kings of scotland, ireland, and denmark, and of a king of france. there are only some grave-stones flat on the earth, and we could see no inscriptions. how far short was this of marble monuments, like those in westminster abbey, which i had imagined here! the grave-stones of sir allan m'lean's family, and of that of m'quarrie, had as good an appearance as the royal grave-stones; if they were royal, we doubted. my easiness to give credit to what i heard in the course of our tour was too great. dr johnson's peculiar accuracy of investigation detected much traditional fiction, and many gross mistakes. it is not to be wondered at, that he was provoked by people carelessly telling him, with the utmost readiness and confidence, what he found, on questioning them a little more, was erroneous. of this there were innumerable instances. i left him and sir allan to breakfast in our barn, and stole back again to the cathedral, to indulge in solitude and devout meditation. while contemplating the venerable ruins, i reflected with much satisfaction, that the solemn scenes of piety never lose their sanctity and influence, though the cares and follies of life may prevent us from visiting them, or may even make us fancy that their effects are only 'as yesterday, when it is past', and never again to be perceived. i hoped, that, ever after having been in this holy place, i should maintain an exemplary conduct. one has a strange propensity to fix upon some point of time from whence a better course of life may begin. being desirous to visit the opposite shore of the island, where saint columba is said to have landed, i procured a horse from one m'ginnis, who ran along as my guide. the m'ginnises are said to be a branch of the clan of m'lean. sir allan had been told that this man had refused to send him some rum, at which the knight was in great indignation. 'you rascal!' said he. 'don't you know that i can hang you, if i please?' not averting to the chieftain's power over his clan, i imagined that sir allan had known of some capital crime that the fellow had committed, which he could discover, and so get him condemned; and said, 'how so?' 'why,' said sir allan, 'are they not all my people?' sensible in my inadvertency, and most willing to contribute what i could towards the continuation of feudal authority, 'very true,' said i. sir allan went on: 'refuse to send rum to me, you rascal! don't you know that, if i order you to go and cut a man's throat, you are to do it?' 'yes, an't please your honour! and my own too, and hang myself too.' the poor fellow denied that he had refused to send the rum. his making these professions was not merely a pretence in presence of his chief; for after he and i were out of sir allan's hearing, he told me, 'had he sent his dog for the rum, i would have given it: i would cut my bones for him.' it was very remarkable to find such an attachment to a chief, though he had then no connection with the island, and had not been there for fourteen years. sir allan, by way of upbraiding the fellow, said, 'i believe you are a campbell.' the place which i went to see is about two miles from the village. they call it portawherry, from the wherry in which columba came; though, when they shew the length of his vessel, as marked on the beach by two heaps of stones, they say, 'here is the length of the currach,' using the erse word. icolmkill is a fertile island. the inhabitants export some cattle and grain; and i was told, they import nothing but iron and salt. they are industrious, and make their own woollen and linen cloth; and they brew a good deal of beer, which we did not find in any of the other islands. we set sail again about mid-day, and in the evening landed on mull, near the house of the reverend mr neal m'leod, who having been informed of our coming, by a message from sir allan, came out to meet us. we were this night very agreeably entertained at his house. dr johnson observed to me, that he was the cleanest-headed man that he had met in the western islands. he seemed to be well acquainted with dr johnson's writings, and courteously said, 'i have been often obliged to you, though i never had the pleasure of seeing you before.' he told us, he had lived for some time in st kilda, under the tuition of the minister or catechist there, and had there first read horace and virgil. the scenes which they describe must have been a strong contrast to the dreary waste around him. thursday, st october this morning the subject of politicks was introduced. johnson. 'pulteney was as paltry a fellow as could be. he was a whig, who pretended to be honest; and you know it is ridiculous for a whig to pretend to be honest. he cannot hold it out.' he called mr pitt a meteor; sir robert walpole a fixed star. he said, 'it is wonderful to think that all the force of government was required to prevent wilkes from being chosen the chief magistrate of london, though the liverymen knew he would rob their shops, knew he would debauch their daughters.' [footnote: i think it incumbent on me to make some observation on this strong satirical sally on my classical companion, mr wilkes. reporting it lately from memory, in his presence, i expressed it thus: 'they knew he would rob their shops, if he durst; they knew he would debauch their daughters, if he could, which, according to the french phrase, may be said rencherir on dr johnson; but on looking into my journal, i found it as above, and would by no means make any addition. mr wilkes received both readings with a good humour that i cannot enough admire. indeed both he and i (as, with respect to myself, the reader has more than once had occasion to observe in the course of this journal) are too fond of a bon mot, not to relish it, though we should be ourselves the object of it. let me add, in justice to the gentleman here mentioned, that at a subsequent period, he was elected chief magistrate of london, and discharged the duties of that high office with great honour to himself, and advantage to the city. some years before dr johnson died, i was fortunate enough to bring him and mr wilkes together; the consequence of which was, that they were ever afterwards on easy and not unfriendly terms. the particulars i shall have great pleasure in relating at large in my life of dr johnson.] boswell. 'the history of england is so strange, that, if it were not so well vouched as it is, it would hardly be credible.' johnson. 'sir, if it were told as shortly, and with as little preparation for introducing the different events, as the history of the jewish kings, it would be equally liable to objections of improbability.' mr m'leod was much pleased with the justice and novelty of the thought. dr johnson illustrated what he had said, as follows: 'take, as an instance, charles the first's concessions to his parliament, which were greater and greater, in proportion as the parliament grew more insolent, and less deserving of trust. had these concessions been related nakedly, without any detail of the circumstances which generally led to them, they would not have been believed.' sir allan m'lean bragged, that scotland had the advantage of england, by its having more water. johnson, 'sir, we would not have your water, to take the vile bogs which produced it. you have too much! a man who is drowned has more water than either of us'; and then he laughed. (but this was surely robust sophistry: for the people of taste in england, who have seen scotland, own that its variety of rivers and lakes makes it naturally more beautiful than england, in that respect.) pursuing his victory over sir allan, he proceeded: 'your country consists of two things, stone and water. there is, indeed, a little earth above the stone in some places, but a very little; and the stone is always appearing. it is like a man in rags; the naked skin is still peeping out.' he took leave of mr m'leod, saying, 'sir, i thank you for your entertainment, and your conversation.' mr campbell, who had been so polite yesterday, came this morning on purpose to breakfast with us, and very obligingly furnished us with horses to proceed on our journey to mr m'lean's of lochbuy, where we were to pass the night. we dined at the house of dr alexander m'lean, another physician in mull, who was so much struck with the uncommon conversation of dr johnson, that he observed to me, 'this man is just a hogshead of sense.' dr johnson said of the turkish spy, which lay in the room, that it told nothing but what every body might have known at that time; and that what was good in it, did not pay you for the trouble of reading to find it. after a very tedious ride, through what appeared to me the most gloomy and desolate country i had ever beheld, we arrived, between seven and eight o'clock, at moy, the seat of the laird of lochbuy. buy, in erse, signifies yellow, and i at first imagined that the loch or branch of the sea here, was thus denominated, in the same manner as the red sea; but i afterwards learned that it derived its name from a hill above it, which being of a yellowish hue, has the epithet of buy. we had heard much of lochbuy's being a great roaring braggadocio, a kind of sir john falstaff, both in size and manners; but we found that they had swelled him up to a fictitious size, and clothed him with imaginary qualities. col's idea of him was equally extravagant, though very different: he told us, he was quite a don quixote; and said, he would give a great deal to see him and dr johnson together. the truth is, that lochbuy proved to be only a bluff, comely, noisy old gentleman, proud of his hereditary consequence, and a very hearty and hospitable landlord. lady lochbuy was sister to sir allan m'lean, but much older. he said to me, 'they are quite antediluvians.' being told that dr johnson did not hear well, lochbuy bawled out to him, 'are you of the johnstons of glencro, or of ardnamurchan?' dr johnson gave him a significant look, but made no answer; and i told lochbuy that he was not johnston, but johnson, and that he was an englishman. lochbuy some years ago tried to prove himself a weak man, liable to imposition, or, as we term it in scotland, a facile man, in order to set aside a lease which he had granted; but failed in the attempt. on my mentioning this circumstance to dr johnson, he seemed much surprized that such a suit was admitted by the scottish law, and observed, that 'in england no man is allowed to stultify himself.' [footnote: this maxim, however, has been controverted. see blackstone's commentaries, vol. ii, p. ; and the authorities there quoted.] sir allan, lochbuy, and i, had the conversation chiefly to ourselves to-night: dr johnson, being extremely weary, went to bed soon after supper. friday, d october before dr johnson came to breakfast, lady lochbuy said, 'he was a dungeon of wit'; a very common phrase in scotland to express a profoundness of intellect, though he afterwards told me, that he never had heard it. she proposed that he should have some cold sheep's head for breakfast. sir allan seemed displeased at his sister's vulgarity, and wondered how such a thought should come into her head. from a mischievous love of sport, i took the lady's part; and very gravely said, 'i think it is but fair to give him an offer of it. if he does not choose it, he may let it alone.' 'i think so,' said the lady, looking at her brother with an air of victory. sir allan, finding the matter desperate, strutted about the room, and took snuff. when dr johnson came in, she called to him, 'do you choose any cold sheep's-head, sir?' 'no, madam,' said he, with a tone of surprise and anger. 'it is here, sir,' said she, supposing he had refused it to save the trouble of bringing it in. they thus went on at cross purposes, till he confirmed his refusal in a manner not to be misunderstood; while i sat quietly by, and enjoyed my success. after breakfast, we surveyed the old castle, in the pit or dungeon of which lochbuy had some years before taken upon him to imprison several persons; and though he had been fined a considerable sum by the court of justiciary, he was so little affected by it, that while we were examining the dungeon, he said to me, with a smile, 'your father knows something of this' (alluding to my father's having sat as one of the judges on his trial). sir allan whispered me, that the laird could not be persuaded, that he had lost his heritable jurisdiction. we then set out for the ferry, by which we were to cross to the main land of argyleshire. lochbuy and sir allan accompanied us. we were told much of a war-saddle, on which this reputed don quixote used to be mounted; but we did not see it, for the young laird had applied it to a less noble purpose, having taken it to falkirk fair with a drove of black cattle. we bade adieu to lochbuy, and to our very kind conductor. sir allan m'lean, on the shore of mull, and then got into the ferry-boat, the bottom of which was strewed with branches of trees or bushes, upon which we sat. we had a good day and a fine passage, and in the evening landed at oban, where we found a tolerable inn. after having been so long confined at different times in islands, from which it was always uncertain when we could get away, it was comfortable to be now on the main land, and to know that, if in health, we might get to any place in scotland or england in a certain number of days. here we discovered from the conjectures which were formed, that the people on the main land were intirely ignorant of our motions; for in a glasgow news-paper we found a paragraph, which, as it contains a just and well-turned compliment to my illustrious friend, i shall insert: we are well assured that dr johnson is confined by tempestuous weather to the isle of sky; it being unsafe to venture, in a small boat upon such a stormy surge as is very common there at this time of the year. such a philosopher, detained on an almost barren island, resembles a whale left upon the strand. the latter will be welcome to every body, on account of his oil, his bone, etc. and the other will charm his companions, and the rude inhabitants, with his superior knowledge and wisdom, calm resignation, and unbounded benevolence. saturday, d october after a good night's rest, we breakfasted at our leisure. we talked of goldsmith's traveller, of which dr johnson spoke highly; and, while i was helping him on with his great coat, he repeated from it the character of the british nation, which he did with such energy, that the tear started into his eye: '"stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state. with daring aims irregularly great, pride in their port, defiance in their eye, i see the lords of humankind pass by, intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, by forms unfashion'd; fresh from nature's hand; fierce in their native hardiness of soul, true to imagin'd right, above control, while ev'n the peasant boasts these rights to scan, and learns to venerate himself as man."' we could get but one bridle here, which, according to the maxim detur digniori, was appropriated to dr johnson's sheltie. i and joseph rode with halters. we crossed in a ferry-boat a pretty wide lake, and on the farther side of it, close by the shore, found a hut for our inn. we were much wet. i changed my clothes in part, and was at pains to get myself well dried. dr johnson resolutely kept on all his clothes, wet as they were, letting them steam before the smoky turf fire. i thought him in the wrong; but his firmness was, perhaps, a species of heroism. i remember but little of our conversation. i mentioned shenstone's saying of pope, that he had the art of condensing sense more than any body. dr johnson said, 'it is not true, sir. there is more sense in a line of cowley than in a page' (or a sentence of ten lines--i am not quite certain of the very phrase) 'of pope.' he maintained that archibald, duke of argyle, was a narrow man. i wondered at this; and observed, that his building so great a house at inveraray was not like a narrow man. 'sir,' said he, 'when a narrow man has resolved to build a house, he builds it like another man. but archibald, duke of argyle, was narrow in his ordinary expences, in his quotidian expences.' the distinction is very just. it is in the ordinary expences of life that a man's liberality or narrowness is to be discovered. i never heard the word quotidian in this sense, and i imagined it to be a word of dr johnson's own fabrication; but i have since found it in young's night thoughts (night fifth): death's a destroyer of quotidian prey. and in my friend's dictionary, supported by the authorities of charles i and dr donne. it rained very hard as we journied on after dinner. the roar of torrents from the mountains, as we passed along in the dusk, and the other circumstances attending our ride this evening, have been mentioned with so much animation by dr johnson, that i shall not attempt to say any thing on the subject. we got at night to inveraray, where we found an excellent inn. even here, dr johnson would not change his wet clothes. the prospect of good accommodation cheered us much. we supped well; and after supper, dr johnson, whom i had not seen taste any fermented liquor during all our travels, called for a gill of whisky. 'come,' said he, 'let me know what it is that makes a scotchman happy!' he drank it all but a drop, which i begged leave to pour into my glass, that i might say we had drunk whisky together. i proposed mrs thrale should be our toast. he would not have her drunk in whisky, but rather 'some insular lady', so we drank one of the ladies whom we had lately left. he owned tonight, that he got as good a room and bed as at an english inn. i had here the pleasure of finding a letter from home, which relieved me from the anxiety i had suffered, in consequence of not having received any account of my family for many weeks. i also found a letter from mr garrick, which was a regale as agreeable as a pineapple would be in a desert. he had favoured me with his correspondence for many years; and when dr johnson and i were at inverness, i had written to him as follows: inverness, my dear sir, sunday, august, here i am, and mr samuel johnson actually with me. we were a night at fores, in coming to which, in the dusk of the evening, we passed over a bleak and blasted heath where macbeth met the witches. your old preceptor repeated, with much solemnity, the speech how far is't called to fores? what are these so wither'd and so wild in their attire, etc. this day we visited the ruins of macbeth's castle at inverness. i have had great romantick satisfaction in seeing johnson upon the classical scenes of shakspeare in scotland; which i really looked upon as almost as improbable as that 'birnam wood should come to dunsinane'. indeed, as i have always been accustomed to view him as a permanent london object, it would not be much more wonderful to me to see st paul's church moving along where we now are. as yet we have travelled in postchaises; but to-morrow we are to mount on horseback, and ascend into the mountains by fort augustus, and so on to the ferry, where we are to cross to sky. we shall see that island fully, and then visit some more of the hebrides; after which we are to land in argyleshire, proceed by glasgow to auchinleck, repose there a competent time, and then return to edinburgh, from whence the rambler will depart for old england again, as soon as he finds it convenient. hitherto we have had a very prosperous expedition. i flatter myself servetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit. he is in excellent spirits, and i have a rich journal of his conversation. look back, davy, [footnote: i took the liberty of giving this familiar appellation to my celebrated friend, to bring in a more lively manner to his remembrance the period when he was dr johnson's pupil.] to litchfield; run up through the time that has elapsed since you first knew mr johnson, and enjoy with me his present extraordinary tour. i could not resist the impulse of writing to you from this place. the situation of the old castle corresponds exactly to shakspeare's description. while we were there to-day, it happened oddly, that a raven perched upon one of the chimney-tops, and croaked. then i in my turn repeated, 'the raven himself is hoarse. that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan, under my battlements.' i wish you had been with us. think what enthusiastick happiness i shall have to see mr samuel johnson walking among the romantick rocks and woods of my ancestors at auchinleck! write to me at edinburgh. you owe me his verses on great george and tuneful cibber, and the bad verses which led him to make his fine ones on philips the musician. keep your promise, and let me have them. i offer my very best compliments to mrs garrick, and ever am your warm admirer and friend, james boswell. to david garrick, esq; london. his answer was as follows. hampton, september , , dear sir, you stole away from london, and left us all in the lurch; for we expected you one night at the club, and knew nothing of your departure. had i payed you what i owed you, for the book you bought for me, i should only have grieved for the loss of your company, and slept with a quiet conscience; but, wounded as it is, it must remain so till i see you again, though i am sure our good friend mr johnson will discharge the debt for me, if you will let him. your account of your journey to fores, the raven, old castle, &c. &c. made me half mad. are you not rather too late in the year for fine weather, which is the life and soul of seeing places? i hope your pleasure will continue qualis ab incepto, &c. your friend---[footnote: i have suppressed my mend's name from an apprehension of wounding his sensibility; but i would not withhold from my readers a passage which shews mr gamck's mode of writing as the manager of a theatre, and contains a pleasing trait of his domestick life. his judgment of dramatick pieces, so far as concerns their exhibition on the stage, must be allowed to have considerable weight. but from the effect which a perusal of the tragedy here condemned had upon myself, and from the opinions of some eminent criticks. i venture to pronounce that it has much poetical merit; and its author has distinguished himself by several performances which shew that the epithet poetaster was, in the present instance, much misapplied.] threatens me much. i only wish that he would put his threats in execution, and, if he prints his play, i will forgive him. i remember he complained to you, that his bookseller called for the money for some copies of his--, which i subscribed for, and that i desired him to call again. the truth is, that my wife was not at home, and that for weeks together i have not ten shillings in my pocket. however, had it been otherwise, it was not so great a crime to draw his poetical vengeance upon me. i despise all that he can do, and am glad that i can so easily get rid of him and his ingratitude. i am hardened both to abuse and ingratitude. you, i am sure, will no more recommend your poetasters to my civility and good offices. shall i recommend to you a play of eschylus (the prometheus), published and translated by poor old morel], who is a good scholar, and an acquaintance of mine. it will be but half a guinea, and your name shall be put in the list i am making for him. you will be in very good company. now for the epitaphs! (these, together with the verses on george the second, and colley gibber, as his poet laureat, of which imperfect copies are gone about, will appear in my life of dr johnson.) i have no more paper, or i should have said more to you. my love and respects to mr johnson. yours ever, d. garrick. i can't write. i have the gout in my hand. to james boswell, esq., edinburgh. sunday, th october we passed the forenoon calmly and placidly. i prevailed on dr johnson to read aloud ogden's sixth sermon on prayer, which he did with a distinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. he praised my favourite preacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, he fought infidels with their own weapons. as a specimen of ogden's manner, i insert the following passage from the sermon which dr johnson now read. the preacher, after arguing against that vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the hard principle of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination, that the only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to pray for them, is to produce good dispositions in ourselves towards them; thus expresses himself: a plain man may be apt to ask, but if this then, though enjoined in the holy scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when i am taught to pray for other persons, why is it that i do not plainly so express it? why is not the form of the petition brought nearer to the meaning? give them, say i to our heavenly father, what is good. but this, i am to understand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to alter. what is it then that i am doing? i am desiring to become charitable myself; and why may i not plainly say so? is there shame in it, or impiety? the wish is laudable: why should i form designs to hide it? or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and in this artful manner? alas! who is it that i would impose on? from whom can it be, in this commerce, that i desire to hide any thing? when, as my saviour commands me, i have 'entered into my closet, and shut my door', there are but two parties privy to my devotions, god and my own heart; which of the two am i deceiving? he wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any in the house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him; but i recollect none of them, except hervey's meditations. he thought slightingly of this admired book. he treated it with ridicule, and would not allow even the scene of the dying husband and father to be pathetick. i am not an impartial judge; for hervey's meditations engaged my affections in my early years. he read a passage concerning the moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the same style, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse of hervey's, representing her as treacherous to mankind. he did this with much humour; but i have not preserved the particulars. he then indulged a playful fancy, in making a meditation on a pudding, of which i hastily wrote down, in his presence, the following note; which, though imperfect, may serve to give my readers some idea of it. meditation on a pudding let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is composed. it is composed of flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of the morning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle hand of the beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might have recommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder, indulged no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no plans for the destruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is drawn from the cow, that useful animal, that eats the grass of the field, and supplies us with that which made the greatest part of the food of mankind in the age which the poets have agreed to call golden. it is made with an egg, that miracle of nature, which the theoretical burnet has compared to creation. an egg contains water within its beautiful smooth surface; and an unformed mass, by the incubation of the parent, becomes a regular animal, furnished with bones and sinews, and covered with feathers. let us consider; can there be more wanting to complete the meditation on a pudding? if more is wanting, more may be found. it contains salt, which keeps the sea from putrefaction: salt, which is made the image of intellectual excellence, contributes to the formation of a pudding. in a magazine i found a saying of dr johnson's, something to this purpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he passes lying awake in bed in the morning. i read it to him. he said, 'i may, perhaps, have said this; for nobody, at times, talks more laxly than i do.' i ventured to suggest to him, that this was dangerous from one of his authority. i spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should be with neighbours. i observed that some people were afraid of being on too easy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time would not be their own. he made the obvious remark, that it depended much on what kind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to be on an easy footing with them, or not. i mentioned a certain baronet, who told me, he never was happy in the country, till he was not on speaking terms with his neighbours, which he contrived in different ways to bring about. 'lord ---', said he, 'stuck along; but at last the fellow pounded my pigs, and then i got rid of him.' johnson. 'nay, sir, my lord got rid of sir john, and shewed how little he valued him, by putting his pigs in the pound.' i told dr johnson i was in some difficulty how to act at inveraray. i had reason to think that the duchess of argyle disliked me, on account of my zeal in the douglas cause; but the duke of argyle had always been pleased to treat me with great civility. they were now at the castle, which is a very short walk from our inn; and the question was, whether i should go and pay my respects there. dr johnson, to whom i had stated the case, was clear that i ought; but, in his usual way, he was very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself. though from a conviction of the benefit of subordination to society, he has always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he happened to be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever made him guard against any appearance of courting the great. besides, he was impatient to go to glasgow, where he expected letters. at the same time he was, i believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention paid him by so great a chieftain, and so exalted a nobleman. he insisted that i should not go to the castle this day before dinner, as it would look like seeking an invitation. 'but,' said i, 'if the duke invites us to dine with him to-morrow, shall we accept?' 'yes, sir,' i think he said, 'to be sure.' but, he added, 'he won't ask us!' i mentioned, that i was afraid my company might be disagreeable to the duchess. he treated this objection with a manly disdain: 'that, sir, he must settle with his wife.' we dined well. i went to the castle just about the time when i supposed the ladies would be retired from dinner. i sent in my name; and, being shewn in, found the amiable duke sitting at the head of his table with several gentlemen. i was most politely received, and gave his grace some particulars of the curious journey which i had been making with dr johnson. when we rose from table, the duke said to me, 'i hope you and dr johnson will dine with us to-morrow.' i thanked his grace; but told him, my friend was in a great hurry to get back to london. the duke, with a kind complacency, said, 'he will stay one day; and i will take care he shall see this place to advantage.' i said, i should be sure to let him know his grace's invitation. as i was going away, the duke said, 'mr boswell, won't you have some tea?' i thought it best to get over the meeting with the duchess this night; so respectfully agreed. i was conducted to the drawing-room by the duke, who announced my name; but the duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, lady betty hamilton, and some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. i should have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom i, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had i not been consoled by the obliging attention of the duke. when i returned to the inn, i informed dr johnson of the duke of argyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readily accepted of it. we talked of a violent contest which was then carrying on, with a view to the next general election for ayrshire; where one of the candidates, in order to undermine the old and established interest, had artfully held himself out as a champion for the independency of the county against aristocratick influence, and had persuaded several gentlemen into a resolution to oppose every candidate who was supported by peers. 'foolish fellows!' said dr johnson. 'didn't they see that they are as much dependent upon the peers one way as the other. the peers have but to oppose a candidate, to ensure him success. it is said, the only way to make a pig go forward, is to pull him back by the tail. these people must be treated like pigs.' monday, th october my acquaintance, the reverend mr john m'aulay, one of the ministers of inveraray, and brother to our good friend at calder, came to us this morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where i presented dr johnson to the duke of argyle. we were shewn through the house; and i never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy by some of the ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. after seeing for a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, and gay inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that i thought, for the moment, i could have been a knight-errant for them. [footnote: on reflection, at the distance of several years, i wonder that my venerable fellow-traveller should have read this passage without censuring my levity.] we then got into a low one-horse chair, ordered for us by the duke, in which we drove about the place. dr johnson was much struck by the grandeur and elegance of this princely seat. he thought, however, the castle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. he said, 'what i admire here, is the total defiance of expence.' i had a particular pride in shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate for the nakedness which had made such an impression on him on the eastern coast of scotland. when we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen in the hall. dr johnson took much notice of the large collection of arms, which are excellently disposed there. i told what he had said to sir alexander mcdonald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms to rust. 'well,' said the doctor, 'but let us be glad we live in times when arms may rust. we can sit to-day at his grace's table, without any risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded or maimed.' the duke placed dr johnson next himself at table. i was in fine spirits; and though sensible that i had the misfortune of not being in favour with the duchess, i was not in the least disconcerted, and offered her grace some of the dish that was before me. it must be owned that i was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if i could. i was the duke of argyle's guest; and i had no reason to suppose that he adopted the prejudices and resentments of the duchess of hamilton. i knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body; but, that i might have the satisfaction for once to look the duchess in the face, with a glass in my hand, i with a respectful air addressed her, 'my lady duchess, i have the honour to drink your grace's good health.' i repeated the words audibly, and with a steady countenance. this was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance must be made for human feelings. the duchess was very attentive to dr johnson. i know not how a middle state came to be mentioned. her grace wished to hear him on that point. 'madam,' said he, 'your own relation, mr archibald campbell, can tell you better about it than i can. he was a bishop of the nonjuring communion, and wrote a book upon the subject.' [footnote: as this book is now become very scarce, i shall subjoin the title, which is curious: 'the doctrines of a middle state between death and the resurrection: of prayers for the dead: and the necessity of purification: plainly proved from the holy scriptures, and the writings of the fathers of the primitive church: and acknowledged by several learned fathers and great divines of the church of england and others since the reformation. to which is added, an appendix concerning the descent of the soul of christ into hell, while his body lay in the grave. together with the judgment of the reverend dr hickes concerning this book, so far as relates to a middle state, particular judgment, and prayers for the dead as it appeared in the first edition. and a manuscript of the right reverend bishop overall upon the subject of a middle state, and never before printed. also, a preservative against several of the errors of the roman church, in six small treatises. by the honourable archibald campbell.' folio, .] he engaged to get it for her grace. he afterwards gave a full history of mr archibald campbell, which i am sorry i do not recollect particularly. he said, mr campbell had been bred a violent whig, but afterwards 'kept better company, and became a tory'. he said this with a smile, in pleasant allusion, as i thought, to the opposition between his own political principles and those of the duke's clan. he added that mr campbell, after the revolution, was thrown in gaol on account of his tenets; but, on application by letter to the old lord townshend, was released: that he always spoke of his lordship with great gratitude, saying, 'though a whig, he had humanity'. dr johnson and i passed some time together, in june , at pembroke college, oxford, with the reverend dr adams, the master, and i having expressed a regret that my note relative to mr archibald campbell was imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his own hand, on the blank page of my journal, opposite to that which contains what i have now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, is not quite so full as the narrative he gave at inveraray: the honourable archibald campbell was, i believe, the nephew of the marquis of argyle. he began life by engaging in monmouth's rebellion, and, to escape the law, lived some time in surinam. when he returned, he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at the revolution adhered not only to the nonjurors, but to those who refused to communicate with the church of england, or to be present at any worship where the usurper was mentioned as king. he was, i believe, more than once apprehended in the reign of king william, and once at the accession of george. he was the familiar friend of hicks and nelson; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious and inquisitive, but credulous. he lived in , or , about years old. the subject of luxury having been introduced, dr johnson defended it. 'we have now,' said he, 'a splendid dinner before us. which of all these dishes is unwholsome?' the duke asserted, that he had observed the grandees of spain diminished in their size by luxury. dr johnson politely refrained from opposing directly an observation which the duke himself had made; but said, 'man must be very different from other animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of all other animals is increased by it.' i made some remark that seemed to imply a belief in second sight. the duchess said, 'i fancy you will be a methodist.' this was the only sentence her grace deigned to utter to me; and i take it for granted, she thought it a good hit on my credulity in the douglas cause. a gentleman in company, after dinner, was desired by the duke to go to another room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wished to shew us. he brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him back again. he could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of servility, he whistled as he walked out of the room, to show his independency. on my mentioning this afterwards to dr johnson, he said, it was a nice trait of character. dr johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that lady betty hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his, leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. it would have made a fine picture to have drawn the sage and her at this time in their several attitudes. he did not know, all the while, how much he was honoured. i told him afterwards. i never saw him so gentle and complaisant as this day. we went to tea. the duke and i walked up and down the drawing-room, conversing. the duchess still continued to shew the same marked coldness for me; for which, though i suffered from it, i made every allowance, considering the very warm part that i had taken for douglas, cause in which she thought her son deeply interested. had not her grace discovered some displeasure towards me, i should have suspected her of insensibility or dissimulation. her grace made dr johnson come and sit by her, and asked him why he made his journey so late in the year. 'why, madam,' said he, 'you know mr boswell must attend the court of session, and it does not rise till the twelfth of august.' she said, with some sharpness, 'i know nothing of mr boswell.' poor lady lucy douglas, to whom i mentioned this, observed, 'she knew too much of mr boswell.' i shall make no remark on her grace's speech. i indeed felt it as rather too severe; but when i recollected that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, i had that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled by a silken cord. dr johnson was all attention to her grace. he used afterwards a droll expression, upon her enjoying the three titles of hamilton, brandon, and argyle. borrowing an image from the turkish empire, he called her a 'duchess with three tails'. he was much pleased with our visit at the castle of inveraray. the duke of argyle was exceedingly polite to him, and, upon his complaining of the shelties which he had hitherto ridden being too small for him, his grace told him he should be provided with a good horse to carry him next day. mr john m'aulay passed the evening with us at our inn. when dr johnson spoke of people whose principles were good, but whose practice was faulty, mr m'aulay said, he had no notion of people being in earnest in their good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them. the doctor grew warm, and said, 'sir, you are so grossly ignorant of human nature, as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good principles, without having good practice?' dr johnson was unquestionably in the right; and whoever examines himself candidly, will be satisfied of it, though the inconsistency between principles and practice is greater in some men than in others. i recollect very little of this night's conversation. i am sorry that indolence came upon me towards the conclusion of our journey, so that i did not write down what passed with the same assiduity as during the greatest part of it. tuesday, th october mr m'aulay breakfasted with us, nothing hurt or dismayed by his last night's correction. being a man of good sense, he had a just admiration of dr johnson. either yesterday morning, or this, i communicated to dr johnson, from mr m'aulay's information, the news that dr beattie had got a pension of two hundred pounds a year. he sat up in his bed, clapped his hands, and cried, 'o brave we!' a peculiar exclamation of his when he rejoices. [footnote: having mentioned, more than once, that my journal was perused by dr johnson, i think it proper to inform my readers that this is the last paragraph which he read.] as we sat over our tea, mr home's tragedy of douglas was mentioned. i put dr johnson in mind, that once, in a coffee-house at oxford, he called to old mr sheridan, 'how came you, sir, to give home a gold medal for writing that foolish play?' and defied mr sheridan to shew ten good lines in it. he did not insist they should be together, but that there were not ten good lines in the whole play. he now persisted in this. i endeavoured to defend that pathetick and beautiful tragedy, and repeated the following passage: '"... sincerity, thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave thy onward path, although the earth should gape, and from the gulph of hell destruction cry. to take dissimulation's winding way."' johnson. 'that will not do, sir. nothing is good but what is consistent with truth or probability, which this is not. juvenal, indeed, gives us a noble picture of inflexible virtue: esto bonus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem integer: ambiguae si quando citabere testis, incertaeque rei, phalaris licet imperet, ut sis falsus, et admoto dictet perjuria tauro, summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori, et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas. [footnote: an honest guardian, arbitrator just. be thou; thy station deem a sacred trust. with thy good sword maintain thy country's cause; in every action venerate its laws: the lie suborn'd if falsely urg'd to swear, though torture wait thee, torture firmly bear; to forfeit honour, think the highest shame, and life too dearly bought by loss of fame; nor, to preserve it, with thy virtue give that for which only man should wish to live. for this and the other translations to which no signature is affixed, i am indebted to the friend whose observations are mentioned in notes.] he repeated the lines with great force and dignity; then added, 'and, after this, comes johnny hoe, with his earth gaping, and his destruction crying--pooh!' [footnote: i am sorry that i was unlucky in my quotation. but notwithstanding the acuteness of dr johnson's criticism, and the power of his ridicule, the tragedy of douglas still continues to be generally and deservedly admired.] while we were lamenting the number of ruined religious buildings which we had lately seen, i spoke with peculiar feeling to the miserable neglect of the chapel belonging to the palace of holyrood house, in which are deposited the remains of many of the kings of scotland, and of many of our nobility. i said, it was a disgrace to the country that it was not repaired: and particularly complained that my friend douglas, the representative of a great house, and proprietor of a vast estate, should suffer the sacred spot where his mother lies interred, to be unroofed, and exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather. dr johnson, who, i know not how, had formed an opinion on the hamilton side, in the douglas cause, slily answered, 'sir, sir, don't be too severe upon the gentleman; don't accuse him of want of filial piety! lady jane douglas was not his mother.' he roused my zeal so much that i took the liberty to tell him he knew nothing of the cause; which i do most seriously believe was the case. we were now 'in a country of bridles and saddles', and set out fully equipped. the duke of argyle was obliging enough to mount dr johnson on a stately steed from his grace's stable. my friend was highly pleased, and joseph said, 'he now looks like a bishop.' we dined at the inn at tarbat, and at night came to rosedow, the beautiful seat of sir james colquhoun, on the banks of lochlomond, where i, and any friends whom i have introduced, have ever been received with kind and elegant hospitality. wednesday, th october when i went into dr johnson's room this morning, i observed to him how wonderfully courteous he had been at inveraray, and said, 'you were quite a fine gentleman, when with the duchess.' he answered, in good humour, 'sir, i look upon myself as a very polite man': and he was right, in a proper manly sense of the word. as an immediate proof of it, let me observe, that he would not send back the duke of argyle's horse without a letter of thanks, which i copied. to his grace the duke of argyle. my lord, that kindness which disposed your grace to supply me with the horse, which i have now returned, will make you pleased to hear that he has carried me well. by my diligence in the little commission with which i was honoured by the duchess, i will endeavour to shew how highly i value the favours which i have received, and how much i desire to be thought, my lord, your grace's most obedient, and most humble servant, sam. johnson rosedow, oct. , . the duke was so attentive to his respectable guest, that on the same day, he wrote him an answer, which was received at auchinleck: to dr johnson, auchinleck, ayrshire. sir, i am glad to hear your journey from this place was not unpleasant, in regard to your horse. i wish i could have supplied you with good weather, which i am afraid you felt the want of. the duchess of argyle desires her compliments to you, and is much obliged to you for remembering her commission. i am, sir, your most obedient humble servant, argyle. inveraray, oct. , . i am happy to insert every memorial of the honour done to my great friend. indeed, i was at all times desirous to preserve the letters which he received from eminent persons, of which, as of all other papers, he was very negligent; and i once proposed to him, that they should be committed to my care, as his gustos rotulorum. i wish he had complied with my request, as by that means many valuable writings might have been preserved, that are now lost. [footnote: as a remarkable instance of his negligence, i remember some years ago to have found lying loose in his study, and without the cover, which contained the address, a letter to him from lord thurlow, to whom he had made an application as chancellor, in behalf of a poor literary friend. it was expressed in such terms of respect for dr johnson, that, in my zeal for his reputation, i remonstrated warmly with him on his strange inattention, and obtained his permission to take a copy of it; by which probably it has been preserved, as the original i have reason to suppose is lost.] after breakfast, dr johnson and i were furnished with a boat, and sailed about upon lochlomond, and landed on some of the islands which are interspersed. he was much pleased with the scene, which is so well known by the accounts of various travellers, that it is unnecessary for me to attempt any description of it. i recollect none of his conversation, except that, when talking of dress, he said, 'sir, were i to have any thing fine, it should be very fine. were i to wear a ring, it should not be a bauble, but a stone of great value. were i to wear a laced or embroidered waistcoat, it should be very rich. i had once a very rich laced waistcoat, which i wore the first night of my tragedy.' lady helen colquhoun being a very pious woman, the conversation, after dinner, took a religious turn. her ladyship defended the presbyterian mode of publick worship; upon which dr johnson delivered those excellent arguments for a form of prayer which he has introduced into his journey. i am myself fully convinced that a form of prayer for publick worship is in general most decent and edifying. solennia verba have a kind of prescriptive sanctity, and make a deeper impression on the mind than extemporaneous effusions, in which, as we know not what they are to be, we cannot readily acquiesce. yet i would allow also of a certain portion of extempore address, as occasion may require. this is the practice of the french protestant churches. and although the office of forming supplications to the throne of heaven is, in my mind, too great a trust to be indiscriminately committed to the discretion of every minister, i do not mean to deny that sincere devotion may be experienced when joining in prayer with those who use no liturgy. we were favoured with sir james colquhoun's coach to convey us in the evening to cameron, the seat of commissary smollet. our satisfaction of finding ourselves again in a comfortable carriage was very great. we had a pleasing conviction of the commodiousness of civilization, and heartily laughed at the ravings of those absurd visionaries who have attempted to persuade us of the superior advantages of a state of nature. mr smollet was a man of considerable learning, with abundance of animal spirits; so that he was a very good companion for dr johnson, who said to me, 'we have had more solid talk here than at any place where we have been.' i remember dr johnson gave us this evening an able and eloquent discourse on the origin of evil, and on the consistency of moral evil with the power and goodness of god. he shewed us how it arose from our free agency, an extinction of which would be a still greater evil than any we experience. i know not that he said any thing absolutely new, but he said a great deal wonderfully well; and perceiving us to be delighted and satisfied, he concluded his harangue with an air of benevolent triumph over an objection which has distressed many worthy minds: this then is the answer to the question, [words in greek]?' mrs smollet whispered me, that it was the best sermon she had ever heard. much do i upbraid myself for having neglected to preserve it. thursday, th october mr smollet pleased dr johnson, by producing a collection of news-papers in the time of the usurpation, from which it appeared that all sorts of crimes were very frequent during that horrible anarchy. by the side of the high road to glasgow, at some distance from his house, he had erected a pillar to the memory of his ingenious kinsman, dr smollet; and he consulted dr johnson as to an inscription for it. lord kames, who, though he had a great store of knowledge, with much ingenuity, and uncommon activity of mind, was no profound scholar, had it seems recommended an english inscription. dr johnson treated this with great contempt, saying 'an english inscription would be a disgrace to dr smollet'; and, in answer to what lord kames had urged, as to the advantage of its being in english, because it would be generally understood, i observed, that all to whom dr smollet's merit could be an object of respect and imitation, would understand it as well in latin; and that surely it was not meant for the highland drovers, or other such people, who pass and repass that way. we were then shewn a latin inscription, proposed for this monument. dr johnson sat down with an ardent and liberal earnestness to revise it, and greatly improved it by several additions and variations. i unfortunately did not take a copy of it, as it originally stood; but i have happily preserved every fragment of what dr johnson wrote: quisquis ades, viator, vel mente felix, vel studiis cultus, immorare paululum memoriae tobiae smollet m.d. viri iis virtutibus quas in homine et cive et laudes, et imiteris, ..... postquam mira... se......... .... tali tantoque viro, suo patrueli, ...... hanc columnam, amoris eheul inane monumentum, in ipsis leviniae ripis, quas primis infans vagitibus personuit, versiculisque jam fere moriturus illustravit, ponendam curavit ......... [footnote: the epitaph which has been inscribed on the pillar erected on the banks of the leven, in honour of dr smollet, is as follows. the part which was written by dr johnson, it appears, has been altered: whether for the better, the reader will judge. the alterations are distinguished by italicks [all caps]. siste viator! si lepores ingeniique venam benignam, si morum callidissimum pictorem, unquam es miratus, immorare paululum memoriae tobiae smollet, m.d. viri virtutibus hisce quas in homine et cive et laudes et imiteris. haud mediocriter ornati: qui in literis variis versatus. postquam felicitate sibi propria sese posteris commendaverat, morte acerba raptus anno oetatis eheul quam procul a patria! prope liburni portum in italia, jacet sepultus. tali tantoque viro, patrueli suo, cui in decursu lampada se pottus tradidisse decuit, hanc columnam, amoris, eheul inane monumentum in ipsis leviniae ripis, quas versiculis sub exitu vitae illustratas primis infans vagitibus personuit, ponendam curavit jacobus smollet de bonhill abi et reminscere. hoc quidem honore, non modo defuncti memoriae, verum ettam exemplo, prospectum esse; aliis enim, si modo digni sint, idem erit virtutis praemium!] we had this morning a singular proof of dr johnson's quick and retentive memory. hay's translation of martial was lying in a window. i said, i thought it was pretty well done, and shewed him a particular epigram, i think, of ten, but am certain of eight, lines. he read it, and tossed away the book, saying 'no, it is not pretty well.' as i persisted in my opinion, he said, 'why, sir, the original is thus' (and he repeated it); 'and this man's translation is thus,' and then he repeated that also, exactly, though he had never seen it before, and read it over only once, and that too, without any intention of getting it by heart. here a post-chaise, which i had ordered from glasgow, came for us, and we drove on in high spirits. we stopped at dunbarton, and though the approach to the castle there is very steep, dr johnson ascended it with alacrity, and surveyed all that was to be seen. during the whole of our tour he shewed uncommon spirit, could not bear to be treated like an old or infirm man, and was very unwilling to accept of any assistance, insomuch that, at our landing at icolmkill, when sir allan mclean and i submitted to be carried on men's shoulders from the boat to the shore, as it could not be brought quite close to land, he sprang into the sea, and waded vigorously out. on our arrival at the saracen's head inn, at glasgow, i was made happy by good accounts from home; and dr johnson, who had not received a single letter since we left aberdeen, found here a great many, the perusal of which entertained him much. he enjoyed in imagination the comforts which we could now command, and seemed to be in high glee. i remember, he put a leg up on each side of the grate, and said, with a mock solemnity, by way of soliloquy, but loud enough for me to hear it, 'here am i, an english man, sitting by a coal fire.' friday, th october the professors of the university being informed of our arrival, dr stevenson, dr reid, and mr anderson, breakfasted with us. mr anderson accompanied us while dr johnson viewed this beautiful city. he had told me, that one day in london, when dr adam smith was boasting of it, he turned to him and said, 'pray, sir, have you ever seen brentford?' this was surely a strong instance of his impatience, and spirit of contradiction. i put him in mind of it to-day, while he expressed his admiration of the elegant buildings, and whispered him, 'don't you feel some remorse?' we were received in the college by a number of the professors, who shewed all due respect to dr johnson; and then we paid a visit to the principal, dr leechman, at his own house, where dr johnson had the satisfaction of being told that his name had been gratefully celebrated in one of the parochial congregations in the highlands, as the person to whose influence it was chiefly owing, that the new testament was allowed to be translated into the erse language. it seems some political members of the society in scotland for propagating christian knowledge, had opposed this pious undertaking, as tending to preserve the distinction between the highlanders and lowlanders. dr johnson wrote a long letter upon the subject to a friend, which being shewn to them, made them ashamed, and afraid of being publickly exposed; so they were forced to a compliance. it is now in my possession, and is, perhaps, one of the best productions of his masterly pen. professors reid and anderson, and the two messieurs foulis, the elzevirs of glasgow, dined and drank tea with us at our inn, after which the professors went away; and i, having a letter to write, left my fellow-traveller with messieurs foulis. though good and ingenious men, they had that unsettled speculative mode of conversation which is offensive to a man regularly taught at an english school and university. i found that, instead of listening to the dictates of the sage, they had teazed him with questions and doubtful disputations. he came in a flutter to me, and desired i might come back again, for he could not bear these men. 'o ho! sir,' said i, 'you are flying to me for refuge!' he never, in any situation, was at a loss for a ready repartee. he answered, with quick vivacity, 'it is of two evils chooseing the least.' i was delighted with this flash bursting from the cloud which hung upon his mind, closed my letter directly, and joined the company. we supped at professor andersen's. the general impression upon my memory is, that we had not much conversation at glasgow where the professors, like their brethren at aberdeen, did not venture to expose themselves much to the battery of cannon which they knew might play upon them. dr johnson, who was fully conscious of his own superior powers, afterwards praised principal robertson for his caution in this respect. he said to me, 'robertson, sir, was in the right. robertson is a man of eminence, and the head of a college at edinburgh. he had a character to maintain, and did well not to risk its being lessened.' saturday, th october we set out towards ayrshire. i sent joseph on to loudoun, with a message, that, if the earl was at home, dr johnson and i would have the honour to dine with him. joseph met us on the road, and reported that the earl 'jumped for joy', and said, 'i shall be very happy to see them.' we were received with a most pleasing courtesy by his lordship, and by the countess his mother, who, in her ninety-fifth year, had all her faculties quite unimpaired. this was a very cheering sight to dr johnson, who had an extraordinary desire for long life. her ladyship was sensible and well-informed, and had seen a great deal of the world. her lord had held several high offices, and she was sister to the great earl of stair. i cannot here refrain from paying a just tribute to the character of john earl of loudoun, who did more service to the county of ayr in general, as well as to individuals in it, than any man we have ever had. it is painful to think that he met with much ingratitude from persons both in high and low rank: but such was his temper, such his knowledge of 'base mankind,' [footnote: the unwilling gratitude of base mankind. pope.] that, as if he had expected no other return, his mind was never soured, and he retained his good-humour and benevolence to the last. the tenderness of his heart was proved in - , when he had an important command in the highlands, and behaved with a generous humanity to the unfortunate. i cannot figure a more honest politician; for, though his interest in our county was great, and generally successful, he not only did not deceive by fallacious promises, but was anxious that people should not deceive themselves by too sanguine expectations. his kind and dutiful attention to his mother was unremitted. at his house was true hospitality; a plain but a plentiful table; and every guest, being left at perfect freedom, felt himself quite easy and happy. while i live, i shall honour the memory of this amiable man. at night, we advanced a few miles farther, to the house of mr campbell of treesbank, who was married to one of my wife's sisters, and were entertained very agreeably by a worthy couple. sunday, st october we reposed here in tranquillity. dr johnson was pleased to find a numerous and excellent collection of books, which had mostly belonged to the reverend mr john campbell, brother of our host. i was desirous to have procured for my fellow traveller, to-day, the company of sir john cuninghame, of caprington, whose castle was but two miles from us. he was a very distinguished scholar, long abroad, and during part of the time lived much with the learned cuninghame, the opponent of bentley as a critick upon horace. he wrote latin with great elegance, and, what is very remarkable, read homer and ariosto through every year. i wrote to him to request he would come to us; but unfortunately he was prevented by indisposition. monday, st november though dr johnson was lazy, and averse to move, i insisted that he should go with me, and pay a visit to the countess of eglintoune, mother of the late and present earl. i assured him, he would find himself amply recompensed for the trouble; and he yielded to my solicitations, though with some unwillingness. we were well mounted, and had not many miles to ride. he talked of the attention that is necessary in order to distribute our charity judiciously. 'if thoughtlessly done, we may neglect the most deserving objects; and, as every man has but a certain proportion to give, if it is lavished upon those who first present themselves, there may be nothing left for such as have a better claim. a man should first relieve those who are nearly connected with him, by whatever tie; and then, if he has any thing to spare, may extend his bounty to a wider circle.' as we passed very near the castle of dundonald, which was one of the many residencies of the kings of scotland, and in which robert the second lived and died, dr johnson wished to survey it particularly. it stands on a beautiful rising ground, which is seen at a great distance on several quarters, and from whence there is an extensive prospect of the rich district of cuninghame, the western sea, the isle of arran, and a part of the northern coast of ireland. it has long been unroofed; and, though of considerable size, we could not, by any power of imagination, figure it as having been a suitable habitation for majesty. dr johnson, to irritate my old scottish enthusiasm, was very jocular on the homely accommodation of 'king bob', and roared and laughed till the ruins echoed. lady eglintoune, though she was now in her eighty-fifth year, and had lived in the retirement of the country for almost half a century, was still a very agreeable woman. she was of the noble house of kennedy, and had all the elevation which the consciousness of such birth inspires. her figure was majestick, her manners high-bred, her reading extensive, and her conversation elegant. she had been the admiration of the gay circles of life, and the patroness of poets. dr johnson was delighted with his reception here. her principles in church and state were congenial with his. she knew all his merit, and had heard much of him from her son, earl alexander, who loved to cultivate the acquaintance of men of talents, in every department. all who knew his lordship, will allow that his understanding and accomplishments were of no ordinary rate. from the gay habits which he had early acquired, he spent too much of his time with men, and in pursuits far beneath such a mind as his. he afterwards became sensible of it, and turned his thoughts to objects of importance; but was cut off in the prime of his life. i cannot speak, but with emotions of the most affectionate regret, of one, in whose company many of my early days were passed, and to whose kindness i was much indebted. often must i have occasion to upbraid myself, that soon after our return to the main land, i allowed indolence to prevail over me so much, as to shrink from the labour of continuing my journal with the same minuteness as before; sheltering myself in the thought, that we had done with the hebrides; and not considering, that dr johnson's memorabilia were likely to be more valuable when we were restored to a more polished society. much has thus been irrecoverably lost. in the course of our conversation this day, it came out, that lady eglintoune was married the year before dr johnson was born; upon which she graciously said to him, that she might have been his mother; and that she now adopted him; and when we were going away, she embraced him, saying, 'my dear son, farewell!' my friend was much pleased with this day's entertainment, and owned that i had done well to force him out. tuesday, d november we were now in a country not only 'of saddles and bridles', but of post-chaises; and having ordered one from kilmarnock, we got to auchinleck before dinner. my father was not quite a year and a half older than dr johnson; but his conscientious discharge of his laborious duty as a judge in scotland, where the law proceedings are almost all in writing, a severe complaint which ended in his death, and the loss of my mother, a woman of almost unexampled piety and goodness, had before this time in some degree affected his spirits, and rendered him less disposed to exert his faculties: for he had originally a very strong mind, and cheerful temper. he assured me, he never had felt one moment of what is called low spirits, or uneasiness, without a real cause. he had a great many good stories, which he told uncommonly well, and he was remarkable for 'humour, incolumi gravitate', as lord monboddo used to characterize it. his age, his office, and his character, had long given him an acknowledged claim to great attention, in whatever company he was; and he could ill brook any diminution of it. he was as sanguine a whig and presbyterian, as dr johnson was a tory and church of england man: and as he had not much leisure to be informed of dr johnson's great merits by reading his works, he had a partial and unfavourable notion of him, founded on his supposed political tenets; which were so discordant to his own, that, instead of speaking of him with respect to which he was entitled, he used to call him 'a jacobite fellow'. knowing all this, i should not have ventured to bring them together, had not my father, out of kindness to me, desired me to invite dr johnson his house. i was very anxious that all should be well; and begged of my friend to avoid three topicks, as to which they differed very widely; whiggism, presbyterianism, and--sir john pringle. he said courteously, 'i shall certainly not talk on subjects which i am told are disagreeable to a gentleman under whose roof i am; especially, i shall not do so to your father.' our first day went off very smoothly. it rained, and we could not get out; but my father shewed dr johnson his library, which, in curious editions of the greek and roman classicks, is, i suppose, not excelled by any private collection in great britain. my father had studied at leyden, and been very intimate with the gronovii, and other learned men there. he was a sound scholar, and, in particular, had collated manuscripts and different editions of anacreon, and others of the greek lyrick poets, with great care; so that my friend and he had much matter for conversation, without touching on the fatal topicks of difference. dr johnson found here baxter's anacreon, which he told me he had long inquired for in vain, and began to suspect there was no such book. baxter was the keen antagonist of barnes. his life is in the biographia britannica. my father has written many notes on this book, and dr johnson and i talked of having it reprinted. wednesday, d november it rained all day, and gave dr johnson an impression of that incommodiousness of climate in the west, of which he has taken notice in his journey; but, being well accommodated, and furnished with variety of books, he was not dissatisfied. some gentlemen of the neighbourhood came to visit my father; but there was little conversation. one of them asked dr johnson how he liked the highlands. the question seemed to irritate him, for he answered, 'how, sir, can you ask me what obliges me to speak unfavourably of a country where i have been hospitably entertained? who can like the highlands? --i like the inhabitants very well.' the gentleman asked no more questions. let me now make up for the present neglect, by again gleaning from the past. at lord monboddo's, after the conversation upon the decrease of learning in england, his lordship mentioned hermes by mr harris of salisbury, as the work of a living authour, for whom he had a great respect. dr johnson said nothing at the time; but when we were in our post-chaise, told me, he thought harris 'a coxcomb'. this he said of him, not as a man, but as an authour; and i give his opinions of men and books, faithfully, whether they agree with my own, or not. i do admit, that there always appeared to me something of affectation in mr harris's manner of writing; something of a habit of clothing plain thoughts in analytick and categorical formality. but all his writings are imbued with learning; and all breathe that philanthropy and amiable disposition, which distinguished him as a man. [footnote: this gentleman, though devoted to the study of grammar and dialecticks, was not so absorbed in it as to be without a sense of pleasantry, or to be offended at his favourite topicks being treated lightly. i one day met him in the street, as i was hastening to the house of lords, and told him, i was sorry i could not stop, being rather too late to attend an appeal of the duke of hamilton against douglas. 'i thought,' said he, 'their contest had been over long ago.' i answered, 'the contest concerning douglas's filiation was over long ago; but the contest now is, who shall have the estate.' then, assuming the air of 'an antient sage philosopher', i proceeded thus: 'were i to predicate concerning him, i should say, the contest formerly was, what is he? the contest now is, what has he?' 'right,' replied mr harris, smiling, 'you have done with quality, and have got into quantity.'] at another time, during our tour, he drew the character of a rapacious highland chief with the strength of theophrastus or la bruyere; concluding with these words: 'sir, he has no more the soul of a chief, than an attorney who has twenty houses in a street, and considers how much he can make by them.' he this day, when we were by ourselves, observed, how common it was for people to talk from books; to retail the sentiments of others, and not their own; in short, to converse without any originality of thinking. he was pleased to say, 'you and i do not talk from books.' thursday, th november i was glad to have at length a very fine day, on which i could shew dr johnson the place of my family, which he has honoured with so much attention in his journey. he is, however, mistaken in thinking that the celtick name, auchinleck, has no relation to the natural appearance of it. i believe every celtick name of a place will be found very descriptive. auchinleck does not signify a 'stony field', as he has said, but a 'field of flag stones'; and this place has a number of rocks, which abound in strata of that kind. the 'sullen dignity of the old castle', as he has forcibly expressed it, delighted him exceedingly. on one side of the rock on which its ruins stand, runs the river lugar, which is here of considerable breadth, and is bordered by other high rocks, shaded with wood. on the other side runs a brook, skirted in the same manner, but on a smaller scale. i cannot figure a more romantick scene. i felt myself elated here, and expatiated to my illustrious mentor on the antiquity and honourable alliances of my family, and on the merits of its founder, thomas boswell, who was highly favoured by his sovereign, james iv of scotland, and fell with him at the battle of flodden field; and in the glow of what, i am sensible, will, in a commercial age, be considered as genealogical enthusiasm, did not omit to mention what i was sure my friend would not think lightly of, my relation to the royal personage, whose liberality, on his accession to the throne, had given him comfort and independence. i have, in a former page, acknowledged my pride of ancient blood, in which i was encouraged by dr johnson: my readers therefore will not be surprised at my having indulged it on this occasion. not far from the old castle is a spot of consecrated earth, on which may be traced the foundations of an ancient chapel, dedicated to st vincent, and where in old times 'was the place of graves' for the family. it grieves me to think that the remains of sanctity here, which were considerable, were dragged away, and employed in building a part of the house of auchinleck, of the middle age; which was the family residence, till my father erected that 'elegant modern mansion', of which dr johnson speaks so handsomely. perhaps this chapel may one day be restored. dr johnson was pleased, when i shewed him some venerable old trees, under the shade of which my ancestors had walked. he exhorted me to plant assiduously, as my father had done to a great extent. as i wandered with my reverend friend in the groves of auchinleck, i told him, that, if i survived him, it was my intention to erect a monument to him here, among scenes which, in my mind, were all classical; for in my youth i had appropriated to them many of the descriptions of the roman poets. he could not bear to have death presented to him in any shape; for his constitutional melancholy made the king of terrours more frightful. he turned off the subject, saying, 'sir, i hope to see your grand-children!' this forenoon he observed some cattle without horns, of which he has taken notice in his journey, and seems undecided whether they be of a particular race. his doubts appear to have had no foundation; for my respectable neighbour, mr fairlie, who, with all his attention to agriculture, finds time both for the classicks and his friends, assures me they are a distinct species, and that, when any of their calves have horns, a mixture of breed can be traced. in confirmation of his opinion, he pointed out to me the following passage in tacitus, ne armentis quidem suus honor, aut gloria frontis (de mor. germ. section ) which he wondered had escaped dr johnson. on the front of the house of auchinleck is this inscription: ... quod petis, hic est; est ulubris, animus si te non deficit aequus. it is characteristick of the founder; but the animus aequus is, alas! not inheritable, nor the subject of devise. he always talked to me as if it were in a man's own power to attain it; but dr johnson told me that he owned to him, when they were alone, his persuasion that it was in a great measure constitutional, or the effect of causes which do not depend on ourselves, and that horace boasts too much, when he says, aequum mi animum ipse parabo. friday, th november the reverend mr dun, our parish minister, who had dined with us yesterday, with some other company, insisted that dr johnson and i should dine with him to-day. this gave me an opportunity to shew my friend the road to the church, made by my father at a great expence, for above three miles, on his own estate, through a range of well enclosed farms, with a row of trees on each side of it. he called it the via sacra, and was very fond of it. dr johnson, though he held notions far distant from those of the presbyterian clergy, yet could associate on good terms with them. he indeed occasionally attacked them. one of them discovered a narrowness of information concerning the dignitaries of the church of england, among whom may be found men of the greatest learning, virtue, and piety, and of a truly apostolic character. he talked before dr johnson, of fat bishops and drowsy deans; and, in short, seemed to believe the illiberal and profane scoffings of professed satyrists, or vulgar railers. dr johnson was so highly offended, that he said to him, 'sir, you know no more of our church than a hottentot.' i was sorry that he brought this upon himself. saturday, th november i cannot be certain, whether it was on this day, or a former, that dr johnson and my father came in collision. if i recollect right, the contest began while my father was shewing him his collection of medals; and oliver cromwell's coin unfortunately introduced charles the first, and toryism. they became exceedingly warm, and violent, and i was very much distressed by being present at such an altercation between the two men, both of whom i reverenced; yet i durst not interfere. it would certainly be very unbecoming in me to exhibit my honoured father, and my respected friend, as intellectual gladiators, for the entertainment of the publick; and therefore i suppress what would, i dare say, make an interesting scene in this dramatick sketch this account of the transit of johnson over the caledonian hemisphere. yet i think i may, without impropriety, mention one circumstance, as an instance of my father's address. dr johnson challenged him, as he did us all at talisker, to point out any theological works of merit written by presbyterian ministers in scotland. my father, whose studies did not lie much in that way, owned to me afterwards, that he was somewhat at a loss how to answer, but that luckily he recollected having read in catalogues the title of durham on the galatians; upon which he boldly said, 'pray, sir, have you read mr durham's excellent commentary on the galatians?' 'no, sir,' said dr johnson. by this lucky thought my father kept him at bay, and for some time enjoyed his triumph; but his antagonist soon made a retort, which i forbear to mention. in the course of their altercation, whiggism and presbyterianism, toryism and episcopacy, were terribly buffeted. my worthy hereditary friend, sir john pringle, never having been mentioned, happily escaped without a bruise. my father's opinion of dr johnson may be conjectured from the name he afterwards gave him, which was ursa major. but it is not true, as has been reported, that it was in consequence of my saying that he was a constellation of genius and literature. it was a sly abrupt expression to one of his brethren on the bench of the court of session, in which dr johnson was then standing; but it was not said in his hearing. sunday, th november my father and i went to publick worship in our parish-church, in which i regretted that dr johnson would not join us; for, though we have there no form of prayer, nor magnificent solemnity, yet, as god is worshipped in spirit and in truth, and the same doctrines preached as in the church of england, my friend would certainly have shewn more liberality, had he attended. i doubt not, however, but he employed his time in private to very good purpose. his uniform and fervent piety was manifested on many occasions during our tour, which i have not mentioned. his reason for not joining in presbyterian worship has been recorded in a former page. monday, th november notwithstanding the altercation that had passed, my father who had the dignified courtesy of an old baron, was very civil to dr johnson, and politely attended him to the post-chaise, which was to convey us to edinburgh. thus they parted. they are now in another, and a higher, state of existence: and as they were both worthy christian men, i trust they have met in happiness. but i must observe, in justice to my friend's political principles, and my own, that they have met in a place where there is no room for whiggism. we came at night to a good inn at hamilton. i recollect no more. tuesday, th november i wished to have shewn dr johnson the duke of hamilton's house, commonly called the palace of hamilton, which is close by the town. it is an object which, having been pointed out to me as a splendid edifice, from my earliest years, in travelling between auchinleck and edinburgh, has still great grandeur in my imagination. my friend consented to stop, and view the outside of it, but could not be persuaded to go into it. we arrived this night at edinburgh, after an absence of eighty-three days. for five weeks together, of the tempestuous season, there had been no account received of us. i cannot express how happy i was on finding myself again at home. wednesday, th november old mr drummond, the bookseller, came to breakfast. dr johnson and he had not met for ten years. there was respect on his side, and kindness on dr johnson's. soon afterwards lord elibank came in, and was much pleased at seeing dr johnson in scotland. his lordship said, 'hardly any thing seemed to him more improbable'. dr johnson had a very high opinion of him. speaking of him to me, he characterized him thus: 'lord elibank has read a great deal. it is true, i can find in books all that he has read; but he has a great deal of what is in books, proved by the test of real life.' indeed, there have been few men whose conversation discovered more knowledge enlivened by fancy. he published several small pieces of distinguished merit; and has left some in manuscript, in particular an account of the expedition against carthagena, in which he served as an officer in the army. his writings deserve to be collected. he was the early patron of dr robertson, the historian, and mr home, the tragick poet; who, when they we were ministers of country parishes, lived near his seat. he told me, 'i saw these lads had talents, and they were much with me.' i hope they will pay a grateful tribute to his memory. the morning was chiefly taken up by dr johnson's giving him an account of our tour. the subject of difference in political principles was introduced. johnson. 'it is much increased by opposition. there was a violent whig, with whom i used to contend with great eagerness. after his death i felt my toryism much abated.' i suppose he meant mr walmsley of lichfield, whose character he has drawn so well in his life of edmund smith. mr nairne came in, and he and i accompanied dr johnson to edinburgh castle, which he owned was 'a great place'. but i must mention, as a striking instance of that spirit of contradiction to which he had a strong propensity, when lord elibank was some days after talking of it with the natural elation of a scotchman, or of any man who is proud of a stately fortress in his own country, dr johnson affected to despise it, observing that, 'it would make a good prison in england'. lest it should be supposed that i have suppressed one of his sallies against my country, it may not be improper here to correct a mistaken account that has been circulated, as to his conversation this day. it has been said, that being desired to attend to the noble prospect from the castle hill, he replied, 'sir, the noblest prospect that a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to london.' this lively sarcasm was thrown out at a tavern in london, in my presence, many years before. we had with us to day at dinner, at my house, the lady dowager colvill, and lady anne erskine, sisters of the earl of kelly; the honourable archibald erskine, who has now succeeded to that title; lord elibank; the reverend dr blair; mr tytler, the acute vindicator of mary queen of scots, and some other friends. fingal being talked of, dr johnson, who used to boast that he had, from the first, resisted both ossian and the giants of patagonia, averred his positive disbelief of its authenticity. lord elibank said, 'i am sure it is not mcpherson's. mr johnson, i keep company a great deal with you; it is known i do. i may borrow from you better things than i can say myself, and give them as my own; but, if i should, every body will know whose they are.' the doctor was not softened by this compliment. he denied merit to fingal, supposing it to be the production of a man who has had the advantages that the present age affords; and said, 'nothing is more easy than to write enough in that style if once you begin'. [footnote: i desire not to be understood as agreeing entirely with the opinions of dr johnson, which i relate without any remark. the many imitations, however, of fingal, that have been published, confirm this observation in a considerable degree.] one gentleman in company expressing his opinion 'that fingal was certainly genuine, for that he had heard a great part of it repeated in the original', dr johnson indignantly asked him, whether he understood the original; to which an answer being given in the negative, 'why then,' said dr johnson, 'we see to what this testimony comes: thus it is.' i mentioned this as a remarkable proof how liable the mind of man is to credulity, when not guarded by such strict examination as that which dr johnson habitually practised. the talents and integrity of the gentleman who made the remark, are unquestionable; yet, had not dr johnson made him advert to the consideration, that he who does not understand a language, cannot know that something which is recited to him is in that language, he might have believed, and reported to this hour, that he had 'heard a great part of fingal repeated in the original'. for the satisfaction of those on the north of the tweed, who may think dr johnson's account of caledonian credulity and inaccuracy too strong, it is but fair to add, that he admitted the same kind of ready belief might be found in his own country. 'he would undertake,' he said, 'to write an epick poem on the story of robin hood, and half england, to whom the names and places he should mention in it are familiar, would believe and declare they had heard it from their earliest years.' one of his objections to the authenticity of fingal, during the conversation at ulinish, is omitted in my journal, but i perfectly recollect it. 'why is not the original deposited in some publick library, instead of exhibiting attestations of its existence? suppose there were a question in a court of justice, whether a man be dead or alive. you aver he is alive, and you bring fifty witnesses to swear it: i answer, "why do you not produce the man "' this is an argument founded on one of the first principles of the law of evidence, which gilbert would have held to be irrefragable. i do not think it incumbent on me to give any precise decided opinion upon this question, as to which i believe more than some, and less than others. the subject appears to have now become very uninteresting to the publick. that fingal is not from beginning to end a translation from the gallick, but that some passages have been supplied by the editor to connect the whole, i have heard admitted by very warm advocates for its authenticity. if this be the case, why are not these distinctly ascertained? antiquaries, and admirers of the work, may complain, that they are in a situation similar to that of the unhappy gentleman whose wife informed him, on her death-bed, that one of their reputed children was not his; and, when he eagerly begged her to declare which of them it was, she answered, 'that you shall never know', and expired, leaving him in irremediable doubt as to them all. i beg leave to say something upon second sight, of which i have related two instances, as they impressed my mind at the time. i own, i returned from the hebrides with a considerable degree of faith in the many stories of that kind which i heard with a too easy acquiescence, without any clear examination of the evidence: but, since that time, my belief in those stories has been much weakened, by reflecting on the careless inaccuracy of narrative in common matters, from which we may certainly conclude that these may be the same in what is more extraordinary. it is but just, however, to add, that the belief in second sight is not peculiar to the highlands and isles. some years after our tour, a cause was tried in the court of session where the principal fact to be ascertained was, whether a ship-master, who used to frequent the western highlands and isles, was drowned in one particular year, or in the year after. a great number of witnesses from the parts were examined on each side, and swore directly contrary to each other upon this simple question. one of them, a very respectable chieftain, who told me a story of second sight, which i have not mentioned, but which i too implicitly believed, had in this case, previous to this publick examination, not only said, but attested under his hand, that he had seen the ship-master in the year subsequent to that in which the court was finally satisfied he was drowned. when interrogated with the strictness of judicial inquiry, and under the awe of an oath, he recollected himself better, and retracted what he had formerly asserted, apologizing for his inaccuracy, by telling the judge 'a man will say what he will not swear.' by many he was much censured and it was maintained that every gentleman would be as attentive to truth without the sanction of an oath, as with it. dr johnson, though he himself was distinguished at all times by a scrupulous adherence to truth, controverted this proposition; and, as a proof that this was not, though it ought to be, the case, urged the very different decisions of elections under mr greville's act, from those formerly made. 'gentlemen will not pronounce upon oath, what they would have said, and voted in the house without the sanction.' however difficult it may be for men who believe in preternatural communications, in modern times, to falsify those who are of a different opinion, they may easily refute the doctrine of their opponents, who impute a belief in second sight to superstition. to entertain a visionary notion that one sees a distant or future event, may be called superstition; but the correspondence of the fact or event with such an impression on the fancy, though certainly very wonderful, if proved, has no more connection with superstition, than magnetism or electricity. after dinner, various topicks were discussed; but i recollect only one particular. dr johnson compared the different talents of garrick and foote, as companions, and gave garrick greatly the preference for elegance, though he allowed foote extraordinary powers of entertainment. he said, 'garrick is restrained by some principle; but foote has the advantage of an unlimited range. garrick has some delicacy of feeling; it is possible to put him out; you may get the better of him; but foote is the most incompressible fellow that i ever knew: when you have driven him into a corner, and think you are sure of him, he runs through between your legs, or jumps over your head, and makes his escape.' dr erskine and mr robert walker, two very respectable ministers of edinburgh, supped with us, as did the reverend dr webster. the conversation turned on the moravian missions, and on the methodists. dr johnson observed in general, that missionaries were too sanguine in their accounts of their success among savages, and that much of what they tell is not to be believed. he owned that the methodists had done good; had spread religious impressions among the vulgar part of mankind: but, he said, they had great bitterness against other christians, and that he never could get a methodist to explain in what he excelled others; that it always ended in the indispensible necessity of hearing one of their preachers. thursday, th november principal robertson came to us as we sat at breakfast; he advanced to dr johnson, repeating a line of virgil, which i forget. i suppose, either post varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum, [footnote: through various hazards and events we move.] or ... multum ille et terris jactatus, et alto. [footnote: long labours both by sea and land he bore. dryden.] every body had accosted us with some studied compliment on our return. dr johnson said, 'i am really ashamed of the congratulations which we receive. we are addressed as if we had made a voyage to nova zembla, and suffered five persecutions in japan.' and he afterwards remarked, that, 'to see a man come up with a formal air, and a latin line, when we had no fatigue and no danger, was provoking.' i told him, he was not sensible of the danger, having lain under cover in the boat during the storm: he was like the chicken, that hides its head under its wing, and then thinks itself safe. lord elibank came to us, as did sir william forbes. the rash attempt in being mentioned, i observed, that it would make a fine piece of history. dr johnson said it would. lord elibank doubted whether any man of this age could give it impartially. johnson. 'a man, by talking with those of different sides, who were actors in it, and putting down all that he hears, may in time collect the materials of a good narrative. you are to consider, all history was at first oral. i suppose voltaire was fifty years in collecting his louis xiv which he did in the way that i am proposing.' robertson. 'he did so. he lived much with all the great people who were concerned in that reign, and heard them talk of every thing: and then either took mr boswell's way, of writing down what he heard, or, which is as good, preserved it in his memory; for he has a wonderful memory.' with the leave, however, of this elegant historian, no man's memory can preserve facts or sayings with such fidelity as may be done by writing them down when they are recent. dr robertson said, 'it was now full time to make such a collection as dr johnson suggested; for many of the people who were then in arms, were dropping off; and both whigs and jacobites were now come to talk with moderation.' lord elibank said to him, 'mr robertson, the first thing that gave me a high opinion of you, was your saying in the select society, [footnote: a society for debate in edinburgh, consisting of the most eminent men.] while parties ran high, soon after the year , that you did not think worse of a man's moral character for his having been in rebellion. this was venturing to utter a liberal sentiment, while both sides had a detestation of each other.' dr johnson observed, that being in rebellion from a notion of another's right, was not connected with depravity; and that we had this proof of it, that all mankind applauded the pardoning of rebels; which they would not do in the case of robbers and murderers. he said, with a smile, that 'he wondered that the phrase of unnatural rebellion should be so much used, for that all rebellion was natural to man'. as i kept no journal of any thing that passed after this morning, i shall, from memory, group together this and the other days, till that on which dr johnson departed for london. they were in all nine days; on which he dined at lady colvill's, lord hailes's, sir adolphus oughton's, sir alexander dick's, principal robertson's, mr mclaurin's, and thrice at lord elibank's seat in the country, where we also passed two nights. he supped at the honourable alexander gordon's, now one of our judges, by the title of lord rockville; at mr nairne's, now also one of our judges, by the title of lord dunsinan; at dr blair's, and mr tytler's; and at my house thrice, one evening with a numerous company, chiefly gentlemen of the law; another with mr menzies of culdares, and lord monboddo, who disengaged himself on purpose to meet him; and the evening on which we returned from lord elibank's, he supped with my wife and me by ourselves. he breakfasted at dr webster's, at old mr drummond's, and at dr blacklock's; and spent one forenoon at my uncle dr boswell's, who shewed him his curious museum; and, as he was an elegant scholar, and a physician bred in the school of boerhaave, dr johnson was pleased with his company. on the mornings when he breakfasted at my house, he had, from ten o'clock till one or two, a constant levee of various persons, of very different characters and descriptions. i could not attend him, being obliged to be in the court of session; but my wife was so good as to devote the greater part of the morning to the endless task of pouring out tea for my friend and his visitors. such was the disposition of his time at edinburgh. he said one evening to me, in a fit of langour, 'sir, we have been harrassed by invitations.' i acquiesced. 'ay, sir,' he replied; 'but how much worse would it have been, if we had been neglected?' from what has been recorded in this journal, it may well be supposed that a variety of admirable conversation has been lost, by my neglect to preserve it. i shall endeavour to recollect some of it, as well as i can. at lady colvill's, to whom i am proud to introduce any stranger of eminence, that he may see what dignity and grace is to be found in scotland, an officer observed, that he had heard lord mansfield was not a great english lawyer. johnson. 'why, sir, supposing lord mansfield not to have the splendid talents which he possesses, he must be a great english lawyer, from having been so long at the bar, and having passed through so many of the great offices of the law. sir, you may as well maintain that a carrier, who has driven a packhorse between edinburgh and berwick for thirty years, does not know the road, as that lord mansfield does not know the law of england.' at mr nairne's, he drew the character of richardson, the author of clarissa, with a strong yet delicate pencil. i lament much that i have not preserved it: i only remember that he expressed a high opinion of his talents and virtues; but observed, that 'his perpetual study was to ward off petty inconveniencies, and procure petty pleasures; that his love of continual superiority was such, that he took care to be always surrounded by women, who listened to him implicitly, and did not venture to controvert his opinions; and that his desire of distinction was so great, that he used to give large vails to the speaker onslow's servants, that they might treat him with respect'. on the same evening, he would not allow that the private life of a judge, in england, was required to be so strictly decorous as i supposed. 'why then, sir,' said i, 'according to your account, an english judge may just live like a gentleman.' johnson. 'yes, sir--if he can.' at mr tytler's, i happened to tell that one evening, a great many years ago, when dr hugh blair and i were sitting together in the pit of drury-lane play-house, in a wild freak of youthful extravagance, i entertained the audience prodigiously, by imitating the lowing of a cow. a little while after i had told this story, i differed from dr johnson, i suppose too confidently, upon some point, which i now forget. he did not spare me. 'nay, sir,' said he, 'if you cannot talk better as a man, i'd have you bellow like a cow.' [footnote: as i have been scrupulously exact in relating anecdotes concerning other persons, i shall not withhold any part of this story, however ludicrous.--i was so successful in this boyish frolick, that the universal cry of the galleries was, 'encore the cow! encore the cow!' in the pride of my heart, i attempted imitations of some other animals, but with very inferior effect. my reverend friend, anxious for my fame, with an air of the utmost gravity and earnestness, addressed me thus: 'my dear sir, i would confine myself to the cow!'] at dr webster's, he said, that he believed hardly any man died without affectation. this remark appears to me to be well founded, and will account for many of the celebrated death-bed sayings which are recorded. on one of the evenings at my house, when he told that lord lovat boasted to an english nobleman, that though he had not his wealth, he had two thousand men whom he could at any time call into the field, the honourable alexander gordon observed, that those two thousand men brought him to the block. 'true, sir,' said dr johnson: 'but you may just as well argue, concerning a man who has fallen over a precipice to which he has walked too near, "his two legs brought him to that"--is he not the better for having two legs?' at dr blair's i left him, in order to attend a consultation, during which he and his amiable host were by themselves. i returned to supper, at which were principal robertson, mr nairne, and some other gentlemen. dr robertson and dr blair, i remember, talked well upon subordination and government; and, as my friend and i were walking home, he said to me, 'sir, these two doctors are good men, and wise men.' i begged of dr blair to recollect what he could of the long conversation that passed between dr johnson and him alone, this evening, and he obligingly wrote to me as follows: march , . dear sir, ... as so many years have intervened, since i chanced to have that conversation with dr johnson in my house, to which you refer, i have forgotten most of what then passed, but remember that i was both instructed and entertained by it. among other subjects, the discourse happening to turn on modern latin poets, the dr expressed a very favourable opinion of buchanan, and instantly repeated, from beginning to end, an ode of his, intituled calendae maiae (the eleventh in his miscellaneorum liber), beginning with these words, salvete sacris deliciis sacrae, with which i had formerly been unacquainted; but upon perusing it, the praise which he bestowed upon it, as one of the happiest of buchanan's poetical compositions, appeared to me very just. he also repeated to me a latin ode he had composed in one of the western islands, from which he had lately returned. we had much discourse concerning his excursion to those islands, with which he expressed himself as having been highly pleased; talked in a favourable manner of the hospitality of the inhabitants; and particularly spoke much of his happiness in having you for his companion; and said, that the longer he knew you, he loved and esteemed you the more. this conversation passed in the interval between tea and supper, when we were by ourselves. you, and the rest of the company who were with us at supper, have often taken notice that he was uncommonly bland and gay that evening, and gave much pleasure to all who were present. this is all that i can recollect distinctly of that long conversation. yours sincerely, hugh blair. at lord hailes's, we spent a most agreeable day; but again i must lament that i was so indolent as to let almost all that passed evaporate into oblivion. dr johnson observed there, that 'it is wonderful how ignorant many officers of the army are, considering how much leisure they have for study, and the acquisition of knowledge.' i hope he was mistaken; for he maintained that many of them were ignorant of things belonging immediately to their own profession; 'for instance, many cannot tell how far a musket will carry a bullet;' in proof of which, i suppose, he mentioned some particular person, for lord hailes, from whom i solicited what he could recollect of that day, writes to me as follows: as to dr johnson's observation about the ignorance of officers, in the length that a musket will carry, my brother, colonel dalrymple, was present, and he thought that the doctor was either mistaken, by putting the question wrong, or that he had conversed on the subject with some person out of service. was it upon that occasion that he expressed no curiosity to see the room at dumfermline, where charles i was born? 'i know that he was born,' said he; 'no matter where.' did he envy us the birth-place of the king?] near the end of his journey, dr johnson has given liberal praise to mr braidwood's academy for the deaf and dumb. when he visited it, a circumstance occurred which was truly characteristical of our great lexicographer. 'pray,' said he, 'can they pronounce any long words?' mr braidwood informed him they could. upon which dr johnson wrote one of his sequipedalia verba, which was pronounced by the scholars, and he was satisfied. my readers may perhaps wish to know what the word was; but i cannot gratify their curiosity. mr braidwood told me, it remained long in his school, but had been lost before i made my inquiry. [footnote: one of the best criticks of our age 'does not wish to prevent the admirers of the incorrect and nerveless style which generally prevailed for a century before dr johnson's energetick writings were known, from enjoying the laugh that this story may produce, in which he is very ready to join them'. he, however, requests me to observe, that 'my friend very properly chose a long word on this occasion, not, it is believed, from any predilection for polysyllables (though he certainly had a due respect for them), but in order to put mr braidwood's skill to the strictest test, and to try the efficacy of his instruction by the most difficult exertion of the organs of his pupils'.] dr johnson one day visited the court of session. he thought the mode of pleading there too vehement, and too much addressed to the passions of the judges. 'this,' said he, 'is not the areopagus.' at old mr drummond's, sir john dalrymple quaintly said, the two noblest animals in the world were, a scotch highlander and an english sailor. 'why, sir,' said dr johnson, 'i shall say nothing as to the scotch highlander; but as to the english sailor, i cannot agree with you.' sir john said, he was generous in giving away his money. johnson. 'sir, he throws away his money, without thought, and without merit. i do not call a tree generous, that sheds its fruit at every breeze.' sir john having affected to complain of the attacks made upon his memoirs, dr johnson said, 'nay, sir, do not complain. it is advantageous to an authour, that his book should be attacked as well as praised. fame is a shuttlecock. if it be struck only at one end of the room, it will soon fall to the ground. to keep it up, it must be struck at both ends.' often have i reflected on this since; and, instead of being angry at many of those who have written against me, have smiled to think that they were unintentionally subservient to my fame, by using a battledoor to make me virum volitare per ora. at sir alexander dick's, from that absence of mind to which every man is at times subject, i told, in a blundering manner, lady eglingtoune's complimentary adoption of dr johnson as her son; for i unfortunately stated that her ladyship adopted him as her son, in consequence of her having been married the year after he was born. dr johnson instantly corrected me. 'sir, don't you perceive that you are defaming the countess? for, supposing me to be her son, and that she was not married till the year after my birth, i must have been her natural son.' a young lady of quality, who was present, very handsomely said, 'might not the son have justified the faults?' my friend was much flattered by this compliment, which he never forgot. when in more than ordinary spirits, and talking of his journey in scotland, he has called to me, 'boswell, what was it that the young lady of quality said of me at sir alexander dick's?' nobody will doubt that i was happy in repeating it. my illustrious friend, being now desirous to be again in the great theatre of life and animated exertion, took a place in the coach, which was to set out for london on monday the d of november. sir john dalrymple pressed him to come on the saturday before, to his house at cranston, which being twelve miles from edinburgh, upon the middle road to newcastle (dr johnson had come to edinburgh by berwick, and along the naked coast), it would make his journey easier, as the coach would take him up at a more reasonable hour than that at which it sets out. sir john, i perceived, was ambitious of having such a guest; but, as i was well assured, that at this very time he had joined with some of his prejudiced countrymen in railing at dr johnson, and had said, he wondered how any gentleman of scotland could keep company with him, i thought he did not deserve the honour: yet, as it might be a convenience to dr johnson, i contrived that he should accept the invitation, and engaged to conduct him. i resolved that, on our way to sir john's, we should make a little circuit by roslin castle, and hawthornden, and wished to set out soon after breakfast; but young mr tytler came to shew dr johnson some essays which he had written; and my great friend, who was exceedingly obliging when thus consulted, was detained so long that it was, i believe, one o'clock before we got into our post-chaise. i found that we should be too late for dinner at sir john dalrymple's, to which we were engaged: but i would by no means lose the pleasure of seeing my friend at hawthornden, of seeing sam johnson at the very spot where ben johnson visited the learned and poetical drummond. we surveyed roslin castle, the romantick scene around it, and the beautiful gothick chapel, and dined and drank tea at the inn; after which we proceeded to hawthornden, and viewed the caves; and i all the while had rare ben in my mind, and was pleased to think that this place was now visited by another celebrated wit of england. by this time 'the waning night was growing old', and we were yet several miles from sir john dalrymple's. dr johnson did not seem much troubled at our having treated the baronet with so little attention to politeness; but when i talked of the grievous disappointment it must have been to him that we did not come to the feast that he had prepared for us (for he told us he had killed a seven-year-old sheep on purpose), my friend got into a merry mood, and jocularly said, 'i dare say, sir, he has been very sadly distressed. nay, we do not know but the consequence may have been fatal. let me try to describe his situation in his own historical style. i have as good a right to make him think and talk, as he has to tell us how people thought and talked a hundred years ago, of which he has no evidence. all history, so far as it is not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance ... stay now... let us consider!' he then (heartily laughing all the while) proceeded in his imitation, i am sure to the following effect, though now, at the distance of almost twelve years, i cannot pretend to recollect all the precise words: 'dinner being ready, he wondered that his guests were not yet come. his wonder was soon succeeded by impatience. he walked about the room in anxious agitation; sometimes he looked at his watch, sometimes he looked out at the window with an eager gaze of expectation, and revolved in his mind the various accidents of human life. his family beheld him with mute concern. "surely," said he, with a sigh, "they will not fail me." the mind of man can bear a certain pressure; but there is a point when it can bear no more. a rope was in his view, and he died a roman death.' [footnote: 'essex was at that time confined to the same chamber of the tower from which his father lord capel had been led to death, and in which his wife's grandfather had inflicted a voluntary death upon himself. when he saw his friend carried to what he reckoned certain fate, their common enemies enjoying the spectacle, and reflected that it was he who had forced lord howard upon the confidence of russel, he retired, and, by a roman death, put an end to his misery.' dalrymple's memoirs of great britain and ireland. vol. i p. .] it was very late before we reached the seat of sir john dalrymple, who, certainly with some reason was not in very good humour. our conversation was not brilliant. we supped, and went to bed in ancient rooms, which would have better suited the climate of italy in summer, than that of scotland in the month of november. i recollect no conversation of the next day, worth preserving, except one saying of dr johnson, which will be a valuable text for many decent old dowagers, and other good company, in various circles to descant upon. he said, 'i am sorry i have not learnt to play at cards. it is very useful in life: it generates kindness, and consolidates society.' he certainly could not mean deep play. my friend and i thought we should be more comfortable at the inn at blackflelds, two miles farther on. we therefore went thither in the evening, and he was very entertaining; but i have preserved nothing but the pleasing remembrance, and his verses on george the second and cibber, and his epitaph on parnell, which he was then so good as to dictate to me. we breakfasted together next morning, and then the coach came, and took him up. he had, as one of his companions in it, as far as newcastle, the worthy and ingenious dr hope, botanical professor at edinburgh. both dr johnson and he used to speak of their good fortune in thus accidentally meeting; for they had much instructive conversation, which is always a most valuable enjoyment, and, when found where it is not expected, is peculiarly relished. i have now completed my account of our tour to the hebrides. i have brought dr johnson down to scotland, and seen him into the coach which in a few hours carried him back into england. he said to me often, that the time he spent in this tour was the pleasantest part of his life, and asked me if i would lose the recollection of it for five hundred pounds. i answered i would not; and he applauded my setting such a value on an accession of new images in my mind. had it not been for me, i am persuaded dr johnson never would have undertaken such a journey; and i must be allowed to assume some merit from having been the cause that our language has been enriched with such a book as that which he published on his return; a book which i never read but with the utmost admiration, as i had such opportunities of knowing from what very meagre materials it was composed. the end proofreading team. boswell's life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford in six volumes volume v. tour to the hebrides ( ) and journey into north wales ( ) the journal of a tour to the _hebrides_, with samuel johnson, ll.d. by _james boswell_, esq. containing some poetical pieces by dr. johnson, relative to the tour, and never before published; a series of his conversation, literary anecdotes, and opinions of men and books: with an authentick account of the distresses and escape of the grandson of king james ii. in the year . _the third edition, revised and corrected._ * * * * * o! while along the stream of time, thy name expanded flies, and gathers all its fame, say, shall my little bark attendant fail, pursue the triumph and partake the gale? pope. * * * * * _london:_ printed by henry baldwin, for charles dilly, in the poultry. mdcclxxxvi. contents of vol. v. journal of a tour to the hebrides with samuel johnson, ll.d.: dedication to edmond malone, esq. advertisement to the third edition contents journal appendices: i. letter from dr. blacklock ii. verses by sir alexander macdonald advertisement of the life a. extracts from warburton b. lord houghton's translation of johnson's ode written in sky c. johnson's use of the word _big_ a journey into north wales in the year dedication. _to edmond malone, esq._ my dear sir, in every narrative, whether historical or biographical, authenticity is of the utmost consequence[ ]. of this i have ever been so firmly persuaded, that i inscribed a former work[ ] to that person who was the best judge of its truth. i need not tell you i mean general paoli; who, after his great, though unsuccessful, efforts to preserve the liberties of his country, has found an honourable asylum in britain, where he has now lived many years the object of royal regard and private respect[ ]; and whom i cannot name without expressing my very grateful sense of the uniform kindness which he has been pleased to shew me[ ]. the friends of doctor johnson can best judge, from internal evidence, whether the numerous conversations which form the most valuable part of the ensuing pages are correctly related. to them, therefore, i wish to appeal, for the accuracy of the portrait here exhibited to the world. as one of those who were intimately acquainted with him, you have a title to this address. you have obligingly taken the trouble to peruse the original manuscript of this tour, and can vouch for the strict fidelity of the present publication[ ]. your literary alliance with our much lamented friend, in consequence of having undertaken to render one of his labours more complete, by your edition of _shakspeare_[ ], a work which i am confident will not disappoint the expectations of the publick, gives you another claim. but i have a still more powerful inducement to prefix your name to this volume, as it gives me an opportunity of letting the world know that i enjoy the honour and happiness of your friendship; and of thus publickly testifying the sincere regard with which i am, my dear sir, your very faithful and obedient servant, james boswell. london, th september, . advertisement to the _third edition._ animated by the very favourable reception which two large impressions of this work have had[ ], it has been my study to make it as perfect as i could in this edition, by correcting some inaccuracies which i discovered myself, and some which the kindness of friends or the scrutiny of adversaries pointed out. a few notes are added, of which the principal object is, to refute misrepresentation and calumny. to the animadversions in the periodical journals of criticism, and in the numerous publications to which my book has given rise, i have made no answer. every work must stand or fall by its own merit. i cannot, however, omit this opportunity of returning thanks to a gentleman who published a defence of my journal, and has added to the favour by communicating his name to me in a very obliging letter. it would be an idle waste of time to take any particular notice of the futile remarks, to many of which, a petty national resentment, unworthy of my countrymen, has probably given rise; remarks which have been industriously circulated in the publick prints by shallow or envious cavillers, who have endeavoured to persuade the world that dr. johnson's character has been _lessened_ by recording such various instances of his lively wit and acute judgment, on every topick that was presented to his mind. in the opinion of every person of taste and knowledge that i have conversed with, it has been greatly _heightened_; and i will venture to predict, that this specimen of the colloquial talents and extemporaneous effusions of my illustrious fellow-traveller will become still more valuable, when, by the lapse of time, he shall have become an _ancient_; when all those who can now bear testimony to the transcendent powers of his mind, shall have passed away; and no other memorial of this great and good man shall remain but the following journal, the other anecdotes and letters preserved by his friends, and those incomparable works, which have for many years been in the highest estimation, and will be read and admired as long as the english language shall be spoken or understood. j.b. london, th aug. . contents. dedication. advertisement. introduction. character of dr. johnson. he arrives in scotland. _august _. sir william forbes. practice of the law. emigration. dr. beattie and mr. hume. dr. robertson. mr. burke's various and extraordinary talents. question concerning genius. whitfield and wesley. instructions to political parties. dr. johnson's opinion of garrick as a tragedian. _august _. ogden on prayer. aphoristick writing. edinburgh surveyed. character of swift's works. evil spirits and witchcraft. lord monboddo and the ouran-outang. _august _. poetry and dictionary writing. scepticism. eternal necessity refuted. lord hailes's criticism on _the vanity of human wishes._ mr. maclaurin. decision of the judges in scotland on literary property. _august _. set out for the hebrides. sketch of the authour's character. trade of glasgow. suicide. inchkeith. parliamentary knowledge. influence of peers. popular clamours. arrive at st. andrews. _august _. dr. watson. literature and patronage. writing and conversation compared. change of manners. the union. value of money. st. andrews and john knox. retirement from the world. dinner with the professors. question concerning sorrow and content. instructions for composition. dr. johnson's method. uncertainty of memory. _august _. effect of prayer. observance of sunday. professor shaw. transubstantiation. literary property. mr. tyers's remark on dr. johnson. arrive at montrose. _august _. want of trees. laurence kirk. dinner at monboddo. emigration. homer. biography and history compared. decrease of learning. causes of it. promotion of bishops. warburton. lowth. value of politeness. dr. johnson's sentiments concerning lord monboddo. arrive at aberdeen. _august _. professor thomas gordon. publick and private education. sir alexander gordon. trade of aberdeen. prescription of murder in scotland. mystery of the trinity. satisfaction of christ. importance of old friendships. _august _. dr. johnson made a burgess of aberdeen. dinner at sir alexander gordon's. warburton's powers of invective. his _doctrine of grace_. lock's verses. fingal. _august _. goldsmith and graham. slains castle. education of children. buller of buchan. entails. consequence of peers. sir joshua reynolds. earl of errol. _august _. the advantage of being on good terms with relations. nabobs. feudal state of subordination. dinner at strichen. life of country gentlemen. the literary club. _august _. lord monboddo. use and importance of wealth. elgin. macbeth's heath. fores. _august _. leonidas. paul whitehead. derrick. origin of evil. calder-manse. reasonableness of ecclesiastical subscription. family worship. _august _. fort george. sir adolphus oughton. contest between warburton and lowth. dinner at sir eyre coote's. arabs and english soldiers compared. the stage. mr. garrick, mrs. cibber, mrs. pritchard, mrs. clive. inverness. _august _. macbeth's castle. incorrectness of writers of travels. coinage of new words. dr. johnson's _dictionary_. _august _. dr. johnson on horseback. a highland hut. fort augustus. governour trapaud. _august _. anoch. emigration. goldsmith. poets and soldiers compared. life of a sailor. landlord's daughter at anoch. _september _. glensheal. the macraas. dr. johnson's anger at being left for a little while by the authour on a wild plain. wretched inn at glenelg. _september _. dr. johnson relents. isle of sky. armidale. _september _. colonel montgomery, now earl of eglintoune. _september _. ancient highland enthusiasm. _september _. sir james macdonald's epitaph and last letters to his mother. dr. johnson's latin ode on the isle of sky. isaac hawkins browne. _september _. corrichatachin. highland hospitality and mirth. dr. johnson's latin ode to mrs. thrale. _september _. uneasy state of dependence on the weather. state of those who live in the country. dr. m'pherson's dissertations. second sight. _september _. rev. mr. donald m'queen. mr. malcolm m'cleod. sail to rasay. fingal. homer. elegant and gay entertainment at rasay. _september _. antiquity of the family of rasay. cure of infidelity. _september _. survey of the island of rasay. bentley. mallet. hooke. duchess of marlborough. _september _. heritable jurisdictions. insular life. the laird of m'cleod. _september _. sail to portree. dr. johnson's discourse on death. letters from lord elibank to dr. johnson and the authour. dr. johnson's answer. ride to kingsburgh. flora m'donald. _september _. distresses and escape of the grandson of king james ii. arrive at dunvegan. _september _. importance of the chastity of women. dr. cadogan. whether the practice of authours is necessary to enforce their doctrines. good humour acquirable. _september _. sir george m'kenzie. mr. burke's wit, knowledge and eloquence. _september _. dr. johnson's hereditary melancholy. his minute knowledge in various arts. apology for the authour's ardour in his pursuits. dr. johnson's imaginary seraglio. polygamy. _september _. cunning. whether great abilities are necessary to be wicked. temple of the goddess anaitis. family portraits. records not consulted by old english historians. mr. pennant's tours criticised. _september _. ancient residence of a highland chief. languages the pedigree of nations. laird of the isle of muck. _september _. choice of a wife. women an over-match for men. lady grange in st. kilda. poetry of savages. french literati. prize-fighting. french and english soldiers. duelling. _september _. change of london manners. laziness censured. landed and traded interest compared. gratitude considered. _september _. description of dunvegan. lord lovat's pyramid. ride to ulinish. phipps's voyage to the north pole. _september _. subterraneous house and vast cave in ulinish. swift's lord orrery. defects as well as virtues the proper subject of biography, though the life be written by a friend. studied conclusions of letters. whether allowable in dying men to maintain resentment to the last. instructions for writing the lives of literary men. fingal denied to be genuine, and pleasantly ridiculed. _september _. further disquisition concerning fingal. eminent men disconcerted by a new mode of publick appearance. garrick. mrs. montague's essay on shakspeare. persons of consequence watched in london. learning of the scots from to . the arts of civil life little known in scotland till the union. life of a sailor. the folly of peter the great in working in a dock-yard. arrive at talisker. presbyterian clergy deficient in learning. _september _. french hunting. young col. dr. birch, dr. percy. lord hailes. historical impartiality. whiggism unbecoming in a clergyman. _september _. every island a prison. a sky cottage. return to corrichatachin. good fellowship carried to excess. _september _. morning review of last night's intemperance. old kingsburgh's jacobite song. lady margaret macdonald adored in sky. different views of the same subject at different times. self-deception. _september _. dr. johnson's popularity in the isle of sky. his good-humoured gaiety with a highland lady. _september _. ancient irish pride of family. dr. johnson on threshing and thatching. dangerous to increase the price of labour. arrive at ostig. dr. m'pherson's latin poetry. _september _. reverend mr. m'pherson, shenstone. hammond. sir charles hanbury williams. _september _. mr. burke the first man every where. very moderate talents requisite to make a figure in the house of commons. dr. young. dr. doddridge. increase of infidel writings since the accession of the hanover family. gradual impression made by dr. johnson. particular minutes to be kept of our studies. _october _. dr. johnson not answerable for all the words in his _dictionary_. attacks on authours useful to them. return to armidale. _october _. old manners of great families in wales. german courts. goldsmith's love of talk. emigration. curious story of the people of st. kilda. _october _. epictetus on the voyage of death. sail for mull. a storm. driven into col. _october _. dr. johnson's mode of living in the temple. his curious appearance on a sheltie. nature of sea-sickness. burnet's _history of his own times_. difference between dedications and histories. _october _. people may come to do anything by talking of it. the reverend mr. hector maclean. bayle. leibnitz and clarke. survey of col. insular life. arrive at breacacha. dr. johnson's power of ridicule. _october _. heritable jurisdictions. the opinion of philosophers concerning happiness in a cottage, considered. advice to landlords. _october _. books the best solace in a state of confinement. _october _. pretended brother of dr. johnson. no redress for a man's name being affixed to a foolish work. lady sidney beauclerk. carte's _life of the duke of ormond_. col's cabinet. letters of the great montrose. present state of the island of col. _october _. dr. johnson's avidity for a variety of books. improbability of a highland tradition. dr. johnson's delicacy of feeling. _october _. dependence of tenants on landlords. _october _. london and pekin compared. dr. johnson's high opinion of the former. _october _. return to mr. m'sweyn's. other superstitions beside those connected with religion. dr. johnson disgusted with coarse manners. his peculiar habits. _october _. bustle not necessary to dispatch. _oats_ the food not of the scotch alone. _october _. arrive in mull. addison's _remarks on italy_. addison not much conversant with italian literature. the french masters of the art of accommodating literature. their _ana_. racine. corneille. moliere. fenelon. voltaire. bossuet. massillon. bourdaloue. virgil's description of the entrance into hell, compared to a printing-house. _october _. erse poetry. danger of a knowledge of musick. the propriety of settling our affairs so as to be always prepared for death. religion and literary attainments not to be described to young persons as too hard. reception of the travellers in their progress. spence. _october _. miss maclean. account of mull. the value of an oak walking-stick in the hebrides. arrive at mr. m'quarrie's in ulva. captain macleod. second sight. _mercheta mulierum_, and borough-english. the grounds on which the sale of an estate may be set aside in a court of equity. _october _. arrive at inchkenneth. sir allan maclean and his daughters. none but theological books should be read on sunday. dr. campbell. dr. johnson exhibited as a highlander. thoughts on drinking. dr. johnson's latin verses on inchkenneth. _october _. young col's various good qualities. no extraordinary talents requisite to success in trade. dr. solander. mr. burke. dr. johnson's intrepidity and presence of mind. singular custom in the islands of col and otaheité. further elogium on young col. credulity of a frenchman in foreign countries. _october _. death of young col. dr. johnson slow of belief without strong evidence. _la crédulité des incrédules_. coast of mull. nun's island. past scenes pleasing in recollection. land on icolmkill. _october _. sketch of the ruins of icolmkill. influence of solemn scenes of piety. feudal authority in the extreme. return to mull. _october _. pulteney. pitt. walpole. mr. wilkes. english and jewish history compared. scotland composed of stone and water, and a little earth. turkish spy. dreary ride to lochbuy. description of the laird. _october _. uncommon breakfast offered to dr. johnson, and rejected. lochbuy's war-saddle. sail to oban. _october _. goldsmith's _traveller_. pope and cowley compared. archibald duke of argyle. arrive at inverary. dr. johnson drinks some whisky, and assigns his reason. letter from the authour to mr. garrick. mr. garrick's answer. _october _. specimen of ogden on prayer. hervey's _meditations_. dr. johnson's meditation on a pudding. country neighbours. the authour's visit to the castle of inverary. perverse opposition to the influence of peers in ayrshire. _october _. dr. johnson presented to the duke of argyle. grandeur of his grace's seat. the authour possesses himself in an embarrassing situation. honourable archibald campbell on _a middle state_. the old lord townshend. question concerning luxury. nice trait of character. good principles and bad practice. _october _. a passage in home's _douglas_, and one in _juvenal_, compared. neglect of religious buildings in scotland. arrive at sir james colquhoun's. _october _. dr. johnson's letter to the duke of argyle. his grace's answer. lochlomond. dr. johnson's sentiments on dress. forms of prayer considered. arrive at mr. smollet's. _october _. dr. smollet's epitaph. dr. johnson's wonderful memory. his alacrity during the tour. arrive at glasgow. _october _. glasgow surveyed. attention of the professors to dr. johnson. _october _. dinner at the earl of loudoun's. character of that nobleman. arrive at treesbank. _october _. sir john cunningham of caprington. _november _. rules for the distribution of charity. castle of dundonald. countess of eglintoune. alexander earl of eglintoune. _november _. arrive at auchinleck. character of lord auchinleck, his idea of dr. johnson. _november _. dr. johnson's sentiments concerning the highlands. mr. harris of salisbury. _november _. auchinleck. cattle without horns. composure of mind how far attainable. _november _. dr. johnson's high respect for the english clergy. _november _. lord auchinleck and dr. johnson in collision. _november _. dr. johnson's uniform piety. his dislike of presbyterian worship. _november _. arrive at hamilton. _november _. the duke of hamilton's house. arrive at edinburgh. _november _. lord elibank. difference in political principles increased by opposition. edinburgh castle. fingal. english credulity not less than scottish. second sight. garrick and foote compared as companions. moravian missions and methodism. _november _. history originally oral. dr. robertson's liberality of sentiment. rebellion natural to man. * * * * * summary account of the manner in which dr. johnson spent his time from november to november . lord mansfield, mr. richardson. the private life of an english judge. dr. johnson's high opinion of dr. robertson and dr. blair. letter from dr. blair to the authour. officers of the army often ignorant of things belonging to their own profession. academy for the deaf and dumb. a scotch highlander and an english sailor. attacks on authours advantageous to them. roslin castle and hawthornden. dr. johnson's _parody of sir john dalrymple's memoirs_. arrive at cranston. dr. johnson's departure for london. letters from lord hailes and mr. dempster to the authour. letter from the laird of rasay to the authour. the authour's answer. dr. johnson's advertisement, acknowledging a mistake in his _journey to the western islands_. his letter to the laird of rasay. letter from sir william forbes to the authour. conclusion. he was of an admirable pregnancy of wit, and that pregnancy much improved by continual study from his childhood: by which he had gotten such a promptness in expressing his mind, that his extemporal speeches were little inferior to his premeditated writings. many, no doubt, had read as much, and perhaps more than he; but scarce ever any concocted his reading into judgement as he did[ ]. _baker's chronicle_ [ed. , p. ]. the journal of a tour to the hebrides with samuel johnson, ll.d. dr. johnson had for many years given me hopes that we should go together, and visit the hebrides[ ]. martin's account of those islands had impressed us with a notion that we might there contemplate a system of life almost totally different from what we had been accustomed to see; and, to find simplicity and wildness, and all the circumstances of remote time or place, so near to our native great island, was an object within the reach of reasonable curiosity. dr. johnson has said in his _journey_[ ] 'that he scarcely remembered how the wish to visit the hebrides was excited;' but he told me, in summer, [ ], that his father put martin's account into his hands when he was very young, and that he was much pleased with it. we reckoned there would be some inconveniencies and hardships, and perhaps a little danger; but these we were persuaded were magnified in the imagination of every body. when i was at ferney, in , i mentioned our design to voltaire. he looked at me, as if i had talked of going to the north pole, and said, 'you do not insist on my accompanying you?'--'no, sir,'--'then i am very willing you should go.' i was not afraid that our curious expedition would be prevented by such apprehensions; but i doubted that it would not be possible to prevail on dr. johnson to relinquish, for some time, the felicity of a london life, which, to a man who can enjoy it with full intellectual relish, is apt to make existence in any narrower sphere seem insipid or irksome. i doubted that he would not be willing to come down from his elevated state of philosophical dignity; from a superiority of wisdom among the wise, and of learning among the learned; and from flashing his wit upon minds bright enough to reflect it. he had disappointed my expectations so long, that i began to despair; but in spring, , he talked of coming to scotland that year with so much firmness, that i hoped he was at last in earnest. i knew that, if he were once launched from the metropolis he would go forward very well; and i got our common friends there to assist in setting him afloat. to mrs. thrale in particular, whose enchantment over him seldom failed, i was much obliged. it was, '_i'll give thee a wind._'-' _thou art kind._[ ]'--to _attract_ him, we had invitations from the chiefs macdonald and macleod; and, for additional aid, i wrote to lord elibank[ ], dr. william robertson, and dr. beattie. to dr. robertson, so far as my letter concerned the present subject, i wrote as follows: 'our friend, mr. samuel johnson, is in great health and spirits; and, i do think, has a serious resolution to visit scotland this year. the more attraction, however, the better; and therefore, though i know he will be happy to meet you there, it will forward the scheme, if, in your answer to this, you express yourself concerning it with that power of which you are so happily possessed, and which may be so directed as to operate strongly upon him.' his answer to that part of my letter was quite as i could have wished. it was written with the address and persuasion of the historian of america. 'when i saw you last, you gave us some hopes that you might prevail with mr. johnson to make out that excursion to scotland, with the expectation of which we have long flattered ourselves. if he could order matters so, as to pass some time in edinburgh, about the close of the summer session, and then visit some of the highland scenes, i am confident he would be pleased with the grand features of nature in many parts of this country: he will meet with many persons here who respect him, and some whom i am persuaded he will think not unworthy of his esteem. i wish he would make the experiment. he sometimes cracks his jokes upon us; but he will find that we can distinguish between the stabs of malevolence, and _the rebukes of the righteous, which are like excellent oil[ ], and break not the head[ ]_. offer my best compliments to him, and assure him that i shall be happy to have the satisfaction of seeing him under my roof. to dr. beattie i wrote, 'the chief intention of this letter is to inform you, that i now seriously believe mr. samuel johnson will visit scotland this year: but i wish that every power of attraction may be employed to secure our having so valuable an acquisition, and therefore i hope you will without delay write to me what i know you think, that i may read it to the mighty sage, with proper emphasis, before i leave london, which i must do soon. he talks of you with the same warmth that he did last year[ ]. we are to see as much of scotland as we can, in the months of august and september. we shall not be long of being at marischal college[ ]. he is particularly desirous of seeing some of the western islands.' dr. beattie did better: _ipse venit_. he was, however, so polite as to wave his privilege of _nil mihi rescribas[ ]_, and wrote from edinburgh, as follows:--'your very kind and agreeable favour of the th of april overtook me here yesterday, after having gone to aberdeen, which place i left about a week ago. i am to set out this day for london, and hope to have the honour of paying my respects to mr. johnson and you, about a week or ten days hence. i shall then do what i can, to enforce the topick you mention; but at present i cannot enter upon it, as i am in a very great hurry; for i intend to begin my journey within an hour or two.' he was as good as his word, and threw some pleasing motives into the northern scale. but, indeed, mr. johnson loved all that he heard, from one whom he tells us, in his _lives of the poets_, gray found 'a poet, a philosopher, and a good man[ ].' my lord elibank did not answer my letter to his lordship for some time. the reason will appear, when we come to the isle of _sky_[ ]. i shall then insert my letter, with letters from his lordship, both to myself and mr. johnson. i beg it may be understood, that i insert my own letters, as i relate my own sayings, rather as keys to what is valuable belonging to others, than for their own sake. luckily mr. justice (now sir robert) chambers[ ], who was about to sail for the east-indies, was going to take leave of his relations at newcastle, and he conducted dr. johnson to that town. mr. scott, of university college, oxford, (now dr. scott[ ], of the commons,) accompanied him from thence to edinburgh, with such propitious convoys did he proceed to my native city. but, lest metaphor should make it be supposed he actually went by sea, i choose to mention that he travelled in post-chaises, of which the rapid motion was one of his most favourite amusements[ ]. dr. samuel johnson's character, religious, moral, political, and literary, nay his figure and manner, are, i believe, more generally known than those of almost any man; yet it may not be superfluous here to attempt a sketch of him. let my readers then remember that he was a sincere and zealous christian, of high church of england and monarchical principles, which he would not tamely suffer to be questioned; steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligations of piety and virtue, both from a regard to the order of society, and from a veneration for the great source of all order; correct, nay stern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended, impetuous and irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolent heart; having a mind stored with a vast and various collection of learning and knowledge, which he communicated with peculiar perspicuity and force, in rich and choice expression. he united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination, which gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing; for he could reason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. he could, when he chose it, be the greatest sophist that ever wielded a weapon in the schools of declamation; but he indulged this only in conversation; for he owned he sometimes talked for victory[ ]; he was too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, by deliberately writing it. he was conscious of his superiority. he loved praise when it was brought to him; but was too proud to seek for it. he was somewhat susceptible of flattery[ ]. his mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually a poet. it has been often remarked, that in his poetical pieces, which it is to be regretted are so few, because so excellent, his style is easier than in his prose. there is deception in this: it is not easier, but better suited to the dignity of verse; as one may dance with grace, whose motions, in ordinary walking, in the common step, are awkward. he had a constitutional melancholy, the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a gloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: yet, though grave and awful in his deportment, when he thought it necessary or proper, he frequently indulged himself in pleasantry and sportive sallies. he was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. though his imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous and the mysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence with jealousy. he had a loud voice, and a slow deliberate utterance, which no doubt gave some additional weight to the sterling metal of his conversation[ ]. his person was large, robust, i may say approaching to the gigantick, and grown unwieldy from corpulency. his countenance was naturally of the cast of an ancient statue, but somewhat disfigured by the scars of that _evil_, which, it was formerly imagined, the _royal touch_[ ] could cure. he was now in his sixty-fourth year, and was become a little dull of hearing. his sight had always been somewhat weak; yet, so much does mind govern, and even supply the deficiency of organs, that his perceptions were uncommonly quick and accurate[ ]. his head, and sometimes also his body shook with a kind of motion like the effect of a palsy: he appeared to be frequently disturbed by cramps, or convulsive contractions[ ], of the nature of that distemper called _st. vitus's dance_. he wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, with twisted hair-buttons[ ] of the same colour, a large bushy greyish wig, a plain shirt, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles. upon this tour, when journeying, he wore boots, and a very wide brown cloth great coat, with pockets which might have almost held the two volumes of his folio _dictionary_; and he carried in his hand a large english oak stick. let me not be censured for mentioning such minute particulars. every thing relative to so great a man is worth observing. i remember dr. adam smith, in his rhetorical lectures at glasgow[ ], told us he was glad to know that milton wore latchets in his shoes, instead of buckles. when i mention the oak stick, it is but letting _hercules_ have his club; and, by-and-by, my readers will find this stick will bud, and produce a good joke[ ]. this imperfect sketch of 'the combination and the _form_[ ]' of that wonderful man, whom i venerated and loved while in this world, and after whom i gaze with humble hope, now that it has pleased almighty god to call him to a better world, will serve to introduce to the fancy of my readers the capital object of the following journal, in the course of which i trust they will attain to a considerable degree of acquaintance with him. his prejudice against scotland[ ] was announced almost as soon as he began to appear in the world of letters. in his _london_, a poem, are the following nervous lines:-- 'for who would leave, unbrib'd, hibernia's land? or change the rocks of scotland for the strand? there none are swept by sudden fate away; but all, whom hunger spares, with age decay.' the truth is, like the ancient greeks and romans, he allowed himself to look upon all nations but his own as barbarians[ ]: not only hibernia, and scotland, but spain, italy, and france, are attacked in the same poem. if he was particularly prejudiced against the scots, it was because they were more in his way; because he thought their success in england rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit; and because he could not but see in them that nationality which i believe no liberal-minded scotsman will deny. he was indeed, if i may be allowed the phrase, at bottom much of a _john bull_[ ]; much of a blunt _true born englishman_[ ]. there was a stratum of common clay under the rock of marble. he was voraciously fond of good eating[ ]; and he had a great deal of that quality called _humour_, which gives an oiliness and a gloss to every other quality. i am, i flatter myself, completely a citizen of the world.--in my travels through holland, germany, switzerland, italy, corsica, france, i never felt myself from home; and i sincerely love 'every kindred and tongue and people and nation[ ].' i subscribe to what my late truly learned and philosophical friend mr. crosbie[ ] said, that the english are better animals than the scots; they are nearer the sun; their blood is richer, and more mellow: but when i humour any of them in an outrageous contempt of scotland, i fairly own i treat them as children. and thus i have, at some moments, found myself obliged to treat even dr. johnson. to scotland however he ventured; and he returned from it in great good humour, with his prejudices much lessened, and with very grateful feelings of the hospitality with which he was treated; as is evident from that admirable work, his _journey to the western islands of scotland_, which, to my utter astonishment, has been misapprehended, even to rancour, by many of my countrymen. to have the company of chambers and scott, he delayed his journey so long, that the court of session, which rises on the eleventh of august, was broke up before he got to edinburgh[ ]. on saturday the fourteenth of august, , late in the evening, i received a note from him, that he was arrived at boyd's inn[ ], at the head of the canongate. i went to him directly. he embraced me cordially; and i exulted in the thought, that i now had him actually in caledonia. mr. scott's amiable manners, and attachment to our _socrates_, at once united me to him. he told me that, before i came in, the doctor had unluckily had a bad specimen of scottish cleanliness[ ]. he then drank no fermented liquor. he asked to have his lemonade made sweeter; upon which the waiter, with his greasy fingers, lifted a lump of sugar, and put it into it. the doctor, in indignation, threw it out of the window. scott said, he was afraid he would have knocked the waiter down. mr. johnson told me, that such another trick was played him at the house of a lady in paris[ ]. he was to do me the honour to lodge under my roof. i regretted sincerely that i had not also a room for mr. scott. mr. johnson and i walked arm-in-arm up the high=street, to my house in james's court[ ]: it was a dusky night: i could not prevent his being assailed by the evening effluvia of edinburgh. i heard a late baronet, of some distinction in the political world in the beginning of the present reign, observe, that 'walking the streets of edinburgh at night was pretty perilous, and a good deal odoriferous.' the peril is much abated, by the care which the magistrates have taken to enforce the city laws against throwing foul water from the windows[ ]; but from the structure of the houses in the old town, which consist of many stories, in each of which a different family lives, and there being no covered sewers, the ordour still continues. a zealous scotsman would have wished mr. johnson to be without one of his five senses upon this occasion. as we marched slowly along, he grumbled in my ear, 'i smell you in the dark[ ]!' but he acknowledged that the breadth of the street, and the loftiness of the buildings on each side made a noble appearance[ ]. my wife had tea ready for him, which it is well known he delighted to drink at all hours, particularly when sitting up late, and of which his able defence against mr. jonas hanway[ ] should have obtained him a magnificent reward from the east-india company. he shewed much complacency upon finding that the mistress of the house was so attentive to his singular habit; and as no man could be more polite when he chose to be so, his address to her was most courteous and engaging; and his conversation soon charmed her into a forgetfulness of his external appearance[ ]. i did not begin to keep a regular full journal till some days after we had set out from edinburgh; but i have luckily preserved a good many fragments of his _memorabilia_ from his very first evening in scotland. we had, a little before this, had a trial for murder, in which the judges had allowed the lapse of twenty years since its commission as a plea in bar, in conformity with the doctrine of prescription in the _civil_ law, which scotland and several other countries in europe have adopted. he at first disapproved of this; but then he thought there was something in it, if there had been for twenty years a neglect to prosecute a crime which was _known_. he would not allow that a murder, by not being _discovered_ for twenty years, should escape punishment[ ]. we talked of the ancient trial by duel. he did not think it so absurd as is generally supposed; 'for (said he) it was only allowed when the question was _in equilibrio_, as when one affirmed and another denied; and they had a notion that providence would interfere in favour of him who was in the right. but as it was found that in a duel, he who was in the right had not a better chance than he who was in the wrong, therefore society instituted the present mode of trial, and gave the advantage to him who is in the right.' we sat till near two in the morning, having chatted a good while after my wife left us. she had insisted, that to shew all respect to the sage she would give up her own bed-chamber to him and take a worse[ ]. this i cannot but gratefully mention, as one of a thousand obligations which i owe her, since the great obligation of her being pleased to accept of me as her husband[ ]. sunday, august [ ] mr. scott came to breakfast, at which i introduced to dr. johnson and him, my friend sir william forbes, now of pitsligo[ ]; a man of whom too much good cannot be said; who, with distinguished abilities and application in his profession of a banker, is at once a good companion, and a good christian; which i think is saying enough. yet it is but justice to record, that once, when he was in a dangerous illness, he was watched with the anxious apprehension of a general calamity; day and night his house was beset with affectionate enquiries; and, upon his recovery, _te deum_ was the universal chorus from the _hearts_ of his countrymen. mr. johnson was pleased with my daughter veronica[ ], then a child of about four months old. she had the appearance of listening to him. his motions seemed to her to be intended for her amusement; and when he stopped, she fluttered, and made a little infantine noise, and a kind of signal for him to begin again. she would be held close to him; which was a proof, from simple nature, that his figure was not horrid. her fondness for him endeared her still more to me, and i declared she should have five hundred pounds of additional fortune[ ]. we talked of the practice of the law. sir william forbes said, he thought an honest lawyer should never undertake a cause which he was satisfied was not a just one. 'sir, (said mr. johnson,) a lawyer has no business with the justice or injustice of the cause which he undertakes, unless his client asks his opinion, and then he is bound to give it honestly. the justice or injustice of the cause is to be decided by the judge. consider, sir; what is the purpose of courts of justice? it is, that every man may have his cause fairly tried, by men appointed to try causes. a lawyer is not to tell what he knows to be a lie: he is not to produce what he knows to be a false deed; but he is not to usurp the province of the jury and of the judge, and determine what shall be the effect of evidence,--what shall be the result of legal argument. as it rarely happens that a man is fit to plead his own cause, lawyers are a class of the community, who, by study and experience, have acquired the art and power of arranging evidence, and of applying to the points at issue what the law has settled. a lawyer is to do for his client all that his client might fairly do for himself, if he could. if, by a superiority of attention, of knowledge, of skill, and a better method of communication, he has the advantage of his adversary, it is an advantage to which he is entitled. there must always be some advantage, on one side or other; and it is better that advantage should be had by talents than by chance. lawyers were to undertake no causes till they were sure they were just, a man might be precluded altogether from a trial of his claim, though, were it judicially examined it might be found a very just claim[ ].' this was sound practical doctrine, and rationally repressed a too refined scrupulosity[ ] of conscience. emigration was at this time a common topick of discourse[ ]. dr. johnson regretted it as hurtful to human happiness: 'for (said he) it spreads mankind, which weakens the defence of a nation, and lessens the comfort of living. men, thinly scattered, make a shift, but a bad shift, without many things. a smith is ten miles off: they'll do without a nail or a staple. a taylor is far from them: they'll botch their own clothes. it is being concentrated which produces high convenience[ ].' sir william forbes, mr. scott, and i, accompanied mr. johnson to the chapel[ ], founded by lord chief baron smith, for the service of the church of england. the reverend mr. carre, the senior clergyman, preached from these words, 'because the lord reigneth, let the earth be glad[ ].' i was sorry to think mr. johnson did not attend to the sermon, mr. carre's low voice not being strong enough to reach his hearing. a selection of mr. carre's sermons has, since his death, been published by sir william forbes[ ], and the world has acknowledged their uncommon merit. i am well assured lord mansfield has pronounced them to be excellent. here i obtained a promise from lord chief baron orde[ ], that he would dine at my house next day. i presented mr. johnson to his lordship, who politely said to him, i have not the honour of knowing you; but i hope for it, and to see you at my house. i am to wait on you to-morrow.' this respectable english judge will be long remembered in scotland, where he built an elegant house, and lived in it magnificently. his own ample fortune, with the addition of his salary, enabled him to be splendidly hospitable. it may be fortunate for an individual amongst ourselves to be lord chief baron; and a most worthy man now has the office; but, in my opinion, it is better for scotland in general, that some of our publick employments should be filled by gentlemen of distinction from the south side of the tweed, as we have the benefit of promotion in england. such an interchange would make a beneficial mixture of manners, and render our union more complete. lord chief baron orde was on good terms with us all, in a narrow country filled with jarring interests and keen parties; and, though i well knew his opinion to be the same with my own, he kept himself aloof at a very critical period indeed, when the _douglas cause_ shook the sacred security of _birthright_ in scotland to its foundation; a cause, which had it happened before the union, when there was no appeal to a british house of lords, would have left the great fortress of honours and of property in ruins[ ]. when we got home, dr. johnson desired to see my books. he took down ogden's _sermons on prayer_[ ], on which i set a very high value, having been much edified by them, and he retired with them to his room. he did not stay long, but soon joined us in the drawing room. i presented to him mr. robert arbuthnot, a relation of the celebrated dr. arbuthnot[ ], and a man of literature and taste. to him we were obliged for a previous recommendation, which secured us a very agreeable reception at st. andrews, and which dr. johnson, in his _journey_, ascribes to 'some invisible friend[ ].' of dr. beattie, mr. johnson said, 'sir, he has written like a man conscious of the truth, and feeling his own strength[ ]. treating your adversary with respect is giving him an advantage to which he is not entitled[ ]. the greatest part of men cannot judge of reasoning, and are impressed by character; so that, if you allow your adversary a respectable character, they will think, that though you differ from him, you may be in the wrong. sir, treating your adversary with respect, is striking soft in a battle. and as to hume,--a man who has so much conceit as to tell all mankind that they have been bubbled[ ] for ages, and he is the wise man who sees better than they,--a man who has so little scrupulosity as to venture to oppose those principles which have been thought necessary to human happiness,--is he to be surprized if another man comes and laughs at him? if he is the great man he thinks himself, all this cannot hurt him: it is like throwing peas against a rock.' he added '_something much too rough_' both as to mr. hume's head and heart, which i suppress. violence is, in my opinion, not suitable to the christian cause. besides, i always lived on good terms with mr. hume, though i have frankly told him, i was not clear that it was right in me to keep company with him. 'but, (said i) how much better are you than your books!' he was cheerful, obliging, and instructive; he was charitable to the poor; and many an agreeable hour have i passed with him[ ]: i have preserved some entertaining and interesting memoirs of him, particularly when he knew himself to be dying, which i may some time or other communicate to the world[ ]. i shall not, however, extol him so very highly as dr. adam smith does, who says, in a letter to mr. strahan the printer (not a confidential letter to his friend, but a letter which is published[ ] with all formality:) 'upon the whole, i have always considered him, both in his life time and since his death, as approaching as nearly to the idea of a perfectly wise and virtuous man as perhaps the nature of human frailty will permit.' let dr. smith consider: was not mr. hume blest with good health, good spirits, good friends, a competent and increasing fortune? and had he not also a perpetual feast of fame[ ]? but, as a learned friend has observed to me, 'what trials did he undergo to prove the perfection of his virtue? did he ever experience any great instance of adversity?'--when i read this sentence delivered by my old _professor of moral philosophy_, i could not help exclaiming with the _psalmist_, 'surely i have now more understanding than my teachers[ ]!' while we were talking, there came a note to me from dr. william robertson. 'dear sir, 'i have been expecting every day to hear from you, of dr. johnson's arrival. pray, what do you know about his motions? i long to take him by the hand. i write this from the college, where i have only this scrap of paper. ever yours, 'w. r.' 'sunday.' it pleased me to find dr. robertson thus eager to meet dr. johnson. i was glad i could answer, that he was come: and i begged dr. robertson might be with us as soon as he could. sir william forbes, mr. scott, mr. arbuthnot, and another gentleman dined with us. 'come, dr. johnson, (said i,) it is commonly thought that our veal in scotland is not good. but here is some which i believe you will like.' there was no catching him. johnson. 'why, sir, what is commonly thought, i should take to be true. _your_ veal may be good; but that will only be an exception to the general opinion; not a proof against it.' dr. robertson, according to the custom of edinburgh at that time, dined in the interval between the forenoon and afternoon service, which was then later than now; so we had not the pleasure of his company till dinner was over, when he came and drank wine with us. and then began some animated dialogue[ ], of which here follows a pretty full note. we talked of mr. burke. dr. johnson said, he had great variety of knowledge, store of imagery, copiousness of language. robertson. 'he has wit too.' johnson. 'no, sir; he never succeeds there. 'tis low; 'tis conceit. i used to say, burke never once made a good joke[ ]. what i most envy burke for, is his being constantly the same. he is never what we call hum-drum; never unwilling to begin to talk, nor in haste to leave off.' boswell. 'yet he can listen.' johnson. 'no: i cannot say he is good at that[ ]. so desirous is he to talk, that, if one is speaking at this end of the table, he'll speak to somebody at the other end. burke, sir, is such a man, that if you met him for the first time in the street where you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five minutes, he'd talk to you in such a manner, that, when you parted, you would say, this is an extraordinary man[ ]. now, you may be long enough with me, without finding any thing extraordinary.' he said, he believed burke was intended for the law; but either had not money enough to follow it, or had not diligence enough[ ]. he said, he could not understand how a man could apply to one thing, and not to another. robertson said, one man had more judgment, another more imagination. johnson. 'no, sir; it is only, one man has more mind than another. he may direct it differently; he may, by accident, see the success of one kind of study, and take a desire to excel in it. i am persuaded that, had sir isaac newton applied to poetry, he would have made a very fine epick poem. i could as easily apply to law as to tragick poetry.' boswell. 'yet, sir, you did apply to tragick poetry, not to law.' johnson. 'because, sir, i had not money to study law. sir, the man who has vigour, may walk to the east, just as well as to the west, if he happens to turn his head that way[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, 'tis like walking up and down a hill; one man will naturally do the one better than the other. a hare will run up a hill best, from her fore-legs being short; a dog down.' johnson. 'nay, sir; that is from mechanical powers. if you make mind mechanical, you may argue in that manner. one mind is a vice, and holds fast; there's a good memory. another is a file; and he is a disputant, a controversialist. another is a razor; and he is sarcastical.' we talked of whitefield. he said he was at the same college with him[ ], and knew him _before he began to be better than other people_ (smiling;) that he believed he sincerely meant well, but had a mixture of politicks and ostentation: whereas wesley thought of religion only[ ]. robertson said, whitefield had strong natural eloquence, which, if cultivated, would have done great things. johnson. 'why, sir, i take it, he was at the height of what his abilities could do, and was sensible of it. he had the ordinary advantages of education; but he chose to pursue that oratory which is for the mob[ ].' boswell. 'he had great effect on the passions.' johnson. 'why, sir, i don't think so. he could not represent a succession of pathetic images. he vociferated, and made an impression. _there_, again, was a mind like a hammer.' dr. johnson now said, a certain eminent political friend of our's[ ] was wrong, in his maxim of sticking to a certain set of _men_ on all occasions. 'i can see that a man may do right to stick to a _party_ (said he;) that is to say, he is a _whig_, or he is a _tory_, and he thinks one of those parties upon the whole the best, and that to make it prevail, it must be generally supported, though, in particulars it may be wrong. he takes its faggot of principles, in which there are fewer rotten sticks than in the other, though some rotten sticks to be sure; and they cannot well be separated. but, to bind one's self to one man, or one set of men, (who may be right to-day and wrong to-morrow,) without any general preference of system, i must disapprove[ ].' he told us of cooke, who translated hesiod, and lived twenty years on a translation of plautus, for which he was always taking subscriptions; and that he presented foote to a club, in the following singular manner: 'this is the nephew of the gentleman who was lately hung in chains for murdering his brother[ ].' in the evening i introduced to mr. johnson[ ] two good friends of mine, mr. william nairne, advocate, and mr. hamilton of sundrum, my neighbour in the country, both of whom supped with us. i have preserved nothing of what passed, except that dr. johnson displayed another of his heterodox opinions,--a contempt of tragick acting[ ]. he said, 'the action of all players in tragedy is bad. it should be a man's study to repress those signs of emotion and passion, as they are called.' he was of a directly contrary opinion to that of fielding, in his _tom jones_; who makes partridge say, of garrick, 'why, i could act as well as he myself. i am sure, if i had seen a ghost, i should have looked in the very same manner, and done just as he did[ ].' for, when i asked him, 'would you not, sir, start as mr. garrick does, if you saw a ghost?' he answered, 'i hope not. if i did, i should frighten the ghost.' monday, august . dr. william robertson came to breakfast. we talked of _ogden on prayer_. dr. johnson said, 'the same arguments which are used against god's hearing prayer, will serve against his rewarding good, and punishing evil. he has resolved, he has declared, in the former case as in the latter.' he had last night looked into lord hailes's _remarks on the history of scotland_. dr. robertson and i said, it was a pity lord hailes did not write greater things. his lordship had not then published his _annals of scotland_[ ]. johnson. 'i remember i was once on a visit at the house of a lady for whom i had a high respect. there was a good deal of company in the room. when they were gone, i said to this lady, "what foolish talking have we had!" "yes, (said she,) but while they talked, you said nothing." i was struck with the reproof. how much better is the man who does anything that is innocent, than he who does nothing. besides, i love anecdotes[ ]. i fancy mankind may come, in time, to write all aphoristically, except in narrative; grow weary of preparation, and connection, and illustration, and all those arts by which a big book is made. if a man is to wait till he weaves anecdotes into a system, we may be long in getting them, and get but few, in comparison of what we might get. dr. robertson said, the notions of _eupham macallan_, a fanatick woman, of whom lord hailes gives a sketch, were still prevalent among some of the presbyterians; and therefore it was right in lord hailes, a man of known piety, to undeceive them[ ]. we walked out[ ], that dr. johnson might see some of the things which we have to shew at edinburgh. we went to the parliament-house[ ], where the parliament of scotland sat, and where the _ordinary lords_ of session hold their courts; and to the new session-house adjoining to it, where our court of fifteen (the fourteen _ordinaries_, with the lord president at their head,) sit as a court of review. we went to the _advocates library_[ ], of which dr. johnson took a cursory view, and then to what is called the _laigh_[ ] (or under) parliament-house, where the records of scotland, which has an universal security by register, are deposited, till the great register office be finished. i was pleased to behold dr. samuel johnson rolling about in this old magazine of antiquities. there was, by this time, a pretty numerous circle of us attending upon him. somebody talked of happy moments for composition; and how a man can write at one time, and not at another. 'nay, (said dr. johnson,) a man may write at any time, if he will set himself _doggedly_[ ] to it.' i here began to indulge _old scottish_[ ] sentiments, and to express a warm regret, that, by our union with _england_, we were no more;--our independent kingdom was lost[ ]. johnson. 'sir, never talk of your independency, who could let your queen remain twenty years in captivity, and then be put to death, without even a pretence of justice, without your ever attempting to rescue her; and such a queen too; as every man of any gallantry of spirit would have sacrificed his life for[ ].' worthy mr. james kerr, keeper of the records. 'half our nation was bribed by english money.' johnson. 'sir, that is no defence: that makes you worse.' good mr. brown, keeper of the advocates' library. 'we had better say nothing about it.' boswell. 'you would have been glad, however, to have had us last war, sir, to fight your battles!' johnson. 'we should have had you for the same price, though there had been no union, as we might have had swiss, or other troops. no, no, i shall agree to a separation. you have only to _go home_.' just as he had said this, i, to divert the subject, shewed him the signed assurances of the three successive kings of the hanover family, to maintain the presbyterian establishment in scotland. 'we'll give you that (said he) into the bargain.' we next went to the great church of st. giles, which has lost its original magnificence in the inside, by being divided into four places of presbyterian worship[ ]. 'come, (said dr. johnson jocularly to principal robertson[ ],) let me see what was once a church!' we entered that division which was formerly called the _new church_, and of late the _high church_, so well known by the eloquence of dr. hugh blair. it is now very elegantly fitted up; but it was then shamefully dirty[ ]. dr. johnson said nothing at the time; but when we came to the great door of the royal infirmary, where upon a board was this inscription, '_clean your feet!_' he turned about slyly and said, 'there is no occasion for putting this at the doors of your churches!' we then conducted him down the post-house stairs, parliament-close, and made him look up from the cow-gate to the highest building in edinburgh, (from which he had just descended,) being thirteen floors or stories from the ground upon the back elevation; the front wall being built upon the edge of the hill, and the back wall rising from the bottom of the hill several stories before it comes to a level with the front wall. we proceeded to the college, with the principal at our head. dr. adam fergusson, whose _essay on the history of civil society[ ]_ gives him a respectable place in the ranks of literature, was with us. as the college buildings[ ] are indeed very mean, the principal said to dr. johnson, that he must give them the same epithet that a jesuit did when shewing a poor college abroad: '_hae miseriae nostrae_.' dr. johnson was, however, much pleased with the library, and with the conversation of dr. james robertson, professor of oriental languages, the librarian. we talked of kennicot's edition of the hebrew bible[ ], and hoped it would be quite faithful. johnson. 'sir, i know not any crime so great that a man could contrive to commit, as poisoning the sources of eternal truth.' i pointed out to him where there formerly stood an old wall enclosing part of the college, which i remember bulged out in a threatening manner, and of which there was a common tradition similar to that concerning _bacon's_ study at oxford, that it would fall upon some very learned man[ ]. it had some time before this been taken down, that the street might be widened, and a more convenient wall built. dr. johnson, glad of an opportunity to have a pleasant hit at scottish learning, said, 'they have been afraid it never would fall.' we shewed him the royal infirmary, for which, and for every other exertion of generous publick spirit in his power, that noble-minded citizen of edinburgh, george drummond, will be ever held in honourable remembrance. and we were too proud not to carry him to the abbey of holyrood-house, that beautiful piece of architecture, but, alas! that deserted mansion of royalty, which hamilton of bangour, in one of his elegant poems, calls 'a virtuous palace, where no monarch dwells[ ].' i was much entertained while principal robertson fluently harangued to dr. johnson, upon the spot, concerning scenes of his celebrated _history of scotland_. we surveyed that part of the palace appropriated to the duke of hamilton, as keeper, in which our beautiful queen mary lived, and in which david rizzio was murdered; and also the state rooms. dr. johnson was a great reciter of all sorts of things serious or comical. i overheard him repeating here in a kind of muttering tone, a line of the old ballad, _johnny armstrong's last good night_: 'and ran him through the fair body[ ]!' we returned to my house, where there met him, at dinner, the duchess of douglas[ ], sir adolphus oughton, lord chief baron, sir william forbes, principal robertson, mr. cullen[ ], advocate. before dinner he told us of a curious conversation between the famous george faulkner[ ] and him. george said that england had drained ireland of fifty thousand pounds in specie, annually, for fifty years. 'how so, sir! (said dr. johnson,) you must have a very great trade?' 'no trade.' 'very rich mines?' 'no mines.' 'from whence, then, does all this money come?' 'come! why out of the blood and bowels of the poor people of ireland!' he seemed to me to have an unaccountable prejudice against swift[ ]; for i once took the liberty to ask him, if swift had personally offended him, and he told me he had not. he said to-day, 'swift is clear, but he is shallow. in coarse humour, he is inferior to arbuthnot[ ]; in delicate humour, he is inferior to addison. so he is inferior to his contemporaries; without putting him against the whole world. i doubt if the _tale of a tub_ was his[ ]: it has so much more thinking, more knowledge, more power, more colour, than any of the works which are indisputably his. if it was his, i shall only say, he was _impar sibi_[ ].' we gave him as good a dinner as we could. our scotch muir-fowl, or growse, were then abundant, and quite in season; and so far as wisdom and wit can be aided by administering agreeable sensations to the palate, my wife took care that our great guest should not be deficient. sir adolphus oughton, then our deputy commander in chief, who was not only an excellent officer, but one of the most universal scholars i ever knew, had learned the erse language, and expressed his belief in the authenticity of ossian's poetry[ ]. dr. johnson took the opposite side of that perplexed question; and i was afraid the dispute would have run high between them. but sir adolphus, who had a very sweet temper, changed the discourse, grew playful, laughed at lord monboddo's[ ] notion of men having tails, and called him a judge, _à posteriori_, which amused dr. johnson; and thus hostilities were prevented. at supper[ ] we had dr. cullen, his son the advocate, dr. adam fergusson, and mr. crosbie, advocate. witchcraft was introduced[ ]. mr. crosbie said, he thought it the greatest blasphemy to suppose evil spirits counteracting the deity, and raising storms, for instance, to destroy his creatures. johnson. 'why, sir, if moral evil be consistent with the government of the deity, why may not physical evil be also consistent with it? it is not more strange that there should be evil spirits, than evil men: evil unembodied spirits, than evil embodied spirits. and as to storms, we know there are such things; and it is no worse that evil spirits raise them, than that they rise.' crosbie. 'but it is not credible, that witches should have effected what they are said in stories to have done.' johnson. 'sir, i am not defending their credibility. i am only saying, that your arguments are not good, and will not overturn the belief of witchcraft.--(dr. fergusson said to me, aside, 'he is right.')--and then, sir, you have all mankind, rude and civilized, agreeing in the belief of the agency of preternatural powers. you must take evidence: you must consider, that wise and great men have condemned witches to die[ ].' crosbie. 'but an act of parliament put an end to witchcraft[ ].' johnson. 'no, sir; witchcraft had ceased; and therefore an act of parliament was passed to prevent persecution for what was not witchcraft. why it ceased, we cannot tell, as we cannot tell the reason of many other things.'--dr. cullen, to keep up the gratification of mysterious disquisition, with the grave address for which he is remarkable in his companionable as in his professional hours, talked, in a very entertaining manner, of people walking and conversing in their sleep. i am very sorry i have no note of this. we talked of the _ouran-outang_, and of lord monboddo's thinking that he might be taught to speak. dr. johnson treated this with ridicule. mr. crosbie said, that lord monboddo believed the existence of every thing possible; in short, that all which is in _posse_ might be found in _esse_. johnson. 'but, sir, it is as possible that the _ouran-outang_ does not speak, as that he speaks. however, i shall not contest the point. i should have thought it not possible to find a monboddo; yet _he_ exists.' i again mentioned the stage. johnson. 'the appearance of a player, with whom i have drunk tea, counteracts the imagination that he is the character he represents. nay, you know, nobody imagines that he is the character he represents. they say, "see _garrick!_ how he looks to night! see how he'll clutch the dagger!" that is the buz of the theatre[ ].' tuesday, august . sir william forbes came to breakfast, and brought with him dr. blacklock[ ], whom he introduced to dr. johnson, who received him with a most humane complacency; 'dear dr. blacklock, i am glad to see you!' blacklock seemed to be much surprized, when dr. johnson said, 'it was easier to him to write poetry than to compose his _dictionary_[ ]. his mind was less on the stretch in doing the one than the other. besides; composing a _dictionary_ requires books and a desk: you can make a poem walking in the fields, or lying in bed. dr. blacklock spoke of scepticism in morals and religion, with apparent uneasiness, as if he wished for more certainty[ ]. dr. johnson, who had thought it all over, and whose vigorous understanding was fortified by much experience, thus encouraged the blind bard to apply to higher speculations what we all willingly submit to in common life: in short, he gave him more familiarly the able and fair reasoning of butler's _analogy_: 'why, sir, the greatest concern we have in this world, the choice of our profession, must be determined without demonstrative reasoning. human life is not yet so well known, as that we can have it. and take the case of a man who is ill. i call two physicians: they differ in opinion. i am not to lie down, and die between them: i must do something.' the conversation then turned on atheism; on that horrible book, _système de la nature_[ ]; and on the supposition of an eternal necessity, without design, without a governing mind. johnson. 'if it were so, why has it ceased? why don't we see men thus produced around us now? why, at least, does it not keep pace, in some measure, with the progress of time? if it stops because there is now no need of it, then it is plain there is, and ever has been, an all powerful intelligence. but stay! (said he, with one of his satyrick laughs[ ].) ha! ha! ha! i shall suppose scotchmen made necessarily, and englishmen by choice.' at dinner this day, we had sir alexander dick, whose amiable character, and ingenious and cultivated mind, are so generally known; (he was then on the verge of seventy, and is now ( ) eighty-one, with his faculties entire, his heart warm, and his temper gay;) sir david dalrymple, lord hailes; mr. maclaurin[ ], advocate; dr. gregory, who now worthily fills his father's medical chair[ ]; and my uncle, dr. boswell. this was one of dr. johnson's best days. he was quite in his element. all was literature and taste, without any interruption. lord hailes, who is one of the best philologists in great britain, who has written papers in _the world_[ ], and a variety of other works in prose and in verse, both latin and english, pleased him highly. he told him, he had discovered the life of _cheynel_, in _the student_[ ], to be his. johnson. 'no one else knows it.' dr. johnson had, before this, dictated to me a law-paper, upon a question purely in the law of scotland, concerning _vicious intromission_[ ], that is to say, intermeddling with the effects of a deceased person, without a regular title; which formerly was understood to subject the intermeddler to payment of all the defunct's debts. the principle has of late been relaxed. dr. johnson's argument was, for a renewal of its strictness. the paper was printed, with additions by me, and given into the court of session. lord hailes knew dr. johnson's part not to be mine, and pointed out exactly where it began, and where it ended. dr. johnson said, 'it is much, now, that his lordship can distinguish so.' in dr. johnson's _vanity of human wishes_, there is the following passage:-- 'the teeming mother, anxious for her race, begs, for each birth, the fortune of a face: yet _vane_ could tell, what ills from beauty spring, and _sedley_ curs'd the charms which pleas'd a king[ ].' lord hailes told him, he was mistaken in the instances he had given of unfortunate fair ones; for neither _vane_ nor _sedley_ had a title to that description. his lordship has since been so obliging as to send me a note of this, for the communication of which i am sure my readers will thank me. 'the lines in the tenth satire of juvenal, according to my alteration, should have run thus:-- 'yet _shore_[ ] could tell-----; and _valiere_[ ] curs'd------.' 'the first was a penitent by compulsion, the second by sentiment; though the truth is, mademoiselle de la valiere threw herself (but still from sentiment) in the king's way. 'our friend chose _vane_[ ], who was far from being well-looked; and _sedley_, who was so ugly, that charles ii. said, his brother had her by way of penance[ ].' mr. maclaurin's learning and talents enabled him to do his part very well in dr. johnson's company. he produced two epitaphs upon his father, the celebrated mathematician[ ]. one was in english, of which dr. johnson did not change one word. in the other, which was in latin, he made several alterations. in place of the very words of _virgil_, '_ubi luctus et pavor et plurima mortis imago_[ ],' he wrote '_ubi luctus regnant et pavor_.' he introduced the word _prorsus_ into the line '_mortalibus prorsus non absit solatium_,' and after '_hujus enim scripta evolve_,' he added '_mentemque tantarum rerum capacem corpori caduco superstitem crede_;' which is quite applicable to dr. johnson himself[ ]. mr. murray, advocate, who married a niece of lord mansfield's, and is now one of the judges of scotland, by the title of lord _henderland_, sat with us a part of the evening; but did not venture to say any thing, that i remember, though he is certainly possessed of talents which would have enabled him to have shewn himself to advantage, if too great anxiety had not prevented him. at supper we had dr. alexander webster, who, though not, learned, had such a knowledge of mankind, such a fund of information and entertainment, so clear a head and such accommodating manners, that dr. johnson found him a very agreeable companion. when dr. johnson and i were left by ourselves, i read to him my notes of the opinions of our judges upon the questions of literary property[ ]. he did not like them; and said, 'they make me think of your judges not with that respect which i should wish to do.' to the argument of one of them, that there can be no property in blasphemy or nonsense, he answered, 'then your rotten sheep are mine! by that rule, when a man's house falls into decay, he must lose it.' i mentioned an argument of mine, that literary performances are not taxed. as _churchill_ says, 'no statesman yet has thought it worth his pains to tax our labours, or excise our brains[ ];' and therefore they are not property. 'yet, (said he,) we hang a man for stealing a horse, and horses are not taxed.' mr. pitt has since put an end to that argument[ ]. wednesday, august . on this day we set out from edinburgh. we should gladly have had mr. scott to go with us; but he was obliged to return to england.--i have given a sketch of dr. johnson: my readers may wish to know a little of his fellow traveller[ ]. think then, of a gentleman of ancient blood, the pride of which was his predominant passion. he was then in his thirty-third year, and had been about four years happily married. his inclination was to be a soldier[ ]; but his father, a respectable[ ] judge, had pressed him into the profession of the law. he had travelled a good deal, and seen many varieties of human life. he had thought more than any body supposed, and had a pretty good stock of general learning and knowledge[ ]. he had all dr. johnson's principles, with some degree of relaxation. he had rather too little, than too much prudence; and, his imagination being lively, he often said things of which the effect was very different from the intention[ ]. he resembled sometimes 'the best good man, with the worst natur'd muse[ ].' he cannot deny himself the vanity of finishing with the encomium of dr. johnson, whose friendly partiality to the companion of his tour represents him as one 'whose acuteness would help my enquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation, and civility of manners, are sufficient to counteract the inconveniences of travel, in countries less hospitable than we have passed[ ].' dr. johnson thought it unnecessary to put himself to the additional expence of bringing with him francis barber, his faithful black servant; so we were attended only by my man, joseph ritter, a bohemian; a fine stately fellow above six feet high, who had been over a great part of europe, and spoke many languages. he was the best servant i ever saw. let not my readers disdain his introduction! for dr. johnson gave him this character: 'sir, he is a civil man, and a wise man[ ].' from an erroneous apprehension of violence, dr. johnson had provided a pair of pistols, some gunpowder, and a quantity of bullets: but upon being assured we should run no risk of meeting any robbers, he left his arms and ammunition in an open drawer, of which he gave my wife the charge. he also left in that drawer one volume of a pretty full and curious diary of his life, of which i have a few fragments; but the book has been destroyed. i wish female curiosity had been strong enough to have had it all transcribed; which might easily have been done; and i should think the theft, being _pro bono publico_, might have been forgiven. but i may be wrong. my wife told me she never once looked into it[ ].--she did not seem quite easy when we left her: but away we went! mr. nairne, advocate, was to go with us as far as st. andrews. it gives me pleasure that, by mentioning his _name_, i connect his title to the just and handsome compliment paid him by dr. johnson, in his book: 'a gentleman who could stay with us only long enough to make us know how much we lost by his leaving us[ ]. 'when we came to leith, i talked with perhaps too boasting an air, how pretty the frith of forth looked; as indeed, after the prospect from constantinople, of which i have been told, and that from naples, which i have seen, i believe the view of that frith and its environs, from the castle-hill of edinburgh, is the finest prospect in europe. 'ay, (said dr. johnson,) that is the state of the world. water is the same every where. "una est injusti caerula forma maris[ ]."' i told him the port here was the mouth of the river or water of _leith_. 'not _lethe_; said mr. nairne. 'why, sir, (said dr. johnson,) when a scotchman sets out from this port for england, he forgets his native country.' nairne. 'i hope, sir, you will forget england here.' johnson. 'then 'twill still be more _lethe_' he observed of the pier or quay, 'you have no occasion for so large a one: your trade does not require it: but you are like a shopkeeper who takes a shop, not only for what he has to put in it, but that it may be believed he has a great deal to put into it.' it is very true, that there is now, comparatively, little trade upon the eastern coast of scotland. the riches of glasgow shew how much there is in the west; and perhaps we shall find trade travel westward on a great scale, as well as a small. we talked of a man's drowning himself. johnson. 'i should never think it time to make away with myself.' i put the case of eustace budgell[ ], who was accused of forging a will, and sunk himself in the thames, before the trial of its authenticity came on. 'suppose, sir, (said i,) that a man is absolutely sure, that, if he lives a few days longer, he shall be detected in a fraud, the consequence of which will be utter disgrace and expulsion from society.' johnson. 'then, sir, let him go abroad to a distant country; let him go to some place where he is _not_ known. don't let him go to the devil where he _is_ known!' he then said, 'i see a number of people bare-footed here: i suppose you all went so before the union. boswell, your ancestors went so, when they had as much land as your family has now. yet _auchinleck_ is the _field of stones_: there would be bad going bare-footed there. the _lairds_, however, did it.' i bought some _speldings_, fish (generally whitings) salted and dried in a particular manner, being dipped in the sea and dried in the sun, and eaten by the scots by way of a relish. he had never seen them, though they are sold in london. i insisted on _scottifying_[ ] his palate; but he was very reluctant. with difficulty i prevailed with him to let a bit of one of them lie in his mouth. he did not like it. in crossing the frith, dr. johnson determined that we should land upon inch keith[ ]. on approaching it, we first observed a high rocky shore. we coasted about, and put into a little bay on the north-west. we clambered up a very steep ascent, on which was very good grass, but rather a profusion of thistles. there were sixteen head of black cattle grazing upon the island. lord hailes observed to me, that brantome calls it _l'isle des chevaux_, and that it was probably 'a _safer_ stable' than many others in his time. the fort[ ], with an inscription on it, _maria re_ , is strongly built. dr. johnson examined it with much attention. he stalked like a giant among the luxuriant thistles and nettles. there are three wells in the island; but we could not find one in the fort. there must probably have been one, though now filled up, as a garrison could not subsist without it. but i have dwelt too long on this little spot. dr. johnson afterwards bade me try to write a description of our discovering inch keith, in the usual style of travellers, describing fully every particular; stating the grounds on which we concluded that it must have once been inhabited, and introducing many sage reflections; and we should see how a thing might be covered in words, so as to induce people to come and survey it. all that was told might be true, and yet in reality there might be nothing to see. he said, 'i'd have this island. i'd build a house, make a good landing-place, have a garden, and vines, and all sorts of trees. a rich man, of a hospitable turn, here, would have many visitors from edinburgh.' when we got into our boat again, he called to me, 'come, now, pay a classical compliment to the island on quitting it.' i happened luckily, in allusion to the beautiful queen mary, whose name is upon the fort, to think of what virgil makes aeneas say, on having left the country of his charming dido. 'invitus, regina, tuo de littore cessi[ ].' 'very well hit off!' said he. we dined at kinghorn, and then got into a post-chaise[ ]. mr. nairne and his servant, and joseph, rode by us. we stopped at cupar, and drank tea. we talked of parliament; and i said, i supposed very few of the members knew much of what was going on, as indeed very few gentlemen know much of their own private affairs. johnson. 'why, sir, if a man is not of a sluggish mind, he may be his own steward. if he will look into his affairs, he will soon learn[ ]. so it is as to publick affairs. there must always be a certain number of men of business in parliament.' boswell. 'but consider, sir; what is the house of commons? is not a great part of it chosen by peers? do you think, sir, they ought to have such an influence?' johnson. 'yes, sir. influence must ever be in proportion to property; and it is right it should[ ].' boswell. 'but is there not reason to fear that the common people may be oppressed?' johnson. 'no, sir. our great fear is from want of power in government. such a storm of vulgar force has broke in.' boswell. 'it has only roared.' johnson. 'sir, it has roared, till the judges in westminster-hall have been afraid to pronounce sentence in opposition to the popular cry[ ]. you are frightened by what is no longer dangerous, like presbyterians by popery.' he then repeated a passage, i think, in _butler's remains_, which ends, 'and would cry, fire! fire! in noah's flood[ ].' we had a dreary drive, in a dusky night, to st. andrews, where we arrived late. we found a good supper at glass's inn, and dr. johnson revived agreeably. he said, 'the collection called _the muses' welcome to king james_, (first of england, and sixth of scotland,) on his return to his native kingdom, shewed that there was then abundance of learning in scotland; and that the conceits in that collection, with which people find fault, were mere mode.' he added, 'we could not now entertain a sovereign so; that buchanan had spread the spirit of learning amongst us, but we had lost it during the civil wars[ ].' he did not allow the latin poetry of pitcairne so much merit as has been usually attributed to it; though he owned that one of his pieces, which he mentioned, but which i am sorry is not specified in my notes, was, 'very well.' it is not improbable that it was the poem which prior has so elegantly translated[ ]. after supper, we made a _procession_ to _saint leonard's college_, the landlord walking before us with a candle, and the waiter with a lantern. that college had some time before been dissolved; and dr. watson, a professor here, (the historian of philip ii.) had purchased the ground, and what buildings remained. when we entered this court, it seemed quite academical; and we found in his house very comfortable and genteel accommodation[ ]. thursday, august . we rose much refreshed. i had with me a map of scotland, a bible which was given me by lord mountstuart when we were together in italy[ ], and ogden's _sermons on prayer_; mr. nairne introduced us to dr. watson, whom we found a well-informed man, of very amiable manners. dr. johnson, after they were acquainted, said, 'i take great delight in him.' his daughter, a very pleasing young lady, made breakfast. dr. watson observed, that glasgow university had fewer home-students, since trade increased, as learning was rather incompatible with it. johnson. 'why, sir, as trade is now carried on by subordinate hands, men in trade have as much leisure as others; and now learning itself is a trade. a man goes to a bookseller, and gets what he can. we have done with patronage[ ]. in the infancy of learning, we find some great man praised for it. this diffused it among others. when it becomes general, an authour leaves the great, and applies to the multitude.' boswell. 'it is a shame that authours are not now better patronized.' johnson. 'no, sir. if learning cannot support a man, if he must sit with his hands across till somebody feeds him, it is as to him a bad thing, and it is better as it is. with patronage, what flattery! what falsehood! while a man is in equilibrio, he throws truth among the multitude, and lets them take it as they please: in patronage, he must say what pleases his patron, and it is an equal chance whether that be truth or falsehood.' watson. 'but is not the case now, that, instead of flattering one person, we flatter the age?' johnson. 'no, sir. the world always lets a man tell what he thinks, his own way. i wonder, however, that so many people have written, who might have let it alone. that people should endeavour to excel in conversation, i do not wonder; because in conversation praise is instantly reverberated[ ].' we talked of change of manners. dr. johnson observed, that our drinking less than our ancestors was owing to the change from ale to wine.' i remember, (said he,) when all the _decent_ people in lichfield got drunk every night, and were not the worse thought of[ ]. ale was cheap, so you pressed strongly. when a man must bring a bottle of wine, he is not in such haste. smoking has gone out. to be sure, it is a shocking thing, blowing smoke out of our mouths into other people's mouths, eyes, and noses, and having the same thing done to us. yet i cannot account, why a thing which requires so little exertion, and yet preserves the mind from total vacuity, should have gone out[ ]. every man has something by which he calms himself: beating with his feet, or so[ ]. i remember when people in england changed a shirt only once a week[ ]: a pandour, when he gets a shirt, greases it to make it last. formerly, good tradesmen had no fire but in the kitchen; never in the parlour, except on sunday. my father, who was a magistrate of lichfield, lived thus. they never began to have a fire in the parlour, but on leaving off business, or some great revolution of their life.' dr. watson said, the hall was as a kitchen, in old squires' houses. johnson. 'no, sir. the hall was for great occasions, and never was used for domestick refection[ ].' we talked of the union, and what money it had brought into scotland. dr. watson observed, that a little money formerly went as far as a great deal now. johnson. 'in speculation, it seems that a smaller quantity of money, equal in value to a larger quantity, if equally divided, should produce the same effect. but it is not so in reality. many more conveniences and elegancies are enjoyed where money is plentiful, than where it is scarce. perhaps a great familiarity with it, which arises from plenty, makes us more easily part with it.' after what dr. johnson had said of st. andrews, which he had long wished to see, as our oldest university, and the seat of our primate in the days of episcopacy, i can say little. since the publication of dr. johnson's book, i find that he has been censured for not seeing here the ancient chapel of _st. rule_, a curious piece of sacred architecture.[ ] but this was neither his fault nor mine. we were both of us abundantly desirous of surveying such sort of antiquities: but neither of us knew of this. i am afraid the censure must fall on those who did not tell us of it. in every place, where there is any thing worthy of observation, there should be a short printed directory for strangers, such as we find in all the towns of italy, and in some of the towns in england. i was told that there is a manuscript account of st. andrews, by martin, secretary to archbishop sharp;[ ] and that one douglas has published a small account of it. i inquired at a bookseller's, but could not get it. dr. johnson's veneration for the hierarchy is well known.[ ] there is no wonder then, that he was affected with a strong indignation, while he beheld the ruins of religious magnificence. i happened to ask where john knox was buried. dr. johnson burst out, 'i hope in the high-way.[ ] i have been looking at his reformations.'[ ] it was a very fine day. dr. johnson seemed quite wrapt up in the contemplation of the scenes which were now presented to him. he kept his hat off while he was upon any part of the ground where the cathedral had stood. he said well, that 'knox had set on a mob, without knowing where it would end; and that differing from a man in doctrine was no reason why you should pull his house about his ears.' as we walked in the cloisters, there was a solemn echo, while he talked loudly of a proper retirement from the world. mr. nairne said, he had an inclination to retire. i called dr. johnson's attention to this, that i might hear his opinion if it was right. johnson. 'yes, when he has done his duty to society[ ]. in general, as every man is obliged not only to "love god, but his neighbour as himself," he must bear his part in active life; yet there are exceptions. those who are exceedingly scrupulous, (which i do not approve, for i am no friend to scruples[ ],) and find their scrupulosity[ ] invincible, so that they are quite in the dark, and know not what they shall do,--or those who cannot resist temptations, and find they make themselves worse by being in the world, without making it better, may retire[ ]. i never read of a hermit, but in imagination i kiss his feet; never of a monastery, but i could fall on my knees, and kiss the pavement. but i think putting young people there, who know nothing of life, nothing of retirement, is dangerous and wicked[ ]. it is a saying as old as hesiod, erga neon, boulaite meson, enchaite geronton[ ]. that is a very noble line: not that young men should not pray, or old men not give counsel, but that every season of life has its proper duties. i have thought of retiring, and have talked of it to a friend; but i find my vocation is rather to active life.' i said, some young monks might be allowed, to shew that it is not age alone that can retire to pious solitude; but he thought this would only shew that they could not resist temptation. he wanted to mount the steeples, but it could not be done. there are no good inscriptions here. bad roman characters he naturally mistook for half gothick, half roman. one of the steeples, which he was told was in danger, he wished not to be taken down; 'for, said he, it may fall on some of the posterity of john knox; and no great matter!'--dinner was mentioned. johnson. 'ay, ay; amidst all these sorrowful scenes, i have no objection to dinner[ ].' we went and looked at the castle, where cardinal beaton was murdered[ ], and then visited principal murison at his college, where is a good library-room; but the principal was abundantly vain of it, for he seriously said to dr. johnson, 'you have not such a one in england.'[ ] the professors entertained us with a very good dinner. present: murison, shaw, cook, hill, haddo, watson, flint, brown. i observed, that i wondered to see him eat so well, after viewing so many sorrowful scenes of ruined religious magnificence. 'why, said he, i am not sorry, after seeing these gentlemen; for they are not sorry.' murison said, all sorrow was bad, as it was murmuring against the dispensations of providence. johnson. 'sir, sorrow is inherent in humanity. as you cannot judge two and two to be either five, or three, but certainly four, so, when comparing a worse present state with a better which is past, you cannot but feel sorrow.[ ] it is not cured by reason, but by the incursion of present objects, which wear out the past. you need not murmur, though you are sorry.' murison. 'but st. paul says, "i have learnt, in whatever state i am, therewith to be content."' johnson. 'sir, that relates to riches and poverty; for we see st. paul, when he had a thorn in the flesh, prayed earnestly to have it removed; and then he could not be content.' murison, thus refuted, tried to be smart, and drank to dr. johnson, 'long may you lecture!' dr. johnson afterwards, speaking of his not drinking wine, said, 'the doctor spoke of _lecturing_ (looking to him). i give all these lectures on water.' he defended requiring subscription in those admitted to universities, thus: 'as all who come into the country must obey the king, so all who come into an university must be of the church[ ].' and here i must do dr. johnson the justice to contradict a very absurd and ill-natured story, as to what passed at st. andrews. it has been circulated, that, after grace was said in english, in the usual manner, he with the greatest marks of contempt, as if he had held it to be no grace in an university, would not sit down till he had said grace aloud in latin. this would have been an insult indeed to the gentlemen who were entertaining us. but the truth was precisely thus. in the course of conversation at dinner, dr. johnson, in very good humour, said, 'i should have expected to have heard a latin grace, among so many learned men: we had always a latin grace at oxford. i believe i can repeat it.'[ ] which he did, as giving the learned men in one place a specimen of what was done by the learned men in another place. we went and saw the church, in which is archbishop sharp's monument.[ ] i was struck with the same kind of feelings with which the churches of italy impressed me. i was much pleased, to see dr. johnson actually in st. andrews, of which we had talked so long. professor haddo was with us this afternoon, along with dr. watson. we looked at st. salvador's college. the rooms for students seemed very commodious, and dr. johnson said, the chapel was the neatest place of worship he had seen. the key of the library could not be found; for it seems professor hill, who was out of town, had taken it with him. dr. johnson told a joke he had heard of a monastery abroad, where the key of the library could never be found. it was somewhat dispiriting, to see this ancient archiepiscopal city now sadly deserted[ ]. we saw in one of its streets a remarkable proof of liberal toleration; a nonjuring clergyman, strutting about in his canonicals, with a jolly countenance and a round belly, like a well-fed monk. we observed two occupations united in the same person, who had hung out two sign-posts. upon one was, 'james hood, white iron smith' (_i.e._ tin-plate worker). upon another, 'the art of fencing taught, by james hood.'--upon this last were painted some trees, and two men fencing, one of whom had hit the other in the eye, to shew his great dexterity; so that the art was well taught. johnson. 'were i studying here, i should go and take a lesson. i remember _hope_, in his book on this art[ ], says, "the scotch are very good fencers."' we returned to the inn, where we had been entertained at dinner, and drank tea in company with some of the professors, of whose civilities i beg leave to add my humble and very grateful acknowledgement to the honourable testimony of dr. johnson, in his _journey_[ ]. we talked of composition, which was a favourite topick of dr. watson's, who first distinguished himself by lectures on rhetorick. johnson. 'i advised chambers, and would advise every young man beginning to compose, to do it as fast as he can, to get a habit of having his mind to start promptly; it is so much more difficult to improve in speed than in accuracy[ ].' watson. 'i own i am for much attention to accuracy in composing, lest one should get bad habits of doing it in a slovenly manner.' johnson. 'why, sir, you are confounding _doing_ inaccurately with the _necessity_ of doing inaccurately. a man knows when his composition is inaccurate, and when he thinks fit he'll correct it. but, if a man is accustomed to compose slowly, and with difficulty, upon all occasions, there is danger that he may not compose at all, as we do not like to do that which is not done easily; and, at any rate, more time is consumed in a small matter than ought to be.' watson. 'dr. hugh blair has taken a week to compose a sermon.' johnson. 'then, sir, that is for want of the habit of composing quickly, which i am insisting one should acquire.' watson. 'blair was not composing all the week, but only such hours as he found himself disposed for composition.' johnson. 'nay, sir, unless you tell me the time he took, you tell me nothing. if i say i took a week to walk a mile, and have had the gout five days, and been ill otherwise another day, i have taken but one day. i myself have composed about forty sermons[ ]. i have begun a sermon after dinner, and sent it off by the post that night. i wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the _life of savage_ at a sitting; but then i sat up all night. i have also written six sheets in a day of translation from the french[ ].' boswell. 'we have all observed how one man dresses himself slowly, and another fast.' johnson. 'yes, sir: it is wonderful how much time some people will consume in dressing; taking up a thing and looking at it, and laying it down, and taking it up again. every one should get the habit of doing it quickly. i would say to a young divine, "here is your text; let me see how soon you can make a sermon." then i'd say, "let me see how much better you can make it." thus i should see both his powers and his judgement.' we all went to dr. watson's to supper. miss sharp, great grandchild of archbishop sharp, was there; as was mr. craig, the ingenious architect of the new town of edinburgh[ ] and nephew of thomson, to whom dr. johnson has since done so much justice, in his _lives of the poets_. we talked of memory, and its various modes. johnson. 'memory will play strange tricks. one sometimes loses a single word. i once lost _fugaces_ in the ode _posthume, posthume_[ ].' i mentioned to him, that a worthy gentleman of my acquaintance actually forgot his own name. johnson. 'sir, that was a morbid oblivion.' friday, august . dr. shaw, the professor of divinity, breakfasted with us. i took out my _ogden on prayer_, and read some of it to the company. dr. johnson praised him. 'abernethy[ ], (said he,) allows only of a physical effect of prayer upon the mind, which may be produced many ways, as well as by prayer; for instance, by meditation. ogden goes farther. in truth, we have the consent of all nations for the efficacy of prayer, whether offered up by individuals, or by assemblies; and revelation has told us, it will be effectual.' i said, 'leechman seemed to incline to abernethy's doctrine.' dr. watson observed, that leechman meant to shew, that, even admitting no effect to be produced by prayer, respecting the deity, it was useful to our own minds[ ]. he had given only a part of his system. dr. johnson thought he should have given the whole. dr. johnson enforced the strict observance of sunday[ ]. 'it should be different (he observed) from another day. people may walk, but not throw stones at birds. there may be relaxation, but there should be no levity[ ].' we went and saw colonel nairne's garden and grotto. here was a fine old plane tree. unluckily the colonel said, there was but this and another large tree in the county. this assertion was an excellent cue for dr. johnson, who laughed enormously, calling to me to hear it. he had expatiated to me on the nakedness of that part of scotland which he had seen. his _journey_ has been violently abused, for what he has said upon this subject. but let it be considered, that, when dr. johnson talks of trees, he means trees of good size, such as he was accustomed to see in england; and of these there are certainly very few upon the _eastern coast_ of scotland. besides, he said, that he meant to give only a map of the road; and let any traveller observe how many trees, which deserve the name, he can see from the road from berwick to aberdeen[ ]. had dr. johnson said, 'there are _no_ trees' upon this line, he would have said what is colloquially true; because, by no trees, in common speech, we mean few. when he is particular in counting, he may be attacked. i know not how colonel nairne came to say there were but _two_ large trees in the county of fife. i did not perceive that he smiled. there are certainly not a great many; but i could have shewn him more than two at _balmuto_, from whence my ancestors came, and which now belongs to a branch of my family[ ]. the grotto was ingeniously constructed. in the front of it were petrified stocks of fir, plane, and some other tree. dr. johnson said, 'scotland has no right to boast of this grotto; it is owing to personal merit. i never denied personal merit to many of you.' professor shaw said to me, as we walked, 'this is a wonderful man; he is master of every subject he handles.' dr. watson allowed him a very strong understanding, but wondered at his total inattention to established manners, as he came from london. i have not preserved in my journal, any of the conversation which passed between dr. johnson and professor shaw; but i recollect dr. johnson said to me afterwards, 'i took much to shaw.' we left st. andrews about noon, and some miles from it observing, at _leuchars_, a church with an old tower, we stopped to look at it. the _manse_, as the parsonage-house is called in scotland, was close by. i waited on the minister, mentioned our names, and begged he would tell us what he knew about it. he was a very civil old man; but could only inform us, that it was supposed to have stood eight hundred years. he told us, there was a colony of danes in his parish[ ]; that they had landed at a remote period of time, and still remained a distinct people. dr. johnson shrewdly inquired whether they had brought women with them. we were not satisfied as to this colony. we saw, this day, dundee and aberbrothick, the last of which dr. johnson has celebrated in his _journey_[ ]. upon the road we talked of the roman catholick faith. he mentioned (i think) tillotson's argument against transubstantiation: 'that we are as sure we see bread and wine only, as that we read in the bible the text on which that false doctrine is founded. we have only the evidence of our senses for both[ ].' 'if, (he added,) god had never spoken figuratively, we might hold that he speaks literally, when he says, "this is my body[ ]."' boswell. 'but what do you say, sir, to the ancient and continued tradition of the church upon this point?' johnson. 'tradition, sir, has no place, where the scriptures are plain; and tradition cannot persuade a man into a belief of transubstantiation. able men, indeed, have _said_ they believed it.' this is an awful subject. i did not then press dr. johnson upon it: nor shall i now enter upon a disquisition concerning the import of those words uttered by our saviour[ ], which had such an effect upon many of his disciples, that they 'went back, and walked no more with him.' the catechism and solemn office for communion, in the church of england, maintain a mysterious belief in more than a mere commemoration of the death of christ, by partaking of the elements of bread and wine. dr. johnson put me in mind, that, at st. andrews, i had defended my profession very well, when the question had again been started, whether a lawyer might honestly engage with the first side that offers him a fee. 'sir, (said i,) it was with your arguments against sir william forbes[ ]: but it was much that i could wield the arms of goliah.' he said, our judges had not gone deep in the question concerning literary property. i mentioned lord monboddo's opinion, that if a man could get a work by heart, he might print it, as by such an act the mind is exercised. johnson. 'no, sir; a man's repeating it no more makes it his property, than a man may sell a cow which he drives home.' i said, printing an abridgement of a work was allowed, which was only cutting the horns and tail off the cow. johnson. 'no, sir; 'tis making the cow have a calf[ ].' about eleven at night we arrived at montrose. we found but a sorry inn, where i myself saw another waiter put a lump of sugar with his fingers into dr. johnson's lemonade, for which he called him 'rascal!' it put me in great glee that our landlord was an englishman. i rallied the doctor upon this, and he grew quiet[ ]. both sir john hawkins's and dr. burney's _history of musick_ had then been advertised. i asked if this was not unlucky: would not they hurt one another? johnson. 'no, sir. they will do good to one another. some will buy the one, some the other, and compare them; and so a talk is made about a thing, and the books are sold.' he was angry at me for proposing to carry lemons with us to sky, that he might be sure to have his lemonade. 'sir, (said he,) i do not wish to be thought that feeble man who cannot do without any thing. sir, it is very bad manners to carry provisions to any man's house, as if he could not entertain you. to an inferior, it is oppressive; to a superior, it is insolent.' having taken the liberty, this evening, to remark to dr. johnson, that he very often sat quite silent for a long time, even when in company with only a single friend, which i myself had sometimes sadly experienced, he smiled and said, 'it is true, sir[ ]. tom tyers, (for so he familiarly called our ingenious friend, who, since his death, has paid a biographical tribute to his memory[ ],) tom tyers described me the best. he once said to me, "sir, you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken to[ ]."' saturday, august . neither the rev. mr. nisbet, the established minister, nor the rev. mr. spooner, the episcopal minister, were in town. before breakfast, we went and saw the town-hall, where is a good dancing-room, and other rooms for tea-drinking. the appearance of the town from it is very well; but many of the houses are built with their ends to the street, which looks awkward. when we came down from it, i met mr. gleg, a merchant here. he went with us to see the english chapel. it is situated on a pretty dry spot, and there is a fine walk to it. it is really an elegant building, both within and without. the organ is adorned with green and gold. dr. johnson gave a shilling extraordinary to the clerk, saying, 'he belongs to an honest church[ ].' i put him in mind, that episcopals were but _dissenters_ here; they were only _tolerated_. 'sir, (said he,) we are here, as christians in turkey.' he afterwards went into an apothecary's shop, and ordered some medicine for himself, and wrote the prescription in technical characters. the boy took him for a physician[ ]. i doubted much which road to take, whether to go by the coast, or by laurence kirk and monboddo. i knew lord monboddo and dr. johnson did not love each other[ ]; yet i was unwilling not to visit his lordship; and was also curious to see them together[ ]. i mentioned my doubts to dr. johnson, who said, he would go two miles out of his way to see lord monboddo[ ]. i therefore sent joseph forward with the following note:-- 'montrose, august . 'my dear lord, 'thus far i am come with mr. samuel johnson. we must be at aberdeen to-night. i know you do not admire him so much as i do; but i cannot be in this country without making you a bow at your old place, as i do not know if i may again have an opportunity of seeing monboddo. besides, mr. johnson says, he would go two miles out of his way to see lord monboddo. i have sent forward my servant, that we may know if your lordship be at home. 'i am ever, my dear lord, 'most sincerely yours, 'james boswell.' as we travelled onwards from montrose, we had the grampion hills in our view, and some good land around us, but void of trees and hedges. dr. johnson has said ludicrously, in his _journey_, that the _hedges_ were of _stone_[ ]; for, instead of the verdant _thorn_ to refresh the eye, we found the bare _wall_ or _dike_ intersecting the prospect. he observed, that it was wonderful to see a country so divested, so denuded of trees. we stopped at laurence kirk[ ], where our great grammarian, ruddiman[ ], was once schoolmaster. we respectfully remembered that excellent man and eminent scholar, by whose labours a knowledge of the latin language will be preserved in scotland, if it shall be preserved at all. lord gardenston[ ], one of our judges, collected money to raise a monument to him at this place, which i hope will be well executed[ ]. i know my father gave five guineas towards it. lord gardenston is the proprietor of laurence kirk, and has encouraged the building of a manufacturing village, of which he is exceedingly fond, and has written a pamphlet upon it[ ], as if he had founded thebes; in which, however, there are many useful precepts strongly expressed. the village seemed to be irregularly built, some of the houses being of clay, some of brick, and some of brick and stone. dr. johnson observed, they thatched well here. i was a little acquainted with mr. forbes, the minister of the parish. i sent to inform him that a gentleman desired to see him. he returned for answer, 'that he would not come to a stranger.' i then gave my name, and he came. i remonstrated to him for not coming to a stranger; and, by presenting him to dr. johnson, proved to him what a stranger might sometimes be. his bible inculcates, 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers,' and mentions the same motive[ ]. he defended himself by saying, 'he had once come to a stranger who sent for him; and he found him "_a little worth person!_"' dr. johnson insisted on stopping at the inn, as i told him that lord gardenston had furnished it with a collection of books, that travellers might have entertainment for the mind, as well as the body. he praised the design, but wished there had been more books, and those better chosen. about a mile from monboddo, where you turn off the road, joseph was waiting to tell us my lord expected us to dinner. we drove over a wild moor. it rained, and the scene was somewhat dreary. dr. johnson repeated, with solemn emphasis, macbeth's speech on meeting the witches. as we travelled on, he told me, 'sir, you got into our club by doing what a man can do[ ]. several of the members wished to keep you out. burke told me, he doubted if you were fit for it: but, now you are in, none of them are sorry. burke says, that you have so much good humour naturally, it is scarce a virtue[ ].' boswell. 'they were afraid of you, sir, as it was you who proposed me.' johnson. 'sir, they knew, that if they refused you, they'd probably never have got in another. i'd have kept them all out. beauclerk was very earnest for you.' boswell. "beauclerk has a keenness of mind which is very uncommon." johnson. 'yes, sir; and everything comes from him so easily. it appears to me that i labour, when i say a good thing.' boswell. 'you are loud, sir; but it is not an effort of mind[ ].' monboddo is a wretched place, wild and naked, with a poor old house; though, if i recollect right, there are two turrets which mark an old baron's residence. lord monboddo received us at his gate most courteously; pointed to the douglas arms upon his house, and told us that his great-grandmother was of that family. 'in such houses (said he,) our ancestors lived, who were better men than we.' 'no, no, my lord (said dr. johnson). we are as strong as they, and a great deal wiser[ ].' this was an assault upon one of lord monboddo's capital dogmas, and i was afraid there would have been a violent altercation in the very close, before we got into the house. but his lordship is distinguished not only for 'ancient metaphysicks,' but for ancient _politesse_, '_la vieille cour_' and he made no reply[ ]. his lordship was dressed in a rustick suit, and wore a little round hat; he told us, we now saw him as _farmer burnet_[ ], and we should have his family dinner, a farmer's dinner. he said, 'i should not have forgiven mr. boswell, had he not brought you here, dr. johnson.' he produced a very long stalk of corn, as a specimen of his crop, and said, 'you see here the _loetas segetes_[ ];' he added, that _virgil_ seemed to be as enthusiastick a farmer as he[ ], and was certainly a practical one. johnson. 'it does not always follow, my lord, that a man who has written a good poem on an art, has practised it. philip miller told me, that in philips's _cyder_, a poem, all the precepts were just, and indeed better than in books written for the purpose of instructing; yet philips had never made cyder[ ].' i started the subject of emigration[ ]. johnson. 'to a man of mere animal life, you can urge no argument against going to america, but that it will be some time before he will get the earth to produce. but a man of any intellectual enjoyment will not easily go and immerse himself and his posterity for ages in barbarism.' he and my lord spoke highly of homer. johnson. 'he had all the learning of his age. the shield of achilles shews a nation in war, a nation in peace; harvest sport, nay, stealing[ ].' monboddo. 'ay, and what we (looking to me) would call a parliament-house scene[ ]; a cause pleaded.' johnson. 'that is part of the life of a nation in peace. and there are in homer such characters of heroes, and combinations of qualities of heroes, that the united powers of mankind ever since have not produced any but what are to be found there.' monboddo. 'yet no character is described.' johnson. 'no; they all develope themselves. agamemnon is always a gentleman-like character; he has always [greek: basilikon ti]. that the ancients held so, is plain from this; that euripides, in his _hecuba_, makes him the person to interpose[ ].' monboddo. 'the history of manners is the most valuable. i never set a high value on any other history.' johnson. 'nor i; and therefore i esteem biography, as giving us what comes near to ourselves, what we can turn to use[ ].' boswell. 'but in the course of general history, we find manners. in wars, we see the dispositions of people, their degrees of humanity, and other particulars.' johnson. 'yes; but then you must take all the facts to get this; and it is but a little you get.' monboddo. 'and it is that little which makes history valuable.' bravo! thought i; they agree like two brothers. monboddo. 'i am sorry, dr. johnson, you were not longer at edinburgh to receive the homage of our men of learning.' johnson. 'my lord, i received great respect and great kindness.' boswell. 'he goes back to edinburgh after our tour.' we talked of the decrease of learning in scotland, and of the _muses' welcome_[ ]. johnson. 'learning is much decreased in england, in my remembrance[ ].' monboddo. 'you, sir, have lived to see its decrease in england, i its extinction in scotland.' however, i brought him to confess that the high school of edinburgh did well. johnson. 'learning has decreased in england, because learning will not do so much for a man as formerly. there are other ways of getting preferment. few bishops are now made for their learning. to be a bishop, a man must be learned in a learned age,--factious in a factious age; but always of eminence[ ]. warburton is an exception; though his learning alone did not raise him. he was first an antagonist to pope, and helped theobald to publish his _shakspeare_; but, seeing pope the rising man, when crousaz attacked his _essay on man_, for some faults which it has, and some which it has not, warburton defended it in the review of that time[ ]. this brought him acquainted with pope, and he gained his friendship. pope introduced him to allen, allen married him to his niece: so, by allen's interest and his own, he was made a bishop[ ]. but then his learning was the _sine qua non_: he knew how to make the most of it; but i do not find by any dishonest means.' monboddo. 'he is a great man.' johnson. 'yes; he has great knowledge,--great power of mind. hardly any man brings greater variety of learning to bear upon his point[ ].' monboddo. 'he is one of the greatest lights of your church.' johnson. 'why, we are not so sure of his being very friendly to us[ ]. he blazes, if you will, but that is not always the steadiest light. lowth is another bishop who has risen by his learning.' dr. johnson examined young arthur, lord monboddo's son, in latin. he answered very well; upon which he said, with complacency, 'get you gone! when king james comes back[ ], you shall be in the _muses welcome_!' my lord and dr. johnson disputed a little, whether the savage or the london shopkeeper had the best existence; his lordship, as usual, preferring the savage. my lord was extremely hospitable, and i saw both dr. johnson and him liking each other better every hour. dr. johnson having retired for a short time, his lordship spoke of his conversation as i could have wished. dr. johnson had said, 'i have done greater feats with my knife than this;' though he had eaten a very hearty dinner. my lord, who affects or believes he follows an abstemious system, seemed struck with dr. johnson's manner of living. i had a particular satisfaction in being under the roof of monboddo, my lord being my father's old friend, and having been always very good to me. we were cordial together. he asked dr. johnson and me to stay all night. when i said we _must_ be at aberdeen, he replied, 'well, i am like the romans: i shall say to you, "happy to come;--happy to depart!"' he thanked dr. johnson for his visit. johnson. 'i little thought, when i had the honour to meet your lordship in london, that i should see you at monboddo.' after dinner, as the ladies[ ] were going away, dr. johnson would stand up. he insisted that politeness was of great consequence in society. 'it is, (said he,) fictitious benevolence[ ]. it supplies the place of it amongst those who see each other only in publick, or but little. depend upon it, the want of it never fails to produce something disagreeable to one or other. i have always applied to good breeding, what addison in his _cato_[ ] says of honour:-- "honour's a sacred tie; the law of kings; the noble mind's distinguishing perfection, that aids and strengthens virtue where it meets her; and imitates her actions where she is not."' when he took up his large oak stick, he said, 'my lord, that's _homerick_[ ];' thus pleasantly alluding to his lordship's favourite writer. gory, my lord's black servant, was sent as our guide, to conduct us to the high road. the circumstance of each of them having a black servant was another point of similarity between johnson and monboddo. i observed how curious it was to see an african in the north of scotland, with little or no difference of manners from those of the natives. dr. johnson laughed to see gory and joseph riding together most cordially. 'those two fellows, (said he,) one from africa, the other from bohemia, seem quite at home.' he was much pleased with lord monboddo to-day. he said, he would have pardoned him for a few paradoxes, when he found he had so much that was good: but that, from his appearance in london, he thought him all paradox; which would not do. he observed that his lordship had talked no paradoxes to-day. 'and as to the savage and the london shopkeeper, (said he,) i don't know but i might have taken the side of the savage equally, had any body else taken the side of the shopkeeper.[ ]' he had said to my lord, in opposition to the value of the savage's courage, that it was owing to his limited power of thinking, and repeated pope's verses, in which 'macedonia's madman' is introduced, and the conclusion is, 'yet ne'er looks forward farther than his nose[ ].' i objected to the last phrase, as being low. johnson. 'sir, it is intended to be low: it is satire. the expression is debased, to debase the character.' when gory was about to part from us, dr. johnson called to him, 'mr. gory, give me leave to ask you a question! are you baptised?' gory told him he was, and confirmed by the bishop of durham. he then gave him a shilling. we had tedious driving this afternoon, and were somewhat drowsy. last night i was afraid dr. johnson was beginning to faint in his resolution; for he said, 'if we must ride much, we shall not go; and there's an end on't.' to-day, when he talked of _sky_ with spirit, i said, 'why, sir, you seemed to me to despond yesterday. you are a delicate londoner;--you are a maccaroni[ ]; you can't ride.' johnson. 'sir, i shall ride better than you. i was only afraid i should not find a horse able to carry me.' i hoped then there would be no fear of getting through our wild tour. we came to aberdeen at half an hour past eleven. the new inn, we were told, was full. this was comfortless. the waiter, however, asked, if one of our names was boswell, and brought me a letter left at the inn: it was from mr. thrale, enclosing one to dr. johnson[ ]. finding who i was, we were told they would contrive to lodge us by putting us for a night into a room with two beds. the waiter said to me in the broad strong aberdeenshire dialect, 'i thought i knew you by your likeness to your father.' my father puts up at the new inn, when on his circuit. little was said to-night. i was to sleep in a little press-bed in dr. johnson's room. i had it wheeled out into the dining-room, and there i lay very well. sunday, august . i sent a message to professor thomas gordon, who came and breakfasted with us. he had secured seats for us at the english chapel. we found a respectable congregation, and an admirable organ, well played by mr. tait. we walked down to the shore: dr. johnson laughed to hear that cromwell's soldiers taught the aberdeen people to make shoes and stockings, and to plant cabbages[ ]. he asked, if weaving the plaids[ ] was ever a domestick art in the highlands, like spinning or knitting. they could not inform him here. but he conjectured probably, that where people lived so remote from each other, it was likely to be a domestick art; as we see it was among the ancients, from penelope. i was sensible to-day, to an extraordinary degree, of dr. johnson's excellent english pronunciation. i cannot account for its striking me more now than any other day: but it was as if new to me; and i listened to every sentence which he spoke, as to a musical composition. professor gordon gave him an account of the plan of education in his college. dr. johnson said, it was similar to that at oxford. waller the poet's great-grandson was studying here. dr. johnson wondered that a man should send his son so far off, when there were so many good schools in england[ ]. he said, 'at a great school there is all the splendour and illumination of many minds; the radiance of all is concentrated in each, or at least reflected upon each. but we must own that neither a dull boy, nor an idle boy, will do so well at a great school as at a private one. for at a great school there are always boys enough to do well easily, who are sufficient to keep up the credit of the school; and after whipping being tried to no purpose, the dull or idle boys are left at the end of a class, having the appearance of going through the course, but learning nothing at all[ ]. such boys may do good at a private school, where constant attention is paid to them, and they are watched. so that the question of publick or private education is not properly a general one; but whether one or the other is best for _my son_.' we were told the present mr. waller was a plain country gentleman; and his son would be such another. i observed, a family could not expect a poet but in a hundred generations. 'nay, (said dr. johnson,) not one family in a hundred can expect a poet in a hundred generations.' he then repeated dryden's celebrated lines, 'three poets in three distant ages born,' &c. and a part of a latin translation of it done at oxford[ ]: he did not then say by whom. he received a card from sir alexander gordon, who had been his acquaintance twenty years ago in london, and who, 'if forgiven for not answering a line from him,' would come in the afternoon. dr. johnson rejoiced to hear of him, and begged he would come and dine with us. i was much pleased to see the kindness with which dr. johnson received his old friend sir alexander[ ]; a gentleman of good family, _lismore_, but who had not the estate. the king's college here made him professor of medicine, which affords him a decent subsistence. he told us that the value of the stockings exported from aberdeen was, in peace, a hundred thousand pounds; and amounted, in time of war, to one hundred and seventy thousand pounds. dr. johnson asked, what made the difference? here we had a proof of the comparative sagacity of the two professors. sir alexander answered, 'because there is more occasion for them in war.' professor thomas gordon answered, 'because the germans, who are our great rivals in the manufacture of stockings, are otherwise employed in time of war.' johnson. 'sir, you have given a very good solution.' at dinner, dr. johnson ate several plate-fulls of scotch broth, with barley and peas in it, and seemed very fond of the dish. i said, 'you never ate it before.' johnson. 'no, sir; but i don't care how soon i eat it again[ ].' my cousin, miss dallas, formerly of inverness, was married to mr. riddoch, one of the ministers of the english chapel here. he was ill, and confined to his room; but she sent us a kind invitation to tea, which we all accepted. she was the same lively, sensible, cheerful woman as ever. dr. johnson here threw out some jokes against scotland. he said, 'you go first to aberdeen; then to _enbru_ (the scottish pronunciation of edinburgh); then to newcastle, to be polished by the colliers; then to york; then to london.' and he laid hold of a little girl, stuart dallas, niece to mrs. riddoch, and, representing himself as a giant, said, he would take her with him! telling her, in a hollow voice, that he lived in a cave, and had a bed in the rock, and she should have a little bed cut opposite to it! he thus treated the point, as to prescription of murder in scotland[ ]. 'a jury in england would make allowance for deficiencies of evidence, on account of lapse of time; but a general rule that a crime should not be punished, or tried for the purpose of punishment, after twenty years, is bad. it is cant to talk of the king's advocate delaying a prosecution from malice. how unlikely is it the king's advocate should have malice against persons who commit murder, or should even know them at all. if the son of the murdered man should kill the murderer who got off merely by prescription, i would help him to make his escape; though, were i upon his jury, i would not acquit him. i would not advise him to commit such an act. on the contrary, i would bid him submit to the determination of society, because a man is bound to submit to the inconveniences of it, as he enjoys the good: but the young man, though politically wrong, would not be morally wrong. he would have to say, 'here i am amongst barbarians, who not only refuse to do justice, but encourage the greatest of all crimes. i am therefore in a state of nature: for, so far as there is no law, it is a state of nature: and consequently, upon the eternal and immutable law of justice, which requires that he who sheds man's blood should have his blood shed[ ], i will stab the murderer of my father.' we went to our inn, and sat quietly. dr. johnson borrowed, at mr. riddoch's, a volume of _massillon's discourses on the psalms_: but i found he read little in it. ogden too he sometimes took up, and glanced at; but threw it down again. i then entered upon religious conversation. never did i see him in a better frame: calm, gentle, wise, holy. i said, 'would not the same objection hold against the trinity as against transubstantiation?' 'yes, (said he,) if you take three and one in the same sense. if you do so, to be sure you cannot believe it: but the three persons in the godhead are three in one sense, and one in another. we cannot tell how; and that is the mystery!' i spoke of the satisfaction of christ. he said his notion was, that it did not atone for the sins of the world; but, by satisfying divine justice, by shewing that no less than the son of god suffered for sin, it shewed to men and innumerable created beings, the heinousness of it, and therefore rendered it unnecessary for divine vengeance to be exercised against sinners, as it otherwise must have been; that in this way it might operate even in favour of those who had never heard of it: as to those who did hear of it, the effect it should produce would be repentance and piety, by impressing upon the mind a just notion of sin: that original sin was the propensity to evil, which no doubt was occasioned by the fall. he presented this solemn subject in a new light to me[ ], and rendered much more rational and clear the doctrine of what our saviour has done for us;--as it removed the notion of imputed righteousness in co-operating; whereas by this view, christ has done all already that he had to do, or is ever to do for mankind, by making his great satisfaction; the consequences of which will affect each individual according to the particular conduct of each. i would illustrate this by saying, that christ's satisfaction resembles a sun placed to shew light to men, so that it depends upon themselves whether they will walk the right way or not, which they could not have done without that sun, '_the sun of righteousness_[ ]' there is, however, more in it than merely giving light--_a light to lighten the gentiles_[ ]: for we are told, there _is healing under his wings_[ ]. dr. johnson said to me, 'richard baxter commends a treatise by grotius, _de satisfactione christi_. i have never read it: but i intend to read it; and you may read it.' i remarked, upon the principle now laid down, we might explain the difficult and seemingly hard text, 'they that believe shall be saved; and they that believe not shall be damned[ ]:' they that believe shall have such an impression made upon their minds, as will make them act so that they may be accepted by god. we talked of one of our friends[ ] taking ill, for a length of time, a hasty expression of dr. johnson's to him, on his attempting to prosecute a subject that had a reference to religion, beyond the bounds within which the doctor thought such topicks should be confined in a mixed company. johnson. 'what is to become of society, if a friendship of twenty years is to be broken off for such a cause?' as bacon says, 'who then to frail mortality shall trust, but limns the water, or but writes in dust[ ].' i said, he should write expressly in support of christianity; for that, although a reverence for it shines through his works in several places, that is not enough. 'you know, (said i,) what grotius has done, and what addison has done[ ].--you should do also.' he replied, 'i hope i shall.' monday, august . principal campbell, sir alexander gordon, professor gordon, and professor ross, visited us in the morning, as did dr. gerard, who had come six miles from the country on purpose. we went and saw the marischal college[ ], and at one o'clock we waited on the magistrates in the town hall, as they had invited us in order to present dr. johnson with the freedom of the town, which provost jopp did with a very good grace. dr. johnson was much pleased with this mark of attention, and received it very politely. there was a pretty numerous company assembled. it was striking to hear all of them drinking 'dr. johnson! dr. johnson!' in the town-hall of aberdeen, and then to see him with his burgess-ticket, or diploma[ ], in his hat, which he wore as he walked along the street, according to the usual custom. it gave me great satisfaction to observe the regard, and indeed fondness too, which every body here had for my father. while sir alexander gordon conducted dr. johnson to old aberdeen, professor gordon and i called on mr. riddoch, whom i found to be a grave worthy clergyman. he observed, that, whatever might be said of dr. johnson while he was alive, he would, after he was dead, be looked upon by the world with regard and astonishment, on account of his _dictionary_. professor gordon and i walked over to the old college, which dr. johnson had seen by this time. i stepped into the chapel, and looked at the tomb of the founder, archbishop elphinston[ ], of whom i shall have occasion to write in my _history of james iv. of scotland_, the patron of my family[ ]. we dined at sir alexander gordon's. the provost, professor ross, professor dunbar, professor thomas gordon, were there. after dinner came in dr. gerard, professor leslie[ ], professor macleod. we had little or no conversation in the morning; now we were but barren. the professors seemed afraid to speak[ ]. dr. gerard told us that an eminent printer[ ] was very intimate with warburton. johnson. 'why, sir, he has printed some of his works, and perhaps bought the property of some of them. the intimacy is such as one of the professors here may have with one of the carpenters who is repairing the college.' 'but, (said gerard,) i saw a letter from him to this printer, in which he says, that the one half of the clergy of the church of scotland are fanaticks, and the other half infidels.' johnson. 'warburton has accustomed himself to write letters just as he speaks, without thinking any more of what he throws out[ ]. when i read warburton first, and observed his force, and his contempt of mankind, i thought he had driven the world before him; but i soon found that was not the case; for warburton, by extending his abuse, rendered it ineffectual[ ].' he told me, when we were by ourselves, that he thought it very wrong in the printer to shew warburton's letter, as it was raising a body of enemies against him. he thought it foolish in warburton to write so to the printer; and added, 'sir, the worst way of being intimate, is by scribbling.' he called warburton's _doctrine of grace_[ ] a poor performance, and so he said was wesley's answer[ ]. 'warburton, he observed, had laid himself very open. in particular, he was weak enough to say, that, in some disorders of the imagination, people had spoken with tongues, had spoken languages which they never knew before; a thing as absurd as to say, that, in some disorders of the imagination, people had been known to fly.' i talked of the difference of genius, to try if i could engage gerard in a disquisition with dr. johnson; but i did not succeed. i mentioned, as a curious fact, that locke had written verses. johnson. 'i know of none, sir, but a kind of exercise prefixed to dr. sydenham's works[ ], in which he has some conceits about the dropsy, in which water and burning are united; and how dr. sydenham removed fire by drawing off water, contrary to the usual practice, which is to extinguish fire by bringing water upon it. i am not sure that there is a word of all this; but it is such kind of talk[ ].' we spoke of _fingal_[ ]. dr. johnson said calmly, 'if the poems were really translated, they were certainly first written down. let mr. macpherson deposite the manuscript in one of the colleges at aberdeen, where there are people who can judge; and, if the professors certify the authenticity, then there will be an end of the controversy. if he does not take this obvious and easy method, he gives the best reason to doubt; considering too, how much is against it _à priori'_. we sauntered after dinner in sir alexander's garden, and saw his little grotto, which is hung with pieces of poetry written in a fair hand. it was agreeable to observe the contentment and kindness of this quiet, benevolent man. professor macleod was brother to macleod of talisker, and brother-in-law to the laird of col. he gave me a letter to young col. i was weary of this day, and began to think wishfully of being again in motion. i was uneasy to think myself too fastidious, whilst i fancied dr. johnson quite satisfied. but he owned to me that he was fatigued and teased by sir alexander's doing too much to entertain him. i said, it was all kindness. johnson. 'true, sir; but sensation is sensation.' boswell. 'it is so: we feel pain equally from the surgeon's probe, as from the sword of the foe.' we visited two booksellers' shops, and could not find arthur johnston's poems'[ ]. we went and sat near an hour at mr. riddoch's. he could not tell distinctly how much education at the college here costs[ ], which disgusted dr. johnson. i had pledged myself that we should go to the inn, and not stay supper. they pressed us, but he was resolute. i saw mr. riddoch did not please him. he said to me, afterwards, 'sir, he has no vigour in his talk.' but my friend should have considered that he himself was not in good humour; so that it was not easy to talk to his satisfaction. we sat contentedly at our inn. he then became merry, and observed how little we had either heard or said at aberdeen: that the aberdonians had not started a single _mawkin_ (the scottish word for hare) for us to pursue[ ]. tuesday, august . we set out about eight in the morning, and breakfasted at ellon. the landlady said to me, 'is not this the great doctor that is going about through the country?' i said, 'yes.' 'ay, (said she) we heard of him. i made an errand into the room on purpose to see him. there's something great in his appearance: it is a pleasure to have such a man in one's house; a man who does so much good. if i had thought of it, i would have shewn him a child of mine, who has had a lump on his throat for some time.' 'but, (said i,) he is not a doctor of physick.' 'is he an oculist?' said the landlord. 'no, (said i,) he is only a very learned man.' landlord. 'they say he is the greatest man in england, except lord mansfield[ ].' dr. johnson was highly entertained with this, and i do think he was pleased too. he said, 'i like the exception: to have called me the greatest man in england, would have been an unmeaning compliment: but the exception marked that the praise was in earnest: and, in _scotland_, the exception must be _lord mansfield_, or--_sir john pringle_[ ].' he told me a good story of dr. goldsmith. graham, who wrote _telemachus, a masque_[ ], was sitting one night with him and dr. johnson, and was half drunk. he rattled away to dr. johnson: 'you are a clever fellow, to be sure; but you cannot write an essay like addison, or verses like the rape of the lock.' at last he said[ ], '_doctor_, i should be happy to see you at eaton[ ].' 'i shall be glad to wait on you,' answered goldsmith. 'no, (said graham,) 'tis not you i mean, dr. _minor_; 'tis doctor _major_, there.' goldsmith was excessively hurt by this. he afterwards spoke of it himself. 'graham, (said he,) is a fellow to make one commit suicide.' we had received a polite invitation to slains castle. we arrived there just at three o'clock, as the bell for dinner was ringing. though, from its being just on the north-east ocean, no trees will grow here, lord errol has done all that can be done. he has cultivated his fields so as to bear rich crops of every kind, and he has made an excellent kitchen-garden, with a hot-house. i had never seen any of the family: but there had been a card of invitation written by the honourable charles boyd, the earl's brother[ ]. we were conducted into the house, and at the dining-room door were met by that gentleman, whom both of us at first took to be lord errol; but he soon corrected our mistake. my lord was gone to dine in the neighbourhood, at an entertainment given by mr. irvine of drum. lady errol received us politely, and was very attentive to us during the time of dinner. there was nobody at table but her ladyship, mr. boyd, and some of the children, their governour and governess. mr. boyd put dr. johnson in mind of having dined with him at cumming the quaker's[ ], along with a mr. hall and miss williams[ ]: this was a bond of connection between them. for me, mr. boyd's acquaintance with my father was enough. after dinner, lady errol favoured us with a sight of her young family, whom she made stand up in a row. there were six daughters and two sons. it was a very pleasing sight. dr. johnson proposed our setting out. mr. boyd said, he hoped we would stay all night; his brother would be at home in the evening, and would be very sorry if he missed us. mr. boyd was called out of the room. i was very desirous to stay in so comfortable a house, and i wished to see lord errol. dr johnson, however, was right in resolving to go, if we were not asked again, as it is best to err on the safe side in such cases, and to be sure that one is quite welcome. to my great joy, when mr. boyd returned, he told dr. johnson that it was lady errol who had called him out, and said that she would never let dr. johnson into the house again, if he went away that night; and that she had ordered the coach, to carry us to view a great curiosity on the coast, after which we should see the house. we cheerfully agreed. mr. boyd was engaged, in - , on the same side with many unfortunate mistaken noblemen and gentlemen. he escaped, and lay concealed for a year in the island of arran, the ancient territory of the boyds. he then went to france, and was about twenty years on the continent. he married a french lady, and now lived very comfortably at aberdeen, and was much at slains castle. he entertained us with great civility. he had a pompousness or formal plenitude in his conversation, which i did not dislike. dr. johnson said, 'there was too much elaboration in his talk.' it gave me pleasure to see him, a steady branch of the family, setting forth all its advantages with much zeal. he told us that lady errol was one of the most pious and sensible women in the island; had a good head, and as good a heart. he said, she did not use force or fear in educating her children. johnson. 'sir, she is wrong[ ]; i would rather have the rod to be the general terror to all, to make them learn, than tell a child if you do thus or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. the rod produces an effect which terminates in itself. a child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation, and comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make brothers and sisters hate each other.' during mr. boyd's stay in arran, he had found a chest of medical books, left by a surgeon there, and had read them till he acquired some skill in physick, in consequence of which he is often consulted by the poor. there were several here waiting for him as patients. we walked round the house till stopped by a cut made by the influx of the sea. the house is built quite upon the shore; the windows look upon the main ocean, and the king of denmark is lord errol's nearest neighbour on the north-east[ ]. we got immediately into the coach, and drove to _dunbui_, a rock near the shore, quite covered with sea-fowls; then to a circular bason of large extent, surrounded with tremendous rocks. on the quarter next the sea, there is a high arch in the rock, which the force of the tempest has driven out. this place is called _buchan's buller_, or the _buller of buchan_, and the country people call it the _pot_. mr. boyd said it was so called from the french _bouloir_. it may be more simply traced from _boiler_ in our own language. we walked round this monstrous cauldron. in some places, the rock is very narrow; and on each side there is a sea deep enough for a man of war to ride in; so that it is somewhat horrid to move along. however, there is earth and grass upon the rock, and a kind of road marked out by the print of feet; so that one makes it out pretty safely: yet it alarmed me to see dr. johnson striding irregularly along. he insisted on taking a boat, and sailing into the pot. we did so. he was stout, and wonderfully alert. the buchan-men all shewing their teeth, and speaking with that strange sharp accent which distinguishes them, was to me a matter of curiosity. he was not sensible of the difference of pronunciation in the south and north of scotland, which i wondered at. as the entry into the _buller_ is so narrow that oars cannot be used as you go in, the method taken is, to row very hard when you come near it, and give the boat such a rapidity of motion that it glides in. dr. johnson observed what an effect this scene would have had, were we entering into an unknown place. there are caves of considerable depth; i think, one on each side. the boatmen had never entered either of them far enough to know the size. mr. boyd told us that it is customary for the company at peterhead well, to make parties, and come and dine in one of the caves here. he told us, that, as slains is at a considerable distance from aberdeen, lord errol, who has a very large family, resolved to have a surgeon of his own. with this view he educated one of his tenant's sons, who is now settled in a very neat house and farm just by, which we saw from the road. by the salary which the earl allows him, and the practice which he has had, he is in very easy circumstances. he had kept an exact account of all that had been laid out on his education, and he came to his lordship one day, and told him that he had arrived at a much higher situation than ever he expected; that he was now able to repay what his lordship had advanced, and begged he would accept of it. the earl was pleased with the generous gratitude and genteel offer of the man; but refused it. mr. boyd also told us, cumming the quaker first began to distinguish himself by writing against dr. leechman on prayer[ ], to prove it unnecessary, as god knows best what should be, and will order it without our asking:--the old hackneyed objection. when we returned to the house we found coffee and tea in the drawing-room. lady errol was not there, being, as i supposed, engaged with her young family. there is a bow-window fronting the sea. dr. johnson repeated the ode, _jam satis terris_[ ], while mr. boyd was with his patients. he spoke well in favour of entails[ ], to preserve lines of men whom mankind are accustomed to reverence. his opinion was that so much land should be entailed as that families should never fall into contempt, and as much left free as to give them all the advantages of property in case of any emergency. 'if (said he,) the nobility are suffered to sink into indigence[ ], they of course become corrupt; they are ready to do whatever the king chooses; therefore it is fit they should be kept from becoming poor, unless it is fixed that when they fall below a certain standard of wealth they shall lose their peerages[ ]. we know the house of peers have made noble stands, when the house of commons durst not. the two last years of parliament they dare not contradict the populace[ ].' this room is ornamented with a number of fine prints, and with a whole length picture of lord errol, by sir joshua reynolds. this led dr. johnson and me to talk of our amiable and elegant friend, whose panegyrick he concluded by saying, 'sir joshua reynolds, sir, is the most invulnerable man i know; the man with whom if you should quarrel, you would find the most difficulty how to abuse[ ].' dr. johnson observed, the situation here was the noblest he had ever seen,--better than mount edgecumbe, reckoned the first in england; because, at mount edgecumbe[ ], the sea is bounded by land on the other side, and though there is there the grandeur of a fleet, there is also the impression of there being a dock-yard, the circumstances of which are not agreeable. at slains is an excellent old house. the noble owner has built of brick, along the square in the inside, a gallery, both on the first and second story, the house being no higher; so that he has always a dry walk, and the rooms, to which formerly there was no approach but through each other, have now all separate entries from the gallery, which is hung with hogarth's works, and other prints. we went and sat a while in the library. there is a valuable numerous collection. it was chiefly made by mr. falconer, husband to the late countess of errol in her own right. this earl has added a good many modern books. about nine the earl came home. captain gordon of park was with him. his lordship put dr. johnson in mind of their having dined together in london, along with mr. beauclerk. i was exceedingly pleased with lord errol. his dignified person and agreeable countenance, with the most unaffected affability, give me high satisfaction. from perhaps a weakness, or, as i rather hope, more fancy and warmth of feeling than is quite reasonable, my mind is ever impressed with admiration for persons of high birth, and i could, with the most perfect honesty, expatiate on lord errol's good qualities; but he stands in no need of my praise. his agreeable manners and softness of address prevented that constraint which the idea of his being lord high constable of scotland[ ] might otherwise have occasioned. he talked very easily and sensibly with his learned guest. i observed that dr. johnson, though he shewed that respect to his lordship, which, from principle, he always does to high rank, yet, when they came to argument, maintained that manliness which becomes the force and vigour of his understanding. to shew external deference to our superiors, is proper: to seem to yield to them in opinion, is meanness[ ]. the earl said grace, both before and after supper, with much decency. he told us a story of a man who was executed at perth, some years ago, for murdering a woman who was with child by him, and a former child he had by her. his hand was cut off: he was then pulled up; but the rope broke, and he was forced to lie an hour on the ground, till another rope was brought from perth, the execution being in a wood at some distance,--at the place where the murders were committed. _'there_,(said my lord,) _i see the hand of providence_.' i was really happy here. i saw in this nobleman the best dispositions and best principles; and i saw him, _in my mind's eye_[ ], to be the representative of the ancient boyds of kilmarnock. i was afraid he might have urged drinking, as, i believe, he used formerly to do; but he drank port and water out of a large glass himself, and let us do as we pleased[ ]. he went with us to our rooms at night; said, he took the visit very kindly; and told me, my father and he were very old acquaintance;--that i now knew the way to slains, and he hoped to see me there again. i had a most elegant room; but there was a fire in it which blazed; and the sea, to which my windows looked, roared; and the pillows were made of the feathers of some sea-fowl, which had to me a disagreeable smell; so that, by all these causes, i was kept awake a good while. i saw, in imagination, lord errol's father, lord kilmarnock[ ] (who was beheaded on tower-hill in ), and i was somewhat dreary. but the thought did not last long, and i fell asleep. wednesday, august . we got up between seven and eight, and found mr. boyd in the dining-room, with tea and coffee before him, to give us breakfast. we were in an admirable humour. lady errol had given each of us a copy of an ode by beattie, on the birth of her son, lord hay. mr. boyd asked dr. johnson how he liked it. dr. johnson, who did not admire it, got off very well, by taking it out, and reading the second and third stanzas of it with much melody. this, without his saying a word, pleased mr. boyd. he observed, however, to dr. johnson, that the expression as to the family of errol, 'a thousand years have seen it shine,' compared with what went before, was an anticlimax, and that it would have been better 'ages have seen,' &c. dr. johnson said, 'so great a number as a thousand is better. _dolus latet in universalibus_. ages might be only two ages.' he talked of the advantage of keeping up the connections of relationship, which produce much kindness. 'every man (said he,) who comes into the world, has need of friends. if he has to get them for himself, half his life is spent before his merit is known. relations are a man's ready friends who support him. when a man is in real distress, he flies into the arms of his relations. an old lawyer, who had much experience in making wills, told me, that after people had deliberated long, and thought of many for their executors, they settled at last by fixing on their relations. this shews the universality of the principle.' i regretted the decay of respect for men of family, and that a nabob now would carry an election from them. johnson. 'why, sir, the nabob will carry it by means of his wealth, in a country where money is highly valued, as it must be where nothing can be had without money; but, if it comes to personal preference, the man of family will always carry it[ ]. there is generally a _scoundrelism_ about a low man[ ].' mr. boyd said, that was a good _ism_. i said, i believed mankind were happier in the ancient feudal state[ ] of subordination, than they are in the modern state of independency. johnson. 'to be sure, the _chief_ was: but we must think of the number of individuals. that _they_ were less happy, seems plain; for that state from which all escape as soon as they can, and to which none return after they have left it, must be less happy; and this is the case with the state of dependance on a chief or great man.' i mentioned the happiness of the french in their subordination, by the reciprocal benevolence and attachment between the great and those in lower rank[ ]. mr. boyd gave us an instance of their gentlemanly spirit. an old chevalier de malthe, of ancient _noblesse_, but in low circumstances, was in a coffee-house at paris, where was julien, the great manufacturer at the gobelins, of the fine tapestry, so much distinguished both for the figures and the _colours_. the chevalier's carriage was very old. says julien, with a plebeian insolence, 'i think, sir, you had better have your carriage new painted.' the chevalier looked at him with indignant contempt, and answered, 'well, sir, you may take it home and _dye_ it!' all the coffee-house rejoiced at julien's confusion. we set out about nine. dr. johnson was curious to see one of those structures which northern antiquarians call a druid's temple. i had a recollection of one at strichen; which i had seen fifteen years ago; so we went four miles out of our road, after passing old deer, and went thither. mr. fraser, the proprietor, was at home, and shewed it to us. but i had augmented it in my mind; for all that remains is two stones set up on end, with a long one laid upon them, as was usual, and one stone at a little distance from them. that stone was the capital one of the circle which surrounded what now remains. mr. fraser was very hospitable[ ]. there was a fair at strichen; and he had several of his neighbours from it at dinner. one of them, dr. fraser, who had been in the army, remembered to have seen dr. johnson at a lecture on experimental philosophy, at lichfield. the doctor recollected being at the lecture; and he was surprised to find here somebody who knew him. mr. fraser sent a servant to conduct us by a short passage into the high-road. i observed to dr. johnson, that i had a most disagreeable notion of the life of country gentlemen; that i left mr. fraser just now, as one leaves a prisoner in a jail. dr. johnson said, that i was right in thinking them unhappy; for that they had not enough to keep their minds in motion[ ]. i started a thought this afternoon which amused us a great part of the way. 'if, (said i,) our club should come and set up in st. andrews, as a college, to teach all that each of us can, in the several departments of learning and taste, we should rebuild the city: we should draw a wonderful concourse of students.' dr. johnson entered fully into the spirit of this project. we immediately fell to distributing the offices. i was to teach civil and scotch law[ ]; burke, politicks and eloquence; garrick, the art of publick speaking; langton was to be our grecian[ ], colman our latin professor[ ]; nugent to teach physick[ ]; lord charlemont, modern history[ ]; beauclerk, natural philosophy[ ]; vesey, irish antiquities, or celtick learning[ ]; jones, oriental learning[ ]; goldsmith, poetry and ancient history; chamier, commercial politicks[ ]; reynolds, painting, and the arts which have beauty for their object; chambers, the law of england[ ]. dr. johnson at first said, 'i'll trust theology to nobody but myself.' but, upon due consideration, that percy is a clergyman, it was agreed that percy should teach practical divinity and british antiquities; dr. johnson himself, logick, metaphysicks[ ], and scholastick divinity. in this manner did we amuse ourselves;--each suggesting, and each varying or adding, till the whole was adjusted. dr. johnson said, we only wanted a mathematician since dyer[ ] died, who was a very good one; but as to every thing else, we should have a very capital university[ ]. we got at night to banff. i sent joseph on to duff-house; but earl fife was not at home, which i regretted much, as we should have had a very elegant reception from his lordship. we found here but an indifferent inn[ ]. dr. johnson wrote a long letter to mrs. thrale. i wondered to see him write so much so easily. he verified his own doctrine that 'a man may always write when he will set himself _doggedly_ to it[ ].' thursday, august . we got a fresh chaise here, a very good one, and very good horses. we breakfasted at cullen. they set down dried haddocks broiled, along with our tea. i ate one; but dr. johnson was disgusted by the sight of them, so they were removed[ ]. cullen has a comfortable appearance, though but a very small town, and the houses mostly poor buildings. i called on mr. robertson, who has the charge of lord findlater's affairs, and was formerly lord monboddo's clerk, was three times in france with him, and translated condamine's _account of the savage girl_, to which his lordship wrote a preface, containing several remarks of his own. robertson said, he did not believe so much as his lordship did; that it was plain to him, the girl confounded what she imagined with what she remembered: that, besides, she perceived condamine and lord monboddo forming theories, and she adapted her story to them. dr. johnson said, 'it is a pity to see lord monboddo publish such notions as he has done; a man of sense, and of so much elegant learning. there would be little in a fool doing it; we should only laugh; but when a wise man does it, we are sorry. other people have strange notions; but they conceal them. if they have tails, they hide them; but monboddo is as jealous of his tail as a squirrel.' i shall here put down some more remarks of dr. johnson's on lord monboddo, which were not made exactly at this time, but come in well from connection. he said, he did not approve of a judge's calling himself _farmer_ burnett[ ], and going about with a little round hat[ ]. he laughed heartily at his lordship's saying he was an _enthusiastical_ farmer; 'for, (said he,) what can he do in farming by his _enthusiasm_?' here, however, i think dr. johnson mistaken. he who wishes to be successful, or happy, ought to be enthusiastical, that is to say, very keen in all the occupations or diversions of life. an ordinary gentleman-farmer will be satisfied with looking at his fields once or twice a day: an enthusiastical farmer will be constantly employed on them; will have his mind earnestly engaged; will talk perpetually, of them. but dr. johnson has much of the _nil admirari_[ ] in smaller concerns. that survey of life which gave birth to his _vanity of human wishes_ early sobered his mind. besides, so great a mind as his cannot be moved by inferior objects: an elephant does not run and skip like lesser animals. mr. robertson sent a servant with us, to shew us through lord findlater's wood, by which our way was shortened, and we saw some part of his domain, which is indeed admirably laid out. dr. johnson did not choose to walk through it. he always said, that he was not come to scotland to see fine places, of which there were enough in england; but wild objects,--mountains, --waterfalls,--peculiar manners; in short, things which he had not seen before. i have a notion that he at no time has had much taste for rural beauties. i have myself very little[ ]. dr. johnson said, there was nothing more contemptible than a country gentleman living beyond his income, and every year growing poorer and poorer[ ]. he spoke strongly of the influence which a man has by being rich. 'a man, (said he,) who keeps his money, has in reality more use from it, than he can have by spending it.' i observed that this looked very like a paradox; but he explained it thus: 'if it were certain that a man would keep his money locked up for ever, to be sure he would have no influence; but, as so many want money, and he has the power of giving it, and they know not but by gaining his favour they may obtain it, the rich man will always have the greatest influence. he again who lavishes his money, is laughed at as foolish, and in a great degree with justice, considering how much is spent from vanity. even those who partake of a man's hospitality, have but a transient kindness for him. if he has not the command of money, people know he cannot help them, if he would; whereas the rich man always can, if he will, and for the chance of that, will have much weight.' boswell. 'but philosophers and satirists have all treated a miser as contemptible.' johnson. 'he is so philosophically; but not in the practice of life[ ].' boswell. 'let me see now:--i do not know the instances of misers in england, so as to examine into their influence.' johnson. 'we have had few misers in england.' boswell. 'there was lowther[ ].' johnson. 'why, sir, lowther, by keeping his money, had the command of the county, which the family has now lost, by spending it[ ]; i take it he lent a great deal; and that is the way to have influence, and yet preserve one's wealth. a man may lend his money upon very good security, and yet have his debtor much under his power.' boswell. 'no doubt, sir. he can always distress him for the money; as no man borrows, who is able to pay on demand quite conveniently.' we dined at elgin, and saw the noble ruins of the cathedral. though it rained much, dr. johnson examined them with a most patient attention. he could not here feel any abhorrence at the scottish reformers[ ], for he had been told by lord hailes, that it was destroyed before the reformation, by the lord of badenoch[ ], who had a quarrel with the bishop. the bishop's house, and those of the other clergy, which are still pretty entire, do not seem to have been proportioned to the magnificence of the cathedral, which has been of great extent, and had very fine carved work. the ground within the walls of the cathedral is employed as a burying-place. the family of gordon have their vault here; but it has nothing grand. we passed gordon castle[ ] this forenoon, which has a princely appearance. fochabers, the neighbouring village, is a poor place, many of the houses being ruinous; but it is remarkable, they have in general orchards well stored with apple-trees[ ]. elgin has what in england are called piazzas, that run in many places on each side of the street. it must have been a much better place formerly. probably it had piazzas all along the town, as i have seen at bologna. i approved much of such structures in a town, on account of their conveniency in wet weather. dr. johnson disapproved of them, 'because (said he) it makes the under story of a house very dark, which greatly over-balances the conveniency, when it is considered how small a part of the year it rains; how few are usually in the street at such times; that many who are might as well be at home; and the little that people suffer, supposing them to be as much wet as they commonly are in walking a street.' we fared but ill at our inn here; and dr. johnson said, this was the first time he had seen a dinner in scotland that he could not eat[ ]. in the afternoon, we drove over the very heath where macbeth met the witches, according to tradition[ ]. dr. johnson again[ ] solemnly repeated-- 'how far is't called to fores? what are these, so wither'd, and so wild in their attire? that look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, and yet are on't?' he repeated a good deal more of macbeth. his recitation[ ] was grand and affecting, and as sir joshua reynolds has observed to me, had no more tone than it should have: it was the better for it. he then parodied the _all-hail_ of the witches to macbeth, addressing himself to me. i had purchased some land called _dalblair_; and, as in scotland it is customary to distinguish landed men by the name of their estates, i had thus two titles, _dalblair_ and young _auchinleck_. so my friend, in imitation of 'all hail, macbeth! hail to thee, thane of cawdor!' condescended to amuse himself with uttering 'all hail, dalblair! hail to thee, laird of auchinleck[ ]!' we got to fores[ ] at night, and found an admirable inn, in which dr. johnson was pleased to meet with a landlord who styled himself 'wine-cooper, from london.' friday, august . it was dark when we came to fores last night; so we did not see what is called king duncan's monument[ ]. i shall now mark some gleanings of dr. johnson's conversation. i spoke of _leonidas_[ ], and said there were some good passages in it. johnson. 'why, you must _seek_ for them.' he said, paul whitehead's _manners_[ ] was a poor performance. speaking of derrick, he told me 'he had a kindness for him, and had often said, that if his letters had been written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought very pretty letters[ ].' this morning i introduced the subject of the origin of evil[ ]. johnson. 'moral evil is occasioned by free will, which implies choice between good and evil. with all the evil that there is, there is no man but would rather be a free agent, than a mere machine without the evil; and what is best for each individual, must be best for the whole. if a man would rather be the machine, i cannot argue with him. he is a different being from me.' boswell. 'a man, as a machine, may have agreeable sensations; for instance, he may have pleasure in musick.' johnson. 'no, sir, he cannot have pleasure in musick; at least no power of producing musick; for he who can produce musick may let it alone: he who can play upon a fiddle may break it: such a man is not a machine.' this reasoning satisfied me. it is certain, there cannot be a free agent, unless there is the power of being evil as well as good. we must take the inherent possibilities of things into consideration, in our reasonings or conjectures concerning the works of god. we came to nairn to breakfast. though a county town and a royal burgh, it is a miserable place. over the room where we sat, a girl was spinning wool with a great wheel, and singing an erse song[ ]: 'i'll warrant you, (said dr. johnson.) one of the songs of ossian.' he then repeated these lines:--- 'verse sweetens toil, however rude the sound. all at her work the village maiden sings; nor while she turns the giddy wheel around, revolves the sad vicissitude of things[ ].' i thought i had heard these lines before. johnson. 'i fancy not, sir; for they are in a detached poem, the name of which i do not remember, written by one giffard, a parson.' i expected mr. kenneth m'aulay[ ], the minister of calder, who published the history of st. kilda[ ], a book which dr. johnson liked, would have met us here, as i had written to him from aberdeen. but i received a letter from him, telling me that he could not leave home, as he was to administer the sacrament the following sunday, and earnestly requesting to see us at his manse. 'we'll go,' said dr. johnson; which we accordingly did. mrs. m'aulay received us, and told us her husband was in the church distributing tokens[ ]. we arrived between twelve and one o'clock, and it was near three before he came to us. dr. johnson thanked him for his book, and said 'it was a very pretty piece of topography.' m'aulay did not seem much to mind the compliment. from his conversation, dr. johnson was persuaded that he had not written the book which goes under his name. i myself always suspected so; and i have been told it was written by the learned dr. john m'pherson of sky[ ], from the materials collected by m'aulay. dr. johnson said privately to me, 'there is a combination in it of which m'aulay is not capable[ ].' however, he was exceedingly hospitable; and, as he obligingly promised us a route for our tour through the western isles, we agreed to stay with him all night. after dinner, we walked to the old castle of calder (pronounced cawder), the thane of cawdor's seat. i was sorry that my friend, this 'prosperous gentleman[ ],' was not there. the old tower must be of great antiquity[ ]. there is a draw-bridge--what has been a moat,--and an ancient court. there is a hawthorn-tree, which rises like a wooden pillar through the rooms of the castle; for, by a strange conceit, the walls have been built round it. the thickness of the walls, the small slaunting windows, and a great iron door at the entrance on the second story as you ascend the stairs, all indicate the rude times in which this castle was erected. there were here some large venerable trees. i was afraid of a quarrel between dr. johnson and mr. m'aulay, who talked slightingly of the lower english clergy. the doctor gave him a frowning look, and said, 'this is a day of novelties; i have seen old trees in scotland, and i have heard the english clergy treated with disrespect[ ].' i dreaded that a whole evening at calder manse would be heavy; however, mr. grant, an intelligent and well-bred minister in the neighbourhood, was there, and assisted us by his conversation. dr. johnson, talking of hereditary occupations in the highlands, said, 'there is no harm in such a custom as this; but it is wrong to enforce it, and oblige a man to be a taylor or a smith, because his father has been one.' this custom, however, is not peculiar to our highlands; it is well known that in india a similar practice prevails. mr. m'aulay began a rhapsody against creeds and confessions. dr. johnson shewed, that 'what he called _imposition_, was only a voluntary declaration of agreement in certain articles of faith, which a church has a right to require, just as any other society can insist on certain rules being observed by its members. nobody is compelled to be of the church, as nobody is compelled to enter into a society.' this was a very clear and just view of the subject: but, m'aulay could not be driven out of his track. dr. johnson said, 'sir, you are a _bigot to laxness_.' mr. m'aulay and i laid the map of scotland before us; and he pointed out a route for us from inverness, by fort augustus, to glenelg, sky, mull, icolmkill, lorn, and inverary, which i wrote down. as my father was to begin the northern circuit about the th of september, it was necessary for us either to make our tour with great expedition, so as to get to auchinleck before he set out, or to protract it, so as not to be there till his return, which would be about the th of october. by m'aulay's calculation, we were not to land in lorn till the oth of september. i thought that the interruptions by bad days, or by occasional excursions, might make it ten days later; and i thought too, that we might perhaps go to benbecula, and visit clanranald, which would take a week of itself. dr. johnson went up with mr. grant to the library, which consisted of a tolerable collection; but the doctor thought it rather a lady's library, with some latin books in it by chance, than the library of a clergyman. it had only two of the latin fathers, and one of the greek fathers in latin. i doubted whether dr. johnson would be present at a presbyterian prayer. i told mr. m'aulay so, and said that the doctor might sit in the library while we were at family worship. mr. m'aulay said, he would omit it, rather than give dr. johnson offence: but i would by no means agree that an excess of politeness, even to so great a man, should prevent what i esteem as one of the best pious regulations. i know nothing more beneficial, more comfortable, more agreeable, than that the little societies of each family should regularly assemble, and unite in praise and prayer to our heavenly father, from whom we daily receive so much good, and may hope for more in a higher state of existence. i mentioned to dr. johnson the over-delicate scrupulosity of our host. he said, he had no objection to hear the prayer. this was a pleasing surprise to me; for he refused to go and hear principal robertson[ ] preach. 'i will hear him, (said he,) if he will get up into a tree and preach; but i will not give a sanction, by my presence, to a presbyterian assembly[ ].' mr. grant having prayed, dr. johnson said, his prayer was a very good one; but objected to his not having introduced the lord's prayer[ ]. he told us, that an italian of some note in london said once to him, 'we have in our service a prayer called the _pater noster_, which is a very fine composition. i wonder who is the author of it.' a singular instance of ignorance in a man of some literature and general inquiry[ ]! saturday, august . dr. johnson had brought a _sallust_ with him in his pocket from edinburgh. he gave it last night to mr. m'aulay's son, a smart young lad about eleven years old. dr. johnson had given an account of the education at oxford, in all its gradations. the advantage of being a servitor to a youth of little fortune struck mrs. m'aulay much[ ]. i observed it aloud. dr. johnson very handsomely and kindly said, that, if they would send their boy to him, when he was ready for the university, he would get him made a servitor, and perhaps would do more for him. he could not promise to do more; but would undertake for the servitorship[ ]. i should have mentioned that mr. white, a welshman, who has been many years factor (i.e. steward) on the estate of calder, drank tea with us last night, and upon getting a note from mr. m'aulay, asked us to his house. we had not time to accept of his invitation. he gave us a letter of introduction to mr. ferne, master of stores at fort george. he shewed it to me. it recommended 'two celebrated gentlemen; no less than dr. johnson, _author of his dictionary_,--and mr. boswell, known at edinburgh by the name of paoli.' he said he hoped i had no objection to what he had written; if i had, he would alter it. i thought it was a pity to check his effusions, and acquiesced; taking care, however, to seal the letter, that it might not appear that i had read it. a conversation took place about saying grace at breakfast (as we do in scotland) as well as at dinner and supper; in which dr. johnson said, 'it is enough if we have stated seasons of prayer; no matter when[ ]. a man may as well pray when he mounts his horse, or a woman when she milks her cow, (which mr. grant told us is done in the highlands,) as at meals; and custom is to be followed[ ].' we proceeded to fort george. when we came into the square, i sent a soldier with the letter to mr. ferne. he came to us immediately, and along with him came major _brewse_ of the engineers, pronounced _bruce_. he said he believed it was originally the same norman name with bruce. that he had dined at a house in london, where were three bruces, one of the irish line, one of the scottish line, and himself of the english line. he said he was shewn it in the herald's office spelt fourteen different ways[ ]. i told him the different spellings of my name[ ]. dr johnson observed, that there had been great disputes about the spelling of shakspear's name; at last it was thought it would be settled by looking at the original copy of his will; but, upon examining it, he was found to have written it himself no less than three different ways. mr. ferne and major brewse first carried us to wait on sir eyre coote[ ], whose regiment, the th, was lying here, and who then commanded the fort. he asked us to dine with him, which we agreed to do. before dinner we examined the fort. the major explained the fortification to us, and mr. ferne gave us an account of the stores. dr. johnson talked of the proportions of charcoal and salt-petre in making gunpowder, of granulating it, and of giving it a gloss[ ]. he made a very good figure upon these topicks. he said to me afterwards, that 'he had talked _ostentatiously_[ ].' we reposed ourselves a little in mr. ferne's house. he had every thing in neat order as in england; and a tolerable collection of books. i looked into pennant's _tour in scotland_. he says little of this fort; but that 'the barracks, &c. form several streets[ ].' this is aggrandising. mr. ferne observed, if he had said they form a square, with a row of buildings before it, he would have given a juster description. dr. johnson remarked, 'how seldom descriptions correspond with realities; and the reason is, that people do not write them till some time after, and then their imagination has added circumstances.' we talked of sir adolphus oughton[ ]. the major said, he knew a great deal for a military man. johnson. 'sir, you will find few men, of any profession, who know more. sir adolphus is a very extraordinary man; a man of boundless curiosity and unwearied diligence.' i know not how the major contrived to introduce the contest between warburton and lowth. johnson. 'warburton kept his temper all along, while lowth was in a passion. lowth published some of warburton's letters. warburton drew _him_ on to write some very abusive letters, and then asked his leave to publish them; which he knew lowth could not refuse, after what _he_ had done. so that warburton contrived that he should publish, apparently with lowth's consent, what could not but shew lowth in a disadvantageous light[ ].' at three the drum beat for dinner. i, for a little while, fancied myself a military man, and it pleased me. we went to sir eyre coote's, at the governour's house, and found him a most gentleman-like man. his lady is a very agreeable woman, with an uncommonly mild and sweet tone of voice. there was a pretty large company: mr. ferne, major brewse, and several officers. sir eyre had come from the east-indies by land, through the desarts of arabia. he told us, the arabs could live five days without victuals, and subsist for three weeks on nothing else but the blood of their camels, who could lose so much of it as would suffice for that time, without being exhausted. he highly praised the virtue of the arabs; their fidelity, if they undertook to conduct any person; and said, they would sacrifice their lives rather than let him be robbed. dr. johnson, who is always for maintaining the superiority of civilized over uncivilized men[ ], said, 'why, sir, i can see no superiour virtue in this. a serjeant and twelve men, who are my guard, will die, rather than that i shall be robbed.' colonel pennington, of the th regiment, took up the argument with a good deal of spirit and ingenuity. pennington. 'but the soldiers are compelled to this by fear of punishment. 'johnson. 'well, sir, the arabs are compelled by the fear of infamy.' pennington. 'the soldiers have the same fear of infamy, and the fear of punishment besides; so have less virtue; because they act less voluntarily.' lady coote observed very well, that it ought to be known if there was not, among the arabs, some punishment for not being faithful on such occasions. we talked of the stage. i observed, that we had not now such a company of actors as in the last age; wilks[ ], booth[ ], &c. &c. johnson. 'you think so, because there is one who excels all the rest so much: you compare them with garrick, and see the deficiency. garrick's great distinction is his universality[ ]. he can represent all modes of life, but that of an easy fine bred gentleman[ ].' pennington. 'he should give over playing young parts.' johnson. 'he does not take them now; but he does not leave off those which he has been used to play, because he does them better than any one else can do them. if you had generations of actors, if they swarmed like bees, the young ones might drive off the old. mrs. cibber[ ], i think, got more reputation than she deserved, as she had a great sameness; though her expression was undoubtedly very fine. mrs. clive[ ] was the best player i ever saw. mrs. prichard[ ] was a very good one; but she had something affected in her manner: i imagine she had some player of the former age in her eye, which occasioned it.' colonel pennington said, garrick sometimes failed in emphasis[ ]; as for instance, in _hamlet_, 'i will speak _daggers_ to her; but use _none_[ ].' instead of 'i will _speak_ daggers to her; but _use_ none.' we had a dinner of two complete courses, variety of wines, and the regimental band of musick playing in the square, before the windows, after it. i enjoyed this day much. we were quite easy and cheerful. dr. johnson said, 'i shall always remember this fort with gratitude.' i could not help being struck with some admiration, at finding upon this barren sandy point, such buildings,--such a dinner,--such company: it was like enchantment. dr. johnson, on the other hand, said to me more rationally, that 'it did not strike _him_ as any thing extraordinary; because he knew, here was a large sum of money expended in building a fort; here was a regiment. if there had been less than what we found, it would have surprised him.' _he_ looked coolly and deliberately through all the gradations: my warm imagination jumped from the barren sands to the splendid dinner and brilliant company, to borrow the expression of an absurd poet, 'without ands or ifs, i leapt from off the sands upon the cliffs.' the whole scene gave me a strong impression of the power and excellence of human art. we left the fort between six and seven o'clock: sir eyre coote, colonel pennington, and several more accompanied us down stairs, and saw us into our chaise. there could not be greater attention paid to any visitors. sir eyre spoke of the hardships which dr. johnson had before him. boswell. 'considering what he has said of us, we must make him feel something rough in scotland.' sir eyre said to him, 'you must change your name, sir.' boswell. 'ay, to dr. m'gregor[ ].' we got safely to inverness, and put up at mackenzie's inn. mr. keith, the collector of excise here, my old acquaintance at ayr, who had seen us at the fort, visited us in the evening, and engaged us to dine with him next day, promising to breakfast with us, and take us to the english chapel; so that we were at once commodiously arranged. not finding a letter here that i expected, i felt a momentary impatience to be at home. transient clouds darkened my imagination, and in those clouds i saw events from which i shrunk; but a sentence or two of the _rambler's_ conversation gave me firmness, and i considered that i was upon an expedition for which i had wished for years, and the recollection of which would be a treasure to me for life. sunday, august . mr. keith breakfasted with us. dr. johnson expatiated rather too strongly upon the benefits derived to scotland from the union[ ], and the bad state of our people before it. i am entertained with his copious exaggeration upon that subject; but i am uneasy when people are by, who do not know him as well as i do, and may be apt to think him narrow-minded[ ]. i therefore diverted the subject. the english chapel, to which we went this morning, was but mean. the altar was a bare fir table, with a coarse stool for kneeling on, covered with a piece of thick sail-cloth doubled, by way of cushion. the congregation was small. mr. tait, the clergyman, read prayers very well, though with much of the scotch accent. he preached on '_love your enemies_[ ].' it was remarkable that, when talking of the connections amongst men, he said, that some connected themselves with men of distinguished talents, and since they could not equal them, tried to deck themselves with their merit, by being their companions. the sentence was to this purpose. it had an odd coincidence with what might be said of my connecting myself with dr. johnson[ ]. after church we walked down to the quay. we then went to macbeth's castle[ ]. i had a romantick satisfaction in seeing dr. johnson actually in it. it perfectly corresponds with shakspear's description, which sir joshua reynolds has so happily illustrated, in one of his notes on our immortal poet[ ]: 'this castle hath a pleasant seat: the air nimbly and sweetly recommends itself unto our gentle sense,' &c.[ ] just as we came out of it, a raven perched on one of the chimney-tops, and croaked. then i repeated '----the raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan under my battlements[ ].' we dined at mr. keith's. mrs. keith was rather too attentive to dr. johnson, asking him many questions about his drinking only water. he repressed that observation, by saying to me, 'you may remember that lady errol took no notice of this.' dr. johnson has the happy art (for which i have heard my father praise the old earl of aberdeen) of instructing himself, by making every man he meets tell him something of what he knows best. he led keith to talk to him of the excise in scotland, and, in the course of conversation, mentioned that his friend mr. thrale, the great brewer, paid twenty thousand pounds a year to the revenue; and that he had four casks, each of which holds sixteen hundred barrels,--above a thousand hogsheads. after this there was little conversation that deserves to be remembered. i shall therefore here again glean what i have omitted on former days. dr. gerrard, at aberdeen, told us, that when he was in wales, he was shewn a valley inhabited by danes, who still retain their own language, and are quite a distinct people. dr. johnson thought it could not be true, or all the kingdom must have heard of it. he said to me, as we travelled, 'these people, sir, that gerrard talks of, may have somewhat of a _peregrinity_ in their dialect, which relation has augmented to a different language.' i asked him if _peregrinity_ was an english word: he laughed, and said, 'no.' i told him this was the second time that i had heard him coin a word[ ]. when foote broke his leg, i observed that it would make him fitter for taking off george faulkner as peter paragraph[ ], poor george having a wooden leg. dr. johnson at that time said, 'george will rejoice at the _depeditation_ of foote;' and when i challenged that word, laughed, and owned he had made it, and added that he had not made above three or four in his _dictionary_[ ]. having conducted dr. johnson to our inn, i begged permission to leave him for a little, that i might run about and pay some short visits to several good people of inverness. he said to me 'you have all the old-fashioned principles, good and bad' i acknowledge i have. that of attention to relations in the remotest degree, or to worthy persons, in every state whom i have once known, i inherit from my father. it gave me much satisfaction to hear every body at inverness speak of him with uncommon regard. mr. keith and mr. grant, whom we had seen at mr. m'aulay's, supped with us at the inn. we had roasted kid, which dr. johnson had never tasted before. he relished it much. monday, august . this day we were to begin our _equitation,_ as i said; for _i_ would needs make a word too. it is remarkable, that my noble, and to me most constant friend, the earl of pembroke[ ], (who, if there is too much ease on my part, will please to pardon what his benevolent, gay, social intercourse, and lively correspondence have insensibly produced,) has since hit upon the very same word. the title of the first edition of his lordship's very useful book was, in simple terms, _a method of breaking horses and teaching soldiers to ride._ the title of the second edition is, 'military equitation[ ].' we might have taken a chaise to fort augustus, but, had we not hired horses at inverness, we should not have found them afterwards: so we resolved to begin here to ride. we had three horses, for dr. johnson, myself, and joseph, and one which carried our portmanteaus, and two highlanders who walked along with us, john hay and lauchland vass, whom dr. johnson has remembered with credit in his journey[ ], though he has omitted their names. dr. johnson rode very well. about three miles beyond inverness, we saw, just by the road, a very complete specimen of what is called a druid's temple. there was a double circle, one of very large, the other of smaller stones. dr. johnson justly observed, that 'to go and see one druidical temple is only to see that it is nothing, for there is neither art nor power in it; and seeing one is quite enough.' it was a delightful day. lochness, and the road upon the side of it, shaded with birch trees, and the hills above it, pleased us much. the scene was as sequestered and agreeably wild as could be desired, and for a time engrossed all our attention[ ]. to see dr. johnson in any new situation is always an interesting object to me; and, as i saw him now for the first time on horseback, jaunting about at his ease in quest of pleasure and novelty, the very different occupations of his former laborious life, his admirable productions, his _london_, his _rambler_, &c. &c., immediately presented themselves to my mind, and the contrast made a strong impression on my imagination. when we had advanced a good way by the side of lochness, i perceived a little hut, with an old-looking woman at the door of it. i thought here might be a scene that would amuse dr. johnson; so i mentioned it to him. 'let's go in,' said he. we dismounted, and we and our guides entered the hut. it was a wretched little hovel of earth only, i think, and for a window had only a small hole, which was stopped with a piece of turf, that was taken out occasionally to let in light. in the middle of the room or space which we entered, was a fire of peat, the smoke going out at a hole in the roof. she had a pot upon it, with goat's flesh, boiling. there was at one end under the same roof, but divided by a kind of partition made of wattles, a pen or fold in which we saw a good many kids. dr. johnson was curious to know where she slept. i asked one of the guides, who questioned her in erse. she answered with a tone of emotion, saying, (as he told us,) she was afraid we wanted to go to bed to her. this _coquetry_, or whatever it may be called, of so wretched a being, was truly ludicrous. dr. johnson and i afterwards were merry upon it. i said it was he who alarmed the poor woman's virtue. 'no, sir, (said he,) she'll say "there came a wicked young fellow, a wild dog, who i believe would have ravished me, had there not been with him a grave old gentleman, who repressed him: but when he gets out of the sight of his tutor, i'll warrant you he'll spare no woman he meets, young or old."' 'no, sir, (i replied,) she'll say, "there was a terrible ruffian who would have forced me, had it not been for a civil decent young man who, i take it, was an angel sent from heaven to protect me."' dr. johnson would not hurt her delicacy, by insisting on 'seeing her bed-chamber,' like _archer_ in the _beaux stratagem_[ ]. but my curiosity was more ardent; i lighted a piece of paper, and went into the place where the bed was. there was a little partition of wicker, rather more neatly done than that for the fold, and close by the wall was a kind of bedstead of wood with heath upon it by way of bed! at the foot of which i saw some sort of blankets or covering rolled up in a heap. the woman's name was fraser; so was her husband's. he was a man of eighty. mr. fraser of balnain allows him to live in this hut, and keep sixty goats, for taking care of his woods, where he then was. they had five children, the eldest only thirteen. two were gone to inverness to buy meal[ ]; the rest were looking after the goats. this contented family had four stacks of barley, twenty-four sheaves in each. they had a few fowls. we were informed that they lived all the spring without meal, upon milk and curds and whey alone. what they get for their goats, kids, and fowls, maintains them during the rest of the year. she asked us to sit down and take a dram. i saw one chair. she said she was as happy as any woman in scotland. she could hardly speak any english except a few detached words. dr. johnson was pleased at seeing, for the first time, such a state of human life. she asked for snuff. it is her luxury, and she uses a great deal. we had none; but gave her sixpence a piece. she then brought out her whiskey bottle. i tasted it; as did joseph and our guides, so i gave her sixpence more. she sent us away with many prayers in erse. we dined at a publick house called the general's hut[ ], from general wade, who was lodged there when he commanded in the north. near it is the meanest parish _kirk_ i ever saw. it is a shame it should be on a high road. after dinner, we passed through a good deal of mountainous country. i had known mr. trapaud, the deputy governour of fort augustus, twelve years ago, at a circuit at inverness, where my father was judge. i sent forward one of our guides, and joseph, with a card to him, that he might know dr. johnson and i were coming up, leaving it to him to invite us or not[ ]. it was dark when we arrived. the inn was wretched. government ought to build one, or give the resident governour an additional salary; as in the present state of things, he must necessarily be put to a great expence in entertaining travellers. joseph announced to us, when we alighted, that the governour waited for us at the gate of the fort. we walked to it. he met us, and with much civility conducted us to his house. it was comfortable to find ourselves in a well-built little square, and a neatly furnished house, in good company, and with a good supper before us; in short, with all the conveniences of civilised life in the midst of rude mountains. mrs. trapaud, and the governour's daughter, and her husband, captain newmarsh, were all most obliging and polite. the governour had excellent animal spirits, the conversation of a soldier, and somewhat of a frenchman, to which his extraction entitles him. he is brother to general cyrus trapaud. we passed a very agreeable evening.[ ] tuesday, august . the governour has a very good garden. we looked at it, and at the rest of the fort, which is but small, and may be commanded from a variety of hills around. we also looked at the galley or sloop belonging to the fort, which sails upon the loch, and brings what is wanted for the garrison. captains urie and darippe, of the th regiment of foot, breakfasted with us. they had served in america, and entertained dr. johnson much with an account of the indians.[ ] he said, he could make a very pretty book out of them, were he to stay there. governour trapaud was much struck with dr. johnson. 'i like to hear him, (said he,) it is so majestick. i should be glad to hear him speak in your court.' he pressed us to stay dinner; but i considered that we had a rude road before us, which we could more easily encounter in the morning, and that it was hard to say when we might get up, were we to sit down to good entertainment, in good company: i therefore begged the governour would excuse us. here too, i had another very pleasing proof how much my father is regarded. the governour expressed the highest respect for him, and bade me tell him, that, if he would come that way on the northern circuit, he would do him all the honours of the garrison. between twelve and one we set out, and travelled eleven miles, through a wild country, till we came to a house in glenmorison, called _anoch_, kept by a mcqueen[ ]. our landlord was a sensible fellow; he had learned his grammar[ ], and dr. johnson justly observed, that 'a man is the better for that as long as he lives.' there were some books here: _a treatise against drunkenness_, translated from the french; a volume of _the spectator_; a volume of _prideaux's connection_, and _cyrus's travels_[ ]. mcqueen said he had more volumes; and his pride seemed to be much piqued that we were surprised at his having books. near to this place we had passed a party of soldiers, under a serjeant's command, at work upon the road. we gave them two shillings to drink. they came to our inn, and made merry in the barn. we went and paid them a visit, dr. johnson saying, 'come, let's go and give 'em another shilling a-piece.' we did so; and he was saluted 'my lord' by all of them. he is really generous, loves influence, and has the way of gaining it. he said, 'i am quite feudal, sir.' here i agree with him. i said, i regretted i was not the head of a clan; however, though not possessed of such an hereditary advantage, i would always endeavour to make my tenants follow me. i could not be a _patriarchal_ chief, but i would be a _feudal_ chief. the poor soldiers got too much liquor. some of them fought, and left blood upon the spot, and cursed whiskey next morning. the house here was built of thick turfs, and thatched with thinner turfs and heath. it had three rooms in length, and a little room which projected. where we sat, the side-walls were _wainscotted_, as dr. johnson said, with wicker, very neatly plaited. our landlord had made the whole with his own hands. after dinner, mcqueen sat by us a while, and talked with us. he said, all the laird of glenmorison's people would bleed for him if they were well used; but that seventy men had gone out of the glen to america. that he himself intended to go next year; for that the rent of his farm, which twenty years ago was only five pounds, was now raised to twenty pounds. that he could pay ten pounds and live; but no more.[ ] dr. johnson said, he wished m'queen laird of glenmorison, and the laird to go to america. m'queen very generously answered, he should be sorry for it; for the laird could not shift for himself in america as he could do. i talked of the officers whom we had left to-day; how much service they had seen, and how little they got for it, even of fame. johnson. 'sir, a soldier gets as little as any man can get.' boswell. 'goldsmith has acquired more fame than all the officers last war, who were not generals.'[ ] johnson. 'why, sir, you will find ten thousand fit to do what they did, before you find one who does what goldsmith has done. you must consider, that a thing is valued according to its rarity. a pebble that paves the street is in itself more useful than the diamond upon a lady's finger.' i wish our friend goldsmith had heard this.[ ] i yesterday expressed my wonder that john hay, one of our guides, who had been pressed aboard a man of war, did not choose to continue in it longer than nine months, after which time he got off. johnson. 'why, sir, no man will be a sailor, who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for, being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.'[ ] we had tea in the afternoon, and our landlord's daughter, a modest civil girl, very neatly drest, made it for us. she told us, she had been a year at inverness, and learnt reading and writing, sewing, knotting[ ], working lace, and pastry. dr. johnson made her a present of a book which he had bought at inverness[ ]. the room had some deals laid across the joists, as a kind of ceiling. there were two beds in the room, and a woman's gown was hung on a rope to make a curtain of separation between them. joseph had sheets, which my wife had sent with us, laid on them. we had much hesitation, whether to undress, or lie down with our clothes on. i said at last, 'i'll plunge in! there will be less harbour for vermin about me, when i am stripped!' dr. johnson said, he was like one hesitating whether to go into the cold bath. at last he resolved too. i observed he might serve a campaign. johnson. 'i could do all that can be done by patience: whether i should have strength enough, i know not.' he was in excellent humour. to see the rambler as i saw him to-night, was really an amusement. i yesterday told him, i was thinking of writing a poetical letter to him, _on his return from scotland_, in the style of swift's humorous epistle in the character of mary gulliver to her husband, captain lemuel gulliver, on his return to england from the country of the houyhnhums:-- 'at early morn i to the market haste, studious in ev'ry thing to please thy taste. a curious _fowl_ and _sparagrass_ i chose; (for i remember you were fond of those:) three shillings cost the first, the last sev'n groats; sullen you turn from both, and call for oats[ ]:' he laughed, and asked in whose name i would write it. i said, in mrs. thrale's. he was angry. 'sir, if you have any sense of decency or delicacy, you won't do that!' boswell. 'then let it be in cole's, the landlord of the _mitre tavern_; where we have so often sat together.' johnson. 'ay, that may do.' after we had offered up our private devotions, and had chatted a little from our beds, dr. johnson said, 'god bless us both, for jesus christ's sake! good night!' i pronounced 'amen.' he fell asleep immediately. i was not so fortunate for a long time. i fancied myself bit by innumerable vermin under the clothes; and that a spider was travelling from the _wainscot_ towards my mouth. at last i fell into insensibility. wednesday, september . i awaked very early. i began to imagine that the landlord, being about to emigrate, might murder us to get our money, and lay it upon the soldiers in the barn. such groundless fears will arise in the mind, before it has resumed its vigour after sleep! dr. johnson had had the same kind of ideas; for he told me afterwards, that he considered so many soldiers, having seen us, would be witnesses, should any harm be done, and that circumstance, i suppose, he considered as a security.[ ] when i got up, i found him sound asleep in his miserable _stye_, as i may call it, with a coloured handkerchief tied round his head. with difficulty could i awaken him. it reminded me of henry the fourth's fine soliloquy on sleep; for there was here as _uneasy a pallet_[ ] as the poet's imagination could possibly conceive. a _red coat_ of the th regiment, whether officer, or only serjeant, i could not be sure, came to the house, in his way to the mountains to shoot deer, which it seems the laird of glenmorison does not hinder any body to do. few, indeed, can do them harm. we had him to breakfast with us. we got away about eight. m'queen walked some miles to give us a convoy. he had, in , joined the highland army at fort augustus, and continued in it till after the battle of culloden. as he narrated the particulars of that ill-advised, but brave attempt, i could not refrain from tears. there is a certain association of ideas in my mind upon that subject, by which i am strongly affected. the very highland names, or the sound of a bagpipe, will stir my blood, and fill me with a mixture of melancholy and respect for courage; with pity for an unfortunate and superstitious regard for antiquity, and thoughtless inclination for war; in short, with a crowd of sensations with which sober rationality has nothing to do. we passed through glensheal, with prodigious mountains on each side. we saw where the battle was fought in the year .[ ] dr. johnson owned he was now in a scene of as wild nature as he could see; but he corrected me sometimes in my inaccurate observations. 'there, (said i,) is a mountain like a cone.' johnson. 'no, sir. it would be called so in a book; and when a man comes to look at it, he sees it is not so. it is indeed pointed at the top; but one side of it is larger than the other[ ].' another mountain i called immense. johnson. 'no; it is no more than a considerable protuberance.' we came to a rich green valley, comparatively speaking, and stopped a while to let our horses rest and eat grass[ ]. we soon afterwards came to auchnasheal, a kind of rural village, a number of cottages being built together, as we saw all along in the highlands. we passed many miles this day without seeing a house, but only little summer-huts, called _shielings_. evan campbell, servant to mr. murchison, factor to the laird of macleod in glenelg, ran along with us to-day. he was a very obliging fellow. at auchnasheal, we sat down on a green turf seat at the end of a house; they brought us out two wooden dishes of milk, which we tasted. one of them was frothed like a syllabub. i saw a woman preparing it with such a stick as is used for chocolate, and in the same manner. we had a considerable circle about us, men, women, and children, all m'craas, lord seaforth's people. not one of them could speak english. i observed to dr. johnson, it was much the same as being with a tribe of indians. johnson. 'yes, sir; but not so terrifying[ ].' i gave all who chose it, snuff and tobacco. governour trapaud had made us buy a quantity at fort augustus, and put them up in small parcels. i also gave each person a bit of wheat bread, which they had never tasted before. i then gave a penny apiece to each child. i told dr. johnson of this; upon which he called to joseph and our guides, for change for a shilling, and declared that he would distribute among the children. upon this being announced in erse, there was a great stir; not only did some children come running down from neighbouring huts, but i observed one black-haired man, who had been with us all along, had gone off, and returned, bringing a very young child. my fellow traveller then ordered the children to be drawn up in a row; and he dealt about his copper, and made them and their parents all happy. the poor m'craas, whatever may be their present state, were of considerable estimation in the year , when there was a line in a song, 'and aw the brave m'craas are coming[ ].' there was great diversity in the faces of the circle around us: some were as black and wild in their appearance as any american savages whatever. one woman was as comely almost as the figure of sappho, as we see it painted. we asked the old woman, the mistress of the house where we had the milk, (which by the bye, dr. johnson told me, for i did not observe it myself, was built not of turf, but of stone,) what we should pay. she said, what we pleased. one of our guides asked her in erse, if a shilling was enough. she said, 'yes.' but some of the men bade her ask more[ ]. this vexed me; because it shewed a desire to impose upon strangers, as they knew that even a shilling was high payment. the woman, however, honestly persisted in her first price; so i gave her half a crown. thus we had one good scene of life uncommon to us. the people were very much pleased, gave us many blessings, and said they had not had such a day since the old laird of macleod's time. dr. johnson was much refreshed by this repast. he was pleased when i told him he would make a good chief. he said, 'were i a chief, i would dress my servants better than myself, and knock a fellow down if he looked saucy to a macdonald in rags: but i would not treat men as brutes. i would let them know why all of my clan were to have attention paid to them. i would tell my upper servants why, and make them tell the others.' we rode on well[ ], till we came to the high mountain called the rattakin, by which time both dr. johnson and the horses were a good deal fatigued. it is a terrible steep to climb, notwithstanding the road is formed slanting along it; however, we made it out. on the top of it we met captain m'leod of balmenoch (a dutch officer who had come from sky) riding with his sword slung across him. he asked, 'is this mr. boswell?' which was a proof that we were expected. going down the hill on the other side was no easy task. as dr. johnson was a great weight, the two guides agreed that he should ride the horses alternately. hay's were the two best, and the doctor would not ride but upon one or other of them, a black or a brown. but as hay complained much after ascending the _rattakin_, the doctor was prevailed with to mount one of vass's greys. as he rode upon it down hill, it did not go well; and he grumbled. i walked on a little before, but was excessively entertained with the method taken to keep him in good humour. hay led the horse's head, talking to dr. johnson as much as he could; and (having heard him, in the forenoon, express a pastoral pleasure on seeing the goats browzing) just when the doctor was uttering his displeasure, the fellow cried, with a very highland accent, 'see, such pretty goats!' then he whistled, _whu!_ and made them jump. little did he conceive what dr. johnson was. here now was a common ignorant highland clown, imagining that he could divert, as one does a child,--_dr. samuel johnson!_ the ludicrousness, absurdity, and extraordinary contrast between what the fellow fancied, and the reality, was truly comick. it grew dusky; and we had a very tedious ride for what was called five miles; but i am sure would measure ten. we had no conversation. i was riding forward to the inn at glenelg, on the shore opposite to sky, that i might take proper measures, before dr. johnson, who was now advancing in dreary silence, hay leading his horse, should arrive. vass also walked by the side of his horse, and joseph followed behind: as therefore he was thus attended, and seemed to be in deep meditation, i thought there could be no harm in leaving him for a little while. he called me back with a tremendous shout, and was really in a passion with me for leaving him. i told him my intentions, but he was not satisfied, and said, 'do you know, i should as soon have thought of picking a pocket, as doing so?' boswell. 'i am diverted with you, sir.' johnson. 'sir, i could never be diverted with incivility. doing such a thing, makes one lose confidence in him who has done it, as one cannot tell what he may do next.' his extraordinary warmth confounded me so much, that i justified myself but lamely to him; yet my intentions were not improper. i wished to get on, to see how we were to be lodged, and how we were to get a boat; all which i thought i could best settle myself, without his having any trouble. to apply his great mind to minute particulars, is wrong: it is like taking an immense balance, such as is kept on quays for weighing cargoes of ships,--to weigh a guinea. i knew i had neat little scales, which would do better; and that his attention to every thing which falls in his way, and his uncommon desire to be always in the right, would make him weigh, if he knew of the particulars: it was right therefore for me to weigh them, and let him have them only in effect. i however continued to ride by him, finding he wished i should do so. as we passed the barracks at bernéra, i looked at them wishfully, as soldiers have always every thing in the best order: but there was only a serjeant and a few men there. we came on to the inn at glenelg. there was no provender for our horses; so they were sent to grass, with a man to watch them. a maid shewed us up stairs into a room damp and dirty, with bare walls, a variety of bad smells, a coarse black greasy fir table, and forms of the same kind; and out of a wretched bed started a fellow from his sleep, like edgar in _king lear_[ ], '_poor tom's a cold_[ ].' this inn was furnished with not a single article that we could either eat or drink[ ]; but mr. murchison, factor to the laird of macleod in glenelg, sent us a bottle of rum and some sugar, with a polite message, to acquaint us, that he was very sorry that he did not hear of us till we had passed his house, otherwise he should have insisted on our sleeping there that night; and that, if he were not obliged to set out for inverness early next morning, he would have waited upon us. such extraordinary attention from this gentleman, to entire strangers, deserves the most honourable commemoration. our bad accommodation here made me uneasy, and almost fretful. dr. johnson was calm. i said, he was so from vanity. johnson. 'no, sir, it is from philosophy.' it pleased me to see that the _rambler_ could practise so well his own lessons. i resumed the subject of my leaving him on the road, and endeavoured to defend it better. he was still violent upon that head, and said, 'sir, had you gone on, i was thinking that i should have returned with you to edinburgh, and then have parted from you, and never spoken to you more.' i sent for fresh hay, with which we made beds for ourselves, each in a room equally miserable. like wolfe, we had a 'choice of difficulties[ ]'. dr. johnson made things easier by comparison. at m'queen's, last night, he observed that few were so well lodged in a ship. to-night he said, we were better than if we had been upon the hill. he lay down buttoned up in his great coat. i had my sheets spread on the hay, and my clothes and great coat laid over me, by way of blankets. thursday, september . i had slept ill. dr. johnson's anger had affected me much. i considered that, without any bad intention, i might suddenly forfeit his friendship; and was impatient to see him this morning. i told him how uneasy he had made me, by what he had said, and reminded him of his own remark at aberdeen, upon old friendships being hastily broken off. he owned he had spoken to me in passion; that he would not have done what he threatened; and that, if he had, he should have been ten times worse than i; that forming intimacies, would indeed be 'limning the water[ ],' were they liable to such sudden dissolution; and he added, 'let's think no more on't.' boswell. 'well then, sir, i shall be easy. remember, i am to have fair warning in case of any quarrel. you are never to spring a mine upon me. it was absurd in me to believe you.' johnson. 'you deserved about as much, as to believe me from night to morning.' after breakfast, we got into a boat for sky. it rained much when we set off, but cleared up as we advanced. one of the boatmen, who spoke english, said, that a mile at land was two miles at sea. i then observed, that from glenelg to armidale in sky, which was our present course, and is called twelve, was only six miles: but this he could not understand. 'well, (said dr. johnson,) never talk to me of the native good sense of the highlanders. here is a fellow who calls one mile two, and yet cannot comprehend that twelve such imaginary miles make in truth but six.' we reached the shore of armidale before one o'clock. sir alexander m'donald came down to receive us. he and his lady, (formerly miss bosville of yorkshire[ ],) were then in a house built by a tenant at this place, which is in the district of slate, the family mansion here having been burned in sir donald macdonald's time. the most ancient seat of the chief of the macdonalds in the isle of sky was at duntulm, where there are the remains of a stately castle. the principal residence of the family is now at mugstot, at which there is a considerable building. sir alexander and lady macdonald had come to armidale in their way to edinburgh, where it was necessary for them to be soon after this time. armidale is situated on a pretty bay of the narrow sea, which flows between the main land of scotland and the isle of sky. in front there is a grand prospect of the rude mountains of moidart and knoidart[ ]. behind are hills gently rising and covered with a finer verdure than i expected to see in this climate, and the scene is enlivened by a number of little clear brooks. sir alexander macdonald having been an eton scholar[ ], and being a gentleman of talents, dr. johnson had been very well pleased with him in london[ ]. but my fellow-traveller and i were now full of the old highland spirit, and were dissatisfied at hearing of racked rents and emigration, and finding a chief not surrounded by his clan. dr. johnson said, 'sir, the highland chiefs should not be allowed to go farther south than aberdeen. a strong-minded man, like sir james macdonald[ ], may be improved by an english education; but in general, they will be tamed into insignificance.' we found here mr. janes of aberdeenshire, a naturalist. janes said he had been at dr. johnson's in london, with ferguson the astronomer[ ]. johnson. 'it is strange that, in such distant places, i should meet with any one who knows me. i should have thought i might hide myself in sky.' friday, september . this day proving wet, we should have passed our time very uncomfortably, had we not found in the house two chests of books, which we eagerly ransacked. after dinner, when i alone was left at table with the few highland gentlemen who were of the company, having talked with very high respect of sir james macdonald, they were all so much affected as to shed tears. one of them was mr. donald macdonald, who had been lieutenant of grenadiers in the highland regiment, raised by colonel montgomery, now earl of eglintoune, in the war before last; one of those regiments which the late lord chatham prided himself in having brought from 'the mountains of the north[ ]:' by doing which he contributed to extinguish in the highlands the remains of disaffection to the present royal family. from this gentleman's conversation, i first learnt how very popular his colonel was among the highlanders; of which i had such continued proofs, during the whole course of my tour, that on my return i could not help telling the noble earl himself, that i did not before know how great a man he was. we were advised by some persons here to visit rasay, in our way to dunvegan, the seat of the laird of macleod. being informed that the rev. mr. donald m'queen was the most intelligent man in sky, and having been favoured with a letter of introduction to him, by the learned sir james foulis, i sent it to him by an express, and requested he would meet us at rasay; and at the same time enclosed a letter to the laird of macleod, informing him that we intended in a few days to have the honour of waiting on him at dunvegan. dr. johnson this day endeavoured to obtain some knowledge of the state of the country; but complained that he could get no distinct information about any thing, from those with whom he conversed[ ]. saturday, september . my endeavours to rouse the english-bred chieftain[ ], in whose house we were, to the feudal and patriarchal feelings, proving ineffectual, dr. johnson this morning tried to bring him to our way of thinking. johnson. 'were i in your place, sir, in seven years i would make this an independant island. i would roast oxen whole, and hang out a flag as a signal to the macdonalds to come and get beef and whiskey.' sir alexander was still starting difficulties. johnson. 'nay, sir; if you are born to object, i have done with you. sir, i would have a magazine of arms.' sir alexander. 'they would rust.' johnson. 'let there be men to keep them clean. your ancestors did not use to let their arms rust[ ].' we attempted in vain to communicate to him a portion of our enthusiasm. he bore with so polite a good nature our warm, and what some might call gothick, expostulations, on this subject, that i should not forgive myself, were i to record all that dr. johnson's ardour led him to say.--this day was little better than a blank. sunday, september . i walked to the parish church of slate, which is a very poor one. there are no church bells in the island. i was told there were once some; what has become of them, i could not learn. the minister not being at home, there was no service. i went into the church, and saw the monument of sir james macdonald, which was elegantly executed at rome, and has the following inscription, written by his friend, george lord lyttelton:-- to the memory of sir james macdonald, bart. who in the flower of youth had attained to so eminent a degree of knowledge, in mathematics, philosophy, languages, and in every other branch of useful and polite learning as few have acquired in a long life wholly devoted to study: yet to this erudition he joined what can rarely be found with it, great talents for business, great propriety of behaviour, great politeness of manners! his eloquence was sweet, correct, and flowing; his memory vast and exact; his judgement strong and acute; all which endowments, united with the most amiable temper and every private virtue, procured him, not only in his own country, but also from foreign nations[ ], the highest marks of esteem. in the year of our lord , the th of his life, after a long and extremely painful illness, which he supported with admirable patience and fortitude, he died at rome, where, notwithstanding the difference of religion, such extraordinary honours were paid to his memory, as had never graced that of any other british subject, since the death of sir philip sidney. the fame he left behind him is the best consolation to his afflicted family, and to his countrymen in this isle, for whose benefit he had planned many useful improvements, which his fruitful genius suggested, and his active spirit promoted, under the sober direction of a clear and enlightened understanding. reader, bewail our loss, and that of all britain. in testimony of her love, and as the best return she can make to her departed son, for the constant tenderness and affection which, even to his last moments, he shewed for her, his much afflicted mother, the lady margaret macdonald, daughter to the earl of eglintoune, erected this monument, a.d. [ ]' dr. johnson said, the inscription should have been in latin, as every thing intended to be universal and permanent should be[ ]. this being a beautiful day, my spirits were cheered by the mere effect of climate. i had felt a return of spleen during my stay at armidale, and had it not been that i had dr. johnson to contemplate, i should have sunk into dejection; but his firmness supported me. i looked at him, as a man whose head is turning giddy at sea looks at a rock, or any fixed object. i wondered at his tranquillity. he said, 'sir, when a man retires into an island, he is to turn his thoughts entirely to another world. he has done with this.' boswell. 'it appears to me, sir, to be very difficult to unite a due attention to this world, and that which is to come; for, if we engage eagerly in the affairs of life, we are apt to be totally forgetful of a future state; and, on the other hand, a steady contemplation of the awful concerns of eternity renders all objects here so insignificant, as to make us indifferent and negligent about them.' johnson. 'sir, dr. cheyne has laid down a rule to himself on this subject, which should be imprinted on every mind:--"_to neglect nothing to secure my eternal peace, more than if i had been certified i should die within the day: nor to mind any thing that my secular obligations and duties demanded of me, less than if i had been ensured to live fifty years more[ ]_."' i must here observe, that though dr. johnson appeared now to be philosophically calm, yet his genius did not shine forth as in companies, where i have listened to him with admiration. the vigour of his mind was, however, sufficiently manifested, by his discovering no symptoms of feeble relaxation in the dull, 'weary, flat and unprofitable[ ]' state in which we now were placed. i am inclined to think that it was on this day he composed the following ode upon the _isle of sky_, which a few days afterwards he shewed me at rasay:-- oda, ponti profundis clausa recessibus, strepens procellis, rupibus obsita, quam grata defesso virentem skia sinum nebulosa pandis. his cura, credo, sedibus exulat; his blanda certe pax habitat locis: non ira, non moeror quietis insidias meditatur horis. at non cavata rupe latescere, menti nec aegrae montibus aviis prodest vagari, nec frementes e scopulo numerare fluctus. humana virtus non sibi sufficit, datur nec aequum cuique animum sibi parare posse, ut stoicorum secta crepet nimis alta fallax. exaestuantis pectoris impetum, rex summe, solus tu regis arbiter, mentisque, te tollente, surgunt, te recidunt moderante fluctus[ ]. after supper, dr. johnson told us, that isaac hawkins browne drank freely for thirty years, and that he wrote his poem, _de animi immortalitate_, in some of the last of these years[ ]. i listened to this with the eagerness of one who, conscious of being himself fond of wine, is glad to hear that a man of so much genius and good thinking as browne had the same propensity[ ]. monday, september . we set out, accompanied by mr. donald m'leod, (late of canna) as our guide. we rode for some time along the district of slate, near the shore. the houses in general are made of turf, covered with grass. the country seemed well peopled. we came into the district of strath, and passed along a wild moorish tract of land till we arrived at the shore. there we found good verdure, and some curious whin-rocks, or collections of stones like the ruins of the foundations of old buildings. we saw also three cairns of considerable size. about a mile beyond broadfoot, is corrichatachin, a farm of sir alexander macdonald's, possessed by mr. m'kinnon[ ], who received us with a hearty welcome, as did his wife, who was what we call in scotland a _lady-like_ woman. mr. pennant in the course of his tour to the hebrides, passed two nights at this gentleman's house. on its being mentioned, that a present had here been made to him of a curious specimen of highland antiquity, dr. johnson said, 'sir, it was more than he deserved; the dog is a whig[ ].' we here enjoyed the comfort of a table plentifully furnished[ ], the satisfaction of which was heightened by a numerous and cheerful company; and we for the first time had a specimen of the joyous social manners of the inhabitants of the highlands. they talked in their own ancient language, with fluent vivacity, and sung many erse songs with such spirit, that, though dr. johnson was treated with the greatest respect and attention, there were moments in which he seemed to be forgotten. for myself, though but a _lowlander_, having picked up a few words of the language, i presumed to mingle in their mirth, and joined in the choruses with as much glee as any of the company. dr. johnson being fatigued with his journey, retired early to his chamber, where he composed the following ode, addressed to mrs. thrale[ ]:-- oda. permeo terras, ubi nuda rupes saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas, torva ubi rident steriles coloni rura labores. pervagor gentes, hominum ferorum vita ubi nullo decorata cultu squallet informis, tugurique fumis foeda latescit. inter erroris salebrosa longi, inter ignotae strepitus loquelae, quot modis mecum, quid agat, requiro, thralia dulcis? seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet, seu fovet mater sobolem benigna, sive cum libris novitate pascet sedula mentem; sit memor nostri, fideique merces, stet fides constans, meritoque blandum thraliae discant resonare nomen littora skiae. scriptum in skiá, sept. , [ ]. tuesday, september . dr. johnson was much pleased with his entertainment here. there were many good books in the house: _hector boethius_ in latin; cave's _lives of the fathers_; baker's _chronicle_; jeremy collier's _church history_; dr. johnson's small _dictionary_; craufurd's _officers of state_, and several more[ ]:--a mezzotinto of mrs. brooks the actress (by some strange chance in sky[ ]), and also a print of macdonald of clanranald[ ], with a latin inscription about the cruelties after the battle of culloden, which will never be forgotten. it was a very wet stormy day; we were therefore obliged to remain here, it being impossible to cross the sea to rasay. i employed a part of the forenoon in writing this journal. the rest of it was somewhat dreary, from the gloominess of the weather, and the uncertain state which we were in, as we could not tell but it might clear up every hour. nothing is more painful to the mind than a state of suspence, especially when it depends upon the weather, concerning which there can be so little calculation. as dr. johnson said of our weariness on the monday at aberdeen, 'sensation is sensation[ ]:' corrichatachin, which was last night a hospitable house, was, in my mind, changed to-day into a prison. after dinner i read some of dr. macpherson's _dissertations on the ancient caledonians_[ ]. i was disgusted by the unsatisfactory conjectures as to antiquity, before the days of record. i was happy when tea came. such, i take it, is the state of those who live in the country. meals are wished for from the cravings of vacuity of mind, as well as from the desire of eating. i was hurt to find even such a temporary feebleness, and that i was so far from being that robust wise man who is sufficient for his own happiness. i felt a kind of lethargy of indolence. i did not exert myself to get dr. johnson to talk, that i might not have the labour of writing down his conversation. he enquired here if there were any remains of the second sight[ ]. mr. m'pherson, minister of slate, said, he was _resolved_ not to believe it, because it was founded on no principle[ ]. johnson. 'there are many things then, which we are sure are true, that you will not believe. what principle is there, why a loadstone attracts iron? why an egg produces a chicken by heat? why a tree grows upwards, when the natural tendency of all things is downwards? sir, it depends upon the degree of evidence that you have.' young mr. m'kinnon mentioned one m'kenzie, who is still alive, who had often fainted in his presence, and when he recovered, mentioned visions which had been presented to him. he told mr. m'kinnon, that at such a place he should meet a funeral, and that such and such people would be the bearers, naming four; and three weeks afterwards he saw what m'kenzie had predicted. the naming the very spot in a country where a funeral comes a long way, and the very people as bearers, when there are so many out of whom a choice may be made, seems extraordinary. we should have sent for m'kenzie, had we not been informed that he could speak no english. besides, the facts were not related with sufficient accuracy. mrs. m'kinnon, who is a daughter of old kingsburgh, told us that her father was one day riding in sky, and some women, who were at work in a field on the side of the road, said to him they had heard two _taiscks_, (that is, two voices of persons about to die[ ],) and what was remarkable, one of them was an _english taisck_, which they never heard before. when he returned, he at that very place met two funerals, and one of them was that of a woman who had come from the main land, and could speak only english. this, she remarked, made a great impression upon her father. how all the people here were lodged, i know not. it was partly done by separating man and wife, and putting a number of men in one room, and of women in another. wednesday, september . when i waked, the rain was much heavier than yesterday; but the wind had abated. by breakfast, the day was better, and in a little while it was calm and clear. i felt my spirits much elated. the propriety of the expression, '_the sunshine of the breast_[ ],' now struck me with peculiar force; for the brilliant rays penetrated into my very soul. we were all in better humour than before. mrs. m'kinnon, with unaffected hospitality and politeness, expressed her happiness in having such company in her house, and appeared to understand and relish dr. johnson's conversation, as indeed all the company seemed to do. when i knew she was old kingsburgh's daughter, i did not wonder at the good appearance which she made. she talked as if her husband and family would emigrate, rather than be oppressed by their landlord; and said, 'how agreeable would it be, if these gentlemen should come in upon us when we are in america.' somebody observed that sir alexander macdonald was always frightened at sea. johnson. '_he_ is frightened at sea; and his tenants are frightened when he comes to land.' we resolved to set out directly after breakfast. we had about two miles to ride to the sea-side, and there we expected to get one of the boats belonging to the fleet of bounty[ ] herring-busses then on the coast, or at least a good country fishing-boat. but while we were preparing to set out, there arrived a man with the following card from the reverend mr. donald m'queen:-- 'mr. m'queen's compliments to mr. boswell, and begs leave to acquaint him that, fearing the want of a proper boat, as much as the rain of yesterday, might have caused a stop, he is now at skianwden with macgillichallum's[ ] carriage, to convey him and dr. johnson to rasay, where they will meet with a most hearty welcome, and where. macleod, being on a visit, now attends their motions.' 'wednesday afternoon.' this card was most agreeable; it was a prologue to that hospitable and truly polite reception which we found at rasay. in a little while arrived mr. donald m'queen himself; a decent minister, an elderly man with his own black hair, courteous, and rather slow of speech, but candid, sensible, and well informed, nay learned. along with him came, as our pilot, a gentleman whom i had a great desire to see, mr. malcolm macleod, one of the rasay family, celebrated in the year - . he was now sixty-two years of age, hale, and well proportioned,--with a manly countenance, tanned by the weather, yet having a ruddiness in his cheeks, over a great part of which his rough beard extended. his eye was quick and lively, yet his look was not fierce, but he appeared at once firm and good-humoured. he wore a pair of brogues[ ],--tartan hose which came up only near to his knees, and left them bare,--a purple camblet kilt[ ],--a black waistcoat,--a short green cloth coat bound with gold cord,--a yellowish bushy wig,--a large blue bonnet with a gold thread button. i never saw a figure that gave a more perfect representation of a highland gentleman. i wished much to have a picture of him just as he was. i found him frank and _polite_, in the true sense of the word. the good family at corrichatachin said, they hoped to see us on our return. we rode down to the shore; but malcolm walked with graceful agility. we got into rasay's _carriage_, which was a good strong open boat made in norway. the wind had now risen pretty high, and was against us; but we had four stout rowers, particularly a macleod, a robust black-haired fellow, half naked, and bare-headed, something between a wild indian and an english tar. dr. johnson sat high, on the stern, like a magnificent triton. malcolm sung an erse song, the chorus of which was '_hatyin foam foam eri_', with words of his own[ ]. the tune resembled '_owr the muir amang the heather_'. the boatmen and mr. m'queen chorused, and all went well. at length malcolm himself took an oar, and rowed vigorously. we sailed along the coast of scalpa, a rugged island, about four miles in length. dr. johnson proposed that he and i should buy it, and found a good school, and an episcopal church, (malcolm[ ] said, he would come to it,) and have a printing-press, where he would print all the erse that could be found. here i was strongly struck with our long projected scheme of visiting the hebrides being realized[ ]. i called to him, 'we are contending with seas;' which i think were the words of one of his letters to me[ ]. 'not much,' said he; and though the wind made the sea lash considerably upon us, he was not discomposed. after we were out of the shelter of scalpa, and in the sound between it and rasay, which extended about a league, the wind made the sea very rough[ ]. i did not like it. johnson. 'this now is the atlantick. if i should tell at a tea table in london, that i have crossed the atlantick in an open boat, how they'd shudder, and what a fool they'd think me to expose myself to such danger?' he then repeated horace's ode,-- 'otium divos rogat in patenti prensus aegaeo----[ ]' in the confusion and hurry of this boisterous sail, dr. johnson's spurs, of which joseph had charge, were carried over-board into the sea, and lost[ ]. this was the first misfortune that had befallen us. dr. johnson was a little angry at first, observing that 'there was something wild in letting a pair of spurs be carried into the sea out of a boat;' but then he remarked, 'that, as janes the naturalist had said upon losing his pocket-book, it was rather an inconvenience than a loss.' he told us, he now recollected that he dreamt the night before, that he put his staff into a river, and chanced to let it go, and it was carried down the stream and lost. 'so now you see, (said he,) that i have lost my spurs; and this story is better than many of those which we have concerning second sight and dreams.' mr. m'queen said he did not believe the second sight; that he never met with any well attested instances; and if he should, he should impute them to chance; because all who pretend to that quality often fail in their predictions, though they take a great scope, and sometimes interpret literally, sometimes figuratively, so as to suit the events. he told us, that, since he came to be minister of the parish where he now is, the belief of witchcraft, or charms, was very common, insomuch that he had many prosecutions before his _session_ (the parochial ecclesiastical court) against women, for having by these means carried off the milk from people's cows. he disregarded them; and there is not now the least vestige of that superstition. he preached against it; and in order to give a strong proof to the people that there was nothing in it, he said from the pulpit that every woman in the parish was welcome to take the milk from his cows, provided she did not touch them[ ]. dr. johnson asked him as to _fingal_. he said he could repeat some passages in the original, that he heard his grandfather had a copy of it; but that he could not affirm that ossian composed all that poem as it is now published. this came pretty much to what dr. johnson had maintained[ ]; though he goes farther, and contends that it is no better than such an epick poem as he could make from the song of robin hood[ ]; that is to say, that, except a few passages, there is nothing truly ancient but the names and some vague traditions. mr. m'queen alleged that homer was made up of detached fragments. dr. johnson denied this; observing, that it had been one work originally, and that you could not put a book of the _iliad_ out of its place; and he believed the same might be said of the _odyssey_. the approach to rasay was very pleasing. we saw before us a beautiful bay, well defended by a rocky coast; a good family mansion; a fine verdure about it,--with a considerable number of trees;--and beyond it hills and mountains in gradation of wildness. our boatmen sung with great spirit. dr. johnson observed, that naval musick was very ancient. as we came near the shore, the singing of our rowers was succeeded by that of reapers, who were busy at work, and who seemed to shout as much as to sing, while they worked with a bounding activity[ ]. just as we landed, i observed a cross, or rather the ruins of one, upon a rock, which had to me a pleasing vestige of religion. i perceived a large company coming out from the house. we met them as we walked up. there were rasay himself; his brother dr. macleod; his nephew the laird of m'kinnon; the laird of macleod; colonel macleod of talisker, an officer in the dutch service, a very genteel man, and a faithful branch of the family; mr. macleod of muiravenside, best known by the name of sandie macleod, who was long in exile on account of the part which he took in ; and several other persons. we were welcomed upon the green, and conducted into the house, where we were introduced to lady rasay, who was surrounded by a numerous family, consisting of three sons and ten daughters. the laird of rasay is a sensible, polite, and most hospitable gentleman. i was told that his island of rasay, and that of rona, (from which the eldest son of the family has his title,) and a considerable extent of land which he has in sky, do not altogether yield him a very large revenue[ ]: and yet he lives in great splendour; and so far is he from distressing his people, that, in the present rage for emigration, not a man has left his estate. it was past six o'clock when we arrived. some excellent brandy was served round immediately, according to the custom of the highlands, where a dram is generally taken every day. they call it a _scalch_[ ]. on a side-board was placed for us, who had come off the sea, a substantial dinner, and a variety of wines. then we had coffee and tea. i observed in the room several elegantly bound books, and other marks of improved life. soon afterwards a fidler appeared, and a little ball began. rasay himself danced with as much spirit as any man, and malcolm bounded like a roe. sandie macleod, who has at times an excessive flow of spirits, and had it now, was, in his days of absconding, known by the name of _m'cruslick_[ ], which it seems was the designation of a kind of wild man in the highlands, something between proteus and don quixote; and so he was called here. he made much jovial noise. dr. johnson was so delighted with this scene, that he said, 'i know not how we shall get away.' it entertained me to observe him sitting by, while we danced, sometimes in deep meditation,--sometimes smiling complacently,--sometimes looking upon hooke's _roman history_,--and sometimes talking a little, amidst the noise of the ball, to mr. donald m'queen, who anxiously gathered knowledge from him. he was pleased with m'queen, and said to me, 'this is a critical man, sir. there must be great vigour of mind to make him cultivate learning so much in the isle of sky, where he might do without it. it is wonderful how many of the new publications he has. there must be a snatch of every opportunity.' mr. m'queen told me that his brother (who is the fourth generation of the family following each other as ministers of the parish of snizort,) and he joined together, and bought from time to time such books as had reputation. soon after we came in, a black cock and grey hen, which had been shot, were shewn, with their feathers on, to dr. johnson, who had never seen that species of bird before. we had a company of thirty at supper; and all was good humour and gaiety, without intemperance. thursday, september . at breakfast this morning, among a profusion of other things, there were oat-cakes, made of what is called _graddaned_ meal, that is, meal made of grain separated from the husks, and toasted by fire, instead of being threshed and kiln-dried. this seems to be bad management, as so much fodder is consumed by it. mr. m'queen however defended it, by saying, that it is doing the thing much quicker, as one operation effects what is otherwise done by two. his chief reason however was, that the servants in sky are, according to him, a faithless pack, and steal what they can; so that much is saved by the corn passing but once through their hands, as at each time they pilfer some. it appears to me, that the gradaning is a strong proof of the laziness of the highlanders, who will rather make fire act for them, at the expence of fodder, than labour themselves. there was also, what i cannot help disliking at breakfast, cheese: it is the custom over all the highlands to have it; and it often smells very strong, and poisons to a certain degree the elegance of an indian repast[ ]. the day was showery; however, rasay and i took a walk, and had some cordial conversation. i conceived a more than ordinary regard for this worthy gentleman. his family has possessed this island above four hundred years[ ]. it is the remains of the estate of macleod of lewis, whom he represents. when we returned, dr. johnson walked with us to see the old chapel. he was in fine spirits. he said,' this is truly the patriarchal life: this is what we came to find.' after dinner, m'cruslick, malcolm, and i, went out with guns, to try if we could find any black-cock; but we had no sport, owing to a heavy rain. i saw here what is called a danish fort. our evening was passed as last night was. one of our company, i was told, had hurt himself by too much study, particularly of infidel metaphysicians; of which he gave a proof, on second sight being mentioned. he immediately retailed some of the fallacious arguments of voltaire and hume against miracles in general. infidelity in a highland gentleman appeared to me peculiarly offensive. i was sorry for him, as he had otherwise a good character. i told dr. johnson that he had studied himself into infidelity. johnson. 'then he must study himself out of it again. that is the way. drinking largely will sober him again.' friday, september . having resolved to explore the island of rasay, which could be done only on foot, i last night obtained my fellow-traveller's permission to leave him for a day, he being unable to take so hardy a walk. old mr. malcolm m'cleod, who had obligingly promised to accompany me, was at my bed-side between five and six. i sprang up immediately, and he and i, attended by two other gentlemen, traversed the country during the whole of this day. though we had passed over not less than four-and-twenty miles of very rugged ground, and had a highland dance on the top of _dun can_, the highest mountain in the island, we returned in the evening not at all fatigued, and piqued ourselves at not being outdone at the nightly ball by our less active friends, who had remained at home. my survey of rasay did not furnish much which can interest my readers; i shall therefore put into as short a compass as i can, the observations upon it, which i find registered in my journal. it is about fifteen english miles long, and four broad. on the south side is the laird's family seat, situated on a pleasing low spot. the old tower of three stories, mentioned by martin, was taken down soon after , and a modern house supplies its place. there are very good grass-fields and corn-lands about it, well-dressed. i observed, however, hardly any inclosures, except a good garden plentifully stocked with vegetables, and strawberries, raspberries, currants, &c. on one of the rocks just where we landed, which are not high, there is rudely carved a square, with a crucifix in the middle. here, it is said, the lairds of rasay, in old times, used to offer up their devotions. i could not approach the spot, without a grateful recollection of the event commemorated by this symbol. a little from the shore, westward, is a kind of subterraneous house. there has been a natural fissure, or separation of the rock, running towards the sea, which has been roofed over with long stones, and above them turf has been laid. in that place the inhabitants used to keep their oars. there are a number of trees near the house, which grow well; some of them of a pretty good size. they are mostly plane and ash. a little to the west of the house is an old ruinous chapel, unroofed, which never has been very curious. we here saw some human bones of an uncommon size. there was a heel-bone, in particular, which dr. macleod said was such, that if the foot was in proportion, it must have been twenty-seven inches long. dr. johnson would not look at the bones. he started back from them with a striking appearance of horrour[ ]. mr. m'queen told us it was formerly much the custom, in these isles, to have human bones lying above ground, especially in the windows of churches. on the south of the chapel is the family burying-place. above the door, on the east end of it, is a small bust or image of the virgin mary, carved upon a stone which makes part of the wall. there is no church upon the island. it is annexed to one of the parishes of sky; and the minister comes and preaches either in rasay's house, or some other house, on certain sundays. i could not but value the family seat more, for having even the ruins of a chapel close to it. there was something comfortable in the thought of being so near a piece of consecrated ground.[ ] dr. johnson said, 'i look with reverence upon every place that has been set apart for religion;' and he kept off his hat while he was within the walls of the chapel[ ]. the eight crosses, which martin mentions as pyramids for deceased ladies, stood in a semicircular line, which contained within it the chapel. they marked out the boundaries of the sacred territory within which an asylum was to be had. one of them, which we observed upon our landing, made the first point of the semicircle. there are few of them now remaining. a good way farther north, there is a row of buildings about four feet high; they run from the shore on the east along the top of a pretty high eminence, and so down to the shore on the west, in much the same direction with the crosses. rasay took them to be the marks for the asylum; but malcolm thought them to be false sentinels, a common deception, of which instances occur in martin, to make invaders imagine an island better guarded. mr. donald m'queen, justly in my opinion, supposed the crosses which form the inner circle to be the church's land-marks. the south end of the island is much covered with large stones or rocky strata. the laird has enclosed and planted part of it with firs, and he shewed me a considerable space marked out for additional plantations. _dun can_ is a mountain three computed miles from the laird's house. the ascent to it is by consecutive risings, if that expression may be used when vallies intervene, so that there is but a short rise at once; but it is certainly very high above the sea. the palm of altitude is disputed for by the people of rasay and those of sky; the former contending for dun can, the latter for the mountains in sky, over against it. we went up the east side of dun can pretty easily. it is mostly rocks all around, the points of which hem the summit of it. sailors, to whom it was a good object as they pass along, call it rasay's cap. before we reached this mountain, we passed by two lakes. of the first, malcolm told me a strange fabulous tradition. he said, there was a wild beast in it, a sea horse, which came and devoured a man's daughter; upon which the man lighted a great fire, and had a sow roasted at it, the smell of which attracted the monster. in the fire was put a spit. the man lay concealed behind a low wall of loose stones, and he had an avenue formed for the monster, with two rows of large flat stones, which extended from the fire over the summit of the hill, till it reached the side of the loch. the monster came, and the man with the red-hot spit destroyed it. malcolm shewed me the little hiding-place, and the rows of stones. he did not laugh when he told this story. i recollect having seen in the _scots magazine_, several years ago, a poem upon a similar tale, perhaps the same, translated from the erse, or irish, called _albin and the daughter of mey_. there is a large tract of land, possessed as a common, in rasay. they have no regulations as to the number of cattle. every man puts upon it as many as he chooses. from dun can northward, till you reach the other end of the island, there is much good natural pasture unincumbered by stones. we passed over a spot, which is appropriated for the exercising ground. in , a hundred fighting men were reviewed here, as malcolm told me, who was one of the officers that led them to the field[ ]. they returned home all but about fourteen. what a princely thing is it to be able to furnish such a band! rasay has the true spirit of a chief. he is, without exaggeration, a father to his people. there is plenty of lime-stone in the island, a great quarry of free-stone, and some natural woods, but none of any age, as they cut the trees for common country uses. the lakes, of which there are many, are well stocked with trout. malcolm catched one of four-and-twenty pounds weight in the loch next to dun can, which, by the way, is certainly a danish name, as most names of places in these islands are. the old castle, in which the family of rasay formerly resided, is situated upon a rock very near the sea. the rock is not one mass of stone, but a concretion of pebbles and earth, so firm that it does not appear to have mouldered. in this remnant of antiquity i found nothing worthy of being noticed, except a certain accommodation rarely to be found at the modern houses of scotland, and which dr. johnson and i sought for in vain at the laird of rasay's new built mansion, where nothing else was wanting. i took the liberty to tell the laird it was a shame there should be such a deficiency in civilized times. he acknowledged the justice of the remark. but perhaps some generations may pass before the want is supplied. dr. johnson observed to me, how quietly people will endure an evil, which they might at any time very easily remedy; and mentioned as an instance, that the present family of rasay had possessed the island for more than four hundred years, and never made a commodious landing place, though a few men with pickaxes might have cut an ascent of stairs out of any part of the rock in a week's time[ ]. the north end of rasay is as rocky as the south end. from it i saw the little isle of fladda, belonging to rasay, all fine green ground;--and rona, which is of so rocky a soil that it appears to be a pavement. i was told however that it has a great deal of grass in the interstices. the laird has it all in his own hands. at this end of the island of rasay is a cave in a striking situation. it is in a recess of a great cleft, a good way up from the sea. before it the ocean roars, being dashed against monstrous broken rocks; grand and aweful _propugnacula_. on the right hand of it is a longitudinal cave, very low at the entrance, but higher as you advance. the sea having scooped it out, it seems strange and unaccountable that the interior part, where the water must have operated with less force, should be loftier than that which is more immediately exposed to its violence. the roof of it is all covered with a kind of petrifications formed by drops, which perpetually distil from it. the first cave has been a place of much safety. i find a great difficulty in describing visible objects[ ]. i must own too that the old castle and cave, like many other things of which one hears much, did not answer my expectations. people are every where apt to magnify the curiosities of their country. this island has abundance of black cattle, sheep, and goats;--a good many horses, which are used for ploughing, carrying out dung, and other works of husbandry. i believe the people never ride. there are indeed no roads through the island, unless a few detached beaten tracks deserve that name. most of the houses are upon the shore; so that all the people have little boats, and catch fish. there is great plenty of potatoes here. there are black-cock in extraordinary abundance, moorfowl, plover and wild pigeons, which seemed to me to be the same as we have in pigeon-houses, in their state of nature. rasay has no pigeon-house. there are no hares nor rabbits in the island, nor was there ever known to be a fox[ ], till last year, when one was landed on it by some malicious person, without whose aid he could not have got thither, as that animal is known to be a very bad swimmer. he has done much mischief. there is a great deal of fish caught in the sea round rasay; it is a place where one may live in plenty, and even in luxury. there are no deer; but rasay told us he would get some. they reckon it rains nine months in the year in this island, owing to its being directly opposite to the western[ ] coast of sky, where the watery clouds are broken by high mountains. the hills here, and indeed all the heathy grounds in general, abound with the sweet-smelling plant which the highlanders call _gaul_, and (i think) with dwarf juniper in many places. there is enough of turf, which is their fuel, and it is thought there is a mine of coal.--such are the observations which i made upon the island of rasay, upon comparing it with the description given by martin, whose book we had with us. there has been an ancient league between the families of macdonald and rasay. whenever the head of either family dies, his sword is given to the head of the other. the present rasay has the late sir james macdonald's sword. old rasay joined the highland army in , but prudently guarded against a forfeiture, by previously conveying his estate to the present gentleman, his eldest son[ ]. on that occasion, sir alexander, father of the late sir james macdonald, was very friendly to his neighbour. 'don't be afraid, rasay,' said he; 'i'll use all my interest to keep you safe; and if your estate should be taken, i'll buy it for the family.'--and he would have done it. let me now gather some gold dust,--some more fragments of dr. johnson's conversation, without regard to order of time. he said, 'he thought very highly of bentley; that no man now went so far in the kinds of learning that he cultivated[ ]; that the many attacks on him were owing to envy, and to a desire of being known, by being in competition with such a man; that it was safe to attack him, because he never answered his opponents, but let them die away[ ]. it was attacking a man who would not beat them, because his beating them would make them live the longer. and he was right not to answer; for, in his hazardous method of writing, he could not but be often enough wrong; so it was better to leave things to their general appearance, than own himself to have erred in particulars.' he said, 'mallet was the prettiest drest puppet about town, and always kept good company[ ]. that, from his way of talking he saw, and always said, that he had not written any part of the _life of the duke of marlborough_, though perhaps he intended to do it at some time, in which case he was not culpable in taking the pension[ ]. that he imagined the duchess furnished the materials for her _apology_, which hooke wrote, and hooke furnished the words and the order, and all that in which the art of writing consists. that the duchess had not superior parts, but was a bold frontless woman, who knew how to make the most of her opportunities in life. that hooke got a _large_ sum of money for writing her _apology_[ ]. that he wondered hooke should have been weak enough to insert so profligate a maxim, as that to tell another's secret to one's friend is no breach of confidence[ ]; though perhaps hooke, who was a virtuous man[ ], as his _history_ shews, and did not wish her well, though he wrote her _apology_, might see its ill tendency, and yet insert it at her desire. he was acting only ministerially.' i apprehended, however, that hooke was bound to give his best advice. i speak as a lawyer. though i have had clients whose causes i could not, as a private man, approve; yet, if i undertook them, i would not do any thing that might be prejudicial to them, even at their desire, without warning them of their danger. saturday, september . it was a storm of wind and rain; so we could not set out. i wrote some of this _journal_, and talked a while with dr. johnson in his room, and passed the day, i cannot well say how, but very pleasantly. i was here amused to find mr. cumberland's comedy of the _fashionable lover_[ ], in which he has very well drawn a highland character, colin m'cleod, of the same name with the family under whose roof we now were. dr. johnson was much pleased with the laird of macleod, who is indeed a most promising youth, and with a noble spirit struggles with difficulties, and endeavours to preserve his people. he has been left with an incumbrance of forty thousand pounds debt, and annuities to the amount of thirteen hundred pounds a year. dr. johnson said, 'if he gets the better of all this, he'll be a hero; and i hope he will[ ]. i have not met with a young man who had more desire to learn, or who has learnt more. i have seen nobody that i wish more to do a kindness to than macleod.' such was the honourable elogium, on this young chieftain, pronounced by an accurate observer, whose praise was never lightly bestowed. there is neither justice of peace, nor constable in rasay. sky has mr. m'cleod of ulinish, who is the sheriff substitute, and no other justice of peace. the want of the execution of justice is much felt among the islanders. macleod very sensibly observed, that taking away the heritable jurisdictions[ ] had not been of such service in the islands as was imagined. they had not authority enough in lieu of them. what could formerly have been settled at once, must now either take much time and trouble, or be neglected. dr. johnson said, 'a country is in a bad state which is governed only by laws; because a thousand things occur for which laws cannot provide, and where authority ought to interpose. now destroying the authority of the chiefs set the people loose. it did not pretend to bring any positive good, but only to cure some evil; and i am not well enough acquainted with the country to know what degree of evil the heritable jurisdictions occasioned[ ].' i maintained hardly any; because the chiefs generally acted right, for their own sakes. dr. johnson was now wishing to move. there was not enough of intellectual entertainment for him, after he had satisfied his curiosity, which he did, by asking questions, till he had exhausted the island; and where there was so numerous a company, mostly young people, there was such a flow of familiar talk, so much noise, and so much singing and dancing, that little opportunity was left for his energetick conversation[ ]. he seemed sensible of this; for when i told him how happy they were at having him there, he said, 'yet we have not been able to entertain them much.' i was fretted, from irritability of nerves, by m'cruslick's too obstreperous mirth. i complained of it to my friend, observing we should be better if he was, gone. 'no, sir (said he). he puts something into our society, and takes nothing out of it.' dr. johnson, however, had several opportunities of instructing the company; but i am sorry to say, that i did not pay sufficient attention to what passed, as his discourse now turned chiefly on mechanicks, agriculture and such subjects, rather than on science and wit. last night lady rasay shewed him the operation of _wawking_ cloth, that is, thickening it in the same manner as is done by a mill. here it is performed by women, who kneel upon the ground, and rub it with both their hands, singing an erse song all the time. he was asking questions while they were performing this operation, and, amidst their loud and wild howl, his voice was heard even in the room above[ ]. they dance here every night. the queen of our ball was the eldest miss macleod, of rasay, an elegant well-bred woman, and celebrated for her beauty over all those regions, by the name of miss flora rasay[ ]. there seemed to be no jealousy, no discontent among them; and the gaiety of the scene was such, that i for a moment doubted whether unhappiness had any place in rasay. but my delusion was soon dispelled, by recollecting the following lines of my fellow-traveller:-- 'yet hope not life from pain or danger free, or think the doom of man revers'd for thee[ ]!' sunday, september . it was a beautiful day, and although we did not approve of travelling on sunday, we resolved to set out, as we were in an island from whence one must take occasion as it serves. macleod and talisker sailed in a boat of rasay's for sconser, to take the shortest way to dunvegan. m'cruslick went with them to sconser, from whence he was to go to slate, and so to the main land. we were resolved to pay a visit at kingsburgh, and see the celebrated miss flora macdonald, who is married to the present mr. macdonald of kingsburgh; so took that road, though not so near. all the family, but lady rasay, walked down to the shore to see us depart. rasay himself went with us in a large boat, with eight oars, built in his island[ ]; as did mr. malcolm m'cleod, mr. donald m'queen, dr. macleod, and some others. we had a most pleasant sail between rasay and sky; and passed by a cave, where martin says fowls were caught by lighting fire in the mouth of it. malcolm remembers this. but it is not now practised, as few fowls come into it. we spoke of death. dr. johnson on this subject observed, that the boastings of some men, as to dying easily, were idle talk[ ], proceeding from partial views. i mentioned hawthornden's _cypress-grove_, where it is said that the world is a mere show; and that it is unreasonable for a man to wish to continue in the show-room, after he has seen it. let him go cheerfully out, and give place to other spectators[ ]. johnson. 'yes, sir, if he is sure he is to be well, after he goes out of it. but if he is to grow blind after he goes out of the show-room, and never to see any thing again; or if he does not know whither he is to go next, a man will not go cheerfully out of a show-room. no wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he is to go into a state of punishment. nay, no wise man will be contented to die, if he thinks he is to fall into annihilation: for however unhappy any man's existence may be, he yet would rather have it, than not exist at all[ ]. no; there is no rational principle by which a man can die contented, but a trust in the mercy of god, through the merits of jesus christ.' this short sermon, delivered with an earnest tone, in a boat upon the sea, which was perfectly calm, on a day appropriated to religious worship, while every one listened with an air of satisfaction, had a most pleasing effect upon my mind. pursuing the same train of serious reflection, he added that it seemed certain that happiness could not be found in this life, because so many had tried to find it, in such a variety of ways, and had not found it. we reached the harbour of portree, in sky, which is a large and good one. there was lying in it a vessel to carry off the emigrants called the _nestor_. it made a short settlement of the differences between a chief and his clan:-- '-----_nestor_ componere lites inter peleiden festinat & inter atriden.'[ ] we approached her, and she hoisted her colours. dr. johnson and mr. mcqueen remained in the boat: rasay and i, and the rest went on board of her. she was a very pretty vessel, and, as we were told, the largest in clyde. mr. harrison, the captain, shewed her to us. the cabin was commodious, and even elegant. there was a little library, finely bound. _portree_ has its name from king james the fifth having landed there in his tour through the western isles, _ree_ in erse being king, as _re_ is in italian; so it is _port royal_. there was here a tolerable inn. on our landing, i had the pleasure of finding a letter from home; and there were also letters to dr. johnson and me, from lord elibank[ ], which had been sent after us from edinburgh. his lordship's letter to me was as follows:-- 'dear boswell, 'i flew to edinburgh the moment i heard of mr. johnson's arrival; but so defective was my intelligence, that i came too late. 'it is but justice to believe, that i could never forgive myself, nor deserve to be forgiven by others, if i was to fail in any mark of respect to that very great genius.--i hold him in the highest veneration; for that very reason i was resolved to take no share in the merit, perhaps guilt, of inticing him to honour this country with a visit.--i could not persuade myself there was any thing in scotland worthy to have a summer of samuel johnson bestowed on it; but since he has done us that compliment, for heaven's sake inform me of your motions. i will attend them most religiously; and though i should regret to let mr. johnson go a mile out of his way on my account, old as i am,[ ] i shall be glad to go five hundred miles to enjoy a day of his company. have the charity to send a council-post[ ] with intelligence; the post does not suit us in the country.--at any rate write to me. i will attend you in the north, when i shall know where to find you. i am, my dear boswell, your sincerely obedient humble servant, 'elibank.' 'august st, .' the letter to dr. johnson was in these words:-- 'dear sir, 'i was to have kissed your hands at edinburgh, the moment i heard of you; but you was gone. 'i hope my friend boswell will inform me of your motions. it will be cruel to deprive me an instant of the honour of attending you. as i value you more than any king in christendom, i will perform that duty with infinitely greater alacrity than any courtier. i can contribute but little to your entertainment; but, my sincere esteem for you gives me some title to the opportunity of expressing it. 'i dare say you are by this time sensible that things are pretty much the same, as when buchanan complained of being born _solo et seculo inerudito_. let me hear of you, and be persuaded that none of your admirers is more sincerely devoted to you, than, dear sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant, 'elibank.' dr. johnson, on the following tuesday, answered for both of us, thus:-- 'my lord, 'on the rugged shore of skie, i had the honour of your lordship's letter, and can with great truth declare, that no place is so gloomy but that it would be cheered by such a testimony of regard, from a mind so well qualified to estimate characters, and to deal out approbation in its due proportions. if i have more than my share, it is your lordship's fault; for i have always reverenced your judgment too much, to exalt myself in your presence by any false pretensions. 'mr. boswell and i are at present at the disposal of the winds, and therefore cannot fix the time at which we shall have the honour of seeing your lordship. but we should either of us think ourselves injured by the supposition that we would miss your lordship's conversation, when we could enjoy it; for i have often declared that i never met you without going away a wiser man.[ ] 'i am, my lord, your lordship's most obedient and most humble servant, skie, sept. , .' 'sam. johnson.' at portree, mr. donald mcqueen went to church and officiated in erse, and then came to dinner. dr. johnson and i resolved that we should treat the company, so i played the landlord, or master of the feast, having previously ordered joseph to pay the bill. sir james macdonald intended to have built a village here, which would have done great good. a village is like a heart to a country. it produces a perpetual circulation, and gives the people an opportunity to make profit of many little articles, which would otherwise be in a good measure lost. we had here a dinner, _et praeterea nihil_. dr. johnson did not talk. when we were about to depart, we found that rasay had been beforehand with us, and that all was paid: i would fain have contested this matter with him, but seeing him resolved, i declined it. we parted with cordial embraces from him and worthy malcolm. in the evening dr. johnson and i remounted our horses, accompanied by mr. mcqueen and dr. macleod. it rained very hard. we rode what they call six miles, upon rasay's lands in sky, to dr. macleod's house. on the road dr. johnson appeared to be somewhat out of spirits. when i talked of our meeting lord elibank, he said, 'i cannot be with him much. i long to be again in civilized life; but can stay but a short while;' (he meant at edinburgh.) he said, 'let us go to dunvegan to-morrow.' 'yes, (said i,) if it is not a deluge.' 'at any rate,' he replied. this shewed a kind of fretful impatience; nor was it to be wondered at, considering our disagreeable ride. i feared he would give up mull and icolmkill, for he said something of his apprehensions of being detained by bad weather in going to mull and _iona_. however i hoped well. we had a dish of tea at dr. macleod's, who had a pretty good house, where was his brother, a half-pay officer. his lady was a polite, agreeable woman. dr. johnson said, he was glad to see that he was so well married, for he had an esteem for physicians.[ ] the doctor accompanied us to kingsburgh, which is called a mile farther; but the computation of sky has no connection whatever with real distance.[ ] i was highly pleased to see dr. johnson safely arrived at kingsburgh, and received by the hospitable mr. macdonald, who, with a most respectful attention, supported him into the house. kingsburgh was completely the figure of a gallant highlander,--exhibiting 'the graceful mien and manly looks[ ],' which our popular scotch song has justly attributed to that character. he had his tartan plaid thrown about him, a large blue bonnet with a knot of black ribband like a cockade, a brown short coat of a kind of duffil, a tartan waistcoat with gold buttons and gold button-holes, a bluish philibeg, and tartan hose. he had jet black hair tied behind, and was a large stately man, with a steady sensible countenance. there was a comfortable parlour with a good fire, and a dram went round. by and by supper was served, at which there appeared the lady of the house, the celebrated miss flora macdonald. she is a little woman, of a genteel appearance, and uncommonly mild and well-bred[ ]. to see dr. samuel johnson, the great champion of the english tories, salute miss flora macdonald in the isle of sky, was a striking sight; for though somewhat congenial in their notions, it was very improbable they should meet here. miss flora macdonald (for so i shall call her) told me, she heard upon the main land, as she was returning home about a fortnight before, that mr. boswell was coming to sky, and one mr. johnson, a young english buck[ ], with him. he was highly entertained with this fancy. giving an account of the afternoon which we passed, at _anock_, he said, 'i, being a _buck_, had miss[ ] in to make tea.' he was rather quiescent to-night, and went early to bed. i was in a cordial humour, and promoted a cheerful glass. the punch was excellent. honest mr. m'queen observed that i was in high glee, 'my _governour_[ ] being gone to bed.' yet in reality my heart was grieved, when i recollected that kingsburgh was embarrassed in his affairs, and intended to go to america[ ]. however, nothing but what was good was present, and i pleased myself in thinking that so spirited a man would be well every where. i slept in the same room with dr. johnson. each had a neat bed, with tartan curtains, in an upper chamber. monday, september . the room where we lay was a celebrated one. dr. johnson's bed was the very bed in which the grandson of the unfortunate king james the second[ ] lay, on one of the nights after the failure of his rash attempt in - , while he was eluding the pursuit of the emissaries of government, which had offered thirty thousand pounds as a reward for apprehending him. to see dr. samuel johnson lying in that bed, in the isle of sky, in the house of miss flora macdonald, struck me with such a group of ideas as it is not easy for words to describe, as they passed through the mind. he smiled, and said, 'i have had no ambitious thoughts in it[ ].' the room was decorated with a great variety of maps and prints. among others, was hogarth's print of wilkes grinning, with a cap of liberty on a pole by him. that too was a curious circumstance in the scene this morning; such a contrast was wilkes to the above groupe. it reminded me of sir william chambers's _account of oriental gardening_[ ], in which we are told all odd, strange, ugly, and even terrible objects, are introduced for the sake of variety; a wild extravagance of taste which is so well ridiculed in the celebrated epistle to him[ ]. the following lines of that poem immediately occurred to me; 'here too, o king of vengeance! in thy fane, tremendous wilkes shall rattle his gold chain[ ].' upon the table in our room i found in the morning a slip of paper, on which dr. johnson had written with his pencil these words, 'quantum cedat virtutibus aurum[ ].' what he meant by writing them i could not tell[ ]. he had caught cold a day or two ago, and the rain yesterday having made it worse, he was become very deaf. at breakfast he said, he would have given a good deal rather than not have lain in that bed. i owned he was the lucky man; and observed, that without doubt it had been contrived between mrs. macdonald and him. she seemed to acquiesce; adding, 'you know young _bucks_ are always favourites of the ladies.' he spoke of prince charles being here, and asked mrs. macdonald, '_who_ was with him? we were told, madam, in england, there was one miss flora macdonald with him.' she said, 'they were very right;' and perceiving dr. johnson's curiosity, though he had delicacy enough not to question her, very obligingly entertained him with a recital of the particulars which she herself knew of that escape, which does so much honour to the humanity, fidelity, and generosity of the highlanders. dr. johnson listened to her with placid attention, and said, 'all this should be written down.' from what she told us, and from what i was told by others personally concerned, and from a paper of information which rasay was so good as to send me, at my desire, i have compiled the following abstract, which, as it contains some curious anecdotes, will, i imagine, not be uninteresting to my readers, and even, perhaps, be of some use to future historians. * * * * * prince charles edward, after the battle of culloden, was conveyed to what is called the _long island_, where he lay for some time concealed. but intelligence having been obtained where he was, and a number of troops having come in quest of him, it became absolutely necessary for him to quit that country without delay. miss flora macdonald, then a young lady, animated by what she thought the sacred principle of loyalty, offered, with the magnanimity of a heroine, to accompany him in an open boat to sky, though the coast they were to quit was guarded by ships. he dressed himself in women's clothes, and passed as her supposed maid, by the name of betty bourke, an irish girl. they got off undiscovered, though several shots were fired to bring them to, and landed at mugstot, the seat of sir alexander macdonald. sir alexander was then at fort augustus, with the duke of cumberland; but his lady was at home. prince charles took his post upon a hill near the house. flora macdonald waited on lady margaret[ ], and acquainted her of the enterprise in which she was engaged. her ladyship, whose active benevolence was ever seconded by superior talents, shewed a perfect presence of mind, and readiness of invention, and at once settled that prince charles should be conducted to old rasay, who was himself concealed with some select friends. the plan was instantly communicated to kingsburgh, who was dispatched to the hill to inform the wanderer, and carry him refreshments. when kingsburgh approached, he started up, and advanced, holding a large knotted stick, and in appearance ready to knock him down, till he said, 'i am macdonald of kingsburgh, come to serve your highness.' the wanderer answered, 'it is well,' and was satisfied with the plan. flora macdonald dined with lady margaret, at whose table there sat an officer of the army, stationed here with a party of soldiers, to watch for prince charles in case of his flying to the isle of sky. she afterwards often laughed in good-humour with this gentleman, on her having so well deceived him. after dinner, flora macdonald on horseback, and her supposed maid, and kingsburgh, with a servant carrying some linen, all on foot, proceeded towards that gentleman's house. upon the road was a small rivulet which they were obliged to cross. the wanderer, forgetting his assumed sex, that his clothes might not be wet, held them up a great deal too high. kingsburgh mentioned this to him, observing, it might make a discovery. he said, he would be more careful for the future. he was as good as his word; for the next brook they crossed, he did not hold up his clothes at all, but let them float upon the water. he was very awkward in his female dress. his size was so large, and his strides so great, that some women whom they met reported that they had seen a very big woman, who looked like a man in woman's clothes, and that perhaps it was (as they expressed themselves) the _prince_, after whom so much search was making. at kingsburgh he met with a most cordial reception; seemed gay at supper, and after it indulged himself in a cheerful glass with his worthy host. as he had not had his clothes off for a long time, the comfort of a good bed was highly relished by him, and he slept soundly till next day at one o'clock. the mistress of corrichatachin told me, that in the forenoon she went into her father's room, who was also in bed, and suggested to him her apprehensions that a party of the military might come up, and that his guest and he had better not remain here too long. her father said, 'let the poor man repose himself after his fatigues; and as for me, i care not, though they take off this old grey head ten or eleven years sooner than i should die in the course of nature.' he then wrapped himself in the bed-clothes, and again fell fast asleep. on the afternoon of that day, the wanderer, still in the same dress, set out for portree, with flora macdonald and a man servant. his shoes being very bad, kingsburgh provided him with a new pair, and taking up the old ones, said, 'i will faithfully keep them till you are safely settled at st. james's. i will then introduce myself by shaking them at you, to put you in mind of your night's entertainment and protection under my roof.' he smiled, and said, 'be as good as your word!' kingsburgh kept the shoes as long as he lived. after his death, a zealous jacobite gentleman gave twenty guineas for them. old mrs. macdonald, after her guest had left the house, took the sheets in which he had lain, folded them carefully, and charged her daughter that they should be kept unwashed, and that, when she died, her body should be wrapped in them as a winding sheet. her will was religiously observed. upon the road to portree, prince charles changed his dress, and put on man's clothes again; a tartan short coat and waistcoat, with philibeg and short hose, a plaid, and a wig and bonnet. mr. donald m'donald, called donald roy, had been sent express to the present rasay, then the young laird, who was at that time at his sister's house, about three miles from portree, attending his brother, dr. macleod, who was recovering of a wound he had received at the battle of culloden. mr. m'donald communicated to young rasay the plan of conveying the wanderer to where old rasay was; but was told that old rasay had fled to knoidart, a part of glengary's estate. there was then a dilemma what should be done. donald roy proposed that he should conduct the wanderer to the main land; but young rasay thought it too dangerous at that time, and said it would be better to conceal him in the island of rasay, till old rasay could be informed where he was, and give his advice what was best. but the difficulty was, how to get him to rasay. they could not trust a portree crew, and all the rasay boats had been destroyed, or carried off by the military, except two belonging to malcolm m'leod, which he had concealed somewhere. dr. macleod being informed of this difficulty, said he would risk his life once more for prince charles; and it having occurred, that there was a little boat upon a fresh-water lake in the neighbourhood, young rasay and dr. macleod, with the help of some women, brought it to the sea, by extraordinary exertion, across a highland mile of land, one half of which was bog, and the other a steep precipice. these gallant brothers, with the assistance of one little boy, rowed the small boat to rasay, where they were to endeavour to find captain m'leod, as malcolm was then called, and get one of his good boats, with which they might return to portree, and receive the wanderer; or, in case of not finding him, they were to make the small boat serve, though the danger was considerable. fortunately, on their first landing, they found their cousin malcolm, who, with the utmost alacrity, got ready one of his boats, with two strong men, john m'kenzie, and donald m'friar. malcolm, being the oldest man, and most cautious, said, that as young rasay had not hitherto appeared in the unfortunate business, he ought not to run any risk; but that dr. macleod and himself, who were already publickly engaged, should go on this expedition. young rasay answered, with an oath, that he would go, at the risk of his life and fortune. 'in god's name then (said malcolm) let us proceed.' the two boatmen, however, now stopped short, till they should be informed of their destination; and m'kenzie declared he would not move an oar till he knew where they were going. upon which they were both sworn to secrecy; and the business being imparted to them, they were eager to put off to sea without loss of time. the boat soon landed about half a mile from the inn at portree. all this was negotiated before the wanderer got forward to portree. malcolm m'leod and m'friar were dispatched to look for him. in a short time he appeared, and went into the publick house. here donald roy, whom he had seen at mugstot, received him, and informed him of what had been concerted. he wanted silver for a guinea, but the landlord had only thirteen shillings. he was going to accept of this for his guinea; but donald roy very judiciously observed, that it would discover him to be some great man; so he desisted. he slipped out of the house, leaving his fair protectress, whom he never again saw; and malcolm macleod was presented to him by donald roy, as a captain in his army. young rasay and dr. macleod had waited, in impatient anxiety, in the boat. when he came, their names were announced to him. he would not permit the usual ceremonies of respect, but saluted them as his equals. donald roy staid in sky, to be in readiness to get intelligence, and give an alarm in case the troops should discover the retreat to rasay; and prince charles was then conveyed in a boat to that island in the night. he slept a little upon the passage, and they landed about day-break. there was some difficulty in accommodating him with a lodging, as almost all the houses in the island had been burnt by the soldiery. they repaired to a little hut, which some shepherds had lately built, and having prepared it as well as they could, and made a bed of heath for the stranger, they kindled a fire, and partook of some provisions which had been sent with him from kingsburgh. it was observed, that he would not taste wheat-bread, or brandy, while oat-bread and whisky lasted; 'for these, said he, are my own country bread and drink.'--this was very engaging to the highlanders. young rasay being the only person of the company that durst appear with safety, he went in quest of something fresh for them to eat: but though he was amidst his own cows, sheep, and goats, he could not venture to take any of them for fear of a discovery, but was obliged to supply himself by stealth. he therefore caught a kid, and brought it to the hut in his plaid, and it was killed and drest, and furnished them a meal which they relished much. the distressed wanderer, whose health was now a good deal impaired by hunger, fatigue, and watching, slept a long time, but seemed to be frequently disturbed. malcolm told me he would start from broken slumbers, and speak to himself in different languages, french, italian, and english. i must however acknowledge, that it is highly probable that my worthy friend malcolm did not know precisely the difference between french and italian. one of his expressions in english was, 'o god! poor scotland!' while they were in the hut, m'kenzie and m'friar, the two boatmen, were placed as sentinels upon different eminences; and one day an incident happened, which must not be omitted. there was a man wandering about the island, selling tobacco. nobody knew him, and he was suspected to be a spy. m'kenzie came running to the hut, and told that this suspected person was approaching. upon which the three gentlemen, young rasay, dr. macleod, and malcolm, held a council of war upon him, and were unanimously of opinion that he should instantly be put to death. prince charles, at once assuming a grave and even severe countenance, said, 'god forbid that we should take away a man's life, who may be innocent, while we can preserve our own.' the gentlemen however persisted in their resolution, while he as strenuously continued to take the merciful side. john m'kenzie, who sat watching at the door of the hut, and overheard the debate, said in erse, 'well, well; he must be shot. you are the king, but we are the parliament, and will do what we choose.' prince charles, seeing the gentlemen smile, asked what the man had said, and being told it in english, he observed that he was a clever fellow, and, notwithstanding the perilous situation in which he was, laughed loud and heartily. luckily the unknown person did not perceive that there were people in the hut, at least did not come to it, but walked on past it, unknowing of his risk. it was afterwards found out that he was one of the highland army, who was himself in danger. had he come to them, they were resolved to dispatch him; for, as malcolm said to me, 'we could not keep him with us, and we durst not let him go. in such a situation, i would have shot my brother, if i had not been sure of him.' john m'kenzie was at rasay's house when we were there[ ]. about eighteen years before, he hurt one of his legs when dancing, and being obliged to have it cut off, he now was going about with a wooden leg. the story of his being a _member of parliament_ is not yet forgotten. i took him out a little way from the house, gave him a shilling to drink rasay's health, and led him into a detail of the particulars which i have just related. with less foundation, some writers have traced the idea of a parliament, and of the british constitution, in rude and early times. i was curious to know if he had really heard, or understood, any thing of that subject, which, had he been a greater man, would probably have been eagerly maintained. 'why, john, (said i,) did you think the king should be controuled by a parliament?' he answered, 'i thought, sir, there were many voices against one.' the conversation then turning on the times, the wanderer said, that, to be sure, the life he had led of late was a very hard one; but he would rather live in the way he now did, for ten years, than fall into the hands of his enemies. the gentlemen asked him, what he thought his enemies would do with him, should he have the misfortune to fall into their hands. he said, he did not believe they would dare to take his life publickly, but he dreaded being privately destroyed by poison or assassination. he was very particular in his inquiries about the wound which dr. macleod had received at the battle of culloden, from a ball which entered at one shoulder, and went cross to the other. the doctor happened still to have on the coat which he wore on that occasion. he mentioned, that he himself had his horse shot under him at culloden; that the ball hit the horse about two inches from his knee, and made him so unruly that he was obliged to change him for another. he threw out some reflections on the conduct of the disastrous affair at culloden, saying, however, that perhaps it was rash in him to do so. i am now convinced that his suspicions were groundless; for i have had a good deal of conversation upon the subject with my very worthy and ingenious friend, mr. andrew lumisden, who was under secretary to prince charles, and afterwards principal secretary to his father at rome, who, he assured me, was perfectly satisfied both of the abilities and honour of the generals who commanded the highland army on that occasion. mr. lumisden has written an account of the three battles in - , at once accurate and classical[ ]. talking of the different highland corps, the gentlemen who were present wished to have his opinion which were the best soldiers. he said, he did not like comparisons among those corps: they were all best. he told his conductors, he did not think it advisable to remain long in any one place; and that he expected a french ship to come for him to lochbroom, among the mackenzies. it then was proposed to carry him in one of malcolm's boats to lochbroom, though the distance was fifteen leagues coastwise. but he thought this would be too dangerous, and desired that, at any rate, they might first endeavour to obtain intelligence. upon which young rasay wrote to his friend, mr. m'kenzie of applecross, but received an answer, that there was no appearance of any french ship. it was therefore resolved that they should return to sky, which they did, and landed in strath, where they reposed in a cow-house belonging to mr. niccolson of scorbreck. the sea was very rough, and the boat took in a good deal of water. the wanderer asked if there was danger, as he was not used to such a vessel. upon being told there was not, he sung an erse song with much vivacity. he had by this time acquired a good deal of the erse language. young rasay was now dispatched to where donald roy was, that they might get all the intelligence they could; and the wanderer, with much earnestness, charged dr. macleod to have a boat ready, at a certain place about seven miles off, as he said he intended it should carry him upon a matter of great consequence; and gave the doctor a case, containing a silver spoon, knife, and fork, saying, 'keep you that till i see you,' which the doctor understood to be two days from that time. but all these orders were only blinds; for he had another plan in his head, but wisely thought it safest to trust his secrets to no more persons than was absolutely necessary. having then desired malcolm to walk with him a little way from the house, he soon opened his mind, saying, 'i deliver myself to you. conduct me to the laird of m'kinnon's country.' malcolm objected that it was very dangerous, as so many parties of soldiers were in motion. he answered, 'there is nothing now to be done without danger.' he then said, that malcolm must be the master, and he the servant; so he took the bag, in which his linen was put up, and carried it on his shoulder; and observing that his waistcoat, which was of scarlet tartan, with a gold twist button, was finer than malcolm's, which was of a plain ordinary tartan, he put on malcolm's waistcoat, and gave him his; remarking at the same time, that it did not look well that the servant should be better dressed than the master. malcolm, though an excellent walker, found himself excelled by prince charles, who told him, he should not much mind the parties that were looking for him, were he once but a musket shot from them; but that he was somewhat afraid of the highlanders who were against him. he was well used to walking in italy, in pursuit of game; and he was even now so keen a sportsman, that, having observed some partridges, he was going to take a shot: but malcolm cautioned him against it, observing that the firing might be heard by the tenders[ ] who were hovering upon the coast. as they proceeded through the mountains, taking many a circuit to avoid any houses, malcolm, to try his resolution, asked him what they should do, should they fall in with a party of soldiers: he answered, 'fight, to be sure!' having asked malcolm if he should be known in his present dress, and malcolm having replied he would, he said, 'then i'll blacken my face with powder.' 'that, said malcolm, would discover you at once.' 'then, said he, i must be put in the greatest dishabille possible.' so he pulled off his wig, tied a handkerchief round his head, and put his night-cap over it, tore the ruffles from his shirt, took the buckles out of his shoes, and made malcolm fasten them with strings; but still malcolm thought he would be known. 'i have so odd a face, (said he) that no man ever saw me but he would know me again[ ].' he seemed unwilling to give credit to the horrid narrative of men being massacred in cold blood, after victory had declared for the army commanded by the duke of cumberland. he could not allow himself to think that a general could be so barbarous[ ]. when they came within two miles of m'kinnon's house, malcolm asked if he chose to see the laird. 'no, (said he) by no means. i know m'kinnon to be as good and as honest a man as any in the world, but he is not fit for my purpose at present. you must conduct me to some other house; but let it be a gentleman's house.' malcolm then determined that they should go to the house of his brother-in-law, mr. john m'kinnon, and from thence be conveyed to the main land of scotland, and claim the assistance of macdonald of scothouse. the wanderer at first objected to this, because scothouse was cousin to a person of whom he had suspicions. but he acquiesced in malcolm's opinion. when they were near mr. john m'kinnon's house, they met a man of the name of ross, who had been a private soldier in the highland army. he fixed his eyes steadily on the wanderer in his disguise, and having at once recognized him, he clapped his hands, and exclaimed, 'alas! is this the case?' finding that there was now a discovery, malcolm asked 'what's to be done?' 'swear him to secrecy,' answered prince charles. upon which malcolm drew his dirk, and on the naked blade, made him take a solemn oath, that he would say nothing of his having seen the wanderer, till his escape should be made publick. malcolm's sister, whose house they reached pretty early in the morning, asked him who the person was that was along with him. he said it was one lewis caw, from crieff, who being a fugitive like himself, for the same reason, he had engaged him as his servant, but that he had fallen sick. 'poor man! (said she) i pity him. at the same time my heart warms to a man of his appearance.' her husband was gone a little way from home; but was expected every minute to return. she set down to her brother a plentiful highland breakfast. prince charles acted the servant very well, sitting at a respectful distance, with his bonnet off. malcolm then said to him, 'mr. caw, you have as much need of this as i have; there is enough for us both: you had better draw nearer and share with me.' upon which he rose, made a profound bow, sat down at table with his supposed master, and eat very heartily. after this there came in an old woman, who, after the mode of ancient hospitality, brought warm water, and washed malcolm's feet. he desired her to wash the feet of the poor man who attended him. she at first seemed averse to this, from pride, as thinking him beneath her, and in the periphrastick language of the highlanders and the irish, said warmly, 'though i washed your father's son's feet, why should i wash his father's son's feet?' she was however persuaded to do it. they then went to bed, and slept for some time; and when malcolm awaked, he was told that mr. john m'kinnon, his brother-in-law, was in sight. he sprang out to talk to him before he should see prince charles. after saluting him, malcolm, pointing to the sea, said, 'what, john, if the prince should be prisoner on board one of those tenders?' 'god forbid!' replied john. 'what if we had him here?' said malcolm. 'i wish we had,' answered john; 'we should take care of him.' 'well, john,' said malcolm, 'he is in your house.' john, in a transport of joy, wanted to run directly in, and pay his obeisance; but malcolm stopped him, saying, 'now is your time to behave well, and do nothing that can discover him.' john composed himself, and having sent away all his servants upon different errands, he was introduced into the presence of his guest, and was then desired to go and get ready a boat lying near his house, which, though but a small leaky one, they resolved to take, rather than go to the laird of m'kinnon. john m'kinnon, however, thought otherwise; and upon his return told them, that his chief and lady m'kinnon were coming in the laird's boat. prince charles said to his trusty malcolm, 'i am sorry for this, but must make the best of it.' m'kinnon then walked up from the shore, and did homage to the wanderer. his lady waited in a cave, to which they all repaired, and were entertained with cold meat and wine. mr. malcolm m'leod being now superseded by the laird of m'kinnon, desired leave to return, which was granted him, and prince charles wrote a short note, which he subscribed _james thompson_, informing his friends that he had got away from sky, and thanking them for their kindness; and he desired this might be speedily conveyed to young rasay and dr. macleod, that they might not wait longer in expectation of seeing him again. he bade a cordial adieu to malcolm, and insisted on his accepting of a silver stock-buckle, and ten guineas from his purse, though, as malcolm told me, it did not appear to contain above forty. malcolm at first begged to be excused, saying, that he had a few guineas at his service; but prince charles answered, 'you will have need of money. i shall get enough when i come upon the main land.' the laird of m'kinnon then conveyed him to the opposite coast of knoidart. old rasay, to whom intelligence had been sent, was crossing at the same time to sky; but as they did not know of each other, and each had apprehensions, the two boats kept aloof. these are the particulars which i have collected concerning the extraordinary concealment and escapes of prince charles, in the hebrides. he was often in imminent danger.[ ] the troops traced him from the long island, across sky, to portree, but there lost him. here i stop,--having received no farther authentick information of his fatigues and perils before he escaped to france. kings and subjects may both take a lesson of moderation from the melancholy fate of the house of stuart; that kings may not suffer degradation and exile, and subjects may not be harassed by the evils of a disputed succession. let me close the scene on that unfortunate house with the elegant and pathetick reflections of _voltaire_, in his _histoire générale_:-- 'que les hommes privés (says that brilliant writer, speaking of prince charles) qui se croyent malheureux, jettent les yeux sur ce prince et ses ancêtres.'[ ] in another place he thus sums up the sad story of the family in general:-- 'il n'y a aucun exemple dans l'histoire d'une maison si longtems infortunée. le premier des rois d'�cosse, [ses aïeux] qui eut le nom de _jacques_, après avoir été dix-huit ans prisonnier en angleterre, mourut assassiné, avec sa femme, par la main de ses sujets. _jacques_ ii, son fils, fut tué à vingt-neuf ans en combattant contre les anglois. _jacques_ iii, mis en prison par son peuple, fut tué ensuite par les révoltés, dans une bataille. _jacques_ iv, périt dans un combat qu'il perdit. _marie stuart_, sa petite-fille, chassée de son trône, fugitive en angleterre, ayant langui dix-huit ans en prison, se vit condamnée à mort par des juges anglais, et eut la tête tranchée. _charles_ ier, petit-fils de _marie_, roi d'�cosse et d'angleterre, vendu par les �cossois, et jugé à mort par les anglais, mourut sur un échafaud dans la place publique. _jacques_, son fils, septième du nom, et deuxième en angleterre, fut chassé de ses trois royaumes; et pour comble de malheur on contesta à son fils [jusqu'à] sa naissance. ce fils ne tenta de remonter sur le trône de ses pères, que pour faire périr ses amis par des bourreaux; et nous avons vu le prince _charles �douard_, réunissant en vain les vertus de ses pères[ ] et le courage du roi _jean sobieski_, son aïeul maternel, exécuter les exploits et essuyer les malheurs les plus incroyables. si quelque chose justifie ceux qui croient une fatalité à laquelle rien ne peut se soustraire, c'est cette suite continuelle de malheurs qui a persécuté la maison de _stuart_, pendant plus de trois cents années.'[ ] the gallant malcolm was apprehended in about ten days after they separated, put aboard a ship and carried prisoner to london. he said, the prisoners in general were very ill treated in their passage; but there were soldiers on board who lived well, and sometimes invited him to share with them: that he had the good fortune not to be thrown into jail, but was confined in the house of a messenger, of the name of dick. to his astonishment, only one witness could be found against him, though he had been so openly engaged; and therefore, for want of sufficient evidence, he was set at liberty. he added, that he thought himself in such danger, that he would gladly have compounded for banishment[ ]. yet, he said, 'he should never be so ready for death as he then was[ ].' there is philosophical truth in this. a man will meet death much more firmly at one time than another. the enthusiasm even of a mistaken principle warms the mind, and sets it above the fear of death; which in our cooler moments, if we really think of it, cannot but be terrible, or at least very awful. miss flora macdonald being then also in london, under the protection of lady primrose[ ], that lady provided a post-chaise to convey her to scotland, and desired she might choose any friend she pleased to accompany her. she chose malcolm. 'so (said he, with a triumphant air) i went to london to be hanged, and returned in a post-chaise with miss flora macdonald.' mr. macleod of muiravenside, whom we saw at rasay, assured us that prince charles was in london in [ ], and that there was then a plan in agitation for restoring his family. dr. johnson could scarcely credit this story, and said, there could be no probable plan at that time. such an attempt could not have succeeded, unless the king of prussia had stopped the army in germany; for both the army and the fleet would, even without orders, have fought for the king, to whom they had engaged themselves. having related so many particulars concerning the grandson of the unfortunate king james the second; having given due praise to fidelity and generous attachment, which, however erroneous the judgment may be, are honourable for the heart; i must do the highlanders the justice to attest, that i found every where amongst them a high opinion of the virtues of the king now upon the throne, and an honest disposition to be faithful subjects to his majesty, whose family has possessed the sovereignty of this country so long, that a change, even for the abdicated family, would now hurt the best feelings of all his subjects. the _abstract_ point of _right_ would involve us in a discussion of remote and perplexed questions; and after all, we should have no clear principle of decision. that establishment, which, from political necessity, took place in , by a breach in the succession of our kings, and which, whatever benefits may have accrued from it, certainly gave a shock to our monarchy,[ ]--the able and constitutional blackstone wisely rests on the solid footing of authority. 'our ancestors having most indisputably a competent jurisdiction to decide this great and important question, and having, in fact, decided it, it is now become our duty, at this distance of time, to acquiesce in their determination.[ ]' mr. paley, the present archdeacon of carlisle, in his _principles of moral and political philosophy_, having, with much clearness of argument, shewn the duty of submission to civil government to be founded neither on an indefeasible _jus divinum_, nor on _compact_, but on _expediency_, lays down this rational position:-- 'irregularity in the first foundation of a state, or subsequent violence, fraud, or injustice, in getting possession of the supreme power, are not sufficient reasons for resistance, after the government is once peaceably settled. no subject of the _british_ empire conceives himself engaged to vindicate the justice of the _norman_ claim or conquest, or apprehends that his duty in any manner depends upon that controversy. so likewise, if the house of _lancaster_, or even the posterity of _cromwell_, had been at this day seated upon the throne of _england_, we should have been as little concerned to enquire how the founder of the family came there[ ].' in conformity with this doctrine, i myself, though fully persuaded that the house of _stuart_ had originally no right to the crown of _scotland_; for that _baliol_, and not _bruce_, was the lawful heir; should yet have thought it very culpable to have rebelled, on that account, against charles the first, or even a prince of that house much nearer the time, in order to assert the claim of the posterity of baliol. however convinced i am of the justice of that principle, which holds allegiance and protection to be reciprocal, i do however acknowledge, that i am not satisfied with the cold sentiment which would confine the exertions of the subject within the strict line of duty. i would have every breast animated with the _fervour_ of loyalty[ ]; with that generous attachment which delights in doing somewhat more than is required, and makes 'service perfect freedom[ ].' and, therefore, as our most gracious sovereign, on his accession to the throne, gloried in being _born a briton_[ ]; so, in my more private sphere, _ego me nunc_ denique natum, _gratulor_[ ]. i am happy that a disputed succession no longer distracts our minds; and that a monarchy, established by law, is now so sanctioned by time, that we can fully indulge those feelings of loyalty which i am ambitious to excite. they are feelings which have ever actuated the inhabitants of the highlands and the hebrides. the plant of loyalty is there in full vigour, and the brunswick graft now flourishes like a native shoot. to that spirited race of people i may with propriety apply the elegant lines of a modern poet, on the 'facile temper of the beauteous sex[ ]:'-- 'like birds new-caught, who flutter for a time, and struggle with captivity in vain; but by-and-by they rest, they smooth their plumes, and to _new masters_ sing their former notes[ ].' surely such notes are much better than the querulous growlings of suspicious whigs and discontented republicans. * * * * * kingsburgh conducted us in his boat across one of the lochs, as they call them, or arms of the sea, which flow in upon all the coasts of sky,--to a mile beyond a place called _grishinish_. our horses had been sent round by land to meet us. by this sail we saved eight miles of bad riding. dr. johnson said, 'when we take into computation what we have saved, and what we have gained, by this agreeable sail, it is a great deal.' he observed, 'it is very disagreeable riding in sky. the way is so narrow, one only at a time can travel, so it is quite unsocial; and you cannot indulge in meditation by yourself, because you must be always attending to the steps which your horse takes.' this was a just and clear description of its inconveniences. the topick of emigration being again introduced[ ], dr. johnson said, that 'a rapacious chief would make a wilderness of his estate.' mr. donald m'queen told us, that the oppression, which then made so much noise, was owing to landlords listening to bad advice in the letting of their lands; that interested and designed[ ] people flattered them with golden dreams of much higher rents than could reasonably be paid: and that some of the gentlemen _tacksmen_[ ], or upper tenants, were themselves in part the occasion of the mischief, by over-rating the farms of others. that many of the _tacksmen_, rather than comply with exorbitant demands, had gone off to america, and impoverished the country, by draining it of its wealth; and that their places were filled by a number of poor people, who had lived under them, properly speaking, as servants, paid by a certain proportion of the produce of the lands, though called sub-tenants. i observed, that if the men of substance were once banished from a highland estate, it might probably be greatly reduced in its value; for one bad year might ruin a set of poor tenants, and men of any property would not settle in such a country, unless from the temptation of getting land extremely cheap; for an inhabitant of any good county in britain, had better go to america than to the highlands or the hebrides. here, therefore, was a consideration that ought to induce a chief to act a more liberal part, from a mere motive of interest, independent of the lofty and honourable principle of keeping a clan together, to be in readiness to serve his king. i added, that i could not help thinking a little arbitrary power in the sovereign, to control the bad policy and greediness of the chiefs, might sometimes be of service. in france a chief would not be permitted to force a number of the king's subjects out of the country. dr. johnson concurred with me, observing, that 'were an oppressive chieftain a subject of the french king, he would probably be admonished by a _letter_.[ ]' during our sail, dr. johnson asked about the use of the dirk, with which he imagined the highlanders cut their meat. he was told, they had a knife and fork besides, to eat with. he asked, how did the women do? and was answered, some of them had a knife and fork too; but in general the men, when they had cut their meat, handed their knives and forks to the women, and they themselves eat with their fingers. the old tutor of macdonald always eat fish with his fingers, alledging that a knife and fork gave it a bad taste. i took the liberty to observe to dr. johnson, that he did so. 'yes, said he; but it is because i am short-sighted, and afraid of bones, for which reason i am not fond of eating many kinds of fish, because i must use my fingers.' dr. m'pherson's _dissertations on scottish antiquities_, which he had looked at when at corrichatachin[ ], being mentioned, he remarked, that 'you might read half an hour, and ask yourself what you had been reading: there were so many words to so little matter, that there was no getting through the book.' as soon as we reached the shore, we took leave of kingsburgh, and mounted our horses. we passed through a wild moor, in many places so soft that we were obliged to walk, which was very fatiguing to dr. johnson. once he had advanced on horseback to a very bad step. there was a steep declivity on his left, to which he was so near, that there was not room for him to dismount in the usual way. he tried to alight on the other side, as if he had been a _young buck_ indeed, but in the attempt he fell at his length upon the ground; from which, however, he got up immediately without being hurt. during this dreary ride, we were sometimes relieved by a view of branches of the sea, that universal medium of connection amongst mankind. a guide, who had been sent with us from kingsburgh, explored the way (much in the same manner as, i suppose, is pursued in the wilds of america,) by observing certain marks known only to the inhabitants. we arrived at dunvegan late in the afternoon. the great size of the castle, which is partly old and partly new, and is built upon a rock close to the sea, while the land around it presents nothing but wild, moorish, hilly, and craggy appearances, gave a rude magnificence to the scene. having dismounted, we ascended a flight of steps, which was made by the late macleod, for the accommodation of persons coming to him by land, there formerly being, for security, no other access to the castle but from the sea; so that visitors who came by the land were under the necessity of getting into a boat, and sailed round to the only place where it could be approached. we were introduced into a stately dining-room, and received by lady macleod, mother of the laird, who, with his friend talisker, having been detained on the road, did not arrive till some time after us. we found the lady of the house a very polite and sensible woman, who had lived for some time in london, and had there been in dr. johnson's company. after we had dined, we repaired to the drawing-room, where some of the young ladies of the family, with their mother, were at tea[ ]. this room had formerly been the bed-chamber of sir roderick macleod, one of the old lairds; and he chose it, because, behind it, there was a considerable cascade[ ], the sound of which disposed him to sleep. above his bed was this inscription: 'sir rorie m'leod of dunvegan, knight. god send good rest!' rorie is the contraction of roderick. he was called rorie _more_, that is, great rorie, not from his size, but from his spirit. our entertainment here was in so elegant a style, and reminded my fellow-traveller so much of england, that he became quite joyous. he laughed, and said, 'boswell, we came in at the wrong end of this island.' 'sir, (said i,) it was best to keep this for the last.' he answered, 'i would have it both first and last.' tuesday, september . dr. johnson said in the morning, 'is not this a fine lady[ ]?' there was not a word now of his 'impatience to be in civilized life[ ];--though indeed i should beg pardon,--he found it here. we had slept well, and lain long. after breakfast we surveyed the castle, and the garden. mr. bethune, the parish minister,--magnus m'leod, of claggan, brother to talisker, and m'leod of bay, two substantial gentlemen of the clan, dined with us. we had admirable venison, generous wine; in a word, all that a good table has. this was really the hall of a chief. lady m'leod had been much obliged to my father, who had settled by arbitration a variety of perplexed claims between her and her relation, the laird of brodie, which she now repaid by particular attention to me. m'leod started the subject of making women do penance in the church for fornication. johnson. 'it is right, sir. infamy is attached to the crime, by universal opinion, as soon as it is known. i would not be the man who would discover it, if i alone knew it, for a woman may reform; nor would i commend a parson who divulges a woman's first offence; but being once divulged, it ought to be infamous. consider, of what importance to society the chastity of women is. upon that all the property in the world depends[ ]. we hang a thief for stealing a sheep; but the unchastity of a woman transfers sheep, and farm and all, from the right owner. i have much more reverence for a common prostitute than for a woman who conceals her guilt. the prostitute is known. she cannot deceive: she cannot bring a strumpet into the arms of an honest man, without his knowledge. boswell. 'there is, however, a great difference between the licentiousness of a single woman, and that of a married woman.' johnson. 'yes, sir; there is a great difference between stealing a shilling, and stealing a thousand pounds; between simply taking a man's purse, and murdering him first, and then taking it. but when one begins to be vicious, it is easy to go on. where single women are licentious, you rarely find faithful married women.' boswell. 'and yet we are told that in some nations in india, the distinction is strictly observed.' johnson. 'nay, don't give us india. that puts me in mind of montesquieu, who is really a fellow of genius too in many respects; whenever he wants to support a strange opinion, he quotes you the practice of japan or of some other distant country of which he knows nothing. to support polygamy, he tells you of the island of formosa, where there are ten women born for one man[ ]. he had but to suppose another island, where there are ten men born for one woman, and so make a marriage between them.[ ]' at supper, lady macleod mentioned dr. cadogan's book on the gout[ ]. johnson. 'it is a good book in general, but a foolish one in particulars. it is good in general, as recommending temperance and exercise, and cheerfulness. in that respect it is only dr. cheyne's book told in a new way; and there should come out such a book every thirty years, dressed in the mode of the times. it is foolish, in maintaining that the gout is not hereditary, and that one fit of it, when gone, is like a fever when gone.' lady macleod objected that the author does not practise what he teaches[ ]. johnson. 'i cannot help that, madam. that does not make his book the worse. people are influenced more by what a man says, if his practice is suitable to it,--because they are blockheads. the more intellectual people are, the readier will they attend to what a man tells them. if it is just, they will follow it, be his practice what it will. no man practises so well as he writes. i have, all my life long, been lying till noon[ ]; yet i tell all young men, and tell them with great sincerity, that nobody who does not rise early will ever do any good. only consider! you read a book; you are convinced by it; you do not know the authour. suppose you afterwards know him, and find that he does not practise what he teaches; are you to give up your former conviction? at this rate you would be kept in a state of equilibrium, when reading every book, till you knew how the authour practised.[ ]' 'but,' said lady m'leod, 'you would think better of dr. cadogan, if he acted according to his principles.' johnson. 'why, madam, to be sure, a man who acts in the face of light, is worse than a man who does not know so much; yet i think no man should be the worse thought of for publishing good principles. there is something noble in publishing truth, though it condemns one's self.[ ]' i expressed some surprize at cadogan's recommending good humour, as if it were quite in our own power to attain it. johnson. 'why, sir, a man grows better humoured as he grows older. he improves by experience. when young, he thinks himself of great consequence, and every thing of importance. as he advances in life, he learns to think himself of no consequence, and little things of little importance; and so he becomes more patient, and better pleased. all good-humour and complaisance are acquired. naturally a child seizes directly what it sees, and thinks of pleasing itself only. by degrees, it is taught to please others, and to prefer others; and that this will ultimately produce the greatest happiness. if a man is not convinced of that, he never will practise it. common language speaks the truth as to this: we say, a person is well _bred_. as it is said, that all material motion is primarily in a right line, and is never _per circuitum_, never in another form, unless by some particular cause; so it may be said intellectual motion is.' lady m'leod asked, if no man was naturally good? johnson. 'no, madam, no more than a wolf.' boswell. 'nor no woman, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir.[ ]' lady m'leod started at this, saying, in a low voice, 'this is worse than swift.' m'leod of ulinish had come in the afternoon. we were a jovial company at supper. the laird, surrounded by so many of his clan, was to me a pleasing sight. they listened with wonder and pleasure, while dr. johnson harangued. i am vexed that i cannot take down his full strain of eloquence. wednesday, september . the gentlemen of the clan went away early in the morning to the harbour of lochbradale, to take leave of some of their friends who were going to america. it was a very wet day. we looked at rorie more's horn, which is a large cow's horn, with the mouth of it ornamented with silver curiously carved. it holds rather more than a bottle and a half. every laird of m'leod, it is said, must, as a proof of his manhood, drink it off full of claret, without laying it down. from rorie more many of the branches of the family are descended; in particular, the talisker branch; so that his name is much talked of. we also saw his bow, which hardly any man now can bend, and his _glaymore>_, which was wielded with both hands, and is of a prodigious size. we saw here some old pieces of iron armour, immensely heavy. the broadsword now used, though called the _glaymore, (i.e._ the _great sword_) is much smaller than that used in rorie more's time. there is hardly a target now to be found in the highlands. after the disarming act[ ], they made them serve as covers to their butter-milk barrels; a kind of change, like beating spears into pruning-hooks[ ]. sir george mackenzie's works (the folio edition) happened to lie in a window in the dining room. i asked dr. johnson to look at the _characteres advocatorum_. he allowed him power of mind, and that he understood very well what he tells[ ]; but said, that there was too much declamation, and that the latin was not correct. he found fault with _appropinquabant_[ ], in the character of gilmour. i tried him with the opposition between _gloria_ and _palma_, in the comparison between gilmour and nisbet, which lord hailes, in his _catalogue of the lords of session_, thinks difficult to be understood. the words are, _'penes illum gloria, penes hunc palma_[ ].' in a short _account of the kirk of scotland_, which i published some years ago, i applied these words to the two contending parties, and explained them thus: 'the popular party has most eloquence; dr. robertson's party most influence.' i was very desirous to hear dr. johnson's explication. johnson. 'i see no difficulty. gilmour was admired for his parts; nisbet carried his cause by his skill in law. _palma_ is victory.' i observed, that the character of nicholson, in this book resembled that of burke: for it is said, in one place, _'in omnes lusos & jocos se saepe resolvebat_[ ];' and, in another, _'sed accipitris more e conspectu aliquando astantium sublimi se protrahens volatu, in praedam miro impetu descendebat[ ]'._ johnson. 'no, sir; i never heard burke make a good joke in my life[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, you will allow he is a hawk.' dr. johnson, thinking that i meant this of his joking, said, 'no, sir, he is not the hawk there. he is the beetle in the mire[ ].' i still adhered to my metaphor,--'but he _soars_ as the hawk.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but he catches nothing.' m'leod asked, what is the particular excellence of burke's eloquence? johnson. 'copiousness and fertility of allusion; a power of diversifying his matter, by placing it in various relations. burke has great information, and great command of language; though, in my opinion, it has not in every respect the highest elegance.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, that burke has read cicero much?' johnson. 'i don't believe it, sir. burke has great knowledge, great fluency of words, and great promptness of ideas, so that he can speak with great illustration on any subject that comes before him. he is neither like cicero, nor like demosthenes[ ], nor like any one else, but speaks as well as he can.' in the th page of the first volume of sir george mackenzie, dr. johnson pointed out a paragraph beginning with _aristotle_, and told me there was an error in the text, which he bade me try to discover. i was lucky enough to hit it at once. as the passage is printed, it is said that the devil answers _even_ in _engines_. i corrected it to--_ever_ in _oenigmas_. 'sir, (said he,) you are a good critick. this would have been a great thing to do in the text of an ancient authour.' thursday, september . last night much care was taken of dr. johnson, who was still distressed by his cold. he had hitherto most strangely slept without a night-cap. miss m'leod made him a large flannel one, and he was prevailed with to drink a little brandy when he was going to bed. he has great virtue in not drinking wine or any fermented liquor, because, as he acknowledged to us, he could not do it in moderation[ ]. lady m'leod would hardly believe him, and said, 'i am sure, sir, you would not carry it too far.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it carried me. i took the opportunity of a long illness to leave it off. it was then prescribed to me not to drink wine; and, having broken off the habit, i have never returned to it[ ].' in the argument on tuesday night, about natural goodness, dr. johnson denied that any child was better than another, but by difference of instruction; though, in consequence of greater attention being paid to instruction by one child than another, and of a variety of imperceptible causes, such as instruction being counteracted by servants, a notion was conceived, that of two children, equally well educated, one was naturally much worse than another. he owned, this morning, that one might have a greater aptitude to learn than another, and that we inherit dispositions from our parents[ ]. 'i inherited, (said he,) a vile melancholy from my father, which has made me mad all my life, at least not sober[ ].' lady m'leod wondered he should tell this. 'madam, (said i,) he knows that with that madness he is superior to other men.' i have often been astonished with what exactness and perspicuity he will explain the process of any art. he this morning explained to us all the operation of coining, and, at night, all the operation of brewing, so very clearly, that mr. m'queen said, when he heard the first, he thought he had been bred in the mint; when he heard the second, that he had been bred a brewer. i was elated by the thought of having been able to entice such a man to this remote part of the world. a ludicrous, yet just image presented itself to my mind, which i expressed to the company. i compared myself to a dog who has got hold of a large piece of meat, and runs away with it to a corner, where he may devour it in peace, without any fear of others taking it from him. 'in london, reynolds, beauclerk, and all of them, are contending who shall enjoy dr. johnson's conversation. we are feasting upon it, undisturbed, at dunvegan.' it was still a storm of wind and rain. dr. johnson however walked out with m'leod, and saw rorie more's cascade in full perfection. colonel m'leod, instead of being all life and gaiety, as i have seen him, was at present grave, and somewhat depressed by his anxious concern about m'leod's affairs, and by finding some gentlemen of the clan by no means disposed to act a generous or affectionate part to their chief in his distress, but bargaining with him as with a stranger. however, he was agreeable and polite, and dr. johnson said, he was a very pleasing man. my fellow-traveller and i talked of going to sweden[ ]; and, while we were settling our plan, i expressed a pleasure in the prospect of seeing the king. johnson. 'i doubt, sir, if he would speak to us.' colonel m'leod said, 'i am sure mr. boswell would speak to _him_.' but, seeing me a little disconcerted by his remark, he politely added, 'and with great propriety.' here let me offer a short defence of that propensity in my disposition, to which this gentleman alluded. it has procured me much happiness. i hope it does not deserve so hard a name as either forwardness or impudence. if i know myself, it is nothing more than an eagerness to share the society of men distinguished either by their rank or their talents, and a diligence to attain what i desire[ ]. if a man is praised for seeking knowledge, though mountains and seas are in his way, may he not be pardoned, whose ardour, in the pursuit of the same object, leads him to encounter difficulties as great, though of a different kind? after the ladies were gone from table, we talked of the highlanders not having sheets; and this led us to consider the advantage of wearing linen. johnson. 'all animal substances are less cleanly than vegetable. wool, of which flannel is made, is an animal substance; flannel therefore is not so cleanly as linen. i remember i used to think tar dirty; but when i knew it to be only a preparation of the juice of the pine, i thought so no longer. it is not disagreeable to have the gum that oozes from a plum-tree upon your fingers, because it is vegetable; but if you have any candle-grease, any tallow upon your fingers, you are uneasy till you rub it off. i have often thought, that if i kept a seraglio, the ladies should all wear linen gowns,--or cotton; i mean stuffs made of vegetable substances. i would have no silk; you cannot tell when it is clean: it will be very nasty before it is perceived to be so. linen detects its own dirtiness.' to hear the grave dr. samuel johnson, 'that majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom,' while sitting solemn in an armchair in the isle of sky, talk, _ex cathedra_, of his keeping a seraglio[ ], and acknowledge that the supposition had _often_ been in his thoughts, struck me so forcibly with ludicrous contrast, that i could not but laugh immoderately. he was too proud to submit, even for a moment, to be the object of ridicule, and instantly retaliated with such keen sarcastick wit, and such a variety of degrading images, of every one of which i was the object, that, though i can bear such attacks as well as most men, i yet found myself so much the sport of all the company, that i would gladly expunge from my mind every trace of this severe retort. talking of our friend langton's house in lincolnshire, he said, 'the old house of the family was burnt. a temporary building was erected in its room; and to this day they have been always adding as the family increased. it is like a shirt made for a man when he was a child, and enlarged always as he grows older.' we talked to-night of luther's allowing the landgrave of hesse two wives, and that it was with the consent of the wife to whom he was first married. johnson. 'there was no harm in this, so far as she was only concerned, because _volenti non fit injuria_. but it was an offence against the general order of society, and against the law of the gospel, by which one man and one woman are to be united. no man can have two wives, but by preventing somebody else from having one.' friday, september . after dinner yesterday, we had a conversation upon cunning. m'leod said that he was not afraid of cunning people; but would let them play their tricks about him like monkeys. 'but, (said i,) they'll scratch;' and mr. m'queen added, 'they'll invent new tricks, as soon as you find out what they do.' johnson. 'cunning has effect from the credulity of others, rather than from the abilities of those who are cunning. it requires no extraordinary talents to lie and deceive[ ].' this led us to consider whether it did not require great abilities to be very wicked. johnson. 'it requires great abilities to have the _power_ of being very wicked; but not to _be_ very wicked. a man who has the power, which great abilities procure him, may use it well or ill; and it requires more abilities to use it well, than to use it ill. wickedness is always easier than virtue; for it takes the short cut to every thing. it is much easier to steal a hundred pounds, than to get it by labour, or any other way. consider only what act of wickedness requires great abilities to commit it, when once the person who is to do it has the power; for _there_ is the distinction. it requires great abilities to conquer an army, but none to massacre it after it is conquered.' the weather this day was rather better than any that we had since we came to dunvegan. mr. m'queen had often mentioned a curious piece of antiquity near this, which he called a temple of the goddess anaitis. having often talked of going to see it, he and i set out after breakfast, attended by his servant, a fellow quite like a savage. i must observe here, that in sky there seems to be much idleness; for men and boys follow you, as colts follow passengers upon a road. the usual figure of a sky-boy, is a _lown_ with bare legs and feet, a dirty _kilt_, ragged coat and waistcoat, a bare head, and a stick in his hand, which, i suppose, is partly to help the lazy rogue to walk, partly to serve as a kind of a defensive weapon. we walked what is called two miles, but is probably four, from the castle, till we came to the sacred place. the country around is a black dreary moor on all sides, except to the sea-coast, towards which there is a view through a valley; and the farm of _bay_ shews some good land. the place itself is green ground, being well drained by means of a deep glen on each side, in both of which there runs a rivulet with a good quantity of water, forming several cascades, which make a considerable appearance and sound. the first thing we came to was an earthen mound, or dyke, extending from the one precipice to the other. a little farther on was a strong stone-wall, not high, but very thick, extending in the same manner. on the outside of it were the ruins of two houses, one on each side of the entry or gate to it. the wall is built all along of uncemented stones, but of so large a size as to make a very firm and durable rampart. it has been built all about the consecrated ground, except where the precipice is steep enough to form an inclosure of itself. the sacred spot contains more than two acres. there are within it the ruins of many houses, none of them large,--a _cairn_,--and many graves marked by clusters of stones. mr. m'queen insisted that the ruin of a small building, standing east and west, was actually the temple of the goddess anaitis, where her statue was kept, and from whence processions were made to wash it in one of the brooks. there is, it must be owned, a hollow road, visible for a good way from the entrance; but mr. m'queen, with the keen eye of an antiquary, traced it much farther than i could perceive it. there is not above a foot and a half in height of the walls now remaining; and the whole extent of the building was never, i imagine, greater than an ordinary highland house. mr. m'queen has collected a great deal of learning on the subject of the temple of anaitis; and i had endeavoured, in my _journal_, to state such particulars as might give some idea of it, and of the surrounding scenery; but from the great difficulty of describing visible objects[ ], i found my account so unsatisfactory, that my readers would probably have exclaimed 'and write about it, _goddess_, and about it[ ];' and therefore i have omitted it. when we got home, and were again at table with dr. johnson, we first talked of portraits. he agreed in thinking them valuable in families. i wished to know which he preferred, fine portraits, or those of which the merit was resemblance. johnson. 'sir, their chief excellence is being like.' boswell. 'are you of that opinion as to the portraits of ancestors, whom one has never seen?' johnson. 'it then becomes of more consequence that they should be like; and i would have them in the dress of the times, which makes a piece of history. one should like to see how _rorie more_ looked. truth, sir, is of the greatest value in these things[ ].' mr. m'queen observed, that if you think it of no consequence whether portraits are like, if they are but well painted, you may be indifferent whether a piece of history is true or not, if well told. dr. johnson said at breakfast to-day, 'that it was but of late that historians bestowed pains and attention in consulting records, to attain to accuracy[ ]. bacon, in writing his history of henry vii, does not seem to have consulted any, but to have just taken what he found in other histories, and blended it with what he learnt by tradition.' he agreed with me that there should be a chronicle kept in every considerable family, to preserve the characters and transactions of successive generations. after dinner i started the subject of the temple of anaitis. mr. m'queen had laid stress on the name given to the place by the country people,--_ainnit_; and added, 'i knew not what to make of this piece of antiquity, till i met with the _anaitidis delubrum_ in lydia, mentioned by pausanias and the elder pliny.' dr. johnson, with his usual acuteness, examined mr. m'queen as to the meaning of the word _ainnit_, in erse; and it proved to be a _water-place_, or a place near water, 'which,' said mr. m'queen, 'agrees with all the descriptions of the temples of that goddess, which were situated near rivers, that there might be water to wash the statue.' johnson. 'nay, sir, the argument from the name is gone. the name is exhausted by what we see. we have no occasion to go to a distance for what we can pick up under our feet. had it been an accidental name, the similarity between it and anaitis might have had something in it; but it turns out to be a mere physiological name.' macleod said, mr. m'queen's knowledge of etymology had destroyed his conjecture. johnson. 'yes, sir; mr. m'queen is like the eagle mentioned by waller, who was shot with an arrow feather'd from his own wing[ ].' mr. m'queen would not, however, give up his conjecture. johnson. 'you have one possibility for you, and all possibilities against you. it is possible it may be the temple of anaitis. but it is also possible that it may be a fortification; or it may be a place of christian worship, as the first christians often chose remote and wild places, to make an impression on the mind; or, if it was a heathen temple, it may have been built near a river, for the purpose of lustration; and there is such a multitude of divinities, to whom it may have been dedicated, that the chance of its being a temple of _anaitis_ is hardly any thing. it is like throwing a grain of sand upon the sea-shore to-day, and thinking you may find it to-morrow. no, sir, this temple, like many an ill-built edifice, tumbles down before it is roofed in.' in his triumph over the reverend antiquarian, he indulged himself in a _conceit_; for, some vestige of the _altar_ of the goddess being much insisted on in support of the hypothesis, he said, 'mr. m'queen is fighting _pro_ aris _et focis'_. it was wonderful how well time passed in a remote castle, and in dreary weather. after supper, we talked of pennant. it was objected that he was superficial. dr. johnson defended him warmly[ ]. he said, 'pennant has greater variety of enquiry than almost any man, and has told us more than perhaps one in ten thousand could have done, in the time that he took. he has not said what he was to tell; so you cannot find fault with him, for what he has not told. if a man comes to look for fishes, you cannot blame him if he does not attend to fowls.' 'but,' said colonel m'leod, 'he mentions the unreasonable rise of rents in the highlands, and says, "the gentlemen are for emptying the bag, without filling it[ ];" for that is the phrase he uses. why does he not tell how to fill it?' johnson. 'sir, there is no end of negative criticism. he tells what he observes, and as much as he chooses. if he tells what is not true, you may find fault with him; but, though he tells that the land is not well cultivated, he is not obliged to tell how it may be well cultivated. if i tell that many of the highlanders go bare-footed, i am not obliged to tell how they may get shoes. pennant tells a fact. he need go no farther, except he pleases. he exhausts nothing; and no subject whatever has yet been exhausted. but pennant has surely told a great deal. here is a man six feet high, and you are angry because he is not seven.' notwithstanding this eloquent _oratio pro pennantio_, which they who have read this gentleman's _tours_, and recollect the _savage_ and the _shopkeeper_ at _monboddo_[ ], will probably impute to the spirit of contradiction, i still think that he had better have given more attention to fewer things, than have thrown together such a number of imperfect accounts. saturday, september . before breakfast, dr. johnson came up to my room to forbid me to mention that this was his birthday; but i told him i had done it already; at which he was displeased[ ]; i suppose from wishing to have nothing particular done on his account. lady m'leod and i got into a warm dispute. she wanted to build a house upon a farm which she has taken, about five miles from the castle, and to make gardens and other ornaments there; all of which i approved of; but insisted that the seat of the family should always be upon the rock of dunvegan. johnson. 'ay, in time we'll build all round this rock. you may make a very good house at the farm; but it must not be such as to tempt the laird of m'leod to go thither to reside. most of the great families in england have a secondary residence, which is called a jointure-house: let the new house be of that kind.' the lady insisted that the rock was very inconvenient; that there was no place near it where a good garden could be made; that it must always be a rude place; that it was a _herculean_ labour to make a dinner here. i was vexed to find the alloy of modern refinement in a lady who had so much old family spirit. 'madam, (said i,) if once you quit this rock, there is no knowing where you may settle. you move five miles first;--then to st. andrews, as the late laird did;--then to edinburgh;--and so on till you end at hampstead, or in france. no, no; keep to the rock: it is the very jewel of the estate. it looks as if it had been let down from heaven by the four corners, to be the residence of a chief. have all the comforts and conveniences of life upon it, but never leave rorie more's cascade.' 'but, (said she,) is it not enough if we keep it? must we never have more convenience than rorie more had? he had his beef brought to dinner in one basket, and his bread in another. why not as well be rorie more all over, as live upon his rock? and should not we tire, in looking perpetually on this rock? it is very well for you, who have a fine place, and every thing easy, to talk thus, and think of chaining honest folks to a rock. you would not live upon it yourself.' 'yes, madam, (said i,) i would live upon it, were i laird of m'leod, and should be unhappy if i were not upon it.' johnson. (with a strong voice, and most determined manner), 'madam, rather than quit the old rock, boswell would live in the pit; he would make his bed in the dungeon.' i felt a degree of elation, at finding my resolute feudal enthusiasm thus confirmed by such a sanction. the lady was puzzled a little. she still returned to her pretty farm,--rich ground,--fine garden. 'madam, (said dr. johnson,) were they in asia, i would not leave the rock.' my opinion on this subject is still the same. an ancient family residence ought to be a primary object; and though the situation of dunvegan be such that little can be done here in gardening, or pleasure-ground, yet, in addition to the veneration required by the lapse of time, it has many circumstances of natural grandeur, suited to the seat of a highland chief: it has the sea--islands--rocks,--hills, --a noble cascade; and when the family is again in opulence, something may be done by art. mr. donald m'queen went away to-day, in order to preach at bracadale next day. we were so comfortably situated at dunvegan, that dr. johnson could hardly be moved from it. i proposed to him that we should leave it on monday. 'no, sir, (said he,) i will not go before wednesday. i will have some more of this good[ ].' however, as the weather was at this season so bad, and so very uncertain, and we had a great deal to do yet, mr. m'queen and i prevailed with him to agree to set out on monday, if the day should be good. mr. m'queen, though it was inconvenient for him to be absent from his harvest, engaged to wait on monday at ulinish for us. when he was going away, dr. johnson said, 'i shall ever retain a great regard for you[ ];' then asked him if he had _the rambler_. mr. m'queen said, 'no; but my brother has it.' johnson. 'have you _the idler_? m'queen. 'no, sir.' johnson. 'then i will order one for you at edinburgh, which you will keep in remembrance of me.' mr. m'queen was much pleased with this. he expressed to me, in the strongest terms, his admiration of dr. johnson's wonderful knowledge, and every other quality for which he is distinguished. i asked mr. m'queen, if he was satisfied with being a minister in sky. he said he was; but he owned that his forefathers having been so long there, and his having been born there, made a chief ingredient in forming his contentment. i should have mentioned that on our left hand, between portree and dr. macleod's house, mr. m'queen told me there had been a college of the knights templars; that tradition said so; and that there was a ruin remaining of their church, which had been burnt: but i confess dr. johnson has weakened my belief in remote tradition. in the dispute about _anaitis_, mr. m'queen said, asia minor was peopled by scythians, and, as they were the ancestors of the celts, the same religion might be in asia minor and sky. johnson. 'alas! sir, what can a nation that has not letters tell of its original. i have always difficulty to be patient when i hear authours gravely quoted, as giving accounts of savage nations, which accounts they had from the savages themselves. what can the _m'craas_[ ] tell about themselves a thousand years ago? there is no tracing the connection of ancient nations, but by language; and therefore i am always sorry when any language is lost, because languages are the pedigree of nations[ ]. if you find the same language in distant countries, you may be sure that the inhabitants of each have been the same people; that is to say, if you find the languages a good deal the same; for a word here and there being the same, will not do. thus butler, in his _hudibras_, remembering that _penguin_, in the straits of magellan, signifies a bird with a white head, and that the same word has, in wales, the signification of a white-headed wench, (_pen_ head, and _guin_ white,) by way of ridicule, concludes that the people of those straits are welsh[ ].' a young gentleman of the name of m'lean, nephew to the laird of the isle of muck, came this morning; and, just as we sat down to dinner, came the laird of the isle, of muck himself, his lady, sister to talisker, two other ladies their relations, and a daughter of the late m'leod of hamer, who wrote a treatise on the second sight, under the designation of theophilus insulanus[ ]. it was somewhat droll to hear this laird called by his title. _muck_ would have sounded ill; so he was called _isle of muck_, which went off with great readiness. the name, as now written, is unseemly, but it is not so bad in the original erse, which is _mouach_, signifying the sows' island. buchanan calls it insula porcorum. it is so called from its form. some call it isle of _monk_. the laird insists that this is the proper name. it was formerly church-land belonging to icolmkill, and a hermit lived in it. it is two miles long, and about three quarters of a mile broad. the laird said, he had seven score of souls upon it. last year he had eighty persons inoculated, mostly children, but some of them eighteen years of age. he agreed with the surgeon to come and do it, at half a crown a head. it is very fertile in corn, of which they export some; and its coasts abound in fish. a taylor comes there six times in a year. they get a good blacksmith from the isle of egg. sunday, september . it was rather worse weather than any that we had yet. at breakfast dr. johnson said, 'some cunning men choose fools for their wives, thinking to manage them, but they always fail. there is a spaniel fool and a mule fool. the spaniel fool may be made to do by beating. the mule fool will neither do by words or blows; and the spaniel fool often turns mule at last: and suppose a fool to be made do pretty well, you must have the continual trouble of making her do. depend upon it, no woman is the worse for sense and knowledge.[ ]' whether afterwards he meant merely to say a polite thing, or to give his opinion, i could not be sure; but he added, 'men know that women are an over-match for them, and therefore they choose the weakest or most ignorant. if they did not think so, they never could be afraid of women knowing as much as themselves.'[ ] in justice to the sex, i think it but candid to acknowledge, that, in a subsequent conversation, he told me that he was serious in what he had said. he came to my room this morning before breakfast, to read my journal, which he has done all along. he often before said, 'i take great delight in reading it.' to-day he said, 'you improve: it grows better and better.' i observed, there was a danger of my getting a habit of writing in a slovenly manner. 'sir,' said he, 'it is not written in a slovenly manner. it might be printed, were the subject fit for printing[ ].' while mr. beaton preached to us in the dining-room, dr. johnson sat in his own room, where i saw lying before him a volume of lord bacon's works, _the decay of christian piety_, monboddo's _origin of language_, and sterne's _sermons_[ ]. he asked me to-day how it happened that we were so little together: i told him, my journal took up much time. yet, on reflection, it appeared strange to me, that although i will run from one end of london to another to pass an hour with him, i should omit to seize any spare time to be in his company, when i am settled in the same house with him. but my journal is really a task of much time and labour, and he forbids me to contract it. i omitted to mention, in its place, that dr. johnson told mr. m'queen that he had found the belief of the second sight universal in sky, except among the clergy, who seemed determined against it. i took the liberty to observe to mr. m'queen, that the clergy were actuated by a kind of vanity. 'the world, (say they,) takes us to be credulous men in a remote corner. we'll shew them that we are more enlightened than they think.' the worthy man said, that his disbelief of it was from his not finding sufficient evidence; but i could perceive that he was prejudiced against it[ ]. after dinner to-day, we talked of the extraordinary fact of lady grange's being sent to st. kilda, and confined there for several years, without any means of relief[ ]. dr. johnson said, if m'leod would let it be known that he had such a place for naughty ladies, he might make it a very profitable island. we had, in the course of our tour, heard of st. kilda poetry. dr. johnson observed, 'it must be very poor, because they have very few images.' boswell. 'there may be a poetical genius shewn in combining these, and in making poetry of them.' johnson. 'sir, a man cannot make fire but in proportion as he has fuel. he cannot coin guineas but in proportion as he has gold.' at tea he talked of his intending to go to italy in . m'leod said, he would like paris better. johnson. 'no, sir; there are none of the french literati now alive, to visit whom i would cross a sea. i can find in buffon's book all that he can say[ ].' after supper he said, 'i am sorry that prize-fighting is gone out[ ]; every art should be preserved, and the art of defence is surely important. it is absurd that our soldiers should have swords, and not be taught the use of them. prize-fighting made people accustomed not to be alarmed at seeing their own blood, or feeling a little pain from a wound. i think the heavy _glaymore_ was an ill-contrived weapon. a man could only strike once with it. it employed both his hands, and he must of course be soon fatigued with wielding it; so that if his antagonist could only keep playing a while, he was sure of him. i would fight with a dirk against rorie more's sword. i could ward off a blow with a dirk, and then run in upon my enemy. when within that heavy sword, i have him; he is quite helpless, and i could stab him at my leisure, like a calf. it is thought by sensible military men, that the english do not enough avail themselves of their superior strength of body against the french; for that must always have a great advantage in pushing with bayonets. i have heard an officer say, that if women could be made to stand, they would do as well as men in a mere interchange of bullets from a distance: but, if a body of men should come close up to them, then to be sure they must be overcome; now, (said he,) in the same manner the weaker-bodied french must be overcome by our strong soldiers.' the subject of duelling was introduced[ ] johnson. 'there is no case in england where one or other of the combatants _must_ die: if you have overcome your adversary by disarming him, that is sufficient, though you should not kill him; your honour, or the honour of your family, is restored, as much as it can be by a duel. it is cowardly to force your antagonist to renew the combat, when you know that you have the advantage of him by superior skill. you might just as well go and cut his throat while he is asleep in his bed. when a duel begins, it is supposed there may be an equality; because it is not always skill that prevails. it depends much on presence of mind; nay on accidents. the wind may be in a man's face. he may fall. many such things may decide the superiority. a man is sufficiently punished, by being called out, and subjected to the risk that is in a duel.' but on my suggesting that the injured person is equally subjected to risk, he fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of duelling. monday, september . when i awaked, the storm was higher still. it abated about nine, and the sun shone; but it rained again very soon, and it was not a day for travelling. at breakfast, dr. johnson told us, 'there was once a pretty good tavern in catherine-street in the strand, where very good company met in an evening, and each man called for his own half-pint of wine, or gill, if he pleased; they were frugal men, and nobody paid but for what he himself drank. the house furnished no supper; but a woman attended with mutton-pies, which any body might purchase. i was introduced to this company by cumming the quaker[ ], and used to go there sometimes when i drank wine. in the last age, when my mother lived in london, there were two sets of people, those who gave the wall, and those who took it; the peaceable and the quarrelsome. when i returned to lichfield, after having been in london, my mother asked me whether i was one of those who gave the wall, or those who took it. now, it is fixed that every man keeps to the right; or, if one is taking the wall, another yields it, and it is never a dispute[ ].' he was very severe on a lady, whose name was mentioned. he said, he would have sent her to st. kilda. that she was as bad as negative badness could be, and stood in the way of what was good: that insipid beauty would not go a great way; and that such a woman might be cut out of a cabbage, if there was a skilful artificer. m'leod was too late in coming to breakfast. dr. johnson said, laziness was worse than the tooth-ach. boswell. 'i cannot agree with you, sir; a bason of cold water or a horse whip will cure laziness.' johnson. 'no, sir, it will only put off the fit; it will not cure the disease. i have been trying to cure my laziness all my life, and could not do it.' boswell. 'but if a man does in a shorter time what might be the labour of a life, there is nothing to be said against him.' johnson (perceiving at once that i alluded to him and his _dictionary_). 'suppose that flattery to be true, the consequence would be, that the world would have no right to censure a man; but that will not justify him to himself[ ].' after breakfast, he said to me, 'a highland chief should now endeavour to do every thing to raise his rents, by means of the industry of his people. formerly, it was right for him to have his house full of idle fellows; they were his defenders, his servants, his dependants, his friends. now they may be better employed. the system of things is now so much altered, that the family cannot have influence but by riches, because it has no longer the power of ancient feudal times. an individual of a family may have it; but it cannot now belong to a family, unless you could have a perpetuity of men with the same views. m'leod has four times the land that the duke of bedford has. i think, with his spirit, he may in time make himself the greatest man in the king's dominions; for land may always be improved to a certain degree. i would never have any man sell land, to throw money into the funds, as is often done, or to try any other species of trade. depend upon it, this rage of trade will destroy itself. you and i shall not see it; but the time will come when there will be an end of it. trade is like gaming. if a whole company are gamesters, play must cease; for there is nothing to be won. when all nations are traders, there is nothing to be gained by trade[ ], and it will stop first where it is brought to the greatest perfection. then the proprietors of land only will be the great men.' i observed, it was hard that m'leod should find ingratitude in so many of his people. johnson. 'sir, gratitude is a fruit of great cultivation; you do not find it among gross people.' i doubt of this. nature seems to have implanted gratitude in all living creatures[ ]. the lion, mentioned by aulus gellius, had it[ ]. it appears to me that culture, which brings luxury and selfishness with it, has a tendency rather to weaken than promote this affection. dr. johnson said this morning, when talking of our setting out, that he was in the state in which lord bacon represents kings. he desired the end, but did not like the means[ ]. he wished much to get home, but was unwilling to travel in sky. 'you are like kings too in this, sir, (said i,) that you must act under the direction of others.' tuesday, september . the uncertainty of our present situation having prevented me from receiving any letters from home for some time, i could not help being uneasy. dr. johnson had an advantage over me, in this respect, he having no wife or child to occasion anxious apprehensions in his mind[ ]. it was a good morning; so we resolved to set out. but, before quitting this castle, where we have been so well entertained, let me give a short description of it. along the edge of the rock, there are the remains of a wall, which is now covered with ivy. a square court is formed by buildings of different ages, particularly some towers, said to be of great antiquity; and at one place there is a row of false cannon of stone[ ]. there is a very large unfinished pile, four stories high, which we were told was here when _leod_, the first of this family, came from the isle of man, married the heiress of the m'crails, the ancient possessors of dunvegan, and afterwards acquired by conquest as much land as he had got by marriage. he surpassed the house of austria; for he was _felix_ both _bella gerere_ et _nubere_[ ]. john _breck_ m'leod, the grandfather of the late laird, began to repair the castle, or rather to complete it: but he did not live to finish his undertaking[ ]. not doubting, however, that he should do it, he, like those who have had their epitaphs written before they died, ordered the following inscription, composed by the minister of the parish, to be cut upon a broad stone above one of the lower windows, where it still remains to celebrate what was not done, and to serve as a memento of the uncertainty of life, and the presumption of man:-- 'joannes macleod beganoduni dominus gentis suae philarchus[ ], durinesiae haraiae vaternesiae, &c.: baro d. florae macdonald matrimoniali vinculo conjugatus turrem hanc beganodunensem proavorum habitaculum longe vetustissimum diu penitus labefectatam anno aerae vulgaris mdclxxxvi. instauravit. 'quem stabilire juvat proavorum tecta vetusta, omne scelus fugiat, justitiamque colat. vertit in aerias turres magalia virtus, inque casas humiles tecta superba nefas.' m'leod and talisker accompanied us. we passed by the parish church of _durinish_. the church-yard is not inclosed, but a pretty murmuring brook runs along one side of it. in it is a pyramid erected to the memory of thomas lord lovat, by his son lord simon, who suffered on tower-hill[ ]. it is of free-stone, and, i suppose, about thirty feet high. there is an inscription on a piece of white marble inserted in it, which i suspect to have been the composition of lord lovat himself, being much in his pompous style:-- 'this pyramid was erected by simon lord fraser of lovat, in honour of lord thomas his father, a peer of scotland, and chief of the great and ancient clan of the frasers. being attacked for his birthright by the family of atholl, then in power and favour with king william, yet, by the valour and fidelity of his clan, and the assistance of the campbells, the old friends and allies of his family, he defended his birthright with such greatness and fermety of soul, and such valour and activity, that he was an honour to his name, and a good pattern to all brave chiefs of clans. he died in the month of may, , in the rd year of his age, in dunvegan, the house of the laird of mac leod, whose sister he had married: by whom he had the above simon lord fraser, and several other children. and, for the great love he bore to the family of mac leod, he desired to be buried near his wife's relations, in the place where two of her uncles lay. and his son lord simon, to shew to posterity his great affection for his mother's kindred, the brave mac leods, chooses rather to leave his father's bones with them, than carry them to his own burial-place, near lovat.' i have preserved this inscription[ ], though of no great value, thinking it characteristical of a man who has made some noise in the world. dr. johnson said, it was poor stuff, such as lord lovat's butler might have written. i observed, in this church-yard, a parcel of people assembled at a funeral, before the grave was dug. the coffin, with the corpse in it, was placed on the ground, while the people alternately assisted in making a grave. one man, at a little distance, was busy cutting a long turf for it, with the crooked spade which is used in sky; a very aukward instrument. the iron part of it is like a plough-coulter. it has a rude tree for a handle, in which a wooden pin is placed for the foot to press upon. a traveller might, without further enquiry, have set this down as the mode of burying in sky. i was told, however, that the usual way is to have a grave previously dug. i observed to-day, that the common way of carrying home their grain here is in loads on horseback. they have also a few sleds, or _cars_, as we call them in ayrshire, clumsily made, and rarely used[ ]. we got to ulinish about six o'clock, and found a very good farm-house, of two stories. mr. m'leod of ulinish, the sheriff-substitute of the island, was a plain honest gentleman, a good deal like an english justice of peace; not much given to talk, but sufficiently sagacious, and somewhat droll. his daughter, though she was never out of sky, was a very well-bred woman. our reverend friend, mr. donald m'queen, kept his appointment, and met us here. talking of phipps's voyage to the north pole, dr. johnson observed, that it 'was conjectured that our former navigators have kept too near land, and so have found the sea frozen far north, because the land hinders the free motion of the tide; but, in the wide ocean, where the waves tumble at their full convenience, it is imagined that the frost does not take effect.'[ ] wednesday, september . in the morning i walked out, and saw a ship, the margaret of clyde, pass by with a number of emigrants on board. it was a melancholy sight. after breakfast, we went to see what was called a subterraneous house, about a mile off. it was upon the side of a rising ground. it was discovered by a fox's having taken up his abode in it, and in chasing him, they dug into it. it was very narrow and low, and seemed about forty feet in length. near it, we found the foundations of several small huts, built of stone. mr. m'queen, who is always for making every thing as ancient as possible, boasted that it was the dwelling of some of the first inhabitants of the island, and observed, what a curiosity it was to find here a specimen of the houses of the _aborigines_, which he believed could be found no where else; and it was plain that they lived without fire. dr. johnson remarked, that they who made this were not in the rudest state; for that it was more difficult to make _it_ than to build a house; therefore certainly those who made it were in possession of houses, and had this only as a hiding-place. it appeared to me, that the vestiges of houses, just by it, confirmed dr. johnson's opinion. from an old tower, near this place, is an extensive view of loch-braccadil, and, at a distance, of the isles of barra and south uist; and on the land-side, the _cuillin_, a prodigious range of mountains, capped with rocky pinnacles in a strange variety of shapes. they resemble the mountains near corté in corsica, of which there is a very good print. they make part of a great range for deer, which, though entirely devoid of trees, is in these countries called a _forest_. in the afternoon, ulinish carried us in his boat to an island possessed by him, where we saw an immense cave, much more deserving the title of _antrum immane_[ ] than that of the sybil described by virgil, which i likewise have visited. it is one hundred and eighty feet long, about thirty feet broad, and at least thirty feet high. this cave, we were told, had a remarkable echo; but we found none[ ]. they said it was owing to the great rains having made it damp. such are the excuses by which the exaggeration of highland narratives is palliated. there is a plentiful garden at ulinish, (a great rarity in sky,) and several trees; and near the house is a hill, which has an erse name, signifying, _'the hill of strife'_, where, mr. m'queen informed us, justice was of old administered. it is like the _mons placiti_ of scone, or those hills which are called _laws_[ ], such as kelly _law_, north berwick _law_, and several others. it is singular that this spot should happen now to be the sheriff's residence. we had a very cheerful evening, and dr. johnson talked a good deal on the subject of literature. speaking of the noble family of boyle, he said, that all the lord orrerys, till the present, had been writers. the first wrote several plays[ ]; the second[ ] was bentley's antagonist; the third[ ] wrote the _life of swift_, and several other things; his son hamilton wrote some papers in the _adventurer_ and _world_. he told us, he was well acquainted with swift's lord orrery. he said, he was a feebleminded man; that, on the publication of dr. delany's _remarks_ on his book, he was so much alarmed that he was afraid to read them. dr. johnson comforted him, by telling him they were both in the right; that delany had seen most of the good side of swift,--lord orrery most of the bad. m'leod asked, if it was not wrong in orrery to expose the defects of a man with whom he lived in intimacy. johnson. 'why no, sir, after the man is dead; for then it is done historically[ ].' he added, 'if lord orrery had been rich, he would have been a very liberal patron. his conversation was like his writings, neat and elegant, but without strength. he grasped at more than his abilities could reach; tried to pass for a better talker, a better writer, and a better thinker than he was[ ]. there was a quarrel between him and his father, in which his father was to blame; because it arose from the son's not allowing his wife to keep company with his father's mistress. the old lord shewed his resentment in his will[ ],--leaving his library from his son, and assigning, as his reason, that he could not make use of it.' i mentioned the affectation of orrery, in ending all his letters on the _life of swift_ in studied varieties of phrase[ ], and never in the common mode of _'i am'_, &c., an observation which i remember to have been made several years ago by old mr. sheridan. this species of affectation in writing, as a foreign lady of distinguished talents once remarked to me, is almost peculiar to the english. i took up a volume of dryden, containing the conquest of granada, and several other plays, of which all the dedications had such studied conclusions. dr. johnson said, such conclusions were more elegant, and in addressing persons of high rank, (as when dryden dedicated to the duke of york[ ],) they were likewise more respectful. i agreed that _there_ it was much better: it was making his escape from the royal presence with a genteel sudden timidity, in place of having the resolution to stand still, and make a formal bow. lord orrery's unkind treatment of his son in his will, led us to talk of the dispositions a man should have when dying. i said, i did not see why a man should act differently with respect to those of whom he thought ill when in health, merely because he was dying. johnson. 'i should not scruple to speak against a party, when dying; but should not do it against an individual. it is told of sixtus quintus, that on his death-bed, in the intervals of his last pangs, he signed death-warrants[ ].' mr. m'queen said, he should not do so; he would have more tenderness of heart. johnson. 'i believe i should not either; but mr. m'queen and i are cowards[ ]. it would not be from tenderness of heart; for the heart is as tender when a man is in health as when he is sick, though his resolution may be stronger[ ]. sixtus quintus was a sovereign as well as a priest; and, if the criminals deserved death, he was doing his duty to the last. you would not think a judge died ill, who should be carried off by an apoplectick fit while pronouncing sentence of death. consider a class of men whose business it is to distribute death:--soldiers, who die scattering bullets. nobody thinks they die ill on that account.' talking of biography, he said, he did not think that the life of any literary man in england had been well written[ ]. beside the common incidents of life, it should tell us his studies, his mode of living, the means by which he attained to excellence, and his opinion of his own works. he told us, he had sent derrick to dryden's relations, to gather materials for his life[ ]; and he believed derrick[ ] had got all that he himself should have got; but it was nothing. he added, he had a kindness for derrick, and was sorry he was dead. his notion as to the poems published by mr. m'pherson, as the works of ossian, was not shaken here. mr. m'queen always evaded the point of authenticity, saying only that mr. m'pherson's pieces fell far short of those he knew in erse, which were said to be ossian's. johnson. 'i hope they do. i am not disputing that you may have poetry of great merit; but that m'pherson's is not a translation from ancient poetry. you do not believe it. i say before you, you do not believe it, though you are very willing that the world should believe it.' mr. m'queen made no answer to this[ ]. dr. johnson proceeded. 'i look upon m'pherson's _fingal_ to be as gross an imposition as ever the world was troubled with. had it been really an ancient work, a true specimen how men thought at that time, it would have been a curiosity of the first rate. as a modern production, it is nothing.' he said, he could never get the meaning of an _erse_ song explained to him[ ]. they told him, the chorus was generally unmeaning. 'i take it, (said he,) erse songs are like a song which i remember: it was composed in queen elizabeth's time, on the earl of essex: and the burthen was "radaratoo, radarate, radara tadara tandore."' 'but surely,' said mr. m'queen, 'there were words to it, which had meaning.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir; i recollect a stanza, and you shall have it:-- "o! then bespoke the prentices all, living in london, both proper and tall, for essex's sake they would fight all. radaratoo, radarate, radara, tadara, tandore[ ]."' when mr. m'queen began again to expatiate on the beauty of ossian's poetry, dr. johnson entered into no farther controversy, but, with a pleasant smile, only cried, 'ay, ay; _radaratoo radarate'_. thursday, september . i took _fingal_ down to the parlour in the morning, and tried a test proposed by mr. roderick m'leod, son to ulinish. mr. m'queen had said he had some of the poem in the original. i desired him to mention any passage in the printed book, of which he could repeat the original. he pointed out one in page of the quarto edition, and read the erse, while mr. roderick m'leod and i looked on the english;--and mr. m'leod said, that it was pretty like what mr. m'queen had recited. but when mr. m'queen read a description of cuchullin's sword in erse, together with a translation of it in english verse, by sir james foulis, mr. m'leod said, that was much more like than mr. m'pherson's translation of the former passage. mr. m'queen then repeated in erse a description of one of the horses in cuchillin's car. mr. m'leod said, mr. m'pherson's english was nothing like it. when dr. johnson came down, i told him that i had now obtained some evidence concerning _fingal_; for that mr. m'queen had repeated a passage in the original erse, which mr. m'pherson's translation was pretty like; and reminded him that he himself had once said, he did not require mr. m'pherson's _ossian_ to be more like the original than pope's _homer_. johnson. 'well, sir, this is just what i always maintained. he has found names, and stories, and phrases, nay, passages in old songs, and with them has blended his own compositions, and so made what he gives to the world as the translation of an ancient poem.' if this was the case, i observed, it was wrong to publish it as a poem in six books. johnson. 'yes, sir; and to ascribe it to a time too when the highlanders knew nothing of _books_, and nothing of _six_;--or perhaps were got the length of counting six. we have been told, by condamine, of a nation that could count no more than four[ ]. this should be told to monboddo; it would help him. there is as much charity in helping a man down-hill, as in helping him up-hill.' boswell. 'i don't think there is as much charity.' johnson. 'yes, sir, if his _tendency_ be downwards. till he is at the bottom he flounders; get him once there, and he is quiet. swift tells, that stella had a trick, which she learned from addison, of encouraging a man in absurdity, instead of endeavouring to extricate him[ ].' mr. m'queen's answers to the inquiries concerning _ossian_ were so unsatisfactory, that i could not help observing, that, were he examined in a court of justice, he would find himself under a necessity of being more explicit. johnson. 'sir, he has told blair a little too much, which is published[ ]; and he sticks to it. he is so much at the head of things here, that he has never been accustomed to be closely examined; and so he goes on quite smoothly.' boswell. 'he has never had any body to work[ ] him.' johnson. 'no, sir; and a man is seldom disposed to work himself; though he ought to work himself, to be sure.' mr. m'queen made no reply[ ]. having talked of the strictness with which witnesses are examined in courts of justice, dr. johnson told us, that garrick, though accustomed to face multitudes, when produced as a witness in westminster-hall, was so disconcerted by a new mode of public appearance, that he could not understand what was asked[ ]. it was a cause where an actor claimed a _free benefit_; that is to say, a benefit without paying the expence of the house; but the meaning of the term was disputed. garrick was asked, 'sir, have you a free benefit?' 'yes.' 'upon what terms have you it?' 'upon-the terms-of-a free benefit.' he was dismissed as one from whom no information could be obtained. dr. johnson is often too hard on our friend mr. garrick. when i asked him why he did not mention him in the preface to his _shakspeare_[ ] he said, 'garrick has been liberally paid for any thing he has done for shakspeare. if i should praise him, i should much more praise the nation who paid him. he has not made shakspeare better known[ ]; he cannot illustrate shakspeare; so i have reasons enough against mentioning him, were reasons necessary. there should be reasons _for_ it.' i spoke of mrs. montague's very high praises of garrick[ ]. johnson. 'sir, it is fit she should say so much, and i should say nothing. reynolds is fond of her book, and i wonder at it; for neither i, nor beauclerk, nor mrs. thrale, could get through it[ ].' last night dr. johnson gave us an account of the whole process of tanning and of the nature of milk, and the various operations upon it, as making whey, &c. his variety of information is surprizing[ ]; and it gives one much satisfaction to find such a man bestowing his attention on the useful arts of life. ulinish was much struck with his knowledge; and said, 'he is a great orator, sir; it is musick to hear this man speak.' a strange thought struck me, to try if he knew any thing of an art, or whatever it should be called, which is no doubt very useful in life, but which lies far out of the way of a philosopher and a poet; i mean the trade of a butcher. i enticed him into the subject, by connecting it with the various researches into the manners and customs of uncivilized nations, that have been made by our late navigators into the south seas. i began with observing, that mr. (now sir joseph) banks tells us, that the art of slaughtering animals was not known in otaheité, for, instead of bleeding to death their dogs, (a common food with them,) they strangle them. this he told me himself; and i supposed that their hogs were killed in the same way. dr. johnson said, 'this must be owing to their not having knives,--though they have sharp stones with which they can cut a carcase in pieces tolerably.' by degrees, he shewed that he knew something even of butchery. 'different animals (said he) are killed differently. an ox is knocked down, and a calf stunned; but a sheep has its throat cut, without any thing being done to stupify it. the butchers have no view to the ease of the animals, but only to make them quiet, for their own safety and convenience. a sheep can give them little trouble. hales[ ] is of opinion, that every animal should be blooded, without having any blow given to it, because it bleeds better.' boswell. 'that would be cruel.' johnson. 'no, sir; there is not much pain, if the jugular vein be properly cut.' pursuing the subject, he said, the kennels of southwark ran with blood two or three days in the week; that he was afraid there were slaughter-houses in more streets in london than one supposes; (speaking with a kind of horrour of butchering;) and, yet he added, 'any of us would kill a cow rather than not have beef.' i said we _could_ not. 'yes, (said he,) any one may. the business of a butcher is a trade indeed, that is to say, there is an apprenticeship served to it; but it may be learnt in a month[ ].' i mentioned a club in london at the boar's head in eastcheap, the very tavern[ ] where falstaff and his joyous companions met; the members of which all assume shakspeare's characters. one is falstaff, another prince henry, another bardolph, and so on. johnson. 'don't be of it, sir. now that you have a name, you must be careful to avoid many things, not bad in themselves, but which will lessen your character[ ]. this every man who has a name must observe. a man who is not publickly known may live in london as he pleases, without any notice being taken of him; but it is wonderful how a person of any consequence is watched. there was a member of parliament, who wanted to prepare himself to speak on a question that was to come on in the house; and he and i were to talk it over together. he did not wish it should be known that he talked with me; so he would not let me come to his house, but came to mine. some time after he had made his speech in the house, mrs. cholmondeley[ ], a very airy[ ] lady, told me, 'well, you could make nothing of him!' naming the gentleman; which was a proof that he was watched. i had once some business to do for government, and i went to lord north's. precaution was taken that it should not be known. it was dark before i went; yet a few days after i was told, 'well, you have been with lord north.' that the door of the prime minister should be watched is not strange; but that a member of parliament should be watched, or that my door should be watched, is wonderful.' we set out this morning on our way to talisker, in ulinish's boat, having taken leave of him and his family. mr. donald m'queen still favoured us with his company, for which we were much obliged to him. as we sailed along dr. johnson got into one of his fits of railing at the scots. he owned that they had been a very learned nation for a hundred years, from about to about ; but that they afforded the only instance of a people among whom the arts of civil life did not advance in proportion with learning; that they had hardly any trade, any money, or any elegance, before the union; that it was strange that, with all the advantages possessed by other nations, they had not any of those conveniencies and embellishments which are the fruit of industry, till they came in contact with a civilized people. 'we have taught you, (said he,) and we'll do the same in time to all barbarous nations,--to the cherokees,--and at last to the ouran-outangs;' laughing with as much glee as if monboddo had been present. boswell. 'we had wine before the union.' johnson. 'no, sir; you had some weak stuff, the refuse of france, which would not make you drunk.' boswell. 'i assure you, sir, there was a great deal of drunkenness.' johnson. 'no, sir; there were people who died of dropsies, which they contracted in trying to get drunk[ ].' i must here glean some of his conversation at ulinish, which i have omitted. he repeated his remark, that a man in a ship was worse than a man in a jail[ ]. 'the man in a jail, (said he,) has more room, better food, and commonly better company, and is in safety.' 'ay; but, (said mr. m'queen,) the man in the ship has the pleasing hope of getting to shore.' johnson. 'sir, i am not talking of a man's getting to shore; but of a man while he is in a ship: and then, i say, he is worse than a man while he is in a jail. a man in a jail _may_ have the _"pleasing hope"_ of getting out. a man confined for only a limited time, actually _has_ it.' m'leod mentioned his schemes for carrying on fisheries with spirit, and that he would wish to understand the construction of boats. i suggested that he might go to a dock-yard and work, as peter the great did. johnson. 'nay, sir, he need not work. peter the great had not the sense to see that the mere mechanical work may be done by any body, and that there is the same art in constructing a vessel, whether the boards are well or ill wrought. sir christopher wren might as well have served his time to a bricklayer, and first, indeed, to a brick-maker.' there is a beautiful little island in the loch of dunvegan, called _isa_. m'leod said, he would give it to dr. johnson, on condition of his residing on it three months in the year; nay one month. dr. johnson was highly amused with the fancy. i have seen him please himself with little things, even with mere ideas like the present. he talked a great deal of this island;--how he would build a house there,--how he would fortify it,--how he would have cannon,--how he would plant,--how he would sally out, and _take_ the isle of muck;--and then he laughed with uncommon glee, and could hardly leave off. i have seen him do so at a small matter that struck him, and was a sport to no one else[ ]. mr. langton told me, that one night he did so while the company were all grave about him:--only garrick, in his significant smart manner, darting his eyes around, exclaimed, '_very_ jocose, to be sure!' m'leod encouraged the fancy of doctor johnson's becoming owner of an island; told him, that it was the practice in this country to name every man by his lands; and begged leave to drink to him in that mode: '_island isa_, your health!' ulinish, talisker, mr. m'queen, and i, all joined in our different manners, while dr. johnson bowed to each, with much good humour. we had good weather, and a fine sail this day. the shore was varied with hills, and rocks, and corn-fields, and bushes, which are here dignified with the name of natural _wood_. we landed near the house of ferneley, a farm possessed by another gentleman of the name of m'leod, who, expecting our arrival, was waiting on the shore, with a horse for dr. johnson. the rest of us walked. at dinner, i expressed to m'leod the joy which i had in seeing him on such cordial terms with his clan. 'government (said he) has deprived us of our ancient power; but it cannot deprive us of our domestick satisfactions. i would rather drink punch in one of their houses, (meaning the houses of his people,) than be enabled by their hardships to have claret in my own.[ ]' this should be the sentiment of every chieftain. all that he can get by raising his rents, is more luxury in his own house. is it not better to share the profits of his estate, to a certain degree, with his kinsmen, and thus have both social intercourse and patriarchal influence? we had a very good ride, for about three miles, to talisker, where colonel m'leod introduced us to his lady. we found here mr. donald m'lean, the young laird of _col_, (nephew to talisker,) to whom i delivered the letter with which i had been favoured by his uncle, professor m'leod, at aberdeen[ ]. he was a little lively young man. we found he had been a good deal in england, studying farming, and was resolved to improve the value of his father's lands, without oppressing his tenants, or losing the ancient highland fashions. talisker is a better place than one commonly finds in sky. it is situated in a rich bottom. before it is a wide expanse of sea, on each hand of which are immense rocks; and, at some distance in the sea, there are three columnal rocks rising to sharp points. the billows break with prodigious force and noise on the coast of talisker[ ]. there are here a good many well-grown trees. talisker is an extensive farm. the possessor of it has, for several generations, been the next heir to m'leod, as there has been but one son always in that family. the court before the house is most injudiciously paved with the round blueish-grey pebbles which are found upon the sea-shore; so that you walk as if upon cannon-balls driven into the ground. after supper, i talked of the assiduity of the scottish clergy, in visiting and privately instructing their parishioners, and observed how much in this they excelled the english clergy. dr. johnson would not let this pass. he tried to turn it off, by saying, 'there are different ways of instructing. our clergy pray and preach.' m'leod and i pressed the subject, upon which he grew warm, and broke forth: 'i do not believe your people are better instructed. if they are, it is the blind leading the blind; for your clergy are not instructed themselves.' thinking he had gone a little too far, he checked himself, and added, 'when i talk of the ignorance of your clergy, i talk of them as a body: i do not mean that there are not individuals who are learned (looking at mr. m'queen[ ]). i suppose there are such among the clergy in muscovy. the clergy of england have produced the most valuable books in support of religion, both in theory and practice. what have your clergy done, since you sunk into presbyterianism? can you name one book of any value, on a religious subject, written by them[ ]?' we were silent. 'i'll help you. forbes wrote very well; but i believe he wrote before episcopacy was quite extinguished.' and then pausing a little, he said, 'yes, you have wishart against repentance[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, we are not contending for the superior learning of our clergy, but for their superior assiduity.' he bore us down again, with thundering against their ignorance, and said to me, 'i see you have not been well taught; for you have not charity.' he had been in some measure forced into this warmth, by the exulting air which i assumed; for, when he began, he said, 'since you _will_ drive the nail!' he again thought of good mr. m'queen, and, taking him by the hand, said, 'sir, i did not mean any disrespect to you[ ].' here i must observe, that he conquered by deserting his ground, and not meeting the argument as i had put it. the assiduity of the scottish clergy is certainly greater than that of the english. his taking up the topick of their not having so much learning, was, though ingenious, yet a fallacy in logick. it was as if there should be a dispute whether a man's hair is well dressed, and dr. johnson should say, 'sir, his hair cannot be well dressed; for he has a dirty shirt. no man who has not clean linen has his hair well dressed.' when some days afterwards he read this passage, he said, 'no, sir; i did not say that a man's hair could not be well dressed because he has not clean linen, but because he is bald.' he used one argument against the scottish clergy being learned, which i doubt was not good. 'as we believe a man dead till we know that he is alive; so we believe men ignorant till we know that they are learned.' now our maxim in law is, to presume a man alive, till we know he is dead. however, indeed, it may be answered, that we must first know he has lived; and that we have never known the learning of the scottish clergy. mr. m'queen, though he was of opinion that dr. johnson had deserted the point really in dispute, was much pleased with what he said, and owned to me, he thought it very just; and mrs. m'leod was so much captivated by his eloquence, that she told me 'i was a good advocate for a bad cause.' friday, september . this was a good day. dr. johnson told us, at breakfast, that he rode harder at a fox chace than any body[ ]. 'the english (said he) are the only nation who ride hard a-hunting. a frenchman goes out, upon a managed[ ] horse, and capers in the field, and no more thinks of leaping a hedge than of mounting a breach. lord powerscourt laid a wager, in france, that he would ride a great many miles in a certain short time. the french academicians set to work, and calculated that, from the resistance of the air, it was impossible. his lordship however performed it.' our money being nearly exhausted, we sent a bill for thirty pounds, drawn on sir william forbes and co.[ ], to lochbraccadale, but our messenger found it very difficult to procure cash for it; at length, however, he got us value from the master of a vessel which was to carry away some emigrants. there is a great scarcity of specie in sky[ ]. mr. m'queen said he had the utmost difficulty to pay his servants' wages, or to pay for any little thing which he has to buy. the rents are paid in bills[ ], which the drovers give. the people consume a vast deal of snuff and tobacco, for which they must pay ready money; and pedlars, who come about selling goods, as there is not a shop in the island, carry away the cash. if there were encouragement given to fisheries and manufactures, there might be a circulation of money introduced. i got one-and-twenty shillings in silver at portree, which was thought a wonderful store. talisker, mr. m'queen, and i, walked out, and looked at no less than fifteen different waterfalls near the house, in the space of about a quarter of a mile[ ]. we also saw cuchillin's well, said to have been the favourite spring of that ancient hero. i drank of it. the water is admirable. on the shore are many stones full of crystallizations in the heart. though our obliging friend, mr. m'lean, was but the young laird, he had the title of _col_ constantly given him. after dinner he and i walked to the top of prieshwell, a very high rocky hill, from whence there is a view of barra,--the long island,--bernera,--the loch of dunvegan,--part of rum--part of rasay, and a vast deal of the isle of sky. col, though he had come into sky with an intention to be at dunvegan, and pass a considerable time in the island, most politely resolved first to conduct us to mull, and then to return to sky. this was a very fortunate circumstance; for he planned an expedition for us of more variety than merely going to mull. he proposed we should see the islands of _egg, muck, col,_ and _tyr-yi_. in all these islands he could shew us every thing worth seeing; and in mull he said he should be as if at home, his father having lands there, and he a farm. dr. johnson did not talk much to-day, but seemed intent in listening to the schemes of future excursion, planned by col. dr. birch[ ], however, being mentioned, he said, he had more anecdotes than any man. i said, percy had a great many; that he flowed with them like one of the brooks here. johnson. 'if percy is like one of the brooks here, birch was like the river thames. birch excelled percy in that, as much as percy excels goldsmith.' i mentioned lord hailes as a man of anecdote. he was not pleased with him, for publishing only such memorials and letters as were unfavourable for the stuart family[ ]. 'if, (said he,) a man fairly warns you, "i am to give all the ill; do you find the good;" he may: but if the object which he professes be to give a view of a reign, let him tell all the truth. i would tell truth of the two georges, or of that scoundrel, king william[ ]. granger's _biographical history_[ ] is full of curious anecdote, but might have been better done. the dog is a whig. i do not like much to see a whig in any dress; but i hate to see a whig in a parson's gown[ ].' saturday, september . it was resolved that we should set out, in order to return to slate, to be in readiness to take boat whenever there should be a fair wind. dr. johnson remained in his chamber writing a letter, and it was long before we could get him into motion. he did not come to breakfast, but had it sent to him. when he had finished his letter, it was twelve o'clock, and we should have set out at ten. when i went up to him, he said to me, 'do you remember a song which begins, "every island is a prison[ ] strongly guarded by the sea; kings and princes, for that reason, prisoners are, as well as we?"' i suppose he had been thinking of our confined situation[ ]. he would fain have gone in a boat from hence, instead of riding back to slate. a scheme for it was proposed. he said, 'we'll not be driven tamely from it:'-but it proved impracticable. we took leave of m'leod and talisker, from whom we parted with regret. talisker, having been bred to physick, had a tincture of scholarship in his conversation, which pleased dr. johnson, and he had some very good books; and being a colonel in the dutch service, he and his lady, in consequence of having lived abroad, had introduced the ease and politeness of the continent into this rude region. young col was now our leader. mr. m'queen was to accompany us half a day more. we stopped at a little hut, where we saw an old woman grinding with the _quern_, the ancient highland instrument, which it is said was used by the romans, but which, being very slow in its operation, is almost entirely gone into disuse. the walls of the cottages in sky, instead of being one compacted mass of stones, are often formed by two exterior surfaces of stone, filled up with earth in the middle, which makes them very warm. the roof is generally bad. they are thatched, sometimes with straw, sometimes with heath, sometimes with fern. the thatch is secured by ropes of straw, or of heath; and, to fix the ropes, there is a stone tied to the end of each. these stones hang round the bottom of the roof, and make it look like a lady's hair in papers; but i should think that, when there is wind, they would come down, and knock people on the head. we dined at the inn at sconser, where i had the pleasure to find a letter from my wife. here we parted from our learned companion, mr. donald m'queen. dr. johnson took leave of him very affectionately, saying, 'dear sir, do not forget me!' we settled, that he should write an account of the isle of sky, which dr. johnson promised to revise. he said, mr. m'queen should tell all that he could; distinguishing what he himself knew, what was traditional, and what conjectural. we sent our horses round a point of land, that we might shun some very bad road; and resolved to go forward by sea. it was seven o'clock when we got into our boat. we had many showers, and it soon grew pretty dark. dr. johnson sat silent and patient. once he said, as he looked on the black coast of sky,-black, as being composed of rocks seen in the dusk,--'this is very solemn.' our boatmen were rude singers, and seemed so like wild indians, that a very little imagination was necessary to give one an impression of being upon an american river. we landed at _strolimus_, from whence we got a guide to walk before us, for two miles, to _corrichatachin_. not being able to procure a horse for our baggage, i took one portmanteau before me, and joseph another. we had but a single star to light us on our way. it was about eleven when we arrived. we were most hospitably received by the master and mistress, who were just going to bed, but, with unaffected ready kindness, made a good fire, and at twelve o'clock at night had supper on the table. james macdonald, of _knockow_, kingsburgh's brother, whom we had seen at kingsburgh, was there. he shewed me a bond granted by the late sir james macdonald, to old kingsburgh, the preamble of which does so much honour to the feelings of that much-lamented gentleman, that i thought it worth transcribing. it was as follows:-- 'i, sir james macdonald, of macdonald, baronet, now, after arriving at my perfect age, from the friendship i bear to alexander macdonald of kingsburgh, and in return for the long and faithful services done and performed by him to my deceased father, and to myself during my minority, when he was one of my tutors and curators; being resolved, now that the said alexander macdonald is advanced in years, to contribute my endeavours for making his old age placid and comfortable,'-- therefore he grants him an annuity of fifty pounds sterling. dr. johnson went to bed soon. when one bowl of punch was finished, i rose, and was near the door, in my way up stairs to bed; but corrichatachin said, it was the first time col had been in his house, and he should have his bowl;-and would not i join in drinking it? the heartiness of my honest landlord, and the desire of doing social honour to our very obliging conductor, induced me to sit down again. col's bowl was finished; and by that time we were well warmed. a third bowl was soon made, and that too was finished. we were cordial, and merry to a high degree; but of what passed i have no recollection, with any accuracy. i remember calling _corrichatachin_ by the familiar appellation of _corri_, which his friends do. a fourth bowl was made, by which time col, and young m'kinnon, corrichatachin's son, slipped away to bed. i continued a little with corri and knockow; but at last i left them. it was near five in the morning when i got to bed. sunday, september i awaked at noon, with a severe head-ach. i was much vexed that i should have been guilty of such a riot, and afraid of a reproof from dr. johnson. i thought it very inconsistent with that conduct which i ought to maintain, while the companion of the rambler. about one he came into my room, and accosted me, 'what, drunk yet?' his tone of voice was not that of severe upbraiding; so i was relieved a little. 'sir, (said i,) they kept me up.' he answered, 'no, you kept them up, you drunken dog:'-this he said with good-humoured _english_ pleasantry. soon afterwards, corrichatachin, col, and other friends assembled round my bed. corri had a brandy-bottle and glass with him, and insisted i should take a dram. 'ay, said dr. johnson, fill him drunk again. do it in the morning, that we may laugh at him all day. it is a poor thing for a fellow to get drunk at night, and sculk to bed, and let his friends have no sport.' finding him thus jocular, i became quite easy; and when i offered to get up, he very good naturedly said, 'you need be in no such hurry now[ ].' i took my host's advice, and drank some brandy, which i found an effectual cure for my head-ach. when i rose, i went into dr. johnson's room, and taking up mrs. m'kinnon's prayer-book, i opened it at the twentieth sunday after trinity, in the epistle for which i read, 'and be not drunk with wine, wherein there is excess[ ].' some would have taken this as a divine interposition. mrs. m'kinnon told us at dinner, that old kingsburgh, her father, was examined at mugstot, by general campbell, as to the particulars of the dress of the person who had come to his house in woman's clothes along with miss flora m'donald; as the general had received intelligence of that disguise. the particulars were taken down in writing, that it might be seen how far they agreed with the dress of the _irish girl_ who went with miss flora from the long island. kingsburgh, she said, had but one song, which he always sung when he was merry over a glass. she dictated the words to me, which are foolish enough:-- 'green sleeves[ ] and pudding pies, tell me where my mistress lies, and i'll be with her before she rise, fiddle and aw' together. may our affairs abroad succeed, and may our king come home with speed, and all pretenders shake for dread, and let _his_ health go round. to all our injured friends in need, this side and beyond the tweed!-- let all pretenders shake for dread, and let _his_ health go round. green sleeves,' &c. while the examination was going on, the present talisker, who was there as one of m'leod's militia, could not resist the pleasantry of asking kingsburgh, in allusion to his only song, 'had she _green sleeves_?' kingsburgh gave him no answer. lady margaret m'donald was very angry at talisker for joking on such a serious occasion, as kingsburgh was really in danger of his life. mrs. m'kinnon added that lady margaret was quite adored in sky. that when she travelled through the island, the people ran in crowds before her, and took the stones off the road, lest her horse should stumble and she be hurt[ ]. her husband, sir alexander, is also remembered with great regard. we were told that every week a hogshead of claret was drunk at his table. this was another day of wind and rain; but good cheer and good society helped to beguile the time. i felt myself comfortable enough in the afternoon. i then thought that my last night's riot was no more than such a social excess as may happen without much moral blame; and recollected that some physicians maintained, that a fever produced by it was, upon the whole, good for health: so different are our reflections on the same subject, at different periods; and such the excuses with which we palliate what we know to be wrong. monday, september . mr. donald m'leod, our original guide, who had parted from us at dunvegan, joined us again to-day. the weather was still so bad that we could not travel. i found a closet here, with a good many books, beside those that were lying about. dr. johnson told me, he found a library in his room at talisker; and observed, that it was one of the remarkable things of sky, that there were so many books in it. though we had here great abundance of provisions, it is remarkable that corrichatachin has literally no garden: not even a turnip, a carrot, or a cabbage. after dinner, we talked of the crooked spade used in sky, already described, and they maintained that it was better than the usual garden-spade, and that there was an art in tossing it, by which those who were accustomed to it could work very easily with it. 'nay, (said dr. johnson,) it may be useful in land where there are many stones to raise; but it certainly is not a good instrument for digging good land. a man may toss it, to be sure; but he will toss a light spade much better: its weight makes it an incumbrance. a man _may_ dig any land with it; but he has no occasion for such a weight in digging good land. you may take a field piece to shoot sparrows; but all the sparrows you can bring home will not be worth the charge.' he was quite social and easy amongst them; and, though he drank no fermented liquor, toasted highland beauties with great readiness. his conviviality engaged them so much, that they seemed eager to shew their attention to him, and vied with each other in crying out, with a strong celtick pronunciation, 'toctor shonson, toctor shonson, your health!' this evening one of our married ladies, a lively pretty little woman, good-humouredly sat down upon dr. johnson's knee, and, being encouraged by some of the company, put her hands round his neck, and kissed him. 'do it again, (said he,) and let us see who will tire first.' he kept her on his knee some time, while he and she drank tea. he was now like a _buck_[ ] indeed. all the company were much entertained to find him so easy and pleasant. to me it was highly comick, to see the grave philosopher,--the rambler,-toying with a highland beauty[ ]!--but what could he do? he must have been surly, and weak too, had he not behaved as he did. he would have been laughed at, and not more respected, though less loved. he read to-night, to himself, as he sat in company, a great deal of my journal, and said to me, 'the more i read of this, i think the more highly of you.' the gentlemen sat a long time at their punch, after he and i had retired to our chambers. the manner in which they were attended struck me as singular:--the bell being broken, a smart lad lay on a table in the corner of the room, ready to spring up and bring the kettle, whenever it was wanted. they continued drinking, and singing erse songs, till near five in the morning, when they all came into my room, where some of them had beds. unluckily for me, they found a bottle of punch in a corner, which they drank; and corrichatachin went for another, which they also drank. they made many apologies for disturbing me. i told them, that, having been kept awake by their mirth, i had once thoughts of getting up, and joining them again. honest corrichatachin said, 'to have had you done so, i would have given a cow.' tuesday, september . the weather was worse than yesterday. i felt as if imprisoned. dr. johnson said, it was irksome to be detained thus: yet he seemed to have less uneasiness, or more patience, than i had. what made our situation worse here was, that we had no rooms that we could command; for the good people had no notion that a man could have any occasion but for a mere sleeping-place; so, during the day, the bed chambers were common to all the house. servants eat in dr. johnson's; and mine was a kind of general rendezvous of all under the roof, children and dogs not excepted. as the gentlemen occupied the parlour, the ladies had no place to sit in, during the day, but dr. johnson's room. i had always some quiet time for writing in it, before he was up; and, by degrees, i accustomed the ladies to let me sit in it after breakfast, at my _journal_, without minding me. dr. johnson was this morning for going to see as many islands as we could; not recollecting the uncertainty of the season, which might detain us in one place for many weeks. he said to me, 'i have more the spirit of adventure than you.' for my part, i was anxious to get to mull, from whence we might almost any day reach the main land. dr. johnson mentioned, that the few ancient irish gentlemen yet remaining have the highest pride of family; that mr. sandford, a friend of his, whose mother was irish, told him, that o'hara (who was true irish, both by father and mother) and he, and mr. ponsonby, son to the earl of besborough, the greatest man of the three, but of an english family, went to see one of those ancient irish, and that he distinguished them thus: 'o'hara, you are welcome! mr. sandford, your mother's son is welcome! mr. ponsonby, you may sit down.' he talked both of threshing and thatching. he said, it was very difficult to determine how to agree with a thresher. 'if you pay him by the day's wages, he will thresh no more than he pleases; though to be sure, the negligence of a thresher is more easily detected than that of most labourers, because he must always make a sound while he works. if you pay him by the piece, by the quantity of grain which he produces, he will thresh only while the grain comes freely, and, though he leaves a good deal in the ear, it is not worth while to thresh the straw over again; nor can you fix him to do it sufficiently, because it is so difficult to prove how much less a man threshes than he ought to do. here then is a dilemma: but, for my part, i would engage him by the day: i would rather trust his idleness than his fraud.' he said, a roof thatched with lincolnshire reeds would last seventy years, as he was informed when in that county; and that he told this in london to a great thatcher, who said, he believed it might be true. such are the pains that dr. johnson takes to get the best information on every subject[ ]. he proceeded:--'it is difficult for a farmer in england to find day-labourers, because the lowest manufacturers can always get more than a day-labourer. it is of no consequence how high the wages of manufacturers are; but it would be of very bad consequence to raise the wages of those who procure the immediate necessaries of life, for that would raise the price of provisions. here then is a problem for politicians. it is not reasonable that the most useful body of men should be the worst paid; yet it does not appear how it can be ordered otherwise. it were to be wished, that a mode for its being otherwise were found out. in the mean time, it is better to give temporary assistance by charitable contributions to poor labourers, at times when provisions are high, than to raise their wages; because, if wages are once raised, they will never get down again[ ].' happily the weather cleared up between one and two o'clock, and we got ready to depart; but our kind host and hostess would not let us go without taking a _snatch_, as they called it; which was in truth a very good dinner. while the punch went round, dr. johnson kept a close whispering conference with mrs. m'kinnon, which, however, was loud enough to let us hear that the subject of it was the particulars of prince charles's escape. the company were entertained and pleased to observe it. upon that subject, there was something congenial between the soul of dr. samuel johnson, and that of an isle of sky farmer's wife. it is curious to see people, how far so ever removed from each other in the general system of their lives, come close together on a particular point which is common to each. we were merry with corrichatachin, on dr. johnson's whispering with his wife. she, perceiving this, humourously cried, 'i am in love with him. what is it to live and not to love?' upon her saying something, which i did not hear, or cannot recollect, he seized her hand eagerly, and kissed it. as we were going, the scottish phrase of '_honest man_!' which is an expression of kindness and regard, was again and again applied by the company to dr. johnson. i was also treated with much civility; and i must take some merit from my assiduous attention to him, and from my contriving that he shall be easy wherever he goes, that he shall not be asked twice to eat or drink any thing (which always disgusts him), that he shall be provided with water at his meals, and many such little things, which, if not attended to, would fret him. i also may be allowed to claim some merit in leading the conversation: i do not mean leading, as in an orchestra, by playing the first fiddle; but leading as one does in examining a witness--starting topics, and making him pursue them. he appears to me like a great mill, into which a subject is thrown to be ground. it requires, indeed, fertile minds to furnish materials for this mill. i regret whenever i see it unemployed; but sometimes i feel myself quite barren, and have nothing to throw in. i know not if this mill be a good figure; though pope makes his mind a mill for turning verses[ ]. we set out about four. young corrichatachin went with us. we had a fine evening, and arrived in good time at _ostig_, the residence of mr. martin m'pherson, minister of slate. it is a pretty good house, built by his father, upon a farm near the church. we were received here with much kindness by mr. and mrs. m'pherson, and his sister, miss m'pherson, who pleased dr. johnson much, by singing erse songs, and playing on the guittar. he afterwards sent her a present of his _rasselas_. in his bed-chamber was a press stored with books, greek, latin, french, and english, most of which had belonged to the father of our host, the learned dr. m'pherson; who, though his _dissertations_ have been mentioned in a former page[ ] as unsatisfactory, was a man of distinguished talents. dr. johnson looked at a latin paraphrase of the song of moses, written by him, and published in the _scots magazine_ for , and said, 'it does him honour; he has a good deal of latin, and good latin.' dr. m'pherson published also in the same magazine, june , an original latin ode, which he wrote from the isle of barra, where he was minister for some years. it is very poetical, and exhibits a striking proof how much all things depend upon comparison: for barra, it seems, appeared to him so much worse than sky, his _natale solum_[ ], that he languished for its 'blessed mountains,' and thought himself buried alive amongst barbarians where he was. my readers will probably not be displeased to have a specimen of this ode:-- 'hei mihi! quantos patior dolores, dum procul specto juga ter beata; dum ferae barrae steriles arenas solus oberro. 'ingemo, indignor, crucior, quod inter barbaros thulen lateam colentes; torpeo languens, morior sepultus, carcere coeco.' after wishing for wings to fly over to his dear country, which was in his view, from what he calls _thule_, as being the most western isle of scotland, except st. kilda; after describing the pleasures of society, and the miseries of solitude, he at last, with becoming propriety, has recourse to the only sure relief of thinking men,--_sursum corda_[ ]--the hope of a better world, disposes his mind to resignation:-- 'interim fiat, tua, rex, voluntas: erigor sursum quoties subit spes certa migrandi solymam supernam, numinis aulam.' he concludes in a noble strain of orthodox piety:-- 'vita tum demum vocitanda vita est. tum licet gratos socios habere, seraphim et sanctos triadem verendam concelebrantes.' wednesday, september [ ]. after a very good sleep, i rose more refreshed than i had been for some nights. we were now at but a little distance from the shore, and saw the sea from our windows, which made our voyage seem nearer. mr. m'pherson's manners and address pleased us much. he appeared to be a man of such intelligence and taste as to be sensible of the extraordinary powers of his illustrious guest. he said to me, 'dr. johnson is an honour to mankind; and, if the expression may be used, is an honour to religion.' col, who had gone yesterday to pay a visit at camuscross, joined us this morning at breakfast. some other gentlemen also came to enjoy the entertainment of dr. johnson's conversation. the day was windy and rainy, so that we had just seized a happy interval for our journey last night. we had good entertainment here, better accommodation than at corrichatachin, and time enough to ourselves. the hours slipped along imperceptibly. we talked of shenstone. dr. johnson said he was a good layer-out of land[ ], but would not allow him to approach excellence as a poet. he said, he believed he had tried to read all his _love pastorals_, but did not get through them. i repeated the stanza, 'she gazed as i slowly withdrew; my path i could hardly discern; so sweetly she bade me adieu, i thought that she bade me return[ ].' he said, 'that seems to be pretty.' i observed that shenstone, from his short maxims in prose, appeared to have some power of thinking; but dr. johnson would not allow him that merit[ ]. he agreed, however, with shenstone, that it was wrong in the brother of one of his correspondents to burn his letters[ ]: 'for, (said he,) shenstone was a man whose correspondence was an honour.' he was this afternoon full of critical severity, and dealt about his censures on all sides. he said, hammond's _love elegies_ were poor things[ ]. he spoke contemptuously of our lively and elegant, though too licentious, lyrick bard, hanbury williams, and said, 'he had no fame, but from boys who drank with him[ ].' while he was in this mood, i was unfortunate enough, simply perhaps, but i could not help thinking, undeservedly, to come within 'the whiff and wind of his fell sword[ ].' i asked him, if he had ever been accustomed to wear a night-cap. he said 'no.' i asked, if it was best not to wear one. johnson. 'sir, i had this custom by chance, and perhaps no man shall ever know whether it is best to sleep with or without a night-cap.' soon afterwards he was laughing at some deficiency in the highlands, and said, 'one might as well go without shoes and stockings.' thinking to have a little hit at his own deficiency, i ventured to add,------' or without a night-cap, sir.' but i had better have been silent; for he retorted directly. 'i do not see the connection there (laughing). nobody before was ever foolish enough to ask whether it was best to wear a night-cap or not. this comes of being a little wrong-headed.' he carried the company along with him: and yet the truth is, that if he had always worn a night-cap, as is the common practice, and found the highlanders did not wear one, he would have wondered at their barbarity; so that my hit was fair enough. thursday, september . there was as great a storm of wind and rain as i have almost ever seen, which necessarily confined us to the house; but we were fully compensated by dr. johnson's conversation. he said, he did not grudge burke's being the first man in the house of commons, for he was the first man every where; but he grudged that a fellow who makes no figure in company, and has a mind as narrow as the neck of a vinegar cruet, should make a figure in the house of commons, merely by having the knowledge of a few forms, and being furnished with a little occasional information[ ]. he told us, the first time he saw dr. young was at the house of mr. richardson, the author of _clarissa_. he was sent for, that the doctor might read to him his _conjectures on original composition_[ ], which he did, and dr. johnson made his remarks; and he was surprized to find young receive as novelties, what he thought very common maxims. he said, he believed young was not a great scholar, nor had studied regularly the art of writing[ ]; that there were very fine things in his _night thoughts_[ ], though you could not find twenty lines together without some extravagance. he repeated two passages from his _love of fame_,--the characters of brunetta[ ] and stella[ ], which he praised highly. he said young pressed him much to come to wellwyn. he always intended it, but never went[ ]. he was sorry when young died. the cause of quarrel between young and his son, he told us, was, that his son insisted young should turn away a clergyman's widow, who lived with him, and who, having acquired great influence over the father, was saucy to the son. dr. johnson said, she could not conceal her resentment at him, for saying to young, that 'an old man should not resign himself to the management of any body.' i asked him, if there was any improper connection between them. 'no, sir, no more than between two statues. he was past fourscore, and she a very coarse woman. she read to him, and i suppose made his coffee, and frothed his chocolate, and did such things as an old man wishes to have done for him.' dr. doddridge being mentioned, he observed that 'he was author of one of the finest epigrams in the english language. it is in orton's life of him.[ ] the subject is his family motto,--_dum vivimus, vivamus_; which, in its primary signification, is, to be sure, not very suitable to a christian divine; but he paraphrased it thus: "live, while you live, the _epicure_ would say, and seize the pleasures of the present day. live, while you live, the sacred _preacher_ cries, and give to god each moment as it flies. lord, in my views let both united be; i live in _pleasure_, when i live to _thee_."' i asked if it was not strange that government should permit so many infidel writings to pass without censure. johnson. 'sir, it is mighty foolish. it is for want of knowing their own power. the present family on the throne came to the crown against the will of nine tenths of the people.[ ] whether those nine tenths were right or wrong, it is not our business now to enquire. but such being the situation of the royal family, they were glad to encourage all who would be their friends. now you know every bad man is a whig; every man who has loose notions. the church was all against this family. they were, as i say, glad to encourage any friends; and therefore, since their accession, there is no instance of any man being kept back on account of his bad principles; and hence this inundation of impiety[ ].' i observed that mr. hume, some of whose writings were very unfavourable to religion, was, however, a tory. johnson. 'sir, hume is a tory by chance[ ] as being a scotchman; but not upon a principle of duty; for he has no principle. if he is any thing, he is a hobbist.' there was something not quite serene in his humour to-night, after supper; for he spoke of hastening away to london, without stopping much at edinburgh. i reminded him that he had general oughton and many others to see. johnson. 'nay, i shall neither go in jest, nor stay in jest. i shall do what is fit.' boswell. 'ay, sir, but all i desire is, that you will let me tell you when it is fit.' johnson. 'sir, i shall not consult you.' boswell. 'if you are to run away from us, as soon as you get loose, we will keep you confined in an island.' he was, however, on the whole, very good company. mr. donald mcleod expressed very well the gradual impression made by dr. johnson on those who are so fortunate as to obtain his acquaintance. 'when you see him first, you are struck with awful reverence;--then you admire him;--and then you love him cordially.' i read this evening some part of voltaire's _history of the war_ in [ ], and of lord kames against hereditary indefeasible right. this is a very slight circumstance, with which i should not trouble my reader, but for the sake of observing that every man should keep minutes of whatever he reads. every circumstance of his studies should be recorded; what books he has consulted; how much of them he has read; at what times; how often the same authors; and what opinions he formed of them, at different periods of his life. such an account would much illustrate the history of his mind.[ ] friday, october . i shewed to dr. johnson verses in a magazine, on his _dictionary_, composed of uncommon words taken from it:-- 'little of _anthropopathy_[ ] has he,' &c. he read a few of them, and said, 'i am not answerable for all the words in my _dictionary_'. i told him that garrick kept a book of all who had either praised or abused him. on the subject of his own reputation, he said,' now that i see it has been so current a topick, i wish i had done so too; but it could not well be done now, as so many things are scattered in newspapers.' he said he was angry at a boy of oxford, who wrote in his defence against kenrick; because it was doing him hurt to answer kenrick. he was told afterwards, the boy was to come to him to ask a favour. he first thought to treat him rudely, on account of his meddling in that business; but then he considered, he had meant to do him all the service in his power, and he took another resolution; he told him he would do what he could for him, and did so; and the boy was satisfied. he said, he did not know how his pamphlet was done, as he had 'read very little of it. the boy made a good figure at oxford, but died.[ ] he remarked, that attacks on authors did them much service. 'a man who tells me my play is very bad, is less my enemy than he who lets it die in silence. a man whose business it is to be talked of, is much helped by being attacked.'[ ] garrick, i observed, had been often so helped. johnson. 'yes, sir; though garrick had more opportunities than almost any man, to keep the publick in mind of him, by exhibiting himself to such numbers, he would not have had so much reputation, had he not been so much attacked. every attack produces a defence; and so attention is engaged. there is no sport in mere praise, when people are all of a mind.' boswell. 'then hume is not the worse for beattie's attack?[ ]' johnson. 'he is, because beattie has confuted him. i do not say, but that there may be some attacks which will hurt an author. though hume suffered from beattie, he was the better for other attacks.' (he certainly could not include in that number those of dr. adams[ ], and mr. tytler[ ].) boswell. 'goldsmith is the better for attacks.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but he does not think so yet. when goldsmith and i published, each of us something, at the same time[ ], we were given to understand that we might review each other. goldsmith was for accepting the offer. i said, no; set reviewers at defiance. it was said to old bentley, upon the attacks against him, "why, they'll write you down." "no, sir," he replied; "depend upon it, no man was ever written down but by himself[ ]." 'he observed to me afterwards, that the advantages authors derived from attacks, were chiefly in subjects of taste, where you cannot confute, as so much may be said on either side.[ ] he told me he did not know who was the authour of the _adventures of a guinea_[ ], but that the bookseller had sent the first volume to him in manuscript, to have his opinion if it should be printed; and he thought it should. the weather being now somewhat better, mr. james mcdonald, factor to sir alexander mcdonald in slate, insisted that all the company at ostig should go to the house at armidale, which sir alexander had left, having gone with his lady to edinburgh, and be his guests, till we had an opportunity of sailing to mull. we accordingly got there to dinner; and passed our day very cheerfully, being no less than fourteen in number. saturday, october . dr. johnson said, that 'a chief and his lady should make their house like a court. they should have a certain number of the gentlemen's daughters to receive their education in the family, to learn pastry and such things from the housekeeper, and manners from my lady. that was the way in the great families in wales; at lady salisbury's,[ ] mrs. thrale's grandmother, and at lady philips's.[ ] i distinguish the families by the ladies, as i speak of what was properly their province. there were always six young ladies at sir john philips's: when one was married, her place was filled up. there was a large school-room, where they learnt needle-work and other things.' i observed, that, at some courts in germany, there were academies for the pages, who are the sons of gentlemen, and receive their education without any expence to their parents. dr. johnson said, that manners were best learned at those courts.' you are admitted with great facility to the prince's company, and yet must treat him with much respect. at a great court, you are at such a distance that you get no good.' i said, 'very true: a man sees the court of versailles, as if he saw it on a theatre.' he said, 'the best book that ever was written upon good breeding, _il corteggiano_, by castiglione[ ], grew up at the little court of urbino, and you should read it.' i am glad always to have his opinion of books. at mr. mcpherson's, he commended whitby's _commentary_[ ], and said, he had heard him called rather lax; but he did not perceive it. he had looked at a novel, called _the man of the world_[ ], at rasay, but thought there was nothing in it. he said to-day, while reading my _journal_, 'this will be a great treasure to us some years hence.' talking of a very penurious gentleman of our acquaintance[ ], he observed, that he exceeded _l'avare_ in the play[ ]. i concurred with him, and remarked that he would do well, if introduced in one of foote's farces; that the best way to get it done, would be to bring foote to be entertained at his house for a week, and then it would be _facit indignatio_[ ]. johnson. 'sir, i wish he had him. i, who have eaten his bread, will not give him to him; but i should be glad he came honestly by him.' he said, he was angry at thrale, for sitting at general oglethorpe's without speaking. he censured a man for degrading himself to a non-entity. i observed, that goldsmith was on the other extreme; for he spoke at all ventures.[ ] johnson. 'yes, sir; goldsmith, rather than not speak, will talk of what he knows himself to be ignorant, which can only end in exposing him.' 'i wonder, (said i,) if he feels that he exposes himself. if he was with two taylors,' 'or with two founders, (said dr. johnson, interrupting me,) he would fall a talking on the method of making cannon, though both of them would soon see that he did not know what metal a cannon is made of.' we were very social and merry in his room this forenoon. in the evening the company danced as usual. we performed, with much activity, a dance which, i suppose, the emigration from sky has occasioned. they call it _america_. each of the couples, after the common _involutions_ and _evolutions_, successively whirls round in a circle, till all are in motion; and the dance seems intended to shew how emigration catches, till a whole neighbourhood is set afloat. mrs. m'kinnon told me, that last year when a ship sailed from portree for america, the people on shore were almost distracted when they saw their relations go off, they lay down on the ground, tumbled, and tore the grass with their teeth. this year there was not a tear shed. the people on shore seemed to think that they would soon follow. this indifference is a mortal sign for the country. we danced to-night to the musick of the bagpipe, which made us beat the ground with prodigious force. i thought it better to endeavour to conciliate the kindness of the people of sky, by joining heartily in their amusements, than to play the abstract scholar. i looked on this tour to the hebrides as a copartnership between dr. johnson and me. each was to do all he could to promote its success; and i have some reason to flatter myself, that my gayer exertions were of service to us. dr. johnson's immense fund of knowledge and wit was a wonderful source of admiration and delight to them; but they had it only at times; and they required to have the intervals agreeably filled up, and even little elucidations of his learned text. i was also fortunate enough frequently to draw him forth to talk, when he would otherwise have been silent. the fountain was at times locked up, till i opened the spring. it was curious to hear the hebridians, when any dispute happened while he was out of the room, saying, 'stay till dr. johnson comes: say that to _him!_ yesterday, dr. johnson said, 'i cannot but laugh, to think of myself roving among the hebrides at sixty[ ]. i wonder where i shall rove at fourscore[ ]!' this evening he disputed the truth of what is said, as to the people of st. kilda catching cold whenever strangers come. 'how can there (said he) be a physical effect without a physical cause[ ]?' he added, laughing, 'the arrival of a ship full of strangers would kill them; for, if one stranger gives them one cold, two strangers must give them two colds; and so in proportion.' i wondered to hear him ridicule this, as he had praised m'aulay for putting it in his book: saying, that it was manly in him to tell a fact, however strange, if he himself believed it[ ]. he said, the evidence was not adequate to the improbability of the thing; that if a physician, rather disposed to be incredulous, should go to st. kilda, and report the fact, then he would begin to look about him. they said, it was annually proved by m'leod's steward, on whose arrival all the inhabitants caught cold. he jocularly remarked, 'the steward always comes to demand something from them; and so they fall a coughing. i suppose the people in sky all take a cold, when--(naming a certain person[ ]) comes.' they said, he came only in summer. johnson. 'that is out of tenderness to you. bad weather and he, at the same time, would be too much.' sunday, october . joseph reported that the wind was still against us. dr. johnson said, 'a wind, or not a wind? that is the question[ ];' for he can amuse himself at times with a little play of words, or rather sentences. i remember when he turned his cup at aberbrothick, where we drank tea, he muttered _claudite jam rivos, pueri'_[ ]. i must again and again apologize to fastidious readers, for recording such minute particulars. they prove the scrupulous fidelity of my _journal_. dr. johnson said it was a very exact picture of a portion of his life. while we were chatting in the indolent stile of men who were to stay here all this day at least, we were suddenly roused at being told that the wind was fair, that a little fleet of herring-busses was passing by for mull, and that mr. simpson's vessel was about to sail. hugh m'donald, the skipper, came to us, and was impatient that we should get ready, which we soon did. dr. johnson, with composure and solemnity, repeated the observation of epictetus, that, 'as man has the voyage of death before him,--whatever may be his employment, he should be ready at the master's call; and an old man should never be far from the shore, lest he should not be able to get himself ready.' he rode, and i and the other gentlemen walked, about an english mile to the shore, where the vessel lay. dr. johnson said, he should never forget sky, and returned thanks for all civilities. we were carried to the vessel in a small boat which she had, and we set sail very briskly about one o'clock. i was much pleased with the motion for many hours. dr. johnson grew sick, and retired under cover, as it rained a good deal. i kept above, that i might have fresh air, and finding myself not affected by the motion of the vessel, i exulted in being a stout seaman, while dr. johnson was quite in a state of annihilation. but i was soon humbled; for after imagining that i could go with ease to america or the east-indies, i became very sick, but kept above board, though it rained hard. as we had been detained so long in sky by bad weather, we gave up the scheme that col had planned for us of visiting several islands, and contented ourselves with the prospect of seeing mull, and icolmkill and inchkenneth, which lie near to it. mr. simpson was sanguine in his hopes for awhile, the wind being fair for us. he said, he would land us at icolmkill that night. but when the wind failed, it was resolved we should make for the sound of mull, and land in the harbour of tobermorie. we kept near the five herring vessels for some time; but afterwards four of them got before us, and one little wherry fell behind us. when we got in full view of the point of ardnamurchan, the wind changed, and was directly against our getting into the sound. we were then obliged to tack, and get forward in that tedious manner. as we advanced, the storm grew greater, and the sea very rough. col then began to talk of making for egg, or canna, or his own island. our skipper said, he would get us into the sound. having struggled for this a good while in vain, he said, he would push forward till we were near the land of mull, where we might cast anchor, and lie till the morning; for although, before this, there had been a good moon, and i had pretty distinctly seen not only the land of mull, but up the sound, and the country of morven as at one end of it, the night was now grown very dark. our crew consisted of one m'donald, our skipper, and two sailors, one of whom had but one eye: mr. simpson himself, col, and hugh m'donald his servant, all helped. simpson said, he would willingly go for col, if young col or his servant would undertake to pilot us to a harbour; but, as the island is low land, it was dangerous to run upon it in the dark. col and his servant appeared a little dubious. the scheme of running for canna seemed then to be embraced; but canna was ten leagues off, all out of our way; and they were afraid to attempt the harbour of egg. all these different plans were successively in agitation. the old skipper still tried to make for the land of mull; but then it was considered that there was no place there where we could anchor in safety. much time was lost in striving against the storm. at last it became so rough, and threatened to be so much worse, that col and his servant took more courage, and said they would undertake to hit one of the harbours in col. 'then let us run for it in god's name,' said the skipper; and instantly we turned towards it. the little wherry which had fallen behind us had hard work. the master begged that, if we made for col, we should put out a light to him. accordingly one of the sailors waved a glowing peat for some time. the various difficulties that were started, gave me a good deal of apprehension, from which i was relieved, when i found we were to run for a harbour before the wind. but my relief was but of short duration: for i soon heard that our sails were very bad, and were in danger of being torn in pieces, in which case we should be driven upon the rocky shore of col. it was very dark, and there was a heavy and incessant rain. the sparks of the burning peat flew so much about, that i dreaded the vessel might take fire. then, as col was a sportsman, and had powder on board, i figured that we might be blown up. simpson and he appeared a little frightened, which made me more so; and the perpetual talking, or rather shouting, which was carried on in erse, alarmed me still more. a man is always suspicious of what is saying in an unknown tongue; and, if fear be his passion at the time, he grows more afraid. our vessel often lay so much on one side, that i trembled lest she should be overset, and indeed they told me afterwards, that they had run her sometimes to within an inch of the water, so anxious were they to make what haste they could before the night should be worse. i now saw what i never saw before, a prodigious sea, with immense billows coming upon a vessel, so as that it seemed hardly possible to escape. there was something grandly horrible in the sight. i am glad i have seen it once. amidst all these terrifying circumstances, i endeavoured to compose my mind. it was not easy to do it; for all the stories that i had heard of the dangerous sailing among the hebrides, which is proverbial[ ], came full upon my recollection. when i thought of those who were dearest to me, and would suffer severely, should i be lost, i upbraided myself, as not having a sufficient cause for putting myself in such danger. piety afforded me comfort; yet i was disturbed by the objections that have been made against a particular providence, and by the arguments of those who maintain that it is in vain to hope that the petitions of an individual, or even of congregations, can have any influence with the deity; objections which have been often made, and which dr. hawkesworth has lately revived, in his preface to the _voyages to the south seas_[ ]; but dr. ogden's excellent doctrine on the efficacy of intercession prevailed. it was half an hour after eleven before we set ourselves in the course for col. as i saw them all busy doing something, i asked col, with much earnestness, what i could do. he, with a happy readiness, put into my hand a rope, which was fixed to the top of one of the masts, and told me to hold it till he bade me pull. if i had considered the matter, i might have seen that this could not be of the least service; but his object was to keep me out of the way of those who were busy working the vessel, and at the same time to divert my fear, by employing me, and making me think that i was of use. thus did i stand firm to my post, while the wind and rain beat upon me, always expecting a call to pull my rope. the man with one eye steered; old m'donald, and col and his servant, lay upon the fore-castle, looking sharp out for the harbour. it was necessary to carry much _cloth_, as they termed it, that is to say, much sail, in order to keep the vessel off the shore of col. this made violent plunging in a rough sea. at last they spied the harbour of lochiern, and col cried, 'thank god, we are safe!' we ran up till we were opposite to it, and soon afterwards we got into it, and cast anchor. dr. johnson had all this time been quiet and unconcerned. he had lain down on one of the beds, and having got free from sickness, was satisfied. the truth is, he knew nothing of the danger we were in[ ] but, fearless and unconcerned, might have said, in the words which he has chosen for the motto to his _rambler_, 'quo me cunque rapit tempestas, deferor hospes.[ ]' once, during the doubtful consultations, he asked whither we were going; and upon being told that it was not certain whether to mull or col, he cried, 'col for my money!' i now went down, with col and mr. simpson, to visit him. he was lying in philosophick tranquillity with a greyhound of col's at his back, keeping him warm. col is quite the _juvenis qui gaudet canibus_[ ]. he had, when we left talisker, two greyhounds, two terriers, a pointer, and a large newfoundland water-dog. he lost one of his terriers by the road, but had still five dogs with him. i was very ill, and very desirous to get to shore. when i was told that we could not land that night, as the storm had now increased, i looked so miserably, as col afterwards informed me, that what shakspeare has made the frenchman say of the english soldiers, when scantily dieted, _'piteous they will look, like drowned mice!'_[ ] might, i believe, have been well applied to me. there was in the harbour, before us, a campbelltown vessel, the betty, kenneth morrison master, taking in kelp, and bound for ireland. we sent our boat to beg beds for two gentlemen, and that the master would send his boat, which was larger than ours. he accordingly did so, and col and i were accommodated in his vessel till the morning. monday, october . about eight o'clock we went in the boat to mr. simpson's vessel, and took in dr. johnson. he was quite well, though he had tasted nothing but a dish of tea since saturday night. on our expressing some surprise at this, he said, that, 'when he lodged in the temple, and had no regular system of life, he had fasted for two days at a time, during which he had gone about visiting, though not at the hours of dinner or supper; that he had drunk tea, but eaten no bread; that this was no intentional fasting, but happened just in the course of a literary life.'[ ] there was a little miserable publick-house close upon the shore, to which we should have gone, had we landed last night: but this morning col resolved to take us directly to the house of captain lauchlan m'lean, a descendant of his family, who had acquired a fortune in the east-indies, and taken a farm in col[ ]. we had about an english mile to go to it. col and joseph, and some others, ran to some little horses, called here _shelties_, that were running wild on a heath, and catched one of them. we had a saddle with us, which was clapped upon it, and a straw halter was put on its head. dr. johnson was then mounted, and joseph very slowly and gravely led the horse. i said to dr. johnson, 'i wish, sir, _the club_ saw you in this attitude.[ ]' it was a very heavy rain, and i was wet to the skin. captain m'lean had but a poor temporary house, or rather hut; however, it was a very good haven to us. there was a blazing peat-fire, and mrs. m'lean, daughter of the minister of the parish, got us tea. i felt still the motion of the sea. dr. johnson said, it was not in imagination, but a continuation of motion on the fluids, like that of the sea itself after the storm is over. there were some books on the board which served as a chimney-piece. dr. johnson took up burnet's _history of his own times_[ ]. he said, 'the first part of it is one of the most entertaining books in the english language; it is quite dramatick: while he went about every where, saw every where, and heard every where. by the first part, i mean so far as it appears that burnet himself was actually engaged in what he has told; and this may be easily distinguished.' captain m'lean censured burnet, for his high praise of lauderdale in a dedication[ ], when he shews him in his history to have been so bad a man. johnson. 'i do not myself think that a man should say in a dedication what he could not say in a history. however, allowance should be made; for there is a great difference. the known style of a dedication is flattery: it professes to flatter. there is the same difference between what a man says in a dedication, and what he says in a history, as between a lawyer's pleading a cause, and reporting it.' the day passed away pleasantly enough. the wind became fair for mull in the evening, and mr. simpson resolved to sail next morning: but having been thrown into the island of col we were unwilling to leave it unexamined, especially as we considered that the campbelltown vessel would sail for mull in a day or two, and therefore we determined to stay. tuesday, october . i rose, and wrote my _journal_ till about nine; and then went to dr. johnson, who sat up in bed and talked and laughed. i said, it was curious to look back ten years, to the time when we first thought of visiting the hebrides[ ]. how distant and improbable the scheme then appeared! yet here we were actually among them. 'sir, (said he,) people may come to do any thing almost, by talking of it. i really believe, i could talk myself into building a house upon island isa[ ], though i should probably never come back again to see it. i could easily persuade reynolds to do it; and there would be no great sin in persuading him to do it. sir, he would reason thus: "what will it cost me to be there once in two or three summers? why, perhaps, five hundred pounds; and what is that, in comparison of having a fine retreat, to which a man can go, or to which he can send a friend?" he would never find out that he may have this within twenty miles of london. then i would tell him, that he may marry one of the miss m'leods, a lady of great family. sir, it is surprising how people will go to a distance for what they may have at home. i knew a lady who came up from lincolnshire to knightsbridge with one of her daughters, and gave five guineas a week for a lodging and a warm bath; that is, mere warm water. _that_, you know, could not be had in _lincolnshire_! she said, it was made either too hot or too cold there.' after breakfast, dr. johnson and i, and joseph, mounted horses, and col and the captain walked with us about a short mile across the island. we paid a visit to the reverend mr. hector m'lean. his parish consists of the islands of col and tyr-yi. he was about seventy-seven years of age, a decent ecclesiastick, dressed in a full suit of black clothes, and a black wig. he appeared like a dutch pastor, or one of the assembly of divines at westminster. dr. johnson observed to me afterwards, 'that he was a fine old man, and was as well-dressed, and had as much dignity in his appearance as the dean of a cathedral.' we were told, that he had a valuable library, though but poor accommodation for it, being obliged to keep his books in large chests. it was curious to see him and dr. johnson together. neither of them heard very distinctly; so each of them talked in his own way, and at the same time. mr. m'lean said, he had a confutation of bayle, by leibnitz. johnson. 'a confutation of bayle, sir! what part of bayle do you mean? the greatest part of his writings is not confutable: it is historical and critical.' mr. m'lean said, 'the irreligious part;' and proceeded to talk of leibnitz's controversy with clarke, calling leibnitz a great man. johnson. 'why, sir, leibnitz persisted in affirming that newton called space _sensorium numinis_, notwithstanding he was corrected, and desired to observe that newton's words were quasi _sensorium numinis_[ ]. no, sir; leibnitz was as paltry a fellow as i know. out of respect to queen caroline, who patronised him, clarke treated him too well.[ ]' during the time that dr. johnson was thus going on, the old minister was standing with his back to the fire, cresting up erect, pulling down the front of his periwig, and talking what a great man leibnitz was. to give an idea of the scene, would require a page with two columns; but it ought rather to be represented by two good players. the old gentleman said, clarke was very wicked, for going so much into the arian system[ ]. 'i will not say he was wicked, said dr. johnson; he might be mistaken.' m'lean. 'he was wicked, to shut his eyes against the scriptures; and worthy men in england have since confuted him to all intents and purposes.' johnson. 'i know not _who_ has confuted him to _all intents and purposes_.' here again there was a double talking, each continuing to maintain his own argument, without hearing exactly what the other said. i regretted that dr. johnson did not practice the art of accommodating himself to different sorts of people. had he been softer with this venerable old man, we might have had more conversation; but his forcible spirit, and impetuosity of manner, may be said to spare neither sex nor age. i have seen even mrs. thrale stunned; but i have often maintained, that it is better he should retain his own manner[ ]. pliability of address i conceive to be inconsistent with that majestick power of mind which he possesses, and which produces such noble effects. a lofty oak will not bend like a supple willow. he told me afterwards, he liked firmness in an old man, and was pleased to see mr. m'lean so orthodox. 'at his age, it is too late for a man to be asking himself questions as to his belief[ ].' we rode to the northern part of the island, where we saw the ruins of a church or chapel[ ]. we then proceeded to a place called grissipol, or the rough pool. at grissipol we found a good farm house, belonging to the laird of col, and possessed by mr. m'sweyn. on the beach here there is a singular variety of curious stones. i picked up one very like a small cucumber. by the by, dr. johnson told me, that gay's line in _the beggars opera_, 'as men should serve a cucumber[ ],' &c. has no waggish meaning, with reference to men flinging away cucumbers as too _cooling_, which some have thought; for it has been a common saying of physicians in england, that a cucumber should be well sliced, and dressed with pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out, as good for nothing. mr. m'sweyn's predecessors had been in sky from a very remote period, upon the estate belonging to m'leod; probably before m'leod had it the name is certainly norwegian, from _sueno_, king of norway. the present mr. m'sweyn left sky upon the late m'leod's raising his rents. he then got this farm from col. he appeared to be near fourscore; but looked as fresh, and was as strong as a man of fifty. his son hugh looked older; and, as dr. johnson observed, had more the manners of an old man than he. i had often heard of such instances, but never saw one before. mrs. m'sweyn was a decent old gentlewoman. she was dressed in tartan, and could speak nothing but erse. she said, she taught sir james m'donald erse, and would teach me soon. i could now sing a verse of the song _hatyin foam'eri_[ ], made in honour of allan, the famous captain of clanranald, who fell at sherrif-muir[ ]; whose servant, who lay on the field watching his master's dead body, being asked next day who that was, answered, 'he was a man yesterday.' we were entertained here with a primitive heartiness. whiskey was served round in a shell, according to the ancient highland custom. dr. johnson would not partake of it; but, being desirous to do honour to the modes 'of other times,' drank some water out of the shell. in the forenoon dr. johnson said, 'it would require great resignation to live in one of these islands.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir; i have felt myself at times in a state of almost mere physical existence, satisfied to eat, drink, and sleep, and walk about, and enjoy my own thoughts; and i can figure a continuation of this.' johnson. 'ay, sir; but if you were shut up here, your own thoughts would torment you. you would think of edinburgh or london, and that you could not be there.' we set out after dinner for _breacacha_, the family seat of the laird of col, accompanied by the young laird, who had now got a horse, and by the younger mr. m'sweyn, whose wife had gone thither before us, to prepare every thing for our reception, the laird and his family being absent at aberdeen. it is called _breacacha_, or the spotted field, because in summer it is enamelled with clover and daisies, as young col told me. we passed by a place where there is a very large stone, i may call it a _rock_;--'a vast weight for ajax[ ].' the tradition is, that a giant threw such another stone at his mistress, up to the top of a hill, at a small distance; and that she in return, threw this mass down to him[ ]. it was all in sport. 'malo me petit lasciva puella[ ].' as we advanced, we came to a large extent of plain ground. i had not seen such a place for a long time. col and i took a gallop upon it by way of race. it was very refreshing to me, after having been so long taking short steps in hilly countries. it was like stretching a man's legs after being cramped in a short bed. we also passed close by a large extent of sand-hills, near two miles square. dr. johnson said, 'he never had the image before. it was horrible, if barrenness and danger could be so.' i heard him, after we were in the house of _breacacha_, repeating to himself, as he walked about the room, 'and smother'd in the dusty whirlwind, dies[ ].' probably he had been thinking of the whole of the simile in _cato_, of which that is the concluding line; the sandy desart had struck him so strongly. the sand has of late been blown over a good deal of meadow, and the people of the island say, that their fathers remembered much of the space which is now covered with sand, to have been under tillage[ ]. col's house is situated on a bay called _breacacha_ bay. we found here a neat new-built gentleman's house, better than any we had been in since we were at lord errol's. dr. johnson relished it much at first, but soon remarked to me, that 'there was nothing becoming a chief about it: it was a mere tradesman's box[ ].' he seemed quite at home, and no longer found any difficulty in using the highland address; for as soon as we arrived, he said, with a spirited familiarity, 'now, _col_, if you could get us a dish of tea.' dr. johnson and i had each an excellent bed-chamber. we had a dispute which of us had the best curtains. his were rather the best, being of linen; but i insisted that my bed had the best posts, which was undeniable. 'well, (said he,) if you _have_ the best _posts_, we will have you tied to them and whipped.' i mention this slight circumstance, only to shew how ready he is, even in mere trifles, to get the better of his antagonist, by placing him in a ludicrous view. i have known him sometimes use the same art, when hard pressed in serious disputation. goldsmith, i remember, to retaliate for many a severe defeat which he has suffered from him, applied to him a lively saying in one of cibber's comedies, which puts this part of his character in a strong light.--'there is no arguing with johnson; for, _if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it_[ ].' wednesday, october . after a sufficiency of sleep, we assembled at breakfast. we were just as if in barracks. every body was master. we went and viewed the old castle of col, which is not far from the present house, near the shore, and founded on a rock. it has never been a large feudal residence, and has nothing about it that requires a particular description. like other old inconvenient buildings of the same age, it exemplified gray's picturesque lines, 'huge[ ] windows that exclude the light, and passages that lead to nothing.' it may however be worth mentioning, that on the second story we saw a vault, which was, and still is, the family prison. there was a woman put into it by the laird, for theft, within these ten years; and any offender would be confined there yet; for, from the necessity of the thing, as the island is remote from any power established by law, the laird must exercise his jurisdiction to a certain degree. we were shewn, in a corner of this vault, a hole, into which col said greater criminals used to be put. it was now filled up with rubbish of different kinds. he said, it was of a great depth, 'ay, (said dr. johnson, smiling,) all such places, that _are filled up_, were of a great depth.' he is very quick in shewing that he does not give credit to careless or exaggerated accounts of things. after seeing the castle, we looked at a small hut near it. it is called _teigh franchich, i.e._ the frenchman's house. col could not tell us the history of it. a poor man with a wife and children now lived in it. we went into it, and dr. johnson gave them some charity. there was but one bed for all the family, and the hut was very smoky. when he came out, he said to me, _'et hoc secundum sententiam philosophorum est esse beatus_[ ].' boswell. 'the philosophers, when they placed happiness in a cottage, supposed cleanliness and no smoke.' johnson. 'sir, they did not think about either.' we walked a little in the laird's garden, in which endeavours have been used to rear some trees; but, as soon as they got above the surrounding wall, they died. dr. johnson recommended sowing the seeds of hardy trees, instead of planting. col and i rode out this morning, and viewed a part of the island. in the course of our ride, we saw a turnip-field, which he had hoed with his own hands. he first introduced this kind of husbandry into the western islands[ ]. we also looked at an appearance of lead, which seemed very promising. it has been long known; for i found letters to the late laird, from sir john areskine and sir alexander murray, respecting it. after dinner came mr. m'lean, of corneck, brother to isle of muck, who is a cadet of the family of col. he possesses the two ends of col, which belong to the duke of argyll. corneck had lately taken a lease of them at a very advanced rent, rather than let the campbells get a footing in the island, one of whom had offered nearly as much as he. dr. johnson well observed, that, 'landlords err much when they calculate merely what their land _may_ yield. the rent must be in a proportionate ratio of what the land may yield, and of the power of the tenant to make it yield. a tenant cannot make by his land, but according to the corn and cattle which he has. suppose you should give him twice as much land as he has, it does him no good, unless he gets also more stock. it is clear then, that the highland landlords, who let their substantial tenants leave them, are infatuated; for the poor small tenants cannot give them good rents, from the very nature of things. they have not the means of raising more from their farms[ ].' corneck, dr. johnson said, was the most distinct man that he had met with in these isles: he did not shut his eyes, or put his fingers in his ears, which he seemed to think was a good deal the mode with most of the people whom we have seen of late. thursday, october . captain m'lean joined us this morning at breakfast. there came on a dreadful storm of wind and rain, which continued all day, and rather increased at night. the wind was directly against our getting to mull. we were in a strange state of abstraction from the world: we could neither hear from our friends, nor write to them. col had brought daille _on the fathers_[ ], lucas _on happiness_[ ], and more's _dialogues_[ ], from the reverend mr. m'lean's, and burnet's _history of his own times_, from captain m'lean's; and he had of his own some books of farming, and gregory's _geometry_[ ]. dr. johnson read a good deal of burnet, and of gregory, and i observed he made some geometrical notes in the end of his pocket-book. i read a little of young's _six weeks' tour through the southern counties_; and ovid's _epistles_, which i had bought at inverness, and which helped to solace many a weary hour. we were to have gone with dr. johnson this morning to see the mine; but were prevented by the storm. while it was raging, he said, 'we may be glad we are not _damnati ad metalla_.' friday, october . dr. johnson appeared to-day very weary of our present confined situation. he said, 'i want to be on the main land, and go on with existence. this is a waste of life.' i shall here insert, without regard to chronology, some of his conversation at different times. 'there was a man some time ago, who was well received for two years, among the gentlemen of northamptonshire, by calling himself my brother. at last he grew so impudent as by his influence to get tenants turned out of their farms. allen the printer[ ], who is of that county, came to me, asking, with much appearance of doubtfulness, if i had a brother; and upon being assured i had none alive, he told me of the imposition, and immediately wrote to the country, and the fellow was dismissed. it pleased me to hear that so much was got by using my name. it is not every name that can carry double; do both for a man's self and his brother (laughing). i should be glad to see the fellow. however, i could have done nothing against him. a man can have no redress for his name being used, or ridiculous stories being told of him in the newspapers, except he can shew that he has suffered damage. some years ago a foolish piece was published, said to be written _by s. johnson_. some of my friends wanted me to be very angry about this. i said, it would be in vain; for the answer would be, "_s. johnson_ may be simon johnson, or simeon johnson, or solomon johnson;" and even if the full name, samuel johnson, had been used, it might be said; "it is not you; it is a much cleverer fellow." 'beauclerk and i, and langton, and lady sydney beauclerk, mother to our friend, were one day driving in a coach by cuper's gardens[ ], which were then unoccupied. i, in sport, proposed that beauclerk and langton, and myself should take them; and we amused ourselves with scheming how we should all do our parts. lady sydney grew angry, and said, "an old man should not put such things in young people's heads." she had no notion of a joke, sir; had come late into life, and had a mighty unpliable understanding. '_carte's life of the duke of ormond_ is considered as a book of authority; but it is ill-written. the matter is diffused in too many words; there is no animation, no compression, no vigour. two good volumes in duodecimo might be made out of the two in folio[ ]. talking of our confinement here, i observed, that our discontent and impatience could not be considered as very unreasonable; for that we were just in the state of which seneca complains so grievously, while in exile in corsica[ ]. 'yes, (said dr. johnson,) and he was not farther from home than we are.' the truth is, he was much nearer. there was a good deal of rain to-day, and the wind was still contrary. corneck attended me, while i amused myself in examining a collection of papers belonging to the family of col. the first laird was a younger son of the chieftain m'lean, and got the middle part of col for his patrimony. dr. johnson having given a very particular account[ ] of the connection between this family and a branch of the family of camerons, called m'lonich, i shall only insert the following document, (which i found in col's cabinet,) as a proof of its continuance, even to a late period:-- to the laird of col. 'dear sir, 'the long-standing tract of firm affectionate friendship 'twixt your worthy predecessors and ours affords us such assurance, as that we may have full relyance on your favour and undoubted friendship, in recommending the bearer, ewen cameron, our cousin, son to the deceast dugall m'connill of innermaillie, sometime in glenpean, to your favour and conduct, who is a man of undoubted honesty and discretion, only that he has the misfortune of being alledged to have been accessory to the killing of one of m'martin's family about fourteen years ago, upon which alledgeance the m'martins are now so sanguine on revenging, that they are fully resolved for the deprivation of his life; to the preventing of which you are relyed on by us, as the only fit instrument, and a most capable person. therefore your favour and protection is expected and intreated, during his good behaviour; and failing of which behaviour, you'll please to use him as a most insignificant person deserves. 'sir, he had, upon the alledgeance foresaid, been transported, at lochiel's desire, to france, to gratify the m'martins, and upon his return home, about five years ago, married: but now he is so much threatened by the m'martins, that he is not secure enough to stay where he is, being ardmurchan, which occasions this trouble to you. wishing prosperity and happiness to attend still yourself, worthy lady, and good family, we are, in the most affectionate manner, 'dear sir, 'your most obliged, affectionate, 'and most humble servants, 'dugall cameron, _of strone_. dugall cameron, _of barr_. dugall cameron, _of inveriskvouilline_. dugall cameron, _of invinvalie_.' 'strone, th march, .' ewen cameron was protected, and his son has now a farm from the laird of col, in mull. the family of col was very loyal in the time of the great montrose[ ], from whom i found two letters in his own handwriting. the first is as follows:-- for my very loving friend the laird of coall. 'sir, 'i must heartily thank you for all your willingness and good affection to his majesty's service, and particularly the sending alongs of your son, to who i will heave ane particular respect, hopeing also that you will still continue ane goode instrument for the advanceing ther of the king's service, for which, and all your former loyal carriages, be confident you shall find the effects of his ma's favour, as they can be witnessed you by 'your very faithful friende, 'montrose.' 'strethearne, jan. .' the other is:-- 'for the laird of col. 'sir, 'having occasion to write to your fields, i cannot be forgetful of your willingness and good affection to his majesty's service. i acknowledge to you, and thank you heartily for it, assuring, that in what lies in my power, you shall find the good. meanwhile, i shall expect that you will continue your loyal endeavours, in wishing those slack people that are about you, to appear more obedient than they do, and loyal in their prince's service; whereby i assure you, you shall find me ever 'your faithful friend, 'montrose[ ].' 'petty, april, .' i found some uncouth lines on the death of the present laird's father, intituled 'nature's elegy upon the death of donald maclean of col.' they are not worth insertion. i shall only give what is called his epitaph, which dr. johnson said, 'was not so very bad.' 'nature's minion, virtue's wonder, art's corrective here lyes under.' i asked, what 'art's corrective' meant. 'why, sir, (said he,) that the laird was so exquisite, that he set art right, when she was wrong.' i found several letters to the late col, from my father's old companion at paris, sir hector m'lean, one of which was written at the time of settling the colony in georgia[ ]. it dissuades col from letting people go there, and assures him there will soon be an opportunity of employing them better at home. hence it appears that emigration from the highlands, though not in such numbers at a time as of late, has always been practised. dr. johnson observed that 'the lairds, instead of improving their country, diminished their people.' there are several districts of sandy desart in col. there are forty-eight lochs of fresh water; but many of them are very small,--meer pools. about one half of them, however, have trout and eel. there is a great number of horses in the island, mostly of a small size. being over-stocked, they sell some in tir-yi, and on the main land. their black cattle, which are chiefly rough-haired, are reckoned remarkably good. the climate being very mild in winter, they never put their beasts in any house. the lakes are never frozen so as to bear a man; and snow never lies above a few hours. they have a good many sheep, which they eat mostly themselves, and sell but a few. they have goats in several places. there are no foxes; no serpents, toads, or frogs, nor any venomous creature. they have otters and mice here; but had no rats till lately that an american vessel brought them. there is a rabbit-warren on the north-east of the island, belonging to the duke of argyle. young col intends to get some hares, of which there are none at present. there are no black-cock, muir-fowl[ ], nor partridges; but there are snipe, wild-duck, wild-geese, and swans, in winter; wild-pidgeons, plover, and great number of starlings; of which i shot some, and found them pretty good eating. woodcocks come hither, though there is not a tree upon the island. there are no rivers in col; but only some brooks, in which there is a great variety of fish. in the whole isle there are but three hills, and none of them considerable for a highland country. the people are very industrious. every man can tan. they get oak, and birch-bark, and lime, from the main land. some have pits; but they commonly use tubs. i saw brogues[ ] very well tanned; and every man can make them. they all make candles of the tallow of their beasts, both moulded and dipped; and they all make oil of the livers of fish. the little fish called cuddies produce a great deal. they sell some oil out of the island, and they use it much for light in their houses, in little iron lamps, most of which they have from england; but of late their own blacksmith makes them. he is a good workman; but he has no employment in shoeing horses, for they all go unshod here, except some of a better kind belonging to young col, which were now in mull. there are two carpenters in col; but most of the inhabitants can do something as boat-carpenters. they can all dye. heath is used for yellow; and for red, a moss which grows on stones. they make broad-cloth, and tartan, and linen, of their own wool and flax, sufficient for their own use; as also stockings. their bonnets come from the mainland. hard-ware and several small articles are brought annually from greenock, and sold in the only shop in the island, which is kept near the house, or rather hut, used for publick worship, there being no church in the island. the inhabitants of col have increased considerably within these thirty years, as appears from the parish registers. there are but three considerable tacksmen on col's part of the island[ ]: the rest is let to small tenants, some of whom pay so low a rent as four, three, or even two guineas. the highest is seven pounds, paid by a farmer, whose son goes yearly on foot to aberdeen for education, and in summer returns, and acts as a schoolmaster in col. dr. johnson said, 'there is something noble in a young man's walking two hundred miles and back again, every year, for the sake of learning[ ].' this day a number of people came to col, with complaints of each others' trespasses. corneck, to prevent their being troublesome, told them, that the lawyer from edinburgh was here, and if they did not agree, he would take them to task. they were alarmed at this; said, they had never been used to go to law, and hoped col would settle matters himself. in the evening corneck left us. as, in our present confinement, any thing that had even the name of curious was an object of attention, i proposed that col should shew me the great stone, mentioned in a former page[ ], as having been thrown by a giant to the top of a mountain. dr. johnson, who did not like to be left alone, said he would accompany us as far as riding was practicable. we ascended a part of the hill on horseback, and col and i scrambled up the rest. a servant held our horses, and dr. johnson placed himself on the ground, with his back against a large fragment of rock. the wind being high, he let down the cocks of his hat, and tied it with his handkerchief under his chin. while we were employed in examining the stone, which did not repay our trouble in getting to it, he amused himself with reading _gataker on lots and on the christian watch[ ],_ a very learned book, of the last age, which had been found in the garret of col's house, and which he said was a treasure here. when we descried him from above, he had a most eremitical appearance; and on our return told us, he had been so much engaged by gataker, that he had never missed us. his avidity for variety of books, while we were in col, was frequently expressed; and he often complained that so few were within his reach. upon which i observed to him, that it was strange he should complain of want of books, when he could at any time make such good ones. we next proceeded to the lead mine. in our way we came to a strand of some extent, where we were glad to take a gallop, in which my learned friend joined with great alacrity. dr. johnson, mounted on a large bay mare without shoes, and followed by a foal, which had some difficulty in keeping up with him, was a singular spectacle. after examining the mine, we returned through a very uncouth district, full of sand hills; down which, though apparent precipices, our horses carried us with safety, the sand always gently sliding away from their feet. vestiges of houses were pointed out to us, which col, and two others who had joined us, asserted had been overwhelmed with sand blown over them. but, on going close to one of them, dr. johnson shewed the absurdity of the notion, by remarking, that 'it was evidently only a house abandoned, the stones of which had been taken away for other purposes; for the large stones, which form the lower part of the walls, were still standing higher than the sand. if _they_ were not blown over, it was clear nothing higher than they could be blown over.' this was quite convincing to me; but it made not the least impression on col and the others, who were not to be argued out of a highland tradition. we did not sit down to dinner till between six and seven. we lived plentifully here, and had a true welcome. in such a season good firing was of no small importance. the peats were excellent, and burned cheerfully. those at dunvegan, which were damp, dr. johnson called 'a sullen fuel.' here a scottish phrase was singularly applied to him. one of the company having remarked that he had gone out on a stormy evening, and brought in a supply of peats from the stack, old mr. m'sweyn said, 'that was _main honest_[ ]!' blenheim being occasionally mentioned, he told me he had never seen it[ ]: he had not gone formerly; and he would not go now, just as a common spectator, for his money: he would not put it in the power of some man about the duke of marlborough to say, 'johnson was here; i knew him, but i took no notice of him[ ].' he said, he should be very glad to see it, if properly invited, which in all probability would never be the case, as it was not worth his while to seek for it. i observed, that he might be easily introduced there by a common friend of ours, nearly related to the duke[ ]. he answered, with an uncommon attention to delicacy of feeling, 'i doubt whether our friend be on such a footing with the duke as to carry any body there; and i would not give him the uneasiness of seeing that i knew he was not, or even of being himself reminded of it.' sunday, october . there was this day the most terrible storm of wind and rain that i ever remember[ ]. it made such an awful impression on us all, as to produce, for some time, a kind of dismal quietness in the house. the day was passed without much conversation: only, upon my observing that there must be something bad in a man's mind, who does not like to give leases to his tenants, but wishes to keep them in a perpetual wretched dependance on his will, dr. johnson said, 'you are right: it is a man's duty to extend comfort and security among as many people as he can. he should not wish to have his tenants mere _ephemerae_,--mere beings of an hour[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, if they have leases is there not some danger that they may grow insolent? i remember you yourself once told me, an english tenant was so independent, that, if provoked, he would _throw_ his rent at his landlord.' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, it is the landlord's own fault, if it is thrown at him. a man may always keep his tenants in dependence enough, though they have leases. he must be a good tenant indeed, who will not fall behind in his rent, if his landlord will let him; and if he does fall behind, his landlord has him at his mercy. indeed, the poor man is always much at the mercy of the rich; no matter whether landlord or tenant. if the tenant lets his landlord have a little rent beforehand, or has lent him money, then the landlord is in his power. there cannot be a greater man than a tenant who has lent money to his landlord; for he has under subjection the very man to whom he should be subjected.' monday, october ii. we had some days ago engaged the campbelltown vessel to carry us to mull, from the harbour where she lay. the morning was fine, and the wind fair and moderate; so we hoped at length to get away. mrs. m'sweyn, who officiated as our landlady here, had never been on the main land. on hearing this, dr. johnson said to me, before her, 'that is rather being behind-hand with life. i would at least go and see glenelg.' boswell. 'you yourself, sir, have never seen, till now, any thing but your native island.' johnson. 'but, sir, by seeing london, i have seen as much of life as the world can shew[ ].' boswell. 'you have not seen pekin.' johnson. 'what is pekin? ten thousand londoners would _drive_ all the people of pekin: they would drive them like deer.' we set out about eleven for the harbour; but, before we reached it, so violent a storm came on, that we were obliged again to take shelter in the house of captain m'lean, where we dined, and passed the night. tuesday, october . after breakfast, we made a second attempt to get to the harbour; but another storm soon convinced us that it would be in vain. captain m'lean's house being in some confusion, on account of mrs. m'lean being expected to lie-in, we resolved to go to mr. m'sweyn's, where we arrived very wet, fatigued, and hungry. in this situation, we were somewhat disconcerted by being told that we should have no dinner till late in the evening, but should have tea in the mean time. dr. johnson opposed this arrangement; but they persisted, and he took the tea very readily. he said to me afterwards, 'you must consider, sir, a dinner here is a matter of great consequence. it is a thing to be first planned, and then executed. i suppose the mutton was brought some miles off, from some place where they knew there was a sheep killed.' talking of the good people with whom we were, he said, 'life has not got at all forward by a generation in m'sweyn's family; for the son is exactly formed upon the father. what the father says, the son says; and what the father looks, the son looks.' there being little conversation to-night, i must endeavour to recollect what i may have omitted on former occasions. when i boasted, at rasay, of my independency of spirit, and that i could not be bribed, he said, 'yes, you may be bribed by flattery.' at the reverend mr. m'lean's, dr. johnson asked him, if the people of col had any superstitions. he said, 'no.' the cutting peats at the increase of the moon was mentioned as one; but he would not allow it, saying, it was not a superstition, but a whim. dr. johnson would not admit the distinction. there were many superstitions, he maintained, not connected with religion; and this was one of them[ ]. on monday we had a dispute at the captain's, whether sand-hills could be fixed down by art. dr. johnson said, 'how _the devil_ can you do it?' but instantly corrected himself, 'how can you do it[ ]?' i never before heard him use a phrase of that nature. he has particularities which it is impossible to explain[ ]. he never wears a night-cap, as i have already mentioned; but he puts a handkerchief on his head in the night. the day that we left talisker, he bade us ride on. he then turned the head of his horse back towards talisker, stopped for some time; then wheeled round to the same direction with ours, and then came briskly after us. he sets open a window in the coldest day or night, and stands before it. it may do with his constitution; but most people, amongst whom i am one, would say, with the frogs in the fable, 'this may be sport to you; but it is death to us.' it is in vain to try to find a meaning in every one of his particularities, which, i suppose, are mere habits, contracted by chance; of which every man has some that are more or less remarkable. his speaking to himself, or rather repeating, is a common habit with studious men accustomed to deep thinking; and, in consequence of their being thus rapt, they will even laugh by themselves, if the subject which they are musing on is a merry one. dr. johnson is often uttering pious ejaculations, when he appears to be talking to himself; for sometimes his voice grows stronger, and parts of the lord's prayer are heard[ ]. i have sat beside him with more than ordinary reverence on such occasions[ ]. in our tour, i observed that he was disgusted whenever he met with coarse manners. he said to me, 'i know not how it is, but i cannot bear low life[ ]: and i find others, who have as good a right as i to be fastidious, bear it better, by having mixed more with different sorts of men. you would think that i have mixed pretty well too.' he read this day a good deal of my _journal_, written in a small book with which he had supplied me, and was pleased, for he said, 'i wish thy books were twice as big.' he helped me to fill up blanks which i had left in first writing it, when i was not quite sure of what he had said, and he corrected any mistakes that i had made. 'they call me a scholar, (said he,) and yet how very little literature is there in my conversation.' boswell. 'that, sir, must be according to your company. you would not give literature to those who cannot taste it. stay till we meet lord elibank.' we had at last a good dinner, or rather supper, and were very well satisfied with our entertainment. wednesday, october . col called me up, with intelligence that it was a good day for a passage to mull; and just as we rose, a sailor from the vessel arrived for us. we got all ready with dispatch. dr. johnson was displeased at my bustling, and walking quickly up and down. he said, 'it does not hasten us a bit. it is getting on horseback in a ship[ ]. all boys do it; and you are longer a boy than others.' he himself has no alertness, or whatever it may be called; so he may dislike it, as _oderunt hilarem tristes[ ]._ before we reached the harbour, the wind grew high again. however, the small boat was waiting and took us on board. we remained for some time in uncertainty what to do: at last it was determined, that, as a good part of the day was over, and it was dangerous to be at sea at night, in such a vessel, and such weather, we should not sail till the morning tide, when the wind would probably be more gentle. we resolved not to go ashore again, but lie here in readiness. dr. johnson and i had each a bed in the cabin. col sat at the fire in the fore-castle, with the captain, and joseph, and the rest. i eat some dry oatmeal, of which i found a barrel in the cabin. i had not done this since i was a boy. dr. johnson owned that he too was fond of it when a boy[ ]; a circumstance which i was highly pleased to hear from him, as it gave me an opportunity of observing that, notwithstanding his joke on the article of oats[ ], he was himself a proof that this kind of _food_ was not peculiar to the people of scotland. thursday, october . when dr. johnson awaked this morning, he called _'lanky!'_ having, i suppose, been thinking of langton; but corrected himself instantly, and cried, _'bozzy!'_ he has a way of contracting the names of his friends. goldsmith feels himself so important now, as to be displeased at it. i remember one day, when tom davies was telling that dr. johnson said, we are all in labour for a name to _goldy's_ play,' goldsmith cried 'i have often desired him not to call me _goldy[ ].'_ between six and seven we hauled our anchor, and set sail with a fair breeze; and, after a pleasant voyage, we got safely and agreeably into the harbour of tobermorie, before the wind rose, which it always has done, for some days, about noon. tobermorie is an excellent harbour. an island lies before it, and it is surrounded by a hilly theatre[ ]. the island is too low, otherwise this would be quite a secure port; but, the island not being a sufficient protection, some storms blow very hard here. not long ago, fifteen vessels were blown from their moorings. there are sometimes sixty or seventy sail here: to-day there were twelve or fourteen vessels. to see such a fleet was the next thing to seeing a town. the vessels were from different places; clyde, campbelltown, newcastle, &c. one was returning to lancaster from hamburgh. after having been shut up so long in col, the sight of such an assemblage of moving habitations, containing such a variety of people, engaged in different pursuits, gave me much gaiety of spirit. when we had landed, dr. johnson said, 'boswell is now all alive. he is like antaeus; he gets new vigour whenever he touches the ground.' i went to the top of a hill fronting the harbour, from whence i had a good view of it. we had here a tolerable inn. dr. johnson had owned to me this morning, that he was out of humour. indeed, he shewed it a good deal in the ship; for when i was expressing my joy on the prospect of our landing in mull, he said, he had no joy, when he recollected that it would be five days before he should get to the main land. i was afraid he would now take a sudden resolution to give up seeing icolmkill. a dish of tea, and some good bread and butter, did him service, and his bad humour went off. i told him, that i was diverted to hear all the people whom we had visited in our tour, say, _'honest man!_ he's pleased with every thing; he's always content!'--'little do they know,' said i. he laughed, and said, 'you rogue[ ]!' we sent to hire horses to carry us across the island of mull to the shore opposite to inchkenneth, the residence of sir allan m'lean, uncle to young col, and chief of the m'leans, to whose house we intended to go the next day. our friend col went to visit his aunt, the wife of dr. alexander m'lean, a physician, who lives about a mile from tobermorie. dr. johnson and i sat by ourselves at the inn, and talked a good deal. i told him, that i had found, in leandro alberti's description of italy, much of what addison has given us in his _remarks_[ ]. he said, 'the collection of passages from the classicks has been made by another italian: it is, however, impossible to detect a man as a plagiary in such a case, because all who set about making such a collection must find the same passages; but, if you find the same applications in another book, then addison's learning in his _remarks_ tumbles down. it is a tedious book; and, if it were not attached to addison's previous reputation, one would not think much of it. had he written nothing else, his name would not have lived. addison does not seem to have gone deep in italian literature: he shews nothing of it in his subsequent writings. he shews a great deal of french learning. there is, perhaps, more knowledge circulated in the french language than in any other[ ]. there is more original knowledge in english.' 'but the french (said i) have the art of accommodating[ ] literature.' johnson. 'yes, sir: we have no such book as moreri's _dictionary_[ ].' boswell. 'their _ana_[ ] are good.' johnson. 'a few of them are good; but we have one book of that kind better than any of them; selden's _table-talk_. as to original literature, the french have a couple of tragick poets who go round the world, racine and corneille, and one comick poet, moliere.' boswell. 'they have fenelon.' johnson. 'why, sir, _telemachus_ is pretty well.' boswell. 'and voltaire, sir.' johnson. 'he has not stood his trial yet. and what makes voltaire chiefly circulate is collection; such as his _universal history_.' boswell. 'what do you say to the bishop of meaux?' johnson. 'sir, nobody reads him[ ].' he would not allow massilon and bourdaloue to go round the world. in general, however, he gave the french much praise for their industry. he asked me whether he had mentioned, in any of the papers of the _rambler_, the description in virgil of the entrance into hell, with an application to the press; 'for (said he) i do not much remember them.' i told him, 'no.' upon which he repeated it:-- 'vestibulum ante ipsum, primisque in faucibus orci, luctus et ultrices posuere cubilia curae; pallentesque habitant morbi, tristisque senectus, et metus, et malesuada fames, et turpis egestas, terribiles visu formae; lethumque, laborque[ ].' 'now, (said he) almost all these apply exactly to an authour: all these are the concomitants of a printing-house. i proposed to him to dictate an essay on it, and offered to write it. he said, he would not do it then, but perhaps would write one at some future period. the sunday evening that we sat by ourselves at aberdeen, i asked him several particulars of his life, from his early years, which he readily told me; and i wrote them down before him. this day i proceeded in my inquiries, also writing them in his presence. i have them on detached sheets. i shall collect authentick materials for the life of samuel johnson, ll.d.; and, if i survive him, i shall be one who will most faithfully do honour to his memory. i have now a vast treasure of his conversation, at different times, since the year [ ], when i first obtained his acquaintance; and, by assiduous inquiry, i can make up for not knowing him sooner[ ]. a newcastle ship-master, who happened to be in the house, intruded himself upon us. he was much in liquor, and talked nonsense about his being a man for _wilkes and liberty_, and against the ministry. dr. johnson was angry, that 'a fellow should come into _our_ company, who was fit for _no_ company.' he left us soon. col returned from his aunt, and told us, she insisted that we should come to her house that night. he introduced to us mr. campbell, the duke of argyle's factor in tyr-yi. he was a genteel, agreeable man. he was going to inverary, and promised to put letters into the post-office for us[ ]. i now found that dr. johnson's desire to get on the main land, arose from his anxiety to have an opportunity of conveying letters to his friends. after dinner, we proceeded to dr. m'lean's, which was about a mile from our inn. he was not at home, but we were received by his lady and daughter, who entertained us so well, that dr. johnson seemed quite happy. when we had supped, he asked me to give him some paper to write letters. i begged he would write short ones, and not _expatiate_, as we ought to set off early. he was irritated by this, and said, 'what must be done; must be done: the thing is past a joke.' 'nay, sir, (said i,) write as much as you please; but do not blame me, if we are kept six days before we get to the main land. you were very impatient in the morning: but no sooner do you find yourself in good quarters, than you forget that you are to move.' i got him paper enough, and we parted in good humour. let me now recollect whatever particulars i have omitted. in the morning i said to him, before we landed at tobermorie, 'we shall see dr. m'lean, who has written _the history of the m'leans'_. johnson. 'i have no great patience to stay to hear the history of the m'leans. i would rather hear the history of the thrales.' when on mull, i said, 'well, sir, this is the fourth of the hebrides that we have been upon.' johnson. 'nay, we cannot boast of the number we have seen. we thought we should see many more. we thought of sailing about easily from island to island; and so we should, had we come at a better season[ ]; but we, being wise men, thought it would be summer all the year where _we_ were. however, sir, we have seen enough to give us a pretty good notion of the system of insular life.' let me not forget, that he sometimes amused himself with very slight reading; from which, however, his conversation shewed that he contrived to extract some benefit. at captain m'lean's he read a good deal in _the charmer_, a collection of songs[ ]. we this morning found that we could not proceed, there being a violent storm of wind and rain, and the rivers being impassable. when i expressed my discontent at our confinement, dr. johnson said, 'now that i have had an opportunity of writing to the main land, i am in no such haste.' i was amused with his being so easily satisfied; for the truth was, that the gentleman who was to convey our letters, as i was now informed, was not to set out for inverary for some time; so that it was probable we should be there as soon as he: however, i did not undeceive my friend, but suffered him to enjoy his fancy. dr. johnson asked, in the evening, to see dr. m'lean's books. he took down willis _de anima brutorum_[ ], and pored over it a good deal. miss m'lean produced some erse poems by john m'lean, who was a famous bard in mull, and had died only a few years ago. he could neither read nor write. she read and translated two of them; one, a kind of elegy on sir john m'lean's being obliged to fly his country in ; another, a dialogue between two roman catholick young ladies, sisters, whether it was better to be a nun or to marry. i could not perceive much poetical imagery in the translation. yet all of our company who understood erse, seemed charmed with the original. there may, perhaps, be some choice of expression, and some excellence of arrangement, that cannot be shewn in translation. after we had exhausted the erse poems, of which dr. johnson said nothing, miss m'lean gave us several tunes on a spinnet, which, though made so long ago as in , was still very well toned. she sung along with it. dr. johnson seemed pleased with the musick, though he owns he neither likes it, nor has hardly any perception of it. at mr. m'pherson's, in slate, he told us, that 'he knew a drum from a trumpet, and a bagpipe from a guittar, which was about the extent of his knowledge of musick.' to-night he said, that, 'if he had learnt musick, he should have been afraid he would have done nothing else but play. it was a method of employing the mind without the labour of thinking at all, and with some applause from a man's self[ ].' we had the musick of the bagpipe every day, at armidale, dunvegan, and col. dr. johnson appeared fond of it, and used often to stand for some time with his ear close to the great drone. the penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, formerly alluded to[ ], afforded us a topick of conversation to-night. dr. johnson said, i ought to write down a collection of the instances of his narrowness, as they almost exceeded belief. col told us, that o'kane, the famous irish harper, was once at that gentleman's house. he could not find in his heart to give him any money, but gave him a key for a harp, which was finely ornamented with gold and silver, and with a precious stone, and was worth eighty or a hundred guineas. he did not know the value of it; and when he came to know it, he would fain have had it back; but o'kane took care that he should not. johnson. 'they exaggerate the value; every body is so desirous that he should be fleeced. i am very willing it should be worth eighty or a hundred guineas; but i do not believe it.' boswell. 'i do not think o'kane was obliged to give it back.' johnson. 'no, sir. if a man with his eyes open, and without any means used to deceive him, gives me a thing, i am not to let him have it again when he grows wiser. i like to see how avarice defeats itself: how, when avoiding to part with money, the miser gives something more valuable.' col said, the gentleman's relations were angry at his giving away the harp-key, for it had been long in the family. johnson. 'sir, he values a new guinea more than an old friend.' col also told us, that the same person having come up with a serjeant and twenty men, working on the high road, he entered into discourse with the serjeant, and then gave him sixpence for the men to drink. the serjeant asked, 'who is this fellow?'. upon being informed, he said, 'if i had known who he was, i should have thrown it in his face.' johnson. 'there is much want of sense in all this. he had no business to speak with the serjeant. he might have been in haste, and trotted on. he has not learnt to be a miser: i believe we must take him apprentice.' boswell. 'he would grudge giving half a guinea to be taught.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you must teach him _gratis_. you must give him an opportunity to practice your precepts.' let me now go back, and glean _johnsoniana_. the saturday before we sailed from slate, i sat awhile in the afternoon, with dr. johnson in his room, in a quiet serious frame. i observed, that hardly any man was accurately prepared for dying; but almost every one left something undone, something in confusion; that my father, indeed, told me he knew one man, (carlisle of limekilns,) after whose death all his papers were found in exact order; and nothing was omitted in his will. johnson. 'sir, i had an uncle who died so; but such attention requires great leisure, and great firmness of mind. if one was to think constantly of death, the business of life would stand still. i am no friend to making religion appear too hard. many good people have done harm by giving severe notions of it. in the same way, as to learning: i never frighten young people with difficulties; on the contrary, i tell them that they may very easily get as much as will do very well. i do not indeed tell them that they will be _bentleys_! the night we rode to col's house, i said, 'lord elibank is probably wondering what is become of us.' johnson. 'no, no; he is not thinking of us.' boswell. 'but recollect the warmth with which he wrote[ ]. are we not to believe a man, when he says he has a great desire to see another? don't you believe that i was very impatient for your coming to scotland?' johnson. 'yes, sir; i believe you were; and i was impatient to come to you. a young man feels so, but seldom an old man.' i however convinced him that lord elibank, who has much of the spirit of a young man, might feel so. he asked me if our jaunt had answered expectation. i said it had much exceeded it. i expected much difficulty with him, and had not found it. 'and (he added) wherever we have come, we have been received like princes in their progress.' he said, he would not wish not to be disgusted in the highlands; for that would be to lose the power of distinguishing, and a man might then lie down in the middle of them. he wished only to conceal his disgust. at captain m'lean's, i mentioned pope's friend, spence. johnson. 'he was a weak conceited man[ ].' boswell. 'a good scholar, sir?' johnson. 'why, no, sir.' boswell. 'he was a pretty scholar.' johnson. 'you have about reached him.' last night at the inn, when the factor in tyr-yi spoke of his having heard that a roof was put on some part of the buildings at icolmkill, i unluckily said, 'it will be fortunate if we find a cathedral with a roof on it.' i said this from a foolish anxiety to engage dr. johnson's curiosity more. he took me short at once. 'what, sir? how can you talk so? if we shall _find_ a cathedral roofed! as if we were going to a _terra incognita_; when every thing that is at icolmkill is so well known. you are like some new-england-men who came to the mouth of the thames. "come, (say they,) let us go up and see what sort of inhabitants there are here." they talked, sir, as if they had been to go up the susquehannah, or any other american river.' saturday, october . this day there was a new moon, and the weather changed for the better. dr. johnson said of miss m'lean, 'she is the most accomplished lady that i have found in the highlands. she knows french, musick, and drawing, sews neatly, makes shellwork, and can milk cows; in short, she can do every thing. she talks sensibly, and is the first person whom i have found, that can translate erse poetry literally[ ].' we set out, mounted on little mull horses. mull corresponded exactly with the idea which i had always had of it; a hilly country, diversified with heath and grass, and many rivulets. dr. johnson was not in very good humour. he said, it was a dreary country, much worse than sky. i differed from him. 'o, sir, (said he,) a most dolorous country[ ]!' we had a very hard journey to-day. i had no bridle for my sheltie, but only a halter; and joseph rode without a saddle. at one place, a loch having swelled over the road, we were obliged to plunge through pretty deep water. dr. johnson observed, how helpless a man would be, were he travelling here alone, and should meet with any accident; and said, 'he longed to get to _a country of saddles and bridles_' he was more out of humour to-day, than he has been in the course of our tour, being fretted to find that his little horse could scarcely support his weight; and having suffered a loss, which, though small in itself, was of some consequence to him, while travelling the rugged steeps of mull, where he was at times obliged to walk. the loss that i allude to was that of the large oak-stick, which, as i formerly mentioned, he had brought with him from london[ ]. it was of great use to him in our wild peregrination; for, ever since his last illness in [ ], he has had a weakness in his knees, and has not been able to walk easily. it had too the properties of a measure; for one nail was driven into it at the length of a foot; another at that of a yard. in return for the services it had done him, he said, this morning he would make a present of it to some museum; but he little thought he was so soon to lose it. as he preferred riding with a switch, it was entrusted to a fellow to be delivered to our baggage-man, who followed us at some distance; but we never saw it more. i could not persuade him out of a suspicion that it had been stolen. 'no, no, my friend, (said he,) it is not to be expected that any man in mull, who has got it, will part with it. consider, sir, the value of such a _piece of timber_ here!' as we travelled this forenoon, we met dr. mclean, who expressed much regret at his having been so unfortunate as to be absent while we were at his house. we were in hopes to get to sir allan maclean's at inchkenneth, to-night; but the eight miles, of which our road was said to consist, were so very long, that we did not reach the opposite coast of mull till seven at night, though we had set out about eleven in the forenoon; and when we did arrive there, we found the wind strong against us. col determined that we should pass the night at m'quarrie's, in the island of ulva, which lies between mull and inchkenneth; and a servant was sent forward to the ferry, to secure the boat for us; but the boat was gone to the ulva side, and the wind was so high that the people could not hear him call; and the night so dark that they could not see a signal. we should have been in a very bad situation, had there not fortunately been lying in the little sound of ulva an irish vessel, the bonnetta, of londonderry, captain m'lure, master. he himself was at m'quarrie's; but his men obligingly came with their long-boat, and ferried us over. m'quarrie's house was mean; but we were agreeably surprized with the appearance of the master, whom we found to be intelligent, polite, and much a man of the world. though his clan is not numerous, he is a very ancient chief, and has a burial place at icolmkill. he told us, his family had possessed ulva for nine hundred years; but i was distressed to hear that it was soon to be sold for payment of his debts. captain m'lure, whom we found here, was of scotch extraction, and properly a mcleod, being descended of some of the m'leods who went with sir normand of bernera to the battle of worcester; and after the defeat of the royalists, fled to ireland, and, to conceal themselves, took a different name. he told me, there was a great number of them about londonderry; some of good property. i said, they should now resume their real name. the laird of m'leod should go over, and assemble them, and make them all drink the large horn full[ ], and from that time they should be m'leods. the captain informed us, he had named his ship the bonnetta, out of gratitude to providence; for once, when he was sailing to america with a good number of passengers, the ship in which he then sailed was becalmed for five weeks, and during all that time, numbers of the fish bonnetta swam close to her, and were caught for food; he resolved therefore, that the ship he should next get, should be called the bonnetta. m'quarrie told us a strong instance of the second sight. he had gone to edinburgh, and taken a man-servant along with him. an old woman, who was in the house, said one day, 'm'quarrie will be at home to-morrow, and will bring two gentlemen with him;' and she said, she saw his servant return in red and green. he did come home next day. he had two gentlemen with him; and his servant had a new red and green livery, which m'quarrie had bought for him at edinburgh, upon a sudden thought, not having the least intention when he left home to put his servant in livery; so that the old woman could not have heard any previous mention of it. this, he assured us, was a true story. m'quarrie insisted that the _mercheta mulierum_, mentioned in our old charters, did really mean the privilege which a lord of the manor, or a baron, had, to have the first night of all his vassals' wives. dr. johnson said, the belief of such a custom having existed was also held in england, where there is a tenure called _borough english_, by which the eldest child does not inherit, from a doubt of his being the son of the tenant[ ]. m'quarrie told us, that still, on the marriage of each of his tenants, a sheep is due to him; for which the composition is fixed at five shillings[ ]. i suppose, ulva is the only place where this custom remains. talking of the sale of an estate of an ancient family, which was said to have been purchased much under its value by the confidential lawyer of that family, and it being mentioned that the sale would probably be set aside by a suit in equity, dr. johnson said, 'i am very willing that this sale should be set aside, but i doubt much whether the suit will be successful; for the argument for avoiding the sale is founded on vague and indeterminate principles, as that the price was too low, and that there was a great degree of confidence placed by the seller in the person who became the purchaser. now, how low should a price be? or what degree of confidence should there be to make a bargain be set aside? a bargain, which is a wager of skill between man and man. if, indeed, any fraud can be proved, that will do.' when dr. johnson and i were by ourselves at night, i observed of our host, '_aspectum generosum habet;'--'et generosum animum_', he added. for fear of being overheard in the small highland houses, i often talked to him in such latin as i could speak, and with as much of the english accent as i could assume, so as not to be understood, in case our conversation should be too loud for the space. we had each an elegant bed in the same room; and here it was that a circumstance occurred, as to which he has been strangely misunderstood. from his description of his chamber, it has erroneously been supposed, that his bed being too short for him, his feet during the night were in the mire; whereas he has only said, that when he undressed, he felt his feet in the mire: that is, the clay-floor of the room, on which he stood upon before he went into bed, was wet, in consequence of the windows being broken, which let in the rain[ ]. sunday, october . being informed that there was nothing worthy of observation in ulva, we took boat, and proceeded to inchkenneth, where we were introduced by our friend col to sir allan m'lean, the chief of his clan, and to two young ladies, his daughters. inchkenneth is a pretty little island, a mile long, and about half a mile broad, all good land[ ]. as we walked up from the shore, dr. johnson's heart was cheered by the sight of a road marked with cart-wheels, as on the main land; a thing which we had not seen for a long time. it gave us a pleasure similar to that which a traveller feels, when, whilst wandering on what he fears is a desert island, he perceives the print of human feet. military men acquire excellent habits of having all conveniences about them. sir allan m'lean, who had been long in the army, and had now a lease of the island, had formed a commodious habitation, though it consisted but of a few small buildings, only one story high[ ]. he had, in his little apartments, more things than i could enumerate in a page or two. among other agreeable circumstances, it was not the least, to find here a parcel of the _caledonian mercury_, published since we left edinburgh; which i read with that pleasure which every man feels who has been for some time secluded from the animated scenes of the busy world. dr. johnson found books here. he bade me buy bishop gastrell's _christian institutes_[ ], which was lying in the room. he said, 'i do not like to read any thing on a sunday, but what is theological; not that i would scrupulously refuse to look at any thing which a friend should shew me in a newspaper; but in general, i would read only what is theological. i read just now some of drummond's _travels_[ ], before i perceived what books were here. i then took up derham's _physico-theology_[ ].' every particular concerning this island having been so well described by dr. johnson, it would be superfluous in me to present the publick with the observations that i made upon it, in my _journal_. i was quite easy with sir allan almost instantaneously. he knew the great intimacy that had been between my father and his predecessor, sir hector, and was himself of a very frank disposition. after dinner, sir allan said he had got dr. campbell about an hundred subscribers to his _britannia elucidata_, (a work since published under the title of _a political survey of great britain_[ ],) of whom he believed twenty were dead, the publication having been so long delayed. johnson. 'sir, i imagine the delay of publication is owing to this;--that, after publication, there will be no more subscribers, and few will send the additional guinea to get their books: in which they will be wrong; for there will be a great deal of instruction in the work. i think highly of campbell[ ]. in the first place, he has very good parts. in the second place, he has very extensive reading; not, perhaps, what is properly called learning, but history, politicks, and, in short, that popular knowledge which makes a man very useful. in the third place, he has learned much by what is called the _vox viva_. he talks with a great many people.' speaking of this gentleman, at rasay, he told us, that he one day called on him, and they talked of tull's _husbandry_[ ]. dr. campbell said something. dr. johnson began to dispute it. 'come, (said dr. campbell,) we do not want to get the better of one another: we want to encrease each other's ideas.' dr. johnson took it in good part, and the conversation then went on coolly and instructively. his candour in relating this anecdote does him much credit, and his conduct on that occasion proves how easily he could be persuaded to talk from a better motive than 'for victory[ ].' dr. johnson here shewed so much of the spirit of a highlander, that he won sir allan's heart: indeed, he has shewn it during the whole of our tour. one night, in col, he strutted about the room with a broad sword and target, and made a formidable appearance; and, another night, i took the liberty to put a large blue bonnet on his head. his age, his size, and his bushy grey wig, with this covering on it, presented the image of a venerable _senachi_[ ]: and, however unfavourable to the lowland scots, he seemed much pleased to assume the appearance of an ancient caledonian. we only regretted that he could not be prevailed with to partake of the social glass. one of his arguments against drinking, appears to me not convincing. he urged, that 'in proportion as drinking makes a man different from what he is before he has drunk, it is bad; because it has so far affected his reason.' but may it not be answered, that a man may be altered by it _for the better_; that his spirits may be exhilarated, without his reason being affected[ ]. on the general subject of drinking, however, i do not mean positively to take the other side. i am _dubius, non improbus_. in the evening, sir allan informed us that it was the custom of his house to have prayers every sunday; and miss m'lean read the evening service, in which we all joined. i then read ogden's second and ninth _sermons on prayer_, which, with their other distinguished excellence, have the merit of being short. dr. johnson said, that it was the most agreeable sunday he had ever passed[ ]; and it made such an impression on his mind, that he afterwards wrote the following latin verses upon inchkenneth[ ]:-- insula sancti kennethi. parva quidem regio, sed relligione priorum nota, caledonias panditur inter aquas; voce ubi cennethus populos domuisse feroces dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos. hue ego delatus placido per coerula cursu scire locum volui quid daret ille novi. illic leniades humili regnabat in aula, leniades magnis nobilitatus avis: una duas habuit casa cum genitore puellas, quas amor undarum fingeret esse deas: non tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris, accola danubii qualia saevus habet; mollia non decrant vacuae solatia vitae, sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram. luxerat ilia dies, legis gens docta supernae spes hominum ac curas cum procul esse jubet, ponti inter strepitus sacri non munera cultus cessarunt; pietas hic quoque cura fuit: quid quod sacrifici versavit femina libros, legitimas faciunt pectora pura preces[ ]. quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est; hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor[ ]. monday, october . we agreed to pass this day with sir allan, and he engaged to have every thing in order for our voyage to-morrow. being now soon to be separated from our amiable friend young col, his merits were all remembered. at ulva he had appeared in a new character, having given us a good prescription for a cold. on my mentioning him with warmth, dr. johnson said, 'col does every thing for us: we will erect a statue to col.' 'yes, said i, and we will have him with his various attributes and characters, like mercury, or any other of the heathen gods. we will have him as a pilot; we will have him as a fisherman, as a hunter, as a husbandman, as a physician.' i this morning took a spade, and dug a little grave in the floor of a ruined chapel[ ], near sir allan m'lean's house, in which i buried some human bones i found there. dr. johnson praised me for what i had done, though he owned, he could not have done it. he shewed in the chapel at rasay[ ] his horrour at dead men's bones. he shewed it again at col's house. in the charter-room there was a remarkable large shin-bone, which was said to have been a bone of _john garve_[ ], one of the lairds. dr. johnson would not look at it; but started away. at breakfast, i asked, 'what is the reason that we are angry at a trader's having opulence[ ]?' johnson. 'why, sir, the reason is, (though i don't undertake to prove that there is a reason,) we see no qualities in trade that should entitle a man to superiority. we are not angry at a soldier's getting riches, because we see that he possesses qualities which we have not. if a man returns from a battle, having lost one hand, and with the other full of gold, we feel that he deserves the gold; but we cannot think that a fellow, by sitting all day at a desk, is entitled to get above us.' boswell. 'but, sir, may we not suppose a merchant to be a man of an enlarged mind, such as addison in the _spectator_ describes sir andrew freeport to have been?' johnson. 'why, sir, we may suppose any fictitious character. we may suppose a philosophical day-labourer, who is happy in reflecting that, by his labour, he contributes to the fertility of the earth, and to the support of his fellow-creatures; but we find no such philosophical day-labourer. a merchant may, perhaps, be a man of an enlarged mind; but there is nothing in trade connected with an enlarged mind[ ].' i mentioned that i had heard dr. solander say he was a swedish laplander[ ]. johnson. 'sir, i don't believe he is a laplander. the laplanders are not much above four feet high. he is as tall as you; and he has not the copper colour of a laplander.' boswell. 'but what motive could he have to make himself a laplander?' johnson. 'why, sir, he must either mean the word laplander in a very extensive sense, or may mean a voluntary degradation of himself. "for all my being the great man that you see me now, i was originally a barbarian;" as if burke should say, "i came over a wild irishman." which he might say in his present state of exaltation.' having expressed a desire to have an island like inchkenneth, dr. johnson set himself to think what would be necessary for a man in such a situation. 'sir, i should build me a fortification, if i came to live here; for, if you have it not, what should hinder a parcel of ruffians to land in the night, and carry off every thing you have in the house, which, in a remote country, would be more valuable than cows and sheep? add to all this the danger of having your throat cut.' boswell. 'i would have a large dog.' johnson. 'so you may, sir; but a large dog is of no use but to alarm.' he, however, i apprehend, thinks too lightly of the power of that animal. i have heard him say, that he is afraid of no dog. 'he would take him up by the hinder legs, which would render him quite helpless,--and then knock his head against a stone, and beat out his brains.' topham beauclerk told me, that at his house in the country, two large ferocious dogs were fighting. dr. johnson looked steadily at them for a little while; and then, as one would separate two little boys, who were foolishly hurting each other, he ran up to them, and cuffed their heads till he drove them asunder[ ]. but few men have his intrepidity, herculean strength, or presence of mind. most thieves or robbers would be afraid to encounter a mastiff. i observed, that, when young col talked of the lands belonging to his family, he always said, '_my_ lands[ ].' for this he had a plausible pretence; for he told me, there has been a custom in this family, that the laird resigns the estate to the eldest son when he comes of age, reserving to himself only a certain life-rent. he said, it was a voluntary custom; but i think i found an instance in the charter-room, that there was such an obligation in a contract of marriage. if the custom was voluntary, it was only curious; but if founded on obligation, it might be dangerous; for i have been told, that in otaheité, whenever a child is born, (a son, i think,) the father loses his right to the estate and honours, and that this unnatural, or rather absurd custom, occasions the murder of many children. young col told us he could run down a greyhound; 'for, (said he,) the dog runs himself out of breath, by going too quick, and then i get up with him[ ].' i accounted for his advantage over the dog, by remarking that col had the faculty of reason, and knew how to moderate his pace, which the dog had not sense enough to do. dr. johnson said, 'he is a noble animal. he is as complete an islander as the mind can figure. he is a farmer, a sailor, a hunter, a fisher: he will run you down a dog: if any man has a _tail_[ ], it is col. he is hospitable; and he has an intrepidity of talk, whether he understands the subject or not. i regret that he is not more intellectual.' dr. johnson observed, that there was nothing of which he would not undertake to persuade a frenchman in a foreign country. 'i'll carry a frenchman to st. paul's church-yard, and i'll tell him, "by our law you may walk half round the church; but, if you walk round the whole, you will be punished capitally," and he will believe me at once. now, no englishman would readily swallow such a thing: he would go and inquire of somebody else[ ].' the frenchman's credulity, i observed, must be owing to his being accustomed to implicit submission; whereas every englishman reasons upon the laws of his country, and instructs his representatives, who compose the legislature. this day was passed in looking at a small island adjoining inchkenneth, which afforded nothing worthy of observation; and in such social and gay entertainments as our little society could furnish. tuesday, october . after breakfast we took leave of the young ladies, and of our excellent companion col, to whom we had been so much obliged. he had now put us under the care of his chief; and was to hasten back to sky. we parted from him with very strong feelings of kindness and gratitude; and we hoped to have had some future opportunity of proving to him the sincerity of what we felt; but in the following year he was unfortunately lost in the sound between ulva and mull[ ]; and this imperfect memorial, joined to the high honour of being tenderly and respectfully mentioned by dr. johnson, is the only return which the uncertainty of human events has permitted us to make to this deserving young man. sir allan, who obligingly undertook to accompany us to icolmkill[ ], had a strong good boat, with four stout rowers. we coasted along mull till we reached _gribon_, where is what is called mackinnon's cave, compared with which that at ulinish[ ] is inconsiderable. it is in a rock of a great height, close to the sea. upon the left of its entrance there is a cascade, almost perpendicular from the top to the bottom of the rock. there is a tradition that it was conducted thither artificially, to supply the inhabitants of the cave with water. dr. johnson gave no credit to this tradition. as, on the one hand, his faith in the christian religion is firmly founded upon good grounds; so, on the other, he is incredulous when there is no sufficient reason for belief[ ]; being in this respect just the reverse of modern infidels, who, however nice and scrupulous in weighing the evidences of religion, are yet often so ready to believe the most absurd and improbable tales of another nature, that lord hailes well observed, a good essay might be written _sur la crédulité des incrédules_. the height of this cave i cannot tell with any tolerable exactness; but it seemed to be very lofty, and to be a pretty regular arch. we penetrated, by candlelight, a great way; by our measurement, no less than four hundred and eighty-five feet. tradition says, that a piper and twelve men once advanced into this cave, nobody can tell how far; and never returned. at the distance to which we proceeded the air was quite pure; for the candle burned freely, without the least appearance of the flame growing globular; but as we had only one, we thought it dangerous to venture farther, lest, should it have been extinguished, we should have had no means of ascertaining whether we could remain without danger. dr. johnson said, this was the greatest natural curiosity he had ever seen. we saw the island of staffa, at no very great distance, but could not land upon it, the surge was so high on its rocky coast[ ]. sir allan, anxious for the honour of mull, was still talking of its _woods_, and pointing them out to dr. johnson, as appearing at a distance on the skirts of that island, as we sailed along. johnson. 'sir, i saw at tobermorie what they called a wood, which i unluckily took for _heath_. if you shew me what i shall take for _furze_, it will be something.' in the afternoon we went ashore on the coast of mull, and partook of a cold repast, which we carried with us. we hoped to have procured some rum or brandy for our boatmen and servants, from a publick-house near where we landed; but unfortunately a funeral a few days before had exhausted all their store[ ]. mr. campbell, however, one of the duke of argyle's tacksmen, who lived in the neighbourhood, on receiving a message from sir allan, sent us a liberal supply. we continued to coast along mull, and passed by nuns' island, which, it is said, belonged to the nuns of icolmkill, and from which, we were told, the stone for the buildings there was taken. as we sailed along by moon-light, in a sea somewhat rough, and often between black and gloomy rocks, dr. johnson said, 'if this be not _roving among the hebrides_, nothing is[ ]. the repetition of words which he had so often previously used, made a strong impression on my imagination; and, by a natural course of thinking, led me to consider how our present adventures would appear to me at a future period. i have often experienced, that scenes through which a man has passed, improve by lying in the memory: they grow mellow. _acti labores sunt jucundi_[ ]. this may be owing to comparing them with present listless ease. even harsh scenes acquire a softness by length of time[ ]; and some are like very loud sounds, which do not please, or at least do not please so much, till you are removed to a certain distance. they may be compared to strong coarse pictures, which will not bear to be viewed near. even pleasing scenes improve by time, and seem more exquisite in recollection, than when they were present; if they have not faded to dimness in the memory. perhaps, there is so much evil in every human enjoyment, when present,--so much dross mixed with it, that it requires to be refined by time; and yet i do not see why time should not melt away the good and the evil in equal proportions;--why the shade should decay, and the light remain in preservation. after a tedious sail, which, by our following various turnings of the coast of mull, was extended to about forty miles, it gave us no small pleasure to perceive a light in the village at icolmkill, in which almost all the inhabitants of the island live, close to where the ancient building stood. as we approached the shore, the tower of the cathedral, just discernible in the air, was a picturesque object. when we had landed upon the sacred place, which, as long as i can remember, i had thought on with veneration, dr. johnson and i cordially embraced. we had long talked of visiting icolmkill; and, from the lateness of the season, were at times very doubtful whether we should be able to effect our purpose. to have seen it, even alone, would have given me great satisfaction; but the venerable scene was rendered much more pleasing by the company of my great and pious friend, who was no less affected by it than i was; and who has described the impressions it should make on the mind, with such strength of thought, and energy of language, that i shall quote his words, as conveying my own sensations much more forcibly than i am capable of doing:-- 'we were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. to abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible, if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. far from me, and from my friends, be such frigid philosophy as may conduct us indifferent and unmoved over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery, or virtue. that man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of _marathon_, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of _iona_[ ]!' upon hearing that sir allan m'lean was arrived, the inhabitants, who still consider themselves as the people of m'lean, to whom the island formerly belonged, though the duke of argyle has at present possession of it, ran eagerly to him. we were accommodated this night in a large barn, the island, affording no lodging that we should have liked so well. some good hay was strewed at one end of it, to form a bed for us, upon which we lay with our clothes on; and we were furnished with blankets from the village[ ]. each of us had a portmanteau for a pillow. when i awaked in the morning, and looked round me, i could not help smiling at the idea of the chief of the m'leans, the great english moralist, and myself, lying thus extended in such a situation. wednesday, october . early in the morning we surveyed the remains of antiquity at this place, accompanied by an illiterate fellow, as _cicerone_, who called himself a descendant of a cousin of saint columba, the founder of the religious establishment here. as i knew that many persons had already examined them, and as i saw dr. johnson inspecting and measuring several of the ruins of which he has since given so full an account, my mind was quiescent; and i resolved to stroll among them at my ease, to take no trouble to investigate minutely, and only receive the general impression of solemn antiquity, and the particular ideas of such objects as should of themselves strike my attention. we walked from the monastery of nuns to the great church or cathedral, as they call it, along an old broken causeway. they told us, that this had been a street; and that there were good houses built on each side. dr. johnson doubted if it was any thing more than a paved road for the nuns. the convent of monks, the great church, oran's chapel, and four other chapels, are still to be discerned. but i must own that icolmkill did not answer my expectations; for they were high, from what i had read of it, and still more from what i had heard and thought of it, from my earliest years. dr. johnson said, it came up to his expectations, because he had taken his impression from an account of it subjoined to sacheverel's _history of the isle of man_[ ], where it is said, there is not much to be seen here. we were both disappointed, when we were shewn what are called the monuments of the kings of scotland, ireland, and denmark, and of a king of france. there are only some grave-stones flat on the earth, and we could see no inscriptions. how far short was this of marble monuments, like those in westminster abbey, which i had imagined here! the grave-stones of sir allan m'lean's family, and of that of m'quarrie, had as good an appearance as the royal grave-stones; if they were royal, we doubted. my easiness to give credit to what i heard in the course of our tour was too great. dr. johnson's peculiar accuracy of investigation detected much traditional fiction, and many gross mistakes. it is not to be wondered at, that he was provoked by people carelessly telling him, with the utmost readiness and confidence, what he found, on questioning them a little more, was erroneous[ ]. of this there were innumerable instances. i left him and sir allan at breakfast in our barn, and stole back again to the cathedral, to indulge in solitude and devout meditation[ ]. while contemplating the venerable ruins, i refleeted with much satisfaction, that the solemn scenes of piety never lose their sanctity and influence, though the cares and follies of life may prevent us from visiting them, or may even make us fancy that their effects are only 'as yesterday, when it is past[ ],' and never again to be perceived. i hoped, that, ever after having been in this holy place, i should maintain an exemplary conduct. one has a strange propensity to fix upon some point of time from whence a better course of life may begin[ ]. being desirous to visit the opposite shore of the island, where saint columba is said to have landed, i procured a horse from one m'ginnis[ ], who ran along as my guide. the m'ginnises are said to be a branch of the clan of m'lean. sir allan had been told that this man had refused to send him some rum, at which the knight was in great indignation. 'you rascal! (said he,) don't you know that i can hang you, if i please?' not adverting to the chieftain's power over his clan, i imagined that sir allan had known of some capital crime that the fellow had committed, which he could discover, and so get him condemned; and said, 'how so?' 'why, (said sir allan,) are they not all my people?' sensible of my inadvertency, and most willing to contribute what i could towards the continuation of feudal authority, 'very true,' said i. sir allan went on: 'refuse to send rum to me, you rascal! don't you know that, if i order you to go and cut a man's throat, you are to do it?' 'yes, an't please your honour! and my own too, and hang myself too.' the poor fellow denied that he had refused to send the rum. his making these professions was not merely a pretence in presence of his chief; for after he and i were out of sir allan's hearing, he told me, 'had he sent his dog for the rum, i would have given it: i would cut my bones for him.' it was very remarkable to find such an attachment to a chief, though he had then no connection with the island, and had not been there for fourteen years. sir allan, by way of upbraiding the fellow, said, 'i believe you are a _campbell_.' the place which i went to see is about two miles from the village. they call it _portawherry_, from the wherry in which columba came; though, when they shew the length of his vessel, as marked on the beach by two heaps of stones, they say, 'here is the length of the _currach_', using the erse word. icolmkill is a fertile island. the inhabitants export some cattle and grain; and i was told, they import nothing but iron and salt. they are industrious, and make their own woollen and linen cloth; and they brew a good deal of beer, which we did not find in any of the other islands[ ]. we set sail again about mid-day, and in the evening landed on mull, near the house of the reverend mr. neal m'leod, who having been informed of our coming, by a message from sir allan, came out to meet us. we were this night very agreeably entertained at his house. dr. johnson observed to me, that he was the cleanest-headed man that he had met with in the western islands. he seemed to be well acquainted with dr. johnson's writings, and courteously said, 'i have been often obliged to you, though i never had the pleasure of seeing you before.' he told us, he had lived for some time in st. kilda, under the tuition of the minister or catechist there, and had there first read horace and virgil. the scenes which they describe must have been a strong contrast to the dreary waste around him. thursday, october . this morning the subject of politicks was introduced. johnson. 'pulteney was as paltry a fellow as could be[ ]. he was a whig, who pretended to be honest; and you know it is ridiculous for a whig to pretend to be honest. he cannot hold it out[ ].' he called mr. pitt a meteor; sir robert walpole a fixed star[ ]. he said, 'it is wonderful to think that all the force of government was required to prevent wilkes from being chosen the chief magistrate of london[ ], though the liverymen knew he would rob their shops,--knew he would debauch their daughters[ ].' boswell. 'the history of england is so strange, that, if it were not so well vouched as it is, it would hardly be credible.' johnson. 'sir, if it were told as shortly, and with as little preparation for introducing the different events, as the history of the jewish kings, it would be equally liable to objections of improbability.' mr. m'leod was much pleased with the justice and novelty of the thought. dr. johnson illustrated what he had said, as follows: 'take, as an instance, charles the first's concessions to his parliament, which were greater and greater, in proportion as the parliament grew more insolent, and less deserving of trust. had these concessions been related nakedly, without any detail of the circumstances which generally led to them, they would not have been believed.' sir allan m'lean bragged, that scotland had the advantage of england, by its having more water. johnson. 'sir, we would not have your water, to take the vile bogs which produce it. you have too much! a man who is drowned has more water than either of us;'--and then he laughed. (but this was surely robust sophistry: for the people of taste in england, who have seen scotland, own that its variety of rivers and lakes makes it naturally more beautiful than england, in that respect.) pursuing his victory over sir allan, he proceeded: 'your country consists of two things, stone and water. there is, indeed, a little earth above the stone in some places, but a very little; and the stone is always appearing. it is like a man in rags; the naked skin is still peeping out.' he took leave of mr. m'leod, saying, 'sir, i thank you for your entertainment, and your conversation.' mr. campbell, who had been so polite yesterday, came this morning on purpose to breakfast with us, and very obligingly furnished us with horses to proceed on our journey to mr. m'lean's of _lochbuy_, where we were to pass the night. we dined at the house of dr. alexander m'lean, another physician in mull, who was so much struck with the uncommon conversation of dr. johnson, that he observed to me, 'this man is just a _hogshead_ of sense.' dr. johnson said of the _turkish spy_[ ], which lay in the room, that it told nothing but what every body might have known at that time; and that what was good in it, did not pay you for the trouble of reading to find it. after a very tedious ride, through what appeared to me the most gloomy and desolate country i had ever beheld[ ], we arrived, between seven and eight o'clock, at may, the seat of the laird of _lochbuy_. _buy_, in erse, signifies yellow, and i at first imagined that the loch or branch of the sea here, was thus denominated, in the same manner as the _red sea_; but i afterwards learned that it derived its name from a hill above it, which being of a yellowish hue has the epithet of _buy_. we had heard much of lochbuy's being a great roaring braggadocio, a kind of sir john falstaff, both in size and manners; but we found that they had swelled him up to a fictitious size, and clothed him with imaginary qualities. col's idea of him was equally extravagant, though very different: he told us he was quite a don quixote; and said, he would give a great deal to sec him and dr. johnson together. the truth is, that lochbuy proved to be only a bluff, comely, noisy old gentleman, proud of his hereditary consequence, and a very hearty and hospitable landlord. lady lochbuy was sister to sir allan m'lean, but much older. he said to me, 'they are quite _antediluvians_.' being told that dr. johnson did not hear well, lochbuy bawled out to him, 'are you of the johnstons of glencro, or of ardnamurchan[ ]?' dr. johnson gave him a significant look, but made no answer; and i told lochbuy that he was not johns_ton_, but john_son_, and that he was an englishman[ ]. lochbuy some years ago tried to prove himself a weak man, liable to imposition, or, as we term it in scotland, a _facile_ man, in order to set aside a lease which he had granted; but failed in the attempt. on my mentioning this circumstance to dr. johnson, he seemed much surprized that such a suit was admitted by the scottish law, and observed, that 'in england no man is allowed to _stultify_ himself[ ].' sir allan, lochbuy, and i, had the conversation chiefly to ourselves to-night: dr. johnson, being extremely weary, went to bed soon after supper. friday, october . before dr. johnson came to breakfast, lady lochbuy said, 'he was a _dungeon_ of wit;' a very common phrase in scotland to express a profoundness of intellect, though he afterwards told me, that he never had heard it. she proposed that he should have some cold sheep's-head for breakfast. sir allan seemed displeased at his sister's vulgarity, and wondered how such a thought should come into her head. from a mischievous love of sport, i took the lady's part; and very gravely said, 'i think it is but fair to give him an offer of it. if he does not choose it, he may let it alone.' 'i think so,' said the lady, looking at her brother with an air of victory. sir allan, finding the matter desperate, strutted about the room, and took snuff. when dr. johnson came in, she called to him, 'do you choose any cold sheep's-head, sir?' 'no, madam,' said he, with a tone of surprise and anger[ ]. 'it is here, sir,' said she, supposing he had refused it to save the trouble of bringing it in. they thus went on at cross purposes, till he confirmed his refusal in a manner not to be misunderstood; while i sat quietly by, and enjoyed my success. after breakfast, we surveyed the old castle, in the pit or dungeon of which lochbuy had some years before taken upon him to imprison several persons[ ]; and though he had been fined in a considerable sum by the court of justiciary, he was so little affected by it, that while we were examining the dungeon, he said to me, with a smile, 'your father knows something of this;' (alluding to my father's having sat as one of the judges on his trial.) sir allan whispered me, that the laird could not be persuaded that he had lost his heritable jurisdiction[ ]. we then set out for the ferry, by which we were to cross to the main land of argyleshire. lochbuy and sir allan accompanied us. we were told much of a war-saddle, on which this reputed don quixote used to be mounted; but we did not see it, for the young laird had applied it to a less noble purpose, having taken it to falkirk fair _with a drove of black cattle._ we bade adieu to lochbuy, and to our very kind conductor[ ], sir allan m'lean, on the shore of mull, and then got into the ferry-boat, the bottom of which was strewed with branches of trees or bushes, upon which we sat. we had a good day and a fine passage, and in the evening landed at oban, where we found a tolerable inn. after having been so long confined at different times in islands, from which it was always uncertain when we could get away, it was comfortable to be now on the mainland, and to know that, if in health, we might get to any place in scotland or england in a certain number of days. here we discovered from the conjectures which were formed, that the people on the main land were entirely ignorant of our motions; for in a glasgow newspaper we found a paragraph, which, as it contains a just and well-turned compliment to my illustrious friend, i shall here insert:-- 'we are well assured that dr. johnson is confined by tempestuous weather to the isle of sky; it being unsafe to venture, in a small boat, upon such a stormy surge as is very common there at this time of the year. such a philosopher, detained on an almost barren island, resembles a whale left upon the strand. the latter will be welcome to every body, on account of his oil, his bone, &c., and the other will charm his companions, and the rude inhabitants, with his superior knowledge and wisdom, calm resignation, and unbounded benevolence.' saturday, october . after a good night's rest, we breakfasted at our leisure. we talked of goldsmith's _traveller_, of which dr. johnson spoke highly; and, while i was helping him on with his great coat, he repeated from it the character of the british nation, which he did with such energy, that the tear started into his eye:-- 'stern o'er each bosom reason holds her state, with daring aims irregularly great, pride in their port, defiance in their eye, i see the lords of human kind pass by, intent on high designs, a thoughtful band, by forms unfashion'd, fresh from nature's hand; fierce in their native hardiness of soul, true to imagin'd right, above control, while ev'n the peasant boasts these rights to scan, and learns to venerate himself as man.' we could get but one bridle here, which, according to the maxim _detur digniori_, was appropriated to dr. johnson's sheltie. i and joseph rode with halters. we crossed in a ferry-boat a pretty wide lake[ ], and on the farther side of it, close by the shore, found a hut for our inn. we were much wet. i changed my clothes in part, and was at pains to get myself well dried. dr. johnson resolutely kept on all his clothes, wet as they were, letting them steam before the smoky turf fire. i thought him in the wrong; but his firmness was, perhaps, a species of heroism. i remember but little of our conversation. i mentioned shenstone's saying of pope, that he had the art of condensing sense more than any body[ ]. dr. johnson said, 'it is not true, sir. there is more sense in a line of cowley than in a page (or a sentence, or ten lines,--i am not quite certain of the very phrase) of pope.' he maintained that archibald, duke of argyle[ ], was a narrow man. i wondered at this; and observed, that his building so great a house at inverary was not like a narrow man. 'sir, (said he,) when a narrow man has resolved to build a house, he builds it like another man. but archibald, duke of argyle, was narrow in his ordinary expences, in his quotidian expences.' the distinction is very just. it is in the ordinary expences of life that a man's liberality or narrowness is to be discovered. i never heard the word _quotidian_ in this sense, and i imagined it to be a word of dr. johnson's own fabrication; but i have since found it in _young's night thoughts_, (night fifth,) 'death's a destroyer of quotidian prey,' and in my friend's _dictionary_, supported by the authorities of charles i. and dr. donne. it rained very hard as we journied on after dinner. the roar of torrents from the mountains, as we passed along in the dusk, and the other circumstances attending our ride in the evening, have been mentioned with so much animation by dr. johnson, that i shall not attempt to say any thing on the subject[ ]. we got at night to inverary, where we found an excellent inn. even here, dr. johnson would not change his wet clothes. the prospect of good accommodation cheered us much. we supped well; and after supper, dr. johnson, whom i had not seen taste any fermented liquor during all our travels, called for a gill of whiskey. 'come, (said he,) let me know what it is that makes a scotchman happy[ ]!' he drank it all but a drop, which i begged leave to pour into my glass, that i might say we had drunk whisky together. i proposed mrs. thrale should be our toast. he would not have _her_ drunk in whisky, but rather 'some insular lady;' so we drank one of the ladies whom we had lately left. he owned to-night, that he got as good a room and bed as at an english inn. i had here the pleasure of finding a letter from home, which relieved me from the anxiety i had suffered, in consequence of not having received any account of my family for many weeks. i also found a letter from mr. garrick, which was a regale[ ] as agreeable as a pine-apple would be in a desert[ ]. he had favoured me with his correspondence for many years; and when dr. johnson and i were at inverness, i had written to him as follows:-- inverness, sunday, august, . my dear sir, 'here i am, and mr. samuel johnson actually with me. we were a night at fores, in coming to which, in the dusk of the evening, we passed over the bleak and blasted heath where macbeth met the witches[ ]. your old preceptor[ ] repeated, with much solemnity, the speech-- "how far is't called to fores? what are these, so wither'd and so wild in their attire," &c. this day we visited the ruins of macbeth's castle at inverness. i have had great romantick satisfaction in seeing johnson upon the classical scenes of shakspeare in scotland; which i really looked upon as almost as improbable as that "birnam wood should come to dunsinane[ ]." indeed, as i have always been accustomed to view him as a permanent london object, it would not be much more wonderful to me to see st. paul's church moving along where we now are. as yet we have travelled in post-chaises; but to-morrow we are to mount on horseback, and ascend into the mountains by fort augustus, and so on to the ferry, where we are to cross to sky. we shall see that island fully, and then visit some more of the hebrides; after which we are to land in argyleshire, proceed by glasgow to auchinleck, repose there a competent time, and then return to edinburgh, from whence the rambler will depart for old england again, as soon as he finds it convenient. hitherto we have had a very prosperous expedition. i flatter myself, _servetur ad imum, qualis ab incepto processerit_[ ]. he is in excellent spirits, and i have a rich journal of his conversation. look back, davy[ ], to litchfield,--run up through the time that has elapsed since you first knew mr. johnson,--and enjoy with me his present extraordinary tour. i could not resist the impulse of writing to you from this place. the situation of the old castle corresponds exactly to shakspeare's description. while we were there to-day[ ], it happened oddly, that a raven perched upon one of the chimney-tops, and croaked. then i in my turn repeated-- "the raven himself is hoarse, that croaks the fatal entrance of duncan, under my battlements." 'i wish you had been with us. think what enthusiastick happiness i shall have to see mr. samuel johnson walking among the romantick rocks and woods of my ancestors at auchinleck[ ]! write to me at edinburgh. you owe me his verses on great george and tuneful cibber, and the bad verses which led him to make his fine ones on philips the musician[ ]. keep your promise, and let me have them. i offer my very best compliments to mrs. garrick, and ever am, 'your warm admirer and friend, 'james boswell.' '_to david garrick, esq., london._' his answer was as follows:-- 'hampton, september , . 'dear sir, 'you stole away from london, and left us all in the lurch; for we expected you one night at the club, and knew nothing of your departure. had i payed you what i owed you, for the book you bought for me, i should only have grieved for the loss of your company, and slept with a quiet conscience; but, wounded as it is, it must remain so till i see you again, though i am sure our good friend mr. johnson will discharge the debt for me, if you will let him. your account of your journey to _fores_, the _raven_, _old castle_, &c., &c., made me half mad. are you not rather too late in the year for fine weather, which is the life and soul of seeing places? i hope your pleasure will continue _qualis ab incepto_, &c. 'your friend[ ] ------ threatens me much. i only wish that he would put his threats in execution, and, if he prints his play, i will forgive him. i remember he complained to you, that his bookseller called for the money for some copies of his ------, which i subscribed for, and that i desired him to call again. the truth is, that my wife was not at home[ ], and that for weeks together i have not ten shillings in my pocket.--however, had it been otherwise, it was not so great a crime to draw his poetical vengeance upon me. i despise all that he can do, and am glad that i can so easily get rid of him and his ingratitude. i am hardened both to abuse and ingratitude. 'you, i am sure, will no more recommend your poetasters to my civility and good offices. 'shall i recommend to you a play of eschylus, (the prometheus,) published and translated by poor old morell, who is a good scholar[ ], and an acquaintance of mine? it will be but half a guinea, and your name shall be put in the list i am making for him. you will be in very good company. 'now for the epitaphs! [_these, together with the verses on george the second, and colley cibber, as his poet laureat, of which imperfect copies are gone about, will appear in my life of dr. johnson[ ]._] 'i have no more paper, or i should have said more to you. my love[ ] and respects to mr. johnson. 'yours ever, 'd. garrick.' 'i can't write. i have the gout in my hand.' '_to james boswell, esq., edinburgh._' sunday, october . we passed the forenoon calmly and placidly. i prevailed on dr. johnson to read aloud ogden's sixth sermon on prayer, which he did with a distinct expression, and pleasing solemnity. he praised my favourite preacher, his elegant language, and remarkable acuteness; and said, he fought infidels with their own weapons. as a specimen of ogden's manner, i insert the following passage from the sermon which dr. johnson now read. the preacher, after arguing against that vain philosophy which maintains, in conformity with the hard principle of eternal necessity, or unchangeable predetermination, that the only effect of prayer for others, although we are exhorted to pray for them, is to produce good dispositions in ourselves towards them; thus expresses himself:-- 'a plain man may be apt to ask, but if this then, though enjoined in the holy scriptures, is to be my real aim and intention, when i am taught to pray for other persons, why is it that i do not plainly so express it? why is not the form of the petition brought nearer to the meaning? give them, say i to our heavenly father, what is good. but this, i am to understand, will be as it will be, and is not for me to alter. what is it then that i am doing? i am desiring to become charitable myself; and why may i not plainly say so? is there shame in it, or impiety? the wish is laudable: why should i form designs to hide it? 'or is it, perhaps, better to be brought about by indirect means, and in this artful manner? alas! who is it that i would impose on? from whom can it be, in this commerce, that i desire to hide any thing? when, as my saviour commands me, i have _entered into my closet, and shut my door_, there are but two parties privy to my devotions, god and my own heart; which of the two am i deceiving?' he wished to have more books, and, upon inquiring if there were any in the house, was told that a waiter had some, which were brought to him; but i recollect none of them, except hervey's _meditations_. he thought slightingly of this admired book. he treated it with ridicule, and would not allow even the scene of the dying husband and father to be pathetick[ ]. i am not an impartial judge; for hervey's _meditations_ engaged my affections in my early years. he read a passage concerning the moon, ludicrously, and shewed how easily he could, in the same style, make reflections on that planet, the very reverse of hervey's[ ], representing her as treacherous to mankind. he did this with much humour; but i have not preserved the particulars. he then indulged a playful fancy, in making a _meditation on a pudding_[ ], of which i hastily wrote down, in his presence, the following note; which, though imperfect, may serve to give my readers some idea of it. meditation on a pudding. 'let us seriously reflect of what a pudding is composed. it is composed of flour that once waved in the golden grain, and drank the dews of the morning; of milk pressed from the swelling udder by the gentle hand of the beauteous milk-maid, whose beauty and innocence might have recommended a worse draught; who, while she stroked the udder, indulged no ambitious thoughts of wandering in palaces, formed no plans for the destruction of her fellow-creatures: milk, which is drawn from the cow, that useful animal, that eats the grass of the field, and supplies us with that which made the greatest part of the food of mankind in the age which the poets have agreed to call golden. it is made with an egg, that miracle of nature, which the theoretical burnet[ ] has compared to creation. an egg contains water within its beautiful smooth surface; and an unformed mass, by the incubation of the parent, becomes a regular animal, furnished with bones and sinews, and covered with feathers. let us consider; can there be more wanting to complete the meditation on a pudding? if more is wanting, more may be found. it contains salt, which keeps the sea from putrefaction: salt, which is made the image of intellectual excellence, contributes to the formation of a pudding.' in a magazine i found a saying of dr. johnson's, something to this purpose; that the happiest part of a man's life is what he passes lying awake in bed in the morning. i read it to him. he said, 'i may, perhaps, have said this; for nobody, at times, talks more laxly than i do[ ].' i ventured to suggest to him, that this was dangerous from one of his authority. i spoke of living in the country, and upon what footing one should be with neighbours. i observed that some people were afraid of being on too easy a footing with them, from an apprehension that their time would not be their own. he made the obvious remark, that it depended much on what kind of neighbours one has, whether it was desirable to be on an easy footing with them, or not. i mentioned a certain baronet, who told me, he never was happy in the country, till he was not on speaking terms with his neighbours, which he contrived in different ways to bring about. 'lord ----------(said he) stuck long; but at last the fellow pounded my pigs, and then i got rid of him.' johnson. 'nay, sir, my lord got rid of sir john, and shewed how little he valued him, by putting his pigs in the pound.' i told dr. johnson i was in some difficulty how to act at inverary. i had reason to think that the duchess of argyle disliked me, on account of my zeal in the douglas cause[ ]; but the duke of argyle had always been pleased to treat me with great civility. they were now at the castle, which is a very short walk from our inn; and the question was, whether i should go and pay my respects there. dr. johnson, to whom i had stated the case, was clear that i ought; but, in his usual way, he was very shy of discovering a desire to be invited there himself. though from a conviction of the benefit of subordination[ ] to society, he has always shewn great respect to persons of high rank, when he happened to be in their company, yet his pride of character has ever made him guard against any appearance of courting the great. besides, he was impatient to go to glasgow, where he expected letters. at the same time he was, i believe, secretly not unwilling to have attention paid him by so great a chieftain, and so exalted a nobleman. he insisted that i should not go to the castle this day before dinner, as it would look like seeking an invitation. 'but, (said i,) if the duke invites us to dine with him to-morrow, shall we accept?' 'yes, sir;' i think he said, 'to be sure.' but, he added, 'he won't ask us!' i mentioned, that i was afraid my company might be disagreeable to the duchess. he treated this objection with a manly disdain: '_that_, sir, he must settle with his wife.' we dined well. i went to the castle just about the time when i supposed the ladies would be retired from dinner. i sent in my name; and, being shewn in, found the amiable duke sitting at the head of his table with several gentlemen. i was most politely received, and gave his grace some particulars of the curious journey which i had been making with dr. johnson. when we rose from table, the duke said to me, 'i hope you and dr. johnson will dine with us to-morrow.' i thanked his grace; but told him, my friend was in a great hurry to get back to london. the duke, with a kind complacency, said, 'he will stay one day; and i will take care he shall see this place to advantage.' i said, i should be sure to let him know his grace's invitation. as i was going away, the duke said, 'mr. boswell, won't you have some tea ?' i thought it best to get over the meeting with the duchess this night; so respectfully agreed. i was conducted to the drawing room by the duke, who announced my name; but the duchess, who was sitting with her daughter, lady betty hamilton[ ], and some other ladies, took not the least notice of me. i should have been mortified at being thus coldly received by a lady of whom i, with the rest of the world, have always entertained a very high admiration, had i not been consoled by the obliging attention of the duke. when i returned to the inn, i informed dr. johnson of the duke of argyle's invitation, with which he was much pleased, and readily accepted of it. we talked of a violent contest which was then carrying on, with a view to the next general election for ayrshire; where one of the candidates, in order to undermine the old and established interest, had artfully held himself out as a champion for the independency of the county against aristocratick influence, and had persuaded several gentlemen into a resolution to oppose every candidate who was supported by peers[ ]. 'foolish fellows! (said dr. johnson), don't they see that they are as much dependent upon the peers one way as the other. the peers have but to _oppose_ a candidate to ensure him success. it is said the only way to make a pig go forward, is to pull him back by the tail. these people must be treated like pigs.' monday, october . my acquaintance, the reverend mr. john m'aulay[ ], one of the ministers of inverary, and brother to our good friend at calder[ ], came to us this morning, and accompanied us to the castle, where i presented dr. johnson to the duke of argyle. we were shewn through the house; and i never shall forget the impression made upon my fancy by some of the ladies' maids tripping about in neat morning dresses. after seeing for a long time little but rusticity, their lively manner, and gay inviting appearance, pleased me so much, that i thought, for the moment, i could have been a knight-errant for them[ ]. we then got into a low one-horse chair, ordered for us by the duke, in which we drove about the place. dr. johnson was much struck by the grandeur and elegance of this princely seat. he thought, however, the castle too low, and wished it had been a story higher. he said, 'what i admire here, is the total defiance of expence.' i had a particular pride in shewing him a great number of fine old trees, to compensate for the nakedness which had made such an impression on him on the eastern coast of scotland. when we came in, before dinner, we found the duke and some gentlemen in the hall. dr. johnson took much notice of the large collection of arms, which are excellently disposed there. i told what he had said to sir alexander m'donald, of his ancestors not suffering their arms to rust[ ]. 'well, (said the doctor,) but let us be glad we live in times when arms _may_ rust. we can sit to-day at his grace's table, without any risk of being attacked, and perhaps sitting down again wounded or maimed.' the duke placed dr. johnson next himself at table. i was in fine spirits; and though sensible that i had the misfortune of not being in favour with the duchess, i was not in the least disconcerted, and offered her grace some of the dish that was before me. it must be owned that i was in the right to be quite unconcerned, if i could. i was the duke of argyle's guest; and i had no reason to suppose that he adopted the prejudices and resentments of the duchess of hamilton. i knew it was the rule of modern high life not to drink to any body; but that i might have the satisfaction for once to look the duchess in the face, with a glass in my hand, i with a respectful air addressed her,--'my lady duchess, i have the honour to drink your grace's good health.' i repeated the words audibly, and with a steady countenance. this was, perhaps, rather too much; but some allowance must be made for human feelings. the duchess was very attentive to dr. johnson. i know not how a _middle state[ ]_ came to be mentioned. her grace wished to hear him on that point. 'madam, (said he,) your own relation, mr. archibald campbell, can tell you better about it than i can. he was a bishop of the nonjuring communion, and wrote a book upon the subject[ ].' he engaged to get it for her grace. he afterwards gave a full history of mr. archibald campbell, which i am sorry i do not recollect particularly. he said, mr. campbell had been bred a violent whig, but afterwards 'kept better company, and became a tory.' he said this with a smile, in pleasant allusion, as i thought, to the opposition between his own political principles and those of the duke's clan. he added that mr. campbell, after the revolution, was thrown into gaol on account of his tenets; but, on application by letter to the old lord townshend[ ], was released; that he always spoke of his lordship with great gratitude, saying, 'though a _whig_, he had humanity.' dr. johnson and i passed some time together, in june [ ], at pembroke college, oxford, with the reverend dr. adams, the master; and i having expressed a regret that my note relative to mr. archibald campbell was imperfect, he was then so good as to write with his own hand, on the blank page of my _journal_, opposite to that which contains what i have now mentioned, the following paragraph; which, however, is not quite so full as the narrative he gave at inverary:-- '_the honourable_ archibald campbell _was, i believe, the nephew[ ] of the marquis of argyle. he began life by engaging in monmouth's rebellion, and, to escape the law, lived some time in surinam. when he returned, he became zealous for episcopacy and monarchy; and at the revolution adhered not only to the nonjurors, but to those who refused to communicate with the church of england, or to be present at any worship where the usurper was mentioned as king. he was, i believe, more than once apprehended in the reign of king william, and once at the accession of george. he was the familiar friend of hicks[ ] and nelson[ ]; a man of letters, but injudicious; and very curious and inquisitive, but credulous. he lived[ ] in , or , about years old.'_ the subject of luxury having been introduced, dr. johnson defended it. 'we have now (said he) a splendid dinner before us; which of all these dishes is unwholesome?' the duke asserted, that he had observed the grandees of spain diminished in their size by luxury. dr. johnson politely refrained from opposing directly an observation which the duke himself had made; but said, 'man must be very different from other animals, if he is diminished by good living; for the size of all other animals is increased by it[ ].' i made some remark that seemed to imply a belief in _second sight_. the duchess said, 'i fancy you will be a _methodist_.' this was the only sentence her grace deigned to utter to me; and i take it for granted, she thought it a good hit on my _credulity_ in the douglas cause. a gentleman in company, after dinner, was desired by the duke to go to another room, for a specimen of curious marble, which his grace wished to shew us. he brought a wrong piece, upon which the duke sent him back again. he could not refuse; but, to avoid any appearance of servility, he whistled as he walked out of the room, to shew his independency. on my mentioning this afterwards to dr. johnson, he said, it was a nice trait of character. dr. johnson talked a great deal, and was so entertaining, that lady betty hamilton, after dinner, went and placed her chair close to his, leaned upon the back of it, and listened eagerly. it would have made a fine picture to have drawn the sage and her at this time in their several attitudes. he did not know, all the while, how much he was honoured. i told him afterwards. i never saw him so gentle and complaisant as this day. we went to tea. the duke and i walked up and down the drawing-room, conversing. the duchess still continued to shew the same marked coldness for me; for which, though i suffered from it, i made every allowance, considering the very warm part that i had taken for douglas, in the cause in which she thought her son deeply interested. had not her grace discovered some displeasure towards me, i should have suspected her of insensibility or dissimulation. her grace made dr. johnson come and sit by her, and asked him why he made his journey so late in the year. 'why, madam, (said he,) you know mr. boswell must attend the court of session, and it does not rise till the twelfth of august.' she said, with some sharpness, 'i _know nothing_ of mr. boswell.' poor lady lucy douglas[ ], to whom i mentioned this, observed, 'she knew _too much_ of mr. boswell.' i shall make no remark on her grace's speech. i indeed felt it as rather too severe; but when i recollected that my punishment was inflicted by so dignified a beauty, i had that kind of consolation which a man would feel who is strangled by a _silken cord_. dr. johnson was all attention to her grace. he used afterwards a droll expression, upon her enjoying the three titles of hamilton, brandon, and argyle[ ]. borrowing an image from the turkish empire, he called her a _duchess_ with _three tails_. he was much pleased with our visit at the castle of inverary. the duke of argyle was exceedingly polite to him, and upon his complaining of the shelties which he had hitherto ridden being too small for him, his grace told him he should be provided with a good horse to carry him next day. mr. john m'aulay passed the evening with us at our inn. when dr. johnson spoke of people whose principles were good, but whose practice was faulty, mr. m'aulay said, he had no notion of people being in earnest in their good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them. the doctor grew warm, and said, 'sir, you are so grossly ignorant of human nature, as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good principles, without having good practice[ ]!' dr. johnson was unquestionably in the right; and whoever examines himself candidly, will be satisfied of it, though the inconsistency between principles and practice is greater in some men than in others. i recollect very little of this night's conversation. i am sorry that indolence came upon me towards the conclusion of our journey, so that i did not write down what passed with the same assiduity as during the greatest part of it. tuesday, october . mr. m'aulay breakfasted with us, nothing hurt or dismayed by his last night's correction. being a man of good sense, he had a just admiration of dr. johnson. either yesterday morning, or this, i communicated to dr. johnson, from mr. m'aulay's information, the news that dr. beattie had got a pension of two hundred pounds a year[ ]. he sat up in his bed, clapped his hands, and cried, 'o brave we[ ]!'--a peculiar exclamation of his when he rejoices[ ]. as we sat over our tea, mr. home's tragedy of _douglas_ was mentioned. i put dr. johnson in mind, that once, in a coffee house at oxford, he called to old mr. sheridan, 'how came you, sir, to give home a gold medal for writing that foolish play?' and defied mr. sheridan to shew ten good lines in it. he did not insist they should be together; but that there were not ten good lines in the whole play[ ]. he now persisted in this. i endeavoured to defend that pathetick and beautiful tragedy, and repeated the following passage:-- --'sincerity, thou first of virtues! let no mortal leave thy onward path, although the earth should gape, and from the gulph of hell destruction cry, to take dissimulation's winding way[ ].' johnson. 'that will not do, sir. nothing is good but what is consistent with truth or probability, which this is not. juvenal, indeed, gives us a noble picture of inflexible virtue:-- "esto bonus miles, tutor bonus, arbiter idem integer: ambiguae si quando citabere testis, incertaeque rei, phalaris licet imperet ut sis, falsus, et admoto dictet perjuria tauro, summum crede nefas animam praeferre pudori, et propter vitam vivendi perdere causas[ ]."' he repeated the lines with great force and dignity; then added, 'and, after this, comes johnny home, with his _earth gaping_, and his _destruction crying_:--pooh[ ]!' while we were lamenting the number of ruined religious buildings which we had lately seen, i spoke with peculiar feeling of the miserable neglect of the chapel belonging to the palace of holyrood-house, in which are deposited the remains of many of the kings of scotland, and many of our nobility. i said, it was a disgrace to the country that it was not repaired: and particularly complained that my friend douglas, the representative of a great house and proprietor of a vast estate, should suffer the sacred spot where his mother lies interred, to be unroofed, and exposed to all the inclemencies of the weather. dr. johnson, who, i know not how, had formed an opinion on the hamilton side, in the douglas cause, slily answered, 'sir, sir, don't be too severe upon the gentleman; don't accuse him of want of filial piety! lady jane douglas was not _his_ mother.' he roused my zeal so much that i took the liberty to tell him he knew nothing of the cause: which i do most seriously believe was the case[ ]. we were now 'in a country of bridles and saddles[ ],' and set out fully equipped. the duke of argyle was obliging enough to mount dr. johnson on a stately steed from his grace's stable. my friend was highly pleased, and joseph said, 'he now looks like a bishop.' we dined at the inn at tarbat, and at night came to rosedow, the beautiful seat of sir james colquhoun, on the banks of lochlomond, where i, and any friends whom i have introduced, have ever been received with kind and elegant hospitality. wednesday, october . when i went into dr. johnson's room this morning, i observed to him how wonderfully courteous he had been at inveraray, and said, 'you were quite a fine gentleman, when with the duchess.' he answered, in good humour, 'sir, i look upon myself as a very polite man:' and he was right, in a proper manly sense of the word[ ]. as an immediate proof of it, let me observe, that he would not send back the duke of argyle's horse without a letter of thanks, which i copied. 'to his grace the duke of argyle. 'my lord, 'that kindness which disposed your grace to supply me with the horse, which i have now returned, will make you pleased to hear that he has carried me well. 'by my diligence in the little commission with which i was honoured by the duchess[ ], i will endeavour to shew how highly i value the favours which i have received, and how much i desire to be thought, 'my lord, 'your grace's most obedient, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'rosedow, oct. , .' the duke was so attentive to his respectable[ ] guest, that on the same day, he wrote him an answer, which was received at auchinleck:-- 'to dr. johnson, auchinleck, ayrshire. 'sir, 'i am glad to hear your journey from this place was not unpleasant, in regard to your horse. i wish i could have supplied you with good weather, which i am afraid you felt the want of. 'the duchess of argyle desires her compliments to you, and is much obliged to you for remembering her commission. 'i am, sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'argyle.' 'inveraray, oct. , .' i am happy to insert every memorial of the honour done to my great friend. indeed, i was at all times desirous to preserve the letters which he received from eminent persons, of which, as of all other papers, he was very negligent; and i once proposed to him, that they should be committed to my care, as his _custos rotulorum_. i wish he had complied with my request, as by that means many valuable writings might have been preserved, that are now lost[ ]. after breakfast, dr. johnson and i were furnished with a boat, and sailed about upon lochlomond, and landed on some of the islands which are interspersed[ ]. he was much pleased with the scene, which is so well known by the accounts of various travellers, that it is unnecessary for me to attempt any description of it. i recollect none of his conversation, except that, when talking of dress, he said, 'sir, were i to have any thing fine, it should be very fine. were i to wear a ring, it should not be a bauble, but a stone of great value. were i to wear a laced or embroidered waistcoat, it should be very rich. i had once a very rich laced waistcoat, which i wore the first night of my tragedy[ ].' lady helen colquhoun being a very pious woman, the conversation, after dinner, took a religious turn. her ladyship defended the presbyterian mode of publick worship; upon which dr. johnson delivered those excellent arguments for a form of prayer which he has introduced into his _journey_[ ]. i am myself fully convinced that a form of prayer for publick worship is in general most decent and edifying. _solennia verba_ have a kind of prescriptive sanctity, and make a deeper impression on the mind than extemporaneous effusions, in which, as we know not what they are to be, we cannot readily acquiesce. yet i would allow also of a certain portion of extempore address, as occasion may require. this is the practice of the french protestant churches. and although the office of forming supplications to the throne of heaven is, in my mind, too great a trust to be indiscriminately committed to the discretion of every minister, i do not mean to deny that sincere devotion may be experienced when joining in prayer with those who use no liturgy. we were favoured with sir james colquhoun's coach to convey us in the evening to cameron, the seat of commissary smollet[ ]. our satisfaction of finding ourselves again in a comfortable carriage was very great. we had a pleasing conviction of the commodiousness of civilization, and heartily laughed at the ravings of those absurd visionaries who have attempted to persuade us of the superior advantages of a _state of nature_[ ]. mr. smollet was a man of considerable learning, with abundance of animal spirits; so that he was a very good companion for dr. johnson, who said to me, 'we have had more solid talk here than at any place where we have been.' i remember dr. johnson gave us this evening an able and eloquent discourse on the _origin of evil_[ ], and on the consistency of moral evil with the power and goodness of god. he shewed us how it arose from our free agency, an extinction of which would be a still greater evil than any we experience. i know not that he said any thing absolutely new, but he said a great deal wonderfully well; and perceiving us to be delighted and satisfied, he concluded his harangue with an air of benevolent triumph over an objection which has distressed many worthy minds: 'this then is the answer to the question, _pothen to kakon_?' mrs. smollet whispered me, that it was the best sermon she had ever heard. much do i upbraid myself for having neglected to preserve it. thursday, october . mr. smollet pleased dr. johnson, by producing a collection of newspapers in the time of the usurpation, from which it appeared that all sorts of crimes were very frequent during that horrible anarchy. by the side of the high road to glasgow, at some distance from his house, he had erected a pillar to the memory of his ingenious kinsman, dr. smollet; and he consulted dr. johnson as to an inscription for it. lord kames, who, though he had a great store of knowledge, with much ingenuity, and uncommon activity of mind, was no profound scholar, had it seems recommended an english inscription[ ]. dr. johnson treated this with great contempt, saying, 'an english inscription would be a disgrace to dr. smollet[ ];' and, in answer to what lord kames had urged, as to the advantage of its being in english, because it would be generally understood, i observed, that all to whom dr. smollet's merit could be an object of respect and imitation, would understand it as well in latin; and that surely it was not meant for the highland drovers, or other such people, who pass and repass that way. we were then shewn a latin inscription, proposed for this monument. dr. johnson sat down with an ardent and liberal earnestness to revise it, and greatly improved it by several additions and variations. i unfortunately did not take a copy of it, as it originally stood; but i have happily preserved every fragment of what dr. johnson wrote:-- quisquis ades, viator[ ], vel mente felix, vel studiis cultus, immorare paululum memoriae tobiae smollet, m.d. viri iis virtutibus quas in homine et cive et laudes, et imiteris, postquam mira-- se ---- tali tantoque viro, suo patrueli, hanc columnam, amoris eheu! inane monumentum, in ipsis leviniae ripis, quas primis infans vagitibus personuit, versiculisque jam fere moriturus illustravit[ ], ponendam curavit[ ]. we had this morning a singular proof of dr. johnson's quick and retentive memory. hay's translation of _martial_ was lying in a window. i said, i thought it was pretty well done, and shewed him a particular epigram, i think, of ten, but am certain of eight, lines. he read it, and tossed away the book, saying--'no, it is not pretty well.' as i persisted in my opinion, he said, 'why, sir, the original is thus,'--(and he repeated it;) 'and this man's translation is thus,'--and then he repeated that also, exactly, though he had never seen it before, and read it over only once, and that too, without any intention of getting it by heart[ ]. here a post-chaise, which i had ordered from glasgow, came for us, and we drove on in high spirits. we stopped at dunbarton, and though the approach to the castle there is very steep, dr. johnson ascended it with alacrity, and surveyed all that was to be seen. during the whole of our tour he shewed uncommon spirit, could not bear to be treated like an old or infirm man, and was very unwilling to accept of any assistance, insomuch that, at our landing at icolmkill, when sir allan m'lean and i submitted to be carried on men's shoulders from the boat to the shore, as it could not be brought quite close to land, he sprang into the sea, and waded vigorously out. on our arrival at the saracen's head inn, at glasgow, i was made happy by good accounts from home; and dr. johnson, who had not received a single letter since we left aberdeen[ ], found here a great many, the perusal of which entertained him much. he enjoyed in imagination the comforts which we could now command, and seemed to be in high glee. i remember, he put a leg up on each side of the grate, and said, with a mock solemnity, by way of soliloquy, but loud enough for me to hear it, 'here am i, an english man, sitting by a _coal_ fire.' friday, october . the professors[ ] of the university being informed of our arrival, dr. stevenson, dr. reid[ ], and mr. anderson breakfasted with us. mr. anderson accompanied us while dr. johnson viewed this beautiful city. he had told me, that one day in london, when dr. adam smith was boasting of it, he turned to him and said, 'pray, sir, have you ever seen brentford[ ]?' this was surely a strong instance of his impatience, and spirit of contradiction. i put him in mind of it to-day, while he expressed his admiration of the elegant buildings, and whispered him, 'don't you feel some remorse[ ]?' we were received in the college by a number of the professors, who shewed all due respect to dr. johnson; and then we paid a visit to the principal, dr. leechman[ ], at his own house, where dr. johnson had the satisfaction of being told that his name had been gratefully celebrated in one of the parochial congregations in the highlands, as the person to whose influence it was chiefly owing that the new testament was allowed to be translated into the erse language. it seems some political members of the society in scotland for propagating christian knowledge had opposed this pious undertaking, as tending to preserve the distinction between the highlanders and lowlanders. dr. johnson wrote a long letter upon the subject to a friend, which being shewn to them, made them ashamed, and afraid of being publickly exposed; so they were forced to a compliance. it is now in my possession, and is, perhaps, one of the best productions of his masterly pen[ ]. professors reid and anderson, and the two messieurs foulis, the elzevirs of glasgow, dined and drank tea with us at our inn, after which the professors went away; and i, having a letter to write, left my fellow-traveller with messieurs foulis. though good and ingenious men, they had that unsettled speculative mode of conversation which is offensive to a man regularly taught at an english school and university. i found that, instead of listening to the dictates of the sage, they had teazed him with questions and doubtful disputations. he came in a flutter to me, and desired i might come back again, for he could not bear these men. 'o ho! sir, (said i,) you are flying to me for refuge!' he never, in any situation, was at a loss for a ready repartee. he answered, with a quick vivacity, 'it is of two evils choosing the least.' i was delighted with this flash bursting from the cloud which hung upon his mind, closed my letter directly, and joined the company. we supped at professor anderson's. the general impression upon my memory is, that we had not much conversation at glasgow, where the professors, like their brethren at aberdeen[ ], did not venture to expose themselves much to the battery of cannon which they knew might play upon them[ ]. dr. johnson, who was fully conscious of his own superior powers, afterwards praised principal robertson for his caution in this respect[ ]. he said to me, 'robertson, sir, was in the right. robertson is a man of eminence, and the head of a college at edinburgh. he had a character to maintain, and did well not to risk its being lessened.' saturday, october . we set out towards ayrshire. i sent joseph on to loudoun, with a message, that, if the earl was at home, dr. johnson and i would have the honour to dine with him. joseph met us on the road, and reported that the earl '_jumped for joy,_' and said, 'i shall be very happy to see them.' we were received with a most pleasing courtesy by his lordship, and by the countess his mother, who, in her ninety-fifth year, had all her faculties quite unimpaired[ ]. this was a very cheering sight to dr. johnson, who had an extraordinary desire for long life. her ladyship was sensible and well-informed, and had seen a great deal of the world. her lord had held several high offices, and she was sister to the great earl of stair[ ]. i cannot here refrain from paying a just tribute to the character of john earl of loudoun, who did more service to the county of ayr in general, as well as to the individuals in it, than any man we have ever had. it is painful to think that he met with much ingratitude from persons both in high and low rank: but such was his temper, such his knowledge of 'base mankind[ ],' that, as if he had expected no other return, his mind was never soured, and he retained his good-humour and benevolence to the last. the tenderness of his heart was proved in - , when he had an important command in the highlands, and behaved with a generous humanity to the unfortunate. i cannot figure a more honest politician; for, though his interest in our county was great, and generally successful, he not only did not deceive by fallacious promises, but was anxious that people should not deceive themselves by too sanguine expectations. his kind and dutiful attention to his mother was unremitted. at his house was true hospitality; a plain but a plentiful table; and every guest, being left at perfect freedom, felt himself quite easy and happy. while i live, i shall honour the memory of this amiable man[ ]. at night, we advanced a few miles farther, to the house of mr. campbell of treesbank, who was married to one of my wife's sisters, and were entertained very agreeably by a worthy couple. sunday, october . we reposed here in tranquillity. dr. johnson was pleased to find a numerous and excellent collection of books, which had mostly belonged to the reverend mr. john campbell, brother of our host. i was desirous to have procured for my fellow-traveller, to-day, the company of sir john cuninghame, of caprington, whose castle was but two miles from us. he was a very distinguished scholar, was long abroad, and during part of the time lived much with the learned cuninghame[ ], the opponent of bentley as a critick upon horace. he wrote latin with great elegance, and, what is very remarkable, read homer and ariosto through every year. i wrote to him to request he would come to us; but unfortunately he was prevented by indisposition. monday, november . though dr. johnson was lazy, and averse to move, i insisted that he should go with me, and pay a visit to the countess of eglintoune, mother of the late and present earl. i assured him, he would find himself amply recompensed for the trouble; and he yielded to my solicitations, though with some unwillingness. we were well mounted, and had not many miles to ride. he talked of the attention that is necessary in order to distribute our charity judiciously. 'if thoughtlessly done, we may neglect the most deserving objects; and, as every man has but a certain proportion to give, if it is lavished upon those who first present themselves, there may be nothing left for such as have a better claim. a man should first relieve those who are nearly connected with him, by whatever tie; and then, if he has any thing to spare, may extend his bounty to a wider circle.[ ]' as we passed very near the castle of dundonald, which was one of the many residences of the kings of scotland, and in which robert the second lived and died, dr. johnson wished to survey it particularly. it stands on a beautiful rising ground, which is seen at a great distance on several quarters, and from whence there is an extensive prospect of the rich district of cuninghame, the western sea, the isle of arran, and a part of the northern coast of ireland. it has long been unroofed; and, though of considerable size, we could not, by any power of imagination, figure it as having been a suitable habitation for majesty[ ]. dr. johnson, to irritate my _old scottish_[ ] enthusiasm, was very jocular on the homely accommodation of 'king _bob_,' and roared and laughed till the ruins echoed. lady eglintoune, though she was now in her eighty-fifth year, and had lived in the retirement of the country for almost half a century, was still a very agreeable woman. she was of the noble house of kennedy, and had all the elevation which the consciousness of such birth inspires. her figure was majestick, her manners high-bred, her reading extensive, and her conversation elegant. she had been the admiration of the gay circles of life, and the patroness of poets[ ]. dr. johnson was delighted with his reception here. her principles in church and state were congenial with his. she knew all his merit, and had heard much of him from her son, earl alexander[ ], who loved to cultivate the acquaintance of men of talents, in every department. all who knew his lordship, will allow that his understanding and accomplishments were of no ordinary rate. from the gay habits which he had early acquired, he spent too much of his time with men, and in pursuits far beneath such a mind as his. he afterwards became sensible of it, and turned his thoughts to objects of importance; but was cut off in the prime of his life. i cannot speak, but with emotions of the most affectionate regret, of one, in whose company many of my early days were passed, and to whose kindness i was much indebted. often must i have occasion to upbraid myself, that soon after our return to the main land, i allowed indolence to prevail over me so much, as to shrink from the labour of continuing my journal with the same minuteness as before; sheltering myself in the thought, that we had done with the hebrides; and not considering, that dr. johnson's memorabilia were likely to be more valuable when we were restored to a more polished society. much has thus been irrecoverably lost. in the course of our conversation this day, it came out, that lady eglintoune was married the year before dr. johnson was born; upon which she graciously said to him, that she might have been his mother; and that she now adopted him; and when we were going away, she embraced him, saying, 'my dear son, farewell[ ]!' my friend was much pleased with this day's entertainment, and owned that i had done well to force him out. tuesday, november . we were now in a country not only '_of saddles and bridles_[ ],' but of post-chaises; and having ordered one from kilmarnock, we got to auchinleck[ ] before dinner. my father was not quite a year and a half older than dr. johnson; but his conscientious discharge of his laborious duty as a judge in scotland, where the law proceedings are almost all in writing,--a severe complaint which ended in his death,--and the loss of my mother, a woman of almost unexampled piety and goodness,--had before this time in some degree affected his spirits[ ], and rendered him less disposed to exert his faculties: for he had originally a very strong mind, and cheerful temper. he assured me, he never had felt one moment of what is called low spirits, or uneasiness, without a real cause. he had a great many good stories, which he told uncommonly well, and he was remarkable for 'humour, _incolumi gravitate_[ ],' as lord monboddo used to characterise it. his age, his office, and his character, had long given him an acknowledged claim to great attention, in whatever company he was; and he could ill brook any diminution of it. he was as sanguine a whig and presbyterian, as dr. johnson was a tory and church of england man: and as he had not much leisure to be informed of dr. johnson's great merits by reading his works, he had a partial and unfavourable notion of him, founded on his supposed political tenets; which were so discordant to his own, that instead of speaking of him with that respect to which he was entitled, he used to call him 'a _jacobite fellow_.' knowing all this, i should not have ventured to bring them together, had not my father, out of kindness to me, desired me to invite dr. johnson to his house. i was very anxious that all should be well; and begged of my friend to avoid three topicks, as to which they differed very widely; whiggism, presbyterianism, and--sir john pringle.[ ] he said courteously, 'i shall certainly not talk on subjects which i am told are disagreeable to a gentleman under whose roof i am; especially, i shall not do so to _your father_.' our first day went off very smoothly. it rained, and we could not get out; but my father shewed dr. johnson his library, which in curious editions of the greek and roman classicks, is, i suppose, not excelled by any private collection in great britain. my father had studied at leyden, and been very intimate with the gronovii, and other learned men there. he was a sound scholar, and, in particular, had collated manuscripts and different editions of _anacreon_, and others of the greek lyrick poets, with great care; so that my friend and he had much matter for conversation, without touching on the fatal topicks of difference. dr. johnson found here baxter's _anacreon_[ ], which he told me he had long enquired for in vain, and began to suspect there was no such book. baxter was the keen antagonist of barnes[ ]. his life is in the _biographia britannica_[ ]. my father has written many notes on this book, and dr. johnson and i talked of having it reprinted. wednesday, november . it rained all day, and gave dr. johnson an impression of that incommodiousness of climate in the west, of which he has taken notice in his _journey_[ ]; but, being well accommodated, and furnished with variety of books, he was not dissatisfied. some gentlemen of the neighbourhood came to visit my father; but there was little conversation. one of them asked dr. johnson how he liked the highlands. the question seemed to irritate him, for he answered, 'how, sir, can you ask me what obliges me to speak unfavourably of a country where i have been hospitably entertained? who _can_ like the highlands[ ]? i like the inhabitants very well[ ].' the gentleman asked no more questions. let me now make up for the present neglect, by again gleaning from the past. at lord monboddo's, after the conversation upon the decrease of learning in england, his lordship mentioned _hermes_, by mr. harris of salisbury[ ], as the work of a living authour, for whom he had a great respect. dr. johnson said nothing at the time; but when we were in our post-chaise, he told me, he thought harris 'a coxcomb.' this he said of him, not as a man, but as an authour[ ]; and i give his opinions of men and books, faithfully, whether they agree with my own or not. i do admit, that there always appeared to me something of affectation in mr. harris's manner of writing; something of a habit of clothing plain thoughts in analytick and categorical formality. but all his writings are imbued with learning; and all breathe that philanthropy and amiable disposition, which distinguished him as a man[ ]. at another time, during our tour, he drew the character of a rapacious highland chief[ ] with the strength of theophrastus or la bruyère; concluding with these words:--'sir, he has no more the soul of a chief, than an attorney who has twenty houses in a street, and considers how much he can make by them.' he this day, when we were by ourselves, observed, how common it was for people to talk from books; to retail the sentiment's of others, and not their own; in short, to converse without any originality of thinking. he was pleased to say, 'you and i do not talk from books[ ].' thursday, november . i was glad to have at length a very fine day, on which i could shew dr. johnson the _place_ of my family, which he has honoured with so much attention in his _journey_. he is, however, mistaken in thinking that the celtick name, _auchinleck_, has no relation to the natural appearance of it. i believe every celtick name of a place will be found very descriptive. _auchinleck_ does not signify a _stony field_, as he has said, but a _field of flag stones_; and this place has a number of rocks, which abound in strata of that kind. the 'sullen dignity of the old castle,' as he has forcibly expressed it, delighted him exceedingly.[ ] on one side of the rock on which its ruins stand, runs the river lugar, which is here of considerable breadth, and is bordered by other high rocks, shaded with wood. on the other side runs a brook, skirted in the same manner, but on a smaller scale. i cannot figure a more romantick scene. i felt myself elated here, and expatiated to my illustrious mentor on the antiquity and honourable alliances of my family, and on the merits of its founder, thomas boswell, who was highly favoured by his sovereign, james iv. of scotland, and fell with him at the battle of flodden-field[ ]; and in the glow of what, i am sensible, will, in a commercial age, be considered as genealogical enthusiasm, did not omit to mention what i was sure my friend would not think lightly of, my relation[ ] to the royal personage, whose liberality, on his accession to the throne, had given him comfort and independence[ ]. i have, in a former page[ ], acknowledged my pride of ancient blood, in which i was encouraged by dr. johnson: my readers therefore will not be surprised at my having indulged it on this occasion. not far from the old castle is a spot of consecrated earth, on which may be traced the foundations of an ancient chapel, dedicated to st. vincent, and where in old times 'was the place of graves' for the family. it grieves me to think that the remains of sanctity here, which were considerable, were dragged away, and employed in building a part of the house of auchinleck, of the middle age; which was the family residence, till my father erected that 'elegant modern mansion,' of which dr. johnson speaks so handsomely. perhaps this chapel may one day be restored. dr. johnson was pleased when i shewed him some venerable old trees, under the shade of which my ancestors had walked. he exhorted me to plant assiduously[ ], as my father had done to a great extent. as i wandered with my reverend friend in the groves of auchinleck, i told him, that, if i survived him, it was my intention to erect a monument to him here, among scenes which, in my mind, were all classical; for in my youth i had appropriated to them many of the descriptions of the roman poets. he could not bear to have death presented to him in any shape; for his constitutional melancholy made the king of terrours more frightful. he turned off the subject, saying, 'sir, i hope to see your grand-children!' this forenoon he observed some cattle without horns, of which he has taken notice in his _journey_[ ], and seems undecided whether they be of a particular race. his doubts appear to have had no foundation; for my respectable neighbour, mr. fairlie, who, with all his attention to agriculture, finds time both for the classicks and his friends, assures me they are a distinct species, and that, when any of their calves have horns, a mixture of breed can be traced. in confirmation of his opinion, he pointed out to me the following passage in tacitus,--'_ne armentis quidem suus honor, aut gloria frontis_[ ];' (_de mor. germ. § _) which he wondered had escaped dr. johnson. on the front of the house of auchinleck is this inscription:-- 'quod petis, hic est; est ulubris; animus si te non deficit aequus[ ].' it is characteristick of the founder; but the _animus aequus_ is, alas! not inheritable, nor the subject of devise. he always talked to me as if it were in a man's own power to attain it; but dr. johnson told me that he owned to him, when they were alone, his persuasion that it was in a great measure constitutional, or the effect of causes which do not depend on ourselves, and that horace boasts too much, when he says, _aequum mi animum ipse parabo_[ ]. friday, november . the reverend mr. dun, our parish minister, who had dined with us yesterday, with some other company, insisted that dr. johnson and i should dine with him to-day. this gave me an opportunity to shew my friend the road to the church, made by my father at a great expence, for above three miles, on his own estate, through a range of well enclosed farms, with a row of trees on each side of it. he called it the _via sacra_, and was very fond of it.[ ]dr. johnson, though he held notions far distant from those of the presbyterian clergy, yet could associate on good terms with them. he indeed occasionally attacked them. one of them discovered a narrowness of information concerning the dignitaries of the church of england, among whom may be found men of the greatest learning, virtue, and piety, and of a truly apostolic character. he talked before dr. johnson, of fat bishops and drowsy deans; and, in short, seemed to believe the illiberal and profane scoffings of professed satyrists, or vulgar railers. dr. johnson was so highly offended, that he said to him, 'sir, you know no more of our church than a hottentot[ ].' i was sorry that he brought this upon himself. saturday, november . i cannot be certain, whether it was on this day, or a former, that dr. johnson and my father came in collision. if i recollect right, the contest began while my father was shewing him his collection of medals; and oliver cromwell's coin unfortunately introduced charles the first, and toryism. they became exceedingly warm, and violent, and i was very much distressed by being present at such an altercation between two men, both of whom i reverenced; yet i durst not interfere. it would certainly be very unbecoming in me to exhibit my honoured father, and my respected friend, as intellectual gladiators, for the entertainment of the publick: and therefore i suppress what would, i dare say, make an interesting scene in this dramatick sketch,--this account of the transit of johnson over the caledonian hemisphere[ ]. yet i think i may, without impropriety, mention one circumstance, as an instance of my father's address. dr. johnson challenged him, as he did us all at talisker[ ], to point out any theological works of merit written by presbyterian ministers in scotland. my father, whose studies did not lie much in that way, owned to me afterwards, that he was somewhat at a loss how to answer, but that luckily he recollected having read in catalogues the title of _durham on the galatians_; upon which he boldly said, 'pray, sir, have you read mr. durham's excellent commentary on the galatians?' 'no, sir,' said dr. johnson. by this lucky thought my father kept him at bay, and for some time enjoyed his triumph[ ]; but his antagonist soon made a retort, which i forbear to mention. in the course of their altercation, whiggism and presbyterianism, toryism and episcopacy, were terribly buffeted. my worthy hereditary friend, sir john pringle, never having been mentioned, happily escaped without a bruise. my father's opinion of dr. johnson may be conjectured from the name he afterwards gave him, which was ursa major[ ]. but it is not true, as has been reported, that it was in consequence of my saying that he was a _constellation_[ ] of genius and literature. it was a sly abrupt expression to one of his brethren on the bench of the court of session, in which dr. johnson was then standing; but it was not said in his hearing. sunday, november . my father and i went to publick worship in our parish-church, in which i regretted that dr. johnson would not join us; for, though we have there no form of prayer, nor magnificent solemnity, yet, as god is worshipped in spirit and in truth, and the same doctrines preached as in the church of england, my friend would certainly have shewn more liberality, had he attended. i doubt not, however, but he employed his time in private to very good purpose. his uniform and fervent piety was manifested on many occasions during our tour, which i have not mentioned. his reason for not joining in presbyterian worship has been recorded in a former page[ ]. monday, november . notwithstanding the altercation that had passed, my father, who had the dignified courtesy of an old baron, was very civil to dr. johnson, and politely attended him to the post-chaise, which was to convey us to edinburgh[ ]. thus they parted. they are now in another, and a higher, state of existence: and as they were both worthy christian men, i trust they have met in happiness. but i must observe, in justice to my friend's political principles, and my own, that they have met in a place where there is no room for _whiggism_[ ]. we came at night to a good inn at hamilton. i recollect no more. tuesday, november . i wished to have shewn dr. johnson the duke of hamilton's house, commonly called the _palace_ of hamilton, which is close by the town. it is an object which, having been pointed out to me as a splendid edifice, from my earliest years, in travelling between auchinleck and edinburgh, has still great grandeur in my imagination. my friend consented to stop, and view the outside of it, but could not be persuaded to go into it. we arrived this night at edinburgh, after an absence of eighty-three days. for five weeks together, of the tempestuous season, there had been no account received of us. i cannot express how happy i was on finding myself again at home. wednesday, november . old mr. drummond, the bookseller[ ], came to breakfast. dr. johnson and he had not met for ten years. there was respect on his side, and kindness on dr. johnson's. soon afterwards lord elibank came in, and was much pleased at seeing dr. johnson in scotland. his lordship said, 'hardly any thing seemed to him more improbable.' dr. johnson had a very high opinion of him. speaking of him to me, he characterized him thus: 'lord elibank has read a great deal. it is true, i can find in books all that he has read; but he has a great deal of what is in books, proved by the test of real life.' indeed, there have been few men whose conversation discovered more knowledge enlivened by fancy. he published several small pieces of distinguished merit; and has left some in manuscript, in particular an account of the expedition against carthagena, in which he served as an officer in the army. his writings deserve to be collected. he was the early patron of dr. robertson, the historian, and mr. home, the tragick poet; who, when they were ministers of country parishes, lived near his seat. he told me, 'i saw these lads had talents, and they were much with me.' i hope they will pay a grateful tribute to his memory[ ]. the morning was chiefly taken up by dr. johnson's giving him an account of our tour. the subject of difference in political principles was introduced. johnson. 'it is much increased by opposition. there was a violent whig, with whom i used to contend with great eagerness. after his death i felt my toryism much abated.' i suppose he meant mr. walmsley of lichfield, whose character he has drawn so well in his _life of edmund smith_[ ]. mr. nairne[ ] came in, and he and i accompanied dr. johnson to edinburgh castle, which he owned was 'a great place.' but i must mention, as a striking instance of that spirit of contradiction to which he had a strong propensity, when lord elibank was some days after talking of it with the natural elation of a scotchman, or of any man who is proud of a stately fortress in his own country, dr. johnson affected to despise it, observing that 'it would make a good _prison_ in england.' lest it should be supposed that i have suppressed one of his sallies against my country, it may not be improper here to correct a mistaken account that has been circulated, as to his conversation this day. it has been said, that being desired to attend to the noble prospect from the castle-hill, he replied, 'sir, the noblest prospect that a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to london.' this lively sarcasm was thrown out at a tavern[ ] in london, in my presence, many years before. we had with us to-day at dinner, at my house, the lady dowager colvill, and lady anne erskine, sisters of the earl of kelly[ ]; the honourable archibald erskine, who has now succeeded to that title; lord elibank; the reverend dr. blair; mr. tytler, the acute vindicator of mary queen of scots[ ], and some other friends[ ]. _fingal_ being talked of, dr. johnson, who used to boast that he had, from the first, resisted both ossian[ ] and the giants of patagonia[ ], averred his positive disbelief of its authenticity. lord elibank said, 'i am sure it is not m'pherson's. mr. johnson, i keep company a great deal with you; it is known i do. i may borrow from you better things than i can say myself, and give them as my own; but, if i should, every body will know whose they are.' the doctor was not softened by this compliment. he denied merit to _fingal_, supposing it to be the production of a man who has had the advantages that the present age affords; and said, 'nothing is more easy than to write enough in that style if once you begin[ ].'[ ]one gentleman in company[ ] expressing his opinion 'that _fingal_ was certainly genuine, for that he had heard a great part of it repeated in the original,' dr. johnson indignantly asked him whether he understood the original; to which an answer being given in the negative, 'why then, (said dr. johnson,) we see to what _this_ testimony comes:--thus it is.' i mentioned this as a remarkable proof how liable the mind of man is to credulity, when not guarded by such strict examination as that which dr. johnson habitually practised.[ ]the talents and integrity of the gentleman who made the remark, are unquestionable; yet, had not dr. johnson made him advert to the consideration, that he who does not understand a language, cannot know that something which is recited to him is in that language, he might have believed, and reported to this hour, that he had 'heard a great part of _fingal_ repeated in the original.' for the satisfaction of those on the north of the tweed, who may think dr. johnson's account of caledonian credulity and inaccuracy too strong,[ ] it is but fair to add, that he admitted the same kind of ready belief might be found in his own country. 'he would undertake, (he said) to write an epick poem on the story of _robin hood_,[ ] and half england, to whom the names and places he should mention in it are familiar, would believe and declare they had heard it from their earliest years.' one of his objections to the authenticity of _fingal_, during the conversation at ulinish,[ ] is omitted in my _journal_, but i perfectly recollect it. 'why is not the original deposited in some publick library, instead of exhibiting attestations of its existence?[ ] suppose there were a question in a court of justice, whether a man be dead or alive: you aver he is alive, and you bring fifty witnesses to swear it: i answer, "why do you not produce the man?"' this is an argument founded upon one of the first principles of the _law of evidence_, which _gilbert_[ ] would have held to be irrefragable. i do not think it incumbent on me to give any precise decided opinion upon this question, as to which i believe more than some, and less than others.[ ] the subject appears to have now become very uninteresting to the publick. that _fingal_ is not from beginning to end a translation from the gallick, but that _some_ passages have been supplied by the editor to connect the whole, i have heard admitted by very warm advocates for its authenticity. if this be the case, why are not these distinctly ascertained? antiquaries, and admirers of the work, may complain, that they are in a situation similar to that of the unhappy gentleman, whose wife informed him, on her death-bed, that one of their reputed children was not his; and, when he eagerly begged her to declare which of them it was, she answered, '_that_ you shall never know;' and expired, leaving him in irremediable doubt as to them all. i beg leave now to say something upon _second sight_, of which i have related two instances,[ ] as they impressed my mind at the time. i own, i returned from the hebrides with a considerable degree of faith in the many stories of that kind which i heard with a too easy acquiescence, without any close examination of the evidence: but, since that time, my belief in those stories has been much weakened,[ ] by reflecting on the careless inaccuracy of narrative in common matters, from which we may certainly conclude that there may be the same in what is more extraordinary. it is but just, however, to add, that the belief in second sight is not peculiar to the highlands and isles.[ ] some years after our tour, a cause[ ] was tried in the court of session, where the principal fact to be ascertained was, whether a ship-master, who used to frequent the western highlands and isles, was drowned in one particular year, or in the year after. a great number of witnesses from those parts were examined on each side, and swore directly contrary to each other, upon this simple question. one of them, a very respectable chieftain, who told me a story of second sight, which i have not mentioned, but which i too implicitly believed, had in this case, previous to this publick examination, not only said, but attested under his hand, that he had seen the ship-master in the year subsequent to that in which the court was finally satisfied he was drowned. when interrogated with the strictness of judicial inquiry, and under the awe of an oath, he recollected himself better, and retracted what he had formerly asserted, apologising for his inaccuracy, by telling the judges, 'a man will _say_ what he will not _swear_.' by many he was much censured, and it was maintained that every gentleman would be as attentive to truth without the sanction of an oath, as with it. dr. johnson, though he himself was distinguished at all times by a scrupulous adherence to truth, controverted this proposition; and as a proof that this was not, though it ought to be, the case, urged the very different decisions of elections under mr. grenville's act,[ ] from those formerly made. 'gentlemen will not pronounce upon oath what they would have said, and voted in the house, without that sanction.' however difficult it may be for men who believe in preternatural communications, in modern times, to satisfy those who are of a different opinion, they may easily refute the doctrine of their opponents, who impute a belief in _second sight_ to _superstition_. to entertain a visionary notion that one sees a distant or future event, may be called _superstition_: but the correspondence of the fact or event with such an impression on the fancy, though certainly very wonderful, _if proved_, has no more connection with superstition, than magnetism or electricity. after dinner, various topicks were discussed; but i recollect only one particular. dr. johnson compared the different talents of garrick and foote,[ ] as companions, and gave garrick greatly the preference for elegance, though he allowed foote extraordinary powers of entertainment. he said, 'garrick is restrained by some principle; but foote has the advantage of an unlimited range. garrick has some delicacy of feeling; it is possible to put him out; you may get the better of him; but foote is the most incompressible fellow that i ever knew; when you have driven him into a corner, and think you are sure of him, he runs through between your legs, or jumps over your head, and makes his escape.' dr. erskine[ ] and mr. robert walker, two very respectable ministers of edinburgh, supped with us, as did the reverend dr. webster.[ ] the conversation turned on the moravian missions, and on the methodists. dr. johnson observed in general, that missionaries were too sanguine in their accounts of their success among savages, and that much of what they tell is not to be believed. he owned that the methodists had done good; had spread religious impressions among the vulgar part of mankind:[ ] but, he said, they had great bitterness against other christians, and that he never could get a methodist to explain in what he excelled others; that it always ended in the indispensible necessity of hearing one of their preachers.[ ] thursday, november . principal robertson came to us as we sat at breakfast, he advanced to dr. johnson, repeating a line of virgil, which i forget. i suppose, either post varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum[ ]-- or --multum ille et terris jactatus, et alto[ ]. every body had accosted us with some studied compliment on our return. dr. johnson said, 'i am really ashamed of the congratulations which we receive. we are addressed as if we had made a voyage to nova zembla, and suffered five persecutions in japan[ ].' and he afterwards remarked, that, 'to see a man come up with a formal air and a latin line, when we had no fatigue and no danger, was provoking[ ].' i told him, he was not sensible of the danger, having lain under cover in the boat during the storm[ ]: he was like the chicken, that hides its head under its wing, and then thinks itself safe. lord elibank came to us, as did sir william forbes. the rash attempt in being mentioned, i observed, that it would make a fine piece of history. dr. johnson said it would.[ ] lord elibank doubted whether any man of this age could give it impartially. johnson. 'a man, by talking with those of different sides, who were actors in it, and putting down all that he hears, may in time collect the materials of a good narrative. you are to consider, all history was at first oral. i suppose voltaire was fifty years[ ] in collecting his _louis xiv_. which he did in the way that i am proposing.' robertson. 'he did so. he lived much with all the great people who were concerned in that reign, and heard them talk of everything: and then either took mr. boswell's way, of writing down what he heard, or, which is as good, preserved it in his memory; for he has a wonderful memory.' with the leave, however, of this elegant historian, no man's memory can preserve facts or sayings with such fidelity as may be done by writing them down when they are recent. dr. robertson said, 'it was now full time to make such a collection as dr. johnson suggested; for many of the people who were then in arms, were dropping off; and both whigs and jacobites were now come to talk with moderation.' lord elibank said to him, 'mr. robertson, the first thing that gave me a high opinion of you, was your saying in the _select society_[ ], while parties ran high, soon after the year , that you did not think worse of a man's moral character for his having been in rebellion. this was venturing to utter a liberal sentiment, while both sides had a detestation of each other.' dr. johnson observed, that being in rebellion from a notion of another's right, was not connected with depravity; and that we had this proof of it, that all mankind applauded the pardoning of rebels; which they would not do in the case of robbers and murderers. he said, with a smile, that 'he wondered that the phrase of _unnatural_ rebellion should be so much used, for that all rebellion was natural to man.' * * * * * as i kept no journal of anything that passed after this morning, i shall, from memory, group together this and the other days, till that on which dr. johnson departed for london. they were in all nine days; on which he dined at lady colvill's, lord hailes's, sir adolphus oughton's, sir alexander dick's, principal robertson's, mr. m'laurin's[ ], and thrice at lord elibank's seat in the country, where we also passed two nights[ ]. he supped at the honourable alexander gordon's[ ], now one of our judges, by the title of lord rockville; at mr. nairne's, now also one of our judges, by the title of lord dunsinan; at dr. blair's, and mr. tytler's; and at my house thrice, one evening with a numerous company, chiefly gentlemen of the law; another with mr. menzies of culdares, and lord monboddo, who disengaged himself on purpose to meet him; and the evening on which we returned from lord elibank's, he supped with my wife and me by ourselves[ ]. he breakfasted at dr. webster's, at old mr. drummond's, and at dr. blacklock's; and spent one forenoon at my uncle dr. boswell's[ ], who shewed him his curious museum; and, as he was an elegant scholar, and a physician bred in the school of boerhaave[ ], dr. johnson was pleased with his company. on the mornings when he breakfasted at my house, he had, from ten o'clock till one or two, a constant levee of various persons, of very different characters and descriptions. i could not attend him, being obliged to be in the court of session; but my wife was so good as to devote the greater part of the morning to the endless task of pouring out tea for my friend and his visitors. such was the disposition of his time at edinburgh. he said one evening to me, in a fit of languor, 'sir, we have been harassed by invitations.' i acquiesced. 'ay, sir,' he replied; but how much worse would it have been, if we had been neglected[ ]?' from what has been recorded in this _journal_, it may well be supposed that a variety of admirable conversation has been lost, by my neglect to preserve it. i shall endeavour to recollect some of it, as well as i can. at lady colvill's, to whom i am proud to introduce any stranger of eminence, that he may see what dignity and grace is to be found in scotland, an officer observed, that he had heard lord mansfield was not a great english lawyer. johnson. 'why, sir, supposing lord mansfield not to have the splendid talents which he possesses, he must be a great english lawyer, from having been so long at the bar, and having passed through so many of the great offices of the law. sir, you may as well maintain that a carrier, who has driven a packhorse between edinburgh and berwick for thirty years, does not know the road, as that lord mansfield does not know the law of england[ ].' at mr. nairne's, he drew the character of richardson, the authour of _clarissa_, with a strong yet delicate pencil. i lament much that i have not preserved it; i only remember that he expressed a high opinion of his talents and virtues; but observed, that 'his perpetual study was to ward off petty inconveniences, and procure petty pleasures; that his love of continual superiority was such, that he took care to be always surrounded by women[ ], who listened to him implicitly, and did not venture to controvert his opinions; and that his desire of distinction was so great, that he used to give large vails to the speaker onslow's servants, that they might treat him with respect.' on the same evening, he would not allow that the private life of a judge, in england, was required to be so strictly decorous as i supposed. 'why then, sir, (said i,) according to your account, an english judge may just live like a gentleman.' johnson. 'yes, sir[ ],--if he _can_.' at mr. tytler's, i happened to tell that one evening, a great many years ago, when dr. hugh blair and i were sitting together in the pit of drury-lane play-house, in a wild freak of youthful extravagance, i entertained the audience _prodigiously_[ ], by imitating the lowing of a cow. a little while after i had told this story, i differed from dr. johnson, i suppose too confidently, upon some point, which i now forget. he did not spare me. 'nay, sir, (said he,) if you cannot talk better as a man, i'd have you bellow like a cow[ ].' at dr. webster's, he said, that he believed hardly any man died without affectation. this remark appears to me to be well founded, and will account for many of the celebrated death-bed sayings which are recorded[ ]. on one of the evenings at my house, when he told that lord lovat boasted to an english nobleman, that though he had not his wealth, he had two thousand men whom he could at any time call into the field, the honourable alexander gordon observed, that those two thousand men brought him to the block. 'true, sir, (said dr. johnson:) but you may just as well argue, concerning a man who has fallen over a precipice to which he has walked too near,--"his two legs brought him to that," is he not the better for having two legs?' at dr. blair's i left him, in order to attend a consultation, during which he and his amiable host were by themselves. i returned to supper, at which were principal robertson, mr. nairne, and some other gentlemen. dr. robertson and dr. blair, i remember, talked well upon subordination[ ] and government; and, as my friend and i were walking home, he said to me, 'sir, these two doctors are good men, and wise men[ ].' i begged of dr. blair to recollect what he could of the long conversation that passed between dr. johnson and him alone, this evening, and he obligingly wrote to me as follows:-- '_march_ , . 'dear sir, '--as so many years have intervened, since i chanced to have that conversation with dr. johnson in my house, to which you refer, i have forgotten most of what then passed, but remember that i was both instructed and entertained by it. among other subjects, the discourse happening to turn on modern latin poets, the dr. expressed a very favourable opinion of buchanan, and instantly repeated, from beginning to end, an ode of his, intituled _calendae maiae_, (the eleventh in his _miscellaneorum liber_), beginning with these words, '_salvete sacris deliciis sacrae_,' with which i had formerly been unacquainted; but upon perusing it, the praise which he bestowed upon it, as one of the happiest of buchanan's poetical compositions, appeared to me very just. he also repeated to me a latin ode he had composed in one of the western islands, from which he had lately returned. we had much discourse concerning his excursion to those islands, with which he expressed himself as having been highly pleased; talked in a favourable manner of the hospitality of the inhabitants; and particularly spoke much of his happiness in having you for his companion; and said, that the longer he knew you, he loved and esteemed you the more. this conversation passed in the interval between tea and supper, when we were by ourselves. you, and the rest of the company who were with us at supper, have often taken notice that he was uncommonly bland and gay that evening, and gave much pleasure to all who were present. this is all that i can recollect distinctly of that long conversation. 'your's sincerely, 'hugh blair.' at lord hailes's, we spent a most agreeable day; but again i must lament that i was so indolent as to let almost all that passed evaporate into oblivion. dr. johnson observed there, that 'it is wonderful how ignorant many officers of the army are, considering how much leisure they have for study, and the acquisition of knowledge[ ].' i hope he was mistaken; for he maintained that many of them were ignorant of things belonging immediately to their own profession; 'for instance, many cannot tell how far a musket will carry a bullet;' in proof of which, i suppose, he mentioned some particular person, for lord hailes, from whom i solicited what he could recollect of that day, writes to me as follows:-- 'as to dr. johnson's observation about the ignorance of officers, in the length that a musket will carry, my brother, colonel dalrymple, was present, and he thought that the doctor was either mistaken, by putting the question wrong, or that he had conversed on the subject with some person out of service. 'was it upon that occasion that he expressed no curiosity to see the room at dumfermline, where charles i. was born? "i know that he was born, (said he;) no matter where."--did he envy us the birth-place of the king?' near the end of his _journey_, dr. johnson has given liberal praise to mr. braidwood's academy for the deaf and dumb[ ]. when he visited it, a circumstance occurred which was truly characteristical of our great lexicographer. 'pray, (said he,) can they pronounce any _long_ words?' mr. braidwood informed him they could. upon which dr. johnson wrote one of his _sesquipedalia verba_[ ], which was pronounced by the scholars, and he was satisfied. my readers may perhaps wish to know what the word was; but i cannot gratify their curiosity. mr. braidwood told me, it remained long in his school, but had been lost before i made my inquiry[ ]. dr. johnson one day visited the court of session[ ]. he thought the mode of pleading there too vehement, and too much addressed to the passions of the judges. 'this (said he) is not the areopagus.' at old mr. drummond's, sir john dalrymple quaintly said, the two noblest animals in the world were, a scotch highlander and an english sailor[ ]. 'why, sir, (said dr. johnson,) i shall say nothing as to the scotch highlander; but as to the english sailor, i cannot agree with you.' sir john said, he was generous in giving away his money.' johnson. 'sir, he throws away his money, without thought, and without merit. i do not call a tree generous, that sheds its fruit at every breeze.' sir john having affected to complain of the attacks made upon his _memoirs_[ ], dr. johnson said, 'nay, sir, do not complain. it is advantageous to an authour, that his book should be attacked as well as praised. fame is a shuttlecock. if it be struck only at one end of the room, it will soon fall to the ground. to keep it up, it must be struck at both ends[ ].' often have i reflected on this since; and, instead of being angry at many of those who have written against me, have smiled to think that they were unintentionally subservient to my fame, by using a battledoor to make me _virum volitare per ora_[ ]. at sir alexander dick's, from that absence of mind to which every man is at times subject, i told, in a blundering manner, lady eglingtoune's complimentary adoption of dr. johnson as her son; for i unfortunately stated that her ladyship adopted him as her son, in consequence of her having been married the year _after_ he was born. dr. johnson instantly corrected me. 'sir, don't you perceive that you are defaming the countess? for, supposing me to be her son, and that she was not married till the year after my birth, i must have been her _natural_ son.' a young lady of quality, who was present, very handsomely said, 'might not the son have justified the fault?' my friend was much flattered by this compliment, which he never forgot. when in more than ordinary spirits, and talking of his journey in scotland, he has called to me, 'boswell, what was it that the young lady of quality said of me at sir alexander dick's ?' nobody will doubt that i was happy in repeating it. my illustrious friend, being now desirous to be again in the great theatre of life and animated exertion, took a place in the coach, which was to set out for london on monday the nd of november[ ]. sir john dalrymple pressed him to come on the saturday before, to his house at cranston, which being twelve miles from edinburgh, upon the middle road to newcastle, (dr. johnson had come to edinburgh by berwick, and along the naked coast[ ],) it would make his journey easier, as the coach would take him up at a more seasonable hour than that at which it sets out. sir john, i perceived, was ambitious of having such a guest; but, as i was well assured, that at this very time he had joined with some of his prejudiced countrymen in railing at dr. johnson[ ], and had said, he 'wondered how any gentleman of scotland could keep company with him,' i thought he did not deserve the honour: yet, as it might be a convenience to dr. johnson, i contrived that he should accept the invitation, and engaged to conduct him. i resolved that, on our way to sir john's, we should make a little circuit by roslin castle, and hawthornden, and wished to set out soon after breakfast; but young mr. tytler came to shew dr. johnson some essays which he had written; and my great friend, who was exceedingly obliging when thus consulted[ ], was detained so long, that it was, i believe, one o'clock before we got into our post-chaise. i found that we should be too late for dinner at sir john dalrymple's, to which we were engaged: but i would by no means lose the pleasure of seeing my friend at hawthornden,--of seeing _sam johnson_ at the very spot where _ben jonson_ visited the learned and poetical drummond[ ]. we surveyed roslin castle, the romantick scene around it, and the beautiful gothick chapel[ ], and dined and drank tea at the inn; after which we proceeded to hawthornden, and viewed the caves; and i all the while had _rare ben_[ ] in my mind, and was pleased to think that this place was now visited by another celebrated wit of england. by this time 'the waning night was growing old,' and we were yet several miles from sir john dalrymple's. dr. johnson did not seem much troubled at our having treated the baronet with so little attention to politeness; but when i talked of the grievous disappointment it must have been to him that we did not come to the _feast_ that he had prepared for us, (for he told us he had killed a seven-year old sheep on purpose,) my friend got into a merry mood, and jocularly said, 'i dare say, sir, he has been very sadly distressed: nay, we do not know but the consequence may have been fatal. let me try to describe his situation in his own historical style, i have as good a right to make him think and talk, as he has to tell us how people thought and talked a hundred years ago, of which he has no evidence. all history, so far as it is not supported by contemporary evidence, is romance[ ]--stay now.--let us consider!' he then (heartily laughing all the while) proceeded in his imitation, i am sure to the following effect, though now, at the distance of almost twelve years, i cannot pretend to recollect all the precise words:-- 'dinner being ready, he wondered that his guests were not yet come. his wonder was soon succeeded by impatience. he walked about the room in anxious agitation; sometimes he looked at his watch, sometimes he looked out at the window with an eager gaze of expectation, and revolved in his mind the various accidents of human life. his family beheld him with mute concern. "surely (said he, with a sigh,) they will not fail me." the mind of man can bear a certain pressure; but there is a point when it can bear no more. a rope was in his view, and he died a roman death[ ]. it was very late before we reached the seat of sir john dalrymple, who, certainly with some reason, was not in very good humour. our conversation was not brilliant. we supped, and went to bed in ancient rooms, which would have better suited the climate of italy in summer, than that of scotland in the month of november. i recollect no conversation of the next day, worth preserving, except one saying of dr. johnson, which will be a valuable text for many decent old dowagers, and other good company, in various circles to descant upon. he said, 'i am sorry i have not learnt to play at cards. it is very useful in life: it generates kindness, and consolidates society[ ].' he certainly could not mean deep play. my friend and i thought we should be more comfortable at the inn at blackshields, two miles farther on. we therefore went thither in the evening, and he was very entertaining; but i have preserved nothing but the pleasing remembrance, and his verses on george the second and cibber[ ], and his epitaph on parnell[ ], which he was then so good as to dictate to me. we breakfasted together next morning, and then the coach came, and took him up. he had, as one of his companions in it, as far as newcastle, the worthy and ingenious dr. hope, botanical professor at edinburgh. both dr. johnson and he used to speak of their good fortune in thus accidentally meeting; for they had much instructive conversation, which is always a most valuable enjoyment, and, when found where it is not expected, is peculiarly relished. i have now completed my account of our tour to the hebrides. i have brought dr. johnson down to scotland, and seen him into the coach which in a few hours carried him back into england. he said to me often, that the time he spent in this tour was the pleasantest part of his life[ ], and asked me if i would lose the recollection of it for five hundred pounds. i answered i would not; and he applauded my setting such a value on an accession of new images in my mind[ ]. had it not been for me, i am persuaded dr. johnson never would have undertaken such a journey; and i must be allowed to assume some merit from having been the cause that our language has been enriched with such a book as that which he published on his return; a book which i never read but with the utmost admiration, as i had such opportunities of knowing from what very meagre materials it was composed. but my praise may be supposed partial; and therefore i shall insert two testimonies, not liable to that objection, both written by gentlemen of scotland, to whose opinions i am confident the highest respect will be paid, lord hailes[ ], and mr. dempster[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'sir, 'i have received much pleasure and much instruction, from perusing _the journey to the hebrides_. 'i admire the elegance and variety of description, and the lively picture of men and manners. i always approve of the moral, often of the political, reflections. i love the benevolence of the authour. 'they who search for faults, may possibly find them in this, as well as in every other work of literature. 'for example, the friends of the old family say that _the aera of planting_ is placed too late, at the union of the two kingdoms[ ]. i am known to be no friend of the old family; yet i would place the aera of planting at the restoration; after the murder of charles i. had been expiated in the anarchy which succeeded it. 'before the restoration, few trees were planted, unless by the monastick drones: their successors, (and worthy patriots they were,) the barons, first cut down the trees, and then sold the estates. the gentleman at st. andrews, who said that there were but two trees in fife[ ], ought to have added, that the elms of balmerino[ ] were sold within these twenty years, to make pumps for the fire-engines. 'in j. major de _gestis scotorum_, l. i. c. . last edition, there is a singular passage:-- '"davidi cranstoneo conterraneo, dum de prima theologiae licentia foret, duo ei consocii et familiares, et mei cum eo in artibus auditores, scilicet jacobus almain senonensis, et petrus bruxcellensis, praedicatoris ordinis, in sorbonae curia die sorbonico commilitonibus suis publice objecerunt, _quod pane avenaceo plebeii scoti_, sicut a quodam religioso intellexerant, _vescebantur, ut virum, quem cholericum noverant, honestis salibus tentarent, qui hoc inficiari tanquam patriae dedecus nisus est_." 'pray introduce our countryman, mr. licentiate david cranston, to the acquaintance of mr. johnson. 'the syllogism seems to have been this: 'they who feed on oatmeal are barbarians; but the scots feed on oatmeal: ergo-- the licentiate denied the _minor_, i am, sir, your most obedient servant, 'dav. dalrymple.' 'newhailes, th feb. .' to james boswell, esq., edinburgh. dunnichen, th february, . 'my dear boswell, 'i cannot omit a moment to return you my best thanks for the entertainment you have furnished me, my family, and guests, by the perusal of dr. johnson's _journey to the western islands_; and now for my sentiments of it. i was well entertained. his descriptions are accurate and vivid. he carried me on the tour along with him. i am pleased with the justice he has done to your humour and vivacity. "the noise of the wind being all its own," is a _bon-mot_, that it would have been a pity to have omitted, and a robbery not to have ascribed to its author[ ]. 'there is nothing in the book, from beginning to end, that a scotchman need to take amiss[ ]. what he says of the country is true, and his observations on the people are what must naturally occur to a sensible, observing, and reflecting inhabitant of a _convenient_ metropolis, where a man on thirty pounds a year may be better accommodated with all the little wants of life, than _col._ or _sir allan_. he reasons candidly about the _second sight_; but i wish he had enquired more, before he ventured to say he even doubted of the possibility of such an unusual and useless deviation from all the known laws of nature[ ]. the notion of the second sight i consider as a remnant of superstitious ignorance and credulity, which a philosopher will set down as such, till the contrary is clearly proved, and then it will be classed among the other certain, though unaccountable parts of our nature, like dreams[ ], and-i do not know what. 'in regard to the language, it has the merit of being all his own. many words of foreign extraction are used, where, i believe, common ones would do as well, especially on familiar occasions. yet i believe he could not express himself so forcibly in any other stile. i am charmed with his researches concerning the erse language, and the antiquity of their manuscripts. i am quite convinced; and i shall rank _ossian_, and his _fingals_ and _oscars_, amongst the nursery tales, not the true history of our country, in all time to come. 'upon the whole, the book cannot displease, for it has no pretensions. the author neither says he is a geographer, nor an antiquarian, nor very learned in the history of scotland, nor a naturalist, nor a fossilist[ ]. the manners of the people, and the face of the country, are all he attempts to describe, or seems to have thought of. much were it to be wished, that they who have travelled into more remote, and of course, more curious, regions, had all possessed his good sense. of the state of learning, his observations on glasgow university[ ] shew he has formed a very sound judgement. he understands our climate too, and he has accurately observed the changes, however slow and imperceptible to us, which scotland has undergone, in consequence of the blessings of liberty and internal peace. i could have drawn my pen through the story of the old woman at st. andrews, being the only silly thing in the book[ ]. he has taken the opportunity of ingrafting into the work several good observations, which i dare say he had made upon men and things, before he set foot on scotch ground, by which it is considerably enriched[ ]. a long journey, like a tall may-pole, though not very beautiful itself, yet is pretty enough, when ornamented with flowers and garlands; it furnishes a sort of cloak-pins for hanging the furniture of your mind upon; and whoever sets out upon a journey, without furnishing his mind previously with much study and useful knowledge, erects a may-pole in december, and puts up very useless cloak-pins[ ]. 'i hope the book will induce many of his countrymen to make the same jaunt, and help to intermix the more liberal part of them still more with us, and perhaps abate somewhat of that virulent antipathy which many of them entertain against the scotch: who certainly would never have formed those _combinations_[ ] which he takes notice of, more than their ancestors, had they not been necessary for their mutual safety, at least for their success, in a country where they are treated as foreigners. they would find us not deficient, at least in point of hospitality, and they would be ashamed ever after to abuse us in the mass. 'so much for the tour. i have now, for the first time in my life, passed a winter in the country; and never did three months roll on with more swiftness and satisfaction. i used not only to wonder at, but pity, those whose lot condemned them to winter any where but in either of the capitals. but every place has its charms to a cheerful mind. i am busy planting and taking measures for opening the summer campaign in farming; and i find i have an excellent resource, when revolutions in politicks perhaps, and revolutions of the sun for certain, will make it decent for me to retreat behind the ranks of the more forward in life. 'i am glad to hear the last was a very busy week with you. i see you as counsel in some causes which must have opened a charming field for your humourous vein. as it is more uncommon, so i verily believe it is more useful than the more serious exercise of reason; and, to a man who is to appear in publick, more eclat is to be gained, sometimes more money too, by a _bon-mot_, than a learned speech. it is the fund of natural humour which lord north possesses, that makes him so much the favourite of the house, and so able, because so amiable, a leader of a party[ ]. 'i have now finished _my_ tour of _seven pages_. in what remains, i beg leave to offer my compliments, and those of _ma tres chere femme_, to you and mrs. boswell. pray unbend the busy brow, and frolick a little in a letter to, 'my dear boswell, 'your affectionate friend, 'george dempster[ ].' i shall also present the publick with a correspondence with the laird of rasay, concerning a passage in the _journey to the_ western islands, which shews dr. johnson in a very amiable light. 'to james boswell, esq. 'rasay, april th, . 'dear sir, 'i take this occasion of returning you my most hearty thanks for the civilities shewn to my daughter by you and mrs. boswell. yet, though she has informed me that i am under this obligation, i should very probably have deferred troubling you with making my acknowledgments at present, if i had not seen dr. johnson's _journey to the western isles_, in which he has been pleased to make a very friendly mention of my family, for which i am surely obliged to him, as being more than an equivalent for the reception you and he met with. yet there is one paragraph i should have been glad he had omitted, which i am sure was owing to misinformation; that is, that i had acknowledged mcleod to be my chief, though my ancestors disputed the pre-eminence for a long tract of time. 'i never had occasion to enter seriously on this argument with the present laird or his grandfather, nor could i have any temptation to such a renunciation from either of them. i acknowledge, the benefit of being chief of a clan is in our days of very little significancy, and to trace out the progress of this honour to the founder of a family, of any standing, would perhaps be a matter of some difficulty. 'the true state of the present case is this: the mcleod family consists of two different branches; the m'leods of lewis, of which i am descended, and the m'leods of harris. and though the former have lost a very extensive estate by forfeiture in king james the sixth's time, there are still several respectable families of it existing, who would justly blame me for such an unmeaning cession, when they all acknowledge me head of that family; which though in fact it be but an ideal point of honour, is not hitherto so far disregarded in our country, but it would determine some of my friends to look on me as a much smaller man than either they or myself judge me at present to be. i will, therefore, ask it as a favour of you to acquaint the doctor with the difficulty he has brought me to. in travelling among rival clans, such a silly tale as this might easily be whispered into the ear of a passing stranger; but as it has no foundation in fact, i hope the doctor will be so good as to take his own way in undeceiving the publick, i principally mean my friends and connections, who will be first angry at me, and next sorry to find such an instance of my littleness recorded in a book which has a very fair chance of being much read. i expect you will let me know what he will write you in return, and we here beg to make offer to you and mrs. boswell of our most respectful compliments. 'i am, 'dear sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'john m'leod.' * * * * * 'to the laird of rasay. 'london, may , . 'dear sir, 'the day before yesterday i had the honour to receive your letter, and i immediately communicated it to dr. johnson. he said he loved your spirit, and was exceedingly sorry that he had been the cause of the smallest uneasiness to you. there is not a more candid man in the world than he is, when properly addressed, as you will see from his letter to you, which i now enclose. he has allowed me to take a copy of it, and he says you may read it to your clan, or publish it if you please. be assured, sir, that i shall take care of what he has entrusted to me, which is to have an acknowledgement of his errour inserted in the edinburgh newspapers. you will, i dare say, be fully satisfied with dr. johnson's behaviour. he is desirous to know that you are; and therefore when you have read his acknowledgement in the papers, i beg you may write to me; and if you choose it, i am persuaded a letter from you to the doctor also will be taken kind. i shall be at edinburgh the week after next. 'any civilities which my wife and i had in our power to shew to your daughter, miss m'leod, were due to her own merit, and were well repaid by her agreeable company. but i am sure i should be a very unworthy man if i did not wish to shew a grateful sense of the hospitable and genteel manner in which you were pleased to treat me. be assured, my dear sir, that i shall never forget your goodness, and the happy hours which i spent in rasay. 'you and dr. m'leod were both so obliging as to promise me an account in writing, of all the particulars which each of you remember, concerning the transactions of - . pray do not forget this, and be as minute and full as you can; put down every thing; i have a great curiosity to know as much as i can, authentically. 'i beg that you may present my best respects to lady rasay, my compliments to your young family, and to dr. m'leod; and my hearty good wishes to malcolm, with whom i hope again to shake hands cordially. i have the honour to be, 'dear sir, 'your obliged and faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' advertisement, written by dr. johnson, and inserted by his desire in the edinburgh newspapers:--referred to in the foregoing letter[ ]. _'the authour of the_ journey to the western islands, _having related that the m'leods of rasay acknowledge the chieftainship or superiority of the m'leods of sky, finds that he has been misinformed or mistaken. he means in a future edition to correct his errour[ ], and wishes to be told of more, if more have been discovered.'_ dr. johnson's letter was as follows:-- 'to the laird of rasay. 'dear sir, 'mr. boswell has this day shewn me a letter, in which you complain of a passage in _the journey to the hebrides._ my meaning is mistaken. i did not intend to say that you had personally made any cession of the rights of your house, or any acknowledgement of the superiority of m'leod of dunvegan. i only designed to express what i thought generally admitted,--that the house of rasay allowed the superiority of the house of dunvegan. even this i now find to be erroneous, and will therefore omit or retract it in the next edition. 'though what i had said had been true, if it had been disagreeable to you, i should have wished it unsaid; for it is not my business to adjust precedence. as it is mistaken, i find myself disposed to correct, both by my respect for you, and my reverence for truth. 'as i know not when the book will be reprinted, i have desired mr. boswell to anticipate the correction in the edinburgh papers. this is all that can be done. 'i hope i may now venture to desire that my compliments may be made, and my gratitude expressed, to lady rasay, mr. malcolm m'leod, mr. donald m'queen, and all the gentlemen and all the ladies whom i saw in the island of rasay; a place which i remember with too much pleasure and too much kindness, not to be sorry that my ignorance, or hasty persuasion, should, for a single moment, have violated its tranquillity. 'i beg you all to forgive an undesigned and involuntary injury, and to consider me as, 'sir, your most obliged, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'london, may , .' it would be improper for me to boast of my own labours; but i cannot refrain from publishing such praise as i received from such a man as sir william forbes, of pitsligo, after the perusal of the original manuscript of my _journal_[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'edinburgh, march , . 'my dear sir, 'i ought to have thanked you sooner, for your very obliging letter, and for the singular confidence you are pleased to place in me, when you trust me with such a curious and valuable deposit as the papers you have sent me[ ]. be assured i have a due sense of this favour, and shall faithfully and carefully return them to you. you may rely that i shall neither copy any part, nor permit the papers to be seen. 'they contain a curious picture of society, and form a journal on the most instructive plan that can possibly be thought of; for i am not sure that an ordinary observer would become so well acquainted either with dr. johnson, or with the manners of the hebrides, by a personal intercourse, as by a perusal of your _journal_. 'i am, very truly, 'dear sir, 'your most obedient, 'and affectionate humble servant, 'william forbes.' when i consider how many of the persons mentioned in this tour are now gone to 'that undiscovered country, from whose bourne no traveller returns[ ],' i feel an impression at once awful and tender.--_requiescant in pace!_ it may be objected by some persons, as it has been by one of my friends, that he who has the power of thus exhibiting an exact transcript of conversations is not a desirable member of society. i repeat the answer which i made to that friend:--'few, very few, need be afraid that their sayings will be recorded. can it be imagined that i would take the trouble to gather what grows on every hedge, because i have collected such fruits as the _nonpareil_ and the bon chretien[ ]?' on the other hand, how useful is such a faculty, if well exercised! to it we owe all those interesting apophthegms and _memorabilia_ of the ancients, which plutarch, xenophon, and valerius maximus, have transmitted to us. to it we owe all those instructive and entertaining collections which the french have made under the title of _ana_, affixed to some celebrated name. to it we owe the _table-talk_ of selden[ ], the _conversation_ between ben jonson and drummond of hawthornden, spence's _anecdotes_ of pope[ ], and other valuable remains in our own language. how delighted should we have been, if thus introduced into the company of shakspeare and of dryden[ ], of whom we know scarcely any thing but their admirable writings! what pleasure would it have given us, to have known their petty habits, their characteristick manners, their modes of composition, and their genuine opinion of preceding writers and of their contemporaries! all these are now irrecoverably lost. considering how many of the strongest and most brilliant effusions of exalted intellect must have perished, how much is it to be regretted that all men of distinguished wisdom and wit have not been attended by friends, of taste enough to relish, and abilities enough to register their conversation; 'vixere fortes ante agamemnona multi, sed omnes illacrymabiles urgentur, ignotique longa nocte, carent quia vate sacro[ ].' they whose inferiour exertions are recorded, as serving to explain or illustrate the sayings of such men, may be proud of being thus associated, and of their names being transmitted to posterity, by being appended to an illustrious character. before i conclude, i think it proper to say, that i have suppressed[ ] every thing which i thought could _really_ hurt any one now living. vanity and self-conceit indeed may sometimes suffer. with respect to what _is_ related, i considered it my duty to 'extenuate nothing, nor set down aught in malice[ ];' and with those lighter strokes of dr. johnson's satire, proceeding from a warmth and quickness of imagination, not from any malevolence of heart, and which, on account of their excellence, could not be omitted, i trust that they who are the subject of them have good sense and good temper enough not to be displeased. i have only to add, that i shall ever reflect with great pleasure on a tour, which has been the means of preserving so much of the enlightened and instructive conversation of one whose virtues will, i hope, ever be an object of imitation, and whose powers of mind were so extraordinary, that ages may revolve before such a man shall again appear. appendix. no. i. _in justice to the ingenious_ dr. blacklock, _i publish the following letter from him, relative to a passage in p. ._ 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'having lately had the pleasure of reading your account of the journey which you took with dr. samuel johnson to the western isles, i take the liberty of transmitting my ideas of the conversation which happened between the doctor and myself concerning lexicography and poetry, which, as it is a little different from the delineation exhibited in the former edition of your _journal_, cannot, i hope, be unacceptable; particularly since i have been informed that a second edition of that work is now in contemplation, if not in execution: and i am still more strongly tempted to encourage that hope, from considering that, if every one concerned in the conversations related, were to send you what they can recollect of these colloquial entertainments, many curious and interesting particulars might be recovered, which the most assiduous attention could not observe, nor the most tenacious memory retain. a little reflection, sir, will convince you, that there is not an axiom in euclid more intuitive nor more evident than the doctor's assertion that poetry was of much easier execution than lexicography. any mind therefore endowed with common sense, must have been extremely absent from itself, if it discovered the least astonishment from hearing that a poem might be written with much more facility than the same quantity of a dictionary. 'the real cause of my surprise was what appeared to me much more paradoxical, that he could write a sheet of dictionary _with as much pleasure_ as a sheet of poetry. he acknowledged, indeed, that the latter was much easier than the former. for in the one case, books and a desk were requisite; in the other, you might compose when lying in bed, or walking in the fields, &c. he did not, however, descend to explain, nor to this moment can i comprehend, how the labours of a mere philologist, in the most refined sense of that term, could give equal pleasure with the exercise of a mind replete with elevated conceptions and pathetic ideas, while taste, fancy, and intellect were deeply enamoured of nature, and in full exertion. you may likewise, perhaps, remember, that when i complained of the ground which scepticism in religion and morals was continually gaining, it did not appear to be on my own account, as my private opinions upon these important subjects had long been inflexibly determined. what i then deplored, and still deplore, was the unhappy influence which that gloomy hesitation had, not only upon particular characters, but even upon life in general; as being equally the bane of action in our present state, and of such consolations as we might derive from the hopes of a future. 'i have the pleasure of remaining with sincere esteem and respect, 'dear sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'thomas blacklock.' 'edinburgh, nov. , .' i am very happy to find that dr. blacklock's apparent uneasiness on the subject of scepticism was not on his own account, (as i supposed) but from a benevolent concern for the happiness of mankind. with respect, however, to the question concerning poetry, and composing a dictionary, i am confident that my state of dr. johnson's position is accurate. one may misconceive the motive by which a person is induced to discuss a particular topick (as in the case of dr. blacklock's speaking of scepticism); but an assertion, like that made by dr. johnson, cannot be easily mistaken. and indeed it seems not very probable, that he who so pathetically laments the _drudgery_[ ] to which the unhappy lexicographer is doomed, and is known to have written his splendid imitation of _juvenal_ with astonishing rapidity[ ], should have had 'as much pleasure in writing a sheet of a dictionary as a sheet of poetry[ ].' nor can i concur with the ingenious writer of the foregoing letter, in thinking it an axiom as evident as any in euclid, that 'poetry is of easier execution than lexicography.' i have no doubt that bailey[ ], and the 'mighty blunderbuss of law[ ],' jacob, wrote ten pages of their respective _dictionaries_ with more ease than they could have written five pages of poetry. if this book should again be reprinted, i shall with the utmost readiness correct any errours i may have committed, in stating conversations, provided it can be clearly shewn to me that i have been inaccurate. but i am slow to believe, (as i have elsewhere observed[ ]) that any man's memory, at the distance of several years, can preserve facts or sayings with such fidelity as may be done by writing them down when they are recent: and i beg it may be remembered, that it is not upon _memory_, but upon what was _written at the time_, that the authenticity of my _journal_ rests. * * * * * no. ii. verses written by sir alexander (now lord) macdonald; addressed and presented to dr. johnson, at armidale in the isle of sky[ ]. viator, o qui nostra per aequora visurus agros skiaticos venis, en te salutantes tributim undique conglomerantur oris. donaldiani,--quotquot in insulis compescit arctis limitibus mare; alitque jamdudum, ac alendos piscibus indigenas fovebit. ciere fluctus siste, procelliger, nec tu laborans perge, precor, ratis, ne conjugem plangat marita, ne doleat soboles parentem. nec te vicissim poeniteat virum luxisse;--vestro scimus ut aestuant in corde luctantes dolores, cum feriant inopina corpus. quidni! peremptum clade tuentibus plus semper illo qui moritur pati datur, doloris dum profundos pervia mens aperit recessus. valete luctus;--hinc lacrymabiles arcete visus:--ibimus, ibimus superbienti qua theatro fingaliae memorantur aulae. illustris hospes! mox spatiabere qua mens ruinae ducta meatibus gaudebit explorare coetus, buccina qua cecinit triumphos; audin? resurgens spirat anhelitu dux usitato, suscitat efficax poeta manes, ingruitque vi solitâ redivivus horror. ahaena quassans tela gravi manu sic ibat atrox ossiani pater: quiescat urnâ, stet fidelis phersonius vigil ad favillam. _preparing for the press, in one volume quarto_, the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. by _james boswell_, esq. mr. boswell has been collecting materials for this work for more than twenty years, during which he was honoured with the intimate friendship of dr. johnson; to whose memory he is ambitious to erect a literary monument, worthy of so great an authour, and so excellent a man. dr. johnson was well informed of his design, and obligingly communicated to him several curious particulars. with these will be interwoven the most authentick accounts that can be obtained from those who knew him best; many sketches of his conversation on a multiplicity of subjects, with various persons, some of them the most eminent of the age; a great number of letters from him at different periods, and several original pieces dictated by him to mr. boswell, distinguished by that peculiar energy, which marked every emanation of his mind. mr. boswell takes this opportunity of gratefully acknowledging the many valuable communications which he has received to enable him to render his _life of dr. johnson_ more complete. his thanks are particularly due to the rev. dr. adams, the rev. dr. taylor, sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, dr. brocklesby, the rev. thomas warton, mr. hector of birmingham, mrs. porter, and miss seward. he has already obtained a large collection of dr. johnson's letters to his friends, and shall be much obliged for such others as yet remain in private hands; which he is the more desirous of collecting, as all the letters of that great man, which he has yet seen, are written with peculiar precision and elegance; and he is confident that the publication of the whole of dr. johnson's epistolary correspondence will do him the highest honour. appendix a. (_page_ .) as no one reads warburton now--i bought the five volumes of his _divine legation_ in excellent condition, bound in calf, for ten pence--one or two extracts from his writing may be of interest. his dedication of that work to the free-thinkers is as vigorous as it is abusive. it has such passages as the following:--'low and mean as your buffoonery is, it is yet to the level of the people:' p. xi. 'i have now done with your buffoonery, which, like chewed bullets, is against the law of arms; and come next to your scurrilities, those stink-pots of your offensive war.' _ib. p. xxii_. on page xl. he returns again to their '_cold_ buffoonery.' in the appendix to vol. v, p. , he thus wittily replies to lowth, who had maintained that 'idolatry was punished under the dominion of melchisedec'(p. ):--'melchisedec's story is a short one; he is just brought into the scene to _bless_ abraham in his return from conquest. this promises but ill. had this _king and priest of salem_ been brought in _cursing_, it had had a better appearance: for, i think, punishment for opinions which generally ends in a _fagot_ always begins with a _curse_. but we may be misled perhaps by a wrong translation. the hebrew word to _bless_ signifies likewise to _curse_, and under the management of an intolerant priest good things easily run into their contraries. what follows is his taking _tythes_ from abraham. nor will this serve our purpose, unless we interpret these _tythes_ into _fines for non-conformity_; and then by the _blessing_ we can easily understand _absolution_. we have seen much stranger things done with the _hebrew verity_. if this be not allowed, i do not see how we can elicit fire and fagot from this adventure; for i think there is no inseparable connexion between _tythes_ and _persecution_ but in the ideas of a quaker.--and so much for king melchisedec. but the learned _professor_, who has been hardily brought up in the keen atmosphere of wholesome severities and early taught to distinguish between _de facto_ and _de jure_, thought it 'needless to enquire into _facts_, when he was secure of the _right_'. this 'keen atmosphere of wholesome severities' reappears by the way in mason's continuation of gray's ode to vicissitude:-- 'that breathes the keen yet wholesome air of rugged penury.' and later in the first book of wordsworth's _excursion_ (ed. , vi. ):-- 'the keen, the wholesome air of poverty.' johnson said of warburton: 'his abilities gave him an haughty confidence, which he disdained to conceal or mollify; and his impatience of opposition disposed him to treat his adversaries with such contemptuous superiority as made his readers commonly his enemies, and excited against the advocate the wishes of some who favoured the cause. he seems to have adopted the roman emperour's determination, _oderint dum metuant_; he used no allurements of gentle language, but wished to compel rather than persuade.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, ii. , and iv. . * * * * * appendix b. (_page_ .) johnson's ode written in sky was thus translated by lord houghton:-- 'where constant mist enshrouds the rocks, shattered in earth's primeval shocks, and niggard nature ever mocks the labourer's toil, i roam through clans of savage men, untamed by arts, untaught by pen; or cower within some squalid den o'er reeking soil. through paths that halt from stone to stone, amid the din of tongues unknown, one image haunts my soul alone, thine, gentle thrale! soothes she, i ask, her spouse's care? does mother-love its charge prepare? stores she her mind with knowledge rare, or lively tale? forget me not! thy faith i claim, holding a faith that cannot die, that fills with thy benignant name these shores of sky.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . * * * * * appendix c. (_page_ .) johnson's use of the word _big_, where he says 'i wish thy books were twice as big,' enables me to explain a passage in _the life of johnson (ante_, iii. ) which had long puzzled me. boswell there represents him as saying:--'a man who loses at play, or who runs out his fortune at court, makes his estate less, in hopes of making it _bigger_.' boswell adds in a parenthesis:--'i am sure of this word, which was often used by him.' he had been criticised by a writer in the _gent. mag_. , p. , who quoting from the text the words 'a _big_ book,' says:--'mr. boswell has made his friend (as in a few other passages) guilty of a _scotticism_. an englishman reads and writes a _large_ book, and wears a _great_ (not a _big_ or _bag_) coat.' when boswell came to publish _the life of johnson_, he took the opportunity to justify himself, though he did not care to refer directly to his anonymous critic. this explanation i discovered too late to insert in the text. a journey into north wales, in the year .[ ] tuesday, july . we left streatham a.m. price of four horses s. a mile. july . barnet . p.m. on the road i read tully's _epistles_. at night at dunstable. to lichfield, miles. to the swan[ ]. july . to mrs. porter's[ ]. to the cathedral. to mrs. aston's. to mr. green's. mr. green's museum was much admired, and mr. newton's china. july . to mr. newton's. to mrs. cobb's. dr. darwin's[ ]. i went again to mrs. aston's. she was sorry to part. july . breakfasted at mr. garrick's. visited miss vyse[ ]. miss seward. went to dr. taylor's. i read a little on the road in tully's _epistles_ and _martial_. mart. th, , 'lino pro limo[ ].' july . morning, at church. company at dinner. july . at ham[ ]. at oakover. i was less pleased with ham than when i saw it first, but my friends were much delighted. july . at chatsworth. the water willow. the cascade shot out from many spouts. the fountains[ ]. the water tree[ ]. the smooth floors in the highest rooms. atlas, fifteen hands inch and half[ ]. river running through the park. the porticoes on the sides support two galleries for the first floor. my friends were not struck with the house. it fell below my ideas of the furniture. the staircase is in the corner of the house. the hall in the corner the grandest room, though only a room of passage. on the ground-floor, only the chapel and breakfast-room, and a small library; the rest, servants' rooms and offices[ ]. a bad inn. july . at matlock. july . at dinner at oakover; too deaf to hear, or much converse. mrs. gell. the chapel at oakover. the wood of the pews grossly painted. i could not read the epitaph. would learn the old hands. july . at ashbourn. mrs. diot and her daughters came in the morning. mr. diot dined with us. we visited mr. flint. [greek: to proton moros, to de deuteron ei en erasmos, to triton ek mouson stemma mikullos echei.][ ] july . at dovedale, with mr. langley[ ] and mr. flint. it is a place that deserves a visit; but did not answer my expectation. the river is small, the rocks are grand. reynard's hall is a cave very high in the rock; it goes backward several yards, perhaps eight. to the left is a small opening, through which i crept, and found another cavern, perhaps four yards square; at the back was a breach yet smaller, which i could not easily have entered, and, wanting light, did not inspect. i was in a cave yet higher, called reynard's kitchen. there is a rock called the church, in which i saw no resemblance that could justify the name. dovedale is about two miles long. we walked towards the head of the dove, which is said to rise about five miles above two caves called the dog-holes, at the end of dovedale. in one place, where the rocks approached, i proposed to build an arch from rock to rock over the stream, with a summer-house upon it. the water murmured pleasantly among the stones. i thought that the heat and exercise mended my hearing. i bore the fatigue of the walk, which was very laborious, without inconvenience. there were with us gilpin[ ] and parker[ ]. having heard of this place before, i had formed some imperfect idea, to which it did not answer. brown[ ] says he was disappointed. i certainly expected a larger river where i found only a clear quick brook. i believe i had imaged a valley enclosed by rocks, and terminated by a broad expanse of water. he that has seen dovedale has no need to visit the highlands. in the afternoon we visited old mrs. dale. july . sunday morning, at church. afternoon, at mr. diot's. july . dined at mr. gell's[ ]. july . we went to kedleston[ ] to see lord scarsdale's new house, which is very costly, but ill contrived. the hall is very stately, lighted by three skylights; it has two rows of marble pillars, dug, as i hear from langley, in a quarry of northamptonshire; the pillars are very large and massy, and take up too much room; they were better away. behind the hall is a circular saloon, useless, and therefore ill contrived. the corridors that join the wings to the body are mere passages through segments of circles. the state bed-chamber was very richly furnished. the dining parlour was more splendid with gilt plate than any that i have seen. there were many pictures. the grandeur was all below. the bedchambers were small, low, dark, and fitter for a prison than a house of splendour. the kitchen has an opening into the gallery, by which its heat and its fumes are dispersed over the house. there seemed in the whole more cost than judgment. we went then to the silk mill at derby[ ], where i remarked a particular manner of propagating motion from a horizontal to a vertical wheel. we were desired to leave the men only two shillings. mr. thrale's bill at the inn for dinner was eighteen shillings and tenpence. at night i went to mr. langley's, mrs. wood's, captain astle, &c. july . we left ashbourn and went to buxton, thence to pool's hole, which is narrow at first, but then rises into a high arch; but is so obstructed with crags, that it is difficult to walk in it. there are two ways to the end, which is, they say, six hundred and fifty yards from the mouth. they take passengers up the higher way, and bring them back the lower. the higher way was so difficult and dangerous, that, having tried it, i desisted. i found no level part. at night we came to macclesfield, a very large town in cheshire, little known. it has a silk mill: it has a handsome church, which, however, is but a chapel, for the town belongs to some parish of another name[ ], as stourbridge lately did to old swinford. macclesfield has a town-hall, and is, i suppose, a corporate town. july . we came to congleton, where there is likewise a silk mill. then to middlewich, a mean old town, without any manufacture, but, i think, a corporation. thence we proceeded to namptwich, an old town: from the inn, i saw scarcely any but black timber houses. i tasted the brine water, which contains much more salt than the sea water. by slow evaporation, they make large crystals of salt; by quick boiling, small granulations. it seemed to have no other preparation. at evening we came to combermere[ ], so called from a wide lake. july . we went upon the mere. i pulled a bulrush of about ten feet. i saw no convenient boats upon the mere. july . we visited lord kilmorey's house[ ]. it is large and convenient, with many rooms, none of which are magnificently spacious. the furniture was not splendid. the bed-curtains were guarded[ ]. lord kilmorey shewed the place with too much exultation. he has no park, and little water[ ]. july . we went to a chapel, built by sir lynch cotton for his tenants. it is consecrated, and therefore, i suppose, endowed. it is neat and plain. the communion plate is handsome. it has iron pales and gates of great elegance, brought from lleweney, 'for robert has laid all open[ ].' we saw hawkestone, the seat of sir rowland hill, and were conducted by miss hill over a large tract of rocks and woods; a region abounding with striking scenes and terrifick grandeur. we were always on the brink of a precipice, or at the foot of a lofty rock; but the steeps were seldom naked: in many places, oaks of uncommon magnitude shot up from the crannies of stone; and where there were not tall trees, there were underwoods and bushes. round the rocks is a narrow patch cut upon the stone, which is very frequently hewn into steps; but art has proceeded no further than to make the succession of wonders safely accessible. the whole circuit is somewhat laborious; it is terminated by a grotto cut in a rock to a great extent, with many windings, and supported by pillars, not hewn into regularity, but such as imitate the sports of nature, by asperities and protuberances. the place is without any dampness, and would afford an habitation not uncomfortable. there were from space to space seats in the rock. though it wants water, it excels dovedale by the extent of its prospects, the awfulness of its shades, the horrors of its precipices, the verdure of its hollows, and the loftiness of its rocks: the ideas which it forces upon the mind are, the sublime, the dreadful, and the vast. above is inaccessible altitude, below is horrible profundity. but it excels the garden of ilam only in extent. ilam has grandeur, tempered with softness; the walker congratulates his own arrival at the place, and is grieved to think that he must ever leave it. as he looks up to the rocks, his thoughts are elevated; as he turns his eyes on the vallies, he is composed and soothed. he that mounts the precipices at hawkestone, wonders how he came thither, and doubts how he shall return. his walk is an adventure, and his departure an escape. he has not the tranquillity, but the horror, of solitude; a kind of turbulent pleasure, between fright and admiration. ilam is the fit abode of pastoral virtue, and might properly diffuse its shades over nymphs and swains. hawkestone can have no fitter inhabitants than giants of mighty bone and bold emprise[ ]; men of lawless courage and heroic violence. hawkestone should be described by milton, and ilam by parnel. miss hill shewed the whole succession of wonders with great civility. the house was magnificent, compared with the rank of the owner. july . we left combermere, where we have been treated with great civility. sir l. is gross, the lady weak and ignorant. the house is spacious, but not magnificent; built at different times, with different materials; part is of timber, part of stone or brick, plastered and painted to look like timber. it is the best house that i ever saw of that kind. the mere, or lake, is large, with a small island, on which there is a summer-house, shaded with great trees; some were hollow, and have seats in their trunks. in the afternoon we came to west-chester; (my father went to the fair, when i had the small-pox). we walked round the walls, which are compleat, and contain one mile three quarters, and one hundred and one yards; within them are many gardens: they are very high, and two may walk very commodiously side by side. on the inside is a rail. there are towers from space to space, not very frequent, and, i think, not all compleat[ ]. july . we staid at chester and saw the cathedral, which is not of the first rank. the castle. in one of the rooms the assizes are held, and the refectory of the old abbey, of which part is a grammar school. the master seemed glad to see me. the cloister is very solemn; over it are chambers in which the singing men live. in one part of the street was a subterranean arch, very strongly built; in another, what they called, i believe rightly, a roman hypocaust. chester has many curiosities. july . we entered wales, dined at mold, and came to lleweney[ ]. july . we were at lleweney. in the lawn at lleweney is a spring of fine water, which rises above the surface into a stone basin, from which it runs to waste, in a continual stream, through a pipe. there are very large trees. the hall at lleweney is forty feet long, and twenty-eight broad. the gallery one hundred and twenty feet long, (all paved.) the library forty-two feet long, and twenty-eight broad. the dining-parlours thirty-six feet long, and twenty-six broad. it is partly sashed, and partly has casements. july . we went to bâch y graig, where we found an old house, built , in an uncommon and incommodious form. my mistress[ ] chattered about tiring, but i prevailed on her to go to the top. the floors have been stolen: the windows are stopped. the house was less than i seemed to expect; the river clwyd is a brook with a bridge of one arch, about one third of a mile. the woods[ ] have many trees, generally young; but some which seem to decay. they have been lopped. the house never had a garden. the addition of another story would make an useful house, but it cannot be great. some buildings which clough, the founder, intended for warehouses, would make store-chambers and servants' rooms[ ]. the ground seems to be good. i wish it well. july . we went to church at st. asaph. the cathedral, though not large, has something of dignity and grandeur. the cross aisle is very short. it has scarcely any monuments. the quire has, i think, thirty-two stalls of antique workmanship. on the backs were canonicus, prebend, cancellarius, thesaurarius, praecentor. the constitution i do not know, but it has all the usual titles and dignities. the service was sung only in the psalms and hymns. the bishop was very civil[ ]. we went to his palace, which is but mean. they have a library, and design a room. there lived lloyd[ ] and dodwell[ ]. august . we visited denbigh, and the remains of its castle. the town consists of one main street, and some that cross it, which i have not seen. the chief street ascends with a quick rise for a great length: the houses are built, some with rough stone, some with brick, and a few are of timber. the castle, with its whole enclosure, has been a prodigious pile; it is now so ruined, that the form of the inhabited part cannot easily be traced. there are, as in all old buildings, said to be extensive vaults, which the ruins of the upper works cover and conceal, but into which boys sometimes find a way. to clear all passages, and trace the whole of what remains, would require much labour and expense. we saw a church, which was once the chapel of the castle, but is used by the town: it is dedicated to st. hilary, and has an income of about-- at a small distance is the ruin of a church said to have been begun by the great earl of leicester[ ], and left unfinished at his death. one side, and i think the east end, are yet standing. there was a stone in the wall, over the door-way, which it was said would fall and crush the best scholar in the diocese. one price would not pass under it[ ]. they have taken it down. we then saw the chapel of lleweney, founded by one of the salusburies: it is very compleat: the monumental stones lie in the ground. a chimney has been added to it, but it is otherwise not much injured, and might be easily repaired. we went to the parish church of denbigh, which, being near a mile from the town, is only used when the parish officers are chosen. in the chapel, on sundays, the service is read thrice, the second time only in english, the first and third in welsh. the bishop came to survey the castle, and visited likewise st. hilary's chapel, which is that which the town uses. the hay-barn, built with brick pillars from space to space, and covered with a roof. a more[ ] elegant and lofty hovel. the rivers here, are mere torrents which are suddenly swelled by the rain to great breadth and great violence, but have very little constant stream; such are the clwyd and the elwy. there are yet no mountains. the ground is beautifully embellished with woods, and diversified by inequalities. in the parish church of denbigh is a bas relief of lloyd the antiquary, who was before camden. he is kneeling at his prayers[ ]. august . we rode to a summer-house of mr. cotton, which has a very extensive prospect; it is meanly built, and unskilfully disposed. we went to dymerchion church, where the old clerk acknowledged his mistress. it is the parish church of bâch y graig. a mean fabrick: mr. salusbury[ ] was buried in it. bâch y graig has fourteen seats in it. as we rode by, i looked at the house again. we saw llannerch, a house not mean, with a small park very well watered. there was an avenue of oaks, which, in a foolish compliance with the present mode, has been cut down[ ]. a few are yet standing. the owner's name is davies. the way lay through pleasant lanes, and overlooked a region beautifully diversified with trees and grass[ ]. at dymerchion church there is english service only once a month. this is about twenty miles from the english border. the old clerk had great appearance of joy at the sight of his mistress, and foolishly said, that he was now willing to die. he had only a crown given him by my mistress[ ]. at dymerchion church the texts on the walls are in welsh. august . we went in the coach to holywell. talk with mistress about flattery[ ]. holywell is a market town, neither very small nor mean. the spring called winifred's well is very clear, and so copious, that it yields one hundred tuns of water in a minute. it is all at once a very great stream, which, within perhaps thirty yards of its eruption, turns a mill, and in a course of two miles, eighteen mills more. in descent, it is very quick. it then falls into the sea. the well is covered by a lofty circular arch, supported by pillars; and over this arch is an old chapel, now a school. the chancel is separated by a wall. the bath is completely and indecently open. a woman bathed while we all looked on. in the church, which makes a good appearance, and is surrounded by galleries to receive a numerous congregation, we were present while a child was christened in welsh. we went down by the stream to see a prospect, in which i had no part. we then saw a brass work, where the lapis calaminaris[ ] is gathered, broken, washed from the earth and the lead, though how the lead was separated i did not see; then calcined, afterwards ground fine, and then mixed by fire with the copper. we saw several strong fires with melting pots, but the construction of the fire-places i did not learn. at a copper-work which receives its pigs of copper, i think, from warrington, we saw a plate of copper put hot between steel rollers, and spread thin; i know not whether the upper roller was set to a certain distance, as i suppose, or acted only by its weight. at an iron-work i saw round bars formed by a knotched hammer and anvil. there i saw a bar of about half an inch, or more, square cut with shears worked by water, and then beaten hot into a thinner bar. the hammers all worked, as they were, by water, acting upon small bodies, moved very quick, as quick as by the hand. i then saw wire drawn, and gave a shilling. i have enlarged my notions[ ], though not being able to see the movements, and having not time to peep closely, i know less than i might. i was less weary, and had better breath, as i walked farther. august . ruthin castle is still a very noble ruin; all the walls still remain, so that a compleat platform, and elevations, not very imperfect, may be taken. it encloses a square of about thirty yards. the middle space was always open. the wall is, i believe, about thirty feet high, very thick, flanked with six round towers, each about eighteen feet, or less, in diameter. only one tower had a chimney, so that there was[ ] commodity of living. it was only a place of strength. the garrison had, perhaps, tents in the area. stapylton's house is pretty[ ]: there are pleasing shades about it, with a constant spring that supplies a cold bath. we then went to see a cascade. i trudged unwillingly, and was not sorry to find it dry. the water was, however, turned on, and produced a very striking cataract. they are paid an hundred pounds a year for permission to divert the stream to the mines. the river, for such it may be termed[ ], rises from a single spring, which, like that of winifred's, is covered with a building. we called then at another house belonging to mr. lloyd, which made a handsome appearance. this country seems full of very splendid houses. mrs. thrale lost her purse. she expressed so much uneasiness, that i concluded the sum to be very great; but when i heard of only seven guineas, i was glad to find that she had so much sensibility of money. i could not drink this day either coffee or tea after dinner. i know not when i missed before. august . last night my sleep was remarkably quiet. i know not whether by fatigue in walking, or by forbearance of tea[ ]. i gave the ipecacuanha[ ]. vin. emet. had failed; so had tartar emet. i dined at mr. myddleton's, of gwaynynog. the house was a gentleman's house, below the second rate, perhaps below the third, built of stone roughly cut. the rooms were low, and the passage above stairs gloomy, but the furniture was good. the table was well supplied, except that the fruit was bad. it was truly the dinner of a country gentleman. two tables were filled with company, not inelegant. after dinner, the talk was of preserving the welsh language. i offered them a scheme. poor evan evans was mentioned, as incorrigibly addicted to strong drink. worthington[ ] was commended. myddleton is the only man, who, in wales, has talked to me of literature. i wish he were truly zealous. i recommended the republication of david ap rhees's welsh grammar. two sheets of _hebrides_ came to me for correction to-day, f.g.[ ] august . i corrected the two sheets. my sleep last night was disturbed. washing at chester and here, _s_. _d_. i did not read. i saw to-day more of the out-houses at lleweney. it is, in the whole, a very spacious house. august . i was at church at bodfari. there was a service used for a sick woman, not canonically, but such as i have heard, i think, formerly at lichfield, taken out of the visitation. the church is mean, but has a square tower for the bells, rather too stately for the church. observations. dixit injustus, ps. , has no relation to the english[ ]. preserve us, lord, has the name of robert wisedome, .--barker's _bible_[ ]. battologiam ab iteratione, recte distinguit erasmus.--_mod. orandi deum_, p. - [ ]. southwell's thoughts of his own death[ ]. baudius on erasmus[ ]. august . the bishop and much company dined at lleweney. talk of greek--and of the army[ ]. the duke of marlborough's officers useless. read _phocylidis_[ ], distinguished the paragraphs. i looked in leland: an unpleasant book of mere hints. lichfield school, ten pounds; and five pounds from the hospital[ ]. august . at lloyd's, of maesmynnan; a good house, and a very large walled garden. i read windus's account of his _journey to mequinez_, and of stewart's embassy[ ]. i had read in the morning wasse's _greek trochaics to bentley_. they appeared inelegant, and made with difficulty. the latin elegy contains only common-place, hastily expressed, so far as i have read, for it is long. they seem to be the verses of a scholar, who has no practice of writing. the greek i did not always fully understand. i am in doubt about the sixth and last paragraphs, perhaps they are not printed right, for [greek: eutokon] perhaps [greek: eustochon.] q? the following days i read here and there. the _bibliotheca literaria_ was so little supplied with papers that could interest curiosity, that it could not hope for long continuance[ ]. wasse, the chief contributor, was an unpolished scholar, who, with much literature, had no art or elegance of diction, at least in english. august . at bodfari i heard the second lesson read, and the sermon preached in welsh. the text was pronounced both in welsh and english. the sound of the welsh, in a continued discourse, is not unpleasant. [greek: brosis oligae][ ]. the letter of chrysostom, against transubstantiation. erasmus to the nuns, full of mystick notions and allegories. august . imbecillitas genuum non sine aliquantulo doloris inter ambulandum quem a prandio magis sensi[ ]. august . we left lleweney, and went forwards on our journey. we came to abergeley, a mean town, in which little but welsh is spoken, and divine service is seldom performed in english. our way then lay to the sea-side, at the foot of a mountain, called penmaen rhôs. here the way was so steep, that we walked on the lower edge of the hill, to meet the coach, that went upon a road higher on the hill. our walk was not long, nor unpleasant: the longer i walk, the less i feel its inconvenience. as i grow warm, my breath mends, and i think my limbs grow pliable. we then came to conway ferry, and passed in small boats, with some passengers from the stage coach, among whom were an irish gentlewoman, with two maids, and three little children, of which, the youngest was only a few months old. the tide did not serve the large ferry-boat, and therefore our coach could not very soon follow us. we were, therefore, to stay at the inn. it is now the day of the race at conway, and the town was so full of company, that no money could purchase lodgings. we were not very readily supplied with cold dinner. we would have staid at conway if we could have found entertainment, for we were afraid of passing penmaen mawr, over which lay our way to bangor, but by bright daylight, and the delay of our coach made our departure necessarily late. there was, however, no stay on any other terms, than of sitting up all night. the poor irish lady was still more distressed. her children wanted rest. she would have been content with one bed, but, for a time, none could be had. mrs. thrale gave her what help she could. at last two gentlemen were persuaded to yield up their room, with two beds, for which she gave half a guinea. our coach was at last brought, and we set out with some anxiety, but we came to penmaen mawr by daylight; and found a way, lately made, very easy, and very safe.[ ] it was cut smooth, and enclosed between parallel walls; the outer of which secures the passenger from the precipice, which is deep and dreadful. this wall is here and there broken, by mischievous wantonness.[ ] the inner wall preserves the road from the loose stones, which the shattered steep above it would pour down. that side of the mountain seems to have a surface of loose stones, which every accident may crumble. the old road was higher, and must have been very formidable. the sea beats at the bottom of the way. at evening the moon shone eminently bright; and our thoughts of danger being now past, the rest of our journey was very pleasant. at an hour somewhat late, we came to bangor, where we found a very mean inn, and had some difficulty to obtain lodging. i lay in a room, where the other bed had two men. august . we obtained boats to convey us to anglesey, and saw lord bulkeley's house, and beaumaris castle. i was accosted by mr. lloyd, the schoolmaster of beaumaris, who had seen me at university college; and he, with mr. roberts, the register of bangor, whose boat we borrowed, accompanied us. lord bulkeley's house is very mean, but his garden garden is spacious, and shady with large trees and smaller interspersed. the walks are straight, and cross each other, with no variety of plan; but they have a pleasing coolness, and solemn gloom, and extend to a great length. the castle is a mighty pile; the outward wall has fifteen round towers, besides square towers at the angles. there is then a void space between the wall and the castle, which has an area enclosed with a wall, which again has towers, larger than those of the outer wall. the towers of the inner castle are, i think, eight. there is likewise a chapel entire, built upon an arch as i suppose, and beautifully arched with a stone roof, which is yet unbroken. the entrance into the chapel is about eight or nine feet high, and was, i suppose, higher, when there was no rubbish in the area. this castle corresponds with all the representations of romancing narratives. here is not wanting the private passage, the dark cavity, the deep dungeon, or the lofty tower. we did not discover the well. this is the most compleat view that i have yet had of an old castle.[ ] it had a moat. the towers. we went to bangor. august . we went by water from bangor to caernarvon, where we met paoli and sir thomas wynne. meeting by chance with one troughton,[ ] an intelligent and loquacious wanderer, mr. thrale invited him to dinner. he attended us to the castle, an edifice of stupendous magnitude and strength; it has in it all that we observed at beaumaris, and much greater dimensions: many of the smaller rooms floored with stone are entire; of the larger rooms, the beams and planks are all left: this is the state of all buildings left to time. we mounted the eagle tower by one hundred and sixty-nine steps, each of ten inches. we did not find the well; nor did i trace the moat; but moats there were, i believe, to all castles on the plain, which not only hindered access, but prevented mines. we saw but a very small part of this mighty ruin, and in all these old buildings, the subterraneous works are concealed by the rubbish. to survey this place would take much time: i did not think there had been such buildings; it surpassed my ideas. august . we were at church; the service in the town is always english; at the parish church at a small distance, always welsh. the town has by degrees, i suppose, been brought nearer to the sea side. we received an invitation to dr. worthington. we then went to dinner at sir thomas wynne's,--the dinner mean, sir thomas civil, his lady nothing.[ ] paoli civil. we supped with colonel wynne's lady, who lives in one of the towers of the castle. i have not been very well. august . we went to visit bodville, the place where mrs. thrale was born; and the churches called tydweilliog and llangwinodyl, which she holds by impropriation. we had an invitation to the house of mr. griffiths of bryn o dol, where we found a small neat new built house, with square rooms: the walls are of unhewn stone, and therefore thick; for the stones not fitting with exactness, are not strong without great thickness. he had planted a great deal of young wood in walks. fruit trees do not thrive; but having grown a few years, reach some barren stratum and wither. we found mr. griffiths not at home; but the provisions were good. mr. griffiths came home the next day. he married a lady who has a house and estate at [llanver], over against anglesea, and near caernarvon, where she is more disposed, as it seems, to reside than at bryn o dol. i read lloyd's account of mona, which he proves to be anglesea. in our way to bryn o dol, we saw at llanerk a church built crosswise, very spacious and magnificent for this country. we could not see the parson, and could get no intelligence about it. august . we went to see bodville. mrs. thrale remembered the rooms, and wandered over them with recollection of her childhood. this species of pleasure is always melancholy. the walk was cut down, and the pond was dry. nothing was better.[ ] we surveyed the churches, which are mean, and neglected to a degree scarcely imaginable. they have no pavement, and the earth is full of holes. the seats are rude benches; the altars have no rails. one of them has a breach in the roof. on the desk, i think, of each lay a folio welsh bible of the black letter, which the curate cannot easily read.[ ] mr. thrale purposes to beautify the churches, and if he prospers, will probably restore the tithes. the two parishes are, llangwinodyl and tydweilliog.[ ] the methodists are here very prevalent. a better church will impress the people with more reverence of publick worship. mrs. thrale visited a house where she had been used to drink milk, which was left, with an estate of two hundred pounds a year, by one lloyd, to a married woman who lived with him. we went to pwllheli, a mean old town, at the extremity of the country. here we bought something, to remember the place. august . we returned to caernarvon, where we ate with mrs. wynne. august . we visited, with mrs. wynne, llyn badarn and llyn beris, two lakes, joined by a narrow strait. they are formed by the waters which fall from snowdon and the opposite mountains. on the side of snowdon are the remains of a large fort, to which we climbed with great labour. i was breathless and harassed. the lakes have no great breadth, so that the boat is always near one bank or the other. _note_. queeny's goats, one hundred and forty-nine, i think.[ ] august . we returned to bangor, where mr. thrale was lodged at mr. roberts's, the register. august . we went to worship at the cathedral. the quire is mean, the service was not well read. august . we came to mr. myddelton's, of gwaynynog, to the first place, as my mistress observed, where we have been welcome. _note_. on the day when we visited bodville, we turned to the house of mr. griffiths, of kefnamwycllh, a gentleman of large fortune, remarkable for having made great and sudden improvements in his seat and estate. he has enclosed a large garden with a brick wall. he is considered as a man of great accomplishments. he was educated in literature at the university, and served some time in the army, then quitted his commission, and retired to his lands. he is accounted a good man, and endeavours to bring the people to church. in our way from bangor to conway, we passed again the new road upon the edge of penmaen mawr, which would be very tremendous, but that the wall shuts out the idea of danger. in the wall are several breaches, made, as mr. thrale very reasonably conjectures, by fragments of rocks which roll down the mountain, broken perhaps by frost, or worn through by rain. we then viewed conway. to spare the horses at penmaen rhôs, between conway and st. asaph, we sent the coach over the road across the mountain with mrs. thrale, who had been tired with a walk sometime before; and i, with mr. thrale and miss, walked along the edge, where the path is very narrow, and much encumbered by little loose stones, which had fallen down, as we thought, upon the way since we passed it before. at conway we took a short survey of the castle, which afforded us nothing new. it is larger than that of beaumaris, and less than that of caernarvon. it is built upon a rock so high and steep, that it is even now very difficult of access. we found a round pit, which was called the well; it is now almost filled, and therefore dry. we found the well in no other castle. there are some remains of leaden pipes at caernarvon, which, i suppose, only conveyed water from one part of the building to another. had the garrison had no other supply, the welsh, who must know where the pipes were laid, could easily have cut them. august . we came to the house of mr. myddelton, (on monday,) where we staid to september , and were very kindly entertained. how we spent our time, i am not very able to tell[ ]. we saw the wood, which is diversified and romantick. september , sunday. we dined with mr. myddelton, the clergyman, at denbigh, where i saw the harvest-men very decently dressed, after the afternoon service, standing to be hired. on other days, they stand at about four in the morning. they are hired from day to day. september . we lay at wrexham; a busy, extensive, and well built town. it has a very large and magnificent church. it has a famous fair. september . we came to chirk castle. september , thursday. we came to the house of dr. worthington[ ], at llanrhaiadr. our entertainment was poor, though his house was not bad. the situation is very pleasant, by the side of a small river, of which the bank rises high on the other side, shaded by gradual rows of trees. the gloom, the stream, and the silence, generate thoughtfulness. the town is old, and very mean, but has, i think, a market. in this house, the welsh translation of the old testament was made. the welsh singing psalms were written by archdeacon price. they are not considered as elegant, but as very literal, and accurate. we came to llanrhaiadr, through oswestry; a town not very little, nor very mean. the church, which i saw only at a distance, seems to be an edifice much too good for the present state of the place. september . we visited the waterfall, which is very high, and in rainy weather very copious. there is a reservoir made to supply it. in its fall, it has perforated a rock. there is a room built for entertainment. there was some difficulty in climbing to a near view. lord lyttelton[ ] came near it, and turned back. when we came back, we took some cold meat, and notwithstanding the doctor's importunities, went that day to shrewsbury. september . i sent for gwynn[ ], and he shewed us the town. the walls are broken, and narrower than those of chester. the town is large, and has many gentlemen's houses, but the streets are narrow. i saw taylor's library. we walked in the quarry; a very pleasant walk by the river.[ ] our inn was not bad. september . sunday. we were at st. chads, a very large and luminous church. we were on the castle hill. september . we called on dr. adams,[ ] and travelled towards worcester, through wenlock; a very mean place, though a borough. at noon, we came to bridgenorth, and walked about the town, of which one part stands on a high rock; and part very low, by the river. there is an old tower, which, being crooked, leans so much, that it is frightful to pass by it. in the afternoon we came through kinver, a town in staffordshire; neat and closely built. i believe it has only one street. the road was so steep and miry, that we were forced to stop at hartlebury, where we had a very neat inn, though it made a very poor appearance. september . we came to lord sandys's, at ombersley, where we were treated with great civility.[ ] the house is large. the hall is a very noble room. september . we went to worcester, a very splendid city. the cathedral is very noble, with many remarkable monuments. the library is in the chapter house. on the table lay the _nuremberg chronicle_, i think, of the first edition. we went to the china warehouse. the cathedral has a cloister. the long aisle is, in my opinion, neither so wide nor so high as that of lichfield. september . we went to hagley, where we were disappointed of the respect and kindness that we expected[ ]. september . we saw the house and park, which equalled my expectation. the house is one square mass. the offices are below. the rooms of elegance on the first floor, with two stories of bedchambers, very well disposed above it. the bedchambers have low windows, which abates the dignity of the house. the park has one artificial ruin[ ], and wants water; there is, however, one temporary cascade. from the farthest hill there is a very wide prospect. i went to church. the church is, externally, very mean, and is therefore diligently hidden by a plantation. there are in it several modern monuments of the lytteltons. there dined with us, lord dudley, and sir edward lyttelton, of staffordshire, and his lady. they were all persons of agreeable conversation. i found time to reflect on my birthday, and offered a prayer, which i hope was heard. september . we made haste away from a place, where all were offended[ ]. in the way we visited the leasowes[ ]. it was rain, yet we visited all the waterfalls. there are, in one place, fourteen falls in a short line. it is the next place to ham gardens[ ]. poor shenstone never tasted his pension. it is not very well proved that any pension was obtained for him. i am afraid that he died of misery[ ]. we came to birmingham, and i sent for wheeler, whom i found well. september . we breakfasted with wheeler,[ ] and visited the manufacture of papier maché. the paper which they use is smooth whited brown; the varnish is polished with rotten stone. wheeler gave me a tea-board. we then went to boulton's,[ ] who, with great civility, led us through his shops. i could not distinctly see his enginery. twelve dozen of buttons for three shillings.[ ] spoons struck at once. september . wheeler came to us again. we came easily to woodstock. september . we saw blenheim and woodstock park.[ ] the park contains two thousand five hundred acres; about four square miles. it has red deer. mr. bryant[ ] shewed me the library with great civility. _durandi rationale_, [ ]. lascaris' _grammar_ of the first edition, well printed, but much less than later editions[ ]. the first _batrachomyomachia_[ ]. the duke sent mr. thrale partridges and fruit. at night we came to oxford. september . we visited mr. coulson[ ]. the ladies wandered about the university. september . we dine with mr. coulson. vansittart[ ] told me his distemper. afterwards we were at burke's, where we heard of the dissolution of the parliament. we went home[ ]. footnotes: [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note , and iii. . [ ] his _account of corsica_, published in . [ ] horace walpole wrote on nov. , (_letters_, v. ):--'i found paoli last week at court. the king and queen both took great notice of him. he has just made a tour to bath, oxford, &c., and was everywhere received with much distinction.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell, when in london, was 'his constant guest.' ante, iii . [ ] boswell's son james says that 'in mr. malone was shewn at mr. baldwin's printing-house a sheet of the _tour to the hebrides_ which contained johnson's character. he was so much struck with the spirit and fidelity of the portrait that he requested to be introduced to its writer. from this period a friendship took place between them, which ripened into the strictest and most cordial intimacy. after mr. boswell's death in mr. malone continued to shew every mark of affectionate attention towards his family.' _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] malone began his edition of _shakespeare_ in ; he brought it out in . prior's _malone_, pp. , . [ ] boswell in the 'advertisement' to the second edition, dated dec. , , says that 'the whole of the first impression has been sold in a few weeks.' three editions were published within a year, but the fourth was not issued till . a german translation was published in lübeck in . i believe that in no language has a translation been published of the _life of johnson_. johnson was indeed, as boswell often calls him, 'a trueborn englishman'--so english that foreigners could neither understand him nor relish his _life_. [ ] the man thus described is james i. [ ] see _ante_, i. and ii. . [ ] _a journey to the western islands of scotland_. johnson's _works_ ix. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . on a copy of martin in the advocates' library [edinburgh] i found the following note in the handwriting of mr. boswell:--'this very book accompanied mr. samuel johnson and me in our tour to the hebrides.' upcott. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] macbeth, act i. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, nov. . [ ] our friend edmund burke, who by this time had received some pretty severe strokes from dr. johnson, on account of the unhappy difference in their politicks, upon my repeating this passage to him, exclaimed 'oil of vitriol !' boswell. [ ] _psalms_, cxli. . [ ] 'we all love beattie,' he had said. _ante_, ii. . [ ] this, i find, is a scotticism. i should have said, 'it will not be long before we shall be at marischal college.' boswell. in spite of this warning sir walter scott fell into the same error. 'the light foot of mordaunt was not long of bearing him to jarlok [jarlshof].' _pirate_, ch. viii. croker. beattie was professor of moral philosophy and logic in marischal college. [ ] 'nil mihi rescribas; attamen ipse veni.' ovid, _heroides_, i. . boswell liked to display such classical learning as he had. when he visited eton in he writes, 'i was asked by the head-master to dine at the fellows' table, and made a creditable figure. i certainly have the art of making the most of what i have. how should one who has had only a scotch education be quite at home at eton? i had my classical quotations very ready.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] gray, johnson writes (_works_, viii. ), visited scotland in . 'he naturally contracted a friendship with dr. beattie, whom he found a poet,' &c. [ ] _post_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] afterwards lord stowell. he, his brother lord eldon, and chambers were all newcastle men. see _ante_, i. , for an anecdote of the journey and for a note on 'the commons.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. iii. [ ] baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'the most unaccountable part of johnson's character was his total ignorance of the character of his most familiar acquaintance.' [ ] lord pembroke said once to me at wilton, with a happy pleasantry, and some truth, that 'dr. johnson's sayings would not appear so extraordinary, were it not for his _bow-wow way_:' but i admit the truth of this only on some occasions. the _messiah_, played upon the _canterbury organ_, is more sublime than when played upon an inferior instrument, but very slight musick will seem grand, when conveyed to the ear through that majestick medium. _while therefore dr. johnson's sayings are read, let his manner be taken along with them_. let it, however, be observed, that the sayings themselves are generally great; that, though he might be an ordinary composer at times, he was for the most part a handel. boswell. see _ante_, ii. , , and under aug. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] such they appeared to me; but since the first edition, sir joshua reynolds has observed to me, 'that dr. johnson's extraordinary gestures were only habits, in which he indulged himself at certain times. when in company, where he was not free, or when engaged earnestly in conversation, he never gave way to such habits, which proves that they were not involuntary.' i still however think, that these gestures were involuntary; for surely had not that been the case, he would have restrained them in the publick streets. boswell. see _ante_, i. . [ ] by an act of the th of george i. for encouraging the consumption of raw silk and mohair, buttons and button-holes made of cloth, serge, and other stuffs were prohibited. in a petition was presented to parliament stating that 'in evasion of this act buttons and button-holes were made of horse-hair to the impoverishing of many thousands and prejudice of the woollen manufactures.' an act was brought in to prohibit the use of horse-hair, and was only thrown out on the third reading. _parl. hist._ x. . [ ] boswell wrote to erskine on dec. , : 'i, james boswell esq., who "am happily possessed of a facility of manners"--to use the very words of mr. professor [adam] smith, which upon honour were addressed to me.' _boswell and erskine corres_. ed. , p. . [ ] _post_, oct. . [ ] _hamlet_, act iii, sc. . [ ] see _ante_, iv., march , . johnson is often reproached with his dislike of the scotch, though much of it was assumed; but no one blames hume's dislike of the english, though it was deep and real. on feb. , , he wrote:--'our government is too perfect in point of liberty for so rude a beast as an englishman; who is a man, a bad animal too, corrupted by above a century of licentiousness.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . dr. burton writes of the english as 'a people hume so heartily disliked.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] the term _john bull_ came into the english language in , when dr. arbuthnot wrote _the history of john bull_. [ ] boswell in three other places so describes johnson. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'all nations, and kindreds, and people, and tongues.' _rev_. vii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. [ ] in cockburn's _life of jeffrey_, i. , there is a description of edinburgh, towards the close of the century, 'the last purely scotch age that scotland was destined to see. almost the whole official state, as settled at the union, survived; and all graced the capital, unconscious of the economical scythe which has since mowed it down. all our nobility had not then fled. the lawyers, instead of disturbing good company by professional matter, were remarkably free of this vulgarity; and being trained to take difference of opinion easily, and to conduct discussions with forbearance, were, without undue obtrusion, the most cheerful people that were to be met with. philosophy had become indigenous in the place, and all classes, even in their gayest hours, were proud of the presence of its cultivators. and all this was still a scotch scene. the whole country had not begun to be absorbed in the ocean of london. according to the modern rate of travelling [written in ] the capitals of scotland and of england were then about miles asunder. edinburgh was still more distant in its style and habits. it had then its own independent tastes, and ideas, and pursuits.' scotland at this time was distinguished by the liberality of mind of its leading clergymen, which was due, according to dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p ), to the fact that the professor of theology under whom they had studied was 'dull and dutch and prolix.' 'there was one advantage,' he says, 'attending the lectures of a dull professor--viz., that he could form no school, and the students were left entirely to themselves, and naturally formed opinions far more liberal than those they got from the professor.' [ ] chambers (_traditions of edinburgh_, ed. , ii. ) says that 'the very spot which johnson's armchair occupied is pointed out by the modern possessors.' the inn was called 'the white horse.' 'it derives its name from having been the resort of the hanoverian faction, the white horse being the crest of hanover.' murray's _guide to scotland_, ed. , p. . [ ] boswell writing of scotland says:--'in the last age it was the common practice in the best families for all the company to eat milk, or pudding, or any other dish that is eat with a spoon, not by distributing the contents of the dish into small plates round the table, but by every person dipping his spoon into the large platter; and when the fashion of having a small plate for each guest was brought from the continent by a young gentleman returned from his travels, a good old inflexible neighbour in the country said, "he did not see anything he had learnt but to take his broth twice." nay, in our own remembrance, the use of a carving knife was considered as a novelty; and a gentleman of ancient family and good literature used to rate his son, a friend of mine, for introducing such a foppish superfluity.'--_london mag_. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . johnson, in describing sir a. macdonald's house in sky, said:--'the lady had not the common decencies of her tea-table; we picked up our sugar with our fingers.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] chambers says that 'james's court, till the building of the new town, was inhabited by a select set of gentlemen. they kept a clerk to record their names and their proceedings, had a scavenger of their own, and had balls and assemblies among themselves.' paoli was boswell's guest there in . _traditions of edinburgh_, i. . it was burnt down in . murray's _guide to scotland_, ed. , p. . johnson wrote:--'boswell has very handsome and spacious rooms, level with the ground on one side of the house, and on the other four stories high.' _piozzi letters_, i. . dr. j.h. burton says that hume occupied them just before boswell. he continues:--'of the first impression made on a stranger at that period when entering such a house, a vivid description is given by sir walter scott in _guy mannering_; and in counsellor pleydell's library, with its collection of books, and the prospect from the window, we have probably an accurate picture of the room in which hume spent his studious hours.' _life of hume_, ii. , . at johnson's visit hume was living in his new house in the street which was humorously named after him, st. david street. _ib_. p. . [ ] the english servant-girl in _humphry clinker_ (letter of july ), after describing how the filth is thus thrown out, says:--'the maid calls _gardy loo_ to the passengers, which signifies _lord have mercy upon you!_' [ ] wesley, when at edinburgh in may, , writes:--'how can it be suffered that all manner of filth should still be thrown even into this street [high street] continually? how long shall the capital city of scotland, yea, and the chief street of it, stink worse than a common sewer?' wesley's _journal_, iii. . baretti (_journey from london to genoa_, ii. ) says that this was the universal practice in madrid in . he was driven out of that town earlier than he had intended to leave it by the dreadful stench. a few years after his visit the king made a reform, so that it became 'one of the cleanest towns in europe.' _ib_. p . smollett in _humphry clinker_ makes matthew bramble say (letter of july ):--'the inhabitants of edinburgh are apt to imagine the disgust that we avow is little better than affectation.' [ ] 'most of their buildings are very mean; and the whole town bears some resemblance to the old part of birmingham.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] miss burney, describing her first sight of johnson, says:--'upon asking my father why he had not prepared us for such uncouth, untoward strangeness, he laughed heartily, and said he had entirely forgotten that the same impression had been at first made upon himself; but had been lost even on the second interview.' _memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, aug. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] boswell writes, in his _hypochondriacks_:--'naturally somewhat singular, independent of any additions which affectation and vanity may perhaps have made, i resolved to have a more pleasing species of marriage than common, and bargained with my bride that i should not be bound to live with her longer than i really inclined; and that whenever i tired of her domestic society i should be at liberty to give it up. eleven years have elapsed, and i have never yet wished to take advantage of my stipulated privilege.' _london mag_. , p. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] sir walter scott was two years old this day. he was born in a house at the head of the college wynd. when johnson and boswell returned to edinburgh jeffrey was a baby there seventeen days old. some seventeen or eighteen years later 'he had the honour of assisting to carry the biographer of johnson, in a state of great intoxication, to bed. for this he was rewarded next morning by mr. boswell clapping his head, and telling him that he was a very promising lad, and that if "you go on as you've begun, you may live to be a bozzy yourself yet."' cockburn's _jeffrey_, i. . [ ] he was one of boswell's executors, and as such was in part responsible for the destruction of his manuscripts. _ante_, iii. , note i. it is to his _life of dr. beattie_ that scott alludes in the introduction to the fourth canto of _marmion_:-- 'scarce had lamented forbes paid the tribute to his minstrel's shade; the tale of friendship scarce was told, ere the narrator's heart was cold-- far may we search before we find a heart so manly and so kind.' it is only of late years that _forbes_ has generally ceased to be a dissyllable. [ ] the saint's name of _veronica_ was introduced into our family through my great grandmother veronica, countess of kincardine, a dutch lady of the noble house of sommelsdyck, of which there is a full account in bayle's _dictionary_. the family had once a princely right in surinam. the governour of that settlement was appointed by the states general, the town of amsterdam, and sommelsdyck. the states general have acquired sommelsdyck's right; but the family has still great dignity and opulence, and by intermarriages is connected with many other noble families. when i was at the hague, i was received with all the affection of kindred. the present sommelsdyck has an important charge in the republick, and is as worthy a man as lives. he has honoured me with his correspondence for these twenty years. my great grandfather, the husband of countess veronica, was alexander, earl of kincardine, that eminent _royalist_ whose character is given by burnet in his _history of his own times_. from him the blood of _bruce_ flows in my veins. of such ancestry who would not be proud? and, as _nihil est, nisi hoc sciat alter_, is peculiarly true of genealogy, who would not be glad to seize a fair opportunity to let it be known. boswell. boswell visited holland in . _ante_, i. . burnet says that 'the earl was both the wisest and the worthiest man that belonged to his country, and fit for governing any affairs but his own; which he by a wrong turn, and by his love for the public, neglected to his ruin. his thoughts went slow and his words came much slower; but a deep judgment appeared in everything he said or did. i may be, perhaps, inclined to carry his character too far; for he was the first man that entered into friendship with me.' burnet's _history_, ed. , i. iii. 'the ninth earl succeeded as fifth earl of elgin and thus united the two dignities.' burke's _peerage_. boswell's quotation is from persius, _satires_, i. : 'scire tuum nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter.' it is the motto to _the spectator_, no. . [ ] she died four months after her father. i cannot find that she received this additional fortune. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . johnson (_works_, ix. ) speaks of 'the general dissatisfaction which is now driving the highlanders into the other hemisphere.' this dissatisfaction chiefly arose from the fact that the chiefs were 'gradually degenerating from patriarchal rulers to rapacious landlords.' _ib._ p. . 'that the people may not fly from the increase of rent i know not whether the general good does not require that the landlords be, for a time, restrained in their demands, and kept quiet by pensions proportionate to their loss.... it affords a legislator little self-applause to consider, that where there was formerly an insurrection there is now a wilderness.' _ib._ p. . 'as the world has been let in upon the people, they have heard of happier climates and less arbitrary government.' _ib._ p. . [ ] 'to a man that ranges the streets of london, where he is tempted to contrive wants for the pleasure of supplying them, a shop affords no image worthy of attention; but in an island it turns the balance of existence between good and evil. to live in perpetual want of little things is a state, not indeed of torture, but of constant vexation. i have in sky had some difficulty to find ink for a letter; and if a woman breaks her needle, the work is at a stop.' _ib._ p. . [ ] 'it was demolished in .' chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, i. . [ ] 'the lord reigneth; let the earth rejoice; let the multitude of isles be glad thereof.' _psalms_, xcvii. . [ ] a brief memoir of mr. carre is given in forbes's _life of beattie_, appendix z. [ ] it was his daughter who gave the name to the new street in which hume had taken a house by chalking on his wall st. david street. 'hume's "lass," judging that it was not meant in honour or reverence, ran into the house much excited, to tell her master how he was made game of. "never mind, lassie," he said; "many a better man has been made a saint of before."' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] the house of lords reversed the decision of the court of session in this cause. see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] ogden was woodwardian professor at cambridge. the sermons were published in . boswell mentions them so often that in rowlandson's caricatures of the tour he is commonly represented as having them in his hand or pocket. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'talking of the eminent writers in queen anne's reign, johnson observed, "i think dr. arbuthnot the first man among them.'" _ante_, i. . [ ] 'we found that by the interposition of some invisible friend lodgings had been provided for us at the house of one of the professors, whose easy civility quickly made us forget that we were strangers.' _works_, ix. . [ ] he is referring to beattie's _essay on truth_. see _post_, oct. , and _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson, again speaking of hume, and perhaps of gibbon, says:--'when a man voluntarily engages in an important controversy, he is to do all he can to lessen his antagonist, because authority from personal respect has much weight with most people, and often more than reasoning.' [ ] johnson, in his dictionary, calls _bubble_ 'a cant [slang] word.' [ ] boswell wrote to temple in :--'david [hume] is really amiable: i always regret to him his unlucky principles, and he smiles at my faith; but i have a hope which he has not, or pretends not to have. so who has the best of it, my reverend friend?' _letters of boswell_, p. . dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. pp. - ) says:--'mr. hume gave both elegant dinners and suppers, and the best claret, and, which was best of all, he furnished the entertainment with the most instructive and pleasing conversation, for he assembled whosoever were most knowing and agreeable among either the laity or clergy. for innocent mirth and agreeable raillery i never knew his match....he took much to the company of the younger clergy, not from a wish to bring them over to his opinions, for he never attempted to overturn any man's principles, but they best understood his notions, and could furnish him with literary conversation.' [ ] no doubt they were destroyed with boswell's other papers. _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] this letter, though shattered by the sharp shot of dr. _horne_ of _oxford's_ wit, in the character of _one of the people called christians_, is still prefixed to mr. hume's excellent _history of england_, like a poor invalid on the piquet guard, or like a list of quack medicines sold by the same bookseller, by whom a work of whatever nature is published; for it has no connection with his _history_, let it have what it may with what are called his _philosophical_ works. a worthy friend of mine in london was lately consulted by a lady of quality, of most distinguished merit, what was the best history of england for her son to read. my friend recommended hume's. but, upon recollecting that its usher was a superlative panegyrick on one, who endeavoured to sap the credit of our holy religion, he revoked his recommendation. i am really sorry for this ostentatious _alliance_; because i admire _the theory of moral sentiments_, and value the greatest part of _an inquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of nations_. why should such a writer be so forgetful of human comfort, as to give any countenance to that dreary infidelity which would make us poor indeed?' ['makes me poor indeed.' _othello_, act iii. sc. ]. boswell. dr. horne's book is entitled, _a letter to adam smith, ll.d., on the life, death, and philosophy of his friend david hume, esq. by one of the people called christians_. its chief wit is in the preface. the bookseller mentioned in this note was perhaps francis newbery, who succeeded his father, goldsmith's publisher, as a dealer in quack medicines and books. they dealt in 'over thirty different nostrums,' and published books of every nature. of the father johnson said:--'newbery is an extraordinary man, for i know not whether he has read or written most books.' he is the original of 'jack whirler' in _the idler_, no. . _a bookseller of the last century_, pp. , . [ ] hume says that his first work, his _treatise of human nature_, 'fell _dead-born from the press.' auto._ p. . his _enquiry concerning human understanding_ 'was entirely overlooked and neglected.' _ib_. p. . his _enquiry concerning the principles of morals_ 'came unnoticed and unobserved into the world.' _ib_. p. . the first volume of his _history of england_ certainly met with numerous assailants; but 'after the first ebullitions of their fury were over, what was still more mortifying, the book seemed to sink into oblivion. mr. millar told me,' he continues, 'that in a twelvemonth he sold only forty-five copies of it...i was i confess, discouraged, and had not the war at that time been breaking out between france and england, i had certainly retired to some provincial town of the former kingdom, have changed my name, and never more have returned to my native country.' _ib_. p. . only one of his works, his _political discourses_, was 'successful on the first publication.' _ib_. p. . by the time he was turned fifty, however, his books were selling very well, and he had become 'not only independent but opulent.' ib. p. . a few weeks before he died he wrote: 'i see many symptoms of my literary reputation's breaking out at last with additional lustre.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _psalms_, cxix. . [ ] we learn, _post_, oct. , that robertson was cautious in his talk, though we see here that he had much more courage than the professors of aberdeen or glasgow. [ ] this was one of the points upon which dr. johnson was strangely heterodox. for, surely, mr. burke, with his other remarkable qualities, is also distinguished for his wit, and for wit of all kinds too: not merely that power of language which pope chooses to denominate wit:-- (true wit is nature to advantage drest; what oft was thought, but ne'er so well exprest.) [pope's essay on criticism, ii. .] but surprising allusions, brilliant sallies of vivacity, and pleasant conceits. his speeches in parliament are strewed with them. take, for instance, the variety which he has given in his wide range, yet exact detail, when exhibiting his reform bill. and his conversation abounds in wit. let me put down a specimen. i told him, i had seen, at a _blue stocking_ assembly, a number of ladies sitting round a worthy and tall friend of ours, listening to his literature. 'ay, (said he) like maids round a may-pole.' i told him, i had found out a perfect definition of human nature, as distinguished from the animal. an ancient philosopher said, man was 'a two-legged animal without feathers,' upon which his rival sage had a cock plucked bare, and set him down in the school before all the disciples, as a 'philosophick man.' dr. franklin said, man was 'a tool-making animal,' which is very well; for no animal but man makes a thing, by means of which he can make another thing. but this applies to very few of the species. my definition of _man_ is, 'a cooking animal.' the beasts have memory, judgment, and all the faculties and passions of our mind in a certain degree; but no beast is a cook. the trick of the monkey using the cat's paw to roast a chestnut, is only a piece of shrewd malice in that _turpissima bestia_, which humbles us so sadly by its similarity to us. man alone can dress a good dish; and every man whatever is more or less a cook, in seasoning what he himself eats. your definition is good, said mr. burke, and i now see the full force of the common proverb, 'there is _reason_ in roasting of eggs.' when mr. wilkes, in his days of tumultuous opposition, was borne upon the shoulders of the mob, mr. burke (as mr. wilkes told me himself, with classical admiration,) applied to him what _horace_ says of _pindar_, ..._numeris_que fertur lege _solutis_. [_odes_, iv. . .] sir joshua reynolds, who agrees with me entirely as to mr. burke's. fertility of wit, said, that this was 'dignifying a pun.' he also observed, that he has often heard burke say, in the course of an evening, ten good things, each of which would have served a noted wit (whom he named) to live upon for a twelvemonth. i find, since the former edition, that some persons have objected to the instances which i have given of mr. burke's wit, as not doing justice to my very ingenious friend; the specimens produced having, it is alleged, more of conceit than real wit, and being merely sportive sallies of the moment, not justifying the encomium which, they think with me, he undoubtedly merits. i was well aware, how hazardous it was to exhibit particular instances of wit, which is of so airy and spiritual a nature as often to elude the hand that attempts to grasp it. the excellence and efficacy of a _bon mot_ depend frequently so much on the occasion on which it is spoken, on the particular manner of the speaker, on the person to whom it is applied, the previous introduction, and a thousand minute particulars which cannot be easily enumerated, that it is always dangerous to detach a witty saying from the group to which it belongs, and to set it before the eye of the spectator, divested of those concomitant circumstances, which gave it animation, mellowness, and relief. i ventured, however, at all hazards, to put down the first instances that occurred to me, as proofs of mr. burke's lively and brilliant fancy; but am very sensible that his numerous friends could have suggested many of a superior quality. indeed, the being in company with him, for a single day, is sufficient to shew that what i have asserted is well founded; and it was only necessary to have appealed to all who know him intimately, for a complete refutation of the heterodox opinion entertained by dr. johnson on this subject. _he_ allowed mr. burke, as the reader will find hereafter [_post_. sept. and ], to be a man of consummate and unrivalled abilities in every light except that now under consideration; and the variety of his allusions, and splendour of his imagery, have made such an impression on _all the rest_ of the world, that superficial observers are apt to overlook his other merits, and to suppose that _wit_ is his chief and most prominent excellence; when in fact it is only one of the many talents that he possesses, which are so various and extraordinary, that it is very difficult to ascertain precisely the rank and value of each. boswell. for malone's share in this note, see _ante_, iii. , note . for burke's economical reform bill, which was brought in on feb. , , see prior's _burke_, p. . for _blue stocking_, see _ante_, iv. . the 'tall friend of ours' was mr. langton (_ante_, i. ). for franklin's definition, see _ante_, iii. , and for burke's classical pun, _ib_. p. . for burke's 'talent of wit,' see _ante_, i. , iii. , iv. may , , and _post_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , where burke said:--'it is enough for me to have rung the bell to him [johnson].' [ ] see _ante_, vol. iv, may , . [ ] prior (_life of burke_, pp. , ) says that 'from the first his destination was the bar.' his name was entered at the middle temple in , but he was never called. why he gave up the profession his biographer cannot tell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] that cannot be said now, after the flagrant part which mr. _john wesley_ took against our american brethren, when, in his own name, he threw amongst his enthusiastick flock, the very individual combustibles of dr. _johnson's taxation no tyranny_; and after the intolerant spirit which he manifested against our fellow-christians of the roman catholick communion, for which that able champion, father _o'leary_, has given him so hearty a drubbing. but i should think myself very unworthy, if i did not at the same time acknowledge mr. john wesley's merit, as a veteran 'soldier of jesus christ' [ _timothy_, ii. ], who has, i do believe, 'turned many from darkness into light, and from the power of _satan_ to the living god' [_acts_, xxvi. ]. boswell. wesley wrote on nov. , (_journal_, iv. ), 'i made some additions to the _calm address to our american colonies_. need any one ask from what motive this was wrote? let him look round; england is in a flame! a flame of malice and rage against the king, and almost all that are in authority under him. i labour to put out this flame.' he wrote a few days later:--'as to reviewers, news-writers, _london magazines_, and all that kind of gentlemen, they behave just as i expected they would. and let them lick up mr. toplady's spittle still; a champion worthy of their cause.' _journal_, p. . in a letter published in jan. , he said:--'i insist upon it, that no government, not roman catholic, ought to tolerate men of the roman catholic persuasion. they ought not to be tolerated by any government, protestant, mahometan, or pagan.' to this the rev. arthur o'leary replied with great wit and force, in a pamphlet entitled, _remarks on the rev. mr. wesley's letters_. dublin, . wesley (_journal_, iv. ) mentions meeting o'leary, and says:--'he seems not to be wanting either in sense or learning.' johnson wrote to wesley on feb. , (croker's _boswell_, p. ), 'i have thanks to return you for the addition of your important suffrage to my argument on the american question. to have gained such a mind as yours may justly confirm me in my own opinion. what effect my paper has upon the public, i know not; but i have no reason to be discouraged. the lecturer was surely in the right, who, though he saw his audience slinking away, refused to quit the chair while plato staid.' [ ] 'powerful preacher as he was,' writes southey, 'he had neither strength nor acuteness of intellect, and his written compositions are nearly worthless.' southey's _wesley,_ i. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mr. burke. see _ante_, ii. , , note , and iii. . [ ] if due attention were paid to this observation, there would be more virtue, even in politicks. what dr. johnson justly condemned, has, i am sorry to say, greatly increased in the present reign. at the distance of four years from this conversation, st february, , my lord archbishop of york, in his 'sermon before the society for the propagation of the gospel in foreign parts,' thus indignantly describes the then state of parties:--'parties once had a _principle_ belonging to them, absurd perhaps, and indefensible, but still carrying a notion of _duty_, by which honest minds might easily be caught. 'but there are now _combinations_ of _individuals_, who, instead of being the sons and servants of the community, make a league for advancing their _private interests_. it is their business to hold high the notion of _political honour_. i believe and trust, it is not injurious to say, that such a bond is no better than that by which the lowest and wickedest combinations are held together; and that it denotes the last stage of political depravity.' to find a thought, which just shewed itself to us from the mind of _johnson_, thus appearing again at such a distance of time, and without any communication between them, enlarged to full growth in the mind of _markham_, is a curious object of philosophical contemplation.--that two such great and luminous minds should have been so dark in one corner,--that _they_ should have held it to be 'wicked rebellion in the british subjects established in america, to resist the abject condition of holding all their property at the mercy of british subjects remaining at home, while their allegiance to our common lord the king was to be preserved inviolate,--is a striking proof to me, either that 'he who sitteth in heaven' [_psalms_, ii. ] scorns the loftiness of human pride,--or that the evil spirit, whose personal existence i strongly believe, and even in this age am confirmed in that belief by a _fell_, nay, by a _hurd_, has more power than some choose to allow. boswell. horace walpole writing on june , , after censuring robertson for sneering at las casas, continues:--'could archbishop markham in a sermon before the society for the propagation of the gospel by fire and sword paint charity in more contemptuous terms? it is a christian age.' _letters_, vii. . it was archbishop markham to whom johnson made the famous bow; _ante_, vol. iv, just before april , . john fell published in _demoniacs; an enquiry into the heathen and scripture doctrine of daemons_. for hurd see _ante_, under june , . [ ] see forster's _essays_, ii - . mr. forster often quotes cooke in his _life of goldsmith_. he describes him (i. ) as 'a _young_ irish law student who had chambers near goldsmith in the temple.' goldsmith did not reside in the temple till (_ib_. p. ), and cooke was old enough to have published his _hesiod_ in , and to have found a place in _the dunciad_ (ii. ). see elwin and courthope's _pope_, x. , for his correspondence with pope. [ ] it may be observed, that i sometimes call my great friend, _mr_. johnson, sometimes _dr_. johnson: though he had at this time a doctor's degree from trinity college, dublin. the university of oxford afterwards conferred it upon him by a diploma, in very honourable terms. it was some time before i could bring myself to call him doctor; but, as he has been long known by that title, i shall give it to him in the rest of this journal. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note , and ii. , note i. [ ] in _the idler_, no. viii, johnson has the following fling at tragedians. he had mentioned the terror struck into our soldiers by the indian war-cry, and he continues:--'i am of opinion that by a proper mixture of asses, bulls, turkeys, geese, and tragedians a noise might be procured equally horrid with the war-cry.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _tom jones_, bk. xvi. chap. . mme. necker in a letter to garrick said:--'nos acteurs se métamorphosent assez bien, mais monsieur garrick fait autre chose; il nous métamorphose tous dans le caractère qu'il a revêtu; _nous sommes remplis de terreur avec hamlet_,' &c. _garrick corres_. ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] euphan m'cullan (not eupham macallan) is mentioned in dalrymple's [lord hailes] _remarks on the history of scotland_, p. . she maintained that 'she seldom ever prayed but she got a positive answer.' the minister of her parish was ill. 'she prayed, and got an answer that for a year's time he should be spared; and after the year's end he fell sick again.' 'i went,' said she, 'to pray yet again for his life; but the lord left me not an mouse's likeness (a proverbial expression, meaning _to reprove with such severity that the person reproved shrinks and becomes abashed_), and said, 'beast that thou art! shall i keep my servant in pain for thy sake?' and when i said, 'lord, what then shall i do?' he answered me, 'he was but a reed that i spoke through, and i will provide another reed to speak through.' dalrymple points out that it was a belief in these 'answers from the lord' that led john balfour and his comrades to murder archbishop sharp. [ ] r. chambers, in his _traditions_, speaking of the time of johnson's visit, says (i. ) on the authority of 'an ancient native of edinburgh that people all knew each other by sight. the appearance of a new face upon the streets was at once remarked, and numbers busied themselves in finding out who and what the stranger was.' [ ] it was on this visit to the parliament-house, that mr. henry erskine (brother of lord erskine), after being presented to dr. johnson by mr. boswell, and having made his bow, slipped a shilling into boswell's hand, whispering that it was for the sight of his _bear_. walter scott. [ ] this is one of the libraries entitled to a copy of every new work published in the united kingdom. hume held the office of librarian at a salary of £ a year from to . j.h. burton's _hume_, i. , . [ ] the edinburgh oyster-cellars were called _laigh shops_. chambers's _traditions_, ii. . [ ] this word is commonly used to signify _sullenly, gloomily_; and in that sense alone it appears in dr. johnson's _dictionary_. i suppose he meant by it, 'with an _obstinate resolution_, similar to that of a sullen man.' boswell. southey wrote to scott:--'give me more lays, and correct them at leisure for after editions--not laboriously, but when the amendment comes naturally and unsought for. it never does to sit down doggedly to _correct_.' southey's _life_, iii. . see _ante_, i. , for the influence of seasons on composition. [ ] boswell, _post_, nov. , writes of '_old scottish_ enthusiasm,' again italicising these two words. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] cockburn (_life of jeffrey_, i. ) writing of the beginning of this century, describes how the general assembly 'met in those days, as it had done for about years, in one of the aisles of the then grey and venerable cathedral of st. giles. that plain, square, galleried apartment was admirably suited for the purpose; and it was more interesting from the men who had acted in it, and the scenes it had witnessed, than any other existing room in scotland. it had beheld the best exertions of the best men in the kingdom ever since the year . yet was it obliterated in the year with as much indifference as if it had been of yesterday; and for no reason except a childish desire for new walls and change.' [ ] i have hitherto called him dr. william robertson, to distinguish him from dr. james robertson, who is soon to make his appearance. but _principal_, from his being the head of our college, is his usual designation, and is shorter: so i shall use it hereafter. boswell. [ ] the dirtiness of the scotch churches is taken off in _the tale of a tub_, sect. xi:--'neither was it possible for the united rhetoric of mankind to prevail with jack to make himself clean again.' in _humphry clinker_ (letter of aug. ) we are told that 'the good people of edinburgh no longer think dirt and cobwebs essential to the house of god.' bishop horne (_essays and thoughts_, p. ) mentioning 'the maxim laid down in a neighbouring kingdom that _cleanliness is not essential to devotion_,' continues, 'a church of england lady once offered to attend the kirk there, if she might be permitted to have the pew swept and lined. "the pew swept and lined!" said mess john's wife, "my husband would think it downright popery."' in he wrote that there are country churches in england 'where, perhaps, three or four noble families attend divine service, which are suffered year after year to be in a condition in which not one of those families would suffer the worst room in their house to continue for a week.' _essays and thoughts_, p. . [ ] 'hume recommended fergusson's friends to prevail on him to suppress the work as likely to be injurious to his reputation.' when it had great success he said that his opinion remained the same. he had heard helvetius and saurin say that they had told montesquieu that he ought to suppress his _esprit des lois_. they were still convinced that their advice was right. j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. - . it was at fergusson's house thirteen years later that walter scott, a lad of fifteen, saw burns shed tears over a print by bunbury of a soldier lying dead on the snow. lockhart's _scott_, i. . see _ib_. vii. , for an anecdote of fergusson. [ ] they were pulled down in . murray's _handbook for scotland_, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, johnson's _tour into wales_, aug. , . [ ] 'there where no statesman buys, no bishop sells; a virtuous palace where no monarch dwells.' _an epitaph_. hamilton's poems, ed. , p. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the stanza from which he took this line is, 'but then rose up all edinburgh, they rose up by thousands three; a cowardly scot came john behind, and ran him through the fair body!' [ ] johnson described her as 'an old lady, who talks broad scotch with a paralytick voice, and is scarce understood by her own countrymen.' _piozzi letters_, i. . lord shelburne says that 'her husband, the last duke, could neither read nor write without great difficulty.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says that in he heard her say:--'i have sworn to be duchess of douglas or never to mount a marriage bed.' she married the duke in . r. chambers wrote in :--'it is a curious fact that sixty years ago there was scarcely a close in the high street but what had as many noble inhabitants as are at this day to be found in the whole town.' _traditions of edinburgh_, ed. , i. . [ ] see ante, ii. , note . [ ] lord chesterfield wrote from london on dec. , (_misc. works_, iv. ):--'i question whether you will ever see my friend george faulkner in ireland again, he is become so great and considerable a man here in the republic of letters; he has a constant table open to all men of wit and learning, and to those sometimes who have neither. i have been able to get him to dine with me but twice.' [ ] dr. johnson one evening roundly asserted in his rough way that "swift was a shallow fellow; a very shallow fellow." mr. sheridan replied warmly but modestly, "pardon me, sir, for differing from you, but i always thought the dean a very clear writer." johnson vociferated "all shallows are clear."' _town and country mag_. sept. . _notes and queries_, jan. , p. . see _ante_, iv. . [ ] '_the memoirs of scriblerus_,' says johnson (_works_, viii. ), 'seem to be the production of arbuthnot, with a few touches, perhaps, by pope.' swift also was concerned in it. johnson goes on to shew why 'this joint production of three great writers has never obtained any notice from mankind.' arbuthnot was the author of _john bull_. swift wrote to stella on may , :--'i hope you read _john bull_. it was a scotch gentleman, a friend of mine, that wrote it; but they put it upon me.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] horace, _satires_. i. iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'at supper there was such conflux of company that i could scarcely support the tumult. i have never been well in the whole journey, and am very easily disordered.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , and under june , . [ ] johnson was thinking of sir matthew hale for one. [ ] 'it is supposed that there were no executions for witchcraft in england subsequently to the year ; but the statute of i james i, c. , so minute in its enactments against witches, was not repealed till the geo. ii, c. . in scotland, so late as the year , when the local jurisdictions were still hereditary [see _post_, sept. ], the sheriff of sutherlandshire condemned a witch to death.' _penny cyclo_. xxvii. . in the bishopric of wurtzburg, so late as , a nun was burnt for witchcraft: 'cette malheureuse fille soutint opiniâtrément qu'elle était sorcière.... elle était folle, ses juges furent imbécilles et barbares.' voltaire's _works_, ed. , xxvi. . [ ] a dane wrote to garrick from copenhagen on dec. , :--'there is some of our retinue who, not understanding a word of your language, mimic your gesture and your action: so great an impression did it make upon their minds, the scene of daggers has been repeated in dumb show a hundred times, and those most ignorant of the english idiom can cry out with rapture, "a horse, a horse; my kingdom for a horse!"' _garrick corres._ i. . see _ante_, vol. iv. under sept. , [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson, in the preface to his _dictionary_ (_works_, v. ), after stating what he had at first planned, continues:--'but these were the dreams of a poet doomed at last to wake a lexicographer.' see _ante_, i. , note , and may i, . [ ] see his letter on this subject in the appendix. boswell. he had been tutor to hume's nephew and was one of hume's friends. j.h burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] by the baron d'holbach. voltaire (_works_, xii. ) describes this book as 'une _philippique_ contre dieu.' he wrote to m. saurin:--'ce maudit livre du système de la nature est un péché contre nature. je vous sais bien bon gré de réprouver l'athéisme et d'aimer ce vers: "si dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer." je suis rarement content de mes vers, mais j'avoue que j'ai une tendresse de père pour celui-là.' _ib_. v. . [ ] one of garrick's correspondents speaks of 'the sneer of one of johnson's ghastly smiles.' _garrick corres_. i. . 'ghastly smile' is borrowed from _paradise lost_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . in chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, ii. , is given a comic poem entitled _the court of session garland_, written by boswell, with the help, it was said, of maclaurin. [ ] dr. john gregory, professor of medicine in the university of edinburgh, died on feb. of this year. it was his eldest son james who met johnson. 'this learned family has given sixteen professors to british universities.' chalmers's _biog. dict._ xvi. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in the original, _cursed the form that_, &c. johnson's _works_, i. . [ ] mistress of edward iv. boswell. [ ] mistress of louis xiv. boswell. voltaire, speaking of the king and mlle. de la vallière (not valiere, as lord hailes wrote her name), says:--'il goûta avec elle le bonheur rare d'être aimé uniquement pour lui-même.' _siècle de louis xiv_, ch. . he describes her penitence in a fine passage. _ib._ ch. . [ ] malone, in a note on the _life of boswell_ under , says that 'this lady was not the celebrated lady vane, whose memoirs were given to the public by dr. smollett [in _peregrine pickle_], but anne vane, who was mistress to frederick prince of wales, and died in , not long before johnson settled in london.' she is mentioned in a note to horace walpole's _letters_, . cxxxvi. [ ] catharine sedley, the mistress of james ii, is described by macaulay, _hist of eng._ ed. , ii. . [ ] dr. a carlyle (_auto._ p. ) tells how in he found 'professor maclaurin busy on the walls on the south side of edinburgh, endeavoring to make them more defensible [against the pretender]. he had even erected some small cannon.' see _ante_, iii, , for a ridiculous story told of him by goldsmith. [ ] 'crudelis ubique luctus, ubique pavor, et plurima mortis imago:' 'grim grief on every side, and fear on every side there is, and many-faced is death.' morris, virgil _aeneids_, ii. . [ ] mr. maclaurin's epitaph, as engraved on a marble tomb-stone, in the grey-friars church-yard, edinburgh:-- infra situs est colin maclaurin, mathes. olim in acad. edin. prof. electus ipso newtono suadente. h.l.p.f. non ut nomini paterno consulat, nam tali auxilio nil eget; sed ut in hoc infelici campo, ubi luctus regnant et pavor, mortalibus prorsus non absit solatium; hujus enim scripta evolve, mentemque tantarum rerum capacem corpori caduco superstitem crede. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, p. . [ ] 'what is't to us, if taxes rise or fall, thanks to our fortune we pay none at all. no statesman e'er will find it worth his pains to tax our labours and excise our brains. burthens like these vile earthly buildings bear, no tribute's laid on _castles_ in the _air_' churchill's _poems, night,_ ed. , i. . [ ] pitt, in , laid a tax of ten shillings a year on every horse 'kept for the saddle, or to be put in carriages used solely for pleasure.'_parl. hist._ xxiv. . [ ] in he published the following description of himself in his _correspondence with erskine_, ed. , p. . 'the author of the _ode to tragedy_ is a most excellent man; he is of an ancient family in the west of scotland, upon which he values himself not a little. at his nativity there appeared omens of his future greatness. his parts are bright; and his education has been good. he has travelled in post-chaises miles without number. he is fond of seeing much of the world. he eats of every good dish, especially apple-pie. he drinks old hock. he has a very fine temper. he is somewhat of an humorist, and a little tinctured with pride. he has a good manly countenance, and he owns himself to be amorous. he has infinite vivacity, yet is observed at times to have a melancholy cast. he is rather fat than lean, rather short than tall, rather young than old.' he is oddly enough described in arighi's _histoire de pascal paoli_, i. , 'en traversant la mediterranée sur de frêles navires pour venir s'asseoir au foyer de la nationalité corse, des hommes _graves_ tels que boswel et volney obéissaient sans doute à un sentiment bien plus élevé qu'au besoin vulgaire d'une puérile curiosité' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] for _respectable_, see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] boswell, in the last of his _hypochondriacks_, says:--'i perceive that my essays are not so lively as i expected they would be, but they are more learned. and i beg i may not be charged with excessive arrogance when i venture to say that they contain a considerable portion of original thinking.'_london mag_. , p. . [ ] burns, in _the author's earnest cry and prayer_, says:-- 'but could i like montgomeries fight, or gab like boswell.' boswell and burns were born within a few miles of each other, boswell being the elder by eighteen years. [ ] 'for pointed satire i would buckhurst choose, the best good man, with the worst-natured muse.' rochester's _imitations of horace, sat_. i. . [ ] johnson's _works_, ix. i. see _ante_, ii. , where he wrote to boswell:--'i have endeavoured to do you some justice in the first paragraph [of the _journey_].' the day before he started for scotland he wrote to dr. taylor:--'mr. boswell, an active lively fellow, is to conduct me round the country.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . 'his inquisitiveness,' he said, 'is seconded by great activity.' _works_, ix. . on oct. he wrote from skye:--'boswell will praise my resolution and perseverance; and i shall in return celebrate his good humour and perpetual cheerfulness.... it is very convenient to travel with him, for there is no house where he is not received with kindness and respect.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he told mrs. knowles that 'boswell was the best travelling companion in the world.' _ante_, iii. . mr. croker says (_croker's boswell_, p. ):--'i asked lord stowell in what estimation he found boswell amongst his countrymen. "generally liked as a good-natured jolly fellow," replied his lordship. "but was he respected?" "well, i think he had about the proportion of respect that you might guess would be shown to a jolly fellow." his lordship thought there was more regard than respect.' _hebrides,_ p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] there were two quarto volumes of this diary; perhaps one of them johnson took with him. boswell had 'accidently seen them and had read a great deal in them,' as he owned to johnson (_ante_, under dec. , ), and moreover had, it should seem, copied from them (_ante_, i. ). the 'few fragments' he had received from francis barber (_ante_, i. ). [ ] in the original 'how much we lost _at separation_' johnson's _works_, ix. i. mr. william nairne was afterwards a judge of the court of sessions by the title of lord dunsinnan. sir walter scott wrote of him:--'he was a man of scrupulous integrity. when sheriff depute of perthshire, he found upon reflection, that he had decided a poor man's case erroneously; and as the only remedy, supplied the litigant privately with money to carry the suit to the supreme court, where his judgment was reversed.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] 'non illic urbes, non tu mirabere silvas: una est injusti caerula forma maris. _ovid. amor._ l. ii. el. xi. nor groves nor towns the ruthless ocean shows; unvaried still its azure surface flows. boswell. [ ] see _ante_. ii. . [ ] my friend, general campbell, governour of madras, tells me, that they made _speldings_ in the east-indies, particularly at bombay, where they call them _bambaloes_. boswell. johnson had told boswell that he was 'the most _unscottified_ of his countrymen.'_ante_, ii. . [ ] 'a small island, which neither of my companions had ever visited, though, lying within their view, it had all their lives solicited their notice.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'the remains of the fort have been removed to assist in constructing a very useful lighthouse upon the island. walter scott. [ ] 'unhappy queen! unwilling i forsook your friendly state.' dryden. [_aeneid_, vi. .] boswell. [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says of his journey to london in :--'it is to be noted that we could get no four-wheeled chaise till we came to durham, those conveyances being then only in their infancy. turnpike roads were only in their commencement in the north.' 'it affords a southern stranger,' wrote johnson (_works_ ix. ), 'a new kind of pleasure to travel so commodiously without the interruption of toll-gates.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , for lord shelburne's statement on this subject. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the passage quoted by dr. johnson is in the _character of the assembly-man_; butler's _remains_, p. , edit. :--'he preaches, indeed, both in season and out of season; for he rails at popery, when the land is almost lost in presbytery; and would cry fire! fire! in noah's flood.' there is reason to believe that this piece was not written by butler, but by sir john birkenhead; for wood, in his _athenae oxonienses_, vol. ii. p. , enumerates it among that gentleman's works, and gives the following account of it: _'the assembly-man_ (or the character of an assembly-man) written , _lond._ - , in three sheets in qu. the copy of it was taken from the author by those who said they could not rob, because all was theirs; so excised what they liked not; and so mangled and reformed it, that it was no character of an assembly, but of themselves. at length, after it had slept several years, the author published it to avoid false copies. it is also reprinted in a book entit. _wit and loyalty revived_, in a collection of some smart satyrs in verse and prose on the late times. _lond._ , qu. said to be written by abr. cowley, sir john birkenhead, and hudibras, alias sam. butler.'--for this information i am indebted to mr. reed, of staple inn. boswell. this tract is in the _harleian misc_., ed. , vi. . mr. reed's quotation differs somewhat from it. [ ] 'when a scotchman was talking against warburton, johnson said he had more literature than had been imported from scotland since the days of buchanan. upon the other's mentioning other eminent writers of the scotch; "these will not do," said johnson, "let us have some more of your northern lights; these are mere farthing candles."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . dr. t. campbell records (_diary_, p. ) that at the dinner at mr. dilly's, described _ante_, ii. , 'dr. johnson compared england and scotland to two lions, the one saturated with his belly full, and the other prowling for prey. he defied any one to produce a classical book written in scotland since buchanan. robertson, he said, used pretty words, but he liked hume better; and neither of them would he allow to be more to clarendon than a rat to a cat. "a scotch surgeon may have more learning than an english one, and all scotland could not muster learning enough for lowth's _prelections_."' see _ante_, ii. , and march , . [ ] the poem is entitled _gualterus danistonus ad amicos_. it begins:-- 'dum studeo fungi fallentis munere vitae' which prior imitates:-- 'studious the busy moments to deceive.' sir walter scott thought that the poem praised by johnson was 'more likely the fine epitaph on john, viscount of dundee, translated by dryden, and beginning _ultime scotoruml_' archibald pitcairne, m.d., was born in , and died in . [ ] my journal, from this day inclusive, was read by dr. johnson. boswell. it was read by johnson up to the second paragraph of oct. . boswell, it should seem, once at least shewed johnson a part of the journal from which he formed his _life_. see _ante_, iii. , where he says:--'it delighted him on a review to find that his conversation teemed with point and imagery.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_, published in , says, (ch. x):--'when the great somers was at the helm, patronage was fashionable among our nobility ... since the days of a certain prime minister of inglorious memory [sir robert walpole] the learned have been kept pretty much at a distance. ... the author, when unpatronised by the great, has naturally recourse to the bookseller. there cannot be perhaps imagined a combination more prejudicial to taste than this. it is the interest of the one to allow as little for writing, and of the other to write as much as possible; accordingly tedious compilations and periodical magazines are the result of their joint endeavours.' [ ] in the first number of _the rambler_, johnson shews how attractive to an author is the form of publication which he was himself then adopting:--'it heightens his alacrity to think in how many places he shall have what he is now writing read with ecstacies to-morrow.' [ ] yet he said 'the inhabitants of lichfield were the most sober, decent people in england.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] at the beginning of the eighteenth century, says goldsmith, 'smoking in the rooms [at bath] was permitted.' when nash became king of bath he put it down. goldsmith's _works_, ed. , iv. . 'johnson,' says boswell (_ante_, i. ), 'had a high opinion of the sedative influence of smoking.' [ ] dr. johnson used to practise this himself very much. boswell. [ ] in _the tatler_, for may , , we are told that 'rural esquires wear shirts half a week, and are drunk twice a day.' in the year , fenton urged gay 'to sell as much south sea stock as would purchase a hundred a year for life, "which will make you sure of a clean shirt and a shoulder of mutton every day."' johnson's _works_, viii. . in _tristram shandy_, ii. ch. , published in , we read:--'it was in this year [about ] that my uncle began to break in upon the daily regularity of a clean shirt.' in _the spiritual quixote_, published in (i. ), tugwell says to his master:--'your worship belike has been used to shift you twice a week.' mrs. piozzi (_journey_, i. , date of ) says that she heard in milan 'a travelled gentleman telling his auditors how all the men in london, _that were noble_, put on a clean shirt every day.' johnson himself owned that he had 'no passion for clean linen.' _ante_, i. . [ ] scott, in _old mortality_, ed. , ix. , says:--'it was a universal custom in scotland, that, when the family was at dinner, the outer-gate of the court-yard, if there was one, and if not, the door of the house itself, was always shut and locked.' in a note on this he says:--'the custom of keeping the door of a house or chateau locked during the time of dinner probably arose from the family being anciently assembled in the hall at that meal, and liable to surprise.' [ ] johnson, writing of 'the chapel of the alienated college,' says:--'i was always by some civil excuse hindered from entering it.' _works_, ix. . [ ] george marline's _reliquiae divi andreae_ was published in . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iv. . [ ] mr. chambers says that knox was buried in a place which soon after became, and ever since has been, a high-way; namely, the old church-yard of st. giles in edinburgh. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , johnson makes a virtuoso write:--'i often lamented that i was not one of that happy generation who demolished the convents and monasteries, and broke windows by law.' he had in 'viewed with indignation the ruins of the abbeys of oseney and rewley near oxford.' ante, i. . smollett, in _humphry clinker_ (letrer of aug. ), describes st. andrews as 'the skeleton of a venerable city.' [ ] 'some talked of the right of society to the labour of individuals, and considered retirement as a desertion of duty. others readily allowed that there was a time when the claims of the publick were satisfied, and when a man might properly sequester himself to review his life and purify his heart.' _rasselas_, ch. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note , and v. . [ ] 'he that lives well in the world is better than he that lives well in a monastery. but, perhaps, every one is not able to stem the temptations of publick life, and, if he cannot conquer, he may properly retreat.' _rasselas_, ch. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'a youthful passion for abstracted devotion should not be encouraged.' _ante_, ii. . the hermit in _rasselas_ (ch. ) says:--'the life of a solitary man will be certainly miserable, but not certainly devout.' in johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , we read that 'johnson thought worse of the vices of retirement than of those of society.' southey (_life of wesley_, i. ) writes:--'some time before john wesley's return to the university, he had travelled many miles to see what is called "a serious man." this person said to him, "sir, you wish to serve god and go to heaven. remember, you cannot serve him alone; you must therefore find companions or make them; the bible knows nothing of solitary religion." wesley never forgot these words.' [ ] [erga neon, boulai de meson euchai de gerunton. _hesiodi fragmenta_, lipsiae , p. ] let youth in deeds, in counsel man engage; prayer is the proper duty of old age. boswell. [ ] one 'sorrowful scene' johnson was perhaps too late in the year to see. wesley, who visited st. andrews on may , , during the vacation, writes (_journal_, iv. ):--'what is left of st. leonard's college is only a heap of ruins. two colleges remain. one of them has a tolerable square; but all the windows are broke, like those of a brothel. we were informed the students do this before they leave the college.' [ ] 'he was murdered by the ruffians of reformation, in the manner of which knox has given what he himself calls a merry narrative.' johnson's _works_, ix. . in may the cardinal had wishart the reformer killed, and at the end of the same month he got killed himself. [ ] johnson says (_works_, ix. ):--'the doctor, by whom it was shown, hoped to irritate or subdue my english vanity by telling me that we had no such repository of books in england.' he wrote to mrs. thrale (_piozzi letters_, i. ):--'for luminousness and elegance it may vie at least with the new edifice at streatham.' 'the new edifice' was, no doubt, the library of which he took the touching farewell. _ante_, iv. . [ ] 'sorrow is properly that state of the mind in which our desires are fixed upon the past, without looking forward to the future, an incessant wish that something were otherwise than it has been, a tormenting and harassing want of some enjoyment or possession which we have lost, and which no endeavours can possibly regain.' _the rambler_, no. . he wrote to mrs. thrale on the death of her son:--'do not indulge your sorrow; try to drive it away by either pleasure or pain; for, opposed to what you are feeling, many pains will become pleasures.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] the pembroke college grace was written by camden. it was as follows:--'gratias tibi agimus, deus misericors, pro acceptis a tua bonitate alimentis; enixe comprecantes ut serenissimum nostrum regem georgium, totam regiam familiam, populumque tuum universum tuta in pace semper custodies.' [ ] sharp was murdered on may , , in a moor near st. andrews. burnet's _history of his own time_, ed. , ii. , and scott's _old mortality_, ed, , ix. , and x. . [ ] 'one of its streets is now lost; and in those that remain there is the silence and solitude of inactive indigence and gloomy depopulation.... st. andrews seems to be a place eminently adapted to study and education.... the students, however, are represented as, at this time, not exceeding a hundred. i saw no reason for imputing their paucity to the present professors.' johnson's _works_, ix. . a student, he adds, of lower rank could get his board, lodging, and instruction for less than ten pounds for the seven months of residence. stockdale says (_memoirs_, i. ) that 'in st. andrews, in , for a good bedroom, coals, and the attendance of a servant i paid one shilling a week.' [ ] _the compleat fencing-master_, by sir william hope. london, . [ ] 'in the whole time of our stay we were gratified by every mode of kindness, and entertained with all the elegance of lettered hospitality' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] dugald stewart (_life of adam smith_, p. ) writes:--'mr. smith observed to me not long before his death, that after all his practice in writing he composed as slowly, and with as great difficulty as at first. he added at the same time that mr. hume had acquired so great a facility in this respect, that the last volumes of his _history_ were printed from his original copy, with a few marginal corrections.' see _ante_, iii. and iv. . [ ] of these only twenty-five have been published: johnson's _works_, ix. - . see _ante_, iii. , note , and . johnson wrote on april , :--'i have made sermons, perhaps as readily as formerly.' _pr. and med._ p. . 'i should think,' said lord eldon, 'that no clergyman ever wrote as many sermons as lord stowell. i advised him to burn all his manuscripts of that kind. it is not fair to the clergymen to have it known he wrote them.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . johnson, we may be sure, had no copy of any of his sermons. that none of them should be known but those he wrote for taylor is strange. [ ] he made the same statement on june , (_ante_, iv. ), adding, 'i should be glad to see it [the translation] now.' this shows that he was not speaking of his translation of _lobo_, as mr. croker maintains in a note on this passage. i believe he was speaking of his translation of courayer's _life of paul sarpi. ante_, i. . [ ] 'as far as i am acquainted with modern architecture, i am aware of no streets which, in simplicity and manliness of style, or general breadth and brightness of effect, equal those of the new town of edinburgh. but, etc.' ruskin's _lectures on architecture and painting_, p. . [ ] horace, _odes_, ii. . . [ ] john abernethy, a presbyterian divine. his works in vols. vo. were published in - . [ ] leechman was principal of glasgow university (_post_, oct. ). on his appointment to the chair of theology he had been prosecuted for heresy for having, in his _sermon on prayer_, omitted to state the obligation to pray in the name of christ. dr. a. carlyle's _auto_. p. . one of his sermons was placed in hume's hands, apparently that the author might have his suggestions in preparing a second edition. hume says:--'first the addressing of our virtuous withes and desires to the deity, since the address has no influence on him, is only a kind of rhetorical figure, in order to render these wishes more ardent and passionate. this is mr. leechman's doctrine. now the use of any figure of speech can never be a duty. secondly, this figure, like most figures of rhetoric, has an evident impropriety in it, for we can make use of no expression, or even thought, in prayers and entreaties, which does not imply that these prayers have an influence. thirdly, this figure is very dangerous, and leads directly, and even unavoidably, to impiety and blasphemy,' etc. j.h. burton's _hume_, i. . [ ] nichols (_lit. anec._ ii. ) records:--'during the whole of my intimacy with dr. johnson he rarely permitted me to depart without some sententious advice.... his words at parting were, "take care of your eternal salvation. remember to observe the sabbath. let it never be a day of business, nor wholly a day of dissipation." he concluded his solemn farewell with, "let my words have their due weight. they are the words of a dying man." i never saw him more.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'from the bank of the tweed to st. andrews i had never seen a single tree which i did not believe to have grown up far within the present century.... the variety of sun and shade is here utterly unknown.... a tree might be a show in scotland as a horse in venice. at st. andrews mr. boswell found only one, and recommended it to my notice: i told him that it was rough and low, or looked as if i thought so. "this," said he, "is nothing to another a few miles off." i was still less delighted to hear that another tree was not to be seen nearer. "nay," said a gentleman that stood by, "i know but of this and that tree in the county."' johnson's _works_, ix. 'in all this journey [so far as slains castle] i have not travelled an hundred yards between hedges, or seen five trees fit for the carpenter.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] one of the boswells of this branch was, in , raised to the bench under the title of lord balmuto. it was his sister who was boswell's step-mother. rogers's _boswelliana,_ pp. , . [ ] 'the colony of leuchars is a vain imagination concerning a certain fleet of danes wrecked on sheughy dikes.' walter scott. 'the fishing people on that coast have, however, all the appearance of being a different race from the inland population, and their dialect has many peculiarities.' lockhart. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] 'i should scarcely have regretted my journey, had it afforded nothing more than the sight of aberbrothick.' _works_, ix. . [ ] johnson referred, i believe, to the last of tillotson's _sermons preached upon several occasions_, ed. , p. , where the preacher says:--'supposing the _scripture_ to be a divine revelation, and that these words (_this is my body_), if they be in scripture, must necessarily be taken in the strict and literal sense, i ask now, what greater evidence any man has that these words (_this is my body_) are in the bible than every man has that the bread is not changed in the sacrament? nay, no man has so much, for we have only the evidence of _one_ sense that these words are in the bible, but that the bread is not changed we have the concurring testimony of _several_ of our senses.' [ ] this also is tillotson's argument. 'there is no more certain foundation for it [transubstantiation] in scripture than for our saviour's being substantially changed into all those things which are said of him, as that he is a _rock_, a _vine_, a _door_, and a hundred other things.' _ib_. p. . [ ] then jesus said unto them, verily, verily, i say unto you, except ye eat the flesh of the son of man, and drink his blood, ye have no life in you. see _st. john's gospel_, chap. vi. , and following verses. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note , and v. . [ ] johnson, after saying that the inn was not so good as they expected, continues:--'but mr. boswell desired me to observe that the innkeeper was an englishman, and i then defended him as well as i could.' _works_, ix. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on july , (_piozzi letters_, i. ):--' i hope i shall quickly come to streatham...and catch a little gaiety among you.' on this baretti noted in his copy:--'_that_ he never caught. he thought and mused at streatham as he did habitually everywhere, and seldom or never minded what was doing about him.' on the margin of i. baretti has written:--'johnson mused as much on the road to paris as he did in his garret in london as much at a french opera as in his room at streatham.' [ ] _a biographical sketch of dr. samuel johnson,_ by thomas tyers, esq. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] this description of dr. johnson appears to have been borrowed from tom jones, bk. xi. ch. ii. 'the other who, like a ghost, only wanted to be spoke to, readily answered, '&c. boswell. [ ] perhaps he gave the 'shilling extraordinary' because he 'found a church,' as he says, 'clean to a degree unknown in any other part of scotland.' _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante,_ iii. . [ ] see _ante,_ may , . yet johnson says (_works_, ix. ):--'the magnetism of lord monboddo's conversation easily drew us out of our way.' [ ] there were several points of similarity between them; learning, clearness of head, precision of speech, and a love of research on many subjects which people in general do not investigate. foote paid lord monboddo the compliment of saying, that he was an elzevir edition of johnson. it has been shrewdly observed that foote must have meant a diminutive, or _pocket_ edition. boswell. the latter part of this note is not in the first edition. [ ] lord elibank (_post_, sept. ) said that he would go five hundred miles to see dr. johnson; but johnson never said more than he meant. [ ] _works_, ix. . of the road to montrose he remarks:--'when i had proceeded thus far i had opportunities of observing, what i had never heard, that there were many beggars in scotland. in edinburgh the the proportion is, i think, not less than in london, and in the smaller places it is far greater than in english towns of the same extent. it must, however, be allowed that they are not importunate, nor clamorous. they solicit silently, or very modestly.' _ib._ p. . see _post_, p. , note . [ ] james mill was born on april , , at northwater bridge, parish of logie pert, forfar. the bridge was 'on the great central line of communication from the north of scotland. the hamlet is right and left of the high road.' bain's _life of james mill_, p. . boswell and johnson, on their road to laurence kirk, must have passed close to the cottage in which he was lying, a baby not five months old. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] there is some account of him in chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, ed. , ii. , and in dr. a. carlyle's _auto._ p. . [ ] g. chalmers (_life of ruddiman_, p. ) says:--'in may, , lord gardenston declared that he still intended to erect a proper monument in his village to the memory of the late learned and worthy mr. ruddiman.' in gardenston, in his _miscellanies_, p. , attacked ruddiman. 'it has of late become fashionable,' he wrote, 'to speak of ruddiman in terms of the highest respect.' the monument was never raised. [ ] _a letter to the inhabitants of laurence kirk_, by f. garden. [ ] 'be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.' _hebrews_ xiii, . [ ] this, i find, is considered as obscure. i suppose dr. johnson meant, that i assiduously and earnestly recommended myself to some of the members, as in a canvass for an election into parliament. boswell. see _ante_, ii, . [ ] goldsmith in _retaliation_, a few months later, wrote of william burke:--'would you ask for his merits? alas! he had none; what was good was spontaneous, his faults were his own.' see _ante_, iii , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , , . [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) wrote of monboddo in :--'he is such an extravagant adorer of the ancients, that he scarcely allows the english language to be capable of any excellence, still less the french. he said we moderns are entirely degenerated. i asked in what? "in everything," was his answer. he loves slavery upon principle. i asked him how he could vindicate such an enormity. he owned it was because plutarch justified it. he is so wedded to system that, as lord barrington said to me the other day, rather than sacrifice his favourite opinion that men were born with tails, he would be contented to wear one himself.' [ ] scott, in a note on _guy mannering_, ed. , iv. , writes of monboddo:--'the conversation of the excellent old man, his high, gentleman-like, chivalrous spirit, the learning and wit with which he defended his fanciful paradoxes, the kind and liberal spirit of his hospitality, must render these _noctes coenaeque_ dear to all who, like the author (though then young), had the honour of sitting at his board.' [ ] lord cockburn, writing of the title that jeffrey took when he was raised to the bench in , said:--'the scotch judges are styled _lords_; a title to which long usage has associated feelings of reverence in the minds of the people, who could not now be soon made to respect or understand _mr. justice_. during its strongly feudalised condition, the landholders of scotland, who were almost the sole judges, were really known only by the names of their estates. it was an insult, and in some parts of the country it is so still, to call a laird by his personal, instead of his territorial, title. but this assumption of two names, one official and one personal, and being addressed by the one and subscribing by the other, is wearing out, and will soon disappear entirely.' cockburn's _jeffrey_, i. . see _post_, p. , note . [ ] _georgics_, i. . [ ] walter scott used to tell an instance of lord monboddo's agricultural enthusiasm, that returning home one night after an absence (i think) on circuit, he went out with a candle to look at a field of turnips, then a novelty in scotland. croker. [ ] johnson says the same in his _life of john philips_, and adds:-- 'this i was told by miller, the great gardener and botanist, whose experience was, that "there were many books written on the same subject in prose, which do not contain so much truth as that poem."' _works_, vii. . miller is mentioned in walpole's _letters_, ii. :--'there is extreme taste in the park [hagley]: the seats are not the best, but there is not one absurdity. there is a ruined castle built by miller, that would get him his freedom, even of strawberry: it has the true rust of the barons' wars.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] my note of this is much too short. _brevis esse laboro, obscurus fio_. ['i strive to be concise, i prove obscure.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. l. .] yet as i have resolved that _the very journal which dr. johnson read_, shall be presented to the publick, i will not expand the text in any considerable degree, though i may occasionally supply a word to complete the sense, as i fill up the blanks of abbreviation, in the writing; neither of which can be said to change the genuine _journal_. one of the best criticks of our age conjectures that the imperfect passage above was probably as follows: 'in his book we have an accurate display of a nation in war, and a nation in peace; the peasant is delineated as truly as the general; nay, even harvest-sport, and the modes of ancient theft are described.' boswell. 'one of the best criticks is, i believe, malone, who had 'perused the original manuscript.' see _ante_, p. ; and _post_, oct. , and under nov. . [ ] it was in the parliament-house that 'the ordinary lords of session,' the scotch judges, that is to say, held their courts. _ante_, p. . [ ] dr. johnson modestly said, he had not read homer so much as he wished he had done. but this conversation shews how well he was acquainted with the maeonian bard; and he has shewn it still more in his criticism upon pope's _homer_, in his _life_ of that poet. my excellent friend, mr. langton, told me, he was once present at a dispute between dr. johnson and mr. burke, on the comparative merits of homer and virgil, which was carried on with extraordinary abilities on both sides. dr. johnson maintained the superiority of homer. boswell. johnson told windham that he had never read through the odyssey in the original. windham's _diary_, p. . see _ante_, iii. , and may , . [ ] johnson ten years earlier told boswell that he loved most 'the biographical part of literature.' _ante_, i. . goldsmith said of biography:--'it furnishes us with an opportunity of giving advice freely and without offence.... counsels as well as compliments are best conveyed in an indirect and oblique manner, and this renders biography as well as fable a most convenient vehicle for instruction. an ingenious gentleman was asked what was the best lesson for youth; he answered, "the life of a good man." being again asked what was the next best, he replied, "the life of a bad one."' prior's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] ten years later he said:--'there is now a great deal more learning in the world than there was formerly; for it is universally diffused.' _ante_, april , . windham (_diary_, p. ) records 'johnson's opinion that i could not name above five of my college acquaintances who read latin with sufficient ease to make it pleasurable.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'warburton, whatever was his motive, undertook without solicitation to rescue pope from the talons of crousaz, by freeing him from the imputation of favouring fatality, or rejecting revelation; and from month to month continued a vindication of the _essay on man_ in the literary journal of that time, called the _republick of letters'_ johnson's _works_, viii. . pope wrote to warburton of the _essay on man_:--'you understand my work better than i do myself.' pope's _works_, ed. , ix. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note i, and pope's _works_, ed. , ix. . allen was ralph allen of prior park near bath, to whom fielding dedicated _amelia_, and who is said to have been the original of allworthy in _tom jones_. it was he of whom pope wrote:-- 'let low-born allen, with an awkward shame, do good by stealth and blush to find it fame.' _epilogue to the satires_, i. . _low-born_ in later editions was changed to _humble_. warburton not only married his niece, but, on his death, became in her right owner of prior park. [ ] mr. mark pattison (_satires of pope_, p. ) points out warburton's 'want of penetration in that subject [metaphysics] which he considered more peculiarly his own.' he said of 'the late mr. baxter' (andrew baxter, not richard baxter), that 'a few pages of his reasoning have not only more sense and substance than all the elegant discourses of dr. berkeley, but infinitely better entitle him to the character of a great genius.' [ ] it is of warburton that churchill wrote in _the duellist (poems,_ ed. , ii. ):-- 'to prove his faith which all admit is at least equal to his wit, and make himself a man of note, he in defence of scripture wrote; so long he wrote, and long about it, that e'en believers 'gan to doubt it.' [ ] i find some doubt has been entertained concerning dr. johnson's meaning here. it is to be supposed that he meant, 'when a king shall again be entertained in scotland.' boswell. [ ] perhaps among these ladies was the miss burnet of monboddo, on whom burns wrote an elegy. [ ] in the _rambler_, no. , entitled _the necessity of cultivating politeness_, johnson says:--'the universal axiom in which all complaisance is included, and from which flow all the formalities which custom has established in civilized nations, is, _that no man shall give any preference to himself.'_ in the same paper, he says that 'unnecessarily to obtrude unpleasing ideas is a species of oppression.' [ ] act ii. sc. . [ ] perhaps he was referring to polyphemus's club, which was 'of height and bulk so vast the largest ship might claim it for a mast.' pope's _odyssey_, ix. . or to agamemnon's sceptre:-- 'which never more shall leaves or blossoms bear.' _iliad_, i. . [ ] 'we agreed pretty well, only we disputed in adjusting the claims of merit between a shopkeeper of london and a savage of the american wildernesses. our opinions were, i think, maintained on both sides without full conviction; monboddo declared boldly for the savage, and i, perhaps for that reason, sided with the citizen.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'heroes are much the same, the point's agreed, from macedonia's madman to the swede; the whole strange purpose of their lives to find, or make, an enemy of all mankind! not one looks backward, onward still he goes, yet ne'er looks forward further than his nose.' _essay on man,_ iv. . [ ] _maccaroni_ is not in johnson's _dictionary_. horace walpole (_letters_, iv. ) on feb. , , mentions 'the maccaroni club, which is composed of all the travelled young men who wear long curls and spying-glasses.' on the following dec. he says:--'the maccaroni club has quite absorbed arthur's; for, you know, old fools will hobble after young ones.' _ib._ p. . see _post_, sept. , for _buck_. [ ] 'we came late to aberdeen, where i found my dear mistress's letter, and learned that all our little people were happily recovered of the measles. every part of your letter was pleasing.' _piozzi letters_, i. . for johnson's use of the word _mistress_ in speaking of mrs. thrale see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . 'they taught us,' said one of the professors, 'to raise cabbage and make shoes, how they lived without shoes may yet be seen; but in the passage through villages it seems to him that surveys their gardens, that when they had not cabbage they had nothing.' _piozzi letters_, i. . johnson in the same letter says that 'new aberdeen is built of that granite which is used for the _new_ pavement in london.' [ ] 'in aberdeen i first saw the women in plaids.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] seven years later mackintosh, on entering king's college, found there the son of johnson's old friend, 'the learned dr. charles burney, finishing his term at aberdeen.' among his fellow-students were also some english dissenters, among them robert hall. mackintosh's _life,_ i. , . in forbes's _life of beattie_ (ed. , p. ) is a letter by beattie, dated oct. , , in which the english and scotch universities are compared. colman, in his _random records,_ ii. , gives an account of his life at aberdeen as a student. [ ] lord bolingbroke (works, iii. ) in speaks of 'the little care that is taken in the training up our youth,' and adds, 'surely it is impossible to take less.' see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] _london, d may_, . dr. johnson acknowledged that he was himself the authour of the translation above alluded to, and dictated it to me as follows:-- quos laudet vates graius romanus et anglus tres tria temporibus secla dedere suis. sublime ingenium graius; romanus habebat carmen grande sonans; anglus utrumque tulit. nil majus natura capit: clarare priores quae potuere duos tertius unus habet. boswell. it was on may , , that johnson attacked boswell with such rudeness that he kept away from him for a week. _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'we were on both sides glad of the interview, having not seen nor perhaps thought on one another for many years; but we had no emulation, nor had either of us risen to the other's envy, and our old kindness was easily renewed.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote on sept. :--'barley-broth is a constant dish, and is made well in every house. a stranger, if he is prudent, will secure his share, for it is not certain that he will be able to eat anything else.' _piozzi letters_, i. p. . [ ] see _ante_. p. . [ ] _genesis_, ix. . [ ] my worthy, intelligent, and candid friend, dr. kippis, informs me, that several divines have thus explained the mediation of our saviour. what dr. johnson now delivered, was but a temporary opinion; for he afterwards was fully convinced of the _propitiatory sacrifice_, as i shall shew at large in my future work, _the life of samuel johnson, ll.d._ boswell. for dr. kippis see _ante_, iii. , and for johnson on the propitiatory sacrifice, iv. . [ ] _malachi_, iv. . [ ] _st. luke_, ii . [ ] 'healing _in_ his wings,'_malachi_, iv. . [ ] 'he that believeth and is baptised shall be saved; but he that believeth not shall be damned.' _st. mark_, xvi. . [ ] mr. langton. see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] spedding's _bacon_, vii. . the poem is also given in _the golden treasury_, p. ; where, however, 'limns _the_ water' is changed into 'limns _on_ water.' [ ] 'addison now returned to his vocation, and began to plan literary occupations for his future life. he purposed a tragedy on the death of socrates... he engaged in a nobler work, a defence of the christian religion, of which part was published after his death.' johnson's _works_, vii. , and addison's _works_, ed. , v. . [ ] dr. beattie was so kindly entertained in england, that he had not yet returned home. boswell. beattie was staying in london till his pension got settled. early in july he had been told that he was to have a pension of £ a year (_ante_, ii. , note ). it was not till aug. that it was conferred. on july , he, in company with sir joshua reynolds, received the degree of d.c.l. at oxford. on aug. , he had a long interview with the king; 'who asked,' beattie records, 'whether we had any good preachers at aberdeen. i said "yes," and named campbell and gerard, with whose names, however, i did not find that he was acquainted.' it was this same summer that reynolds painted him in 'the allegorical picture representing the triumph of truth over scepticism and infidelity' (_post_, oct. , note). forbes's _beattie_, ed. , pp. - , . [ ] dr. johnson's burgess-ticket was in these words:--'aberdoniae, vigesimo tertio die mensis augusti, anno domini millesimo septingentesimo septuagesimo tertio, in presentia honorabilium virorum, jacobi jopp, armigeri, praepositi, adami duff, gulielmi young, georgii marr, et gulielmi forbes, balivorum, gulielmi rainie decani guildae, et joannis nicoll thesaurarii dicti burgi. 'quo die vir generosus et doctrina clarus, samuel johnson, ll.d. receptus et admissus fuit in municipes et fratres guildae: praefati burgi de aberdeen. in deditissimi amoris et affectus ac eximiae observantiae tesseram, quibus dicti magistratus eum amplectuntur. extractum per me, alex. carnegie.' boswell. 'i was presented with the freedom of the city, not in a gold box, but in good latin. let me pay scotland one just praise; there was no officer gaping for a fee; this could have been said of no city on the english side of the tweed.' _piozzi letters_, i. . baretti, in a ms. note on this passage, says:--'throughout england nothing is done for nothing. stop a moment to look at the rusticks mowing a field, and they will presently quit their work to come to you, and ask something to drink.' aberdeen conferred its freedom so liberally about this time that it is surprising that boswell was passed over. george colman the younger, when a youth of eighteen, was sent to king's college. he says in his worthless _random records_, ii. :--'i had scarcely been a week in old aberdeen, when the lord provost of the new town invited me to drink wine with him one evening in the town hall; there i found a numerous company assembled. the object of this meeting was soon declared to me by the lord provost, who drank my health, and presented me with the freedom of the city.' two of his english fellow-students, of a little older standing, had, he said, received the same honour. his statement seemed to me incredible; but by the politeness of the town-clerk, w. gordon, esq., i have found out that in the main it is correct. colman, with one of the two, was admitted as an honorary burgess on oct. , , being described as _vir generosus_; the other had been admitted earlier. the population of aberdeen and its suburbs in was, according to pennant, , . pennant's _tour_, p. . [ ] 'king's college in aberdeen was an exact model of the university of paris. its founder, bishop [not archbishop] elphinstone, had been a professor at paris and at orleans.' burton's _scotland_, ed. , iii. . on p. , dr. burton describes him as 'the rich accomplished scholar and french courtier elphinstone, munificently endowing a university after the model of the university of paris.' [ ] boswell projected the following works:-- . an edition of _johnson's poems. ante_, i. . . a work in which the merit of addison's poetry shall be maintained, _ib_. p. . . a _history of sweden_, ii. . . a_ life of thomas ruddiman, ib._ p. . . an edition of walton's_ lives_ iii. . . a _history of the civil war in_ _great britain in_ and , _ib._, p. . . a _life of sir robert sibbald, ib._ p. . an account of his own travels, _ib_. p. . . a collection, with notes, of old tenures and charters of scotland, _ib_. p. , note . . a _history of james iv._ . 'a quarto volume to be embellished with fine plates, on the subject of the controversy (_ante_, ii. ) occasioned by the _beggar's opera._' murray's _johnsoniana_, ed. , p. . thomas boswell received from james iv. the estate of auchinleck. _ante_, ii. . see _post_, nov. . [ ] mackintosh says, in his _life_, i. :--'in october, , i was admitted into the greek class, then taught by mr. leslie, who did not aspire beyond teaching us the first rudiments of the language; more would, i believe, have been useless to his scholars.' [ ] 'boswell was very angry that the aberdeen professors would not talk.' _piozzi letters_, i. . dr. robertson and dr. blair, whom boswell, five years earlier, invited to meet johnson at supper, 'with an excess of prudence hardly opened their lips' (_ante_, ii. ). at glasgow the professors did not dare to talk much (_post_, oct. ). on another occasion when johnson came in, the company 'were all as quiet as a school upon the entrance of the headmaster.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] dr. beattie says that this printer was strahan. he had seen the letter mentioned by gerard, and many other letters too from the bishop to strahan. 'they were,' he continues, 'very particularly acquainted.' he adds that 'strahan was eminently skilled in composition, and had corrected (as he told me himself) the phraseology of both mr. hume and dr. robertson.' forbes's _beattie_, ed. , p. . [ ] an instance of this is given in johnson's _works_, viii. :--'warburton had in the early part of his life pleased himself with the notice of inferior wits, and corresponded with the enemies of pope. a letter was produced, when he had perhaps himself forgotten it, in which he tells concanen, "dryden, i observe, borrows for want of leisure, and pope for want of genius; milton out of pride, and addison out of modesty."' [ ] 'goldsmith asserted that warburton was a weak writer. "warburton," said johnson, "may be absurd, but he will never be weak; he flounders well."' stockdale's _memoirs_, ii. . see appendix a. [ ] _the doctrine of grace; or the office and operations of the holy spirit vindicated from the insults of infidelity and the abuses of fanaticism_, . [ ] _a letter to the bishop of gloucester, occasioned by his tract on the office and operations of the holy spirit_, by john wesley, . [ ] malone records:--'i could not find from mr. walpole that his father [sir robert] read any other book but sydenham in his retirement.' to his admiration of sydenham his death was attributed; for it led him to treat himself wrongly when he was suffering from the stone. prior's _malone_, p. . johnson wrote a _life of sydenham_. in it he ridicules the notion that 'a man eminent for integrity _practised medicine by chance, and grew wise only by murder_.' _works_, vi. . [ ] all this, as dr. johnson suspected at the time, was the immediate invention of his own lively imagination; for there is not one word of it in mr. locke's complimentary performance. my readers will, i have no doubt, like to be satisfied, by comparing them; and, at any rate, it may entertain them to read verses composed by our great metaphysician, when a bachelor in physick. auctori, in tractatum ejus de febribus. febriles aestus, victumque ardoribus orbem flevit, non tantis par medicina malis. nam post mille artes, medicae tentamina curae, ardet adhuc febris; nec velit arte regi. praeda sumus flammis; solum hoc speramus ab igne, ut restet paucus, quem capit urna, cinis. dum quaerit medicus febris caussamque, modumque, flammarum & tenebras, & sine luce faces; quas tractat patitur flammas, & febre calescens, corruit ipse suis victima rapta focis. qui tardos potuit morbos, artusque trementes, sistere, febrili se videt igne rapi. sic faber exesos fulsit tibicine muros; dum trahit antiquas lenta ruina domos. sed si flamma vorax miseras incenderit aedes, unica flagrantes tunc sepelire salus. fit fuga, tectonicas nemo tunc invocat artes; cum perit artificis non minus usta domus. se tandem _sydenham_ febrisque scholaeque furori opponens, morbi quaerit, & artis opem. non temere incusat tectae putedinis [putredinis] ignes; nec fictus, febres qui fovet, humor erit. non bilem ille movet, nulla hic pituita; salutis quae spes, si fallax ardeat intus aqua? nec doctas magno rixas ostentat hiatu, quîs ipsis major febribus ardor inest. innocuas placide corpus jubet urere flammas, et justo rapidos temperat igne focos. quid febrim exstinguat, varius quid postulet usus, solari aegrotos, qua potes arte, docet, hactenus ipsa suum timuit natura calorem, dum saepe incerto, quo calet, igne perit: dum reparat tacitos male provida sanguinis ignes, praslusit busto, fit calor iste rogus. jam secura suas foveant praecordia flammas, quem natura negat, dat medicina modum. nec solum faciles compescit sanguinis aestus, dum dubia est inter spemque metumque salus; sed fatale malum domuit, quodque astra malignum credimus, iratam vel genuisse _stygem_. extorsit _lachesi_ cultros, pestique venenum abstulit, & tantos non sinit esse metus. quis tandem arte nova domitam mitescere pestem credat, & antiquas ponere posse minas? post tot mille neces, cumulataque funera busto, victa jacet parvo vulnere dira lues. aetheriae quanquam spargunt contagia flammae, quicquid inest istis ignibus, ignis erit. delapsae coelo flammae licet acrius urant has gelida exstingui non nisi morte putas? tu meliora paras victrix medicina; tuusque, pestis quae superat cuncta, triumphus eris [erit]. vive liber, victis febrilibus ignibus; unus te simul & mundum qui manet, ignis erit. j. lock, a.m. ex. aede christi, oxon. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] 'one of its ornaments [i.e. of marischal college] is the picture of arthur johnston, who was principal of the college, and who holds among the latin poets of scotland the next place to the elegant buchanan.' johnson's _works_, ix. . pope attacking benson, who endeavoured to raise himself to fame by erecting monuments to milton, and printing editions of johnson's version of the _psalms_, introduces the scotch poet in the _dunciad_:-- on two unequal crutches propped he came, milton's on this, on that one johnston's name.' _dunciad_, bk. iv. l. iii. johnson wrote to boswell for a copy of johnston's _poems_ (_ante_, iii. ) and for his likeness (_ante_, march , ). [ ] 'education is here of the same price as at st. andrews, only the session is but from the st of november to the st of april' [five months, instead of seven]. _piozzi letters_, i. . in his _works_ (ix. ) johnson by mistake gives eight months to the st. andrews session. on p. he gives it rightly as seven. [ ] beattie, as an aberdeen professor, was grieved at this saying when he read the book. 'why is it recorded?' he asked. 'for no reason that i can imagine, unless it be in order to return evil for good.' forbes's _beattie_, ed. . p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, nov. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . johnson, no doubt, was reminded of this story by his desire to get this book. later on (_ante_, iii. ) he asked boswell 'to be vigilant and get him graham's _telemachus_.' [ ] i am sure i have related this story exactly as dr. johnson told it to me; but a friend who has often heard him tell it, informs me that he usually introduced a circumstance which ought not to be omitted. 'at last, sir, graham, having now got to about the pitch of looking at one man, and talking to another, said _doctor_, &c.' 'what effect (dr. johnson used to add) this had on goldsmith, who was as irascible as a hornet, may be easily conceived.' boswell. [ ] graham was of eton college. [ ] it was to johnson that the invitation was due. 'what i was at the english church at aberdeen i happened to be espied by lady dr. middleton, whom i had sometime seen in london; she told what she had seen to mr. boyd, lord errol's brother, who wrote us an invitation to lord errol's house.' _piozzi letters_, i. . boswell, perhaps, was not unwilling that the reader should think that it was to him that the compliment was paid. [ ] 'in my friend, tom cumming the quaker, said he would not fight, but he would drive an ammunition cart.' _ante_, april , . smollett (_history of england_, iv. ) describes how, in , the conquest of senegal was due to this 'sensible quaker,' 'this honest quaker,' as he calls him, who not only conceived the project, but 'was concerned as a principal director and promoter of the expedition. if it was the first military scheme of any quaker, let it be remembered it was also the first successful expedition of this war, and one of the first that ever was carried on according to the pacifick system of the quakers, without the loss of a drop of blood on either side.' if there was no bloodshed, it was by good luck, for 'a regular engagement was warmly maintained on both sides.' it was a quaker, then, who led the van in the long line of conquests which have made chatham's name so famous. mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'dr. johnson told me that cummyns (sic) the famous quaker, whose friendship he valued very highly, fell a sacrifice to the insults of the newspapers; having declared to him on his death-bed, that the pain of an anonymous letter, written in some of the common prints of the day, fastened on his heart, and threw him into the slow fever of which he died.' mr. seward records (_anec_. ii. ):--'mr. cummins, the celebrated american quaker, said of mr. pitt (lord chatham):--"the first time i come to mr. pitt upon any business i find him extremely ignorant; the second time i come to him, i find him completely informed upon it."' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'from the windows the eye wanders over the sea that separates scotland from norway, and when the winds beat with violence, must enjoy all the terrifick grandeur of the tempestuous ocean. i would not for any amusement wish for a storm; but as storms, whether wished or not, will sometimes happen, i may say, without violation of humanity, that i should willingly look out upon them from slanes castle.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] horace. _odes_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] perhaps the poverty of their host led to this talk. sir walter scott wrote in :--'imprudence, or ill-fortune as fatal as the sands of belhelvie [shifting sands that had swallowed up a whole parish], has swallowed up the estate of errol, excepting this dreary mansion-house and a farm or two adjoining.' lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iv. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] since the accession of george i. only one parliament had had so few as five sessions, and it was dissolved before its time by his death. one had six sessions, six seven sessions, (including the one that was now sitting,) and one eight. there was therefore so little dread of a sudden dissolution that for five years of each parliament the members durst contradict the populace. [ ] to miss burney johnson once said:--'sir joshua reynolds possesses the largest share of inoffensiveness of any man that i know.' _memoirs of dr. burney_, i. . 'once at mr. thrale's, when reynolds left the room, johnson observed:--"there goes a man not to be spoiled by prosperity."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . burke wrote of him:--'he had a strong turn for humour, and well saw the weak sides of things. he enjoyed every circumstance of his good fortune, and had no affectation on that subject. and i do not know a fault or weakness of his that he did not convert into something that bordered on a virtue, instead of pushing it to the confines of a vice.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] he visited devonshire in . _ante_, i. . [ ] horace walpole, describing the coronation of george iii, writes:-- 'one there was ... the noblest figure i ever saw, the high-constable of scotland, lord errol; as one saw him in a space capable of containing him, one admired him. at the wedding, dressed in tissue, he looked like one of the giants in guildhall, new gilt. it added to the energy of his person, that one considered him acting so considerable a part in that very hall, where so few years ago one saw his father, lord kilmarnock, condemned to the block.' _letters_, iii. . sir william forbes says:--'he often put me in mind of an ancient hero, and i remember dr. johnson was positive that he resembled homer's character of sarpedon.' _life of beattie_, ed. , appendix d. mrs. piozzi says:--'the earl dressed in his robes at the coronation and mrs. siddons in the character of murphy's euphrasia were the noblest specimens of the human race i ever saw.' _synonymy_, i. . he sprang from a race of rebels. 'he united in his person,' says forbes, 'the four earldoms of errol, kilmarnock, linlithgow, and callander.' the last two were attainted in , and kilmarnock in . _life of beattie_, appendix d. [ ] lord chesterfield, in his letters to his son [iii. ], complains of one who argued in an indiscriminate manner with men of all ranks, probably the noble lord had felt with some uneasiness what it was to encounter stronger abilities than his own. if a peer will engage at foils with his inferior in station, he must expect that his inferior in station will avail himself of every advantage; otherwise it is not a fair trial of strength and skill. the same will hold in a contest of reason, or of wit.--a certain king entered the lists of genius with voltaire. the consequence was, that, though the king had great and brilliant talents, voltaire had such a superiority that his majesty could not bear it; and the poet was dismissed, or escaped, from that court.--in the reign of james i. of england, crichton, lord sanquhar, a peer of scotland, from a vain ambition to excel a fencing-master in his own art, played at rapier and dagger with him. the fencing-master, whose fame and bread were at stake, put out one of his lordship's eyes. exasperated at this, lord sanquhar hired ruffians, and had the fencing-master assassinated; for which his lordship was capitally tried, condemned, and hanged. not being a peer of england, he was tried by the name of robert crichton, esq.; but he was admitted to be a baron of three hundred years' standing.--see the _state trials_; and the _history of england_ by hume, who applauds the impartial justice executed upon a man of high rank. boswell. the 'stronger abilities' that chesterfield encountered were johnson's. boswell thought wrongly that it was of johnson that his lordship complained in his letters to his son. _ante_, i. , note . 'a certain king' was frederick the great. _ante_, i. . the fencing-master was murdered in his own house in london, five years after sanquhar (or sanquire) had lost his eye. bacon, who was solicitor-general, said:--'certainly the circumstance of time is heavy unto you; it is now five years since this unfortunate man, turner, be it upon accident or despight, gave the provocation which was the seed of your malice.' _state trials_, ii. , and hume's _history_, ed. , vi. . [ ] _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] perhaps lord errol was the scotch lord mentioned _ante_, iii. , and the nobleman mentioned _ib_. p. . [ ] 'pitied by gentle minds kilmarnock died.' _ante_. i. . [ ] sir walter scott describes the talk that he had in near slains castle with an old fisherman. 'the old man says slains is now inhabited by a mr. bowles, who comes so far from the southward that naebody kens whare he comes frae. "was he frae the indies?" "na; he did not think he came that road. he was far frae the southland. naebody ever heard the name of the place; but he had brought more guid out o' peterhead than a' the lords he had seen in slains, and he had seen three."' lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iv. . the first of the three was johnson's host. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. , note . [ ] smollett, in _humphry clinker_ (letter of sept. ), writing of the highlanders and their chiefs, says:--'the original attachment is founded on something prior to the _feudal system_, about which the writers of this age have made such a pother, as if it was a new discovery, like the _copernican system_ ... for my part i expect to see the use of trunk-hose and buttered ale ascribed to the influence of the _feudal system_.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mme. riccoboni wrote to garrick on may , :--'vous conviendrez que les nobles sont peu ménagés par vos auteurs; le sot, le fat, ou le malhonnête homme mêlé dans l'intrigue est presque toujours un lord.' _garrick corres_, ii. . dr. moore (_view of society in france_, i. ) writing in says:--'i am convinced there is no country in europe where royal favour, high birth, and the military profession could be allowed such privileges as they have in france, and where there would be so few instances of their producing rough and brutal behaviour to inferiors.' mrs. piozzi, writing in , though she did not publish her book till , said:--'the french are really a contented race of mortals;--precluded almost from possibility of adventure, the low parisian leads gentle, humble life, nor envies that greatness he never can obtain.' _journey through france_, i. . [ ] he is the worthy son of a worthy father, the late lord strichen, one of our judges, to whose kind notice i was much obliged. lord strichen was a man not only honest, but highly generous; for after his succession to the family estate, he paid a large sum of debts contracted by his predecessor, which he was not under any obligation to pay. let me here, for the credit of ayrshire, my own county, record a noble instance of liberal honesty in william hutchison, drover, in lanehead, kyle, who formerly obtained a full discharge from his creditors upon a composition of his debts; but upon being restored to good circumstances, invited his creditors last winter to a dinner, without telling the reason, and paid them their full sums, principal and interest. they presented him with a piece of plate, with an inscription to commemorate this extraordinary instance of true worth; which should make some people in scotland blush, while, though mean themselves, they strut about under the protection of great alliance, conscious of the wretchedness of numbers who have lost by them, to whom they never think of making reparation, but indulge themselves and their families in most unsuitable expence. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. ; iii. ; and iv. june , . [ ] malone says that 'lord auchinleck told his son one day that it would cost him more trouble to hide his ignorance in the scotch and english law than to show his knowledge. this mr. boswell owned he had found to be true.' _european magazine_, , p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note , and iv. . [ ] colman had translated _terence. ante_, iv. . [ ] dr. nugent was burke's father-in-law. _ante_, i. . [ ] lord charlemont left behind him a _history of italian poetry_. hardy's _charlemont_, i. , ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. , note . [ ] since the first edition, it has been suggested by one of the club, who knew mr. vesey better than dr. johnson and i, that we did not assign him a proper place; for he was quite unskilled in irish antiquities and celtick learning, but might with propriety have been made professor of architecture, which he understood well, and has left a very good specimen of his knowledge and taste in that art, by an elegant house built on a plan of his own formation, at lucan, a few miles from dublin. boswell. see _ante_, iv. . [ ] sir william jones, who died at the age of forty-seven, had 'studied eight languages critically, eight less perfectly, but all intelligible with a dictionary, and twelve least perfectly, but all attainable.' teignmouth's _life of sir w. jones_, ed. , p. . see _ante_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mackintosh in his _life_, ii. , says:--'from the refinements of abstruse speculation johnson was withheld, partly perhaps by that repugnance to such subtleties which much experience often inspires, and partly also by a secret dread that they might disturb those prejudices in which his mind had found repose from the agitations of doubt.' [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note . [ ] our club, originally at the turk's head, gerrard-street, then at prince's, sackville-street, now at baxter's, dover-street, which at mr. garrick's funeral acquired a _name_ for the first time, and was called the literary club, was instituted in , and now consists of thirty-five members. it has, since , been greatly augmented; and though dr. johnson with justice observed, that, by losing goldsmith, garrick, nugent, chamier, beauclerk, we had lost what would make an eminent club, yet when i mentioned, as an accession, mr. fox, dr. george fordyce, sir charles bunbury, lord ossory, mr. gibbon, dr. adam smith, mr. r.b. sheridan, the bishops of kilaloe and st. asaph, dean marley, mr. steevens, mr. dunning, sir joseph banks, dr. scott of the commons, earl spencer, mr. windham of norfolk, lord elliott, mr. malone, dr. joseph warton, the rev. thomas warton, lord lucan, mr. burke junior, lord palmerston, dr. burney, sir william hamilton, and dr. warren, it will be acknowledged that we might establish a second university of high reputation. boswell. mr. (afterwards sir) william jones wrote in (_life_, p. ):--'of our club i will only say that there is no branch of human knowledge on which some of our members are not capable of giving information.' [ ] here, unluckily, the windows had no pullies; and dr. johnson, who was constantly eager for fresh air, had much struggling to get one of them kept open. thus he had a notion impressed upon him, that this wretched defect was general in scotland; in consequence of which he has erroneously enlarged upon it in his _journey_. i regretted that he did not allow me to read over his book before it was printed. i should have changed very little; but i should have suggested an alteration in a few places where he has laid himself open to be attacked. i hope i should have prevailed with him to omit or soften his assertion, that 'a scotsman must be a sturdy moralist, who does not prefer scotland to truth,' for i really think it is not founded; and it is harshly said. boswell. johnson, after a half-apology for 'these diminutive observations' on scotch windows and fresh air, continues:--'the true state of every nation is the state of common life.' _works_, ix. . boswell a second time (_ante_, ii. ) returns to johnson's assertion that 'a scotchman must be a very sturdy moralist who does not love scotland better than truth; he will always love it better than inquiry.' _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] a protest may be entered on the part of most scotsmen against the doctor's taste in this particular. a finnon haddock dried over the smoke of the sea-weed, and sprinkled with salt water during the process, acquires a relish of a very peculiar and delicate flavour, inimitable on any other coast than that of aberdeenshire. some of our edinburgh philosophers tried to produce their equal in vain. i was one of a party at a dinner, where the philosophical haddocks were placed in competition with the genuine finnon-fish. these were served round without distinction whence they came; but only one gentleman, out of twelve present, espoused the cause of philosophy. walter scott. [ ] it is the custom in scotland for the judges of the court of session to have the title of _lords_, from their estates; thus mr. burnett is lord _monboddo_, as mr. home was lord _kames_. there is something a little awkward in this; for they are denominated in deeds by their _names_, with the addition of 'one of the senators of the college of justice;' and subscribe their christian and surnames, as _james burnett_, _henry home_, even in judicial acts. boswell. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson says:--'a judge may be a farmer, but he is not to geld his own pigs.' [ ] 'not to admire is all the art i know to make men happy and to keep them so.' pope, _imitations of horace_, epistles, i. vi. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , among the deaths is entered 'sir james lowther, bart., reckoned the richest commoner in great britain, and worth above a million.' according to lord shelburne, lord sunderland, who had been advised 'to nominate lowther one of his treasury on account of his great property,' appointed him to call on him. after waiting for some time he rang to ask whether he had come, 'the servants answered that nobody had called; upon his repeating the inquiry they said that there was an old man, somewhat wet, sitting by the fireside in the hall, who they supposed had some petition to deliver to his lordship. when he went out it proved to be sir james lowther. lord sunderland desired him to be sent about his business, saying that no such mean fellow should sit at his treasury.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] i do not know what was at this time the state of the parliamentary interest of the ancient family of lowther; a family before the conquest; but all the nation knows it to be very extensive at present. a due mixture of severity and kindness, oeconomy and munificence, characterises its present representative. boswell. boswell, most unhappily not clearly seeing where his own genius lay, too often sought to obtain fame and position by the favour of some great man. for some years he courted in a very gross manner 'the present representative,' the first earl of lonsdale, who treated him with great brutality. _letters of boswell_, pp. , , , and _ante_, iv. may , . in the _ann. reg._ , p. , it is shewn how by this bad man 'the whole county of cumberland was thrown into a state of the greatest terror and confusion; four hundred ejectments were served in one day.' dr. a. carlyle (_auto._ p. ) says that 'he was more detested than any man alive, as a shameless political sharper, a domestic bashaw, and an intolerable tyrant over his tenants and dependants.' lord albemarle (_memoirs of rockingham,_ ii. ) describes the 'bad lord lonsdale. he exacted a serf-like submission from his poor and abject dependants. he professed a thorough contempt for modern refinements. grass grew in the neglected approaches to his mansion.... awe and silence pervaded the inhabitants [of penrith] when the gloomy despot traversed their streets. he might have been taken for a judge jefferies about to open a royal commission to try them as state criminals... in some years of his life he resisted the payment of all bills.' among his creditors was wordsworth's father, 'who died leaving the poet and four other helpless children. the executors of the will, foreseeing the result of a legal contest with _a millionaire,_ withdrew opposition, trusting to lord lonsdale's sense of justice for payment. they leaned on a broken reed, the wealthy debtor "died and made no sign."' [ _henry vi,_ act iii. sc. .] see de quincey's _works,_ iii. . [ ] 'let us not,' he says, 'make too much haste to despise our neighbours. our own cathedrals are mouldering by unregarded dilapidation. it seems to be part of the despicable philosophy of the time to despise monuments of sacred magnificence.' _works_, ix. . [ ] note by lord _hailes_. 'the cathedral of elgin was burnt by the lord of badenoch, because the bishop of moray had pronounced an award not to his liking. the indemnification that the see obtained was, that the lord of badenoch stood for three days bare-footed at the great gate of the cathedral. the story is in the chartulary of elgin.' boswell. the cathedral was rebuilt in - , but the lead was stripped from the roof by the regent murray, and the building went to ruin. murray's _handbook_, ed. , p. . 'there is,' writes johnson (_works_, ix. ), 'still extant in the books of the council an order ... directing that the lead, which covers the two cathedrals of elgin and aberdeen, shall be taken away, and converted into money for the support of the army.... the two churches were stripped, and the lead was shipped to be sold in holland. i hope every reader will rejoice that this cargo of sacrilege was lost at sea.' on this horace walpole remarks (_letters_, vii. ):--'i confess i have not quite so heinous an idea of sacrilege as dr. johnson. of all kinds of robbery, that appears to me the lightest species which injures nobody. dr. johnson is so pious that in his journey to your country he flatters himself that all his readers will join him in enjoying the destruction of two dutch crews, who were swallowed up by the ocean after they had robbed a church.' [ ] i am not sure whether the duke was at home. but, not having the honour of being much known to his grace, i could not have presumed to enter his castle, though to introduce even so celebrated a stranger. we were at any rate in a hurry to get forward to the wildness which we came to see. perhaps, if this noble family had still preserved that sequestered magnificence which they maintained when catholicks, corresponding with the grand duke of tuscany, we might have been induced to have procured proper letters of introduction, and devoted some time to the contemplation of venerable superstitious state. boswell. burnet (_history of his own times_, ii. , and iii. ) mentions the duke of gordon, a papist, as holding edinburgh castle for james ii. in . [ ] 'in the way, we saw for the first time some houses with fruit-trees about them. the improvements of the scotch are for immediate profit; they do not yet think it quite worth their while to plant what will not produce something to be eaten or sold in a very little time.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'this was the first time, and except one the last, that i found any reason to complain of a scottish table.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] the following year johnson told hannah more that 'when he and boswell stopt a night at the spot (as they imagined) where the weird sisters appeared to macbeth, the idea so worked upon their enthusiasm, that it quite deprived them of rest. however they learnt the next morning, to their mortification, that they had been deceived, and were quite in another part of the country' h. more's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] murphy (_life_, p. ) says that 'his manner of reciting verses was wonderfully impressive.' according to mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'whoever once heard him repeat an ode of horace would be long before they could endure to hear it repeated by another.' [ ] then pronounced _affléck_, though now often pronounced as it is written. ante, ii. . [ ] at this stage of his journey johnson recorded:--'there are more beggars than i have ever seen in england; they beg, if not silently, yet very modestly.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see ante, p. , note . [ ] duncan's monument; a huge column on the roadside near fores, more than twenty feet high, erected in commemoration of the final retreat of the danes from scotland, and properly called swene's stone. walter scott. [ ] swift wrote to pope on may , :--'pray who is that mr. glover, who writ the epick poem called _leonidas_, which is reprinting here, and has great vogue?' swift's _works_ ( ), xx. . 'it passed through four editions in the first year of its publication ( - ).' lowndes's _bibl. man_. p. . horace walpole, in , mentions _leonidas_ glover (_letters_, i. ); and in hannah more writes (_memoirs_, i. ):--'i was much amused with hearing old leonidas glover sing his own fine ballad of _hosier's ghost_, which was very affecting. he is past eighty [he was seventy-three]. mr. walpole coming in just afterwards, i told him how highly i had been pleased. he begged me to entreat for a repetition of it. it was the satire conveyed in this little ballad upon the conduct of sir robert walpole's ministry which is thought to have been a remote cause of his resignation. it was a very curious circumstance to see his son listening to the recital of it with so much complacency.' [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, oct. . [ ] 'nairne is the boundary in this direction between the highlands and lowlands; and until within a few years both english and gaelic were spoken here. one of james vi.'s witticisms was to boast that in scotland he had a town "sae lang that the folk at the tae end couldna understand the tongue spoken at the tother."' murray's _handbook for scotland_, ed. , p. . 'here,' writes johnson (_works_, ix. ), 'i first saw peat fires, and first heard the erse language.' as he heard the girl singing erse, so wordsworth thirty years later heard the solitary reaper:-- 'yon solitary highland lass reaping and singing by herself.' [ ] 'verse softens toil, however rude the sound; she feels no biting pang the while she sings; nor, as she turns the giddy wheel around, revolves the sad vicissitude of things.' _contemplation._ london: printed for r. dodsley in pall-mall, and sold by m. cooper, at the globe in paternoster-row, . the author's name is not on the title-page. in the _brit. mus. cata._ the poem is entered under its title. mr. nichols (_lit. illus._ v. ) says that the author was the rev. richard gifford [not giffard] of balliol college, oxford. he adds that 'mr. gifford mentioned to him with much satisfaction the fact that johnson quoted the poem in his _dictionary_.' it was there very likely that boswell had seen the lines. they are quoted under _wheel_ (with changes made perhaps intentionally by johnson), as follows: 'verse sweetens care however rude the sound; all at her work the village maiden sings; nor, as she turns the giddy wheel around, revolves the sad vicissitudes of things.' _contemplation_, which was published two years after gray's _elegy_, was suggested by it. the rising, not the parting day, is described. the following verse precedes the one quoted by johnson:-- 'ev'n from the straw-roofed cot the note of joy flows full and frequent, as the village-fair, whose little wants the busy hour employ, chanting some rural ditty soothes her care.' bacon, in his _essay of vicissitude of things_ (no. ), says:--'it is not good to look too long upon these turning _wheels of vicissitude_ lest we become _giddy_' this may have suggested gifford's last two lines. _reflections on a grave, &c._ (_ante_, ii. ), published in , and perhaps written in part by johnson, has a line borrowed from this poem:-- 'these all the hapless state of mortals show the sad vicissitude of things below.' cowper, _table-talk_, ed. , i. , writes of 'the sweet vicissitudes of day and night.' the following elegant version of these lines by mr. a. t. barton, fellow and tutor of johnson's own college, will please the classical reader:-- musa levat duros, quamvis rudis ore, labores; inter opus cantat rustica pyrrha suum; nec meminit, secura rotam dum versat euntem, non aliter nostris sortibus ire vices. [ ] he was the brother of the rev. john m'aulay (_post_, oct. ), the grandfather of lord macaulay. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in scotland, there is a great deal of preparation before administering the sacrament. the minister of the parish examines the people as to their fitness, and to those of whom he approves gives little pieces of tin, stamped with the name of the parish as _tokens_, which they must produce before receiving it. this is a species of priestly power, and sometimes may be abused. i remember a lawsuit brought by a person against his parish minister, for refusing him admission to that sacred ordinance. boswell. [ ] see _ post_, sept. and . [ ] mr. trevelyan (_life of macaulay_, ed. , i. ) says: 'johnson pronounced that mr. macaulay was not competent to have written the book that went by his name; a decision which, to those who happen to have read the work, will give a very poor notion my ancestor's abilities.' [ ] 'the thane of cawdor lives, a prosperous gentleman.' _macbeth_, act i. sc. . [ ] according to murray's _handbook,_ ed. , p. , no part of the castle is older than the fifteenth century. [ ] see _post_, nov. . [ ] the historian. _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, nov. . [ ] see _post_, oct. . [ ] baretti was the italian. boswell disliked him (_ante_, ii. note), and perhaps therefore described him merely as 'a man of _some_ literature.' baretti complained to malone that 'the story as told gave an unfair representation of him.' he had, he said, 'observed to johnson that the petition _lead us not into temptation_ ought rather to be addressed to the tempter of mankind than a benevolent creator. "pray, sir," said johnson, "do you know who was the author of the lord's prayer?" baretti, who did not wish to get into any serious dispute and who appears to be an infidel, by way of putting an end to the conversation, only replied:--"oh, sir, you know by _our_ religion (roman catholic) we are not permitted to read the scriptures. you can't therefore expect an answer."' prior's _malone_, p. . sir joshua reynolds, on hearing this from malone, said:--'this turn which baretti now gives to the matter was an after-thought; for he once said to me myself:--"there are various opinions about the writer of that prayer; some give it to st. augustine, some to st. chrysostom, &c. what is your opinion? "' _ib_. p. . mrs. piozzi says that she heard 'baretti tell a clergyman the story of dives and lazarus as the subject of a poem he once had composed in the milanese district, expecting great credit for his powers of invention.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] goldsmith (_present slate of polite learning_, chap. ) thus wrote of servitorships: 'surely pride itself has dictated to the fellows of our colleges the absurd passion of being attended at meals, and on other public occasions, by those poor men who, willing to be scholars, come in upon some charitable foundation. it implies a contradiction for men to be at once learning the _liberal_ arts, and at the same time treated as _slaves_; at once studying freedom and practising servitude.' yet a young man like whitefield was willing enough to be a servitor. he had been a waiter in his mother's inn; he was now a waiter in a college, but a student also. see my _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. . [ ] dr. johnson did not neglect what he had undertaken. by his interest with the rev. dr. adams, master of pembroke college, oxford, where he was educated for some time, he obtained a servitorship for young m'aulay. but it seems he had other views; and i believe went abroad. boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'i once drank tea,' writes lamb, 'in company with two methodist divines of different persuasions. before the first cup was handed round, one of these reverend gentlemen put it to the other, with all due solemnity, whether he chose to _say anything_. it seems it is the custom with some sectaries to put up a short prayer before this meal also. his reverend brother did not at first quite apprehend him, but upon an explanation, with little less importance he made answer that it was not a custom known in his church.' _essay on grace before meat_. [ ] he could not bear to have it thought that, in any instance whatever, the scots are more pious than the english. i think grace as proper at breakfast as at any other meal. it is the pleasantest meal we have. dr. johnson has allowed the peculiar merit of breakfast in scotland. boswell. 'if an epicure could remove by a wish in quest of sensual gratification, wherever he had supped he would breakfast in scotland.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] bruce, the abyssinian traveller, found in the annals of that region a king named _brus_, which he chooses to consider the genuine orthography of the name. this circumstance occasioned some mirth at the court of gondar. walter scott. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note , and _post_, sept. . johnson, so far as i have observed, spelt the name _boswel_. [ ] sir eyre coote was born in . he took part in the battle of plassey in , and commanded at the reduction of pondicherry in . in - he went by land to europe. in he took command of the english army against hyder ali, whom he repeatedly defeated. he died in . chalmers's _biog. dict_. x. . there is a fine description of him in macaulay's _essays_, ed. , iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] reynolds wrote of johnson:--'he sometimes, it must be confessed, covered his ignorance by generals rather than appear ignorant' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] 'the barracks are very handsome, and form several regular and good streets.' pennant's _tour_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] here dr. johnson gave us part of a conversation held between a great personage and him, in the library at the queen's palace, in the course of which this contest was considered. i have been at great pains to get that conversation as perfectly preserved as possible. it may perhaps at some future time be given to the publick. boswell. for 'a great personage' see _ante_, i. ; and for the conversation, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , , ; iii. and june , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] booth acted _cato_, and wilks juba when addison's _cato_ was brought out. pope told spence that 'lord bolingbroke's carrying his friends to the house, and presenting booth with a purse of guineas for so well representing the character of a person "who rather chose to die than see a general for life," carried the success of the play much beyond what they ever expected.' spence's _anec_. p. . bolingbroke alluded to the duke of marlborough. pope in his _imitations of horace_, epist. i. introduces 'well-mouth'd booth.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and under sept. , . [ ] 'garrick used to tell, that johnson said of an actor who played sir harry wildair at lichfield, "there is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;" when, in fact, according to garrick's account, "he was the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon _boards_."' _ante_, ii. . [ ] mrs. cibber was the sister of dr. arne the musical composer, and the wife of theophilus cibber, colley cibber's son. she died in , and was buried in the cloisters of westminster abbey. baker's _biog. dram._ i. . [ ] see _ante_, under sept. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] johnson had set him to repeat the ninth commandment, and had with great glee put him right in the emphasis. _ante_, i. . [ ] act iii. sc. . [ ] boswell's suggestion is explained by the following passage in johnson's _works_, viii. :--'mallet was by his original one of the macgregors, a clan that became about sixty years ago, under the conduct of robin roy, so formidable and so infamous for violence and robbery, that the name was annulled by a legal abolition.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , where he said to an irish gentleman:--'do not make an union with us, sir. we should unite with you, only to rob you. we should have robbed the scotch, if they had had anything of which we could have robbed them.' [ ] it is remarkable that dr. johnson read this gentle remonstrance, and took no notice of it to me. boswell. see _post_, oct. , note. [ ] _st. matthew_, v. . [ ] it is odd that boswell did not suspect the parson, who, no doubt, had learnt the evening before from mr. keith that the two travellers would be present at his sermon. northcote (_life of reynolds_, ii. ) says that one day at sir joshua's dinner-table, when his host praised malone very highly for his laborious edition of _shakespeare_, he (northcote) 'rather hastily replied, "what a very despicable creature must that man be who thus devotes himself, and makes another man his god;" when boswell, who sat at my elbow, and was not in my thoughts at the time, cried out "oh! sir joshua, then that is me!"' [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) more cautiously says:--'here is a castle, called the castle of macbeth.' [ ] 'this short dialogue between duncan and banquo, whilst they are approaching the gates of macbeth's castle, has always appeared to me a striking instance of what in painting is termed _repose_. their conversation very naturally turns upon the beauty of its situation, and the pleasantness of the air; and banquo, observing the martlet's nests in every recess of the cornice, remarks that where those birds most breed and haunt the air is delicate. the subject of this quiet and easy conversation gives that repose so necessary to the mind after the tumultuous bustle of the preceding scenes, and perfectly contrasts the scene of horror that immediately succeeds. it seems as if shakespeare asked himself, what is a prince likely to say to his attendants on such an occasion? whereas the modern writers seem, on the contrary, to be always searching for new thoughts, such as would never occur to men in the situation which is represented. this also is frequently the practice of homer, who from the midst of battles and horrors relieves and refreshes the mind of the reader by introducing some quiet rural image, or picture of familiar domestick life.' johnson's _shakespeare_. northcote (_life of reynolds_, i. - ) quotes other notes by reynolds. [ ] in the original _senses_. act i, sc. . [ ] act i. sc. . [ ] boswell forgets _scoundrelism_, _ante_, p. , which, i suppose, johnson coined. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . peter paragraph is one of the characters in foote's comedy of _the orators_. [ ] when upon the subject of this _peregrinity_, he told me some particulars concerning the compilation of his _dictionary_, and concerning his throwing off lord chesterfield's patronage, of which very erroneous accounts have been circulated. these particulars, with others which he afterwards gave me,--as also his celebrated letter to lord chesterfield, which he dictated to me,--i reserve for his _life._ boswell. see _ante,_ i. , . [ ] see _ante,_ ii. , , and v. . [ ] it is the third edition, published in , that first bears this title. the first edition was published in , and the second in . [ ] 'one of them was a man of great liveliness and activity, of whom his companion said that he would tire any horse in inverness. both of them were civil and ready-handed civility seems part of the national character of highlanders.' _works,_ ix. . [ ] 'the way was very pleasant; the rock out of which the road was cut was covered with birch trees, fern, and heath. the lake below was beating its bank by a gentle wind.... in one part of the way we had trees on both sides for perhaps half a mile. such a length of shade, perhaps, scotland cannot shew in any other place.' _piozzi letters_, i. . the travellers must have passed close by the cottage where james mackintosh was living, a child of seven. [ ] boswell refers, i think, to a passage in act iv. sc. i of farquhar's comedy, where archer says to mrs. sullen:--'i can't at this distance, madam, distinguish the figures of the embroidery.' this passage is copied by goldsmith in _she stoops to conquer_, act iii., where marlow says to miss hardcastle: 'odso! then you must shew me your embroidery.' [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) gives a long account of this woman. 'meal she considered as expensive food, and told us that in spring, when the goats gave milk, the children could live without it.' [ ] it is very odd, that when these roads were made, there was no care taken for _inns_. the _king's house_, and the _general's hut_, are miserable places; but the project and plans were purely military. walter scott. johnson found good entertainment here, 'we had eggs and bacon and mutton, with wine, rum, and whisky. i had water.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'mr. boswell, who between his father's merit and his own is sure of reception wherever he comes, sent a servant before,' &c. johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] on april , , johnson noted down: 'i passed the night in such sweet uninterrupted sleep as i have not known since i slept at fort augustus.' _pr. and med._ p. . on nov. , , he wrote to boswell: 'the best night that i have had these twenty years was at fort augustus.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] a mcqueen is a highland mode of expression. an englishman would say _one_ mcqueen. but where there are _clans_ or _tribes_ of men, distinguished by _patronymick_ surnames, the individuals of each are considered as if they were of different species, at least as much as nations are distinguished; so that a _mcqueen_, a _mcdonald_, a _mclean_, is said, as we say a frenchman, an italian, a spaniard. boswell. [ ] 'i praised the propriety of his language, and was answered that i need not wonder, for he had learnt it by grammar. by subsequent opportunities of observation i found that my host's diction had nothing peculiar. those highlanders that can speak english commonly speak it well, with few of the words and little of the tone by which a scotchman is distinguished ... by their lowland neighbours they would not willingly be taught; for they have long considered them as a mean and degenerate race.' johnson's _works_, ix. . he wrote to mrs. thrale: 'this man's conversation we were glad of while we staid. he had been out, as they call it, in forty-five, and still retained his old opinions.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] by the chevalier ramsay. [ ] 'from him we first heard of the general dissatisfaction which is now driving the highlanders into the other hemisphere; and when i asked him whether they would stay at home if they were well treated, he answered with indignation that no man willingly left his native country. johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'the chief glory of every people arises from its authors.' _ib._ v. . [ ] four years later, three years after goldsmith's death, johnson 'observed in lord scarsdale's dressing-room goldsmith's _animated nature_; and said, "here's our friend. the poor doctor would have been happy to hear of this."' _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. and ii. and _post_, sept. . mackintosh says: 'johnson's idea that a ship was a prison with the danger of drowning is taken from endymion porter's _consolation to howell_ on his imprisonment in the _fleet_, and was originally suggested by the pun.' _life of mackintosh_, ii. . the passage to which he refers is found in howell's letter of jan. , (book ii. letter ), in which he writes to porter:--'you go on to prefer my captivity in this _fleet_ to that of a voyager at sea, in regard that he is subject to storms and springing of leaks, to pirates and picaroons, with other casualties.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] this book has given rise to much enquiry, which has ended in ludicrous surprise. several ladies, wishing to learn the kind of reading which the great and good dr. johnson esteemed most fit for a young woman, desired to know what book he had selected for this highland nymph. 'they never adverted (said he) that i had no _choice_ in the matter. i have said that i presented her with a book which i _happened_ to have about me.' and what was this book? my readers, prepare your features for merriment. it was _cocker's arithmetick_!--wherever this was mentioned, there was a loud laugh, at which johnson, when present, used sometimes to be a little angry. one day, when we were dining at general oglethorpe's, where we had many a valuable day, i ventured to interrogate him. 'but, sir, is it not somewhat singular that you should _happen_ to have _cocker's arithmetick_ about you on your journey? what made you buy such a book at inverness?' he gave me a very sufficient answer. 'why, sir, if you are to have but one book with you upon a journey, let it be a book of science. when you have read through a book of entertainment, you know it, and it can do no more for you; but a book of science is inexhaustible.' boswell. johnson thus mentions his gift: 'i presented her with a book which i happened to have about me, and should not be pleased to think that she forgets me.' _works_, ix. . the first edition of _cocker's arithmetic_ was published about . _brit. mus. cata._ though johnson says that 'a book of science is inexhaustible,' yet in _the rambler_, no. , he asserts that 'the principles of arithmetick and geometry may be comprehended by a close attention in a few days.' mrs. piozzi says (_anec_. p. ) that 'when mr. johnson felt his fancy disordered, his constant recurrence was to arithmetic; and one day that he was confined to his chamber, and i enquired what he had been doing to divert himself, he shewed me a calculation which i could scarce be made to understand, so vast was the plan of it; no other indeed than that the national debt, computing it at £ , , , would, if converted into silver, serve to make a meridian of that metal, i forget how broad, for the globe of the whole earth.' see _ante_, iii. , and iv. , note . [ ] swift's _works_ ( ), xxiv. . [ ] 'we told the soldiers how kindly we had been treated at the garrison, and, as we were enjoying the benefit of their labours, begged leave to shew our gratitude by a small present.... they had the true military impatience of coin in their pockets, and had marched at least six miles to find the first place where liquor could be bought. having never been before in a place so wild and unfrequented i was glad of their arrival, because i knew that we had made them friends; and to gain still more of their goodwill we went to them, where they were carousing in the barn, and added something to our former gift.' _works_, ix. - . [ ] 'why rather sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, upon uneasy pallets stretching thee.' &c. _henry iv._ act iii. sc. . [ ] spain, in , sent a strong force under the duke of ormond to scotland in behalf of the chevalier. owing to storms only a few hundred men landed. these were joined by a large body of highlanders, but being attacked by general wightman, the clansmen dispersed and the spaniards surrendered. smollett's _england_, ed. , ii. . [ ] boswell mentions this _ante_, i. , as a proof of johnson's 'perceptive quickness.' [ ] dr. johnson, in his _journey_, thus beautifully describes his situation here:--'i sat down on a bank, such as a writer of romance might have delighted to feign. i had, indeed, no trees to whisper over my head; but a clear rivulet streamed at my feet. the day was calm, the air soft, and all was rudeness, silence, and solitude. before me, and on either side, were high hills, which, by hindering the eye from ranging, forced the mind to find entertainment for itself. whether i spent the hour well, i know not; for here i first conceived the thought of this narration.' the _critical reviewers_, with a spirit and expression worthy of the subject, say,--'we congratulate the publick on the event with which this quotation concludes, and are fully persuaded that the hour in which the entertaining traveller conceived this narrative will be considered, by every reader of taste, as a fortunate event in the annals of literature. were it suitable to the task in which we are at present engaged, to indulge ourselves in a poetical flight, we would invoke the winds of the caledonian mountains to blow for ever, with their softest breezes, on the bank where our author reclined, and request of flora, that it might be perpetually adorned with the gayest and most fragrant productions of the year.' boswell. johnson thus described the scene to mrs. thrale:--'i sat down to take notes on a green bank, with a small stream running at my feet, in the midst of savage solitude, with mountains before me and on either hand covered with heath. i looked around me, and wondered that i was not more affected, but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be put in motion.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'the villagers gathered about us in considerable numbers, i believe without any evil intention, but with a very savage wildness of aspect and manner.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] the m'craas, or macraes, were since that time brought into the king's army, by the late lord seaforth. when they lay in edinburgh castle in , and were ordered to embark for jersey, they with a number of other men in the regiment, for different reasons, but especially an apprehension that they were to be sold to the east-india company, though enlisted not to be sent out of great-britain without their own consent, made a determined mutiny, and encamped upon the lofty mountain, _arthur's seat_, where they remained three days and three nights; bidding defiance to all the force in scotland. at last they came down, and embarked peaceably, having obtained formal articles of capitulation, signed by sir adolphus oughton, commander in chief, general skene, deputy commander, the duke of buccleugh, and the earl of dunmore, which quieted them. since the secession of the commons of rome to the _mons sacer_, a more spirited exertion has not been made. i gave great attention to it from first to last, and have drawn up a particular account of it. those brave fellows have since served their country effectually at jersey, and also in the east-indies, to which, after being better informed, they voluntarily agreed to go. boswell. the line which boswell quotes is from _the chevalier's muster roll_:-- 'the laird of m'intosh is coming, m'crabie & m'donald's coming, m'kenzie & m'pherson's coming, and the wild m'craw's coming. little wat ye wha's coming, donald gun and a's coming.' hogg's _jacobite relics_, i. . horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) writing on may , , tells how on may 'the french had attempted to land [on jersey], but lord seaforth's new-raised regiment of highlanders, assisted by some militia and some artillery, made a brave stand and repelled the intruders.' [ ] 'one of the men advised her, with the cunning that clowns never can be without, to ask more; but she said that a shilling was enough. we gave her half a crown, and she offered part of it again.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] of this part of the journey johnson wrote:--'we had very little entertainment as we travelled either for the eye or ear. there are, i fancy, no singing birds in the highlands.' _piozzi letters_, i. . it is odd that he should have looked for singing birds on the first of september. [ ] act iii. sc. . [ ] it is amusing to observe the different images which this being presented to dr. johnson and me. the doctor, in his _journey_, compares him to a cyclops. boswell. 'out of one of the beds on which we were to repose, started up at our entrance, a man black as a cyclops from the forge.' _works_, ix. . johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'when we were taken up stairs, a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed where one of us was to lie. boswell blustered, but nothing could be got'. _piozzi letters_, i, . macaulay (_essays_, ed. , i. ) says: 'it is clear that johnson himself did not think in the dialect in which he wrote. the expressions which came first to his tongue were simple, energetic, and picturesque. when he wrote for publication, he did his sentences out of english into johnsonese. his letters from the hebrides to mrs. thrale are the original of that work of which the _journey to the hebrides_ is the translation; and it is amusing to compare the two versions.' macaulay thereupon quotes these two passages. see _ante_, under aug. , . [ ] 'we had a lemon and a piece of bread, which supplied me with my supper.'_piozzi letters_, i, . goldsmith, who in his student days had been in scotland, thus writes of a scotch inn:--'vile entertainment is served up, complained of, and sent down; up comes worse, and that also is changed, and every change makes our wretched cheer more unsavoury.' _present state of polite learning_, ch. . [ ] general wolfe, in his letter from head-quarters on sept. , , eleven days before his death wrote:--'in this situation there is such a choice of difficulties that i own myself at a loss how to determine.' _ann. reg._ , p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] boswell, in a note that he added to the second edition (see _post_, end of the _journal_), says that he has omitted 'a few observations the publication of which might perhaps be considered as passing the bounds of a strict decorum,' in the first edition (p. ) the next three paragraphs were as follows:--'instead of finding the head of the macdonalds surrounded with his clan, and a festive entertainment, we had a small company, and cannot boast of our cheer. the particulars are minuted in my journal, but i shall not trouble the publick with them. i shall mention but one characteristick circumstance. my shrewd and hearty friend sir thomas (wentworth) blacket, lady macdonald's uncle, who had preceded us in a visit to this chief, upon being asked by him if the punch-bowl then upon the table was not a very handsome one, replied, "yes--if it were full." 'sir alexander macdonald having been an eton scholar, dr. johnson had formed an opinion of him which was much diminished when he beheld him in the isle of sky, where we heard heavy complaints of rents racked, and the people driven to emigration. dr. johnson said, "it grieves me to see the chief of a great clan appear to such disadvantage. this gentleman has talents, nay some learning; but he is totally unfit for this situation. sir, the highland chiefs should not be allowed to go farther south than aberdeen. a strong-minded man, like his brother sir james, may be improved by an english education; but in general they will be tamed into insignificance." 'i meditated an escape from this house the very next day; but dr. johnson resolved that we should weather it out till monday.' johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'we saw the isle of skie before us, darkening the horizon with its rocky coast. a boat was procured, and we launched into one of the straits of the atlantick ocean. we had a passage of about twelve miles to the point where ---- ---- resided, having come from his seat in the middle of the island to a small house on the shore, as we believe, that he might with less reproach entertain us meanly. if he aspired to meanness, his retrograde ambition was completely gratified... boswell was very angry, and reproached him with his improper parsimony.' _piozzi letters_, i. . a little later he wrote:--'i have done thinking of ---- whom we now call sir sawney; he has disgusted all mankind by injudicious parsimony, and given occasion to so many stories, that ---- has some thoughts of collecting them, and making a novel of his life.' _ib_. p. . the last of rowlandson's _caricatures_ of boswell's _journal_ is entitled _revising for the second edition_. macdonald is represented as seizing boswell by the throat and pointing with his stick to the _journal_ that lies open at pages , . on the ground lie pages , , torn out. boswell, in an agony of fear, is begging for mercy. [ ] 'here, in badenoch, here in lochaber anon, in lochiel, in knoydart, moydart, morrer, ardgower, and ardnamurchan, here i see him and here: i see him; anon i lose him.' clough's _bothie_, p. [ ] see his latin verses addressed to dr. johnson, in this appendix. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii , note . [ ] 'such is the laxity of highland conversation, that the inquirer is kept in continual suspense, and by a kind of intellectual retrogradation knows less as he hears more.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'they are not much accustomed to be interrogated by others, and seem never to have thought upon interrogating themselves; so that if they do not know what they tell to be true, they likewise do not distinctly perceive it to be false. mr. boswell was very diligent in his inquiries; and the result of his investigations was, that the answer to the second question was commonly such as nullified the answer to the first.' _ib._, p. . [ ] mr. carruthers, in his edition of boswell's _hebrides_, says (p. xiv):--'the new management and high rents took the tacksmen, or larger tenants, by surprise. they were indignant at the treatment they received, and selling off their stock they emigrated to america. in the twenty years from to , sixteen vessels with emigrants sailed from the western shores of inverness-shire and ross-shire, containing about persons, who carried with them in specie at least £ , . a desperate effort was made by the tacksmen on the estate of lord macdonald. they bound themselves by a solemn oath not to offer for any farm that might become vacant. the combination failed of its object, but it appeared so formidable in the eyes of the "english-bred chieftain," that he retreated precipitately from skye and never afterwards returned.' [ ] dr. johnson seems to have forgotten that a highlander going armed at this period incurred the penalty of serving as a common soldier for the first, and of transportation beyond sea for a second offence. and as for 'calling out his clan,' twelve highlanders and a bagpipe made a rebellion. walter scott. [ ] mackintosh (_life_ ii. ) says that in mme. du deffand's _correspondence_ there is 'an extraordinary confirmation of the talents and accomplishments of our highland phoenix, sir james macdonald. a highland chieftain, admired by voltaire, could have been no ordinary man.' [ ] this extraordinary young man, whom i had the pleasure of knowing intimately, having been deeply regretted by his country, the most minute particulars concerning him must be interesting to many. i shall therefore insert his two last letters to his mother, lady margaret macdonald, which her ladyship has been pleased to communicate to me. 'rome, july th, . 'my dear mother, 'yesterday's post brought me your answer to the first letter in which i acquainted you of my illness. your tenderness and concern upon that account are the same i have always experienced, and to which i have often owed my life. indeed it never was in so great danger as it has been lately; and though it would have been a very great comfort to me to have had you near me, yet perhaps i ought to rejoice, on your account, that you had not the pain of such a spectacle. i have been now a week in rome, and wish i could continue to give you the same good accounts of my recovery as i did in my last; but i must own that, for three days past, i have been in a very weak and miserable state, which however seems to give no uneasiness to my physician. my stomach has been greatly out of order, without any visible cause; and the palpitation does not decrease. i am told that my stomach will soon recover its tone, and that the palpitation must cease in time. so i am willing to believe; and with this hope support the little remains of spirits which i can be supposed to have, on the forty-seventh day of such an illness. do not imagine i have relapsed;--i only recover slower than i expected. if my letter is shorter than usual, the cause of it is a dose of physick, which has weakened me so much to-day, that i am not able to write a long letter. i will make up for it next post, and remain always 'your most sincerely affectionate son, 'j. macdonald.' he grew gradually worse; and on the night before his death he wrote as follows from frescati:--'my dear mother, 'though i did not mean to deceive you in my last letter from rome, yet certainly you would have very little reason to conclude of the very great and constant danger i have gone through ever since that time. my life, which is still almost entirely desperate, did not at that time appear to me so, otherwise i should have represented, in its true colours, a fact which acquires very little horror by that means, and comes with redoubled force by deception. there is no circumstance of danger and pain of which i have not had the experience, for a continued series of above a fortnight; during which time i have settled my affairs, after my death, with as much distinctness as the hurry and the nature of the thing could admit of. in case of the worst, the abbé grant will be my executor in this part of the world, and mr. mackenzie in scotland, where my object has been to make you and my younger brother as independent of the eldest as possible.' boswell. horace walpole (letters, vii. ), in , thus mentions this 'younger brother':--'macdonald abused lord north in very gross, yet too applicable, terms; and next day pleaded he had been drunk, recanted, and was all admiration and esteem for his lordship's talents and virtues.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, oct. . [ ] cheyne's english malady, ed. , p. . [ ] 'weary, stale, flat and unprofitable.' _hamlet_, act i. sc. . see _ante_, iii. , where boswell is reproached by johnson with 'bringing in gabble,' when he makes this quotation. [ ] various readings. line . in the manuscript, dr. johnson, instead of _rupibus obsita_, had written _imbribus uvida_, and _uvida nubibus_, but struck them both out. lines and . instead of these two lines, he had written, but afterwards struck out, the following:-- parare posse, utcunque jactet grandiloquus nimis alta zeno. boswell. in johnson's _works_, i. , these lines are given with some variations, which perhaps are in part due to mr. langton, who, we are told (_ante_, dec. ), edited some, if not indeed all, of johnson's latin poems. [ ] cowper wrote to s. rose on may , :--'browne was an entertaining companion when he had drunk his bottle, but not before; this proved a snare to him, and he would sometimes drink too much.' southey's _cowper_, vi. . his _de animi immortalitate_ was published in . he died in , aged fifty-four. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell, in one of his _hypochondriacks_ (_ante_, iv. ) says:--'i do fairly acknowledge that i love drinking; that i have a constitutional inclination to indulge in fermented liquors, and that if it were not for the restraints of reason and religion, i am afraid i should be as constant a votary of bacchus as any man.... drinking is in reality an occupation which employs a considerable portion of the time of many people; and to conduct it in the most rational and agreeable manner is one of the great arts of living. were we so framed that it were possible by perpetual supplies of wine to keep ourselves for ever gay and happy, there could be no doubt that drinking would be the _summum bonum_, the chief good, to find out which philosophers have been so variously busied. but we know from humiliating experience that men cannot be kept long in a state of elevated drunkenness.' [ ] that my readers may have my narrative in the style of the country through which i am travelling, it is proper to inform them, that the chief of a clan is denominated by his _surname_ alone, as m'leod, m'kinnon, m'lntosh. to prefix _mr._ to it would be a degradation from _the_ m'leod, &c. my old friend, the laird of m'farlane, the great antiquary, took it highly amiss, when general wade called him mr. m'farlane. dr. johnson said, he could not bring himself to use this mode of address; it seemed to him to be too familiar, as it is the way in which, in all other places, intimates or inferiors are addressed. when the chiefs have _titles_ they are denominated by them, as _sir james grant_, _sir allan m'lean_. the other highland gentlemen, of landed property, are denominated by their _estates_, as _rasay_, _boisdale_; and the wives of all of them have the title of _ladies_. the _tacksmen_, or principal tenants, are named by their farms, as _kingsburgh_, _corrichatachin_; and their wives are called the _mistress_ of kingsburgh, the _mistress_ of corrichatachin.--having given this explanation, i am at liberty to use that mode of speech which generally prevails in the highlands and the hebrides. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] boswell implies that sir a. macdonald's table had not been furnished plentifully. johnson wrote:--'at night we came to a tenant's house of the first rank of tenants, where we were entertained better than at the landlord's.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'little did i once think,' he wrote to her the same day, 'of seeing this region of obscurity, and little did you once expect a salutation from this verge of european life. i have now the pleasure of going where nobody goes, and seeing what nobody sees.' _piozzi letters_, i. . about fourteen years since, i landed in sky, with a party of friends, and had the curiosity to ask what was the first idea on every one's mind at landing. all answered separately that it was this ode. walter scott. [ ] see appendix b. [ ] 'i never was in any house of the islands, where i did not find books in more languages than one, if i staid long enough to want them, except one from which the family was removed.' johnson's _works_, ix. . he is speaking of 'the higher rank of the hebridians,' for on p. he says:--'the greater part of the islanders make no use of books.' [ ] there was a mrs. brooks, an actress, the daughter of a scotchman named watson, who had forfeited his property by 'going out in the ' .' but according to _the thespian dictionary_ her first appearance on the stage was in . [ ] boswell mentions, _post_, oct. , 'the famous captain of clanranald, who fell at sherrif-muir.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] by john macpherson, d.d. see _post_, sept. . [ ] sir walter scott, when in sky in , wrote:--'we learn that most of the highland superstitions, even that of the second sight, are still in force.' lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iv. . see _.ante_, ii. , . [ ] of him johnson wrote:--'one of the ministers honestly told me that he came to sky with a resolution not to believe it.' _works_, ix. . [ ] 'by the term _second sight_ seems to be meant a mode of seeing superadded to that which nature generally bestows. in the erse it is called _taisch_; which signifies likewise a spectre or a vision.' _johnson's works_, ix. . [ ] gray's _ode on a distant prospect of eton college_, . . [ ] a tonnage bounty of thirty shillings a ton was at this time given to the owners of busses or decked vessels for the encouragement of the white herring fishery. adam smith (_wealth of nations_, iv. ) shews how mischievous was its effect. [ ] the highland expression for laird of rasay. boswell. [ ] 'in sky i first observed the use of brogues, a kind of artless shoes, stitched with thongs so loosely, that, though they defend the foot from stones, they do not exclude water.' johnson's _works_, ix . [ ] to evade the law against the tartan dress, the highlanders used to dye their variegated plaids and kilts into blue, green, or any single colour. walter scott. [ ] see _post_, oct. . [ ] the highlanders were all well inclined to the episcopalian form, _proviso_ that the right _king_ was prayed for. i suppose malcolm meant to say, 'i will come to your church because you are honest folk,' viz. _jacobites_. walter scott. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] perhaps he was thinking of johnson's letter of june , (_ante_, ii. ), where he says:--'i hope the time will come when we may try our powers both with cliffs and water.' [ ] 'the wind blew enough to give the boat a kind of dancing agitation.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'the water was calm and the rowers were vigorous; so that our passage was quick and pleasant.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'caught in the wild aegean seas, the sailor bends to heaven for ease.' francis. horace, , _odes_, xvi. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. dec. , , note. [ ] such spells are still believed in. a lady of property in mull, a friend of mine, had a few years since much difficulty in rescuing from the superstitious fury of the people, an old woman, who used a _charm_ to injure her neighbour's cattle. it is now in my possession, and consists of feathers, parings of nails, hair, and such like trash, wrapt in a lump of clay. walter scott. [ ] sir walter scott, writing in skye in , says:--'macleod and mr. suter have both heard a tacksman of macleod's recite the celebrated address to the sun; and another person repeat the description of cuchullin's car. but all agree as to the gross infidelity of macpherson as a translator and editor.' lockhart's _scott_, iv. . [ ] see _post_, nov. . [ ] 'the women reaped the corn, and the men bound up the sheaves. the strokes of the sickle were timed by the modulation of the harvest-song, in which all their voices were united.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'the money which he raises annually by rent from all his dominions, which contain at least , acres, is not believed to exceed £ ; but as he keeps a large farm in his own hands, he sells every year great numbers of cattle ... the wine circulates vigorously, and the tea, chocolate, and coffee, however they are got, are always at hand.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'of wine and punch they are very liberal, for they get them cheap; but as there is no custom-house on the island, they can hardly be considered as smugglers.' _ib_. p. . 'their trade is unconstrained; they pay no customs, for there is no officer to demand them; whatever, therefore, is made dear only by impost is obtained here at an easy rate.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'no man is so abstemious as to refuse the morning dram, which they call a _skalk_.' johnson's _works_, ix. p. . [ ] alexander macleod, of muiravenside, advocate, became extremely obnoxious to government by his zealous personal efforts to engage his chief macleod, and macdonald of sky, in the chevalier's attempts of . had he succeeded, it would have added one third at least to the jacobite army. boswell has oddly described _m'cruslick_, the being whose name was conferred upon this gentleman, as something between proteus and don quixote. it is the name of a species of satyr, or _esprit follet_, a sort of mountain puck or hobgoblin, seen among the wilds and mountains, as the old highlanders believed, sometimes mirthful, sometimes mischievous. alexander macleod's precarious mode of life and variable spirits occasioned the _soubriquet_. walter scott. [ ] johnson also complained of the cheese. 'in the islands they do what i found it not very easy to endure. they pollute the tea-table by plates piled with large slices of cheshire cheese, which mingles its less grateful odours with the fragrance of the tea.' _works_, ix. . [ ] 'the estate has not, during four hundred years, gained or lost a single acre.' _ib_. p. . [ ] lord stowell told me, that on the road from newcastle to berwick, dr. johnson and he passed a cottage, at the entrance of which were set up two of those great bones of the whale, which are not unfrequently seen in maritime districts. johnson expressed great horror at the sight of these bones; and called the people, who could use such relics of mortality as an ornament, mere savages. croker. [ ] in like manner boswell wrote:--'it is divinely cheering to me to think that there is a cathedral so near auchinleck [as carlisle].' _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'it is not only in rasay that the chapel is unroofed and useless; through the few islands which we visited we neither saw nor heard of any house of prayer, except in sky, that was not in ruins. the malignant influence of calvinism has blasted ceremony and decency together... it has been for many years popular to talk of the lazy devotion of the romish clergy; over the sleepy laziness of men that erected churches we may indulge our superiority with a new triumph, by comparing it with the fervid activity of those who suffer them to fall.' johnson's _works_, ix. . he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'by the active zeal of protestant devotion almost all the chapels have sunk into ruin.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'not many years ago,' writes johnson, 'the late laird led out one hundred men upon a military expedition.' _works_, ix. . what the expedition was he is careful not to state. [ ] 'i considered this rugged ascent as the consequence of a form of life inured to hardships, and therefore not studious of nice accommodations. but i know not whether for many ages it was not considered as a part of military policy to keep the country not easily accessible. the rocks are natural fortifications.' johnson's _works_, ix. p. . [ ] see _post_ sept. . [ ] in sky a price was set 'upon the heads of foxes, which, as the number was diminished, has been gradually raised from three shillings and sixpence to a guinea, a sum so great in this part of the world, that, in a short time, sky may be as free from foxes as england from wolves. the fund for these rewards is a tax of sixpence in the pound, imposed by the farmers on themselves, and said to be paid with great willingness.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] boswell means that the eastern coast of sky is westward of rasay. croker. [ ] 'the prince was hidden in his distress two nights in rasay, and the king's troops burnt the whole country, and killed some of the cattle. you may guess at the opinions that prevail in this country; they are, however, content with fighting for their king; they do not drink for him. we had no foolish healths', _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , where he said:--'you have, perhaps, no man who knows as much greek and latin as bentley.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] steele had had the duke of marlborough's papers, and 'in some of his exigencies put them in pawn. they then remained with the old duchess, who, in her will, assigned the task to glover [the author of _leonidas_] and mallet, with a reward of a thousand pounds, and a prohibition to insert any verses. glover rejected, i suppose with disdain, the legacy, and devolved the whole work upon mallet; who had from the late duke of marlborough a pension to promote his industry, and who talked of the discoveries which he had made; but left not, when he died, any historical labours behind him.' johnson's _works_, viii. . the duchess died in and mallet in . for more than twenty years he thus imposed more or less successfully on the world. about the year he played on garrick's vanity. 'mallet, in a familiar conversation with garrick, discoursing of the diligence which he was then exerting upon the _life of marlborough_, let him know, that in the series of great men quickly to be exhibited, he should _find a niche_ for the hero of the theatre. garrick professed to wonder by what artifice he could be introduced; but mallet let him know, that by a dexterous anticipation he should fix him in a conspicuous place. "mr. mallet," says garrick in his gratitude of exultation, "have you left off to write for the stage?" mallet then confessed that he had a drama in his hands. garrick promised to act it; and _alfred_ was produced.' _ib_. p. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] according to dr. warton (_essay on pope_, ii. ) he received £ . 'old marlborough,' wrote horace walpole in march, (letters, i. ), 'has at last published her _memoirs_; they are digested by one hooke, who wrote a roman history; but from her materials, which are so womanish that i am sure the man might sooner have made a gown and petticoat with them.' [ ] see _ante_, i. [ ] 'hooke,' says dr. warton (_essay on pope_, ii. ), 'was a mystic and a quietist, and a warm disciple of fénelon. it was he who brought a catholic priest to take pope's confession on his death-bed.' [ ] see cumberland's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] mr. croker says that 'though he sold a great tract of land in harris, he left at his death in the original debt of £ , [boswell says £ , ] increased to £ , .' when johnson visited macleod at dunvegan, he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'here, though poor macleod had been left by his grandfather overwhelmed with debts, we had another exhibition of feudal hospitality. there were two stags in the house, and venison came to the table every day in its various forms. macleod, besides his estate in sky, larger i suppose than some english counties, is proprietor of nine inhabited isles; and of his isles uninhabited i doubt if he very exactly knows the number, i told him that he was a mighty monarch. such dominions fill an englishman with envious wonder; but when he surveys the naked mountain, and treads the quaking moor; and wanders over the wild regions of gloomy barrenness, his wonder may continue, but his envy ceases. the unprofitableness of these vast domains can be conceived only by the means of positive instances. the heir of col, an island not far distant, has lately told me how wealthy he should be if he could let rum, another of his islands, for twopence halfpenny an acre; and macleod has an estate which the surveyor reports to contain , acres, rented at £ a year.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] they were abolished by an act passed in , being 'reckoned among the principal sources of the rebellions. they certainly kept the common people in subjection to their chiefs. by this act they were legally emancipated from slavery; but as the tenants enjoyed no leases, and were at all times liable to be ejected from their farms, they still depended on the pleasure of their lords, notwithstanding this interposition of the legislature, which granted a valuable consideration in money to every nobleman and petty baron, who was thus deprived of one part of his inheritance.' smollett's _england_, iii. . see _ante_, p. , note , and _post_, oct. . [ ] 'i doubt not but that since the regular judges have made their circuits through the whole country, right has been everywhere more wisely and more equally distributed; the complaint is, that litigation is grown troublesome, and that the magistrates are too few and therefore often too remote for general convenience... in all greater questions there is now happily an end to all fear or hope from malice or from favour. the roads are secure in those places through which forty years ago no traveller could pass without a convoy...no scheme of policy has in any country yet brought the rich and poor on equal terms to courts of judicature. perhaps experience improving on experience may in time effect it.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] he described rasay as 'the seat of plenty, civility, and cheerfulness.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'we heard the women singing as they _waulked_ the cloth, by rubbing it with their hands and feet, and screaming all the while in a sort of chorus. at a distance the sound was wild and sweet enough, but rather discordant when you approached too near the performers.' lockhart's _scott_, iv. . [ ] she had been some time at edinburgh, to which she again went, and was married to my worthy neighbour, colonel mure campbell, now earl of loudoun, but she died soon afterwards, leaving one daughter. boswell. 'she is a celebrated beauty; has been admired at edinburgh; dresses her head very high; and has manners so lady-like that i wish her head-dress was lower.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'yet hope not life from _grief_ or danger free, _nor_ think the doom of man reversed for thee.' _the vanity of human wishes_. [ ] 'rasay accompanied us in his six-oared boat, which he said was his coach and six. it is indeed the vehicle in which the ladies take the air and pay their visits, but they have taken very little care for accommodations. there is no way in or out of the boat for a woman but by being carried; and in the boat thus dignified with a pompous name there is no seat but an occasional bundle of straw.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in describing the distance of one family from another, johnson writes:--'visits last several days, and are commonly paid by water; yet i never saw a boat furnished with benches.' _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'they which forewent us did leave a roome for us, and should wee grieve to doe the same to these which should come after us? who beeing admitted to see the exquisite rarities of some antiquaries cabinet is grieved, all viewed, to have the courtaine drawen, and give place to new pilgrimes?' _a cypresse grove_, by william drummond of hawthorne-denne, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] 'while hoary nestor, by experience wise, to reconcile the angry monarch tries.' francis. horace, i _epis_. ii. ii. [ ] _see ante_, p. . [ ] lord elibank died aug. , , aged . _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] a term in scotland for a special messenger, such as was formerly sent with dispatches by the lords of the council. [ ] yet he said of him:--'there is nothing _conclusive_ in his talk.' _ante_ iii. . [ ] 'i believe every man has found in physicians great liberality and dignity of sentiment, very prompt effusion of beneficence, and willingness to exert a lucrative art where there is no hope of lucre.' johnson's _works_, vii. . see _ante_, iv. . [ ] johnson says (_ib_. ix. ) that when the military road was made through glencroe, 'stones were placed to mark the distances, which the inhabitants have taken away, resolved, they said, "to have no new miles."' [ ] 'the lawland lads think they are fine, but o they're vain and idly gawdy; how much unlike that graceful mien and manly look of my highland laddie.' from '_the highland laddie_, written long since by allan ramsay, and now sung at ranelagh and all the other gardens; often fondly encored, and sometimes ridiculously hissed.' _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] 'she is of a pleasing person and elegant behaviour. she told me that she thought herself honoured by my visit; and i am sure that whatever regard she bestowed on me was liberally repaid.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in his _journey_ (_works_, ix. ) johnson speaks of flora macdonald, as 'a name that will be mentioned in history, and if courage and fidelity be virtues, mentioned with honour.' [ ] this word, which meant much the same as, _fop_ or _dandy_, is found in bk. x. ch. of fielding's _amelia_ (published in ):--'a large assembly of young fellows, whom they call bucks.' less than forty years ago, in the neighbourhood of london, it was, i remember, still commonly applied by the village lads to the boys of a boarding-school. [ ] this word was at this time often used in a loose sense, though johnson could not have so used it. thus horace walpole, writing on may , (_letters_, iii. ), tells a story of the little prince frederick. 't'other day as he was with the prince of wales, kitty fisher passed by, and the child named her; the prince, to try him, asked who that was? "why, a miss." "a miss," said the prince of wales, "why are not all girls misses?" "oh! but a particular sort of miss--a miss that sells oranges."' mr. cunningham in a note on this says:--'orange-girls at theatres were invariably courtesans.' [ ] _governor_ was the term commonly given to a tutor, especially a travelling tutor. thus peregrine pickle was sent first to winchester and afterwards abroad 'under the immediate care and inspection of a governor.' _peregrine pickle_, ch. xv. [ ] he and his wife returned before the end of the war of independence. on the way back she showed great spirit when their ship was attacked by a french man of war. chambers's _rebellion in scotland_, ii. . [ ] i do not call him _the prince of wales_, or _the prince_, because i am quite satisfied that the right which the _house of stuart_ had to the throne is extinguished. i do not call him, the _pretender_, because it appears to me as an insult to one who is still alive, and, i suppose, thinks very differently. it may be a parliamentary expression; but it is not a gentlemanly expression. i _know_, and i exult in having it in my power to tell, that the only person in the world who is intitled to be offended at this delicacy, thinks and feels as i do; and has liberality of mind and generosity of sentiment enough to approve of my tenderness for what even _has been_ blood royal. that he is a _prince_ by _courtesy_, cannot be denied; because his mother was the daughter of sobiesky, king of poland. i shall, therefore, _on that account alone_, distinguish him by the name of _prince charles edward_. boswell. to have called him the _pretender_ in the presence of flora macdonald would have been hazardous. in her old age, 'such is said to have been the virulence of the jacobite spirit in her composition, that she would have struck any one with her fist who presumed, in her hearing, to call charles _the pretender_.' chambers's _rebellion in scotland_, ii. . [ ] this, perhaps, was said in allusion to some lines ascribed to _pope_, on his lying, at john duke of argyle's, at adderbury, in the same bed in which wilmot, earl of rochester, had slept: 'with no poetick ardour fir'd, i press [press'd] the bed where wilmot lay; that here he liv'd [lov'd], or here expir'd, begets no numbers, grave or gay.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , . [ ] see _ante_, iv. and . [ ] 'this was written while mr. wilkes was sheriff of london, and when it was to be feared he would rattle his chain a year longer as lord mayor.' note to campbell's _british poets_, p. . by 'here' the poet means at _tyburn_. [ ] with virtue weigh'd, what worthless trash is gold! boswell. [ ] since the first edition of this book, an ingenious friend has observed to me, that dr. johnson had probably been thinking on the reward which was offered by government for the apprehension of the grandson of king james ii, and that he meant by these words to express his admiration of the highlanders, whose fidelity and attachment had resisted the golden temptation that had been held out to them. boswell. [ ] on the subject of lady margaret macdonald, it is impossible to omit an anecdote which does much honour to frederick, prince of wales. by some chance lady margaret had been presented to the princess, who, when she learnt what share she had taken in the chevalier's escape, hastened to excuse herself to the prince, and exlain to him that she was not aware that lady margaret was the person who had harboured the fugitive. the prince's answer was noble: 'and would _you_ not have done the same, madam, had he come to you, as to her, in distress and danger? i hope--i am sure you would!' walter scott. [ ] this old scottish _member of parliament_, i am informed, is still living ( ). boswell. [ ] i cannot find that this account was ever published. mr. lumisden is mentioned _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] this word is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) describes him in as 'a good-looking man of about five feet ten inches; his hair was dark red, and his eyes black. his features were regular, his visage long, much sunburnt and freckled, and his countenance thoughtful and melancholy.' when the pretender was in london in , 'he came one evening,' writes dr. w. king (_anec_. p. ) 'to my lodgings, and drank tea with me; my servant, after he was gone, said to me, that he thought my new visitor very like prince charles. "why," said i, "have you ever seen prince charles?" "no, sir," said the fellow, "but this gentleman, whoever he may be, exactly resembles the busts which are sold in red lionstreet, and are said to be the busts of prince charles." the truth is, these busts were taken in plaster of paris from his face. he has an handsome face and good eyes.' [ ] sir walter scott, writing of his childhood, mentions 'the stories told in my hearing of the cruelties after the battle of culloden. one or two of our own distant relations had fallen, and i remember of (sic) detesting the name of cumberland with more than infant hatred.' lockhart's _scott_, i. . 'i was,' writes dr. a. carlyle (_auto_, p. ), 'in the coffee-house with smollett when the news of the battle of culloden arrived, and when london all over was in a perfect uproar of joy.' on coming out into the street, 'smollett,' he continues, 'cautioned me against speaking a word, lest the mob should discover my country, and become insolent, "for john bull," says he; "is as haughty and valiant to-night as he was abject and cowardly on the black wednesday when the highlanders were at derby." i saw not smollett again for some time after, when he shewed me his manuscript of his _tears of scotland_. smollett, though a tory, was not a jacobite, but he had the feelings of a scotch gentleman on the reported cruelties that were said to be exercised after the battle of culloden.' see _ante_, ii. , for the madman 'beating his straw, supposing it was the duke of cumberland, whom he was punishing for his cruelties in scotland in .' [ ] 'he was obliged to trust his life to the fidelity of above fifty individuals, and many of these were in the lowest paths of fortune. they knew that a price of £ , was set upon his head, and that by betraying him they should enjoy wealth and affluence.' smollett's _hist. of england_, iii. . [ ] 'que les hommes privés, qui se plaignent de leurs petites infortunes, jettent les yeux sur ce prince et sur ses ancêtres.' _siècle de louis xv_, ch. . [ ] 'i never heard him express any noble or benevolent sentiments, or discover any sorrow or compassion for the misfortunes of so many worthy men who had suffered in his cause. but the most odious part of his character is his love of money, a vice which i do not remember to have been imputed by our historians to any of his ancestors, and is the certain index of a base and little mind. i have known this gentleman, with louis d'ors in his strong box, pretend he was in great distress, and borrow money from a lady in paris, who was not in affluent circumstances.' dr. w. king's _anec._ p. . 'lord marischal,' writes hume, 'had a very bad opinion of this unfortunate prince; and thought there was no vice so mean or atrocious of which he was not capable; of which he gave me several instances.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] _siècle de louis xiv_, ch. . the accentuation of this passage, which was very incorrect as quoted by boswell, i have corrected. [ ] by banishment he meant, i conjecture, transportation as a convict-slave to the american plantations. [ ] wesley in his _journal_--the reference i have mislaid--seemed from this consideration almost to regret a reprieve that came to a penitent convict. [ ] hume describes how in (? ) the pretender, on his secret visit to london, 'came to the house of a lady (who i imagined to be lady primrose) without giving her any preparatory information; and entered the room where she had a pretty large company with her, and was herself playing at cards. he was announced by the servant under another name. she thought the cards would have dropped from her hands on seeing him. but she had presence enough of mind to call him by the name he assumed.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . mr. croker (croker's _boswell_, p. ) prints an autograph letter from flora macdonald which shows that lady primrose in had lodged £ in a friend's hands for her behoof, and that she had in view to add more. [ ] it seems that the pretender was only once in london, and that it was in . _ante_, i. , note . i suspect that is boswell's mistake or his printer's. from what johnson goes on to say it is clear that george ii. was in germany at the time of the prince's secret visit. he was there the greater part of , but not in or . in , moreover, 'the great army of the king of prussia overawed hanover.' smollett's _england_, iii. . this explains what johnson says about the king of prussia stopping the army in germany. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , . [ ] commentaries on the laws of england, book . chap. . boswell. [ ] b. vi. chap. . since i have quoted mr. archdeacon paley upon one subject, i cannot but transcribe, from his excellent work, a distinguished passage in support of the christian revelation.--after shewing, in decent but strong terms, the unfairness of the _indirect_ attempts of modern infidels to unsettle and perplex religious principles, and particularly the irony, banter, and sneer, of one whom he politely calls 'an eloquent historian,' the archdeacon thus expresses himself:-- 'seriousness is not constraint of thought; nor levity, freedom. every mind which wishes the advancement of truth and knowledge, in the most important of all human researches, must abhor this licentiousness, as violating no less the laws of reasoning than the rights of decency. there is but one description of men to whose principles it ought to be tolerable. i mean that class of reasoners who can see _little_ in christianity even supposing it to be true. to such adversaries we address this reflection.--had _jesus christ_ delivered no other declaration than the following, "the hour is coming in the which all that are in the graves shall hear his voice, and shall come forth,--they that have done well [good] unto the resurrection of life, and they that have done evil unto the resurrection of damnation," [_st. john_ v. ] he had pronounced a message of inestimable importance, and well worthy of that splendid apparatus of prophecy and miracles with which his mission was introduced and attested:--a message in which the wisest of mankind would rejoice to find an answer to their doubts, and rest to their inquiries. it is idle to say that a future state had been discovered already.--it had been discovered as the copernican system was;--it was one guess amongst many. he alone discovers who _proves_, and no man can prove this point but the teacher who testifies by miracles that his doctrine comes from god.'--book v. chap. . if infidelity be disingenuously dispersed in every shape that is likely to allure, surprise, or beguile the imagination,--in a fable, a tale, a novel, a poem,--in books of travels, of philosophy, of natural history,--as mr. paley has well observed,--i hope it is fair in me thus to meet such poison with an unexpected antidote, which i cannot doubt will be found powerful. boswell. the 'eloquent historian' was gibbon. see paley's _principles_, ed. , p. . [ ] in _the life of johnson (ante_, iii. ), boswell quotes these words, without shewing that they are his own; but italicises not fervour, but loyalty. [ ] 'whose service is perfect freedom.' _book of common prayer._ [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] ovid, _ars amatoria_, iii. . [ ] 'this facile temper of the beauteous sex great agamemnon, brave pelides proved.' these two lines follow the four which boswell quotes. _agis_, act iv. [ ] _agis_, a tragedy, by john home. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] a misprint, i suppose, for _designing_. [ ] 'next in dignity to the laird is the tacksman; a large taker or leaseholder of land, of which he keeps part as a domain in his own hand, and lets part to under-tenants. the tacksman is necessarily a man capable of securing to the laird the whole rent, and is commonly a collateral relation.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] a _lettre de cachet_. [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] 'it is related that at dunvegan lady macleod, having poured out for dr. johnson sixteen cups of tea, asked him if a small basin would not save him trouble, and be more agreeable. "i wonder, madam," answered he roughly, "why all the ladies ask me such questions. it is to save yourselves trouble, madam, and not me." the lady was silent and resumed her task.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] 'in the garden-or rather the orchard which was formerly the garden-is a pretty cascade, divided into two branches, and called rorie more's nurse, because he loved to be lulled to sleep by the sound of it.' lockhart's _scott_, iv. . [ ] it has been said that she expressed considerable dissatisfaction at dr. johnson's rude behaviour at dunvegan. her grandson, the present macleod, assures me that it was not so: 'they were all,' he says emphatically, '_delighted_ with him.' croker. mr. croker refers, i think, to a communication from sir walter scott, published in the _croker corres_. ii. . scott writes:--'when wind-bound at dunvegan, johnson's temper became most execrable, and beyond all endurance, save that of his guide. the highlanders, who are very courteous in their way, held him in great contempt for his want of breeding, but had an idea at the same time there was something respectable about him, they could not tell what, and long spoke of him as the sassenach _mohr_, or large saxon.' [ ] 'i long to be again in civilized life.' _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson refers, i think, to a passage in _l'esprit des lois_, book xvi. chap. , where montesquieu says:--'j'avoue que si ce que les relations nous disent était vrai, qu'à bantam il y a dix femmes pour un homme, ce serait un cas bien particulier de la polygamie. dans tout ceci je ne justifie pas les usages, mais j'en rends les raisons.' [ ] what my friend treated as so wild a supposition, has actually happened in the western islands of scotland, if we may believe martin, who tells it of the islands of col and tyr-yi, and says that it is proved by the parish registers. boswell. 'the isle of coll produces more boys than girls, and the isle of tire-iy more girls than boys; as if nature intended both these isles for mutual alliances, without being at the trouble of going to the adjacent isles or continent to be matched. the parish-book in which the number of the baptised is to be seen, confirms this observation.' martin's _western islands,_ p. . [ ] _a dissertation on the gout_, by w. cadogan, m.d., . it went through nine editions in its first year. [ ] this was a general reflection against dr. cadogan, when his very popular book was first published. it was said, that whatever precepts he might give to others, he himself indulged freely in the bottle. but i have since had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with him, and, if his own testimony may be believed, (and i have never heard it impeached,) his course of life has been conformable to his doctrine. boswell. [ ] 'april , . i purpose to rise at eight, because, though i shall not yet rise early, it will be much earlier than i now rise, for i often lie till two.' _pr. and med._ p. . 'sept. , . my nocturnal complaints grow less troublesome towards morning; and i am tempted to repair the deficiencies of the night. i think, however, to try to rise every day by eight, and to combat indolence as i shall obtain strength.' _ib._ p. . 'april , . as my life has from my earliest years been wasted in a morning bed, my purpose is from easter day to rise early, not later than eight.' _ib._ p. . [ ] see _post_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. under dec. , . [ ] miss mulso (mrs. chapone) wrote in :--'i had the assurance to dispute with mr. johnson on the subject of human malignity, and wondered to hear a man, who by his actions shews so much benevolence, maintain that the human heart is naturally malevolent, and that all the benevolence we see in the few who are good is acquired by reason and religion.' _ life of mrs. chapone_, p. . see _post_, p. . [ ] this act was passed in . [ ] _isaiah_, ii. . [ ] sir walter scott, after mentioning lord orford's (horace walpole) _history of his own time_, continues:--'the memoirs of our scots sir george mackenzie are of the same class--both immersed in little political detail, and the struggling skirmish of party, seem to have lost sight of the great progressive movements of human affairs.' lockhart's _scott_ vii. . [ ] 'illum jura potius ponere quam de jure respondere dixisses; eique appropinquabant clientes tanquam judici potius quam advocato.' mackenzie's _works_, ed. , vol. i. part , p. . [ ] 'opposuit ei providentia nisbetum: qui summâ doctrinâ consummatâque eloquentiâ causas agebat, ut justitiae scalae in aequilibrio essent; nimiâ tamen arte semper utens artem suam suspectam reddebat. quoties ergo conflixerunt, penes gilmorum gloria, penes nisbetum palma fuit; quoniam in hoc plus artis et cultus, in illo naturae et virium.' _ib._ [ ] he often indulged himself in every species of pleasantry and wit. boswell. [ ] but like the hawk, having soared with a lofty flight to a height which the eye could not reach, he was wont to swoop upon his quarry with wonderful rapidity. boswell. these two quotations are part of the same paragraph, and are not even separated by a word. _ib._ p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. ; iii. ; iv. ; and v. . [ ] some years later he said that 'when burke lets himself down to jocularity he is in the kennel.' _ante_, iv. . [ ] cicero and demosthenes, no doubt, were brought in by the passage about nicholson. mackenzie continues:--'hic primus nos a syllogismorum servitute manumisit et aristotelem demostheni potius quam ciceroni forum concedere coegit.' p. . [ ] see _ante_ ii. and iv. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_ ii [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] on sept. , , johnson wrote:--'boswell shrinks from the baltick expedition, which, i think, is the best scheme in our power.' _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'every man wishes to be wise, and they who cannot be wise are almost always cunning ... nor is caution ever so necessary as with associates or opponents of feeble minds.' _the idler_, no. . in a letter to dr. taylor johnson says:--'to help the ignorant commonly requires much patience, for the ignorant are always trying to be cunning.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . churchill, in _the journey_ (_poems_, ed. , ii. ), says:-- ''gainst fools be guarded; 'tis a certain rule, wits are safe things, there's danger in a fool.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'for thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head with all such reading as was never read; for thee explain a thing till all men doubt it, and write about it, goddess, and about it.' _the dunciad_, iv. . [ ] genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures; and the art of the painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of his subject. but it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. i should grieve to see reynolds transfer to heroes and to goddesses, to empty splendour and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in diffusing friendship, in reviving tenderness, in quickening the affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead.' _the idler_, no. . 'southey wrote thirty years later:--'i find daily more and more reason to wonder at the miserable ignorance of english historians, and to grieve with a sort of despondency at seeing how much that has been laid up among the stores of knowledge has been neglected and utterly forgotten.' southey's _life_, ii. . on another occasion he said of robertson:--'to write his introduction to _charles v_, without reading these _laws_ [the _laws_ of alonso the wise], is one of the thousand and one omissions for which he ought to be called rogue, as long as his volumes last. _ib_. p. [ ] 'that eagle's fate and mine are one, which on the shaft that made him die, espy'd a feather of his own, wherewith he wont to soar so high.' _epistle to a lady._ anderson's _poets_, v. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'in england there may be reason for raising the rents (in a certain degree) where the value of lands is increased by accession of commerce, ...but here (contrary to all policy) the great men begin at the wrong end, with squeezing the bag, before they have helped the poor tenant to fill it; by the introduction of manufactures.' pennant's _scotland_, ed. , p. . [ ] boswell refers, not to a passage in _pennant_, but to johnson's admission that in his dispute with monboddo, 'he might have taken the side of the savage, had anybody else taken the side of the shopkeeper.' _ante_, p. . [ ] 'boswell, with some of his troublesome kindness, has informed this family and reminded me that the th of september is my birthday. the return of my birthday, if i remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general care of humanity to escape.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'at dunvegan i had tasted lotus, and was in danger of forgetting that i was ever to depart, till mr. boswell sagely reproached me with my sluggishness and softness.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] johnson wrote of the ministers:--'i saw not one in the islands whom i had reason to think either deficient in learning, or irregular in life; but found several with whom i could not converse without wishing, as my respect increased, that they had not been presbyterians.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'so horses they affirm to be mere engines made by geometry, and were invented first from engines, as indian britons were from penguins.' _hudibras_, part i. canto , line . z. gray, in a note on these lines, quotes selden's note on drayton's _polyolbion_:--'about the year , madoc, brother to david ap owen, prince of wales, made a sea-voyage to florida; and by probability those names of capo de breton in norimberg, and penguin in part of the northern america, for a white rock and a white-headed bird, according to the british, were relicts of this discovery.' [ ] published in edinburgh in . [ ] see ante, ii. . 'johnson used to say that in all family disputes the odds were in favour of the husband from his superior knowledge of life and manners.' johnson's works ( ), xi. . [ ] he wrote to dr. taylor:--' nature has given women so much power that the law has very wisely given them little.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] as i have faithfully recorded so many minute particulars, i hope i shall be pardoned for inserting so flattering an encomium on what is now offered to the publick. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note . [ ] 'the islanders of all degrees, whether of rank or understanding, universally admit it, except the ministers, who universally deny it, and are suspected to deny it in consequence of a system, against conviction.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] the true story of this lady, which happened in this century, is as frightfully romantick as if it had been the fiction of a gloomy fancy. she was the wife of one of the lords of session in scotland, a man of the very first blood of his country. for some mysterious reasons, which have never been discovered, she was seized and carried off in the dark, she knew not by whom, and by nightly journeys was conveyed to the highland shores, from whence she was transported by sea to the remote rock of st. kilda, where she remained, amongst its few wild inhabitants, a forlorn prisoner, but had a constant supply of provisions, and a woman to wait on her. no inquiry was made after her, till she at last found means to convey a letter to a confidential friend, by the daughter of a catechist, who concealed it in a clue of yarn. information being thus obtained at edinburgh, a ship was sent to bring her off; but intelligence of this being received, she was conveyed to m'leod's island of herries, where she died. in carstare's state papers we find an authentick narrative of connor [conn], a catholick priest, who turned protestant, being seized by some of lord seaforth's people, and detained prisoner in the island of herries several years; he was fed with bread and water, and lodged in a house where he was exposed to the rains and cold. sir james ogilvy writes (june , [ ]), that the lord chancellor, the lord advocate, and himself, were to meet next day, to take effectual methods to have this redressed. connor was then still detained; p. .--this shews what private oppression might in the last century be practised in the hebrides. in the same collection [in a letter dated sept. , ], the earl of argyle gives a picturesque account of an embassy from the _great_ m'neil _of barra_, as that insular chief used to be denominated:--'i received a letter yesterday from m'neil of barra, who lives very far off, sent by a gentleman in all formality, offering his service, which had made you laugh to see his entry. his style of his letter runs as if he were of another kingdom.'--page [ ]. boswell. sir walter scott says:--'i have seen lady grange's journal. she had become privy to some of the jacobite intrigues, in which her husband, lord grange (an erskine, brother of the earl of mar, and a lord of session), and his family were engaged. being on indifferent terms with her husband, she is said to have thrown out hints that she knew as much as would cost him his life. the judge probably thought with mrs. peachum, that it is rather an awkward state of domestic affairs, when the wife has it in her power to hang the husband. lady grange was the more to be dreaded, as she came of a vindictive race, being the grandchild [according to mr. chambers, the child] of that chiesley of dalry, who assassinated sir george lockhart, the lord president. many persons of importance in the highlands were concerned in removing her testimony. the notorious lovat, with a party of his men, were the direct agents in carrying her off; and st. kilda, belonging then to macleod, was selected as the place of confinement. the name by which she was spoken or written of was _corpach_, an ominous distinction, corresponding to what is called _subject_ in the lecture-room of an anatomist, or _shot_ in the slang of the westport murderers' [burke and hare]. sir walter adds that 'it was said of m'neil of barra, that when he dined, his bagpipes blew a particular strain, intimating that all the world might go to dinner.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] i doubt the justice of my fellow-traveller's remark concerning the french literati, many of whom, i am told, have considerable merit in conversation, as well as in their writings. that of monsieur de buffon, in particular, i am well assured, is highly instructive and entertaining. boswell. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] horace walpole, writing of , says:--'prize-fighting, in which we had horribly resembled the most barbarous and most polite nations, was suppressed by the legislature.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, iii. . according to mrs. piozzi (_anec._ p. ), johnson said that his 'father's brother, andrew, kept the ring in smithfield (where they wrestled and boxed) for a whole year, and never was thrown or conquered. mr. johnson was,' she continues, 'very conversant in the art of boxing.' she had heard him descant upon it 'much to the admiration of those who had no expectation of his skill in such matters.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , , and iv. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i, . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. , , . [ ] gibbon, thirteen years later, writing to lord sheffield about the commercial treaty with france, said (_misc. works_, ii. ):--'i hope both nations are gainers; since otherwise it cannot be lasting; and such double mutual gain is surely possible in fair trade, though it could not easily happen in the mischievous amusements of war and gaming.' [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ), writing of gratitude and resentment, says:--'though there are few who will practise a laborious virtue, there will never be wanting multitudes that will indulge an easy vice.' [ ] _aul. gellius_, lib. v. c. xiv. boswell. [ ] 'the difficulties in princes' business are many and great; but the greatest difficulty is often in their own mind. for it is common with princes, saith tacitus, to will contradictories. _sunt plerumque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrariae_. for it is the solecism of power to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.' bacon's _essays_, no. xix. [ ] yet johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on sept. :--'i am now no longer pleased with the delay; you can hear from me but seldom, and i cannot at all hear from you. it comes into my mind that some evil may happen.' _piozzi letters_, i. . on oct. he wrote to mr. thrale:--'having for many weeks had no letter, my longings are very great to be informed how all things are at home, as you and mistress allow me to call it.... i beg to have my thoughts set at rest by a letter from you or my mistress.' _ib_. p. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] sir walter scott thus describes dunvegan in :--'the whole castle occupies a precipitous mass of rock overhanging the lake, divided by two or three islands in that place, which form a snug little harbour under the walls. there is a court-yard looking out upon the sea, protected by a battery, at least a succession of embrasures, for only two guns are pointed, and these unfit for service. the ancient entrance rose up a flight of steps cut in the rock, and passed into this court-yard through a portal, but this is now demolished. you land under the castle, and walking round find yourself in front of it. this was originally inaccessible, for a brook coming down on the one side, a chasm of the rocks on the other, and a ditch in front, made it impervious. but the late macleod built a bridge over the stream, and the present laird is executing an entrance suitable to the character of this remarkable fortalice, by making a portal between two advanced towers, and an outer court, from which he proposes to throw a draw-bridge over to the high rock in front of the castle.' lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iv. . [ ] 'bella gerant alii; tu, felix austria, nube; quae dat mars aliis, dat tibi regna venus.' [ ] johnson says of this castle:--'it is so nearly entire, that it might have easily been made habitable, were there not an ominous tradition in the family, that the owner shall not long outlive the reparation. the grandfather of the present laird, in defiance of prediction, began the work, but desisted in a little time, and applied his money to worse uses.' _works_, ix. . [ ] macaulay (_essays_, ed. , i. ) ends a lively piece of criticism on mr. croker by saying:--'it requires no bentley or casaubon to perceive that philarchus is merely a false spelling for phylarchus, the chief of a tribe.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] sir walter scott wrote in :--'the monument is now nearly ruinous, and the inscription has fallen down.' lockhart's _scott_, iv. . [ ] 'wheel carriages they have none, but make a frame of timber, which is drawn by one horse, with the two points behind pressing on the ground. on this they sometimes drag home their sheaves, but often convey them home in a kind of open pannier, or frame of sticks, upon the horse's back.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'the young laird of col has attempted what no islander perhaps ever thought on. he has begun a road capable of a wheel-carriage. he has carried it about a mile.' _ib_. p. . [ ] captain phipps had sailed in may of this year, and in the neighbourhood of spitzbergen had reached the latitude of more than °. he returned to england in the end of september. _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] _aeneid_, vi. ii. [ ] 'in the afternoon, an interval of calm sunshine courted us out to see a cave on the shore, famous for its echo. when we went into the boat, one of our companions was asked in erse by the boatmen, who they were that came with him. he gave us characters, i suppose to our advantage, and was asked, in the spirit of the highlands, whether i could recite a long series of ancestors. the boatmen said, as i perceived afterwards, that they heard the cry of an english ghost. this, boswell says, disturbed him.... there was no echo; such is the fidelity of report.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] '_law_ or _low_ signifies a hill: _ex. gr._ wardlaw, guard hill, houndslow, the dog's hill.' blackie's _etymological geography_, p. . [ ] pepys often mentions them. at first he praises them highly, but of one of the later ones--_tryphon_--he writes:--'the play, though admirable, yet no pleasure almost in it, because just the very same design, and words, and sense, and plot, as every one of his plays have, any one of which would be held admirable, whereas so many of the same design and fancy do but dull one another.' pepys's _diary_, ed. , v. . [ ] the second and third earls are passed over by johnson. it was the fourth earl who, as charles boyle, had been bentley's antagonist. of this controversy a full account is given in lord macaulay's _life of atterbury_. [ ] the fifth earl, john. see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] the young lord was married on the th of may, , and the father's will is dated the th of nov. following. 'having,' says the testator, 'never observed that my son hath showed much taste or inclination, either for the entertainment or knowledge which study and learning afford, i give and bequeath all my books and mathematical instruments [with certain exceptions] to christchurch college, in oxford.' croker. [ ] his _life of swift_ is written in the form of _letters to his son, the hon. hamilton boyle._ the fifteenth letter, in which he finishes his criticism of _gulliver's travels_, affords a good instance of this 'studied variety of phrase.' 'i may finish my letter,' he writes, 'especially as the conclusion of it naturally turns my thoughts from yahoos to one of the dearest pledges i have upon earth, yourself, to whom i am a most affectionate father, 'orrery.' see _ante_, i. - , for johnson's letters to thomas warton, many of which end 'in studied varieties of phrase.' [ ] _the conquest of granada_ was dedicated to the duke of york. the conclusion is as follows:--'if at any time almanzor fulfils the parts of personal valour and of conduct, of a soldier and of a general; or, if i could yet give him a character more advantageous that what he has, of the most unshaken friend, the greatest of subjects, and the best of masters; i should then draw all the world a true resemblance of your worth and virtues; at least as far as they are capable of being copied by the mean abilities of, 'sir, 'your royal highness's 'most humble, and most 'obedient servant, 'j. dryden.' [ ] on the day of his coronation he was asked to pardon four young men who had broken the law against carrying arms. 'so long as i live,' he replied, 'every criminal must die.' 'he was inexorable in individual cases; he adhered to his laws with a rigour that amounted to cruelty, while in the framing of general rules we find him mild, yielding, and placable.' ranke's _popes_, ed. , i. , . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , where he discusses the question of shooting a highwayman. [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , he says:--'i believe men may be generally observed to grow less tender as they advance in age.' [ ] he passed over his own _life of savage_. [ ] 'when i was a young fellow, i wanted to write the _life of dryden' ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'i asked a very learned minister in sky, who had used all arts to make me believe the genuineness of the book, whether at last he believed it himself; but he would not answer. he wished me to be deceived for the honour of his country; but would not directly and formally deceive me. yet has this man's testimony been publickly produced, as of one that held _fingal_ to be the work of ossian.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] a young lady had sung to him an erse song. he asked her, 'what is that about? i question if she conceived that i did not understand it. for the entertainment of the company, said she. but, madam, what is the meaning of it? it is a love song. this was all the intelligence that i could obtain; nor have i been able to procure the translation of a single line of erse.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, oct. [ ] this droll quotation, i have since found, was from a song in honour of the earl of essex, called _queen elisabeth's champion_, which is preserved in a collection of old ballads, in three volumes, published in london in different years, between and . the full verse is as follows:-- 'oh! then bespoke the prentices all, living in london, both proper and tall, in a kind letter sent straight to the queen, for essex's sake they would fight all. raderer too, tandaro te, raderer, tandorer, tan do re.' boswell. [ ] la condamine describes a tribe called the tameos, on the north side of the river tiger in south america, who have a word for _three_. he continues:--'happily for those who have transactions with them, their arithmetic goes no farther. the brazilian tongue, a language spoken by people less savage, is equally barren; the people who speak it, where more than three is to be expressed, are obliged to use the portuguese.' pinkerton's _voyages_, xiv. . [ ] 'it was addison's practice, when he found any man invincibly wrong, to flatter his opinions by acquiescence, and sink him yet deeper in absurdity. this artifice of mischief was admired by stella; and swift seems to approve her admiration.' johnson's _works_, vii. . swift, in his _character of mrs. johnson _ (stella), says:--'whether this proceeded from her easiness in general, or from her indifference to persons, or from her despair of mending them, or from the same practice which she much liked in mr. addison, i cannot determine; but when she saw any of the company very warm in a wrong opinion, she was more inclined to confirm them in it than oppose them. the excuse she commonly gave, when her friends asked the reason, was, "that it prevented noise and saved time." swift's _works_, xiv. . [ ] in the appendix to blair's _critical dissertation on the poems of ossian_ macqueen is mentioned as one of his authorities for his statements. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note. [ ] i think it but justice to say, that i believe dr. johnson meant to ascribe mr. m'queen's conduct to inaccuracy and enthusiasm, and did not mean any severe imputation against him. boswell. [ ] in baretti's trial (_ante_, ii. , note i) he seems to have given his evidence clearly. what he had to say, however, was not much. [ ] boswell had spoken before to johnson about this omission. _ante_, ii. . [ ] it has been triumphantly asked, 'had not the plays of shakspeare lain dormant for many years before the appearance of mr. garrick? did he not exhibit the most excellent of them frequently for thirty years together, and render them extremely popular by his own inimitable performance?' he undoubtedly did. but dr. johnson's assertion has been misunderstood. knowing as well as the objectors what has been just stated, he must necessarily have meant, that 'mr. garrick did not as _a critick_ make shakspeare better known; he did not _illustrate_ any one _passage_ in any of his plays by acuteness of disquisition, or sagacity of conjecture: and what had been done with any degree of excellence in _that_ way was the proper and immediate subject of his preface. i may add in support of this explanation the following anecdote, related to me by one of the ablest commentators on shakspeare, who knew much of dr. johnson: 'now i have quitted the theatre, cries garrick, i will sit down and read shakspeare.' ''tis time you should, exclaimed johnson, for i much doubt if you ever examined one of his plays from the first scene to the last.' boswell. according to davies (_life of garrick_, i. ) during the twenty years' management of drury lane by booth, wilks and cibber (about - ) not more than eight or nine of shakspeare's plays were acted, whereas garrick annually gave the public seventeen or eighteen. _romeo and juliet_ had lain neglected near years, when in - garrick brought it out, or rather a hash of it. 'otway had made some alteration in the catastrophe, which mr. garrick greatly improved by the addition of a scene, which was written with a spirit not unworthy of shakespeare himself.' _ib_. p. . murphy (_life of garrick_, p. ), writing of this alteration, says:--'the catastrophe, as it now stands, is the most affecting in the whole compass of the drama.' davies says (p. ) that shortly before garrick's time 'a taste for shakespeare had been revived. the ladies had formed themselves into a society under the title of the shakespeare club. they bespoke every week some favourite play of his.' this revival was shown in the increasing number of readers of shakespeare. it was in that garrick began to act. in the previous sixteen years there had been published four editions of pope's _shakespeare_ and two of theobald's. in the next ten years were published five editions of hanmer's _shakespeare_, and two of warburton's, besides johnson's _observations on macbeth. _lowndes's _bibl. man._ ed. , p. . [ ] in her foolish _essay on shakespeare_, p. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] no man has less inclination to controversy than i have, particularly with a lady. but as i have claimed, and am conscious of being entitled to credit for the strictest fidelity, my respect for the publick obliges me to take notice of an insinuation which tends to impeach it. mrs. piozzi (late mrs. thrale), to her _anecdotes of dr. johnson_, added the following postscript:-- '_naples, feb._ , . 'since the foregoing went to the press, having seen a passage from mr. boswell's _tour to the hebrides,_ in which it is said, that _i could not get through mrs. montague's "essay on shakspeare,"_ i do not delay a moment to declare, that, on the contrary, i have always commended it myself, and heard it commended by every one else; and few things would give me more concern than to be thought incapable of tasting, or unwilling to testify my opinion of its excellence.' it is remarkable that this postscript is so expressed, as not to point out the person who said that mrs. thrale could not get through mrs. montague's book; and therefore i think it necessary to remind mrs. piozzi, that the assertion concerning her was dr. johnson's, and not mine. the second observation that i shall make on this postscript is, that it does not deny the fact asserted, though i must acknowledge from the praise it bestows on mrs. montague's book, it may have been designed to convey that meaning. what mrs. thrale's opinion is or was, or what she may or may not have said to dr. johnson concerning mrs. montague's book, it is not necessary for me to enquire. it is only incumbent on me to ascertain what dr. johnson said to me. i shall therefore confine myself to a very short state of the fact. the unfavourable opinion of mrs. montague's book, which dr. johnson, is here reported to have given, is, known to have been that which he uniformly expressed, as many of his friends well remember. so much, for the authenticity of the paragraph, as far as it relates to his own sentiments. the words containing the assertion, to which mrs. piozzi objects, are printed from my manuscript journal, and were taken down at the time. the journal was read by dr. johnson, who pointed out some inaccuracies, which i corrected, but did not mention any inaccuracy in the paragraph in question: and what is still more material, and very flattering to me, a considerable part of my journal, containing this paragraph, _was read several years ago by, mrs. thrale herself _[see _ante_, ii. ], who had it for some time in her possession, and returned it to me, without intimating that dr. johnson had mistaken her sentiments. when the first edition of my journal was passing through the press, it occurred to me that a peculiar delicacy was necessary to be observed in reporting the opinion of one literary lady concerning the performance of another; and i had such scruples on that head, that in the proof sheet i struck out the name of mrs. thrale from the above paragraph, and two or three hundred copies of my book were actually printed and published without it; of these sir joshua reynolds's copy happened to be one. but while the sheet was working off, a friend, for whose opinion i have great respect, suggested that i had no right to deprive mrs. thrale of the high honour which dr. johnson had done her, by stating her opinion along with that of mr. beauclerk, as coinciding with, and, as it were, sanctioning his own. the observation appeared to me so weighty and conclusive, that i hastened to the printing-house, and, as a piece of justice, restored mrs. thrale to that place from which a too scrupulous delicacy had excluded her. on this simple state of facts i shall make no observation whatever. boswell. this note was first published in the form of a letter to the editor of _the gazetteer_ on april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , for his knowledge of coining and brewing, and _post_, p. , for his knowledge of threshing and thatching. now and then, no doubt, 'he talked ostentatiously,' as he had at fort george about gunpowder (_ante_, p. ). in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , there is a paper on the _construction of fireworks_, which i have little doubt is his. the following passage is certainly johnsonian:--'the excellency of a rocket consists in the largeness of the train of fire it emits, the solemnity of its motion (which should be rather slow at first, but augmenting as it rises), the straightness of its flight, and the height to which it ascends.' [ ] perhaps johnson refers to stephen hales's _statical essays_ (london, ), in which is an account of experiments made on the blood and blood-vessels of animals. [ ] evidence was given at the tichborne trial to shew that it takes some years to learn the trade. [ ] not the very tavern, which was burned down in the great fire. p. cunningham. [ ] i do not see why i might not have been of this club without lessening my character. but dr. johnson's caution against supposing one's self concealed in london, may be very useful to prevent some people from doing many things, not only foolish, but criminal. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson defines _airy_ as _gay, sprightly, full of mirth_, &c. [ ] 'a man would be drowned by claret before it made him drunk.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_ ii. . [ ] lord chesterfield wrote in (_misc. works_, iv. ):-- drinking is a most beastly vice in every country, but it is really a ruinous one to ireland; nine gentlemen in ten in ireland are impoverished by the great quantity of claret, which from mistaken notions of hospitality and dignity, they think it necessary should be drunk in their houses. this expense leaves them no room to improve their estates by proper indulgence upon proper conditions to their tenants, who must pay them to the full, and upon the very day, that they may pay their wine-merchants.' in he wrote (_ib._p. ):--if it would but please god by his lightning to blast all the vines in the world, and by his thunder to turn all the wines now in ireland sour, as i most sincerely wish he would, ireland would enjoy a degree of quiet and plenty that it has never yet known.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'the sea being broken by the multitude of islands does not roar with so much noise, nor beat the storm with such foamy violence as i have remarked on the coast of sussex. though, while i was in the hebrides, the wind was extremely turbulent, i never saw very high billows.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] johnson this day thus wrote of mr. m'queen to mrs. thrale:--'you find that all the islanders even in these recesses of life are not barbarous. one of the ministers who has adhered to us almost all the time is an excellent scholar.' _piozzi letters,_ i. . [ ] see _post_, nov. . [ ] this was a dexterous mode of description, for the purpose of his argument; for what he alluded to was, a sermon published by the learned dr. william wishart, formerly principal of the college at edinburgh, to warn men _against_ confiding in a death-bed _repentance_ of the inefficacy of which he entertained notions very different from those of dr. johnson. boswell. [ ] the rev. dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) thus writes of the english clergy whom he met at harrogate in :--'i had never seen so many of them together before, and between this and the following year i was able to form a true judgment of them. they are, in general--i mean the lower order--divided into bucks and prigs; of which the first, though inconceivably ignorant, and sometimes indecent in their morals, yet i held them to be most tolerable, because they were unassuming, and had no other affectation but that of behaving themselves like gentlemen. the other division of them, the prigs, are truly not to be endured, for they are but half learned, are ignorant of the world, narrow-minded, pedantic, and overbearing. and now and then you meet with a _rara avis_ who is accomplished and agreeable, a man of the world without licentiousness, of learning without pedantry, and pious without sanctimony; but this _is_ a _rara avis_'. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] johnson defines _manage_ in this sense _to train a horse to graceful action_, and quotes young:-- 'they vault from hunters to the managed steed.' [ ] of sir william forbes of a later generation, lockhart (_life of scott_, ix. ) writes as follows:--'sir william forbes, whose banking-house was one of messrs. ballantyne's chief creditors, crowned his generous efforts for scott's relief by privately paying the whole of abud's demand (nearly £ ) out of his own pocket.' [ ] this scarcity of cash still exists on the islands, in several of which five shilling notes are necessarily issued to have some circulating medium. if you insist on having change, you must purchase something at a shop. walter scott. [ ] 'the payment of rent in kind has been so long disused in england that it is totally forgotten. it was practised very lately in the hebrides, and probably still continues, not only in st. kilda, where money is not yet known, but in others of the smaller and remoter islands.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'a place where the imagination is more amused cannot easily be found. the mountains about it are of great height, with waterfalls succeeding one another so fast, that as one ceases to be heard another begins.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson seems to be speaking of hailes's _memorials and letters relating to the history of britain in the reign of james i and of charles i_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'in all ages of the world priests have been enemies to liberty, and it is certain that this steady conduct of theirs must have been founded on fixed reasons of interest and ambition. liberty of thinking and of expressing our thoughts is always fatal to priestly power, and to those pious frauds on which it is commonly founded.... hence it must happen in such a government as that of britain, that the established clergy, while things are in their natural situation, will always be of the _court_-party; as, on the contrary, dissenters of all kinds will be of the _country_-party.' hume's _essays_, part , no. viii. [ ] in the original _every island's but a prison._ the song is by a mr. coffey, and is given in ritson's _english songs_ ( ), ii. . it begins:-- 'welcome, welcome, brother debtor, to this poor but merry place, where no bailiff, dun, nor setter, dares to show his frightful face.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale the day before (perhaps it was this day, and the copyist blundered):--' i am still in sky. do you remember the song-- we have at one time no boat, and at another may have too much wind; but of our reception here we have no reason to complain.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] my ingenuously relating this occasional instance of intemperance has i find been made the subject both of serious criticism and ludicrous banter. with the banterers i shall not trouble myself, but i wonder that those who pretend to the appellation of serious criticks should not have had sagacity enough to perceive that here, as in every other part of the present work, my principal object was to delineate dr. johnson's manners and character. in justice to him i would not omit an anecdote, which, though in some degree to my own disadvantage, exhibits in so strong a light the indulgence and good humour with which he could treat those excesses in his friends, of which he highly disapproved. in some other instances, the criticks have been equally wrong as to the true motive of my recording particulars, the objections to which i saw as clearly as they. but it would be an endless task for an authour to point out upon every occasion the precise object he has in view, contenting himself with the approbation of readers of discernment and taste, he ought not to complain that some are found who cannot or will not understand him. boswell. [ ] in the original, 'wherein is excess.' [ ] see chappell's _popular music of the olden time_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where he took upon his knee a young woman who came to consult him on the subject of methodism. [ ] see _ante_, pp. , . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] 'if ev'ry wheel of that unwearied mill that turned ten thousand verses now stands still.' _imitations of horace, epis._ ii. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] 'nescio qua natale solum dulcedine captos ducit.'--ovid, _ex pont_. i. . . [ ] lift up your hearts. [ ] mr. croker prints the following letter written to macleod the day before:-- 'ostig, th sept. . 'dear sir,--we are now on the margin of the sea, waiting for a boat and a wind. boswell grows impatient; but the kind treatment which i find wherever i go, makes me leave, with some heaviness of heart, an island which i am not very likely to see again. having now gone as far as horses can carry us, we thankfully return them. my steed will, i hope, be received with kindness;--he has borne me, heavy as i am, over ground both rough and steep, with great fidelity; and for the use of him, as for your other favours, i hope you will believe me thankful, and willing, at whatever distance we may be placed, to shew my sense of your kindness, by any offices of friendship that may fall within my power. 'lady macleod and the young ladies have, by their hospitality and politeness, made an impression on my mind, which will not easily be effaced. be pleased to tell them, that i remember them with great tenderness, and great respect.--i am, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'p.s.--we passed two days at talisker very happily, both by the pleasantness of the place and elegance of our reception.' [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ), after describing how shenstone laid out the leasowes, continues:--'whether to plant a walk in undulating curves, and to place a bench at every turn where there is an object to catch the view; to make water run where it will be heard, and to stagnate where it will be seen; to leave intervals where the eye will be pleased, and to thicken the plantation where there is something to be hidden, demands any great powers of mind, i will not inquire: perhaps a surly and sullen speculator may think such performances rather the sport than the business of human reason.' [ ] johnson quotes this and the two preceding stanzas as 'a passage, to which if any mind denies its sympathy, it has no acquaintance with love or nature.' _ib_. p. . [ ] 'his mind was not very comprehensive, nor his curiosity active; he had no value for those parts of knowledge which he had not himself cultivated.' _ib._ p. . [ ] in the preface to vol. iii. of shenstone's _works_, ed. , a quotation is given (p. vi) from one of the poet's letters in which he complains of this burning. he writes:--'i look upon my letters as some of my _chef-d'auvres_.' on p. , after mentioning _rasselas_, he continues:--'did i tell you i had a letter from johnson, inclosing vernon's _parish-clerk_?' [ ] 'the truth is these elegies have neither passion, nature, nor manners. where there is fiction, there is no passion: he that describes himself as a shepherd, and his neaera or delia as a shepherdess, and talks of goats and lambs, feels no passion. he that courts his mistress with roman imagery deserves to lose her; for she may with good reason suspect his sincerity.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, iv. . [ ] his lines on pulteney, earl of bath, still deserve some fame:-- 'leave a blank here and there in each page to enrol the fair deeds of his youth! when you mention the acts of his age, leave a blank for his honour and truth.' from _the statesman_, h. c. williams's _odes_, p. . [ ] hamlet, act ii. sc. . [ ] he did not mention the name of any particular person; but those who are conversant with the political world will probably recollect more persons than one to whom this observation may be applied. boswell. mr. croker thinks that lord north was meant. for his ministry johnson certainly came to have a great contempt (_ante_, iv. ). if johnson was thinking of him, he differed widely in opinion from gibbon, who describes north as 'a consummate master of debate, who could wield with equal dexterity the arms of reason and of ridicule.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . on may , , he wrote:--' if they turned out lord north to-morrow, they would still leave him one of the best companions in the kingdom.' _ib._ ii. . [ ] horace walpole is speaking of this work, when he wrote on may , (_letters_, iii. ):--'dr. young has published a new book, on purpose, he says himself, to have an opportunity of telling a story that he has known these forty years. mr. addison sent for the young lord warwick, as he was dying, to shew him in what peace a christian could die--unluckily he died of brandy--nothing makes a christian die in peace like being maudlin! but don't say this in gath, where you are.' [ ] 'his [young's] plan seems to have started in his mind at the present moment; and his thoughts appear the effect of chance, sometimes adverse, and sometimes lucky, with very little operation of judgment.... his verses are formed by no certain model; he is no more like himself in his different productions than he is like others. he seems never to have studied prosody, nor to have had any direction but from his own ear. but with all his defects, he was a man of genius and a poet.' johnson's _works_, viii. , . mrs. piozzi (_synonymy_, ii. ) tells why 'dr. johnson despised young's quantity of common knowledge as comparatively small. 'twas only because, speaking once upon the subject of metrical composition, he seemed totally ignorant of what are called rhopalick verses, from the greek word, a club--verses in which each word must be a syllable longer than that which goes before, such as: spes deus aeternae stationis conciliator.' [ ] he had said this before. _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'brunetta's wise in actions great and rare, but scorns on trifles to bestow her care. thus ev'ry hour brunetta is to blame, because th' occasion is beneath her aim. think nought a trifle, though it small appear; small sands the mountains, moments make the year, and trifles life. your care to trifles give, or you may die before you truly live.' _love of fame_, satire vi. johnson often taught that life is made up of trifles. see _ante_, i. . [ ] "but hold," she cries, "lampooner, have a care; must i want common sense, because i'm fair?" o no: see stella; her eyes shine as bright, as if her tongue was never in the right; and yet what real learning, judgment, fire! she seems inspir'd, and can herself inspire: how then (if malice rul'd not all the fair) could daphne publish, and could she forbear? we grant that beauty is no bar to sense, nor is't a sanction for impertinence. _love of fame_, satire v. [ ] johnson called on young's son at welwyn in june, . _ante_, iv. . croft, in his _life of young_ (johnson's _works_, viii. ), says that 'young and his housekeeper were ridiculed with more ill-nature than wit in a kind of novel published by kidgell in , called _the card_, under the name of dr. elwes and mrs. fusby.' [ ] _memoirs of philip doddridge_, ed. , p. . [ ] so late as he said 'this hanoverian family is isolée here.' _ante_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where he hoped that 'this gloom of infidelity was only a transient cloud.' [ ] boswell has recorded this saying, _ante_, iv. . [ ] in an english version of this work had been published. _gent. mag_. , p. . in the chronological catalogue on p. in vol. of voltaire's _works_, ed. , it is entered as _'histoire de la guerre de_ , fondue en partie dans le _précis du siècle de louis xv_.' [ ] boswell is here merely repeating johnson's words, who on april of this year, advising him to keep a journal, had said, 'the great thing to be recorded is the state of your own mind.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] this word is not in his _dictionary_. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , ; iii. , and _post_, under nov. . [ ] beattie had attacked hume in his _essay on truth_ (_ante_, ii. and v. ). reynolds this autumn had painted beattie in his gown of an oxford doctor of civil law, with his _essay_ under his arm. 'the angel of truth is going before him, and beating down the vices, envy, falsehood, &c., which are represented by a group of figures falling at his approach, and the principal head in this group is made an exact likeness of voltaire. when dr. goldsmith saw this picture, he was very indignant at it, and said:--"it very ill becomes a man of your eminence and character, sir joshua, to condescend to be a mean flatterer, or to wish to degrade so high a genius as voltaire before so mean a writer as dr. beattie; for dr. beattie and his book together will, in the space of ten years, not be known ever to have been in existence, but your allegorical picture and the fame of voltaire will live for ever to your disgrace as a flatterer."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . another of the figures was commonly said to be a portrait of hume; but forbes (_life of beattie_, ed. , p. ) says he had reason to believe that sir joshua had no thought either of hume or voltaire. beattie's _essay_ is so much a thing of the past that dr. j. h. burton does not, i believe, take the trouble ever to mention it in his _life of hume_. burns did not hold with goldsmith, for he took beattie's side:-- 'hence sweet harmonious beattie sung his _minstrel_ lays; or tore, with noble ardour stung, the _sceptic's_ bays.' (_the vision_, part ii.) [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] william tytler published in an _examination of the histories of dr. robertson and mr. hume with respect to mary queen of scots_. it was reviewed by johnson. _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson's _rasselas_ was published in either march or april, and goldsmith's _polite learning_ in april of .i do not find that they published any other works at the same time. if these are the works meant, we have a proof that the two writers knew each other earlier than was otherwise known. [ ] 'a learned prelate accidentally met bentley in the days of _phalaris_; and after having complimented him on that noble piece of criticism (the _answer_ to the oxford writers) he bad him not be discouraged at this run upon him, for tho' they had got the laughers on their side, yet mere wit and raillery could not long hold out against a work of so much merit. to which the other replied, "indeed dr. s. [sprat], i am in no pain about the matter. for i hold it as certain, that no man was ever written out of reputation but by himself."' _warburton on pope_, iv. , quoted in person's _tracts_, p. . 'against personal abuse,' says hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'johnson was ever armed by a reflection that i have heard him utter:--"alas! reputation would be of little worth, were it in the power of every concealed enemy to deprive us of it."' he wrote to baretti:--'a man of genius has been seldom ruined but by himself.' _ante_, i. . voltaire in his _essay sur les inconvéniens attachés à la littérature_ (_works_, ed. , xliii. ), after describing all that an author does to win the favour of the critics, continues:--'tous vos soins n'empêchent pas que quelque journaliste ne vous déchire. vous lui répondez; il réplique; vous avez un procès par écrit devant le public, qui condamne les deux parties au ridicule.' see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] however advantageous attacks may be, the feelings with which they are regarded by authors are better described by fielding when he says:--'nor shall we conclude the injury done this way to be very slight, when we consider a book as the author's offspring, and indeed as the child of his brain. the reader who hath suffered his muse to continue hitherto in a virgin state can have but a very inadequate idea of this kind of paternal fondness. to such we may parody the tender exclamation of macduff, "alas! thou hast written no book."' _tom jones_, bk. xi. ch. . [ ] it is strange that johnson should not have known that the _adventures of a guinea_ was written by a namesake of his own, charles johnson. being disqualified for the bar, which was his profession, by a supervening deafness, he went to india, and made some fortune, and died there about . walter scott. [ ] salusbury, not salisbury. [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, .ii ) mentions in his cousin sir john philipps, of picton castle; 'a noted jacobite.'... he thus mentions lady philipps in when she was 'very aged.' 'they have a favourite black, who has lived with them a great many years, and is remarkably sensible. to amuse lady philipps under a long illness, they had read to her the account of the pelew islands. somebody happened to say we were sending a ship thither; the black, who was in the room, exclaimed, "then there is an end of their happiness." what a satire on europe!' _ib_. ix. . lady philips was known to johnson through miss williams, to whom, as a note in croker's _boswell_ (p. ) shews, she made a small yearly allowance. [ ] 'to teach the minuter decencies and inferiour duties, to regulate the practice of daily conversation, to correct those depravities which are rather ridiculous than criminal, and remove those grievances which, if they produce no lasting calamities, impress hourly vexation, was first attempted by casa in his book of _manners_, and castiglione in his _courtier_; two books yet celebrated in italy for purity and elegance.' johnson's _works_, vii. . _the courtier_ was translated into english so early as . lowndes's _bibl. man_. ed. , p. . [ ] burnet (_history of his own time_, ii. ) mentions whitby among the persons who both managed and directed the controversial war' against popery towards the end of charles ii's reign. 'popery,' he says, 'was never so well understood by the nation as it came to be upon this occasion.' whitby's commentary _on the new testament_ was published in - . [ ] by henry mackenzie, the author of _the man of feeling. ante_, i. . it had been published anonymously this spring. the play of the same name is by macklin. it was brought out in . [ ] no doubt sir a. macdonald. _ante_, p. . this 'penurious gentleman' is mentioned again, p. . [ ] molière's play of _l'avare_. [ ] '...facit indignatio versum.' juvenal, _sat_. i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] he was sixty-four. [ ] still, perhaps, in the _western isles_, 'it may be we shall touch the happy isles.' tennyson's _ulysses._ [ ] see _ante_, ii, . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] sir alexander macdonald. [ ] 'to be or not to be: that is the question.' _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] virgil, _eclogues_, iii. iii. [ ] 'the stormy hebrides.' milton's _lycidas_, . . [ ] boswell was thinking of the passage (p. xxi.) in which hawkesworth tells how one of captain cook's ships was saved by the wind falling. 'if,' he writes, 'it was a natural event, providence is out of the question; at least we can with no more propriety say that providentially the wind ceased, than that providentially the sun rose in the morning. if it was not,' &c. according to malone the attacks made on hawkesworth in the newspapers for this passage 'affected him so much that from low spirits he was seized with a nervous fever, which on account of the high living he had indulged in had the more power on him; and he is supposed to have put an end to his life by intentionally taking an immoderate dose of opium.' prior's _malone_, p. . mme. d'arblay says that these attacks shortened his life. _memoirs of dr. burney_, i. . he died on nov. of this year. see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] 'after having been detained by storms many days at sky we left it, as we thought, with a fair wind; but a violent gust, which bos had a great mind to call a tempest, forced us into col.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'the wind blew against us in a short time with such violence, that we, being no seasoned sailors, were willing to call it a tempest... the master knew not well whither to go; and our difficulties might, perhaps, have filled a very pathetick page, had not mr. maclean of col... piloted us safe into his own harbour.' johnson's _works_, ix. . sir walter scott says, 'their risque, in a sea full of islands, was very considerable. indeed, the whole expedition was highly perilous, considering the season of the year, the precarious chance of getting sea-worthy boats, and the ignorance of the hebrideans, who, notwithstanding the opportunities, i may say the _necessities_, of their situation, are very careless and unskilful sailors.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] for as the tempest drives, i shape my way. francis. [horace, _epistles_, i. . .] boswell. [ ] 'imberbus juvenis, tandem custode remoto, gaudet equis canibusque, et aprici gramine campi.' 'the youth, whose will no froward tutor bounds, joys in the sunny field, his horse and hounds.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. . . [ ] _henry vi_, act i. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] johnson describes him as 'a gentleman who has lived some time in the east indies, but, having dethroned no nabob, is not too rich to settle in his own country.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] this curious exhibition may perhaps remind some of my readers of the ludicrous lines, made, during sir robert walpole's administration, on mr. george (afterwards lord) lyttelton, though the figures of the two personages must be allowed to be very different:-- 'but who is this astride the pony; so long, so lean, so lank, so bony? dat be de great orator, littletony.' boswell. these lines were beneath a caricature called _the motion_, described by horace walpole in his letter of march , , and said by mr. cunningham to be 'the earliest good political caricature that we possess.' walpole's _letters_, i. . mr. croker says that 'the exact words are:-- bony? o he be de great orator little-tony.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in burnet, who was then professor of theology in glasgow, dedicated to lauderdale _a vindication of the authority, &c., of the church and state of scotland_. in it he writes of the duke's 'noble character, and more lasting and inward characters of his princely mind.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'others have considered infinite space as the receptacle, or rather the habitation of the almighty; but the noblest and most exalted way of considering this infinite space, is that of sir isaac newton, who calls it the _sensorium_ of the godhead. brutes and men have their _sensoriola_, or little _sensoriums_, by which they apprehend the presence, and perceive the actions, of a few objects that lie contiguous to them. their knowledge and observation turn within a very narrow circle. but as god almighty cannot but perceive and know everything in which he resides, infinite space gives room to infinite knowledge, and is, as it were, an organ to omniscience.' addison, _the spectator_, no. . [ ] 'le célèbre philosophe leibnitz ... attaqua ces expressions du philosophe anglais, dans une lettre qu'il écrivit en à la feue reine d'angleterre, épouse de george ii. cette princesse, digne d'être en commerce avec leibnitz et newton, engagea une dispute reglée par lettres entre les deux parties. mais newton, ennemi de toute dispute et avare de son temps, laissa le docteur clarke, son disciple en physique, et pour le moins son égal en métaphysique, entrer pour lui dans la lice. la dispute roula sur presque toutes les idées métaphysiques de newton, et c'est peut-être le plus beau monument que nous ayons des combats littéraires.' voltaire's _works_, ed. , xxviii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , where boswell asked johnson 'if he would not have done more good if he had been more gentle.' johnson. 'no, sir; i have done more good as i am. obscenity and impiety have always been repressed in my company.' [ ] 'mr. maclean has the reputation of great learning: he is seventy-seven years old, but not infirm, with a look of venerable dignity, excelling what i remember in any other man. his conversation was not unsuitable to his appearance. i lost some of his good will by treating a heretical writer with more regard than in his opinion a heretick could deserve. i honoured his orthodoxy, and did not much censure his asperity. a man who has settled his opinions does not love to have the tranquillity of his conviction disturbed; and at seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'mr. maclean has no publick edifice for the exercise of his ministry, and can officiate to no greater number than a room can contain; and the room of a hut is not very large... the want of churches is not the only impediment to piety; there is likewise a want of ministers. a parish often contains more islands than one... all the provision made by the present ecclesiastical constitution for the inhabitants of about a hundred square miles is a prayer and sermon in a little room once in three weeks.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'our polly is a sad slut, nor heeds what we have taught her. i wonder any man alive will ever rear a daughter. for she must have both hoods and gowns, and hoops to swell her pride, with scarfs and stays, and gloves and lace; and she will have men beside; and when she's drest with care and cost, all-tempting, fine and gay, as men should serve a cucumber, she flings herself away.' air vii. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] in . [ ] 'when ajax strives some rock's vast weight to throw, the line too labours, and the words move slow.' pope, _essay on criticism_, l. . [ ] johnson's remark on these stones is curious as shewing that he had not even a glimpse of the discoveries to be made by geology. after saying that 'no account can be given' of the position of one of the stones, he continues:--'there are so many important things of which human knowledge can give no account, that it may be forgiven us if we speculate no longer on two stones in col.' _works_, ix. . see _ante_, ii. , for his censure of brydone's 'anti-mosaical remark.' [ ] 'malo me galatea petit, lasciva puella.' 'my phillis me with pelted apples plies.' dryden. virgil, _eclogues_, iii. . [ ] 'the helpless traveller, with wild surprise, sees the dry desert all around him rise, and smother'd in the dusty whirlwind dies.' _cato_ act ii. sc. . [ ] johnson seems unwilling to believe this. 'i am not of opinion that by any surveys or land-marks its [the sand's] limits have been ever fixed, or its progression ascertained. if one man has confidence enough to say that it advances, nobody can bring any proof to support him in denying it.' _works_, ix. . he had seen land in like manner laid waste north of aberdeen; where 'the owner, when he was required to pay the usual tax, desired rather to resign the ground.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _box_, in this sense, is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iv. . [ ] in the original, _rich windows. a long story_, l. . [ ] 'and this according to the philosophers is happiness.' boswell says of crabbe's poem _the village_, that 'its sentiments as to the false notions of rustick happiness and rustick virtue were quite congenial with johnson's own.' _ante_, iv. . [ ] 'this innovation was considered by mr. macsweyn as the idle project of a young head, heated with english fancies; but he has now found that turnips will really grow, and that hungry sheep and cows will really eat them.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'the young laird is heir, perhaps, to square miles of land, which, at ten shillings an acre, would bring him £ , a year. he is desirous of improving the agriculture of his country; and, in imitation of the czar, travelled for improvement, and worked with his own hands upon a farm in hertfordshire.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'in more fruitful countries the removal of one only makes room for the succession of another; but in the hebrides the loss of an inhabitant leaves a lasting vacuity; for nobody born in any other parts of the world will choose this country for his residence.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'in daillé wrote his celebrated book, _de l'usage des pères_, or _of the use of the fathers_. dr. fleetwood, bishop of ely, said of it that he thought the author had pretty sufficiently proved they were of _no use_ at all.' chalmers's _biog. dict_. xi. . [ ] _enquiry after happiness_, by richard lucas, d.d., . [ ] _divine dialogues_, by henry more, d.d. see _ante_, ii. , note i. [ ] by david gregory, the second of the sixteen professors which the family of gregory gave to the universities. _ante_, p. . [ ] 'johnson's landlord and next neighbour in bolt-court.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'cuper's gardens, near the south bank of the thames, opposite to somerset house. the gardens were illuminated, and the company entertained by a band of music and fireworks; but this, with other places of the same kind, has been lately discontinued by an act that has reduced the number of these seats of luxury and dissipation.' dodsley's _london and its environs_, ed. , ii. . the act was the th george ii, for 'preventing robberies and regulating places of public entertainment.' _parl. hist_. xiv. . [ ] 'mr. johnson,' according to mr. langton, 'used to laugh at a passage in carte's _life of the duke of ormond,_ where he gravely observes "that he was always in full dress when he went to court; too many being in the practice of going thither with double lapells."' _boswelliana_, p. . the following is the passage:--'no severity of weather or condition of health served him for a reason of not observing that decorum of dress which he thought a point of respect to persons and places. in winter time people were allowed to come to court with double-breasted coats, a sort of undress. the duke would never take advantage of that indulgence; but let it be never so cold, he always came in his proper habit, and indeed the king himself always did the same, though too many neglected his example to make use of the liberty he was pleased to allow.' carte's _life of ormond_, iv. . see _ante_, i. . it was originally published in _three_ volumes folio in - . [ ] seneca's two epigrams on corsica are quoted in boswell's _corsica_, first edition, p. . boswell, in one of his _hypochondriacks (london mag._ , p. ), says:--'for seneca i have a double reverence, both for his own worth, and because he was the heathen sage whom my grandfather constantly studied.' [ ] 'very near the house of maclean stands the castle of col, which was the mansion of the laird till the house was built.... on the wall was, not long ago, a stone with an inscription, importing, that if any man of the clan of maclonich shall appear before this castle, though he come at midnight, with a man's head in his hand, he shall there find safety and protection against all but the king. this is an old highland treaty made upon a very memorable occasion. maclean, the son of john gerves, who recovered col, and conquered barra, had obtained, it is said, from james the second, a grant of the lands of lochiel, forfeited, i suppose, by some offence against the state. forfeited estates were not in those days quietly resigned; maclean, therefore, went with an armed force to seize his new possessions, and, i know not for what reason, took his wife with him. the camerons rose in defence of their chief, and a battle was fought at loch ness, near the place where fort augustus now stands, in which lochiel obtained the victory, and maclean, with his followers, was defeated and destroyed. the lady fell into the hands of the conquerors, and, being found pregnant, was placed in the custody of maclonich, one of a tribe or family branched from cameron, with orders, if she brought a boy, to destroy him, if a girl, to spare her. maclonich's wife, who was with child likewise, had a girl about the same time at which lady maclean brought a boy; and maclonich, with more generosity to his captive than fidelity to his trust, contrived that the children should be changed. maclean, being thus preserved from death, in time recovered his original patrimony; and, in gratitude to his friend, made his castle a place of refuge to any of the clan that should think himself in danger; and, as a proof of reciprocal confidence, maclean took upon himself and his posterity the care of educating the heir of maclonich.' johnson's _works,_ ix. . [ ] 'mr. croker tells us that the great marquis of montrose was beheaded at edinburgh in . there is not a forward boy at any school in england who does not know that the marquis was hanged.' macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i. [ ] it is observable that men of the first rank spelt very ill in the last century. in the first of these letters i have preserved the original spelling. boswell. [ ] see _ante,_ i., . [ ] muir-fowl is grouse. _ante_ p. . [ ] see ante, p. , note . [ ] 'in col only two houses pay the window tax; for only two have six windows, which, i suppose, are the laird's and mr. macsweyn's.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'the window tax, as it stands at present (january )...lays a duty upon every window, which in england augments gradually from twopence, the lowest rate upon houses with not more than seven windows, to two shillings, the highest rate upon houses with twenty-five windows and upwards.' _wealth of nations,_ v. . . . the tax was first imposed in , as a substitute for hearth money. macaulay's _england,_ ed. , vii. . it was abolished in . [ ] thomas carlyle was not fourteen when, one 'dark frosty november morning,' he set off on foot for the university at edinburgh--a distance of nearly one hundred miles. froude's _carlyle_, i. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] _of the nature and use of lots: a treatise historicall and theologicall._ by thomas gataker. london, . _the spirituall watch, or christ's generall watch-word._ by thomas gataker. london, . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] he visited it with the thrales on sept. , , when returning from his tour to wales, and with boswell in (_ante_, ii. ). [ ] mr. croker says that 'this, no doubt, alludes to jacob bryant, the secretary or librarian at blenheim, with whom johnson had had perhaps some coolness now forgotten.' the supposition of the coolness seems needless. with so little to go upon, guessing is very hazardous. [ ] topham beauclerk, who had married the duke's sister, after she had been divorced for adultery with him from her first husband viscount bolingbroke. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _post_, dempster's letter of feb. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson said that 'if he were a gentleman of landed property, he would turn out all his tenants who did not vote for the candidate whom he supported.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'they have opinions which cannot be ranked with superstition, because they regard only natural effects. they expect better crops of grain by sowing their seed in the moon's increase. the moon has great influence in vulgar philosophy. in my memory it was a precept annually given in one of the english almanacks, "to kill hogs when the moon was increasing, and the bacon would prove the better in boiling."' johnson's _works,_ ix. . bacon, in his _natural history_(no. ) says:--'for the increase of moisture, the opinion received is, that seeds will grow soonest if they be set in the increase of the moon.' [ ] the question which johnson asked with such unusual warmth might have been answered, 'by sowing the bent, or couch grass.' walter scott. [ ] see _ante,_ i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] it is remarkable, that dr. johnson should have read this account of some of his own peculiar habits, without saying any thing on the subject, which i hoped he would have done. boswell. see _ante_, p. , note , and iv. , where boswell 'observed he must have been a bold laugher who would have ventured to tell dr. johnson of any of his peculiarities.' [ ] in this he was very unlike swift, who, in his youth, when travelling in england, 'generally chose to dine with waggoners, hostlers, and persons of that rank; and he used to lie at night in houses where he found written of the door _lodgings for a penny_. he delighted in scenes of low life.' lord orrery's _swift_, ed. , p. . [ ] this is from the _jests of hierocles._ croker. [ ] 'the grave a gay companion shun.' francis. horace, _epis._ xviii. . [ ] boswell in found that 'oats were much used as food in dr. johnson's own town.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'the richness of the round steep green knolls, clothed with copse, and glancing with cascades, and a pleasant peep at a small fresh-water loch embosomed among them--the view of the bay, surrounded and guarded by the island of colvay--the gliding of two or three vessels in the more distant sound--and the row of the gigantic ardnamurchan mountains closing the scene to the north, almost justify the eulogium of sacheverell, [_post,_ p. ] who, in , declared the bay of tobermory might equal any prospect in italy.' lockhart's _scott,_ iv. . [ ] 'the saying of the old philosopher who observes, that he who wants least is most like the gods who want nothing, was a favourite sentence with dr. johnson, who, on his own part, required less attendance, sick or well, than ever i saw any human creature. conversation was all he required to make him happy.' piozzi's _anec._ p. . [ ] _remarks on several parts of italy_ (_ante_, ii. ). johnson (_works_, vii. ) says of these _travels_:--'of many parts it is not a very severe censure to say that they might have been written at home.' he adds that 'the book, though awhile neglected, became in time so much the favourite of the publick, that before it was reprinted it rose to five times its price.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) says of pope that 'he had before him not only what his own meditation suggested, but what he had found in other writers that might be _accomodated_ to his present purpose.' boswell's use of the word is perhaps derived, as mr. croker suggests, from _accommoder_, in the sense of _dressing up or cooking meats_. this word occurs in an amusing story that boswell tells in one of his hypochondriacks (_london mag_. , p. ):--'a friend of mine told me that he engaged a french cook for sir b. keen, when ambassador in spain, and when he asked the fellow if he had ever dressed any magnificent dinners the answer was:--"monsieur, j'ai accommodé un dîner qui faisait trembler toute la france."' scott, in _guy mannering_ (ed. , iii. ), describes 'miss bertram's solicitude to soothe and _accommodate_ her parent.' see _ante_, iv. , note , for '_accommodated_ the ladies.' to sum up, we may say with justice shallow:--'accommodated! it comes of _accommodo_; very good; a good phrase.' _henry iv_, act iii. sc. . [ ] 'louis moréri, né en provence, en . on ne s'attendait pas que l'auteur du _pays d'amour_, et le traducteur de _rodriguez_, entreprît dans sa jeunesse le premier dictionnaire de faits qu'on eût encore vu. ce grand travail lui coûta la vie... mort en .' voltaire's _works_, ed. , xvii. . [ ] johnson looked upon _ana_ as an english word, for he gives it in his _dictionary_. [ ] i take leave to enter my strongest protest against this judgement. _bossuet_ i hold to be one of the first luminaries of religion and literature. if there are who do not read him, it is full time they should begin. boswell. [ ] just in the gate, and in the jaws of hell, revengeful cares, and sullen sorrows dwell; and pale diseases, and repining age; want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage; here toils and death, and death's half-brother, sleep, forms terrible to view their sentry keep. dryden, _aeneid_, vi. . boswell. voltaire, in his essay _sur les inconvéniens attachés à la littérature_ (_works_, xliii. ), says:--'enfin, après un an de refus et de négociations, votre ouvrage s'imprime; c'est alors qu'il faut ou assoupir les _cerbères_ de la littérature ou les faire aboyer en votre faveur.' he therefore carries on the resemblance one step further,-- 'cerberus haec ingens latratu regna trifauci personat.' _aeneid_, vi. . [ ] it was in that boswell made johnson's acquaintance. _ante_, i. . [ ] it is no small satisfaction to me to reflect, that dr. johnson read this, and, after being apprized of my intention, communicated to me, at subsequent periods, many particulars of his life, which probably could not otherwise have been preserved. boswell. see _ante_, i. . [ ] though mull is, as johnson says, the third island of the hebrides in extent, there was no post there. _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] this observation is very just. the time for the hebrides was too late by a month or six weeks. i have heard those who remembered their tour express surprise they were not drowned. walter scott. [ ] _ the charmer, a collection of songs scotch and english._ edinburgh, . [ ] by thomas willis, m.d. it was published in . 'in this work he maintains that the soul of brutes is like the vital principle in man, that it is corporeal in its nature and perishes with the body. although the book was dedicated to the archbishop of canterbury, his orthodoxy, a matter that willis regarded much, was called in question.' knight's _eng. cyclo_. vi. . burnet speaks of him as 'willis, the great physician.' _history of his own time_, ed. , i. . see _wood's athenae_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. and iii. , where he said:--'had i learnt to fiddle, i should have done nothing else.' [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. langton thinks this must have been the hasty expression of a splenetick moment, as he has heard dr. johnson speak of mr. spence's judgment in criticism with so high a degree of respect, as to shew that this was not his settled opinion of him. let me add that, in the preface to the _preceptor_, he recommends spence's _essay on papers odyssey_, and that his admirable _lives of the english poets_ are much enriched by spence's anecdotes of pope. boswell. for the _preceptor_ see _ante_, i. , and johnson's _works_, v. . johnson, in his _life of pope (ib_. viii. ), speaks of spence as 'a man whose learning was not very great, and whose mind was not very powerful. his criticism, however, was commonly just; what he thought he thought rightly; and his remarks were recommended by his coolness and candour.' see _ante_, iv. , . [ ] 'she was the only interpreter of erse poetry that i could ever find.' johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'after a journey difficult and tedious, over rocks naked and valleys untracked, through a country of barrenness and solitude, we came, almost in the dark, to the sea-side, weary and dejected, having met with nothing but waters falling from the mountains that could raise any image of delight.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'it is natural, in traversing this gloom of desolation, to inquire, whether something may not be done to give nature a more cheerful face.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] sir william blackstone says, in his _commentaries_, that 'he cannot find that ever this custom prevailed in england;' and therefore he is of opinion that it could not have given rise to _borough-english_. boswell. 'i cannot learn that ever this custom prevailed in england, though it certainly did in scotland (under the name of _mercketa_ or _marcheta_), till abolished by malcolm iii.' _commentaries_, ed. , ii. . sir h. maine, in his _early history of institutions_, p. , writes:--'other authors, as blackstone tells us, explained it ["borough english"] by a supposed right of the seigneur or lord, now very generally regarded as apocryphal, which raised a presumption of the eldest son's illegitimacy.' [ ] 'macquarry was used to demand a sheep, for which he now takes a crown, by that inattention to the uncertain proportion between the value and the denomination of money, which has brought much disorder into europe. a sheep has always the same power of supplying human wants, but a crown will bring, at one time more, at another less'. johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'the house and the furniture are not always nicely suited. we were driven once, by missing a passage, to the hut of a gentleman, where, after a very liberal supper, when i was conducted to my chamber, i found an elegant bed of indian cotton, spread with fine sheets. the accommodation was flattering; i undressed myself, and felt my feet in the mire. the bed stood upon the bare earth, which a long course of rain had softened to a puddle.' _works_, ix. . [ ] inchkenneth is a most beautiful little islet, of the most verdant green, while all the neighbouring shore of greban, as well as the large islands of colinsay and ulva, are as black as heath and moss can make them. but ulva has a good anchorage, and inchkenneth is surrounded by shoals. it is now uninhabited. the ruins of the huts, in which dr. johnson was received by sir allan m'lean, were still to be seen, and some tatters of the paper hangings were to be seen on the walls. sir g. o. paul was at inchkenneth with the same party of which i was a member. [see lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iii. .] he seemed to suspect many of the highland tales which he heard, but he showed most incredulity on the subject of johnson's having been entertained in the wretched huts of which we saw the ruins. he took me aside, and conjured me to tell him the truth of the matter. 'this sir allan,' said he, 'was he a _regular baronet_, or was his title such a traditional one as you find in ireland?' i assured my excellent acquaintance that, 'for my own part, i would have paid more respect to a knight of kerry, or knight of glynn; yet sir allan m'lean was a _regular baronet_ by patent;' and, having giving him this information, i took the liberty of asking him, in return, whether he would not in conscience prefer the worst cell in the jail at gloucester (which he had been very active in overlooking while the building was going on) to those exposed hovels where johnson had been entertained by rank and beauty. he looked round the little islet, and allowed sir allan had some advantage in exercising ground; but in other respects he thought the compulsory tenants of gloucester had greatly the advantage. such was his opinion of a place, concerning which johnson has recorded that 'it wanted little which palaces could afford.' walter scott. [ ] 'sir allan's affairs are in disorder by the fault of his ancestors, and while he forms some scheme for retrieving them he has retreated hither.' _piozzi letters_ i. . [ ] by francis gastrell, bishop of chester, published in . [ ] _travels through different cities of germany, &c.,_, by alexander drummond. horace walpole, on april , (_letters_, ii. ), mentions 'a very foolish vulgar book of travels, lately published by one drummond, consul at aleppo.' [ ] _ physico-theology; or a demonstration of the being and attributes of god from his works of creation._ by william derham, d.d., . voltaire, in _micromégas,_ ch. i, speaking of 'l'illustre vicaire derham' says:--'malheureusement, lui et ses imitateurs se trompent souvent dans l'exposition de ces merveilles; ils s'extasient sur la sagesse qui se montre dans l'ordre d'un phénomène et on découvre que ce phénomène est tout différent de ce qu'ils ont supposé; alors c'est ce nouvel ordre qui leur paraît un chef d'oeuvre de sagesse.' [ ] this work was published in . johnson said on march , (_ante_, ii. ), 'that he believed campbell's disappointment on account of the bad success of that work had killed him.' [ ] johnson said of campbell:--'i am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years; but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat. this shows that he has good principles.' _ante_, i. . [ ] _new horse-shoeing husbandry_, by jethro tull, . [ ] 'he owned he sometimes talked for victory.' _ante_, iv. , and v. . [ ] 'they said that a great family had a _bard_ and a _senachi_, who were the poet and historian of the house; and an old gentleman told me that he remembered one of each. here was a dawn of intelligence.... another conversation informed me that the same man was both bard and senachi. this variation discouraged me.... soon after i was told by a gentleman, who is generally acknowledged the greatest master of hebridian antiquities, that there had, indeed, once been both bards and senachies; and that _senachi_ signified _the man of talk_, or of conversation; but that neither bard nor senachi had existed for some centuries.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , [ ] 'towards evening sir allan told us that sunday never passed over him like another day. one of the ladies read, and read very well, the evening service;--"and paradise was opened in the wild."' _piozzi letters_, i. . the quotation is from pope's _eloisa to abelard_, l. :-- 'you raised these hallowed walls; the desert smil'd, and paradise was open'd in the wild.' [ ] he sent these verses to boswell in . _ante_ ii. . [ ] boswell wrote to johnson on feb. , , (_ante_, ii. ):--'lord hailes bids me tell you he doubts whether-- "legitimas faciunt pectora pura preces," be according to the rubrick, but that is your concern; for you know, he is a presbyterian.' [ ] in johnson's _works_, i. , these lines are given with amendments and additions, mostly made by johnson, but some, mr. croker believes, by mr. langton. in the following copy the variations are marked in italics. insula kennethi, inter hebridas. parva quidem regio sed religione priorum _clara_ caledonias panditur inter aquas. voce ubi cennethus populos domuisse feroces dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos. huc ego delatus placido per caerula cursu, scire _locus_ volui quid daret _iste_ novi. illic leniades humili regnabat in aula, leniades, magnis nobilitatus avis. una duas _cepit_ casa cum genitore puellas, quas amor undarum _crederet_ esse deas. _nec_ tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris, accola danubii qualia saevus habet. mollia non _desunt_ vacuae solatia vitae sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram. _fulserat_ illa dies, legis _qua_ docta supernae spes hominum _et_ curas _gens_ procul esse jubet. _ut precibus justas avertat numinis iras, et summi accendat pectus amore boni._ ponti inter strepitus _non sacri_ munera cultus cessarunt, pietas hic quoque cura fuit. _nil opus est oeris sacra de turre sonantis admonitu, ipsa suas nunciat hora vices._ quid, quod sacrifici versavit foemina libros? _sint pro legitimis pura labella sacris._ quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est, hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor. mr. croker says of the third line from the end, that in a copy of these verses in johnson's own hand which he had seen, 'johnson had first written _sunt pro legitimis pectora pura sacris._ he then wrote _legitimas faciunt pura labella preces._ that line was erased, and the line as it stands in the _works_ is substituted in mr. langton's hand, as is also an alteration in the th line, _velit_ into _jubet_.' _jubet_ however is in the copy as printed by boswell. mr. langton edited some, if not all, of johnson's latin poems. (_ante_, iv. .) [ ] 'boswell, who is very pious, went into the chapel at night to perform his devotions, but came back in haste for fear of spectres.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] _ante_ p. . [ ] john gerves, or john the giant, of whom dr. johnson relates a curious story; _works_ ix. . [ ] lord chatham in the house of lords, on nov. , , speaking of 'the honest, industrious tradesman, who holds the middle rank, and has given repeated proofs that he prefers law and liberty to gold,' had said:--'i love that class of men. much less would i be thought to reflect upon the fair merchant, whose liberal commerce is the prime source of national wealth. i esteem his occupation, and respect his character.' _parl. hist._ xvi. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] he was born in nordland in sweden, in . in he and mr. banks accompanied captain cook in his first voyage round the world. he died in . knight's _eng. cyclo._ v. . miss burney wrote of him in :--'my father has very exactly named him, in calling him a philosophical gossip.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . horace walpole the same year, just after the gordon riots, wrote (_letters_, vii. ):--'who is secure against jack straw and a whirlwind? how i abominate mr. banks and dr. solander, who routed the poor otaheitans out of the centre of the ocean, and carried our abominable passions amongst them! not even that poor little speck could escape european restlessness.' see _ante_ ii. . [ ] boswell tells this story again, _ante_, ii. . mrs. piozzi's account (_anec_. p. ) is evidently so inaccurate that it does not deserve attention; she herself admits that beauclerk was truthful. in a marginal note on wraxall's _memoirs_, she says:--'topham beauclerk (wicked and profligate as he wished to be accounted), was yet a man of very strict veracity. oh lord! how i did hate that horrid beauclerk!' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . johnson testified to 'the correctness of beauclerk's memory and the fidelity of his narrative.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'mr. maclean of col, having a very numerous family, has for some time past resided at aberdeen, that he may superintend their education, and leaves the young gentleman, our friend, to govern his dominions with the full power of a highland chief.' _johnson's works_, ix. . [ ] this is not spoken of hare-coursing, where the game is taken or lost before the dog gets out of wind; but in chasing deer with the great highland greyhound, col's exploit is feasible enough. walter scott. [ ] see _ante_, pp. , iii, for monboddo's notion. [ ] mme. riccoboni in wrote to garrick of the french:--'un mensonge grossier les révolte. si on voulait leur persuader que les anglais vivent de grenouilles, meurent de faim, que leurs femmes sont barbouillées, et jurent par toutes les lettres de l'alphabet, ils leveraient les épaules, et s'écriraient, _quel sot ose écrire ces misères-là?_ mais à londres, diantre cela prend!' _garrick corres_. ii. . [ ] just opposite to m'quarrie's house the boat was swamped by the intoxication of the sailors, who had partaken too largely of m'quarrie's wonted hospitality. walter scott. johnson wrote from lichfield on june , ;--'there is great lamentation here for the death of col. lucy [miss porter] is of opinion that he was wonderfully handsome.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see ante, ii. . [ ] iona. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, . . [ ] sir james mackintosh says (_life_, ii. ):--'dr. johnson visited iona without looking at staffa, which lay in sight, with that indifference to natural objects, either of taste or scientific curiosity, which characterised him.' this is a fair enough sample of much of the criticism under which johnson's reputation has suffered. [ ] smollett in _humphry clinker_ (letter of sept. ) describes a highland funeral. 'our entertainer seemed to think it a disparagement to his family that not above a hundred gallons of whisky had been drunk upon such a solemn occasion. [ ] 'we then entered the boat again; the night came upon us; the wind rose; the sea swelled; and boswell desired to be set on dry ground: we, however, pursued our navigation, and passed by several little islands in the silent solemnity of faint moon-shine, seeing little, and hearing only the wind and water.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] cicero _de finibus_, ii. . [ ] i have lately observed that this thought has been elegantly expressed by cowley:-- 'things which offend when present, and affright, in memory, well painted, move delight.' boswell. the lines are found in the _ode upon his majesty's restoration and return_, stanza . they may have been suggested by virgil's lines-- 'revocate animos, maestumque timorem mittite; forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit.' aeneid, i. . [ ] had our tour produced nothing else but this sublime passage, the world must have acknowledged that it was not made in vain. the present respectable president of the royal society was so much struck on reading it, that he clasped his hands together, and remained for some time in an attitude of silent admiration, boswell. boswell again quotes this passage (which is found in johnson's _works_, ix. ), _ante_, iii. . the president was sir joseph banks, johnson says in _rasselas_, ch. xi:--'that the supreme being may be more easily propitiated in one place than in another is the dream of idle superstition; but that some places may operate upon our own minds in an uncommon manner is an opinion which hourly experience will justify. he who supposes that his vices may be more successfully combated in palestine will, perhaps, find himself mistaken, yet he may go thither without folly; he who thinks they will be more freely pardoned dishonours at once his reason and religion.' [ ] 'sir allan went to the headman of the island, whom fame, but fame delights in amplifying, represents as worth no less than fifty pounds. he was, perhaps, proud enough of his guests, but ill prepared for our entertainment; however he soon produced more provision than men not luxurious require.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] _an account of the isle of man. with a voyage to i-columb-kill_. by w. sacheverell, esq., late governour of man. . [ ] 'he that surveys it [the church-yard] attended by an insular antiquary may be told where the kings of many nations are buried, and if he loves to soothe his imagination with the thoughts that naturally rise in places where the great and the powerful lie mingled with the dust, let him listen in submissive silence; for if he asks any questions his delight is at an end.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] on quitting the island johnson wrote: 'we now left those illustrious ruins, by which mr. boswell was much affected, nor would i willingly be thought to have looked upon them without some emotion.' _ib_. p. . [ ] psalm xc. . [ ] boswell wrote on nov. , :--'i am always for fixing some period for my perfection as far as possible. let it be when my account of corsica is published; i shall then have a character which i must support.' _letters of boswell_, p. . five weeks later he wrote:--'i have been as wild as ever;' and then comes a passage which the editor has thought it needful to suppress. _ib_.p. . [ ] boswell here speaks as an englishman. he should have written '_a_ m'ginnis.' see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] 'the fruitfulness of iona is now its whole prosperity. the inhabitants are remarkably gross, and remarkably neglected; i know not if they are visited by any minister. the island, which was once the metropolis of learning and piety, has now no school for education, nor temple for worship, only two inhabitants that can speak english, and not one that can write or read.' johnson's _works_, ix. . scott, who visited it in , writes:--'there are many monuments of singular curiosity, forming a strange contrast to the squalid and dejected poverty of the present inhabitants.' lockhart's _scott_, ed. , iii. . in , on a second visit, he writes:--'iona, the last time i saw it, seemed to me to contain the most wretched people i had anywhere seen. but either they have got better since i was here, or my eyes, familiarized with the wretchedness of zetland and the harris, are less shocked with that of iona.' he found a schoolmaster there. _ib_. iv. . [ ] johnson's jacobite friend, dr. king (_ante_, i. ), says of pulteney, on his being made earl of bath:--'he deserted the cause of his country; he betrayed his friends and adherents; he ruined his character, and from a most glorious eminence sunk down to a degree of contempt. the first time sir robert (who was now earl of orford) met him in the house of lords, he threw out this reproach:--"my lord bath, you and i are now two as insignificant men as any in england." in which he spoke the truth of my lord bath, but not of himself. for my lord orford was consulted by the ministers to the last day of his life.' king's _anec_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] 'sir robert walpole detested war. this made dr. johnson say of him, "he was the best minister this country ever had, as, if _we_ would have let him (he speaks of his own violent faction), he would have kept the country in perpetual peace."' seward's _biographiana_, p. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. appendix c. [ ] i think it incumbent on me to make some observation on this strong satirical sally on my classical companion, mr. wilkes. reporting it lately from memory, in his presence, i expressed it thus:--'they knew he would rob their shops, _if he durst;_ they knew he would debauch their daughters, _if he could;_' which, according to the french phrase, may be said _renchérir_ on dr. johnson; but on looking into my journal, i found it as above, and would by no means make any addition. mr. wilkes received both readings with a good humour that i cannot enough admire. indeed both he and i (as, with respect to myself, the reader has more than once had occasion to observe in the course of this journal,) are too fond of a _bon mot_, not to relish it, though we should be ourselves the object of it. let me add, in justice to the gentleman here mentioned, that at a subsequent period, he _was_ elected chief magistrate of london [in ], and discharged the duties of that high office with great honour to himself, and advantage to the city. some years before dr. johnson died, i was fortunate enough to bring him and mr. wilkes together; the consequence of which was, that they were ever afterwards on easy and not unfriendly terms. the particulars i shall have great pleasure in relating at large in my _life of dr. johnson_. boswell. in the copy of boswell's _letter to the people of scotland_ in the british museum is entered in boswell's own hand-- 'comes jucundus in via pro vehiculo est. to john wilkes, esq.: as pleasant a companion as ever lived. from the author. --will my wilkes retreat, and see, once seen before, that ancient seat, etc.' see _ante_, iii. , ; iv. , , note . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] our afternoon journey was through a country of such gloomy desolation that mr. boswell thought no part of the highlands equally terrifick.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] johnson describes lochbuy as 'a true highland laird, rough and haughty, and tenacious of his dignity: who, hearing my name, inquired whether i was of the johnstons of glencoe (_sic_) or of ardnamurchan.' _ib_. [ ] boswell totally misapprehended _lochbuy's_ meaning. there are two septs of the powerful clan of m'donaid, who are called mac-ian, that is _john's-son_; and as highlanders often translate their names when they go to the lowlands,--as gregor-son for mac-gregor, farquhar-son for mac-farquhar,--_lochbuy_ supposed that dr. johnson might be one of the mac-ians of ardnamurchan, or of glencro. boswell's explanation was nothing to the purpose. the _johnstons_ are a clan distinguished in scottish _border_ history, and as brave as any _highland_ clan that ever wore brogues; but they lay entirely out of _lochbuy's_ knowledge--nor was he thinking of _them_. walter scott. [ ] this maxim, however, has been controverted. see blackstone's _commentaries_, vol. ii. p. ; and the authorities there quoted. boswell. 'blackstone says:--from these loose authorities, which fitzherbert does not hesitate to reject as being contrary to reason, the maxim that a man shall not stultify himself hath been handed down as settled law; though later opinions, feeling the inconvenience of the rule, have in many points endeavoured to restrain it.' _ib_. p. . [ ] begging pardon of the doctor and his conductor, i have often seen and partaken of cold sheep's head at as good breakfast-tables as ever they sat at. this protest is something in the manner of the late culrossie, who fought a duel for the honour of aberdeen butter. i have passed over all the doctor's other reproaches upon scotland, but the sheep's head i will defend _totis viribus_. dr. johnson himself must have forgiven my zeal on this occasion; for if, as he says, _dinner_ be the thing of which a man thinks _oftenest during the day, breakfast_ must be that of which he thinks _first in the morning_. walter scott. i do not know where johnson says this. perhaps scott was thinking of a passage in mrs. piozzi's _anec_. p. , where she writes that he said: 'a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of any thing than he does of his dinner.' [ ] a horrible place it was. johnson describes it (_works_, ix. ) as 'a deep subterraneous cavity, walled on the sides, and arched on the top, into which the descent is through a narrow door, by a ladder or a rope.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] sir allan m'lean, like many highland chiefs, was embarrassed in his private affairs, and exposed to unpleasant solicitations from attorneys, called, in scotland, _writers_ (which indeed was the chief motive of his retiring to inchkenneth). upon one occasion he made a visit to a friend, then residing at carron lodge, on the banks of the carron, where the banks of that river are studded with pretty villas: sir allan, admiring the landscape, asked his friend, whom that handsome seat belonged to. 'm---, the writer to the signet,' was the reply. 'umph!' said sir allan, but not with an accent of assent, 'i mean that other house.' 'oh ! that belongs to a very honest fellow jamie---, also a writer to the signet.' 'umph!' said the highland chief of m'lean with more emphasis than before, 'and yon smaller house?' 'that belongs to a stirling man; i forget his name, but i am sure he is a writer too; for---.' sir allan who had recoiled a quarter of a circle backward at every response, now wheeled the circle entire and turned his back on the landscape, saying, 'my good friend, i must own you have a pretty situation here; but d--n your neighbourhood.' walter scott. [ ] loch awe. [ ] 'pope's talent lay remarkably in what one may naturally enough term the condensation of thoughts. i think no other english poet ever brought so much sense into the same number of lines with equal smoothness, ease, and poetical beauty. let him who doubts of this peruse his _essay on man_ with attention.' shenstone's _essays on men and manners. [works_, th edit. ii. .] 'he [gray] approved an observation of shenstone, that "pope had the art of condensing a thought."' nicholls' _reminiscences of gray_, p. . and swift [in his _lines on the death of dr. swift_], himself a great condenser, says-- 'in pope i cannot read a line but with a sigh i wish it mine; when he can in one couplet fix more sense than i can do in six.' p. cunningham. [ ] he is described by walpole in his _letters_, viii. . [ ] 'the night came on while we had yet a great part of the way to go, though not so dark but that we could discern the cataracts which poured down the hills on one side, and fell into one general channel, that ran with great violence on the other. the wind was loud, the rain was heavy, and the whistling of the blast, the fall of the shower, the rush of the cataracts, and the roar of the torrent, made a nobler chorus of the rough musick of nature than it had ever been my chance to hear before.' johnson's _works_, ix. . he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'all the rougher powers of nature except thunder were in motion, but there was no danger. i should have been sorry to have missed any of the inconveniencies, to have had more light or less rain, for their co-operation crowded the scene and filled the mind.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] i never tasted whiskey except once for experiment at the inn in inverary, when i thought it preferable to any english malt brandy. it was strong, but not pungent, and was free from the empyreumatick taste or smell. what was the process i had no opportunity of inquiring, nor do i wish to improve the art of making poison pleasant.' johnson's _works_, ix. . smollett, medical man though he was, looked upon whisky as anything but poison. 'i am told that it is given with great success to infants, as a cordial in the confluent small-pox.' _humphry clinker_. letter of sept. . [ ] _regale_ in this sense is not in johnson's _dictionary_. it was, however, a favourite word at this time. thus, mrs. piozzi, in her _journey through france_, ii. , says:--'a large dish of hot chocolate thickened with bread and cream is a common afternoon's regale here.' miss burney often uses the word. [ ] boswell, in answering garrick's letter seven months later, improved on this comparison. 'it was,' he writes, 'a pine-apple of the finest flavour, which had a high zest indeed among the heath-covered mountains of scotia.' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'though birnam wood be come to dunsinane.' _macbeth_, act v. sc. . [ ] 'from his first entrance to the closing scene let him one equal character maintain.' francis. horace, _ars poet._ l. . [ ] i took the liberty of giving this familiar appellation to my celebrated friend, to bring in a more lively manner to his remembrance the period when he was dr. johnson's pupil. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell is here quoting the preface to the third edition of his _corsica_:--'whatever clouds may overcast my days, i can now walk here among the rocks and woods of my ancestors, with an agreeable consciousness that i have done something worthy.' [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, nov. . [ ] i have suppressed my friend's name from an apprehension of wounding his sensibility; but i would not withhold from my readers a passage which shews mr. garrick's mode of writing as the manager of a theatre, and contains a pleasing trait of his domestick life. his judgment of dramatick pieces, so far as concerns their exhibition on the stage, must be allowed to have considerable weight. but from the effect which a perusal of the tragedy here condemned had upon myself, and from the opinions of some eminent criticks, i venture to pronounce that it has much poetical merit; and its authour has distinguished himself by several performances which shew that the epithet _poetaster_ was, in the present instance, much misapplied. boswell. johnson mentioned this quarrel between garrick and the poet on march , (_piozzi letters_, i. ). 'm---- is preparing a whole pamphlet against g----, and g---- is, i suppose, collecting materials to confute m----.' m---- was mickle, the translator of the _lusiad_ and author of the _ballad of cumnor hall_ (_ante_, ii. ). had it not been for this 'poetaster,' _kenilworth_ might never have been written. scott, in the preface, tells how 'the first stanza of _cunmor hall_ had a peculiar species of enchantment for his youthful ear, the force of which is not even now entirely spent.' the play that was refused was the _siege of marseilles_. ever since the success of hughes's _siege of damascus_ 'a siege had become a popular title' (_ante_, iii. , note ). [ ] she could only have been away for the day; for in garrick wrote:--'as i have not left mrs. garrick one day since we were married, near twenty-eight years, i cannot now leave her.' _garrick corres_. ii. . [ ] dr. morell once entered the school-room at winchester college, 'in which some junior boys were writing their exercises, one of whom, struck no less with his air and manner than with the questions he put to them, whispered to his school-fellows, "is he not a fine old grecian?" the doctor, overhearing this, turned hastily round and exclaimed, "i am indeed an old grecian, my little man. did you never see my head before my thesaurus?"' the praepostors, learning the dignity of their visitor, in a most respectful manner showed him the college. wooll's _life of dr. warton_, p. . mason writing to horace walpole about some odes, says:--'they are so lopped and mangled, that they are worse now than the productions of handel's poet, dr. morell.' walpole's _letters_, v. . morell compiled the words for handel's _oratorios_. [ ] _ante_, i. . [ ] i doubt whether any other instance can be found of _love_ being sent to johnson. [ ] the passage begins:--'a _servant_ or two from a revering distance cast many a wishful look, and condole their honoured master in the language of sighs.' hervey's _meditations_, ed. , i. . [ ] _ib_. ii. . [ ] the _meditation_ was perhaps partly suggested by swift's _meditation upon a broomstick_. swift's _works_ ( ), iii. . [ ] thomas burnet of the charterhouse, in his _sacred theory of the earth_, ed. , i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] elizabeth gunning, celebrated (like her sister, lady coventry) for her personal charms, had been previously duchess of hamilton, and was mother of douglas, duke of hamilton, the competitor for the douglas property with the late lord douglas: she was, of course, prejudiced against boswell, who had shewn all the bustling importance of his character in the douglas cause, and it was said, i know not on what authority, that he headed the mob which broke the windows of some of the judges, and of lord auchinleck, his father, in particular. walter scott. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] she married the earl of derby, and was the great-grandmother of the present earl. burke's _peerage_. [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] lord macaulay's grandfather, trevelyan's _macaulay_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] on reflection, at the distance of several years, i wonder that my venerable fellow-traveller should have read this passage without censuring my levity. boswell. [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] as this book is now become very scarce, i shall subjoin the title, which is curious:--the doctrines of a middle state between death and the resurrection: of prayers for the dead: and the necessity of purification; plainly proved from the holy scriptures, and the writings of the fathers of the primitive church: and acknowledged by several learned fathers and great divines of the church of england and others since the reformation. to which is added, an appendix concerning the descent of the soul of christ into hell, while his body lay in the grave. together with the judgment of the reverend dr. hickes concerning this book, so far as relates to a middle state, particular judgment, and prayers for the dead as it appeared in the first edition. 'and a manuscript of the right reverend bishop overall upon the subject of a middle state, and never before printed. also, a preservative against several of the errors of the roman church, in six small treatises. by the honourable archibald campbell. folio, . boswell. [ ] the release gained for him by lord townshend must have been from his last imprisonment after the accession of george i; for, as mr. croker points out, townshend was not secretary of state till . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] he was the grandson of the first marquis, who was beheaded by charles ii in , and nephew of the ninth earl, who was beheaded by james ii in . burke's _peerage_. he died on june , , according to the _gent. mag._ xiv. ; where he is described as 'the consecrated archbishop of st. andrews.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] george hickes, - . a non-juror, consecrated in suffragan bishop of thetford by three of the deprived non-juror bishops. chalmers's _biog. dict._ xvii. . burnet (_hist. of his own time_, iv. ) describes him as 'an ill-tempered man, who was now [ ] at the head of the jacobite party, and who had in several books promoted a notion, that there was a proper sacrifice made in the eucharist.' boswell mentions him, _ante_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] this must be a mistake for _he died_. [ ] 'it is generally supposed that life is longer in places where there are few opportunities of luxury; but i found no instance here of extraordinary longevity. a cottager grows old over his oaten cakes like a citizen at a turtle feast. he is, indeed, seldom incommoded by corpulence, poverty preserves him from sinking under the burden of himself, but he escapes no other injury of time.' johnson's works, ix. . [ ] lady lucy graham, daughter of the second duke of montrose, and wife of mr. douglas, the successful claimant: she died in , whence boswell calls her '_poor_ lady lucy.' croker [ ] her first husband was the sixth duke of hamilton and brandon. on his death she refused the duke of bridgewater. she was the mother of four dukes--two of hamilton and two of argyle. her sister married the earl of coventry. walpole's _letters_, ii. , note. walpole, writing on oct. , , says that their story was amazing. 'the two beautiful sisters were going on the stage, when they were at once exalted almost as high as they could be, were countessed and double-duchessed.' _ib_. ix. . their maiden name was gunning. the duchess of argyle was alive when boswell published his _journal_. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , and v. . it was lord macaulay's grandfather who was thus reprimanded. mr. trevelyan remarks (_life of macaulay_, i. ), 'when we think what well-known ground this [subject] was to lord macaulay, it is impossible to suppress a wish that the great talker had been at hand to avenge his grandfather.' the result might well have been, however, that the great talker would have been reduced to silence--one of those brilliant flashes of silence for which sydney smith longed, but longed in vain. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , for his use of 'o brave!' [ ] having mentioned, more than once, that my _journal_ was perused by dr. johnson, i think it proper to inform my readers that this is the last paragraph which he read. boswell. he began to read it on august (_ante_, p. , note ). [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] act i. sc. . the best known passage in _douglas_ is the speech beginning 'my name is norval.' act ii. the play affords a few quotations more or less known, as:-- 'i found myself as women wish to be who love their lords.' act i. 'he seldom errs who thinks the worse he can of womankind.' act iii. 'honour, sole judge and umpire of itself.' act iv. 'unknown i die; no tongue shall speak of me. some noble spirits, judging by themselves, may yet conjecture what i might have proved, and think life only wanting to my fame.' act v. 'an honest guardian, arbitrator just be thou; thy station deem a sacred trust. with thy good sword maintain thy country's cause; in every action venerate its laws: the lie suborn'd if falsely urg'd to swear, though torture wait thee, torture firmly bear; to forfeit honour, think the highest shame, and life too dearly bought by loss of fame; nor to preserve it, with thy virtue give that for which only man should wish to live.' [_satires_, viii. .] for this and the other translations to which no signature is affixed, i am indebted to the friend whose observations are mentioned in the notes, pp. and . boswell. sir walter scott says, 'probably dr. hugh blair.' i have little doubt that it was malone. 'one of the best criticks of our age,' boswell calls this friend in the other two passages. this was a compliment boswell was likely to pay to malone, to whom he dedicated this book. malone was a versifier. see prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] i am sorry that i was unlucky in my quotation. but notwithstanding the acuteness of dr. johnson's criticism, and the power of his ridicule, _the tragedy of douglas_ sill continues to be generally and deservedly admired. boswell. johnson's scorn was no doubt returned, for dr. a. carlyle (_auto._ p. ) says of home:--'as john all his life had a thorough contempt for such as neglected his poetry, he treated all who approved of his works with a partiality which more than approached to flattery.' carlyle tells (pp. - ) how home started for london with his tragedy in one pocket of his great coat and his clean shirt and night-cap in the other, escorted on setting out by six or seven merse ministers. 'garrick, after reading his play, returned it as totally unfit for the stage.' it was brought out first in edinburgh, and in the year in covent garden, where it had great success. 'this tragedy,' wrote carlyle forty-five years later, 'still maintains its ground, has been more frequently acted, and is more popular than any tragedy in the english language.' _ib._ p. . hannah more recorded in (_memoirs_, ii. ), 'i had a quarrel with lord monboddo one night lately. he said _douglas_ was a better play than shakespeare could have written. he was angry and i was pert. lord mulgrave sat spiriting me up, but kept out of the scrape himself, and lord stormont seemed to enjoy the debate, but was shabby enough not to help me out.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] as a remarkable instance of his negligence, i remember some years ago to have found lying loose in his study, and without the cover, which contained the address, a letter to him from lord thurlow, to whom he had made an application as chancellor, in behalf of a poor literary friend. it was expressed in such terms of respect for dr. johnson, that, in my zeal for his reputation, i remonstrated warmly with him on his strange inattention, and obtained his permission to take a copy of it; by which probably it has been preserved, as the original i have reason to suppose is lost. boswell. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'the islets, which court the gazer at a distance, disgust him at his approach, when he finds, instead of soft lawns and shady thickets, nothing more than uncultivated ruggedness.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iv. . [ ] in these arguments he says:--'reason and truth will prevail at last. the most learned of the scottish doctors would now gladly admit a form of prayer, if the people would endure it. the zeal or rage of congregations has its different degrees. in some parishes the lord's prayer is suffered: in others it is still rejected as a form; and he that should make it part of his supplication would be suspected of heretical pravity.' johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'a very little above the source of the leven, on the lake, stands the house of cameron, belonging to mr. smollett, so embosomed in an oak wood that we did not see it till we were within fifty yards of the door.' _humphry clinker_, letter of aug. . [ ] boswell himself was at times one of 'those absurd visionaries.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] lord kames wrote one, which is published in chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, ed. , i. . in it he bids the traveller to 'indulge the hope of a monumental pillar.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. ; and v. . [ ] this address does not offend against the rule that johnson lays down in his _essay on epitaphs_ (_works_, v. ), where he says:--'it is improper to address the epitaph to the passenger.' the impropriety consists in such an address in a church. he however did break through his rule in his epitaph in streatham church on mr. thrale, where he says:--'abi viator.' _ib._ i. . [ ] in _humphry clinker_ (letter of aug. ), which was published a few months before smollett's death, is his _ode on leven-water_. [ ] the epitaph which has been inscribed on the pillar erected on the banks of the leven, in honour of dr. smollett, is as follows. the part which was written by dr. johnson, it appears, has been altered; whether for the better, the reader will judge. the alterations are distinguished by italicks. siste viator! si lepores ingeniique venam benignam, si morum callidissimum pictorem, unquam es miratus, immorare paululum memoriae tobiae smollet, m.d. viri virtutibus _hisce_ quas in homine et cive et laudes et imiteris, haud mediocriter ornati: qui in literis variis versatus, postquam felicitate _sibi propria_ sese posteris commendaverat, morte acerba raptus anno aetatis , eheu: quam procul a patria! prope liburni portum in italia, jacet sepultres. tali tantoque viro, patrueli suo, cui in decursu lampada se potius tradidisse decuit, hanc columnam, amoris, eheu! inane monumentum in ipsis leviniae ripis, quas _versiculis sub exitu vitae illustratas_ primis infans vagitibus personuit, ponendam curavit jacobus smollet de bonhill. abi et reminiscere, hoc quidem honore, non modo defuncti memoriae, verum etiam exemplo, prospectum esse; aliis enim, si modo digni sint, idem erit virtutis praemium! boswell. [ ] baretti told malone that, having proposed to teach johnson italian, they went over a few stanzas of ariosto, and johnson then grew weary. 'some years afterwards baretti said he would give him another lesson, but added, "i suppose you have forgotten what we read before." "who forgets, sir?" said johnson, and immediately repeated three or four stanzas of the poem.' baretti took down the book to see if it had been lately opened, but the leaves were covered with dust. prior's _malone_, p. . johnson had learnt to translate italian before he knew baretti. _ante_, i. , . for other instances of his memory, see _ante_, i. , ; iii. , note ; and iv. , note . [ ] for sixty-eight days he received no letter--from august (_ante_, p. ) to october . [ ] among these professors might possibly have been either burke or hume had not a mr. clow been the successful competitor in as the successor to adam smith in the chair of logic. 'mr. clow has acquired a curious title to fame, from the greatness of the man to whom he succeeded, and of those over whom he was triumphant.' j.h. burton's _hume_, i. . [ ] dr. reid, the author of the _inquiry into the human mind_, had in succeeded adam smith as professor of moral philosophy. dugald stewart was his pupil the winter before johnson's visit. stewart's _reid_, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] mr. boswell has chosen to omit, for reasons which will be presently obvious, that johnson and adam smith met at glasgow; but i have been assured by professor john miller that they did so, and that smith, leaving the party in which he had met johnson, happened to come to another company _where miller was_. knowing that smith had been in johnson's society, they were anxious to know what had passed, and the more so as dr. smith's temper seemed much ruffled. at first smith would only answer, 'he's a brute--he's a brute;' but on closer examination, it appeared that johnson no sooner saw smith than he attacked him for some point of his famous letter on the death of hume (_ante_, p. ). smith vindicated the truth of his statement. 'what did johnson say?' was the universal inquiry. 'why, he said,' replied smith, with the deepest impression of resentment, 'he said, _you lie!_' 'and what did you reply?' 'i said, you are a son of a------!' on such terms did these two great moralists meet and part, and such was the classical dialogue between two great teachers of philosophy. walter scott. this story is erroneous in the particulars of the _time, place,_ and _subject_ of the alleged quarrel; for hume did not die for [nearly] three years after johnson's only visit to glasgow; nor was smith then there. johnson, previous to (see _ante_, i. , and iii. ), had an altercation with adam smith at mr. strahan's table. this may have been the foundation of professor miller's misrepresentation. but, even _then_, nothing of this offensive kind could have passed, as, if it had, smith could certainly not have afterwards solicited admission to the club of which johnson was the leader, to which he was admitted st dec. , and where he and johnson met frequently on civil terms. i, therefore, disbelieve the whole story. croker. [ ] 'his appearance,' says dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ), 'was that of an ascetic, reduced by fasting and prayer.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] see _ante,_ p. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'i was not much pleased with any of the professors.' _piozzi letters,_ i. . mme. d'arblay says:-- 'whenever dr. johnson did not make the charm of conversation he only marred it by his presence, from the general fear he incited, that if he spoke not, he might listen; and that if he listened, he might reprove.' _memoirs of dr. burney,_ ii. . see _ante_, ii. [ ] boswell has not let us see this caution. when robertson first came in, 'there began,' we are told, 'some animated dialogue' (_ante,_ p. ). the next day we read that 'he fluently harangued to dr. johnson' (_ante,_ p. ). [ ] see _ante,_ iii. . [ ] he was ambassador at paris in the beginning of the reign of george i., and commander-in-chief in . lord mahon's _england_, ed. , i. and iii. . [ ] the unwilling gratitude of base mankind. pope. [_imitations of horace_, _epis_. i. .] boswell. [ ] dr. franklin (_memoirs_, i. - ) gives a curious account of lord loudoun, who was general in america about the year . 'indecision,' he says, 'was one of the strongest features of his character.' he kept back the packet-boats from day to day because he could not make up his mind to send his despatches. at one time there were three boats waiting, one of which was kept with cargo and passengers on board three months beyond its time. pitt at length recalled him, because 'he never heard from him, and could not know what he was doing.' [ ] see chalmers's _biog. dict._ xi. for an account of a controversy about the identity of this writer with an historian of the same name. [ ] he had paid but little attention to his own rule. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'i believe that for all the castles which i have seen beyond the tweed, the ruins yet remaining of some one of those which the english built in wales would supply materials.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] johnson described her as 'a lady who for many years gave the laws of elegance to scotland.' _piozzi letters_, i. . allan ramsay dedicated to her his _gentle shepherd_, and w. hamilton, of bangour, wrote to her verses on the presentation of ramsay's poem. hamilton's _poems_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'she called boswell the boy: "yes, madam," said i, "we will send him to school." "he is already," said she, "in a good school;" and expressed her hope of his improvement. at last night came, and i was sorry to leave her.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, pp. , . [ ] burns, who was in his fifteenth year, was at this time living at ayr, about twelve miles away. when later on he moved to mauchline, he and boswell became much nearer neighbours. [ ] he had, however, married again. _ante_, ii. , note i. it is curious that boswell in this narrative does not mention his step-mother. [ ] 'asper incolumi gravitate jocum tentavit.' 'though rude his mirth, yet laboured to maintain the solemn grandeur of the tragic scene.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. l. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and v. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , . [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) says of addison's dedication of the opera of _rosamond_ to the duchess of marlborough, that 'it was an instance of servile absurdity, to be exceeded only by joshua barnes's dedication of a greek _anacreon_ to the duke.' for barnes see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [ ] william baxter, the editor of _anacreon_, was the nephew of richard baxter, the nonconformist divine. [ ] he says of auchinleck (_works_, ix. ) that 'like all the western side of scotland, it is _incommoded_ by very frequent rain.' 'in all september we had, according to boswell's register, only one day and a half of fair weather; and in october perhaps not more.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'by-the-bye,' wrote sir walter scott, 'i am far from being of the number of those angry scotsmen who imputed to johnson's national prejudices all or a great part of the report he has given of our country in his _voyage to the hebrides_. i remember the highlands ten or twelve years later, and no one can conceive of 'how much that could have been easily remedied travellers had to complain.' _croker corres_. ii. [ ] 'of these islands it must be confessed, that they have not many allurements but to the mere lover of naked nature. the inhabitants are thin, provisions are scarce, and desolation and penury give little pleasure.' johnson's _works_, ix. . in an earlier passage (p. ), in describing a rough ride in mull, he says:--'we were now long enough acquainted with hills and heath to have lost the emotion that they once raised, whether pleasing or painful, and had our minds employed only on our own fatigue.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in like manner wesley said of rousseau:--'sure a more consummate coxcomb never saw the sun.... he is a cynic all over. so indeed is his brother-infidel, voltaire; and well-nigh as great a coxcomb.' wesley's _journal,_, ed. , iii. . [ ] this gentleman, though devoted to the study of grammar and dialecticks, was not so absorbed in it as to be without a sense of pleasantry, or to be offended at his favourite topicks being treated lightly. i one day met him in the street, as i was hastening to the house of lords, and told him, i was sorry i could not stop, being rather too late to attend an appeal of the duke of hamilton against douglas. 'i thought (said he) their contest had been over long ago.' i answered, 'the contest concerning douglas's filiation was over long ago; but the contest now is, who shall have the estate.' then, assuming the air of 'an ancient sage philosopher,' i proceeded thus: 'were i to _predicate_ concerning him, i should say, the contest formerly was, what _is_ he? the contest now is, what _has_ he?'--'right, (replied mr. harris, smiling,) you have done with _quality_, and have got into _quantity_.' boswell. [ ] most likely sir a. macdonald. _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell wrote on march , :--'mr. johnson, when enumerating our club, observed of some of us, that they talked from books,--langton in particular. "garrick," he said, "would talk from books, if he talked seriously." "_i_," said he, "do not talk from books; _you_ do not talk from books." this was a compliment to my originality; but i am afraid i have not read books enough to be able to talk from them.' _letters of boswell_, p. . see _ante_, ii. , where johnson said to boswell:-- 'i don't believe you have borrowed from waller. i wish you would enable yourself to borrow more;' and i. , where he described 'a man of a great deal of knowledge of the world, fresh from life, not strained through books.' [ ] 'lord auchinleck has built a house of hewn stone, very stately and durable, and has advanced the value of his lands with great tenderness to his tenants. i was, however, less delighted with the elegance of the modern mansion, than with the sullen dignity of the old castle.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'the house is scarcely yet finished, but very magnificent and very convenient.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and v. . [ ] the relation, it should seem, was remote even for scotland. their common ancestor was robert bruce, some sixteen generations back. boswell's mother's grandmother was a bruce of the earl of kincardine's family, and so also was his father's mother. rogers's _boswelliana_, pp. , . [ ] he refers to johnson's pension, which was given nearly two years after george ill's accession. _ante_, i. . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] he repeated this advice in . _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'of their black cattle some are without horns, called by the scots _humble_ cows, as we call a bee, an _humble_ bee, that wants a sting. whether this difference be specifick, or accidental, though we inquired with great diligence, we could not be informed.' johnson's _works_, ix. . johnson, in his _dictionary_, gives the right derivation of humble-bee, from _hum_ and _bee_. the word _humble-cow_ is found in _guy mannering_, ed. , iii. :--'"of a surety," said sampson, "i deemed i heard his horse's feet." "that," said john, with a broad grin, "was grizzel chasing the humble-cow out of the close."' [ ] 'even the cattle have not their usual beauty or noble head.' church and brodribb's _tacitus_. [ ] 'the peace you seek is here--where is it not? if your own mind be equal to its lot.' croker. horace, i _epistles_, xi. . [ ] horace, i _epistles_, xviii. . [ ] this and the next paragraph are not in the first edition. the paragraph that follows has been altered so as to hide the fact that the minister spoken of was mr. dun. originally it stood:--'mr. dun, though a man of sincere good principles as a presbyterian divine, discovered,' &c. first edition, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] old lord auchinleck was an able lawyer, a good scholar, after the manner of scotland, and highly valued his own advantages as a man of good estate and ancient family; and, moreover, he was a strict presbyterian and whig of the old scottish cast. this did not prevent his being a terribly proud aristocrat; and great was the contempt he entertained and expressed for his son james, for the nature of his friendships and the character of the personages of whom he was _engoué_ one after another. 'there's nae hope for jamie, mon,' he said to a friend. 'jamie is gaen clean gyte. what do you think, mon? he's done wi' paoli--he's off wi' the land-louping scoundrel of a corsican; and whose tail do you think he has pinned himself to now, mon?' here the old judge summoned up a sneer of most sovereign contempt. 'a _dominie_, mon--an auld dominie: he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy.' probably if this had been reported to johnson, he would have felt it more galling, for he never much liked to think of that period of his life [_ante_, i. , note ]; it would have aggravated his dislike of lord auchinleck's whiggery and presbyterianism. these the old lord carried to such a height, that once, when a countryman came in to state some justice business, and being required to make his oath, declined to do so before his lordship, because he was not a _covenanted_ magistrate. 'is that a'your objection, mon?' said the judge; 'come your ways in here, and we'll baith of us tak the solemn league and covenant together.' the oath was accordingly agreed and sworn to by both, and i dare say it was the last time it ever received such homage. it may be surmised how far lord auchinleck, such as he is here described, was likely to suit a high tory and episcopalian like johnson. as they approached auchinleck, boswell conjured johnson by all the ties of regard, and in requital of the services he had rendered him upon his tour, that he would spare two subjects in tenderness to his father's prejudices; the first related to sir john pringle, president of the royal society, about whom there was then some dispute current: the second concerned the general question of whig and tory. sir john pringle, as boswell says, escaped, but the controversy between tory and covenanter raged with great fury, and ended in johnson's pressing upon the old judge the question, what good cromwell, of whom he had said something derogatory, had ever done to his country; when, after being much tortured, lord auchinleck at last spoke out, 'god, doctor! he gart kings ken that they had a _lith_ in their neck'--he taught kings they had a _joint_ in their necks. jamie then set to mediating between his father and the philosopher, and availing himself of the judge's sense of hospitality, which was punctilious, reduced the debate to more order. walter scott. paoli had visited auchinleck. boswell wrote to garrick on sept. , :--'i have just been enjoying the very great happiness of a visit from my illustrious friend, pascal paoli. he was two nights at auchinleck, and you may figure the joy of my worthy father and me at seeing the corsican hero in our romantic groves.' _garrick corres_. i. . johnson was not blind to cromwell's greatness, for he says (_works_, vii. ), that 'he wanted nothing to raise him to heroick excellence but virtue.' lord auchinleck's famous saying had been anticipated by quin, who, according to davies (_life of garrick_, ii. ), had said that 'on a thirtieth of january every king in europe would rise with a crick in his neck.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] james durham, born , died , wrote many theological works. chalmers's _biog. dict_. in the _brit. mus. cata_. i can find no work by him on the _galatians_; lord auchinleck's triumph therefore was, it seems, more artful than honest. [ ] gray, it should seem, had given the name earlier. his friend bonstetten says that about the year he was walking with him, when gray 'exclaimed with some bitterness, "look, look, bonstetten! the great bear! there goes _ursa major_!" this was johnson. gray could not abide him.' sir egerton brydges, quoted in gosse's _gray_, iii. . for the epithet _bear_ applied to johnson see _ante_, ii. , , note i, and iv. , note . boswell wrote on june , :--'my father harps on my going over scotland with a brute (think, how shockingly erroneous!), and wandering (or some such phrase) to london.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] it is remarkable that johnson in his _life of blackmore_ [_works_, viii. ] calls the imaginary mr. johnson of the _lay monastery_ 'a constellation of excellence.' croker. [ ] page . boswell. see also _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'the late sir alexander boswell,' wrote sir walter scott, 'was a proud man, and, like his grandfather, thought that his father lowered himself by his deferential suit and service to johnson. i have observed he disliked any allusion to the book or to johnson himself, and i have heard that johnson's fine picture by sir joshua was sent upstairs out of the sitting apartments at auchinleck.' _croker corres_. ii. . this portrait, which was given by sir joshua to boswell (taylor's _reynolds_, i. ), is now in the possession of mr. charles morrison. [ ] 'i have always said that first whig was the devil.' _ante_, iii. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) has paid this tribute. 'lord elibank,' he writes, 'had a mind that embraced the greatest variety of topics, and produced the most original remarks. ... he had been a lieutenant-colonel in the army and was at the siege of carthagena, of which he left an elegant account (which i'm afraid is lost). he was a jacobite, and a member of the famous cocoa-tree club, and resigned his commission on some disgust.' dr. robertson and john home were his neighbours in the country, 'who made him change or soften down many of his original opinions, and prepared him for becoming a most agreeable member of the literary society of edinburgh.' smollett in _humphry clinker_ (letter of july ), describes him as 'a nobleman whom i have long revered for his humanity and universal intelligence, over and above the entertainment arising from the originality of his character.' boswell, in the _london mag._ , p. , thus mentions the cocoa-tree club:--'but even at court, though i see much external obeisance, i do not find congenial sentiments to warm my heart; and except when i have the conversation of a very few select friends, i am never so well as when i sit down to a dish of coffee in the cocoa tree, sacred of old to loyalty, look round me to men of ancient families, and please myself with the consolatory thought that there is perhaps more good in the nation than i know.' [ ] johnson's _works_, vii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the mitre tavern. _ante_, i. . [ ] of this earl of kelly boswell records the following pun:--'at a dinner at mr. crosbie's, when the company were very merry, the rev. dr. webster told them he was sorry to go away so early, but was obliged to catch the tide, to cross the firth of forth. "better stay a little," said thomas earl of kelly, "till you be half-seas over."' rogers's _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in the first edition, _and his son the advocate_. under this son, a. f. tytler, afterwards a lord of session by the title of lord woodhouselee, scott studied history at edinburgh college. lockhart's _scott_, ed. , i. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] 'if we know little of the ancient highlanders, let us not fill the vacuity with ossian. if we have not searched the magellanick regions, let us however forbear to people them with patagons.' johnson's _works_, ix. . horace walpole wrote on may , (_letters_, iv. ):--'oh! but we have discovered a race of giants! captain byron has found a nation of brobdignags on the coast of patagonia; the inhabitants on foot taller than he and his men on horseback. i don't indeed know how he and his sailors came to be riding in the south seas. however, it is a terrible blow to the irish, for i suppose all our dowagers now will be for marrying patagonians.' [ ] i desire not to be understood as agreeing _entirely_ with the opinions of dr. johnson, which i relate without any remark. the many imitations, however, of _fingal_, that have been published, confirm this observation in a considerable degree. boswell. johnson said to sir joshua of ossian:--'sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would _abandon_ his mind to it.' _ante_, iv. . [ ] in the first edition (p. ) this paragraph ran thus:--'young mr. tytler stepped briskly forward, and said, "_fingal_ is certainly genuine; for i have heard a great part of it repeated in the original."--dr. johnson indignantly asked him, "sir, do you understand the original?"--_tytler_. "no, sir."--_johnson_. "why, then, we see to what this testimony comes:--thus it is."--he afterwards said to me, "did you observe the wonderful confidence with which young tytler advanced, with his front already _brased_?"' [ ] for _in company_ we should perhaps read _in the company_. [ ] in the first edition, _this gentleman's talents and integrity are_, &c. [ ] 'a scotchman must be a very sturdy moralist who does not love scotland better than truth: he will always love it better than inquiry; and if falsehood flatters his vanity, will not be very diligent to detect it.' johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] lord chief baron geoffrey gilbert published in a book on the law of evidence. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] three instances, _ante_, pp. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] an instance is given in sacheverell's _account of the isle of man_, ed. , p. . [ ] mr. j. t. clark, the keeper of the advocates' library, edinburgh, obligingly informs me that in the margin of the copy of boswell's _journal_ in that library it is stated that this cause was _wilson versus maclean_. [ ] see _ante_, iv. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii , . [ ] he is described in _guy mannering_, ed. , iv. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'we now observe that the methodists, where they scatter their opinions, represent themselves as preaching the gospel to unconverted nations; and enthusiasts of all kinds have been inclined to disguise their particular tenets with pompous appellations, and to imagine themselves the great instruments of salvation.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] through various hazards and events we move. dryden, [_aeneid_, i. ]. boswell. [ ] long labours both by sea and land he bore. dryden, [_aeneid_, i. ]. boswell. [ ] the jesuits, headed by francis xavier, made their appearance in japan in . the first persecution was in ; it was followed by others in , , , . _encyclo. brit_. th edit. xii. . [ ] 'they congratulate our return as if we had been with phipps or banks; i am ashamed of their salutations.' _piozzi letters_, i. . phipps had gone this year to the arctic ocean (_ante_, p. ), and banks had accompanied captain cook in - . johnson says however (_works_, ix. ), that 'to the southern inhabitants of scotland the state of the mountains and the islands is equally unknown with that of borneo or sumatra.' see _ante_, p. , note , where scott says that 'the whole expedition was highly perilous.' smollett, in _humphry clinker_ (letter of july ), says of scotland in general:--'the people at the other end of the island know as little of scotland as of japan.' [ ] in sailing from sky to col. _ante_, p. . [ ] johnson, four years later, suggested to boswell that he should write this history. _ante_, iii. , . [ ] voltaire was born in ; his _louis xiv._ was published in or . [ ] a society for debate in edinburgh, consisting of the most eminent men. boswell. it was founded in by allan ramsay the painter, aided by robertson, hume, and smith. dugald stewart (_life of robertson_, ed. , p. ) says that 'it subsisted in vigour for six or seven years' and produced debates, such as have not often been heard in modern assemblies.' see also dr. a. carlyle's _auto_. p. . [ ] 'as for maclaurin's imitation of a _made dish_, it was a wretched attempt.' _ante,_ i. . [ ] it was of lord elibank's french cook 'that he exclaimed with vehemence, "i'd throw such a rascal into the river."'_ib._ [ ] 'he praised _gordon's palates_ with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to more important subjects.' _ib._ [ ] for the alarm he gave to mrs. boswell before this supper, see _ib._ [ ] on dr. boswell's death, in , boswell wrote of him:--'he was a very good scholar, knew a great many things, had an elegant taste, and was very affectionate; but he had no conduct. his money was all gone. and do you know he was not confined to one woman. he had a strange kind of religion; but i flatter myself he will be ere long, if he is not already, in heaven.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] johnson had written the _life_ of 'the great boerhaave,' as he called him. _works_, vi. . [ ] 'at edinburgh,' he wrote, 'i passed some days with men of learning, whose names want no advancement from my commemoration, or with women of elegance, which, perhaps, disclaims a pedant's praise.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] 'my acquaintance,' wrote richardson (_corres_. iv. ), 'lies chiefly among the ladies; i care not who knows it.' mrs. piozzi, in a marginal note on her own copy of the _piozzi letters_, says:--'dr. johnson said, that if mr. richardson had lived till _i_ came out, my praises would have added two or three years to his life. "for," says dr. johnson, "that fellow died merely from want of change among his flatterers: he perished for want of _more_, like a man obliged to breathe the same air till it is exhausted."' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . in her _journey_, i. , she says:--'richardson had seen little, and johnson has often told me that he had read little.' see _ante_, iv. . [ ] he may live like a gentleman, but he must not 'call himself _farmer_, and go about with a little round hat.' _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell italicises this word, i think, because johnson objected to the misuse of it. '"sir," said mr. edwards, "i remember you would not let us say _prodigious_ at college."' _ante_, iii. . [ ] as i have been scrupulously exact in relating anecdotes concerning other persons, i shall not withhold any part of this story, however ludicrous.--i was so successful in this boyish frolick, that the universal cry of the galleries was, '_encore_ the cow! _encore_ the cow!' in the pride of my heart, i attempted imitations of some other animals, but with very inferior effect. my reverend friend, anxious for my _fame_, with an air of the utmost gravity and earnestness, addressed me thus: 'my dear sir, i would _confine_ myself to the _cow_.' boswell. blair's advice was expressed more emphatically, and with a peculiar _burr_--'_stick to the cow_, mon.' walter scott. boswell's record, which moreover is far more humorous, is much more trustworthy than scott's tradition. [ ] mme. de sévigné in describing a death wrote:--'cela nous fit voir qu'on joue long-temps la comédie, et qu'à la mort on dit la vérité.' letter of june , . addison says:--'the end of a man's life is often compared to the winding up of a well-written play, where the principal persons still act in character, whatever the fate is which they undergo.... that innocent mirth which had been so conspicuous in sir thomas more's life did not forsake him to the last. his death was of a piece with his life. there was nothing in it new, forced, or affected.' _the spectator_, no. . young also thought, or at least, wrote differently. 'a death-bed's a detector of the heart. here tired dissimulation drops her mask.' _night thoughts, ii._ '"mirabeau dramatized his death" was the happy expression of the bishop of autun (talleyrand).' dumont's _mirabeau_, p. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , ; and ii. , . [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says of blair's conversation that 'it was so infantine that many people thought it impossible, at first sight, that he could be a man of sense or genius. he was as eager about a new paper to his wife's drawing-room, or his own new wig, as about a new tragedy or a new epic poem.' he adds, that he was 'capable of the most profound conversation, when circumstances led to it. he had not the least desire to shine, but was delighted beyond measure to shew other people in their best guise to his friends. "did not i shew you the lion well to-day?" used he to say after the exhibition of a remarkable stranger.' he had no wit, and for humour hardly a relish. robertson's reputation for wisdom may have been easily won. dr. a. carlyle says (_ib_. p. ):--'robertson's translations and paraphrases on other people's thoughts were so beautiful and so harmless that i never saw anybody lay claim to their own.' he may have flattered johnson by dexterously echoing his sentiments. [ ] in the _marmor norfolciense (ante_, i. ) johnson says:--'i know that the knowledge of the alphabet is so disreputable among these gentlemen [of the army], that those who have by ill-fortune formerly been taught it have partly forgot it by disuse, and partly concealed it from the world, to avoid the railleries and insults to which their education might make them liable.' johnson's _works,_ vi. iii. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'one of the young ladies had her slate before her, on which i wrote a question consisting of three figures to be multiplied by two figures. she looked upon it, and quivering her fingers in a manner which i thought very pretty, but of which i knew not whether it was art or play, multiplied the sum regularly in two lines, observing the decimal place; but did not add the two lines together, probably disdaining so easy an operation.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'words gigantic.' francis. horace, _ars poet._. . . [ ] one of the best criticks of our age 'does not wish to prevent the admirers of the incorrect and nerveless style which generally prevailed for a century before dr. johnson's energetick writings were known, from enjoying the laugh that this story may produce, in which he is very ready to join them.' he, however, requests me to observe, that 'my friend very properly chose a _long_ word on this occasion, not, it is believed, from any predilection for polysyllables, (though he certainly had a due respect for them,) but in order to put mr. braidwood's skill to the strictest test, and to try the efficacy of his instruction by the most difficult exertion of the organs of his pupils.' boswell. 'one of the best critics of our age' is, i believe, malone. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] it was here that lord auchinleck called him _ursa major. ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and v. , where 'mr. crosbie said that the english are better animals than the scots.' [ ] johnson himself had laughed at them (_ante_, ii. ) and accused them of foppery (_ante_, ii. ). [ ] johnson said, 'i never think i have hit hard, unless it rebounds (_ante_, ii. ), and, 'i would rather be attacked than unnoticed' (_ante_, iii. ). when he was told of a caricature 'of the nine muses flogging him round parnassus,' he said, 'sir, i am very glad to hear this. i hope the day will never arrive when i shall neither be the object of calumny or ridicule, for then i shall be neglected and forgotten.' croker's _boswell_, p. . see _ante_, ii. , and pp. , . 'there was much laughter when m. de lesseps mentioned that on his first visit to england the publisher who brought out the report of his meeting charged, as the first item of his bill, "£ for attacking the book in order to make it succeed." "since then," observed m. de lesseps, "i have been attacked gratuitously, and have got on without paying."' the times, feb. , . [ ] 'to wing my flight to fame.' dryden. virgil, _georgics_, iii. . [ ] on nov. he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'we came hither (to edinburgh) on the ninth of this month. i long to come under your care, but for some days cannot decently get away.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] he would have been astonished had he known that a few miles from edinburgh he had passed through two villages of serfs. the coal-hewers and salt-makers of tranent and preston-pans were still sold with the soil. 'in scotland domestic slavery is unknown, except so far as regards the coal-hewers and salt-makers, whose condition, it must be confessed, bears some resemblance to slavery; because all who have once acted in either of the capacities are compellable to serve, and fixed to their respective places of employment during life.' hargrave's _argument in the case of james sommersett_, . had johnson known this he might have given as his toast when in company with some very grave men at _edinburgh_:--'here's to the next insurrection of the slaves in _scotland_.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] the year following in the house of commons he railed at the london booksellers, 'who, he positively asserted, entirely governed the newspapers.' 'for his part,' he added, 'he had ordered that no english newspaper should come within his doors for three months.' _parl. hist_. xvii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'at the latter end of ben jonson went on foot into scotland, on purpose to visit drummond. his adventures in this journey he wrought into a poem; but that copy, with many other pieces, was accidentally burned.' whalley's _ben jonson_, preface, p. xlvi. [ ] perhaps the same woman showed the chapel who was there years later, when scott visited it. one of his friends 'hoped that they might, as habitual visitors, escape hearing the usual endless story of the silly old woman that showed the ruins'; but scott answered, 'there is a pleasure in the song which none but the songstress knows, and by telling her we know it all ready we should make the poor devil unhappy.' lockharts _scott_, ed. , ii. . [ ] _ o rare ben jonson_ is on jonson's tomb in westminster abbey. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'essex was at that time confined to the same chamber of the tower from which his father lord capel had been led to death, and in which his wife's grandfather had inflicted a voluntary death upon himself. when he saw his friend carried to what he reckoned certain fate, their common enemies enjoying the spectacle, and reflected that it was he who had forced lord howard upon the confidence of russel, he retired, and, by a _roman death_, put an end to his misery.' dalrymple's _memoirs of great britain and ireland_, vol. i. p. . boswell. in the original after 'his wife's grandfather,' is added 'lord northumberland.' it was his wife's great-grandfather, the eighth earl of northumberland. he killed himself in . burke's _peerage_. [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says of robertson and blair:--'having been bred at a time when the common people thought to play with cards or dice was a sin, and everybody thought it an indecorum in clergymen, they could neither of them play at golf or bowls, and far less at cards or backgammon, and on that account were very unhappy when from home in friends' houses in the country in rainy weather. as i had set the first example of playing at cards at home with unlocked door [carlyle was a minister], and so relieved the clergy from ridicule on that side, they both learned to play at whist after they were sixty.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and v. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] he wrote to boswell on nov. , (_ante_, iii. ):--'the expedition to the hebrides was the most pleasant journey that i ever made.' in his _diary_ he recorded on jan. , :--'in the autumn i took a journey to the hebrides, but my mind was not free from perturbation.' _pr. and med._ p. . the following letter to dr. taylor i have copied from the original in the possession of my friend mr. m. m. holloway:-- 'dear sir, 'when i was at edinburgh i had a letter from you, telling me that in answer to some enquiry you were informed that i was in the sky. i was then i suppose in the western islands of scotland; i set out on the northern expedition august , and came back to fleet-street, november . i have seen a new region. 'i have been upon seven of the islands, and probably should have visited many more, had we not begun our journey so late in the year, that the stormy weather came upon us, and the storms have i believe for about five months hardly any intermission. 'your letter told me that you were better. when you write do not forget to confirm that account. i had very little ill health while i was on the journey, and bore rain and wind tolerably well. i had a cold and deafness only for a few days, and those days i passed at a good house. i have traversed the east coast of scotland from south to north from edinburgh to inverness, and the west coast from north to south, from the highlands to glasgow, and am come back as i went, 'sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , . 'to the reverend dr. taylor, 'in ashbourn, 'derbyshire.' [ ] johnson speaking of this tour on april , , said:--'i got an acquisition of more ideas by it than by anything that i remember.' _ante_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , , note , and ii. . [ ] 'it may be doubted whether before the union any man between edinburgh and england had ever set a tree.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] lord balmerino's estate was forfeited to the crown on his conviction for high treason in (_ante_, i. ). [ ] 'i know not that i ever heard the wind so loud in any other place; and mr. boswell observed that its noise was all its own, for there were no trees to increase it.' johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'strong reasons for incredulity will readily occur. this faculty of seeing things out of sight is local and commonly useless. it is a breach of the common order of things, without any visible reason or perceptible benefit.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'to the confidence of these objections it may be replied... that second sight is only wonderful because it is rare, for, considered in itself, it involves no more difficulty than dreams.' _ib._ [ ] the fossilist of last century is the geologist of this. neither term is in johnson's _dictionary_, but johnson in his _journey (works_, ix. ) speaks of 'mr. janes the fossilist.' [ ] _ib_. p. . [ ] _ib_. p. . i do not see anything silly in the story. it is however better told in a letter to mrs. thrale. _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] mr. orme, one of the ablest historians of this age, is of the same opinion. he said to me, 'there are in that book thoughts, which, by long revolution in the great mind of johnson, have been formed and polished--like pebbles rolled in the ocean.' boswell. see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) mentions 'a national combination so invidious that their friends cannot defend it.' see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] every reader will, i am sure, join with me in warm admiration of the truly patriotic writer of this letter. i know not which most to applaud--that good sense and liberality of mind, which could see and admit the defects of his native country, to which no man is a more zealous friend:--or that candour, which induced him to give just praise to the minister whom he honestly and strenuously opposed. boswell. [ ] the original ms. is now in my possession. boswell. [ ] the passage that gave offence was as follows:--'mr. macleod is the proprietor of the islands of raasay, rona, and fladda, and possesses an extensive district in sky. the estate has not during four hundred years gained or lost a single acre. he acknowledges macleod of dunvegan as his chief, though his ancestors have formerly disputed the pre-eminence.' first edition, p. . the second edition was not published till the year after johnson's death. in it the passage remains unchanged. to it the following note was prefixed: 'strand, oct. , . since this work was printed off, the publisher, having been informed that the author some years ago had promised the laird of raasay to correct in a future edition a passage concerning him, thinks it a justice due to that gentleman to insert here the advertisement relative to this matter, which was published by dr. johnson's desire in the edinburgh newspapers in the year , and which has been lately reprinted in mr. boswell's _tour to the hebrides_.' (it is not unlikely that the publication of boswell's _tour_ occasioned a fresh demand for johnson's _journey_.) in later editions all the words after 'a single acre' are silently struck out. johnson's _works_, ix. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] rasay was highly gratified, and afterwards visited and dined with dr. johnson at his house in london. boswell. johnson wrote on may , :--'i have offended; and what is stranger, have justly offended, the nation of rasay. if they could come hither, they would be as fierce as the americans. _rasay_ has written to boswell an account of the injury done him by representing his house as subordinate to that of dunvegan. boswell has his letter, and, i believe, copied my answer. i have appeased him, if a degraded chief can possibly be appeased: but it will be thirteen days--days of resentment and discontent--before my recantation can reach him. many a dirk will imagination, during that interval, fix in my heart. i really question if at this time my life would not be in danger, if distance did not secure it. boswell will find his way to streatham before he goes, and will detail this great affair.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] in like manner he communicated to sir william forbes part of his journal from which he made the _life of johnson_. _ante_, iii. . [ ] in justice both to sir william forbes, and myself, it is proper to mention, that the papers which were submitted to his perusal contained only an account of our tour from the time that dr. johnson and i set out from edinburgh (p. ), and consequently did not contain the elogium on sir william forbes, (p. ), which he never saw till this book appeared in print; nor did he even know, when he wrote the above letter, that this _journal_ was to be published. boswell. this note is not in the first edition. [ ] _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] both _nonpareil_ and _bon chretien_ are in johnson's _dictionary_; _nonpareil_, is defined as _a kind of apple_, and _bon chretien_ as _a species of pear_. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] 'dryden's contemporaries, however they reverenced his genius, left his life unwritten; and nothing therefore can be known beyond what casual mention and uncertain tradition have supplied.' johnson's _works_, vii. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'before great agamemnon reign'd reign'd kings as great as he, and brave whose huge ambition's now contain'd in the small compass of a grave; in endless night they sleep, unwept, unknown, no bard had they to make all time their own.' francis. horace, _odes_, iv. . . [ ] having found, on a revision of the first edition of this work, that, notwithstanding my best care, a few observations had escaped me, which arose from the instant impression, the publication of which might perhaps be considered as passing the bounds of a strict decorum, i immediately ordered that they should be omitted in the subsequent editions. i was pleased to find that they did not amount in the whole to a page. if any of the same kind are yet left, it is owing to inadvertence alone, no man being more unwilling to give pain to others than i am. a contemptible scribbler, of whom i have learned no more than that, after having disgraced and deserted the clerical character, he picks up in london a scanty livelihood by scurrilous lampoons under a feigned name, has impudently and falsely asserted that the passages omitted were _defamatory_, and that the omission was not voluntary, but compulsory. the last insinuation i took the trouble publickly to disprove; yet, like one of pope's dunces, he persevered in 'the lie o'erthrown.' [_prologue to the satires_, l. .] as to the charge of defamation, there is an obvious and certain mode of refuting it. any person who thinks it worth while to compare one edition with the other, will find that the passages omitted were not in the least degree of that nature, but exactly such as i have represented them in the former part of this note, the hasty effusion of momentary feelings, which the delicacy of politeness should have suppressed. boswell. in the second edition this note ended at the first paragraph, the latter part being added in the third. for the 'few observations omitted' see _ante_, pp. , , . the 'contemptible scribbler' was, i believe, john wolcot, better known by his assumed name of peter pindar. he had been a clergyman. in his _epistle to boswell (works_, i. ), he says in reference to the passages about sir a. macdonald (afterwards lord macdonald):--'a letter of severe remonstrance was sent to mr. b., who, in consequence, omitted in the second edition of his _journal_ what is so generally pleasing to the public, viz., the scandalous passages relative to that nobleman.' it was in a letter to the _gent. mag._ , p. , that boswell 'publickly disproved the insinuation' made 'in a late scurrilous publication' that these passages 'were omitted in consequence of a letter from his lordship. nor was any application,' he continues, 'made to me by the nobleman alluded to at any time to make any alteration in my _journal_.' [ ] 'nothing extenuate nor set down aught in malice.' _othello_, act v. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note , , ; and johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] of his two imitations boswell means _the vanity of human wishes_, of which one hundred lines were written in a day. _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] johnson, it should seem, did not allow that there was any pleasure in writing poetry. 'it has been said there is pleasure in writing, particularly in writing verses. i allow you may have pleasure from writing after it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it again.' _ante_, iv. . what johnson always sought was to sufficiently occupy the mind. so long as that was done, that labour would, i believe, seem to him the pleasanter which required the less thought. [ ] nathan bailey published his _english dictionary_ in . [ ] 'woolston, the scourge of scripture, mark with awe! and mighty jacob, blunderbuss of law.' _the dunciad_, first ed., bk. iii. l. . giles jacob published a _law dictionary_ in . [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] a writer in the _gent. mag._ , p. , with some reason says:--'i heartily wish mr. boswell would get this latin poem translated.' [ ] boswell, briefly mentioning the tour which johnson made to wales in the year with mr. and mrs. thrale, says:--'i do not find that he kept any journal or notes of what he saw there' (_ante_, ii. ). a journal had been kept however, which in was edited and published by mr. duppa. mrs. piozzi, writing in october of that year, says that three years earlier she had been shewn the ms. by a mr. white, and that it was genuine. 'the gentleman who possessed it seemed shy of letting me read the whole, and did not, as it appeared, like being asked how it came into his hands.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . according to mr. croker (croker's _boswell_, p. ) 'it was preserved by johnson's servant, barber. how it escaped boswell's research is not known.' a fragment of johnson's _annals_, also preserved by barber, had in like manner never been seen by boswell; _ante_, i. , note . the editor of these _annals_ says (preface, p. v):--'francis barber, unwilling that all the mss. of his illustrious master should be utterly lost, preserved these relicks from the flames. by purchase from barber's widow they came into the possession of the editor.' it seems likely that barber was afraid to own what he had done; though as he was the residuary legatee he was safe from all consequences, unless the executors of the will who were to hold the residue of the estate in trust for him had chosen to proceed against him. mr. duppa in editing this journal received assistance from mrs. piozzi, 'who,' he says (preface, p. xi), 'explained many facts which could not otherwise have been understood.' a passage in one of her letters dated bath, oct. , , shows how unfriendly were the relations between her and her eldest daughter, johnson's queeny, who had married admiral lord keith. 'i am sadly afraid,' she writes, 'of lady k.'s being displeased, and fancying i promoted this publication. could i have caught her for a quarter-of-an-hour, i should have proved my innocence, and might have shown her duppa's letter; but she left neither note, card, nor message, and when my servant ran to all the inns in chase of her, he learned that she had left the white hart at twelve o'clock. vexatious! but it can't be helped. i hope the pretty little girl my people saw with her will pay her more tender attention.' three days later she wrote:--'johnson's _diary_ is selling rapidly, though the contents are _bien maigre_, i must confess. mr. duppa has politely suppressed some sarcastic expressions about my family, the cottons, whom we visited at combermere, and at lleweney.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. - . mr. croker in was able to make 'a collation of the original ms., which has supplied many corrections and some omissions in mr. duppa's text.' mr. croker's text i have generally followed. [ ] 'when i went with johnson to lichfield, and came down to breakfast at the inn, my dress did not please him, and he made me alter it entirely before he would stir a step with us about the town, saying most satirical things concerning the appearance i made in a riding-habit; and adding, "'tis very strange that such eyes as yours cannot discern propriety of dress; if i had a sight only half as good, i think i should see to the centre."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] for mrs. (miss) porter, mrs. (miss) aston, mr. green, mrs. cobb, mr. (peter) garrick, miss seward, and dr. taylor, see _ante_, ii. - . [ ] dr. erasmus darwin, the physiologist and poet, grandfather of charles darwin. mrs. piozzi when at florence wrote:--'i have no roses equal to those at lichfield, where on one tree i recollect counting eighty-four within my own reach; it grew against the house of dr. darwin.' piozzi's _journey_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , for mention of her father and brother. [ ] the verse in _martial_ is:-- 'defluat, et lento splendescat turbida limo.' in the common editions it has the number , and not . duppa. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson wrote on nov. , , 'i was yesterday at chatsworth. they complimented me with playing the fountain and opening the cascade. but i am of my friend's opinion, that when one has seen the ocean cascades are but little things.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'a water-work with a concealed spring, which, upon touching, spouted out streams from every bough of a willow-tree.' _piozzi ms_. croker. [ ] a race-horse, which attracted so much of dr. johnson's attention, that he said, 'of all the duke's possessions, i like atlas best.' duppa. [ ] for johnson's last visit to chatsworth, see _ante_, iv. , . [ ] 'from the muses, sir thomas more bore away the first crown, erasmus the second, and micyllus has the third.' in the ms. johnson has introduced [greek: aeren] by the side of [greek: eilen], duppa. 'jacques moltzer, en latin micyllus. ce surnom lui fut donné le jour où il remplissait avec le plus grand succès le rôle de micyllus dans _le songe_ de lucien qui, arrange en drame, fut représenté au collège de francfort. né en , mort en .' _nouv. biog. gén._ xxxv. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note i, and iii. . [ ] mr. gilpin was an undergraduate at oxford. duppa. [ ] john parker, of brownsholme, in lancashire [browsholme, in yorkshire], esq. duppa. [ ] mrs. piozzi 'rather thought' that this was _capability brown_ [_ante_, iii. ]. croker. [ ] mr. gell, of hopton hall, father of sir william gell, well known for his topography of troy. duppa. [ ] see _ante_, iii. , for a visit paid by johnson and boswell to kedleston in . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the parish of prestbury. duppa. [ ] at this time the seat of sir lynch salusbury cotton [mrs. thrale's relation], now, of lord combermere, his grandson, from which place he takes his title. duppa. [ ] shavington hall, in shropshire. duppa. [ ] 'to guard. to adorn with lists, laces or ornamental borders. obsolete.' johnson's _dictionary._ [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on nov. , :--'you seem to mention lord kilmurrey _(sic)_ as a stranger. we were at his house in cheshire [shropshire].... do not you remember how he rejoiced in having _no_ park? he could not disoblige his neighbours by sending them _no_ venison.' _piozzi letters,_ ii. . [ ] this remark has reference to family conversation. robert was the eldest son of sir l.s. cotton, and lived at lleweney. duppa. [ ] _paradise lost,_ book xi. v. . duppa. [ ] see mrs. piozzi's _synonymy_, i. , for an anecdote of this walk. [ ] lleweney hall was the residence of robert cotton, esq., mrs. thrale's cousin german. here mr. and mrs. thrale and dr. johnson staid three weeks. duppa. mrs. piozzi wrote in :--'poor old lleweney hall! pulled down after standing years in possession of the salusburys.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] johnson's name for mrs. thrale. _ante,_ i. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on sept. , :--'boswell wants to see wales; but except the woods of bachycraigh, what is there in wales? what that can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench the thirst of curiosity?' _piozzi letters,_ i. . _ante,_ iii. , note . [ ] pennant gives a description of this house, in a tour he made into north wales in :--'not far from dymerchion, lies half buried in woods the singular house of bâch y graig. it consists of a mansion of three sides, enclosing a square court. the first consists of a vast hall and parlour: the rest of it rises into six wonderful stories, including the cupola; and forms from the second floor the figure of a pyramid: the rooms are small and inconvenient. the bricks are admirable, and appear to have been made in holland; and the model of the house was probably brought from flanders, where this kind of building is not unfrequent. it was built by sir richard clough, an eminent merchant, in the reign of queen elizabeth. the initials of his name are in iron on the front, with the date , and on the gateway .' duppa. [ ] bishop shipley, whom johnson described as _'knowing and convertible' ante,_ iv. . johnson, in his _dictionary_, says that _'conversable_ is sometimes written _conversible_, but improperly.' [ ] william lloyd, bishop of st. asaph and afterwards of worcester. he was one of the seven bishops who were sent to the tower in . his character is drawn by burnet, _history of his own time_, ed. , i. . it was he of whom bishop wilkins said that 'lloyd had the most learning in ready cash of any he ever knew.' _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] a curious account of dodwell and 'the paradoxes after which he seemed to hunt' is given in burnet, iv. . he was camden professor of ancient history in the university of oxford. 'it was about him that william iii uttered those memorable words: "he has set his heart on being a martyr; and i have set mine on disappointing him."' macaulay's _england_, ed. , iv. . see hearne in leland's _itin._, rd ed. v. . [ ] by robert dudley, earl of leicester, in . duppa. [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and v. . [ ] perhaps johnson wrote _mere_. [ ] humphry llwyd was a native of denbigh, and practised there as a physician, and also represented the town in parliament. he died , aged . duppa. [ ] mrs. thrale's father. duppa. [ ] cowper wrote a few years later in the first book of _the task_, in his description of the grounds at weston underwood:-- 'not distant far a length of colonnade invites us. monument of ancient taste, now scorned, but worthy of a better fate. our fathers knew the value of a screen from sultry suns, and in their shaded walks and long-protracted bowers enjoyed at noon the gloom and coolness of declining day. we bear our shades about us: self-deprived of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, and range an indian waste without a tree. thanks to benevolus [a]--he spares me yet these chestnuts ranged in corresponding lines, and though himself so polished still reprieves the obsolete prolixity of shade.' [ ] such a passage as this shews that johnson was not so insensible to nature as is often asserted. mrs. piozzi (_anec._ p. ) says:--'mr. thrale loved prospects, and was mortified that his friend could not enjoy the sight of those different dispositions of wood and water, hill and valley, that travelling through england and france affords a man. but when he wished to point them out to his companion: "never heed such nonsense," would he reply; "a blade of grass is always a blade of grass, whether in one country or another. let us, if we _do_ talk, talk about something; men and women are my subjects of enquiry; let us see how these differ from those we have left behind."' she adds (p. ):-- 'walking in a wood when it rained was, i think, the only rural image he pleased his fancy with; "for," says he, "after one has gathered the apples in an orchard, one wishes them well baked, and removed to a london eating-house for enjoyment."' see _ante_, pp. , note , , note , , note i, and , note i, for johnson's descriptions of scenery. passages in his letters shew that he had some enjoyment of country life. thus he writes:--'i hope to see standing corn in some part of the earth this summer, but i shall hardly smell hay or suck clover flowers.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'what i shall do next i know not; all my schemes of rural pleasure have been some way or other disappointed.' _ib._ p. . 'i hope mrs. ------ when she came to her favourite place found her house dry, and her woods growing, and the breeze whistling, and the birds singing, and her own heart dancing.' _ib._ p. . in this very trip to wales, after describing the high bank of a river 'shaded by gradual rows of trees,' he writes:--'the gloom, the stream, and the silence generate thoughtfulness.' _post,_ p. . [a] mr. throckmorton the owner. [ ] in the ms. in dr. johnson's handwriting, he has first entered in his diary, 'the old clerk had great appearance of joy at seeing his mistress, and foolishly said that he was now willing to die:' he afterwards wrote in a separate column, on the same leaf, under the head of _notes and omissions,_ 'he had a crown;' and then he appears to have read over his diary at a future time, and interlined the paragraph with the words 'only'--'given him by my mistress,' which is written in ink of a different colour. duppa. 'if mr. duppa,' wrote mrs. piozzi, 'does not send me a copy of johnson's _diary,_ he is as shabby as it seems our doctor thought me, when i gave but a crown to the old clerk. the poor clerk had probably never seen a crown in his possession before. things were very distant a.d. from what they are .' hayward's _piozzi,_ ii. . mrs. piozzi writes as if johnson's censure had been passed in and not in . [ ] mrs. piozzi has the following ms. note on this:--'he said i flattered the people to whose houses we went. i was saucy, and said i was obliged to be civil for two, meaning himself and me. he replied nobody would thank me for compliments they did not understand. at gwaynynog _he_ was flattered, and was happy of course.' hayward's _piozzi,_ i. . sept. , . _mrs. thrale._ 'i remember, sir, when we were travelling in wales, how you called me to account for my civility to the people. "madam," you said, "let me have no more of this idle commendation of nothing. why is it that whatever you see, and whoever you see, you are to be so indiscriminately lavish of praise?" "why i'll tell you, sir," said i, "when i am with you, and mr. thrale, and queeny [miss thrale], i am obliged to be civil for four."' mme. d'arblay's _diary,_ i. . on june , , he wrote to mrs. thrale from lichfield:--'everybody remembers you all: you left a good impression behind you. i hope you will do the same at------. do not make them speeches. unusual compliments, to which there is no stated and prescriptive answer, embarrass the feeble, who know not what to say, and disgust the wise, who knowing them to be false suspect them to be hypocritical.' _piozzi letters,_ i. . she records that he once said to her:--'you think i love flattery, and so i do, but a little too much always disgusts me. that fellow richardson [the novelist] on the contrary could not be contented to sail quietly down the stream of reputation, without longing to taste the froth from every stroke of the oar.' piozzi's _anec._ p. . see _ante_, iii. , for johnson's rebuke of hannah more's flattery. [ ] johnson, in his dictionary, defines _calamine_ or _lapis calaminaris_ as _a kind of fossile bituminous earth, which being mixed with copper changes it into brass._ it is native siliceous oxide of zinc. _the imperial dictionary._ [ ] see _ante,_ iii. . [ ] 'no' or 'little' is here probably omitted. croker. [ ] the name of this house is bodryddan; formerly the residence of the stapyltons, the parents of five co-heiresses, of whom mrs. cotton, afterwards lady salusbury cotton, was one. duppa. [ ] 'dr. johnson, whose ideas of anything not positively large were ever mingled with contempt, asked of one of our sharp currents in north wales, "has this _brook_ e'er a name?" and received for answer, "why, dear sir, this is the _river_ ustrad." "let us," said he, turning to his friend, "jump over it directly, and shew them how an englishman should treat a welsh river."' piozzi's _synonymy,_ i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] on aug. he wrote to mr. levett:--'i have made nothing of the ipecacuanha.' _ante_, ii. . mr. croker suggests that _up_ is omitted after 'i gave.' [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] f.g. are the printer's signatures, by which it appears that at this time four sheets (b, c, d, e), or pages had already been printed. the ms. was 'put to the press' on june . _ante_, ii. . [ ] the english version psalm begins,--'my heart sheweth me the wickedness of the ungodly,' which has no relation to 'dixit injustus.' [ ] this alludes to 'a prayer by r.w., (evidently robert wisedom) which sir henry ellis, of the british museum, has found among the hymns which follow the old version of the singing psalms, at the end of barker's _bible_ of . it begins, 'preserve us, lord, by thy deare word, from turk and pope, defend us lord, which both would thrust out of his throne our lord jesus christ, thy deare son.' croker. [ ] 'proinde quum dominus matth. docet discipulos suos ne in orando multiloqui sint, nihil aliud docet quam ne credant deum inani verborum strepitu flecti rem eandem subinde flagitantium. nam graecis est [greek: battologaesate]. [greek: battologein] autem illis dicitur qui voces easdem frequenter iterant sine causa, vel loquacitatis, vel naturae, vel consuetudinis vitio. alioqui juxta precepta rhetorum nonnunquam laudis est iterare verba, quemadmodum et christus in cruce clamitat. deus meus, deus meus: non erat illa [greek: battologia], sed ardens ac vehemens affectus orantis.' erasmus's _works_, ed. , v. . [ ] this alludes to southwell's stanzas 'upon the image of death,' in his _maeonia_, [maeoniae] a collection of spiritual poems:-- 'before my face the picture hangs, that daily should put me in mind of those cold names and bitter pangs that shortly i am like to find: but, yet, alas! full little i do thinke hereon that i must die.' &c. robert southwell was an english jesuit, who was imprisoned, tortured, and finally, in feb. [ ] executed for teaching the roman catholic tenets in england. croker. [ ] this work, which johnson was now reading, was, most probably, a little book, entitled _baudi epistolae_. in his _life of milton_ [_works_, vii. ], he has made a quotation from it. duppa. [ ] bishop shipley had been an army chaplain. _ante_, iii. . [ ] the title of the poem is [greek: poiaema nouthetikon]. duppa. [ ] this entry refers to the following passage in leland's _itinerary_, published by thomas hearne, ed. , iv. . 'b. _smith_ in k.h. . dayes, and last bishop of _lincolne_, beganne a new foundation at this place settinge up a mr. there with . preistes, and . poore men in an hospitall. he sett there alsoe a schoole-mr. to teach grammer that hath ._l_. by the yeare, and an under-schoole-mr. that hath ._l_. by the yeare. king h. . was a great benefactour to this new foundation, and gave to it an ould hospitall called denhall in wirhall in cheshire.' [ ] _a journey to meqwinez, the residence of the present emperor of fez and morocco, on the occasion of commodore stewart's embassy thither, for the redemption of the british captives, in the year _. duppa. [ ] the _bibliotheca literaria_ was published in london, - , in to numbers, but only extended to ten numbers. duppa. [ ] by this expression it would seem, that on this day johnson ate sparingly. duppa. [ ] 'a weakness of the knees, not without some pain in walking, which i feel increased after i have dined.' duppa. [ ] penmaen mawr is a huge rock, rising nearly feet perpendicular above the sea. along a shelf of this precipice, is formed an excellent road, well guarded, toward the sea, by a strong wall, supported in many parts by arches turned underneath it. before this wall was built, travellers sometimes fell down the precipices. duppa. [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] 'johnson said that one of the castles in wales would contain all the castles that he had seen in scotland.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] this gentleman was a lieutenant in the navy. duppa. [ ] lady catharine percival, daughter of the second earl of egmont: this was, it appears, the lady of whom mrs. piozzi relates, that 'for a lady of quality, since dead, who received us at her husband's seat in wales with less attention than he had long been accustomed to, he had a rougher denunciation:--"that woman," cried johnson, "is like sour small beer, the beverage of her table, and produce of the wretched country she lives in: like that, she could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is spoiled."' [_anec_. p. .] and it is probably of her, too, that another anecdote is told:--'we had been visiting at a lady's house, whom, as we returned, some of the company ridiculed for her ignorance:--"she is not ignorant," said he, "i believe, of any thing she has been taught, or of any thing she is desirous to know; and i suppose if one wanted a little _run tea_, she might be a proper person enough to apply to.'" [_ib_. p. .] mrs. piozzi says, in her ms. letters, 'that lady catharine comes off well in the _diary_. he _said_ many severe things of her, which he did not commit to paper.' she died in . croker. [ ] johnson described in his disappointment on his return to lichfield. _ante_, i. . [ ] 'it was impossible not to laugh at the patience doctor johnson shewed, when a welsh parson of mean abilities, though a good heart, struck with reverence at the sight of dr. johnson, whom he had heard of as the greatest man living, could not find any words to answer his inquiries concerning a motto round somebody's arms which adorned a tomb-stone in ruabon church-yard. if i remember right, the words were, heb dw, heb dym, dw o' diggon. and though of no very difficult construction, the gentleman seemed wholly confounded, and unable to explain them; till mr. johnson, having picked out the meaning by little and little, said to the man, "_heb_ is a preposition, i believe, sir, is it not?" my countryman recovering some spirits upon the sudden question, cried out, "so i humbly presume, sir," very comically.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . the welsh words, which are the myddelton motto, mean, 'without god, without all. god is all-sufficient.' _piozzi ms_. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] in the whole income for llangwinodyl, including surplice fees, amounted to forty-six pounds two shillings and twopence, and for tydweilliog, forty-three pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence; so that it does not appear that mr. thrale carried into effect his good intention. duppa. [ ] mr. thrale was near-sighted, and could not see the goats browsing on snowdon, and he promised his daughter, who was a child of ten years old, a penny for every goat she would shew him, and dr. johnson kept the account; so that it appears her father was in debt to her one hundred and forty-nine pence. queeny was the epithet, which had its origin in the nursery, by which miss thrale was always distinguished by johnson. duppa. her name was esther. the allusion was to queen esther. johnson often pleasantly mentions her in his letters to her mother. thus on july , , he writes:--'as if i might not correspond with my queeney, and we might not tell one another our minds about politicks or morals, or anything else. queeney and i are both steady and may be trusted; we are none of the giddy gabblers, we think before we speak.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . four days later he wrote:--'tell my pretty dear queeney, that when we meet again, we will have, at least for some time, two lessons in a day. i love her and think on her when i am alone; hope we shall be very happy together and mind our books.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , for the inscription on an urn erected by mr. myddelton 'on the banks of a rivulet where johnson delighted to stand and repeat verses.' on sept. , , johnson wrote to mrs. thrale: --'mr. ----'s erection of an urn looks like an intention to bury me alive; i would as willingly see my friend, however benevolent and hospitable, quietly inurned. let him think for the present of some more acceptable memorial.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote on oct. , :--'my two clerical friends darby and worthington have both died this month. i have known worthington long, and to die is dreadful. i believe he was a very good man.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] thomas, the second lord lyttelton. duppa. [ ] mr. gwynn the architect was a native of shrewsbury, and was at this time completing a bridge across the severn, called the english bridge: besides this bridge, he built one at acham, over the severn, near to shrewsbury; and the bridges at worcester, oxford [magdalen bridge], and henley. duppa. he was also the architect of the oxford market, which was opened in . _oxford during the last century_, ed. , p. . johnson and boswell travelled to oxford with him in march, . _ante_, ii. . in he got into some difficulties, in which johnson tried to help him, as is shewn by the following autograph letter in the possession of my friend mr. m. m. holloway:-- 'sir, 'poor mr. gwyn is in great distress under the weight of the late determination against him, and has still hopes that some mitigation may be obtained. if it be true that whatever has by his negligence been amiss, may be redressed for a sum much less than has been awarded, the remaining part ought in equity to be returned, or, what is more desirable, abated. when the money is once paid, there is little hope of getting it again. 'the load is, i believe, very hard upon him; he indulges some flattering opinions that by the influence of his academical friends it may be lightened, and will not be persuaded but that some testimony of my kindness may be beneficial. i hope he has been guilty of nothing worse than credulity, and he then certainly deserves commiseration. i never heard otherwise than that he was an honest man, and i hope that by your countenance and that of other gentlemen who favour or pity him some relief may be obtained. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt court, fleet-street, 'jan. , .' [ ] an ancestor of mine, a nursery-gardener, thomas wright by name, after whom my grandfather, thomas wright hill, was called, planted this walk. the tradition preserved in my family is that on his wedding-day he took six men with him and planted these trees. when blamed for keeping the wedding-dinner waiting, he answered, that if what he had been doing turned out well, it would be of far more value than a wedding-dinner. [ ] the rector of st. chad's, in shrewsbury. he was appointed master of pembroke college, oxford, in the following year. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'i have heard dr. johnson protest that he never had quite as much as he wished of wall-fruit except once in his life, and that was when we were all together at ombersley.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . mrs. thrale wrote to him in :--'mr. scrase gives us fine fruit; i wished you my pear yesterday; but then what would one pear have done for you?' _piozzi letters_, ii. . it seems unlikely that johnson should not at streatham have had all the wall-fruit that he wished. [ ] this visit was not to lord lyttelton, but to his uncle [afterwards by successive creations, lord westcote, and lord lyttelton], the father of the present lord lyttelton, who lived at a house called little hagley. duppa. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale in :--'i would have been glad to go to hagley in compliance with mr. lyttelton's kind invitation, for beside the pleasure of his conversation i should have had the opportunity of recollecting past times, and wandering _per montes notos et flumina nota_, of recalling the images of sixteen, and reviewing my conversations with poor ford.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he had been at school at stourbridge, close by hagley. _ante_, i. . see walpole's _letters_, ix. , for an anecdote of lord westcote. [ ] horace walpole, writing of hagley in sept. (_letters_, ii. ), says:--'there is extreme taste in the park: the seats are not the best, but there is not one absurdity. there is a ruined castle, built by miller, that would get him his freedom even of strawberry [walpole's own house at twickenham]: it has the true rust of the barons' wars.' [ ] 'mrs. lyttelton forced me to play at whist against my liking, and her husband took away johnson's candle that he wanted to read by at the other end of the room. those, i trust, were the offences.' _piozzi ms._ croker. [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) thus writes of shenstone and the leasowes:--'he began to point his prospects, to diversify his surface, to entangle his walks, and to wind his waters; which he did with such judgment and such fancy as made his little domain the envy of the great and the admiration of the skilful; a place to be visited by travellers and copied by designers. .... for awhile the inhabitants of hagley affected to tell their acquaintance of the little fellow that was trying to make himself admired; but when by degrees the leasowes forced themselves into notice, they took care to defeat the curiosity which they could not suppress by conducting their visitants perversely to inconvenient points of view, and introducing them at the wrong end of a walk to detect a deception; injuries of which shenstone would heavily complain. where there is emulation there will be vanity; and where there is vanity there will be folly. the pleasure of shenstone was all in his eye: he valued what he valued merely for its looks; nothing raised his indignation more than to ask if there were any fishes in his water.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and v. . [ ] 'he spent his estate in adorning it, and his death was probably hastened by his anxieties. he was a lamp that spent its oil in blazing. it is said that if he had lived a little longer he would have been assisted by a pension: such bounty could not have been ever more properly bestowed.' johnson's _works_, viii. . his friend, mr. graves, the author of _the spiritual quixote_, in a note on this passage says that, if he was sometimes distressed for money, yet he was able to leave legacies and two small annuities. [ ] mr. duppa--without however giving his authority--says that this was dr. wheeler, mentioned _ante_, iii. . the _birmingham directory_ for the year shews that there were two tradesmen in the town of that name, one having the same christian name, benjamin, as dr. wheeler. [ ] boswell visited these works in . _ante_, ii. . [ ] burke in the house of commons on jan. , , in a debate on falkland's island, said of the spanish declaration:--'it was made, i admit, on the true principles of trade and manufacture. it puts me in mind of a birmingham button which has passed through an hundred hands, and after all is not worth three-halfpence a dozen.' _parl. hist._ xvi. . [ ] johnson and boswell drove through the park in . _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'my friend the late lord grosvenor had a house at salt hill, where i usually spent a part of the summer, and thus became acquainted with that great and good man, jacob bryant. here the conversation turned one morning on a greek criticism by dr. johnson in some volume lying on the table, which i ventured (_for i was then young_) to deem incorrect, and pointed it out to him. i could not help thinking that he was somewhat of my opinion, but he was cautious and reserved. "but, sir," said i, willing to overcome his scruples, "dr. johnson himself admitted that he was not a good greek scholar." "sir," he replied, with a serious and impressive air, "it is not easy for us to say what such a man as johnson would call a good greek scholar." i hope that i profited by that lesson--certainly i never forgot it.' gifford's _works of ford_, vol. i. p. lxii. croker's _boswell_, p. . 'so notorious is mr. bryant's great fondness for studying and proving the truths of the creation according to moses, that he told me himself, and with much quaint humour, a pleasantry of one of his friends in giving a character of him:--"bryant," said he, "is a very good scholar, and knows all things whatever up to noah, but not a single thing in the world beyond the deluge."' mme. d'arblay's diary, iii. . [ ] this is a work written by william durand, bishop of mende, and printed on vellum, in folio, by fust and schoeffer, in mentz, . it is the third book that is known to be printed with a date. duppa. it is perhaps the first book with a date printed in movable metal type. _brunei_, ed. , ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] dr. johnson, in another column of his _diary_, has put down, in a note, 'first printed book in greek, lascaris's _grammar_, to, mediolani, .' the imprint of this book is, _mediolani impressum per magistrum dionysium paravisinum_. m.cccc.lxxvi. die xxx januarii. the first book printed in the english language was the _historyes of troye_, printed in . duppa. a copy of the _historyes of troy_ is exhibited in the bodleian library with the following superscription:--'lefevre's _recuyell of the historyes of troye_. the first book printed in the english language. issued by caxton at bruges about .' [ ] _the battle of the frogs and mice_. the first edition was printed by laonicus cretensis, . duppa. [ ] mr. coulson was a senior fellow of university college. lord stowell informed me that he was very eccentric. he would on a fine day hang out of the college windows his various pieces of apparel to air, which used to be universally answered by the young men hanging out from all the other windows, quilts, carpets, rags, and every kind of trash, and this was called an _illumination_. his notions of the eminence and importance of his academic situation were so peculiar, that, when he afterwards accepted a college living, he expressed to lord stowell his doubts whether, after living so long in the _great world_, he might not grow weary of the comparative retirement of a country parish. croker. see _ante_, ii. , note. [ ] dr. robert vansittart, fellow of all souls, and regius professor of law. duppa. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on nov. , :--'poor v------! there are not so many reasons as he thinks why he should envy me, but there are some; he wants what i have, a kind and careful mistress; and wants likewise what i shall want at my return. he is a good man, and when his mind is composed a man of parts.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . the end of the fifth volume. proofreaders samuel johnson by leslie stephen new york contents. chapter i. childhood and early life chapter ii. literary career chapter iii. johnson and his friends chapter iv. johnson as a literary dictator chapter v. the closing years of johnson's life chapter vi. johnson's writings samuel johnson. chapter i. childhood and early life. samuel johnson was born in lichfield in . his father, michael johnson, was a bookseller, highly respected by the cathedral clergy, and for a time sufficiently prosperous to be a magistrate of the town, and, in the year of his son's birth, sheriff of the county. he opened a bookstall on market-days at neighbouring towns, including birmingham, which was as yet unable to maintain a separate bookseller. the tradesman often exaggerates the prejudices of the class whose wants he supplies, and michael johnson was probably a more devoted high churchman and tory than many of the cathedral clergy themselves. he reconciled himself with difficulty to taking the oaths against the exiled dynasty. he was a man of considerable mental and physical power, but tormented by hypochondriacal tendencies. his son inherited a share both of his constitution and of his principles. long afterwards samuel associated with his childish days a faint but solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds and long black hood. the lady was queen anne, to whom, in compliance with a superstition just dying a natural death, he had been taken by his mother to be touched for the king's evil. the touch was ineffectual. perhaps, as boswell suggested, he ought to have been presented to the genuine heirs of the stuarts in rome. disease and superstition had thus stood by his cradle, and they never quitted him during life. the demon of hypochondria was always lying in wait for him, and could be exorcised for a time only by hard work or social excitement. of this we shall hear enough; but it may be as well to sum up at once some of the physical characteristics which marked him through life and greatly influenced his career. the disease had scarred and disfigured features otherwise regular and always impressive. it had seriously injured his eyes, entirely destroying, it seems, the sight of one. he could not, it is said, distinguish a friend's face half a yard off, and pictures were to him meaningless patches, in which he could never see the resemblance to their objects. the statement is perhaps exaggerated; for he could see enough to condemn a portrait of himself. he expressed some annoyance when reynolds had painted him with a pen held close to his eye; and protested that he would not be handed down to posterity as "blinking sam." it seems that habits of minute attention atoned in some degree for this natural defect. boswell tells us how johnson once corrected him as to the precise shape of a mountain; and mrs. thrale says that he was a close and exacting critic of ladies' dress, even to the accidental position of a riband. he could even lay down aesthetical canons upon such matters. he reproved her for wearing a dark dress as unsuitable to a "little creature." "what," he asked, "have not all insects gay colours?" his insensibility to music was even more pronounced than his dulness of sight. on hearing it said, in praise of a musical performance, that it was in any case difficult, his feeling comment was, "i wish it had been impossible!" the queer convulsions by which he amazed all beholders were probably connected with his disease, though he and reynolds ascribed them simply to habit. when entering a doorway with his blind companion, miss williams, he would suddenly desert her on the step in order to "whirl and twist about" in strange gesticulations. the performance partook of the nature of a superstitious ceremonial. he would stop in a street or the middle of a room to go through it correctly. once he collected a laughing mob in twickenham meadows by his antics; his hands imitating the motions of a jockey riding at full speed and his feet twisting in and out to make heels and toes touch alternately. he presently sat down and took out a _grotius de veritate_, over which he "seesawed" so violently that the mob ran back to see what was the matter. once in such a fit he suddenly twisted off the shoe of a lady who sat by him. sometimes he seemed to be obeying some hidden impulse, which commanded him to touch every post in a street or tread on the centre of every paving-stone, and would return if his task had not been accurately performed. in spite of such oddities, he was not only possessed of physical power corresponding to his great height and massive stature, but was something of a proficient at athletic exercises. he was conversant with the theory, at least, of boxing; a knowledge probably acquired from an uncle who kept the ring at smithfield for a year, and was never beaten in boxing or wrestling. his constitutional fearlessness would have made him a formidable antagonist. hawkins describes the oak staff, six feet in length and increasing from one to three inches in diameter, which lay ready to his hand when he expected an attack from macpherson of ossian celebrity. once he is said to have taken up a chair at the theatre upon which a man had seated himself during his temporary absence, and to have tossed it and its occupant bodily into the pit. he would swim into pools said to be dangerous, beat huge dogs into peace, climb trees, and even run races and jump gates. once at least he went out foxhunting, and though he despised the amusement, was deeply touched by the complimentary assertion that he rode as well as the most illiterate fellow in england. perhaps the most whimsical of his performances was when, in his fifty-fifth year, he went to the top of a high hill with his friend langton. "i have not had a roll for a long time," said the great lexicographer suddenly, and, after deliberately emptying his pockets, he laid himself parallel to the edge of the hill, and descended, turning over and over till he came to the bottom. we may believe, as mrs. thrale remarks upon his jumping over a stool to show that he was not tired by his hunting, that his performances in this kind were so strange and uncouth that a fear for the safety of his bones quenched the spectator's tendency to laugh. in such a strange case was imprisoned one of the most vigorous intellects of the time. vast strength hampered by clumsiness and associated with grievous disease, deep and massive powers of feeling limited by narrow though acute perceptions, were characteristic both of soul and body. these peculiarities were manifested from his early infancy. miss seward, a typical specimen of the provincial _précieuse_, attempted to trace them in an epitaph which he was said to have written at the age of three. here lies good master duck whom samuel johnson trod on; if it had lived, it had been good luck, for then we had had an odd one. the verses, however, were really made by his father, who passed them off as the child's, and illustrate nothing but the paternal vanity. in fact the boy was regarded as something of an infant prodigy. his great powers of memory, characteristic of a mind singularly retentive of all impressions, were early developed. he seemed to learn by intuition. indolence, as in his after life, alternated with brief efforts of strenuous exertion. his want of sight prevented him from sharing in the ordinary childish sports; and one of his great pleasures was in reading old romances--a taste which he retained through life. boys of this temperament are generally despised by their fellows; but johnson seems to have had the power of enforcing the respect of his companions. three of the lads used to come for him in the morning and carry him in triumph to school, seated upon the shoulders of one and supported on each side by his companions. after learning to read at a dame-school, and from a certain tom brown, of whom it is only recorded that he published a spelling-book and dedicated it to the universe, young samuel was sent to the lichfield grammar school, and was afterwards, for a short time, apparently in the character of pupil-teacher, at the school of stourbridge, in worcestershire. a good deal of latin was "whipped into him," and though he complained of the excessive severity of two of his teachers, he was always a believer in the virtues of the rod. a child, he said, who is flogged, "gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas by exciting emulation and comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundations of lasting mischief; you make brothers and sisters hate each other." in practice, indeed, this stern disciplinarian seems to have been specially indulgent to children. the memory of his own sorrows made him value their happiness, and he rejoiced greatly when he at last persuaded a schoolmaster to remit the old-fashioned holiday-task. johnson left school at sixteen and spent two years at home, probably in learning his father's business. this seems to have been the chief period of his studies. long afterwards he said that he knew almost as much at eighteen as he did at the age of fifty-three--the date of the remark. his father's shop would give him many opportunities, and he devoured what came in his way with the undiscriminating eagerness of a young student. his intellectual resembled his physical appetite. he gorged books. he tore the hearts out of them, but did not study systematically. do you read books through? he asked indignantly of some one who expected from him such supererogatory labour. his memory enabled him to accumulate great stores of a desultory and unsystematic knowledge. somehow he became a fine latin scholar, though never first-rate as a grecian. the direction of his studies was partly determined by the discovery of a folio of petrarch, lying on a shelf where he was looking for apples; and one of his earliest literary plans, never carried out, was an edition of politian, with a history of latin poetry from the time of petrarch. when he went to the university at the end of this period, he was in possession of a very unusual amount of reading. meanwhile he was beginning to feel the pressure of poverty. his father's affairs were probably getting into disorder. one anecdote--it is one which it is difficult to read without emotion--refers to this period. many years afterwards, johnson, worn by disease and the hard struggle of life, was staying at lichfield, where a few old friends still survived, but in which every street must have revived the memories of the many who had long since gone over to the majority. he was missed one morning at breakfast, and did not return till supper-time. then he told how his time had been passed. on that day fifty years before, his father, confined by illness, had begged him to take his place to sell books at a stall at uttoxeter. pride made him refuse. "to do away with the sin of this disobedience, i this day went in a post-chaise to uttoxeter, and going into the market at the time of high business, uncovered my head and stood with it bare an hour before the stall which my father had formerly used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by and the inclemency of the weather; a penance by which i trust i have propitiated heaven for this only instance, i believe, of contumacy to my father." if the anecdote illustrates the touch of superstition in johnson's mind, it reveals too that sacred depth of tenderness which ennobled his character. no repentance can ever wipe out the past or make it be as though it had not been; but the remorse of a fine character may be transmuted into a permanent source of nobler views of life and the world. there are difficulties in determining the circumstances and duration of johnson's stay at oxford. he began residence at pembroke college in . it seems probable that he received some assistance from a gentleman whose son took him as companion, and from the clergy of lichfield, to whom his father was known, and who were aware of the son's talents. possibly his college assisted him during part of the time. it is certain that he left without taking a degree, though he probably resided for nearly three years. it is certain, also, that his father's bankruptcy made his stay difficult, and that the period must have been one of trial. the effect of the oxford residence upon johnson's mind was characteristic. the lad already suffered from the attacks of melancholy, which sometimes drove him to the borders of insanity. at oxford, law's _serious call_ gave him the strong religious impressions which remained through life. but he does not seem to have been regarded as a gloomy or a religious youth by his contemporaries. when told in after years that he had been described as a "gay and frolicsome fellow," he replied, "ah! sir, i was mad and violent. it was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. i was miserably poor, and i thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so i disregarded all power and all authority." though a hearty supporter of authority in principle, johnson was distinguished through life by the strongest spirit of personal independence and self-respect. he held, too, the sound doctrine, deplored by his respectable biographer hawkins, that the scholar's life, like the christian's, levelled all distinctions of rank. when an officious benefactor put a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation. he seems to have treated his tutors with a contempt which boswell politely attributed to "great fortitude of mind," but johnson himself set down as "stark insensibility." the life of a poor student is not, one may fear, even yet exempt from much bitterness, and in those days the position was far more servile than at present. the servitors and sizars had much to bear from richer companions. a proud melancholy lad, conscious of great powers, had to meet with hard rebuffs, and tried to meet them by returning scorn for scorn. such distresses, however, did not shake johnson's rooted toryism. he fully imbibed, if he did not already share, the strongest prejudices of the place, and his misery never produced a revolt against the system, though it may have fostered insolence to individuals. three of the most eminent men with whom johnson came in contact in later life, had also been students at oxford. wesley, his senior by six years, was a fellow of lincoln whilst johnson was an undergraduate, and was learning at oxford the necessity of rousing his countrymen from the religious lethargy into which they had sunk. "have not pride and haughtiness of spirit, impatience, and peevishness, sloth and indolence, gluttony and sensuality, and even a proverbial uselessness been objected to us, perhaps not always by our enemies nor wholly without ground?" so said wesley, preaching before the university of oxford in , and the words in his mouth imply more than the preacher's formality. adam smith, johnson's junior by fourteen years, was so impressed by the utter indifference of oxford authorities to their duties, as to find in it an admirable illustration of the consequences of the neglect of the true principles of supply and demand implied in the endowment of learning. gibbon, his junior by twenty-eight years, passed at oxford the "most idle and unprofitable" months of his whole life; and was, he said, as willing to disclaim the university for a mother, as she could be to renounce him for a son. oxford, as judged by these men, was remarkable as an illustration of the spiritual and intellectual decadence of a body which at other times has been a centre of great movements of thought. johnson, though his experience was rougher than any of the three, loved oxford as though she had not been a harsh stepmother to his youth. sir, he said fondly of his college, "we are a nest of singing-birds." most of the strains are now pretty well forgotten, and some of them must at all times have been such as we scarcely associate with the nightingale. johnson, however, cherished his college friendships, delighted in paying visits to his old university, and was deeply touched by the academical honours by which oxford long afterwards recognized an eminence scarcely fostered by its protection. far from sharing the doctrines of adam smith, he only regretted that the universities were not richer, and expressed a desire which will be understood by advocates of the "endowment of research," that there were many places of a thousand a year at oxford. on leaving the university, in , the world was all before him. his father died in the end of the year, and johnson's whole immediate inheritance was twenty pounds. where was he to turn for daily bread? even in those days, most gates were barred with gold and opened but to golden keys. the greatest chance for a poor man was probably through the church. the career of warburton, who rose from a similar position to a bishopric might have been rivalled by johnson, and his connexions with lichfield might, one would suppose, have helped him to a start. it would be easy to speculate upon causes which might have hindered such a career. in later life, he more than once refused to take orders upon the promise of a living. johnson, as we know him, was a man of the world; though a religious man of the world. he represents the secular rather than the ecclesiastical type. so far as his mode of teaching goes, he is rather a disciple of socrates than of st. paul or wesley. according to him, a "tavern-chair" was "the throne of human felicity," and supplied a better arena than the pulpit for the utterance of his message to mankind. and, though his external circumstances doubtless determined his method, there was much in his character which made it congenial. johnson's religious emotions were such as to make habitual reserve almost a sanitary necessity. they were deeply coloured by his constitutional melancholy. fear of death and hell were prominent in his personal creed. to trade upon his feelings like a charlatan would have been abhorrent to his masculine character; and to give them full and frequent utterance like a genuine teacher of mankind would have been to imperil his sanity. if he had gone through the excitement of a methodist conversion, he would probably have ended his days in a madhouse. such considerations, however, were not, one may guess, distinctly present to johnson himself; and the offer of a college fellowship or of private patronage might probably have altered his career. he might have become a learned recluse or a struggling parson adams. college fellowships were less open to talent then than now, and patrons were never too propitious to the uncouth giant, who had to force his way by sheer labour, and fight for his own hand. accordingly, the young scholar tried to coin his brains into money by the most depressing and least hopeful of employments. by becoming an usher in a school, he could at least turn his talents to account with little delay, and that was the most pressing consideration. by one schoolmaster he was rejected on the ground that his infirmities would excite the ridicule of the boys. under another he passed some months of "complicated misery," and could never think of the school without horror and aversion. finding this situation intolerable, he settled in birmingham, in , to be near an old schoolfellow, named hector, who was apparently beginning to practise as a surgeon. johnson seems to have had some acquaintances among the comfortable families in the neighbourhood; but his means of living are obscure. some small literary work came in his way. he contributed essays to a local paper, and translated a book of travels in abyssinia. for this, his first publication, he received five guineas. in he made certain overtures to cave, a london publisher, of the result of which i shall have to speak presently. for the present it is pretty clear that the great problem of self-support had been very inadequately solved. having no money and no prospects, johnson naturally married. the attractions of the lady were not very manifest to others than her husband. she was the widow of a birmingham mercer named porter. her age at the time ( ) of the second marriage was forty-eight, the bridegroom being not quite twenty-six. the biographer's eye was not fixed upon johnson till after his wife's death, and we have little in the way of authentic description of her person and character. garrick, who had known her, said that she was very fat, with cheeks coloured both by paint and cordials, flimsy and fantastic in dress and affected in her manners. she is said to have treated her husband with some contempt, adopting the airs of an antiquated beauty, which he returned by elaborate deference. garrick used his wonderful powers of mimicry to make fun of the uncouth caresses of the husband, and the courtly beauclerc used to provoke the smiles of his audience by repeating johnson's assertion that "it was a love-match on both sides." one incident of the wedding-day was ominous. as the newly-married couple rode back from church, mrs. johnson showed her spirit by reproaching her husband for riding too fast, and then for lagging behind. resolved "not to be made the slave of caprice," he pushed on briskly till he was fairly out of sight. when she rejoined him, as he, of course, took care that she should soon do, she was in tears. mrs. johnson apparently knew how to regain supremacy; but, at any rate, johnson loved her devotedly during life, and clung to her memory during a widowhood of more than thirty years, as fondly as if they had been the most pattern hero and heroine of romantic fiction. whatever mrs. johnson's charms, she seems to have been a woman of good sense and some literary judgment. johnson's grotesque appearance did not prevent her from saying to her daughter on their first introduction, "this is the most sensible man i ever met." her praises were, we may believe, sweeter to him than those of the severest critics, or the most fervent of personal flatterers. like all good men, johnson loved good women, and liked to have on hand a flirtation or two, as warm as might be within the bounds of due decorum. but nothing affected his fidelity to his letty or displaced her image in his mind. he remembered her in many solemn prayers, and such words as "this was dear letty's book:" or, "this was a prayer which dear letty was accustomed to say," were found written by him in many of her books of devotion. mrs. johnson had one other recommendation--a fortune, namely, of £ --little enough, even then, as a provision for the support of the married pair, but enough to help johnson to make a fresh start. in , there appeared an advertisement in the _gentleman's magazine_. "at edial, near lichfield, in staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded and taught the latin and greek languages by samuel johnson." if, as seems probable, mrs. johnson's money supplied the funds for this venture, it was an unlucky speculation. johnson was not fitted to be a pedagogue. success in that profession implies skill in the management of pupils, but perhaps still more decidedly in the management of parents. johnson had little qualifications in either way. as a teacher he would probably have been alternately despotic and over-indulgent; and, on the other hand, at a single glance the rough dominie sampson would be enough to frighten the ordinary parent off his premises. very few pupils came, and they seem to have profited little, if a story as told of two of his pupils refers to this time. after some months of instruction in english history, he asked them who had destroyed the monasteries? one of them gave no answer; the other replied "jesus christ." johnson, however, could boast of one eminent pupil in david garrick, though, by garrick's account, his master was of little service except as affording an excellent mark for his early powers of ridicule. the school, or "academy," failed after a year and a half; and johnson, once more at a loss for employment, resolved to try the great experiment, made so often and so often unsuccessfully. he left lichfield to seek his fortune in london. garrick accompanied him, and the two brought a common letter of introduction to the master of an academy from gilbert walmsley, registrar of the prerogative court in lichfield. long afterwards johnson took an opportunity in the _lives of the poets_, of expressing his warm regard for the memory of his early friend, to whom he had been recommended by a community of literary tastes, in spite of party differences and great inequality of age. walmsley says in his letter, that "one johnson" is about to accompany garrick to london, in order to try his fate with a tragedy and get himself employed in translation. johnson, he adds, "is a very good scholar and poet, and i have great hopes will turn out a fine tragedy writer." the letter is dated march nd, . before recording what is known of his early career thus started, it will be well to take a glance at the general condition of the profession of literature in england at this period. chapter ii. literary career. "no man but a blockhead," said johnson, "ever wrote except for money." the doctrine is, of course, perfectly outrageous, and specially calculated to shock people who like to keep it for their private use, instead of proclaiming it in public. but it is a good expression of that huge contempt for the foppery of high-flown sentiment which, as is not uncommon with johnson, passes into something which would be cynical if it were not half-humorous. in this case it implies also the contempt of the professional for the amateur. johnson despised gentlemen who dabbled in his craft, as a man whose life is devoted to music or painting despises the ladies and gentlemen who treat those arts as fashionable accomplishments. an author was, according to him, a man who turned out books as a bricklayer turns out houses or a tailor coats. so long as he supplied a good article and got a fair price, he was a fool to grumble, and a humbug to affect loftier motives. johnson was not the first professional author, in this sense, but perhaps the first man who made the profession respectable. the principal habitat of authors, in his age, was grub street--a region which, in later years, has ceased to be ashamed of itself, and has adopted the more pretentious name bohemia. the original grub street, it is said, first became associated with authorship during the increase of pamphlet literature, produced by the civil wars. fox, the martyrologist, was one of its original inhabitants. another of its heroes was a certain mr. welby, of whom the sole record is, that he "lived there forty years without being seen of any." in fact, it was a region of holes and corners, calculated to illustrate that great advantage of london life, which a friend of boswell's described by saying, that a man could there be always "close to his burrow." the "burrow" which received the luckless wight, was indeed no pleasant refuge. since poor green, in the earliest generation of dramatists, bought his "groat'sworth of wit with a million of repentance," too many of his brethren had trodden the path which led to hopeless misery or death in a tavern brawl. the history of men who had to support themselves by their pens, is a record of almost universal gloom. the names of spenser, of butler, and of otway, are enough to remind us that even warm contemporary recognition was not enough to raise an author above the fear of dying in want of necessaries. the two great dictators of literature, ben jonson in the earlier and dryden in the later part of the century, only kept their heads above water by help of the laureate's pittance, though reckless imprudence, encouraged by the precarious life, was the cause of much of their sufferings. patronage gave but a fitful resource, and the author could hope at most but an occasional crust, flung to him from better provided tables. in the happy days of queen anne, it is true, there had been a gleam of prosperity. many authors, addison, congreve, swift, and others of less name, had won by their pens not only temporary profits but permanent places. the class which came into power at the revolution was willing for a time, to share some of the public patronage with men distinguished for intellectual eminence. patronage was liberal when the funds came out of other men's pockets. but, as the system of party government developed, it soon became evident that this involved a waste of power. there were enough political partisans to absorb all the comfortable sinecures to be had; and such money as was still spent upon literature, was given in return for services equally degrading to giver and receiver. nor did the patronage of literature reach the poor inhabitants of grub street. addison's poetical power might suggest or justify the gift of a place from his elegant friends; but a man like de foe, who really looked to his pen for great part of his daily subsistence, was below the region of such prizes, and was obliged in later years not only to write inferior books for money, but to sell himself and act as a spy upon his fellows. one great man, it is true, made an independence by literature. pope received some £ for his translation of homer, by the then popular mode of subscription--a kind of compromise between the systems of patronage and public support. but his success caused little pleasure in grub street. no love was lost between the poet and the dwellers in this dismal region. pope was its deadliest enemy, and carried on an internecine warfare with its inmates, which has enriched our language with a great satire, but which wasted his powers upon low objects, and tempted him into disgraceful artifices. the life of the unfortunate victims, pilloried in the _dunciad_ and accused of the unpardonable sins of poverty and dependence, was too often one which might have extorted sympathy even from a thin-skinned poet and critic. illustrations of the manners and customs of that grub street of which johnson was to become an inmate are only too abundant. the best writers of the day could tell of hardships endured in that dismal region. richardson went on the sound principle of keeping his shop that his shop might keep him. but the other great novelists of the century have painted from life the miseries of an author's existence. fielding, smollett, and goldsmith have described the poor wretches with a vivid force which gives sadness to the reflection that each of those great men was drawing upon his own experience, and that they each died in distress. the _case of authors by profession_ to quote the title of a pamphlet by ralph, was indeed a wretched one, when the greatest of their number had an incessant struggle to keep the wolf from the door. the life of an author resembled the proverbial existence of the flying-fish, chased by enemies in sea and in air; he only escaped from the slavery of the bookseller's garret, to fly from the bailiff or rot in the debtor's ward or the spunging-house. many strange half-pathetic and half-ludicrous anecdotes survive to recall the sorrows and the recklessness of the luckless scribblers who, like one of johnson's acquaintance, "lived in london and hung loose upon society." there was samuel boyse, for example, whose poem on the _deity_ is quoted with high praise by fielding. once johnson had generously exerted himself for his comrade in misery, and collected enough money by sixpences to get the poet's clothes out of pawn. two days afterwards, boyse had spent the money and was found in bed, covered only with a blanket, through two holes in which he passed his arms to write. boyse, it appears, when still in this position would lay out his last half-guinea to buy truffles and mushrooms for his last scrap of beef. of another scribbler johnson said, "i honour derrick for his strength of mind. one night when floyd (another poor author) was wandering about the streets at night, he found derrick fast asleep upon a bulk. upon being suddenly awaked, derrick started up; 'my dear floyd, i am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to my _lodgings_?'" authors in such circumstances might be forced into such a wonderful contract as that which is reported to have been drawn up by one gardner with rolt and christopher smart. they were to write a monthly miscellany, sold at sixpence, and to have a third of the profits; but they were to write nothing else, and the contract was to last for ninety-nine years. johnson himself summed up the trade upon earth by the lines in which virgil describes the entrance to hell; thus translated by dryden:-- just in the gate and in the jaws of hell, revengeful cares and sullen sorrows dwell. and pale diseases and repining age, want, fear, and famine's unresisted rage: here toils and death and death's half-brother, sleep-- forms, terrible to view, their sentry keep. "now," said johnson, "almost all these apply exactly to an author; these are the concomitants of a printing-house." judicious authors, indeed, were learning how to make literature pay. some of them belonged to the class who understood the great truth that the scissors are a very superior implement to the pen considered as a tool of literary trade. such, for example, was that respectable dr. john campbell, whose parties johnson ceased to frequent lest scotchmen should say of any good bits of work, "ay, ay, he has learnt this of cawmell." campbell, he said quaintly, was a good man, a pious man. "i am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years; but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat. this shows he has good principles,"--of which in fact there seems to be some less questionable evidence. campbell supported himself by writings chiefly of the encyclopedia or gazetteer kind; and became, still in johnson's phrase, "the richest author that ever grazed the common of literature." a more singular and less reputable character was that impudent quack, sir john hill, who, with his insolent attacks upon the royal society, pretentious botanical and medical compilations, plays, novels, and magazine articles, has long sunk into utter oblivion. it is said of him that he pursued every branch of literary quackery with greater contempt of character than any man of his time, and that he made as much as £ in a year;--three times as much, it is added, as any one writer ever made in the same period. the political scribblers--the arnalls, gordons, trenchards, guthries, ralphs, and amhersts, whose names meet us in the notes to the _dunciad_ and in contemporary pamphlets and newspapers--form another variety of the class. their general character may be estimated from johnson's classification of the "scribbler for a party" with the "commissioner of excise," as the "two lowest of all human beings." "ralph," says one of the notes to the _dunciad_, "ended in the common sink of all such writers, a political newspaper." the prejudice against such employment has scarcely died out in our own day, and may be still traced in the account of pendennis and his friend warrington. people who do dirty work must be paid for it; and the secret committee which inquired into walpole's administration reported that in ten years, from to , a sum of £ , _s_. had been paid to writers and printers of newspapers. arnall, now remembered chiefly by pope's line,-- spirit of arnall, aid me whilst i lie! had received, in four years, £ , _s_. _d_. of this amount. the more successful writers might look to pensions or preferment. francis, for example, the translator of horace, and the father, in all probability, of the most formidable of the whole tribe of such literary gladiators, received, it is said, _l_. a year for his work, besides being appointed to a rectory and the chaplaincy of chelsea. it must, moreover, be observed that the price of literary work was rising during the century, and that, in the latter half, considerable sums were received by successful writers. religious as well as dramatic literature had begun to be commercially valuable. baxter, in the previous century, made from _l_. to _l_. a year by his pen. the copyright of tillotson's _sermons_ was sold, it is said, upon his death for £ . considerable sums were made by the plan of publishing by subscription. it is said that people subscribed to the two posthumous volumes of conybeare's _sermons_. a few poets trod in pope's steps. young made more than £ for the satires called the _universal passion_, published, i think, on the same plan; and the duke of wharton is said, though the report is doubtful, to have given him £ for the same work. gay made £ by his _poems_; £ for the copyright of the _beggar's opera_, and three times as much for its second part, _polly_. among historians, hume seems to have received £ a volume; smollett made £ by his catchpenny rival publication; henry made £ by his history; and robertson, after the booksellers had made £ by his _history of scotland_, sold his _charles v._ for £ . amongst the novelists, fielding received £ for _tom jones_ and £ for _amelia_; sterne, for the second edition of the first part of _tristram shandy_ and for two additional volumes, received £ ; besides which lord fauconberg gave him a living (most inappropriate acknowledgment, one would say!), and warburton a purse of gold. goldsmith received guineas for the immortal _vicar_, a fair price, according to johnson, for a work by a then unknown author. by each of his plays he made about £ , and for the eight volumes of his _natural history_ he received guineas. towards the end of the century, mrs. radcliffe got £ for the _mysteries of udolpho_, and £ for her last work, the _italian_. perhaps the largest sum given for a single book was £ paid to hawkesworth for his account of the south sea expeditions. horne tooke received from £ to £ for the _diversions of purley_; and it is added by his biographer, though it seems to be incredible, that hayley received no less than £ , for the _life of cowper_. this was, of course, in the present century, when we are already approaching the period of scott and byron. such sums prove that some few authors might achieve independence by a successful work; and it is well to remember them in considering johnson's life from the business point of view. though he never grumbled at the booksellers, and on the contrary, was always ready to defend them as liberal men, he certainly failed, whether from carelessness or want of skill, to turn them to as much profit as many less celebrated rivals. meanwhile, pecuniary success of this kind was beyond any reasonable hopes. a man who has to work like his own dependent levett, and to make the "modest toil of every day" supply "the wants of every day," must discount his talents until he can secure leisure for some more sustained effort. johnson, coming up from the country to seek for work, could have but a slender prospect of rising above the ordinary level of his grub street companions and rivals. one publisher to whom he applied suggested to him that it would be his wisest course to buy a porter's knot and carry trunks; and, in the struggle which followed, johnson must sometimes have been tempted to regret that the advice was not taken. the details of the ordeal through which he was now to pass have naturally vanished. johnson, long afterwards, burst into tears on recalling the trials of this period. but, at the time, no one was interested in noting the history of an obscure literary drudge, and it has not been described by the sufferer himself. what we know is derived from a few letters and incidental references of johnson in later days. on first arriving in london he was almost destitute, and had to join with garrick in raising a loan of five pounds, which, we are glad to say, was repaid. he dined for eightpence at an ordinary: a cut of meat for sixpence, bread for a penny, and a penny to the waiter, making out the charge. one of his acquaintance had told him that a man might live in london for thirty pounds a year. ten pounds would pay for clothes; a garret might be hired for eighteen-pence a week; if any one asked for an address, it was easy to reply, "i am to be found at such a place." threepence laid out at a coffee-house would enable him to pass some hours a day in good company; dinner might be had for sixpence, a bread-and-milk breakfast for a penny, and supper was superfluous. on clean shirt day you might go abroad and pay visits. this leaves a surplus of nearly one pound from the thirty. johnson, however, had a wife to support; and to raise funds for even so ascetic a mode of existence required steady labour. often, it seems, his purse was at the very lowest ebb. one of his letters to his employer is signed _impransus_; and whether or not the dinnerless condition was in this case accidental, or significant of absolute impecuniosity, the less pleasant interpretation is not improbable. he would walk the streets all night with his friend, savage, when their combined funds could not pay for a lodging. one night, as he told sir joshua reynolds in later years, they thus perambulated st. james's square, warming themselves by declaiming against walpole, and nobly resolved that they would stand by their country. patriotic enthusiasm, however, as no one knew better than johnson, is a poor substitute for bed and supper. johnson suffered acutely and made some attempts to escape from his misery. to the end of his life, he was grateful to those who had lent him a helping hand. "harry hervey," he said of one of them shortly before his death, "was a vicious man, but very kind to me. if you call a dog hervey, i shall love him." pope was impressed by the excellence of his first poem, _london_, and induced lord gower to write to a friend to beg swift to obtain a degree for johnson from the university of dublin. the terms of this circuitous application, curious, as bringing into connexion three of the most eminent men of letters of the day, prove that the youngest of them was at the time ( ) in deep distress. the object of the degree was to qualify johnson for a mastership of £ a year, which would make him happy for life. he would rather, said lord gower, die upon the road to dublin if an examination were necessary, "than be starved to death in translating for booksellers, which has been his only subsistence for some time past." the application failed, however, and the want of a degree was equally fatal to another application to be admitted to practise at doctor's commons. literature was thus perforce johnson's sole support; and by literature was meant, for the most part, drudgery of the kind indicated by the phrase, "translating for booksellers." while still in lichfield, johnson had, as i have said, written to cave, proposing to become a contributor to the _gentleman's magazine_. the letter was one of those which a modern editor receives by the dozen, and answers as perfunctorily as his conscience will allow. it seems, however, to have made some impression upon cave, and possibly led to johnson's employment by him on his first arrival in london. from he was employed both on the magazine and in some jobs of translation. edward cave, to whom we are thus introduced, was a man of some mark in the history of literature. johnson always spoke of him with affection and afterwards wrote his life in complimentary terms. cave, though a clumsy, phlegmatic person of little cultivation, seems to have been one of those men who, whilst destitute of real critical powers, have a certain instinct for recognizing the commercial value of literary wares. he had become by this time well-known as the publisher of a magazine which survives to this day. journals containing summaries of passing events had already been started. boyer's _political state of great britain_ began in . _the historical register_, which added to a chronicle some literary notices, was started in . _the grub street journal_ was another journal with fuller critical notices, which first appeared in ; and these two seem to have been superseded by the _gentleman's magazine_, started by cave in the next year. johnson saw in it an opening for the employment of his literary talents; and regarded its contributions with that awe so natural in youthful aspirants, and at once so comic and pathetic to writers of a little experience. the names of many of cave's staff are preserved in a note to hawkins. one or two of them, such as birch and akenside, have still a certain interest for students of literature; but few have heard of the great moses browne, who was regarded as the great poetical light of the magazine. johnson looked up to him as a leader in his craft, and was graciously taken by cave to an alehouse in clerkenwell, where, wrapped in a horseman's coat, and "a great bushy uncombed wig," he saw mr. browne sitting at the end of a long table, in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, and felt the satisfaction of a true hero-worshipper. it is needless to describe in detail the literary task-work done by johnson at this period, the latin poems which he contributed in praise of cave, and of cave's friends, or the jacobite squibs by which he relieved his anti-ministerialist feelings. one incident of the period doubtless refreshed the soul of many authors, who have shared campbell's gratitude to napoleon for the sole redeeming action of his life--the shooting of a bookseller. johnson was employed by osborne, a rough specimen of the trade, to make a catalogue of the harleian library. osborne offensively reproved him for negligence, and johnson knocked him down with a folio. the book with which the feat was performed (_biblia graeca septuaginta, fol._ , frankfort) was in existence in a bookseller's shop at cambridge in , and should surely have been placed in some safe author's museum. the most remarkable of johnson's performances as a hack writer deserves a brief notice. he was one of the first of reporters. cave published such reports of the debates in parliament as were then allowed by the jealousy of the legislature, under the title of _the senate of lilliput_. johnson was the author of the debates from nov. to february . persons were employed to attend in the two houses, who brought home notes of the speeches, which were then put into shape by johnson. long afterwards, at a dinner at foote's, francis (the father of junius) mentioned a speech of pitt's as the best he had ever read, and superior to anything in demosthenes. hereupon johnson replied, "i wrote that speech in a garret in exeter street." when the company applauded not only his eloquence but his impartiality, johnson replied, "that is not quite true; i saved appearances tolerably well, but i took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it." the speeches passed for a time as accurate; though, in truth, it has been proved and it is easy to observe, that they are, in fact, very vague reflections of the original. the editors of chesterfield's works published two of the speeches, and, to johnson's considerable amusement, declared that one of them resembled demosthenes and the other cicero. it is plain enough to the modern reader that, if so, both of the ancient orators must have written true johnsonese; and, in fact, the style of the true author is often as plainly marked in many of these compositions as in the _rambler_ or _rasselas_. for this deception, such as it was, johnson expressed penitence at the end of his life, though he said that he had ceased to write when he found that they were taken as genuine. he would not be "accessory to the propagation of falsehood." another of johnson's works which appeared in requires notice both for its intrinsic merit, and its autobiographical interest. the most remarkable of his grub-street companions was the richard savage already mentioned. johnson's life of him written soon after his death is one of his most forcible performances, and the best extant illustration of the life of the struggling authors of the time. savage claimed to be the illegitimate son of the countess of macclesfield, who was divorced from her husband in the year of his birth on account of her connexion with his supposed father, lord rivers. according to the story, believed by johnson, and published without her contradiction in the mother's lifetime, she not only disavowed her son, but cherished an unnatural hatred for him. she told his father that he was dead, in order that he might not be benefited by the father's will; she tried to have him kidnapped and sent to the plantations; and she did her best to prevent him from receiving a pardon when he had been sentenced to death for killing a man in a tavern brawl. however this may be, and there are reasons for doubt, the story was generally believed, and caused much sympathy for the supposed victim. savage was at one time protected by the kindness of steele, who published his story, and sometimes employed him as a literary assistant. when steele became disgusted with him, he received generous help from the actor wilks and from mrs. oldfield, to whom he had been introduced by some dramatic efforts. then he was taken up by lord tyrconnel, but abandoned by him after a violent quarrel; he afterwards called himself a volunteer laureate, and received a pension of _l_. a year from queen caroline; on her death he was thrown into deep distress, and helped by a subscription to which pope was the chief contributor, on condition of retiring to the country. ultimately he quarrelled with his last protectors, and ended by dying in a debtor's prison. various poetical works, now utterly forgotten, obtained for him scanty profit. this career sufficiently reveals the character. savage belonged to the very common type of men, who seem to employ their whole talents to throw away their chances in life, and to disgust every one who offers them a helping hand. he was, however, a man of some talent, though his poems are now hopelessly unreadable, and seems to have had a singular attraction for johnson. the biography is curiously marked by johnson's constant effort to put the best face upon faults, which he has too much love of truth to conceal. the explanation is, partly, that johnson conceived himself to be avenging a victim of cruel oppression. "this mother," he says, after recording her vindictiveness, "is still alive, and may perhaps even yet, though her malice was often defeated, enjoy the pleasure of reflecting that the life, which she often endeavoured to destroy, was at last shortened by her maternal offices; that though she could not transport her son to the plantations, bury him in the shop of a mechanic, or hasten the hand of the public executioner, she has yet had the satisfaction of embittering all his hours, and forcing him into exigencies that hurried on his death." but it is also probable that savage had a strong influence upon johnson's mind at a very impressible part of his career. the young man, still ignorant of life and full of reverent enthusiasm for the literary magnates of his time, was impressed by the varied experience of his companion, and, it may be, flattered by his intimacy. savage, he says admiringly, had enjoyed great opportunities of seeing the most conspicuous men of the day in their private life. he was shrewd and inquisitive enough to use his opportunities well. "more circumstances to constitute a critic on human life could not easily concur." the only phrase which survives to justify this remark is savage's statement about walpole, that "the whole range of his mind was from obscenity to politics, and from politics to obscenity." we may, however, guess what was the special charm of the intercourse to johnson. savage was an expert in that science of human nature, learnt from experience not from books, upon which johnson set so high a value, and of which he was destined to become the authorized expositor. there were, moreover, resemblances between the two men. they were both admired and sought out for their conversational powers. savage, indeed, seems to have lived chiefly by the people who entertained him for talk, till he had disgusted them by his insolence and his utter disregard of time and propriety. he would, like johnson, sit up talking beyond midnight, and next day decline to rise till dinner-time, though his favourite drink was not, like johnson's, free from intoxicating properties. both of them had a lofty pride, which johnson heartily commends in savage, though he has difficulty in palliating some of its manifestations. one of the stories reminds us of an anecdote already related of johnson himself. some clothes had been left for savage at a coffee-house by a person who, out of delicacy, concealed his name. savage, however, resented some want of ceremony, and refused to enter the house again till the clothes had been removed. what was honourable pride in johnson was, indeed, simple arrogance in savage. he asked favours, his biographer says, without submission, and resented refusal as an insult. he had too much pride to acknowledge, not not too much to receive, obligations; enough to quarrel with his charitable benefactors, but not enough to make him rise to independence of their charity. his pension would have sufficed to keep him, only that as soon as he received it he retired from the sight of all his acquaintance, and came back before long as penniless as before. this conduct, observes his biographer, was "very particular." it was hardly so singular as objectionable; and we are not surprised to be told that he was rather a "friend of goodness" than himself a good man. in short, we may say of him as beauclerk said of a friend of boswell's that, if he had excellent principles, he did not wear them out in practice. there is something quaint about this picture of a thorough-paced scamp, admiringly painted by a virtuous man; forced, in spite of himself, to make it a likeness, and striving in vain to make it attractive. but it is also pathetic when we remember that johnson shared some part at least of his hero's miseries. "on a bulk, in a cellar, or in a glass-house, among thieves and beggars, was to be found the author of _the wanderer_, the man of exalted sentiments, extensive views, and curious observations; the man whose remarks on life might have assisted the statesman, whose ideas of virtue might have enlightened the moralist, whose eloquence might have influenced senators, and whose delicacy might have polished courts." very shocking, no doubt, and yet hardly surprising under the circumstances! to us it is more interesting to remember that the author of the _rambler_ was not only a sympathizer, but a fellow-sufferer with the author of the _wanderer_, and shared the queer "lodgings" of his friend, as floyd shared the lodgings of derrick. johnson happily came unscathed through the ordeal which was too much for poor savage, and could boast with perfect truth in later life that "no man, who ever lived by literature, had lived more independently than i have done." it was in so strange a school, and under such questionable teaching that johnson formed his character of the world and of the conduct befitting its inmates. one characteristic conclusion is indicated in the opening passage of the life. it has always been observed, he says, that men eminent by nature or fortune are not generally happy: "whether it be that apparent superiority incites great designs, and great designs are naturally liable to fatal miscarriages; or that the general lot of mankind is misery, and the misfortunes of those, whose eminence drew upon them an universal attention, have been more carefully recorded because they were more generally observed, and have in reality been only more conspicuous than those of others, not more frequent or more severe." the last explanation was that which really commended itself to johnson. nobody had better reason to know that obscurity might conceal a misery as bitter as any that fell to the lot of the most eminent. the gloom due to his constitutional temperament was intensified by the sense that he and his wife were dependent upon the goodwill of a narrow and ignorant tradesman for the scantiest maintenance. how was he to reach some solid standing-ground above the hopeless mire of grub street? as a journeyman author he could make both ends meet, but only on condition of incessant labour. illness and misfortune would mean constant dependence upon charity or bondage to creditors. to get ahead of the world it was necessary to distinguish himself in some way from the herd of needy competitors. he had come up from lichfield with a play in his pocket, but the play did not seem at present to have much chance of emerging. meanwhile he published a poem which did something to give him a general reputation. _london_--an imitation of the third satire of juvenal--was published in may, . the plan was doubtless suggested by pope's imitations of horace, which had recently appeared. though necessarily following the lines of juvenal's poem, and conforming to the conventional fashion of the time, both in sentiment and versification, the poem has a biographical significance. it is indeed odd to find johnson, who afterwards thought of london as a lover of his mistress, and who despised nothing more heartily than the cant of rousseau and the sentimentalists, adopting in this poem the ordinary denunciations of the corruption of towns, and singing the praises of an innocent country life. doubtless, the young writer was like other young men, taking up a strain still imitative and artificial. he has a quiet smile at savage in the life, because in his retreat to wales, that enthusiast declared that he "could not debar himself from the happiness which was to be found in the calm of a cottage, or lose the opportunity of listening without intermission to the melody of the nightingale, which he believed was to be heard from every bramble, and which he did not fail to mention as a very important part of the happiness of a country life." in _london_, this insincere cockney adopts savage's view. thales, who is generally supposed to represent savage (and this coincidence seems to confirm the opinion), is to retire "from the dungeons of the strand," and to end a healthy life in pruning walks and twining bowers in his garden. there every bush with nature's music rings, there every breeze bears health upon its wings. johnson had not yet learnt the value of perfect sincerity even in poetry. but it must also be admitted that london, as seen by the poor drudge from a grub street garret, probably presented a prospect gloomy enough to make even johnson long at times for rural solitude. the poem reflects, too, the ordinary talk of the heterogeneous band of patriots, jacobites, and disappointed whigs, who were beginning to gather enough strength to threaten walpole's long tenure of power. many references to contemporary politics illustrate johnson's sympathy with the inhabitants of the contemporary cave of adullam. this poem, as already stated, attracted pope's notice, who made a curious note on a scrap of paper sent with it to a friend. johnson is described as "a man afflicted with an infirmity of the convulsive kind, that attacks him sometimes so as to make him a sad spectacle." this seems to have been the chief information obtained by pope about the anonymous author, of whom he had said, on first reading the poem, this man will soon be _déterré_. _london_ made a certain noise; it reached a second edition in a week, and attracted various patrons, among others, general oglethorpe, celebrated by pope, and through a long life the warm friend of johnson. one line, however, in the poem printed in capital letters, gives the moral which was doubtless most deeply felt by the author, and which did not lose its meaning in the years to come. this mournful truth, he says,-- is everywhere confess'd, slow rises worth by poverty depress'd. ten years later (in january, ) appeared the _vanity of human wishes_, an imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal. the difference in tone shows how deeply this and similar truths had been impressed upon its author in the interval. though still an imitation, it is as significant as the most original work could be of johnson's settled views of life. it was written at a white heat, as indeed johnson wrote all his best work. its strong stoical morality, its profound and melancholy illustrations of the old and ever new sentiment, _vanitas vanitatum_, make it perhaps the most impressive poem of the kind in the language. the lines on the scholar's fate show that the iron had entered his soul in the interval. should the scholar succeed beyond expectation in his labours and escape melancholy and disease, yet, he says,-- yet hope not life from grief and danger free, nor think the doom of man reversed on thee; deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes and pause awhile from letters, to be wise; there mark what ills the scholar's life assail, toil, envy, want, the patron and the jail; see nations, slowly wise and meanly just, to buried merit raise the tardy bust. if dreams yet flatter, once again attend. hear lydiat's life and galileo's end. for the "patron," johnson had originally written the "garret." the change was made after an experience of patronage to be presently described in connexion with the _dictionary_. for _london_ johnson received ten guineas, and for the _vanity of human wishes_ fifteen. though indirectly valuable, as increasing his reputation, such work was not very profitable. the most promising career in a pecuniary sense was still to be found on the stage. novelists were not yet the rivals of dramatists, and many authors had made enough by a successful play to float them through a year or two. johnson had probably been determined by his knowledge of this fact to write the tragedy of _irene_. no other excuse at least can be given for the composition of one of the heaviest and most unreadable of dramatic performances, interesting now, if interesting at all, solely as a curious example of the result of bestowing great powers upon a totally uncongenial task. young men, however, may be pardoned for such blunders if they are not repeated, and johnson, though he seems to have retained a fondness for his unlucky performance, never indulged in play writing after leaving lichfield. the best thing connected with the play was johnson's retort to his friend walmsley, the lichfield registrar. "how," asked walmsley, "can you contrive to plunge your heroine into deeper calamity?" "sir," said johnson, "i can put her into the spiritual court." even boswell can only say for _irene_ that it is "entitled to the praise of superior excellence," and admits its entire absence of dramatic power. garrick, who had become manager of drury lane, produced his friend's work in . the play was carried through nine nights by garrick's friendly zeal, so that the author had his three nights' profits. for this he received £ _s_. and for the copy he had £ . people probably attended, as they attend modern representations of legitimate drama, rather from a sense of duty, than in the hope of pleasure. the heroine originally had to speak two lines with a bowstring round her neck. the situation produced cries of murder, and she had to go off the stage alive. the objectionable passage was removed, but _irene_ was on the whole a failure, and has never, i imagine, made another appearance. when asked how he felt upon his ill-success, he replied "like the monument," and indeed he made it a principle throughout life to accept the decision of the public like a sensible man without murmurs. meanwhile, johnson was already embarked upon an undertaking of a very different kind. in he had put forth a plan for an english dictionary, addressed at the suggestion of dodsley, to lord chesterfield, then secretary of state, and the great contemporary maecenas. johnson had apparently been maturing the scheme for some time. "i know," he says in the "plan," that "the work in which i engaged is generally considered as drudgery for the blind, as the proper toil of artless industry, a book that requires neither the light of learning nor the activity of genius, but may be successfully performed without any higher quality than that of bearing burdens with dull patience, and beating the track of the alphabet with sluggish resolution." he adds in a sub-sarcastic tone, that although princes and statesmen had once thought it honourable to patronize dictionaries, he had considered such benevolent acts to be "prodigies, recorded rather to raise wonder than expectation," and he was accordingly pleased and surprised to find that chesterfield took an interest in his undertaking. he proceeds to lay down the general principles upon which he intends to frame his work, in order to invite timely suggestions and repress unreasonable expectations. at this time, humble as his aspirations might be, he took a view of the possibilities open to him which had to be lowered before the publication of the dictionary. he shared the illusion that a language might be "fixed" by making a catalogue of its words. in the preface which appeared with the completed work, he explains very sensibly the vanity of any such expectation. whilst all human affairs are changing, it is, as he says, absurd to imagine that the language which repeats all human thoughts and feelings can remain unaltered. a dictionary, as johnson conceived it, was in fact work for a "harmless drudge," the definition of a lexicographer given in the book itself. etymology in a scientific sense was as yet non-existent, and johnson was not in this respect ahead of his contemporaries. to collect all the words in the language, to define their meanings as accurately as might be, to give the obvious or whimsical guesses at etymology suggested by previous writers, and to append a good collection of illustrative passages was the sum of his ambition. any systematic training of the historical processes by which a particular language had been developed was unknown, and of course the result could not be anticipated. the work, indeed, required a keen logical faculty of definition, and wide reading of the english literature of the two preceding centuries; but it could of course give no play either for the higher literary faculties on points of scientific investigation. a dictionary in johnson's sense was the highest kind of work to which a literary journeyman could be set, but it was still work for a journeyman, not for an artist. he was not adding to literature, but providing a useful implement for future men of letters. johnson had thus got on hand the biggest job that could be well undertaken by a good workman in his humble craft. he was to receive fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds for the whole, and he expected to finish it in three years. the money, it is to be observed, was to satisfy not only johnson but several copyists employed in the mechanical part of the work. it was advanced by instalments, and came to an end before the conclusion of the book. indeed, it appeared when accounts were settled, that he had received a hundred pounds more than was due. he could, however, pay his way for the time, and would gain a reputation enough to ensure work in future. the period of extreme poverty had probably ended when johnson got permanent employment on the _gentleman's magazine_. he was not elevated above the need of drudgery and economy, but he might at least be free from the dread of neglect. he could command his market--such as it was. the necessity of steady labour was probably unfelt in repelling his fits of melancholy. his name was beginning to be known, and men of reputation were seeking his acquaintance. in the winter of he formed a club, which met weekly at a "famous beef-steak house" in ivy lane. among its members were hawkins, afterwards his biographer, and two friends, bathurst a physician, and hawkesworth an author, for the first of whom he entertained an unusually strong affection. the club, like its more famous successor, gave johnson an opportunity of displaying and improving his great conversational powers. he was already dreaded for his prowess in argument, his dictatorial manners and vivid flashes of wit and humour, the more effective from the habitual gloom and apparent heaviness of the discourser. the talk of this society probably suggested topics for the _rambler_, which appeared at this time, and caused johnson's fame to spread further beyond the literary circles of london. the wit and humour have, indeed, left few traces upon its ponderous pages, for the _rambler_ marks the culminating period of johnson's worst qualities of style. the pompous and involved language seems indeed to be a fit clothing for the melancholy reflections which are its chief staple, and in spite of its unmistakable power it is as heavy reading as the heavy class of lay-sermonizing to which it belongs. such literature, however, is often strangely popular in england, and the _rambler_, though its circulation was limited, gave to johnson his position as a great practical moralist. he took his literary title, one may say, from the _rambler_, as the more familiar title was derived from the _dictionary_. the _rambler_ was published twice a week from march th, , to march th, . in five numbers alone he received assistance from friends, and one of these, written by richardson, is said to have been the only number which had a large sale. the circulation rarely exceeded , though ten english editions were published in the author's lifetime, besides scotch and irish editions. the payment, however, namely, two guineas a number, must have been welcome to johnson, and the friendship of many distinguished men of the time was a still more valuable reward. a quaint story illustrates the hero-worship of which johnson now became the object. dr. burney, afterwards an intimate friend, had introduced himself to johnson by letter in consequence of the _rambler_, and the plan of the _dictionary_. the admiration was shared by a friend of burney's, a mr. bewley, known--in norfolk at least--as the "philosopher of massingham." when burney at last gained the honour of a personal interview, he wished to procure some "relic" of johnson for his friend. he cut off some bristles from a hearth-broom in the doctor's chambers, and sent them in a letter to his fellow-enthusiast. long afterwards johnson was pleased to hear of this simple-minded homage, and not only sent a copy of the _lives of the poets_ to the rural philosopher, but deigned to grant him a personal interview. dearer than any such praise was the approval of johnson's wife. she told him that, well as she had thought of him before, she had not considered him equal to such a performance. the voice that so charmed him was soon to be silenced for ever. mrs. johnson died (march th, ) three days after the appearance of the last _rambler_. the man who has passed through such a trial knows well that, whatever may be in store for him in the dark future, fate can have no heavier blow in reserve. though johnson once acknowledged to boswell, when in a placid humour, that happier days had come to him in his old age than in his early life, he would probably have added that though fame and friendship and freedom from the harrowing cares of poverty might cause his life to be more equably happy, yet their rewards could represent but a faint and mocking reflection of the best moments of a happy marriage. his strong mind and tender nature reeled under the blow. here is one pathetic little note written to the friend, dr. taylor, who had come to him in his distress. that which first announced the calamity, and which, said taylor, "expressed grief in the strongest manner he had ever read," is lost. "dear sir,--let me have your company and instruction. do not live away from me. my distress is great. "pray desire mrs. taylor to inform me what mourning i should buy for my mother and miss porter, and bring a note in writing with you. "remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man. "i am, dear sir, "sam. johnson." we need not regret that a veil is drawn over the details of the bitter agony of his passage through the valley of the shadow of death. it is enough to put down the wails which he wrote long afterwards when visibly approaching the close of all human emotions and interests:-- "this is the day on which, in , dear letty died. i have now uttered a prayer of repentance and contrition; perhaps letty knows that i prayed for her. perhaps letty is now praying for me. god help me. thou, god, art merciful, hear my prayers and enable me to trust in thee. "we were married almost seventeen years, and have now been parted thirty." it seems half profane, even at this distance of time, to pry into grief so deep and so lasting. johnson turned for relief to that which all sufferers know to be the only remedy for sorrow--hard labour. he set to work in his garret, an inconvenient room, "because," he said, "in that room only i never saw mrs. johnson." he helped his friend hawkesworth in the _adventurer_, a new periodical of the _rambler_ kind; but his main work was the _dictionary_, which came out at last in . its appearance was the occasion of an explosion of wrath which marks an epoch in our literature. johnson, as we have seen, had dedicated the plan to lord chesterfield; and his language implies that they had been to some extent in personal communication. chesterfield's fame is in curious antithesis to johnson's. he was a man of great abilities, and seems to have deserved high credit for some parts of his statesmanship. as a viceroy in ireland in particular he showed qualities rare in his generation. to johnson he was known as the nobleman who had a wide social influence as an acknowledged _arbiter elegantiarum_, and who reckoned among his claims some of that literary polish in which the earlier generation of nobles had certainly been superior to their successors. the art of life expounded in his _letters_ differs from johnson as much as the elegant diplomatist differs from the rough intellectual gladiator of grub street. johnson spoke his mind of his rival without reserve. "i thought," he said, "that this man had been a lord among wits; but i find he is only a wit among lords." and of the _letters_ he said more keenly that they taught the morals of a harlot and the manners of a dancing-master. chesterfield's opinion of johnson is indicated by the description in his _letters_ of a "respectable hottentot, who throws his meat anywhere but down his throat. this absurd person," said chesterfield, "was not only uncouth in manners and warm in dispute, but behaved exactly in the same way to superiors, equals, and inferiors; and therefore, by a necessary consequence, absurdly to two of the three. _hinc illae lacrymae!_" johnson, in my opinion, was not far wrong in his judgment, though it would be a gross injustice to regard chesterfield as nothing but a fribble. but men representing two such antithetic types were not likely to admire each other's good qualities. whatever had been the intercourse between them, johnson was naturally annoyed when the dignified noble published two articles in the _world_--a periodical supported by such polite personages as himself and horace walpole--in which the need of a dictionary was set forth, and various courtly compliments described johnson's fitness for a dictatorship over the language. nothing could be more prettily turned; but it meant, and johnson took it to mean, i should like to have the dictionary dedicated to me: such a compliment would add a feather to my cap, and enable me to appear to the world as a patron of literature as well as an authority upon manners. "after making pert professions," as johnson said, "he had, for many years, taken no notice of me; but when my _dictionary_ was coming out, he fell a scribbling in the _world_ about it." johnson therefore bestowed upon the noble earl a piece of his mind in a letter which was not published till it came out in boswell's biography. "my lord,--i have been lately informed by the proprietor of the _world_ that two papers, in which my _dictionary_ is recommended to the public, were written by your lordship. to be so distinguished is an honour which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, i know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. "when, upon some slight encouragement, i first visited your lordship, i was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that i might boast myself, _le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_--that i might obtain that regard for which i saw the world contending; but i found my attendance so little encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. when i had once addressed your lordship in public, i had exhausted all the arts of pleasing which a wearied and uncourtly scholar can possess. i had done all that i could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. "seven years, my lord, have now passed, since i waited in your outward rooms and was repulsed from your door; during which time i have been pushing on my work through difficulties of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it at last to the verge of publication without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, and one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect, for i never had a patron before. "the shepherd in _virgil_ grew at last acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks. "is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and when he has reached the ground encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the public should consider me as owing that to a patron which providence has enabled me to do for myself. "having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, i shall not be disappointed though i should conclude it, should loss be possible, with loss; for i have been long wakened from that dream of hope in which i once boasted myself with so much exultation, my lord, "your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, "sam. johnson." the letter is one of those knock-down blows to which no answer is possible, and upon which comment is superfluous. it was, as mr. carlyle calls it, "the far-famed blast of doom proclaiming into the ear of lord chesterfield and through him, of the listening world, that patronage should be no more." that is all that can be said; yet perhaps it should be added that johnson remarked that he had once received £ from chesterfield, though he thought the assistance too inconsiderable to be mentioned in such a letter. hawkins also states that chesterfield sent overtures to johnson through two friends, one of whom, long sir thomas robinson, stated that, if he were rich enough (a judicious clause) he would himself settle £ a year upon johnson. johnson replied that if the first peer of the realm made such an offer, he would show him the way downstairs. hawkins is startled at this insolence, and at johnson's uniform assertion that an offer of money was an insult. we cannot tell what was the history of the £ ; but johnson, in spite of hawkins's righteous indignation, was in fact too proud to be a beggar, and owed to his pride his escape from the fate of savage. the appearance of the _dictionary_ placed johnson in the position described soon afterwards by smollett. he was henceforth "the great cham of literature"--a monarch sitting in the chair previously occupied by his namesake, ben, by dryden, and by pope; but which has since that time been vacant. the world of literature has become too large for such authority. complaints were not seldom uttered at the time. goldsmith has urged that boswell wished to make a monarchy of what ought to be a republic. goldsmith, who would have been the last man to find serious fault with the dictator, thought the dictatorship objectionable. some time indeed was still to elapse before we can say that johnson was firmly seated on the throne; but the _dictionary_ and the _rambler_ had given him a position not altogether easy to appreciate, now that the _dictionary_ has been superseded and the _rambler_ gone out of fashion. his name was the highest at this time ( ) in the ranks of pure literature. the fame of warburton possibly bulked larger for the moment, and one of his flatterers was comparing him to the colossus which bestrides the petty world of contemporaries. but warburton had subsided into episcopal repose, and literature had been for him a stepping-stone rather than an ultimate aim. hume had written works of far more enduring influence than johnson; but they were little read though generally abused, and scarcely belong to the purely literary history. the first volume of his _history of england_ had appeared ( ), but had not succeeded. the second was just coming out. richardson was still giving laws to his little seraglio of adoring women; fielding had died ( ), worn out by labour and dissipation; smollett was active in the literary trade, but not in such a way as to increase his own dignity or that of his employment; gray was slowly writing a few lines of exquisite verse in his retirement at cambridge; two young irish adventurers, burke and goldsmith, were just coming to london to try their fortune; adam smith made his first experiment as an author by reviewing the _dictionary_ in the _edinburgh review_; robertson had not yet appeared as a historian; gibbon was at lausanne repenting of his old brief lapse into catholicism as an act of undergraduate's folly; and cowper, after three years of "giggling and making giggle" with thurlow in an attorney's office, was now entered at the temple and amusing himself at times with literature in company with such small men of letters as colman, bonnell thornton, and lloyd. it was a slack tide of literature; the generation of pope had passed away and left no successors, and no writer of the time could be put in competition with the giant now known as "dictionary johnson." when the last sheet of the _dictionary_ had been carried to the publisher, millar, johnson asked the messenger, "what did he say?" "sir," said the messenger, "he said, 'thank god i have done with him.'" "i am glad," replied johnson, "that he thanks god for anything." thankfulness for relief from seven years' toil seems to have been johnson's predominant feeling: and he was not anxious for a time to take any new labours upon his shoulders. some years passed which have left few traces either upon his personal or his literary history. he contributed a good many reviews in - to the _literary magazine_, one of which, a review of soame jenyns, is amongst his best performances. to a weekly paper he contributed for two years, from april, , to april, , a set of essays called the _idler_, on the old _rambler_ plan. he did some small literary cobbler's work, receiving a guinea for a prospectus to a newspaper and ten pounds for correcting a volume of poetry. he had advertised in a new edition of shakspeare which was to appear by christmas, : but he dawdled over it so unconscionably that it did not appear for nine years; and then only in consequence of taunts from churchill, who accused him with too much plausibility of cheating his subscribers. he for subscribers baits his hook; and takes your cash: but where's the book? no matter where; wise fear, you know forbids the robbing of a foe; but what to serve our private ends forbids the cheating of our friends? in truth, his constitutional indolence seems to have gained advantages over him, when the stimulus of a heavy task was removed. in his meditations, there are many complaints of his "sluggishness" and resolutions of amendment. "a kind of strange oblivion has spread over me," he says in april, , "so that i know not what has become of the last years, and perceive that incidents and intelligence pass over me without leaving any impression." it seems, however, that he was still frequently in difficulties. letters are preserved showing that in the beginning of , richardson became surety for him for a debt, and lent him six guineas to release him from arrest. an event which happened three years later illustrates his position and character. in january, , his mother died at the age of ninety. johnson was unable to come to lichfield, and some deeply pathetic letters to her and her stepdaughter, who lived with her, record his emotions. here is the last sad farewell upon the snapping of the most sacred of human ties. "dear honoured mother," he says in a letter enclosed to lucy porter, the step-daughter, "neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. you have been the best mother, and i believe the best woman in the world. i thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that i have done ill, and of all that i have omitted to do well. god grant you his holy spirit, and receive you to everlasting happiness for jesus christ's sake. amen. lord jesus receive your spirit. i am, dear, dear mother, "your dutiful son, "samuel johnson." johnson managed to raise twelve guineas, six of them borrowed from his printer, to send to his dying mother. in order to gain money for her funeral expenses and some small debts, he wrote the story of _rasselas_. it was composed in the evenings of a single week, and sent to press as it was written. he received £ for this, perhaps the most successful of his minor writings, and £ for a second edition. it was widely translated and universally admired. one of the strangest of literary coincidences is the contemporary appearance of this work and voltaire's _candide_; to which, indeed, it bears in some respects so strong a resemblance that, but for johnson's apparent contradiction, we would suppose that he had at least heard some description of its design. the two stories, though widely differing in tone and style, are among the most powerful expressions of the melancholy produced in strong intellects by the sadness and sorrows of the world. the literary excellence of _candide_ has secured for it a wider and more enduring popularity than has fallen to the lot of johnson's far heavier production. but _rasselas_ is a book of singular force, and bears the most characteristic impression of johnson's peculiar temperament. a great change was approaching in johnson's circumstances. when george iii. came to the throne, it struck some of his advisers that it would be well, as boswell puts it, to open "a new and brighter prospect to men of literary merit." this commendable design was carried out by offering to johnson a pension of three hundred a year. considering that such men as horace walpole and his like were enjoying sinecures of more than twice as many thousands for being their father's sons, the bounty does not strike one as excessively liberal. it seems to have been really intended as some set-off against other pensions bestowed upon various hangers-on of the scotch prime minister, bute. johnson was coupled with the contemptible scribbler, shebbeare, who had lately been in the pillory for a jacobite libel (a "he-bear" and a "she-bear," said the facetious newspapers), and when a few months afterwards a pension of £ a year was given to the old actor, sheridan, johnson growled out that it was time for him to resign his own. somebody kindly repeated the remark to sheridan, who would never afterwards speak to johnson. the pension, though very welcome to johnson, who seems to have been in real distress at the time, suggested some difficulty. johnson had unluckily spoken of a pension in his _dictionary_ as "generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country." he was assured, however, that he did not come within the definition; and that the reward was given for what he had done, not for anything that he was expected to do. after some hesitation, johnson consented to accept the payment thus offered without the direct suggestion of any obligation, though it was probably calculated that he would in case of need, be the more ready, as actually happened, to use his pen in defence of authority. he had not compromised his independence and might fairly laugh at angry comments. "i wish," he said afterwards, "that my pension were twice as large, that they might make twice as much noise." "i cannot now curse the house of hanover," was his phrase on another occasion: "but i think that the pleasure of cursing the house of hanover and drinking king james's health, all amply overbalanced by three hundred pounds a year." in truth, his jacobitism was by this time, whatever it had once been, nothing more than a humorous crotchet, giving opportunity for the expression of tory prejudice. "i hope you will now purge and live cleanly like a gentleman," was beauclerk's comment upon hearing of his friend's accession of fortune, and as johnson is now emerging from grub street, it is desirable to consider what manner of man was to be presented to the wider circles that were opening to receive him. chapter iii johnson and his friends. it is not till some time after johnson had come into the enjoyment of his pension, that we first see him through the eyes of competent observers. the johnson of our knowledge, the most familiar figure to all students of english literary history had already long passed the prime of life, and done the greatest part of his literary work. his character, in the common phrase, had been "formed" years before; as, indeed, people's characters are chiefly formed in the cradle; and, not only his character, but the habits which are learnt in the great schoolroom of the world were fixed beyond any possibility of change. the strange eccentricities which had now become a second nature, amazed the society in which he was for over twenty years a prominent figure. unsympathetic observers, those especially to whom the chesterfield type represented the ideal of humanity, were simply disgusted or repelled. the man, they thought, might be in his place at a grub street pot-house; but had no business in a lady's drawing-room. if he had been modest and retiring, they might have put up with his defects; but johnson was not a person whose qualities, good or bad, were of a kind to be ignored. naturally enough, the fashionable world cared little for the rugged old giant. "the great," said johnson, "had tried him and given him up; they had seen enough of him;" and his reason was pretty much to the purpose. "great lords and great ladies don't love to have their mouths stopped," especially not, one may add, by an unwashed fist. it is easy to blame them now. everybody can see that a saint in beggar's rags is intrinsically better than a sinner in gold lace. but the principle is one of those which serves us for judging the dead, much more than for regulating our own conduct. those, at any rate, may throw the first stone at the horace walpoles and chesterfields, who are quite certain that they would ask a modern johnson to their houses. the trial would be severe. poor mrs. boswell complained grievously of her husband's idolatry. "i have seen many a bear led by a man," she said; "but i never before saw a man led by a bear." the truth is, as boswell explains, that the sage's uncouth habits, such as turning the candles' heads downwards to make them burn more brightly, and letting the wax drop upon the carpet, "could not but be disagreeable to a lady." he had other habits still more annoying to people of delicate perceptions. a hearty despiser of all affectations, he despised especially the affectation of indifference to the pleasures of the table. "for my part," he said, "i mind my belly very studiously and very carefully, for i look upon it that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else." avowing this principle he would innocently give himself the airs of a scientific epicure. "i, madam," he said to the terror of a lady with whom he was about to sup, "who live at a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery than any person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home, for his palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook, whereas, madam, in trying by a wider range, i can more exquisitely judge." but his pretensions to exquisite taste are by no means borne out by independent witnesses. "he laughs," said tom davies, "like a rhinoceros," and he seems to have eaten like a wolf--savagely, silently, and with undiscriminating fury. he was not a pleasant object during this performance. he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment, a strong perspiration came out, and the veins of his forehead swelled. he liked coarse satisfying dishes--boiled pork and veal-pie stuffed with plums and sugar; and in regard to wine, he seems to have accepted the doctrines of the critic of a certain fluid professing to be port, who asked, "what more can you want? it is black, and it is thick, and it makes you drunk." claret, as johnson put it, "is the liquor for boys, and port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy." he could, however, refrain, though he could not be moderate, and for all the latter part of his life, from , he was a total abstainer. nor, it should be added, does he ever appear to have sought for more than exhilaration from wine. his earliest intimate friend, hector, said that he had never but once seen him drunk. his appetite for more innocent kinds of food was equally excessive. he would eat seven or eight peaches before breakfast, and declared that he had only once in his life had as much wall-fruit as he wished. his consumption of tea was prodigious, beyond all precedent. hawkins quotes bishop burnet as having drunk sixteen large cups every morning, a feat which would entitle him to be reckoned as a rival. "a hardened and shameless tea-drinker," johnson called himself, who "with tea amuses the evenings, with tea solaces the midnights, and with tea welcomes the mornings." one of his teapots, preserved by a relic-hunter, contained two quarts, and he professed to have consumed five and twenty cups at a sitting. poor mrs. thrale complains that he often kept her up making tea for him till four in the morning. his reluctance to go to bed was due to the fact that his nights were periods of intense misery; but the vast potations of tea can scarcely have tended to improve them. the huge frame was clad in the raggedest of garments, until his acquaintance with the thrales led to a partial reform. his wigs were generally burnt in front, from his shortsighted knack of reading with his head close to the candle; and at the thrales, the butler stood ready to effect a change of wigs as he passed into the dining-room. once or twice we have accounts of his bursting into unusual splendour. he appeared at the first representation of _irene_ in a scarlet waistcoat laced with gold; and on one of his first interviews with goldsmith he took the trouble to array himself decently, because goldsmith was reported to have justified slovenly habits by the precedent of the leader of his craft. goldsmith, judging by certain famous suits, seems to have profited by the hint more than his preceptor. as a rule, johnson's appearance, before he became a pensioner, was worthy of the proverbial manner of grub street. beauclerk used to describe how he had once taken a french lady of distinction to see johnson in his chambers. on descending the staircase they heard a noise like thunder. johnson was pursuing them, struck by a sudden sense of the demands upon his gallantry. he brushed in between beauclerk and the lady, and seizing her hand conducted her to her coach. a crowd of people collected to stare at the sage, dressed in rusty brown, with a pair of old shoes for slippers, a shrivelled wig on the top of his head, and with shirtsleeves and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. in those days, clergymen and physicians were only just abandoning the use of their official costume in the streets, and johnson's slovenly habits were even more marked than they would be at present. "i have no passion for clean linen," he once remarked, and it is to be feared that he must sometimes have offended more senses than one. in spite of his uncouth habits of dress and manners, johnson claimed and, in a sense, with justice, to be a polite man. "i look upon myself," he said once to boswell, "as a very polite man." he could show the stately courtesy of a sound tory, who cordially accepts the principle of social distinction, but has far too strong a sense of self-respect to fancy that compliance with the ordinary conventions can possibly lower his own position. rank of the spiritual kind was especially venerable to him. "i should as soon have thought of contradicting a bishop," was a phrase which marked the highest conceivable degree of deference to a man whom he respected. nobody, again, could pay more effective compliments, when he pleased; and the many female friends who have written of him agree, that he could be singularly attractive to women. women are, perhaps, more inclined than men to forgive external roughness in consideration of the great charm of deep tenderness in a thoroughly masculine nature. a characteristic phrase was his remark to miss monckton. she had declared, in opposition to one of johnson's prejudices, that sterne's writings were pathetic: "i am sure," she said, "they have affected me." "why," said johnson, smiling and rolling himself about, "that is because, dearest, you are a dunce!" when she mentioned this to him some time afterwards he replied: "madam, if i had thought so, i certainly should not have said it." the truth could not be more neatly put. boswell notes, with some surprise, that when johnson dined with lord monboddo he insisted upon rising when the ladies left the table, and took occasion to observe that politeness was "fictitious benevolence," and equally useful in common intercourse. boswell's surprise seems to indicate that scotchmen in those days were even greater bears than johnson. he always insisted, as miss reynolds tells us, upon showing ladies to their carriages through bolt court, though his dress was such that her readers would, she thinks, be astonished that any man in his senses should have shown himself in it abroad or even at home. another odd indication of johnson's regard for good manners, so far as his lights would take him, was the extreme disgust with which he often referred to a certain footman in paris, who used his fingers in place of sugar-tongs. so far as johnson could recognize bad manners he was polite enough, though unluckily the limitation is one of considerable importance. johnson's claims to politeness were sometimes, it is true, put in a rather startling form. "every man of any education," he once said to the amazement of his hearers, "would rather be called a rascal than accused of deficiency in the graces." gibbon, who was present, slily inquired of a lady whether among all her acquaintance she could not find _one_ exception. according to mrs. thrale, he went even further. dr. barnard, he said, was the only man who had ever done justice to his good breeding; "and you may observe," he added, "that i am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity." he proceeded, according to mrs. thrale, but the report a little taxes our faith, to claim the virtues not only of respecting ceremony, but of never contradicting or interrupting his hearers. it is rather odd that dr. barnard had once a sharp altercation with johnson, and avenged himself by a sarcastic copy of verses in which, after professing to learn perfectness from different friends, he says,-- johnson shall teach me how to place, in varied light, each borrow'd grace; from him i'll learn to write; copy his clear familiar style, and by the roughness of his file, grow, like himself, polite. johnson, on this as on many occasions, repented of the blow as soon as it was struck, and sat down by barnard, "literally smoothing down his arms and knees," and beseeching pardon. barnard accepted his apologies, but went home and wrote his little copy of verses. johnson's shortcomings in civility were no doubt due, in part, to the narrowness of his faculties of perception. he did not know, for he could not see, that his uncouth gestures and slovenly dress were offensive; and he was not so well able to observe others as to shake off the manners contracted in grub street. it is hard to study a manual of etiquette late in life, and for a man of johnson's imperfect faculties it was probably impossible. errors of this kind were always pardonable, and are now simply ludicrous. but johnson often shocked his companions by more indefensible conduct. he was irascible, overbearing, and, when angry, vehement beyond all propriety. he was a "tremendous companion," said garrick's brother; and men of gentle nature, like charles fox, often shrank from his company, and perhaps exaggerated his brutality. johnson, who had long regarded conversation as the chief amusement, came in later years to regard it as almost the chief employment of life; and he had studied the art with the zeal of a man pursuing a favourite hobby. he had always, as he told sir joshua reynolds, made it a principle to talk on all occasions as well as he could. he had thus obtained a mastery over his weapons which made him one of the most accomplished of conversational gladiators. he had one advantage which has pretty well disappeared from modern society, and the disappearance of which has been destructive to excellence of talk. a good talker, even more than a good orator, implies a good audience. modern society is too vast and too restless to give a conversationalist a fair chance. for the formation of real proficiency in the art, friends should meet often, sit long, and be thoroughly at ease. a modern audience generally breaks up before it is well warmed through, and includes enough strangers to break the magic circle of social electricity. the clubs in which johnson delighted were excellently adapted to foster his peculiar talent. there a man could "fold his legs and have his talk out"--a pleasure hardly to be enjoyed now. and there a set of friends meeting regularly, and meeting to talk, learnt to sharpen each other's skill in all dialectic manoeuvres. conversation may be pleasantest, as johnson admitted, when two friends meet quietly to exchange their minds without any thought of display. but conversation considered as a game, as a bout of intellectual sword-play, has also charms which johnson intensely appreciated. his talk was not of the encyclopaedia variety, like that of some more modern celebrities; but it was full of apposite illustrations and unrivalled in keen argument, rapid flashes of wit and humour, scornful retort and dexterous sophistry. sometimes he would fell his adversary at a blow; his sword, as boswell said, would be through your body in an instant without preliminary flourishes; and in the excitement of talking for victory, he would use any device that came to hand. "there is no arguing with johnson," said goldsmith, quoting a phrase from cibber, "for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt-end of it." johnson's view of conversation is indicated by his remark about burke. "that fellow," he said at a time of illness, "calls forth all my powers. were i to see burke now, it would kill me." "it is when you come close to a man in conversation," he said on another occasion, "that you discover what his real abilities are. to make a speech in an assembly is a knack. now i honour thurlow, sir; thurlow is a fine fellow, he fairly puts his mind to yours." johnson's retorts were fair play under the conditions of the game, as it is fair play to kick an opponent's shins at football. but of course a man who had, as it were, become the acknowledged champion of the ring, and who had an irascible and thoroughly dogmatic temper, was tempted to become unduly imperious. in the company of which savage was a distinguished member, one may guess that the conversational fervour sometimes degenerated into horse-play. want of arguments would be supplied by personality, and the champion would avenge himself by brutality on an opponent who happened for once to be getting the best of him. johnson, as he grew older and got into more polished society, became milder in his manners; but he had enough of the old spirit left in him to break forth at times with ungovernable fury, and astonish the well-regulated minds of respectable ladies and gentlemen. anecdotes illustrative of this ferocity abound, and his best friends--except, perhaps, reynolds and burke--had all to suffer in turn. on one occasion, when he had made a rude speech even to reynolds, boswell states, though with some hesitation, his belief that johnson actually blushed. the records of his contests in this kind fill a large space in boswell's pages. that they did not lead to worse consequences shows his absence of rancour. he was always ready and anxious for a reconciliation, though he would not press for one if his first overtures were rejected. there was no venom in the wounds he inflicted, for there was no ill-nature; he was rough in the heat of the struggle, and in such cases careless in distributing blows; but he never enjoyed giving pain. none of his tiffs ripened into permanent quarrels, and he seems scarcely to have lost a friend. he is a pleasant contrast in this, as in much else, to horace walpole, who succeeded, in the course of a long life, in breaking with almost all his old friends. no man set a higher value upon friendship than johnson. "a man," he said to reynolds, "ought to keep his friendship in constant repair;" or he would find himself left alone as he grew older. "i look upon a day as lost," he said later in life, "in which i do not make a new acquaintance." making new acquaintances did not involve dropping the old. the list of his friends is a long one, and includes, as it were, successive layers, superposed upon each other, from the earliest period of his life. this is so marked a feature in johnson's character, that it will be as well at this point to notice some of the friendships from which he derived the greatest part of his happiness. two of his schoolfellows, hector and taylor, remained his intimates through life. hector survived to give information to boswell, and taylor, then a prebendary of westminster, read the funeral service over his old friend in the abbey. he showed, said some of the bystanders, too little feeling. the relation between the two men was not one of special tenderness; indeed they were so little congenial that boswell rather gratuitously suspected his venerable teacher of having an eye to taylor's will. it seems fairer to regard the acquaintance as an illustration of that curious adhesiveness which made johnson cling to less attractive persons. at any rate, he did not show the complacence of the proper will-hunter. taylor was rector of bosworth and squire of ashbourne. he was a fine specimen of the squire-parson; a justice of the peace, a warm politician, and what was worse, a warm whig. he raised gigantic bulls, bragged of selling cows for guineas and more, and kept a noble butler in purple clothes and a large white wig. johnson respected taylor as a sensible man, but was ready to have a round with him on occasion. he snorted contempt when taylor talked of breaking some small vessels if he took an emetic. "bah," said the doctor, who regarded a valetudinarian as a "scoundrel," "if you have so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't." nay, if he did not condemn taylor's cows, he criticized his bulldog with cruel acuteness. "no, sir, he is not well shaped; for there is not the quick transition from the thickness of the fore-part to the _tenuity_--the thin part--behind, which a bulldog ought to have." on the more serious topic of politics his jacobite fulminations roused taylor "to a pitch of bellowing." johnson roared out that if the people of england were fairly polled (this was in ) the present king would be sent away to-night, and his adherents hanged to-morrow. johnson, however, rendered taylor the substantial service of writing sermons for him, two volumes of which were published after they were both dead; and taylor must have been a bold man, if it be true, as has been said, that he refused to preach a sermon written by johnson upon mrs. johnson's death, on the ground that it spoke too favourably of the character of the deceased. johnson paid frequent visits to lichfield, to keep up his old friends. one of them was lucy porter, his wife's daughter, with whom, according to miss seward, he had been in love before he married her mother. he was at least tenderly attached to her through life. and, for the most part, the good people of lichfield seem to have been proud of their fellow-townsman, and gave him a substantial proof of their sympathy by continuing to him, on favourable terms, the lease of a house originally granted to his father. there was, indeed, one remarkable exception in miss seward, who belonged to a genus specially contemptible to the old doctor. she was one of the fine ladies who dabbled in poetry, and aimed at being the centre of a small literary circle at lichfield. her letters are amongst the most amusing illustrations of the petty affectations and squabbles characteristic of such a provincial clique. she evidently hated johnson at the bottom of her small soul; and, indeed, though johnson once paid her a preposterous compliment--a weakness of which this stern moralist was apt to be guilty in the company of ladies--he no doubt trod pretty roughly upon some of her pet vanities. by far the most celebrated of johnson's lichfield friends was david garrick, in regard to whom his relations were somewhat peculiar. reynolds said that johnson considered garrick to be his own property, and would never allow him to be praised or blamed by any one else without contradiction. reynolds composed a pair of imaginary dialogues to illustrate the proposition, in one of which johnson attacks garrick in answer to reynolds, and in the other defends him in answer to gibbon. the dialogues seem to be very good reproductions of the johnsonian manner, though perhaps the courteous reynolds was a little too much impressed by its roughness; and they probably include many genuine remarks of johnson's. it is remarkable that the praise is far more pointed and elaborate than the blame, which turns chiefly upon the general inferiority of an actor's position. and, in fact, this seems to have corresponded to johnson's opinion about garrick as gathered from boswell. the two men had at bottom a considerable regard for each other, founded upon old association, mutual services, and reciprocal respect for talents of very different orders. but they were so widely separated by circumstances, as well as by a radical opposition of temperament, that any close intimacy could hardly be expected. the bear and the monkey are not likely to be intimate friends. garrick's rapid elevation in fame and fortune seems to have produced a certain degree of envy in his old schoolmaster. a grave moral philosopher has, of course, no right to look askance at the rewards which fashion lavishes upon men of lighter and less lasting merit, and which he professes to despise. johnson, however, was troubled with a rather excessive allowance of human nature. moreover he had the good old-fashioned contempt for players, characteristic both of the tory and the inartistic mind. he asserted roundly that he looked upon players as no better than dancing-dogs. "but, sir, you will allow that some players are better than others?" "yes, sir, as some dogs dance better than others." so when goldsmith accused garrick of grossly flattering the queen, johnson exclaimed, "and as to meanness--how is it mean in a player, a showman, a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter his queen?" at another time boswell suggested that we might respect a great player. "what! sir," exclaimed johnson, "a fellow who claps a hump upon his back and a lump on his leg and cries, '_i am richard iii._'? nay, sir, a ballad-singer is a higher man, for he does two things: he repeats and he sings; there is both recitation and music in his performance--the player only recites." such sentiments were not very likely to remain unknown to garrick nor to put him at ease with johnson, whom, indeed, he always suspected of laughing at him. they had a little tiff on account of johnson's edition of shakspeare. from some misunderstanding, johnson did not make use of garrick's collection of old plays. johnson, it seems, thought that garrick should have courted him more, and perhaps sent the plays to his house; whereas garrick, knowing that johnson treated books with a roughness ill-suited to their constitution, thought that he had done quite enough by asking johnson to come to his library. the revenge--if it was revenge--taken by johnson was to say nothing of garrick in his preface, and to glance obliquely at his non-communication of his rarities. he seems to have thought that it would be a lowering of shakspeare to admit that his fame owed anything to garrick's exertions. boswell innocently communicated to garrick a criticism of johnson's upon one of his poems-- i'd smile with the simple and feed with the poor. "let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich," was johnson's tolerably harmless remark. garrick, however, did not like it, and when boswell tried to console him by saying that johnson gored everybody in turn, and added, "_foenum habet in cornu_." "ay," said garrick vehemently, "he has a whole mow of it." the most unpleasant incident was when garrick proposed rather too freely to be a member of the club. johnson said that the first duke in england had no right to use such language, and said, according to mrs. thrale, "if garrick does apply, i'll blackball him. surely we ought to be able to sit in a society like ours-- 'unelbowed by a gamester, pimp, or player!'" nearly ten years afterwards, however, johnson favoured his election, and when he died, declared that the club should have a year's widowhood. no successor to garrick was elected during that time. johnson sometimes ventured to criticise garrick's acting, but here garrick could take his full revenge. the purblind johnson was not, we may imagine, much of a critic in such matters. garrick reports him to have said of an actor at lichfield, "there is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;" when, in fact, said garrick, "he was the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon boards." in spite of such collisions of opinion and mutual criticism, johnson seems to have spoken in the highest terms of garrick's good qualities, and they had many pleasant meetings. garrick takes a prominent part in two or three of the best conversations in boswell, and seems to have put his interlocutors in specially good temper. johnson declared him to be "the first man in the world for sprightly conversation." he said that dryden had written much better prologues than any of garrick's, but that garrick had written more good prologues than dryden. he declared that it was wonderful how little garrick had been spoilt by all the flattery that he had received. no wonder if he was a little vain: "a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be conceived: so many bellows have blown the fuel, that one wonders he is not by this time become a cinder!" "if all this had happened to me," he said on another occasion, "i should have had a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down everybody that stood in the way. consider, if all this had happened to cibber and quin, they'd have jumped over the moon. yet garrick speaks to us," smiling. he admitted at the same time that garrick had raised the profession of a player. he defended garrick, too, against the common charge of avarice. garrick, as he pointed out, had been brought up in a family whose study it was to make fourpence go as far as fourpence-halfpenny. johnson remembered in early days drinking tea with garrick when peg woffington made it, and made it, as garrick grumbled, "as red as blood." but when garrick became rich he became liberal. he had, so johnson declared, given away more money than any man in england. after garrick's death, johnson took occasion to say, in the _lives of the poets_, that the death "had eclipsed the gaiety of nations and diminished the public stock of harmless pleasures." boswell ventured to criticise the observation rather spitefully. "why _nations_? did his gaiety extend further than his own nation?" "why, sir," replied johnson, "some imagination must be allowed. besides, we may say _nations_ if we allow the scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety--which they have not." on the whole, in spite of various drawbacks, johnson's reported observations upon garrick will appear to be discriminative, and yet, on the whole, strongly favourable to his character. yet we are not quite surprised that mrs. garrick did not respond to a hint thrown out by johnson, that he would be glad to write the life of his friend. at oxford, johnson acquired the friendship of dr. adams, afterwards master of pembroke and author of a once well-known reply to hume's argument upon miracles. he was an amiable man, and was proud to do the honours of the university to his old friend, when, in later years, johnson revisited the much-loved scenes of his neglected youth. the warmth of johnson's regard for old days is oddly illustrated by an interview recorded by boswell with one edwards, a fellow-student whom he met again in , not having previously seen him since . they had lived in london for forty years without once meeting, a fact more surprising then than now. boswell eagerly gathered up the little scraps of college anecdote which the meeting produced, but perhaps his best find was a phrase of edwards himself. "you are a philosopher, dr. johnson," he said; "i have tried, too, in my time to be a philosopher; but, i don't know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in." the phrase, as boswell truly says, records an exquisite trait of character. of the friends who gathered round johnson during his period of struggle, many had vanished before he became well known. the best loved of all seems to have been dr. bathurst, a physician, who, failing to obtain practice, joined the expedition to havannah, and fell a victim to the climate ( ). upon him johnson pronounced a panegyric which has contributed a proverbial phrase to the language. "dear bathurst," he said, "was a man to my very heart's content: he hated a fool and he hated a rogue, and he hated a whig; he was a _very good hater_." johnson remembered bathurst in his prayers for years after his loss, and received from him a peculiar legacy. francis barker had been the negro slave of bathurst's father, who left him his liberty by will. dr. bathurst allowed him to enter johnson's service; and johnson sent him to school at considerable expense, and afterwards retained him in his service with little interruption till his own death. once barker ran away to sea, and was discharged, oddly enough, by the good offices of wilkes, to whom smollett applied on johnson's behalf. barker became an important member of johnson's family, some of whom reproached him for his liberality to the nigger. no one ever solved the great problem as to what services were rendered by barker to his master, whose wig was "as impenetrable by a comb as a quickset hedge," and whose clothes were never touched by the brush. among the other friends of this period must be reckoned his biographer, hawkins, an attorney who was afterwards chairman of the middlesex justices, and knighted on presenting an address to the king. boswell regarded poor sir john hawkins with all the animosity of a rival author, and with some spice of wounded vanity. he was grievously offended, so at least says sir john's daughter, on being described in the _life of johnson_ as "mr. james boswell" without a solitary epithet such as celebrated or well-known. if that was really his feeling, he had his revenge; for no one book ever so suppressed another as boswell's life suppressed hawkins's. in truth, hawkins was a solemn prig, remarkable chiefly for the unusual intensity of his conviction that all virtue consists in respectability. he had a special aversion to "goodness of heart," which he regarded as another name for a quality properly called extravagance or vice. johnson's tenacity of old acquaintance introduced him into the club, where he made himself so disagreeable, especially, as it seems, by rudeness to burke, that he found it expedient to invent a pretext for resignation. johnson called him a "very unclubable man," and may perhaps have intended him in the quaint description: "i really believe him to be an honest man at the bottom; though, to be sure, he is rather penurious, and he is somewhat mean; and it must be owned he has some degree of brutality, and is not without a tendency to savageness that cannot well be defended." in a list of johnson's friends it is proper to mention richardson and hawkesworth. richardson seems to have given him substantial help, and was repaid by favourable comparisons with fielding, scarcely borne out by the verdict of posterity. "fielding," said johnson, "could tell the hour by looking at the clock; whilst richardson knew how the clock was made." "there is more knowledge of the heart," he said at another time, "in one letter of richardson's than in all _tom jones_." johnson's preference of the sentimentalist to the man whose humour and strong sense were so like his own, shows how much his criticism was biassed by his prejudices; though, of course, richardson's external decency was a recommendation to the moralist. hawkesworth's intimacy with johnson seems to have been chiefly in the period between the _dictionary_ and the pension. he was considered to be johnson's best imitator; and has vanished like other imitators. his fate, very doubtful if the story believed at the time be true, was a curious one for a friend of johnson's. he had made some sceptical remarks as to the efficacy of prayer in his preface to the south sea voyages; and was so bitterly attacked by a "christian" in the papers, that he destroyed himself by a dose of opium. two younger friends, who became disciples of the sage soon after the appearance of the _rambler_, are prominent figures in the later circle. one of these was bennet langton, a man of good family, fine scholarship, and very amiable character. his exceedingly tall and slender figure was compared by best to the stork in raphael's cartoon of the miraculous draught of fishes. miss hawkins describes him sitting with one leg twisted round the other as though to occupy the smallest possible space, and playing with his gold snuff-box with a mild countenance and sweet smile. the gentle, modest creature was loved by johnson, who could warm into unusual eloquence in singing his praises. the doctor, however, was rather fond of discussing with boswell the faults of his friend. they seem to have chiefly consisted in a certain languor or sluggishness of temperament which allowed his affairs to get into perplexity. once, when arguing the delicate question as to the propriety of telling a friend of his wife's unfaithfulness, boswell, after his peculiar fashion, chose to enliven the abstract statement by the purely imaginary hypothesis of mr. and mrs. langton being in this position. johnson said that it would be useless to tell langton, because he would be too sluggish to get a divorce. once langton was the unconscious cause of one of johnson's oddest performances. langton had employed chambers, a common friend of his and johnson's, to draw his will. johnson, talking to chambers and boswell, was suddenly struck by the absurdity of his friend's appearing in the character of testator. his companions, however, were utterly unable to see in what the joke consisted; but johnson laughed obstreperously and irrepressibly: he laughed till he reached the temple gate; and when in fleet street went almost into convulsions of hilarity. holding on by one of the posts in the street, he sent forth such peals of laughter that they seemed in the silence of the night to resound from temple bar to fleet ditch. not long before his death, johnson applied to langton for spiritual advice. "i desired him to tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty." langton wrote upon a sheet of paper certain texts recommending christian charity; and explained, upon inquiry, that he was pointing at johnson's habit of contradiction. the old doctor began by thanking him earnestly for his kindness; but gradually waxed savage and asked langton, "in a loud and angry tone, what is your drift, sir?" he complained of the well-meant advice to boswell, with a sense that he had been unjustly treated. it was a scene for a comedy, as reynolds observed, to see a penitent get into a passion and belabour his confessor. through langton, johnson became acquainted with the friend whose manner was in the strongest contrast to his own. topham beauclerk was a man of fashion. he was commended to johnson by a likeness to charles ii., from whom he was descended, being the grandson of the first duke of st. alban's. beauclerk was a man of literary and scientific tastes. he inherited some of the moral laxity which johnson chose to pardon in his ancestor. some years after his acquaintance with boswell he married lady diana spencer, a lady who had been divorced upon his account from her husband, lord bolingbroke. but he took care not to obtrude his faults of life, whatever they may have been, upon the old moralist, who entertained for him a peculiar affection. he specially admired beauclerk's skill in the use of a more polished, if less vigorous, style of conversation than his own. he envied the ease with which beauclerk brought out his sly incisive retorts. "no man," he said, "ever was so free when he was going to say a good thing, from a look that expressed that it was coming; or, when he had said it, from a look that expressed that it had come." when beauclerk was dying (in ), johnson said, with a faltering voice, that he would walk to the extremity of the diameter of the earth to save him. two little anecdotes are expressive of his tender feeling for this incongruous friend. boswell had asked him to sup at beauclerk's. he started, but, on the way, recollecting himself, said, "i cannot go; but _i do not love beauclerk the less_." beauclerk had put upon a portrait of johnson the inscription,-- ingenium ingens inculto latet hoc sub corpore. langton, who bought the portrait, had the inscription removed. "it was kind in you to take it off," said johnson; and, after a short pause, "not unkind in him to put it on." early in their acquaintance, the two young men, beau and lanky, as johnson called them, had sat up one night at a tavern till three in the morning. the courageous thought struck them that they would knock up the old philosopher. he came to the door of his chambers, poker in hand, with an old wig for a nightcap. on hearing their errand, the sage exclaimed, "what! is it you, you dogs? i'll have a frisk with you." and so johnson with the two youths, his juniors by about thirty years, proceeded to make a night of it. they amazed the fruiterers in covent garden; they brewed a bowl of bishop in a tavern, while johnson quoted the poet's address to sleep,-- "short, o short, be then thy reign, and give us to the world again!" they took a boat to billingsgate, and johnson, with beauclerk, kept up their amusement for the following day, when langton deserted them to go to breakfast with some young ladies, and johnson scolded him for leaving his friends "to go and sit with a parcel of wretched _unidea'd_ girls." "i shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house," said garrick when he heard of this queer alliance; and he told johnson that he would be in the _chronicle_ for his frolic. "he _durst_ not do such a thing. his wife would not let him," was the moralist's retort. some friends, known to fame by other titles than their connexion with johnson, had by this time gathered round them. among them was one, whose art he was unable to appreciate, but whose fine social qualities and dignified equability of temper made him a valued and respected companion. reynolds had settled in london at the end of . johnson met him at the house of miss cotterell. reynolds had specially admired johnson's _life of savage_, and, on their first meeting, happened to make a remark which delighted johnson. the ladies were regretting the loss of a friend to whom they were under obligations. "you have, however," said reynolds, "the comfort of being relieved from a burden of gratitude." the saying is a little too much like rochefoucauld, and too true to be pleasant; but it was one of those keen remarks which johnson appreciated because they prick a bubble of commonplace moralizing without demanding too literal an acceptation. he went home to sup with reynolds and became his intimate friend. on another occasion, johnson was offended by two ladies of rank at the same house, and by way of taking down their pride, asked reynolds in a loud voice, "how much do you think you and i could get in a week, if we both worked as hard as we could?" "his appearance," says sir joshua's sister, miss reynolds, "might suggest the poor author: as he was not likely in that place to be a blacksmith or a porter." poor miss reynolds, who tells this story, was another attraction to reynolds' house. she was a shy, retiring maiden lady, who vexed her famous brother by following in his steps without his talents, and was deeply hurt by his annoyance at the unintentional mockery. johnson was through life a kind and judicious friend to her; and had attracted her on their first meeting by a significant indication of his character. he said that when going home to his lodgings at one or two in the morning, he often saw poor children asleep on thresholds and stalls--the wretched "street arabs" of the day--and that he used to put pennies into their hands that they might buy a breakfast. two friends, who deserve to be placed beside reynolds, came from ireland to seek their fortunes in london. edmund burke, incomparably the greatest writer upon political philosophy in english literature, the master of a style unrivalled for richness, flexibility, and vigour, was radically opposed to johnson on party questions, though his language upon the french revolution, after johnson's death, would have satisfied even the strongest prejudices of his old friend. but he had qualities which commended him even to the man who called him a "bottomless whig," and who generally spoke of whigs as rascals, and maintained that the first whig was the devil. if his intellect was wider, his heart was as warm as johnson's, and in conversation he merited the generous applause and warm emulation of his friends. johnson was never tired of praising the extraordinary readiness and spontaneity of burke's conversation. "if a man," he said, "went under a shed at the same time with burke to avoid a shower, he would say, 'this is an extraordinary man.' or if burke went into a stable to see his horse dressed, the ostler would say, 'we have had an extraordinary man here.'" when burke was first going into parliament, johnson said in answer to hawkins, who wondered that such a man should get a seat, "we who know mr. burke, know that he will be one of the first men in the country." speaking of certain other members of parliament, more after the heart of sir john hawkins, he said that he grudged success to a man who made a figure by a knowledge of a few forms, though his mind was "as narrow as the neck of a vinegar cruet;" but then he did not grudge burke's being the first man in the house of commons, for he would be the first man everywhere. and burke equally admitted johnson's supremacy in conversation. "it is enough for me," he said to some one who regretted johnson's monopoly of the talk on a particular occasion, "to have rung the bell for him." the other irish adventurer, whose career was more nearly moulded upon that of johnson, came to london in , and made johnson's acquaintance. some time afterwards (in or before ) goldsmith, like johnson, had tasted the bitterness of an usher's life, and escaped into the scarcely more tolerable regions of grub street. after some years of trial, he was becoming known to the booksellers as a serviceable hand, and had two works in his desk destined to lasting celebrity. his landlady (apparently ) one day arrested him for debt. johnson, summoned to his assistance, sent him a guinea and speedily followed. the guinea had already been changed, and goldsmith was consoling himself with a bottle of madeira. johnson corked the bottle, and a discussion of ways and means brought out the manuscript of the _vicar of wakefield_. johnson looked into it, took it to a bookseller, got sixty pounds for it, and returned to goldsmith, who paid his rent and administered a sound rating to his landlady. the relation thus indicated is characteristic; johnson was as a rough but helpful elder brother to poor goldsmith, gave him advice, sympathy, and applause, and at times criticised him pretty sharply, or brought down his conversational bludgeon upon his sensitive friend. "he has nothing of the bear but his skin," was goldsmith's comment upon his clumsy friend, and the two men appreciated each other at bottom. some of their readers may be inclined to resent johnson's attitude of superiority. the admirably pure and tender heart, and the exquisite intellectual refinement implied in the _vicar_ and the _traveller_, force us to love goldsmith in spite of superficial foibles, and when johnson prunes or interpolates lines in the _traveller_, we feel as though a woodman's axe was hacking at a most delicate piece of carving. the evidence of contemporary observers, however, must force impartial readers to admit that poor goldsmith's foibles were real, however amply compensated by rare and admirable qualities. garrick's assertion, that he "wrote like an angel but talked like poor poll," expresses the unanimous opinion of all who had actually seen him. undoubtedly some of the stories of his childlike vanity, his frankly expressed envy, and his general capacity for blundering, owe something to boswell's feeling that he was a rival near the throne, and sometimes poor goldsmith's humorous self-assertion may have been taken too seriously by blunt english wits. one may doubt, for example, whether he was really jealous of a puppet tossing a pike, and unconscious of his absurdity in saying "pshaw! i could do it better myself!" boswell, however, was too good an observer to misrepresent at random, and he has, in fact, explained very well the true meaning of his remarks. goldsmith was an excitable irishman of genius, who tumbled out whatever came uppermost, and revealed the feelings of the moment with utter want of reserve. his self-controlled companions wondered, ridiculed, misinterpreted, and made fewer hits as well as fewer misses. his anxiety to "get in and share," made him, according to johnson, an "unsocial" companion. "goldsmith," he said, "had not temper enough for the game he played. he staked too much. a man might always get a fall from his inferior in the chances of talk, and goldsmith felt his falls too keenly." he had certainly some trials of temper in johnson's company. "stay, stay," said a german, stopping him in the full flow of his eloquence, "toctor johnson is going to say something." an eton master called graham, who was supping with the two doctors, and had got to the pitch of looking at one person, and talking to another, said, "doctor, i shall be glad to see _you_ at eton." "i shall be glad to wait on you," said goldsmith. "no," replied graham, "'tis not you i mean, doctor minor; 'tis doctor major there." poor goldsmith said afterwards, "graham is a fellow to make one commit suicide." boswell who attributes some of goldsmith's sayings about johnson to envy, said with probable truth that goldsmith had not more envy than others, but only spoke of it more freely. johnson argued that we must be angry with a man who had so much of an odious quality that he could not keep it to himself, but let it "boil over." the feeling, at any rate, was momentary and totally free from malice; and goldsmith's criticisms upon johnson and his idolators seem to have been fair enough. his objection to boswell's substituting a monarchy for a republic has already been mentioned. at another time he checked boswell's flow of panegyric by asking, "is he like burke, who winds into a subject like a serpent?" to which boswell replied with charming irrelevance, "johnson is the hercules who strangled serpents in his cradle." the last of goldsmith's hits was suggested by johnson's shaking his sides with laughter because goldsmith admired the skill with which the little fishes in the fable were made to talk in character. "why, dr. johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think," was the retort, "for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales." in spite of sundry little sparrings, johnson fully appreciated goldsmith's genius. possibly his authority hastened the spread of public appreciation, as he seemed to claim, whilst repudiating boswell's too flattering theory that it had materially raised goldsmith's position. when reynolds quoted the authority of fox in favour of the _traveller_, saying that his friends might suspect that they had been too partial, johnson replied very truly that the _traveller_ was beyond the need of fox's praise, and that the partiality of goldsmith's friends had always been against him. they would hardly give him a hearing. "goldsmith," he added, "was a man who, whatever he wrote, always did it better than any other man could do." johnson's settled opinion in fact was that embodied in the famous epitaph with its "nihil tetigit quod non ornavit," and, though dedications are perhaps the only literary product more generally insincere than epitaphs, we may believe that goldsmith too meant what he said in the dedication of _she stoops to conquer_. "it may do me some honour to inform the public that i have lived many years in intimacy with you. it may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety." though johnson was thus rich in friendship, two connexions have still to be noticed which had an exceptional bearing upon his fame and happiness. in january, , he made the acquaintance of the thrales. mr. thrale was the proprietor of the brewery which afterwards became that of barclay and perkins. he was married in to a miss hester lynch salisbury, who has become celebrated from her friendship with johnson.[ ] she was a woman of great vivacity and independence of character. she had a sensitive and passionate, if not a very tender nature, and enough literary culture to appreciate johnson's intellectual power, and on occasion to play a very respectable part in conversation. she had far more latin and english scholarship than fell to the lot of most ladies of her day, and wit enough to preserve her from degenerating like some of the "blues," into that most offensive of beings--a feminine prig. her marriage had been one of convenience, and her husband's want of sympathy, and jealousy of any interference in business matters, forced her, she says, to take to literature as her sole resource. "no wonder," she adds, "if i loved my books and children." it is, perhaps, more to be wondered at that her children seem to have had a rather subordinate place in her affections. the marriage, however, though not of the happiest, was perfectly decorous. mrs. thrale discharged her domestic duties irreproachably, even when she seems to have had some real cause of complaint. to the world she eclipsed her husband, a solid respectable man, whose mind, according to johnson, struck the hours very regularly, though it did not mark the minutes. [footnote : mrs. thrale was born in or , probably the latter. thrale was born in .] the thrales were introduced to johnson by their common friend, arthur murphy, an actor and dramatist, who afterwards became the editor of johnson's works. one day, when calling upon johnson, they found him in such a fit of despair that thrale tried to stop his mouth by placing his hand before it. the pair then joined in begging johnson to leave his solitary abode, and come to them at their country-house at streatham. he complied, and for the next sixteen years a room was set apart for him, both at streatham and in their house in southwark. he passed a large part of his time with them, and derived from the intimacy most of the comfort of his later years. he treated mrs. thrale with a kind of paternal gallantry, her age at the time of their acquaintance being about twenty-four, and his fifty-five. he generally called her by the playful name of "my mistress," addressed little poems to her, gave her solid advice, and gradually came to confide to her his miseries and ailments with rather surprising frankness. she flattered and amused him, and soothed his sufferings and did something towards humanizing his rugged exterior. there was one little grievance between them which requires notice. johnson's pet virtue in private life was a rigid regard for truth. he spoke, it was said of him, as if he was always on oath. he would not, for example, allow his servant to use the phrase "not at home," and even in the heat of conversation resisted the temptation to give point to an anecdote. the lively mrs. thrale rather fretted against the restraint, and johnson admonished her in vain. he complained to boswell that she was willing to have that said of her, which the best of mankind had died rather than have said of them. boswell, the faithful imitator of his master in this respect, delighted in taking up the parable. "now, madam, give me leave to catch you in the fact," he said on one occasion; "it was not an old woman, but an old man whom i mentioned, as having told me this," and he recounts his check to the "lively lady" with intense complacency. as may be imagined, boswell and mrs. thrale did not love each other, in spite of the well-meant efforts of the sage to bring about a friendly feeling between his disciples. it is time to close this list of friends with the inimitable boswell. james boswell, born in , was the eldest son of a whig laird and lord of sessions. he had acquired some english friends at the scotch universities, among whom must be mentioned mr. temple, an english clergyman. boswell's correspondence with temple, discovered years after his death by a singular chance, and published in , is, after the life of johnson, one of the most curious exhibitions of character in the language. boswell was intended for the scotch bar, and studied civil law at utrecht in the winter of . it was in the following summer that he made johnson's acquaintance. perhaps the fundamental quality in boswell's character was his intense capacity for enjoyment. he was, as mr. carlyle puts it, "gluttonously fond of whatever would yield him a little solacement, were it only of a stomachic character." his love of good living and good drink would have made him a hearty admirer of his countryman, burns, had burns been famous in boswell's youth. nobody could have joined with more thorough abandonment in the chorus to the poet's liveliest songs in praise of love and wine. he would have made an excellent fourth when "willie brewed a peck of malt, and rab and allan came to see," and the drinking contest for the whistle commemorated in another lyric would have excited his keenest interest. he was always delighted when he could get johnson to discuss the ethics and statistics of drinking. "i am myself," he says, "a lover of wine, and therefore curious to hear whatever is remarkable concerning drinking." the remark is _à propos_ to a story of dr. campbell drinking thirteen bottles of port at a sitting. lest this should seem incredible, he quotes johnson's dictum. "sir, if a man drinks very slowly and lets one glass evaporate before he takes another, i know not how long he may drink." boswell's faculty for making love was as great as his power of drinking. his letters to temple record with amusing frankness the vicissitudes of some of his courtships and the versatility of his passions. boswell's tastes, however, were by no means limited to sensual or frivolous enjoyments. his appreciation of the bottle was combined with an equally hearty sensibility to more intellectual pleasures. he had not a spark of philosophic or poetic power, but within the ordinary range of such topics as can be discussed at a dinner-party, he had an abundant share of liveliness and intelligence. his palate was as keen for good talk as for good wine. he was an admirable recipient, if not an originator, of shrewd or humorous remarks upon life and manners. what in regard to sensual enjoyment was mere gluttony, appeared in higher matters as an insatiable curiosity. at times this faculty became intolerable to his neighbours. "i will not be baited with what and why," said poor johnson, one day in desperation. "why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail bushy?" "sir," said johnson on another occasion, when boswell was cross-examining a third person about him in his presence. "you have but two subjects, yourself and me. i am sick of both." boswell, however, was not to be repelled by such a retort as this, or even by ruder rebuffs. once when discussing the means of getting a friend to leave london, johnson said in revenge for a previous offence, "nay, sir, we'll send you to him. if your presence doesn't drive a man out of his house, nothing will." boswell was "horribly shocked," but he still stuck to his victim like a leech, and pried into the minutest details of his life and manners. he observed with conscientious accuracy that though johnson abstained from milk one fast-day, he did not reject it when put in his cup. he notes the whistlings and puffings, the trick of saying "too-too-too" of his idol: and it was a proud day when he won a bet by venturing to ask johnson what he did with certain scraped bits of orange-peel. his curiosity was not satisfied on this occasion; but it would have made him the prince of interviewers in these days. nothing delighted him so much as rubbing shoulders with any famous or notorious person. he scraped acquaintance with voltaire, wesley, rousseau, and paoli, as well as with mrs. rudd, a forgotten heroine of the _newgate calendar_. he was as eager to talk to hume the sceptic, or wilkes the demagogue, as to the orthodox tory, johnson; and, if repelled, it was from no deficiency in daring. in , he took advantage of his travels in corsica to introduce himself to lord chatham, then prime minister. the letter moderately ends by asking, "_could your lordship find time to honour me now and then with a letter?_ i have been told how favourably your lordship has spoken of me. to correspond with a paoli and with a chatham is enough to keep a young man ever ardent in the pursuit of virtuous fame." no other young man of the day, we may be sure, would have dared to make such a proposal to the majestic orator. his absurd vanity, and the greedy craving for notoriety at any cost, would have made boswell the most offensive of mortals, had not his unfeigned good-humour disarmed enmity. nobody could help laughing, or be inclined to take offence at his harmless absurdities. burke said of him that he had so much good-humour naturally, that it was scarcely a virtue. his vanity, in fact, did not generate affectation. most vain men are vain of qualities which they do not really possess, or possess in a lower degree than they fancy. they are always acting a part, and become touchy from a half-conscious sense of the imposture. but boswell seems to have had few such illusions. he thoroughly and unfeignedly enjoyed his own peculiarities, and thought his real self much too charming an object to be in need of any disguise. no man, therefore, was ever less embarrassed by any regard for his own dignity. he was as ready to join in a laugh at himself as in a laugh at his neighbours. he reveals his own absurdities to the world at large as frankly as pepys confided them to a journal in cypher. he tells us how drunk he got one night in skye, and how he cured his headache with brandy next morning; and what an intolerable fool he made of himself at an evening party in london after a dinner with the duke of montrose, and how johnson in vain did his best to keep him quiet. his motive for the concession is partly the wish to illustrate johnson's indulgence, and, in the last case, to introduce a copy of apologetic verses to the lady whose guest he had been. he reveals other weaknesses with equal frankness. one day, he says, "i owned to johnson that i was occasionally troubled with a fit of narrowness." "why, sir," said he, "so am i. _but i do not tell it_." boswell enjoys the joke far too heartily to act upon the advice. there is nothing, however, which boswell seems to have enjoyed more heartily than his own good impulses. he looks upon his virtuous resolution with a sort of aesthetic satisfaction, and with the glow of a virtuous man contemplating a promising penitent. whilst suffering severely from the consequences of imprudent conduct, he gets a letter of virtuous advice from his friend temple. he instantly sees himself reformed for the rest of his days. "my warm imagination," he says, "looks forward with great complacency on the sobriety, the healthfulness, and worth of my future life." "every instance of our doing those things which we ought not to have done, and leaving undone those things which we ought to have done, is attended," as he elsewhere sagely observes, "with more or less of what is truly remorse;" but he seems rather to have enjoyed even the remorse. it is needless to say that the complacency was its own reward, and that the resolution vanished like other more eccentric impulses. music, he once told johnson, affected him intensely, producing in his mind "alternate sensations of pathetic dejection, so that i was ready to shed tears, and of daring resolution so that i was inclined to rush into the thickest of the [purely hypothetical] battle." "sir," replied johnson, "i should never hear it, if it made me such a fool." elsewhere he expresses a wish to "fly to the woods," or retire into a desert, a disposition which johnson checked by one of his habitual gibes at the quantity of easily accessible desert in scotland. boswell is equally frank in describing himself in situations more provocative of contempt than even drunkenness in a drawing-room. he tells us how dreadfully frightened he was by a storm at sea in the hebrides, and how one of his companions, "with a happy readiness," made him lay hold of a rope fastened to the masthead, and told him to pull it when he was ordered. boswell was thus kept quiet in mind and harmless in body. this extreme simplicity of character makes poor boswell loveable in his way. if he sought notoriety, he did not so far mistake his powers as to set up for independent notoriety.[ ] he was content to shine in reflected light: and the affectations with which he is charged seem to have been unconscious imitations of his great idol. miss burney traced some likeness even in his dress. in the later part of the _life_ we meet phrases in which boswell is evidently aping the true johnsonian style. so, for example, when somebody distinguishes between "moral" and "physical necessity;" boswell exclaims, "alas, sir, they come both to the same thing. you may be as hard bound by chains when covered by leather, as when the iron appears." but he specially emulates the profound melancholy of his hero. he seems to have taken pride in his sufferings from hypochondria; though, in truth, his melancholy diverges from johnson's by as great a difference as that which divides any two varieties in jaques's classification. boswell's was the melancholy of a man who spends too much, drinks too much, falls in love too often, and is forced to live in the country in dependence upon a stern old parent, when he is longing for a jovial life in london taverns. still he was excusably vexed when johnson refused to believe in the reality of his complaints, and showed scant sympathy to his noisy would-be fellow-sufferer. some of boswell's freaks were, in fact, very trying. once he gave up writing letters for a long time, to see whether johnson would be induced to write first. johnson became anxious, though he half-guessed the truth, and in reference to boswell's confession gave his disciple a piece of his mind. "remember that all tricks are either knavish or childish, and that it is as foolish to make experiments upon the constancy of a friend as upon the chastity of a wife." [footnote : the story is often told how boswell appeared at the stratford jubilee with "corsica boswell" in large letters on his hat. the account given apparently by himself is sufficiently amusing, but the statement is not quite fair. boswell not unnaturally appeared at a masquerade in the dress of a corsican chief, and the inscription on his hat seems to have been "viva la libertà."] in other ways boswell was more successful in aping his friend's peculiarities. when in company with johnson, he became delightfully pious. "my dear sir," he exclaimed once with unrestrained fervour, "i would fain be a good man, and i am very good now. i fear god and honour the king; i wish to do no ill and to be benevolent to all mankind." boswell hopes, "for the felicity of human nature," that many experience this mood; though johnson judiciously suggested that he should not trust too much to impressions. in some matters boswell showed a touch of independence by outvying the johnsonian prejudices. he was a warm admirer of feudal principles, and especially held to the propriety of entailing property upon heirs male. johnson had great difficulty in persuading him to yield to his father's wishes, in a settlement of the estate which contravened this theory. but boswell takes care to declare that his opinion was not shaken. "yet let me not be thought," he adds, "harsh or unkind to daughters; for my notion is that they should be treated with great affection and tenderness, and always participate of the prosperity of the family." his estimate of female rights is indicated in another phrase. when mrs. knowles, the quaker, expressed a hope that the sexes would be equal in another world, boswell replied, "that is too ambitious, madam. _we_ might as well desire to be equal with the angels." boswell, again, differed from johnson--who, in spite of his love of authority, had a righteous hatred for all recognized tyranny--by advocating the slave-trade. to abolish that trade would, he says, be robbery of the masters and cruelty to the african savages. nay, he declares, to abolish it would be to shut the gates of mercy on mankind! boswell was, according to johnson, "the best travelling companion in the world." in fact, for such purposes, unfailing good-humour and readiness to make talk at all hazards are high recommendations. "if, sir, you were shut up in a castle and a new-born baby with you, what would you do?" is one of his questions to johnson,--_à propos_ of nothing. that is exquisitely ludicrous, no doubt; but a man capable of preferring such a remark to silence helps at any rate to keep the ball rolling. a more objectionable trick was his habit not only of asking preposterous or indiscreet questions, but of setting people by the ears out of sheer curiosity. the appearance of so queer a satellite excited astonishment among johnson's friends. "who is this scotch cur at johnson's heels?" asked some one. "he is not a cur," replied goldsmith; "he is only a bur. tom davies flung him at johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." the bur stuck till the end of johnson's life. boswell visited london whenever he could, and soon began taking careful notes of johnson's talk. his appearance, when engaged in this task long afterwards, is described by miss burney. boswell, she says, concentrated his whole attention upon his idol, not even answering questions from others. when johnson spoke, his eyes goggled with eagerness; he leant his ear almost on the doctor's shoulder; his mouth dropped open to catch every syllable; and he seemed to listen even to johnson's breathings as though they had some mystical significance. he took every opportunity of edging himself close to johnson's side even at meal-times, and was sometimes ordered imperiously back to his place like a faithful but over-obtrusive spaniel. it is hardly surprising that johnson should have been touched by the fidelity of this queer follower. boswell, modestly enough, attributes johnson's easy welcome to his interest in all manifestations of the human mind, and his pleasure in an undisguised display of its workings. the last pleasure was certainly to be obtained in boswell's society. but in fact boswell, though his qualities were too much those of the ordinary "good fellow," was not without virtues, and still less without remarkable talents. he was, to all appearance, a man of really generous sympathies, and capable of appreciating proofs of a warm heart and a vigorous understanding. foolish, vain, and absurd in every way, he was yet a far kindlier and more genuine man than many who laughed at him. his singular gifts as an observer could only escape notice from a careless or inexperienced reader. boswell has a little of the true shaksperian secret. he lets his characters show themselves without obtruding unnecessary comment. he never misses the point of a story, though he does not ostentatiously call our attention to it. he gives just what is wanted to indicate character, or to explain the full meaning of a repartee. it is not till we compare his reports with those of less skilful hearers, that we can appreciate the skill with which the essence of a conversation is extracted, and the whole scene indicated by a few telling touches. we are tempted to fancy that we have heard the very thing, and rashly infer that boswell was simply the mechanical transmitter of the good things uttered. any one who will try to put down the pith of a brilliant conversation within the same space, may soon satisfy himself of the absurdity of such an hypothesis, and will learn to appreciate boswell's powers not only of memory but artistic representation. such a feat implies not only admirable quickness of appreciation, but a rare literary faculty. boswell's accuracy is remarkable; but it is the least part of his merit. the book which so faithfully reflects the peculiarities of its hero and its author became the first specimen of a new literary type. johnson himself was a master in one kind of biography; that which sets forth a condensed and vigorous statement of the essentials of a man's life and character. other biographers had given excellent memoirs of men considered in relation to the chief historical currents of the time. but a full-length portrait of a man's domestic life with enough picturesque detail to enable us to see him through the eyes of private friendship did not exist in the language. boswell's originality and merit may be tested by comparing his book to the ponderous performance of sir john hawkins, or to the dreary dissertations, falsely called lives, of which dugald stewart's _life of robertson_ may be taken for a type. the writer is so anxious to be dignified and philosophical that the despairing reader seeks in vain for a single vivid touch, and discovers even the main facts of the hero's life by some indirect allusion. boswell's example has been more or less followed by innumerable successors; and we owe it in some degree to his example that we have such delightful books as lockhart's _life of scott_ or mr. trevelyan's _life of macaulay_. yet no later biographer has been quite as fortunate in a subject; and boswell remains as not only the first, but the best of his class. one special merit implies something like genius. macaulay has given to the usual complaint which distorts the vision of most biographers the name of _lues boswelliana_. it is true that boswell's adoration of his hero is a typical example of the feeling. but that which distinguishes boswell, and renders the phrase unjust, is that in him adoration never hindered accuracy of portraiture. "i will not make my tiger a cat to please anybody," was his answer to well-meaning entreaties of hannah more to soften his accounts of johnson's asperities. he saw instinctively that a man who is worth anything loses far more than he gains by such posthumous flattery. the whole picture is toned down, and the lights are depressed as well as the shadows. the truth is that it is unscientific to consider a man as a bundle of separate good and bad qualities, of which one half may be concealed without injury to the rest. johnson's fits of bad temper, like goldsmith's blundering, must be unsparingly revealed by a biographer, because they are in fact expressions of the whole character. it is necessary to take them into account in order really to understand either the merits or the shortcomings. when they are softened or omitted, the whole story becomes an enigma, and we are often tempted to substitute some less creditable explanation of errors for the true one. we should not do justice to johnson's intense tenderness, if we did not see how often it was masked by an irritability pardonable in itself, and not affecting the deeper springs of action. to bring out the beauty of a character by means of its external oddities is the triumph of a kindly humourist; and boswell would have acted as absurdly in suppressing johnson's weaknesses, as sterne would have done had he made uncle toby a perfectly sound and rational person. but to see this required an insight so rare that it is wanting in nearly all the biographers who have followed boswell's steps, and is the most conclusive proof that boswell was a man of a higher intellectual capacity than has been generally admitted. chapter iv. johnson as a literary dictator. we have now reached the point at which johnson's life becomes distinctly visible through the eyes of a competent observer. the last twenty years are those which are really familiar to us; and little remains but to give some brief selection of boswell's anecdotes. the task, however, is a difficult one. it is easy enough to make a selection of the gems of boswell's narrative; but it is also inevitable that, taken from their setting, they should lose the greatest part of their brilliance. we lose all the quaint semiconscious touches of character which make the original so fascinating; and boswell's absurdities become less amusing when we are able to forget for an instant that the perpetrator is also the narrator. the effort, however, must be made; and it will be best to premise a brief statement of the external conditions of the life. from the time of the pension until his death, johnson was elevated above the fear of poverty. he had a pleasant refuge at the thrales', where much of his time was spent; and many friends gathered round him and regarded his utterances with even excessive admiration. he had still frequent periods of profound depression. his diaries reveal an inner life tormented by gloomy forebodings, by remorse for past indolence and futile resolutions of amendment; but he could always escape from himself to a society of friends and admirers. his abandonment of wine seems to have improved his health and diminished the intensity of his melancholy fits. his literary activity, however, nearly ceased. he wrote a few political pamphlets in defence of government, and after a long period of indolence managed to complete his last conspicuous work--the _lives of the poets_, which was published in and . one other book of some interest appeared in . it was an account of the journey made with boswell to the hebrides in . this journey was in fact the chief interruption to the even tenour of his life. he made a tour to wales with the thrales in ; and spent a month with them in paris in . for the rest of the period he lived chiefly in london or at streatham, making occasional trips to lichfield and oxford, or paying visits to taylor, langton, and one or two other friends. it was, however, in the london which he loved so ardently ("a man," he said once, "who is tired of london is tired of life"), that he was chiefly conspicuous. there he talked and drank tea illimitably at his friends' houses, or argued and laid down the law to his disciples collected in a tavern instead of academic groves. especially he was in all his glory at the club, which began its meetings in february, , and was afterwards known as the literary club. this club was founded by sir joshua reynolds, "our romulus," as johnson called him. the original members were reynolds, johnson, burke, nugent, beauclerk, langton, goldsmith, chamier, and hawkins. they met weekly at the turk's head, in gerard street, soho, at seven o'clock, and the talk generally continued till a late hour. the club was afterwards increased in numbers, and the weekly supper changed to a fortnightly dinner. it continued to thrive, and election to it came to be as great an honour in certain circles as election to a membership of parliament. among the members elected in johnson's lifetime were percy of the _reliques_, garrick, sir w. jones, boswell, fox, steevens, gibbon, adam smith, the wartons, sheridan, dunning, sir joseph banks, windham, lord stowell, malone, and dr. burney. what was best in the conversation at the time was doubtless to be found at its meetings. johnson's habitual mode of life is described by dr. maxwell, one of boswell's friends, who made his acquaintance in . maxwell generally called upon him about twelve, and found him in bed or declaiming over his tea. a levée, chiefly of literary men, surrounded him; and he seemed to be regarded as a kind of oracle to whom every one might resort for advice or instruction. after talking all the morning, he dined at a tavern, staying late and then going to some friend's house for tea, over which he again loitered for a long time. maxwell is puzzled to know when he could have read or written. the answer seems to be pretty obvious; namely, that after the publication of the _dictionary_ he wrote very little, and that, when he did write, it was generally in a brief spasm of feverish energy. one may understand that johnson should have frequently reproached himself for his indolence; though he seems to have occasionally comforted himself by thinking that he could do good by talking as well as by writing. he said that a man should have a part of his life to himself; and compared himself to a physician retired to a small town from practice in a great city. boswell, in spite of this, said that he still wondered that johnson had not more pleasure in writing than in not writing. "sir," replied the oracle, "you _may_ wonder." i will now endeavour, with boswell's guidance, to describe a few of the characteristic scenes which can be fully enjoyed in his pages alone. the first must be the introduction of boswell to the sage. boswell had come to london eager for the acquaintance of literary magnates. he already knew goldsmith, who had inflamed his desire for an introduction to johnson. once when boswell spoke of levett, one of johnson's dependents, goldsmith had said, "he is poor and honest, which is recommendation enough to johnson." another time, when boswell had wondered at johnson's kindness to a man of bad character, goldsmith had replied, "he is now become miserable, and that insures the protection of johnson." boswell had hoped for an introduction through the elder sheridan; but sheridan never forgot the contemptuous phrase in which johnson had referred to his fellow-pensioner. possibly sheridan had heard of one other johnsonian remark. "why, sir," he had said, "sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him. such an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in nature." at another time he said, "sheridan cannot bear me; i bring his declamation to a point." "what influence can mr. sheridan have upon the language of this great country by his narrow exertions? sir, it is burning a farthing candle at dover to show light at calais." boswell, however, was acquainted with davies, an actor turned bookseller, now chiefly remembered by a line in churchill's _rosciad_ which is said to have driven him from the stage-- he mouths a sentence as curs mouth a bone. boswell was drinking tea with davies and his wife in their back parlour when johnson came into the shop. davies, seeing him through the glass-door, announced his approach to boswell in the spirit of horatio addressing hamlet: "look, my lord, it comes!" davies introduced the young scotchman, who remembered johnson's proverbial prejudices. "don't tell him where i come from!" cried boswell. "from scotland," said davies roguishly. "mr. johnson," said boswell, "i do indeed come from scotland; but i cannot help it!" "that, sir," was the first of johnson's many retorts to his worshipper, "is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help." poor boswell was stunned; but he recovered when johnson observed to davies, "what do you think of garrick? he has refused me an order for the play for miss williams because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings." "o, sir," intruded the unlucky boswell, "i cannot think mr. garrick would grudge such a trifle to you." "sir," replied johnson sternly, "i have known david garrick longer than you have done, and i know no right you have to talk to me on the subject." the second blow might have crushed a less intrepid curiosity. boswell, though silenced, gradually recovered sufficiently to listen, and afterwards to note down parts of the conversation. as the interview went on, he even ventured to make a remark or two, which were very civilly received; davies consoled him at his departure by assuring him that the great man liked him very well. "i cannot conceive a more humiliating position," said beauclerk on another occasion, "than to be clapped on the back by tom davies." for the present, however, even tom davies was a welcome encourager to one who, for the rest, was not easily rebuffed. a few days afterwards boswell ventured a call, was kindly received and detained for some time by "the giant in his den." he was still a little afraid of the said giant, who had shortly before administered a vigorous retort to his countryman blair. blair had asked johnson whether he thought that any man of a modern age could have written _ossian_. "yes, sir," replied johnson, "many men, many women, and many children." boswell, however, got on very well, and before long had the high honour of drinking a bottle of port with johnson at the mitre, and receiving, after a little autobiographical sketch, the emphatic approval, "give me your hand, i have taken a liking to you." in a very short time boswell was on sufficiently easy terms with johnson, not merely to frequent his levées but to ask him to dinner at the mitre. he gathered up, though without the skill of his later performances, some fragments of the conversational feast. the great man aimed another blow or two at scotch prejudices. to an unlucky compatriot of boswell's, who claimed for his country a great many "noble wild prospects," johnson replied, "i believe, sir, you have a great many, norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. but, sir, let me tell you the noblest prospect which a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to england." though boswell makes a slight remonstrance about the "rude grandeur of nature" as seen in "caledonia," he sympathized in this with his teacher. johnson said afterwards, that he never knew any one with "such a gust for london." before long he was trying boswell's tastes by asking him in greenwich park, "is not this very fine?" "yes, sir," replied the promising disciple, "but not equal to fleet street." "you are right, sir," said the sage; and boswell illustrates his dictum by the authority of a "very fashionable baronet," and, moreover, a baronet from rydal, who declared that the fragrance of a may evening in the country might be very well, but that he preferred the smell of a flambeau at the playhouse. in more serious moods johnson delighted his new disciple by discussions upon theological, social, and literary topics. he argued with an unfortunate friend of boswell's, whose mind, it appears, had been poisoned by hume, and who was, moreover, rash enough to undertake the defence of principles of political equality. johnson's view of all propagators of new opinions was tolerably simple. "hume, and other sceptical innovators," he said, "are vain men, and will gratify themselves at any expense. truth will not afford sufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to error. truth, sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull." on another occasion poor boswell, not yet acquainted with the master's prejudices, quoted with hearty laughter a "very strange" story which hume had told him of johnson. according to hume, johnson had said that he would stand before a battery of cannon to restore convocation to its full powers. "and would i not, sir?" thundered out the sage with flashing eyes and threatening gestures. boswell judiciously bowed to the storm, and diverted johnson's attention. another manifestation of orthodox prejudice was less terrible. boswell told johnson that he had heard a quaker woman preach. "a woman's preaching," said johnson, "is like a dog's walking on his hind legs. it is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all." so friendly had the pair become, that when boswell left england to continue his studies at utrecht, johnson accompanied him in the stage-coach to harwich, amusing him on the way by his frankness of address to fellow-passengers, and by the voracity of his appetite. he gave him some excellent advice, remarking of a moth which fluttered into a candle, "that creature was its own tormentor, and i believe its name was boswell." he refuted berkeley by striking his foot with mighty force against a large stone, till he rebounded from it. as the ship put out to sea boswell watched him from the deck, whilst he remained "rolling his majestic frame in his usual manner." and so the friendship was cemented, though boswell disappeared for a time from the scene, travelled on the continent, and visited paoli in corsica. a friendly letter or two kept up the connexion till boswell returned in , with his head full of corsica and a projected book of travels. in the next year, , occurred an incident upon which boswell dwells with extreme complacency. johnson was in the habit of sometimes reading in the king's library, and it came into the head of his majesty that he should like to see the uncouth monster upon whom he had bestowed a pension. in spite of his semi-humorous jacobitism, there was probably not a more loyal subject in his majesty's dominions. loyalty is a word too often used to designate a sentiment worthy only of valets, advertising tradesmen, and writers of claptrap articles. but it deserves all respect when it reposes, as in johnson's case, upon a profound conviction of the value of political subordination, and an acceptance of the king as the authorized representative of a great principle. there was no touch of servility in johnson's respect for his sovereign, a respect fully reconcilable with a sense of his own personal dignity. johnson spoke of his interview with an unfeigned satisfaction, which it would be difficult in these days to preserve from the taint of snobbishness. he described it frequently to his friends, and boswell with pious care ascertained the details from johnson himself, and from various secondary sources. he contrived afterwards to get his minute submitted to the king himself, who graciously authorized its publication. when he was preparing his biography, he published this account with the letter to chesterfield in a small pamphlet sold at a prohibitory price, in order to secure the copyright. "i find," said johnson afterwards, "that it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. in the first place a man cannot be in a passion." what other advantages he perceived must be unknown, for here the oracle was interrupted. but whatever the advantages, it could hardly be reckoned amongst them, that there would be room for the hearty cut and thrust retorts which enlivened his ordinary talk. to us accordingly the conversation is chiefly interesting as illustrating what johnson meant by his politeness. he found that the king wanted him to talk, and he talked accordingly. he spoke in a "firm manly manner, with a sonorous voice," and not in the subdued tone customary at formal receptions. he dilated upon various literary topics, on the libraries of oxford and cambridge, on some contemporary controversies, on the quack dr. hill, and upon the reviews of the day. all that is worth repeating is a complimentary passage which shows johnson's possession of that courtesy which rests upon sense and self-respect. the king asked whether he was writing anything, and johnson excused himself by saying that he had told the world what he knew for the present, and had "done his part as a writer." "i should have thought so too," said the king, "if you had not written so well." "no man," said johnson, "could have paid a higher compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay--it was decisive." when asked if he had replied, he said, "no, sir. when the king had said it, it was to be. it was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign." johnson was not the less delighted. "sir," he said to the librarian, "they may talk of the king as they will, but he is the finest gentleman i have ever seen." and he afterwards compared his manners to those of louis xiv., and his favourite, charles ii. goldsmith, says boswell, was silent during the narrative, because (so his kind friend supposed) he was jealous of the honour paid to the dictator. but his natural simplicity prevailed. he ran to johnson, and exclaimed in 'a kind of flutter,' "well, you acquitted yourself in this conversation better than i should have done, for i should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it." the years and were a period of great excitement for boswell. he was carrying on various love affairs, which ended with his marriage in the end of . he was publishing his book upon corsica and paying homage to paoli, who arrived in england in the autumn of the same year. the book appeared in the beginning of , and he begs his friend temple to report all that is said about it, but with the restriction that he is to conceal _all censure_. he particularly wanted gray's opinion, as gray was a friend of temple's. gray's opinion, not conveyed to boswell, was expressed by his calling it "a dialogue between a green goose and a hero." boswell, who was cultivating the society of various eminent people, exclaims triumphantly in a letter to temple (april , ), "i am really the great man now." johnson and hume had called upon him on the same day, and garrick, franklin, and oglethorpe also partook of his "admirable dinners and good claret." "this," he says, with the sense that he deserved his honours, "is enjoying the fruit of my labours, and appearing like the friend of paoli." johnson in vain expressed a wish that he would "empty his head of corsica, which had filled it too long." "empty my head of corsica! empty it of honour, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety!" exclaims the ardent youth. the next year accordingly saw boswell's appearance at the stratford jubilee, where he paraded to the admiration of all beholders in a costume described by himself (apparently) in a glowing article in the _london magazine_. "is it wrong, sir," he took speedy opportunity of inquiring from the oracle, "to affect singularity in order to make people stare?" "yes," replied johnson, "if you do it by propagating error, and indeed it is wrong in any way. there is in human nature a general inclination to make people stare, and every wise man has himself to cure of it, and does cure himself. if you wish to make people stare by doing better than others, why make them stare till they stare their eyes out. but consider how easy it is to make people stare by being absurd"--a proposition which he proceeds to illustrate by examples perhaps less telling than boswell's recent performance. the sage was less communicative on the question of marriage, though boswell had anticipated some "instructive conversation" upon that topic. his sole remark was one from which boswell "humbly differed." johnson maintained that a wife was not the worse for being learned. boswell, on the other hand, defined the proper degree of intelligence to be desired in a female companion by some verses in which sir thomas overbury says that a wife should have some knowledge, and be "by nature wise, not learned much by art." johnson said afterwards that mrs. boswell was in a proper degree inferior to her husband. so far as we can tell, she seems to have been a really sensible, and good woman, who kept her husband's absurdities in check, and was, in her way, a better wife than he deserved. so, happily, are most wives. johnson and boswell had several meetings in . boswell had the honour of introducing the two objects of his idolatry, johnson and paoli, and on another occasion entertained a party including goldsmith and garrick and reynolds, at his lodgings in old bond street. we can still see the meeting more distinctly than many that have been swallowed by a few days of oblivion. they waited for one of the party, johnson kindly maintaining that six ought to be kept waiting for one, if the one would suffer more by the others sitting down than the six by waiting. meanwhile garrick "played round johnson with a fond vivacity, taking hold of the breasts of his coat, looking up in his face with a lively archness," and complimenting him on his good health. goldsmith strutted about bragging of his dress, of which boswell, in the serene consciousness of superiority to such weakness, thought him seriously vain. "let me tell you," said goldsmith, "when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, he said, 'sir, i have a favour to beg of you; when anybody asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention john filby, at the harrow, water lane.'" "why, sir," said johnson, "that was because he knew that the strange colour would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could make a coat even of so absurd a colour." mr. filby has gone the way of all tailors and bloom-coloured coats, but some of his bills are preserved. on the day of this dinner he had delivered to goldsmith a half-dress suit of ratteen lined with satin, costing twelve guineas, a pair of silk stocking-breeches for £ _s_. and a pair of bloom-coloured ditto for £ _s_. _d_. the bill, including other items, was paid, it is satisfactory to add, in february, . the conversation was chiefly literary. johnson repeated the concluding lines of the _dunciad_; upon which some one (probably boswell) ventured to say that they were "too fine for such a poem--a poem on what?" "why," said johnson, "on dunces! it was worth while being a dunce then. ah, sir, hadst _thou_ lived in those days!" johnson previously uttered a criticism which has led some people to think that he had a touch of the dunce in him. he declared that a description of a temple in congreve's _mourning bride_ was the finest he knew--finer than anything in shakspeare. garrick vainly protested; but johnson was inexorable. he compared congreve to a man who had only ten guineas in the world, but all in one coin; whereas shakspeare might have ten thousand separate guineas. the principle of the criticism is rather curious. "what i mean is," said johnson, "that you can show me no passage where there is simply a description of material objects, without any admixture of moral notions, which produces such an effect." the description of the night before agincourt was rejected because there were men in it; and the description of dover cliff because the boats and the crows "impede yon fall." they do "not impress your mind at once with the horrible idea of immense height. the impression is divided; you pass on by computation from one stage of the tremendous space to another." probably most people will think that the passage in question deserves a very slight fraction of the praise bestowed upon it; but the criticism, like most of johnson's, has a meaning which might be worth examining abstractedly from the special application which shocks the idolaters of shakspeare. presently the party discussed mrs. montagu, whose essay upon shakspeare had made some noise. johnson had a respect for her, caused in great measure by a sense of her liberality to his friend miss williams, of whom more must be said hereafter. he paid her some tremendous compliments, observing that some china plates which had belonged to queen elizabeth and to her, had no reason to be ashamed of a possessor so little inferior to the first. but he had his usual professional contempt for her amateur performances in literature. her defence of shakspeare against voltaire did her honour, he admitted, but it would do nobody else honour. "no, sir, there is no real criticism in it: none showing the beauty of thought, as formed on the workings of the human heart." mrs. montagu was reported once to have complimented a modern tragedian, probably jephson, by saying, "i tremble for shakspeare." "when shakspeare," said johnson, "has got jephson for his rival and mrs. montagu for his defender, he is in a poor state indeed." the conversation went on to a recently published book, _kames's elements of criticism_, which johnson praised, whilst goldsmith said more truly, "it is easier to write that book than to read it." johnson went on to speak of other critics. "there is no great merit," he said, "in telling how many plays have ghosts in them, and how this ghost is better than that. you must show how terror is impressed on the human heart. in the description of night in _macbeth_ the beetle and the bat detract from the general idea of darkness--inspissated gloom." after boswell's marriage he disappeared for some time from london, and his correspondence with johnson dropped, as he says, without coldness, from pure procrastination. he did not return to london till . in the spring of that and the following year he renewed his old habits of intimacy, and inquired into johnson's opinion upon various subjects ranging from ghosts to literary criticism. the height to which he had risen in the doctor's good opinion was marked by several symptoms. he was asked to dine at johnson's house upon easter day, ; and observes that his curiosity was as much gratified as by a previous dinner with rousseau in the "wilds of neufchatel." he was now able to report, to the amazement of many inquirers, that johnson's establishment was quite orderly. the meal consisted of very good soup, a boiled leg of lamb with spinach, a veal pie, and a rice pudding. a stronger testimony of good-will was his election, by johnson's influence, into the club. it ought apparently to be said that johnson forced him upon the club by letting it be understood that, till boswell was admitted, no other candidate would have a chance. boswell, however, was, as his proposer said, a thoroughly "clubable" man, and once a member, his good humour secured his popularity. on the important evening boswell dined at beauclerk's with his proposer and some other members. the talk turned upon goldsmith's merits; and johnson not only defended his poetry, but preferred him as a historian to robertson. such a judgment could be explained in boswell's opinion by nothing but johnson's dislike to the scotch. once before, when boswell had mentioned robertson in order to meet johnson's condemnation of scotch literature in general, johnson had evaded him; "sir, i love robertson, and i won't talk of his book." on the present occasion he said that he would give to robertson the advice offered by an old college tutor to a pupil; "read over your compositions, and whenever you meet with a passage which you think particularly fine, strike it out." a good anecdote of goldsmith followed. johnson had said to him once in the poet's corner at westminster,-- forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis. when they got to temple bar goldsmith pointed to the heads of the jacobites upon it and slily suggested,-- forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur _istis_. johnson next pronounced a critical judgment which should be set against many sins of that kind. he praised the _pilgrim's progress_ very warmly, and suggested that bunyan had probably read spenser. after more talk the gentlemen went to the club; and poor boswell remained trembling with an anxiety which even the claims of lady di beauclerk's conversation could not dissipate. the welcome news of his election was brought; and boswell went to see burke for the first time, and to receive a humorous charge from johnson, pointing out the conduct expected from him as a good member. perhaps some hints were given as to betrayal of confidence. boswell seems at any rate to have had a certain reserve in repeating club talk. this intimacy with johnson was about to receive a more public and even more impressive stamp. the antipathy to scotland and the scotch already noticed was one of johnson's most notorious crotchets. the origin of the prejudice was forgotten by johnson himself, though he was willing to accept a theory started by old sheridan that it was resentment for the betrayal of charles i. there is, however, nothing surprising in johnson's partaking a prejudice common enough from the days of his youth, when each people supposed itself to have been cheated by the union, and englishmen resented the advent of swarms of needy adventurers, talking with a strange accent and hanging together with honourable but vexatious persistence. johnson was irritated by what was, after all, a natural defence against english prejudice. he declared that the scotch were always ready to lie on each other's behalf. "the irish," he said, "are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen. no, sir, the irish are a fair people; they never speak well of one another." there was another difference. he always expressed a generous resentment against the tyranny exercised by english rulers over the irish people. to some one who defended the restriction of irish trade for the good of english merchants, he said, "sir, you talk the language of a savage. what! sir, would you prevent any people from feeding themselves, if by any honest means they can do it?" it was "better to hang or drown people at once," than weaken them by unrelenting persecution. he felt some tenderness for catholics, especially when oppressed, and a hearty antipathy towards prosperous presbyterians. the lowland scotch were typified by john knox, in regard to whom he expressed a hope, after viewing the ruins of st. andrew's, that he was buried "in the highway." this sturdy british and high church prejudice did not prevent the worthy doctor from having many warm friendships with scotchmen, and helping many distressed scotchmen in london. most of the amanuenses employed for his _dictionary_ were scotch. but he nourished the prejudice the more as giving an excellent pretext for many keen gibes. "scotch learning," he said, for example, "is like bread in a besieged town. every man gets a mouthful, but no man a bellyful." once strahan said in answer to some abusive remarks, "well, sir, god made scotland." "certainly," replied johnson, "but we must always remember that he made it for scotchmen; and comparisons are odious, mr. strahan, but god made hell." boswell, therefore, had reason to feel both triumph and alarm when he induced the great man to accompany him in a scotch tour. boswell's journal of the tour appeared soon after johnson's death. johnson himself wrote an account of it, which is not without interest, though it is in his dignified style, which does not condescend to boswellian touches of character. in the scotch highlands were still a little known region, justifying a book descriptive of manners and customs, and touching upon antiquities now the commonplaces of innumerable guide books. scott was still an infant, and the day of enthusiasm, real or affected, for mountain scenery had not yet dawned. neither of the travellers, as boswell remarks, cared much for "rural beauties." johnson says quaintly on the shores of loch ness, "it will very readily occur that this uniformity of barrenness can afford very little amusement to the traveller; that it is easy to sit at home and conceive rocks and heath and waterfalls; and that these journeys are useless labours, which neither impregnate the imagination nor enlarge the understanding." and though he shortly afterwards sits down on a bank "such as a writer of romance might have delighted to feign," and there conceived the thought of his book, he does not seem to have felt much enthusiasm. he checked boswell for describing a hill as "immense," and told him that it was only a "considerable protuberance." indeed it is not surprising if he sometimes grew weary in long rides upon highland ponies, or if, when weatherbound in a remote village in skye, he declared that this was a "waste of life." on the whole, however, johnson bore his fatigues well, preserved his temper, and made sensible remarks upon men and things. the pair started from edinburgh in the middle of august, ; they went north along the eastern coast, through st. andrew's, aberdeen, banff, fort george, and inverness. there they took to horses, rode to glenelg, and took boat for skye, where they landed on the nd of september. they visited rothsay, col, mull, and iona, and after some dangerous sailing got to the mainland at oban on october nd. thence they proceeded by inverary and loch lomond to glasgow; and after paying a visit to boswell's paternal mansion at auchinleck in ayrshire, returned to edinburgh in november. it were too long to narrate their adventures at length, or to describe in detail how johnson grieved over traces of the iconoclastic zeal of knox's disciples, seriously investigated stories of second-sight, cross-examined and brow-beat credulous believers in the authenticity of _ossian_, and felt his piety grow warm among the ruins of iona. once or twice, when the temper of the travellers was tried by the various worries incident to their position, poor boswell came in for some severe blows. but he was happy, feeling, as he remarks, like a dog who has run away with a large piece of meat, and is devouring it peacefully in a corner by himself. boswell's spirits were irrepressible. on hearing a drum beat for dinner at fort george, he says, with a pepys-like touch, "i for a little while fancied myself a military man, and it pleased me." he got scandalously drunk on one occasion, and showed reprehensible levity on others. he bored johnson by inquiring too curiously into his reasons for not wearing a nightcap--a subject which seems to have interested him profoundly; he permitted himself to say in his journal that he was so much pleased with some pretty ladies' maids at the duke of argyll's, that he felt he could "have been a knight-errant for them," and his "venerable fellow-traveller" read the passage without censuring his levity. the great man himself could be equally volatile. "i _have often thought_," he observed one day, to boswell's amusement, "that if i kept a seraglio, the ladies should all wear linen gowns"--as more cleanly. the pair agreed in trying to stimulate the feudal zeal of various highland chiefs with whom they came in contact, and who were unreasonable enough to show a hankering after the luxuries of civilization. though johnson seems to have been generally on his best behaviour, he had a rough encounter or two with some of the more civilized natives. boswell piloted him safely through a visit to lord monboddo, a man of real ability, though the proprietor of crochets as eccentric as johnson's, and consequently divided from him by strong mutual prejudices. at auchinleck he was less fortunate. the old laird, who was the staunchest of whigs, had not relished his son's hero-worship. "there is nae hope for jamie, mon; jamie is gaen clean gyte. what do you think, mon? he's done wi' paoli--he's off wi' the land-louping scoundrel of a corsican, and who's tail do you think he's pinned himself to now, mon?" "here," says sir walter scott, the authority for the story, "the old judge summoned up a sneer of most sovereign contempt. 'a dominie, mon--an auld dominie--he keeped a schule and caauld it an acaademy.'" the two managed to keep the peace till, one day during johnson's visit, they got upon oliver cromwell. boswell suppresses the scene with obvious reluctance, his openness being checked for once by filial respect. scott has fortunately preserved the climax of old boswell's argument. "what had cromwell done for his country?" asked johnson. "god, doctor, he gart kings ken that they had a _lith_ in their necks" retorted the laird, in a phrase worthy of mr. carlyle himself. scott reports one other scene, at which respectable commentators, like croker, hold up their hands in horror. should we regret or rejoice to say that it involves an obvious inaccuracy? the authority, however, is too good to allow us to suppose that it was without some foundation. adam smith, it is said, met johnson at glasgow and had an altercation with him about the well-known account of hume's death. as hume did not die till three years later, there must be some error in this. the dispute, however, whatever its date or subject, ended by johnson saying to smith, "_you lie_." "and what did you reply?" was asked of smith. "i said, 'you are a son of a -----.'" "on such terms," says scott, "did these two great moralists meet and part, and such was the classical dialogue between these two great teachers of morality." in the year boswell found it expedient to atone for his long absence in the previous year by staying at home. johnson managed to complete his account of the _scotch tour_, which was published at the end of the year. among other consequences was a violent controversy with the lovers of _ossian_. johnson was a thorough sceptic as to the authenticity of the book. his scepticism did not repose upon the philological or antiquarian reasonings, which would be applicable in the controversy from internal evidence. it was to some extent the expression of a general incredulity which astonished his friends, especially when contrasted with his tenderness for many puerile superstitions. he could scarcely be induced to admit the truth of any narrative which struck him as odd, and it was long, for example, before he would believe even in the lisbon earthquake. yet he seriously discussed the truth of second-sight; he carefully investigated the cock-lane ghost--a goblin who anticipated some of the modern phenomena of so-called "spiritualism," and with almost equal absurdity; he told stories to boswell about a "shadowy being" which had once been seen by cave, and declared that he had once heard his mother call "sam" when he was at oxford and she at lichfield. the apparent inconsistency was in truth natural enough. any man who clings with unreasonable pertinacity to the prejudices of his childhood, must be alternately credulous and sceptical in excess. in both cases, he judges by his fancies in defiance of evidence; and accepts and rejects according to his likes and dislikes, instead of his estimates of logical proof. _ossian_ would be naturally offensive to johnson, as one of the earliest and most remarkable manifestations of that growing taste for what was called "nature," as opposed to civilization, of which rousseau was the great mouthpiece. nobody more heartily despised this form of "cant" than johnson. a man who utterly despised the scenery of the hebrides as compared with greenwich park or charing cross, would hardly take kindly to the ossianesque version of the mountain passion. the book struck him as sheer rubbish. i have already quoted the retort about "many men, many women, and many children." "a man," he said, on another occasion, "might write such stuff for ever, if he would abandon his mind to it." the precise point, however, upon which he rested his case, was the tangible one of the inability of macpherson to produce the manuscripts of which he had affirmed the existence. macpherson wrote a furious letter to johnson, of which the purport can only be inferred from johnson's smashing retort,-- "mr. james macpherson, i have received your foolish and impudent letter. any violence offered me i shall do my best to repel; and what i cannot do for myself, the law shall do for me. i hope i shall never be deterred from detecting what i think a cheat by the menaces of a ruffian. "what would you have me retract? i thought your book an imposture: i think it an imposture still. for this opinion i have given my reasons to the public, which i here dare you to refute. your rage i defy. your abilities, since your _homer_, are not so formidable; and what i hear of your morals inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. you may print this if you will. "sam. johnson." and so laying in a tremendous cudgel, the old gentleman (he was now sixty-six) awaited the assault, which, however, was not delivered. in boswell again came to london, and renewed some of the scotch discussions. he attended a meeting of the literary club, and found the members disposed to laugh at johnson's tenderness to the stories about second-sight. boswell heroically avowed his own belief. "the evidence," he said, "is enough for me, though not for his great mind. what will not fill a quart bottle, will fill a pint bottle. i am filled with belief." "are you?" said colman; "then cork it up." it was during this and the next few years that boswell laboured most successfully in gathering materials for his book. in he only met johnson in the country. in , for some unexplained reason, he was lazy in making notes; in and he was absent from london; and in the following year, johnson was visibly declining. the tenour of johnson's life was interrupted during this period by no remarkable incidents, and his literary activity was not great, although the composition of the _lives of the poets_ falls between and . his mind, however, as represented by his talk, was in full vigour. i will take in order of time a few of the passages recorded by boswell, which may serve for various reasons to afford the best illustration of his character. yet it may be worth while once more to repeat the warning that such fragments moved from their context must lose most of their charm. on march th ( ), boswell met johnson at the house of the publisher, strahan. strahan reminded johnson of a characteristic remark which he had formerly made, that there are "few ways in which a man can be more innocently employed than in getting money." on another occasion johnson observed with equal truth, if less originality, that cultivating kindness was an important part of life, as well as money-making. johnson then asked to see a country lad whom he had recommended to strahan as an apprentice. he asked for five guineas on account, that he might give one to the boy. "nay, if a man recommends a boy and does nothing for him, it is sad work." a "little, thick short-legged boy" was accordingly brought into the courtyard, whither johnson and boswell descended, and the lexicographer bending himself down administered some good advice to the awestruck lad with "slow and sonorous solemnity," ending by the presentation of the guinea. in the evening the pair formed part of a corps of party "wits," led by sir joshua reynolds, to the benefit of mrs. abingdon, who had been a frequent model of the painter. johnson praised garrick's prologues, and boswell kindly reported the eulogy to garrick, with whom he supped at beauclerk's. garrick treated him to a mimicry of johnson, repeating, "with pauses and half-whistling," the lines,-- os homini sublime dedit--coelumque tueri jussit--et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus: looking downwards, and at the end touching the ground with a contorted gesticulation. garrick was generally jealous of johnson's light opinion of him, and used to take off his old master, saying, "davy has some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile fellow." next day, at thrales', johnson fell foul of gray, one of his pet aversions. boswell denied that gray was dull in poetry. "sir," replied johnson, "he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull everywhere. he was dull in a new way, and that made people think him great. he was a mechanical poet." he proceeded to say that there were only two good stanzas in the _elegy_. johnson's criticism was perverse; but if we were to collect a few of the judgments passed by contemporaries upon each other, it would be scarcely exceptional in its want of appreciation. it is rather odd to remark that gray was generally condemned for obscurity--a charge which seems strangely out of place when he is measured by more recent standards. a day or two afterwards some one rallied johnson on his appearance at mrs. abingdon's benefit. "why did you go?" he asked. "did you see?" "no, sir." "did you hear?" "no, sir." "why, then, sir, did you go?" "because, sir, she is a favourite of the public; and when the public cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, i will go to your benefit too." the day after, boswell won a bet from lady di beauclerk by venturing to ask johnson what he did with the orange-peel which he used to pocket. johnson received the question amicably, but did not clear the mystery. "then," said boswell, "the world must be left in the dark. it must be said, he scraped them, and he let them dry, but what he did with them next he never could be prevailed upon to tell." "nay, sir," replied johnson, "you should say it more emphatically--he could not be prevailed upon, even by his dearest friends to tell." this year johnson received the degree of ll.d. from oxford. he had previously (in ) received the same honour from dublin. it is remarkable, however, that familiar as the title has become, johnson called himself plain mr. to the end of his days, and was generally so called by his intimates. on april nd, at a dinner at hoole's, johnson made another assault upon gray and mason. when boswell said that there were good passages in mason's _elfrida_, he conceded that there were "now and then some good imitations of milton's bad manner." after some more talk, boswell spoke of the cheerfulness of fleet street. "why, sir," said johnson, "fleet street has a very animated appearance, but i think that the full tide of human existence is at charing cross." he added a story of an eminent tallow-chandler who had made a fortune in london, and was foolish enough to retire to the country. he grew so tired of his retreat, that he begged to know the melting-days of his successor, that he might be present at the operation. on april th, they dined at a tavern, where the talk turned upon _ossian_. some one mentioned as an objection to its authenticity that no mention of wolves occurred in it. johnson fell into a reverie upon wild beasts, and, whilst reynolds and langton were discussing something, he broke out, "pennant tells of bears." what pennant told is unknown. the company continued to talk, whilst johnson continued his monologue, the word "bear" occurring at intervals, like a word in a catch. at last, when a pause came, he was going on: "we are told that the black bear is innocent, but i should not like to trust myself with him." gibbon muttered in a low tone, "i should not like to trust myself with _you_"--a prudent resolution, says honest boswell who hated gibbon, if it referred to a competition of abilities. the talk went on to patriotism, and johnson laid down an apophthegm, at "which many will start," many people, in fact, having little sense of humour. such persons may be reminded for their comfort that at this period patriot had a technical meaning. "patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel." on the th of april, he laid down another dogma, calculated to offend the weaker brethren. he defended pope's line-- man never _is_ but always _to be_ blest. and being asked if man did not sometimes enjoy a momentary happiness, replied, "never, but when he is drunk." it would be useless to defend these and other such utterances to any one who cannot enjoy them without defence. on april th, the pair went in reynolds's coach to dine with cambridge, at twickenham. johnson was in high spirits. he remarked as they drove down, upon the rarity of good humour in life. one friend mentioned by boswell was, he said, _acid_, and another _muddy_. at last, stretching himself and turning with complacency, he observed, "i look upon myself as a good-humoured fellow"--a bit of self-esteem against which boswell protested. johnson, he admitted, was good-natured; but was too irascible and impatient to be good-humoured. on reaching cambridge's house, johnson ran to look at the books. "mr. johnson," said cambridge politely, "i am going with your pardon to accuse myself, for i have the same custom which i perceive you have. but it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books." "sir," replied johnson, wheeling about at the words, "the reason is very plain. knowledge is of two kinds. we know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. when we inquire into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. this leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries." a pleasant talk followed. johnson denied the value attributed to historical reading, on the ground that we know very little except a few facts and dates. all the colouring, he said, was conjectural. boswell chuckles over the reflection that gibbon, who was present, did not take up the cudgels for his favourite study, though the first-fruits of his labours were to appear in the following year. "probably he did not like to trust himself with johnson." the conversation presently turned upon the _beggar's opera_, and johnson sensibly refused to believe that any man had been made a rogue by seeing it. yet the moralist felt bound to utter some condemnation of such a performance, and at last, amidst the smothered amusement of the company, collected himself to give a heavy stroke: "there is in it," he said, "such a _labefactation_ of all principles as may he dangerous to morality." a discussion followed as to whether sheridan was right for refusing to allow his wife to continue as a public singer. johnson defended him "with all the high spirit of a roman senator." "he resolved wisely and nobly, to be sure. he is a brave man. would not a gentleman be disgraced by having his wife sing publicly for hire? no, sir, there can be no doubt here. i know not if i should not prepare myself for a public singer as readily as let my wife be one." the stout old supporter of social authority went on to denounce the politics of the day. he asserted that politics had come to mean nothing but the art of rising in the world. he contrasted the absence of any principles with the state of the national mind during the stormy days of the seventeenth century. this gives the pith of johnston's political prejudices. he hated whigs blindly from his cradle; but he justified his hatred on the ground that they were now all "bottomless whigs," that is to say, that pierce where you would, you came upon no definite creed, but only upon hollow formulae, intended as a cloak for private interest. if burke and one or two of his friends be excepted, the remark had but too much justice. in , boswell found johnson rejoicing in the prospect of a journey to italy with the thrales. before starting he was to take a trip to the country, in which boswell agreed to join. boswell gathered up various bits of advice before their departure. one seems to have commended itself to him as specially available for practice. "a man who had been drinking freely," said the moralist, "should never go into a new company. he would probably strike them as ridiculous, though he might be in unison with those who had been drinking with him." johnson propounded another favourite theory. "a ship," he said, "was worse than a gaol. there is in a gaol better air, better company, better conveniency of every kind; and a ship has the additional disadvantage of being in danger." on march th, they went by coach to the angel at oxford; and next morning visited the master of university college, who chose with boswell to act in opposition to a very sound bit of advice given by johnson soon afterwards--perhaps with some reference to the proceeding. "never speak of a man in his own presence; it is always indelicate and may be offensive." the two, however, discussed johnson without reserve. the master said that he would have given johnson a hundred pounds for a discourse on the british constitution; and boswell suggested that johnson should write two volumes of no great bulk upon church and state, which should comprise the whole substance of the argument. "he should erect a fort on the confines of each." johnson was not unnaturally displeased with the dialogue, and growled out, "why should i be always writing?" presently, they went to see dr. adams, the doctor's old friend, who had been answering hume. boswell, who had done his best to court the acquaintance of voltaire, rousseau, wilkes, and hume himself, felt it desirable to reprove adams for having met hume with civility. he aired his admirable sentiments in a long speech, observing upon the connexion between theory and practice, and remarking, by way of practical application, that, if an infidel were at once vain and ugly, he might be compared to "cicero's beautiful image of virtue"--which would, as he seems to think, be a crushing retort. boswell always delighted in fighting with his gigantic backer close behind him. johnson, as he had doubtless expected, chimed in with the argument. "you should do your best," said johnson, "to diminish the authority, as well as dispute the arguments of your adversary, because most people are biased more by personal respect than by reasoning." "you would not jostle a chimney-sweeper," said adams. "yes," replied johnson, "if it were necessary to jostle him down." the pair proceeded by post-chaise past blenheim, and dined at a good inn at chapelhouse. johnston boasted of the superiority, long since vanished if it ever existed, of english to french inns, and quoted with great emotion shenstone's lines-- whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, where'er his stages may have been, must sigh to think he still has found the warmest welcome at an inn. as they drove along rapidly in the post-chaise, he exclaimed, "life has not many better things than this." on another occasion he said that he should like to spend his life driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman, clever enough to add to the conversation. the pleasure was partly owing to the fact that his deafness was less troublesome in a carriage. but he admitted that there were drawbacks even to this pleasure. boswell asked him whether he would not add a post-chaise journey to the other sole cause of happiness--namely, drunkenness. "no, sir," said johnson, "you are driving rapidly _from_ something or _to_ something." they went to birmingham, where boswell pumped hector about johnson's early days, and saw the works of boulton, watt's partner, who said to him, "i sell here, sir, what all the world desires to have--_power_." thence they went to lichfield, and met more of the rapidly thinning circle of johnson's oldest friends. here boswell was a little scandalized by johnson's warm exclamation on opening a letter--"one of the most dreadful things that has happened in my time!" this turned out to be the death of thrale's only son. boswell thought the phrase too big for the event, and was some time before he could feel a proper concern. he was, however, "curious to observe how dr. johnson would be affected," and was again a little scandalized by the reply to his consolatory remark that the thrales still had daughters. "sir," said johnson, "don't you know how you yourself think? sir, he wishes to propagate his name." the great man was actually putting the family sentiment of a brewer in the same category with the sentiments of the heir of auchinleck. johnson, however, calmed down, but resolved to hurry back to london. they stayed a night at taylor's, who remarked that he had fought a good many battles for a physician, one of their common friends. "but you should consider, sir," said johnson, "that by every one of your victories he is a loser; for every man of whom you get the better will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him, whereas if people get the better of you in argument about him, they will think 'we'll send for dr. ---- nevertheless!'" it was after their return to london that boswell won the greatest triumph of his friendship. he carried through a negotiation, to which, as burke pleasantly said, there was nothing equal in the whole history of the _corps diplomatique_. at some moment of enthusiasm it had occurred to him to bring johnson into company with wilkes. the infidel demagogue was probably in the mind of the tory high churchman, when he threw out that pleasant little apophthegm about patriotism. to bring together two such opposites without provoking a collision would be the crowning triumph of boswell's curiosity. he was ready to run all hazards as a chemist might try some new experiment at the risk of a destructive explosion; but being resolved, he took every precaution with admirable foresight. boswell had been invited by the dillys, well-known booksellers of the day, to meet wilkes. "let us have johnson," suggested the gallant boswell. "not for the world!" exclaimed dilly. but, on boswell's undertaking the negotiation, he consented to the experiment. boswell went off to johnson and politely invited him in dilly's name. "i will wait upon him," said johnson. "provided, sir, i suppose," said the diplomatic boswell, "that the company which he is to have is agreeable to you." "what do you mean, sir?" exclaimed johnson. "what do you take me for? do you think i am so ignorant of the world as to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?" boswell worked the point a little farther, till, by judicious manipulation, he had got johnson to commit himself to meeting anybody--even jack wilkes, to make a wild hypothesis--at the dillys' table. boswell retired, hoping to think that he had fixed the discussion in johnson's mind. the great day arrived, and boswell, like a consummate general who leaves nothing to chance, went himself to fetch johnson to the dinner. the great man had forgotten the engagement, and was "buffeting his books" in a dirty shirt and amidst clouds of dust. when reminded of his promise, he said that he had ordered dinner at home with mrs. williams. entreaties of the warmest kind from boswell softened the peevish old lady, to whose pleasure johnson had referred him. boswell flew back, announced mrs. williams's consent, and johnson roared, "frank, a clean shirt!" and was soon in a hackney-coach. boswell rejoiced like a "fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for gretna green." yet the joy was with trembling. arrived at dillys', johnson found himself amongst strangers, and boswell watched anxiously from a corner. "who is that gentleman?" whispered johnson to dilly. "mr. arthur lee." johnson whistled "too-too-too" doubtfully, for lee was a patriot and an american. "and who is the gentleman in lace?" "mr. wilkes, sir." johnson subsided into a window-seat and fixed his eye on a book. he was fairly in the toils. his reproof of boswell was recent enough to prevent him from exhibiting his displeasure, and he resolved to restrain himself. at dinner wilkes, placed next to johnson, took up his part in the performance. he pacified the sturdy moralist by delicate attentions to his needs. he helped him carefully to some fine veal. "pray give me leave, sir; it is better here--a little of the brown--some fat, sir--a little of the stuffing--some gravy--let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter. allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange; or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest." "sir, sir," cried johnson, "i am obliged to you, sir," bowing and turning to him, with a look for some time of "surly virtue," and soon of complacency. gradually the conversation became cordial. johnson told of the fascination exercised by foote, who, like wilkes, had succeeded in pleasing him against his will. foote once took to selling beer, and it was so bad that the servants of fitzherbert, one of his customers, resolved to protest. they chose a little black boy to carry their remonstrance; but the boy waited at table one day when foote was present, and returning to his companions, said, "this is the finest man i have ever seen. i will not deliver your message; i will drink his beer." from foote the transition was easy to garrick, whom johnson, as usual, defended against the attacks of others. he maintained that garrick's reputation for avarice, though unfounded, had been rather useful than otherwise. "you despise a man for avarice, but you do not hate him." the clamour would have been more effectual, had it been directed against his living with splendour too great for a player. johnson went on to speak of the difficulty of getting biographical information. when he had wished to write a life of dryden, he applied to two living men who remembered him. one could only tell him that dryden had a chair by the fire at will's coffee-house in winter, which was moved to the balcony in summer. the other (cibber) could only report that he remembered dryden as a "decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at will's." johnson and wilkes had one point in common--a vigorous prejudice against the scotch, and upon this topic they cracked their jokes in friendly emulation. when they met upon a later occasion ( ), they still pursued this inexhaustible subject. wilkes told how a privateer had completely plundered seven scotch islands, and re-embarked with three and sixpence. johnson now remarked in answer to somebody who said "poor old england is lost!" "sir, it is not so much to be lamented that old england is lost, as that the scotch have found it." "you must know, sir," he said to wilkes, "that i lately took my friend boswell and showed him genuine civilized life in an english provincial town. i turned him loose at lichfield, that he might see for once real civility, for you know he lives among savages in scotland and among rakes in london." "except," said wilkes, "when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you and me." "and we ashamed of him," added johnson, smiling. boswell had to bear some jokes against himself and his countrymen from the pair; but he had triumphed, and rejoiced greatly when he went home with johnson, and heard the great man speak of his pleasant dinner to mrs. williams. johnson seems to have been permanently reconciled to his foe. "did we not hear so much said of jack wilkes," he remarked next year, "we should think more highly of his conversation. jack has a great variety of talk, jack is a scholar, and jack has the manners of a gentleman. but, after hearing his name sounded from pole to pole as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we are disappointed in his company. he has always been at _me_, but i would do jack a kindness rather than not. the contest is now over." in fact, wilkes had ceased to play any part in public life. when johnson met him next (in ) they joked about such dangerous topics as some of wilkes's political performances. johnson sent him a copy of the _lives_, and they were seen conversing _tête-à-tête_ in confidential whispers about george ii. and the king of prussia. to boswell's mind it suggested the happy days when the lion should lie down with the kid, or, as dr. barnard suggested, the goat. in the year johnson began the _lives of the poets_, in compliance with a request from the booksellers, who wished for prefaces to a large collection of english poetry. johnson asked for this work the extremely modest sum of guineas, when he might easily, according to malone, have received or . he did not meet boswell till september, when they spent ten days together at dr. taylor's. the subject which specially interested boswell at this time was the fate of the unlucky dr. dodd, hanged for forgery in the previous june. dodd seems to have been a worthless charlatan of the popular preacher variety. his crime would not in our days have been thought worthy of so severe a punishment; but his contemporaries were less shocked by the fact of death being inflicted for such a fault, than by the fact of its being inflicted on a clergyman. johnson exerted himself to procure a remission of the sentence by writing various letters and petitions on dodd's behalf. he seems to have been deeply moved by the man's appeal, and could "not bear the thought" that any negligence of his should lead to the death of a fellow-creature; but he said that if he had himself been in authority he would have signed the death-warrant, and for the man himself, he had as little respect as might be. he said, indeed, that dodd was right in not joining in the "cant" about leaving a wretched world. "no, no," said the poor rogue, "it has been a very agreeable world to me." dodd had allowed to pass for his own one of the papers composed for him by johnson, and the doctor was not quite pleased. when, however, seward expressed a doubt as to dodd's power of writing so forcibly, johnson felt bound not to expose him. "why should you think so? depend upon it, sir, when any man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully." on another occasion, johnson expressed a doubt himself as to whether dodd had really composed a certain prayer on the night before his execution. "sir, do you think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the succession of the royal family? though he _may_ have composed this prayer then. a man who has been canting all his life may cant to the last; and yet a man who has been refused a pardon after so much petitioning, would hardly be praying thus fervently for the king." the last day at taylor's was characteristic. johnson was very cordial to his disciple, and boswell fancied that he could defend his master at "the point of his sword." "my regard for you," said johnson, "is greater almost than i have words to express, but i do not choose to be always repeating it. write it down in the first leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again." they became sentimental, and talked of the misery of human life. boswell spoke of the pleasures of society. "alas, sir," replied johnson, like a true pessimist, "these are only struggles for happiness!" he felt exhilarated, he said, when he first went to ranelagh, but he changed to the mood of xerxes weeping at the sight of his army. "it went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle that was not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of each individual would be distressing when alone." some years before he had gone with boswell to the pantheon and taken a more cheerful view. when boswell doubted whether there were many happy people present, he said, "yes, sir, there are many happy people here. there are many people here who are watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are watching them." the more permanent feeling was that which he expressed in the "serene autumn night" in taylor's garden. he was willing, however, to talk calmly about eternal punishment, and to admit the possibility of a "mitigated interpretation." after supper he dictated to boswell an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming his liberty in scotland. he hated slavery with a zeal which the excellent boswell thought to be "without knowledge;" and on one occasion gave as a toast to some "very grave men" at oxford, "here's to the next insurrection of negroes in the west indies." the hatred was combined with as hearty a dislike for american independence. "how is it," he said, "that we always hear the loudest yelps for liberty amongst the drivers of negroes?" the harmony of the evening was unluckily spoilt by an explosion of this prejudice. boswell undertook the defence of the colonists, and the discussion became so fierce that though johnson had expressed a willingness to sit up all night with him, they were glad to part after an hour or two, and go to bed. in , boswell came to london and found johnson absorbed, to an extent which apparently excited his jealousy, by his intimacy with the thrales. they had, however, several agreeable meetings. one was at the club, and boswell's report of the conversation is the fullest that we have of any of its meetings. a certain reserve is indicated by his using initials for the interlocutors, of whom, however, one can be easily identified as burke. the talk began by a discussion of an antique statue, said to be the dog of alcibiades, and valued at _l_. burke said that the representation of no animal could be worth so much. johnson, whose taste for art was a vanishing quantity, said that the value was proportional to the difficulty. a statue, as he argued on another occasion, would be worth nothing if it were cut out of a carrot. everything, he now said, was valuable which "enlarged the sphere of human powers." the first man who balanced a straw upon his nose, or rode upon three horses at once, deserved the applause of mankind; and so statues of animals should be preserved as a proof of dexterity, though men should not continue such fruitless labours. the conversation became more instructive under the guidance of burke. he maintained what seemed to his hearers a paradox, though it would be interesting to hear his arguments from some profounder economist than boswell, that a country would be made more populous by emigration. "there are bulls enough in ireland," he remarked incidentally in the course of the argument. "so, sir, i should think from your argument," said johnson, for once condescending to an irresistible pun. it is recorded, too, that he once made a bull himself, observing that a horse was so slow that when it went up hill, it stood still. if he now failed to appreciate burke's argument, he made one good remark. another speaker said that unhealthy countries were the most populous. "countries which are the most populous," replied johnson, "have the most destructive diseases. that is the true state of the proposition;" and indeed, the remark applies to the case of emigration. a discussion then took place as to whether it would be worth while for burke to take so much trouble with speeches which never decided a vote. burke replied that a speech, though it did not gain one vote, would have an influence, and maintained that the house of commons was not wholly corrupt. "we are all more or less governed by interest," was johnson's comment. "but interest will not do everything. in a case which admits of doubt, we try to think on the side which is for our interest, and generally bring ourselves to act accordingly. but the subject must admit of diversity of colouring; it must receive a colour on that side. in the house of commons there are members enough who will not vote what is grossly absurd and unjust. no, sir, there must always be right enough, or appearance of right, to keep wrong in countenance." after some deviations, the conversation returned to this point. johnson and burke agreed on a characteristic statement. burke said that from his experience he had learnt to think better of mankind. "from my experience," replied johnson, "i have found them worse on commercial dealings, more disposed to cheat than i had any notion of; but more disposed to do one another good than i had conceived." "less just, and more beneficent," as another speaker suggested. johnson proceeded to say that considering the pressure of want, it was wonderful that men would do so much for each other. the greatest liar is said to speak more truth than falsehood, and perhaps the worst man might do more good than not. but when boswell suggested that perhaps experience might increase our estimate of human happiness, johnson returned to his habitual pessimism. "no, sir, the more we inquire, the more we shall find men less happy." the talk soon wandered off into a disquisition upon the folly of deliberately testing the strength of our friend's affection. the evening ended by johnson accepting a commission to write to a friend who had given to the club a hogshead of claret, and to request another, with "a happy ambiguity of expression," in the hopes that it might also be a present. some days afterwards, another conversation took place, which has a certain celebrity in boswellian literature. the scene was at dilly's, and the guests included miss seward and mrs. knowles, a well-known quaker lady. before dinner johnson seized upon a book which he kept in his lap during dinner, wrapped up in the table-cloth. his attention was not distracted from the various business of the hour, but he hit upon a topic which happily combined the two appropriate veins of thought. he boasted that he would write a cookery-book upon philosophical principles; and declared in opposition to miss seward that such a task was beyond the sphere of woman. perhaps this led to a discussion upon the privileges of men, in which johnson put down mrs. knowles, who had some hankering for women's rights, by the shakspearian maxim that if two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind. driven from her position in this world, poor mrs. knowles hoped that sexes might be equal in the next. boswell reproved her by the remark already quoted, that men might as well expect to be equal to angels. he enforces this view by an illustration suggested by the "rev. mr. brown of utrecht," who had observed that a great or small glass might be equally full, though not holding equal quantities. mr. brown intended this for a confutation of hume, who has said that a little miss, dressed for a ball, may be as happy as an orator who has won some triumphant success.[ ] [footnote : boswell remarks as a curious coincidence that the same illustration had been used by a dr. king, a dissenting minister. doubtless it has been used often enough. for one instance see _donne's sermons_ (alford's edition), vol. i., p. .] the conversation thus took a theological turn, and mrs. knowles was fortunate enough to win johnson's high approval. he defended a doctrine maintained by soame jenyns, that friendship is a christian virtue. mrs. knowles remarked that jesus had twelve disciples, but there was _one_ whom he _loved_. johnson, "with eyes sparkling benignantly," exclaimed, "very well indeed, madam; you have said very well!" so far all had gone smoothly; but here, for some inexplicable reason, johnson burst into a sudden fury against the american rebels, whom he described as "rascals, robbers, pirates," and roared out a tremendous volley, which might almost have been audible across the atlantic. boswell sat and trembled, but gradually diverted the sage to less exciting topics. the name of jonathan edwards suggested a discussion upon free will and necessity, upon which poor boswell was much given to worry himself. some time afterwards johnson wrote to him, in answer to one of his lamentations: "i hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery. what have you to do with liberty and necessity? or what more than to hold your tongue about it?" boswell could never take this sensible advice; but he got little comfort from his oracle. "we know that we are all free, and there's an end on't," was his statement on one occasion, and now he could only say, "all theory is against the freedom of the will, and all experience for it." some familiar topics followed, which play a great part in boswell's reports. among the favourite topics of the sentimentalists of the day was the denunciation of "luxury," and of civilized life in general. there was a disposition to find in the south sea savages or american indians an embodiment of the fancied state of nature. johnson heartily despised the affectation. he was told of an american woman who had to be bound in order to keep her from savage life. "she must have been an animal, a beast," said boswell. "sir," said johnson, "she was a speaking cat." somebody quoted to him with admiration the soliloquy of an officer who had lived in the wilds of america: "here am i, free and unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of nature, with the indian woman by my side, and this gun, with which i can procure food when i want it! what more can be desired for human happiness?" "do not allow yourself, sir," replied johnson, "to be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. it is sad stuff; it is brutish. if a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim, 'here am i with this cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?'" when johnson implored boswell to "clear his mind of cant," he was attacking his disciple for affecting a serious depression about public affairs; but the cant which he hated would certainly have included as its first article an admiration for the state of nature. on the present occasion johnson defended luxury, and said that he had learnt much from mandeville--a shrewd cynic, in whom johnson's hatred for humbug is exaggerated into a general disbelief in real as well as sham nobleness of sentiment. as the conversation proceeded, johnson expressed his habitual horror of death, and caused miss seward's ridicule by talking seriously of ghosts and the importance of the question of their reality; and then followed an explosion, which seems to have closed this characteristic evening. a young woman had become a quaker under the influence of mrs. knowles, who now proceeded to deprecate johnson's wrath at what he regarded as an apostasy. "madam," he said, "she is an odious wench," and he proceeded to denounce her audacity in presuming to choose a religion for herself. "she knew no more of the points of difference," he said, "than of the difference between the copernican and ptolemaic systems." when mrs. knowles said that she had the new testament before her, he said that it was the "most difficult book in the world," and he proceeded to attack the unlucky proselyte with a fury which shocked the two ladies. mrs. knowles afterwards published a report of this conversation, and obtained another report, with which, however, she was not satisfied, from miss seward. both of them represent the poor doctor as hopelessly confuted by the mild dignity and calm reason of mrs. knowles, though the triumph is painted in far the brightest colours by mrs. knowles herself. unluckily, there is not a trace of johnson's manner, except in one phrase, in either report, and they are chiefly curious as an indirect testimony to boswell's superior powers. the passage, in which both the ladies agree, is that johnson, on the expression of mrs. knowles's hope that he would meet the young lady in another world, retorted that he was not fond of meeting fools anywhere. poor boswell was at this time a water-drinker by johnson's recommendation, though unluckily for himself he never broke off his drinking habits for long. they had a conversation at paoli's, in which boswell argued against his present practice. johnson remarked "that wine gave a man nothing, but only put in motion what had been locked up in frost." it was a key, suggested some one, which opened a box, but the box might be full or empty. "nay, sir," said johnson, "conversation is the key, wine is a picklock, which forces open the box and injures it. a man should cultivate his mind, so as to have that confidence and readiness without wine which wine gives." boswell characteristically said that the great difficulty was from "benevolence." it was hard to refuse "a good, worthy man" who asked you to try his cellar. this, according to johnson, was mere conceit, implying an exaggerated estimate of your importance to your entertainer. reynolds gallantly took up the opposite side, and produced the one recorded instance of a johnsonian blush. "i won't argue any more with you, sir," said johnson, who thought every man to be elevated who drank wine, "you are too far gone." "i should have thought so indeed, sir, had i made such a speech as you have now done," said reynolds; and johnson apologized with the aforesaid blush. the explosion was soon over on this occasion. not long afterwards, johnson attacked boswell so fiercely at a dinner at reynolds's, that the poor disciple kept away for a week. they made it up when they met next, and johnson solaced boswell's wounded vanity by highly commending an image made by him to express his feelings. "i don't care how often or how high johnson tosses me, when only friends are present, for then i fall upon soft ground; but i do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present." the phrase may recall one of johnson's happiest illustrations. when some one said in his presence that a _congé d'élire_ might be considered as only a strong recommendation: "sir," replied johnson, "it is such a recommendation as if i should throw you out of a two-pair of stairs window, and recommend you to fall soft." it is perhaps time to cease these extracts from boswell's reports. the next two years were less fruitful. in boswell was careless, though twice in london, and in , he did not pay his annual visit. boswell has partly filled up the gap by a collection of sayings made by langton, some passages from which have been quoted, and his correspondence gives various details. garrick died in january of , and beauclerk in march, . johnson himself seems to have shown few symptoms of increasing age; but a change was approaching, and the last years of his life were destined to be clouded, not merely by physical weakness, but by a change of circumstances which had great influence upon his happiness. chapter v. the closing years of johnson's life. in following boswell's guidance we have necessarily seen only one side of johnson's life; and probably that side which had least significance for the man himself. boswell saw in him chiefly the great dictator of conversation; and though the reports of johnson's talk represent his character in spite of some qualifications with unusual fulness, there were many traits very inadequately revealed at the mitre or the club, at mrs. thrale's, or in meetings with wilkes or reynolds. we may catch some glimpses from his letters and diaries of that inward life which consisted generally in a long succession of struggles against an oppressive and often paralysing melancholy. another most noteworthy side to his character is revealed in his relations to persons too humble for admission to the tables at which he exerted a despotic sway. upon this side johnson was almost entirely loveable. we often have to regret the imperfection of the records of that best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. everywhere in johnson's letters and in the occasional anecdotes, we come upon indications of a tenderness and untiring benevolence which would make us forgive far worse faults than have ever been laid to his charge. nay, the very asperity of the man's outside becomes endeared to us by the association. his irritability never vented itself against the helpless, and his rough impatience of fanciful troubles implied no want of sympathy for real sorrow. one of mrs. thrale's anecdotes is intended to show johnson's harshness:--"when i one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in america, 'pr'ythee, my dear,' said he, 'have done with canting; how would the world be the worse for it, i may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks and roasted for presto's supper?' presto was the dog that lay under the table while we talked." the counter version, given by boswell is, that mrs. thrale related her cousin's death in the midst of a hearty supper, and that johnson, shocked at her want of feeling, said, "madam, it would give _you_ very little concern if all your relations were spitted like those larks, and roasted for presto's supper." taking the most unfavourable version, we may judge how much real indifference to human sorrow was implied by seeing how johnson was affected by a loss of one of his humblest friends. it is but one case of many. in , he took leave, as he notes in his diary, of his "dear old friend, catherine chambers," who had been for about forty-three years in the service of his family. "i desired all to withdraw," he says, "then told her that we were to part for ever, and, as christians, we should part with prayer, and that i would, if she was willing, say a short prayer beside her. she expressed great desire to hear me, and held up her poor hands as she lay in bed, with great fervour, while i prayed, kneeling by her, in nearly the following words"--which shall not be repeated here--"i then kissed her," he adds. "she told me that to part was the greatest pain that she had ever felt, and that she hoped we should meet again in a better place. i expressed, with swelled eyes, and great emotion of kindness, the same hopes. we kissed and parted--i humbly hope to meet again and part no more." a man with so true and tender a heart could say serenely, what with some men would be a mere excuse for want of sympathy, that he "hated to hear people whine about metaphysical distresses when there was so much want and hunger in the world." he had a sound and righteous contempt for all affectation of excessive sensibility. suppose, said boswell to him, whilst their common friend baretti was lying under a charge of murder, "that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged." "i should do what i could," replied johnson, "to bail him, and give him any other assistance; but if he were once fairly hanged, i should not suffer." "would you eat your dinner that day, sir?" asks boswell. "yes, sir; and eat it as if he were eating with me. why there's baretti, who's to be tried for his life to-morrow. friends have risen up for him upon every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plum-pudding the less. sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind." boswell illustrated the subject by saying that tom davies had just written a letter to foote, telling him that he could not sleep from concern about baretti, and at the same time recommending a young man who kept a pickle-shop. johnson summed up by the remark: "you will find these very feeling people are not very ready to do you good. they _pay_ you by _feeling_." johnson never objected to feeling, but to the waste of feeling. in a similar vein he told mrs. thrale that a "surly fellow" like himself had no compassion to spare for "wounds given to vanity and softness," whilst witnessing the common sight of actual want in great cities. on lady tavistock's death, said to have been caused by grief for her husband's loss, he observed that her life might have been saved if she had been put into a small chandler's shop, with a child to nurse. when mrs. thrale suggested that a lady would be grieved because her friend had lost the chance of a fortune, "she will suffer as much, perhaps," he replied, "as your horse did when your cow miscarried." mrs. thrale testifies that he once reproached her sternly for complaining of the dust. when he knew, he said, how many poor families would perish next winter for want of the bread which the drought would deny, he could not bear to hear ladies sighing for rain on account of their complexions or their clothes. while reporting such sayings, she adds, that he loved the poor as she never saw any one else love them, with an earnest desire to make them happy. his charity was unbounded; he proposed to allow himself one hundred a year out of the three hundred of his pension; but the thrales could never discover that he really spent upon himself more than _l_., or at most _l_. he had numerous dependants, abroad as well as at home, who "did not like to see him latterly, unless he brought 'em money." he filled his pockets with small cash which he distributed to beggars in defiance of political economy. when told that the recipients only laid it out upon gin or tobacco, he replied that it was savage to deny them the few coarse pleasures which the richer disdained. numerous instances are given of more judicious charity. when, for example, a benedictine monk, whom he had seen in paris, became a protestant, johnson supported him for some months in london, till he could get a living. once coming home late at night, he found a poor woman lying in the street. he carried her to his house on his back, and found that she was reduced to the lowest stage of want, poverty, and disease. he took care of her at his own charge, with all tenderness, until she was restored to health, and tried to have her put into a virtuous way of living. his house, in his later years, was filled with various waifs and strays, to whom he gave hospitality and sometimes support, defending himself by saying that if he did not help them nobody else would. the head of his household was miss williams, who had been a friend of his wife's, and after coming to stay with him, in order to undergo an operation for cataract, became a permanent inmate of his house. she had a small income of some _l_. a year, partly from the charity of connexions of her father's, and partly arising from a little book of miscellanies published by subscription. she was a woman of some sense and cultivation, and when she died (in ) johnson said that for thirty years she had been to him as a sister. boswell's jealousy was excited during the first period of his acquaintance, when goldsmith one night went home with johnson, crying "i go to miss williams"--a phrase which implied admission to an intimacy from which boswell was as yet excluded. boswell soon obtained the coveted privilege, and testifies to the respect with which johnson always treated the inmates of his family. before leaving her to dine with boswell at the hotel, he asked her what little delicacy should be sent to her from the tavern. poor miss williams, however, was peevish, and, according to hawkins, had been known to drive johnson out of the room by her reproaches, and boswell's delicacy was shocked by the supposition that she tested the fulness of cups of tea, by putting her finger inside. we are glad to know that this was a false impression, and, in fact, miss williams, however unfortunate in temper and circumstances, seems to have been a lady by manners and education. the next inmate of this queer household was robert levett, a man who had been a waiter at a coffee-house in paris frequented by surgeons. they had enabled him to pick up some of their art, and he set up as an "obscure practiser in physic amongst the lower people" in london. he took from them such fees as he could get, including provisions, sometimes, unfortunately for him, of the potable kind. he was once entrapped into a queer marriage, and johnson had to arrange a separation from his wife. johnson, it seems, had a good opinion of his medical skill, and more or less employed his services in that capacity. he attended his patron at his breakfast; breakfasting, said percy, "on the crust of a roll, which johnson threw to him after tearing out the crumb." the phrase, it is said, goes too far; johnson always took pains that levett should be treated rather as a friend than as a dependant. besides these humble friends, there was a mrs. desmoulins, the daughter of a lichfield physician. johnson had had some quarrel with the father in his youth for revealing a confession of the mental disease which tortured him from early years. he supported mrs. desmoulins none the less, giving house-room to her and her daughter, and making her an allowance of half-a-guinea a week, a sum equal to a twelfth part of his pension. francis barker has already been mentioned, and we have a dim vision of a miss carmichael, who completed what he facetiously called his "seraglio." it was anything but a happy family. he summed up their relations in a letter to mrs. thrale. "williams," he says, "hates everybody; levett hates desmoulins, and does not love williams; desmoulins hates them both; poll (miss carmichael) loves none of them." frank barker complained of miss williams's authority, and miss williams of frank's insubordination. intruders who had taken refuge under his roof, brought their children there in his absence, and grumbled if their dinners were ill-dressed. the old man bore it all, relieving himself by an occasional growl, but reproaching any who ventured to join in the growl for their indifference to the sufferings of poverty. levett died in january, ; miss williams died, after a lingering illness, in , and johnson grieved in solitude for the loss of his testy companions. a poem, composed upon levett's death, records his feelings in language which wants the refinement of goldsmith or the intensity of cowper's pathos, but which is yet so sincere and tender as to be more impressive than far more elegant compositions. it will be a fitting close to this brief indication of one side of johnson's character, too easily overlooked in boswell's pages, to quote part of what thackeray truly calls the "sacred verses" upon levett:-- well tried through many a varying year see levett to the grave descend, officious, innocent, sincere, of every friendless name the friend. in misery's darkest cavern known, his ready help was ever nigh; where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, and lonely want retired to die. no summons mock'd by dull delay, no petty gains disdain'd by pride; the modest wants of every day, the toil of every day supplied. his virtues walk'd their narrow round, nor made a pause, nor left a void; and sure the eternal master found his single talent well employed. the busy day, the peaceful night, unfelt, uncounted, glided by; his frame was firm, his eye was bright, though now his eightieth year was nigh. then, with no throbs of fiery pain, no cold gradations of decay, death broke at once the vital chain, and freed his soul the easiest way. the last stanza smells somewhat of the country tombstone; but to read the whole and to realize the deep, manly sentiment which it implies, without tears in one's eyes is to me at least impossible. there is one little touch which may be added before we proceed to the closing years of this tender-hearted old moralist. johnson loved little children, calling them "little dears," and cramming them with sweetmeats, though we regret to add that he once snubbed a little child rather severely for a want of acquaintance with the _pilgrim's progress_. his cat, hodge, should be famous amongst the lovers of the race. he used to go out and buy oysters for hodge, that the servants might not take a dislike to the animal from having to serve it themselves. he reproached his wife for beating a cat before the maid, lest she should give a precedent for cruelty. boswell, who cherished an antipathy to cats, suffered at seeing hodge scrambling up johnson's breast, whilst he smiled and rubbed the beast's back and pulled its tail. bozzy remarked that he was a fine cat. "why, yes, sir," said johnson; "but i have had cats whom i liked better than this," and then, lest hodge should be put out of countenance, he added, "but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed." he told langton once of a young gentleman who, when last heard of, was "running about town shooting cats; but," he murmured in a kindly reverie, "hodge shan't be shot; no, no, hodge shall not be shot!" once, when johnson was staying at a house in wales, the gardener brought in a hare which had been caught in the potatoes. the order was given to take it to the cook. johnson asked to have it placed in his arms. he took it to the window and let it go, shouting to increase its speed. when his host complained that he had perhaps spoilt the dinner, johnson replied by insisting that the rights of hospitality included an animal which had thus placed itself under the protection of the master of the garden. we must proceed, however, to a more serious event. the year brought with it a catastrophe which profoundly affected the brief remainder of johnson's life. mr. thrale, whose health had been shaken by fits, died suddenly on the th of april. the ultimate consequence was johnson's loss of the second home, in which he had so often found refuge from melancholy, alleviation of physical suffering, and pleasure in social converse. the change did not follow at once, but as the catastrophe of a little social drama, upon the rights and wrongs of which a good deal of controversy has been expended. johnson was deeply affected by the loss of a friend whose face, as he said, "had never been turned upon him through fifteen years but with respect and benignity." he wrote solemn and affecting letters to the widow, and busied himself strenuously in her service. thrale had made him one of his executors, leaving him a small legacy; and johnson took, it seems, a rather simple-minded pleasure in dealing with important commercial affairs and signing cheques for large sums of money. the old man of letters, to whom three hundred a year had been superabundant wealth, was amused at finding himself in the position of a man of business, regulating what was then regarded as a princely fortune. the brewery was sold after a time, and johnson bustled about with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole. when asked what was the value of the property, he replied magniloquently, "we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice." the brewery was in fact sold to barclay, perkins, and co. for the sum of , _l_., and some years afterwards it was the largest concern of the kind in the world. the first effect of the change was probably rather to tighten than to relax the bond of union with the thrale family. during the winter of - , johnson's infirmities were growing upon him. in the beginning of he was suffering from an illness which excited serious apprehensions, and he went to mrs. thrale's, as the only house where he could use "all the freedom that sickness requires." she nursed him carefully, and expressed her feelings with characteristic vehemence in a curious journal which he had encouraged her to keep. it records her opinions about her affairs and her family, with a frankness remarkable even in writing intended for no eye but her own. "here is mr. johnson very ill," she writes on the st of february;.... "what shall we do for him? if i lose _him_, i am more than undone--friend, father, guardian, confidant! god give me health and patience! what shall i do?" there is no reason to doubt the sincerity of these sentiments, though they seem to represent a mood of excitement. they show that for ten months after thrale's death mrs. thrale was keenly sensitive to the value of johnson's friendship. a change, however, was approaching. towards the end of mrs. thrale had made the acquaintance of an italian musician named piozzi, a man of amiable and honourable character, making an independent income by his profession, but to the eyes of most people rather inoffensive than specially attractive. the friendship between mrs. thrale and piozzi rapidly became closer, and by the end of she was on very intimate terms with the gentleman whom she calls "my piozzi." he had been making a professional trip to the continent during part of the period since her husband's death, and upon his return in november, johnson congratulated her upon having two friends who loved her, in terms which suggest no existing feeling of jealousy. during the mutual affection of the lady and the musician became stronger, and in the autumn they had avowed it to each other, and were discussing the question of marriage. no one who has had some experience of life will be inclined to condemn mrs. thrale for her passion. rather the capacity for a passion not excited by an intrinsically unworthy object should increase our esteem for her. her marriage with thrale had been, as has been said, one of convenience; and, though she bore him many children and did her duty faithfully, she never loved him. towards the end of his life he had made her jealous by very marked attentions to the pretty and sentimental sophy streatfield, which once caused a scene at his table; and during the last two years his mind had been weakened, and his conduct had caused her anxiety and discomfort. it is not surprising that she should welcome the warm and simple devotion of her new lover, though she was of a ripe age and the mother of grown-up daughters. it is, however, equally plain that an alliance with a foreign fiddler was certain to shock british respectability. it is the old story of the quarrel between philistia and bohemia. nor was respectability without much to say for itself. piozzi was a catholic as well as a foreigner; to marry him was in all probability to break with daughters just growing into womanhood, whom it was obviously her first duty to protect. the marriage, therefore, might be regarded as not merely a revolt against conventional morality, but as leading to a desertion of country, religion, and family. her children, her husband's friends, and her whole circle were certain to look upon the match with feelings of the strongest disapproval, and she admitted to herself that the objections were founded upon something more weighty than a fear of the world's censure. johnson, in particular, among whose virtues one cannot reckon a superiority to british prejudice, would inevitably consider the marriage as simply degrading. foreseeing this, and wishing to avoid the pain of rejecting advice which she felt unable to accept, she refrained from retaining her "friend, father, and guardian" in the position of "confidant." her situation in the summer of was therefore exceedingly trying. she was unhappy at home. her children, she complains, did not love her; her servants "devoured" her; her friends censured her; and her expenses were excessive, whilst the loss of a lawsuit strained her resources. johnson, sickly, suffering and descending into the gloom of approaching decay, was present like a charged thunder-cloud ready to burst at any moment, if she allowed him to approach the chief subject of her thoughts. though not in love with mrs. thrale, he had a very intelligible feeling of jealousy towards any one who threatened to distract her allegiance. under such circumstances we might expect the state of things which miss burney described long afterwards (though with some confusion of dates). mrs. thrale, she says, was absent and agitated, restless in manner, and hurried in speech, forcing smiles, and averting her eyes from her friends; neglecting every one, including johnson and excepting only miss burney herself, to whom the secret was confided, and the situation therefore explained. gradually, according to miss burney, she became more petulant to johnson than she was herself aware, gave palpable hints of being worried by his company, and finally excited his resentment and suspicion. in one or two utterances, though he doubtless felt the expedience of reserve, he intrusted his forebodings to miss burney, and declared that streatham was lost to him for ever. at last, in the end of august, the crisis came. mrs. thrale's lawsuit had gone against her. she thought it desirable to go abroad and save money. it had moreover been "long her dearest wish" to see italy, with piozzi for a guide. the one difficulty (as she says in her journal at the time), was that it seemed equally hard to part with johnson or to take him with her till he had regained strength. at last, however she took courage to confide to him her plans for travel. to her extreme annoyance he fully approved of them. he advised her to go; anticipated her return in two or three years; and told her daughter that he should not accompany them, even if invited. no behaviour, it may be admitted, could be more provoking than this unforeseen reasonableness. to nerve oneself to part with a friend, and to find the friend perfectly ready, and all your battery of argument thrown away is most vexatious. the poor man should have begged her to stay with him, or to take him with her; he should have made the scene which she professed to dread, but which would have been the best proof of her power. the only conclusion which could really have satisfied her--though she, in all probability, did not know it--would have been an outburst which would have justified a rupture, and allowed her to protest against his tyranny as she now proceeded to protest against his complacency. johnson wished to go to italy two years later; and his present willingness to be left was probably caused by a growing sense of the dangers which threatened their friendship. mrs. thrale's anger appears in her journal. he had never really loved her, she declares; his affection for her had been interested, though even in her wrath she admits that he really loved her husband; he cared less for her conversation, which she had fancied necessary to his existence, than for her "roast beef and plumb pudden," which he now devours too "dirtily for endurance." she was fully resolved to go, and yet she could not bear that her going should fail to torture the friend whom for eighteen years she had loved and cherished so kindly. no one has a right at once to insist upon the compliance of his friends, and to insist that it should be a painful compliance. still mrs. thrale's petulant outburst was natural enough. it requires notice because her subsequent account of the rupture has given rise to attacks on johnson's character. her "anecdotes," written in , show that her real affection for johnson was still coloured by resentment for his conduct at this and a later period. they have an apologetic character which shows itself in a statement as to the origin of the quarrel, curiously different from the contemporary accounts in the diary. she says substantially, and the whole book is written so as to give probability to the assertion, that johnson's bearishness and demands upon her indulgence had become intolerable, when he was no longer under restraint from her husband's presence. she therefore "took advantage" of her lost lawsuit and other troubles to leave london, and thus escape from his domestic tyranny. he no longer, as she adds, suffered from anything but "old age and general infirmity" (a tolerably wide exception!), and did not require her nursing. she therefore withdrew from the yoke to which she had contentedly submitted during her husband's life, but which was intolerable when her "coadjutor was no more." johnson's society was, we may easily believe, very trying to a widow in such a position; and it seems to be true that thrale was better able than mrs. thrale to restrain his oddities, little as the lady shrunk at times from reasonable plain-speaking. but the later account involves something more than a bare suppression of the truth. the excuse about his health is, perhaps, the worst part of her case, because obviously insincere. nobody could be more fully aware than mrs. thrale that johnson's infirmities were rapidly gathering, and that another winter or two must in all probability be fatal to him. she knew, therefore, that he was never more in want of the care which, as she seems to imply, had saved him from the specific tendency to something like madness. she knew, in fact, that she was throwing him upon the care of his other friends, zealous and affectionate enough, it is true, but yet unable to supply him with the domestic comforts of streatham. she clearly felt that this was a real injury, inevitable it might be under the circumstances, but certainly not to be extenuated by the paltry evasion as to his improved health. so far from johnson's health being now established, she had not dared to speak until his temporary recovery from a dangerous illness, which had provoked her at the time to the strongest expressions of anxious regret. she had (according to the diary) regarded a possible breaking of the yoke in the early part of as a terrible evil, which would "more than ruin her." even when resolved to leave streatham, her one great difficulty is the dread of parting with johnson, and the pecuniary troubles are the solid and conclusive reason. in the later account the money question is the mere pretext; the desire to leave johnson the true motive; and the long-cherished desire to see italy with piozzi is judiciously dropped out of notice altogether. the truth is plain enough. mrs. thrale was torn by conflicting feelings. she still loved johnson, and yet dreaded his certain disapproval of her strongest wishes. she respected him, but was resolved not to follow his advice. she wished to treat him with kindness and to be repaid with gratitude, and yet his presence and his affection were full of intolerable inconveniences. when an old friendship becomes a burden, the smaller infirmities of manner and temper to which we once submitted willingly, become intolerable. she had borne with johnson's modes of eating and with his rough reproofs to herself and her friends during sixteen years of her married life; and for nearly a year of her widowhood she still clung to him as the wisest and kindest of monitors. his manners had undergone no spasmodic change. they became intolerable when, for other reasons, she resented his possible interference, and wanted a very different guardian and confidant; and, therefore, she wished to part, and yet wished that the initiative should come from him. the decision to leave streatham was taken. johnson parted with deep regret from the house; he read a chapter of the testament in the library; he took leave of the church with a kiss; he composed a prayer commending the family to the protection of heaven; and he did not forget to note in his journal the details of the last dinner of which he partook. this quaint observation may have been due to some valetudinary motive, or, more probably, to some odd freak of association. once, when eating an omelette, he was deeply affected because it recalled his old friend nugent. "ah, my dear friend," he said "in an agony," "i shall never eat omelette with thee again!" and in the present case there is an obscure reference to some funeral connected in his mind with a meal. the unlucky entry has caused some ridicule, but need hardly convince us that his love of the family in which for so many years he had been an honoured and honour-giving inmate was, as miss seward amiably suggests, in great measure "kitchen-love." no immediate rupture followed the abandonment of the streatham establishment. johnson spent some weeks at brighton with mrs. thrale, during which a crisis was taking place, without his knowledge, in her relations to piozzi. after vehement altercations with her daughters, whom she criticizes with great bitterness for their utter want of heart, she resolved to break with piozzi for at least a time. her plan was to go to bath, and there to retrench her expenses, in the hopes of being able to recall her lover at some future period. meanwhile he left her and returned to italy. after another winter in london, during which johnson was still a frequent inmate of her house, she went to bath with her daughters in april, . a melancholy period followed for both the friends. mrs. thrale lost a younger daughter, and johnson had a paralytic stroke in june. death was sending preliminary warnings. a correspondence was kept up, which implies that the old terms were not ostensibly broken. mrs. thrale speaks tartly more than once; and johnson's letters go into medical details with his customary plainness of speech, and he occasionally indulges in laments over the supposed change in her feelings. the gloom is thickening, and the old playful gallantry has died out. the old man evidently felt himself deserted, and suffered from the breaking-up of the asylum he had loved so well. the final catastrophe came in , less than six months before johnson's death. after much suffering in mind and body, mrs. thrale had at last induced her daughters to consent to her marriage with piozzi. she sent for him at once, and they were married in june, . a painful correspondence followed. mrs. thrale announced her marriage in a friendly letter to johnson, excusing her previous silence on the ground that discussion could only have caused them pain. the revelation, though johnson could not have been quite unprepared, produced one of his bursts of fury. "madam, if i interpret your letter rightly," wrote the old man, "you are ignominiously married. if it is yet undone, let us once more talk together. if you have abandoned your children and your religion, god forgive your wickedness! if you have forfeited your fame and your country, may your folly do no further mischief! if the last act is yet to do, i, who have loved you, esteemed you, reverenced you, and served you--i, who long thought you the first of womankind--entreat that before your fate is irrevocable, i may once more see you! i was, i once was, madam, most truly yours, sam. johnson." mrs. thrale replied with spirit and dignity to this cry of blind indignation, speaking of her husband with becoming pride, and resenting the unfortunate phrase about her loss of "fame." she ended by declining further intercourse till johnson could change his opinion of piozzi. johnson admitted in his reply that he had no right to resent her conduct; expressed his gratitude for the kindness which had "soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched," and implored her ("superfluously," as she says) to induce piozzi to settle in england. he then took leave of her with an expression of sad forebodings. mrs. thrale, now mrs. piozzi, says that she replied affectionately; but the letter is missing. the friendship was broken off, and during the brief remainder of johnson's life, the piozzis were absent from england. of her there is little more to be said. after passing some time in italy, where she became a light of that wretched little della cruscan society of which some faint memory is preserved by gifford's ridicule, now pretty nearly forgotten with its objects, she returned with her husband to england. her anecdotes of johnson, published soon after his death, had a success which, in spite of much ridicule, encouraged her to some further literary efforts of a sprightly but ephemeral kind. she lived happily with piozzi, and never had cause to regret her marriage. she was reconciled to her daughters sufficiently to renew a friendly intercourse; but the elder ones set up a separate establishment. piozzi died not long afterwards. she was still a vivacious old lady, who celebrated her th birthday by a ball, and is supposed at that ripe age to have made an offer of marriage to a young actor. she died in may, , leaving all that she could dispose of to a nephew of piozzi's, who had been naturalised in england. meanwhile johnson was rapidly approaching the grave. his old inmates, levett and miss williams, had gone before him; goldsmith and garrick and beauclerk had become memories of the past; and the gloom gathered thickly around him. the old man clung to life with pathetic earnestness. though life had been often melancholy, he never affected to conceal the horror with which he regarded death. he frequently declared that death must be dreadful to every reasonable man. "death, my dear, is very dreadful," he says simply in a letter to lucy porter in the last year of his life. still later he shocked a pious friend by admitting that the fear oppressed him. dr. adams tried the ordinary consolation of the divine goodness, and went so far as to suggest that hell might not imply much positive suffering. johnson's religious views were of a different colour. "i am afraid," he said, "i may be one of those who shall be damned." "what do you mean by damned?" asked adams. johnson replied passionately and loudly, "sent to hell, sir, and punished everlastingly." remonstrances only deepened his melancholy, and he silenced his friends by exclaiming in gloomy agitation, "i'll have no more on't!" often in these last years he was heard muttering to himself the passionate complaint of claudio, "ah, but to die and go we know not whither!" at other times he was speaking of some lost friend, and saying, "poor man--and then he died!" the peculiar horror of death, which seems to indicate a tinge of insanity, was combined with utter fearlessness of pain. he called to the surgeons to cut deeper when performing a painful operation, and shortly before his death inflicted such wounds upon himself in hopes of obtaining relief as, very erroneously, to suggest the idea of suicide. whilst his strength remained, he endeavoured to disperse melancholy by some of the old methods. in the winter of - he got together the few surviving members of the old ivy lane club, which had flourished when he was composing the _dictionary_; but the old place of meeting had vanished, most of the original members were dead, and the gathering can have been but melancholy. he started another club at the essex head, whose members were to meet twice a week, with the modest fine of threepence for non-attendance. it appears to have included a rather "strange mixture" of people, and thereby to have given some scandal to sir john hawkins and even to reynolds. they thought that his craving for society, increased by his loss of streatham, was leading him to undignified concessions. amongst the members of the club, however, were such men as horsley and windham. windham seems to have attracted more personal regard than most politicians, by a generous warmth of enthusiasm not too common in the class. in politics he was an ardent disciple of burke's, whom he afterwards followed in his separation from the new whigs. but, though adhering to the principles which johnson detested, he knew, like his preceptor, how to win johnson's warmest regard. he was the most eminent of the younger generation who now looked up to johnson as a venerable relic from the past. another was young burke, that very priggish and silly young man as he seems to have been, whose loss, none the less, broke the tender heart of his father. friendships, now more interesting, were those with two of the most distinguished authoresses of the day. one of them was hannah more, who was about this time coming to the conclusion that the talents which had gained her distinction in the literary and even in the dramatic world, should be consecrated to less secular employment. her vivacity during the earlier years of their acquaintance exposed her to an occasional rebuff. "she does not gain upon me, sir; i think her empty-headed," was one of his remarks; and it was to her that he said, according to mrs. thrale, though boswell reports a softened version of the remark, that she should "consider what her flattery was worth, before she choked him with it." more frequently, he seems to have repaid it in kind. "there was no name in poetry," he said, "which might not be glad to own her poem"--the _bas bleu_. certainly johnson did not stick at trifles in intercourse with his female friends. he was delighted, shortly before his death, to "gallant it about" with her at oxford, and in serious moments showed a respectful regard for her merits. hannah more, who thus sat at the feet of johnson, encouraged the juvenile ambition of macaulay, and did not die till the historian had grown into manhood and fame. the other friendship noticed was with fanny burney, who also lived to our own time. johnson's affection for this daughter of his friend seems to have been amongst the tenderest of his old age. when she was first introduced to him at the thrales, she was overpowered and indeed had her head a little turned by flattery of the most agreeable kind that an author can receive. the "great literary leviathan" showed himself to have the recently published _evelina_ at his fingers' ends. he quoted, and almost acted passages. "la! polly!" he exclaimed in a pert feminine accent, "only think! miss has danced with a lord!" how many modern readers can assign its place to that quotation, or answer the question which poor boswell asked in despair and amidst general ridicule for his ignorance, "what is a brangton?" there is something pleasant in the enthusiasm with which men like johnson and burke welcomed the literary achievements of the young lady, whose first novels seem to have made a sensation almost as lively as that produced by miss brontë, and far superior to anything that fell to the lot of miss austen. johnson seems also to have regarded her with personal affection. he had a tender interview with her shortly before his death; he begged her with solemn energy to remember him in her prayers; he apologized pathetically for being unable to see her, as his weakness increased; and sent her tender messages from his deathbed. as the end drew near, johnson accepted the inevitable like a man. after spending most of the latter months of in the country with the friends who, after the loss of the thrales, could give him most domestic comfort, he came back to london to die. he made his will, and settled a few matters of business, and was pleased to be told that he would be buried in westminster abbey. he uttered a few words of solemn advice to those who came near him, and took affecting leave of his friends. langton, so warmly loved, was in close attendance. johnson said to him tenderly, _te teneam moriens deficiente manu_. windham broke from political occupations to sit by the dying man; once langton found burke sitting by his bedside with three or four friends. "i am afraid," said burke, "that so many of us must be oppressive to you." "no, sir, it is not so," replied johnson, "and i must be in a wretched state indeed when your company would not be a delight to me." "my dear sir," said burke, with a breaking voice, "you have always been too good to me;" and parted from his old friend for the last time. of reynolds, he begged three things: to forgive a debt of thirty pounds, to read the bible, and never to paint on sundays. a few flashes of the old humour broke through. he said of a man who sat up with him: "sir, the fellow's an idiot; he's as awkward as a turnspit when first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse." his last recorded words were to a young lady who had begged for his blessing: "god bless you, my dear." the same day, december th, , he gradually sank and died peacefully. he was laid in the abbey by the side of goldsmith, and the playful prediction has been amply fulfilled:-- forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis. the names of many greater writers are inscribed upon the walls of westminster abbey; but scarcely any one lies there whose heart was more acutely responsive during life to the deepest and tenderest of human emotions. in visiting that strange gathering of departed heroes and statesmen and philanthropists and poets, there are many whose words and deeds have a far greater influence upon our imaginations; but there are very few whom, when all has been said, we can love so heartily as samuel johnson. chapter vi. johnson's writings. it remains to speak of johnson's position in literature. for reasons sufficiently obvious, few men whose lives have been devoted to letters for an equal period, have left behind them such scanty and inadequate remains. johnson, as we have seen, worked only under the pressure of circumstances; a very small proportion of his latter life was devoted to literary employment. the working hours of his earlier years were spent for the most part in productions which can hardly be called literary. seven years were devoted to the _dictionary_, which, whatever its merits, could be a book only in the material sense of the word, and was of course destined to be soon superseded. much of his hack-work has doubtless passed into oblivion, and though the ordinary relic-worship has gathered together fragments enough to fill twelve decent octavo volumes (to which may be added the two volumes of parliamentary reports), the part which can be called alive may be compressed into very moderate compass. johnson may be considered as a poet, an essayist, a pamphleteer, a traveller, a critic, and a biographer. among his poems, the two imitations of juvenal, especially the _vanity of human wishes_, and a minor fragment or two, probably deserve more respect than would be conceded to them by adherents of modern schools. his most ambitious work, _irene_, can be read by men in whom a sense of duty has been abnormally developed. among the two hundred and odd essays of the _rambler_, there is a fair proportion which will deserve, but will hardly obtain, respectful attention. _rasselas_, one of the philosophical tales popular in the last century, gives the essence of much of the _rambler_ in a different form, and to these may be added the essay upon soame jenyns, which deals with the same absorbing question of human happiness. the political pamphlets, and the _journey to the hebrides_, have a certain historical interest; but are otherwise readable only in particular passages. much of his criticism is pretty nearly obsolete; but the child of his old age--the _lives of the poets_--a book in which criticism and biography are combined, is an admirable performance in spite of serious defects. it is the work that best reflects his mind, and intelligent readers who have once made its acquaintance, will be apt to turn it into a familiar companion. if it is easy to assign the causes which limited the quantity of johnson's work, it is more curious to inquire what was the quality which once gained for it so much authority, and which now seems to have so far lost its savour. the peculiar style which is associated with johnson's name must count for something in both processes. the mannerism is strongly marked, and of course offensive; for by "mannerism," as i understand the word, is meant the repetition of certain forms of language in obedience to blind habit and without reference to their propriety in the particular case. johnson's sentences seem to be contorted, as his gigantic limbs used to twitch, by a kind of mechanical spasmodic action. the most obvious peculiarity is the tendency which he noticed himself, to "use too big words and too many of them." he had to explain to miss reynolds that the shakesperian line,-- you must borrow me garagantua's mouth, had been applied to him because he used "big words, which require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them." it was not, however, the mere bigness of the words that distinguished his style, but a peculiar love of putting the abstract for the concrete, of using awkward inversions, and of balancing his sentences in a monotonous rhythm, which gives the appearance, as it sometimes corresponds to the reality, of elaborate logical discrimination. with all its faults the style has the merits of masculine directness. the inversions are not such as to complicate the construction. as boswell remarks, he never uses a parenthesis; and his style, though ponderous and wearisome, is as transparent as the smarter snip-snap of macaulay. this singular mannerism appears in his earliest writings; it is most marked at the time of the _rambler_; whilst in the _lives of the poets_, although i think that the trick of inversion has become commoner, the other peculiarities have been so far softened as (in my judgment, at least), to be inoffensive. it is perhaps needless to give examples of a tendency which marks almost every page of his writing. a passage or two from the _rambler_ may illustrate the quality of the style, and the oddity of the effect produced, when it is applied to topics of a trivial kind. the author of the _rambler_ is supposed to receive a remonstrance upon his excessive gravity from the lively flirtilla, who wishes him to write in defence of masquerades. conscious of his own incapacity, he applies to a man of "high reputation in gay life;" who, on the fifth perusal of flirtilla's letter breaks into a rapture, and declares that he is ready to devote himself to her service. here is part of the apostrophe put into the mouth of this brilliant rake. "behold, flirtilla, at thy feet a man grown gray in the study of those noble arts by which right and wrong may be confounded; by which reason may be blinded, when we have a mind to escape from her inspection, and caprice and appetite instated in uncontrolled command and boundless dominion! such a casuist may surely engage with certainty of success in vindication of an entertainment which in an instant gives confidence to the timorous and kindles ardour in the cold, an entertainment where the vigilance of jealousy has so often been clouded, and the virgin is set free from the necessity of languishing in silence; where all the outworks of chastity are at once demolished; where the heart is laid open without a blush; where bashfulness may survive virtue, and no wish is crushed under the frown of modesty." here is another passage, in which johnson is speaking upon a topic more within his proper province; and which contains sound sense under its weight of words. a man, he says, who reads a printed book, is often contented to be pleased without critical examination. "but," he adds, "if the same man be called to consider the merit of a production yet unpublished, he brings an imagination heated with objections to passages which he has never yet heard; he invokes all the powers of criticism, and stores his memory with taste and grace, purity and delicacy, manners and unities, sounds which having been once uttered by those that understood them, have been since re-echoed without meaning, and kept up to the disturbance of the world by constant repercussion from one coxcomb to another. he considers himself as obliged to show by some proof of his abilities, that he is not consulted to no purpose, and therefore watches every opening for objection, and looks round for every opportunity to propose some specious alteration. such opportunities a very small degree of sagacity will enable him to find, for in every work of imagination, the disposition of parts, the insertion of incidents, and use of decorations may be varied in a thousand ways with equal propriety; and, as in things nearly equal that will always seem best to every man which he himself produces, the critic, whose business is only to propose without the care of execution, can never want the satisfaction of believing that he has suggested very important improvements, nor the power of enforcing his advice by arguments, which, as they appear convincing to himself, either his kindness or his vanity will press obstinately and importunately, without suspicion that he may possibly judge too hastily in favour of his own advice or inquiry whether the advantage of the new scheme be proportionate to the labour." we may still notice a "repercussion" of words from one coxcomb to another; though somehow the words have been changed or translated. johnson's style is characteristic of the individual and of the epoch. the preceding generation had exhibited the final triumph of common sense over the pedantry of a decaying scholasticism. the movements represented by locke's philosophy, by the rationalizing school in theology, and by the so-called classicism of pope and his followers, are different phases of the same impulse. the quality valued above all others in philosophy, literature, and art was clear, bright, common sense. to expel the mystery which had served as a cloak for charlatans was the great aim of the time, and the method was to appeal from the professors of exploded technicalities to the judgment of cultivated men of the world. berkeley places his utopia in happy climes,-- where nature guides, and virtue rules, _where men shall not impose for truth and sense the pedantry of courts and schools_. simplicity, clearness, directness are, therefore, the great virtues of thought and style. berkeley, addison, pope, and swift are the great models of such excellence in various departments of literature. in the succeeding generation we become aware of a certain leaven of dissatisfaction with the aesthetic and intellectual code thus inherited. the supremacy of common sense, the superlative importance of clearness, is still fully acknowledged, but there is a growing undertone of dissent in form and substance. attempts are made to restore philosophical conceptions assailed by locke and his followers; the rationalism, of the deistic or semi-deistic writers is declared to be superficial; their optimistic theories disregard the dark side of nature, and provide no sufficient utterance for the sadness caused by the contemplation of human suffering; and the polished monotony of pope's verses begins to fall upon those who shall tread in his steps. some daring sceptics are even inquiring whether he is a poet at all. and simultaneously, though addison is still a kind of sacred model, the best prose writers are beginning to aim at a more complex structure of sentence, fitted for the expression of a wider range of thought and emotion. johnson, though no conscious revolutionist, shares this growing discontent. the _spectator_ is written in the language of the drawing-room and the coffee-house. nothing is ever said which might not pass in conversation between a couple of "wits," with, at most, some graceful indulgence in passing moods of solemn or tender sentiment. johnson, though devoted to society in his own way, was anything but a producer of small talk. society meant to him an escape from the gloom which beset him whenever he was abandoned to his thoughts. neither his education nor the manners acquired in grub street had qualified him to be an observer of those lighter foibles which were touched by addison with so dexterous a hand. when he ventures upon such topics he flounders dreadfully, and rather reminds us of an artist who should attempt to paint miniatures with a mop. no man, indeed, took more of interest in what is called the science of human nature; and, when roused by the stimulus of argument, he could talk, as has been shown, with almost unrivalled vigour and point. but his favourite topics are the deeper springs of character, rather than superficial peculiarities; and his vigorous sayings are concentrated essence of strong sense and deep feeling, not dainty epigrams or graceful embodiments of delicate observation. johnson was not, like some contemporary antiquarians, a systematic student of the english literature of the preceding centuries, but he had a strong affection for some of its chief masterpieces. burton's _anatomy of melancholy_ was, he declared, the only book which ever got him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished. sir thomas browne was another congenial writer, who is supposed to have had some influence upon his style. he never seems to have directly imitated any one, though some nonsense has been talked about his "forming a style;" but it is probable that he felt a closer affinity to those old scholars, with their elaborate and ornate language and their deep and solemn tone of sentiment, than to the brilliant but comparatively superficial writers of queen anne's time. he was, one may say, a scholar of the old type, forced by circumstances upon the world, but always retaining a sympathy for the scholar's life and temper. accordingly, his style acquired something of the old elaboration, though the attempt to conform to the canons of a later age renders the structure disagreeably monotonous. his tendency to pomposity is not redeemed by the _naïveté_ and spontaneity of his masters. the inferiority of johnson's written to his spoken utterances is indicative of his divided life. there are moments at which his writing takes the terse, vigorous tone of his talk. in his letters, such as those to chesterfield and macpherson and in occasional passages of his pamphlets, we see that he could be pithy enough when he chose to descend from his latinized abstractions to good concrete english; but that is only when he becomes excited. his face when in repose, we are told, appeared to be almost imbecile; he was constantly sunk in reveries, from which he was only roused by a challenge to conversation. in his writings, for the most part, we seem to be listening to the reverie rather than the talk; we are overhearing a soliloquy in his study, not a vigorous discussion over the twentieth cup of tea; he is not fairly put upon his mettle, and is content to expound without enforcing. we seem to see a man, heavy-eyed, ponderous in his gestures, like some huge mechanism which grinds out a ponderous tissue of verbiage as heavy as it is certainly solid. the substance corresponds to the style. johnson has something in common with the fashionable pessimism of modern times. no sentimentalist of to-day could be more convinced that life is in the main miserable. it was his favourite theory, according to mrs. thrale, that all human action was prompted by the "vacuity of life." men act solely in the hope of escaping from themselves. evil, as a follower of schopenhauer would assert, is the positive, and good merely the negative of evil. all desire is at bottom an attempt to escape from pain. the doctrine neither resulted from, nor generated, a philosophical theory in johnson's case, and was in the main a generalization of his own experience. not the less, the aim of most of his writing is to express this sentiment in one form or other. he differs, indeed, from most modern sentimentalists, in having the most hearty contempt for useless whining. if he dwells upon human misery, it is because he feels that it is as futile to join with the optimist in ignoring, as with the pessimist in howling over the evil. we are in a sad world, full of pain, but we have to make the best of it. stubborn patience and hard work are the sole remedies, or rather the sole means of temporary escape. much of the _rambler_ is occupied with variations upon this theme, and expresses the kind of dogged resolution with which he would have us plod through this weary world. take for example this passage:--"the controversy about the reality of external evils is now at an end. that life has many miseries, and that those miseries are sometimes at least equal to all the powers of fortitude is now universally confessed; and, therefore, it is useful to consider not only how we may escape them, but by what means those which either the accidents of affairs or the infirmities of nature must bring upon us may be mitigated and lightened, and how we may make those hours less wretched which the condition of our present existence will not allow to be very happy. "the cure for the greatest part of human miseries is not radical, but palliative. infelicity is involved in corporeal nature, and interwoven with our being; all attempts, therefore, to decline it wholly are useless and vain; the armies of pain send their arrows against us on every side, the choice is only between those which are more or less sharp, or tinged with poison of greater or less malignity; and the strongest armour which reason can supply will only blunt their points, but cannot repel them. "the great remedy which heaven has put in our hands is patience, by which, though we cannot lessen the torments of the body, we can in a great measure preserve the peace of the mind, and shall suffer only the natural and genuine force of an evil, without heightening its acrimony or prolonging its effects." it is hardly desirable for a moralist to aim at originality in his precepts. we must be content if he enforces old truths in such a manner as to convince us of the depth and sincerity of his feeling. johnson, it must be confessed, rather abuses the moralist's privilege of being commonplace. he descants not unfrequently upon propositions so trite that even the most earnest enforcement can give them little interest. with all drawbacks, however, the moralizing is the best part of the _rambler_. many of the papers follow the precedent set by addison in the _spectator_, but without addison's felicity. like addison, he indulges in allegory, which, in his hands, becomes unendurably frigid and clumsy; he tries light social satire, and is fain to confess that we can spy a beard under the muffler of his feminine characters; he treats us to criticism which, like addison's, goes upon exploded principles, but unlike addison's, is apt to be almost wilfully outrageous. his odd remarks upon milton's versification are the worst example of this weakness. the result is what one might expect from the attempt of a writer without an ear to sit in judgment upon the greatest master of harmony in the language. these defects have consigned the _rambler_ to the dustiest shelves of libraries, and account for the wonder expressed by such a critic as m. taine at the english love of johnson. certainly if that love were nourished, as he seems to fancy, by assiduous study of the _rambler_, it would be a curious phenomenon. and yet with all its faults, the reader who can plod through its pages will at least feel respect for the author. it is not unworthy of the man whose great lesson is "clear your mind of cant;"[ ] who felt most deeply the misery of the world, but from the bottom of his heart despised querulous and sentimental complaints on one side, and optimist glasses upon the other. to him, as to some others of his temperament, the affectation of looking at the bright side of things seems to have presented itself as the bitterest of mockeries; and nothing would tempt him to let fine words pass themselves off for genuine sense. here are some remarks upon the vanity in which some authors seek for consolation, which may illustrate this love of realities and conclude our quotations from the _rambler_. [footnote : of this well-known sentiment it may be said, as of some other familiar quotations, that its direct meaning has been slightly modified in use. the emphasis is changed. johnson's words were "clear your _mind_ of cant. you may talk as other people do; you may say to a man, sir, i am your humble servant; you are _not_ his most humble servant.... you may _talk_ in this manner; it is a mode of talking in society; but don't _think_ foolishly."] "by such acts of voluntary delusion does every man endeavour to conceal his own unimportance from himself. it is long before we are convinced of the small proportion which every individual bears to the collective body of mankind; or learn how few can be interested in the fortune of any single man; how little vacancy is left in the world for any new object of attention; to how small extent the brightest blaze of merit can be spread amidst the mists of business and of folly; and how soon it is clouded by the intervention of other novelties. not only the writer of books, but the commander of armies, and the deliverer of nations, will easily outlive all noisy and popular reputation: he may be celebrated for a time by the public voice, but his actions and his name will soon be considered as remote and unaffecting, and be rarely mentioned but by those whose alliance gives them some vanity to gratify by frequent commemoration. it seems not to be sufficiently considered how little renown can be admitted in the world. mankind are kept perpetually busy by their fears or desires, and have not more leisure from their own affairs than to acquaint themselves with the accidents of the current day. engaged in contriving some refuge from calamity, or in shortening their way to some new possession, they seldom suffer their thoughts to wander to the past or future; none but a few solitary students have leisure to inquire into the claims of ancient heroes or sages; and names which hoped to range over kingdoms and continents shrink at last into cloisters and colleges. nor is it certain that even of these dark and narrow habitations, these last retreats of fame, the possession will be long kept. of men devoted to literature very few extend their views beyond some particular science, and the greater part seldom inquire, even in their own profession, for any authors but those whom the present mode of study happens to force upon their notice; they desire not to fill their minds with unfashionable knowledge, but contentedly resign to oblivion those books which they now find censured or neglected." the most remarkable of johnson's utterances upon his favourite topic of the vanity of human wishes is the story of _rasselas_. the plan of the book is simple, and recalls certain parts of voltaire's simultaneous but incomparably more brilliant attack upon optimism in _candide_. there is supposed to be a happy valley in abyssinia where the royal princes are confined in total seclusion, but with ample supplies for every conceivable want. rasselas, who has been thus educated, becomes curious as to the outside world, and at last makes his escape with his sister, her attendant, and the ancient sage and poet, imlac. under imlac's guidance they survey life and manners in various stations; they make the acquaintance of philosophers, statesmen, men of the world, and recluses; they discuss the results of their experience pretty much in the style of the _rambler_; they agree to pronounce the sentence "vanity of vanities!" and finally, in a "conclusion where nothing is concluded," they resolve to return to the happy valley. the book is little more than a set of essays upon life, with just story enough to hold it together. it is wanting in those brilliant flashes of epigram, which illustrate voltaire's pages so as to blind some readers to its real force of sentiment, and yet it leaves a peculiar and powerful impression upon the reader. the general tone may be collected from a few passages. here is a fragment, the conclusion of which is perhaps the most familiar of quotations from johnson's writings. imlac in narrating his life describes his attempts to become a poet. "the business of a poet," said imlac, "is to examine not the individual, but the species; to remark general properties and large appearances; he does not number the streaks of the tulip or describe the different shades in the verdure of the forest. he is to exhibit in his portraits of nature such prominent and striking features as recall the original to every mind; and must neglect the minute discriminations which one may have remarked, and another have neglected for those characteristics which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness." "but the knowledge of nature is only half the task of a poet; he must be acquainted likewise with all the modes of life. his character requires that he estimate the happiness and misery of every condition; observe the power of all the passions in all their combinations, and know the changes of the human mind as they are modified by various institutions, and accidental influences of climate or custom, from the sprightliness of infancy to the despondency of decrepitude. he must divest himself of the prejudices of his age or country; he must consider right and wrong in their abstracted and invariable state; he must disregard present laws and opinions, and rise to general and transcendental truths, which will always be the same; he must therefore content himself with the slow progress of his name; contemn the applause of his own time, and commit his claims to the justice of posterity. he must write as the interpreter of nature and the legislator of mankind, and consider himself as presiding over the thoughts and manners of future generations, as a being superior to time and place. "his labours are not yet at an end; he must know many languages and many sciences; and that his style may be worthy of his thoughts, must by incessant practice familiarize to himself every delicacy of speech and grace of harmony." imlac now felt the enthusiastic fit and was proceeding to aggrandize his profession, when the prince cried out, "enough, thou hast convinced me that no human being can ever be a poet." indeed, johnson's conception of poetry is not the one which is now fashionable, and which would rather seem to imply that philosophical power and moral sensibility are so far disqualifications to the true poet. here, again, is a view of the superfine system of moral philosophy. a meeting of learned men is discussing the ever-recurring problem of happiness, and one of them speaks as follows:-- "the way to be happy is to live according to nature, in obedience to that universal and unalterable law with which every heart is originally impressed; which is not written on it by precept, but engraven by destiny, not instilled by education, but infused at our nativity. he that lives according to nature will suffer nothing from the delusions of hope, or importunities of desire; he will receive and reject with equability of temper, and act or suffer as the reason of things shall alternately prescribe. other men may amuse themselves with subtle definitions or intricate ratiocinations. let him learn to be wise by easier means: let him observe the hind of the forest, and the linnet of the grove; let him consider the life of animals whose motions are regulated by instinct; they obey their guide and are happy. "let us, therefore, at length cease to dispute, and learn to live; throw away the incumbrance of precepts, which they who utter them with so much pride and pomp do not understand, and carry with us this simple and intelligible maxim, that deviation from nature is deviation from happiness." the prince modestly inquires what is the precise meaning of the advice just given. "when i find young men so humble and so docile," said the philosopher, "i can deny them no information which my studies have enabled me to afford. to live according to nature, is to act always with due regard to the fitness arising from the relations and qualities of causes and effects, to concur with the great and unchangeable scheme of universal felicity; to co-operate with the general disposition and tendency of the present system of things. "the prince soon found that this was one of the sages, whom he should understand less as he heard him longer." here, finally, is a characteristic reflection upon the right mode of meeting sorrow. "the state of a mind oppressed with a sudden calamity," said imlac, "is like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new created earth, who, when the first night came upon them, supposed that day would never return. when the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. but as they who restrain themselves from receiving comfort, do as the savages would have done, had they put out their eyes when it was dark. our minds, like our bodies, are in continual flux; something is hourly lost, and something acquired. to lose much at once is inconvenient to either, but while the vital powers remain uninjured, nature will find the means of reparation. "distance has the same effect on the mind as on the eye, and while we glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave behind us is always lessening, and that which we approach increasing in magnitude. do not suffer life to stagnate; it will grow muddy for want of motion; commit yourself again to the current of the world; pekuah will vanish by degrees; you will meet in your way some other favourite, or learn to diffuse yourself in general conversation." in one respect _rasselas_ is curiously contrasted with _candide_. voltaire's story is aimed at the doctrine of theological optimism, and, whether that doctrine be well or ill understood, has therefore an openly sceptical tendency. johnson, to whom nothing could be more abhorrent than an alliance with any assailant of orthodoxy, draws no inference from his pessimism. he is content to state the fact of human misery without perplexing himself with the resulting problem as to the final cause of human existence. if the question had been explicitly brought before him, he would, doubtless, have replied that the mystery was insoluble. to answer either in the sceptical or the optimistic sense was equally presumptuous. johnson's religious beliefs in fact were not such as to suggest that kind of comfort which is to be obtained by explaining away the existence of evil. if he, too, would have said that in some sense all must be for the best in a world ruled by a perfect creator, the sense must be one which would allow of the eternal misery of indefinite multitudes of his creatures. but, in truth, it was characteristic of johnson to turn away his mind from such topics. he was interested in ethical speculations, but on the practical side, in the application to life, not in the philosophy on which it might be grounded. in that direction, he could see nothing but a "milking of the bull"--a fruitless or rather a pernicious waste of intellect. an intense conviction of the supreme importance of a moral guidance in this difficult world, made him abhor any rash inquiries by which the basis of existing authority might be endangered. this sentiment is involved in many of those prejudices which have been so much, and in some sense justifiably ridiculed. man has been wretched and foolish since the race began, and will be till it ends; one chorus of lamentation has ever been rising, in countless dialects but with a single meaning; the plausible schemes of philosophers give no solution to the everlasting riddle; the nostrums of politicians touch only the surface of the deeply-rooted evil; it is folly to be querulous, and as silly to fancy that men are growing worse, as that they are much better than they used to be. the evils under which we suffer are not skin-deep, to be eradicated by changing the old physicians for new quacks. what is to be done under such conditions, but to hold fast as vigorously as we can to the rules of life and faith which have served our ancestors, and which, whatever their justifications, are at least the only consolation, because they supply the only guidance through this labyrinth of troubles? macaulay has ridiculed johnson for what he takes to be the ludicrous inconsistency of his intense political prejudice, combined with his assertion of the indifference of all forms of government. "if," says macaulay, "the difference between two forms of government be not worth half a guinea, it is not easy to see how whiggism can be viler than toryism, or the crown can have too little power." the answer is surely obvious. whiggism is vile, according to the doctor's phrase, because whiggism is a "negation of all principle;" it is in his view, not so much the preference of one form to another, as an attack upon the vital condition of all government. he called burke a "bottomless whig" in this sense, implying that whiggism meant anarchy; and in the next generation a good many people were led, rightly or wrongly, to agree with him by the experience of the french revolution. this dogged conservatism has both its value and its grotesque side. when johnson came to write political pamphlets in his later years, and to deal with subjects little familiar to his mind, the results were grotesque enough. loving authority, and holding one authority to be as good as another, he defended with uncompromising zeal the most preposterous and tyrannical measures. the pamphlets against the wilkite agitators and the american rebels are little more than a huge "rhinoceros" snort of contempt against all who are fools enough or wicked enough to promote war and disturbance in order to change one form of authority for another. here is a characteristic passage, giving his view of the value of such demonstrators:-- "the progress of a petition is well known. an ejected placeman goes down to his county or his borough, tells his friends of his inability to serve them and his constituents, of the corruption of the government. his friends readily understand that he who can get nothing, will have nothing to give. they agree to proclaim a meeting. meat and drink are plentifully provided, a crowd is easily brought together, and those who think that they know the reason of the meeting undertake to tell those who know it not. ale and clamour unite their powers; the crowd, condensed and heated, begins to ferment with the leaven of sedition. all see a thousand evils, though they cannot show them, and grow impatient for a remedy, though they know not what. "a speech is then made by the cicero of the day; he says much and suppresses more, and credit is equally given to what he tells and what he conceals. the petition is heard and universally approved. those who are sober enough to write, add their names, and the rest would sign it if they could. "every man goes home and tells his neighbour of the glories of the day; how he was consulted, and what he advised; how he was invited into the great room, where his lordship caressed him by his name; how he was caressed by sir francis, sir joseph, and sir george; how he ate turtle and venison, and drank unanimity to the three brothers. "the poor loiterer, whose shop had confined him or whose wife had locked him up, hears the tale of luxury with envy, and at last inquires what was their petition. of the petition nothing is remembered by the narrator, but that it spoke much of fears and apprehensions and something very alarming, but that he is sure it is against the government. "the other is convinced that it must be right, and wishes he had been there, for he loves wine and venison, and resolves as long as he lives to be against the government. "the petition is then handed from town to town, and from house to house; and wherever it comes, the inhabitants flock together that they may see that which must be sent to the king. names are easily collected. one man signs because he hates the papists; another because he has vowed destruction to the turnpikes; one because it will vex the parson; another because he owes his landlord nothing; one because he is rich; another because he is poor; one to show that he is not afraid; and another to show that he can write." the only writing in which we see a distinct reflection of johnson's talk is the _lives of the poets_. the excellence of that book is of the same kind as the excellence of his conversation. johnson wrote it under pressure, and it has suffered from his characteristic indolence. modern authors would fill as many pages as johnson has filled lines, with the biographies of some of his heroes. by industriously sweeping together all the rubbish which is in any way connected with the great man, by elaborately discussing the possible significance of infinitesimal bits of evidence, and by disquisition upon general principles or the whole mass of contemporary literature, it is easy to swell volumes to any desired extent. the result is sometimes highly interesting and valuable, as it is sometimes a new contribution to the dust-heaps; but in any case the design is something quite different from johnson's. he has left much to be supplied and corrected by later scholars. his aim is simply to give a vigorous summary of the main facts of his heroes' lives, a pithy analysis of their character, and a short criticism of their productions. the strong sense which is everywhere displayed, the massive style, which is yet easier and less cumbrous than in his earlier work, and the uprightness and independence of the judgments, make the book agreeable even where we are most inclined to dissent from its conclusions. the criticism is that of a school which has died out under the great revolution of modern taste. the booksellers decided that english poetry began for their purposes with cowley, and johnson has, therefore, nothing to say about some of the greatest names in our literature. the loss is little to be regretted, since the biographical part of earlier memoirs must have been scanty, and the criticism inappreciative. johnson, it may be said, like most of his contemporaries, considered poetry almost exclusively from the didactic and logical point of view. he always inquires what is the moral of a work of art. if he does not precisely ask "what it proves," he pays excessive attention to the logical solidity and coherence of its sentiments. he condemns not only insincerity and affectation of feeling, but all such poetic imagery as does not correspond to the actual prosaic belief of the writer. for the purely musical effects of poetry he has little or no feeling, and allows little deviation from the alternate long and short syllables neatly bound in pope's couplets. to many readers this would imply that johnson omits precisely the poetic element in poetry. i must be here content to say that in my opinion it implies rather a limitation than a fundamental error. johnson errs in supposing that his logical tests are at all adequate; but it is, i think, a still greater error to assume that poetry has no connexion, because it has not this kind of connexion, with philosophy. his criticism has always a meaning, and in the case of works belonging to his own school a very sound meaning. when he is speaking of other poetry, we can only reply that his remarks may be true, but that they are not to the purpose. the remarks on the poetry of dryden, addison, and pope are generally excellent, and always give the genuine expression of an independent judgment. whoever thinks for himself, and says plainly what he thinks, has some merit as a critic. this, it is true, is about all that can be said for such criticism as that on _lycidas_, which is a delicious example of the wrong way of applying strong sense to inappropriate topics. nothing can be truer in a sense, and nothing less relevant. "in this poem," he says, "there is no nature, for there is no truth; there is no art, for there is nothing new. its form is that of a pastoral, easy, vulgar, and therefore disgusting; whatever images it can supply are easily exhausted, and its inherent improbability always forces dissatisfaction on the mind. when cowley tells of hervey that they studied together, it is easy to suppose how much he must miss the companion of his labours and the partner of his discoveries; but what image of tenderness can be excited by these lines?-- we drove afield, and both together heard what time the gray fly winds her sultry horn, battening our flocks with the fresh dews of night. we know that they never drove a-field and had no flocks to batten; and though it be allowed that the representation may be allegorical, the true meaning is so uncertain and remote that it is never sought, because it cannot be known when it is found. "among the flocks and copses and flowers appear the heathen deities: jove and phoebus, neptune and aeolus, with a long train of mythological imagery such as a college easily supplies. nothing can less display knowledge or less exercise invention than to tell how a shepherd has lost his companion, and must now feed his flocks alone, without any judge of his skill in piping; how one god asks another god what has become of lycidas, and neither god can tell. he who thus grieves will excite no sympathy; he who thus praises will confer no honour." this is of course utterly outrageous, and yet much of it is undeniably true. to explain why, in spite of truth, _lycidas_ is a wonderful poem, would be to go pretty deeply into the theory of poetic expression. most critics prefer simply to shriek, being at any rate safe from the errors of independent judgment. the general effect of the book, however, is not to be inferred from this or some other passages of antiquated and eccentric criticism. it is the shrewd sense everywhere cropping up which is really delightful. the keen remarks upon life and character, though, perhaps, rather too severe in tone, are worthy of a vigorous mind, stored with much experience of many classes, and braced by constant exercise in the conversational arena. passages everywhere abound which, though a little more formal in expression, have the forcible touch of his best conversational sallies. some of the prejudices, which are expressed more pithily in _boswell_, are defended by a reasoned exposition in the _lives_. sentence is passed with the true judicial air; and if he does not convince us of his complete impartiality, he at least bases his decisions upon solid and worthy grounds. it would be too much, for example, to expect that johnson should sympathize with the grand republicanism of milton, or pardon a man who defended the execution of the blessed martyr. he failed, therefore, to satisfy the ardent admirers of the great poet. yet his judgment is not harsh or ungenerous, but, at worst, the judgment of a man striving to be just, in spite of some inevitable want of sympathy. the quality of johnson's incidental remarks may be inferred from one or two brief extracts. here is an observation which johnson must have had many chances of verifying. speaking of dryden's money difficulties, he says, "it is well known that he seldom lives frugally who lives by chance. hope is always liberal, and they that trust her promises, make little scruple of revelling to-day on the profits of the morrow." here is another shrewd comment upon the compliments paid to halifax, of whom pope says in the character of bufo,-- fed with soft dedications all day long, horace and he went hand and hand in song. "to charge all unmerited praise with the guilt of flattery, or to suppose that the encomiast always knows and feels the falsehoods of his assertions, is surely to discover great ignorance of human nature and of human life. in determinations depending not on rules, but on reference and comparison, judgment is always in some degree subject to affection. very near to admiration is the wish to admire. "every man willingly gives value to the praise which he receives, and considers the sentence passed in his favour as the sentence of discernment. we admire in a friend that understanding that selected us for confidence; we admire more in a patron that bounty which, instead of scattering bounty indiscriminately, directed it to us; and if the patron be an author, those performances which gratitude forbids us to blame, affection will easily dispose us to exalt. "to these prejudices, hardly culpable, interest adds a power always operating, though not always, because not willingly, perceived. the modesty of praise gradually wears away; and, perhaps, the pride of patronage may be in time so increased that modest praise will no longer please. "many a blandishment was practised upon halifax, which he would never have known had he no other attractions than those of his poetry, of which a short time has withered the beauties. it would now be esteemed no honour by a contributor to the monthly bundles of verses, to be told that, in strains either familiar or solemn, he sings like halifax." i will venture to make a longer quotation from the life of pope, which gives, i think, a good impression of his manner:-- "of his social qualities, if an estimate be made from his letters, an opinion too favourable cannot easily be formed; they exhibit a perpetual and unclouded effulgence of general benevolence and particular fondness. there is nothing but liberality, gratitude, constancy, and tenderness. it has been so long said as to be commonly believed, that the true characters of men may be found in their letters, and that he who writes to his friend lays his heart open before him. "but the truth is, that such were the simple friendships of the golden age, and are now the friendships only of children. very few can boast of hearts which they dare lay open to themselves, and of which, by whatever accident exposed, they do not shun a distinct and continued view; and certainly what we hide from ourselves, we do not show to our friends. there is, indeed, no transaction which offers stronger temptations to fallacy and sophistication than epistolary intercourse. "in the eagerness of conversation, the first emotions of the mind often burst out before they are considered. in the tumult of business, interest and passion have their genuine effect; but a friendly letter is a calm and deliberate performance in the cool of leisure, in the stillness of solitude, and surely no man sits down by design to depreciate his own character. "friendship has no tendency to secure veracity; for by whom can a man so much wish to be thought better than he is, as by him whose kindness he desires to gain or keep? even in writing to the world there is less constraint; the author is not confronted with his reader, and takes his chance of approbation among the different dispositions of mankind; but a letter is addressed to a single mind, of which the prejudices and partialities are known, and must therefore please, if not by favouring them, by forbearing to oppose them. to charge those favourable representations which men give of their own minds, with the guilt of hypocritical falsehood, would show more severity than knowledge. the writer commonly believes himself. almost every man's thoughts while they are general are right, and most hearts are pure while temptation is away. it is easy to awaken generous sentiments in privacy; to despise death when there is no danger; to glow with benevolence when there is nothing to be given. while such ideas are formed they are felt, and self-love does not suspect the gleam of virtue to be the meteor of fancy. "if the letters of pope are considered merely as compositions, they seem to be premeditated and artificial. it is one thing to write, because there is something which the mind wishes to discharge; and another to solicit the imagination, because ceremony or vanity requires something to be written. pope confesses his early letters to be vitiated with _affectation and ambition_. to know whether he disentangles himself from these perverters of epistolary integrity, his book and his life must be set in comparison. one of his favourite topics is contempt of his own poetry. for this, if it had been real, he would deserve no commendation; and in this he was certainly not sincere, for his high value of himself was sufficiently observed; and of what could he be proud but of his poetry? he writes, he says, when 'he has just nothing else to do,' yet swift complains that he was never at leisure for conversation, because he 'had always some poetical scheme in his head.' it was punctually required that his writing-box should be set upon his bed before he rose; and lord oxford's domestic related that, in the dreadful winter of ' , she was called from her bed by him four times in one night, to supply him with paper lest he should lose a thought. "he pretends insensibility to censure and criticism, though it was observed by all who knew him that every pamphlet disturbed his quiet, and that his extreme irritability laid him open to perpetual vexation; but he wished to despise his critics, and therefore hoped he did despise them. as he happened to live in two reigns when the court paid little attention to poetry, he nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings, and proclaims that 'he never sees courts.' yet a little regard shown him by the prince of wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he was asked by his royal highness, 'how he could love a prince while he disliked kings.'" johnson's best poetry is the versified expression of the tone of sentiment with which we are already familiar. the _vanity of human wishes_ is, perhaps, the finest poem written since pope's time and in pope's manner, with the exception of goldsmith's still finer performances. johnson, it need hardly be said, has not goldsmith's exquisite fineness of touch and delicacy of sentiment. he is often ponderous and verbose, and one feels that the mode of expression is not that which is most congenial; and yet the vigour of thought makes itself felt through rather clumsy modes of utterance. here is one of the best passages, in which he illustrates the vanity of military glory:-- on what foundation stands the warrior's pride, how just his hopes let swedish charles decide; a frame of adamant, a soul of fire, no dangers fright him and no labours tire; o'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain; no joys to him pacific sceptres yield, war sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; behold surrounding kings their powers combine, and one capitulate, and one resign: peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain. "think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain; on moscow's walls till gothic standards fly, and all be mine beneath the polar sky?" the march begins in military state, and nations on his eye suspended wait; stern famine guards the solitary coast, and winter barricades the realms of frost. he comes, nor want nor cold his course delay-- hide, blushing glory, hide pultowa's day! the vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, and shows his miseries in distant lands; condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, while ladies interpose and slaves debate-- but did not chance at length her error mend? did no subverted empire mark his end? did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? or hostile millions press him to the ground? his fall was destined to a barren strand, a petty fortress and a dubious hand; he left the name at which the world grew pale, to point a moral and adorn a tale. the concluding passage may also fitly conclude this survey of johnson's writings. the sentiment is less gloomy than is usual, but it gives the answer which he would have given in his calmer moods to the perplexed riddle of life; and, in some form or other, it is, perhaps, the best or the only answer that can be given:-- where, then, shall hope and fear their objects find? must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise? no cries invoke the mercies of the skies? inquirer cease; petitions yet remain which heaven may hear, nor deem religion vain; still raise for good the supplicating voice, but leave to heaven the measure and the choice safe in his power whose eyes discern afar the secret ambush of a specious prayer. implore his aid, in his decisions rest, secure whate'er he gives--he gives the best. yet when the scene of sacred presence fires, and strong devotion to the skies aspires, pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, obedient passions and a will resign'd; for love, which scarce collective men can fill; for patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; for faith, that panting for a happier seat, counts death kind nature's signal of retreat. these goods for man the laws of heaven ordain, these goods he grants who grants the power to gain; with these celestial wisdom calms the mind, and makes the happiness she does not find. the end. boswell's life of johnson by james boswell abridged and edited, with an introduction by charles grosvenor osgood professor of english at princeton university preface in making this abridgement of boswell's life of johnson i have omitted most of boswell's criticisms, comments, and notes, all of johnson's opinions in legal cases, most of the letters, and parts of the conversation dealing with matters which were of greater importance in boswell's day than now. i have kept in mind an old habit, common enough, i dare say, among its devotees, of opening the book of random, and reading wherever the eye falls upon a passage of especial interest. all such passages, i hope, have been retained, and enough of the whole book to illustrate all the phases of johnson's mind and of his time which boswell observed. loyal johnsonians may look upon such a book with a measure of scorn. i could not have made it, had i not believed that it would be the means of drawing new readers to boswell, and eventually of finding for them in the complete work what many have already found--days and years of growing enlightenment and happy companionship, and an innocent refuge from the cares and perturbations of life. princeton, june , . introduction phillips brooks once told the boys at exeter that in reading biography three men meet one another in close intimacy--the subject of the biography, the author, and the reader. of the three the most interesting is, of course, the man about whom the book is written. the most privileged is the reader, who is thus allowed to live familiarly with an eminent man. least regarded of the three is the author. it is his part to introduce the others, and to develop between them an acquaintance, perhaps a friendship, while he, though ever busy and solicitous, withdraws into the background. some think that boswell, in his life of johnson, did not sufficiently realize his duty of self-effacement. he is too much in evidence, too bustling, too anxious that his own opinion, though comparatively unimportant, should get a hearing. in general, boswell's faults are easily noticed, and have been too much talked about. he was morbid, restless, self-conscious, vain, insinuating; and, poor fellow, he died a drunkard. but the essential boswell, the skilful and devoted artist, is almost unrecognized. as the creator of the life of johnson he is almost as much effaced as is homer in the odyssey. he is indeed so closely concealed that the reader suspects no art at all. boswell's performance looks easy enough--merely the more or less coherent stringing together of a mass of memoranda. nevertheless it was rare and difficult, as is the highest achievement in art. boswell is primarily the artist, and he has created one of the great masterpieces of the world.* he created nothing else, though his head was continually filling itself with literary schemes that came to nought. but into his life of johnson he poured all his artistic energies, as milton poured his into paradise lost, and vergil his into the aneid. * here i include his journal of a tour of the hebrides as essentially a part of the life. the journal of a tour in corsica is but a propaedeutic study. first, boswell had the industry and the devotion to his task of an artist. twenty years and more he labored in collecting his material. he speaks frankly of his methods. he recorded the talk of johnson and his associates partly by a rough shorthand of his own, partly by an exceptional memory, which he carefully trained for this very purpose. 'o for shorthand to take this down!' said he to mrs. thrale as they listened to johnson; and she replied: 'you'll carry it all in your head; a long head is as good as shorthand.' miss hannah more recalls a gay meeting at the garricks', in johnson's absence, when boswell was bold enough to match his skill with no other than garrick himself in an imitation of johnson. though garrick was more successful in his johnsonian recitation of poetry, boswell won in reproducing his familiar conversation. he lost no time in perfecting his notes both mental and stenographic, and sat up many a night followed by a day of headache, to write them in final form, that none of the freshness and glow might fade. the sheer labor of this process, not to mention the difficulty, can be measured only by one who attempts a similar feat. let him try to report the best conversation of a lively evening, following its course, preserving its point, differentiating sharply the traits of the participants, keeping the style, idiom, and exact words of each. let him reject all parts of it, however diverting, of which the charm and force will evaporate with the occasion, and retain only that which will be as amusing, significant, and lively as ever at the end of one hundred, or, for all that we can see, one thousand years. he will then, in some measure, realize the difficulty of boswell's performance. when his work appeared boswell himself said: 'the stretch of mind and prompt assiduity by which so many conversations are preserved, i myself, at some distance of time, contemplate with wonder.' he was indefatigable in hunting up and consulting all who had known parts or aspects of johnson's life which to him were inaccessible. he mentions all told more than fifty names of men and women whom he consulted for information, to which number many others should be added of those who gave him nothing that he could use. 'i have sometimes been obliged to run half over london, in order to fix a date correctly.' he agonized over his work with the true devotion of an artist: 'you cannot imagine,' he says, 'what labor, what perplexity, what vexation i have endured in arranging a prodigious multiplicity of materials, in supplying omissions, in searching for papers buried in different masses, and all this besides the exertion of composing and polishing.' he despairs of making his picture vivid or full enough, and of ever realizing his preconception of his masterpiece. boswell's devotion to his work appears in even more extraordinary ways. throughout he repeatedly offers himself as a victim to illustrate his great friend's wit, ill-humor, wisdom, affection, or goodness. he never spares himself, except now and then to assume a somewhat diaphanous anonymity. without regard for his own dignity, he exhibits himself as humiliated, or drunken, or hypochondriac, or inquisitive, or resorting to petty subterfuge--anything for the accomplishment of his one main purpose. 'nay, sir,' said johnson, 'it was not the wine that made your head ache, but the sense that i put into it.' 'what, sir,' asks the hapless boswell, 'will sense make the head ache?' 'yes, sir, when it is not used to it.' boswell is also the artist in his regard for truth. in him it was a passion. again and again he insists upon his authenticity. he developed an infallible gust and unerring relish of what was genuinely johnsonian in speech, writing, or action; and his own account leads to the inference that he discarded, as worthless, masses of diverting material which would have tempted a less scrupulous writer beyond resistance. 'i observed to him,' said boswell, 'that there were very few of his friends so accurate as that i could venture to put down in writing what they told me as his sayings.' the faithfulness of his portrait, even to the minutest details, is his unremitting care, and he subjects all contributed material to the sternest criticism. industry and love of truth alone will not make the artist. with only these boswell might have been merely a tireless transcriber. but he had besides a keen sense of artistic values. this appears partly in the unity of his vast work. though it was years in the making, though the details that demanded his attention were countless, yet they all centre consistently in one figure, and are so focused upon it, that one can hardly open the book at random to a line which has not its direct bearing upon the one subject of the work. nor is the unity of the book that of an undeviating narrative in chronological order of one man's life; it grows rather out of a single dominating personality exhibited in all the vicissitudes of a manifold career. boswell often speaks of his work as a painting, a portrait, and of single incidents as pictures or scenes in a drama. his eye is keen for contrasts, for picturesque moments, for dramatic action. while it is always the same johnson whom he makes the central figure, he studies to shift the background, the interlocutors, the light and shade, in search of new revelations and effects. he presents a succession of many scenes, exquisitely wrought, of johnson amid widely various settings of eighteenth-century england. and subject and setting are so closely allied that each borrows charm and emphasis from the other. let the devoted reader of boswell ask himself what glamor would fade from the church of st. clement danes, from the mitre, from fleet street, the oxford coach, and lichfield, if the burly figure were withdrawn from them; or what charm and illumination, of the man himself would have been lost apart from these settings. it is the unseen hand of the artist boswell that has wrought them inseparably into this reciprocal effect. the single scenes and pictures which boswell has given us will all of them bear close scrutiny for their precision, their economy of means, their lifelikeness, their artistic effect. none was wrought more beautifully, nor more ardently, than that of johnson's interview with the king. first we see the plain massive figure of the scholar amid the elegant comfort of buckingham house. he is intent on his book before the fire. then the approach of the king, lighted on his way by mr. barnard with candles caught from a table; their entrance by a private door, with johnson's unconscious absorption, his sudden surprise, his starting up, his dignity, the king's ease with him, their conversation, in which the king courteously draws from johnson knowledge of that in which johnson is expert, johnson's manly bearing and voice throughout--all is set forth with the unadorned vividness and permanent effect which seem artless enough, but which are characteristic of only the greatest art. boswell's life of johnson is further a masterpiece of art in that it exerts the vigorous energy of a masterpiece, an abundance of what, for want of a better word, we call personality. it is boswell's confessed endeavor to add this quality to the others, because he perceived that it was an essential quality of johnson himself, and he more than once laments his inability to transmit the full force and vitality of his original. besides artistic perception and skill it required in him admiration and enthusiasm to seize this characteristic and impart it to his work. his admiration he confesses unashamed: 'i said i worshipped him . . . i cannot help worshipping him, he is so much superior to other men.' he studied his subject intensely. 'during all the course of my long intimacy with him, my respectful attention never abated.' upon such intensity and such ardor and enthusiasm depend the energy and animation of his portrait. but it exhibits other personal qualities than these, which, if less often remarked, are at any rate unconsciously enjoyed. boswell had great social charm. his friends are agreed upon his liveliness and good nature. johnson called him 'clubbable,' 'the best traveling companion in the world,' 'one scotchman who is cheerful,' 'a man whom everybody likes,' 'a man who i believe never left a house without leaving a wish for his return.' his vivacity, his love of fun, his passion for good company and friendship, his sympathy, his amiability, which made him acceptable everywhere, have mingled throughout with his own handiwork, and cause it to radiate a kind of genial warmth. this geniality it may be which has attracted so many readers to the book. they find themselves in good company, in a comfortable, pleasant place, agreeably stimulated with wit and fun, and cheered with friendliness. they are loth to leave it, and would ever enter it again. this rare charm the book owes in large measure to its creator. the alliance of author with subject in boswell's johnson is one of the happiest and most sympathetic the world has known. so close is it that one cannot easily discern what great qualities the work owes to each. while it surely derives more of its excellence than is commonly remarked from the art of boswell, its greatness after all is ultimately that of its subject. the noble qualities of johnson have been well discerned by carlyle, and his obvious peculiarities and prejudices somewhat magnified and distorted in macaulay's brilliant refractions. one quality only shall i dwell upon, though that may be the sum of all the rest. johnson had a supreme capacity for human relationship. in him this capacity amounted to genius. in all respects he was of great stature. his contemporaries called him a colossus, the literary goliath, the giant, the great cham of literature, a tremendous companion. his frame was majestic; he strode when he walked, and his physical strength and courage were heroic. his mode of speaking was 'very impressive,' his utterance 'deliberate and strong.' his conversation was compared to 'an antique statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct and bold.' from boyhood throughout his life his companions naturally deferred to him, and he dominated them without effort. but what overcame the harshness of this autocracy, and made it reasonable, was the largeness of a nature that loved men and was ever hungry for knowledge of them. 'sir,' said he, 'i look upon every day lost in which i do not make a new acquaintance.' and again: 'why, sir, i am a man of the world. i live in the world, and i take, in some degree, the color of the world as it moves along.' thus he was a part of all that he met, a central figure in his time, with whose opinion one must reckon in considering any important matter of his day. his love of london is but a part of his hunger for men. 'the happiness of london is not to be conceived but by those who have been in it.' 'why, sir, you find no man at all intellectual who is willing to leave london: no, sir, when a man is tired of london, he is tired of life; for there is in london all that life can afford.' as he loved london, so he loved a tavern for its sociability. 'sir, there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern.' 'a tavern chair is the throne of human felicity.' personal words are often upon his lips, such as 'love' and 'hate,' and vast is the number, range, and variety of people who at one time or another had been in some degree personally related with him, from bet flint and his black servant francis, to the adored duchess of devonshire and the king himself. to no one who passed a word with him was he personally indifferent. even fools received his personal attention. said one: 'but i don't understand you, sir.' 'sir, i have found you an argument. i am not obliged to find you an understanding.' 'sir, you are irascible,' said boswell; 'you have no patience with folly or absurdity.' but it is in johnson's capacity for friendship that his greatness is specially revealed. 'keep your friendships in good repair.' as the old friends disappeared, new ones came to him. for johnson seems never to have sought out friends. he was not a common 'mixer.' he stooped to no devices for the sake of popularity. he pours only scorn upon the lack of mind and conviction which is necessary to him who is everybody's friend. his friendships included all classes and all ages. he was a great favorite with children, and knew how to meet them, from little four-months-old veronica boswell to his godchild jane langton. 'sir,' said he, 'i love the acquaintance of young people, . . . young men have more virtue than old men; they have more generous sentiments in every respect.' at sixty-eight he said: 'i value myself upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in my conversation.' upon women of all classes and ages he exerts without trying a charm the consciousness of which would have turned any head less constant than his own, and with their fulsome adoration he was pleased none the less for perceiving its real value. but the most important of his friendships developed between him and such men of genius as boswell, david garrick, oliver goldsmith, sir joshua reynolds, and edmund burke. johnson's genius left no fit testimony of itself from his own hand. with all the greatness of his mind he had no talent in sufficient measure by which fully to express himself. he had no ear for music and no eye for painting, and the finest qualities in the creations of goldsmith were lost upon him. but his genius found its talents in others, and through the talents of his personal friends expressed itself as it were by proxy. they rubbed their minds upon his, and he set in motion for them ideas which they might use. but the intelligence of genius is profounder and more personal than mere ideas. it has within it something energetic, expansive, propulsive from mind to mind, perennial, yet steady and controlled; and it was with such force that johnson's almost superhuman personality inspired the art of his friends. of this they were in some degree aware. reynolds confessed that johnson formed his mind, and 'brushed from it a great deal of rubbish.' gibbon called johnson 'reynolds' oracle.' in one of his discourses sir joshua, mindful no doubt of his own experience, recommends that young artists seek the companionship of such a man merely as a tonic to their art. boswell often testifies to the stimulating effect of johnson's presence. once he speaks of 'an animating blaze of eloquence, which roused every intellectual power in me to the highest pitch'; and again of the 'full glow' of johnson's conversation, in which he felt himself 'elevated as if brought into another state of being.' he says that all members of johnson's 'school' 'are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy which they would not have possessed in the same degree if they had not been acquainted with johnson.' he quotes johnson at length and repeatedly as the author of his own large conception of biography. he was goldsmith's 'great master,' garrick feared his criticism, and one cannot but recognize the power of johnson's personality in the increasing intelligence and consistency of garrick's interpretations, in the growing vigor and firmness of goldsmith's stroke, in the charm, finality, and exuberant life of sir joshua's portraits; and above all in the skill, truth, brilliance, and lifelike spontaneity of boswell's art. it is in such works as these that we shall find the real johnson, and through them that he will exert the force of his personality upon us. biography is the literature of realized personality, of life as it has been lived, of actual achievements or shortcomings, of success or failure; it is not imaginary and embellished, not what might be or might have been, not reduced to prescribed or artificial forms, but it is the unvarnished story of that which was delightful, disappointing, possible, or impossible, in a life spent in this world. in this sense it is peculiarly the literature of truth and authenticity. elements of imagination and speculation must enter into all other forms of literature, and as purely creative forms they may rank superior to biography; but in each case it will be found that their authenticity, their right to our attention and credence, ultimately rests upon the biographical element which is basic in them, that is, upon what they have derived by observation and experience from a human life seriously lived. biography contains this element in its purity. for this reason it is more authentic than other kinds of literature, and more relevant. the thing that most concerns me, the individual, whether i will or no, is the management of myself in this world. the fundamental and essential conditions of life are the same in any age, however the adventitious circumstances may change. the beginning and the end are the same, the average length the same, the problems and the prize the same. how, then, have others managed, both those who failed and those who succeeded, or those, in far greatest number, who did both? let me know their ambitions, their odds, their handicaps, obstacles, weaknesses, and struggles, how they finally fared, and what they had to say about it. let me know a great variety of such instances that i may mark their disagreements, but more especially their agreement about it. how did they play the game? how did they fight the fight that i am to fight, and how in any case did they lose or win? to these questions biography gives the direct answer. such is its importance over other literature. for such reasons, doubtless, johnson 'loved' it most. for such reasons the book which has been most cherished and revered for well-nigh two thousand years is a biography. biography, then, is the chief text-book in the art of living, and preeminent in its kind is the life of johnson. here is the instance of a man who was born into a life stripped of all ornament and artificiality. his equipment in mind and stature was olympian, but the odds against him were proportionate to his powers. without fear or complaint, without boast or noise, he fairly joined issue with the world and overcame it. he scorned circumstance, and laid bare the unvarying realities of the contest. he was ever the sworn enemy of speciousness, of nonsense, of idle and insincere speculation, of the mind that does not take seriously the duty of making itself up, of neglect in the gravest consideration of life. he insisted upon the rights and dignity of the individual man, and at the same time upon the vital necessity to him of reverence and submission, and no man ever more beautifully illustrated their interdependence, and their exquisite combination in a noble nature. boswell's johnson is consistently and primarily the life of one man. incidentally it is more, for through it one is carried from his own present limitations into a spacious and genial world. the reader there meets a vast number of people, men, women, children, nay even animals, from george the third down to the cat hodge. by the author's magic each is alive, and the reader mingles with them as with his acquaintances. it is a varied world, and includes the smoky and swarming courts and highways of london, its stately drawing-rooms, its cheerful inns, its shops and markets, and beyond is the highroad which we travel in lumbering coach or speeding postchaise to venerable oxford with its polite and leisurely dons, or to the staunch little cathedral city of lichfield, welcoming back its famous son to dinner and tea, or to the seat of a country squire, or ducal castle, or village tavern, or the grim but hospitable feudal life of the hebrides. and wherever we go with johnson there is the lively traffic in ideas, lending vitality and significance to everything about him. a part of education and culture is the extension of one's narrow range of living to include wider possibilities or actualities, such as may be gathered from other fields of thought, other times, other men; in short, to use a johnsonian phrase, it is 'multiplicity of consciousness.' there is no book more effective through long familiarity to such extension and such multiplication than boswell's life of johnson. it adds a new world to one's own, it increases one's acquaintance among people who think, it gives intimate companionship with a great and friendly man. the life of johnson is not a book on first acquaintance to be read through from the first page to the end. 'no, sir, do you read books through?' asked johnson. his way is probably the best one of undertaking this book. open at random, read here and there, forward and back, wholly according to inclination; follow the practice of johnson and all good readers, of 'tearing the heart' out of it. in this way you most readily come within the reach of its charm and power. then, not content with a part, seek the unabridged whole, and grow into the infinite possibilities of it. but the supreme end of education, we are told, is expert discernment in all things--the power to tell the good from the bad, the genuine from the counterfeit, and to prefer the good and the genuine to the bad and the counterfeit. this is the supreme end of the talk of socrates, and it is the supreme end of the talk of johnson. 'my dear friend,' said he, 'clear your mind of cant; . . . don't think foolishly.' the effect of long companionship with boswell's johnson is just this. as sir joshua said, 'it brushes away the rubbish'; it clears the mind of cant; it instills the habit of singling out the essential thing; it imparts discernment. thus, through his friendship with boswell, johnson will realize his wish, still to be teaching as the years increase. the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. had dr. johnson written his own life, in conformity with the opinion which he has given, that every man's life may be best written by himself; had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. but although he at different times, in a desultory manner, committed to writing many particulars of the progress of his mind and fortunes, he never had persevering diligence enough to form them into a regular composition. of these memorials a few have been preserved; but the greater part was consigned by him to the flames, a few days before his death. as i had the honour and happiness of enjoying his friendship for upwards of twenty years; as i had the scheme of writing his life constantly in view; as he was well apprised of this circumstance, and from time to time obligingly satisfied my inquiries, by communicating to me the incidents of his early years; as i acquired a facility in recollecting, and was very assiduous in recording, his conversation, of which the extraordinary vigour and vivacity constituted one of the first features of his character; and as i have spared no pains in obtaining materials concerning him, from every quarter where i could discover that they were to be found, and have been favoured with the most liberal communications by his friends; i flatter myself that few biographers have entered upon such a work as this, with more advantages; independent of literary abilities, in which i am not vain enough to compare myself with some great names who have gone before me in this kind of writing. instead of melting down my materials into one mass, and constantly speaking in my own person, by which i might have appeared to have more merit in the execution of the work, i have resolved to adopt and enlarge upon the excellent plan of mr. mason, in his memoirs of gray. wherever narrative is necessary to explain, connect, and supply, i furnish it to the best of my abilities; but in the chronological series of johnson's life, which i trace as distinctly as i can, year by year, i produce, wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters or conversation, being convinced that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers better acquainted with him, than even most of those were who actually knew him, but could know him only partially; whereas there is here an accumulation of intelligence from various points, by which his character is more fully understood and illustrated. indeed i cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing any man's life, than not only relating all the most important events of it in their order, but interweaving what he privately wrote, and said, and thought; by which mankind are enabled as it were to see him live, and to 'live o'er each scene' with him, as he actually advanced through the several stages of his life. had his other friends been as diligent and ardent as i was, he might have been almost entirely preserved. as it is, i will venture to say that he will be seen in this work more completely than any man who has ever yet lived. and he will be seen as he really was; for i profess to write, not his panegyrick, which must be all praise, but his life; which, great and good as he was, must not be supposed to be entirely perfect. to be as he was, is indeed subject of panegyrick enough to any man in this state of being; but in every picture there should be shade as well as light, and when i delineate him without reserve, i do what he himself recommended, both by his precept and his example. i am fully aware of the objections which may be made to the minuteness on some occasions of my detail of johnson's conversation, and how happily it is adapted for the petty exercise of ridicule, by men of superficial understanding and ludicrous fancy; but i remain firm and confident in my opinion, that minute particulars are frequently characteristick, and always amusing, when they relate to a distinguished man. i am therefore exceedingly unwilling that any thing, however slight, which my illustrious friend thought it worth his while to express, with any degree of point, should perish. of one thing i am certain, that considering how highly the small portion which we have of the table-talk and other anecdotes of our celebrated writers is valued, and how earnestly it is regretted that we have not more, i am justified in preserving rather too many of johnson's sayings, than too few; especially as from the diversity of dispositions it cannot be known with certainty beforehand, whether what may seem trifling to some, and perhaps to the collector himself, may not be most agreeable to many; and the greater number that an authour can please in any degree, the more pleasure does there arise to a benevolent mind. samuel johnson was born at lichfield, in staffordshire, on the th of september, n. s., ; and his initiation into the christian church was not delayed; for his baptism is recorded, in the register of st. mary's parish in that city, to have been performed on the day of his birth. his father is there stiled gentleman, a circumstance of which an ignorant panegyrist has praised him for not being proud; when the truth is, that the appellation of gentleman, though now lost in the indiscriminate assumption of esquire, was commonly taken by those who could not boast of gentility. his father was michael johnson, a native of derbyshire, of obscure extraction, who settled in lichfield as a bookseller and stationer. his mother was sarah ford, descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in warwickshire. they were well advanced in years when they married, and never had more than two children, both sons; samuel, their first born, who lived to be the illustrious character whose various excellence i am to endeavour to record, and nathanael, who died in his twenty-fifth year. mr. michael johnson was a man of a large and robust body, and of a strong and active mind; yet, as in the most solid rocks veins of unsound substance are often discovered, there was in him a mixture of that disease, the nature of which eludes the most minute enquiry, though the effects are well known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about those things which agitate the greater part of mankind, and a general sensation of gloomy wretchedness. from him then his son inherited, with some other qualities, 'a vile melancholy,' which in his too strong expression of any disturbance of the mind, 'made him mad all his life, at least not sober.' michael was, however, forced by the narrowness of his circumstances to be very diligent in business, not only in his shop, but by occasionally resorting to several towns in the neighbourhood, some of which were at a considerable distance from lichfield. at that time booksellers' shops in the provincial towns of england were very rare, so that there was not one even in birmingham, in which town old mr. johnson used to open a shop every market-day. he was a pretty good latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to be made one of the magistrates of lichfield; and, being a man of good sense, and skill in his trade, he acquired a reasonable share of wealth, of which however he afterwards lost the greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully in a manufacture of parchment. he was a zealous high-church man and royalist, and retained his attachment to the unfortunate house of stuart, though he reconciled himself, by casuistical arguments of expediency and necessity, to take the oaths imposed by the prevailing power. johnson's mother was a woman of distinguished understanding. i asked his old school-fellow, mr. hector, surgeon of birmingham, if she was not vain of her son. he said, 'she had too much good sense to be vain, but she knew her son's value.' her piety was not inferiour to her understanding; and to her must be ascribed those early impressions of religion upon the mind of her son, from which the world afterwards derived so much benefit. he told me, that he remembered distinctly having had the first notice of heaven, 'a place to which good people went,' and hell, 'a place to which bad people went,' communicated to him by her, when a little child in bed with her; and that it might be the better fixed in his memory, she sent him to repeat it to thomas jackson, their man-servant; he not being in the way, this was not done; but there was no occasion for any artificial aid for its preservation. there is a traditional story of the infant hercules of toryism, so curiously characteristick, that i shall not withhold it. it was communicated to me in a letter from miss mary adye, of lichfield: 'when dr. sacheverel was at lichfield, johnson was not quite three years old. my grandfather hammond observed him at the cathedral perched upon his father's shoulders, listening and gaping at the much celebrated preacher. mr. hammond asked mr. johnson how he could possibly think of bringing such an infant to church, and in the midst of so great a crowd. he answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home; for, young as he was, he believed he had caught the publick spirit and zeal for sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with beholding him.' nor can i omit a little instance of that jealous independence of spirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never forsook him. the fact was acknowledged to me by himself, upon the authority of his mother. one day, when the servant who used to be sent to school to conduct him home, had not come in time, he set out by himself, though he was then so near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on his hands and knees to take a view of the kennel before he ventured to step over it. his school-mistress, afraid that he might miss his way, or fall into the kennel, or be run over by a cart, followed him at some distance. he happened to turn about and perceive her. feeling her careful attention as an insult to his manliness, he ran back to her in a rage, and beat her, as well as his strength would permit. of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life eminent to a degree almost incredible, the following early instance was told me in his presence at lichfield, in , by his step-daughter, mrs. lucy porter, as related to her by his mother. when he was a child in petticoats, and had learnt to read, mrs. johnson one morning put the common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day, and said, 'sam, you must get this by heart.' she went up stairs, leaving him to study it: but by the time she had reached the second floor, she heard him following her. 'what's the matter?' said she. 'i can say it,' he replied; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it more than twice. but there has been another story of his infant precocity generally circulated, and generally believed, the truth of which i am to refute upon his own authority. it is told, that, when a child of three years old, he chanced to tread upon a duckling, the eleventh of a brood, and killed it; upon which, it is said, he dictated to his mother the following epitaph: 'here lies good master duck, whom samuel johnson trod on; if it had liv'd, it had been good luck, for then we'd had an odd one.' there is surely internal evidence that this little composition combines in it, what no child of three years old could produce, without an extension of its faculties by immediate inspiration; yet mrs. lucy porter, dr. johnson's stepdaughter, positively maintained to me, in his presence, that there could be no doubt of the truth of this anecdote, for she had heard it from his mother. so difficult is it to obtain an authentick relation of facts, and such authority may there be for errour; for he assured me, that his father made the verses, and wished to pass them for his child's. he added, 'my father was a foolish old man; that is to say, foolish in talking of his children.' young johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the scrophula, or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well formed, and hurt his visual nerves so much, that he did not see at all with one of his eyes, though its appearance was little different from that of the other. there is amongst his prayers, one inscribed 'when, my eye was restored to its use,' which ascertains a defect that many of his friends knew he had, though i never perceived it. i supposed him to be only near-sighted; and indeed i must observe, that in no other respect could i discern any defect in his vision; on the contrary, the force of his attention and perceptive quickness made him see and distinguish all manner of objects, whether of nature or of art, with a nicety that is rarely to be found. when he and i were travelling in the highlands of scotland, and i pointed out to him a mountain which i observed resembled a cone, he corrected my inaccuracy, by shewing me, that it was indeed pointed at the top, but that one side of it was larger than the other. and the ladies with whom he was acquainted agree, that no man was more nicely and minutely critical in the elegance of female dress. when i found that he saw the romantick beauties of islam, in derbyshire, much better than i did, i told him that he resembled an able performer upon a bad instrument. it has been said, that he contracted this grievous malady from his nurse. his mother yielding to the superstitious notion, which, it is wonderful to think, prevailed so long in this country, as to the virtue of the regal touch; a notion, which our kings encouraged, and to which a man of such inquiry and such judgement as carte could give credit; carried him to london, where he was actually touched by queen anne. mrs. johnson indeed, as mr. hector informed me, acted by the advice of the celebrated sir john floyer, then a physician in lichfield. johnson used to talk of this very frankly; and mrs. piozzi has preserved his very picturesque description of the scene, as it remained upon his fancy. being asked if he could remember queen anne, 'he had (he said) a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood.' this touch, however, was without any effect. i ventured to say to him, in allusion to the political principles in which he was educated, and of which he ever retained some odour, that 'his mother had not carried him far enough; she should have taken him to rome.' he was first taught to read english by dame oliver, a widow, who kept a school for young children in lichfield. he told me she could read the black letter, and asked him to borrow for her, from his father, a bible in that character. when he was going to oxford, she came to take leave of him, brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present of gingerbread, and said, he was the best scholar she ever had. he delighted in mentioning this early compliment: adding, with a smile, that 'this was as high a proof of his merit as he could conceive.' his next instructor in english was a master, whom, when he spoke of him to me, he familiarly called tom brown, who, said he, 'published a spelling-book, and dedicated it to the universe; but, i fear, no copy of it can now be had.' he began to learn latin with mr. hawkins, usher, or under-master of lichfield school, 'a man (said he) very skilful in his little way.' with him he continued two years, and then rose to be under the care of mr. hunter, the headmaster, who, according to his account, 'was very severe, and wrong-headedly severe. he used (said he) to beat us unmercifully; and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence; for he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. he would ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it, he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of knowing how to answer it. for instance, he would call up a boy and ask him latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked. now, sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need of a master to teach him.' it is, however, but justice to the memory of mr. hunter to mention, that though he might err in being too severe, the school of lichfield was very respectable in his time. the late dr. taylor, prebendary of westminster, who was educated under him, told me, that 'he was an excellent master, and that his ushers were most of them men of eminence; that holbrook, one of the most ingenious men, best scholars, and best preachers of his age, was usher during the greatest part of the time that johnson was at school. then came hague, of whom as much might be said, with the addition that he was an elegant poet. hague was succeeded by green, afterwards bishop of lincoln, whose character in the learned world is well known.' indeed johnson was very sensible how much he owed to mr. hunter. mr. langton one day asked him how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of latin, in which, i believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time; he said, 'my master whipt me very well. without that, sir, i should have done nothing.' he told mr. langton, that while hunter was flogging his boys unmercifully, he used to say, 'and this i do to save you from the gallows.' johnson, upon all occasions, expressed his approbation of enforcing instruction by means of the rod. 'i would rather (said he) have the rod to be the general terrour to all, to make them learn, than tell a child, if you do thus, or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. the rod produces an effect which terminates in itself. a child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation and comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make brothers and sisters hate each other.' that superiority over his fellows, which he maintained with so much dignity in his march through life, was not assumed from vanity and ostentation, but was the natural and constant effect of those extraordinary powers of mind, of which he could not but be conscious by comparison; the intellectual difference, which in other cases of comparison of characters, is often a matter of undecided contest, being as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men above others. johnson did not strut or stand on tiptoe; he only did not stoop. from his earliest years his superiority was perceived and acknowledged. he was from the beginning [greek text omitted], a king of men. his school-fellow, mr. hector, has obligingly furnished me with many particulars of his boyish days: and assured me that he never knew him corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys from their business. he seemed to learn by intuition; for though indolence and procrastination were inherent in his constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more than any one else. his favourites used to receive very liberal assistance from him; and such was the submission and deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom mr. hector was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his humble attendants, and carry him to school. one in the middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one on each side supported him; and thus he was borne triumphant. such a proof of the early predominance of intellectual vigour is very remarkable, and does honour to human nature. talking to me once himself of his being much distinguished at school, he told me, 'they never thought to raise me by comparing me to any one; they never said, johnson is as good a scholar as such a one; but such a one is as good a scholar as johnson; and this was said but of one, but of lowe; and i do not think he was as good a scholar.' he discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused him to counteract his indolence. he was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never forgot any thing that he either heard or read. mr. hector remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after a little pause, he repeated verbatim, varying only one epithet, by which he improved the line. he never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions: his only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him; no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. his defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports; and he once pleasantly remarked to me, 'how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle without them.' mr. hector relates, that 'he could not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged in talking to himself than to his companion.' dr. percy, the bishop of dromore, who was long intimately acquainted with him, and has preserved a few anecdotes concerning him, regretting that he was not a more diligent collector, informs me, that 'when a boy he was immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he retained his fondness for them through life; so that (adds his lordship) spending part of a summer at my parsonage house in the country, he chose for his regular reading the old spanish romance of felixmarte of hircania, in folio, which he read quite through. yet i have heard him attribute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn of mind which prevented his ever fixing in any profession.' : aetat. .--after having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, cornelius ford, johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school of stourbridge, in worcestershire, of which mr. wentworth was then master. this step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the reverend mr. ford, a man in whom both talents and good dispositions were disgraced by licentiousness, but who was a very able judge of what was right. at this school he did not receive so much benefit as was expected. it has been said, that he acted in the capacity of an assistant to mr. wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. 'mr. wentworth (he told me) was a very able man, but an idle man, and to me very severe; but i cannot blame him much. i was then a big boy; he saw i did not reverence him; and that he should get no honour by me. i had brought enough with me, to carry me through; and all i should get at his school would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former master. yet he taught me a great deal.' he thus discriminated, to dr. percy, bishop of dromore, his progress at his two grammar-schools. 'at one, i learnt much in the school, but little from the master; in the other, i learnt much from the master, but little in the school.' he remained at stourbridge little more than a year, and then returned home, where he may be said to have loitered, for two years, in a state very unworthy his uncommon abilities. he had already given several proofs of his poetical genius, both in his school-exercises and in other occasional compositions. he had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely lived from day to day. yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed him through them. he used to mention one curious instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. having imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. there were no apples; but the large folio proved to be petrarch, whom he had seen mentioned in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. his curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avidity, and read a great part of the book. what he read during these two years he told me, was not works of mere amusement, 'not voyages and travels, but all literature, sir, all ancient writers, all manly: though but little greek, only some of anacreon and hesiod; but in this irregular manner (added he) i had looked into a great many books, which were not commonly known at the universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their hands by their tutors; so that when i came to oxford, dr. adams, now master of pembroke college, told me i was the best qualified for the university that he had ever known come there.' that a man in mr. michael johnson's circumstances should think of sending his son to the expensive university of oxford, at his own charge, seems very improbable. the subject was too delicate to question johnson upon. but i have been assured by dr. taylor that the scheme never would have taken place had not a gentleman of shropshire, one of his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to support him at oxford, in the character of his companion; though, in fact, he never received any assistance whatever from that gentleman. he, however, went to oxford, and was entered a commoner of pembroke college on the st of october, , being then in his nineteenth year. the reverend dr. adams, who afterwards presided over pembroke college with universal esteem, told me he was present, and gave me some account of what passed on the night of johnson's arrival at oxford. on that evening, his father, who had anxiously accompanied him, found means to have him introduced to mr. jorden, who was to be his tutor. his father seemed very full of the merits of his son, and told the company he was a good scholar, and a poet, and wrote latin verses. his figure and manner appeared strange to them; but he behaved modestly, and sat silent, till upon something which occurred in the course of conversation, he suddenly struck in and quoted macrobius; and thus he gave the first impression of that more extensive reading in which he had indulged himself. his tutor, mr. jorden, fellow of pembroke, was not, it seems, a man of such abilities as we should conceive requisite for the instructor of samuel johnson, who gave me the following account of him. 'he was a very worthy man, but a heavy man, and i did not profit much by his instructions. indeed, i did not attend him much. the first day after i came to college i waited upon him, and then staid away four. on the sixth, mr. jorden asked me why i had not attended. i answered i had been sliding in christ-church meadow. and this i said with as much nonchalance as i am now talking to you. i had no notion that i was wrong or irreverent to my tutor. boswell: 'that, sir, was great fortitude of mind.' johnson: 'no, sir; stark insensibility.' he had a love and respect for jorden, not for his literature, but for his worth. 'whenever (said he) a young man becomes jorden's pupil, he becomes his son.' having given a specimen of his poetical powers, he was asked by mr. jorden, to translate pope's messiah into latin verse, as a christmas exercise. he performed it with uncommon rapidity, and in so masterly a manner, that he obtained great applause from it, which ever after kept him high in the estimation of his college, and, indeed, of all the university. it is said, that mr. pope expressed himself concerning it in terms of strong approbation. dr. taylor told me, that it was first printed for old mr. johnson, without the knowledge of his son, who was very angry when he heard of it. the 'morbid melancholy,' which was lurking in his constitution, and to which we may ascribe those particularities, and that aversion to regular life, which, at a very early period, marked his character, gathered such strength in his twentieth year, as to afflict him in a dreadful manner. while he was at lichfield, in the college vacation of the year , he felt himself overwhelmed with an horrible hypochondria, with perpetual irritation, fretfulness, and impatience; and with a dejection, gloom, and despair, which made existence misery. from this dismal malady he never afterwards was perfectly relieved; and all his labours, and all his enjoyments, were but temporary interruptions of its baleful influence. he told mr. paradise that he was sometimes so languid and inefficient, that he could not distinguish the hour upon the town-clock. johnson, upon the first violent attack of this disorder, strove to overcome it by forcible exertions. he frequently walked to birmingham and back again, and tried many other expedients, but all in vain. his expression concerning it to me was 'i did not then know how to manage it.' his distress became so intolerable, that he applied to dr. swinfen, physician in lichfield, his god-father, and put into his hands a state of his case, written in latin. dr. swinfen was so much struck with the extraordinary acuteness, research, and eloquence of this paper, that in his zeal for his godson he shewed it to several people. his daughter, mrs. desmoulins, who was many years humanely supported in dr. johnson's house in london, told me, that upon his discovering that dr. swinfen had communicated his case, he was so much offended, that he was never afterwards fully reconciled to him. he indeed had good reason to be offended; for though dr. swinfen's motive was good, he inconsiderately betrayed a matter deeply interesting and of great delicacy, which had been entrusted to him in confidence; and exposed a complaint of his young friend and patient, which, in the superficial opinion of the generality of mankind, is attended with contempt and disgrace. to johnson, whose supreme enjoyment was the exercise of his reason, the disturbance or obscuration of that faculty was the evil most to be dreaded. insanity, therefore, was the object of his most dismal apprehension; and he fancied himself seized by it, or approaching to it, at the very time when he was giving proofs of a more than ordinary soundness and vigour of judgement. that his own diseased imagination should have so far deceived him, is strange; but it is stranger still that some of his friends should have given credit to his groundless opinion, when they had such undoubted proofs that it was totally fallacious; though it is by no means surprising that those who wish to depreciate him, should, since his death, have laid hold of this circumstance, and insisted upon it with very unfair aggravation. the history of his mind as to religion is an important article. i have mentioned the early impressions made upon his tender imagination by his mother, who continued her pious care with assiduity, but, in his opinion, not with judgement. 'sunday (said he) was a heavy day to me when i was a boy. my mother confined me on that day, and made me read "the whole duty of man," from a great part of which i could derive no instruction. when, for instance, i had read the chapter on theft, which from my infancy i had been taught was wrong, i was no more convinced that theft was wrong than before; so there was no accession of knowledge. a boy should be introduced to such books, by having his attention directed to the arrangement, to the style, and other excellencies of composition; that the mind being thus engaged by an amusing variety of objects, may not grow weary.' he communicated to me the following particulars upon the subject of his religious progress. 'i fell into an inattention to religion, or an indifference about it, in my ninth year. the church at lichfield, in which we had a seat, wanted reparation, so i was to go and find a seat in other churches; and having bad eyes, and being awkward about this, i used to go and read in the fields on sunday. this habit continued till my fourteenth year; and still i find a great reluctance to go to church. i then became a sort of lax talker against religion, for i did not much think against it; and this lasted till i went to oxford, where it would not be suffered. when at oxford, i took up law's serious call to a holy life, expecting to find it a dull book (as such books generally are), and perhaps to laugh at it. but i found law quite an overmatch for me; and this was the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of religion, after i became capable of rational inquiry.' from this time forward religion was the predominant object of his thoughts; though, with the just sentiments of a conscientious christian, he lamented that his practice of its duties fell far short of what it ought to be. the particular course of his reading while at oxford, and during the time of vacation which he passed at home, cannot be traced. enough has been said of his irregular mode of study. he told me that from his earliest years he loved to read poetry, but hardly ever read any poem to an end; that he read shakspeare at a period so early, that the speech of the ghost in hamlet terrified him when he was alone; that horace's odes were the compositions in which he took most delight, and it was long before he liked his epistles and satires. he told me what he read solidly at oxford was greek; not the grecian historians, but homer and euripides, and now and then a little epigram; that the study of which he was the most fond was metaphysicks, but he had not read much, even in that way. i always thought that he did himself injustice in his account of what he had read, and that he must have been speaking with reference to the vast portion of study which is possible, and to which a few scholars in the whole history of literature have attained; for when i once asked him whether a person, whose name i have now forgotten, studied hard, he answered 'no, sir; i do not believe he studied hard. i never knew a man who studied hard. i conclude, indeed, from the effects, that some men have studied hard, as bentley and clarke.' trying him by that criterion upon which he formed his judgement of others, we may be absolutely certain, both from his writings and his conversation, that his reading was very extensive. dr. adam smith, than whom few were better judges on this subject, once observed to me that 'johnson knew more books than any man alive.' he had a peculiar facility in seizing at once what was valuable in any book, without submitting to the labour of perusing it from beginning to end. he had, from the irritability of his constitution, at all times, an impatience and hurry when he either read or wrote. a certain apprehension, arising from novelty, made him write his first exercise at college twice over; but he never took that trouble with any other composition; and we shall see that his most excellent works were struck off at a heat, with rapid exertion. no man had a more ardent love of literature, or a higher respect for it than johnson. his apartment in pembroke college was that upon the second floor, over the gateway. the enthusiasts of learning will ever contemplate it with veneration. one day, while he was sitting in it quite alone, dr. panting, then master of the college, whom he called 'a fine jacobite fellow,' overheard him uttering this soliloquy in his strong, emphatick voice: 'well, i have a mind to see what is done in other places of learning. i'll go and visit the universities abroad. i'll go to france and italy. i'll go to padua.--and i'll mind my business. for an athenian blockhead is the worst of all blockheads.' dr. adams told me that johnson, while he was at pembroke college, 'was caressed and loved by all about him, was a gay and frolicksome fellow, and passed there the happiest part of his life.' but this is a striking proof of the fallacy of appearances, and how little any of us know of the real internal state even of those whom we see most frequently; for the truth is, that he was then depressed by poverty, and irritated by disease. when i mentioned to him this account as given me by dr. adams, he said; 'ah, sir, i was mad and violent. it was bitterness which they mistook for frolick. i was miserably poor, and i thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so i disregarded all power and all authority.' the bishop of dromore observes in a letter to me, 'the pleasure he took in vexing the tutors and fellows has been often mentioned. but i have heard him say, what ought to be recorded to the honour of the present venerable master of that college, the reverend william adams, d.d., who was then very young, and one of the junior fellows; that the mild but judicious expostulations of this worthy man, whose virtue awed him, and whose learning he revered, made him really ashamed of himself, "though i fear (said he) i was too proud to own it." 'i have heard from some of his cotemporaries that he was generally seen lounging at the college gate, with a circle of young students round him, whom he was entertaining with wit, and keeping from their studies, if not spiriting them up to rebellion against the college discipline, which in his maturer years he so much extolled.' i do not find that he formed any close intimacies with his fellow-collegians. but dr. adams told me that he contracted a love and regard for pembroke college, which he retained to the last. a short time before his death he sent to that college a present of all his works, to be deposited in their library; and he had thoughts of leaving to it his house at lichfield; but his friends who were about him very properly dissuaded him from it, and he bequeathed it to some poor relations. he took a pleasure in boasting of the many eminent men who had been educated at pembroke. in this list are found the names of mr. hawkins the poetry professor, mr. shenstone, sir william blackstone, and others; not forgetting the celebrated popular preacher, mr. george whitefield, of whom, though dr. johnson did not think very highly, it must be acknowledged that his eloquence was powerful, his views pious and charitable, his assiduity almost incredible; and, that since his death, the integrity of his character has been fully vindicated. being himself a poet, johnson was peculiarly happy in mentioning how many of the sons of pembroke were poets; adding, with a smile of sportive triumph, 'sir, we are a nest of singing birds.' he was not, however, blind to what he thought the defects of his own college; and i have, from the information of dr. taylor, a very strong instance of that rigid honesty which he ever inflexibly preserved. taylor had obtained his father's consent to be entered of pembroke, that he might be with his schoolfellow johnson, with whom, though some years older than himself, he was very intimate. this would have been a great comfort to johnson. but he fairly told taylor that he could not, in conscience, suffer him to enter where he knew he could not have an able tutor. he then made inquiry all round the university, and having found that mr. bateman, of christ church, was the tutor of highest reputation, taylor was entered of that college. mr. bateman's lectures were so excellent, that johnson used to come and get them at second-hand from taylor, till his poverty being so extreme that his shoes were worn out, and his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliating circumstance was perceived by the christ church men, and he came no more. he was too proud to accept of money, and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation. how must we feel when we read such an anecdote of samuel johnson! the res angusta domi prevented him from having the advantage of a complete academical education. the friend to whom he had trusted for support had deceived him. his debts in college, though not great, were increasing; and his scanty remittances from lichfield, which had all along been made with great difficulty, could be supplied no longer, his father having fallen into a state of insolvency. compelled, therefore, by irresistible necessity, he left the college in autumn, , without a degree, having been a member of it little more than three years. and now (i had almost said poor) samuel johnson returned to his native city, destitute, and not knowing how he should gain even a decent livelihood. his father's misfortunes in trade rendered him unable to support his son; and for some time there appeared no means by which he could maintain himself. in the december of this year his father died. johnson was so far fortunate, that the respectable character of his parents, and his own merit, had, from his earliest years, secured him a kind reception in the best families at lichfield. among these i can mention mr. howard, dr. swinfen, mr. simpson, mr. levett, captain garrick, father of the great ornament of the british stage; but above all, mr. gilbert walmsley, register of the prerogative court of lichfield, whose character, long after his decease, dr. johnson has, in his life of edmund smith, thus drawn in the glowing colours of gratitude: 'of gilbert walmsley, thus presented to my mind, let me indulge myself in the remembrance. i knew him very early; he was one of the first friends that literature procured me, and i hope that, at least, my gratitude made me worthy of his notice. 'he was of an advanced age, and i was only not a boy, yet he never received my notions with contempt. he was a whig, with all the virulence and malevolence of his party; yet difference of opinion did not keep us apart. i honoured him and he endured me. 'at this man's table i enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours, with companions, such as are not often found--with one who has lengthened, and one who has gladdened life; with dr. james, whose skill in physick will be long remembered; and with david garrick, whom i hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. but what are the hopes of man! i am disappointed by that stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the publick stock of harmless pleasure.' in these families he passed much time in his early years. in most of them, he was in the company of ladies, particularly at mr. walmsley's, whose wife and sisters-in-law, of the name of aston, and daughters of a baronet, were remarkable for good breeding; so that the notion which has been industriously circulated and believed, that he never was in good company till late in life, and, consequently had been confirmed in coarse and ferocious manners by long habits, is wholly without foundation. some of the ladies have assured me, they recollected him well when a young man, as distinguished for his complaisance. in the forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted of an offer to be employed as usher in the school of market-bosworth, in leicestershire, to which it appears, from one of his little fragments of a diary, that he went on foot, on the th of july. this employment was very irksome to him in every respect, and he complained grievously of it in his letters to his friend mr. hector, who was now settled as a surgeon at birmingham. the letters are lost; but mr. hector recollects his writing 'that the poet had described the dull sameness of his existence in these words, "vitam continet una dies" (one day contains the whole of my life); that it was unvaried as the note of the cuckow; and that he did not know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or the boys to learn, the grammar rules.' his general aversion to this painful drudgery was greatly enhanced by a disagreement between him and sir wolstan dixey, the patron of the school, in whose house, i have been told, he officiated as a kind of domestick chaplain, so far, at least, as to say grace at table, but was treated with what he represented as intolerable harshness; and, after suffering for a few months such complicated misery, he relinquished a situation which all his life afterwards he recollected with the strongest aversion, and even a degree of horrour. but it is probable that at this period, whatever uneasiness he may have endured, he laid the foundation of much future eminence by application to his studies. being now again totally unoccupied, he was invited by mr. hector to pass some time with him at birmingham, as his guest, at the house of mr. warren, with whom mr. hector lodged and boarded. mr. warren was the first established bookseller in birmingham, and was very attentive to johnson, who he soon found could be of much service to him in his trade, by his knowledge of literature; and he even obtained the assistance of his pen in furnishing some numbers of a periodical essay printed in the newspaper, of which warren was proprietor. after very diligent inquiry, i have not been able to recover those early specimens of that particular mode of writing by which johnson afterwards so greatly distinguished himself. he continued to live as mr. hector's guest for about six months, and then hired lodgings in another part of the town, finding himself as well situated at birmingham as he supposed he could be any where, while he had no settled plan of life, and very scanty means of subsistence. he made some valuable acquaintances there, amongst whom were mr. porter, a mercer, whose widow he afterwards married, and mr. taylor, who by his ingenuity in mechanical inventions, and his success in trade, acquired an immense fortune. but the comfort of being near mr. hector, his old school-fellow and intimate friend, was johnson's chief inducement to continue here. his juvenile attachments to the fair sex were very transient; and it is certain that he formed no criminal connection whatsoever. mr. hector, who lived with him in his younger days in the utmost intimacy and social freedom, has assured me, that even at that ardent season his conduct was strictly virtuous in that respect; and that though he loved to exhilarate himself with wine, he never knew him intoxicated but once. in a man whom religious education has secured from licentious indulgences, the passion of love, when once it has seized him, is exceedingly strong; being unimpaired by dissipation, and totally concentrated in one object. this was experienced by johnson, when he became the fervent admirer of mrs. porter, after her first husband's death. miss porter told me, that when he was first introduced to her mother, his appearance was very forbidding: he was then lean and lank, so that his immense structure of bones was hideously striking to the eye, and the scars of the scrophula were deeply visible. he also wore his hair, which was straight and stiff, and separated behind: and he often had, seemingly, convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which tended to excite at once surprize and ridicule. mrs. porter was so much engaged by his conversation that she overlooked all these external disadvantages, and said to her daughter, 'this is the most sensible man that i ever saw in my life.' though mrs. porter was double the age of johnson, and her person and manner, as described to me by the late mr. garrick, were by no means pleasing to others, she must have had a superiority of understanding and talents, as she certainly inspired him with a more than ordinary passion; and she having signified her willingness to accept of his hand, he went to lichfield to ask his mother's consent to the marriage, which he could not but be conscious was a very imprudent scheme, both on account of their disparity of years, and her want of fortune. but mrs. johnson knew too well the ardour of her son's temper, and was too tender a parent to oppose his inclinations. i know not for what reason the marriage ceremony was not performed at birmingham; but a resolution was taken that it should be at derby, for which place the bride and bridegroom set out on horseback, i suppose in very good humour. but though mr. topham beauclerk used archly to mention johnson's having told him, with much gravity, 'sir, it was a love marriage on both sides,' i have had from my illustrious friend the following curious account of their journey to church upon the nuptial morn: th july:--'sir, she had read the old romances, and had got into her head the fantastical notion that a woman of spirit should use her lover like a dog. so, sir, at first she told me that i rode too fast, and she could not keep up with me; and, when i rode a little slower, she passed me, and complained that i lagged behind. i was not to be made the slave of caprice; and i resolved to begin as i meant to end. i therefore pushed on briskly, till i was fairly out of her sight. the road lay between two hedges, so i was sure she could not miss it; and i contrived that she should soon come up with me. when she did, i observed her to be in tears.' this, it must be allowed, was a singular beginning of connubial felicity; but there is no doubt that johnson, though he thus shewed a manly firmness, proved a most affectionate and indulgent husband to the last moment of mrs. johnson's life: and in his prayers and meditations, we find very remarkable evidence that his regard and fondness for her never ceased, even after her death. he now set up a private academy, for which purpose he hired a large house, well situated near his native city. in the gentleman's magazine for , there is the following advertisement: 'at edial, near lichfield, in staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded and taught the latin and greek languages, by samuel johnson.' but the only pupils that were put under his care were the celebrated david garrick and his brother george, and a mr. offely, a young gentleman of good fortune who died early. the truth is, that he was not so well qualified for being a teacher of elements, and a conductor in learning by regular gradations, as men of inferiour powers of mind. his own acquisitions had been made by fits and starts, by violent irruptions into the regions of knowledge; and it could not be expected that his impatience would be subdued, and his impetuosity restrained, so as to fit him for a quiet guide to novices. johnson was not more satisfied with his situation as the master of an academy, than with that of the usher of a school; we need not wonder, therefore, that he did not keep his academy above a year and a half. from mr. garrick's account he did not appear to have been profoundly reverenced by his pupils. his oddities of manner, and uncouth gesticulations, could not but be the subject of merriment to them; and, in particular, the young rogues used to listen at the door of his bed-chamber, and peep through the key-hole, that they might turn into ridicule his tumultuous and awkward fondness for mrs. johnson, whom he used to name by the familiar appellation of tetty or tetsey, which, like betty or betsey, is provincially used as a contraction for elisabeth, her christian name, but which to us seems ludicrous, when applied to a woman of her age and appearance. mr. garrick described her to me as very fat, with a bosom of more than ordinary protuberance, with swelled cheeks of a florid red, produced by thick painting, and increased by the liberal use of cordials; flaring and fantastick in her dress, and affected both in her speech and her general behaviour. i have seen garrick exhibit her, by his exquisite talent of mimickry, so as to excite the heartiest bursts of laughter; but he, probably, as is the case in all such representations, considerably aggravated the picture. johnson now thought of trying his fortune in london, the great field of genius and exertion, where talents of every kind have the fullest scope, and the highest encouragement. it is a memorable circumstance that his pupil david garrick went thither at the same time,* with intention to complete his education, and follow the profession of the law, from which he was soon diverted by his decided preference for the stage. * both of them used to talk pleasantly of this their first journey to london. garrick, evidently meaning to embellish a little, said one day in my hearing, 'we rode and tied.' and the bishop of killaloe informed me, that at another time, when johnson and garrick were dining together in a pretty large company, johnson humorously ascertaining the chronology of something, expressed himself thus: 'that was the year when i came to london with two-pence half-penny in my pocket.' garrick overhearing him, exclaimed, 'eh? what do you say? with two-pence half-penny in your pocket?'-- johnson, 'why yes; when i came with two-pence half-penny in my pocket, and thou, davy, with three half-pence in thine.' --boswell. they were recommended to mr. colson, an eminent mathematician and master of an academy, by the following letter from mr. walmsley: 'to the reverend mr. colson. 'lichfield, march , . 'dear sir, i had the favour of yours, and am extremely obliged to you; but i cannot say i had a greater affection for you upon it than i had before, being long since so much endeared to you, as well by an early friendship, as by your many excellent and valuable qualifications; and, had i a son of my own, it would be my ambition, instead of sending him to the university, to dispose of him as this young gentleman is. 'he, and another neighbour of mine, one mr. samuel johnson, set out this morning for london together. davy garrick is to be with you early the next week, and mr. johnson to try his fate with a tragedy, and to see to get himself employed in some translation, either from the latin or the french. johnson is a very good scholar and poet, and i have great hopes will turn out a fine tragedy-writer. if it should any way lie in your way, doubt not but you would be ready to recommend and assist your countryman. 'g. walmsley.' how he employed himself upon his first coming to london is not particularly known.' * one curious anecdote was communicated by himself to mr. john nichols. mr. wilcox, the bookseller, on being informed by him that his intention was to get his livelihood as an authour, eyed his robust frame attentively, and with a significant look, said, 'you had better buy a porter's knot.' he however added, 'wilcox was one of my best friends.'--boswell. he had a little money when he came to town, and he knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. his first lodgings were at the house of mr. norris, a staymaker, in exeter-street, adjoining catharine-street, in the strand. 'i dined (said he) very well for eight-pence, with very good company, at the pine apple in new-street, just by. several of them had travelled. they expected to meet every day; but did not know one another's names. it used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but i had a cut of meat for six-pence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny; so that i was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing.' he at this time, i believe, abstained entirely from fermented liquors: a practice to which he rigidly conformed for many years together, at different periods of his life. his ofellus in the art of living in london, i have heard him relate, was an irish painter, whom he knew at birmingham, and who had practised his own precepts of oeconomy for several years in the british capital. he assured johnson, who, i suppose, was then meditating to try his fortune in london, but was apprehensive of the expence, 'that thirty pounds a year was enough to enable a man to live there without being contemptible. he allowed ten pounds for clothes and linen. he said a man might live in a garret at eighteen-pence a week; few people would inquire where he lodged; and if they did, it was easy to say, "sir, i am to be found at such a place." by spending three-pence in a coffeehouse, he might be for some hours every day in very good company; he might dine for six-pence, breakfast on bread and milk for a penny, and do without supper. on clean-shirt-day he went abroad, and paid visits.' i have heard him more than once talk of this frugal friend, whom he recollected with esteem and kindness, and did not like to have one smile at the recital. 'this man (said he, gravely) was a very sensible man, who perfectly understood common affairs: a man of a great deal of knowledge of the world, fresh from life, not strained through books. he amused himself, i remember, by computing how much more expence was absolutely necessary to live upon the same scale with that which his friend described, when the value of money was diminished by the progress of commerce. it may be estimated that double the money might now with difficulty be sufficient.' amidst this cold obscurity, there was one brilliant circumstance to cheer him; he was well acquainted with mr. henry hervey, one of the branches of the noble family of that name, who had been quartered at lichfield as an officer of the army, and had at this time a house in london, where johnson was frequently entertained, and had an opportunity of meeting genteel company. not very long before his death, he mentioned this, among other particulars of his life, which he was kindly communicating to me; and he described this early friend, 'harry hervey,' thus: 'he was a vicious man, but very kind to me. if you call a dog hervey, i shall love him.' he told me he had now written only three acts of his irene, and that he retired for some time to lodgings at greenwich, where he proceeded in it somewhat further, and used to compose, walking in the park; but did not stay long enough at that place to finish it. in the course of the summer he returned to lichfield, where he had left mrs. johnson, and there he at last finished his tragedy, which was not executed with his rapidity of composition upon other occasions, but was slowly and painfully elaborated. a few days before his death, while burning a great mass of papers, he picked out from among them the original unformed sketch of this tragedy, in his own hand-writing, and gave it to mr. langton, by whose favour a copy of it is now in my possession. johnson's residence at lichfield, on his return to it at this time, was only for three months; and as he had as yet seen but a small part of the wonders of the metropolis, he had little to tell his townsmen. he related to me the following minute anecdote of this period: 'in the last age, when my mother lived in london, there were two sets of people, those who gave the wall, and those who took it; the peaceable and the quarrelsome. when i returned to lichfield, after having been in london, my mother asked me, whether i was one of those who gave the wall, or those who took it. now it is fixed that every man keeps to the right; or, if one is taking the wall, another yields it; and it is never a dispute.' he now removed to london with mrs. johnson; but her daughter, who had lived with them at edial, was left with her relations in the country. his lodgings were for some time in woodstock-street, near hanover-square, and afterwards in castle-street, near cavendish-square. his tragedy being by this time, as he thought, completely finished and fit for the stage, he was very desirous that it should be brought forward. mr. peter garrick told me, that johnson and he went together to the fountain tavern, and read it over, and that he afterwards solicited mr. fleetwood, the patentee of drury-lane theatre, to have it acted at his house; but mr. fleetwood would not accept it, probably because it was not patronized by some man of high rank; and it was not acted till , when his friend david garrick was manager of that theatre. the gentleman's magazine, begun and carried on by mr. edward cave, under the name of sylvanus urban, had attracted the notice and esteem of johnson, in an eminent degree, before he came to london as an adventurer in literature. he told me, that when he first saw st. john's gate, the place where that deservedly popular miscellany was originally printed, he 'beheld it with reverence.' it appears that he was now enlisted by mr. cave as a regular coadjutor in his magazine, by which he probably obtained a tolerable livelihood. at what time, or by what means, he had acquired a competent knowledge both of french and italian, i do not know; but he was so well skilled in them, as to be sufficiently qualified for a translator. that part of his labour which consisted in emendation and improvement of the productions of other contributors, like that employed in levelling ground, can be perceived only by those who had an opportunity of comparing the original with the altered copy. what we certainly know to have been done by him in this way, was the debates in both houses of parliament, under the name of 'the senate of lilliput,' sometimes with feigned denominations of the several speakers, sometimes with denominations formed of the letters of their real names, in the manner of what is called anagram, so that they might easily be decyphered. parliament then kept the press in a kind of mysterious awe, which made it necessary to have recourse to such devices. in our time it has acquired an unrestrained freedom, so that the people in all parts of the kingdom have a fair, open, and exact report of the actual proceedings of their representatives and legislators, which in our constitution is highly to be valued; though, unquestionably, there has of late been too much reason to complain of the petulance with which obscure scribblers have presumed to treat men of the most respectable character and situation. this important article of the gentlemen's magazine was, for several years, executed by mr. william guthrie, a man who deserves to be respectably recorded in the literary annals of this country. the debates in parliament, which were brought home and digested by guthrie, whose memory, though surpassed by others who have since followed him in the same department, was yet very quick and tenacious, were sent by cave to johnson for his revision; and, after some time, when guthrie had attained to greater variety of employment, and the speeches were more and more enriched by the accession of johnson's genius, it was resolved that he should do the whole himself, from the scanty notes furnished by persons employed to attend in both houses of parliament. sometimes, however, as he himself told me, he had nothing more communicated to him than the names of the several speakers, and the part which they had taken in the debate.* * johnson later told boswell that 'as soon as he found that the speeches were thought genuine he determined that he would write no more of them: for "he would not be accessary to the propagation of falsehood." and such was the tenderness of his conscience, that a short time before his death he expressed his regret for his having been the authour of fictions which had passed for realities.'--ed. but what first displayed his transcendent powers, and 'gave the world assurance of the man,' was his london, a poem, in imitation of the third satire of juvenal: which came out in may this year, and burst forth with a splendour, the rays of which will for ever encircle his name. boileau had imitated the same satire with great success, applying it to paris; but an attentive comparison will satisfy every reader, that he is much excelled by the english juvenal. oldham had also imitated it, and applied it to london; all which performances concur to prove, that great cities, in every age, and in every country, will furnish similar topicks of satire. whether johnson had previously read oldham's imitation, i do not know; but it is not a little remarkable, that there is scarcely any coincidence found between the two performances, though upon the very same subject. johnson's london was published in may, ; and it is remarkable, that it came out on the same morning with pope's satire, entitled ' ;' so that england had at once its juvenal and horace as poetical monitors. the reverend dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, to whom i am indebted for some obliging communications, was then a student at oxford, and remembers well the effect which london produced. every body was delighted with it; and there being no name to it, the first buz of the literary circles was 'here is an unknown poet, greater even than pope.' and it is recorded in the gentleman's magazine of that year, that it 'got to the second edition in the course of a week.' one of the warmest patrons of this poem on its first appearance was general oglethorpe, whose 'strong benevolence of soul,' was unabated during the course of a very long life; though it is painful to think, that he had but too much reason to become cold and callous, and discontented with the world, from the neglect which he experienced of his publick and private worth, by those in whose power it was to gratify so gallant a veteran with marks of distinction. this extraordinary person was as remarkable for his learning and taste, as for his other eminent qualities; and no man was more prompt, active, and generous, in encouraging merit. i have heard johnson gratefully acknowledge, in his presence, the kind and effectual support which he gave to his london, though unacquainted with its authour. pope, who then filled the poetical throne without a rival, it may reasonably be presumed, must have been particularly struck by the sudden appearance of such a poet; and, to his credit, let it be remembered, that his feelings and conduct on the occasion were candid and liberal. he requested mr. richardson, son of the painter, to endeavour to find out who this new authour was. mr. richardson, after some inquiry, having informed him that he had discovered only that his name was johnson, and that he was some obscure man, pope said; 'he will soon be deterre.' we shall presently see, from a note written by pope, that he was himself afterwards more successful in his inquiries than his friend. while we admire the poetical excellence of this poem, candour obliges us to allow, that the flame of patriotism and zeal for popular resistance with which it is fraught, had no just cause. there was, in truth, no 'oppression;' the 'nation' was not 'cheated.' sir robert walpole was a wise and a benevolent minister, who thought that the happiness and prosperity of a commercial country like ours, would be best promoted by peace, which he accordingly maintained, with credit, during a very long period. johnson himself afterwards honestly acknowledged the merit of walpole, whom he called 'a fixed star;' while he characterised his opponent, pitt, as 'a meteor.' but johnson's juvenile poem was naturally impregnated with the fire of opposition, and upon every account was universally admired. though thus elevated into fame, and conscious of uncommon powers, he had not that bustling confidence, or, i may rather say, that animated ambition, which one might have supposed would have urged him to endeavour at rising in life. but such was his inflexible dignity of character, that he could not stoop to court the great; without which, hardly any man has made his way to a high station. he could not expect to produce many such works as his london, and he felt the hardships of writing for bread; he was, therefore, willing to resume the office of a schoolmaster, so as to have a sure, though moderate income for his life; and an offer being made to him of the mastership of a school, provided he could obtain the degree of master of arts, dr. adams was applied to, by a common friend, to know whether that could be granted him as a favour from the university of oxford. but though he had made such a figure in the literary world, it was then thought too great a favour to be asked. pope, without any knowledge of him but from his london, recommended him to earl gower, who endeavoured to procure for him a degree from dublin. it was, perhaps, no small disappointment to johnson that this respectable application had not the desired effect; yet how much reason has there been, both for himself and his country, to rejoice that it did not succeed, as he might probably have wasted in obscurity those hours in which he afterwards produced his incomparable works. about this time he made one other effort to emancipate himself from the drudgery of authourship. he applied to dr. adams, to consult dr. smalbroke of the commons, whether a person might be permitted to practice as an advocate there, without a doctor's degree in civil law. 'i am (said he) a total stranger to these studies; but whatever is a profession, and maintains numbers, must be within the reach of common abilities, and some degree of industry.' dr. adams was much pleased with johnson's design to employ his talents in that manner, being confident he would have attained to great eminence. as mr. pope's note concerning johnson, alluded to in a former page, refers both to his london, and his marmor norfolciense, i have deferred inserting it till now. i am indebted for it to dr. percy, the bishop of dromore, who permitted me to copy it from the original in his possession. it was presented to his lordship by sir joshua reynolds, to whom it was given by the son of mr. richardson the painter, the person to whom it is addressed. i have transcribed it with minute exactness, that the peculiar mode of writing, and imperfect spelling of that celebrated poet, may be exhibited to the curious in literature. it justifies swift's epithet of 'paper-sparing pope,' for it is written on a slip no larger than a common message-card, and was sent to mr. richardson, along with the imitation of juvenal. 'this is imitated by one johnson who put in for a publick-school in shropshire, but was disappointed. he has an infirmity of the convulsive kind, that attacks him sometimes, so as to make him a sad spectacle. mr. p. from the merit of this work which was all the knowledge he had of him endeavour'd to serve him without his own application; & wrote to my ld gore, but he did not succeed. mr. johnson published afterwds another poem in latin with notes the whole very humerous call'd the norfolk prophecy. p.' johnson had been told of this note; and sir joshua reynolds informed him of the compliment which it contained, but, from delicacy, avoided shewing him the paper itself. when sir joshua observed to johnson that he seemed very desirous to see pope's note, he answered, 'who would not be proud to have such a man as pope so solicitous in inquiring about him?' the infirmity to which mr. pope alludes, appeared to me also, as i have elsewhere observed, to be of the convulsive kind, and of the nature of that distemper called st. vitus's dance; and in this opinion i am confirmed by the description which sydenham gives of that disease. 'this disorder is a kind of convulsion. it manifests itself by halting or unsteadiness of one of the legs, which the patient draws after him like an ideot. if the hand of the same side be applied to the breast, or any other part of the body, he cannot keep it a moment in the same posture, but it will be drawn into a different one by a convulsion, notwithstanding all his efforts to the contrary.' sir joshua reynolds, however, was of a different opinion, and favoured me with the following paper. 'those motions or tricks of dr. johnson are improperly called convulsions. he could sit motionless, when he was told so to do, as well as any other man; my opinion is that it proceeded from a habit which he had indulged himself in, of accompanying his thoughts with certain untoward actions, and those actions always appeared to me as if they were meant to reprobate some part of his past conduct. whenever he was not engaged in conversation, such thoughts were sure to rush into his mind; and, for this reason, any company, any employment whatever, he preferred to being alone. the great business of his life (he said) was to escape from himself; this disposition he considered as the disease of his mind, which nothing cured but company. 'one instance of his absence and particularity, as it is characteristick of the man, may be worth relating. when he and i took a journey together into the west, we visited the late mr. banks, of dorsetshire; the conversation turning upon pictures, which johnson could not well see, he retired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as far as he could reach before him, then bringing up his left leg, and stretching his right still further on. the old gentleman observing him, went up to him, and in a very courteous manner assured him, that though it was not a new house, the flooring was perfectly safe. the doctor started from his reverie, like a person waked out of his sleep, but spoke not a word.' while we are on this subject, my readers may not be displeased with another anecdote, communicated to me by the same friend, from the relation of mr. hogarth. johnson used to be a pretty frequent visitor at the house of mr. richardson, authour of clarissa, and other novels of extensive reputation. mr. hogarth came one day to see richardson, soon after the execution of dr. cameron, for having taken arms for the house of stuart in - ; and being a warm partisan of george the second, he observed to richardson, that certainly there must have been some very unfavourable circumstances lately discovered in this particular case, which had induced the king to approve of an execution for rebellion so long after the time when it was committed, as this had the appearance of putting a man to death in cold blood, and was very unlike his majesty's usual clemency. while he was talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strange ridiculous manner. he concluded that he was an ideot, whom his relations had put under the care of mr. richardson, as a very good man. to his great surprise, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and mr. richardson were sitting, and all at once took up the argument, and burst out into an invective against george the second, as one, who, upon all occasions was unrelenting and barbarous; mentioning many instances, particularly, that when an officer of high rank had been acquitted by a court martial, george the second had with his own hand, struck his name off the list. in short, he displayed such a power of eloquence, that hogarth looked at him with astonishment, and actually imagined that this ideot had been at the moment inspired. neither hogarth nor johnson were made known to each other at this interview. : aetat. .]--in he wrote for the gentleman's magazine the 'preface,' 'life of sir francis drake,' and the first parts of those of 'admiral blake,' and of 'philip baretier,' both which he finished the following year. he also wrote an 'essay on epitaphs,' and an 'epitaph on philips, a musician,' which was afterwards published with some other pieces of his, in mrs. williams's miscellanies. this epitaph is so exquisitely beautiful, that i remember even lord kames, strangely prejudiced as he was against dr. johnson, was compelled to allow it very high praise. it has been ascribed to mr. garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature g; but i have heard mr. garrick declare, that it was written by dr. johnson, and give the following account of the manner in which it was composed. johnson and he were sitting together; when, amongst other things, garrick repeated an epitaph upon this philips by a dr. wilkes, in these words: 'exalted soul! whose harmony could please the love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease; could jarring discord, like amphion, move to beauteous order and harmonious love; rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, and meet thy blessed saviour in the skies.' johnson shook his head at these common-place funereal lines, and said to garrick, 'i think, davy, i can make a better.' then, stirring about his tea for a little while, in a state of meditation, he almost extempore produced the following verses: 'philips, whose touch harmonious could remove the pangs of guilty power or hapless love; rest here, distress'd by poverty no more, here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine, till angels wake thee with a note like thine!' : aetat. .]--in he wrote . . . 'proposals for printing bibliotheca harleiana, or a catalogue of the library of the earl of oxford.' he was employed in this business by mr. thomas osborne the bookseller, who purchased the library for , l., a sum which mr. oldys says, in one of his manuscripts, was not more than the binding of the books had cost; yet, as dr. johnson assured me, the slowness of the sale was such, that there was not much gained by it. it has been confidently related, with many embellishments, that johnson one day knocked osborne down in his shop, with a folio, and put his foot upon his neck. the simple truth i had from johnson himself. 'sir, he was impertinent to me, and i beat him. but it was not in his shop: it was in my own chamber.' : aetat. .]--he produced one work this year, fully sufficient to maintain the high reputation which he had acquired. this was the life of richard savage; a man, of whom it is difficult to speak impartially, without wondering that he was for some time the intimate companion of johnson; for his character was marked by profligacy, insolence, and ingratitude: yet, as he undoubtedly had a warm and vigorous, though unregulated mind, had seen life in all its varieties, and been much in the company of the statesmen and wits of his time, he could communicate to johnson an abundant supply of such materials as his philosophical curiosity most eagerly desired; and as savage's misfortunes and misconduct had reduced him to the lowest state of wretchedness as a writer for bread, his visits to st. john's gate naturally brought johnson and him together. it is melancholy to reflect, that johnson and savage were sometimes in such extreme indigence,* that they could not pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets. yet in these almost incredible scenes of distress, we may suppose that savage mentioned many of the anecdotes with which johnson afterwards enriched the life of his unhappy companion, and those of other poets. * soon after savage's life was published, mr. harte dined with edward cave, and occasionally praised it. soon after, meeting him, cave said, 'you made a man very happy t'other day.'--'how could that be.' says harte; 'nobody was there but ourselves.' cave answered, by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to johnson, dressed so shabbily, that he did not choose to appear; but on hearing the conversation, was highly delighted with the encomiums on his book--malone. he told sir joshua reynolds, that one night in particular, when savage and he walked round st. james's-square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their situation; but in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and 'resolved they would stand by their country.' in johnson's life of savage, although it must be allowed that its moral is the reverse of--'respicere exemplar vitae morumque jubebo,' a very useful lesson is inculcated, to guard men of warm passions from a too free indulgence of them; and the various incidents are related in so clear and animated a manner, and illuminated throughout with so much philosophy, that it is one of the most interesting narratives in the english language. sir joshua reynolds told me, that upon his return from italy he met with it in devonshire, knowing nothing of its authour, and began to read it while he was standing with his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. it seized his attention so strongly, that, not being able to lay down the book till he had finished it, when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed. the rapidity with which this work was composed, is a wonderful circumstance. johnson has been heard to say, 'i wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the life of savage at a sitting; but then i sat up all night.' it is remarkable, that in this biographical disquisition there appears a very strong symptom of johnson's prejudice against players; a prejudice which may be attributed to the following causes: first, the imperfection of his organs, which were so defective that he was not susceptible of the fine impressions which theatrical excellence produces upon the generality of mankind; secondly, the cold rejection of his tragedy; and, lastly, the brilliant success of garrick, who had been his pupil, who had come to london at the same time with him, not in a much more prosperous state than himself, and whose talents he undoubtedly rated low, compared with his own. his being outstripped by his pupil in the race of immediate fame, as well as of fortune, probably made him feel some indignation, as thinking that whatever might be garrick's merits in his art, the reward was too great when compared with what the most successful efforts of literary labour could attain. at all periods of his life johnson used to talk contemptuously of players; but in this work he speaks of them with peculiar acrimony; for which, perhaps, there was formerly too much reason from the licentious and dissolute manners of those engaged in that profession. it is but justice to add, that in our own time such a change has taken place, that there is no longer room for such an unfavourable distinction. his schoolfellow and friend, dr. taylor, told me a pleasant anecdote of johnson's triumphing over his pupil david garrick. when that great actor had played some little time at goodman's fields, johnson and taylor went to see him perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with him and old giffard. johnson, who was ever depreciating stage-players, after censuring some mistakes in emphasis which garrick had committed in the course of that night's acting, said, 'the players, sir, have got a kind of rant, with which they run on, without any regard either to accent or emphasis.' both garrick and giffard were offended at this sarcasm, and endeavoured to refute it; upon which johnson rejoined, 'well now, i'll give you something to speak, with which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how just my observation is. that shall be the criterion. let me hear you repeat the ninth commandment, "thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."' both tried at it, said dr. taylor, and both mistook the emphasis, which should be upon not and false witness. johnson put them right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee. johnson's partiality for savage made him entertain no doubt of his story, however extraordinary and improbable. it never occurred to him to question his being the son of the countess of macclesfield, of whose unrelenting barbarity he so loudly complained, and the particulars of which are related in so strong and affecting a manner in johnson's life of him. johnson was certainly well warranted in publishing his narrative, however offensive it might be to the lady and her relations, because her alledged unnatural and cruel conduct to her son, and shameful avowal of guilt, were stated in a life of savage now lying before me, which came out so early as , and no attempt had been made to confute it, or to punish the authour or printer as a libeller: but for the honour of human nature, we should be glad to find the shocking tale not true; and, from a respectable gentleman connected with the lady's family, i have received such information and remarks, as joined to my own inquiries, will, i think, render it at least somewhat doubtful, especially when we consider that it must have originated from the person himself who went by the name of richard savage. : aetat. .]--it is somewhat curious, that his literary career appears to have been almost totally suspended in the years and , those years which were marked by a civil war in great-britain, when a rash attempt was made to restore the house of stuart to the throne. that he had a tenderness for that unfortunate house, is well known; and some may fancifully imagine, that a sympathetick anxiety impeded the exertion of his intellectual powers: but i am inclined to think, that he was, during this time, sketching the outlines of his great philological work. : aetat. .]--this year his old pupil and friend, david garrick, having become joint patentee and manager of drury-lane theatre, johnson honoured his opening of it with a prologue, which for just and manly dramatick criticism, on the whole range of the english stage, as well as for poetical excellence, is unrivalled. like the celebrated epilogue to the distressed mother, it was, during the season, often called for by the audience. but the year is distinguished as the epoch, when johnson's arduous and important work, his dictionary of the english language, was announced to the world, by the publication of its plan or prospectus. how long this immense undertaking had been the object of his contemplation, i do not know. i once asked him by what means he had attained to that astonishing knowledge of our language, by which he was enabled to realise a design of such extent, and accumulated difficulty. he told me, that 'it was not the effect of particular study; but that it had grown up in his mind insensibly.' i have been informed by mr. james dodsley, that several years before this period, when johnson was one day sitting in his brother robert's shop, he heard his brother suggest to him, that a dictionary of the english language would be a work that would be well received by the publick; that johnson seemed at first to catch at the proposition, but, after a pause, said, in his abrupt decisive manner, 'i believe i shall not undertake it.' that he, however, had bestowed much thought upon the subject, before he published his plan, is evident from the enlarged, clear, and accurate views which it exhibits; and we find him mentioning in that tract, that many of the writers whose testimonies were to be produced as authorities, were selected by pope; which proves that he had been furnished, probably by mr. robert dodsley, with whatever hints that eminent poet had contributed towards a great literary project, that had been the subject of important consideration in a former reign. the booksellers who contracted with johnson, single and unaided, for the execution of a work, which in other countries has not been effected but by the co-operating exertions of many, were mr. robert dodsley, mr. charles hitch, mr. andrew millar, the two messieurs longman, and the two messieurs knapton. the price stipulated was fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds. the plan, was addressed to philip dormer, earl of chesterfield, then one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state; a nobleman who was very ambitious of literary distinction, and who, upon being informed of the design, had expressed himself in terms very favourable to its success. there is, perhaps in every thing of any consequence, a secret history which it would be amusing to know, could we have it authentically communicated. johnson told me, 'sir, the way in which the plan of my dictionary came to be inscribed to lord chesterfield, was this: i had neglected to write it by the time appointed. dodsley suggested a desire to have it addressed to lord chesterfield. i laid hold of this as a pretext for delay, that it might be better done, and let dodsley have his desire. i said to my friend, dr. bathurst, "now if any good comes of my addressing to lord chesterfield, it will be ascribed to deep policy, when, in fact, it was only a casual excuse for laziness."' dr. adams found him one day busy at his dictionary, when the following dialogue ensued. 'adams. this is a great work, sir. how are you to get all the etymologies? johnson. why, sir, here is a shelf with junius, and skinner, and others; and there is a welch gentleman who has published a collection of welch proverbs, who will help me with the welch. adams. but, sir, how can you do this in three years? johnson. sir, i have no doubt that i can do it in three years. adams. but the french academy, which consists of forty members, took forty years to compile their dictionary. johnson. sir, thus it is. this is the proportion. let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. as three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an englishman to a frenchman.' with so much ease and pleasantry could he talk of that prodigious labour which he had undertaken to execute. for the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses; and let it be remembered by the natives of north-britain, to whom he is supposed to have been so hostile, that five of them were of that country. there were two messieurs macbean; mr. shiels, who we shall hereafter see partly wrote the lives of the poets to which the name of cibber is affixed; mr. stewart, son of mr. george stewart, bookseller at edinburgh; and a mr. maitland. the sixth of these humble assistants was mr. peyton, who, i believe, taught french, and published some elementary tracts. to all these painful labourers, johnson shewed a never-ceasing kindness, so far as they stood in need of it. the elder mr. macbean had afterwards the honour of being librarian to archibald, duke of argyle, for many years, but was left without a shilling. johnson wrote for him a preface to a system of ancient geography; and, by the favour of lord thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother of the charterhouse. for shiels, who died of a consumption, he had much tenderness; and it has been thought that some choice sentences in the lives of the poets were supplied by him. peyton, when reduced to penury, had frequent aid from the bounty of johnson, who at last was at the expense of burying both him and his wife. while the dictionary was going forward, johnson lived part of the time in holborn, part in gough-square, fleet-street; and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several tasks. the words, partly taken from other dictionaries, and partly supplied by himself, having been first written down with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing their etymologies, definitions, and various significations. the authorities were copied from the books themselves, in which he had marked the passages with a black-lead pencil, the traces of which could easily be effaced. i have seen several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken; so that they were just as when used by the copyists. it is remarkable, that he was so attentive in the choice of the passages in which words were authorised, that one may read page after page of his dictionary with improvement and pleasure; and it should not pass unobserved, that he has quoted no authour whose writings had a tendency to hurt sound religion and morality. the necessary expense of preparing a work of such magnitude for the press, must have been a considerable deduction from the price stipulated to be paid for the copy-right. i understand that nothing was allowed by the booksellers on that account; and i remember his telling me, that a large portion of it having by mistake been written upon both sides of the paper, so as to be inconvenient for the compositor, it cost him twenty pounds to have it transcribed upon one side only. he is now to be considered as 'tugging at his oar,' as engaged in a steady continued course of occupation, sufficient to employ all his time for some years; and which was the best preventive of that constitutional melancholy which was ever lurking about him, ready to trouble his quiet. but his enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more diversity of employment, and the pleasure of animated relaxation. he therefore not only exerted his talents in occasional composition very different from lexicography, but formed a club in ivy-lane, paternoster-row, with a view to enjoy literary discussion, and amuse his evening hours. the members associated with him in this little society were his beloved friend dr. richard bathurst, mr. hawkesworth, afterwards well known by his writings, mr. john hawkins, an attorney, and a few others of different professions. : aetat. .]--in january, , he published the vanity of human wishes, being the tenth satire of juvenal imitated. he, i believe, composed it the preceding year. mrs. johnson, for the sake of country air, had lodgings at hampstead, to which he resorted occasionally, and there the greatest part, if not the whole, of this imitation was written. the fervid rapidity with which it was produced, is scarcely credible. i have heard him say, that he composed seventy lines of it in one day, without putting one of them upon paper till they were finished. i remember when i once regretted to him that he had not given us more of juvenal's satires, he said he probably should give more, for he had them all in his head; by which i understood that he had the originals and correspondent allusions floating in his mind, which he could, when he pleased, embody and render permanent without much labour. some of them, however, he observed were too gross for imitation. the profits of a single poem, however excellent, appear to have been very small in the last reign, compared with what a publication of the same size has since been known to yield. i have mentioned, upon johnson's own authority, that for his london he had only ten guineas; and now, after his fame was established, he got for his vanity of human wishes but five guineas more, as is proved by an authentick document in my possession. his vanity of human wishes has less of common life, but more of a philosophick dignity than his london. more readers, therefore, will be delighted with the pointed spirit of london, than with the profound reflection of the vanity of human wishes. garrick, for instance, observed in his sprightly manner, with more vivacity than regard to just discrimination, as is usual with wits: 'when johnson lived much with the herveys, and saw a good deal of what was passing in life, he wrote his london, which is lively and easy. when he became more retired, he gave us his vanity of human wishes, which is as hard as greek. had he gone on to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as hebrew.' garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being manager of drury-lane theatre, he kindly and generously made use of it to bring out johnson's tragedy, which had been long kept back for want of encouragement. but in this benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the temper of johnson, which could not brook that a drama which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged to keep more than the nine years of horace, should be revised and altered at the pleasure of an actor. yet garrick knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for the stage. a violent dispute having ensued between them, garrick applied to the reverend dr. taylor to interpose. johnson was at first very obstinate. 'sir, (said he) the fellow wants me to make mahomet run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels.' he was, however, at last, with difficulty, prevailed on to comply with garrick's wishes, so as to allow of some changes; but still there were not enough. dr. adams was present the first night of the representation of irene, and gave me the following account: 'before the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which alarmed johnson's friends. the prologue, which was written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience, and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when mrs. pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bowstring round her neck. the audience cried out "murder! murder!" she several times attempted to speak; but in vain. at last she was obliged to go off the stage alive.' this passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it. the epilogue, as johnson informed me, was written by sir william yonge. i know not how his play came to be thus graced by the pen of a person then so eminent in the political world. notwithstanding all the support of such performers as garrick, barry, mrs. cibber, mrs. pritchard, and every advantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of irene did not please the publick. mr. garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights, so that the authour had his three nights' profits; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands of mr. james dodsley, it appears that his friend mr. robert dodsley gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the right of one edition. when asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, 'like the monument;' meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. and let it be remembered, as an admonition to the genus irritabile of dramatick writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complaining of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision without a murmur. he had, indeed, upon all occasions, a great deference for the general opinion: 'a man (said he) who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions.' on occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat. he humourously observed to mr. langton, 'that when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes.' dress indeed, we must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. his necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession than he had harshly expressed in his life of savage. with some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. he for a considerable time used to frequent the green room, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there. mr. david hume related to me from mr. garrick, that johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, 'i'll come no more behind your scenes, david; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.' : aetat. .]--in he came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom. the vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. the tatler, spectator, and guardian, were the last of the kind published in england, which had stood the test of a long trial; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. a few days before the first of his essays came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of the tatler revived, which i believe was 'born but to die.' johnson was, i think, not very happy in the choice of his title, the rambler, which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses; which the italians have literally, but ludicrously translated by il vagabondo; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, the rambler's magazine. he gave sir joshua reynolds the following account of its getting this name: 'what must be done, sir, will be done. when i was to begin publishing that paper, i was at a loss how to name it. i sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that i would not go to sleep till i had fixed its title. the rambler seemed the best that occurred, and i took it.' with what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which he composed and offered up on the occasion: 'almighty god, the giver of all good things, without whose help all labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is folly; grant, i beseech thee, that in this undertaking thy holy spirit may not be with-held from me, but that i may promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others: grant this, o lord, for the sake of thy son jesus christ. amen.' the first paper of the rambler was published on tuesday the th of march, ; and its authour was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every tuesday and friday, till saturday the th of march, , on which day it closed. this is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of his, which i have had occasion to quote elsewhere, that 'a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it;' for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind, during all that time. posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed. it can be accounted for only in this way; that by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, was ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly accustomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energetick expression. sir joshua reynolds once asked him by what means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow of language. he told him, that he had early laid it down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every company; to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could put it in; and that by constant practice, and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him. as the rambler was entirely the work of one man, there was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very much to exclude the charm of variety; and the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. so slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, that even in the closing number the authour says, 'i have never been much a favourite of the publick.' johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleasing circumstance relative to this work. mrs. johnson, in whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of the rambler had come out, 'i thought very well of you before; but i did not imagine you could have written any thing equal to this.' distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems. her approbation may be said to 'come home to his bosom;' and being so near, its effect is most sensible and permanent. mr. james elphinston, who has since published various works, and who was ever esteemed by johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in scotland while the rambler was coming out in single papers at london. with a laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge of an edition of those essays at edinburgh, which followed progressively the london publication. this year he wrote to the same gentleman upon a mournful occasion. 'to mr. james elphinston. september , . 'dear sir, you have, as i find by every kind of evidence, lost an excellent mother; and i hope you will not think me incapable of partaking of your grief. i have a mother, now eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, i must soon lose, unless it please god that she rather should mourn for me. i read the letters in which you relate your mother's death to mrs. strahan, and think i do myself honour, when i tell you that i read them with tears; but tears are neither to you nor to me of any further use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. the business of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of which we are lamenting our deprivation. the greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate his virtues. this your mother will still perform, if you diligently preserve the memory of her life, and of her death: a life, so far as i can learn, useful, wise, and innocent; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. i cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her present state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which her instructions or example have contributed. whether this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of god: yet, surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal; and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be made probable, that that union that has received the divine approbation shall continue to eternity. 'there is one expedient by which you may, in some degree, continue her presence. if you write down minutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to veneration. to this, however painful for the present, i cannot but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear sir, your most obliged, most obedient, and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' the rambler has increased in fame as in age. soon after its first folio edition was concluded, it was published in six duodecimo volumes; and its authour lived to see ten numerous editions of it in london, beside those of ireland and scotland. the style of johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great writers in the last century, hooker, bacon, sanderson, hakewell, and others; those 'giants,' as they were well characterised by a great personage, whose authority, were i to name him, would stamp a reverence on the opinion. johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the english language, of his own formation; and he was very much offended at the general licence, by no means 'modestly taken' in his time not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical. sir thomas brown, whose life johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of anglo-latin diction; and to his example we are to ascribe johnson's sometimes indulging himself in this kind of phraseology. johnson's comprehension of mind was the mould for his language. had his conceptions been narrower, his expression would have been easier. his sentences have a dignified march; and, it is certain, that his example has given a general elevation to the language of his country, for many of our best writers have approached very near to him; and, from the influence which he has had upon our composition, scarcely any thing is written now that is not better expressed than was usual before he appeared to lead the national taste. though the rambler was not concluded till the year , i shall, under this year, say all that i have to observe upon it. some of the translations of the mottos by himself are admirably done. he acknowledges to have received 'elegant translations' of many of them from mr. james elphinston; and some are very happily translated by a mr. f. lewis, of whom i never heard more, except that johnson thus described him to mr. malone: 'sir, he lived in london, and hung loose upon society.' his just abhorrence of milton's political notions was ever strong. but this did not prevent his warm admiration of milton's great poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious justice, beyond all who have written upon the subject. and this year he not only wrote a prologue, which was spoken by mr. garrick before the acting of comus at drury-lane theatre, for the benefit of milton's grand-daughter, but took a very zealous interest in the success of the charity. : aetat. .]--in we are to consider him as carrying on both his dictionary and rambler. though johnson's circumstances were at this time far from being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. mrs. anna williams, daughter of a very ingenious welsh physician, and a woman of more than ordinary talents and literature, having come to london in hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visitor at his house while mrs. johnson lived; and after her death, having come under his roof in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house. : aetat. .]--in he was almost entirely occupied with his dictionary. the last paper of his rambler was published march , this year; after which, there was a cessation for some time of any exertion of his talents as an essayist. but, in the same year, dr. hawkesworth, who was his warm admirer, and a studious imitator of his style, and then lived in great intimacy with him, began a periodical paper, entitled the adventurer, in connection with other gentlemen, one of whom was johnson's much-beloved friend, dr. bathurst; and, without doubt, they received many valuable hints from his conversation, most of his friends having been so assisted in the course of their works. that there should be a suspension of his literary labours during a part of the year , will not seem strange, when it is considered that soon after closing his rambler, he suffered a loss which, there can be no doubt, affected him with the deepest distress. for on the th of march, o.s., his wife died. the following very solemn and affecting prayer was found after dr. johnson's decease, by his servant, mr. francis barber, who delivered it to my worthy friend the reverend mr. strahan, vicar of islington, who at my earnest request has obligingly favoured me with a copy of it, which he and i compared with the original: 'april , , being after at night of the th. 'o lord! governour of heaven and earth, in whose hands are embodied and departed spirits, if thou hast ordained the souls of the dead to minister to the living, and appointed my departed wife to have care of me, grant that i may enjoy the good effects of her attention and ministration, whether exercised by appearance, impulses, dreams or in any other manner agreeable to thy government. forgive my presumption, enlighten my ignorance, and however meaner agents are employed, grant me the blessed influences of thy holy spirit, through jesus christ our lord. amen.' that his love for his wife was of the most ardent kind, and, during the long period of fifty years, was unimpaired by the lapse of time, is evident from various passages in the series of his prayers and meditations, published by the reverend mr. strahan, as well as from other memorials, two of which i select, as strongly marking the tenderness and sensibility of his mind. 'march , . i kept this day as the anniversary of my tetty's death, with prayer and tears in the morning. in the evening i prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful.' 'april , . i know not whether i do not too much indulge the vain longings of affection; but i hope they intenerate my heart, and that when i die like my tetty, this affection will be acknowledged in a happy interview, and that in the mean time i am incited by it to piety. i will, however, not deviate too much from common and received methods of devotion.' her wedding ring, when she became his wife, was, after her death, preserved by him, as long as he lived, with an affectionate care, in a little round wooden box, in the inside of which he pasted a slip of paper, thus inscribed by him in fair characters, as follows: 'eheu! eliz. johnson nupta jul. , mortua, eheu! mart. .' after his death, mr. francis barber, his faithful servant and residuary legatee, offered this memorial of tenderness to mrs. lucy porter, mrs. johnson's daughter; but she having declined to accept of it, he had it enamelled as a mourning ring for his old master, and presented it to his wife, mrs. barber, who now has it. i have, indeed, been told by mrs. desmoulins, who, before her marriage, lived for some time with mrs. johnson at hampstead, that she indulged herself in country air and nice living, at an unsuitable expense, while her husband was drudging in the smoke of london, and that she by no means treated him with that complacency which is the most engaging quality in a wife. but all this is perfectly compatible with his fondness for her, especially when it is remembered that he had a high opinion of her understanding, and that the impressions which her beauty, real or imaginary, had originally made upon his fancy, being continued by habit, had not been effaced, though she herself was doubtless much altered for the worse. the dreadful shock of separation took place in the night; and he immediately dispatched a letter to his friend, the reverend dr. taylor, which, as taylor told me, expressed grief in the strongest manner he had ever read; so that it is much to be regretted it has not been preserved. the letter was brought to dr. taylor, at his house in the cloisters, westminster, about three in the morning; and as it signified an earnest desire to see him, he got up, and went to johnson as soon as he was dressed, and found him in tears and in extreme agitation. after being a little while together, johnson requested him to join with him in prayer. he then prayed extempore, as did dr. taylor; and thus, by means of that piety which was ever his primary object, his troubled mind was, in some degree, soothed and composed. the next day he wrote as follows: 'to the reverend dr. taylor. 'dear sir,--let me have your company and instruction. do not live away from me. my distress is great. 'pray desire mrs. taylor to inform me what mourning i should buy for my mother and miss porter, and bring a note in writing with you. 'remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man. i am, dear sir, &c. 'march , .' 'sam. johnson.' that his sufferings upon the death of his wife were severe, beyond what are commonly endured, i have no doubt, from the information of many who were then about him, to none of whom i give more credit than to mr. francis barber, his faithful negro servant, who came into his family about a fortnight after the dismal event. these sufferings were aggravated by the melancholy inherent in his constitution; and although he probably was not oftener in the wrong than she was, in the little disagreements which sometimes troubled his married state, during which, he owned to me, that the gloomy irritability of his existence was more painful to him than ever, he might very naturally, after her death, be tenderly disposed to charge himself with slight omissions and offences, the sense of which would give him much uneasiness. accordingly we find, about a year after her decease, that he thus addressed the supreme being: 'o lord, who givest the grace of repentance, and hearest the prayers of the penitent, grant that by true contrition i may obtain forgiveness of all the sins committed, and of all duties neglected in my union with the wife whom thou hast taken from me; for the neglect of joint devotion, patient exhortation, and mild instruction.' the kindness of his heart, notwithstanding the impetuosity of his temper, is well known to his friends; and i cannot trace the smallest foundation for the following dark and uncharitable assertion by sir john hawkins: 'the apparition of his departed wife was altogether of the terrifick kind, and hardly afforded him a hope that she was in a state of happiness.' that he, in conformity with the opinion of many of the most able, learned, and pious christians in all ages, supposed that there was a middle state after death, previous to the time at which departed souls are finally received to eternal felicity, appears, i think, unquestionably from his devotions: 'and, o lord, so far as it may be lawful in me, i commend to thy fatherly goodness the soul of my departed wife; beseeching thee to grant her whatever is best in her present state, and finally to receive her to eternal happiness.' but this state has not been looked upon with horrour, but only as less gracious. he deposited the remains of mrs. johnson in the church of bromley, in kent, to which he was probably led by the residence of his friend hawkesworth at that place. the funeral sermon which he composed for her, which was never preached, but having been given to dr. taylor, has been published since his death, is a performance of uncommon excellence, and full of rational and pious comfort to such as are depressed by that severe affliction which johnson felt when he wrote it. when it is considered that it was written in such an agitation of mind, and in the short interval between her death and burial, it cannot be read without wonder. from mr. francis barber i have had the following authentick and artless account of the situation in which he found him recently after his wife's death: 'he was in great affliction. mrs. williams was then living in his house, which was in gough-square. he was busy with the dictionary. mr. shiels, and some others of the gentlemen who had formerly written for him, used to come about him. he had then little for himself, but frequently sent money to mr. shiels when in distress. the friends who visited him at that time, were chiefly dr. bathurst, and mr. diamond, an apothecary in cork-street, burlington-gardens, with whom he and mrs. williams generally dined every sunday. there was a talk of his going to iceland with him, which would probably have happened had he lived. there were also mr. cave, dr. hawkesworth, mr. ryland, merchant on tower hill, mrs. masters, the poetess, who lived with mr. cave, mrs. carter, and sometimes mrs. macaulay, also mrs. gardiner, wife of a tallow-chandler on snow-hill, not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman; mr. (now sir joshua) reynolds; mr. millar, mr. dodsley, mr. bouquet, mr. payne of paternoster-row, booksellers; mr. strahan, the printer; the earl of orrery, lord southwell, mr. garrick.' many are, no doubt, omitted in this catalogue of his friends, and, in particular, his humble friend mr. robert levet, an obscure practiser in physick amongst the lower people, his fees being sometimes very small sums, sometimes whatever provisions his patients could afford him; but of such extensive practice in that way, that mrs. williams has told me, his walk was from hounsditch to marybone. it appears from johnson's diary that their acquaintance commenced about the year ; and such was johnson's predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate abilities, that i have heard him say he should not be satisfied, though attended by all the college of physicians, unless he had mr. levet with him. ever since i was acquainted with dr. johnson, and many years before, as i have been assured by those who knew him earlier, mr. levet had an apartment in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious breakfast. he was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while any company was present. the circle of his friends, indeed, at this time was extensive and various, far beyond what has been generally imagined. to trace his acquaintance with each particular person, if it could be done, would be a task, of which the labour would not be repaid by the advantage. but exceptions are to be made; one of which must be a friend so eminent as sir joshua reynolds, who was truly his dulce decus, and with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last hour of his life. when johnson lived in castle-street, cavendish-square, he used frequently to visit two ladies, who lived opposite to him, miss cotterells, daughters of admiral cotterell. reynolds used also to visit there, and thus they met. mr. reynolds, as i have observed above, had, from the first reading of his life of savage, conceived a very high admiration of johnson's powers of writing. his conversation no less delighted him; and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement. sir joshua, indeed, was lucky enough at their very first meeting to make a remark, which was so much above the common-place style of conversation, that johnson at once perceived that reynolds had the habit of thinking for himself. the ladies were regretting the death of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations; upon which reynolds observed, 'you have, however, the comfort of being relieved from a burthen of gratitude.' they were shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish; but johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, and was much pleased with the mind, the fair view of human nature, which it exhibited, like some of the reflections of rochefaucault. the consequence was, that he went home with reynolds, and supped with him. sir joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of johnson about the time of their first acquaintance. when they were one evening together at the miss cotterells', the then duchess of argyle and another lady of high rank came in. johnson thinking that the miss cotterells were too much engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew angry; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by making their great visitors imagine that his friend and he were low indeed, he addressed himself in a loud tone to mr. reynolds, saying, 'how much do you think you and i could get in a week, if we were to work as hard as we could?'--as if they had been common mechanicks. his acquaintance with bennet langton, esq. of langton, in lincolnshire, another much valued friend, commenced soon after the conclusion of his rambler; which that gentleman, then a youth, had read with so much admiration, that he came to london chiefly with the view of endeavouring to be introduced to its authour. by a fortunate chance he happened to take lodgings in a house where mr. levet frequently visited; and having mentioned his wish to his landlady, she introduced him to mr. levet, who readily obtained johnson's permission to bring mr. langton to him; as, indeed, johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no shyness, real or affected, but was easy of access to all who were properly recommended, and even wished to see numbers at his levee, as his morning circle of company might, with strict propriety, be called. mr. langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared. he had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. from perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-drest, in short, remarkably decorous philosopher. instead of which, down from his bed-chamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. but his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so congenial with those in which langton had been educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which he ever preserved. johnson was not the less ready to love mr. langton, for his being of a very ancient family; for i have heard him say, with pleasure, 'langton, sir, has a grant of free warren from henry the second; and cardinal stephen langton, in king john's reign, was of this family.' mr. langton afterwards went to pursue his studies at trinity college, oxford, where he formed an acquaintance with his fellow student, mr. topham beauclerk; who, though their opinions and modes of life were so different, that it seemed utterly improbable that they should at all agree, had so ardent a love of literature, so acute an understanding, such elegance of manners, and so well discerned the excellent qualities of mr. langton, a gentleman eminent not only for worth and learning, but for an inexhaustible fund of entertaining conversation, that they became intimate friends. johnson, soon after this acquaintance began, passed a considerable time at oxford. he at first thought it strange that langton should associate so much with one who had the character of being loose, both in his principles and practice; but, by degrees, he himself was fascinated. mr. beauclerk's being of the st. alban's family, and having, in some particulars, a resemblance to charles the second, contributed, in johnson's imagination, to throw a lustre upon his other qualities; and, in a short time, the moral, pious johnson, and the gay, dissipated beauclerk, were companions. 'what a coalition! (said garrick, when he heard of this;) i shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house.' but i can bear testimony that it was a very agreeable association. beauclerk was too polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to offend johnson by sallies of infidelity or licentiousness; and johnson delighted in the good qualities of beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. innumerable were the scenes in which johnson was amused by these young men. beauclerk could take more liberty with him, than any body with whom i ever saw him; but, on the other hand, beauclerk was not spared by his respectable companion, when reproof was proper. beauclerk had such a propensity to satire, that at one time johnson said to him, 'you never open your mouth but with intention to give pain; and you have often given me pain, not from the power of what you said, but from seeing your intention.' at another time applying to him, with a slight alteration, a line of pope, he said, 'thy love of folly, and thy scorn of fools-- every thing thou dost shews the one, and every thing thou say'st the other.' at another time he said to him, 'thy body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue.' beauclerk not seeming to relish the compliment, johnson said, 'nay, sir, alexander the great, marching in triumph into babylon, could not have desired to have had more said to him.' johnson was some time with beauclerk at his house at windsor, where he was entertained with experiments in natural philosophy. one sunday, when the weather was very fine, beauclerk enticed him, insensibly, to saunter about all the morning. they went into a church-yard, in the time of divine service, and johnson laid himself down at his ease upon one of the tomb-stones. 'now, sir, (said beauclerk) you are like hogarth's idle apprentice.' when johnson got his pension, beauclerk said to him, in the humorous phrase of falstaff, 'i hope you'll now purge and live cleanly like a gentleman.' one night when beauclerk and langton had supped at a tavern in london, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to go and knock up johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. they rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to attack him. when he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good humour agreed to their proposal: 'what, is it you, you dogs! i'll have a frisk with you.' he was soon drest, and they sallied forth together into covent-garden, where the greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. johnson made some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. they then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called bishop, which johnson had always liked; while in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated the festive lines, 'short, o short then be thy reign, and give us to the world again!' they did not stay long, but walked down to the thames, took a boat, and rowed to billingsgate. beauclerk and johnson were so well pleased with their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: but langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young ladies. johnson scolded him for 'leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched un-idea'd girls.' garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, 'i heard of your frolick t'other night. you'll be in the chronicle.' upon which johnson afterwards observed, 'he durst not do such a thing. his wife would not let him!' : aetat. .]--he entered upon this year with his usual piety, as appears from the following prayer, which i transcribed from that part of his diary which he burnt a few days before his death: 'jan. , , n.s. which i shall use for the future. 'almighty god, who hast continued my life to this day, grant that, by the assistance of thy holy spirit, i may improve the time which thou shalt grant me, to my eternal salvation. make me to remember, to thy glory, thy judgements and thy mercies. make me so to consider the loss of my wife, whom thou hast taken from me, that it may dispose me, by thy grace, to lead the residue of my life in thy fear. grant this, o lord, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' he now relieved the drudgery of his dictionary, and the melancholy of his grief, by taking an active part in the composition of the adventurer, in which he began to write april . in one of the books of his diary i find the following entry: 'apr. , . i began the second vol. of my dictionary, room being left in the first for preface, grammar, and history, none of them yet begun. 'o god, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present state; that when i shall render up, at the last day, an account of the talent committed to me, i may receive pardon, for the sake of jesus christ. amen.' : aetat. .]--the dictionary, we may believe, afforded johnson full occupation this year. as it approached to its conclusion, he probably worked with redoubled vigour, as seamen increase their exertion and alacrity when they have a near prospect of their haven. lord chesterfield, to whom johnson had paid the high compliment of addressing to his lordship the plan of his dictionary, had behaved to him in such a manner as to excite his contempt and indignation. the world has been for many years amused with a story confidently told, and as confidently repeated with additional circumstances, that a sudden disgust was taken by johnson upon occasion of his having been one day kept long in waiting in his lordship's antechamber, for which the reason assigned was, that he had company with him; and that at last, when the door opened, out walked colley cibber; and that johnson was so violently provoked when he found for whom he had been so long excluded, that he went away in a passion, and never would return. i remember having mentioned this story to george lord lyttelton, who told me, he was very intimate with lord chesterfield; and holding it as a well-known truth, defended lord chesterfield, by saying, that 'cibber, who had been introduced familiarly by the back-stairs, had probably not been there above ten minutes.' it may seem strange even to entertain a doubt concerning a story so long and so widely current, and thus implicitly adopted, if not sanctioned, by the authority which i have mentioned; but johnson himself assured me, that there was not the least foundation for it. he told me, that there never was any particular incident which produced a quarrel between lord chesterfield and him; but that his lordship's continued neglect was the reason why he resolved to have no connection with him. when the dictionary was upon the eve of publication, lord chesterfield, who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that johnson would dedicate the work to him, attempted, in a courtly manner, to sooth, and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as it should seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated its learned authour; and further attempted to conciliate him, by writing two papers in the world, in recommendation of the work; and it must be confessed, that they contain some studied compliments, so finely turned, that if there had been no previous offence, it is probable that johnson would have been highly delighted.* praise, in general, was pleasing to him; but by praise from a man of rank and elegant accomplishments, he was peculiarly gratified. * boswell could not have read the second paper carefully. it is silly and indecent and was certain to offend johnson. --ed. this courtly device failed of its effect. johnson, who thought that 'all was false and hollow,' despised the honeyed words, and was even indignant that lord chesterfield should, for a moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an artifice. his expression to me concerning lord chesterfield, upon this occasion, was, 'sir, after making great professions, he had, for many years, taken no notice of me; but when my dictionary was coming out, he fell a scribbling in the world about it. upon which, i wrote him a letter expressed in civil terms, but such as might shew him that i did not mind what he said or wrote, and that i had done with him.' this is that celebrated letter of which so much has been said, and about which curiosity has been so long excited, without being gratified. i for many years solicited johnson to favour me with a copy of it, that so excellent a composition might not be lost to posterity. he delayed from time to time to give it me; till at last in , when we were on a visit at mr. dilly's, at southill in bedfordshire, he was pleased to dictate it to me from memory. he afterwards found among his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to mr. baretti, with its title and corrections, in his own handwriting. this he gave to mr. langton; adding that if it were to come into print, he wished it to be from that copy. by mr. langton's kindness, i am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect transcript of what the world has so eagerly desired to see. 'to the right honourable the earl of chesterfield 'february , . 'my lord, i have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the world, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your lordship. to be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, i know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. 'when, upon some slight encouragement, i first visited your lordship, i was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that i might boast myself le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre;--that i might obtain that regard for which i saw the world contending; but i found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. when i had once addressed your lordship in publick, i had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. i had done all that i could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. 'seven years, my lord, have now past, since i waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time i have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect, for i never had a patron before. 'the shepherd in virgil grew at last acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks. 'is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself. 'having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, i shall not be disappointed though i should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for i have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which i once boasted myself with so much exultation, my lord, your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, 'sam johnson.' 'while this was the talk of the town, (says dr. adams, in a letter to me) i happened to visit dr. warburton, who finding that i was acquainted with johnson, desired me earnestly to carry his compliments to him, and to tell him that he honoured him for his manly behaviour in rejecting these condescensions of lord chesterfield, and for resenting the treatment he had received from him, with a proper spirit. johnson was visibly pleased with this compliment, for he had always a high opinion of warburton. indeed, the force of mind which appeared in this letter, was congenial with that which warburton himself amply possessed.' there is a curious minute circumstance which struck me, in comparing the various editions of johnson's imitations of juvenal. in the tenth satire, one of the couplets upon the vanity of wishes even for literary distinction stood thus: 'yet think what ills the scholar's life assail, pride, envy, want, the garret, and the jail.' but after experiencing the uneasiness which lord chesterfield's fallacious patronage made him feel, he dismissed the word garret from the sad group, and in all the subsequent editions the line stands-- 'pride, envy, want, the patron, and the jail.' that lord chesterfield must have been mortified by the lofty contempt, and polite, yet keen satire with which johnson exhibited him to himself in this letter, it is impossible to doubt. he, however, with that glossy duplicity which was his constant study, affected to be quite unconcerned. dr. adams mentioned to mr. robert dodsley that he was sorry johnson had written his letter to lord chesterfield. dodsley, with the true feelings of trade, said 'he was very sorry too; for that he had a property in the dictionary, to which his lordship's patronage might have been of consequence.' he then told dr. adams, that lord chesterfield had shewn him the letter. 'i should have imagined (replied dr. adams) that lord chesterfield would have concealed it.' 'poh! (said dodsley) do you think a letter from johnson could hurt lord chesterfield? not at all, sir. it lay upon his table; where any body might see it. he read it to me; said, "this man has great powers," pointed out the severest passages, and observed how well they were expressed.' this air of indifference, which imposed upon the worthy dodsley, was certainly nothing but a specimen of that dissimulation which lord chesterfield inculcated as one of the most essential lessons for the conduct of life. his lordship endeavoured to justify himself to dodsley from the charges brought against him by johnson; but we may judge of the flimsiness of his defence, from his having excused his neglect of johnson, by saying that 'he had heard he had changed his lodgings, and did not know where he lived;' as if there could have been the smallest difficulty to inform himself of that circumstance, by inquiring in the literary circle with which his lordship was well acquainted, and was, indeed, himself one of its ornaments. dr. adams expostulated with johnson, and suggested, that his not being admitted when he called on him, was, probably, not to be imputed to lord chesterfield; for his lordship had declared to dodsley, that 'he would have turned off the best servant he ever had, if he had known that he denied him to a man who would have been always more than welcome;' and, in confirmation of this, he insisted on lord chesterfield's general affability and easiness of access, especially to literary men. 'sir (said johnson) that is not lord chesterfield; he is the proudest man this day existing.' 'no, (said dr. adams) there is one person, at least, as proud; i think, by your own account, you are the prouder man of the two.' 'but mine (replied johnson, instantly) was defensive pride.' this, as dr. adams well observed, was one of those happy turns for which he was so remarkably ready. johnson having now explicitly avowed his opinion of lord chesterfield, did not refrain from expressing himself concerning that nobleman with pointed freedom: 'this man (said he) i thought had been a lord among wits; but, i find, he is only a wit among lords!' and when his letters to his natural son were published, he observed, that 'they teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master.' on the th of march came out lord bolingbroke's works, published by mr. david mallet. the wild and pernicious ravings, under the name of philosophy, which were thus ushered into the world, gave great offence to all well-principled men. johnson, hearing of their tendency, which nobody disputed, was roused with a just indignation, and pronounced this memorable sentence upon the noble authour and his editor. 'sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward: a scoundrel, for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly scotchman, to draw the trigger after his death!' johnson this year found an interval of leisure to make an excursion to oxford, for the purpose of consulting the libraries there. of his conversation while at oxford at this time, mr. warton preserved and communicated to me the following memorial, which, though not written with all the care and attention which that learned and elegant writer bestowed on those compositions which he intended for the publick eye, is so happily expressed in an easy style, that i should injure it by any alteration: 'when johnson came to oxford in , the long vacation was beginning, and most people were leaving the place. this was the first time of his being there, after quitting the university. the next morning after his arrival, he wished to see his old college, pembroke. i went with him. he was highly pleased to find all the college-servants which he had left there still remaining, particularly a very old butler; and expressed great satisfaction at being recognised by them, and conversed with them familiarly. he waited on the master, dr. radcliffe, who received him very coldly. johnson at least expected, that the master would order a copy of his dictionary, now near publication: but the master did not choose to talk on the subject, never asked johnson to dine, nor even to visit him, while he stayed at oxford. after we had left the lodgings, johnson said to me, "there lives a man, who lives by the revenues of literature, and will not move a finger to support it. if i come to live at oxford, i shall take up my abode at trinity." we then called on the reverend mr. meeke, one of the fellows, and of johnson's standing. here was a most cordial greeting on both sides. on leaving him, johnson said, "i used to think meeke had excellent parts, when we were boys together at the college: but, alas! 'lost in a convent's solitary gloom!' i remember, at the classical lecture in the hall, i could not bear meeke's superiority, and i tried to sit as far from him as i could, that i might not hear him construe." 'as we were leaving the college, he said, "here i translated pope's messiah. which do you think is the best line in it?--my own favourite is, 'vallis aromaticas fundit saronica nubes.'" i told him, i thought it a very sonorous hexameter. i did not tell him, it was not in the virgilian style. he much regretted that his first tutor was dead; for whom he seemed to retain the greatest regard. he said, "i once had been a whole morning sliding in christ-church meadow, and missed his lecture in logick. after dinner, he sent for me to his room. i expected a sharp rebuke for my idleness, and went with a beating heart. when we were seated, he told me he had sent for me to drink a glass of wine with him, and to tell me, he was not angry with me for missing his lecture. this was, in fact, a most severe reprimand. some more of the boys were then sent for, and we spent a very pleasant afternoon." besides mr. meeke, there was only one other fellow of pembroke now resident: from both of whom johnson received the greatest civilities during this visit, and they pressed him very much to have a room in the college. 'in the course of this visit ( ), johnson and i walked, three or four times, to ellsfield, a village beautifully situated about three miles from oxford, to see mr. wise, radclivian librarian, with whom johnson was much pleased. at this place, mr. wise had fitted up a house and gardens, in a singular manner, but with great taste. here was an excellent library; particularly, a valuable collection of books in northern literature, with which johnson was often very busy. one day mr. wise read to us a dissertation which he was preparing for the press, intitled, "a history and chronology of the fabulous ages." some old divinities of thrace, related to the titans, and called the cabiri, made a very important part of the theory of this piece; and in conversation afterwards, mr. wise talked much of his cabiri. as we returned to oxford in the evening, i out-walked johnson, and he cried out sufflamina, a latin word which came from his mouth with peculiar grace, and was as much as to say, put on your drag chain. before we got home, i again walked too fast for him; and he now cried out, "why, you walk as if you were pursued by all the cabiri in a body." in an evening, we frequently took long walks from oxford into the country, returning to supper. once, in our way home, we viewed the ruins of the abbies of oseney and rewley, near oxford. after at least half an hour's silence, johnson said, "i viewed them with indignation!" we had then a long conversation on gothick buildings; and in talking of the form of old halls, he said, "in these halls, the fire place was anciently always in the middle of the room, till the whigs removed it on one side."--about this time there had been an execution of two or three criminals at oxford on a monday. soon afterwards, one day at dinner, i was saying that mr. swinton the chaplain of the gaol, and also a frequent preacher before the university, a learned man, but often thoughtless and absent, preached the condemnation-sermon on repentance, before the convicts, on the preceding day, sunday; and that in the close he told his audience, that he should give them the remainder of what he had to say on the subject, the next lord's day. upon which, one of our company, a doctor of divinity, and a plain matter-of-fact man, by way of offering an apology for mr. swinton, gravely remarked, that he had probably preached the same sermon before the university: "yes, sir, (says johnson) but the university were not to be hanged the next morning." 'i forgot to observe before, that when he left mr. meeke, (as i have told above) he added, "about the same time of life, meeke was left behind at oxford to feed on a fellowship, and i went to london to get my living: now, sir, see the difference of our literary characters!"' the degree of master of arts, which, it has been observed, could not be obtained for him at an early period of his life, was now considered as an honour of considerable importance, in order to grace the title-page of his dictionary; and his character in the literary world being by this time deservedly high, his friends thought that, if proper exertions were made, the university of oxford would pay him the compliment. to the reverend thomas warton. 'dear sir,--i am extremely sensible of the favour done me, both by mr. wise and yourself. the book* cannot, i think, be printed in less than six weeks, nor probably so soon; and i will keep back the title-page, for such an insertion as you seem to promise me. . . . 'i had lately the favour of a letter from your brother, with some account of poor collins, for whom i am much concerned. i have a notion, that by very great temperance, or more properly abstinence, he may yet recover. . . . 'you know poor mr. dodsley has lost his wife; i believe he is much affected. i hope he will not suffer so much as i yet suffer for the loss of mine. [greek text omitted] i have ever since seemed to myself broken off from mankind; a kind of solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or fixed point of view: a gloomy gazer on a world to which i have little relation. yet i would endeavour, by the help of you and your brother, to supply the want of closer union, by friendship: and hope to have long the pleasure of being, dear sir, most affectionately your's, '[london.] dec. , .' 'sam. johnson.' * 'his dictionary'--warton. : aetat. .]--in we behold him to great advantage; his degree of master of arts conferred upon him, his dictionary published, his correspondence animated, his benevolence exercised. mr. charles burney, who has since distinguished himself so much in the science of musick, and obtained a doctor's degree from the university of oxford, had been driven from the capital by bad health, and was now residing at lynne regis, in norfolk. he had been so much delighted with johnson's rambler and the plan of his dictionary, that when the great work was announced in the news-papers as nearly finished,' he wrote to dr. johnson, begging to be informed when and in what manner his dictionary would be published; intreating, if it should be by subscription, or he should have any books at his own disposal, to be favoured with six copies for himself and friends. in answer to this application, dr. johnson wrote the following letter, of which (to use dr. burney's own words) 'if it be remembered that it was written to an obscure young man, who at this time had not much distinguished himself even in his own profession, but whose name could never have reached the authour of the rambler, the politeness and urbanity may be opposed to some of the stories which have been lately circulated of dr. johnson's natural rudeness and ferocity.' 'to mr. burney, in lynne regis, norfolk. 'sir,--if you imagine that by delaying my answer i intended to shew any neglect of the notice with which you have favoured me, you will neither think justly of yourself nor of me. your civilities were offered with too much elegance not to engage attention; and i have too much pleasure in pleasing men like you, not to feel very sensibly the distinction which you have bestowed upon me. 'few consequences of my endeavours to please or to benefit mankind have delighted me more than your friendship thus voluntarily offered, which now i have it i hope to keep, because i hope to continue to deserve it. 'i have no dictionaries to dispose of for myself, but shall be glad to have you direct your friends to mr. dodsley, because it was by his recommendation that i was employed in the work. 'when you have leisure to think again upon me, let me be favoured with another letter; and another yet, when you have looked into my dictionary. if you find faults, i shall endeavour to mend them; if you find none, i shall think you blinded by kind partiality: but to have made you partial in his favour, will very much gratify the ambition of, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'gough-square, fleet-street, april , .' the dictionary, with a grammar and history of the english language, being now at length published, in two volumes folio, the world contemplated with wonder so stupendous a work achieved by one man, while other countries had thought such undertakings fit only for whole academies. vast as his powers were, i cannot but think that his imagination deceived him, when he supposed that by constant application he might have performed the task in three years. the extensive reading which was absolutely necessary for the accumulation of authorities, and which alone may account for johnson's retentive mind being enriched with a very large and various store of knowledge and imagery, must have occupied several years. the preface furnishes an eminent instance of a double talent, of which johnson was fully conscious. sir joshua reynolds heard him say, 'there are two things which i am confident i can do very well: one is an introduction to any literary work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should be executed in the most perfect manner; the other is a conclusion, shewing from various causes why the execution has not been equal to what the authour promised to himself and to the publick.' a few of his definitions must be admitted to be erroneous. thus, windward and leeward, though directly of opposite meaning, are defined identically the same way; as to which inconsiderable specks it is enough to observe, that his preface announces that he was aware there might be many such in so immense a work; nor was he at all disconcerted when an instance was pointed out to him. a lady once asked him how he came to define pastern the knee of a horse: instead of making an elaborate defence, as she expected, he at once answered, 'ignorance, madam, pure ignorance.' his definition of network* has been often quoted with sportive malignity, as obscuring a thing in itself very plain. but to these frivolous censures no other answer is necessary than that with which we are furnished by his own preface. * any thing reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections.'--ed. his introducing his own opinions, and even prejudices, under general definitions of words, while at the same time the original meaning of the words is not explained, as his tory, whig, pension, oats, excise,* and a few more, cannot be fully defended, and must be placed to the account of capricious and humorous indulgence. talking to me upon this subject when we were at ashbourne in , he mentioned a still stronger instance of the predominance of his private feelings in the composition of this work, than any now to be found in it. 'you know, sir, lord gower forsook the old jacobite interest. when i came to the word renegado, after telling that it meant "one who deserts to the enemy, a revolter," i added, sometimes we say a gower. thus it went to the press; but the printer had more wit than i, and struck it out.' * tory. 'one who adheres to the ancient constitution or the state and the apostolical hierarchy of the church or england, opposed to a whig.' whig. 'the name of a faction.' pension. 'an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. in england it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country.' oats. 'a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people.' excise. 'a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.'--ed. let it, however, be remembered, that this indulgence does not display itself only in sarcasm towards others, but sometimes in playful allusion to the notions commonly entertained of his own laborious task. thus: 'grub-street, the name of a street in london, much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called grub-street.'--'lexicographer, a writer of dictionaries, a harmless drudge.' it must undoubtedly seem strange, that the conclusion of his preface should be expressed in terms so desponding, when it is considered that the authour was then only in his forty-sixth year. but we must ascribe its gloom to that miserable dejection of spirits to which he was constitutionally subject, and which was aggravated by the death of his wife two years before. i have heard it ingeniously observed by a lady of rank and elegance, that 'his melancholy was then at its meridian.' it pleased god to grant him almost thirty years of life after this time; and once, when he was in a placid frame of mind, he was obliged to own to me that he had enjoyed happier days, and had many more friends, since that gloomy hour than before. it is a sad saying, that 'most of those whom he wished to please had sunk into the grave;' and his case at forty-five was singularly unhappy, unless the circle of his friends was very narrow. he said to sir joshua reynolds, 'if a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. a man, sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair.' in july this year he had formed some scheme of mental improvement, the particular purpose of which does not appear. but we find in his prayers and meditations, p. , a prayer entitled 'on the study of philosophy, as an instrument of living;' and after it follows a note, 'this study was not pursued.' on the th of the same month he wrote in his journal the following scheme of life, for sunday: 'having lived' (as he with tenderness of conscience expresses himself) 'not without an habitual reverence for the sabbath, yet without that attention to its religious duties which christianity requires; ' . to rise early, and in order to it, to go to sleep early on saturday. ' . to use some extraordinary devotion in the morning. ' . to examine the tenour of my life, and particularly the last week; and to mark my advances in religion, or recession from it. ' . to read the scripture methodically with such helps as are at hand. ' . to go to church twice. ' . to read books of divinity, either speculative or practical. ' . to instruct my family. ' . to wear off by meditation any worldly soil contracted in the week.' : aetat. .]--in johnson found that the great fame of his dictionary had not set him above the necessity of 'making provision for the day that was passing over him.' no royal or noble patron extended a munificent hand to give independence to the man who had conferred stability on the language of his country. we may feel indignant that there should have been such unworthy neglect; but we must, at the same time, congratulate ourselves, when we consider that to this very neglect, operating to rouse the natural indolence of his constitution, we owe many valuable productions, which otherwise, perhaps, might never have appeared. he had spent, during the progress of the work, the money for which he had contracted to write his dictionary. we have seen that the reward of his labour was only fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds; and when the expence of amanuenses and paper, and other articles are deducted, his clear profit was very inconsiderable. i once said to him, 'i am sorry, sir, you did not get more for your dictionary.' his answer was, 'i am sorry, too. but it was very well. the booksellers are generous, liberal-minded men.' he, upon all occasions, did ample justice to their character in this respect. he considered them as the patrons of literature; and, indeed, although they have eventually been considerable gainers by his dictionary, it is to them that we owe its having been undertaken and carried through at the risk of great expence, for they were not absolutely sure of being indemnified. he this year resumed his scheme of giving an edition of shakspeare with notes.* he issued proposals of considerable length, in which he shewed that he perfectly well knew what a variety of research such an undertaking required; but his indolence prevented him from pursuing it with that diligence which alone can collect those scattered facts that genius, however acute, penetrating, and luminous, cannot discover by its own force. it is remarkable, that at this time his fancied activity was for the moment so vigorous, that he promised his work should be published before christmas, . yet nine years elapsed before it saw the light. his throes in bringing it forth had been severe and remittent; and at last we may almost conclude that the caesarian operation was performed by the knife of churchill, whose upbraiding satire, i dare say, made johnson's friends urge him to dispatch. 'he for subscribers bates his hook, and takes your cash; but where's the book? no matter where; wise fear, you know, forbids the robbing of a foe; but what, to serve our private ends, forbids the cheating of our friends?' * first proposed in --ed. about this period he was offered a living of considerable value in lincolnshire, if he were inclined to enter into holy orders. it was a rectory in the gift of mr. langton, the father of his much valued friend. but he did not accept of it; partly i believe from a conscientious motive, being persuaded that his temper and habits rendered him unfit for that assiduous and familiar instruction of the vulgar and ignorant which he held to be an essential duty in a clergyman; and partly because his love of a london life was so strong, that he would have thought himself an exile in any other place, particularly if residing in the country. whoever would wish to see his thoughts upon that subject displayed in their full force, may peruse the adventurer, number . : aetat. .]--mr. burney having enclosed to him an extract from the review of his dictionary in the bibliotheque des savans, and a list of subscribers to his shakspeare, which mr. burney had procured in norfolk, he wrote the following answer: 'to mr. burney, in lynne, norfolk. 'sir,--that i may shew myself sensible of your favours, and not commit the same fault a second time, i make haste to answer the letter which i received this morning. the truth is, the other likewise was received, and i wrote an answer; but being desirous to transmit you some proposals and receipts, i waited till i could find a convenient conveyance, and day was passed after day, till other things drove it from my thoughts; yet not so, but that i remember with great pleasure your commendation of my dictionary. your praise was welcome, not only because i believe it was sincere, but because praise has been very scarce. a man of your candour will be surprised when i tell you, that among all my acquaintance there were only two, who upon the publication of my book did not endeavour to depress me with threats of censure from the publick, or with objections learned from those who had learned them from my own preface. your's is the only letter of goodwill that i have received; though, indeed, i am promised something of that sort from sweden. 'how my new edition will be received i know not; the subscription has not been very successful. i shall publish about march. 'if you can direct me how to send proposals, i should wish that they were in such hands. 'i remember, sir, in some of the first letters with which you favoured me, you mentioned your lady. may i enquire after her? in return for the favours which you have shewn me, it is not much to tell you, that i wish you and her all that can conduce to your happiness. i am, sir, your most obliged, and most humble servant, sam. johnson.' 'gough-square, dec. , .' in we find him, it should seem, in as easy and pleasant a state of existence, as constitutional unhappiness ever permitted him to enjoy. 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, lincolnshire. 'dearest sir,--i must indeed have slept very fast, not to have been awakened by your letter. none of your suspicions are true; i am not much richer than when you left me; and, what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter, will prove that i am not much wiser. but i go on as i formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of delay. when i was as you are now, towering in the confidence of twenty-one, little did i suspect that i should be at forty-nine, what i now am. 'but you do not seem to need my admonition. you are busy in acquiring and in communicating knowledge, and while you are studying, enjoy the end of study, by making others wiser and happier. i was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutour to your sisters. i, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends; and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native union is afterwards regarded. it sometimes, indeed, happens, that some supervenient cause of discord may overpower this original amity; but it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. we tell the ladies that good wives make good husbands; i believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters. 'i am satisfied with your stay at home, as juvenal with his friend's retirement to cumae: i know that your absence is best, though it be not best for me. 'quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere cumis destinet, atque unum civem donare sibylloe.' 'langton is a good cumae, but who must be sibylla? mrs. langton is as wise as sibyl, and as good; and will live, if my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. but she differs in this, that she has not scattered her precepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed upon you. 'the two wartons just looked into the town, and were taken to see cleone, where, david* says, they were starved for want of company to keep them warm. david and doddy** have had a new quarrel, and, i think, cannot conveniently quarrel any more. cleone was well acted by all the characters, but bellamy left nothing to be desired. i went the first night, and supported it, as well as i might; for doddy, you know, is my patron, and i would not desert him. the play was very well received. doddy, after the danger was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at the distress of poor cleone. * mr. garrick--boswell. ** mr. dodsley, the authour of cleone.--boswell. 'i have left off housekeeping, and therefore made presents of the game which you were pleased to send me. the pheasant i gave to mr. richardson,* the bustard to dr. lawrence, and the pot i placed with miss williams, to be eaten by myself. she desires that her compliments and good wishes may be accepted by the family; and i make the same request for myself. * mr. samuel richardson, authour of clarissa.--boswell. 'mr. reynolds has within these few days raised his price to twenty guineas a head, and miss is much employed in miniatures. i know not any body [else] whose prosperity has increased since you left them. 'murphy is to have his orphan of china acted next month; and is therefore, i suppose, happy. i wish i could tell you of any great good to which i was approaching, but at present my prospects do not much delight me; however, i am always pleased when i find that you, dear sir, remember, your affectionate, humble servant, sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' dr. burney has kindly favoured me with the following memorandum, which i take the liberty to insert in his own genuine easy style. i love to exhibit sketches of my illustrious friend by various eminent hands. 'soon after this, mr. burney, during a visit to the capital, had an interview with him in gough-square, where he dined and drank tea with him, and was introduced to the acquaintance of mrs. williams. after dinner, mr. johnson proposed to mr. burney to go up with him into his garret, which being accepted, he there found about five or six greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. johnson giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only three legs and one arm. here he gave mr. burney mrs. williams's history, and shewed him some volumes of his shakspeare already printed, to prove that he was in earnest. upon mr. burney's opening the first volume, at the merchant of venice, he observed to him, that he seemed to be more severe on warburton than theobald. "o poor tib.! (said johnson) he was ready knocked down to my hands; warburton stands between me and him." "but, sir, (said mr. burney,) you'll have warburton upon your bones, won't you?" "no, sir; he'll not come out: he'll only growl in his den." "but you think, sir, that warburton is a superiour critick to theobald?" "o sir he'd make two-and-fifty theobalds, cut into slices! the worst of warburton is, that he has a rage for saying something, when there's nothing to be said." mr. burney then asked him whether he had seen the letter which warburton had written in answer to a pamphlet addressed "to the most impudent man alive." he answered in the negative. mr. burney told him it was supposed to be written by mallet. the controversey now raged between the friends of pope and bolingbroke; and warburton and mallet were the leaders of the several parties. mr. burney asked him then if he had seen warburton's book against bolingbroke's philosophy? "no, sir, i have never read bolingbroke's impiety, and therefore am not interested about its confutation."' on the fifteenth of april he began a new periodical paper, entitled the idler, which came out every saturday in a weekly news-paper, called the universal chronicle, or weekly gazette, published by newbery. these essays were continued till april , . of one hundred and three, their total number, twelve were contributed by his friends. the idler is evidently the work of the same mind which produced the rambler, but has less body and more spirit. it has more variety of real life, and greater facility of language. he describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively sensations of one who has felt them; and in his private memorandums while engaged in it, we find 'this year i hope to learn diligence.' many of these excellent essays were written as hastily as an ordinary letter. mr. langton remembers johnson, when on a visit at oxford, asking him one evening how long it was till the post went out; and on being told about half an hour, he exclaimed, 'then we shall do very well.' he upon this instantly sat down and finished an idler, which it was necessary should be in london the next day. mr. langton having signified a wish to read it, 'sir, (said he) you shall not do more than i have done myself.' he then folded it up and sent it off. : aetat. .]--in , in the month of january, his mother died at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply affected him; not that 'his mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality;' but that his reverential affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he retained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his life. i have been told that he regretted much his not having gone to visit his mother for several years, previous to her death. but he was constantly engaged in literary labours which confined him to london; and though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contributed liberally to her support. soon after this event, he wrote his rasselas, prince of abyssinia; concerning the publication of which sir john hawkins guesses vaguely and idly, instead of having taken the trouble to inform himself with authentick precision. not to trouble my readers with a repetition of the knight's reveries, i have to mention, that the late mr. strahan the printer told me, that johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray the expence of his mother's funeral, and pay some little debts which she had left. he told sir joshua reynolds that he composed it in the evenings of one week, sent it to the press in portions as it was written, and had never since read it over. mr. strahan, mr. johnston, and mr. dodsley purchased it for a hundred pounds, but afterwards paid him twenty-five pounds more, when it came to a second edition. voltaire's candide, written to refute the system of optimism, which it has accomplished with brilliant success, is wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to johnson's rasselas; insomuch, that i have heard johnson say, that if they had not been published so closely one after the other that there was not time for imitation, it would have been in vain to deny that the scheme of that which came latest was taken from the other. though the proposition illustrated by both these works was the same, namely, that in our present state there is more evil than good, the intention of the writers was very different. voltaire, i am afraid, meant only by wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive victory over religion, and to discredit the belief of a superintending providence; johnson meant, by shewing the unsatisfactory nature of things temporal, to direct the hopes of man to things eternal. rasselas, as was observed to me by a very accomplished lady, may be considered as a more enlarged and more deeply philosophical discourse in prose, upon the interesting truth, which in his vanity of human wishes he had so successfully enforced in verse. i would ascribe to this year the following letter to a son of one of his early friends at lichfield, mr. joseph simpson, barrister, and authour of a tract entitled reflections on the study of the law. 'to joseph simpson, esq. 'dear sir,--your father's inexorability not only grieves but amazes me: he is your father; he was always accounted a wise man; nor do i remember any thing to the disadvantage of his good-nature; but in his refusal to assist you there is neither good-nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. it is the practice of good-nature to overlook faults which have already, by the consequences, punished the delinquent. it is natural for a father to think more favourably than others of his children; and it is always wise to give assistance while a little help will prevent the necessity of greater. 'if you married imprudently, you miscarried at your own hazard, at an age when you had a right of choice. it would be hard if the man might not choose his own wife, who has a right to plead before the judges of his country. 'if your imprudence has ended in difficulties and inconveniences, you are yourself to support them; and, with the help of a little better health, you would support them and conquer them. surely, that want which accident and sickness produces, is to be supported in every region of humanity, though there were neither friends nor fathers in the world. you have certainly from your father the highest claim of charity, though none of right; and therefore i would counsel you to omit no decent nor manly degree of importunity. your debts in the whole are not large, and of the whole but a small part is troublesome. small debts are like small shot; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be escaped without a wound: great debts are like cannon; of loud noise, but little danger. you must, therefore, be enabled to discharge petty debts, that you may have leisure, with security to struggle with the rest. neither the great nor little debts disgrace you. i am sure you have my esteem for the courage with which you contracted them, and the spirit with which you endure them. i wish my esteem could be of more use. i have been invited, or have invited myself, to several parts of the kingdom; and will not incommode my dear lucy by coming to lichfield, while her present lodging is of any use to her. i hope, in a few days, to be at leisure, and to make visits. whither i shall fly is matter of no importance. a man unconnected is at home every where; unless he may be said to be at home no where. i am sorry, dear sir, that where you have parents, a man of your merits should not have an home. i wish i could give it you. i am, my dear sir, affectionately yours, 'sam. johnson.' he now refreshed himself by an excursion to oxford, of which the following short characteristical notice, in his own words, is preserved '* * * is now making tea for me. i have been in my gown ever since i came here. it was, at my first coming, quite new and handsome. i have swum thrice, which i had disused for many years. i have proposed to vansittart, climbing over the wall, but he has refused me. and i have clapped my hands till they are sore, at dr. king's speech.' his negro servant, francis barber, having left him, and been some time at sea, not pressed as has been supposed, but with his own consent, it appears from a letter to john wilkes, esq., from dr. smollet, that his master kindly interested himself in procuring his release from a state of life of which johnson always expressed the utmost abhorrence. he said, 'no man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned.' and at another time, 'a man in a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company.' the letter was as follows:-- 'chelsea, march , . 'dear sir, i am again your petitioner, in behalf of that great cham of literature, samuel johnson. his black servant, whose name is francis barber, has been pressed on board the stag frigate, captain angel, and our lexicographer is in great distress. he says the boy is a sickly lad, of a delicate frame, and particularly subject to a malady in his throat, which renders him very unfit for his majesty's service. you know what manner of animosity the said johnson has against you; and i dare say you desire no other opportunity of resenting it than that of laying him under an obligation. he was humble enough to desire my assistance on this occasion, though he and i were never cater-cousins; and i gave him to understand that i would make application to my friend mr. wilkes, who, perhaps, by his interest with dr. hay and mr. elliot, might be able to procure the discharge of his lacquey. it would be superfluous to say more on the subject, which i leave to your own consideration; but i cannot let slip this opportunity of declaring that i am, with the most inviolable esteem and attachment, dear sir, your affectionate, obliged, humble servant, 't. smollet.' mr. wilkes, who upon all occasions has acted, as a private gentleman, with most polite liberality, applied to his friend sir george hay, then one of the lords commissioners of the admiralty; and francis barber was discharged, as he has told me, without any wish of his own. he found his old master in chambers in the inner temple, and returned to his service. : aetat. .]--i take this opportunity to relate the manner in which an acquaintance first commenced between dr. johnson and mr. murphy. during the publication of the gray's-inn journal, a periodical paper which was successfully carried on by mr. murphy alone, when a very young man, he happened to be in the country with mr. foote; and having mentioned that he was obliged to go to london in order to get ready for the press one of the numbers of that journal, foote said to him, 'you need not go on that account. here is a french magazine, in which you will find a very pretty oriental tale; translate that, and send it to your printer.' mr. murphy having read the tale, was highly pleased with it, and followed foote's advice. when he returned to town, this tale was pointed out to him in the rambler, from whence it had been translated into the french magazine. mr. murphy then waited upon johnson, to explain this curious incident. his talents, literature, and gentleman-like manners, were soon perceived by johnson, and a friendship was formed which was never broken. : aetat. .]--a lady having at this time solicited him to obtain the archbishop of canterbury's patronage to have her son sent to the university, one of those solicitations which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a particular object, do not consider propriety, or the opportunity which the persons whom they solicit have to assist them, he wrote to her the following answer, with a copy of which i am favoured by the reverend dr. farmer, master of emanuel college, cambridge. 'madam,--i hope you will believe that my delay in answering your letter could proceed only from my unwillingness to destroy any hope that you had formed. hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which this world affords: but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain; and expectations improperly indulged, must end in disappointment. if it be asked, what is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to indulge, experience will quickly answer, that it is such expectation as is dictated not by reason, but by desire; expectation raised, not by the common occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant; an expectation that requires the common course of things to be changed, and the general rules of action to be broken. 'when you made your request to me, you should have considered, madam, what you were asking. you ask me to solicit a great man, to whom i never spoke, for a young person whom i had never seen, upon a supposition which i had no means of knowing to be true. there is no reason why, amongst all the great, i should chuse to supplicate the archbishop, nor why, among all the possible objects of his bounty, the archbishop should chuse your son. i know, madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when interest opposes it; but surely, madam, you must allow, that there is no reason why that should be done by me, which every other man may do with equal reason, and which, indeed no man can do properly, without some very particular relation both to the archbishop and to you. if i could help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would give me pleasure; but this proposal is so very remote from all usual methods, that i cannot comply with it, but at the risk of such answer and suspicions as i believe you do not wish me to undergo. 'i have seen your son this morning; he seems a pretty youth, and will, perhaps, find some better friend than i can procure him; but, though he should at last miss the university, he may still be wise, useful, and happy. i am, madam, your most humble servant, 'june , .' 'sam. johnson.' 'to mr. joseph baretti, at milan. 'london, july , . 'sir, however justly you may accuse me for want of punctuality in correspondence, i am not so far lost in negligence as to omit the opportunity of writing to you, which mr. beauclerk's passage through milan affords me. 'i suppose you received the idlers, and i intend that you shall soon receive shakspeare, that you may explain his works to the ladies of italy, and tell them the story of the editor, among the other strange narratives with which your long residence in this unknown region has supplied you. 'as you have now been long away, i suppose your curiosity may pant for some news of your old friends. miss williams and i live much as we did. miss cotterel still continues to cling to mrs. porter, and charlotte is now big of the fourth child. mr. reynolds gets six thousands a year. levet is lately married, not without much suspicion that he has been wretchedly cheated in his match. mr. chambers is gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with the judges. mr. richardson is dead of an apoplexy, and his second daughter has married a merchant. 'my vanity, or my kindness, makes me flatter myself, that you would rather hear of me than of those whom i have mentioned; but of myself i have very little which i care to tell. last winter i went down to my native town, where i found the streets much narrower and shorter than i thought i had left them, inhabited by a new race of people, to whom i was very little known. my play-fellows were grown old, and forced me to suspect that i was no longer young. my only remaining friend has changed his principles, and was become the tool of the predominant faction. my daughter-in-law, from whom i expected most, and whom i met with sincere benevolence, has lost the beauty and gaiety of youth, without having gained much of the wisdom of age. i wandered about for five days, and took the first convenient opportunity of returning to a place, where, if there is not much happiness, there is, at least, such a diversity of good and evil, that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart. . . . 'may you, my baretti, be very happy at milan, or some other place nearer to, sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' the accession of george the third to the throne of these kingdoms, opened a new and brighter prospect to men of literary merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal favour in the preceding reign. his present majesty's education in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, prompted him to be the patron of science and the arts; and early this year johnson, having been represented to him as a very learned and good man, without any certain provision, his majesty was pleased to grant him a pension of three hundred pounds a year. the earl of bute, who was then prime minister, had the honour to announce this instance of his sovereign's bounty, concerning which, many and various stories, all equally erroneous, have been propagated: maliciously representing it as a political bribe to johnson, to desert his avowed principles, and become the tool of a government which he held to be founded in usurpation. i have taken care to have it in my power to refute them from the most authentick information. lord bute told me, that mr. wedderburne, now lord loughborough, was the person who first mentioned this subject to him. lord loughborough told me, that the pension was granted to johnson solely as the reward of his literary merit, without any stipulation whatever, or even tacit understanding that he should write for administration. his lordship added, that he was confident the political tracts which johnson afterwards did write, as they were entirely consonant with his own opinions, would have been written by him though no pension had been granted to him. mr. thomas sheridan and mr. murphy, who then lived a good deal both with him and mr. wedderburne, told me, that they previously talked with johnson upon this matter, and that it was perfectly understood by all parties that the pension was merely honorary. sir joshua reynolds told me, that johnson called on him after his majesty's intention had been notified to him, and said he wished to consult his friends as to the propriety of his accepting this mark of the royal favour, after the definitions which he had given in his dictionary of pension and pensioners. he said he would not have sir joshua's answer till next day, when he would call again, and desired he might think of it. sir joshua answered that he was clear to give his opinion then, that there could be no objection to his receiving from the king a reward for literary merit; and that certainly the definitions in his dictionary were not applicable to him. johnson, it should seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he had accepted the pension, and had waited on lord bute to thank him. he then told sir joshua that lord bute said to him expressly, 'it is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done.' his lordship, he said, behaved in the handsomest manner, he repeated the words twice, that he might be sure johnson heard them, and thus set his mind perfectly at ease. this nobleman, who has been so virulently abused, acted with great honour in this instance and displayed a mind truly liberal. a minister of a more narrow and selfish disposition would have availed himself of such an opportunity to fix an implied obligation on a man of johnson's powerful talents to give him his support. mr. murphy and the late mr. sheridan severally contended for the distinction of having been the first who mentioned to mr. wedderburne that johnson ought to have a pension. when i spoke of this to lord loughborough, wishing to know if he recollected the prime mover in the business, he said, 'all his friends assisted:' and when i told him that mr. sheridan strenuously asserted his claim to it, his lordship said, 'he rang the bell.' and it is but just to add, that mr. sheridan told me, that when he communicated to dr. johnson that a pension was to be granted him, he replied in a fervour of gratitude, 'the english language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. i must have recourse to the french. i am penetre with his majesty's goodness.' when i repeated this to dr. johnson, he did not contradict it. this year his friend sir joshua reynolds paid a visit of some weeks to his native country, devonshire, in which he was accompanied by johnson, who was much pleased with this jaunt, and declared he had derived from it a great accession of new ideas. he was entertained at the seats of several noblemen and gentlemen in the west of england; but the greatest part of the time was passed at plymouth, where the magnificence of the navy, the ship-building and all its circumstances, afforded him a grand subject of contemplation. the commissioner of the dock-yard paid him the compliment of ordering the yacht to convey him and his friend to the eddystone, to which they accordingly sailed. but the weather was so tempestuous that they could not land. reynolds and he were at this time the guests of dr. mudge, the celebrated surgeon, and now physician of that place, not more distinguished for quickness of parts and variety of knowledge, than loved and esteemed for his amiable manners; and here johnson formed an acquaintance with dr. mudge's father, that very eminent divine, the reverend zachariah mudge, prebendary of exeter, who was idolised in the west, both for his excellence as a preacher and the uniform perfect propriety of his private conduct. he preached a sermon purposely that johnson might hear him; and we shall see afterwards that johnson honoured his memory by drawing his character. while johnson was at plymouth, he saw a great many of its inhabitants, and was not sparing of his very entertaining conversation. it was here that he made that frank and truly original confession, that 'ignorance, pure ignorance,' was the cause of a wrong definition in his dictionary of the word pastern, to the no small surprise of the lady who put the question to him; who having the most profound reverence for his character, so as almost to suppose him endowed with infallibility, expected to hear an explanation (of what, to be sure, seemed strange to a common reader,) drawn from some deep-learned source with which she was unacquainted. sir joshua reynolds, to whom i was obliged for my information concerning this excursion, mentions a very characteristical anecdote of johnson while at plymouth. having observed that in consequence of the dock-yard a new town had arisen about two miles off as a rival to the old; and knowing from his sagacity, and just observation of human nature, that it is certain if a man hates at all, he will hate his next neighbour; he concluded that this new and rising town could not but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in which conjecture he was very soon confirmed; he therefore set himself resolutely on the side of the old town, the established town, in which his lot was cast, considering it as a kind of duty to stand by it. he accordingly entered warmly into its interests, and upon every occasion talked of the dockers, as the inhabitants of the new town were called, as upstarts and aliens. plymouth is very plentifully supplied with water by a river brought into it from a great distance, which is so abundant that it runs to waste in the town. the dock, or new-town, being totally destitute of water, petitioned plymouth that a small portion of the conduit might be permitted to go to them, and this was now under consideration. johnson, affecting to entertain the passions of the place, was violent in opposition; and, half-laughing at himself for his pretended zeal where he had no concern, exclaimed, 'no, no! i am against the dockers; i am a plymouth man. rogues! let them die of thirst. they shall not have a drop!' : aetat. .]--this is to me a memorable year; for in it i had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whose memoirs i am now writing; an acquaintance which i shall ever esteem as one of the most fortunate circumstances in my life. though then but two-and-twenty, i had for several years read his works with delight and instruction, and had the highest reverence for their authour, which had grown up in my fancy into a kind of mysterious veneration, by figuring to myself a state of solemn elevated abstraction, in which i supposed him to live in the immense metropolis of london. mr. gentleman, a native of ireland, who passed some years in scotland as a player, and as an instructor in the english language, a man whose talents and worth were depressed by misfortunes, had given me a representation of the figure and manner of dictionary johnson! as he was then generally called; and during my first visit to london, which was for three months in , mr. derrick the poet, who was gentleman's friend and countryman, flattered me with hopes that he would introduce me to johnson, an honour of which i was very ambitious. but he never found an opportunity; which made me doubt that he had promised to do what was not in his power; till johnson some years afterwards told me, 'derrick, sir, might very well have introduced you. i had a kindness for derrick, and am sorry he is dead.' in the summer of mr. thomas sheridan was at edinburgh, and delivered lectures upon the english language and publick speaking to large and respectable audiences. i was often in his company, and heard him frequently expatiate upon johnson's extraordinary knowledge, talents, and virtues, repeat his pointed sayings, describe his particularities, and boast of his being his guest sometimes till two or three in the morning. at his house i hoped to have many opportunities of seeing the sage, as mr. sheridan obligingly assured me i should not be disappointed. when i returned to london in the end of , to my surprise and regret i found an irreconcilable difference had taken place between johnson and sheridan. a pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to sheridan. johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of sheridan's art, upon hearing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed, 'what! have they given him a pension? then it is time for me to give up mine.' johnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to mr. sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was, that after a pause he added, 'however, i am glad that mr. sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man.' sheridan could never forgive this hasty contemptuous expression. it rankled in his mind; and though i informed him of all that johnson said, and that he would be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated offers which i made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and i were engaged to dine, because he was told that dr. johnson was to be there. this rupture with sheridan deprived johnson of one of his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely evenings; for sheridan's well-informed, animated, and bustling mind never suffered conversation to stagnate; and mrs. sheridan was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual man. she was sensible, ingenious, unassuming, yet communicative. i recollect, with satisfaction, many pleasing hours which i passed with her under the hospitable roof of her husband, who was to me a very kind friend. her novel, entitled memoirs of miss sydney biddulph, contains an excellent moral while it inculcates a future state of retribution; and what it teaches is impressed upon the mind by a series of as deep distress as can affect humanity, in the amiable and pious heroine who goes to her grave unrelieved, but resigned, and full of hope of 'heaven's mercy.' johnson paid her this high compliment upon it: 'i know not, madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much.' mr. thomas davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in russel-street, covent-garden, told me that johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us. mr. thomas davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with the advantage of a liberal education. though somewhat pompous, he was an entertaining companion; and his literary performances have no inconsiderable share of merit. he was a friendly and very hospitable man. both he and his wife, (who has been celebrated for her beauty,) though upon the stage for many years, maintained an uniform decency of character; and johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with them, as with any family which he used to visit. mr. davies recollected several of johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while relating them. he increased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works i highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly excellent. at last, on monday the th of may, when i was sitting in mr. davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with him and mrs. davies, johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and mr. davies having perceived him through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us,--he announced his aweful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of horatio, when he addresses hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, 'look, my lord, it comes.' i found that i had a very perfect idea of johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by sir joshua reynolds soon after he had published his dictionary, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation, which was the first picture his friend did for him, which sir joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. mr. davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. i was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the scotch, of which i had heard much, i said to davies, 'don't tell where i come from.'--'from scotland,' cried davies roguishly. 'mr. johnson, (said i) i do indeed come from scotland, but i cannot help it.' i am willing to flatter myself that i meant this as light pleasantry to sooth and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expence of my country. but however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression 'come from scotland,' which i used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if i had said that i had come away from it, or left it, retorted, 'that, sir, i find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' this stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, i felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. he then addressed himself to davies: 'what do you think of garrick? he has refused me an order for the play for miss williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings.' eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, i ventured to say, 'o, sir, i cannot think mr. garrick would grudge such a trifle to you.' 'sir, (said he, with a stern look,) i have known david garrick longer than you have done: and i know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.' perhaps i deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil.* i now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which i had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. and, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. fortunately, however, i remained upon the field not wholly discomfited. * that this was a momentary sally against garrick there can be no doubt; for at johnson's desire he had, some years before, given a benefit-night at his theatre to this very person, by which she had got two hundred pounds. johnson, indeed, upon all other occasions, when i was in his company praised the very liberal charity of garrick. i once mentioned to him, 'it is observed, sir, that you attack garrick yourself, but will suffer nobody else to do it.' johnson, (smiling) 'why, sir, that is true.'--boswell. i was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his conversation, and regretted that i was drawn away from it by an engagement at another place. i had, for a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had ventured to make an observation now and then, which he received very civilly; so that i was satisfied that though there was a roughness in his manner, there was no ill-nature in his disposition. davies followed me to the door, and when i complained to him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, 'don't be uneasy. i can see he likes you very well.' a few days afterwards i called on davies, and asked him if he thought i might take the liberty of waiting on mr. johnson at his chambers in the temple. he said i certainly might, and that mr. johnson would take it as a compliment. so upon tuesday the th of may, after having been enlivened by the witty sallies of messieurs thornton, wilkes, churchill and lloyd, with whom i had passed the morning, i boldly repaired to johnson. his chambers were on the first floor of no. , inner-temple-lane, and i entered them with an impression given me by the reverend dr. blair, of edinburgh, who had been introduced to him not long before, and described his having 'found the giant in his den;' an expression, which, when i came to be pretty well acquainted with johnson, i repeated to him, and he was diverted at this picturesque account of himself. dr. blair had been presented to him by dr. james fordyce. at this time the controversy concerning the pieces published by mr. james macpherson, as translations of ossian, was at its height. johnson had all along denied their authenticity; and, what was still more provoking to their admirers, maintained that they had no merit. the subject having been introduced by dr. fordyce, dr. blair, relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, asked dr. johnson whether he thought any man of a modern age could have written such poems? johnson replied, 'yes, sir, many men, many women, and many children.' johnson, at this time, did not know that dr. blair had just published a dissertation, not only defending their authenticity, but seriously ranking them with the poems of homer and virgil; and when he was afterwards informed of this circumstance, he expressed some displeasure at dr. fordyce's having suggested the topick, and said, 'i am not sorry that they got thus much for their pains. sir, it was like leading one to talk of a book when the authour is concealed behind the door.' he received me very courteously; but, it must be confessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth. his brown suit of cloaths looked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. but all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk. some gentlemen, whom i do not recollect, were sitting with him; and when they went away, i also rose; but he said to me, 'nay, don't go.' 'sir, (said i,) i am afraid that i intrude upon you. it is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.' he seemed pleased with this compliment, which i sincerely paid him, and answered, 'sir, i am obliged to any man who visits me.' i have preserved the following short minute of what passed this day:-- 'madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. my poor friend smart shewed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as smart did, i am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.' concerning this unfortunate poet, christopher smart, who was confined in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the following conversation with dr. burney:--burney. 'how does poor smart do, sir; is he likely to recover?' johnson. 'it seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease; for he grows fat upon it.' burney. 'perhaps, sir, that may be from want of exercise.' johnson. 'no, sir; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house; but he was carried back again. i did not think he ought to be shut up. his infirmities were not noxious to society. he insisted on people praying with him; and i'd as lief pray with kit smart as any one else. another charge was, that he did not love clean linen; and i have no passion for it.'--johnson continued. 'mankind have a great aversion to intellectual labour; but even supposing knowledge to be easily attainable, more people would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little trouble to acquire it.' talking of garrick, he said, 'he is the first man in the world for sprightly conversation.' when i rose a second time he again pressed me to stay, which i did. he told me, that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home till two in the morning. i took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of his great talents. he owned it was a bad habit. on reviewing, at the distance of many years, my journal of this period, i wonder how, at my first visit, i ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it with so much indulgence. before we parted, he was so good as to promise to favour me with his company one evening at my lodgings; and, as i took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. it is almost needless to add, that i felt no little elation at having now so happily established an acquaintance of which i had been so long ambitious. i did not visit him again till monday, june , at which time i recollect no part of his conversation, except that when i told him i had been to see johnson ride upon three horses, he said, 'such a man, sir, should be encouraged; for his performances shew the extent of the human powers in one instance, and thus tend to raise our opinion of the faculties of man. he shews what may be attained by persevering application; so that every man may hope, that by giving as much application, although perhaps he may never ride three horses at a time, or dance upon a wire, yet he may be equally expert in whatever profession he has chosen to pursue.' he again shook me by the hand at parting, and asked me why i did not come oftener to him. trusting that i was now in his good graces, i answered, that he had not given me much encouragement, and reminded him of the check i had received from him at our first interview. 'poh, poh! (said he, with a complacent smile,) never mind these things. come to me as often as you can. i shall be glad to see you.' i had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the mitre tavern in fleet-street, where he loved to sit up late, and i begged i might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he promised i should. a few days afterwards i met him near temple-bar, about one o'clock in the morning, and asked if he would then go to the mitre. 'sir, (said he) it is too late; they won't let us in. but i'll go with you another night with all my heart.' a revolution of some importance in my plan of life had just taken place; for instead of procuring a commission in the foot-guards, which was my own inclination, i had, in compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the law, and was soon to set out for utrecht, to hear the lectures of an excellent civilian in that university, and then to proceed on my travels. though very desirous of obtaining dr. johnson's advice and instructions on the mode of pursuing my studies, i was at this time so occupied, shall i call it? or so dissipated, by the amusements of london, that our next meeting was not till saturday, june , when happening to dine at clifton's eating-house, in butcher-row i was surprized to perceive johnson come in and take his seat at another table. the mode of dining, or rather being fed, at such houses in london, is well known to many to be particularly unsocial, as there is no ordinary, or united company, but each person has his own mess, and is under no obligation to hold any intercourse with any one. a liberal and full-minded man, however, who loves to talk, will break through this churlish and unsocial restraint. johnson and an irish gentleman got into a dispute concerning the cause of some part of mankind being black. 'why, sir, (said johnson,) it has been accounted for in three ways: either by supposing that they are the posterity of ham, who was cursed; or that god at first created two kinds of men, one black and another white; or that by the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. this matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, but has never been brought to any certain issue.' what the irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind; but i remember that he became very warm and intemperate in his expressions; upon which johnson rose, and quietly walked away. when he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he thought, by saying, 'he has a most ungainly figure, and an affectation of pomposity, unworthy of a man of genius.' johnson had not observed that i was in the room. i followed him, however, and he agreed to meet me in the evening at the mitre. i called on him, and we went thither at nine. we had a good supper, and port wine, of which he then sometimes drank a bottle. the orthodox high-church sound of the mitre,--the figure and manner of the celebrated samuel johnson,--the extraordinary power and precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what i had ever before experienced. i find in my journal the following minute of our conversation, which, though it will give but a very faint notion of what passed, is in some degree a valuable record; and it will be curious in this view, as shewing how habitual to his mind were some opinions which appear in his works. 'colley cibber, sir, was by no means a blockhead; but by arrogating to himself too much, he was in danger of losing that degree of estimation to which he was entitled. his friends gave out that he intended his birth-day odes should be bad: but that was not the case, sir; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died he shewed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be, and i made some corrections, to which he was not very willing to submit. i remember the following couplet in allusion to the king and himself: "perch'd on the eagle's soaring wing, the lowly linnet loves to sing." sir, he had heard something of the fabulous tale of the wren sitting upon the eagle's wing, and he had applied it to a linnet. cibber's familiar style, however, was better than that which whitehead has assumed. grand nonsense is insupportable. whitehead is but a little man to inscribe verses to players. 'sir, i do not think gray a first-rate poet. he has not a bold imagination, nor much command of words. the obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime. his elegy in a church-yard has a happy selection of images, but i don't like what are called his great things. his ode which begins "ruin seize thee, ruthless king, confusion on thy banners wait!" has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging into the subject all at once. but such arts as these have no merit, unless when they are original. we admire them only once; and this abruptness has nothing new in it. we have had it often before. nay, we have it in the old song of johnny armstrong: "is there ever a man in all scotland from the highest estate to the lowest degree," &c. and then, sir, "yes, there is a man in westmoreland, and johnny armstrong they do him call." there, now, you plunge at once into the subject. you have no previous narration to lead you to it. the two next lines in that ode are, i think, very good: "though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing, they mock the air with idle state."' finding him in a placid humour, and wishing to avail myself of the opportunity which i fortunately had of consulting a sage, to hear whose wisdom, i conceived in the ardour of youthful imagination, that men filled with a noble enthusiasm for intellectual improvement would gladly have resorted from distant lands;--i opened my mind to him ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, to which he was pleased to listen with great attention. i acknowledged, that though educated very strictly in the principles of religion, i had for some time been misled into a certain degree of infidelity; but that i was come now to a better way of thinking, and was fully satisfied of the truth of the christian revelation, though i was not clear as to every point considered to be orthodox. being at all times a curious examiner of the human mind, and pleased with an undisguised display of what had passed in it, he called to me with warmth, 'give me your hand; i have taken a liking to you.' he then began to descant upon the force of testimony, and the little we could know of final causes; so that the objections of, why was it so? or why was it not so? ought not to disturb us: adding, that he himself had at one period been guilty of a temporary neglect of religion, but that it was not the result of argument, but mere absence of thought. after having given credit to reports of his bigotry, i was agreeably surprized when he expressed the following very liberal sentiment, which has the additional value of obviating an objection to our holy religion, founded upon the discordant tenets of christians themselves: 'for my part, sir, i think all christians, whether papists or protestants, agree in the essential articles, and that their differences are trivial, and rather political than religious.' we talked of belief in ghosts. he said, 'sir, i make a distinction between what a man may experience by the mere strength of his imagination, and what imagination cannot possibly produce. thus, suppose i should think that i saw a form, and heard a voice cry "johnson, you are a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will certainly be punished;" my own unworthiness is so deeply impressed upon my mind, that i might imagine i thus saw and heard, and therefore i should not believe that an external communication had been made to me. but if a form should appear, and a voice should tell me that a particular man had died at a particular place, and a particular hour, a fact which i had no apprehension of, nor any means of knowing, and this fact, with all its circumstances, should afterwards be unquestionably proved, i should, in that case, be persuaded that i had supernatural intelligence imparted to me.' here it is proper, once for all, to give a true and fair statement of johnson's way of thinking upon the question, whether departed spirits are ever permitted to appear in this world, or in any way to operate upon human life. he has been ignorantly misrepresented as weakly credulous upon that subject; and, therefore, though i feel an inclination to disdain and treat with silent contempt so foolish a notion concerning my illustrious friend, yet as i find it has gained ground, it is necessary to refute it. the real fact then is, that johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such a rational respect for testimony, as to make him submit his understanding to what was authentically proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so. being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages. but so far was he from being the dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it. churchill, in his poem entitled the ghost, availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of 'pomposo,' representing him as one of the believers of the story of a ghost in cock-lane, which, in the year , had gained very general credit in london. many of my readers, i am convinced, are to this hour under an impression that johnson was thus foolishly deceived. it will therefore surprize them a good deal when they are informed upon undoubted authority, that johnson was one of those by whom the imposture was detected. the story had become so popular, that he thought it should be investigated; and in this research he was assisted by the reverend dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, the great detector of impostures; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was published in the newspapers and gentleman's magazine, and undeceived the world. our conversation proceeded. 'sir, (said he) i am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society. there is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed.' 'dr. goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an authour, and he is a very worthy man too. he has been loose in his principles, but he is coming right.' i complained to him that i had not yet acquired much knowledge, and asked his advice as to my studies. he said, 'don't talk of study now. i will give you a plan; but it will require some time to consider of it.' 'it is very good in you (i replied,) to allow me to be with you thus. had it been foretold to me some years ago that i should pass an evening with the authour of the rambler, how should i have exulted!' what i then expressed, was sincerely from the heart. he was satisfied that it was, and cordially answered, 'sir, i am glad we have met. i hope we shall pass many evenings and mornings too, together.' we finished a couple of bottles of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning. as dr. oliver goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, i shall endeavour to make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character. he was a native of ireland, and a contemporary with mr. burke at trinity college, dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity. he, however, observed to mr. malone, that 'though he made no great figure in mathematicks, which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an ode of horace into english better than any of them.' he afterwards studied physick at edinburgh, and upon the continent; and i have been informed, was enabled to pursue his travels on foot, partly by demanding at universities to enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted; so that, as i once observed to dr. johnson, he disputed his passage through europe. he then came to england, and was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a news-paper. he had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. to me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. at this time i think he had published nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally known that one dr. goldsmith was the authour of an enquiry into the present state of polite learning in europe, and of the citizen of the world, a series of letters supposed to be written from london by a chinese. no man had the art of displaying with more advantage as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he made. 'nihil quod tetigit non ornavit.' his mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil. there was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. no deep root could be struck. the oak of the forest did not grow there; but the elegant shrubbery and the fragrant parterre appeared in gay succession. it has been generally circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conversation; but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. he had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes produces a laughable confusion in expressing them. he was very much what the french call un etourdi, and from vanity and an eager desire of being conspicuous wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly without knowledge of the subject, or even without thought. his person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar aukwardly affecting the easy gentleman. those who were in any way distinguished, excited envy in him to so ridiculous an excess, that the instances of it are hardly credible. when accompanying two beautiful young ladies* with their mother on a tour in france, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him; and once at the exhibition of the fantoccini in london, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with some warmth, 'pshaw! i can do it better myself.' * these were the misses horneck, known otherwise as 'little comedy' and 'the jessamy bride.'--ed. he boasted to me at this time of the power of his pen in commanding money, which i believe was true in a certain degree, though in the instance he gave he was by no means correct. he told me that he had sold a novel for four hundred pounds. this was his vicar of wakefield. but johnson informed me, that he had made the bargain for goldsmith, and the price was sixty pounds. 'and, sir, (said he,) a sufficient price too, when it was sold; for then the fame of goldsmith had not been elevated, as it afterwards was, by his traveller; and the bookseller had such faint hopes of profit by his bargain, that he kept the manuscript by him a long time, and did not publish it till after the traveller had appeared. then, to be sure, it was accidentally worth more money. mrs. piozzi and sir john hawkins have strangely misstated the history of goldsmith's situation and johnson's friendly interference, when this novel was sold. i shall give it authentically from johnson's own exact narration:--'i received one morning a message from poor goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that i would come to him as soon as possible. i sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. i accordingly went as soon as i was drest, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. i perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of madeira and a glass before him. i put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. he then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. i looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady i should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. i brought goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill.' my next meeting with johnson was on friday the st of july, when he and i and dr. goldsmith supped together at the mitre. i was before this time pretty well acquainted with goldsmith, who was one of the brightest ornaments of the johnsonian school. goldsmith's respectful attachment to johnson was then at its height; for his own literary reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire of competition with his great master. he had increased my admiration of the goodness of johnson's heart, by incidental remarks in the course of conversation, such as, when i mentioned mr. levet, whom he entertained under his roof, 'he is poor and honest, which is recommendation enough to johnson;' and when i wondered that he was very kind to a man of whom i had heard a very bad character, 'he is now become miserable; and that insures the protection of johnson.' he talked very contemptuously of churchill's poetry, observing, that 'it had a temporary currency, only from its audacity of abuse, and being filled with living names, and that it would sink into oblivion.' i ventured to hint that he was not quite a fair judge, as churchill had attacked him violently. johnson. 'nay, sir, i am a very fair judge. he did not attack me violently till he found i did not like his poetry; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from continuing to say what i think of him, from an apprehension that it may be ascribed to resentment. no, sir, i called the fellow a blockhead at first, and i will call him a blockhead still. however, i will acknowledge that i have a better opinion of him now, than i once had; for he has shewn more fertility than i expected. to be sure, he is a tree that cannot produce good fruit: he only bears crabs. but, sir, a tree that produces a great many crabs is better than a tree which produces only a few.' let me here apologize for the imperfect manner in which i am obliged to exhibit johnson's conversation at this period. in the early part of my acquaintance with him, i was so wrapt in admiration of his extraordinary colloquial talents, and so little accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, that i found it extremely difficult to recollect and record his conversation with its genuine vigour and vivacity. in progress of time, when my mind was, as it were, strongly impregnated with the johnsonian oether, i could, with much more facility and exactness, carry in my memory and commit to paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom and wit. at this time miss williams, as she was then called, though she did not reside with him in the temple under his roof, but had lodgings in bolt-court, fleet-street, had so much of his attention, that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, however late it might be, and she always sat up for him. this, it may be fairly conjectured, was not alone a proof of his regard for her, but of his own unwillingness to go into solitude, before that unseasonable hour at which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of repose. dr. goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esoterick over an exoterick disciple of a sage of antiquity, 'i go to miss williams.' i confess, i then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud; but it was not long before i obtained the same mark of distinction. on tuesday the th of july, i again visited johnson. talking of london, he observed, 'sir, if you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. it is not in the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habitations which are crowded together, that the wonderful immensity of london consists.' on wednesday, july , he was engaged to sup with me at my lodgings in downing-street, westminster. but on the preceding night my landlord having behaved very rudely to me and some company who were with me, i had resolved not to remain another night in his house. i was exceedingly uneasy at the awkward appearance i supposed i should make to johnson and the other gentlemen whom i had invited, not being able to receive them at home, and being obliged to order supper at the mitre. i went to johnson in the morning, and talked of it as a serious distress. he laughed, and said, 'consider, sir, how insignificant this will appear a twelvemonth hence.'--were this consideration to be applied to most of the little vexatious incidents of life, by which our quiet is too often disturbed, it would prevent many painful sensations. i have tried it frequently, with good effect. 'there is nothing (continued he) in this mighty misfortune; nay, we shall be better at the mitre.' i had as my guests this evening at the mitre tavern, dr. johnson, dr. goldsmith, mr. thomas davies, mr. eccles, an irish gentleman, for whose agreeable company i was obliged to mr. davies, and the reverend mr. john ogilvie, who was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, while i, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of shewing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms johnson permitted me to live with him. goldsmith, as usual, endeavoured, with too much eagerness, to shine, and disputed very warmly with johnson against the well-known maxim of the british constitution, 'the king can do no wrong;' affirming, that 'what was morally false could not be politically true; and as the king might, in the exercise of his regal power, command and cause the doing of what was wrong, it certainly might be said, in sense and in reason, that he could do wrong.' johnson. 'sir, you are to consider, that in our constitution, according to its true principles, the king is the head; he is supreme; he is above every thing, and there is no power by which he can be tried. therefore, it is, sir, that we hold the king can do no wrong; that whatever may happen to be wrong in government may not be above our reach, by being ascribed to majesty. redress is always to be had against oppression, by punishing the immediate agents. the king, though he should command, cannot force a judge to condemn a man unjustly; therefore it is the judge whom we prosecute and punish. political institutions are formed upon the consideration of what will most frequently tend to the good of the whole, although now and then exceptions may occur. thus it is better in general that a nation should have a supreme legislative power, although it may at times be abused. and then, sir, there is this consideration, that if the abuse be enormous, nature will rise up, and claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt political system.' i mark this animated sentence with peculiar pleasure, as a noble instance of that truly dignified spirit of freedom which ever glowed in his heart, though he was charged with slavish tenets by superficial observers; because he was at all times indignant against that false patriotism, that pretended love of freedom, that unruly restlessness, which is inconsistent with the stable authority of any good government. 'bayle's dictionary is a very useful work for those to consult who love the biographical part of literature, which is what i love most.' talking of the eminent writers in queen anne's reign, he observed, 'i think dr. arbuthnot the first man among them. he was the most universal genius, being an excellent physician, a man of deep learning, and a man of much humour. mr. addison was, to be sure, a great man; his learning was not profound; but his morality, his humour, and his elegance of writing, set him very high.' mr. ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topick of his conversation the praises of his native country. he began with saying, that there was very rich land round edinburgh. goldsmith, who had studied physick there, contradicted this, very untruly, with a sneering laugh. disconcerted a little by this, mr. ogilvie then took new ground, where, i suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe; for he observed, that scotland had a great many noble wild prospects. johnson. 'i believe, sir, you have a great many. norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. but, sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to england!' this unexpected and pointed sally produced a roar of applause. after all, however, those, who admire the rude grandeur of nature, cannot deny it to caledonia. on saturday, july , i found johnson surrounded with a numerous levee, but have not preserved any part of his conversation. on the th we had another evening by ourselves at the mitre. it happening to be a very rainy night, i made some common-place observations on the relaxation of nerves and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned; adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation. johnson, who, as we have already seen, denied that the temperature of the air had any influence on the human frame, answered, with a smile of ridicule. 'why yes, sir, it is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals.' this observation of his aptly enough introduced a good supper; and i soon forgot, in johnson's company, the influence of a moist atmosphere. feeling myself now quite at ease as his companion, though i had all possible reverence for him, i expressed a regret that i could not be so easy with my father, though he was not much older than johnson, and certainly however respectable had not more learning and greater abilities to depress me. i asked him the reason of this. johnson. 'why, sir, i am a man of the world. i live in the world, and i take, in some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. your father is a judge in a remote part of the island, and all his notions are taken from the old world. besides, sir, there must always be a struggle between a father and son while one aims at power and the other at independence.' he enlarged very convincingly upon the excellence of rhyme over blank verse in english poetry. i mentioned to him that dr. adam smith, in his lectures upon composition, when i studied under him in the college of glasgow, had maintained the same opinion strenuously, and i repeated some of his arguments. johnson. 'sir, i was once in company with smith, and we did not take to each other; but had i known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he does, i should have hugged him.' 'idleness is a disease which must be combated; but i would not advise a rigid adherence to a particular plan of study. i myself have never persisted in any plan for two days together. a man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good. a young man should read five hours in a day, and so may acquire a great deal of knowledge.' to such a degree of unrestrained frankness had he now accustomed me, that in the course of this evening i talked of the numerous reflections which had been thrown out against him on account of his having accepted a pension from his present majesty. 'why, sir, (said he, with a hearty laugh,) it is a mighty foolish noise that they make.* i have accepted of a pension as a reward which has been thought due to my literary merit; and now that i have this pension, i am the same man in every respect that i have ever been; i retain the same principles. it is true, that i cannot now curse (smiling) the house of hanover; nor would it be decent for me to drink king james's health in the wine that king george gives me money to pay for. but, sir, i think that the pleasure of cursing the house of hanover, and drinking king james's health, are amply overbalanced by three hundred pounds a year.' * when i mentioned the same idle clamour to him several years afterwards, he said, with a smile, 'i wish my pension were twice as large, that they might make twice as much noise.'--boswell. there was here, most certainly, an affectation of more jacobitism than he really had. yet there is no doubt that at earlier periods he was wont often to exercise both his pleasantry and ingenuity in talking jacobitism. my much respected friend, dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, has favoured me with the following admirable instance from his lordship's own recollection. one day, when dining at old mr. langton's where miss roberts, his niece, was one of the company, johnson, with his usual complacent attention to the fair sex, took her by the hand and said, 'my dear, i hope you are a jacobite.' old mr. langton, who, though a high and steady tory, was attached to the present royal family, seemed offended, and asked johnson, with great warmth, what he could mean by putting such a question to his niece? 'why, sir, (said johnson) i meant no offence to your niece, i meant her a great compliment. a jacobite, sir, believes in the divine right of kings. he that believes in the divine right of kings believes in a divinity. a jacobite believes in the divine right of bishops. he that believes in the divine right of bishops believes in the divine authority of the christian religion. therefore, sir, a jacobite is neither an atheist nor a deist. that cannot be said of a whig; for whiggism is a negation of all principle.'* * he used to tell, with great humour, from my relation to him, the following little story of my early years, which was literally true: 'boswell, in the year , was a fine boy, wore a white cockade, and prayed for king james, till one of his uncles (general cochran) gave him a shilling on condition that he should pray for king george, which he accordingly did. so you see (says boswell) that whigs of all ages are made the same way.'--boswell. he advised me, when abroad, to be as much as i could with the professors in the universities, and with the clergy; for from their conversation i might expect the best accounts of every thing in whatever country i should be, with the additional advantage of keeping my learning alive. it will be observed, that when giving me advice as to my travels, dr. johnson did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, and pictures, and shows, and arcadian scenes. he was of lord essex's opinion, who advises his kinsman roger earl of rutland, 'rather to go an hundred miles to speak with one wise man, than five miles to see a fair town.' i described to him an impudent fellow from scotland, who affected to be a savage, and railed at all established systems. johnson. 'there is nothing surprizing in this, sir. he wants to make himself conspicuous. he would tumble in a hogstye, as long as you looked at him and called to him to come out. but let him alone, never mind him, and he'll soon give it over.' i added, that the same person maintained that there was no distinction between virtue and vice. johnson. 'why, sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying; and i see not what honour he can propose to himself from having the character of a liar. but if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons.' he recommended to me to keep a journal of my life, full and unreserved. he said it would be a very good exercise, and would yield me great satisfaction when the particulars were faded from my remembrance. i was uncommonly fortunate in having had a previous coincidence of opinion with him upon this subject, for i had kept such a journal for some time; and it was no small pleasure to me to have this to tell him, and to receive his approbation. he counselled me to keep it private, and said i might surely have a friend who would burn it in case of my death. from this habit i have been enabled to give the world so many anecdotes, which would otherwise have been lost to posterity. i mentioned that i was afraid i put into my journal too many little incidents. johnson. 'there is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man. it is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible.' next morning mr. dempster happened to call on me, and was so much struck even with the imperfect account which i gave him of dr. johnson's conversation, that to his honour be it recorded, when i complained that drinking port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some time after, he said, 'one had better be palsied at eighteen than not keep company with such a man.' on tuesday, july , i found tall sir thomas robinson sitting with johnson. sir thomas said, that the king of prussia valued himself upon three things;--upon being a hero, a musician, and an authour. johnson. 'pretty well, sir, for one man. as to his being an authour, i have not looked at his poetry; but his prose is poor stuff. he writes just as you might suppose voltaire's footboy to do, who has been his amanuensis. he has such parts as the valet might have, and about as much of the colouring of the style as might be got by transcribing his works.' when i was at ferney, i repeated this to voltaire, in order to reconcile him somewhat to johnson, whom he, in affecting the english mode of expression, had previously characterised as 'a superstitious dog;' but after hearing such a criticism on frederick the great, with whom he was then on bad terms, he exclaimed, 'an honest fellow!' mr. levet this day shewed me dr. johnson's library, which was contained in two garrets over his chambers, where lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse. i found a number of good books, but very dusty and in great confusion. the floor was strewed with manuscript leaves, in johnson's own handwriting, which i beheld with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain portions of the rambler or of rasselas. i observed an apparatus for chymical experiments, of which johnson was all his life very fond. the place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation. johnson told me, that he went up thither without mentioning it to his servant, when he wanted to study, secure from interruption; for he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'a servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a practice. a philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but few servants are such nice distinguishers. if i accustom a servant to tell a lie for me, have i not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself.' mr. temple, now vicar of st. gluvias, cornwall, who had been my intimate friend for many years, had at this time chambers in farrar's-buildings, at the bottom of inner temple-lane, which he kindly lent me upon my quitting my lodgings, he being to return to trinity hall, cambridge. i found them particularly convenient for me, as they were so near dr. johnson's. on wednesday, july , dr. johnson, mr. dempster, and my uncle dr. boswell, who happened to be now in london, supped with me at these chambers. johnson. 'pity is not natural to man. children are always cruel. savages are always cruel. pity is acquired and improved by the cultivation of reason. we may have uneasy sensations from seeing a creature in distress, without pity; for we have not pity unless we wish to relieve them. when i am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if i happen to attend when he whips his horses, i may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to pain, but i do not wish him to desist. no, sir, i wish him to drive on.' rousseau's treatise on the inequality of mankind was at this time a fashionable topick. it gave rise to an observation by mr. dempster, that the advantages of fortune and rank were nothing to a wise man, who ought to value only merit. johnson. 'if man were a savage, living in the woods by himself, this might be true; but in civilized society we all depend upon each other, and our happiness is very much owing to the good opinion of mankind. now, sir, in civilized society, external advantages make us more respected. a man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one. sir, you may analyse this, and say what is there in it? but that will avail you nothing, for it is a part of a general system. pound st. paul's church into atoms, and consider any single atom; it is, to be sure, good for nothing: but, put all these atoms together, and you have st. paul's church. so it is with human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, each of which may be shewn to be very insignificant. in civilized society, personal merit will not serve you so much as money will. sir, you may make the experiment. go into the street, and give one man a lecture on morality, and another a shilling, and see which will respect you most. if you wish only to support nature, sir william petty fixes your allowance at three pounds a year; but as times are much altered, let us call it six pounds. this sum will fill your belly, shelter you from the weather, and even get you a strong lasting coat, supposing it to be made of good bull's hide. now, sir, all beyond this is artificial, and is desired in order to obtain a greater degree of respect from our fellow-creatures. and, sir, if six hundred pounds a year procure a man more consequence, and, of course, more happiness than six pounds a year, the same proportion will hold as to six thousand, and so on as far as opulence can be carried. perhaps he who has a large fortune may not be so happy as he who has a small one; but that must proceed from other causes than from his having the large fortune: for, coeteris paribus, he who is rich in a civilized society, must be happier than he who is poor; as riches, if properly used, (and it is a man's own fault if they are not,) must be productive of the highest advantages. money, to be sure, of itself is of no use; for its only use is to part with it. rousseau, and all those who deal in paradoxes, are led away by a childish desire of novelty. when i was a boy, i used always to choose the wrong side of a debate, because most ingenious things, that is to say, most new things, could be said upon it. sir, there is nothing for which you may not muster up more plausible arguments, than those which are urged against wealth and other external advantages. why, now, there is stealing; why should it be thought a crime? when we consider by what unjust methods property has been often acquired, and that what was unjustly got it must be unjust to keep, where is the harm in one man's taking the property of another from him? besides, sir, when we consider the bad use that many people make of their property, and how much better use the thief may make of it, it may be defended as a very allowable practice. yet, sir, the experience of mankind has discovered stealing to be so very bad a thing, that they make no scruple to hang a man for it. when i was running about this town a very poor fellow, i was a great arguer for the advantages of poverty; but i was, at the same time, very sorry to be poor. sir, all the arguments which are brought to represent poverty as no evil, shew it to be evidently a great evil. you never find people labouring to convince you that you may live very happily upon a plentiful fortune.--so you hear people talking how miserable a king must be; and yet they all wish to be in his place.' it was suggested that kings must be unhappy, because they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions, easy and unreserved society. johnson. 'that is an ill-founded notion. being a king does not exclude a man from such society. great kings have always been social. the king of prussia, the only great king at present, is very social. charles the second, the last king of england who was a man of parts, was social; and our henrys and edwards were all social.' mr. dempster having endeavoured to maintain that intrinsick merit ought to make the only distinction amongst mankind. johnson. 'why, sir, mankind have found that this cannot be. how shall we determine the proportion of intrinsick merit? were that to be the only distinction amongst mankind, we should soon quarrel about the degrees of it. were all distinctions abolished, the strongest would not long acquiesce, but would endeavour to obtain a superiority by their bodily strength. but, sir, as subordination is very necessary for society, and contentions for superiority very dangerous, mankind, that is to say, all civilized nations, have settled it upon a plain invariable principle. a man is born to hereditary rank; or his being appointed to certain offices, gives him a certain rank. subordination tends greatly to human happiness. were we all upon an equality, we should have no other enjoyment than mere animal pleasure.' he took care to guard himself against any possible suspicion that his settled principles of reverence for rank and respect for wealth were at all owing to mean or interested motives; for he asserted his own independence as a literary man. 'no man (said he) who ever lived by literature, has lived more independently than i have done.' he said he had taken longer time than he needed to have done in composing his dictionary. he received our compliments upon that great work with complacency, and told us that the academia della crusca could scarcely believe that it was done by one man. at night* mr. johnson and i supped in a private room at the turk's head coffee-house, in the strand. 'i encourage this house (said he;) for the mistress of it is a good civil woman, and has not much business.' * july . 'sir, i love the acquaintance of young people; because, in the first place, i don't like to think myself growing old. in the next place, young acquaintances must last longest, if they do last; and then, sir, young men have more virtue than old men: they have more generous sentiments in every respect. i love the young dogs of this age: they have more wit and humour and knowledge of life than we had; but then the dogs are not so good scholars. sir, in my early years i read very hard. it is a sad reflection, but a true one, that i knew almost as much at eighteen as i do now. my judgement, to be sure, was not so good; but i had all the facts. i remember very well, when i was at oxford, an old gentleman said to me, "young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will find that poring upon books will be but an irksome task."' he again insisted on the duty of maintaining subordination of rank. 'sir, i would no more deprive a nobleman of his respect, than of his money. i consider myself as acting a part in the great system of society, and i do to others as i would have them to do to me. i would behave to a nobleman as i should expect he would behave to me, were i a nobleman and he sam. johnson. sir, there is one mrs. macaulay* in this town, a great republican. one day when i was at her house, i put on a very grave countenance, and said to her, "madam, i am now become a convert to your way of thinking. i am convinced that all mankind are upon an equal footing; and to give you an unquestionable proof, madam, that i am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, well-behaved fellow-citizen, your footman; i desire that he may be allowed to sit down and dine with us." i thus, sir, shewed her the absurdity of the levelling doctrine. she has never liked me since. sir, your levellers wish to level down as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling up to themselves. they would all have some people under them; why not then have some people above them?' i mentioned a certain authour who disgusted me by his forwardness, and by shewing no deference to noblemen into whose company he was admitted. johnson. 'suppose a shoemaker should claim an equality with him, as he does with a lord; how he would stare. "why, sir, do you stare? (says the shoemaker,) i do great service to society. 'tis true i am paid for doing it; but so are you, sir: and i am sorry to say it, paid better than i am, for doing something not so necessary. for mankind could do better without your books, than without my shoes." thus, sir, there would be a perpetual struggle for precedence, were there no fixed invariable rules for the distinction of rank, which creates no jealousy, as it is allowed to be accidental.' * this one mrs. macaulay was the same personage who afterwards made herself so much known as the celebrated female historian.'--boswell. he said he would go to the hebrides with me, when i returned from my travels, unless some very good companion should offer when i was absent, which he did not think probable; adding, 'there are few people to whom i take so much to as you.' and when i talked of my leaving england, he said with a very affectionate air, 'my dear boswell, i should be very unhappy at parting, did i think we were not to meet again.' i cannot too often remind my readers, that although such instances of his kindness are doubtless very flattering to me; yet i hope my recording them will be ascribed to a better motive than to vanity; for they afford unquestionable evidence of his tenderness and complacency, which some, while they were forced to acknowledge his great powers, have been so strenuous to deny. he maintained that a boy at school was the happiest of human beings. i supported a different opinion, from which i have never yet varied, that a man is happier; and i enlarged upon the anxiety and sufferings which are endured at school. johnson. 'ah! sir, a boy's being flogged is not so severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him.' on tuesday, july , i found mr. johnson alone. it was a very wet day, and i again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather. johnson. 'sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for man lives in air, as a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere press heavy from above, there is an equal resistance from below. to be sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good: but, sir, a smith or a taylor, whose work is within doors, will surely do as much in rainy weather, as in fair. some very delicate frames, indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.' we talked of the education of children; and i asked him what he thought was best to teach them first. johnson. 'sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. sir, while you are considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both.' on thursday, july , we again supped in private at the turk's head coffee-house. johnson. 'swift has a higher reputation than he deserves. his excellence is strong sense; for his humour, though very well, is not remarkably good. i doubt whether the tale of a tub be his; for he never owned it, and it is much above his usual manner.' 'thomson, i think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers. every thing appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit. he could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical eye.' 'as to the christian religion, sir, besides the strong evidence which we have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the number of great men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration of the question. grotius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to examine evidence, and he was convinced. grotius was not a recluse, but a man of the world, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion. sir isaac newton set out an infidel, and came to be a very firm believer.' he this evening recommended to me to perambulate spain. i said it would amuse him to get a letter from me dated at salamancha. johnson. 'i love the university of salamancha; for when the spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their conquering america, the university of salamancha gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful.' he spoke this with great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in his london, against spanish encroachment. i expressed my opinion of my friend derrick as but a poor writer. johnson. 'to be sure, sir, he is; but you are to consider that his being a literary man has got for him all that he has. it has made him king of bath. sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer. had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in the streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.' in justice however, to the memory of mr. derrick, who was my first tutor in the ways of london, and shewed me the town in all its variety of departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which dr. johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an editor: 'sir, i have often said, that if derrick's letters had been written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought very pretty letters.' and, 'i sent derrick to dryden's relations to gather materials for his life; and i believe he got all that i myself should have got.' johnson said once to me, 'sir, i honour derrick for his presence of mind. one night, when floyd, another poor authour, was wandering about the streets in the night, he found derrick fast asleep upon a bulk; upon being suddenly waked, derrick started up, "my dear floyd, i am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to my lodgings?"' i again begged his advice as to my method of study at utrecht. 'come, (said he) let us make a day of it. let us go down to greenwich and dine, and talk of it there.' the following saturday was fixed for this excursion. as we walked along the strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. 'no, no, my girl, (said johnson) it won't do.' he, however, did not treat her with harshness, and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit commerce between the sexes. on saturday, july , dr. johnson and i took a sculler at the temple-stairs, and set out for greenwich. i asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the greek and latin languages an essential requisite to a good education. johnson. 'most certainly, sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. nay, sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it.' 'and yet, (said i) people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.' johnson. 'why, sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning, as if he could sing the song of orpheus to the argonauts, who were the first sailors.' he then called to the boy, 'what would you give, my lad, to know about the argonauts?' 'sir, (said the boy,) i would give what i have.' johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare. dr. johnson then turning to me, 'sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge.' we landed at the old swan, and walked to billingsgate, where we took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver thames. it was a very fine day. we were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the river. i talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called methodists have. johnson. 'sir, it is owing to their expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of sense. to insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression. sir, when your scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion will soon decay in that country.' let this observation, as johnson meant it, be ever remembered. i was much pleased to find myself with johnson at greenwich, which he celebrates in his london as a favourite scene. i had the poem in my pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm: 'on thames's banks in silent thought we stood: where greenwich smiles upon the silver flood: pleas'd with the seat which gave eliza birth, we kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.' afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me his advice as to a course of study. we walked in the evening in greenwich park. he asked me, i suppose, by way of trying my disposition, 'is not this very fine?' having no exquisite relish of the beauties of nature, and being more delighted with 'the busy hum of men,' i answered, 'yes, sir; but not equal to fleet-street.' johnson. 'you are right, sir.' i am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. let me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable baronet in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a may evening in the country, observed, 'this may be very well; but, for my part, i prefer the smell of a flambeau at the playhouse.' we staid so long at greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return to london, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night air was so cold that it made me shiver. i was the more sensible of it from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in my journal what i thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which, during the first part of my acquaintance with johnson, i frequently made. i remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being much incommoded in the day time. johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold, scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying, 'why do you shiver?' sir william scott, of the commons, told me, that when he complained of a head-ache in the post-chaise, as they were travelling together to scotland, johnson treated him in the same manner: 'at your age, sir, i had no head-ache.' we concluded the day at the turk's head coffee-house very socially. he was pleased to listen to a particular account which i gave him of my family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population of which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom the proprietor was placed by providence. he took delight in hearing my description of the romantick seat of my ancestors. 'i must be there, sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not a room in it remaining, we will build one.' i was highly flattered, but could scarcely indulge a hope that auchinleck would indeed be honoured by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was, in his journey to the western islands. after we had again talked of my setting out for holland, he said, 'i must see thee out of england; i will accompany you to harwich.' i could not find words to express what i felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affectionate regard. next day, sunday, july , i told him i had been that morning at a meeting of the people called quakers, where i had heard a woman preach. johnson. 'sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. it is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.' on tuesday, august (the day of my departure from london having been fixed for the th,) dr. johnson did me the honour to pass a part of the morning with me at my chambers. he said, that 'he always felt an inclination to do nothing.' i observed, that it was strange to think that the most indolent man in britain had written the most laborious work, the english dictionary. i had now made good my title to be a privileged man, and was carried by him in the evening to drink tea with miss williams, whom, though under the misfortune of having lost her sight, i found to be agreeable in conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had long lived with johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk. after tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees. there we sauntered a considerable time; and i complained to him that my love of london and of his company was such, that i shrunk almost from the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much desired by young men. he roused me by manly and spirited conversation. he advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to greek an hour every day; and when i was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind. on wednesday, august , we had our last social evening at the turk's head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts. i had the misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally. i mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings. johnson. 'what do they make me say, sir?' boswell. 'why, sir, as an instance very strange indeed, (laughing heartily as i spoke,) david hume told me, you said that you would stand before a battery of cannon, to restore the convocation to its full powers.' little did i apprehend that he had actually said this: but i was soon convinced of my errour; for, with a determined look, he thundered out 'and would i not, sir? shall the presbyterian kirk of scotland have its general assembly, and the church of england be denied its convocation?' he was walking up and down the room while i told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this explosion of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his eyes flashed with indignation. i bowed to the storm, and diverted the force of it, by leading him to expatiate on the influence which religion derived from maintaining the church with great external respectability. on friday, august , we set out early in the morning in the harwich stage coach. a fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young dutchman, seemed the most inclined among us to conversation. at the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children; and particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle. johnson. 'i wish, madam, you would educate me too; for i have been an idle fellow all my life.' 'i am sure, sir, (said she) you have not been idle.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there (pointing to me,) has been idle. he was idle at edinburgh. his father sent him to glasgow, where he continued to be idle. he then came to london, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to utrecht, where he will be as idle as ever. i asked him privately how he could expose me so. johnson. 'poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about you, and will think of it no more.' in the afternoon the gentlewoman talked violently against the roman catholicks, and of the horrours of the inquisition. to the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself, who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be checked on its first appearance; that the civil power should unite with the church in punishing those who dared to attack the established religion, and that such only were punished by the inquisition.' he had in his pocket pomponius mela de situ orbis, in which he read occasionally, and seemed very intent upon ancient geography. though by no means niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having observed at one of the stages that i ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give only six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what i had done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. this was a just reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand. at supper this night* he talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction. 'some people (said he,) have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat. for my part, i mind my belly very studiously, and very carefully; for i look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else.' he now appeared to me jean bull philosophe, and he was, for the moment, not only serious but vehement. yet i have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates; and the th number of his rambler is a masterly essay against gulosity. his practice, indeed, i must acknowledge, may be considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this subject; for i never knew any man who relished good eating more than he did. when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. to those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command. but it must be owned, that johnson, though he could be rigidly abstemious, was not a temperate man either in eating or drinking. he could refrain, but he could not use moderately. he told me, that he had fasted two days without inconvenience, and that he had never been hungry but once. they who beheld with wonder how much he eat upon all occasions when his dinner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger; and not only was he remarkable for the extraordinary quantity which he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery. he used to descant critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had liked. i remember, when he was in scotland, his praising 'gordon's palates,' (a dish of palates at the honourable alexander gordon's) with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to more important subjects. 'as for maclaurin's imitation of a made dish, it was a wretched attempt.' he about the same time was so much displeased with the performances of a nobleman's french cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, 'i'd throw such a rascal into the river, and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was to sup, by the following manifesto of his skill: 'i, madam, who live at a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery, than any person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, madam, in trying by a wider range, i can more exquisitely judge.' when invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not prepared for him. i have heard him say on such an occasion, 'this was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was not a dinner to ask a man to.' on the other hand, he was wont to express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained quite to his mind. one day when we had dined with his neighbour and landlord in bolt-court, mr. allen, the printer, whose old housekeeper had studied his taste in every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'sir, we could not have had a better dinner had there been a synod of cooks.' * at colchester.--ed. while we were left by ourselves, after the dutchman had gone to bed, dr. johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and practised. he disapproved of it; and said, 'i never considered whether i should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the time, have its course.' i teazed him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. a moth having fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this little incident to admonish me; saying, with a sly look, and in a solemn but quiet tone, 'that creature was its own tormentor, and i believe its name was boswell.' next day we got to harwich to dinner; and my passage in the packet-boat to helvoetsluys being secured, and my baggage put on board, we dined at our inn by ourselves. i happened to say it would be terrible if he should not find a speedy opportunity of returning to london, and be confined to so dull a place. johnson. 'don't sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters. it would not be terrible, though i were to be detained some time here.' we went and looked at the church, and having gone into it and walked up to the altar, johnson, whose piety was constant and fervent, sent me to my knees, saying, 'now that you are going to leave your native country, recommend yourself to the protection of your creator and redeemer.' after we came out of the church, we stood talking for some time together of bishop berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence of matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. i observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is impossible to refute it. i never shall forget the alacrity with which johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large stone, till he rebounded from it, 'i refute it thus.' my revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. i said, 'i hope, sir, you will not forget me in my ahsence.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is more likely you should forget me, than that i should forget you.' as the vessel put out to sea, i kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestick frame in his usual manner: and at last i perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared. : aetat. .]--early in johnson paid a visit to the langton family, at their seat of langton, in lincolnshire, where he passed some time, much to his satisfaction. his friend bennet langton, it will not he doubted, did every thing in his power to make the place agreeable to so illustrious a guest; and the elder mr. langton and his lady, being fully capable of understanding his value, were not wanting in attention. johnson, during his stay at langton, had the advantage of a good library, and saw several gentlemen of the neighbourhood. i have obtained from mr. langton the following particulars of this period. he was now fully convinced that he could not have been satisfied with a country living; for, talking of a respectable clergyman in lincolnshire, he observed, 'this man, sir, fills up the duties of his life well. i approve of him, but could not imitate him.' to a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from blame for neglecting social attention to worthy neighbours, by saying, 'i would go to them if it would do them any good,' he said, 'what good, madam, do you expect to have in your power to do them? it is shewing them respect, and that is doing them good.' so socially accommodating was he, that once when mr. langton and he were driving together in a coach, and mr. langton complained of being sick, he insisted that they should go out and sit on the back of it in the open air, which they did. and being sensible how strange the appearance must be, observed, that a countryman whom they saw in a field, would probably be thinking, 'if these two madmen should come down, what would become of me?' soon after his return to london, which was in february, was founded that club which existed long without a name, but at mr. garrick's funeral became distinguished by the title of the literary club. sir joshua reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer of it, to which johnson acceded, and the original members were, sir joshua reynolds, dr. johnson, mr. edmund burke, dr. nugent, mr. beauclerk, mr. langton, dr. goldsmith, mr. chamier, and sir john hawkins. they met at the turk's head, in gerrard-street, soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour. this club has been gradually increased to its present number, thirty-five: after about ten years, instead of supping weekly, it was resolved to dine together once a fortnight during the meeting of parliament. their original tavern having been converted into a private house, they moved first to prince's in sackville-street, then to le telier's in dover-street, and now meet at parsloe's, st. james's-street. between the time of its formation, and the time at which this work is passing through the press, (june ,) the following persons, now dead, were members of it: mr. dunning, (afterwards lord ashburton,) mr. samuel dyer, mr. garrick, dr. shipley bishop of st. asaph, mr. vesey, mr. thomas warton and dr. adam smith. the present members are,--mr. burke, mr. langton, lord charlemont, sir robert chambers, dr. percy bishop of dromore, dr. barnard bishop of killaloc, dr. marlay bishop of clonfert, mr. fox, dr. george fordyce, sir william scott, sir joseph banks, sir charles bunbury, mr. windham of norfolk, mr. sheridan, mr. gibbon, sir william jones, mr. colman, mr. steevens, dr. burney, dr. joseph warton, mr. malone, lord ossory, lord spencer, lord lucan, lord palmerston, lord eliot, lord macartney, mr. richard burke junior, sir william hamilton, dr. warren, mr. courtenay, dr. hinchcliffe bishop of peterborough, the duke of leeds, dr. douglas bishop of salisbury, and the writer of this account. not very long after the institution of our club, sir joshua reynolds was speaking of it to garrick. 'i like it much, (said he), i think i shall be of you.' when sir joshua mentioned this to dr. johnson, he was much displeased with the actor's conceit. 'he'll be of us, (said johnson) how does he know we will permit him? the first duke in england has no right to hold such language.' however, when garrick was regularly proposed some time afterwards, johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our meetings to the time of his death. it was johnson's custom to observe certain days with a pious abstraction; viz. new-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, good friday, easter-day, and his own birth-day. he this year says:--'i have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that i can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. i have done nothing. the need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. o god, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' about this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the hypochondriack disorder, which was ever lurking about him. he was so ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely averse to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. dr. adams told me, that as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that he found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking to himself, and restlessly walking from room to room. he then used this emphatical expression of the misery which he felt: 'i would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits.' talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since i knew him. i was certain that he was frequently uttering pious ejaculations; for fragments of the lord's prayer have been distinctly overheard. his friend mr. thomas davies, of whom churchill says, 'that davies hath a very pretty wife,' when dr. johnson muttered 'lead us not into temptation,' used with waggish and gallant humour to whisper mrs. davies, 'you, my dear, are the cause of this.' he had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever ventured to ask an explanation. it appeared to me some superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon his reason to disentangle him. this was his anxious care to go out or in at a door or passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (i am not certain which,) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came close to the door or passage. thus i conjecture: for i have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earnestness; and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, i have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his companion. a strange instance of something of this nature, even when on horseback, happened when he was in the isle of sky. sir joshua reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than cross a particular alley in leicester-fields; but this sir joshua imputed to his having had some disagreeable recollection associated with it. that the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and made very observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that while talking or even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly held his head to one side towards his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards and forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. in the intervals of articulating he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, sometimes making his tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath, too, too, too: all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with a smile. generally when he had concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a whale. this i supposed was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponent fly like chaff before the wind. : aetat. .]--trinity college, dublin, at this time surprised johnson with a spontaneous compliment of the highest academical honours, by creating him doctor of laws. he appears this year to have been seized with a temporary fit of ambition, for he had thoughts both of studying law and of engaging in politics. his 'prayer before the study of law' is truly admirable:-- 'sept. , . 'almighty god, the giver of wisdom, without whose help resolutions are vain, without whose blessing study is ineffectual; enable me, if it be thy will, to attain such knowledge as may qualify me to direct the doubtful, and instruct the ignorant; to prevent wrongs and terminate contentions; and grant that i may use that knowledge which i shall attain, to thy glory and my own salvation, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' this year was distinguished by his being introduced into the family of mr. thrale, one of the most eminent brewers in england, and member of parliament for the borough of southwark. foreigners are not a little amazed when they hear of brewers, distillers, and men in similar departments of trade, held forth as persons of considerable consequence. in this great commercial country it is natural that a situation which produces much wealth should be considered as very respectable; and, no doubt, honest industry is entitled to esteem. but, perhaps, the too rapid advance of men of low extraction tends to lessen the value of that distinction by birth and gentility, which has ever been found beneficial to the grand scheme of subordination. johnson used to give this account of the rise of mr. thrale's father: 'he worked at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great brewery, which afterwards was his own. the proprietor of it had an only daughter, who was married to a nobleman. it was not fit that a peer should continue the business. on the old man's death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. to find a purchaser for so large a property was a difficult matter; and, after some time, it was suggested, that it would be adviseable to treat with thrale, a sensible, active, honest man, who had been employed in the house, and to transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security being taken upon the property. this was accordingly settled. in eleven years thrale paid the purchase-money. he acquired a large fortune, and lived to be member of parliament for southwark. but what was most remarkable was the liberality with which he used his riches. he gave his son and daughters the best education. the esteem which his good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had married his master's daughter, made him be treated with much attention; and his son, both at school and at the university of oxford, associated with young men of the first rank. his allowance from his father, after he left college, was splendid; no less than a thousand a year. this, in a man who had risen as old thrale did, was a very extraordinary instance of generosity. he used to say, "if this young dog does not find so much after i am gone as he expects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in my own time."' the son, though in affluent circumstances, had good sense enough to carry on his father's trade, which was of such extent, that i remember he once told me, he would not quit it for an annuity of ten thousand a year; 'not (said he,) that i get ten thousand a year by it, but it is an estate to a family.' having left daughters only, the property was sold for the immense sum of one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds; a magnificent proof of what may be done by fair trade in no long period of time. mr. thrale had married miss hesther lynch salusbury, of good welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by education. that johnson's introduction into mr. thrale's family, which contributed so much to the happiness of his life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is very probable and a general supposition: but it is not the truth. mr. murphy, who was intimate with mr. thrale, having spoken very highly of dr. johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted. this being mentioned to johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner at thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception, both by mr. and mrs. thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to their house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house in southwark, and in their villa at streatham. johnson had a very sincere esteem for mr. thrale, as a man of excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in trade, of a sound understanding, and of manners such as presented the character of a plain independent english squire. as this family will frequently be mentioned in the course of the following pages, and as a false notion has prevailed that mr. thrale was inferiour, and in some degree insignificant, compared with mrs. thrale, it may be proper to give a true state of the case from the authority of johnson himself in his own words. 'i know no man, (said he,) who is more master of his wife and family than thrale. if he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. it is a great mistake to suppose that she is above him in literary attainments. she is more flippant; but he has ten times her learning: he is a regular scholar; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower forms.' my readers may naturally wish for some representation of the figures of this couple. mr. thrale was tall, well proportioned, and stately. as for madam, or my mistress, by which epithets johnson used to mention mrs. thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk. she has herself given us a lively view of the idea which johnson had of her person, on her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown: 'you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in every way. what! have not all insects gay colours?' mr. thrale gave his wife a liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and in the mode of entertaining them. he understood and valued johnson, without remission, from their first acquaintance to the day of his death. mrs. thrale was enchanted with johnson's conversation, for its own sake, and had also a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with the attention of so celebrated a man. nothing could be more fortunate for johnson than this connection. he had at mr. thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened by association with an agreeable and well-ordered family. he was treated with the utmost respect, and even affection. the vivacity of mrs. thrale's literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even when they were alone. but this was not often the case; for he found here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoyment: the society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way, who were assembled in numerous companies, called forth his wonderful powers, and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible. in the october of this year he at length gave to the world his edition of shakspeare, which, if it had no other merit but that of producing his preface, in which the excellencies and defects of that immortal bard are displayed with a masterly hand, the nation would have had no reason to complain. in and it should seem that dr. johnson was so busily employed with his edition of shakspeare, as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or, indeed, even for private correspondence. he did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for which it will appear that he afterwards apologised. he was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends, and others, in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly improving their dedications. in that courtly species of composition no man excelled dr. johnson. though the loftiness of his mind prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person, he wrote a very great number of dedications for others. some of these, the persons who were favoured with them are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as i think, that they might be suspected of having received larger assistance; and some, after all the diligence i have bestowed, have escaped my enquiries. he told me, a great many years ago, 'he believed he had dedicated to all the royal family round;' and it was indifferent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent. he once dedicated some musick for the german flute to edward, duke of york. in writing dedications for others, he considered himself as by no means speaking his own sentiments. i returned to london in february,* and found dr. johnson in a good house in johnson's court, fleet-street, in which he had accommodated miss williams with an apartment on the ground floor, while mr. levet occupied his post in the garret: his faithful francis was still attending upon him. he received me with much kindness. the fragments of our first conversation, which i have preserved, are these: i told him that voltaire, in a conversation with me, had distinguished pope and dryden thus:--'pope drives a handsome chariot, with a couple of neat trim nags; dryden a coach, and six stately horses.' johnson. 'why, sir, the truth is, they both drive coaches and six; but dryden's horses are either galloping or stumbling: pope's go at a steady even trot.' he said of goldsmith's traveller, which had been published in my absence, 'there has not been so fine a poem since pope's time.' * . talking of education, 'people have now a-days, (said he,) got a strange opinion that every thing should be taught by lectures. now, i cannot see that lectures can do so much good as reading the books from which the lectures are taken. i know nothing that can be best taught by lectures, except where experiments are to be shewn. you may teach chymistry by lectures.--you might teach making of shoes by lectures!' at night i supped with him at the mitre tavern, that we might renew our social intimacy at the original place of meeting. but there was now a considerable difference in his way of living. having had an illness, in which he was advised to leave off wine, he had, from that period, continued to abstain from it, and drank only water, or lemonade. i told him that a foreign friend of his, whom i had met with abroad, was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity, that he treated the hopes of immortality with brutal levity; and said, 'as man dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' johnson. 'if he dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' i added, that this man said to me, 'i hate mankind, for i think myself one of the best of them, and i know how bad i am.' johnson. 'sir, he must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks himself one of the best of men; for none of his friends think him so.'--he said, 'no honest man could be a deist; for no man could be so after a fair examination of the proofs of christianity.' i named hume. johnson. 'no, sir; hume owned to a clergyman in the bishoprick of durham, that he had never read the new testament with attention.' i mentioned hume's notion, that all who are happy are equally happy; a little miss with a new gown at a dancing school ball, a general at the head of a victorious army, and an orator, after having made an eloquent speech in a great assembly. johnson. 'sir, that all who are happy, are equally happy, is not true. a peasant and a philosopher may be equally satisfied, but not equally happy. happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness. a peasant has not capacity for having equal happiness with a philosopher.' dr. johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me 'you have now lived five-and-twenty years, and you have employed them well.' 'alas, sir, (said i,) i fear not. do i know history? do i know mathematicks? do i know law?' johnson. 'why, sir, though you may know no science so well as to be able to teach it, and no profession so well as to be able to follow it, your general mass of knowledge of books and men renders you very capable to make yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for any profession.' i mentioned that a gay friend had advised me against being a lawyer, because i should be excelled by plodding block-heads. johnson. 'why, sir, in the formulary and statutory part of law, a plodding block-head may excel; but in the ingenious and rational part of it a plodding block-head can never excel.' i talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, by courting great men, and asked him whether he had ever submitted to it. johnson. 'why, sir, i never was near enough to great men, to court them. you may be prudently attached to great men and yet independent. you are not to do what you think wrong; and, sir, you are to calculate, and not pay too dear for what you get. you must not give a shilling's worth of court for six-pence worth of good. but if you can get a shilling's worth of good for six-pence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court.' i talked to him a great deal of what i had seen in corsica, and of my intention to publish an account of it. he encouraged me by saying, 'you cannot go to the bottom of the subject; but all that you tell us will be new to us. give us as many anecdotes as you can.' our next meeting at the mitre was on saturday the th of february, when i presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the reverend mr. temple, then of cambridge. i having mentioned that i had passed some time with rousseau in his wild retreat, and having quoted some remark made by mr. wilkes, with whom i had spent many pleasant hours in italy, johnson said (sarcastically,) 'it seems, sir, you have kept very good company abroad, rousseau and wilkes!' thinking it enough to defend one at a time, i said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, 'my dear sir, you don't call rousseau bad company. do you really think him a bad man?' johnson. 'sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, i don't talk with you. if you mean to be serious, i think him one of the worst of men; a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. three or four nations have expelled him; and it is a shame that he is protected in this country.' boswell. 'i don't deny, sir, but that his novel may, perhaps, do harm; but i cannot think his intention was bad.' johnson. 'sir, that will not do. we cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. you may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the judge will order you to be hanged. an alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. rousseau, sir, is a very bad man. i would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the old bailey these many years. yes, i should like to have him work in the plantations.' boswell. 'sir, do you think him as bad a man as voltaire?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them.' on his favourite subject of subordination, johnson said, 'so far is it from being true that men are naturally equal, that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.' i mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console ourselves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves. this, i observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. johnson. 'why, to be sure, sir, there are; but they don't know it. there is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible.' as my stay in london at this time was very short, i had not many opportunities of being with dr. johnson; but i felt my veneration for him in no degree lessened, by my having seen multoram hominum mores et urbes. on the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with many of the most celebrated persons of other countries, my admiration of his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed. the roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners, was more striking to me now, from my having been accustomed to the studied smooth complying habits of the continent; and i clearly recognised in him, not without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good principles. one evening when a young gentleman teazed him with an account of the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would not believe the scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not invented, 'why, foolish fellow, (said johnson,) has he any better authority for almost every thing that he believes?' boswell. 'then the vulgar, sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' johnson. 'to be sure, sir. the vulgar are the children of the state, and must be taught like children.' boswell. 'then, sir, a poor turk must be a mahometan, just as a poor englishman must be a christian?' johnson. 'why, yes, sir; and what then? this now is such stuff as i used to talk to my mother, when i first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.' another evening dr. goldsmith and i called on him, with the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the mitre. we found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. 'come then, (said goldsmith,) we will not go to the mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man with us.' johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which goldsmith and i partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat by us. goldsmith. 'i think, mr. johnson, you don't go near the theatres now. you give yourself no more concern about a new play, than if you had never had any thing to do with the stage.' johnson. 'why, sir, our tastes greatly alter. the lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man's whore.' goldsmith. 'nay, sir, but your muse was not a whore.' johnson. 'sir, i do not think she was. but as we advance in the journey of life, we drop some of the things which have pleased us; whether it be that we are fatigued and don't choose to carry so many things any farther, or that we find other things which we like better.' boswell. 'but, sir, why don't you give us something in some other way?' goldsmith. 'ay, sir, we have a claim upon you.' johnson. no, sir, i am not obliged to do any more. no man is obliged to do as much as he can do. a man is to have part of his life to himself. if a soldier has fought a good many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires to ease and tranquillity. a physician, who has practised long in a great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, and takes less practice. now, sir, the good i can do by my conversation bears the same proportion to the good i can do by my writings, that the practice of a physician, retired to a small town, does to his practice in a great city.' boswell. 'but i wonder, sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.' johnson. 'sir, you may wonder.' he talked of making verses, and observed, 'the great difficulty is to know when you have made good ones. when composing, i have generally had them in my mind, perhaps fifty at a time, walking up and down in my room; and then i have written them down, and often, from laziness, have written only half lines. i have written a hundred lines in a day. i remember i wrote a hundred lines of the vanity of human wishes in a day. doctor, (turning to goldsmith,) i am not quite idle; i made one line t'other day; but i made no more.' goldsmith. 'let us hear it; we'll put a bad one to it.' johnson. 'no, sir, i have forgot it.' 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire 'dear sir,--what your friends have done, that from your departure till now nothing has been heard of you, none of us are able to inform the rest; but as we are all neglected alike, no one thinks himself entitled to the privilege of complaint. 'i should have known nothing of you or of langton, from the time that dear miss langton left us, had not i met mr. simpson, of lincoln, one day in the street, by whom i was informed that mr. langton, your mamma, and yourself, had been all ill, but that you were all recovered. 'that sickness should suspend your correspondence, i did not wonder; but hoped that it would be renewed at your recovery. 'since you will not inform us where you are, or how you live, i know not whether you desire to know any thing of us. however, i will tell you that the club subsists; but we have the loss of burke's company since he has been engaged in publick business, in which he has gained more reputation than perhaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained before. he made two speeches in the house for repealing the stamp-act, which were publickly commended by mr. pitt, and have filled the town with wonder. 'burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to attain civil greatness. i am grown greater too, for i have maintained the news-papers these many weeks; and what is greater still, i have risen every morning since new-year's day, at about eight; when i was up, i have indeed done but little; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain for so many hours more, the consciousness of being. 'i wish you were in my new study; i am now writing the first letter in it. i think it looks very pretty about me. 'dyer is constant at the club; hawkins is remiss; i am not over diligent. dr. nugent, dr. goldsmith, and mr. reynolds, are very constant. mr. lye is printing his saxon and gothick dictionary; all the club subscribes. 'you will pay my respects to all my lincolnshire friends. i am, dear sir, most affectionately your's, 'march , . 'sam. johnson.' johnson's-court, fleet-street.' the honourable thomas hervey and his lady having unhappily disagreed, and being about to separate, johnson interfered as their friend, and wrote him a letter of expostulation, which i have not been able to find; but the substance of it is ascertained by a letter to johnson in answer to it, which mr. hervey printed. the occasion of this correspondence between dr. johnson and mr. harvey, was thus related to me by mr. beauclerk. 'tom harvey had a great liking for johnson, and in his will had left him a legacy of fifty pounds. one day he said to me, "johnson may want this money now, more than afterwards. i have a mind to give it him directly. will you be so good as to carry a fifty pound note from me to him?" this i positively refused to do, as he might, perhaps, have knocked me down for insulting him, and have afterwards put the note in his pocket. but i said, if harvey would write him a letter, and enclose a fifty pound note, i should take care to deliver it. he accordingly did write him a letter, mentioning that he was only paying a legacy a little sooner. to his letter he added, "p. s. i am going to part with my wife." johnson then wrote to him, saying nothing of the note, but remonstrating with him against parting with his wife.' in february, , there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his friends. this was his being honoured by a private conversation with his majesty, in the library at the queen's house. he had frequently visited those splendid rooms and noble collection of books, which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the king had employed. mr. barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place; so that he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours. his majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when dr. johnson came next to the library. accordingly, the next time that johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, mr. barnard stole round to the apartment where the king was, and, in obedience to his majesty's commands, mentioned that dr. johnson was then in the library. his majesty said he was at leisure, and would go to him; upon which mr. barnard took one of the candles that stood on the king's table, and lighted his majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his majesty had the key. being entered, mr. barnard stepped forward hastily to dr. johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, 'sir, here is the king.' johnson started up, and stood still. his majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy. his majesty began by observing, that he understood he came sometimes to the library; and then mentioning his having heard that the doctor had been lately at oxford, asked him if he was not fond of going thither. to which johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. the king then asked him what they were doing at oxford. johnson answered, he could not much commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time printing polybius. he was then asked whether there were better libraries at oxford or cambridge. he answered, he believed the bodleian was larger than any they had at cambridge; at the same time adding, 'i hope, whether we have more books or not than they have at cambridge, we shall make as good use of them as they do.' being asked whether all-souls or christ-church library was the largest, he answered, 'all-souls library is the largest we have, except the bodleian.' 'aye, (said the king,) that is the publick library.' his majesty enquired if he was then writing any thing. he answered, he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge. the king, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours, then said 'i do not think you borrow much from any body.' johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a writer. 'i should have thought so too, (said the king,) if you had not written so well.'--johnson observed to me, upon this, that 'no man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. it was decisive.' when asked by another friend, at sir joshua reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, 'no, sir. when the king had said it, it was to be so. it was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign.' perhaps no man who had spent his whole life in courts could have shewn a more nice and dignified sense of true politeness, than johnson did in this instance. his majesty having observed to him that he supposed he must have read a great deal; johnson answered, that he thought more than he read; that he had read a great deal in the early part of his life, but having fallen into ill health, he had not been able to read much, compared with others: for instance, he said he had not read much, compared with dr. warburton. upon which the king said, that he heard dr. warburton was a man of such general knowledge, that you could scarce talk with him on any subject on which he was not qualified to speak; and that his learning resembled garrick's acting, in its universality. his majesty then talked of the controversy between warburton and lowth, which he seemed to have read, and asked johnson what he thought of it. johnson answered, 'warburton has most general, most scholastick learning; lowth is the more correct scholar. i do not know which of them calls names best.' the king was pleased to say he was of the same opinion; adding, 'you do not think, then, dr. johnson, that there was much argument in the case.' johnson said, he did not think there was. 'why truly, (said the king,) when once it comes to calling names, argument is pretty well at an end.' his majesty then asked him what he thought of lord lyttelton's history, which was then just published. johnson said, he thought his style pretty good, but that he had blamed henry the second rather too much. 'why, (said the king,) they seldom do these things by halves.' 'no, sir, (answered johnson,) not to kings.' but fearing to be misunderstood, he proceeded to explain himself; and immediately subjoined, 'that for those who spoke worse of kings than they deserved, he could find no excuse; but that he could more easily conceive how some might speak better of them than they deserved, without any ill intention; for, as kings had much in their power to give, those who were favoured by them would frequently, from gratitude, exaggerate their praises; and as this proceeded from a good motive, it was certainly excusable, as far as errour could be excusable.' the king then asked him what he thought of dr. hill. johnson answered, that he was an ingenious man, but had no veracity; and immediately mentioned, as an instance of it, an assertion of that writer, that he had seen objects magnified to a much greater degree by using three or four microscopes at a time, than by using one. 'now, (added johnson,) every one acquainted with microscopes knows, that the more of them he looks through, the less the object will appear.' 'why, (replied the king,) this is not only telling an untruth, but telling it clumsily; for, if that be the case, every one who can look through a microscope will be able to detect him.' 'i now, (said johnson to his friends, when relating what had passed) began to consider that i was depreciating this man in the estimation of his sovereign, and thought it was time for me to say something that might be more favourable.' he added, therefore, that dr. hill was, notwithstanding, a very curious observer; and if he would have been contented to tell the world no more than he knew, he might have been a very considerable man, and needed not to have recourse to such mean expedients to raise his reputation. the king then talked of literary journals, mentioned particularly the journal des savans, and asked johnson if it was well done. johnson said, it was formerly very well done, and gave some account of the persons who began it, and carried it on for some years; enlarging, at the same time, on the nature and use of such works. the king asked him if it was well done now. johnson answered, he had no reason to think that it was. the king then asked him if there were any other literary journals published in this kingdom, except the monthly and critical reviews; and on being answered there were no other, his majesty asked which of them was the best: johnson answered, that the monthly review was done with most care, the critical upon the best principles; adding that the authours of the monthly review were enemies to the church. this the king said he was sorry to hear. the conversation next turned on the philosophical transactions, when johnson observed, that they had now a better method of arranging their materials than formerly. 'aye, (said the king,) they are obliged to dr. johnson for that;' for his majesty had heard and remembered the circumstance, which johnson himself had forgot. his majesty expressed a desire to have the literary biography of this country ably executed, and proposed to dr. johnson to undertake it. johnson signified his readiness to comply with his majesty's wishes. during the whole of this interview, johnson talked to his majesty with profound respect, but still in his firm manly manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the drawing-room. after the king withdrew, johnson shewed himself highly pleased with his majesty's conversation, and gracious behaviour. he said to mr. barnard, 'sir, they may talk of the king as they will; but he is the finest gentleman i have ever seen.' and he afterwards observed to mr. langton, 'sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose lewis the fourteenth or charles the second.' at sir joshua reynolds's, where a circle of johnson's friends was collected round him to hear his account of this memorable conversation, dr. joseph warton, in his frank and lively manner, was very active in pressing him to mention the particulars. 'come now, sir, this is an interesting matter; do favour us with it.' johnson, with great good humour, complied. he told them, 'i found his majesty wished i should talk, and i made it my business to talk. i find it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. in the first place, a man cannot be in a passion--.' here some question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of advantage, from being in a situation, where the powers of the mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion, and tempered by reverential awe. during all the time in which dr. johnson was employed in relating to the circle at sir joshua reynolds's the particulars of what passed between the king and him, dr. goldsmith remained unmoved upon a sopha at some distance, affecting not to join in the least in the eager curiosity of the company. he assigned as a reason for his gloom and seeming inattention, that he apprehended johnson had relinquished his purpose of furnishing him with a prologue to his play, with the hopes of which he had been flattered; but it was strongly suspected that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular honour dr. johnson had lately enjoyed. at length, the frankness and simplicity of his natural character prevailed. he sprung from the sopha, advanced to johnson, and in a kind of flutter, from imagining himself in the situation which he had just been hearing described, exclaimed, 'well, you acquitted yourself in this conversation better than i should have done; for i should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it.' his diary affords no light as to his employment at this time. he passed three months at lichfield; and i cannot omit an affecting and solemn scene there, as related by himself:-- 'sunday, oct. , . yesterday, oct. , at about ten in the morning, i took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, catharine chambers, who came to live with my mother about , and has been but little parted from us since. she buried my father, my brother, and my mother. she is now fifty-eight years old. 'i desired all to withdraw, then told her that we were to part for ever; that as christians, we should part with prayer; and that i would, if she was willing, say a short prayer beside her. she expressed great desire to hear me; and held up her poor hands, as she lay in bed, with great fervour, while i prayed, kneeling by her, nearly in the following words: 'almighty and most merciful father, whose loving kindness is over all thy works, behold, visit, and relieve this thy servant, who is grieved with sickness. grant that the sense of her weakness may add strength to her faith, and seriousness to her repentance. and grant that by the help of thy holy spirit, after the pains and labours of this short life, we may all obtain everlasting happiness, through jesus christ our lord; for whose sake hear our prayers. amen. our father, &c. 'i then kissed her. she told me, that to part was the greatest pain that she had ever felt, and that she hoped we should meet again in a better place. i expressed, with swelled eyes, and great emotion of tenderness, the same hopes. we kissed, and parted. i humbly hope to meet again, and to part no more.' : aetat. ]--it appears from his notes of the state of his mind, that he suffered great perturbation and distraction in . nothing of his writing was given to the publick this year, except the prologue to his friend goldsmith's comedy of the good-natured man. the first lines of this prologue are strongly characteristical of the dismal gloom of his mind; which in his case, as in the case of all who are distressed with the same malady of imagination, transfers to others its own feelings. who could suppose it was to introduce a comedy, when mr. bensley solemnly began, 'press'd with the load of life, the weary mind surveys the general toil of human kind.' but this dark ground might make goldsmith's humour shine the more. in the spring of this year, having published my account of corsica, with the journal of a tour to that island, i returned to london, very desirous to see dr. johnson, and hear him upon the subject. i found he was at oxford, with his friend mr. chambers, who was now vinerian professor, and lived in new inn hall. having had no letter from him since that in which he criticised the latinity of my thesis, and having been told by somebody that he was offended at my having put into my book an extract of his letter to me at paris, i was impatient to be with him, and therefore followed him to oxford, where i was entertained by mr. chambers, with a civility which i shall ever gratefully remember. i found that dr. johnson had sent a letter to me to scotland, and that i had nothing to complain of but his being more indifferent to my anxiety than i wished him to be. instead of giving, with the circumstances of time and place, such fragments of his conversation as i preserved during this visit to oxford, i shall throw them together in continuation. talking of some of the modern plays, he said false delicacy was totally void of character. he praised goldsmith's good-natured man; said, it was the best comedy that had appeared since the provoked husband, and that there had not been of late any such character exhibited on the stage as that of croaker. i observed it was the suspirius of his rambler. he said, goldsmith had owned he had borrowed it from thence. 'sir, (continued he,) there is all the difference in the world between characters of nature and characters of manners; and there is the difference between the characters of fielding and those of richardson. characters of manners are very entertaining; but they are to be understood by a more superficial observer than characters of nature, where a man must dive into the recesses of the human heart.' it always appeared to me that he estimated the compositions of richardson too highly, and that he had an unreasonable prejudice against fielding. in comparing those two writers, he used this expression: 'that there was as great a difference between them as between a man who knew how a watch was made, and a man who could tell the hour by looking on the dial-plate.' 'i have not been troubled for a long time with authours desiring my opinion of their works. i used once to be sadly plagued with a man who wrote verses, but who literally had no other notion of a verse, but that it consisted of ten syllables. lay your knife and your fork, across your plate, was to him a verse: lay your knife and your fork, across your plate. as he wrote a great number of verses, he sometimes by chance made good ones, though he did not know it.' johnson expatiated on the advantages of oxford for learning. 'there is here, sir, (said he,) such a progressive emulation. the students are anxious to appear well to their tutors; the tutors are anxious to have their pupils appear well in the college; the colleges are anxious to have their students appear well in the university; and there are excellent rules of discipline in every college. that the rules are sometimes ill observed, may be true; but is nothing against the system. the members of an university may, for a season, be unmindful of their duty. i am arguing for the excellency of the institution.' he said he had lately been a long while at lichfield, but had grown very weary before he left it. boswell. 'i wonder at that, sir; it is your native place.' johnson. 'why, so is scotland your native place.' his prejudice against scotland appeared remarkably strong at this time. when i talked of our advancement in literature, 'sir, (said he,) you have learnt a little from us, and you think yourselves very great men. hume would never have written history, had not voltaire written it before him. he is an echo of voltaire.' boswell. 'but, sir, we have lord kames.' johnson. 'you have lord kames. keep him; ha, ha, ha! we don't envy you him. do you ever see dr. robertson?' boswell. 'yes, sir.' johnson. 'does the dog talk of me?' boswell. 'indeed, sir, he does, and loves you.' thinking that i now had him in a corner, and being solicitous for the literary fame of my country, i pressed him for his opinion on the merit of dr. robertson's history of scotland. but, to my surprize, he escaped.--'sir, i love robertson, and i won't talk of his book.' an essay, written by mr. deane, a divine of the church of england, maintaining the future life of brutes, by an explication of certain parts of the scriptures, was mentioned, and the doctrine insisted on by a gentleman who seemed fond of curious speculation. johnson, who did not like to hear of any thing concerning a future state which was not authorised by the regular canons of orthodoxy, discouraged this talk; and being offended at its continuation, he watched an opportunity to give the gentleman a blow of reprehension. so, when the poor speculatist, with a serious metaphysical pensive face, addressed him, 'but really, sir, when we see a very sensible dog, we don't know what to think of him;' johnson, rolling with joy at the thought which beamed in his eye, turned quickly round, and replied, 'true, sir: and when we see a very foolish fellow, we don't know what to think of him.' he then rose up, strided to the fire, and stood for some time laughing and exulting. i asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from chastity should so absolutely ruin a young woman. johnson. 'why, no, sir; it is the great principle which she is taught. when she has given up that principle, she has given up every notion of female honour and virtue, which are all included in chastity.' a gentleman talked to him of a lady whom he greatly admired and wished to marry, but was afraid of her superiority of talents. 'sir, (said he,) you need not be afraid; marry her. before a year goes about, you'll find that reason much weaker, and that wit not so bright.' yet the gentleman may be justified in his apprehension by one of dr. johnson's admirable sentences in his life of waller: 'he doubtless praised many whom he would have been afraid to marry; and, perhaps, married one whom he would have been ashamed to praise. many qualities contribute to domestic happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow; and many airs and sallies may delight imagination, which he who flatters them never can approve.' he praised signor baretti. 'his account of italy is a very entertaining book; and, sir, i know no man who carries his head higher in conversation than baretti. there are strong powers in his mind. he has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.' at this time i observed upon the dial-plate of his watch a short greek inscription, taken from the new testament, [greek text omitted], being the first words of our saviour's solemn admonition to the improvement of that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity: 'the night cometh when no man can work.' he sometime afterwards laid aside this dial-plate; and when i asked him the reason, he said, 'it might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet; but to have it upon his watch which he carries about with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be censured as ostentatious.' mr. steevens is now possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above. he remained at oxford a considerable time; i was obliged to go to london, where i received his letter, which had been returned from scotland. 'to james boswell, esq. 'my dear boswell,--i have omitted a long time to write to you, without knowing very well why. i could now tell why i should not write; for who would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave? yet i write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that i shall be glad to see you, and that i wish you would empty your head of corsica, which i think has filled it rather too long. but, at all events, i shall be glad, very glad to see you. i am, sir, yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'oxford, march , .' upon his arrival in london in may, he surprized me one morning with a visit at my lodgings in half-moon-street, was quite satisfied with my explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. as he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published, i thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his death. his answer was, 'nay, sir, when i am dead, you may do as you will.' he talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty. 'they make a rout about universal liberty, without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is private liberty. political liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. now, sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know is a constant topick. suppose you and i and two hundred more were restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? what proportion would that restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation?' this mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint as light and insignificant, was a kind of sophistry in which he delighted to indulge himself, in opposition to the extreme laxity for which it has been fashionable for too many to argue, when it is evident, upon reflection, that the very essence of government is restraint; and certain it is, that as government produces rational happiness, too much restraint is better than too little. but when restraint is unnecessary, and so close as to gall those who are subject to it, the people may and ought to remonstrate; and, if relief is not granted, to resist. of this manly and spirited principle, no man was more convinced than johnson himself. his sincere regard for francis barber, his faithful negro servant, made him so desirous of his further improvement, that he now placed him at a school at bishop stortford, in hertfordshire. this humane attention does johnson's heart much honour. out of many letters which mr. barber received from his master, he has preserved three, which he kindly gave me, and which i shall insert according to their dates. 'to mr. francis barber. 'dear francis,--i have been very much out of order. i am glad to hear that you are well, and design to come soon to see you. i would have you stay at mrs. clapp's for the present, till i can determine what we shall do. be a good boy. 'my compliments to mrs. clapp and to mr. fowler. i am, your's affectionately, sam. johnson.' 'may , .' soon afterwards, he supped at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, with a company whom i collected to meet him. they were dr. percy, now bishop of dromore, dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, mr. langton, dr. robertson the historian, dr. hugh blair, and mr. thomas davies, who wished much to be introduced to these eminent scotch literati; but on the present occasion he had very little opportunity of hearing them talk, for with an excess of prudence, for which johnson afterwards found fault with them, they hardly opened their lips, and that only to say something which they were certain would not expose them to the sword of goliath; such was their anxiety for their fame when in the presence of johnson. he was this evening in remarkable vigour of mind, and eager to exert himself in conversation, which he did with great readiness and fluency; but i am sorry to find that i have preserved but a small part of what passed. he was vehement against old dr. mounsey, of chelsea college, as 'a fellow who swore and talked bawdy.' 'i have been often in his company, (said dr. percy,) and never heard him swear or talk bawdy.' mr. davies, who sat next to dr. percy, having after this had some conversation aside with him, made a discovery which, in his zeal to pay court to dr. johnson, he eagerly proclaimed aloud from the foot of the table: 'o, sir, i have found out a very good reason why dr. percy never heard mounsey swear or talk bawdy; for he tells me, he never saw him but at the duke of northumberland's table.' 'and so, sir, (said johnson loudly, to dr. percy,) you would shield this man from the charge of swearing and talking bawdy, because he did not do so at the duke of northumberland's table. sir, you might as well tell us that you had seen him hold up his hand at the old bailey, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy; or that you had seen him in the cart at tyburn, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy. and is it thus, sir, that you presume to controvert what i have related?' dr. johnson's animadversion was uttered in such a manner, that dr. percy seemed to be displeased, and soon afterwards left the company, of which johnson did not at that time take any notice. swift having been mentioned, johnson, as usual, treated him with little respect as an authour. some of us endeavoured to support the dean of st. patrick's by various arguments. one in particular praised his conduct of the allies. johnson. 'sir, his conduct of the allies is a performance of very little ability.' 'surely, sir, (said dr. douglas,) you must allow it has strong facts.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but what is that to the merit of the composition? in the sessions-paper of the old bailey, there are strong facts. housebreaking is a strong fact; robbery is a strong fact; and murder is a mighty strong fact; but is great praise due to the historian of those strong facts? no, sir. swift has told what he had to tell distinctly enough, but that is all. he had to count ten, and he has counted it right.' then recollecting that mr. davies, by acting as an informer, had been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to his friend dr. percy, for which, probably, when the first ebullition was over, he felt some compunction, he took an opportunity to give him a hit; so added, with a preparatory laugh, 'why, sir, tom davies might have written the conduct of the allies.' poor tom being thus suddenly dragged into ludicrous notice in presence of the scottish doctors, to whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was grievously mortified. nor did his punishment rest here; for upon subsequent occasions, whenever he, 'statesman all over,' assumed a strutting importance, i used to hail him--'the authour of the conduct of the allies.' when i called upon dr. johnson next morning, i found him highly satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding evening. 'well, (said he,) we had good talk.' boswell. 'yes, sir; you tossed and gored several persons.' the late alexander, earl of eglintoune, who loved wit more than wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admiration of johnson; but from the remarkable elegance of his own manners, was, perhaps, too delicately sensible of the roughness which sometimes appeared in johnson's behaviour. one evening about this time, when his lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with dr. robertson and several other men of literary distinction, he regretted that johnson had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished society. 'no, no, my lord, (said signor baretti,) do with him what you would, he would always have been a bear.' 'true, (answered the earl, with a smile,) but he would have been a dancing bear.' to obviate all the reflections which have gone round the world to johnson's prejudice, by applying to him the epithet of a bear, let me impress upon my readers a just and happy saying of my friend goldsmith, who knew him well: 'johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. he has nothing of the bear but his skin.' : aetat. .]--i came to london in the autumn, and having informed him that i was going to be married in a few months, i wished to have as much of his conversation as i could before engaging in a state of life which would probably keep me more in scotland, and prevent me seeing him so often as when i was a single man; but i found he was at brighthelmstone with mr. and mrs. thrale. after his return to town, we met frequently, and i continued the practice of making notes of his conversation, though not with so much assiduity as i wish i had done. at this time, indeed, i had a sufficient excuse for not being able to appropriate so much time to my journal; for general paoli, after corsica had been overpowered by the monarchy of france, was now no longer at the head of his brave countrymen, but having with difficulty escaped from his native island, had sought an asylum in great-britain; and it was my duty, as well as my pleasure, to attend much upon him. such particulars of johnson's conversation at this period as i have committed to writing, i shall here introduce, without any strict attention to methodical arrangement. sometimes short notes of different days shall be blended together, and sometimes a day may seem important enough to be separately distinguished. he said, he would not have sunday kept with rigid severity and gloom, but with a gravity and simplicity of behaviour. i told him that david hume had made a short collection of scotticisms. 'i wonder, (said johnson,) that he should find them.' on the th of september we dined together at the mitre. i attempted to argue for the superior happiness of the savage life, upon the usual fanciful topicks. johnson. 'sir, there can be nothing more false. the savages have no bodily advantages beyond those of civilised men. they have not better health; and as to care or mental uneasiness, they are not above it, but below it, like bears. no, sir; you are not to talk such paradox: let me have no more on't. it cannot entertain, far less can it instruct. lord monboddo, one of your scotch judges, talked a great deal of such nonsense. i suffered him; but i will not suffer you.'--boswell. 'but, sir, does not rousseau talk such nonsense?' johnson. 'true, sir, but rousseau knows he is talking nonsense, and laughs at the world for staring at him.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, a man who talks nonsense so well, must know that he is talking nonsense. but i am afraid, (chuckling and laughing,) monboddo does not know that he is talking nonsense.' boswell. 'is it wrong then, sir, to affect singularity, in order to make people stare?' johnson. 'yes, if you do it by propagating errour: and, indeed, it is wrong in any way. there is in human nature a general inclination to make people stare; and every wise man has himself to cure of it, and does cure himself. if you wish to make people stare by doing better than others, why, make them stare till they stare their eyes out. but consider how easy it is to make people stare by being absurd. i may do it by going into a drawing-room without my shoes. you remember the gentleman in the spectator, who had a commission of lunacy taken out against him for his extreme singularity, such as never wearing a wig, but a night-cap. now, sir, abstractedly, the night-cap was best; but, relatively, the advantage was overbalanced by his making the boys run after him.' talking of a london life, he said, 'the happiness of london is not to be conceived but by those who have been in it. i will venture to say, there is more learning and science within the circumference of ten miles from where we now sit, than in all the rest of the kingdom.' boswell. 'the only disadvantage is the great distance at which people live from one another.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but that is occasioned by the largeness of it, which is the cause of all the other advantages.' boswell. 'sometimes i have been in the humour of wishing to retire to a desart.' johnson. 'sir, you have desart enough in scotland.' although i had promised myself a great deal of instructive conversation with him on the conduct of the married state, of which i had then a near prospect, he did not say much upon that topick. mr. seward heard him once say, that 'a man has a very bad chance for happiness in that state, unless he marries a woman of very strong and fixed principles of religion.' he maintained to me, contrary to the common notion, that a woman would not be the worse wife for being learned; in which, from all that i have observed of artemisias, i humbly differed from him. when i censured a gentleman of my acquaintance for marrying a second time, as it shewed a disregard of his first wife, he said, 'not at all, sir. on the contrary, were he not to marry again, it might be concluded that his first wife had given him a disgust to marriage; but by taking a second wife he pays the highest compliment to the first, by shewing that she made him so happy as a married man, that he wishes to be so a second time.' so ingenious a turn did he give to this delicate question. and yet, on another occasion, he owned that he once had almost asked a promise of mrs. johnson that she would not marry again, but had checked himself. indeed, i cannot help thinking, that in his case the request would have been unreasonable; for if mrs. johnson forgot, or thought it no injury to the memory of her first love,--the husband of her youth and the father of her children,--to make a second marriage, why should she be precluded from a third, should she be so inclined? in johnson's persevering fond appropriation of his tetty, even after her decease, he seems totally to have overlooked the prior claim of the honest birmingham trader. i presume that her having been married before had, at times, given him some uneasiness; for i remember his observing upon the marriage of one of our common friends, 'he has done a very foolish thing, sir; he has married a widow, when he might have had a maid.' we drank tea with mrs. williams. i had last year the pleasure of seeing mrs. thrale at dr. johnson's one morning, and had conversation enough with her to admire her talents, and to shew her that i was as johnsonian as herself. dr. johnson had probably been kind enough to speak well of me, for this evening he delivered me a very polite card from mr. thrale and her, inviting me to streatham. on the th of october i complied with this obliging invitation, and found, at an elegant villa, six miles from town, every circumstance that can make society pleasing. johnson, though quite at home, was yet looked up to with an awe, tempered by affection, and seemed to be equally the care of his host and hostess. i rejoiced at seeing him so happy. he played off his wit against scotland with a good humoured pleasantry, which gave me, though no bigot to national prejudices, an opportunity for a little contest with him. i having said that england was obliged to us for gardeners, almost all their good gardeners being scotchmen. johnson. 'why, sir, that is because gardening is much more necessary amongst you than with us, which makes so many of your people learn it. it is all gardening with you. things which grow wild here, must be cultivated with great care in scotland. pray now (throwing himself back in his chair, and laughing,) are you ever able to bring the sloe to perfection?' i boasted that we had the honour of being the first to abolish the unhospitable, troublesome, and ungracious custom of giving vails to servants. johnson. 'sir, you abolished vails, because you were too poor to be able to give them.' mrs. thrale disputed with him on the merit of prior. he attacked him powerfully; said he wrote of love like a man who had never felt it: his love verses were college verses; and he repeated the song 'alexis shunn'd his fellow swains,' &c., in so ludicrous a manner, as to make us all wonder how any one could have been pleased with such fantastical stuff. mrs. thrale stood to her gun with great courage, in defence of amorous ditties, which johnson despised, till he at last silenced her by saying, 'my dear lady, talk no more of this. nonsense can be defended but by nonsense.' mrs. thrale then praised garrick's talent for light gay poetry; and, as a specimen, repeated his song in florizel and perdita, and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line: 'i'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.' johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, this will never do. poor david! smile with the simple;--what folly is that? and who would feed with the poor that can help it? no, no; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.' i repeated this sally to garrick, and wondered to find his sensibility as a writer not a little irritated by it. to sooth him, i observed, that johnson spared none of us; and i quoted the passage in horace, in which he compares one who attacks his friends for the sake of a laugh, to a pushing ox, that is marked by a bunch of hay put upon his horns: 'foenum habet in cornu.' 'ay, (said garrick vehemently,) he has a whole mow of it.' he would not allow much merit to whitefield's oratory. 'his popularity, sir, (said be,) is chiefly owing to the peculiarity of his manner. he would be followed by crowds were he to wear a night-cap in the pulpit, or were he to preach from a tree.' on the evening of october , i presented dr. johnson to general paoli. i had greatly wished that two men, for whom i had the highest esteem, should meet. they met with a manly ease, mutually conscious of their own abilities, and of the abilities of each other. the general spoke italian, and dr. johnson english, and understood one another very well, with a little aid of interpretation from me, in which i compared myself to an isthmus which joins two great continents. upon johnson's approach, the general said, 'from what i have read of your works, sir, and from what mr. boswell has told me of you, i have long held you in great veneration.' the general talked of languages being formed on the particular notions and manners of a people, without knowing which, we cannot know the language. we may know the direct signification of single words; but by these no beauty of expression, no sally of genius, no wit is conveyed to the mind. all this must be by allusion to other ideas. 'sir, (said johnson,) you talk of language, as if you had never done any thing else but study it, instead of governing a nation.' the general said, 'questo e un troppo gran complimento;' this is too great a compliment. johnson answered, 'i should have thought so, sir, if i had not heard you talk.' the general asked him, what he thought of the spirit of infidelity which was so prevalent. johnson. 'sir, this gloom of infidelity, i hope, is only a transient cloud passing through the hemisphere, which will soon be dissipated, and the sun break forth with his usual splendour.' 'you think then, (said the general,) that they will change their principles like their clothes.' johnson. 'why, sir, if they bestow no more thought on principles than on dress, it must be so.' the general said, that 'a great part of the fashionable infidelity was owing to a desire of shewing courage. men who have no opportunities of shewing it as to things in this life, take death and futurity as objects on which to display it.' johnson. 'that is mighty foolish affectation. fear is one of the passions of human nature, of which it is impossible to divest it. you remember that the emperour charles v, when he read upon the tomb-stone of a spanish nobleman, "here lies one who never knew fear," wittily said, "then he never snuffed a candle with his fingers."' dr. johnson went home with me, and drank tea till late in the night. he said, 'general paoli had the loftiest port of any man he had ever seen.' he denied that military men were always the best bred men. 'perfect good breeding,' he observed, 'consists in having no particular mark of any profession, but a general elegance of manners; whereas, in a military man, you can commonly distinguish the brand of a soldier, l'homme d'epee.' dr. johnson shunned to-night any discussion of the perplexed question of fate and free will, which i attempted to agitate. 'sir, (said he,) we know our will is free, and there's an end on't.' he honoured me with his company at dinner on the th of october, at my lodgings in old bond-street, with sir joshua reynolds, mr. garrick, dr. goldsmith, mr. murphy, mr. bickerstaff, and mr. thomas davies. garrick played round him with a fond vivacity, taking hold of the breasts of his coat, and, looking up in his face with a lively archness, complimented him on the good health which he seemed then to enjoy; while the sage, shaking his head, beheld him with a gentle complacency. one of the company not being come at the appointed hour, i proposed, as usual upon such occasions, to order dinner to be served; adding, 'ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'why, yes, (answered johnson, with a delicate humanity,) if the one will suffer more by your sitting down, than the six will do by waiting.' goldsmith, to divert the tedious minutes, strutted about, bragging of his dress, and i believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was wonderfully prone to such impressions. 'come, come, (said garrick,) talk no more of that. you are, perhaps, the worst--eh, eh!'--goldsmith was eagerly attempting to interrupt him, when garrick went on, laughing ironically, 'nay, you will always look like a gentleman; but i am talking of being well or ill drest.' 'well, let me tell you, (said goldsmith,) when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, he said, "sir, i have a favour to beg of you. when any body asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention john filby, at the harrow, in waterlane."' johnson. 'why, sir, that was because he knew the strange colour would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could make a coat even of so absurd a colour.' after dinner our conversation first turned upon pope. johnson said, his characters of men were admirably drawn, those of women not so well. he repeated to us, in his forcible melodious manner, the concluding lines of the dunciad. while he was talking loudly in praise of those lines, one of the company* ventured to say, 'too fine for such a poem:--a poem on what?' johnson, (with a disdainful look,) 'why, on dunces. it was worth while being a dunce then. ah, sir, hadst thou lived in those days! it is not worth while 'being a dunce now, when there are no wits.' bickerstaff observed, as a peculiar circumstance, that pope's fame was higher when he was alive than it was then. johnson said, his pastorals were poor things, though the versification was fine. he told us, with high satisfaction, the anecdote of pope's inquiring who was the authour of his london, and saying, he will be soon deterre. he observed, that in dryden's poetry there were passages drawn from a profundity which pope could never reach. he repeated some fine lines on love, by the former, (which i have now forgotten,) and gave great applause to the character of zimri. goldsmith said, that pope's character of addison shewed a deep knowledge of the human heart. johnson said, that the description of the temple, in the mourning bride, was the finest poetical passage he had ever read; he recollected none in shakspeare equal to it. 'but, (said garrick, all alarmed for the 'god of his idolatry,') we know not the extent and variety of his powers. we are to suppose there are such passages in his works. shakspeare must not suffer from the badness of our memories.' johnson, diverted by this enthusiastick jealousy, went on with greater ardour: 'no, sir; congreve has nature;' (smiling on the tragick eagerness of garrick;) but composing himself, he added, 'sir, this is not comparing congreve on the whole, with shakspeare on the whole; but only maintaining that congreve has one finer passage than any that can be found in shakspeare. sir, a man may have no more than ten guineas in the world, but he may have those ten guineas in one piece; and so may have a finer piece than a man who has ten thousand pounds: but then he has only one ten-guinea piece. what i mean is, that you can shew me no passage where there is simply a description of material objects, without any intermixture of moral notions, which produces such an effect.' mr. murphy mentioned shakspeare's description of the night before the battle of agincourt; but it was observed, it had men in it. mr. davies suggested the speech of juliet, in which she figures herself awaking in the tomb of her ancestors. some one mentioned the description of dover cliff. johnson. 'no, sir; it should be all precipice,--all vacuum. the crows impede your fall. the diminished appearance of the boats, and other circumstances, are all very good descriptions; but do not impress the mind at once with the horrible idea of immense height. the impression is divided; you pass on by computation, from one stage of the tremendous space to another. had the girl in the mourning bride said, she could not cast her shoe to the top of one of the pillars in the temple, it would not have aided the idea, but weakened it.' * everyone guesses that 'one of the company' was boswell. --hill. talking of a barrister who had a bad utterance, some one, (to rouse johnson,) wickedly said, that he was unfortunate in not having been taught oratory by sheridan. johnson. 'nay, sir, if he had been taught by sheridan, he would have cleared the room.' garrick. 'sheridan has too much vanity to be a good man.' we shall now see johnson's mode of defending a man; taking him into his own hands, and discriminating. johnson. 'no, sir. there is, to be sure, in sheridan, something to reprehend, and every thing to laugh at; but, sir, he is not a bad man. no, sir; were mankind to be divided into good and bad, he would stand considerably within the ranks of good. and, sir, it must be allowed that sheridan excels in plain declamation, though he can exhibit no character.' mrs. montagu, a lady distinguished for having written an essay on shakspeare, being mentioned; reynolds. 'i think that essay does her honour.' johnson. 'yes, sir: it does her honour, but it would do nobody else honour. i have, indeed, not read it all. but when i take up the end of a web, and find it packthread, i do not expect, by looking further, to find embroidery. sir, i will venture to say, there is not one sentence of true criticism in her book.' garrick. 'but, sir, surely it shews how much voltaire has mistaken shakspeare, which nobody else has done.' johnson. 'sir, nobody else has thought it worth while. and what merit is there in that? you may as well praise a schoolmaster for whipping a boy who has construed ill. no, sir, there is no real criticism in it: none shewing the beauty of thought, as formed on the workings of the human heart.' the admirers of this essay may be offended at the slighting manner in which johnson spoke of it; but let it be remembered, that he gave his honest opinion unbiassed by any prejudice, or any proud jealousy of a woman intruding herself into the chair of criticism; for sir joshua reynolds has told me, that when the essay first came out, and it was not known who had written it, johnson wondered how sir joshua could like it. at this time sir joshua himself had received no information concerning the authour, except being assured by one of our most eminent literati, that it was clear its authour did not know the greek tragedies in the original. one day at sir joshua's table, when it was related that mrs. montagu, in an excess of compliment to the authour of a modern tragedy, had exclaimed, 'i tremble for shakspeare;' johnson said, 'when shakspeare has got ---- for his rival, and mrs. montagu for his defender, he is in a poor state indeed.' on thursday, october , i passed the evening with him at his house. he advised me to complete a dictionary of words peculiar to scotland, of which i shewed him a specimen. 'sir, (said he,) ray has made a collection of north-country words. by collecting those of your country, you will do a useful thing towards the history of the language. he bade me also go on with collections which i was making upon the antiquities of scotland. 'make a large book; a folio.' boswell. 'but of what use will it be, sir?' johnson. 'never mind the use; do it.' i complained that he had not mentioned garrick in his preface to shakspeare; and asked him if he did not admire him. johnson. 'yes, as "a poor player, who frets and struts his hour upon the stage;"--as a shadow.' boswell. 'but has he not brought shakspeare into notice?' johnson. 'sir, to allow that, would be to lampoon the age. many of shakspeare's plays are the worse for being acted: macbeth, for instance.' boswell. 'what, sir, is nothing gained by decoration and action? indeed, i do wish that you had mentioned garrick.' johnson. 'my dear sir, had i mentioned him, i must have mentioned many more: mrs. pritchard, mrs. cibber,--nay, and mr. cibber too; he too altered shakspeare.' boswell. 'you have read his apology, sir?' johnson. 'yes, it is very entertaining. but as for cibber himself, taking from his conversation all that he ought not to have said, he was a poor creature. i remember when he brought me one of his odes to have my opinion of it; i could not bear such nonsense, and would not let him read it to the end; so little respect had i for that great man! (laughing.) yet i remember richardson wondering that i could treat him with familiarity.' i mentioned to him that i had seen the execution of several convicts at tyburn, two days before, and that none of them seemed to be under any concern. johnson. 'most of them, sir, have never thought at all.' boswell. 'but is not the fear of death natural to man?' johnson. 'so much so, sir, that the whole of life is but keeping away the thoughts of it.' he then, in a low and earnest tone, talked of his meditating upon the aweful hour of his own dissolution, and in what manner he should conduct himself upon that occasion: 'i know not (said he,) whether i should wish to have a friend by me, or have it all between god and myself.' talking of our feeling for the distresses of others;--johnson. 'why, sir, there is much noise made about it, but it is greatly exaggerated. no, sir, we have a certain degree of feeling to prompt us to do good: more than that, providence does not intend. it would be misery to no purpose.' boswell. 'but suppose now, sir, that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged.' johnson. 'i should do what i could to bail him, and give him any other assistance; but if he were once fairly hanged, i should not suffer.' boswell. 'would you eat your dinner that day, sir?' johnson. 'yes, sir; and eat it as if he were eating it with me. why, there's baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow, friends have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plumb-pudding the less. sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind.' i told him that i had dined lately at foote's, who shewed me a letter which he had received from tom davies, telling him that he had not been able to sleep from the concern which he felt on account of 'this sad affair of baretti,' begging of him to try if he could suggest any thing that might be of service; and, at the same time, recommending to him an industrious young man who kept a pickle-shop. johnson. 'ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy; a friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled. we know not whether baretti or the pickle-man has kept davies from sleep; nor does he know himself. and as to his not sleeping, sir; tom davies is a very great man; tom has been upon the stage, and knows how to do those things. i have not been upon the stage, and cannot do those things.' boswell. 'i have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as sensibly as many say they do.' johnson. 'sir, don't be duped by them any more. you will find these very feeling people are not very ready to do you good. they pay you by feeling.' boswell. 'foote has a great deal of humour?' johnson. 'yes, sir.' boswell. 'he has a singular talent of exhibiting character.' johnson. 'sir, it is not a talent; it is a vice; it is what others abstain from. it is not comedy, which exhibits the character of a species, as that of a miser gathered from many misers: it is farce, which exhibits individuals.' boswell. 'did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?' johnson. 'sir, fear restrained him; he knew i would have broken his bones. i would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg; i would not have left him a leg to cut off.' boswell. 'pray, sir, is not foote an infidel?' johnson. 'i do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel; but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject.'* boswell. 'i suppose, sir, he has thought superficially, and seized the first notions which occurred to his mind.' johnson. 'why then, sir, still he is like a dog, that snatches the piece next him. did you never observe that dogs have not the power of comparing? a dog will take a small bit of meat as readily as a large, when both are before him.' * when mr. foote was at edinburgh, he thought fit to entertain a numerous scotch company, with a great deal of coarse jocularity, at the expense of dr. johnson, imagining it would be acceptable. i felt this as not civil to me; but sat very patiently till he had exhausted his merriment on that subject; and then observed, that surely johnson must be allowed to have some sterling wit, and that i had heard him say a very good thing of mr. foote himself. 'ah, my old friend sam (cried foote,) no man says better things; do let us have it.' upon which i told the above story, which produced a very loud laugh from the company. but i never saw foote so disconcerted.--boswell. boswell. 'what do you think of dr. young's night thoughts, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, there are very fine things in them.' boswell. 'is there not less religion in the nation now, sir, than there was formerly?' johnson. 'i don't know, sir, that there is.' boswell. 'for instance, there used to be a chaplain in every great family, which we do not find now.' johnson. 'neither do you find any of the state servants, which great families used formerly to have. there is a change of modes in the whole department of life.' next day, october , he appeared, for the only time i suppose in his life, as a witness in a court of justice, being called to give evidence to the character of mr. baretti, who having stabbed a man in the street, was arraigned at the old bailey for murder. never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the aweful sessions-house, emphatically called justice hall; mr. burke, mr. garrick, mr. beauclerk, and dr. johnson: and undoubtedly their favourable testimony had due weight with the court and jury. johnson gave his evidence in a slow, deliberate, and distinct manner, which was uncommonly impressive. it is well known that mr. baretti was acquitted. on the th of october, we dined together at the mitre tavern. i found fault with foote for indulging his talent of ridicule at the expence of his visitors, which i colloquially termed making fools of his company. johnson. 'why, sir, when you go to see foote, you do not go to see a saint: you go to see a man who will be entertained at your house, and then bring you on a publick stage; who will entertain you at his house, for the very purpose of bringing you on a publick stage. sir, he does not make fools of his company; they whom he exposes are fools already: he only brings them into action.' we went home to his house to tea. mrs. williams made it with sufficient dexterity, notwithstanding her blindness, though her manner of satisfying herself that the cups were full enough appeared to me a little aukward; for i fancied she put her finger down a certain way, till she felt the tea touch it.* in my first elation at being allowed the privilege of attending dr. johnson at his late visits to this lady, which was like being e secretioribus consiliis, i willingly drank cup after cup, as if it had been the heliconian spring. but as the charm of novelty went off, i grew more fastidious; and besides, i discovered that she was of a peevish temper. * boswell afterwards learned that she felt the rising tea on the outside of the cup.--ed. there was a pretty large circle this evening. dr. johnson was in very good humour, lively, and ready to talk upon all subjects. mr. fergusson, the self-taught philosopher, told him of a new-invented machine which went without horses: a man who sat in it turned a handle, which worked a spring that drove it forward. 'then, sir, (said johnson,) what is gained is, the man has his choice whether he will move himself alone, or himself and the machine too.' dominicetti being mentioned, he would not allow him any merit. 'there is nothing in all this boasted system. no, sir; medicated baths can be no better than warm water: their only effect can be that of tepid moisture.' one of the company took the other side, maintaining that medicines of various sorts, and some too of most powerful effect, are introduced into the human frame by the medium of the pores; and, therefore, when warm water is impregnated with salutiferous substances, it may produce great effects as a bath. this appeared to me very satisfactory. johnson did not answer it; but talking for victory, and determined to be master of the field, he had recourse to the device which goldsmith imputed to him in the witty words of one of cibber's comedies: 'there is no arguing with johnson; for when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.' he turned to the gentleman, 'well, sir, go to dominicetti, and get thyself fumigated; but be sure that the steam be directed to thy head, for that is the peccant part.' this produced a triumphant roar of laughter from the motley assembly of philosophers, printers, and dependents, male and female. i know not how so whimsical a thought came into my mind, but i asked, 'if, sir, you were shut up in a castle, and a newborn child with you, what would you do?' johnson. 'why, sir, i should not much like my company.' boswell. 'but would you take the trouble of rearing it?' he seemed, as may well be supposed, unwilling to pursue the subject: but upon my persevering in my question, replied, 'why yes, sir, i would; but i must have all conveniencies. if i had no garden, i would make a shed on the roof, and take it there for fresh air. i should feed it, and wash it much, and with warm water to please it, not with cold water to give it pain.' boswell. 'but, sir, does not heat relax?' johnson. 'sir, you are not to imagine the water is to be very hot. i would not coddle the child. no, sir, the hardy method of treating children does no good. i'll take you five children from london, who shall cuff five highland children. sir, a man bred in london will carry a burthen, or run, or wrestle, as well as a man brought up in the hardiest manner in the country.' boswell. 'good living, i suppose, makes the londoners strong.' johnson. 'why, sir, i don't know that it does. our chairmen from ireland, who are as strong men as any, have been brought up upon potatoes. quantity makes up for quality.' boswell. 'would you teach this child that i have furnished you with, any thing?' johnson. 'no, i should not be apt to teach it.' boswell. 'would not you have a pleasure in teaching it?' johnson. 'no, sir, i should not have a pleasure in teaching it.' boswell. 'have you not a pleasure in teaching men?--there i have you. you have the same pleasure in teaching men, that i should have in teaching children.' johnson. 'why, something about that.' i had hired a bohemian as my servant while i remained in london, and being much pleased with him, i asked dr. johnson whether his being a roman catholick should prevent my taking him with me to scotland. johnson. 'why no, sir, if he has no objection, you can have none.' boswell. 'so, sir, you are no great enemy to the roman catholick religion.' johnson. 'no more, sir, than to the presbyterian religion.' boswell. 'you are joking.' johnson. 'no, sir, i really think so. nay, sir, of the two, i prefer the popish.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, the presbyterians have no church, no apostolical ordination.' boswell. 'and do you think that absolutely essential, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, as it was an apostolical institution, i think it is dangerous to be without it. and, sir, the presbyterians have no public worship: they have no form of prayer in which they know they are to join. they go to hear a man pray, and are to judge whether they will join with him.' i proceeded: 'what do you think, sir, of purgatory, as believed by the roman catholicks?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is a very harmless doctrine. they are of opinion that the generality of mankind are neither so obstinately wicked as to deserve everlasting punishment, nor so good as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; and therefore that god is graciously pleased to allow of a middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees of suffering. you see, sir, there is nothing unreasonable in this.' boswell. 'but then, sir, their masses for the dead?' johnson. 'why, sir, if it be once established that there are souls in purgatory, it is as proper to pray for them, as for our brethren of mankind who are yet in this life.' boswell. 'the idolatry of the mass?' johnson. 'sir, there is no idolatry in the mass. they believe god to be there, and they adore him.' boswell. 'the worship of saints?' johnson. 'sir, they do not worship saints; they invoke them; they only ask their prayers. i am talking all this time of the doctrines of the church of rome. i grant you that in practice, purgatory is made a lucrative imposition, and that the people do become idolatrous as they recommend themselves to the tutelary protection of particular saints. i think their giving the sacrament only in one kind is criminal, because it is contrary to the express institution of christ, and i wonder how the council of trent admitted it.' boswell. 'confession?' johnson. 'why, i don't know but that is a good thing. the scripture says, "confess your faults one to another," and the priests confess as well as the laity. then it must be considered that their absolution is only upon repentance, and often upon penance also. you think your sins may be forgiven without penance, upon repentance alone.' when we were alone, i introduced the subject of death, and endeavoured to maintain that the fear of it might be got over. i told him that david hume said to me, he was no more uneasy to think he should not be after this life, than that he had not been before he began to exist. johnson. sir, if he really thinks so, his perceptions are disturbed; he is mad: if he does not think so, he lies. he may tell you, he holds his finger in the flame of a candle, without feeling pain; would you believe him? when he dies, he at least gives up all he has.' boswell. 'foote, sir, told me, that when he was very ill he was not afraid to die.' johnson. 'it is not true, sir. hold a pistol to foote's breast, or to hume's breast, and threaten to kill them, and you'll see how they behave.' boswell. 'but may we not fortify our minds for the approach of death?' here i am sensible i was in the wrong, to bring before his view what he ever looked upon with horrour; for although when in a celestial frame, in his vanity of human wishes he has supposed death to be 'kind nature's signal for retreat,' from this state of being to 'a happier seat,' his thoughts upon this aweful change were in general full of dismal apprehensions. his mind resembled the vast amphitheatre, the colisaeum at rome. in the centre stood his judgement, which, like a mighty gladiator, combated those apprehensions that, like the wild beasts of the arena, were all around in cells, ready to be let out upon him. after a conflict, he drives them back into their dens; but not killing them, they were still assailing him. to my question, whether we might not fortify our minds for the approach of death, he answered, in a passion, 'no, sir, let it alone. it matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. the act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time.' he added, (with an earnest look,) 'a man knows it must be so, and submits. it will do him no good to whine.' i attempted to continue the conversation. he was so provoked, that he said, 'give us no more of this;' and was thrown into such a state of agitation, that he expressed himself in a way that alarmed and distressed me; shewed an impatience that i should leave him, and when i was going away, called to me sternly, 'don't let us meet tomorrow.' i went home exceedingly uneasy. all the harsh observations which i had ever heard made upon his character, crowded into my mind; and i seemed to myself like the man who had put his head into the lion's mouth a great many times with perfect safety, but at last had it bit off. next morning i sent him a note, stating, that i might have been in the wrong, but it was not intentionally; he was therefore, i could not help thinking, too severe upon me. that notwithstanding our agreement not to meet that day, i would call on him in my way to the city, and stay five minutes by my watch. 'you are, (said i,) in my mind, since last night, surrounded with cloud and storm. let me have a glimpse of sunshine, and go about my affairs in serenity and chearfulness.' upon entering his study, i was glad that he was not alone, which would have made our meeting more awkward. there were with him, mr. steevens and mr. tyers, both of whom i now saw for the first time. my note had, on his own reflection, softened him, for he received me very complacently; so that i unexpectedly found myself at ease, and joined in the conversation. i whispered him, 'well, sir, you are now in good humour. johnson. 'yes, sir.' i was going to leave him, and had got as far as the staircase. he stopped me, and smiling, said, 'get you gone in;' a curious mode of inviting me to stay, which i accordingly did for some time longer. this little incidental quarrel and reconciliation, which, perhaps, i may be thought to have detailed too minutely, must be esteemed as one of many proofs which his friends had, that though he might be charged with bad humour at times, he was always a good-natured man; and i have heard sir joshua reynolds, a nice and delicate observer of manners, particularly remark, that when upon any occasion johnson had been rough to any person in company, he took the first opportunity of reconciliation, by drinking to him, or addressing his discourse to him; but if he found his dignified indirect overtures sullenly neglected, he was quite indifferent, and considered himself as having done all that he ought to do, and the other as now in the wrong. i went to him early on the morning of the tenth of november. 'now (said he,) that you are going to marry, do not expect more from life, than life will afford. you may often find yourself out of humour, and you may often think your wife not studious enough to please you; and yet you may have reason to consider yourself as upon the whole very happily married.' : aetat. .]--during this year there was a total cessation of all correspondence between dr. johnson and me, without any coldness on either side, but merely from procrastination, continued from day to day; and as i was not in london, i had no opportunity of enjoying his company and recording his conversation. to supply this blank, i shall present my readers with some collectanea, obligingly furnished to me by the rev. dr. maxwell, of falkland, in ireland, sometime assistant preacher at the temple, and for many years the social friend of johnson, who spoke of him with a very kind regard. 'his general mode of life, during my acquaintance, seemed to be pretty uniform. about twelve o'clock i commonly visited him, and frequently found him in bed, or declaiming over his tea, which he drank very plentifully. he generally had a levee of morning visitors, chiefly men of letters; hawkesworth, goldsmith, murphy, langton, steevens, beaucherk, &c. &c., and sometimes learned ladies, particularly i remember a french lady of wit and fashion doing him the honour of a visit. he seemed to me to be considered as a kind of publick oracle, whom every body thought they had a right to visit and consult; and doubtless they were well rewarded. i never could discover how he found time for his compositions. he declaimed all the morning, then went to dinner at a tavern, where he commonly staid late, and then drank his tea at some friend's house, over which he loitered a great while, but seldom took supper. i fancy he must have read and wrote chiefly in the night, for i can scarcely recollect that he ever refused going with me to a tavern, and he often went to ranelagh, which he deemed a place of innocent recreation. 'he frequently gave all the silver in his pocket to the poor, who watched him, between his house and the tavern where he dined. he walked the streets at all hours, and said he was never robbed, for the rogues knew he had little money, nor had the appearance of having much. 'though the most accessible and communicative man alive; yet when he suspected he was invited to be exhibited, he constantly spurned the invitation. 'two young women from staffordshire visited him when i was present, to consult him on the subject of methodism, to which they were inclined. "come, (said he,) you pretty fools, dine with maxwell and me at the mitre, and we will talk over that subject;" which they did, and after dinner he took one of them upon his knee, and fondled her for half an hour together. 'johnson was much attached to london: he observed, that a man stored his mind better there, than any where else; and that in remote situations a man's body might be feasted, but his mind was starved, and his faculties apt to degenerate, from want of exercise and competition. no place, (he said,) cured a man's vanity or arrogance so well as london; for as no man was either great or good per se, but as compared with others not so good or great, he was sure to find in the metropolis many his equals, and some his superiours. he observed, that a man in london was in less danger of falling in love indiscreetly, than any where else; for there the difficulty of deciding between the conflicting pretensions of a vast variety of objects, kept him safe. he told me, that he had frequently been offered country preferment, if he would consent to take orders; but he could not leave the improved society of the capital, or consent to exchange the exhilarating joys and splendid decorations of publick life, for the obscurity, insipidity, and uniformity of remote situations. 'burton's anatomy of melancholy, he said, was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise. 'when exasperated by contradiction, he was apt to treat his opponents with too much acrimony: as, "sir, you don't see your way through that question:"--"sir, you talk the language of ignorance." on my observing to him that a certain gentleman had remained silent the whole evening, in the midst of a very brilliant and learned society, "sir, (said he,) the conversation overflowed, and drowned him." 'he observed, that the established clergy in general did not preach plain enough; and that polished periods and glittering sentences flew over the heads of the common people, without any impression upon their hearts. something might be necessary, he observed, to excite the affections of the common people, who were sunk in languor and lethargy, and therefore he supposed that the new concomitants of methodism might probably produce so desirable an effect. the mind, like the body, he observed, delighted in change and novelty, and even in religion itself, courted new appearances and modifications. whatever might be thought of some methodist teachers, he said, he could scarcely doubt the sincerity of that man, who travelled nine hundred miles in a month, and preached twelve times a week; for no adequate reward, merely temporal, could be given for such indefatigable labour. 'in a latin conversation with the pere boscovitch, at the house of mrs. cholmondeley, i heard him maintain the superiority of sir isaac newton over all foreign philosophers, with a dignity and eloquence that surprized that learned foreigner. it being observed to him, that a rage for every thing english prevailed much in france after lord chatham's glorious war, he said, he did not wonder at it, for that we had drubbed those fellows into a proper reverence for us, and that their national petulance required periodical chastisement. 'speaking of a dull tiresome fellow, whom he chanced to meet, he said, "that fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one." 'much enquiry having been made concerning a gentleman, who had quitted a company where johnson was, and no information being obtained; at last johnson observed, that "he did not care to speak ill of any man behind his back, but he believed the gentleman was an attorney." 'a gentleman who had been very unhappy in marriage, married immediately after his wife died: johnson said, it was the triumph of hope over experience. 'he observed, that a man of sense and education should meet a suitable companion in a wife. it was a miserable thing when the conversation could only be such as, whether the mutton should be boiled or roasted, and probably a dispute about that. 'he did not approve of late marriages, observing that more was lost in point of time, than compensated for by any possible advantages. even ill assorted marriages were preferable to cheerless celibacy. 'he said, foppery was never cured; it was the bad stamina of the mind, which, like those of the body, were never rectified: once a coxcomb, and always a coxcomb. 'being told that gilbert cowper called him the caliban of literature; "well, (said he,) i must dub him the punchinello." 'he said few people had intellectual resources sufficient to forego the pleasures of wine. they could not otherwise contrive how to fill the interval between dinner and supper. 'one evening at mrs. montagu's, where a splendid company was assembled, consisting of the most eminent literary characters, i thought he seemed highly pleased with the respect and attention that were shewn him, and asked him on our return home if he was not highly gratified by his visit: "no, sir, (said he,) not highly gratified; yet i do not recollect to have passed many evenings with fewer objections." 'though of no high extraction himself, he had much respect for birth and family, especially among ladies. he said, "adventitious accomplishments may be possessed by all ranks; but one may easily distinguish the born gentlewoman." 'speaking of burke, he said, "it was commonly observed, he spoke too often in parliament; but nobody could say he did not speak well, though too frequently and too familiarly." 'we dined tete a tete at the mitre, as i was preparing to return to ireland, after an absence of many years. i regretted much leaving london, where i had formed many agreeable connexions: "sir, (said he,) i don't wonder at it; no man, fond of letters, leaves london without regret. but remember, sir, you have seen and enjoyed a great deal;--you have seen life in its highest decorations, and the world has nothing new to exhibit. no man is so well qualifyed to leave publick life as he who has long tried it and known it well. we are always hankering after untried situations and imagining greater felicity from them than they can afford. no, sir, knowledge and virtue may be acquired in all countries, and your local consequence will make you some amends for the intellectual gratifications you relinquish." 'he then took a most affecting leave of me; said, he knew, it was a point of duty that called me away. "we shall all be sorry to lose you," said he: "laudo tamen."' , aetat. .]-- 'to sir joshua reynolds, in leicester-fields. 'dear sir,--when i came to lichfield, i found that my portrait had been much visited, and much admired. every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place; and i was pleased with the dignity conferred by such a testimony of your regard. 'be pleased, therefore, to accept the thanks of, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, 'ashbourn in derbyshire, 'sam. johnson. july , .' 'compliments to miss reynolds.' in his religious record of this year, we observe that he was better than usual, both in body and mind, and better satisfied with the regularity of his conduct. but he is still 'trying his ways' too rigorously. he charges himself with not rising early enough; yet he mentions what was surely a sufficient excuse for this, supposing it to be a duty seriously required, as he all his life appears to have thought it. 'one great hindrance is want of rest; my nocturnal complaints grow less troublesome towards morning; and i am tempted to repair the deficiencies of the night.' alas! how hard would it be if this indulgence were to be imputed to a sick man as a crime. in his retrospect on the following easter-eve, he says, 'when i review the last year, i am able to recollect so little done, that shame and sorrow, though perhaps too weakly, come upon me.' in he was altogether quiescent as an authour; but it will be found from the various evidences which i shall bring together that his mind was acute, lively, and vigorous. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--that you are coming so soon to town i am very glad; and still more glad that you are coming as an advocate. i think nothing more likely to make your life pass happily away, than that consciousness of your own value, which eminence in your profession will certainly confer. if i can give you any collateral help, i hope you do not suspect that it will be wanting. my kindness for you has neither the merit of singular virtue, nor the reproach of singular prejudice. whether to love you be right or wrong, i have many on my side: mrs. thrale loves you, and mrs. williams loves you, and what would have inclined me to love you, if i had been neutral before, you are a great favourite of dr. beattie.* 'of dr. beattie i should have thought much, but that his lady puts him out of my head; she is a very lovely woman. 'the ejection which you come hither to oppose, appears very cruel, unreasonable, and oppressive. i should think there could not be much doubt of your success. 'my health grows better, yet i am not fully recovered. i believe it is held, that men do not recover very fast after threescore. i hope yet to see beattie's college: and have not given up the western voyage. but however all this may be or not, let us try to make each other happy when we meet, and not refer our pleasure to distant times or distant places. 'how comes it that you tell me nothing of your lady? i hope to see her some time, and till then shall be glad to hear of her. i am, dear sir, &c. 'march , .' 'sam. johnson.' * boswell had given beattie a letter of introduction to johnson the preceding summer--ed. on the st of march, i was happy to find myself again in my friend's study, and was glad to see my old acquaintance, mr. francis barber, who was now returned home. dr. johnson received me with a hearty welcome; saying, 'i am glad you are come.' i thanked him for showing civilities to beattie. 'sir, (said he,) i should thank you. we all love beattie. mrs. thrale says, if ever she has another husband, she'll have beattie. he sunk upon us that he was married; else we should have shewn his lady more civilities. she is a very fine woman. but how can you shew civilities to a nonentity? i did not think he had been married. nay, i did not think about it one way or other; but he did not tell us of his lady till late.' he then spoke of st. kilda, the most remote of the hebrides. i told him, i thought of buying it. johnson. 'pray do, sir. we will go and pass a winter amid the blasts there. we shall have fine fish, and we will take some dried tongues with us, and some books. we will have a strong built vessel, and some orkney men to navigate her. we must build a tolerable house: but we may carry with us a wooden house ready made, and requiring nothing but to be put up. consider, sir, by buying st. kilda, you may keep the people from falling into worse hands. we must give them a clergyman, and he shall be one of beattie's choosing. he shall be educated at marischal college. i'll be your lord chancellor, or what you please.' boswell. 'are you serious, sir, in advising me to buy st. kilda? for if you should advise me to go to japan, i believe i should do it.' johnson. 'why yes, sir, i am serious.' boswell. 'why then, i'll see what can be done.' he was engaged to dine abroad, and asked me to return to him in the evening at nine, which i accordingly did. we drank tea with mrs. williams, who told us a story of second sight, which happened in wales where she was born. he listened to it very attentively, and said he should be glad to have some instances of that faculty well authenticated. his elevated wish for more and more evidence for spirit, in opposition to the groveling belief of materialism, led him to a love of such mysterious disquisitions. he again justly observed, that we could have no certainty of the truth of supernatural appearances, unless something was told us which we could not know by ordinary means, or something done which could not be done but by supernatural power; that pharaoh in reason and justice required such evidence from moses; nay, that our saviour said, 'if i had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin.' we talked of the roman catholick religion, and how little difference there was in essential matters between ours and it. johnson. 'true, sir; all denominations of christians have really little difference in point of doctrine, though they may differ widely in external forms. there is a prodigious difference between the external form of one of your presbyterian churches in scotland, and a church in italy; yet the doctrine taught is essentially the same. in the morning we had talked of old families, and the respect due to them. johnson. 'sir, you have a right to that kind of respect, and are arguing for yourself. i am for supporting the principle, and am disinterested in doing it, as i have no such right.' boswell. 'why, sir, it is one more incitement to a man to do well.' johnson. 'yes, sir, and it is a matter of opinion, very necessary to keep society together. what is it but opinion, by which we have a respect for authority, that prevents us, who are the rabble, from rising up and pulling down you who are gentlemen from your places, and saying, "we will be gentlemen in our turn?" now, sir, that respect for authority is much more easily granted to a man whose father has had it, than to an upstart, and so society is more easily supported.' boswell. 'at present, sir, i think riches seem to gain most respect.' johnson. 'no, sir, riches do not gain hearty respect; they only procure external attention. a very rich man, from low beginnings, may buy his election in a borough; but, coeteris paribus, a man of family will be preferred. people will prefer a man for whose father their fathers have voted, though they should get no more money, or even less. that shows that the respect for family is not merely fanciful, but has an actual operation. if gentlemen of family would allow the rich upstarts to spend their money profusely, which they are ready enough to do, and not vie with them in expence, the upstarts would soon be at an end, and the gentlemen would remain: but if the gentlemen will vie in expence with the upstarts, which is very foolish, they must be ruined.' on monday, march , i found him busy, preparing a fourth edition of his folio dictionary. mr. peyton, one of his original amanuenses, was writing for him. he seemed also to be intent on some sort of chymical operation. i was entertained by observing how he contrived to send mr. peyton on an errand, without seeming to degrade him. 'mr. peyton,--mr. peyton, will you be so good as to take a walk to temple-bar? you will there see a chymist's shop; at which you will be pleased to buy for me an ounce of oil of vitriol; not spirit of vitriol, but oil of vitriol. it will cost three half-pence.' peyton immediately went, and returned with it, and told him it cost but a penny. on saturday, march , i introduced to him sir alexander macdonald, with whom he had expressed a wish to be acquainted. he received him very courteously. sir a. 'i think, sir, almost all great lawyers, such at least as have written upon law, have known only law, and nothing else.' johnson. 'why no, sir; judge hale was a great lawyer, and wrote upon law; and yet he knew a great many other things; and has written upon other things. selden too.' sir a. 'very true, sir; and lord bacon. but was not lord coke a mere lawyer?' johnson. 'why, i am afraid he was; but he would have taken it very ill if you had told him so. he would have prosecuted you for scandal.' boswell. 'lord mansfield is not a mere lawyer. johnson. 'no, sir. i never was in lord mansfield's company; but lord mansfield was distinguished at the university. lord mansfield, when he first came to town, "drank champagne with the wits," as prior says. he was the friend of pope.' sir a. 'barristers, i believe, are not so abusive now as they were formerly. i fancy they had less law long ago, and so were obliged to take to abuse, to fill up the time. now they have such a number of precedents, they have no occasion for abuse.' johnson. 'nay, sir, they had more law long ago than they have now. as to precedents, to be sure they will increase in course of time; but the more precedents there are, the less occasion is there for law; that is to say, the less occasion is there for investigating principles.' sir a. 'i have been correcting several scotch accents in my friend boswell. i doubt, sir, if any scotchman ever attains to a perfect english pronunciation.' johnson. 'why, sir, few of them do, because they do not persevere after acquiring a certain degree of it. but, sir, there can be no doubt that they may attain to a perfect english pronunciation, if they will. we find how near they come to it; and certainly, a man who conquers nineteen parts of the scottish accent, may conquer the twentieth. but, sir, when a man has got the better of nine tenths he grows weary, he relaxes his diligence, he finds he has corrected his accent so far as not to be disagreeable, and he no longer desires his friends to tell him when he is wrong; nor does he choose to be told. sir, when people watch me narrowly, and i do not watch myself, they will find me out to be of a particular county. in the same manner, dunning may be found out to be a devonshire man. so most scotchmen may be found out. but, sir, little aberrations are of no disadvantage. i never catched mallet in a scotch accent; and yet mallet, i suppose, was past five-and-twenty before he came to london.' i again visited him at night. finding him in a very good humour, i ventured to lead him to the subject of our situation in a future state, having much curiosity to know his notions on that point. . . . boswell. 'i do not know whether there are any well-attested stories of the appearance of ghosts. you know there is a famous story of the appearance of mrs. veal, prefixed to drelincourt on death.' johnson. 'i believe, sir, that is given up. i believe the woman declared upon her death-bed that it was a lie.' boswell. 'this objection is made against the truth of ghosts appearing: that if they are in a state of happiness, it would be a punishment to them to return to this world; and if they are in a state of misery, it would be giving them a respite.' johnson. 'why, sir, as the happiness or misery of embodied spirits does not depend upon place, but is intellectual, we cannot say that they are less happy or less miserable by appearing upon earth.' we went down between twelve and one to mrs. williams's room, and drank tea. i mentioned that we were to have the remains of mr. gray, in prose and verse, published by mr. mason. johnson. 'i think we have had enough of gray. i see they have published a splendid edition of akenside's works. one bad ode may be suffered; but a number of them together makes one sick.' boswell. 'akenside's distinguished poem is his pleasures of imagination; but for my part, i never could admire it so much as most people do.' johnson. 'sir, i could not read it through.' boswell. 'i have read it through; but i did not find any great power in it.' on tuesday, march , he and i dined at general paoli's. dr. johnson went home with me to my lodgings in conduit-street and drank tea, previous to our going to the pantheon, which neither of us had seen before. he said, 'goldsmith's life of parnell is poor; not that it is poorly written, but that he had poor materials; for nobody can write the life of a man, but those who have eat and drunk and lived in social intercourse with him.' i said, that if it was not troublesome and presuming too much, i would request him to tell me all the little circumstances of his life; what schools he attended, when he came to oxford, when he came to london, &c. &c. he did not disapprove of my curiosity as to these particulars; but said, 'they'll come out by degrees as we talk together.' we talked of the proper use of riches. johnson. 'if i were a man of a great estate, i would drive all the rascals whom i did not like out of the county at an election.' we then walked to the pantheon. the first view of it did not strike us so much as ranelagh, of which he said, the 'coup d'oeil was the finest thing he had ever seen.' the truth is, ranelagh is of a more beautiful form; more of it or rather indeed the whole rotunda, appears at once, and it is better lighted. however, as johnson observed, we saw the pantheon in time of mourning, when there was a dull uniformity; whereas we had seen ranelagh when the view was enlivened with a gay profusion of colours. mrs. bosville, of gunthwait, in yorkshire, joined us, and entered into conversation with us. johnson said to me afterwards, 'sir, this is a mighty intelligent lady.' i said there was not half a guinea's worth of pleasure in seeing this place. johnson. 'but, sir, there is half a guinea's worth of inferiority to other people in not having seen it.' boswell. 'i doubt, sir, whether there are many happy people here.' johnson. 'yes, sir, there are many happy people here. there are many people here who are watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are watching them.' happening to meet sir adam fergusson, i presented him to dr. johnson. sir adam expressed some apprehension that the pantheon would encourage luxury. 'sir, (said johnson,) i am a great friend to publick amusements; for they keep people from vice. you now (addressing himself to me,) would have been with a wench, had you not been here.--o! i forgot you were married.' sir adam suggested, that luxury corrupts a people, and destroys the spirit of liberty. johnson. 'sir, that is all visionary. i would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. it is of no moment to the happiness of an individual. sir, the danger of the abuse of power is nothing to a private man. what frenchman is prevented from passing his life as he pleases?' sir adam. 'but, sir, in the british constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as to preserve a balance against the crown.' johnson. 'sir, i perceive you are a vile whig. why all this childish jealousy of the power of the crown? the crown has not power enough. when i say that all governments are alike, i consider that in no government power can be abused long. mankind will not bear it. if a sovereign oppresses his people to a great degree, they will rise and cut off his head. there is a remedy in human nature against tyranny, that will keep us safe under every form of government. had not the people of france thought themselves honoured as sharing in the brilliant actions of lewis xiv, they would not have endured him; and we may say the same of the king of prussia's people.' sir adam introduced the ancient greeks and romans. johnson. 'sir, the mass of both of them were barbarians. the mass of every people must be barbarous where there is no printing, and consequently knowledge is not generally diffused. knowledge is diffused among our people by the news-papers.' sir adam mentioned the orators, poets, and artists of greece. johnson. 'sir, i am talking of the mass of the people. we see even what the boasted athenians were. the little effect which demosthenes's orations had upon them, shews that they were barbarians.' on sunday, april , after attending divine service at st. paul's church, i found him alone. he said, he went more frequently to church when there were prayers only, than when there was also a sermon, as the people required more an example for the one than the other; it being much easier for them to hear a sermon, than to fix their minds on prayer. on monday, april , i dined with him at sir alexander macdonald's, where was a young officer in the regimentals of the scots royal, who talked with a vivacity, fluency, and precision so uncommon, that he attracted particular attention. he proved to be the honourable thomas erskine, youngest brother to the earl of buchan, who has since risen into such brilliant reputation at the bar in westminster-hall. fielding being mentioned, johnson exclaimed, 'he was a blockhead;' and upon my expressing my astonishment at so strange an assertion, he said, 'what i mean by his being a blockhead is that he was a barren rascal.' boswell. 'will you not allow, sir, that he draws very natural pictures of human life?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is of very low life. richardson used to say, that had he not known who fielding was, he should have believed he was an ostler. sir, there is more knowledge of the heart in one letter of richardson's, than in all tom jones. i, indeed, never read joseph andrews.' erskine. 'surely, sir, richardson is very tedious.' johnson. 'why, sir, if you were to read richardson for the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself. but you must read him for the sentiment, and consider the story as only giving occasion to the sentiment.' we talked of gaming, and animadverted on it with severity. johnson. 'nay, gentlemen, let us not aggravate the matter. it is not roguery to play with a man who is ignorant of the game, while you are master of it, and so win his money; for he thinks he can play better than you, as you think you can play better than he; and the superiour skill carries it.' erskine. 'he is a fool, but you are not a rogue.' johnson. 'that's much about the truth, sir. it must be considered, that a man who only does what every one of the society to which he belongs would do, is not a dishonest man. in the republick of sparta, it was agreed, that stealing was not dishonourable, if not discovered. i do not commend a society where there is an agreement that what would not otherwise be fair, shall be fair; but i maintain, that an individual of any society, who practises what is allowed, is not a dishonest man.' boswell. 'so then, sir, you do not think ill of a man who wins perhaps forty thousand pounds in a winter?' johnson. 'sir, i do not call a gamester a dishonest man; but i call him an unsocial man, an unprofitable man. gaming is a mode of transferring property without producing any intermediate good. trade gives employment to numbers, and so produces intermediate good.' on thursday, april , i called on him to beg he would go and dine with me at the mitre tavern. he had resolved not to dine at all this day, i know not for what reason; and i was so unwilling to be deprived of his company, that i was content to submit to suffer a want, which was at first somewhat painful, but he soon made me forget it; and a man is always pleased with himself when he finds his intellectual inclinations predominate. he observed, that to reason philosophically on the nature of prayer, was very unprofitable. talking of ghosts, he said, he knew one friend, who was an honest man and a sensible man, who told him he had seen a ghost, old mr. edward cave, the printer at st. john's gate. he said, mr. cave did not like to talk of it, and seemed to be in great horrour whenever it was mentioned. boswell. 'pray, sir, what did he say was the appearance?' johnson. 'why, sir, something of a shadowy being.' on friday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, where we found dr. goldsmith. i started the question whether duelling was consistent with moral duty. the brave old general fired at this, and said, with a lofty air, 'undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honour.' goldsmith. (turning to me,) 'i ask you first, sir, what would you do if you were affronted?' i answered i should think it necessary to fight. 'why then, (replied goldsmith,) that solves the question.' johnson. 'no, sir, it does not solve the question. it does not follow that what a man would do is therefore right.' i said, i wished to have it settled, whether duelling was contrary to the laws of christianity. johnson immediately entered on the subject, and treated it in a masterly manner; and so far as i have been able to recollect, his thoughts were these: 'sir, as men become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise; which are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to atone for them, though in reality they are not so. a body that has received a very fine polish may be easily hurt. before men arrive at this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbour he lies, his neighbour tells him he lies; if one gives his neighbour a blow, his neighbour gives him a blow: but in a state of highly polished society, an affront is held to be a serious injury. it must therefore be resented, or rather a duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed to banish from their society one who puts up with an affront without fighting a duel. now, sir, it is never unlawful to fight in self-defence. he, then, who fights a duel, does not fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of self-defence; to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. i could wish there was not that superfluity of refinement; but while such notions prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel.' the general told us, that when he was a very young man, i think only fifteen, serving under prince eugene of savoy, he was sitting in a company at table with a prince of wirtemberg. the prince took up a glass of wine, and, by a fillip, made some of it fly in oglethorpe's face. here was a nice dilemma. to have challenged him instantly, might have fixed a quarrelsome character upon the young soldier: to have taken no notice of it might have been considered as cowardice. oglethorpe, therefore, keeping his eye upon the prince, and smiling all the time, as if he took what his highness had done in jest, said 'mon prince,--'. (i forget the french words he used, the purport however was,) 'that's a good joke; but we do it much better in england;' and threw a whole glass of wine in the prince's face. an old general who sat by, said, 'il a bien fait, mon prince, vous l'avez commence:' and thus all ended in good humour. dr. johnson said, 'pray, general, give us an account of the siege of belgrade.' upon which the general, pouring a little wine upon the table, described every thing with a wet finger: 'here we were, here were the turks,' &c. &c. johnson listened with the closest attention. a question was started, how far people who disagree in a capital point can live in friendship together. johnson said they might. goldsmith said they could not, as they had not the idem velle atque idem nolle--the same likings and the same aversions. johnson. 'why, sir, you must shun the subject as to which you disagree. for instance, i can live very well with burke: i love his knowledge, his genius, his diffusion, and affluence of conversation; but i would not talk to him of the rockingham party.' goldsmith. 'but, sir, when people live together who have something as to which they disagree, and which they want to shun, they will be in the situation mentioned in the story of bluebeard: "you may look into all the chambers but one." but we should have the greatest inclination to look into that chamber, to talk of that subject.' johnson. (with a loud voice,) 'sir, i am not saying that you could live in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point: i am only saying that i could do it. you put me in mind of sappho in ovid.' goldsmith told us, that he was now busy in writing a natural history, and, that he might have full leisure for it, he had taken lodgings, at a farmer's house, near to the six milestone, on the edgeware road, and had carried down his books in two returned post-chaises. he said, he believed the farmer's family thought him an odd character, similar to that in which the spectator appeared to his landlady and her children: he was the gentleman. mr. mickle, the translator of the lusiad, and i went to visit him at this place a few days afterwards. he was not at home; but having a curiosity to see his apartment, we went in and found curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil. on saturday, april , he appointed me to come to him in the evening, when he should be at leisure to give me some assistance for the defence of hastie, the schoolmaster of campbelltown, for whom i was to appear in the house of lords. when i came, i found him unwilling to exert himself. i pressed him to write down his thoughts upon the subject. he said, 'there's no occasion for my writing. i'll talk to you.' . . . of our friend, goldsmith, he said, 'sir, he is so much afraid of being unnoticed, that he often talks merely lest you should forget that he is in the company.' boswell. 'yes, he stands forward.' johnson. 'true, sir; but if a man is to stand forward, he should wish to do it not in an aukward posture, not in rags, not so as that he shall only be exposed to ridicule.' boswell. 'for my part, i like very well to hear honest goldsmith talk away carelessly.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but he should not like to hear himself.' . . . on tuesday, april , the decree of the court of session in the schoolmaster's cause was reversed in the house of lords, after a very eloquent speech by lord mansfield, who shewed himself an adept in school discipline, but i thought was too rigorous towards my client. on the evening of the next day i supped with dr. johnson, at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, in company with mr. langton and his brother-in-law, lord binning. i talked of the recent expulsion of six students from the university of oxford, who were methodists and would not desist from publickly praying and exhorting. johnson. 'sir, that expulsion was extremely just and proper. what have they to do at an university who are not willing to be taught, but will presume to teach? where is religion to be learnt but at an university? sir, they were examined, and found to be mighty ignorant fellows.' boswell. 'but, was it not hard, sir, to expel them, for i am told they were good beings?' johnson. 'i believe they might be good beings; but they were not fit to be in the university of oxford. a cow is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of a garden.' lord elibank used to repeat this as an illustration uncommonly happy. desirous of calling johnson forth to talk, and exercise his wit, though i should myself be the object of it, i resolutely ventured to undertake the defence of convivial indulgence in wine, though he was not to-night in the most genial humour. after urging the common plausible topicks, i at last had recourse to the maxim, in vino veritas, a man who is well warmed with wine will speak truth. johnson. 'why, sir, that may be an argument for drinking, if you suppose men in general to be liars. but, sir, i would not keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth out of him.' at this time it appears from his prayers and meditations, that he had been more than commonly diligent in religious duties, particularly in reading the holy scriptures. it was passion week, that solemn season which the christian world has appropriated to the commemoration of the mysteries of our redemption, and during which, whatever embers of religion are in our breasts, will be kindled into pious warmth. i paid him short visits both on friday and saturday, and seeing his large folio greek testament before him, beheld him with a reverential awe, and would not intrude upon his time. while he was thus employed to such good purpose, and while his friends in their intercourse with him constantly found a vigorous intellect and a lively imagination, it is melancholy to read in his private register, 'my mind is unsettled and my memory confused. i have of late turned my thoughts with a very useless earnestness upon past incidents. i have yet got no command over my thoughts; an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hinder my rest.' what philosophick heroism was it in him to appear with such manly fortitude to the world while he was inwardly so distressed! we may surely believe that the mysterious principle of being 'made perfect through suffering' was to be strongly exemplified in him. on sunday, april , being easter-day, general paoli and i paid him a visit before dinner. we talked of sounds. the general said, there was no beauty in a simple sound, but only in an harmonious composition of sounds. i presumed to differ from this opinion, and mentioned the soft and sweet sound of a fine woman's voice. johnson. 'no, sir, if a serpent or a toad uttered it, you would think it ugly.' boswell. 'so you would think, sir, were a beautiful tune to be uttered by one of those animals.' johnson. 'no, sir, it would be admired. we have seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as little as toads.' (laughing.) while i remained in london this spring, i was with him at several other times, both by himself and in company. i dined with him one day at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, with lord elibank, mr. langton, and dr. vansittart of oxford. without specifying each particular day, i have preserved the following memorable things. i regretted the reflection in his preface to shakspeare against garrick, to whom we cannot but apply the following passage: 'i collated such copies as i could procure, and wished for more, but have not found the collectors of these rarities very communicative.' i told him, that garrick had complained to me of it, and had vindicated himself by assuring me, that johnson was made welcome to the full use of his collection, and that he left the key of it with a servant, with orders to have a fire and every convenience for him. i found johnson's notion was, that garrick wanted to be courted for them, and that, on the contrary, garrick should have courted him, and sent him the plays of his own accord. but, indeed, considering the slovenly and careless manner in which books were treated by johnson, it could not be expected that scarce and valuable editions should have been lent to him. a gentleman* having to some of the usual arguments for drinking added this: 'you know, sir, drinking drives away care, and makes us forget whatever is disagreeable. would not you allow a man to drink for that reason?' johnson. 'yes, sir, if he sat next you.' * the gentleman most likely is boswell.--hill. a learned gentleman who in the course of conversation wished to inform us of this simple fact, that the counsel upon the circuit at shrewsbury were much bitten by fleas, took, i suppose, seven or eight minutes in relating it circumstantially. he in a plenitude of phrase told us, that large bales of woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall;--that by reason of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious numbers; that the lodgings of the counsel were near to the town-hall;--and that those little animals moved from place to place with wonderful agility. johnson sat in great impatience till the gentleman had finished his tedious narrative, and then burst out (playfully however), 'it is a pity, sir, that you have not seen a lion; for a flea has taken you such a time, that a lion must have served you a twelvemonth.' he would not allow scotland to derive any credit from lord mansfield; for he was educated in england. 'much (said he,) may be made of a scotchman, if he be caught young.' he said, 'i am very unwilling to read the manuscripts of authours, and give them my opinion. if the authours who apply to me have money, i bid them boldly print without a name; if they have written in order to get money, i tell them to go to the booksellers, and make the best bargain they can.' boswell. 'but, sir, if a bookseller should bring you a manuscript to look at?' johnson. 'why, sir, i would desire the bookseller to take it away.' i mentioned a friend of mine who had resided long in spain, and was unwilling to return to britain. johnson. 'sir, he is attached to some woman.' boswell. 'i rather believe, sir, it is the fine climate which keeps him there.' johnson. 'nay, sir, how can you talk so? what is climate to happiness? place me in the heart of asia, should i not be exiled? what proportion does climate bear to the complex system of human life? you may advise me to go to live at bologna to eat sausages. the sausages there are the best in the world; they lose much by being carried.' on saturday, may , mr. dempster and i had agreed to dine by ourselves at the british coffee-house. johnson, on whom i happened to call in the morning, said he would join us, which he did, and we spent a very agreeable day, though i recollect but little of what passed. he said, 'walpole was a minister given by the king to the people: pitt was a minister given by the people to the king,--as an adjunct.' 'the misfortune of goldsmith in conversation is this: he goes on without knowing how he is to get off. his genius is great, but his knowledge is small. as they say of a generous man, it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of goldsmith, it is a pity he is not knowing. he would not keep his knowledge to himself.' : aetat. .]--in his only publication was an edition of his folio dictionary, with additions and corrections; nor did he, so far as is known, furnish any productions of his fertile pen to any of his numerous friends or dependants, except the preface to his old amanuensis macbean's dictionary of ancient geography. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,-- . . . a new edition of my great dictionary is printed, from a copy which i was persuaded to revise; but having made no preparation, i was able to do very little. some superfluities i have expunged, and some faults i have corrected, and here and there have scattered a remark; but the main fabrick of the work remains as it was. i had looked very little into it since i wrote it, and, i think, i found it full as often better, as worse, than i expected. 'baretti and davies have had a furious quarrel; a quarrel, i think, irreconcileable. dr. goldsmith has a new comedy, which is expected in the spring. no name is yet given it. the chief diversion arises from a stratagem by which a lover is made to mistake his future father-in-law's house for an inn. this, you see, borders upon farce. the dialogue is quick and gay, and the incidents are so prepared as not to seem improbable. . . . 'my health seems in general to improve; but i have been troubled for many weeks with a vexatious catarrh, which is sometimes sufficiently distressful. i have not found any great effects from bleeding and physick; and am afraid, that i must expect help from brighter days and softer air. 'write to me now and then; and whenever any good befalls you, make haste to let me know it, for no one will rejoice at it more than, dear sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, feb. , .' 'you continue to stand very high in the favour of mrs. thrale.' while a former edition of my work was passing through the press, i was unexpectedly favoured with a packet from philadelphia, from mr. james abercrombie, a gentleman of that country, who is pleased to honour me with very high praise of my life of dr. johnson. to have the fame of my illustrious friend, and his faithful biographer, echoed from the new world is extremely flattering; and my grateful acknowledgements shall be wafted across the atlantick. mr. abercrombie has politely conferred on me a considerable additional obligation, by transmitting to me copies of two letters from dr. johnson to american gentlemen. on saturday, april , the day after my arrival in london this year, i went to his house late in the evening, and sat with mrs. williams till he came home. i found in the london chronicle, dr. goldsmith's apology to the publick for beating evans, a bookseller, on account of a paragraph in a newspaper published by him, which goldsmith thought impertinent to him and to a lady of his acquaintance. the apology was written so much in dr. johnson's manner, that both mrs. williams and i supposed it to be his; but when he came home, he soon undeceived us. when he said to mrs. williams, 'well, dr. goldsmith's manifesto has got into your paper;' i asked him if dr. goldsmith had written it, with an air that made him see i suspected it was his, though subscribed by goldsmith. johnson. 'sir, dr. goldsmith would no more have asked me to write such a thing as that for him, than he would have asked me to feed him with a spoon, or to do anything else that denoted his imbecility. i as much believe that he wrote it, as if i had seen him do it. sir, had he shewn it to any one friend, he would not have been allowed to publish it. he has, indeed, done it very well; but it is a foolish thing well done. i suppose he has been so much elated with the success of his new comedy, that he has thought every thing that concerned him must be of importance to the publick.' boswell. 'i fancy, sir, this is the first time that he has been engaged in such an adventure.' johnson. 'why, sir, i believe it is the first time he has beat; he may have been beaten before. this, sir, is a new plume to him.' at mr. thrale's, in the evening, he repeated his usual paradoxical declamation against action in publick speaking. 'action can have no effect upon reasonable minds. it may augment noise, but it never can enforce argument.' lord chesterfield being mentioned, johnson remarked, that almost all of that celebrated nobleman's witty sayings were puns. he, however, allowed the merit of good wit to his lordship's saying of lord tyrawley and himself, when both very old and infirm: 'tyrawley and i have been dead these two years; but we don't choose to have it known.' the conversation having turned on modern imitations of ancient ballads, and some one having praised their simplicity, he treated them with that ridicule which he always displayed when that subject was mentioned. he disapproved of introducing scripture phrases into secular discourse. this seemed to me a question of some difficulty. a scripture expression may be used, like a highly classical phrase, to produce an instantaneous strong impression; and it may be done without being at all improper. yet i own there is danger, that applying the language of our sacred book to ordinary subjects may tend to lessen our reverence for it. if therefore it be introduced at all, it should be with very great caution. on thursday, april , i sat a good part of the evening with him, but he was very silent. though he was not disposed to talk, he was unwilling that i should leave him; and when i looked at my watch, and told him it was twelve o'clock, he cried, what's that to you and me?' and ordered frank to tell mrs. williams that we were coming to drink tea with her, which we did. it was settled that we should go to church together next day. on the th of april, being good friday, i breakfasted with him on tea and cross-buns; doctor levet, as frank called him, making the tea. he carried me with him to the church of st. clement danes, where he had his seat; and his behaviour was, as i had imaged to myself, solemnly devout. i never shall forget the tremulous earnestness with which he pronounced the awful petition in the litany: 'in the hour of death, and at the day of judgement, good lord deliver us. we went to church both in the morning and evening. in the interval between the two services we did not dine; but he read in the greek new testament, and i turned over several of his books. i told him that goldsmith had said to me a few days before, 'as i take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from the taylor, so i take my religion from the priest.' i regretted this loose way of talking. johnson. 'sir, he knows nothing; he has made up his mind about nothing.' to my great surprize he asked me to dine with him on easter-day. i never supposed that he had a dinner at his house; for i had not then heard of any one of his friends having been entertained at his table. he told me, 'i generally have a meat pye on sunday: it is baked at a publick oven, which is very properly allowed, because one man can attend it; and thus the advantage is obtained of not keeping servants from church to dress dinners.' april , being easter-sunday, after having attended divine service at st. paul's, i repaired to dr. johnson's. i had gratified my curiosity much in dining with jean jaques rousseau, while he lived in the wilds of neufchatel: i had as great a curiosity to dine with dr. samuel johnson, in the dusky recess of a court in fleet-street. i supposed we should scarcely have knives and forks, and only some strange, uncouth, ill-drest dish: but i found every thing in very good order. we had no other company but mrs. williams and a young woman whom i did not know. as a dinner here was considered as a singular phaenomenon, and as i was frequently interrogated on the subject, my readers may perhaps be desirous to know our bill of fare. foote, i remember, in allusion to francis, the negro, was willing to suppose that our repast was black broth. but the fact was, that we had a very good soup, a boiled leg of lamb and spinach, a veal pye, and a rice pudding. he owned that he thought hawkesworth was one of his imitators, but he did not think goldsmith was. goldsmith, he said, had great merit. boswell. 'but, sir, he is much indebted to you for his getting so high in the publick estimation.' johnson. 'why, sir, he has perhaps got sooner to it by his intimacy with me.' goldsmith, though his vanity often excited him to occasional competition, had a very high regard for johnson, which he at this time expressed in the strongest manner in the dedication of his comedy, entitled, she stoops to conquer. he told me that he had twelve or fourteen times attempted to keep a journal of his life, but never could persevere. he advised me to do it. 'the great thing to be recorded, (said he,) is the state of your own mind; and you should write down every thing that you remember, for you cannot judge at first what is good or bad; and write immediately while the impression is fresh, for it will not be the same a week afterwards.' i again solicited him to communicate to me the particulars of his early life. he said, 'you shall have them all for two-pence. i hope you shall know a great deal more of me before you write my life.' he mentioned to me this day many circumstances, which i wrote down when i went home, and have interwoven in the former part of this narrative. on tuesday, april , he and dr. goldsmith and i dined at general oglethorpe's. goldsmith expatiated on the common topick, that the race of our people was degenerated, and that this was owing to luxury. johnson. 'sir, in the first place, i doubt the fact. i believe there are as many tall men in england now, as ever there were. but, secondly, supposing the stature of our people to be diminished, that is not owing to luxury; for, sir, consider to how very small a proportion of our people luxury can reach. our soldiery, surely, are not luxurious, who live on sixpence a day; and the same remark will apply to almost all the other classes. luxury, so far as it reaches the poor, will do good to the race of people; it will strengthen and multiply them. sir, no nation was ever hurt by luxury; for, as i said before, it can reach but to a very few. i admit that the great increase of commerce and manufactures hurts the military spirit of a people; because it produces a competition for something else than martial honours,--a competition for riches. it also hurts the bodies of the people; for you will observe, there is no man who works at any particular trade, but you may know him from his appearance to do so. one part or other of his body being more used than the rest, he is in some degree deformed: but, sir, that is not luxury. a tailor sits cross-legged; but that is not luxury.' goldsmith. 'come, you're just going to the same place by another road.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i say that is not luxury. let us take a walk from charing-cross to white-chapel, through, i suppose, the greatest series of shops in the world; what is there in any of these shops (if you except gin-shops,) that can do any human being any harm?' goldsmith. 'well, sir, i'll accept your challenge. the very next shop to northumberland-house is a pickle-shop.' johnson. 'well, sir: do we not know that a maid can in one afternoon make pickles sufficient to serve a whole family for a year? nay, that five pickle-shops can serve all the kingdom? besides, sir, there is no harm done to any body by the making of pickles, or the eating of pickles.' we drank tea with the ladies; and goldsmith sung tony lumpkin's song in his comedy, she stoops to conquer, and a very pretty one, to an irish tune, which he had designed for miss hardcastle; but as mrs. bulkeley, who played the part, could not sing, it was left out. he afterwards wrote it down for me, by which means it was preserved, and now appears amongst his poems. dr. johnson, in his way home, stopped at my lodgings in piccadilly, and sat with me, drinking tea a second time, till a late hour. i told him that mrs. macaulay said, she wondered how he could reconcile his political principles with his moral; his notions of inequality and subordination with wishing well to the happiness of all mankind, who might live so agreeably, had they all their portions of land, and none to domineer over another. johnson. 'why, sir, i reconcile my principles very well, because mankind are happier in a state of inequality and subordination. were they to be in this pretty state of equality, they would soon degenerate into brutes;--they would become monboddo's nation;--their tails would grow. sir, all would be losers were all to work for all--they would have no intellectual improvement. all intellectual improvement arises from leisure; all leisure arises from one working for another.' talking of the family of stuart, he said, 'it should seem that the family at present on the throne has now established as good a right as the former family, by the long consent of the people; and that to disturb this right might be considered as culpable. at the same time i own, that it is a very difficult question, when considered with respect to the house of stuart. to oblige people to take oaths as to the disputed right, is wrong. i know not whether i could take them: but i do not blame those who do.' so conscientious and so delicate was he upon this subject, which has occasioned so much clamour against him. on thursday, april , i dined with him and dr. goldsmith at general paoli's. i spoke of allan ramsay's gentle shepherd, in the scottish dialect, as the best pastoral that had ever been written; not only abounding with beautiful rural imagery, and just and pleasing sentiments, but being a real picture of manners; and i offered to teach dr. johnson to understand it. 'no, sir, (said he,) i won't learn it. you shall retain your superiority by my not knowing it.' it having been observed that there was little hospitality in london;--johnson. 'nay, sir, any man who has a name, or who has the power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in london. the man, sterne, i have been told, has had engagements for three months.' goldsmith. 'and a very dull fellow.' johnson. 'why, no, sir.' martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with charles townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker. johnson. 'why, sir, thus much i can say upon the subject. one day he and a few more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring a friend in his carriage with him. charles townshend asked fitzherbert to go with him, but told him, "you must find somebody to bring you back: i can only carry you there." fitzherbert did not much like this arrangement. he however consented, observing sarcastically, "it will do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in going."' an eminent publick character being mentioned;--johnson. 'i remember being present when he shewed himself to be so corrupted, or at least something so different from what i think right, as to maintain, that a member of parliament should go along with his party right or wrong. now, sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile himself to such a doctrine. it is maintaining that you may lie to the publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong, or the reverse. a friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party, is only waiting to be bought. why then, said i, he is only waiting to be what that gentleman is already.' we talked of the king's coming to see goldsmith's new play.--'i wish he would,' said goldsmith; adding, however, with an affected indifference, 'not that it would do me the least good.' johnson. 'well then, sir, let us say it would do him good, (laughing.) no, sir, this affectation will not pass;--it is mighty idle. in such a state as ours, who would not wish to please the chief magistrate?' goldsmith. 'i do wish to please him. i remember a line in dryden,-- "and every poet is the monarch's friend." it ought to be reversed.' johnson. 'nay, there are finer lines in dryden on this subject:-- "for colleges on bounteous kings depend, and never rebel was to arts a friend."' general paoli observed, that 'successful rebels might.' martinelli. 'happy rebellions.' goldsmith. 'we have no such phrase.' general paoli. 'but have you not the thing?' goldsmith. 'yes; all our happy revolutions. they have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we mend it by another happy revolution.' i never before discovered that my friend goldsmith had so much of the old prejudice in him. general paoli, talking of goldsmith's new play, said, 'il a fait un compliment tres gracieux a une certaine grande dame;' meaning a duchess of the first rank. i expressed a doubt whether goldsmith intended it, in order that i might hear the truth from himself. it, perhaps, was not quite fair to endeavour to bring him to a confession, as he might not wish to avow positively his taking part against the court. he smiled and hesitated. the general at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: 'monsieur goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beaucoup d'autres belles choses, sans s'en appercevoir.' goldsmith. 'tres bien dit et tres elegamment.' a person was mentioned, who it was said could take down in short hand the speeches in parliament with perfect exactness. johnson. 'sir, it is impossible. i remember one, angel, who came to me to write for him a preface or dedication to a book upon short hand, and he professed to write as fast as a man could speak. in order to try him, i took down a book, and read while he wrote; and i favoured him, for i read more deliberately than usual. i had proceeded but a very little way, when he begged i would desist, for he could not follow me.' hearing now for the first time of this preface or dedication, i said, 'what an expense, sir, do you put us to in buying books, to which you have written prefaces or dedications.' johnson. 'why, i have dedicated to the royal family all round; that is to say, to the last generation of the royal family.' goldsmith. 'and perhaps, sir, not one sentence of wit in a whole dedication.' johnson. 'perhaps not, sir.' boswell. 'what then is the reason for applying to a particular person to do that which any one may do as well?' johnson. 'why, sir, one man has greater readiness at doing it than another.' i spoke of mr. harris, of salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent grecian. johnson. 'i am not sure of that. his friends give him out as such, but i know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.' goldsmith. 'he is what is much better: he is a worthy humane man.' johnson. 'nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as giardini, as that he is an eminent grecian.' goldsmith. 'the greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. giardini, i am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.' johnson. 'that is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. there is nothing, i think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. in all other things we can do something at first. any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. a man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.' on monday, april , he called on me with mrs. williams, in mr. strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine with mr. elphinston, at his academy at kensington. a printer having acquired a fortune sufficient to keep his coach, was a good topick for the credit of literature. mrs. williams said, that another printer, mr. hamilton, had not waited so long as mr. strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner. johnson. 'he was in the right. life is short. the sooner that a man begins to enjoy his wealth the better.' mr. elphinston talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked dr. johnson if he had read it. johnson. 'i have looked into it.' 'what, (said elphinston,) have you not read it through?' johnson, offended at being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading, answered tartly, 'no, sir, do you read books through?' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's. a gentleman attacked garrick for being vain. johnson. 'no wonder, sir, that he is vain; a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be conceived. so many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is not by this time become a cinder.' boswell. 'and such bellows too. lord mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: lord chatham like an aeolus. i have read such notes from them to him, as were enough to turn his head.' johnson. 'true. when he whom every body else flatters, flatters me, i then am truly happy.' mrs. thrale. 'the sentiment is in congreve, i think.' johnson. 'yes, madam, in the way of the world: "if there's delight in love, 'tis when i see that heart which others bleed for, bleed for me." no, sir, i should not be surprized though garrick chained the ocean, and lashed the winds.' boswell. 'should it not be, sir, lashed the ocean and chained the winds?' johnson. 'no, sir, recollect the original: "in corum atque eurum solitus saevire flagellis barbarus, aeolia nunquam hoc in carcere passos, ipsum compedibus qui vinxerat ennosigaeum." the modes of living in different countries, and the various views with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having been talked of, a learned gentleman who holds a considerable office in the law, expatiated on the happiness of a savage life; and mentioned an instance of an officer who had actually lived for some time in the wilds of america, of whom, when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: 'here am i, free and unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of nature, with this indian woman by my side, and this gun with which i can procure food when i want it; what more can be desired for human happiness?' it did not require much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not be permitted to pass without due animadversion. johnson. 'do not allow yourself, sir, to be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. it is sad stuff; it is brutish. if a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim,--here am i with this cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?' we talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman who had destroyed himself. johnson. 'it was owing to imaginary difficulties in his affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, would soon have vanished.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, that all who commit suicide are mad?' johnson. 'sir, they are often not universally disordered in their intellects, but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it, and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another.' he added, 'i have often thought, that after a man has taken the resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, however desperate, because he has nothing to fear.' goldsmith. 'i don't see that.' johnson. 'nay, but my dear sir, why should not you see what every one else sees?' goldsmith. 'it is for fear of something that he has resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain him?' johnson. 'it does not signify that the fear of something made him resolve; it is upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that i argue. suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is taken, he has nothing to fear. he may then go and take the king of prussia by the nose, at the head of his army. he cannot fear the rack, who is resolved to kill himself. when eustace budgel was walking down to the thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he pleased, without any apprehension of danger, have turned aside, and first set fire to st. james's palace.' on tuesday, april , mr. beauclerk and i called on him in the morning. as we walked up johnson's-court, i said, 'i have a veneration for this court;' and was glad to find that beauclerk had the same reverential enthusiasm. we found him alone. we talked of mr. andrew stuart's elegant and plausible letters to lord mansfield: a copy of which had been sent by the authour to dr. johnson. johnson. 'they have not answered the end. they have not been talked of; i have never heard of them. this is owing to their not being sold. people seldom read a book which is given to them; and few are given. the way to spread a work is to sell it at a low price. no man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence, without an intention to read it.' he said, 'goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine in conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance, a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part of his wit. now goldsmith's putting himself against another, is like a man laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. it is not worth a man's while. a man should not lay a hundred to one, unless he can easily spare it, though he has a hundred chances for him: he can get but a guinea, and he may lose a hundred. goldsmith is in this state. when he contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the better, he is miserably vexed.' johnson's own superlative powers of wit set him above any risk of such uneasiness. garrick had remarked to me of him, a few days before, 'rabelais and all other wits are nothing compared with him. you may be diverted by them; but johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes laughter out of you, whether you will or no.' goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even when he entered the lists with johnson himself. sir joshua reynolds was in company with them one day, when goldsmith said, that he thought he could write a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the animals introduced seldom talk in character. 'for instance, (said he,) the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and envying them, petitioned jupiter to be changed into birds. the skill (continued he,) consists in making them talk like little fishes.' while he indulged himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed johnson shaking his sides, and laughing. upon which he smartly proceeded, 'why, dr. johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, where were sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, dr. goldsmith, and mr. thrale. i was very desirous to get dr. johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution to go with me to the hebrides this year; and i told him that i had received a letter from dr. robertson the historian, upon the subject, with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such a manner of his long-intended tour, that i was satisfied he meant to fulfil his engagement. the character of mallet having been introduced, and spoken of slightingly by goldsmith; johnson. 'why, sir, mallet had talents enough to keep his literary reputation alive as long as he himself lived; and that, let me tell you, is a good deal.' goldsmith. 'but i cannot agree that it was so. his literary reputation was dead long before his natural death. i consider an authour's literary reputation to be alive only while his name will ensure a good price for his copy from the booksellers. i will get you (to johnson,) a hundred guineas for any thing whatever that you shall write, if you put your name to it.' dr. goldsmith's new play, she stoops to conquer, being mentioned; johnson. 'i know of no comedy for many years that has so much exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of comedy--making an audience merry.' goldsmith having said, that garrick's compliment to the queen, which he introduced into the play of the chances, which he had altered and revised this year, was mean and gross flattery; johnson. 'why, sir, i would not write, i would not give solemnly under my hand, a character beyond what i thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let it flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular. it has always been formular to flatter kings and queens; so much so, that even in our church-service we have "our most religious king," used indiscriminately, whoever is king. nay, they even flatter themselves;--"we have been graciously pleased to grant." no modern flattery, however, is so gross as that of the augustan age, where the emperour was deified. "proesens divus habebitur augustus." and as to meanness, (rising into warmth,) how is it mean in a player,--a showman,--a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter his queen? the attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for if it had missed, what became of garrick, and what became of the queen? as sir william temple says of a great general, it is necessary not only that his designs be formed in a masterly manner, but that they should be attended with success. sir, it is right, at a time when the royal family is not generally liked, to let it be seen that the people like at least one of them.' sir joshua reynolds. 'i do not perceive why the profession of a player should be despised; for the great and ultimate end of all the employments of mankind is to produce amusement. garrick produces more amusement than any body.' boswell. 'you say, dr. johnson, that garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. in this respect he is only on a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself for his fee, and even will maintain any nonsense or absurdity, if the case requires it. garrick refuses a play or a part which he does not like; a lawyer never refuses.' johnson. 'why, sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer is worse. boswell is now like jack in the tale of a tub, who, when he is puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. he thinks i shall cut him down, but i'll let him hang.' (laughing vociferously.) sir joshua reynolds. 'mr. boswell thinks that the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably honourable, if he can show the profession of a player to be more honourable, he proves his argument.' on friday, april , i dined with him at mr. beauclerk's, where were lord charlemont, sir joshua reynolds, and some more members of the literary club, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as i was this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that distinguished society. johnson had done me the honour to propose me, and beauclerk was very zealous for me. goldsmith being mentioned; johnson. 'it is amazing how little goldsmith knows. he seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.' sir joshua reynolds. 'yet there is no man whose company is more liked.' johnson. 'to be sure, sir. when people find a man of the most distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them. what goldsmith comically says of himself is very true,--he always gets the better when he argues alone; meaning, that he is master of a subject in his study, and can write well upon it; but when he comes into company, grows confused, and unable to talk. take him as a poet, his traveller is a very fine performance; ay, and so is his deserted village, were it not sometimes too much the echo of his traveller. whether, indeed, we take him as a poet,--as a comick writer,--or as an historian, he stands in the first class.' boswell. 'an historian! my dear sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the roman history with the works of other historians of this age?' johnson. 'why, who are before him?' boswell. 'hume,--robertson,--lord lyttelton.' johnson (his antipathy to the scotch beginning to rise). 'i have not read hume; but, doubtless, goldsmith's history is better than the verbiage of robertson, or the foppery of dalrymple.' boswell. 'will you not admit the superiority of robertson, in whose history we find such penetration--such painting?' johnson. 'sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. it is not history, it is imagination. he who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. robertson paints minds as sir joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic countenance. you must look upon robertson's work as romance, and try it by that standard. history it is not. besides, sir, it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold. goldsmith has done this in his history. now robertson might have put twice as much into his book. robertson is like a man who has packed gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. no, sir; i always thought robertson would be crushed by his own weight,--would be buried under his own ornaments. goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know: robertson detains you a great deal too long. no man will read robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but goldsmith's plain narrative will please again and again. i would say to robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: "read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out." goldsmith's abridgement is better than that of lucius florus or eutropius; and i will venture to say, that if you compare him with vertot, in the same places of the roman history, you will find that he excels vertot. sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner. he is now writing a natural history and will make it as entertaining as a persian tale.' i cannot dismiss the present topick without observing, that it is probable that dr. johnson, who owned that he often 'talked for victory,' rather urged plausible objections to dr. robertson's excellent historical works, in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and decided opinion; for it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely differ from the rest of the literary world. johnson. 'i remember once being with goldsmith in westminster-abbey. while we surveyed the poets' corner, i said to him, "forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis." when we got to temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it, and slily whispered me, "forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."'* * in allusion to dr. johnson's supposed political principles, and perhaps his own. boswell. johnson praised john bunyan highly. 'his pilgrim's progress has great merit, both for invention, imagination, and the conduct of the story; and it has had the best evidence of its merit, the general and continued approbation of mankind. few books, i believe, have had a more extensive sale. it is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of dante; yet there was no translation of dante when bunyan wrote. there is reason to think that he had read spenser.' a proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons should, for the time to come, be erected in st. paul's church as well as in westminster-abbey, was mentioned; and it was asked, who should be honoured by having his monument first erected there. somebody suggested pope. johnson. 'why, sir, as pope was a roman catholick, i would not have his to be first. i think milton's rather should have the precedence. i think more highly of him now than i did at twenty. there is more thinking in him and in butler, than in any of our poets.' the gentlemen went away to their club, and i was left at beauclerk's till the fate of my election should be announced to me. i sat in a state of anxiety which even the charming conversation of lady di beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. in a short time i received the agreeable intelligence that i was chosen. i hastened to the place of meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found. mr. edmund burke, whom i then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents had long made me ardently wish for his acquaintance; dr. nugent, mr. garrick, dr. goldsmith, mr. (afterwards sir william) jones, and the company with whom i had dined. upon my entrance, johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality gave me a charge, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a good member of this club. goldsmith produced some very absurd verses which had been publickly recited to an audience for money. johnson. 'i can match this nonsense. there was a poem called eugenio, which came out some years ago, and concludes thus: "and now, ye trifling, self-assuming elves, brimful of pride, of nothing, of yourselves, survey eugenio, view him o'er and o'er, then sink into yourselves, and be no more." nay, dryden in his poem on the royal society, has these lines: "then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, and see the ocean leaning on the sky; from thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, and on the lunar world securely pry."' much pleasant conversation passed, which johnson relished with great good humour. but his conversation alone, or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the business of this work. on saturday, may , we dined by ourselves at our old rendezvous, the mitre tavern. he was placid, but not much disposed to talk. he observed that 'the irish mix better with the english than the scotch do; their language is nearer to english; as a proof of which, they succeed very well as players, which scotchmen do not. then, sir, they have not that extreme nationality which we find in the scotch. i will do you, boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most unscottified of your countrymen. you are almost the only instance of a scotchman that i have known, who did not at every other sentence bring in some other scotchman.' on friday, may , i breakfasted with him at mr. thrale's in the borough. while we were alone, i endeavoured as well as i could to apologise for a lady who had been divorced from her husband by act of parliament. i said, that he had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and that she could not continue to live with him without having her delicacy contaminated; that all affection for him was thus destroyed; that the essence of conjugal union being gone, there remained only a cold form, a mere civil obligation; that she was in the prime of life, with qualities to produce happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and, that the gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained her heart while thus unhappily situated. seduced, perhaps, by the charms of the lady in question, i thus attempted to palliate what i was sensible could not be justified; for when i had finished my harangue, my venerable friend gave me a proper check: 'my dear sir, never accustom your mind to mingle virtue and vice. the woman's a whore, and there's an end on't.' he described the father of one of his friends thus: 'sir, he was so exuberant a talker at publick meeting, that the gentlemen of his county were afraid of him. no business could be done for his declamation.' he did not give me full credit when i mentioned that i had carried on a short conversation by signs with some esquimaux who were then in london, particularly with one of them who was a priest. he thought i could not make them understand me. no man was more incredulous as to particular facts, which were at all extraordinary; and therefore no man was more scrupulously inquisitive, in order to discover the truth. i dined with him this day at the house of my friends, messieurs edward and charles dilly, booksellers in the poultry: there were present, their elder brother mr. dilly of bedfordshire, dr. goldsmith, mr. langton, mr. claxton, reverend dr. mayo a dissenting minister, the reverend mr. toplady, and my friend the reverend mr. temple. boswell. 'i am well assured that the people of otaheite who have the bread tree, the fruit of which serves them for bread, laughed heartily when they were informed of the tedious process necessary with us to have bread;--plowing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, threshing, grinding, baking.' johnson. 'why, sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when they are told of the advantages of civilized life. were you to tell men who live without houses, how we pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon rafter, and that after a house is raised to a certain height, a man tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks his neck; he would laugh heartily at our folly in building; but it does not follow that men are better without houses. no, sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is better than the bread tree.' i introduced the subject of toleration. johnson. 'every society has a right to preserve publick peace and order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of opinions which have a dangerous tendency. to say the magistrate has this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the society for which the magistrate is agent. he may be morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politically right.' mayo. 'i am of opinion, sir, that every man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the magistrate cannot restrain that right.' johnson. 'sir, i agree with you. every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere. people confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking; nay, with liberty of preaching. every man has a physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how he thinks. he has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself, and think justly. but, sir, no member of a society has a right to teach any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true. the magistrate, i say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks.' mayo. 'then, sir, we are to remain always in errour, and truth never can prevail; and the magistrate was right in persecuting the first christians.' johnson. 'sir, the only method by which religious truth can be established is by martyrdom. the magistrate has a right to enforce what he thinks; and he who is conscious of the truth has a right to suffer. i am afraid there is no other way of ascertaining the truth, but by persecution on the one hand and enduring it on the other.' goldsmith. 'but how is a man to act, sir? though firmly convinced of the truth of his doctrine, may he not think it wrong to expose himself to persecution? has he a right to do so? is it not, as it were, committing voluntary suicide?' johnson. 'sir, as to voluntary suicide, as you call it, there are twenty thousand men in an army who will go without scruple to be shot at, and mount a breach for five-pence a day.' goldsmith. 'but have they a moral right to do this?' johnson. 'nay, sir, if you will not take the universal opinion of mankind, i have nothing to say. if mankind cannot defend their own way of thinking, i cannot defend it. sir, if a man is in doubt whether it would be better for him to expose himself to martyrdom or not, he should not do it. he must be convinced that he has a delegation from heaven.' goldsmith. 'i would consider whether there is the greater chance of good or evil upon the whole. if i see a man who had fallen into a well, i would wish to help him out; but if there is a greater probability that he shall pull me in, than that i shall pull him out, i would not attempt it. so were i to go to turkey, i might wish to convert the grand signor to the christian faith; but when i considered that i should probably be put to death without effectuating my purpose in any degree, i should keep myself quiet.' johnson. 'sir, you must consider that we have perfect and imperfect obligations. perfect obligations, which are generally not to do something, are clear and positive; as, "thou shalt not kill?' but charity, for instance, is not definable by limits. it is a duty to give to the poor; but no man can say how much another should give to the poor, or when a man has given too little to save his soul. in the same manner it is a duty to instruct the ignorant, and of consequence to convert infidels to christianity; but no man in the common course of things is obliged to carry this to such a degree as to incur the danger of martyrdom, as no man is obliged to strip himself to the shirt in order to give charity. i have said, that a man must be persuaded that he has a particular delegation from heaven.' goldsmith. 'how is this to be known? our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing bread and wine to be christ'--johnson. (interrupting him,) 'sir, they were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be christ, but for insulting those who did believe it. and, sir, when the first reformers began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could.' boswell. 'but, sir, there was your countryman, elwal, who you told me challenged king george with his black-guards, and his red-guards.' johnson. 'my countryman, elwal, sir, should have been put in the stocks; a proper pulpit for him; and he'd have had a numerous audience. a man who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers enough.' boswell. 'but elwal thought himself in the right.' johnson. 'we are not providing for mad people; there are places for them in the neighbourhood.' (meaning moorfields.) mayo. 'but, sir, is it not very hard that i should not be allowed to teach my children what i really believe to be the truth?' johnson. 'why, sir, you might contrive to teach your children extra scandalum; but, sir, the magistrate, if he knows it, has a right to restrain you. suppose you teach your children to be thieves?' mayo. 'this is making a joke of the subject.' johnson. 'nay, sir, take it thus:--that you teach them the community of goods; for which there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines. you teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no man had a right to any thing but as he laid his hands upon it; and that this still is, or ought to be, the rule amongst mankind. here, sir, you sap a great principle in society,--property. and don't you think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? or, suppose you should teach your children the notion of the adamites, and they should run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog 'em into their doublets?' mayo. 'i think the magistrate has no right to interfere till there is some overt act.' boswell. 'so, sir, though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is fired off?' mayo. 'he must be sure of its direction against the state.' johnson. 'the magistrate is to judge of that.--he has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil centers in yourself. if a man were sitting at this table, and chopping off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness as a parent.--though, indeed, upon more consideration, i think he may; as it is probable, that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off those of other people. if i think it right to steal mr. dilly's plate, i am a bad man; but he can say nothing to me. if i make an open declaration that i think so, he will keep me out of his house. if i put forth my hand, i shall be sent to newgate. this is the gradation of thinking, preaching, and acting: if a man thinks erroneously, he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place, and he is hanged.' mayo. 'but, sir, ought not christians to have liberty of conscience?' johnson. 'i have already told you so, sir. you are coming back to where you were.' boswell. 'dr. mayo is always taking a return post-chaise, and going the stage over again. he has it at half price.' johnson. 'dr. mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration, has got a set of words. sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the magistrate be right or wrong. suppose a club were to be formed, to drink confusion to king george the third, and a happy restoration to charles the third, this would be very bad with respect to the state; but every member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out of it. old baxter, i remember, maintains, that the magistrate should "tolerate all things that are tolerable." this is no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it shows that he thought some things were not tolerable.' toplady. 'sir, you have untwisted this difficult subject with great dexterity.' during this argument, goldsmith sat in restless agitation, from a wish to get in and shine. finding himself excluded, he had taken his hat to go away, but remained for some time with it in his hand, like a gamester, who at the close of a long night, lingers for a little while, to see if he can have a favourable opening to finish with success. once when he was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud voice of johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table, and did not perceive goldsmith's attempt. thus disappointed of his wish to obtain the attention of the company, goldsmith in a passion threw down his hat, looking angrily at johnson, and exclaiming in a bitter tone, 'take it.' when toplady was going to speak, johnson uttered some sound, which led goldsmith to think that he was beginning again, and taking the words from toplady. upon which, he seized this opportunity of venting his own envy and spleen, under the pretext of supporting another person: 'sir, (said he to johnson,) the gentleman has heard you patiently for an hour; pray allow us now to hear him.' johnson. (sternly,) 'sir, i was not interrupting the gentleman. i was only giving him a signal of my attention. sir, you are impertinent.' goldsmith made no reply, but continued in the company for some time. a gentleman present ventured to ask dr. johnson if there was not a material difference as to toleration of opinions which lead to action, and opinions merely speculative; for instance, would it be wrong in the magistrate to tolerate those who preach against the doctrine of the trinity? johnson was highly offended, and said, 'i wonder, sir, how a gentleman of your piety can introduce this subject in a mixed company.' he told me afterwards, that the impropriety was, that perhaps some of the company might have talked on the subject in such terms as might have shocked him; or he might have been forced to appear in their eyes a narrow-minded man. the gentleman, with submissive deference, said, he had only hinted at the question from a desire to hear dr. johnson's opinion upon it. johnson. 'why then, sir, i think that permitting men to preach any opinion contrary to the doctrine of the established church tends, in a certain degree, to lessen the authority of the church, and consequently, to lessen the influence of religion.' 'it may be considered, (said the gentleman,) whether it would not be politick to tolerate in such a case.' johnson. 'sir, we have been talking of right: this is another question. i think it is not politick to tolerate in such a case.' boswell. 'pray, mr. dilly, how does dr. leland's history of ireland sell?' johnson. (bursting forth with a generous indignation,) 'the irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority. there is no instance, even in the ten persecutions, of such severity as that which the protestants of ireland have exercised against the catholicks. did we tell them we have conquered them, it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice. king william was not their lawful sovereign: he had not been acknowledged by the parliament of ireland, when they appeared in arms against him.' he and mr. langton and i went together to the club, where we found mr. burke, mr. garrick, and some other members, and amongst them our friend goldsmith, who sat silently brooding over johnson's reprimand to him after dinner. johnson perceived this, and said aside to some of us, 'i'll make goldsmith forgive me;' and then called to him in a loud voice, 'dr. goldsmith,--something passed to-day where you and i dined; i ask your pardon.' goldsmith answered placidly, 'it must be much from you, sir, that i take ill.' and so at once the difference was over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and goldsmith rattled away as usual. in our way to the club to-night, when i regretted that goldsmith would, upon every occasion, endeavour to shine, by which he often exposed himself, mr. langton observed, that he was not like addison, who was content with the fame of his writings, and did not aim also at excellency in conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that he said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in company, 'madam, i have but ninepence in ready money, but i can draw for a thousand pounds.' i observed, that goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but, not content with that, was always taking out his purse. johnson. 'yes, sir, and that so often an empty purse!' goldsmith's incessant desire of being conspicuous in company, was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such disadvantage as one should hardly have supposed possible in a man of his genius. when his literary reputation had risen deservedly high, and his society was much courted, he became very jealous of the extraordinary attention which was every where paid to johnson. one evening, in a circle of wits, he found fault with me for talking of johnson as entitled to the honour of unquestionable superiority. 'sir, (said he,) you are for making a monarchy of what should be a republick.' he was still more mortified, when talking in a company with fluent vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the admiration of all who were present; a german who sat next him, and perceived johnson rolling himself, as if about to speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, 'stay, stay,--toctor shonson is going to say something.' this was, no doubt, very provoking, especially to one so irritable as goldsmith, who frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indignation. it may also be observed, that goldsmith was sometimes content to be treated with an easy familiarity, but, upon occasions, would be consequential and important. an instance of this occurred in a small particular. johnson had a way of contracting the names of his friends; as beauclerk, beau; boswell, bozzy; langton, lanky; murphy, mur; sheridan, sherry. i remember one day, when tom davies was telling that dr. johnson said, 'we are all in labour for a name to goldy's play,' goldsmith seemed displeased that such a liberty should be taken with his name, and said, 'i have often desired him not to call me goldy.' tom was remarkably attentive to the most minute circumstance about johnson. i recollect his telling me once, on my arrival in london, 'sir, our great friend has made an improvement on his appellation of old mr. sheridan. he calls him now sherry derry.' on monday, may , as i was to set out on my return to scotland next morning, i was desirous to see as much of dr. johnson as i could. but i first called on goldsmith to take leave of him. the jealousy and envy which, though possessed of many most amiable qualities, he frankly avowed, broke out violently at this interview. upon another occasion, when goldsmith confessed himself to be of an envious disposition, i contended with johnson that we ought not to be angry with him, he was so candid in owning it. 'nay, sir, (said johnson,) we must be angry that a man has such a superabundance of an odious quality, that he cannot keep it within his own breast, but it boils over.' in my opinion, however, goldsmith had not more of it than other people have, but only talked of it freely. he now seemed very angry that johnson was going to be a traveller; said 'he would be a dead weight for me to carry, and that i should never be able to lug him along through the highlands and hebrides.' nor would he patiently allow me to enlarge upon johnson's wonderful abilities; but exclaimed, 'is he like burke, who winds into a subject like a serpent?' 'but, (said i,) johnson is the hercules who strangled serpents in his cradle.' i dined with dr. johnson at general paoli's. he was obliged, by indisposition, to leave the company early; he appointed me, however, to meet him in the evening at mr. (now sir robert) chambers's in the temple, where he accordingly came, though he continued to be very ill. chambers, as is common on such occasions, prescribed various remedies to him. johnson. (fretted by pain,) 'pr'ythee don't tease me. stay till i am well, and then you shall tell me how to cure myself.' he grew better, and talked with a noble enthusiasm of keeping up the representation of respectable families. his zeal on this subject was a circumstance in his character exceedingly remarkable, when it is considered that he himself had no pretensions to blood. i heard him once say, 'i have great merit in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for i can hardly tell who was my grandfather.' he maintained the dignity and propriety of male succession, in opposition to the opinion of one of our friends, who had that day employed mr. chambers to draw his will, devising his estate to his three sisters, in preference to a remote heir male. johnson called them 'three dowdies,' and said, with as high a spirit as the boldest baron in the most perfect days of the feudal system, 'an ancient estate should always go to males. it is mighty foolish to let a stranger have it because he marries your daughter, and takes your name. as for an estate newly acquired by trade, you may give it, if you will, to the dog towser, and let him keep his own name.' i have known him at times exceedingly diverted at what seemed to others a very small sport. he now laughed immoderately, without any reason that we could perceive, at our friend's making his will; called him the testator, and added, 'i dare say, he thinks he has done a mighty thing. he won't stay till he gets home to his seat in the country, to produce this wonderful deed: he'll call up the landlord of the first inn on the road; and, after a suitable preface upon mortality and the uncertainty of life, will tell him that he should not delay making his will; and here, sir, will he say, is my will, which i have just made, with the assistance of one of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom; and he will read it to him (laughing all the time). he believes he has made this will; but he did not make it: you, chambers, made it for him. i trust you have had more conscience than to make him say, "being of sound understanding;" ha, ha, ha! i hope he has left me a legacy. i'd have his will turned into verse, like a ballad.' mr. chambers did not by any means relish this jocularity upon a matter of which pars magna fuit, and seemed impatient till he got rid of us. johnson could not stop his merriment, but continued it all the way till we got without the temple-gate. he then burst into such a fit of laughter, that he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order to support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the silence of the night his voice seemed to resound from temple-bar to fleet-ditch. this most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, and venerable johnson, happened well to counteract the feelings of sadness which i used to experience when parting with him for a considerable time. i accompanied him to his door, where he gave me his blessing. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--i shall set out from london on friday the sixth of this month, and purpose not to loiter much by the way. which day i shall be at edinburgh, i cannot exactly tell. i suppose i must drive to an inn, and send a porter to find you. 'i am afraid beattie will not be at his college soon enough for us, and i shall be sorry to miss him; but there is no staying for the concurrence of all conveniences. we will do as well as we can. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'august , .' 'sam. johnson.' to james boswell, esq. 'newcastle, aug. , . 'dear sir, i came hither last night, and hope, but do not absolutely promise, to be in edinburgh on saturday. beattie will not come so soon. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'my compliments to your lady.' 'sam. johnson.' to the same. 'mr. johnson sends his compliments to mr. boswell, being just arrived at boyd's.--saturday night.' his stay in scotland was from the th of august, on which day he arrived, till the nd of november, when he set out on his return to london; and i believe ninety-four days were never passed by any man in a more vigorous exertion.* * in his journal of a tour to the hebrides, published the year after johnson died, boswell gives a detailed account of johnson's conversation and adventures with him throughout the journey of . partly owing to their uninterrupted association, partly to the strangeness and variation of background and circumstances, and partly to boswell's larger leisure during the tour for the elaboration of his account, the journal is even more racy, picturesque, and interesting than any equal part of the life. no reader who enjoys the life should fail to read the tour--unabridged!--ed. his humane forgiving disposition was put to a pretty strong test on his return to london, by a liberty which mr. thomas davies had taken with him in his absence, which was, to publish two volumes, entitled, miscellaneous and fugitive pieces, which he advertised in the news-papers, 'by the authour of the rambler.' in this collection, several of dr. johnson's acknowledged writings, several of his anonymous performances, and some which he had written for others, were inserted; but there were also some in which he had no concern whatever. he was at first very angry, as he had good reason to be. but, upon consideration of his poor friend's narrow circumstances, and that he had only a little profit in view, and meant no harm, he soon relented, and continued his kindness to him as formerly. in the course of his self-examination with retrospect to this year, he seems to have been much dejected; for he says, january , , 'this year has passed with so little improvement, that i doubt whether i have not rather impaired than increased my learning'; and yet we have seen how he read, and we know how he talked during that period. he was now seriously engaged in writing an account of our travels in the hebrides, in consequence of which i had the pleasure of a more frequent correspondence with him. 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir,--you have reason to reproach me that i have left your last letter so long unanswered, but i had nothing particular to say. chambers, you find, is gone far, and poor goldsmith is gone much further. he died of a fever, exasperated, as i believe, by the fear of distress. he had raised money and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisition, and folly of expence. but let not his frailties be remembered; he was a very great man. 'i have just begun to print my journey to the hebrides, and am leaving the press to take another journey into wales, whither mr. thrale is going, to take possession of, at least, five hundred a year, fallen to his lady. all at streatham, that are alive, are well. 'i have never recovered from the last dreadful illness, but flatter myself that i grow gradually better; much, however, yet remains to mend. [greek text omitted]. 'if you have the latin version of busy, curious, thirsty fly, be so kind as to transcribe and send it; but you need not be in haste, for i shall be i know not where, for at least five weeks. i wrote the following tetastrick on poor goldsmith:-- [greek text omitted] 'please to make my most respectful compliments to all the ladies, and remember me to young george and his sisters. i reckon george begins to shew a pair of heels. 'do not be sullen now, but let me find a letter when i come back. i am, dear sir, your affectionate, humble servant, 'sam. johnson. 'july , .' in his manuscript diary of this year, there is the following entry:-- 'nov. . advent sunday. i considered that this day, being the beginning of the ecclesiastical year, was a proper time for a new course of life. i began to read the greek testament regularly at verses every sunday. this day i began the acts. 'in this week i read virgil's pastorals. i learned to repeat the pollio and gallus. i read carelessly the first georgick.' such evidences of his unceasing ardour, both for 'divine and human lore,' when advanced into his sixty-fifth year, and notwithstanding his many disturbances from disease, must make us at once honour his spirit, and lament that it should be so grievously clogged by its material tegument. : aetat. .]-- 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . '. . . as to macpherson,' i am anxious to have from yourself a full and pointed account of what has passed between you and him. it is confidently told here, that before your book came out he sent to you, to let you know that he understood you meant to deny the authenticity of ossian's poems; that the originals were in his possession; that you might have inspection of them, and might take the evidence of people skilled in the erse language; and that he hoped, after this fair offer, you would not be so uncandid as to assert that he had refused reasonable proof. that you paid no regard to his message, but published your strong attack upon him; and then he wrote a letter to you, in such terms as he thought suited to one who had not acted as a man of veracity.' . . . what words were used by mr. macpherson in his letter to the venerable sage, i have never heard; but they are generally said to have been of a nature very different from the language of literary contest. dr. johnson's answer appeared in the news-papers of the day, and has since been frequently re-published; but not with perfect accuracy. i give it as dictated to me by himself, written down in his presence, and authenticated by a note in his own handwriting, 'this, i think, is a true copy.' 'mr. james macpherson,--i received your foolish and impudent letter. any violence offered me i shall do my best to repel; and what i cannot do for myself, the law shall do for me. i hope i shall never be deterred from detecting what i think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian. 'what would you have me retract? i thought your book an imposture; i think it an imposture still. for this opinion i have given my reasons to the publick, which i here dare you to refute. your rage i defy. your abilities, since your homer, are not so formidable; and what i hear of your morals, inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. you may print this if you will.' 'sam. johnson.' mr. macpherson little knew the character of dr. johnson, if he supposed that he could be easily intimidated; for no man was ever more remarkable for personal courage. he had, indeed, an aweful dread of death, or rather, 'of something after death;' and what rational man, who seriously thinks of quitting all that he has ever known, and going into a new and unknown state of being, can be without that dread? but his fear was from reflection; his courage natural. his fear, in that one instance, was the result of philosophical and religious consideration. he feared death, but he feared nothing else, not even what might occasion death. many instances of his resolution may be mentioned. one day, at mr. beauclerk's house in the country, when two large dogs were fighting, he went up to them, and beat them till they separated; and at another time, when told of the danger there was that a gun might burst if charged with many balls, he put in six or seven, and fired it off against a wall. mr. langton told me, that when they were swimming together near oxford, he cautioned dr. johnson against a pool, which was reckoned particularly dangerous; upon which johnson directly swam into it. he told me himself that one night he was attacked in the street by four men, to whom he would not yield, but kept them all at bay, till the watch came up, and carried both him and them to the round-house. in the playhouse at lichfield, as mr. garrick informed me, johnson having for a moment quitted a chair which was placed for him between the side-scenes, a gentleman took possession of it, and when johnson on his return civilly demanded his seat, rudely refused to give it up; upon which johnson laid hold of it, and tossed him and the chair into the pit. foote, who so successfully revived the old comedy, by exhibiting living characters, had resolved to imitate johnson on the stage, expecting great profits from his ridicule of so celebrated a man. johnson being informed of his intention, and being at dinner at mr. thomas davies's the bookseller, from whom i had the story, he asked mr. davies 'what was the common price of an oak stick;' and being answered six-pence, 'why then, sir, (said he,) give me leave to send your servant to purchase me a shilling one. i'll have a double quantity; for i am told foote means to take me off, as he calls it, and i am determined the fellow shall not do it with impunity. davies took care to acquaint foote of this, which effectually checked the wantonness of the mimick. mr. macpherson's menaces made johnson provide himself with the same implement of defence; and had he been attacked, i have no doubt that, old as he was, he would have made his corporal prowess be felt as much as his intellectual. his journey to the western islands of scotland is a most valuable performance. johnson's grateful acknowledgements of kindnesses received in the course of this tour, completely refute the brutal reflections which have been thrown out against him, as if he had made an ungrateful return; and his delicacy in sparing in his book those who we find from his letters to mrs. thrale were just objects of censure, is much to be admired. his candour and amiable disposition is conspicuous from his conduct, when informed by mr. macleod, of rasay, that he had committed a mistake, which gave that gentleman some uneasiness. he wrote him a courteous and kind letter, and inserted in the news-papers an advertisement, correcting the mistake. as to his prejudice against the scotch, which i always ascribed to that nationality which he observed in them, he said to the same gentleman, 'when i find a scotchman, to whom an englishman is as a scotchman, that scotchman shall be as an englishman to me.' his intimacy with many gentlemen of scotland, and his employing so many natives of that country as his amanuenses, prove that his prejudice was not virulent; and i have deposited in the british museum, amongst other pieces of his writing, the following note in answer to one from me, asking if he would meet me at dinner at the mitre, though a friend of mine, a scotchman, was to be there:-- 'mr. johnson does not see why mr. boswell should suppose a scotchman less acceptable than any other man. he will be at the mitre.' my much-valued friend dr. barnard, now bishop of killaloc, having once expressed to him an apprehension, that if he should visit ireland he might treat the people of that country more unfavourably than he had done the scotch, he answered, with strong pointed double-edged wit, 'sir, you have no reason to be afraid of me. the irish are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen. no, sir; the irish are a fair people;--they never speak well of one another.' all the miserable cavillings against his journey, in newspapers, magazines, and other fugitive publications, i can speak from certain knowledge, only furnished him with sport. at last there came out a scurrilous volume, larger than johnson's own, filled with malignant abuse, under a name, real or fictitious, of some low man in an obscure corner of scotland, though supposed to be the work of another scotchman, who has found means to make himself well known both in scotland and england. the effect which it had upon johnson was, to produce this pleasant observation to mr. seward, to whom he lent the book: 'this fellow must be a blockhead. they don't know how to go about their abuse. who will read a five-shilling book against me? no, sir, if they had wit, they should have kept pelting me with pamphlets.' on tuesday, march , i arrived in london; and on repairing to dr. johnson's before dinner, found him in his study, sitting with mr. peter garrick, the elder brother of david, strongly resembling him in countenance and voice, but of more sedate and placid manners. johnson informed me, that 'though mr. beauclerk was in great pain, it was hoped he was not in danger, and that he now wished to consult dr. heberden to try the effect of a new understanding.' both at this interview, and in the evening at mr. thrale's where he and mr. peter garrick and i met again, he was vehement on the subject of the ossian controversy; observing, 'we do not know that there are any ancient erse manuscripts; and we have no other reason to disbelieve that there are men with three heads, but that we do not know that there are any such men.' he also was outrageous upon his supposition that my countrymen 'loved scotland better than truth,' saying, 'all of them,--nay not all,--but droves of them, would come up, and attest any thing for the honour of scotland.' he also persevered in his wild allegation, that he questioned if there was a tree between edinburgh and the english border older than himself. i assured him he was mistaken, and suggested that the proper punishment would be that he should receive a stripe at every tree above a hundred years old, that was found within that space. he laughed, and said, 'i believe i might submit to it for a baubee!' the doubts which, in my correspondence with him, i had ventured to state as to the justice and wisdom of the conduct of great-britain towards the american colonies, while i at the same time requested that he would enable me to inform myself upon that momentous subject, he had altogether disregarded; and had recently published a pamphlet, entitled, taxation no tyranny; an answer to the resolutions and address of the american congress. he had long before indulged most unfavourable sentiments of our fellow-subjects in america. for, as early as , i was told by dr. john campbell, that he had said of them, 'sir, they are a race of convicts, and ought to be thankful for any thing we allow them short of hanging.' of this performance i avoided to talk with him; for i had now formed a clear and settled opinion, that the people of america were well warranted to resist a claim that their fellow-subjects in the mother-country should have the entire command of their fortunes, by taxing them without their own consent; and the extreme violence which it breathed, appeared to me so unsuitable to the mildness of a christian philosopher, and so directly opposite to the principles of peace which he had so beautifully recommended in his pamphlet respecting falkland's islands, that i was sorry to see him appear in so unfavourable a light. on friday, march , i met him at the literary club, where were mr. beauclerk, mr. langton, mr. colman, dr. percy, mr. vesey, sir charles bunbury, dr. george fordyce, mr. steevens, and mr. charles fox. before he came in, we talked of his journey to the western islands, and of his coming away 'willing to believe the second sight,' which seemed to excite some ridicule. i was then so impressed with the truth of many of the stories of it which i had been told, that i avowed my conviction, saying, 'he is only willing to believe: i do believe. the evidence is enough for me, though not for his great mind. what will not fill a quart bottle will fill a pint bottle. i am filled with belief.' 'are you? (said colman,) then cork it up.' i found his journey the common topick of conversation in london at this time, wherever i happened to be. at one of lord mansfield's formal sunday evening conversations, strangely called levees, his lordship addressed me, 'we have all been reading your travels, mr. boswell.' i answered, 'i was but the humble attendant of dr. johnson.' the chief justice replied, with that air and manner which none, who ever saw and heard him, can forget, 'he speaks ill of nobody but ossian.' johnson was in high spirits this evening at the club, and talked with great animation and success. he attacked swift, as he used to do upon all occasions. the tale of a tub is so much superiour to his other writings, that one can hardly believe he was the authour of it: 'there is in it such a vigour of mind, such a swarm of thoughts, so much of nature, and art, and life.' i wondered to hear him say of gulliver's travels, 'when once you have thought of big men and little men, it is very easy to do all the rest.' i endeavoured to make a stand for swift, and tried to rouse those who were much more able to defend him; but in vain. johnson at last, of his own accord, allowed very great merit to the inventory of articles found in the pocket of the man mountain, particularly the description of his watch, which it was conjectured was his god; as he consulted it upon all occasions. he observed, that 'swift put his name to but two things, (after he had a name to put,) the plan for the improvement of the english language, and the last drapier's letter.' from swift, there was an easy transition to mr. thomas sheridan--johnson. 'sheridan is a wonderful admirer of the tragedy of douglas, and presented its authour with a gold medal. some years ago, at a coffee-house in oxford, i called to him, "mr. sheridan, mr. sheridan, how came you to give a gold medal to home, for writing that foolish play?" this you see, was wanton and insolent; but i meant to be wanton and insolent. a medal has no value but as a stamp of merit. and was sheridan to assume to himself the right of giving that stamp? if sheridan was magnificent enough to bestow a gold medal as an honorary reward of dramatick excellence, he should have requested one of the universities to choose the person on whom it should be conferred. sheridan had no right to give a stamp of merit: it was counterfeiting apollo's coin.' on monday, march , i breakfasted with him at mr strahan's. he told us, that he was engaged to go that evening to mrs. abington's benefit. 'she was visiting some ladies whom i was visiting, and begged that i would come to her benefit. i told her i could not hear: but she insisted so much on my coming, that it would have been brutal to have refused her.' this was a speech quite characteristical. he loved to bring forward his having been in the gay circles of life; and he was, perhaps, a little vain of the solicitations of this elegant and fashionable actress. he told us, the play was to be the the hypocrite, altered from cibber's nonjuror, so as to satirize the methodists. 'i do not think (said he,) the character of the hypocrite justly applicable to the methodists, but it was very applicable to the nonjurors.' mr. strahan had taken a poor boy from the country as an apprentice, upon johnson's recommendation. johnson having enquired after him, said, 'mr. strahan, let me have five guineas on account, and i'll give this boy one. nay if a man recommends a boy, and does nothing for him, it is sad work. call him down.' i followed him into the court-yard, behind mr. strahan's house; and there i had a proof of what i had heard him profess, that he talked alike to all. 'some people tell you that they let themselves down to the capacity of their hearers. i never do that. i speak uniformly, in as intelligible a manner as i can.' 'well, my boy, how do you go on?'--'pretty well, sir; but they are afraid i an't strong enough for some parts of the business.' johnson. 'why, i shall be sorry for it; for when you consider with how little mental power and corporeal labour a printer can get a guinea a week, it is a very desirable occupation for you. do you hear,--take all the pains you can; and if this does not do, we must think of some other way of life for you. there's a guinea.' here was one of the many, many instances of his active benevolence. at the same time, the slow and sonorous solemnity with which, while he bent himself down, he addressed a little thick short-legged boy, contrasted with the boy's aukwardness and awe, could not but excite some ludicrous emotions. i met him at drury-lane play-house in the evening. sir joshua reynolds, at mrs. abington's request, had promised to bring a body of wits to her benefit; and having secured forty places in the front boxes, had done me the honour to put me in the group. johnson sat on the seat directly behind me; and as he could neither see nor hear at such a distance from the stage, he was wrapped up in grave abstraction, and seemed quite a cloud, amidst all the sunshine of glitter and gaiety. i wondered at his patience in sitting out a play of five acts, and a farce of two. he said very little; but after the prologue to bon ton had been spoken, which he could hear pretty well from the more slow and distinct utterance, he talked of prologue-writing, and observed, 'dryden has written prologues superiour to any that david garrick has written; but david garrick has written more good prologues than dryden has done. it is wonderful that he has been able to write such variety of them.' at mr. beauclerk's, where i supped, was mr. garrick, whom i made happy with johnson's praise of his prologues; and i suppose, in gratitude to him, he took up one of his favourite topicks, the nationality of the scotch, which he maintained in a pleasant manner, with the aid of a little poetical fiction. 'come, come, don't deny it: they are really national. why, now, the adams are as liberal-minded men as any in the world: but, i don't know how it is, all their workmen are scotch. you are, to be sure, wonderfully free from that nationality: but so it happens, that you employ the only scotch shoe-black in london.' he imitated the manner of his old master with ludicrous exaggeration; repeating, with pauses and half-whistlings interjected, 'os homini sublime dedit,--caelumque tueri jussit,--et erectos ad sidera--tollere vultus'; looking downwards all the time, and, while pronouncing the four last words, absolutely touching the ground with a kind of contorted gesticulation. garrick, however, when he pleased, could imitate johnson very exactly; for that great actor, with his distinguished powers of expression which were so universally admired, possessed also an admirable talent of mimickry. he was always jealous that johnson spoke lightly of him. i recollect his exhibiting him to me one day, as if saying, 'davy has some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile fellow;' which he uttered perfectly with the tone and air of johnson. i cannot too frequently request of my readers, while they peruse my account of johnson's conversation, to endeavour to keep in mind his deliberate and strong utterance. his mode of speaking was indeed very impressive; and i wish it could be preserved as musick is written, according to the very ingenious method of mr. steele, who has shewn how the recitation of mr. garrick, and other eminent speakers, might be transmitted to posterity in score. next day i dined with johnson at mr. thrale's. he attacked gray, calling him 'a dull fellow.' boswell. 'i understand he was reserved, and might appear dull in company; but surely he was not dull in poetry.' johnson. 'sir, he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull every where. he was dull in a new way, and that made many people think him great. he was a mechanical poet.' he then repeated some ludicrous lines, which have escaped my memory, and said, 'is not that great, like his odes?' mrs. thrale maintained that his odes were melodious; upon which he exclaimed, 'weave the warp, and weave the woof;'-- i added, in a solemn tone, 'the winding-sheet of edward's race.' 'there is a good line.' 'ay, (said he,) and the next line is a good one,' (pronouncing it contemptuously;) 'give ample verge and room enough.'-- 'no, sir, there are but two good stanzas in gray's poetry, which are in his elegy in a country church-yard.' he then repeated the stanza, 'for who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,' &c. mistaking one word; for instead of precincts he said confines. he added, 'the other stanza i forget.' a young lady who had married a man much her inferiour in rank being mentioned, a question arose how a woman's relations should behave to her in such a situation; and, while i recapitulate the debate, and recollect what has since happened, i cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy forbids me to express. while i contended that she ought to be treated with an inflexible steadiness of displeasure, mrs. thrale was all for mildness and forgiveness, and, according to the vulgar phrase, 'making the best of a bad bargain.' johnson. madam, we must distinguish. were i a man of rank, i would not let a daughter starve who had made a mean marriage; but having voluntarily degraded herself from the station which she was originally entitled to hold, i would support her only in that which she herself had chosen; and would not put her on a level with my other daughters. you are to consider, madam, that it is our duty to maintain the subordination of civilized society; and when there is a gross and shameful deviation from rank, it should be punished so as to deter others from the same perversion.' on friday, march , i supped with him and some friends at a tavern. one of the company* attempted, with too much forwardness, to rally him on his late appearance at the theatre; but had reason to repent of his temerity. 'why, sir, did you go to mrs. abington's benefit? did you see?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'did you hear?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'why then, sir, did you go?' johnson. 'because, sir, she is a favourite of the publick; and when the publick cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, i will go to your benefit too.' * very likely boswell.--hill. next morning i won a small bet from lady diana beauclerk, by asking him as to one of his particularities, which her ladyship laid i durst not do. it seems he had been frequently observed at the club to put into his pocket the seville oranges, after he had squeezed the juice of them into the drink which he made for himself. beauclerk and garrick talked of it to me, and seemed to think that he had a strange unwillingness to be discovered. we could not divine what he did with them; and this was the bold question to be put. i saw on his table the spoils of the preceding night, some fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into pieces. 'o, sir, (said i,) i now partly see what you do with the squeezed oranges which you put into your pocket at the club.' johnson. 'i have a great love for them.' boswell. 'and pray, sir, what do you do with them? you scrape them, it seems, very neatly, and what next?' johnson. 'let them dry, sir.' boswell. 'and what next?' johnson. 'nay, sir, you shall know their fate no further.' boswell. 'then the world must be left in the dark. it must be said (assuming a mock solemnity,) he scraped them, and let them dry, but what he did with them next, he never could be prevailed upon to tell.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you should say it more emphatically:--he could not be prevailed upon, even by his dearest friends, to tell.' he had this morning received his diploma as doctor of laws from the university of oxford. he did not vaunt of his new dignity, but i understood he was highly pleased with it. i observed to him that there were very few of his friends so accurate as that i could venture to put down in writing what they told me as his sayings. johnson. 'why should you write down my sayings?' boswell. 'i write them when they are good.' johnson. 'nay, you may as well write down the sayings of any one else that are good.' but where, i might with great propriety have added, can i find such? next day, sunday, april , i dined with him at mr. hoole's. we talked of pope. johnson. 'he wrote, his dunciad for fame. that was his primary motive. had it not been for that, the dunces might have railed against him till they were weary, without his troubling himself about them. he delighted to vex them, no doubt; but he had more delight in seeing how well he could vex them.' his taxation no tyranny being mentioned, he said, 'i think i have not been attacked enough for it. attack is the re-action; i never think i have hit hard, unless it rebounds.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir, what you would be at. five or six shots of small arms in every newspaper, and repeated cannonading in pamphlets, might, i think, satisfy you. but, sir, you'll never make out this match, of which we have talked, with a certain political lady,* since you are so severe against her principles.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i have the better chance for that. she is like the amazons of old; she must be courted by the sword. but i have not been severe upon her.' boswell. 'yes, sir, you have made her ridiculous.' johnson. 'that was already done, sir. to endeavour to make her ridiculous, is like blacking the chimney.' * croker identifies her as mrs. macaulay. see p. .--ed. i talked of the cheerfulness of fleet-street, owing to the constant quick succession of people which we perceive passing through it. johnson. 'why, sir, fleet-street has a very animated appearance; but i think the full tide of human existence is at charing-cross.' he made the common remark on the unhappiness which men who have led a busy life experience, when they retire in expectation of enjoying themselves at ease, and that they generally languish for want of their habitual occupation, and wish to return to it. he mentioned as strong an instance of this as can well be imagined. 'an eminent tallow-chandler in london, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave up the trade in favour of his foreman, and went to live at a country-house near town. he soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his old shop, where he desired they might let him know their melting-days, and he would come and assist them; which he accordingly did. here, sir, was a man, to whom the most disgusting circumstance in the business to which he had been used was a relief from idleness.' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at messieurs dilly's, with mr. john scott of amwell, the quaker, mr. langton, mr. miller, (now sir john,) and dr. thomas campbell, an irish clergyman, whom i took the liberty of inviting to mr. dilly's table, having seen him at mr. thrale's, and been told that he had come to england chiefly with a view to see dr. johnson, for whom he entertained the highest veneration. he has since published a philosophical survey of the south of ireland, a very entertaining book, which has, however, one fault;--that it assumes the fictitious character of an englishman. we talked of publick speaking--johnson. 'we must not estimate a man's powers by his being able, or not able to deliver his sentiments in publick. isaac hawkins browne, one of the first wits of this country, got into parliament, and never opened his mouth. for my own part, i think it is more disgraceful never to try to speak, than to try it and fail; as it is more disgraceful not to fight, than to fight and be beaten.' this argument appeared to me fallacious; for if a man has not spoken, it may be said that he would have done very well it he had tried; whereas, if he has tried and failed, there is nothing to be said for him. 'why then, (i asked,) is it thought disgraceful for a man not to fight, and not disgraceful not to speak in publick?' johnson. 'because there may be other reasons for a man's not speaking in publick than want of resolution: he may have nothing to say, (laughing.) whereas, sir, you know courage is reckoned the greatest of all virtues; because, unless a man has that virtue, he has no security for preserving any other.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at mr. thomas davies's, with mr. hicky, the painter, and my old acquaintance mr. moody, the player. dr. johnson, as usual, spoke contemptuously of colley cibber. 'it is wonderful that a man, who for forty years had lived with the great and the witty, should have acquired so ill the talents of conversation: and he had but half to furnish; for one half of what he said was oaths.' he, however, allowed considerable merit to some of his comedies, and said there was no reason to believe that the careless husband was not written by himself. davies said, he was the first dramatick writer who introduced genteel ladies upon the stage. johnson refuted this observation by instancing several such characters in comedies before his time. davies. (trying to defend himself from a charge of ignorance,) 'i mean genteel moral characters.' 'i think (said hicky,) gentility and morality are inseparable.' boswell. 'by no means, sir. the genteelest characters are often the most immoral. does not lord chesterfield give precepts for uniting wickedness and the graces? a man, indeed, is not genteel when he gets drunk; but most vices may be committed very genteelly: a man may debauch his friend's wife genteelly: he may cheat at cards genteelly.' hicky. 'i do not think that is genteel.' boswell. 'sir, it may not be like a gentleman, but it may be genteel.' johnson. 'you are meaning two different things. one means exteriour grace; the other honour. it is certain that a man may be very immoral with exteriour grace. lovelace, in clarissa, is a very genteel and a very wicked character. tom hervey, who died t'other day, though a vicious man, was one of the genteelest men that ever lived.' tom davies instanced charles the second. johnson. (taking fire at any attack upon that prince, for whom he had an extraordinary partiality,) 'charles the second was licentious in his practice; but he always had a reverence for what was good. charles the second knew his people, and rewarded merit. the church was at no time better filled than in his reign. he was the best king we have had from his time till the reign of his present majesty, except james the second, who was a very good king, but unhappily believed that it was necessary for the salvation of his subjects that they should be roman catholicks. he had the merit of endeavouring to do what he thought was for the salvation of the souls of his subjects, till he lost a great empire. we, who thought that we should not be saved if we were roman catholicks, had the merit of maintaining our religion, at the expence of submitting ourselves to the government of king william, (for it could not be done otherwise,)--to the government of one of the most worthless scoundrels that ever existed. no; charles the second was not such a man as -----, (naming another king). he did not destroy his father's will. he took money, indeed, from france: but he did not betray those over whom he ruled: he did not let the french fleet pass ours. george the first knew nothing, and desired to know nothing; did nothing, and desired to do nothing: and the only good thing that is told of him is, that he wished to restore the crown to its hereditary successor.' he roared with prodigious violence against george the second. when he ceased, moody interjected, in an irish tone, and with a comick look, 'ah! poor george the second.' i mentioned that dr. thomas campbell had come from ireland to london, principally to see dr. johnson. he seemed angry at this observation. davies. 'why, you know, sir, there came a man from spain to see livy; and corelli came to england to see purcell, and when he heard he was dead, went directly back again to italy.' johnson. 'i should not have wished to be dead to disappoint campbell, had he been so foolish as you represent him; but i should have wished to have been a hundred miles off.' this was apparently perverse; and i do believe it was not his real way of thinking: he could not but like a man who came so far to see him. he laughed with some complacency, when i told him campbell's odd expression to me concerning him: 'that having seen such a man, was a thing to talk of a century hence,'--as if he could live so long. we got into an argument whether the judges who went to india might with propriety engage in trade. johnson warmly maintained that they might. 'for why (he urged,) should not judges get riches, as well as those who deserve them less?' i said, they should have sufficient salaries, and have nothing to take off their attention from the affairs of the publick. johnson. 'no judge, sir, can give his whole attention to his office; and it is very proper that he should employ what time he has to himself, to his own advantage, in the most profitable manner.' 'then, sir, (said davies, who enlivened the dispute by making it somewhat dramatick,) he may become an insurer; and when he is going to the bench, he may be stopped,--"your lordship cannot go yet: here is a bunch of invoices: several ships are about to sail."' johnson. sir, you may as well say a judge should not have a house; for they may come and tell him, "your lordship's house is on fire;" and so, instead of minding the business of his court, he is to be occupied in getting the engine with the greatest speed. there is no end of this. every judge who has land, trades to a certain extent in corn or in cattle; and in the land itself, undoubtedly. his steward acts for him, and so do clerks for a great merchant. a judge may be a farmer; but he is not to geld his own pigs. a judge may play a little at cards for his amusement; but he is not to play at marbles, or at chuck-farthing in the piazza. no, sir; there is no profession to which a man gives a very great proportion of his time. it is wonderful, when a calculation is made, how little the mind is actually employed in the discharge of any profession. no man would be a judge, upon the condition of being totally a judge. the best employed lawyer has his mind at work but for a small proportion of his time; a great deal of his occupation is merely mechanical. i once wrote for a magazine: i made a calculation, that if i should write but a page a day, at the same rate, i should, in ten years, write nine volumes in folio, of an ordinary size and print.' boswell. 'such as carte's history?' johnson. 'yes, sir. when a man writes from his own mind, he writes very rapidly. the greatest part of a writer's time is spent in reading, in order to write: a man will turn over half a library to make one book.' we spoke of rolt, to whose dictionary of commerce dr. johnson wrote the preface. johnson. 'old gardner the bookseller employed rolt and smart to write a monthly miscellany, called the universal visitor. there was a formal written contract, which allen the printer saw. gardner thought as you do of the judge. they were bound to write nothing else; they were to have, i think, a third of the profits of this sixpenny pamphlet; and the contract was for ninety-nine years. i wish i had thought of giving this to thurlow, in the cause about literary property. what an excellent instance would it have been of the oppression of booksellers towards poor authours!' (smiling.) davies, zealous for the honour of the trade, said, gardner was not properly a bookseller. johnson. 'nay, sir; he certainly was a bookseller. he had served his time regularly, was a member of the stationers' company, kept a shop in the face of mankind, purchased copyright, and was a bibliopole, sir, in every sense. i wrote for some months in the universal visitor, for poor smart, while he was mad, not then knowing the terms on which he was engaged to write, and thinking i was doing him good. i hoped his wits would soon return to him. mine returned to me, and i wrote in the universal visitor no longer. friday, april , i dined with him at a tavern, with a numerous company. one of the company suggested an internal objection to the antiquity of the poetry said to be ossian's, that we do not find the wolf in it, which must have been the case had it been of that age. the mention of the wolf had led johnson to think of other wild beasts; and while sir joshua reynolds and mr. langton were carrying on a dialogue about something which engaged them earnestly, he, in the midst of it, broke out, 'pennant tells of bears--' [what he added, i have forgotten.] they went on, which he being dull of hearing, did not perceive, or, if he did, was not willing to break off his talk; so he continued to vociferate his remarks, and bear ('like a word in a catch' as beauclerk said,) was repeatedly heard at intervals, which coming from him who, by those who did not know him, had been so often assimilated to that ferocious animal, while we who were sitting around could hardly stifle laughter, produced a very ludicrous effect. silence having ensued, he proceeded: 'we are told, that the black bear is innocent; but i should not like to trust myself with him.' mr. gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice, 'i should not like to trust myself with you.' this piece of sarcastick pleasantry was a prudent resolution, if applied to a competition of abilities. patriotism having become one of our topicks, johnson suddenly uttered, in a strong determined tone, an apophthegm, at which many will start: 'patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel.' but let it be considered, that he did not mean a real and generous love of our country, but that pretended patriotism which so many, in all ages and countries, have made a cloak for self-interest. mrs. prichard being mentioned, he said, 'her playing was quite mechanical. it is wonderful how little mind she had. sir, she had never read the tragedy of macbeth all through. she no more thought of the play out of which her part was taken, than a shoemaker thinks of the skin, out of which the piece of leather, of which he is making a pair of shoes, is cut.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, where we met the irish dr. campbell. johnson had supped the night before at mrs. abington's, with some fashionable people whom he named; and he seemed much pleased with having made one in so elegant a circle. nor did he omit to pique his mistress a little with jealousy of her housewifery; for he said, (with a smile,) 'mrs. abington's jelly, my dear lady, was better than yours.' mrs. thrale, who frequently practised a coarse mode of flattery, by repeating his bon-mots in his hearing, told us that he had said, a certain celebrated actor was just fit to stand at the door of an auction-room with a long pole, and cry 'pray gentlemen, walk in;' and that a certain authour, upon hearing this, had said, that another still more celebrated actor was fit for nothing better than that, and would pick your pocket after you came out. johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, there is no wit in what our friend added; there is only abuse. you may as well say of any man that he will pick a pocket. besides, the man who is stationed at the door does not pick people's pockets; that is done within, by the auctioneer.' on monday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, with mr. langton and the irish dr. campbell, whom the general had obligingly given me leave to bring with me. this learned gentleman was thus gratified with a very high intellectual feast, by not only being in company with dr. johnson, but with general oglethorpe, who had been so long a celebrated name both at home and abroad. i must, again and again, intreat of my readers not to suppose that my imperfect record of conversation contains the whole of what was said by johnson, or other eminent persons who lived with him. what i have preserved, however, has the value of the most perfect authenticity. he urged general oglethorpe to give the world his life. he said, 'i know no man whose life would be more interesting. if i were furnished with materials, i should be very glad to write it.' mr. scott of amwell's elegies were lying in the room. dr. johnson observed, 'they are very well; but such as twenty people might write.' upon this i took occasion to controvert horace's maxim, '------- mediocribus esse poetis non di, non homines, non concessere columnae.' for here, (i observed,) was a very middle-rate poet, who pleased many readers, and therefore poetry of a middle sort was entitled to some esteem; nor could i see why poetry should not, like every thing else, have different gradations of excellence, and consequently of value. johnson repeated the common remark, that, 'as there is no necessity for our having poetry at all, it being merely a luxury, an instrument of pleasure, it can have no value, unless when exquisite in its kind.' i declared myself not satisfied. 'why then, sir, (said he,) horace and you must settle it.' he was not much in the humour of talking. no more of his conversation for some days appears in my journal, except that when a gentleman told him he had bought a suit of lace for his lady, he said, 'well, sir, you have done a good thing and a wise thing.' 'i have done a good thing, (said the gentleman,) but i do not know that i have done a wise thing.' johnson. 'yes, sir; no money is better spent than what is laid out for domestick satisfaction. a man is pleased that his wife is drest as well as other people; and a wife is pleased that she is drest.' on friday, april , being good-friday, i repaired to him in the morning, according to my usual custom on that day, and breakfasted with him. i observed that he fasted so very strictly, that he did not even taste bread, and took no milk with his tea; i suppose because it is a kind of animal food. i told him that i had been informed by mr. orme, that many parts of the east-indies were better mapped than the highlands of scotland. johnson. 'that a country may be mapped, it must be travelled over.' 'nay, (said i, meaning to laugh with him at one of his prejudices,) can't you say, it is not worth mapping?' as we walked to st. clement's church, and saw several shops open upon this most solemn fast-day of the christian world, i remarked, that one disadvantage arising from the immensity of london, was, that nobody was heeded by his neighbour; there was no fear of censure for not observing good-friday, as it ought to be kept, and as it is kept in country-towns. he said, it was, upon the whole, very well observed even in london. he, however, owned, that london was too large; but added, 'it is nonsense to say the head is too big for the body. it would be as much too big, though the body were ever so large; that is to say, though the country were ever so extensive. it has no similarity to a head connected with a body.' dr. wetherell, master of university college, oxford, accompanied us home from church; and after he was gone, there came two other gentlemen, one of whom uttered the commonplace complaints, that by the increase of taxes, labour would be dear, other nations would undersell us, and our commerce would be ruined. johnson. (smiling,) 'never fear, sir. our commerce is in a very good state; and suppose we had no commerce at all, we could live very well on the produce of our own country.' i cannot omit to mention, that i never knew any man who was less disposed to be querulous than johnson. whether the subject was his own situation, or the state of the publick, or the state of human nature in general, though he saw the evils, his mind was turned to resolution, and never to whining or complaint. we went again to st. clement's in the afternoon. he had found fault with the preacher in the morning for not choosing a text adapted to the day. the preacher in the afternoon had chosen one extremely proper: 'it is finished.' after the evening service, he said, 'come, you shall go home with me, and sit just an hour.' but he was better than his word; for after we had drunk tea with mrs. williams, he asked me to go up to his study with him, where we sat a long while together in a serene undisturbed frame of mind, sometimes in silence, and sometimes conversing, as we felt ourselves inclined, or more properly speaking, as he was inclined; for during all the course of my long intimacy with him, my respectful attention never abated, and my wish to hear him was such, that i constantly watched every dawning of communication from that great and illuminated mind. he again advised me to keep a journal fully and minutely, but not to mention such trifles as, that meat was too much or too little done, or that the weather was fair or rainy. he had, till very near his death, a contempt for the notion that the weather affects the human frame. i told him that our friend goldsmith had said to me, that he had come too late into the world, for that pope and other poets had taken up the places in the temple of fame; so that, as but a few at any period can possess poetical reputation, a man of genius can now hardly acquire it. johnson. 'that is one of the most sensible things i have ever heard of goldsmith. it is difficult to get literary fame, and it is every day growing more difficult. ah, sir, that should make a man think of securing happiness in another world, which all who try sincerely for it may attain. in comparison of that, how little are all other things! the belief of immortality is impressed upon all men, and all men act under an impression of it, however they may talk, and though, perhaps, they may be scarcely sensible of it.' i said, it appeared to me that some people had not the least notion of immortality; and i mentioned a distinguished gentleman of our acquaintance. johnson. 'sir, if it were not for the notion of immortality, he would cut a throat to fill his pockets.' when i quoted this to beauclerk, who knew much more of the gentleman than we did, he said, in his acid manner, 'he would cut a throat to fill his pockets, if it were not for fear of being hanged.' he was pleased to say, 'if you come to settle here, we will have one day in the week on which we will meet by ourselves. that is the happiest conversation where there is no competition, no vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of sentiments.' in his private register this evening is thus marked, 'boswell sat with me till night; we had some serious talk.' it also appears from the same record, that after i left him he was occupied in religious duties, in 'giving francis, his servant, some directions for preparation to communicate; in reviewing his life, and resolving on better conduct.' the humility and piety which he discovers on such occasions, is truely edifying. no saint, however, in the course of his religious warfare, was more sensible of the unhappy failure of pious resolves, than johnson. he said one day, talking to an acquaintance on this subject, 'sir hell is paved with good intentions.' on sunday, april , being easter day, after having attended the solemn service at st. paul's, i dined with dr. johnson and mrs. williams. i maintained that horace was wrong in placing happiness in nil admirari, for that i thought admiration one of the most agreeable of all our feelings; and i regretted that i had lost much of my disposition to admire, which people generally do as they advance in life. johnson. 'sir, as a man advances in life, he gets what is better than admiration--judgement, to estimate things at their true value.' i still insisted that admiration was more pleasing than judgement, as love is more pleasing than friendship. the feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love, like being enlivened with champagne. johnson. 'no, sir; admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgement and friendship like being enlivened. waller has hit upon the same thought with you: but i don't believe you have borrowed from waller. i wish you would enable yourself to borrow more.' he then took occasion to enlarge on the advantages of reading, and combated the idle superficial notion, that knowledge enough may be acquired in conversation. 'the foundation (said he,) must be laid by reading. general principles must be had from books, which, however, must be brought to the test of real life. in conversation you never get a system. what is said upon a subject is to be gathered from a hundred people. the parts of a truth, which a man gets thus, are at such a distance from each other that he never attains to a full view.' on tuesday, april , he and i were engaged to go with sir joshua reynolds to dine with mr. cambridge, at his beautiful villa on the banks of the thames, near twickenham. dr. johnson's tardiness was such, that sir joshua, who had an appointment at richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to johnson and me. johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along. our conversation turned on a variety of subjects. he thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a woman. 'publick practice of any art, (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female.' i happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation. johnson. 'no, sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. they may be invited on purpose to abuse him' (smiling). as a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes to know, his own character in the world, or, rather, as a convincing proof that johnson's roughness was only external, and did not proceed from his heart, i insert the following dialogue. johnson. 'it is wonderful, sir, how rare a quality good humour is in life. we meet with very few good humoured men.' i mentioned four of our friends, none of whom he would allow to be good humoured. one was acid, another was muddy, and to the others he had objections which have escaped me. then, shaking his head and stretching himself at ease in the coach, and smiling with much complacency, he turned to me and said, 'i look upon myself as a good humoured fellow.' the epithet fellow, applied to the great lexicographer, the stately moralist, the masterly critick, as if he had been sam johnson, a mere pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light notion of himself struck me with wonder. i answered, also smiling, 'no, no, sir; that will not do. you are good natured, but not good humoured: you are irascible. you have not patience with folly and absurdity. i believe you would pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance; but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they cannot escape. i had brought with me a great bundle of scotch magazines and news-papers, in which his journey to the western islands was attacked in every mode; and i read a great part of them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment. i wish the writers of them had been present: they would have been sufficiently vexed. one ludicrous imitation of his style, by mr. maclaurin, now one of the scotch judges, with the title of lord dreghorn, was distinguished by him from the rude mass. 'this (said he,) is the best. but i could caricature my own style much better myself.' he defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of education in scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of his witty saying on the learning of the scotch;--'their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal.' 'there is (said he,) in scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread. a merchant there has as much learning as one of their clergy. no sooner had we made our bow to mr. cambridge, in his library, than johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books. sir joshua observed, (aside,) 'he runs to the books, as i do to the pictures: but i have the advantage. i can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books.' mr. cambridge, upon this, politely said, 'dr. johnson, i am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for i have the same custom which i perceive you have. but it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books.' johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his reverie, wheeled about, and answered, 'sir, the reason is very plain. knowledge is of two kinds. we know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. when we enquire into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. this leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries.' sir joshua observed to me the extraordinary promptitude with which johnson flew upon an argument. 'yes, (said i,) he has no formal preparation, no flourishing with his sword; he is through your body in an instant.' johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, a very accomplished family, and much good company; among whom was mr. harris of salisbury, who paid him many compliments on his journey to the western islands. the common remark as to the utility of reading history being made;--johnson. 'we must consider how very little history there is; i mean real authentick history. that certain kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture.' boswell. 'then, sir, you would reduce all history to no better than an almanack, a mere chronological series of remarkable events.' mr. gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon his history, of which he published the first volume in the following year, was present; but did not step forth in defence of that species of writing. he probably did not like to trust himself with johnson! the beggar's opera, and the common question, whether it was pernicious in its effects, having been introduced;--johnson. 'as to this matter, which has been very much contested, i myself am of opinion, that more influence has been ascribed to the beggar's opera, than it in reality ever had; for i do not believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at its representation. at the same time i do not deny that it may have some influence, by making the character of a rogue familiar, and in some degree pleasing.' then collecting himself as it were, to give a heavy stroke: 'there is in it such a labefactation of all principles, as may be injurious to morality.' while he pronounced this response, we sat in a comical sort of restraint, smothering a laugh, which we were afraid might burst out. we talked of a young gentleman's* marriage with an eminent singer, and his determination that she should no longer sing in publick, though his father was very earnest she should, because her talents would be liberally rewarded, so as to make her a good fortune. it was questioned whether the young gentleman, who had not a shilling in the world, but was blest with very uncommon talents, was not foolishly delicate, or foolishly proud, and his father truely rational without being mean. johnson, with all the high spirit of a roman senator, exclaimed, 'he resolved wisely and nobly to be sure. he is a brave man. would not a gentleman be disgraced by having his wife singing publickly for hire? no, sir, there can be no doubt here. i know not if i should not prepare myself for a publick singer, as readily as let my wife be one.' * probably richard brinsley sheridan, whose romantic marriage with the beautiful elizabeth linley took place in . he became a member of the club on johnson's proposal. see below, p. .--ed. johnson arraigned the modern politicks of this country, as entirely devoid of all principle of whatever kind. 'politicks (said he,) are now nothing more than means of rising in the world. with this sole view do men engage in politicks, and their whole conduct proceeds upon it.' somebody found fault with writing verses in a dead language, maintaining that they were merely arrangements of so many words, and laughed at the universities of oxford and cambridge, for sending forth collections of them not only in greek and latin, but even in syriac, arabick, and other more unknown tongues. johnson. 'i would have as many of these as possible; i would have verses in every language that there are the means of acquiring. nobody imagines that an university is to have at once two hundred poets; but it should be able to show two hundred scholars. pieresc's death was lamented, i think, in forty languages. and i would have had at every coronation, and every death of a king, every gaudium, and every luctus, university verses, in as many languages as can be acquired. i would have the world to be thus told, "here is a school where every thing may be learnt."' having set out next day on a visit to the earl of pembroke, at wilton, and to my friend, mr. temple, at mamhead, in devonshire, and not having returned to town till the second of may, i did not see dr. johnson for a considerable time, and during the remaining part of my stay in london, kept very imperfect notes of his conversation, which had i according to my usual custom written out at large soon after the time, much might have been preserved, which is now irretrievably lost. on monday, may , we went together and visited the mansions of bedlam. i had been informed that he had once been there before with mr. wedderburne, (now lord loughborough,) mr. murphy, and mr. foote; and i had heard foote give a very entertaining account of johnson's happening to have his attention arrested by a man who was very furious, and who, while beating his straw, supposed it was william duke of cumberland, whom he was punishing for his cruelties in scotland, in . there was nothing peculiarly remarkable this day; but the general contemplation of insanity was very affecting. i accompanied him home, and dined and drank tea with him. on friday, may , as he had been so good as to assign me a room in his house, where i might sleep occasionally, when i happened to sit with him to a late hour, i took possession of it this night, found every thing in excellent order, and was attended by honest francis with a most civil assiduity. i asked johnson whether i might go to a consultation with another lawyer upon sunday, as that appeared to me to be doing work as much in my way, as if an artisan should work on the day appropriated for religious rest. johnson. 'why, sir, when you are of consequence enough to oppose the practice of consulting upon sunday, you should do it: but you may go now. it is not criminal, though it is not what one should do, who is anxious for the preservation and increase of piety, to which a peculiar observance of sunday is a great help. the distinction is clear between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.' on saturday, may , i breakfasted with him by invitation, accompanied by mr. andrew crosbie, a scotch advocate, whom he had seen at edinburgh, and the hon. colonel (now general) edward stopford, brother to lord courtown, who was desirous of being introduced to him. his tea and rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous, that colonel stopford was quite surprized, and wondered at his having heard so much said of johnson's slovenliness and roughness. i passed many hours with him on the th, of which i find all my memorial is, 'much laughing.' it should seem he had that day been in a humour for jocularity and merriment, and upon such occasions i never knew a man laugh more heartily. we may suppose, that the high relish of a state so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than ordinary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which has puzzled philosophers so much to explain. johnson's laugh was as remarkable as any circumstance in his manner. it was a kind of good humoured growl. tom davies described it drolly enough: 'he laughs like a rhinoceros.' 'to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir,--i have an old amanuensis in great distress. i have given what i think i can give, and begged till i cannot tell where to beg again. i put into his hands this morning four guineas. if you could collect three guineas more, it would clear him from his present difficulty. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' after my return to scotland, i wrote three letters to him. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--i am returned from the annual ramble into the middle counties. having seen nothing i had not seen before, i have nothing to relate. time has left that part of the island few antiquities; and commerce has left the people no singularities. i was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, glad to come home; which is, in other words, i was, i am afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad. is not this the state of life? but, if we confess this weariness, let us not lament it, for all the wise and all the good say, that we may cure it. . . . 'mrs. thrale was so entertained with your journal,* that she almost read herself blind. she has a great regard for you. 'of mrs. boswell, though she knows in her heart that she does not love me, i am always glad to hear any good, and hope that she and the little dear ladies will have neither sickness nor any other affliction. but she knows that she does not care what becomes of me, and for that she may be sure that i think her very much to blame. 'never, my dear sir, do you take it into your head to think that i do not love you; you may settle yourself in full confidence both of my love and my esteem; i love you as a kind man, i value you as a worthy man, and hope in time to reverence you as a man of exemplary piety. i hold you, as hamlet has it, "in my heart of hearts," and therefore, it is little to say, that i am, sir, your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, aug. , .' * my journal of a tour to the hebrides, which that lady read in the original manuscript.--boswell. 'to mr. robert levet. 'paris,* oct. , . 'dear sir,--we are still here, commonly very busy in looking about us. we have been to-day at versailles. you have seen it, and i shall not describe it. we came yesterday from fontainbleau, where the court is now. we went to see the king and queen at dinner, and the queen was so impressed by miss,** that she sent one of the gentlemen to enquire who she was. i find all true that you have ever told me of paris. mr. thrale is very liberal, and keeps us two coaches, and a very fine table; but i think our cookery very bad. mrs. thrale got into a convent of english nuns; and i talked with her through the grate, and i am very kindly used by the english benedictine friars. but upon the whole i cannot make much acquaintance here; and though the churches, palaces, and some private houses are very magnificent, there is no very great pleasure after having seen many, in seeing more; at least the pleasure, whatever it be, must some time have an end, and we are beginning to think when we shall come home. mr. thrale calculates that, as we left streatham on the fifteenth of september, we shall see it again about the fifteenth of november. * written from a tour in france with the thrales, johnson's only visit to the continent.--ed. ** miss thrale. 'i think i had not been on this side of the sea five days before i found a sensible improvement in my health. i ran a race in the rain this day, and beat baretti. baretti is a fine fellow, and speaks french, i think, quite as well as english. 'make my compliments to mrs. williams; and give my love to francis; and tell my friends that i am not lost. i am, dear sir, your affectionate humble, &c. 'sam. johnson.' it is to be regretted that he did not write an account of his travels in france; for as he is reported to have once said, that 'he could write the life of a broomstick,' so, notwithstanding so many former travellers have exhausted almost every subject for remark in that great kingdom, his very accurate observation, and peculiar vigour of thought and illustration, would have produced a valuable work. when i met him in london the following year, the account which he gave me of his french tour, was, 'sir, i have seen all the visibilities of paris, and around it; but to have formed an acquaintance with the people there, would have required more time than i could stay. i was just beginning to creep into acquaintance by means of colonel drumgold, a very high man, sir, head of l'ecole militaire, a most complete character, for he had first been a professor of rhetorick, and then became a soldier. and, sir, i was very kindly treated by the english benedictines, and have a cell appropriated to me in their convent.' he observed, 'the great in france live very magnificently, but the rest very miserably. there is no happy middle state as in england. the shops of paris are mean; the meat in the markets is such as would be sent to a gaol in england: and mr. thrale justly observed, that the cookery of the french was forced upon them by necessity; for they could not eat their meat, unless they added some taste to it. the french are an indelicate people; they will spit upon any place. at madame ------'s, a literary lady of rank, the footman took the sugar in his fingers, and threw it into my coffee. i was going to put it aside; but hearing it was made on purpose for me, i e'en tasted tom's fingers. the same lady would needs make tea a l'angloise. the spout of the tea-pot did not pour freely; she had the footman blow into it. france is worse than scotland in every thing but climate. nature has done more for the french; but they have done less for themselves than the scotch have done.' it happened that foote was at paris at the same time with dr. johnson, and his description of my friend while there, was abundantly ludicrous. he told me, that the french were quite astonished at his figure and manner, and at his dress, which he obstinately continued exactly as in london;--his brown clothes, black stockings, and plain shirt. he mentioned, that an irish gentleman said to johnson, 'sir, you have not seen the best french players.' johnson. 'players, sir! i look on them as no better than creatures set upon tables and joint-stools to make faces and produce laughter, like dancing dogs.'--'but, sir, you will allow that some players are better than others?' johnson. 'yes, sir, as some dogs dance better than others.' while johnson was in france, he was generally very resolute in speaking latin. it was a maxim with him that a man should not let himself down, by speaking a language which he speaks imperfectly. indeed, we must have often observed how inferiour, how much like a child a man appears, who speaks a broken tongue. when sir joshua reynolds, at one of the dinners of the royal academy, presented him to a frenchman of great distinction, he would not deign to speak french, but talked latin, though his excellency did not understand it, owing, perhaps, to johnson's english pronunciation: yet upon another occasion he was observed to speak french to a frenchman of high rank, who spoke english; and being asked the reason, with some expression of surprise,--he answered, 'because i think my french is as good as his english.' though johnson understood french perfectly, he could not speak it readily, as i have observed at his first interview with general pauli, in ; yet he wrote it, i imagine, pretty well. here let me not forget a curious anecdote, as related to me by mr. beauclerk, which i shall endeavour to exhibit as well as i can in that gentleman's lively manner; and in justice to him it is proper to add, that dr. johnson told me i might rely both on the correctness of his memory, and the fidelity of his narrative. 'when madame de boufflers was first in england, (said beauclerk,) she was desirous to see johnson. i accordingly went with her to his chambers in the temple, where she was entertained with his conversation for some time. when our visit was over, she and i left him, and were got into inner temple-lane, when all at once i heard a noise like thunder. this was occasioned by johnson, who it seems, upon a little recollection, had taken it into his head that he ought to have done the honours of his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality, and eager to shew himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the stair-case in violent agitation. he overtook us before we reached the temple-gate, and brushing in between me and madame de boufflers, seized her hand, and conducted her to her coach. his dress was a rusty brown morning suit, a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. a considerable crowd of people gathered round, and were not a little struck by this singular appearance.' he spoke latin with wonderful fluency and elegance. when pere boscovich was in england, johnson dined in company with him at sir joshua reynolds's, and at dr. douglas's, now bishop of salisbury. upon both occasions that celebrated foreigner expressed his astonishment at johnson's latin conversation. when at paris, johnson thus characterised voltaire to freron the journalist: 'vir est acerrimi ingenii et paucarum literarum.' in the course of this year dr. burney informs me that 'he very frequently met dr. johnson at mr. thrale's, at streatham, where they had many long conversations, often sitting up as long as the fire and candles lasted, and much longer than the patience of the servants subsisted.' a few of johnson's sayings, which that gentleman recollects, shall here be inserted. 'i never take a nap after dinner but when i have had a bad night, and then the nap takes me.' 'the writer of an epitaph should not be considered as saying nothing but what is strictly true. allowance must be made for some degree of exaggerated praise. in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath.' 'there is now less flogging in our great schools than formerly, but then less is learned there; so that what the boys get at one end they lose at the other.' 'more is learned in publick than in private schools, from emulation; there is the collision of mind with mind, or the radiation of many minds pointing to one centre. though few boys make their own exercises, yet if a good exercise is given up, out of a great number of boys, it is made by somebody.' 'i hate by-roads in education. education is as well known, and has long been as well known, as ever it can be. endeavouring to make children prematurely wise is useless labour. suppose they have more knowledge at five or six years old than other children, what use can be made of it? it will be lost before it is wanted, and the waste of so much time and labour of the teacher can never be repaid. too much is expected from precocity, and too little performed. miss ---- was an instance of early cultivation, but in what did it terminate? in marrying a little presbyterian parson, who keeps an infant boarding-school, so that all her employment now is, "to suckle fools, and chronicle small-beer." she tells the children, "this is a cat, and that is a dog, with four legs and a tail; see there! you are much better than a cat or a dog, for you can speak." if i had bestowed such an education on a daughter, and had discovered that she thought of marrying such a fellow, i would have sent her to the congress.' 'after having talked slightingly of musick, he was observed to listen very attentively while miss thrale played on the harpsichord, and with eagerness he called to her, "why don't you dash away like burney?" dr. burney upon this said to him, "i believe, sir, we shall make a musician of you at last." johnson with candid complacency replied, "sir, i shall be glad to have a new sense given to me."' 'he had come down one morning to the breakfast-room, and been a considerable time by himself before any body appeared. when, on a subsequent day, he was twitted by mrs. thrale for being very late, which he generally was, he defended himself by alluding to the extraordinary morning, when he had been too early. "madame, i do not like to come down to vacuity."' 'dr. burney having remarked that mr. garrick was beginning to look old, he said, "why, sir, you are not to wonder at that; no man's face has had more wear and tear."' : aetat. .]--having arrived in london late on friday, the th of march, i hastened next morning to wait on dr. johnson, at his house; but found he was removed from johnson's-court, no. , to bolt-court, no. , still keeping to his favourite fleet-street. my reflection at the time upon this change as marked in my journal, is as follows: 'i felt a foolish regret that he had left a court which bore his name;* but it was not foolish to be affected with some tenderness of regard for a place in which i had seen him a great deal, from whence i had often issued a better and a happier man than when i went in, and which had often appeared to my imagination while i trod its pavements, in the solemn darkness of the night, to be sacred to wisdom and piety.' being informed that he was at mr. thrale's, in the borough, i hastened thither, and found mrs. thrale and him at breakfast. i was kindly welcomed. in a moment he was in a full glow of conversation, and i felt myself elevated as if brought into another state of being. mrs. thrale and i looked to each other while he talked, and our looks expressed our congenial admiration and affection for him. i shall ever recollect this scene with great pleasure, i exclaimed to her, 'i am now, intellectually, hermippus redivivus, i am quite restored by him, by transfusion of mind.' 'there are many (she replied) who admire and respect mr. johnson; but you and i love him.' * he said, when in scotland, that he was johnson of that ilk.--boswell. he seemed very happy in the near prospect of going to italy with mr. and mrs. thrale. 'but, (said he,) before leaving england i am to take a jaunt to oxford, birmingham, my native city lichfield, and my old friend, dr. taylor's, at ashbourn, in derbyshire. i shall go in a few days, and you, boswell, shall go with me.' i was ready to accompany him; being willing even to leave london to have the pleasure of his conversation. we got into a boat to cross over to black-friars; and as we moved along the thames, i talked to him of a little volume, which, altogether unknown to him, was advertised to be published in a few days, under the title of johnsoniana, or bon-mots of dr. johnson. johnson. 'sir, it is a mighty impudent thing.' boswell. 'pray, sir, could you have no redress if you were to prosecute a publisher for bringing out, under your name, what you never said, and ascribing to you dull stupid nonsense, or making you swear profanely, as many ignorant relaters of your bon-mots do?' johnson. 'no, sir; there will always be some truth mixed with the falsehood, and how can it be ascertained how much is true and how much is false? besides, sir, what damages would a jury give me for having been represented as swearing?' boswell. 'i think, sir, you should at least disavow such a publication, because the world and posterity might with much plausible foundation say, "here is a volume which was publickly advertised and came out in dr. johnson's own time, and, by his silence, was admitted by him to be genuine."' johnson. 'i shall give myself no trouble about the matter.' he was, perhaps, above suffering from such spurious publications; but i could not help thinking, that many men would be much injured in their reputation, by having absurd and vicious sayings imputed to them; and that redress ought in such cases to be given. he said, 'the value of every story depends on its being true. a story is a picture either of an individual or of human nature in general: if it be false, it is a picture of nothing. for instance: suppose a man should tell that johnson, before setting out for italy, as he had to cross the alps, sat down to make himself wings. this many people would believe; but it would be a picture of nothing. ******* (naming a worthy friend of ours,) used to think a story, a story, till i shewed him that truth was essential to it.' i observed, that foote entertained us with stories which were not true; but that, indeed, it was properly not as narratives that foote's stories pleased us, but as collections of ludicrous images. johnson. 'foote is quite impartial, for he tells lies of every body.' the importance of strict and scrupulous veracity cannot be too often inculcated. johnson was known to be so rigidly attentive to it, that even in his common conversation the slightest circumstance was mentioned with exact precision. the knowledge of his having such a principle and habit made his friends have a perfect reliance on the truth of every thing that he told, however it might have been doubted if told by many others. as an instance of this, i may mention an odd incident which he related as having happened to him one night in fleet-street. 'a gentlewoman (said he) begged i would give her my arm to assist her in crossing the street, which i accordingly did; upon which she offered me a shilling, supposing me to be the watchman. i perceived that she was somewhat in liquor.' this, if told by most people, would have been thought an invention; when told by johnson, it was believed by his friends as much as if they had seen what passed. we landed at the temple-stairs, where we parted. i found him in the evening in mrs. williams's room. finding him still persevering in his abstinence from wine, i ventured to speak to him of it--johnson. 'sir, i have no objection to a man's drinking wine, if he can do it in moderation. i found myself apt to go to excess in it, and therefore, after having been for some time without it, on account of illness, i thought it better not to return to it. every man is to judge for himself, according to the effects which he experiences. one of the fathers tells us, he found fasting made him so peevish that he did not practise it.' though he often enlarged upon the evil of intoxication, he was by no means harsh and unforgiving to those who indulged in occasional excess in wine. one of his friends, i well remember, came to sup at a tavern with him and some other gentlemen, and too plainly discovered that he had drunk too much at dinner. when one who loved mischief, thinking to produce a severe censure, asked johnson, a few days afterwards, 'well, sir, what did your friend say to you, as an apology for being in such a situation?' johnson answered, 'sir, he said all that a man should say: he said he was sorry for it.' i again visited him on monday. he took occasion to enlarge, as he often did, upon the wretchedness of a sea-life. 'a ship is worse than a gaol. there is, in a gaol, better air, better company, better conveniency of every kind; and a ship has the additional disadvantage of being in danger. when men come to like a sea-life, they are not fit to live on land.'--'then (said i) it would be cruel in a father to breed his son to the sea.' johnson. 'it would be cruel in a father who thinks as i do. men go to sea, before they know the unhappiness of that way of life; and when they have come to know it, they cannot escape from it, because it is then too late to choose another profession; as indeed is generally the case with men, when they have once engaged in any particular way of life.' on tuesday, march , which was fixed for our proposed jaunt, we met in the morning at the somerset coffee-house in the strand, where we were taken up by the oxford coach. he was accompanied by mr. gwyn, the architect; and a gentleman of merton college, whom we did not know, had the fourth seat. we soon got into conversation; for it was very remarkable of johnson, that the presence of a stranger had no restraint upon his talk. i observed that garrick, who was about to quit the stage, would soon have an easier life. johnson. 'i doubt that, sir.' boswell. 'why, sir, he will be atlas with the burthen off his back.' johnson. 'but i know not, sir, if he will be so steady without his load. however, he should never play any more, but be entirely the gentleman, and not partly the player: he should no longer subject himself to be hissed by a mob, or to be insolently treated by performers, whom he used to rule with a high hand, and who would gladly retaliate.' boswell. 'i think he should play once a year for the benefit of decayed actors, as it has been said he means to do.' johnson. 'alas, sir! he will soon be a decayed actor himself.' johnson expressed his disapprobation of ornamental architecture, such as magnificent columns supporting a portico, or expensive pilasters supporting merely their own capitals, 'because it consumes labour disproportionate to its utility.' for the same reason he satyrised statuary. 'painting (said he) consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect; but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make something in stone that hardly resembles a man. the value of statuary is owing to its difficulty. you would not value the finest head cut upon a carrot.' gwyn was a fine lively rattling fellow. dr. johnson kept him in subjection, but with a kindly authority. the spirit of the artist, however, rose against what he thought a gothick attack, and he made a brisk defence. 'what, sir, will you allow no value to beauty in architecture or in statuary? why should we allow it then in writing? why do you take the trouble to give us so many fine allusions, and bright images, and elegant phrases? you might convey all your instruction without these ornaments.' johnson smiled with complacency; but said, 'why, sir, all these ornaments are useful, because they obtain an easier reception for truth; but a building is not at all more convenient for being decorated with superfluous carved work.' gwyn at last was lucky enough to make one reply to dr. johnson, which he allowed to be excellent. johnson censured him for taking down a church which might have stood many years, and building a new one at a different place, for no other reason but that there might be a direct road to a new bridge; and his expression was, 'you are taking a church out of the way, that the people may go in a straight line to the bridge.'--'no, sir, (said gwyn,) i am putting the church in the way, that the people may not go out of the way.' johnson. (with a hearty loud laugh of approbation,) 'speak no more. rest your colloquial fame upon this.' upon our arrival at oxford, dr. johnson and i went directly to university college, but were disappointed on finding that one of the fellows, his friend mr. scott, who accompanied him from newcastle to edinburgh, was gone to the country. we put up at the angel inn, and passed the evening by ourselves in easy and familiar conversation. talking of constitutional melancholy, he observed, 'a man so afflicted, sir, must divert distressing thoughts, and not combat with them.' boswell. 'may not he think them down, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir. to attempt to think them down is madness. he should have a lamp constantly burning in his bed-chamber during the night, and if wakefully disturbed, take a book, and read, and compose himself to rest. to have the management of the mind is a great art, and it may be attained in a considerable degree by experience and habitual exercise.' boswell. 'should not he provide amusements for himself? would it not, for instance, be right for him to take a course of chymistry?' johnson. 'let him take a course of chymistry, or a course of rope-dancing, or a course of any thing to which he is inclined at the time. let him contrive to have as many retreats for his mind as he can, as many things to which it can fly from itself. burton's anatomy of melancholy is a valuable work. it is, perhaps, overloaded with quotation. but there is great spirit and great power in what burton says, when he writes from his own mind.' next morning we visited dr. wetherell, master of university college, with whom dr. johnson conferred on the most advantageous mode of disposing of the books printed at the clarendon press. i often had occasion to remark, johnson loved business, loved to have his wisdom actually operate on real life. we then went to pembroke college, and waited on his old friend dr. adams, the master of it, whom i found to be a most polite, pleasing, communicative man. before his advancement to the headship of his college, i had intended to go and visit him at shrewsbury, where he was rector of st. chad's, in order to get from him what particulars he could recollect of johnson's academical life. he now obligingly gave me part of that authentick information, which, with what i afterwards owed to his kindness, will be found incorporated in its proper place in this work. dr. adams told us, that in some of the colleges at oxford, the fellows had excluded the students from social intercourse with them in the common room. johnson. 'they are in the right, sir: there can be no real conversation, no fair exertion of mind amongst them, if the young men are by; for a man who has a character does not choose to stake it in their presence.' boswell. 'but, sir, may there not be very good conversation without a contest for superiority?' johnson. 'no animated conversation, sir, for it cannot be but one or other will come off superiour. i do not mean that the victor must have the better of the argument, for he may take the weak side; but his superiority of parts and knowledge will necessarily appear: and he to whom he thus shews himself superiour is lessened in the eyes of the young men.' we walked with dr. adams into the master's garden, and into the common room. johnson. (after a reverie of meditation,) 'ay! here i used to play at draughts with phil. jones and fludyer. jones loved beer, and did not get very forward in the church. fludyer turned out a scoundrel, a whig, and said he was ashamed of having been bred at oxford. he had a living at putney, and got under the eye of some retainers to the court at that time, and so became a violent whig: but he had been a scoundrel all along to be sure.' boswell. 'was he a scoundrel, sir, in any other way than that of being a political scoundrel? did he cheat at draughts?' johnson. 'sir, we never played for money.' he then carried me to visit dr. bentham, canon of christ-church, and divinity professor, with whose learned and lively conversation we were much pleased. he gave us an invitation to dinner, which dr. johnson told me was a high honour. 'sir, it is a great thing to dine with the canons of christ-church.' we could not accept his invitation, as we were engaged to dine at university college. we had an excellent dinner there, with the master and fellows, it being st. cuthbert's day, which is kept by them as a festival, as he was a saint of durham, with which this college is much connected. we drank tea with dr. horne, late president of magdalen college, and bishop of norwich, of whose abilities, in different respects, the publick has had eminent proofs, and the esteem annexed to whose character was increased by knowing him personally. we then went to trinity college, where he introduced me to mr. thomas warton, with whom we passed a part of the evening. we talked of biography--johnson. 'it is rarely well executed. they only who live with a man can write his life with any genuine exactness and discrimination; and few people who have lived with a man know what to remark about him. the chaplain of a late bishop, whom i was to assist in writing some memoirs of his lordship, could tell me scarcely any thing.' i said, mr. robert dodsley's life should be written, as he had been so much connected with the wits of his time, and by his literary merit had raised himself from the station of a footman. mr. warton said, he had published a little volume under the title of the muse in livery. johnson. 'i doubt whether dodsley's brother would thank a man who should write his life: yet dodsley himself was not unwilling that his original low condition should be recollected. when lord lyttelton's dialogues of the dead came out, one of which is between apicius, an ancient epicure, and dartineuf, a modern epicure, dodsley said to me, "i knew dartineuf well, for i was once his footman."' i mentioned sir richard steele having published his christian hero, with the avowed purpose of obliging himself to lead a religious life; yet, that his conduct was by no means strictly suitable. johnson. 'steele, i believe, practised the lighter vices.' mr. warton, being engaged, could not sup with us at our inn; we had therefore another evening by ourselves. i asked johnson, whether a man's being forward to make himself known to eminent people, and seeing as much of life, and getting as much information as he could in every way, was not yet lessening himself by his forwardness. johnson. 'no, sir, a man always makes himself greater as he increases his knowledge. i censured some ludicrous fantastick dialogues between two coach-horses and other such stuff, which baretti had lately published. he joined with me, and said, 'nothing odd will do long. tristram shandy did not last.' i expressed a desire to be acquainted with a lady who had been much talked of, and universally celebrated for extraordinary address and insinuation. johnson. 'never believe extraordinary characters which you hear of people. depend upon it, sir, they are exaggerated. you do not see one man shoot a great deal higher than another.' i mentioned mr. burke. johnson. 'yes; burke is an extraordinary man. his stream of mind is perpetual.' it is very pleasing to me to record, that johnson's high estimation of the talents of this gentleman was uniform from their early acquaintance. sir joshua reynolds informs me, that when mr. burke was first elected a member of parliament, and sir john hawkins expressed a wonder at his attaining a seat, johnson said, 'now we who know mr. burke, know, that he will be one of the first men in this country.' and once, when johnson was ill, and unable to exert himself as much as usual without fatigue, mr. burke having been mentioned, he said, 'that fellow calls forth all my powers. were i to see burke now it would kill me.' so much was he accustomed to consider conversation as a contest, and such was his notion of burke as an opponent. next morning, thursday, march , we set out in a post-chaise to pursue our ramble. it was a delightful day, and we rode through blenheim park. when i looked at the magnificent bridge built by john duke of marlborough, over a small rivulet, and recollected the epigram made upon it-- 'the lofty arch his high ambition shows, the stream, an emblem of his bounty flows:' and saw that now, by the genius of brown, a magnificent body of water was collected, i said, 'they have drowned the epigram.' i observed to him, while in the midst of the noble scene around us, 'you and i, sir, have, i think, seen together the extremes of what can be seen in britain:--the wild rough island of mull, and blenheim park.' we dined at an excellent inn at chapel-house, where he expatiated on the felicity of england in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the french for not having, in any perfection, the tavern life. 'there is no private house, (said he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so well, as at a capital tavern. let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that every body should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. the master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own. whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. you are sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. no servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward, in proportion as they please. no, sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.'* he then repeated, with great emotion, shenstone's lines:-- 'whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, where'er his stages may have been, may sigh to think he still has found the warmest welcome at an inn.' * sir john hawkins has preserved very few memorabilia of johnson. there is, however, to be found, in his bulky tome [p. ], a very excellent one upon this subject:--'in contradiction to those, who, having a wife and children, prefer domestick enjoyments to those which a tavern affords, i have heard him assert, that a tavern chair was the throne of human felicity.--"as soon," said he, "as i enter the door of a tavern, i experience an oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude: when i am seated, i find the master courteous, and the servants obsequious to my call; anxious to know and ready to supply my wants: wine there exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me to free conversation and an interchange of discourse with those whom i most love: i dogmatise and am contradicted, and in this conflict of opinions and sentiments i find delight."'--boswell. in the afternoon, as we were driven rapidly along in the post-chaise, he said to me 'life has not many things better than this.' we stopped at stratford-upon-avon, and drank tea and coffee; and it pleased me to be with him upon the classick ground of shakspeare's native place. he spoke slightingly of dyer's fleece.--'the subject, sir, cannot be made poetical. how can a man write poetically of serges and druggets? yet you will hear many people talk to you gravely of that excellent poem, the fleece.' having talked of grainger's sugar-cane, i mentioned to him mr. langton's having told me, that this poem, when read in manuscript at sir joshua reynolds's, had made all the assembled wits burst into a laugh, when, after much blank-verse pomp, the poet began a new paragraph thus:-- 'now, muse, let's sing of rats.' and what increased the ridicule was, that one of the company, who slily overlooked the reader, perceived that the word had been originally mice, and had been altered to rats, as more dignified. johnson said, that dr. grainger was an agreeable man; a man who would do any good that was in his power. his translation of tibullus, he thought, was very well done; but the sugar-cane, a poem, did not please him; for, he exclaimed, 'what could he make of a sugar-cane? one might as well write the "parsley-bed, a poem;" or "the cabbage-garden, a poem."' boswell. 'you must then pickle your cabbage with the sal atticum.' johnson. 'you know there is already the hop-garden, a poem: and, i think, one could say a great deal about cabbage. the poem might begin with the advantages of civilized society over a rude state, exemplified by the scotch, who had no cabbages till oliver cromwell's soldiers introduced them; and one might thus shew how arts are propagated by conquest, as they were by the roman arms.' he seemed to be much diverted with the fertility of his own fancy. i told him, that i heard dr. percy was writing the history of the wolf in great-britain. johnson. 'the wolf, sir! why the wolf? why does he not write of the bear, which we had formerly? nay, it is said we had the beaver. or why does he not write of the grey rat, the hanover rat, as it is called, because it is said to have come into this country about the time that the family of hanover came? i should like to see the history of the grey rat, by thomas percy, d. d., chaplain in ordinary to his majesty,' (laughing immoderately). boswell. 'i am afraid a court chaplain could not decently write of the grey rat.' johnson. 'sir, he need not give it the name of the hanover rat.' thus could he indulge a luxuriant sportive imagination, when talking of a friend whom he loved and esteemed. on friday, march , having set out early from henley, where we had lain the preceding night, we arrived at birmingham about nine o'clock, and, after breakfast, went to call on his old schoolfellow mr. hector. a very stupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that 'her master was gone out; he was gone to the country; she could not tell when he would return.' in short, she gave us a miserable reception; and johnson observed, 'she would have behaved no better to people who wanted him in the way of his profession.' he said to her, 'my name is johnson; tell him i called. will you remember the name?' she answered with rustick simplicity, in the warwickshire pronunciation, 'i don't understand you, sir.'--'blockhead, (said he,) i'll write.' i never heard the word blockhead applied to a woman before, though i do not see why it should not, when there is evident occasion for it. he, however, made another attempt to make her understand him, and roared loud in her ear, 'johnson,' and then she catched the sound. we next called on mr. lloyd, one of the people called quakers. he too was not at home; but mrs. lloyd was, and received us courteously, and asked us to dinner. johnson said to me, 'after the uncertainty of all human things at hector's, this invitation came very well.' we walked about the town, and he was pleased to see it increasing. mr. lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met friend hector, as mr. lloyd called him. it gave me pleasure to observe the joy which johnson and he expressed on seeing each other again. mr. lloyd and i left them together, while he obligingly shewed me some of the manufactures of this very curious assemblage of artificers. we all met at dinner at mr. lloyd's, where we were entertained with great hospitality. mr. and mrs. lloyd had been married the same year with their majesties, and like them, had been blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers being exactly the same. johnson said, 'marriage is the best state for a man in general; and every man is a worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married state.' dr. johnson said to me in the morning, 'you will see, sir, at mr. hector's, his sister, mrs. careless, a clergyman's widow. she was the first woman with whom i was in love. it dropt out of my head imperceptibly; but she and i shall always have a kindness for each other.' he laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy. on our return from mr. bolton's, mr. hector took me to his house, where we found johnson sitting placidly at tea, with his first love; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and well-bred. johnson lamented to mr. hector the state of one of their school-fellows, mr. charles congreve, a clergyman, which he thus described: 'he obtained, i believe, considerable preferment in ireland, but now lives in london, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but his own. he takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day. he has an elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with him, and jogs his elbow when his glass has stood too long empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy. he confesses to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more. he is quite unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical: and when, at my last visit, i asked him what a clock it was? that signal of my departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to look at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.' when johnson took leave of mr. hector, he said, 'don't grow like congreve; nor let me grow like him, when you are near me.' when he again talked of mrs. careless to-night, he seemed to have had his affection revived; for he said, 'if i had married her, it might have been as happy for me.' boswell. 'pray, sir, do you not suppose that there are fifty women in the world, with any one of whom a man may be as happy, as with any one woman in particular?' johnson. 'ay, sir, fifty thousand.' boswell. 'then, sir, you are not of opinion with some who imagine that certain men and certain women are made for each other; and that they cannot be happy if they miss their counterparts?' johnson. 'to be sure not, sir. i believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the lord chancellor, upon a due consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties having any choice in the matter.' i wished to have staid at birmingham to-night, to have talked more with mr. hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native city; so we drove on that stage in the dark, and were long pensive and silent. when we came within the focus of the lichfield lamps, 'now (said he,) we are getting out of a state of death.' we put up at the three crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old fashioned one, which was kept by mr. wilkins, and was the very next house to that in which johnson was born and brought up, and which was still his own property. we had a comfortable supper, and got into high spirits. i felt all my toryism glow in this old capital of staffordshire. i could have offered incense genio loci; and i indulged in libations of that ale, which boniface, in the beaux stratagem, recommends with such an eloquent jollity. next morning he introduced me to mrs. lucy porter, his step-daughter. she was now an old maid, with much simplicity of manner. she had never been in london. her brother, a captain in the navy, had left her a fortune of ten thousand pounds; about a third of which she had laid out in building a stately house, and making a handsome garden, in an elevated situation in lichfield. johnson, when here by himself, used to live at her house. she reverenced him, and he had a parental tenderness for her. we then visited mr. peter garrick, who had that morning received a letter from his brother david, announcing our coming to lichfield. he was engaged to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to sleep at his house. johnson, however, would not quit his old acquaintance wilkins, of the three crowns. the family likeness of the garricks was very striking; and johnson thought that david's vivacity was not so peculiar to himself as was supposed. 'sir, (said he,) i don't know but if peter had cultivated all the arts of gaiety as much as david has done, he might have been as brisk and lively. depend upon it, sir, vivacity is much an art, and depends greatly on habit.' i believe there is a good deal of truth in this, notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by a lady abroad, of a heavy german baron, who had lived much with the young english at geneva, and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which view, he, with assiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and chairs in his lodgings; and when the people of the house ran in and asked, with surprize, what was the matter, he answered, 'sh' apprens t'etre fif.' we dined at our inn, and had with us a mr. jackson, one of johnson's schoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindness, though he seemed to be a low man, dull and untaught. he had a coarse grey coat, black waistcoat, greasy leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his countenance had the ruddiness which betokens one who is in no haste to 'leave his can.' he drank only ale. he had tried to be a cutler at birmingham, but had not succeeded; and now he lived poorly at home, and had some scheme of dressing leather in a better manner than common; to his indistinct account of which, dr. johnson listened with patient attention, that he might assist him with his advice. here was an instance of genuine humanity and real kindness in this great man, who has been most unjustly represented as altogether harsh and destitute of tenderness. a thousand such instances might have been recorded in the course of his long life; though that his temper was warm and hasty, and his manner often rough, cannot be denied. i saw here, for the first time, oat ale; and oat cakes not hard as in scotland, but soft like a yorkshire cake, were served at breakfast. it was pleasant to me to find, that oats, the food of horses, were so much used as the food of the people in dr. johnson's own town. he expatiated in praise of lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said, were 'the most sober, decent people in england, the genteelest in proportion to their wealth, and spoke the purest english.' i doubted as to the last article of this eulogy: for they had several provincial sounds; as there, pronounced like fear, instead of like fair; once pronounced woonse, instead of wunse, or wonse. johnson himself never got entirely free of those provincial accents. garrick sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, 'who's for poonsh?' very little business appeared to be going forward in lichfield. i found however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-cloth and streamers for ships; and i observed them making some saddle-cloths, and dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the busy hand of industry seemed to be quite slackened. 'surely, sir, (said i,) you are an idle set of people.' 'sir, (said johnson,) we are a city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the boobies of birmingham work for us with their hands.' there was at this time a company of players performing at lichfield, the manager, mr. stanton, sent his compliments, and begged leave to wait on dr. johnson. johnson received him very courteously, and he drank a glass of wine with us. he was a plain decent well-behaved man, and expressed his gratitude to dr. johnson for having once got him permission from dr. taylor at ashbourne to play there upon moderate terms. garrick's name was soon introduced. johnson. 'garrick's conversation is gay and grotesque. it is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. there is no solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. not but that he has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, too, very powerful and very pleasing: but it has not its full proportion in his conversation.' when we were by ourselves he told me, 'forty years ago, sir, i was in love with an actress here, mrs. emmet, who acted flora, in hob in the well.' what merit this lady had as an actress, or what was her figure, or her manner, i have not been informed: but, if we may believe mr. garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was by no means refined; he was not an elegans formarum spectator. garrick used to tell, that johnson said of an actor, who played sir harry wildair at lichfield, 'there is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;' when in fact, according to garrick's account, 'he was the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon boards.' we had promised mr. stanton to be at his theatre on monday. dr. johnson jocularly proposed me to write a prologue for the occasion: 'a prologue, by james boswell, esq. from the hebrides.' i was really inclined to take the hint. methought, 'prologue, spoken before dr. samuel johnson, at lichfield, ;' would have sounded as well as, 'prologue, spoken before the duke of york, at oxford,' in charles the second's time. much might have been said of what lichfield had done for shakspeare, by producing johnson and garrick. but i found he was averse to it. we went and viewed the museum of mr. richard green, apothecary here, who told me he was proud of being a relation of dr. johnson's. it was, truely, a wonderful collection, both of antiquities and natural curiosities, and ingenious works of art. he had all the articles accurately arranged, with their names upon labels, printed at his own little press; and on the staircase leading to it was a board, with the names of contributors marked in gold letters. a printed catalogue of the collection was to be had at a bookseller's. johnson expressed his admiration of the activity and diligence and good fortune of mr. green, in getting together, in his situation, so great a variety of things; and mr. green told me that johnson once said to him, 'sir, i should as soon have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting such a museum.' mr. green's obliging alacrity in shewing it was very pleasing. we drank tea and coffee at mr. peter garrick's, where was mrs. aston, one of the maiden sisters of mrs. walmsley, wife of johnson's first friend, and sister also of the lady of whom johnson used to speak with the warmest admiration, by the name of molly aston, who was afterwards married to captain brodie of the navy. on sunday, march , we breakfasted with mrs. cobb, a widow lady, who lived in an agreeable sequestered place close by the town, called the friary, it having been formerly a religious house. she and her niece, miss adey, were great admirers of dr. johnson; and he behaved to them with a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we see between old and intimate acquaintance. he accompanied mrs. cobb to st. mary's church, and i went to the cathedral, where i was very much delighted with the musick, finding it to be peculiarly solemn and accordant with the words of the service. we dined at mr. peter garrick's, who was in a very lively humour, and verified johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as much as his brother david, he might have equally excelled in it. he was to-day quite a london narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that earnestness and attempt at mimicry which we usually find in the wits of the metropolis. dr. johnson went with me to the cathedral in the afternoon. it was grand and pleasing to contemplate this illustrious writer, now full of fame, worshipping in the 'solemn temple' of his native city. i returned to tea and coffee at mr. peter garrick's, and then found dr. johnson at the reverend mr. seward's, canon residentiary, who inhabited the bishop's palace, in which mr. walmsley lived, and which had been the scene of many happy hours in johnson's early life. on monday, march , we breakfasted at mrs. lucy porter's. johnson had sent an express to dr. taylor's, acquainting him of our being at lichfield, and taylor had returned an answer that his postchaise should come for us this day. while we sat at breakfast, dr. johnson received a letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him very much. when he had read it, he exclaimed, 'one of the most dreadful things that has happened in my time.' the phrase my time, like the word age, is usually understood to refer to an event of a publick or general nature. i imagined something like an assassination of the king--like a gunpowder plot carried into execution--or like another fire of london. when asked, 'what is it, sir?' he answered, 'mr. thrale has lost his only son!' this was, no doubt, a very great affliction to mr. and mrs. thrale, which their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner in which the intelligence of it was communicated by johnson, it appeared for the moment to be comparatively small. i, however, soon felt a sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how dr. johnson would be affected. he said, 'this is a total extinction to their family, as much as if they were sold into captivity.' upon my mentioning that mr. thrale had daughters, who might inherit his wealth;--'daughters, (said johnson, warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than--' i was going to speak.--'sir, (said he,) don't you know how you yourself think? sir, he wishes to propagate his name.' in short, i saw male succession strong in his mind, even where there was no name, no family of any long standing. i said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune happened. johnson. 'it is lucky for me. people in distress never think that you feel enough.' boswell. 'and sir, they will have the hope of seeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time; and when you get to them, the pain will be so far abated, that they will be capable of being consoled by you, which, in the first violence of it, i believe, would not be the case.' johnson. 'no, sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain of body, must be severely felt.' boswell. 'i own, sir, i have not so much feeling for the distress of others, as some people have, or pretend to have: but i know this, that i would do all in my power to relieve them.' johnson. 'sir it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of others, as much as they do themselves. it is equally so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is cutting off, as he does. no, sir; you have expressed the rational and just nature of sympathy. i would have gone to the extremity of the earth to have preserved this boy.' he was soon quite calm. the letter was from mr. thrale's clerk, and concluded, 'i need not say how much they wish to see you in london.' he said, 'we shall hasten back from taylor's.' mrs. lucy porter and some other ladies of the place talked a great deal of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration but affection. it pleased me to find that he was so much beloved in his native city. mrs. aston, whom i had seen the preceding night, and her sister, mrs. gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and pleasure-ground, prettily situated upon stowhill, a gentle eminence, adjoining to lichfield. johnson walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myself without any apology; i wondered at this want of that facility of manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a friend to a house where he is intimate; i felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in solitude in a country town, where i was an entire stranger, and began to think myself unkindly deserted; but i was soon relieved, and convinced that my friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted the matter with perfect propriety, for i received the following note in his handwriting: 'mrs. gastrel, at the lower house on stowhill, desires mr. boswell's company to dinner at two.' i accepted of the invitation, and had here another proof how amiable his character was in the opinion of those who knew him best. i was not informed, till afterwards, that mrs. gastrel's husband was the clergyman who, while he lived at stratford upon avon, where he was proprietor of shakspeare's garden, with gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-tree, and, as dr. johnson told me, did it to vex his neighbours. his lady, i have reason to believe, on the same authority, participated in the guilt of what the enthusiasts for our immortal bard deem almost a species of sacrilege. after dinner dr. johnson wrote a letter to mrs. thrale on the death of her son. i said it would be very distressing to thrale, but she would soon forget it, as she had so many things to think of. johnson. 'no, sir, thrale will forget it first. she has many things that she may think of. he has many things that he must think of.' this was a very just remark upon the different effect of those light pursuits which occupy a vacant and easy mind, and those serious engagements which arrest attention, and keep us from brooding over grief. in the evening we went to the town-hall, which was converted into a temporary theatre, and saw theodosius, with the stratford jubilee. i was happy to see dr. johnson sitting in a conspicuous part of the pit, and receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance. we were quite gay and merry. i afterwards mentioned to him that i condemned myself for being so, when poor mr. and mrs. thrale were in such distress. johnson. 'you are wrong, sir; twenty years hence mr. and mrs. thrale will not suffer much pain from the death of their son. now, sir, you are to consider, that distance of place, as well as distance of time, operates upon the human feelings. i would not have you be gay in the presence of the distressed, because it would shock them; but you may be gay at a distance. pain for the loss of a friend, or of a relation whom we love, is occasioned by the want which we feel. in time the vacuity is filled with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes up of itself.' mr. seward and mr. pearson, another clergyman here, supt with us at our inn, and after they left us, we sat up late as we used to do in london. here i shall record some fragments of my friend's conversation during this jaunt. 'marriage, sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman; for he is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts. you will recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that i had often wondered why young women should marry, as they have so much more freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while unmarried, than when married. i indeed did not mention the strong reason for their marrying--the mechanical reason.' boswell. 'why, that is a strong one. but does not imagination make it much more important than it is in reality? is it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in us as well as in women?' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but it is a delusion that is always beginning again.' boswell. 'i don't know but there is upon the whole more misery than happiness produced by that passion.' johnson. 'i don't think so, sir.' 'never speak of a man in his own presence. it is always indelicate, and may be offensive.' 'questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen. it is assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong to question a man concerning himself. there may be parts of his former life which he may not wish to be made known to other persons, or even brought to his own recollection.' 'a man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own disadvantage. people may be amused and laugh at the time, but they will be remembered, and brought out against him upon some subsequent occasion.' 'much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular object. by doing so, norton has made himself the great lawyer that he is allowed to be.' on tuesday, march , there came for us an equipage properly suited to a wealthy well-beneficed clergyman;--dr. taylor's large roomy post-chaise, drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly postillions, which conveyed us to ashbourne; where i found my friend's schoolfellow living upon an establishment perfectly corresponding with his substantial creditable equipage: his house, garden, pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing good, and no scantiness appearing. every man should form such a plan of living as he can execute completely. let him not draw an outline wider than he can fill up. i have seen many skeletons of shew and magnificence which excite at once ridicule and pity. dr. taylor had a good estate of his own, and good preferment in the church, being a prebendary of westminster, and rector of bosworth. he was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over the town of ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which i was told he was very liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them as stood in need of his assistance. he had consequently a considerable political interest in the county of derby, which he employed to support the devonshire family; for though the schoolfellow and friend of johnson, he was a whig. i could not perceive in his character much congeniality of any sort with that of johnson, who, however, said to me, 'sir, he has a very strong understanding.' his size, and figure, and countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty english 'squire, with the parson super-induced: and i took particular notice of his upper servant, mr. peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white wig, like the butler or major domo of a bishop. dr. johnson and dr. taylor met with great cordiality; and johnson soon gave him the same sad account of their school-fellow, congreve, that he had given to mr. hector; adding a remark of such moment to the rational conduct of a man in the decline of life, that it deserves to be imprinted upon every mind: 'there is nothing against which an old man should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to nurse. innumerable have been the melancholy instances of men once distinguished for firmness, resolution, and spirit, who in their latter days have been governed like children, by interested female artifice. dr. taylor commended a physician who was known to him and dr. johnson, and said, 'i fight many battles for him, as many people in the country dislike him.' johnson. 'but you should consider, sir, that by every one of your victories he is a loser; for, every man of whom you get the better, will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him; whereas if people get the better of you in argument about him, they'll think, "we'll send for dr. ****** nevertheless."' this was an observation deep and sure in human nature. next day, as dr. johnson had acquainted dr. taylor of the reason for his returning speedily to london, it was resolved that we should set out after dinner. a few of dr. taylor's neighbours were his guests that day. dr. johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the state of the philosophical wise man, that is to have no want of any thing. 'then, sir, (said i,) the savage is a wise man.' 'sir, (said he,) i do not mean simply being without,--but not having a want.' i maintained, against this proposition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for instance, than not to feel the want of them. johnson. 'no, sir; fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring respect. was charles the twelfth, think you, less respected for his coarse blue coat and black stock? and you find the king of prussia dresses plain, because the dignity of his character is sufficient.' i here brought myself into a scrape, for i heedlessly said, 'would not you, sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?' johnson. 'sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your opponent himself. have you no better manners? there is your want.' i apologised by saying, i had mentioned him as an instance of one who wanted as little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might receive some additional lustre from dress. having left ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses at derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the conversation of my countryman, dr. butter, then physician there. he was in great indignation because lord mountstuart's bill for a scotch militia had been lost. dr. johnson was as violent against it. 'i am glad, (said he,) that parliament has had the spirit to throw it out. you wanted to take advantage of the timidity of our scoundrels;' (meaning, i suppose, the ministry). it may be observed, that he used the epithet scoundrel very commonly not quite in the sense in which it is generally understood, but as a strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly answered mrs. thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'ready to become a scoundrel, madam; with a little more spoiling you will, i think, make me a complete rascal:' he meant, easy to become a capricious and self-indulgent valetudinarian; a character for which i have heard him express great disgust. we lay this night at loughborough. on thursday, march , we pursued our journey. he said, 'it is commonly a weak man who marries for love.' we then talked of marrying women of fortune; and i mentioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in expenses. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this is not true. a woman of fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that she throws it away with great profusion.' he praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were more faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every respect, than in former times, because their understandings were better cultivated. at leicester we read in the news-paper that dr. james was dead. i thought that the death of an old school-fellow, and one with whom he had lived a good deal in london, would have affected my fellow-traveller much: but he only said, ah! poor jamy.' afterwards, however, when we were in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness, 'since i set out on this jaunt, i have lost an old friend and a young one;--dr. james, and poor harry.' (meaning mr. thrale's son.) i enjoyed the luxury of our approach to london, that metropolis which we both loved so much, for the high and varied intellectual pleasure which it furnishes. i experienced immediate happiness while whirled along with such a companion, and said to him, 'sir, you observed one day at general oglethorpe's, that a man is never happy for the present, but when he is drunk. will you not add,--or when driving rapidly in a post-chaise?' johnson. 'no, sir, you are driving rapidly from something, or to something.' talking of melancholy, he said, 'some men, and very thinking men too, have not those vexing thoughts. sir joshua reynolds is the same all the year round. beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, is the same. but i believe most men have them in the degree in which they are capable of having them. if i were in the country, and were distressed by that malady, i would force myself to take a book; and every time i did it i should find it the easier. melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drinking.' we stopped at messieurs dillys, booksellers in the poultry; from whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to mr. thrale's, in the borough. i called at his house in the evening, having promised to acquaint mrs. williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, i found him sitting with her at tea, and, as i thought, not in a very good humour: for, it seems, when he had got to mr. thrale's, he found the coach was at the door waiting to carry mrs. and miss thrale, and signor baretti, their italian master, to bath. this was not shewing the attention which might have been expected to the 'guide, philosopher, and friend,' the imlac who had hastened from the country to console a distressed mother, who he understood was very anxious for his return. they had, i found, without ceremony, proceeded on their intended journey. i was glad to understand from him that it was still resolved that his tour to italy with mr. and mrs. thrale should take place, of which he had entertained some doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. he observed, indeed very justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the party, he would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his advice was asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished on his own account.' i was not pleased that his intimacy with mr. thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint: not, as has been grossly suggested, that it was required of him as a task to talk for the entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite at his ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too compliant. on sunday, march , i called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity which i had discovered, his translation of lobo's account of abyssinia, which sir john pringle had lent me, it being then little known as one of his works. he said, 'take no notice of it,' or 'don't talk of it.' he seemed to think it beneath him, though done at six-and-twenty. i said to him, 'your style, sir, is much improved since you translated this.' he answered with a sort of triumphant smile, 'sir, i hope it is.' on wednesday, april , in the morning i found him very busy putting his books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of dust were flying around him. he had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers use. his present appearance put me in mind of my uncle, dr. boswell's description of him, 'a robust genius, born to grapple with whole libraries.' he had been in company with omai, a native of one of the south sea islands, after he had been some time in this country. he was struck with the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: 'sir, he had passed his time, while in england, only in the best company; so that all that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. as a proof of this, sir, lord mulgrave and he dined one day at streatham; they sat with their backs to the light fronting me, so that i could not see distinctly; and there was so little of the savage in omai, that i was afraid to speak to either, lest i should mistake one for the other.' we agreed to dine to-day at the mitre-tavern after the rising of the house of lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the douglas estate, in which i was one of the counsel, was to come on. i introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the universities of england are too rich; so that learning does not flourish in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller salaries, and depended on their assiduity for a great part of their income. johnson. 'sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the english universities are not rich enough. our fellowships are only sufficient to support a man during his studies to fit him for the world, and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till an opportunity offers of getting away. now and then, perhaps, there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is against his will, unless he be a man very indolent indeed. a hundred a year is reckoned a good fellowship, and that is no more than is necessary to keep a man decently as a scholar. we do not allow our fellows to marry, because we consider academical institutions as preparatory to a settlement in the world. it is only by being employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a livelihood. to be sure a man, who has enough without teaching, will probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could. in the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not exert himself. gresham college was intended as a place of instruction for london; able professors were to read lectures gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; whereas, if they had been allowed to receive but sixpence a lecture from each scholar, they would have been emulous to have had many scholars. every body will agree that it should be the interest of those who teach to have scholars and this is the case in our universities. that they are too rich is certainly not true; for they have nothing good enough to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life. in the foreign universities a professorship is a high thing. it is as much almost as a man can make by his learning; and therefore we find the most learned men abroad are in the universities. it is not so with us. our universities are impoverished of learning, by the penury of their provisions. i wish there were many places of a thousand a-year at oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from quitting the university.' i mentioned mr. maclaurin's uneasiness on account of a degree of ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in goldsmith's history of animated nature, in which that celebrated mathematician is represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story altogether unfounded, but for the publication of which the law would give no reparation. this led us to agitate the question, whether legal redress could be obtained, even when a man's deceased relation was calumniated in a publication. on friday, april , being good friday, after having attended the morning service at st. clement's church, i walked home with johnson. we talked of the roman catholick religion. johnson. 'in the barbarous ages, sir, priests and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there were gross corruptions introduced by the clergy, such as indulgencies to priests to have concubines, and the worship of images, not, indeed, inculcated, but knowingly permitted.' he strongly censured the licensed stews at rome. boswell. 'so then, sir, you would allow of no irregular intercourse whatever between the sexes?' johnson. 'to be sure i would not, sir. i would punish it much more than it is done, and so restrain it. in all countries there has been fornication, as in all countries there has been theft; but there may be more or less of the one, as well as of the other, in proportion to the force of law. all men will naturally commit fornication, as all men will naturally steal. and, sir, it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that prostitutes are necessary to prevent the violent effects of appetite from violating the decent order of life; nay, should be permitted, in order to preserve the chastity of our wives and daughters. depend upon it, sir, severe laws, steadily enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would promote marriage.' mr. thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss of his son with a manly composure. there was no affectation about him; and he talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects. he seemed to me to hesitate as to the intended italian tour, on which, i flattered myself, he and mrs. thrale and dr. johnson were soon to set out; and, therefore, i pressed it as much as i could. i mentioned, that mr. beauclerk had said, that baretti, whom they were to carry with them, would keep them so long in the little towns of his own district, that they would not have time to see rome. i mentioned this, to put them on their guard. johnson. 'sir, we do not thank mr. beauclerk for supposing that we are to be directed by baretti. no, sir; mr. thrale is to go, by my advice, to mr. jackson, (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for seeing the most that can be seen in the time that we have to travel. we must, to be sure, see rome, naples, florence, and venice, and as much more as we can.' (speaking with a tone of animation.) when i expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on italy, he said, 'i do not see that i could make a book upon italy; yet i should be glad to get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds, by such a work.' this shewed both that a journal of his tour upon the continent was not wholly out of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to that strange opinion, which his indolent disposition made him utter: 'no man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.' numerous instances to refute this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature. he gave us one of the many sketches of character which were treasured in his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. 'i lately, (said he,) received a letter from the east indies, from a gentleman whom i formerly knew very well; he had returned from that country with a handsome fortune, as it was reckoned, before means were found to acquire those immense sums which have been brought from thence of late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very prettily in london, till his wife died. after her death, he took to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. one evening he lost a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name i am sorry i have forgotten. next morning he sent the gentleman five hundred pounds, with an apology that it was all he had in the world. the gentleman sent the money back to him, declaring he would not accept of it; and adding, that if mr. ------ had occasion for five hundred pounds more, he would lend it to him. he resolved to go out again to the east indies, and make his fortune anew. he got a considerable appointment, and i had some intention of accompanying him. had i thought then as i do now, i should have gone: but, at that time, i had objections to quitting england.' it was a very remarkable circumstance about johnson, whom shallow observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that very few men had seen greater variety of characters; and none could observe them better, as was evident from the strong, yet nice portraits which he often drew. i have frequently thought that if he had made out what the french call une catalogue raisonnee of all the people who had passed under his observation, it would have afforded a very rich fund of instruction and entertainment. the suddenness with which his accounts of some of them started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than surprizing. i remember he once observed to me, 'it is wonderful, sir, what is to be found in london. the most literary conversation that i ever enjoyed, was at the table of jack ellis, a money-scrivener behind the royal exchange, with whom i at one period used to dine generally once a week.' volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and various acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot; and could describe and discriminate them all with precision and vivacity. he associated with persons the most widely different in manners, abilities, rank, and accomplishments. he was at once the companion of the brilliant colonel forrester of the guards, who wrote the polite philosopher, and of the aukward and uncouth robert levet; of lord thurlow, and mr. sastres, the italian master; and has dined one day with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating lady craven, and the next with good mrs. gardiner, the tallow-chandler, on snow-hill. on my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much of the knowledge peculiar to different professions, he told me, 'i learnt what i know of law, chiefly from mr. ballow, a very able man. i learnt some, too, from chambers; but was not so teachable then. one is not willing to be taught by a young man.' when i expressed a wish to know more about mr. ballow, johnson said, 'sir, i have seen him but once these twenty years. the tide of life has driven us different ways.' i was sorry at the time to hear this; but whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly gets into the great ocean of london, will, by imperceptible degrees, unavoidably experience such cessations of acquaintance. 'my knowledge of physick, (he added,) i learnt from dr. james, whom i helped in writing the proposals for his dictionary and also a little in the dictionary itself. i also learnt from dr. lawrence, but was then grown more stubborn.' a curious incident happened to-day, while mr. thrale and i sat with him. francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from the post-office, said to have come from lisbon, and it was charged seven pounds ten shillings. he would not receive it, supposing it to be some trick, nor did he even look at it. but upon enquiry afterwards he found that it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the east indies of whom he had been speaking; and the ship which carried it having come to portugal, this packet, with others, had been put into the post-office at lisbon. i mentioned a new gaming-club, of which mr. beauclerk had given me an account, where the members played to a desperate extent. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this is mere talk. who is ruined by gaming? you will not find six instances in an age. there is a strange rout made about deep play: whereas you have many more people ruined by adventurous trade, and yet we do not hear such an outcry against it.' thrale. 'there may be few people absolutely ruined by deep play; but very many are much hurt in their circumstances by it.' johnson. 'yes, sir, and so are very many by other kinds of expence.' i had heard him talk once before in the same manner; and at oxford he said, 'he wished he had learnt to play at cards.' the truth, however, is, that he loved to display his ingenuity in argument; and therefore would sometimes in conversation maintain opinions which he was sensible were wrong, but in supporting which, his reasoning and wit would be most conspicuous. he would begin thus: 'why, sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing--' 'now, (said garrick,) he is thinking which side he shall take.' he appeared to have a pleasure in contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered with an air of confidence; so that there was hardly any topick, if not one of the great truths of religion and morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, either for or against. lord elibank had the highest admiration of his powers. he once observed to me, 'whatever opinion johnson maintains, i will not say that he convinces me; but he never fails to shew me, that he has good reasons for it.' i have heard johnson pay his lordship this high compliment: 'i never was in lord elibank's company without learning something.' we sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service. thrale said he had come with intention to go to church with us. we went at seven to evening prayers at st. clement's church, after having drank coffee; an indulgence, which i understood johnson yielded to on this occasion, in compliment to thrale. on sunday, april , easter-day, after having been at st. paul's cathedral, i came to dr. johnson, according to my usual custom. it seemed to me, that there was always something peculiarly mild and placid in his manner upon this holy festival, the commemoration of the most joyful event in the history of our world, the resurrection of our lord and saviour, who, having triumphed over death and the grave, proclaimed immortality to mankind. i repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who maintained, that her husband's having been guilty of numberless infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they were reciprocal. johnson. 'this is miserable stuff, sir. to the contract of marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third party--society; and if it be considered as a vow--god: and, therefore, it cannot be dissolved by their consent alone. laws are not made for particular cases, but for men in general. a woman may be unhappy with her husband; but she cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil and ecclesiastical power. a man may be unhappy, because he is not so rich as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property with his own hand.' boswell. 'but, sir, this lady does not want that the contract should be dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in gallantries with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she takes care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. you know, sir, what macrobius has told us of julia.' johnson. 'this lady of yours, sir, i think, is very fit for a brothel.' mr. macbean, authour of the dictionary of ancient geography, came in. he mentioned that he had been forty years absent from scotland. 'ah, boswell! (said johnson, smiling,) what would you give to be forty years from scotland?' i said, 'i should not like to be so long absent from the seat of my ancestors.' this gentleman, mrs. williams, and mr. levet, dined with us. mrs. williams was very peevish; and i wondered at johnson's patience with her now, as i had often done on similar occasions. the truth is, that his humane consideration of the forlorn and indigent state in which this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the utmost tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amusement, so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with him to their houses, where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of her blindness, she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice sensations. after coffee, we went to afternoon service in st. clement's church. observing some beggars in the street as we walked along, i said to him i supposed there was no civilized country in the world, where the misery of want in the lowest classes of the people was prevented. johnson. 'i believe, sir, there is not; but it is better that some should be unhappy, than that none should be happy, which would be the case in a general state of equality.' when the service was ended, i went home with him, and we sat quietly by ourselves. upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of vicious actions would do well to force himself into solitude and sadness; johnson. 'no, sir, unless it prevent him from being vicious again. with some people, gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside down. a man may be gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has recourse again to criminal indulgencies.' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, where were mr. murphy and some other company. before dinner, dr. johnson and i passed some time by ourselves. i was sorry to find it was now resolved that the proposed journey to italy should not take place this year. he said, 'i am disappointed, to be sure; but it is not a great disappointment.' i wondered to see him bear, with a philosophical calmness, what would have made most people peevish and fretful. i perceived, however, that he had so warmly cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could not easily part with the scheme; for he said: 'i shall probably contrive to get to italy some other way. but i won't mention it to mr. and mrs. thrale, as it might vex them.' i suggested, that going to italy might have done mr. and mrs. thrale good. johnson. 'i rather believe not, sir. while grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. you must wait till grief be digested, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.' i said, i disliked the custom which some people had of bringing their children into company, because it in a manner forced us to pay foolish compliments to please their parents. johnson. 'you are right, sir. we may be excused for not caring much about other people's children, for there are many who care very little about their own children. it may be observed, that men, who from being engaged in business, or from their course of life in whatever way, seldom see their children, do not care much about them. i myself should not have had much fondness for a child of my own.' mrs. thrale. 'nay, sir, how can you talk so?' johnson. 'at least, i never wished to have a child.' he talked of lord lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour; observing, that 'he was thirty years in preparing his history, and that he employed a man to point it for him; as if (laughing) another man could point his sense better than himself.' mr. murphy said, he understood his history was kept back several years for fear of smollet. johnson. 'this seems strange to murphy and me, who never felt that anxiety, but sent what we wrote to the press, and let it take its chance.' mrs. thrale. 'the time has been, sir, when you felt it.' johnson. 'why, really, madam, i do not recollect a time when that was the case.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at general paoli's, in whose house i now resided, and where i had ever afterwards the honour of being entertained with the kindest attention as his constant guest, while i was in london, till i had a house of my own there. i mentioned my having that morning introduced to mr. garrick, count neni, a flemish nobleman of great rank and fortune, to whom garrick talked of abel drugger as a small part; and related, with pleasant vanity, that a frenchman who had seen him in one of his low characters, exclaimed, 'comment! je ne le crois pas. ce n'est pas monsieur garrick, ce grand homme!' garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, 'if i were to begin life again, i think i should not play those low characters.' upon which i observed, 'sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of playing, your representing so well, characters so very different.' johnson. 'garrick, sir, was not in earnest in what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety; and, perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted by somebody else, as he could do it.' boswell. 'why then, sir, did he talk so?' johnson. 'why, sir, to make you answer as you did.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection.' johnson. 'he had not far to dip, sir: he said the same thing, probably, twenty times before.' of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he said, 'his parts, sir, are pretty well for a lord; but would not be distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts.' a journey to italy was still in his thoughts. he said, 'a man who has not been in italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. the grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the mediterranean. on those shores were the four great empires of the world; the assyrian, the persian, the grecian, and the roman.--all our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the mediterranean.' the general observed, that 'the mediterranean would be a noble subject for a poem.' we talked of translation. i said, i could not define it, nor could i think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to me the translation of poetry could be only imitation. johnson. 'you may translate books of science exactly. you may also translate history, in so far as it is not embellished with oratory, which is poetical. poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language, if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. but as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.' 'goldsmith (he said,) referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and his vices too, were from that motive. he was not a social man. he never exchanged mind with you.' we spent the evening at mr. hoole's. mr. mickle, the excellent translator of the lusiad, was there. i have preserved little of the conversation of this evening. dr. johnson said, 'thomson had a true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light. his fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly peep through. shiels, who compiled cibber's lives of the poets, was one day sitting with me. i took down thomson, and read aloud a large portion of him, and then asked,--is not this fine? shiels having expressed the highest admiration. well, sir, (said i,) i have omitted every other line.' i related a dispute between goldsmith and mr. robert dodsley, one day when they and i were dining at tom davies's, in . goldsmith asserted, that there was no poetry produced in this age. dodsley appealed to his own collection, and maintained, that though you could not find a palace like dryden's ode on st. cecilia's day, you had villages composed of very pretty houses; and he mentioned particularly the spleen. johnson. 'i think dodsley gave up the question. he and goldsmith said the same thing; only he said it in a softer manner than goldsmith did; for he acknowledged that there was no poetry, nothing that towered above the common mark. you may find wit and humour in verse, and yet no poetry. hudibras has a profusion of these; yet it is not to be reckoned a poem. the spleen, in dodsley's collection, on which you say he chiefly rested, is not poetry.' boswell. 'does not gray's poetry, sir, tower above the common mark?' johnson. yes, sir; but we must attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if they would, and what every man may do if he would. sixteen-string jack* towered above the common mark.' boswell. 'then, sir, what is poetry?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is much easier to say what it is not. we all know what light is; but it is not easy to tell what it is.' * a noted highwayman, who after having been several times tried and acquitted, was at last hanged. he was remarkable for foppery in his dress, and particularly for wearing a bunch of sixteen strings at the knees of his breeches. --boswell. on friday, april , i dined with him at our friend tom davies's. he reminded dr. johnson of mr. murphy's having paid him the highest compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story. johnson and i supt this evening at the crown and anchor tavern, in company with sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, mr. nairne, now one of the scotch judges, with the title of lord dunsinan, and my very worthy friend, sir william forbes, of pitsligo. we discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation and benevolence. sir joshua maintained it did. johnson. 'no, sir: before dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. when they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects.' sir joshua said the doctor was talking of the effects of excess in wine; but that a moderate glass enlivened the mind, by giving a proper circulation to the blood. 'i am (said he,) in very good spirits, when i get up in the morning. by dinner-time i am exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when i got up; and i am sure that moderate drinking makes people talk better.' johnson. 'no, sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but tumultuous, noisy, clamorous merriment. i have heard none of those drunken,--nay, drunken is a coarse word,--none of those vinous flights.' sir joshua. 'because you have sat by, quite sober, and felt an envy of the happiness of those who were drinking.' johnson. 'perhaps, contempt.--and, sir, it is not necessary to be drunk one's self, to relish the wit of drunkenness. do we not judge of the drunken wit, of the dialogue between iago and cassio, the most excellent in its kind, when we are quite sober? wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced; and, if good, will appear so at all times. i admit that the spirits are raised by drinking, as by the common participation of any pleasure: cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as drinking does, though surely they will not improve conversation. i also admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten. there are such men, but they are medlars. i indeed allow that there have been a very few men of talents who were improved by drinking; but i maintain that i am right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it be considered, that there is no position, however false in its universality, which is not true of some particular man.' sir william forbes said, 'might not a man warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer, which is made brisker by being set before the fire?'--'nay, (said johnson, laughing,) i cannot answer that: that is too much for me.' i observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming, confusing, and irritating their minds; but that the experience of mankind had declared in favour of moderate drinking. johnson. 'sir, i do not say it is wrong to produce self complacency by drinking; i only deny that it improves the mind. when i drank wine, i scorned to drink it when in company. i have drunk many a bottle by myself; in the first place, because i had need of it to raise my spirits; in the second place, because i would have nobody to witness its effects upon me.' he told us, 'almost all his ramblers were written just as they were wanted for the press; that he sent a certain portion of the copy of an essay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was printing. when it was wanted, and he had fairly sat down to it, he was sure it would be done.' he said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever his immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a man has a science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely advance. he added, 'what we read with inclination makes a much stronger impression. if we read without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what we read.' he told us, he read fielding's amelia through without stopping. he said, 'if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. he may perhaps not feel again the inclination.' soon after this day, he went to bath with mr. and mrs. thrale. i had never seen that beautiful city, and wished to take the opportunity of visiting it, while johnson was there. on the th of april, i went to bath; and on my arrival at the pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from mr. and mrs. thrale, by whom i was agreeably entertained almost constantly during my stay. they were gone to the rooms; but there was a kind note from dr. johnson, that he should sit at home all the evening. i went to him directly, and before mr. and mrs. thrale returned, we had by ourselves some hours of tea-drinking and talk. i shall group together such of his sayings as i preserved during the few days that i was at bath. it having been mentioned, i know not with what truth, that a certain female political writer, whose doctrines he disliked, had of late become very fond of dress, sat hours together at her toilet, and even put on rouge:--johnson. 'she is better employed at her toilet, than using her pen. it is better she should be reddening her own cheeks, than blackening other people's characters.' he would not allow me to praise a lady then at bath; observing, 'she does not gain upon me, sir; i think her empty-headed.' he was, indeed, a stern critick upon characters and manners. even mrs. thrale did not escape his friendly animadversion at times. when he and i were one day endeavouring to ascertain, article by article, how one of our friends could possibly spend as much money in his family as he told us he did, she interrupted us by a lively extravagant sally, on the expence of clothing his children, describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. johnson looked a little angry, and said, 'nay, madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.' at another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'i don't like to fly.' johnson. 'with your wings, madam, you must fly: but have a care, there are clippers abroad.' on monday, april , he and i made an excursion to bristol, where i was entertained with seeing him enquire upon the spot, into the authenticity of 'rowley's poetry,' as i had seen him enquire upon the spot into the authenticity of 'ossian's poetry.' george catcot, the pewterer, who was as zealous for rowley, as dr. hugh blair was for ossian, (i trust my reverend friend will excuse the comparison,) attended us at our inn, and with a triumphant air of lively simplicity called out, 'i'll make dr. johnson a convert.' dr. johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of chatterton's fabricated verses, while catcot stood at the back of his chair, moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet, and now and then looking into dr. johnson's face, wondering that he was not yet convinced. we called on mr. barret, the surgeon, and saw some of the originals as they were called, which were executed very artificially; but from a careful inspection of them, and a consideration of the circumstances with which they were attended, we were quite satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been clearly demonstrated from internal evidence, by several able criticks. honest catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any objections, but insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we should go with him to the tower of the church of st. mary, redcliff, and view with our own eyes the ancient chest in which the manuscripts were found. to this, dr. johnson good-naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a shortness of breathing, laboured up a long flight of steps, till we came to the place where the wonderous chest stood. 'there, (said cateot, with a bouncing confident credulity,) there is the very chest itself.' after this ocular demonstration, there was no more to be said. he brought to my recollection a scotch highlander, a man of learning too, and who had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his reasons for the authenticity of fingal:--'i have heard all that poem when i was young.'--'have you, sir? pray what have you heard?'--'i have heard ossian, oscar, and every one of them.' johnson said of chatterton, 'this is the most extraordinary young man that has encountered my knowledge. it is wonderful how the whelp has written such things.' we were by no means pleased with our inn at bristol. 'let us see now, (said i,) how we should describe it.' johnson was ready with his raillery. 'describe it, sir?--why, it was so bad that boswell wished to be in scotland!' after dr. johnson's return to london, i was several times with him at his house, where i occasionally slept, in the room that had been assigned to me. i dined with him at dr. taylor's, at general oglethorpe's, and at general paoli's. to avoid a tedious minuteness, i shall group together what i have preserved of his conversation during this period also, without specifying each scene where it passed, except one, which will be found so remarkable as certainly to deserve a very particular relation. 'garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of archer in the beaux stratagem well. the gentleman should break out through the footman, which is not the case as he does it.' 'that man is never happy for the present is so true, that all his relief from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for a little while. life is a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment.' 'lord chesterfield's letters to his son, i think, might be made a very pretty book. take out the immorality, and it should be put into the hands of every young gentleman. an elegant manner and easiness of behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. no man can say "i'll be genteel." there are ten genteel women for one genteel man, because they are more restrained. a man without some degree of restraint is insufferable; but we are all less restrained than women. were a woman sitting in company to put out her legs before her as most men do, we should be tempted to kick them in.' no man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those in whose company he happened to be, than johnson; or, however strange it may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its refinements. lord eliot informs me, that one day when johnson and he were at dinner at a gentleman's house in london, upon lord chesterfield's letters being mentioned, johnson surprized the company by this sentence: 'every man of any education would rather be called a rascal, than accused of deficiency in the graces.' mr. gibbon, who was present, turned to a lady who knew johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus: 'don't you think, madam, (looking towards johnson,) that among all your acquaintance, you could find one exception?' the lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce. the uncommon vivacity of general oglethorpe's mind, and variety of knowledge, having sometimes made his conversation seem too desultory, johnson observed, 'oglethorpe, sir, never completes what he has to say.' he on the same account made a similar remark on patrick lord elibank: 'sir, there is nothing conclusive in his talk.' when i complained of having dined at a splendid table without hearing one sentence of conversation worthy of being remembered, he said, 'sir, there seldom is any such conversation.' boswell. 'why then meet at table?' johnson. 'why, to eat and drink together, and to promote kindness; and, sir, this is better done when there is no solid conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get into bad humour, or some of the company who are not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel themselves uneasy. it was for this reason, sir robert walpole said, he always talked bawdy at his table, because in that all could join.' being irritated by hearing a gentleman* ask mr. levett a variety of questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out, 'sir, you have but two topicks, yourself and me. i am sick of both.' 'a man, (said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of any particular person. he should take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore, should avoid having any one topick of which people can say, "we shall hear him upon it." there was a dr. oldfield, who was always talking of the duke of marlborough. he came into a coffee-house one day, and told that his grace had spoken in the house of lords for half an hour. "did he indeed speak for half an hour?" (said belehier, the surgeon,)--"yes."--"and what did he say of dr. oldfield?"--"nothing"--"why then, sir, he was very ungrateful; for dr. oldfield could not have spoken for a quarter of an hour, without saying something of him."' * most likely boswell himself.--hill. i am now to record a very curious incident in dr. johnson's life, which fell under my own observation; of which pars magna fui, and which i am persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit. my desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description, had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to dr. samuel johnson and to john wilkes, esq. two men more different could perhaps not be selected out of all mankind. they had even attacked one another with some asperity in their writings; yet i lived in habits of friendship with both. i could fully relish the excellence of each; for i have ever delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can separate good qualities from evil in the same person. sir john pringle, 'mine own friend and my father's friend,' between whom and dr. johnson i in vain wished to establish an acquaintance, as i respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once, very ingeniously, 'it is not in friendship as in mathematicks, where two things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. you agree with johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle quality; but johnson and i should not agree.' sir john was not sufficiently flexible; so i desisted; knowing, indeed, that the repulsion was equally strong on the part of johnson; who, i know not from what cause, unless his being a scotchman, had formed a very erroneous opinion of sir john. but i conceived an irresistible wish, if possible, to bring dr. johnson and mr. wilkes together. how to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter. my worthy booksellers and friends, messieurs dilly in the poultry, at whose hospitable and well-covered table i have seen a greater number of literary men, than at any other, except that of sir joshua reynolds, had invited me to meet mr. wilkes and some more gentlemen on wednesday, may . 'pray (said i,) let us have dr. johnson.'--'what with mr. wilkes? not for the world, (said mr. edward dilly:) dr. johnson would never forgive me.'--'come, (said i,) if you'll let me negotiate for you, i will be answerable that all shall go well.' dilly. 'nay, if you will take it upon you, i am sure i shall be very happy to see them both here.' notwithstanding the high veneration which i entertained for dr. johnson, i was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of contradiction, and by means of that i hoped i should gain my point. i was persuaded that if i had come upon him with a direct proposal, 'sir, will you dine in company with jack wilkes?' he would have flown into a passion, and would probably have answered, 'dine with jack wilkes, sir! i'd as soon dine with jack ketch.' i therefore, while we were sitting quietly by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open my plan thus:--'mr. dilly, sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on wednesday next along with me, as i must soon go to scotland.' johnson. 'sir, i am obliged to mr. dilly. i will wait upon him--' boswell. 'provided, sir, i suppose, that the company which he is to have, is agreeable to you.' johnson. 'what do you mean, sir? what do you take me for? do you think i am so ignorant of the world as to imagine that i am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?' boswell. 'i beg your pardon, sir, for wishing to prevent you from meeting people whom you might not like. perhaps he may have some of what he calls his patriotick friends with him.' johnson. 'well, sir, and what then? what care i for his patriotick friends? poh!' boswell. 'i should not be surprized to find jack wilkes there.' johnson. 'and if jack wilkes should be there, what is that to me, sir? my dear friend, let us have no more of this. i am sorry to be angry with you; but really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if i could not meet any company whatever, occasionally.' boswell. 'pray forgive me, sir: i meant well. but you shall meet whoever comes, for me.' thus i secured him, and told dilly that he would find him very well pleased to be one of his guests on the day appointed. upon the much-expected wednesday, i called on him about half an hour before dinner, as i often did when we were to dine out together, to see that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. i found him buffeting his books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no preparation for going abroad. 'how is this, sir? (said i.) don't you recollect that you are to dine at mr. dilly's?' johnson. 'sir, i did not think of going to dilly's: it went out of my head. i have ordered dinner at home with mrs. williams.' boswell. 'but, my dear sir, you know you were engaged to mr. dilly, and i told him so. he will expect you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come.' johnson. 'you must talk to mrs. williams about this.' here was a sad dilemma. i feared that what i was so confident i had secured would yet be frustrated. he had accustomed himself to shew mrs. williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some restraint upon him; and i knew that if she should be obstinate, he would not stir. i hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her i was in great uneasiness, for dr. johnson had engaged to me to dine this day at mr. dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. 'yes, sir, (said she, pretty peevishly,) dr. johnson is to dine at home.'--'madam, (said i,) his respect for you is such, that i know he will not leave you unless you absolutely desire it. but as you have so much of his company, i hope you will be good enough to forego it for a day; as mr. dilly is a very worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for dr. johnson, and will be vexed if the doctor neglects him to-day. and then, madam, be pleased to consider my situation; i carried the message, and i assured mr. dilly that dr. johnson was to come, and no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honour he expected to have. i shall be quite disgraced if the doctor is not there.' she gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously pleased to empower me to tell dr. johnson, 'that all things considered, she thought he should certainly go.' i flew back to him, still in dust, and careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to go or stay;' but as soon as i had announced to him mrs. williams' consent, he roared, 'frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon drest. when i had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, i exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for gretna-green. when we entered mr. dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst of a company he did not know. i kept myself snug and silent, watching how he would conduct himself. i observed him whispering to mr. dilly, 'who is that gentleman, sir?'--'mr. arthur lee.'--johnson. 'too, too, too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings. mr. arthur lee could not but be very obnoxious to johnson, for he was not only a patriot but an american. he was afterwards minister from the united states at the court of madrid. 'and who is the gentleman in lace?'--'mr. wilkes, sir.' this information confounded him still more; he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he composed himself. his feelings, i dare say, were aukward enough. but he no doubt recollected his having rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any company, and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet. the cheering sound of 'dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his reverie, and we all sat down without any symptom of ill humour. there were present, beside mr. wilkes, and mr. arthur lee, who was an old companion of mine when he studied physick at edinburgh, mr. (now sir john) miller, dr. lettsom, and mr. slater the druggist. mr. wilkes placed himself next to dr. johnson, and behaved to him with so much attention and politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly. no man eat more heartily than johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate. mr. wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'pray give me leave, sir:--it is better here--a little of the brown--some fat, sir--a little of the stuffing--some gravy--let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter--allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'sir, sir, i am obliged to you, sir,' cried johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him with a look for some time of 'surly virtue,' but, in a short while, of complacency. foote being mentioned, johnson said, 'he is not a good mimick.' one of the company added, 'a merry andrew, a buffoon.' johnson. 'but he has wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up his part. one species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of escape. you drive him into a corner with both hands; but he's gone, sir, when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over your head. then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand between him and a jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. garrick is under many restraints from which foote is free.' wilkes. 'garrick's wit is more like lord chesterfield's.' johnson. 'the first time i was in company with foote was at fitzherbert's. having no good opinion of the fellow, i was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult to please a man against his will. i went on eating my dinner pretty sullenly, affecting not to mind him. but the dog was so very comical, that i was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it out. no, sir, he was irresistible. he upon one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining. amongst the many and various modes which he tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer, and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers amongst his numerous acquaintance. fitzherbert was one who took his small-beer; but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink it. they were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid of offending their master, who they knew liked foote much as a companion. at last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and having invested him with the whole authority of the kitchen, he was to inform mr. fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that they would drink foote's small-beer no longer. on that day foote happened to dine at fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was so delighted with foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when he went down stairs, he told them, "this is the finest man i have ever seen. i will not deliver your message. i will drink his small-beer."' somebody observed that garrick could not have done this. wilkes. 'garrick would have made the small-beer still smaller. he is now leaving the stage; but he will play scrub all his life.' i knew that johnson would let nobody attack garrick but himself, as garrick once said to me, and i had heard him praise his liberality; so to bring out his commendation of his celebrated pupil, i said, loudly, 'i have heard garrick is liberal.' johnson. 'yes, sir, i know that garrick has given away more money than any man in england that i am acquainted with, and that not from ostentatious views. garrick was very poor when he began life; so when he came to have money, he probably was very unskilful in giving away, and saved when he should not. but garrick began to be liberal as soon as he could; and i am of opinion, the reputation of avarice which he has had, has been very lucky for him, and prevented his having many enemies. you despise a man for avarice, but do not hate him. garrick might have been much better attacked for living with more splendour than is suitable to a player: if they had had the wit to have assaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him more. but they have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has rescued him from much obloquy and envy.' talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information for biography, johnson told us, 'when i was a young fellow i wanted to write the life of dryden, and in order to get materials, i applied to the only two persons then alive who had seen him; these were old swinney, and old cibber. swinney's information was no more than this, "that at will's coffee-house dryden had a particular chair for himself, which was set by the fire in winter, and was then called his winter-chair; and that it was carried out for him to the balcony in summer, and was then called his summer-chair." cibber could tell no more but "that he remembered him a decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at will's." you are to consider that cibber was then at a great distance from dryden, had perhaps one leg only in the room, and durst not draw in the other.' boswell. 'yet cibber was a man of observation?' johnson. 'i think not.' boswell. 'you will allow his apology to be well done.' johnson. 'very well done, to be sure, sir. that book is a striking proof of the justice of pope's remark: "each might his several province well command, would all but stoop to what they understand."' boswell. 'and his plays are good.' johnson. 'yes; but that was his trade; l'esprit du corps: he had been all his life among players and play-writers. i wondered that he had so little to say in conversation, for he had kept the best company, and learnt all that can be got by the ear. he abused pindar to me, and then shewed me an ode of his own, with an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's wing. i told him that when the ancients made a simile, they always made it like something real.' mr. wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of shakspeare's imagination, the boldest was making birnamwood march to dunsinane; creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in scotland! ha! ha! ha!' and he also observed, that 'the clannish slavery of the highlands of scotland was the single exception to milton's remark of "the mountain nymph, sweet liberty," being worshipped in all hilly countries.'--'when i was at inverary (said he,) on a visit to my old friend, archibald, duke of argyle, his dependents congratulated me on being such a favourite of his grace. i said, "it is then, gentlemen, truely lucky for me; for if i had displeased the duke, and he had wished it, there is not a campbell among you but would have been ready to bring john wilkes's head to him in a charger. it would have been only, 'off with his head! so much for aylesbury.'" i was then member for aylesbury.' mr. arthur lee mentioned some scotch who had taken possession of a barren part of america, and wondered why they should choose it. johnson. 'why, sir, all barrenness is comparative. the scotch would not know it to be barren.' boswell. 'come, come, he is flattering the english. you have now been in scotland, sir, and say if you did not see meat and drink enough there.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; meat and drink enough to give the enhabitants sufficient strength to run away from home.' all these quick and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in jest, and with a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. upon this topick he and mr. wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was a bond of union between them, and i was conscious that as both of them had visited caledonia, both were fully satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of those who imagine that it is a land of famine. but they amused themselves with persevering in the old jokes. when i claimed a superiority for scotland over england in one respect, that no man can be arrested there for a debt merely because another swears it against him; but there must first be the judgement of a court of law ascertaining its justice; and that a seizure of the person, before judgement is obtained, can take place only, if his creditor should swear that he is about to fly from the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is in meditatione fugoe: wilkes. 'that, i should think, may be safely sworn of all the scotch nation.' johnson. (to mr. wilkes,) 'you must know, sir, i lately took my friend boswell and shewed him genuine civilised life in an english provincial town. i turned him loose at lichfield, my native city, that he might see for once real civility: for you know he lives among savages in scotland, and among rakes in london.' wilkes. 'except when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you and me.' johnson. (smiling,) 'and we ashamed of him.' they were quite frank and easy. johnson told the story of his asking mrs. macaulay to allow her footman to sit down with them, to prove the ridiculousness of the argument for the equality of mankind; and he said to me afterwards, with a nod of satisfaction, 'you saw mr. wilkes acquiesced.' wilkes talked with all imaginable freedom of the ludicrous title given to the attorney-general, diabolus regis; adding, 'i have reason to know something about that officer; for i was prosecuted for a libel.' johnson, who many people would have supposed must have been furiously angry at hearing this talked of so lightly, said not a word. he was now, indeed, 'a good-humoured fellow.' after dinner we had an accession of mrs. knowles, the quaker lady, well known for her various talents, and of mr. alderman lee. amidst some patriotick groans, somebody (i think the alderman) said, 'poor old england is lost.' johnson. 'sir, it is not so much to be lamented that old england is lost, as that the scotch have found it.' wilkes. 'had lord bute governed scotland only, i should not have taken the trouble to write his eulogy, and dedicate mortimer to him.' mr. wilkes held a candle to shew a fine print of a beautiful female figure which hung in the room, and pointed out the elegant contour of the bosom with the finger of an arch connoisseur. he afterwards, in a conversation with me, waggishly insisted, that all the time johnson shewed visible signs of a fervent admiration of the corresponding charms of the fair quaker. this record, though by no means so perfect as i could wish, will serve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of reconciling any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which in the various bustle of political contest, had been produced in the minds of two men, who though widely different, had so many things in common--classical learning, modern literature, wit, and humour, and ready repartee--that it would have been much to be regretted if they had been for ever at a distance from each other. mr. burke gave me much credit for this successful negociation; and pleasantly said, that 'there was nothing to equal it in the whole history of the corps diplomatique.' i attended dr. johnson home, and had the satisfaction to hear him tell mrs. williams how much he had been pleased with mr. wilkes's company, and what an agreeable day he had passed. i talked a good deal to him of the celebrated margaret caroline rudd, whom i had visited, induced by the fame of her talents, address, and irresistible power of fascination. to a lady who disapproved of my visiting her, he said on a former occasion, 'nay, madam, boswell is in the right; i should have visited her myself, were it not that they have now a trick of putting every thing into the news-papers.' this evening he exclaimed, 'i envy him his acquaintance with mrs. rudd.' on the evening of the next day i took leave of him, being to set out for scotland. i thanked him with great warmth for all his kindness. 'sir, (said he,) you are very welcome. nobody repays it with more. the following letters concerning an epitaph which he wrote for the monument of dr. goldsmith, in westminster-abbey, afford at once a proof of his unaffected modesty, his carelessness as to his own writings, and of the great respect which he entertained for the taste and judgement of the excellent and eminent person to whom they are addressed: to sir joshua reynolds. dear sir,--i have been kept away from you, i know not well how, and of these vexatious hindrances i know not when there will be an end. i therefore send you the poor dear doctor's epitaph. read it first yourself; and if you then think it right, shew it to the club. i am, you know, willing to be corrected. if you think any thing much amiss, keep it to yourself, till we come together. i have sent two copies, but prefer the card. the dates must be settled by dr. percy. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' it was, i think, after i had left london this year, that this epitaph gave occasion to a remonstrance to the monarch of literature, for an account of which i am indebted to sir william forbes, of pitsligo. that my readers may have the subject more fully and clearly before them, i shall first insert the epitaph. olivarii goldsmith, poetae, physici, historici, qui nullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, nullum quod tetiqit non ornavit: sive risus essent movendi, sive lacrymae, affectuum potens at lenis dominator: ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus: hoc monumento memoriam coluit sodalium amor, amicorum fides, lectorum veneratio. natus in hibernia forniae longfordiensis, in loco cui nomen pallas, nov. xxix. mdccxxxi; eblanae literis institutus; obiit londini, april iv, mdcclxxiv.' sir william forbes writes to me thus:-- 'i enclose the round robin. this jeu d'esprit took its rise one day at dinner at our friend sir joshua reynolds's. all the company present, except myself, were friends and acquaintance of dr. goldsmith. the epitaph, written for him by dr. johnson, became the subject of conversation, and various emendations were suggested, which it was agreed should be submitted to the doctor's consideration. but the question was, who should have the courage to propose them to him? at last it was hinted, that there could be no way so good as that of a round robin, as the sailors call it, which they make use of when they enter into a conspiracy, so as not to let it be known who puts his name first or last to the paper. this proposition was instantly assented to; and dr. barnard, dean of derry, now bishop of killaloe, drew up an address to dr. johnson on the occasion, replete with wit and humour, but which it was feared the doctor might think treated the subject with too much levity. mr. burke then proposed the address as it stands in the paper in writing, to which i had the honour to officiate as clerk. 'sir joshua agreed to carry it to dr. johnson, who received it with much good humour,* and desired sir joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of it; but he would never consent to disgrace the walls of westminster abbey with an english inscription. * he however, upon seeing dr. warton's name to the suggestion, that the epitaph should be in english, observed to sir joshua, 'i wonder that joe warton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool.' he said too, 'i should have thought mund burke would have had more sense.' mr. langton, who was one of the company at sir joshua's, like a sturdy scholar, resolutely refused to sign the round robin. the epitaph is engraved upon dr. goldsmith's monument without any alteration. at another time, when somebody endeavoured to argue in favour of its being in english, johnson said, 'the language of the country of which a learned man was a native, is not the language fit for his epitaph, which should be in ancient and permanent language. consider, sir; how you should feel, were you to find at rotterdam an epitaph upon erasmus in dutch!'--boswell. 'i consider this round robin as a species of literary curiosity worth preserving, as it marks, in a certain degree, dr. johnson's character.' sir william forbes's observation is very just. the anecdote now related proves, in the strongest manner, the reverence and awe with which johnson was regarded, by some of the most eminent men of his time, in various departments, and even by such of them as lived most with him; while it also confirms what i have again and again inculcated, that he was by no means of that ferocious and irascible character which has been ignorantly imagined. this hasty composition is also to be remarked as one of a thousand instances which evince the extraordinary promptitude of mr. burke; who while he is equal to the greatest things, can adorn the least; can, with equal facility, embrace the vast and complicated speculations of politicks, or the ingenious topicks of literary investigation. 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'madam,--you must not think me uncivil in omitting to answer the letter with which you favoured me some time ago. i imagined it to have been written without mr. boswell's knowledge, and therefore supposed the answer to require, what i could not find, a private conveyance. 'the difference with lord auchinleck is now over; and since young alexander has appeared, i hope no more difficulties will arise among you; for i sincerely wish you all happy. do not teach the young ones to dislike me, as you dislike me yourself; but let me at least have veronica's kindness, because she is my acquaintance. 'you will now have mr. boswell home; it is well that you have him; he has led a wild life. i have taken him to lichfield, and he has followed mr. thrale to bath. pray take care of him, and tame him. the only thing in which i have the honour to agree with you is, in loving him; and while we are so much of a mind in a matter of so much importance, our other quarrels will, i hope, produce no great bitterness. i am, madam, your most humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' i select from his private register the following passage: 'july , . o god, who hast ordained that whatever is to be desired should be sought by labour, and who, by thy blessing, bringest honest labour to good effect, look with mercy upon my studies and endeavours. grant me, o lord, to design only what is lawful and right; and afford me calmness of mind, and steadiness of purpose, that i may so do thy will in this short life, as to obtain happiness in the world to come, for the sake of jesus christ our lord. amen.' it appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed when he 'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particularly of the greek and italian tongues.' such a purpose, so expressed, at the age of sixty-seven, is admirable and encouraging; and it must impress all the thinking part of my readers with a consolatory confidence in habitual devotion, when they see a man of such enlarged intellectual powers as johnson, thus in the genuine earnestness of secrecy, imploring the aid of that supreme being, 'from whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift.' : aetat. .]--in , it appears from his prayers and meditations, that johnson suffered much from a state of mind 'unsettled and perplexed,' and from that constitutional gloom, which, together with his extreme humility and anxiety with regard to his religious state, made him contemplate himself through too dark and unfavourable a medium. it may be said of him, that he 'saw god in clouds.' certain we may be of his injustice to himself in the following lamentable paragraph, which it is painful to think came from the contrite heart of this great man, to whose labours the world is so much indebted: 'when i survey my past life, i discover nothing but a barren waste of time with some disorders of body, and disturbances of the mind, very near to madness, which i hope he that made me will suffer to extenuate many faults, and excuse many deficiencies.' but we find his devotions in this year eminently fervent; and we are comforted by observing intervals of quiet, composure, and gladness. on easter-day we find the following emphatick prayer: 'almighty and most merciful father, who seest all our miseries, and knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, and pity me. defend me from the violent incursion [incursions] of evil thoughts, and enable me to form and keep such resolutions as may conduce to the discharge of the duties which thy providence shall appoint me; and so help me, by thy holy spirit, that my heart may surely there be fixed, where true joys are to be found, and that i may serve thee with pure affection and a cheerful mind. have mercy upon me, o god, have mercy upon me; years and infirmities oppress me, terrour and anxiety beset me. have mercy upon me, my creator and my judge. [in all dangers protect me.] in all perplexities relieve and free me; and so help me by thy holy spirit, that i may now so commemorate the death of thy son our saviour jesus christ, as that when this short and painful life shall have an end, i may, for his sake, be received to everlasting happiness. amen.' 'sir alexander dick to dr. samuel johnson. 'prestonfield, feb. , . 'sir, i had yesterday the honour of receiving your book of your journey to the western islands of scotland, which you was so good as to send me, by the hands of our mutual friend, mr. boswell, of auchinleck; for which i return you my most hearty thanks; and after carefully reading it over again, shall deposit in my little collection of choice books, next our worthy friend's journey to corsica. as there are many things to admire in both performances, i have often wished that no travels or journeys should be published but those undertaken by persons of integrity and capacity to judge well, and describe faithfully, and in good language, the situation, condition, and manners of the countries past through. indeed our country of scotland, in spite of the union of the crowns, is still in most places so devoid of clothing, or cover from hedges and plantations, that it was well you gave your readers a sound monitoire with respect to that circumstance. the truths you have told, and the purity of the language in which they are expressed, as your journey is universally read, may, and already appear to have a very good effect. for a man of my acquaintance, who has the largest nursery for trees and hedges in this country, tells me, that of late the demand upon him for these articles is doubled, and sometimes tripled. i have, therefore, listed dr. samuel johnson in some of my memorandums of the principal planters and favourers of the enclosures, under a name which i took the liberty to invent from the greek, papadendrion. lord auchinleck and some few more are of the list. i am told that one gentleman in the shire of aberdeen, viz. sir archibald grant, has planted above fifty millions of trees on a piece of very wild ground at monimusk: i must enquire if he has fenced them well, before he enters my list; for, that is the soul of enclosing. i began myself to plant a little, our ground being too valuable for much, and that is now fifty years ago; and the trees, now in my seventy-fourth year, i look up to with reverence, and shew them to my eldest son now in his fifteenth year, and they are full the height of my country-house here, where i had the pleasure of receiving you, and hope again to have that satisfaction with our mutual friend, mr. boswell. i shall always continue, with the truest esteem, dear doctor, your much obliged, and obedient humble servant, 'alexander dick.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--it is so long since i heard any thing from you, that i am not easy about it; write something to me next post. when you sent your last letter, every thing seemed to be mending; i hope nothing has lately grown worse. i suppose young alexander continues to thrive, and veronica is now very pretty company. i do not suppose the lady is yet reconciled to me, yet let her know that i love her very well, and value her very much. . . . 'poor beauclerk still continues very ill. langton lives on as he used to do. his children are very pretty, and, i think, his lady loses her scotch. paoli i never see. 'i have been so distressed by difficulty of breathing, that i lost, as was computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood in a few days. i am better, but not well. . . . 'mrs. williams sends her compliments, and promises that when you come hither, she will accommodate you as well as ever she can in the old room. she wishes to know whether you sent her book to sir alexander gordon. 'my dear boswell, do not neglect to write to me; for your kindness is one of the pleasures of my life, which i should be sorry to lose. i am, sir, your humble servant, 'february , .' 'sam. johnson.' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'glasgow, april , . 'my dear sir, . . . my wife has made marmalade of oranges for you. i left her and my daughters and alexander all well yesterday. i have taught veronica to speak of you thus;--dr. johnson, not johnston. i remain, my dear sir, your most affectionate, and obliged humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, . . . tell mrs. boswell that i shall taste her marmalade cautiously at first. timeo danaos et dona ferentes. beware, says the italian proverb, of a reconciled enemy. but when i find it does me no harm, i shall then receive it and be thankful for it, as a pledge of firm, and, i hope, of unalterable kindness. she is, after all, a dear, dear lady. . . . 'i am, dear sir, your most affectionate humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'southill, sept. , . 'dear sir, you will find by this letter, that i am still in the same calm retreat, from the noise and bustle of london, as when i wrote to you last. i am happy to find you had such an agreeable meeting with your old friend dr. johnson; i have no doubt your stock is much increased by the interview; few men, nay i may say, scarcely any man, has got that fund of knowledge and entertainment as dr. johnson in conversation. when he opens freely, every one is attentive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement as well as pleasure. 'the edition of the poets, now printing, will do honour to the english press; and a concise account of the life of each authour, by dr. johnson, will be a very valuable addition, and stamp the reputation of this edition superiour to any thing that is gone before. the first cause that gave rise to this undertaking, i believe, was owing to the little trifling edition of the poets, printing by the martins, at edinburgh, and to be sold by bell, in london. upon examining the volumes which were printed, the type was found so extremely small, that many persons could not read them; not only this inconvenience attended it, but the inaccuracy of the press was very conspicuous. these reasons, as well as the idea of an invasion of what we call our literary property, induced the london booksellers to print an elegant and accurate edition of all the english poets of reputation, from chaucer to the present time. 'accordingly a select number of the most respectable booksellers met on the occasion; and, on consulting together, agreed, that all the proprietors of copy-right in the various poets should be summoned together; and when their opinions were given, to proceed immediately on the business. accordingly a meeting was held, consisting of about forty of the most respectable booksellers of london, when it was agreed that an elegant and uniform edition of the english poets should be immediately printed, with a concise account of the life of each authour, by dr. samuel johnson; and that three persons should be deputed to wait upon dr. johnson, to solicit him to undertake the lives, viz., t. davies, strahan, and cadell. the doctor very politely undertook it, and seemed exceedingly pleased with the proposal. as to the terms, it was left entirely to the doctor to name his own: he mentioned two hundred guineas:* it was immediately agreed to; and a farther compliment, i believe, will be made him. a committee was likewise appointed to engage the best engravers, viz., bartolozzi, sherwin, hall, etc. likewise another committee for giving directions about the paper, printing, etc., so that the whole will be conducted with spirit, and in the best manner, with respect to authourship, editorship, engravings, etc., etc. my brother will give you a list of the poets we mean to give, many of which are within the time of the act of queen anne, which martin and bell cannot give, as they have no property in them; the proprietors are almost all the booksellers in london, of consequence. i am, dear sir, ever your's, 'edward dilly.' * johnson's moderation in demanding so small a sum is extraordinary. had he asked one thousand, or even fifteen hundred guineas, the booksellers, who knew the value of his name, would doubtless have readily given it. they have probably got five thousand guineas by this work in the course of twenty-five years.--malone. a circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing to johnson occurred this year. the tragedy of sir thomas overbury, written by his early companion in london, richard savage, was brought out with alterations at drury-lane theatre. the prologue to it was written by mr. richard brinsley sheridan; in which, after describing very pathetically the wretchedness of 'ill-fated savage, at whose birth was giv'n no parent but the muse, no friend but heav'n:' he introduced an elegant compliment to johnson on his dictionary, that wonderful performance which cannot be too often or too highly praised; of which mr. harris, in his philological inquiries, justly and liberally observes: 'such is its merit, that our language does not possess a more copious, learned, and valuable work.' the concluding lines of this prologue were these:-- 'so pleads the tale that gives to future times the son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes; there shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive, fix'd by the hand that bids our language live.' mr. sheridan here at once did honour to his taste and to his liberality of sentiment, by shewing that he was not prejudiced from the unlucky difference which had taken place between his worthy father and dr. johnson. i have already mentioned, that johnson was very desirous of reconciliation with old mr. sheridan. it will, therefore, not seem at all surprizing that he was zealous in acknowledging the brilliant merit of his son. while it had as yet been displayed only in the drama, johnson proposed him as a member of the literary club, observing, that 'he who has written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a considerable man.' and he had, accordingly, the honour to be elected; for an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed to be, when it is considered of whom that society consists, and that a single black ball excludes a candidate. on the rd of june, i again wrote to dr. johnson, enclosing a ship-master's receipt for a jar of orange-marmalade, and a large packet of lord hailes's annals of scotland. 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'madam,--though i am well enough pleased with the taste of sweetmeats, very little of the pleasure which i received at the arrival of your jar of marmalade arose from eating it. i received it as a token of friendship, as a proof of reconciliation, things much sweeter than sweetmeats, and upon this consideration i return you, dear madam, my sincerest thanks. by having your kindness i think i have a double security for the continuance of mr. boswell's, which it is not to be expected that any man can long keep, when the influence of a lady so highly and so justly valued operates against him. mr. boswell will tell you that i was always faithful to your interest, and always endeavoured to exalt you in his estimation. you must now do the same for me. we must all help one another, and you must now consider me, as, dear madam, your most obliged, and most humble servant, 'july , .' 'sam. johnson.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--i am this day come to ashbourne, and have only to tell you, that dr. taylor says you shall be welcome to him, and you know how welcome you will be to me. make haste to let me know when you may be expected. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, and tell her, i hope we shall be at variance no more. i am, dear sir, your most humble servant, 'august , .' 'sam. johnson.' on sunday evening, sept. , i arrived at ashbourne, and drove directly up to dr. taylor's door. dr. johnson and he appeared before i had got out of the post-chaise, and welcomed me cordially. i told them that i had travelled all the preceding night, and gone to bed at leek in staffordshire; and that when i rose to go to church in the afternoon, i was informed there had been an earthquake, of which, it seems, the shock had been felt in some degree at ashbourne. johnson. 'sir it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the first place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the objects; nor, secondly, do they accurately adapt their words to their thoughts: they do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact, they give you very false accounts. a great part of their language is proverbial. if anything rocks at all, they say it rocks like a cradle; and in this way they go on. the subject of grief for the loss of relations and friends being introduced, i observed that it was strange to consider how soon it in general wears away. dr. taylor mentioned a gentleman of the neighbourhood as the only instance he had ever known of a person who had endeavoured to retain grief. he told dr. taylor, that after his lady's death, which affected him deeply, he resolved that the grief, which he cherished with a kind of sacred fondness, should be lasting; but that he found he could not keep it long. johnson. 'all grief for what cannot in the course of nature be helped, soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed, in some later; but it never continues very long, unless where there is madness, such as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, as to imagine himself a king; or any other passion in an unreasonable way: for all unnecessary grief is unwise, and therefore will not be long retained by a sound mind. if, indeed, the cause of our grief is occasioned by our own misconduct, if grief is mingled with remorse of conscience, it should be lasting.' boswell. 'but, sir, we do not approve of a man who very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a friend.' johnson. 'sir, we disapprove of him, not because he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner it is forgotten the better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets his wife or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them.' i was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition of the english poets, for which he was to write prefaces and lives, was not an undertaking directed by him: but that he was to furnish a preface and life to any poet the booksellers pleased. i asked him if he would do this to any dunce's works, if they should ask him. johnson. 'yes, sir, and say he was a dunce.' my friend seemed now not much to relish talking of this edition. after breakfast,* johnson carried me to see the garden belonging to the school of ashbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank, rising gradually behind the house. the reverend mr. langley, the head-master, accompanied us. * next morning.--ed. we had with us at dinner several of dr. taylor's neighbours, good civil gentlemen, who seemed to understand dr. johnson very well, and not to consider him in the light that a certain person did, who being struck, or rather stunned by his voice and manner, when he was afterwards asked what he thought of him, answered. 'he's a tremendous companion.' johnson told me, that 'taylor was a very sensible acute man, and had a strong mind; that he had great activity in some respects, and yet such a sort of indolence, that if you should put a pebble upon his chimney-piece, you would find it there, in the same state, a year afterwards.' and here is the proper place to give an account of johnson's humane and zealous interference in behalf of the reverend dr. william dodd, formerly prebendary of brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to his majesty; celebrated as a very popular preacher, an encourager of charitable institutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly theological. having unhappily contracted expensive habits of living, partly occasioned by licentiousness of manners, he in an evil hour, when pressed by want of money, and dreading an exposure of his circumstances, forged a bond of which he attempted to avail himself to support his credit, flattering himself with hopes that he might be able to repay its amount without being detected. the person, whose name he thus rashly and criminally presumed to falsify, was the earl of chesterfield, to whom he had been tutor, and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings, flattered himself would have generously paid the money in case of an alarm being taken, rather than suffer him to fall a victim to the dreadful consequences of violating the law against forgery, the most dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfortunate divine had the mortification to find that he was mistaken. his noble pupil appeared against him, and he was capitally convicted. johnson told me that dr. dodd was very little acquainted with him, having been but once in his company, many years previous to this period (which was precisely the state of my own acquaintance with dodd); but in his distress he bethought himself of johnson's persuasive power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for him the royal mercy. he did not apply to him directly, but, extraordinary as it may seem, through the late countess of harrington, who wrote a letter to johnson, asking him to employ his pen in favour of dodd. mr. allen, the printer, who was johnson's landlord and next neighbour in bolt-court, and for whom he had much kindness, was one of dodd's friends, of whom to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not desert him, even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to the state of a man under sentence of death. mr. allen told me that he carried lady harrington's letter to johnson, that johnson read it walking up and down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after which he said, 'i will do what i can;'--and certainly he did make extraordinary exertions. he this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of his letters, put into my hands the whole series of his writings upon this melancholy occasion. dr. johnson wrote in the first place, dr. dodd's speech to the recorder of london, at the old-bailey, when sentence of death was about to be pronounced upon him. he wrote also the convict's address to his unhappy brethren, a sermon delivered by dr. dodd, in the chapel of newgate. the other pieces mentioned by johnson in the above-mentioned collection, are two letters, one to the lord chancellor bathurst, (not lord north, as is erroneously supposed,) and one to lord mansfield;--a petition from dr. dodd to the king;--a petition from mrs. dodd to the queen;--observations of some length inserted in the news-papers, on occasion of earl percy's having presented to his majesty a petition for mercy to dodd, signed by twenty thousand people, but all in vain. he told me that he had also written a petition from the city of london; 'but (said he, with a significant smile) they mended it.' the last of these articles which johnson wrote is dr. dodd's last solemn declaration, which he left with the sheriff at the place of execution. i found a letter to dr. johnson from dr. dodd, may , , in which the convict's address seems clearly to be meant. 'i am so penetrated, my ever dear sir, with a sense of your extreme benevolence towards me, that i cannot find words equal to the sentiments of my heart. . . .' on sunday, june , he writes, begging dr. johnson's assistance in framing a supplicatory letter to his majesty. this letter was brought to dr. johnson when in church. he stooped down and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for dr. dodd to the king: 'sir,--may it not offend your majesty, that the most miserable of men applies himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last refuge; that your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom your laws and judges have condemned to the horrour and ignominy of a publick execution. . . .' subjoined to it was written as follows:-- 'to dr. dodd. 'sir,--i most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all known that i have written this letter, and to return the copy to mr. allen in a cover to me. i hope i need not tell you, that i wish it success.--but do not indulge hope.--tell nobody.' it happened luckily that mr. allen was pitched on to assist in this melancholy office, for he was a great friend of mr. akerman, the keeper of newgate. dr. johnson never went to see dr. dodd. he said to me, 'it would have done him more harm, than good to dodd, who once expressed a desire to see him, but not earnestly.' all applications for the royal mercy having failed, dr. dodd prepared himself for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to dr. johnson as follows:-- 'june , midnight. 'accept, thou great and good heart, my earnest and fervent thanks and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts in my behalf--oh! dr. johnson! as i sought your knowledge at an early hour in life, would to heaven i had cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a man!--i pray god most sincerely to bless you with the highest transports--the infelt satisfaction of humane and benevolent exertions!--and admitted, as i trust i shall be, to the realms of bliss before you, i shall hail your arrival there with transports, and rejoice to acknowledge that you was my comforter, my advocate and my friend! god be ever with you!' dr. johnson lastly wrote to dr. dodd this solemn and soothing letter:-- 'to the reverend dr. dodd. 'dear sir,--that which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you. outward circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below the notice of an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the supreme judge of heaven and earth. be comforted: your crime, morally or religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude. it corrupted no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. it involved only a temporary and reparable injury. of this, and of all other sins, you are earnestly to repent; and may god, who knoweth our frailty, and desireth not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his son jesus christ our lord. 'in requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions one petition for my eternal welfare. i am, dear sir, your affectionate servant, 'june , .' 'sam. johnson.' under the copy of this letter i found written, in johnson's own hand, 'next day, june , he was executed.' tuesday, september , dr. johnson having mentioned to me the extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by dr. taylor, i rode out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been offered a hundred and thirty. taylor thus described to me his old schoolfellow and friend, johnson: 'he is a man of a very clear head, great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no disputing with him. he will not hear you, and having a louder voice than you, must roar you down.' in the evening, the reverend mr. seward, of lichfield, who was passing through ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. johnson described him thus:--'sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he goes to buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen to him. and, sir, he is a valetudinarian, one of those who are always mending themselves. i do not know a more disagreeable character than a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: sir, he brings himself to the state of a hog in a stye.' dr. taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's interval. dr. johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick, disapproved much of periodical bleeding. 'for (said he,) you accustom yourself to an evacuation which nature cannot perform of herself, and therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. you may accustom yourself to other periodical evacuations, because should you omit them, nature can supply the omission; but nature cannot open a vein to blood you.'--'i do not like to take an emetick, (said taylor,) for fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'poh! (said johnson,) if you have so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. you will break no small vessels:' (blowing with high derision.) the horrour of death which i had always observed in dr. johnson, appeared strong to-night. i ventured to tell him, that i had been, for moments in my life, not afraid of death; therefore i could suppose another man in that state of mind for a considerable space of time. he said, 'he never had a moment in which death was not terrible to him.' he added, that it had been observed, that scarce any man dies in publick, but with apparent resolution; from that desire of praise which never quits us. i said, dr. dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 'sir, (said he,) dr. dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to have lived. the better a man is, the more afraid he is of death, having a clearer view of infinite purity.' he owned, that our being in an unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'ah! we must wait till we are in another state of being, to have many things explained to us.' even the powerful mind of johnson seemed foiled by futurity. on wednesday, september , dr. butter, physician at derby, drank tea with us; and it was settled that dr. johnson and i should go on friday and dine with him. johnson said, 'i'm glad of this.' he seemed weary of the uniformity of life at dr. taylor's. talking of biography, i said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his character. johnson. 'sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned that addison and parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth.' here was an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when lord hailes and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at edinburgh, i well remember that dr. johnson maintained, that 'if a man is to write a panegyrick, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to write a life, he must represent it really as it was:' and when i objected to the danger of telling that parnell drank to excess, he said, that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was seen, that even the learning and genius of parnell could be debased by it.' and in the hebrides he maintained, as appears from my journal, that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if he writes his life. thursday, september . last night dr. johnson had proposed that the crystal lustre, or chandelier, in dr. taylor's large room, should be lighted up some time or other. taylor said, it should be lighted up next night. 'that will do very well, (said i,) for it is dr. johnson's birth-day.' when we were in the isle of sky, johnson had desired me not to mention his birth-day. he did not seem pleased at this time that i mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly,) 'he would not have the lustre lighted the next day.' some ladies, who had been present yesterday when i mentioned his birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by wishing him joy. i know not why he disliked having his birth-day mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer to death, of which he had a constant dread. i mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'sir, (said johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different turn.' he observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a bad style of poetry of late. 'he puts (said he,) a very common thing in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other people do not know it.' boswell. 'that is owing to his being so much versant in old english poetry.' johnson. 'what is that to the purpose, sir? if i say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not mended. no, sir, ------ has taken to an odd mode. for example, he'd write thus: "hermit hoar, in solemn cell, wearing out life's evening gray." gray evening is common enough; but evening gray he'd think fine.--stay;--we'll make out the stanza: "hermit hoar, in solemn cell, wearing out life's evening gray; smite thy bosom, sage, and tell, what is bliss? and which the way?"' boswell. 'but why smite his bosom, sir?' johnson. 'why, to shew he was in earnest,' (smiling.)--he at an after period added the following stanza: 'thus i spoke; and speaking sigh'd; --scarce repress'd the starting tear;-- when the smiling sage reply'd-- --come, my lad, and drink some beer.' i cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as also the three first lines of the second. its last line is an excellent burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. and, perhaps, the advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied being:--'don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and be merry.' friday, september , after breakfast dr. johnson and i set out in dr. taylor's chaise to go to derby. the day was fine, and we resolved to go by keddlestone, the seat of lord scarsdale, that i might see his lordship's fine house. i was struck with the magnificence of the building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. the number of old oaks, of an immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one of them sixty pounds was offered. the excellent smooth gravel roads; the large piece of water formed by his lordship from some small brooks, with a handsome barge upon it; the venerable gothick church, now the family chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'one should think (said i,) that the proprietor of all this must be happy.'--'nay, sir, (said johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty.' our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which i need not describe, as there is an account of it published in adam's works in architecture. dr. johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before; for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'it would do excellently for a town-hall. the large room with the pillars (said he,) would do for the judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.' still he thought the large room ill lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it cost was injudiciously laid out. dr. taylor had put him in mind of his appearing pleased with the house. 'but (said he,) that was when lord scarsdale was present. politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a man's works when he is present. no man will be so ill bred as to question you. you may therefore pay compliments without saying what is not true. i should say to lord scarsdale of his large room, "my lord, this is the most costly room that i ever saw;" which is true.' dr. manningham, physician in london, who was visiting at lord scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon afterwards my lord himself, to whom dr. johnson was known, appeared, and did the honours of the house. we talked of mr. langton. johnson, with a warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'the earth does not bear a worthier man than bennet langton.' we saw a good many fine pictures, which i think are described in one of young's tours. there is a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my hand; i should like to view them at leisure. i was much struck with daniel interpreting nebuchadnezzar's dream by rembrandt. we were shown a pretty large library. in his lordship's dressing-room lay johnson's small dictionary: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying, 'look'ye! quae terra nostri non plena laboris.' he observed, also, goldsmith's animated nature; and said, 'here's our friend! the poor doctor would have been happy to hear of this.' in our way, johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a post-chaise. 'if (said he,) i had no duties, and no reference to futurity, i would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would add something to the conversation.' i observed, that we were this day to stop just where the highland army did in . johnson. 'it was a noble attempt.' boswell. 'i wish we could have an authentick history of it.' johnson. 'if you were not an idle dog you might write it, by collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your authorities.' boswell. 'but i could not have the advantage of it in my life-time.' johnson. 'you might have the satisfaction of its fame, by printing it in holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was before writing came to be considered in a pecuniary view. baretti says, he is the first man that ever received copy-money in italy.' i said that i would endeavour to do what dr. johnson suggested and i thought that i might write so as to venture to publish my history of the civil war in great-britain in and , without being obliged to go to a foreign press. when we arrived at derby, dr. butter accompanied us to see the manufactory of china there. i admired the ingenuity and delicate art with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot, while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. i thought this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in its species. yet i had no respect for this potter. neither, indeed, has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. the china was beautiful, but dr. johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he could have vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were here made of porcelain. i felt a pleasure in walking about derby such as i always have in walking about any town to which i am not accustomed. there is an immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. the minute diversities in every thing are wonderful. talking of shaving the other night at dr. taylor's, dr. johnson said, 'sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' i thought this not possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long or short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the under;--at the right side or the left side. indeed, when one considers what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of difference there may be in the application of a razor. we dined with dr. butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin sir john douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of queensberry. johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation. johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of dr. nichols's discourse de animia medica. he told us 'that whatever a man's distemper was, dr. nichols would not attend him as a physician, if his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have any influence. he once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? she said no. he continued his attendance some time, still without success. at length the man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs were in a bad way. when goldsmith was dying, dr. turton said to him, "your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" goldsmith answered it was not.' dr. johnson told us at tea, that when some of dr. dodd's pious friends were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant:--'no, no, (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' johnson added, 'i respect dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness. he told us, that dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape. he added, that he knew a friend of dodd's, who walked about newgate for some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much circumspection. he said, dodd's friends had an image of him made of wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was carried into the prison. johnson disapproved of dr. dodd's leaving the world persuaded that the convict's address to his unhappy brethren was of his own writing. 'but, sir, (said i,) you contributed to the deception; for when mr. seward expressed a doubt to you that it was not dodd's own, because it had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be his, you answered,--"why should you think so? depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."' johnson. sir, as dodd got it from me to pass as his own, while that could do him any good, there was an implied promise that i should not own it. to own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie, with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply telling a lie to make it be believed it was dodd's. besides, sir, i did not directly tell a lie: i left the matter uncertain. perhaps i thought that seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what i said; but i would not put it in his power to say i had owned it.' he said, 'goldsmith was a plant that flowered late. there appeared nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got high in fame, one of his friends began to recollect something of his being distinguished at college. goldsmith in the same manner recollected more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.' i mentioned that lord monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four, and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the window open, which he called taking an air bath; after which he went to bed again, and slept two hours more. johnson, who was always ready to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'i suppose, sir, there is no more in it than this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills himself, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.' i talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. dr. johnson told me, 'that the learned mrs. carter, at that period when she was eager in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up.' but i said that was my difficulty; and wished there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise without pain, which i never did, unless after lying in bed a very long time. johnson advised me to-night not to refine in the education of my children. 'life (said he,) will not bear refinement: you must do as other people do.' as we drove back to ashbourne, dr. johnson recommended to me, as he had often done, to drink water only: 'for (said he,) you are then sure not to get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never sure.' i said, drinking wine was a pleasure which i was unwilling to give up, 'why, sir, (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' he however owned, that in his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life; and said, he would not give less for the life of a certain scotch lord (whom he named) celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a sober man. 'but stay, (said he, with his usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,) does it take much wine to make him drunk?' i answered, 'a great deal either of wine or strong punch.'--'then (said he,) that is the worse.' i presume to illustrate my friend's observation thus: 'a fortress which soon surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and obstinate resistance is made.' i ventured to mention a person who was as violent a scotsman as he was an englishman; and literally had the same contempt for an englishman compared with a scotsman, that he had for a scotsman compared with an englishman; and that he would say of dr. johnson, 'damned rascal! to talk as he does of the scotch.' this seemed, for a moment, 'to give him pause.' it, perhaps, presented his extreme prejudice against the scotch in a point of view somewhat new to him, by the effect of contrast. by the time when we returned to ashbourne, dr. taylor was gone to bed. johnson and i sat up a long time by ourselves. on saturday, september , after breakfast, when taylor was gone out to his farm, dr. johnson and i had a serious conversation by ourselves on melancholy and madness. we entered seriously upon a question of much importance to me, which johnson was pleased to consider with friendly attention. i had long complained to him that i felt myself discontented in scotland, as too narrow a sphere, and that i wished to make my chief residence in london, the great scene of ambition, instruction, and amusement: a scene, which was to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth. johnson. 'why, sir, i never knew any one who had such a gust for london as you have: and i cannot blame you for your wish to live there: yet, sir, were i in your father's place, i should not consent to your settling there; for i have the old feudal notions, and i should be afraid that auchinleck would be deserted, as you would soon find it more desirable to have a country-seat in a better climate.' i suggested a doubt, that if i were to reside in london, the exquisite zest with which i relished it in occasional visits might go off, and i might grow tired of it. johnson. 'why, sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave london. no, sir, when a man is tired of london, he is tired of life; for there is in london all that life can afford.' he said, 'a country gentleman should bring his lady to visit london as soon as he can, that they may have agreeable topicks for conversation when they are by themselves.' we talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who have a tendency to melancholy; and i mentioned to him a saying which somebody had related of an american savage, who, when an european was expatiating on all the advantages of money, put this question: 'will it purchase occupation?' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this saying is too refined for a savage. and, sir, money will purchase occupation; it will purchase all the conveniences of life; it will purchase variety of company; it will purchase all sorts of entertainment.' i talked to him of forster's voyage to the south seas, which pleased me; but i found he did not like it. 'sir, (said he,) there is a great affectation of fine writing in it.' boswell. 'but he carries you along with him.' johnson. 'no, sir; he does not carry me along with him: he leaves me behind him: or rather, indeed, he sets me before him; for he makes me turn over many leaves at a time.' on sunday, september , we went to the church of ashbourne, which is one of the largest and most luminous that i have seen in any town of the same size. i felt great satisfaction in considering that i was supported in my fondness for solemn publick worship by the general concurrence and munificence of mankind. johnson and taylor were so different from each other, that i wondered at their preserving an intimacy. their having been at school and college together, might, in some degree, account for this; but sir joshua reynolds has furnished me with a stronger reason; for johnson mentioned to him, that he had been told by taylor he was to be his heir. i shall not take upon me to animadvert upon this; but certain it is, that johnson paid great attention to taylor. he now, however, said to me, 'sir, i love him; but i do not love him more; my regard for him does not increase. as it is said in the apocrypha, "his talk is of bullocks:" i do not suppose he is very fond of my company. his habits are by no means sufficiently clerical: this he knows that i see; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual disapprobation.' i have no doubt that a good many sermons were composed for taylor by johnson. at this time i found, upon his table, a part of one which he had newly begun to write: and concio pro tayloro appears in one of his diaries. when to these circumstances we add the internal evidence from the power of thinking and style, in the collection which the reverend mr. hayes has published, with the significant title of 'sermons left for publication by the reverend john taylor, ll.d.,' our conviction will be complete. i, however, would not have it thought, that dr. taylor, though he could not write like johnson, (as, indeed, who could?) did not sometimes compose sermons as good as those which we generally have from very respectable divines. he shewed me one with notes on the margin in johnson's handwriting; and i was present when he read another to johnson, that he might have his opinion of it, and johnson said it was 'very well.' these, we may be sure, were not johnson's; for he was above little arts, or tricks of deception. i mentioned to johnson a respectable person of a very strong mind, who had little of that tenderness which is common to human nature; as an instance of which, when i suggested to him that he should invite his son, who had been settled ten years in foreign parts, to come home and pay him a visit, his answer was, 'no, no, let him mind his business. johnson. 'i do not agree with him, sir, in this. getting money is not all a man's business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.' in the evening, johnson, being in very good spirits, entertained us with several characteristical portraits. i regret that any of them escaped my retention and diligence. i found, from experience, that to collect my friend's conversation so as to exhibit it with any degree of its original flavour, it was necessary to write it down without delay. to record his sayings, after some distance of time, was like preserving or pickling long-kept and faded fruits, or other vegetables, which, when in that state, have little or nothing of their taste when fresh. i shall present my readers with a series of what i gathered this evening from the johnsonian garden. 'did we not hear so much said of jack wilkes, we should think more highly of his conversation. jack has great variety of talk, jack is a scholar, and jack has the manners of a gentleman. but after hearing his name sounded from pole to pole, as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we are disappointed in his company. he has always been at me: but i would do jack a kindness, rather than not. the contest is now over.' 'colley cibber once consulted me as to one of his birthday odes, a long time before it was wanted. i objected very freely to several passages. cibber lost patience, and would not read his ode to an end. when we had done with criticism, we walked over to richardson's, the authour of clarissa and i wondered to find richardson displeased that i "did not treat cibber with more respect." now, sir, to talk of respect for a player!' (smiling disdainfully.) boswell. 'there, sir, you are always heretical: you never will allow merit to a player.' johnson. 'merit, sir! what merit? do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?' boswell. 'no, sir: but we respect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them gracefully.' johnson. 'what, sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries "i am richard the third"? nay, sir, a ballad-singer is a higher man, for he does two things; he repeats and he sings: there is both recitation and musick in his performance: the player only recites.' boswell. 'my dear sir! you may turn anything into ridicule. i allow, that a player of farce is not entitled to respect; he does a little thing: but he who can represent exalted characters, and touch the noblest passions, has very respectable powers; and mankind have agreed in admiring great talents for the stage. we must consider, too, that a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very rare faculty. who can repeat hamlet's soliloquy, "to be, or not to be," as garrick does it?' johnson. 'any body may. jemmy, there (a boy about eight years old, who was in the room,) will do it as well in a week.' boswell. 'no, no, sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting, and of the value which mankind set upon it, garrick has got a hundred thousand pounds.' johnson. 'is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof of excellence? that has been done by a scoundrel commissary.' this was most fallacious reasoning. i was sure, for once, that i had the best side of the argument. i boldly maintained the just distinction between a tragedian and a mere theatrical droll; between those who rouse our terrour and pity, and those who only make us laugh. 'if (said i,) betterton and foote were to walk into this room, you would respect betterton much more than foote.' johnson. 'if betterton were to walk into this room with foote, foote would soon drive him out of it. foote, sir, quatenus foote, has powers superiour to them all.' on monday, september , when at breakfast, i unguardedly said to dr. johnson, 'i wish i saw you and mrs. macaulay together.' he grew very angry; and, after a pause, while a cloud gathered on his brow, he burst out, 'no, sir; you would not see us quarrel, to make you sport. don't you know that it is very uncivil to pit two people against one another?' then, checking himself, and wishing to be more gentle, he added, 'i do not say you should be hanged or drowned for this; but it is very uncivil.' dr. taylor thought him in the wrong, and spoke to him privately of it; but i afterwards acknowledged to johnson that i was to blame, for i candidly owned, that i meant to express a desire to see a contest between mrs. macaulay and him; but then i knew how the contest would end; so that i was to see him triumph. johnson. 'sir, you cannot be sure how a contest will end; and no man has a right to engage two people in a dispute by which their passions may be inflamed, and they may part with bitter resentment against each other. i would sooner keep company with a man from whom i must guard my pockets, than with a man who contrives to bring me into a dispute with somebody that he may hear it. this is the great fault of ------,(naming one of our friends,) endeavouring to introduce a subject upon which he knows two people in the company differ.' boswell. 'but he told me, sir, he does it for instruction.' johnson. 'whatever the motive be, sir, the man who does so, does very wrong. he has no more right to instruct himself at such risk, than he has to make two people fight a duel, that he may learn how to defend himself.' he found great fault with a gentleman of our acquaintance for keeping a bad table. 'sir, (said he,) when a man is invited to dinner, he is disappointed if he does not get something good. i advised mrs. thrale, who has no card-parties at her house, to give sweet-meats, and such good things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and she would find company enough come to her; for every body loves to have things which please the palate put in their way, without trouble or preparation.' such was his attention to the minutiae of life and manners. mr. burke's letter to the sheriffs of bristol, on the affairs of america, being mentioned, johnson censured the composition much, and he ridiculed the definition of a free government, viz. 'for any practical purpose, it is what the people think so.'--'i will let the king of france govern me on those conditions, (said he,) for it is to be governed just as i please.' and when dr. taylor talked of a girl being sent to a parish workhouse, and asked how much she could be obliged to work, 'why, (said johnson,) as much as is reasonable: and what is that? as much as she thinks reasonable.' dr. johnson obligingly proposed to carry me to see islam, a romantick scene, now belonging to a family of the name of port, but formerly the seat of the congreves. i suppose it is well described in some of the tours. johnson described it distinctly and vividly, at which i could not but express to him my wonder; because, though my eyes, as he observed, were better than his, i could not by any means equal him in representing visible objects. i said, the difference between us in this respect was as that between a man who has a bad instrument, but plays well on it, and a man who has a good instrument, on which he can play very imperfectly. i recollect a very fine amphitheatre, surrounded with hills covered with woods, and walks neatly formed along the side of a rocky steep, on the quarter next the house with recesses under projections of rock, overshadowed with trees; in one of which recesses, we were told, congreve wrote his old bachelor. we viewed a remarkable natural curiosity at islam; two rivers bursting near each other from the rock, not from immediate springs, but after having run for many miles under ground. plott, in his history of staffordshire, gives an account of this curiosity; but johnson would not believe it, though we had the attestation of the gardener, who said, he had put in corks, where the river manyfold sinks into the ground, and had catched them in a net, placed before one of the openings where the water bursts out. indeed, such subterraneous courses of water are found in various parts of our globe. talking of dr. johnson's unwillingness to believe extraordinary things i ventured to say, 'sir, you come near hume's argument against miracles, "that it is more probable witnesses should lie, or be mistaken, than that they should happen." johnson. 'why, sir, hume, taking the proposition simply, is right. but the christian revelation is not proved by the miracles alone, but as connected with prophecies, and with the doctrines in confirmation of which the miracles were wrought.' in the evening, a gentleman-farmer, who was on a visit at dr. taylor's, attempted to dispute with johnson in favour of mungo campbell, who shot alexander, earl of eglintoune, upon his having fallen, when retreating from his lordship, who he believed was about to seize his gun, as he had threatened to do. he said, he should have done just as campbell did. johnson. 'whoever would do as campbell did, deserves to be hanged; not that i could, as a juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but i am glad they found means to convict him.' the gentleman-farmer said, 'a poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and campbell had that to defend.' johnson exclaimed, 'a poor man has no honour.' the english yeoman, not dismayed, proceeded: 'lord eglintoune was a damned fool to run on upon campbell, after being warned that campbell would shoot him if he did.' johnson, who could not bear any thing like swearing, angrily replied, 'he was not a damned fool: he only thought too well of campbell. he did not believe campbell would be such a damned scoundrel, as to do so damned a thing.' his emphasis on damned, accompanied with frowning looks, reproved his opponent's want of decorum in his presence. during this interview at ashbourne, johnson seemed to be more uniformly social, cheerful, and alert, than i had almost ever seen him. he was prompt on great occasions and on small. taylor, who praised every thing of his own to excess; in short, 'whose geese were all swans,' as the proverb says, expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, which, he told us, was 'perfectly well shaped.' johnson, after examining the animal attentively, thus repressed the vain-glory of our host:--'no, sir, he is not well shaped; for there is not the quick transition from the thickness of the fore-part, to the tenuity--the thin part--behind,--which a bull-dog ought to have.' this tenuity was the only hard word that i heard him use during this interview, and it will be observed, he instantly put another expression in its place. taylor said, a small bull-dog was as good as a large one. johnson. 'no, sir; for, in proportion to his size, he has strength: and your argument would prove, that a good bull-dog may be as small as a mouse.' it was amazing how he entered with perspicuity and keenness upon every thing that occurred in conversation. most men, whom i know, would no more think of discussing a question about a bull-dog, than of attacking a bull. i cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my memory concerning the great subject of this work to be lost. though a small particular may appear trifling to some, it will be relished by others; while every little spark adds something to the general blaze: and to please the true, candid, warm admirers of johnson, and in any degree increase the splendour of his reputation, i bid defiance to the shafts of ridicule, or even of malignity. showers of them have been discharged at my journal of a tour to the hebrides; yet it still sails unhurt along the stream of time, and, as an attendant upon johnson, 'pursues the triumph, and partakes the gale.' one morning after breakfast, when the sun shone bright, we walked out together, and 'pored' for some time with placid indolence upon an artificial water-fall, which dr. taylor had made by building a strong dyke of stone across the river behind the garden. it was now somewhat obstructed by branches of trees and other rubbish, which had come down the river, and settled close to it. johnson, partly from a desire to see it play more freely, and partly from that inclination to activity which will animate, at times, the most inert and sluggish mortal, took a long pole which was lying on a bank, and pushed down several parcels of this wreck with painful assiduity, while i stood quietly by, wondering to behold the sage thus curiously employed, and smiling with an humorous satisfaction each time when he carried his point. he worked till he was quite out of breath; and having found a large dead cat so heavy that he could not move it after several efforts, 'come,' said he, (throwing down the pole,) 'you shall take it now;' which i accordingly did, and being a fresh man, soon made the cat tumble over the cascade. this may be laughed at as too trifling to record; but it is a small characteristick trait in the flemish picture which i give of my friend, and in which, therefore i mark the most minute particulars. and let it be remembered, that aesop at play is one of the instructive apologues of antiquity. talking of rochester's poems, he said, he had given them to mr. steevens to castrate for the edition of the poets, to which he was to write prefaces. dr. taylor (the only time i ever heard him say any thing witty) observed, that if rochester had been castrated himself, his exceptionable poems would not have been written.' i asked if burnet had not given a good life of rochester. johnson. 'we have a good death: there is not much life.' i asked whether prior's poems were to be printed entire: johnson said they were. i mentioned lord hailes's censure of prior, in his preface to a collection of sacred poems, by various hands, published by him at edinburgh a great many years ago, where he mentions, 'those impure tales which will be the eternal opprobrium of their ingenious authour.' johnson. 'sir, lord hailes has forgot. there is nothing in prior that will excite to lewdness. if lord hailes thinks there is, he must be more combustible than other people.' i instanced the tale of paulo purganti and his wife. johnson. sir, there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed when poor paulo was out of pocket. no, sir, prior is a lady's book. no lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.' the hypochondriack disorder being mentioned, dr. johnson did not think it so common as i supposed. 'dr. taylor (said he,) is the same one day as another. burke and reynolds are the same; beauclerk, except when in pain, is the same. i am not so myself; but this i do not mention commonly.' dr. johnson advised me to-day, to have as many books about me as i could; that i might read upon any subject upon which i had a desire for instruction at the time. 'what you read then (said he,) you will remember; but if you have not a book immediately ready, and the subject moulds in your mind, it is a chance if you again have a desire to study it.' he added, 'if a man never has an eager desire for instruction, he should prescribe a task for himself. but it is better when a man reads from immediate inclination.' he repeated a good many lines of horace's odes, while we were in the chaise. i remember particularly the ode eheu fugaces. he told me that bacon was a favourite authour with him; but he had never read his works till he was compiling the english dictionary, in which, he said, i might see bacon very often quoted. mr. seward recollects his having mentioned, that a dictionary of the english language might be compiled from bacon's writings alone, and that he had once an intention of giving an edition of bacon, at least of his english works, and writing the life of that great man. had he executed this intention, there can be no doubt that he would have done it in a most masterly manner. wishing to be satisfied what degree of truth there was in a story which a friend of johnson's and mine had told me to his disadvantage, i mentioned it to him in direct terms; and it was to this effect: that a gentleman who had lived in great intimacy with him, shewn him much kindness, and even relieved him from a spunging-house, having afterwards fallen into bad circumstances, was one day, when johnson was at dinner with him, seized for debt, and carried to prison; that johnson sat still undisturbed, and went on eating and drinking; upon which the gentleman's sister, who was present, could not suppress her indignation: 'what, sir, (said she,) are you so unfeeling, as not even to offer to go to my brother in his distress; you who have been so much obliged to him?' and that johnson answered, 'madam, i owe him no obligation; what he did for me he would have done for a dog.' johnson assured me, that the story was absolutely false: but like a man conscious of being in the right, and desirous of completely vindicating himself from such a charge, he did not arrogantly rest on a mere denial, and on his general character, but proceeded thus:--'sir, i was very intimate with that gentleman, and was once relieved by him from an arrest; but i never was present when he was arrested, never knew that he was arrested, and i believe he never was in difficulties after the time when he relieved me. i loved him much; yet, in talking of his general character, i may have said, though i do not remember that i ever did say so, that as his generosity proceeded from no principle, but was a part of his profusion, he would do for a dog what he would do for a friend: but i never applied this remark to any particular instance, and certainly not to his kindness to me. if a profuse man, who does not value his money, and gives a large sum to a whore, gives half as much, or an equally large sum to relieve a friend, it cannot be esteemed as virtue. this was all that i could say of that gentleman; and, if said at all, it must have been said after his death. sir, i would have gone to the world's end to relieve him. the remark about the dog, if made by me, was such a sally as might escape one when painting a man highly.' on tuesday, september , johnson was remarkably cordial to me. it being necessary for me to return to scotland soon, i had fixed on the next day for my setting out, and i felt a tender concern at the thought of parting with him. he had, at this time, frankly communicated to me many particulars, which are inserted in this work in their proper places; and once, when i happened to mention that the expence of my jaunt would come to much more than i had computed, he said, 'why, sir, if the expence were to be an inconvenience, you would have reason to regret it: but, if you have had the money to spend, i know not that you could have purchased as much pleasure with it in any other way.' i perceived that he pronounced the word heard, as if spelt with a double e, heerd, instead of sounding it herd, as is most usually done. he said, his reason was, that if it was pronounced herd, there would be a single exception from the english pronunciation of the syllable ear, and he thought it better not to have that exception. in the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, entertained themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the fiddle. johnson desired to have 'let ambition fire thy mind,' played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very insensible to the power of musick. i told him, that it affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetick dejection, so that i was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that i was inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. 'sir, (said he,) i should never hear it, if it made me such a fool.' this evening, while some of the tunes of ordinary composition were played with no great skill, my frame was agitated, and i was conscious of a generous attachment to dr. johnson, as my preceptor and friend, mixed with an affectionate regret that he was an old man, whom i should probably lose in a short time. i thought i could defend him at the point of my sword. my reverence and affection for him were in full glow. i said to him, 'my dear sir, we must meet every year, if you don't quarrel with me.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me, than i with you. my regard for you is greater almost than i have words to express; but i do not choose to be always repeating it; write it down in the first leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again.' i talked to him of misery being 'the doom of man' in this life, as displayed in his vanity of human wishes. yet i observed that things were done upon the supposition of happiness; grand houses were built, fine gardens were made, splendid places of publick amusement were contrived, and crowded with company. johnson. 'alas, sir, these are all only struggles for happiness. when i first entered ranelagh, it gave an expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as i never experienced any where else. but, as xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and considered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle, that was not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of each individual there, would be distressing when alone.' i suggested, that being in love, and flattered with hopes of success; or having some favourite scheme in view for the next day, might prevent that wretchedness of which we had been talking. johnson. 'why, sir, it may sometimes be so as you suppose; but my conclusion is in general but too true.' while johnson and i stood in calm conference by ourselves in dr. taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour in a serene autumn night, looking up to the heavens, i directed the discourse to the subject of a future state. my friend was in a placid and most benignant frame. 'sir, (said he,) i do not imagine that all things will be made clear to us immediately after death, but that the ways of providence will be explained to us very gradually.' he talked to me upon this aweful and delicate question in a gentle tone, and as if afraid to be decisive. after supper i accompanied him to his apartment, and at my request he dictated to me an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming his liberty, in an action in the court of session in scotland. he had always been very zealous against slavery in every form, in which i, with all deference, thought that he discovered 'a zeal without knowledge.' upon one occasion, when in company with some very grave men at oxford, his toast was, 'here's to the next insurrection of the negroes in the west indies.' his violent prejudice against our west indian and american settlers appeared whenever there was an opportunity. towards the conclusion of his taxation no tyranny, he says, 'how is it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty among the drivers of negroes?' when i said now to johnson, that i was afraid i kept him too late up. 'no, sir, (said he,) i don't care though i sit all night with you.' this was an animated speech from a man in his sixty-ninth year. had i been as attentive not to displease him as i ought to have been, i know not but this vigil might have been fulfilled; but i unluckily entered upon the controversy concerning the right of great-britain to tax america, and attempted to argue in favour of our fellow-subjects on the other side of the atlantick. i insisted that america might be very well governed, and made to yield sufficient revenue by the means of influence, as exemplified in ireland, while the people might be pleased with the imagination of their participating of the british constitution, by having a body of representatives, without whose consent money could not be exacted from them. johnson could not bear my thus opposing his avowed opinion, which he had exerted himself with an extreme degree of heat to enforce; and the violent agitation into which he was thrown, while answering, or rather reprimanding me, alarmed me so, that i heartily repented of my having unthinkingly introduced the subject. i myself, however, grew warm, and the change was great, from the calm state of philosophical discussion in which we had a little before been pleasingly employed. we were fatigued by the contest, which was produced by my want of caution; and he was not then in the humour to slide into easy and cheerful talk. it therefore so happened, that we were after an hour or two very willing to separate and go to bed. on wednesday, september , i went into dr. johnson's room before he got up, and finding that the storm of the preceding night was quite laid, i sat down upon his bed-side, and he talked with as much readiness and good-humour as ever. he recommended to me to plant a considerable part of a large moorish farm which i had purchased, and he made several calculations of the expence and profit: for he delighted in exercising his mind on the science of numbers. he pressed upon me the importance of planting at the first in a very sufficient manner, quoting the saying 'in bello non licet bis errare:' and adding, 'this is equally true in planting.' i spoke with gratitude of dr. taylor's hospitality; and, as evidence that it was not on account of his good table alone that johnson visited him often, i mentioned a little anecdote which had escaped my friend's recollection, and at hearing which repeated, he smiled. one evening, when i was sitting with him, frank delivered this message: 'sir, dr. taylor sends his compliments to you, and begs you will dine with him to-morrow. he has got a hare.'--'my compliments (said johnson,) and i'll dine with him--hare or rabbit.' after breakfast i departed, and pursued my journey northwards. i took my post-chaise from the green man, a very good inn at ashbourne, the mistress of which, a mighty civil gentlewoman, courtseying very low, presented me with an engraving of the sign of her house; to which she had subjoined, in her own hand-writing, an address in such singular simplicity of style, that i have preserved it pasted upon one of the boards of my original journal at this time, and shall here insert it for the amusement of my readers:-- 'm. killingley's duty waits upon mr. boswell, is exceedingly obliged to him for this favour; whenever he comes this way, hopes for a continuance of the same. would mr. boswell name the house to his extensive acquaintance, it would be a singular favour conferr'd on one who has it not in her power to make any other return but her most grateful thanks, and sincerest prayers for his happiness in time, and in a blessed eternity.--tuesday morn.' i cannot omit a curious circumstance which occurred at edensor-inn, close by chatsworth, to survey the magnificence of which i had gone a considerable way out of my road to scotland. the inn was then kept by a very jolly landlord, whose name, i think, was malton. he happened to mention that 'the celebrated dr. johnson had been in his house.' i inquired who this dr. johnson was, that i might hear mine host's notion of him. 'sir, (said he,) johnson, the great writer; oddity, as they call him. he's the greatest writer in england; he writes for the ministry; he has a correspondence abroad, and lets them know what's going on.' my friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the authenticity of my relation without any embellishment, as falsehood or fiction is too gently called, laughed a good deal at this representation of himself. on wednesday, march ,* i arrived in london, and was informed by good mr. francis that his master was better, and was gone to mr. thrale's at streatham, to which place i wrote to him, begging to know when he would be in town. he was not expected for some time; but next day having called on dr. taylor, in dean's-yard, westminster, i found him there, and was told he had come to town for a few hours. he met me with his usual kindness, but instantly returned to the writing of something on which he was employed when i came in, and on which he seemed much intent. finding him thus engaged, i made my visit very short. * . on friday, march , i found him at his own house, sitting with mrs. williams, and was informed that the room formerly allotted to me was now appropriated to a charitable purpose; mrs. desmoulins, and i think her daughter, and a miss carmichael, being all lodged in it. such was his humanity, and such his generosity, that mrs. desmoulins herself told me, he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. let it be remembered, that this was above a twelfth part of his pension. his liberality, indeed, was at all periods of his life very remarkable. mr. howard, of lichfield, at whose father's house johnson had in his early years been kindly received, told me, that when he was a boy at the charter-house, his father wrote to him to go and pay a visit to mr. samuel johnson, which he accordingly did, and found him in an upper room, of poor appearance. johnson received him with much courteousness, and talked a great deal to him, as to a school-boy, of the course of his education, and other particulars. when he afterwards came to know and understand the high character of this great man, he recollected his condescension with wonder. he added, that when he was going away, mr. johnson presented him with half-a-guinea; and this, said mr. howard, was at a time when he probably had not another. we retired from mrs. williams to another room. tom davies soon after joined us. he had now unfortunately failed in his circumstances, and was much indebted to dr. johnson's kindness for obtaining for him many alleviations of his distress. after he went away, johnson blamed his folly in quitting the stage, by which he and his wife got five hundred pounds a year. i said, i believed it was owing to churchill's attack upon him, 'he mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.' johnson. 'i believe so too, sir. but what a man is he, who is to be driven from the stage by a line? another line would have driven him from his shop.' he returned next day to streatham, to mr. thrale's; where, as mr. strahan once complained to me, 'he was in a great measure absorbed from the society of his old friends.' i was kept in london by business, and wrote to him on the th, that a separation from him for a week, when we were so near, was equal to a separation for a year, when we were at four hundred miles distance. i went to streatham on monday, march . before he appeared, mrs. thrale made a very characteristical remark:--'i do not know for certain what will please dr. johnson: but i know for certain that it will displease him to praise any thing, even what he likes, extravagantly.' at dinner he laughed at querulous declamations against the age, on account of luxury,--increase of london,--scarcity of provisions,--and other such topicks. 'houses (said he,) will be built till rents fall: and corn is more plentiful now than ever it was.' i had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me by an old man who had been a passenger with me in the stage-coach to-day. mrs. thrale, having taken occasion to allude to it in talking to me, called it 'the story told you by the old woman.'--'now, madam, (said i,) give me leave to catch you in the fact; it was not an old woman, but an old man, whom i mentioned as having told me this.' i presumed to take an opportunity, in presence of johnson, of shewing this lively lady how ready she was, unintentionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narration. next morning, while we were at breakfast, johnson gave a very earnest recommendation of what he himself practised with the utmost conscientiousness: i mean a strict attention to truth, even in the most minute particulars. 'accustom your children (said he,) constantly to this; if a thing happened at one window, and they, when relating it, say that it happened at another, do not let it pass, but instantly check them; you do not know where deviation from truth will end.' boswell. 'it may come to the door: and when once an account is at all varied in one circumstance, it may by degrees be varied so as to be totally different from what really happened.' our lively hostess, whose fancy was impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say, 'nay, this is too much. if mr. johnson should forbid me to drink tea, i would comply, as i should feel the restraint only twice a day; but little variations in narrative must happen a thousand times a day, if one is not perpetually watching.' johnson. 'well, madam, and you ought to be perpetually watching. it is more from carelessness about truth than from intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world.' he was indeed so much impressed with the prevalence of falsehood, voluntary or unintentional, that i never knew any person who upon hearing an extraordinary circumstance told, discovered more of the incredulus odi. he would say, with a significant look and decisive tone, 'it is not so. do not tell this again.' he inculcated upon all his friends the importance of perpetual vigilance against the slightest degrees of falsehood; the effect of which, as sir joshua reynolds observed to me, has been, that all who were of his school are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they would not have possessed in the same degree, if they had not been acquainted with johnson. talking of ghosts, he said, 'it is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. all argument is against it; but all belief is for it.' he said, 'john wesley's conversation is good, but he is never at leisure. he is always obliged to go at a certain hour. this is very disagreeable to a man who loves to fold his legs and have out his talk, as i do.' on friday, april , i dined with him in london, in a company* where were present several eminent men, whom i shall not name, but distinguish their parts in the conversation by different letters. * the club. hill identifies e. as burke and j. as sir joshua reynolds.--ed. e. 'we hear prodigious complaints at present of emigration. i am convinced that emigration makes a country more populous.' j. 'that sounds very much like a paradox.' e. 'exportation of men, like exportation of all other commodities, makes more be produced.' johnson. 'but there would be more people were there not emigration, provided there were food for more.' e. 'no; leave a few breeders, and you'll have more people than if there were no emigration.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is plain there will be more people, if there are more breeders. thirty cows in good pasture will produce more calves than ten cows, provided they have good bulls.' e. 'there are bulls enough in ireland.' johnson. (smiling,) 'so, sir, i should think from your argument.' e. 'i believe, in any body of men in england, i should have been in the minority; i have always been in the minority.' p. 'the house of commons resembles a private company. how seldom is any man convinced by another's argument; passion and pride rise against it.' r. 'what would be the consequence, if a minister, sure of a majority in the house of commons, should resolve that there should be no speaking at all upon his side.' e. 'he must soon go out. that has been tried; but it was found it would not do.' . . . . johnson. 'i have been reading thicknesse's travels, which i think are entertaining.' boswell. 'what, sir, a good book?' johnson. 'yes, sir, to read once; i do not say you are to make a study of it, and digest it; and i believe it to be a true book in his intention.' e. 'from the experience which i have had,--and i have had a great deal,--i have learnt to think better of mankind.' johnson. 'from my experience i have found them worse in commercial dealings, more disposed to cheat, than i had any notion of; but more disposed to do one another good than i had conceived.' j. 'less just and more beneficent.' johnson. 'and really it is wonderful, considering how much attention is necessary for men to take care of themselves, and ward off immediate evils which press upon them, it is wonderful how much they do for others. as it is said of the greatest liar, that he tells more truth than falsehood; so it may be said of the worst man, that he does more good than evil.' boswell. 'perhaps from experience men may be found happier than we suppose.' johnson. 'no, sir; the more we enquire, we shall find men the less happy.' e. 'i understand the hogshead of claret, which this society was favoured with by our friend the dean, is nearly out; i think he should be written to, to send another of the same kind. let the request be made with a happy ambiguity of expression, so that we may have the chance of his sending it also as a present.' johnson. 'i am willing to offer my services as secretary on this occasion.' p. 'as many as are for dr. johnson being secretary hold up your hands.--carried unanimously.' boswell. 'he will be our dictator.' johnson. 'no, the company is to dictate to me. i am only to write for wine; and i am quite disinterested, as i drink none; i shall not be suspected of having forged the application. i am no more than humble scribe.' e. 'then you shall prescribe.' boswell. 'very well. the first play of words to-day.' j. 'no, no; the bulls in ireland.' johnson. 'were i your dictator you should have no wine. it would be my business cavere ne quid detrimenti respublica caperet, and wine is dangerous. rome was ruined by luxury,' (smiling.) e. 'if you allow no wine as dictator, you shall not have me for your master of horse.' on saturday, april , i drank tea with johnson at dr. taylor's, where he had dined. he was very silent this evening; and read in a variety of books: suddenly throwing down one, and taking up another. he talked of going to streatham that night. taylor. 'you'll be robbed if you do: or you must shoot a highwayman. now i would rather be robbed than do that; i would not shoot a highwayman.' johnson. 'but i would rather shoot him in the instant when he is attempting to rob me, than afterwards swear against him at the old-bailey, to take away his life, after he has robbed me. i am surer i am right in the one case than in the other. i may be mistaken as to the man, when i swear: i cannot be mistaken, if i shoot him in the act. besides, we feel less reluctance to take away a man's life, when we are heated by the injury, than to do it at a distance of time by an oath, after we have cooled.' boswell. 'so, sir, you would rather act from the motive of private passion, than that of publick advantage.' johnson. 'nay, sir, when i shoot the highwayman i act from both.' boswell. 'very well, very well--there is no catching him.' johnson. 'at the same time one does not know what to say. for perhaps one may, a year after, hang himself from uneasiness for having shot a man. few minds are fit to be trusted with so great a thing.' boswell. 'then, sir, you would not shoot him?' johnson. 'but i might be vexed afterwards for that too.' thrale's carriage not having come for him, as he expected, i accompanied him some part of the way home to his own house. i told him, that i had talked of him to mr. dunning a few days before, and had said, that in his company we did not so much interchange conversation, as listen to him; and that dunning observed, upon this, 'one is always willing to listen to dr. johnson:' to which i answered, 'that is a great deal from you, sir.'--'yes, sir, (said johnson,) a great deal indeed. here is a man willing to listen, to whom the world is listening all the rest of the year.' boswell. 'i think, sir, it is right to tell one man of such a handsome thing, which has been said of him by another. it tends to increase benevolence.' johnson. 'undoubtedly it is right, sir.' on tuesday, april , i breakfasted with him at his house. he said, 'nobody was content.' i mentioned to him a respectable person in scotland whom he knew; and i asserted, that i really believed he was always content. johnson. 'no, sir, he is not content with the present; he has always some new scheme, some new plantation, something which is future. you know he was not content as a widower; for he married again.' boswell. 'but he is not restless.' johnson. 'sir, he is only locally at rest. a chymist is locally at rest; but his mind is hard at work. this gentleman has done with external exertions. it is too late for him to engage in distant projects.' boswell. 'he seems to amuse himself quite well; to have his attention fixed, and his tranquillity preserved by very small matters. i have tried this; but it would not do with me.' johnson. (laughing,) 'no, sir; it must be born with a man to be contented to take up with little things. women have a great advantage that they may take up with little things, without disgracing themselves: a man cannot, except with fiddling. had i learnt to fiddle, i should have done nothing else.' boswell. 'pray, sir, did you ever play on any musical instrument?' johnson. 'no, sir. i once bought me a flagelet; but i never made out a tune.' boswell. 'a flagelet, sir!--so small an instrument? i should have liked to hear you play on the violoncello. that should have been your instrument.' johnson. 'sir, i might as well have played on the violoncello as another; but i should have done nothing else. no, sir; a man would never undertake great things, could he be amused with small. i once tried knotting. dempster's sister undertook to teach me; but i could not learn it.' boswell. 'so, sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, "once for his amusement he tried knotting; nor did this hercules disdain the distaff."' johnson. 'knitting of stockings is a good amusement. as a freeman of aberdeen i should be a knitter of stockings.' he asked me to go down with him and dine at mr. thrale's at streatham, to which i agreed. i had lent him an account of scotland, in , written by a man of various enquiry, an english chaplain to a regiment stationed there. johnson. 'it is sad stuff, sir, miserably written, as books in general then were. there is now an elegance of style universally diffused. no man now writes so ill as martin's account of the hebrides is written. a man could not write so ill, if he should try. set a merchant's clerk now to write, and he'll do better.' he talked to me with serious concern of a certain female friend's 'laxity of narration, and inattention to truth.'--'i am as much vexed (said he,) at the ease with which she hears it mentioned to her, as at the thing itself. i told her, "madam, you are contented to hear every day said to you, what the highest of mankind have died for, rather than bear."--you know, sir, the highest of mankind have died rather than bear to be told they had uttered a falsehood. do talk to her of it: i am weary.' boswell. 'was not dr. john campbell a very inaccurate man in his narrative, sir? he once told me, that he drank thirteen bottles of port at a sitting.' johnson. 'why, sir, i do not know that campbell ever lied with pen and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing he told you in conversation: if there was fact mixed with it. however, i loved campbell: he was a solid orthodox man: he had a reverence for religion. though defective in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did nothing grossly wrong that i have heard.' talking of drinking wine, he said, 'i did not leave off wine, because i could not bear it; i have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it. university college has witnessed this.' boswell. 'why, then, sir, did you leave it off?' johnson. 'why, sir, because it is so much better for a man to be sure that he is never to be intoxicated, never to lose the power over himself. i shall not begin to drink wine again, till i grow old, and want it.' boswell. 'i think, sir, you once said to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life.' johnson. 'it is a diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but i do not say a diminution of happiness. there is more happiness in being rational.' boswell. 'but if we could have pleasure always, should not we be happy? the greatest part of men would compound for pleasure.' johnson. 'supposing we could have pleasure always, an intellectual man would not compound for it. the greatest part of men would compound, because the greatest part of men are gross.' i mentioned to him that i had become very weary in a company where i heard not a single intellectual sentence, except that 'a man who had been settled ten years in minorca was become a much inferiour man to what he was in london, because a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place.' johnson. 'a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place, whose mind is enlarged only because he has lived in a large place: but what is got by books and thinking is preserved in a narrow place as well as in a large place. a man cannot know modes of life as well in minorca as in london; but he may study mathematicks as well in minorca.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir: if you had remained ten years in the isle of col, you would not have been the man that you now are.' johnson. 'yes, sir, if i had been there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five to thirty-five.' boswell. 'i own, sir, the spirits which i have in london make me do every thing with more readiness and vigour. i can talk twice as much in london as any where else.' of goldsmith he said, 'he was not an agreeable companion, for he talked always for fame. a man who does so never can be pleasing. the man who talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you. an eminent friend of ours is not so agreeable as the variety of his knowledge would otherwise make him, because he talks partly from ostentation.' soon after our arrival at thrale's, i heard one of the maids calling eagerly on another, to go to dr. johnson. i wondered what this could mean. i afterwards learnt, that it was to give her a bible, which he had brought from london as a present to her. he was for a considerable time occupied in reading memoires de fontenelle, leaning and swinging upon the low gate into the court, without his hat. at dinner, mrs. thrale expressed a wish to go and see scotland. johnson. 'seeing scotland, madam, is only seeing a worse england. it is seeing the flower gradually fade away to the naked stalk. seeing the hebrides, indeed, is seeing quite a different scene.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the bishop of st. asaph, (dr. shipley,) mr. allan ramsay, mr. gibbon, mr. cambridge, and mr. langton. goldsmith being mentioned, johnson observed, that it was long before his merit came to be acknowledged. that he once complained to him, in ludicrous terms of distress, 'whenever i write any thing, the publick make a point to know nothing about it:' but that his traveller brought him into high reputation. langton. 'there is not one bad line in that poem; not one of dryden's careless verses. sir joshua. 'i was glad to hear charles fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the english language.' langton. 'why was you glad? you surely had no doubt of this before.' johnson. 'no; the merit of the traveller is so well established, that mr. fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his censure diminish it.' sir joshua. 'but his friends may suspect they had too great a partiality for him.' johnson. nay, sir, the partiality of his friends was always against him. it was with difficulty we could give him a hearing. goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so he talked always at random. it seemed to be his intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and see what would become of it. he was angry too, when catched in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from falling into another the next minute. i remember chamier, after talking with him for some time, said, "well, i do believe he wrote this poem himself: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal." chamier once asked him, what he meant by slow, the last word in the first line of the traveller, "remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow." did he mean tardiness of locomotion? goldsmith, who would say something without consideration, answered, "yes." i was sitting by, and said, "no, sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude." chamier believed then that i had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it. goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. he deserved a place in westminster-abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved it better. he had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with knowledge. he transplanted it from one place to another; and it did not settle in his mind; so he could not tell what was in his own books.' we talked of living in the country. johnson. 'no wise man will go to live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better done in the country. for instance: if he is to shut himself up for a year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an opposite wall. then, if a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in london, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. a great city is, to be sure, the school for studying life; and "the proper study of mankind is man," as pope observes.' boswell. 'i fancy london is the best place for society; though i have heard that the very first society of paris is still beyond any thing that we have here.' johnson. 'sir, i question if in paris such a company as is sitting round this table could be got together in less than half a year. they talk in france of the felicity of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the men are not higher than the women, they know no more than the women do, and they are not held down in their conversation by the presence of women.' we talked of old age. johnson (now in his seventieth year,) said, 'it is a man's own fault, it is from want of use, if his mind grows torpid in old age.' the bishop asked, if an old man does not lose faster than he gets. johnson. 'i think not, my lord, if he exerts himself.' one of the company rashly observed, that he thought it was happy for an old man that insensibility comes upon him. johnson. (with a noble elevation and disdain,) 'no, sir, i should never be happy by being less rational.' bishop of st. asaph. 'your wish then, sir, is [greek text omitted].' johnson. 'yes, my lord.' this season there was a whimsical fashion in the newspapers of applying shakspeare's words to describe living persons well known in the world; which was done under the title of modern characters from shakspeare; many of which were admirably adapted. the fancy took so much, that they were afterwards collected into a pamphlet. somebody said to johnson, across the table, that he had not been in those characters. 'yes (said he,) i have. i should have been sorry to be left out.' he then repeated what had been applied to him, 'i must borrow garagantua's mouth.' miss reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, he was obliged to explain it to her, which had something of an aukward and ludicrous effect. 'why, madam, it has a reference to me, as using big words, which require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them. garagantua is the name of a giant in rabelais.' boswell. 'but, sir, there is another amongst them for you: "he would not flatter neptune for his trident, or jove for his power to thunder."' johnson. 'there is nothing marked in that. no, sir, garagantua is the best.' notwithstanding this ease and good humour, when i, a little while afterwards, repeated his sarcasm on kenrick, which was received with applause, he asked, 'who said that?' and on my suddenly answering, garagantua, he looked serious, which was a sufficient indication that he did not wish it to be kept up. when we went to the drawing-room there was a rich assemblage. besides the company who had been at dinner, there were mr. garrick, mr. harris of salisbury, dr. percy, dr. burney, honourable mrs. cholmondeley, miss hannah more, &c. &c. after wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction for some time, i got into a corner, with johnson, garrick, and harris. garrick. (to harris,) 'pray, sir, have you read potter's aeschylus?' harris. 'yes; and think it pretty.' garrick. (to johnson,) 'and what think you, sir, of it?' johnson. 'i thought what i read of it verbiage: but upon mr. harris's recommendation, i will read a play. (to mr. harris,) don't prescribe two.' mr. harris suggested one, i do not remember which. johnson. 'we must try its effect as an english poem; that is the way to judge of the merit of a translation. translations are, in general, for people who cannot read the original.' i mentioned the vulgar saying, that pope's homer was not a good representation of the original. johnson. 'sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that has ever been produced.' boswell. 'the truth is, it is impossible perfectly to translate poetry. in a different language it may be the same tune, but it has not the same tone. homer plays it on a bassoon; pope on a flagelet.' harris. 'i think heroick poetry is best in blank verse; yet it appears that rhyme is essential to english poetry, from our deficiency in metrical quantities. in my opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous prose.' johnson. 'sir william temple was the first writer who gave cadence to english prose. before his time they were careless of arrangement, and did not mind whether a sentence ended with an important word or an insignificant word, or with what part of speech it was concluded.' garrick. 'of all the translations that ever were attempted, i think elphinston's martial the most extraordinary. he consulted me upon it, who am a little of an epigrammatist myself, you know. i told him freely, "you don't seem to have that turn." i asked him if he was serious; and finding he was, i advised him against publishing. why, his translation is more difficult to understand than the original. i thought him a man of some talents; but he seems crazy in this.' johnson. 'sir, you have done what i had not courage to do. but he did not ask my advice, and i did not force it upon him, to make him angry with me.' garrick. 'but as a friend, sir--.' johnson. 'why, such a friend as i am with him--no.' garrick. 'but if you see a friend going to tumble over a precipice?' johnson. 'that is an extravagant case, sir. you are sure a friend will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a precipice; but, in the other case, i should hurt his vanity, and do him no good. he would not take my advice. his brother-in-law, strahan, sent him a subscription of fifty pounds, and said he would send him fifty more, if he would not publish.' garrick. 'what! eh! is strahan a good judge of an epigram? is not he rather an obtuse man, eh?' johnson. 'why, sir, he may not be a judge of an epigram: but you see he is a judge of what is not an epigram.' boswell. 'it is easy for you, mr. garrick, to talk to an authour as you talked to elphinston; you, who have been so long the manager of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. you are an old judge, who have often pronounced sentence of death. you are a practiced surgeon, who have often amputated limbs; and though this may have been for the good of your patients, they cannot like you. those who have undergone a dreadful operation, are not very fond of seeing the operator again.' garrick. 'yes, i know enough of that. there was a reverend gentleman, (mr. hawkins,) who wrote a tragedy, the siege of something, which i refused.' harris. 'so, the siege was raised.' johnson. 'ay, he came to me and complained; and told me, that garrick said his play was wrong in the concoction. now, what is the concoction of a play?' (here garrick started, and twisted himself, and seemed sorely vexed; for johnson told me, he believed the story was true.) garrick. 'i--i--i--said first concoction.' johnson. (smiling,) 'well, he left out first. and rich, he said, refused him in false english: he could shew it under his hand.' garrick. 'he wrote to me in violent wrath, for having refused his play: "sir, this is growing a very serious and terrible affair. i am resolved to publish my play. i will appeal to the world; and how will your judgement appear?" i answered, "sir, notwithstanding all the seriousness, and all the terrours, i have no objection to your publishing your play; and as you live at a great distance, (devonshire, i believe,) if you will send it to me, i will convey it to the press." i never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!' on friday, april , i found johnson at home in the morning. we resumed the conversation of yesterday. he put me in mind of some of it which had escaped my memory, and enabled me to record it more perfectly than i otherwise could have done. he was much pleased with my paying so great attention to his recommendation in , the period when our acquaintance began, that i should keep a journal; and i could perceive he was secretly pleased to find so much of the fruit of his mind preserved; and as he had been used to imagine and say that he always laboured when he said a good thing--it delighted him, on a review, to find that his conversation teemed with point and imagery. i said to him, 'you were yesterday, sir, in remarkably good humour: but there was nothing to offend you, nothing to produce irritation or violence. there was no bold offender. there was not one capital conviction. it was a maiden assize. you had on your white gloves.' he found fault with our friend langton for having been too silent. 'sir, (said i,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up sir joshua for being glad that charles fox had praised goldsmith's traveller, and you joined him.' johnson. 'yes, sir, i knocked fox on the head, without ceremony. reynolds is too much under fox and burke at present. he is under the fox star and the irish constellation. he is always under some planet.' boswell. 'there is no fox star.' johnson. 'but there is a dog star.' boswell. 'they say, indeed, a fox and a dog are the same animal.' we dined together with mr. scott (now sir william scott his majesty's advocate general,) at his chambers in the temple, nobody else there. the company being small, johnson was not in such spirits as he had been the preceding day, and for a considerable time little was said. talking of fame, for which there is so great a desire, i observed how little there is of it in reality, compared with the other objects of human attention. 'let every man recollect, and he will be sensible how small a part of his time is employed in talking or thinking of shakspeare, voltaire, or any of the most celebrated men that have ever lived, or are now supposed to occupy the attention and admiration of the world. let this be extracted and compressed; into what a narrow space will it go!' i then slily introduced mr. garrick's fame, and his assuming the airs of a great man. johnson. 'sir, it is wonderful how little garrick assumes. no, sir, garrick fortunam reverenter habet. consider, sir: celebrated men, such as you have mentioned, have had their applause at a distance; but garrick had it dashed in his face, sounded in his ears, and went home every night with the plaudits of a thousand in his cranium. then, sir, garrick did not find, but made his way to the tables, the levees, and almost the bed-chambers of the great. then, sir, garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his talents, were constantly submissive to him. and here is a man who has advanced the dignity of his profession. garrick has made a player a higher character.' scott. 'and he is a very sprightly writer too.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own acquisition. if all this had happened to me, i should have had a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down every body that stood in the way. consider, if all this had happened to cibber or quin, they'd have jumped over the moon--yet garrick speaks to us.' (smiling.) boswell. 'and garrick is a very good man, a charitable man.' johnson. 'sir, a liberal man. he has given away more money than any man in england. there may be a little vanity mixed; but he has shewn, that money is not his first object.' boswell. 'yet foote used to say of him, that he walked out with an intention to do a generous action; but, turning the corner of a street, he met with the ghost of a half-penny, which frightened him.' johnson. 'why, sir, that is very true, too; for i never knew a man of whom it could be said with less certainty to-day, what he will do to-morrow, than garrick; it depends so much on his humour at the time.' scott. 'i am glad to hear of his liberality. he has been represented as very saving.' johnson. 'with his domestick saving we have nothing to do. i remember drinking tea with him long ago, when peg woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for making it too strong.* he had then begun to feel money in his purse, and did not know when he should have enough of it.' * when johnson told this little anecdote to sir joshua reynolds, he mentioned a circumstance which he omitted to-day:--'why, (said garrick,) it is as red as blood.' --boswell we talked of war. johnson. 'every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.' boswell. 'lord mansfield does not.' johnson. 'sir, if lord mansfield were in a company of general officers and admirals who have been in service, he would shrink; he'd wish to creep under the table.' boswell. 'no; he'd think he could try them all.' johnson. 'yes, if he could catch them: but they'd try him much sooner. no, sir; were socrates and charles the twelfth of sweden both present in any company, and socrates to say, "follow me, and hear a lecture on philosophy;" and charles, laying his hand on his sword, to say, "follow me, and dethrone the czar;" a man would be ashamed to follow socrates. sir, the impression is universal; yet it is strange.' he talked of mr. charles fox, of whose abilities he thought highly, but observed, that he did not talk much at our club. i have heard mr. gibbon remark, 'that mr. fox could not be afraid of dr. johnson; yet he certainly was very shy of saying any thing in dr. johnson's presence.' he expressed great indignation at the imposture of the cock-lane ghost, and related, with much satisfaction, how he had assisted in detecting the cheat, and had published an account of it in the news-papers. upon this subject i incautiously offended him, by pressing him with too many questions, and he shewed his displeasure. i apologised, saying that 'i asked questions in order to be instructed and entertained; i repaired eagerly to the fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the moment he put a lock upon the well, i desisted.'--'but, sir, (said he), that is forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to rate me. 'nay, sir, (said i,) when you have put a lock upon the well, so that i can no longer drink, do not make the fountain of your wit play upon me and wet me.' he sometimes could not bear being teazed with questions. i was once present when a gentleman asked so many as, 'what did you do, sir?' 'what did you say, sir?' that he at last grew enraged, and said, 'i will not be put to the question. don't you consider, sir, that these are not the manners of a gentleman? i will not be baited with what, and why; what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail bushy?' the gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance, said, 'why, sir, you are so good, that i venture to trouble you.' johnson. 'sir, my being so good is no reason why you should be so ill.' he talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into distant countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that an acquisition of dignity of character was derived from it. he expressed a particular enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of china. i catched it for the moment, and said i really believed i should go and see the wall of china had i not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 'sir, (said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of importance in raising your children to eminence. there would be a lustre reflected upon them from your spirit and curiosity. they would be at all times regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of china. i am serious, sir.' when we had left mr. scott's, he said 'will you go home with me?' 'sir, (said i,) it is late; but i'll go with you for three minutes.' johnson. 'or four.' we went to mrs. williams's room, where we found mr. allen the printer, who was the landlord of his house in bolt-court, a worthy, obliging man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceedingly amusing, though he was of a very diminutive size, he used, even in johnson's presence, to imitate the stately periods and slow and solemn utterance of the great man.--i this evening boasted, that although i did not write what is called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated characters devised for the purpose, i had a method of my own of writing half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet to keep the substance and language of any discourse which i had heard so much in view, that i could give it very completely soon after i had taken it down. on sunday, april , i found him at home before dinner. he and i, and mrs. williams, went to dine with the reverend dr. percy. and here i shall record a scene of too much heat between dr. johnson and dr. percy, which i should have suppressed, were it not that it gave occasion to display the truely tender and benevolent heart of johnson, who, as soon as he found a friend was at all hurt by any thing which he had 'said in his wrath,' was not only prompt and desirous to be reconciled, but exerted himself to make ample reparation. books of travels having been mentioned, johnson praised pennant very highly, as he did at dunvegan, in the isle of sky. dr. percy, knowing himself to be the heir male of the ancient percies, and having the warmest and most dutiful attachment to the noble house of northumberland, could not sit quietly and hear a man praised, who had spoken disrespectfully of alnwick-castle and the duke's pleasure grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels. he therefore opposed johnson eagerly. johnson. 'pennant in what he has said of alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you very angry.' percy. 'he has said the garden is trim, which is representing it like a citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of fine turf and gravel walks.' johnson. 'according to your own account, sir, pennant is right. it is trim. here is grass cut close, and gravel rolled smooth. is not that trim? the extent is nothing against that; a mile may be as trim as a square yard. your extent puts me in mind of the citizen's enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef, and two puddings. there is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the ground, no trees.' percy. 'he pretends to give the natural history of northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immense number of trees planted there of late.' johnson. 'that, sir, has nothing to do with the natural history; that is civil history. a man who gives the natural history of the oak, is not to tell how many oaks have been planted in this place or that. a man who gives the natural history of the cow, is not to tell how many cows are milked at islington. the animal is the same, whether milked in the park or at islington.' percy. 'pennant does not describe well; a carrier who goes along the side of loch-lomond would describe it better.' johnson. 'i think he describes very well.' percy. 'i travelled after him.' johnson. 'and i travelled after him.' percy. 'but, my good friend, you are short-sighted, and do not see so well as i do.' i wondered at dr. percy's venturing thus. dr. johnson said nothing at the time; but inflammable particles were collecting for a cloud to burst. in a little while dr. percy said something more in disparagement of pennant. johnson. (pointedly,) 'this is the resentment of a narrow mind, because he did not find every thing in northumberland.' percy. (feeling the stroke,) 'sir, you may be as rude as you please.' johnson. 'hold, sir! don't talk of rudeness; remember, sir, you told me (puffing hard with passion struggling for a vent,) i was shortsighted. we have done with civility. we are to be as rude as we please.' percy. 'upon my honour, sir, i did not mean to be uncivil.' johnson. 'i cannot say so, sir; for i did mean to be uncivil, thinking you had been uncivil.' dr. percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him by the hand, assured him affectionately that his meaning had been misunderstood; upon which a reconciliation instantly took place. johnson. 'my dear sir, i am willing you shall hang pennant.' percy. (resuming the former subject,) 'pennant complains that the helmet is not hung out to invite to the hall of hospitality. now i never heard that it was a custom to hang out a helmet.' johnson. 'hang him up, hang him up.' boswell. (humouring the joke,) 'hang out his skull instead of a helmet, and you may drink ale out of it in your hall of odin, as he is your enemy; that will be truly ancient. there will be northern antiquities.' johnson. 'he's a whig, sir; a sad dog. (smiling at his own violent expressions, merely for political difference of opinion.) but he's the best traveller i ever read; he observes more things than any one else does.' on monday, april , i dined with johnson at mr. langton's, where were dr. porteus, then bishop of chester, now of london, and dr. stinton. he was at first in a very silent mood. before dinner he said nothing but 'pretty baby,' to one of the children. langton said very well to me afterwards, that he could repeat johnson's conversation before dinner, as johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of the natural history of iceland, from the danish of horrebow, the whole of which was exactly thus:-- 'chap. lxxii. concerning snakes. 'there are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole island.' mr. topham beauclerk came in the evening, and he and dr. johnson and i staid to supper. it was mentioned that dr. dodd had once wished to be a member of the literary club. johnson. 'i should be sorry if any of our club were hanged. i will not say but some of them deserve it.' beauclerk. (supposing this to be aimed at persons for whom he had at that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did not last long,) was irritated, and eagerly said, 'you, sir, have a friend, (naming him) who deserves to be hanged; for he speaks behind their backs against those with whom he lives on the best terms, and attacks them in the newspapers. he certainly ought to be kicked.' johnson. 'sir, we all do this in some degree, "veniam petimus damusque vicissim." to be sure it may be done so much, that a man may deserve to be kicked.' beauclerk. 'he is very malignant.' johnson. 'no, sir; he is not malignant. he is mischievous, if you will. he would do no man an essential injury; he may, indeed, love to make sport of people by vexing their vanity. i, however, once knew an old gentleman who was absolutely malignant. he really wished evil to others, and rejoiced at it.' boswell. 'the gentleman, mr. beauclerk, against whom you are so violent, is, i know, a man of good principles.' beauclerk. 'then he does not wear them out in practice.' dr. johnson, who, as i have observed before, delighted in discrimination of character, and having a masterly knowledge of human nature, was willing to take men as they are, imperfect and with a mixture of good and bad qualities, i suppose though he had said enough in defence of his friend, of whose merits, notwithstanding his exceptional points, he had a just value; and added no more on the subject. on wednesday, april , i dined with dr. johnson at mr. dilly's, and was in high spirits, for i had been a good part of the morning with mr. orme, the able and eloquent historian of hindostan, who expressed a great admiration of johnson. 'i do not care (said he,) on what subject johnson talks; but i love better to hear him talk than any body. he either gives you new thoughts, or a new colouring. it is a shame to the nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. had i been george the third, and thought as he did about america, i would have given johnson three hundred a year for his taxation no tyranny alone.' i repeated this, and johnson was much pleased with such praise from such a man as orme. at mr. dilly's to-day were mrs. knowles, the ingenious quaker lady, miss seward, the poetess of lichfield, the reverend dr. mayo, and the rev. mr. beresford, tutor to the duke of bedford. before dinner dr. johnson seized upon mr. charles sheridan's account of the late revolution in sweden, and seemed to read it ravenously, as if he devoured it, which was to all appearance his method of studying. 'he knows how to read better than any one (said mrs. knowles;) he gets at the substance of a book directly; he tears out the heart of it.' he kept it wrapt up in the tablecloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to have one entertainment in readiness when he should have finished another; resembling (if i may use so coarse a simile) a dog who holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while he eats something else which has been thrown to him. the subject of cookery having been very naturally introduced at a table where johnson, who boasted of the niceness of his palate, owned that 'he always found a good dinner,' he said, 'i could write a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should be a book upon philosophical principles. pharmacy is now made much more simple. cookery may be made so too. a prescription which is now compounded of five ingredients, had formerly fifty in it. so in cookery, if the nature of the ingredients be well known, much fewer will do. then as you cannot make bad meat good, i would tell what is the best butcher's meat, the best beef, the best pieces; how to choose young fowls; the proper seasons of different vegetables; and then how to roast and boil, and compound.' dilly. 'mrs. glasse's cookery, which is the best, was written by dr. hill. half the trade know this.' johnson. 'well, sir. this shews how much better the subject of cookery may be treated by a philosopher. i doubt if the book be written by dr. hill; for, in mrs. glasse's cookery, which i have looked into, salt-petre and sal-prunella are spoken of as different substances whereas sal-prunella is only salt-petre burnt on charcoal; and hill could not be ignorant of this. however, as the greatest part of such a book is made by transcription, this mistake may have been carelessly adopted. but you shall see what a book of cookery i shall make! i shall agree with mr. dilly for the copy-right.' miss seward. 'that would be hercules with the distaff indeed.' johnson. 'no, madam. women can spin very well; but they cannot make a good book of cookery.' mrs. knowles affected to complain that men had much more liberty allowed them than women. johnson. 'why, madam, women have all the liberty they should wish to have. we have all the labour and the danger, and the women all the advantage. we go to sea, we build houses, we do everything, in short, to pay our court to the women.' mrs. knowles. 'the doctor reasons very wittily, but not convincingly. now, take the instance of building; the mason's wife, if she is ever seen in liquor, is ruined; the mason may get himself drunk as often as he pleases, with little loss of character; nay, may let his wife and children starve.' johnson. 'madam, you must consider, if the mason does get himself drunk, and let his wife and children starve, the parish will oblige him to find security for their maintenance. we have different modes of restraining evil. stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound for beasts. if we require more perfection from women than from ourselves, it is doing them honour. and women have not the same temptations that we have: they may always live in virtuous company; men must mix in the world indiscriminately. if a woman has no inclination to do what is wrong being secured from it is no restraint to her. i am at liberty to walk into the thames; but if i were to try it, my friends would restrain me in bedlam, and i should be obliged to them.' mrs. knowles. 'still, doctor, i cannot help thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is allowed to men than to women. it gives a superiority to men, to which i do not see how they are entitled.' johnson. 'it is plain, madam, one or other must have the superiority. as shakspeare says, "if two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind."' dilly. 'i suppose, sir, mrs. knowles would have them to ride in panniers, one on each side.' johnson. 'then, sir, the horse would throw them both.' mrs. knowles. 'well, i hope that in another world the sexes will be equal.' boswell. 'that is being too ambitious, madam. we might as well desire to be equal with the angels. we shall all, i hope, be happy in a future state, but we must not expect to be all happy in the same degree. it is enough if we be happy according to our several capacities. a worthy carman will get to heaven as well as sir isaac newton. yet, though equally good, they will not have the same degrees of happiness.' johnson. 'probably not.' dr. mayo having asked johnson's opinion of soame jenyns's view of the internal evidence of the christian religion;--johnson. 'i think it a pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there seems to be an affectation of ease and carelessness, as if it were not suitable to his character to be very serious about the matter.' boswell. 'he may have intended this to introduce his book the better among genteel people, who might be unwilling to read too grave a treatise. there is a general levity in the age. we have physicians now with bag-wigs; may we not have airy divines, at least somewhat less solemn in their appearance than they used to be?' johnson. 'jenyns might mean as you say.' boswell. 'you should like his book, mrs. knowles, as it maintains, as you friends do, that courage is not a christian virtue.' mrs. knowles. 'yes, indeed, i like him there; but i cannot agree with him, that friendship is not a christian virtue.' johnson. 'why, madam, strictly speaking, he is right. all friendship is preferring the interest of a friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, against the interest of others; so that an old greek said, "he that has friends has no friend." now christianity recommends universal benevolence, to consider all men as our brethren, which is contrary to the virtue of friendship, as described by the ancient philosophers. surely, madam, your sect must approve of this; for, you call all men friends.' mrs. knowles. 'we are commanded to do good to all men, "but especially to them who are of the household of faith."' johnson. 'well, madam. the household of faith is wide enough.' mrs. knowles. 'but, doctor, our saviour had twelve apostles, yet there was one whom he loved. john was called "the disciple whom jesus loved."' johnson. (with eyes sparkling benignantly,) 'very well, indeed, madam. you have said very well.' boswell. 'a fine application. pray, sir, had you ever thought of it?' johnson. 'i had not, sir.' from this pleasing subject, he, i know not how or why, made a sudden transition to one upon which he was a violent aggressor; for he said, 'i am willing to love all mankind, except an american:' and his inflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and slaughter;' calling them, rascals--robbers--pirates;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.' miss seward, looking to him with mild but steady astonishment, said, 'sir, this is an instance that we are always most violent against those whom we have injured.' he was irritated still more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the atlantick. during this tempest i sat in great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, i diverted his attention to other topicks. talking of miss ------, a literary lady, he said, 'i was obliged to speak to miss reynolds, to let her know that i desired she would not flatter me so much.' somebody now observed, 'she flatters garrick.' johnson. 'she is in the right to flatter garrick. she is in the right for two reasons; first, because she has the world with her, who have been praising garrick these thirty years; and secondly, because she is rewarded for it by garrick. why should she flatter me? i can do nothing for her. let her carry her praise to a better market. (then turning to mrs. knowles.) you, madam, have been flattering me all the evening; i wish you would give boswell a little now. if you knew his merit as well as i do, you would say a great deal; he is the best travelling companion in the world.' somebody mentioned the reverend mr. mason's prosecution of mr. murray, the bookseller, for having inserted in a collection of gray's poems, only fifty lines, of which mr. mason had still the exclusive property, under the statute of queen anne; and that mr. mason had persevered, notwithstanding his being requested to name his own terms of compensation. johnson signified his displeasure at mr. mason's conduct very strongly; but added, by way of shewing that he was not surprized at it, 'mason's a whig.' mrs. knowles. (not hearing distinctly,) 'what! a prig, sir?' johnson. 'worse, madam; a whig! but he is both.' of john wesley, he said, 'he can talk well on any subject.' boswell. 'pray, sir, what has he made of his story of a ghost?' johnson. 'why, sir, he believes it; but not on sufficient authority. he did not take time enough to examine the girl. it was at newcastle, where the ghost was said to have appeared to a young woman several times, mentioning something about the right to an old house, advising application to be made to an attorney, which was done; and, at the same time, saying the attorneys would do nothing, which proved to be the fact. "this (says john,) is a proof that a ghost knows our thoughts." now (laughing,) it is not necessary to know our thoughts, to tell that an attorney will sometimes do nothing. charles wesley, who is a more stationary man, does not believe the story. i am sorry that john did not take more pains to inquire into the evidence for it.' miss seward, (with an incredulous smile,) 'what, sir! about a ghost?' johnson. (with solemn vehemence,) 'yes, madam: this is a question which, after five thousand years, is yet undecided; a question, whether in theology or philosophy, one of the most important that can come before the human understanding.' mrs. knowles mentioned, as a proselyte to quakerism, miss ------, a young lady well known to dr. johnson, for whom he had shewn much affection; while she ever had, and still retained, a great respect for him. mrs. knowles at the same time took an opportunity of letting him know 'that the amiable young creature was sorry at finding that he was offended at her leaving the church of england and embracing a simpler faith;' and, in the gentlest and most persuasive manner, solicited his kind indulgence for what was sincerely a matter of conscience. johnson. (frowning very angrily,) 'madam, she is an odious wench. she could not have any proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion, which is the most important of all subjects, and should be studied with all care, and with all the helps we can get. she knew no more of the church which she left, and that which she embraced, than she did of the difference between the copernican and ptolemaick systems.' mrs. knowles. 'she had the new testament before her.' johnson. 'madam, she could not understand the new testament, the most difficult book in the world, for which the study of a life is required.' mrs. knowles. 'it is clear as to essentials.' johnson. 'but not as to controversial points. the heathens were easily converted, because they had nothing to give up; but we ought not, without very strong conviction indeed, to desert the religion in which we have been educated. that is the religion given you, the religion in which it may be said providence has placed you. if you live conscientiously in that religion, you may be safe. but errour is dangerous indeed, if you err when you choose a religion for yourself.' mrs. knowles. 'must we then go by implicit faith?' johnson. 'why, madam, the greatest part of our knowledge is implicit faith; and as to religion, have we heard all that a disciple of confucius, all that a mahometan, can say for himself?' he then rose again into passion, and attacked the young proselyte in the severest terms of reproach, so that both the ladies seemed to be much shocked. we remained together till it was pretty late. notwithstanding occasional explosions of violence, we were all delighted upon the whole with johnson. i compared him at this time to a warm west-indian climate, where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder, lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree. april , being good friday, i waited on johnson, as usual. i observed at breakfast that although it was a part of his abstemious discipline on this most solemn fast, to take no milk in his tea, yet when mrs. desmoulins inadvertently poured it in, he did not reject it. i talked of the strange indecision of mind, and imbecility in the common occurrences of life, which we may observe in some people. johnson. 'why, sir, i am in the habit of getting others to do things for me.' boswell. 'what, sir! have you that weakness?' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i always think afterwards i should have done better for myself.' i expressed some inclination to publish an account of my travels upon the continent of europe, for which i had a variety of materials collected. johnson. 'i do not say, sir, you may not publish your travels; but i give you my opinion, that you would lessen yourself by it. what can you tell of countries so well known as those upon the continent of europe, which you have visited?' boswell. 'but i can give an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, anecdotes, jeux d'esprit, and remarks, so as to make very pleasant reading.' johnson. 'why, sir, most modern travellers in europe who have published their travels, have been laughed at: i would not have you added to the number. the world is now not contented to be merely entertained by a traveller's narrative; they want to learn something. now some of my friends asked me, why i did not give some account of my travels in france. the reason is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of france than i had. you might have liked my travels in france, and the club might have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have been more ridicule than good produced by them.' boswell. 'i cannot agree with you, sir. people would like to read what you say of any thing. suppose a face has been painted by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done by sir joshua.' johnson. 'true, sir, but sir joshua cannot paint a face when he has not time to look on it.' boswell. 'sir, a sketch of any sort by him is valuable. and, sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my voice, and shaking my head,) you should have given us your travels in france. i am sure i am right, and there's an end on't.' i said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend dempster had observed in his letter to me upon the subject, that a great part of what was in his journey to the western islands of scotland had been in his mind before he left london. johnson. 'why yes, sir, the topicks were; and books of travels will be good in proportion to what a man has previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe; his power of contrasting one mode of life with another. as the spanish proverb says, "he, who would bring home the wealth of the indies, must carry the wealth of the indies with him." so it is in travelling; a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' boswell. 'the proverb, i suppose, sir, means, he must carry a large stock with him to trade with.' johnson. 'yes, sir.' it was a delightful day: as we walked to st. clement's church, i again remarked that fleet-street was the most cheerful scene in the world. 'fleet-street (said i,) is in my mind more delightful than tempe.' johnson. 'ay, sir; but let it be compared with mull.' there was a very numerous congregation to-day at st. clement's church, which dr. johnson said he observed with pleasure. and now i am to give a pretty full account of one of the most curious incidents in johnson's life, of which he himself has made the following minute on this day: 'in my return from church, i was accosted by edwards, an old fellow-collegian, who had not seen me since . he knew me, and asked if i remembered one edwards; i did not at first recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and told him a conversation that had passed at an ale-house between us. my purpose is to continue our acquaintance.' it was in butcher-row that this meeting happened. mr. edwards, who was a decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls, accosted johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while johnson returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a stranger. but as soon as edwards had brought to his recollection their having been at pembroke-college together nine-and-forty years ago, he seemed much pleased, asked where he lived, and said he should be glad to see him in bolt-court. edwards. 'ah, sir! we are old men now.' johnson. (who never liked to think of being old,) 'don't let us discourage one another.' edwards. 'why, doctor, you look stout and hearty, i am happy to see you so; for the news-papers told us you were very ill.' johnson. 'ay, sir, they are always telling lies of us old fellows.' wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversation as that between two fellow-collegians, who had lived forty years in london without ever having chanced to meet, i whispered to mr. edwards that dr. johnson was going home, and that he had better accompany him now. so edwards walked along with us, i eagerly assisting to keep up the conversation. mr. edwards informed dr. johnson that he had practised long as a solicitor in chancery, but that he now lived in the country upon a little farm, about sixty acres, just by stevenage in hertfordshire, and that he came to london (to barnard's inn, no. ), generally twice a week. johnson appearing to me in a reverie, mr. edwards addressed himself to me, and expatiated on the pleasure of living in the country. boswell. 'i have no notion of this, sir. what you have to entertain you, is, i think, exhausted in half an hour.' edwards. 'what? don't you love to have hope realized? i see my grass, and my corn, and my trees growing. now, for instance, i am curious to see if this frost has not nipped my fruit-trees.' johnson. (who we did not imagine was attending,) 'you find, sir, you have fears as well as hopes.'--so well did he see the whole, when another saw but the half of a subject. when we got to dr. johnson's house, and were seated in his library, the dialogue went on admirably. edwards. 'sir, i remember you would not let us say prodigious at college. for even then, sir, (turning to me,) he was delicate in language, and we all feared him.'* johnson. (to edwards,) 'from your having practised the law long, sir, i presume you must be rich.' edwards. 'no, sir; i got a good deal of money; but i had a number of poor relations to whom i gave a great part of it.' johnson. 'sir, you have been rich in the most valuable sense of the word.' edwards. 'but i shall not die rich.' johnson. 'nay, sure, sir, it is better to live rich than to die rich.' edwards. 'i wish i had continued at college.' johnson. 'why do you wish that, sir?' edwards. 'because i think i should have had a much easier life than mine has been. i should have been a parson, and had a good living, like bloxam and several others, and lived comfortably.' johnson. 'sir, the life of a parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. i have always considered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able to maintain. i would rather have chancery suits upon my hands than the cure of souls. no, sir, i do not envy a clergyman's life as an easy life, nor do i envy the clergyman who makes it an easy life.' here taking himself up all of a sudden, he exclaimed, 'o! mr. edwards! i'll convince you that i recollect you. do you remember our drinking together at an alehouse near pembroke gate? at that time, you told me of the eton boy, who, when verses on our saviour's turning water into wine were prescribed as an exercise, brought up a single line, which was highly admired,-- "vidit et erubuit lympha pudica deum," and i told you of another fine line in camden's remains, an eulogy upon one of our kings, who was succeeded by his son, a prince of equal merit:-- "mira cano, sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est."' * johnson said to me afterwards, 'sir, they respected me for my literature: and yet it was not great but by comparison. sir, it is amazing how little literature there is in the world.'--boswell edwards. 'you are a philosopher, dr. johnson. i have tried too in my time to be a philosopher; but, i don't know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in.'--mr. burke, sir joshua reynolds, mr. courtenay, mr. malone, and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom i have mentioned this, have thought it an exquisite trait of character. the truth is, that philosophy, like religion, is too generally supposed to be hard and severe, at least so grave as to exclude all gaiety. edwards. 'i have been twice married, doctor. you, i suppose, have never known what it was to have a wife.' johnson. 'sir, i have known what it was to have a wife, and (in a solemn, tender, faultering tone) i have known what it was to lose a wife.--it had almost broke my heart.' edwards. 'how do you live, sir? for my part, i must have my regular meals, and a glass of good wine. i find i require it.' johnson. 'i now drink no wine, sir. early in life i drank wine: for many years i drank none. i then for some years drank a great deal.' edwards. 'some hogs-heads, i warrant you.' johnson. 'i then had a severe illness, and left it off, and i have never begun it again. i never felt any difference upon myself from eating one thing rather than another, nor from one kind of weather rather than another. there are people, i believe, who feel a difference; but i am not one of them. and as to regular meals, i have fasted from the sunday's dinner to the tuesday's dinner, without any inconvenience. i believe it is best to eat just as one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or a man who has a family, must have stated meals. i am a straggler. i may leave this town and go to grand cairo, without being missed here or observed there.' edwards. 'don't you eat supper, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir.' edwards. 'for my part, now, i consider supper as a turnpike through which one must pass, in order to get to bed.' johnson. 'you are a lawyer, mr. edwards. lawyers know life practically. a bookish man should always have them to converse with. they have what he wants.' edwards. 'i am grown old: i am sixty-five.' johnson. 'i shall be sixty-eight next birth-day. come, sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred.' this interview confirmed my opinion of johnson's most humane and benevolent heart. his cordial and placid behaviour to an old fellow-collegian, a man so different from himself; and his telling him that he would go down to his farm and visit him, showed a kindness of disposition very rare at an advanced age. he observed, 'how wonderful it was that they had both been in london forty years, without having ever once met, and both walkers in the street too!' mr. edwards, when going away, again recurred to his consciousness of senility, and looking full in johnson's face, said to him, 'you'll find in dr. young, "o my coevals! remnants of yourselves."' johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with impatience. edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased with the honour of having been thus noticed by dr. johnson. when he was gone, i said to johnson, i thought him but a weak man. johnson. 'why, yes, sir. here is a man who has passed through life without experience: yet i would rather have him with me than a more sensible man who will not talk readily. this man is always willing to say what he has to say.' yet dr. johnson had himself by no means that willingness which he praised so much, and i think so justly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, when there is a total silence in a company, for any length of time; or, which is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the conversation is with difficulty kept up by a perpetual effort? johnson once observed to me, 'tom tyers described me the best: "sir, (said he,) you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken to."' the gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was mr. thomas tyers, son of mr. jonathan tyers, the founder of that excellent place of publick amusement, vauxhall gardens, which must ever be an estate to its proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taste of the english nation; there being a mixture of curious show,--gay exhibition, musick, vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the general ear;--for all which only a shilling is paid; and, though last, not least, good eating and drinking for those who choose to purchase that regale. mr. thomas tyers was bred to the law; but having a handsome fortune, vivacity of temper, and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine himself to the regularity of practice. he therefore ran about the world with a pleasant carelessness, amusing everybody by his desultory conversation. he abounded in anecdote, but was not sufficiently attentive to accuracy. i therefore cannot venture to avail myself much of a biographical sketch of johnson which he published, being one among the various persons ambitious of appending their names to that of my illustrious friend. that sketch is, however, an entertaining little collection of fragments. those which he published of pope and addison are of higher merit; but his fame must chiefly rest upon his political conferences, in which he introduces several eminent persons delivering their sentiments in the way of dialogue, and discovers a considerable share of learning, various knowledge, and discernment of character. this much may i be allowed to say of a man who was exceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with dr. johnson in as easy a manner as almost any of his very numerous acquaintance. mr. edwards had said to me aside, that dr. johnson should have been of a profession. i repeated the remark to johnson that i might have his own thoughts on the subject. johnson. 'sir, it would have been better that i had been of a profession. i ought to have been a lawyer.' boswell. 'i do not think, sir, it would have been better, for we should not have had the english dictionary.' johnson. 'but you would have had reports.' boswell. 'ay; but there would not have been another, who could have written the dictionary. there have been many very good judges. suppose you had been lord chancellor; you would have delivered opinions with more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than perhaps any chancellor ever did, or ever will do. but, i believe, causes have been as judiciously decided as you could have done.' johnson. 'yes, sir. property has been as well settled.' johnson, however, had a noble ambition floating in his mind, and had, undoubtedly, often speculated on the possibility of his supereminent powers being rewarded in this great and liberal country by the highest honours of the state. sir william scott informs me, that upon the death of the late lord lichfield, who was chancellor of the university of oxford, he said to johnson, 'what a pity it is, sir, that you did not follow the profession of the law. you might have been lord chancellor of great britain, and attained to the dignity of the peerage; and now that the title of lichfleld, your native city, is extinct, you might have had it.' johnson, upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone, exclaimed, 'why will you vex me by suggesting this, when it is too late?' but he did not repine at the prosperity of others. the late dr. thomas leland, told mr. courtenay, that when mr. edmund burke shewed johnson his fine house and lands near beaconsfield, johnson coolly said, 'non equidem invideo; miror magis.'* * i am not entirely without suspicion that johnson may have felt a little momentary envy; for no man loved the good things of this life better than he did and he could not but be conscious that he deserved a much larger share of them, than he ever had.--boswell. yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature than johnson, or was more determined in maintaining the respect which he justly considered as due to it. of this, besides the general tenor of his conduct in society, some characteristical instances may be mentioned. he told sir joshua reynolds, that once when he dined in a numerous company of booksellers, where the room being small, the head of the table, at which he sat, was almost close to the fire, he persevered in suffering a great deal of inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit his place, and let one of them sit above him. goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, complained one day, in a mixed company, of lord camden. 'i met him (said he,) at lord clare's house in the country, and he took no more notice of me than if i had been an ordinary man. the company having laughed heartily, johnson stood forth in defence of his friend. 'nay, gentlemen, (said he,) dr. goldsmith is in the right. a nobleman ought to have made up to such a man as goldsmith; and i think it is much against lord camden that he neglected him.' nor could he patiently endure to hear that such respect as he thought due only to higher intellectual qualities, should be bestowed on men of slighter, though perhaps more amusing talents. i told him, that one morning, when i went to breakfast with garrick, who was very vain of his intimacy with lord camden, he accosted me thus:--'pray now, did you--did you meet a little lawyer turning the corner, eh?'--'no, sir, (said i). pray what do you mean by the question?'--'why, (replied garrick, with an affected indifference, yet as if standing on tip-toe,) lord camden has this moment left me. we have had a long walk together.' johnson. 'well, sir, garrick talked very properly. lord camden was a little lawyer to be associating so familiarly with a player.' sir joshua reynolds observed, with great truth, that johnson considered garrick to be as it were his property. he would allow no man either to blame or to praise garrick in his presence, without contradicting him. having fallen into a very serious frame of mind, in which mutual expressions of kindness passed between us, such as would be thought too vain in me to repeat, i talked with regret of the sad inevitable certainty that one of us must survive the other. johnson. 'yes, sir, that is an affecting consideration. i remember swift, in one of his letters to pope, says, "i intend to come over, that we may meet once more; and when we must part, it is what happens to all human beings."' boswell. 'the hope that we shall see our departed friends again must support the mind.' johnson. 'why yes, sir.' boswell. 'there is a strange unwillingness to part with life, independent of serious fears as to futurity. a reverend friend of ours (naming him) tells me, that he feels an uneasiness at the thoughts of leaving his house, his study, his books.' johnson. 'this is foolish in *****. a man need not be uneasy on these grounds; for, as he will retain his consciousness, he may say with the philosopher, omnia mea mecum porto.' boswell. 'true, sir: we may carry our books in our heads; but still there is something painful in the thought of leaving for ever what has given us pleasure. i remember, many years ago, when my imagination was warm, and i happened to be in a melancholy mood, it distressed me to think of going into a state of being in which shakspeare's poetry did not exist. a lady whom i then much admired, a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me by saying, "the first thing you will meet in the other world, will be an elegant copy of shakspeare's works presented to you."' dr. johnson smiled benignantly at this, and did not appear to disapprove of the notion. we went to st. clement's church again in the afternoon, and then returned and drank tea and coffee in mrs. williams's room; mrs. desmoulins doing the honours of the tea-table. i observed that he would not even look at a proof-sheet of his life of waller on good-friday. on saturday, april , i drank tea with him. he praised the late mr. duncombe, of canterbury, as a pleasing man. 'he used to come to me: i did not seek much after him. indeed i never sought much after any body.' boswell. 'lord orrery, i suppose.' johnson. 'no, sir; i never went to him but when he sent for me.' boswell. 'richardson?' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i sought after george psalmanazar the most. i used to go and sit with him at an alehouse in the city.' i am happy to mention another instance which i discovered of his seeking after a man of merit. soon after the honourable daines barrington had published his excellent observations on the statutes, johnson waited on that worthy and learned gentleman; and, having told him his name, courteously said, 'i have read your book, sir, with great pleasure, and wish to be better known to you.' thus began an acquaintance, which was continued with mutual regard as long as johnson lived. talking of a recent seditious delinquent, he said, 'they should set him in the pillory, that he may be punished in a way that would disgrace him.' i observed, that the pillory does not always disgrace. and i mentioned an instance of a gentleman who i thought was not dishonoured by it. johnson. 'ay, but he was, sir. he could not mouth and strut as he used to do, after having been there. people are not willing to ask a man to their tables who has stood in the pillory.' johnson attacked the americans with intemperate vehemence of abuse. i said something in their favour; and added, that i was always sorry when he talked on that subject. this, it seems, exasperated him; though he said nothing at the time. the cloud was charged with sulphureous vapour, which was afterwards to burst in thunder.--we talked of a gentleman who was running out his fortune in london; and i said, 'we must get him out of it. all his friends must quarrel with him, and that will soon drive him away.' johnson. 'nay, sir; we'll send you to him. if your company does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.' this was a horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. i afterwards asked him why he had said so harsh a thing. johnson. because, sir, you made me angry about the americans.' boswell. 'but why did you not take your revenge directly?' johnson. (smiling,) 'because, sir, i had nothing ready. a man cannot strike till he has his weapons.' this was a candid and pleasant confession. he shewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly fitted up; and said, 'mrs. thrale sneered when i talked of my having asked you and your lady to live at my house. i was obliged to tell her, that you would be in as respectable a situation in my house as in hers. sir, the insolence of wealth will creep out.' boswell. 'she has a little both of the insolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts.' johnson. 'the insolence of wealth is a wretched thing; but the conceit of parts has some foundation. to be sure it should not be. but who is without it?' boswell. 'yourself, sir.' johnson. 'why, i play no tricks: i lay no traps.' boswell. 'no, sir. you are six feet high, and you only do not stoop.' we talked of the numbers of people that sometimes have composed the household of great families. i mentioned that there were a hundred in the family of the present earl of eglintoune's father. dr. johnson seeming to doubt it, i began to enumerate. 'let us see: my lord and my lady two.' johnson. 'nay, sir, if you are to count by twos, you may be long enough.' boswell. 'well, but now i add two sons and seven daughters, and a servant for each, that will make twenty; so we have the fifth part already.' johnson. 'very true. you get at twenty pretty readily; but you will not so easily get further on. we grow to five feet pretty readily; but it is not so easy to grow to seven.' on monday, april , i found him at home in the morning. we talked of a gentleman who we apprehended was gradually involving his circumstances by bad management. johnson. 'wasting a fortune is evaporation by a thousand imperceptible means. if it were a stream, they'd stop it. you must speak to him. it is really miserable. were he a gamester, it could be said he had hopes of winning. were he a bankrupt in trade, he might have grown rich; but he has neither spirit to spend nor resolution to spare. he does not spend fast enough to have pleasure from it. he has the crime of prodigality, and the wretchedness of parsimony. if a man is killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has been killed; but it is a sad thing for a man to lie down and die; to bleed to death, because he has not fortitude enough to sear the wound, or even to stitch it up.' i cannot but pause a moment to admire the fecundity of fancy, and choice of language, which in this instance, and, indeed, on almost all occasions, he displayed. it was well observed by dr. percy, now bishop of dromore, 'the conversation of johnson is strong and clear, and may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct and bold. ordinary conversation resembles an inferiour cast.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the learned dr. musgrave, counsellor leland of ireland, son to the historian, mrs. cholmondeley, and some more ladies. 'demosthenes taylor, as he was called, (that is, the editor of demosthenes) was the most silent man, the merest statue of a man that i have ever seen. i once dined in company with him, and all he said during the whole time was no more than richard. how a man should say only richard, it is not easy to imagine. but it was thus: dr. douglas was talking of dr. zachary grey, and ascribing to him something that was written by dr. richard grey. so, to correct him, taylor said, (imitating his affected sententious emphasis and nod,) "richard."' mrs. cholmondeley, in a high flow of spirits, exhibited some lively sallies of hyperbolical compliment to johnson, with whom she had been long acquainted, and was very easy. he was quick in catching the manner of the moment, and answered her somewhat in the style of the hero of a romance, 'madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.' we talked of a lady's verses on ireland. miss reynolds. 'have you seen them, sir?' johnson. 'no, madam. i have seen a translation from horace, by one of her daughters. she shewed it me.' miss reynolds. 'and how was it, sir?' johnson. 'why, very well for a young miss's verses;--that is to say, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the person who wrote them. i am vexed at being shewn verses in that manner.' miss reynolds. 'but if they should be good, why not give them hearty praise?' johnson. 'why, madam, because i have not then got the better of my bad humour from having been shown them. you must consider, madam; beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. nobody has a right to put another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not true.' boswell. 'a man often shews his writings to people of eminence, to obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may afterwards avail himself.' johnson. 'very true, sir. therefore the man, who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, is put to the torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; so that what he says is not considered as his opinion; yet he has said it, and cannot retract it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a cannister at his tail, can say, "i would not have published, had not johnson, or reynolds, or musgrave, or some other good judge, commended the work." yet i consider it as a very difficult question in conscience, whether one should advise a man not to publish a work, if profit be his object; for the man may say, "had it not been for you, i should have had the money." now you cannot be sure; for you have only your own opinion, and the publick may think very differently.' sir joshua reynolds. 'you must upon such an occasion have two judgements; one as to the real value of the work, the other as to what may please the general taste at the time.' johnson. 'but you can be sure of neither; and therefore i should scruple much to give a suppressive vote. both goldsmith's comedies were once refused; his first by garrick, his second by colman, who was prevailed on at last by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to bring it on. his vicar of wakefield i myself did not think would have had much success. it was written and sold to a bookseller before his traveller; but published after; so little expectation had the bookseller from it. had it been sold after the traveller he might have had twice as much money for it, though sixty guineas was no mean price. the bookseller had the advantage of goldsmith's reputation from the traveller in the sale, though goldsmith had it not in selling the copy.' sir joshua reynolds. 'the beggar's opera affords a proof how strangely people will differ in opinion about a literary performance. burke thinks it has no merit.' johnson. 'it was refused by one of the houses; but i should have thought it would succeed, not from any great excellence in the writing, but from the novelty, and the general spirit and gaiety of the piece, which keeps the audience always attentive, and dismisses them in good humour.' we went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable increase of company. several of us got round dr. johnson, and complained that he would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there might be a complete edition. he smiled, and evaded our entreaties. that he intended to do it, i have no doubt, because i have heard him say so; and i have in my possession an imperfect list, fairly written out, which he entitles historia studiorum. i once got from one of his friends a list, which there was pretty good reason to suppose was accurate, for it was written down in his presence by this friend, who enumerated each article aloud, and had some of them mentioned to him by mr. levett, in concert with whom it was made out; and johnson, who heard all this, did not contradict it. but when i shewed a copy of this list to him, and mentioned the evidence for its exactness, he laughed, and said, 'i was willing to let them go on as they pleased, and never interfered.' upon which i read it to him, article by article, and got him positively to own or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty so far, i got some other articles confirmed by him directly; and afterwards, from time to time, made additions under his sanction. the conversation having turned on bon-mots, be quoted, from one of the ana, an exquisite instance of flattery in a maid of honour in france, who being asked by the queen what o'clock it was, answered, 'what your majesty pleases.' he admitted that mr. burke's classical pun upon mr. wilkes's being carried on the shoulders of the mob,-- '-------------numerisque fertur lege solutus,' was admirable; and though he was strangely unwilling to allow to that extraordinary man the talent of wit, he also laughed with approbation at another of his playful conceits; which was, that 'horace has in one line given a description of a good desirable manour:-- "est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines;" that is to say, a modus as to the tithes and certain fines.' he observed, 'a man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except he relates simple facts; as, "i was at richmond:" or what depends on mensuration; as, "i am six feet high." he is sure he has been at richmond; he is sure he is six feet high: but he cannot be sure he is wise, or that he has any other excellence. then, all censure of a man's self is oblique praise. it is in order to shew how much he can spare. it has all the invidiousness of self-praise, and all the reproach of falsehood.' on tuesday, april , he was engaged to dine at general paoli's, where, as i have already observed, i was still entertained in elegant hospitality, and with all the ease and comfort of a home. i called on him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. we stopped first at the bottom of hedgelane, into which he went to leave a letter, 'with good news for a poor man in distress,' as he told me. i did not question him particularly as to this. he himself often resembled lady bolingbroke's lively description of pope; that 'he was un politique aux choux et aux raves.' he would say, 'i dine to-day in grosvenor-square;' this might be with a duke: or, perhaps, 'i dine to-day at the other end of the town:' or, 'a gentleman of great eminence called on me yesterday.' he loved thus to keep things floating in conjecture: omne ignotum pro magnifico est. i believe i ventured to dissipate the cloud, to unveil the mystery, more freely and frequently than any of his friends. we stopped again at wirgman's, the well-known toy-shop, in st. james's-street, at the corner of st. james's-place, to which he had been directed, but not clearly, for he searched about some time, and could not find it at first; and said, 'to direct one only to a corner shop is toying with one.' i suppose he meant this as a play upon the word toy: it was the first time that i knew him stoop to such sport. after he had been some time in the shop, he sent for me to come out of the coach, and help him to choose a pair of silver buckles, as those he had were too small. probably this alteration in dress had been suggested by mrs. thrale, by associating with whom, his external appearance was much improved. he got better cloaths; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, was enlivened by metal buttons. his wigs, too, were much better; and during their travels in france, he was furnished with a paris-made wig, of handsome construction. this choosing of silver buckles was a negociation: 'sir, (said he,) i will not have the ridiculous large ones now in fashion; and i will give no more than a guinea for a pair.' such were the principles of the business; and, after some examination, he was fitted. as we drove along, i found him in a talking humour, of which i availed myself. boswell. 'i was this morning in ridley's shop, sir; and was told, that the collection called johnsoniana has sold very much.' johnson. 'yet the journey to the hebrides has not had a great sale.' boswell. 'that is strange.' johnson. 'yes, sir; for in that book i have told the world a great deal that they did not know before.' boswell. 'i drank chocolate, sir, this morning with mr. eld; and, to my no small surprize, found him to be a staffordshire whig, a being which i did not believe had existed.' johnson. 'sir, there are rascals in all countries.' boswell. 'eld said, a tory was a creature generated between a non-juring parson and one's grandmother.' johnson. 'and i have always said, the first whig was the devil.' boswell. 'he certainly was, sir. the devil was impatient of subordination; he was the first who resisted power:-- "better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven."' at general paoli's were sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, marchese gherardi of lombardy, and mr. john spottiswoode the younger, of spottiswoode, the solicitor. we talked of drinking wine. johnson. 'i require wine only when i am alone. i have then often wished for it, and often taken it.' spottiswoode. 'what, by way of a companion, sir?' johnson. 'to get rid of myself, to send myself away. wine gives great pleasure; and every pleasure is of itself a good. it is a good, unless counterbalanced by evil. a man may have a strong reason not to drink wine; and that may be greater than the pleasure. wine makes a man better pleased with himself. i do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others. sometimes it does. but the danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with himself, he may be growing less pleasing to others. wine gives a man nothing. it neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man, and enables him to bring out what a dread of the company had repressed. it only puts in motion what has been locked up in frost. but this may be good, or it may be bad.' spottiswoode. 'so, sir, wine is a key which opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.' johnson. 'nay, sir, conversation is the key: wine is a pick-lock, which forces open the box and injures it. a man should cultivate his mind so as to have that confidence and readiness without wine, which wine gives.' boswell. 'the great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. for instance, a good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, which he has had twenty years in his cellar.' johnson. 'sir, all this notion about benevolence arises from a man's imagining himself to be of more importance to others, than he really is. they don't care a farthing whether he drinks wine or not.' sir joshua reynolds. 'yes, they do for the time.' johnson. 'for the time!--if they care this minute, they forget it the next. and as for the good worthy man; how do you know he is good and worthy? no good and worthy man will insist upon another man's drinking wine. as to the wine twenty years in the cellar,--of ten men, three say this, merely because they must say something;--three are telling a lie, when they say they have had the wine twenty years;--three would rather save the wine;--one, perhaps, cares. i allow it is something to please one's company: and people are always pleased with those who partake pleasure with them. but after a man has brought himself to relinquish the great personal pleasure which arises from drinking wine, any other consideration is a trifle. to please others by drinking wine, is something only, if there be nothing against it. i should, however, be sorry to offend worthy men:-- "curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, that tends to make one worthy man my foe."' boswell. 'curst be the spring, the water.' johnson. 'but let us consider what a sad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do any thing else that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we are.' langton. 'by the same rule you must join with a gang of cut-purses.' johnson. 'yes, sir: but yet we must do justice to wine; we must allow it the power it possesses. to make a man pleased with himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing; "si patriae volumus, si nobis vivere cari."' i was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by johnson's recommendation. johnson. 'boswell is a bolder combatant than sir joshua: he argues for wine without the help of wine; but sir joshua with it.' sir joshua reynolds. 'but to please one's company is a strong motive.' johnson. (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body who drank wine to be elevated,) 'i won't argue any more with you, sir. you are too far gone.' sir joshua. 'i should have thought so indeed, sir, had i made such a speech as you have now done.' johnson. (drawing himself in, and, i really thought blushing,) 'nay, don't be angry. i did not mean to offend you.' sir joshua. 'at first the taste of wine was disagreeable to me; but i brought myself to drink it, that i might be like other people. the pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with pleasing your company, that altogether there is something of social goodness in it.' johnson. 'sir, this is only saying the same thing over again.' sir joshua. 'no, this is new.' johnson. 'you put it in new words, but it is an old thought. this is one of the disadvantages of wine. it makes a man mistake words for thoughts.' boswell. 'i think it is a new thought; at least, it is in a new attitude.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is only in a new coat; or an old coat with a new facing. (then laughing heartily,) it is the old dog in a new doublet.--an extraordinary instance however may occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him, unless he will drink: there may be a good reason for drinking.' i mentioned a nobleman, who i believed was really uneasy if his company would not drink hard. johnson. 'that is from having had people about him whom he has been accustomed to command.' boswell. 'supposing i should be tete-a-tete with him at table.' johnson. 'sir, there is no more reason for your drinking with him, than his being sober with you.' boswell. 'why, that is true; for it would do him less hurt to be sober, than it would do me to get drunk.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and from what i have heard of him, one would not wish to sacrifice himself to such a man. if he must always have somebody to drink with him, he should buy a slave, and then he would be sure to have it. they who submit to drink as another pleases, make themselves his slaves.' boswell. 'but, sir, you will surely make allowance for the duty of hospitality. a gentleman who loves drinking, comes to visit me.' johnson. 'sir, a man knows whom he visits; he comes to the table of a sober man.' boswell. 'but, sir, you and i should not have been so well received in the highlands and hebrides, if i had not drunk with our worthy friends. had i drunk water only as you did, they would not have been so cordial.' johnson. 'sir william temple mentions that in his travels through the netherlands he had two or three gentlemen with him; and when a bumper was necessary, he put it on them. were i to travel again through the islands, i would have sir joshua with me to take the bumpers.' boswell. 'but, sir, let me put a case. suppose sir joshua should take a jaunt into scotland; he does me the honour to pay me a visit at my house in the country; i am overjoyed at seeing him; we are quite by ourselves, shall i unsociably and churlishly let him sit drinking by himself? no, no, my dear sir joshua, you shall not be treated so, i will take a bottle with you.' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. allan ramsay's, where were lord binning, dr. robertson the historian, sir joshua reynolds, and the honourable mrs. boscawen, widow of the admiral, and mother of the present viscount falmouth; of whom, if it be not presumptuous in me to praise her, i would say, that her manners are the most agreeable, and her conversation the best, of any lady with whom i ever had the happiness to be acquainted. before johnson came we talked a good deal of him; ramsay said he had always found him a very polite man, and that he treated him with great respect, which he did very sincerely. i said i worshipped him. robertson. 'but some of you spoil him; you should not worship him; you should worship no man.' boswell. 'i cannot help worshipping him, he is so much superiour to other men.' robertson. in criticism, and in wit in conversation, he is no doubt very excellent; but in other respects he is not above other men; he will believe any thing, and will strenuously defend the most minute circumstance connected with the church of england.' boswell. 'believe me, doctor, you are much mistaken as to this; for when you talk with him calmly in private, he is very liberal in his way of thinking.' robertson. 'he and i have been always very gracious; the first time i met him was one evening at strahan's, when he had just had an unlucky altercation with adam smith, to whom he had been so rough, that strahan, after smith was gone, had remonstrated with him, and told him that i was coming soon, and that he was uneasy to think that he might behave in the same manner to me. "no, no, sir, (said johnson,) i warrant you robertson and i shall do very well." accordingly he was gentle and good-humoured, and courteous with me the whole evening; and he has been so upon every occasion that we have met since. i have often said (laughing,) that i have been in a great measure indebted to smith for my good reception.' boswell. 'his power of reasoning is very strong, and he has a peculiar art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good portrait painting.' sir joshua reynolds. 'he is undoubtedly admirable in this; but, in order to mark the characters which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives people more than they really have, whether of good or bad.' no sooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking so easily, arrive, than we were all as quiet as a school upon the entrance of the head-master; and were very soon set down to a table covered with such variety of good things, as contributed not a little to dispose him to be pleased. ramsay. 'i am old enough to have been a contemporary of pope. his poetry was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than after his death.' johnson. 'sir, it has not been less admired since his death; no authours ever had so much fame in their own life-time as pope and voltaire; and pope's poetry has been as much admired since his death as during his life; it has only not been as much talked of, but that is owing to its being now more distant, and people having other writings to talk of. virgil is less talked of than pope, and homer is less talked of than virgil; but they are not less admired. we must read what the world reads at the moment. it has been maintained that this superfoetation, this teeming of the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good literature, because it obliges us to read so much of what is of inferiour value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are neglected for want of time, because a man will have more gratification of his vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, than from having read the best works of antiquity. but it must be considered, that we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now, which is a great extension. modern writers are the moons of literature; they shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients. greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; rome of elegance.' ramsay. 'i suppose homer's iliad to be a collection of pieces which had been written before his time. i should like to see a translation of it in poetical prose like the book of ruth or job.' robertson. 'would you, dr. johnson, who are master of the english language, but try your hand upon a part of it.' johnson. 'sir, you could not read it without the pleasure of verse. dr. robertson expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman; that he was one of the strongest-minded men that ever lived; that he would sit in company quite sluggish, while there was nothing to call forth his intellectual vigour; but the moment that any important subject was started, for instance, how this country is to be defended against a french invasion, he would rouse himself, and shew his extraordinary talents with the most powerful ability and animation. johnson. 'yet this man cut his own throat. the true strong and sound mind is the mind that can embrace equally great things and small. now i am told the king of prussia will say to a servant, "bring me a bottle of such a wine, which came in such a year; it lies in such a corner of the cellars." i would have a man great in great things, and elegant in little things.' he said to me afterwards, when we were by ourselves, 'robertson was in a mighty romantick humour, he talked of one whom he did not know; but i downed him with the king of prussia.' 'yes, sir, (said i,) you threw a bottle at his head.' an ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both robertson and ramsay agreed that he had a constant firmness of mind; for after a laborious day, and amidst a multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he would sit down with his sisters and he quite cheerful and good-humoured. such a disposition, it was observed, was a happy gift of nature. johnson. 'i do not think so; a man has from nature a certain portion of mind; the use he makes of it depends upon his own free will. that a man has always the same firmness of mind i do not say; because every man feels his mind less firm at one time than another; but i think a man's being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' i, however, could not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his will. next day, thursday, april , i found him at home by himself. johnson. 'well, sir, ramsay gave us a splendid dinner. i love ramsay. you will not find a man in whose conversation there is more instruction, more information, and more elegance, than in ramsay's.' boswell. 'what i admire in ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir, it is to be admired. i value myself upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in my conversation. i am now sixty-eight, and i have no more of it than at twenty-eight.' boswell. 'but, sir, would not you wish to know old age? he who is never an old man, does not know the whole of human life; for old age is one of the divisions of it.' johnson. 'nay, sir, what talk is this?' boswell. 'i mean, sir, the sphinx's description of it;--morning, noon, and night. i would know night, as well as morning and noon.' johnson. 'what, sir, would you know what it is to feel the evils of old age? would you have the gout? would you have decrepitude?'--seeing him heated, i would not argue any farther; but i was confident that i was in the right. i would, in due time, be a nestor, an elder of the people; and there should be some difference between the conversation of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. a grave picture should not be gay. there is a serene, solemn, placid old age. johnson. 'mrs. thrale's mother said of me what flattered me much. a clergyman was complaining of want of society in the country where he lived; and said, "they talk of runts;" (that is, young cows). "sir, (said mrs. salusbury,) mr. johnson would learn to talk of runts:" meaning that i was a man who would make the most of my situation, whatever it was.' he added, 'i think myself a very polite man.' on saturday, may , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, where there was a very large company, and a great deal of conversation; but owing to some circumstance which i cannot now recollect, i have no record of any part of it, except that there were several people there by no means of the johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that i was vexed and angry, because it gave those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon his supposed ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends. i was so much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that i kept away from him for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been reconciled. to such unhappy chances are human friendships liable. on friday, may , i dined with him at mr. langton's. i was reserved and silent, which i suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause. after dinner when mr. langton was called out of the room, and we were by ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of conciliating courtesy, 'well, how have you done?' boswell. 'sir, you have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last at sir joshua reynolds's. you know, my dear sir, no man has a greater respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the world to serve you. now to treat me so--.' he insisted that i had interrupted him, which i assured him was not the case; and proceeded--'but why treat me so before people who neither love you nor me?' johnson. 'well, i am sorry for it. i'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you please.' boswell. 'i said to-day to sir joshua, when he observed that you tossed me sometimes--i don't care how often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then i fall upon soft ground: but i do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present.--i think this a pretty good image, sir.' johnson. 'sir, it is one of the happiest i have ever heard.' the truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at any time, unless they were irritated by some malignant infusion by other hands. we were instantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty laugh at some ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our friends. boswell. 'do you think, sir, it is always culpable to laugh at a man to his face?' johnson. 'why, sir, that depends upon the man and the thing. if it is a slight man, and a slight thing, you may; for you take nothing valuable from him.' when mr. langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' went on. an eminent authour being mentioned;--johnson. 'he is not a pleasant man. his conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant. he does not talk as if impelled by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. his conversation is like that of any other sensible man. he talks with no wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he thinks it does not become ------ ------ to sit in a company and say nothing.' mr. langton having repeated the anecdote of addison having distinguished between his powers in conversation and in writing, by saying 'i have only nine-pence in my pocket; but i can draw for a thousand pounds;'--johnson. 'he had not that retort ready, sir; he had prepared it before-hand.' langton. (turning to me,) 'a fine surmise. set a thief to catch a thief.' johnson. 'i shall be at home to-morrow.' boswell. 'then let us dine by ourselves at the mitre, to keep up the old custom, "the custom of the manor," the custom of the mitre.' johnson. 'sir, so it shall be.' on saturday, may , we fulfilled our purpose of dining by ourselves at the mitre, according to old custom. there was, on these occasions, a little circumstance of kind attention to mrs. williams, which must not be omitted. before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest. on tuesday, may , i waited on the earl of marchmont, to know if his lordship would favour dr. johnson with information concerning pope, whose life he was about to write. johnson had not flattered himself with the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he said to me, when i mentioned lord marchmont as one who could tell him a great deal about pope,--'sir, he will tell me nothing.' i had the honour of being known to his lordship, and applied to him of myself, without being commissioned by johnson. his lordship behaved in the most polite and obliging manner, promised to tell all he recollected about pope, and was so very courteous as to say, 'tell dr. johnson i have a great respect for him, and am ready to shew it in any way i can. i am to be in the city to-morrow, and will call at his house as i return.' his lordship however asked, 'will he write the lives of the poets impartially? he was the first that brought whig and tory into a dictionary. and what do you think of his definition of excise? do you know the history of his aversion to the word transpire?' then taking down the folio dictionary, he shewed it with this censure on its secondary sense: '"to escape from secrecy to notice; a sense lately innovated from france, without necessity." the truth was lord bolingbroke, who left the jacobites, first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. he should have shewn what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.' i afterwards put the question to johnson: 'why, sir, (said he,) get abroad.' boswell. 'that, sir, is using two words.' johnson. 'sir, there is no end of this. you may as well insist to have a word for old age.' boswell. 'well, sir, senectus.' johnson. 'nay, sir, to insist always that there should be one word to express a thing in english, because there is one in another language, is to change the language.' i proposed to lord marchmont that he should revise johnson's life of pope: 'so (said his lordship,) you would put me in a dangerous situation. you know he knocked down osborne the bookseller.' elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material and respectable aid to johnson for his very favourite work, the lives of the poets, i hastened down to mr. thrale's at streatham, where he now was, that i might insure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when i thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, i announced it eagerly: 'i have been at work for you to-day, sir. i have been with lord marchmont. he bade me tell you he has a great respect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all he knows about pope.'--here i paused, in full expectation that he would be pleased with this intelligence, would praise my active merit, and would be alert to embrace such an offer from a nobleman. but whether i had shewn an over-exultation, which provoked his spleen; or whether he was seized with a suspicion that i had obtruded him on lord marchmont, and humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, i know not; but, to my surprize, the result was,--johnson. 'i shall not be in town to-morrow. i don't care to know about pope.' mrs. thrale. (surprized as i was, and a little angry,) 'i suppose, sir, mr. boswell thought, that as you are to write pope's life, you would wish to know about him.' johnson. 'wish! why yes. if it rained knowledge i'd hold out my hand; but i would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.' there was no arguing with him at the moment. some time afterwards he said, 'lord marchmont will call on me, and then i shall call on lord marchmont.' mr. thrale was uneasy at his unaccountable caprice; and told me, that if i did not take care to bring about a meeting between lord marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity. i sent a card to his lordship, to be left at johnson's house, acquainting him, that dr. johnson could not be in town next day, but would do himself the honour of waiting on him at another time. i give this account fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy temper with which this great and good man had occasionally to struggle, from something morbid in his constitution. let the most censorious of my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone, and when in such a state to be asked a question; and if he has any candour, he will not be surprized at the answers which johnson sometimes gave in moments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely painful. but it must not be erroneously supposed that he was, in the smallest degree, careless concerning any work which he undertook, or that he was generally thus peevish. it will be seen, that in the following year he had a very agreeable interview with lord marchmont, at his lordship's house; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any fretfulness, and fell into conversation as usual. johnson. 'how foolish was it in pope to give all his friendship to lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to choose such lords as burlington, and cobham, and bolingbroke! bathurst was negative, a pleasing man; and i have heard no ill of marchmont; and then always saying, "i do not value you for being a lord;" which was a sure proof that he did. i never say, i do not value boswell more for being born to an estate, because i do not care.' boswell. 'nor for being a scotchman?' johnson. 'nay, sir, i do value you more for being a scotchman. you are a scotchman without the faults of a scotchman. you would not have been so valuable as you are, had you not been a scotchman.' amongst the numerous prints pasted on the walls of the dining-room at streatham, was hogarth's 'modern midnight conversation.' i asked him what he knew of parson ford, who makes a conspicuous figure in the riotous group. johnson. 'sir, he was my acquaintance and relation, my mother's nephew. he had purchased a living in the country, but not simoniacally. i never saw him but in the country. i have been told he was a man of great parts; very profligate, but i never heard he was impious.' boswell. 'was there not a story of his ghost having appeared?' johnson. 'sir, it was believed. a waiter at the hummums, in which house ford died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not knowing that ford was dead. going down to the cellar, according to the story, he met him; going down again he met him a second time. when he came up, he asked some of the people of the house what ford could be doing there. they told him ford was dead. the waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. when he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to some women from ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. he walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about st. paul's they lost him. he came back, and said he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, "then we are all undone!" dr. pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said, the evidence was irresistible. my wife went to the hummums; (it is a place where people get themselves cupped.) i believe she went with intention to hear about this story of ford. at first they were unwilling to tell her; but, after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was true. to be sure the man had a fever; and this vision may have been the beginning of it. but if the message to the women, and their behaviour upon it, were true as related, there was something supernatural. that rests upon his word; and there it remains.' i staid all this day* with him at streatham. he talked a great deal, in very good humour. * wednesday, may .--ed. looking at messrs. dilly's splendid edition of lord chesterfield's miscellaneous works, he laughed, and said, 'here now are two speeches ascribed to him, both of which were written by me: and the best of it is, they have found out that one is like demosthenes, and the other like cicero.' boswell. 'is not modesty natural?' johnson. 'i cannot say, sir, as we find no people quite in a state of nature; but i think the more they are taught, the more modest they are. the french are a gross, ill-bred, untaught people; a lady there will spit on the floor and rub it with her foot. what i gained by being in france was, learning to be better satisfied with my own country. time may be employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four almost in any way than in travelling; when you set travelling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is better to be sure; but how much more would a young man improve were he to study during those years. indeed, if a young man is wild, and must run after women and bad company, it is better this should be done abroad, as, on his return, he can break off such connections, and begin at home a new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make. how little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man who has travelled; how little to beauclerk!' boswell. 'what say you to lord ------?' johnson. 'i never but once heard him talk of what he had seen, and that was of a large serpent in one of the pyramids of egypt.' boswell. 'well, i happened to hear him tell the same thing, which made me mention him.' i talked of a country life. johnson. 'were i to live in the country, i would not devote myself to the acquisition of popularity; i would live in a much better way, much more happily; i would have my time at my own command.' boswell. 'but, sir, is it not a sad thing to be at a distance from all our literary friends?' johnson. 'sir, you will by and by have enough of this conversation, which now delights you so much.' as he was a zealous friend of subordination, he was at all times watchful to repress the vulgar cant against the manners of the great; 'high people, sir, (said he,) are the best; take a hundred ladies of quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers, more willing to sacrifice their own pleasure to their children than a hundred other women. tradeswomen (i mean the wives of tradesmen) in the city, who are worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are the worst creatures upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and thinking viciousness fashionable. farmers, i think, are often worthless fellows. few lords will cheat; and, if they do, they'll be ashamed of it: farmers cheat and are not ashamed of it: they have all the sensual vices too of the nobility, with cheating into the bargain. there is as much fornication and adultery among farmers as amongst noblemen.' boswell. 'the notion of the world, sir, however is, that the morals of women of quality are worse than those in lower stations.' johnson. 'yes, sir, the licentiousness of one woman of quality makes more noise than that of a number of women in lower stations; then, sir, you are to consider the malignity of women in the city against women of quality, which will make them believe any thing of them, such as that they call their coachmen to bed. no, sir, so far as i have observed, the higher in rank, the richer ladies are, they are the better instructed and the more virtuous.' on tuesday, may , i was to set out for scotland in the evening. he was engaged to dine with me at mr. dilly's, i waited upon him to remind him of his appointment and attend him thither; he gave me some salutary counsel, and recommended vigorous resolution against any deviation from moral duty. boswell. 'but you would not have me to bind myself by a solemn obligation?' johnson. (much agitated,) 'what! a vow--o, no, sir, a vow is a horrible thing, it is a snare for sin. the man who cannot go to heaven without a vow--may go--' here, standing erect, in the middle of his library, and rolling grand, his pause was truly a curious compound of the solemn and the ludicrous; he half-whistled in his usual way, when pleasant, and he paused, as if checked by religious awe. methought he would have added--to hell--but was restrained. i humoured the dilemma. 'what! sir, (said i,) in caelum jusseris ibit?' alluding to his imitation of it,-- 'and bid him go to hell, to hell he goes.' we had a quiet comfortable meeting at mr. dilly's; nobody there but ourselves. my illustrious friend and i parted with assurances of affectionate regard. mr. langton has been pleased, at my request, to favour me with some particulars of dr. johnson's visit to warley-camp, where this gentleman was at the time stationed as a captain in the lincolnshire militia. i shall give them in his own words in a letter to me. 'it was in the summer of the year , that he complied with my invitation to come down to the camp at warley, and he staid with me about a week; the scene appeared, notwithstanding a great degree of ill health that he seemed to labour under, to interest and amuse him, as agreeing with the disposition that i believe you know he constantly manifested towards enquiring into subjects of the military kind. he sate, with a patient degree of attention, to observe the proceedings of a regimental court-martial, that happened to be called, in the time of his stay with us; and one night, as late as at eleven o'clock, he accompanied the major of the regiment in going what are styled the rounds, where he might observe the forms of visiting the guards, for the seeing that they and their sentries are ready in their duty on their several posts. he took occasion to converse at times on military topicks, one in particular, that i see the mention of, in your journal of a tour to the hebrides, which lies open before me, as to gun-powder; which he spoke of to the same effect, in part, that you relate. 'on one occasion, when the regiment were going through their exercise, he went quite close to the men at one of the extremities of it, and watched all their practices attentively; and, when he came away, his remark was, "the men indeed do load their muskets and fire with wonderful celerity." he was likewise particular in requiring to know what was the weight of the musquet balls in use, and within what distance they might be expected to take effect when fired off. 'in walking among the tents, and observing the difference between those of the officers and private men, he said that the superiority of accommodation of the better conditions of life, to that of the inferiour ones, was never exhibited to him in so distinct a view. the civilities paid to him in the camp were, from the gentlemen of the lincolnshire regiment, one of the officers of which accommodated him with a tent in which he slept; and from general hall, who very courteously invited him to dine with him, where he appeared to be very well pleased with his entertainment, and the civilities he received on the part of the general; the attention likewise, of the general's aide-de-camp, captain smith, seemed to be very welcome to him, as appeared by their engaging in a great deal of discourse together.' we surely cannot but admire the benevolent exertions of this great and good man, especially when we consider how grievously he was afflicted with bad health, and how uncomfortable his home was made by the perpetual jarring of those whom he charitably accommodated under his roof. he has sometimes suffered me to talk jocularly of his group of females, and call them his seraglio. he thus mentions them, together with honest levett, in one of his letters to mrs. thrale: 'williams hates every body; levett hates desmoulins, and does not love williams; desmoulins hates them both; poll* loves none of them.'** * miss carmichael. ** a year later he wrote: at bolt-court there is much malignity, but of late little hostility.'--ed. in , johnson gave the world a luminous proof that the vigour of his mind in all its faculties, whether memory, judgement, or imagination, was not in the least abated; for this year came out the first four volumes of his prefaces, biographical and critical, to the most eminent of the english poets, published by the booksellers of london. the remaining volumes came out in the year . the poets were selected by the several booksellers who had the honorary copy right, which is still preserved among them by mutual compact, notwithstanding the decision of the house of lords against the perpetuity of literary property. we have his own authority, that by his recommendation the poems of blackmore, watts, pomfret, and yalden, were added to the collection. on the nd of january, i wrote to him on several topicks, and mentioned that as he had been so good as to permit me to have the proof sheets of his lives of the poets, i had written to his servant, francis, to take care of them for me. on the rd of february i wrote to him again, complaining of his silence, as i had heard he was ill, and had written to mr. thrale, for information concerning him; and i announced my intention of soon being again in london. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--why should you take such delight to make a bustle, to write to mr. thrale that i am negligent, and to francis to do what is so very unnecessary. thrale, you may be sure, cared not about it; and i shall spare francis the trouble, by ordering a set both of the lives and poets to dear mrs. boswell,* in acknowledgement of her marmalade. persuade her to accept them, and accept them kindly. if i thought she would receive them scornfully, i would send them to miss boswell, who, i hope, has yet none of her mamma's ill-will to me. . . . 'mrs. thrale waits in the coach. i am, dear sir, &c., 'march , .' 'sam. johnson.' * he sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, which was received as a very handsome present.--boswell this letter crossed me on the road to london, where i arrived on monday, march , and next morning at a late hour, found dr. johnson sitting over his tea, attended by mrs. desmoulins, mr. levett, and a clergyman, who had come to submit some poetical pieces to his revision. it is wonderful what a number and variety of writers, some of them even unknown to him, prevailed on his good-nature to look over their works, and suggest corrections and improvements. my arrival interrupted for a little while the important business of this true representative of bayes; upon its being resumed, i found that the subject under immediate consideration was a translation, yet in manuscript, of the carmen seculare of horace, which had this year been set to musick, and performed as a publick entertainment in london, for the joint benefit of monsieur philidor and signor baretti. when johnson had done reading, the authour asked him bluntly, 'if upon the whole it was a good translation?' johnson, whose regard for truth was uncommonly strict, seemed to be puzzled for a moment, what answer to make; as he certainly could not honestly commend the performance: with exquisite address he evaded the question thus, 'sir, i do not say that it may not be made a very good translation.' here nothing whatever in favour of the performance was affirmed, and yet the writer was not shocked. a printed ode to the warlike genius of britain, came next in review; the bard was a lank bony figure, with short black hair; he was writhing himself in agitation, while johnson read, and shewing his teeth in a grin of earnestness, exclaimed in broken sentences, and in a keen sharp tone, 'is that poetry, sir?--is it pindar?' johnson. 'why, sir, there is here a great deal of what is called poetry.' then, turning to me, the poet cried, 'my muse has not been long upon the town, and (pointing to the ode) it trembles under the hand of the great critick.' johnson, in a tone of displeasure, asked him, 'why do you praise anson?' i did not trouble him by asking his reason for this question. he proceeded, 'here is an errour, sir; you have made genius feminine.' 'palpable, sir; (cried the enthusiast,) i know it. but (in a lower tone,) it was to pay a compliment to the duchess of devonshire, with which her grace was pleased. she is walking across coxheath, in the military uniform, and i suppose her to be the genius of britain.' johnson. 'sir, you are giving a reason for it; but that will not make it right. you may have a reason why two and two should make five; but they will still make but four.' although i was several times with him in the course of the following days, such it seems were my occupations, or such my negligence, that i have preserved no memorial of his conversation till friday, march , when i visited him. he said he expected to be attacked on account of his lives of the poets. 'however (said he,) i would rather be attacked than unnoticed. for the worst thing you can do to an authour is to be silent as to his works. an assault upon a town is a bad thing; but starving it is still worse; an assault may be unsuccessful; you may have more men killed than you kill; but if you starve the town, you are sure of victory.' talking of a friend of ours associating with persons of very discordant principles and characters; i said he was a very universal man, quite a man of the world. johnson. 'yes, sir; but one may be so much a man of the world as to be nothing in the world. i remember a passage in goldsmith's vicar of wakefield, which he was afterwards fool enough to expunge: "i do not love a man who is zealous for nothing."' boswell. 'that was a fine passage.' johnson. 'yes, sir: there was another fine passage too, which be struck out: "when i was a young man, being anxious to distinguish myself, i was perpetually starting new propositions. but i soon gave this over; for, i found that generally what was new was false."' i said i did not like to sit with people of whom i had not a good opinion. johnson. 'but you must not indulge your delicacy too much; or you will be a tete-a-tete man all your life.' during my stay in london this spring, i find i was unaccountably negligent in preserving johnson's sayings, more so than at any time when i was happy enough to have an opportunity of hearing his wisdom and wit. there is no help for it now. i must content myself with presenting such scraps as i have. but i am nevertheless ashamed and vexed to think how much has been lost. it is not that there was a bad crop this year; but that i was not sufficiently careful in gathering it in. i, therefore, in some instances can only exhibit a few detached fragments. talking of the wonderful concealment of the authour of the celebrated letters signed junius; he said, 'i should have believed burke to be junius, because i know no man but burke who is capable of writing these letters; but burke spontaneously denied it to me. the case would have been different had i asked him if he was the authour; a man so questioned, as to an anonymous publication, may think he has a right to deny it.' on wednesday, march , when i visited him, and confessed an excess of which i had very seldom been guilty; that i had spent a whole night in playing at cards, and that i could not look back on it with satisfaction; instead of a harsh animadversion, he mildly said, 'alas, sir, on how few things can we look back with satisfaction.' on friday, april , being good-friday, i visited him in the morning as usual; and finding that we insensibly fell into a train of ridicule upon the foibles of one of our friends, a very worthy man, i, by way of a check, quoted some good admonition from the government of the tongue, that very pious book. it happened also remarkably enough, that the subject of the sermon preached to us to-day by dr. burrows, the rector of st. clement danes, was the certainty that at the last day we must give an account of 'the deeds done in the body;' and, amongst various acts of culpability he mentioned evil-speaking. as we were moving slowly along in the crowd from church, johnson jogged my elbow, and said, 'did you attend to the sermon?' 'yes, sir, (said i,) it was very applicable to us.' he, however, stood upon the defensive. 'why, sir, the sense of ridicule is given us, and may be lawfully used. the authour of the government of the tongue would have us treat all men alike.' in the interval between morning and evening service, he endeavoured to employ himself earnestly in devotional exercises; and as he has mentioned in his prayers and meditations, gave me les pensees de paschal, that i might not interrupt him. i preserve the book with reverence. his presenting it to me is marked upon it with his own hand, and i have found in it a truly divine unction. we went to church again in the afternoon. on wednesday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's. i have not marked what company was there. johnson harangued upon the qualities of different liquors; and spoke with great contempt of claret, as so weak, that a man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk.' he was persuaded to drink one glass of it, that he might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation. he shook his head, and said, 'poor stuff! no, sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling), must drink brandy. in the first place, the flavour of brandy is most grateful to the palate; and then brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking can do for him. there are, indeed, few who are able to drink brandy. that is a power rather to be wished for than attained. and yet, (proceeded he,) as in all pleasure hope is a considerable part, i know not but fruition comes too quick by brandy. florence wine i think the worst; it is wine only to the eye; it is wine neither while you are drinking it, nor after you have drunk it; it neither pleases the taste, nor exhilarates the spirits.' i reminded him how heartily he and i used to drink wine together, when we were first acquainted; and how i used to have a head-ache after sitting up with him. he did not like to have this recalled, or, perhaps, thinking that i boasted improperly, resolved to have a witty stroke at me: 'nay, sir, it was not the wine that made your head ache, but the sense that i put into it.' boswell. 'what, sir! will sense make the head ache?' johnson. 'yes, sir, (with a smile,) when it is not used to it.'--no man who has a true relish of pleasantry could be offended at this; especially if johnson in a long intimacy had given him repeated proofs of his regard and good estimation. i used to say, that as he had given me a thousand pounds in praise, he had a good right now and then to take a guinea from me. on thursday, april , i dined with him at mr. allan ramsay's, with lord graham and some other company. we talked of shakspeare's witches. johnson. 'they are beings of his own creation; they are a compound of malignity and meanness, without any abilities; and are quite different from the italian magician. king james says in his daemonology, 'magicians command the devils: witches are their servants. the italian magicians are elegant beings.' ramsay. 'opera witches, not drury-lane witches.' johnson observed, that abilities might be employed in a narrow sphere, as in getting money, which he said he believed no man could do, without vigorous parts, though concentrated to a point. ramsay. 'yes, like a strong horse in a mill; he pulls better.' lord graham, while he praised the beauty of lochlomond, on the banks of which is his family seat, complained of the climate, and said he could not bear it. johnson. 'nay, my lord, don't talk so: you may bear it well enough. your ancestors have borne it more years than i can tell.' this was a handsome compliment to the antiquity of the house of montrose. his lordship told me afterwards, that he had only affected to complain of the climate; lest, if he had spoken as favourably of his country as he really thought, dr. johnson might have attacked it. johnson was very courteous to lady margaret macdonald. 'madam, (said he,) when i was in the isle of sky, i heard of the people running to take the stones off the road, lest lady margaret's horse should stumble.' lord graham commended dr. drummond at naples, as a man of extraordinary talents; and added, that he had a great love of liberty. johnson. 'he is young, my lord; (looking to his lordship with an arch smile,) all boys love liberty, till experience convinces them they are not so fit to govern themselves as they imagined. we are all agreed as to our own liberty; we would have as much of it as we can get; but we are not agreed as to the liberty of others: for in proportion as we take, others must lose. i believe we hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to govern us. when that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty not to have candles in his windows.' ramsay. 'the result is, that order is better than confusion.' johnson. 'the result is, that order cannot be had but by subordination.' on friday, april , i had been present at the trial of the unfortunate mr. hackman, who, in a fit of frantick jealous love, had shot miss ray, the favourite of a nobleman. johnson, in whose company i dined to-day with some other friends, was much interested by my account of what passed, and particularly with his prayer for the mercy of heaven. he said, in a solemn fervid tone, 'i hope he shall find mercy.' this day a violent altercation arose between johnson and beauclerk, which having made much noise at the time, i think it proper, in order to prevent any future misrepresentation, to give a minute account of it. in talking of hackman, johnson argued, as judge blackstone had done, that his being furnished with two pistols was a proof that he meant to shoot two persons. mr. beauclerk said, 'no; for that every wise man who intended to shoot himself, took two pistols, that he might be sure of doing it at once. lord ------ ------' cook shot himself with one pistol, and lived ten days in great agony. mr. ------, who loved buttered muffins, but durst not eat them because they disagreed with his stomach, resolved to shoot himself; and then he eat three buttered muffins for breakfast, before shooting himself, knowing that he should not be troubled with indigestion: he had two charged pistols; one was found lying charged upon the table by him, after he had shot himself with the other.' 'well, (said johnson, with an air of triumph,) you see here one pistol was sufficient.' beauclerk replied smartly, 'because it happened to kill him.' and either then or a very little afterwards, being piqued at johnson's triumphant remark, added, 'this is what you don't know, and i do.' there was then a cessation of the dispute; and some minutes intervened, during which, dinner and the glass went on cheerfully; when johnson suddenly and abruptly exclaimed, 'mr. beauclerk, how came you to talk so petulantly to me, as "this is what you don't know, but what i know"? one thing i know, which you don't seem to know, that you are very uncivil.' beauclerk. 'because you began by being uncivil, (which you always are.)' the words in parenthesis were, i believe, not heard by dr. johnson. here again there was a cessation of arms. johnson told me, that the reason why he waited at first some time without taking any notice of what mr. beauclerk said, was because he was thinking whether he should resent it. but when he considered that there were present a young lord and an eminent traveller, two men of the world with whom he had never dined before, he was apprehensive that they might think they had a right to take such liberties with him as beauclerk did, and therefore resolved he would not let it pass; adding, that 'he would not appear a coward.' a little while after this, the conversation turned on the violence of hackman's temper. johnson then said, 'it was his business to command his temper, as my friend, mr. beauclerk, should have done some time ago.' beauclerk. 'i should learn of you, sir.' johnson. 'sir, you have given me opportunities enough of learning, when i have been in your company. no man loves to be treated with contempt.' beauclerk. (with a polite inclination towards johnson,) 'sir, you have known me twenty years, and however i may have treated others, you may be sure i could never treat you with contempt.' johnson. 'sir, you have said more than was necessary.' thus it ended; and beauclerk's coach not having come for him till very late, dr. johnson and another gentleman sat with him a long time after the rest of the company were gone; and he and i dined at beauclerk's on the saturday se'nnight following. after this tempest had subsided, i recollect the following particulars of his conversation:-- 'i am always for getting a boy forward in his learning; for that is a sure good. i would let him at first read any english book which happens to engage his attention; because you have done a great deal when you have brought him to have entertainment from a book. he'll get better books afterwards.' 'to be contradicted, in order to force you to talk, is mighty unpleasing. you shine, indeed; but it is by being ground.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at mr. beauclerk's, with sir joshua reynolds, mr. jones, (afterwards sir william,) mr. langton, mr. steevens, mr. paradise, and dr. higgins. i mentioned that mr. wilkes had attacked garrick to me, as a man who had no friend. 'i believe he is right, sir. [greek text omitted]--he had friends, but no friend. garrick was so diffused, he had no man to whom he wished to unbosom himself. he found people always ready to applaud him, and that always for the same thing: so he saw life with great uniformity.' i took upon me, for once, to fight with goliath's weapons, and play the sophist.--garrick did not need a friend, as he got from every body all he wanted. what is a friend? one who supports you and comforts you, while others do not. friendship, you know, sir, is the cordial drop, "to make the nauseous draught of life go down:" but if the draught be not nauseous, if it be all sweet, there is no occasion for that drop.' johnson. 'many men would not be content to live so. i hope i should not. they would wish to have an intimate friend, with whom they might compare minds, and cherish private virtues. one of the company mentioned lord chesterfield, as a man who had no friend. johnson. 'there were more materials to make friendship in garrick, had he not been so diffused.' boswell. 'garrick was pure gold, but beat out to thin leaf. lord chesterfield was tinsel.' johnson. 'garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his age; a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely, money acquired by himself. he began the world with a great hunger for money; the son of a half-pay officer, bred in a family, whose study was to make four-pence do as much as others made four-pence halfpenny do. but, when he had got money, he was very liberal.' i presumed to animadvert on his eulogy on garrick, in his lives of the poets. 'you say, sir, his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' johnson. 'i could not have said more nor less. it is the truth; eclipsed, not extinguished; and his death did eclipse; it was like a storm.' boswell. 'but why nations? did his gaiety extend farther than his own nation?' johnson. 'why, sir, some exaggeration must be allowed. besides, nations may be said--if we allow the scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety,--which they have not. you are an exception, though. come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one scotchman who is cheerful.' beauclerk. 'but he is a very unnatural scotchman.' i, however, continued to think the compliment to garrick hyperbolically untrue. his acting had ceased some time before his death; at any rate he had acted in ireland but a short time, at an early period of his life, and never in scotland. i objected also to what appears an anticlimax of praise, when contrasted with the preceding panegyrick,--'and diminished the public stock of harmless pleasure!'--'is not harmless pleasure very tame?' johnson. 'nay, sir, harmless pleasure is the highest praise. pleasure is a word of dubious import; pleasure is in general dangerous, and pernicious to virtue; to be able therefore to furnish pleasure that is harmless, pleasure pure and unalloyed, is as great a power as man can possess.' this was, perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could be made; still, however, i was not satisfied. talking of celebrated and successful irregular practisers in physick; he said, 'taylor was the most ignorant man i ever knew; but sprightly. ward the dullest. taylor challenged me once to talk latin with him; (laughing). i quoted some of horace, which he took to be a part of my own speech. he said a few words well enough.' beauclerk. 'i remember, sir, you said that taylor was an instance how far impudence could carry ignorance.' mr. beauclerk was very entertaining this day, and told us a number of short stories in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of the world which has i know not what impressive effect, as if there were something more than is expressed, or than perhaps we could perfectly understand. as johnson and i accompanied sir joshua reynolds in his coach, johnson said, 'there is in beauclerk a predominance over his company, that one does not like. but he is a man who has lived so much in the world, that he has a short story on every occasion; he is always ready to talk, and is never exhausted.' soon after this time a little incident occurred, which i will not suppress, because i am desirous that my work should be, as much as is consistent with the strictest truth, an antidote to the false and injurious notions of his character, which have been given by others, and therefore i infuse every drop of genuine sweetness into my biographical cup. 'to dr. johnson. 'my dear sir,--i am in great pain with an inflamed foot, and obliged to keep my bed, so am prevented from having the pleasure to dine at mr. ramsay's to-day, which is very hard; and my spirits are sadly sunk. will you be so friendly as to come and sit an hour with me in the evening. i am ever your most faithful, and affectionate humble servant, 'south audley-street, monday, april .' 'james boswell.' 'to mr. boswell. 'mr. johnson laments the absence of mr. boswell, and will come to him.--harley-street.' he came to me in the evening, and brought sir joshua reynolds. i need scarcely say, that their conversation, while they sate by my bedside, was the most pleasing opiate to pain that could have been administered. johnson being now better disposed to obtain information concerning pope than he was last year, sent by me to my lord marchmont a present of those volumes of his lives of the poets which were at this time published, with a request to have permission to wait on him; and his lordship, who had called on him twice, obligingly appointed saturday, the first of may, for receiving us. on that morning johnson came to me from streatham, and after drinking chocolate at general paoli's, in south-audley-street, we proceeded to lord marchmont's in curzon-street. his lordship met us at the door of his library, and with great politeness said to johnson, 'i am not going to make an encomium upon myself, by telling you the high respect i have for you, sir.' johnson was exceedingly courteous; and the interview, which lasted about two hours, during which the earl communicated his anecdotes of pope, was as agreeable as i could have wished. when we came out, i said to johnson, that considering his lordship's civility, i should have been vexed if he had again failed to come. 'sir, (said he,) i would rather have given twenty pounds than not have come.' i accompanied him to streatham, where we dined, and returned to town in the evening. he had, before i left london, resumed the conversation concerning the appearance of a ghost at newcastle upon tyne, which mr. john wesley believed, but to which johnson did not give credit. i was, however, desirous to examine the question closely, and at the same time wished to be made acquainted with mr. john wesley; for though i differed from him in some points, i admired his various talents, and loved his pious zeal. at my request, therefore, dr. johnson gave me a letter of introduction to him. 'to the reverend mr. john wesley. 'sir,--mr. boswell, a gentleman who has been long known to me, is desirous of being known to you, and has asked this recommendation, which i give him with great willingness, because i think it very much to be wished that worthy and religious men should be acquainted with each other. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' mr. wesley being in the course of his ministry at edinburgh, i presented this letter to him, and was very politely received. i begged to have it returned to me, which was accordingly done. his state of the evidence as to the ghost did not satisfy me. my readers will not be displeased at being told every slight circumstance of the manner in which dr. johnson contrived to amuse his solitary hours. he sometimes employed himself in chymistry, sometimes in watering and pruning a vine, sometimes in small experiments, at which those who may smile, should recollect that there are moments which admit of being soothed only by trifles.* * in one of his manuscript diaries, there is the following entry, which marks his curious minute attention: 'july , . i shaved my nail by accident in whetting the knife, about an eighth of an inch from the bottom, and about a fourth from the top. this i measure that i may know the growth of nails; the whole is about five eighths of an inch.' another of the same kind appears, 'aug. , , partem brachii dextri carpo proximum et cutem pectoris circa mamillam dextram rasi, ut notum fieret quanto temporis pili renovarentur.' and, 'aug. , . i cut from the vine leaves, which weighed five oz. and a half, and eight scruples:--i lay them upon my bookcase, to see what weight they will lose by drying.'--boswell. my friend colonel james stuart, second son of the earl of bute, who had distinguished himself as a good officer of the bedfordshire militia, had taken a publick-spirited resolution to serve his country in its difficulties, by raising a regular regiment, and taking the command of it himself. this, in the heir of the immense property of wortley, was highly honourable. having been in scotland recruiting, he obligingly asked me to accompany him to leeds, then the head-quarters of his corps; from thence to london for a short time, and afterwards to other places to which the regiment might be ordered. such an offer, at a time of the year when i had full leisure, was very pleasing; especially as i was to accompany a man of sterling good sense, information, discernment, and conviviality; and was to have a second crop in one year of london and johnson. of this i informed my illustrious friend, in characteristical warm terms, in a letter dated the th of september, from leeds. on monday, october , i called at his house before he was up. he sent for me to his bedside, and expressed his satisfaction at this incidental meeting, with as much vivacity as if he had been in the gaiety of youth. he called briskly, 'frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfast in splendour.' on sunday, october , we dined together at mr. strahan's. the conversation having turned on the prevailing practice of going to the east-indies in quest of wealth;--johnson. 'a man had better have ten thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in england, than twenty thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in india, because you must compute what you give for money; and a man who has lived ten years in india, has given up ten years of social comfort and all those advantages which arise from living in england. the ingenious mr. brown, distinguished by the name of capability brown, told me, that he was once at the seat of lord clive, who had returned from india with great wealth; and that he shewed him at the door of his bed-chamber a large chest, which he said he had once had full of gold; upon which brown observed, "i am glad you can bear it so near your bed-chamber."' we talked of the state of the poor in london.--johnson. 'saunders welch, the justice, who was once high-constable of holborn, and had the best opportunities of knowing the state of the poor, told me, that i under-rated the number, when i computed that twenty a week, that is, above a thousand a year, died of hunger; not absolutely of immediate hunger; but of the wasting and other diseases which are the consequences of hunger. this happens only in so large a place as london, where people are not known. what we are told about the great sums got by begging is not true: the trade is overstocked. and, you may depend upon it, there are many who cannot get work. a particular kind of manufacture fails: those who have been used to work at it, can, for some time, work at nothing else. you meet a man begging; you charge him with idleness: he says, "i am willing to labour. will you give me work?"--"i cannot."--"why, then you have no right to charge me with idleness."' we left mr. strahan's at seven, as johnson had said he intended to go to evening prayers. as we walked along, he complained of a little gout in his toe, and said, 'i shan't go to prayers to-night; i shall go to-morrow: whenever i miss church on a sunday, i resolve to go another day. but i do not always do it.' this was a fair exhibition of that vibration between pious resolutions and indolence, which many of us have too often experienced. i went home with him, and we had a long quiet conversation. boswell. 'why, sir, do people play this trick which i observe now, when i look at your grate, putting the shovel against it to make the fire burn?' johnson. 'they play the trick, but it does not make the fire burn. there is a better; (setting the poker perpendicularly up at right angles with the grate.) in days of superstition they thought, as it made a cross with the bars, it would drive away the witch.' boswell. 'by associating with you, sir, i am always getting an accession of wisdom. but perhaps a man, after knowing his own character--the limited strength of his own mind, should not be desirous of having too much wisdom, considering, quid valeant humeri, how little he can carry.' johnson. 'sir, be as wise as you can; let a man be aliis laetus, sapiens sibi: "though pleas'd to see the dolphins play, i mind my compass and my way." you may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in company at a tavern in the evening. every man is to take care of his own wisdom and his own virtue, without minding too much what others think.' he said, 'dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of an english dictionary; but i had long thought of it.' boswell. 'you did not know what you were undertaking.' johnson. 'yes, sir, i knew very well what i was undertaking,--and very well how to do it,--and have done it very well.' boswell. 'an excellent climax! and it has availed you. in your preface you say, "what would it avail me in this gloom of solitude?" you have been agreeably mistaken.' in his life of milton he observes, 'i cannot but remark a kind of respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great man by his biographers: every house in which he resided is historically mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that he honoured by his presence.' i had, before i read this observation, been desirous of shewing that respect to johnson, by various inquiries. finding him this evening in a very good humour, i prevailed on him to give me an exact list of his places of residence, since he entered the metropolis as an authour, which i subjoin in a note.* * . exeter-street, off catherine-street, strand. . greenwich. . woodstock-street, near hanover-square. . castle-street, cavendish-square, no. . . strand. . boswell-court. . strand, again. . bow-street. . holborn. . fetter-lane. . holborn, again. . gough-square. . staple inn. . gray's inn. . inner temple-lane, no. . . johnson's-court, no. . . bolt-court. no. .--boswell. on tuesday, october , i dined with him at mr. ramsay's, with lord newhaven, and some other company, none of whom i recollect, but a beautiful miss graham, a relation of his lordship's, who asked dr. johnson to hob or nob with her. he was flattered by such pleasing attention, and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if she would drink a glass of water, he was much at her service. she accepted. 'oho, sir! (said lord newhaven,) you are caught.' johnson. 'nay, i do not see how i am caught; but if i am caught, i don't want to get free again. if i am caught, i hope to be kept.' then when the two glasses of water were brought, smiling placidly to the young lady, he said, 'madam, let us reciprocate.' lord newhaven and johnson carried on an argument for some time, concerning the middlesex election. johnson said, 'parliament may be considered as bound by law as a man is bound where there is nobody to tie the knot. as it is clear that the house of commons may expel and expel again and again, why not allow of the power to incapacitate for that parliament, rather than have a perpetual contest kept up between parliament and the people.' lord newhaven took the opposite side; but respectfully said, 'i speak with great deference to you, dr. johnson; i speak to be instructed.' this had its full effect on my friend. he bowed his head almost as low as the table, to a complimenting nobleman; and called out, 'my lord, my lord, i do not desire all this ceremony; let us tell our minds to one another quietly.' after the debate was over, he said, 'i have got lights on the subject to-day, which i had not before.' this was a great deal from him, especially as he had written a pamphlet upon it. of his fellow-collegian, the celebrated mr. george whitefield, he said, 'whitefield never drew as much attention as a mountebank does; he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was strange. were astley to preach a sermon standing upon his head on a horse's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wise man would say he had made a better sermon for that. i never treated whitefield's ministry with contempt; i believe he did good. he had devoted himself to the lower classes of mankind, and among them he was of use. but when familiarity and noise claim the praise due to knowledge, art, and elegance, we must beat down such pretensions.' what i have preserved of his conversation during the remainder of my stay in london at this time, is only what follows: i told him that when i objected to keeping company with a notorious infidel, a celebrated friend of ours said to me, 'i do not think that men who live laxly in the world, as you and i do, can with propriety assume such an authority. dr. johnson may, who is uniformly exemplary in his conduct. but it is not very consistent to shun an infidel to-day, and get drunk to-morrow.' johnson. 'nay, sir, this is sad reasoning. because a man cannot be right in all things, is he to be right in nothing? because a man sometimes gets drunk, is he therefore to steal? this doctrine would very soon bring a man to the gallows.' he, i know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aversion to go to ireland, where i proposed to him that we should make a tour. johnson. 'it is the last place where i should wish to travel.' boswell. 'should you not like to see dublin, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir! dublin is only a worse capital.' boswell. 'is not the giant's-causeway worth seeing?' johnson. 'worth seeing? yes; but not worth going to see.' yet he had a kindness for the irish nation, and thus generously expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, on the subject of an union which artful politicians have often had in view--'do not make an union with us, sir. we should unite with you, only to rob you. we should have robbed the scotch, if they had had any thing of which we could have robbed them.' of an acquaintance of ours, whose manners and every thing about him, though expensive, were coarse, he said, 'sir, you see in him vulgar prosperity.' a foreign minister of no very high talents, who had been in his company for a considerable time quite overlooked, happened luckily to mention that he had read some of his rambler in italian, and admired it much. this pleased him greatly; he observed that the title had been translated, il genio errante, though i have been told it was rendered more ludicrously, il vagabondo; and finding that this minister gave such a proof of his taste, he was all attention to him, and on the first remark which he made, however simple, exclaimed, 'the ambassadour says well--his excellency observes--' and then he expanded and enriched the little that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared something of consequence. this was exceedingly entertaining to the company who were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a pleasant topick of merriment: 'the ambassadour says well,' became a laughable term of applause, when no mighty matter had been expressed. i left london on monday, october , and accompanied colonel stuart to chester, where his regiment was to lye for some time. : aetat. .]--in , the world was kept in impatience for the completion of his lives of the poets, upon which he was employed so far as his indolence allowed him to labour. his friend dr. lawrence having now suffered the greatest affliction to which a man is liable, and which johnson himself had felt in the most severe manner; johnson wrote to him in an admirable strain of sympathy and pious consolation. 'to dr. lawrence. 'dear sir,--at a time when all your friends ought to shew their kindness, and with a character which ought to make all that know you your friends, you may wonder that you have yet heard nothing from me. 'i have been hindered by a vexatious and incessant cough, for which within these ten days i have been bled once, fasted four or five times, taken physick five times, and opiates, i think, six. this day it seems to remit. 'the loss, dear sir, which you have lately suffered, i felt many years ago, and know therefore how much has been taken from you, and how little help can be had from consolation. he that outlives a wife whom he has long loved, sees himself disjoined from the only mind that has the same hopes, and fears, and interest; from the only companion with whom he has shared much good or evil; and with whom he could set his mind at liberty, to retrace the past or anticipate the future. the continuity of being is lacerated; the settled course of sentiment and action is stopped; and life stands suspended and motionless, till it is driven by external causes into a new channel. but the time of suspense is dreadful. 'our first recourse in this distressed solitude, is, perhaps for want of habitual piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in necessity. of two mortal beings, one must lose the other; but surely there is a higher and better comfort to be drawn from the consideration of that providence which watches over all, and a belief that the living and the dead are equally in the hands of god, who will reunite those whom he has separated; or who sees that it is best not to reunite. i am, dear sir, your most affectionate, and most humble servant, 'january , .' 'sam. johnson.' on the nd of may i wrote to him, and requested that we might have another meeting somewhere in the north of england, in the autumn of this year. from mr. langton i received soon after this time a letter, of which i extract a passage, relative both to mr. beauclerk and dr. johnson. 'the melancholy information you have received concerning mr. beauclerk's death is true. had his talents been directed in any sufficient degree as they ought, i have always been strongly of opinion that they were calculated to make an illustrious figure; and that opinion, as it had been in part formed upon dr. johnson's judgment, receives more and more confirmation by hearing what, since his death, dr. johnson has said concerning them; a few evenings ago, he was at mr. vesey's, where lord althorpe, who was one of a numerous company there, addressed dr. johnson on the subject of mr. beauclerk's death, saying, "our club has had a great loss since we met last." he replied, "a loss, that perhaps the whole nation could not repair!" the doctor then went on to speak of his endowments, and particularly extolled the wonderful ease with which he uttered what was highly excellent. he said, that "no man ever was so free when he was going to say a good thing, from a look that expressed that it was coming; or, when he had said it, from a look that expressed that it had come." at mr. thrale's, some days before when we were talking on the same subject, he said, referring to the same idea of his wonderful facility, "that beauclerk's talents were those which he had felt himself more disposed to envy, than those of any whom he had known." 'on the evening i have spoken of above, at mr. vesey's, you would have been much gratified, as it exhibited an instance of the high importance in which dr. johnson's character is held, i think even beyond any i ever before was witness to. the company consisted chiefly of ladies, among whom were the duchess dowager of portland, the duchess of beaufort, whom i suppose from her rank i must name before her mother mrs. boscawen, and her elder sister mrs. lewson, who was likewise there; lady lucan, lady clermont, and others of note both for their station and understandings. among the gentlemen were lord althorpe, whom i have before named, lord macartney, sir joshua reynolds, lord lucan, mr. wraxal, whose book you have probably seen, the tour to the northern parts of europe; a very agreeable ingenious man; dr. warren, mr. pepys, the master in chancery, whom i believe you know, and dr. barnard, the provost of eton. as soon as dr. johnson was come in and had taken a chair, the company began to collect round him, till they became not less than four, if not five, deep; those behind standing, and listening over the heads of those that were sitting near him. the conversation for some time was chiefly between dr. johnson and the provost of eton, while the others contributed occasionally their remarks.' on his birth-day, johnson has this note: 'i am now beginning the seventy-second year of my life, with more strength of body, and greater vigour of mind, than i think is common at that age.' but still he complains of sleepless nights and idle days, and forgetfulness, or neglect of resolutions. he thus pathetically expresses himself,--'surely i shall not spend my whole life with my own total disapprobation.' mr. macbean, whom i have mentioned more than once, as one of johnson's humble friends, a deserving but unfortunate man, being now oppressed by age and poverty, johnson solicited the lord chancellor thurlow, to have him admitted into the charterhouse. i take the liberty to insert his lordship's answer, as i am eager to embrace every occasion of augmenting the respectable notion which should ever be entertained of my illustrious friend:-- 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'london, october , . 'sir, 'i have this moment received your letter, dated the th, and returned from bath. 'in the beginning of the summer i placed one in the chartreux, without the sanction of a recommendation so distinct and so authoritative as yours of macbean; and i am afraid, that according to the establishment of the house, the opportunity of making the charity so good amends will not soon recur. but whenever a vacancy shall happen, if you'll favour me with notice of it, i will try to recommend him to the place, even though it should not be my turn to nominate. i am, sir, with great regard, your most faithful and obedient servant, 'thurlow.' being disappointed in my hopes of meeting johnson this year, so that i could hear none of his admirable sayings, i shall compensate for this want by inserting a collection of them, for which i am indebted to my worthy friend mr. langton, whose kind communications have been separately interwoven in many parts of this work. very few articles of this collection were committed to writing by himself, he not having that habit; which he regrets, and which those who know the numerous opportunities he had of gathering the rich fruits of johnsonian wit and wisdom, must ever regret. i however found, in conversations with him, that a good store of johnsoniana was treasured in his mind; and i compared it to herculaneum, or some old roman field, which when dug, fully rewards the labour employed. the authenticity of every article is unquestionable. for the expression, i, who wrote them down in his presence, am partly answerable. 'there is nothing more likely to betray a man into absurdity than condescension; when he seems to suppose his understanding too powerful for his company.' 'having asked mr. langton if his father and mother had sat for their pictures, which he thought it right for each generation of a family to do, and being told they had opposed it, he said, "sir, among the anfractuosities of the human mind, i know not if it may not be one, that there is a superstitious reluctance to sit for a picture."' 'john gilbert cooper related, that soon after the publication of his dictionary, garrick being asked by johnson what people said of it, told him, that among other animadversions, it was objected that he cited authorities which were beneath the dignity of such a work, and mentioned richardson. "nay, (said johnson,) i have done worse than that: i have cited thee, david."' 'when in good humour he would talk of his own writings with a wonderful frankness and candour, and would even criticise them with the closest severity. one day, having read over one of his ramblers, mr. langton asked him, how he liked that paper; he shook his head, and answered, "too wordy." at another time, when one was reading his tragedy of irene to a company at a house in the country, he left the room; and somebody having asked him the reason of this, he replied, "sir, i thought it had been better."' 'he related, that he had once in a dream a contest of wit with some other person, and that he was very much mortified by imagining that his opponent had the better of him. "now, (said he,) one may mark here the effect of sleep in weakening the power of reflection; for had not my judgement failed me, i should have seen, that the wit of this supposed antagonist, by whose superiority i felt myself depressed, was as much furnished by me, as that which i thought i had been uttering in my own character."' 'of sir joshua reynolds, he said, "sir, i know no man who has passed through life with more observation than reynolds."' 'he repeated to mr. langton, with great energy, in the greek, our saviour's gracious expression concerning the forgiveness of mary magdalen, '[greek text omitted]. "thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace." he said, "the manner of this dismission is exceedingly affecting."' 'talking of the farce of high life below stairs, he said, "here is a farce, which is really very diverting when you see it acted; and yet one may read it, and not know that one has been reading any thing at all."' 'he used at one time to go occasionally to the green room of drury-lane theatre, where he was much regarded by the players, and was very easy and facetious with them. he had a very high opinion of mrs. clive's comick powers, and conversed more with her than with any of them. he said, "clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always understands what you say." and she said of him, "i love to sit by dr. johnson; he always entertains me." one night, when the recruiting officer was acted, he said to mr. holland, who had been expressing an apprehension that dr. johnson would disdain the works of farquhar; "no, sir, i think farquhar a man whose writings have considerable merit."' 'his friend garrick was so busy in conducting the drama, that they could not have so much intercourse as mr. garrick used to profess an anxious wish that there should be. there might, indeed, be something in the contemptuous severity as to the merit of acting, which his old preceptor nourished in himself, that would mortify garrick after the great applause which he received from the audience. for though johnson said of him, "sir, a man who has a nation to admire him every night, may well be expected to be somewhat elated;" yet he would treat theatrical matters with a ludicrous slight. he mentioned one evening, "i met david coming off the stage, drest in a woman's riding-hood, when he acted in the wonder; i came full upon him, and i believe he was not pleased."' 'once he asked tom davies, whom he saw drest in a fine suit of clothes, "and what art thou to-night?" tom answered, "the thane of ross;" (which it will be recollected is a very inconsiderable character.) "o brave!" said johnson. 'of mr. longley, at rochester, a gentleman of very considerable learning, whom dr. johnson met there, he said, "my heart warms towards him. i was surprised to find in him such a nice acquaintance with the metre in the learned languages; though i was somewhat mortified that i had it not so much to myself, as i should have thought."' 'talking of the minuteness with which people will record the sayings of eminent persons, a story was told, that when pope was on a visit to spence at oxford, as they looked from the window they saw a gentleman commoner, who was just come in from riding, amusing himself with whipping at a post. pope took occasion to say, "that young gentleman seems to have little to do." mr. beauclerk observed, "then, to be sure, spence turned round and wrote that down;" and went on to say to dr. johnson, "pope, sir, would have said the same of you, if he had seen you distilling." johnson. "sir, if pope had told me of my distilling, i would have told him of his grotto."' 'he would allow no settled indulgence of idleness upon principle, and always repelled every attempt to urge excuses for it. a friend one day suggested, that it was not wholesome to study soon after dinner. johnson. "ah, sir, don't give way to such a fancy. at one time of my life i had taken it into my head that it was not wholesome to study between breakfast and dinner."' 'dr. goldsmith, upon occasion of mrs. lennox's bringing out a play, said to dr. johnson at the club, that a person had advised him to go and hiss it, because she had attacked shakspeare in her book called shakspeare illustrated. johnson. "and did not you tell him he was a rascal?" goldsmith. "no, sir, i did not. perhaps he might not mean what he said." johnson. "nay, sir, if he lied, it is a different thing." colman slily said, (but it is believed dr. johnson did not hear him,) "then the proper expression should have been,--sir, if you don't lie, you're a rascal."' 'his affection for topham beauclerk was so great, that when beauclerk was labouring under that severe illness which at last occasioned his death, johnson said, (with a voice faultering with emotion,) "sir, i would walk to the extent of the diameter of the earth to save beauclerk."' 'johnson was well acquainted with mr. dossie, authour of a treatise on agriculture; and said of him, "sir, of the objects which the society of arts have chiefly in view, the chymical effects of bodies operating upon other bodies, he knows more than almost any man." johnson, in order to give mr. dossie his vote to be a member of this society, paid up an arrear which had run on for two years. on this occasion he mentioned a circumstance as characteristick of the scotch. "one of that nation, (said he,) who had been a candidate, against whom i had voted, came up to me with a civil salutation. now, sir, this is their way. an englishman would have stomached it, and been sulky, and never have taken further notice of you; but a scotchman, sir, though you vote nineteen times against him, will accost you with equal complaisance after each time, and the twentieth time, sir, he will get your vote."' 'talking on the subject of toleration, one day when some friends were with him in his study, he made his usual remark, that the state has a right to regulate the religion of the people, who are the children of the state. a clergyman having readily acquiesced in this, johnson, who loved discussion, observed, "but, sir, you must go round to other states than your own. you do not know what a bramin has to say for himself. in short, sir, i have got no further than this: every man has a right to utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down for it. martyrdom is the test."' 'goldsmith one day brought to the club a printed ode, which he, with others, had been hearing read by its authour in a publick room at the rate of five shillings each for admission. one of the company having read it aloud, dr. johnson said, "bolder words and more timorous meaning, i think never were brought together." 'talking of gray's odes, he said, "they are forced plants raised in a hot-bed; and they are poor plants; they are but cucumbers after all." a gentleman present, who had been running down ode-writing in general, as a bad species of poetry, unluckily said, "had they been literally cucumbers, they had been better things than odes."--"yes, sir, (said johnson,) for a hog."' 'it is very remarkable, that he retained in his memory very slight and trivial, as well as important things. as an instance of this, it seems that an inferiour domestick of the duke of leeds had attempted to celebrate his grace's marriage in such homely rhimes as he could make; and this curious composition having been sung to dr. johnson he got it by heart, and used to repeat it in a very pleasant manner. two of the stanzas were these:-- "when the duke of leeds shall married be to a fine young lady of high quality, how happy will that gentlewoman be in his grace of leeds's good company. she shall have all that's fine and fair, and the best of silk and satin shall wear; and ride in a coach to take the air, and have a house in st. james's-square." to hear a man, of the weight and dignity of johnson, repeating such humble attempts at poetry, had a very amusing effect. he, however, seriously observed of the last stanza repeated by him, that it nearly comprized all the advantages that wealth can give. 'an eminent foreigner, when he was shewn the british museum, was very troublesome with many absurd inquiries. "now there, sir, (said he,) is the difference between an englishman and a frenchman. a frenchman must be always talking, whether he knows any thing of the matter or not; an englishman is content to say nothing, when he has nothing to say." 'his unjust contempt for foreigners was, indeed, extreme. one evening, at old slaughter's coffee-house, when a number of them were talking loud about little matters, he said, "does not this confirm old meynell's observation--for any thing i see, foreigners are fools."' 'he said, that once, when he had a violent tooth-ache, a frenchman accosted him thus:--"ah, monsieur vous etudiez trop."' 'colman, in a note on his translation of terence, talking of shakspeare's learning, asks, "what says farmer to this? what says johnson?" upon this he observed, "sir, let farmer answer for himself: i never engaged in this controversy. i always said, shakspeare had latin enough to grammaticise his english."' 'a clergyman, whom he characterised as one who loved to say little oddities, was affecting one day, at a bishop's table, a sort of slyness and freedom not in character, and repeated, as if part of the old man's wish, a song by dr. walter pope, a verse bordering on licentiousness. johnson rebuked him in the finest manner, by first shewing him that he did not know the passage he was aiming at, and thus humbling him: "sir, that is not the song: it is thus." and he gave it right. then looking stedfastly on him, "sir, there is a part of that song which i should wish to exemplify in my own life:-- "may i govern my passions with absolute sway!"' 'he used frequently to observe, that men might be very eminent in a profession, without our perceiving any particular power of mind in them in conversation. "it seems strange (said he,) that a man should see so far to the right, who sees so short a way to the left. burke is the only man whose common conversation corresponds with the general fame which he has in the world. take up whatever topick you please, he is ready to meet you."' 'mr. langton, when a very young man, read dodsley's cleone, a tragedy, to him, not aware of his extreme impatience to be read to. as it went on he turned his face to the back of his chair, and put himself into various attitudes, which marked his uneasiness. at the end of an act, however, he said, "come let's have some more, let's go into the slaughter-house again, lanky. but i am afraid there is more blood than brains." 'snatches of reading (said he,) will not make a bentley or a clarke. they are, however, in a certain degree advantageous. i would put a child into a library (where no unfit books are) and let him read at his choice. a child should not be discouraged from reading any thing that he takes a liking to, from a notion that it is above his reach. if that be the ease, the child will soon find it out and desist; if not, he of course gains the instruction; which is so much the more likely to come, from the inclination with which he takes up the study.' 'a gentleman who introduced his brother to dr. johnson was earnest to recommend him to the doctor's notice, which he did by saying, "when we have sat together some time, you'll find my brother grow very entertaining."--"sir, (said johnson,) i can wait."' 'in the latter part of his life, in order to satisfy himself whether his mental faculties were impaired, he resolved that he would try to learn a new language, and fixed upon the low dutch, for that purpose, and this he continued till he had read about one half of thomas a kempis; and finding that there appeared no abatement of his power of acquisition, he then desisted, as thinking the experiment had been duly tried.' 'mr. langton and he having gone to see a freemason's funeral procession, when they were at rochester, and some solemn musick being played on french horns, he said, "this is the first time that i have ever been affected by musical sounds;" adding, "that the impression made upon him was of a melancholy kind." mr. langton saying, that this effect was a fine one,--johnson. "yes, if it softens the mind, so as to prepare it for the reception of salutary feelings, it may be good: but inasmuch as it is melancholy per se, it is bad."' 'goldsmith had long a visionary project, that some time or other when his circumstances should be easier, he would go to aleppo, in order to acquire a knowledge as far as might be of any arts peculiar to the east, and introduce them into britain. when this was talked of in dr. johnson's company, he said, "of all men goldsmith is the most unfit to go out upon such an inquiry; for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we already possess, and consequently could not know what would be accessions to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. sir, he would bring home a grinding barrow, which you see in every street in london, and think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement."' 'greek, sir, (said he,) is like lace; every man gets as much of it as he can.' 'johnson one day gave high praise to dr. bentley's verses in dodsley's collection, which he recited with his usual energy. dr. adam smith, who was present, observed in his decisive professorial manner, "very well--very well." johnson however added, "yes, they are very well, sir; but you may observe in what manner they are well. they are the forcible verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accustomed to write verse; for there is some uncouthness in the expression."' 'drinking tea one day at garrick's with mr. langton, he was questioned if he was not somewhat of a heretick as to shakspeare; said garrick, "i doubt he is a little of an infidel."--"sir, (said johnson,) i will stand by the lines i have written on shakspeare in my prologue at the opening of your theatre." mr. langton suggested, that in the line "and panting time toil'd after him in vain," johnson might have had in his eye the passage in the tempest, where prospero says of miranda, "-----she will outstrip all praise, and make it halt behind her." johnson said nothing. garrick then ventured to observe, "i do not think that the happiest line in the praise of shakspeare." johnson exclaimed (smiling,) "prosaical rogues! next time i write, i'll make both time and space pant."' 'it is well known that there was formerly a rude custom for those who were sailing upon the thames, to accost each other as they passed, in the most abusive language they could invent, generally, however, with as much satirical humour as they were capable of producing. addison gives a specimen of this ribaldry, in number of the spectator, when sir roger de coverly and he are going to spring-garden. johnson was once eminently successful in this species of contest; a fellow having attacked him with some coarse raillery, johnson answered him thus, "sir, your wife, under pretence of keeping a bawdy-house, is a receiver of stolen goods." one evening when he and mr. burke and mr. langton were in company together, and the admirable scolding of timon of athens was mentioned, this instance of johnson's was quoted, and thought to have at least equal excellence.' 'as johnson always allowed the extraordinary talents of mr. burke, so mr. burke was fully sensible of the wonderful powers of johnson. mr. langton recollects having passed an evening with both of them, when mr. burke repeatedly entered upon topicks which it was evident he would have illustrated with extensive knowledge and richness of expression; but johnson always seized upon the conversation, in which, however, he acquitted himself in a most masterly manner. as mr. burke and mr. langton were walking home, mr. burke observed that johnson had been very great that night; mr. langton joined in this, but added, he could have wished to hear more from another person; (plainly intimating that he meant mr. burke.) "o, no (said mr. burke,) it is enough for me to have rung the bell to him."' 'beauclerk having observed to him of one of their friends, that he was aukward at counting money, "why, sir, (said johnson,) i am likewise aukward at counting money. but then, sir, the reason is plain; i have had very little money to count."' 'goldsmith, upon being visited by johnson one day in the temple, said to him with a little jealousy of the appearance of his accommodation, "i shall soon be in better chambers than these." johnson at the same time checked him and paid him a handsome compliment, implying that a man of his talents should be above attention to such distinctions,--"nay, sir, never mind that. nil te quaesiveris extra."' 'when mr. vesey was proposed as a member of the literary club, mr. burke began by saying that he was a man of gentle manners. "sir, (said johnson,) you need say no more. when you have said a man of gentle manners; you have said enough."' 'the late mr. fitzherbert told mr. langton that johnson said to him, "sir, a man has no more right to say an uncivil thing, than to act one; no more right to say a rude thing to another than to knock him down"' 'richardson had little conversation, except about his own works, of which sir joshua reynolds said he was always willing to talk, and glad to have them introduced. johnson when he carried mr. langton to see him, professed that he could bring him out into conversation, and used this allusive expression, "sir, i can make him rear." but he failed; for in that interview richardson said little else than that there lay in the room a translation of his clarissa into german.' 'once when somebody produced a newspaper in which there was a letter of stupid abuse of sir joshua reynolds, of which johnson himself came in for a share,--"pray," said he, "let us have it read aloud from beginning to end;" which being done, he with a ludicrous earnestness, and not directing his look to any particular person, called out, "are we alive after all this satire!"' 'of dr. goldsmith he said, "no man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had."' 'an observation of bathurst's may be mentioned, which johnson repeated, appearing to acknowledge it to be well founded, namely, it was somewhat remarkable how seldom, on occasion of coming into the company of any new person, one felt any wish or inclination to see him again.' : aetat. .]--in johnson at last completed his lives of the poets, of which he gives this account: 'some time in march i finished the lives of the poets, which i wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, and working with vigour and haste.' in a memorandum previous to this, he says of them: 'written, i hope, in such a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety.' the booksellers, justly sensible of the great additional value of the copy-right, presented him with another hundred pounds, over and above two hundred, for which his agreement was to furnish such prefaces as he thought fit. as he was so good as to make me a present of the greatest part of the original and indeed only manuscript of this admirable work, i have an opportunity of observing with wonder, the correctness with which he rapidly struck off such glowing composition. the life of cowley he himself considered as the best of the whole, on account of the dissertation which it contains on the metaphysical poets. while the world in general was filled with admiration of johnson's lives of the poets, there were narrow circles in which prejudice and resentment were fostered, and from which attacks of different sorts issued against him. by some violent whigs he was arraigned of injustice to milton; by some cambridge men of depreciating gray; and his expressing with a dignified freedom what he really thought of george, lord lyttelton, gave offence to some of the friends of that nobleman, and particularly produced a declaration of war against him from mrs. montagu, the ingenious essayist on shakspeare, between whom and his lordship a commerce of reciprocal compliments had long been carried on. in this war the smaller powers in alliance with him were of course led to engage, at least on the defensive, and thus i for one was excluded from the enjoyment of 'a feast of reason,' such as mr. cumberland has described, with a keen, yet just and delicate pen, in his observer. these minute inconveniences gave not the least disturbance to johnson. he nobly said, when i talked to him of the feeble, though shrill outcry which had been raised, 'sir, i considered myself as entrusted with a certain portion of truth. i have given my opinion sincerely; let them shew where they think me wrong.' i wrote to him in february, complaining of having been troubled by a recurrence of the perplexing question of liberty and necessity;--and mentioning that i hoped soon to meet him again in london. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir,--i hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery. what have you to do with liberty and necessity? or what more than to hold your tongue about it? do not doubt but i shall be most heartily glad to see you here again, for i love every part about you but your affectation of distress. 'i have at last finished my lives, and have laid up for you a load of copy, all out of order, so that it will amuse you a long time to set it right. come to me, my dear bozzy, and let us be as happy as we can. we will go again to the mitre, and talk old times over. i am, dear sir, yours affectionately, 'march , .' 'sam. johnson.' on monday, march , i arrived in london, and on tuesday, the th, met him in fleet-street, walking, or rather indeed moving along; for his peculiar march is thus described in a very just and picturesque manner, in a short life of him published very soon after his death:--'when he walked the streets, what with the constant roll of his head, and the concomitant motion of his body, he appeared to make his way by that motion, independent of his feet.' that he was often much stared at while he advanced in this manner, may easily be believed; but it was not safe to make sport of one so robust as he was. mr. langton saw him one day, in a fit of absence, by a sudden start, drive the load off a porter's back, and walk forward briskly, without being conscious of what he had done. the porter was very angry, but stood still, and eyed the huge figure with much earnestness, till he was satisfied that his wisest course was to be quiet, and take up his burthen again. our accidental meeting in the street after a long separation was a pleasing surprize to us both. he stepped aside with me into falcon-court, and made kind inquiries about my family, and as we were in a hurry going different ways, i promised to call on him next day; he said he was engaged to go out in the morning. 'early, sir?' said i. johnson. 'why, sir, a london morning does not go with the sun.' i waited on him next evening, and he gave me a great portion of his original manuscript of his lives of the poets, which he had preserved for me. i found on visiting his friend, mr. thrale, that he was now very ill, and had removed, i suppose by the solicitation of mrs. thrale, to a house in grosvenor-square. i was sorry to see him sadly changed in his appearance. he told me i might now have the pleasure to see dr. johnson drink wine again, for he had lately returned to it. when i mentioned this to johnson, he said, 'i drink it now sometimes, but not socially.' the first evening that i was with him at thrale's, i observed he poured a large quantity of it into a glass, and swallowed it greedily. every thing about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. he could practise abstinence, but not temperance. mrs. thrale and i had a dispute, whether shakspeare or milton had drawn the most admirable picture of a man.* i was for shakspeare; mrs. thrale for milton; and after a fair hearing, johnson decided for my opinion. * the passages considered, according to boswell's note, were the portrait of hamlet's father (ham. . . - ), and the portrait of adam (p. l. . - ).--ed. i told him of one of mr. burke's playful sallies upon dean marlay: 'i don't like the deanery of ferns, it sounds so like a barren title.'--'dr. heath should have it;' said i. johnson laughed, and condescending to trifle in the same mode of conceit, suggested dr. moss. he said, 'mrs. montagu has dropt me. now, sir, there are people whom one should like very well to drop, but would not wish to be dropped by.' he certainly was vain of the society of ladies, and could make himself very agreeable to them, when he chose it; sir joshua reynolds agreed with me that he could. mr. gibbon, with his usual sneer, controverted it, perhaps in resentment of johnson's having talked with some disgust of his ugliness, which one would think a philosopher would not mind. dean marlay wittily observed, 'a lady may be vain, when she can turn a wolf-dog into a lap-dog.' his notion of the duty of a member of parliament, sitting upon an election-committee, was very high; and when he was told of a gentleman upon one of those committees, who read the newspapers part of the time, and slept the rest, while the merits of a vote were examined by the counsel; and as an excuse, when challenged by the chairman for such behaviour, bluntly answered, 'i had made up my mind upon that case.'--johnson, with an indignant contempt, said, 'if he was such a rogue as to make up his mind upon a case without hearing it, he should not have been such a fool as to tell it.' 'i think (said mr. dudley long, now north,) the doctor has pretty plainly made him out to be both rogue and fool.' johnson's profound reverence for the hierarchy made him expect from bishops the highest degree of decorum; he was offended even at their going to taverns; 'a bishop (said he,) has nothing to do at a tippling-house. it is not indeed immoral in him to go to a tavern; neither would it be immoral in him to whip a top in grosvenor-square. but, if he did, i hope the boys would fall upon him, and apply the whip to him. there are gradations in conduct; there is morality,--decency,--propriety. none of these should be violated by a bishop. a bishop should not go to a house where he may meet a young fellow leading out a wench.' boswell. 'but, sir, every tavern does not admit women.' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, any tavern will admit a well-drest man and a well-drest woman; they will not perhaps admit a woman whom they see every night walking by their door, in the street. but a well-drest man may lead in a well-drest woman to any tavern in london. taverns sell meat and drink, and will sell them to any body who can eat and can drink. you may as well say that a mercer will not sell silks to a woman of the town.' he also disapproved of bishops going to routs, at least of their staying at them longer than their presence commanded respect. he mentioned a particular bishop. 'poh! (said mrs. thrale,) the bishop of ------ is never minded at a rout.' boswell. 'when a bishop places himself in a situation where he has no distinct character, and is of no consequence, he degrades the dignity of his order.' johnson. 'mr. boswell, madam has said it as correctly as it could be.' johnson and his friend, beauclerk, were once together in company with several clergymen, who thought that they should appear to advantage, by assuming the lax jollity of men of the world; which, as it may be observed in similar cases, they carried to noisy excess. johnson, who they expected would be entertained, sat grave and silent for some time; at last, turning to beauclerk, he said, by no means in a whisper, 'this merriment of parsons is mighty offensive.' on friday, march , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the earl of charlemont, sir annesley stewart, mr. eliot of port-eliot, mr. burke, dean marlay, mr. langton; a most agreeable day, of which i regret that every circumstance is not preserved; but it is unreasonable to require such a multiplication of felicity. mr. eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the cornish fishermen drink. they call it mahogany; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part treacle, well beaten together. i begged to have some of it made, which was done with proper skill by mr. eliot. i thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart of what is called athol porridge in the highlands of scotland, which is a mixture of whisky and honey. johnson said, 'that must be a better liquor than the cornish, for both its component parts are better.' he also observed, 'mahogany must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood called mahogany was known in this country.' i mentioned his scale of liquors;--claret for boys,--port for men,--brandy for heroes. 'then (said mr. burke,) let me have claret: i love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish days.' johnson. 'i should drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. you'll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.' i ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that dr. johnson was learning to dance of vestris. lord charlemont, wishing to excite him to talk, proposed in a whisper, that he should be asked, whether it was true. 'shall i ask him?' said his lordship. we were, by a great majority, clear for the experiment. upon which his lordship very gravely, and with a courteous air said, 'pray, sir, is it true that you are taking lessons of vestris?' this was risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a general of irish volunteers to make the attempt. johnson was at first startled, and in some heat answered, 'how can your lordship ask so simple a question?' but immediately recovering himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke: 'nay, but if any body were to answer the paragraph, and contradict it, i'd have a reply, and would say, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to vestris or me. for why should not dr. johnson add to his other powers a little corporeal agility? socrates learnt to dance at an advanced age, and cato learnt greek at an advanced age. then it might proceed to say, that this johnson, not content with dancing on the ground, might dance on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant dancing on the rope.' on sunday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, with sir philip jennings clerk and mr. perkins, who had the superintendence of mr. thrale's brewery, with a salary of five hundred pounds a year. sir philip had the appearance of a gentleman of ancient family, well advanced in life. he wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly size, a black velvet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, and very rich laced ruffles; which mrs. thrale said were old fashioned, but which, for that reason, i thought the more respectable, more like a tory; yet sir philip was then in opposition in parliament. 'ah, sir, (said johnson,) ancient ruffles and modern principles do not agree.' sir philip defended the opposition to the american war ably and with temper, and i joined him. he said, the majority of the nation was against the ministry. johnson. 'i, sir, am against the ministry; but it is for having too little of that, of which opposition thinks they have too much. were i minister, if any man wagged his finger against me, he should be turned out; for that which it is in the power of government to give at pleasure to one or to another, should be given to the supporters of government. if you will not oppose at the expence of losing your place, your opposition will not be honest, you will feel no serious grievance; and the present opposition is only a contest to get what others have. sir robert walpole acted as i would do. as to the american war, the sense of the nation is with the ministry. the majority of those who can understand is with it; the majority of those who can only hear, is against it; and as those who can only hear are more numerous than those who can understand, and opposition is always loudest, a majority of the rabble will be for opposition.' this boisterous vivacity entertained us; but the truth in my opinion was, that those who could understand the best were against the american war, as almost every man now is, when the question has been coolly considered. mrs. thrale gave high praise to mr. dudley long, (now north). johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. mr. long's character is very short. it is nothing. he fills a chair. he is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. i know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. they are provoked to attack it. now there is pepys; you praised that man with such disproportion, that i was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than he deserves. his blood is upon your head. by the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. and yet, (looking to her with a leering smile,) she is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers;--she would be the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig.' upon the subject of exaggerated praise i took the liberty to say, that i thought there might be very high praise given to a known character which deserved it, and therefore it would not be exaggerated. thus, one might say of mr. edmund burke, he is a very wonderful man. johnson. 'no, sir, you would not be safe if another man had a mind perversely to contradict. he might answer, "where is all the wonder? burke is, to be sure, a man of uncommon abilities, with a great quantity of matter in his mind, and a great fluency of language in his mouth. but we are not to be stunned and astonished by him." so you see, sir, even burke would suffer, not from any fault of his own, but from your folly.' mrs. thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely miserable, because he could not talk in company; so miserable, that he was impelled to lament his situation in the street to ******, whom he hates, and who he knows despises him. 'i am a most unhappy man, (said he). i am invited to conversations. i go to conversations; but, alas! i have no conversation.' johnson. 'man commonly cannot be successful in different ways. this gentleman has spent, in getting four thousand pounds a year, the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.' mr. perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: 'if he had got his four thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the same time that he was getting his fortune.' some other gentlemen came in. the conversation concerning the person whose character dr. johnson had treated so slightingly, as he did not know his merit, was resumed. mrs. thrale said, 'you think so of him, sir, because he is quiet, and does not exert himself with force. you'll be saying the same thing of mr. ***** there, who sits as quiet--.' this was not well-bred; and johnson did not let it pass without correction. 'nay, madam, what right have you to talk thus? both mr. ***** and i have reason to take it ill. you may talk so of mr. *****; but why do you make me do it? have i said anything against mr. *****? you have set him, that i might shoot him: but i have not shot him.' one of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes of dr. johnson's sayings collected by me. 'i must put you right, sir, (said i,) for i am very exact in authenticity. you could not see folio volumes, for i have none: you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. this is inattention which one should guard against.' johnson. 'sir, it is a want of concern about veracity. he does not know that he saw any volumes. if he had seen them he could have remembered their size.' mr. thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. i saw him again on monday evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of wednesday, the th, he expired. johnson was in the house, and thus mentions the event: 'i felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect and benignity.' upon that day there was a call of the literary club; but johnson apologised for his absence by the following note:-- 'mr. johnson knows that sir joshua reynolds and the other gentlemen will excuse his incompliance with the call, when they are told that mr. thrale died this morning.--wednesday.' mr. thrale's death was a very essential loss to johnson, who, although he did not foresee all that afterwards happened, was sufficiently convinced that the comforts which mr. thrale's family afforded him, would now in a great measure cease. he, however, continued to shew a kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable; and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, the office of one of his executors, the importance of which seemed greater than usual to him, from his circumstances having been always such, that he had scarcely any share in the real business of life. his friends of the club were in hopes that mr. thrale might have made a liberal provision for him for his life, which, as mr. thrale left no son, and a very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, considering dr. johnson's age, could not have been of long duration; but he bequeathed him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his executors. i could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold. lord lucan tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristical: that when the sale of thrale's brewery was going forward, johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 'we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice.' on friday, april , he carried me to dine at a club, which, at his desire, had been lately formed at the queen's arms, in st. paul's church-yard. he told mr. hoole, that he wished to have a city club, and asked him to collect one; but, said he, 'don't let them be patriots.' the company were to-day very sensible, well-behaved men. on friday, april , being good-friday, i went to st. clement's church with him as usual. there i saw again his old fellow-collegian, edwards, to whom i said, 'i think, sir, dr. johnson and you meet only at church.'--'sir, (said he,) it is the best place we can meet in, except heaven, and i hope we shall meet there too.' dr. johnson told me, that there was very little communication between edwards and him, after their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. 'but, (said he, smiling), he met me once, and said, "i am told you have written a very pretty book called the rambler." i was unwilling that he should leave the world in total darkness, and sent him a set.' mr. berrenger visited him to-day, and was very pleasing. we talked of an evening society for conversation at a house in town, of which we were all members, but of which johnson said, 'it will never do, sir. there is nothing served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor any thing whatever; and depend upon it, sir, a man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.' i endeavoured, for argument's sake, to maintain that men of learning and talents might have very good intellectual society, without the aid of any little gratifications of the senses. berrenger joined with johnson, and said, that without these any meeting would be dull and insipid. he would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it would not be amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a side-board. 'sir, (said johnson to me, with an air of triumph,) mr. berrenger knows the world. every body loves to have good things furnished to them without any trouble. i told mrs. thrale once, that as she did not choose to have card tables, she should have a profusion of the best sweetmeats, and she would be sure to have company enough come to her.' on sunday, april , being easter-day, after solemn worship in st. paul's church, i found him alone; dr. scott of the commons came in. we talked of the difference between the mode of education at oxford, and that in those colleges where instruction is chiefly conveyed by lectures. johnson. 'lectures were once useful; but now, when all can read, and books are so numerous, lectures are unnecessary. if your attention fails, and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you cannot go back as you do upon a book.' dr. scott agreed with him. 'but yet (said i), dr. scott, you yourself gave lectures at oxford.' he smiled. 'you laughed (then said i,) at those who came to you.' dr. scott left us, and soon afterwards we went to dinner. our company consisted of mrs. williams, mrs. desmoulins, mr. levett, mr. allen, the printer, and mrs. hall, sister of the reverend mr. john wesley, and resembling him, as i thought, both in figure and manner. johnson produced now, for the first time, some handsome silver salvers, which he told me he had bought fourteen years ago; so it was a great day. i was not a little amused by observing allen perpetually struggling to talk in the manner of johnson, like the little frog in the fable blowing himself up to resemble the stately ox. he mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which i had never heard before,--being called, that is, hearing one's name pronounced by the voice of a known person at a great distance, far beyond the possibility of being reached by any sound uttered by human organs. 'an acquaintance, on whose veracity i can depend, told me, that walking home one evening to kilmarnock, he heard himself called from a wood, by the voice of a brother who had gone to america; and the next packet brought accounts of that brother's death.' macbean asserted that this inexplicable calling was a thing very well known. dr. johnson said, that one day at oxford, as he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his mother distinctly call sam. she was then at lichfleld; but nothing ensued. this phaenomenon is, i think, as wonderful as any other mysterious fact, which many people are very slow to believe, or rather, indeed, reject with an obstinate contempt. some time after this, upon his making a remark which escaped my attention, mrs. williams and mrs. hall were both together striving to answer him. he grew angry, and called out loudly, 'nay, when you both speak at once, it is intolerable.' but checking himself, and softening, he said, 'this one may say, though you are ladies.' then he brightened into gay humour, and addressed them in the words of one of the songs in the beggar's opera:-- 'but two at a time there's no mortal can bear.' 'what, sir, (said i,) are you going to turn captain macheath?' there was something as pleasantly ludicrous in this scene as can be imagined. the contrast between macheath, polly, and lucy--and dr. samuel johnson, blind, peevish mrs. williams, and lean, lank, preaching mrs. hall, was exquisite. on friday, april , i spent with him one of the happiest days that i remember to have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. mrs. garrick, whose grief for the loss of her husband was, i believe, as sincere as wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the first time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with her. the company was miss hannah more, who lived with her, and whom she called her chaplain; mrs. boscawen, mrs. elizabeth carter, sir joshua reynolds, dr. burney, dr. johnson, and myself. we found ourselves very elegantly entertained at her house in the adelphi, where i have passed many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened life.' she looked well, talked of her husband with complacency, and while she cast her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the chimney-piece, said, that 'death was now the most agreeable object to her.' the very semblance of david garrick was cheering. we were all in fine spirits; and i whispered to mrs. boscawen, 'i believe this is as much as can be made of life.' in addition to a splendid entertainment, we were regaled with lichfield ale, which had a peculiar appropriated value. sir joshua, and dr. burney, and i, drank cordially of it to dr. johnson's health; and though he would not join us, he as cordially answered, 'gentlemen, i wish you all as well as you do me.' the general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond remembrance; but i do not find much conversation recorded. what i have preserved shall be faithfully given. one of the company mentioned mr. thomas hollis, the strenuous whig, who used to send over europe presents of democratical books, with their boards stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. mrs. carter said, 'he was a bad man. he used to talk uncharitably.' johnson. 'poh! poh! madam; who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? besides, he was a dull poor creature as ever lived: and i believe he would not have done harm to a man whom he knew to be of very opposite principles to his own. i remember once at the society of arts, when an advertisement was to be drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it best. this, you will observe, was kindness to me. i however slipt away, and escaped it.' mrs. carter having said of the same person, 'i doubt he was an atheist.' johnson. 'i don't know that. he might perhaps have become one, if he had had time to ripen, (smiling.) he might have exuberated into an atheist.' sir joshua reynolds praised mudge's sermons. johnson. 'mudge's sermons are good, but not practical. he grasps more sense than he can hold; he takes more corn than he can make into meal; he opens a wide prospect, but it is so distant, it is indistinct. i love blair's sermons. though the dog is a scotchman, and a presbyterian, and every thing he should not be, i was the first to praise them. such was my candour,' (smiling.) mrs. boscawen. 'such his great merit to get the better of all your prejudices.' johnson. 'why, madam, let us compound the matter; let us ascribe it to my candour, and his merit.' in the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room, several ladies, the bishop of killaloe, dr. percy, mr. chamberlayne, of the treasury, &c. &c. talking of a very respectable authour, he told us a curious circumstance in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's devil. reynolds. 'a printer's devil, sir! why, i thought a printer's devil was a creature with a black face and in rags.' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i suppose, he had her face washed, and put clean clothes on her. (then looking very serious, and very earnest.) and she did not disgrace him; the woman had a bottom of good sense.' the word bottom thus introduced, was so ludicrous when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not forbear tittering and laughing; though i recollect that the bishop of killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while miss hannah more slyly hid her face behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee with her. his pride could not bear that any expression of his should excite ridicule, when he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to assume and exercise despotick power, glanced sternly around, and called out in a strong tone, 'where's the merriment?' then collecting himself, and looking aweful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and as it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly pronounced, 'i say the woman was fundamentally sensible;' as if he had said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. we all sat composed as at a funeral. he and i walked away together; we stopped a little while by the rails of the adelphi, looking on the thames, and i said to him with some emotion that i was now thinking of two friends we had lost, who once lived in the buildings behind us, beauclerk and garrick. 'ay, sir, (said he, tenderly,) and two such friends as cannot be supplied.' for some time after this day i did not see him very often, and of the conversation which i did enjoy, i am sorry to find i have preserved but little. i was at this time engaged in a variety of other matters, which required exertion and assiduity, and necessarily occupied almost all my time. on tuesday, may , i had the pleasure of again dining with him and mr. wilkes, at mr. dilly's. no negociation was now required to bring them together; for johnson was so well satisfied with the former interview, that he was very glad to meet wilkes again, who was this day seated between dr. beattie and dr. johnson; (between truth and reason, as general paoli said, when i told him of it.) wilkes. 'i have been thinking, dr. johnson, that there should be a bill brought into parliament that the controverted elections for scotland should be tried in that country, at their own abbey of holy-rood house, and not here; for the consequence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation of scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. now here is boswell, who is come up upon the election for his own county, which will not last a fortnight.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i see no reason why they should be tried at all; for, you know, one scotchman is as good as another.' wilkes. 'pray, boswell, how much may be got in a year by an advocate at the scotch bar?' boswell. 'i believe two thousand pounds.' wilkes. 'how can it be possible to spend that money in scotland?' johnson. 'why, sir, the money may be spent in england: but there is a harder question. if one man in scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds, what remains for all the rest of the nation?' wilkes. 'you know, in the last war, the immense booty which thurot carried off by the complete plunder of seven scotch isles; he re-embarked with three and six-pence.' here again johnson and wilkes joined in extravagant sportive raillery upon the supposed poverty of scotland, which dr. beattie and i did not think it worth our while to dispute. the subject of quotation being introduced, mr. wilkes censured it as pedantry. johnson. 'no, sir, it is a good thing; there is a community of mind in it. classical quotation is the parole of literary men all over the world.' he gave us an entertaining account of bet flint, a woman of the town, who, with some eccentrick talents and much effrontery, forced herself upon his acquaintance. 'bet (said he,) wrote her own life in verse, which she brought to me, wishing that i would furnish her with a preface to it, (laughing.) i used to say of her that she was generally slut and drunkard; occasionally, whore and thief. she had, however, genteel lodgings, a spinnet on which she played, and a boy that walked before her chair. poor bet was taken up on a charge of stealing a counterpane, and tried at the old bailey. chief justice ------, who loved a wench, summed up favourably, and she was acquitted. after which bet said, with a gay and satisfied air, "now that the counterpane is my own, i shall make a petticoat of it."' talking of oratory, mr. wilkes described it as accompanied with all the charms of poetical expression. johnson. 'no, sir; oratory is the power of beating down your adversary's arguments, and putting better in their place.' wilkes. 'but this does not move the passions.' johnson. 'he must be a weak man, who is to be so moved.' wilkes. (naming a celebrated orator,) 'amidst all the brilliancy of ------'s imagination, and the exuberance of his wit, there is a strange want of taste. it was observed of apelles's venus, that her flesh seemed as if she had been nourished by roses: his oratory would sometimes make one suspect that he eats potatoes and drinks whisky.' mr. wilkes said to me, loud enough for dr. johnson to hear, 'dr. johnson should make me a present of his lives of the poets, as i am a poor patriot, who cannot afford to buy them.' johnson seemed to take no notice of this hint; but in a little while, he called to mr. dilly, 'pray, sir, be so good as to send a set of my lives to mr. wilkes, with my compliments.' this was accordingly done; and mr. wilkes paid dr. johnson a visit, was courteously received, and sat with him a long time. the company gradually dropped away. mr. dilly himself was called down stairs upon business; i left the room for some time; when i returned, i was struck with observing dr. samuel johnson and john wilkes, esq., literally tete-a-tete; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with their heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking earnestly, in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal quarrel between george the second and the king of prussia. such a scene of perfectly easy sociality between two such opponents in the war of political controversy, as that which i now beheld, would have been an excellent subject for a picture. it presented to my mind the happy days which are foretold in scripture, when the lion shall lie down with the kid. after this day there was another pretty long interval, during which dr. johnson and i did not meet. when i mentioned it to him with regret, he was pleased to say, 'then, sir, let us live double.' about this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. these societies were denominated blue-stocking clubs, the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. one of the most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was mr. stillingfleet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed, that he wore blue stockings. such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said, 'we can do nothing without the blue stockings;' and thus by degrees the title was established. miss hannah more has admirably described a blue-stocking club, in her bas bleu, a poem in which many of the persons who were most conspicuous there are mentioned. johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and did not think himself too grave even for the lively miss monckton (now countess of corke), who used to have the finest bit of blue at the house of her mother, lady galway. her vivacity enchanted the sage, and they used to talk together with all imaginable ease. a singular instance happened one evening, when she insisted that some of sterne's writings were very pathetick. johnson bluntly denied it. 'i am sure (said she,) they have affected me.' 'why, (said johnson, smiling, and rolling himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce.' when she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth and politeness; 'madam, if i had thought so, i certainly should not have said it.' another evening johnson's kind indulgence towards me had a pretty difficult trial. i had dined at the duke of montrose's with a very agreeable party, and his grace, according to his usual custom, had circulated the bottle very freely. lord graham and i went together to miss monckton's, where i certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and above all fear or awe. in the midst of a great number of persons of the first rank, amongst whom i recollect with confusion, a noble lady of the most stately decorum, i placed myself next to johnson, and thinking myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous manner, desirous to let the company know how i could contend with ajax. i particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument, asking him, 'what, sir, supposing i were to fancy that the ----- (naming the most charming duchess in his majesty's dominions) were in love with me, should i not be very happy?' my friend with much address evaded my interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be conceived how he must have felt. however, when a few days afterwards i waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the most friendly gentleness. while i remained in london this year, johnson and i dined together at several places. i recollect a placid day at dr. butter's, who had now removed from derby to lower grosvenor-street, london; but of his conversation on that and other occasions during this period, i neglected to keep any regular record, and shall therefore insert here some miscellaneous articles which i find in my johnsonian notes. his disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was passing over him,' appear from the following anecdote, communicated to me by mr. john nichols:--'in the year , a young bookseller, who was an apprentice to mr. whiston, waited on him with a subscription to his shakspeare: and observing that the doctor made no entry in any book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he would please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly inserted in the printed list of subscribers. "i shall print no list of subscribers;" said johnson, with great abruptness: but almost immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, "sir, i have two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one, that i have lost all the names,--the other, that i have spent all the money." johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his talents. when, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground, he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. once when i was pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'my dear boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. i'd rather have you whistle a scotch tune.' care, however, must be taken to distinguish between johnson when he 'talked for victory,' and johnson when he had no desire but to inform and illustrate. 'one of johnson's principal talents (says an eminent friend of his) was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of an argument, and in a splendid perversion of the truth. if you could contrive to have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias from personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.' he had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill; and to this, i think, we may venture to ascribe that unexampled richness and brilliancy which appeared in his own. as a proof at once of his eagerness for colloquial distinction, and his high notion of this eminent friend, he once addressed him thus:-- '-----, we now have been several hours together; and you have said but one thing for which i envied you.' goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties with him, and escape unpunished. beauclerk told me that when goldsmith talked of a project for having a third theatre in london, solely for the exhibition of new plays, in order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny of managers, johnson treated it slightingly; upon which goldsmith said, 'ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can now shelter yourself behind the corner of a pension;' and that johnson bore this with good-humour. johnson had called twice on the bishop of killaloe before his lordship set out for ireland, having missed him the first time. he said, 'it would have hung heavy on my heart if i had not seen him. no man ever paid more attention to another than he has done to me; and i have neglected him, not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. always, sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. he whose inclination prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.' i asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small a share of wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state which are the objects of ambition. he had only a pension of three hundred a year. why was he not in such circumstances as to keep his coach? why had he not some considerable office? johnson. 'sir, i have never complained of the world; nor do i think that i have reason to complain. it is rather to be wondered at that i have so much. my pension is more out of the usual course of things than any instance that i have known. here, sir, was a man avowedly no friend to government at the time, who got a pension without asking for it. i never courted the great; they sent for me; but i think they now give me up. they are satisfied; they have seen enough of me.' strange, however, it is, to consider how few of the great sought his society; so that if one were disposed to take occasion for satire on that account, very conspicuous objects present themselves. his noble friend, lord elibank, well observed, that if a great man procured an interview with johnson, and did not wish to see him more, it shewed a mere idle curiosity, and a wretched want of relish for extraordinary powers of mind. mrs. thrale justly and wittily accounted for such conduct by saying, that johnson's conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to obsequiousness and flattery; it was mustard in a young child's mouth! on saturday, june , i set out for scotland, and had promised to pay a visit in my way, as i sometimes did, at southill, in bedfordshire, at the hospitable mansion of 'squire dilly, the elder brother of my worthy friends, the booksellers, in the poultry. dr. johnson agreed to be of the party this year, with mr. charles dilly and me, and to go and see lord bute's seat at luton hoe. he talked little to us in the carriage, being chiefly occupied in reading dr. watson's second volume of chemical essays, which he liked very well, and his own prince of abyssinia, on which he seemed to be intensely fixed; having told us, that he had not looked at it since it was first published. i happened to take it out of my pocket this day, and he seized upon it with avidity. we stopped at welwyn, where i wished much to see, in company with dr. johnson, the residence of the authour of night thoughts, which was then possessed by his son, mr. young. here some address was requisite, for i was not acquainted with mr. young, and had i proposed to dr. johnson that we should send to him, he would have checked my wish, and perhaps been offended. i therefore concerted with mr. dilly, that i should steal away from dr. johnson and him, and try what reception i could procure from mr. young; if unfavourable, nothing was to be said; but if agreeable, i should return and notify it to them. i hastened to mr. young's, found he was at home, sent in word that a gentleman desired to wait upon him, and was shewn into a parlour, where he and a young lady, his daughter, were sitting. he appeared to be a plain, civil, country gentleman; and when i begged pardon for presuming to trouble him, but that i wished much to see his place, if he would give me leave; he behaved very courteously, and answered, 'by all means, sir; we are just going to drink tea; will you sit down?' i thanked him, but said, that dr. johnson had come with me from london, and i must return to the inn and drink tea with him; that my name was boswell, i had travelled with him in the hebrides. 'sir, (said he,) i should think it a great honour to see dr. johnson here. will you allow me to send for him?' availing myself of this opening, i said that 'i would go myself and bring him, when he had drunk tea; he knew nothing of my calling here.' having been thus successful, i hastened back to the inn, and informed dr. johnson that 'mr. young, son of dr. young, the authour of night thoughts, whom i had just left, desired to have the honour of seeing him at the house where his father lived.' dr. johnson luckily made no inquiry how this invitation had arisen, but agreed to go, and when we entered mr. young's parlour, he addressed him with a very polite bow, 'sir, i had a curiosity to come and see this place. i had the honour to know that great man, your father.' we went into the garden, where we found a gravel walk, on each side of which was a row of trees, planted by dr. young, which formed a handsome gothick arch; dr. johnson called it a fine grove. i beheld it with reverence. we sat some time in the summer-house, on the outside wall of which was inscribed, 'ambulantes in horto audiebant vocem dei;' and in reference to a brook by which it is situated, 'vivendi recte qui prorogat horam,' &c. i said to mr. young, that i had been told his father was cheerful. 'sir, (said he,) he was too well-bred a man not to be cheerful in company; but he was gloomy when alone. he never was cheerful after my mother's death, and he had met with many disappointments.' dr. johnson observed to me afterwards, 'that this was no favourable account of dr. young; for it is not becoming in a man to have so little acquiescence in the ways of providence, as to be gloomy because he has not obtained as much preferment as he expected; nor to continue gloomy for the loss of his wife. grief has its time.' the last part of this censure was theoretically made. practically, we know that grief for the loss of a wife may be continued very long, in proportion as affection has been sincere. no man knew this better than dr. johnson. upon the road we talked of the uncertainty of profit with which authours and booksellers engage in the publication of literary works. johnson. 'my judgement i have found is no certain rule as to the sale of a book.' boswell. 'pray, sir, have you been much plagued with authours sending you their works to revise?' johnson. 'no, sir; i have been thought a sour, surly fellow.' boswell. 'very lucky for you, sir,--in that respect.' i must however observe, that notwithstanding what he now said, which he no doubt imagined at the time to be the fact, there was, perhaps, no man who more frequently yielded to the solicitations even of very obscure authours, to read their manuscripts, or more liberally assisted them with advice and correction. he found himself very happy at 'squire dilly's, where there is always abundance of excellent fare, and hearty welcome. on sunday, june , we all went to southill church, which is very near to mr. dilly's house. it being the first sunday of the month, the holy sacrament was administered, and i staid to partake of it. when i came afterwards into dr. johnson's room, he said, 'you did right to stay and receive the communion; i had not thought of it.' this seemed to imply that he did not choose to approach the altar without a previous preparation, as to which good men entertain different opinions, some holding that it is irreverent to partake of that ordinance without considerable premeditation. although upon most occasions i never heard a more strenuous advocate for the advantages of wealth, than dr. johnson: he this day, i know not from what caprice, took the other side. 'i have not observed (said he,) that men of very large fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary that makes happiness. what has the duke of bedford? what has the duke of devonshire? the only great instance that i have ever known of the enjoyment of wealth was, that of jamaica dawkins, who, going to visit palmyra, and hearing that the way was infested by robbers, hired a troop of turkish horse to guard him.' dr. gibbons, the dissenting minister, being mentioned, he said, 'i took to dr. gibbons.' and addressing himself to mr. charles dilly, added, 'i shall be glad to see him. tell him, if he'll call on me, and dawdle over a dish of tea in an afternoon, i shall take it kind.' the reverend mr. smith, vicar of southill, a very respectable man, with a very agreeable family, sent an invitation to us to drink tea. i remarked dr. johnson's very respectful politeness. though always fond of changing the scene, he said, 'we must have mr. dilly's leave. we cannot go from your house, sir, without your permission.' we all went, and were well satisfied with our visit. when i observed that a housebreaker was in general very timorous; johnson. 'no wonder, sir; he is afraid of being shot getting into a house, or hanged when he has got out of it.' he told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of a translation from the french, adding, 'i should be glad to see it now. i wish that i had copies of all the pamphlets written against me, as it is said pope had. had i known that i should make so much noise in the world, i should have been at pains to collect them. i believe there is hardly a day in which there is not something about me in the newspapers.' on monday, june , we all went to luton-hoe, to see lord bute's magnificent seat, for which i had obtained a ticket. as we entered the park, i talked in a high style of my old friendship with lord mountstuart, and said, 'i shall probably be much at this place.' the sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently checked me: 'don't you be too sure of that.' he made two or three peculiar observations; as when shewn the botanical garden, 'is not every garden a botanical garden?' when told that there was a shrubbery to the extent of several miles: 'that is making a very foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.' when it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; 'don't let us fatigue ourselves. why should we walk there? here's a fine tree, let's get to the top of it.' but upon the whole, he was very much pleased. he said, 'this is one of the places i do not regret having come to see. it is a very stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence is not sacrificed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. the library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very great; and the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, beyond hope.' it happened without any previous concert, that we visited the seat of lord bute upon the king's birthday; we dined and drank his majesty's health at an inn, in the village of luton. in the evening i put him in mind of his promise to favour me with a copy of his celebrated letter to the earl of chesterfield, and he was at last pleased to comply with this earnest request, by dictating it to me from his memory; for he believed that he himself had no copy. there was an animated glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded indignation. on tuesday, june , johnson was to return to london. he was very pleasant at breakfast; i mentioned a friend of mine having resolved never to marry a pretty woman. johnson. 'sir it is a very foolish resolution to resolve not to marry a pretty woman. beauty is of itself very estimable. no, sir, i would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are objections to her. a pretty woman may be foolish; a pretty woman may be wicked; a pretty woman may not like me. but there is no such danger in marrying a pretty woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if she does not invite persecution. a pretty woman, if she has a mind to be wicked, can find a readier way than another; and that is all.' at shefford i had another affectionate parting from my revered friend, who was taken up by the bedford coach and carried to the metropolis. i went with messieurs dilly, to see some friends at bedford; dined with the officers of the militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my journey. johnson's charity to the poor was uniform and extensive, both from inclination and principle. he not only bestowed liberally out of his own purse, but what is more difficult as well as rare, would beg from others, when he had proper objects in view. this he did judiciously as well as humanely. mr. philip metcalfe tells me, that when he has asked him for some money for persons in distress, and mr. metcalfe has offered what johnson thought too much, he insisted on taking less, saying, 'no, no, sir; we must not pamper them.' i am indebted to mr. malone, one of sir joshua reynolds's executors, for the following note, which was found among his papers after his death, and which, we may presume, his unaffected modesty prevented him from communicating to me with the other letters from dr. johnson with which he was pleased to furnish me. however slight in itself, as it does honour to that illustrious painter, and most amiable man, i am happy to introduce it. 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir,--it was not before yesterday that i received your splendid benefaction. to a hand so liberal in distributing, i hope nobody will envy the power of acquiring. i am, dear sir, your obliged and most humble servant, 'june , .' 'sam. johnson.' the following curious anecdote i insert in dr. burney's own words:-- 'dr. burney related to dr. johnson the partiality which his writings had excited in a friend of dr. burney's, the late mr. bewley, well known in norfolk by the name of the philosopher of massingham: who, from the ramblers and plan of his dictionary, and long before the authour's fame was established by the dictionary itself, or any other work, had conceived such a reverence for him, that he urgently begged dr. burney to give him the cover of the first letter he had received from him, as a relick of so estimable a writer. this was in . in , when dr. burney visited dr. johnson at the temple in london, where he had then chambers, he happened to arrive there before he was up; and being shewn into the room where he was to breakfast, finding himself alone, he examined the contents of the apartment, to try whether he could undiscovered steal anything to send to his friend bewley, as another relick of the admirable dr. johnson. but finding nothing better to his purpose, he cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed them in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them with due reverence. the doctor was so sensible of the honour done him by a man of genius and science, to whom he was an utter stranger, that he said to dr. burney, "sir, there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of modesty, but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. i'll give him a set of my lives, if he will do me the honour to accept of them." in this he kept his word; and dr. burney had not only the pleasure of gratifying his friend with a present more worthy of his acceptance than the segment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of introducing him to dr. johnson himself in bolt-court, with whom he had the satisfaction of conversing a considerable time, not a fortnight before his death; which happened in st. martin's-street, during his visit to dr. burney, in the house where the great sir isaac newton had lived and died before.' in one of his little memorandum-books is the following minute:-- 'august , p.m., aetat. , in the summer-house at streatham. 'after innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, i have retired hither, to plan a life of greater diligence, in hope that i may yet be useful, and be daily better prepared to appear before my creator and my judge, from whose infinite mercy i humbly call for assistance and support. 'my purpose is, 'to pass eight hours every day in some serious employment. 'having prayed, i purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the italian language, for my settled study.' in autumn he went to oxford, birmingham, lichfield, and ashbourne, for which very good reasons might be given in the conjectural yet positive manner of writers, who are proud to account for every event which they relate. he himself, however, says, 'the motives of my journey i hardly know; i omitted it last year, and am not willing to miss it again.' but some good considerations arise, amongst which is the kindly recollection of mr. hector, surgeon at birmingham: 'hector is likewise an old friend, the only companion of my childhood that passed through the school with me. we have always loved one another; perhaps we may be made better by some serious conversation, of which however i have no distinct hope.' he says too, 'at lichfield, my native place, i hope to shew a good example by frequent attendance on publick worship.' : aetat. .]--in , his complaints increased, and the history of his life this year, is little more than a mournful recital of the variations of his illness, in the midst of which, however, it will appear from his letters, that the powers of his mind were in no degree impaired. at a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a shock, he was suddenly deprived of mr. levett, which event he thus communicated to dr. lawrence:-- 'sir,--our old friend, mr. levett, who was last night eminently cheerful, died this morning. the man who lay in the same room, hearing an uncommon noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without effect, he then called mr. holder, the apothecary, who, though when he came he thought him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. so has ended the long life of a very useful and very blameless man. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'jan. , .' 'sam. johnson.' in one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following entry:--'january , sunday. robert levett was buried in the church-yard of bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. he died on thursday , about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. he was an old and faithful friend; i have known him from about . commendavi. may god have mercy on him. may he have mercy on me.' on the th of august, i informed him that my honoured father had died that morning; a complaint under which he had long laboured having suddenly come to a crisis, while i was upon a visit at the seat of sir charles preston, from whence i had hastened the day before, upon receiving a letter by express. in answer to my next letter, i received one from him, dissuading me from hastening to him as i had proposed; what is proper for publication is the following paragraph, equally just and tender:--'one expence, however, i would not have you to spare: let nothing be omitted that can preserve mrs. boswell, though it should be necessary to transplant her for a time into a softer climate. she is the prop and stay of your life. how much must your children suffer by losing her.' my wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a very polite and grateful letter:-- 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'dear lady,--i have not often received so much pleasure as from your invitation to auchinleck. the journey thither and back is, indeed, too great for the latter part of the year; but if my health were fully recovered, i would suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me from you. i am, indeed, not without hope of seeing auchinleek again; but to make it a pleasant place i must see its lady well, and brisk, and airy. for my sake, therefore, among many greater reasons, take care, dear madam, of your health, spare no expence, and want no attendance that can procure ease, or preserve it. be very careful to keep your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an account of your recovery to, madam, yours, &c. 'london, sept. , .' 'sam. johnson.' the death of mr. thrale had made a very material alteration with respect to johnson's reception in that family. the manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her vanity had been fully gratified, by having the colossus of literature attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to please him. whether her attachment to him was already divided by another object, i am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that johnson's penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the th of october this year, we find him making a 'parting use of the library' at streatham, and pronouncing a prayer, which he composed on leaving mr. thrale's family:-- 'almighty god, father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that i may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and conveniences which i have enjoyed at this place; and that i may resign them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou givest, and when thou takest away. have mercy upon me, o lord, have mercy upon me. 'to thy fatherly protection, o lord, i commend this family. bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' one cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not very favourable to the lady whose conduct occasioned it. in one of his memorandum-books i find, 'sunday, went to church at streatham. templo valedixi cam osculo.' he met mr. philip metcalfe often at sir joshua reynolds's, and other places, and was a good deal with him at brighthelmston this autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated conversation. mr. metcalfe shewed him great respect, and sent him a note that he might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. johnson ( rd october, ) returned this polite answer:--'mr. johnson is very much obliged by the kind offer of the carriage, but he has no desire of using mr. metcalfe's carriage, except when he can have the pleasure of mr. metcalfe's company.' mr. metcalfe could not but be highly pleased that his company was thus valued by johnson, and he frequently attended him in airings. they also went together to chichester, and they visited petworth, and cowdry, the venerable seat of the lords montacute. 'sir, (said johnson,) i should like to stay here four-and-twenty hours. we see here how our ancestors lived.' 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir,--i heard yesterday of your late disorder, and should think ill of myself if i had heard of it without alarm. i heard likewise of your recovery, which i sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. your country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and i of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends: but i hope you will still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more enjoyment of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still reserved for, dear sir, your most affectionate, &c. 'brighthelmston, nov. , .' 'sam. johnson.' : aetat. .]--in , he was more severely afflicted than ever, as will appear in the course of his correspondence; but still the same ardour for literature, the same constant piety, the same kindness for his friends, and the same vivacity both in conversation and writing, distinguished him. on friday, march , having arrived in london the night before, i was glad to find him at mrs. thrale's house, in argyll-street, appearances of friendship between them being still kept up. i was shewn into his room, and after the first salutation he said, 'i am glad you are come. i am very ill.' he looked pale, and was distressed with a difficulty of breathing; but after the common inquiries he assumed his usual strong animated style of conversation. seeing me now for the first time as a laird, or proprietor of land, he began thus: 'sir, the superiority of a country-gentleman over the people upon his estate is very agreeable; and he who says he does not feel it to be agreeable, lies; for it must be agreeable to have a casual superiority over those who are by nature equal with us.' boswell. 'yet, sir, we see great proprietors of land who prefer living in london.' johnson. 'why, sir, the pleasure of living in london, the intellectual superiority that is enjoyed there, may counterbalance the other. besides, sir, a man may prefer the state of the country-gentleman upon the whole, and yet there may never be a moment when he is willing to make the change to quit london for it.' he talked with regret and indignation of the factious opposition to government at this time, and imputed it in a great measure to the revolution. 'sir, (said he, in a low voice, having come nearer to me, while his old prejudices seemed to be fermenting in his mind,) this hanoverian family is isolee here. they have no friends. now the stuarts had friends who stuck by them so late as . when the right of the king is not reverenced, there will not be reverence for those appointed by the king.' he repeated to me his verses on mr. levett, with an emotion which gave them full effect; and then he was pleased to say, 'you must be as much with me as you can. you have done me good. you cannot think how much better i am since you came in. he sent a message to acquaint mrs. thrale that i was arrived. i had not seen her since her husband's death. she soon appeared, and favoured me with an invitation to stay to dinner, which i accepted. there was no other company but herself and three of her daughters, dr. johnson, and i. she too said, she was very glad i was come, for she was going to bath, and should have been sorry to leave dr. johnson before i came. this seemed to be attentive and kind; and i who had not been informed of any change, imagined all to be as well as formerly. he was little inclined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but when he joined us in the drawing-room, he seemed revived, and was again himself. talking of conversation, he said, 'there must, in the first place, be knowledge, there must be materials; in the second place, there must be a command of words; in the third place, there must be imagination, to place things in such views as they are not commonly seen in; and in the fourth place, there must be presence of mind, and a resolution that is not to be overcome by failures: this last is an essential requisite; for want of it many people do not excel in conversation. now i want it: i throw up the game upon losing a trick.' i wondered to hear him talk thus of himself, and said, 'i don't know, sir, how this may be; but i am sure you beat other people's cards out of their hands.' i doubt whether he heard this remark. while he went on talking triumphantly, i was fixed in admiration, and said to mrs. thrale, 'o, for short-hand to take this down!' 'you'll carry it all in your head, (said she;) a long head is as good as short-hand.' it has been observed and wondered at, that mr. charles fox never talked with any freedom in the presence of dr. johnson, though it is well known, and i myself can witness, that his conversation is various, fluent, and exceedingly agreeable. johnson's own experience, however, of that gentleman's reserve was a sufficient reason for his going on thus: 'fox never talks in private company; not from any determination not to talk, but because he has not the first motion. a man who is used to the applause of the house of commons, has no wish for that of a private company. a man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set down to throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to count his dice. burke's talk is the ebullition of his mind; he does not talk from a desire of distinction, but because his mind is full.' after musing for some time, he said, 'i wonder how i should have any enemies; for i do harm to nobody.' boswell. 'in the first place, sir, you will be pleased to recollect, that you set out with attacking the scotch; so you got a whole nation for your enemies.' johnson. 'why, i own, that by my definition of oats i meant to vex them.' boswell. 'pray, sir, can you trace the cause of your antipathy to the scotch?' johnson. 'i cannot, sir.' boswell. 'old mr. sheridan says, it was because they sold charles the first.' johnson. 'then, sir, old mr. sheridan has found out a very good reason.' i had paid a visit to general oglethorpe in the morning,* and was told by him that dr. johnson saw company on saturday evenings, and he would meet me at johnson's that night. when i mentioned this to johnson, not doubting that it would please him, as he had a great value for oglethorpe, the fretfulness of his disease unexpectedly shewed itself; his anger suddenly kindled, and he said, with vehemence, 'did not you tell him not to come? am i to be hunted in this manner?' i satisfied him that i could not divine that the visit would not be convenient, and that i certainly could not take it upon me of my own accord to forbid the general. * march .--ed. i found dr. johnson in the evening in mrs. williams's room, at tea and coffee with her and mrs. desmoulins, who were also both ill; it was a sad scene, and he was not in very good humour. he said of a performance that had lately come out, 'sir, if you should search all the madhouses in england, you would not find ten men who would write so, and think it sense.' i was glad when general oglethorpe's arrival was announced, and we left the ladies. dr. johnson attended him in the parlour, and was as courteous as ever. on sunday, march , i breakfasted with dr. johnson, who seemed much relieved, having taken opium the night before. he however protested against it, as a remedy that should be given with the utmost reluctance, and only in extreme necessity. i mentioned how commonly it was used in turkey, and that therefore it could not be so pernicious as he apprehended. he grew warm and said, 'turks take opium, and christians take opium; but russel, in his account of aleppo, tells us, that it is as disgraceful in turkey to take too much opium, as it is with us to get drunk. sir, it is amazing how things are exaggerated. a gentleman was lately telling in a company where i was present, that in france as soon as a man of fashion marries, he takes an opera girl into keeping; and this he mentioned as a general custom. "pray, sir, (said i,) how many opera girls may there be?" he answered, "about fourscore." "well then, sir, (said i,) you see there can be no more than fourscore men of fashion who can do this."' mrs. desmoulins made tea; and she and i talked before him upon a topick which he had once borne patiently from me when we were by ourselves,--his not complaining of the world, because he was not called to some great office, nor had attained to great wealth. he flew into a violent passion, i confess with some justice, and commanded us to have done. 'nobody, (said he,) has a right to talk in this manner, to bring before a man his own character, and the events of his life, when he does not choose it should be done. i never have sought the world; the world was not to seek me. it is rather wonderful that so much has been done for me. all the complaints which are made of the world are unjust. i never knew a man of merit neglected: it was generally by his own fault that he failed of success. a man may hide his head in a hole: he may go into the country, and publish a book now and then, which nobody reads, and then complain he is neglected. there is no reason why any person should exert himself for a man who has written a good book: he has not written it for any individual. i may as well make a present to the postman who brings me a letter. when patronage was limited, an authour expected to find a maecenas, and complained if he did not find one. why should he complain? this maecenas has others as good as he, or others who have got the start of him.' on the subject of the right employment of wealth, johnson observed, 'a man cannot make a bad use of his money, so far as regards society, if he does not hoard it; for if he either spends it or lends it out, society has the benefit. it is in general better to spend money than to give it away; for industry is more promoted by spending money than by giving it away. a man who spends his money is sure he is doing good with it: he is not so sure when he gives it away. a man who spends ten thousand a year will do more good than a man who spends two thousand and gives away eight.' in the evening i came to him again. he was somewhat fretful from his illness. a gentleman asked him, whether he had been abroad to-day. 'don't talk so childishly, (said he.) you may as well ask if i hanged myself to-day.' i mentioned politicks. johnson. 'sir, i'd as soon have a man to break my bones as talk to me of publick affairs, internal or external. i have lived to see things all as bad as they can be.' he said, 'goldsmith's blundering speech to lord shelburne, which has been so often mentioned, and which he really did make to him, was only a blunder in emphasis: "i wonder they should call your lordship malagrida, for malagrida was a very good man;" meant, i wonder they should use malagrida as a term of reproach.' soon after this time i had an opportunity of seeing, by means of one of his friends, a proof that his talents, as well as his obliging service to authours, were ready as ever. he had revised the village, an admirable poem, by the reverend mr. crabbe. its sentiments as to the false notions of rustick happiness and rustick virtue were quite congenial with his own; and he had taken the trouble not only to suggest slight corrections and variations, but to furnish some lines, when he thought he could give the writer's meaning better than in the words of the manuscript. on sunday, march , i found him at home in the evening, and had the pleasure to meet with dr. brocklesby, whose reading, and knowledge of life, and good spirits, supply him with a never-failing source of conversation. i shall here insert a few of johnson's sayings, without the formality of dates, as they have no reference to any particular time or place. 'the more a man extends and varies his acquaintance the better.' this, however, was meant with a just restriction; for, he on another occasion said to me, 'sir, a man may be so much of every thing, that he is nothing of any thing.' 'it is a very good custom to keep a journal for a man's own use; he may write upon a card a day all that is necessary to be written, after he has had experience of life. at first there is a great deal to be written, because there is a great deal of novelty; but when once a man has settled his opinions, there is seldom much to be set down.' talking of an acquaintance of ours, whose narratives, which abounded in curious and interesting topicks, were unhappily found to be very fabulous; i mentioned lord mansfield's having said to me, 'suppose we believe one half of what he tells.' johnson. 'ay; but we don't know which half to believe. by his lying we lose not only our reverence for him, but all comfort in his conversation.' boswell. 'may we not take it as amusing fiction?' johnson. 'sir, the misfortune is, that you will insensibly believe as much of it as you incline to believe.' it is remarkable, that notwithstanding their congeniality in politicks, he never was acquainted with a late eminent noble judge, whom i have heard speak of him as a writer, with great respect. johnson, i know not upon what degree of investigation, entertained no exalted opinion of his lordship's intellectual character. talking of him to me one day, he said, 'it is wonderful, sir, with how little real superiority of mind men can make an eminent figure in publick life.' he expressed himself to the same purpose concerning another law-lord, who, it seems, once took a fancy to associate with the wits of london; but with so little success, that foote said, 'what can he mean by coming among us? he is not only dull himself, but the cause of dullness in others.' trying him by the test of his colloquial powers, johnson had found him very defective. he once said to sir joshua reynolds, 'this man now has been ten years about town, and has made nothing of it;' meaning as a companion. he said to me, 'i never heard any thing from him in company that was at all striking; and depend upon it, sir, it is when you come close to a man in conversation, that you discover what his real abilities are; to make a speech in a publick assembly is a knack. now i honour thurlow, sir; thurlow is a fine fellow; he fairly puts his mind to yours.' after repeating to him some of his pointed, lively sayings, i said, 'it is a pity, sir, you don't always remember your own good things, that you may have a laugh when you will.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is better that i forget them, that i may be reminded of them, and have a laugh on their being brought to my recollection.' when i recalled to him his having said as we sailed up loch-lomond, 'that if he wore any thing fine, it should be very fine;' i observed that all his thoughts were upon a great scale. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, every man will have as fine a thing as he can get; as a large diamond for his ring.' boswell. 'pardon me, sir: a man of a narrow mind will not think of it, a slight trinket will satisfy him: "nec sufferre queat majoris pondera gemmae."' i told him i should send him some essays which i had written, which i hoped he would be so good as to read, and pick out the good ones. johnson. 'nay, sir, send me only the good ones; don't make me pick them.' as a small proof of his kindliness and delicacy of feeling, the following circumstance may be mentioned: one evening when we were in the street together, and i told him i was going to sup at mr. beauclerk's, he said, 'i'll go with you.' after having walked part of the way, seeming to recollect something, he suddenly stopped and said, 'i cannot go,--but i do not love beauclerk the less.' on the frame of his portrait, mr. beauclerk had inscribed,-- '-------- ingenium ingens inculto latet hoc sub corpore.' after mr. beauclerk's death, when it became mr. langton's property, he made the inscription be defaced. johnson said complacently, 'it was kind in you to take it off;' and then after a short pause, added, 'and not unkind in him to put it on.' he said, 'how few of his friends' houses would a man choose to be at when he is sick.' he mentioned one or two. i recollect only thrale's. he observed, 'there is a wicked inclination in most people to suppose an old man decayed in his intellects. if a young or middle-aged man, when leaving a company, does not recollect where he laid his hat, it is nothing; but if the same inattention is discovered in an old man, people will shrug up their shoulders, and say, "his memory is going."' sir joshua reynolds communicated to me the following particulars:-- johnson thought the poems published as translations from ossian had so little merit, that he said, 'sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would abandon his mind to it.' he said, 'a man should pass a part of his time with the laughers, by which means any thing ridiculous or particular about him might be presented to his view, and corrected.' i observed, he must have been a bold laugher who would have ventured to tell dr. johnson of any of his particularities.* * i am happy, however, to mention a pleasing instance of his enduring with great gentleness to hear one of his most striking particularities pointed out:--miss hunter, a niece of his friend christopher smart, when a very young girl, struck by his extraordinary motions, said to him, pray, dr. johnson, why do you make such strange gestures?' from bad habit, he replied. 'do you, my dear, take care to guard against bad habits.' this i was told by the young lady's brother at margate.--boswell. dr. goldsmith said once to dr. johnson, that he wished for some additional members to the literary club, to give it an agreeable variety; for (said he,) there can now be nothing new among us: we have travelled over one another's minds. johnson seemed a little angry, and said, 'sir, you have not travelled over my mind, i promise you.' sir joshua, however, thought goldsmith right; observing, that 'when people have lived a great deal together, they know what each of them will say on every subject. a new understanding, therefore, is desirable; because though it may only furnish the same sense upon a question which would have been furnished by those with whom we are accustomed to live, yet this sense will have a different colouring; and colouring is of much effect in every thing else as well as in painting.' johnson used to say that he made it a constant rule to talk as well as he could both as to sentiment and expression, by which means, what had been originally effort became familiar and easy. the consequence of this, sir joshua observed, was, that his common conversation in all companies was such as to secure him universal attention, as something above the usual colloquial style was expected. yet, though johnson had this habit in company, when another mode was necessary, in order to investigate truth, he could descend to a language intelligible to the meanest capacity. an instance of this was witnessed by sir joshua reynolds, when they were present at an examination of a little blackguard boy, by mr. saunders welch, the late westminster justice. welch, who imagined that he was exalting himself in dr. johnson's eyes by using big words, spoke in a manner that was utterly unintelligible to the boy; dr. johnson perceiving it, addressed himself to the boy, and changed the pompous phraseology into colloquial language. sir joshua reynolds, who was much amused by this procedure, which seemed a kind of reversing of what might have been expected from the two men, took notice of it to dr. johnson, as they walked away by themselves. johnson said, that it was continually the case; and that he was always obliged to translate the justice's swelling diction, (smiling,) so as that his meaning might be understood by the vulgar, from whom information was to be obtained. sir joshua once observed to him, that he had talked above the capacity of some people with whom they had been in company together. 'no matter, sir, (said johnson;) they consider it as a compliment to be talked to, as if they were wiser than they are. so true is this, sir, that baxter made it a rule in every sermon that he preached, to say something that was above the capacity of his audience.' johnson's dexterity in retort, when he seemed to be driven to an extremity by his adversary, was very remarkable. of his power in this respect, our common friend, mr. windham of norfolk, has been pleased to furnish me with an eminent instance. however unfavourable to scotland, he uniformly gave liberal praise to george buchanan, as a writer. in a conversation concerning the literary merits of the two countries, in which buchanan was introduced, a scotchman, imagining that on this ground he should have an undoubted triumph over him, exclaimed, 'ah, dr. johnson, what would you have said of buchanan, had he been an englishman?' 'why, sir, (said johnson, after a little pause,) i should not have said of buchanan, had he been an englishman, what i will now say of him as a scotchman,--that he was the only man of genius his country ever produced.' though his usual phrase for conversation was talk, yet he made a distinction; for when he once told me that he dined the day before at a friend's house, with 'a very pretty company;' and i asked him if there was good conversation, he answered, 'no, sir; we had talk enough, but no conversation; there was nothing discussed.' such was his sensibility, and so much was he affected by pathetick poetry, that, when he was reading dr. beattie's hermit in my presence, it brought tears into his eyes. mr. hoole told him, he was born in moorfields, and had received part of his early instruction in grub-street. 'sir, (said johnson, smiling,) you have been regularly educated.' having asked who was his instructor, and mr. hoole having answered, 'my uncle, sir, who was a taylor;' johnson, recollecting himself, said, 'sir, i knew him; we called him the metaphysical taylor. he was of a club in old-street, with me and george psalmanazar, and some others: but pray, sir, was he a good taylor?' mr. hoole having answered that he believed he was too mathematical, and used to draw squares and triangles on his shop-board, so that he did not excel in the cut of a coat;--'i am sorry for it (said johnson,) for i would have every man to be master of his own business.' in pleasant reference to himself and mr. hoole, as brother authours, he often said, 'let you and i, sir, go together, and eat a beef-steak in grub-street.' he said to sir william scott, 'the age is running mad after innovation; all the business of the world is to be done in a new way; men are to be hanged in a new way; tyburn itself is not safe from the fury of innovation.' it having been argued that this was an improvement,--'no, sir, (said he, eagerly,) it is not an improvement: they object that the old method drew together a number of spectators. sir, executions are intended to draw spectators. if they do not draw spectators they don't answer their purpose. the old method was most satisfactory to all parties; the publick was gratified by a procession; the criminal was supported by it. why is all this to be swept away?' i perfectly agree with dr. johnson upon this head, and am persuaded that executions now, the solemn procession being discontinued, have not nearly the effect which they formerly had. magistrates both in london, and elsewhere, have, i am afraid, in this had too much regard to their own case. johnson's attention to precision and clearness in expression was very remarkable. he disapproved of parentheses; and i believe in all his voluminous writings, not half a dozen of them will be found. he never used the phrases the former and the latter, having observed, that they often occasioned obscurity; he therefore contrived to construct his sentences so as not to have occasion for them, and would even rather repeat the same words, in order to avoid them. nothing is more common than to mistake surnames when we hear them carelessly uttered for the first time. to prevent this, he used not only to pronounce them slowly and distinctly, but to take the trouble of spelling them; a practice which i have often followed; and which i wish were general. such was the heat and irritability of his blood, that not only did he pare his nails to the quick; but scraped the joints of his fingers with a pen-knife, till they seemed quite red and raw. the heterogeneous composition of human nature was remarkably exemplified in johnson. his liberality in giving his money to persons in distress was extraordinary. yet there lurked about him a propensity to paultry saving. one day i owned to him that 'i was occasionally troubled with a fit of narrowness.' 'why, sir, (said he,) so am i. but i do not tell it.' he has now and then borrowed a shilling of me; and when i asked for it again, seemed to be rather out of humour. a droll little circumstance once occurred: as if he meant to reprimand my minute exactness as a creditor, he thus addressed me;--'boswell, lend me sixpence--not to be repaid.' this great man's attention to small things was very remarkable. as an instance of it, he one day said to me, 'sir, when you get silver in change for a guinea, look carefully at it; you may find some curious piece of coin.' though a stern true-born englishman, and fully prejudiced against all other nations, he had discernment enough to see, and candour enough to censure, the cold reserve too common among englishmen towards strangers: 'sir, (said he,) two men of any other nation who are shewn into a room together, at a house where they are both visitors, will immediately find some conversation. but two englishmen will probably go each to a different window, and remain in obstinate silence. sir, we as yet do not enough understand the common rights of humanity.' johnson, for sport perhaps, or from the spirit of contradiction, eagerly maintained that derrick had merit as a writer. mr. morgann* argued with him directly, in vain. at length he had recourse to this device. 'pray, sir, (said he,) whether do you reckon derrick or smart the best poet?' johnson at once felt himself roused; and answered, 'sir, there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea.' * author of the essay on the character of falstaff.--ed. he was pleased to say to me one morning when we were left alone in his study, 'boswell, i think i am easier with you than with almost any body.' he would not allow mr. david hume any credit for his political principles, though similar to his own; saying of him, 'sir, he was a tory by chance.' his acute observation of human life made him remark, 'sir, there is nothing by which a man exasperates most people more, than by displaying a superiour ability or brilliancy in conversation. they seem pleased at the time; but their envy makes them curse him in their hearts.' johnson's love of little children, which he discovered upon all occasions, calling them 'pretty dears,' and giving them sweetmeats, was an undoubted proof of the real humanity and gentleness of his disposition. his uncommon kindness to his servants, and serious concern, not only for their comfort in this world, but their happiness in the next, was another unquestionable evidence of what all, who were intimately acquainted with him, knew to be true. nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness which he shewed for animals which he had taken under his protection. i never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. i am, unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that i am uneasy when in the room with one; and i own, i frequently suffered a good deal from the presence of this same hodge. i recollect him one day scrambling up dr. johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the tail; and when i observed he was a fine cat, saying, 'why yes, sir, but i have had cats whom i liked better than this;' and then as if perceiving hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.' this reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave mr. langton, of the despicable state of a young gentleman of good family. 'sir, when i heard of him last, he was running about town shooting cats.' and then in a sort of kindly reverie, he bethought himself of his own favourite cat, and said, 'but hodge shan't be shot; no, no, hodge shall not be shot.' on thursday, april , i introduced to him, at his house in bolt-court, the honourable and reverend william stuart, son of the earl of bute; a gentleman truly worthy of being known to johnson; being, with all the advantages of high birth, learning, travel, and elegant manners, an exemplary parish priest in every respect. after some compliments on both sides, the tour which johnson and i had made to the hebrides was mentioned. johnson. 'i got an acquisition of more ideas by it than by any thing that i remember. i saw quite a different system of life.' boswell. 'you would not like to make the same journey again?' johnson. 'why no, sir; not the same: it is a tale told. gravina, an italian critick, observes, that every man desires to see that of which he has read; but no man desires to read an account of what he has seen: so much does description fall short of reality. description only excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it. other people may go and see the hebrides.' boswell. 'i should wish to go and see some country totally different from what i have been used to; such as turkey, where religion and every thing else are different.' johnson. 'yes, sir; there are two objects of curiosity,--the christian world, and the mahometan world. all the rest may be considered as barbarous.' boswell. 'pray, sir, is the turkish spy a genuine book?' johnson. 'no, sir. mrs. manley, in her life, says that her father wrote the first two volumes: and in another book, dunton's life and errours, we find that the rest was written by one sault, at two guineas a sheet, under the direction of dr. midgeley.' about this time he wrote to mrs. lucy porter, mentioning his bad health, and that he intended a visit to lichfield. 'it is, (says he,) with no great expectation of amendment that i make every year a journey into the country; but it is pleasant to visit those whose kindness has been often experienced.' on april , (being good-friday,) i found him at breakfast, in his usual manner upon that day, drinking tea without milk, and eating a cross-bun to prevent faintness; we went to st. clement's church, as formerly. when we came home from church, he placed himself on one of the stone-seats at his garden-door, and i took the other, and thus in the open air and in a placid frame of mind, he talked away very easily. johnson. 'were i a country gentleman, i should not be very hospitable, i should not have crowds in my house.' boswell. 'sir alexander dick tells me, that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his house: that is, reckoning each person as one, each time that he dined there.' johnson. 'that, sir, is about three a day.' boswell. 'how your statement lessens the idea.' johnson. 'that, sir, is the good of counting. it brings every thing to a certainty, which before floated in the mind indefinitely.' boswell. 'i wish to have a good walled garden.' johnson. 'i don't think it would be worth the expence to you. we compute in england, a park wall at a thousand pounds a mile; now a garden-wall must cost at least as much. you intend your trees should grow higher than a deer will leap. now let us see; for a hundred pounds you could only have forty-four square yards, which is very little; for two hundred pounds, you may have eighty-four square yards, which is very well. but when will you get the value of two hundred pounds of walls, in fruit, in your climate? no, sir, such contention with nature is not worth while. i would plant an orchard, and have plenty of such fruit as ripen well in your country. my friend, dr. madden, of ireland, said, that "in an orchard there should be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to rot upon the ground." cherries are an early fruit, you may have them; and you may have the early apples and pears.' boswell. 'we cannot have nonpareils.' johnson. 'sir, you can no more have nonpareils than you can have grapes.' boswell. 'we have them, sir; but they are very bad.' johnson. 'nay, sir, never try to have a thing merely to shew that you cannot have it. from ground that would let for forty shillings you may have a large orchard; and you see it costs you only forty shillings. nay, you may graze the ground when the trees are grown up; you cannot while they are young.' boswell. 'is not a good garden a very common thing in england, sir?' johnson. 'not so common, sir, as you imagine. in lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard; in staffordshire very little fruit.' boswell. 'has langton no orchard?' johnson. 'no, sir.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, from the general negligence of the county. he has it not, because nobody else has it.' boswell. 'a hot-house is a certain thing; i may have that.' johnson. 'a hot-house is pretty certain; but you must first build it, then you must keep fires in it, and you must have a gardener to take care of it.' boswell. 'but if i have a gardener at any rate ?--' johnson. 'why, yes.' boswell. 'i'd have it near my house; there is no need to have it in the orchard.' johnson. 'yes, i'd have it near my house. i would plant a great many currants; the fruit is good, and they make a pretty sweetmeat.' i record this minute detail, which some may think trifling, in order to shew clearly how this great man, whose mind could grasp such large and extensive subjects, as he has shewn in his literary labours, was yet well-informed in the common affairs of life, and loved to illustrate them. talking of the origin of language; johnson. 'it must have come by inspiration. a thousand, nay, a million of children could not invent a language. while the organs are pliable, there is not understanding enough to form a language; by the time that there is understanding enough, the organs are become stiff. we know that after a certain age we cannot learn to pronounce a new language. no foreigner, who comes to england when advanced in life, ever pronounces english tolerably well; at least such instances are very rare. when i maintain that language must have come by inspiration, i do not mean that inspiration is required for rhetorick, and all the beauties of language; for when once man has language, we can conceive that he may gradually form modifications of it. i mean only that inspiration seems to me to be necessary to give man the faculty of speech; to inform him that he may have speech; which i think he could no more find out without inspiration, than cows or hogs would think of such a faculty.' walker. 'do you think, sir, that there are any perfect synonimes in any language?' johnson. 'originally there were not; but by using words negligently, or in poetry, one word comes to be confounded with another.' he talked of dr. dodd. 'a friend of mine, (said he,) came to me and told me, that a lady wished to have dr. dodd's picture in a bracelet, and asked me for a motto. i said, i could think of no better than currat lex. i was very willing to have him pardoned, that is, to have the sentence changed to transportation: but, when he was once hanged, i did not wish he should be made a saint.' mrs. burney, wife of his friend dr. burney, came in, and he seemed to be entertained with her conversation. garrick's funeral was talked of as extravagantly expensive. johnson, from his dislike to exaggeration, would not allow that it was distinguished by any extraordinary pomp. 'were there not six horses to each coach?' said mrs. burney. johnson. 'madam, there were no more six horses than six phoenixes.' time passed on in conversation till it was too late for the service of the church at three o'clock. i took a walk, and left him alone for some time; then returned, and we had coffee and conversation again by ourselves. we went to evening prayers at st. clement's, at seven, and then parted. on sunday, april , being easter-day, after attending solemn service at st. paul's, i came to dr. johnson, and found mr. lowe, the painter, sitting with him. mr. lowe mentioned the great number of new buildings of late in london, yet that dr. johnson had observed, that the number of inhabitants was not increased. johnson. why, sir, the bills of mortality prove that no more people die now than formerly; so it is plain no more live. the register of births proves nothing, for not one tenth of the people of london are born there.' boswell. 'i believe, sir, a great many of the children born in london die early.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir.' boswell. 'but those who do live, are as stout and strong people as any: dr. price says, they must be naturally stronger to get through.' johnson. 'that is system, sir. a great traveller observes, that it is said there are no weak or deformed people among the indians; but he with much sagacity assigns the reason of this, which is, that the hardship of their life as hunters and fishers does not allow weak or diseased children to grow up. now had i been an indian, i must have died early; my eyes would not have served me to get food. i indeed now could fish, give me english tackle; but had i been an indian i must have starved, or they would have knocked me on the head, when they saw i could do nothing.' boswell. 'perhaps they would have taken care of you: we are told they are fond of oratory, you would have talked to them.' johnson. nay, sir, i should not have lived long enough to be fit to talk; i should have been dead before i was ten years old. depend upon it, sir, a savage, when he is hungry, will not carry about with him a looby of nine years old, who cannot help himself. they have no affection, sir.' boswell. 'i believe natural affection, of which we hear so much, is very small.' johnson. 'sir, natural affection is nothing: but affection from principle and established duty is sometimes wonderfully strong.' lowe. 'a hen, sir, will feed her chickens in preference to herself.' johnson. 'but we don't know that the hen is hungry; let the hen be fairly hungry, and i'll warrant she'll peck the corn herself. a cock, i believe, will feed hens instead of himself; but we don't know that the cock is hungry.' boswell. 'and that, sir, is not from affection but gallantry. but some of the indians have affection.' johnson. 'sir, that they help some of their children is plain; for some of them live, which they could not do without being helped.' i dined with him; the company were, mrs. williams, mrs. desmoulins, and mr. lowe. he seemed not to be well, talked little, grew drowsy soon after dinner, and retired, upon which i went away. having next day gone to mr. burke's seat in the country, from whence i was recalled by an express, that a near relation of mine had killed his antagonist in a duel, and was himself dangerously wounded, i saw little of dr. johnson till monday, april , when i spent a considerable part of the day with him, and introduced the subject, which then chiefly occupied my mind. johnson. 'i do not see, sir, that fighting is absolutely forbidden in scripture; i see revenge forbidden, but not self-defence.' boswell. 'the quakers say it is; "unto him that smiteth thee on one cheek, offer him also the other."' johnson. 'but stay, sir; the text is meant only to have the effect of moderating passion; it is plain that we are not to take it in a literal sense. we see this from the context, where there are other recommendations, which i warrant you the quaker will not take literally; as, for instance, "from him that would borrow of thee, turn thou not away." let a man whose credit is bad, come to a quaker, and say, "well, sir, lend me a hundred pounds;" he'll find him as unwilling as any other man. no, sir, a man may shoot the man who invades his character, as he may shoot him who attempts to break into his house.* so in , my friend, tom gumming, the quaker, said, he would not fight, but he would drive an ammunition cart; and we know that the quakers have sent flannel waistcoats to our soldiers, to enable them to fight better.' boswell. 'when a man is the aggressor, and by ill-usage forces on a duel in which he is killed, have we not little ground to hope that he is gone into a state of happiness?' johnson. 'sir, we are not to judge determinately of the state in which a man leaves this life. he may in a moment have repented effectually, and it is possible may have been accepted by god.' * i think it necessary to caution my readers against concluding that in this or any other conversation of dr. johnson, they have his serious and deliberate opinion on the subject of duelling. in my journal of a tour to the hebrides, rd edit. p. [p. , oct. ], it appears that he made this frank confession:--'nobody at times, talks more laxly than i do;' and, ib., p. [sept. , ], 'he fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of duelling.' we may, therefore, infer, that he could not think that justifiable, which seems so inconsistent with the spirit of the gospel.--boswell. upon being told that old mr. sheridan, indignant at the neglect of his oratorical plans, had threatened to go to america; johnson. 'i hope he will go to america.' boswell. 'the americans don't want oratory.' johnson. 'but we can want sheridan.' on monday, april , i found him at home in the forenoon, and mr. seward with him. horace having been mentioned; boswell. 'there is a great deal of thinking in his works. one finds there almost every thing but religion.' seward. 'he speaks of his returning to it, in his ode parcus deorum cultor et infrequens.' johnson. 'sir, he was not in earnest: this was merely poetical.' boswell. 'there are, i am afraid, many people who have no religion at all.' seward. 'and sensible people too.' johnson. 'why, sir, not sensible in that respect. there must be either a natural or a moral stupidity, if one lives in a total neglect of so very important a concern. seward. 'i wonder that there should be people without religion.' johnson. 'sir, you need not wonder at this, when you consider how large a proportion of almost every man's life is passed without thinking of it. i myself was for some years totally regardless of religion. it had dropped out of my mind. it was at an early part of my life. sickness brought it back, and i hope i have never lost it since.' boswell. 'my dear sir, what a man must you have been without religion! why you must have gone on drinking, and swearing, and--' johnson (with a smile,) 'i drank enough and swore enough, to be sure.' seward. 'one should think that sickness and the view of death would make more men religious.' johnson. 'sir, they do not know how to go about it: they have not the first notion. a man who has never had religion before, no more grows religious when he is sick, than a man who has never learnt figures can count when he has need of calculation.' i mentioned dr. johnson's excellent distinction between liberty of conscience and liberty of teaching. johnson. 'consider, sir; if you have children whom you wish to educate in the principles of the church of england, and there comes a quaker who tries to pervert them to his principles, you would drive away the quaker. you would not trust to the predomination of right, which you believe is in your opinions; you would keep wrong out of their heads. now the vulgar are the children of the state. if any one attempts to teach them doctrines contrary to what the state approves, the magistrate may and ought to restrain him.' seward. 'would you restrain private conversation, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is difficult to say where private conversation begins, and where it ends. if we three should discuss even the great question concerning the existence of a supreme being by ourselves, we should not be restrained; for that would be to put an end to all improvement. but if we should discuss it in the presence of ten boarding-school girls, and as many boys, i think the magistrate would do well to put us in the stocks, to finish the debate there.' 'how false (said he,) is all this, to say that in ancient times learning was not a disgrace to a peer as it is now. in ancient times a peer was as ignorant as any one else. he would have been angry to have it thought he could write his name. men in ancient times dared to stand forth with a degree of ignorance with which nobody would dare now to stand forth. i am always angry when i hear ancient times praised at the expence of modern times. there is now a great deal more learning in the world than there was formerly; for it is universally diffused. you have, perhaps, no man who knows as much greek and latin as bentley; no man who knows as much mathematicks as newton: but you have many more men who know greek and latin, and who know mathematicks.' on thursday, may , i visited him in the evening along with young mr. burke. he said, 'it is strange that there should be so little reading in the world, and so much writing. people in general do not willingly read, if they can have any thing else to amuse them. there must be an external impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. the progress which the understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it. language is scanty, and inadequate to express the nice gradations and mixtures of our feelings. no man reads a book of science from pure inclination. the books that we do read with pleasure are light compositions, which contain a quick succession of events. however, i have this year read all virgil through. i read a book of the aeneid every night, so it was done in twelve nights, and i had great delight in it. the georgicks did not give me so much pleasure, except the fourth book. the eclogues i have almost all by heart. i do not think the story of the aeneid interesting. i like the story of the odyssey much better; and this not on account of the wonderful things which it contains; for there are wonderful things enough in the aeneid;--the ships of the trojans turned to sea-nymphs,--the tree at polydorus's tomb dropping blood. the story of the odyssey is interesting, as a great part of it is domestick. it has been said, there is pleasure in writing, particularly in writing verses. i allow you may have pleasure from writing, after it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it again. i know when i have been writing verses, i have run my finger down the margin, to see how many i had made, and how few i had to make.' he seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although i have no note of the particulars of young mr. burke's conversation, it is but justice to mention in general, that it was such that dr. johnson said to me afterwards, 'he did very well indeed; i have a mind to tell his father.' i have no minute of any interview with johnson till thursday, may , when i find what follows:--boswell. 'i wish much to be in parliament, sir.' johnson. 'why, sir, unless you come resolved to support any administration, you would be the worse for being in parliament, because you would be obliged to live more expensively.' boswell. 'perhaps, sir, i should be the less happy for being in parliament. i never would sell my vote, and i should be vexed if things went wrong.' johnson. 'that's cant, sir. it would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery: publick affairs vex no man.' boswell. 'have not they vexed yourself a little, sir? have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this reign, and by that absurd vote of the house of commons, "that the influence of the crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished?"' johnson. 'sir, i have never slept an hour less, nor eat an ounce less meat. i would have knocked the factious dogs on the head, to be sure; but i was not vexed.' boswell. 'i declare, sir, upon my honour, i did imagine i was vexed, and took a pride in it; but it was, perhaps, cant; for i own i neither ate less, nor slept less.' johnson. 'my dear friend, clear your mind of cant. you may talk as other people do: you may say to a man, "sir, i am your most humble servant." you are not his most humble servant. you may say, "these are bad times; it is a melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." you don't mind the times. you tell a man, "i am sorry you had such bad weather the last day of your journey, and were so much wet." you don't care six-pence whether he is wet or dry. you may talk in this manner; it is a mode of talking in society: but don't think foolishly.' here he discovered a notion common enough in persons not much accustomed to entertain company, that there must be a degree of elaborate attention, otherwise company will think themselves neglected; and such attention is no doubt very fatiguing. he proceeded: 'i would not, however, be a stranger in my own county; i would visit my neighbours, and receive their visits; but i would not be in haste to return visits. if a gentleman comes to see me, i tell him he does me a great deal of honour. i do not go to see him perhaps for ten weeks; then we are very complaisant to each other. no, sir, you will have much more influence by giving or lending money where it is wanted, than by hospitality.' on saturday, may , i saw him for a short time. having mentioned that i had that morning been with old mr. sheridan, he remembered their former intimacy with a cordial warmth, and said to me, 'tell mr. sheridan, i shall be glad to see him, and shake hands with him.' boswell. 'it is to me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so long.' johnson. 'why, sir, it is not altogether resentment that he does not visit me; it is partly falling out of the habit,--partly disgust, as one has at a drug that has made him sick. besides, he knows that i laugh at his oratory.' another day i spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as well as i, had a very high opinion. he expatiated in his praise; but added, 'sir, he is a cursed whig, a bottomless whig, as they all are now.' on monday, may , i found him at tea, and the celebrated miss burney, the authour of evelina and cecilia, with him. i asked if there would be any speakers in parliament, if there were no places to be obtained. johnson. 'yes, sir. why do you speak here? either to instruct and entertain, which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a selfish motive.' i mentioned cecilia. johnson. (with an air of animated satisfaction,) 'sir, if you talk of cecilia, talk on.' we talked of mr. barry's exhibition of his pictures. johnson. 'whatever the hand may have done, the mind has done its part. there is a grasp of mind there which you find nowhere else.' i asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has overcome wicked inclinations, is the best. johnson. 'sir, to you, the man who has overcome wicked inclinations is not the best. he has more merit to himself: i would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest principles. there is a witty satirical story of foote. he had a small bust of garrick placed upon his bureau. "you may be surprized (said he,) that i allow him to be so near my gold;--but you will observe he has no hands."' on friday, may , being to set out for scotland next morning, i passed a part of the day with him in more than usual earnestness; as his health was in a more precarious state than at any time when i had parted from him. he, however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. i mentioned one who was a very learned man. johnson. 'yes, sir, he has a great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. there is never one idea by the side of another; 'tis all entangled: and their he drives it so aukwardly upon conversation.' he said, 'get as much force of mind as you can. live within your income. always have something saved at the end of the year. let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong. i assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his acquaintance there never had been any one who had a more sincere respect and affection for him than i had. he said, 'i believe it, sir. were i in distress, there is no man to whom i should sooner come than to you. i should like to come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live mostly on milk, and be taken care of by mrs. boswell. she and i are good friends now; are we not?' he embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when i was leaving him for any length of time. i walked from his door to-day, with a fearful apprehension of what might happen before i returned. my anxious apprehensions at parting with him this year, proved to be but too well founded; for not long afterwards he had a dreadful stroke of the palsy, of which there are very full and accurate accounts in letters written by himself, to shew with what composure of mind, and resignation to the divine will, his steady piety enabled him to behave. 'to mr. edmund allen. 'dear sir,--it has pleased god, this morning, to deprive me of the powers of speech; and as i do not know but that it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of my senses, i request you will on the receipt of this note, come to me, and act for me, as the exigencies of my case may require. i am, sincerely yours, 'june , .' 'sam. johnson.' two days after he wrote thus to mrs. thrale:-- 'on monday, the th, i sat for my picture, and walked a considerable way with little inconvenience. in the afternoon and evening i felt myself light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. thus i went to bed, and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, when i felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, i suppose, about half a minute. i was alarmed, and prayed god, that however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. this prayer, that i might try the integrity of my faculties, i made in latin verse. the lines were not very good, but i knew them not to be very good: i made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired in my faculties. 'soon after i perceived that i had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. i had no pain, and so little dejection in this dreadful state, that i wondered at my own apathy, and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would excite less horrour than seems now to attend it. 'in order to rouse the vocal organs, i took two drams. wine has been celebrated for the production of eloquence. i put myself into violent motion, and i think repeated it; but all was vain. i then went to bed, and strange as it may seem, i think slept. when i saw light, it was time to contrive what i should do. though god stopped my speech, he left me my hand; i enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend lawrence, who now perhaps overlooks me as i am writing, and rejoices that i have what he wanted. my first note was necessarily to my servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he should read what i put into his hands. 'i then wrote a card to mr. allen, that i might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. in penning this note, i had some difficulty; my hand, i knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. i then wrote to dr. taylor to come to me, and bring dr. heberden; and i sent to dr. brocklesby, who is my neighbour. my physicians are very friendly, and give me great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. i have so far recovered my vocal powers, as to repeat the lord's prayer with no very imperfect articulation. my memory, i hope, yet remains as it was; but such an attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty.' 'to mr. thomas davies. 'dear sir,--i have had, indeed, a very heavy blow; but god, who yet spares my life, i humbly hope will spare my understanding, and restore my speech. as i am not at all helpless, i want no particular assistance, but am strongly affected by mrs. davies's tenderness; and when i think she can do me good, shall be very glad to call upon her. i had ordered friends to be shut out; but one or two have found the way in; and if you come you shall be admitted: for i know not whom i can see, that will bring more amusement on his tongue, or more kindness in his heart. i am, &c. 'june , .' 'sam. johnson.' it gives me great pleasure to preserve such a memorial of johnson's regard for mr. davies, to whom i was indebted for my introduction to him. he indeed loved davies cordially, of which i shall give the following little evidence. one day when he had treated him with too much asperity, tom, who was not without pride and spirit, went off in a passion; but he had hardly reached home when frank, who had been sent after him, delivered this note:--'come, come, dear davies, i am always sorry when we quarrel; send me word that we are friends.' such was the general vigour of his constitution, that he recovered from this alarming and severe attack with wonderful quickness; so that in july he was able to make a visit to mr. langton at rochester, where he passed about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of his life. in august he went as far as the neighbourhood of salisbury, to heale, the seat of william bowles, esq., a gentleman whom i have heard him praise for exemplary religious order in his family. in his diary i find a short but honourable mention of this visit:--'august , i came to heale without fatigue. , i am entertained quite to my mind.' while he was here he had a letter from dr. brocklesby, acquainting him of the death of mrs. williams, which affected him a good deal. though for several years her temper had not been complacent, she had valuable qualities, and her departure left a blank in his house. upon this occasion he, according to his habitual course of piety, composed a prayer. i shall here insert a few particulars concerning him, with which i have been favoured by one of his friends. 'he spoke often in praise of french literature. "the french are excellent in this, (he would say,) they have a book on every subject." from what he had seen of them he denied them the praise of superiour politeness, and mentioned, with very visible disgust, the custom they have of spitting on the floors of their apartments. "this, (said the doctor), is as gross a thing as can well be done; and one wonders how any man, or set of men, can persist in so offensive a practice for a whole day together; one should expect that the first effort towards civilization would remove it even among savages." 'chymistry was always an interesting pursuit with dr. johnson. whilst he was in wiltshire, he attended some experiments that were made by a physician at salisbury, on the new kinds of air. in the course of the experiments frequent mention being made of dr. priestley, dr. johnson knit his brows, and in a stern manner inquired, "why do we hear so much of dr. priestley?" he was very properly answered, "sir, because we are indebted to him for these important discoveries." on this dr. johnson appeared well content; and replied, "well, well, i believe we are; and let every man have the honour he has merited."' 'a friend was one day, about two years before his death, struck with some instance of dr. johnson's great candour. "well, sir, (said he,) i will always say that you are a very candid man." "will you, (replied the doctor,) i doubt then you will be very singular. but, indeed, sir, (continued he,) i look upon myself to be a man very much misunderstood. i am not an uncandid, nor am i a severe man. i sometimes say more than i mean, in jest; and people are apt to believe me serious: however, i am more candid than i was when i was younger. as i know more of mankind i expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man a good man, upon easier terms than i was formerly."' on his return from heale he wrote to dr. burney:-- 'i came home on the th at noon to a very disconsolate house. you and i have lost our friends; but you have more friends at home. my domestick companion is taken from me. she is much missed, for her acquisitions were many, and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of every conversation. i am not well enough to go much out; and to sit, and eat, or fast alone, is very wearisome. i always mean to send my compliments to all the ladies.' his fortitude and patience met with severe trials during this year. the stroke of the palsy has been related circumstantially; but he was also afflicted with the gout, and was besides troubled with a complaint which not only was attended with immediate inconvenience, but threatened him with a chirurgical operation, from which most men would shrink. the complaint was a sarcocele, which johnson bore with uncommon firmness, and was not at all frightened while he looked forward to amputation. he was attended by mr. pott and mr. cruikshank. happily the complaint abated without his being put to the torture of amputation. but we must surely admire the manly resolution which he discovered while it hung over him. he this autumn received a visit from the celebrated mrs. siddons. he gives this account of it in one of his letters to mrs. thrale:-- 'mrs. siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great modesty and propriety, and left nothing behind her to be censured or despised. neither praise nor money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind, seem to have depraved her. i shall be glad to see her again. her brother kemble calls on me, and pleases me very well. mrs. siddons and i talked of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this winter the characters of constance, catharine, and isabella, in shakspeare.' mr. kemble has favoured me with the following minute of what passed at this visit:-- 'when mrs. siddons came into the room, there happened to be no chair ready for her, which he observing, said with a smile, "madam, you who so often occasion a want of seats to other people, will the more easily excuse the want of one yourself." 'having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour entered upon a consideration of the english drama; and, among other inquiries, particularly asked her which of shakspeare's characters she was most pleased with. upon her answering that she thought the character of queen catharine, in henry the eighth, the most natural:--"i think so too, madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, i will once more hobble out to the theatre myself." mrs. siddons promised she would do herself the honour of acting his favourite part for him; but many circumstances happened to prevent the representation of king henry the eighth during the doctor's life. 'in the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon the merits of some of the principal performers whom he remembered to have seen upon the stage. "mrs. porter in the vehemence of rage, and mrs. clive in the sprightliness of humour, i have never seen equalled. what clive did best, she did better than garrick; but could not do half so many things well; she was a better romp than any i ever saw in nature. pritchard, in common life, was a vulgar ideot; she would talk of her gownd: but, when she appeared upon the stage, seemed to be inspired by gentility and understanding. i once talked with colley cibber, and thought him ignorant of the principles of his art. garrick, madam; was no declaimer; there was not one of his own scene-shifters who could not have spoken to be, or not to be, better than he did; yet he was the only actor i ever saw, whom i could call a master both in tragedy and comedy; though i liked him best in comedy. a true conception of character, and natural expression of it, were his distinguished excellencies." having expatiated, with his usual force and eloquence, on mr. garrick's extraordinary eminence as an actor, he concluded with this compliment to his social talents: "and after all, madam, i thought him less to be envied on the stage than at the head of a table."' johnson, indeed, had thought more upon the subject of acting than might be generally supposed. talking of it one day to mr. kemble, he said, 'are you, sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe yourself transformed into the very character you represent?' upon mr. kemble's answering that he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself; 'to be sure not, sir, (said johnson;) the thing is impossible. and if garrick really believed himself to be that monster, richard the third, he deserved to be hanged every time he performed it.' i find in this, as in former years, notices of his kind attention to mrs. gardiner, who, though in the humble station of a tallow-chandler upon snow-hill, was a woman of excellent good sense, pious, and charitable. she told me, she had been introduced to him by mrs. masters, the poetess, whose volumes he revised, and, it is said, illuminated here and there with a ray of his own genius. mrs. gardiner was very zealous for the support of the ladies' charity-school, in the parish of st. sepulchre. it is confined to females; and, i am told, it afforded a hint for the story of betty broom in the idler. the late ingenious mr. mickle, some time before his death, wrote me a letter concerning dr. johnson, in which he mentions,--'i was upwards of twelve years acquainted with him, was frequently in his company, always talked with ease to him, and can truly say, that i never received from him one rough word.' mr. mickle reminds me in this letter of a conversation, at dinner one day at mr. hoole's with dr. johnson, when mr. nicol the king's bookseller and i attempted to controvert the maxim, 'better that ten guilty should escape, than one innocent person suffer;' and were answered by dr. johnson with great power of reasoning and eloquence. i am very sorry that i have no record of that day: but i well recollect my illustrious friend's having ably shewn, that unless civil institutions insure protection to the innocent, all the confidence which mankind should have in them would be lost. notwithstanding the complication of disorders under which johnson now laboured, he did not resign himself to despondency and discontent, but with wisdom and spirit endeavoured to console and amuse his mind with as many innocent enjoyments as he could procure. sir john hawkins has mentioned the cordiality with which he insisted that such of the members of the old club in ivy-lane as survived, should meet again and dine together, which they did, twice at a tavern and once at his house: and in order to insure himself society in the evening for three days in the week, he instituted a club at the essex head, in essex-street, then kept by samuel greaves, an old servant of mr. thrale's. 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir,--it is inconvenient to me to come out, i should else have waited on you with an account of a little evening club which we are establishing in essex-street, in the strand, and of which you are desired to be one. it will be held at the essex head, now kept by an old servant of thrale's. the company is numerous, and, as you will see by the list, miscellaneous. the terms are lax, and the expences light. mr. barry was adopted by dr. brocklesby, who joined with me in forming the plan. we meet thrice a week, and he who misses forfeits two-pence. 'if you are willing to become a member, draw a line under your name. return the list. we meet for the first time on monday at eight. i am, &c. 'dec. , .' 'sam. johnson.' it did not suit sir joshua to be one of this club. but when i mention only mr. daines barrington, dr. brocklesby, mr. murphy, mr. john nichols, mr. cooke, mr. joddrel, mr. paradise, dr. horsley, mr. windham,* i shall sufficiently obviate the misrepresentation of it by sir john hawkins, as if it had been a low ale-house association, by which johnson was degraded. johnson himself, like his namesake old ben, composed the rules of his club. * i was in scotland when this club was founded, and during all the winter. johnson, however, declared i should be a member, and invented a word upon the occasion: boswell (said he,) is a very clubable man.' when i came to town i was proposed by mr. barrington, and chosen. i believe there are few societies where there is better conversation or more decorum, several of us resolved to continue it after our great founder was removed by death. other members were added; and now, above eight years since that loss, we go on happily.--boswell. in the end of this year he was seized with a spasmodick asthma of such violence, that he was confined to the house in great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his chair, a recumbent posture being so hurtful to his respiration, that he could not endure lying in bed; and there came upon him at the same time that oppressive and fatal disease, a dropsy. it was a very severe winter, which probably aggravated his complaints; and the solitude in which mr. levett and mrs. williams had left him, rendered his life very gloomy. mrs. desmoulins, who still lived, was herself so very ill, that she could contribute very little to his relief. he, however, had none of that unsocial shyness which we commonly see in people afflicted with sickness. he did not hide his head from the world, in solitary abstraction; he did not deny himself to the visits of his friends and acquaintances; but at all times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was ready for conversation as in his best days. 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam,--you may perhaps think me negligent that i have not written to you again upon the loss of your brother; but condolences and consolations are such common and such useless things, that the omission of them is no great crime: and my own diseases occupy my mind, and engage my care. my nights are miserably restless, and my days, therefore, are heavy. i try, however, to hold up my head as high as i can. 'i am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the spring and the summer may, in some degree, restore it: but if not, we must submit to the inconveniences of time, as to the other dispensations of eternal goodness. pray for me, and write to me, or let mr. pearson write for you. i am, &c. 'london, nov. , .' 'sam. johnson.' : aetat. .]--and now i am arrived at the last year of the life of samuel johnson, a year in which, although passed in severe indisposition, he nevertheless gave many evidences of the continuance of those wondrous powers of mind, which raised him so high in the intellectual world. his conversation and his letters of this year were in no respect inferiour to those of former years. in consequence of johnson's request that i should ask our physicians about his case, and desire sir alexander dick to send his opinion, i transmitted him a letter from that very amiable baronet, then in his eighty-first year, with his faculties as entire as ever; and mentioned his expressions to me in the note accompanying it: 'with my most affectionate wishes for dr. johnson's recovery, in which his friends, his country, and all mankind have so deep a stake:' and at the same time a full opinion upon his case by dr. gillespie, who, like dr. cullen, had the advantage of having passed through the gradations of surgery and pharmacy, and by study and practice had attained to such skill, that my father settled on him two hundred pounds a year for five years, and fifty pounds a year during his life, as an honorarium to secure his particular attendance. i also applied to three of the eminent physicians who had chairs in our celebrated school of medicine at edinburgh, doctors cullen, hope, and monro. all of them paid the most polite attention to my letter, and its venerable object. dr. cullen's words concerning him were, 'it would give me the greatest pleasure to be of any service to a man whom the publick properly esteem, and whom i esteem and respect as much as i do dr. johnson.' dr. hope's, 'few people have a better claim on me than your friend, as hardly a day passes that i do not ask his opinion about this or that word.' dr. monro's, 'i most sincerely join you in sympathizing with that very worthy and ingenious character, from whom his country has derived much instruction and entertainment.' 'to the reverend dr. taylor, ashbourne, derbyshire. 'dear sir,--what can be the reason that i hear nothing from you? i hope nothing disables you from writing. what i have seen, and what i have felt, gives me reason to fear every thing. do not omit giving me the comfort of knowing, that after all my losses i have yet a friend left. 'i want every comfort. my life is very solitary and very cheerless. though it has pleased god wonderfully to deliver me from the dropsy, i am yet very weak, and have not passed the door since the th of december. i hope for some help from warm weather, which will surely come in time. 'i could not have the consent of the physicians to go to church yesterday; i therefore received the holy sacrament at home, in the room where i communicated with dear mrs. williams, a little before her death. o! my friend, the approach of death is very dreadful. i am afraid to think on that which i know i cannot avoid. it is vain to look round and round for that help which cannot be had. yet we hope and hope, and fancy that he who has lived to-day may live to-morrow. but let us learn to derive our hope only from god. 'in the mean time, let us be kind to one another. i have no friend now living but you and mr. hector, that was the friend of my youth. do not neglect, dear sir, yours affectionately, 'london, easter-monday, april , .' 'sam. johnson.' what follows is a beautiful specimen of his gentleness and complacency to a young lady his god-child, one of the daughters of his friend mr. langton, then i think in her seventh year. he took the trouble to write it in a large round hand, nearly resembling printed characters, that she might have the satisfaction of reading it herself. the original lies before me, but shall be faithfully restored to her; and i dare say will be preserved by her as a jewel as long as she lives. 'to miss jane langton, in rochester, kent. 'my dearest miss jenny,--i am sorry that your pretty letter has been so long without being answered; but, when i am not pretty well, i do not always write plain enough for young ladies. i am glad, my dear, to see that you write so well, and hope that you mind your pen, your book, and your needle, for they are all necessary. your books will give you knowledge, and make you respected; and your needle will find you useful employment when you do not care to read. when you are a little older, i hope you will be very diligent in learning arithmetick, and, above all, that through your whole life you will carefully say your prayers, and read your bible. i am, my dear, your most humble servant, 'may , .' 'sam. johnson.' on wednesday, may , i arrived in london, and next morning had the pleasure to find dr. johnson greatly recovered. i but just saw him; for a coach was waiting to carry him to islington, to the house of his friend the reverend mr. strahan, where he went sometimes for the benefit of good air, which, notwithstanding his having formerly laughed at the general opinion upon the subject, he now acknowledged was conducive to health. one morning afterwards, when i found him alone, he communicated to me, with solemn earnestness, a very remarkable circumstance which had happened in the course of his illness, when he was much distressed by the dropsy. he had shut himself up, and employed a day in particular exercises of religion--fasting, humiliation, and prayer. on a sudden he obtained extraordinary relief, for which he looked up to heaven with grateful devotion. he made no direct inference from this fact; but from his manner of telling it, i could perceive that it appeared to him as something more than an incident in the common course of events. for my own part, i have no difficulty to avow that cast of thinking, which by many modern pretenders to wisdom is called superstitious. but here i think even men of dry rationality may believe, that there was an intermediate interposition of divine providence, and that 'the fervent prayer of this righteous man' availed. on saturday, may , i dined with him at dr. brocklesby's, where were colonel vallancy, mr. murphy, and that ever-cheerful companion mr. devaynes, apothecary to his majesty. of these days, and others on which i saw him, i have no memorials, except the general recollection of his being able and animated in conversation, and appearing to relish society as much as the youngest man. i find only these three small particulars:--when a person was mentioned, who said, 'i have lived fifty-one years in this world without having had ten minutes of uneasiness;' he exclaimed, 'the man who says so, lies: he attempts to impose on human credulity.' the bishop of exeter in vain observed, that men were very different. his lordship's manner was not impressive, and i learnt afterwards that johnson did not find out that the person who talked to him was a prelate; if he had, i doubt not that he would have treated him with more respect; for once talking of george psalmanazar, whom he reverenced for his piety, he said, 'i should as soon think of contradicting a bishop.' one of the company* provoked him greatly by doing what he could least of all bear, which was quoting something of his own writing, against what he then maintained. 'what, sir, (cried the gentleman,) do you say to "the busy day, the peaceful night, unfelt, uncounted, glided by?"'-- johnson finding himself thus presented as giving an instance of a man who had lived without uneasiness, was much offended, for he looked upon such a quotation as unfair. his anger burst out in an unjustifiable retort, insinuating that the gentleman's remark was a sally of ebriety; 'sir, there is one passion i would advise you to command: when you have drunk out that glass, don't drink another.' here was exemplified what goldsmith said of him, with the aid of a very witty image from one of cibber's comedies: 'there is no arguing with johnson; for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it.' another was this: when a gentleman of eminence in the literary world was violently censured for attacking people by anonymous paragraphs in news-papers; he, from the spirit of contradiction as i thought, took up his defence, and said, 'come, come, this is not so terrible a crime; he means only to vex them a little. i do not say that i should do it; but there is a great difference between him and me; what is fit for hephaestion is not fit for alexander.' another, when i told him that a young and handsome countess had said to me, 'i should think that to be praised by dr. johnson would make one a fool all one's life;' and that i answered, 'madam, i shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him,' he said, 'i am too old to be made a fool; but if you say i am made a fool, i shall not deny it. i am much pleased with a compliment, especially from a pretty woman.' * boswell himself, likely enough.--hill. on the evening of saturday, may , he was in fine spirits, at our essex-head club. he told us, 'i dined yesterday at mrs. garrick's, with mrs. carter, miss hannah more, and miss fanny burney. three such women are not to be found: i know not where i could find a fourth, except mrs. lennox, who is superiour to them all.' boswell. 'what! had you them all to yourself, sir?' johnson. 'i had them all as much as they were had; but it might have been better had there been more company there.' boswell. 'might not mrs. montagu have been a fourth?' johnson. 'sir, mrs. montagu does not make a trade of her wit; but mrs. montagu is a very extraordinary woman; she has a constant stream of conversation, and it is always impregnated; it has always meaning.' boswell. 'mr. burke has a constant stream of conversation.' johnson. 'yes, sir; if a man were to go by chance at the same time with burke under a shed, to shun a shower, he would say--"this is an extraordinary man." if burke should go into a stable to see his horse drest, the ostler would say--"we have had an extraordinary man here."' boswell. 'foote was a man who never failed in conversation. if he had gone into a stable--' johnson. 'sir, if he had gone into a stable, the ostler would have said, "here has been a comical fellow"; but he would not have respected him.' boswell. 'and, sir, the ostler would have answered him, would have given him as good as he brought, as the common saying is.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and foote would have answered the ostler.--when burke does not descend to be merry, his conversation is very superiour indeed. there is no proportion between the powers which he shews in serious talk and in jocularity. when he lets himself down to that, he is in the kennel.' i have in another place opposed, and i hope with success, dr. johnson's very singular and erroneous notion as to mr. burke's pleasantry. mr. windham now said low to me, that he differed from our great friend in this observation; for that mr. burke was often very happy in his merriment. it would not have been right for either of us to have contradicted johnson at this time, in a society all of whom did not know and value mr. burke as much as we did. it might have occasioned something more rough, and at any rate would probably have checked the flow of johnson's good-humour. he called to us with a sudden air of exultation, as the thought started into his mind, 'o! gentlemen, i must tell you a very great thing. the empress of russia has ordered the rambler to be translated into the russian language: so i shall be read on the banks of the wolga. horace boasts that his fame would extend as far as the banks of the rhone; now the wolga is farther from me than the rhone was from horace.' boswell. 'you must certainly be pleased with this, sir.' johnson. 'i am pleased, sir, to be sure. a man is pleased to find he has succeeded in that which he has endeavoured to do.' one of the company mentioned his having seen a noble person driving in his carriage, and looking exceedingly well, notwithstanding his great age. johnson. 'ah, sir; that is nothing. bacon observes, that a stout healthy old man is like a tower undermined.' on sunday, may , i found him alone; he talked of mrs. thrale with much concern, saying, 'sir, she has done every thing wrong, since thrale's bridle was off her neck;' and was proceeding to mention some circumstances which have since been the subject of publick discussion, when he was interrupted by the arrival of dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury. in one of his little manuscript diaries, about this time, i find a short notice, which marks his amiable disposition more certainly than a thousand studied declarations.--'afternoon spent cheerfully and elegantly, i hope without offence to god or man; though in no holy duty, yet in the general exercise and cultivation of benevolence.' on monday, may , i dined with him at mr. dilly's, where were colonel vallancy, the reverend dr. gibbons, and mr. capel lofft, who, though a most zealous whig, has a mind so full of learning and knowledge, and so much exercised in various departments, and withal so much liberality, that the stupendous powers of the literary goliath, though they did not frighten this little david of popular spirit, could not but excite his admiration. there was also mr. braithwaite of the post-office, that amiable and friendly man, who, with modest and unassuming manners, has associated with many of the wits of the age. johnson was very quiescent to-day. perhaps too i was indolent. i find nothing more of him in my notes, but that when i mentioned that i had seen in the king's library sixty-three editions of my favourite thomas a kempis, amongst which it was in eight languages, latin, german, french, italian, spanish, english, arabick, and armenian, he said, he thought it unnecessary to collect many editions of a book, which were all the same, except as to the paper and print; he would have the original, and all the translations, and all the editions which had any variations in the text. he approved of the famous collection of editions of horace by douglas, mentioned by pope, who is said to have had a closet filled with them; and he added, every man should try to collect one book in that manner, and present it to a publick library.' on wednesday, may , i sat a part of the evening with him, by ourselves. i observed, that the death of our friends might be a consolation against the fear of our own dissolution, because we might have more friends in the other world than in this. he perhaps felt this as a reflection upon his apprehension as to death; and said, with heat, 'how can a man know where his departed friends are, or whether they will be his friends in the other world? how many friendships have you known formed upon principles of virtue? most friendships are formed by caprice or by chance, mere confederacies in vice or leagues in folly.' we talked of our worthy friend mr. langton. he said, 'i know not who will go to heaven if langton does not. sir, i could almost say, sit anima mea cum langtono.' i mentioned a very eminent friend as a virtuous man. johnson. 'yes, sir; but ------ has not the evangelical virtue of langton. ------, i am afraid, would not scruple to pick up a wench.' he however charged mr. langton with what he thought want of judgment upon an interesting occasion. 'when i was ill, (said he,) i desired he would tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty. sir, he brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts of scripture, recommending christian charity. and when i questioned him what occasion i had given for such an animadversion, all that he could say amounted to this,--that i sometimes contradicted people in conversation. now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' boswell. 'i suppose he meant the manner of doing it; roughly,--and harshly.' johnson. 'and who is the worse for that?' boswell. 'it hurts people of weak nerves.' johnson. 'i know no such weak-nerved people.' mr. burke, to whom i related this conference, said, 'it is well, if when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience than having been a little rough in conversation.' johnson, at the time when the paper was presented to him, though at first pleased with the attention of his friend, whom he thanked in an earnest manner, soon exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, 'what is your drift, sir?' sir joshua reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a scene for a comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and belabour his confessor. he had dined that day at mr. hoole's, and miss helen maria williams being expected in the evening, mr. hoole put into his hands her beautiful ode on the peace: johnson read it over, and when this elegant and accomplished young lady was presented to him, he took her by the hand in the most courteous manner, and repeated the finest stanza of her poem; this was the most delicate and pleasing compliment he could pay. her respectable friend, dr. kippis, from whom i had this anecdote, was standing by, and was not a little gratified. miss williams told me, that the only other time she was fortunate enough to be in dr. johnson's company, he asked her to sit down by him, which she did, and upon her inquiring how he was, he answered, 'i am very ill indeed, madam. i am very ill even when you are near me; what should i be were you at a distance?' he had now a great desire to go to oxford, as his first jaunt after his illness; we talked of it for some days, and i had promised to accompany him. he was impatient and fretful to-night, because i did not at once agree to go with him on thursday. when i considered how ill he had been, and what allowance should be made for the influence of sickness upon his temper, i resolved to indulge him, though with some inconvenience to myself, as i wished to attend the musical meeting in honour of handel, in westminster-abbey, on the following saturday. in the midst of his own diseases and pains, he was ever compassionate to the distresses of others, and actively earnest in procuring them aid, as appears from a note to sir joshua reynolds, of june, in these words:--'i am ashamed to ask for some relief for a poor man, to whom, i hope, i have given what i can be expected to spare. the man importunes me, and the blow goes round. i am going to try another air on thursday.' on thursday, june , the oxford post-coach took us up in the morning at bolt-court. the other two passengers were mrs. beresford and her daughter, two very agreeable ladies from america; they were going to worcestershire, where they then resided. frank had been sent by his master the day before to take places for us; and i found, from the waybill, that dr. johnson had made our names be put down. mrs. beresford, who had read it, whispered me, 'is this the great dr. johnson?' i told her it was; so she was then prepared to listen. as she soon happened to mention in a voice so low that johnson did not hear it, that her husband had been a member of the american congress, i cautioned her to beware of introducing that subject, as she must know how very violent johnson was against the people of that country. he talked a great deal, but i am sorry i have preserved little of the conversation. miss beresford was so much charmed, that she said to me aside, 'how he does talk! every sentence is an essay.' she amused herself in the coach with knotting; he would scarcely allow this species of employment any merit. 'next to mere idleness (said he,) i think knotting is to be reckoned in the scale of insignificance; though i once attempted to learn knotting. dempster's sister (looking to me,) endeavoured to teach me it; but i made no progress.' i was surprised at his talking without reserve in the publick post-coach of the state of his affairs; 'i have (said he,) about the world i think above a thousand pounds, which i intend shall afford frank an annuity of seventy pounds a year.' indeed his openness with people at a first interview was remarkable. he said once to mr. langton, 'i think i am like squire richard in the journey to london, "i'm never strange in a strange place."' he was truly social. he strongly censured what is much too common in england among persons of condition,--maintaining an absolute silence, when unknown to each other; as for instance, when occasionally brought together in a room before the master or mistress of the house has appeared. 'sir, that is being so uncivilised as not to understand the common rights of humanity.' at the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatisfied with some roast mutton which we had for dinner. the ladies i saw wondered to see the great philosopher, whose wisdom and wit they had been admiring all the way, get into ill-humour from such a cause. he scolded the waiter, saying, 'it is as bad as bad can be: it is ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-drest.' he bore the journey very well, and seemed to feel himself elevated as he approached oxford, that magnificent and venerable seat of learning, orthodoxy, and toryism. frank came in the heavy coach, in readiness to attend him; and we were received with the most polite hospitality at the house of his old friend dr. adams, master of pembroke college, who had given us a kind invitation. before we were set down, i communicated to johnson, my having engaged to return to london directly, for the reason i have mentioned, but that i would hasten back to him again. he was pleased that i had made this journey merely to keep him company. he was easy and placid with dr. adams, mrs. and miss adams, and mrs. kennicot, widow of the learned hebraean, who was here on a visit. he soon dispatched the inquiries which were made about his illness and recovery, by a short and distinct narrative; and then assuming a gay air, repeated from swift,-- 'nor think on our approaching ills, and talk of spectacles and pills.' i fulfilled my intention by going to london, and returned to oxford on wednesday the th of june, when i was happy to find myself again in the same agreeable circle at pembroke college, with the comfortable prospect of making some stay. johnson welcomed my return with more than ordinary glee. next morning at breakfast, he pointed out a passage in savage's wanderer, saying, 'these are fine verses.' 'if (said he,) i had written with hostility of warburton in my shakspeare, i should have quoted this couplet:-- "here learning, blinded first and then beguil'd, looks dark as ignorance, as fancy wild." you see they'd have fitted him to a t,' (smiling.) dr. adams. 'but you did not write against warburton.' johnson. no, sir, i treated him with great respect both in my preface and in my notes.' after dinner, when one of us talked of there being a great enmity between whig and tory;--johnson. 'why not so much, i think, unless when they come into competition with each other. there is none when they are only common acquaintance, none when they are of different sexes. a tory will marry into a whig family, and a whig into a tory family, without any reluctance. but indeed, in a matter of much more concern than political tenets, and that is religion, men and women do not concern themselves much about difference of opinion; and ladies set no value on the moral character of men who pay their addresses to them; the greatest profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue, and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three times a day.' our ladies endeavoured to defend their sex from this charge; but he roared them down! 'no, no, a lady will take jonathan wild as readily as st. austin, if he has threepence more; and, what is worse, her parents will give her to him. women have a perpetual envy of our vices; they are less vicious than we, not from choice, but because we restrict them; they are the slaves of order and fashion; their virtue is of more consequence to us than our own, so far as concerns this world.' miss adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, and said, 'suppose i had a mind to marry that gentleman, would my parents consent?' johnson. 'yes, they'd consent, and you'd go. you'd go though they did not consent.' miss adams. 'perhaps their opposing might make me go.' johnson. 'o, very well; you'd take one whom you think a bad man, to have the pleasure of vexing your parents. you put me in mind of dr. barrowby, the physician, who was very fond of swine's flesh. one day, when he was eating it, he said, "i wish i was a jew." "why so? (said somebody;) the jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat." "because, (said he,) i should then have the gust of eating it, with the pleasure of sinning."' johnson then proceeded in his declamation. miss adams soon afterwards made an observation that i do not recollect, which pleased him much: he said with a good-humoured smile, 'that there should be so much excellence united with so much depravity, is strange.' indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, and accomplishments, and her constant attention to dr. johnson, were not lost upon him. she happened to tell him that a little coffeepot, in which she had made his coffee, was the only thing she could call her own. he turned to her with a complacent gallantry, 'don't say so, my dear; i hope you don't reckon my heart as nothing.' on friday, june , we talked at breakfast, of forms of prayer. johnson. 'i know of no good prayers but those in the book of common prayer.' dr. adams. (in a very earnest manner:) 'i wish, sir, you would compose some family prayers.' johnson. 'i will not compose prayers for you, sir, because you can do it for yourself. but i have thought of getting together all the books of prayers which i could, selecting those which should appear to me the best, putting out some, inserting others, adding some prayers of my own, and prefixing a discourse on prayer.' we all now gathered about him, and two or three of us at a time joined in pressing him to execute this plan. he seemed to be a little displeased at the manner of our importunity, and in great agitation called out, 'do not talk thus of what is so aweful. i know not what time god will allow me in this world. there are many things which i wish to do.' some of us persisted, and dr. adams said, 'i never was more serious about any thing in my life.' johnson. 'let me alone, let me alone; i am overpowered.' and then he put his hands before his face, and reclined for some time upon the table. dr. johnson and i went in dr. adams's coach to dine with dr. nowell, principal of st. mary hall, at his beautiful villa at iffley, on the banks of the isis, about two miles from oxford. while we were upon the road, i had the resolution to ask johnson whether he thought that the roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would not have done more good if he had been more gentle. i proceeded to answer myself thus: 'perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such authority without it.' johnson. 'no, sir; i have done more good as i am. obscenity and impiety have always been repressed in my company.' boswell. 'true, sir; and that is more than can be said of every bishop. greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a bishop, though a very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding such awe. yet, sir, many people who might have been benefited by your conversation, have been frightened away. a worthy friend of ours has told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.' johnson. 'sir, he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. if he had not, it was better he did not talk.' we talked of a certain clergyman of extraordinary character, who by exerting his talents in writing on temporary topicks, and displaying uncommon intrepidity, had raised himself to affluence. i maintained that we ought not to be indignant at his success; for merit of every sort was entitled to reward. johnson. 'sir, i will not allow this man to have merit. no, sir; what he has is rather the contrary; i will, indeed, allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him credit. we have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back. courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice.' mr. henderson, with whom i had sauntered in the venerable walks of merton college, and found him a very learned and pious man, supped with us. dr. johnson surprised him not a little, by acknowledging with a look of horrour, that he was much oppressed by the fear of death. the amiable dr. adams suggested that god was infinitely good. johnson. 'that he is infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his nature will allow, i certainly believe; but it is necessary for good upon the whole, that individuals should be punished. as to an individual, therefore, he is not infinitely good; and as i cannot be sure that i have fulfilled the conditions on which salvation is granted, i am afraid i may be one of those who shall be damned.' (looking dismally). dr. adams. 'what do you mean by damned?' johnson. (passionately and loudly,) 'sent to hell, sir, and punished everlastingly!' dr. adams. 'i don't believe that doctrine.' johnson. 'hold, sir, do you believe that some will be punished at all?' dr. adams. 'being excluded from heaven will be a punishment; yet there may be no great positive suffering.' johnson. well, sir; but, if you admit any degree of punishment, there is an end of your argument for infinite goodness simply considered; for, infinite goodness would inflict no punishment whatever. there is not infinite goodness physically considered; morally there is.' boswell. 'but may not a man attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy from the fear of death?' johnson. 'a man may have such a degree of hope as to keep him quiet. you see i am not quiet, from the vehemence with which i talk; but i do not despair.' mrs. adams. 'you seem, sir, to forget the merits of our redeemer.' johnson. 'madam, i do not forget the merits of my redeemer; but my redeemer has said that he will set some on his right hand and some on his left.' he was in gloomy agitation, and said, 'i'll have no more on't.' if what has now been stated should be urged by the enemies of christianity, as if its influence on the mind were not benignant, let it be remembered, that johnson's temperament was melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of futurity are often a common effect. we shall presently see that when he approached nearer to his aweful change, his mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much fortitude as becomes a thinking man in that situation. from the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, whether it was upon the whole more happy or miserable. johnson was decidedly for the balance of misery: in confirmation of which i maintained, that no man would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced. johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms. on sunday, june , our philosopher was calm at breakfast. there was something exceedingly pleasing in our leading a college life, without restraint, and with superiour elegance, in consequence of our living in the master's house, and having the company of ladies. mrs. kennicot related, in his presence, a lively saying of dr. johnson to miss hannah more, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who had written paradise lost should write such poor sonnets:--'milton, madam, was a genius that could cut a colossus from a rock; but could not carve heads upon cherry-stones.' on monday, june , and tuesday, , dr. johnson and i dined, on one of them, i forget which, with mr. mickle, translator of the lusiad, at wheatley, a very pretty country place a few miles from oxford; and on the other with dr. wetherell, master of university college. from dr. wetherell's he went to visit mr. sackville parker, the bookseller; and when he returned to us, gave the following account of his visit, saying, 'i have been to see my old friend, sack parker; i find he has married his maid; he has done right. she had lived with him many years in great confidence, and they had mingled minds; i do not think he could have found any wife that would have made him so happy. the woman was very attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with them, and to say what i liked, and she would be sure to get it for me. poor sack! he is very ill, indeed. we parted as never to meet again. it has quite broke me down.' this pathetic narrative was strangely diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man's having married his maid. i could not but feel it as in some degree ludicrous. in the morning of tuesday, june , while we sat at dr. adams's, we talked of a printed letter from the reverend herbert croft, to a young gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the end of whatever books he should begin to read. johnson. 'this is surely a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life. a book may be good for nothing; or there may be only one thing in it worth knowing; are we to read it all through? these voyages, (pointing to the three large volumes of voyages to the south sea, which were just come out) who will read them through? a man had better work his way before the mast, than read them through; they will be eaten by rats and mice, before they are read through. there can be little entertainment in such books; one set of savages is like another.' boswell. 'i do not think the people of otaheite can be reckoned savages.' johnson. 'don't cant in defence of savages.' boswell. 'they have the art of navigation.' johnson. 'a dog or a cat can swim.' boswell. 'they carve very ingeniously.' johnson. 'a cat can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.' i perceived this was none of the mollia tempora fandi; so desisted. upon his mentioning that when he came to college he wrote his first exercise twice over; but never did so afterwards; miss adams. 'i suppose, sir, you could not make them better?' johnson. 'yes, madam, to be sure, i could make them better. thought is better than no thought.' miss adams. 'do you think, sir, you could make your ramblers better?' johnson. 'certainly i could.' boswell. 'i'll lay a bet, sir, you cannot.' johnson. 'but i will, sir, if i choose. i shall make the best of them you shall pick out, better.' boswell. 'but you may add to them. i will not allow of that.' johnson. 'nay, sir, there are three ways of making them better;--putting out,--adding,--or correcting.' during our visit at oxford, the following conversation passed between him and me on the subject of my trying my fortune at the english bar: having asked whether a very extensive acquaintance in london, which was very valuable, and of great advantage to a man at large, might not be prejudicial to a lawyer, by preventing him from giving sufficient attention to his business;--johnson. 'sir, you will attend to business, as business lays hold of you. when not actually employed, you may see your friends as much as you do now. you may dine at a club every day, and sup with one of the members every night; and you may be as much at publick places as one who has seen them all would wish to be. but you must take care to attend constantly in westminster-hall; both to mind your business, as it is almost all learnt there, (for nobody reads now;) and to shew that you want to have business. and you must not be too often seen at publick places, that competitors may not have it to say, "he is always at the playhouse or at ranelagh, and never to be found at his chambers." and, sir, there must be a kind of solemnity in the manner of a professional man. i have nothing particular to say to you on the subject. all this i should say to any one; i should have said it to lord thurlow twenty years ago.' on wednesday, june , dr. johnson and i returned to london; he was not well to-day, and said very little, employing himself chiefly in reading euripides. he expressed some displeasure at me, for not observing sufficiently the various objects upon the road. 'if i had your eyes, sir, (said he,) i should count the passengers.' it was wonderful how accurate his observation of visual objects was, notwithstanding his imperfect eyesight, owing to a habit of attention. that he was much satisfied with the respect paid to him at dr. adams's is thus attested by himself: 'i returned last night from oxford, after a fortnight's abode with dr. adams, who treated me as well as i could expect or wish; and he that contents a sick man, a man whom it is impossible to please, has surely done his part well.' after his return to london from this excursion, i saw him frequently, but have few memorandums: i shall therefore here insert some particulars which i collected at various times. it having been mentioned to dr. johnson that a gentleman who had a son whom he imagined to have an extreme degree of timidity, resolved to send him to a publick school, that he might acquire confidence;--'sir, (said johnson,) this is a preposterous expedient for removing his infirmity; such a disposition should be cultivated in the shade. placing him at a publick school is forcing an owl upon day.' speaking of a gentleman whose house was much frequented by low company; 'rags, sir, (said he,) will always make their appearance where they have a right to do it.' of the same gentleman's mode of living, he said, 'sir, the servants, instead of doing what they are bid, stand round the table in idle clusters, gaping upon the guests; and seem as unfit to attend a company, as to steer a man of war.' a dull country magistrate gave johnson a long tedious account of his exercising his criminal jurisdiction, the result of which was his having sentenced four convicts to transportation. johnson, in an agony of impatience to get rid of such a companion, exclaimed, 'i heartily wish, sir, that i were a fifth.' johnson was present when a tragedy was read, in which there occurred this line:-- 'who rules o'er freemen should himself be free.' the company having admired it much, 'i cannot agree with you (said johnson). it might as well be said,-- 'who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.' johnson having argued for some time with a pertinacious gentleman; his opponent, who had talked in a very puzzling manner, happened to say, 'i don't understand you, sir:' upon which johnson observed, 'sir, i have found you an argument; but i am not obliged to find you an understanding.' talking to me of horry walpole, (as horace late earl of orford was often called,) johnson allowed that he got together a great many curious little things, and told them in an elegant manner. mr. walpole thought johnson a more amiable character after reading his letters to mrs. thrale: but never was one of the true admirers of that great man. we may suppose a prejudice conceived, if he ever heard johnson's account to sir george staunton, that when he made the speeches in parliament for the gentleman's magazine, 'he always took care to put sir robert walpole in the wrong, and to say every thing he could against the electorate of hanover.' the celebrated heroick epistle, in which johnson is satyrically introduced, has been ascribed both to mr. walpole and mr. mason. one day at mr. courtenay's, when a gentleman expressed his opinion that there was more energy in that poem than could be expected from mr. walpole; mr. warton, the late laureat, observed, 'it may have been written by walpole, and buckram'd by mason.' sir joshua reynolds having said that he took the altitude of a man's taste by his stories and his wit, and of his understanding by the remarks which he repeated; being always sure that he must be a weak man who quotes common things with an emphasis as if they were oracles; johnson agreed with him; and sir joshua having also observed that the real character of a man was found out by his amusements,--johnson added, 'yes, sir; no man is a hypocrite in his pleasures.' i have mentioned johnson's general aversion to a pun. he once, however, endured one of mine. when we were talking of a numerous company in which he had distinguished himself highly, i said, 'sir, you were a cod surrounded by smelts. is not this enough for you? at a time too when you were not fishing for a compliment?' he laughed at this with a complacent approbation. old mr. sheridan observed, upon my mentioning it to him, 'he liked your compliment so well, he was willing to take it with pun sauce.' for my own part, i think no innocent species of wit or pleasantry should be suppressed; and that a good pun may be admitted among the smaller excellencies of lively conversation. mr. burke uniformly shewed johnson the greatest respect; and when mr. townshend, now lord sydney, at a period when he was conspicuous in opposition, threw out some reflection in parliament upon the grant of a pension to a man of such political principles as johnson; mr. burke, though then of the same party with mr. townshend, stood warmly forth in defence of his friend, to whom, he justly observed, the pension was granted solely on account of his eminent literary merit. i am well assured, that mr. townshend's attack upon johnson was the occasion of his 'hitching in a rhyme;' for, that in the original copy of goldsmith's character of mr. burke, in his retaliation, another person's name stood in the couplet where mr. townshend is now introduced:-- 'though fraught with all learning kept straining his throat, to persuade tommy townshend to lend him a vote.' it may be worth remarking, among the minutiae of my collection, that johnson was once drawn to serve in the militia, the trained bands of the city of london, and that mr. rackstrow, of the museum in fleet-street, was his colonel. it may be believed he did not serve in person; but the idea, with all its circumstances, is certainly laughable. he upon that occasion provided himself with a musket, and with a sword and belt, which i have seen hanging in his closet. an authour of most anxious and restless vanity being mentioned, 'sir, (said he,) there is not a young sapling upon parnassus more severely blown about by every wind of criticism than that poor fellow.' the difference, he observed, between a well-bred and an ill-bred man is this: 'one immediately attracts your liking, the other your aversion. you love the one till you find reason to hate him; you hate the other till you find reason to love him.' a foppish physician once reminded johnson of his having been in company with him on a former occasion; 'i do not remember it, sir.' the physician still insisted; adding that he that day wore so fine a coat that it must have attracted his notice. 'sir, (said johnson,) had you been dipt in pactolus i should not have noticed you.' he seemed to take a pleasure in speaking in his own style; for when he had carelessly missed it, he would repeat the thought translated into it. talking of the comedy of the rehearsal, he said, 'it has not wit enough to keep it sweet.' this was easy; he therefore caught himself, and pronounced a more round sentence; 'it has not vitality enough to preserve it from putrefaction.' though he had no taste for painting, he admired much the manner in which sir joshua reynolds treated of his art, in his discourses to the royal academy. he observed one day of a passage in them, 'i think i might as well have said this myself:' and once when mr. langton was sitting by him, he read one of them very eagerly, and expressed himself thus:--'very well, master reynolds; very well, indeed. but it will not be understood.' when i observed to him that painting was so far inferiour to poetry, that the story or even emblem which it communicates must be previously known, and mentioned as a natural and laughable instance of this, that a little miss on seeing a picture of justice with the scales, had exclaimed to me, 'see, there's a woman selling sweetmeats;' he said, 'painting, sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform.' no man was more ready to make an apology when he had censured unjustly, than johnson. when a proof-sheet of one of his works was brought to him, he found fault with the mode in which a part of it was arranged, refused to read it, and in a passion desired that the compositor might be sent to him. the compositor was mr. manning, a decent sensible man, who had composed about one half of his dictionary, when in mr. strahan's printing-house; and a great part of his lives of the poets, when in that of mr. nichols; and who (in his seventy-seventh year), when in mr. baldwin's printing-house, composed a part of the first edition of this work concerning him. by producing the manuscript, he at once satisfied dr. johnson that he was not to blame. upon which johnson candidly and earnestly said to him, 'mr. compositor, i ask your pardon. mr. compositor, i ask your pardon, again and again.' his generous humanity to the miserable was almost beyond example. the following instance is well attested:--coming home late one night, he found a poor woman lying in the street, so much exhausted that she could not walk; he took her upon his back, and carried her to his house, where he discovered that she was one of those wretched females who had fallen into the lowest state of vice, poverty, and disease. instead of harshly upbraiding her, he had her taken care of with all tenderness for a long time, at considerable expence, till she was restored to health, and endeavoured to put her into a virtuous way of living. he once in his life was known to have uttered what is called a bull: sir joshua reynolds, when they were riding together in devonshire, complained that he had a very bad horse, for that even when going down hill he moved slowly step by step. 'ay (said johnson,) and when he goes up hill, he stands still.' he had a great aversion to gesticulating in company. he called once to a gentleman who offended him in that point, 'don't attitudenise.' and when another gentleman thought he was giving additional force to what he uttered, by expressive movements of his hands, johnson fairly seized them, and held them down. mr. steevens, who passed many a social hour with him during their long acquaintance, which commenced when they both lived in the temple, has preserved a good number of particulars concerning him, most of which are to be found in the department of apothegms, &c. in the collection of johnson's works. but he has been pleased to favour me with the following, which are original:-- 'dr. johnson once assumed a character in which perhaps even mr. boswell never saw him. his curiosity having been excited by the praises bestowed on the celebrated torre's fireworks at marybone-gardens, he desired mr. steevens to accompany him thither. the evening had proved showery; and soon after the few people present were assembled, publick notice was given, that the conductors to the wheels, suns, stars, &c., were so thoroughly water-soaked, that it was impossible any part of the exhibition should be made. "this is a mere excuse, (says the doctor,) to save their crackers for a more profitable company. let us but hold up our sticks, and threaten to break those coloured lamps that surround the orchestra, and we shall soon have our wishes gratified. the core of the fireworks cannot be injured; let the different pieces be touched in their respective centers, and they will do their offices as well as ever." some young men who overheard him, immediately began the violence he had recommended, and an attempt was speedily made to fire some of the wheels which appeared to have received the smallest damage; but to little purpose were they lighted, for most of them completely failed. the authour of the rambler, however, may be considered, on this occasion, as the ringleader of a successful riot, though not as a skilful pyrotechnist.' 'it has been supposed that dr. johnson, so far as fashion was concerned, was careless of his appearance in publick. but this is not altogether true, as the following slight instance may show:--goldsmith's last comedy was to be represented during some court-mourning: and mr. steevens appointed to call on dr. johnson, and carry him to the tavern where he was to dine with others of the poet's friends. the doctor was ready dressed, but in coloured cloaths; yet being told that he would find every one else in black, received the intelligence with a profusion of thanks, hastened to change his attire, all the while repeating his gratitude for the information that had saved him from an appearance so improper in the front row of a front box. "i would not (added he,) for ten pounds, have seemed so retrograde to any general observance." 'he would sometimes found his dislikes on very slender circumstances. happening one day to mention mr. flexman, a dissenting minister, with some compliment to his exact memory in chronological matters; the doctor replied, "let me hear no more of him, sir. that is the fellow who made the index to my ramblers, and set down the name of milton thus: milton, mr. john."' in the course of this work a numerous variety of names has been mentioned, to which many might be added. i cannot omit lord and lady lucan, at whose house he often enjoyed all that an elegant table and the best company can contribute to happiness; he found hospitality united with extraordinary accomplishments, and embellished with charms of which no man could be insensible. on tuesday, june , i dined with him at the literary club, the last time of his being in that respectable society. the other members present were the bishop of st. asaph, lord eliot, lord palmerston, dr. fordyce, and mr. malone. he looked ill; but had such a manly fortitude, that he did not trouble the company with melancholy complaints. they all shewed evident marks of kind concern about him, with which he was much pleased, and he exerted himself to be as entertaining as his indisposition allowed him. the anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a life, as long as human means might be supposed to have influence, made them plan for him a retreat from the severity of a british winter, to the mild climate of italy. this scheme was at last brought to a serious resolution at general paoli's, where i had often talked of it. one essential matter, however, i understood was necessary to be previously settled, which was obtaining such an addition to his income, as would be sufficient to enable him to defray the expence in a manner becoming the first literary character of a great nation, and independent of all his other merits, the authour of the dictionary of the english language. the person to whom i above all others thought i should apply to negociate this business, was the lord chancellor, because i knew that he highly valued johnson, and that johnson highly valued his lordship; so that it was no degradation of my illustrious friend to solicit for him the favour of such a man. i have mentioned what johnson said of him to me when he was at the bar; and after his lordship was advanced to the seals, he said of him, 'i would prepare myself for no man in england but lord thurlow. when i am to meet with him i should wish to know a day before.' how he would have prepared himself i cannot conjecture. would he have selected certain topicks, and considered them in every view so as to be in readiness to argue them at all points? and what may we suppose those topicks to have been? i once started the curious inquiry to the great man who was the subject of this compliment: he smiled, but did not pursue it. i first consulted with sir joshua reynolds, who perfectly coincided in opinion with me; and i therefore, though personally very little known to his lordship, wrote to him, stating the case, and requesting his good offices for dr. johnson. i mentioned that i was obliged to set out for scotland early in the following week, so that if his lordship should have any commands for me as to this pious negociation, he would be pleased to send them before that time; otherwise sir joshua reynolds would give all attention to it. this application was made not only without any suggestion on the part of johnson himself, but was utterly unknown to him, nor had he the smallest suspicion of it. any insinuations, therefore, which since his death have been thrown out, as if he had stooped to ask what was superfluous, are without any foundation. but, had he asked it, it would not have been superfluous; for though the money he had saved proved to be more than his friends imagined, or than i believe he himself, in his carelessness concerning worldly matters, knew it to be, had he travelled upon the continent, an augmentation of his income would by no means have been unnecessary. on thursday, june , i dined with him at mr. dilly's, where were the rev. mr. (now dr.) knox, master of tunbridge-school, mr. smith, vicar of southill, dr. beattie, mr. pinkerton, authour of various literary performances, and the rev. dr. mayo. at my desire old mr. sheridan was invited, as i was earnest to have johnson and him brought together again by chance, that a reconciliation might be effected. mr. sheridan happened to come early, and having learned that dr. johnson was to be there, went away; so i found, with sincere regret, that my friendly intentions were hopeless. i recollect nothing that passed this day, except johnson's quickness, who, when dr. beattie observed, as something remarkable which had happened to him, that he had chanced to see both no. , and no. , of the hackney-coaches, the first and the last; 'why, sir, (said johnson,) there is an equal chance for one's seeing those two numbers as any other two.' on friday, june , i dined with him at general paoli's, where, he says in one of his letters to mrs. thrale, 'i love to dine.' there was a variety of dishes much to his taste, of all which he seemed to me to eat so much, that i was afraid he might be hurt by it; and i whispered to the general my fear, and begged he might not press him. 'alas! (said the general,) see how very ill he looks; he can live but a very short time. would you refuse any slight gratifications to a man under sentence of death? there is a humane custom in italy, by which persons in that melancholy situation are indulged with having whatever they like best to eat and drink, even with expensive delicacies.' on sunday, june , i found him rather better. i mentioned to him a young man who was going to jamaica with his wife and children, in expectation of being provided for by two of her brothers settled in that island, one a clergyman, and the other a physician. johnson. 'it is a wild scheme, sir, unless he has a positive and deliberate invitation. there was a poor girl, who used to come about me, who had a cousin in barbadoes, that, in a letter to her, expressed a wish she should come out to that island, and expatiated on the comforts and happiness of her situation. the poor girl went out: her cousin was much surprised, and asked her how she could think of coming. "because, (said she,) you invited me." "not i," answered the cousin. the letter was then produced. "i see it is true, (said she,) that i did invite you: but i did not think you would come." they lodged her in an out-house, where she passed her time miserably; and as soon as she had an opportunity she returned to england. always tell this, when you hear of people going abroad to relations, upon a notion of being well received. in the case which you mention, it is probable the clergyman spends all he gets, and the physician does not know how much he is to get.' we this day dined at sir joshua reynolds's, with general paoli, lord eliot, (formerly mr. eliot, of port eliot,) dr. beattie, and some other company. talking of lord chesterfield;--johnson. 'his manner was exquisitely elegant, and he had more knowledge than i expected.' boswell. 'did you find, sir, his conversation to be of a superiour style?' johnson. 'sir, in the conversation which i had with him i had the best right to superiority, for it was upon philology and literature.' lord eliot, who had travelled at the same time with mr. stanhope, lord chesterfield's natural son, justly observed, that it was strange that a man who shewed he had so much affection for his son as lord chesterfield did, by writing so many long and anxious letters to him, almost all of them when he was secretary of state, which certainly was a proof of great goodness of disposition, should endeavour to make his son a rascal. his lordship told us, that foote had intended to bring on the stage a father who had thus tutored his son, and to shew the son an honest man to every one else, but practising his father's maxims upon him, and cheating him. johnson. 'i am much pleased with this design; but i think there was no occasion to make the son honest at all. no; he should be a consummate rogue: the contrast between honesty and knavery would be the stronger. it should be contrived so that the father should be the only sufferer by the son's villainy, and thus there would be poetical justice.' a young gentleman present took up the argument against him, and maintained that no man ever thinks of the nose of the mind, not adverting that though that figurative sense seems strange to us, as very unusual, it is truly not more forced than hamlet's 'in my mind's eye, horatio.' he persisted much too long, and appeared to johnson as putting himself forward as his antagonist with too much presumption; upon which he called to him in a loud tone, 'what is it you are contending for, if you be contending?' and afterwards imagining that the gentleman retorted upon him with a kind of smart drollery, he said, 'mr. ***** it does not become you to talk so to me. besides, ridicule is not your talent; you have there neither intuition nor sagacity.' the gentleman protested that he had intended no improper freedom, but had the greatest respect for dr. johnson. after a short pause, during which we were somewhat uneasy,--johnson. 'give me your hand, sir. you were too tedious, and i was too short.' mr. *****. 'sir, i am honoured by your attention in any way.' johnson. 'come, sir, let's have no more of it. we offended one another by our contention; let us not offend the company by our compliments.' he now said, 'he wished much to go to italy, and that he dreaded passing the winter in england.' i said nothing; but enjoyed a secret satisfaction in thinking that i had taken the most effectual measures to make such a scheme practicable. on monday, june , i had the honour to receive from the lord chancellor the following letter:-- 'to james boswell, esq. 'sir,--i should have answered your letter immediately, if (being much engaged when i received it) i had not put it in my pocket, and forgot to open it till this morning. 'i am much obliged to you for the suggestion; and i will adopt and press it as far as i can. the best argument, i am sure, and i hope it is not likely to fail, is dr. johnson's merit. but it will be necessary, if i should be so unfortunate as to miss seeing you, to converse with sir joshua on the sum it will be proper to ask,--in short, upon the means of setting him out. it would be a reflection on us all, if such a man should perish for want of the means to take care of his health. yours, &c. 'thurlow.' this letter gave me a very high satisfaction; i next day went and shewed it to sir joshua reynolds, who was exceedingly pleased with it. he thought that i should now communicate the negociation to dr. johnson, who might afterwards complain if the attention with which he had been honoured, should be too long concealed from him. i intended to set out for scotland next morning; but sir joshua cordially insisted that i should stay another day, that johnson and i might dine with him, that we three might talk of his italian tour, and, as sir joshua expressed himself, 'have it all out.' i hastened to johnson, and was told by him that he was rather better to-day. boswell. 'i am very anxious about you, sir, and particularly that you should go to italy for the winter, which i believe is your own wish.' johnson. 'it is, sir.' boswell. 'you have no objection, i presume, but the money it would require.' johnson. 'why, no, sir.' upon which i gave him a particular account of what had been done, and read to him the lord chancellor's letter. he listened with much attention; then warmly said, 'this is taking prodigious pains about a man.' 'o! sir, (said i, with most sincere affection,) your friends would do every thing for you.' he paused, grew more and more agitated, till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent emotion, 'god bless you all.' i was so affected that i also shed tears. after a short silence, he renewed and extended his grateful benediction, 'god bless you all, for jesus christ's sake.' we both remained for some time unable to speak. he rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted in tenderness. he staid but a short time, till he had recovered his firmness; soon after he returned i left him, having first engaged him to dine at sir joshua reynolds's, next day. i never was again under that roof which i had so long reverenced. on wednesday, june , the friendly confidential dinner with sir joshua reynolds took place, no other company being present. had i known that this was the last time that i should enjoy in this world, the conversation of a friend whom i so much respected, and from whom i derived so much instruction and entertainment, i should have been deeply affected. when i now look back to it, i am vexed that a single word should have been forgotten. both sir joshua and i were so sanguine in our expectations, that we expatiated with confidence on the liberal provision which we were sure would be made for him, conjecturing whether munificence would be displayed in one large donation, or in an ample increase of his pension. he himself catched so much of our enthusiasm, as to allow himself to suppose it not impossible that our hopes might in one way or other be realised. he said that he would rather have his pension doubled than a grant of a thousand pounds; 'for, (said he,) though probably i may not live to receive as much as a thousand pounds, a man would have the consciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life in splendour, how long soever it might be.' considering what a moderate proportion an income of six hundred pounds a year bears to innumerable fortunes in this country, it is worthy of remark, that a man so truly great should think it splendour. as an instance of extraordinary liberality of friendship, he told us, that dr. brocklesby had upon this occasion offered him a hundred a year for his life. a grateful tear started into his eye, as he spoke this in a faultering tone. sir joshua and i endeavoured to flatter his imagination with agreeable prospects of happiness in italy. 'nay, (said he,) i must not expect much of that; when a man goes to italy merely to feel how he breathes the air, he can enjoy very little.' our conversation turned upon living in the country, which johnson, whose melancholy mind required the dissipation of quick successive variety, had habituated himself to consider as a kind of mental imprisonment. 'yet, sir, (said i,) there are many people who are content to live in the country.' johnson. 'sir, it is in the intellectual world as in the physical world; we are told by natural philosophers that a body is at rest in the place that is fit for it; they who are content to live in the country, are fit for the country.' talking of various enjoyments, i argued that a refinement of taste was a disadvantage, as they who have attained to it must be seldomer pleased than those who have no nice discrimination, and are therefore satisfied with every thing that comes in their way. johnson. 'nay, sir; that is a paltry notion. endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect.' i accompanied him in sir joshua reynolds's coach, to the entry of bolt-court. he asked me whether i would not go with him to his house; i declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. we bade adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage. when he had got down upon the foot-pavement, he called out, 'fare you well;' and without looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness, if i may use that expression, which seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long separation. i remained one day more in town, to have the chance of talking over my negociation with the lord chancellor; but the multiplicity of his lordship's important engagements did not allow of it; so i left the management of the business in the hands of sir joshua reynolds. soon after this time dr. johnson had the mortification of being informed by mrs. thrale, that, 'what she supposed he never believed,' was true; namely, that she was actually going to marry signor piozzi, an italian musick-master. he endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain. if she would publish the whole of the correspondence that passed between dr. johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full view of his real sentiments. as it is, our judgement must be biassed by that characteristick specimen which sir john hawkins has given us: 'poor thrale! i thought that either her virtue or her vice would have restrained her from such a marriage. she is now become a subject for her enemies to exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget, or pity.' it must be admitted that johnson derived a considerable portion of happiness from the comforts and elegancies which he enjoyed in mr. thrale's family; but mrs. thrale assures us he was indebted for these to her husband alone, who certainly respected him sincerely. having left the pious negociation, as i called it, in the best hands, i shall here insert what relates to it. johnson wrote to sir joshua reynolds on july , as follows:-- 'i am going, i hope, in a few days, to try the air of derbyshire, but hope to see you before i go. let me, however, mention to you what i have much at heart. if the chancellor should continue his attention to mr. boswell's request, and confer with you on the means of relieving my languid state, i am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking money upon false pretences. i desire you to represent to his lordship, what, as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive to be reasonable,--that, if i grow much worse, i shall be afraid to leave my physicians, to suffer the inconveniences of travel, and pine in the solitude of a foreign country; that, if i grow much better, of which indeed there is now little appearance, i shall not wish to leave my friends and my domestick comforts; for i do not travel, for pleasure or curiosity; yet if i should recover, curiosity would revive. in my present state, i am desirous to make a struggle for a little longer life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer climate. do for me what you can.' by a letter from sir joshua reynolds i was informed, that the lord chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him that the application had not been successful; but that his lordship, after speaking highly in praise of johnson, as a man who was an honour to his country, desired sir joshua to let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension, he should draw on his lordship to the amount of five or six hundred pounds; and that his lordship explained the meaning of the mortgage to be, that he wished the business to be conducted in such a manner, that dr. johnson should appear to be under the least possible obligation. sir joshua mentioned, that he had by the same post communicated all this to dr. johnson. how johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear from what he wrote to sir joshua reynolds:-- 'ashbourne, sept. . many words i hope are not necessary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart by the chancellor's liberality, and your kind offices. . . . 'i have enclosed a letter to the chancellor, which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or any other general seal, and convey it to him: had i sent it directly to him, i should have seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention.' 'to the lord high chancellor. 'my lord,--after a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the generosity of your lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than gratitude. bounty, so liberally bestowed, i should gladly receive, if my condition made it necessary; for, to such a mind, who would not be proud to own his obligations? but it has pleased god to restore me to so great a measure of health, that if i should now appropriate so much of a fortune destined to do good, i could not escape from myself the charge of advancing a false claim. my journey to the continent, though i once thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and i was very desirous that your lordship should be told of it by sir joshua reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if i grew much better, i should not be willing, if much worse, not able, to migrate. your lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but, when i was told that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, i did not expect to hear of a refusal; yet, as i have had no long time to brood hope, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been scarce a disappointment; and, from your lordship's kindness, i have received a benefit, which only men like you are able to bestow. i shall now live mihi carior, with a higher opinion of my own merit. i am, my lord, your lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble servant, 'september, .' 'sam. johnson.' upon this unexpected failure i abstain from presuming to make any remarks, or to offer any conjectures. let us now contemplate johnson thirty years after the death of his wife, still retaining for her all the tenderness of affection. 'to the reverend mr. bagshaw, at bromley. 'sir,--perhaps you may remember, that in the year , you committed to the ground my dear wife. i now entreat your permission to lay a stone upon her; and have sent the inscription, that, if you find it proper, you may signify your allowance. 'you will do me a great favour by showing the place where she lies, that the stone may protect her remains. 'mr. ryland will wait on you for the inscription, and procure it to be engraved. you will easily believe that i shrink from this mournful office. when it is done, if i have strength remaining, i will visit bromley once again, and pay you part of the respect to which you have a right from, reverend sir, your most humble servant, 'july , .' 'sam. johnson.' next day he set out on a jaunt to staffordshire and derbyshire, flattering himself that he might be in some degree relieved. during his absence from london he kept up a correspondence with several of his friends, from which i shall select what appears to me proper for publication, without attending nicely to chronological order. to dr. brocklesby, he writes, ashbourne, sept. :-- 'do you know the duke and duchess of devonshire? and have you ever seen chatsworth? i was at chatsworth on monday: i had indeed seen it before, but never when its owners were at home; i was very kindly received, and honestly pressed to stay: but i told them that a sick man is not a fit inmate of a great house. but i hope to go again some time.' sept. . 'i think nothing grows worse, but all rather better, except sleep, and that of late has been at its old pranks. last evening, i felt what i had not known for a long time, an inclination to walk for amusement; i took a short walk, and came back again neither breathless nor fatigued. this has been a gloomy, frigid, ungenial summer, but of late it seems to mend; i hear the heat sometimes mentioned, but i do not feel it: "praeterea minimus gelido jam in corpore sanguis febre calet sola.--" i hope, however, with good help, to find means of supporting a winter at home, and to hear and tell at the club what is doing, and what ought to be doing in the world. i have no company here, and shall naturally come home hungry for conversation. to wish you, dear sir, more leisure, would not be kind; but what leisure you have, you must bestow upon me.' lichfield, sept. . 'on one day i had three letters about the air-balloon: yours was far the best, and has enabled me to impart to my friends in the country an idea of this species of amusement. in amusement, mere amusement, i am afraid it must end, for i do not find that its course can be directed so as that it should serve any purposes of communication; and it can give no new intelligence of the state of the air at different heights, till they have ascended above the height of mountains, which they seem never likely to do. i came hither on the th. how long i shall stay i have not determined. my dropsy is gone, and my asthma much remitted, but i have felt myself a little declining these two days, or at least to-day; but such vicissitudes must be expected. one day may be worse than another; but this last month is far better than the former; if the next should be as much better than this, i shall run about the town on my own legs.' october . 'you write to me with a zeal that animates, and a tenderness that melts me. i am not afraid either of a journey to london, or a residence in it. i came down with little fatigue, and am now not weaker. in the smoky atmosphere i was delivered from the dropsy, which i consider as the original and radical disease. the town is my element*; there are my friends, there are my books, to which i have not yet bid farewell, and there are my amusements. sir joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to publick life, and i hope still to keep my station, till god shall bid me go in peace.' * his love of london continually appears. in a letter from him to mrs. smart, wife of his friend the poet, which is published in a well-written life of him, prefixed to an edition of his poems, in , there is the following sentence:--'to one that has passed so many years in the pleasures and opulence of london, there are few places that can give much delight.' once, upon reading that line in the curious epitaph quoted in the spectator, 'born in new-england, did in london die;' he laughed and said, 'i do not wonder at this. it would have been strange, if born in london, he had died in new-england.'--boswell. to sir joshua reynolds:-- ashbourne, sept. . '. . . i still continue by god's mercy to mend. my breath is easier, my nights are quieter, and my legs are less in bulk, and stronger in use. i have, however, yet a great deal to overcome, before i can yet attain even an old man's health. write, do write to me now and then; we are now old acquaintance, and perhaps few people have lived so much and so long together, with less cause of complaint on either side. the retrospection of this is very pleasant, and i hope we shall never think on each other with less kindness.' sept. . 'i could not answer your letter before this day, because i went on the sixth to chatsworth, and did not come back till the post was gone. many words, i hope, are not necessary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart, by the chancellor's liberality and your kind offices. i did not indeed expect that what was asked by the chancellor would have been refused, but since it has, we will not tell that any thing has been asked. i have enclosed a letter to the chancellor which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or other general seal, and convey it to him; had i sent it directly to him, i should have seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention. i do not despair of supporting an english winter. at chatsworth, i met young mr. burke, who led me very commodiously into conversation with the duke and duchess. we had a very good morning. the dinner was publick.' sept. . 'i have three letters this day, all about the balloon, i could have been content with one. do not write about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to say.' it may be observed, that his writing in every way, whether for the publick, or privately to his friends, was by fits and starts; for we see frequently, that many letters are written on the same day. when he had once overcome his aversion to begin, he was, i suppose, desirous to go on, in order to relieve his mind from the uneasy reflection of delaying what he ought to do. we now behold johnson for the last time, in his native city, for which he ever retained a warm affection, and which, by a sudden apostrophe, under the word lich, he introduces with reverence, into his immortal work, the english dictionary:--salve, magna parens! while here, he felt a revival of all the tenderness of filial affection, an instance of which appeared in his ordering the grave-stone and inscription over elizabeth blaney* to be substantially and carefully renewed. * his mother.--ed. to mr. henry white, a young clergyman, with whom he now formed an intimacy, so as to talk to him with great freedom, he mentioned that he could not in general accuse himself of having been an undutiful son. 'once, indeed, (said he,) i was disobedient; i refused to attend my father to uttoxeter-market. pride was the source of that refusal, and the remembrance of it was painful. a few years ago, i desired to atone for this fault; i went to uttoxeter in very bad weather, and stood for a considerable time bareheaded in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall used to stand. in contrition i stood, and i hope the penance was expiatory.' 'i told him (says miss seward) in one of my latest visits to him, of a wonderful learned pig, which i had seen at nottingham; and which did all that we have observed exhibited by dogs and horses. the subject amused him. "then, (said he,) the pigs are a race unjustly calumniated. pig has, it seems, not been wanting to man, but man to pig. we do not allow time for his education, we kill him at a year old." mr. henry white, who was present, observed that if this instance had happened in or before pope's time, he would not have been justified in instancing the swine as the lowest degree of groveling instinct. dr. johnson seemed pleased with the observation, while the person who made it proceeded to remark, that great torture must have been employed, ere the indocility of the animal could have been subdued. "certainly, (said the doctor;) but, (turning to me,) how old is your pig?" i told him, three years old. "then, (said he,) the pig has no cause to complain; he would have been killed the first year if he had not been educated, and protracted existence is a good recompence for very considerable degrees of torture."' as johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as mrs. thrale was no longer devoted to him, it might have been supposed that he would naturally have chosen to remain in the comfortable house of his beloved wife's daughter, and end his life where he began it. but there was in him an animated and lofty spirit, and however complicated diseases might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and acknowledged the invictum animum catonis. such was his intellectual ardour even at this time, that he said to one friend, 'sir, i look upon every day to be lost, in which i do not make a new acquaintance;' and to another, when talking of his illness, 'i will be conquered; i will not capitulate.' and such was his love of london, so high a relish had he of its magnificent extent, and variety of intellectual entertainment, that he languished when absent from it, his mind having become quite luxurious from the long habit of enjoying the metropolis; and, therefore, although at lichfield, surrounded with friends, who loved and revered him, and for whom he had a very sincere affection, he still found that such conversation as london affords, could be found no where else. these feelings, joined, probably, to some flattering hopes of aid from the eminent physicians and surgeons in london, who kindly and generously attended him without accepting fees, made him resolve to return to the capital. from lichfield he came to birmingham, where he passed a few days with his worthy old schoolfellow, mr. hector, who thus writes to me:--'he was very solicitous with me to recollect some of our most early transactions, and transmit them to him, for i perceive nothing gave him greater pleasure than calling to mind those days of our innocence. i complied with his request, and he only received them a few days before his death. i have transcribed for your inspection, exactly the minutes i wrote to him.' this paper having been found in his repositories after his death, sir john hawkins has inserted it entire, and i have made occasional use of it and other communications from mr. hector, in the course of this work. i have both visited and corresponded with him since dr. johnson's death, and by my inquiries concerning a great variety of particulars have obtained additional information. i followed the same mode with the reverend dr. taylor, in whose presence i wrote down a good deal of what he could tell; and he, at my request, signed his name, to give it authenticity. it is very rare to find any person who is able to give a distinct account of the life even of one whom he has known intimately, without questions being put to them. my friend dr. kippis has told me, that on this account it is a practice with him to draw out a biographical catechism. johnson then proceeded to oxford, where he was again kindly received by dr. adams. he arrived in london on the th of november, and next day sent to dr. burney the following note, which i insert as the last token of his remembrance of that ingenious and amiable man, and as another of the many proofs of the tenderness and benignity of his heart:-- 'mr. johnson, who came home last night, sends his respects to dear dr. burney, and all the dear burneys, little and great.' having written to him, in bad spirits, a letter filled with dejection and fretfulness, and at the same time expressing anxious apprehensions concerning him, on account of a dream which had disturbed me; his answer was chiefly in terms of reproach, for a supposed charge of 'affecting discontent, and indulging the vanity of complaint.' it, however, proceeded,-- 'write to me often, and write like a man. i consider your fidelity and tenderness as a great part of the comforts which are yet left me, and sincerely wish we could be nearer to each other. . . . my dear friend, life is very short and very uncertain; let us spend it as well as we can. my worthy neighbour, allen, is dead. love me as well as you can. pay my respects to dear mrs. boswell. nothing ailed me at that time; let your superstition at last have an end.' feeling very soon, that the manner in which he had written might hurt me, he two days afterwards, july , wrote to me again, giving me an account of his sufferings; after which, he thus proceeds:-- 'before this letter, you will have had one which i hope you will not take amiss; for it contains only truth, and that truth kindly intended. . . . spartam quam nactus es orna; make the most and best of your lot, and compare yourself not with the few that are above you, but with the multitudes which are below you.' yet it was not a little painful to me to find, that . . . he still persevered in arraigning me as before, which was strange in him who had so much experience of what i suffered. i, however, wrote to him two as kind letters as i could; the last of which came too late to be read by him, for his illness encreased more rapidly upon him than i had apprehended; but i had the consolation of being informed that he spoke of me on his death-bed, with affection, and i look forward with humble hope of renewing our friendship in a better world. soon after johnson's return to the metropolis, both the asthma and dropsy became more violent and distressful. during his sleepless nights he amused himself by translating into latin verse, from the greek, many of the epigrams in the anthologia. these translations, with some other poems by him in latin, he gave to his friend mr. langton, who, having added a few notes, sold them to the booksellers for a small sum, to be given to some of johnson's relations, which was accordingly done; and they are printed in the collection of his works. a very erroneous notion has circulated as to johnson's deficiency in the knowledge of the greek language, partly owing to the modesty with which, from knowing how much there was to be learnt, he used to mention his own comparative acquisitions. when mr. cumberland talked to him of the greek fragments which are so well illustrated in the observer, and of the greek dramatists in general, he candidly acknowledged his insufficiency in that particular branch of greek literature. yet it may be said, that though not a great, he was a good greek scholar. dr. charles burney, the younger, who is universally acknowledged by the best judges to be one of the few men of this age who are very eminent for their skill in that noble language, has assured me, that johnson could give a greek word for almost every english one; and that although not sufficiently conversant in the niceties of the language, he upon some occasions discovered, even in these, a considerable degree of critical acumen. mr. dalzel, professor of greek at edinburgh, whose skill in it is unquestionable, mentioned to me, in very liberal terms, the impression which was made upon him by johnson, in a conversation which they had in london concerning that language. as johnson, therefore, was undoubtedly one of the first latin scholars in modern times, let us not deny to his fame some additional splendour from greek. the ludicrous imitators of johnson's style are innumerable. their general method is to accumulate hard words, without considering, that, although he was fond of introducing them occasionally, there is not a single sentence in all his writings where they are crowded together, as in the first verse of the following imaginary ode by him to mrs. thrale, which appeared in the newspapers:-- 'cervisial coctor's viduate dame, opin'st thou this gigantick frame, procumbing at thy shrine: shall, catenated by thy charms, a captive in thy ambient arms, perennially be thine?' this, and a thousand other such attempts, are totally unlike the original, which the writers imagined they were turning into ridicule. there is not similarity enough for burlesque, or even for caricature. 'to mr. green, apothecary, at lichfield. 'dear sir,--i have enclosed the epitaph for my father, mother, and brother, to be all engraved on the large size, and laid in the middle aisle in st. michael's church, which i request the clergyman and churchwardens to permit. 'the first care must be to find the exact place of interment, that the stone may protect the bodies. then let the stone be deep, massy, and hard; and do not let the difference of ten pounds, or more, defeat our purpose. 'i have enclosed ten pounds, and mrs. porter will pay you ten more, which i gave her for the same purpose. what more is wanted shall be sent; and i beg that all possible haste may be made, for i wish to have it done while i am yet alive. let me know, dear sir, that you receive this. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'dec. , .' 'sam. johnson.' death had always been to him an object of terrour; so that, though by no means happy, he still clung to life with an eagerness at which many have wondered. at any time when he was ill, he was very much pleased to be told that he looked better. an ingenious member of the eumelian club, informs me, that upon one occasion when he said to him that he saw health returning to his cheek, johnson seized him by the hand and exclaimed, 'sir, you are one of the kindest friends i ever had.' dr. heberden, dr. brocklesby, dr. warren, and dr. butter, physicians, generously attended him, without accepting any fees, as did mr. cruikshank, surgeon; and all that could be done from professional skill and ability, was tried, to prolong a life so truly valuable. he himself, indeed, having, on account of his very bad constitution, been perpetually applying himself to medical inquiries, united his own efforts with those of the gentlemen who attended him; and imagining that the dropsical collection of water which oppressed him might be drawn off by making incisions in his body, he, with his usual resolute defiance of pain, cut deep, when he thought that his surgeon had done it too tenderly.* * this bold experiment, sir john hawkins has related in such a manner as to suggest a charge against johnson of intentionally hastening his end; a charge so very inconsistent with his character in every respect, that it is injurious even to refute it, as sir john has thought it necessary to do. it is evident, that what johnson did in hopes of relief, indicated an extraordinary eagerness to retard his dissolution.--boswell. about eight or ten days before his death, when dr. brocklesby paid him his morning visit, he seemed very low and desponding, and said, 'i have been as a dying man all night.' he then emphatically broke out in the words of shakspeare:-- 'can'st thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; raze out the written troubles of the brain; and, with some sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, which weighs upon the heart?' to which dr. brocklesby readily answered, from the same great poet:-- '--therein the patient must minister to himself.' johnson expressed himself much satisfied with the application. on another day after this, when talking on the subject of prayer, dr. brocklesby repeated from juvenal,-- 'orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano,' and so on to the end of the tenth satire; but in running it quickly over, he happened, in the line, 'qui spatium vitae extremum inter munera ponat,' to pronounce supremum for extremum; at which johnson's critical ear instantly took offence, and discoursing vehemently on the unmetrical effect of such a lapse, he shewed himself as full as ever of the spirit of the grammarian. having no near relations, it had been for some time johnson's intention to make a liberal provision for his faithful servant, mr. francis barber, whom he looked upon as particularly under his protection, and whom he had all along treated truly as an humble friend. having asked dr. brocklesby what would be a proper annuity to a favourite servant, and being answered that it must depend on the circumstances of the master; and, that in the case of a nobleman, fifty pounds a year was considered as an adequate reward for many years' faithful service; 'then, (said johnson,) shall i be nobilissimus, for i mean to leave frank seventy pounds a year, and i desire you to tell him so.' it is strange, however, to think, that johnson was not free from that general weakness of being averse to execute a will, so that he delayed it from time to time; and had it not been for sir john hawkins's repeatedly urging it, i think it is probable that his kind resolution would not have been fulfilled. after making one, which, as sir john hawkins informs us, extended no further than the promised annuity, johnson's final disposition of his property was established by a will and codicil. the consideration of numerous papers of which he was possessed, seems to have struck johnson's mind, with a sudden anxiety, and as they were in great confusion, it is much to be lamented that he had not entrusted some faithful and discreet person with the care and selection of them; instead of which, he in a precipitate manner, burnt large masses of them, with little regard, as i apprehend, to discrimination. not that i suppose we have thus been deprived of any compositions which he had ever intended for the publick eye; but, from what escaped the flames, i judge that many curious circumstances relating both to himself and other literary characters have perished. two very valuable articles, i am sure, we have lost, which were two quarto volumes, containing a full, fair, and most particular account of his own life, from his earliest recollection. i owned to him, that having accidentally seen them, i had read a great deal in them; and apologizing for the liberty i had taken, asked him if i could help it. he placidly answered, 'why, sir, i do not think you could have helped it.' i said that i had, for once in my life, felt half an inclination to commit theft. it had come into my mind to carry off those two volumes, and never see him more. upon my inquiring how this would have affected him, 'sir, (said he,) i believe i should have gone mad.' during his last illness, johnson experienced the steady and kind attachment of his numerous friends. mr. hoole has drawn up a narrative of what passed in the visits which he paid him during that time, from the th of november to the th of december, the day of his death, inclusive, and has favoured me with a perusal of it, with permission to make extracts, which i have done. nobody was more attentive to him than mr. langton, to whom he tenderly said, te teneam moriens deficiente manu. and i think it highly to the honour of mr. windham, that his important occupations as an active statesman did not prevent him from paying assiduous respect to the dying sage whom he revered, mr. langton informs me, that, 'one day he found mr. burke and four or five more friends sitting with johnson. mr. burke said to him, "i am afraid, sir, such a number of us may be oppressive to you." "no, sir, (said johnson,) it is not so; and i must be in a wretched state, indeed, when your company would not be a delight to me." mr. burke, in a tremulous voice, expressive of being very tenderly affected, replied, "my dear sir, you have always been too good to me." immediately afterwards he went away. this was the last circumstance in the acquaintance of these two eminent men.' the following particulars of his conversation within a few days of his death, i give on the authority of mr. john nichols:-- 'he said, that the parliamentary debates were the only part of his writings which then gave him any compunction: but that at the time he wrote them, he had no conception he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently written from very slender materials, and often from none at all,--the mere coinage of his own imagination. he never wrote any part of his works with equal velocity. three columns of the magazine, in an hour, was no uncommon effort, which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity. 'of his friend cave, he always spoke with great affection. "yet (said he,) cave, (who never looked out of his window, but with a view to the gentleman's magazine,) was a penurious pay-master; he would contract for lines by the hundred, and expect the long hundred; but he was a good man, and always delighted to have his friends at his table." 'he said at another time, three or four days only before his death, speaking of the little fear he had of undergoing a chirurgical operation, "i would give one of these legs for a year more of life, i mean of comfortable life, not such as that which i now suffer;"--and lamented much his inability to read during his hours of restlessness; "i used formerly, (he added,) when sleepless in bed, to read like a turk." 'whilst confined by his last illness, it was his regular practice to have the church-service read to him, by some attentive and friendly divine. the rev. mr. hoole performed this kind office in my presence for the last time, when, by his own desire, no more than the litany was read; in which his responses were in the deep and sonorous voice which mr. boswell has occasionally noticed, and with the most profound devotion that can be imagined. his hearing not being quite perfect, he more than once interrupted mr. hoole, with "louder, my dear sir, louder, i entreat you, or you pray in vain!"--and, when the service was ended, he, with great earnestness, turned round to an excellent lady who was present, saying, "i thank you, madam, very heartily, for your kindness in joining me in this solemn exercise. live well, i conjure you; and you will not feel the compunction at the last, which i now feel." so truly humble were the thoughts which this great and good man entertained of his own approaches to religious perfection.' amidst the melancholy clouds which hung over the dying johnson, his characteristical manner shewed itself on different occasions. when dr. warren, in the usual style, hoped that he was better; his answer was, 'no, sir; you cannot conceive with what acceleration i advance towards death.' a man whom he had never seen before was employed one night to sit up with him. being asked next morning how he liked his attendant, his answer was, 'not at all, sir: the fellow's an ideot; he is as aukward as a turn-spit when first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse.' mr. windham having placed a pillow conveniently to support him, he thanked him for his kindness, and said, 'that will do,--all that a pillow can do.' he requested three things of sir joshua reynolds:--to forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him; to read the bible; and never to use his pencil on a sunday. sir joshua readily acquiesced. johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked dr. brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could recover. 'give me (said he,) a direct answer.' the doctor having first asked him if he could hear the whole truth, which way soever it might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion, he could not recover without a miracle. 'then, (said johnson,) i will take no more physick, not even my opiates; for i have prayed that i may render up my soul to god unclouded.' in this resolution he persevered, and, at the same time, used only the weakest kinds of sustenance. being pressed by mr. windham to take somewhat more generous nourishment, lest too low a diet should have the very effect which he dreaded, by debilitating his mind, he said, 'i will take any thing but inebriating sustenance.' the reverend mr. strahan, who was the son of his friend, and had been always one of his great favourites, had, during his last illness, the satisfaction of contributing to soothe and comfort him. that gentleman's house, at islington, of which he is vicar, afforded johnson, occasionally and easily, an agreeable change of place and fresh air; and he attended also upon him in town in the discharge of the sacred offices of his profession. mr. strahan has given me the agreeable assurance, that, after being in much agitation, johnson became quite composed, and continued so till his death. dr. brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me with the following account:-- 'for some time before his death, all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and propitiation of jesus christ.' johnson having thus in his mind the true christian scheme, at once rational and consolatory, uniting justice and mercy in the divinity, with the improvement of human nature, previous to his receiving the holy sacrament in his apartment, composed and fervently uttered this prayer:-- 'almighty and most merciful father, i am now as to human eyes, it seems, about to commemorate, for the last time, the death of thy son jesus christ, our saviour and redeemer. grant, o lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce and accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and the enlargement of my charity; and make the death of thy son jesus christ effectual to my redemption. have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude of my offences. bless my friends; have mercy upon all men. support me, by thy holy spirit, in the days of weakness, and at the hour of death; and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake of jesus christ. amen.' having, as has been already mentioned, made his will on the th and th of december, and settled all his worldly affairs, he languished till monday, the th of that month, when he expired, about seven o'clock in the evening, with so little apparent pain that his attendants hardly perceived when his dissolution took place. of his last moments, my brother, thomas david, has furnished me with the following particulars:-- 'the doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned, was seldom or never fretful or out of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, who gave me this account, "attend, francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is the object of greatest importance:" he also explained to him passages in the scripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious subjects. 'on monday, the th of december, the day on which he died, a miss morris, daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and said to francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the doctor, that she might earnestly request him to give her his blessing. francis went into his room, followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. the doctor turned himself in the bed, and said, "god bless you, my dear!" these were the last words he spoke. his difficulty of breathing increased till about seven o'clock in the evening, when mr. barber and mrs. desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noise he made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he was dead.' about two days after his death, the following very agreeable account was communicated to mr. malone, in a letter by the honourable john byng, to whom i am much obliged for granting me permission to introduce it in my work. 'dear sir,--since i saw you, i have had a long conversation with cawston, who sat up with dr. johnson, from nine o'clock, on sunday evening, till ten o'clock, on monday morning. and, from what i can gather from him, it should seem, that dr. johnson was perfectly composed, steady in hope, and resigned to death. at the interval of each hour, they assisted him to sit up in his bed, and move his legs, which were in much pain; when he regularly addressed himself to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes, his voice failed him, his senses never did, during that time. the only sustenance he received, was cyder and water. he said his mind was prepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed long. at six in the morning, he inquired the hour, and, on being informed, said that all went on regularly, and he felt he had but a few hours to live. 'at ten o'clock in the morning, he parted from cawston, saying, "you should not detain mr. windham's servant:--i thank you; bear my remembrance to your master." cawston says, that no man could appear more collected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the approaching minute. 'this account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhat different from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking that that great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened in faith, and joyful in hope.' a few days before his death, he had asked sir john hawkins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered, 'doubtless, in westminster-abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, very natural to a poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid with his fathers. accordingly, upon monday, december , his remains were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:-- 'samuel johnson, ll.d. obiit xiii die decembris, anno domini m.dcc.lxxxiv. aetatis suae lxxv.' his funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends, particularly such of the members of the literary club as were then in town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the reverend chapter of westminster. mr. burke, sir joseph banks, mr. windham, mr. langton, sir charles bunbury, and mr. colman, bore his pall. his school-fellow, dr. taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the burial service. i trust, i shall not be accused of affectation, when i declare, that i find myself unable to express all that i felt upon the loss of such a 'guide, philosopher, and friend.' i shall, therefore, not say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend, which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all studied compositions:--'he has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which nothing has a tendency to fill up. johnson is dead. let us go to the next best:--there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of johnson.' distributed proofreaders life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales in six volumes volume vi: addenda, index, dicta philosophi, &c. edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford m dccc lxxxvii contents titles of works quoted in the notes addenda (autograph letters, etc.) index dicta philosoph titles of many of the works quoted in the notes. in my notes i have often given but brief references to the authors whom i quote. the following list, which is not, however, so complete as i could wish, will, i hope, do much towards supplying the deficiency. most of the poets, and a few of the prose writers also, i have not found it needful to include, as my references apply equally well to all editions of their works. the date in each case shows, not the year of the original publication, but of the edition to which i have referred. addison, joseph, _works_, vols., london, . aikin, j. and a. l., _miscellaneous pieces in prose_, . albemarle, earl of, _memoirs of the marquis of rockingham,_ vols., london, . almon, john, _correspondence, etc. of john wilkes_, vols., london, . arrighi, a., _histoire de pascal paoli_, tom., paris, . bacon, francis, _philosophical works_, edited by ellis, spedding, and heath, vols., london, - ; _life and letters_, edited by spedding, ellis, and heath, vols., london, - . bain, alexander, _life of james mill_, london, . baker, david erskine, _biographia dramatica_. see reed, isaac. barbauld, anna letitia, _works_, vols., london, ; _lessons for children_, london, . barclay, robert, _an apology_, london, . baretti, joseph, _account of manners and customs of italy_, vols., london, ; _journey from london to genoa_, vols., london, ; _tolondron_, london, . barry, james, _works_, vols., london, . beattie, james, _life_. see forbes, sir william. bellamy, george anne, _an apology for the life of george anne bellamy_, vols., london, . berry, miss, _journal and correspondence_, vols., london, . best, henry digby, _personal and literary memorials_, london, . blackie, c., _etymological geography_, london, . blackstone, sir william, _commentaries_, vols., oxford, . blair, hugh, _a critical dissertation on the poems of ossian, the son of fingal_, london, . bolingbroke, lord viscount, _works, with life by dr. goldsmith_, vols., london, . _bookseller of the last century, being some account of the life of john newbery_. by charles welsh, london, . boswell, james, _british essays in favour of the brave corsicans_, london, ; _correspondence with the honourable andrew erskine and journal of a tour to corsica_, edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l., london, ; _the cub at newmarket_, ; _an elegy on the death of an amiable young lady_, with _an epistle from menalcas to lycidas_, ; _the hypochondriack_, published in the _london magazine_, from to ; _journal of a tour to corsica_: see above under _correspondence with the hon. andrew erskine; journal of a tour to the hebrides_, first and second editions, ; third, ; fourth, ; _a letter to the people of scotland on the present state of the nation_, edinburgh, ; _a letter to the people of scotland on the alarming attempt to infringe the articles of the union and introduce a most pernicious innovation by diminishing the number of the lords of session_, london, ; _letters of james boswell addressed to the rev. w.j. temple_, london, ; _ode to tragedy_, ( ). _boswelliana, the common-place book of james boswell_, edited by rev. c. rogers, ll.d., london, grampian club, . _boulter's monument_, dublin, . bowen, emanuel, _a complete system of geography_, vols., london, . brewster, sir david, _memoirs of the life, writings, and discoveries of sir isaac newton_, vols., edinburgh, . bright, john, m.p., _speeches_, edited by james e. thorold rogers, vols., london, . british museum mss., letters by johnson to nichols, add. ms. . broome, herbert, _constitutional law_, london, . browne, sir thomas, _works_, vols., london, . brydone, patrick, _tour through sicily and malta_, vols., london, . burke, edmund, _correspondence of the right hon. edmund burke_, vols., london, . see payne, e.j., and prior, sir james. burnet, gilbert, bishop of salisbury, _history of his own time_, vols., london, ; _vindication of the authority, &c. of the church and state of scotland_, glasgow, . burnet, james (lord monboddo), _origin of languages_, vols., edinburgh, - . burnet, thomas, _sacred theory of the earth_, vols., london, . burney, dr. charles, _present state of music in france and italy_, london, ; _present state of music in germany_, vols., london, ; _memoirs_: see d'arblay, madame. burney, frances, _evelina_, vols., london, . see d'arblay, madame. burns, life of. by james currie, in _works of burns_, vol., . burton, john hill, _life and correspondence of david hume_, vols., edinburgh, ; _reign of queen anne_, vols, edinburgh, . butler, samuel, _hudibras_, vols., london, . calderwood, mrs., of polton, _letters and journals_, edinburgh, . _cambridge shakespeare_. see shakespeare. camden, william, _remains_, london, . campbell, john, lord, _lives of the chancellors_, vols., london, ; _lives of the chief justices_, vols., london, - . campbell, dr. john, _hermippus redivivus; or, the sage's triumph over old age and the grave_, london, . campbell, thomas, _specimens of the british poets_, london, . campbell, rev. dr. thomas, _diary of a visit to england in_ _by an irishman_, sydney, ; _a philosophical survey of the south of ireland_, . carlyle, rev. alexander, d.d., _autobiography_, edinburgh, . carlyle, thomas, _french revolution_, vols., london, ; _oliver cromwell's letters and speeches_, vols., london, ; _miscellanies_, london, . carstares, rev. william, _state papers_, edinburgh, . carte, thomas, _history of the life of james, duke of ormonde_, vols., london, - . carter, elizabeth, _memoirs of her life_, by montagu pennington, vols., london, . _carter and talbot correspondence_, vols., london, . cavendish, h., _debates of the house of commons_, vols., london, - . chalmers, alexander, _general biographical dictionary_, vols., london, - ; _british essayists_, vols., london, . chalmers, george, _life of ruddiman_, london, . chambers, ephraim, _cyclopaedia_, vols., london, . chambers, dr. robert, _history of the rebellion in scotland in_ , , edinburgh, ; _traditions of edinburgh_, vols., edinburgh, . chapone, mrs. hester, _letters on the improvement of the mind, with the life of the author_, london, ; _posthumous works_, vols., london, . chappe d'auteroche, _voyage en sibérie_, tom., paris, . charlemont, earl of, _memoirs_. see hardy, francis. chatham, earl of, _correspondence_, vols., london, . chesterfield, earl of, _letters to his son_, vols., london, ; _miscellaneous works_, vols., london, . cheyne, dr. george, _english malady, or a treatise of nervous diseases of all kinds_, london, . churchill, charles, _poems_, vols., london, . clarendon, edward, earl of, _history of the rebellion and civil wars in england_, vols., oxford, . cockburn, henry thomas (lord), _life of lord jeffrey_, vols., edinburgh, . collins, arthur, _the peerage of england_, vols., london, . colman, george, _comedies of terence_, vols., london, ; _prose on several occasions_, vols., london, . colman, george, junior, _random records_, vols., london, . _contemplation_, london, . conway, moncure, _thomas carlyle_, london, . cooke, william, _memoirs of charles macklin_, london, . courtenay, john, _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late s. johnson_, london, . cowper, william, _life_. see under southey. coxe, rev. william, _memoirs of sir robert walpole_, vols., london, . crabbe, rev. george, _life and poems_, vols., london, . cradock, joseph, _literary memoirs_, vols., london, . croker, right hon. john wilson, _boswell's life of johnson_, vol. vo., london, ; _correspondence and diaries_, edited by louis j. jennings, vols., london, . cumberland, richard, _memoirs_, vols., london, . dalrymple, sir david (lord hailes), _remarks on the history of scotland_, edinburgh, . dalrymple, sir john, _memoirs of great britain and ireland_, edinburgh and london, - . d'arblay, madame, _diary and letters_, vols., london, ; _memoirs of dr. burney_, vols., london, . davies, thomas, _dramatic miscellanies_, vols., london, ; _memoirs of the life of david garrick_, vols., london, ; _miscellaneous and fugitive pieces_, vols., london, - . dean, rev. richard, _essay on the future life of brutes_, manchester, . delany, dr., _observations on swift_, london, . de quincey, thomas, _works_, vols., edinburgh, . dicey, professor albert venn, _lectures introductory to the study of the law of the constitution_, london, . diderot, denys, _oeuvres_, paris, . d'israeli, isaac, _calamities of authors_, vols., london, ; _curiosities of literature_, vols., london, . doble, c.e., _thomas hearne's remarks and collections_, vol. i., oxford, . dodd, rev. dr. william, _the convict's address to his unhappy brethren_, . dodsley, robert, _a muse in livery; or, the footman's miscellany_, london, ; _collection of poems by several hands_, vols., london, . drummond, william, of hawthorne-denne, _flowers of sion_, edinburgh, ; _polemo-middinia_, oxford, . dryden, john, _comedies, tragedies, and operas_, vols., london, . dumont, etienne, _recollections of mirabeau_, london, . duppa, r., _diary of a journey into north wales in the year , by samuel johnson_, london, . (see _ante_, vol. v. p. .) _edinburgh review_, edinburgh, . eldon, lord chancellor, _life_. see twiss, horace. elwall, e., _the grand question in religion considered_, london. erasmus, _adagiorum chiliades_, ; _colloquia familiaria_, vols., leipsic, . _farm and its inhabitants, with some account of the lloyds of dolobran_, by rachel j. lowe, privately printed, . field, rev. william, _memoirs of the rev. samuel parr_, ll.d., vols., london, . fielding, henry, _works_, vols., london, . fitzgerald, percy, _the life of david garrick_, vols., london, . fitzmaurice, lord edmond, _life of william, earl of shelburne_, vols., london, . forbes, sir william, _life of james beattie_, london, . forster, john, _historical and biographical essays_, vols., london, ; _life and times of oliver goldsmith_, vols., london, . foss, edward, _lives of the judges of england_, vols., london, - . _foundling hospital for wit_, london, - . franklin, dr. benjamin, _memoirs_, vols., london, . frederick ii (the great), of prussia, _oeuvres_, tom., berlin, - . froude, james anthony, _thomas carlyle_, vols. i. and ii., london, ; vols. iii. and iv., . garden, f. (lord gardenston), _miscellanies_, edinburgh, . garrick, david, _private correspondence_, vols., london, ; _life_: see davies, thomas; fitzgerald, percy; and murphy, arthur. gibbon, edward, _decline and fall of the roman empire_, vols. london, ; _miscellaneous works_, vols., london, . goldsmith, oliver, _history of the earth and animated nature_, vols., london, ; _miscellaneous works_, vols., london, ; _works_, edited by cunningham, vols., london, . gray, thomas, _works, with memoirs of his life_, by the rev. william mason, vols., london, ; _works_, edited by the rev. john mitford, vols., london, ; _works_, edited by edmund gosse, london, . greville, charles c.f., _greville memoirs_, edited by henry reeve, vols., london, ; second part, vols., london, . grimm, baron, _correspondance littéraire_, . hall, robert, _works_, vols., london, . hamilton, right hon. william gerard, _parliamentary logick_, london, . hamilton, william, of bangour, _poems_, edinburgh, . hardy, francis, _memoirs of the earl of charlemont_, vols., london, . hargrave, francis, _an argument in the case of james sommersett_, london, . harwood, rev. thomas, _history of lichfield_, gloucester, . hawkesworth, john, _voyages of discovery in the southern hemisphere_, vols., london, . hawkins, sir john, _life of samuel johnson_, london, ; johnson's _works_: see johnson, samuel. hawkins, laetitia matilda, _memoirs, anecdotes, &c._, vols., london, . hayward, abraham, _mrs. piozzi's autobiography_, vols., london, . hazlitt, william, _conversations of james northcote, r.a._, london, . hearne, thomas, _remains_, edited by philip bliss, vols., london, ; _remarks and collections_, edited by c.e. doble, vol. i., oxford, . _herodotus_, edited by rev. j.w. blakesley, vols., london, . hervey, rev. james, _meditations_, london, . hill, george birkbeck, _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, london, ; _boswell's correspondence with the hon. andrew erskine, and journal of a tour to corsica_, london, . hogg, james, _jacobite relics_, vols., edinburgh, . holcroft, thomas, _memoirs_, vols., london, . home, henry. see kames, lord. horne, dr. george, bishop of norwich, _a letter to adam smith_, oxford, ; _essays and thoughts on various subjects_, london, . horne, rev. john. see tooke, horne. horrebow, niels, _natural history of iceland_, london, . _house of lords, scotch appeal cases_, vol. xvii. howell, james, _epistoloe_, london, . howell, t.b. and t.j., _state trials_, vols., london, - . hume, david, _essays_, vols., london, ; _history of england_, vols., london, ; _private correspondence_, london, ; _life_: see burton, john hill. husbands, j., _a miscellany of poems_, oxford, . hutton, william, _history of derby_, london, ; _life_, london, . james, robert, m.d., _dissertation on fevers_, london, . jeffrey, lord, _life_. see cockburn, h.j. johnson, samuel, _annals of johnson, being an account of the life of dr. samuel johnson from his birth to his eleventh year_, london, ; _diary of a journey into north wales_: see duppa, r; _dictionary_, first edition, london, ; fourth edition, london, ; _abridgment_, london, ; _letters_, published by hester lynch piozzi, vols., london, ; _life_, printed for g. kearsley, london, ; _memoirs of the life and writings of the late dr. samuel johnson_, printed for j. walker, london, ; _prayers and meditations composed by samuel johnson_, second edition, london, ; _rasselas_, edited by the rev. w. west, london, ; _works_, edited by sir john hawkins, vols. (the last two vols. by the rev. percival stockdale), london, - : vol. xi. contains a collection of johnson's _apophthegms; works_, vols.; _parliamentary debates_, vols. ( vols. in all), oxford, . _johnsoniana_, published by john murray, london, . johnstone, john. see parr, samuel. jones, sir william. see teignmouth, lord. jonson, ben, _works_, vols., london, . kames, lord (henry home), _sketches of the history of man_, vols., edinburgh, . king, dr. william, principal of st. mary hall,_ anecdotes of his own times_, london, . king, william, archbishop of dublin, _essay on the origin of evil_, edited by bishop law, . knight, charles, _english cyclopedia (biography)_, vols., london - . knox, rev. dr. vicesimus, _works_, vols., london, . lamb, charles, _works_, edited by sir thomas noon talfourd, london, . landor, walter savage, _works_, vols., london, . langton, bennet, _collection of anecdotes of dr. johnson_, _ante_, iv. - . law, bishop edmund. see king, archbishop. lecky, w.e.h., _history of england in the eighteenth century_, vols. london, - . leslie, charles robert, r.a., _autobiographical recollections_, london . leslie, charles robert, r.a., and tom taylor, _life and times of sir joshua reynolds_, vols., london, . _lexiphanes: a dialogue_, london, . littleton, dr. adam, _linguae latinae liber dietionarius_, london, and . locke, john, _works_, london, . lockhart, j. g., _memoirs of the life of sir walter scott_, bart., vols., edinburgh, . lofft, capel, _reports of cases_, london, . _london and its environs_, dodsley, vols., london, . lowe, charles, _prince bismarck; an historical biography_, vols., london, . lowndes, william thomas,_ bibliographer's manual_, vols., london, . macaulay, rev. kenneth, _history of st. kilda_, london, . macaulay, thomas babington, _critical and historical essays_, vols., london, , and vols., ; _history of england_, vols., london, ; _miscellaneous writings and speeches_, london, ; _life_: see trevelyan, george otto. mackenzie, sir george, _works_, edinburgh, - . mackenzie, henry, _life of john home_, edinburgh, . mackintosh, sir james, _memoirs of his life_, vols., london, . macklin, charles, _life_. see cooke, william. mcneill, p., _tranent and its surroundings_, nd ed., edinburgh and glasgow, . madan, rev. martin, _thoughts on executive justice_, london, . mahon, lord. see stanhope, earl. maine, sir henry sumner, _lectures on early history of institutions_, london, . maittaire, m., _senilia_, london, . mandeville, bernard, _fable of the bees_, . marshall, william, _minutes on agriculture_, london, . martin, m., _a description of the western islands_, london, ; _voyage to st. kilda_, london, . mason, william, _life of gray_. see gray, thomas. maxwell, rev. dr. william, _collectanea_, _ante_, ii. - . mickle, william julius, _the lusiad_, oxford, . mill, james, _history of british india_, london, ; _life_: see bain, alexander. mill, john stuart, _autobiography_, london, ; _principles of political economy_, vols., london, . _modern characters from shakespeare_, london, . monboddo, lord. see burnet, james. montagu, mrs. elizabeth, _essay on the writings of shakespeare_, london, ; _letters_, vols., london, . montague, lady mary wortley, _letters_, london, . moore, john, m.d., _journal during a residence in france_, vols., london, ; _life of smollett_, ; _view of society and manners in france, switzerland, and germany_, vols., london, . moore, thomas, _life of r.b. sheridan_, vols., london, . more, hannah, _life and correspondence_, vols., london, . morris, william, _aeneids of virgil done into english verse_, london, . morrison, alfred, _catalogue of the collection of autograph letters, &c._, formed by alfred morrison, edited by a. w. thibaudeau, printed for private circulation, london, . munk, william, _the roll of the royal college of physicians of london_, vols., london, . murphy, arthur, _essay on the life and genius of samuel johnson_, london, ; _life of david garrick_, dublin, . murray, john, _guide to scotland_, london, , ; _johnsoniana_, london, . napier, rev. alexander, _boswell's life of johnson_, vols., london, . _new foundling hospital for wit_, vols., london, . newman, john henry, _history of my religious opinions_, london, . newton, rev. john, _an authentic narrative of some remarkable and interesting particulars in the life of_, london, . newton, thomas, bishop of bristol, _works_, vols., london, . nichols, john, _literary anecdotes of the eighteenth century_, vols., london, - ; _literary history_, vols., london, - . _ninth report of the commissioners of the post-office_, london, . northcote, james, _life of sir joshua reynolds_, vols., london, . see hazlitt, william, for northcote's _conversations_. _nouvelle biographie générale_, vols., paris, - . o'leary, rev. arthur, _remarks on the rev. mr. wesley's letters_, dublin . orrery, ---- john, fifth earl of orrery and corke, _remarks on the life and writings of dr. swift_, london, . orton, job, _memoirs of doddridge_, salop, . _oxford during the last century_ [by g. roberson and j.r. green], oxford, . paley, rev. william, d.d., _principles of philosophy_, london, . _parliamentary history of england_, vols., london, . parr, samuel, ll.d., _works, with memoir_, by john johnstone, m.d. vols., london, . see field, rev. william. paterson, daniel, _british itinerary_, vols., london, . pattison, mark, _memoirs_, london, . see pope, alexander. payne, e.j., _select works of burke_, vols., oxford, . pennant, thomas, _literary life_, london, ; _tour in scotland_, london, . _penny cyclopaedia_, vols., london, . pepys, samuel, _diary and correspondence_, vols., london, . philipps, erasmus, _diary_, published in _notes and queries_, second series, x. . pilkington, james, _a view of the present state of derbyshire_, vols., derby, . pinkerton, john, _voyages_, vols., london, - . piozzi, hester lynch, _anecdotes of the late samuel johnson_, fourth edition, london, ; _autobiography: see_ under hayward, abraham; _british synonymy_, vols., london, ; _journey through france, italy, and germany_, vols., london, . _piozzi letters. see_ under johnson, samuel. pope, alexander, _works_, edited by rev. w. elwin and w.j. courthope, vols., london, - ; _satires and epistles_, edited by mark pattison, oxford, . porson, richard, _tracts and miscellaneous criticisms_, london, . priestley, joseph, _works_, vols., london, - . prior, sir james, _life of edmund burke_ (bohn's british classics), london, ; _life of oliver goldsmith_, vols., london, ; _life of edmond malone_, london, . _probationary odes for the laureateship_, london. psalmanazar, george, _historical and geographical description of formosa_, london, ; _memoirs_, london, . radcliffe, john, _some memoirs of his life_, london, . ranke, professor, _the popes of rome_. translated from the german by sarah austin, vols., london, . _recreations and studies of a country clergyman of the eighteenth century. see_ twining, rev. thomas. reed, isaac, _baker's biographia dramatica_, vols., london, . reynolds, sir joshua, _life_: see under leslie and northcote; _works_, vols., london, . richardson, samuel, _correspondence_, vols., london, ; _one hundred and seventy-three letters written for particular friends on the most important occasions_, seventh edition, london, no date. ritson, joseph, _english songs_, vols., london, . robinson, henry crabb, _diary, reminiscences, and correspondence_, vols., london, . rogers, samuel, _table talk_, london, . _rolliad, the_, london, . romilly, sir samuel, _memoirs of his life_, vols., london, . rose, hugh james, _new general biographical dictionary_, vols., london, - . ruskin, john, _lectures on architecture and painting_, london, ; _praeterita_, orpington, . sacheverell, w., _an account of the isle of man, with a voyage to i-columb-kill_, london, . savage, richard, _works_, vols., london, . scott, sir walter, _life of swift_, london, ; novels, vols., edinburgh, ; _life_: see under lockhart. selwyn, george, _life and correspondence_. by j.h. jesse, vols., london, . _session papers of old bailey trials for _, london. seward, anna, _elegy on captain cook_, london, ; _letters_, vols., edinburgh, . seward, william, _anecdotes of distinguished persons_, vols., london, ; _biographiana_, vols., london, . shakespeare, edited by w.g. clark and w. aldis wright, vols., cambridge, - . shelburne, earl of, _life_. see fitzmaurice, lord edmond. shenstone, william, _works_, vols., london, . smart, christopher, _poems on several occasions_, london, . smollett, tobias, _history of england_, vols., london, ; _travels through france and italy_, vols., london, . southey, robert, _life and correspondence_, vols., london, ; _life and works of william cowper_, vols., london, ; _life of john wesley_, vols., london, . spence, rev. joseph, _anecdotes_, london, . _spiritual quixote_, vols., london, . stanhope, earl, _history of england_, vols., london, - ; _history of the war of the succession in spain_, london, - ; _life of william pitt_, vols., london, . stanley, arthur penrhyn, _historical memorials of westminster abbey_, london, . steele, sir richard, _apology for himself and his writings_, london, . stephens, alexander, _memoirs of horne tooke_, vols., london, . sterne, lawrence, _sentimental journey_, vols., london, . stewart, dugald, _an account of the life and writings of thomas reid, william robertson, and adam smith_, edinburgh, ; also _life of reid_, edinburgh, ; _life of robertson_, edinburgh, . stockdale, rev. percival, _memoirs_, london, ; _the remonstrance_, london, . story, thomas, _journal of his life_, vols., newcastle-upon-tyne, . swift, jonathan, _works_, vols., london, ; _life_: see scott, sir walter. sydenham, thomas, _works_, london, . taylor, jeremy, _works_, vols., london, . taylor, tom, _life of sir joshua reynolds_. see under leslie, c.r. teignmouth, lord, _memoirs of the life of sir william jones_, london, . temple, sir william, _works_, vols., london, . thackeray, w.m., _english humourists_, london, . thicknesse, philip, _a year's journey through france and part of spain_, vols., bath and london, . tickell, richard, _epistle from the hon. charles fox to the hon. john townshend_, . tillotson, john, _sermons preached upon several occasions_, london, . timmins, samuel, _dr. johnson in birmingham: a paper read to the archaeological section of the birmingham and midland institute_, nov. , , and reprinted from transactions_ ( copies only), quarto, pp. viii. tooke, home, _diversions of purley_, london, ; _life_: see stephens, alexander; _a letter to john dunning, esq._, london, . _tour through the whole island of great britain_, originally begun by de foe, vols., london, . trevelyan, george otto, _life and letters of lord macaulay_, vols., london, . twining, rev. thomas, _recreations and studies of a country clergyman of the eighteenth century_, london, . twiss, horace, _life of lord chancellor eldon_, vols., london, . tyerman, rev. luke, _life of george whitefield_, vols., london, - . victor, benjamin, _original letters_, london, . voltaire, _oeuvres complètes_, tom., paris, - . walpole, horace, _journal of the reign of king george iii_, vols., london, ; _letters_, vols., london, ; _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, vols., london, ; _memoirs of the reign of king george iii_, vols., london, . walton, izaak, _lives_, london, . warburton, william, _divine legation of moses_, vols., london, . warner, rebecca, _original letters_, bath and london, . warner, rev. richard, _a tour through the northern counties of england_, bath, . warton, dr. joseph, _essay on pope_, london, vol. i. ; vol. ii. ; _life_: see under wooll. warton, rev. thomas, _poetical works_, vols., oxford, . watson, richard, bishop of llandaff, _a letter to the archbishop of canterbury_, london, . wesley, john, _journals_, vols., london, ; _life_: see under southey. _westminster abbey, with other poems_, . whyte, samuel, _miscellanea nova_, dublin, . wilkes, john, _correspondence_. see almon, john. williams, anna, _miscellanies_, london, . williams, sir charles hanbury, _odes_, london, . windham, william, right hon., _diary_, london, . wood, robert, _the ruins of palmyra_, london, ; _the ruins of balbec_, london, . wooll, john, d.d., _biographical memoirs of dr. joseph warton_, vol. (vol. ii. never published), london, . wordsworth, william, _works_, vols., london, . wraxall, sir nathaniel william, bart., _historical memoirs of my own time_, vols., london, ; also edited by h.b. wheatley, vols., london, . young, arthur, _six months' tour through the north of england_, vols., london, - . addenda last summer messrs. sotheby and wilkinson sold some very interesting autograph letters written by johnson to william strahan, the printer. i was fortunate enough to find that the purchasers, with but one exception, were mindful of what boswell so well describes as 'the general courtesy of literature[ ],' and were ready to place their treasures at my service. to one of them, mr. frederick barker, of , rowan road, brook green, i am still more indebted, for he entrusted me not only with the original letters which he had just bought, but also with some others that he had previously possessed. his johnsonian collection is one of unusual interest. i have moreover to acknowledge my obligations to mr. fawcett, of , king street, covent garden; to messrs. j. pearson and co., of , pall mall; to messrs. robson and kerslake, of coventry street, haymarket; to mr. frank t. sabin, of and , garrick street, covent garden; and to mr. john waller, of , artesian road, westbourne grove. those of the letters which are undated, i have endeavoured to assign to their proper places by internal evidence. the absence of a date is in itself very strong evidence that they belong to a comparatively early period (see _ante_, i. , n. ). [footnote : ante, iv. .] i. _a letter about a projected geographical dictionary by mr. bathurst, with bathurst's proposal; dated march , probably written in _.[in the possession of mr. frederick barker, of , rowan road, brook green.] 'sir, 'i have inclosed the scheme which i mentioned yesterday in which the work proposed is sufficiently explained. 'the undertaker, mr. bathurst, is a physician of the university of cambridge, of about eight years standing, and will perform the work in such a manner as may satisfy the publick. no advice of mine will be wanting, but advice will be all that i propose to contribute unless it should be thought worth while that i should write a preface, which if desired i will do and put my name to it. the terms which i am commissioned to offer are these: ' . a guinea and half shall be paid for each sheet of the copy. ' . the authour will receive a guinea and half a week from the date of the contract. ' . as it is certain that many books will be necessary, the authour will at the end of the work take the books furnished him in part of payment at prime cost, which will be a considerable reduction of the price of the copy; or if it seems as you thought yesterday no reduction, he will allow out of the last payment fifty pounds for the use of the books and return them. ' . in two months after his first demand of books shall be supplied, he purposes to write three sheets a week and to continue the same quantity to the end of the work, unless he shall be hindered by want of books. he does not however expect to be always able to write according to the order of the alphabet but as his books shall happen to supply him, and therefore cannot send any part to the press till the whole is nearly finished. ' . he undertakes as usual the correction. 'i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march nd. 'to mr. strahan.' 'proposal. 'there is nothing more apparently wanting to the english literature, than a geographical dictionary, which, though its use is almost every day necessary, not only to men of study, but of trade or publick employment, yet has been hitherto, not only unperformed, but almost unattempted among us. bohun's dictionary, the only one which has any pretension to regard, owes that pretension only to its bulk; for it is in all parts contemptibly defective and is therefore deservedly forgotten. in collier's dictionary, what geography there is, can scarcely be found among the crowd of other subjects, and when it is found, is of no great importance. the books of eachard and salmon, though useful for the ends proposed by them, are too small to be considered as anticipations of this work, which is intended to consist of two volumes of the same size and print with harris's dictionary, in which will be comprised the following particulars: 'the situation of every country with its provinces and dependencies according to its present state, and latest observation. 'the description of all remarkable cities, towns, castles, fortresses, and places observable for their situation, products or other particulars. 'an account of the considerable rivers, their springs, branches, course, outlets, how far navigable, the produce and qualities of their waters. 'the course of voyages, giving directions to sailors for navigating from one place of the world to another, with particular attention to the traffic of these kingdoms. 'an account of all the principal ports and harbours of the known world, in which will be laid down the pilotage, bearings, depth of water, danger from sands or rocks, firmness or uncertainty of anchorage, and degree of safety from particular winds. 'an exact account of the commodities of each country, both natural and artificial. 'a description of the remarkable animals in every country, whether beasts, birds or fishes. 'an account of the buildings, whether ancient or modern, and of ruins or other remains of antiquity. 'remarks upon the soil, air, and waters of particular places, their several qualities and effects, the accidents to which every region is exposed, as earthquakes and hurricanes, and the diseases peculiar to the inhabitants or incident to strangers at their arrival. 'the political state of the world, the government of countries, and the magistracy of cities, with their particular laws, or privileges. 'the most probable and authentic calculations of the number of inhabitants of each place. 'the military state of countries, their forces, manner of making war, weapons, and naval power. 'the commercial state, extent of their trade, number and strength of their colonies, quantity of shipping. 'the pretensions of princes with their alliances, relations and genealogies. 'the customs of nations with regard to trade, and receptions of strangers, their domestic customs, as rites of marriage and burial. their particular laws. their habits, recreations and amusements. 'the religious opinions of all nations. 'these and many other heads of observation will be collected, not merely from the dictionaries now extant in many languages, but from the best surveys, local histories, voyages, and particular accounts[ ], among which care will be taken to select those of the best authority, as the basis of the work, and to extract from them such observations as may best promote knowledge and gratify enquiry, so that it is to be hoped, there will be few remarkable places in the known world, of which the politician, the merchant, the sailor, or the man of curiosity may not find a useful and pleasing account, of the credit of which the reader may always judge, as the authors from whom it is taken will be regularly quoted, a caution which if some, who have attempted such general works, had observed, their labours would have deserved, and found more favour from the publick.' [footnote : that this is done will appear from the authours' names exactly quoted.] this letter must have been written about the year , for bathurst is described as a physician of about eight years' standing. he took his degree as bachelor of medicine at peterhouse, cambridge, in , and did not, it should seem, proceed to the higher degree. in he was at the havannah, where he died (_ante_, i. , n. i). he was johnson's beloved friend, of whom 'he hardly ever spoke without tears in his eyes' (_ante_, i. , n. ). the proposal, i have no doubt, was either written, or at all events revised, by johnson. it is quite in his style. it may be assumed that it is in bathurst's handwriting. ii. _an apologetical letter about some work that was passing through the press; undated, but probably written about the years - _.[in the possession of mr. frederick barker.] 'dear sir, 'what you tell me i am ashamed never to have thought on--i wish i had known it sooner--send me back the last sheet; and the last copy for correction. if you will promise me henceforward to print a sheet a day, i will promise you to endeavour that you shall have every day a sheet to print, beginning next tuesday. 'i am sir, your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'to mr. strahan.' in all likelihood johnson is writing about the dictionary. the absence of a date, as i have already said, is strong evidence that the letter was written comparatively early. as the first edition of the dictionary was in folio a sheet consisted of four pages. johnson writing on april , says, 'i began the second vol. of my dictionary, room being left in the first for preface, grammar, and history, none of them yet begun' (_ante_, i. ). as the book was published on april , (_ante_, i. , n. ), the printing must have gone on very rapidly, when a start was once made. by _copy_ he means his _manuscript for printing_. iii, iv. _two undated letters about printing the dictionary_.[in the possession of mr. john waller, , artesian road, westbourne grove.] 'dear sir, 'i must desire you to add to your other civilities this one, to go to mr. millar and represent to him the manner of going on, and inform him that i know not how to manage. i pay three and twenty shillings a week to my assistants, in each instance having much assistance from them, but they tell me they shall be able to pull better in method, as indeed i intend they shall. the point is to get two guineas. 'sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' (address on back.) 'to mr. strahan.' 'sir, 'i have often suspected that it is as you say, and have told mr. dodsley of it. it proceeds from the haste of the amanuensis to get to the end of his day's work. i have desired the passages to be clipped close, and then perhaps for two or three leaves it is done. but since poor stuart's time i could never get that part of the work into regularity, and perhaps never shall. i will try to take some more care but can promise nothing; when i am told there is a sheet or two i order it away. you will find it sometimes close; when i make up any myself, which never happens but when i have nobody with me, i generally clip it close, but one cannot always be on the watch. 'i am sir, your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' these letters refer to the printing of the _dictionary_, of which dodsley and millar were two among the proprietors, and strahan the printer. francis stuart or stewart was one of johnson's amanuenses (_ante_, i. ). in johnson paid his sister a guinea for an old pocket-book of her brother's (_ante_, iii. ), and wrote on april , (_ante_, iii. ):--'the memory of her brother is yet fresh in my mind; he was an ingenious and worthy man.' in february he gave her another guinea for a letter relating to himself that he had found in the pocket-book (_ante_, iv. ). a writer in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , who had been employed in strahan's printing-works, says that 'stewart was useful to johnson in the explanation of low cant phrases; all words relating to gambling and card-playing, such as _all-fours_, _catch-honours_ [not in johnson's dictionary], _cribbage_ [merely defined as _a game at cards_], were said to be stewart's corrected by the doctor.' he adds that after the printing had gone on some time 'the proprietors of the _dictionary_ paid johnson through mr. strahan at the rate of a guinea for every sheet of ms. copy delivered. the copy was written upon quarto post, and in two columns each page. johnson wrote in his own hand the words and their explanation, and generally two or three words in each column, leaving a space between each for the authorities, which were pasted on as they were collected by the different amanuenses employed: and in this mode the ms. was so regular that the sheets of ms. which made a sheet of print could be very exactly ascertained.' the same writer states that stewart in a night ramble in edinburgh with some of his drinking companions 'met with the mob conducting captain porteous to be hanged; they were next day examined about it before the town council, when, as stewart used to say, "we were found to be too drunk to have any hand in the business." he gave an accurate account of it in the edinburgh magazine of that time.' v. _a letter about miss williams, taxes due, and a journey; undated, but perhaps written at oxford in _.[in the possession of mr. frederick barker.] 'sir, 'i shall not be long here, but in the mean time if miss williams wants any money pray speak to mr. millar and supply her, they write to me about some taxes which i wish you would pay. 'my journey will come to very little beyond the satisfaction of knowing that there is nothing to be done, and that i leave few advantages here to those that shall come after me. 'i am sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'my compliments to mrs. strahan. to mr. strahan.' miss williams came to live with johnson after his wife's death in (_ante_, i. ). the fact that strahan is asked to supply her with money after speaking to mr. millar seems to show that this letter was written some time before the publication of the _dictionary_ in april . millar 'took the principal charge of conducting its publication,' and johnson 'had received all the copy-money, by different drafts, a considerable time before he had finished his task' (_ante_, i. ). his 'journey' may have been his visit to oxford in the summer of . he went there, because, 'i cannot,' he said, 'finish my book [the dictionary] to my mind without visiting the libraries' (_ante_, i. ). according to thomas warton 'he collected nothing in the libraries for his _dictionary_' (_ib_ n. ). it is perhaps to this failure that the latter part of the letter refers, johnson's visit, however, was one of five weeks, while the first line of the letter shews that he intended to be away from london but a short time. vi. _a letter about 'rasselas,' dated_ jan. , .[in the possession of mr. frederick barker.] 'when i was with you last night i told you of a story which i was preparing for the press. the title will be "the choice of life or the history of ... prince of abissinia." 'it will make about two volumes like little pompadour, that is about one middling volume. the bargain which i made with mr. johnson was seventy five pounds (or guineas) a volume, and twenty five pounds for the second edition. i will sell this either at that price or for sixty[ ], the first edition of which he shall himself fix the number, and the property then to revert to me, or for forty pounds, and i have the profit that is retain half the copy. i shall have occasion for thirty pounds on monday night when i shall deliver the book which i must entreat you upon such delivery to procure me. i would have it offered to mr. johnson, but have no doubt of selling it, on some of the terms mentioned. [footnote : 'fifty-five pounds' written first and then scored over.] 'i will not print my name, but expect it to be known. i am dear sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. jan. , . get me the money if you can.' this letter is of unusual interest, as it proves beyond all doubt that _rasselas_ was written some weeks before _candide_ was published (see _ante_, i. , n. a). baretti, as i have shewn (i. , n. ), says that 'any other person with the degree of reputation johnson then possessed would have got £ for the work, but he never understood the art of making the most of his productions.' we see, however, by this letter that johnson did ask for a larger sum than the booksellers allowed him. he received but one hundred pounds for the first edition, but he had made a bargain for one hundred and fifty pounds or guineas. johnson, the bookseller, seems to have been but in a small way of business as a publisher. i do not find in the _gentleman's magazine_ for any advertisement of books published by him, and only one in (p. ). cowper's publisher in was joseph johnson of st. paul's churchyard. (cowper's _works_ by southey, i. ; see also nichols' _literary anecdotes_, iii. - .) by 'little pompadour' johnson, no doubt, means the second and cheaper edition of _the history of the marchioness de pompadour_. the first edition was published by hooper in one volume, price five shillings (_gent. mag_. for october , p. ). and the second in two volumes for three shillings and sixpence (_gent. mag_. for november, , p. ). johnson did not generally 'print his name.' he published anonymously his translation of _lobos voyage to abyssinia; london; the life of savage; the rambler_, and _the idler_, both in separate numbers and when collected in volumes; _rasselas; the false alarm; falkland's islands; the patriot;_, and _taxation no tyranny_; (when these four pamphlets were collected in a volume he published them with the title of _political tracts, by the authour of the rambler_). he gave his name in _the vanity of human wishes, irene_, the _dictionary_, his edition of _shakespeare_, the _journey to the western islands_, and the _lives of the poets_. vii. _a letter about george strahan's election to a scholarship at university college, oxford, and about william strahan's 'affair with the university'; dated october , _.[in the possession of mr. frederick barker.] 'sir, 'i think i have pretty well disposed of my young friend george, who, if you approve of it, will be entered next monday a commoner of university college, and will be chosen next day a scholar of the house. the scholarship is a trifle, but it gives him a right, upon a vacancy, to a fellowship of more than sixty pounds a year if he resides, and i suppose of more than forty if he takes a curacy or small living. the college is almost filled with my friends, and he will be well treated. the master is informed of the particular state of his education, and thinks, what i think too, that for greek he must get some private assistance, which a servitour of the college is very well qualified and will be very willing to afford him on very easy terms. 'i must desire your opinion of this scheme by the next post, for the opportunity will be lost if we do not now seize it, the scholarships being necessarily filled up on tuesday. 'i depend on your proposed allowance of a hundred a year, which must the first year be a little enlarged because there are some extraordinary expenses, as caution (which is allowed in his last quarter). . thirds. (he that enters upon a room pays two thirds of the furniture that he finds, and receives from his successor two thirds of what he pays; so that if he pays £ he receives £ s. d., this perhaps may be) fees at entrance, matriculation &c., perhaps his gown (i think) ________ £ 'if you send us a bill for about thirty pounds we shall set out commodiously enough. you should fit him out with cloaths and linen, and let him start fair, and it is the opinion of those whom i consult, that with your hundred a year and the petty scholarship he may live with great ease to himself, and credit to you. 'let me hear as soon as is possible. 'in your affair with the university, i shall not be consulted, but i hear nothing urged against your proposal. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'oct. , . 'my compliments to mrs. strahan. 'to mr. strahan, printer, in new street, shoe-lane, london.' my friend, mr. c. j. faulkner, fellow and tutor of university college, has given me the following extracts from the college records:-- 'oct. - , . candidatis examinatis electi sunt gulielmus jones et georgius strahan in vacuas exhibitiones dmi simonis benet baronetti.' gulielmus jones is the famous oriental scholar, sir william jones, whose portrait adorns the hall of his ancient college (_ante_, ii. , n. ). on april , , is found the election of 'georgium strahan, sophistam in perpetuum hujus collegii socium.' he vacated his fellowship in . the value of a bennet scholarship in was ten pounds a year, with rooms added, the rent of which was reckoned as equal to two pounds more. a fellowship on the same foundation was worth about twenty pounds, with a yearly dividend added to it that amounted to about thirty pounds. 'fines' (_ante_, iii. ) and other extra payments might easily raise the value to more than sixty pounds. the 'caution' is the sum deposited by an undergraduate with the college bursar or steward as a security for the payment of his 'battells' or account. johnson in had to pay at pembroke college the same sum (seven pounds) that george strahan in had to pay at university college. _ante_, i. , n. . johnson wrote four letters to george strahan, when he was a boy at school, and one letter when he was at college. (see croker's _johnson_, pp. , , , .) in this last letter, dated may , , he writes: 'do not tire yourself so much with greek one day as to be afraid of looking on it the next; but give it a certain portion of time, suppose four hours, and pass the rest of the day in latin or english. i would have you learn french, and take in a literary journal once a month, which will accustom you to various subjects, and inform you what learning is going forward in the world. do not omit to mingle some lighter books with those of more importance; that which is read _remisso animo_ is often of great use, and takes great hold of the remembrance. however, take what course you will, if you be diligent you will be a scholar.' george strahan attended johnson on his death-bed, and published the volume called _prayers and meditations composed by samuel johnson_. _ante_, i. , n. i; iv. , n. . william strahan's 'affair with the university' was very likely connected with the lease of the university printing house. from the 'orders of the delegates of the press,' , i have been permitted to copy the following entry, which bears a date but six days later than that of johnson's letter. 'tuesday, oct. , . at a meeting of the delegates of the press. 'ordered, 'that the following articles be made the foundation of the new lease to be granted of the moiety of the printing house; that a copy of them be delivered to mr. baskett and mr. eyre, and that they be desired to give in their respective proposals at a meeting to be held on tuesday the sixth of november.' (p. .) the chief part of the lease consisted of the privilege to print bibles and prayer books. i conjecture that strahan had hoped to get a share in the lease. viii. _a letter about a cancel in johnson's 'journey to the western islands of scotland', dated nov. _, .[in the possession of messrs. pearson and co., , pall mall.] 'sir, 'i waited on you this morning having forgotten your new engagement; for this you must not reproach me, for if i had looked upon your present station with malignity i could not have forgotten it. i came to consult you upon a little matter that gives me some uneasiness. in one of the pages there is a severe censure of the clergy of an english cathedral which i am afraid is just, but i have since recollected that from me it may be thought improper, for the dean did me a kindness about forty years ago. he is now very old, and i am not young. reproach can do him no good, and in myself i know not whether it is zeal or wantonness. can a leaf be cancelled without too much trouble? tell me what i shall do. i have no settled choice, but i would not wish to allow the charge. to cancel it seems the surer side. determine for me. 'i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , . 'tell me your mind: if you will cancel it i will write something to fill up the vacuum. please to direct to the borough.' mr. strahan's 'new engagement' was in the house of commons at westminster, to which he had been elected for the first time as member for malmesbury. the new parliament had met on nov. , the day before the date of johnson's letter (_parl. hist_, xviii. ). the leaf that johnson cancelled contained pages , in the first edition of his _journey to the western islands_. it corresponds with pages - in vol. ix. of johnson's _works_ (ed. ), beginning with the words 'could not enter,' and ending 'imperfect constitution.' the excision is marked by a ridge of paper, which was left that the revised leaf might be attached to it. johnson describes how the lead which covered the cathedrals of elgin and aberdeen had been stripped off by the order of the scottish council, and shipped to be sold in holland. he continues:--'let us not however make too much haste to despise our neighbours. our own cathedrals are mouldering by unregarded dilapidation. it seems to be part of the despicable philosophy of the time to despise monuments of sacred magnificence, and we are in danger of doing that deliberately, which the scots did not do but in the unsettled state of an imperfect constitution.' in the copy of the first edition in the bodleian library, which had belonged to gough the antiquary, there is written in his hand, as a foot-note to 'neighbours': 'there is now, as i have heard, a body of men not less decent or virtuous than the scottish council, longing to melt the lead of an english cathedral. what they shall melt, it were just that they should swallow.' it can scarcely be doubted that this is the suppressed passage. the english cathedral to which johnson refers was, i believe, lichfield. 'the roof,' says harwood (history of lichfield, p. ), 'was formerly covered with lead, but now with slate.' addenbroke, who had been dean since , was, we may assume, very old at the time when johnson wrote. i had at first thought it not unlikely that it was dr. thomas newton, dean of st. paul's and bishop of bristol, who was censured. he was a lichfield man, and was known to johnson (see _ante_, iv. , n. ). he was, however, only seventy years old. i am informed moreover by the rev. w. sparrow simpson, the learned editor of _documents illustrating the history of st. paul's_, that it is very improbable that at this time the dean and chapter of st. paul's entertained such a thought. my friend mr. c. e. doble has kindly furnished me with the following curious parallel to johnson's suppressed wish about the molten lead. 'the chappell of our lady [at wells], late repayred by stillington, a place of great reverence and antiquitie, was likewise defaced, and such was their thirst after lead (i would they had drunke it scalding) that they tooke the dead bodies of bishops out of their leaden coffins, and cast abroad the carkases skarce throughly putrified.'--harington's _nuga antiquae_, ii. (ed. ). in the postscript johnson says 'please to direct to the borough.' he was staying in mr. thrale's town-house in the borough of southwark. (see _ante_, i, .) ix. _a letter about apprenticing a lad to mr. strahan, and about a presentation to the blue coat school, dated december _, . [in the possession of messrs. robson and kerslake, , coventry street haymarket.] 'sir, 'when we meet we talk, and i know not whether i always recollect what i thought i had to say. 'you will please to remember that i once asked you to receive an apprentice, who is a scholar, and has always lived in a clergyman's house, but who is mishapen, though i think not so as to hinder him at the case. it will be expected that i should answer his friend who has hitherto maintained him, whether i can help him to a place. he can give no money, but will be kept in cloaths. 'i have another request which it is perhaps not immediately in your power to gratify. i have a presentation to beg for the blue coat hospital. the boy is a non-freeman, and has both his parents living. we have a presentation for a freeman which we can give in exchange. if in your extensive acquaintance you can procure such an exchange, it will be an act of great kindness. do not let the matter slip out of your mind, for though i try others i know not any body of so much power to do it. 'i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'dec. , .' the apprentice was young william davenport, the orphan son of a clergyman. his friend was the rev. w. langley, the master of ashbourne school. strahan received him as an apprentice (_ante_, ii. , n. i). see also nichols' _literary anecdotes_, vol. iii. p. . the 'case' is the frame containing boxes for holding type. x. _a letter about suppressions in 'taxation no tyranny! dated march , _.[in the possession of mr. frank t. sabin, & , garrick street covent garden.] 'sir, 'i am sorry to see that all the alterations proposed are evidences of timidity. you may be sure that i do [? not] wish to publish, what those for whom i write do not like to have published. but print me half a dozen copies in the original state, and lay them up for me. it concludes well enough as it is. 'when you print it, if you print it, please to frank one to me here, and frank another to mrs. aston at stow hill, lichfield. 'the changes are not for the better, except where facts were mistaken. the last paragraph was indeed rather contemptuous, there was once more of it which i put out myself. 'i am sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' this letter refers to _taxation no tyranny_, which was published before march , , the date of boswell's arrival in london (_ante_, ii. ). boswell says that he had in his possession 'a few proof leaves of it marked with corrections in johnson's own hand-writing' (ib. p. ). johnson, he says,' owned to me that it had been revised and curtailed by some of those who were then in power.' when johnson writes 'when you print it, if you print it,' he uses, doubtless, _print_ in the sense of _striking off copies_. the pamphlet was, we may assume, in type before it was revised by 'those in power.' the corrections had been made in the proof-sheets. johnson asks to have six copies laid by for him in the state in which he had wished to publish it. it seems that the last paragraph had been struck out by the reviser, for johnson says 'it was rather contemptuous.' he does not think it needful to supply anything in its place, for he says 'it concludes well enough as it is.' mr. strahan had the right, as a member of parliament, to frank all letters and packets. that is to say, by merely writing his signature on the cover he could pass them through the post free of charge. johnson, when he wrote to scotland, used to employ him to frank his letters, 'that he might have the consequence of appearing a parliament-man among his countrymen' (_ante_, iii. ). it was to oxford that a copy of the pamphlet was to be franked to johnson. that he was there at the time is shown by a letter from him in mrs. piozzi's _collection_ (vol. i. p. ), dated 'university college, oxford, march , .' writing to her, evidently from bolt court, on february , he had said: 'my pamphlet has not gone on at all' (ib. i. ). mrs. aston (or rather miss aston) is mentioned _ante_, ii. . xi _a letter about 'copy' and a book by professor watson, dated oct. , '_.[in the possession of mr. h. fawcett, of , king street, covent garden.] 'sir, 'i wrote to you about ten days ago, and sent you some copy. you have not written again, that is a sorry trick. 'i am told that you are printing a book for mr. professor watson of saint andrews, if upon any occasion, i can give any help, or be of any use, as formerly in dr. robertson's publication, i hope you will make no scruple to call upon me, for i shall be glad of an opportunity to show that my reception at saint andrews has not been forgotten. 'i am sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'oct. , .' the' copy' or ms. that johnson sent is, i conjecture, _proposals for the rev. mr. shaw's analysis of the scotch celtick language_ (_ante_, iii. ). this is the only acknowledged piece of writing of his during . the book printing for professor watson was _history of the reign of philip ii_, which was published by strahan and cadell in . this letter is of unusual interest, as showing that johnson had been of some service as regards one of robertson's books. it is possible that he read some of the proof-sheets, and helped to get rid of the scotticisms. 'strahan,' according to beattie, 'had corrected (as he told me himself) the phraseology of both mr. hume and dr. robertson' (_ante_, v. , n. ). he is not unlikely, in robertson's case, to have sought and obtained johnson's help. xii. _the following letter is published in mr. alfred morrison's 'collection of autographs', vol. ii. p. ._ 'to dr. taylor. dated london, april , .' 'the quantity of blood taken from you appears to me not sufficient. thrale was almost lost by the scrupulosity of his physicians, who never bled him copiously till they bled him in despair; he then bled till he fainted, and the stricture or obstruction immediately gave way and from that instant he grew better. 'i can now give you no advice but to keep yourself totally quiet and amused with some gentle exercise of the mind. if a suspected letter comes, throw it aside till your health is reestablished; keep easy and cheerful company about you, and never try to think but at those stated and solemn times when the thoughts are summoned to the cares of futurity, the only cares of a rational being. 'as to my own health i think it rather grows better; the convulsions which left me last year at ashbourne have never returned, and i have by the mercy of god very comfortable nights. let me know very often how you are till you are quite well.' this letter, though it is dated , must have been written in . thrale's first attack was in june, , when he was in 'extreme danger' (_ante_, iii. , n. , ). johnson had the remission of the convulsions on june , . he recorded on june , :-- 'in the morning of this day last year i perceived the remission of those convulsions in my breast which had distressed me for more than twenty years. i returned thanks at church for the mercy granted me, which has now continued a year.'--_prayers and meditations_, p. . three days later he wrote to mrs. thrale:-- 'it was a twelvemonth last sunday since the convulsions in my breast left me. i hope i was thankful when i recollected it; by removing that disorder a great improvement was made in the enjoyment of life.' --_piozzi letters_, ii. . (see _ante_, iii. , n. .) he was at ashbourne on june , (_ante_, iii. ). on april , , the very day of which this letter bears the date, he recorded:-- 'after a good night, as i am forced to reckon, i rose seasonably.... in reviewing my time from easter, , i found a very melancholy and shameful blank. so little has been done that days and months are without any trace. my health has, indeed, been very much interrupted. my nights have been commonly not only restless, but painful and fatiguing. ....some relaxation of my breast has been procured, i think, by opium, which, though it never gives me sleep, frees my breast from spasms.' --_prayers and meditations_, p. . see _ante_, iii. , n. . for johnson's advice about bleeding, see _ante_, iii. ; and for possible occasions for 'suspected letters,' _ante_, i. , n. ; and ii. , n. . _mr. mason's 'sneering observation in his "memoirs of mr. william whitehead"'_ (vol. i, p. .) i had long failed to find a copy of these _memoirs_, though i had searched in the bodleian, the british museum, and the london library, and had applied to the university library at cambridge, and the advocates' library at edinburgh. by the kindness of mr. r. h. soden smith and mr. r. f. sketchley, i have obtained the following extract from a copy in the dyce and forster libraries, in the south kensington museum:-- 'conscious, notwithstanding, that to avoid writing what is _unnecessary_ is, in these days, no just plea for silence in a biographer, i have some apology to make for having strewed these pages so thinly with the tittle-tattle of anecdote. i am, however, too proud to make this apology to any person but my bookseller, who will be the only real loser by the 'those readers, who believe that i do not write immediately under his pay, and who may have gathered from what they have already read, that i am not so passionately enamoured of dr. johnson's biographical manner, as to take that for my model, have only to throw these pages aside, and wait till they are new-written by some one of his numerous disciples, who may follow his master's example; and should more anecdote than i furnish him with be wanting (as was the doctor's case in his life of mr. gray), may make amends for it by those acid eructations of vituperative criticism, which are generated by unconcocted taste and intellectual indigestion.'--_poems by william whitehead_, york, (vol. iii, p. ). with this 'sneering observation,' which boswell might surely have passed over in silence, the memoirs close. _michael johnson as a bookseller._ (vol. i, p. , n. .) mr. r. f. sketchley kindly informs me that in the dyce and forster libraries at the south kensington museum there is a book with the following title:-- _s. shaw's 'grammatica anglo--romana', london, printed for michael johnson, bookseller: and are to be sold at his shops in litchfield and uttoxiter in stafford-shire; and ashby-de-la-zouch, leicestershire, ._ mr. c. e. doble tells me that in the proposals issued in by thomas bennet, st. paul's churchyard, for printing anthony a wood's _athenae oxonienses_ and _fasti oxonienses_, among 'the booksellers who take subscriptions, give receipts, and deliver books according to the proposals' is 'mr. johnson in litchfield.' _the city and county of lichfield_. (vol. i, p. , n. .) 'the city of litchfield is a county of itself, with a jurisdiction extending or miles round, which circuit the sheriff rides every year on sept. .'--_a tour through the whole island of great britain_, ed. , ii. . balliol college has a copy of this work containing david garrick's book-plate, with shakespeare's head at the top of it, and the following quotation from _menagiana_ at the foot:-- '_la première chose qu'on doit faire quand on a emprunté un livre, c'est de le lire, afin de pouvoir le rendre plutôt' (sic)_. _felixmarte of hircania_. (vol. i, p. .) '"he that follows is _florismarte of hyrcania_" said the barber. "what! is signor florismarte there?" replied the priest; "in good faith he shall share the same fate, notwithstanding his strange birth and chimerical adventures; for his harsh and dry style will admit of no excuse. to the yard with him, therefore." "with all my heart, dear sir," answered the housekeeper; "and with joyful alacrity she executed the command.'" --_don quixote_, ed. , i. . boswell speaks of _felixmarte_ as the old spanish romance. in the _bibliografia dei romanzi e poeini cavallereschi italiani_ ( nd ed., milan, ), p. , it is stated that in the spanish edition it is called a translation from the italian, and in the italian edition a translation from the spanish. the italian title is _historia di don florismante d'ircania, tradotta dallo spagnuolo_. cervantes, in an edition of _don quixote_, published in , which i have looked at, calls the book _florismarte de hircania_ (not _florismante_). it should seem that he made his hero read the italian version. _palmerin of england and don belianis_. (vol. i, p. , n. ; and vol. iii, p. .) '"let _palmerin of england_ be preserved," said the licentiate, "and kept as a jewel; and let such another casket be made for it as that which alexander found among the spoils of darius appropriated to preserve the works of the poet homer....therefore, master nicholas, saving your better judgment let this and _amadis de gaul_ be exempted from the flames, and let all the rest perish without any farther inquiry." "not so neighbour," replied the barber, "for behold here the renowned _don belianis_." the priest replied, "this with the second, third, and fourth parts, wants a little rhubarb to purge away its excessive choler; there should be removed too all that relates to the castle of fame, and other impertinencies of still greater consequence; let them have the benefit, therefore, of transportation, and as they show signs of amendment they shall hereafter be treated with mercy or justice; in the meantime, friend, give them room in your house; but let nobody read them."' --_don quixote_, ed. , i. . _mr. taylor, a birmingham manufacturer_. (vol. i, p. .) 'john taylor, esq. may justly be deemed the shakspear or newton of birmingham. he rose from minute beginnings to shine in the commercial hemisphere, as they in the poetical or philosophical. to this uncommon genius we owe the gilt button, the japanned and gilt snuff-box, with the numerous race of enamels; also the painted snuff-box. ... he died in at the age of , after acquiring a fortune of £ , . his son was a considerable sufferer at the time of the riots in .' --_a brief history of birmingham_, , p. . _olivia lloyd._ (vol. i, p. .) i am, no doubt, right in identifying olivia lloyd, the young quaker, with whom johnson was much enamoured when at stourbridge school, with olive lloyd, the daughter of the first sampson lloyd, of birmingham, and aunt of the sampson lloyd with whom he had an altercation (_ante_, ii. and _post_, p. liii). 'a fine likeness of her is preserved by thomas lloyd, the priory, warwick,' as i learn from an interesting little work called _farm and its inhabitants, with some account of the lloyds of dolobran_, by rachel j. lowe. privately printed, , p. . her elder brother married a miss careless; ib. p. . johnson's 'first love,' hector's sister, married a mr. careless (_ante_, ii. ). _henry porter, of edgbaston_. (vol. i, p. , n. .) in st. mary's church, warwick, is a monument to-- 'anna norton, henrici porter filia nuper de edgberston in com. warw. generosi; vidua thomae norton.... haec annis et pietate matura vitam deposuit. maii , .' _a brief description of the collegiate church of st. mary in warwick_, published by grafton and reddell, birmingham; no date. _mrs. williams's account of mrs. johnson and her sons by her former marriage_. (vol. i, p. .) the following note by malone i failed to quote in the right place. it is copied from a paper, written by lady knight. 'mrs. williams's account of mrs. johnson was, that she had a good understanding and great sensibility, but inclined to be satirical. her first husband died insolvent [this is a mistake, see _ante_, i. , n. ]; her sons were much disgusted with her for her second marriage; ... however, she always retained her affection for them. while they [mr. and mrs. johnson] resided in gough square, her son, the officer, knocked at the door, and asked the maid if her mistress was at home. she answered, "yes, sir, but she is sick in bed." "oh," says he, "if it's so, tell her that her son jervis called to know how she did;" and was going away. the maid begged she might run up to tell her mistress, and, without attending his answer, left him. mrs. johnson, enraptured to hear her son was below, desired the maid to tell him she longed to embrace him. when the maid descended the gentleman was gone, and poor mrs. johnson was much agitated by the adventure; it was the only time he ever made an effort to see her. dr. [mr.] johnson did all he could to console his wife, but told mrs. williams: "her son is uniformly undutiful; so i conclude, like many other sober men, he might once in his life be drunk, and in that fit nature got the better of his pride."' _johnson's application for the mastership of the grammar school at solihull in warwickshire_. (vol. i, p. .) johnson, a few weeks after his marriage, applied for the mastership of solihull grammar school, as is shown by the following letter, preserved in the pembroke college mss., addressed to mr. walmsley, and quoted by mr. croker. i failed to insert it in my notes. _'solihull, the august ._ 'sir, 'i was favoured with yours of the th inst. in due time, but deferred answering it til now, it takeing up some time to informe the foeofees of the contents thereof; and before they would return an answer, desired some time to make enquiry of the caracter of mr. johnson, who all agree that he is an excellent scholar, and upon that account deserves much better than to be schoolmaster of solihull. but then he has the caracter of being a very haughty, ill-natured gent., and that he has such a way of distorting his face (which though he can't help) the gent, think it may affect some young ladds; for these two reasons he is not approved on, the late master mr. crompton's huffing the foeofees being stil in their memory. however, we are all exstreamly obliged to you for thinking of us, and for proposeing so good a schollar, but more especially is, dear sir, 'your very humble servant, 'henry greswold.' _johnson's knowledge of italian_. (vol. i, p. .) boswell says that he does not know 'at what time, or by what means johnson had acquired a competent knowledge of italian.' in my note on this i say 'he had read petrarch "when but a boy."' as petrarch wrote chiefly in latin, it is quite possible that johnson did not acquire his knowledge of italian so early as i had thought. _johnson's deference for the general opinion_. (vol. i, p. .) miss burney records an interesting piece of criticism by johnson. 'there are,' he said, 'three distinct kinds of judges upon all new authors or productions; the first are those who know no rules, but pronounce entirely from their natural taste and feelings; the second are those who know and judge by rules; and the third are those who know, but are above the rules. these last are those you should wish to satisfy. next to them rate the natural judges; but ever despise those opinions that are formed by the rules.'--_mine. d'arblay's diary_, i. . later on she writes: --'the natural feelings of untaught hearers ought never to be slighted; and dr. johnson has told me the same a thousand times;' ib. ii. . _johnson in the green room_. (vol. i, p. .) mr. richard herne shepherd, in _watford's antiquarian_ for january, , p. , asserts that the actual words which johnson used when he told garrick that he would no longer frequent his green room were indecent; so indecent that mr. shepherd can only venture to satisfy those whom he calls students by informing them of them privately. for proof of this charge against the man whose boast it was that 'obscenity had always been repressed in his company' (_ante_, iv. ) he brings forward john wilkes. the story, indeed, as it is told by boswell, is not too trustworthy, for he had it through hume from garrick. as it reaches mr. shepherd it comes from garrick through wilkes. garrick, no doubt, as johnson says (_ante_, v. ), was, as a companion, 'restrained by some principle,' and had 'some delicacy of feeling.' nevertheless, in his stories, he was, we may be sure, no more on oath than a man is in lapidary inscriptions (_ante_, ii. ). it is possible that he reported johnson's very words to hume, and that hume did not change them in reporting them to boswell. whatever they were, they were spoken in and published in , when johnson had been dead six years, garrick twelve years, and hume fourteen years. it is idle to dream that they can now be conjecturally emended. but it is worse than idle to bring in as evidence john wilkes. what entered his ear as purity itself might issue from his mouth as the grossest obscenity. he had no delicacy of feeling. no principle restrained him. when he comes to bear testimony, and aims a shaft at any man's character, the bow that he draws is drawn with the weakness of the hand of a worn-out and shameless profligate. mr. shepherd quotes an unpublished letter of boswell to wilkes, dated rome, april , , to show 'that the two men had become familiars, not only long before wilkes's famous meeting with dr. johnson was brought about, but before even the friendship of boswell himself with johnson had been consolidated.' it needs no unpublished letters to show that. it must be known to every attentive reader of boswell. see _ante_, i. , and ii. . _frederick iii, king of prussia_. (vol. i, p. .) boswell should have written frederick ii. _boswell's visit to rousseau and voltaire_. (vol. i, p. ; and vol. ii, p. .) _boswell to andrew mitchell, esq., his britannic majesty's minister at berlin_. 'berlin, august, . ... 'i have had another letter from my father, in which he continues of opinion that travelling is of very little use, and may do a great deal of harm. ... i esteem and love my father, and i am determined to do what is in my power to make him easy and happy. but you will allow that i may endeavour to make him happy, and at the same time not to be too hard upon myself. i must use you so much with the freedom of a friend as to tell you that with the vivacity which you allowed me i have a melancholy disposition. i have made excursions into the fields of amusement, perhaps of folly. i have found that amusement and folly are beneath me, and that without some laudable pursuit my life must be insipid and wearisome..... my father seems much against my going to italy, but gives me leave to go from this, and pass some months in paris. i own that the words of the apostle paul, "i must see rome," are strongly _borne in_ upon my mind. it would give me infinite pleasure. it would give taste for a life-time, and i should go home to auchinleck with serene contentment.' after stating that he is going to geneva, he continues:-- 'i shall see voltaire; i shall also see switzerland and rousseau. these two men are to me greater objects than most statues or pictures.' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _superficiality of the french writers_. (vol. i, p. .) gibbon, writing of the year , says:-- 'in france, to which my ideas [in the _essay on the study of literature_] were confined, the learning and language of greece and rome were neglected by a philosophic age. the guardian of those studies, the academy of inscriptions, was degraded to the lowest rank among the three royal societies of paris; the new appellation of _erudits_ was contemptuously applied to the successors of lipsius and casaubon; and i was provoked to hear (see m. d'alembert, _discours préliminaire à l'encyclopedie_) that the exercise of the memory, their sole merit, had been superseded by the nobler faculties of the imagination and the judgment.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _a synod of cooks_. (vol. i, p. .) when johnson spoke of 'a synod of cooks' he was, i conjecture, thinking of milton's 'synod of gods,' in beelzebub's speech in paradise lost, book ii. line . _johnson and bishop percy_. (vol. i, p. .) bishop percy in a letter to boswell says: 'when in or i became acquainted with johnson, he told me he had lived twenty years in london, but not very happily.' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _barclay's answer to kenrick's review of johnson's 'shakespeare.'_ (vol. i, p. .) neither in the british museum nor in the bodleian have i been able to find a copy of this book. _a defence of mr. kenricks review_, , does not seem to contain any reply to such a work as barclay's. _mrs. piozzi's 'collection of johnson s letters.'_ (vol. ii, p. , n. .) mr. boswell to bishop percy. 'feb. , . 'i am ashamed that i have yet seven years to write of his life. ... mrs. (thrale) piozzi's collection of his letters will be out soon. ... i saw a sheet at the printing-house yesterday... it is wonderful what avidity there still is for everything relative to johnson. i dined at mr. malone's on wednesday with mr. w. g. hamilton, mr. flood, mr. windham, mr. courtenay, &c.; and mr. hamilton observed very well what a proof it was of johnson's merit that we had been talking of him all the afternoon.' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _johnson on romantic virtue_. (vol. ii, p. .) 'dr. johnson used to advise his friends to be upon their guard against romantic virtue, as being founded upon no settled principle. "a plank," said he, "that is tilted up at one end must of course fall down on the other." '--william seward, _anecdotes of distinguished persons_, ii. .' _'old' baxter on toleration_. (vol. ii, p. .) the rev. john hamilton davies, b.a., f.r.h.s., rector of st. nicholas's, worcester, and author of _the life of richard baxter of kidderminster, preacher and prisoner_ (london, kent & co., ), kindly informs me, in answer to my inquiries, that he believes that johnson may allude to the following passage in the fourth chapter of baxter's reformed pastor:-- 'i think the magistrate should be the hedge of the church. i am against the two extremes of universal license and persecuting tyranny. the magistrate must be allowed the use of his reason, to know the cause, and follow his own judgment, not punish men against it. i am the less sorry that the magistrate doth so little interpose.' _england barren in good historians_. (vol. ii, p. , n. .) gibbon, writing of the year , says: 'the old reproach that no british altars had been raised to the muse of history was recently disproved by the first performances of robertson and hume, the histories of scotland and of the stuarts.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _an instance of scotch nationality_. (vol. ii, p. .) lord camden, when pressed by dr. berkeley (the bishop's son) to appoint a scotchman to some office, replied: 'i have many years ago sworn that i never will introduce a scotchman into any office; for if you introduce one he will contrive some way or other to introduce forty more cousins or friends.' --g. m. _berkeley's poems_, p. ccclxxi. _mortality in the foundling hospital of london_. (vol. ii, p. .) 'from march , , to december , , the number of children received into the foundling hospital is , , of which have died to december , , , .'--_a tour through the whole island of great britain_, ed. , vol. ii, p. . a great many of these died, no doubt, after they had left the hospital. _mr. planta_. (vol. ii, p. , n. .) the reference is no doubt to mr. joseph planta, assistant-librarian of the british museum , principal librarian - . see edwards' _lives of the founders of the british museum_, pp. sqq.; and nichols's _illustrations of literature_, vol. vii, pp. - . '_unitarian_'. (vol. ii, p. , n. .) john locke in his _second vindication of the reasonableness of christianity_ quotes from mr. edwards whom he answers:--'this gentleman and his fellows are resolved to be unitarians; they are for one article of faith as well as one person in the godhead.' --locke's _works_, ed. , vi, . _the proposed riding school for oxford_. (vol. ii, p. .) my friend, mr. c. e. doble, has pointed out to me the following passage in _collectanea_, first series, edited by mr. c. r. l. fletcher, fellow of all souls college, and printed for the oxford historical society, oxford, . 'the _advertisement to religion and policy, by edward earl of clarendon_, runs as follows:-- "henry viscount cornbury, who was called up to the house of peers by the title of lord hyde, in the lifetime of his father, henry earl of rochester, by a codicil to his will, dated aug. , , left divers mss. of his great grandfather, edward earl of clarendon, to trustees, with a direction that the money to arise from the sale or publication thereof, should be employed as a beginning of a fund for supporting a manage or academy for riding and other useful exercises in oxford; a plan of this sort having been also recommended by lord clarendon in his dialogue on education. lord cornbury dying before his father, this bequest did not take effect. but catharine, one of the daughters of henry earl of rochester, and late duchess dowager of queensbury, whose property these mss. became, afterwards by deed gave them, together with all the monies which had arisen or might arise from the sale or publication of them, to [three trustees] upon trust for the like purposes as those expressed by lord hyde in his codicil." 'the preface to the _life of edward earl of clarendon, written by himself_., has words to the same effect. (see also _notes and queries_, ser. i. x. , and xi. .) 'from a letter in _notes and queries_, ser. ii. x. p. , it appears that in the available sum, in the hands of the trustees of the clarendon bequest, amounted to £ , . the university no longer needed a riding-school, and the claims of physical science were urgent; and in the announcement was made, that by the liberality of the clarendon trustees an additional wing had been added to the university museum, containing the lecture-rooms and laboratories of the department of experimental philosophy.' vol. i. p. . _boswell and mrs. rudd._ (vol. ii, p. , n. .) in mr. alfred morrison's _collection of autographs_, vol. i. p. , mention is made among boswell's autographs of verses entitled _lurgan clanbrassil_, a supposed irish song.' i have learnt, through mr. morrison's kindness, that 'on the document itself there is the following memorandum, signed, so far as can be made out, h. w. r.:-- "the enclosed song was written and composed by james boswell, the biographer of johnson, in commemoration of a tour he made with mrs. rudd whilst she was under his protection, for living with whom he displeased his father so much that he threatened to disinherit him. "mrs. rudd had lived with one of the perreaus, who were tried and executed for forgery. she was tried at the same time and acquitted. "my father having heard that boswell used to sing this song at the home circuit, requested it of him, and he wrote it and gave it him. h.w. r."' "feb. ." christopher smart. (vol. ii, p. , n. .) mr. robert browning, in his parleyings with christopher smart, under the similitude of 'some huge house,' thus describes the general run of that unfortunate poet's verse:-- 'all showed the golden mean without a hint of brave extravagance that breaks the rule. the master of the mansion was no fool assuredly, no genius just as sure! safe mediocrity had scorned the lure of now too much and now too little cost, and satisfied me sight was never lost of moderate design's accomplishment in calm completeness.' mr. browning goes on to liken one solitary poem to a chapel in the house, in which is found-- 'from floor to roof one evidence of how far earth may rival heaven.' _parleyings with certain people of importance in their day_ (pp. - ), london, . _johnsons discussion on baptism--with mr. lloyd, the birmingham quaker_. (vol. ii, p. .) in _farm and its inhabitants_ (_ante_, p. xlii), a further account is given of the controversy between johnson and mr. lloyd the quaker, on the subject of barclay's _apology_. 'tradition states that, losing his temper, dr. johnson threw the volume on the floor, and put his foot on it, in denunciation of its statements. the identical volume is now in the possession of g. b. lloyd, of edgbaston grove. 'at the dinner table he continued the debate in such angry tones, and struck the table so violently that the children were frightened, and desired to escape. 'the next morning dr. johnson went to the bank [mr. lloyd was a banker] and by way of apology called out in his stentorian voice, "i say, lloyd, i'm the best theologian, but you are the best christian.'" p. . it could not have been 'the next morning' that johnson went to the bank, for he left for lichfield on the evening of the day of the controversy (_ante_, ii. ). he must have gone in the afternoon, while boswell was away seeing mr. boulton's great works at soho (ib. p. ). mr. g. b. lloyd, the great-grandson of johnson's host, in a letter written this summer ( ), says: 'having spent much of my boyhood with my grandfather in the old house, i have heard him tell the story of the stamping on the broad volume.' boswell mentions (ib. p. ) that 'mr. and mrs. lloyd, like their majesties, had been blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers being exactly the same.' the author of _farm and its inhabitants_ says (p. ): 'there is a tradition that when sampson lloyd's wife used to feel depressed by the care of such a large family (they had sixteen children) he would say to her, "never mind, the twentieth will be the most welcome."' his fifteenth child catharine married dr. george birkbeck, the founder of the mechanics' institutes (ib. p. ). a story told (p. ) of one of mr. lloyd's sons-in-law, joseph biddle, is an instance of that excess of forgetfulness which johnson called 'morbid oblivion' (_ante_, v. ). 'he went to pay a call in leamington. the servant asked him for his name, he could not remember it; in perplexity he went away, when a friend in the street met him and accosted him, "how do you do, mr. biddle?" "oh, biddle, biddle, biddle, that's the name," cried he, and rushed off to pay his call.' the editor is in error in stating (p. , n. ) that a very poor poem entitled _a bone for friend mary to pick_, is by johnson. it may be found in the _gent. mag._ for , p. . _lichfield in ._ (vol. ii, p. .) c. p. moritz, a young prussian clergyman who published an account of a pedestrian tour that he made in england in the year , thus describes lichfield as he saw it on a day in june:-- 'at noon i got to lichfield, an old-fashioned town with narrow dirty streets, where for the first time i saw round panes of glass in the windows. the place to me wore an unfriendly appearance; i therefore made no use of my recommendation, but went straight through and only bought some bread at a baker's, which i took along with me.'--_travels in england in _, p. , by c. p. moritz. cassell's national library, . the 'recommendation' was an introduction to an inn given him by the daughter of his landlord at sutton, who told him 'that the people in lichfield were, in general, very proud.' travelling as he did, on foot and without luggage, he was looked upon with suspicion at the inns, and often rudely refused lodging. _richard baxter's doubt_. (vol. ii, p. .) the rev. j. hamilton davies [see _ante_, p. xlix. ] informs me that there can be no doubt that johnson referred to the following passage in _reliquiae baxterianae_, folio edition of , p. :-- 'this is another thing which i am changed in; that whereas in my younger days i was never tempted to doubt of the truth of scripture or christianity, but all my doubts and fears were exercised at home, about my own sincerity and interest in christ--since then my sorest assaults have been on the other side, and such they were, that had i been void of internal experience, and the adhesion of love, and the special help of god, and had not discerned more reason for my religion than i did when i was younger, i had certainly apostatized to infidelity,' &c. johnson, the day after he recorded his 'doubt,' wrote that he was 'troubled with baxter's _scruple_' (_ante_, ii. ). the 'scruple' was, perhaps, the same as the 'doubt.' in his _dictionary_ he defines _scruple_ as _doubt; difficulty of determination; perplexity; generally about minute things_. _oxford in _. (vol. iii, p. , n. .) the rev. c. p. moritz (_ante_, p. liv) gives a curious account of his visit to oxford. on his way from dorchester on the evening of a sunday in june, he had been overtaken by the rev. mr. maud, who seems to have been a fellow and tutor of corpus college[ ], and who was returning from doing duty in his curacy. it was late when they arrived in the town. moritz, who, as i have said, more than once had found great difficulty in getting a bed, had made up his mind to pass the summer night on a stonebench in the high street. his comrade would not hear of this, but said that he would take him to an ale-house where 'it is possible they mayn't be gone to bed, and we may yet find company.' this ale-house was the mitre. 'we went on a few houses further, and then knocked at a door. it was then nearly twelve. they readily let us in; but how great was my astonishment when, on being shown into a room on the left, i saw a great number of clergymen, all with their gowns and bands on, sitting round a large table, each with his pot of beer before him. my travelling companion introduced me to them as a german clergyman, whom he could not sufficiently praise for my correct pronunciation of the latin, my orthodoxy, and my good walking. 'i now saw myself in a moment, as it were, all at once transported into the midst of a company, all apparently very respectable men, but all strangers to me. and it appeared to me extraordinary that i should thus at midnight be in oxford, in a large company of oxonian clergy, without well knowing how i had got there. meanwhile, however, i took all the pains in my power to recommend myself to my company, and in the course of conversation i gave them as good an account as i could of our german universities, neither denying nor concealing that now and then we had riots and disturbances. "oh, we are very unruly here, too," said one of the clergymen, as he took a hearty draught out of his pot of beer, and knocked on the table with his hand. the conversation now became louder, more general, and a little confused. ... at last, when morning drew near, mr. maud suddenly exclaimed, "d-n me, i must read prayers this morning at all souls!" "d-n me" is an abbreviation of "g-d d-n me," which in england does not seem to mean more mischief or harm than any of our or their common expletives in conversation, such as "o gemini!" or "the deuce take me!" ... i am almost ashamed to own, that next morning, when i awoke, i had got so dreadful a headache from the copious and numerous toasts of my jolly and reverend friends that i could not possibly get up. --_travels in england in _, by c. p. moritz, p. . [footnote : no such person appears in the _catalogue of graduates_.] _dr. lettsom_. (vol. in, p. .) boswell in an _ode to mr. charles dilly_, published in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , says that dr. lettsom 'refutes pert priestley's nonsense.' _william vachell_. (vol. iii, p. , n. .) mr. george parker of the bodleian library informs me that william vachell had been tutor to prince esterhazy, and that for many years he held the appointment of 'pumper,' or lessee of the baths at bath. in and he paid as rental for them to the corporation £ . he died on november , . according to mr. ivor vachell (_notes and queries_, th s. vii. ), it was his eldest son who signed the round robin. _johnson and baretti_. (vol. iii, p. , n. .) baretti in his _tolondron_, p. , gives an account of a difference between himself and johnson. johnson sent to ask him to call on him, but baretti was leaving town. when he returned the time for a reconciliation had passed, for johnson was dead. _english pulpit eloquence_. (vol. iii, p. .) 'upon the whole, which is preferable, the philosophic method of the english, or the rhetoric of the french preachers? the first (though less glorious) is certainly safer for the preacher. it is difficult for a man to make himself ridiculous, who proposes only to deliver plain sense on a subject he has thoroughly studied. but the instant he discovers the least pretensions towards the sublime or the pathetic, there is no medium; we must either admire or laugh; and there are so many various talents requisite to form the character of an orator that it is more than probable we shall laugh.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _bishop percy's communications to boswell relative to johnson_. (vol. iii, p. , n. .) 'james boswell to bishop percy. " april, . "as to suppressing your lordship's name when relating the very few anecdotes of johnson with which you have favoured me, i will do anything to oblige your lordship but that very thing. i owe to the authenticity of my work, to its respectability, and to the credit of my illustrious friends [? friend] to introduce as many names of eminent persons as i can... believe me, my lord, you are not the only bishop in the number of great men with which my pages are graced. i am quite resolute as to this matter." '--nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _sir thomas brown's remark 'do the devils lie? no; for then hell could not subsist._' (vol. iii, p. .) this remark, whether it is brown's or not, may have been suggested by milton's lines in _paradise lost_, ii. - , or might have suggested them:-- 'o shame to men! devil with devil damn'd firm concord holds, men only disagree of creatures rational.' _johnson on the advantages of having a profession or business_. (vol. iii, p. , n. .) 'dr. johnson was of opinion that the happiest as well as the most virtuous persons were to be found amongst those who united with a business or profession a love of literature.' --seward's _biographiana_, p. . _johnson's trips to the country_. (vol. iii, p. .) i have omitted to mention johnson's visit to 'squire dilly's mansion at southill in june, (_ante_, iv. - ). _citations of living authors in johnson's dictionary_. (vol. iv, p. , n. .) johnson cites _irene_ under _impostures_, and lord lyttelton under _twist_. _dr. parrs evening with dr. johnson_. (vol. iv, p. .) the rev. john rigaud, b.d., fellow of magdalen college, oxford, has kindly sent me the following anecdote of the meeting of johnson and parr:-- 'i remember dr. routh, the old president of magdalen, telling me of an interview and conversation between dr. johnson and dr. parr, in the course of which the former made use of some expression respecting the latter, which considerably wounded and offended him. "sir," he said to dr. johnson, "you know that what you have just said will be known in four-and-twenty hours over this vast metropolis." upon which dr. johnson's manner altered, his eye became calm, and he put out his hand, and said, "forgive me, parr, i didn't quite mean it." "but," said the president, with an amused and amusing look, "_i never could get him to tell me what it was dr. johnson had said!_" he spoke of seeing dr. johnson going up the steps into university college, dressed, i think, in a snuff-coloured coat.' dr. martin joseph routh, who was president of magdalen college for sixty-four years, was born in and died on december , . '_solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris_.' (vol. iv, p. , n. .) malone's note on _the rape of lucrece_ must have been, not as i conjectured on line , but on lines - :-- 'it easeth some, though none it ever cured, to think their dolour others have endured.' with these lines may be compared satan's speech in _paradise regained_, book i, lines - :-- 'long since with woe nearer acquainted, now i feel by proof, that fellowship in pain divides not smart, nor lightens aught each man's peculiar load.' _richard baxter's rule of preaching_. (vol. iv, p. .) the rev. j. hamilton davies [see _ante_, p. xlix.] has furnished me with the following extract from _reliquiae baxterianae_, ed. , p. , in illustration of johnson's statement:-- 'and yet i did usually put in something in my sermon which was above their own discovery, and which they had not known before; and this i did, that they might be kept humble, and still perceive their ignorance, and be willing to keep in a learning state. (for when preachers tell their people of no more than they know, and do not shew that they excel them in knowledge, and easily overtop them in abilities, the people will be tempted to turn preachers themselves, and think that they have learnt all that the ministers can teach them, and are as wise as they------). and this i did also to increase their knowledge; and also to make religion pleasant to them, by a daily addition to their former sight, and to draw them on with desire and delight.' _opposition to sir joshua reynolds in the royal academy_. (vol. iv, p. , n. .) 'james boswell, esq., to bishop percy. ' march, . 'sir joshua has been shamefully used by a junto of the academicians. i live a great deal with him, and he is much better than you would suppose.' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _richard baxter on the possible salvation of a suicide_. (vol. iv, p. .) the rev. j. hamilton davies writes to me that 'dr. johnson's quotation about suicide must surely be wrong. i have no recollection in any of baxter's _works_ of such a statement, and it is in direct contradiction to all that is known of his sentiments. 'mr. davies sends me the following passage, which possibly johnson might have very imperfectly remembered:-- 'the commonest cause [of suicide] is melancholy, &c. though there be much more hope of the salvation of such as want the use of their understandings, because so far it may be called involuntary, yet it is a very dreadful case, especially so far as reason remaineth in any power.' --baxter's _christian directory, edited by orme, part iv, p. . _haslitt's report of baxter's sermon_. (vol. iv, p. , n. .) the rev. j. hamilton davies tells me that he 'entirely disbelieves that baxter said, "hell was paved with infants' skulls." the same thing, or something very like it, has been said of calvin, but i could never,' mr. davies continues, 'find it in his works.' he kindly sends me the following extract from _reliquiae baxterianae_, ed. , p. :-- 'once all the ignorant rout were raging mad against me for preaching the doctrine of original sin to them, and telling them that infants before regeneration had so much guilt and corruption, as made them loathsome in the eyes of god: whereupon they vented it abroad in the country, that i preached that god hated, or loathed infants; so that they railed at me as i passed through the streets. the next lord's day, i cleared and confirmed it, and shewed them that if this were not true, their infants had no need of christ, of baptism, or of renewing by the holy ghost. and i asked them whether they durst say that their children were saved without a saviour, and were no christians, and why they baptized them, with much more to that purpose, and afterwards they were ashamed and as mute as fishes.' _johnson on an actor's transformation_. (vol. iv, p. .) boswell in his _remarks on the profession of a player_ (essay ii), first printed in the _london magazine_ for , says:-- 'i remember to have heard the most illustrious authour of this age say: "if, sir, garrick believes himself to be every character that he represents he is a madman, and ought to be confined. nay, sir, he is a villain, and ought to be hanged. if, for instance, he believes himself to be macbeth he has committed murder, he is a vile assassin who, in violation of the laws of hospitality as well as of other principles, has imbrued his hands in the blood of his king while he was sleeping under his roof. if, sir, he has really been that person in his own mind, he has in his own mind been as guilty as macbeth." '--nichols's _literary history_, ed. , vii. . _sir john flayer 'on the asthma_.' (vol. iv, p. .) johnson, writing from ashbourne to dr. brocklesby on july , , says: 'i am now looking into floyer who lived with his asthma to almost his ninetieth year.' mr. samuel timmins, the author of _dr. johnson in birmingham_, informs me that he and two friends of his lately found in lichfield a lending book of the cathedral library. among the entries for was: '_sir john floyer on the asthma_, lent to dr. johnson.' johnson, no doubt, had taken the book with him to ashbourne. mr. timmins says that the entries in this lending book unfortunately do not begin till about (or later). 'if,' he adds, 'the earlier lending book could be found, it would form a valuable clue to books which johnson may have borrowed in his youth and early manhood.' _boswell's expectations from burke_. (vol. iv, p. , n. ; and p. , n. .) boswell, in may , mentioned to johnson his 'expectations from the interest of an eminent person then in power.' the two following extracts from letters written by him show what some of these expectations had been. 'james boswell, esq. to james abercrombie, esq., of philadelphia. 'july , . 'i have a great wish to see america; and i once flattered myself that i should be sent thither in a station of some importance.' nichols's _literary history_, vii. . boswell had written to burke on march , : 'most heartily do i rejoice that our present ministers have at last yielded to conciliation (_ante_, iii. ). for amidst all the sanguinary zeal of my countrymen, i have professed myself a friend to our fellow-subjects in america, so far as they claim an exemption from being taxed by the representatives of the king's british subjects. i do not perfectly agree with you; for i deny the declaratory act, and i am a warm tory in its true constitutional sense. i wish i were a commissioner, or one of the secretaries of the commission for the grand treaty. i am to be in london this spring, and if his majesty should ask me what i would choose, my answer will be to assist at the compact between britain and america.' --_burke's correspondence_, ii. . _boswelf's intention to attend on johnson in his illness, and to publish 'praises' of him._ (vol. iv, p. .) 'james boswell, esq., to bishop percy. 'edinburgh, march, . "...i intend to be in london about the end of this month, chiefly to attend upon dr. johnson with respectful affection. he has for some time been very ill...i wish to publish as a regale [_ante_, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ] to him a neat little volume, _the praises of dr. johnson, by contemporary writers_. ...will your lordship take the trouble to send me a note of the writers you recollect having praised our much respected friend?...an edition of my pamphlet [_ante_, iv. ] has been published in london."' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _the reported russian version of the 'rambler'_. (vol. iv, p. , n. .) i am informed by my friend, mr. w. r. morfill, m.a., of oriel college, oxford, who has, i suppose, no rival in this country in his knowledge of the slavonic tongues, that no russian translation of the rambler has been published. he has given me the following title of the russian version of _rasselas_, which he has obtained for me through the kindness of professor grote, of the university of warsaw:-- 'rasselas, printz abissinskii, vostochnaya poviest sochinenie doktora dzhonsona perevod s'angliiskago. chasti, moskva. . 'rasselas, prince of abyssinia, an eastern tale, by doctor johnson. translated from the english. parts, moscow, .' '_it has not wit enough to keep it sweet_.' (vol. iv, p. .) 'heylyn, in the epistle to his _letter-combate_, addressing baxter, and speaking of such "unsavoury pieces of wit and mischief" as "the _church-historian_" asks, "would you not have me rub them with a little salt to keep them sweet?" this passage was surely present in the mind of dr. johnson when he said concerning _the rehearsal_ that "it had not wit enough to keep it sweet."' --j. e. bailey's _life of thomas fuller_, p. . _pictures of johnson_. (vol. iv, p. , n. .) in the common room of trinity college, oxford, there is an interesting portrait of johnson, said to be by romney. i cannot, however, find any mention of it in the _life_ of that artist. it was presented to the college by canon duckworth. _the gregory family_. (vol. v, p. , n. .) mr. p. j. anderson (in _notes and queries_, th s. iii. ) casts some doubt on chalmers' statement. he gives a genealogical table of the gregory family, which includes thirteen professors; but two of these cannot, from their dates, be reckoned among chalmers' sixteen. _the university of st. andrews in _. (vol. v, p. , n. .) in the preface to _poems by george monck berkeley_, it is recorded (p. cccxlviii) that when 'mr. berkeley entered at the university of st. andrews [about ], one of the college officers called upon him to deposit a crown to pay for the windows he might break. mr. berkeley said, that as he should reside in his father's house, it was little likely he should break any windows, having never, that he remembered, broke one in his life. he was assured that he _would_ do it at st. andrews. on the rising of the session several of the students said, "now for the windows. come, it is time to set off, let us sally forth!" mr. berkeley, being called upon, enquired what was to be done? they replied, "why, to break every window in college." "for what reason?" "oh! no reason; but that it has always been done from time immemorial."' the editor goes on to say that mr. berkeley prevailed on them to give up the practice. how poor some of the students were is shown by the following anecdote, told by the college porter, who had to collect the crowns. 'i am just come,' he said, 'from a poor student indeed. i went for the window _croon_; he cried, begged, and prayed not to pay it, saying, "he brought but a croon to keep him all the session, and he had spent sixpence of it; so i have got only four and sixpence."' his father, a labourer, who owned three cows, 'had sold one to dress his son for the university, and put the lamented croon in his pocket to purchase coals. all the lower students study by fire-light. he had brought with him a large tub of oatmeal and a pot of salted butter, on which he was to subsist from oct. until may .' berkeley raised 'a very noble subscription' for the poor fellow. in another passage (p. cxcviii) it is recorded that berkeley 'boasted to his father, "well, sir, idle as you may think me, i never have once bowed at any professor's lecture." an explanation being requested of the word _bowing_, it was thus given: "why, if any poor fellow has been a little idle, and is not prepared to speak when called upon by the professor, he gets up and makes a respectful-bow, and sits down again."' berkeley was a grandson of bishop berkeley. _johnson's unpublished sermons_. (vol. v, p. , n. i.) 'james boswell, esq., to james abercrombie, esq., of philadelphia. 'june , . "i have not yet been able to discover any more of johnson's sermons besides those left for publication by dr. taylor. i am informed by the lord bishop of salisbury, that he gave an excellent one to a clergyman, who preached and published it in his own name on some public occasion. but the bishop has not as yet told me the name, and seems unwilling to do it. yet i flatter myself i shall get at it."' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _tillotson's argument against the doctrine of transubstantiation._ (vol. v, p. .) gibbon, writing of his reconversion from roman catholicism to protestantism in the year , after allowing something to the conversation of his swiss tutor, says:-- 'i must observe that it was principally effected by my private reflections; and i still remember my solitary transport at the discovery of a philosophical argument against the doctrine of transubstantiation-- _that_ the text of scripture which seems to inculcate the real presence is attested only by a single sense-- our sight; while the real presence itself is disproved by three of our senses--the sight, the touch, and the taste.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _jean pierre de crousaz_. (vol. v, p. .) gibbon, describing his education at lausanne, says:--'the principles of philosophy were associated with the examples of taste; and by a singular chance the book as well as the man which contributed the most effectually to my education has a stronger claim on my gratitude than on my admiration. m. de crousaz, the adversary of bayle and pope, is not distinguished by lively fancy or profound reflection; and even in his own country, at the end of a few years, his name and writings are almost obliterated. but his philosophy had been formed in the school of locke, his divinity in that of limborch and le clerc; in a long and laborious life several generations of pupils were taught to think and even to write; his lessons rescued the academy of lausanne from calvinistic prejudice; and he had the rare merit of diffusing a more liberal spirit among the clergy and people of the pays de vaud.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _the new pavement in london._ (vol. v, p. , n. .) 'by an act passed in , _for the better cleansing, paving, and enlightning the city of london and liberties thereof_, &c., powers are granted in pursuance of which the great streets have been paved with whyn-quarry stone, or rock-stone, or stone of a flat surface.' --_a tour through the whole island of great britain_, ed. , vol. ii, p. . _boswell's projected works._ (vol. v, p. , n. .) to this list should be added an account of a tour to the isle of man (_ante_, iii. ). _a cancel in the first edition of boswell's 'journal of a tour to the hebrides_.' (vol. v, p. .) in my note on the suppression of offensive passages in the second edition of boswell's _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ (_ante_, v. ), i mention that rowlandson in one of his _caricatures_ paints boswell begging sir alexander macdonald for mercy, while on the ground lie pages , , torn out. i have discovered, though too late to mention in the proper place, that in the first edition the leaf containing pages , , was really cancelled. in my own copy i noticed between pages and a narrow projecting slip of paper. i found the same in the copy in the british museum. mr. horace hart, the printer to the university, who has kindly examined my copy, informs me that the leaf was cancelled after the sheets had been stitched together. it was cut out, but an edge was left to which the new one was attached by paste. the leaf thus treated begins with the words 'talked with very high respect' (_ante_, v. ) and ends 'this day was little better than a blank' (_ante_, v. ). this conclusion was perhaps meant to be significant to the observant reader. _boswell's conversation with the king about the title proper to be given to the young pretender._ (vol. v, p. , n. .) dr. lort wrote to bishop percy on aug. , :-- 'boswell's book [_the tour to the hebrides_], i suppose, will be out in the winter. the king at his levée talked to him, as was natural, on this subject. boswell told his majesty that he had another work on the anvil--a _history of the rebellion in_ (_ante_, iii. ); but that he was at a loss how to style the principal person who figured in it. "how would you style him, mr. boswell?" "i was thinking, sire, of calling him the grandson of the unfortunate james the second." "that i have no objection to; my title to the crown stands on firmer ground --on an act of parliament." this is said to be the _substance_ of a conversation which passed at the levée. i wish i was certain of the exact words.' --nichols's _literary history_, vii. . _shakespeare's popularity_. (vol. v, p. , n. .) gibbon, after describing how he used to attend voltaire's private theatre at monrepos in and , continues:-- 'the habits of pleasure fortified my taste for the french theatre, and that taste has perhaps abated my idolatry for the gigantic genius of shakespeare, which is inculcated from our infancy as the first duty of an englishman.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _archibald campbell_. (vol. v, p. .) mr. c. e. doble informs me that in the bodleian library 'there is a characteristic letter of archibald campbell in a _life of francis lee_ in rawlinson, j., to. . ; and also a skeleton life of him in rawlinson, j., to. . .' _cocoa tree club._ (vol. v, p. , n. .) gibbon records in his journal on november , , a visit to the cocoa tree club:-- 'that respectable body, of which i have the honour of being a member, affords every evening a sight truly english. twenty or thirty, perhaps, of the first men in the kingdom in point of fashion and fortune, supping at little tables covered with a napkin, in the middle of a coffee-room, upon a bit of cold meat or a sandwich, and drinking a glass of punch. at present we are full of king's counsellors and lords of the bed-chamber, who, having jumped into the ministry, make a very singular medley of their old principles and language with their modern ones.' --_memoirs of edward gibbon_, ed. , i. . _johnson's use of the word 'big'_. (vol. v, p. .) on volume i, page , johnson says: 'don't, sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters.' _atlas, the duke of devonshire's race-horse._ (vol. v, p. .) johnson, in his _diary of a journey into north wales_, records on july , :-- 'at chatsworth..., atlas, fifteen hands inch and half.' mr. duppa in a note on this, says: 'a race-horse, which attracted so much of dr. johnson's attention, that he said, "of all the duke's possessions i like atlas best."' thomas holcroft, who in childhood wandered far and wide with his father, a pedlar, was at nottingham during the race-week of the year or , and saw in its youth the horse which johnson so much admired in its old age. he says: 'the great and glorious part which nottingham held in the annals of racing this year, arose from the prize of the king's plate, which was to be contended for by the two horses which everybody i heard speak considered as undoubtedly the best in england, and perhaps equal to any that had ever been known, childers alone excepted. their names were careless and atlas.....there was a story in circulation that atlas, on account of his size and clumsiness, had been banished to the cart-breed; till by some accident, either of playfulness or fright, several of them started together; and his vast advantage in speed happening to be noticed, he was restored to his blood companions.....alas for the men of nottingham, careless was conquered. i forget whether it was at two or three heats, but there was many an empty purse on that night, and many a sorrowful heart.' --_memoirs of thomas holcroft_, i. . sir richard clough. (vol. v, p. .) there is an interesting note on sir richard clough, the founder of bâch y graig, in professor rhys's edition of pennant's _tours in wales_ (vol. ii, p. ). the professor writes to me:-- 'sir richard clough's wealth was so great that it became a saying of the people in north wales that a man who grew very wealthy was or had become a clough. this has long been forgotten; but it is still said in welsh, in north wales, that a very rich man is a regular _clwch_, which is pronounced with the guttural spirant, which was then (in the th century) sounded in english, just as the english word _draught_ (of drink) is in welsh _dracht_ pronounced nearly as if it were german.' _evan evans._ (vol. v, p. .) evan evans, who is described as being 'incorrigibly addicted to strong drink,' was curate of llanvair talyhaern, in denbighshire, and author of _some specimens of the poetry of antient welsh bards translated into english_. london, r. & j. dodsley, . my friend mr. morfill informs me that he remembers to have seen it stated in a manuscript note in a book in the bodleian, that 'evan evans would have written much more if he had not been so much given up to the bottle.' gray thus mentions evan evans in a letter to dr. wharton, written in july, :-- 'the welsh poets are also coming to light. i have seen a discourse in ms. about them (by one mr. evans, a clergyman) with specimens of their writings. this is in latin; and though it don't approach the other [macpherson], there are fine scraps among it.' --_the works of thomas gray_, ed. by the rev. john mitford. london, , vol. iii, p. . index to the addenda. abercrombie, james, lxii, lxvi. addenbroke, dean, xxxiv. atlas, the race-horse, lxix, lxx. barclay's answer to kenrick's review of johnson's shakespeare, xlviii. baretti, joseph, lvii. baskett, mr., xxxii. bathurst, dr., proposal for a _geographical dictionary_, xxi. baxter, richard, on toleration, xlix; his doubt, liv; rule of preaching, lx; on the possible salvation of a suicide, lx; on the portion of babies who die unbaptized, lxi. berkeley, dr., xlix. berkeley, george monck, lxv. _big_, lxix. boswell, james, bishop percy's communications, lvii; johnson in his last illness, and to publish 'praises' of him, lxiii; _lurgan clanbrassil_, li; projected works, lxvii; _remarks on the profession of a player_, lxi; visit to rousseau and voltaire, xlvi. browne, sir thomas, lviii. browning, mr. robert, lii. burke, edmund, lxii. camden, lord, xlix. campbell, archibald, lxix. 'caution' money, xxxii. clarendon, edward, earl of, l. clarendon press, xxxii. clough, sir richard, lxx. cocoa tree club, lxix. crousaz, jean pierre de, lxvi. davenport, william, xxxv. davies, rev. j. hamilton, xlix, liv, lx, lxi. dodsley, robert, xxvi. _don belianis_, xli. england barren in good historians, xlix. english pulpit eloquence, lvii. evans, evan, lxxi. eyre, mr., xxxii. _farm and its inhabitants_, xlii, liii. _felixmarte of hircania_, xli. floyer, sir john, lxii. foundling hospital, l. franking letters, xxxvii. frederick ii. of prussia, xlvi. french writers, their superficiality, xlvii. fuller, thomas, _life_, lxiv. garrick, david, xli, xlv, lxi. gibbon, edward, xlvii, lvii, lxvi, lxviii, lxix. gough, richard, xxxiv. gray, thomas, lxxi. gregory family, lxiv. harington's _nugae antiqua_, xxxv. hazlitt, william, lxi. _history of the marchioness de pompadour_, xxix. holcroft, thomas, lxx. hume, david, xlv. 'it has not wit enough to keep it sweet,' lxiv. johnson, michael, xl. johnson, mr., a bookseller, xxix. johnson, mrs., xliii. johnson, samuel, advantages of having a profession or business, lviii; advice about studying, xxxii; anonymous publications, xxix; application for the mastership of solihull school, xliv; citation of living authors in the dictionary, lviii; critics of three classes, xlv; difference with baretti, lvii; discussion on baptism with mr. lloyd, liii; knowledge of italian, xliv; letters to william strahan: apology about some work that was passing through the press, xxv; apprenticing a lad to mr. strahan, and a presentation to the blue coat school, xxxv; bathurst's projected _geographical dictionary_, xxi; cancel in the _journey to the western islands of scotland_, xxxiii; 'copy' and a book by professor watson, xxxvii; george strahan's election to a scholarship, xxx; miss williams, taxes due, and a journey, xxvii; printing the _dictionary_, xxv-xxviii; _rasselas_, xxviii; suppressions in _taxation no tyranny_, xxxvi; letter to dr. taylor, xxxviii; portraits, lxiv; public interest in him, xlviii; romantic virtue, xlviii; transformation of an actor, lxi; trips to the country, lviii; unpublished sermons, lxvi; use of the word _big_, lxix. jones, sir william, xxxi. kenrick, dr. william xlviii. langley, rev. w., xxxv. lettsom dr., lvi lichfield, cathedral, xxxiv; city, and county, xl; described by c. p. moritz, liv. lloyd, olivia, xlii. lloyd, sampson, xlii, liii. locke, john, . london pavement, lxvii. lort, dr., lxviii. mason, rev. william, xxxix. maud, rev. mr., lv. millar, andrew, xxv, xxviii. mitchell, andrew, xlvi. moritz, c. p., _travels in england in_ , liv, lv. morrison's, mr. alfred, _collection of autographs_, xxxviii, li. newton, bishop thomas, xxxiv. oxford the proposed riding school, l; in , lv; university college, xxx. _palmerin of england_, xli. parr, dr., lix. percy, bishop, xlviii, lvii. piozzi's, mrs., 'collection of johnson's letters,' xlviii. planta, joseph, . porteous, captain, xxvii. porter, henry, xliii. pretender, young, lxviii. priestley, dr. joseph, lvi. _rambler_, reported russian version, lxiii. reynolds, sir joshua, lx. robertson, dr. william, xxxvii. rousseau, j. j., xlvi. routh, dr., lix. rudd, mrs., lii. scotch nationality, xlix. shakespeare's popularity, lxviii. shaw, rev. mr., xxxvii. shepherd, mr. r. h., xlv. simpson, rev. w. sparrow, xxxiv. smart, christopher, lii. _solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris_, lix. st. andrews university, lxv. stewart, francis, xxvi. strahan, george, xxx. strahan, william, xxi, xxvi, xxxii, xxxiii, xxxvi, xxxviii. synod of cooks, xlvii. taylor, dr. john, xxxviii. taylor, john, of birmingham, xlii. thrale, henry, xxxviii. tillotson, archbishop, lxvi. 'unitarian,' l. vachell, william, lvi. voltaire, xlvi, lxviii. _walfords antiquarian_, xlv. watson, rev. professor, xxxvii. whitehead, william, xxxix. wilkes, john, xlv. williams, miss, xxvii. index a. abbreviating names, johnson's habit of, ii. , n. . abel drugger, iii. . abercrombie, james, ii. , , n. . aberdeen, second earl of, v. . abernethy, dr., iv. , n. . abernethy, rev. john, v. . abingdon, fourth earl of, iii. , n. . abington, mrs., her jelly, ii. ; johnson at her benefit, ii. , , ; she stoops to conquer, ii. , n. . abjuration, oath of, ii. , n. . abney, sir thomas, i. , n. . abreu, marquis of, i. . abridgments, defended by johnson, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; like a cow's calf, v. . abroad, advice to people going, iv. . abruptness, i. . absolute princes, ii. . abstemious, johnson, _not temperate_, i. . absurdities, delineating, iv. . abud,----, v. , n. . abuse, coarse and refined, iv. . _abyssinia, a voyage to_, i. . _academia delta crusca_, i. , . _academy_, mr. doble's notes on the authorship of _the whole duty of man_, ii. , n. . _accommodate_, v. , n. . _account of an attempt to ascertain the longitude_, i. , n. , , , n. ; ii. , n. . _account of the late revolution in sweden_, iii. . _account of scotland in _, iii. . account-keeping, iv. . accuracy, requires immediate record, ii. , n. ; and vigilance, iv. ; needful in delineating absurdities, iv. ; johnson's sayings not accurately reported, ii. . see boswell, authenticity. acham, v. , n. . achilles, shield of, iv. . _acid_, ii. . _acis and galatea_, iii. , n. . acquaintance, should be varied, iv. ; making new, iv. . acting, iv. - ; v. . action in speaking, ridiculed, i. ; useful only in addressing brutes, ii. . actors. see players. _ad lauram parituram epigramma_, i. . _ad ricardum savage_, i. , n. . _ad urbanum_, i. . adam, robert, _works in architecture_, iii. . adamites, ii. . adams, george, _treatise on the globes_, ii. . adams, john, the american envoy, ii. , n. . adams, rev. william, d.d., boswell, letter to, i. ; everlasting punishment, on, iv. ; hume, answers, i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. , n. a; dines with him, ii. ; johnson awed by him, i. ; and boswell visit him in , ii. ; in june, , iv. ; well-treated, iv. ; and chesterfield, i. - ; and dr. clarke, iv. , n. ; _dictionary_, i. ; hypochondria, i. ; last visit, iv. ; nominal tutor, i. ; _prayers and meditations_, iv. , n. ; projected book of family prayers, ; and dr. price, iv. ; projected _bibliotheque_, i. ; projected _life of alfred_, i. ; undergraduate days, i. , n. l, , , ; ii. ; will, not mentioned, in, iv. , n. ; master of pembroke college, v. , n. ; rector of st. chad's, shrewsbury, v. ; mentioned, i. , ; v. , n. . adams, mrs., iv. , . adams, miss, defends women against johnson, iv. ; describes him in letters, iv. , n. , , n. ; his death, iv. , n. ; his gallantry, iv. ; mentioned, iv. . adams, william, founder of newport school, i. , n, . adams, the brothers, the architects, ii. . adbaston, i. , n. . addison, bonn's edition, iv. , n. ; borrows out of modesty, v. , n. ; boswell's projected work, i. , n. ; budgell's papers in the _spectator_, iii. ; _epilogue to the distressed mother_, ib.; _cato_, dennis criticises it, iii. , n. ; johnson, i. , n. ; parson adams praises it, i. , n. ; prologue, i. , n. ; eight quotations added to the language, i. , n. ; quotations from it, 'honour's a sacred tie,' v. ; 'indifferent in his choice,' iii. , n. ; the numidian's luxury, iii. ; 'obscurely good,' iv. , n. ; 'painful pre-eminence,' iii. , n. ; 'the romans call it stoicism,' i. ; 'smothered in the dusty whirlwind,' v. ; 'this must end 'em,' ii. , n. ; christian religion, defence of the, v. , ' . ; conversation, ii. ; iii. ; death of a piece with a man's life, v. , n. ; death-bed described by h. walpole, v. , n. ; dedication of _rosamond_, v. , n. ; encouraged a man in his absurdity, v. ; english historians, ii. , n. ; familiar day, his, iv. , n. ; _freeholder_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , , n. ; freeport, sir andrew, ii. ; v. ; french learning, v. ; general knowledge in his time rare, iv. , n. ; ghosts, iv. ; italian learning, ii. ; v. ; johnson praises him, i. ; judgment of the public, i. , n. ; latin verses, i. , n. ; leandro alberti, ii. ; _life_ by johnson, iv. - ; 'mixed wit,' i. , n. ; newton on space, v. , n. ; 'nine-pence in ready money,' ii. ; _notanda_, i. ; party-lying, ii. , n. ; pope's lines on him, ii. ; _procerity_, i. ; prose, iv. , n. ; _remarks on italy_, ii. ; v. ; socrates, projected tragedy on, v. , n. ; _spectator_, his half of the, iii. ; dexterity rewarded by a king, iii. ; knotting, iii. , n. ; pamphleteer, iii. , n. ; portrait of a clergyman, iv. ; preacher in a country town, iv. , n. ; sir roger de coverley's incipient madness, i. , n. ; ii. ; death, ii. ; story of the widow, ii. ; thames ribaldry, iv. ; _the old man's wish_ sung to him, iv. , n. ; _stavo bene_ &c., ii. ; steele, loan to, iv. , ; style, i. , , n. ; swift, compared with, v. ; wine, love of, i. ; iii. ; iv. , : v. , n. ; warm with wine when he wrote _spectators_, iv. . _address of the painters to george iii_, i. . _address to the throne_, i. . addresses to the crown in , i. ; iv. . adelphi, built by the adams, ii. , n, ; beauclerk's 'box,' ii. , n. ; iv. ; boswell and johnson at the rails, iv. ; garrick's house, iv. . adey, miss, i. , ; iii. ; iv. . adey, mrs., ii. ; iii. . admiration, ii. . adoption, ancient mode of, i. . _adriani morientis ad animam suam_, iii. , n. . adultery, comparative guilt of a husband and wife, ii. ; iii. ; confusion of property caused by it, ii. . advent-sunday, ii. . _adventurer_, started by hawkesworth, i. ; contributors, i. , n. , - ; v. ; johnson's contributions, i. - ; his love of london, i. ; papers marked t., i. . _adventures of a guinea_, v. . _adversaria_, johnson's, i. . adversaries. see antagonists. _advice to the grub-street verse-writers_, i. , n. . advisers, the common deficiency of, iii. . _àgri ephemeris_, iv. . aeschylus, darius's shade, iv. , n. ; potter's translation, iii. . _àsop at play_, iii. . affairs, managing one's, iv. . affectation, distress, of, iv. ; dying, in, v. ; familiarity with the great, of, iv. ; rant of a parent, iii. ; silence and talkativeness, iii. ; studied behaviour, i. ; bursts of admiration, iv. . see singularity. affection, descends, iii. ; natural, ii. ; iv. ; agamemnon, v. , , n. . agar, welbore ellis, iii. , n. . age, old. see old age. age, present, better than previous ones, ii. , n. ; except in reverence for government, iii. ; and authority, iii. ; not worse, iv. ; querulous declamations against, iii. . _agis_, home's, v. , n. . _agriculture, memoirs of_, by r. dossie, iv. . agutter, rev. william, iv. , n. , , n. , . aikin, miss. see barbauld, mrs. air, new kinds of, iv. . air-bath, iii. . ajaccio, i. , n. . akenside, mark, m.d., gray and mason, superior to, iii. ; _life_, by johnson, iv. ; medicine, defence of, iii. , n, ; _odes_, ii. ; _pleasures of the imagination_, i. ; ii. ; rolt's impudent claim, i. ; townshend, friendship with, iii. . akerman,--, keeper of newgate, boswell's esteemed friend, iii. ; courage at the gordon riots, and at an earlier fire, ib.; praised by burke and johnson, iii. ; profits of his office, iii. , n . mentioned, iii. . albemarle, lord, _memoirs of rockingham_, iii. ; v. , n. . alberti, leandro, ii. ; v. _albin and the daughter of mey_, v. . alchymy, ii. . _alciat's emblems_, ii. . n. . alcibiades, his dog, iii. ; alluded to by william scott, iii. . aldrich, dean, ii. , n. . aldrich, rev. s., i. , n. . aleppo, iii. ; iv. . alexander the great, i. ; ii. ; iv. . _alexandreis_, iv. , n. . alfred, _life_, i. ; will, iv. , n. . _alias_, iv. . alkerington, iv. , n. . _all for love_, iv. , n. . allen, edmund, the printer, dinner at his house, i. ; dodd, kindness to, iii. , ; johnson's birth-day dinners, at, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; imitated, iii. - ; iv. ; landlord and friend, iii. , ; letter from, iv. ; loan to, i. l , n. ; pretended brother, exposes, v. ; grieves at his death, iv. , , , , . _marshall's minutes of agriculture_, iii. ; smart's contract with gardner, ii. ; mentioned, iii. . allen, ralph, account of him, v. , n. ; warburton married his niece, ii. , n. . allen, h., of magdalen hall, i. . allen, ----, i. , n. . allestree, richard, ii. , n. . almack's, iii. , n. . almanac, history no better than an, ii. . almon's _memoirs of john wilkes_, i. , n. . _almost nothing_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . alms-giving, fielding, condemned by, ii. , n. , , n. ; johnson's practice, ii. ; _ib. n._ ; money generally wasted, iv. ; better laid out in luxury, iii. ; whigs, condemned by true, ii, . alnwick castle, johnson, visited by, iii. , n. ; pennant, described by, iii. - ; mentioned, iv. , n. . alonso the wise, ii. , n. . althorp, lord (second earl spencer), iii. . althorp, lord (third earl spencer), iii. , n. . ambassador, a foreign, iii. ; wotton's, sir h., definition, ii. , n. . ambition, iii. . _amelia. see_ fielding. amendments of a sentence, iv. . america; beresford, mrs., an american lady, iv. ; boston port bill, ii. , n. ; burgoyne's surrender, iii. , n. ; carolina library, i. , n. ; chesapeak, iv. , n. . city address to the king in , iv. , n. ; clinton, sir henry, iv. , n. ; concord, iii. , n. ; congress, ii. , , ; constitutional society, subscription raised by the, iii. , n. ; convict settlements, ii. , n. ; cornwallis's capitulation, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; discovery of, i. , n. ; ii. ; dominion lost, iv. , n. ; emigration to it an immersion in barbarism, v. : see emigration, and scotland, emigration; english opposition to the american war, iv. ; france, assistance from, iv. ; franklin's letter to w. strahan, iii. , n. : see dr. franklin; georgia, i. , n. , , n. ; v. ; hume's opinion of the war, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; independence, chimerical, i. , n. ; influence on mankind, i. , n. ; irish protestants well-wishers to the rebellion, iii. , n. ; johnson 'avoids the rebellious land,' iii. , n. ; feelings towards the americans, ii. - ; iii. - ; iv. ; calls them a 'race of convicts,' ii. ; 'wild rant,' ii. , n. ; iii. ; abuse, ; parody of _burke on american taxation_, iv. ; _patriot_, ii. ; relicks of, in america, ii. ; _taxation no tyranny_, ii. ; lee, arthur, agent in england, iii. , n. ; lexington, iii. , n. ; libels in , i. , n. ; life in the wilds, ii. ; literature gaining ground, i. , n. ; loudoun, lord, general in america, v. , n. ; mansfield, lord, approves of burning their houses, iii. , n. ; markham's, archbishop, sermon, v. , n. ; money sent to the english army, iv. ; new england, iv. , n. ; v. ; north's, lord, conciliatory propositions, iii. ; objects for observation, i. ; peace, negotiations of, iv. , n. ; preliminary treaty of, iv. , n. ; pennsylvania, ii. , n. ; philadelphia, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; planters, ii. ; population, growth of, ii. ; _rasselas_, reprint of, ii. ; saratoga, iii. , n. ; slavery, england guilty of, ii. ; susquehannah, v. ; taxation by england, ii. ; iii. - , ; iv. , n. ; virginia, ii. , n. ; ; war with america popular in scotland, iv. , n. ; war with the french in - , i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; walpole, horace, on the slaveholders, iii. , n. ; wesley's _calm address_, v. , n. ; york town, iv. , n. . amherst, lord, iii. , n. . amiens, ii. , n. . amory, dr. thomas, iii. , n. . amusements, key to character, iv. ; public, keep people from vice, ii. . amwell, ii. . amyat, dr., i. , n. . _ana_, v. , n. , . anacreon, baxter's edition, iv. , , ; v. ; mentioned, ii. . anaitis, the goddess, v. , , . _anatomy of melancholy_, ii. . ancestry, ii. , . ancient times worse than modern, iv. . ancients, not serious in religion, iii. . anderdon, j. l., iii. , n. . anderson, john, _nachrichten von island_, iii. , n. . anderson, professor, of glasgow, iii. ; v. , . andrews, francis, i. . _anecdote_, ii. , n. . anecdotes, johnson's love of, ii. ; v. . _anecdotes of distinguished persons_, iii. , n. . _anfractuosity_, iv. . angel, captain, i. . angell, john, _stenography_, ii. ; iii. . anger, unreasonable, but natural, ii. . animal, noblest, v. . animal substances, v. . animals. see brutes. _animus aequus_, not inheritable, v. . _animus irritandi_, iv. . _aningait and ajut_, iv. , n. . _annals of scotland_. see lord hailes. anne, queen, 'touches' johnson, i. ; grant to the synod of argyle, iii. ; writers of her age, i. . annihilation, hume's principle, iii. ; worse than existence in pain, - ; v. . annual register, barnard's verses on johnson, iv. - . anonymous writings, iii. . anson, lord, i. , n. ; iii. . anstey, christopher, _new bath guide_, i. , n. . anstruther, j., ii. , n. . _ant, the_, ii. . antagonists, how they should be treated, ii. ; v. . _anthologia_, johnson's translations, iv. . _anti-artemonius_, i. , n. . _antigallican_, i. . antimosaical remark, ii. . _antiquae linguae: britannicae thesaurus_, i. , n. . antiquarian researches, iii. , . antiquarian society, iv. . antiquarians, iii. . _apartment_, ii. , n. . apelles's venus, iv. . apicius, ii. . _apocrypha_, ii. , n. . _apollonii pugna belricia_, ii. . apollonius rhodius, i. . _apophthegms of johnson_, i. , n. ; iv. . apostolical ordination, ii. . _apotheosis of milton_, i. . apparitions. see spirits. _appeal to the publick_, etc. i. . appetite, riding for an, i. , n. . appius, in the _cato major_, iv. . applause, iv. . apple dumplings, ii. . appleby school, in leicestershire, i. , n. ; , n. . application, to one thing more than another, v. - . apprehensions. see fancies. arabic, iv. . arabs, v. . arbuthnot, dr. john, _dunciad_, annotations on the, iv. , n. ; _history of john bull_, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; illustrious physician, an, ii. ; _memoirs of martinus scriblerus_, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; universal genius, i. ; v. , n. ; superior to swift in coarse humour, v. . arbuthnot, robert, v. , . _archaeological dictionary_, iv. . archbishop, johnson's bow to an, iv. . arches, semicircular, and elliptical, i. l. architecture, ornamental, ii. . areskine, sir john, v. . argenson,--, ii. . argonauts, i. . arguing, good-humour in, iii. . argument, compared with testimony, iv. - ; getting the better of people in one, ii. ; opponent, introducing one's, ii. . argyle, first marquis of, v. , n. . argyle, ninth earl of, v. , n. . argyle, tenth earl (first duke) of, v. , n. . argyle, john, second duke of, _beggar's opera_, sees the, ii. , n. ; elwall, challenged by, ii. , n. ; walpole as sole minister, attacks, ii. , n. . argyle, archibald, third duke of, librarian, neglects his, i. ; a narrow man, v. ; wilkes visits him, iii. . argyle, john, fifth duke of, at ashbourne, iii. , n. ; boswell calls on him, v. - ; estates in col. v. ; tyr-yi, v. ; iona, v. ; gordon riots, rumour about him at the, iii. , n. ; johnson dines with him, v. - ; is provided by him with a horse, v. , ; corresponds with him, v. - ; lawsuit with sir a. maclean, ii. , n. ; iii. , . argyle, duchess of (in ), i. . argyle, elizabeth gunning, duchess of, account of her, v. , n. ; at ashbourne, iii. , n. ; dislikes boswell, v. ; slights him, v. , - ; he drinks to her, v. ; johnson undertakes to get her a book, v. , ; is 'all attention' to her, v. , ; calls her 'a duchess with three tails', v. . arian heresy, iv. . ariosto, i. ; v. , n. . aristotle, barrow, quoted by, iv. , n. ; difference between the learned and unlearned, iv. ; friendship, on, iii. , n. ; lydiat, attacked by, i. , n. ; lying, on, ii. , n. ; purging of the passions, iii. . arithmetic, johnson's fondness for it, i. ; iv. , n. , ; principles soon comprehended, v. , n. . arkwright, richard, ii. , n. . armorial bearings, ii. . arms, piling, iii. . armstrong, dr., iii. . army. see soldiers. arnauld, antoine, iii. . arne, dr., v. , n. . arnold, thomas, m.d., _observations on insanity_, iii. , n. . arran, earl of, i. . arrighi, a., _histoire de pascal paoli_, ii. , n. i; v. , n. . _art of living in london_, i. , n. . 'art's corrective,' v. . artemisia, ii. . arthritick tyranny, i. . articles. see thirty-nine articles. artificially, iii. , n. . artists, society of. see society of artists. _ascertain_, iii. , n. . ascham, roger, bachelor's degree, takes his, i. , n. ; _life_ by johnson, i. ; quoted, i. , n. . ash, dr., iv. , n. . ashbourne, church, iii. ; earthquake, iii. ; green man inn, iii. ; johnson's visits, iii. - ; and the thrales visit it in , v. ; and boswell in , ii. - ; in , iii. - ; school, ii. , n. ; iii. ; two convicts of the town hang themselves, iv. ; water-fall, iii. . ashby, i. , n. , , n. . ashmole, elias, iii. ; iv. , n. . asiatic society, ii. , n. . assent, a debt or a favour, iv. . assyrians, ii. ; iii. . astle, rev. mr., iv. . astle, thomas, letter from johnson, iv. ; mentioned, i. ; iv. . astley, the equestrian, iii. . astocke, i. , n. . aston, catherine (hon. mrs. henry hervey), i. , n. . aston, margaret (mrs. walmsley), i. , n. ; ii. . aston, miss (mrs.), ii. , ; iii. , , , ; iv. , n. . aston, 'molly' (mrs. brodie), account of her, i. ; ii. ; interest of money, on the, iii. - ; johnson's epigram on her, i. , n. ; , n. ; iii. , n. ; her letters to, iii. , n. ; quoted by, iii. , n. ; lyttelton, lord, preference for, iv. . aston, sir thomas, i. , , n. . aston hall, ii. , n. . atheism, v. . _athelstan_, ii. , n. . _athenoeum, the_, boswell's letters of acceptance as secretary of the royal academy, iii. , n. ; mistake in forster's _goldsmith_, ii. , n. . _athenian letters_, i. , n. . athenians, barbarians, ii. ; brutes, . athol, earl of, ii. ; family of, v. . _athol porridge_, iv. . atlantic, johnson on the, v. . atonement, the, v. . attacks on authors; attack is the reaction, ii. better to be attacked than unnoticed, iii. v. part of a man's consequence, iv. 'fame is a shuttlecock,' v. very rarely hurt an author, iii. useful, in subjects of taste, v. felt by authors, ib. n. addison, hume, swift, young on them, ii. , n. bentley, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; boerhaave, ii. , n. fielding, v. , n. _rambler, vicar of wakefield_, hume, and boileau, iii. , n. johnson's solitary reply to one, i. ; ii. , ib. n. . atterbury, bishop, elegance of his english, ii. , n. _funeral sermon on lady cutts_, ii. _sermons_, iii. mentioned, i. . attorney-general, _diabolus regis_, iii. . attorneys converted into solicitors, iv. , n. johnson's hits at them, ii. , ib. n. ; iv. . auchinleck, lord, account of him, v. - , , n. baxter's _anacreon_, collated, iv. attentive to remotest relations, v. boswell's ignorance of law, ii. , n. ; v. , n. boswell, his disposition towards: see boswell, father contentment, iii. ; v. death, iv. 'in a place where there is no room for whiggism,' v. described in a _hypochondriack_, i. , n. douglas cause, ii. , n. entails his estate in perpetuity, ii. - gillespie, dr., _honorarium_ to, iv. heirs general, preference for, ii. - calls johnson a dominie, i. , n. ; v. , n. a jacobite fellow, v. _ursa major_, v. a brute, ii. , n. ; v. , n. proposes to send him the _lives_, iii. visits him, v. - three topics in which they differ, v. contest, v. - polite parting, v. knight the negro's case, iii. laird of lochbury, trial of the, v. loves labour, ii. ; planter of trees, iii. ; v. respected, v. , , second wife, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; boswell on ill terms with her, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. tenderness, want of, iii. windows broken by a mob, v. , n. mentioned, ii. , , , ; iii. . auchinleck place. see scotland, auchinleck. auctioneers, long pole at their door, ii. . augustan age, flattery, ii. . augustus, ii. , . aulus gellius, v. . ausonius, i. ; ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . austen, miss, _pride and prejudice_, iii. , n. . austerities, religious. see monastery. austria, house of, epigram on it, v. . auteroche, chappe d', iii. . author, an, of considerable eminence, iv. one of restless vanity, iv. who married a printer's devil, iv. who was a voluminous rascal, ii. . authority, from personal respect, ii. lessened, iii. . authors, attacks on them; see attacks; best part of them in their books, i. , n. ; chief glory of a people from them, i. , n. ; ii. ; complaints of, iv. ; contrast between their life and writings, ii. , n. ; consolation in their hours of gloom, ii. , n. ; dread of them, i. , n. ; eminent men need not turn authors, iii. ; fit subjects for biography, iv. , n. ; flatter the age, v. ; hunted with a cannister at their tail, iii. ; johnson consulted by them 'a man who wrote verses,' ii. ; colley cibber, ii. ; 'a lank and reverend bard,' iii. ' crabbe, iv. , n. ; a tragedy-writer, iv. , n. ; young mr. tytler, v. ; advises to print boldly, ii. ; advice very difficult to give, iii. ; willing to assist them, iii. , n. ; iv. ; v. ; put to the torture, ib. _project for the employment of authors_, i. , n. ; wonders at their number, v. ; judgment of their own works, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; language characteristical, iv. ; lie, whether ever allowed to, iv. - ; modern, the moons of literature, iii. ; obscure ones, i. , n. ; patrons, iv. ; patronage done with, v. ; payments received: _adventurer_, two guineas a paper, i. ; baretti, translation of some of reynolds's _discourses_ into italian, twenty-five guineas, iii. ; blair, _sermons_, vol. i, £ , vol. ii. £ , vol. iii. £ , iii. ; boswell, _corsica_, guineas, ii. , n. ; _critical review_, two guineas a sheet, iv. , n. ; _monthly_, sometimes four guineas, ib.; fielding, _tom jones_, £ , i. , n. ; goldsmith, _vicar of wakefield_, £ , i. ; _traveller_, £ , ib., n. ; hawkesworth, £ for editing _cook's voyages_, i. , n. ; hill, sir john, fifteen guineas a week, ii. , n. ; hooke, £ for the duchess of marlborough's _apology_, v. , n. ; johnson: see johnson, payments for his writings; payment by line, i. , n. ; piozzi, mrs., for johnson's letters, £ , ii. , n. ; robertson offered £ for one edition of his _history of scotland_, iii. , n. ; £ made by the publishers; offered guineas for _charles v_, ii. , n. ; sacheverell, £ for a sermon, i. , n. ; shebbeare six guineas for a sheet for reviews, iv. ; savage, _wanderer_, ten guineas, i. , n. ; whitehead, paul, ten guineas for a poem, i. ; pleasure in writing for the journals, v. , n. ; privateers, like, iv. , n. ; private life, in, i. ; public, the, their judges, i. ; putting into a book as much as a book will hold, ii. ; regard for their first magazine, i. ; reluctance to write their own lives, i. , n. ; respect due to them, iii. ; iv. ; sale of their works to the booksellers, iii. - ; styles, distinguished by their, iii. ; treatment by managers of theatres, i. , n. ; writing for profit, iii. ; on subjects in which they have not practised, ii. . _authors by profession_, i. . avarice, despised not hated, iii. not inherent, iii. . avenues, v. . averroes, i. , n. . avignon, iii. . aylesbury, lady, iii. , n. . b. b--d, mr., johnson's letter to, ii, . baby, johnson as nurse to one newborn, ii. . babylon, i. . bach, ii. , n. . bacon, francis, _advancement of learning_, i. , n. ; argument and testimony, on, iv. ; conversation, precept for, iv. ; death, the stroke of, ii. , n. ; delight in superiority natural, iv. , n. ; _essays_ estimated by burke and johnson, iii. , n. ; _essay of truth_ quoted, iv. , n. ; _essay on vicissitude_, v. , n. ; healthy old man like a tower undermined, iv. ; _history of henry vii._, v. ; introduction of new doctrines, on the, iii. , n. ; johnson intends to edit his works, iii. ; 'kings desire the end, but not the means,' v. , n. ; _life_ by mallet, iii. ; 'roughness breedeth hate,' iv. , n. ; sanquhar's trial, v. , n. ; style, i. ; turks, their want of _stirpes_, ii. ; 'who then to frail mortality,' &c., v. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , . bacon, john, r.a., johnson's monument, iv. , . badcock, rev. samuel, anecdotes of johnson, iv. , n. ; white's _bampton lectures_, iv. , n. . badenoch, lord of, v. . bagshaw, rev. thomas, johnson's letters to him, ii. , n. ; iv. . bailey, nathan, v. . baily, hetty, iv. . baker, sir george, iv. , n. , . baker, ----, an engraver, iv. , n. . baker, mrs., ii. . _bakers biographia dramatica_, iv. , n. . _baker's chronicle_, v. . baldwin, henry, the printer, i. , ; ii. , n. ; iv. ; v. , n. . balfour, john, v. , n. . baliol, john, v. . ballads, modern imitations ridiculed, ii. . ballantyne, messrs., v. , n. . ballinacrazy, a young man of, iii. . balloons, account of them, iv. , n. ; failure of one, iv. - ; first ascent, iv. , n. ; mere amusement, iv. ; one burnt, ib.; paying for seats, iv. ; wings, ib.; 'do not write about the balloon,' iv. ; at oxford, iv. . ballow, henry, a lawyer, iii. . balmerino, lord, i. ; v. , n. . balmuto, lord, v. , n. . baltic, johnson's projected tour, ii. , n. ; iii. , . baltimore, lord, iii. , n. . bambaloes, v. , n. . bancroft, bishop, i. . banks, sir joseph, admires johnson's description of iona, iii. , n, ; v. n. ; letter to him, and motto for his goat, ii. ; funeral, at, iv. ; literary club, i. ; iii. , ; proposed expedition, ii. , ; iii. ; accompanies captain cook, v. , n. , , n. ; account of otaheite, v. . banks, ----, of dorsetshire, i. . baptism, by immersion, i. , n. ; sprinkling, iv. ; barclay's _apology_ on it, ii. . bar. see law _and_ lawyers. barbadoes, iv. . _barbarossa_, ii. , n. . barbarous society, i. . barbauld, mrs., boswell, lines on, ii. , n. ; _eighteen hundred and eleven_, ii. , n. ; genius and learning, on the want of respect to, iv. , n. ; johnson's style, imitation of, iii. ; _lessons for children_, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; marriage and school, ii. ; pupils, ib., n. ; priestley, lines, on, iv. ; richardson not sought by 'the great,' iv. , n. . barber, francis, account of him, i. , n. ; johnson's bequest to him, ii. , n. ; iv. , , , n. , ; death-bed, iv. , n. , ; devotion to, iv. , n. ; _diary_, has fragments of, i. ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; letters from: see johnson, letters; prays with him, iv. ; instructs him in religion, ii. ; iv. ; recommends him to windham, iv. , n. ; sends him to school, ii. , , ; state after his wife's death, describes, i. ; langton, visits, i. , n. ; lichfield, retires to, iv. , n. ; sea, at, i. ; returns to service, i. ; mentioned, i. , ; ii. , , , , ; iii. , , , , , , , ; iv. , ; v. . barber, mrs. francis, i. ; v. , n. . barbeyrac, i. . barclay, alexander, i. . barclay, james, an oxford student, i. ; v. . barclay, robert, of ury, ancestor of barclay the brewer, iv. , n. ; _apology for the quakers_, in paoli's library, ii. , n. ; on infant baptism, ii. . barclay, robert, the brewer, account of him, iv. , n. i; anecdote of boswell's tablets, i. , n. ; buys thrale's brewery, iv. , n. ; holds money of johnson's, iv. , n. . bard, a reverend, iii. . baretti, joseph, account of him, i. ; iii. , n. ; barber's devotion to johnson, describes, iv. , n. ; boswell, dislikes, ii. , n. ; v. ; calls not quite right-headed, iii. , n. ; _carmen sectilare_, adapts the, iii. ; character by mrs. piozzi, ii. , n. ; at his trial, ii. , n. ; by miss burney and malone, iii. , n. ; conversation, ii. ; copy-money in italy, on, iii. ; davies, quarrel with, ii. ; _dialogues_, ii. ; ducking-stool, describes a, iii. , n. ; _easy lessons in italian and english_, ii. ; english love of melted butter and roast veal, i. , n. ; fees in england, on, v. , n. ; foote's conversations, describes, iii. , n. ; 'french not a cheerful race,' ii. , n. ; french prisoners, i. , n. ; foreigners in london, i. , n. ; _frusta letteraria_, iii. ; hatred of mankind, ii. ; infidelity, ii. ; _italian and english dictionary_, i, ; italy, revisits, i. ; ii. , n. ; _italy, account of the manners and customs of_, ii. ; johnson, calls him a bear, ii. ; charity, i. , n. ; and mr. cholmondeley, iv. , n. ; delight in old acquaintance, iv. , n. ; in france, ii. , n. ; habit of musing, v. , n. ; ignorance of character, v. , n. ; letters from, i. , , ; memory, iii. l , n. ; v. , n. ; payment for _rasselas_, i. , n. ; prejudice against foreigners, iv. , n. ; and 'presto's supper,' iv. ; and mrs. salusbury, ii. , n. ; trade was wisdom, iii. , n. ; verse-making, ii. , n. ; want of toleration, ii. , n. ; want of observation, iii. , n. ; _journey from london to genoa,_ i. , n. , , n. ; languages, knowledge of, i. - ; ii. ; london, love of, i. , n. ; madrid in , v. , n. ; _misella's story,_ i. , n. ; newgate, in, ii. , n. ; _pater noster_, ignorance about the, v. , n. ; piozzi, mrs., attacked by, iii. , n. , , n. ; his brutal attack on her, iii. , n. , , n. ; portrait at streatham, iv. , n. ; _rasselas_, translates, ii. , n. ; reynolds's _discourses_, translates, iii. ; robbers, never met any, iii. , n. ; royal academy, secretary for foreign correspondence to the, ii. , n. ; _spectator_, effect of reading a, iv. ; thrales, projected tour to italy with the, iii. , , n. , , n. ; accompanies them to bath, iii. ; hopes for an annuity from them, iii. , n. ; money payments from them, ib., ; quarrels with them, iii. ; apparent reconciliation, ib., n. ; thrale's, mr., grief for his son's death, describes, iii. ; his appetite, iii. , n. ; thrale, mrs., flatters, iii. , n. ; mentions her echo of johnson's 'beastly kind of wit,' ii. , n. ; _tolondron_, iv. , n. ; _travels through spain_, i. , n. ; tried for murder, ii. , - ; consultation for the defence, iv. ; williams, mrs., describes, ii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , , , . barker's bible, v. . barnard, rev. dr., dean of derry, afterwards bishop of killaloe, arbitrary power, in favour of, iii. , n. ; johnson's charade on him, iv. ; double-edged wit, ii. ; draws up a round-robin to, iii. ; and garrick coming up to london, i. , n. ; regard for him, iv. ; writes verses on, iv. , n. , - ; kept his countenance, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; presents it with a hogshead of claret, iii. ; twalmley and virgil, iv. ; wilkes, sarcasm on, iv. , n. . barnard, dr. (provost of eton), account of him, iii. , n. ; johnson at mr. vesey's, meets, iii. - , ib., n. ; breeding, does justice to, iii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. . barnard, francis, king's librarian, ii. , ; johnson's letter to him, . n. . barnard, sir john, i. . barnes, joshua, attacked by baxter, w., v. ; dedication to the duke of marlborough, v. , n. ; greek, knowledge of, iv. ; homer and solomon identified, iv. , n. ; maccaronic verses, iii. . barnet, iii. ; v. . barnewall, nicholas, iii. , n. . barnston, miss letitia, iii. , n. . baron, 'the baron and the barrister united,' iii. , n. . baronet, story of a, v. . baronets, _regular_, v. , n. . barret, william, the bristol surgeon, iii. . barretier, philip, education, his, ii. , n. ; johnson, resemblance to, i. , n. ; _life_, by johnson, i. , , n. ; _additions to the life_, i. ; republished, i. . barrington, hon. daines, _essay on the migration of birds_, ii. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , ; johnson seeks his acquaintance, iii. ; observations on the statutes, iii. ; mentioned, iv. . barrington, lord, v. , n. . barristers. see lawyers. barrow, dr., iv. , n. . barrowby, dr., iv. . barry, sir edward, m.d., _system of physic_, iii. . barry, james, the painter,--burke, william, letter from, ii. , n. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , ; french with the irish, contrasts the, ii. , n. ; johnson, compliments, iv. , n. ; letter from, iv. ; praises his pictures, iv. ; reynolds, quarrels with, iv. ; women, on the employment of, ii. , n. . barry, spranger, the actor, i. , n. , ; ii. , n. . barter,--, a miller, ii. . bartolozzi, francis, iii. ; iv. , n. . barton in yorkshire, i. , n. . barton, mr. a. t., fellow of pembroke college, v. , n. . _bas bleu_, iii. , n. ; iv. . baskerville, john, _barclay's apology_, edition of, ii. ; _virgil_, ii. . _bastard, the_, i. . bastia, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . bat, formation of the, iii. . bate, rev. henry (sir h. dudley), account of him, iv. . bate, james, i. , n. . bateman, edmund, tutor of christ church, i. . bath, account of it, iii. , n. . boswell and johnson visit it in , iii. ; epigram on a religious dispute held there, iv. , n. ; goldsmith visits it, ii. ; gordon riots, suffers from the, iii. , n. , , n. ; harington, dr., iv. ; 'king of bath,' i. , n. , ; lectures, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; miller, lady, ii. ; musical lessons, price of, iii. ; paoli visits it, v. , n. ; smoking in the rooms, v. , n. ; thrale family visits it in , iii. ; in , iii. ; mrs. piozzi in , v. , n. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. . bath, william pulteney, earl of, his oratory, i. ; a paltry fellow, v. ; 'pulnub' and 'hon. marcus cato,' i. ; williams's, sir c. h., lines on him, v. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . batheaston villa, ii. . bathiani, ii. . baths, cold, i. , n. ; medicated, ii. . bathurst, colonel, i. , n. . bathurst, dr., account of him, i. , , n. ; _adventurer_, wrote for the, i. , , ; barber, f., his father's slave, i. , n. ; company of a new person, on the, iv. ; death, i. , n. , ; 'hater, a very good,' i. , n. ; johnson, letters to, i. , n. ; 'recommended' by, i. , n. ; medical practice, i. , n. ; on slavery, iv. ; mentioned, i. . bathurst, first earl, pope's friend, iii. ; iv. ; account of pope's _essay on man_, iii. - ; speeches, i. , . bathurst, second earl, lord chancellor; dodd, dr., attempts to bribe him, iii. , n. ; writes to him, iii. . bathurst, lady, iii. , n. . bathurst, ralph, verses to hobbes, iv. , n. . _batrachomyomachia_, v. . batrachus, iv. . battie, dr., iv. , n. . battista angeloni (dr. shebbeare), iv. . battles, fighting, for a man, ii. . battologia, v. . _baudius on erasmus_, v. . _baviad and maeviad_, iii. , n. . baxter, andrew, v. , n. . baxter, rev. richard, _call to the unconverted_, iv. ; johnson praises all his books, iv. ; kidderminster, sermon at, iv. , n. ; _reasons of the christian religion_, iv. ; rule of preaching, iv. ; scruple, troubled by a, ii. ; suicide, on the salvation of a, iv. ; toleration, on, ii. ; mentioned, i. ; v. . baxter, william, _anacreon_. see anacreon. barnes, the antagonist of, v. ; _horace_, edition of, iii. , n. . 'bayes,' character of, ii. ; iii. . bayle, confutation of him by leibnitz, v. ; his _dictionary_, i. ; _life_, by des maizeaux, i. , n. ; menage, his account of, iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. . beach, thomas, ii. , n. . beaconsfield, johnson visits it in , ii. , n. ; v. ; mackintosh visits it in , iv. , n. . bear., see johnson, bear. bear-garden 'bruisers,' i. , n. . bearcroft,--, a barrister, iii. , n. . beaton, cardinal, v. . beaton, rev. mr., v. . beattie, dr. james, complains of boswell, v. , n. ; correspondence with him, ii. , n. ; v. - ; burns, praised by, v. , n. ; 'caressed by the great,' ii. ; conversation, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; english, describes a scotchman's study of, i. , n. ; english and scotch universities compared, v. , n. ; _essay on truth_, editions and translations, ii. , n. ; a thing of the past, v. , n. ; goldsmith's opinion of it, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; johnson's opinion of it, ii. , ; v. ; forbes, _life_ by, v. , n. ; gray, visited by, v. ; hackney coaches, no. and no. , sees, iv. ; _hermit_, iv. ; hume, controversy with: see above, _essay on truth_; johnson's _dictionary_, cited in, iv. , n. ; gentler manner, speaks of, iv. , n. ; letter from, iii. ; praise of hannah more, iii. , n. ; regard for him, ii. , ; his love of--, iii. , n. ; use of wine, i. , n. ; visits, ii. , n. , , , ; v. ; monboddo's hatred of johnson, iv. , n. ; _ode on lord hay_, v. ; _original principles_, his, i. ; oxford degree of d.c.l., ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; pension, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , ; professor at aberdeen, ii. , ; v. ; reynolds's allegorical picture of him, v. , n. , , n. ; robertson, compared with, ii. , n. ; thrale's bequest to johnson, on, iv. , n. ; warburton and strahan, anecdote of, v. , n. ; wilkes, meets, iv. ; wine, indulges in, iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. , , , - ; iii. , ; iv. . beattie, mrs., ii. , . beauclerk, hon. topham, account of him by boswell and johnson, i. ; burke, ii. , n. ; johnson, iii. , ; langton, ib.; absent-minded, i. , n. ; adelphi, 'box' at the, ii. , n. ; addison's _remarks on italy_, ii. ; adultery, his, with lady bolingbroke whom he afterwards married, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; baretti and johnson's projected italian tour, iii. ; baretti's trial, ii. , n. , ; 'beau,' name of, ii. ; '_bear_, like a word in a catch,' ii. ; boswell an unnatural scotchman, calls, iii. ; zealous for his election to the literary club, ii. ; v. ; charles ii, descended from, i. ; iii. , n. ; chemistry, love of, i. ; children, his, iii. ; conversation, i. ; iii. , ; iv. ; v. ; little affected by his travels, iii. , , ; cumberland's _odes_, iii. , n. ; davies, tom, clapping a man on the back, ii. ; death, iii. , ; dinners and suppers at his house, ii. . , , n. ; iii. , ; facility, wonderful, iii. ; 'frisk,' his, i. ; gambling at venice, i. , n. ; gaming-club, account of a, iii. ; garrick's portrait, inscription on, iv. ; goldsmith and malagrida, iv. , n. ; health, his, ii. , ; iii. , ; italy, tour to, i. , ; johnson, first acquaintance with, i. ; accompanies to cambridge, i. ; affection for him, iv. , , ; altercations with, iii. , ; reconciliation, iii. ; and mme. de boufflers, ii. ; 'coalition' with, i. ; dress as a dramatic author, i. , n. : and thomas hervey, ii. ; and a mr. hervey, iii. - , - ; jacobitism, i. ; levee, attends, ii. ; marriage, i. ; pension, saying about, i. ; portrait, inscription on, iv. ; and the two dogs, ii. ; v. ; use of orange peel, ii. ; visits him at windsor, i. ; johnson's court, veneration for, ii. ; laboratory, his, ii. , n. ; library, his, ii. , n. ; sold, iii. , n. ; iv. ; sermons in it, ib.; _lilliburlero_, effect of, ii. ; literary club, original member of the, i. , , n. ; describes it, ii. , n. , , n. ; manner, his, acid, ii. , n. ; lively, ii. ; iii. ; montagu's, mrs., _essay_, could not read, v. ; mother, his, iii. ; v. ; muswell hill, house at, ii. , n. ; pope's lines on foster, mentioned, iv. ; predominance over his company, iii. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; same one day as another, iii. ; satire, love of, i. ; 'see him again,' iv. ; smith's, adam, talk, iv. , n. ; spence's _anecdotes of pope_, iv. ; story, mode of telling a, iii. ; thrale, mrs., hated by, i. , n. ; truthfulness, his, v. , n. ; wife, treatment of his, ii. , n. ; mentioned, i. ; ii. , ; iii. , n. ; iv. , , n. , , ; v. , . beauclerk, lady diana, wife of topham beauclerk, account of her, ii. , n. ; boswell's 'apology' for her, ii. ; bet with her, ii. ; charming conversation, ii. ; langton's height, joke about, i. , n. ; gives him johnson's portrait, iv. ; nurses her husband with assiduity; ii. ; left guardian of his children, iii. . beauclerk, lord sidney, topham beauclerk's father, i. , n. . beauclerk, lady sydney, v. . beaufort, duchess of (in ), iii. . beaumont, francis, i. , n. . beaumont and fletcher, co-operation, their literary, ii. ; garrick's adaptation of _the chances_, ii. , n. ; seward's edition of their plays, ii. . _beauties of johnson_, iv. - , , n. . _beauties of the rambler_, i. . beauty, independent of utility, ii. ; iv. . beaux stratagem, archer quoted, v. , n. ; acted by garrick, iii. ; boniface praises his ale, ii. ; is done good to by latin, iii. , n. ; scrub, iii. . beckenham, iv. . becket, t., the bookseller, ii. . beckford, alderman, account of him, iii. , n. ; chatterton's gain by his death, iii. , n. ; his english, iii. , ; lord mayor, iii. ; monument in guildhall, iii. . bedford, iv. . bedford, fourth duke of, attack on the ministry in , iv. ; vails, tries to abolish, ii. , n. ; vice-roy in ireland, ii. , n. . bedford, fifth duke of, iii. ; iv. . bedford, hilkiah, iv. , n. . bedfordshire, militia, i. , n. ; iii. . bedlam, boswell and johnson visit it, ii. ; curiosities of london, one of the, ii. , n. ; houses built near it, iv. . beer, allowance of, to servants and soldiers, iii. , n. . _beggar's opera. see_ gay, john. beggars, beg more readily from men than women, iv. ; english compared with scotch, v. , n. ; many in want of work, iii. ; their trade overstocked, iii. ; mentioned, iii. . see almsgiving. behmen, jacob, ii. . belchier, john, the surgeon, iii. . belgrade, siege of, ii. . belief, attacks on it, iii. it; v. , n. . bell, dr., iv. , n. . bell, rev. dr., ii. , n. . bell, rev. mr., of strathaven, iii. . bell, mrs., johnson's epitaph on her, ii. , n. . bell, john, _travels_, ii. . bell, john, the bookseller, _lives of the poets_, ii. , n. ; iii. . bellamy, mrs., acts in dodsley's _cleone_, i. , n. , ; johnson, letter to, iv. , n. . belleisle, iii. , n. . belleisle, the, a man-of-war, i. , n. . _bellerophon_, i. , n. . belsham, william, _essay on dramatic poetry_, i. , n. . bembridge,--, iv. , n. . benedictines. see paris, benedictines. _benefit, free_, v. . benevolence, motive to action, iii. : mingled with vanity, ib. benevolists, the, iii. , n. . bengal, iii. , n. , , . bennet, james, editor of ascham's _works_, i. . bensley, robert, the actor, ii. . benson, william, his monument to milton, i. , n. ; v. , n. . bentham, dr. e., ii. . bentham, jeremy, on convict-labour, iii. , n. ; shelburne's, lord, wretched education, iii. , n. ; fearlessness as a minister, iv. , n. . bentley, dr., attacks, never answered, ii. , n. ; v. ; barnes's greek, iv. , n. ; boyle, attacked by, v. , n. ; cunninghame, criticised by, v. ; _epistles of phalaris_, iv. ; _horace, comments on_, ii. ; iii. , n. ; johnson, celebrated by, i. , n. ; v. ; 'no man written down but by himself,' i. , n. ; v. ; pope and homer, iii. , n. ; preface to his edition of _paradise lost_, iv. , n. ; scholarship perhaps unequalled, iv. ; scotchman, not a, ii. , n. ; studied hard, i. ; iv. ; v. ; verses, his, iv. ; wasse's _greek trochaics_, v. . bentley, richard, junior, iv. , n. . beresford, mrs. and miss, iv. - . beresford, rev. mr., iii. . berkeley, bishop, burke's projected answer to his theory, i. ; non-existence of matter, on the, i. ; iv. ; profound scholar, ii. ; 'reverie,' his, iii. ; warburton's ignorant criticism on him, v. , n. . berrenger, richard, iv. , . berwick, ii. . berwick, duke of, memoirs, iii. . besborough, earl of, v. . best, h. d., gibbon and the duke of gloucester, ii. , n. ; george langton, and his pedigree, i. , n. ; johnson's visit to langton, i. , n. . bethune, rev. mr., v. . betterton, thomas, iii. . bettesworth, rev. e., i. , n. . bettesworth, sergeant, iii. , n. . _betty broom_, iv. . bewley, william, the philosopher of massingham, iv. . beza, ii. . bias the philosopher, iii. , n. . bible, the, calculation for reading it in a year, i. , n. ; johnson reads it through, ii. , n. ; should be read with a commentary, iii. ; subscribing it instead of the articles, ii. . _bibliopole_, ii. . _bibliotheca harleiana_, i. . _bibliotheca literaria_, v. . _bibliothèque, johnson's scheme of a, i. - . _bibl. des fées_, ii. . _bibliothèque des savans_, i. . bickerstaff, isaac, _account of him_, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . bicknell, j. l., i. . _big_, johnson's use of the word, iii. ; v. . _big man_, ii. . bigamy, v. . _bills_, i. . bindley, james, i. . binning, lord, ii. ; iii. . _biographia britannica_, first edition, iv. , n. ; dr. john campbell a contributor, ii. ; johnson asked to edit a new edition, iii. ; edited by kippis, ib.; account of it, ib. n. . biographical catechism, iv. . biography, authentic material difficult to get, iii. ; best when autobiography, i. ; can be written only by a man's intimates, ii. , ; iii. , n. ; goldsmith's praise of it, v. , n. ; johnson's excellence in it, i. ; iv. , n. ; fondness for it, i. ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; v. ; literary, ii. ; v. ; method of writing it, i. ; men should be drawn as they are, i. ; iv. , ; v. ; 'common cant' against it, iii. , n. ; minute particulars to be given, i. ; and peculiarities, iii. ; rarely well executed, ii. ; vices, how far to be mentioned, iii. ; writing trifles with dignity, iv. , n. . birch, rev. thomas, d.d., account of him by h. walpole, i. , n. ; by i. d'israeli, i. , n. ; anecdotes, full of, v. ; conversation and writings, i. ; correspondence with mrs. carter, i. ; cave, i. , - ; johnson, i. , , ; earl of orrery, i. ; _history of the royal society_, i. ; ii. , n. ; johnson's epigram to him, i. ; raleigh's smaller pieces, edits, i. ; _rambler_, anecdote of the, i. , n. ; society for the encouragement of learning, member of the, i. , n. . birds, migration of, ii. ; nidification, . birkenhead, sir john, v. , n. . birmingham,--_birmingham journal, i. , n. ; _birmingham daily post_, i. , n. ; 'boobies of birmingham,' ii. ; book-shops, i. , , n. ; buttons, v. ; castle inn, i. , n. ; cost of living in , i. , n. ; _directory_ for , v. , n. ; edinburgh, likeness to, v. , n. ; hector's house, ii. , n. ; in , i. , n. ; johnson's head on copper coins, iv. , n. ; reads _the history of birmingham_, iv. , n. ; resides there, i. - , - ; visits it in - , i. , n. ; in , v. ; in with boswell, ii. ; in , iv. ; in , iv. ; jealousy of the manufacturers, ii. , n. ; old square, ii. , n. ; rapid growth of population, iii. ; riots of , i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; soho, ii. ; st. martin's church, i. , n. ; stork hotel, ii. , n. ; swan tavern, i. , n. . birnam-wood, iii. . birth, respect for. see under boswell and johnson. _bis dat qui cito dat_, ii. , n. . biscay, language of, i. . bishop, contradicting one, iv. ; house of lords, in the, ii. ; how made, ii. ; v. ; johnson dines with two bishops in passion week, iv. - ; learning, their, iv. ; dulness, ib. n. ; liberties taken in their presence, iv. ; losses and gain by preferment, iv. , n. ; 'necessity of holding preferments _in commendam_,' iv. , n. ; 'seven bishops,' iv. ; tippling-house, at a, iv. ; a rout, ib. see hierarchy. _bishop_, a bowl of, i. . bishop stortford, ii. . bishopric, resignation of a, iii. , n. . bismarck, prince, iv. , n. . black, why part of mankind is, i. . _black dog, the_, iii. . black-guards, and red-guards, ii. , . black-letter books, ii. . blacket, sir thomas, v. , n. . blackie's _etymological geography_, v. , n. . blacklock, dr., blindness and poetry, i. ; hume, extolled by, iv. , n. ; tutor to his nephew, v. , n. ; johnson, meets, v. ; talks of scepticism, ib.; letter in explanation, v. ; _poems_, quotation from his, i. ; mentioned, v. . blackmore, sir richard, attorney, son of an, ii. , n. ; teaches a school, i. , n. ; _creation_, his, ii. ; honoured too much by attacks, ii. ; johnson adds him to the _lives_, iii. ; iv. , n. , - ; describes himself in the _life_, iv. ; saves him from the critics, ib., n. ; _literary club of lay monks_, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; supposed lines on prince voltiger, ii. ; swift, ridiculed by, iv. , n. . blackstone, sir william, _borough english_, v. ; _commentaries_ written when he had little practice, ii. ; composed with the help of port wine, iv. ; crown revenues, ii. ; n. ; hackman's trial, iii. ; hawkins's _siege of aleppo_, approves of, iii. ; house of hanover, right of the, v. ; legal succession, ii. , n. ; pembroke college, member of, i. ; portrait in the bodleian, iv. , n. ; _stultifying_ oneself, v. , n. . blackwall, anthony, i. ; iv. , , n. . blackwell, thomas, _memoirs of the court of augustus_, i. , . blackwell, dr., a physician, i. , n. . blagden, dr., iv. . blainville, h., ii. . blair, rev. dr. hugh, boswell, letter to, iii. ; boswell's lowing like a cow, v. ; composed slowly, v. ; conversation, his, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; _dissertation on ossian_, i. ; ii. , , n. ; iii. ; johnson, in awe of, ii. ; 'den,' i. ; misunderstanding with, ii. , ; record of a talk with, v. ; johnsonian style, remarks on the, iii. ; _lectures on rhetoric_, iii. ; pope, anecdotes of, iii. - ; preached in a shamefully dirty church, v. ; 'scotchman, though the dog is a,' &c., iv. ; _sermons_, publication, iii. ; price paid, iii. ; popularity, iii. , n. , ; johnson praises them, iii. , , , , ; iv. ; but criticises the _sermon on devotion_, iii. ; whist, learns, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; v. , . blair, rev. dr. john, iii. . blair, rev. robert, iii. , n. . blair, robert, solicitor-general of scotland, iii. , n. . _blake, life of_, i. , n. . blakesley, dean, iv. , n. . blakeway, rev. j., i. . blanchard, ----, iv. , n. . blanchetti, marquis, ii. . bland, j., i. , n. . blaney, mrs. elizabeth, i. ; iv. . blank verse, goldsmith and gray's estimate of it, i. , n. ; johnson's estimate of it, i. ; ii. ; iv. , - , ; 'verse only to the eye,' iv. ; described by a shepherd, ib., n. . blasphemy, property in, v. . bleeding, habit of, iii. , n. . blenheim park, johnson had not seen it by , v. ; and boswell visit it, ii. ; and the thrales, v. . blind, distinguishing colour by the touch, ii. . blockhead, churchill, applied to, i. ; fielding, ii. ; sterne, ib., n. ; woman, a, ii. . blois, i. , n. . 'blood,' johnson had no pretensions to it, ii. ; boswell's pride in it, v. . blount, martha, i. , n. . bloxam, rev. matthew, iii. . bluebeard, ii. . blue-stocking meetings, iii. , n. ; iv. ; v. , n. . boars, statues of, iii. . boccage, ----, ii. . boccage, mme. du, makes tea _à l'angloise_, ii. ; her _columbiade_, iv. ; mentioned by walpole and grimm, ib., n. . bodens, george, iii. , n. . bodleian library. see oxford. boerhaave, herman, attacks, never answered, ii. , n. ; executions, on, iv. , n. ; johnson, _life_ by, i. , , n. ; ii. ; resemblance to, iv. , n. ; sleepless nights, iv. , n. . boethius (hector bocce), favourite writer of the middle ages, ii. ; johnson translates some verses by him, i. ; tries to get his portrait, iv. . bohemia, iii. . bohemian language, ii. . bohemian servant, boswell's. see ritter, joseph. boileau, corrected by arnauld, iii. ; 'cultivez vos amis,' iv. ; despised modern latin poets, i. , n. ; _imitation of juvenal_, i. ; imitated by murphy, i. , n. ; 'le vainqueur des vanqueurs,' &c., i. , n. ; _life by desmaiseaux_, i. ; on the neglect of a book, iii. , w.i. bolingbroke, henry st. john, first viscount, burnet's _history of his own time_, ii. , n. ; booth's _cato_, v. , n. ; crown revenues, ii. , n. ; dictionary-makers, i. , n. ; english historians, ii. , n. ; garrick's _ode_, i. ; history to be read with suspicion, ii. , n. ; authorised romance, ii. , n. ; house of commons, describes the, iii. , n. ; johnson's attack on his fame, i. , ; leslie and bedford, iv. , n. ; mallet's edition of his _works_, i. , , n. ; oxford, lord, character of, iii. , n. ; patriot king, i. , n. ; pope, enmity against, i. ; _essay on man_, share in, iii. - ; executor, iv. ; friendship with, iv. , n. ; rome, references to, iii. , n. ; schools, v. , n. ; shelburne's (lord) character of him, i. , n. ; tories and jacobites, i. , n. ; _transpire_, iii. . bolingbroke, lady, iii. . bolingbroke, second viscount, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . bolingbroke, lady, divorced from the second viscount. see beauclerk, lady diana. bologna, ii. ; v. . bombay, v. , n. . _bon chretien_, v. , n. . _bon-mots_, instances of, iii. ; 'carrying' one, ii. . _bon ton_, ii. . bonaventura, i. . bond, mrs. iv. , n. . bones, uses of old, iv. ; johnson's horror at the sight of them, v. , . boniface in _the beaux stratagem_, ii. ; iii. , n. . bonner, bishop, i. , n. . bonnetta of londonderry, v. - . bonstetten, ----, v. , n. . _book of discipline_, ii. . book-binding, i. , n. . book-trade, ii. . books, abundance of modern, iii. ; death, leaving one's books at, iii. ; early printed ones, ii. ; v. ; every house supplied with them, iv. , n. ; getting boys to have entertainment from them, iii. ; high price, complaints of their, i. , n. ; johnson's letter on the book-trade, ii. ; knowledge of the world through books, i. ; talking from them, v. ; looking over their backs in a library, ii. ; poorest book, if the first, a prodigious effort, i. ; prices at which they were sold: boswell's edition of _johnson's letter to chesterfield_, . d., i. , n. ; churchill's _rosciad_, s., i. , n. ; dodsley's _cleone_, s. d., i. , n. ; goldsmith's _traveller_, s. d., i. ; johnson's _london_, s., i. , n. ; _marmor norfolciense_, s., i. , n. ; _observations on macbeth_, s., i. , n. ; _vanity of human wishes_, s., i. , n. ; _irene_, s. d., i. , n. ; _rambler, d_. a number, i. , n. ; _rambler_, vols. in mo., s., i. , n. ; _dictionary_, vols., l s., i. , n. ; _idler_, vols., s., i. , n. ; _rasselas_, vols. mo., s., i. , n. ; _journey to the western islands_, s., ii. , n. ; macpherson's _iliad_, two guineas, ii. , n. ; percy's _hermit of warkworth_, s. d., ii. , n. ; pope's ' ,' s., i. , n. ; robertson's _scotland_, two guineas, iii. , n. ; 'quarterly-book,' the, ii. ; seldom read when given away, ii. ; uncertainty of profits, iv. ; variety of them to be kept about a man, iii. ; voltaire on the rapid sale of books in london, ii. , n. ; willingly, not read, iv. . see reading. bookseller, a drunken, iii. . _bookseller of the last century_, sale of _the rambler_ and _rasselas_, ii. , n. ; newbery, v. , n. . booksellers, boswell's vindication of them, ii. , n. ; 'bridge, on the,' iv. ; copyright case, ii. , n. ; copyright, their honorary, iii. ; improvement in their manners, i. , n. ; johnson's letter on the book-trade, ii. ; uniform regard for them, i. ; calls them liberal-minded men, i. ; iv. , n. ; literary property, their, iii. ; london booksellers, denominated _the trade_, iii. , n. ; publish johnson's _lives_, iii. ; oppressors of genius, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; patrons of literature, i. , n. , . booth, barton, the actor, account of him, v. , n. ; manager of drurylane, v. , n. . booth, captain, in _amelia_, i. , n. . boothby, sir brook, i. . boothby, miss hill, johnson's friendship for her, i. ; prescription of orange-peel, ii. . n. ; supposed jealousy of lord lyttelton, iv. , n. ; letters to her. see johnson, letters. borlase, william, _history of the isles of scilly_, i. . borneo, v. , n. . borough, corruption in a, ii. . _borough english_, v. . boscawen, hon. mrs., iii. , ; iv. . boscovich, père, ii. , . bossuet, ii. , n. ; v. . bosville, squire godfrey, invites johnson to meet boswell at his house, iii. ; belonged to the same club as johnson, ib.; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , . bosville, mrs., ii. . bosville, miss, ii. , n. ; afterwards lady macdonald, v. . boswell, various spellings of it, v. - . boswell family, johnson's projected history of it, iv. . boswells of fife, ii. . boswell, sir alexander, baronet, boswell's eldest son, birth, ii. ; iii. ; at eton college, iii. ; described by scott, v. , n. ; killed in a duel, ii. . n. , , n. . boswell, david, a remote ancestor, ii. . boswell, david (boswell's younger brother), devotion to auchinleck, iii. ; return to it, iii. ; ill-used by dundas, iii. , n. ; johnson, calls on, iii. - ; liked by him, ; residence in spain, ii. , n. ; iii. ; leaves in consequence of war, - . boswell, david (boswell's third son), iii. ; death, iii. , . boswell, dr., account of him, v. ; johnson, meets, v. ; description of, iii. ; mentioned, i. ; iii. . boswell, euphemia (boswell's second daughter), ii. . boswell, james. chief events of his life. birth, october th, i. , n. . keeps an exact journal, i. , n. . enters at glasgow university, i. . first visit to london, i. . publishes an _elegy on the death of an amiable young lady_, and _an ode to tragedy_, i. , n. . contributes to a _collection of original poems, ib. the club at newmarket, ib_. second visit to london, i. . _critical strictures_, i. , n. . _correspondence with the hon. andrew erskine, ib._ gets to know johnson, i. . goes to study at utrecht, i. . & travels in germany, switzerland, and italy, iii. , n. ; , n. . visits corsica, ii. . visits paris, ii. . returns from abroad, ii. . visits london, ii. - . admitted as an advocate, ii. . is acquainted with men of eminence, ii. , n. . corresponds with the earl of chatham, ii. , n. . _dorando, a spanish tale_, ii. , n. . _essence of the douglas cause_, ii. . visits london and oxford, ii. - . _account of corsica_, ii. . raises a subscription to send ordnance to corsica, ii. , n. . visits ireland, ii. , n. . visits london, ii. - . first visit to streatham, ii. . attends the stratford jubilee, ii. . married, ii. , n. . _british essays in favour of the brave corsicans_, ii. , n. . - gap in his correspondence with johnson of nearly a year and a half, ii. . visits london, ii. - . visits london, ii. - . elected a member of the literary club, ii. . gets to know burke, ib. tour to the hebrides with johnson, ii. . visits london, ii. - . johnson assigns him a room in his house, ii. . visits wilton and mamhead in devonshire, ii. . enters at the inner temple, ii. , n. . birth of his eldest son, alexander, ii. . disagrees with his father about the settlement of his estate, ii. . visits london, ii. - ; iii. - . becomes paoli's constant guest when in london, iii. . visits oxford, birmingham, lichfield, and ashbourne with johnson, ii. - ; iii. - . visits bath, iii. - . introduces wilkes to johnson, iii. . meets johnson at ashbourne, iii. - . begins the _hypochondriack_ in the _london magazine_, iv. , n. . visits london, iii. - . attacked violently by johnson, iii. . _the hypochondriack_, iv. , n. . visits london (in the spring), iii. - . tries johnson's friendship by a fit of silence, iii. . visits london (in the autumn), iii. - . visits lichfield and chester, iii. - . _the hypockondriack_, iv. , n. . _the hypochondriack_, iv. , n. . visits london, iv. - . visits southill with johnson, iv. - . _the hypochondriack_, iv. , n. . death of his father, iv. . _the hypochondriack_, iv. , n. . visits london, iv. - . hopes for an appointment through burke, iv. . ends _the hypochondriack_, iv. , n. . _letter to the people of scotland on the present state of the nation_, iv. . stops at york on his way to london, iv. . hurries back to ayrshire with the intention of becoming a candidate for parliament, ib. visits london, iv. - . visits oxford with johnson, iv, - . johnson's death, iv. . journal of a tour to the hebrides, v. . _letter to the people of scotland against the attempt to diminish the number of the lords of session_, iv. , n. . called to the english bar, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . first joins the home circuit, then goes the northern, lastly returns to the home circuit, _letters of boswell_, p. , and iii. , n. . third edition of the _journal of a tour_, v. . canvasses ayrshire, iv. , n . courts lord lonsdale, ib. elected recorder of carlisle, _gent. mag_. for , p. . takes a house in queen anne street west, cavendish square, _letters of boswell_, p. . takes chambers in the inner temple, iii. , n. . death of his wife, i. , n. . joins in raising a subscription for a monument to johnson, _letters of boswell_, p. . _the letter from samuel johnson to the earl of chesterfield_, i. , n. . _a conversation between george iii and samuel johnson_, ii. , n. . suffers from lord lonsdale's brutality, ii. , n. . _the life of samuel johnson_, i. . appointed secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy, iii. . returns to the home circuit, _letters of boswell_, p. . second edition of the _life of johnson_, i. . death, may th, i. . boswell, james, account of himself, i. , ; iii. , n. ; v. ; birth, his, i. , n ; death, i. ; _account of the kirk of scotland,_ v. ; accuracy: see below, authenticity; activity, v. , n. , ; address to the king, carries an, iv. , ; advocate, admitted as an, ii. : see below, counsel; affectation of distress, iv. , ; allowance from his father of £ a year, iii. , n. ; alnwick, visits, ii. ; ambiguous prayer, his, iii. , n. ; ambition, iii. , n. ; america, ignorance of, ii. , , n. ; americans, sides with the, ii. , ; iii. - ; iv. , ; ancestry, thomas boswell, ii. ; iv. ; veronica sommelsdyck, v. , n. ; robert bruce, ib.; boswells of balmuto, v. ; anonymous mention of himself, ii. , , , , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; iii. , n , , n. , , n. , , n. ; iv. , ; antiquary, an, iii. , n. ; archives, his, iii. , n. ; o , n. ; army, wishes to enter the, i. ; v. ; fancies himself a military man, v. ; ashbourne, visits, iii. , , - ; auchinleck castle, describes, i. ; iii. ; v. ; authenticity, love of, i. ; ii. , , n. ; iii. , , n. ; iv. ; v. , ; avidity for delight, iii. ; bar, enters at the: see below, english bar; barbauld's, mrs., lines on him, ii. , n. ; baretti, dislike of, ii. , n. ; bath, visits, iii. ; bristol, ; bear, led by a, ii. , n. ; beauclerk's hit at his talk, ii. , n. ; birth-day, ii. , n, ; birth and gentility, love of, i. - ; ii. , - ; v. , , ; birthright, granted his father a renunciation of his, ii. , n. ; bishops, on, iv. ; 'blood:' see above, birth and gentility; boastful, iv. ; bologna, at, v. ; books, slight knowledge of, ii, ; johnson buys him some, ii. , n. ; iii. - , ; _boswell_, all that is comprehended in, ii. , n. ; 'boswell, mr. james, a native of scotland,' i. , n. ; boy, longer than others, v. ; 'bozzy,' ii. ; _british essays in favour of the brave corsicans_, ii. , n. ; burke, visits, iv. ; bustle, makes a, iii. , n. , cambridge, visits, ii. , n. ; cards, spends a night at, iii. ; carlisle, invites johnson to meet him at, iii. , , , ; celebrated men, acquaintance with, ii. ; iii. : see below, great men; changefulness, wretched, iii. ; character, johnson's account of his, i. ; ii , n. , , n. ; v. ; paoli's, i. , n. ; lord stowell's, v. , n. : see above, account of himself; chatham, earl of, correspondence with the, ii. , n. , , n. ; chester, visits, iii. ; his journal there a log-book of felicity, iii. ; 'chief, my yorkshire,' ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , ; children, his, ii. , , ; iii. ; blessed by a non-juring bishop, iii. ; loved by johnson, iii. ; church, not easy unless he goes to it, i. , n. ; fondness for going, iii. ; 'would pray with a dean and chapter,' iii. , n. ; chymistry, his intellectual, iii. ; citizen of the world, a, ii. ; v. ; classical quotation apt, v. ; _clubable,_ iv. , n. ; cocoa-tree club, at the, v. , n. ; _collection of original poems_, i. , n. ; collection of scotch words, begins a, ii, ; and of scotch antiquities, ii. ; iii. , n. ; consecrated ground, comfort in nearness to, v. ; divinely cheered by the nearness of carlisle cathedral, iii. , ; consecutive paragraphs, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _conversation between his most sacred majesty, &c_., ii. , n. ; _conspicuonsness, his_, iv. , n. ; convict unjustly condemned, ii. ; correspondence with adams, i. ; iv. ; beattie, ii. , n. ; v. ; blair, iii. ; v. ; blacklock, v. ; chatham, earl of, ii. , n. , , n. ; cullen, iv. ; dempster, v. ; dilly, iii. ; elibank, lord, v. ; forbes, sir w., v. ; garrick, ii. , n. ; iii. ; v. - , , n. ; hailes, lord, i. ; v. ; hastings, warren, iv. ; hector, iv. ; johnson: see below, johnson, and under johnson; langton, iii. ; monboddo, v. ; parr, iv. , n. ; percy, iii. ; pitt, iv. , n, ; rasay, v. - ; robertson, v. , ; reynolds, iv. , n. ; thurlow, iv. , ; vyse, iii. ; wilkes, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _correspondence with the hon. andrew erskine_, i. ; _corsica, account of_: see corsica; corsica, his head filled too much with it, ii. , , ; his memory honoured there, ii. , n. ; a tradition of him, ii. , n. ; corsicans, raises a subscription for the, ii. , n. ; counsel, engaged as, douglas cause, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; ecclesiastical censure case, iii. ; house of lords, before the, ii. , , n. , , n. ; iii. ; house of commons, iii. ; iv. , , n. ; dr. memis's case, ii. ; schoolmaster, prosecution of a, iii. ; society of solicitors' case, iv. ; country-house, takes a little, iii. , ; court of general assembly, despises pleading at the, ii. , n. ; court of sessions, little dull labours, ii. , n. ; _court of session garland_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; courtenay's lines on him, i. ; cow, lows like a, v. ; cowardly caution, iii. - ; critical skill, v. ; _critical strictures_, i. , n. , ; critics 'cannot or will not understand him,' v. , n. ; _cub at newmarket_, i. , n. ; curiosity, his wise and noble, ii. , ; dalblair and young auchinleck, known as, v. ; daughters, on the treatment of, ii. , n. ; 'dazzled' by johnson and paoli, i. ; death, at times not afraid of, iii. ; debts, i. , n. ; ii. ; paid by his father, iii. ; johnson's warnings, against incurring any, iv. - , , , ; dedications, his, i. ; ii. , n. ; v. ; delights to talk of the state of his mind, iv. ; describes visible objects with difficulty, v. , ; desert, has wished to retire to a, ii. ; devonshire, visits, ii. ; dignity, hardly possible uniformly to preserve, ii. , n. ; acquires 'dignity in london,' , n. ; dinners, gives admirable, ii. , n. ; gives one to some hebrideans and highlanders, ii. , ; goes without one, ii. ; displays his classical learning, v. , n. ; dissatisfaction, too much given to, iii. ; _dorando, a spanish tale_, ii. , n. ; 'drawing-room' dress, his, ii. , n. ; dresden, visits, i. , n. ; drudges in an obscure corner, ii. , n. ; duel, risk of having to fight a, ii. , n. ; early rising, difficulty of, iii. ; easter meetings with johnson, iv. . n. ; elated at getting johnson to the hebrides, v. ; _elegy on the death of an amiable young lady_, i. , n. ; elevated by pious exercises, iv. ; english bar, enters at the inner temple, ii. , n. ; iii. ; eats his dinners, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; called, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; discouraging prospects, iii. , n. ; takes chambers, ib.; attends the northern circuit, iii. , n. ; discussion with johnson on the way to success at the bar, iv. ; enthusiasm of mind, solemn, iii. , n. ; to go with captain cook, iii. ; to go to the wall of china, iii. ; feudal, iii. ; v. ; genealogical, v. ; envy of dundas's success, ii. , n. ; _epistle from menalcas to lycidas_, i. , n. ; _essays_, his, iv. ; _essence of the douglas cause_, ii. , n. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , n. ; estate, income of his, iv. , n. i; , n. ; eumelian club, member of the, iv. , n. ; exact likeness, draws an, i. ; executions, love of seeing, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; executors, his, iii. , n. ; 'facility of manners,' v. , n. ; fame, ardour for literary, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; fancies that he is neglected, ii. ; iii. , ; that johnson is ill or offended, ii. ; that his wife or children are ill, iii. ; at stains castle, v. ; in a highland inn, v. ; farm, purchases a, iii. ; father, his (lord auchinleck), death, iv. ; disagreement with, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. ; about heirs general and male, ii. - ; iii. ; uneasy with him, i. ; a timid boy in his presence, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; on better terms with him, iii. , , , , , ; dulls his faculties by strong beer before him, ii. , n. ; johnson, reproached by him as regards, ii. , . i; v. , n. ; johnson's advice about him, iii. ; likeness to him in face, v. ; feelings, avows his ardent, ii. ; 'fervour of loyalty,' iii. ; fees made before the house of lords, ii. , n. ; feudal system, love of the, ii. ; iii. ; feudal enthusiasm, his, v. : see succession, male; forwardness, ii. ; franklin, dr., dines with him, ii. , n. ; free-will, love of discussing: see free-will; 'gab like boswell,' v. , n. ; garrick, friendship with, iii. : see above, under correspondence; genealogist, a, iii. , n. ; george iii, relation to, v. ; ghosts, talks of, iv. , n. ; disturbed by the cry of one, v. , n. ; fearful of them, v. , n. ; gibbon, dislike of: see gibbon, edward; glasgow university, a student of, i. ; god, makes another man his, v. , n. ; goldsmith's lodgings, visits, ii. ; takes leave of him, ii. ; affected by his death, ii. , n. ; good-nature, described by burke, iii. , n. ; great men, hopes from, iii. , n. ; burke, iv. , , n. , , n. ; lonsdale, lord, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; pembroke, lord, ii. , n. , iii. , n. ; pitt, iv. , n. ; rockingham ministry, iv. ; seeking great men's acquaintance, iii. ; v. - ; _great man_, really the, ii. , n. , , n. ; quite the _great man_, iii. , n. , , n. ; greek, ignorance of, iii. ; 'griffith, an honest chronicler as,' i. ; guardians to his children, iii. ; hague, at the, v. , n. ; handel musical meeting, at the, iv. , - ; happiest days, one of his, iv. - ; hebrides, first talk of visiting the, i. ; ii. ; _homme grave_, ii. , n. ; horne tooke, altercation with, iii. , n. ; house in edinburgh, his, iii. ; v. , n. ; hume, intimacy with, ii. , n. , , n. ; has memoirs of him, v. ; humorous vein, v. ; _hypochondriack, the_, iv. , n. ; hypochrondria, suffers from, i. , n. , ; ii. , n. , ; iii. - , , , ; iv. ; pride in it, i. , n. ; iii. , ; 'hypocrisy of misery,' his, iv. ; idleness, i. ; imaginary ills: see fancies; imagination, should correct his, iii. ; independency of spirit, v. ; infidelity, his, in his youth, i. ; says that 'it causes _ennui_,' ii. , n. ; infidels, keeping company with, iii. ; intellectual excesses, iii. ; 'intoxicated not drunk,' ii. , n. : see below, wine; ireland, visits, ii. , n. ; isthmus, compares himself to an, ii. ; italy, visits, ii. , ; jacobitism when a boy, i. , n. ; associations connected with it, v. ; january , old port and solemn talk on, iii. ; jeffrey, helped to bed by, v. , n. ; jockey club, member of the, i. , n. ; johnson's acquaintance, makes, i. ; ii. ; and calls on him, i. ; under his roof for the last time, iv. ; last talk, ib.; last farewell, iv. ; advice on his coming into his property, iv. ; advises him to stay at home in , iv. ; affection, tries an experiment on, iii. - ; assigns him a room in his house, ii. ; iii. , ; company, time spent in, i. , n. ; complains of the length of his letters, iii. , n. ; constant respectful attention to, ii. ; consulted about america by, ii. , ; conversation reported at first with difficulty, i. ; copartnership in the tour to the hebrides with, v. , ; _custos rotulorum_, offers himself as, v. ; describes him as 'worthy and religious,' iii. ; _diary_, reads, iv. - ; regrets that mrs. boswell did not copy it, v. ; differed in politics on two points only from, iii. ; iv. ; dines for the first time at the house of, ii, ; drawn by him as too 'awful,' ii. , n. ; regrets losing some of his awe, iii. ; easier with him than with almost any body, iv. ; encourages him to turn author, i. ; not encouraged to share reputation with, ii. , n. ; exhorts him to plant, v. ; faults, does not hide, i. ; iii. , n. ; firmness, supported by, v. ; gaps in correspondence with, ii. , , , ; iii. - ; gives him _les pensées de paschal_, iii. ; gives him a thousand pounds in praise, iii. ; his guest for the first time, i. ; his 'guide, philosopher, and friend,' iii. ; iv. , ; imitates, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; invited to visit scotland, ii. , , , ; joins in his bond at the temple, ii. , n. ; _journey_, reads in one night, ii. ; projects a supplement to it, ii. , n. ; keeps him up late drinking port, i. ; iii. ; leads, to talk, i. , n. , , n. ; ii. ; iii. ; v. , , ; letters to, ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , ; iii. , , , , , , , , , n. , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , ; iv. , , ; three letters kept back, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; keeps his letters, ii. ; life, would add ten of his years to, iii. ; love for, iii. ; iv. , , n. , ; v. ; love for him, i. , , n. , , ; ii. , , iii. , , , , , n. , , n. i, - , ; iii. , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , ; iv. , , n. , , , , , ; v. ; loved by him and mrs. thrale, ii. ; monument, circular-letter about, iv. , n. ; projected monument at auchinleck, v. ; mysterious veneration for, i. ; necessity of a yearly interview with, iii. , ; neglects to write to, iii. - ; iv. ; offended and reconciled, ii. , ; heated in a talk about america, iii. - , ; a second time, iii. ; a week's separation, iii. ; reconciliation, iii. ; dispute about effects of vice on character, ii. ; in a violent passion on rattakin, v. ; reconciliation, v. ; offers to write a history of his family, iv. ; pension, tries for an addition to, iv. - , - , ; poems, projects an edition of, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; praises him for vivacity, iii. , n. ; good-humour, iii. , n. ; as a travelling companion, iii. ; v. ; as one sure of a reception, v. , n. ; proposes a meeting in with, iii. , , ; proposes that they should meet one day every week, ii. ; iii. , n. ; proposes weekly correspondence with, iii. ; publishes without leave a letter from, ii. , n. , , ; may publish all after--death, ; recommended to a lady client by, ii. ; sadness in parting with, ii. ; iii. ; says that to lose him would be a limb amputated, iv. , n. ; tries, by not writing, iii. - ; visits harwich with, i. ; the hebrides, v. - ; oxford, ii. ; oxford and the midland counties, ii. ; bath, iii. - ; ashbourne, iii. - ; southill, iv. - ; oxford, - ; visits him ill in bed, iii. ; and wilkes together, brings, iii. - ; a successful negotiation, iii. ; will, not in, iv. , n. ; witty at his expense, i. ; ii. ; v. ; yearly meeting with, need of a, iii. ; johnson's court, veneration for, ii. ; journal, in his youth keeps a, i. ; by the advice of mr. lowe, ii. , n, ; accuracy, its, asserted, ii. , n. ; 'exact transcript of conversations,' v. ; justification for keeping it, ib.; entries in it made in company, i. , n. ; iv. , n. , ; method of keeping it, v. ; kept with industry, i. - ; four nights in one week given to it, i. - ; neglected, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , , , n. , ; iii. , , ; iv. , n. , l , , , n. , ; v. , , , ; advised by johnson to keep one, i. ; johnson pleased with it, iii. ; helps to record a conversation, ib.; v. ; reminded that it is kept, iii. ; kept in quarto and octavo volumes, iv. ; journal of his visit to ashbourne, iii. ; johnson's remark on it, iii. , n. ; journal of a tour to the hebrides, extensive circulation, ii. ; in spite of ridicule, iii. ; editions and translation, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; corrections made in part of first edition, v. , n. ; passages omitted in the later editions, v. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; 'an honest chronicler as griffith,' i. , n. ; attacks on it, v. ; johnson's life, exact picture of a portion of, v. ; praised by him, i. , n. ; motto, iii. , n. ; read in ms. by johnson, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , , n. , , , , , n. ; by mrs. thrale, ii. ; v. , n. ; and malone, v. ; task of much labour, v. ; juxtaposition of stories and names, iii. , n. ; knight-errant, feels like a, v. ; knowledge at the age of twenty-five, ii. ; laird, seen as a, iv. ; lancaster assizes, at, iii. , n. ; latin corrected by johnson, ii. ; defended, ii. ; talked latin in highland houses, v. ; law, ignorance of, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; study of it, i. , ; professor of it in the imaginary college, v. ; lawyer, unwilling to become a, i. , ; lay-patron, a, ii. ; learning, praises his own, v. , n. ; _letter to the people of scotland on the present state of the nation_ ( ), iv. , - ; sent to pitt, ib., n. ; _letter to the people of scotland against diminishing the number of the lords of session_ ( ), burke, edmund, mentioned, iv. , n. ; george iii, i. , n. ; goldsmith and reynolds, i. , n. ; juries judges of the law, iii. , n. ; lee, 'jack,' iii. , n. ; 'montgomerie, a true,' his wife, ii. , n. ; thurlow, lord, iv. , n. ; universal man, boswell a very, iii. , n. ; vanity, owns his, i. , n. ; whitefield, ii. , n. ; wilkes, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; letters: see correspondence; letters, reasons for inserting his own, v. ; liberty and necessity, troubled by, iv. ; lichfield, visits in , ii. ; shown real 'civility' there, iii. ; visits it in , iii. ; life, reflections on, iii. - ; life of johnson, _additions_ to it, i. ; advertisement of it in the _tour to the hebrides_, v. ; cancels, i. ; ii. , n. ; delayed by dissipation, i. , n. ; johnson approves of him as his biographer, i. ; ii. , ; iii. ; v. ; 'claws,' would not cut off his, i. , n. ; death and character, how to describe his, iv. , n. ; mode in which it is written, i. , n. ; 'new kind of libel,' iv. , n. ; printed by h. baldwin: see baldwin; odyssey, like the, i. ; progress and sale, i. , n. and ; iv. , n. ; translated, never, v. , n. ; likes, a man whom everybody, iii. ; literary club, a member of the, i. , n. , , n. ; proposed by johnson, ii. ; v. ; elected, ii. ; johnson's charge, ib.; how he got in, v. ; for meetings: see clubs, literary; lodgings, his london, downing street, i. ; farrar's buildings, i. , . n. ; half-moon street, ii. , n. ; ; old bond street, ii. ; conduit street, ii. ; piccadilly, ; gerrard street, iii. , n. ; general paoli's in south audley street, iii. , ; inner temple lane, chambers in, iii. , n. ; london, expedition to it highly improving, ii. , n. ; increased spirits there, iii. ; johnson consulted about a visit to it, ii. - ; agrees to his removing to it, iv. ; love of it, i. ; ii. ; iii. , , ; london, visits, in , i. ; - , i. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - ; , ii. - , iii. - ; (in boswell met johnson in ashbourne, iii. - ); , iii. - ; , spring, iii. - ; autumn, iii. - ; , iv. - ; , iv. - ; (sets out in march but turns back at york, iv. ), - ; lonsdale, pays court to lord, ii. , n. ; brutality, suffers from, ii. , n. ; looks forward to his future worth, ii. , n. ; loose life, his, ii. , n. , , n. , , n. , , , n. ; manners, want of, ii. ; manuscripts, his, destroyed by his executors, iii. , n. ; , n. ; v. , n. ; marriage, approaching, ii. , , , ; takes place, ii. ; thinks of a second one, iii. , n. ; masquerade, at a, ii. ; _matrimonial thought_, ii. ; melancholy: see above, hypochondria; military life, love of, i. ; iii. , n. ; mind 'somewhat dark,' ii. ; 'mingles vice and virtue,' ii. ; mob, reported to have headed a, ii. , n. ; montagu, mrs., quarrel with, iv. ; mother-in-law, his, ii. , n. ; mountstuart, lord, friendship with, iv. ; music, made a fool of by, iii. - ; mystery, love of, iii. ; and the mysterious, iv. , n. ; naples, at, v. ; narrowness, troubled with a fit of, iv. ; nature, no relish for the beauties of, i. ; 'never left a house without leaving a wish for his return,' iii. ; newspapers, inserted notices of himself in the, ii. , n. , , n. ; noble friend, puzzled by a, iv. ; objects on the road, not observant of, iv. ; _ode to tragedy_, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; oglethorpe, flattered by, ii. , n. and ; old-fashioned principles, v. ; 'old-hock humour,' i. , n. ; ii. , n. i; ostentatious, i. ; oxford, visits, in , ii. ; in , ii. ; in , iv. - ; '_paoli_ boswell,' known as, v. l ; 'the friend of paoli,' i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; , n. ; attention to him, beautiful, iii. , n. ; guest in london, ii. , n. ; iii. , , n. ; present of books to, ii. ; parliament, wishes to be in, iv. , ; perfection, periods fixed for arriving at his, ii. , n. ; v. ; piety, exalted in, ii. , n. ; pitt's neglect, complains of, iii. , n. ; dislikes him, iii. ; writes to him, iv. , n. ; place, longing for a, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; players, intimacy with, iii. , n. ; plays his part admirably, iii. ; 'all mind, iii. ; pleasing distraction, in a, iii. ; political speculation, owns himself unfit for, ii. , n. ; portrait by reynolds, i. , n. ; _praeses_, elected, iv. ; preached at in inverness chapel, v. ; _quare adhaesit pavimento_, iii. , n. ; quotations sometimes inaccurate, i. , n. ; quotes himself, v. , n. , , n. ; changes words, ii. , n. ; _rasselas_, yearly reading of, i. ; read, promises johnson to, ii. , n. , , n. ; sat up all night reading gray, ii. , n. ; reads ovid's _epistles_, v. ; reserve, practises some, i. ; ii. , n. ; retaliates for attacks on johnson made by lord monboddo, ii. , n. ; by foote, ii. , n. ; reynolds, introduced to, i. , n. : see reynolds, boswell; ridicule, defies, i. ; iii. ; right-headed, said by baretti to be not, iii. , n. ; rousseau, wishes to see, iii. , n. ; visits him, ii. - , ; sympathy with him, ii. ii, n. ; royal academy, secretary for foreign correspondence, ii. , n. ; letters of acceptance, iii: , n. , - ; seat reserved for him at a lecture, iii. , n. ; rudd, mrs., acquaintance with, ii. , n. ; iii. - ; rural beauties, little taste for, i. ; v. ; scot, 'scarce esteemed a scot,' i. ; scotch accents, ii. , ; scotticisms, corrected, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; criticised, ; scotch shoeblack, his, ii. ; scotland, forty years' absence from it suggested to him, iii. ; finds it too narrow a sphere, ; its manners disagreeable to him, ii. , n. ; vulgar familiarity of its law life, iii. , n. ; suffers from its rudeness, ii. , n. ; scotchman, the one cheerful, iii. ; a scotchman without the faults of one, iii. ; _scots magazine_, contributes to the, i. ; self-tormentor, i. ; seward, controversy with miss, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; shakespeare jubilee, ii. ; short-hand, uses a kind of, iii. ; his long head equal to it, iv. ; slavery, approves of, iii. , - , ; smith, adam, opinion of, ii. , n. ; praises his facility of manners, v. , n. ; socrates, does not affect to be a, ii. ; sophist, plays the, iii. ; spy, charge of being a, ii. , n. ; st. paul's, easter worship in, ii. , , - , ; iii. , , ; iv. ; stepmother, on ill terms with his, ii. , n. ; iii. ; storm, among the hebrides, in a, v. - ; studies, johnson's advice as to his, i. , , , , ; study, has a kind of impotency of, ii. , n. ; succession, preference of male, ii. , n. ii, , n. , , n. ; succession to the barony of auchinleck, ii. - ; superstition an enjoyment, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; dreams, i. , ; iv. ; johnson's relief from dropsy, iv. : see above, mystery, and below, ghosts, and scotland-hebrides, second sight; swearing, blameless of, ii. , n. ; talk, not from books, v. ; _tanti-man, a, iv. ; temple, enter at the inner: see above, english bar; tenants, kindness to his, iv. , n. , ; tenderness, calls for, iii. ; _thesis_ in civil law, ii. , ; thrale, mrs., introduction to, ii. ; her 'love' for him, ii. , , ; attacked by her, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; argument with her, iv. ; see under, mrs. thrale; thurlow bows the intellectual knee to, iv. , n. ; toleration, discusses, ii. ; tory, boasts of the name of, iii. , , n. ; confirmed in his toryism, iii. , n. ; town, pleasure in seeing a new, iii. ; _travels,_ wishes to publish his, iii. , , n. ; truthfulness: see authenticity; 'universal man, a,' iii. , n. ; 'unscottified,' ii. ; utrecht, goes to, i. , ; vanity, avows his, i. ; in his youth, i. , n. ; variety of men and manners, sees a, ii. , n. , , n. ; voltaire, wishes to see, iii. , n. ; visits him, i. , , n. ; ii. ; vows, love of making, ii. , : see below, wine, vows of sobriety; walpole, horace, calls on, iv. , n. ; who is silent in his presence, iv. , n. ; warren, dr., attended on his death-bed by, iv. , n. ; water-drinking, tries: see below, wine; welcome where-ever he goes, iii. ; wife, his search of a, ii. , n. , , n. , , n. ; wife, his, 'a true montgomerie,' ii. , n. ; his praise of her, v. ; bargain with her, ib. n. ; death, i. , n. ; see boswell, mrs.; will, his, iii. , n. ; williams, miss, tea with, i. , ; ii. ; wilkes, dines with, ii. , n. : see under wilkes, john; wine, bruised and robbed when drunk, i. , n. ; 'intoxicated, but not drunk,' ii. , n. ; intoxicated at bishop shipley's, iv. , n. ; at miss monckton's, ; in sky on punch, v. ; penitent, v. ; thinks it good for health, v. ; johnson advises him to drink less, ii. , n. ; iv. ; ; to drink water, iii. ; life shortened by his indulgence, iii. , n. ; lover of it, a, iii. , n. ; v. ; nerves affected by port, i. , iii. ; vow of sobriety under the venerable yew, ii. , n. , , n. ; to paoli and courtenay, ib.; water-drinking, tries, iii. , n. , ; wits, one of a group of, ii. ; works, list of his projected, v. , n. (to this list should be added _an account of a projected tour to the isle of man_, iii. ); writings, early, i. , n. ; york, at, in , iv. , ; zelide, a dutch lady, in love with, ii. , n. . boswell, mrs. (the author's wife), boswell praises her as 'a true montgomerie,' ii. , n. ; a valuable wife, iii. , n. , ; she describes him as a man led by a bear, ii. , n. ; death, i. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; health, iii. - , , ; iv. ; johnson, feelings towards, ii. , n. , , , , , , , , , , , , ; iii. , , , , , , , , ; iv. , , , ; hospitality to, v. - , , ; invites her to his house, iii. , ; letter to, iv. . for letters from--: see johnson, letters; sends marmalade to, iii. , , , ; receives a set of _the lives_ and _poets,_ iii. , ; scotch accent, iii. ; shrewd observation, her, iii. , n. ; travelling, dislikes, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , . boswell, james, the author's second son, birth, iii. ; account of him, ib. n. ; educated at westminster school, iii. ; describes malone's friendship with the boswells, v. . n. ; writes his father's dying letter, i. , n. ; supplies notes to the _life,_ i. . boswell, miss, ii. , n. . boswell, robert, burnt boswell's manuscripts, iii. , n. . boswell, thomas (founder of the family), ii. ; iv. ; v. . boswell, veronica, johnson pleased with her, v. ; origin of her name, ib. n. ; additional fortune promised her, ; death, ib. n. ; her scotch, iii. ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. , , . boswell, sir w., i. , n. . _boswelliana,_ variations in boswell's anecdotes, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; story about voltaire, iii. , n, . bosworth, i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. . botanical garden, iv. . botanist, johnson not a, i. , n. . "bottom of good sense," iv. . bouchier, governor, iv. . bouffier. see buffier. boufflers, comtesse de, visits johnson, ii. , ; his letter to her, ib.; account of her, ib. n. . boufflers, marquise de, ii. , n. . bouhours, dominic, ii. . _boulter's monument_, i. . boulton, matthew, sells power, ii. ; johnson visits his works, v. . bounty herring-busses, v. . bounty on corn. see corn. bouquet, joseph, bookseller, i. , bourbon, house of, iv. , n. . bourdaloue, ii. , n. ; v. . bourdonne, mme. de, ii. , n. . _bouts rimés_, ii. . bowen, emanuel, _complete system of geography_, iii. . bowles, william, johnson dines with him, iv. , n. ; visits him, iv. - ; his wife a descendant of cromwell, iv. , n. . bowles, ----, of slains castle, v. , n. . bowood, iv. , n. . bowyer, william, iv. , . _box_, a tradesman's, v. , n. . boyd, hon. charles, v. - ; 'out in the ' ,' v. . boyds of kilmarnock, v. . boydell, alderman, ii. , n. . boyle, family of, v. . see orrery, earls of. boyle, hon. hamilton, (sixth earl of corke and orrery), i. , n. ; v. . boyle, hon. robert, _martyrdom of theodora_, i. ; compares argument and testimony, iv. , n. . boyse, samuel, account of him, iv. , n. , ; compared with derrick, iv. , n. . bradley in derbyshire, i. , . bradshaw, william, iv. , n. . brahmins, admit no converts, iv. , n. ; the mastiffs of mankind, iv. . braidwood, thomas, v. . braithwaite, mr., iv. . bramhall, archbishop, ii. . bramston, james, i. , n. . brandy, the drink for heroes, iii. ; iv. . brantome, v. . 'brave we,' v. . _bravery of the english common soldiers,_ i. . brazil, iv. , n. ; language, v. , n. . bread tree, ii. . breeding, good, ii. ; v. , , . brentford, iv. ; v. . brett, colonel, i. , n. . brett, mrs., i. , n. . brett, miss, i. , n. . brett, rev. dr. thomas, the nonjuror, iv. . brewers, thwart the 'grand scheme of subordination,' i. . brewing in paris, ii. . see thrale, henry. brewood, iv. , n. . brewse, major, v. - . bribery, statutes against, ii. . bridgenorth, v. . bridgewater, duke of, v. , n. . bright, john, _speeches_, quoted, ii. . brighthelmstone (brighton), books burnt there as popish, iii. , n. ; johnson describes it, iii. , n. ; finds it very dull, iii. ; does not much like it, iii. ; stays there in , iv. - ; other visits, iii. - ; ship tavern, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. , . brille, iii. . bristol, boswell and johnson's visit in , iii. ; bad inn, iii. ; burke its representative, iii. ; hannah more keeps a school there, iv. , n. ; newgate prison, savage dies in it, i. ; described by wesley, iii. , n. ; dagge, the keeper, praised by johnson, iii. , n. l; whitefield forbidden to preach in it, ib.; st. mary redcliff, iii. . bristol, first earl of, i. , n. . bristol-well (clifton), iii. , n. . britain, ancient state, iii. . britain and great britain, swift dislikes the names of, i. , n. . british museum, library, iv. , n. ; papers deposited by boswell, ii. , n. , , , n. ; mentioned, iv. . _british princes, the_, ii. , n. . briton, johnson's use of the term, i. , n. ; george iii gloried in being born one, ib. broadley, captain, iii. . brocklesby, dr., account of him, iv. ; boswell and johnson dine with him, iv. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. ; generosity towards johnson and burke, iv. ; johnson's physician in - , iv. , n. , - , , - , , , ; attends his death-bed, iv. ; quotes shakespeare, iv. ; juvenal, iv. ; instructed by johnson in christianity, iv. , ; tells him that he cannot recover, iv. ; bequest from him, iv. , n. . for johnson's letters to him, see johnson, letters. brodie, captain, i. , n. ; ii. . bromley, i. ; ii. ; iv. - , . brooke, henry, _earl of essex_, iv. , n. ; _gustavus vasa_, i. ; subscription raised for him, i. , n. . brooke, mrs., _siege of sinope_, iii. , n. . brooks, mrs., the actress, v. . brooks, unchanged for ages, iii. . _broom's constitutional law_, iii. , n. . broome, william, iii. ; iv. . _broomstick, life of a_, ii. . brothers and sisters, born friends, i. . brown, dr. john, account of him, ii. , n. ; _athelstan_, ii. , n. ; _barbarossa_, ii. , n. ; _estimate_, ii. . brown, launcelot, (_capability_), account of him, iii. , n. ; improves blenheim park, ii. ; anecdote of clive, iii. . brown, professor, of st. andrew's, v. . brown, rev. robert, of utrecht, ii. ; iii. . brown, tom, author of a spelling-book, i. . brown, ----, keeper of the advocates' library, v. . browne, hawkins, iv. . browne, isaac hawkins, delightful converser, ii. , n. ; _de animi immortalitate_, v. ; drank freely, v. ; parodied pope, ii. , n. ; silent in parliament, ii. . browne, patrick, _history of jamaica_, i. . browne, sir thomas, anglo-latian diction, i. ; 'brownism,' ib., ; _christian morals_, i. ; death, on, iii. , n. ; 'do the devils lie?' iii. ; fortitude in dying, iv. , n. ; _life by johnson_, i. , ; oblivion, on, iv. , n. ; pembroke college, member of, i. , n. . browne, mr., 'a luminary of literature,' i. , n. . _brownism_, i. , . bruce, james, the traveller, ii. ; v. , n. . bruce, robert, boswell's ancestor, v. , n. , , n. ; not the lawful heir to the throne, v. . bruce, ways of spelling it, v. . brumoy, peter, i. . brundusium, iii. . brunet, ----, ii. . brunswick, house of. see hanover, house of. brutes, future life, their, ii. ; misery caused them recompensed by existence, iii. ; not endowed with reason, ii. . brutus, marcus junius, i. , n. . bruyÈre, la, ii. , n. ; v. . bryant, jacob, his antediluvian knowledge, v. , n. ; johnson's knowledge of greek, v. , n. ; mentioned, iv. ; v. , n. . brydges, sir egerton, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . brydone, patrick, _travels_, ii. ; antimosaical remark, ii. ; iii. . _bubbled_, v. . n. . buccleugh, third duke of, v. , n. . buchan, sixth earl of, ii. , . buchanan, george, born _solo et seculo inerudito_, v. ; _calendae maiae_, v. ; _centos_, ii. ; johnson's retort about him, iv. ; learning, v. ; poetical genius, i. ; ii. ; mentioned, v. . _buck_, v. , n. . buckhurst, lord, v. , n. . buckingham, george villiers, second duke of, the rehearsal, ii. , n. ; _zimri_, ii, , n. . buckingham, duchess of, iii. . buckles, iii. ; v. . budgell, eustace, calls addison cousin, iii. , n. ; addison wrote his _epilogue to the distressed mother_, i. , n. ; iii. ; mended his _spectators_, ib.; his suicide, ii. ; v. . budworth, captain, iv. , n. . budworth, rev. mr., i. , n. ; iv. , n. . buffier, claude, i. . buffon, account of the cow shedding its horns, iii. , n. ; his conversation, v. , n. . _builder, the_. king's head, i. , n. . _bulk_, i. , n. , . bulkeley, lord, v. . bulkeley, mrs., ii. . bull, alderman, lord mayor, iii. - ; attacks lord north, iii. . bull-dog, dr. taylor's, iii. . buller, mr., ii. , n. . buller, mrs., iv. , n. . _bulse_, iii. , n. . bunbury, sir charles, member of the literary club, i. ; ii. , ; at johnson's funeral, iv. . bunbury, h.w., burns sheds tears over one of his pictures, v. , marries miss horneck, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . bunyan, john, johnson praises _the pilgrim's progress_, ii. ; franklin buys his works, iv. , n. . burbridge, ----, i. n. . burch, edward, r.a., iv. , n. . burgess-ticket, johnson's, at aberdeen, v. . burgoyne, general, disaster to his army, iii. . burgoyne, ----, iii. , n. . burial service, iv. . burke, d., iv. , n. . burke, edmund, affection, on the descent of, iii. ; akerman, keeper of newgate, praises, iii. ; america, increase of population in, ii. , n. ; american taxation, speech on, ii. ; arguing on either side, on, iii. , n. ; bacon's _essays_, iii. , n. ; balloon, sees a, iv. , n. ; baretti's trial, gives evidence on, ii. , n. , ; the consultation for the defence, iv. ; barnard's verses, mentioned in, iv. ; beaconsfield, johnson visits it, ii. , n. ; '_non equidem invideo_,' iii. ; gibbon mentions it, , n. ; beauclerk's character, draws, ii. , n. ; berkeley, projects an answer to, i. ; bible, on subscribing the, ii. , n. ; birmingham buttons, likens the spanish declaration to, v. , n. ; boswell's epithets for him, ii. , n. ; good-nature, describes, iii. , n. ; v. ; hopes for place from him, iv. , , n. ; _life of johnson_, admires, i. , n. ; looks upon him as continually happy, iii. , n. ; meets him for the first time, ii. ; successful _negotiation_, admires, iii. ; visits him, iv. ; bottomless whig, a, iv. ; boy, loves to be a, iv. ; bristol, would be upon his good behaviour at, iii. ; brocklesby, dr., gives him £ , iv. , n. ; 'bulls enough in ireland,' iii. ; _cecilia_, reads, iv. , n. ; chatham and the woollen act, jokes about, ii. , n. ; cicero or demosthenes, not like, v. ; composition, promptitude of, iii. ; conversation, his, its 'affluence,' ii. ; corresponds with his fame, iv. ; ebullition of his mind, ; never hum-drum, v. ; ready on all subjects, iv. , - ; talk, partly from ostentation, iii. ; not good at listening, v. ; _corycius senex_, iv. ; croft's imitation of johnson's style, iv. ; definition of a free government, iii. ; domestic habits, iii. ; dutch sonnet, mentions a, iii. ; dyer, samuel, draws the character of, iv. , n. ; economical reform bill, v. , n. ; eloquence, v. ; emigration, on, iii. - ; exaggerated praise, would suffer from, iv. ; extraordinary man, an, ii. ; iv. , ; v. ; first man everywhere, iv. , n. ; v. ; fitzherbert's character, describes, iii. , n. ; fox introduced into the club, ii. , n. ; garrick, dines with, ii. , n. ; epitaph on, ii. , n. ; glasgow professorship, seeks a, v. , n. ; goldsmith's college days, recollections of, iii. ; and the _fantoccini_, story of, i. ; _haunch of venison_, mentioned in, iii. , n. ; and _retaliation_, i. ; iii. , n. ; grenville's character, ii. , n. ; hamilton, engagement with, i. ; estimate of him, iv. , n. ; hawkins, attacked by, i. , n. histories, his opinion of, ii. , n. ; house of commons, enters the, ii. ; first speeches, ii. ; described as the second man in it, iv. , n. ; as the first, v. ; describes it as a mixed body, iii. ; hume's partiality for charles ii, ii. , n. ; hussey, rev. dr., praises, iv. , n. ; immorality, possible charge of, iv. , n. ; 'imprudent publication,' i. ; _influence_ of the crown, on the, iii. , n. ; ireland--penal code against the catholics, ii. , n. ; people condemned to ignorance, ii. , n. ; roman catholics the nation there, ii. , n. ; irish language, iii. ; johnson charges him with want of honesty, ii. ; iii. ; describes him as 'le grand burke,' iv. , n. ; as 'a great man by nature,' ii. : see above, conversation, and extraordinary man; has a low opinion of his jocularity, iv. : see below, wit; predicts his greatness, ii. ; buys a print of him, i. , n. ; explains the excellence of his eloquence, v. ; visits him at beaconsfield, ii. , n. ; v. ; in parliament defends--, iv. ; eulogises him, iv. , n. ; funeral, at, iv. ; has the greatest respect for, iv. ; _journey_, commends, iii. ; last parting with, iv. ; praises his work, ib., n. ; iii. ; likens him to _appius_, iv. , n, ; as a member of parliament, considers, ii. ; joins in raising a monument to, iv. , n. ; 'oil of vitriol,' speaks of, v. , n. ; parody of his speech, iv. , n. ; powers, calls forth all, ii. ; rings the bell to, iv. - ; roughness in conversation, iv. ; sends his speech on india to, iv. , n, ; shuns subjects of disagreement in their talk, ii. ; study of low dutch, iv. ; style, i. ; at a tavern dinner, meets, i. , n. ; thames scolding, admires, iv. ; 'why, no, sir,' explains, iv. , n. ; _junius_, not, iii. ; 'kennel, in the,' iv. ; knowledge, variety of, v. , ; law, intended for the, v. ; _letter to the sheriffs of bristol_, iii. ; life led over again, on, iv. ; literary club, original member, i. ; attendance, ii. ; mentioned by gibbon, iii. , n. ; name distinguished by an initial, iii. , n. ; playful talk, iii. ; 'live pleasant,' i. ; london, describes, iii. , n. ; mankind, thinks better of, iii. ; middle temple, enters at the, v. , n. ; minority, always in the, iii. ; ministry, on the pretended vigour of the, iv. , n. ; 'mire, in the,' v. ; monckton's, miss, at, iv. , n. ; 'mund,' ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; '_mutual_ friend,' iii. , n. ; newgate, visits baretti in, ii. , n. ; nugent, dr., his father-in-law, i. , n. ; opponent, as an, ii. ; 'parcel of boys,' iv. , n. ; parliament: see above, house of commons; 'party,' defines, ii. , n. ; party, sticking to his, ii. ; v. ; paymaster of the forces, iv. , n. ; poetry is truth rather than history, ii. , n. ; portrait at streatham, iv. , n. ; powell and bembridge, case of, iv. , n. ; _present discontents_, iii. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; puns, on the isle of man, iii. ; wilkes, iii. ; v. , n. ; _modus_ and _fines_, iii. ; deanery of ferns, iv. ; langton, v. , n. ; boswell's definition of man, ib.; reforms the king's household expenses, iv. , n. ; reputation in public business, ii. ; retiring, talks of, iv. , n. ; reynolds's character, draws, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; reynolds is his echo, ii. , n. ; is too much under him, iii. ; robinhood society, iv. , n. ; rockingham, advice to, ii. , n. ; royal academy, seat reserved for him at the, iii. , n. ; romances, loves old, i. , n. ; round-robin, draws up the, iii. ; should have had more sense, iii. , n. ; same one day as another, iii. ; v. ; shelburne speaks of him with malignity, iv. , n. ; soldiers, on the quartering of, iii. , n. ; son, extravagant estimate of his, iv. , n. ; _speech on conciliation_, ii. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; speeches too frequent and familiar, ii. ; effect of them, iii. ; not like demosthenes or cicero, v. - ; statues, on the worth of, iii. ; stonehenge, sees, iv. , n. ; stream of mind, ii. ; style censured by johnson, iii. ; and francis, iii. , n. ; _sublime and beautiful_, i. , , n. ; ii. ; subscription to the articles, on the, ii. , n. ; talk, his: see conversation; thurlow, lord, iv. , n. ; townshend, charles, ii. , n. ; translations of cicero, could not bear, iii. , n. ; understands everything but gaming and music, iv. , n. ; vesey's gentle manners, praises, iv. ; _vindication of natural society_, i. , n. ; virgil, his ragged delphin, iii. , n. ; prefers him to homer, v. , n. ; whigs, quietness of the nation under the, iv. ; 'wild irishmen,' v. ; wilkes on his want of taste, iv. ; winds into a subject like a serpent, ii. ; wit, fails at, i. ; iii. ; iv. , n. ; v. , ; langton's description of it, i. , n. ; boswell's defence, v. , n. ; reynolds's, ib.; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. ; iv. , . burke, richard, senior, barnard's verses on johnson, iv. - . burke, richard, junior, (edmund burke's son), account of him, iv. , n. ; at chatsworth, iv. ; johnson, calls on, iv. - ; rebuked by, , n. ; member of the literary club, i. . burke, william, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . burke, william, the murderer, v. , n. . burlamaqui, ii. . burlington, lord, iii. ; iv. , n. . _burman, peter, life of_, i. . burnet, arthur, v. . burnet, gilbert, bishop of salisbury, dedication to lauderdale, v. ; hickes, george, v. , n. ; _history of his own time_, very entertaining, ii. ; v. ; kincardine, earl of, v. , n. ; _life of hale_, iv. ; _life of rochester_, iii. - ; _lilliburlero_, effect of, ii. , n. ; lloyd's learning in ready cash, ii. , n. ; popery, controversial war on, v. , n. ; style mere chit-chat, ii. ; truthfulness, ii. , ib. n. ; whitby, daniel, v. , n. . burnet, james. see monboddo, lord. burnet, thomas, v. , n. . burnet, miss, v. , n. . burney, dr. charles, _account of the handel commemoration_, iv. ; boscovitch, visits, ii. , n. ; boswell's _life of johnson_, notes to, i. ; doctor of music, i. ; eumelian club, member of the, iv. , n. ; garrick, mrs., dines with, iv. - ; handel musical meeting, iv. , n. ; _history of music_, ii. , n. ; iii. - ; v. ; house in st. martin's street, iv. ; johnson accompanies his son to winchester, iii. ; anecdotes of, ii. ; iv. ; asks him to teach him the scale of music, ii. , n. ; begs his pardon, iv. , n. ; character, draws, iii. , n. ; character of him, ii. , n. ; death-bed, iv. , n. , - ; funeral, , n. ; dislike of _the former, the latter_, iv. , n. ; first visit to his house, ii. , n. ; house in gough square, i. ; in the temple, iv. ; letters: see johnson, letters; hearth-broom, iv. ; introduces him at oxford, iii. - ; kindness, i. , n. ; love of him, ii. , n. ; and of his family, iii. , n. ; iv. ; parting with burke, iv. , n. ; pension, i. , n. ; politeness, i. ; praises his library, ii. , n. ; sayings, collection of, ii. ; _shakespeare_, i. , ; at streatham in , ii. ; talking to himself, i. , n. ; will, not in, iv. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; lynne regis, residence at, i. ; _musician_, article on, ii. , n. ; musical scheme, a, iii. , n. ; portrait at streatham, iv. , n. ; _rambler_, sale of, i. , n. ; smart, kit, kindness to, i. , n. ; smart's madness, i. ; streatham library, account of, iv. ; thornton's _ode_, i. , n, ; thrale, mrs., neglected by, iv. , n. ; rebukes her, iv. , n. ; _travels_ ridiculed by bicknell, i. , n. ; praised by johnson, iv. ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. , n. , . burney, mrs., i. , , n. ; iv. , - . burney, dr. charles (jun.), account of beckford's speech to the king, iii. , n. ; greek, knowledge of, iv ; johnson's funeral, at, iv. , n. ; head on a seal, has, iv. , n. ; regard for him, iv. ; n. ; studied at aberdeen, v. , n. . burney, frances (mme. d'arblay), baretti's bitterness, iii. , n. ; bath, at, in , iii. - , , n. ; boswell's imitation of johnson, iv. , n. ; boswell meets her at johnson's house, iv. ; 'broom gentleman, the,' iv. , n. ; burke, first sight of, iv. , n. ; burke's account of lady di. beauclerk, ii. , n. ; burke, young, iv. , n. ; cambridge, r. o., iv. , n. ; carter, mrs., iv. , n. ; cator, john, iv. , n. ; _cecilia_, iv. ; clerk, sir p. j., iv. , n. ; dates, indifferent to, iv. , n. ; _downed_, will not be, iii. , n. ; _evelina_ first praised by mrs. cholmondeley, iii. , n. ; copy in the bodleian, iv. , n. ; drawings from it, , n. ; grossness of sailors described, ii. , n. ; not heard of in lichfield, ii. , n. ; fielding and smollett, exhilarated by, ii. , n. ; garrick's mimicry of johnson, ii. , n. ; george iii compliments her, ii. , n. ; criticises shakespeare, i. , n. ; popularity, iv. , n.. ; goldsmith's projected _dictionary_, ii. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. , n. , , n. ; grub street, had never visited, i. , n. ; hamilton, w. g., character of, i. ; harington's _nugae antiquae,_ iv. , n. ; hawkesworth's death, v. , n. ; _irene,_ iv. , n. ; johnson accuses her of writing scotch, iv. , n. ; appearance: see johnson, personal appearance; attacks w. w. pepys, iv. , n. ; benignity, ii. , n. ; borrows a shilling of her, iv. , n. ; at brighton, iv. , n. ; and dr. burney, friendship of, ii. , n. ; and burney's _history of music_, ii. , n. ; cecilia, praises, iv. , n. ; comical humour, ii. , n. ; consulted by letter, ii. ; describes garrick's face, ii. , n. ; eye-sight, iv. , n. ; _evelina,_ praises, ii. , n. , , n. ; on expectations, iv. , n. ; garrick, let nobody attack, iii. , n. ; good humour and gaiety, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; and greville, iv. , n. ; grief at thrale's death, iv. , n. ; household, iii. ; ill, iv. , n. , , n. ; violent remedies, iii. , n. ; 'in the wrong chair,' iv. , n. ; introduction to her, ii. , n. ; kindliness, iv. , n. ; kitchen, ii. , n. ; last days, iv. , n. ; likes an intelligent man of the world, iii. , n. ; made or marred conversation, v. , n. ; and miss more, iv. , n. ; needed drawing out, iii. , n. ; and the newspapers, iii. , n. ; parting with burke, iv. , n. ; portrait, ii. , n. ; praises her, iv. ; mrs. montagu, quarrels with, iv. , n. , , n. ; urges miss burney to attack her, iii. , n. ; and miss reynolds, i. , n. i; sight, i. , n. ; sorrow for his bitter speeches, ii. , n. ; at streatham, i. , n. ; iii. ; style, imitates, iv. ; talk, iv. , n. ; and mrs. thrale, provoked by mrs. thrale's praise, iv. , n. ; reproves her for flattery, v. , n. ; drives her from his mind, iv. , n. ; warley camp, returns from, iii. , n. ; writes to, iv. ; johnson, mrs., lodgings, iv. , n. ; kauffmann, angelica, iv. , n. ; lade, sir john, iv. , n. ; langton's imitation of johnson, iv. , n. ; lived to a great age, iv. , n. ; lowe the painter, iv. , n. ; macaulay, on her style, iv. , n. ; iv. , n. ; marriage, iv. , n. ; metcalfe, w., iv. , n. ; miller, lady, ii. , n. ; monckton's, miss, assemblies, iv. , n. ; montagu, mrs., character of, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; murphy, arthur, described, i. , n. ; loved by thrale, i. , n. ; musgrave, richard, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; omai, iii. , n. ; pantheon and ranelagh, ii. , n. i; paoli's account of boswell, i. , n. ; queen charlotte's opinion of boswell, i. , n. ; _regale_, use of the word, iii. , n. ; reynolds's inoffensiveness, v. , n. ; matrimonial wishes about, iv. , n. ; rousseau, admires, ii. , n. ; seward, william, iii. , n. ; solander, dr., v. , n. ; streatham, life at, iv. , n. ; farewell to, , n. ; thrale, henry, his character, i. , n. ; luxurious table, iii. , n. ; stroke of apoplexy, iii. , n. ; sale of his brewery, iv. , n. ; thrale, mrs., her character, i. , n. ; letters to her, iv. , n. ; love of piozzi, iv. , n. ; rudeness to him, iv. , n. ; want of restraint, iv. , n. ; vesey, mrs., iii. , n. ; walker, the lecturer, iv. , n. ; warton, dr. joseph, ii. , n. ; warton, rev. thomas, iv. , n. . burns, robert, beattie's _minstrel_, praises, v. , n. ; boswell's neighbour, v. , n. ; dempster, r., i. , n. ; elegy on miss burnet, v. , n. ; elphinston's _martial_, iii. , n. ; 'gab like boswell,' v. , n. ; gauger, a, iv. , n. ; 'holy willie,' ii. , n. ; iii. ; hume, attacks, v. , n. ; scott, seen by, v. , n. ; _tristram shandy_ and _the man of feeling_, i. , n. . burrow, a man near his, i. , n. ; iii. . burrowes, rev. r., iv. . burrows, dr., iii. . burton, dr. john hill, beattie's _essay on truth_, v. , n. ; burke, hume and clow, v. , n. ; _captain carleton's memoirs_, iv. , n. ; helvetius's advice to montesquieu, v. , n. ; douglas cause, ii. , n. ; hume's dislike of the english, v. , n. ; house in james's court, v. , n. ; and dr. cheyne, iii. , n. ; in paris, ii. , n. ; praise of scotch writers, iv. , n. ; predecessors in history, ii. , n. ; scotticisms, ii. , n. ; toryism, iv. , n. ; king's college, aberdeen, v. , n. ; scotch militia bill, iii. , n. . burton, robert, _anatomy of melancholy_ made johnson rise earlier, ii. ; recommended by him, ; 'be not solitary; be not idle,' iii. ; elected student of christ church, i. . _burton's books_, iv. . burton-on-trent, i. , n. . busch, dr., iv. , n. . business, retiring from, ii. . bustling, v. . _busy body_, i. , n. . _busy, curious, thirsty fly_, ii. . butcher, the art of a, v. - . bute, third earl of, adams the architect, patronises, ii. , n. ; a book-minister, ii. ; his chancellor of the exchequer, ii. , n. ; concessions to the people, ii. ; daughter-in-law, his, ii. , n. ; favourite of george iii, i. ; and of the princess dowager of wales, iv. , n. ; _humphry clinker_, mentioned in, ii. , n. ; jenkinson, his secretary, iii. , n. ; johnson's letters to him, i. , ; johnson's pension, i. - ; iv. , n. ; luton hoe, iv. ; purchase of the estate, , n. ; minister, when once, should not have resigned, ii. ; pensions conferred by him, i. , n. ; scotchmen, partiality to, ii. ; scotland, never goes to, iv. ; shelburne on his strengthening the power of the crown, iii. , n. ; shelburne's 'pious fraud,' iv. , n. ; son, his, colonel james stuart, iii. ; took down too fast, ii. ; wilkes attacks him, ii. , n. ; dedicates to him _mortimer_, iii. . bute, first marquis of. see mountstuart, lord. butler, bishop, _analogy_, v. . butler, samuel, _hudibras_, bullion which will last, ii. ; not a poem, iii. ; shows strength of political principles, ii. ; seldom read, ii. , n. ; quotations from it: 'h' was very shy of using it,' iii. , n. ; 'indian britons made from penguins,' v. ; 'jacob behmen understood,' ii. , n. ; 'true as the dial to the sun,' iv. , n. ; 'thou wilt at best but suck a bull,' i. , n. ; 'the devil was the first,' &c., iii. , n. ; _remains_, v. . butt, mr., i. , n. . butter, dr., ii. , n, ; iii. , , ; iv. , , , n. . butter, mrs., iii. . button-hole act, v. , n. . buxton, iii. ; v. . byng, admiral, _appeal to the people concerning_, i. , ; _letter on the case of_, i. ; _some further particulars by a gentleman of oxford_, i. ; epitaph, his, i. ; mallet, attacked by, ii. ; voltaire's saying about him, i. . byng, hon. john, iv. . byron, captain, v. , n. . byron, lord, admires the _vanity of human wishes_, i. , n. ; attacked in the _edinburgh review_, iv. , n. ; praises and abuses the earl of carlisle, iv. , n. . c. cabbages, ii. ; v. . cabiri, i. . caddel, william, of cockenzie, ii. , n. . cadell, thomas, gibbon's _decline and fall_, publishes, ii. , n. ; praised by him, ii. , n. ; hawkesworth's _cook's voyages_, publishes, ii. , n. ; hume and his opponents, gives a dinner to, ii. , n. ; johnson's _journey_, publishes, ii. , n. ; _false alarm_, ii. , n. ; one of a deputation to, iii. ; asks parr to write johnson's _life_, iv. ; mackenzie's _man of feeling_, publishes, i. ; robertson's _scotland_, publishes, iii. . _cadet, the, a military treatise_, i. . cadogan, dr., v. - . cadogan, lord, i. . caen-wood, iii. . caermarthen, lord, iii. , n. . caesar, julius, i. . cairo, iii. , n. i, , , n. , . calais, ii. , . _calaminaris_, v. , n. . calculation. see johnson, calculation. calder, dr. john, ii. , n. . calderwood, mrs., ii. , n. . caldwell, sir james and sir john, ii. , n. . caledon, i. . 'caliban of literature,' ii. . caligula, iii. . callander, earl of, v. , n. . _called_, iv. . callimachus, iv. . calming oneself, v. . calvinism, v. , n. . calypso, i. . cambray, ii. . cambrick bill, iii. , n. . cambridge, emmanuel college, farmer, dr., master, i. ; ii. , n. ; johnson promised an habitation there, i. ; strong in shakespeare and black letter, iii. , n. ; king's college, steevens a member, ii. ; pembroke college, kit smart a fellow, i. , n. ; queen's college, iv. ; trinity college, lord erskine a member, ii. , n. ; johnson spends an evening there, i. ; trinity hall, i. ; university, examinations for the degree, iii. , n. ; johnson visits it, i. , ; parr neglected, i. , n. ; professor sanderson, ii. , n. ; university-verses, ii. . see universities. cambridge men, on johnson's criticism of gray, iv. . _cambridge shakespeare_. see under shakespeare. cambridge, r. o., boswell's account of him, iv. ; walpole's and miss burney's, ib. n. ; dinners at his house, ii. , n. , ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , n. ; horace, talk about, iii. - ; _world, the_, contributor to, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , ; iv. , n. , . camden, lord, douglas cause, ii. , n. ; garrick, intimacy with, iii. ; general warrants, ii. , n. ; johnson, attacked by, ii. ; goldsmith, neglect of, iii. ; literary club, blackballed at the, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. _ _; popularity, ii. , n. ; one of the sights of london, iv. , n. ; wilkes's case, judge in, ii. , n. . camden, william, epitaph on a man killed by a fall, iv. ; '_mira cano_,' iii. ; pembroke college latin grace, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; mentioned, v. . cameron, dr., executed, i. . cameron, dugall, v. . cameron, ewen, v. . cameron of lochiel, i. , n. . camerons, a branch of the, called maclonich, v. . camp, at warley, iii. , ; coxheath, ib. n. ; one of the great scenes of human life, iii. , n. . campbell, hon. and rev. archibald, johnson's account of him, iv. ; v. - ; his collection of scotch books, ii. ; _doctrine of a middle state_, v. , n. . campbell, archibald (_lexiphanes_), ii. . campbell, colonel sir archibald, iii. . campbell, colonel mure, iii. . campbell, evan, v. . campbell, general, v. , n. , . campbell, dr. john, author, a rich, i. , n. ; _biographia britannica_, ii. ; _britannia elucidata_, v. ; cold-catching at st. kilda, on, ii. ; _hermippus redivivus_, i. ; ii. ; inaccurate in conversation, iii. - ; johnson's character of him, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; v. ; declines to argue with, v. ; never lies on paper, i. , n. ; or with pen and ink, iii. ; piety in passing a church, i. ; _political survey of great britain_, killed by its bad success, ii. ; its publication delayed, v. ; sunday evenings in queen square, i. ; thirteen bottles of port at a sitting, iii. . campbell, rev. john (brother of cambell of treesbank), v. . campbell, rev. john of kippen, ii. . campbell, lord, _lives of the chancellors_ cameron's execution, i. , n. ; chancellors, appointment of, ii. , n. ; _douglas cause_, ii. , n. ; eldon's, lord, attendance at church, iv. , n. inaccuracy in list of lichfield scholars, i. , n. ; ladd, sir john, anecdote of, iv. , n. mansfield's, lord, speech in somerset's case, iii. , n. ; radcliffe's trial, i. , n. ; thurlow and horne tooke, iv. , n. . campbell, mungo, account of him, iii. - . campbell, rev. dr. archibald, of st. andrews, _enquiry into the original of moral virtue_, i. . campbell, rev. dr. george, principal of marischal college, aberdeen, v. . campbell, rev. dr. thomas, an irish clergyman, account of him, ii. ; baretti's love of london, i. , n. ; baretti and mrs. thrale, iii. , n. ; _diary of a visit to england_, ii. , n. ; dublin physicians, iii. , n. ; english and irish cottagers, ii. , n. ; english and scotch learning, v. , n. ; irish bull, guilty of an, ii. ; johnson and america, ii. , n. ; appearance, i. , n. ; _bon-mots_, ii. , n. ; came from ireland to see, ii. ; dancing lessons, iv. , n. ; introduced to, ii. ; and dr. james foster, iv. , n. ; and madden, i. ; suspects burke to be _junius_, iii. , n. ; writings, and reynolds's pictures, ii. , n. ; penal code against the papists, ii. , n. ; _philosopical survey_, ii. ; published as an englishman's book, iv. , n. ; rutty, dr., iii. , n. ; _taxation no tyranny_, sale of, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , ; iii. . campbell, ----, of auchnaba, iii. , . campbell,----, a factor, v. . campbell, ----, a tacksman of mull, v. , . campbell, ----, of treesbank, v. . campbells, ----, mrs. boswell's nephews, iii. . campbelltown, ii. ; v. . canada, i. , n. , . _canal_, iii. , n. . candidates for orders, iii. , n. . _candide_. see voltaire. canning, miss, ii. , n. . _canons of criticism_, i. , n. . cant, clearing the mind of it, iv. ; meanings of the word, _ib., n_. ; modern cant, iii. . canterbury, iii. , ; iv. , n. . canterbury, archbishops of, _public dinners_, their, iv. , n. ; cornwallis, archbishop, johnson's application to him, iii. ; seeker, archbishop, johnson asked to seek his patronage, i. . canus, melchior, ii. . canynge, 'a bristol merchant,' iii. , n. i. capel, lord, v. , n. . capell, edward, editor of _shakespeare_, iv. . capital punishments. see executions, newgate, and tyburn. caraccioli, m. de, iii. , n. . _caractacus_, ii. . _card, the_, v. , n. . cardonnel, commissioner, iii. , n. . cardross, lord (sixth earl of buchan), ii. . cards, johnson wishes he had learnt to play at them, i. ; iii. ; v. ; condemns them in the rambler, iii. , n. . careless, mrs., johnson's first love, ii. - ; mentioned, iv. - , . _careless husband_. see cibber, colley. carelessness, iv. . caribs, iii. , n. . _carleton's, captain, memoirs_, iv. - . carlisle, boswell proposes to meet johnson there, iii. ; 'cathedral so near auchinleck,' iii. - ; percy made dean, iii. ; printer run out of parentheses, iii. , n. . carlisle, law, bishop of, i. , n. . carlisle, fifth earl of, iv. , n. ; _poems_, iv. ; _the father's revenge_, iv. - . carlisle house, iv. , n. . carlisle of limekilns, v. . carlyle, dr. alexander blair, robert, iii. , n. ; blair's, hugh, conversation, v. , n. ; cardonnel, commissioner, iii. , n. ; clergy (english), at harrogate, v. , n. ; clergy (scotch), and card-playing, v. , n. ; cullen's mimicry, ii. , n. ; culloden--london in an uproar of joy, v. , n. ; dinners in london and edinburgh, i. , n. ; dodd, dr., iii. , n. ; douglas, duchess of, v. , n. ; elibank, lord, v. , n. ; elphinston's school, ii. , n. ; guthrie, w., i. , n. ; home patronised by lord bute, ii. , n. ; _douglas_, v. , n. ; as an historian, iii. , n. ; hume, account of, v. , n. ; opinion of _ossian_, ii. , n. ; leechman's prosecution, v. , n. ; liberality of leading clergymen, v. , n. ; lonsdale, lord, v. , n. ; maclaurin, professor, v. , n. ; macpherson, james, ii. , n. ; mansfield on hume's style, i. , n. ; millar, andrew, i. , n. ; poker club, ii. , n. ; pretender, young, v. , n. ; robertson and the claret, iii. ; n. ; conversation, v. , n. ; romantic humour, iii. , n. ; smith, adam, iv. , n. ; study of english by the scotch, i. , n. . carlyle, thomas, cromwell's speeches, i. , n. ; gough square, visits, i. , n. ; errors about johnson, i. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; hénault, quotes, ii. , n. ; johnson's god-daughter, subscribes for an annuity to, iv. , n. ; _novalis_, quotes, iii. , n. ; sandwich, lord, and basil montague, iii. , n. ; teacher's life, on a, i. , n. ; walking to edinburgh university, v. , n. ; writing an effort, iv. , n. . carmichael, miss, johnson lodges her in his house, iii. ; speaks of her as 'poll,' iii. ; describes her, iii. . carnan, thomas, bookseller, iii. , n. . caroline, queen, clarke's refusal of a bishopric, iii. , n. ; leibnitz, patronizes, v. ; savage, bounty to, i. , n. , , n. . carpenter, anecdote of a, iv. . carre, rev. mr., v. - . carruthers, robert, highland emigration, v. , n. . _carstares' state papers_, v. , n. . carte, thomas, believed in the 'regal touch,' i. ; _history of england_, i. ; ii. ; iv. ; _life of ormond_, v. . carter, rev. dr., i. , n. . carter, miss elizabeth (mrs.), account of her, i. , n. ; age, lived to a great, iv. , n. ; alarum, her, iii. ; _amelia_, praises, iii. , n. ; burney, miss, described by, iv. , n. ; her _correspondence_, i. , n. ; crousaz's _examen_, translates, i. ; garrick, mrs., dines with, iv. - ; greek and pudding-making, i. , n. ; johnson advises her to translate _boethius_, i. ; writes an epigram to her, i. , ; english verses, ib.; a letter, i. , n. ; praises her, iv. ; known as 'the learned,' iv. , n. ; _ode to melancholy_, i. , n. ; _rambler, contributes to the, i. ; criticises it, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. . carter,--, a riding-school master, ii. , n. . carteret, john, lord, afterwards earl granville, i. , . _carteret_, a dactyl, iv. . carthage, iv. . carthagena, v. . carthusian convent. see monastery. cascades, v. , n. , . cashiobury, i. , n. . casimir's _ode to pope urban_, i. , n. . castes of the hindoos, iv. , n. , . castiglione, author of _il corteggiano_, v. . castiglione, prince gonzaga di, iii. , n. . castle, shut up in one, ii. . casuistry, i. . catalogue of johnson's _works_, i. . catalogues, why we look at them, ii. . catcot, george, iii. - . cathcart, lord, ii. ; iii. . cathedrals of england, most seen by johnson, iii. , ; neglected, v. , n. . catherine ii, empress of russia, boswell's eulogium on her, iii. , n. ; engages english tutors, iv. , n. ; _evelina_, has drawings made from, iv. , n. ; houghton collection, buys the, iv. , n. ; _rambler_, orders a translation of the, iv. ; sends reynolds a snuff-box, iii. . _catholicon_, ii. . catiline, i. . cato the censor, iv. . cator, john, iv. , , n. . cats, shooting, iv. . catullus, iv. . caulfield, miss, iii. . cave, edward, account of him, i. , n. ; abridgment of trapp's _sermons_, publishes an, i. , n. ; attacked by rivals, i. , n. ; birch, dr., letters to, i. , , , ; boyse's verses to him, iv. ; coach, sets up a, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; death and effects, i. , ns. and ; _debates_, publishes the, i. - , , - , - ; reports them, i. ; descendants, collateral, i. , n. ; examined before house of lords, i. , n. , ; (_sylvanus urban_), _gentleman's magazine_, projects the, i. , ; attends closely to its sale, iii. ; ghost, saw a, ii. , ; indecent books, sells, i. , n. ; johnson 'cave's oracle,' i. , n. ; first employer, i. ; _life of savage_, buys the copyright of, i. , n. ; letters from: see johnson, letters; money account with, i. ; _ode_ to him, i. ; _rambler_, proprietor of, i. , n. , , n. , , n. ; and the screen, i. , n. ; writes his _life_, i. ; 'penurious paymaster,' i. , n. ; iv. ; prizes for verses, offers, i. , n. , ; treatment of his readers, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , , n. , . cave, edward, jun., i. , n. . cave, miss, i. , n. . caversham, ii. , n. . cawston, ----, iv. . caxton, william, iii. . cecil, colonel, ii. . _cecilia_. see miss burney. ceded islands, money arising from the, ii. , n. . celibacy, cheerless, ii. . celsus, iii. , n. . celts, descended from the scythians, v. . censure, ecclesiastical, iii. . _cento_, ii. , n. . certainties, small, the bane of men of talents, ii. . cervantes, don quixote's death, ii. : see don quixote; praised _il palmerino d' inghilterra_, iii. 'chair of verity,' iii. , n. . chalmers, alexander, edits the _spectator_, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . chalmers, george, edits johnson's _debates_, i. , n. . 'cham of literature,' i. . chamberlain, lord, johnson's application to the, iii. , n. . chamberlayne, edward, iv. . chamberlayne, rev. mr., iv. . chambers, catherine, i. - ; death, ii. . chambers, ephraim, _dictionary of arts and sciences_, i. , ; new edition, ii. , n. ; epitaph, i. , n. , , n. ; johnson takes his style as a model, i. . chambers, sir robert, dissenters and snails, ii. , n. ; johnson's companion to newcastle, ii. ; v. , ; learnt law from him, iii. ; letter to him, i. ; prescribes remedies to, ii. ; recommends him to warren hastings, iv. - ; visits him, ii. , ; judge in india, appointed, ii. ; threatened with revocation, ib., n. i; langton's will, makes, ii. ; lincoln college, oxford, member of, i. ; literary club, member of the, i. , n. , ; married, ii. ; principal of new inn hall, ii. , , n. ; portrait in university college, ii. , n. ; at streatham, iv. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; proud or negligent, ii. ; warton, dr., recommends him to w. g. hamilton, i. ; mentioned, i. , , , ; ii. ; iv. ; v. . chambers, dr. robert, _traditions of edinburgh_--boyd's inn, v. , n. ; edinburgh, a new face in the streets, v. , n. ; noble families in the old town, v. , n. ; hailes, lord, i. , _n_. ; _hardyknute_, ii. , n. ; james's court, v. , n. ; kames, lord, ii. , n. ; macdonald's, flora, virulence, v. , n. ; monboddo, lord, ii. , n. . chambers, sir william, _dissertation on oriental gardening_, iv. , n. ; v. ; ridiculed in _the heroic epistle, ib.; johnson writes an introduction to his _chinese architecture_, iv. ; somerset house, architect of, iv. , n. ; _treatise on civil architecture_, iv. , n. . chamier, andrew, account of him, i. ; goldsmith, his estimate of, iii. - ; johnson consults him in dodd's case, iii. ; gets his interest for mr. welch, iii. ; visits him, iii. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; signs the round-robin, iii. . champion, sir g., iii. . _champion, the_, i. . chancellors, lord high, how chosen, ii. . chances, iv. . _chances, the_, ii. , n. . chandler, dr., ii. , n. . change, silver, iv. . chantilly, ii. . chapel-house, ii. . chaplains, ii. . chapone, mrs., account of her, iv. , n. ; _correspondence_, her, i. , n. ; johnson, letter from, iv. ; his meeting with the abbé raynal, iv. ; his views on natural depravity, v. , n. ; _rambler_, contributes to the, i. ; williams, mrs., account of, i. , n. . character, a most complete one, ii. ; argument, its weight in an, ii. ; v. , n. ; delineation in the _anabasis_, iv. ; expectation of uniformity, iii. , n. ; johnson saw a great variety, iii. ; his sketches of them, ib.; men not bound to reveal their children's character, iii. ; not to be tried by one particular, iii. ; must not be lessened, v. ; nature and manners, ii. ; as to this world not hurt by vice, iii. , . charade, a, iv. . charitable establishment in wales, a, iii. . charity. see almsgiving. charlemont, first earl of, beauclerk's character, draws, i. , n. ; letters to him, ii. ; hume's french, i. , n. ; hume and mrs. mallet, ii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; johnson and vestris, iv. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; story of the pyramids, iii. , , ; mentioned, ii. , , n. ; iv. . charles i, anniversary of his death, ii. , n. ; kept by boswell with old port and solemn talk, iii. ; birth-place, v. ; concessions to parliament, v. ; corn, price of, in his reign, iii. , n. ; johnson and lord auchinleck dispute about him, v. , n. ; 'murder,' his, unpopular, ii. ; political principles in his time, ii. ; saying about lawyers, ii. ; mentioned, i. , n. , ; ii. , n. ; v. , , . charles ii, atheist and bigot, iv. , n. ; betrayed and sold the nation, ii. , n. ; corn, price of, in his reign, iii. , n. ; descendants, his, beauclerk, i. , n. ; commissioner cardonnel, iii. , n. ; charles fox, iv. , n. ; duke of york and catharine sedley, v. ; france, took money from, ii. ; heale, at, iv. , n. ; hume's partiality for him, ii. , n. ; johnson's partiality for him, i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. ; 'lenity,' his, iv. ; lewis xiv, might have been as absolute as, ii. ; manners, ii. ; political principles in his time, ii. ; social, i. ; story-telling, excelled in, iii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n ; v. , n. . charles iii (the young pretender), ii. . charles edward, prince. see pretender. charles v, emperor, plays at his own funeral, iii. . charles x, of france, ii. , n. . charles xii, of sweden, compared with socrates, iii. ; dressed plainly, ii. ; johnson's _vanity of human wishes_, i. . _charles of sweden_, i. . charlotte, queen, account of boswell, i. , n. ; garrick's compliment to her, ii. ; 'a lady of experience,' ii. ; queen's house, ii. , n. ; sunday knotting, iii. , n. ; mentioned, i. ; ii. . _charmer, the_, v. . charter-house, iii. , . charter-house school, iii. . chartres, colonel, ii. , n. . chastity, one deviation from it ruins a woman, ii. ; property depends on it, ii. ; v. . chatham, william pitt, earl of, boswell, correspondence with, ii. , n. , , n. ; _capability_ brown, account of, iii. , n. ; cardross, lord, offers a post to, ii. ; cumming the quaker's account of him, v. , n. ; dictator, iii. ; excisemen, attacks, i. , n. ; garrick, notes to, ii. ; highland regiments, raises, iii. ; v. ; house of commons, last speech in the, ii. , n. ; johnson attacks him, ii. , n. , ; criticises his oratory, iv. ; writes a speech in his name, i. ; loudoun, lord, recalls, v. , n. ; merchants and tradesmen, praises honest, v. , n. ; 'meteor,' i. ; v. ; oratory, his, i. ; oxford in , at, i. , n. ; 'ptit,' figures in the _debates_ as, i. ; public and private schools, on, iii. , n. ; scotch militia bill, acquiesces in the, ii. , n. ; shelburne joins his ministry, iii. , n. ; son, his, superior to him, iv. ,_ n._ ; trecothick, praises, iii. ,_ n._ ; walpole, distinguished from, ii. ; war, his glorious, ii. ; whigs and tories, distinguishes, i. , n. ; 'woollen, buried in,' ii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . chatsworth, boswell visits it, iii. ; johnson visits it in , v. ; in , iv. , ; present at a 'public dinner,' ib., n. . chatterton, thomas, money gained by beckford's death, iii. , n. ; _rowley's poetry,_ iii. ; pretended discovery, ib., n. ; johnson's admiration, iii. ; goldsmith's belief, ib., n. ; walpole's disbelief, ib.; quarrel about it between goldsmith and percy, iii. , n. ; 'wild adherence to him,' iv. . chaucer, took much from the italians, iii. . _chaucer, life of,_ i. . cheap, captain, i. , n. . chelsea, ii. , n. . chelsea college, ii. . chemistry, johnson's love of it, i. , ; ii. ; 'the new kinds of air,' iv. ; priestley's discoveries, . cheney walk, ii. , n. . cherokees, v. . cheselden, william, iii. ,_ n._ . chester, boswell visits it, iii. - ; johnson and the thrales, v. ; michael johnson attends the fair, ib.; passage thence to ireland, i. . chesterfield, fourth earl of, active sports and idleness, i. , n. ; addison and leandro alberti, ii. , n. ; appeal to people in high life, how to be made, i. , n. ; bolingbroke's ready knowledge, ii. , n. ; 'but stoops to conquer,' quotes, ii. , n. ; conversation and knowledge, iv. ; dedications, the _plastron_ of, i. , n. ; dignified but insolent, iv. ; dissembling anger, i. , n. ; duplicity, his, i. - ; eliot, mr., praises, iv. , n. ; epigram written with his diamond, iv. , n. ; exquisitely elegant, iv. ; faulkner, george, account of, v. , n. ; friend, had no, iii. ; flogging, on, i. , n. ; general reflections, on, iv. , n. ; graces and wickedness, on uniting the, ii. ; _great_, pronunciation of, ii. ; _letters_, 'hottentot, a respectable,' i. ; v. , n. ; ireland's sufferings from a drunken gentry, v. , n. : johnson addresses to him the plan, i. - ; ii. , n. ; , n. ; his ms. notes on it, i. , n. ; _dictionary_, writes in _the world_ on, i. - ; flatters with a view to a _dedication, i. ; letter to him, i. - , , n. ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; boswell begs for a copy of it, iii. , ; gets it, iv. ; neglects, i. - ; presents ten pounds to, i. , n. ; speeches ascribed to him, iii. ; laughter low and unbecoming, declares, ii. , n. ; letter to his son at rome, iv. , n. ; _letters_, johnson's description of them, i. ; boswell's, ib., n. ; lord eliot's, iv. ; literary property in them contested, i. ; pretty book, might be made a, iii. ; sale, ii. ; mentioned, iii. ; _miscellaneous works_, published in , iii. , n. ; old and ill, i. , n. ; parisians not learned, declares the, i. , n. ; patron of bad authors, iv, , n. ; position, great, ii. ; pride, i. ; _respectable_, use of the term, iii. , n. ; richardson's novels, ii. , n. ; robinson, sir t., epigram on, i. , n. ; secretary of state, iv. , n. ; speeches composed by johnson, i. ; study of eloquence, on the, iv. , n. ; _transpire_, iii. , n. ; tyrawley, lord, criticism on, ii. ; 'wit among lords,' i. ; wit, his, ii. ; world, on the judgment of the, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. ; iv. . chesterfield, fifth earl of, dodd, dr., forges his name, iii. . chevalier, the, v. , n. . _chevalier's muster roll_, v. , n. . cheyne, dr. george, account of his diet, iii. , n. ; on bleeding, iii. , n. ; _english malady_, i. ; iii. , ; v. ; rule of conduct, v. . _cheynel, life of_, i. ; ii. , n. . v. . chichester, iv. . chiefs. see highlands. chiesley of dalry, v. , n. . childhood, companions of one's, iii. . child, ----, of southwark, i. , n. . children, business men care little for them, iii. ; company, should not be brought into, iii. , ; gay's writings for them, ii. , n. ; johnson on books for them, iv. , n. , ; library, to be turned loose in a, iv. ; management of them, i. , n. ; method of rearing them, ii. ; natural aptitudes, v. , ; prematurely wise, ii. . china, dog-butchers, ii. ; mortality on the voyage thither, i. , n. ; wall of, iii. , ; people 'perfectly polite,' i. ; barbarians, iii. ; plantations, iv. . _china_, du halde's _description of_. see du halde. china-fancy, iii. , n. . china-manufactory, iii. . _chinese architecture_. see chambers, sir w. _chinese stories_, i. . chiswick, iv. , n. . 'choice of difficulties,' v. . choisi, abbé, iii. . cholmondeley, g. j., iv. . cholmondeley, mrs., account of her, iii. , n. ; a very airy lady, v. ; an affected gentleman, iii. ; johnson takes her hand, iii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. . christ's hospital, ii. . christ's satisfaction, iv. ; v. . christian, rev. mr., ii. . _christian hero_, ii. . _christian philosopher and politician_, i. , n. . christianity, differences political rather than religious, i. ; chiefly in forms, ii. ; iii. ; evidences for it, i. , , , , ; ii. , ; iii. , ; v. , ; revelation of immortality its great article, iii. ; its 'wilds,' iii. . christie, james, the auctioneer, iv. , n. . chrysostom, v. . church, the, possesses the right of censure, iii. - , , n. . 'church and king,' iv. , . church of england, in charles ii's reign, ii. ; 'churchmen will not be catholics,' iv. , n. ; convocation denied it, i. ; discipline and convocation, iv. ; example of attendance at the services, ii. ; house of hanover, all against the, v. ; manner of reading the service, iii. ; neglected state of the buildings, v. , n. ; of the cathedrals, , n. ; observance of days, ii. ; parishes neglected, iii. ; patronage, ii. - ; revenues, iii. ; theory and practice, iii. . church of rome. see roman catholics. church of scotland. see under scotland. churchill, charles, account of the publication of his poems, i. , n. ; profits, ib. n. ; 'blotting,' hatred of, i. , n. ; boswell criticises his poetry, i. ; 'brains not excised,' v. ; cowper's high estimate of his poetry, i. , n. ; davies and his wife, i. , n. , ; iii. , ; death, his, i. , n. , , n. ; dodsley's _cleane_, i. , n. ; flexney, his publisher, ii. , n. ; francklin, dr., iv. , n. ; 'gainst fools be guarded,' v. , n. ; _gotham_, i. , n. ; guthrie, william, i. , n. ; hill, sir john, ii. , n. ; holland the actor, iv. , n. ; johnson, attacks, about _shakespeare_, i. - , ; about the cock-lane ghost, i. ; about his strong terms, iii. , n. ; despises his poetry, i. ; lloyd in the fleet-prison, i. , n. ; norton, sir fletcher, ii. , n. ; ogilvie's poetry, i. , n. ; _prophecy of famine_, i. , n. , ; iii. , n. ; _gotham_, europe's treatment of savages, iii. , n. ; straw in bedlam, ii. , n. ; 'strolling tribe,' i. , n. ; warburton, bishop, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; whitehead, paul, i. ; 'with wits a fool, with fools a wit,' i. , n. . churton, rev. ralph, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. . cibber, colley, _apology_, ii. ; iii. ; goldsmith praises it, ib., n. ; _birth-day odes_, i. , n. , - ; ii. ; iii. , ; _careless husband_, revised by mrs. brett, i. , n. ; origin of the story, ib.; no doubt written by cibber, ii. ; praised by pope and h. walpole, iii. , n. ; comedies, merit in his, ii. ; iii. ; chesterfield, and johnson, anecdote about, i. ; conversation, his, ii. , ; iii. ; dryden, recollections of, iii. ; fenton, insulted, i. , n. ; genteel ladies, his, ii. ; _hob or the country wake_, ii. , n. ; ignorance, iii. , n. ; iv. ; impudence, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; johnson's epigram on him, i. ; v. , , ; shows one of his _odes_ to, ii. ; mode of arguing: see johnson, arguing; manager of drury lane, v. , n. ; _musa cibberi_, iv. , n. ; _non-juror, the, _ii. ; poet-laureate, i. , n. ; _provoked husband_, ii. ; iv. , n. ; richard iii, version of, iii. , n. ; richardson's respect for him, ii. ; iii. ; vanity, iii. ; walpole praises his character, i. , n. ; his _apology_, iii. , n. ; and his acting, iv. , n. ; whig, violent, iii. , n. . cibber, theophilus, edits the _lives of the poets,_ i. ; iii. - , ; death, iii. , n. . cibber, mrs. (wife of theophilus), account of her, v. , n. ; acted in irene, i. ; mentioned, ii. . cicero, burke not like him, v. - ; chesterfield likened to him, iii. ; image of virtue, ii. , n. , ; quotations from _cato major_, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _ep. ad att._, iv. , n. ; _ep. ad fam_., iv. , n. ; _tuscul. quaest_., ii. , n. . circulating libraries, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . city, a, its solitude, iii. , n. . city of lichfield, a county, i. , n. . city of london. see london. city-poet, iii. . civil law, i. . civilised life. see savages, and society. _civility_, ii. ; iii. . _civilisation_, ii. . clanranald, ii. ; allan of clanranald, v. . clapp, mrs., ii. , - . clare, lord, friendship with goldsmith, ii. ; iii. . clarendon, first earl of, _history of the rebellion_, its authenticity, i. , n. ; characters trustworthy, ii. ; character of falkland, iv. , n. ; compared with hume and robertson, v. , n. ; recommended by johnson, iv. ; style and matter, iii. - ; villiers's ghost, iii. ; university of oxford and his heirs, ii. . clarendon press, johnson's letter on its management, ii. , . claret, for boys, in. ; iv. ; gives the dropsy before drunkenness, v. - . _clarissa. see_ richardson, s. clark, alderman richard, member of the essex head club, iv. , ; johnson, letter from, iv. . clarke, rev. dr. samuel, christian evidences, i. ; free-will, ii. ; _homer_, edition of, ii. ; johnson's _dictionary_, not quoted in, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; leibnitz, controversy with, v. ; learning, iv. ; studied hard, i. ; literary character, i. , _n. _ ; orthodox, not, iii. ; v. ; queen caroline wished to make him a bishop, iii. , n. ; _sermons_, ii. , ; iii. ; recommended by johnson on his death-bed, iv. ; unbending himself, fond of, i. . clarke, sir t., i. , n. . claudian, ii. . clavius, ii. . claxton, mr., ii. . clement, william, fellow of trinity college, dublin, i. . clenardus, iv. . _cleone. see _dodsley. _cleonice_, ii. ,_ n._ . clergyman, a, at bath, iv. ; johnson's letter to him, iv. ; extraordinary character, an, iv. , n. ; hopeless ignorance of one, iv. , n. ; one rebuked by johnson, iv. ; a young clergyman, johnson's letter to, iii. . clergymen, can be but half a beau, iv. ; _court_-party, of the, v. , n. ; decorum required in them, iv. ; duties, i. ; elocution, taught, iv. ; english compared with scotch, v. - , ; harrogate, at, v. , _n. _; holy artifices, iii. ; learning, iv. ; library fit for one, v. ; life, their, i. , ; iii. ; men of the world, aping, iv. ; popular election, ii. ; preaching: _see _preaching; sinners in general, ii. . clerk, sir philip jennings, account of him, iv. ; argument with johnson, iv. . clermont, lady, iii. . clients. see law. climate, happiness not affected by it, ii. . clinabs, i. , . clinton, sir henry, iv. , n. . clitheroe, iv. . clive, lord, astonished at his own moderation, iii. , n. ; character by dr. robertson, iii. , ; his chest full of gold, iii. ; destroyed himself, iii. , . clive, mrs., johnson describes her acting, iv. ; v. ; and walpole, h., iv. , n. ; robbed by highwaymen, iii. , n. ; 'understands what you say,' iv. . clothes._ see_ dress. clough, arthur, v. , n. . clough, sir richard, v. . clow, professor, v. , n. . _clubable_, iv. , n. . clubs: almack's, iii. , n. ; arthur's, v. , n. ; boar's head, v. ; british coffee-house, ii. ; iv. , n. ; brookes's, ii. ,_ n._ ; iv. , n. , , n. ; _city club_ at the queen's arms, iv. ; cocoa-tree club, v. , n. ; essex head, account of its foundation and members, iv. - , - ; boswell and johnson at a meeting, iv. ; johnson attacked with illness there, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , , ; eumelian, iv. ; gaming club, iii. ; ivy lane, account of it, i. , , n. , , n. ; lennox, mrs., supper in honour of, i. , n. , , n. ; old members meet in , iv. , - ; johnson's definition of a club, iv. , n. ; literary club, account of it, i. - ; v. ; attendance expected, ii. ; attendances in , ii. , ; althorpe, lord, iii. ; banks, sir joseph, iii. ; beauclerk, described by, ii. , n. ; loss by his death, iii. ; black-ball, exclusion by a single, iii. ; books, some of the members talk from, v. ,_ n._ ; boswell's election: see boswell, literary club; boswell's account of meetings at which he was present, his introduction, ii. ; johnson's apology to goldsmith, ii. ; talk of second-sight and swift, ii. ; mrs. abington's benefit, ii. ; _travels, ossian_, the black bear, and patriotism, ii. ; speakers distinguished by initials, iii. ; johnson's last dinner, iv. ; boswell's reports of meetings generally brief, ii. , n. , , n. ; burke's company lost to it, ii. ; bunbury elected, ii. ; camden lord, black-balled, iii. , n. ; day and hour of meeting, i. , ; ii. , n. , , n. ; iii. , , ; described in by beauclerk, ii. , n. ; dodd sought admittance, iii. ; dunning, john, elected, iii. ; first meeting of the winter, iii. ; fordyce elected, ii. ; foundation, and list of members, i. - , , n ; fox elected, ii. ; talked little, iii. ; garrick elected, i. ; his vanity, iii. , n. ; gibbon elected, i. , n. ; describes it, ii. , n. ; poisons it to boswell, ii. , n. ; goldsmith recites some absurd verses, ii. ; iv. ; he wishes for more members, iv. ; his epitaph to be shown to the club, iii. ; hanged or kicked, members deserving to be, iii. ; hogshead of claret nearly out, iii. ; imaginary college at st. andrews, v. - ; increase of members proposed, iii. ; johnson's attendance in his latter years, iii. , n. ; attends after his attack of palsy, iv. - ; his last dinner, iv. , (for attendances with boswell, see just above, under boswell); dislikes several members, iii. ; his friends of the club, iv. ; his funeral, iv. ; subscriptions for his monument, iv. , ns. and ; incompliance with a _call_, iv. ; mentions the club in a letter, ii. ; reads his epitaph on lady elibank, iv. ; talks of mrs. lennox's play, iv. ; jones, sir w., described by, v. , n. ; motto, its, i. , n. ; name, i. ; v. , n. ; number of members, i. , n. , ; iii. ; palmerston, second lord, black-balled, iv. ; elected, _ib. n._ ; porteus, bishop of chester, black-balled, iii. , n. ; select merit, loses its, ii. , n. l; sheridan, r.b., elected, iii. ; shipley, bishop of st. asaph, elected, iv. , n. ; smith, adam, elected, ii. , n. ; steevens elected, ii. - ; vesey elected, iv. ; vesey's (mrs.) evening parties on club nights, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; nonsense club, i. , n. ; old street club, iii. - ; iv. ; poker club, ii. , n. ; , n. ; tall club, i. , n. ; white's, ii. , n. ; world, the, iv. , n. . coach, post-coach, iii. ; iv. ; heavy coach, iv. . coal-heavers, riots of, iii. , n. . coalition ministry (duke of portland's) formed, iv. , n. ; dismissed, i. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. , , n. . cobb, mrs., ii. , ; iii. ; iv. , . cobham, lord, i. , n. ; iii. ; iv. , n. , , n. . coblentz, ii. , n. . cochran, general, i. , n. . cockburn, baron, iii. , n. . cockburn, dr., iii. , n. . cockburn, lord, civil juries in scotland, ii. , n. ; dundas, henry, viscount melville, ii. , n. ; edinburgh high school, ii. , n. ; edinburgh in the th century, v. , n. ; jeffrey's english accent, ii. , n. ; scotch county electors, iv. , n. ; scotch entails, ii. , n. ; st. giles, edinburgh, v. , n. ; titles of scotch judges, v. , n. . cockenzie, ii. , n. . _cocker's arithmetic_, v. , n. . cock-lane ghost. see ghosts. codrington, colonel, iii. , n. . coffee-house critics, i. . coffey, ----, v. , n. . cofflect, iv. , n. . cohausen, dr., ii. n. . coin, exportation of, iv. - . coke, lord, a mere lawyer, ii. ; his definition of law, iii. , n. ; his painful course of study, iv. . coke, lady mary, i. , n. . col, the old laird of, iii. ; v. , n. . col, alexander maclean, of, the second son, ii. , , . col, donald maclean, the young laird of, account of him, v. - ; the first road-maker, v. , n. ; plans an excursion for johnson, v. ; accompanies him, v. - ; his bowl of punch, v. ; manages the ship in the storm, v. - ; puts a rope in boswell's hands, v. ; _juvenis qui gaudet canibus_, v. ; introduces turnips, v. ; his family papers, v. - ; takes johnson to his aunt's house, v. ; anecdotes of sir a. macdonald, v. ; his house in mull, v. ; deserves a statue, v. ; his father's deputy, v. ; 'a noble animal', v. ; death, ii. - , ; v. ; mentioned, v. , , . colchester, i. ; iv. , n. . colds, catching, ii. , ; v. . cole, henry, iv. , n. . colebrooke, sir g., ii. , n. . coliseum, ii. . collections, the desire of augmenting, iv. . college of physicians, ii. . college tutor, an old, advice to his pupils, ii. . colleges. see oxford. collier, jeremy, censures actors, i. , n.. ; 'fought without a rival,' iv. , n. . collins, anthony, iii. , n. . collins, william, affected the obsolete, iii. , n. ; johnson's affection for him, i. , , n. ; _life by johnson_, i. ; madness, his, i. , n. , , , ; poems, glasgow edition, ii. . colloquial barbarisms, iii. . 'collyer, joel', i. . colman, george, the elder, boswell's belief in second sight, mocks, ii. ; _connoisseur_, starts the, i. ,_ n._ ; ii. , n. ; foote's patent, buys, iii. ; _good natured man,_ brings out the, iii. ; _jealous wife, the_, i. , n. ; johnson, imitation of, iv. - ; literary club, member of the, i. , n. , ; _odes to obscurity_, ii. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; _prose on several occasions_, iv. ; round-robin, signed the, iii. ; shakespeare's latin, iv. ; _she stoops to conquer_, brings out, ii. , n.. ; 'sir, if you don't lie you're a rascal,' iv. ; _student_, contributes to the, i. ; _terence_, translation of, iv. ; westminster school, at, i. , n. . colman, george, the son, aberdeen, a student at, v. , n. ; made a freeman of the city, v. , n. ; dunbar, dr., describes, iii. , n. ; gibbon's dress, describes, ii. , n. ; johnson and gibbon, describes, iii. , n. . cologne, elector of, iii. . colonies, a loss to the community, i. , n. . colquhoun, sir james, v. - . colquhoun, lady helen, v. . colson, rev. mr., garrick and johnson recommended to him, i. ; _gelidus,_ i. , n. . _columbiade, the_, iv. . columbus, i. , n. ; iv. . colvill, lady, v. , - . comb-maker, a punctuating, iii. , n. . _combabus_, iii. , n. . combermere, v. - . combermere, lord, v. , n. . comedy, distinguished from farce, ii. ; its great end, ii. . commandment, ninth, emphasis in it, i. ; in the sixth, i. , n. . commentaries on the bible, iii. . commerce, circulation of, iii. ; effect of taxes on it, ii. ; effect on relationship, ii. ; not necessary to england, ii. . commissaries, ii. , n. ; iii. . common council. see london. common people, inaccuracy in thoughts and words, iii. ; their language proverbial, ib. common prayer book, iv. . commons, doctors', i. , n. . commons, house of. see debates of parliament and house of commons. communion of saints, iv. . community of goods, ii. . commutation of sins and virtues, iv. . companion, the most welcome one, ii. , n. ; a lasting one, iv. , n. . company, good things must be provided, iii. ; iv. ; love of mean company, i. ; of a new person, iv. . see johnson, company. compiegne, ii. . complaints, iii. . _complete angler_, i. , n. . _complete vindication of the licensers of the stage_, i. . compliments, offending the company by them, iv. ; right to repeat them, iii. ; without violating truth, iii. ; unusual, v. , n. . composition, causes of hasty, i. , n. ; errors caused by partial changes, iv. ; fine passages to be struck out, ii. ; happy moments for it, v. ; johnson's advice, iii. ; v. - ; man writing from his own mind, ii. ; pleasure, not a, iv. , n. ; practised early, to be, iv. ; setting oneself doggedly to it, v. , . see johnson, composition. _compositor_, iv. , n. . compton, bishop of london, iii. , . _comus_, johnson's prologue to, i. . concanen, matthew, v. , n. . conceit of parts, iii. . _conceits_, i. . _concoction_, of a play, iii. . condamine, la, _account of the savage girl_, v. ; of a brazilian tribe, v. . condÉ, prince of, ii. , . condescension, iv. . conduct, gradations in it, iv. ; wrong but with good meaning, iv. . _conduct of the ministry_ ( ), i. . confession, ii. ; iii. . _conf. fab. burdonum_, ii. . confinement, iii. . confucius, i. , n. ; iii. . _congé d'élire_, iv. . congleton, v. . _conglobulate_, ii. . congress. see america. congreve, rev. charles, chaplain to archbishop boulter, i. ; pious but muddy, ii. , , congreve, william, _beggar's opera_, opinion of the, ii. . n. ; collier, jeremy, attacked by, iv, , n. ; islam, at, iii. ; johnson's criticism on his plays, iv. , n. ; _life_, iv. ; _mourning bride_, its foolish conclusion, i. , n. ; compared with shakespeare, ii. - , ; _old bachelor_, iii. ; pope's _iliad_ dedicated to him, iv. , n. ; _way of the world_, i. , n. ; ii. ; writings, his, make no man better, i. , n. . conington, professor, goldsmith's epitaph and johnson's latin, iii. , n. . conjectures, how far useful, ii. . conjugal infidelity, ii. ; iii. , . _connoisseur, the_, i. ; ii. , n. . connor, ----, (conn), a priest, v. , n. . conscience, defined by johnson, ii. ; liberty of it, ii. . _conscious lovers_, i. , n. . _considerations on the case of dr. trapp's sermons. see_ dr. trapp. _considerations on corn_. see under corn. _considerations on the dispute between crousaz and warburton_, i. . _considerations upon the embargo_, i. . consolation, ii. . _consort_ defined, i. , n. . const, mr., iii. , n. . constantinople, iv. . constituent, iv. , n. . constitution, johnson asked to write on it, ii. . constitutional society, iii. , n. . _construction of fireworks_, v. , n. . constructive treason, iv. . _contemplation_, v. , n. . content, nobody is content, iii. . conti, prince of, ii. , n. . _continuation of dr. johnson's criticism on the poems of gray_, iv. , n. . _continuity_, iii. , n. . contradiction, iii. ; iv. . controversies, ii. ; iii. . convents. see monasteries. _conversable_, v. , n. . conversation, coming close to a man in it, iv. ; contest, not animated without a, ii. ; is a contest, ii. ; eminent men often have little power in it, iv. ; envy excited by superiority, iv. ; game, like a, ii. ; johnson's description of the happiest kind, ii. ; iv. ; knowledge got by reading compared with that got by it, ii. ; old and young, of the, ii. , , n. ; praise instantly reverberated, v. ; requisites for it, iv. ; rich trader without it, iv. ; solid, unsuitable for dinner parties, iii. ; talk, distinguished from, iv. . see johnson, conversation. _conversation between his most sacred majesty_, etc., ii. , n. . conversions, ii. ; iii. . convict, a, unjustly condemned to death, ii. , n. . convicts, punished by being set to work, iii. ; religious discipline for them, iv. ; sent to america, ii. , n. . convocation, i. ; iv. . conway, general, ii. , n. . conway, mr. moncure, i. , n. . cook, captain, boswell meets him, iii. ; hawkesworth's edition of his _voyages_, ii. , n. ; iii. ; iv. . cook, professor, of st. andrews, v. . cooke, thomas (_hesiod_ cooke), v. . cooke, thomas, the engraver, iv. , n, . cooke, william (_conversation_ cooke), ii. , n. ; iv. , . cookery, mrs. glasse's cookery, iii. . see johnson, cookery. cooksey, john, ii. , n. . cooley, william, i. . cooper, john gilbert, last of the _benevolists_, iii. , n. ; story of his sick son, ib.; johnson the caliban of literature, calls, ii. ; anecdote of--and garrick, iv. ; 'punchinello,' ii. . cooper, m., a bookseller, v. , n. . coote, sir eyre, account of him, v. , n. ; travels in arabia, v. . coote, lady, v. - . copenhagen, v. , n, . copley, john, iv. , n. . copper works, at holywell, iii. ; v. . _copy_, manuscript for printing, iii. , n. . copy-money, in italy, iii. . copy-right, act of queen anne, i. , n. ; iii. iii. ; debate on the copy-right bill, i. , n. ; donaldson's invasion of supposed right, i. ; judgment of the house of lords, ib.; ii. , n, ; iii. ; opinion of the scotch judges, v. , ; thurlow's speech, ii. , n. ; honorary copy-right, iii. ; johnson's plea for one, i. , n. ; should not be a perpetuity, i. ; ii. ; london booksellers, claim of the, iii. ; metaphysical right in authors, ii. . corbet, andrew, i. , n. , , n. . cordelia, i. , n. . corelli, ii. . coriat (coryat) tom, ii, ; _crudities_, , n. . _coriat junior_, ii. . corke and orrery, fifth earl of. see orrery. corke and orrery, sixth earl of, i. , n. . corn, bounty on corn (irish), ii. , n. ; (english), i. ; iii. ; corn-riots in , . ; iv. , n. ; exportation, prohibited by proclamation, iv. , n. ; last year of it, iii. , n. ; johnson's _considerations on corn_, i. ; iii. , n. ; plentiful in the spring of , iii. ; previous bad harvests, ib., n. ; price artificially raised, iii. , n. . cornbury, lord, ii. . corneille, character of richelieu, ii. , n. ; compared with shakespeare, iv. ; goes round the world, v. . cornelius nepos, iv. . cornewall, speaker, iii. , n. . cornish fishermen, iv. . cornwallis, archbishop of canterbury, iii. . cornwallis, lord, his capitulation, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . _corps_, a pun on it, ii, . corpulency, iv. . correction of proof-sheets, iv. , n. . corsica, antipodes, like the, ii. , n. ; boswell's subscription for ordnance, ii. , n. ; 'dangers of the night,' i. , n. ; france, ceded to, ii. , n. ; genoa, revolts from, ii. , n. , , n. , ; hangman, i. , n. ; johnson declaims against the people, ii. ; _lingua rustica_, ii. ; seneca's epigrams on it, v. ; mentioned, iii. . _corsica, boswell's account of_, johnson's advice about it, ii. ii, ; praise of the _journal_, ii. ; publication and success, ii. ; criticisms on it, ib., n. ; preface quoted, ii. , n. ; translations, ii. , n. , , n. . corte, ii. , , n. ; v. . _corteggianno, il_, v. . 'corycius senex,' iv. . cottage, happiness in a, see rustic happiness. cotterell, admiral, i. . cotterell, mrs., i. , n. . cotterells, the miss, i. - , , . cotton, sir lynch salusbury, v. - . cotton, lady salusbury, v. , n. . cotton, robert, ii. , n. ; v. ; n. , , n. . coulson, rev. mr., ii. , n. ; v. , n. . council of trent, ii. . _council of trent, history of the_, i. , . countess, anecdote of a, iv. . counting, awkward at counting money, iv. ; effects of it, iv. , n. , ; modern practice, iii. , n. ; nation that cannot count, v. . country gentlemen, artificially raise the price of corn, iii. , n. ; disconcerted at laying out ten pounds, iv. ; duty to reside on their estates, iii. , ; hospitality, iv. , ; living beyond their income, v. ; living in london, iv. ; parliament, reason for entering, iii. ; prisoners in a jail, v. ; stewards, should be their own, v. ; superiority over their people, iv. ; tedious hours, ii. ; wives should visit london, iii. . country life, meals wished for from vacuity of mind, v. ; mental imprisonment, iv. ; neighbours, v. - ; pleasure soon exhausted, iii. ; popularity seeking, iii. ; science, good place for studying a, iii. ; time at one's command, iii. . courage, not a christian virtue, iii. ; reckoned the greatest of virtues, ii. ; iii. ; mechanical, ib.; respected even when associated with vice, iv. . couraver, dr., i. , ; iv. , n. . court, attendants on it, i. ; manners best learnt at small courts, v. . court, 'a shilling's worth of court for six-pence worth of good,' ii. . court-mourning, iv. . court of session. see scotland. _court of session garland. see_ boswell. courtenay, john, boswell to make a cancel in the _life_, persuades, i. ; receives his vow of comparative sobriety, ii. , n. ; jenyns, soame, i. ; member of the literary club, i. ; _moral and literary character of dr. johnson_, descriptions of boswell, i. ; ii. ; johnson's english poetry, i. , n. ; in the hebrides, ii. ; humanity, iv. , n. ; latin poetry, i. ; rapid composition, iv. , n. ; _rasselas_, i. ; style and 'school,' i. ; reynolds's dinner-parties, iii. , n. ; strahan, rev. mr., iv. , n. ; swift's _tale of a tub_, ii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . ; iv. . courting the great, johnson opposed to it, i. ; his advice about it, ii. . courtney, mr. leonard h., m.p., i. , n. . courtown, lord, ii. . courts of justice, afraid of wilkes, iii. , n. . courts-martial, dicey, professor, on them, iii. , n. ; johnson present at one, iii. ; one of great importance, iv. . covent garden. see london. _covent garden journal_, ii. , n. . coventry, i. ; iv. , n. . coventry, lady, v. , n. ; , n. . coverley, sir roger de. see addison. _covin_, ii. . covington, lord, iii. . cow, shedding its horns, iii. , n. . cowardice, mutual, iii. . cowdry, iv. . cowley, abraham, 'cowley, mr. abraham,' iv. , n. ; dryden's youth, the darling of, iv. , n. ; fashion, out of, iv. , n. ; hurd's _selections_, iii. , ; _imitation of horace_, i. , n. ; johnson meditated an edition of his works, iii. ; ridicules the fiction of love, i. ; writes his _life_, iv. ; life, on, iv. ; love poems, ii. , n. ; _ode to liberty_, iv. , n. ; _ode to mr. hobs_, ii. , n. ; _ode upon the restoration_, v. , n. ; pope, compared with, v. ; vows, on, iii. , n. ; _wit and loyalty_, v. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. . cowley, father, ii. , n. . cowper, earl, iii. , n. . cowper, j. g. see cooper. cowper, william, annihilation, longs for, iii. , n. ; avenues, v. , n. ; beckford and rigby, anecdote of, iii. , n. ; _biographia britannica_, lines on the, iii. , n. ; browne, i. h., anecdote of, v. , n. i; churchill's poetry, admires, i. , n. ; _collins's life_, reads, i. , n. ; _connoisseur_, contributes to the, i. , n. ; dreads a vacant hour, i. , n. ; 'dunces sent to roam,' iii. ; heberden, praises, iv. , n. ; _homer_, translates, iii. , n. ; _john gilpin_, iv. , n. ; johnson's 'conversion,' iv. , n. ; criticism of milton, iv. , n. ; writes an epitaph on, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; recommends his first volume, iii. , n. ; mediterranean as a subject for a poem, iii. , n. ; milton, undertakes an edition of, i. , n. ; omai, the 'gentle savage,' iii. , n. ; overwhelmed by the responsibility of an office, iv. , n. ; pope's _homer_, criticises, iii. , n. ; 'scripture is still a trumpet to his fears,' iv. , n. ; silence, habit of, iii. , n. ; 'the solemn fop,' i. , n. ; 'the sweet vicissitudes of day and night,' v. , n. ; thurlow's character, draws, iv. , n. ; experiences his neglect, ib.; unwins, introduced to the, i. ; westminster school, at, i. , n. ; _whole duty of man_, despises the, ii. , n. . cox, mr., a solicitor, iv. . _coxcomb_, ii. ; iii. , n. ; v. , , n. . coxeter, thomas, iii. , n. ; iii. . coxeter,--, the younger, iii. , iv. n. . coxheath camp, iii. , . crabbe, rev. george, johnson revises _the village_, iv. , n. , . cradock, joseph, account of him, iii. ; garrick at the literary club, iii. , n. ; goldsmith and gray, i. , n. ; _hermes and tristram shandy_ ii, , n. ; johnson at a tavern dinner, i. , n. ; compliment to goldsmith, iii. , n. ; parody of percy, ii. , n. ; words should be written in a book, iii, ; percey's character, iii. , n. ; shakespeare jubilee, ii. , n. ; warburton's reading, ii. , n. . craggs, james, pope's epitaph on him, iv. ; mentioned with his son, i. . craig, ----, the architect, james thomson's nephew, iii. ; v. . cranmer, archbishop, ii, , n. . cranmer, george, ii, , n. . cranston, david, v. . crashaw, richard, iii. , n. . craven, lord, i. , n. . craven, lady, iii. . _creation_, blackmore's, ii. . creator, compared with the creature, iv. - . credulity, general, v. creeds, v. . crescimbeni, i. . crichton, robert, lord sanquhar, v. , n. . crisp, samuel, iv. , n. . _critical review_, account of it, owned by hamilton, ii. , n. ; edited by smollett, iii. , n. ; _critical strictures_ reviewed, i. , n. ; griffiths and the monthly, attack on, iii. , n. ; johnson reviews graham's _telemachus_, i. ; and _the sugar cane_, i. , n. ; description of a valley praised, v. , n. ; lyttelton's gratitude for a review, iv. ; murphy attacked, i. ; payment to writers, iv. , n. ; principles good, ii. ; iii. ; rutty's _diary_ reviewed, iii. ; reviewers write from their own mind, iii. . criticism, examples of true, ii. ; justified, i. ; negative, v. . critics, authors very rarely hurt by them, iii. . see attacks. croaker. see goldsmith. croft, rev. herbert, advice to a pupil, iv. ; _family discourses_, iv. ; _life of young_, his, adopted by johnson, iv. ; described by burke, iv. ; quoted, i. , n. . croker, rt. hon. john wilson. (in this index i give reference only to the passages in which i differ from him.) bentley's verses, change in one of, iv. . n. ; boswell's account of johnson's death, iv. , n. ; boswell's 'injustice' to hawkins, iv. , n. ; burke's praise of johnson's _journey_, iii. , n. ; campbell, dr. t., mistake about, ii. , n. ; 'a celebrated friend,' iii. , n. ; chesterfield's present to johnson, i. , n., ; _edinburgh review_ and his 'blunders,' ii. , n. ; emendations of the text, i. ; iii. , n. ; fitzherbert's suicide, iii. , n. ; fox, lady susan, and w. o'brien, ii. , n. ; homer's shield of achilles, iv. , n. ; johnson's _abridgment of the dictionary_, i. , n. ; debates, i. ; 'ear spoilt by flattery,' i. , n. ; and hon. t. hervey, ii. , n. ; and jackson, iii, n. ; _london_, thales and savage, i. n. ; memory of gray's lines, iv. , n. ; and _the monthly review_, iii. , n. ; and the rebellion of , i. , n. ; reference to lord kames, iii, , n. ; title of doctor, i. , n. ; langton's will, ii. , n. ; lawrences, date of the deaths of the two, iv. , n. ; literary clubs, records of the, ii. n. ; macaulay's criticisms on him, i, , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; , n. ; mayo, dr. and dr. meyer, ii. , n. ; millar, andrew, i. , n. ; proofs and sanctions, ii. , n. ; montagu, edward, iii. , n. ; romney, george, iii. , n. ; sacheverel at lichfield i. ; suppression of a note, iv. , n. ; suspicions about thurlow's letter to reynolds, iv. , n. ; about one of johnson's amanuenses, iv. , n. ; taylors of christ church, confounds two, i. , n. ; walpole, horace, identifies with a celebrated wit, iii. , n. . _croker correspondence_, johnson's definition of _oats_, . , n. ; and pot, iv. , n. ; sarcasms about trees in scotland, ii. , n. ; mistake about the third earl of liverpool, iii. , n. . cromwell, henry, pope's correspondent, iv. , n. . cromwell, oliver, aberdeen, his soldiers in, ii. ; v. ; bowles, w., married his descendant, iv. , n. ; johnson and lord auchinleck quarrel over him, v. ; johnson projects a _life_ of him, iv. ; noble's _memoirs_, iv. , n. ; political principles in his time, ii. ; speeches, his, i. , n. ; trained as a private man, i. , n. . crosbie, andrew, account of him, ii. , n. ; alchymy, learned in, ii. ; compares english with scotch, v. ; scotch schoolmaster's case, ii. . n. ; witchcraft, on, v. ; mentioned, iii. ; v. . crosby, brass, attacked by johnson, ii. , n. ; lord mayor, iii. ; sent to the tower, ib.; iv. , n. . _cross readings_, iv. . crotch, dr. william, iii. , n. . crouch, mrs., iv. . crousaz, john peter de, dispute with warburton, i. ; v. ; _examen of pope's essay on man_, i. . crown, childish jealousy of it, ii. ; dispensing power, iv. , n. ; influence: see influence; power, has not enough, ii. ; revenues, its, ii. , n. ; right to it, iii. - . _crudities_, coryat's, ii. , n. . cruikshank, the surgeon, attends johnson, iv. - , ; ib. n. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; letter from, iv. ; recommends him to reynolds, iv. . crutchley, jeremiah, iv. , n. . cucumbers, v. . _cui bono_ man, a, iv. . cullen, dr., an eminent physician, ii. ; his opinion on johnson's case, iv. - ; on the needful quantity of sleep, iii. ; talks of sleep-walking, v. . cullen, robert, the advocate (afterwards lord cullen), case of knight the negro, iii. , ; a good mimic, ii. , n. ; mentioned, v. - . culloden, battle of, cruelties after it, v. , ; johnson's indifference as to the result, i. ; the news reaches london, v. , n. ; order of the clans, ii. , n. ; pretender's criticism of the battle, v. ; mentioned, v. , , . culrossie,--, v. , n. . cumberland, v. , n. . cumberland, william, duke of, uncle of george iii, cruelties, ii. , , n. ; v. ; attacked by dr. king at oxford, i. , n. ; praised by the _gent. mag_., i. , n. ; shipley, dr., his chaplain, iii. , n. ; mentioned, v. . cumberland, duchess of, iv. , n. . cumberland, richard, bentley on barnes's greek, iv. , n. ; davies's stories, perhaps the subject of one of, iii. , n. ; _dish-clout_ face, iv. , n. ; _fashionable lover_, v. ; _feast of reason_, iv. ; johnson, acquaintance with, iv. , n. ; not admitted into 'the set,' ib.; cups of tea, i. , n. ; dress, iii. , n. ; greck, iv. ; mode of eating, i. , n. ; _observer_, iv. , ; _odes_, iii. ; read backwards, ib., n. ; iv. ; westminster school, at, i. , n. . cumberland and strathern, duke of, brother of george iii, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . cumming, tom, the quaker, account of him, v. , n. ; introduces johnson to a tavern company, v. ; ready to drive an ammunition cart, iv. ; wrote against leechman, v. . cuninghame, alexander, the opponent of bentley, v. . cuninghame, sir john, v. . cunning, v. . cunningham,----, of the scots greys, iv. , n. . curates, scanty provision for them, ii. ; small salaries, iii. . curiosity, mark of a generous mind, i. , iii. , ; two objects of it, iv, . curll, edmund, i. , n. . curlants, iv. . cust, f. c., i. , n. , , n. . cutts, lady, iii. . _cyder_, philips's, v. . _cypress grove_, v. . d. d. o., sir, iv. , n. . dacier, madame, in. , n. . _dacier's horace_, in. , n. . _demonology_, king james's, iii. . dagge, ----, keeper of the bristol newgate, iii. , n. . daillÉ, _on the fathers_, v. . _daily advertiser_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . _daily gazetteer_, ii. , n. . _daily post_, i. . dale, mrs., v. . d'alembert, ii. , n. . dalin, olaf von, ii. . dallas, miss, v. . dallas, stuart, v. . dalrymple, colonel, v. . dalrymple, sir david. see hailes, lord. dalrymple, sir john, attacks the london booksellers, v. , n. ; burnet, criticises, ii. , n. ; complains of attacks on his _memoirs_, v. ; foppery, his, ii. ; johnson, invites to his house, v. ; rails at, v. ; arrives late, v. ; _memoirs of great britain and ireland_, ii. - ; parodied by johnson, v. ; style, 'mere bouncing,' ii. ; praised by boswell, ii. ; mentioned, ii. . dalzel, professor, iv. . dancala, i. . dancing, iv. . danes, colony at leuchars, v. ; in wales, v. . dante, boswell's ignorance of him, iii. , n. ; _purgatory_, quoted, iv. , n. ; resemblance between _pilgrim's progress_ and dante, ii. . danube, ii. , n. . d'arblay, general, iv. , n. . d'arblay, mme. see burney, miss. darby, rev. mr., v. , n. . darippe, captain, v. . darius's shade, iv. . darlington, i. , n. . dartineuf, charles, ii. . dartmouth, lord, i. , n. . darwin, charles, v. , n. . darwin, dr. erasmus, v. , n. . dashwood, sir francis, ii. , n. . dashwood, sir henry, iii. , n. . dates to letters, i. , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. . d'auteroche, count, iii. , n. . davenant, sir william, ii. , n. . davenport, william, strahan's apprentice, ii. , n. . davies, thomas, account of him, i. ; author, success as an, iii. ; bankruptcy, iii. , ; baretti's trial, exaggerated feelings about, ii. ; quarrels with him, ii. ; benefit at drury lane, iii. ; bookseller, his taste as a, iii. , n. ; boswell to johnson, introduces, i. ; iv. ; churchill's lines on him, i. , n. , ; iii. ; sees in the pit, iii. , n. : cibber's genteel ladies, ii. ; 'clapped on the back by tom davies,' ii. ; _conduct of the allies_, ii. ; dinners at his house, ii. ; iii. ; _garrick, memoirs of_. iii. , n. ; garrick, letter to, iii. , n. ; complains of his unkindness, ib.; goldsmith's dislike of baretti, ii. , n. ; 'goldy's' play, talks of, ii. ; v. ; hunter, johnson's schoolmaster, anecdote of, i. , n. ; johnson, accurate observer of, ii. ; candour, iii. , n. ; and foote, ii. ; forgives him, ii. ; laugh, ii. ; letters to him: see johnson, letters; liberality to him, i. ; iii. ; love for him, iv. , ; one of a deputation to, iii. iii; sends pork to, iv. , n. ; talking to himself, i. ; learning enough for a clergyman, had, iv. ; maddocks, the straw-man, iii. , n. ; _miscellanies and fugitive pieces_, ii. ; mounsey and percy, ii. ; portrait by hicky, ii. , n. ; 'potted stories' of a dramatic author, iii. ; quin's saying about january , v. , n. ; shakespeare, representations of, v. , n. ; stage, his earnings on the, iii. ; driven from it, ib., iii. ; 'statesman all over,' ii. ; thane of ross, iv. ; walker's 'distinguished glare,' ii. , n. ; zealous for the _trade_, ii. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , ; ii. , , - , ; iii-- ; iv. . davies, mrs., tom davies's wife, churchill's lines on her, i. , n. , . davies,--, of llanerch, v. . davis, mrs., iv. , n. , . davy, sir humphry, iv. , n. . davy, serjeant, iii. , n. . dawkins, 'jamaica,' iv. . _dawling_, iii. ; _dawdle_, iv. . dawson, george, ii. , n. . dawson's _lexicon_, iii. . day-labourers, wages of, iv. ; v. . dead, form of prayer for the, ii. ; libels on them, iii. ; recommending and praying for them, i. , n. , , ; ii. ; iv. , , n. ; their spirits perhaps present, i. ; why we wish for their return, i. , n. . deaf and dumb, academy for the, v. . dean, rev. richard, ii. . death, act of dying not of importance, ii. ; affectation in dying, v. ; best men most afraid of it, iii. ; browne, sir t., on it, iii. , n. ; business preparation for it, v. ; change beyond man's understanding, ii. , n. ; dispositions on one's death-bed, v. ; 'dying with a grace,' iv. , n. ; fear of it cannot be got over, ii. , ; iii. ; natural to man, ii. ; iii. , , ; v. ; resolution, met with, iii. ; sight, kept out of, iii. ; some die well, few willingly, i. ; sudden death in sin, iv. ; swift dreads it, ii. , n. ; describes what reconciles man to it, iii. , n. ; thinking constantly of it, v. ; violent, i. ; 'a whole system of hopes swept away,' i. , n. . see under johnson, death, dread of. death warrants, iii. , n. ; v. - . _debate on the proposal of parliament to cromwell_, i. . debates of parliament, account of them, i. - , - , - ; written at first by guthrie and corrected by johnson, i. - , , , ; written solely by johnson, i. , - , , ; wrongly assigned to johnson, i. ; authenticity generally accepted, i. , ; chesterfield, speeches attributed to, iii. ; croker's inaccuracy about them, i. ! 'debating,' absence of, i. ; discontinued, i. , n. , ; gent. mag., increased sale of, i. , n. ; house of commons passes resolutions against publication, i. , , ; house of lords 'a court of record,' i. ; 'hurgoes,' 'clinabs,' 'walelop,' 'hon. marcus cato,' i. ; 'pretor of mildendo,' i. ; johnson's conscience troubled, i. , ; iv. ; _debates_ not authentic, i. , - ; rapid composition, i. ; iv. ; successor, i. ; _london magazine_, reports of the, i. , - ; monument to walpole's greatness, i. ; murphy's account of them, i. ; prosecution of cave, i. ; of cooley and the printer of the _daily post_, i. ; of the printers in , iii. - ; iv. , n. ; reports published chiefly in the recess, i. , ; reporters, 'fellows who thrust themselves into the gallery,' i. ; reporting, method of, i. , , , ; seeker's reports, i. , ; 'senate of lilliput,' i. , ; speakers' names disguised, i. ; speeches assigned to pitt and chesterfield, i. ; many thrown into one, i. , - ; sent by the speakers, i. , , ; table of the order of publication, i. ; translated, i. ; unreality, i. ; volumes, collected in, i. ; walpole, unfair to, i. , ; iv. . _debrett's royal kalendar_, iv. , n. . debtor. 'the pillow of a debtor,' iv. , n. . debts, carelessly contracted and rapidly swelling, iii. ; for johnson's warnings, see boswell, debts; law of arrest, iii. ; small and great, i. . _decay of christian piety_, v. . _de claris oratoribus_, iv. . dedications, books written for their sake, iv. , n. ; flattery allowed, v. ; johnson's to all the royal family, ii. ; skill in them, ii. ; _works_ without any, i. , n. ; means of getting money, ii. , n. ; one scholar dedicating to another, iv. , n. ; studied conclusions, v. . _defence of pluralities_, ii. . deffand, mme. du, v. , n. . definition, things sometimes made darker by it, iii. . definitions. see under dictionary, and separate words. de foe, daniel, _captain carleton's memoirs,_ iv. , n. ; _drelincourt on death,_ ii. , n. ; his grandson, iv. , n. ; johnson's praise of him, iii. ; the opposite of him, i. ; _robinson crusoe_, iii. . _deformities of johnson_, iv. - . degeneracy of mankind, ii. , v. . de groot, isaac, iii. . deist, no honest man one, ii. . delany, dr., _observations on swift_, iii. ; iv. ; v. . delap, rev. dr., i. . delay, danger of, i. . _dementat_, iv. , n. . democritus, iv. , n. . demonax, iv. . de morgan, professor, i. , n. . demosthenes, johnson compared with him, i. ; spoke to barbarians, ii. ; to brutes, ii. ; mentioned, iii. ; v. . dempster, george, account of him, i. , n. ; argues for merit, i. - ; boswell, letter to, v. ; boswell's eulogium on him, v. , n. ; _critical strictures_, i. ; johnson's conversation, struck with, i. ; dines with, ii. ; _journey_, praises, ii. ; iii. ; sister, his, iii. ; iv. ; unfixed in his principles, i. ; virtuous and candid, ii. . denbigh, earls of, ii. , n. . denhall in wirhall, v. , n. . denham, sir john, iv. , n. . denman, first lord, ii. , n. . denmark, king of, v. . denmark, queen of, ii. , n. . dennis, john, criticisms on _blackmore_ and _cato_, iv. , n. ; on _cato_, iii. , n. ; on shakespeare, i. , n. _ _; _critical works_ worth collecting, iii. ; his thunder, iii. , n. . denton, judge, ii. , n. . _depeditation_, v. . depopulation, ii. , n. . de quincey, account of bishop watson, iv. , n. ; criticises johnson's _vanity_, &c., i. , n. ; praises his latin, i. , n. . _derange_, iii. , n. . derby, account of it in , i. , n. ; highlanders there in , iii. ; v. , n. ; johnson and boswell visit it in , iii. ; see the china-manufactory, iii. ; silk-mill, iii. ; v. ; johnson married there, i. , n. , ; mentioned, iii. , , n. ; iv. . derby, fifteenth earl of, v. , n. . derby, rev. mr., iii. . derbyshire, ii. . derrick, samuel, boswell's 'first tutor,' i. ; his 'governor,' iii. ; introduced him to davies, iv. , n. ; dryden's _miscellaneous works_, edits, i. , n. ; home's parody on him, i. ; _humphry clinker_, described in, i. , n. ; johnson's kindness for him, i. ; v. , ; projected _life of dryden_, gathers materials for, i. ; v. ; lines on, i. ; 'king of bath,' i. , n. , ; _letters from leverpoole_, i. , n. ; v. ; outrunning his character, i. ; presence of mind, i. ; pun about the robinhood society, iv. , n. ; smart, compared with, iv. . description, falls short of reality, iv. . _deserted village_. see goldsmith. des maizeaux, i. . desmoulins, john, johnson's will, witnesses, iv. , n. ; bequest to him, ib.; mentioned, iv. , n. , . desmoulins, mrs., account of her, iii. , n. ; hates levett and williams, iii. , ; johnson allows her half a guinea a week, iii. ; death, present at, iv. ; kitchen under her care, ii. , n. ; house, lodged in, iii. , , n. ; leaves it, iv. , , n. ; not complaining of the world, iv. ; mentioned, i. , , ; ii. ; iii. , , ; iv. , , , , , n. , , n. . despondency, speculative, iv. . despotic governments, iii. . de thou. see thuanus. dettingen, battle of, iv. . devaynes, mr., iv. . _de veritate religionis_, i. , n. . devils do not lie to each other, iii. ; their influence upon our minds, iv. . devonport, i. , n. . devonshire, johnson's trip to, i. l, n. , ; iii. ; militia, its, i. , n. , , n. . devonshire, third duke of, faithful to his word, iii. ; dogged veracity, iii. . devonshire, fourth duke of, ii. , n. . devonshire, fifth duke and duchess of, hospitality to johnson, iv. , ; mentioned, iv. . devonshire, seventh duke of, 'public dinners at chatsworth,' iv. , n. . devonshire, georgiana, duchess of, genius made feminine to compliment her, iii. ; johnson, eager to hear, iii. , n. ; painted in the same picture with him, iv. , n. . devonshire family, ii. . devotion, abstracted, ii. ; particular places for, iv. . _devotional exercises_. see prayers. devotional poetry. see poetry. de witt, i. . dexterity, deserves applause, iii. . _diabolus regis_, iii. . dial, i. . _dialogues of the dead_, ii. . diamond, ----, an apothecary, i. ; iii. . _diary, the_, iv. , n. . _diary of a visit to england in _, ii. , n. . dibden, charles, ii. . dicey, professor, _law of the constitution_, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . dick, sir alexander, gold medal for rhubarb, iv. , n. ; hospitality, his, iv. ; johnson consults him about his health, iv. - ; letter to, iii. , ; meets, v. , , . dick, ----, a messenger, v. . 'dick wormwood,' ii. , n. . dickens, charles, iv. , n. . dictionary, might be compiled from bacon, iii. ; from elizabethan authors, iii. , n. ; 'perfection' of one, i. , n. ; pronunciation, of, ii. ; scotland, of words peculiar to, ii. ; watches, like, i. , n. . _dictionary, johnson's_, account of it, i. - , - , - ; _abridgement_, i. , n. , , n. , , n. . ; in lord scarsdale's dressing-room, iii. ; accents of words, ii. ; authors quoted, i. ; iv. , , n. ; bacon often quoted, iii. ; birch, dr., on it, i. ; bound and lettered, i. ; commencement, date of its, i. , n. ; composition, its, i. - ; deficiency of previous, i. , n. ; definitions, erroneous, i. ; definitions, johnson's genius shown in them, i. ; instances of erroneous, i. ; political and capricious, i. - ; iii. ; iv. , n. , : see under separate words; dictionary-makers described, i. , n. ; dictionary-making not very unpleasant, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , , n. ; 'muddling work,' ib.; dodsley's suggestion, i. , ; iii. ; drudgery, v. ; etymologies, i. , ; explanation, difficulty of, i. , n. ; edition, fourth, preparing, ii. , , n. , ; sent to press, ii. , n. , ; published, ii. , ; mentioned, i. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; garrick's _epigram_, i. ; gifford's _contemplation_ quoted, v. , n. ; gough square, compiled in, i. ; harris,_hermes_, praised by, iii. ; honours and praises, i. , ; johnson's portrait, iv. , n. ; johnson's praise of its execution, iii. ; manning, the compositor, iv. ; outlines sketched, its, i. ; particles, changes of the, ii. , n. ; patrons and opponents, i. ; payments, i. , , ; _plan_, dedicated to lord chesterfield, i. ; draft of it, i. , n. ; not noticed in _gent. mag._ i. , n. ; published, i. ; poetry, harder to write than, v. ; preface, i. - ; pronunciation, ii. , n. ; published, i. , ; publishers, i. ; sheridan's, r. b., compliment to it, iii. ; smith, adam, reviewed by, i. , n. ; time taken in writing, i. , , , ; volume ii. begun, i. ; wilkes and the letter _h_, i. ; words, big, i. l ; written in sickness and sorrow, i. , n. ; iv. . _dictionary of arts and sciences_ projected by goldsmith, ii. , n. . diderot, denys, anecdote of hume, ii. , n. ; on acting, iv. , n. . dido, iv. . _dies irae_, iii. , n. . difficulties, raising, iii. , n. . diggs, the actor, i. , n. . dilly family, account of it, iii. , n. . dilly, messrs. edward and charles, booksellers, boswell's _corsica_, publish, ii. , n. ; _conversation between george iii, &c_., ii. , n. ; _life of johnson, ib._; chesterfield's _miscellaneous works_, publish, iii. ; dinners at their house, ii. , ; iii. - , - , - , , n. ; iv. - , _ib., n , , ; v. , n. ; always gave a good dinner, iii. ; hospitality to literary men, iii. ; house, their, no. in the poultry, iii. , , n. ; 'patriotic friends,' their, iii. . dilly, charles, comparative happiness, on, iii. ; johnson, letters from, iii. ; iv. ; milton's _tractate on education_, on, iii. ; quotations for sale, account of, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. ; iv. , . dilly, edward, boswell, letter to, iii. ; boswell parts with him, iii. ; _lives of the poets_, account of the, iii. ; johnson, letter from, iii. . dilly, squire, boswell and johnson visit him, iv. - ; mentioned, i. ; ii. ; iii. , n. . dingley, mrs., iv. , n. . dinner, cost in london in , i. , ; in , i. , n. ; in edinburgh, in , ib.; a measure of emotion, i. ; ii. ; iv. ; waiting for it, ii. ; better where there is no solid conversation, iii. . see johnson, dinners and eating. diocletian, ii. , n. . diogenes laertius, iii. , n. ; iv. . diomed, ii. . dionysius's _periegesis_, iv. . diot, mr. and mrs., v. . _dirleton's doubts_, iii. . _disarrange_, iii. , n. . _discourses on painting by reynolds. see_ reynolds, _discourses_. discoveries, johnson dislikes them, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; walpole describes the harm done by them, v. , n. , , n. . diseases, acute and chronical, iv. . dislike, mutual, iii. . disputes, encouraging, iii. . d'israeli, isaac, barnes's _homer_, iv. , n. ; birch, dr., i. , n. ; campbell's _hermippus redivivus_, ii. , n. ; chatterton and lord mayor beckford, iii. , n. ; churchill's abhorrence of blotting, i. , n. ; davies's taste as a bookseller, iii. , n. ; dedications, ii. , n. ; dennis's thunder, iii. , n. ; du halde's _china_, ii. , n. ; flexney and stockdale, ii. , n. ; guthrie's letter, i. , n. ; hill, sir john, ii. , n. ; johnson's hints for the _life of pope_, iv. , n. ; oldys the author of _busy, curious, thirsty fly_, ii. , n. ; his notes on langbaine, iii. , n. ; pieresc, ii. , n. ; steevens's literary impostures, iv. , n. ; tasker, rev. mr., iii. , n. . dissenters, bill for their relief rejected, ii. , n. ; _country_-party, of the, v. , n. ; taught the graces of language, i. ; tossing snails into their gardens, ii. , n. . _dissertation on the epitaphs written by pope_, i. . _dissertation on the state of literature and authours_, i. . _dissertations on the history of ireland_, i. . _dissertations on the prophecies_, iv. . dissimulation, ii. . distance, of time and of place, ii. . distinctions, all are trifles, iii. ; love of them, i. . _distressed mother_, budgell's epilogue_, i. ; really written by addison, iii. ; johnson's _epilogue_, i. , n. . distresses of others, ii. - . distrust, iii. . _diversions of purley_, iii. , n. . dives, ii. . _divine legation_. see warburton, w. divines, english, iv. , n. . divorces, iii. - . dixey, sir wolstan, i, . doble, mr. c. e., on the authorship of the _whole duty of man_, ii. , n. ; psalmanazar at christ church, iii. . _dockers_, i. . docking, ii. . doctor, title of, i. , n. ; ii. . see johnson, doctor, and dr. memis. doctor in divinity, respect shown to a, ii. . doctors' commons, i. , , n. . _doctrine of grace_, warburton's, v. . dodd, rev. dr. william, account of him, iii. ; allen's kindness to him, iii. ; boswell's anxiety for his pardon, iii. ; canted all his life, iii. ; character, iii. , ; _currat lex_, iv. ; dedication to rev. mr. villette, iii. , n. ; execution, iii. - , ; forgery, guilty of, iii. ; johnson, correspondence with, iii. - , ; describes, iii. , n. ; writes for him _convict's address_, iii. , - , , , n. ; _last solemn declaration_, iii. ; _observations_, iii. , n. , ; _occasional papers_ (conclusion), iii. ; petitions and letters, iii. , , ; and his speech to the recorder, iii. , ; _last prayer_, iii. ; life, longing for, iii. ; literary club, tried to join the, iii. ; magdalen house, chaplain at, iii. , n. ; mind concentrated, his, iii. ; newgate, closely watched in, iii. ; petitions in his favour, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; saint, not to be made a, iv. ; sermons, his, iii. ; _thoughts in prison_, iii. ; 'unfortunate,' iii. , n. ; wesley visits him in prison, iii. , n. ; 'wretched world, not a,' iii. ; mentioned, iii. . dodd, mrs., iii. . doddridge, dr., epigram by him, v. . dodsley, james, i. ; ii. . dodsley, robert, cleans, acted, i. , n. , - ; compared by johnson with otway, iv. ; 'more blood than brains,' iv. ; _collection of poems_, ii. ; iii. , n. , , , n. , , ; iv. ; 'dartineuf's' footman, ii. ; 'doddy,' ii. , n. ; garrick, quarrel with, i. ; goldsmith, dispute on poetry with, iii. ; imprisoned by the house of lords, i. , n. ; _irene_, publishes, i. ; johnson's _dictionary_, suggests, i. , ; iii. ; one of the publishers, i. , ; asks to have the _plan_ inscribed to chesterfield, i. ; _london_ published by him, i. - ; _rasselas_, i. ; _vanity of human wishes_, i. , n. . 'patron,' i. ; _life_ should be written, his, ii. ; _muse in livery_, ii. ; pope, assisted by, ii. , n. ; pope's executors, application to, iv. , n. ; _preceptor_, i. ; _public virtue_, iv. ; wife's death, his, i. ; _world, the_, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , , ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . dodwell, henry, v. . _doggedly_, v. . dogget, thomas, ii. , n. . dogs attack butchers, ii. ; eaten in china and otaheite, ib.; have not power of comparing, ii. . doing nothing, v. . _dolus latet in universalibus_, v. . _domesticated_, i. , n. . _domina de north et gray_, iv. . dominicetti, ii. . donaldson, alexander, boswell's first publisher, i. , n. ; intimacy with him, i. . n. ; copyright case, i. - ; ii . n. . donatus, ii. , n. , , n. . _don belianis_, i. , n. . doncaster, ii. , n. . donne, dr., saw a vision, ii. ; uses the term _quotidian_, v. . _don quixote_, wished longer, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; don quixote's death, ii. . door, 'author concealed behind the door,' i. . _dorando, a spanish tale_, ii. , n. . dorset, third duke of, iv. , n. . dosa, ii. , n. . dossie, robert, iv. . double letters. see post. doughty, the engraver, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . douglas, archibald, (at first archibald stewart, at last baron douglas, of douglas castle), ii. , n. , . douglas, last duke of, v. , n. . douglas, duchess of, v. , n. . douglas, sir james, journey to the holy land, iii. . douglas, james, m.d., editions of horace, iv. . douglas, lady jane, ii. , n. , . douglas, rev. dr. john, bishop of salisbury, british coffee-house club, a member of the, iv. , n. ; church of england, on the discipline of the, iv. ; cock lane ghost exposes the, i. ; goldsmith's lines on him, i. , n. , , n. ; iii. , n. ; _conduct of the allies_, praises the, ii. ; hume, dines with, ii. , n. ; johnson's _london_, anecdote of, i. ; lauder's imposition, i. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; mentioned, i. , , n. , ; ii. , , n. . douglas, sir john, iii. . douglas, lady lucy, v. . douglas cause, account of it, ii. , ; boswell one of the counsel before house of lords, iii. , ; v. , n. ; and the duchess of argyle, v. , ; _essence of the douglas cause_, ii. , n. ; judges' windows broken, v. , n. ; _letters to lord mansfield_, ii. ; 'shook the security of birth-right,' v. . _douglas_, a tragedy. see home, john. dovedale, v. . dover, iv. , n. . dover cliff, shakespeare's description of, ii. . _downed_, iii. , n. . doxy, miss, iii. - . _drake, life of_, i. , n. . drama, the english, characteristics of its dialogue, iv. . draper, the bookseller, iii. . draughts, game of, i. ; ii. , drayton's _polyolbion_, v. , n. . dreams, communication by them, i. ; contest of wit in one, iv. ; prendergast's dream, ii. . _drelincourt on death_, ii. . dresden, i. , n. . dress, effects on the mind, i. ; ii. ; if fine, should be very fine, iv. ; v. . dressing, time spent in, v. . drewry, sir r., ii. , n. . drinking, time it can go on, iii. , n. ; in johnson's youth, v. - ; rule about drinking to another, v. : see drunkenness and wine. _drinking song to sleep_, i. . drogheda, fifth earl of, iii. , n, . dromore, bishop of. see percy. drowning, suicide by, v. . druid's temple, a, v. , . drumgold, colonel, ii. , , . drummond, alexander, _travels_, v. . drummond, dr., iii. , . drummond, george, v. . drummond, william, of hawthornden, _cypress grove_, v. ; _polemomiddinia_, iii. ; jonson, ben, visited by, v. , . drummond, william, bookseller of edinburgh, account of him, ii. ; johnson's letters to him, ii. - ; johnson, meets, v. , , ; his son, iii. , n. . drunkenness, as an art, iii, ; 'elevated,' v. , n. ; its felicity, ii, ; . n. ; iii. , n. ; on a little, iii. . _drury lane journal_, i. , n. . drury lane theatre, _prologue on the opening of_, i. ; iv. . see london, drury lane. dryden, john, _absalom and achitophel_, sale, i. , n. ; quoted, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _all for love_, preface quoted, iv. , n ; _annus mirabilis_, quoted, ii. , n. ; _aurengsebe_, quoted, ii. ; iv. , n. ; bayes in _the rehearsal_, ii. : booksellers' mercantile ruggedness, suffered from the, i. , n. ; borrows for want of leisure, v. , n. ; collier, censured by, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; colleges and kings, lines on, ii. ; _conquest of granada_, quoted, iv. , n. ; dedication, its, v. ; converted to roman catholicism, iv. ; dedications, studied conclusions to his, v. ; 'delighted to tread upon the brink of meaning,' ii. , n. l; _life of_, derrick's 'materials'; see derrick; dignity of his character, known to himself, i. , n. ; _essay of dramatick poesie_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; 'fate after him,' &c., iv. , n. ; 'familiar day,' his, iv. , n. ; foreign words, on, i. , n. ; genius, his conscious, iii. , n. ; hailes, lord, anecdotes of him by, iii. , n. ; _hind and panther_, quoted, iv. ; _indian emperour_, quoted, iii. , n. ; johnson gathered materials for his _life_, i. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. ; writes it, iv. - ; johnson, resemblance in his character to, iv. ; judgment of the public, on the, i. , n. ; juvenal, dedication to his, iv. ; latin line wrongly attributed to him, iii. , n. ; _life_ not written by contemporaries, v. , n. ; lines on life: see just above, _aurengzebe_; love, fine lines on, ii. ; malone, _life_ by, iii. , n. ; 'mechanical defects,' on, iv. ; _metaphysical poets_, mentions the, iv. ; milton, lines on, ii. ; v. ; johnson's translation, _ib., n_. ; _ode on st. cecilia's day_, iii. ; paid about sixpence a verse for , verses, i. , n. ; pleasing a man against his will, on, iii. , n. ; poets and monarchs, lines on, ii. ; pope, distinguished from, ii. , ; predestination, puzzled about, iii. ; prefaces, his, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _prologue to the tempest_, quoted, i. ; prologues, his, ii. ; rhyming tragedies, iv. , n. ; _rival ladies_, quoted, iii. , n. ; royal society, lines on the, ii. ; settle, elkanah, rivalry with, iii. ; shakespeare, admiration of, ii. , n. ; _she stoops to conquer_, its title taken from him, ii. . n. ; 'shorn of his beams,' iii. , n. ; style, distinguished by his, iii. ; traded in corruption, i. , n. ; virgil, translation of, iii. ; will's coffee-house, at, iii. ; zimri, character of, ii. . du bos, ii. . duck, epitaph on a, i. . ducket, george, i. , n. . ducking-stool, iii. . dudley, lord, v. . dudley, sir henry, (_alias_ rev. henry bate), iv. , n. . duel, trial by, v. . duelling, defended by johnson and oglethorpe, ii. ; by johnson as being as lawful as war, ii. ; as self-defence, iv. ; his serious opinion not given, ib., n. ; could not explain its rationality, v. ; thomas, colonel, killed in one, iv. , n. ; _tom jones_, the lieutenant in, ii. . dufferin, fifth earl of, i. , n. . dugdale, william, sunday work in harvest, iii. , n. . du halde, _description of china_, i. , ; ii. ; iv. . duke, richard, iv. , n. . duke, an english one nothing, i. ; weighed against a genius, i. . dull, fellow, a, ii. ; magistrate, iv. . _dum vivimus, vivamus_, v. . dun, rev. mr., v. . dunbar, dr., johnson introduces him to boswell, iii. ; described by mackintosh and colman, ib., n. ; v. . duncan, dr., ii. , n. . dunces, ii. . duncombe, william, iii. . dundas, lord president, ii. , n. , , n. ; iii. . dundas, henry (viscount melville), account of him, ii. , n. ; boswell's malice against him, iii. , n. ; george iii, and a baronetcy for an apothecary, ii. , n. ; government of india bill, iv. , n. ; knight, the negro, case of, iii. ; literary property case, i. ; palmer and muir's case, iv. , n. ; robertson, a jaunt with, iii. , n. ; scotch accent, his, ii. ; iii. ; serfdom in scotland, on, iii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . dundee, john, viscount of, v. , n. . 'dungeon of wit,' v. . dunkirk, iii. . dunmore, fourth earl of, v. , n. . dunning, john (first lord ashburton), business, his way of getting through, iii. , n. ; devonshire accent, ii. ; 'great lawyer, the,' iii. ; influence of the crown, motion on the, iv. , n. ; johnson, willing to listen to, iii. ; _letter to mr. dunning on the english particle_, iii. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; elected, iii. ; loughborough, lord, afraid of him, iii. , n. ; reynolds's dinner parties, describes, iii. , n. ; somerset's case, in, iii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. . dunsinnan, lord. see nairne, william. dunstable, v. . _dunton's life and errors_, iv. . _dupin's history of the church_, iv. . duppa, bishop, _holy rules_, iv. , n. . duppa, r., edits johnson's _journey into north wales_, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . _durandi rationale officiorum divinorum_, ii. , n. ; v. . _durandi sanctuarium_, ii. . _durham on the galatians_. v. . durham (city), iii. , n. , ; v. , n. . durham (county), militia bill of , i. , n. . dury, lieutenant-colonel, i. , n. . dury, major-general, i. , n. . dutch. see holland. dyer, sir james, i. . dyer, john, _fleece, the,_ ii. ; s. dyer's portrait passed off as his, ib., n. . dyer, samuel, account of him, iv. , n. ; hawkins's character, draws, i. , n. ; hawkins slanders him, i. , n. ; ivy lane club, member of the, iv. ; johnson buys his portrait, iv. , n. ; _junius,_ suspected to be, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. , n. , , , n. ; ii. ; held in high estimation, iv. - ; mathematician, a, v. ; reynolds's portrait of him, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . dying. see death. e. _eagle and robin redbreast,_ i. , n. . early habits, ii. . early rising. see under boswell, early rising, and johnson, rising. earthquake, at lisbon, i. , n. ; in staffordshire, iii. . east indians, barbarians, iii. . east indies, johnson receives a letter thence, iii. , ; once thought of going there, iii. ; quest of wealth, iii. ; scotch soldiers refuse to go there, v. , n. . see india. easter. see under johnson. easter to whitsuntide, propitious to study, ii. . easton maudit, i. ; iii. , . eating. see under johnson. eccles, mr., an irish gentleman, i. . _ecclesiastes,_ iv. , n. . ecclesiastical censure, iii. , . economy, anxious saving, ii. ; art of--, iii. , ; blundering--, iii. . eddystone, i. . edensor inn, iii. . edial, i. ; ii. . _edinburgh magazine and review,_ iii. , n. . _edinburgh review, _campbell's _diary of a visit to england,_ ii. , n. , , n. ; payment to writers in it, iv. , n. . _edinburgh review_ of , i. , n. . _edinburgh royal society transactions,_ iv. , n. . editions of a book, iv. . education, by-roads, ii. ; 'dick wormwood' in _the idler,_ ii. , n. ; fear, use of, i. ; v. ; influence of it compared with nature, ii. ; johnson attacks and defends the 'common way,' ii. , n. ; defends popular--, ii. ; iii. ; his plan, iii. , n. ; locke's plan, iii. ; mill, j. s., on the new system, ii. , n. ; milton's plan, iii. ; 'wonders' performed by him, ii. , n. ; perfection attained in it, ii. ; _refine,_ not to, in it, iii. ; socrates's plan, iii. , n. ; iv. ; what should be taught first? i. . see books, knowledge, learning, schools, and scotland, education, learning, and schools. edward, prince, brother of george iii, iii. , n. . edwards, rev. dr., johnson's letter to him, iii. ; editing xenophon, ib.; death, ib., n. . edwards, jonathan, _on grace_, iii. . edwards, oliver, johnson, meets, iii. - ; iv. ; sends him _the rambler_, ib; tried philosophy, iii. . edwards, thomas, _canons of criticism_, i. , n. . edwin, the comedian, iv. , n. . eel, iii. . eglintoune, alexander, tenth earl of, calls johnson a dancing-bear, ii. ; his character, v. ; death, iii. . eglintoune, archibald, eleventh earl of, iii. , , ; v. . eglintoune, countess of, johnson visits her, v. - ; is adopted by her, iii. ; v, , . _epilogues_, i. . egmont, second earl of, iv. , n. ; v. , n. . egotism, iv. . egotists, iii. . egypt, iii. . egyptians, ancient, iv. . _eighteen hundred and eleven_, ii. , n. . eld, mr., iii. . eldon, earl of. see scott, john. election, general, of , ii. , n. ; of , ii. ; of , iii. ; of , iv. , n. . election-committees, iv. . elections, boroughs bought, ii. ; by nabobs, v. ; lost by vice, iii. ; rascals to be driven out of the county, ii. , . _elegy in a country churchyard_. see gray. _elements of criticism_. see kames. _elements of orthoepy_, iv. , n. . _elfrida_, ii. . elgin, earls of, v. , n. . elibank, patrick, fifth lord, account of him, v. ; boswell, correspondence with, v. , , , ; death, v. , n. ; epitaph on his wife, iv. ; home, patronises, v. ; johnson's definition of oats, i. , n. ; and the great, iv. ; letter to him, v. meets him in edinburgh, v. - , - ; visits him, v. ; power of arguing, iii. ; praises him, iii. ; v. , ; society, loves, v. - ; robertson, patronises, v. ; admires the moderation of, v. ; talk, nothing conclusive in his, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , , , , ; v. . eliot, edward, of port eliot, first lord eliot, chesterfield, lord, praised by, iv. , n. ; dines at sir joshua's, iv. , ; goldsmith, sarcasm on, ii. , n. ; harte, dr., his tutor, iv. , ; johnson and the graces, iii. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; iv. ; _latiner_, story of a, iv. , n. ; _young_ lord, a, iv. . eliza, epigram to. see mrs. carter. elizabeth, madame, ii. . elizabeth, queen, authors of her age, iii. , n. ; fashion to exalt her reign, i. ; had learning enough for a bishop, iv. . ellenborough, first lord, iv. , n. . elliock, lord, iii. . elliot, sir gilbert, third baronet, ii. . elliot, sir gilbert, fourth baronet (afterwards first earl of minto), ii. , n. . elliot, mr., i. . elliot,--, iii. , n. . ellis, sir henry, i. , n. ; v. , n. . ellis, 'jack,' a scrivener, iii. . ellis, welbore, ii. ; n. . ellis, mr., ii. . ellsfield, i. , . elocution, iv. . elphinston, james, _forty years correspondence_, ii. ; johnson, letters from: see johnson, letters; _martial_, translation of, iii. ; manner, his, ii. ; iii. ; mother, loses his, i. ; _rambler_, brings out a scotch edition of the, i. ; translates the mottoes, i. ; reading books through, on, ii. ; school, his, ii. , ; mentioned, ii. . elphinstone, bishop, v. . elrington, bishop, ii. , n. . _elvira_, i. . elwall, e., ii. , . elwallians, ii. . elwin, rev. w., pope's _universal prayer_, iii. , n. . _embellishment_, iii. . emigration, complaints of it, iii. ; effects of it on population, iii. ; on happiness, v. ; caused by oppressive landlords, ib. n. ; immersion in barbarism, v. . see scotland, highlands, emigration. eminent public character, an, ii. . emmet, mrs., ii. . emphasis. see commandment. employments, their end is to produce amusement, ii, . emulation, i. ; v. . enghien, duke of, ii. , n. . england, air too pure for slaves to breathe in, iii. , n. ; condition ( ), 'difficulty very general,' iii. ; ( ) seems to be sinking, iv. , n. ; ( ) all things as bad as they can be, iv. ; dreadful confusion, iv. : times dismal and gloomy, iv. , n. ; corsica, treatment of, ii. , n. ; common people, courage of the, iii. , n. ; cruelty to black men, ii. ; englishman to a frenchman, proportion of an, i. ; felicity in its inns, ii. ; genius and learning little respected, iv. , n. ; government loan raised at per cent. in , iii. , n. ; history of it scarcely credible, v. ; knowledge of the common people, ii. , n. ; language injured by foreign words, iii. , n. ; literature: see literature; lost, found by the scotch, iii. ; loyal in general, ii. ; poor, provision for the, ii. ; reason and soil best cultivated, ii. ; reign of terror, a kind of, iv. , n. ; reserve, english, iv. , ; roads, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; slave trade, upholds the, ii. ; stature of the people not lessened, ii. . _england's gazetteer_, iv. . _english humourists_, i. , n, . _english malady, the_, i. ; iii. , n. . _english poets, bell's_, ii. , n. . english prose. see style _englishman in paris_, ii. , n. . entails, advantage of them, ii. ; barony of auchinleck, ii. - ; johnson's letters on it, ii. - ; limits should be set, ii. - ; nobles must be kept from poverty, ii. , n. ; v. . enthusiasm, of curiosity, iii. ; in farming, v. . enthusiast, by rule, iv. . _enucleated_, iii. . envy, all men naturally envious, iii. . epicharmus, ii. , n. . epictetus, v. . epicurean in _lucian_, iii. . epigram, judge of an, iii. . episcopacy, iii. ; iv. . see bishops and hierarchy. _epistle of st. basil_, iv. . epitaphs addressed to the passersby, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; latin for learned men, iii. , n. ; v. , ; man killed by a fall, on a, iv. ; mixed languages or styles, iv. ; the writer not upon oath, ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. . _epitaphs, essay on_, i. , ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. . _epocha_, iii. . epsom, iii. . equality of mankind, would turn men into brutes, ii. ; none happy in it, iii. ; mercy abolished by it, iii. , n. ; natural, ii. ; n. , ; iii. . see subordination. _equitation_, v. . erasmus, _adagiorum chiliades_, iv. , n. ; _battologia_, v. ; _ciceronianus_, iv. ; dutch epitaph on him would be offensive, iii. , n. ; epigram on him, v. ; _letter to the nuns_, v. ; _militis christiani enchiridion, iii. , n. ; _manita paedagogica_, quoted, i. , n. . errol, earls of, their property, v. , n. , , n. . errol, thirteenth earl of, account of him, v. ; says grace with decency and sees the hand of providence, v. ; his drinking, iii. , n. , ; v. ; educates a surgeon, v. ; portrait by reynolds, v. . errol, lady, v. - , , . error, taking delight in, iv. . erse. see ireland and scotland, highlands, erse. erskine, hon. andrew, _correspondence with james boswell, esq., i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; _critical strictures_, i. ; poet and critick, iii. . erskine, lady anne, v. . erskine, hon. archibald, v. . erskine, sir harry, i. . erskine, hon. henry, v. , n. . erskine, hon. thomas (afterwards lord erskine), account of him, ii. , n. ; johnson, meets, ii. - ; richardson tedious, finds, ii. ; sermons, preached two, ii. . erskine, rev. dr., v. . esau's birthright, i. . _esdras_, ii. , n. . esquimaux, ii. . esquire, title of, i. ; ii. , n. . _essay on account of the conduct of the duchess of marlborough_, i. . _essay on architecture_, i. . _essay on death_, ii. , n. . _essay of dramatick poesie_, i. , n. . _essay on epitaphs. see_ epitaphs. _essay on milton's use and imitation of the moderns in his paradise lost_, i, . _essay on the future life of brutes_, ii. , n. . _essay on the origin of evil. see_ king, archbishop. _essay on truth. see_ beattie, dr. _essay on wit, humour, and ridicule_, iv. , n. . _essays on the history of mankind_, iii. , n. . _essays on husbandry_, iv. , n. . essex, club in one of the towns, i. ; militia, i. , n. . essex, arthur capel, first earl of, v. , n. . essex, robert devereux, second earl of, advice about travelling, i. ; _queen elizabeth's champion_, written in his honour, v. . estate, residence on it a duty, iii. , ; settling, supposed obligation in, ii. ; succession in ancient estates, ii. ; in those got by trade, ib. este, house of, i. . eternal punishment, iii. . eternity, v. . ethics, ii. , n. . etna, strata of lava, ii. , n. . eton college, boswell places his son there, iii. ; dines with the fellows, v. , n. ; boys cowed there, iii. , n. ; line attributed to a boy, iii. ; macdonald, sir james, a pupil, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; porson on eton boys, i. , n. ; walpole, horace, revisits it, iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. ; iv. ; v. . _etymologicon lingua; anglicanae_, i. , n. . _etymologicum anglicanum_, i. , n. . etymologies. _see dictionary_. eugene, prince, ii. . _eugenio,_ i. ; ii. . eumelian club, iv. . euphranor, iv. , n. . eupolis, iii. , n. . euripides, agamemnon in _hecuba_, v. ; armorial bearings, ii. ; 'every verse a precept, ii. , n. ; fragments, iv. , n. ; barnes's edition, ib.; johnson reads him, i. , ; iv. ; markland's edition, iv. , n. ; quoted, i. ; mentioned, iv. . _european magazine,_ i. , n. . eutropius, ii. . _evangelical history harmonized,_ iv. , n. . evans, dr., epigram on marlborough, ii. . evans, evan, addicted to strong drink, v. . evans, john, i. , n. . evans, lewis, _map, &c., of the middle colonies_, i. . evans, thomas, bookseller, ii. . evans, mr., iii. . _evelina. see_ miss burney. _evening post,_ iv. , n. . everlasting punishment, iv. . _every island is a prison_, iii. ; v. . evil, origin of, v. , . evil spirit, personality of the, v. , n. . evil spirits, their agency, v. . exaggeration, causes of it, iii. ; checked by arithmetic, iv. , n. ; instances of it--depths of places filled up, v. ; earthquake at lisbon, i. , n. ; editions of _thomas à kempis_, iii. , n. ; opera girls in france, iv. . _examen of pope's essay on man_, i. . _examiner, the_ ( ), iv. , n. . excellence, how acquired, iv. , n. . excise, commissioners of, i. , n. . excise, defined, i. ; origin of johnson's violence against it, i. , n. . _excursion, the,_ ii. . executions, account of the capital convictions in - , iv. , n. , , n. , , n. ; boswell's love of seeing them: see under boswell; condemnation sermon at oxford, i. ; capital punishment, cruel instance of, i. , n. ; newgate, removed to, iv. ; _rambler_, mentioned in the, iv. , n. ; tyburn, procession to, iv. - . executors, v. . exercise, defined, iv. , n. ; relief for melancholy, i. , ; renders death easy, iv. , n. . exeter, city and county, i. , n. ; freedom given to chief justice pratt, ii. , n. ; george iii visits it, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. . exeter, dr. ross, bishop of, iv. . exhibition. see royal academy. existence, complaints of existence being imposed on man, iii. ; terms on which it is offered, iii. . see life. expectations, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . expenditure. see economy. experience, great test of truth, i. . _explanatory notes on paradise lost_, i. , n. . extraordinary characters, ii. . f. _fable of the bees_, iii. , n. , , ns. , , and . _fable of the glow-worm,_ ii. . faction, iv. . facts, mingled with fiction, iv. . _faculty, the_, iii. , n. . fairies, iv. . faden, w., i. , n. ; iv. . fairfax, edward, iv. , n. . fairlie, mr., v. . faith, merit in, iv. . falconer, rev. mr., iii. . falconer, alexander, v. . falkland, lord, iv. , n. . _falkland's islands, thoughts on the late transactions respecting_, account of it, ii. ; johnson's estimate of it, ii. ; 'softened' in later copies, ii. ; sale delayed by lord north, ii. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. . falmouth, viscount, iii. . _false alarm_, account of it, ii. ; answers to it, ii. ; election committees described, iv. , n. ; johnson's estimate of it, ii. ; petitions described, ii. , n. ; rapidly written, i. , n. , , n. ; wilkes, answer attributed to, iv. ; wilkes attacked, iii. , n. ; iv. . false cries, transmitted from book to book, iii. . _false delicacy_, ii. . falsehood, due mostly to carelessness, iii. , , n. ; prevalence of it, iii. . falstaff, beauclerk adopts his 'humorous phrase,' i. ; 'i deny your major,' iv. ; proved no coward, iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. . fame, general desire for it, iii. ; literary, hard to get, ii. ; a shuttlecock, v. ; solicitude about it, i. . families, great, chaplains and state servants, ii. ; continuance of them, ii. ; desire to propagate the name, ii. ; estate, living on the, iii. , ; founding one, ii. ; household, number in the, iii. ; preference shown them, ii. ; ruined by extravagance, ii. . see under boswell and johnson, birth. family, affected by commerce, ii. . fancies, apprehensions, fanciful, i. ; iii. . see_ boswell, fancies. fancy, compared with reason, ii. . _fantoccini_, i. . farmer, dr., colman, criticised by, iv. ; _essay on the learning of shakspeare_, iii. ; johnson praises it, ib., n. ; letters to him, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; percy, in his _ancient ballads_, helps, iii. , n. ; steevens, friendship with, iii. , n. ; _tristram shandy_, despises, ii. , n. ; mentioned, iv. . farmers, worthless fellows, often, iii. ; described by wesley, ib., n. . farquhar, george, johnson's opinion of his writings, iv. . _see beaux stratagem_. _fashionable lover_, v. . fasting, examined medically, ii. - ; justified, ii. , n. ; peevishness caused by it, ii. : see johnson, fasting. fat men, iv. . fate. see free will. father, control over his daughters in marriage, iii. ; not bound to tell of his children's faults, iii. . _father's revenge, the_, iv. . faulder, a bookseller, iv. , n. . faulkner, g., chesterfield's account of him, v. , n. ; ireland drained by england, v. ; mimicked by foote, ii. ; v. ; mentioned, i. . fawkener, sir everard, i. , n. . fawkes, rev. francis, i. . favour, granting a, ii. . favourite defined, i. , n. . fear, charles v's saying, ii. ; nothing left to fear when a man is bent on killing himself, ii. . see courage. feeling for others. see sympathy. _felixmarte of hircania_, i. . fell, john, _demoniacs_, v. , n. . _fellow_, ii. . fencing, v. . fÉnelon, archbishop, v. , n. , . fenton, elijah, his advice to gay, v. , n. ; mariamne, i. , n. ; non-juror, a, ii. , n. . ferguson, james, the self-taught philosopher, ii. ; v. . ferguson, james, a scotch advocate, iii. , , n. . fergusson, dr. adam, account of him, v. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; v. . fergusson, sir adam, ii. . fermor, arabella, ii. , n. . fermor, mrs., the abbess, ii. . ferne, mr., v. - . ferney, i. ; v. . ferns, burke's pun on, iv. . _festivals and fasts_, ii. . feudal antiquities, ii. ; iii. . 'feudal gabble,' ii. , n. . feudal system, boswell for, and johnson against it, ii. - ; v. ; johnson has the old feudal notions, iii. ; male succession, origin of, ii. , ; ridiculed by smollett, v. , n. . fiction, small amount of real, iv. . fiddlers, ii. . fiddling, dangerous fascination, iii. ; little thing, but not disgraceful, iii. ; power of art shown in it, ii. . fielding, henry, alms-giving, on, ii. , n. , , n. ; _amelia_, dedicated to ralph allen, v. , n. ; johnson reads it at a sitting, iii. : complains of the heroine's broken nose, ib., n. ; richardson could not read it, ii. , n. ; 'sad stuff,' iii. , n. ; sale rapid, ib.; description of a _buck_, v. , n. ; westminster round-house, i. , n. ; attacks on authors, on, v. , n. ; blockhead, a, ii. ; barren rascal, a, ii. ; burney, miss, admired by, ii. , n. ; _champion, the_, i. , n. ; died at lisbon, iv. ; foreigners, not understood by, ii. , n. ; gibbon's tribute to him, ii. , n. ; hospitals, on, iii. , n. ; johnson praises him, ii. , n. : see above, _amelia_, blockhead, and below, _tom jones; _jonathan wild_, compared with st. austin, iv. ; hockley in the hole, iii. , n. ; _joseph andrews_, never read by johnson, ii. ; parson adams, the original of, iii. , n. ; _cato_ and _the conscious lovers_, praised by adams, i. , n. ; richardson, compared with, ii. , , ib., n. ; richardson's description of his heroes, ii. ; of fielding, ii. ; of _tom jones_, ii. , n. ; robinhood society described, iv. , n. ; _tom jones_, boswell praises it, ii. ; johnson despises it, ii. ; more, hannah, read by, ii. , n. ; price paid for it, i. , n. ; allen the original of allworthy, v. , n. ; charity to the poor, ii. , n. ; duelling, ii. , n. ; garrick and partridge, v. ; ghosts never speak first, v. , n. ; soldiers, quartering of, iii. , n. ; squire western on marriage, ii. , n. ; transpire, iii. , n. ; _voyage to lisbon_, i. , n. ; ward, the quack-doctor, praises, iii. , n. ; welch, saunders, succeeded by, iii. ; westminster justice, salary as a, iii. , n. . fielding, sir john, boswell applies to him, i. ; his house pulled down in the gordon riots, iii. . fielding, miss, compared with her brother, ii. , n. . fielding, ----, a bookseller, iv. , n. . fife, earl, v. . fighting-cock, ii. . figurative expressions, in prayers, iv. . filby, john, ii. . fine and recovery, ii. , n. . fine clothes, iv. ; v. . fines, iii. . _fingal_. see macpherson, james. _finnick dictionary_, i. , - . fire, going round the, i. , n. ; superstitious tricks to make it burn, iii. . firebrace, lady, i. . first cause, iii. . fisher, dr., ii. , n. , , n. . fisher, kitty, v. , n. . fishmonger, story of a, iii. . fitz-adam, adam (edward moore), i. , n. . fitzherbert, alleyne (lord st. helen's), i. . fitzherbert, mrs., i. - ; iv. . fitzherbert, william, affected man, dealing with an, iii. ; baretti's trial, at, ii. , n. ; _bon mot_, on carrying a, ii. ; character, his, drawn by johnson, iii. ; and by burke, ib., n. l; felicity of manner, iii. ; foote's small beer, anecdote of, iii. - ; friend, had no, ii. ; iii. ; hanged himself, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. ; johnson in inner temple-lane, describes, i. , n. ; defends in parliament, iv. , n. ; makes a present of wine to, i. , n. ; parliament, elected to, i. ; townshend's, charles, jokes, ii. ; tragedy, anecdote of a, iii. ; mentioned, i. ; iv. , . fitzmaurice, thomas, ii. , n. . _fitzosborne's letters_, iii. ; iv. , n. . fitzpatrick, richard, iii. , n. . fitzroy, lord charles, ii. . fitzwilliam, lord, iv. , n. . flageolet, iii. . flatman, thomas, iii. . flattery, flattered by him whom every one else flatters, ii. ; pleases generally, ii. ; stage, on the, ii. . flea and a lion, ii. ; precedency between a flea and a louse, iv. . _fleece, the_, ii. . fleetwood, bishop, v. , n. . fleetwood, charles, patentee of drury-lane theatre, i. , . fleetwood, everard, iii. , n. . fleming, lady, i. , n. . flexman, rev. mr., iv. . flexney, the bookseller, ii. , n. . flint, bet, iv. . flint, professor, v. . flint,--, v. . flodden field, ii. ; v. . flogging, less than of old, ii. . see rod. flood, right hon. henry, johnson's _debates_, on, i. , n. , ; ii. ; sepulchral verses on, iv. . florence, johnson wishes to visit it, iii. statue of a boar, iii. ; wine, iii. . floyd, thomas, i. . floyer, sir john, m.d., advises the 'regal touch,' i. ; asthma, book on, iv. ; corrupted the register, iv. ; _touchstone of medicines_, i. , n. ; _treatise on cold baths_, i. . fludyer, rev. john, ii. . flying man, iv. , n. . folios, i. , n. . fondness, distinguished from kindness, iv. . fontainebleau, ii. , . fontanerius, paulus pelissonius (pelisson), i. , n. . fontenelle, 'fontenellus, ni falior,' &c., ii. , n, ; mémoires, iii. ; newton, on, ii. , n. ; _panegyrick on dr. morin_, i. . fontenoy, battle of, i. ; iii. , n. . food, production of, ii. . _fool, the_, ii. . fools, latin needful to a fool's completeness, i. , n. ; 'let us be grave, here comes a fool,' i. ; spaniel and mule fools, v. . foote, samuel, baretti's trial, ii. ; bedlam, visits, ii. ; 'black broth,' ii. ; burke, compared with, iv. ; chesterfield, satire on, iv. ; conversation between wit and buffoonery, ii. ; _cozeners, the_, iv. , n. ; death, fear of, ii. ; death, his, iii. , n. , , n. , ; edinburgh, at, ii. , n. ; _englishman in paris_, ii. , n. ; 'foote, _quatenus_ foote superior to all,' iii. _footeana_, iii. , n. ; garrick's bust, iv. ; and the ghost of a halfpenny, iii. ; compared with, iii. , ; v. ; george iii at the haymarket, iv. , n. ; haymarket theatre, gets a patent for, iii. , n. ; 'hesiod' cooke introduces him, v. ; humour not comedy but farce, ii. ; impartiality in lying, ii. ; incompressible, v. ; infidel, an, ii. ; johnson and the french players, ii. ; intended to exhibit, ii. , , n. , ; in paris, ii. , ; pleased against his will, iii. ; regret for his death, iii. , n. , , n. ; witticism, fathered on him, ii. , n. ; knowledge and reading, his, iii. ; law-lord, on a dull, iv. ; leg, loses a, ii. , n. , , n. ; iii. , n. ; _depeditation_, v. ; _life_ of him, by w. cooke, iv. ; macdonald, sir a., should ridicule, v. ; making fools of his company, ii. ; mimic, not a good, ii. ; iii. ; 'monboddo, an elzevir johnson,' ii. n. ; v. , n. ; murphy and _the rambler_, i. ; murphy's account of a dinner at his house, i. ; _nabob, the_, iii. , n. ; _orators, the_, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; patent, sells his, iii. ; _piety in pattens_, ii. , n. ; rising in the world, ii. , n. ; small-beer and the black boy, iii. ; stories, his, dismissed from the mind, ii. , n. ; townshend, charles, surpassed by, ii. , n. ; wit of escape, has the, iii. ; wit under no restraint, iii. ; worcester college, oxford, at, ii. , n. ; wicked pleasure in circulating an anecdote, i. . foppery never cured, ii. . forbes, bishop, v. . forbes, rev. mr., v. . forbes, sir william, and co., v. . forbes, sir william, of pitsligo, sixth baronet, _beattie, life of_, v. , n. , , n. ; boswell's eulogium on him, v. , , n. ; executor, iii. , n. ; children, guardian to, iii. , n. ; journals, reads, iii. ; v. ; letter to, v. ; carre's _sermons_, edits, v. ; errol, lord, account of, v. , n. ; honest lawyers, on the duty of, v. - , ; johnson at garrick's funeral, iii. , n. ; _round robin_, account of the, iii. - ; scott's tribute to him, v. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , , ; v. , , , . forbes, sir william, seventh baronet, v. , n. . ford, cornelius (johnson's uncle), i. . ford, rev. cornelius (johnson's cousin), hogarth's 'parson ford,' i. ; iii. ; johnson's account of him, ib.; his ghost, iii. . ford, dr. joseph, i. , n. . ford family, i. ; pedigree, i. , n. . fordyce, dr. george, member of the literary club, i. ; ii. , ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; anecdote of his drinking, ii. , n. . fordyce, rev. dr. james, i. ; iv. . _foreign history in gent. mag_. i. . foreigner, an eminent, iv. . foreigners, 'are fools,' i. , n. ; iv. ; writing a book in england, ii. ; attaching themselves to a party, ib.: see johnson, foreigners. _forenoon_, changed into _morning_, ii. , n. . forgetfulness, iv. . _form_, iv. . _former, the, the latter_, iv. . formosa, iii. ; v. . _formosa, historical and geographical description of_, iii. . forms, tenacity of, iv. . _formular_, ii. . fornication, heinous sin, not a, ii. ; misery caused by it, i. ; penance for it, v. ; probationer, cause of a, ii. ; a sectary guilty of it, ii. ; should be punished by law, iii. , . forrester, colonel, iii. . forster, george, _voyage to the south sea_, iii. . forster, john, bickerstaff, i., ii. , n. ; boswell's stories, on variations of, i. , n. ; bute's pensioners, i. , n. ; churchill's _rosciad_, i. , n. ; davies and 'goldy,' ii. , n. ; _drelincourt on death_, ii. , n. ; george iii's pensioners, ii. , n. ; goldsmith's assault on evans, ii. , n. ; _good-natured man_, ii. , n. ; quarrel with johnson, ii. , n. , _she stoops to conquer_, and the royal marriage act, ii. , n. ; its production on the stage, ii. , n. ; its title, ii. , n. ; and sterne, ii. , n. ; _traveller_, the first line in, iii. , n. ; inaccuracy about 'hesiod' cooke, v. , n. ; johnson's letter to goldsmith, ii. , n. ; and the prince of wales, iv. , n. ; moore, edward, mistakes for dr. john moore, iii. , n. ; taste, changes in public, iii. , n. . _fort_, a pun on it, ii. , n. . fortitude, iv. , n. . _fortune, a rhapsody_, i. . fortune, wasting a, iii. . fortune-hunters, ii. . forwardness, ii. . fossane, ii. , n. . _fossilist_, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . foster, dr. james, iv. . foster, john, head-master of eton, iv. , n. . foster, mrs., i. . see milton, granddaughter. fothergill, rev. dr. ii. , . foulis, sir james, v. , . foulis, messrs., glasgow booksellers, ii. ; 'elzevirs of glasgow,' v. . _foundling hospital for wit_, iv. , n. . _fountains, the_, ii. , . fowke, mr., iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . fowler, mr., ii. . fox, charles james, boswell on the india bill, iv. , n. ; burnet's style, ii. , n. ; charles ii, descended from, iv. , n. ; 'commenced patriot,' iv. , n. ; covent garden mob, iv. , n. ; described by lord holland, gibbon, mackintosh, and rogers, iv. , n. ; walpole and hannah more, iv. , n. ; fitzpatrick's 'sworn brother,' iii. , n. ; george iii's competitor, iv. ; divides the kingdom with caesar, ; george iii his own minister, i. , n. ; goldsmith's _traveller_, praises, iii. , ; homer, reads, iv. , n. ; india bill, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; johnson's epitaph, iv. ; 'friend,' iv. ; for the king against fox, but for fox against pitt, iv. ; in parliament, defends, iv. , n. ; presence, silent in, iii. ; iv. ; thinks highly of his abilities, iii. ; accounts for his silence in company, iv. ; kirkwall, returned for, iv. , n. ; libel bill, iii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. , , n. ; ii. , ; iii. , n. ; lyttelton, second lord, character of the, iv. , n. ; palmer and muir's case, iv. , n. ; pitt's pertness, iv. , n. ; poetry _truth_, not history, ii. , n. ; reynolds too much under him, iii. ; sandwich's, lord, removal, motion for, iii. , n. ; subscription to the articles, ii. , n. ; _sydney biddulph_, praises, i. , n. ; treasury, dismissal from the, ii. , n. ; westminster election, iv. , , n. . fox, henry. see holland, first lord. fox, lady susan, ii. , n. . fox, mrs., iv. , n. . fox-(faux, or vaux) hall, iv. , n. . fox-hunting, i. , n. . fra paolo. see sarpi. france and the french, academy takes forty years to compile their _dictionary_, i. , , n. ; sends johnson a copy, i. ; on the resistance of the air, v. ; affectation of philosophy and free-thinking, iii. , n. ; americans, assistance to the, iv. ; _ana_, their, v. ; anglomania, ii. ; assembly, iv. ; authors and their pensions, i. , n. ; authors superficial, i. ; commercial policy, masters of the world in, iii. , n. ; commercial treaty, v. , n. ; contented race, v. , n. ; cookery, ii. , ; corsica, government of, ii. , n. ; credulity, v. ; crossroads, ii. ; difference between english and french, iv. ; england, contrasted with, i. , n. ; english language injured by gallicisms, iii. ; 'fluency and ignorance,' iv. , n. ; invasion feared, iii. , , n. , , n. ; 'french maxims abolish mercy,' iii. , n. . garrick's account of their sameness, iv. , n. ; gay people, not a, ii. , n. ; great people live magnificently, ii. ; houses gloomy, ii. , n. ; hunting, v. ; irish, contrasted with the, ii. , n. ; jersey, attack on, v. , n. ; johnson's tour, ii. - ; _journal_, ii. - ; account given by him to boswell, ; made more satisfied with england, iii. ; saw little of french society, ii. , , , n. ; lewis xiv, under, ii. ; literati, v. ; literature, art of accommodating, v, ; book on every subject, iv. ; high in every department, ii. ; little original, v. ; not so general as in england, iii. ; in its second spring, ib.; literary society described by gibbon and walpole, iii. , n. ; magistrates and soldiers, ii. , ; manners indelicate, ii. ; gross, iii. ; habit of spitting, ii. ; iii. ; iv. ; meals gross, ii. ; meat, fit for a gaol, ii. , ; described by smollett as good, ii. , n. ; by goldsmith as bad, ib.; men know no more than the women, iii. ; middle rank, no, ii. , ; military character respected, iii. ; mode of life not pleasant, ii. ; national petulance, ii. ; novels, ii. ; opera girls, iv. ; paris: see paris; peace of , i. , n. ; of - , iv. , n. ; people, misery of the, ii. ; philosophy, pursuit of, iii. , n. ; players, ii. ; politeness, iv. ; poor laws, no, ii. ; prisoners in england, i. ; private life unaffected by despotic power, ii. ; privileges little abused, v. , n. ; provence, gaiety of, ii. , n. ; scotland, compared with, ii. ; sentiments, ii. , n. ; soldiers and a woman, story of some, ii, ; stage, delicacy of the, ii. , n. ; subordination, happy in, v. ; talking, must be always, iv, ; tavern life in no perfection, ii. ; torture, use of, i. , n. ; treatment of indians, i. , n. ; trees along a road, ii. ; words, use big, i. : see under rousseau, smollett, mrs. thrale, h. walpole. france, queen of, flattered, iii. . francis, rev. dr. philip, praises johnson's _debates_, i. ; translates horace, iii. . francis, sir philip, censures burke's style, iii. , n. . francklin, rev. dr. thomas, johnson, inscribes his _lucian_ to, iv. ; murphy, attacks, i. ; _rosciad_, in the, iv. , n. ; _round robin_, did not sign the, iii. , n. . franck, johnson's servant. see barber. franck, post office, ii. ; iv. , n. . franckland, sir thomas, iv. , n. . franklin, dr. benjamin, books bought in his youth, iv. , n. ; books, high price of english, i. , n. ; boswell, dines with, ii. ; civil liberty compared with liberty of trading, ii. , n. ; conversion from vegetarianism, iii. , n. ; england, hypocrisy of, ii. ; georgia, settlement of, i. , n. ; good that one man can do, iv. , n. ; hollis, thomas, iv. , n. ; human felicity how produced, i. , n. ; inoculation, iv. , n. ; johnson's pension and w. strahan, ii. , n. ; lee, arthur, iii. , n. ; life, wished to repeat his, iv. , n. ; loudoun, lord, v. , n. ; man, definition of, iii. ; v. , n. ; mansfield's, lord, house burnt, iii. , n. ; _old man's wish_, iv. , n. ; _pamphlets_, iii. , n. ; paris foundling hospital, ii. , n. ; population, rule of increase of, ii. ; priestly and price, iv. ; pringle, sir john, iii. , n. ; quakers of philadelphia, iv. , n. ; ralph, james, i. , n. ; riots in london in , ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; rise of himself and strahan, ii. , n. ; shipley, bishop, friendship with, iv. , n. ; wilcox, the bookseller, i. , n. ; strahan, letter to, iii. , n. ; whitefield's oratory, ii. , n. ; 'wilkes and liberty,' ii. , n. . franklin, thomas, iii. . n. . fraser, dr., v. . fraser, general, iii. . fraser, mr., of balnain, v. . fraser, mr., the engineer, iii. . fraser, mr., of strichen, v. . frauds, none innocent, ii. , n. . frederick, prince of wales. see under prince of wales. frederick the great, difficulties of his youth, i. , n. ; dressed plainly, ii. ; george ii, quarrel with, iv. ; johnson _downs_ robertson with him, iii. - ; opinion of his poetry, i. ; writes his _memoirs_, i. ; maupertuis, lines to, ii. , n. ; overawes hanover, v. , n. ; power as a despotic prince, ii. ; prose and poetry, i. - ; social, i. ; taken by the nose, risk of being, ii. ; torture, forbade use of, i. , n. ; voltaire, contends with, i. ; v. , n. . frederick-william the first, i. . free agent, iv. . free will, boswell introduces discussion, ii. , ; iii. ; consults johnson by letter, iv. ; 'we know our will is free,' ii. ; iv. ; 'all theory against it,' iii. ; best for mankind, v. . _freeholder_, ii. , n. ; , n. . freeport, sir andrew, ii. . freind, dr., i. , n. . french, mrs., iv. . french cook, a nobleman's, i. . freron, father and son, ii. , . frescati, v. , n. . friend, sir john, ii. . friends, comparing minds, iii. ; example of good set by them, ii. ; few houses to be nursed at, iv. ; future state, in a, ii. ; iii. , ; iv. - ; goldsmith and the story of bluebeard, ii. ; 'he that has friends has no friend,' i. ; iii. , , ; natural, iv. , , n. ; v. ; pleasure in talking over past scenes, iii. ; survivor, the, iii. . friendship, christian virtue, how far a, iii. ; formed, how, iii. ; formed mostly by caprice or chance, iv. ; often formed ill, ii. ; mathematics, not as in, iii. ; neglect of it, iv. ; 'repair,' need of, i. ; rupture of old, v. , ; test, put to the, iii. , . _friendship, an ode_, i. ; ii. . frisick language, i. . froom, iv. , n. . frugality, iv. . fruit, raw, iv. . _frusta letteraria_, iii. . fry, thomas, the painter, iii. , n. . fullarton, of fullarton, iii. . fuller, thomas, his dedications, ii., n. . _fun and funny_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . funds, the, iv. . _further thoughts on agriculture_, i. . future state, boswell leads johnson to discuss it, ii. ; confidence in respect to it, iv. ; due attention to it and to this world, v. ; gloom of uncertainty, iii. ; hope in it the basis of happiness, iii. ; knowledge of friends, ii. ; iii. ; things made clear gradually, iii. . g. gabble, iii. ; iv. . gabriel, don, a spanish prince, iv. , n. . gaelick. see scotland, highlands, erse. gagnier,--, ii. . gaiety, a duty, iii. , n. . galileo, i. , n. . gallicisms, iii. , n. . galway, lady, iv. . gama, iv. . gaming, produces no intermediate good, ii. ; more ruined by adventurous trade, iii. . gaming-club, a, iii. . _ganganelli's letters_, iii. . gaol fever, iv. , n. . garagantua, iii. . garden, a walled, iv. . gardeners, good, scotchmen, ii. . gardenston, lord (f. garden), v. - . gardiner, mrs., account of her, i. , n. ; iv. - ; johnson's bequest to her, iv. , n, ; mentioned, iii. , , n. ; iv. , n. . gardner, t., bookseller, ii. . garret, the scholar's, i. . garrick, captain, i. ; iii. . garrick family, striking likeness in all the members, ii. . garrick, david, abel drugger, iii. ; adelphi, house in the, iv. , ; airs of a great man, iii. ; appealed to by a drunken physician, iii. ; archer in _the beaux stratagem_, iii. ; attacks helped his reputation, v. ; avarice, reputation for, iii. ; baretti's trial, gives evidence at, ii. , n. , ; bickerstaff, i., letter from, ii. , n. ; _bonduca_, epilogue to, ii. , n. ; _bon ton_, ii. , n. ; book of praise and abuse, kept a, v. ; boswell, correspondence with: see boswell, correspondence; boswell's _corsica_, praises, ii. , n. ; boswell slyly introduces his name, iii. ; british coffee-house club, iv. , n. ; brown, dr. john, said to have assisted, ii. ; brought out his tragedies, ib., n. ; budgell's _epilogue_, anecdote of, iii. , n. ; burke's epitaph on him, ii. , n. ; camden, lord, intimacy with, iii. ; _chances, the_, ii. ; characters, acted a great variety of, iii. ; iv. ; was not 'transformed' into them, iv. ; chatham, lord, correspondence with, ii. ; cheerfullest man of his age, iii. ; chesterfield, in wit compared with, iii. ; christmas dinner at his house, ii. , n. ; clive, mrs., compared with, iv. ; clutching the dagger, v. ; colson's academy, at, i. ; _concoction_ of a play, iii. ; congreve and shakespeare, compares, ii. ; conversation, sprightly, i. ; no solid meat in it, ii. ; court, at, i. , n. ; cumberland's _dishclout face_, iv. , n. ; cumberland's _odes_, iii. , n. ; iv ; dane, letter from a, v. , n. ; davies, letter from, iii. , n. ; _davy_, called, v. ; death, his, iii. ; 'eclipsed the gaiety of nations,' i. ; iii. ; decayed actor, will soon be a, ii. ; decent liver, a, iii. ; declaimer, no, iv. ; dodsley, quarrels with, i. ; _douglas_, rejects, v. , n. ; drury-lane theatre, manager of, i. , ; elphinston's _martial_, his opinion of, iii. ; emphasis, wrong, i. ; v. ; epigrammatist, an, iii. ; excellence shown by his getting £ , , iii. ; face, wear and tear of his, ii. ; _false delicacy_, ii. , n. ; father and family, his, iii. ; fine-bred gentleman, fails as a, v. ; first appearance in london, i. , n. ; fitzherbert, affection for, iii. , n. l; _florizel and perdita_, ii. ; foote, compared with, iii. , ; v. ; 'ghost of a halfpenny,' iii. ; witticism about his bust, iv. ; _fortunam reverenter habet_, iii. ; french, sameness of the, iv. , n. ; friends, but no friend, had, iii. ; funeral, iv. ; account of its pomp, iv. ; bishop horne's lines, ib. n. ; the club called the literary club at it, i. ; johnson at his grave, iii. , n. ; generous treatment of authors, ii. , n. ; gentleman, f., letter from, i. , n. ; gibbon, letter from, iii. , n. ; goldsmith's dress, ii. ; _good natured man_, refuses the, ii. , n. ; iii. ; gray's _odes_, i. , n. ; great, courted by the, ii. ; iii. ; _hamlet_ rescued from rubbish, ii. , n. , , n. ; hamlet's soliloquy, iii. ; hawkesworth and lord sandwich, ii. , n. ; hawkins's _siege of aleppo_, iii. ; _high life below stairs_, iv. ; hill, sir john, epigrams on, ii. , n. ; hogarth's account of his acting, iii. , n. ; humour, varying, iii. ; illness, sufferings from, iii. , n. ; inaccurate in delineating absurdities, iv. ; ireland, visits, iii. , n. ; johnson affected by his success, i. , , n. ; ii. ; attacked by garrick's correspondents, ii. , n. ; attacks on him, accounts for, iii. , n. ; awe of, i. , n. ; and chesterfield, i. , n. ; designs to write his epitaph, iv. , n. ; _dictionary_, cited in, iv. ; epigram on it, i. ; as a dramatist, i. , i , n. ; epigram on george ii and cibber, i. ; v. ; epitaph on philips, i. ; in the green room, i. ; hard on him, v. ; imitations of juvenal_, i. ; intercourse with him, iv. ; _irene_, acts, i. - ; suggests the strangling scene in it, , n. ; travels with him to london, i. ; looked upon him as his property, iii. ; let nobody attack him, i. , n. , , n. ; iii. , , n. ; in the lichfield play-house, ii. ; low opinion of his acting, ii. , n. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. ; and of his mimicry, ii. , n. ; mimicks, ii. , ; mow of hay, ii. ; offers to write his _life_, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; 'played round,' ii. ; praises his prologues, ii. ; parody of percy's _hermit_, ii. , n. ; writes him a _prologue_, i. ; iv. ; pupil; i. : into good spirits, puts, iii. , n. ; _rambler_, i. , n. ; reflection on him in his _shakespeare_, ii. ; iv. , n. ; and the roundhouse, i. , ; sends his love to, v. ; _shakespeare_, not mentioned in, ii. ; v. ; sorrow for his death, iii. ; iv. ; taste in theatrical merit, ii. ; thinking which side he should take, iii. ; tribute to him, i. ; iv. , n. ; use of orange-peel, ii. ; want of taste for the highest poetry, iii. ; wife, account of, i. , , ; wit, ii. ; kenrick's libel, i. , n. ; kitely, ii. , n. ; latin, has not enough, ii. ; lawyer, intends to become a, i. ; lear, ii. , n. : _lethe_, i. ; liberality, gave more money than any man, iii. , , ; instances of his, iii. , n. ; lichfield grocer, scorned by a, iii. , n. ; lichfield school, at, i. , n. ; life with great uniformity, saw, iii. ; literary club, election to the, i. - ; name given at his funeral, i. ; v. , n. ; low characters, ashamed of his, iii. ; mallet, fooled by, v. , n. ; manner, his significant smart, v. ; marplot, i. , n. ; _memoirs_ by t. davies, iii. , n. ; mickle, quarrels with, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; milton's granddaughter's benefit, i. ; money, great hunger for, iii. ; money exhausted, his, i. , n. ; montagu's, mrs., _essay_, praises, ii. ; praised by her, v. ; more, hannah, flatters him, iii. ; his kindness to her, ib. n. ; calls her _nine_, iv. , n. ; murphy, controversy with, i. , n. ; sarcasm against him, ii. ; praise of his liberality, iii. , n. ; nation to admire him, has a, iv. ; necker, mme., on his acting, v. , n. ; niece, his, miss doxy, iii. - : _ode on pelham's death_, i. ; ostentation, i. , n. ; parsimony, foote's ghost of a halfpenny, iii. ; peg woffington's tea, ib.; refuses an order to mrs. williams, i. ; partridge in _tom jones_, v. ; pious reverence, i. ; poor at first, iii. , ; portraits at streatham, iv. , n. ; in mrs. garrick's house, iv. ; beauclerk's inscription on one, ib.; profession, advanced the dignity of his, ii. , n. ; iii. ; 'his profession made him rich, and he made it respectable,' iii. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; prospero, i. ; provincial accents, ii. , n. ; queen, compliments the, ii. ; retiring from the stage, ii. ; iii. ; reynolds's defence of him, ii. ; riccoboni, mme., letters from, ii. , n. ; in. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; richard iii, his, seen by hogarth, in. , n. johnson's sarcasm on, iii. ; was not 'transformed into,' iv. ; _romeo and juliet_, alters, v. , n. : _sallad_, proposes, as a name for _the world_, i. , n. ; scholarship, ii. , n. ; scotch, nationality of the, ii. ; scotland, never in, iii. ; 'scrub, will play,' iii. ; sensibility as a writer, ii. ; sentiment, his, ii. ; shakespeare jubilee, ii. , n. , ; shakespeare, scarce editions of, ii. ; intends to read, v. , n. ; sheridan, thomas, engages, i. , n. ; describes the vanity of, ii. ; smith's, adam, conversation, iv. , n. ; splendour, too much, iii. ; spoilt, not, iii. , n. , ; steevens, letters from, ii. , n. ; , n. ; slandered by, iii. , n. ; table, at the head of a, iv. ; talking from books, v. , n. ; thrales, introduction to the, i. , n. ; universality in acting, ii. ; iv. ; v. ; unkindness, accused by davies of, iii. , n. ; vanity, ii. ; iii. , ; variety his excellence, iii. ; walpole, h., on his acting, iv. , n. ; wealth, iii. , ; whitehead, w., compliments him in verse, i. ; engaged as his 'reader,' ib. n. ; proposed to goldsmith as arbitrator, iii. , n. ; wife, love for his, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; _winter's tale_, new version of the, ii. , n. ; witness, examined as a, v. ; woman's riding-hood, in a, iv. ; _wonder, the_, in, iv. ; writer, sprightly, iii. ; woffington, peg, iii. ; mentioned, i. , , n. ; ii. , n. , , , , n. ; iii. . garrick, mrs., dinners at her house, iv. - ; , n. ; grief for her husband, iv. ; leaves garrick's funeral expenses, unpaid, iv. , n. ; neglects johnson's proposal to write garrick's life, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; survived garrick forty-three years, iv. , n. , , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . garrick, george, johnson's pupil, i. ; calls him 'a tremendous companion,' i. , n. ; iii. . garrick, peter, anecdotes of _irene_, i. , ; resemblance to his brother, ii. , , ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. , n. , ; iv. , n. . garth, sir samuel, m.d., lines on dying, ii. , n. ; johnson's praise of physicians, iv. . gastrell, bishop, v. . gastrell, rev. mr., cut down shakespeare's mulberry-tree, i. , n. ; ii. . gastrell, mrs., i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. . gataker, thomas, v. . gates, general, iii. , n. . gaubius, professor, i. . _gaudium_, ii. . gaudy, college, i. , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. . gay, john, advised to buy an annuity, v. , n. ; _beggar's opera_, 'as men should serve a cucumber,' v. ; boswell's delight in it, ii. ; iii. ; projected work on it, v. , n. ; burke thinks it has no merit, iii. ; cibber, refused by, iii. , n. ; hockley in the hole, iii. , n. ; johnson's opinion of it, iii. ; johnson turns captain macheath, iv. ; morality, its, ii. ; 'labefactation,' ib.; 'practical philosophers,' ii. ; rich made _gay_ and gay _rich_, iii. , n. ; run of nights, iii. , n. ; children, writing for, ii. , n. ; _letters_, iv. , n. ; _life_ by johnson, ii. ; orpheus of highwaymen, ii. , n. ; queensberry, duke of, ii. . _gazetteer, the_, v. , n. . gelaleddin, iv. , n. . 'gelidus, the philosopher,' i. , n. . gell, mr. and mrs., v. - . gell, sir william, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . _general advertiser_, i. . general assembly. see under scotland. general censure, iv. . general complaints, johnson's dislike of, ii. . general warrants, ii. . generals, great, ii. . genius, ii. - ; iii. , n. ; v. - ; made feminine, iii. . genoa, corsican revolt, ii. , n. , , n. ; the doge at versailles, iv. , n. . genteel people, swear less than formerly, ii. , n. . gentility, not inseparable from morality, ii. ; new system, i. - ; women more genteel than men, iii. . _gentle shepherd_, ii. ; v. , n. . gentleman, francis, i. . gentleman, english merchant a new species, i. , n. . gentleman, a, of eminence in the literary world, iv. ; one whose house was frequented by low company, iv. ; a penurious one, iv. ; one recommending his brother, iv. ; one who was rich, but without conversation, iv. . gentleman farmer, at ashbourne, iii. , . _gentleman's magazine_, account of it, i. iii; effect on it of rebellion of - , i. , n. ; hanoverian in - , i. , n. ; indecency in earlier numbers, i. , n. ; johnson, _ad urbanum_, i. ; becomes a regular contributor, i. ; writes _addresses, letters, and prefaces_, i. - , , , , , : (for his other contributions see under their several titles); school advertised in it, i. ; verses wrongly assigned to, i. , n. ; nichols, edited by, iv. ; described by southey, ib.; numbers sold, i. , n. i, , n. ; iii. ; obituaries, i. , n. i; prize poems, i. ; published at the end of the month, i. , n. ; 'sciolus,' iii. , n. ; value of, in , i. , n. . see under cave and debates. _gentleman's religion_, iv. . _gentlewoman, the born_, ii. . gentlewoman, a, in liquor, ii. . _geographical grammar_, iv. . _geography, dictionary of ancient_. see macbean, alexander. geology, of etna, ii. , n. ; johnson's ignorance of it, v. , n. . geometry, principles soon comprehended, v. , n. . george i, brett, miss, i. , n. ; burnt two wills made in favour of his son, ii. , n. ; death, his, ii. , n. ; knew nothing, ii. ; oxford, sends a troop of horse to, i. , n. i; shebbeare, satirised by, iii. , n. ; will, his, destroyed by george ii, ii. ; iv. , n. ; wish to restore the crown, ii. . george ii, augustus, not an, i. ; barbarity, his, i. ; challenged by elwall, ii. , ; clemency, his, i. ; english weary of him, i. ; fast day of jan. , observed the, ii. , n. ; george i's will, destroys, ii. ; quarrels with frederick the great about it, iv. ; johnson's epigram on him, i. ; v. , , ; roars against him, ii. ; would tell the truth of him, v. ; pelham's death, i. , n. . pretender's visit to london, v. , n. ; quiet times under the whigs, iv. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , n. . george iii, addresses in , iv. ; authority partly reestablished, iv. ; baronetcies, ii. , n. ; beattie, interview with, v. , n. ; beckford's speech, iii. , n. ; birthday, iv. ; 'born a briton', i. , n. , ; v. ; boswell's relation, v. ; _capability_ brown, intimacy with, iii. , n. ; carelessness in sentences of death, iii. , n. ; chatham's and garrick's funerals, iv. , n. ; city address in , iv. , n. ; concessions to the people, ii. ; contempt of irish peerages, iii. , n. ; coronation, iii. , n. ; corsica offered to him, ii. , n. ; dalrymple, sir john, ii. , n. ; dodd's case, iii. ; fast of jan. , ii. , n. ; fox, the king's competitor, iv. ; divides the kingdom with him, iv. ; gordon riots, iii. , ; great personage, i. ; gustavus iii, death of, iii. , n. ; _heroic epistle_, reads the, iv. , n. ; hopes formed of him, i. ; hume on the weakness of his government, iii. , n. ; hutton the moravian, iv. , n. ; indecency, treated with, iv. ; _irene_, has the sketch of, i. ; johnson, asks, to write a _life of spenser_, iv. ; compliments him in _the false alarm_, ii. ; _dedications_, ii. ; iii. ; for the king against fox, iv. ; gives him his _western islands_, ii. ; four volumes of the _lives_, iii. , n. ; interview with, ii. ; account of it, ii. ; iii. ; v. , n. ; second interview, ii. , n. ; pension, i. ; v. ; proposed addition to it, iv. , n. ; projected works, has the list of, iv. , n. ; madness, iv. , n. ; manners, his, described by adams, johnson and wraxall, ii. - ; militia camps, visits the, iii. ; minister, his own, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; ministers his tools, iii. , n. ; oppressed by them, iv. ; norton's speech to him as speaker, ii. , n. ; paoli, notices, v. , n. ; patron of science and the arts, i. ; petitions in , ii. , n. ; pretender, proper designation for the, v. , n. ; recruiting, complains of the difficulty of, iii. , n. . reign very factious, iv. , ; very unfortunate, iv. ; _respectable_ empire, his, iii. , n. ; reynolds, slights, iv. , n. ; rousseau's pension, ii. , n. ; scotch favourites, i. ; sea, at the age of had not seen the, i. ; n. ; shakespeare sad stuff, i. , n. ; shelburne, lord, dislikes, iv. , n. ; slave-trade, upholder of the, ii. ; _she stoops to conquer_, sees, ii. ; toryism or whiggism, prevalence in his reign of, ii. ; tour in the west of england, iv. , n. ; unpopularity maintained by johnson, iii. ; iv. ; changed into popularity, iii. , n. ; iv. ; wilkes at the levee, iii. , n. . george iv, i. , n. . see prince of wales. georgia, i. , n. . gerard, dr., v. , - , . germaine, lord george, i. , n. . german baron, story of a, ii. . germany, academies at the smaller courts, v. ; language, ii. ; rising in power, ii. , n. ; stocking industry, v. . gerves, john, v. , n. , . gesticulation ridiculed, i. ; ii. ; johnson's aversion to it, iv. . gherardi, marchese, iii. . ghosts, addison's belief, iv. ; argument against their existence, belief for it, iii. ; boswell introduces the subject, iv. , n. ; cave, one seen by, ii. , ; coachmakers' hall, discussion at, iv. ; cock lane ghost, i. - ; iii. ; evidence for them, iv. ; experience and imagination, i. ; goldsmith's brother, one seen by, ii. ; johnson's prayer on his wife's death, i. ; his state of mind as regards them, i. , ; iii. ; iv. , ; 'machinery of poetry,' iv. ; objection to their appearing, ii. ; parson ford's, iii. ; question undecided after years, iii. , ; southey on the good end they answer, iii. , n. ; villiers, sir george, iii. ; wesley's story of a ghost, iii. , . giannone, iv. . giano vitale, iii. , n. . giant's causeway, iii. . giants, a great personage's, i. . giardini, ii. . gibbon, edward, author best judge of his own performance, iv. , n. ; _autobiography_, ii. , n. ; _beggar's opera_, influence of the, ii. , n. ; boswell attacks him, ii. , n. , , n. , - ; v. , n. ; name passed over by him, ii. , n. ; and johnson, replies to, ii. , n. ; _cecilia_, reads, iv. , n. ; clarendon's _history_ and the oxford riding-school, ii. , n. ; _decline and fall_, 'artful infidelity' of the, ii. ; composition of vol. i, ii. , n. , ; publication, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; rough ms. sent to the press, iv. , n. ; the two offensive chapters, iii. ; domestic discipline, i. , n. ; dress, his, ii. , n. ; duke of gloucester, ii. , n. ; edinburgh society, ii. , n. ; fame, enjoyment of his, i. , n. ; foster, dr. james, iv. , n. ; fox at lausanne, iv. , n. ; fox commenced patriot, iv. , n. ; french assembly, iv. ; french society, iii. , n. ; gloucester, duke of, affability of the, ii. , n. ; hailes's _annals_, iii. , n. ; history attacked in his presence, ii. ; holroyd, visits to, iii. , n. ; 'hornets, accustomed to the buzzing of the,' ii. , n. ; horsley, bishop, praises, iv. ; hospitality, on, iv. , n. ; house of commons and nowell's sermon, iv. , n. ; hume and robertson, compliment to, ii. , n. ; hume congratulates him, ii. , n. ; hume's style, i. , n. ; inquisition, defends the, i. , n. ; johnson and the bear, ii. ; and the ladies, iv. : did not like to trust himself with, ii. ; and fox, iii. ; and the graces, iii. ; matched with, ii. ; 'reynolds's oracle,' i. , n. ; scarcely mentioned in his writings, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; style, imitates, iv. ; talks: of his ugliness, iv. ; _journal des savans_, ii. , n. ; law, william, character of, i. , n. ; lectures, teaching by, ii. , n. ; literary club, i. . , n. ; iii. , n. ; in , iii. , n. ; poisons it to boswell, ii. , n. ; london, loves the dust of, iii. , n. ; the liberty that it gives, iii. , n. ; lowth and warburton, ii. , n. ; macaulay, on his poverty, iv. . n. ; mackintosh's comparison of him with burke, ii. , n. ; magdalen college common-room, ii. , n. ; 'mahometan,' ii. ; mallet, david, i. , n. ; maty, dr., i. , n. ; montagu, mrs., on the _decline and fall_, iii. ; mutual gain in fair trade, v. , n. ; newton, bishop, iv. , n. , , n. ; north, lord, v. , n. ; _ossian_, ii. , n. ; oxford tutor, his, iii. , n. ; paley's attack on him, v. , n. ; pantheon, ii. , n. ; 'papist, turned,' ii. ; parliament, silent in, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; found it a school of civil prudence, ib.; pope's lines applied to him, ii. , n. ; post-chaise, delight in a, ii. , n. ; price, dr., iv. ; priestley, dr., iv. ; quaint manner, iii. : described by colman, ib., n. ; _respectable_, use of the term, iii. , n. ; reynolds's, dines at, iii. ; round-robin, signed the, iii. ; royal academy professor, ii. , n. ; school life not happy, i. , n. ; sneer, his usual, iv. ; style, study of, iv. , n. ; subscription to the articles, ii. , n. ; ten persecutions, the, ii. , n. ; tillemont, praises, i. , n. ; travelling, the requisites for, iii. - ; ugliness, ii. , n. ; iv. . gibbon, an attorney, ii. , n. . gibbons, rev. dr., iv. , . gibraltar, ii. . gibson, william, iv. , n. . giffard, the theatre manager, i. . gifford, rev. richard, v. . gifford, william, _baviad and macviad_, iii. , n. ; johnson's greek, v. , n. . gilbert, geoffrey, _law of evidence_, v. , n. . gilbert, rev. mr., i. , n. . gillam, justice, iii. , n. . gillespie, dr., iv. . gilmour, j., president of the session, v. . gilpin, w., v. . gin. see spirituous liquors. giraldus cambrensis, iii. , n. . gisborne, dr., iii. , n. . glanville, i. , n. . _glasse's, mrs., cookery_, iii. . glass-houses, i. , n. . glaucus, ii. , n. . gleg, mr., a merchant, v. . glengary, laird of, v. . glenmorison, laird of, v. , . gloom, gloomy penitence, iii. ; 'it is perhaps sinful to be gloomy,' iv. . gloucester, v. , n. . gloucester, duke of (brother of george iii), affability to gibbon, his, ii. , n. ; marriage, ii. , n. . glover, richard, account of him, v. , n. ; duke of marlborough's papers, v. , n. ; _leonidas_, v. ; _medea_, i. , n. . glow-worm, ii. , . gluttony, i. . glynne, serjeant, iii. , n. . 'gnothi seauton' [original text in greek], i. , n. . gobelins, ii. . god, infinite goodness, limited, iv. ; love of him predominated over by fear, iii. . godwin, william, iv. , n. . goldoni, iii. , n. . goldsmith, dr. isaac, dean of cloyne, i. , n. . goldsmith, rev. henry, ii. . goldsmith, mrs., iii. . goldsmith, oliver, absurdity, angry when caught in an, iii. ; addison, compared with, ii. ; ages at which he published his various works, iii. , n. ; aleppo, projected visit to, iv. ; anecdotes, excelled by percy in, v. ; _animated nature_, engaged in writing it, ii. - , , ; copy in lord scarsdale's library, iii. ; cow shedding its horns, iii. , n. ; maclaurin's yawns, iii. ; anonymous publications, i. ; _apology to the public_, ii. ; supposed to be written by johnson, ib.; architecture, contempt of, ii. , n. ; attacks, better for, v. ; authors, the neglect of, iii. , n. , , n. ; authors, patrons and booksellers, v. , n. : baretti, dislikes, ii. , n. ; at his trial, ii. , n. ; bath, describes, ii. ,_ n_. ; iii. , n. ; beat, first time he has, ii. ; beattie's _essay on truth_, despises, ii. ,_ n_. ; v. , n. ; beauclerk describes him, ii. , n. ; _beauties of english poetry selected_, iii. , n. ; _bee, the_, iii. , n. ; biography, the uses of, v. , n. ; birth, date of his, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; blank verse, on, i. , n. ; bloom-coloured coat, ii. ; boastfulness, i. : _bon ton_ breaking out in his waistcoats, ii. , n. ; books, could not tell what was in his own, iii. ; boswell's account of him, i. - ; accused of making a monarchy of what should be a republic, ii. : 'honest goldsmith,' ii. ; preserves a relic of him, ii. , n. ; takes leave of him, ii. ; burke's contemporary at trinity college, i. ; recollection of him, iii. ; camden, lord, complains of, iii. ; chamier's estimate of him, iii. ; chatterton's poems, believes in, iii. , n. , , n. ; cibber, colley, praises, iii. , n. ; _citizen of the world_, i. ; clare, lord, ii. ; clarke, dr., anecdote of, i. , n. ; companion, not an agreeable, iii. ; company, his, liked, ii. ; compilations and magazines, the causes of, v. , n. ; consequential at times, ii. ; conversation, does not know how to get off, ii. ; not temper for it, ii. ; reported a mere fool in it, i. ; talks at random, ; ii. ; iii. ; v. ; talks not to be unnoticed, ii. , ; corrections in his prose composition rare, iv. , n. ; cow shedding its horns: see above, _animated nature_; croaker, johnson's _suspirius_, i. ; ii. ; _cross readings_, admires, iv. , n. ; cumberland, disliked, iv. , n. ; death, ii. , n. , , n. , ; iii. ; iv. , n. ; debts, ii. , ; depopulation, on, ii. , n. ; _deserted village_, dedicated to reynolds, ii. i, n. , , n. ; johnson's lines in, ii. ; iii. ; reiterated corrections, ii. , n. ; _traveller_, sometimes an echo of the, ii. ; _dictionary of arts and sciences_ projected, ii. , n. ; dilly's, dines at, ii. ; 'doctor minor,' v. ; dodd, dr., satirises, iii. , n. ; dodsley, dispute on the poetry of the age with, iii. ; dog-butchers, ii. ; dress, slovenly, i. , n. ; his fine coat, ii. ; effect of dress on the mind, ib. n. ; dryden's line on poets and monarchs, ii. : duelling, question of, ii. ; dyer, samuel, at the club, iv. ii, n. ; edinburgh, country round, i. ; ii. , n. ; edinburgh university, i. , ; _elements of criticism_, criticises, ii. ; _enquiry into the present state of polite learning_, i. , n. , ; envy, his, i. ; ii. , ; boswell's defence of it, iii. ; epitaph in greek, ii. ; iii. , n. ; epitaph in latin, iii. - ; _round robin_, ; europe, disputed his passage through, i. ; evans, assaults, ii. , n. ; excelled in what he wrote, iii. ; fable of the little fishes, ii. ; fame, his, v. ; fame, talked for, iii. ; fantoccini, the, i. ; flowered late, iii. ; france, tour to, i. ; french meat, ii. , n. ; friendship and the story of bluebeard, ii. ; 'furnishing you with argument and intellects,' iv. , n. ; garrick's compliment to the queen, attacks, ii. ; lines on him, i. , n. ; refuses _the good natured man_, iii. ; proposes whitehead as arbitrator, ib. n. ; 'gentleman, the,' ii. ; george iii, and _she stoops to conquer_, ii. ; gets the better when he argues alone, ii. ; ghost seen by his brother, ii. ; 'goldy,' dislikes being called, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; _good natured man_, prologue, ii. , : croaker, i. ; ii. ; refused by garrick, iii. ; gray, attacks, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; _elegy_, mends, i. , n. ; 'happy revolutions,' ii. ; harris, james, ii. ; _haunch of venison_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; hawkins's account of him, i. , n. ; '_hesiod_' cooke, v. , n. ; historians, in the first class of, ii. ; _history of england_ attributed to lord lyttelton, i. , n. ; _history of rome, ii. - ; iv. ; hornecks, miss, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; horses, abhorrence of blood, ii. ; _humours of ballamagairy_, ii. ; _idler_, buys the, i. , n. ; ignorance of common arts, iv. ; improvidence, i. , n. ; inscriptions on the _written mountains_, iv. , n. ; 'inspired idiot,' i. , n. ; irascible as a hornet, v. , n. ; jacobitism, his, ii. , , n. ; jests from the pit of a theatre, on, i. , n. ; johnson, arguing: see johnson, arguing; a bear only in the skin, ii. ; the 'big man,' ii. ; biographer, i. , n. : buys his _life_ of nash, i. , n. ; and a print of him, i. , n. ; claim upon--for more writings, ii. ; compared with burke, ii. ; competition with, i. ; ii. , ; compliment a cordial, iii. , n. ; could take liberties with, iv. ; estimation of him as an author, i. ; ii. , ; places him in the first class, ii. ; defends him against mr. eliot's attack, ii. , n. ; calls him a very great man, ii. ; defends him against attack at reynolds's table, ib., n. ; shows the difference when he had not a pen in his hand, iv. ; got him sooner into estimation, ii. ; first visit to him, i. , n. ; goodness of heart, i. ; influence on his style, i. ; interview with george iii, ii. ; jealous of, ii. ; letter to him, ii. , n. ; levee, attends, ii. ; literary reputation, ii. ; manner, copies, i. ; not his style, ii. ; pension, iv. ; _prologue to the good natured man_, ii. , ; proposes to--that they each review the other's work, v. ; quarrels with, ii. - ; reconciliation, ; reads the _heroic epistle_ to, iv. ; reproaches, with not going to the theatre, ii. ; tetrastick on him, ii. ; tribute to him in the _life of parnell_, ii. , n. ; wishes to write his _life_, iii. , n. ; witty contests with, ii. ; kenrick, libelled by, i. , n. ; knowledge, 'pity he is not knowing,' ii. ; 'knows nothing,' ii. ; 'amazing how little he knows,' ii. ; 'at no pains to fill his mind,' iii. ; langton, letter to, ii. , n. ; lennox's, mrs., play, iv. ; _life_ not included in the _lives of the poets_, iii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; ii. ; absurd verses recited to it, ii. ; iv. ; wishes for more members, iv. ; lloyd's supper party, i. , n. ; lodgings, miserable, i. , n. ; in the edgeware road, ii. ; 'loose in his principles,' i. ; luxury, effects of, ii. , ib. n. ; madeira, bottle of, i. ; mallet's reputation, ii. ; martinelli's _history_, ii. ; mathematics, made no great figure in, i. ; contempt for them, ii. , n. ; medical studies, i. ; merit late to be acknowledged, iii. ; mind, never exchanged, iii. ; modern imitators of the early poets, despises, iii. , n. ; montaigne, love of, iii. , n. ; mortified by a german, ii. ; musical performers' pay, ii. ; '_mutual_ acquaintance,' iii. , n. ; martyrdom, ii. - ; _natural history_: see _animated nature_; nidification, ii. ; 'nihil quod tetigit non ornavit,' i. ; iii. ; '_nil te quaesiveris extra_,' iv. ; northcote's account of him, i. , n. ; northumberland, duke of, would have helped him, iv. , n. ; the duchess prints _edwin and angelina_, ii. , n. ; novelty, i. , n. ; padua, at, i. , n. ; paoli's, dines at, ii. ; paradox, affectation of, i. l ; 'three paradoxes,' iii. , n. ; _parnell, life of_, ii. ; partiality of his friends against him, iii. ; pen in and out of his hand, iv. ; pensions to french authors, i. , n. ; percy's account of him, i. , n. ; quarrel with him, iii. , n. ; 'pleasure of being liked,' i. , n. ; pope's lines on addison, ii. ; 'strain of pride,' iii. , n. ; powers, did not know his own, i. , n. ; public make a _point_ to know nothing of his writings, iii. ; religion, takes his from the priest, ii. ; _retaliation_, passages quoted: attorneys, ii. , n. ; burke, i. ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; burke, william, v. , n. ; douglas, dr., i. , n. ; garrick, i. , n. ; his lines on goldsmith, i. , n. ; lauder, i. , n. ; 'pepper the highest,' iv. , n. ; townshend, tommy, iv. - ; shown to burke and mrs. cholmondeley, iii. , n. ; reviewers, ii. , n. ; reynolds's explanation of his absurdities, i. , n. ; his envy, i. l , n. ; robinhood society, iv. , n. ; round of pleasures, ii. , n. ; royal academy professor, ii, , n. ; royal academy dinner, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; sappho in ovid, ii. ; savage, compared with, ii. , n. ; scotch inns, v. , n. ; scrupulous, not, i. , n. ; servitorships, v. , n. ; settled system, no, i. ; or notions, iii. ; _she stoops to conquer_, copyright of it, iii. , n. ; dedicated to johnson, ii. , n. , ; dedication, ib. n. ; dinner on the day of its first performance, iv. ; duke of gloucester's marriage, ii. ; farquhar copied, v. , n. ; finding out the longitude, i. , n. ; ill success predicted, ii. ; johnson's opinion, ii. , , ; naming it, ii. , n. , ; northcote's account of it to goldsmith, ii. , n. ; performed during a court mourning, iv. ; _rambler_, borrowed from, i. , n. ; song for miss hardcastle, ii. ; success on the stage, ii. , n. ; tony lumpkin's song, ii. ; walpole's criticism, ii. , n. ; shelburne and malagrida, iv. ; _shine_, eager to, i. ; ii. , , ; social, not, iii. ; society, his, courted, ii. ; sterne, attacks, ii. , n. ; calls him a very dull fellow, ii. ; straw, on a balancer of a, iii. , n. ; suicide, on, ii. ; swift's 'strain of pride,' iii. , n. ; tailor, taken for a, ii. , n. ; tailor's bill, ii. , n. ; talk; see conversation; 'tell truth and shame the devil,' ii. ; temple, chambers in the, ii. , n. ; iv. ; v. , n. ; temple of fame, ii. ; terror, object of, to a nobleman, i. , n. ; townsend, praises lord mayor, iv. , n. ; _traveller_, brings him into high reputation, iii. ; chamier's doubts as to the author, iii. ; dedicated to his brother, ii. , n. ; editions, i. , n. ; fox praises it, iii. , ; johnson's lines in it, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. ; praises it, ii. , ; reviews it, i. ; recites a passage, v. ; 'luke's iron crown,' ii. ; payment for it, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; published with author's name, i. , n. ; reiterated correction, ii. , n. ; _slow_, iii. ; written after the _vicar_ but published before, i. ; iii. ; travelling in youth, on, iii. ; unnoticed, afraid of being, ii. ; van egmont's _travels_, reviews, iv. , n. ; vanity, i. ; shown in his talk, i. ; his clothes, ii. ; his virtues and vices were from it, iii. ; _vicar of wakefield_, history of its publication, i. ; iii. ; johnson's opinion of it, i. , n. ; iii. ; passages expunged, iii. - ; visionary project, his, iv. ; walpole despises him, i. , n. ; introduced to him, iv. , n. ; warburton a weak writer, v. , n. ; westminster abbey and temple bar, ii. ; deserved a place in the abbey, iii. ; spot for his monument chosen by reynolds, iii. , n. ; 'williams, i go to miss, i. ; _zobeide_, wrote a prologue for, iii. , n. . gombauld, iii. . gondar, v. , n. . good-breeding, ii. ; v. , . good friday, ii. ; iii. , ; iv. . good-humour, acquired, not natural, v. ; dependent upon the will, iii. ; increases with age, ib.; rare, ii. ; johnson a good-humoured fellow, ib. 'good man, a,' iv. . _good natured man_. see goldsmith. goodness, not natural, v. , . _goody two shoes_, iv. , n. . gordon, duke of, iii. , n. . gordon, hon. alexander, (lord rockville), i. ; v. , . gordon, sir alexander, ii. , n. ; iii. ; v. , - , . gordon, captain, of park, v. . gordon, general c. g., i. , n. . gordon, lord george, mansfield's charge on his trial, iii. , n. ; st. george's field meeting, iii. ; sent to the tower, iii. ; trial, iv. . gordon, professor thomas, v. - , - . gordon, rev. dr., of lincoln, iii. . gordon, mr. w., town-clerk of aberdeen, v. , n. . gordon riots, iii. - , , . gorlitz, ii. , n. . gory, monboddo's black servant, v. - . gosse, mr. edmund, gray's _works_, i. , n. . gothick buildings, i. . gough,--, ii. . gout, an attack of, a poetical fiction, i. ; books on it, v. ; due to abstinence, i. , n. . government, by one, best for a great nation, iii. ; contracted-more easily destroyed, iii. ; distance, from a, iv. ; english--on a broad basis, iii. ; fittest men not appointed, ii. ; forms of it indifferent, ii. ; imperfection inseparable from all, ii. ; possible through want of agreement in the governed, ii. ; power cannot be long abused, ii. ; real power everywhere lost (in ), iv. , n. ; reverence for it impaired, iii. : see ministry. _government of the tongue_, boswell quotes it, iii. ; johnson perhaps borrows from it, i. , n. ; 'men oppressive by their parts,' iv. , n. . _governor_, v. , n. . gower, first earl, recommends johnson, i. ; plaxton's letter to him, i. , n. ; _renegado_, i. . gower, dr., provost of worcester college, ii. , n. . gower, john, iii. . grace, in latin, v. : at meals, i. , n. ; ii. ; v. . grafton, third duke of, ii. . graham, colonel, ii. . graham, rev. george, _telemachus_, i. ; iii. ; insults goldsmith, v. . graham, lady lucy, v. , n. . graham, marquis of (third duke of montrose), iii. ; laughed at in _the rolliad_, ib., n. ; loves liberty, iii. ; mentioned, iv. . graham, miss, iii. . grainger, dr. james, character, his, ii. ; johnson's shakespeare, anecdote of, i. , n. ; _ode on solitude_, iii. ; _sugar cane_, johnson reviews it, i. ; does not like it, ii. ; _mice_ altered to _rats_, ii. ; _tibullus_, translates, ii. . grammar, advantage of learning it, v. . grammar school, johnson's scheme for the classes of a, i. . grand chartreux, iii. . grand signor, ii. . grandees of spain, v. . grange, lady, v. . granger, rev. james, _biographical history_, iii. ; v. ; denies that he is a whig, iii. ; 'the dog is a whig,' v. . grant, abbé, v. , n. grant, sir archibald, iii. . grant, rev. mr., v. - , , . grant,--, ii. , . grantham, ii. , n. . grantham, first baron, i. , n. . grantley, first baron, ii. , n. . granville, g. see under lansdowne, lord. granville, john carteret, earl, described by lord chesterfield, iv. , n. ; despatch after the battle of dettingen, iv. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iv. . gratitude, burthen, a, i. ; fruit of great cultivation, v. . grattan, henry, 'one link of the english chain,' iv. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . _grave, the_, iii. . graves, morgan, i. , n. . graves, rev. richard, author of _the spiritual quixote_, i. , n. ; shenstone at oxford, i. , n. ; property, v. s , n. ; mentioned, ii. . gravina, iv. . gray, sir james, ii. . gray, john, bookseller, i. . gray, thomas, abruptness, his, i. ; akenside, inferior to, iii. ; beattie, friendship with, v. , n. ; blank verse, disliked, i. . n. ; boswell sat up all night reading him, ii. , n. ; boswell's _corsica_ and paoli, ii. , n. ; cohnan's _odes to obscurity_, ii. ; _disjecta membra_, i. , n. ; _distant prospect of eton college_ quoted, i. ; doctor's degree offered him at aberdeen, ii. , n. ; dryden's 'car,' ii. , n. ; 'dull fellow, a,' ii. ; elegy, imitated, v. , n. ; mended by goldsmith, i. , n. ; quoted, iii. , n. , ; sneered at, ii. , n. ; young's parody of johnson's criticism on it, iv. , n. (see just below under johnson); happy moments for writing, i. , n. ; italy, tour to, iii. , n. ; johnson criticises the elegy, i. ; ii. , n. ; finds two good stanzas, ii. ; criticises the odes, i. ; ii. , , ; iv. , , n. ; criticism attacked, iv. ; defended by boswell, i. ; cites him in his dictionary, iv. , n. ; praises his letters, iii. , n. ; writes his life, iii. ; works, did not taste, ii. ; calls him _ursa major_, v. , n. ; _long story_ cited, v. ; mackintosh criticises his style, iii. , n. ; mason's memoirs of him, i. ; higher in them than in his poems, iii. ; 'mechanical poet, a,' ii. ; _odeon vicissitude_, iv. , n. ; _odes_ praised by cumberland's _ode_, iii. , n. ; pope's condensation of thought, admires, v. , n. ; and his _homer_, iii. , n. ; _progress of poetry_, quoted, iii. , n. ; _remains_, his, preparation for publication, ii. ; sixteen-string jack, compared to, iii. ; _spleen, the_, admires, iii. , n. ; sterne's popularity, ii. . n. ; 'sunshine of the breast,' v. , n. ; 'warm gray,' ii. . _gray's inn journal_, i. , , . _great_, how pronounced, ii. . great, the, cant against their manners, iii. ; johnson, never courted by, iv. ; did not seek his society, iv. ; or richardson's, ib., n. ; officious friends, have, ii. , n. ; seeking their acquaintance, ii. ; iii. . 'great he,' ii. . great mogul, ii. , n. . greaves, samuel, iv. . greece, fountain of knowledge, iii. ; modern greece swept by the turks, ii. . greek, books for beginners, iii. ; genardus's _grammar_, iv. ; essential to a good education, i. ; like lace, iv. ; a woman's knowledge of it, i. , n. . see johnson, greek. greeks, barbarians mostly, ii. ; dramatists, iv. ; empire, iii. . green, john, bishop of lincoln, i. . green, matthew, iii. , n. . green, richard, of lichfield, account of him, ii. ; his museum, ib.; iii. ; johnson, letter from, iv. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. , n. . green room, of drury lane, i. . _green sleeves_, v. . greene, burnaby, i. . greenhouses, ii. ; iv. . greenwich, boswell and johnson's day there, i. ; hospital, i. ; johnson composes part of _irene_ in the park, i. ; lodges in church street, i. ; park, described by miss talbot, i. , n. ; not equal to fleet street, i. . gregory, david, _geometry_, v. . gregory, dr. james, iii. ; v. . gregory, dr. john, v. , n. . gregory, professors of that name, v. , n. . gregory, ----, iii. . grenville, right hon. george, beckford's bribery bill, supports, ii. , n. ; 'could have counted the manilla ransom,' ii. ; johnson's letter to him, i. , n. . _grenville act_, iv. , n. ; v. . gretna green, iii. . greville, c. c., johnson and garrick, i. , n. ; and fox, iv. , n. ; 'public dinner' at lambeth, iv. , n. . greville, richard fulke, _maxims and characters_, iv. ; account of him, ib., n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . grey, first earl, iii. , n. . grey, dr. richard, iii. . grey, stephen, ii. . grey, dr. zachary, i. , n. ; iii. ; v. , n. . grief, alleviated by recording recollections of the dead, i. ; digested, to be, not diverted, iii. ; effect of business engagements on it, ii. ; johnson's advice as to dealing with it, iii. ; iv. , ; not retained long by a sound mind, iii. ; wears away soon, iii. . see sorrow. grierson, mr. and mrs., ii. . griffiths, ralph, the publisher, his evidence worthless, iii. , n. ; war with smollett, iii. , n. . griffiths, ----, of bryn o dol, v. . griffiths, ----, of kefnamwycllh, v. . grimm, baron, _candide_, i. ; mme, du boccage, iv. , n. . grimston, viscount, iv. , n. . _grongar hill_, iv. . gronovii, v. . grosvenor, lord, v. , n. . grotius, corporal punishment, on, ii. , n. ; christian evidences, on, i. , ; _de satisfactione christi_, v. ; isaac de groot his descendant, iii. ; practised as a lawyer, ii. ; quoted in lauder's fraud, i. . grove, rev. henry, papers in the _spectator_, iii. ; read by baretti, iv. . _grove, the_, iv. , n. . _grub street_, defined, i. . guadaloupe, i. , , n. . gualtier, philip, iv. , n. . _guarded_ bed-curtains, v. , n. . _guardian, the_, on public judgment, i. , n. ; end of its publication, i. , n. . guardians for children, iii. . guards, the, boswell's fondness for them, i. , n. ; afraid of the juries, iii. . guarini, _pastor fido_, iii. . guessing, iii. . _guide-books_, common in italy, v. . guilleragues, m. de, i. , n. . guilty, ten, should escape, rather than one innocent suffer, iv. . guimenÉ, princess of, ii. . gulosity, i. . gunning, the misses, v. , n. , , n. . gunpowder, iii. ; v. . gunthwait, ii. . _gustavus adolphus, history of_, iv. . _gustavus vasa_, i. . guthrie, william, account of him, i. , , n. ; johnson's character of him, ii. ; _apotheosis of milton_, i. ; debates, i. , ; duhalde's _china_, translates, iv. ; pensioned, i. ; scotticisms, i. , n. . guyon, _dissertation on the amazons, i. . gwyn. colonel, i. , n. . gwynn, john, the architect, account of him, v. , n. ; buildings designed by him, ii. , n. ; defence of architecture, ii. ; happy reply, ii. ; johnson's advocacy of him, i. ; letter in his behalf, v. , n. ; _london and westminster improved_, ii. ; oxford post-coach, in the, ii. ; iii. ; _thoughts on the coronation of george iii_, i. . gwynne, nell, i. , n. . h. _habeas corpus_, ii. . _habeas corpus bill_ of , iii. , n. . haberdashers' company, i. , n. . habitations, attachment to, ii. . habits, early, force of, ii. . hackman, rev. mr., boswell attends his trial, iii. ; and execution, iii. , n. ; altercation about him, iii. - ; described in _love and madness_, iv. , n. . haddington, seventh earl of, iii. . haddo, professor, v. . haddocks, dried, v. . _hadoni exequioe_, iv. , n. . hagley, described by walpole, v. , n. , , n. ; johnson visits it, v. - . hague, v. , n. . hailes, lord (sir david dalrymple), account of him, i. ; v. ; _annals of scotland_, a new mode of history, ii. ; accuracy, ii. ; a book of great labour, iii. ; exact, but dry, iii. ; praised by gibbon, ib., n. ; revised by johnson, ii. - , - , , . , - , - , , - , ; iii. , , , ; praised by him, iii. ; boswell, letters to, i. ; v. ; _catalogue of the lords of session_, v. ; chesterfield's 'respectable hottentot,' on, i. ; consulted on the entail of auchinleck, ii. , , - ; critical sagacity, ii. ; v. ; elgin cathedral, account of, v. ; inch keith, account of, v. ; johnson, introduced to, v. ; asks, to write a character of bruce, ii. - ; compares, with swift, i. ; is not convinced by his _suasorium_, iii. ; records a talk with him, v. ; sends him anecdotes for his _lives_, iii. - ; drinks a bumper to him, i. ; love for him, ii. ; knight, the negro's case, iii. , ; _la crédulité des incrédules_, v. ; _lactantius_, edits, iii. ; modernizes john hales's language, iv. ; _ossian_, faith in, ii. ; percy, resemblance to, iii. ; prior, censures, iii. ; _remarks on the history of scotland_, v. - ; _sacred poems_, iii. ; stuarts, unfair to the, v. ; _vanity of human wishes_, corrects the, v. ; _walton's lives_, proposal to edit, ii. , , , ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. , , ; iv. , , , ; v. . hair, growth of the, iii. , n. . hakewill, rev. george, i. . hall, sir matthew, devoted to his office, ii. ; knowledge varied, ii. ; _life_ by burnet, iv. ; _primitive origination of mankind_, i. , n. ; rules of health and study, iv. ; sentenced witches to death, v. , n. . hales, john, of eton, iv. . hales, stephen, _on distilling sea-water_, i. ; _statical essays_, v. , n. . halifax, dr., ii. , n. . halket, elizabeth, ii. , n. . hall, dr., master of pembroke college, iv. , n. . hall, general, iii. , , n. . hall, john, the engraver, iii. ; iv. , n. . hall, mrs., account of her, iv. ; johnson turns captain macheath, iv. ; talks of the resurrection, iv. . hall, rev. robert, influenced by a metaphysical tailor, iv. , n. ; studied at aberdeen, v. , n. . hall, rev. westley (wesley's brother-in-law), iv. , n. . hall, ----, v. . hallam, henry, ii. , n. . hallam, henry, the younger, ii. , n. . halle, university of, i. , n. . halls, fire-place in the middle, i. ; in squires' houses, v. . halsey, edmund, i. , n. . ham, posterity of, i. . hamilton, archibald, the printer, ii. . hamilton, captain, iv. , n. . hamilton, sixth duke of, v. . n. . hamilton, eighth duke of, ii. , n. ; ii. ; v. , , n. . hamilton, gavin, ii. . hamilton, lady betty, v. , . hamilton, sir william, member of the literary club, i. . hamilton, william, of bangour, johnson talks slightingly of him, iii. - ; verses on holyrood, v. ; to the countess of eglintoune, v. , n. . hamilton, william, of sundrum, v. . hamilton, william gerard, boswell's _johnson_, pays for a cancel in, i. ; burke, engagement and rupture with, i. ; ranks very high, iv. , n. ; character by h. walpole and miss burney, i. ; 'eminent friend,' an, iv. , n. ; jenyns's character, iii. , n. ; johnson accompanied him to the street-door, i. ; arguing on the wrong side, iv. , n. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; complaint of the ministry, ii. ; death makes a chasm, iv. ; engaging in politics with him, i. , - ; 'envied but one thing,' he had said, iv. ; esteem for him, i. ; long intimacy, ii. ; as a fox-hunter, i. , n. ; generous offer to, iv. , , n. ; letters to him, iv. , ; pension, ii. ; on public speaking, ii. ; _junius_, suspected to be, iii. , n. ; _parliamentary logick_, i. ; satisfactory coxcomb, describes a, iii. , n. ; 'single-speech,' i. , n, ; warton, dr., letter to, i. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. , . hamilton and balfour, booksellers, iii. , n. . _hamlet, an essay on the character of_, iv. , n. ; rescued from rubbish, ii. , n. , , n. . hammond, dr. henry, iii. . hammond, james, _life_, by johnson, iii. , n. ; _love elegies_, iv. ; v. . hampden, dr., bishop of hereford, iv. , n. . hampstead, mrs. johnson's lodgings, i. , ; johnson composes most of _the vanity of human wishes_ there, i. ; takes an airing to it, iv. ; mentioned, v. . hampton, james, _translation of polybius_, i. . hampton court, johnson's application for a residence in it, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . handasyd, general, ii. , n. . handel, musical meeting in his honour, iv. ; his poet, v. , n. . hanmer, sir thomas, epitaphs on him, i. ; ii. ; hervey's _letter to sir thomas hanmer_, ii. , n. , , n. ; shakespeare, edits, i. , ; v. , n. . hannibal, iii. . hanover, house of, johnson attacks it, i. : asserts its unpopularity, iii. ; calls it _isolée_, iv. ; says that it is weak because unpopular, v. ; oaths as to the disputed right, ii. ; pleasure of cursing it, i. ; right to the throne, v. - ; unpopular at oxford, i. , n. (see under oxford, jacobite); becomes generally popular, iv. , n. (see under george iii, unpopularity). hanover rat, ii. . hanway, jonas, _eight days' journey_, i. ; ii. ; _essay on tea_, i. . - , , n. ; iii. , n. ; v. ; johnson's rejoinder, i. . happiness, attained by studying little things, i. , ; iii. ; business of a wise man, iii. ; cannot be found in this life, v. ; counterfeited, ii. , n. ; cultivated, to be, iii. ; experience shows that men are less happy, iii. ; hope the chief part of it, i. , n. ; ii. ; hume's notion, ii. ; iii. ; inn, produced most by a good, ii. ; its throne a tavern chair, ib., n. ; one solid basis of it, iii. ; pantheon, at the, ii. ; pleasure, compared with, iii. ; present time never happy but when a man is drunk, ii. , , n. ; iii. ; or when he forgets himself, iii. ; public matters, little affected by, ii. , n. , ; schoolboys, happiness of, i. ; struggles for it, iii. ; swift, defined by, ii. , n. ; virtue, not the certain result of, i. , n. . _happy life, the_, ii. . harcourt, lord chancellor, i. , n. . harcourt, lord, iii. , n. . hardcastle, mrs., in _she stoops to conquer_, i. , n. . harding, ----, a painter, iv. , n. . hardinge, first viscount, ii. , n. . hardwicke, lord chancellor, _dirleton's doubts_, on, iii. ; dr. foster becomes popular through him, iv. , n. ; prime minister, on the office of a, ii. , n. ; radcliffe's trial, i. , n. ; spectator, paper in the, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . hardwicke, second lord, i. , n. . hardyknute, ii. . hare, james, iii. , n. . hare, w., the murderer, v. , n. . hargrave, ----, the barrister, iii. , n. . harington, dr., iv. . harington, sir john, iv. , n. ; , n. . harleian library and catalogue, i. , . _harleian miscellany, preface to the_, i. . harrington, countess of, iii. . harris, james (hermes harris), account of him, ii. , n. ; a coxcomb, v. ; _hermes or philological inquiries_, iii. , , ; v. ; johnson's _dictionary_, praises, iii. ; talk with, iii. - ; pleasantry, his sense of, v. , n. ; scholar and prig, iii. ; mentioned, ii. . harris, thomas, of covent garden theatre, iii. . harrison, rev. cornelius, iv. , n. . harrison, elizabeth, _miscellanies_, i. , . harrison, john, the inventor of the chronometer, i. , n. . harrison, ----, iv. , n. . harrogate, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . harry, miss jane, iii. , n. . harte, dr. walter, companionable and a scholar, ii. ; _essays on husbandry_, iv. ; _history of gustavus adolphus_, ii. ; iv. ; johnson and the screen, i. , n. ; tutor to eliot and stanhope, iv. , . hartlebury, v. . harvest of , iii. , n. ; of , iii. , n. . harvey. see hervey. harwich, i. ; stage-coach, . harwood, dr. edward, _liberal translation of the new testament_, iii. . haslerig, sir arthur, ii. . hastie, a scotch schoolmaster, his case, ii. , , , ; johnson's argument for him, ii. ; mansfield's speech, ii. ; had his deserts, ii. . hastings, warren, boswell, letter to, iv. ; charges against him, iv. ; johnson, letters from, iii. ; iv. , - ; macaulay on his answer to johnson, iv. , n. ; scheme about oxford and persian literature, iv. , n. ; trial, iv. , n. ; westminster school, at, i. , n. . hate, steadier than love, iii. . hatsel, mrs., iv. , n. . hatter, anecdote of a, ii. , n. . havannah expedition, i. , n. , , n. , . hawes, l., i. , n. . hawkesbury, lord. see jenkinson, charles. hawkestone, v. - . hawkesworth, dr. john, edits the _adventurer_, i. ; cook's voyages, edits, ii. ; iii. ; payment for it, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; passage against a particular providence, v. ; courtenay's lines on him, i. ; death, causes of his, v. , n. ; _debates_, continues the, i. ; ivy lane club, member of the, iv. ; johnson's imitator, i. , ; ii. ; tribute to him, i. , n. ; psalmanazar, anecdote of, iii. ; spoilt by success, i. , n. ; _swift, life of_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , ; ii. . hawkins, sir john, account of him, i. - ; addison's style, i. , n. ; 'attorney, an,' i. ; barber, attacks, iv. , , n. ; ; boswell attacks him indirectly, i. , n. ; slights, i. , n. , , n. ; 'bulky tome,' his, ii. , n. ; burke, rudeness, to, i. ; ill-will towards, ii. ; cave, edward, i. , n. ; dodd, dr., iii. i , n. ; english lexicographers, i. ; gentility, on, i. , n. ; goldsmith at the club, i. , n. ; hector's notes of johnson, iv. ; _history of music_, v. ; hogarth's physicians, iii. , n. ; inaccuracy, his general, i. , n. ; iii. ; iv. , n. , ; instances of it--addison's _notanda_, i. ; essex head club, iv. , ; _ignorance_ for _arrogance_, iv. , n. ; _irene_, reception of, i. , n. ; johnson's _adversaria_, i. , n. ; 'enmity' to milton, i. ; fear of death, iv. ; fondness for his wife, i. ; and heely, ii. , n. ; loan of books, iv. , n. ; and millar, i. , n. ; mother's death, i. , n. ; operating on himself, iv. , n. , , n. ; 'ostentatious bounty to negroes,' iv. , n. ; warrants against, i. ; wife's apparition, i. ; will, iv. ; literary club, i. - ; _rasselas_, i. ; _review of burke's sublime and beautiful_, i. ; _vicar of wakefield_, sale of the copy of the, i. ; ivy lane club, iv. ; johnson's apologies, iv. , n. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; executors, one of, iv. , n. ; funeral, iv. , n. ; house in johnson's court, ii. , n. ; humour, ii. , n. ; letters to him, iv. ; _london_ and savage, i. , n. ; mode of eating, i. , n. ; not a stayed, orderly man, iv. , n. ; praise of a tavern chair, ii. , n. ; quickness to see good in others, i. , n. ; readiness to forgive injuries, iv. , n. ; said to have slandered, iv. , n. ; separation from his wife, i. , n. ; sinking into indolence, iii. , n. ; title of doctor, i. , n. ; will, iv. ; _works_, edits, i. , n. ; writing for money, iii. , n. ; knighted, i. , n. ; literary club, account of the, i. , n. , ; pitt and pulteney, oratory of, i. ; pockets johnson's _diary_, iv. , n. ; porson, satirised by, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; 'rigmarole,' his, i. , n. ; thrale's, mrs., second marriage, iv. ; unclubable, i. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. . hawkins, miss, 'boswell, mr. james,' i. , n. ; burke's estimate of his son, iv. , n. ; hawkins's attack on the essex head club, iv. . hawkins, rev. professor william, member of pembroke college, i. ; quarrel with garrick, ib., n. ; iii. . hawkins, ----, under-master of lichfield school, i. . hawthornden. see drummond, william. hay, lord, v. . hay, lord charles, at the battle of fontenoy, iii. , n. ; his courtmartial, iii. . hay, sir george, i. . hay, dr., i. , , n. . hay, john, v. , , . hay, william, a translation of _martial_, v. . hayes, rev. mr., iii. . hayley, william, correspondence with miss seward, iv. , n. ; dedication to romney, iii. , n. . hayman, francis, i. , n. . hayward, abraham, _thraliana_, iv. , n. . hazlitt, william, baxter at kidderminster, iv. , n. ; dr. foster's popularity, iv. , n. ; grieves at the defeat of napoleon, iv. , n. . see under northcote,_conversations of northcote_. heale, iv. - . health, rules to restore it, iv. . _heard_, johnson's pronunciation of, iii. . hearne, thomas, duke of brunwick's accession-day, i. , n. ; leland's _itinerary_, v. , n. ; pembroke college chapel, i. , n. ; psalmanazar at oxford, iii. . heath, dr., iv. . heath, james, the engraver, iv. , n. . heaven, degrees of happiness in it, iii. . see future state. he-bear and she-bear, iv. , n. . heberden, dr., account of him, iv. , n. ; johnson, attends, iv. - , , n. , ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; markland, assists, iv. , n. ; _ultimus romanorum_, iv. , n. ; _timidorum timidissimus_, iv. , n, ; mentioned, ii. ; iv. - , , n. . hebrew, leibnitz traces all languages up to it, ii. . hebrides. see under boswell, _journal of a tour to the hebrides; journey to the western islands of scotland_; and scotland, highlands. hector, edmund, birmingham, his house in, ii. , n. ; boswell and johnson visit him in , ii. , ; - ; johnson's chastity, i. ; early life, gives boswell particulars of, ii. ; iv. , n. ; early verses, i. , n. ; friendship for him, iv. , , ; last visit to him, iv. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; will, not in, iv. , n. ; sister, his, mrs. careless, ii. . heely, mr. and mrs., ii. - ; iv. ; johnson's letter to heely, iv. . _heinous_, ii. . heirs at law, right, their, ii. . heirs general, ii. . hell, johnson's dread of it, iv. ; its pavement of good intentions, ii. ; of infants' skulls, iv. , n. ; subsists by truth, iii. . helmet, hung out on a tower, iii. . helot, the drunken, iii. . helvetius, advises montesquieu to suppress his _esprit des lois_, v. , n. ; warburton 'would have _worked_ him,' iv. , n. . helvoetsluys, i. . _hemisphere_, ii. . hÉnault, ii. , n. i, , . henderson, john, the actor, his mimicry of johnson not correct, ii. , n. ; visits him, iv. , n. . henderson, john (of pembroke college), account of him, iv. - ; johnson and the nonjurors, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . henley-in-arden, ii. , n. , . henley-on-thames, v. , n. . henn, mr., i. , n. . henry ii. gives langton a grant of free-warren, i. ; _history_ of him by lyttelton, ii. . _henry v_, johnson proposes to act it in versailles, ii. , n. . henry viii. threatens the house of commons, iii. . henry iv. of france, johnson censures his epitaph, iv. , n. i. henry, prince, of portugal, happy for mankind had he never been born, iv. . henry, robert, _history of great britain_, iii. ; sale maliciously injured, in. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . hens feeding their young, iv. . hephaestion, iv. . herald's office, i. . heraldry, i. . herbert, george, 'hell is full of good meanings,' ii. , n. . hercules, his shirt, iii. ; johnson, the hercules who strangled serpents, ii. ; 'you, and i and hercules,' iv. , n. . hereditary occupations, v. . hereditary tenures, ii. . _hermes, or a philosophical inquiry concerning universal grammar_, ii. , n. . hermetick philosophy. see _hermippus redivivus_. _hermippus redivivus_, i. ; ii. , n. . _hermit_. see under beattie and parnell. _hermit of teneriffe_. see _theodore the hermit_. hermits, v. . herne, elizabeth, iv. , n. , . herodotus, egyptian mummies, iv. , n. . _heroic epistle_. see mason, w. hertford, first earl of, cock-lane ghost, goes to hear the, i. , n. ; hume, gets a pension for, ii. , n. ; johnson, correspondence with, iii. , n. . hertford, lady, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . hervey, hon. henry, 'harry hervey,' i. ; johnson's love for him, i. ; intimacy with his family, i, ; story of johnson's ingratitude, iii. . hervey, rev. james, _meditations_, v. ; parodied by johnson, v. . hervey, hon. thomas, beauclerk's story of him and johnson, ii. ; johnson, payment to, ii. ; separation from his wife, ii. , , n. ; vicious and genteel, ii. . hervey, mrs., iii. , n. . hervey, miss, iii. , n. . hervey, miss e., iii. ; n. . hesiod, _pasoris lexicon_, iii. ; quoted, v. . hesketh, lady, iii. , n. . hesse, landgrave of, v. . hetherington's charity, ii. . heydon, john, iv. , n. . heywood, i. , n. . hickes, rev. dr., account of him, v. , n. ; mentioned, iv. . hicky, thomas, ii. . hierarchy, english, johnson's reverence for it, iv. , , ; v. ; its theory and practice, iii. . _hierocles, jests of_, i. l ; v. , n. . higgins, dr., iii. , . _high_, johnson's use of the word, iii. , n. . high dutch, resemblance to english, iii. . _high life below stairs_, iv. . highwaymen, evidence of h. walpole, wesley, and baretti as to their frequency, iii. , n. ; gay their orpheus, ii. , n. ; question of shooting them, iii. , , n. . hill, dr. sir john, account of him, ii. , n. , , n. ; wrote _mrs. glasses cookery_, iii. ; in the _heroic epistle_, iv. , n. . hill, joseph (cowper's friend), i. , n. . hill, miss, of hawkestone, v. - . hill, professor, of st. andrews, v. - . hill, sir rowland, of hawkestone, v. . hill, thomas wright, v. , n. . hinchcliffe, john, bishop of peterborough, member of the literary club, i. ; hated whiggism, iii. . hinchinbrook, iii. , n. . hinchman, ----, iv. , n. . hindoos, iv. , n. . _histoire de pascal paoli_, ii. , n. . _historia studiorum_, johnson's, iii. . historian, great abilities not needed, i. ; inferiority of english, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; licence allowed, i. . history, almanac, no better than an, ii. ; authentic, little, ii. ; bolingbroke's caution about reading it, ii. , n. ; bolingbroke, burke, and fox on it, ii. , n. ; character and motives generally unknown, ii. ; iii. ; colouring and philosophy conjecture, ii. ; johnson's indifference to general history, iii. , n. ; recommendation of many histories, iv. , n. ; manners and common life, of, iii. ; v. ; oral at first, v. ; 'painted form the taste of this age,' iii. ; records only lately consulted, i. ; v. ; spirit contrary to minute exactness, i. ; shallow stream of thought in it, ii. ; unsupported by contemporary evidence, v. . _history of the council of trent_, i. . _history of england_, in italian. see martinelli. _history of john bull_, i. , n. ; written by arbuthnot, i. , n. ; quoted by johnson, ii. , n. . _history of the war_, projected, i. . _historyes of troye_, v. , n. . hitch, charles, i. . hoadley, archbishop, i. , n. . hoadley, dr. benjamin, _suspicious husband, the_, ii. , n. . hoadley, dr. john, letter to garrick, ii. , n. . _hob in the well_, ii. . hobbes, thomas, bathurst's verses to him, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . hockley-in-the-hole, iii. , n. ; . hodge, the cat, iv. . hodges, dr., ii. , n. . hog, william, i. . hogarth, william, garrick's acting, describes, iii. , n. ; johnson's belief, describes, i. , n. ; conversation, ib.; finds more like david than solomon, iii. , n. ; like his _idle apprentice_, i. ; takes for an idiot, i. ; _modern midnight conversation_, iii. ; partisan of george ii, i. ; physicians, his, iii. , n. ; prints, his, at slains castle, v. ; at streatham, iii. ; wilkes, print of, v. . hogg, james, _jacobite relics_, v. , n. . _hogshead_ of sense, v. . holbach, baron, anecdote of hume and seventeen atheists, ii. , n. ; _système de la nature_, v. , n. . holbrook, ----, usher at lichfield school, i. . holder, ----, an apothecary, iv. , , , n. . holidays of the church, ii. . holinshed, quoted by boswell, iv. , n. . holland, exportation of coin free, iv. , n. ; dutch fond of draughts and smoking, i. ; free from spleen, iv. ; english books printed there, iii. ; france, pressed by, in , iii. , n. ; johnson's proposed tour there, i. ; iii. ; lead from two cathedrals shipped to it, v. , n. ; populous, iii. ; scotch regiment at sluys, iii. ; suspension of arms in - , iv. , n. ; torture employed there, i. ; trade, i. , n. . holland, the actor, iv. . holland, dr., ii. , n. . holland, first lord, iv. , n. , , n. . holland, third lord, boswell and horace walpole, iv. , n. ; jeffrey's 'narrow english,' ii. , n. ; johnson and fox, iv. , n. ; and garrick, i. , n. . holland house, iv. , n. . hollis, thomas, iv. . holloway, mr. m. m., autograph letters of johnson, iv. , n. ; v. , n. , . holroyd, john (lord sheffield), i. , n. ; ii. , n, ; iii. , n. . holy land, iii. . home, francis, experiments on bleaching, i. . home, henry. see lord kames. home, john, _agis_, ii. , n. ; v. ; athelstanford, minister of, iii. , n. ; bute's errand-goer, ii. ; and favourite, i. , n. ; carlyle, dr. a., described by, v. , n. ; derrick's lines, parodied, i. ; _douglas_, garrick rejects it, v. , n. ; hume and scott admire it, ii. , n. ; johnson despises it, ii. ; not ten good lines in it, v. - ; sheridan gives the author a gold medal for it, ii. ; v. ; lines in it applicable to johnson, iii. ; quotations from it, v. , n. ; elibank, lord, his patron, v. ; _history of the rebellion of _, iii. , n. ; hume's bequest to him, ii. , n. ; dislike of the whigs, iv. , n. ; remark on the incapacity of the period, iii. , n. ; settle, likened to, iii. ; shakespeare of scotland, iv. , n. ; better than shakspeare, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. , , n. . homer, advice given to diomed (glaucus), ii. ; antiquity, his, iii. ; quoted by thucydides, ib.; characters, does not describe, v. ; detached fragments, not made up of, v. ; _iliad_, a collection of pieces, iii. ; prose translation of it suggested, ib.; latin version, ib., n. ; johnson's early translation from him, i. ; knowledge of him, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; 'machinery,' his, iv. ; _odyssey_, johnson's liking for it, iv. ; fox's, ib., n. ; _life of johnson_ likened to it, i. ; quoted, iv. ; prince of poets, ii. ; sarpedon, earl of errol likened to, v. , n. ; shield of achilles, iv. ; v. ; translated by cowper, iii. , n. ; by dacier, ib.; by macpherson, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; by pope, iii. ; virgil, compared with, iii. ; v. , n. ; less talked of than, iii. . homfrey, family of, iv. , n. . _homo caudatus_, ii. . honesty, iii. . honiton, iii. , n. . hood, james, v. . hooke, dr. (at st. cloud), ii. . hooke, nathaniel, writes the duchess of marlborough's _apology_, v. . hooker, richard, i. . hoole, john, account of him, ii. , n. ; iv. ; _ariosto_, iv. ; _cleonice_, ii. , n. ; dinners and suppers at his house, ii. ; iii. , ; iv. , ; essex head club, member of the, iv. ; johnson's bequest to him, iv. , n. ; collects a city club for, iv. ; friendship with him, iv. ; and goldsmith, i. , n. ; last days, iv. , n. , , , n. , ; letters to him, ii. ; iv. - ; recommends him to warren hastings, iv. ; writes the dedication of his _tasso_, i. ; regularly educated, iv. ; uncle, his, the metaphysical tailor, iii. ; iv. ; mentioned, iv. . hoole, mrs., iv. . hoole, rev. mr., johnson's bequest to him, iv. , n. ; reads the service to, iv. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . _hop-garden, the_, ii. . hope, 'a continual renovation of hope,' iv. , n. ; prince of wales's enjoyment of it, iv. ; a species of happiness, i. ; ii. . hope, dr., of edinburgh, iv. - . hope, professor, of edinburgh, v. . hope, sir william, v. . hopeton, second earl of, iv. , n. . horace, art of poetry, a contested passage in the, iii. - ; _carmen seculare_ set to music, iii. ; mr. tasker's version, ib., n. ; cheerfulness, iii. ; inconstancy, ib.; editions collected by douglas, iv. ; gratitude to his father, iii. ; hamilton's _imitations_, iii. ; johnson translates _odes_, i. , and ii. ; i. - ; and _ode_, iv. ; iv. ; journey to _brundusium_ mentioned, iii. ; metres, ii. , n. ; middle-rate poets, on, ii. ; _nil admirari_, ii. ; read as far as the rhone, iv. ; religion, absence of, iv. ; '_sapientiae consultus_,' iii. ; translations of the lyrics, iii. ; francis's, ib.; villa, iii. ; quotations: _odes_, i. , i. ; _odes_, ii. v. , n. ; _odes_, ii. , i. , n. ; _odes_, xii. , iv. , n. ; _odes_, xxii. , ii. ; _odes_, xxiv. , iv. , n. ; _odes_, xxvi. , ii. ; _odes_, xxxiv. , iii. ; _odes_, xxxiv. , iv. , n. ; _odes_, i. , i. ; _odes_, i. , iv. , n. ; _odes_, xvi. , v. ; _odes_, xiv., iii. ; v. , n. ; _odes_, xx. , iv. , n. ; _odes_, i. , ii. ; _odes_, ii. , i. , n. ; _odes_, xxiv. , iii. , n. ; _odes_, ii., iii. ; _odes_, xxx. , ii. , n. ; _odes, iii. , i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _odes_, ix. , v. , n. ; epodes, xv. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. i. , iii. , n. ; _sat_. i. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. iii. , iv. , n. ; _sat_ iv. , ii. ; _sat_. ii. , i. , n. ; _epis_. i. , v. , n. ; _epis_. ii. , iv. , n. ; _epis_. vi. , ii. , n. ; _epis_. vii. , ii. , n. ; _epis_. xi. , v. , n. ; _epis_. xiv. , iii. , n. ; _epis_. ii. , ii. , n. ; _epis_. ii. , i. ; _epis_. ii. , i. ; _epis_. ii. , iv. , n. ; _ars poet_., line. , iii. , n. ; l. , iv. , n. ; l. , v. , n. ; l. , iii. , n. ; l. , ii. ; l. , i. ; l. , v. , n. ; l. , v. , n. ; l. , iii. ; l. , ii. , n. ; l. , v. , n. ; l. , iii. , n. ; l. , v. . n. ; l. , i. : l. , ii. ; l. , i. . horne, dr., president of magdalen college, (afterwards bishop of norwich), garrick's funeral, lines on, iv. , n. ; garrick and mickle, anecdote of, ii. , n. ; johnson's character, iv. , n. ; _letter to adam smith_, v. , n. ; neglected state of churches, v. , n. ; _walton's lives_, projected edition of, ii. , - , . horne, rev. john. see tooke, horne. horneck, the misses, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. . horrebow, niels, iii. . horse-tax, v. . horseman, ----, iv. . horses, old, iv. , . horsley, dr. (afterwards bishop of rochester), account of him, iv. ; member of the essex head club, iv. . horton, mrs., ii. , n. . _hosier's ghost_, v. , n. . hospitality, ancient, ii. ; less need for it now, iv. ; elaborate attention, iv. ; in london, ii. ; promiscuous, ii. ; waste of time, iv. . hospitals, their administration, iii. . hostility, temporary, iv. . hot-houses, iv. . 'hottentot, a respectable,' i. ; not johnson, i. , n. . houghton collection, iv. , n. . house of commons, afraid of the populace, v. ; bolingbroke, described by iii. , n. ; bribed, must be, iii. ; coarse invectives in , iv. ; city, contest with the, in , ii. , n. ; iv. ; corruption, iii. , ; crosby the lord mayor committed by it to prison, iii. ; debates: see debates; dissolution of , ii. ; v. ; of . iv. , n. ; election-committees, iv. ; figure made by insignificant men, v. ; influence of the crown, motion on the, iv. ; influence of the peers, v. ; johnson's account of it as it originally was, iii. ; anecdote of henry viii, ib.; only once inside the building, i. - ; middlesex election: see under middlesex election; mixed body, iii. ; nowell's sermon on january , iv. ; power of the nation's money, iv. ; relation to the people, iv. ; speaking at the bar, iii. ; wilkes's advice, ib.; speaking before a committee, iv. ; counsel paid for speaking, iv. ; speeches, how far affected by, iii. - ; tenacity of forms, iv. ; wilkes, afraid of, iv. , n. i; resolution to expel him expunged, ii. . house of lords, copy-right case, ii. ; corporation of stirling case, ii. ; dissatisfaction with its judicature, ii. , n. ; douglas cause, ii. , n. ; lay peers in law cases, iii. ; 'noble stands,' made, v. ; scotch schoolmaster's case, ii. , ; wise and independent, iii. . housebreakers, iv. . hoveden, iv. , n. . howard, hon. edward, ii. , n. . howard, general sir george, ii. , n. . howard, lord, v. , n. . howard, sir robert, ii. , n. . howard,--, of lichfield, i. , , ; iii. . howard,--, of lichfield, the younger, iii. . howell, james, in the fleet, v. , n. ; _'stavo bene,'_ &c., ii. , n. . _howell's state trials_, somerset's case, iii. , n. . huddesford, rev. dr., vice-chancellor of oxford, i. , ; johnson's letter to him, i. . _hudibras. see_ butler, samuel. huet, bishop, iii. , n. . huggins, william, quarrel with warton, iv. ; mentioned, i. . hughes, john, _memoir_ by duncombe, iii. , n. ; _sieges of damascus_, iii. , n. ; spenser, edits, i. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . hugill, an attorney, iii. , n. . hulk, the justitia, iii. . humanity, its common rights, iv. , . humble-bee, v. , n. . hume, david, account of his publications, v. , n. ; adams, dr., answers his _essay on miracles_, i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. , n. a; v. ; adams the architects, ii. , n. ; agutter's sermon, attacked in, iv. , n. ; american war, iv. , n. ; ancient history, ii. , n. ; art, indifference to, i. , n. ; atheists in paris, dines with seventeen, ii. , n. ; attacks, reply to, ii. , n. ; benefited by some, v. ; beattie's _essay on truth: see_ beattie; blacklock, the blind poet, i. , n. i; v. , n. ; books, the small number of good, iii. , n. ; boswell intimate with him, ii. , n , ; n. ; v ; preserves memoirs of him, ib.; boufflers, mme. de, ii. , n. ; carlyle's, dr., account of him, v. , n. ; change of ministry in , expects a, ii. , n. ; charles ii, partiality for, ii. , n. ; cheyne, dr., letter to, iii. , n. ; composed with facility, v. , n. ; conceit, his, v. ; conversation, ii. , n. ; death, said that he had no fear of, ii. ; iii. ; dedications, iv. , n. ; deist, denied that he was a, ii. ; _dialogues on natural religion_, i. , n, ; dines with those who had written against him, ii. , n. ; douglas cause, ii. , n. ; education and disposition, opinion on, ii. , n. ; england on the decline, ii. , n. ; english and french politeness, iv. , n. ; english, his hatred of the, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; neglect of polite letters, ii. , n. ; prejudice against the scotch, ii. , n. ; prose, iii. , n. ; and scotch education, iii. , n. ; _essays moral and political_, sale of his, iv. ; fame, his, v. ; fergusson's _essay on civil society_, v. , n. ; france on the decline, thinks, ii. , n. ; his reception there, ii. , n. ; french, ignorance of, i. , n. ; french prisoners, account of the, i. , n. ; germany, barbarians of, ii. , n. ; gibbon's praise of him, ii. , n. ; glasgow professorship, sought a, v. , n. ; 'gone to milk the bull,' i. ; happiness, equality in, ii. ; iii. ; happy with small means, i. , n. ; henry's _history_, reviews, iii. , n. ; _history of england_, his alterations in it on the tory side, iv. , n. ; adam smith's _letter_ prefixed, v. , n. ; slow sale of the first volume, v. , n. ; written for want of occupation, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. ; hobbist, a, v. ; home, john, and shakespeare, ii. , n. ; home, bequest to, ii. , n. ; house, his, in james court, v. , n. ; in st. david street, v. , n. ; hurd and the warburtonian school, iv. , n. ; hypocrite, longs to be a successful, iv. , n. ; 'infidel pensioner,' called an, ii. ; infidels, attacks, iii. , n. ; infidelity, his death-bed, iii. ; infidelity, his, less read, iv. ; johnson and convocation, i. ; _dictionary_, absurdities in, ii. , n. ; in the green room, i. ; had not (in ) read his _history_, ii. ; likes him better than robertson, v. , n. ; violent against him, v. ; kames and voltaire, ii. , n. ; keeper of the advocates' library, v. , n. ; leechman's _sermon on prayer_, v. , n. ; _life_, with adam smith's letter prefixed, iii. ; macdonald, sir james, i. , n. ; macpherson's _homer_ and _history of britain_, ii. , n. ; mallet and bolingbroke, i. , n. ; mallet's _life of marlborough_, iii. , n. ; middle class in scotland, absence of a, ii. , n. ; millar, andrew, i. , n. ; ministry, imbecility of lord north's, iii. , n. ; _miracles, essay on_, i. ; iii. : see under dr. adams and beattie; monboddo's _origin of language_, ii. , n. ; murray (lord mansfield), at lovat's trial, speech of, i. , n. ; national debt, ii. , n. ; neglect of a book, iii. , n. ; new testament, ignorance of the, ii. ; iii. ; _ossian_, ii. , n. ; _parties in general_, iii. , n. ; _parties of great britain_, ii. , n. ; pension, ii. , n. ; philosopher, anecdote of a, iii. , n. ; poker club, ii. , n. ; _political discourses_, ii. , n. ; pretender's base character, v. , n. ; visit to london, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; priests and dissenters, v. , n. ; 'principle, has no,' iv. , n. ; v. ; reynolds's allegorical picture, v. , n. ; resistance, doctrine of, ii. . n. : robertson's _scotland_, price offered for, iii. , n. ; rousseau's visit to england and his pension, ii. , n. , , n. ; russia, barbarians of, ii. , n. ; sanquhar's trial, v. , n. ; scotch writers, foolish praise of, iv. , n. ; scotticisms, ii. ; corrected by strahan, v. , n. ; second-sight, ii. , n. ; select society, member of the, v. , n. ; sentiments, unanimity and contrariety of, iii. , n. ; smith's, adam, _letter_, v. ; answered by dr. home, ib., n. ; smith's, suggested knocking of his head against, iii. ; soldiers, iii. , n. ; strahan, leaves his mss. to, ii. , n. ; style, i. ; swift's style, ii. , n. ; tory by chance, iv. ; v. ; toryism, growth of his, iv. , n. ; touchstones of party-men, i. , n. ; tragedy, anecdote of a, iii. , n. ; _treatise of human nature_, i. , n. ; tytler, attacked by, v. ; 'voltaire, an echo of,' ii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . hume, mrs., james thomson's grandmother, iii. . _humiliating_, ii. . hummums, the, iii. . humour. see good humour. humour, scotch nation not distinguished for it, iv. . _humours of ballamagairy_, ii. , n. . humphry, ozias, account of him, iv. , n. ; johnson's letters to him, iv. - ; his miniature, iv. , n. . _humphry clinker_. see smollett. hungary, hospitality to strangers, iv. . hunter, john, the surgeon, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . hunter, dr. william, iv. . hunter, ----, johnson's schoolmaster, i. - ; ii. , . hunter, miss, iv. , n. . hunter, mrs., i. . hunting, v. . huntingdon, tenth earl of, iii. , n. . hurd, richard, bishop of worcester, accounts for everything systematically, iv. ; addison, impertinent notes on, iv. , n. ; archbishop, declined to be, iv. ; boswell attacks him, iv. , n. ; _cowley's select works_, edits, iii. , ; evil spirits, on, iv. ; v. , n. ; horace, notes on, iii. , n. ; hume, attacks, iv. , n. ; johnson praises him, iv. ; _moral and political dialogues_, iv. ; _parr's tracts by warburton and a warburtonian_, iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n, . 'hurgoes,' i. . hussey, rev. john, johnson's letter to him, iii. . hussey, rev. dr. thomas, iv. . hutcheson, francis, on _merit_, iv. , n. . hutchinson, john, _moral philosophy_, iii. . hutchison, william, of kyle, v. , n. . hutton, the moravian, iv. . hutton, william (of birmingham), bedlam, visits, ii. , n. ; birmingham, cost of living at, i. , n. ; _derby, history of_, iii. , n. ; sufferings as a factory-boy, iii. , n. . hyder ali, v. , n. . hypocaust, a roman, v. . hypochondria, i. , ; iii. . see under boswell, johnson, and melancholy. _hypochondriack, the_, iv. , n. . hypocrisy, little suspected by johnson, i. , n. ; middle state between it and conviction, iv. ; no man a hypocrite in his pleasures, iv. . _hypocrite, the_, ii. . i. iceland, horrebow's _natural history_, iii. ; johnson talks of visiting it, i. ; iii. ; iv. , n. . icolmkill. see iona. _idea_, improperly used, iii. . idleness, active sports not idleness, i. ; hidden from oneself, i. , n. ; miseries of it, i. ; upon principle, iv. ; why we are weary when idle, ii. . _idler, the_ (an earlier paper than johnson's), i. , n. . _idler, the_ (johnson's), account of it, i. - ; betty broom, story of, iv. ; collected in volumes, i. ; johnson draws his own portrait in mr. sober, iii. , n. ; writes on his mother's death, i. , n. , , n. ; mottoes, i. ; no. omitted in collected vols., i. ; pirated, i. , n. ; profits on first edition, i. , n. ; tragedians, a hit at, v. , n. . iffley, iv. . ignorance, guilt of voluntarily continuing it, ii. ; in men of eminence, ii. ; people content to be ignorant, i. . ilam. see islam. _ilk_, defined in johnson's _dictionary_, iii. , n. ; 'johnson of that ilk,' ii. , n. . illegitimate children, ii. . images, worship of, iii. , . _imagination_, iii. . imitations of poems, i. , n. , . imlac, why so spelt, iv. . see also under _rasselas_. immortality, belief of it impressed on all, ii. ; of brutes, ii. . impartiality in telling lies, ii. . impiety, inundation of it due to the revolution, v. ; repressed in johnson's company, iv. . importance, imaginary, iii. . impostors, literary, douglas, dr., i. ; du halde, ii. , n. ; eccles, rev. mr., i. ; innes, rev. dr., i. ; rolt, e., i. . _impransus_, i. . impressions, trusting to them, iv. - ; early ones, iv. , n. . _in theatro_, ii. , n. . ince, richard, a contributor to the spectator, iii. . _inchkenneth, ode on_, ii. ; v. . _incidit in scyllam cupiens vitare charybdim_, iv. , n. . incivility, iv. . income, living within one's, iv. . indecision of mind, iii. . _index-scholar_, iv. , n. , . india, despotic governor the best, iv. l ; 'don't give us india,' v. ; grant of natural superiority, iv. ; hereditary trades, v. , johnson's wish to visit it, iii. ; n. , ; judges there engaging in trade, ii. ; mapping of it, ii. ; nursery of ruined fortunes, iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . see east indies and indies. indian bill, fox's, ministry dismissed on it, i. , n. ; lee's piece of parchment, iii. , n. . indians, american, story told of them by two officers, iii. ; v. ; their weak children die, iv. ; wronged, i. , n. . see natives. indictment, prosecution by, iii. , n. . indies, the, discovery of the passage thither a misfortune, i. , n. ; proverb about bringing home their wealth, iii. . _indifferently_, i. . indolence, iv. . inferiority, 'half a guinea's worth of it,' ii. . infidelity abroad, iv. ; affectation of showing courage, ii. ; gloom of it, ii. ; outcry about it, ii. . see conjugal infidelity. infidels, compared with atrocious criminals, iii. ; credulity, their, v. ; ennui, must suffer from, ii. , n. ; keeping company with them, iii. - ; number in england, ii. ; treating them with civility, ii. ; writings allowed to pass without censure, v. ; writers drop into oblivion, iv. . influence, america might be governed by it, iii. ; crown influence salutary, ii. ; bute's attempt to govern by, ii. ; lost and recovered, iii. ; vote of the house of commons against it, iv. ; in domestic life, iii. , n. ; ireland governed by it, iii. ; property, in proportion to, v. ; wealth, from, v. . influenza, ii. . ingenhousz, dr., ii. , n. . ingratitude, complaints of, iii. ; lewis xiv's saying, ii. . innes, or innys, rev. dr., fraud about dr. campbell, i. ; about psalmanazar, i. , n. ; iii. - , - . innkeepers, soldiers quartered on them, ii. , n. . innocent, punishment of the, iv. . innovation, iv. . inns, felicity of england in the, ii. ; shenstone's lines, ii. . innys, william, the bookseller, iv. , n. , . inoculation, iv. ; v. . inquisition, i. . insanity. see johnson, madness, and madness. inscriptions. see epitaphs. insects, their numerous species, ii. . insurrection of , boswells projected _history_ of it, iii. , ; voltaire's account, ib., n. ; hard to write impartially, v. . intellectual improvement, due to subordination, ii. . intellectual labour, mankind's aversion to it, i. . intentions, ii. ; hell paved with good intentions, ii. . interest, how far we are governed by it, ii. . interest of money, iii. . intoxication, said to be good for the health, v. ; see drunkenness, spirituous liquors, wine; and johnson, intoxicated, and wine; and boswell, wine. _introduction to the game of draughts_, i. . _introduction to the political state of great britain_, i. . _introduction to the world displayed_, iv. . intuition, iv. . invasion, fears of an, iii. , , n. . invitation, going into the society of friends without one, ii. . invocation of saints. see saints. inward light, ii. . ireland and irish, accent, ii. ; ancient state, i. ; iii. ; baronets, traditional, v. , n. ; belanager, iii. , n. ; british government, barbarous, ii. ; burke's saying about the roman catholics, ii. , n. ; catholics persecuted by protestants, ii. ; penal code against them, ii. , n. ; their students abroad, iii. (see below under wesley); clergy, ii. ; condemned to ignorance, ii. , n. ; corn-laws, ii. ; corrupt government, iv. , n. ; cottagers, ii. , n. ; 'drained' by england, v. ; drogheda, ii. ; drunkenness of the gentry, v. , n. ; dublin, derrick's poem to it, i. ; capital, only a worse, iii. ; _evening post_, iv. , n. ; freedom of the guild given to chief justice pratt, ii. , n. ; 'not so bad as iceland,' iv. , n. ; physicians, iii. , n. ; rolt's fraud, i. ; theatre, _douglas_ acted, ii. , n. ; riot in it, i. ; miss philips the singer, iv. ; university, burke and goldsmith at trinity college, i. ; flood's bequest for the study of irish, i. , n. ; m.a. degree in vain sought for johnson, i. ; ll.d. degree conferred, i. ; duelling, ii. , n. ; export duties, ii. , n. ; fair people, a, ii. ; falkland, ii. ; family pride, v. ; ferns, iv. ; french, contrasted with, ii. , n. ; grattan's speeches, iv. ; _history_, johnson exhorts maxwell to write its, ii. ; hospitality to strangers, iv. ; independence in , iv. , n. ; _influence_, governed by, ii. ; insolvent debtors' relief bill of , iii. , n. ; irish chairmen in london, ii. ; johnson averse to visit it, iii. ; kindness for the irish, iii. ; pity for them, ii. ; prejudice against them, i. ; lady's verses on ireland, iii. ; landlords and tenants, v. , n. ; language, i. , n. , ; ii. , ; iii. , ; literature, i. ; londonderry, iv. ; v. ; lucan, v. , n. ; lucas, dr., i. ; mask of incorruption never worn, iv. , n. ; minority prevails over majority, ii. , ; mix with the english better than the scotch do, ii. ; iv. , n. ; nationality, free from extreme, ii. ; orchards never planted by irishmen, iv. , n. ; parliament, duration of, i. , n. ; long debates in , i. , n. ; peers created in , iii. , n. ; players, succeed as, ii. ; pope's lines on swift, ii. , n. ; premium-scheme, i. ; professors at oxford and paris irish, i. , n. ; protestant rebels in , iii. , n. ; rebellion ready to break out in , iii. , n. ; scholars incorrect in _quantity_, ii. ; school of the west, iii. ; swift, their great benefactor, ii. ; thurot's descent, iv. l , n. ; _transactions of the royal irish academy_, iv. ; union wished for by artful politicians, iii. ; johnson's warning against it, ib.; volunteers, not allowed to raise, iii. , n. ; wesley against toleration, v. , n. ; william iii and the irish parliament, ii. . _irene_, altered for the stage and acted, i. , n. , ; nine nights' run, i. , n. ; never brought on the stage again, i. , n. ; begun at edial, i. l ; continued at greenwich, i. ; finished at lichfield, i. ; refused by fleetwood, i. ; offered to a bookseller, ib.; blank verse, iv. , n. ; cave, shown to, i. ; dedication, no, ii. , n. ; demetrius's speech quoted, i. ; dramatic power wanting, i. , , n. , ; _epilogue_, i. ; hill, aaron, present at the benefit, i. , n. ; johnson hears it read aloud, iv. ; reads it himself, ib., n. ; his receipts from the acting and copyright, i. ; original sketch of it, i. ; pot admires it, iv. , n. ; _prologue_, i. ; quotable lines, i. , n. . irish gentleman, an, on the blackness of negroes, i. . irish painter, an, johnson's _ofellus_, i. . iron-works at holywell, v. . irvine, mr., of drum, v. . irving, rev. edward, iv. , n. . irwin, captain, ii. . isis, the, iv. . islam, boswell and johnson visit it, i. , n. ; iii. ; johnson and the thrales, v. , , . island, retiring to one, v. . isle of man, boswell's projected tour, iii. ; burke's motto, ib.; sacheverell's _account_. see under sacheverell, w.; mentioned, v. . italy, condemned prisoners, treatment of, iv. ; copy-money, iii. ; _guide-books_, v. ; inferiority in not having seen it, iii. , ; johnson's wish to visit it: see johnson, italy; revival of letters, iii. ; silk-throwing, iii. , n. . ivy lane club. see under clubs. j. _jack the giant killer_, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . jackson, henry, of lichfield, ii. ; iii. . jackson, rev. mr., i. , n. . jackson, richard, all-knowing, iii. ; commends johnson's _journey_, iii. . jackson, thomas, michael johnson's servant, i. . jacob, giles, v. , n. . jacobites, identified with tories, i. , n. . jacobitism. see under boswell and johnson. jamaica, constitutions of, iii. ; den of tyrants, ii. ; story of a young man going there, iv. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. . james i (of england), _daemonology_, iii. ; johnson, resemblance to, v. ; nairne, witticism about, v. , n. ; raleigh's trial, i. , n. ; sanquhar's trial, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . james ii, deposition needful, i. ; ii. ; george iii, compared with, iv. , n. ; king, very good, ii. ; sedley, catherine, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. . james i of scotland, ii. . james iv, patron of boswell's family, ii. ; v. . james v, v. . james, king (the pretender), i. . james, dr. robert, death, i. ; iii. ; _dissertation on fevers_, iii. , n. ; greek, knowledge of, iv. , n. ; johnson describes his character, i. , ; learnt physic from him, iii. ; opinion of his medicines, iv. ; dedication to his _medicinal dictionary_, i. ; assisted him in writing the _medicinal dictionary_, iii. ; powder, his, its sale, iii. ; traduced, iii. , n. ; suspected of being not sober for twenty years, iii. , n. ; wrote first line of the epigram _ad lauram_, i. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . janes, ----, a naturalist, v. , , , n. . jansenists, iii. , n. . january , fast of, ii. ; old port and solemn talk on it, iii. . _janus vitalis_, iii. . japan, five persecutions, v. . japix, gisbert, _rymelerie_, i. . jarvis, ----, a birmingham person, i. , n. . jarvis, or jervis, the maiden name of johnson's wife, i. , n. , , n. . _jealous wife, the_, i. . jealousy, little people given to it, iii. . jefferies, judge, v. , n. . jeffrey, francis (lord jeffrey), birth, v. , n. ; helps boswell to bed, ib.; _edinburgh review_, payment to writers, iv. , n. ; scotch accent, loses his, ii. , n. ; title, his, v. , n, ; trees in scotland, ii. , n. . jenkinson, right hon. charles (first earl of liverpool), account of him, iii. , n. ; johnson's letter to him, iii. - . jennings, mr., iii. . jenyns, soame, benevolence as a motive to action, iii. ; character, his, iii. , n. ; conversion, i. , n. ; iii. ; 'epitaph,' i. , n. ; _free inquiry into the nature and origin of evil_, i. , ; johnson's _review_ of it, i. - ; ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; johnson, attacks, i. ; _view of the internal evidence, &c._, iii. , n. , ; _world_, contributor to the, i. , n. . jephson, robert, i. , n. . jersey, v. , n. . jersey, earl of, i. , n. . jerusalem, ii. - . _jests of hierocles_, i. . jesuits, attacked by psalmanazar, iii. ; persecuted in japan, v. , n. . jewish kings, v. . jewitt, mr. l., ii. , n. . jocularity, low, i. . joddrel (jodrell), r. p., iv. , , . jodrell, sir r. p., m.d., iv. . john, king, i. . _john bull_, v. , n. . _johnny armstrong_, quoted by johnson for its abruptness, i. ; in holyrood, v. . johnson, b., the actor, iv. , n. . johnson, andrew (johnson's uncle), great at boxing and wrestling, iv. , n. ; v. , n. . johnson, charles, author of _the adventures of a guinea_, v. , n. . johnson, d., i. , n. . johnson, elizabeth (dr. johnson's wife, h. porter's widow, maiden name jarvis or jervis), i. , n. ; account of her, i. ; her age, i. , n. ; character, i. , n. ; death, i. , n. , ; epitaph, i. , n. ; ford's ghost, iii. ; garrick's mimicry of her, i. ; hampstead lodgings, i. ; indulgencies, i. ; johnson's conversation, admires, i. ; lodgings in her last illness, iv. , n. ; marriage, i. ; ii. ; marriage-settlement, i. , n. ; personal appearance, i. , ; ; _rambler_, admiration of the, i. ; _tetty_ or _tetsey_, i. ; ii. ; wedding-ring, i. ; mentioned, i. , ; iii. . see johnson, wife. johnson, fisher, and his sons (johnson's cousins), iv. , n. . johnson, 'the gigantick,' i. , n. . johnson, hester (_stella_), iv. , n. ; v. . johnson, the horse-rider, i. ; iii. . johnson, michael (johnson's father), account of him, i. - ; accompanies his son to oxford, i. ; bankrupt, i. - ; iv. , n. ; book-trade, i. ; chester fair, at, v. ; death, i. ; disapproved of tea, i. , n. ; epitaph, i. , n. ; iv. ; excise prosecution, i. , n. ; fire in the parlour on sunday, v. ; 'foolish old man,' i. ; house, his, iv. , n. ; jacobite, a, i. ; marriage register, i. , n. ; melancholy, i. ; oath of abjuration, signs the, ii. ; observer, no careless, i. , n. ; sheriff of lichfield, i. , n. ; uttoxeter market, at, iv. . johnson, mr., in blackmore's _lay monastery_, v. , n. . johnson, nathanael (johnson's younger brother), complains of his brother, i. , n. ; death, i. , , n. ; epitaph, ib.; iv. ; letter from him, i. , n. ; succeeds his father, i. . johnson, samuel, rev., i. . johnson, samuel, chief events of his life. (for his publications see also i. - ; for a complete list of his travels and visits, iii. - ; and for his residences, iii. , n. .) birth, i. . 'touched by queen anne, i. . (about) enters lichfield school, i. . enters stourbridge school, i. . returns home, i. . enters pembroke college, i. . translates pope's _messiah_, i. . returns home, i. , n. . death of his father, i. . usher at market bosworth, i. . at birmingham, i. , , n. . returns to lichfield, i. . publishes proposals for printing _politian_, i. . returns to birmingham, i. . offers to write for the _gent. mag_. i. . publishes _lobo's abyssinia_, i. . marries mrs. porter and opens a school at edial, i. , n. , . visits london with garrick, i. . returns to lichfield and finishes _irene_, i. . removes to london, i. . becomes a writer in the _gent. mag_. i. . _london_, i. . begins to translate father paul sarpi's _history_, i. . _life of father paul sarpi_, i. . seeks the mastership of appleby school and the degree of master of arts, i. - . _life of boorhaave_, i. . _marmor norfolciense_, i. . _lives of blake, drake, and barretier_, i. . begins to write the _debates_, i. . _debates_, i. . _debates_, i. . _lives of barman and sydenham_, i. . _proposals for printing bibliotheca harleiana_, i. . finishes the debates, i. . life of savage, i. . _miscellaneous observations on macbeth_, i. . sketching outlines of his dictionary, i. , , n. . gets to know levett, i. . _prologue on the opening of drury lane theatre_, i. . _plan for a dictionary of the english language_, i. . writing the _dictionary_. _life of roscommon_, i. . _the vision of theodore the hermit_, i. . writing the _dictionary_. _vanity of human wishes_, i. . _irene_ acted, i. . forms the ivy lane club, i. , n. . living in gough square, iii. , n. . writing the _dictionary_. begins the _rambler_, i. . _prologue for the benefit of milton's grand-daughter, i. . writing the _dictionary_. _the rambler_. lauder's fraud exposed, i. . _life of cheynel_, i. . writing the _dictionary_. ends _the rambler_, i. . death of his wife, i. . miss williams begins to reside with him, i. . gets to know reynolds, i. , n. . writing the _dictionary_. writes for _the adventurer_, i. . writing the _dictionary_. _life of cave_, i. . visits oxford, i. . gets to know murphy, i. , n. . letter to lord chesterfield, i. . becomes an m.a. of oxford, i. . publishes the _dictionary_, i. . projects a biblithèque, i. . gets to know langton (about this year), i. , n. . publishes an abridgement of the _dictionary_, i. . writes for _the universal visitor_, i. . superintends and writes for _the literary magazine_, i. . _life of sir thomas browne_, i. . _proposals for an edition of shakespeare_, i. . writes for the _literary magazine_, i. . editing _shakespeare_, i. , n. . editing _shakespeare_, i. , n. . begins _the idler_, i. . gets to know dr. burney, i. . _the idler_, i. . death of his mother, i. . _rasselas_, i. . leaves gough square and goes into chambers, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . visits oxford, i. . gets to know beauclerk, i. , n. . ends _the idler_, i. . perhaps editing _shakespeare_, i. . in inner temple lane, iii. , n. . visits lichfield in the winter of - , i. . pensioned, i. . trip to devonshire, i. . cock lane ghost imposture exposed, i. . gets to know boswell, i. . trip to harwich, i. . visits oxford, iii. . _character of collins_, i. . _life of ascham_, i. . visits langton in lincolnshire, i. . literary club founded, i. . visits dr. percy at easton maudit, i. . visits cambridge, i. . becomes an ll.d. of dublin, i. . suffers from a severe illness, i. , . gets to know the thrales (either this year or in ), i. , . engages in politics with w. g. hamilton, i. . publishes his _shakespeare_, i. . takes a house in johnson's court, ii. ; iii. , n. . contributes to mrs. williams's _miscellanies_, ii. . spends more than three months at streatham, ii. . visits oxford, ii. . interview with the king, ii. . spends near six months in lichfield, ii. . _prologue to the good-natured man_. ii. . visits oxford, iii. . appointed professor in ancient literature to the royal academy, ii. . visits oxford, lichfield and ashbourne, ii. ; iii. . visits brighton, ii. . appears as a witness at baretti's trial, ii. . _the false alarm_, ii. . visits lichfield and ashbourne, iii. . _falkland's islands_, ii. . revises the _dictionary_, ii. , n. . visits lichfield and ashbourne, ii. . revises the _dictionary_, ii. , n. . visits lichfield and ashbourne, iii. . publishes the fourth edition of the _dictionary_, ii. . attempts to learn the low dutch language, ii. . tour of scotland, ii. ; v. . visits oxford, ii. . begins his _journey to the western islands_, ii. . death of goldsmith, ii. , n. . tour to north wales, ii. ; v. . visits burke at beaconsfield, ii. , n. ; v. . _the patriot_, ii. . finishes his _journey to the western islands_, ii. . publishes his _journey to the western islands_, ii. . _taxation no tyranny_, ii. . becomes an ll.d. of oxford, ii. . visits oxford, lichfield and ashbourne, ii. ; iii. . tour to france, ii. . visits oxford, lichfield, and ashbourne with boswell, ii. . projected tour to italy abandoned, iii. . visits bath, iii. . first dinner with wilkes, iii. . visits brighton, iii. . engages to write _the lives of the poets_, iii. . exerts himself in behalf of dr. dodd, iii. . meets boswell at ashbourne, iii. . writing _the lives of the poets_, iii. . visits warley camp, iii. . publishes the first four volumes of the _lives_, iii. . writing the last six volumes, ib. death of garrick, iii. . visits lichfield and ashbourne, iii. . writing the last six volumes of the _lives_, iii. . death of beauclerk, iii. . visits brighton, iii. . publishes the last six volumes of the _lives_, iv. . death of thrale. iv. . second dinner with wilkes, iv. . visits southill, iv. . visits oxford, birmingham, lichfield, and ashbourne, iv. . death of levett, iv. . visits oxford, iv. . takes leave of streatham, iv. . visits brighton, iv. . has a stroke of the palsy, iv. . visits rochester, iv. . visits heale, iv. . death of mrs. williams, iv. . threatened with a surgical operation, iv. . founds the essex head club, iv. . attacked by spasmodic asthma, iv. . confined by illness for days, iv. , n. . visits oxford with boswell, iv. . projected tour to italy, iv. . mrs. thrale's second marriage, iv. . visits lichfield, ashbourne, birmingham, and oxford, iv. - . death of allen, iv. . death, iv. . johnson, samuel, abbreviations of his friends' names, ii. ; iv. , n. ; aberdeen, freeman of, v. ; abodes, list of his: see johnson, habitations; absence of mind: see johnson, peculiarities; abstinence easy to him, i. , n. , ; iv. , , n. ; absurd stories told of him, i. ; abused in a newspaper, iv. ; accounts, resolves to keep, iv. , n. ; acquaintance, making new, iv. ; ib., n. ; widely-varied, iii. (see johnson, society); actors: see players; _adversaria_, i. ; 'agreeable, extremely,' ii. , n. ; alchymy, not a positive unbeliever in, ii. ; alertness, no, v. ; _alfred, life of_, projects a, i. ; alms-giving, i. , n. ; ii. ; ambition, iii. ; americans, feelings towards the: see america; amused, easily, ii. ; v. ; amusements, his, iii. ; ancestors, asked in the highlands about his, v. , n. ; [greek: anax andron], i. ; anecdotes, love of: see anecdotes; _annales_: see johnson, diary; annihilation, horror of, iii. , , n. ; anniversaries, observed, i. ; anxiety about his writings, felt no, iii. ; apology, ready to make an, iv. , , n. , ; _apophthegms_, i. , n. ; appius, compared by burke to, iv. , n. ; appleby school, applies for mastership of, i. ; apprentice, talking to an, ii. ; approbation, pleasure of, iv. , n. ; arabic, wishes to study, iv. ; architecture and statuary, opinion of, ii. ; arguing before an audience, iii. ; iv. , , ; burke refers to it, iii. , n. ; butt end of the pistol, ii. ; iv. ; v. ; delight in it, ii. , n. ; described by burke, iv. , n. ; hamilton, iv. iii; reynolds, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; seaford, lord, iv. , n. ; either side indifferently, ii. ; iii. ; kick of the tartar horse, ii. , n. ; promptitude for it, ii. ; iii. , n. ; reasoned close or wide, iv. ; v. ; rudeness, iii. , n. ; spirit of contradiction, v. , ; thinking which side he should take, iii. ; wrong side, on the, iii. ; iv. iii, ; see johnson, talk; argyll street, room in, iv. , n. ; _armiger_, i. ; ii. , n. i; art: see painting; art of making people talk of what they know best, v. ; assertions, love of contradicting, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; attacked in the streets, ii. ; attacks, never but once replied to, i. ; enjoyed them, ii. , ; iv. ; looked on them as part of his consequence, iv. ; v. , n. : see attacks; attendance, required the least, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; v. , n. ; auchinleck, hopes again to see, iv. , ; auction of his effects, i. , n. ; austere, but not morose, ii. ; author, an, without pen, ink, or paper, i. , n. ; authors asking his opinion: see authors; autobiography, projects his, i. , n. ; awe, admiration, love, regarded with, v. ; awe of him, felt by aberdeen professors, v. ; lord b----, iv. , n. ; englishmen of great eminence, iii. ; fox, iii. ; at mrs. garrick's, iv. ; by glasgow professors, v. ; at allan ramsay's, iii. ; by dr. robertson, v. ; by scotch _literati_, ii. ; by a welsh parson, v. , n. ; described, by mdme. d'arblay, v. , n. : see below, johnson, feared; _bacon, life of_, projects a, iii. ; ball, goes to a, iv. , n. ; baltic, wishes to go up the, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; bargainer, bad, _rasselas_, i. ; _lives of the poets_, iii. , n. ; barry's picture, introduced in, iv. , n. ; beadle within him, the, iii. ; bear, a, boswell's bear, ii. , n. i; v. , n. ; dancing bear, ii. ; gibbon's sarcasm, ii. : _he-bear_, iv. , n. ; 'like a word in a catch,' ii. ; 'nothing of the bear but his skin,' ii. ; _ursa major_, v. ; beats osborne, the bookseller, i. ; 'beat many a fellow,' i. , n. ; belabours his confessor, iv. : belief, angry at attacks on his, iii. ; 'believes nothing _but_ the bible,' i. , n. ; benevolence, iii. , , , ; iv. , ; to an outcast woman, iv. ; concealed, iv. ; bible, reads the whole, ii. , n. ; reads the greek testament at verses every sunday, ii. ; bigotry, freedom from it, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; iv. - ; instance of it, v. , n. ; _biographia britannica_, asked to edit the, iii. ; biography, excellence in, i. , ; love of it: see biography; _birmingham journal_, writes for the, i. ; birth and rank, respect for, ii. l , l , l, ; v. , ; birth and parentage, i. ; birth-day, disliked mention of his, at ashbourne, iii. ; at dunvegan, v. ; escaped from streatham on it, iii. , n. ; cheerful entry in , iii. ; gave a dinner on it in , iii. , n. ; iv. l . n. ; in , iv. , n. ; reflected on it, v. ; kept at streatham, iii. , n. ; bishop, looks like a, v. ; bleeding, undergoes, iii. , , n. ; blood, irritability of his, iv. ; blushing, iii. ; bolt-court, house--ii. ; drawing-room, iii. ; kitchen, iii. ; prints in his dining-room, iv. , n. ; silver salvers, iv. ; garden, ii. , n. ; iii. ; stone-seats, iv. ; boswell in it for the last time, iv. : see johnson, household; bones, horror at, v. , ; books, bidding them farewell, iv. ; judgment as to their success, iv. ; loan of them, iv. , n. ; runs to them, ii. ; tears out their heart, iii. ; uses them slovenly, ii. : see books, and johnson, library; book-binding, i. , n. ; booksellers, in a company of, iii. ; borrowed small sums, iv. ; boswell: see boswell and johnson, letters; bow to an archbishop, iv. ; _bow-wow_ way, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; boxing, conversant in the art of, v. , n. ; breakfast, i. , n. ; ii. , ; iv. ; _in splendour_, iii. ; breeding, good, iii. , n. ; brother, his pretended, v. ; 'buck, a young english,' v. , ; buffoonery, incomparable at, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; bull, made a, iv. ; burke content to have rung the bell to him, iv. - ; respect for him, iv. ; attacked by him, v. , n. : see burke; burlesque, turns a dispute into, iv. , n. ; business, love of, clarendon press, ii. ; dr. taylor's law suit, iii. , n. ; , n. ; thrale's brewery, iv. , n. ; calculation, fondness for, i. ; ii. - , ; iii. ; error in, ib. n. ; forgets to use it, iii. , n. ; 'caliban of literature,' ii. , , n. ; _called_, iv. ; candour, iv. , ; cards, wished he had learnt, iii. ; v. ; careless of documents, v. ; caricatured, glad to be, v. , n. ; cat, hodge, his, iv. ; catalogue of his works: see johnson, works; cathedrals, had seen most of the, iii. , , ; ceremonies of life, attentive to the, iii. , n. ; chambers: see johnson, habitations; chancellor, lord, might have been, iii. ; character, his, drawn by himself, iii. , n. ; iv. , , n. , ; by baretti, iii. , n. ; boswell, iv. , n. , - ; v. - ; burney, miss, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; dodd, iii. , n. ; hamilton, iv. ; mickle, iv. ; parr, iv. , n. ; at ramsay's, iii. ; reynolds: see reynolds, johnson; robertson, iii - ; taylor, iii. ; towers, iv. , n. ; like baker's character of james i, v. ; bayle's of menage, iv. , n. ; boerhaave's, iv. , n. ; clarendon's character of falkland, iv. , n. ; dryden's, i. , n. ; iv. ; harington's of bishop still, iv. , n. ; milton's, i. , n. , , n. , , n. ; savage's, i. , n. ; character, said by baretti to be ignorant of, v. , n. ; characters, saw a great variety, iii. ; drew strong yet nice portraits, ib.; too much in light and shade, ii. ; overcharged, iii. ; charity to the poor, iv. , : see johnson, almsgiving; _charles of sweden_, i. , n. ; chastity in his youth, i. ; savage's example, i. ; iv. - ; chemistry, love of, i. , ; iii. ; iv. ; chief, would have made a good, v. , ; child, never wished to have a, iii. ; childhood, companions of his, iii. ; children, books for, iv. , n. ; children, love of little, iv. ; christianity, projected work on, v. ; church, attendances due at, i. , n. ; iii. ; behaviour in it, ii. ; lateness in arriving at it, ii. ; iii. , n. , , n, ; perturbation, without, at it, ii. ; some radiations of comfort at it, iii. , n. , , n. l; reluctance to go to it, i. ; ii. , n. , , n. ; resolutions at it, i. ; church of england, devotion to the, iii. ; iv. ; v. ; church preferment, offer of, i. , ; ii. ; civilized life in the hebrides, longs for, v. ; clergymen should not be taught elocution, iv. ; clerkenwell ale-house, i. , n. ; climb over a wall at oxford, proposes to, i. ; club, literary, attendance, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; dislike of some of the members, iii. ; one of the founders, i. ; coach, on the top of a, i. ; cold, indifferent to, v. , ; colloquial barbarisms, repressed, iii. ; comfort, wants every, iv. ; common things, well-informed in, iv. ; 'companion, a tremendous,' iii. ; companions of his youth, regrets the, iii. , n. ; company, loves, i. ; obliged to any man who visits him, i. ; proud to have his company desired, ii. , n. ; tries to persuade people to return, i. ; complaints, not given to, ii. , ; iii. ; iv. , , n. ; complaisance, i. ; compliment, pleased with a, iv. ; v. ; composition, dictionary-making and poetry compared, v. , ; fair copies, never wrote, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , ; _johnsonese_, v. , n. ; reviewing, iv. ; time for it, ii. ; verses, counting his, iv. ; wrote by fits and starts, iv. ; only for money, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; not for pleasure, iv. ; rapidity, described by courtenay, iv. , n. ; shown in his college exercises, i. ; _debates_, i. ; _hermit of teneriffe_, i. , n. ; _idler_, i. ; _life of savage_, forty-eight pages at a sitting, i. ; v. ; _ramblers_, i. ; _rasselas_, i. ; sermons, v. ; translation from the french, iv. ; v. ; _vanity of human wishes_, i. ; ii. ; confidence in his own abilities, i. ; conjecture, kept things floating in, iii. ; conscience, tenderness of his, i. ; consecrated ground, reverence for, v. , ; constant to those he employed, iv. ; constantinople, wish to go to, iv. ; constitution, strength of his, iv. , n. ; _construction of fireworks_, v. , n. ; contraction of his friends' names, ii. ; v. ; contradiction, actuated by its spirit, iii. ; v. ; exasperated by it, ii. ; pleasure in it, in. ; conversation, antique statue, like an, iii. ; bacon's precept, in conformity with, iv. ; colloquial pleasantry, iv. ; contest, a, ii. ; iv. ; described by hogarth, i. , n. ; dr. king, ii. , n. ; e. dilly, iii. ; reynolds, iv. ; malone, ib. n. ; miss burney and mrs. thrale, iv. , n. ; macaulay, ib.; mrs. piozzi, iv. ; boswell, ib.; elegant as his writing, ii. , n. ; iv. , ; essential requisite for it, in want of an, iv. ; exact precision, ii. ; happiest kind, his view of the, iv. ; imaginary victories gained over him, iv. , n. ; labours when he says a good thing, v. ; 'literature in it, very little,' v. ; 'music to hear him speak,' v. ; old man in it, nothing of the, iii. ; originality, iv. , n. ; point and imagery, teemed with, iii. ; rule to talk his best, i. ; 'runts, would learn to talk of,' iii. ; seldom started a subject, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; stunned people, v. ; too strong for the great, iv. ; witnesses, without, iii. , n. ; conviviality in the hebrides, v. ; convulsions in his breast, iii. , n. ; convulsive starts: see peculiarities; cookery, judge of, i. ; iii. ; projected book on it, iii. ; copper coins bearing his head, iv. , n. ; cottage in boswell's park, would like a, iv. ; country life, knowledge of, iii. ; mental imprisonment, iv. ; pleasure in it, v. , n. ; courage, anecdotes of his, ii. - ; court of justice, in a, ii. , , n. , ; _cowley_, projected edition of, iii. ; credulity, iii. ; iv. ; v. ; critic upon characters and manners, iii. ; croaker, no, iv. , n. ; cromwell, projected _life_ of, iv. ; curiosity, his, i. ; iii. , - ; about the middle ages, iv. ; dance, at a highland, v. ; dancing, iv. , , n. ; dating letters, i. , n. ; day, mode of spending his, i. ; ii. ; death, dread of, ii. ; iii. , ; iv. , n. , , , , , - , , - . - ; v. ; no dread of what might occasion, ii. ; dying with a grace,' iv. , n. ; horror of the last, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; keeping away the thoughts of, ii. ; iii. ; news of deaths fills him with melancholy, iv. ; resigned at the end, iv. , n. , - ; death, his, dec. , , iv. - ; agitated the public mind, i. , n. ; produced a chasm, iv. ; a kind of era, iv. , n. ; described by boswell, iv. - ; david boswell, iv. ; dr. burney, iv. , n. ; miss burney, iv. , n. , - ; hoole, iv. , n. , , , n. ; langton, iv. , , n. ; nichols, iv. - ; reynolds, iv. , n. ; windham's servant, iv. ; spirit of the grammarian, iv. ; characteristical manner shows itself, iv. ; lines on a spendthrift, iv. ; three requests of reynolds, ib.; refuses opiates and sustenance, iv. ; operates on himself, iv. , . n. , , n. ; debate, chose the wrong side in a, i. ; debts in , i. , n. , , n. ; in and , i. , n. ; under arrest, i. , n. ; dedications, skill in, ii. ; - ; never used them himself, i. , n. ; ii. i, n. ; to him, iv. , n. ; defending a man, mode of, ii. ; deference, required, iii. , n. ; delicacy about his letter to chesterfield, i. , n. ; about beauclerk, iv. ; towards a dependent, ii. ; depression of mind, i. , , n. ; deserted, very much, iv. ; '_déterré_,' i. ; dexterity in retort, iv. ; diaries, _annales_, i. , , n. ; _diary_, burnt, i. , , n. , ; iv. ; fragments preserved, i. , . n. , ; iv. , n. ; v. , , n. ; boswell, seen by, i. , n. ; iv. ; left in his house, v. ; 'dictionary johnson,' i. ; _dictionary_, cites himself in his, iv. , n. : see also under _dictionary_; _dies irae_, reciting the, iii. , n. ; diffidence, i. ; dignity, 'a blunt dignity about him,' i. , n. ; of character, i. , , n. ; ii. ; v. ; of literature, iii. ; dinners, 'dinner to ask a man to,' i. ; house, at his own, ii. , , , , n. ; iii. ; iv. , ; to members of the ivy lane club, iv. ; 'huffed his wife' about, i. , n. ; on the way to oxford, iv. ; one in devonshire, i. , n. ; at the pine apple, i. ; talked about them more than he thought, i. , n. ; thought on them with earnestness, i. , n. ; v. , n. : see under dinners, and johnson, eating; discrimination, fond of, ii. ; iii. ; disorderly habits, i. , n. ; iv. ; dissenters and snails, ii. , n, ; distilling, iv. ; distressed by poverty, i. , , , , n. , , , , , n. , , , ; doctor of laws of dublin, i. ; oxford, ii. , n. , - ; did not use the title, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , ; v. , n. ; dogs, separated two: see johnson, fear; _domine_, title of, i. , n. ; 'an auld dominie,' v. , n. ; dramatic power, i. : see johnson, tragedy-writer; draughts, played at, i. ; ii. ; dress, described by beauclerk, ii. ; boswell, i. ; v. ; colman, iii. , n. ; cumberland, iii. , n. ; foote, ii. ; langton, i. ; miss reynolds, i. , n. , , n. ; improved, iii. ; on his tour in scotland, v. ; boswell suggests for him velvet and embroidery, ii. ; court mourning, at a, iv. ; dramatic author, as a, i. ; v. ; when visiting goldsmith, i. , n. ; in paris, ii. , n. ; dropsy, sudden relief from, iv. - ; operated on himself for it: see above, under death; easter meetings with boswell, iv. , n. ; easter-day, his placidity on it, iii. ; resolutions on it, i. , ; ii. , n. ; iii. ; east-indian affairs, had never considered, ii. ; eating, dislikes being asked twice to eat anything, v. ; love of good eating, i. ; iii. ; at monboddo's table, v. ; mode, i. , , , n. ; v. ; unaffected by kinds of food, iii. ; voracious, iv. , ; v. ; enemies, wonders why he has, iv. ; envy, candid avowal of, iii , n. ; possible envy of burke, iii. , n. ; epitaphs, his, iv. , ib., n. , - ; on his wife, i. , n. ; iv. - ; on his parents and brothers, iv. ; essex head club, founds the, iv. - , , - ; etymologist, a bad, i. , n. ; evidence, a sifter of, i. ; v. ; evil spirit, the, affects johnson politically, v. , n. ; exaggeration, hatred of: see exaggeration; excellence described by mrs. piozzi, ii. , n. ; executor, porter's, i. , n. ; thrale's, iv. ; exhibited, refused to be, ii. ; expedition, eager for an, iii. , ; experiments, minute, iii. , n. ; eyes: see sight; fable, sketch of a, ii. ; 'faith in some proportion to fear,' iv. , n. ; fancy, fecundity of, iii. ; fasting, ii. , n. , , , ; iii. , ; iv. , ; fasted two days, i. ; iii. ; v. ; fear, a stranger to, ii. , n. ; separated two dogs, ii. ; v. ; never afraid of any man, iv. , n. ; afraid to walk on the roof of the observatory, ii. ; feared at college, iii. ; at brighton, iv. , n. ; by langton, iv. : see above, johnson, awe; fearing in _pilgrim's progress_, like, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; female charms, sensible to, i. ; female dress, critical of, i. ; feudal notions, iii. ; fictions, projected work on, iv. ; fields, wishes to see the, iii. , n. , - ; flattery, somewhat susceptible of, iv. ; v. , , n. ; _foenum habet in cornu_, ii. ; foote describes him in paris, ii. ; foreigners, prejudice against, i. ; iv. ; described by baretti and reynolds, ib. n. , , n. ; boswell, v. : forgiving disposition, ii. ; iv. , n. ; shown to one who exceeded in wine, ii. ; iv. ; v. , n. ; fortitude, iv. , ; fox-hunting, i. , n. ; v. ; france, tour to, ii. - ; diary, ii. - ; would not publish it, iii. ; french, knowledge of, i. ; ii. - , , n. , , ; writes a french letter, ii. ; fretful, iv. , , ; friends, list of, in , i. ; friend, a most active, iv. ; _frisk_, his, i. ; frolic, his bitterness mistaken for, i. ; iv. ; fruit, love of, iv. ; v. , n. ; funeral, iv. , ; garagantua, iii. ; garret in gough square, i. ; garrick's success, moved by, i. , , n. ; ii. ; gay and good-humoured, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; 'infinitely agreeable,' iv. , n. ; bland and gay, v. ; gay circles of life, pleased at mixing in the, ii. , ; _gelaleddin_, describes himself in, iv. , n. ; general censure, dislikes, iv. ; _genius_, always in extremes, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; _gentleman's magazine_: see _gentleman's magazine_; gentleness, iv. , n. , , n. ; want of it, v. ; gentlewoman in liquor, helps a, ii. ; gesticulating, averse to, iv. ; gestures, see johnson, peculiarities; ghost, like a, i. , n. ; iii. ; v. ; ghosts: see ghosts; 'giant in his den,' i. ; gloomy cast of thought, i. ; god, love predominated over by fear of, iii. ; 'saw god in clouds,' iii. ; goldsmith, contests with, ii. ; envy, i. , n. ; _haunch of venison_, mentioned in, iii. , n. ; proposal to review a work by, v. : see goldsmith; good friday, would not look at a proof on, iii. : see johnson, fasting; good-humour, iv. , n. ; v. , ; 'good-humoured fellow,' ii. ; iii. ; goodnatured, but not good-humoured, ii. ; good in others seen by him, i. , n. ; good things of this life, loved the, iii. , n. ; good sayings, forgets his, iv. ; gordon riots, iii. - ; gout due to abstinence, i. , n. : see johnson, health; gown, master of arts, i. ; graces, valued the, iii. ; grandfather, could hardly tell who was his, ii. ; gratitude, i. ; grave, request about it, iv. , n. ; in westminster abbey, iv. ; close to macpherson's, ii. , n. ; great, never courted the, iii. ; iv. ; not courted by them, iv. , ; 'greatest man in england next to lord mansfield,' ii. ; v. ; greek, knowledge of, i. , ; iii. ; iv. , n. , - ; v. , n. ; _greek testament_, his large folio, ii. ; green room, in the, i. ; iv. ; grief, bearing, iii. , n. , , n. ; grosvenor square, apartment in, iv. , n. ; gun, rashness in firing a, ii. ; habitations, list of his, i. ; iii. - ; hampton court, applies for a residence in, iii. , n. ; happier in his later years, i. ; iv. , n. ; happiness not found in this world, iv. , n. : see happiness; hasty, iii. - ; health, consults scotch physicians, iv. - ; seldom a single day of ease, iv. ; , hypochondria, i. ; , sickness, i. ; - , severe attack of hypochondria, i. , , - ; which left a weakness in his knee, v. , ; , hypochondria, relieved by abstinence, ii. , n. ; , hypochondria, ii. ; severe illness at oxford, ii. , n. ; , rheumatism and spasms, ii. , n. ; , better, ii. , n. ; , fever, ii. ; mention of a dreadful illness, ii. ; better in scotland, v. , n. , , n. ; , illness, ii. ; , gout, iii. , ; , hypochondria, iii. ; illness, iii. ; , better, iii. ; , better, iii. , ; iv. , n. ; , better, iv. , n. ; , illness, iv. , , , ; , illness, iv. ; palsy, iv. , , n. ; threatened with an operation, iv. ; gout, ; - , asthma and dropsy, iv. , , n. , ; sudden relief, , - ; confined days, iv. , n. ; projected wintering in italy, iv. ; his letters about his last illness, iv. - ; _aegri ephemeris_, iv. : see johnson, melancholy; _heard_, pronunciation of, iii. ; hearth-broom, his, iv. ; hebrides, first talk of visiting the, i. ; ii. ; v. ; proposed tour, ii. , , , ; v. - ; leaves london, ii. ; v. ; returns, ii. ; account of the tour, ii. - ; v. - ; described in a letter to taylor, v. , n. ; acquisition of ideas, iv. ; and of images, v. ; hardships and dangers, v. , , n. , , n. , ; uncommon spirit shown, v. ; pleasantest journey he ever made, iii. ; v. ; pleasure in talking it over, iii. , ; a 'frolic,' iv. ; no wish to go again, iv. ; received like princes, v. ; 'roving among the hebrides at sixty,' v. ; box of curiosities from them, ii. - : see _journey to the hebrides_, and scotland; hercules, compared by boswell to, ii. ; hervey, story of his ingratitude to, iii. , - ; _high_, his use of, iii. , n. ; highlander, shows the spirit of a, v. ; hilarity, i. , , n. , , n. ; ii. - , ; history, little regard for: see history; holds up his head as high as he can, iv. ; home uncomfortable by jarrings, iii. : see johnson, household; honest man, v. , ; house at lichfield: see lichfield; for his habitations, see johnson, habitations; household, account of it, i. , n. ; iii. - ; iv. , n. ; 'much malignity' in it, iii. , ; losses by death, iv. ; melancholy, iv. ; more peace, iv. , n. ; solitude, i. , n. ; iv. , n. , , , , , n. , , ; housekeeping, left off, i. , , n. ; resumed it, ii. ; hug, gives one a forcible, ii. ; humility, iii. , n. ; iv. , ; humour, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; v. , ; hungry only once in his life, i. ; hypochondria: see johnson, health; hypocrisy, not suspicious of, i. , n. ; iii. ; iceland, projected voyage to, i. ; iv. , n. ; idleness in boyhood, i. ; at college, i. ; 'desidiae valedixi,' i. ; in writing the _plan_, i. ; '_idle apprentice_ i. ; in inner temple lane, i. , n. ; 'idle fellow all my life,' i. ; idleness in , i. ; in , i. ; in , i. ; in , i. ; in , ii. ; in his latter years, i. , n. ; claim upon him for more writings, i. ; ii. , , ; idleness exaggerated by himself, i. ; ii. , : see johnson, indolence; ignorance, covered his, v. , n. ; illness: see johnson, health; imitations of him often caricatures, ii. , n. ; 'imlac,' iii. ; _impransus_, i. ; incredulity as to particular extraordinary facts, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; '_incredulus odi_,' iii. ; independence, always asserted his, i. ; indolence, his, described by hawkins, iii. , n. ; by murphy, i. , n. ; 'inclination to do nothing,' i. ; justification of it, ii. , n. ; time of danger, i. , n. ; influence, loves, v. ; inheritance from his father, i. ; intoxicated, i. , , n. , , n. ; used to slink home, iii. ; '_invictum animum catonis_,' iv. ; _irene_: see _irene_; _island isa_, v. ; islington, for change of air, goes to, iv. ; italian, knowledge of, i. , ; mentions _ariosto_, i. ; v. , n. ; _dante_, ii. ; purposes vigorous study, iii. ; iv. ; reads casa and castiglione, v. ; _il palmerino d'inghilterra_, iii. ; petrarch, iv. , n. ; tasso, iii. ; italy, projected book on, iii. ; projected tour to, ii. , , ; tour given up, iii. , , ; eagerness to go, iii. , , , - ; v. ; projected wintering there, iv. - , , , - ; jacobite tendencies, i. , ; ii. , ; iii. ; iv. ; never ardent in the cause, i. , n. , ; never in a nonjuring meeting-house, iv. ; james's _medicinal dictionary_, i. ; _jean bull philosophe_, i. ; john bull, a, v. ; 'johnson's grimly ghost,' iv. , n. ; johnson's court, house in, ii. ; furniture, ib. n. , ; _johnston_, often called in scotland, iii. , n. ; v. ; journal, attempt to keep a, i. , n. ; ii. ; _journey to the western islands_, see _journey to the western islands_; killing sometimes no murder in a state of nature, v. - ; kindness, boswell, to, i. ; burney's testimony, i. , n. ; iii. , n, ; goldsmith's testimony, i. ; features, shown in his, ii. , n. ; poor schoolfellow, to his, ii. ; servants, to, iv. ; small matters, in, iv. , ; unthankful, to the, i. ; iii. , ; king's evil, touched for the, i. ; kings, ridicules, i. ; kitchen, his, ii. , n. ; iii. ; knee, takes a young methodist on his, ii. ; a highland beauty, v. ; knotting, tried, iii. ; iv. ; knowledge, at the age of eighteen, i. ; exact, iii. ; varied, iii. ; iv. ; v. , , ; 'laboured,' iii. , n. ; v. ; ladies, could be very agreeable to, iv. ; langton's devotion to him in his illness, iv. , n. ; will, ridicules, ii. ; language, delicate in it, iii. ; iv. ; suits his to a 'blackguard boy,' iv. ; zeal for it, ii. ; large, love of the, v. , n. ; late hours, love of, ii. ; iii. , n. , ; latin, knowledge of, i. , , ; testified to by de quincey, i. , n. ; by dr. parr, iv. , n. ; colloquial, ii. , , ; misquotes horace, iv. , n. ; modern latin poetry, loves, i. , n. ; verse, translates greek epigrams into latin, iv. ; laugh, his, described, ii. , n. ; hearty, ii. ; like a rhinoceros, ib.; over small matters, ii. ; v. ; resounds from temple bar to fleet ditch, ii. ; 'laughter, shakes, out of you,' ii. ; law, knowledge of, iii. ; lawyer, seeks to become a, i. ; would have excelled, ib.; had not money, v. ; laxity of talk, i. ; ii. iv. , n. ; v. ; laziness, trying to cure his, v. ; lectured by mrs. thrale, iv. , n. ; lemonade, his, v. , ; letterwriting an effort, i. ; letters may be published after his death, ii. ; iii. ; puts as little as possible into them, iv. ; _returns not answers_, ii. , n. , ; iii. ; studied endings, v. , n. ; publication by mrs. piozzi: see under mrs. thrale, johnson, letters;--to allen, edmund, iv. ; argyle, duke of, v. ; astle, thomas, iv. ; bagshaw, rev. t., ii. ; iv. ; banks, joseph, ii. ; barber, francis, ii. , , ; iv. , n. ; baretti, i. , , ; barry, james, iv. ; b--d, mr., ii. ; beattie, dr., iii. ; birch, dr., i. , ; boothby, miss, i. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; boswell, james, i. ; ii. , , , , , , , , , - , , - , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , - ; iii. , , , , , , , , , , , - , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; iv. , , , n. , , , , - , , , , , , , , - , , , - , : for boswell's letters to johnson, see boswell; boswell, mrs., iii. , ; iv. ; boufflers, mme, de, ii. ; brocklesby, dr., iv. , - ; burney, dr., i. , , , ; iv. , - , ; bute, earl of, i. , ; cave, edward, i. , , - , - , i - ; chamberlain, the lord, iii. , n. ; chambers, r., i. ; chapone, mrs., iv. ; chesterfield, earl of, i. ; fictitious one, a, i. , n. ; clark, alderman, iv. ; clergyman at bath, iv. ; clergyman, young, iii. ; cruikshank,----, iv. ; davies, thomas, iv. , ; dilly, charles, iii. ; iv. ; dilly, edward, iii. (really written to w. sharp, ib., n. ); dodd, dr., iii. , ; drummond, william, ii. - ; edwards, dr., iii. ; elibank, lord, v. ; elphinstone, james, i. - , , n. ; iii. , n. ; farmer, dr., to, ii. ; iii. ; _general advertiser_, i. ; _gentl. mag_. about savage, i. ; goldsmith, ii. , n. ; green, the lichfield apothecary, iv. ; grenville, george, i. , n. ; about gwynn the architect, v. , n. ; hamilton, w. g., iv. , ; hawkins, sir john, iv. ; hastings, warren, iv. , - ; hector, edmund, i. , n. ; , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , - , ; heely, ----, iv. ; hickman, ----, i. , n. ; hoole, john, ii. ; iv. - ; humphry, ozias, iv. - ; hussey, rev. john, iii. ; jenkinson, charles (first earl of liverpool), iii. ; johnson, mrs., his mother, i. , , ; kearsley, ----, i. , n. ; lady, a, asking for a recommendation, i. ; langton, bennet, i. , , , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , ; iii. , ; iv. , , , - , , ; langton, miss jane, iv. ; lawrence, dr., ii. ; iii. ; iv. ; latin letter, iv. ; lawrence, miss, iv. , n. ; leland, dr., i. , ; ii. , n. ; levett, ----, of lichfield, i. ; levett, robert, ii. , ; iii. ; macleod, laird of, v. , n. ; macpherson, james, ii. ; malone, e., iv. ; montague, mrs., i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; mudge, dr., iv. ; nichols, john, iv. , n. , , , , , n. , ; nicol, george, iv. ; o'connor, charles, i. ; iii. ; paradise, john, iv. ; parr, dr., iv. , n. ; perkins, ----, ii. ; iv. , , , ; porter, miss, i. , n. , , n. , - ; ii. - ; iii. ; iv. , - , , n. , , , , , ; portmore, lord, iv. , n. ; rasay, laird of, v. ; reynolds, sir joshua, i. ; ii. , ; iii. , , ; iv. , , , , , , , - ; - ; richardson, samuel, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; ryland, ----, iv. , n. , , n. , , n. ; sastres, iv. , n. , , n. ; sharp, v., iii. , n. ; simpson, joseph, i. ; smart, mrs., iii. ; iv. , n. ; staunton, dr., i. ; steevens, george, ii. ; iii. ; strahan, w., iii. ; strahan, mrs., iv. , ; taylor, dr., i. , n. , , n. , , n. . . n. , , , n. ; ii. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; iv. . n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , , n. , , n. , , , n. , ; v. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; thrale, mrs., iii. , n. , , ; iv. , , ; see thrale, mrs.; thrale, miss, iv. ; thurlow, lord chancellor, iv. ; v. , n. ; vice-chancellors of oxford, i. ; ii. ; vyse, rev. dr., iii. ; warton, dr. joseph, i. , , n. , , n. ; ii. ; warton, rev. thomas, i. , - , - , - , , , ; ii. , ; welch, saunders, iii. ; wesley, john, iii. ; v. , n. ; westcote, lord, iv. , n. ; wetherell, rev. dr., ii. ; wheeler, dr., iii. ; white, rev. mr., ii. ; wilkes, john, iv. , n. ; wilson, rev. mr., iv. ; windham, right hon. william, iv. , ; letters to johnson from argyle, duke of, v. ; bellamy, mrs., iv. , n. ; birch, dr., i. ; boswell, mrs., iv. ; croft, rev., h., iv. , n. ; dodd, dr., iii. ; elibank, lord, v. ; thrale, mrs., iii. ; thurlow, lord, iii. ; levee, i. , , n. ; ii. , n. , ; in edinburgh, v. ; liberality, i. ; iii. ; liberty, love of, i. , , , n. , ; ii. , n. , , , ; contempt of popular liberty, ii. , ; of liberty of election, ii. , ; library, described by hawkins, i. , n. ; by boswell, i. ; johnson puts his books in order, iii. , ; sale by auction, iv. , n. ; lichfield play-house, in the, ii. ; _lie_, use of the word, iv. ; life, balance of misery in it, iv. - ; dark views of it, iv. , n. , ; more to be endured than enjoyed, ii. ; struggles hard for it, iv. ; would give one of his legs for a year of it, iv. ; operates on himself, iv. , n. ; light and airy, growing, iii. , n. ; literary career in - , almost suspended, i. ; literary club: see clubs and johnson, club; literary reputation, estimated by goldsmith, ii. ; _lives of the poets_, proof of his vigour, iii. , n. ; effect on his mind, iv. n. : see _lives of the poets_; london life, knowledge of, iii. ; 'permanent london object,' v. : see london; lords, did not quote the authority of, iv. : see johnson, great; lost five guineas by hiding them, iv. ; love, in love with olivia lloyd, i. ; hector's sister, ii. ; mrs. emmet, ii. ; _love_, garrick sends him his, v. ; low life, cannot bear, v. ; _lusiad_, projected translation of the, iv. ; machinery, knowledge of, ii. , n. ; madness, dreaded, i. ; melancholy, confounded it with, iii. ; 'mad, at least not sober,' i. , ; v. ; often near it, i. , n. ; iii. ; majestic, v. ; mankind, describes the general hostility of, iii. , n. ; mankind less just and more beneficent, iii. ; less expected of them, iv. ; manners, disgusted with coarse, v. ; total inattention to established manners, v. ; his roughness, ii. . , ; in contradicting, iv. ; only external, ii. ; iii. - ; partly due to his truthfulness, iv. , n. ; rough as winter and mild as summer, iv. , n. ; had been an advantage, iv. ; mickle never had a rough word, iv. ; malone never heard a severe thing from him, iv. ; miss burney's account, iv. , n. ; macleods of dunvegan castle delighted with him, v. , n. ; softened, iv. , n. , , n. ; marriage, i. ; master of arts degree, i. , , , n. , - ; medicine, knowledge of: see johnson, physic; melancholy, confounds it with madness, iii. ; constitutional, v. ; exaggerated by boswell, ii. , n. ; inherited 'a vile melancholy,' i. ; 'morbid melancholy,' i. , ; proposes to write the history of it, ii. , n. ; remedies against it, i. : see johnson, health; memory, extraordinary, early instances, i. , ; shown in remembering, ariosto, v. , n. ; bet flint's verses, iv. , n. ; greek hymns, iii. , n. ; hay's _martial_, v. ; letter to chesterfield, i. , n. ; rowe's plays, iv. , n. ; verses on the duke of leed's marriage, iv. ; complains of its failure, iii. , n. ; men as they are, took, iii. ; men and women, his subjects of inquiry, v. , n. ; mental faculties, tests his, iv. ; metaphysics, fond of, i. ; withheld from their study, v. , n. ; method, want of, iii. ; 'methodist in a dignified manner,' i. , n. ; military matters, interest in, iii. ; militia, drawn for the, iv. ; mill, compared to a, v. ; mimicry, hatred of gesticular, ii. , n. ; mind, his means of quieting it, i. ; ready for use, i. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , ; strained by work, i. , n. ; , n. ; moderation in his character, absence of, iv. ; in wine, difficult, ii. : see johnson, abstinence; modesty, iii. ; monument in st. paul's, i. , n. ; iv. ; subscription for it, ib., n. and ; epitaph, iv. , - ; mother, his death, i. , n. , , - ; ii. ; debt, takes upon himself her, i. ; dreads to lose her, i. , n. ; letters, burns her, iv. , n. ; wishes to see her, i. ; music, account of his feelings towards it, ii. , n. ; affected by it, iii. ; iv. ; bagpipe, listens to the, v. ; flageolet, bought a, iii. ; had he learnt it would have done nothing else, iii. ; v. ; insensible to its power, iii. ; talks slightingly of it, ii. ; wishes to learn the scale, ii. , n. ; would be glad to have a new sense given him, ii. ; musing, habit of, v. , n. ; name, his, fraudulently used, v. ; nature, affected by, iii. ; description of a highland valley, v. , n. ; of various country scenes, v. , n. ; neglect, dread of, iv. , n. ; would not brook it, ii. ; neglected at brighton in , iv. , n. ; negligence in correcting errors, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; newspapers, accustomed to think little of them, iv. ; constantly mentioned in them, iv. l ; 'maintained' them, ii. ; reads the _london chronicle_, ii. ; nice observer of behaviour, iii. ; night-cap, did not wear a, v. , ; nights, restless, ii. , , n. , , n. ; iii. , , n. , , n. , , , ; when sleepless translated greek into latin verse, iv. ; _nil admirari_, much of the, v. ; notions, his, enlarged, v. ; _novum museum_, ii. , n. ; 'o brave we!' v. ; oak-sticks for foote and macpherson, ii. , , n. ; for his scotch tour, v. , ; lost, v. ; oath, his pardon asked by murphy for repeating an, iii. ; obligation, drawn into a state of, iii. , n. ; impatient of them, i. , n. ; obstinacy in supporting opinions, i. , n. ; 'oddity,' iii. ; offend, attentive not to, iii. , n. ; 'oil of vitriol,' his, v. , n. ; old, never liked to think of being, iii. , ; old man in his talk, nothing of the, iii. ; oracle, a kind of public, ii. ; orange-peel, use of, ii. ; oratorio, at an, ii. , . ; original writer, ii. ; oxford undergraduate, an, i. ; pain, courage in bearing, iv. ; easily supports it, i. , n. , ; never totally free from it, i. , n. ; operates on himself, iv. ; painting, account of his feelings towards it, i. , n. ; allegorical, historical, and portrait painting, compares, i. , ; v. , n. ; barry's pictures, praises, iv. ; exhibition, despises the, i. ; laughs at talk about it, ii. , n. ; prints, a buyer of, i. , n. ; iv. , n. , ; sale of his, i. , n. ; thrale's copper, asks reynolds to paint, i. , n. ; _treatise on painting_, reads a, i. , n. ; palsy, struck with, iv. , n. , - ; pamphlets written against him, iv. ; papers, burns his, i. ; iii. , n. iv. , , n. ; papers, not to be burnt, ii. ; papist, if he could would be a, iv. ; pardon, once begs, iv. , n. ; parliament, attacked and defended in it, iv. , n. ; eulogised in it by burke, iv. , n. ; attempts made to bring him into it, ii. - ; projects an historical account of it, i. ; parodies on percy, ii. , n. , , n. ; warton, iii. , n. ; party-opposition, averse to, ii. , n. ; passions, his, iv. , n. ; passion-week, johnson has an awe on him, ii- ; dines out every day, iii. , n. ; dines with two bishops, iv. ; paper on it in _the rambler_, i. ; iv. ; pastoral life, desires to study, iii. ; pathos, want of, iv. ; patience, iii. ; v. - ; payment for his writings: see johnson, works; peats, brings in a supply of, v. ; peculiarities absence of mind, ii. , n. ; iv. ; avoiding an alley, i. ; beating with his feet, v. , n. ; blowing out his breath, i. ; iii. ; convulsive starts, i. ; mentioned by pope, i. ; described, ib., i. , n. ; astonish hogarth, i. ; alluded to by churchill, i. , n. ; astonish a young girl, iv. , n. ; lose him an assistant-mastership, iv. , n. ; described by boswell, v. ; by reynolds, ib., n. ; entering a room, i. ; gesticulation, mimicked by garrick, ii. ; half-whistling, iii. ; inarticulate sounds, i. ; iii. ; march, iv. , ; pronunciation: see under johnson, pronunciation; puffing hard with passion, iii. ; riding, iv. ; rolling, iii. , ; iv. ; v. ; shaking his head and body, i. ; striding across a floor, i. ; talking to himself, i. ; iv. , , n. ; v. - ; touching posts, i. , n. ; boswell tells him of some of them, iv. , n. ; he reads boswell's account, v. , n. ; pembroke college: see under oxford, pembroke college; penance in uttoxeter market, iv. ; penitents, a great lover of, iv. , n. ; pension: see pension; personal appearance, described by boswell, iv. ; v. ; by miss burney, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; by mrs. piozzi and reynolds, i. , n. ; in _the race_ ii. ; 'a labouring working mind, an indolent reposing body,' iv. ; fingers and nails, iv. ; 'ghastly smiles,' ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; 'majestic frame,' i. ; robust frame, i. ; youth, in his, i. ; philology, love of, iv. ; philosophy, study of, i. ; physicians, pleasure in the company of, iv. ; physick, knowledge of, i. ; iii. ; 'great dabbler in it,' iii. ; physics himself violently, iv. , n. ; , n. ; writes a prescription, v. ; picture of himself in [greek: gnothi seauton] i. , n. ; piety, maintained the obligations of, v. ; plagiarism, i. ; players, prejudice against: see players; please, seeking to, iii. , n. ; poems of his youth, i. ; poetical mind, iii. ; iv. ; v. ; poetry, pleasure in writing, iv. ; v. ; politian, proposal to publish the poems of, i. ; politeness, his, acknowledged, i. ; ii. ; iii. , ; iv. ; v. , , - , ; thinks himself very polite, iii. ; v. ; political economy, ignorance of, ii. , n. ; political principles, his, described by dr. maxwell, ii. - ; politician, intention of becoming a, i. ; - ; 'pomposo,' i. ; poor, loved the, ii. , n. ; pope's _messiah_ turned into latin, i. ; porter's knot, advised to buy a, i. , n. ; portraits, list of his, iv. , n. ; burney, miss, finds him examining one, ii. , n. ; reynolds, portraits by,--one with beauclerk's inscription, iv. , ; 'blinking sam,' iii. , n. ; doughty's mezzotinto, ii. , n. ; one engraved for boswell's _life_, presented by reynolds to boswell, i. ; v. , n. ; one admired at lichfield, ii. ; one at streatham, iv. , n. ; other portraits, iv. , n. ; reynolds, miss, by, ii. , n. ; iv. . n. ; post-chaise, delight in a: see post-chaise; praise and abuse, wishes he had kept a book of, v. ; praise, loved, but did not seek it, iv. ; v. ; disliked extravagant praise, iii. ; iv. ; prayers: see prayers, and _prayers and meditations_; prefaces, skill in, i. ; preference to himself, refused, iii. , n. ; presbyterian service, would not attend a, iii. ; v. , ; attends family prayer, v. ; pride, described by reynolds, iii. , n. ; defensive, i. ; no meanness in it, iv. , n. ; princes, attacks, i. l , n. ; principles and practice: see principles and practice; prize-fighting, regrets extinction of, v. ; profession, regrets that he had not a, iii. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; promptitude of mind: see johnson, mind; pronunciation--excellent, v. ; provincial accent, ii. , ; property, iv. , , n. ; public affairs, refuses to talk of, iv. ; public singer, on preparing himself for a, ii. ; public speaking, ii. ; punctuality, not used to, i. ; punic war, would not hear of the, iii. , n. ; punish, quick to, ii. ; puns, despises, ii. ; iv. ; puns himself, iii. ; iv. , ; questioning, disliked, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; iv. (see, however, iii. , n. ); quiet hours, seen in his, iii. , n. ; quoting his writings against him, iv. ; races with baretti, ii. ; ranelagh, feelings on entering, iii. ; rank, respect for: see birth; rationality, obstinate, iv. ; read to, impatient to be, iv. ; reading, amount of his, i. ; ii. ; before college, i. , ; at college, i. ; ii. ; read rapidly, i. ; iv. , n. ; ravenously, iii. ; like a turk, iv. ; did not read books through, i. ; ii. ; reads more than he did, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; slight books, v. ; when travelling, _pomponius mela de situ orbis_, i. ; _il palmerino d'inghilterra_, iii. ; _euripides_, iv. ; tully's _epistles_, v. ; _martial_, v. ; recitation, described by boswell, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; murphy, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; mrs. piozzi, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; reynolds, v. ; a great reciter, v. ; 'recommending' the dead: see under dead; reconciliation, ready to seek a, ii. , n. ; , ; ib., n. ; iii. ; rectory, offer of a, i. , ; ii. ; refinement, high estimation of, iii. ; relations on the father's side, i. , n. ; iv. ; religion, 'conversion,' his, iv. , n. ; early indifference to it, i. ; totally regardless of it, iv. ; early training, i. , ; 'ignorant of it,' ii. ; a lax talker against it, i. ; predominant object of his thoughts, i. ; ii. ; brought back by sickness, iv. ; 'never denied christ,' iv. , n. ; remorse, i. ; , n. ; repetitions in his writings, i. , n. ; reproved by a lady, v. ; reputation, did not trouble himself to defend his, ii. ; residences: see habitations; resistance to bad government lawful, ii. , ; respect due to him, maintained the, iii. ; shows respect to a doctor in divinity, ii. l ; 'respectable hottentot' not johnson, i. , n. ; respected by others: by boswell and mrs. thrale loved, ii. ; resolutions, 'fifty-five years spent in resolving,' i. ; rarely efficacious, ii. ; neglected, iv. ; reveries, i. , n. , ; reynolds's pictures, 'never looked at,' ii. , n. ; riding, v. , , : see johnson, foxhunting; ringleader of a riot, said to have been the, iv. ; rising late, i. , n. ; ii. , , , ; v. ; 'roarings of the old lion,' ii. , n. ; roaring people down, iii. , ; roasts apples, iv. , n. ; robbed, never, ii. ; romances, love of, i. ; iii. ; roughness: see johnson, manners; round-robin, receives the, iii. - ; royal academy, professor of the, ii. ; iv. , n. ; rumour that he was dying, iii. ; rural beauties, little taste for, i. ; v. ; sacrament, not received with tranquillity, ii. , n. ; instances of his receiving it at other times but easter, ii. , n. ; iv. , ; same one day as another, not the, iii. ; sarcastic in the defence of good principles, ii. ; _sassenach more_, ii. , n. ; satire, explosions of, iii. ; ignorant of the effect produced, iv. , n. ; savage, effects of intimacy with, i. - ; v. ; saying, tendency to paltry, iv. ; sayings not accurately reported, ii. ; scenery, descriptions of moonlight sail, v. , n. ; of a ride in a storm, v. , n. ; schemes of a better life, i. ; iv. ; scholar, preferred the society of intelligent men of the world to that of a, iii. , n. ; 'school,' his, described by courtenay, i. ; by reynolds, i. , n. ; iii. ; distinguished for truthfulness, i. , n. ; iii. ; goldsmith, one of its brightest ornaments, i. ; taught men to think rightly, i. , n. ; schoolmaster, life as a, i. , n. , , n. , , n. ; scotch, feelings towards the: see under scotland; scotland, tour in, ii. - ; v. - ; _scottified_, v. ; screen, dines behind a, i. , n. ; scruple, troubled with baxter's, ii. ; not weakly scrupulous, iv. : see scruples; seal, cut with his head, iv. , n. ; seasons, effect of: see weather; second sight: see under scotland, highlands, second sight; 'seducing man, a very,' iv. , n. ; _seraglio_, his, iii. ; an imaginary one, v. ; sermons composed by him, i. ; iii. , n. , ; iv. , n. ; v. ; severe things, how mainly extorted from him, iv. ; shakespeare, read in his childhood, i. ; see under shakespeare; shoes worn out, i. ; sight, account of it by boswell, iv. ; v. ; by miss burney, iv. , n. , , n. ; actors' faces, could not see, ii. , n. ; acuteness shown in criticising dress, v. , n. ; in his french diary, ii. ; in observing scenes, i. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. ; baretti's trial, at, ii. , n. ; _blinking sam,_ iii. , n. ; difficulty in crossing the kennel when a child, i. ; eyes wild and piercing, i. , n. , , n. ; only one eye, i. ; restored to its use, i. ; inflamed, ii. - ; short-sighted, called by dr. percy, iii. ; silence, fits of, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; silver buckles, iii. ; cup, i. , n. ; plate, ii. , n. i; iv. ; singularity, dislike of, ii. , n. ; iv. ; sins, never balanced against virtues, iv. ; slavery, hatred of: see slaves; sleep: see nights; smallpox, has the, v. ; smith, adam, compared with, iv. , n. ; _sober,_ mr., of _the idler,_ iii. , n. ; social, truly, iv. ; society, mixing with polite, i. , , , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , , n. , , - , , , ; v. , , , . , , , , ; solitude, hatred of, i. , n. , , , n. , ; iii; ; iv. ; suffers from it, iv. , n. : see under johnson, household; 'soothed,' ii. ; sophistry, love of, ii. ; recourse to it, iv. iii; sought after nobody, iii. ; southwark election, ii. , n. ; speaking, impressive mode of, ii. ; spelling incorrect, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; spirit, lofty, iv. ; spirit, wishes for evidence for, ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. : see johnson, super-natural; splendour on, £ a year, iv. ; spurs, loses his, iv. , n. ; v. ; st. clement danes, his seat in, ii. ; st. james's square, walks with savage round, i. , n. , ; st. john's gate, reverences, i. iii; st. vitus's dance, v. ; stately shop, deals at a, iv. ; straggler, a, iii; ; streatham, 'absorbed from his old friends,' i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. ; miss burney describes his life there, iv. , n. ; his 'home,' i. , n. ; ii. , , n. ; iii. ; iv. ; his late hours there, ii. ; his farewell to it, iv. ; studied behaviour, disapproves of, i. ; study, advice about, i. ; iv. ; style, account of it, i. - ; addison's, compared with, i. , , n. ; affected by his _dictionary,_ i. , n. ; 'brownism,' i. , ; caricatures of it, by blair, iii. ; colman, iv. , , n. ; _lexiphanes,_ ii. ; maclaurin, ii. ; in a magazine, v. ; man _ode to mrs. thrale,_ iv. ; changes in it, iii. , n. ; criticises it himself, iii. , n. ; easier in his poems than his prose, v. ; female writing, ill-suited for, i. ; formed on temple and chambers, i. ; on writers of the seventeenth century, i. ; gallicisms, dislikes, iii. , n. ; imitations of it, by barbauld, mrs., iii. ; burney, miss, iv. ; burrowes, rev. r., iv. ; gibbon, iv. ; knox, rev. dr., iv. ; mackenzie, henry, iv. , n. ; nares, rev. mr., iv. ; newspapers, iv. , n. ; robertson, iii. ; iv. ; young, professor, iv. ; _lives of the poets,_ iii. , n. ; _lobo's abyssinia,_ translation of, i. ; monboddo, criticised by, iii. ; parentheses, dislikes, iv. ; _plan of the dictionary,_ i. ; rambler, i. ; iii. , n. ; talk, like his, iv. , n. ; 'the former, the latter,' dislikes, iv. ; thrale, mrs., described by, iii. , n. ; translates a saying into his own style, iv. ; warburton attacks it, iv. ; subordination: see subordination; sunday: see sunday; superiority over his fellows, i. ; supernatural agency, willingness to examine it, i. ; v. ; superstition, prone to, iv. ; v. : see ghosts, and johnson, spirit; 'surly virtue,' iii. ; swearing, profane, dislikes, ii. , n. ; iii. ; falsely represented as swearing, ii. , n. ; 'swore enough,' iv. ; uses a profane expression, v. ; swimming, i. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; latin verses on it, ib.; talk--, alike to all, talked, ii. ; best, rule to talk his, iv. , , n. ; books, did not talk from, v. ; calmly in private, iii. ; 'his little fishes would talk like whales,' ii. ; loved to have his talk out, iii. ; not restrained by a stranger, ii. ; iv. ; ostentatiously, talks, v. l ; 'talked their best,' his phrase, iii. , n. ; victory, talks for, ii. ; iv. ; v. , ; writing, like his, iv. , n. : see johnson, conversation; talking to himself: see johnson, peculiarities; _tanti_ men, dislike of, iv. ; taste in theatrical merits, ii. ; tea, careless, mrs., told him when he had enough, ii. , n. ; cups, a dozen, i. , n. ; fifteen, ii. , n. ; sixteen, v. , n. ; _claudile jam rivos pueri_, v. ; effects of it on him, i. ; misses drinking it once, v. ; 'shameless tea-drinker,' i. , n. ; drank it at all hours, i. ; v. ; takes it always with miss williams, i. l; teachers, his, dame oliver, i. ; tom brown, ib.; hawkins, ib.; hunter, i. ; wentworth, i. ; teaching men, pleasure in, ii. ; temper, easily offended, iii. ; iv. ; v. ; violent, iii. , , , , ; iv. , n. ; 'terrible severe humour,' iv. , n. ; violent passion, iv. ; on rattakin, v. - ; tenderness of heart, shown about dr. brocklesby's offer, iv. ; friendship with hoole, iv. ; his friends' efforts for an increase in his pension, iv. ; pious books, iv. , n. ; on hearing dr. hodges's story, ii. , n. ; kissing streatham church, iv. ; and the old willow-tree at lichfield, iv. , n. ; in reciting beattie's _hermit_, iv. ; _dies irae_, iii. , n. ; goldsmith's _traveller_, v. ; lines on levett, iv. , n. ; _vanity of human wishes_, iv. , n. ; terror, an object of, i. , n. ; theatres, left off going to the, ii. ; thinking, excelled in the art of, iv. ; thought more than he read, ii. ; thoughts, loses command over his, ii. ; , n. ; thrales, his 'coalition' with the, i. , n. ; his intimacy not without restraint, iii. ; gross supposition about it, iii. ; supposed wish to marry mrs. thrale, iv. , n. : see thrales, and under johnson, streatham; toleration, views on, ii. - ; tory, a, 'not in the party sense,' ii. ; his toryism abates, v. ; might have written a _tory history of england_, iv. ; 'tossed and gored,' ii. ; tossed boswell, iii. ; town, the, his element, iv. : see. london; 'tragedy-writer, a,' i. ; reason of his failure, i. , , n. ; translates for booksellers, i. ; travelling, love of, appendix b., iii. - ; 'tremendous companion,' i. , n. ; 'true-born englishman,' i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. , ; v. , n. , ; truthfulness, exact precision in conversation, ii. ; iii. ; rousseau, compared with, ii. , n. ; truth held sacred by him, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; all of his 'school' distinguished for it, i. , n. ; iii. ; scrupulously inquisitive to discover it, ii. ; talked as if on oath, ii. , n. ; tutor to mr. whitby, i. , n. ; '_un politique aux choux et aux raves_,' iii. ; uncle, account of an, v. ; unobservant, iii. , n. ; unsocial shyness, free from, iv. ; _ursa major_, v. ; utterance, slow deliberate, ii. ; iv. ; v. ; verse-making, ii. ; made verses and forgot them, ib.; youthful verses, i. ; vesey's, mr., surrounded by great people at, iii. ; virgil, quoted '_optima quceque dies_,' ii. ; reads him, ii. ; iv. ; _vision of theodore_, thought by him the best thing he ever wrote, i. ; vocation to public life, iv. ; to active life, v. ; wales, tour to: see wales; walk, his, in a court in the temple, i. ; wants, fewness of his, ii. , n. ; warrants said to be issued against him, i. ; watch, dial-plate of his, ii. ; watched, his door, v. ; water, lectures on, v. ; water-fall, at dr. taylor's, iii. - ; weather, influence of: see weather; westminster police court, attendance at the, iii. ; whisky, tastes, v. ; 'why, no sir!' iv. , n. ; wife, affection for his, i. , - ; ii. ; disagreements, i. ; reported estrangement, i. , n. ; death, her, i. , , ; alluded to in his letter to chesterfield, i. ; anniversary of the day, i. ; iii. , n. ; , n. ; funeral sermon, i. ; iii. , n. ; grave and epitaph, i. ; iv. , , n. , ; 'resolves on tetty's coffin,' i. , n. ; grief, his, i. - ; almost broke his heart, iii. , ; 'recommended,' i. , n. , , n. ; ii. - ; saucer, her, iii. , n. ; wishes for her in paris, ii. ; at brighton, ib., n. ; wig, his, a bushy one, i. , n. ; paris-made, ii. , n. ; iii. ; fore-top burnt, ib., n. ; wilkes, compared with, iii. , ; will, averse to execute his, iv. ; makes it, ib., n. ; wine, use of, i. , n. ; wisdom, his trade was, iii. , n. ; wit, extraordinary readiness, iii. ; garrick's account of it, ii. ; woman, rescues an outcast, iv. ; talks with others of the class, i. , n. ; iv. ; wonders, distrust of, iii. , n. ; words, charged with using hard and big words, i. , , n. ; iii. ; _sesquipedalia verba_, v. ; in the _rambler_, i. , n. ; in _lives of the poets_, iv. ; needs words of larger meaning, i. ; iii. ; 'terms of philosophy familiarised,' i. ; words added to the language, i. ; iv- , n. ; v. ; work, did his, in a workmanlike manner, iii. ; works, those ascertained marked *, conjectured +, i. , n. ; booksellers' edition, edited by hawkins and stockdale, i. , n. ; iii. iv. ; right reserved by him to print an edition, i. ; iv. ; catalogue of his works, i. - ; asked for by his friends, i. ; iii. ; historia studiorum_, ib.; one made by boswell, iii. ; iv. , n. ; projected works, ib.; payments received, _translation of lobo's abyssinia_, five guineas, i. ; _london_, ten guineas, i. ; translation of part of _sarpi's history_, £ , i. ; _historical account of parliament_, part payment, two guineas for a sheet of copy, i. ; _life of savage_, fifteen guineas, i. , n. ; _dictionary_ £ (heavy out-payments to amanuenses), i. ; _rambler_, two guineas a number, i. , n. ; _vanity of human wishes_, fifteen guineas, i. , n. ; _irene_, theatre receipts, £ , copyright, £ , i. , n. ; _introduction to london chronicle_, one guinea, i. ; _idler_, first collected edition, £ s. d., i. , n. ; _rasselas_, £ , + £ , i. ; _lives of the poets_, guineas (? pounds) agreed on, iii. ; iv. ; £ added, ib.; £ more for a new edition, ib., n. ; world, knowledge of the, iii. ; 'a man of the world,' i. ; had been long 'running about it,' i. ; never complained of it, iv. , ; never sought it, iv. ; respected its judgment, i. , n. ; worshipped, iii. ; writings, criticised his own, iv. ; never wrote error, iv. ; v. : see johnson, composition; youth, pleasure in talking of the days of, iv. . johnson, sarah (johnson's mother), account of her, i. , , n. , ; counted the days to the publication of the _dictionary_, i. ; debt, in, i. ; death, i. , n. , , - ; epitaph, iv. ; funeral expenses and _rasselas_, i. ; _harlcian miscellany_, subscribes to the, i. , n. ; johnson, teaches, i. ; encourages him in his lessons, i. , n. ; hears her call _sam_, iv. ; letters to her, i. i , i , ; marriage, i. ; london, visits, i. , ; receipts for bills, i. , n. . johnson, thomas (johnson's cousin), iv. , n. , . _johnson in birmingham_, i. , n. ; , n. . johnson buildings, iii. , n. . johnson's court, johnson removes to it, ii. ; boswell and beauclerk's veneration for it, ii. , ; 'johnson of that _ilk_,' ib., n. ; iii. , n. . _johnsoniana, or bon-mots of dr. johnson_, ii. ; iii. . _johnsoniana_ (by taylor), iv. , n. . _johnsonianissimus_, i. , n. . _johnsonised_, 'i have _johnsonised_ the land,' i. . _johnston_, the scotch form of johnson, iii. , n. . johnston, arthur, johnson desires his portrait, iv. ; _poemata_, i. ; i ; v. . johnston, sir james, iv. . johnston, w., the bookseller, i. . johnstone, governor, i. , n. . jokes, a game of, ii. . jones, miss (the _chantress_), i. . jones, phil., ii. . jones, rev. river, i. , n. . jones, sir william, garrick's funeral, iii. , n. ; 'harmonious jones,' i. ; johnson's admiration of newton, anecdote of, ii. , n. ; journey, commends, iii. ; use of _scrupulosity_; 'jones teach me modesty and greek,' iv. ; languages, knowledge of, v. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ii. ; v. , n. ; account of the black-balling, iii. , n. ; _persian grammar_, iv. , n. ; portrait, ii. , n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; shipley, miss, marries, iv. , n. ; study of the law, iv. , n. ; thurlow's character, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . jonson, ben, _alchemist_, iii. , n. ; _fall of mortimer_, iii. , n. ; at hawthornden, v. , ; kitely acted by garrick, ii. , n. ; _leges convivales_, iv. , n. . jopp, provost, ii. ; v. . jorden, rev. william (johnson's tutor), i. , , , . jortin, rev. dr. john, attacked by hurd, iv. , n. ; johnson desires information about him, iv. ; _sermons_, iii. . joseph emanuel, king of portugal, iv. , n. . _jour_, derivation of, ii. . journal, how it should be kept, ii. ; kept for a man's own use, iv. ; record to be made at once, i. ; iii. ; v. ; state of mind to be recorded, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; trifles not to be recorded, ii. ; johnson advises baretti to keep one, i. ; and boswell, i. , ; ii. ; mirror, like a, iii. ; regularity inconsistent with spirit, i. : see johnson, journal, and boswell, journal. _journal des savans_, ii. . _journal of a tour to the hebrides_. see under boswell. _journey to london_. see _the provoked husband_. _journey into north wales_, ii. ; v. - ; mrs. piozzi's account of its publication, v. , n. ; suppressions and corrections, ib.; inscription on blank leaf, iv. , n. . _journey to the western islands of scotland_, first thought of in a valley, v. , n. ; composition of it, ii. - , ; in the press, ii. - , , , - ; v. ; published, ii. , ; sale, ii. ; iii. ; second edition, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; note added to it, v. , n. ; translation, ii. , n. ; errors, ii. , , ; v. ; attacked by 'shallow north britons,' ii. , ; in mcnicol's _remarks_, ii. ; supposed attack by macpherson, ib., n. ; in scotch newspapers, ii. ; misapprehended to rancour, v. ; boswell projects a supplement, ii. , n. ; burke, jones and jackson commend it, iii. ; burney's _travels_ in johnson's view as he wrote, iv. ; composed from very meagre materials, v. ; copy sent to the king, ii, ; to warren hastings, iv. ; to various other people, ii. , , , , , ; iii. , ; criticised by dempster, ii. ; iii. ; v. , - ; dick, iii. ; hailes, v. - ; _hermes_ harris, ii. ; knox, ii. ; tytler, ii. ; highlanders like it more than lowlanders, ii. ; iona, description of, iii. ; v. ; johnson anxious to know how it was received, ii. , , ; goes where nobody goes, v. , n. ; had much of it in his mind before starting, iii. . letters to mrs. thrale, ii. , ; v. , n. ; saw a different system of life, iv. ; v. , ; shows gratitude and delicacy, ii. ; macaulay, quoted by, iii. ; new, contains much that is, iii. ; orme, described by, ii. ; v. , n. ; route, choice of a, v. ; talked of in the literary club and london generally, ii. . jowett, rev. professor benjamin, master of balliol college, ii. , n. . jubilee. see shakespeare. judge, an eminent noble, iv. . judges, afraid of the people, v. ; engaging in trade, ii. ; farming, ii. ; in private life, v. ; partial to the populace, ii. ; places held for life, ii. . judgment, compared with admiration, ii. ; source of erroneous judgments, ii. . _julia or the italian lover_, i. , n. . _julia mandeville_, ii. , n. . julien, the treasurer of the clergy, ii. . julien, of the gobelins, v. . julius caesar, iii. . junius, francis, i. . _junius_, burke, not, iii. ; burke, hamilton and wilkes most suspected, ib., n. ; samuel dyer, iv. , n. ; concealment of the author, iii. ; duty of authors who are questioned about the authorship, iv. - ; impudence, his, ii. ; johnson attacks him, ii. ; norton, sir fletcher, attacks, ii. , n. . juries, guards afraid of them, iii. ; judges of law, iii. , n. . justice, a picture of, iv. . justice hall, ii. . justices of the peace. see magistrates. justitia hulk, iii. . juvenal, _third satire_, johnson's imitation, i. (see _london_); boileau's, ib.; oldham's, ib.; _tenth satire_, johnson's imitation, i. (see _vanity of human wishes_); intention to translate other _satires_, i. ; quotations, _sat_. i. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. i. , v. , n. ; _sat_. iii. , i. , n. ; _sat_. iii. , ii. ; _sat_. iii. , i. , n. ; _sat_. iii. , i. , n. ; _sat_. iii. (_unius lacertae_), iii. ; _sat_. viii. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. x. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. x. , ii. ; _sat_. x. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. x. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. x. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. xiv. , iii. , n. . k. kames, lord (henry home), coarse language in court, ii. , n. ; _elements of criticism_, i. ; ii. - ; eton boys, on, i. , n. ; _hereditary indefeasible right_, v. ; johnson, attacks, ii. , n. ; prejudiced against, i. ; 'keep him,' ii. ; _sketches of the history of man_ charles v celebrating his funeral obsequies, iii. ; clarendon's account of villiers's ghost, iii. ; interest of money, iii. ; irish export duties, ii. , n. ; lapouchin, madame, iii. ; paris foundling hospital, mortality in the, ii. , n. ; schools not needed for the poor, iii. , n. ; virtue natural to man, iii. ; smollett's monument, v. ; 'vicious intromission,' ii. , ; mentioned, iii. . kauffmann, angelica, iv. , n. . kearney, michael, i. . kearsley, the bookseller, letter from johnson, i. ; publishes a _life of johnson_, iv. , n. . keddlestone, iii. - ; v. - . keen, sir benjamin, v. , n. . keene, ----, ii. . keith, admiral lord, v. , n. . keith, mrs., v. . keith, robert, _catalogue of the scottish bishops_, i. . keith, ----, a collector of excise, v. - . kelly, sixth earl of, v. . kelly, hugh, account of him, iii. , n. ; displays his spurs, iv. , n. ; _false delicacy_, ii. ; johnson's _prologue_, iii. , . kemble, john, visits johnson, iv. - ; anecdote of johnson and garrick, i. , n. ; affected by mrs. siddons' acting, iv. , n. . kempis, thomas à, editions and translations, iii. ; iv. ; johnson quotes him, iii. , n. ; reads him in low dutch, iv. . ken, bishop, connected by marriage with isaac walton, ii. , n. ; a nonjuror, iv. , n. ; rule about sleep, iii. , n. . kennedy, rev. dr., _complete system of astronomical chronology_, i. . kennedy, dr., author of a foolish tragedy, iii. . kennedy, house of, v. . kennicott, dr. benjamin, _collations_, ii. ; edition of the hebrew bible, v. ; meets johnson, iv. , n. . kennicott, mrs., iv. , n. , , , , n. , . kennington common, iii. , n. . kenrick, dr. william, account of him, i. ; _epistle to james boswell, esq_., ii. ; garrick libels, i. , n. ; goldsmith, libels, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; johnson, attacks, i. ; ii. ; v. ; made himself public, i. ; iii. ; mentioned, ii. . kent, militia, i. , n. . kepler, i. , n. . keppel, admiral, iv. , n. . kerr, james, v. . keswick, iv. . kettlewell, john, iv. , n. . keysler, j. g., travels, ii. . kidgell, john, v. , n. . killaloe, bishop of. see dean barnard. killingley, m., iii. . kilmarnock, earl of, i. ; v. , n, ; . kilmorey, lord, i. , n. ; v. . kimchi, rabbi david, i. . kincardine, alexander, earl, and veronica, countess of, v. , n. ; , n. . kindness, duty of cultivating it, iii. . king, captain, iv. , n. . king, lord chancellor, i. , n. . king, henry, bishop of chichester, ii. , n. . king, rev. dr., a dissenter, iii. . king, thomas, the comedian, ii. , n. . king, william, archbishop of dublin, _essay on the origin of evil_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. ; troubles swift, ii. , n. . king, dr. william, principal of st. mary hall, oxford, account of him, i. , n. ; his greatness, i. , n. ; english of atterbury, gower, and johnson, ii. , n. ; jacobite speech in , i. , n. ; in , i. ; pretender in london, meets the, v. , n. ; describes his meanness, v. , n. ; pulteney and walpole, v. , n. . _king, the, v. topham_, iii. , n. . king's evil, johnson touched for it, i. ; account of it, ib., n. . 'king's friends,' iv. , n. . king's library, i. . king's painter, iv. , n. . king's printing-house, ii. , n. . kings, conversing with them, ii. , n. ; flattered at church and on the stage, ii. ; flatter themselves, ib.; great kings always social, i. ; ill-trained, i. , n. ; johnson ridicules them, i. ; minister, should each be his own, ii. ; oppressive kings put to death, ii. ; praises exaggerated, ii. ; reverence for them depends on their right, iv. ; resistance to them sometimes lawful, i. ; servants of the people, i. , n. ; 'the king can do no wrong,' i. ; want of inherent right, iv. . kingsnorton, i. , n. . kinnoul, lord, ii. , n. . kinver, v. . kippis, dr. andrew, edits _biographia britannica_, iii. ; his 'biographical catechism,' iv. ; mentioned, iv. ; v. , n. . knapton, messieurs, the booksellers, i. , , n. . kneller, sir godfrey, as a justice of the peace, iii. ; his portraits, iv. , n. . knight, captain, i. , n. . knight, joseph, a negro, account of him, iii. , n. ; cullen's answer, iii. ; maclaurin's plea, iii. , ; johnson offers a subscription, ib.; interested in him, iii. , , ; _argument_, iii. , - ; decision, iii. , , . knighton, i. , n. . knitting, iii. . knives not provided in foreign inns, ii. , n. . knolles, richard, _turkish history_, i. . knotting, iii. ; iv. . knowle, near bristol, i. , n. . knowledge, all kinds of value, ii. ; desirable per se, i. ; desire of it innate, i. ; diffusion of it not a disadvantage, iii. , ; question of superiority, ii. ; two kinds, ii. . see education and learning. knowles, mrs., the quakeress, courage and friendship, on, iii. ; death, on, iii. ; johnson, meets, in , iii. ; in , iii. - ; her account of the meeting, iii. , n. ; describes his mode of reading, iii. ; liberty to women, argues for, iii. ; proselyte to quakerism, defends a, iii. ; sutile pictures, her, iii. , n. . knox, john, the reformer, cardinal beaton's death, v. , n. ; his 'reformations,' v. l; burial-place, ib., n. ; set on a mob, v. ; his posterity, v. . knox, john, bookseller and author, ii. , . knox, rev. dr. vicesimus, _boswell's life of johnson_, praises, iv. , n. ; johnson's biographers, attacks, iv. , n. ; imitates his style, i. , n. ; iv. ; oxford, attacks, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; popularity as a writer, iv. , n. . kristrom, mr., ii. . l. _labefactation_, ii. . labour, all men averse to it, ii. - ; iii. , n. . labrador, iv. , n. . la bruyÈre. see bruyere. lace, a suit of, ii. . _laceration_, ii. ; iii. , n. . _lactantius_, iii. . ladd, sir john. see lade. lade, sir john, account of him, iv. , n. ; johnson's advice to him about marriage, ii. , n. ; lines on him, iv. . ladies of quality, iii. . lady at bath, an empty-headed, iii. . lafeldt, battle of, iii. . lamb, charles, account of davies's recitation, i. , n. ; methodists saying grace, v. , n. ; no one left to call him charley, iii. , n. . lancashire, militia, i. , n. . lancaster, boswell at the assizes, iii. , n. . lancaster, dr., provost of queen's college, oxford, i. , n. . lancaster, house of, iii. . land, advantage produced by selling it all at once, ii. ; entails and natural right, ii. ; investments in it, iv. ; v. ; part to be left in commerce, ii. . land-tax in scotland, ii. . landlords, leases, not giving, v. ; rents, raising, ii. ; right to control tenants at elections, ii. , ; scotch landlords, high situation of, i. ; tenants, their dependancy, ii. ; difficulty of getting, iv. ; to be treated liberally, i. ; under no obligation, ii. . landor, w. s., johnson's geographical knowledge, i. , n. . lang, dr., ii. , n. . langbaine, gerard, iii. , n. . langdon, mr., iii. , n. . langley, rev. w., ii. , n. ; iii. ; v. . langton, bennet, account of him, i. ; _acceptum et expensum_, iv. ; addison and goldsmith, compares, ii. ; addison's conversation, iii. ; aristophanes, reads, iv. , n. , ; barnes's maccaronic verses, quotes, iii. ; beauclerk, his early friend, i. : makes him second guardian to his children, iii. ; leaves him a portrait of garrick, iv. ; birth and matriculation at oxford, i. , n. , ; blue stocking assembly, at a, v. , n. ; boswell, letter to, iii. ; boswell's obligations to him, ii. , n. ; burke and johnson, comparing homer and virgil, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; burke's wit, i. , n. ; carpenter and a clergyman's wife, anecdote of a, ii. , n. ; children, his, too much about him, iii. ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. , , , ; clarendon's style, praises, iii. ; coach, on the top of a, i. ; collection of johnson's sayings, iv. - ; daughters to be taught greek, iv. , n. ; dinners and suppers at his house, ii. ; iii. , , ; economy, no turn to, iii. , n. ; expenditure and foibles criticised, iii. , n. , , , , , , , , , , ; iv. ; _frisk_, joins in a, i. ; greek, knowledge of, iv. , n. ; clenardus's _greek grammar_, iv. ; recitation, ib., n. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; hale, sir matthew, anecdote of, iv. ; _idler_, anecdote of the, i. l; introduces subjects on which people differ, iii. ; johnson, afraid of, iv. ; at fairest advantage with him, i. , n. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; and burke, an evening with, iv. ; conversation before dinner, repeats, iii. ; _confessor_, iv. - ; death, unfinished letter on, iv. , n. ; deference to, iv. , n. ; devotion to, when ill, iv. , n. ; when dying, iv. - , , n. , ; dress as a dramatic author, describes, i. ; estimate of spence, v. , n. . first acquaintance with him, i. ; iv. ; friendship with him, iv. , , ; rupture in it, ii. , n. , , n. , , ; v. ; reconciliation, ii. ; funeral, at, iv. ; gives him a copy of his letter to chesterfield, i. ; imitates, iv. , n. ; jacobitism, i. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; levee, attends, ii. ; loan to him, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; repaid in an annuity to barber, ib.; _ode on inchkenneth_, alters, ii. , n. ; and parr, an evening with, iv. ; _poemata_, edits, ii. , n. ; iv. ; v. , n. , , n. ; portrait, removes the inscription on, iv. ; praises his worth, iii. ; exclaims, '_sit anima mea cum langtono_,' iv. ; _prologue_, criticises, iv. ; rebuked by, ii. ; urges him to keep accounts, iv. , n. ; visits him at langton, i. , , n. ; at rochester, iv. , n. , , - ; at warley camp, iii. - ; king, gives the sketch of _irene_ to the, i. ; and the catalogue of johnson's projected works, iv. , n. ; 'lanky,' ii. ; v. ; laughed at, iii. , n. ; lincoln, highly esteemed in, iii. ; literary character, his, i. , n. ; literary club, original member of the, i. ; marries lady rothes, ii. , n. ; militia, in the, iii. , , , , , ; appointed major, iii. , n. ; _navigation_, his, ii. ; nicolaida visits him, ii. ; orchard, has no, iv. ; paoli visits him at rochester, iv. , n. ; paris, visits, i. ; pedigree, his, i. , n. ; personal appearance, i. , n. , ; pitt's neglect of boswell, blames, iii. , n. ; pope reciting the last lines of the _dunciad_, ii. , n. ; religious discourse, introduces, ii. ; iv. ; v. ; richardson, introduced to, iv. ; round-robin, refuses to sign the, iii. , n. ; royal academy, professor of the, ii. , n. ; iii. ; ruining himself without pleasure, iii. , ; _rusticks_, writes, i. ; school on his estate, establishes a, ii. ; silent, too, iii. ; sluggish, iii. ; story, thought a story a, ii. ; table, his, iii. , ; talks from books, v. , n. ; _traveller_, praises the, iii. ; vesey's, mr., an evening at, iii. ; iv. i, n. ; will, makes his, ii. ; 'worthy,' iii. , n. ; young, account of, iv. ; mentioned, i. , , n. ; ii. , n. , , , , n. , , , , , , , , , , , n. , ; iii. , , , , , , , , , ; iv. , , , , n. , , , , ; v. , . langton, cardinal stephen, i. . langton, old mr. (bennet langton's father), canal, his, iii. ; exuberant talker, an, ii. ; freedom from affectation, iv. ; johnson's jacobitism, believes in, i. ; in his being a papist, i. ; offers a living to, i. ; picture, would not sit for his, iv. ; stores of literature, his, iv. ; mentioned, i. ; ii. . langton, mrs. (bennet langton's mother), i. , , ; ii. ; iv. , . langton, george (bennet langton's eldest son), i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. . langton, miss jane (bennet langton's daughter), johnson's goddaughter, iii. , . ; iv. , ; his letter to her, iv. . langton, miss mary (bennet langton's daughter), iv. . langton, peregrine (bennet langton's uncle), ii. - . langton, in lincolnshire, johnson invited there, i. ; ii. ; visits it, i. , , n. ; ii. ; describes the house, v. . languages, formed on manners, ii. ; origin, iv. ; pedigree of nations, ii. ; v. ; scanty and inadequate, iv. ; speaking one imperfectly lets a man down, ii. ; writing verses in dead languages, ii. . languor, following gaiety, iii. . lansdowne, viscount (george granville), _drinking song to sleep_, i. . lapidary inscriptions, ii. . lapland, i. ; ii. , n, . laplanders, v. . lapouchin, madame, iii. . lascaris' _grammar_, v. . last, horror of the, i. , n. . latin, beauty of latin verse, i. ; difficulty of mentioning in it modern names and titles, iv. , ; essential to a good education, i. ; few read it with pleasure, v. , n. ; modern latin poetry, i. , n. ; pronunciation, ii. , n. . see epitaphs. _latiner_, a, iv. , n. . la trobe, mr., iv. . laud, archbishop, assists lydiat, i. , n. ; _diary_ quoted, ii. ; his scotch liturgy, ii. . lauder, william, account of his fraud about milton, i. - ; deceives johnson, i. , , n. . lauderdale, duke of, burnet's dedication to him, v. . laughers, time to be spent with them, iv. . laughter, a faculty which puzzles philosophers, ii. ; chesterfield, johnson, pope and swift on it, ib., n. ; laughing at a man to his face, iii. . see johnson, laugh. laurel, the, i. . lausanne, iv. , n. . la valliÈre, mlle, de, v. , n. . lavater's _essay on physiognomy_, iv. , n. . law, archdeacon, iii. . law, edmund, bishop of carlisle, cambridge examinations, iii. , n. ; parentheses, loved, iii. , n. ; remarks on pope's _essay on man_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . law, robert, fellow of trinity college, dublin, i. . law, william, behmen, a follower of, ii. ; each man's knowledge of his own guilt, iv. ; johnson's _dictionary_, cited in, iv. , n. ; _serious call_, praised by johnson, i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. , ; by gibbon, wesley and whitefield, i. , n. ; by psalmanazar, iii. . law, coke's definition of it, iii. , n. ; honesty compatible with the practice of it, ii. , , n. ; v. , ; laws last longer than their causes, ii. ; manners, made and repealed by, ii. ; particular cases, not made for, iii. ; primary notion is restraint, ii. ; reports, english and scotch, ii. ; writers on it need not have practised it, ii. . law-lord, a dull, iv. . lawrence, chauncy, iv. . lawrence, sir soulden, ii. , n. . lawrence, dr. thomas, account of him, ii. , n. ; president of the college of physicians, ii. ; iv. ; death, iv. , n. ; illness, iv. - ; johnson addresses to him an ode, iv. , n. ; learnt physic from him, iii. ; long friendship with him, i. ; iv. , , n. (for his letters to him, see johnson, letters); wife, death of his, iii. ; mentioned, i. , ; iii. , , ; iv. . lawrence, miss, i. ; iv. ; johnson's letter to her, iv. , n. . lawyers, barristers have less law than of old, ii. ; 'nobody reads now,' iv. ; chance of success, iii. ; johnson's advice, iv. ; sir w. jones's, ib., n. ; sir m. hale's, iv. , n. ; bookish men, good company for, iii. ; charles's, prince, saying about them, ii. ; consultations on sundays, ii. ; honesty: see under law; knowledge of great lawyers varied, ii. ; multiplying words, iv. ; players, compared with, ii. ; plodding-blockheads, ii. ; soliciting employment, ii. ; work greatly mechanical, ii. . laxity of talk. see johnson, laxity. lay-patrons. see scotland, church. layer, richard, i. . laziness, worse than the toothache, v. . lea, rev. samuel, i. . leandro alberti, ii. ; v. . learned gentleman, a, ii. . learning, decay of it, i. ; iv. ; v. ; degrees of it, iv. ; difficulties, v. ; giving way to politics, i. , n. ; important in the common intercourse of life, i. ; 'more generally diffused,' iv. ; trade, a, v. : see authors. leasowes, v. , n. , . lecky, w.e.h., history of england, ii. , n. . le clerk, i. . lectures, teaching by, ii. ; iv. . le despencer, lord, ii. , n. . _ledger, the_, iv. , n. . lee, alderman, iii. , n. , , , n. . lee, arthur, iii. , , , n. . lee, john (jack lee), account of him, iii. , n. ; at the bar of the house of commons, iii. ; on the duties of an advocate, ii. , n. . leechman, principal william, account of him, v. , n. ; johnson calls on him, v. ; writes on prayer, v. ; answered by cumming, v. . leeds, iii. , . leeds, duke of, verses on his marriage, iv. . leeds, fifth duke of, member of the literary club, i. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . leek, in staffordshire, i. ; iii. . le fleming, bishop of carlisle, i. , n. . le fleming, sir michael, i. , n. . _leeward_, i. . leeward islands, ii. . legitimation, ii. . legs, putting them out in company, iii. . leibnitz, controversy with clarke, v. ; on the derivation of languages, ii. ; mentioned, i. . leicester, iii. ; iv. , n. . leicester, robert dudley, earl of, v. . leicester, mr. (beauclerk's relation), iii. . leisure, for intellectual improvement, ii. ; sickness from it, a disease to be dreaded, iv. . leland, counsellor, iii. . leland, john, _itinerary_, v. . leland, dr. thomas, _history of ireland_, ii. ; iii. ; hurd, attacked by, iv. , n. ; johnson's letters to him, i. , ; ii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . leman, sir william, i. , n. . leman, lake, iv. , n. . lending money, influence gained by it, ii. . lennox, mrs., character by mrs. thrale, iv. , n. ; lived to a great age, ib., n. ; english version of brumoy, publishes an, i. ; _female quixote_, i. ; goldsmith advised to hiss her play, iv. ; johnson cites her in his _dictionary_, iv. , n. ; writes _proposals_ for publishing her _works_, ii. ; gives a supper in her honour, i. , n. ; _shakespeare illustrated_, i. ; superiority, her, iv. ; _translation of sully's memoirs_, i. . leod, v. . leoni, ----, the singer, iii. , n. . _leonidas_, v. . le roy, julien, ii. , . lesley, john, _history of scotland_, ii. . leslie, charles, the nonjuror, iv. , n. . leslie, c. r., anecdote of the countess of corke, iv. , n. . leslie, professor, of aberdeen, v. . lesseps, m. de, v. , n. . _let ambition fire thy mind,_ iii. . _lethe_, i. . _letter to lord chesterfield_ published separately, i. , n. . _letter to john dunning, esq._, i. , n. . letter-writing, iv. . letters, none received in the grave, iv. ; studied endings, v. . see dates. _letters from italy_, iii. . see sharp, samuel. _letters of an english traveller_, iv. , n. . _letters on the english nation_, v. . _letter to dr. samuel johnson occasioned by his late political publications_, ii. . _letters to lord mansfield_, ii. . see andrew stuart. _letters to the people of england_, iv. , n. . _lettre de cachet_, v. . _lettres persanes_, iii. , n. . lettsom, dr., iii. . levee, johnson's. see under johnson. levees, ministers', ii. . levellers, i. . lever, sir ashton, iv. . levett, john, of lichfield, i. ; johnson's letter to him, i. ; unseated as member for lichfield, i. , n. . levett, robert, account of him, i. ; awkward and uncouth, iii. ; brothers, his, iv. ; brutality in manners, iii. ; complains of the kitchen, ii. , n. ; death, iv. , , ; desmoulins, hates, iii. ; '_doctor_ levett,' ii. ; johnson's birth-day dinners, present at, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; companion, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. ; iv. , , , n. ; introduced langton to, i. ; iv. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; lines on him, iv. , , , , n. ; questioned about, iii. ; his recommendation to, i. ; writings, makes out a list of, iii. ; johnson's court, garret in, ii. ; marriage, i. , ; mentioned, i. , n. , ; iii. , , , ; iv. . lewis le gros, iii. , n. . lewis xiv, celebrated in many languages, i. ; charges accumulated on him, ii. , n. ; discontent and ingratitude, on, ii. , n. ; king of siam sends him ambassadors, iii. ; la vallière, mlle. de, v. , n. ; manners, ii. ; torture used in his reign, i. , n. ; why endured by the french, ii. . lewis xvi, execution, ii. , n. ; hume, when a child makes a set speech to, ii. , n. ; johnson, seen by, ii. , - ; paoli, gives high office in corsica to, ii. , n. ; torture used in his reign, i. , n. . lewis xviii, when a child makes a set speech to hume, ii. , n. . lewis, david, verses to pope, iv. ; _miscellany_, ib., n. . lewis, dean, i. , n. , . lewis, f., translates mottoes for the _rambler_, i. . lewson, mrs., iii. . lexicographer, defined, i. ; bolingbroke's anecdote of one, ib., n. ; referred to in the _rambler_, i. , n. . lexiphanes, ii. . leyden, iv. ; v. . libels, actions for them, iii. ; dead, on the, iii. ; england and america, in, i. , n. ; fox's libel bill, iii. , n. ; juries, judges of the law, iii. , n. ; refuse to convict, i. , n. ; pulpit, from the, iii. ; severe law against libels, i. , n. . liberty, all _boys_ love it, iii. ; clamours for it, i. , n. ; iii. , n, ; conscience, of, ii. ; iv. ; destroying a portion of it without necessity, iii. ; liberty and licentiousness, ii. ; luxury, effects of, ii. ; political and private, ii. , ; press, of the: see press; pulpit, of the, iii. ; _taedium vitae_, kept off by the notion of it, i. ; teaching, of, ii. ; iv. ; thinking, preaching, and acting, of, ii. . liberty and necessity. see free will. libraries, johnson helps in forming the king's library, ii. , n. ; describes the oxford libraries, ii. , , n. ; key of one always lost, v. ; _stall library_, iii. . licensing act for plays, i. , n. . lichfield, ale, ii. ; iv. ; antiquities, iv. ; _beaux stratagem_, scene of the, ii. , n. ; bishop's palace, ii. ; boswell and johnson visit it in , ii. ; boswell shown real 'civility,' iii. ; boswell visits it in , iii. - ; boys dipped in the font, i. , n. ; cathedral, i. , n. ; ii. ; v. ; johnson in the porch, ii. , n. ; city of philosophers, ii. ; city and county in itself, i. , n. ; coach-journey from london, i. , n. ; postchaise, iii. ; darwin's house, v. , n. ; drunk, all the _decent_ people got, v. ; english spoken there, purity of the, ii. - ; _evelina_ not heard of there, ii. , n. ; friary, the, ii. ; iii. ; george inn, iii. ; green's museum, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; hospital, v. ; hutton describes the town in , i. , n. ; jacobite fox-hunt, iii. , n. ; johnson, michael, a magistrate, i, ; ii. , n. ; johnson, his barber, ii. , n. ; beloved in his native city, ii. ; respect shown him by the corporation, iv. , n. ; defines it in his _dictionary_, iv. ; hopes to set a good example, iv. ; house, i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. ; , n. ; latin verses to a stream, iii. , n, ; as lord lichfield, iii. ; loses three old friends, iv. ; monument in the cathedral, iv. ; portrait admired there, ii. ; saucer in the museum, iii. , n. ; theatre, tosses a man into the pit of the, ii. ; in love with an actress, ii. ; praises an actor, ii. ; attends it with boswell, ii. - , ; visits the town for the first time after living in london, i. ; last visit, iv. ; (for his other visits see iii. - ); weary of it, ii. ; willow tree, iv. , n. ; lecture on experimental philosophy, v. ; manufactures, ii. ; oat ale and cakes, ii. ; people sober and genteel, ii. ; population in , iii. ; prerogative court, i. , ; sacheverell preaches there, i. , n. ; _salve, magna parens_, iv. ; school, account of it in johnson's time, i. - ; compared with stourbridge school, i. ; buildings dilapidated, i. , n. ; endowment, v. , n. ; famous scholars, i. ; service for a sick woman, v. ; seward's, miss, verses on it, iv. ; st. mary's church repaired, i. ; johnson attends it in , ii. ; st. michael's church, graves of johnson's parents and brother, iv. ; stowhill, ii. ; iii. ; swan inn, v. ; thrales, the, visit it in with johnson, v. , , n. ; three crowns inn, ii. ; iii. ; _warner's tour_, iv. , n. . lichfield, fourth earl of, iii. . lichfield, leonard, an oxford bookseller, i. , n. . liddell, sir henry, ii. , n. . lies, 'consecrated lies,' i. ; disarm their own force, ii. ; johnson's _adventurer_ on lying, ii. , n. ; use of the word _lie_, iv. ; lying to the public, ii. ; servants 'not at home,' i. ; to the sick, iv. ; of vanity, iv. : see falsehood and truth. life, changes in its form desirable at times, iii. ; changes in its modes, ii. : see under manners; choice, few have any, iii. ; just choice impossible, ii. , ; climate, not affected by, ii. ; composed of small incidents, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; domestick life little touched by public affairs, i. ; dryden's lines, ii. ; iv. ; every season has its proper duties, v. ; expecting more from it than life will afford, ii. ; happiest part lying awake in the morning, v. ; imbecility in its common occurrences, iii. ; method, to be thrown into a, iii. ; miseries, i. , n. , , n. ; 'balance of misery,' iv. ; 'nauseous draught,' iii. ; none would live it again, ii. , iv. - ; pain better than death, iii. ; iv. ; progress from want to want, iii. ; progression, must be in, iv. , n. ; state of weariness, ii. ; studied in a great city, iii. ; system of life not easily disturbed, ii. ; a well-ordered poem, iv. . _life of alfred_, johnson projects a, i. . lilliburlero, ii. . lilliput, senate of, i. . lilly, william, iii. . lincoln, a city and county, i. , n. ; visited by boswell, iii. . lincoln's inn, society of, iv. , n. . lincolnshire, militia, i. , n. ; iii. ; orchards very rare, iv. ; reeds, v. ; mentioned, v. . _line_, the civil, iii. . linen, v. . _linguae latinae liber dictionarius_, i. , n. . linley, miss, ii. , n. . linlithgow, earl of, v. , n. . lintot, bernard, the bookseller, quarrels with pope, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii, , n. ; iv. , n. . lintot the younger, johnson said to have written for him, i. ; his warehouse, i. . liquors, scale of, iii. ; iv. . lisbon, earthquake, i. , n. ; parliamentary vote of £ , for relief, i. , n. ; packet boat to england, iv. , n. ; persecution of malagrida, iv. , n. ; postage to london, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . _literary anecdotes_, nichols's, iv. , n. . literary club. see clubs. literary fame, ii. , n. , , . literary friend, a pompous, iv. . literary impostors. see impostors. literary journals, ii. . _literary magazine or universal review_, i. , , , . literary man, life of a, iv. . literary property. see copyright. literary reputation, ii. . literary reviews. see critical and monthly. literature, amazing how little there is, iii. , n. ; dignity, its, iii. ; england, neglected in, ii. , n. ; before france in it, iii. ; general courtesy of literature, iv. ; generally diffused, iv. , n. ; how far injured by abundance of books, iii. ; respect paid to it, iv. ; wearers of swords and powdered wigs ashamed to be illiterate, iii. . little things, contentment with them, iii. ; danger of it, iii. . littleton, adam, i. , n. . liveliness, study of, ii. . liverpool, iii. . liverpool, first earl of. see jenkinson, charles. liverpool, third earl of, iii. , n. . lives of the poets, account of its publication advertised, iii. ; _advertisement_, iv. , n. ; johnson's engagement with the booksellers, iii. ; design greatly enlarged, iv. ; payment agreed on, iii. ; extraordinarily moderate, ib., n. ; £ added, iv. ; payment for a separate edition, ib., n. ; progress of their composition, iii. , , n. ; first four volumes published, iii. , , n. ; johnson's indolence in finishing the last six, iii. , ; iv. , , n. ; published, iv. ; printed separately, iv. , n. , ; additions, ib., n. . reprinting, iv. ; new edition, iv. ; attacks expected, iii. ; attacked, iv. - ; booksellers, impudence of the, iv. , n. ; boswell has the proof sheets, iii. ; and most of the manuscript, iv. , , ; his observations on some of the _lives_, iv. - ; commended generally, iv. ; contemporaries, difficulty in writing the _lives_ of, iii. , n. ; copies presented to mrs. boswell, iii. ; to the king, ib., n. ; to wilkes, iv. ; to langton, iv. ; to bewley, iv. ; to rev. mr. wilson, iv. ; to cruikshank, iv. ; to miss langton, iv. ; to johnson's physicians, iv. , n. ; dilly's account of the undertaking, iii. ; johnson's anger at an indecent poem being inserted, iv. , n. ; collects materials, iii. ; not the _editor_ of this collection of poets, iii. , n. , , ; iv. , n. ; inattention to minute accuracy, iii. , n. ; letters to nichols the printer, iv. , n. ; portraits in different editions, iv. , n. ; recommends the insertion of four poets, iii. ; iv. , n. ; trusted much to his memory, iv. , n. ; nichols, printed by, iv. , , n. , ; piety, written so as to promote, iv. ; rochester's _poems_ castrated by steevens, iii. ; rough copy sent to the press, iv. ; savage, many of the anecdotes from, i. ; titles suggested, iv. , n. ; words, learned, iv. . _lives of the poets_ (bell's edition), ii. , n. ; iii. . _lives of the poets_, by theophilus cibber, i. ; iii. - . livings, inequality of, ii. . livy, i. ; ii. . llandaff, bishopric of, iv. , n. . lloyd, a., _account of mona_, v. . lloyd (llwyd), humphry, v. . lloyd, mrs., savage's god-mother, i. . lloyd, olivia, i. . lloyd, robert, the poet, account of him, i. , n. ; _connoisseur_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; _odes to obscurity_, ii. . lloyd, mr. and mrs. sampson, boswell and johnson dine with them, ii. , ; _barclay's apology_, ii. ; observance of days, ii. . lloyd, william, bishop of st. asaph, his learning in ready cash, ii. , n. ; his palace, v. . lloyd, ----, of maesmynnan, v. . lloyd, ----, schoolmaster of beaumaris, v. . loan, government, raised at eight per cent, in , iii. ; n. . _lobo's abyssinia_, johnson translates it, i. , n. , - , , n. ; sees a copy in his old age, iii. . _loca solennia_, boswell writes to johnson from, ii. , n. . local, attachment, ii. ; consequence, ii. ; histories, iv. , n. ; sanctity, ii. . lochbuy, laird of, johnson visits him, v. - ; his dungeon, v. . lochbuy, lady, v. - . lochiel, chief of, v. , n. . locke, john, anecdote of him and dr. clarke, i. , n. ; _common-place book_, i. ; exportation of coin, on the, iv. ; last words to collins, iii. , n. ; latin verses, v. - ; style, iii. , n. ; _treatise on education_, cold bathing for children, i. , n. ; the proper age for travelling, iii. ; whipping an infant, ii. ; watts, dr., answered by, ii. , n. . locke, william, of norbury park, iv. . lockhart, sir george, v. , n. . lockhart, j. g., _captain carleton's memoirs_, on the authorship of, iv. , n. ; johnson on the royal marriage bill, ii. , n. ; scott and the _vanity of human wishes_, i. , n. . lockman, j., i. , n. ; '_l'illustre lockman_,' iv. . lodging-house landlords, i. . lofft, capel, account of him, iv. ; his _reports_ quoted, iii. , n. . lombe, john, iii. . london i. london, advantages of it, ii. ; black wednesday, v. , n. ; bones gathered for various uses, iv. ; boswell's love for london: see boswell, london; buildings, new, iv. ; rents not fallen in consequence, iii. , ; burke, described by, iii. , n. ; burrow, near one's, i. , n. ; iii. ; censure escaped in it, see below, freedom from censure; centre of learning, ii. ; circulating libraries, i. , n. ; ii. . n. ; city, aldermen, political divisions among the, iii. ; camden, lord, honours shown to, ii. , n. ; common-council, inflammable, ii. ; petitions for mercy to dodd, iii. , n. , ; subscribes to carte's _history_, i. , n. ; contest with house of commons, ii. , n. ; iii. - ; iv. ; division in the popular party, iii. ; iv. , n. ; king, presents a remonstrance to the ( ), iii. ; an address ( ), iii. , n. ; an address ( ), iv. , n. ; 'leans towards him' ( ), iv. ; 'in unison with the court' ( ), iv. , n. ; lord mayors not elected by seniority, iii. , - ; ministers for seven years not asked to the lord mayor's feast, iii. ; wilkes, the chamberlain, iv. , n. ; city-poet, iii. ; city, women of the, iii. ; culloden, news of, v. , n. ; dangers from robbers in , i. , n. ; johnson attacked, ii. ; 'dangers of the night,' i. , n. ; dear to men of letters, ii. ; deaths, from hunger, iii: ; from all causes, iv. ; eating houses unsociable, i. ; economy, a place for, iii. ; freedom from censure, ii. ; iii. ; gibbon loves its dust, iii. , n. ; and the liberty that it gives, iii. , n. ; gin-shops, iii. , n. ; glasshouses, i. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. - ; greatest series of shops in the world, ii. ; hackney-coaches, number of, iv. ; happiness to be had out of it, iii. ; heaven upon earth, iii. , ; hospitality, ii. ; hospitals, iii. , n. ; increase, complaints of its, iii. ; influence extended everywhere, ii. ; intellectual pleasure, affords, iii. , ; iv. ; v. ; irish chairmen, ii. ; johnson loves it, i. ; ii. , ; iii. ; iv. ; returns to it to die, iv. - ; life on £ a year, i. ; _london_, described in johnson's, i. ; london-bred men strong, ii. ; iv. ; magnitude and variety, i. ; ii. , ; iii. ; iv. ; minorca, compared with life in, iii. ; mobs and illuminations, iii. : see below, riots; mortality of children, iv. ; parish, a london, ii. ; pavement, the new, v. , n. ; pekin, compared with, v. ; population not increased, iv. ; preferable to all other places, iii. , ; press-gangs not suffered to enter the city in sawbridge's mayoralty, iii. ; recorder's report to the king of sentences of death, iii. , n. ; relations in london, ii. ; reynolds's love of it, iii. , n. ; riots in . ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; shoe-blacks, ii. ; iii. ; shopkeeper compared with a savage, v. , ; slaughter-houses, v. ; society, compared with paris, iii. ; strikes, iii. , n. ; theatre, proposal for a third, iv. ; tires of it, no man, iii. ; boswell will tire of it, iii. ; too large, ii. ; trained bands, iv. ; universality, ii. ; wall, taking the, i. ; v. ; wits, ii. ; wheat, price of, in , iii. , n. . ii. localities. london, aldersgate street, milton's school, ii. , n. ; anchor brewhouse, i. , n. ; argyll street, johnson's room in mrs. thrale's house, iii. , n. ; iv. , ; bank of england, jack wilkes defends it against the rioters, iii. ; barking creek, iii. , n. ; barnard's inn, no. , oliver edward's chambers, iii. ; batson's coffee-house, frequented by physicians, iii. , n. ; baxter's (afterwards thomas's), dover street, literary club met there, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; bedford coffee-house, garrick attacks dodsley's _cleone_, i. , n. ; bedford street, 'old' mr. sheridan's house, i. , n. ; billingsgate, johnson, beauclerk and langton row to it, i. ; johnson and boswell take oars for greenwich, i. ; johnson lands there, iv. , n. ; black boy, strand, johnson dates a letter from it, iii. , n. ; blackfriars, boswell and johnson cross in a boat to it, ii. ; blackfriars bridge, johnson's letter about the design for it, i. ; blenheim tavern, bond street, meeting place of the eumelian club, iv. , n. ; boar's head, eastcheap, a shakesperian club, v. ; bolt court, boswell takes his last leave of johnson at the entry, iv. ; johnson's last house, ii. ; iii. , n. ; garden, ii. , n. ; burnt down, ib.; described in pennant's _london_, iii. ; oxford post-coach takes up boswell and johnson there, iv. ; bond street, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; bow church, confirmation of bishop hampden's election, iv. , n. ; bow street, johnson resides there, iii. , n. ; sir john fielding's office, i. ; bridewell churchyard, levett buried there, iv. ; british coffee house, boswell and johnson dine there, ii. ; club, account of a, iv. , n. ; guthrie and captain cheap, i. , n. ; buckingham house, ii. , n. ; butcher row, account of it, i. , n. ; boswell and johnson dine there, i. ; meet edwards there, iii. ; button's coffee-house, addison frequented it, iv. , n. ; dryden _said_ to have had his winter and summer chairs there, iii. , n. ; carlisle house, iv. , n. ; castle street, cavendish square, johnson lodged there, i. , , n. ; iii. , n. ; visited the miss cotterells, i. ; catherine street, strand, johnson describes a tavern, v. ; lodged near it, i. ; iii. , n. ; charing cross, full tide of human existence, ii. ; iii. ; charing cross to whitechapel, the greatest series of shops in the world, ii. ; clerkenwell, an alehouse where johnson met mr. browne, i. , n. ; clerkenwell bridewell, broken open in the gordon riots, iii. ; described in _humphry clinker_, ii. , n. ; clifford's inn, lysons lived there, iv. , n. ; clifton's eatinghouse, i. ; clubs: see under clubs; coachmaker's hall, boswell attends a religious robinhood society, iv. , ; compters, the, iii. ; conduit street, boswell lodges there, ii. ; cornhill, iv. , n. ; covent garden, election mob, iv. , n. ; hummums, iii. , n. ; johnson helps the fruiterers, i. ; piazzas infested by robbers, i. , n. ; covent garden theatre, _douglas_, v. , n. ; johnson at an oratorio, ii. , n. ; his prologue to kelly's comedy, iii. ; maddocks the straw-man, iii. ; _she stoops to conquer_ in rehearsal, ii. ; _sir thomas overbury_, iii. , n. ; time of sickness, ii. , n. ; crown and anchor tavern, strand, boswell's supper party, ii. , ; iii. ; boswell and johnson dine there, ii. ; cuper's gardens, v. ; curzon street, lord marchmont's house, iii. ; doctors' commons, i. , n. ; dover street, literary club met at baxter's and le telier's, i. ; downing street, boswell's lodgings, i. ; lord north's residence, ii. ; drury lane theatre, abington's, mrs., benefit, ii. ; _beggar's opera_ refused, iii. , n. ; boswell lows like a cow, v. ; _comus_ acted, i. ; davies's benefit, iii. ; _earl of essex_, iv. , n. ; fleetwood's management, i. , n. ; garrick, opened by, i. ; goldsmith and lord shelburne there, iv. , n. ; _irene_ performed, i. , - , - ; johnson in the green room, i. ; iv. ; management by booth, wilks, and cibber, v. , n. ; duke street, st. james's, no. , mrs. bellamy's lodgings, iv. , n. ; durham yard, johnson mentions it in dating a letter, iii. , n. ; the site of the adelphi, ii. , n. ; east-india house, john hoole one of the clerks, ii. , n. ; essex head, essex street, iv. : see under clubs; exeter-change, iv. , n. ; exeter street, johnson's first lodgings, i. ; iii. , n. ; said to have written there some of the _debates_, i. - ; falcon court, fleet street, boswell and johnson step aside into it, iv. ; farrar's-buildings, boswell lodges there, i. ; fetter lane, johnson lodges there, iii. , n. ; has sudden relief by a good night's rest, iii. , n. ; levett woos his future wife in a coal shed, i. , n. ; fleet-ditch, johnson's voice seems to resound to it, ii. ; fleet prison, broken open in the gordon riots, iii. ; endymion porter's pun on it, v. , n. ; lloyd a prisoner, i. , n. ; oldys a prisoner, i. , n. ; savage lodges in its liberties, i. , n. , , n. ; fleet street, animated appearance, ii. ; compared with tempé and mull, iii. ; boswell meets johnson 'moving along,' iv. ; dangers, its, i. , n. ; goldsmith lodges in a court opening out of it, i. , n. ; greenwich park not equal to it, i. ; johnson's favourite street, ii. ; iii. ; johnson helps a gentlewoman in liquor across it, ii. ; kearsley the bookseller, i. , n. ; langton lodges there during johnson's illness, iv. , n. ; lintott's shop at the cross keys, iv. , n. ; macaulay describes its 'river fog and coal smoke,' iv. , n. ; the museum, iv. ; fox court, brook street, holborn, savage's birthplace, i. , n. ; gerrard street, boswell's lodgings, iii. , n. ; goodman's fields, garrick's first appearance, i. , n. ; gough square, johnson lives there from - (writes the _dictionary, rambler, rasselas_, and part of the _idler_), i. , , n. ; iii. , n. ; described by carlyle, i. , n. ; by dr. burney, i. ; gray's inn, johnson lodges there, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; osborne's bookshop, i. ; great russell street, beauclerk's library, iv. , n. ; gresham college, iii. ; grosvenor square, mr. thrale's house, johnson's room in it, iii. , n. , , n. ; iv. ; mr. thrale dies there, iv. ; grub street, defined, i. ; saluted, ib., n. ; johnson had never been there, ib.; history of it, i. , n. ; 'let us go and eat a beefsteak in grub street,' iv. ; guildhall, beckford's monument, iii. ; its giants, v. , n. ; wilkes on his way to it, iv. , n. ; haberdashers' company, i. , n. ; half-moon street, boswell's lodgings, ii. , n. , ; harley street, johnson dines at allan ramsay's house, no. , iii. , n. ; haymarket theatre, foote and george iii, iv. , n. ; foote's patent, iii. , n. ; gordon riots, open at the, iii. , n. ; _spectator_, mentioned in the, iii. ; hedge lane, johnson visits a man in distress, iii. ; henrietta street, i. , n. ; holborn, boswell starts from it in the newcastle fly, ii. , n. ; johnson twice resides there, iii. , n. ; writes there his _hermit of teneriffe_, i. , n. ; tyburn procession along it, iv. , n. ; hummums, iii. ; hyde park, boswell takes an airing in paoli's coach, ii. , n. ; troops reviewed there at dodd's execution, iii. , n. ; hyde park corner, iii. ; inner temple: see below under temple; ironmonger row, old street, psalmanazar lived there, iii. , ; islington, johnson goes there for change of air, iv. , ; mentioned, iii. , ; ivy lane: see under clubs, ivy lane club; johnson buildings, iii. , n. ; johnson's court, johnson removes to it, ii. ; boswell and beauclerk's veneration for it, ii. , ; 'johnson of that _ilk_,' ib., n. ; iii. , n. ; kennington common, iii. , n. ; kensington, elphinston's academy, ii. , n. ; boswell and johnson dine there, ii. ; kensington palace, dr. clarke and walpole sit up there one night, iii. , n. ; king's bench prison, broken open in the gordon riots, iii. ; lydiat imprisoned, i. , n. ; smart dies in it, i. , n. ; wilkes imprisoned, iii. , n. ; king's bench walk, johnson hears misella's story, i. , n. ; 'persuasion tips his tongue,' &c., ii. , n. ; king's head: see clubs, ivy lane; knightsbridge, v. ; lambeth-marsh, johnson said to have lain concealed there, i. ; lambeth palace, _public_ dinners, iv. , n. ; leicester-fields, reynolds lived there, ii. , n. ; le telier's tavern: see above under dover street; lincoln's inn, warburton appointed preacher, ii. , n. ; little britain, benjamin franklin lodged next door to wilcox's shop, i. , n. ; mentioned by swift, i. , n. ; london bridge, old, account of it, iv. , n. ; booksellers on it, iv. ; _shooting_ it, i. , n. ; lower grosvenor street, iv. ; ludgate prison, dr. hodges dies in it, ii. , n. ; magdalen house, iii. , n. ; mansion-house, boswell dines there, ii. , n. ; marshalsea, broken open at the gordon riots, iii. ; described by wesley, i. , n. ; marylebone-gardens, johnson said to have begun a riot there, iv. ; mile-end green, iii. ; mitre tavern, johnson's resort, i. ; boswell and johnson's first evening there, i. ; johnson, boswell, and goldsmith, i. ; boswell's supper, i. ; boswell and johnson alone on a rainy night, i. ; supper on boswell's return from abroad, ii. ; supper with temple, ii. ; dinners in , ii. , ; dinner with two young methodists, ii. ; farewell dinner with dr. maxwell, ii. ; boswell and johnson, dinner in , ii. ; boswell loses a dinner there, ii. ; boswell and johnson, dinner in , ii. ; boswell, johnson and a scotchman, ii. ; johnson and young col in , ii. ; boswell, johnson and murray in , iii. ; boswell and johnson in , 'hermit hoar' composed, iii. , n. ; boswell's mistake about, ii. , n. ; 'the custom of the mitre' kept up, iii. ; 'we will go again to the mitre,' iv. ; cole, the landlord, v. ; johnson and murphy dine there, i. , n. ; moorfields, john hoole born there, iv. ; mad-houses, ii. ; iv. ; mass-house burnt at the gordon riots, iii. ; new street, fetter lane, strahan's printing office, ii. , n. ; iv. ; new street, strand, johnson dined at the pine apple, i. ; newgate, akerman the keeper, iii. - ; profits of his office, iii. , n. ; baretti imprisoned, ii. , n. ; burnt in the gordon riots, iii. ; cooley imprisoned, i. ; dodd, dr., iii. ; executions removed there, iv. , n. , ; hawkins's story of a man sentenced to death, iii. , n. ; moore, rev. mr., the ordinary, iv. , n. ; villette, rev. mr., the ordinary: see villette; wesley's description of its horrors, iii. , n. ; improvement, ib.; newgate street, iv. ; northumberland-house, dr. percy's apartment burnt, iii. , n. ; next shop to it a pickle-shop, ii. ; old bailey, baretti's trial, ii. ; bet flint's trial, iv. ; savage's, i. , n. ; sessions house plundered in the gordon riots, iii. ; sessions in , iv. , n. (see _old bailey sessions paper_); old bond street, boswell's lodgings, ii. ; old devil tavern, iv. , n. ; old jewry, dr. foster's chapel, iv. , n. ; old street, johnson attends a club there, iii. ; iv. ; old swan, boswell and johnson land there, i. ; opera house, boswell at the performance of _medea_, iii. , n. ; oxford street, the pantheon, ii. - ; pall mall, dodsley's shop, i. , n. ; pall mall, king's head, the world club, iv. , n. ; park lane, warren hastings's house, iv. ; parsloe's tavern: see st. james street; paternoster row, cooper the bookseller, v. , n. ; piccadilly, boswell's lodgings, ii. ; walpole describes a procession, iv. , n. ; poultry, no. , messieurs dilly's house: see under dilly, messieurs; prince's tavern: see sackville street; printing house square, ii. , n. ; pye street, iv. ; queen square, bloomsbury, dr. john campbell's house, i. , n. ; ranelagh, barristers should not go too often, iv. ; _evelina_, described in, ii. , n. ; 'girl, a ranelagh,' iii. , n. ; gordon riots, open at the, iii. , n. ; _highland laddie_, sung there, v. , n. ; johnson's admiration of it, ii. ; his first visit, iii. ; often went, ii. ; riot of footmen, ii. , n. ; thornton's _ode on st. cecilia's day_ performed there, i. , n. ; ranelagh house, ii. , n. ; red lion street, v. , n. ; rotherhithe, iii. , n. ; round-house, garrick 'will have to bail johnson out of it,' i. ; captain booth taken to it, ib., n. ; johnson carried to it, ii. ; royal exchange, jack ellis, the scrivener, iii. ; russell street, covent garden, no. , tom davies's house, where boswell first saw johnson, i. ; sackville street, prince's tavern, the literary club met there, i. ; v. , n. ; slaughter's coffee-house, i. , n. ; iv. ; smithfield, boxing-ring, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; joustes held there, iv. , n. ; snow-hill, mrs. gardiner's shop, i. ; iii. ; iv. ; soho-square, house of the venetian resident, i. ; somerset coffee-house, strand, boswell and johnson start from it for oxford, ii. ; somerset-house, built by sir w. chambers, iv. , n. ; somerset place, exhibition of the royal academy, iv. ; south audley street, general paoli's house, iii. - ; southampton-buildings, chancery-lane, burke and johnson in consultation there, iv. ; southwark elections: see thrale, henry, southwark; kennels running with blood, v. ; thrale's house, ii. , n. , ; johnson's apartment in it, i. ; iii. , n. ; spring garden, afterwards vauxhall, iv. ; st. andrew's, holborn, i. ; st. clement danes, boswell and johnson attend service there, ii. , , ; iii. , , , , ; iv. , , ; hear a sermon on evil-speaking, iii. ; johnson's seat, ii. ; returns thanks after recovery, iv. , n. ; st. george's-fields, meeting place of the 'protestants' at the gordon riots, iii. ; st. george's, hanover square, dodd tries to get the living by a bribe, iii. , n. ; thomas newton resigns the lectureship, iv. , n. ; st. james's palace, lord mayor beckford's address, iii. , n. ; st. james's square, johnson and savage walk round it, i. , n. , ; st. james's street, a new gaming club, iii. , n. ; parsloe's tavern, the literary club meet there, i. ; wirgman's, the toy-shop, iii. ; st. john's gate, clerkenwell, indecent books sold there by cave, i. , n. ; johnson's reverence for it, i. ; his room, i. ; meets boyse there, iv. , n. ; savage's visits, i. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , n. , ; st. luke's hospital, iv. ; st. martin's in the fields, i. ; st. martin's street, dr. burney occupies newton's house, iv. ; st. paul's cathedral, boswell's easter 'going up ': see under boswell, st. paul's; described by an indian king in the _spectator_, i. , n. ; johnson's monument, iv. - , - ; monuments, proposal to raise, ii. ; iv. ; mentioned, iii. ; st. paul's churchyard, innys the bookseller, iv. , n. , ; johnson's old club dines at the queen's arms, iv. , ; rivington's book-shop, i. , n. ; st. sepulchre's churchyard, the bellman on the wall, iv. , n. ; st. sepulchre's ladies' charity-school, iv. ; staple inn, isaac reed's chambers, i. , n. ; iv. ; johnson's chambers, i. , n. , ; iii. , n. ; _rasselas_ not written there, iii. , n. ; stepney, mead's chapel, iii. , n. ; strand, boswell and johnson walk along it one night, i. ; dangers of it, i. , n. ; johnson lodges in it, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iv. : see under somerset coffee house and turk's head coffee house; temple, chambers's, sir robert, chambers in, ii. ; goldsmith's, ii. , n. ; iv. ; johnson's, i. ; iv. ; johnson's walk, i. ; scott's chambers, iii. ; steevens's, iv. ; temple bar, goldsmith's whisper about the heads on it, ii. ; heads first placed on it in william iii's time, iii. , n. ; johnson's voice seems to resound from it to fleet-ditch, ii. ; mentioned, ii. ; iv. , n. ; temple church, johnson attends the service, ii. ; dr. maxwell assistant preacher, ii. ; temple-gate, ii. ; inner temple, boswell enters at it, ii. , n. ; rent of his chambers there, iii. , n. ; middle temple, burke enters there, v. , n. ; middle temple gate, lintott's bookshop, iv. , n. ; temple stairs, boswell and johnson take a sculler there, i. ; land there, ii. ; temple lane, inner, boswell lodges at the bottom of it, i. ; johnson's chambers, iii. , n. ; described by fitzherbert, i. , n. ; by murphy, i. , n. ; boswell pays his first visit to johnson, i. ; mme. de boufflers visits him, ii. ; thames; see thames; tom's coffee-house, iii. ; tower, earl of essex's _roman death_ in it, v. , n, ; mentioned, i. , n. ; tower hill, lord kilmarnock beheaded, v. ; lord lovat, v. ; turk's head coffee-house, strand, boswell and johnson sup there, i. , , , ; talk of visiting the hebrides, i. ; ii. , n. ; turk's head, gerrard street, literary club meet there, i. ; ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; vauxhall gardens, iii. ; iv. , n. ; wapping, boswell and windham _explore_ it, iv. ; warwick lane, i. , n. , , n. ; water lane, goldsmith's tailor, ii. ; westminster, election of , iv. , n. ; election of , iv. , , n. ; scrutiny, iv. , n. ; westminster abbey: cloisters and dean's-yard, dr. taylor's house, i. ; iii. ; goldsmith and johnson survey poets' corner, ii. ; goldsmith's monument, iii. - ; johnson's funeral, iv. ; reynolds on the overcrowding of the monuments, iv. , n. : see under stanley, dean, _memorials of westminster abbey_; westminster hall, iv. ; v. : see under lawyers; westminster police court, henry fielding the magistrate, iii. , n. ; johnson attends it, iii. ; iv. ; westminster school, beckford a pupil, iii. , n. ; boswell's son james a pupil, iii. ; bullying, ib., n. ; group of remarkable boys, i. , n. ; lewis, an usher, iv. ; will's coffee-house, dryden's summer and winter chairs, iii. ; iv. , n. ; wine office court, fleet street, goldsmith's lodgings, i. , n. ; wood street compter, broken open, iii. ; woodstock street, hanover square, johnson lodges there, i. ; iii. , n. . _london, a poem_, account of its publication, i. - ; correspondence with cave, i. - ; price paid for it, i. , , n. ; published by dodsley, i. - ; in may, , i. ; the same day as pope's ' ,' i. ; second edition, i. ; sold at a shilling a copy, ib., n. ; attorneys attacked, ii. , n. ; boileau's and oldham's imitations of the same satire, i. - ; boswell quotes it at greenwich, i. ; composed rapidly, i. , n. ; extracts from it, i. ; oxford, effect produced by it at, i. ; pope's opinion of it, i. , ; quoted, i. , n. , n. ; rhymes, imperfect, i. ; _thales_ and savage, i. , n. . _london chronicle_, goldsmith's 'apology' published in it, ii. ; johnson writes the _introduction_, i. ; takes it in, i. ; ii. ; printed by strahan, iii. ; mentioned, i. , , ; ii. . _london evening debates_, iii. . _london magazine_, boswell's _hypochondriacks_ published in it, iv. , n. ; debates in parliament, i. ; wesley attacks it, v. , n. . _london packet_, ii. , n. . londoners, ii. ; iv. . long, dudley (afterwards north), iv. , , . longinus, i. , n. . longitude, ascertaining the, i. , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; parliamentary reward, i. ; swift and goldsmith refer to it, i. , n. . longlands, mr., a solicitor, ii. . longley, archbishop, iv. , n. . longley, john, recorder of rochester, iv. . longman, messieurs, i. , , n. . lonsdale, first earl of brutality to boswell, ii. , n. ; courted by him, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; a cruel tyrant, v. , n. . 'loplolly,' i. , n. . lord, valuing a man for being one, iii. . lord, scotch, celebrated for drinking, iii. , . lord c., abbreviation for lord chamberlain, iii. , n. . lord ----, no mind of his own, iv. . lord ----, who carried politeness to an excess, iv. . lord's day bill of , iv. , n. . lord's prayer, the, v. . lords, few cheat, iii. . lords, great, and great ladies, iv. . lords, house of. see debates of parliament. lords, ignorance in ancient times, iv. . lords, quoting the authority of, iv. . lort, rev. dr., iv. [transcriber's note: sic], n. . loudoun, countess of, iii. ; v. . loudoun, earl of, iii. ; v. , n. ; 'jumps for joy,' v. ; character by boswell, v. ; by franklin, ib., n. . loughborough, lord (alexander wedderburne, afterwards earl of rosslyn), bute's errand-goer, ii. ; career, i. ; cold affectation of consequence, iv. , n. ; dunning, afraid of, iii. , n. ; foote, associates with, i. ; ii. ; gibbon, congratulated by, iii. , n. ; johnson's pension, i. - ; , ; oratory, i. ; pronunciation, i. ; taught by sheridan, ib.; iii. ; and by macklin, ib.; solicited employment, ii. , n. ; taylor's, dr., law-suit, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . loughborough, the town, iii. . louis, brother, the moravian, iii. , n. . louis philippe, ii. , n. . lovage, ii. . lovat, master of, iii. , n. . lovat, simon, lord, a boast of his, v. ; helped to carry off lady grange, v. , n. ; _lines on his execution_, i. ; monument to his father, v. ; trial and execution, i. , n. ; i. . lovat, thomas, lord, v. . love, effects exaggerated, ii. ; romantic fancy that a man can be in love but once, ii. . love, james, an actor, ii. . _love and madness_, iv. . _love in a hollow tree_, iv. . loveday, john, ii. , n. . loveday, dr. john, ii. , n. . lovelace, in _clarissa_, ii. . lovibond, edward, i. . low company, iv. . low dutch, johnson studies, ii. ; iv. ; resemblance to english, in. ; iv. . low life, v. . lowe, canon, i. , . lowe, charles, _life of prince bismarck_, iv. , n. lowe, mauritius, account of him, iv. , n. ; house in hedge lane, iii. , n. ; johnson's bequest to his children, iv. , n. ; picture refused by the academy, iv. - ; subscription for his daughters, iv. , n. ; sups with johnson, iii. ; visits him, iv. - . lowndes, w. t., _bibl. man_. error about _the world newspaper_, iii. , n. . lowth, robert, bishop of london, _english grammar_, iv. ; _prelections_, v. , n. ; rose by his learning, v. ; warburton, controversy with, ii. ; v. , . lowth, william, iii. . lowther family, v. . lowther, sir james, a rich miser, v. . loyalty of the nation, ii. ; blasted for a time, iv. , n. . loyola, ignatius, i. . luard, rev. dr., iii. , n. . _lucan_, quoted, i. , n. . lucan, first earl of, literary club, member of the, i. ; johnson intimate with him and lady lucan, iii. ; iv. i, n. , ; anecdote of johnson as thrale's executor, iv. . lucas, dr. charles, johnson writes in his defence, i. ; reviews his _essay on waters_, i. , n. , , . lucas, richard, enquiry after happiness, v. . lucas de linda, ii. . _lucian_, iii. , n. ; combabus, story of, iii. , n. ; epicurean and the stoick, pleadings of the, iii. ; francklin's translation, iv. . _lucius florus_, ii. . _lucretius_, quoted, i. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; tasso borrows a simile from him, iii. . _luctus_, ii. . luke, in _the traveller_, ii. . lumisden, andrew, ii. , n. ; v. . lumm, sir francis, ii. , n. . lunardi, 'the flying man in the balloon,' iv. , n. , , n. . _lusiad, the_, johnson's projected translation, iv. . see under mickle. luther, martin, v. . luton, iv. . luton hoe, iv. , . lutterel, colonel, ii. . luxury, dread of it visionary, ii. - ; money better spent on it than in almsgiving, iii. , ; no nation ever hurt by it, ii. - ; produces much good, iii. ; querulous declamations against it, iii. ; every society as luxurious as it can be, iii. ; man not diminished in size by it, v. ; reaches very few, ii. ; wesley attacks its apologists, iii. , n. . _lyce, to_, i. . lydia, v. . lydiat, thomas, i. , n. ; ii. . lye, edward, ii. . lynne regis, i. , . lyons, iii. . lysons ----, of clifford's inn, iv. , n. . lyttelton, george, first lord, boothby, miss, admired, iv. , n. ; boswell's _corsica_, praises, ii. , n. ; caricature, lines on him in a, v. , n. ; character by chesterfield and walpole, i. , n. ; chesterfield, cibber, and johnson, anecdote of, i. ; critical reviewers, thanks the, iv. , , n. ; _debates_, speech in the, ii. , n. ; epitaph on sir j. macdonald, v. ; _dialogues of the dead_, ii. , ; iv. ; goldsmith's _history of england_, supposed to have written, i. , n. ; _history of henry ii_, johnson criticises it to the king, ii. ; thirty years spent on it, iii. ; punctuation, ib.; kept back for fear of smollett, iii. ; its whiggism, ii. ; hume's scotticisms, ii. , n. ; johnson, _life_ by, iv. - ; attacks on it, iv. ; johnson's unfriendliness, iv. ; montague, mrs., friendship with, iv. ; _persian letters_, i- , n. ; 'respectable hottentot,' i. , n. ; smollett, attacked by, iii. , n. ; thomson's 'loathing to write,' iii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. , , n. . lyttelton, thomas, second lord, character, his, iv. , n. ; timidity, v. ; vision, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . lyttelton, sir edward, v. . m. macallan, eupham (euphan m'cullan), v. . macartney, earl of, boswell's life of johnson, praises, i. ; campbell, dr. john, account of, i. , n. iii. , n. ; embassy to china, i. , n. , , n. ; hindoos, describes a peculiarity of the, iv. , n. ; johnson and lady craven, anecdote, iii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; mentioned, i. ; iii. , n. , . macaulay, dr., a physician, husband of mrs. macaulay the historian, i. , n. ; iii. . macaulay, mrs. catherine, the historian, boswell wishes to pit her against johnson, iii. ; johnson and her footman, i. ; iii. ; had not read her _history_, iii. , n. ; 'match' with her, ii. ; political and moral principles, wonders at, ii. ; toast, i. ; maiden name and marriage, i. , n. ; 'reddening her cheeks,' iii. ; ridiculous, making her, ii. ; shakespeare's plays and her daughter, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . macaulay, dr. james, _bibliography of rasselas_, ii. , n. . macaulay, rev. john, lord macaulay's grandfather, v. , n. , , n. ; a man of good sense, v. ; on principles and practice, v. . macaulay, rev. kenneth (lord macaulay's great-uncle), colds caught at st. kilda, on, ii. , ; v. ; _history of st. kilda_, ii. ; johnson visits him, v. ; disbelieves his having written the _history_, v. ; calls him 'a bigot to laxness,' v. ; praises his magnanimity, ii. , ; v. . macaulay, mrs. kenneth, johnson offers to get a servitorship for her son, ii, ; v. ; mentioned, v. . macaulay, thomas babington (lord macaulay), ancestors, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; _addison, essay on_, iv. , n. ; _anfractuosity_, iv. , n. ; bentley and boyle, v. , n. ; 'brilliant flashes of silence,' v. , n. ; boswell as a biographer, i. , n. ; burke's first speech, ii. , n. ; campbell's, dr., _diary_, ii. , n. ; chesterfield, earl of, eminence of the, ii. , n. ; crisp, mr., account of, iv. , n. ; croker's 'blunders,' ii. , n. ; criticism on _ad lauram epigramma_, i. , n. ; greek, v. , n. ; latin, iv. , n. ; and the marquis of montrose, v. , n. ; and _prince titi_, ii. , n. ; feeling and dining, on, ii. , n. ; gibbon's reported mahometanism, ii. , n. ; hastings's answer to johnson's letter, iv. , n. ; hastings and the study of persian, iv. , n. ; house of ormond, i. , n. ; imagination, described, iii. ; johnson's blank verse, iv. , n. ; and boswell on the non-jurors, iv. , n. , , n. ; _called_, iv. , n. ; and _cecilia_, iv. , n. , , n. ; contempt of histories, iv. , n. ; etymologies, i. , n. ; and horne tooke, i. , n. ; household, i. ; ill-fed roast mutton, iv. , n. ; knowledge of the science of human nature, iii. ; of london and the country, ib.; talk and style of writing, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; translation of his own sayings, iv. , n. ; on travelling, appendix b, iii. - ; _king's evil_, i. , n. ; literary club, i. , n. ; mattaire's use of _carteret_ as a dactyl, iv. ; pitt's peerages, iv. , n. ; treatment of johnson and gibbon, iv. , n. ; prendergrass, ii. , n. ; richardson's novels, ii. , n. ; thrale's, mrs., second marriage, iii. , n. ; warburton, the, of our age, ii. , n. ; william iii and dodwell, v. , n. ; window tax, v. , n. . macauley, dr. (cock lane ghost), (probably dr. macaulay, the husband of mrs. macaulay the historian), i. , n. . macbean, alexander, johnson's amanuensis, account of him, i. ; _calling_, on, iv. ; charterhouse, brother of the, i. ; iii. - ; death, iii. l, n. ; stood as a screen between johnson and death, ib.; johnson's _preface_ to his _geography_, i. ; ii. ; learning, a man of great, iii. ; starving, ii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , ; iii. . macbean, the younger, i. . _macbeth, miscellaneous observations on_, i. . for _macbeth_, see under shakespeare. _maccabees_, johnson looks into the, ii. , n. . _maccaroni_, a, v. . maccaronic verses, iii. . macclesfield, v. . macclesfield, charles gerard, earl of, bill of divorce, i. , n. . macclesfield, countess of, account of her, i. , n. ; divorced, i. ; marries colonel brett, i. , n. ; savage's reputed mother, i. , n. ; evidence of his story examined, i. - ; reproached at bath, i. , n. . macclesfield, thomas parker, first earl of, i. . macclesfield, george parker, second earl of, i. , n. . macconochie--, a scotch advocate, iii. . maccruslick, v. , n. . macdonald, clan of, ii. , . macdonald, sir alexander, of slate (father of sir james and sir alexander macdonald), v. , , . macdonald, sir alexander, first lord macdonald, arms rusty, his, v. , ; boswell and johnson try to rouse him, v. - ; feudal system, attacks the, ii. ; flees from his tenants, v. , n. ; johnson, introduced to, ii. ; invites him to visit him, v. ; inhospitality, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; 'a very penurious gentleman,' v. , ; anecdotes of his penuriousness, v. - ; passages suppressed by boswell, v. , n. , , n. ; landlord, an oppressive, v. , ; latin verses, his bad, v. ; sugar-tongs in his house, absence of, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. , , , n. ; v. . macdonald, lady, wife of the first lord macdonald, ii. , n. ; v. . macdonald, alexander, of kingsburgh (old kingsburgh), his annuity, v. - ; helps the pretender, v. - ; examined, v. - ; mentioned, v. - . macdonald of kingsburgh, the younger, account of him, v. ; emigrates, v. ; mentioned, v. - . macdonald, old mrs. of kingsburgh, v. . macdonald, archibald, m.p., v. , n. . macdonald of clanranold, v. . macdonald, sir donald, v. . macdonald, donald, v. . macdonald, donald (donald roy), v. - . macdonald, flora, wife of macdonald of kingsburgh, account of her adventures, v. - , , ; courtenay's _poetical review_, mentioned in, ii. ; emigrates, v. , n. ; courage on board ship, ib.; health drunk on jan. , iii. ; johnson visits her, v. , ; primrose, lady, rewards her, v. , n. ; virulent jacobite in her old age, v. , n. . macdonald, hugh, v. . macdonald, sir james, account of him, i. ; death, v. , n. ; deeply regretted, v. ; english education, v. ; epitaph, v. ; generosity, v. ; johnson, terror of, i. ; letters to his mother, v. , n. ; marcellus of scotland, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; rasay has his sword, v. ; mentioned, v. , . macdonald, james, a factor, johnson visits him, v. - . macdonald, james, of knockow, v. . macdonald, lady margaret, widow of sir a. macdonald of slate, adored in sky, iii. ; v. ; befriends the pretender, v. ; raises a monument to her son, v. . macdonald, ranald, ii. . macdonald of scothouse, v. . macdonald of sky, league with rasay, v. . macfarlane, the laird of, the antiquary, v. , n. . macfriar, donald, v. - . m'ghie, dr. william, i. , n. . m'ginnises, the, v. . mackenzie,--, of applecross, v. . mackenzie, sir george, _characteres advocatorum_, v. - ; dryden describes him as 'that noble wit of scotland', iv. , n. . mackenzie, henry, _man of feeling_, i. ; _man of the world_, i. , n. ; v. ; _mirror, the_, iv. , n. ; poker club, ii. , n. ; wedderburne's club, iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n, . mackenzie, john, v. - . mackenzie,--, stories of second sight, v. . mackinnon, of corrichatachin, v. ; boswell calls him _corri_, v. ; johnson visits him, v. - , - . mackinnon, john, v. - . mackinnon, lady, v. . mackinnon, laird of, v. , , - . mackinnon, mrs., v. - , , . mackintosh, sir james, aberdeen, his fellow-students at, v. , n. ; study of greek there, v. , n. ; birth-place, v. , n. ; burke on boswell's _life_ as a monument to johnson's fame, i. , n. ; and gibbon, ii. , n. ; on johnson's talk, iv. , n. ; as a metaphysician, i. , n. ; dunbar, dr., iii. , n. ; fox's character, iv. , n. ; election to the literary club, ii. , n. ; gray's and walpole's style, iii. , n. ; johnson, groundless charge against, v. , n. ; idea of a ship, v. , n. ; withheld from metaphysics, v. , n. ; leading life over again, on, iv. , n. ; macdonald, sir james, v. , n. ; priestley, dr., iv. ; temple's style, iii. , n. ; torture, late use of, i. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. ; , n. . macklin, charles, _life_ by w. cooke, iv. ; _man of the world_, v. , n. ; taught wedderburne, iii. . maclaurin, professor colin, epitaphs, his, v. - ; goldsmith's anecdote of his yawning, iii. ; tries to fortify edinburgh, v. , n. . maclaurin, john (afterwards lord dreghorn), argument for knight, a negro, iii. ; motto for it from virgil, iii. , n. , ; plea read by johnson, iii. , , , ; epitaphs on his father, his, v. ; goldsmith's story of his father, uneasy at, iii. ; johnson, introduced to, v. ; style, caricatures, ii. ; 'made dish,' his, i. ; v. , n. . maclean, alexander, laird of col. see col, the old laird of. maclean, dr. alexander, a physician of tobermorie, johnson visits him, v. - ; wrote _the history of the macleans_, v. ; mentioned, v. , . maclean, dr. alexander, another physician of mull, v. . maclean, sir allan, chief of the macleans, v. ; johnson visits him, v. - ; his house, v. , n. , ; sunday evening, v. ; accompanies johnson, v. - ; in iona, v. ; asserts the rights of a chieftain, v. ; brags of scotland, v. ; visits lochbury, v. - ; lawsuit, his, ii. , n. ; iii. , , , , - ; hates writers to the signet, v. , n. . maclean, captain lauchlan, v. - , , . maclean, clan of, ii. . macleans of col, story of the, v. , n. . maclean, donald, young laird of col. see col, laird of. maclean, donald, of col, father of the old laird, v. . maclean of corneck, v. , , , . maclean, sir hector, v. , . maclean, rev. hector, v. - , . maclean, sir john, v. . maclean, john, a bard, v. . maclean of lochbuy. see lochbuy, laird of. maclean, miss, of inchkenneth, v. . maclean, miss, of tobermorie, v. , i . maclean of muck, v. . maclean, nephew to maclean of muck, v. . maclean of torloisk, ii. . _macleans, history of the_, v. . macleod of bay, v. . macleod, captain, of balmenoch, v. . macleod, clan of, two branches, v. ; question as to the chieftainship, ib., v. . macleod, colonel, of talisker, account of him, v. , ; johnson visits him, v. - ; mentioned, v. , , l , l , l, . macleod, dr., of rasay, wounded at culloden, v. , ; receives a present from the pretender, v. ; mentioned, v. , , , , . macleod, donald (late of canna), v. , , . macleod of ferneley, v. . macleod, flora, of rasay, her beauty, v. ; married, iii. , ; visits boswell, v. . macleod of hamer, v. . macleod, john _breck_, v. - . macleod, john, of rasay. see rasay. macleod, laird of, account of him, v. ; as a chief, v. , , , ; estates, v. ; fisheries, v. ; johnson visits him, v. , ; is offered island isa, v. ; takes leave of him, v. ; writes to him, v. , n. ; mentioned, v. , , , , , , . macleod, old laird of, v. , . macleod, lady (widow of the old laird), johnson, welcomes, v. - , , n. ; argues on principles and practice, v. ; on natural goodness, v. ; on removing the family seat, v. ; mentioned, v. . macleod of lewis, v. . macleod, magnus, v. . macleod, malcolm, account of him, v. - , , ; befriends the pretender, v. - ; arrested, v. - ; tells a legend, v. ; mentioned, iii. ; v. , . macleod, rev. neal, v. , . macleod, sir normand, v. . macleod, professor, of aberdeen, v. , , . macleod, sir roderick (rorie more), his cascade, v. , , ; bed, v. ; horn, v. , ; mentioned, v. . macleod, roderick, v. . macleod, sandie, v. ; known as m'cruslick, v. , , . macleod, mrs., of talisker, v. . macleod, ----, of ulinish, account of him, v. ; mentioned, v. , , , . maclonich, clan of, v. , n. . maclure, captain, v. . macmartins, v. . macneil of barra, v. , n. . m'neill, p. _tranent and its surroundings_, iii. , n. . m'nicol, rev. donald, ii. , n. . macpherson, james, account of his person and character by dr. carlyle, ii. , n. ; by hume, ii. , n. ; buried in westminster abbey, ii. , n. ; _fragments of ancient poetry_, ii. , n. ; homer, translation of, ii. ; iii. , n. ; 'impudent fellow,' i. ; newspapers, 'supervised' the, ii. , n. ; ossian, ii. , n. , ; criticisms, &c. on it: 'abandoning one's mind to write such stuff,' iv. ; 'writing in that style,' v. ; concocted, how, v. ; cuchullin's car and sword, v. ; giants of patagonia, on a par with the, v. ; gross imposition, v. ; highlander, testimony of a, iii. ; manuscripts, no, ii. , , , , , , ; johnson's attack, macpherson furious at, ii. ; tries intimidation, ii. ; writes to him, ii. ; answer, ii. , n. , ; rejoinder to clark, iv. ; opinions of _ossian_ formed by blair, i. ; ii. , , n. ; v. ; boswell, ii. , ; v. , n. , ; carlyle, dr. a., ii. , n. ; dundas, president, ib.; dempster, ii. ; v. ; elibank, lord, v. ; gibbon, ii. , n. ; hume, ii. , n. ; macqueen, rev. d., v. , , ; oughton, sir a., v. ; scott, sir walter, v. , n. ; shaw, rev. w., pamphlet by, iv. ; answer by clark, ib.; smith, adam, ii. , n. ; smollett, ii. , n. ; national pride concerned, iv. ; v. , n. ; 'originals' of _fingal_, ii. - ; iii. ; v. , , ; public interest at an end ( ), v. ; rhapsody, a, ii. ; wolf not mentioned, ii. ; pension, ii. , n. ; _remarks on johnson's journey_, ii. , n. ; subscription raised for him, ii. . macpherson, dr. john, _dissertations_, v. , : latin verse, v. ; mentioned, v. . macpherson, rev. martin, v. , , . macpherson, miss, of slate, v. . macquarry of ormaig, iii. . macquarry, or macquarrie, or macquharrie, of ulva, in debt, iii. , ; estates sold, iii. - , ; ill-judged hospitality, v. , n. ; johnson visits him, v. - ; mentioned, ii. . macqueen of anoch, v. - , . macqueen, rev. donald, aborigines, discovers a house of the, v. ; anaitis, a temple of, v. - , ; boswell, letter to, v. ; edinburgh, visits, ii. ; emigration, on, v. ; erse writings, ii. - , ; johnson's regard for him, v. , , ; learned man, a, v. , ; _ossian_, v. , , - ; second-sight, v. , ; sky, projects a book on, v. ; witchcraft, v. ; mentioned, v. , , , , , , , , , , , . m'craas, clan of the, v. - , . m'crails, v. . macray, rev. w. d., _annals of the bodleian_, iv. , n. . macrobius, quoted by johnson, i. ; saying of julia, iii. . macsweyn, mr. and mrs., v. , . macsweyn, hugh, v. . mac swinny, owen, recollections of dryden, iii. ; pun on the cambrick bill, iii. , n, . _mad tom_, iii. . madan, rev. martin, _thoughts on executive justice_, iv. , n. . madden, rev. dr. samuel, johnson castigates his _boulter's monument_, i. ; orchards, on, iv. ; premium scheme, his, i. ; whig, a great, ii. . maddocks, ----, the strawman, iii. , n. . madness, caused by indulgence of imagination, iv. ; employment best suited for it, iv. , n. ; evil spirits, people possessed with, iii. , n. ; gaubius defines it, i. ; infamous persons supposed mad, iii. , n. ; johnson describes it in _rasselas_, i. ; dreads it, i. ; is 'mad, at least not sober,' i. ; v. ; madmen love to be with those whom they fear, iii. ; seek for pain, ib.; melancholy, confounded with, iii. ; relief from it in the bottle, i. , n. ; smart's prayers, shown by, i. ; iv. , n. ; turned upside down, iii. ; undiscovered, iv. . madrid, v. , n. . maecenas, iii. , n. . _mag. extraordinary_, i. . magazines, goldsmith describes their origin, v. , n. . magicians, italian, iii. . magistrate, anecdote of a dull country one, iv. ; fear to call out the guards, iii. ; how far they should tolerate false doctrine, ii. - ; salaries of the westminster justices, iii. , n. . _mahogany_, a drink, iv. . mahogany wood, iv. . mahomet, ii. . mahometan world, iv. . mahometans, ii. , . maid of honour, flattery by a, iii. . maidstone, iv. , n. . maine, sir henry, _borough english_, v. , n. . maintenon, mme. de, iv. , n. . maitland, mr., one of johnson's amanuenses, i. . maittaire, m., _senilia_, iv. ; makes carteret a dactyl, iv. . major, john, _de gestis scotorum_, v. . majority, distinguished from superiority, ii. . _make money_, iii. . malagrida, iv. . malcolm iii, v. , n. . male succession. see succession. malet du pan, ii. , n. . mallet, david, _alias_ malloch, ii. , n. ; iv. ; _alfred_, v. , n. ; _bacon, life of_, iii. ; bolingbroke's _works_, edits, i. ; byng, writes against, ii. ; _critical review_, writes in the, i. , n. ; _elvira_, i. ; garrick, fools, v. , n. ; gibbon _domesticated_ with him, i. , n. ; hume's scotticisms, ii. , n. ; job, ready for any dirty, ii. ; johnson criticises his dramas, i. , n. ; and his works, ii. , n. ; draws his character, i. ; ii. , n. ; _dictionary_, in, iv. ; literary reputation, his, kept alive as long as he, ii. ; macgregor, by origin a, v. , n. ; malloch, published under the name of, iv. ; _margaret's ghost_, iv. , n. ; _marlborough, life of_, undertakes the, iii. ; never begins it, iii. ; receives money for it, v. , n. ; _pope's essay on man_, iii. ; 'prettiest drest puppet,' v. ; scotch accent, never caught in a, ii. ; only scot whom scotchmen did not commend, ib., n. ; warburton, attacks, i. . mallet, mrs., hume and the deists, ii. , n. . mallet, p.h., _histoire de danemarck_, iii. , n. . malmesbury, first earl of, ii. , n. . malone, edmond, accuracy and justice, his love of, iv. ; addison's loan to steele, iv. ; baretti's infidelity, ii. , n. ; boswell, becomes acquainted with, v. , n. ; dedicates to him the _tour to the hebrides_, ii. , n. ; v. ; note added to it by him, iii. , n. ; executor, iii. , n. ; ignorance of law, ii. , n. ; _life of johnson_, revises, i. ; edits later editions, i. , n. , ; time, by his hospitality wastes, i. , n. ; chatterton's poems, demonstrates the imposture in, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; courtenay's _poetical review_, mentioned in, i. ; death, i. , n. ; flood's lines on johnson, iv. , n. ; garrick's election to the club, i. , n. ; goldsmith's college days, i. ; gray's _odes_, i. , n. ; hawkins, describes, i. , n. ; hawkesworth's death, v. , n. ; hospitality, elegant, iv. ; johnson's bargain with the booksellers, iii. , n. ; conversation, iv. , n. ; epitaph, iv. ; interpretation of two passages in _hamlet_, iii. n. ; letters to him, iv. ; 'seldom started a subject,' iii. , n. ; severe sayings, iv. ; solitary, finds, iv. , n. ; tribute to, i. , n. ; iv. ; witticism, fathers on foote, ii. , n. ; _johnsonianissimus_, i. , n. ; literary club, a member of the, i. ; iv. ; milton's imagination of cheerful sensations, iv. , n. ; 'one of the best critics of our age,' i. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. , , n. ; parnell's _hermit_, explains a passage in, iii. , n. ; piozzi's, mrs., _anecdotes_, criticises, iv. ; _prologue to julia_, i. , n. ; reynolds's executor, iv. ; reynolds's plan for monuments in st. paul's, iv. , n. ; shakespeare, edits, i. ; iv. ; v. ; walpole's, sir r., reading, v. , n. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. , . malpas, iv. , n. . malplaquet, battle of, ii. , n. . maltby, mr., i. , n. ; iii. , n. . malte, chevalier de, story of a, v. . malton, an inn-keeper, iii. . mamhead, i. , n. ; ii. . man, composite animal, iv. ; defined, iii. ; v. , n. ; not a machine, v. ; not good by nature, v. ; pourtrayed by shakespeare and milton, iv. . see mankind. _man of feeling_, i. . _man of the world_, i. , n. ; v. . _managed_ horse, v. , n. . managers of theatres, i. , n. . manchester, iii. , , , n. ; whitaker's _history_, iii. . mandeville, bernard, johnson influenced by him, iii. , n. , , n. ; 'private vices public benefits,' iii. , n. , - ; mentioned, i. , n. . mandoa, ii. . _manège_ for oxford, ii. . manilla ransom, ii. . mankind, burke thinks better of them, iii. ; johnson finds them less just and more beneficent, ib.; opinions of bolingbroke, oxford, and pitt, ib., n. ; of savage, iii. , n. l; characterless for the most part, iii. , n. ; hostility one to the other, iii. , n. ; kindness, wonderful, iii. , , n. . see man and world. manley, mrs., iv. , , n. . mann, sir horace, i. , n. . manners, change in them, v. - , ; elegance acquired imperceptibly, iii. ; great, of the, iii. ; history of them, v. ; words describing them soon require notes, ii. . _manners_, a poem, i. . manning, owen, ii. . manning, mr., a compositor, iv. . manningham, dr., iii. . manor, a, co-extensive with the parish, ii. . mansfield, william murray, first earl of, adams the architects, patronises, ii. , n. ; air and manner, ii. ; americans, approves of burning the houses of the, iii. , n. ; baretti's trial, ii. , n. ; believing _half_ of what a man says, iv. ; carre's _sermons_, praises, v. ; confined to his court, iii. ; copy-right case, judgment in the, i. , n. ; douglas cause, ii. , n. , ; educated in england, ii. ; horne tooke's trial, iii. , n. ; garrick, flatters, ii. ; generals and admirals, compared with, iii. ; gordon riots, his house burnt in the, iii. - ; gordon's, lord george, trial, iii. , n. ; johnson's definition of excise, i. , n. ; estimate of his intellectual power, iv. , n. ; greatest man next to him, ii. ; v. ; _journey_, praises, ii. ; never met him, ii. ; lawyer, a great english, v. ; not a mere lawyer, ii. ; liberty of the press, tries to stifle the, i. , n. ; literary fame, no, iii. ; oxford, entrance at, ii. , n. ; pope, friend of, ii. ; iv. ; pope's lines to him, parodied by browne, ii. , n. ; popular party, hates the, iii. , n. ; retirement, in, iv. , n. ; royal marriage act, drew the, ii. , n. ; satires on dead kings, iii. . n. ; scotch schoolmaster's case, ii. ; severity, loved, iii. , n. ; shebbeare, sentences, iii. , n. . somerset the negro, case of, iii. ; speech on the_ habeas corpus bill_, iii. , n. ; at lord lovat's trial, i. , n. ; _stuart's letters to lord mansfield_, ii. , ; sunday levees, ii. ; untruthfulness, ii. , n. ; warburton, gets promotion for, ii. , n. . mant, mr., i. , n. . _mantuanus, johannes baptista_, iv. . manucci, count, ii. , ; iii. , . manufacturers, defined, ii. , n. ; their wages, v. . manyfold river, iii. . maphaeus, iii. , n. . mar, earl of, v. , n. . marana, i. p., iv. , n. . marathon, iii. , n. , ; v. . _marc de peau forte_, ii. . marchi, ----, an engraver, iv. , n. . marchmont, hugh, fourth earl of, boswell calls on him, iii. ; talks of johnson's definitions, iii. ; gets particulars of pope and bolingbroke, iii. , ; johnson refuses to see him, iii. ; sends him the _lives_, iii. ; calls on him, ib.; shows inattention, iv. ; pope's executor, iv. ; mentioned in pope's _grotto_, ib.; scotch accent, his, ii. . marcus antoninus, iii. . margate, iv. , n. . _mariamne_, i. , n. . marie antoinette, seen by johnson, ii. , - . marischal, lord, v. , n. . markham, archbishop of york, johnson's bow, iv. , n. ; sermon on parties, v. , n. . markham, dr., iii. . markland, jeremiah, account of him, iv. , n. ; referred to, iv. , n. . marlay, dean richard, afterwards bishop of waterford, deanery of ferns, iv. ; humour, his, iv. , n. ; johnson turned from a wolf-dog into a lap-dog, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; mentioned, iv. . marlborough, john, first duke of, bolingbroke's allusion to him, v. , n. ; calm temper, his, i. ; epigram on him, ii. ; hypothetical appearance to him of the devil, iv. , n. ; mallet's projected _life_, iii. , ; v. , n. ; officers, his, useless, v. ; oldfield, dr., anecdote of, iii. ; mentioned, ii. . marlborough, sarah, duchess of, addison's dedication to her, v. , n. ; _apology_, i. ; v. ; censured by johnson, i. , , n. ; johnson's character of her, v. ; _love in a hollow tree_, reprints, iv. ; her will, v. , n. . marlborough, charles, second duke of, ii. , n. . marlborough, george, third duke of, v. , . _marmor norfolciense_, i. ; reprinted, i. ; praised by pope, i. . marriage, advice about it, ii. , n. , ; fortune, with women of, iii. ; inferiors in rank, with, ii. ; late in life, ii. ; lord chancellor, might be made by the, ii. ; love, for, iii. ; natural to man, not, ii. ; necessary for a man more than a woman, ii. ; reasons for marrying, ib.; parents' control over a daughter's inclination, iii. ; pretty woman, with a, iv. ; prudence, but inclination, not from, ii. ; prudent and virtuous most desirable, i. ; second time, for a, ii. , , ; service, ii. ; society a party to the contract, iii. ; widow, marrying a, ii. . marriage bill, royal, ii. , , n. . marseilles, i. , n. . marshall, w.h., _minutes of agriculture_, iii. . marsili, dr., i. , . martial, elphinston's translation, iii. ; johnson's fondness for him, i. , n. ; lines translated by f. lewis, i. , n. ; quoted, v. , n. . martin, m., _western isles_, johnson read it when a child, i ; iii. ; v. ; copy in the advocates' library, v. , n. ; quoted, v. , , , , n. ; style bad, iii. ; _voyage to st. kilda_, ii. , n. , , n. . martine, george, v. . martinelli, signor, anecdote of charles townshend, ii. ; writes a _history of england_, ii. ; it should not be continued to the present day, ii. . martins, printers of edinburgh, iii. . _martinus scriblerus_, imitators of shakespeare ridiculed, ii. , n. . see under arbuthnot. martyrdom, ii. . _martyrdom of theodora_, i. . mary magdalen, iv. . mary, queen of scots, buchanan's verses to her, i. ; holyrood house, v. ; inch keith, v. - ; inscription for her picture, ii. , , , , n. ; johnson reproaches the scotch with her death, v. ; tytler's _vindication_, i. ; ii. . mary ii, queen, johnson attacks her, i. , n. ; mentions her in his definition of _revolution_, i. n. . masenius, i. . mason, rev. william, akenside, inferior to, iii. ; _caractacus_, ii. ; colman's _odes to obscurity_, ridiculed in, ii. ; 'cool mason,' ii. ; _elfrida_, ii. ; goldsmith speaks of his 'formal school,' i. , n. ; gray's _ode on vicissitude_, adds to, iv. , n. ; v. ; _heroick epistle_, ascribed to walpole, iv. ; chambers's _dissertation on oriental gardening_ ridiculed in it, iv. , n. ; v. ; goldsmith reads it to johnson, iv. ; quotations from it, 'here, too, o king of vengeance,' &c., v. ; 'so when some john,' &c., iii. , n. ; 'who breathe the sweets,' &c., iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; johnson's works, did not taste, ii. ; _memoirs of gray_, boswell's model in his _life of johnson_, i. ; its excellence shown, i. , n. ; johnson 'found it mighty dull,' iii. ; praises gray's letters, ib., n. ; temple's character of gray adopted in it, ii. ; _memoirs of w. whitehead_, i. ; murray, the bookseller, prosecutes, iii. ; prig and whig, a, iii. ; sherlock, rev. martin, mentions the, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . mason, mrs. (afterwards lady macclesfield and mrs. brett). see under macclesfield, countess of. masquerades, ii. . mass, idolatry of the, ii. . mass-house, iii. , n. . masses for the dead, ii. . massillon, v. , . massinger, philip, _the picture_, iii. . massingham, iv. . masters, mrs., i. ; iv. . materialism, ii. . mathematics, all men equally capable of attaining them, ii. ; goldsmith's low opinion of them, i, , n. . mathias, mr., iv. . matlock, v. . _matrimonial thought_, a, ii. . matter, non-existence of, i. . matthew paris, iv. , n. . maty, dr. matthew, _bibliotheque britannique_, i. ; johnson's _dictionary_, reviews, i. , n. ; 'little black dog,' i. ; _memoirs of chesterfield_, iv. , n. . maupertuis, ii. . maurice, rev. f. d., ii. , n. . maurice, thomas, _poems and miscellaneous pieces_, iii. , n. . mawbey, sir joseph, iii. , n. . maxwell, rev. dr., _collectanea_ of johnson, ii. - . mayo, rev. dr., dines at mr. dilly's in , ii. - ; in , iii. - ; in , iv. ; freedom of the will, on the, iii. ; liberty of conscience, ii. - ; 'literary anvil,' called the, ii. , n. . mayo, mrs., sutile pictures, her, iii. , n. . mayor, professor j.e.b., iv. , n. . mayors of london, election, iii. , . mead, dr., account of him, iii. , n. ; johnson writes dr. james's dedication to him, i. ; lived in the broad sunshine of life, iii. ; on the needful quantity of sleep, iii. . meals, regular, iii. . _medea_, at the opera-house, iii. , n. . medicated baths, ii. . medicine, medical knowledge from abroad, i. . see under johnson, physic. _meditation on a pudding_, v. . mediterranean, the, grand object of travelling, iii. , ; subject for a poem, iii. . meeke, rev. mr., i. , . melancholy, acuteness not a proof of, iii. ; constitutional, v. ; foolish to indulge it, iii. ; madness, allied to, iii. ; remedies against it, 'be not solitary, be not idle,' iii. ; employment and hardships, iii. , , ; exercise, i. , ; hidden, should be, iii. , ; moderation in eating and drinking, i. ; iii. ; occupation of the mind and society, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; thinking it down madness, ii. ; retreats for the mind, as many as possible, ib.; some men free from it, iii. . see boswell, hypochondria, and johnson, melancholy. melanchthon, boswell's letter from his tomb, ii. , n. ; iii. , , n. ; punctuality, his, i. ; 'the old religion,' ii. ; iii. , n. . melchisedec, an authority on the law of entail, ii. , n. ; warburton's reply to lowth's version of his story, v. . melmoth, william (pliny), at bath, iii. ; belief in a particular providence, iv. , n. ; _fitzosborne's letters_, iii. ; reduced to whistle, ib. melting-days, ii. . melville, viscount. see under dundas, henry. memis, dr., a litigious physician, ii. , ; iii. , ; johnson's argument in his case, ii. . _memoirs of frederick iii_ [_ii_], _king of prussia_, i. . _memoirs of miss sydney biddulph_, i. , n. , . _memoirs of scriblerus_. see arbuthnot. _memorials of westminster abbey_. see stanley, dean. memory, art of attention, iv. , n. ; failure of it, iii. ; morbid oblivion, v. ; remembering and recollecting distinguished, iv. ; scenes improve by it, v. ; tricks played by it, v. . see under johnson, memory. men, have the upper hand of women, iii. . see mankind. mÉnage, gilles, bayle's character of him, iv. , n. ; _menagiana_, epigram on the molinists and the jansenists, iii. , n. ; puns on _corps_ and _fort_, ii. ; queen of france and the hour, iii. , n. . menander, quoted, iii. , n. . mental diseases. see melancholy. menzies, mr., of culdares, v. . merchants, addison's sir andrew freeport, v. ; chatham praises fair merchants, v. , n. ; compared with scotch landlords, i. ; munificence in spending, iv. ; 'a new species of gentleman,' i. , n. . _mercheta mulierum_, v. . mercier, l.s., ii. , n. . merit, weighed against money, i. - ; men of merit, iv. . merriment, scheme of it hopeless, i. , n. . _.messiah_, johnson's latin version of pope's, i. . metaphors, their excellence, iii. ; inaccuracy, iv. , n. . _metaphysical_ defined, ii. , n. . metaphysical poets, iv. . metaphysical tailor, a, iii. ; iv. . metaphysics, burke's inaptitude for them, i. , n. ; johnson fond of them, i. ; withheld from studying them, v. , n. . metastasio, iii. , n. . metcalfe, philip, described by miss burney, iv. , n. ; johnson's charity, anecdote of, iv. ; with him at brighton, ii. , n. ; iv. - ; reynolds's executor, iv. , n. ; round-robin, signs the, iii. , n. . method, life to be thrown into a, iii. . methodists, bitterness, their, v. ; cannot explain their excellence, v. ; cock lane ghost, adopt the, i. , n. ; convicts, effects on, iv. ; dodd's _address_, offended by, iii. ; johnson consulted by two young women, ii. ; _humphry clinker_, mentioned in, ii. , n. ; _hypocrite, the_, ii. ; inward light, ii. ; moravians, quarrel with the, iii. , n. ; origin of the name, i. , n. ; oxford, expulsion of six from, ii. ; rise of the sect, i. , n. ; sincere, how far, ii. ; success in preaching, i. ; ii. ; v. - ; term of reproach, i. , n. ; wales, in, v. . metternich, prince, iv. , n. . meyer, dr., ii. , n. . meynell, 'old,' johnson intimate with his family, i. ; saying about foreigners, i. , n. ; iv. ; about london, iii. . meynell, miss (mrs. fitzherbert), i. . mickle, william julius, account of him, ii. , n. ; boswell and johnson dine with him at wheatley, iv. ; _cumnor hall_ and sir walter scott, v. , n. ; garrick, quarrel with, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; johnson, never had a rough word from, iv. ; _lusiad, the_, ii. ; dispute with johnson about it, iv. ; mentioned, iii. . microscopes, ii. . micyllus, v. . middle ages, iv. , . middle class, absence of it abroad, ii. , n. ; in france, ii. , ; in scotland, ib., n. ; happy in england, ii. . middle state after death, i. ; ii. ; v. . middlesex, earl of, i. . middlesex, under-sheriff and dr. shebbeare, iii. , n. . middlesex election, boswell's difference with johnson, iii. ; johnson's discussion with lord newhaven, iii. ; _false alarm_, i. ; ii. ; _patriot_, ii. ; petitions, ii. ; townshend refuses to pay the land-tax, iii. . middleton, lady diana, v. , n. . middlewich, v. . midgeley, dr., iv. . migration of birds, ii. , . military character and life. see soldiers. _military dictionary_, i. . military spirit, injured by trade, ii. . militia bill of , i. , n. ; , n. ; ii. , n. ; act of , iii. , n. ; for scotch militia bill: see under scotland; drillings in , iii. , , n. ; scotch officers of militia, iii. , n. . 'milking the bull,' i. . mill, james, birth, v. , n. ; in the east india house, ii. , n. ; likeness to johnson, iv. iii, n. . mill, john stuart, difference in pay of men and women, on the, ii. , n. ; in the east india house, ii. , n. ; precocity, i. , n. ; teaching, old and new systems of, ii. , n. . millar, andrew, the bookseller, account of him, i. , n. ; hume's _history of england_, publishes, v. , n. ; johnson's _dictionary_, one of the proprietors of, i. ; robertson's _scotland_, publishes, iii. ; 'thanks god,' i. ; mentioned, i. , , n. . miller, sir john, ii. ; iii. . miller, john, printer of the evening post, iv. , n. . miller, lady, ii. . miller, philip, v. , n. , , n. . miller, professor john, v. , n. . milman, dean, iv. , n. . milner, joseph, i. , n. . milton, john, adam, description of, iv. , n. ; _areopagitica_, ii. , n. ; blank verse, iv. - ; puzzles a shepherd, iv. , n. ; boccage's translation, iv. , n. ; books, few called for in his time, iv. , n. ; borrows out of pride, v. , n. ; boswell, a wonder to, iv. ; malone's explanation, ib., n. ; character, equal to his, ii. , n. ; confidence in himself, i. , n. ; college exercises, i. , n. ; condescension in writing for children, ii. , n. ; disdainful of help or hindrance, i. , n. ; dryden's lines on him: ii. ; v. ; early manuscripts, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; education, 'wonders' in, ii. , n. ; frugality of a commonwealth, iii. , n. ; giant among the pigmies, iv. , n. ; grand-daughter, benefit for his, i. ; johnson writes the _prologue_, ib.; recommends a subscription for her, i. ; habitations, i. ; iii. ; johnson's abhorrence of his political principles, i. ; iv. - ; admiration of his blank verse, iv. , n. ; blazon of his excellence, iv. ; does him 'illustrious justice,' i. , - ; criticises minor poems, iv. , n. i, ; _samson agonistes_, i. , n. ; earlier and later estimates of him, ii. ; supposed enmity to him, i. ; ii. , n. ; iv. ; lauder's imposition, i. ; lawrence, dr., descended from 'lawrence of virtuous father virtuous son,' ii. , n. ; _life_, by johnson, iv. - ; monument in westminster abbey, i. , n. ; one suggested in st. paul's, ii. ; 'milton, _mr_. john,' iv. ; _milton no plagiary_, i. , n. ; _paradise lost_, the war of heaven, ii. , n. ; phidias, a, iv. , n. ; public prayers omitted, i. , n. , , n. ; schoolmaster, i. , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; shoe-latchets, wore, v. ; style, distinguished by his, iii. ; 'thinking in him,' ii. ; _tractate on education_, iii. ; quotations-- _allegro_, . , iii. , n. ; l. , i. ;-- . , i. ; _lycidas_, . , v. , n. ; _paradise lost_ (i. ), iii. , n. ; (i. ), iii. , n. ; (ii. , ), iii. , n. ; (ii. ), iv. , n. ; (ii. ), i. , n. ; (ii. ), iv. , n. , v. , n. ; (iv. ), iv. , n. ; (iv. ), iv. , n. ; (v. ), iv. , n. ; (vii. ), iv. , n. ; (x. ), iii. , n. ; _penseroso_, . , i. , n. ; _sonnets_, xxi., iv. , n. . mimicry, ii. . mind, management of it, ii. ; mechanical, looked at as, v. ; physician's art useless to one not at ease, iii. ; putting one's whole mind to an object, ii. ; retreats for it, ii. . see weather. ministers of the church, popular election of, ii. . ministries, attempt at silence in the house of commons, iii. ; concessions to the people, ii. ; iii. ; list of ministries from - , iv. , n. ; lord north's ministry, its duration, iv. , n. ; ( ) contest with the city, iv. , n. ; ( ) much enfeebled, ii. ; want of power, v. ; ( ) feeble, iv. ; ( ) merit not rewarded, ii. ; neither stable nor grateful, ii. ; feeble and timid, ii. ; too little power, ii. ; ( ) 'timidity of our scoundrels,' iii. ; imbecility, iii. , ib., n. ; ministers asked to the lord mayor's feast for the first time for seven years, iii. ; ( ) 'now there is no power,' iii. ; ( ) johnson has no delight in talking of public affairs, iii. ; horace walpole's account, ib., n. ; ( ), afraid to repress persecution of papists in scotland, iii. , n. ; feebleness at the gordon riots, iii. ; ( ), johnson against it, iv. , ; gives thanks for its dissolution, iv. ; bunch of imbecility, ib.; successors could hardly do worse, iv. , n. ; timidity, iv. ; struggles between two sets of ministers in , iv. , n. . minorca, ii. ; iii. . '_mira cano_,' iii. . mirabeau, 'dramatised his death,' v. , n. ; his motion about corsica, ii. , n. . miracles, i. ; iii. . _mirror, the_, iv. . mirth, the measure of a man's understanding, ii. , n. . _miscellaneous and fugitive pieces by the authour of the rambler_, ii. . _miscellaneous observations on the tragedy of macbeth_, published , i. ; praised by warburton, i. ; criticism on hanmer, i. . misdemeanour, defined, iii. . _misella_, i. . misers, contemptible philosophically, v. ; few in england, v. ; must be miserable, iii. ; no man born a miser, iii. . misery, balance of misery, iv. ; 'doom of man,' iii. ; hypocrisy of misery, iv. ; misery of want, iii. . misfortunes, talking of one's, iv. . _miss_, a, v. , n. . missionaries, sanguine and untrustworthy, v. . mistresses, i. . mitchell, mr., english minister at berlin, iii. , n. . mitchell, a tradesman, i. , n. . mob rule, iii. . see riots. _modern characters from shakespeare_, iii. . _modern characters from the classics_, iii. . modern times, better than ancient, iv. ; v. . modernising an author, iv. . modesty, how far natural, iii. . _modus_, i. ; iii. . moliÈre, _avare_, v. ; goes round the world, v. ; _misanthrope_, iii. , n. . molinists, iii. , n. . moltzer, jacques, v. , n. . monarchy, iii. . monasteries, austerities treated of in _rambler_ and _idler_, ii. ; bodily labour wanted, ii. ; carthusian, unreasonableness of becoming a, ii. ; their silence absurd, ib.; johnson curious to see them, i. ; saying to a lady abbess, ii. ; men enter them who cannot govern themselves, i. ; ii. ; monastic morality, iii. ; when allowable, ii. ; unfit for the young, v. . monboddo, lord (james burnet), account of him, ii. , n. ; v. ; air bath, his, iii. ; ancestors, superiority of our, v. ; boswell, letter from, v. ; condamine's _savage girl_, v. ; copyright, v. ; dictionary-makers, i , n. ; egyptians, ancient, iv. ; elzevir johnson, an, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; enthusiastical farmer, v. , ; erse writings, ii. - , ; _farmer burnet_, v. , ; gory, his black servant, v. ; helping him downhill, v. ; home's _douglas_ better than shakespeare, v. , n. ; 'humour, _incolumi gravitate_,' v. ; johnson's _journey_, receives a copy of, iii. ; meets, in edinburgh, v. ; in london, iv. ; no love for, ii. , n. ; ib., n. ; iv. , n. ; v. ; pleased with him, v. ; style, criticised, iii. ; visits him, iv. , n. ; v. , - , ; judge _a posteriori_, v. ; knight the negro, case of, iii. ; 'monny,' iv. , n. ; 'nation,' his, ii. ; _origin and progress of language_, ii. , n. ; , n. ; ouran-outang, capabilities of the, v. , ; primitive state of human nature, ii. ; savage life, admiration of, ii. , ; v. ; son, his, v. ; tail, theory of the, v. , iii., ; talked nonsense, ii. ; v. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; iv. , n. . monckton, hon. mary (countess of cork), account of her, iv. n. ; boswell gets drunk in her house, iv. ; sends her verses, iv. , n. ; johnson at her assembly, iv. , n. ; calls her a dunce, iv. ; promises her to go and see mrs. siddons, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . money, abilities needed in getting it, iii. ; advantages that it can give, iv. , , ; arguments against it, i. ; awkwardness in counting it, iv. ; change in its value, v. , n. ; circulating, happiness produced by its, ii. ; iii. , , , nn. and ; conveniences where it is plentiful, v. ; country, keeping it in the, ii. - ; domestic satisfaction, laid out on, ii. ; economy in its use, iii. ; enjoyed, should be early, ii. ; excludes but one evil--poverty, iii. ; getting it not all a man's business, iii. ; gives nothing extraordinary, iv. ; hoarded, iv. ; increase of it breaks down subordination, iii. ; increase of it in one nation impoverishes another, ii. ; influence, gives, v. ; influence of loans, ii. ; iv. ; influence by patronising young men, ii. ; 'insolence of wealth,' iii. ; interest, iii. ; investments, iv. ; '_make_ money,' iii. ; money-getting defended, ii. ; iv. ; occupation, purchases, iii. ; respect gained by it, ii. ; save and spend, happiest those who, iii. ; spending it better than giving it, iii. ; iv. ; trade, not increased by, ii. ; travelling, difficulties of, when there was little money, iii. ; writing for it, iii. . see debts. monks. see monasteries. monks of medmenham abbey, i. , n. . monmouth, duke of, v. . monnoye, de la, iii. , n. . monro, dr., iv. - . montacute, lords, iv. . montagu, edward, iii. , n. . montagu, lady wortley, contempt for richardson, iv. , n. . montagu, mrs., account of her writings, ii. , n. ; air and manner, iii. , n. ; barry's picture, in, iv. , n. ; bath, at, iii. - ; benevolence, her, iii. , n. ; boswell excluded from her house, iv. ; character by miss burney, iii. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; by johnson and mrs. thrale, ib.; cumberland's _feast of reason_, described in, iv. ; garrick, praises, v. ; _essay on shakespeare_, ii. ; iv. , n. ; v. ; boswell's controversy with mrs. piozzi about it, ib., n. ; house, her new, iv. , n. , , n. ; ill, iii. ; johnson, drops, iv. ; gives her a catalogue of de foe's works, iii. ; high praise of her, iv. ; letters to her: see johnson, letters; 'not highly gratified; ii. ; quarrels with, iii. , n. ; war with him, iv. , , n. ; reconciled, iv. , n. , , n. ; the support of her assemblies, iv. , n. ; lived to a great age, iv. , n. ; lyttelton, lord, friendship with, iv. ; mounsey, dr., mentions, ii. , n. ; _par pluribus_, iii. ; portrait by miss reynolds, iii. ; pretence to learning, iii. ; shakespeare, patronises, ii. , n. ; trembles for him, ii. ; stillingfleet's blue stockings, iv. , n. ; williams, mrs., pensions, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; wits, among the, iv. , n. . montague, basil, son of lord sandwich, iii. , n. . montague, frederic, moves to abolish the fast of jan. , ii. , n. . montaigne, on wise men playing the fool, i. , n. . montesquieu, _esprit des lois_, helvetius advises against its publication, v. , n. ; on the abolition of torture, i. , n. ; influence on hume, ii. , n. ; _lettres persanes_, iii. , n. ; quotes the practice of unknown countries, v. . montgomerie, margaret (mrs. boswell). see boswell, mrs. montgomery, colonel, v. . _monthly review_, badcock's correspondence, iv. , n. ; griffiths, owned by, iii. , n. , , n. ; hostile to the church, ii. , iii. ; payment to writers, iv. , n. ; price of a fourth share, iii. , n. ; smollett, attack on, iii. , n. ; written by duller men than the critical reviewers, iii. . montrose, second duke of, boswell gets drunk at his house, iv. ; shot a highwayman, iii. , n. ; mentioned, v. , n. . montrose, third duke of. see graham, marquis of. montrose, first marquis of, letters to the laird of col, v. - ; his execution, v. , n. . montrose, house of, iii. . monuments in st. paul's cathedral, ii. ; iv. , n. . monville, mr., ii. , . moody, the player, clapped on the back by tom davies, ii. ; mentioned, ii. , . moon, twenty-sixth day of the new, iv. . moor, dr., professor of greek at glasgow, iii. , n. . moore, edward, account of him, iii. , n. ; edits _the world_, i. , n. , , n. . moore, dr. john, confounded with edward moore, iii. , n. ; describes the streets of paris, ii. , n. ; meets johnson at mr. hoole's, iv. , n. . moore, rev. mr., ordinary of newgate, iv. , n. . moore, thomas, lines on sheridan's funeral, i. , n. . moors of barbary, ii. . morality, substitution for it when violated, ii. . moravians, intimate with johnson, iv. ; missions, v. ; quarrel with the methodists, iii. , n. . moray, bishop of, v. , n. . more, hannah, _bas bleu_, iii. , n. ; iv. ; boarding-school, kept a, iv. , n. ; books found guilty of popery, iii. , n. ; boswell's tenderness for johnson's failings, beseeches, i. , n. ; boswell's and garrick's imitation of johnson, ii. , n. ; covent-garden mob, iv. , n. ; dates, indifferent to, iv. , n. ; fox, describes, iv. , n. ; garrick's death and the literary club, i. , n. ; explanation of johnson's harshness, iii. , n. ; flatters, iii. ; and mrs. garrick, friendship with, iii. , n. ; garrick's, mrs., 'chaplain,' iv. ; george iii and hutton the moravian, iv. , n. ; henderson, john, of pembroke college, iv. , n. ; hides her face, iv. ; home's _douglas_, v. , n. ; johnson brilliant and good-humoured, iii. , n. ; criticism of milton, iv. , n. , ; death an era in literature, iv. , n. ; finds her reading pascal, iv. , n. ; flatters, iii. ; iv. ; flattered by him, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; and george iii, ii. , n. ; health in , iv. , n. ; , iv. , n. ; in grosvenor square iv. , n. ; introduced to, iv. , n. ; _journey_, sale of, ii. , n. ; likens her to hannibal, iv. , n. ; praises her, iv. ; and macbeth's heath, v. , n. ; 'mild radiance of the setting sun,' iv. ; prayer for dr. brocklesby, iv. , n. ; regret that he had no profession, iii. , n. ; shows her pembroke college, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; and _the siege of sinope_, iii. , n. ; kennicott, dr., ii. , n. ; kennicott, mrs., iv. , n. ; langton's devotion to johnson, iv. , n. ; _leonidas_ glover and horace walpole, v. , n. ; lived to a great age, iv. ; n. ; monboddo, lord, v. , n. ; _nine_, iv. , n. ; paoli's mixture of languages, ii. , n. ; percy, tragedy of, iii. , n. ; respectable, use of the term, iii. , n. ; scarlet dress in a court-mourning, iv. , n. ; _sensibility_, iv. , n. ; shipley's, bishop, assembly, iv. , n. ; thrale's death, iv. , n. ; _tom jones_, reads, ii. , n. ; vesey's, mrs., parties, iii. , n. ; williams, miss, i. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . more, dr. henry, _divine dialogues_, v. ; a visionary, ii. . more, rorie. see macleod, sir roderick. more, sir thomas, death, not deserted by his mirth in, v. , n. ; epigram on him, v. ; manuscripts in the bodleian, i. ; _utopia_ quoted, iii. , n. . _more_, celtic for _great_, ii. , n. ; v. . morell, dr. thomas, v. . morellet, abbé, ii. , n. . morÉri's _dictionary_, v. . morgagni, ii. . morgann, maurice, anecdotes of johnson, iv. ; _essay on falstaff_, iv. . _morning chronicle_, iv. , , n. . _morning post_, iv. , n. . morris, corbyn, iv. , n. . morris, miss, iv. . morris, mr. secretary, ii. , n. . morrison, mr. alfred, _collection of autographs_, johnson's letter to ryland, iv. , n. ; to taylor, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; johnson's receipt for payment for the _lives_, iv. , n. . morrison, kenneth, v. . mortimer, dr., rector of lincoln college, oxford, ii. , n. . mosaical chronology, i. . moser, mr., keeper of the royal academy, ii. , n. ; iv. . moses, brydone's antimosaical remark, ii. ; evidence required from him by pharoah, ii. ; song of moses paraphrased, v. . moss, dr., iv. . motives, i. . motteux, mr., ii. . mounsey, dr., account of him, ii. , n. ; johnson vehement against him, ii. . mount edgecumbe, ii. , n. ; v. o . mountainous regions, iii. . mountstuart, lord (second earl of bute), boswell's dedication to him, ii. , n. , ; friendship with him, iv. ; v. ; embassy to turin, iii. ; scotch militia bill, ii. ; iii. ; mentioned, i. , ; iii. - . _mourning bride_. see under congreve, william. _mouse's likeness_, v. , n. . _muddy_, ii. , . mudge, colonel william, i. , n. . mudge, dr. john, i. ; letter from johnson, iv. . mudge, mr., i. . mudge, rev. zachariah, death, iv. , n. ; 'idolised in the west,' i. ; johnson's character of him, iv. - ; _sermons_, iv. , . muffins, buttered, iii. . muir, a scotch advocate, transported for sedition, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . mulgrave, second baron, i, , n. ; iii. ; v. , n. . muller, mr., of woolwich academy, i. , n. . mulso, miss. see chapone, mrs. mummies, iv. . munster, bishop of, iii. , n. . murchison, ----, a factor, v. , . murder, prescription of, v. , . murdoch, dr., _life of thomson_, iii. , , . murison, principal, v. - . murphy, arthur, account of him, i. , n. ; ben jonson's _fall of mortimer_, iii. , n. ; boswell's introduction to johnson, i. , n. ; campbell's _diary_, mentioned in, ii. , n. ; counsel in the copyright case, ii. ; davies's stories, perhaps the subject of one of, iii. , n. ; _elements of criticism_, ii. ; _epilogue to irene_, mistaken about the, i. , n. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , ; _euphrasia_, v. , n. ; _false delicacy_, ii. , n. ; foote's _life_, ought to write, iii. , n. ; garrick, controversy with, i. , n. ; description of a dinner at his house, ii. , n. ; of his funeral, iv. , n. ; sarcasm against him, ii. , n. ; _gray's inn journal_, i. , , ; inaccuracy about a visit to oxford, iv. , n. ; johnson, account of his introduction to, i. , n. , ; apologises to, for repeating some oaths, ii. , n. ; iii. ; an ardent friend, iv. , n. ; colloquial latin, ii. , n. ; contempt of garrick's acting, ii. , n. ; _debates_, i. ; degree of doctor, i. , n. ; desire of life, iv. , n. ; desire for reconciliation, ii. , n. ; dread of death, iv. , n. ; and garrick introduced to the thrales, i. ; levee, attends, ii. ; life in johnson's court, ii. . n. ; love for him, ii. ; pension, i. - ; praises him as a dramatic writer, ii. ; sorrow for garrick's death, iii. , n. ; proposal to write his _life_, ib.; style, i. , n. ; and thurlow, iv. , n. ; will, not in, iv. , n. ; wit and humour, ii. , n. ; mason's _memoirs of gray_, iii. ; mounsey, dr., ii. , n. ; _mur_, ii. ; _orphan of china_, i. , n. , ; _poetical epistle to s. johnson_, i. ; portrait at streatham, iv. , n. ; _review of burke's sublime and beautiful_, i. ; _romeo and juliet_ as altered by garrick, v. , n. ; _selections_, disapproves of, iii. ; shakespeare and congreve compared, ii. ; simpson, joseph, account of, iii. ; smith's _wealth of nations_, cannot read, ii. , n. ; _spectator_, chance writers in the, iii. ; thrale's friendship for him, i. , n. ; 'tig and tirry,' ii. , n. ; _zenobia_, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , , , n. ; iii. ; iv. . murray, sir alexander, v. . murray, lady augusta, ii. , n. . murray, lord george, ii. , n. . murray, james stuart, earl of, the regent, v. , n. . murray, john, the bookseller, iii. . murray, ---- (lord henderland), johnson, dines with, iii. - ; silent in his company, v. ; sends his son to westminster school, iii. . murray, r., fellow of trinity college, dublin, i. . murray, william. see mansfield, earl of. _musarum deliciae_, iii. , n. . _muse in livery_, ii. . _muses' welcome to king james_, v. , . musgrave, dr. samuel, dines with reynolds, iii. - ; parades his greek, iii. , n, . musgrave, mr. (afterwards sir) richard, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . musgrave, sir william, i. . music, effect of it explained, iii. ; emoluments of performers, ii. ; melancholy effects produced _per se_ bad, iv. ; in _revelation_, ii. . see johnson, music. _musical travels of joel collyer_, i. . muswell hill, ii. , n. . mutiny act. see soldiers. _mutual_ friend, iii. , n. . myddelton, rev. mr., v. . myddleton, colonel, family motto, v. , n. ; johnson, erects a memorial to, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; visits him, v. , - . mylne, robert, i. . _mysargyrus_, i. , , n. . mystery, iii. boswell's love of _the mysterious_, iv. , n. ; 'the wisdom of blockheads,' iii. , n. ; universal, iii. . mythology, its dark and dismal regions, iv. , n. ; can no longer be used by poets, iv. ; none among savages, iii. . n. nabobs, ii. , n. ; v. . nail, growth of the, iii. , n. . nairne, colonel, v. - . nairne, william (lord dunsinan), accompanies johnson to st. andrews, v. , , , ; to edinburgh castle, v. ; praised by him, v. ; and by sir walter scott, ib., n. ; mentioned, iii. , ; v. , - . nairne, mr., the optician, iii. , n. . _namby-pamby_, i. . names, queer-sounding, iii. . namptwich, v. . nap after dinner, ii. . napier, rev. alexander, edition of boswell, ii. , n. . naples, iii. ; v. . _naples, history of the kingdom of_, iv. , n. . napoleon bonaparte, ii. , n. . nares, rev. mr., iv. . narrow place, how far the mind grows narrow in a, ii. narrowness in expenses, v. - ; a fit of narrowness, iv. . nash, alderman, iii. . nash, richard ('beau'), engages in a religious dispute at bath, iv. , n. ; 'here comes a fool,' i. , nn. , ; a pen his torpedo, i. , n. ; put down smoking at bath, v. , n. . nash, rev. dr., _history of _worcestershire_, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . nation, state of common life, v. , n. . national character, no permanence in, ii. . national debt, ii. ; iii. , n. . national faith, iv, . native place, love of one's, iv. . natives. see under indians and savages. natural history, iii. . _natural history_. see goldsmith, oliver, _animated nature_. natural philosophy, ii. . nature, boswell's want of relish for its beauties, i. ; all men envious and thieves by nature, iii. ; state of nature, iii. ; v. . see under savages. _nature displayed_, iv. . _navigation_, ii. , n. ; iii. . _navvy_, iii. , n. . neander, ii. . necessity, an eternal, v. . see under free will. necker, mme., garrick's _hamlet_, v. , n. . negroes. see slaves. negroes,--law-cases. see knight, joseph, and somerset, james. nelson, robert, festivals and fasts, ii. ; iv. ; friend of archibald campbell, v. ; the original of sir charles grandison, ii. , n. . neni, count, iii. . nero, ii. , n. . nerves, weak, iv. . netherlands, johnson's projected tour, i. ; iii. ; temple's account of the drinking, iii. . _network_, defined, i. . neufchatel, ii. . _new bath guide_, i. , n. . new floodgate iron, iv. . new place, effects of a, iii. . _new protestant litany_, i. , n. . new south wales, iv. , n. . _new testament_, most difficult book in the world, iii. . new zealand, iii. . newbery, francis, bookseller, and dealer in quack medicines, v. , n. ; johnson's advice to him about a fiddle, iii. , n. . newbery, john, the bookseller, children's books, iv. , n. ; goldsmith's publisher, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; james's powder, vendor of, iii. , n. 'jack whirler' of the idler, v. , n. ; johnson's debts to him, i. , n. ; publishes his idler, i. , , n. ; the world displayed, i. . newcastle, famous townsmen, v. , n. ; johnson passes through it, ii. , ; v. ; story of a ghost, iii. , . newcastle, first duke of, i. . newcastle, second duke of, iv. . newcastle fly, ii. , n. . newcastle ship-master, a, v. . newcastle-under-line, iii. , n. . newcome, colonel (in the newcomes), ii. , n. . newfoundland fishery, iii. , n. . newhall, lord, iii. . newhaven, lord, iii. - . newman, cardinal, johnson's truthfulness, iv. , n. ; oxford about the year , ii. , n. . newmarket, i. , n. . newmarsh, captain, v. . newport school in shropshire, i. , , n. . newspapers, booksellers, governed by the, v. , n. l; everything put into them, iii. , ; knowledge diffused, ii. ; macpherson's 'supervision,' ii. , n. ; in the time of the usurpation, v. ; whole world informed, ii. . newswriters, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . newton, sir isaac, _arguments in proof of a deity_, i. ; a worthy carman will get to heaven as well as he, iii. ; bentley's verses, mentioned in, iv. , n. ; free from singularities, ii. , n, ; house in st. martin's street, iv. ; infidelity, reported early, i. ; johnson's admiration of him, ii. ; leibnitz and clarke, v. ; mathematical knowledge unequalled, iv. ; poet, as a, v. ; 'stone dolls,' ii. , n. . newton, john, bishop of bristol and dean of st. paul's, _account of his own life_, iv. , n. , , n. ; censures johnson, iv. , n. ; johnson's retaliation, iv. - ; _dissertation on the prophecies_, iv. ; mentioned, i. , n. . newton, john, of lichfield, father of the bishop, i. , n. . newton, rev. john, engaged in the slave trade, iii. , n. ; johnson's 'conversion,' iv. , n. . newton, dr., i. , n. . newton, mr., of lichfield, v. . niccolson, of scorbreck, v. . nichols, dr. frank, _de anima medica_, iii. ; physician to the king, turned out by lord bute, ii. ; rule of attendance as a physician, iii. . nichols, john, account of him, iv. ; _anecdotes of william bowyer, iv. , , ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , , ; _gent. mag_., edits, i. , n. ; iv. ; johnson, anecdotes of, iv. , n. ; funeral, invitation card to, iv. , n. ; and henderson the actor, iv. , n. ; last days, iv. - ; v. , n. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; spells his name wrongly, iv. , n. ; _literary anecdotes of the eighteenth century_, iv. , n. , ; thirlby, memoir of, iv. , n. ; tyers and _the idler_, iii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , , n. , , , n. ; iv. . nicholson ----, an advocate, v. . nicknames, i. , n. . nicol, george, the bookseller, iv. ; letter from johnson, iv. . nicolaida, ii. . nidification, ii. . night-caps, v. - , . _night thoughts_. see young. nile, a waterfall on it, i. , n. . nisbet, rev. mr., v. . nisbet, ----, an advocate, v. . nisbett, sir john, iii. , n. . nitrogen, discovery of, iv. , n. . _no sir_, as used by johnson, ii. ; iii. , , , ; explained by boswell, iv. . nobility, fortune-seeking, ii. ; respect due to them, i. ; iv. ; in virtue above the average, iii. ; unconstitutional influence in elections, iv. , . noble, mark, _memoirs of cromwell_, iv. , n. . noble authors, iv. - . nobleman, an indolent scotch, iv. . nodot, abbe, iii. , n. . nollekens, joseph, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . nollekens, mrs., iii. . nonjurors, archibald campbell, v. ; cibber's _nonjuror_, applicable to them, ii. ; comparative criminality in taking and refusing the oaths, ii. - ; could not reason, iv. - ; falconer, bishop, iii. - ; johnson never in one of their meeting-houses, iv. . _nonpareil_, v. , n. . norbury park, iv. . nores, jason de, ii. . norfolk, militia, i. , n. ; sale of the _rambler_ in the county, i. , n. ; mentioned, iv. . _norfolk prophecy_, i. . norris,--, a staymaker, i. . north, dudley. see long. north, frederick, lord (second earl of guilford), coalition ministry, iv. , n. i; conciliatory propositions, iii. ; _falkland's islands_, stops the sale of, ii. ; fox's dismissal from the treasury, ii. , n. ; gibbon, admired by, v. , n. ; humour, v. ; johnson, fear of, as an m.p., ii. , n. ; no friend to, ii. ; goes to his house, v. ; proposes the degree of ll.d. for, ii. , n. ; writes to the vice-chancellor, ii. ; king's agent, merely the, ii. , n. i; macdonald, mr., abused by, v. , n. ; ministry: see under ministries; subscription to the articles, upholds, ii. , n. ; thurlow's hatred of him, iv. , n. . _north briton_, essay by chatterton, iii. , n. ; johnson's definitions, i. , n. . see under wilkes. north pole, voyage to the, v. . northamptonshire, v. . northcote, james, boswell's self-reproach, v. , _i_ ; goldsmith and _cross-readings_, iv. , n. ; goldsmith on entering a room, i. , n. ; johnson's character of mudge, iv. , n. ; johnson's interview with george iii, ii. , n. ; lowe the painter, iv. , n. ; pulteney's oratory, i. , n. ; reynolds appointed painter to the king, iv. , n. ; dinner-parties, iv. , n. ; influence in the academy, iv. , n. ; and mrs. siddons, iv. , n. ; use of 'sir,' i. , n. ; visit to devonshire, i. , n. ; reynolds's, miss, pictures, iv. , n. ; sees _she stoops to conquer_, ii. , n. . northend, iv. , n. . northington, lord chancellor, i. , n. . northington, second earl of, lord-lieutenant of ireland in , iv. . northumberland, a breed of reindeer, ii. , n. ; plantations of trees, iii. ; price of corn in , iii. , n. . northumberland, first duke of, _capability_ brown his guest, iii. , n. ; dr. mounsey at his table, ii. ; goldsmith's visionary project, iv. , n. ; irish vice-roy, ii. ; iv. , n. ; johnson, civility to, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . northumberland, elizabeth duchess of, batheaston vase, writes for the, ii. ; boswell boasts of her acquaintance, iii. , n. ; cock lane ghost, goes to hear the, i. , n, . northumberland, eighth earl of, v. , n. . northumberland, earls of, dr. percy's descent from them, iii. , n. . norton, sir fletcher, first lord grantley, account of him, ii. , n. ; his ignorance, ii. . norway, i. ; ii. ; v. , n. . _nose_ of the mind, iv. . _notes and queries_, athenian blockhead, i. , n. ; bowles, william, of heale, iv. , n. ; brooke's _earl of essex_, iv. , n. ; ford family, will and pedigree, i. , n. ; johnson's calculations about walling a garden, iv. , n. ; house in bolt court, ii. , n. ; letter on having a stroke of palsy, reprint of, iv. , n. ; (for his other letters to hector, taylor, &c., see under johnson, letters); marriage register, i. , n. ; and maty, i. , n. ; tutor to mr. whitby, i. , n. ; johnson, michael, publishes floyer's [greek: pharmako-basanos] i. , n. ; his marriage, i. , n. ; johnson, nathanael, i. , n. ; langton's _navigation_, ii. , n. ; pembroke college _gaudy_, i. , n. ; _solution of continuity_, iii. , n. ; swift 'a shallow fellow,' v. , n. ; taylor's, dr., separation from his wife, i. , n. . nottingham, described by hutton in , i. , n. ; fair, iii. , n. ; a learned pig, iv. . nourse, the bookseller, iii. , n. . _nouveau tableau de paris_, ii. , n. . nova zembla, v. . novalis, iii. , n. . novelty, boys' restless desire for it, iii. ; paper on it in _the spectator_, iii. ; rousseau's love of it, i. ; goldsmith, ib., n. ; iii. . november the fifth, johnson's verses on it, i. . nowell, dr., boswell and johnson dine with him, iv. ; fast sermon on jan. , ii. , n. ; iv. . noyon, ii. . _nugae antiquae_, iv. . nugent, colonel, ii. , n. . nugent, dr., account of him, i. , n. ; member of the literary club, i. ; ii. , ; professor in the imaginary college, v. . _nullum numen adest_, &c., iv. . numbers, science of. see arithmetic and mathematics. nuncomar, iv. , n. . _nuremberg chronicle_, v. . nurse, putting oneself to, ii. . 'nux gar erchetai,'[greek] ii. . nuys, iii. , n. . o. oakes, mrs., i. , n. . oakover, v. - . oaths, abjuration, oath of, ii. , , n. ; examination under oath, v. ; imposition of oaths, ii. , n. . see swearing. oats, defined, i. ; iv. ; oat-ale, ii. ; oat-cakes eaten in lichfield, ii. ; oatmeal eaten dry, v. ; 'they who feed on it are barbarians,' v. . obedience, iii. . objections may be made to everything, ii. ; iii. . obligations, moral and ritual, ii. ; perfect and imperfect, ii. ; reynolds's reflection on gaining freedom from them, i. . oblivion, iv. , n. ; morbid, v. . o'brien, william, the actor, described by walpole, iv. , n. ; his marriage, ii. , n. . obscenity, repressed in johnson's company, iv. . observance of days, ii. . _observations on diseases of the army_, iv. , n. . _observations on his britanick majesty's treaties, &c_., i. . _observations on the present state of affairs_, i. , . _observer, the_, iv. . obstinacy, must be overcome, ii. . occupation, iii. ; hereditary, v. . o'connor, charles, johnson's letters to him, i. ; iii. . octavia, iv. . odd, nothing odd will do long, ii. . ode, goldsmith's account of one, iv. . _ode, ad urbanum_, i. . _ode, an_, i. . _ode, in theatre_, ii. , n. . _ode on solitude_, iii. . _ode on st. cecilia's day,_ i. . _ode on the british nation_, iv. . _ode on the peace_, iv. . _ode on winter_, i. . _ode to friendship_, i. . _ode to melancholy_, i. , n. . _ode to mrs. thrale_, a caricature, iv. . _ode to mrs. thrale_, written in sky, v. . _ode to the warlike genius of britain_, iii. . _ode upon the isle of sky_, v. . _odes. see_ cibber, colley, and gray, thomas. _odes to obscurity and oblivion_, ii. . odin, iii. . odyssey. see homer. _oedipus tyrannus_, johnson's preface to maurice's translation, iii. , n. . _ofellus_, i. . offely, mr., i. . officer. see soldier. ogden, rev. dr. samuel, _sermons_, boswell edified by them, v. ; caricatured by rowlandson, ib., n. ; johnson wishes to read them, iii. ; tries to, v. , ; prevailed on to read one aloud, v. ; on original sin, iv. , n. ; on prayer, v. , , , , ; quotation from one, v. . ogilby, john, i. . ogilvie, dr. john, _poems_, i. , , n. ; praises scotland, i. . ogilvy, sir james, v. , n. . oglethorpe, general, account of him, i. , n. , , n. ; belgrade, siege of, ii. ; birth, ii. , n. ; boswell and the corsicans, ii. , n. ; to shebbeare, introduces, iv. ; communicates particulars of his life to, ii. n. ; caligula and the senate, iii. ; dinners at his house, ii. , , , ; iii. , ; v. , n. ; duelling, defends, ii. ; father, his, iv. ; georgia, colonises, i. , n. ; johnson's _london_, patronises, i. ; visits, iv. ; willing to write his _life_, ii. ; luxury, declaims against, iii. ; 'never completes what he has to say,' iii. ; pope's lines on him, i. , n. ; prendergast and sir j. friend, ii. ; prince of wirtemberg and the glass of wine, ii. ; vivacity and knowledge, iii. ; wesley, charles, ill-uses, i. , n. . oglethorpe, mr., ii. . 'o'hara, you are welcome,' v. . oil of vitriol, ii. ; johnson's, v. , n. . o'kane, the harper, v. . okerton, i. , n. . old age, desirable, how far, iv. ; evils, its, iii. ; memory, failure of, iii. ; men less tender in old age, v. , n. ; mind growing torpid, iii. ; _senectus_, iii. . old bailey, _sessional reports_, baretti's trial, ii. , n. ; bet flint's, iv. , n. ; contain 'strong facts,' ii. . _old man's wish, the_, iv. . old men, loss of the companions of their youth, iii. ; putting themselves to nurse, ii. ; supposed to be decayed in intellect, iv. . old street club, iii. - ; iv. . old swinford, v. . oldfield, dr., iii. . oldham, john, _imitation of juvenal_, i. . oldmixon, john, i. , n. . oldys, william, account of him, i. ; author of _busy, curious, thirsty fly_, ii. , n. ; _harleian catalogue_, compiles part of the, i. ; harleian library, on the price paid for the, i. ; notes on _langbaine_, iii. , n. . o'leary, father arthur, _remarks on wesley's letter_, ii. , n. ; v. n. . oliver, alderman, iv. , n. . oliver, dame, i. . _olla podrida_, iv. , n. . omai, iii. . ombersley, v. . onslow, arthur, the speaker, challenged by elwall the quaker, ii. , n. ; richardson gave vails to his servants, v. . opera girls, in france, iv. . opie, john, iv. , n. , . opinion, hurt by differences in it, iii. . opium, use of it, iv. . opponents, good-humour with them, iii. ; how they should be treated, ii. . opposition, the, johnson and sir p.j. clerk argue on it, iv. ; describes it as meaning rebellion, iv. , n. ; in , describes it as 'factious,' iv. . opposition increases political differences, v. . orange peel, johnson's use of it, ii. , , n. ; iv. ; manufacture, iv. . orators cannot be translated, iii. . oratory, action in speaking, i. ; ii. ; johnson and wilkes discuss it, iv. ; a man's powers not to be estimated by it, ii. ; old sheridan's oratory, iv. , . orchards, johnson's advice, ii. ; madden's saying, iv. ; unknown in many parts, iv. . ord, mrs., iv. , n. , , n. . orde, lord chief baron, ii. , n. ; v. . orde, miss, v. , n. . ordinary of newgate, and the cock lane ghost, i. , n. . see rev. mr. moore and rev. mr. villette. orford, third earl of, iv. , n. . orford, fourth earl of. see walpole, horace. _oriental gardening_. see chambers, sir william. origin of evil, v. , . _original letters_. see warner, rebecca. original sin, johnson's paper on it, iv. ; ogden's sermon, ib., n. . _orlando furioso_, i. , n. . orme, captain, iv. . orme, robert, the historian, admires johnson's _journey to the western islands_, ii. ; v. , n. ; and his talk, iii. ; mapping of the east indies and highlands of scotland compared, ii. . ormond, house of, gives three chancellors in succession to oxford, i. , n. . ormond, first duke of, _life_ by carte, v. , n. . ormond, second duke of, impeached, i. , n. ; leads a spanish expedition to scotland, v. , n. . _orphan of china_. see murphy. orpheus, i. . orrery, earls of, a family of writers, v. . orrery, first earl of, a play-writer, v. . orrery, fourth earl of, bentley's antagonist, v. , n. ; his will, ib., n. . orrery, fifth earl of, anecdote of the duchess of buckingham, iii. ; caught at literary eminence, ii. ; iii. ; dignified, not, iv. ; feeble writer, i. , n. ; feeble-minded, v. ; johnson describes his character, v. ; _dictionary_, presents, to the _academia della crusca_, i. ; praises the _plan_ of it, i. ; friendship with, i. ; never sought after him, iii. ; writes a dedication to him for mrs. lennox, i. ; _remarks on swift_, i. , n. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. . orton, job, _memoirs of doddridge_, v. . osborn, a birmingham printer, i. . osborne, sir d'anvers, iv. , n. . osborne, francis, ii. . osborne, thomas, coxeter's collection of poets, buys, iii. ; _harleian catalogue_, publishes the, i. , , ; harleian library, buys the, i. ; johnson dates a letter from his shop, i. ; beats him, i. , , n. ; iii. ; describes his 'impassive dulness,' i. , n. . ossian. see macpherson, james. ossory, lord, member of the literary club, i. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . ostentation, boswell's rebuked, i. ; shown in quoting lords, iv. . otaheite, bread-tree, ii. ; custom of eating dogs, ii. ; mode of slaughtering animals, v. ; rights of children, v. ; savages from whom nothing can be learnt, iii. ; boswell's defence of them, iv. . _othello_, its moral, iii. . otway, thomas, johnson's opinion of him, iv. ; neglected, ii. , n. ; _romeo and juliet_, alters, v. , n. ; tenderness, iv. , n. ; tolling a bell, ii. , n. . oughton, sir adolphus, v. ; his learning, v. , ; quiets a military revolt, v. , n. ; mentioned, v. , . ouran-outang, v. , . overall, bishop, v. , n. . overbury, sir thomas, ii. . _overbury, sir thomas_, a tragedy, iii. . overton, rev. j. h., _life of william law_, ii. , n. . ovid, sappho, ii. ; quotations, _ars am_. . , v. , n. ; _ars am_. . , ii. , n. ; _ep. ex. ponto_ i. , , iii. , n. ; v. n. ; _heroides_ i. , v. , n. ; _heroides_ i. , i. , n. ; _met_. i. , i. ; _met_. . , ii. , n. ; _met_. . , iii. ; _met_. iii. . i. ; _met_. xiii. , i. ; _.tristia_, iv. , , iv. . oxford, harley, first earl of, bolingbroke's character of him, iii. , n. . oxford, second earl of, _bibliotheca harleiana_, i. , . oxford, advantages for learning, ii. ; all souls college, shenstone's 'enemies in the gate,' i. , n. ; its library the largest in oxford except the bodleian, ii. ; a place for study for a man who has a mind to _prance_, ii. , n. ; angel inn, boswell and johnson spend two evenings there, ii. , ; pitt (earl of chatham) hears treasonable songs, i. , n. ; 'bacon's mansion,' iii. ; v. ; balliol college, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; balloon ascent, iv. ; beattie and reynolds made doctors of law, v. , n. ; bocardo, lydiat imprisoned in it, i. , n. ; bodleian, _annals of the bodleian_, iv. , n. ; blackstone's portrait, iv. , n. ; boswell presents mss. to it, iii. , n. ; closed one week in the year, iii. , n. ; _evelina_, iv. , n. ; johnson presents books to it, i. , n. , ; ii. , n. ; a fragment of his diary among the mss., ii. ; largest library in oxford, ii. ; _recuyell of the historyes of troye_, v. , n. ; welsh ms. on music, iii. ; bodley's dome, iii. ; boswell's visits to oxford: see boswell, oxford; brasenose college, james boswell, junior, a member of it, i. ; rev. mr. churton, a fellow, iv. , n. ; johnson seen near its gate, iv. , n. ; the principal's advice, _cave de resignationibus_, ii. , n. ; broadgates hall, the ancient foundation of pembroke college, i. , n. ; castle (prison), wesley preaches to the prisoners, i. , n. ; 'caution' money, i. , n. ; chancellors, three of the house of ormond, i. , n. ; earl of westmoreland, i. , n. , , n. ; lord north, ii. , n. ; christ church, bateman, rev. mr., a tutor, i. ; bequest from lord orrery, v. , n. ; burton, robert, elected student, i. ; 'canons sir, it is a great thing to dine with the canons,' ii. ; dinners lasted six hours, ib., n. ; devotion of a studious man, i. , n. ; johnson mocked by the men, i. ; library, not so large as all souls, ii. ; a place for study for a man who has a mind to _prance_, ii. , n. ; mss. on music, iii. ; psalmanazar lodged there, iii. , ; smith, edmund, a member, i. , n. ; expelled, ii. , n. ; taylor enters by johnson's advice, i. ; confounded with another john taylor, ib., n. ; west describes it in , i. , n. ; christ church meadow, johnson slides on the ice, i. , ; walking on it without a band, iii. , n. ; clarendon press, johnson's advice about its management, ii. - , ; put under better regulations, ii. ; printing _polybius_, ib.; and king alfred's will, iv. , n. ; coffee-house, johnson is wanton and insolent to sheridan, ii. ; v. ; advises warton to snatch time from the coffee-house, i. ; colleges, their authority lessened, iii. ; bequests to them, iii. ; college joker, iv. ; college servants, i. , n. ; commemoration of , i. , n. ; common rooms, the students excluded from them, ii. ; mentioned in warton's _progress of discontent_, iii. , n, ; condemnation-sermon, i. ; degree conferred without examination, iii. , n. ; an honorary degree, i. , n. ; _demy_, a scholar of magdalen college, i. , n. . east gate, i. , n. ; education not by lectures, iv. ; execution for forgery, i. , n. ; gaudies, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; george i's troop of horse, i. , n. ; hastings's, warren, projected institution, iv. , n. ; high-street, johnson standing astride the kennel, ii. , n. ; walking along it without a band, iii. , n. ; iffley, iv. ; ignorance of things necessary to life, ii. , n. ; scholastic ignorance of mankind, ii. ; indifference to literature, i. , n. ; jacobitism, i. , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; jeffrey, lord, an undergraduate, ii. , n. ; johnson elevated by approaching it, iv. ; gives a toast among some grave men, ii. ; iii. ; neglected in his youth, i. , n. ; receives the degree of m.a., i. , , n. , - ; of d.c.l., i. , n. ; ii. - ; says he wished he had learnt to play at cards, iii. ; (for his visits to oxford, see iii. - , and under many headings of this title); kettel hall, account of it, i. , n. ; johnson lodges in it, i. , n. ; lincoln college, chambers, robert, a member of it, i. , ; mortimer, dr., the rector, great at denying, ii. , n. ; wesley, john, a tutor, i. , n. ; _london_, effect produced by, i. ; magdalen bridge, built by gwynn, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; magdalen college, addison elected a demy, i. , n, ; gibbon, described by, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; home, dr., the president, mentioned, ii. ; boswell and johnson drink tea with him, ii. ; warton, thomas, senior, a fellow, i. , n. ; magdalen hall, i. ; _manège_ projected, ii. ; market built by gwynn, v. , n. ; merton college, boswell saunters in the walks, iv. ; mentioned, ii. ; methodists, rise of the, i. , n. , , n. ; expulsion of six, ii. ; murray, william (earl of mansfield), matriculates, ii. , n. ; new inn hall, boswell and johnson visit it, ii. ; johnson walks in the principal's garden, ii. , n. ; _olla podrida_, iv. , n. ; oriel college, common-room filled on gilbert white's visits, ii. , n. ; provost assisted to bed by his butler, ii. , n. ; oseney abbey, johnson views its ruins with indignation, i. ; paoli visits it, v. i, n. ; parker, sackville, the bookseller, iv. ; parks, i. ; pembroke college, ale-house near the gate, iii. ; barton, mr. a. t., fellow and tutor, v. , n. ; blue-stocking party, iv. , n. ; butler, i. ; buttery-books, ii. , n. ; camden's latin grace, v. , n. ; caution-book, i. , n. ; chapel, i. , n. ; common-room, johnson's games at draughts, ii. ; his portrait, iv. , n. ; declamations, i. , n. ; edwards, oliver, iii. - , ; eminent members, i. ; gateway, i. ; gaudy, i. , n. , , n. ; johnson enters, i. ; leaves, i. ; length of his residence, ib., n. ; eulogium on it, i. , nn. and ; first exercise, i. ; iv. ; first visit in , i. ; and boswell visit it in , ii. ; johnson in , iv. , n. ; and boswell in june, , iv. ; v. ; last visit (nov. ), iv. ; 'nowhere so happy,' ib., n. ; 'a frolicksome fellow,' i. ; meets dr. price, iv. , n. , ; neglected by the master, i. ; rooms, i. , , n. ; shows it to hannah more, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; library, johnson presents it with his _works_, i. ; johnson's _tracts_, ii. , n. ; _politian_, iv. , n. ; masters, dr. panting, i. ; dr. radcliffe, i. ; dr. adams: see under dr. adams; life in the master's house, iv. ; _manuscripts_, i. , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. , , n. ; members in residence, i. , n. ; 'nest of singing birds,' i. ; iv. , n. ; november kept with solemnity, i. ; '_pembrochienses voco ad certamen poeticum_, i. , n. ; property bequeathed to it, iii. ; residence, length of, i. , n. ; saturday weekly themes, i. , n. ; sconces, i. , n. ; servitors, i. , n. ; weekly bills, i. , n. ; whitefield a servitor, i. , n. , , n. ; population in , iii. ; post coach, boswell, johnson and gwynn ride in it, ii. ; iii. ; boswell and johnson, iv. ; 'prologue spoken before the duke of york at oxford,' ii. ; queen's college, jacobite singing, i. , n. ; lancaster, dr., the provost, i. , n. ; radcliffe library, opening, i. , n. ; wise, francis, the librarian, i. , n. ; radcliffe's travelling-fellowships, iv. ; residence required in , iii. , n. ; rewley abbey, johnson views its ruins with indignation, i. ; riding school projected, ii. ; secker's variation of 'church and king,' iv. ; servitors, hunted, i. , n. ; employed in transcription, i. ; advantages of servitorships, v. ; sheldonian theatre, johnson present at the instalment of the chancellor, i. , n. ; st. edmund's hall, expulsion of methodists, ii. , n. ; st. john's college, vicesimus knox, iii. , n. ; st. mary's church, johnson joins there a grand procession, i. , n. ; sermon on his death, iv. ; panting's, dr., sermon, i. , n. ; whitefield receives the sacrament, i. , n. ; st. mary's hall, principals--dr. king, i. , n. ; dr. nowell, iv. ; story, the quaker, describes the undergraduates in , i. , n. . trinity college, beauclerk, topham, i. ; boswell and johnson call on t. warton, ii. ; johnson speaks of taking up his abode there, i. ; gives baskerville's _virgil_ to the library, ii. ; langton enters, i. , n. , ; presidents--dr. huddesford, i. , n. ; dr. kettel, i. , n. ; walmsley, gilbert, enters, i. , n. ; warton, thomas, a fellow, i. , n. ; wise, francis, a fellow, i. , n. ; university college, boswell and johnson call there in , ii. - ; dine on st. cuthbert's day, ii. ; dine with the master, iv. ; chapel at six in the morning, ii. , n. ; common room, johnson's dispute in it with dr. mortimer, ii. , n. ; his three bottles of port, iii. ; his portrait, ii. , n. ; inscription on it, iii. , n. ; coulson, rev. mr., v. , n. ; johnson seen there by a welsh schoolmaster, v. ; portraits of distinguished members, ii. , n. ; scott, william, tutor, iv. , n. ; wetherell, dr., the master: see under wetherell, dr.; university, described by r. west in , i. , n. ; by dr. knox in , iii. , n. ; iv. , n. l; worst time about , ii. , n. ; university verses, ii. ; vacation, long, i. , n. ; worcester college, foote and dr. gower, ii. , n. . oxfordshire, contested election of , i. , n. . p. packwood, warwickshire, i. , n. . padua, johnson has a mind to go to it, i. ; iii. ; goldsmith went to it, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. . pain bodily pain easily supported, i. , n, ; violent pain of mind must be severely felt, ii. . painters, the reputation of, iii. , n. . painting, inferior to poetry, iv. ; labour not disproportionate to effect, ii. ; styles, iii. : see under johnson, painting. palaces, ii. . palatines, the, iii. . palestine, v. , n. . paley, archdeacon, attacks gibbon, v. , n. ; bishop law's love of parentheses, iii. , n. ; on the right to the throne, v. - . palmer, john, _answer to dr. priestley_, iii. , n. . palmer, miss, sir joshua reynolds's niece, iv. , n. . palmer, rev. t. f., dines with johnson, iv. ; transported for sedition, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . _palmerin of england_, i. , n. . _palmerino d' inghilterra_, iii. . palmerston, second viscount, literary club, member of the, i. ; black-balled, iv. ; elected, ib., n. , ; his respectable pedigree, i. , n. . palmerston, third viscount (the prime-minister), birth, iv. , n. . subscribes to an annuity for johnson's god-daughter, iv. , n. . palmyra, iv. . _pamphlet_, defined, iii. . panckoucke, i. . pandour, a., v. . panegyrics, iii. . pantheon, account of it, ii. , n. ; boswell and johnson visit it, ii. , . panting, rev. dr. matthew, i. . 'panting time,' iv. . pantomimes, i. , n. . paoli, general, account of him, ii. ; auchinleck, lord, described by, v. , n. ; beattie, johnson and wilkes, describes, iv. ; boswell, beautiful attention to, iii. , n. ; dedicates his _corsica_ to him, ii. , n. ; v. ; describes, to miss burney, i. , n. ; exact record of his sayings, ii. , n. ; his guest in london, ii. , n. ; iii. ; visits him in corsica, ii. , , n. ; makes himself known to him, i. , n. ; and the _omnia vanitas_, iv. , n. ; repeats anecdotes to him, i. , n. ; sends him some books, ii. ; vows sobriety to him, ii. , n. ; death kept out of sight, iii. ; dinners at his house, ii. , , ; iii. , , , , - ; iv. (johnson loves to dine with him, ib.); drinks to the great vagabond, iii. , n. ; england, arrives in, ii. ; goldsmith, compliments, ii. ; _good-natured man_, mentioned in, ii. , n. ; _histoire de pascal paoli_, par arrighi, ii. , n. ; homer, antiquity of, iii. ; house in south audley street, iii. ; infidelity, ii. , n. ; johnson's description of his port, ii. ; funeral, at, iv. , n. ; introduction to him, ii. , ; voracious appetite, iv. ; languages, knowledge of, ii. , n. ; marriage, state of, ii. ; mediterranean a subject for a poem, iii. ; melancholy, remedy for, ii. , n. ; pension, ii. , n. ; scotland, visits, v. , n. , , n. ; sense of touch, ii. ; stewart's mission to him, ii. , n. ; subordination and the hangman, i. , n. ; successful rebels and the arts, ii. ; tasso, repeats a stanza of, iii. ; torture, uses, i. , n. ; wales, visits, v. , ; walpole's account of him, ii. ; v. , n. ; warley camp, visits, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iii. , ; iv. , . _papadendrion_, iii. . papier machÉ, v. . papists. see roman catholics. _papyrius cursor_, iv. . paracelsus, ii. , n. . paradise, john, account of him, iv. , n. ; johnson and priestley meet at his house, iv. ; johnson's letter to him, iv. ; mentioned, i. ; iii. , n. , ; iv. , n. , , . paradise, peter, iv. , n. . _paradise lost. see_ milton. parental tyranny, i. , n. ; iii. . parentheses, a pound of them, iii. , n. ; johnson disapproves of their use, iv. . paris and suburbs, account of them in johnson's journal, ii. - ; austin nuns, ii. ; _avantcoureur_, ii. ; bastille, ii. ; 'beastliest town in the universe,' ii. , n. ; beer and brewers, ii. ; benedictine friars, ii. , . , , ; iii. ; iv. ; boulevards, ii. ; chairs made of painted boards, ii. ; chambre de question, ii. ; chatlois (châtelet), hôtel de, ii. , ; choisi, ii. ; colosseum, ii. ; conciergerie, ii. , n, ; court at fontainebleau, ii. ; its slovenliness, ii. ; at versailles, v. ; courts of justice, ii. , ; _École militaire_, ii. , ; _enfans trouvés_, ii. ; fathers of the oratory, ii. ; fire first lighted on oct. , ii. ; foot-ways, ii. , n. ; gobelins, ii. ; v. ; grand chartreux, ii. ; grêve, ii. ; hebrides, in novelties inferior to the, ii. ; horses and saddles, ii. ; hospitals, ii. ; johnson saw little society, ii. ; killed, number of people, ii. ; library, king's, ii. ; _london_, mentioned in, i. ; looking-glass factory, ii. ; louvre, ii. ; low parisians described by mrs. piozzi, v. , n. ; luxembourg, ii. ; mean people only walk, ii. ; meudon, ii. ; observatory, ii. ; _palais bourbon_, ii. , ; _palais marchand_, ii. , ; _palais royal_, ii. ; payments, ii. ; , ; _place de vendôme_, ii. ; _pont tournant_, ii. ; revival of letters, iii. ; roads near paris empty, ii. ; sansterre's brewery, ii. ; _sellette_, ii. ; sentimentalists, iii. , n. ; sevres, ii. , ; shops, mean, ii. ; sinking table, ii. ; society, compared with london for, iii. ; sorbonne, ii. , ; v. ; st. cloud, ii. ; st. denis, ii. ; st. eustatia, ii. ; st. germain, ii. ; st. roque, ii. ; sundays, ii. ; _tournelle_, ii. ; trianon, ii. ; tuilleries, ii. , ; iv. , n. ; university, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; _valet de place_, ii. . _parisenus and parismenus_, iv. , n. . parish, co-extensive with the manor, ii. ; compels men to find security for the maintenance of their family, iii. ; election of ministers, ii. ; neglected ones, iii. . parish-clerks, iv. . parker, chief baron, i. , n. . parker, john, of browsholme, v. . parker, sackville, the oxford book-seller, iv. . parliament, awed the press, i. ; corruption alleged, iii. ; crown influence, ii. ; debates: see debates; disadvantages of a seat, iv. ; dissolution: see under house of commons; duration immaterial, ii. ; bill for shortening it,_ ib., n_. ; iii. ; duration of parliaments from to , v. , n. ; governing by parliamentary corruption, ii. ; highlander's notion of one, v. ; houses of commons and of lords: see under house of commons and house of lords; johnson projects an historical account, i. ; suggested as a member, ii. - ; larger council, a, ii. ; long parliament, ii. ; members free from arrest by a bailiff, iv. , n. ; pitt's motion for reform, iv. , n. ; speakers and places, iv. ; speeches, effect produced by, iii. - ; upstarts getting into it, ii. ; use of it, ii. . _parliamentary history_, johnson's _debates_, i. , ; prosecution of whitehead and dodsley, i. , n. . _parliamentary journals_, i. . parlour, company for the, ii. , n. . parnell, rev. dr. thomas, contentment, iii. , n. ; drank too freely, iii. ; iv. , n. , ; goldsmith writes his _life_, ii. ; _hermit_, a disputed passage in his, iii. , - ; johnson writes his epitaph, iv. ; v. ; and his _life_, iv. ; milton, compared with, v. ; _night piece_, ii. , n. . parodies, johnson's parodies of ballads, ii. , n. , , n. ; parodies of johnson: see under johnson, style. parr, rev. dr. samuel, describes himself as the second grecian in england, iv. , n. ; johnson, argues with, iv. ; character, describes, iv. , n. ; epitaph, writes, iv. - , - ; _life_, thinks of writing, iv. ; latin scholarship, praises, iv. , n. ; reputation, defends, iv. ; writes him a letter of recommendation, iv. , n. ; neglected at cambridge, i. , n. ; priestley, defends, iv. , n. , ; romilly, letter to, iv. , n. ; sheridan's system of oratory, i. , n. ; steevens, character of, iii. , n. ; _tracts by warburton_, &c., iv. , n. ; white's _bampton lectures_, iv. . parrhasius, iv. , n. . parsimony, quagmire of it, iii. ; timorous, iv. ; wretchedness, iii. . parson, the life of a. see clergymen. parsons, the impostor in the cock lane ghost, i. , n. . partney, ii. . party, burke's definition, ii. , n. ; sticking to party, ii. ; v. . pascal, johnson gives boswell _les pensees_, iii. ; read by hannah more, iv. , n. . _passenger_, iv. , n. . passion-week. see johnson, passion-week. passions, purged by tragedy, iii. . _pastern_, defined, i. , . _pastor fido_, iii. . patagonia, v. . _pater noster_, the, v. . paternity, its rights lessened, iii. . paterson, samuel, ii. ; iii. ; iv. , n. . paterson, a student of painting, iii. ; iv. , n. , . _paterson against alexander_, ii. . patrick, bishop, iii. . _patriot, the_, by johnson, account of it, ii. , ; written on a saturday, i. , n. ; election-committees described, iv. , n. . _patriot, the_, a tragedy by j. simpson, iii. . _patriot king_, i. , n. . patriotism, last refuge of a scoundrel, ii. . patriots, defined, iv. , n, ; dilly's 'patriotic friends,' iii. , ; 'don't let them be patriots,' iv. ; patriotic groans, iii. . patronage, church, ii. - ; rights of patrons, ii. . patrons, of authors, iv. ; defined, i. , n. ; harmful to learning, v. ; mentioned in the _rambler_, i. , n. ; _letter to chesterfield_, i. ; _vanity of human wishes_, i. . patten, dr., iv. . pattison, mark, general oglethorpe, i. , n. ; oxford in , ii. , n. ; bishop warburton, v. , n. . paul, father. see sarpi. paul, sir g.o., v. , n. . pausanias, v. . pavia, ii. , n. . payne, mr. e.j., defends burke's character, iii. , n. ; describes his love of virgil, iii. , n. . payne, john, account of him, i. , n. ; ivy lane club, member of the, iv. ; johnson's friend in , i. ; publishes the first numbers of _the idler_, i. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . payne, william, i. . pearce, zachary, bishop of rochester, johnson, sends etymologies to, i. ; iii. ; writes the dedication to his posthumous works, iii. ; wishes to resign his bishopric, iii. , n. ; mentioned, i. . pearson, john, bishop of chester, edits hales's _golden remains_, iv. , n. ; johnson recommends his works, i. . pearson, rev. mr., ii. ; iv. , . peatling, i. , n. . peers, creations by pitt, iv. , n. ; influence in the house of commons, v. ; interference in elections, iv. , ; judges, as, iii. ; temple's proposed reform, ii. . see house of lords. pekin, v. . pelew islands, v. , n. . pelham, fanny, iii. , n. . pelham, right hon. henry, garrick's _ode on his death_, i. ; pensions guthrie, i. , n. ; whiggism under him and his brother, ii. . pelisson, i. , n. . pellet, dr., iii. . pembroke, eighth earl of, 'lover of stone dolls,' ii. , n. . pembroke, tenth earl of, boswell visits him, ii. ; iii. , n. ; johnson's _bow-wow_ way, describes, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; author of _military equitation_, v. . penance in churches, v. . penelope, v. . penguin, v. . penitence, gloomy, iii. . penn, governor richard, iii. , n. . pennant, thomas, bâch y graig, v. , n. ; bears, ii. ; bolt court and johnson, mentions in his _london_, iii. - ; fort george described, v. ; rents racked in the hebrides, v. , n. ; _tour in scotland_, praised by johnson, iii. , , , , v. ; censured by percy, iii. ; and boswell, iii. ; v. ; voltaire, visits, i. , n. ; a whig, iii. - ; v. . pennington, colonel, v. , . penny-post. see post. penrith, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . _pensioner_, defined, i. , n. , - . pensions, defined, i. , - ; french authors, given to, i. , n. ; george iii's system, ii. ; johnson, conferred on, i. - ; not for life, i. , n. ; ii. ; nor for future services, i. , n. , ; ii. ; not increased after his _pamphlets_, ii. , ; proposed addition, iv. - , - , - ; - ; attacked, i. , , ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. ; in parliament, iv. ; beauclerk's quotation in reference to it, i. ; effect of it on johnson's work, i. , n. ; on his travelling, iii. ; effect had it been granted earlier, iv. ; entry in the exchequer order book, i. , n. ; 'out of the usual course,' iv. ; johnson unchanged by it, i. ; strahan his agent in receiving it, ii. . penurious gentleman, a, iii. . people, the judges afraid of the, v. . pepys, sir lucas, iv. , , . pepys, samuel, lord orrery's plays, v. , n. ; spring garden, iv. , n. ; tea, i. , n. . pepys, william weller, _account of him_, iv. , n. ; johnson, attacked by, iv. , n. ; over-praised by mrs. thrale, iv. ; attacked again, iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iii. . _perce-forest_, iii. , n. . perceval, lord (second earl of egmont), i. ; iv. , n. . perceval, lady catharine, v. , n. . percy, earl, iii. , - . percy, dr. thomas, dean of carlisle, afterwards bishop of dromore, alnwick, at, ii. ; anecdotes, full of, v. ; boswell, letter to, i. ; dean of carlisle, made, iii. ; 'very _populous_' there, iii. , ; death, on parting with his books in, iii. ; dinner at his house, iii. ; dyer, samuel, describes, iv. , n. ; easton maudit, rector of, i. ; iii. ; goldsmith and the duchess of northumberland, ii. , n. ; epitaph, settles the dates in, iii. ; lodgings, i. , n. ; quarrels with, iii. , n. ; visionary project, iv. , n. ; grainger's character, draws, ii. , n. ; reviews his _sugar-cane_, i. ; admires it, ii. , n. ; '_grey rat, the history of the_' ii. ; hawkins, draws the character of, i. , n. ; heir male of the ancient percies, iii. ; _hermit of warkworth_, ii. ; johnson attacks him about dr. mounsey, ii. ; about percy's calling him short-sighted, iii. - ; percy's uneasiness, iii. ; boswell's friendly scheme, iii. - ; at variance for the third time iii. n. ; conversation, iii. ; first visit to goldsmith, i. , n. ; garrick's awe and ridicule of, i. , n. ; method in writing his _dictionary_, i. , n. ; parodies his poems, ii. , n. ; , n. ; praises him in a letter to boswell, iii. , ; projected _life of goldsmith_, iii. , n. ; questions his daughter about _pilgrim's progress_, ii. , n. ; serves him in his _ancient ballads_, iii. , n. ; visits him, i. , ; _vision of theodore_, i. ; levett, account of, iii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. , n. , ; loses by a fire, iii. ; neglected parishes, iii. ; newport school, at, i. , n. ; _northern antiquities_, iii. ; pennant, attacks, iii. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; _reliques_, quoted, iv. , n. ; _spectator_, projects an edition of the, ii. , n. ; wolf, is writing the history of the, ii. ; mentioned, i. , , n. ; ii. , l , . n. ; iii. ; iv. , , , n. . _peregrinity_, v. . perfection, to be aimed at, iv. . periodical bleeding, iii. . perkins, mr.. account of him, ii. , n. ; johnson's letters to him. see johnson, letters; likeness in his counting-house, ii. , n. ; manager of thrale's brewery, iv. , , n. ; mountebanks, on, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. . perks, thomas, i. , n. . perreau, the brothers, ii. , n. . persecution, the test of religious truth, ii. ; iv. . persecutions, the ten, ii. . perseverance, i. . persian empire, iii. . _persian heroine, the_, iv. . persian language, iv. . _persian letters_, i. , n. . persius, quotations, _sat_. i. , iv. , n. ; _sat_. i. , v. , n. . personage, a great, i. ; v. , n. . perth, duke of, chancellor of scotland, iii. . peruvian bark, i. ; iv. . peter the great, worked in a dockyard, v. . peter pamphlet, i. , n. . _peter pindar_, v. , n. . peterborough, charles mordaunt, earl of, iv. . peters, mr., dr. taylor's butler, ii. . pether or peffer, an engraver, iii. , n. . petitions, dodd's case, iii. ; how got up, ii. , n. ; johnson on petitioning, ii. ; iii. , ; middlesex election, ii. ; mode of distressing government, ii. . petrarch, _aeglogues_, i. , n. ; read by johnson, i. , , n. ; iv. , n. . petty, sir william, allowance for one man, i. ; employment of the poor, iv. ; _quantulumcunque_, i. , n. . petworth, iv. . peyne, mr., of pembroke college, i. , n. . peyton, mr., johnson's amanuensis, i. ; ii. ; death, ii. , n. . phaeax, iii. , n. . phallick mystery, iii. . pharaoh, ii. . pharmacy, simpler than formerly, iii. . philidor, the musician, iii. . _philip ii, history of_, by watson, v. . philipps, sir erasmus, _diary_, i. , n. , , n. . philipps, sir john, v. . philipps, lady, v. . philips, ambrose, blackmore's _creation_, describes the composition of, ii. , n. ; _distressed mother_, i. , n. ; _life_ by johnson, iv. ; _namby pamby_, called by pope, i. , n. ; 'seems a wit,' i. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . philips, c. c., a musician, his epitaph, i. ; ii. ; v. . philips, john, _cyder_, a poem, v. . philips, miss (mrs. crouch), iv. . philips, mr., one of johnson's old friends, iv. . philosophers, ancient philosophers disputed with good humour, iii. ; edwards tries to be one, iii. ; also white, ib., n. ; french philosophers, ib. philosophical necessity, iii. , n. . philosophical society, iv. , n. . _philosophical survey of the south of ireland_, ii. ; iv. , n. . _philosophical transactions_, i. ; ii. , n. . philosophical wise man, ii. . phipps, captain, v. , , n. . phocylidis, v. . phoenician language, iv. . physic, a science and trade, iii. , n. ; irregular practisers in it, iii. : see under johnson, physic. physician, a foppish one, iv. ; history of an unfortunate one, ii. ; one recommended by dr. taylor, ii. ; one not sober for twenty years, iii. ; one who lost his practice by changing his religion, ii. . physicians, ancients failed, moderns succeeded, iii. , n. ; bag-wigs, wore, iii. ; _fortune of physicians_, i. , n. ; hogarth's pictures of one, iii. , n. ; intruders, do not love, ii. , n. ; johnson celebrates their beneficence, iv. ; has pleasure in their company, iv. ; esteems them, v. ; his conversation compared to the practice of one, ii. ; title: see under dr. memis. piazzas, v. . pickles, ii. . _pickwick_, story of the man who ate crumpets, iii. , n. . pieresc, his death and papers, ii. . piety, comparative piety of women and wicked fellows, iv. ; crazy piety, ii. . _piety in pattens_, ii. , n. . pig, a learned, iv. . _pilgrim's progress_, fearing and the screen, i. , n. ; fearing and death, iv. , n. ; johnson praises it highly, ii. ; wishes it longer, i. , n. . piling arms, iii. . pilkington, james, _present state of derbyshire_, iii. , n. . pillory, how far it dishonours, iii. ; 'a place or the pillory,' iv. , n. ; parsons of the cock lane ghost set in it, i. , n. . _pindar_, johnson asks boswell to get him a copy, ii. ; receives it, ii. ; west's translation, iv. . pink, dr., i. , n. . pinkerton, john, iv. . pino, ii. , n. . piozzi, signor, account of him, iv. , n. ; attacked by baretti, iii. , n. ; thrale, mrs., attached to him, iv. , n. ; marries him, ii. , n. ; iv. . piozzi, mrs. see thrale, mrs. _piozzi letters_. see under mrs. thrale, johnson's letters to her. _pit_, to, iii. . pitcairne, archibald, v. . pitt, william. see chatham, earl of. pitt, william, the son, boswell, neglects, iii. , n. , ; iv. , n. ; letter to him, iv. , n. ; his answer, ib.; called to order, iv. , n. ; fox a political apostate, calls, iv. , n. ; compared with, iv. ; honesty of mankind, on the, iii. , n. ; johnson's pension, proposed addition to, iv. , n. ; macaulay, attacked by, ib.; ministry, his, iv. , n. , , n. , , n. ; motion for reform of parliament, iv. , n. ; tax on horses, v. . pitts, rev. john, iv. , n. . pity, not natural to man, i. . place-hunters, iii. . places of public entertainment, v. , n. . plague of london, dr. hodges, ii. , n. . plaids, v. . _plain dealer_, i. , , n. , . _plan of the dictionary_. see _dictionary_. planta, joseph, ii. , n. . plantations (settlements), ii. . planters. see america, planters. planting trees, johnson recommends, iii. . see scotland, trees. plassey, battle of, v. , n. . plautus, quoted, i. , n. . plaxton, rev. g., i. , n. . players, action of all tragic players is bad, v. ; below ballad-singers, iii. ; camden's, lord, familiarity with garrick, iii. ; change in their manners, i. ; churchill's lines on them, i. , n. ; collier's censure, i. , n. ; dancing-dogs, like, ii. ; declamation too measured, ii. , n. ; drinking tea with a player, v. ; emphasis wrong, i. ; 'fellow who claps a hump on his back,' iii. ; 'fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling,' ii. ; johnson's prejudice against them shown in the _life of savage_, i. ; _life of dryden_, ib., n. ; more favourable judgment, i. ; iv. , n. ; lawyers, compared with, ii. ; past compared with present, v. ; puritans, abhorred by, i. , n. ; reynolds defends them, ii. ; transformation into characters, iv. - ; whitehead's compliment to garrick, i. . see garrick, profession. pleased with oneself, iii. . pleasing, negative qualities please more than positive, iii. . pleasure, aim of all our ingenuity, iii. ; happiness, compared with, iii. ; harmless pleasure, iii. ; monastic theory of it, iii. ; in itself a good, iii. ; no man a hypocrite in it, iv. ; partakers in it, iii. ; 'public pleasures counterfeit,' iv. , n. . _pleasures of the imagination_. see akenside, mark. _pledging oneself_, iii. . pliny, v. . plott, robert, _history of staffordshire_, iii. . plowden, iv. . _plum_, defined, iii. , n. . plunket, w. c. (afterwards lord), ii. , n. . plutarch, _alcibiades_ quoted, iii. , n. ; apophthegms and _memorabilia_, v. ; biography, i. ; euphranor and parrhasius, iv. , n. ; monboddo follows him in the approval of slavery, v. , n. ; _solon_ quoted, iii. . plymouth, french ships of war in sight, iii. , n. ; johnson visits it, i. ; hates a 'docker,' i. ; mentioned, iv. . plympton, iv. . pocock, dr. edward, the orientalist, iii. , n. ; iv. . pocock, mr., catalogue of sale of autographs, ii. , n. . pococke, richard, _travels_, ii. . poems, preserved by tradition, ii. ; temporary ones, iii. . poet-laureates, i. , n. . _poetical calendar_, i. . _poetical review of the literary and moral character of dr. johnson_. see courtenay, john. poetry, devotional, iii. , n. ; iv. ; mediocrity in it, ii. ; modern imitators of the early poets, ii. , ; iii. - ; translated, cannot be, iii. , ; what is poetry? iii. . poets, collection of all the english poets proposed, iii. ; english divided into four classes, i. , n. ; fundamental principles, knowledge of, iii. ; preserve languages, iii. ; rarity, their, v. . _poets, lives of the_. see _lives of the poets_. _poets, the_, apollo press edition, iii. . poker club, ii, , n. , , n. . poland, hospitality to strangers, iv. ; johnson wishes to visit it, iii. . _polemo-middinia_, iii. . _polite philosopher, the_, iii. . politeness, 'fictitious benevolence,' v. ; its universal axiom, v. , n. . _politian_, i. ; iv. , n. . _political conferences_, iii. . political improvement, schemes of, ii. . _political survey of great britain_, ii. . _political tracts by the author of the rambler_, ii. ; copy in pembroke college, ib., n. ; attacked, ii. - ; preface to it suggested, ii. . politics, modern, devoid of all principle, ii. ; in the seventeenth century, ii. . 'poll,' miss carmichael, iii. . _polluted_, iv. , n. . polybius, ii. . polygamy, v. , . polypheme, i. . polyphemus, v. , n. . pomfret, john, johnson adds him to the _lives_, iii. ; his _choice_, ib., n. . _pomponius mela de situ orbis_, i. . _pomposo_, i. . pondicherry, v. , n. . ponsonby, hon. mr., v. . poor, cannot agree, ii. ; condition of them the national distinction, ii. ; deaths from hunger in london, iii. ; education, ii. , n. : see under state; employment under the poor-law, iv. ; france, in, ii. ; 'honour, have no,' iii. ; injured by indiscriminate hospitality, iv. ; provision for them, ii. ; rich, at the mercy of the, v. ; superfluous meat for them, v. . pope, alexander, addison's 'familiar day,' iv. , n. ; adrian's lines, translation of, iii. , n. ; _beggar's opera_, his expectation about the, ii. , n. ; benson's monument to milton, v. , n. ; blair, anecdotes of him by, iii. - ; bleeding, advised to try, iii. , n. ; blount, martha, i. , n. . bolingbroke's present to booth, v. , n. ; bolingbroke's enmity, i. ; bolingbroke, lady, described by, iii. ; 'borrows for want of genius,' v. , n. ; budgell, eustace, ii. , n. ; _characters of men and women_, ii. ; cibber's _careless husband_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; condensing sense, art of, v. ; confidence in himself, i. , n. ; congreve, dedicates the _iliad_ to, iv. , n. ; conversation, iii. , n. ; iv. ; cooke, correspondence with, v. , n. ; cowley out of fashion, iv. , n. ; crousaz's _examen_, i. ; death, reflection on the day of his, iii. ; his death imputed to a saucepan, i. , n. ; death-bed confession, v. , n. ; dodsley, assisted, ii. , n. ; dryden, distinguished from, ii. , ; in his boyhood saw him, i. ; n. ; _dunciad_, annotators, its, iv. , n. ; concluding lines, ii. ; dennis's thunder, iii. , n. ; resentment of those attacked, ii. , n. ; written for fame, ii. ; _dying christian to his soul_, iii. ; _elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady_, i. n. ; epigram on lord stanhope attributed to him, iv. , n. ; _epitaph on mrs. corbet_, iv. , n. ; _epitaphs_, johnson's dissertation on his, i. ; _essay on criticism_, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _essay on man_, bolingbroke's share in it, iii. - ; warburton's comments, ii. , n. ; fame, his, said to have declined, ii. ; iii. ; female-cousin, his, iii. , n. ; fermor, mrs., describes him, ii. ; flatman, borrowed from, iii. ; friends, his, iii. ; iv. ; gentlemen, on the ignorance of, iv. , n. ; goldsmith's reflection on his 'strain of pride,' iii. , n. ; greek, knowledge of, iii. ; grotto, his, iv. ; verses on it, iv. ; happy, says that he is, iii. ; homer, his, attacked by bentley, iii. , n. ; and cowper, iii. , n. ; praised by johnson, iii. ; and gray, ib., n. ; his pretended reason for translating it into blank verse, ii. , n. ; written on the covers of letters, i. , n. ; _iliad_, written slowly, i. , n. ; _odyssey_, translated by the help of associates, iv. ; imitations, fondness for, i. , n. ; intimidated by prosecution of p. whitehead, i. , n. ; johnson criticises his _ode on st. cecilia's day_, iv. , n. ; defends him as a poet, iv. ; _dictionary_, apparently interested in, i. ; estimate of the _dunciad_, ii. , n. ; recommends, to lord gower, i. , n. , , ; to j. richardson, ib.; translates his _messiah_, i. , ; 'will soon be déterré,' i. ; ii. ; writes his _life_, iv. - ; labour his pleasure, ii. , n. ; laugh, did not, ii. , n. ; lewis's verses to him, iv. ; lintot, quarrels with, i. , n. ; lords, gave all his friendship to, iii. ; 'low-born allen,' v. , n. ; mallet paid to attack his memory, i. ; 'man never is but always to be blest' ii. ; marchmont's, earl of, anecdotes of him, iii. - , , ; pope's executor, iv. ; _memoirs of scriblerus_, v. , n. ; mill, his mind a, v. ; _miscellanies_, transplants an indecent piece into his, iv. , n. ; lines applicable to gibbon, ii. , n. ; 'modest foster,' iv. ; monument proposed in st. paul's, ii. ; 'narrow man, a,' ii. , n. ; 'nodded in company,' iii. , n. ; pamphlets against him, kept the, iv. ; 'paper-sparing,' i. ; papers left at his death, iv. , n. ; parents, behaviour to his, i. , n. ; parodied by i.h. browne, ii. , n. ; parsimony, i. , n. ; _pastorals_, ii. ; _patriot king_, clandestinely printed copies of the, i. , n. ; pensioners, satirises, i. ; philips, ambrose, attacks, i. , n. ; pleasure in writing, iv. , n. ; prendergast and sir john friend, ii. ; priests where a monkey is the god, ii. , n. ; prince of wales, repartee to the, iv. ; radcliffe's doctors, iv. , n. ; _rape of the lock_, ii. , n. ; reading, his, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; of the modern latin poets, i. , n. ; rich, anecdote of, iv. , n. ; ruffhead's _life of pope_, ii. ; settle, the city poet, iii. , n. ; _seventeen hundred and thirty-eight_, i. , n. , , , n. ; shakespeare, edition of, v. , n. ; spence at oxford, visits, iv. ; steele, letter to, iii. , n. ; swift, his prudent management for, iii. , n. ; swift's letter on parting with him, iii. ; theobald, revenge on, ii. , n. ; introduces him in the _dunciad_, iii. , n. ; tory and whig, called a, iii. ; tyburn psalm, iv. , n. ; tyrawley, lord, ii. , n. ; '_un politique_' &c., iii. ; valetudinarian, iii. , n. ; vanity, iii. , n. ; _verses on his grotto_, iv. ; latin translation, i. ; versification, ii. , n. ; iv. ; voltaire, i. , n. ; walpole's 'happier hour,' iii. , n. ; warburton at first attacks him, v. ; defends him, i. ; makes him a christian, ii. , n. ; made by him a bishop, ib.; ward the quack-doctor, iii. , n. ; warton's _essay_, i. ; ii. ; wit, definition of, v. , n. . pope, quotations, _dunciad_, i. , iv. , n. ; i. , iii. , n. ; i. , i. , n. ; i. , ii. , n. ; (first edition) iii. , v. , n. ; iii. , i. , n. ; iv. , i. , n. ; iv. , v. , n. ; iv. , iii. , n. ; iv. , v. , n. ; iv. , iii. , n. ; _eloisa to abelard_, i. , i. ; i. , v. , n. ; _epitaph on craggs_, iv. ; _essay on criticism_, i. , iii. ; i. , v. , n. ; i. , v. , n. ; _essay on man_, i. , iii. , n. ; i. , iv. , n. ; ii. , iii. , , n. ; ii. l , i. ; iii. , iv. , n. ; iv. , ii. , n. iv. , v. , n. ; iv. , iii. , n. ; iv. , iii. ; iv. , iii. ; n. l; iv. , iv. ; _moral essays_, i. , i. ; i. , iv. , n. ; ii. , i. ; iii. , iii. , n. ; iii. , i. ; iii. , i. , n. ; _prologue to addison's cato_, i. ; _satires, prologue_, l. , i. ; l. , i. , n. ; l. , i. , n. ; l. , ii. , n. ; l. , iii. ; l. , v. , n. ; . , ii. , n. ; _satires, epilogue, i. , iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; i. , iv. , n. ; i. , iii. , n. ; ii. , i. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; ii. , iii. , n. ; _imitations of horace, epistles_, i. vi. , ii. , n. ; i. vi. , ii. , n. ; i. vi. , iii. , n. ; ii. i. , v. , n. ; ii. i. , i. ; ii. i. , iv. , n. ; ii. i. , iii. , n. ; ii. i. , ii. , n. ; ii. ii. , iii. , n. ; ii. ii. , v. , n. ; ii. ii. , i. ; ii. ii. , i. , n. ; _satires_, ii. i. , iii. , n. ; ii. i. , iv. , n. ; ii. ii. , i. , n. ; _universal prayer_, iii. . pope, mrs., i. , n. . pope, dr. walter, iv. . popery. see roman catholics. popular elections, of the clergy, ii. . population, america, increase in, ii. ; changes in density, ii. - ; comparative population of counties in , i. , n. ; emigration, how far affected by, iii. - ; high convenience where it is large, v. . porson, richard, bentley not a scotchman, ii. , n. ; described by dr. parr, iv. , n. ; hawkins, sir j., ridicules, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; natural abilities, ii. , n. . port, family of, iii. . port, liquor for men, iii. ; iv. . port eliot, iv. . porter, endymion, v. , n. . porter, henry (mrs. johnson's first husband), birmingham mercer, i. ; family registry of births, &c., i. , n. ; insolvency, i. , n. ; mentioned, iv. . porter, captain (henry porter's son), i. , n. ; ii. . porter, ---- (henry porter's son), ii. ; iv. ; death, iv. . porter, sir james, iii. . porter, mrs. (afterwards mrs. johnson). see under johnson, mrs. porter, mrs., the actress, i. , ; iv. ; ib., n. . porter, miss lucy (henry porter's daughter and johnson's stepdaughter), birth, i. , n. ; boswell calls on her, ii. ; iii. , ; dodd's _convicts address_, reads, iii. , n. ; fortune, her, and house, ii. ; johnson's account of her, i. ; earlier letters to her, ii. , n. (for his letters, see under johnson, letters); feelings towards her, i. ; ii. , n. ; her feelings towards, ii. , ; memory, i. ; personal appearance, i. ; present to her of a box, ii. ; prologue to kelly's comedy, disowns, iii. , n. ; will, not in, iv. , n. ; mother's wedding-ring, does not value her, i. ; residence in lichfield, i. , , n. , , ; verses said to be addressed to her, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. , , n. , ; ii. ; iii. , ; iv. , . porter, a street-, johnson drives a load off his back, iv. . porter, johnson sends a present of, ii. , . porteus, beilby, bishop of chester (afterwards of london), boswell, attentive to, iii. , ; jenyns's, soame, conversion, i. , n. ; _life of secker_, iv. ; reverend fops, iv. ; sunday knotting, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , , . portland, third duke of, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . see coalition ministry. portland, dowager duchess of, iii. . portmore, lord, johnson's letter to him, iv. , n. . portraits, their chief excellence, v. ; portrait-painting, improper for women, ii. ; of johnson: see under johnson, portraits. portugal, iii. , . portugal pieces, iv. . portuguese, discovery of the indies, i. ; n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . possibilities, v. . post, brighton, to, iii. , n. ; double letters, i. , n. ; franking letters, iii. ; iv. , n. ; penny-post, i. , ; postage from lisbon, iii. ; to oxford, i. , n. . post-chaise, driving from, or to something, iii. , ; gibbon delights in them, ii. , n. ; also johnson, ii. ; if accompanied by a pretty woman, iii. ; in , v. , n. . post-horses, charge per mile, v. . posterity, prescribing rules to, ii. . pot, mr., iv. , n. . pott, rev. archdeacon, ii. . pott, mr., a surgeon, iv. . potter, robert, translation of aeschylus, iii. . poverty, 'all this excludes but one evil--poverty,' iii. ; arguments for it, i. ; a great evil, iv. , , , , , . powell, a clerk, iv. , n. . power, all power desirable, ii. ; despotic, iii. ; of the crown, ii. . powerscourt, lord, v. . practice. see principles. prague, iii. . praise, on compulsion, ii. ; extravagant, iii. ; iv. ; value of it, iv. , , n. . pratt, chief justice. see camden, lord. prayer, arguments against it, v. ; dead, for the, ii. ; efficacy, its, v. ; family prayer, v. ; form of prayer, v. ; hume on leechman's doctrine, v. , n. ; johnson designs a _book of prayers_, iv. , ; offered a large sum for one, iv. ; lies in prayers, iv. ; reasoning on its nature unprofitable, ii. . prayers, by johnson, against inquisitive and perplexing thoughts, iv. , n. ; before his last communion, iv. - ; before study, iii. ; before the study of law, i. ; chambers, catherine, for, ii. ; death of his wife, on the, i. ; _dictionary_, on beginning vol. ii. of his, i. ; easter day, , iii. ; engaging in politicks with h----, i. ; forgiveness for neglect of duties in married life, i. ; january , , i. ; new scheme of life, i. ; 'on my return to life,' i. , n. ; _rambler_, before the, i. ; repentance and pardon, for, iv. ; resolutions, on, i. ; study of philosophy, on the, i. ; trinity, the, invoked, ii. . _prayers and meditations_, johnson's, i. , n. ; ii. ; publication, iv. , n. . preachers, women, i. . preaching, above the capacity of the congregation, iv. ; plain language needed, i. ; ii. . _preceptor, the_, i. . preciseness, iv. . precocity, ii. . predestination, ii. . prefaces, johnson's talent for, i. . premier, i. , n. . premium-scheme, i. . prendergast (prendergrass), an officer, ii. , , n. . _presbyterian_, in the sense of _unitarian_, ii. , n. . presbyterians and presbyterianism, compared with church of rome, ii. ; differ from it chiefly in forms, ii. ; doctrine, ii. ; form of prayer, no, ii. ; frightened by popery, v. . prescience, of the deity, iii. . prescription of murder. see murder. _present state of england_, iv. . present time, never happy, ii. . present times, johnson never inveighed against them, iii. . press, awed by parliament as regards report of debates, i. ; iii. - ; iv. , n. ; complete freedom obtained, i. ; johnson attacks its liberty, ii. ; vindicates it, ib., n. ; discusses it with dr. parr, iv. , n. ; mansfield tries to stifle it, i. , n. ; law of libel, iii. , n. ; licentiousness, its, i. ; debate on it, iv. , n. ; prosecutions in , ii. , n. ; superfoetation, its, iii. . press-gangs, iii. . prestbury, v. , n. . prestick, ii. , n. . preston, iii. , n. . preston, sir charles, iv. . pretender, the young, account of his escape, v. - , ; dresses in women's clothes, v. ; at kingsburgh, v. , ; shoes, ib.; in rasay, v. , n. , - ; fears assassination, v. ; speaks of culloden, ib.; returns to sky, v. ; pretends to be a servant, v. , - ; his odd face, v. ; goes to mackinnon's country, v. ; to knoidart, v. ; reward offered for him, v. , , n. ; agitating a rebellion in , i. , n. ; base character, his, v. , n. ; charles iii, ii. ; derby, march to, iii. ; designation proper for him, v. , n. ; johnson sleeps in his bed, v. ; london, in, i. , n. ; v. , n. , ; voltaire's reflections on him, v. . price, archdeacon, v. . price, dr. richard account of him, iv. ; hume, dines with, ii. , n. ; johnson would not meet him, iv. , n. , ; london-born children, iv. . price, ----, a vain welsh scholar, v. . _prideauxs connection_, iv. . priestley, dr. joseph, boswell attacks him, iv. , n. , ; parr defends him, iv. , n. , ; discoveries in chemistry, iv. , n. , ; elwall's trial, account of, ii. , n. ; franklin praises his moderation, iv. ; gibbon and horsley attack him, iv. ; heberden, dr., a benefactor to him, iv. , n. ; house burnt by rioters, iv. , n. ; 'index-scholar,' iv. , n. ; johnson's estimate of his writings, iv. , n. ; interview with, iv. ; on the pronunciation of latin, ii. , n. ; mackintosh's character of him, iv. ; philosophical necessity, iii. , n. ; iv. - ; shelburne, lord, lives with, iv. , n. ; theological works, ii. . priests, enemies to liberty, v. , n. . prime minister, name and office, ii. ; n. ; not in johnson's _dictionary_, i. , n. ; no real one since walpole's time, ii. . primrose, lady, v. . prince, the bookseller, i. . prince frederick (brother of george iii), v. , n. , prince of wales, happiest of men, i. , n. ; iv. . prince of wales (frederick, father of george iii), generosity, shows, v. , n. i; mallet's dependence on him, i. , n. ; pope's repartee to him, iv. ; vane, anne, his mistress, v. , n. . prince of wales (george iii), v. , n. . prince of wales (george iv), boswell carries up an address to him, iv. , n. ; insolence, his, iv. , n. ; johnson pleased with his knowledge of the scriptures as a child, ii. , n. ; language as a young man, his, ib.; thurlow and sir john ladd, iv. , n. . princess of wales, dowager, (mother of george iii), presents to lord bute, iv. , n. . _prince titi_, ii. . _prince voltiger_, ii. . principle, goodness founded upon it, i. ; things founded on no principle, v. . principles, general, must be had from books, ii. . principles and practice, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. , . pringle, sir john, johnson could not agree with him, iii. ; v. , ; madness, on the cause of, iii. , n. ; president of the royal society, iii. , n. ; smith's _wealth of nations_, ii. ; mentioned, ii. , n. , ; iii. , , n. , ; v. . printer's devil, iv. . printers, keeping their coach, ii. ; wages of journeymen, ii. . printing, early printed books, v. ; effect on learning, iii. ; people without it barbarous, ii. . prior, sir james, johnson's projected _life of goldsmith_, iii. , n. . prior, matthew, amorous pedantry, iii. , n. ; _animula vagtila_, translation of, iii. , n. ; borrowing, instances of his, iii. ; _chameleon_, ii. , n. i; _despairing shepherd_, ii. , n. ; goldsmith republishes two of his poems, iii. , n. ; _gualterus danistonus ad amicos_, translation of, iii. , n. ; hailes, lord, censured by, iii. ; lady's book, a, iii. ; love verses, ii. ; 'my noble, lovely little peggy,' iii. , n. ; _paulo purganti_, iii. ; pitcairne, translation from, v. . prior park, v. , n. . prisons, johnson's praise of a good keeper, iii. . see under london, newgate, &c. pritchard, mrs., the actress, good but affected, v. ; _irene_, acted, i. ; in common life a vulgar idiot, iv. ; mechanical player, ii. ; mentioned, ii. . private conversation, iv. . prize-fighting, v. . prize verses, in the _gent. mag_., i. , n. , . prizes, money arising from, ii. , n. . _probationary odes for the laureateship_, a great personage, i. , n. ; boswell ridiculed, i. , n. ; and the two wartons, ii. , n. . probationer, cause of a, ii. . _probus britannicus_, i. . _procerity_, i. . _prodigious_, iii. , n. , ; v. , n. . profession, choice of one, v. ; misfortune not to be bred to one, iii. , n. ; time and mind given to one not very great, ii. . _profession, the_, iii. , n. . professional man, solemnity of manner, iv. . _profitable instructions, &c._, i. , n. . profusion, iii. . _progress of discontent_, i. , n. . _project, the_, iii. . _project for the employment of authors_, i. , n. . _prologue at the opening of drury lane theatre_, i. ; ii. ; iv. , . pronunciation, difficulty of fixing it, ii. ; irish, scotch, and provincial, ii. - . _properantia_, i. . property, depends on chastity, ii. ; permanent property, ii. . propitiation, doctrine of the, iv. ; v. . _proposals for printing bibliotheca harleiana_, i. . prose, english. see style. prosperity, vulgar, iii. . prospero, i. . prostitution, severe laws needed, iii. . protestant association, iii. , n. . protestantism, converts to it, ii. . providence, entails not an encroachment on his dominions, ii. , ; his hand seen in the breaking of a rope, v. ; a particular providence, iv. , n. . provisions, carrying, to a man's house, v. . _provoked husband, the, or the journey to london_, ii. , ; iv. . prudence, '_nullum numen,'_ &c., iv. . prussia, queen of, (the mother of frederick the great), iv. , n. . psalm , v. . psalmanazar, george, account of him, appendix a, iii. - ; arrives in london, iii. , ; at oxford, iii. , ; birth, education, and wanderings, iii. - ; writes his _memoirs_, iii. ; club in old street, his, iv. ; _complete system of geography_, article in the, iii. ; _description of formosa_, iii. ; hypocrisy, never free from, iii. ; - ; innes, dr., aided in his fraud by, i. ; invention of his name, iii. ; johnson sought after him, iii. ; respected him as much as a bishop, iv. ; _spectator_, ridiculed in the, iii. . publications, spurious, ii. . _publick advertiser_, i. ; ii. , n. , , n. , , n. . public affairs vex no man, iv. . see england. public amusements, ii. . _public dinners_, iv. , n. . public institutions, iii. . public judgment. see world. _public ledger_, iii. , n. . public life, eminent figure made in it with little superiority of mind, iv. . public ovens, ii. . public schools. see schools. public speaking, ii. , . _public virtue_, iv. . public worship, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . publishers. see booksellers. _pudding, meditation on a_, v. . puffendorf, corporal punishment, ii. ; _introduction to history_, iv. ; not in practice as a lawyer, ii. . pulpit, liberty of the, iii. , . pulsation, effect on life, iii. . pulteney, william. see bath, earl of. punch, bowl of, i. . punctuation, lyttelton's _history of henry ii_, iii. , n. . punic war, iii. , n. . punishment, eternal, iii. ; iv. . puns, 'dignifying a pun,' v. , n. . johnson's contempt for them, ii. ; iv. ; boswell's approval of them, ib.; one in _menagiana_, ii. . see under burke and johnson. punster, defined, ii. , n. . purcell, thomas, ii. . purgatorians, ii. . purgatory, ii. , . see middle state. putney, ii. . pye, henry james, poet laureate, i. , n. . pym, john, member of broadgates hall, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . pyramids of egypt, iii. . pythagorean discipline, iii. . q. quack doctors, iii. . quakers, boswell loves their simplicity, ii. ; johnson liked individual quakers, but not the sect, ii. ; on their objection to fine clothes, iii. , n. ; many a man a quaker without knowing it, ii. ; pennsylvanian quakers, vote of, iv. , n. ; proselyte, a young, iii. ; slavery, abolitionists of, ii. ; soldiers, clothing to the, iv. ; texts, literal interpretation of, iv. ; tythes and persecution inseparable, v. ; women preaching, i. . see under knowles, mrs. _qualifying a wrong_, iii. , n. . _qualitied_, iv. . quality, women of, iii. . _queen elizabeth's champion_, v. , n. . queen's arms club, iv. . queen's house library, ii. . queensberry, family of, iii. . queensberry, duke of, gay and the _beggar's opera_, ii. . queeny (miss thrale), iii. , n. ; v. . _quem deus vult perdere, &c_., ii. , n. ; iv. . questioning, ii. ; iii. , . quin, james, bath, praises, iii. , n. ; _beggar's opera_, anecdote of the, ii. ; falstaff, his, iv. , n. ; kings and january , v. , n. ; thomson, intimacy with, iii. , n. ; vanity, his, iii. . quintilian, iv. . quixote, don. see under cervantes. _quos deus null perdere, prius dementat_, ii. , n. ; iv. . quotation, the _parole_ of literary men, iv. . quotations, untraced, iv. . _quotidian_, v. - . r. rabelais, garagantua, iii. ; surpassed by johnson, ii. . _race, the_, by mercurius spur, esq., ii. . racine, 'goes round the world,' v. . rackstrow, colonel, of the trained bands, iv. . radcliffe, charles, his execution, i. . radcliffe, dr., master of pembroke college, i. . radcliffe, dr. john, travelling fellowships, iv. . radicals, iii. . raleigh, sir walter, autograph letter, i. ; birch edits his smaller pieces, i. ; execution, his, i. , n. ; johnson mentions his _works_ in the preface to his_ dictionary_, iii. , n. . ralph, james, _the champion_, i. , n. . _rambler_, account of it, i. - ; contributors, i. , , n. ; editions and sale, i. , , ; scotch edition, i. ; revision of collected edition, i. , n. ; publication, i. ; sale of a sixteenth-share, ii. , n. ; hastily written, i. ; iii. ; could be made better, iv. ; hints for essays, i. - ; origin of the name, i. ; style, i. ; club in an essex town incensed by it, i. ; friend, learning one's faults from a, iv. , n. ; garrick and prospero, i. ; 'hard words,' i. , n. ; index, iv. ; in italian, _il genio errante and il vagabondo_, iii. ; johnson's epitaph, quotation from it in, iv. ; gives a copy to edwards, iv. ; opinion of it, i. , n. ; thinks it 'too wordy,' iv. ; portrait prefixed, iv. , n. ; wife praises it, i. ; ladies strangely formal, i. ; langton admires it, i. ; last number, i. , ; lessons taught by it, i. ; mottoes translated, i. , n. , , ; murphy's translation from the french, i. ; _necessity of cultivating politeness_, v. , n. ; quotation in colonel myddelton's inscription, iv. ; russian translation, iv. ; shenstone, praised by, ii. ; suicide, supposed to recommend, iv. , n. ; virtuoso, description of a, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; young's, dr., copy, i. . _rambler, beauties of the_, i. . _raniblefs magazine_, i. . ramsay, allan, the elder, the poet, dedication to the countess of eglintoune, v. , n. ; _gentle shepherd_, ii. ; _highland laddie_, v. , n. . ramsay, allan, the son, the portrait-painter, death, iv. , n. , , n. ; dinners at his house, iii. - , - , - ; house in harley street, iii. , n. ; italy, visits, iii. ; iv. ; johnson loves him, iii. ; politeness, praises, iii. ; pope's poetry less admired than formerly, iii. ; select society, founds the, v. , n. ; 'there lived a young man' &c., quotes, iii. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. i, n. . ranby, john, _doubts on the abolition of the slave trade_, iii. . ranger, the character of, ii. . rank, its claims, iii. ; johnson's respect for it, i. , - ; morals of high people, iii. . ranke, professor, sixtus quintus, v. , n. raphael, johnson admires his pictures, ii. ; mentioned, i. , n. . rapturist, ii. , n. . rasay, the macleods of, account of them, v. , ; estates, v. , n. ; family happiness, v. ; league with the macdonalds, v. ; johnson compliments them in his _journey_, ii. ; they praise him, ib. rasay, john macleod, laird of, 'macgillichallum,' v. , n. ; his _carriage_, v. , , n. ; income, v. , n. ; patriarchal life, v. ; befriends the pretender, v. - ; johnson's mistake about the chieftainship, ii. , , , ; correspondence about it, v. - ; entertained by, ii. ; iv. ; v. , n. ; visits him, v. - , . rasay, old laird of, out in the ' , v. , , , . _rascal_, johnson's use of the term, iii. . _rasselas_, account of its publication, i. - ; date of its composition and publication, i. , n. , ; editions, first, i. , n, ; fifth, ii. , n. ; an american one, ii. ; origin of the name, i. , n. ; price paid for it, i. ; translations, i. ; ii. ; in french by baretti, ib., n. ; written in the evenings of one week to pay the expenses of johnson's mother's funeral, i. ; boswell's yearly reading, i. ; iii. ; made unhappy by it, iii. ; _candide_, compared with, i. ; iii. ; choice of life, ii. , n. l; civilisation, advantages of, ii. , n. ; europeans, the power of the, iv. ; gough square, written in, iii. , n. ; imlac and the great mogul, ii. , n. ; influence of places on the mind, v. , n. ; johnson reads it in , iv. ; _lobo's abyssinia_, partly suggested by, i. ; macaulay's, dr. j., _bibliography_, ii. , n. ; marriages, late, ii. , n. ; misery of life, the, iii. ; praise to an old man, i. , n. ; resolutions, ii. , n. ; retirement from the world, v. , nn. and ; scholar, the business of a, ii. , n. ; solitude of a great city, iii. , n. ; sorrow, the cure for, iii. ; spirits of the dead, i. ; travelling in europe, i. , n. ; _vanity of human wishes_, resemblance to the, i. . rat, grey or hanover, ii. ; 'now, muse, let's sing of rats,' ii. . rawlinson, dr., iv. . ray, john, british insects, ii. ; collection of north-country words, ii. ; _nomenclature_, ii. . ray, miss, iii. . raymond, s., ii. , n. . raynal, abbé, iv. - . reading, advice of an old gentleman, i. ; art, its, iv. ; boys should read any book they will, iii. ; iv. ; general amusement, iv. , n. ; hard reading, i. ; inclination to be followed, i. ; iii. , ; knowledge got by it compared with that got by conversation, ii. ; people do not willingly read, iv. ; reading books to the end, i. ; ii. ; iv. ; reading no more than one could utter, iv. ; snatches useful, iv. ; voltaire testifies to its increase in england, ii. , n. ; youth the season for plying books, i. . see johnson, reading. rebellion, natural to men, v. . rebellion of - , boswell's projected history of it, iii. ; would have to be printed abroad, ib.; cruelty shown to the rebels, i. ; effect on the _gent_. _mag_., i. , n. ; highlanders' wants, ii. ; johnson's occupation at the time, i. ; noble attempt, iii. . rebels, never friends to arts, ii. ; successful, ii. . _recollecting_, iv. . _recreations and studies of a country clergyman_, iv , n. . recruiting, iii. , n. . _recruiting officer_, iv. . recupero, signor, ii. , n. . _red coat_, v. . red sea, iii. , n. i, . redress for ridicule, v. . reed, isaac, aids johnson in the _lives_, iv. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; v. , n. . reed, john, iii. , n. . rees, dr., ii. , n. . refinement, in education, iii. . _reflections on a grave digging in westminster abbey_, ii. ; v. , n. . _reflections on the state of portugal_, i. . reformation, church revenues lessened, iii. ; freedom from bondage, iii. ; the light of revelation obscured upon political motives, ii. . reformers, why burnt, ii. . _regale_, iii. , n. ; v. , n. . regatta, iii. , n. . regicides, ii. . registration of deeds, iv. . _rehearsal, the_, ii. ; iv. . reid, andrew, iii. , n. . reid, professor thomas, meets johnson in glasgow, v. , ; _original principles_, his, i. ; scotticisms corrected by hume, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . reign of terror, i. , n. . reindeer, ii. . relations, a man's ready friends, v. ; in london, ii. . see friends, natural. religion, amount of religion in the country, ii. ; ancients not in earnest as to it, iii. ; balancing of accounts, iv. ; changing it, ii. ; iii. ; choosing one for oneself, iii. ; college jokers its defenders, iv. ; differences of opinion not much thought of, iv. ; general ignorance, iii. ; hard, made to appear, v. ; ignorance of the first notion, iv. ; joy in it, iii. ; particular places for it, iv. ; people with none, iv. ; perversions, ii. ; religious conversation banished, ii. ; state, to be regulated by the, ii. ; iv. ; unfitness of poetry for it, iii. , n. ; iv. . religious orders. see monastery. _remarks on dr. johnson's journey to the hebrides_, ii. , n. . _remarks on johnson's life of milton_, i. , n. . _remarks on the characters of the court of queen anne_, iv. , n. . _remarks on the militia bill_, i. . rembrandt, iii. . remedies, prescribing, ii. . _remembering_, distinguished from _recollecting_, iv. . _remonstrance, the_, ii. . _renegade_ defined, i. . rents, carried to a distance, iii. ; how they should be fixed, v. : paid in kind, iv. ; v. , n. . see landlords. repentance in dying, iv. . _republic of letters_, v. , n. . republics, respect for authority wanting, ii. . _republics_. see _respublicae elzevirianae_. reputation injured by spurious publications, ii. . resentment, iii. ; iv. . resolutions, rarely efficacious, ii. , . respect, not to be paid to an adversary, ii. ; v. . _respectable_, iii. , n. . _respublica hungarica_, ii. . _respublicae elzevirianae_, ii. , n. ; iii. . rest, man never at rest, iii. . restoration, ii. , ; v. . restraint, need of, iii. . resurrection of the body, iv. , . _retirement_, ii. , n. . retirement, from the world, v. ; its vices, ib., n. . retiring from business, ii. ; iii. , n. . retreat, cheap, few places left, ii. . _retreat of the ten thousand_, iv. . revelation, attacks on it excite anger, iii. . _revelation, book of_, ii. . reverence, for government impaired, iii. ; general relaxation of it, iii. . reviews and reviewers, acknowledgments to them improper, iv. ; defiance, to be set at, v. ; _monthly_ and _critical_ impartial, iii. ; attack each other, ib., n. ; payment for articles, iv. ; well-written, iii. . see _critical_ and _monthly reviews_. _revisal of shakespeare's text_, i. , n. . _revolution_, defined, i. , n. . revolution of , could not be avoided, ii. ; iii. ; iv. , , n. ; _lilliburlero_, ii. ; reverence for government impaired by it, iii. ; iv. ; v. ; writing against it got shebbeare the pillory and a pension, ii. , n. . revolution society, the, iv. . revolutions, 'happy revolutions,' ii. . rewley abbey, i. . reynolds, miss, barnard's verses on johnson, iv. - ; coolness with her brother, i. , n. ; irresolution, her, i. , n. ; johnson's affection for her, i. , n. ; bequest to her, iv. , n. ; and the cotterells, i. , n. ; dress and study, i. , n. ; and garagantua, iii. ; and hannah more, iii. ; iv. , n. ; letters to her, i. , n. ; portrait, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. , , n. ; miniatures, paints, i. ; oil-painting, ib., n. ; iv. , n. ; montagu, mrs., paints, iii. ; politician, no, ii. , n. ; purity of mind, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , , - , , . reynolds, sir joshua, abington's, mrs., benefit, ii. ; abused in a newspaper, iv. ; academy, influence in the, iv. , n. ; amusement is the great end of all employments, ii. ; a key to character, iv. ; associates with men of all principles, iii. ; baretti's ignorance, gives an instance of, v. , n. ; is a witness at his trial, ii. , n. ; barry quarrels with him, iv. , ; beattie, portrait of, v. , n. ; v. , n. ; books, judgments on, iii. ; boswell, bequest to, i. , n. ; first acquaintance with, i. , n. ; gives johnson's portrait to, i. ; letter from, iv. , n. ; _life of johnson_, has a leaf cancelled in, ii. , n. ; portrait, paints, i. , n. ; visits, when ill, iii. ; burke's echo, ii. , n. ; and johnson on bacon's essays, iii. , n. ; too much under, iii. ; wit, v. , n. ; cambridge, mr., dines with, ii. ; camden's, lord, portrait, ii. , n. ; _cecilia_, iv. , n. ; character drawn by burke, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; colouring in conversation, iv. ; conversation, his, i. ; critics mostly pretenders, ii. , n. ; cumberland, dislikes, iv. , n. ; 'dear knight of plympton,' iv. ; death, i. ; delicacy as regards pope's note on johnson, i. ; delicate observer of manners, ii. ; devonshire, visits, i. ; dinners at his house, gathering of literary men, iii. , , , , ; iv. , , ; northcote's description of them, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; discourses on painting, empress of russia's testimony of a snuffbox, iii. ; first volume published, in. ; johnson described in them, i. , n. ; his dedication, ii. , n. ; mentioned in an unfinished _discourse_, iii. , n. ; praises them, iv. ; rogers, samuel, present at the last, iii. , n. ; translated into italian, iii. ; dyer, samuel, portrait of, ii. , n. ; emigration, iii. ; eminence, the cause of, ii. , n. ; errol, lord, portrait of, v. ; essex head club, declines to join the, iv. , ; describes it, iv. ; eumelian club, member of the, iv. , n. ; fox's praise of _the traveller,_, mentions, iii. , ; too much under, iii. ; 'furious purposes, his,' iv. ; garrick and the literary club, i. ; tea, iii. , n. ; garrick, mrs., dines with, iv. - ; genius, account of, ii. , n. ; goldsmith's company, likes, ii. ; criticised at his table, ii. l, n. ; debts, ii. ; dedicates the _deserted village_ to him, ii. , n. , , n. ; epitaph, loses the copy of, iii. ; fable of the little fishes, ii. ; monument, chooses the spot for, iii. , n. ; rebuked by, v. , n, ; _she sloops to conquer_, suggests a name for, ii. , n. ; to walpole, introduces, iv. , n. ; hawkesworth's character, i. , n. ; hawkins's character, i. , n. ; hospitality, his, i. ; humphry, the painter, assists, iv. , n. ; _idler_, contributes to the, i. ; illness in , i. ; imaginary praise of him, iv. ; inoffensiveness, v. , n. ; invulnerability, i. ; v. ; italy, returns from, i. , , n. ; johnson, admiration for, i. ; admiration of burke, ii. ; altercation with dean barnard, iv. ; apologises for his rudeness, iii. ; arguing, ii. , n. ; 'flew upon an argument,' ii. ; belabours his confessor, iv. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; checked immorality in talk, iv. , n. ; in a company of booksellers, iii. ; conversation, i. ; iv. - ; convulsive starts, i. ; cups of tea, i. , n. ; desire for reconciliation, ii. , n. , ; _dictionary_, cited in, iv. . n. ; _dulce decus_, i. ; dying requests, iv. ; executor, iv. , n. ; feared by a nobleman, iv. , n. ; feelings towards foreigners, iv. , n. ; fond of discrimination, ii. ; overcharges characters, iii. ; french, ii. ; friendship with, i. , , n. , , ; iv. ; in almost--only friend, i. ; friendship for taylor, iii. ; on friendship, i. ; funeral, iv. , n. ; garret, i. , n. ; gestures, v. ; interview with george iii, ii. , n. i, ; intoxicated, i. , n. ; introduces crabbe to, iv. , n. ; letters to him: see johnson, letters; letter to thurlow, copies, iv. . n. , ; lines in _the traveller_, ii. , n. ; making himself agreeable to ladies, iv. ; as a member of parliament, ii. ; mind ready for use, ii. , n. ; mode of covering his ignorance, v. , n. ; monument, iv. , n. ; inscription, ib., n. , ; never wrote a line a saint would blot, iv. , n. ; his obligation to, i. , n. ; on painting, i. , n. ; pension, i. ; proposed addition to it, iv. - , - , , - ; pride, no meanness in it, iv. , n. ; proud of reynolds's approbation, iv. ; portraits: see under johnson; prejudice against foreigners, iv. , n. ; prejudices and obstinacy, i. , n. ; pride, iii. , n. ; quarrel with dr. warton, ii. , n. ; _rambler_, origin of the name, i. ; readiness for a reconciliation, ii. , n, , , n. ; 'rough as winter, mild as summer,' iv. , n. ; rudeness partly due to his truthfulness, iv. , n. ; and savage in st. james's square, i. ; 'school,' one of, i. , n. , , n. ; iii. , , n. , ; influenced his writings, i. ; qualified his mind to think, iii. , n. ; 'reynolds's oracle,' i. , n. ; _shakespeare_, i. , n. ; talking to a 'blackguard boy,' iv. ; and thrale's copper, i. , n. ; _tracts_, his copy of, ii. , n. ; trip to devonshire with, i. ; iv. ; truth sacred to, ii. , n. ; unsuspicious of hypocrisy, i. , n. ; iii. ; vocation to public life, iv. ; watch over himself, iv. , n. ; writings, 'won't read,' ii. , n. ; _johnsoniana_, his, iv. ; _journey to flanders_, iv. , n. ; knighted, i. , n. ; leicester fields, house in, ii. ; liberality, iv. ; literary characters, a nobleman's terror of, i. , n. ; literary club, founder of the, i. ; attendance at it, ii. ; iii. , n. , , n. ; london, loves, iii. , n. ; lowe, the painter, iv. , n. ; _macbeth_, note on, v. ; malone one of his executors, iv. ; _shakespeare_, praises, v. , n. ; matrimonial wishes about him, iv. , n. ; militia camps, visits the, iii. ; modesty, unaffected, iv. ; monckton's, miss, at, iv. , n. ; montagu's, mrs., _essay_, likes, ii. - ; v. ; morris, miss, picture of, iv. , n. ; moser, keeper of the academy, eulogium on, iv. , n. ; _muddy_, ii. , n. ; mudge, rev. mr., influenced by the, i. , n. ; _sermons_, praises, iv. ; obligations, the relief from, i. ; observant in passing through life, iv. ; oxford degree of d.c.l., v. , n. ; painter to the king, iv. , n. , , n. ; paralytic attack, iv. , n. ; parr's defence of johnson, iv. ; persuaded, easily, v. ; pictures, runs to, ii. ; placidity, i. ; planet, always under some, iii. ; players, defends, ii. - ; pope's hand, touches, i. , n. ; portrait of himself holding his ear in his hand, iii. , n. ; at streatham, iv. , n. ; price of portraits and income, i. , , , ; professor in the imaginary college, v. ; prosperity, not to be spoilt by, v. , n. ; reviews, wonders to find so much good writing in the, iii. ; richardson's talk, iv. ; 'rival, without a,' i. ; round of pleasures, in a, ii. , n. ; round robin, signs the, iii. ; carries it to johnson, iii. ; royal academy, intends to resign the presidency of the, iv. , n. ; same all the year round, iii. , ; _savage, the life of_, reads, i. , ; shelburne, lord, portrait of, iv. , n. ; siddons, mrs., portrait of, iv. , n. ; sister, dislikes the paintings by his, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; smith's, adam, talk, iv. , n. ; st. paul's, proposes monuments in, iv. , n. ; streatham library, pictures by him in, iv. , n. ; suard visits him, iv. , n. ; sunday painting, iv. ; taste, taking the altitude of a man's, iv. ; how acquired, ii. , n. ; thurlow, letter from, iv. , n. ; titles, in addressing people did not use, i. , n. ; truthfulness of his stories, ii. , n. ; understanding, judging a man's, iv. ; vanburgh, defends, iv. ; vesey's, mr., at, iii. ; virtue in itself preferable to vice, iii. , ; voltaire, supposed attack on, v. , n. ; weather, ridicules the influence of, i. , n. ; wine, defends the use of, iii. ; his fondness for it, ii. ; iii. - ; reproached by johnson with being far gone, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , , n. , , , n. , ; iii. , , , , , ; iv. , n. , , , , , , , , n. , , n. , , , , , n. ; v. . _rhedi de generations insectarum_, iii. , n. . rhees, david ap, _welsh grammar_, v. . rheumatism, medicine for it, ii. . _rhodochia_, i. . rhone, iv. . rhopalic verses, v. , n. . rhyme, essential to english poetry, iii. . see blank-verse. riccoboni, mme., credulity of the english, v. , n. ; french and english stage in point of decency, ii. , n. ; sentimentalists of paris, iii. , n. ; want of respect to nobility on the english stage, v. , n. . rich, the manager of covent garden theatre, brings out the _beggar's opera_, iii. , n. ; 'is this your tragedy or comedy?' iv. , n. ; refuses a play in false english, iii. . richard ii, iv. , n. . richards, john, r.a., iii. . richards, thomas, i. , n. . richardson, jonathan, the elder, _treatise on painting_, i. , n. . richardson, jonathan, the younger, i. , . richardson, samuel, chesterfield's estimate of him, ii. , n. ; cibber, respects, ii. ; iii. ; _clarissa_, german translation of, iv. ; lovelace's character, ii. ; cowley out of fashion, iv. , n. ; death, i. , ; _familiar letters_--description of a visit to bedlam, ii. , n. ; and the procession to tyburn, iv. , n. ; fielding, compared with, ii. , , ib., n. ; disparages, ii. , , , n. ; fielding, miss, letter to, ii. , n. , , n. ; flattery, love of, v. , n. , , n. ; foreigners, read by, ii. , n. ; hanoverian, a, i. , n. ; johnson asks for an index for _clarissa_, ii. , n. ; _dictionary_, cited in, iv. ; draws his character, v. ; gives him a pheasant, i. ; letters to him; i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; meets hogarth at his house, i. ; and young, v. ; sought after him, iii. ; under arrest, helps, i. , n. ; king, dr. w., a jacobite speech by, i. , n. ; literary ladies, his, iv. , n. ; v. ; macaulay's high praise of him, ii. , n. ; nelson, robert, the original of sir charles grandison, ii. , n. ; novels, his, compared with the french, ii. ; oxford university, the jacobitism of, i. , n. ; portrait, i. , n. ; _rambler_, praised in the, i. ; praises it, i. , n. ; contributes to it, i. ; read for the sentiment, not story, ii. ; _rear_, johnson can make him, iv. ; talks of his own works, iv. ; tunbridge wells, at, i. , n. ; vanity, iv. , n. ; v. ; walpole's, horace, contempt of him, ii. , n. ; williams, mrs., visits him, i. , n. . richardson, william, i. , n. . richelieu, cardinal, ii. , n. . riches. see money. richmond, third duke of, attacks lord sandwich and miss ray, iii. , n. ; discusses history and poetry, ii. , n. ; libelled by henry bate, iv. , n. . riddell, mr., of the horse grenadiers, iv. , n. . riddoch, rev. mr., v. , , - . ridicule, abuse of it, iv. ; johnson defends its use, iii. . _riding_, the, i. , n. . ridley, the bookseller, iii. . rigby, richard, iii. , n. . _rio verde, rio verde_, ii. , n. . riot act, iii. , n. . riots, franklin's description of the street riots in , iii. , n. ; gordon riots in , iii. , n. , ; st. george's fields in , iii. , n. . risen in the world, jealousy of men who have, iii. . rising early, its difficulty, iii. . ritter, joseph, boswell's bohemian servant, accompanies boswell to the hebrides, v. , , , , , , , , ; mentioned, ii. , ; iii. . rivers, earl, savage's reputed father, i. , n. , , . rivington, mr., the bookseller, i. , n. . rizzio, david, v. . roads, described by arthur young, iii. , n. ; toll gates, v. , n. . see under scotland, roads. robert bruce, ii. - . robert ii, v. . roberts, j., the bookseller, i. , . n. . roberts, mr., register of bangor, v. , . roberts, miss, old mr. langton's niece, i. ; . robertson, mr., of cullen, v. , . robertson, mr., a publisher, of edinburgh, iv. . robertson, professor james, v. . robertson, dr. william, beattie, compared with, ii. , n. ; boswell appears against him in court, ii. , n. ; letters to, v. , ; _charles v_, criticised by wesley, ii. , n. ; price offered for it, ii. , n. ; clive's character, expatiates on, iii. ; companionable and fond of wine, iii. ; conversation, iii. , n. ; elibank, lord, his early patron, v. ; gibbon, complimented by, ii. , n. ; _histories_, his, romances, ii. ; pictures, but not likenesses, iii. ; _history of america_, iii. ; _history of greece_, projects a, ii. , n. ; _history of scotland_, johnson 'won't talk of it,' ii. ; published in , iv. , n. ; sale, iii. ; £ made by the publishers, ib.; editions, ib., n. ; mentioned, ii. ; johnson, awe of, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; criticises his _history_ and style, ii. - ; v. , n. ; estimation of him, ii. , n. ; v. ; introduced to, iii. ; asks him to translate the _iliad_, iii. ; dines with him in boswell's house, v. - ; breakfasts, v. - ; shows him st. giles, v. ; the college, v. ; holyrood, v. ; dines with him, v. ; welcomes him on his return, v. ; 'love' for him, ii. ; proposed tour to the hebrides, writes about, ii. ; refusal to hear scotch preachers, iii. ; v. ; style, recognises, i. ; imitates it, iii. ; iv. ; worship, complains of, iii. ; liberality of sentiment, v. ; packs his gold in wool, ii. ; paraphrased other people's thoughts, v. , n. ; party in the church, his, v. ; preferment, his church, iii. , n. ; principal of edinburgh college, v. , n. ; romantic humour, his, iii. ; southey calls him a rogue, ii. , n. ; style, i. , n. ; ii. - ; corrected by strahan, v. , n. ; _verbiage_, ii. ; voltaire's _louis xiv_, v. ; whist, learns, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , , , n. ; iii. . robin hood, v. . robin roy, v. , n. . robinhood societies, account of them, iv. , n. ; boswell attends one, iv. . robinson, h.c., account of capel lofft, iv. , n. ; bishop hampden's 'confirmation,' iv. , n. ; burncy's account of johnson, i. , n. . robinson, sir thomas, account of him, i. ; chesterfield sends him to johnson, i. , n. ; talks the language of a savage, ii. . _robinson crusoe_, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. . rochefort, expedition to, i. . rochefoucauld, i. . rochester, mr. colson, master of the free school, i. , n. ; johnson visits it, iv. , n. , , - . rochester, wilmot, second earl of, flatman, verses upon, iii. ; _imitations_ of horace, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; _letter from artemisia_, iii. , n. ; _life_ by burnet, iii. ; _poems_, castration of his, iii. ; wrote short pieces iv. , n. . rochford, earl of, i. . rockingham, marquis of, his ministry, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; burke's advice about it, ii. , n. ; his party, ii. . _rockingham, memoirs of_, iii. . rod, use of the, i. ; v. . _roderick random_. see smollett. rodney, sir george, ii. . rogers, rev. mr., of berkley, iv. , n. . rogers, rev. mr., _sermons_, i. , n. . rogers, samuel, beauclerk's absence of mind, i. , n. ; beckford's speech to the king, iii. , n. ; fitzpatrick and hare, iii. , n. ; fordyce's, dr., intemperance, ii. , n. ; fox's conversation, iv. , n. ; on burnet's style, ii. , n. ; love of homer, iv. , n. ; and the wicked lord lyttelton, iv. , n. ; and mrs. sheridan, i. , n. ; heads on temple bar, ii. , n. ; hume and his opponents, ii. , n. ; johnson, wishes to call on, i. , n. ; and lady lucan, iii. , n. ; marley, dean, iv. , n. ; mounsey, dr., ii. , n. ; murphy, arthur, i. , n. ; piozzi, signor, iv. , n. ; price, dr., iv. ; _rambler_, i. , n. ; reynolds's last lecture, iii. , n. ; shelburne and carlisle, earls of, iv. , n. ; wilkes as city chamberlain, iv. , n. ; williams, miss h.m., iv. , n. ; wordsworth and the _edinburgh review_, iv. , n. . rokeby, lord, i. , n. . rokeby hall, i. , n. . _rolliad, the_, fitzpatrick, partly written by, iii. ; graham, lord, ridiculed, iii. , n. ; humorous but scurrilous, i. , n. ; 'painful pre-eminence,' iii. , n. . _rollin's ancient history_, iv. . rolt, richard, _dictionary of trade and commerce_, i. ; ii. ; _universal visitor_, wrote for the, ii. ; vanity and impudence, his, i. . roman catholicism and roman catholics, attacked by wesley, v. , n. ; clergy accused of lazy devotion, v. , n. ; communion in one kind, ii. ; iv. ; convicts should be attended by a popish priest, iv. ; converts part with nothing, ii. ; not interrogated strictly, iv. ; doctrines and practice, ii. ; england and ireland, in, ii. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. - ; good timorous men, suited to, iv. ; and women, ib.; gross corruptions, iii. ; james ii's attempt to bring england over to it, ii. ; johnson attacks it, iii. ; calls their chapel a mass-house, iii. , n. ; defends it, i. , ; iv. ; prefers it to presbyterianism, ii. ; respects it, ii. ; laity and the bible, ii. ; 'old religion, the,' ii. ; penal laws relaxed, iii. - ; still in force, iii. , n. ; popish books burnt in , ib.; popery understood by the nation, v. , n. ; presbyterianism, differs chiefly in form from, ii. ; priests and people deceived, iii. ; transubstantiation, v. . _roman gazetteers_, i. , n. . romances, fit for youth, iv. , n. ; historically valuable, iv. ; johnson loved the old ones, i. ; iii. . rome and the romans, ancient, barbarians mostly, ii. ; bolingbroke's references to them, iii. , n. ; cant in their praise, i. ; iii. , n. ; carthaginian, no feeling for a, iv. ; empire, iii. ; fountain of elegance, iii. ; 'happy to come, happy to depart,' v. ; known of them, very little, ii. ; secession to _mons sacer_, v. , n. ; senate, iii. ; temples built by saurus and batrachus, iv. ; tiber, its duration compared with that of the, iii. . rome, modern, johnson eager to see it, iii. ; expected there, iv. , n. ; licensed stews, iii. ; _london_, mentioned in, i. ; pilgrimages to it, iii. ; mentioned, iii. ; v. , n. . romilly, sir samuel, capital punishments, iv. , n. ; hume and the french atheists, ii. , n. ; parr, letter from, iv. , n. ; robinhood societies, iv. , n. ; windham's opposition to good measures, iv. , n. . romney, george, cumberland's _odes_ dedicated to him, iii. , n. . rope dancing, ii. . rorie more. see sir roderick macleod. _rosamond_, v. , n. . _roscommon, life of_, i. . rose, dr., i. , n. ; iv. , n. . _rosicrucian infallible axiomata_, iv. , n. . ross, professor, of aberdeen, v. , . ross,--, a soldier, v. . rosslyn, earl of. see loughborough, lord. rotheram, john, _origin of faith_, ii. . rothes, countess dowagers of, ii. , n. . rothes, lady, bennet langton's wife, ii. , n. , , ; iii. , ; iv. , n. , , , n. , . rotterdam, iii. , n. . roubiliac, i. , n. . roughness, breedeth hate, iv. , n. . round robin, the, iii. - . rous, francis, i. , n. . rousseau, j.j., beating time, iv. , n. ; boswell, sympathy with, ii. , n. ; visits him, ii. , ; _contrat-social_, ii. , n. ; coxcomb and cynic, v. , n. ; exile and visit to england, ii. ; foundling hospital, put his children into the, ii. , n. ; french not a gay people, ii. , n. ; geneva, first departure from, i. , n. ; goldsmith, resemblance to, i. , n. ; hume on rousseau's heroes, the greeks and romans, i. , n. ; inequality of mankind, i. ; johnson's character of him, ii. ; justification of himself, ii. , n. ; liberty of teaching, opposed to, ii, , n. ; novelty, love of, i. ; pension from george iii, ii. , n. ; _profession de foi du vicaire savoyard_, ii. ; read less than formerly, iv. ; savage life, preference of, ii. ; talked nonsense well, ii. ; untruthfulness, ii. , n. ; voltaire, compared with, ii. ; want of readiness, ii. , n. ; writings, effect of his, ii. . rowe, elizabeth, i. . rowe, nicholas, an indecent poem included in his _works_, iv. , n. ; johnson's memory of his plays, iv. , n. . rowlandson, thomas, caricature of _boswell revising the second edition_, v. , n. . _rowley's poetry_. see chatterton. royal academy, boswell secretary for foreign correspondence, ii. , n. ; his letters of acceptance of office, iii. , - ; and robertson at the exhibition, iii. ; club-nights, ii. , n. ; dinners, goldsmith, johnson, reynolds and walpole present, iv. , n. ; goldsmith, johnson and walpole, talk about chatterton, iii. , n. ; johnson speaks latin to a frenchman at dinner, ii. ; in sits over against an archbishop, iv. , n. ; in has a race upon the stairs, iv. ; is kept waiting by the prince of wales, iv. , n. ; exhibition of , ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; johnson's monument, subscription to, iv. , n. ; intercession for lowe's picture, iv. - ; minister, not dependent on a, iii. ; moser, the keeper, iv. , n. ; origin, its, i. , n. ; professors and secretaries, ii. ; iv. ; reynolds's influence in it, iv. , n. ; his intention to resign the presidency, iv. , n. ; travelling students, iv. , n. . royal family, johnson's dedications, ii. , ; unpopular, ii. . royal marriage bill, ii. . _royal recollections_, i. , n. . royal society, dryden's lines, ii. ; johnson improves the method of the _philosophical transactions_, ii. , n. ; presidents--earl of macclesfield, i. , n. ; sir john pringle, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . rudd, mrs., account of her, ii. , n. ; boswell's acquaintance with her, iii. ; approved by johnson, iii. , , . ruddiman, thomas, boswell projects his _life_, ii. ; johnson's regard for him, i. ; laurence kirk, projected monument at, v. ; librarian of advocates' library, ii. ; 'ruddiman is dead,' ii. ; mentioned, iii. . ruffhead, owen, _life of pope_, ii. ; iv. , n. . ruffles, laced, iv. . ruins, artificial, v. . rundel, bishop, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . _runick inscription_, i. , n. . _runts_, iii. . ruskin, mr. john, anecdote of northcote, i. , n. ; _bibliotheca pastorum_, iii. , n. ; new town of edinburgh, v. , n. . russell, alexander, _natural history of aleppo_, i. ; iv. . russell, lady, ii. , n. . russell, lord william, ii. . russia, alchymist, a russian, ii. ; beauclerk's library offered to the ambassador, iii. ; bell's _travels_, ii. ; lapouchin's, mme., punishment, iii. ; population increasing, ii. ; rising in power, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. : see catherine ii. rustic happiness and virtue, iv. ; v. . rutland, duchess of, iv. , n. . rutland, roger, earl of, i. . rutty, dr., account of him, iii. , n. ; extracts from his _diary_, iii. - . ryland, mr., johnson's friend in , i. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; member of the essex head club, iv. ; and ivy lane club, iv. . rymer, thomas, i. , n. ; ii. , n. . ryswick, peace of, iii. . s. sabbath. see sunday. sacheverell, rev. dr. henry, johnson heard him preach at lichfield, i. ; sale of his _trial_, i. , n . sacheverell, w., _account of the isle of man_, v. , n. , . sacrament, preparation for it, iv. ; in one kind, ii. . see under johnson. sadness. 'sadness only multiplies self,' iii. , n. . sagacity, iv. . sailors, estimation in which they are held, iii. - ; generosity, v. ; johnson's description of their life, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; iv. ; v. ; mortality among them, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; noble animal, v. ; riot in london, iii. , n. ; rudeness, i. , n. . saint martin, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . saints, invocation of the, ii. , ; iii. ; iv. ; resurrection of the bodies of the, iv. . salamanca, university of, i. ; ii. . sale, _avoiding_ a, v. . sale, george, iii. , n. . salisbury, iv. , . salisbury, bishop of. see rev. dr. douglas. sallust, characters, his, ii. ; catiline's character, i. ; johnson takes a copy on his tour in scotland, v. ; translates part of the _de bella catilinario_, iv. , n. ; quoted, ii. , n. ; translation by a spanish prince, iv. . salmasius, iv. . salonica, iv. , n. . salt hill, v. , n. . salter, dr., i. , n. . salusbury family, v. , n. . salusbury, h.l., afterwards mrs. thrale and mrs. piozzi, i. . salusbury, lady, v. . salusbury, mr., mrs. thrale's father, v. , n. . salusbury, mrs., mrs. thrale's mother, her death, ii. ; saying about johnson and runts, iii. . salusbury, mr., iv. , n. . salvation, divine intimation of acceptance, iii. ; conditional, iv. , . _samson agonistes_, i. , n. . sanadon's _horace_, iii. , n. . sancroft, archbishop, iv. , n. . sanderson, robert, bishop of lincoln, johnson's style partly formed on his, i. ; use of the word _polluted_, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . sandford, mr., v. . sands, murray, and cochran, printers of edinburgh, i. , n. . sandwich, fourth earl of, confounded with bishop seeker, i. ; disposal of a crown living, iv. , n. ; fox's motion for his removal, iii. , n. ; hawkesworth and cook's _voyages_, ii. , n. ; ray, miss, iii. , n. . sandys, second lord, johnson visits him, v. ; portrait of him at streatham, iv. , n. . sandys, sir edwin, _view of the state of religion_, i. . sandys, george, _travels_, iv. . sandys, samuel, the 'motionmaker,' i. . sanquhar, lord, v. , n. . sansterre the brewer, ii. . sapper, thomas, iv. , n. . sappho in ovid, ii. . sardinia, island of, its _lingua rustica_, ii. . sardinia, charles emmanuel iii, king of, death, iv. , n. . sarpedon, v. , n. . sarpi, father paul, i. , ; dying prayer, i. , n. ; _life_ by johnson, i. ; v. , n. . _sartum tectum_, ii. . _sassenach more_, ii. , n. . sastres, signor, the italian master, johnson's bequest to him, iv. , n. ; letters to him, iv. , _n_. , , n. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. , n. . satisfaction of christ, v. . sault, mr., iv. . saunders, dr., iii. , n. . saunders, prince, a negro, iv. , n. . saunderson, professor, ii. . saurin, v. , n. , , n. . saurus, iv. . savage, richard, account of him, i. , _n_. , - ; _ad ricardum savage_, i. , n. ; addison's loan to steele, iv. ; author, an, without paper, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; _bastard, the_, i. ; caroline, queen, gives him a yearly bounty, i. , n. ; character and mode of life, i. - , , n. , , , n. ; correction for the press, iv. , n. ; death, i. , n. , ; dignity, asserted his, i. , n. ; epitaph, i. , n. ; equality of man, asserted the, ii. ; evidence of his story examined, i. - ; johnson gathers materials for his _life_, i. ; publishes it, i. ; payment for it and editions, ib., n. ; reviewed in _the champion_, i. ; wrote forty-eight pages at a sitting, i. ; v. ; intimacy with, i. - ; likeness to him, i. , n. ; quotes _the wanderer_, iv. virtue, impairs, i. ; iv. ; letter to a lord, i. , n. ; life, knowledge of, iii. , n. ; _on public spirit_, ii. , n. ; oppressed by the booksellers, i. , n. ; pension from lord tyrconnel, i. , n. ; reynolds reads his _life_, i. ; sinclair, stabs: see below, trial for murder; _sir thomas overbury_ revived at covent-garden, iii. ; its composition, ib., n. ; subscribes to husbands's _miscellany_, i. , n. ; subscription, lived on a, i. , n. ; _thales_ of johnson's _london_, i. , n. ; thomson, intimacy with, iii. , n. ; trial for murder, i. , n. , , n. ; vanity, ii. , n. ; veracity, i. , n. ; wales, sets out for, i. , n. , , n. ; walpole's, sir robert, talk, iii. , n. ; _wanderer_, i. , n. . _savage, life of_, an earlier one than johnson's, i. . savage girl, a, v. . savages, affection, have no, iv. ; boswell's defence of savage life, ii. , ; iv. ; bread-tree, reported saying about the, ii. ; compared with london shopkeepers, v. , ; cruel always, i. ; happiness of their life maintained by a learned gentleman, ii. ; ignorant of the past, iii. ; inferiority, their, v. ; marriage state, ii. ; monboddo talks nonsense about them, ii. ; and rousseau, ii. , ; saying attributed to one, iii. ; superiority of civilised life, ii. , ; v. , ; traditions worthless, v. ; wretches, who live willingly with them, iii. . savile, sir george, iii. . saville, mr., saying about 'ned' waller, iii. , n. . savings. see economy. savoy, duke of, rousseau's anecdote of one, ii. , n. . sawbridge, alderman, lord mayor, iii. ; bill for shortening duration of parliaments, iii. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , n. l. sawbridge, catherine (mrs. macaulay), i. , n. . saxon _k_ added to the _c_, iv. . saxons, iv. . scaligers, _the, accurata burdonum (i.e. scaligerorum) fabulae confutatio_, ii. , n. ; buchanan, praise, ii. ; 'cum scaligero errare,' ii. ; dictionary-makers, on, i. , n. ; johnson takes a motto from the _poeticks_, i. ; lydiat, attacked by, i. , n. ; mantuan's _bucolics_, complaint about, iv. , n. . scarborough, iii. , n. . scarsdale, lord, iii. - . scepticism, v. . _scheme for the classes of a grammar school_, i. . _school for scandal_. see sheridan, r.b. _schools_, arguing in the, iv. . schools, authority lessened, iii. ; bolingbroke, described by, v. , n. (see under schoolmasters); boys' restless desire of novelty, iii. , n. ; flogging and learning, less of, ii. ; happiness of schoolboys, i. ; north of england schools cheap and good, ii. ; poor, for the, ii. ; iii. , n. ; public, best for a boy of parts, iii. ; bad for the timid, iv. ; compared with private, ii- o ; v. ; studies not suited to all, iii. , n. . schoolmasters, described by lord cockburn, ii. , n. ; by johnson, ii. , n. ; j.s. mill, ib.; steele, i. , n. ; famous men, of, i. , n. ; johnson's writings about them, i. , n. , , n. ; maimed boys, ii. ; respect due to them, i. ; scotch masters--one criminally prosecuted, iii. , ; one dismissed for barbarity: see under hastie; severity, how far lawful, ii. , , - . schotanus, i. . _sciolus_, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . sclavonic language, ii. . _sconces_, i. , n. . _score_, ii. , n. . scorpions, ii. . scotland and the scotch, [for the hebrides and highlands', see immediately after scotland. see also in the concordance of johnson's sayings at the end of the index, scotch and scotland] aberbrothick, v. , ; aberdeen, cathedral, v. , n. ; english church, v. , n. ; cromwell's soldiers, v. ; duel fought for the honour of its butter, v. , n. ; freedom given to english students, v. , n. ; infirmary, ii. ; new inn, v. ; new aberdeen, ib., n. ; old aberdeen, v. ; population in , v. , n. ; town hall, v. ; johnson made a freeman of the city, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; no officer gaping for a fee, ib., n. ; plaids, v. , n. ; stocking-knitting, iii. ; v. ; university, education, v. , , n. ; cost of it, v. , n. ; english students, v. ; gray offered a doctor's degree, ii. , n. ; king's college, iv. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; malloch's poem on repairing the university, iv. ; marischal college, ii. , ; v. ; picture of arthur johnston, v. , n. ; professors awed by johnson, v. ; 'not a _mawkin_ started,' v. ; student from col, v. ; mentioned, iii. , , ; v. ; aberdeenshire dialect, v. , ; absence of 'a certain accommodation' in modern houses, v. ; accent, i. ; _account of scotland in_ , iii. ; advocate's admission _thesis_, ii. ; america, would not discover barrenness of, iii. ; american war popular, iv. , n. ; athelstanford, iii. , n. ; _athol porridge_, iv. ; auchinleck, account of it, iii. ; v. ; barony, ii. ; boswell's management, under, iv. ; castle, ii. ; v. ; chapel, ancient, v. ; _field of stones_, v. , ; hornless cattle, v. ; mansion, v. , n. ; inscription on it, v. ; johnson desires to visit it, i. ; visits it, v. - ; laird, past greatness of the, iii. ; present glories, iii. ; library, iv. ; v. ; paoli visits it, v. , n. ; pronounced affléck, ii. ; v. , n. ; reynolds's portrait of johnson, v. , n. l; 'rocks and woods of my ancestors,' ii. , n. ; v. ; _via sacra_, v. ; authors, ii. ; authority lessened by the scotch coming in, iii. ; ayr, v. , n. ; ayrshire, _cars_, v. ; elections, ii. , n. ; election petition, iv. ; johnson's argument, iv. ; contest in , v. ; mentioned, v. , n. , ; balmerino, v. ; balmuto, v. ; banff, v. ; bare-footed people, v. ; beggars, v. , n. ; belhelvie, sands of, v. , n. ; blackshieids, v. ; blair in ayrshire, iii. , n. ; books printed before the union, ii. ; boswell a scotchman without the faults of one, iii. ; scotland too narrow a sphere for him, iii. ; breakfasts, merit of scotch, v. , n. ; bring in other scotch in their talk, ii. ; broth, v. ; buchanan, scotland's single man of genius, iv. ; buchanmen showing their teeth, v. ; buller of buchan, v. ; cabbage, introduction of the, ii. ; v. , n. ; calder, v. ; castle, v. ; _caledonian mercury_, iv. ; v. ; career open in england, i. ; carron, the, v. , n. ; castles, smallness of the, ii. ; v. , n. ; cattle without horns, v. ; charles i, sold, iv. ; christian knowledge society, ii. - , ; church of scotland _book of discipline_, ii. ; churches dirty, v. - ; one clean one, v. , n. ; in the hebrides, v. , n. ; church holidays not kept, ii. ; form of prayers, absence of a, v. ; lord's prayer omitted, v. , , n. ; judicatures, ii. ; practice at the bar of the general assembly coarse, ii. , n. ; 'the presbyterian _kirk_ has its general assembly,' i. ; probationer, case of a, ii. ; lay-patrons, ii. ; johnson's argument on their rights, ii. - ; parties, two contending, v. ; civility, persevering, iv. ; 'cleanliness, scottish,' v. ; clergy, assiduity, v. ; card-playing, v. , n. ; compared with english, v. , ; described by warburton, v. ; homely manners, i. ; learning, want of, v. - , ; liberality of leading men, v. , n. ; second sight, disbelieve in, v. ; coaliers, iii. , n. , , n. ; combination among the scotch, ii. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; v. : see below, nationality; 'conspiracy to cheat the world,' ii. ; 'conspiracy in national falsehood,' ii. , ; constable, lord high, v. ; council-post, v. ; court of justiciary, palmer and muir's case, iv. , n. ; court of session, account of it, ii. , n. ; johnson sees the courts, v. ; attends a sitting, v. , ; 'casting pearls before swine,' ii. ; date of rising, ii. ; v. ; titles of the judges, ii. , n. ; cases--_chesterfield letters_, i. ; corporation of stirling, ii. ; ecclesiastical censure, iii. ; hastie the schoolmaster, ii. ; knight, a negro, iii. , ; literary property, v. , ; memis, dr., ii. ; shipmaster, v. ; society of solicitors, iv. ; _vicious intromission_, ii. , , ; _court of session garland_: see boswell; _covenanted magistrates_, v. , n. ; cranston, v. ; cunninghame, v. ; cupar, v. ; danes, colony of them said to be at leuchars, v. ; danish names in the hebrides, v. ; their retreat commemorated by swene's stone, v. , n. ; _de gestis scotorum_, v. ; debt, law of arrest for, iii. ; _dictionary, johnson's_, the amanuenses and contractors chiefly scotch, i. ; _dictionary of scotch words_, ii. ; dinners good, v. ; drinking at old sir a. macdonald's, v. ; 'droves of scotch,' ii. ; duff house, v. ; duke, ignorance of a scotch, v. , n. ; dumfermline, iii. ; v. ; dumfries, iv. , n. ; dunbarton, v. ; dunbui, v. ; duncan's monument, v. ; dundee, iv. , n. ; v. ; dundonald castle, v. ; _dungeon_ of wit, v. ; dunnichen, v. ; dunsinane, iii. ; dutch, scotch regiment in the pay of the, iii. ; eating, modes of, v. , n. , ; edinburgh, see p. ; education, english and scotch, iii. , n. ; eglintoune castle, i. ; elections and electors, iv. , n. ; controverted elections, iv. ; interference of the peers, iv. , ; v. ; elgin, v. - ; ellon, landlord at, ii. ; v. ; england found by the scotch, iii. ; scotland a worse england, iii. ; 'english better animals than the scotch,' v. ; english education, iii. , n. ; iv. ; chiefly tamed into insignificance by it, v. ; english prejudice, ii. , n. ; virulent antipathy, v. ; english pronunciation, attainment of, ii. - ; entail, law of, ii. ; episcopal church, iii. - ; its liturgy, ii. ; episcopals are dissenters in scotland, v. ; _facile_ man, a, v. ; _factor_, v. ; 'famine, a land of,' iii. ; fear in london of the scotch at the gordon riots, iii. , n. ; fencers, good, v. ; feudal system, ii. ; iii. ; findlater's, lord, wood, v. ; _fine_ and _recovery_ unknown there, ii. , n. ; fochabers, iv. , n. ; v, ; food enough to give them strength to run away, iii. ; fores, v. , ; france, compared with, ii. ; frith of forth, v. - ; gaiety, want of, iii. ; gardeners, ii. ; gardens, v. , n. ; garrick ridicules their nationality, ii. ; general assembly: see under scotland, church; glasgow, coal-fire, a, v. ; compared with brentford, iv. ; foulis, the printers, v. ; newspaper, extract from a, v. ; papists persecuted in , iii. , n. ; parentheses, supplies carlisle with, iii. , n. ; riches, its, v. ; saracen's head, v. ; st. kilda's man visits it, i. ; university--boswell a student there, i. ; v. , n. ; home-students fewer than of old, v. ; johnson's observations on it, ii. ; v. ; leechman, principal, v. , n. ; professors meet johnson, v. - ; afraid of him, v. ; young, professor, iv. ; windham a student there, iii. ; goldsmith's description of the landscape, ii, , n. ; gordon castle, v. ; gordon riots, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; grace at meals, v. ; grampian hills, v. ; greek, study of, iii. ; gregory, sixteen professors of the family of, v. , n. ; haddocks, dried, v. ; hamilton palace, v. ; hawthornden, v. ; head-dress of the ladies, v. , n. ; heads of rebels on temple bar, ii. , n. ; hebrides: see after scotland; hedges, absence of, v. , n. ; 'hedges of stone,' v. ; 'high english,' attainment of, ii. ; highlands: see after scotland; _history of the insurrection of _ projected, iii. , ; v. ; homer, pindar and shakespeare of scotland, iv. , n. ; _honest man_, v. ; horses get oats as well as the people, iv. , n. ; hospitality, old-fashioned, iv. , n. ; house of commons contemptible, not sorry to see the, ii. , n. ; humble cows, v. , n. ; humour, not distinguished for, iv. ; improvements for immediate profit, v. , n. ; inch keith, v. ; inns described by goldsmith, v. , n. ; inoculation, v. ; insurrections in , iii. , n ; invasion, need not fear, ii. ; irish, compared with the, ii. ; iv. , n. ; jealousy, ii. ; johnson's amanuenses scotch, i. ; ii. ; antipathy to the scotch, cannot account for his, iv. ; attacks the scotch historians, ii. ; awes scotch _literati_, ii. ; boswell's introduction to, i. ; consults scotch physicians, iv. - ; praises two settled in london, iv. , n. ; damned rascal! to talk as he does of the scotch,' iii. ; desires portraits of their men of letters, iv. ; friends among the scotch, ii. , ; good-humoured wit, ii. ; iii. ; holds a scotchman not less acceptable than any other man, ii. ; hospitality shown to, ii. , ; v. ; welcomed by the great, iv. , n. ; joke at the scarcity of barley, iii. ; 'meant to vex them,' iv. ; prejudice, shown in _london_, i. ; v. ; of the head, not of the heart, ii. ; explanation of it by reynolds, iv. , n. ; by boswell, v. ; justification of it, ii. , ; iv. ; slights their advancement in literature, ii. ; would not attend a scotch service, iii. ; v. , ; judges, titles of, v. , n. ; juries, no civil, ii. , n. ; killin, ii. , n. ; kilmarnock, iv. ; v. ; king _bob_, v. ; kinghorn, v. ; kirkwall, c. j. fox member for it, iv. , n. ; known to each other, ii. ; knox's 'reformations,' v. - ; kyle, v. , n. ; _lady-like_ woman, v. ; lanark, ii. ; iii. , ; land permanently unsaleable, ii. , n. ; landlords 'a high situation,' i. ; land-tax, ii. ; laurence kirk, v. - ; _law_ (kelly _law_), v. ; law arguments in writing, ii. ; law life, vulgar familiarity of, iii. , n. ; lawyers great masters of the law of nations, ii. ; learning, decrease of it, v. , ; in james vi's time, v. , ; 'like bread in a besieged town,' ii. ; mediocrity of it, ii. , n. ; leases, setting aside, v. ; legitimation, law of, ii. ; leith, v. ; to a scotchman often _lethe_, ib.; leuchars, v. ; lismore, ii. , n. ; v. ; literature, rapid advancement in, ii. ; logie pert, v. , n. ; lord high constable, v. ; loudoun, v. ; 'love scotland better than truth,' ii. ; v. , n. ; _lowns_, v. ; lugar, river, v. ; macbeth's heath, v. ; castle, v. , - ; mackinnon's cave, v. ; _main honest_, v. ; mallet the only scot whom scotchmen did not commend, ii. , n. ; _manse_, v. ; mauchline, v. , n. ; _mawkin_, v. ; _mercheta mulierum_, v. ; metaphysics, what passes for, iv. , n. ; middle class, want of a, ii. , n. ; middleburgh, iii. ; militia, fear of giving scotland a, in , ii. , n. ; bill of , ii. ; iii. ; fear still remained, iii. , n. ; established in , iii. , n. ; scots as officers in english militia, iii. , n. ; _mirror, the_, iv. ; mix with the english worse than the irish, ii. ; monboddo (lord monboddo's residence), v. ; monimusk, iii. ; montrose, v. - ; muir-fowl, or grouse, v. ; _muses' welcome to king james_, v. , , ; nation, if we allow the scotch to be a, iii. ; nationality, extreme, ii. , , ; iv. ; v. , (see above, combination); newhailes, v. ; 'noblest prospect,' i. ; v. ; non-jurors, iv. ; v. ; northern circuit, v. ; oatmeal, v. , n. , , ; oats defined, i. ; iv. ; old deer, v. ; _old scottish_ sentiments, v. ; enthusiasm, v. ; orchard, johnson sees an, iv. , n. ; general want of them, v. ; _ossian_, national pride in believing in, iv. (see under macpherson, james); outer gate locked at dinner-time, v. , n. ; pains-taking, of all nations most, ii. , n. ; past so unlike the present, iii. ; patience in winning votes, iv. ; pay of english soldiers spent in it, ii. ; peers, interference in elections, iv. , ; perth, an execution at, v. ; perthshire, justices and sheriff of, iii. , n. ; peterhead well, v. ; 'petty national resentment,' v. ; piety, compared with english, v. , n. ; planting, era of, v. ; players, do not succeed as, ii. ; poker club, ii. , n. , , n. ; polished at newcastle, v. ; postal service, v. , n. , , , n. , ; post-chaises, v. , n. ; poverty, escaped being robbed by their, iii. ; supposed poverty, iv. ; presbyterian fanatics, v. ; prescription of murder, v. , ; preston-pans, v. , n. ; prisoners of , treatment of, v. ; resentment at having the truth told, ii. ; iii. ; revenue, contributions to the, ii. ; robbers, no danger from, v. , , n. ; roman catholics, penal legislation against, iii. , n. ; roslin castle, v. ; sacrament, preparation for the, v. , n. ; sailors, iii. , n. , , n. ; sands laying the fields waste, v. ; 'savages,' iii. ; _scandal_ in church law, ii. ; scholars incorrect in _quantity_, ii. ; schoolmaster, brutality of a, ii. , n. ; schools inferior to english in classics, ii. ; cannot prepare for english universities, ii. ; scone, v. ; scotch oat-cakes and scotch prejudices,' ii. ; 'scotchmen made necessarily,' v. ; _scots magazine_, i. ; v. , ; serfs, iii. , n. , , n. ; v. , n. ; shakespeare of scotland, the, iv. , n. ; sheep's head, v. ; shelburne, lord, described by, ii. , n. ; sheriff-muir, v. ; sheughy dikes, v. , n. ; shoes, want of, v. , n. ; short days in winter, ii. ; slains castle, johnson visits it, ii. , n. ; v. - ; its situation, v. - ; house, v. ; sloe, brought to perfection, ii. ; society of procurators or solicitors, iv. ; johnson's argument in their case, iv. l - ; society for propagating christian knowledge, ii. , ; v. ; speldings, v. ; spinnet, a, v. ; st. andrews, boswell and johnson visit it, v. , - , ; castle, v. ; cathedral, v. - ; glass's inn, v. ; grotto, v. ; inscriptions, v. ; 'knox's reformations,' v. ; marline's _reliquiae_, v. , n. ; sharp's monument, v. ; smollett's description of the town, v. , n. ; st. rule's chapel, v. ; story of an old woman, v. ; streets deserted, v. ; tree, large, v. ; university, professors, v. , n. , ; grace at dinner, v. ; st. leonard's college, v. ; st. salvador's college, v. ; library, v. ; session, v. , n. ; students, their number and fees, v. , n. ; windows broken by them, v. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; stirling, its corporation corrupt, ii. ; stirling, county of, iii. ; stone and water, scotland consists of, v. ; study of english, i. , n. ; succession of heirs general, ii. ; swene's stone, v. , n. ; tenures, ancient, ii. ; iii. ; territorial titles, v. , n. ; tokens, v. , n. ; tories generally, v. ; torture, use of, i. , n. ; trade leaving the east coast, v. ; tranent, v. , n. ; trees, bareness of them, ii. , , ; v. - , ; those on the eastern coast younger than johnson, ii. ; v. , n. ; two large trees in one county, v. , ; old trees at calder, v. ; at inverary, v. ; elms of balmerino, v. ; jeffrey's comparison with england, ii. , n. ; johnson's sarcasms caused love of planting, ii. , n. ; iii. ; his stick 'a piece of timber,' v. ; treesbank, v. ; truth, scotchmen love scotland better than, ii. ; v. , n. ; disposition to tell lies in favour of each other, ii. ; turn-pike roads, v. , n. ; turrets, two, mark of an old baron's residence, v. ; tyrannical laws, iv. , n. ; union, benefits to scotland, v. , ; discussed in the _laigh_, v. ; few printed books before it, ii. ; how it happened, ii. ; money brought by it into scotland, v. ; 'no longer _we_ and _you_,' ii. ; universities, education given in them, ii. , n. ; no degree conferred on johnson, ii. , n. ; professorships, iii. , n. (see under aberdeen, edinburgh, glasgow, and st. andrews); veal, v. ; waiters at the inns, v. , ; walpole, horace, described by, iii. , n. ; water, too much, v. ; westport murderers, v. , n. ; whisky, the thing that makes a scotchman happy, v. ; windows without pullies, v. , n. ; wine, the refuse of france, v. ; witchcraft, executions for, v. , n. i; write english wonderfully well, iii. ; writers to the signet, v. , n. . edinburgh, academy for the deaf and dumb, v. ; advocates' library, ii. ; v. , n. , ; apollo press, iii. ; arthur's seat, iii. ; v. , n. ; beggars, v. , n. ; boyd's inn, ii. ; v. ; cadies or cawdies, iv. ; canongate, ii. ; v. ; capital, a, yet small, ii. ; carrier to london, ii. ; castle, v. , n. ; would make a good prison in england, v. ; castle hill, v. , ; church of england chapel, iv. , n. ; v. ; college, v. ; college wynd, v. , n. ; country round it, i. ; cow-gate, v. ; 'dangers of the night,' i. , n. i; described by cockburn, v. , n. i; by r. chambers, v. , n. , , n. ; dinners in , i. , n. ; enbru, v. ; fortifying against the pretender, v. , n. ; general assembly, chamber of the, v. , n. ; grey friars churchyard, v. , n. ; hanoverian faction, v. , n. ; high school, ii. , n. ; v. ; high street, v. ; holyrood house, iv. , n. , ; v. ; james's court, v. ; johnson arrives, v. ; starts on his tour, v. ; returns, v. ; describes the town, v. , n. ; his lemonade, v. ; his levee, v. ; _laigh_, v. ; signatures of the hanoverian kings preserved in it, v. ; _laigh-_shops, v. , n. ; masquerades, ii. , n. i new town designed by craig, iii. ; described by ruskin, v. , n. ; 'obscure corner, an,' ii. , n. ; papists persecuted in , iii. ,_ n._ ; parliament-close, v. ; parliament house, v. , , n. ; post-housestairs, v. ; royal infirmary, v. , ; select society, v. ; streets, the smells and perils of the, v. - ; st. david street, v. , n. , , n. ; st. giles, v. ; st. giles's churchyard, v. , n. ; sunday dinner hour, v. ; theatre, v. , n. i; _transactions of the royal society_, iv. , n. ; university, v. , n. : see above, college; wesley visits it, iii. ; describes the streets, v. , n. ; white horse inn, v. , n. . hebrides and the highlands, a m'queen, v. ,_ n._ ; ainnit, v. ; ancestors, reciting a series of, v. , n. ; anoch, v. , ; ardnamurchan, v. , ; argyll, presbyterian synod of, iii. ; armidale, johnson visits it, v. - ; a second time, v. - ; arms forbidden, v. , n. , ; arran, v. ; auchnasheal, v. - ; bag-pipes, v. ; bards, v. , n. ; barra, v. , , , n. ; beer brewed in iona, v. ; benbecula, v. ; bernera, v. , ; boats without benches, v. , n. ; bones in the windows of churches, v. ; books in the houses, v. , , , , , , , , , , , , ; borneo, as unknown as, v. , n. ; bracadale, v. ; breacacha, v. ; breakfast, cheese served up at, v. ; bridles, want of, v. ; broadfoot, v. ; brogues, v. , n. ; brolos, iii. ; _buy_, v. ; caithness, iv. ; cameron, v. ; campbell-town, v. ; camuscross, v. ; chapels in ruins, v. , n, ; charms for milking the cows, v. ; chiefs, how addressed, v. , n. ; arbitrary sovereign needful to restrain them, v. ; attachment to them, v. - ; authority destroyed, v. ; change of system, v. ; degenerating into rapacious landlords, i. , n. ; v. , n. , ; displaced by landlords, iii. , , n. ; house should be like a court, v. ; people, how they should treat their, v. , ; chieftainship, 'an ideal point of honour,' v. ; not to be sold, i. ; children compared with london children, ii. ; churches, v. , n. ; civility, v. , n. ; clanranald, v. ; clans, their order, ii. , ; claymores, v. , ; climate, v. , ; _cloth_, in the sense of _sail_, v. ; coin, scarcity of, v. ; col, isle of, johnson visits it, v. - ; castle, v. ; church in ruins, v. ; col's house, v. ; charter-room in it, v. ; complaints of trespasses, v. ; curious custom of the lairds, v. ; large stone, v. , ; lead mine, v. ; more boys born than girls, v. , n. ; people and productions, v. - ; sandhills, v. ; storm, v. ; student of aberdeen university, v. ; superstitions, v. ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. ; college of the templars, v. ; colvay, v. , n. l; common land in rasay, v. ; computation of distances, v. ; cordiality increased by boswell's drinking, iii. ; _corpach_, v. , n. ; corrichatachin, johnson visits it, v. - ; a second time, v. - ; mentioned, iv. ; costume of the gentlemen, v. , ; cottages in sky, v. ; in col, v. ; 'country of saddles and bridles,' not a, v. ; cuchillin's well, v. ; cuillin, v. ; cullen, v. ; custom-houses, no, in the islands, v. , n. ; dancing, v. , , ; dangers of the tour, v. , , , n. ; deer, freedom to shoot, v. ; desolation and penury of the islands, v. , n. ; discomforts suffered by travellers, v. , n. ; disgust properly felt at the hebrides, v. ; distinctness in narration, general want of, v. ; drinking in sky, v. , ; dun can, v. , ; duntulm, v. ; dunvegan, description of the castle, v. , , ; johnson visits it, v. - ; stays with pleasure, v. , , ; mentioned, ii. ; iii. ; v. ; , n. ; durinish, v. ; education, want of it in iona, v. , n. ; egg, isle of, ii. ; english spoken well, v. , n. ; emigration of highlanders due to rapacious landlords, v. , n. , - , , n. , , n. , , ; dance called _america_, v. ; early emigrants, v. ; emigrant ships, v. , , , - ; leaves a lasting vacuity, v. , n. ; people getting hardened to it, v. ; episcopacy, inclined to, v. , n. ; erse, irish, similarity to, ii. , ; nairne, first heard at, v. , n. ; scriptures in it, ii. - , , , ; v. ; other books, ii. , ; shaw's _erse grammar_, iii. - ; _gaelick dictionary_, iv. ; songs, v. , , ; never explained to johnson v. l; one interpreter found, v, , n. ; written language, not a, iii. ; written very lately, ii. , , , ; estates, size of, v. , n. , , n. , , n. ; fabulous tradition, v. ; fladda, v. , , n. ; _forest_, v. ; fort augustus, johnson visits it, v. - ; has a good night there, iii. , n. , ; military road, ii. ; officers who had served in america, iii. ; v. ; mentioned, v. , , ; fort george, v. - ; fowls, method of catching, v. ; foxes, price set on their heads, v. , n. ; funerals, v. ; spirits consumed at them, v. ; gardens very rare in sky, v. , ; _gaul_, a plant, v. ; general's hut, v. ; glencroe, v. , n. , ; glenelg, v. , - ; glenmorison, v. ; glensheal, v. ; graddaned meal, v. ; greyhounds, v. , n, ; gribon, v. ; grishinish, v. ; grissipol, v. ; harris, v. , n. , , n. , , n. , ; _halyin foam'eri_, v. , ; food, v. ; george iii, faithful to, v. ; grain carried home on horses, v. ; hereditary occupations, v. ; heritable jurisdictions, v. , n. , , ; _highland laddie_, v. , n. ; houses of the gentry, small and crowded, v. , , , ; mire in a bedroom, ib.; huts, v. , ; icolmkill: see iona; idleness, v. ; inaccuracy of their reports, v. , n. , , , n. , ; inchkenneth, johnson visits it, v. - ; scott's description of it, v. , n. ; johnson's _ode_, ii. ; v. ; boswell in the ruined chapel, v. ; mentioned, v. ; indians, not so terrifying as, v. ; black and wild as savages, v. ; like wild indians, v. ; infidelity in a gentleman, v. ; inns, v. , n. , , - , , , - ; want of one in iona, v. ; interrogated, not used to be, ii. , n. ; inverary, castle, built by duke archibald, v. ; the total defiance of expense, v. ; johnson visits it, v. - ; and wilkes, iii. ; mentioned, v. ; inverness, v. - ; boswell preached at, v. ; writes to garrick, v. ; johnson buys _cocker_, v. ; inverness-shire, v. , n. ; iona, boswell and johnson visit it, v. - ; johnson wades to the shore, v. ; his famous description, iii. i , ; v. ; duke of argyle present owner, v. ; building stones from nuns' island, v. ; monuments, v. ; account of the inhabitants, v. ; mentioned, ii. ; v. ; irish understood by highlanders, ii. ; isa, v. , ; island, life in an, v. , ; johnson shows the spirit of a highlander, v. ; _johnson_ and _johnston_, v. ; joyous social manners, v. ; kingsburgh, johnson visits it, v. , - ; sleeps in a celebrated bed, v. , , ; knoidart, v. , , ; landlords diminish their people, v. ; infatuated, v. ; restraint to be placed on raising the rents, v. , n. (see above under chiefs, and below under rents and tenants); law, want of, ii. ; leven, river, v. , n. , ; lewis, v. ; little colonsay, iii. ; little wants of life ill supplied, ii. ; loch-awe, v. , n. ; loch-braccadil, v. , ; lochbradale, v. ; lochbroom, v. ; lochiern, v. ; lochlevin, ii. ; loch lomond, its climate, iii. ; johnson visits it, iv. ; v. - ; loch ness, v. , , n. ; long island, v. ; longevity, no extraordinary, v. , n. ; lorn, v. ; lowlanders scorned, v. , n. ; m'craas, the, or macraes, v. - , ; m'cruslick, v. , n. ; macfarlane, laird of, _the_ macfarlane, v. , n. ; macgregors forced to change their name, v. , n. ; mapping of the country, ii. ; march to derby, iii. ; mile stones removed, v. , n. ; ministers, v. , n. ; moidart, v. ; money, admission of, iii. ; morven, v. ; moy, v. ; muck, isle of, v. , ; mugstot, v. , , ; mull, compared with fleet street, iii. ; johnson sails for it, v. ; carried away to col, v. ; arrives, v. ; no post, v. , n. ; ride through it, v. ; 'a most dolorous country,' ib., ; a great cave, v. - ; _woods_, v. ; moonlight sail along the coast, v. ; ferry to oban, v. ; nairne, v. ; newspaper, sight of a, v. ; noble animal, v. ; nomenclature in the highlands, v. , n. ; nuns' island, v. ; oban, v. ; officers of justice, want of, v. ; orkneys, ii. , n. ; ostig, johnson visits it, v. - ; parishes, v. , n. ; peat fires first seen at nairne, v. , n. ; cutting peat, v. ; periphrastic language, v. ; portawherry, v. ; portree, v. - , , , , ; prayer before milking a cow, v. ; prisons in the lairds' houses, v. , ; _quern_, v. ; 'raise their clans in london,' iii. , n. ; rasay, isle of, approach, v. ; explored by boswell, v. - ; men out in the ' , v. ; old castle and new mansion, v. ; cave, ib.; people never ride, v. ; animal life, ib.; burnt in ' , v. , n. ; no officers of justice, v. ; dancing, v. ; johnson's praise of the isle, iii. ; v. , n. , ; the pretender hides there, v. - ; mentioned, ii. ; v. ; rattakin, v. ; reapers singing, v. ; reels, iii. ; regiments raised by pitt, iii. ; v. - ; rentals, v. , n. , , n. ; rents paid in bills, v. ; in kind, ib., n. ; racked, v. , , n. , , , n. , , , n. , ; riding in sky, v. ; roads, want of, v. ; soldiers at work on them, v. ; beginning of one, v. , n. ; sight of one, v. ; rona, isle of, v. , , , n. ; rorie more's cascade, v. , ; rosedow, v. ; ross-shire, v. , n. ; sailors, very unskilful, v. , n. ; _scalch_ or _skalk_, v. ; scalpa, v. ; sconser, v. , ; second-sight, believed by all the islanders but the clergy, v. , n. ; boswell's belief, ii. ; v. , - ; dempster's criticism, v. ; johnson's curiosity never advanced to conviction, ii. , n. ; 'willing to believe,' ii. ; hears instances, v. - , ; loose interpretations, v. - ; arguments for and against, v. , nn. and ; _senachi_, v. ; sense, native good, v. ; servants in sky faithless, v. ; sheets, want of, in the highlands, v. ; shelties, v. ; _shielings_, v. ; shops, want of, v. , n. ; slate, v. , , , ; sleds, v. ; sky, church bells, no, v. ; johnson arrives, v. ; leaves for rasay, v. ; returns, v. ; leaves finally, v. ; his _ode_, v. l ; macdonald, lady margaret, beloved there, iii. ; one justice of the peace, v. ; price upon the heads of foxes, v. , n. ; snizort, v. ; south uist, v. ; spades used in sky, v. , ; spanish invasion in , v. , n. ; strangers will never settle in the isles, v. , n. ; strath, v. , ; st. kilda, boswell proposes to buy it, ii. ; cold-catching, ii. ; v. ; explanation suggested, ii. ; fire-penny tax, iii. , n. ; glasgow, st. kilda's man at, i. ; horace and virgil studied there, v. ; lady grange a prisoner, v. ; macaulay's _history of st. kilda_, ii. ; v. - ; martin's _voyage to st. kilda_, ii. , n. , , n. ; poetry, v. ; staffa, johnson sees it at a distance, v. ; sold, iii. , ; strathaven, iii. ; strichen, v. ; strolimus, v. ; superstitions, v. , n. ; tacksmen, v. , n. , , n. ; tailors, v. ; _taiscks_, v. ; talisker, johnson visits it, v. - , , n. , , ; tarbat, v. ; targets, v. ; tartan dress prohibited, v. , n. ; teigh franchich, v. ; tenants, combination among them, v. , n. ; dependent on their landlords, v. , n. ; fine on marriage, v. - ; thurot's descent on some of the isles, iv. , n. ; tobermorie, v. - , ; tradition, not to be argued out of a, v. ; translate their names in the lowlands, v. , n. ; trusted, little to be, ii. ; turnips introduced, v. ; tyr-yi, v. , n. , , l ; ulinish, v. ; johnson visits it, v. - ; sees a subterraneous house, v. ; and cave, v. ; gleanings of his conversation there, v. , ; ulva's isle sold, iii. ; johnson visits it, v. - ; violence, johnson and boswell fear, v. - ; waves, size of the, v. , n. ; _wawking_ cloth, v. ; wheat bread never tasted by the m'craas, v. ; wheel-carriages, no, v. , n. ; whisky served in a shell, v. ; whistling, a gentleman shows his independence by, v. ; 'who _can_ like the highlands?' v. ; _wood_, bushes called, v. ; heath, v. ; wretchedness of the people in and , v. , n. ; zetland, v. , n. . _scots magazine_. see under scotland. scotsman, a violent, iii. . scott, archibald, i. , n. . scott, mr. benjamin, iii. . scott, george lewis, iii. . scott, john, afterwards first earl of eldon, boswell, never mentioned by, iii. , n. ; trick played on, ib.; and taste, ii. , n. ; church-going, iv. , n. ; deathwarrants, iii. , n. ; dunning's way of getting through business, iii. , n. ; george iii, on the making of baronets, ii. , n. ; heberden's, dr., kindness to him, iv. , n. ; johnson's visit to oxford in , ii. , n. ; lee, 'jack,' on the duties of an advocate, ii. , n. ; on the india bill, iii. , n. ; norton, sir fletcher, character of, ii. , n. ; oxford tutor, unwilling to be an, iv. , n. ; pitt on the honesty of mankind, iii. , n. ; port, liking for, iv. , n. ; porteus, bishop, on knotting, iii. , n. ; portrait in university college, ii. , n. ; retirement, after his, ii. , n. ; royal marriage bill, ii. , n. ; sermons written by lord stowell, v. , n. ; small certainties, ii. , n. ; taylor, chevalier, anecdote of the, iii. , n. ; warton's, rev. t., lectures, i. , n. ; wilkes at the levee, iii. , n. . scott, mrs. john (lady eldon), ii. , n. . scott, john, of amwell, _elegies_, ii. ; meets johnson, ii. ; dread of small-pox, ib., n. . scott, sir walter, abel sampson, a _probationer_, ii. , n. ; _accommodate_, v. , n. ; auchinleck, lord, anecdote of, v. , n. ; birth, v. , n. ; blair, mistaken about, v. , n. ; boswell and the douglas cause, v. , n. ; spoils one of his anecdotes, v. , n. ; burns, sees, v. , n. ; cameron's execution, i. , n. ; charms in the hebrides, v. , n. ; clans, order of the, ii. , n. ; coursing, v. , n. ; culloden, cruelties after, v. , n. ; _detector's_ letter to him, i. , n. ; _dirleton's doubts_, iii. , n. ; dunvegan castle, v. o , n, , , n. , , n. ; errol, earls of, v. , n. , , n. ; erskine, dr., v. , n. ; finnon haddocks, v. , n. ; forbes's generosity to him, v. , n. ; forbes, sir w., lines on, v. , n. ; grange, lady, v. , n. ; halls of old scotch houses, v. , n. ; _hardyknute_, ii. , n. ; highlands, discomforts in the, v. , n. ; highlanders forbidden to carry arms, v. , n. ; home's tragedies, ii. , n. ; hospitality, old-fashioned, iv. , n. ; humble-cow, v. , n. ; inch keith, v. , n. ; inchkenneth, v. , n. ; iona, v. , n. ; johnson and auchinleck, lord, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; and boswell's voyage highly perilous, v. , n. , , n. ; definition of oats, i. , n. ; on dinners, v. , n. ; at dunvegan, v. , n. ; and _johnston_, v. , n. ; _ode to mrs. thrale_, v. , n. ; and pot, iv. , n. ; the 'sassenach more,' ii. , n. ; and the scotch love of planting trees, ii. , n. ; and adam smith, inaccuracy about, v. , n. ; kames, lord, ii. , n. ; lovat's monument, v. , n. ; mackenzie, sir george, v. , n. ; mackenzie, henry, i. , n. ; maclaurin's mottoes, iii. , n. ; _marmion_ quoted, iv. , n. ; mickle's _cumnor hall_, v. , n. ; monboddo, lord, ii. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; nairne, william, v. , n. ; _ossian_, v. , n. ; pitcairne's poetry, v. , n. ; pleydell, mr. counsellor, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; _redgauntlet_, introduction, i. , n. ; reynolds and sunday painting, iv. , n. ; roslin chapel, v. , n. ; scarcity of coin in the hebrides, v. , n. ; scotticism, a, v. , n. ; second sight, v. , n. ; sheep's-head, v. , n. ; southey, letter from, v. , n. ; tobermory, v. , n. ; _vanity of human wishes_, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; walpole's _history of his own time_, v. , n. ; _waulking the cloth_, v. , n. ; woodhouselee, lord, v. , n. ; writers to the signet and sir a. maclean, v. , n. ; young's parody of johnson's style, iv. , n. . scott, dr., afterwards sir william scott, and lord stowell; blackstone's bottle of port, iv. ; boswell, describes, v. , n. ; coulson, rev. mr., ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; crosbie, andrew, ii. , n. ; dinner at his chambers, iii. ; exercise of eating and drinking, iv. , n. ; johnson, accompanies, to edinburgh, i. ; v. , - , , , ; to the scene of the gordon riots, iii. ; bequest to him, iv. , n. ; on conversions, ii. ; epitaph, iv. - ; executor, iv. , n. ; friendship with, ii. , n. ; v. ; gown, i. , n. ; horror at the sight of the bones of a whale, v. , n. ; on innovation, iv. ; as a member of parliament, ii. , n. , ; mezzotinto, possesses, iv. , n. ; presents it to university college, iii. , n. ; might have been lord chancellor, iii. ; lectures at oxford, gave, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; 'ranelagh girl,' describes a, iii. , n. ; sermons, a writer of, v. , n. ; university college, fellow of, ii. ; mentioned, iv. ; v. . scott, mr., 'you, and i, and hercules,' iv. , n. . scotticisms, guthrie's, i. , n. ; hume's short collection, ii. : see under boswell, scotch accents. _scottifying_, v. . scoundrel, applied to a clergyman's wife, ii. , n. ; johnson's use of the term, iii. . _scoundrelism_, v. . scrase, mr., v. , n. . screen, johnson dines behind one, i. , n. . scripture phrases, ii. . scriptures, in erse: see under scotland, hebrides, erse; evidence for their truth: see under christianity. scriveners, iii. , n. . scrofula, i. . scrub in the _beaux stratagem_, iii. . scruples, baxter's, ii. ; johnson afraid of them, ii. ; distracted by them, ii. ; no friend to them, v. ; warns against them, ii. ; people load life with them, ii. , n. . _scrupulosity_, iv. . scythians, v. . sea, feeling its motion after landing, v. . sea-life. see sailors and ships. seaford, first lord, iv. , n. ; v. . seaforth, lord, v. , n. . seasons, forgotten in london, iv. ; their influence: see under weather. secker, thomas, archbishop of canterbury, 'decent,' i. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; described by h. walpole, iv. , n. ; johnson requested to seek his patronage, i. ; _life_, iv. ; _reports of debates_, i. ; sermon quoted, i. ; toast of church and king, iv. . second sight, in wales, ii. . see under scotland, hebrides, second sight. sectary, a religious, ii. . seduction, imaginary case of, iii. . seed, rev. jeremiah, iii. . _seeking after_, iii. . segued, emperor of abyssinia, i. , , n. . selden, john, knowledge varied, ii. ; table-talk, v. , ; mentioned, iv. , n. ; v. , n. . selections from authors, johnson disapproves of them, iii. . self-importance, iii. . selwin, mr., iii. , n. . selwyn, george, beauclerk at venice, i. , n. . _semel insanivimus omnes_, iv. . senate of lilliput. see under debates. seneca, iii. , n. ; v. . _senectus_, iii. . senegal, v. , n. . _senilia_, iv. . sensations, 'la théorie des sensations agréables,' i. . _sentimental journey_. see sterne. sentimentalists, iii. , n. . serfs in scotland. see scotland, serfs. _serious call_. see law, william. serjeantson, rev. james, iv. , n. . sermons, attended to better than prayers, ii. ; considerable branch of literature, iv. ; johnson's advice about their composition, iii. ; v. ; his opinion of the best, iii. (see under johnson, sermons); passions, addressed to the, iii. ; style, improvement in, iii. . servants, male and female, ii. . servitors. see oxford. sessional reports. see old bailey. settle, elkanah, city-poet, iii. ; dryden's rival, ib.; mentioned, i. . settlement of estates, ii. . _seven champions of christendom_, iv. , n. . seven provinces, i. . severity, government by, ii. . sÉvignÉ, mme. de, existence, the task of, iii. ; misprints of her name, iii. , n. ; pelisson, her friend, i. , n. ; style copied by gray and walpole, iii. , n. ; truthfulness on a death-bed, v. , n. . seward, miss anna, _acis and galatea_, quotation from, iii. , n. ; boswell introduced to her, ii. ; calls on her, iii. ; controversy with her, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; dines at mr. dilly's, iii. - ; fanciful reflection, i. , n. ; ghosts, iii. ; hayley, correspondence with, iv. , n. ; johnson and the learned pig, iv. ; praises her poetry, iv. ; _ode on the death of captain cook_, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , , n. . seward, rev. mr., of lichfield, account of him, ii. ; iii. ; valetudinarian, iii. , ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. . seward, william, f.r.s., account of him, iii. ; batheaston vase, perhaps wrote for the, ii. , n. ; harington's _nugae antiquae_, suggests a motto for, iv. ; johnson and bacon, iii. ; bow to an archbishop, iv. ; epitaph, iv. , n, , ; on the ministry and opposition, iv. ; recommends him to boswell, iii. ; tetrastrick on goldsmith, translates, ii. , n. ; langton's ancestor and sir m. hale, iv. , n. ; parr, dr., letter from, iv. , n. ; people without religion, iv. ; retired tradesman, anecdote of a, iii. , n. ; scotland, visits, iii. - , ; mentioned, i. ; ii. , ; iii. , ; iv. , , n. , . sexes, equality in another world, iii. ; intercourse between the two, ii. ; iii. ; irregular, should be punished, iii. . shaftesbury, fourth earl of, i. . shakespeare, william, boar's head club, v. ; 'boswell,' needed a, v. ; 'brought into notice,' ii. ; capel's edition, iv. ; catharine of aragon, character of, iv. ; congreve, compared with, ii. - , corneille and the greek dramatists, compared with, iv. diction of common life, iii. dogberry boasting of his losses, i. , n. ; editions published between - , v. , n. ; fame, his, iii. ; fault, never six lines without a, ii. ; hamlet's description of his father, iv. , n. ; the ghost, iv. , n. ; v. , (see below under johnson's edition); hanmer's edition, i. , n. ; imitations, ii. , n. ; johnson's admiration of him, ii. , n. ; johnson's edition, account of it, _proposals_, i. , n. , , ; delayed, i. , , , , , , n. ; ii. , n. ; subscribers, i. , n. , , , , ; list lost and money spent, iv. ; published, i. ; went through several editions, ii. ; re-published by steevens, ii. , ; attacked by churchill, i. - ; confesses his ignorance where ignorant, i. ; edited it from necessity, iii. , n. ; garrick not mentioned, ii. ; reflection on him, ii. ; kenrick's attack, i. ; newspaper criticisms, ii. notes on two passages in _hamlet_, iii. ; preface, i. , , n. ; warburton criticised, i. ; warton, j. and t., notes by, i. ; ii. - ; johnson's _prologue_, iv. ; jubilee, ii. ; ladies' shakespeare club, v. , n. ; latin, knowledge of, iv. ; _macbeth_, description of night, ii. ; never read through by mrs. pritchard, ii. ; speech to the witches, v. , ; castle, v. , ; worse for being acted, ii. ; malone's edition, i. ; iv. , , n. ; mulberry tree, i. , n. ; mulberry tree, a poem i. ; name omitted in an _essay on the english poets_, i. ; night, descriptions of, ii. , ; _othello_, dialogue between iago and cassio, iii. ; moral, iii. ; plays worse for being acted, ii. ; representations of his plays, v. , n. ; reynolds's note on macbeth's castle, v. ; _romeo and juliet_ neglected, v. , n. ; altered by otway and garrick, ib. shakspeare, _mr._ william, iv. , n. ; _shakespearian ribbands_, ii. ; spelling of his name, v. ; style ungrammatical, iv. , n. ; terrifies the lonely reader, i. ; timon's scolding, iv. ; tragedies inferior to home's _douglas_, ii. , n. ; warburton's edition, i. , , n. , ; witches, iii. ; quotations _as you like it_, iii. . -iii. , n. _coriolanus_, iii. -iii. , n. ; iv. , -i. , n. ; _cymbeline_, iii. . -iii. ; iv. . -iv. , n. ; _hamlet_, i. . -v. , n. ; i. -iv. , n. ; i. . -iii. , n. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; iii. . -ii. , n. ; iii. . -ii. , n. ; iii. . -ii. ; iii. -ii. , n. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; iii. . -i. ; _ henry iv_, v. . -i. ; _ henry iv_, i. . -iv. , n. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; iv. -iv. , n. ; _ henry vi_, i. . -v. , n. ; _ henry vi_, iii. . -v. , n. ; iv. . -iii. , n. ; _henry viii_, iii. . -i. , n. ; iv. . -- -iv. , n. ; iv. . -i. ; _julius caesar_, i. . -i. , n. _king lear_, ii. . -iv. , n. ; ii. . -ii. , n. ; ii. . -iii. , n. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; _love's labour lost_, ii. . -iv. , n. ; _macbeth_, i. . -v. , n. ; ii. . -ii. ; ii. . -i. ; ii. . -i. , n. ; iii. . -ii. , ; v. . -iv. , n. ; v. . -ii. , n. ; v. . -v. , n. ; _measure for measure_, iii. . -iv. , n. ; iv. . e-iii. , n. ; _much ado about nothing_, iii. . -iii. , n. ; _othello_, ii. . -ii. ; iii. . -v. , n. ; iii. . -iii. , n. ; v. . -v. , n. ; _rape of lucrece_, l. iiii, iv. , n. ; _richard ii_, i. . -i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. ; v. ; _romeo and juliet_, ii. . -ii. ; v. i. -ii. ; _taming of the shrew_, i. . -i. , n. ; _tempest_, i. . -iv. , n. ; iv. . l -iv. , n. ; iv. . -ii. , n. . _shakespeare illustrated_, i. . _'sh'apprens t'etre vif,'_ ii. . sharp, james, archbishop of st. andrews, v. , n. , , , . sharp, john, archbishop of york, i. , n. . sharp, dr. john, i. , . sharp, j., ii. , n. . sharp, miss, v. . sharp, samuel, _letters from italy_, ii. , n. ; iii. . sharpe, rev. gregory, ii. . sharpe, mr., a surgeon, i. . shavers, a thousand, iii. . shavington hall, v. , n. . shaw, cuthbert, account of him, ii. ; tutor to lord chesterfield, iii. , n. . shaw, professor, of st. andrews, v. , , . shaw, dr. thomas, iv. . shaw, rev. william, _erse grammar_, iii. , ; _proposals_ written by johnson, ib.; pamphlet on _ossian_, iv. - ; mentioned, iii. . _she stoops to conquer_. see goldsmith. shebbeare, dr. john, _battista angeloni_, iv. ; boswell becomes acquainted with him, iv. ; praises him, iii. ; iv. ; johnson, joined with, in the _heroic epistle_, v. ; and in parliament, iv. , n. ; _letters on the english nation_, iv. ; _letters to the people of england_, iii. , n. ; iv. ; libel, tried for, iii. , n. ; payment as a reviewer, iv. ; pension, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; pillory, sentenced to the, iii. : iv. , n. ; 'she-bear,' iv. , n. . sheet of a review, iv. , n. . sheffield, lord. _see _holroyd, john. shefford, iv. . shelburne, second earl of (afterwards first marquis of lansdowne), bentham praises him as a minister, iv. , n. ; bolingbroke, lord, i. , n. ; burke, speaks with malignity of, iv. , n. ; bute's, lord, character, ii. , n. , , n. ; chambers, sir r., ii. , n. ; chatham's, lord, opinion of schools, iii. , n. ; coarse manners, iv. ; crown--its power increased by lord bute, iii. , n. ; douglas, last duke of, v. , n. ; douglas, lord, ii. , n. ; dunning and lord loughborough, iii. , n. ; economy, rules of, iii. ; education, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; fitzpatrick's brother-in-law, iii. , n. ; french--their superficial knowledge, ii. , n. ; george iii, letter from, iii. , n. ; ingenhousz, dr., ii. , n. ; 'jesuit of berkeley square,' iv. , n. ; johnson's character of him, iv. ; intimacy with him, iv. , , n. ; king, dr. william, i. , n. ; 'lord, his parts pretty well for a,' iii. ; lowther the miser, v. , n. ; _malagrida_, iv. ; mansfield, lord, in the copyright case, . , n. ; at oxford, ii. , n. ; untruthfulness, ii. , n. ; ministry, iv. , n. , , n. , , n. ; peace of - , iv. , n. , , n. ; petition for his impeachment, ii. , n. ; portrait by reynolds, iv. , n. ; price, dr., iv. ; priestley's account of the company at his house, iv. , n. ; scotch--their superficial knowledge, ii. , n. ; untruthfulness, ii. , n. , , n. ; painstaking habits, ib.; secretary of state at the age of twenty-nine, iii. , n. ; streatham, rents mrs. thrale's house at, iv. , n. ; tories and jacobites, i. , n. ; townsend, alderman, iii. ; iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . shelley, lady, iv. , n. . shenstone, william, dodsley's _cleone_, the sale of, i. , n. ; hair, wore his own, i. , n. ; 'i prized every hour,' &c., iv. , n. ; inn, lines in praise of an, ii. ; johnson, admiration of, ii. ; account of him, v. , , nn. and ; estimate of his poems, ii. ; writes to him, v. , n. ; layer-out of land, v. ; leasowes, v. ; letters, his, v. ; london streets in , i. , n. ; _love pastorals_, v. ; pembroke college, member of, i. ; iv. , n. ; pension, v. ; pope's condensation of thought, v. ; 'she gazed as i slowly withdrew,' v. ; witty remark on divines and the tree falling, iv. . sheridan, charles, iii. . sheridan, mrs. frances, wife of thomas sheridan the son, i. , , n. , . sheridan, richard brinsley (grandson of dr. thomas sheridan and son of thomas sheridan), birth, i. , n. ; comedies, dates of his, iii. , n, ; _duenna_, run of the, iii. , n. ; father, estranged from his, i. , n. ; despises his oratory, i. , n. ; funeral, i. , n. ; johnson, compliments, in a prologue, iii. ; praises his comedies, iii. ; projects an attack on, ii. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; election, iii. ; present, iii. , n. ; marriage, ii. ; round-robin, signs the, iii. ; _sydney biddulph_ and _the school for scandal_, i. , n. . sheridan, dr. thomas (the father), anecdote of swift and a country-squire, iv. , n. ; 'sherry,' ii. , n. . sheridan, thomas (the son, father of r. b. sheridan), addison's loan to steele, iv. ; america, threatens to go to, iv. l ; boswell's instructor in pronunciation, ii. ; puns with, iv. ; conversation, ii. ; _dictionary_, ii. ; dublin theatre, i. ; dull naturally, i. ; _earl of essex_, iv. , n. ; formal endings of letters, criticises, v. ; good, but a liar, iv. ; home's gold medal, ii. ; v. ; house in bedford street, i. , n. ; insolvent debtor, iii. ; irish parliament compliments him, iii. ; johnson, account of, i. ; antipathy to the scotch, iv. ; attack on swift, iv. ; v. , n. ; describes his acting, i. ; ii. ; his reading, iv. ; pension, i. ; quarrels with, i. ; iii. ; attacks him, i. ; ii. ; irreconcileable, i. ; iv. , ; _lectures on the english language_, i. (see below, oratory); lies of vanity, iv. ; _life of swift_, i. ; ii. , , n. ; miser, maintains the happiness of a, iii. ; 'old mr. sheridan,' iv. , n. ; oratory, at bath, i. ; at dublin, ib., n. ; described by dr. parr, ib.; despised by his son, ib.; laughed at by johnson, i. ; ii. ; iv. ; 'enthusiastic about it as ever,' iv. ; pension, i. - ; 'sherry derry,' ii. ; son's marriage, his, ii. ; quarrels with him, i. , n. ; wedderburne, taught, i. ; found him ungrateful, iii. ; vanity and quixotism, ii. . sherlock, dr., _on providence_, iv. , n. ; style elegant, iii. ; mentioned, iv. . sherlock, rev. martin, iv. , n. . sherwin, j. k., iii. . shiels, r., johnson's amanuensis, i. , ; share in cibber's _lives of the poets_, i. ; iii. - , , . ship, worse than a gaol, i. ; ii. ; v. , ; misery of the sailors' quarters, iii. ; hospital, ib,, n. ; worse than a highland inn, v. . see sailors. _ship of fools_, i. . shipley, bishop of st. asaph, army chaplain, an, iii. ; v. ; assemblies, his, iv. , n. ; franklin, dr., a friend of, iv. , n. ; johnson dines with him in passion-week, iv. , n. ; visits his palace, v. ; knowing and conversible, iii. , n. ; iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; election, iv. , n. ; present, iv. ; reynolds's dinner, at, iii. - ; rout, at a, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. . shirt, changes of, v. ; clean-shirt days, i. . shoe-buckles, iii. ; v. . shop-keepers, of london, v. , . shops, a stately one, iv. ; turn the balance of existence, v. , n. . shore, jane, v. , n. . short-hand, i. ; ii. ; iii. . shrewsbury, circuit, ii. ; johnson visits it, v. - ; mentioned, ii. . shropshire, i. , n. . shrubbery, a, iv. . _shuckford's connection_, iv. . siam, king of, iii. . _sibbald, life of sir robert_, iii. . _sicilian gossips_, iv. . sick man, consolation in finding himself not neglected, iv. ; duty of telling him the truth, iv. ; impossible to please, iv. ; his thoughts, iv. . sick woman, church service for a, v. . sickness, at a friend's house, iv. . siddons, mrs., described by mrs. piozzi, v. , n. ; johnson, visits, iv. ; reynolds compliments her, ib., n. ; in _the stranger_, iv. , n. . _side_, ii. . sidney, algernon, ii. . sidney, sir philip, as an authority for a _dictionary_, iii. , n. ; misprint in a quotation from him, iii. , n. . _sidney biddulph_, i. , n. , . _siege_, a popular title for a play, iii. , n. ; v. , n. . _siege of aleppo_, iii. , n. . _siege of marseilles_, v. , n. . sienna, iv. , n. . sight of great buildings, ii. , . signs, conversation by, ii. . silence of carthusians, absurd, ii. . silk, v. . silk-mill, iii. . silver buckles, iii. . simco, john, iv. , n. . simile, when made by the ancients, iii. . simpson, joseph, account of him, iii. ; johnson's letter to him, i. ; mentioned, i. ; ii. . simpson, thomas, the mathematician, i. , n. . simpson, rev. mr., iii. . simpson, mr., of lichfield (father of joseph simpson), i. , . simpson, mr., town-clerk of lichfield, iv. , n. . simpson, mr., of lincoln, ii. . simpson, mr., owner of a vessel, v. - , . sin, balancing sins against virtues, iv. ; heinous, ii. ; original, iv. . sinclair, sir john, iv. . sinclair, robert, iii. , n. . sinclair, mr., stabbed by savage, i. , n. . singularity, johnson's dislike of it, ii. , n. ; making people stare, ii. ; the gentleman in _the spectator_, ii. . see under affectation. sinners, chief of, iv. . sion house, iii. , n. . _sister, the_, iv. , n. . sixteen-string jack, iii. . sixtus quintus, v. . skene, general, v. , n. . skene, sir john, iii. , n. . skinner, stephen, i. . slander, action for, iii. . slater, mr., the druggist, iii. . slaughter's coffee-house, i. , n. ; iv. . slaves and slavery, bathurst, dr., on it, iv. ; boswell's justification of it, iii. , - , ; drivers of negroes, iii. ; england's guilt, ii. ; georgia, i. , n. ; grainger's _sugar cane_, i. , n. ; johnson's hatred of it, ii. - ; iii. - ; toast to an insurrection, ii. ; iii. ; religious education, ii. , n. ; slavetrade, abolition of it attempted, iii. - ; england's hypocrisy in upholding it, ii. ; london alderman's defence of it, iii. , n. ; walpole's, horace, hatred of slavery, iii. , n. . see knight, joseph, somerset, james, and under scotland, serfs. sleep, quantity needful, iii. ; sleep-walking, v. . sleeplessness, 'light a candle and read,' iv. , n. . sloe, 'bringing the sloe to perfection,' ii. . sluys, iii. . smalbroke, dr., i. . smalridge, george, bishop of bristol, iii. . smart, christopher (kit), account of him, i. , n. ; derrick, compared with, iv. ; _hop garden_, ii. , n. ; madness, i. ; ii. ; _rambler_, praises the, i. , n. ; _universal visitor_, contract about the, ii. ; johnson wrote for him, ib.; mentioned, iv. , n. . smart, mrs. christopher, johnson's letters to her, in. ! iv. , n. . smart, mrs. newton, iv. , n. . smelt, mr., iv. i, n. . smith, adam, absence of mind, iv. , n. ; barnard's verses, mentioned iii, iv. ; blank verse, dislikes, i. ; boswell attends his lectures, v. ; praised by him, ib., n. ; attacks his _alliance_ with hume, v. , n. ; bounty on corn, iii. , n. ; on herring-busses, v. , n. ; composed slowly, v. , n. ; conversation, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; decisive professorial manner, iv. ; glasgow and brentford, iv. ; v. ; gold, importation of, iv. , n. ; 'hotbed of genius,' raised in a, ii. , n. ; hume's _dialogues on natural religion_, i. , n. ; letter from, iv. , n. ; _life_, iii. ; v. - , , n. ; suggested knocking of his head against, iii. ; johnson, altercation with, iii. ; imaginary altercation, v. , n. ; compared with, iv. , n. ; dictionary_, reviews, i. , n. ; knowledge of books, i. ; meeting with, i. ; preface to his _shakespeare_, i. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; iii. , n. ; elected when the club had 'lost its select merit,' ii. , n. ; macdonald, sir j., death of, i. , n. ; macpherson's _ossian_, ii. , n. ; milton's shoe-latchets, v. ; oxford student, i. ; iv. , n. ; philosophers and porters, i. , n. ; professor of logic, v. , n. ; professor of moral philosophy, v. , n. ; select society, member of the, v. , n. ; _theory of moral sentiments_, v. , n.; universities, reflection on english, iii. , n. , , n. ; iv. . n. . _wealth of nations_, publication of, ii. - ; condemned by the inquisition, i. , n. ; johnson's ignorance of it, ii. , n. ; valued by boswell, v. , n. . smith, captain, iii. . smith, edmund, expulsion from oxford, ii. , n. ; _life, quoted, i. , n. , ; lines on pococke, iii. . smith, general, foote's _nabob,_ iii. , n. . smith, 'gentleman,' the actor, ii. , n. . smith, john, lord chief baron, iv. , n. ; v. . smith, rev. mr., vicar of southill, iv. , . smith, sydney, v. , n. . smith, william, bishop of lincoln, v. , n. . smith, mr., ii. . smoking, gone out, v. ; sedative effect, i. ; v. . smollett, commissary, 'solid talk,' v. ; monument to dr. smollett, v. . smollett, dr. tobias, blackfriars bridge, praises, i. , n. ; british coffee-house club, iv. , n. ; churchill, attacked by, i. , n. ; _critical review_, edits the, iii. , n. ; attacks griffiths and the _monthly_, ib.; cumming the quaker, v. , n. ; epitaph, v. ; feudal system, v. , n. ; french houses, ii. , n. ; meat and cookery, ii. , n. ; _valets de place_, ii. , n. ; grumbler, a great, as a traveller, iii. , n. ; hamilton the bookseller, ii. , n. ; heritable jurisdictions, v. , n. ; _humphry clinker_ described by h. walpole, i. , n. ; johnson's _debates_, i. - ; johnson and he 'never cater-cousins,' i. ; londoners and the battle of culloden, v. , n. ; lyttelton, lord, afraid of him, iii. ; monument, v. ; johnson corrects the inscription, v. ; _ode on leven water_, v. , n. ; _tears of scotland_, v. , n. ; _travels_ criticised by thicknesse, iii. - ; wilkes, letter to, i. ; quotations, &c. from his works-- _humphry clinker_, authors sleeping on bulks, i. , n. ; in the pillory, iii. , n. ; bath described, iii. , n. ; butcher row, i. , n. ; edinburgh cawdies, iv. , n. ; edinburgh a hot-bed of genius, ii. , n. ; elibank, lord, v. , n. ; 'gardy loo,' v. , n. ; _hemisphere_, ii. , n. ; highland funeral, v. , n. ; libels, i. , n. ; methodists, ii. , n. ; _ossian_, ii. , n. ; psalmanazar, george, iii. ; queensberry, duke of, ii. , n. ; quin at bath, iii. , n. ; scotch, english prejudice against the, ii. , n. ; scotch churches, dirtiness of, v. , n. ; scotland as little known as japan, v. , n. ; smollett's, commissary, house, v. , n. ; st. andrews, v. , n. ; _straw_ in bedlam, ii. , n. ; whisky as a medicine for infants, v. , n. ; _peregrine pickle_, governor, v. , n. ; lady vane, v. , n. ; _roderick random_, 'cham,' i. , n. ; finding a person comprehension, iv. , n. ; hospital on a man-of-war, iii. , n. ; _loblolly boy_, i. , n. ; lyttelton, lord, said to be abused in it, iii. , n. . smollett, mrs., v. . smuggling, iii. , n. . snails and dissenters, ii. , n. . snakes, concerning, iii. . snowdon, ii. ; v. . sobieski, king, v. , n. , . social attentions, i. . society, condition upon which all societies subsist, ii. ; duty to it, v. ; external advantages of great value, i. ; held together by respect for birth, ii. ; right to prohibit propagation of dangerous opinions, ii. ; submitting to its determinations, v. ; truth, held together by, iii. . society of artists, i. ; _preface to the catalogue_, ib., n. , . _society of arts and sciences_, johnson tries to speak there, ii. ; is recommended by hollis, iv. ; votes against a scotchman, iv. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . society for conversation, iv. . society for the encouragement of learning, i. , n. . society for the propagation of the gospel, archbishop markham's sermon, v. , n. ; bequest of slaves made to it, iii. , n. . society for propagating christian knowledge, ii. - , ; v. . socrates, compared with charles xii, iii. ; education, on, iii. , n. ; learnt to dance, iv. ; passing through the fair at athens, i. , n. ; reduced philosophy to common life, i. . sodor and man, bishop of, iii. . _solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris_, iv. , n. . solander, dr., account of him, v. ; proposed expedition, ii. , ; iii. . _soldiers letter_, i. . soldiers, breeding, their, ii. ; character high, iii. ; common soldiers usually gross, iii. ; coronation, at the, iii. , n. ; courage, iii. ; deaths from gaol fever, iv. , n. ; dicey, professor, on the difficulties of their position, iii. , n. ; english stronger than french, v. ; estimation in which they are held, iii. - ; fame, get little, v. ; france, respect paid to them in, iii. ; governed by want of agreement, ii. ; insolence, iii. , nn. and ; johnson's estimate of them in his talk and study, iii. - ; mutiny act, iii. , n. ; officers, their ignorance, v. ; respected, iii. ; superiority of their accommodation, iii. , ; pay, ii. ; peace, in time of, iii. , n. ; quartered in inns, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; real life and modern fiction, in, ii. , n. ; regularity, want of, iii. , n. ; relish of existence, iii. , n. ; riches in them do not excite anger, v. ; shot at for five-pence a day, ii. ; trial of two soldiers for murder, iii. , n. . solicitors, iv. - . see attorneys. solitude, burton's warning against it, iii. . see under johnson, solitude. somers, lord, patron of learning, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . somerset, james, a negro, account of his case, iii. , n. , ; v. , n. ; hargrave's _argument_ quoted, v. , n. ; knight the negro reads his case, iii. , n. . somerset, duchess of, i. , n. . somersetshire, iii. , n. . somerville, lord, iv. . sommelsdyck, family of, v. , n. . _somnium_, i. . sorrow, inherent in humanity, v. ; remedies for it, ib., n. ; useless, iii. , n. . see grief. sound, beauty in a simple sound, ii. . south, dr. robert, johnson criticises his _sermons_, iii. ; recommends his _sermons on prayer_, ii. . _south briton_, a libel, iv. , n. . south sea, voyages to the, ii. ; iii. ; iv. . _south sea report_, i. . south sea scheme, dr. young loses by it, iv. ; fenton's advice to gay, v. , n. . southampton, lord, ii. , n. . southey, robert, _adventurer_, i. , n. ; colman and lloyd, ii. , n. ; correcting _doggedly_, v. , n. ; dreams, i. , n. ; english historians, ignorance of, v. , n. ; _gentleman's magazine_, despises the, iv. ; georgia, settlement of, i. , n. ; _methodists_, origin of the term, i. , n. ; poet-laureate, i. , n. ; robertson's, dr., omissions, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; robinson, sir t., i. , n. ; supernatural appearances, iii. , n. ; walks, the habit of taking long, i. , n. ; want of readiness, ii. , n. ; wesley's manners, iii. , nn. and ; wesley warned by 'a serious man,' v. , n. ; westminster school, account of, iii. , n. ; whitefield's oratory, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; _whole duty of man_, ii. , n. . southill, the residence of squire dilly, boswell visits it in , iii. ; boswell and johnson in , i. ; iv. ; the church, i. ; iv. . southwell, thomas, second lord, i. ; iii. ; 'most qualified man,' iv. . southwell, mr., i. . southwell, robert, the jesuit, v. . space, _quasi sensorium numinis_, v. . spain, boswell, david, lives there, n. , n. ; embassy to it in , ii. ; expedition to scotland in , v. , n. ; exportation of coin, iv. , n. ; johnson attacks it in _london_, i. , ; in _lives of blake and drake_, i. , n. ; wishes that it should be travelled over, i. , , ; iii. ; spanish invasion, fears of a, iii. , n. ; treaty of peace of - , iv. , n. . spanish plays, iv. . spanish proverbs, i. , n. ; iii. . sparta, ii. ; iii. . speaking, of another, iv. ; of oneself, iii. ; public speaking, ii. , . spearing, mr., an attorney, i. , n. . _spectator_, addison, badness of the part not written by, iii. ; baretti, read by, iv. ; bonn's edition, iv. , n. ; bouhours quoted, ii. , n. ; bows of the spectator's banker, i. , n. ; _british princes_, ii. , n. ; curious epitaph, iv. , n. ; edition with notes, ii. ; end of its publication, i. , n. ; _epilogue to the distressed mother_, i. , n. ; 'find variety in one,' iii. , n. ; freeport, sir andrew, ii. , n. ; 'gentleman, the,' ii. ; grove's paper on novelty, iii. ; hockley in the hole, iii. , n. ; kurd's notes, iv. , n. ; ince's papers, iii. , n. ; indian king at st. paul's, i. , n. ; johnson praises it, ii. ; milking a ram, i. , n. ; motto to no. , v. , n. ; osborne's _advice to a son_, ii. , n. ; paper of notanda, i. ; _philip homebred_, iii. ; pope's letter to steele, iii , n. ; psalmanazar ridiculed, iii. ; reputation enjoyed by chance writers in it, iii. ; singularity, ii. ; two-penny club, iv. , n. ; _whole duty of man_, i. , n. : see under addison. spedding, james, _bacon's works_, i. , n. . speech-making, a knack, iv. . spelling, in the seventeenth century, v. , n. . see johnson, spelling. spence, rev. joseph, account of him, v. ; _anecdotes_, iv. ; v. ; blacklock's poetry, i. ; pope visits him at oxford, iv. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . spencer, second earl, member of the literary club, i. . spencer, lady, iii. , n. . spenser, edmund, bunyan, read by, ii. ; _dictionary_, as an authority for a, iii. , n. ; george iii suggests that johnson should write his _life_, ii. , n. ; iv. ; imitations of him, iii. , n. ; _ruines of rome_, iii. , n. ; 'spenser, mr. edmund,' iv. , n. . sphinx, the, iii. . spinosa, i. , n. ; iii. . spirit, evidence for. see johnson, spirit. spirits. see ghosts. spirits, evil, iv. . _spiritual quixote_, its author, a member of pembroke college, i. , n. ; and a friend of shenstone, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; on clean shirts, v. , n. . spirituous liquors, felicity of drunkenness cheaply attained by them, iii. , n. ; misery caused by them, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; pleasant poison, v. , n. . _spleen, the_, iii. , . splendour, iv. . spooner, rev. mr., v. . spottiswoode, dr., ii. , n. . spottiswoode, john, iii. - . sprat, bishop, _history of the royal society_, iv. ; _life_ quoted, i. , n. ; meets bentley, v. , n ; style, iii. , n. . squills, iv. . _squire richard_, iv. . squires, rev. mr., i. , n. . stage, mr., iv. , n. . stafford, ii. , n. . staffordshire, fruit, very little, iv. ; jacobite fox-hunt, iii. , n. ; nursery of art, iii. , n. ; toryism, its, ii. ; two young methodists from it, ii. ; whig, a staffordshire, iii. . stage. see players. stage-coaches, i. , n. . see coach. stair, earl of, v. . st. alban's, boswell and johnson pass the night there, iii. ; monument to john thrale, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. ; iv. , n. . st. alban's, first duke of, i. , n. . st. asaph, ii. ; v. . st. aubyn, sir john, i. . st. augustine, '_misericordia domini inter pontem et fontem_' iv. , n. ; weighed against jonathan wild plus three-pence, iv. . st. cas, expedition to, i. , n. . st. columba, v. , , . st. cross, at winchester, iii. . st. cuthbert's day, at university college, ii. . st. gluvias, i. . st. ignatius loyola, i. . st. jerome, ii. , n. . st. john. see bolingbroke. st. malo, expedition sent against it, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. . st. paul, 'chief of sinners,' iv. ; converted by supernatural interposition, iii. ; fear of being a cast-away, iv. ; saw unutterable things, ii. ; thorn in the flesh, v. ; 'warring against the law of his mind,' iv. . st. petersburgh, iv. , n. . st. quintin, ii. . st. vitus's dance, i. . stamp act, burke's speeches, ii. . stanhope, first earl, i. . stanhope, third earl, presided at a meeting of the revolution society, iv. , n. . stanhope, fifth earl, on the author of _captain carleton's memoirs_, iv. , n. . stanhope, mr. (lord chesterfield's son), boswell's description of him, i. , n. ; johnson's, iv. , n. ; harte, dr., his tutor, iv. , n. . : see chesterfield, earl of, letters to his son. stanhope, mr., mentioned in tickell's _epistle_, iii. , n. . stanislaus, king, ii. , n. . stanley, dean, _memorials of westminster abbey_--ephraim chambers's epitaph, i. , n. ; goldsmith's epitaph and johnson's latin, iii. , n. ; johnson's and macpherson's graves, ii. , n. . stanton, mr., manager of a company of actors, ii. , . stanyan, temple, iii. . stapylton, family of, v. , n. . _starvation_, ii. , n. . state, its right to regulate religion, ii. ; iv. ; the vulgar are its children, ii. ; iv. . _state_ used for _statement_, iii. . state of nature, v. . _state trials_, i. . stationers' company, ii. . statius, i. . statuary, ii. . statues, reason of their value, iii. . staunton, dr. (afterwards sir george), johnson's letter to him, i. ; _debates_, iv. . '_stavo bene, &c._,' ii. . steele, joshua, _prosodia rationalis_, ii. . steele, mr., of the treasury, i. . steele, sir richard, addison's loan, iv. , ; _apology_, ii. , n. ; _british princes_, ridicules the, ii. , n. ; _christian hero_, ii. ; _conscious lovers_, i. , n. ; grammar-schools, account of, i. , n. ; ince, praise of, iii. ; marlborough's, duke of, papers, v. , n. ; old age, ii. , n. ; 'practised the lighter vices,' ii. . steevens, george, boswell complains of his unkindness, iii. , n. ; praises his principles, iii. ; character by garrick and parr, iii. , n. ; chatterton's poems, iii. , n. ; courtenay's _poetical review_, mentioned in, i. ; davies, tom, sneers at, i. , n. ; fox's election to the club, ii. , n. ; generosity, iii. ; assists mrs. goldsmith, ib.; _hamlet_, proposed emendation of, ii. , n. ; hawkins, attacked by, iv. , n. ; johnson, anecdotes of, iv. ; not trustworthy, ib., n. ; epitaph, iv. ; aids, in the _lives_, iv. ; interpretation of two passages in _hamlet_, iii. , n. ; letters to him, ii. ; iii. ; levee, attends, ii. ; 'the old lion,' ii. , n. ; reflection on garrick, ii. , n. ; and the spunging-house, i. , n. ; and torre's fireworks, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; election, ii. ; present, ii. ; literary impostures, his, iv. , n. ; outlaw, leads the life of an, ii. ; deserves to be hanged or kicked, iii. ; anonymous attacks, iv. ; rochester's _poems_, castrates, iii. ; shakespeare, edits, ii. , ; shakespearian editors, i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , ; iii. , ; iv. . stella (mrs. johnson), ii. , n. . _stella in mourning_, i. . stephani, the, henry stephens' _greek dictionary_, ii. , n. ; maittaire's _stephanorum historia_, iv. ; what they did for literature, iii. . stephens, alexander, beckford's speech to the king, iii. , n. . stepney, george, iv. , n. . sterne, rev. laurence, beggars, iv. , n. ; death, ii. , n. ; dinner engagements, ii. ; goldsmith calls him a blockhead, ii. , n. ; and 'a very dull fellow,' ii. ; indecency, ii. , n. ; johnson's opinion of him, ii. ; monckton, miss, finds him pathetic, iv. ; _sentimental journey_, imitation of it, ii. ; _sermons_ read by johnson in a coach, iv. , n. ; seen by him at dunvegan, v. ; _tristram shandy_, burns's bosom favourite, i. , n. ; 'did not last,' ii. ; farmer, dr., foretells that it will be speedily forgotten, ii. , n. ; gray mentions it, ii. , n. ; harris's _hermes_, anecdote of, ii. , n. ; walpole describes it as 'the dregs of nonsense,' ii. , n. ; references to it, 'daily regularity of a clean shirt,' v. , n. ; _lilliburlero_, ii. , n. . stevenage, iii. . stevens, r., a bookseller, i. , n. . stevenson, dr., v. . stewart, sir annesly, iv. . stewart, commodore, v. . stewart, dugald, authorship in scotland, ii. , n. ; existence of matter, i. , n. ; glasgow university, at, v. , n. ; hume's scotticisms, ii. , n. ; select society, the, v. , n. ; smith's, adam, conversation, iii. , n. ; peculiarities, iv. , n. . stewart, francis, johnson's amanuensis, i. ; johnson buys his old pocket-book, iii. , ; and a letter, iv. , . stewart, george, bookseller of edinburgh, i. . stewart, sir james, iii. , n. . stewart, mr., sent on a secret mission to paoli, ii. . stewart, mrs., iii. , ; iv. , . still, john, bishop of bath and wells, iv. , n. . stillingfleet, benjamin, iv. . stinton, dr., iii. ; iv. . stockdale, rev. percival, account of him, ii. , n. ; johnson's defence of drunkenness, ii. , n. ; on dictionary-making, ii. , n. ; on expectations, i. , n. ; _works_, edits two volumes of, i. , n. ; , n. ; _remonstrance, the_, ii. ; russia, offered a post in, iv. , n. ; st. andrews, lodgings at, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . stoick, the, in _lucian_, iii. . stone, mr., iii. , n. . stonehenge, iv. , n. . stopford, general, ii. . stormont, seventh viscount (afterwards second earl of mansfield), v. , n, . story, thomas, the quaker, i, , n. . story, its value depends on its being true, ii. . stourbridge, johnson at the school, i. ; v. , n. ; the town formerly in the parish of old swinford, v. . stow, richard, i. , n. . stowe, iii. , n. . stowell, lord. see scott, william. strahan, andrew, iv. . strahan, rev. george, vicar of islington (son of william strahan), attends johnson when dying, iv. - ; johnson's bequest to him, iv. , n. ; _prayers and meditations_, edits, i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. - ; omits some passages, iv. , n. ; visits him, iv. , ; will, witnesses, iv. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , n. ; iv. . strahan, william, the king's printer, purchaser in whole or in part of blair's _sermons_, iii. ; _cook's voyages_, ii. , n. ; _duke of berwick's life_, iii. ; _gibbon's decline and fall_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; johnson's _dictionary_, i. ; iv. l; _journey to the western isles_, ii. ; _patriot_, ii. ; _rasselas_, i. ; mackenzie's _man of feeling_, i. ; boswell's praise of him, i. ; breakfast and dinner at his house, ii. ; iii. ; coach, keeps his, ii. ; elphinston's _martial_, iii. ; epigram, how far a judge of an, iii. ; franklin's letter to him on their rise in the world, ii. , n. ; on the american war, iii. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. - , ; hume left him his manuscripts, ii. , n, ; corrected hume's style, v. , n. ; johnson's altercation with adam smith, iii. ; attempts to bring, into parliament, ii. - ; difference with, iii. ; friendly agent, ii. ; interested in one of his apprentices, ii. ; letter to him, iii. ; letters to scotland, franked, iii. ; one of a deputation to, iii. ; _london chronicle_, printer of the, iii. ; member of parliament, ii. ; obtuse, iii. ; robertson's style, corrected, v. , n. ; small certainties, on, ii. ; smith's, adam, letter to him, v. ; spottiswoode, dr., his greatgrandson, ii. , n. ; warburton's letter, shows, v. - ; wedderburne, anecdote of, ii. ; mentioned, i. , , n. ; ii. , n. , , . strahan, mrs. (wife of william strahan), johnson's letters to her, iv. , ; mentioned, i. . strahan, william, junior, death, iv. . straits of magellan, v. . _stranger, the_, iv. , n. . stratagem, iii. , , n. . stratford-on-avon, boswell and johnson drink tea there, ii. ; jubilee, ii. ; shakespeare's mulberry-tree, ii. . _stratford jubilee, the_, ii. . stratico, professor, i. . straw, balancing a, iii. . _straw, beating his_, ii. . streatham, church, thrale's monument, iv. , n. ; johnson's farewell, iv. ; common, ii. , n. ; thrale's villa, boswell's first visit to it, ii. ; visit in , iii. ; dining-room, iii. ; luxurious dinners, iii. , n. ; johnson gives a bible to one of the maids, iii. ; 'home,' i. , n. ; iii. , n. , ; laboratory, iii. , n. ; last dinner, iv. , n. ; musing over the fire, ii. , n. ; parting use of the library, iv. ; library, compared with the one at st. andrews, v. , n. ; pictures round it, iv. , n. ; 'none but itself can be its parallel,' iii. , n. ; omai dines there, iii. ; shelburne, lord, let to, iv. , n. ; summerhouse, iv. ; village, iii. ; mentioned, iii. . streets, passengers who excite risibility, i. . strichen, lord, v. , n. . strickland, mrs., iii. , n. . strikes in london, iii. , n. . stuart, andrew, duel with thurlow, ii. , n. ; _letters to lord mansfield_, ii. - , . stuart, gilbert, iii. , n. . stuart, hon. colonel james (afterwards stuart-wortley), boswell, accompanies him to london, iii. ; to lichfield, iii. ; to chester, iii. ; raises a regiment, iii. ; ordered to jamaica, iii. , n. . stuart, rev. james, of killin, ii. , n. . stuart, hon. and rev. w., iv. . stuart, mrs. ii. , n. . stuart, the house of, johnson defends it, i. ; has little confidence in it, i. ; maintains its popularity, iii. - ; iv. ; his tenderness for it, i. ; right to the throne, ii. ; iii. ; v. , n. , - ; scotch episcopal church, faithful to it, iii. ; scotch non-jurors give up their allegiance, iv. ; voltaire sums up its story, v. ; mentioned, ii. . stuart clan, ii. . stubbs, george, iv. , n. . _student, the, or oxford and cambridge miscellany_, i. , . studied behaviour, i. . study, all times wholesome for it, iv. ; johnson's advice to boswell, i. , , , ; iii-- ; five hours a day sufficient, i. ; particular plan not recommended, i. ; studying hard, i. . _stultifying_ oneself, v. . style, elegance universally diffused, iii. ; foreign phrases dragged in, iii. , n. ; hume and mackintosh on english prose, iii. , n. ; johnson's dislike of gallicisms, i. ; metaphors, iii. ; iv. , n. ; peculiar to every man, iii. ; seventeenth century style bad, iii. ; studiously formed, i. ; temple gave cadence to prose, iii. ; unharmonious periods, iii. ; which is the best? ii. . see under addison and johnson. style, old and new, i. , n. , . suard, johnson introduces him to burke, iv. , n. ; voltaire and mrs. montague, ii. , n. . subordination, breaking the series of civil subordination, ii. ; broken down, iii. ; conducive to the happiness of society, i. , ; ii. ; iii. ; v. ; essential for order, iii. ; feudal, ii. ; v. ; french happy in their subordination, v. ; grand scheme of it, i. ; high people the best, iii. ; johnson's great merit in being zealous for it, ii. ; mrs. macaulay's footman, i. ; iii. ; mean marriages to be punished, ii. - ; men not naturally equal, ii. ; promoted by a corsican hangman, i. , n. ; without it no intellectual improvement, ii. . subscription to the thirty-nine articles. see thirty-nine articles. succession, male, boswell and the barony of auchinleck, ii. - ; johnson's advice to boswell, ii. - ; his zeal for it in langton's case, ii. ; as regards the thrale family, ii. ; iii. . suckling, sir john, _aglaura_, iii. , n. . sueno, king of norway, v. . suetonius, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . _sufflamina_, i. . suffolk, militia bill of , i. , n. ; price of wheat in , iii. , n. . suffolk, lady, ii. , n. . sugar, taken in the servant's fingers, ii. ; v. . _sugar cane, a poem_. see grainger, james. suger, abbot, iii. , n. . suicide, baxter on the salvation of a suicide, iv. ; civil suicide, iv. ; fitzherbert's 'melancholy end,' ii. ; going to the devil where a man _is_ known, v. ; johnson supposed to recommend it, iv. ; martyrdom a kind of voluntary suicide, ii. ; motives that lead to it, ii. - . suidas, i. , n. . sulpitius, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . sunday, abroad a day of festivity, ii. , n. ; bird-catching on it, ii. , n. ; harvest work, iii. ; heavy day to johnson when a boy, i. ; legal consultations, ii. ; militia exercise, i. , n. ; reading, v. ; relaxation allowed but not levity, v. ; scheme of life for it, i. ; throwing stones at birds, v. . sunderland, iii. , n. . sunderland, third earl of, lowther the miser, v. , n. ; mentioned, i. . '_sunk upon us_,' ii. . superfoetation of the press, iii. . superiority, iv. . supernatural agency, general belief in it, v. . supernatural appearances, evidence of them, ii. ; use of them, iii. , n. : see ghosts, witches; and under scotland, hebrides, second-sight. superstitions, not necessarily connected with religion, v. . see under boswell and johnson. supper, a turnpike, iii. . surinam, v. , n. , . surnames, easily mistaken, iv. . surrey, militia bill of , i. , n. . suspicion, often a useless pain, iii. . _suspicious husband, the_, ii. . _suspirius_, i. ; ii. . sussex, militia bill of , i. , n. ; price of wheat in , iii. , n. ; violence of the waves on its coast, v. , n. . sussex, duke of, ii. , n. . suter, mr., v. , n. . swallows, their hibernation, ii. , . swan, dr., i. . swansea, i. . swarkstone, i. , n. . swearing, court of justice, in a, v. ; conversation, in,--causes of the custom, ii. ; genteel people swear less than formerly, ii. , n. ; johnson disapproves of it, ii. ; iii. l; represented as swearing in dr. t. campbell's _diary_, ii. , n. ; shows his displeasure, iii. . sweden, johnson promised a letter of good-will from it, i. ; wishes to visit it, iii. ; v. ; torture used there, i. , n. . sweden, king of, knights dr. hill, ii. , n. . sweden, king of (gustavus iii), boswell wishes to see him, v. ; his death, iii. , n. . _sweden, history of_, by daline, ii. i . sweet-meats, iii. ; iv. . swift, jonathan, _advice to the grub-street verse writers_, i. , n. ; affectation of familiarity with the great, iv. ; anonymously, published, ii. ; _apology for the tale of a tub_, ii. , n. ; _artemisia_, ii. , n. ; _beggar's opera_, opinion of the, ii. , n. ; bettesworth, sergeant, iii. , n. ; blackmore, sir richard, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; broomstick, could write finely on a, ii. , n. ; _conduct of the allies_, ii. ; death, troubled by thoughts of, ii. , n. ; what reconciles us to it, iii. , n. ; delany's _observations_: see delany; _drapier's letter_, ii. ; dryden's prefaces, iv. , n. ; _epistle to captain gulliver_, v. ; _eugenia_, ii. , n. ; faulkner, g., ii. , n. ; feared by a country squire, iv. , n. ; flowered late, iii. , n. ; french writers superficial, i. , n, ; frugal but liberal, iii. , n. ; gay's writings for children, ii. , n. ; geniuses united, the power of, i. ; glover's _leonidas_, v. , n. ; goldsmith on his 'strain of pride,' iii. , n. ; grimston, viscount, iv. , n. ; _gulliver's travels_, ii. ; quoted in johnson's _dictionary_, ib., n. ; brought its author money, iii. , n. ; happiness, definition of, ii. , n. ; hawkesworth's _life_ of him, i. , n. ; _history of john bull_, v. , n. ; howard, hon. edward, ii. , n. ; inferior to his contemporaries, v. ; ireland his debtor, ii. ; reception there in , iii. , n. ; return to it in , iii. , n. ; johnson's attacks on him, i. ; ii. , ; iv. ; v. ; recommended to him, i. ; iv. ; worse than swift,' v. ; writes his life, iv. - ; _journal_, iv. ; laugh, did not, ii. , n. ; _letter to tooke the printer_, ii. , n. ; _lines on censure_, ii. , n. ; low life, love of, v. , n. ; manley, mrs., satirised in _corinna_, iv. , n. ; _memoirs of scriblerus_, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; _miscellanies in prose and verse_, i. , n. ; _ode for music_, ii. , n. ; _on the death of dr. swift_, iii. , n. ; original in a high degree, ii. , n. ; orrery's, lord, _remarks_: see orrery, fifth earl of; 'paper-sparing pope,' i. ; payment for writing, iii. , n. ; _plan for the improvement of the english language_, ii. ; _poetry; a rhapsody_, ii. , n. ; pope's condensation of sense, v. , n. ; parting with, iii. ; p. p. _clerk of this parish_, i. , n. ; prendergast, attacks, ii. , n. ; projectors, i. , n. ; _rules to servants_, ii. , n. ; sacheverell's sermon at the end of his suspension, i. , n. ; saving, habit of, iv. - ; _scoundrel_, use of, iii. , n. ; 'screen between me and death,' iii. , n. ; _sentiments of a church of england man_, ii. , n. ; _sermon on the trinity_, ii. , n. ; shallow fellow, a, v. , n. ; singularities, given to, ii. , n. ; 'spectacles and pills,' iv. ; steele, lines on, i. , n. ; stella's 'artifice of mischief,' v. ; _stella's birthday_, iv. , n. , , n. ; strong sense his excellence, i. ; study, hours of, ii. , n. ; style, a good neat, ii. ; according to hume not correct, ib., n. ; praised by him, iii. , n. ; tale of a tub, doubts as to the authorship, i. ; ii. , , n. ; he gives a copy to mrs. whiteway, i. , n. ; lost him a bishopric, i. , n. ; much superior to his other writings, ii. ; v. ; quotations from it boswell like jack, ii. ; dirtiness of the scotch churches, v. , n. ; temple's style, iii. , n. ; 'washed himself with oriental scrupulosity,' iv. , n. ; 'whiggism and atheism,' i. , n. . swimming. see johnson, swimming. swinfen, dr. samuel, johnson's godfather, i. , n. ; consults him about his health, i. ; intimate with him, i. , ; kind to his daughter, iii. , n. ; leaves a legacy to his grandson, iv. ; pembroke college, a member of, i. , n. . swinney. see mac swinny, owen. swinton, rev. mr., i. . swiss, johnson praises their wonderful policy, i. ; suffer from the _maladie du pays_, iii. . swiss guards, iv. , n. . sydenham, dr. thomas, _life_ by johnson, quoted, i. ; published, i. ; locke's latin verses, v. ; st. vitus's dance, i. . sydney, algernon, ii. . sylvanus's _first book of the iliad_, iii. . _sylvanus urban_, i. . sympathy, ii. - , - ; iii. . synod, 'a synod of cooks,' i. . synonymes, iv. . _system of ancient geography_, i. . _système de la nature_, v. . szeklers, ii. , n. . t. t', fitted to a, iv. . taaf, mr., ii. . tacitus, _agricola_, quoted, iii. , n. ; iv. ; _germania_, quoted, v. ; his writings are notes for an historical work, ii. . tailor, the metaphysical. see metaphysical. tait, rev. mr., v. . tait, mr., an organist, v. . talbot, lord chancellor, i. , n. . talbot, second lord, i. , . talbot, miss catharine, correspondence with mrs. carter, i. , n. ; greenwich park, describes, i. , n. ; _rambler_, contributes to the, i. ; criticises it, i. , nn. and ; williams, mrs., account of, i. , n. . _tale of a tub_. see swift. tales, telling tales of oneself, ii. . talk, above the capacity of the audience, iv. ; distinguished from conversation, iv. ; johnson loved to have it out, iii. ; talking for fame, iii. ; from books, v. ; of oneself, iii. ; on one topic, ib. talkers, exuberant public, ii. . talleyrand, v. , n. . tallow-chandler, in retirement, ii. . tameos, v. , n. . tanning, v. . tar, v. . tartary, ii. . _tartuffe_, ii. , n. ; iii. . tasker, rev. mr., iii. - . tasso, borrows a simile from lucretius, iii. . taste, changes in it, iii. , n. ; defined, ii. ; refinement of it, iv. ; reynolds's rule for judging it, iv. . _tatler_, end of its publication, i. , n. ; esquire, title of, i. , n. ; rural esquires, v. , n. ; great perfections without good breeding, ii. , n. . _tatler revived_, i. . taunton, iv. . taverns, admitting women, iv. ; felicity of england in its tavern life, ii. ; tavern chair the throne of human felicity, ii. , n. . _taxation no tyranny_, account of it planned, ii. ; published, ii. ; written at the desire of ministers, i. , n. ; ii. ; corrected by them, ii. - ; not attacked enough, ii. ; pelted with answers, ii. , n. ; sale, ii. , n. ; birmingham traders praised, ii. , n. ; drivers of negroes, iii. ; macaulay, mrs., attacked, ii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. . taxes, effect of their increase, ii. . taylor, chevalier, a quack, iii. - . taylor, jeremy, 'chief of sinners,' iv. ; _golden grove_, iv. ; _holy dying_, iii. , n. . taylor, rev. dr. john, account of him and his establishment, ii. ; his person, ii. ; his character by johnson, ii. ; iii. , ; all his geese swans, iii. ; ashbourne, his daily life, iii. ; iv. ; the water-fall, iii. ; garden, iii. ; bleeding, habit of, iii. ; boswell, gives, particulars of johnson, iv. ; laughed at by, iii. , n. ; and johnson visit him in , ii. ; in , iii. ; bull-dog, his, iii. ; bullocks, his talk is of,' iii. ; cattle, iii. , , n. ; chandelier of crystal, iii. ; christ church, oxford, enters, i. ; dinners at his london house, iii. , ; eagerness for preferments, ii. , n. ; 'elegant phraseology,' his, ii. , n. ; garrick's emphasis, anecdote of, i. ; mediates between garrick and johnson, i. ; house in westminster, i. ; iii. ; johnson's character, iii. company, not very fond of, iii. ; correspondence with, iii. , n. : see under johnson, letters; dread of annihilation, iii. , n. ; funeral, iv. ; heart, knowledge of, i. , n. ; invites, to dine on a hare, iii. ; reynolds's explanation of his intimacy with, iii. ; roars him down, iii. ; himself roused to a pitch of bellowing, iii. ; serious talk with him, iii. , n. ; wearies of ashbourne life, iii. , ; iv. , , n. , , , ; will, not in, iv. , n. ; writes sermons for him, i. ; iii. ; youth, friend of, iv. ; johnson's, mrs., death, i. ; iii. , n. ; langley, quarrels with, iii. , n. ; lawsuit, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. ; lichfield school, at, i. ; living in ruins and rubbish, iv. ; matriculation, i. ; neighbours, iii. ; sermons, iii. - ; sleep, observation on, iii. ; whig, a, ii. ; iii. ; widower, anecdote of a, iii. ; wife, separation from his, i. , n. ; wit, single instance of his, iii. ; mentioned, ii. , ; iii. , . taylor, mrs., rev. dr. john taylor's wife, separated from her husband, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. . taylor, john, a birmingham trader, i. . taylor, john, of christ church, oxford, confounded with dr. john taylor, i. , n. . taylor, john (_demosthenes_ taylor), iii. . taylor, william, of norwich, ii. , n. . taylor, mr., an engraver, iv. , n. . taylor, mr., a gentleman-artist, of bath, iii. . tea, garrick charges peg woffington with making it too strong, iii. ; his finest sort, i. , n. ; hanway's attack on its use, and johnson's defence, i. ; johnson a hardened tea-drinker, i. , n. : see under johnson; price of it in , i. , n. ; run tea, v. , n. ; tea-making _à l'anglaise_, ii. ; weak, generally made, iii. , n. ; wesley attacks its use, i. , n. . teaching, wretchedness of, i. . _tears of old may-day,_ i. . _telemachus, a mask_, i. ; ii. . tempÉ, iii. . temple, second earl, iv. , n. . temple, right rev. frederick, bishop of london, i. , n. . temple, rev. william johnson, account of him, i. ; iii. , n. ; boswell, correspondence with, i. , n. ; and he read gray all night, ii. , n. ; executor, iii. , n. ; last letter written to him, i. , n. ; occupies his chambers in the temple, i. ; visits him at mamhead, ii. ; gray's character, writes, i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. , n. ; johnson, compares, with the 'infidel pensioner hume,' ii. ; introduced to, ii. ; political speculations, unfit for, ii. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , . temple, sir william, drinking by deputy, iii. ; dutch free from spleen, iv. ; english prose, gave cadence to, iii. ; great generals, ii. ; _heroic virtue_, ii. , n. ; ireland, ancient state of, i. ; peerages and property, ii. ; style condemned by hume, iii. , n. ; praised by mackintosh, ib.; a model to johnson, i. . temple of fame, ii. . temptation, exposing people to it, iii. . tenants, their independence, v. : see landlords, and under scotland, hebrides, landlords and tenants. tenderness of heart, v. . _tenders_, v. , n. . teneriffe, iv. . tenison, thomas, archbishop of canterbury, psalmanazar introduced to him, iii. . tennyson, alfred, lord, poet-laureate, i. , n. ; _ulysses_ quoted, v. , n. . tenures, ancient, ii. ; iii. . terence, quoted, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , , n. . testimony, compared with argument, iv. . _tetty_ or _tetsey_, i. . thackeray, w. m., addison's _cato_, quotations from, i. , n. ; one failing, iv. , n. ; _history of the newcomes_ quoted, ii. , n. ; subscribed to the annuity for johnson's goddaughter, iv. , n. . thales, i. , n. . thames, budgell drowns himself in it, ii. ; v. ; convicts working on it, iii. , n. ; johnson and boswell row to greenwich, i. ; to blackfriars, ii. ; returns on it from rochester, iv. , n. ; _london_, mentioned in, i. ; new-england men at its mouth, v. ; ribaldry of passers-by, iv. . thatching, v. . _the one_, iv. , n. . theatres, french and english compared in point of decency, ii. , n. ; orange-girls, v. , n. ; proposal for a third one, iv. : see under london, covent garden, drury lane, and haymarket. thebes, ii. . theft, allowed in sparta, ii. ; iii. . thelwall, john, iv. , n. . theobald, lewis, _double falsehood_, iii. , n. ; pope, attacked by, ii. , n. ; shakespeare, edits, v. , n. ; warburton, compared with, i. ; helped by him, v. . theocritus, iv. . _theodosius_, ii. . _theophilus insulanus_, v. . theophrastus, v. . thicknesse, philip, criticises smollett, iii. - . thieves, all men naturally thieves, iii. . _thing_, not _the_, iv. . thinking, liberty of, ii. , . thirlby, dr. styan, iv. , n. . thirty-nine articles, articles of peace, ii. ; meaning of subscription, ii. ; petition for removing the subscription, ii. ; motion to consider it, ii. , n. . thomas, colonel, iv. , n. . thomas, nathaniel, iii. , n. . thomson, james, blank verse of the _seasons_, iv. , n. ; boswell's assistance to johnson in his _life_, ii. ; iii. , , ; character, his, not to be gathered from his works, iii. , n. ; cloud of words, iii. ; _edward and eleonora_ not licensed, i. , n. ; family, account of his, iii. ; johnson inserts him among the _lives_, iii. ; letters to his sisters, ii. ; iii. , ; licentiousness, ii. ; iii. ; _lives of thomson_, iii. - ; 'loathed much to write,' iii. ; poetical eye, i. ; ii. ; iii. ; 'queensberry, worthy,' ii. , n. ; quin's generosity to him, iii. ; scotland, never returned to, iii. ; _seasons_, quoted, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; by voltaire, i. , n. ; sisters, generosity to his, ii. ; iii. ; wine, love of, i. . thomson, rev. james, case of ecclesiastical censure, iii. - , . thomson, mr., a schoolmaster (the poet's brother-in-law), ii. ; iii. , . thornton, bonnell, _adventurer_, writes for the, i. , n. ; boswell enlivened by his witty sallies, i. ; _ode on st. cecilia's day_, i. ; _rambler_, parodies the, i. , n. ; _student_, writes for the, i. . thorp, mr. robert, of macclesfield, iv. . n. . thorpe, iii. . thoughts, command of one's, ii. , , n. ; inquisitive and perplexing, iv. , n. ; troublesome at night, ii. ; vexing, iii. . _thoughts on executive justice_, iv. , n. . _thoughts on the late transactions respecting falkland's islands_. see _falkland's islands_. thrale family, account of the, i. , n. . thrale, john, a london merchant, i. , n. . thrale, 'old,' the brewer, henry thrale's father, i. - . thrale, henry, account of him, i. , ; ambition of out-brewing whitbread, iii. , n. ; baretti, present to, iii. ; bath, visits, in , iii. ; in , iii. ; boswell's familiarity in speaking of him, i. , n. ; hospitality to, iii. ; writes to him, iii. ; brewery,--profits, i. ; iii. , , n. ; iv. , n. ; beer brewed, ii. ; iii. , n. ; £ , a year paid in excise, v. ; first sale of it, i. ; second sale, i. ; iv. , n. , ; cator, john, one of his executors, iv. ; champagne, his, iii. ; churches, intends to beautify two welsh, v. ; death, iv. ; false report of it, iii. ; dinners and breakfasts at his house, ii. , , , , , n. , , , n. , ; iii. , , ; iv. ; dislikes the times, iii. ; eating, immoderate in, iii. - ; iv. , n. ; expenses, iii. ; france, tour to, ii. - ; goldsmith's _haunch of venison_, mentioned in, iii. , n. ; questions a statement of his about horses, ii. ; gordon riots, property in danger, iii. ; flees from bath, ib., n. ; grosvenor square, house in, iv. ; heir, desires a male, ii. ; iii. , , n. ; highwayman, robbed by a, iii. , n. ; illness, dangerous, i. , n. ; iii. , , n. ; better, iii. , ; withdrawn from business, iii. ; very ill, iv. ; baretti's account of it, iv. , n. ; italy, projected tour to, ii. ; given up, iii. , , ; johnson's affection for him, iii. , n. ; iv. - , , ; wishes to hear '_the history of the thrales_ v. ; his feelings towards johnson, ii. ; iv. , , n. , , ; 'will go nowhere without him,' iii. , n. ; and the earl of marchmont, iii. ; epitaph on him, iv. , n. ; his executor, iv. ; receives a bequest of £ , iv. ; guardian of his children, iv. , n. ; illness in , i. ; intimacy not without restraint, iii. ; introduction to his family, i. , ; iii. ; kitchen, inquires into, ii. , n. ; loss by his death, iv. , , - ; prayer on it, i. , n. ; suggests, as a member of parliament, ii. , n. ; writes _the patriot_ for him, ii. ; lade, sir john, his nephew, iv. , n. ; melancholy, suffers from, iii. , n. ; 'worried by the _dog_,' iii. , n, ; money difficulties, iv. , n. ; 'my master,' i. , n. ; iii. ; portrait, iv. , n. ; prospects, loves, v. , n. ; receives £ , , iii. , n. , ; rome, will not die in peace without seeing, iii. , n. ; silent at oglethorpe's, v. ; society in his house, i. ; son, loses his only surviving, ii. , ; grief, his, iii. , n. ; _orbus et exspes_, iii. , n. ; at the assembly rooms, bath, iii. , n. ; son, loses his younger, iii. , n. ; southwark, member for, i. ; receives 'instructions' from the electors, ii. , n. ; election of , ii. , ; of , johnson writes his _addresses_, iii. , n. , - ; defeated, iii. ; house in the borough, ii. , n. ; iii. ; iv. , n. ; wales, tour to, ii. ; v. - ; wife's, his, jealousy, iii. , n. ; will, afraid of making his, iv. , n. ; account of it, iv. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. ; ii. , , ; iii. - , , n. , , , , n. , , n. , , , , , n. ; v. , , n. . thrale, henry (son of mr. and mrs. thrale), death, ii. , ; iii. ; johnson's letter on it, i. , n. ; his love of him, ii. ; iii. . thrale, hester lynch (miss salusbury, afterwards mrs. piozzi), account of her, i. - ; birth, i. , n. , ; character by johnson, i. ; by miss burney, iv. , n. ; dress and person, i. - ; accident to her eye, iii. ; argyll street, house in, iv. , ; baretti, character of, ii. , n. ; flatters her, iii. , n. ; ignorance of the scriptures, v. , n. ; knowledge of languages, i. , n. ; quarrel with, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , ; her account, ib., n. ; bath, visits, in , iii. , ; in , iii. ; an evening at mrs. montagu's, iii. ; in , iv. , , n. ; beattie, dr., loves, ii. ; beauclerk's anecdote of the dogs, v. , n. ; beauclerk, hatred of, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; his truthfulness, ib.; birthplace, v. - ; boswell, accuses, of spite, iv. , n. ; of treachery, iv. , n. , ; advises, not to publish the _life of sibbald_, iii. ; alludes to her second marriage, iii. ; argues with, on shakespeare and milton, iv. ; brother david, iii. , n. ; compliments, on his long head, iv. ; controversy with, about mrs. montagu, v. ; dines with her, iv. ; hospitality to, iii. ; introduced to her, ii. ; 'loves,' ii. , ; ms. _journal_, reads, ii. ; proposes an epistle in her name, v. ; _british synonymy_, iv. ; burke's son, can make nothing of, iv. , n. ; burney, miss, letters to, iv. , n. ; calculating and declaiming, iii. ; canvasses for mr. thrale, iii. , n. ; character, influence of vice on, iii. ; children, her, births, ii. , n. , ; iii. , n. , , ; deaths, ii. , n. ; iii. ; three living out of twelve, iv. , n. ; unfriendly with her married daughter, v. , n. ; johnson's kindness to them, iv. ; clerk, gives a crown to an old, v. ; _clippers_, warned of, iii. ; common-place book, iv. ; conceit of parts, iii. ; congreve, quotes from, ii. ; dates, neglects, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; demosthenes's 'action,' ii. ; 'despicable dread of living in the borough,' iv. , n. ; divorces, iii. - ; 'dying with a grace,' iv. , n. ; errol, lord, at the coronation, v. , n. ; estate, prefers the owner to the, ii. ; fall from her horse, ii. ; fermor's, mrs., account of pope, ii. , n. ; flattery, coarse mode of, ii. ; johnson talks with her about it, v. ; foster's _sermons_, quotes, iv. , n. ; france, tour to, ii. - ; french, contentment of the, v. , n. ; convent, visits a, ii. ; maxims, attacks, iii. , n. ; garrick's poetry, praises, ii. ; good breeding, want of, iv. ; gordon riots, alarmed at the, iii. , n. ; gray's _odes_, admires, ii. ; grosvenor square, removes to, iv. , n. ; hogarth's account of johnson, i. , n. ; illness, in , iii. ; inaccuracy, her extreme, in general, i. , n. ; iii. , ; no anxiety about truth, iii. , ; her defence of it, iii. ; instances of it--_anecdotes_, iv. - ; anecdote about in _vino veritas_, ii. , n. ; barber's visit to langton, i. , n. ; garrick's election to the club, i. ; goldsmith and the _vicar of wakefield_, i. , , n. ; johnson's answer to robertson, iii. , n. ; and g. j. cholmondeley, iv. ; harshness, i. ; lines on lade, iv. , n. ; mother calling _sam_, iv. , n. ; and small kindnesses, iv. , - ; _verses to a lady_, i. , n. ; 'natural history of the mouse,' ii. , n. ; _sutile_ mistaken for _futile_, iii. , n. ; indelicacy, iv. , n. ; insolence of wealth, shows the, iii. ; interpolation in one of johnson's letters, suspected, ii. , n. ; italian, an, on clean shirts, v. , n. ; jelly, her, compared with mrs. abington's, ii. ; johnson's account of french sentiments and meat, ii. , n. ; advice about the brewery, iii. , n. ; about sweet-meats, iii. ; iv. ; on mr. thrale's death, iii. , n. ; anxiety not to offend, iii. , n. ; appeals to her love and pity, iv. , n. ; appearances of friendship kept up with, iv. , ; apprehensive of evil, v. , n. ; asperses, i. ; wishes to depreciate him, i. , n. ; belief, fantastical account of, i. , n. ; biographers, i. , n. ; blames her conduct, iv. ; his friendly animadversions, iii. ; change in her feeling towards, iv. , n. ; on children's books, iv. , n. ; conversation too strong for the great, iv. ; copyist, iv-- ; dislike of extravagant praise, iii. ; of singularity, ii. , n. ; doubts her friendship, iv. , n. ; dress, iii. ; drives her from his mind, iv. , n. ; and the earl of marchmont, iii. ; her 'enchantment over,' v. ; epigram, translates, i. , n. ; flatters, ii. , n. , ; flatters her, iii. ; household, asks about, iii. - ; illness in , i. ; introduction to her, i. ; _journey into north wales_, v. , n. ; her kindness to, i. ; laugh, ii. , n. ; lectures, iv. , n. ; letters, publishes them for £ , i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; arranged inaccurately, i. , n. ; error in date, iii. ; possible alterations and interpolations, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , , n. ; read by walpole, iv. ; her own 'studied epistles,' iii. ; his letters to her from scotland, ii. , ; about the gordon riots, iii. - ; her letters to him in scotland, v. , n. (for other letters, see under johnson, letters); love of her children, iv. , n. ; 'loved' by her and boswell, ii. ; mode of eating, i. , n. ; and mrs. montagu, iv. , n. , , n. l; neglects, iv. - ; leaves him in sickness and solitude, iv. , n. ; 'one pleasant day since she left him,' iv. ; nursed in her house, iv. , ; _ode_ to her, v. - ; parody on burke, iv. ; pleasure in her society, i. - ; severe to her, iv. , n. ; stuns her, v. ; style, iii. , n. ; supposed wish to marry her, iv. , n. ; takes leave of her in april, , iv. , n. ; talk, iv. , n. ; tenderness to her mother, ii. , n. ; urges economy, iv. , n. ; wishes for her and mr. thrale in the hebrides, iii. ; would not toast her in whisky, v. ; 'yoke' put upon her, iv. ; lennox, mrs., liked by nobody, iv. , n. ; lichfield, visits, v. , nn. and ; long, dudley, praises, iv. ; lyttelton's vision, iv. , n. ; malone's criticism on her _anecdotes_, iv. ; marriage, second, alluded to by boswell, ii. ; signs that it was coming on, iv. , n. ; takes place, iv. ; marrying inferiors in rank, ii. ; middle class abroad, absence of a happy, ii. , n. ; montagu, mrs., praises, iv. , n. ; mother, death of her, ii. ; musgrave, mr., ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; 'my mistress,' or 'madam,' i. ; _officious_, iv. , n. ; paris, contradictions in, iii. , n. ; _piozzi letters_: see above under mrs. thrale, _johnson's letters_; pope's _universal prayer_, iii. - ; portrait, iv. , n. ; praise, blasts by, iv. ; presto, the dog, iv. ; prior's love verses, praises, ii. ; purse, uneasiness at losing her, v. ; _regale_, v. , n. ; richardson's love of praise, v. , n. ; 'severe and knowing,' iii. , n. ; siddons, mrs., as euphrasia, v. , n. ; son, loses her only surviving, ii. , ; iii. , , n. ; johnson's advice to her, iii, , n. ; son, loses her younger, iii. , n. ; thrale family, describes the rise of the, i. , n. ; thrale's death, iv. ; effect on her and johnson, v. ; describes his manners, i. , n. ; jealous of him, iii. , n. ; _three warnings_, ii. ; tongue, could not restrain her, iv. ; truth, indifference to: see above under inaccuracy; wales, estate in it, ii. ; tour there, ii. ; v. - ; wit, iv. , n. ; young's, dr., ignorance of rhopalick verses, v. , n. ; mentioned, ii. , , n. , ; i . , , , , , , ; iv. , n. , , , , ; v. . thrale, miss, baretti's _dialogues_ written for her, ii. , n. ; bath, at, in , iii. ; birth-day party, iii. , n. ; harpsichord, playing on the, ii. ; johnson teaches her latin, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; is visited by her in his last illness, iv. , n. ; marie antoinette, seen by, ii. ; marries admiral lord keith, v. , n. ; mother, unfriendly with her, v. , n. ; portrait, iv. , n. ; queeny, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; mentioned, iii. ; iv. , n. . thrale, miss sophia, johnson advises her to study arithmetic, iv. , n. . _three warnings, the_, ii. . threshing, v. . throckmorton, mr., of weston underwood, v. , n. . throne, the, something behind it greater than it, iii. , n. . thuanus (de thou), johnson thinks of translating his history, iv. ; mentioned, i. , , n. . thucydides, his quotations from homer, iii. . thurlow, first lord, boswell bows the intellectual knee to him, iv. , n. ; _journal of a tour_, praises, i. , n. ; writes to him, iv. ; his answer, iv. ; character by sir w. jones, iv. , n. ; copyright, speech on, ii. , n. , ; cowper, treatment of, iv. , n. ; duel with andrew stuart, ii. , n. ; horne tooke, encounter with, iv. , n. ; prosecutes him, iii. , n. ; horsley, rewards, iv. ; johnson's companion, iii. ; generous offer to, iv. ; letter to, iii. ; v. , n. ; letter from him, iv. ; pension, proposed addition to, iv. - , - , - ; would prepare himself to meet him, iv. ; legal opinion on rev. j. thomson's case, iii. ; macbean and the charterhouse, i. ; prince of wales and sir john ladd, iv. , n. ; 'puts his mind to yours,' iv. ; reynolds, letter to, iv. , n. ; royal marriage bill, ii. , n. ; small certainties, ii. , n. ; taylor's, dr., lawsuit, iii. ; mentioned, iv. . thurot, m., iv. . tiber, iii. . tibullus, grainger's translation, ii. ; quoted, iv. , n. . tichborne trial, v. , n. . tickell, richard, _epistle from the hon. charles fox_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; _the project_, iii. , n. . tickell, thomas, aided blackmore in his _creation_, ii. ; _life_ by johnson, iv. . tiger, river, v. , n. . tillemont, gibbon praises his accuracy, i. , n. . tillotson, john, archbishop of canterbury, _sermons_, iii. ; on transubstantiation, v. . time and space, iv. . _times, the_, quoted, v. , n. . timidity, iv. , n. . timmins, mr. samuel, _dr. johnson in birmingham_ quoted, i. , n. , , n. . tindal, dr., ii. , n. . tippoo, iii. , n. . _titi, prince_, ii. . toasts, iv. . toland, john, i. . tolcher, old mr., i. , n. . toleration, ii. - ; iv. , ; universal, iii. . tomasi, signora, ii. , n. . _to miss--_, i. . _to miss--on her giving the authour a purse_, ii. . _tommy prudent_, iv. , n. . tonson, jacob, budgell's _epilogue_, iii. ; dryden's engagement with him, i. , n. . tonson, jacob, the younger, johnson praises him, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. , n. . tooke, horne (at first rev. john horne), beckford's speech to the king, iii. , n. ; boswell, altercation with, iii. , n. ; _diversions of purley_, iii. , n. ; imprisonment, iii. , n. ; writ of error, iii. , n. ; johnson's etymologies, criticises, iii. ; reads the preface to his _dictionary_ with tears, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; _letter to mr. dunning_, iii. ; living, resigns his, iii. , n. ; norton, sir fletcher, attacks, ii. , n. ; pillory, should have been set in the, iii. ; too much literature for it, iii. ; lord mansfield durst not venture it, ib., n. ; thurlow, encounter with, iv. , n. . topham, edward, proprietor of _the world_, iii. , n. . toplady, rev. mr., attacked by wesley, v. , n. ; meets johnson at dilly's, ii. , , . topographical works, iii. , n. . topping, mr., of christ church, iii. . topsell, edward, i. , n. . tories, defined, i. ; iii. , n. ; generated, how, iii. ; hostile to spain, i. , n. ; identified with jacobites, i. , n. ; _of tory and whig_, iv. ; opposition to the court, ii. ; reverence for government, iv. l ; whigs, enmity with, iv. ; whigs when out of place, i. . torrÉ, m., fire-work maker, iv. . torture, i. , , n. . tottenham, iii. , n. . touch, sense of, ii. . tour of europe, iii. . towers, dr. j., _essay on the life of johnson_, iv. , n. ; johnson's _life of milton_, praises, iv. ; _letter to dr. johnson, &c_., ii. . townley, c., an engraver, iv. , n. . townley, charles, iii. , n. . townmalling, iii. . townsend, alderman, johnson attacks him, ii. , n. ; lord mayor, iii. ; iv. , n. ; refuses to pay the land-tax, iii. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . townshend, second viscount, ii. , n. ; v. , n. . townshend, fourth viscount (afterwards first marquis), i. , n. . townshend, right hon. charles, akenside, friendship with, iii. ; 'champagne speech,' ii. , n. ; jokes and wit, ii. ; ib., n. ; kames, lord, criticises, ii. , n. . townshend, hon. john, tickell's _epistle_, ii. , n. . townshend, right hon. thomas (afterwards first viscount sydney), goldsmith's 'tommy townshend,' iii. , n. ; attacks johnson, iv. ; moves that nowell's sermon be burnt, iv. , n. . townson, rev. dr., ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . trade, difficulty, has not much, iii. , n. ; gaming, like, v. ; injury done to the body, ii. ; leisure of those engaged, v. ; military spirit injured by it, ii. ; opportunity of rising in the world, ii. ; produces no capital accession of wealth, ii. ; but intermediate good, ii. ; profit in pleasure, ii. ; rapid rise of traders, i. ; writers on it, ii. . _trade, the_ (the booksellers of london), i. ; ii. ; iii. . tradesmen, chatham's description of the honest tradesman, v. , n. ; excite anger by their opulence, v. ; fires in the parlour, v. ; funeral-sermon for a tradesman's daughter, ii. ; retired from business, ii. ; one attacked by the stone, iii. , n. ; wives, their, iii. . tradition, untrustworthy, v. ; of the church, v. . tragedians, ridiculed in _the idler_, v. , n. . tragedy, a ludicrous one, iii. ; passions purged by it, iii. ; worse for being acted, ii. , n. ; v. : see players. translations, how to judge of their merit, iii. ; sir john hill's contract for one, ii. ; n. ; what books can and what cannot be translated, iii. , . _transpire_, iii. . transport, rational, iii. . transubstantiation, v. , . transylvania, ii. , n. . trapaud, general cyrus, v. . trapaud, governor, v. , . trapp, dr. i. , n. ; iv. , n. . travellers, ancient, guessed; modern travellers measure, iii. ; mean to tell the truth, iii. ; modern mostly laughed at, iii. ; strange turn to be displeased, iii. ; unsatisfactory unless trustworthy, ii. . travelling, advice about it, i. ; cowper, gibbon, goldsmith and locke on the age for travelling, iii. - ; human life great object of remark, iii. , n. ; idle habits broken off, i. ; johnson's love of it, iii. - ; _rasselas_, described in, i. , n. ; rates of travelling london to st. andrews, i. , n. ; to edinburgh, v. , n. ; to harwich, i. , n. ; to lichfield, i. , n. ; ii. ; iii. ; to milan, i. , n. ; to salisbury, iv. , n. ; supplies little to the conversation, iii. ; time ill spent on it in early manhood, iii. , . travels, books of, writers very defective, ii. ; should start with full minds, iii. ; writing under a feigned character, iv. . treason, constructive, iv. . _treatise on painting_, i. , n. . trecothick, alderman, account of him, iii. , n. ; his english, iii. , ; lord mayor, iii. . tree, given a jerk by divines, iv. . trees, their propagation, ii. . see under scotland, trees. trentham, i. , n. . trevelyan, sir g. o., johnson and the rev. john macaulay, v. . n. ; rev. kenneth macaulay's _history of st. kilda_, v. , n. . trial by duel, v. . tricks, either knavish or childish, iii. . trifles, life composed of them, i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; contentment with them, iii. - ; their importance, i. ; iii. . trimlestown, lord, iii. - . trinity, doctrine of the, ii. - ; v. . _tristram shandy_. see sterne. tronchin, m., iii. , n. . trotter, beatrix, iii. . trotter, ----, an engraver, iv. , n. . trotz, professor, i. . troughton, lieutenant, a loquacious wanderer, v. . truth, children to be strictly trained in it, iii. ; comfort of life, essential to the, iv. ; consolation drawn from it, i. ; contests concerning moral truth, iii. ; deviations from it very frequent, iii. - ; human experience its test, i. ; 'i'd tell truth and shame the devil,' ii. ; moral and physical, iv. ; 'not at home,' i. ; obligatory, how far, iii. , ; iv. - ; painful to be forced to defend it, iii. ; perpetual vigilance needed, iii. ; iv. ; publishing it against oneself, iv. ; v. ; religious truth established by martyrdom, ii. ; rights to utter it and knock down for uttering it, iv. ; sick, should be told to the, iv. ; society held together by it, iii. ; story, essential to a, ii. : see under johnson, truthfulness. tuam, archbishop of, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . tull, jethro, v. . tunbridge school, iv. . tunbridge wells, mrs. montagu writes from it in , ii. . n. ; print of the company there in , i. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . turgot, existence of matter, i. , n. . turkey and the turks, boswell wishes to visit it, iv. ; opium in common use, iv. ; sweep greece, ii. ; want of _stirpes_, ii. ; mentioned, v. . turkish lady, a, i. . _turkish spy_, iv. ; v. . turner, john, a fencing-master, v. , n, . turnpikes, v. , n. . tursellinus, i. . turton, dr., iii. . twalmley the great, iv. . twells, leonard, _life of dr. e. pocock_, iv. . twickenham, boswell and johnson's drive to it, ii. - ; cambridge's, mr., villa, ii. ; highwaymen, iii. , n. ; society, ii. . twining, rev. thomas, _recreations and studies of a country clergyman_, johnson's dislike of 'the former, the latter,' iv. , n. ; funeral, iv. , n. ; the old willow-tree at lichfield, iv. , n. . twiss, richard, _travels_, ii. . tyburn, executions there abolished, iv. ; procession to it, iv. , n. ; 'tyburn's elegiac lines,' ib.: see executions. tyers, jonathan, iii. . tyers, thomas, account of him, iii. - ; _biographical sketch of dr. johnson_, iii. ; v. , n. ; johnson like a ghost: see johnson, ghost; rapid composition, i. , n. ; talked as if on oath, ii. , n. ; wish to visit india and poland, iii. ; tom restless of _the idler_, iii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . tyranny, remedy against it, ii. . tyrawley, lord, account of him, ii. , n. ; chesterfield's saying, ii. . tyrconnel, lord, savage's letter to him, i. , n. ; patronised by him, i. , , n. . tyrwhitt, thomas, chatterton's poems, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. . tytler, a. f. (son of w. tytler, afterwards lord woodhouselee), meets johnson, v. , n. , , n. , . tytler, william, _history of mary queen of scots_, i. ; v. , n. , ; johnson's _journey_, praises, ii. - ; meets him, v. , . u. udson, mr., ii. . ulysses, i. . unclubable, i. , n. , , n. ; iv. , n. . understanding, _inverted_, iii. ; man's superiority over woman, iii. ; propagating it, ii. , n. ; reynolds's rule for judging it, iv. . uneasiness, iv. . un-idea'd, 'a set of wretched unidea'd girls,' i. . _union, the_, i. , n. . unitarians, ii. , n. i; iv. , n. . _unius lacertae_, iii. . _universal chronicle, or weekly gazette_, i. , , n. . _universal history_, iii. ; iv. . _universal visiter_, i. , n. , ; ii. . university, conversation of a man taught at an english one, v. ; english and scotch compared, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; fellowships, value of, iii. ; foreign professorships, iii. ; gibbon, attacked by, iii. , n. ; rich, not too, as adam smith asserts, iii. ; school where everything may be learnt, should be a, ii. ; subscription to the articles, ii. ; v. ; theory and practice, ii. ; iii. : see under cambridge and oxford, and under scotland, aberdeen, edinburgh, glasgow, and st. andrews. _unscottified_, ii. ; v. , n. . unwins, the, cowper's friends, i. . upper-ossory, lord, iii. , n. . upstarts, getting into parliament, ii. , . urbino, v. . urie, captain, v. . urns, iv. , n. ; v. , n. . _ursa major_. see johnson, bear. usher, archbishop, assists lydiat, i. , n. ; luminary of the irish church, ii. . usher, at a school, i. . usury, law against, iii. . utility, beauty not dependent on it, ii. ; iv. . _utopia_, iii. , n. . utrecht, boswell a student there, i. , ; ii. ; william pitt (earl of chatham), a student, ii. , n. . uttoxeter market, johnson does penance there, i. , n. ; iv. ; michael johnson's shop, i. , n. . uzà�s, duke of, iii. , n. . v. vacancies, eagerness for, iii. . vachell, william, iii. , n. . vacuum, i. , n. . 'vagabond, mr.,' iii. , n. . _vagabondo, il_, i. ; iii. . vails, ii. . valencia, ii. , n. ; iii. . valetudinarians, ii. ; johnson's disgust at them, iii. , . vallancy, colonel, iv. , . vanbrugh, sir john, attempted to answer jeremy collier, iv. , n. ; _provoked husband_, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; reynolds's tribute to him, iv. . vane, anne, v. , n. . vane, lady, v. , n. . _vanessa_, ii. , n. . _vanity of human wishes_, account of it, i. - ; price paid for it, i. , n. ; rapidly composed, i. ; ii. ; written mostly at hampstead, i. ; boswell finds in it the means of happiness, iii. , n. ; byron's admiration of it, i. , n. ; death, 'kind nature's signal of retreat,' ii. ; de quincey on the opening lines, i. , n. ; garrick's sarcasm on it, i. ; johnson reads it with tears, iv. , n. ; misery, 'the doom of man,' iii. ; v. ; 'patron and the jail,' i. ; _rasselas_, resemblance to, i. ; scott's admiration of it, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _spreads_ changed into _burns_, iii. - ; vane and sedley, v. ; wolsey, cardinal, iii. , n. . vansittart, dr., account of him, i. , n. ; v. , n. ; story of the flea and the lion, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . vass, lauchland, v. , . veal, mrs., her ghost, ii. . veale, thomas, iv. , n. . venice, beauclerk plundered there by a gambler, i. , n. ; johnson wishes to visit it, iii. ; mentioned, i. ; v. , n. . venus, of apelles, iv. . _veracious_, iv. , n. . veracity. see truth. _verbiage_ ii. ; iii. . _verecundulus_, i. , n. . vernon's parish clerk, v. , n. . versailles, ii. , ; theatre, ii. , n. . verses, in a dead language, ii. ; making them, ii. . _verses on ireland_, iii. . _verses on a sprig of myrtle_, i. . _verses to mr. richardson on his sir charles grandison_, ii. . vertot, ii. ; iv. . vesey, right hon. agmondesham, gentle manners, his, iv. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; ii. ; professor in the imaginary college, v. . vesey, mrs., evenings at her house described by langton, iii. ; iv. , n. ; by hannah more, iii. , n. ; by horace walpole, iii. , n. ; by miss burney, iii. , n. ; by johnson, ib., n. ; wishes to introduce johnson to raynal, iv. . vestris, the dancer, iv. . _vexing thoughts_, iii. . _vicar of wakefield_. see goldsmith. vice, character not hurt by it, iii. ; compared with virtue, iii. ; mandeville's doctrine: see mandeville. _vicious intromission_, johnson's argument, ii. - , ; iii. ; v. . victor, benjamin, iv. . victoria, queen, death-warrants, iii. , n. . vida, i. , n. . _vidit et erubuit_, iii. . vilette, rev. mr., dodd's dedication to him, iii. , n. ; his virtues, iv. . _village, the_, a poem, iv. , n. , . villiers, sir george, his ghost, iii. . vincent, william, dean of westminster, i. , n. . _vindication of the licensers of the stage_, i. ; ii, , n. . virgil, _aeneid_, its story, iv. ; aeneas's treatment of dido, iv. ; burke's ragged copy, iii. , n. ; farming, love of, v. ; homer, compared with, iii. ; johnson reads him, ii. ; iv. ; juvenile translations, i. ; _machinery_, his, iv. ; pope, less talked of than, iii. ; printing-house, describes a, v. - ; theocritus, compared with, iv. ; quotations: _eclogues_ i. --i. ; _eclogues_ i. --iii. , n. ; _eclogues_ ii. --iii. , n. ; , n. ; _eclogues_ iii. --v. , n, ; _eclogues_ iii. --v. , n. ; _eclogues_ viii. --i. , n. ; _georgics_ ii. --iv. , n. ; _georgics_ iii. --ii. , n. ; _georgics_ iii. --ii. ; _georgics_ iv. l --iv. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. --v. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. l --iv. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. o --v. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. --v. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. --iv. , n. ; _aeneid_ i. -iii. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. --iii. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. --ii. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. --iii. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. l --iii. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. --v. , n. ; _aeneid_ ii. --i. ; _aeneid_ iii. --ii. ; _aeneid_ vi. --v. ; _aeneid_ vi. l --v. , n. ; _aeneid_ vi. --iv. , n. ; _aeneid_ vi. -- . ; _aeneid_ xii. --ii. , n. . virtue, how far followed by happiness, i. , n. ; men naturally virtuous compared with those who overcome inclinations, iv. ; not natural to man, iii. ; practised for the sake of character, iii. , ; scholastic, ii. ; why preferable to vice, iii. . _virtue, an ethick epistle_, iii. , n. . _vision of theodore the hermit_, i. , , n. . vivacity, an art, ii. . volcanoes, strata of earth in them, ii. . volga, iv. . voltaire, 'après tout, c'est un monde passable,' i. ; attacks, on answers to, v. , n. ; boswell visits him, i. , , n. ; ii. ; iii. , n. ; v. ; bouhours, ii. , n. ; byng, admiral, i. ; _candide_, i. ; iii. ; 'cerbères de la littérature,' v. , n. ; charles xii's dress, ii. , n. ; derham, william, v. , n. ; des maizeaux's _life of bayle_, i. , n, ; dubos, ii. , n. ; _essai sur les moeurs_, ii. , n. ; fame, his, iii. , ; forgotten ideas, the situation of, i. , n. ; frederick the great, contest with, i. ; v. , n. ; _ganganelli's letters_, iii. ; hay, lord charles, iii. , n. ; hénault, ii. , n. ; _history of the war in _, v. ; _histoire de louis xiv_, v. ; holbach's _système de la nature_, v. , n. ; hume, his echo, ii. ; insurrection of - , account of the, iii. ; johnson attacks him, i. , , n. ; praises his knowledge, but attacks his honesty, i. , n. ; his reply, i. ; and frederick the great, i. ; _julia mandeville_, reviews, ii. , n. ; kames, lord, ii. , n. ; _le désastre de lisbonne_, iv. , n. ; _le monde comme il va_, i. , n. ; leroi, the watch-maker, ii. , n. ; lewis xiv, celebrated in many languages, i. ; and mlle. de la vallière, v. , n. ; loved a striking story, iii. ; macdonald, sir james, v. , n. ; malagrida, iv. , n. ; master of english oaths, i. , n. ; maupertuis's death, ii. , n. ; middle class in england and france, ii. , n. ; montagu's, mrs., _essay_, ii. ; moréri, v. , n. ; narrator, good, ii. ; newton, leibnitz and clarke, v. , n. ; pope and dryden, distinguishes, ii. ; pope, visits, i. , n. ; pretender, reflections on the, v. - ; read less than formerly, iv. ; reynolds's allegorical picture, v. , n. ; rousseau, compared with, ii. ; shakespeare, attacks, i. ; ii. , n. ; made him known to the french, ii. , n. ; stuart, house of, v. ; torture in france, i. , n. ; trial, has not yet stood his, v. ; _universal history_, v. ; _vir est acerrimi ingenii et paucarum literarum_, ii. ; wesley calls him coxcomb and cynic, v. , n. ; witchcraft, v. , n. ; wonders, caught greedily at, i. , n. ; iii. , n. . vossius, isaac, i. , n. . voting, privilege of, ii. . vows, cowley's lines on them, iii. , n. ; johnson's warning against them, ii. ; a snare for sin, iii. ; if unnecessary a folly and a crime, iii. , n. . _vox viva_, v. . _voyage to lisbon_, i. , n. . _voyages to the south sea_. see south sea. vranyken, university of, i. . vulgar, the, children of the state, ii. ; iv. . vyse, rev. dr., boswell, letter to, iii. ; johnson's letter to him, iii. ; mentioned, iv. , n. . w. wade, general, calls _the_ m'farlane _mr._ m'farlane, v. , n. ; his hut, v. . wager, charles, ii. , n. . wages, raising those of day-labourers wrong, iv. ; v. ; women-servants' less than men-servants', ii. . wake, archbishop, ii. , n. . waldegrave, lady, ii. , n. . wales, abergeley, v. ; angle-sea, ii. ; v. ; bâch y graig (bachycraigh), iii. , n. , ; v. , ; bangor, ii. ; v. , , ; beaumaris, v. - ; bible in welsh, v. , ; bodryddan, v. , n. ; bodville, v. - ; boswell proposes a tour, iii. , ; brecon, iii. ; bryn o dol, v. ; caernarvon, v. , ; castles, compared with scotch, ii. ; v. , n. ; vast size, v. , , - , ; charitable establishment, iii. ; chirk castle, v. ; churches at bodville neglected, v. ; clwyd, river, v. ; conway, v. , ; danes, settlement of, v. ; denbigh, ii. ; v. - , ; dymerchion, v. , ; elwy, river, v. ; great families kept a kind of court, v. ; gwaynynog, iv. , n. ; v. , n. , , - ; hiring of harvest-men, v. ; holywell, v. - ; inhospitality, v. ; inns, v. - ; johnson's tour to wales, ii. , , , ; v. : see _journey into north wales_; kefnamwyellh, v. ; literature, indifference to, v. ; llanerk, v. ; llangwinodyl, v. , ; llannerch, v. ; llanrhaiadr, v. ; lleweney hall, johnson visits it, ii. ; v. - ; description of it, v. ; pales and gates brought from it, v. ; llyn badarn, v. ; llyn beris, v. ; maesmynnan, v. ; manuscripts, ii. ; methodists, v. ; mold, v. ; mutinous in , iii. , n. ; offers nothing for speculation, ii. ; oswestry, v. ; parson's awe of johnson, v. , n. ; penmaen mawr, ii. ; v. , ; penmaen rhôs, v. , ; pwlheli, v. ; _rivers_, v. , n. ; ruabon, v. , n, ; ruthin castle, v. ; second sight, ii. ; tydweilliog, v. , ; ustrad, river, v. , n. ; welsh language, how far related to irish, i. ; scheme for preserving it, v. ; used in the church services, v. , , , , , ; welshmen, generally have the spirit of gentlemen, iii. ; wrexham, ii. , w. ; v. . wales, prince of. see prince of wales. walker, john, 'celebrated master of elocution,' iv. ; dedication to johnson, iv. , n. . walker, joseph cooper, i. ; iii. , n. . walker, thomas, the actor, ii. . walking, habit of, i. , n. . wall, dr., iv. . wall, cost of a garden wall, iv. . wall, _taking_ the, i. ; v. . wallace, ----, a scotch author of the first distinction, ii. , n. . waller, edmund, amoret and sacharissa, ii. ; _divine poesie_, the communion of saints, iv. , n. ; dryden, studied by, iv. , n. ; _epistle to a lady_, v. , n. ; grandson, a plain country gentleman, v. ; great-grandson, at aberdeen, v. ; _life_ by johnson, iv. , n. , , n. , ; _loving at first sight_, iv. ; _reflections on the lord's prayer_, iv. , n. ; water-drinker, iii. , n. ; women, praises of, ii. . walmsley, gilbert, character by johnson, i. ; iii. ; colson, letter to, i. ; debtor to mrs. johnson, i. , n. ; garrick, letter to, i. , n. ; scholarship, ii. , n. ; greek, knowledge of, iv. , n. ; house, ii. ; johnson and garrick, recommends, i. ; johnson threatens to put _irene_ into the _spiritual court_, i. ; whig, a, i. , ; iii. , n. ; v. . walmsley, mrs., i. - . walpole, horatio (afterwards first baron walpole), iii. , n. . walpole, horace (afterwards fourth earl of orford), adams the architects, ii. , n. ; addresses to the king in , iv. , n. ; arbitrary power, courtiers in favour of, iii. , n. ; arithmetician, a woeful, iii. , n. ; professor sanderson and the multiplication table, ii. , n. ; astle, thomas, i. , n. ; atheism and bigotry first cousins, iv. , n. ; atterbury on burnet's _history_, ii. , n. ; balloons, iv. , n. ; barrington, daines, iv. ; barry's _analysis_, iv. , n. ; bate and the _morning post_, iv. , n. ; beauclerk's library, iv. , n. ; beckford's bribery bill, ii. , n. ; speech to the king, iii. , n. ; tyrannic character, iii. , n. ; _biographia britannica_, iii. , n. ; blagden on boswell's _life_, iv. , n. ; boccage, mme. du, iv. , n. ; _bonmots_, collection of, iii. , n. ; boswell calls on him, iv. , n. ; _corsica_, ii. , n. , , n. ; _life of johnson_, iv. , n. ; presence, silent in, ib.; burke's wit, iv. , n. ; bute's, lord, familiar friends, i. , n. ; and the tenure of the judges, ii. , n. ; cameron's execution, i. , n. ; chambers's _treatise on architecture_, iv. , n. ; chatham's funeral, iv. , n. ; chatterton and goldsmith, iii. , n. ; chesterfield as a patron, iv. , n. ; wit, ii. , n. ; cibber, colley, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; city address to the king in , iv. , n. ; city and blackfriars bridge, i. , n. ; clarke, dr., and queen caroline, iii. , n. ; clive, mrs., iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; cock lane ghost, i. , n. ; _codrington, life of colonel_, iii. , n. ; cornwallis's capitulation, iii. , n. ; _critical review_, iii. , n. ; _cross readings_, iv. , n. ; cumberland, william, duke of, cruelty of, ii. , n. ; cumberland's _odes_, iii. , n. ; dalrymple, sir john, ii. , n. ; dashwood, sir f., ii. , n. ; devonshire, third duke of, iii. , n. ; dodd's execution, iii. , n. ; attempt to bribe the chancellor, iii. , n. ; sermon at the magdalen house, iii. , n. ; dodsley, robert, ii. , n. ; drummond's _travels_, v. , n. ; dublin theatre riot, i. , n. ; duelling, ii. , n. ; dundas, 'starvation,' ii. , n. ; dunning's motion on the influence of the crown, iv. , n. ; eton, revisits, iv. , n. ; fitzherbert's suicide, ii. , n. ; fitzpatrick, richard, iii. , n. ; freethinking, iii. , n. ; french, affect philosophy and free-thinking, iii. , n. ; gentleman's visit to london in , iv. , n. ; ladies, indelicacy of the talk of, ii. , n, ; iii. , n. ; meals, ii. , n. ; middling and common people, ii. , n. ; philosophy, iii. , n. ; _savans_, iii. , n. ; 'talk gruel and anatomy,' iv. , n. ; gaming-clubs, iii. , n. ; garrick's acting, iv. , n. ; funeral, iv. , n. ; george i and miss brett, i. , n. ; burnt two wills, ii. , n. ; his will burnt, ib.; iv. , n. ; george ii and _alexander's feast_, i. , n. ; character, i. , n. ; and the fast of jan. , ii. , n. ; and his father's will, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; george iii aims at despotism, i. , n. ; as commander-in-chief, iii. , n. ; coronation, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; and sir john dalrymple, ii. , n. ; and the fast of jan. , ii. , n. ; and johnson's _journey_, ii. , n. ; ministers his tools, iii. , n. ; his own minister, i. , n. ; mother and lord bute, iv. , n. ; and the sea, i. , n. ; george iv in his youth, ii. , n. ; _leonidas_ glover, v. , n. ; goldsmith's envy, i. , n. ; an 'inspired idiot,' i. , n. ; 'silly,' i. , n. ; and malagrida, iv. , n. ; _she stoops to conquer_, ii. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. , n. ; v. , n. ; gower, lord, i. , n. ; granger's patron, iii. ; gray, sir james, ii. , n. ; grenville, george, ii. , n. ; gunning, the misses, v. , n. ; hagley park, v. , n. , , n. ; hamilton, w. g., i. ; _heroic epistle_ ascribed to him, iv. ; highland regiment in jersey, v. , n. ; highwaymen, iii. , n. ; hill, sir john, ii. , n. ; _history of the house of yvery_, iv. , n. ; hollis, thomas, iv. , n. ; hooke, nathaniel, v. , n. ; 'horry' walpole, iv. ; hôtel du chatelet, ii. , n. ; houghton collection, sale of the, iv. , n. ; house of commons' contest with the city in , ii. , n. ; hume, david, atheist and bigot, iv. , n. ; conversation, ii. , n. ; french, i. , n. ; hurd, bishop, iv. , n. ; irish peers, creation of, iii. , n. ; italy, tour to, iii. , n. ; _jealous wife, the_, i. , n. ; jenkinson, charles (first earl of liverpool), iii. , n. ; johnson and barnard's verses, iv. ; 'billingsgate on milton,' iv. , n. ; bombast, i. , n. ; character, ignorant of, iv. ; _debates_, i. ; described by, iv. ; history reduced to four lines, i. , n. ; at lady lucan's, iii. , n. ; monument, iv. , n. ; 'not a true admirer' of, iv. ; attacks on him, ib., nn. and ; at the royal academy, iv. , n. ; on sacrilege, v. , n. ; writing for money, iii. , n. ; johnson the horse-rider, i. ; _junius_, authorship of, iii. , n. ; keppel's court-martial, iv. , n. ; kinnoul, lord, ii. , n. ; libels in , i. , n. ; lort, rev. dr., iv. , n. ; lovat's execution, i. , n. ; _love and madness_, iv. , n. ; lucan's, lady, bluestocking meeting, iii. , n. ; lyttelton, first lord, i. , n. ; lyttelton, second lord, iv. , n. ; maccaroni club, v. , n, ; macclesfield, earl of, i. , n. ; macdonald, sir j., i. , n. ; mackintosh's criticism of his style, iii. , n. ; macpherson and the newspapers, ii. , n. ; mac swinny (old swinney), iii. , n. ; mansfield's, lord, attacks on the press, i. , n. ; severity, iii. , n. ; mason's _memoirs of gray_, i. , n. ; mead, dr., iii. , n. ; methodists expelled from oxford, ii. , n. ; militia in , iii. , n, , , n. ; millar, andrew, i. , n. ; miller, lady, ii. , n. ; miller, philip, v. , n. ; _miss_, a, v. , n. ; montagu, mrs., at the academy, ii. , n. ; at lady lucan's, iii. , n. ; morell, dr., v. , n. ; _motion, the_, a caricature, v. , n. ; 'mystery, the wisdom of blockheads,' iii. , n. ; nichols's _life of bowyer_, iv. ; north, lord, and mr. macdonald, v. , n. ; northumberland, duchess of, ii. , n. ; northumberland, earl of, ii. , n. ; norton, sir fletcher, ii. , n. ; oglethorpe, general, i. , n. ; orford, earl of, becomes, iii. , n. ; otaheitans, the, v. , n. ; pantheon in oxford street, ii. , n. ; pantomimes, i. , n. ; paoli, ii. , n. , , n. ; v. , n. ; paris, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; patagonia, giants of, v. , n. ; peerages, new, iv. , n. ; pelham's death, i. , n. ; pembroke, tenth earl of, ii. , n. ; petitions to the king against the house of commons, ii. , n. ; philipps, sir john and lady, v. , n. ; press prosecutions, ii. , n. ; prize-fighting, v. , n. ; public affairs in , iii. , n. ; richardson's novels, ii. , n. ; royal academy dinner, iii. , n. ; royal marriage bill, ii. , n. ; savage, richard, i. , n. ; scotch and the gordon riots, ii. , n. ; and the house of commons, ii. , n. ; officers of militia, iii. , n. ; recruiting in london, iii. , n. ; scotland engendering traitors, iii. , n. ; seeker, archbishop, iv. , n. ; shebbeare, dr., broken jacobite physician, iv. , n. ; pension, ii. , n. ; trial for libelling dead kings, iii. , n, ; sinecure office, iii. , n. ; slavery, iii. , n. , , n. ; smollett's abuse of lord lyttelton, iii. , n. ; _humphry clinker_, i. , n. ; southwark election of , ii. , n. ; speeches in parliament, effect of, iii. , n. ; strawberry, v. , n. ; tea, universal use of, i. , n. ; thurot's descent on ireland, iv. , n. ; title, succeeds to the, iv. , n. ; townshend, charles, ii. , n. ; _transpire_, iii. , n. ; trecothick, alderman, iii. , n. ; _tristram shandy_, ii. , n. ; tyrawley, lord, ii. , n. ; usher of the exchequer, iii. , n. ; vails, ii. , n. ; vesey's, mrs., _babels_, iii. , n. ; voltaire, letter from, ii. , n. ; walpole's, sir r., great plan of honesty, i. , n. ; low opinion of history, ii. , n. ; warburton and helvetius, iv. , n. ; westmoreland, earl of, at oxford, i. , n. ; whigs and tories, iv. , n. ; whitaker's _manchester_, iii , n. ; whitehead, paul, i. , n. ; whitehead, william, i. , n. ; willes, chief justice, iv. , n. ; _world, the_, contributor to, i. , n. ; yonge, sir william, i. , n. ; young, dr., v. , n. ; young, professor, parody of johnson, iv. , n. ; _zobeide_, iii. , n. . walpole, sir robert, banished to the house of lords, i. ; bath, lord, sarcastic speech to, v. , n. ; clarke's refusal of a bishopric, iii. , n. ; debates, reports of, unfair, i. ; iv. ; elwall's challenge, ii. , n. ; ferment against him, i. , ; ii. , n. ; fixed star, a, i. ; v. ; 'happier hour, his,' iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; _hosier's ghost_, v. , n. ; indecent pamphlet against him, iii. ; johnson attacks him in _london_, i. ; in _marmor norfolciense_, i. ; inveighs against him, i. ; learned, neglected the, v. , n. ; levee, his bow at a, iii. ; ministry stable and grateful, ii. ; patriots, iv. , n. ; peace-minister, i. ; v. , n. ; pitt, distinguished from, ii. ; pope's pride in him, iii. , n. ; prime-minister, a real, ii. ; iv. ; 'read, i cannot,' ii. , n. ; read sydenham, v. , n. ; talked bawdy at his table, iii. ; tories and jacobites, confounded, i. , n. ; 'walelop' and 'right hon. m. tullius cicero,' i. ; whiggism under him, ii. ; yonge, sir w., character of, i. , n. ; mentioned, v. , n. . walsall, i. , n. . walsh, william, 'knowing,' i. , n. ; _retirement_, ii. , n. . walsingham, admiral, iii. , n. . walton, isaac, _complete angler_, iv. ; donne's vision, ii. ; _lives_, his, one of johnson's favourite books, ii. ; projected edition, ii. , - , ; iii. ; low situation in life, ii. ; a great panegyrist, ib.; quotes topsell, i. , n. . wants, fewness of, ii. , n. , . war, encourages falsehoods, iii. , n. ; kames's opinion ridiculed, i. , n. ; lawfulness, ii. ; miseries of it, ii. ; one side or other must prevail, iv. ; talk of it, iii. . warburton, william, bishop of gloucester, abuse, extended his, v. ; allen's niece, married, ii. , n. ; v. ; birch, dr., letter to, i. ; 'blazes,' v. ; boswell imitates his manner, iii. , n. ; churchill attacks him, iv. , n. ; v. , n. ; _divine legation_, i. , n. ; iv. ; quotations from it, v. ; _doctrine of grace_, v. ; 'flounders well,' v. , n. ; general knowledge, ii. ; helvetius, would have _worked_, iv. , n. ; infidelity, prevalence of, ii. , n. ; johnson's account of him, v. ; and chesterfield, i. ; gratitude to him, i. ; and he cannot bear each other's style, iv. ; _macbeth_, praises, i. ; meets him, iv. , n. , ; praises him, i. , n. ; iv. - ; treats him with great respect, iv. ; _lie_, use of the word, iv. ; lincoln's inn preacher, ii. , n. ; lowth, controversy with, ii. ; v. , ; mallet attacks him, i. ; _life of bacon_, iii. ; projected _life of marlborough_, iii. ; metaphysics, ignorance of, v. , n. ; parr's _tracts by warburton, &c._, iv. , n. ; pope's _essay on man_, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; v. ; made him a bishop, ii. , n. ; v. ; want of genius, v. , n. reading, great and wide, ii. ; iv. - ; v. , n. , ; _shakespeare_, edition of, i. , , ; iv. ; v. , n. ; lines applicable to it, iv. ; strahan, intimate with, v. ; ii. , n. ; theobald, compared with, i. ; helped, v. ; _to the most impudent man alive_, i. ; 'vast sea of words,' i. , n. , ; _view of bolingbroke's philosophy_, i. , n. ; writes and speaks at random, v. ; wycherly's definition of wit, iii. , n. . warburton, mrs., ii. , n. , , n. . ward, the quack doctor, iii. . wardlaw, sir henry, ii. , n. . warley camp, iii. - , ; visited by the king, ib., n. ; by paoli, iii. . warner, rebecca, _original letters_, iv. , n. . warner, rev. r., _tour through the northern counties_, iv. , n. . warrants, general, ii. . warren, sir charles, iv. , n. . warren, dr., attends johnson, iv. , ; member of the literary club, i. ; mentioned, iii. . warren, john, of pembrokeshire, i. . warren, mr., the birmingham bookseller, i. - . warrington, iii. ; v. . warton, rev. dr. joseph, headmaster of winchester college, _adventurer_, wrote for the, i. , n. , ; bolingbroke's share in pope's _essay on man_, iii. , n. ; burke and chambers, recommends, to w. g. hamilton, i. ; clarke's, dr., agility, i. , n. ; donatus on a passage in terence, ii. , n. ; enthusiast by rule, iv. , n. ; _essay on pope_, johnson reviews it, i. ; iii. ; second volume delayed, i. ; ii. ; garrick's offence at johnson, ii. , n. ; goldsmith's conversation, i. , n. ; hamilton, w. g., letter from, i. ; hooke's payment from the duchess of marlborough, v. , nn. and ; inoculates his children, iv. , n. ; johnson and dr. burney's son, in. ; estrangement with, i. , n. i; ii. , n. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; _lear_, note on, ii. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; manner, lively, ii. ; taken off by johnson, ib., n. ; iv. , n. ; pope's cousin, meets, iii. , n. ; rapturist, ii. , n. ; round-robin, signs the, iii. ; a scholar, yet a fool, iii. , n. ; thompson, praises, iii. ; _world, the_, origin of the name, i. , n. ; mentioned, i. , , n. , , n. ; ii. , n. ; iii. . warton, mrs. joseph, i. , n. . warton, rev. thomas, account of him, i. , n. ; appearance, ii. , n. ; described by miss burney, iv. , n. ; boswell and johnson call on him, ii. ; chatterton's forgery, exposes, iii. , n, ; iv. , n. ; contributions to the _life of johnson_, i. ; _eagle and robin redbreast_, i. , n. ; _heroick epistle_, the authorship of the, iv. ; huggins, quarrels with, iv. ; _idler_, contributed to the, i. ; johnson, estrangement with, i. , n. ; letters to him: see under johnson, letters; oxford visit in , i. ; parodies his poetry, iii. , n. ; preface to his _dictionary_, i. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; _observations on spenser's fairy queen_, i. , n. , , ; iv. ; _ode on the first of april_, iii. , n. ; poet-laureate, i. , n. ; professor of poetry, i. , n. ; _progress of discontent_, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; pupils and lectures, i. , n. ; savage's _bastard_, i. ; _shakespeare_, notes on, i. - ; ii. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , n. , . warton, rev. thomas (the father of the two wartons), i. , n. . washington, george, ii. . wasse, christopher, v. . waste, iii. , . water, johnson's advice to drink it, iii. . waters, ambrose, iv. , n. . waters, mr., paris banker, ii. . watford, ii. , n. , , n. . watson, richard, bishop of llandaff, bishops' revenues, iv. , n. ; _chemical essays_, iv. , , n. ; how to rise in the world, ii. , n. . watson, professor robert., of st. andrews, _history of philip ii_, iii. ; johnson, entertains, v. - , , ; manners, wonders at, v. ; talks on composition, v. . watson, mr., 'out in the ' ,' v. , n. . watts, dr. isaac, abney, sir thomas, lived with, i. , n. ; descends from the dignity of science, ii. , n. ; johnson adds him to the _lives_, iii. , ; iv. , n. ; recommends his _works_, iv. ; poetry, his, better in its design than in itself, iii. ; taught dissenters elegance of style, i. . wealth. see money. _wealth of nations_. see/ smith, adam. weather and seasons, their influence acknowledged, i. , n. ; ii. ; iv. , n. , , ; ridiculed by johnson in _the idler_, i. ; ii. , n. ; at the mitre, i. ; 'all imagination,' i. ; weather does not affect the frame, ii. ; iii. ; ridiculed by reynolds, i. , n. ; gray's 'fantastic foppery,' i. , n. ; talking of the weather, i. , n. ; iv. , n. . webster, rev. dr. alexander, account of him, ii. , n. ; v. ; his manuscript account of scotch parishes, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. - , ; v. , n. , , , . wedderburne, alexander. see loughborough, lord. wedderburne, mr., of ballandean, iii. , n, . welch, father, ii. . welch, miss, iii. . welch, saunders, account of him, iii. ; death, iii. , n. ; examination of a boy, iv. ; johnson, letter from, iii. ; london poor, state of the, iii. . well-bred man, distinguished from an ill-bred, iv. . welsh. see under wales. welwyn, iv. ; v. . wendover, ii. , n. . wentworth, mr., master of stourbridge school, i. . wentworth house, 'public dinners,' iv. , n. . wesley, rev. charles, ill-used by oglethorpe, i. , n. ; 'more stationary man than his brother,' iii. . wesley, rev. john, behmen's _mysterium magnum_, ii. , n. ; bleeding, opposed to, iii. , n. ; boswell introduced to him by johnson, iii. ; _calm address to our american colonies_, v. , n. ; cheyne's rules of diet, iii. , n. ; conversation, iii. , ; dodd, dr., visits, iii. , n. ; edinburgh, filthy state of, v. , n. ; farmers dull and discontented, iii. , n. ; french prisoners, i. , n. ; ghost, believed in a newcastle, iii. , ; hall, rev. mr., his brother-in-law, iv. , n. ; highwayman, never met a, iii. , n. ; johnson complains that he is never at leisure, iii. ; letters to him, iii. ; v. , n. ; spends two hours with, iii. , n. ; journeys on foot, i. , n. ; law's _serious call_, i. , n. ; leisure, never at, iii. ; luxury, attacks the apologists of, iii. , n. ; manners and cheerfulness, iii. , nn. and ; marshalsea prison, i. , n. ; meier, rev. mr., ii. , n. ; methodists and a justice of the peace, i. , n. ; name of, i. , n. ; moravians, quarrels with the, iii. , n. ; _muddy_, uses the term, ii. , n. ; nash, silences, iv. , n. ; newgate prisons in london and bristol, iii. , n. ; 'old woman, an,' iii. ; oxford, devotional meetings at, i. , n. ; paoli's arrival in england, ii. , n. ; plain preaching, i. , n. ; polite audiences, iii. , n. ; politician, a, v. , n. ; prisoners under sentence of death, iii. , n. ; iv. , n, ; almost regrets a reprieve to one, v. , n. ; readings and writings, range of his, iii. , n. ; robertson's _charles v_, ii. , n. ; rod, taught to fear the, i. , n. ; roman catholics, attacks the, v. , n. ; rousseau and voltaire, v. , n. ; rutty, dr., iii. , n. ; st. andrews, students of, v. , n. ; sister, his, mrs. hall, iv. ; slaves, religious education of, ii. , n. ; solitary religion, v. , n. ; tea, against the use of, i. , n. ; travels and sufferings, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; university life in england and scotland, i. , n. ; warburton, answers, v. ; witchcraft, believes in, ii. , n. . wesley, mrs. (mother of charles and john wesley), i. , n. . west, gilbert, in the army, iii. , n. ; translation of pindar, iv. . west, richard, describes christ church, oxford, i. , n. ; lines on his own death, iii. , n. . west, rev. w., edition of _rasselas_, i. , n. . west indian islands in , iii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. : see jamaica and slaves. westcote, lord, johnson and the thrales visit him, v. , n. ; lord lyttelton's vision, iv. ; portrait at streatham, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iv. , n. , , n. . western islands. see under boswell, _journal of a tour to the hebrides, journey to the western islands_, martin, m., and scotland, hebrides. westminster. see under london. westminster, deanery of, resignation of the, iii. , n. . westminster abbey, chambers's epitaph, i. , n. ; cibber's, mrs., grave, v. , n, ; goldsmith's epitaph, iii. ; and johnson at the poets' corner, ii. ; handel musical meeting, iv. ; johnson's grave, iv. , ; jonson's, ben, grave, v. , n. ; macpherson's grave, ii. , n. ; milton's monument, i. , n. ; reynolds describes its monuments, iv. , n. ; 'walls disgraced with an english inscription,' iii. . westmoreland, seventh earl of, chancellor of the university of oxford, i. , n. ; meets the pretender in london, i. , n. . wetherell, rev. dr., boswell and johnson visit him, ii. ; johnson's letter to him, ii. ; mentioned, ii. ; iv. . wey, river, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. . wharncliffe, lord, iii. , n. . wharton, marquis of, iv. , n. . wharton, rev. henry, ii. , n. . wheat, price of, in , iii. , n. . see corn. wheatley, near oxford, iv. . wheatley, mr. h. b., wraxall's _memoirs_, ii. , n. . _wheatly and bennet on the common prayer_, iv. , n. . wheeler, rev. dr., death, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; experience as a country parson, iii. ; johnson's liking for his talk, iii. , n. ; ; letter to him, iii. ; mentioned, v. , n. . wheeler, mr., of birmingham, v. . whiggism, corrupted since the revolution, ii. ; hounds, its, iv. , ; lyttelton's vulgar whiggism, ii. ; no room for it in heaven, v. . whigs, almsgiving, against, ii. ; _bottomless_, iv. ; defined, i. , , n. ; devil, the first whig the, iii. ; iv. , n. ; every bad man a whig, v. ; fergusson 'a vile whig,' ii. ; governed, not willing to be, ii. ; hall fireplace, moved the, i. ; humane one, a, v. ; 'is any king a whig?' iii. , n. ; nation quiet when they governed, iv. ; parson's gown, in a, v. ; pretence to honesty ridiculous, v. ; scoundrel and whig, ii. ; staffordshire whig, iii. ; tories, enmity with, iv. ; tories when in place, i. ; 'whig dogs,' i. . whiston, john, bookseller, iv. . whiston, william, bentley's verses iv. , n. ; 'wicked will whiston,' ii. , n. . whitaker, rev. john, _history of manchester_, iii. . whitaker, rev. mr., ii. , n. . whitbread, samuel, the brewer, iii. , n. . whitbread, samuel, m.p., the son, bill for parochial schools, iv. , n. . whitbread, miss, iii. , n. . whitby, daniel, _commentary_, v. . whitby, mr., of heywood, i. , n. . white, rev. gilbert, hibernation of swallows, ii. , n. , , n. ; oriel college common-room, ii. , n. . white, rev. dr., _bampton lectures_ of , iv. . white, rev. dr., of pennsylvania, ii. . white, rev. henry, of lichfield, iv. - . white, mr., librarian of the royal society, ii. , n. . white, mr., a factor, v. . white, mr., tried to be a philosopher, iii. , n. . white, mr., v. , n. . white, mrs., johnson's servant, iv. , n. . whitefield, rev. george, boswell, personally known to, ii. , n. ; bristol newgate, forbidden to preach in the, iii. , n. ; johnson knew him at oxford, i. , n. ; iii. ; v. ; law's _serious call_, reads, i. , n. ; lower classes, of use to the, iii. ; mixture of politics and ostentation, v. ; 'old woman, an,' iii. ; oratory for the mob, v. ; oxford, persecuted at, i. , n. ; pembroke college, servitor of, i. , n. , ; v. , n. ; popularity owing to peculiarity, ii. ; iii. ; preaching described by southey and franklin, ii. , n. ; v. , n. ; _sconced_, i. , n. ; _spiritual quixote_, ridiculed in the, i. , n. ; trapp's _sermons_, attacked in, i. , n. . whitefoord, caleb, _cross-readings_, iv. . whitehead, paul, churchill's lines on him, i. ; johnson undervalues him, i. - ; _manners_, i. ; v. . whitehead, william, _birth-day odes_, i. , n. ; _elegy to lord villiers_, iv. ; garrick's 'reader' of new plays, i. , n. ; proposes him to goldsmith as arbitrator, iii. , n. ; grand nonsense, i. ; _memoirs_ by mason, i. ; poet-laureate, i. , n. . whiteway, mrs., i. , n. . whiting, mrs., iv. , n. . 'who rules o'er freemen,' iv. . _whole duty of man_, its authorship, ii. ; johnson made to read it, i. ; recommends it, iv. . _wholesome_ severities, v. . whoremonger, ii. . whyte, s., home's gold medal, ii. , n. ; johnson's walk, i. , n. ; sheridan and the irish parliament, iii. , n. ; sheridan's pension, i. , n. . wickedness, no abilities required for it, v. . wickham, iv. . widows, ii. . wife, 'artemisias,' ii. ; buying lace for one, ii. ; choosing fools for wives, v. ; death of one, iii. ; disputes with them, v. , n. ; learned, none the worse for being, ii. , ; negligent of pleasing, ii. ; overbury's lines, ii. ; praise from one, i. ; religious, should be, ii. ; singing publicly for hire, ii. ; story of an unfaithful wife, v. ; of one who made a secret purse, iv. ; studious or argumentative, iv. ; superiority of talents, ii. . wigan, iii. , n. . wight, mr., a scotch advocate, iii. , n. . wightman, general, v. , n. . wigs, bag-wigs now worn by physicians, iii. ; tye-wigs, ib., n. ; flowing bob-wig, iii. , n. ; powdered, iii. : see under johnson, wigs. wilcox, the bookseller, i. , n. . _wildair, sir harry_, ii. . wilkes, dr., i. . wilkes, friar, ii. . wilkes, john, alderman, elected, iii. ; aylesbury, member for, iii. ; beauclerk's library, iv. ; boswell apologises for his intimacy with him, iii. , n. ; defends him, v. , n. ; relishes his excellence, in. ; brings johnson and him together, iii. ; proposes a third meeting, iv. , n. ; companion in italy, ii. ; dines with him, ii. , n. , , n. ; enlivened by his sallies, i. ; receives a letter from 'lord mayor wilkes,' ii. , n. ; writes to him, iv. , n. ; burke's pun on him, iii. ; v. , n. ; want of taste, iv. ; city and blackfriars bridge, i. , n. ; city chamberlain, iv. , n. ; courts of justice afraid of him, iii. , n. ; _dedication of mortimer,_ i. , n. ; dress, iii. ; iv. , n. ; english tenacious of forms, iv. ; _fall of mortimer_, iii. , n, ; _false alarm_, answer to the, iv. ; garrick's want of a friend, iii. ; wit, like chesterfield's, iii. ; general warrants, i. , n. ; ii. , n. , ; george iii praises his good breeding, iii. , n. ; goat, the, not the kid, iv. , n. ; gordon riots, iii. ; 'grave, sober, decent,' iii. ; _heroic epistle_, attacked in the, v. ; hogarth, caricatured by, v. ; horace, a contested passage in, iii. ; house of commons afraid of him, iv. , n. ; expunges the resolution for his expulsion, ii. : see under middlesex election; how to speak at its bar, iii. ; inverary, visits, iii. ; 'jack ketch,' iii. ; johnson's account of 'jack's' conversation, iii. ; 'animosity' against him, i. ; attacks him, ii. , n. ; iii. ; v. ; attacks, i. , n. ; iii. , n. ; after their reconciliation, in. , n. ; calls on, iv. ; compared with, iii. , ; _dictionary_, letter _h_, i. , , n. ; meets, at mr. dilly's, iii. - , ; v. , n. ; second meeting, iv. - ; invites, to dinner, iv. , n. ; letter to him, iv. , n. ; and mrs. macaulay's footman, iii. ; political definitions, i. , n. ; repartee about a resolution of the house, iv. ; says that he 'should be well ducked,' i. ; sends him the lives, iv. ; talking of liberty, iii. ; tête-à-tête with, iv. ; _junius_, suspected to be, iii. , n. ; _letter to samuel johnson, ll.d._, iv. , n. ; libel, prosecution for, iii. ; library, sells his, iv. , n. ; lord mayor, iii. , n. , - ; kept from being, v. ; _memoirs_ by almon, i. , n. ; middlesex election: see under middlesex election; monks of medmenham abbey, i. , n. ; _north briton_, no. , i. , n. ; ii. , n. ; earl of bute attacked, ii. , n. ; oratory, on, iv. ; 'phoenix of convivial felicity,' iii. ; physiognomy, ii. , n. ; pope's repartee, iv. ; prison, in, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. , ; profanity, his, iv. ; quotation, censures, iv. ; riots in london in , iii. , n. ; scotland, raillery at, iii. , ; iv. ; sentimental anecdote, iv. , n. ; settle, the city poet, iii. ; shelburne, opposed by, iv. , n. ; shelburne and malagrida, iv. , n. ; sheriff, v. , n. ; smollett's letter to him, i. ; 'wilkes and liberty,' ii. , n. ; v. ; 'wilkite, no,' iii. , n. . wilkes, miss, iv. , n. . wilkie, william, d.d., hume's scotch homer, ii. , n. ; iv. , n. . wilkin, simon, editor of sir thomas brown's _works_, iii. , n. . wilkins, bishop, ii. , n. . wilkins, landlord of the three crowns, lichfield, ii. , ; iii. . wilks, the actor, acted juba in _cato_, v. , n. ; addison's loan to steele, iv. ; johnson celebrates his virtues, i. , n, ; manager of drury lane theatre, v. , n. . will, free. see free will. will-making, ii. ; iv. , n. . willes, chief justice, 'attached to the prince of wales,' i. , n. ; bet flint's trial, iv. , n. ; johnson's schoolfellow, i. , n. . william iii, dodwell, henry, will not persecute, v. , n. ; irish, not the lawful sovereign of the, ii. ; johnson's_ dictionary_, in, i. , n. ; resplendent qualities, his, ii. , n. ; revolution society, commemorated by the, iv. , n. ; shebbeare, satirised by, ii. , n. ; iii. , n. ; torture in scotland, legal in his reign, i. , n. ; 'worthless scoundrel,' ii. - ; 'that scoundrel,' v. ; mentioned, iv. ; v. . williams, anna, account of her, i. ; ii. ; iv. , n. i, , n. ; allowance from mrs. montagu, iii. , n. ; iv. , n. ; from lady philipps, v. , n. ; _adventurer_, bathurst's essays in the, i. ; benefit at drury lane, i. n. , , n. ; bet flint, did not love, iv. , n. ; bolt court, room in, ii. , n. ; boswells envy of goldsmith's taking tea with her, i. ; 'a privileged man,' i. ; ii. ; and the jack wilkes dinner, iii. ; 'loves,' ii. ; carving, ii. , n. ; conversation, i. ; death, iv. , n. , ; drunkenness, on, ii. , n. ; eating, mode of, iii. ; electrical experiments, ii. , n. ; garrick refuses her an order, i. ; gordon riots, left london at the, iii. ; 'hates everybody,' iii. ; hetherington's charity, ii. ; illness, ii. ; iii. , ; , , , , , ; iv. , , - ; jealousy, iii. ; johnson's attention to her, iii. ; pleasure in her society, i. , n. ; iii. ; iv. , , , , n. ; takes the sacrament in her room, iv. , n. , ; tea with her, i. ; ii. ; turns captain macheath, iv. ; johnson's court, room in, ii. ; _miscellanies_, i. , , n. ; ii. - ; iii. ; peevishness, iii. , , ; quarrels with the rest of the household, iii. , ; second sight, instance of, ii. ; tea, mode of making, ii. ; will, her, iv. ; mentioned, i. , n. , , , , , , , n. , , ; ii. , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ; iii. , , , , , , , , ; iv. , ; v. . williams, sir charles hanbury, johnson's pamphlet against him, ii. ; speaks contemptuously of him, v. ; lines on pulteney, v. , n. . williams, helen maria, iv. . williams, zachariah, i. , n. , . willis, dr. thomas, _de anima brutorum_, v. , n. . wilmot, chief justice, i. , n. . _wilson against smith and armour_, ii. , n. . wilson, father, ii. . wilson, florence, _de tranquillitate animi_, iii. . wilson, rev. mr., dedicates his _archaeological dictionary_ to johnson, iv. . wilson, thomas, fellow of trinity college, dublin, i. . wilton, boswell visits it, ii. , n. , ; writes to johnson from it, iii. , . wilton, miss, ii. . wiltshire, militia bill of , i. , n. ; mentioned, iv. . winchester, capital convictions in , iv. , n. ; cathedral, iii. ; franklin visits it, ii. , n. ; johnson visits it in , i. , n. ; mentioned, ii. . winchester college, johnson places burney's son there, iii. ; morell visits it, v. , n. ; peregrine pickle's governor, v. , n. . windham, right hon. william, account of him in , iv. , n. ; balloons, love of, iv. , n. ; burke's merriment, iv. ; essex head club, member of the, iv. , ; eumelian club, member of the, iv. , n. ; glasgow university, at, iii. ; horsley's character, iv. ; johnson's advice to him, iv. , n. ; at ashbourn, visits, iv. , , n. ; attends, when dying, iv. , , , n. ; his servant nurses him, iv. , n. ; bequest to him, iv. , n, ; gift, iv. ; college days, i. , n. ; dexterity in retort, iv. ; funeral, iv. ; and heberden, iv. , n. ; latin read with pleasure by few, v. , n. ; letters to him, iv. , ; never read the _odyssey_ through, i. , , n. ; pension, proposed increase of, iv. , n. ; recommends frank to him, iv. , n. ; literary club, member of the, i. ; opposition to good measures, iv. , n. ; portrait, ii. , n. ; rascal, will make a very pretty, iv. ; secretary for ireland, iv. , , n. ; wants and acquisitions, iii. ; wapping, explores, iv. , n. ; warton's, dr., amazement, ii. , n. ; mentioned, ii. ; iv. . window-tax, v. , n. . windsor, beauclerk's house, i. ; johnson and the mayor, iv. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . windus, john, _journey to mequinez_, v. . _windward_, defined, i. . wine, abstinence a great deduction from life, iii. , , ; not a diminution of happiness, iii. ; does not admit of doubting, iii. ; reasons for it, ii. ; iii. ; advice to one who has drunk freely, ii. ; iii. ; benevolence, drunk from, iii. ; bottles drunk at a sitting, iii. , n. ; claret and ignorance, iii. ; claret, port, and brandy distinguished, iii. ; iv. ; conversation and benevolence, effect on, iii. , ; daily consumption of wine, iii. , n. ; different, makes a man, v. ; 'drives away care,' ii. ; drunk, the art of getting, iii. ; drunk for want of intellectual resources, ii. ; freezing, iv. , n. ; _in vino veritas_, ii. ; johnson's abstinence, i. , n. ; advice to drink wine, ib.; not to drink it, iii. ; 'drink water and put in for a hundred,' iii. ; life not shortened by a free use of it, iii. (see under johnson, wine); melancholy increased by it, i. ; patron, drinking to please a, iii. : see under boswell, wine, drinking and spirituous liquors. wings of iron, iv. , n. . winifred's well, v. . winnington, thomas, i. . wirgman, keeper of a toy-shop, iii. . wirtemberg, prince of, ii. . wise, francis, radclivian librarian, account of him, i. , n. ; johnson visits him at elsfield, i. ; mentioned, i. - , , , . wisedome, robert, v. . wishart, george, the reformer, v. , n. . wishart, dr. william, v. . wit, basis of all wit is truth, ii. , n. ; chesterfield on the property in it, iii. , n. ; defined in barrow's _sermon_, iv. , n. ; generally false reasoning, iii. , n. . witches, evidence of their having existed, ii. ; johnson's disbelief in them, ii. , n. ; 'machinery of poetry,' iv. ; shakespeare's, iii. ; v. , , ; wesley's belief in them, ii. , n. ; witchcraft, punished by death, v. ; abolished by act of parliament, ib.; last executions, v. , n. . witnesses, examination of, v. . wits, a celebrated one, iii. ; the female wits, iv. , n. . wittemberg, iii. , n, . woffington, margaret (peg), garrick's tea, iii. ; sister of mrs. cholmondeley, iii. , n. . wolcot, john (peter pindar), v. , n. . wolfe, general,' choice of difficulties,' v. . wolverhampton, elwall the quaker ironmonger, ii. ; epitaph in the church, i. , n. . women, addison's time, in, iv. , n. ; carefulness with money, iv. ; cookery, cannot make a book of, iii. ; employment of them, ii. , n. ; envy of men's vices, iv. ; few opportunities of improving their condition, iv. ; fortune, of, iii. ; genteel, more, than men, iii. ; gluttony, i. , n. ; greek and pudding-making, i. , n. ; indifferent to characters of men, iv. ; knowledge, none the worse for, ii. ; v. ; little things, can take up with, iii. ; marrying a pretty woman, iv. ; men have more liberty allowed them, iii. ; natural claims, ii. ; over-match for men, v. ; papists, surprising that they are not, iv. ; pious, not more, than men, iv. ; portrait-painting improper for them, ii. ; power given them by nature and law, v. , n. ; preaching, i. ; quality, of, iii. ; reading, iii. ; iv. , n. ; soldiers, as, v. ; temptations, have fewer, iii. ; understandings better cultivated, iii. ; virtuous, more, than of old, iii. . women servants, wages, ii. . women of the town, how far admitted to taverns, iv. ; narrate their histories to johnson, i. , n. ; iv. ; one rescued by him, iv. ; wretched life, i. . wonders, catching greedily at them, i. , n. ; propagating them, iii. , n. . wood, anthony à, _assembly man_, v. , n. ; on burton's tutor at christ church, i. ; rawlinson's collections for a continuation of the _athenae_, iv. , n. ; styles blackmore gentleman, ii. , n. . woodcocks, ii. , . woodhouse, the poetical shoemaker, i. , n. , ; ii. . woodstock. see blenheim. woodward, henry, the actor, ii. , n. . woodward, john, iv. , n. . woollen act, ii. , n. . woolston, rev. thomas, v. , n. , woolwich, iii. . worchester, gwynn's bridge over the severn, v. , n. ; johnson visits it, v. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . worcester, battle of, iv. , n. ; v. . _word to the wise_, iii. . words, big words for little matters, i. ; words describing manners soon require notes, ii. . wordsworth, william, _edinburgh review_ and lord byron, iv. , n. ; _excursion_, quoted, v. ; lines to lady fleming, i, , n. ; lonsdale's, first lord, cruelty to him, v. , n. ; poet-laureate, i. , n. ; _solitary reaper_, v. , n. ; 'we live by admiration,' ii. , n. . work. see labour. _work_ him, iv. , n. ; v. . workhouse, parish, iii. . world, complaints of it unjust, iv. ; counterfeiting happiness, ii. , n. ; despised, not to be, i. , n. ; johnson's knowledge of it, i. ; likes the society of a man of the world, iii. , n. ; judgment must be accepted, i. ; knowledge not strained through books, i. ; peevishly represented as very unjust, iii. , n. ; running about it, i. ; running from it, iv. , n. . world, the, a club, iv. , n. . _world, the_, bedlam, visitors to, ii. , n. ; chesterfield's papers on the _dictionary_, i. - ; confounded with _the world_ of , iii. , n. ; contributors, i. , n. ; v. , ; johnson thinks little of it, i. ; name chosen by dodsley, i. , n. . _world, the_, newspaper of , iii. , n. . _world displayed, introduction to the_, i. . worrall, t., i. , n. . worship of images, iii. , . worthington, dr., v. , , . wotton, sir henry, ii. , n. . woty, mr., i. . wraxall, sir nathaniel w., george iii's manners, ii. , n. ; johnson, describes, iii. , n. ; and the duchess of devonshire, iii. , n. ; and mrs. montagu, iv. , n. ; meets, at mrs. vesey's, iii. ; driven away by him, iii. , n. ; malagrida's name, iv. , n. ; _tour to the northern parts of europe_, iii. . wren, sir christopher, v. . wright, thomas, of shrewsbury, v. , n. . writers. see authors. writing, johnson's calculation about amount produced, ii. ; money, for, iii. , ; pleasure in it, iv. ; writing from one's own mind, ii. . _wronghead, sir francis_, ii. . wurtzburg, bishopric of, v. , n. . wycherly, william, definition of wit, iii. , n. . wynne, colonel, v. . wynne, sir thomas and lady, v. , . wynne, mrs., v. . x. xavier, francis, v. , n. . xenophon, delineation of characters in the _anabasis_, iv. ; _memorabilia_, iii. , w. ; v. ; _treatise of oeconomy_, iii. . xerxes, described in juvenal, ii. ; weeping at seeing his army, iii. . xylander, i. , n. . y. yalden, rev. thomas, johnson adds him to the _lives_, iii. ; his _hymn to darkness_, ib., n. . yates, mr. justice, i. , n. . yawning, anecdote of, iii. . yonge, sir william, character, i. , n. ; _epilogue to irene_, i. ; pronunciation of _great_, ii. . _yorick's sermons_, iv. , n. . york, address to the king, iv. ; mentioned, iii. . york, archbishops of, their public dinners, iv. , n. . see markham, archbishop. york, duke of (james ii), v. , n. . york, duke of, goes to hear the cock lane ghost, i. , n. ; johnson dedicates music to him, ii. ; kindness to foote, iii. , n. . york, house of, iii. . yorkshire, militia, i. , n. ; iii. . _you was_, iv. , n. . young, arthur, birmingham manufacturers in , ii. , n. ; roads in the north of england, iii. , n. ; mentioned, iii. , n. . young, dr. edward, blank verse of _night thoughts_, iv. , n. , ; britannia's daughters and bedlam, ii. , n. ; _brunetta and stella_, v. ; _card, the_, ridiculed in, v. , n. ; cheyne, dr., iii. , n. ; compared with shakespeare and dryden, ii. , n. ; _conjectures on original composition_, v. ; critics, defies, ii. , n. ; 'death-bed a detector of the heart,' v. , n. ; epigram on lord stanhope, iv. , n. ; 'for bankrupts write,' &c., iii. , n. ; gloomy, how far, iv. , ; 'good breeding sends the satire,' &c., iv. ; housekeeper, his, v. ; johnson and boswell visit his house, iv. - ; johnson calls him 'a great man,' iv. ; describes meeting him, v. ; _dictionary_, cited in, iv. , n. ; estimate of his poetry, ii. ; iv. ; v. -- ; knotting, on, iii. , n. ; knowledge not great, v. , n. ; langton's account of him, iv. ; _life_ by croft, iv. ; v. , n. ; _love of fame_, v. ; mead, dr., compliments, iii. , n. ; _night thoughts_, ii. ; iv. - ; v. ; 'nor takes her tea,' &c., iii. , n. ; 'o my coevals,' in. ; preferment, pined for, iii. ; iv. ; quotations, iv. , n. ; 'quotidian prey,' v. ; _rambler_, his copy of the, i. ; 'small sands the mountain,' &c., iii. ; sundial, iv. ; _universal passion_, money received for it lost in the _south sea_, iv. ; 'words all in vain pant,' &c., iv. , n. . young, mr. (dr. young's son), boswell and johnson visit him, iv. - ; quarrel with his father, v. . young, professor, of glasgow, imitates johnson's style, iv. . young people, generous sentiments, i. ; johnson loves their acquaintance, i. . youth, companions of our, iv. ; scenes, i. ; ii. , n. ; v. . _yvery, history of the house of_, iv. . z. zeck, george and luke, ii. . zecklers, ii. n. . zeila, i. . zelide, ii. , n. . zenobia, ii. , n. . _zobeide_, iii. . zoffani, j., iv. , n. . zon, mr., i. . zozima, i. . dicta philosophi. a concordance of johnson's sayings. abandon. 'sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would abandon his mind to it,' iv. . abstract. 'why, sir, he fancies so, because he is not accustomed to abstract,' ii. . absurd. 'when people see a man absurd in what they understand, they may conclude the same of him in what they do not understand,' ii. . abuse. 'warburton, by extending his abuse, rendered it ineffectual,' v. ; 'they may be invited on purpose to abuse him,' ii. ; 'you _may_ abuse a tragedy, though you cannot write one,' i. . acceleration. 'you cannot conceive with what acceleration i advance towards death,' iv. . _accommodé_. 'j'ai accommodé un dîner qui faisait trembler toute la france' (recorded by boswell), v. , n. . action. 'action may augment noise, but it never can enforce argument,' ii. . admiration. 'very near to admiration is the wish to admire,' iii. , n. . again. 'see him again' (beauclerk), iv. . alive. 'are we alive after all this satire?' iv. . almanac. 'then, sir, you would reduce all history to no better than an almanac' (boswell), ii. . amazement. 'his taste is amazement,' ii. , n. . ambassador. 'the ambassador says well,' iii. . ambition. 'every man has some time in his life an ambition to be a wag,' iv. , n. . american. 'i am willing to love all mankind, except an american,' iii. . amusements. 'i am a great friend to public amusements,' ii. . ancients. 'the ancients endeavoured to make physic a science and failed; and the moderns to make it a trade and have succeeded' (ballow), iii. , n. . angry. 'a man is loath to be angry at himself,' ii. . antiquarian. 'a mere antiquarian is a rugged being,' iii. . applause. 'the applause of a single human being is of great consequence,' iv. . argues. 'he always gets the better when he argues alone' (goldsmith), ii. . argument. 'sir, i have found you an argument, but i am not obliged to find you an understanding,' iv. ; 'nay, sir, argument is argument,' iv. ; 'all argument is against it; but all belief is for it,' iii. ; 'argument is like an arrow from a cross-bow' (boyle), iv. . asinus. 'plus negabit unus asinus in una hora quam centum philosophi probaverint in centum annis,' ii. , n. . aspired. 'if he aspired to meanness his retrograde ambition was completely gratified,' v. , n. . athenian. 'an athenian blockhead is the worst of all blockheads,' i. . attacked. 'i would rather be attacked than unnoticed,' iii. . attention. 'he died of want of attention,' ii. . attitudenise. 'don't _attitudenise_,' iv. . attorney. 'now it is not necessary to know our thoughts to tell that an attorney will sometimes do nothing,' iii. ; 'he did not care to speak ill of any man behind his back, but he believed the gentleman was an attorney,' ii. . auction-room. 'just fit to stand at the door of an auction-room with a long pole, and cry "pray gentlemen, walk in,"' ii. . audacity. 'stubborn audacity is the last refuge of guilt,' ii. , n. . authors. 'authors are like privateers, always fair game for one another,' iv. , n. ; 'the chief glory of every people arises from its authors,' v. , n. . avarice. 'you despise a man for avarice, but do not hate him,' iii. . b. babies. 'babies do not want to hear about babies,' iv. , n. . baited. 'i will not be baited with _what_ and _why_,' iii. . bandy. 'it was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign,' ii. . bark. 'let him come out as i do and bark,' iv. , n. . barren. 'he was a barren rascal,' ii. . bawdy. 'a fellow who swore and talked bawdy,' ii. . bawdy-house. 'sir, your wife, under pretence of keeping a bawdy-house, is a receiver of stolen goods,' iv. . beast. 'he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man,' ii. , n. . beat. 'why, sir, i believe it is the first time he has _beat_; he may have been _beaten_ before,' ii. . beaten. 'the more time is beaten, the less it is kept' (rousseau), iv. , n. . belief. 'every man who attacks my belief ... makes me uneasy; and i am angry with him who makes me uneasy,' iii. . believe. 'we don't know _which_ half to believe,' iv. . bell. 'it is enough for me to have rung the bell to him' (burke), iv. . bellows. 'so many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonder she is not by this time become a cinder,' ii. . belly. 'i look upon it that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else,' i. . benefit. 'when the public cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, i will go to your benefit too,' ii. . big. 'don't, sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters,' i. . bigot. 'sir, you are a bigot to laxness,' v. . bishop. 'a bishop has nothing to do at a tippling-house,' iv. ; 'i should as soon think of contradicting a bishop,' iv. ; 'queen elizabeth had learning enough to have given dignity to a bishop,' iv. ; 'dull enough to have been written by a bishop' (foote), ib. n. . blade. 'a blade of grass is always a blade of grass,' v. , n. . blaze. 'the blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket,' iii. . bleeds. 'when a butcher tells you that his heart bleeds for his country he has in fact no uneasy feeling,' i. . bloom. 'it would have come out with more bloom if it had not been seen before by anybody,' i. . blunt. 'there is a blunt dignity about him on every occasion' (sir m. le fleming), i. , n. . boards. 'the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon _boards_' (garrick), ii. . bolder. 'bolder words and more timorous meaning, i think, never were brought together,' iv. . _bon-mot_. 'it is not every man that can carry a _bon-mot_' (fitzherbert), ii. . book. 'it was like leading one to talk of a book when the author is concealed behind the door,' i. ; 'you have done a great thing when you have brought a boy to have entertainment from a book,' iii. ; 'read diligently the great book of mankind,' i. ; 'the parents buy the books, and the children never read them,' iv. , n. ; 'the progress which the understanding makes through a book has more pain than pleasure in it,' iv. ; 'it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold,' ii. . bookseller. 'an author generated by the corruption of a bookseller,' iii. . born. 'i know that he was born; no matter where,' v. . botanist. 'should i wish to become a botanist, i must first turn myself into a reptile,' i. , n. . bottom. 'a bottom of good sense,' iv. . bouncing. 'it is the mere bouncing of a school-boy,' ii. . bound. 'not in a _bound_ book,' iii. , n. . bow-wow. 'dr. johnson's sayings would not appear so extraordinary were it not for his bow-wow way' (lord pembroke), ii. , n. . brains. 'i am afraid there is more blood than brains,' iv. . brandy. 'he who aspires to be a hero must drink brandy,' iii. ; 'brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking can do for him,' iii. . brased. 'he advanced with his front already brased,' v. , n. . bravery. 'bravery has no place where it can avail nothing,' iv. . brentford. 'pray, sir, have you ever seen brentford?' iv. . briars. 'i was born in the wilds of christianity, and the briars and thorns still hang about me' (marshall), iii. . bribed. 'you may be bribed by flattery,' v. . brink. 'dryden delighted to tread upon the brink of meaning,' ii. , n. . brothel. 'this lady of yours, sir, i think, is very fit for a brothel,' iii. . brutality. 'abating his brutality he was a very good master,' ii. . buckram'd. 'it may have been written by walpole and _buckram'd_ by mason' (t. warton), iv. . bull. 'if a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim, "here am i with this cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?"' ii. . bull's hide. 'this sum will...get you a strong lasting coat supposing it to be made of good bull's hide,' i. . burden. 'poverty preserves him from sinking under the burden of himself,' v. , n. . burrow. 'the chief advantage of london is that a man is always so near his burrow' (meynell), iii. . bursts. 'he has no bursts of admiration on trivial occasions,' iv. business. 'it is prodigious the quantity of good that may be done by one man, if he will make a business of it' (franklin), iv. n. . buz. 'that is the buz of the theatre,' v. . c. cabbage. 'such a woman might be cut out of a cabbage, if there was a skilful artificer,' v. . calculate. 'nay, madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate,' iii. . candles. 'a man who has candles may sit up too late,' ii. . cannister. 'an author hunted with a cannister at his tail,' iii. . cant. 'clear your mind of cant,' iv. ; 'don't cant in defence of savages,' iv. ; 'vulgar cant against the manners of the great,' iii. . canting. 'a man who has been canting all his life may cant to the last,' iii. . capitulate. 'i will be conquered, i will not capitulate,' iv. . card-playing. 'why, sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing,' iii. ; 'it generates kindness and consolidates society,' v. . carrot. 'you would not value the finest head cut upon a carrot,' ii. . cat. 'she was a speaking cat,' iii. . catch. 'god will not take a catch of him,' iv. . catching. 'that man spent his life in catching at an object which he had not power to grasp,' ii. . categorical. 'i could never persuade her to be categorical,' iii. . caution. 'a strain of cowardly caution,' iii. . cawmell. 'ay, ay, he has learnt this of cawmell,' i. . censure. 'all censure of a man's self is oblique praise,' iii. . chair. 'he fills a chair,' iv. . character. 'ranger is just a rake, a mere rake, and a lively young fellow, but no _character_ ii. ; 'derrick may do very well as long as he can outrun his character, but the moment his character gets up with him, it is all over,' i. ; 'the greater part of mankind have no character at all,' iii. , n. . charity. 'there is as much charity in helping a man down-hill as in helping him up-hill,' v. . cheerfulness. 'cheerfulness was always breaking in' (edwards), iii. . chequered. 'thus life is chequered,' iv. , n. . cherry-stones. 'a genius that could not carve heads upon cherry-stones,' iv. . chief. 'he has no more the soul of a chief than an attorney who has twenty houses in a street, and considers how much he can make by them,' v. . childish. 'one may write things to a child without being childish' (swift), ii. , n. . chimney. 'to endeavour to make her ridiculous is like blacking the chimney,' ii. . chuck-farthing. 'a judge is not to play at marbles or at chuck-farthing in the piazza,' ii. . church. 'he never passes a church without pulling off his hat,' i. ; 'let me see what was once a church,' v. . citizen. 'the citizen's enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef and two puddings,' iii. . civil. 'he was so generally civil that nobody thanked him for it,' iii. civility. 'we have done with civility,' iii. . claims. 'he fills weak heads with imaginary claims,' ii. . clapped. 'he could not conceive a more humiliating situation than to be clapped on the back by tom davies' (beauclerk), ii. . claret. 'a man would be drowned by claret before it made him drunk,' iii. ; iv. ; 'claret is the liquor for boys,' iii. . clean. 'he did not love clean linen; and i have no passion for it,' i. . cleanest. 'he was the cleanest-headed man that he had met with,' v. . clergyman. 'a clergyman's diligence always makes him venerable,' iii. . clippers. 'there are clippers abroad,' iii. . coat. 'a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one,' iii. , n. . cock. 'a fighting cock has a nobleness of resolution,' ii. . cock-fighting. 'cock-fighting will raise the spirits of a company,' iii. . combination. 'there is a combination in it of which macaulay is not capable,' v. . comedy. 'i beg pardon, i thought it was a comedy' (shelburne), iv. , n. ; 'the great end of comedy is to make an audience merry,' ii. . common--places. 'criticism disdains to chase a school-boy to his common-places,' iv. , n. . company. 'a fellow comes into _our_ company who is fit for _no_ company,' v. ; 'the servants seem as unfit to attend a company as to steer a man of war,' iv. . comparative. 'all barrenness is comparative,' iii. . completes. 'he never completes what he has to say,' iii. . concentrated. 'it is being concentrated which produces high convenience,' v. . concentrates. 'depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight it concentrates his mind wonderfully,' iii. . conclusive. 'there is nothing conclusive in his talk,' iii. . cone. 'a country governed by a despot is an inverted cone,' iii. . congress. 'if i had bestowed such an education on a daughter, and had discovered that she thought of marrying such a fellow, i would have sent her to the congress,' ii. . conscience. 'no man's conscience can tell him the right of another man,' ii. . contempt. 'no man loves to be treated with contempt,' iii. . contemptible. 'there is no being so poor and so contemptible who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible,' ii. . contradicted. 'what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' iv. . conversation. 'in conversation you never get a system,' ii. ; 'we had talk enough, but no conversation,' iv. . count. 'he had to count ten, and he has counted it right,' ii. ; 'when the judgment is so disturbed that a man cannot count, that is pretty well,' iv. . counting. 'a man is often as narrow as he is prodigal for want of counting,' iv. , n. . country. 'they who are content to live in the country are fit for the country,' iv. . cow. 'a cow is a very good animal in the field but we turn her out of a garden,' ii. ; 'my dear sir, i would confine myself to the cow' (blair), v. , n. ; 'nay, sir, if you cannot talk better as a man, i'd have you bellow like a cow,' v. . cowardice. 'mutual cowardice keeps us in peace,' iii. ; 'such is the cowardice of a commercial place,' iii. . coxcomb. 'he is a coxcomb, but a satisfactory coxcomb'(hamilton), iii. , n. i; 'once a coxcomb and always a coxcomb,' ii. . crazy. 'sir, there is no trusting to that crazy piety,' ii. . _crédulité_. 'la crédulité des incrédules' (lord hailes), v. . criticism. 'blown about by every wind of criticism,' iv. . cross-legged. 'a tailor sits crosslegged, but that is not luxury,' ii. cruet. 'a mind as narrow as the neck of a vinegar cruet,' v. . _cui bono_. 'i hate a _cui bono_ man' (dr. shaw), iv. . cure. 'stay till i am well, and then you shall tell me how to cure myself,' ii. . curiosity. 'there are two objects of curiosity-the christian world and the mahometan world,' iv. . d. dancing-master. 'they teach the morals of a whore and the manners of a dancing-master,' i. . daring. 'these fellows want to say a daring thing, and don't know how to go about it,' iii. . darkness. 'i was unwilling that he should leave the world in total darkness, and sent him a set' [of the _ramblers_], iv. . dash. 'why don't you dash away like burney?' ii. . death. 'if one was to think constantly of death, the business of life would stand still,' v. ; 'the whole of life is but keeping away the thoughts of death,' ii. ; 'we are getting out of a state of death,' ii. ; 'who can run the race with death?' iv. . debate. 'when i was a boy i used always to choose the wrong side of a debate,' i. . debauch. 'i would not debauch her mind,' iv. , n. . debauched. 'every human being whose mind is not debauched will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge,' i. . declaim. 'nay, madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate,' iii. . declamation. 'declamation roars and passion sleeps' (garrick), i. , n. . defensive. 'mine was defensive pride,' i. . description. 'description only excites curiosity; seeing satisfies it,' iv. . _desidiae_. '_desidiae valedixi_,' i. . desperate. 'the desperate remedy of desperate distress,' i. , n. . devil. 'let him go to some place where he is not known; don't let him go to the devil where he is known,' v. . die. 'i am not to lie down and die between them,' v. ; 'it is a sad thing for a man to lie down and die,' iii. ; 'to die with lingering anguish is generally man's folly,' iv. , n. . dies. 'it matters not how a man dies, but how he lives,' ii. . _dieu_. '_si dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait l'inventer_' (voltaire), v. , n. . differing. 'differing from a man in doctrine was no reason why you should pull his house about his ears,' v. . dignity. 'he that encroaches on another's dignity puts himself in his power,' iv. ; 'the dignity of danger,' iii. . dinner. 'a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner,' i. , n. ; 'amidst all these sorrowful scenes i have no objection to dinner,' v. ; 'dinner here is a thing to be first planned and then executed,' v. ; 'this was a good enough dinner, to be sure; but it was not a dinner to _ask_ a man to,' i. . dip. 'he had not far to dip,' iii. . dirt. 'by those who look close to the ground dirt will be seen,' ii. , n. . disappointed. 'he had never been disappointed by anybody but himself,' i. , n. . discourage. don't let us discourage one another,' iii. . dislike. 'nothing is more common than mutual dislike where mutual approbation is particularly expected,' iii. . dispute. 'i will dispute very calmly upon the probability of another man's son being hanged,' iii. . dissenter. 'sir, my neighbour is a dissenter' (sir r. chambers), ii. , n. . distance. 'sir, it is surprising how people will go to a distance for what they may have at home,' v. . distant. 'all distant power is bad,' iv. . distinctions. 'all distinctions are trifles,' iii. . distress. 'people in distress never think that you feel enough,' ii. . docker. 'i hate a docker,' i. , n. . doctor. 'there goes the doctor,' ii. . doctrine. 'his doctrine is the best limited,' iii. . dog. 'ah, ah! sam johnson! i see thee!--and an ugly dog thou art,' ii. , n. ; 'does the dog talk of me?' ii. ; '_he_, the little black dog,' i. ; 'he's a whig, sir; a sad dog,' iii. ; 'what he did for me he would have done for a dog,' iii. ; 'i have hurt the dog too much already,' i. , n. ; 'i hope they did not put the dog in the pillory,' iii. ; 'i love the young dogs of this age,' i. ; 'i took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it,' i. ; 'i would have knocked the factious dogs on the head,' iv. ; 'if you were not an idle dog, you might write it,' iii. ; 'it is the old dog in a new doublet,' iii. ; 'presto, you are, if possible, a more lazy dog than i am,' iv. , n. ; 'some dogs dance better than others,' ii. ; 'the dogs don't know how to write trifles with dignity,' iv. , n. ; 'the dogs are not so good scholars,' i. ; 'the dog is a scotchman,' iv. ; 'the dog is a whig,' v. ; 'the dog was so very comical,' iii. ; 'what, is it you, you dogs?' i. . dogged. 'dogged veracity,' iii. . doggedly. 'a man may write at any time if he will set himself doggedly to it,' i. ; v. , . dogmatise. 'i dogmatise and am contradicted,' ii. , n. . done. 'what a man has done compared with what he might have done,' ii. ; 'what _must_ be done, sir, _will_ be done,' i. . double. 'it is not every name that can carry double,' v. ; 'let us live double,' iv. . doubts. 'his doubts are better than most people's certainties' (lord chancellor hardwicke), iii. . draw. 'madam, i have but ninepence in ready money, but i can draw for a thousand pounds' (addison), ii. . drift. 'what is your drift, sir?' iv. . drive. 'i do not now drive the world about; the world drives or draws me,' iv. , n. ; 'if your company does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will,' iii. ; 'ten thousand londoners would drive all the people of pekin,' v. . driving. 'you are driving rapidly _from_ something, or _to_ something,' iii. . dropped. 'there are people whom one should like very well to drop, but would not wish to be dropped by,' iv. . droves. 'droves of them would come up, and attest anything for the honour of scotland,' ii. . drowned. 'being in a ship is being in a jail with the chance of being drowned,' v. . drunk. 'never but when he is drunk,' ii. ; 'equably drunk,' iii. ; 'people who died of dropsies, which they contracted in trying to get drunk,' v. ; 'a man who exposes himself when he is intoxicated has not the art of getting drunk,' iii. . ducking-stool. 'a ducking-stool for women,' iii. . dull. 'he is not only dull himself, but the cause of dulness in others' (foote), iv. ; 'he was dull in a new way,' ii. . dunce. 'it was worth while being a dunce then,' ii. ; 'why that is because, dearest, you're a dunce,' iv. . e. earnest. 'at seventy-seven it is time to be in earnest,' v. , n. . easier. 'it is easier to write that book than to read it' (goldsmith), ii. ; 'it is much easier to say what it is not,' iii. . east. 'the man who has vigour may walk to the east just as well as to the west, if he happens to turn his head that way,' v. . economy. 'the blundering economy of a narrow understanding,' iii. . _emptoris sit eligere_, i. . empty-headed. 'she does not gain upon me, sir; i think her emptyheaded,' iii. . end. 'i am sure i am right, and there's an end on't' (boswell in imitation of johnson), iii. ; 'we know our will is free, and there's an end on't,' ii. ; 'what the boys get at one end they lose at the other,' ii. . endless. 'endless labour to be wrong,' iii. , n. . england. 'it is not so much to be lamented that old england is lost, as that the scotch have found it,' iii. . englishman. 'an englishman is content to say nothing when he has nothing to say,' iv. ; 'we value an englishman highly in this country, and yet englishmen are not rare in it,' iii. . enthusiast. 'sir, he is an enthusiast by rule,' iv. . epigram. 'why, sir, he may not be a judge of an epigram; but you see he is a judge of what is _not_ an epigram,' iii. . _esprit_. 'il n'a de l'esprit que contre dieu,' iii. . _Étudiez_. 'ah, monsieur, vous étudiez trop,' iv. . everything. 'a man may be so much of everything that he is nothing of anything,' iv. . excellence. 'compared with excellence, nothing,' iii. ; 'is getting £ , a proof of excellence?' iii. . excess. 'such an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in nature,' i. . exercise. 'he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house, but he was carried back again,' i. ; 'i take the true definition of exercise to be labour without weariness,' iv. , n. . existence. 'every man is to take existence on the terms on which it is given to him,' iii. . f. fact. 'housebreaking is a strong fact,' ii. . faction. 'dipped his pen in faction,' i. , n. . faggot. 'he takes its faggot of principles,' v. . fallible. 'a fallible being will fail somewhere,' ii. . fame. 'fame is a shuttlecock,' v. ; 'he had no fame but from boys who drank with him,' v. . farthing candle. 'sir, it is burning a farthing candle at dover to show light at calais,' i. . fat. 'who drives fat oxen should himself be fat,' iv. . feeling. 'they pay you by feeling,' ii. . feet. 'we grow to five feet pretty readily, but it is not so easy to grow to seven,' iii. . fellow. 'i look upon myself as a good-humoured fellow,' ii. ; 'when we see a very foolish _fellow_ we don't know what to think of _him_,' ii. . fellows. 'they are always telling lies of us old fellows,' iii. . fifth. 'i heartily wish, sir, that i were a fifth,' iv. . _filosofo. 'tu sei santo, ma tu non sei filosofo_' (giannone), iv. . fine. 'read over your compositions, and wherever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out' (a college tutor), ii. ; 'were i to have anything fine, it should be very fine,' iv. ; v. . fingers. 'i e'en tasted tom's fingers,' ii. . fire. 'a man cannot make fire but in proportion as he has fuel,' &c., v. ; 'if it were not for depriving the ladies of the fire i should like to stand upon the hearth myself,' iv. , n. ; 'would cry, fire! fire! in noah's flood' (butler), v. , n. . fishes. 'if a man comes to look for fishes you cannot blame him if he does not attend to fowls,' v. . flatterers. 'the fellow died merely from want of change among his flatterers,' v. , n. . flattery. 'dearest lady, consider with yourself what your flattery is worth, before you bestow it so freely,' iv. . flea. 'a flea has taken you such a time that a lion must have served you a twelvemonth,' ii. ; 'there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea,' iv. . fling. 'if i fling half a crown to a beggar with intention to break his head,' &c., i. . flounders. 'he flounders well,' v. , n. ; 'till he is at the bottom he flounders,' v. . fly. 'a fly, sir, may sting a stately horse and make him wince, but one is but an insect, and the other is a horse still,' i. , n. . folly. 'there are in these verses too much folly for madness, and too much madness for folly,' iii. , n. . fool. 'i should never hear music, if it made me such a fool,' iii. ; 'there's danger in a fool' (churchill), v. , n. . foolish. 'i would almost be content to be as foolish,' iii. , n, ; 'it is a foolish thing well done,' ii. . fools. 'i never desire to meet fools anywhere,' iii. , n. . footman. 'a well-behaved fellow citizen, your footman,' i. . foreigners. 'for anything i see foreigners are fools' ('old' meynell), iv. . fortune. 'it is gone into the city to look for a fortune,' ii. . forward. 'he carries you round and round without carrying you forward to the point; but then you have no wish to be carried forward,' iv. . four-pence. 'garrick was bred in a family whose study was to make four-pence do as much as others made fourpence halfpenny do,' iii. . france. 'will reduce us to babble a dialect of france,' iii. , n. . french. 'i think my french is as good as his english,' ii. . frenchman. 'a frenchman must be always talking, whether he knows anything of the matter or not,' iv. . friend. 'a friend with whom they might compare minds, and cherish private virtues,' iii. . friendship. 'a man, sir, should keep his friendship in constant repair,' i. . friendships. 'most friendships are formed by caprice or by chance, mere confederacies in vice or leagues in folly,' iv. . frisk. 'i'll have a frisk with you,' i. . froth. 'longing to taste the froth from every stroke of the oar,' v. , n. . frown. 'on which side soever i turn, mortality presents its formidable frown,' iv. . frugal. 'he was frugal by inclination, but liberal by principle,' iv. , n. . full meal. 'every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal,' ii. . fundamentally. 'i say the woman was fundamentally sensible,' iv. . futile. 'tis a futile fellow' (garrick), ii. . g. gabble. 'nay, if you are to bring in gabble i'll talk no more,' iii. . gaiety. 'gaiety is a duty when health requires it,' iii. , n. . gaol. see sailor. gaoler. 'no man, now, has the same authority which his father had, except a gaoler,' iii. . garrets. 'garrets filled with scribblers accustomed to lie,' iii. , n. . general. 'a man is to guard himself against taking a thing in general,' iii. . generous. 'i do not call a tree generous that sheds its fruit at every breeze,' v. . genius. 'a man of genius has been seldom ruined but by himself,' i. . genteel. 'no man can say "i'll be genteel,"' iii. . _gentilhomme. 'un gentilhomme est toujours gentilhomme_' (boswell), i. . gentle. 'when you have said a man of gentle manners you have said enough,' iv. . gentleman. 'don't you consider, sir, that these are not the manners of a gentleman?' iii. . george. 'tell the rest of that to george' (r. o. cambridge), iv. , n. . ghost. 'if i did, i should frighten the ghost,' v. . glare. 'gave a distinguished glare to tyrannic rage' (tom davies), ii. , n. . glassy. 'glassy water, glassy water,' ii. , n. . gloomy. 'gloomy calm of idle vacancy,' i. . god. 'i am glad that he thanks god for anything,' i. . goes on. 'he goes on without knowing how he is to get off,' ii. . good. 'sir, my being so _good_ is no reason why you should be so _ill_,' iii. ; 'everybody loves to have good things furnished to them, without any trouble,' iv. ; 'i am ready now to call a man a good man upon easier terms than i was formerly,' iv. ; 'a look that expressed that a good thing was coming,' iii. . graces. 'every man of any education would rather be called a rascal than accused of deficiency in the graces,' iii. . grand. 'grand nonsense is insupportable,' i. . gratified. 'not highly _gratified_, yet i do not recollect to have passed many evenings with _fewer objections_,' ii, . grave. 'we shall receive no letters in the grave,' iv. . grazed. 'he is the richest author that ever grazed the common of literature,' i. , n. . great. 'a man would never undertake great things could he be amused with small,' iii. ; 'i am the great twalmley,' iv. . greyhound. 'he sprang up to look at his watch like a greyhound bounding at a hare,' ii. . grief. 'all unnecessary grief is unwise,' iii. ; 'grief has its time,' iv. ; 'grief is a species of idleness,' iii. , n. . guinea. 'he values a new guinea more than an old friend,' v. ; 'there go two and forty sixpences to one guinea,' ii. , n. . guineas. 'he cannot coin guineas but in proportion as he has gold,' v. . h. hands. 'a man cutting off his hands for fear he should steal,' ii. ; 'i would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest principles,' iv. . hanged. 'a friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled,' ii. ; 'do you think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the succession of a royal family?' iii. ; 'he is not the less unwilling to be hanged,' iii. ; 'if he were once fairly hanged i should not suffer,' ii. ; 'no man is thought the worse of here whose brother was hanged,' ii. ; 'so does an account of the criminals hanged yesterday entertain us,' iii. ; 'i will dispute very calmly upon the probability of another man's son being hanged,' iii. ; 'you may as well ask if i hanged myself to-day,' iv. ; 'depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight it concentrates his mind wonderfully,' iii. . happiness. 'these are only struggles for happiness,' iii. . happy. 'it is the business of a wise man to be happy,' iii. . harassed. 'we have been harassed by invitations,' v. . hare. 'my compliments, and i'll dine with him, hare or rabbit,' iii. . hate. 'men hate more steadily than they love,' iii. . hater. 'he was a very good hater,' i. , n. . head. 'a man must have his head on something, small or great,' ii. , n. . headache. 'at your age i had no headache,' i. ; 'nay, sir, it was not the wine that made your head ache, but the sense that i put into it,' iii. . heap. 'the mighty heap of human calamity,' iii. , n. . hell. 'hell is paved with good intentions,' ii. . hermit. 'hermit hoar in solemn cell,' iii. . hide. 'exert your whole care to hide any fit of anxiety,' iii. . high. 'here is a man six feet high and you are angry because he is not seven,' v. . highlands. 'who can like the highlands?' v. . hiss. ah! sir, a boy's being flogged is not so severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him,' i. . histories. 'this is my history; like all other histories, a narrative of misery,' iv. . hog. 'yes, sir, for a hog,' iv. . hogstye. 'he would tumble in a hogstye as long as you looked at him, and called to him to come out,' i. . hole. 'a man may hide his head in a hole ... and then complain he is neglected,' iv. . honestly. 'i who have eaten his bread will not give him to him; but i should be glad he came honestly by him,' v. . _honores. 'honores mutant mores_' iv. . honour. 'if you do not see the honour, i am sure i feel the disgrace' (fathered on johnson), iv. . hooks. 'he has not indeed many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly,' ii. . hope. 'he fed you with a continual renovation of hope to end in a constant succession of disappointment,' ii. . hottentot. 'sir, you know no more of our church than a hottentot,' v. . housewifery. 'the fury of housewifery will soon subside,' iv. , n. . hugged. 'had i known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he does, i should have hugged him,' i. . humanity. 'we as yet do not enough understand the common rights of humanity,' iv. , . hung. 'sir, he lived in london, and hung loose upon society,' i. . hunted. 'am i to be hunted in this manner?' iv. . hurt. 'you are to a certain degree hurt by knowing that even one man does not believe,' iii. . hypocrisy. 'i hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery,' iv. . hypocrite. 'no man is a hypocrite in his pleasures,' iv. . i. i. 'i put my hat upon my head,' ii. , n. . idea. 'that fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one,' ii. ; 'there is never one idea by the side of another,' iv. . idle. 'if we were all idle, there would be no growing weary,' ii. ; 'we would all be idle if we could,' iii. . idleness. 'i would rather trust his idleness than his fraud,' v. . ignorance. 'a man may choose whether he will have abstemiousness and knowledge, or claret and ignorance,' iii. ; 'he did not know enough of greek to be sensible of his ignorance of the language,' iv. , n. ; 'his ignorance is so great i am afraid to show him the bottom of it,' iv. , n. 'ignorance, madam, pure ignorance,' i. ; 'sir, you talk the language of ignorance,' ii. . ignorant. 'the ignorant are always trying to be cunning,' v. , n. ; 'we believe men ignorant till we know that they are learned,' v. . ill. 'a man could not write so ill if he should try,' iii. . ill-fed. 'it is as bad as bad can be; it is ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept and ill-drest,' iv. . imagery. 'he that courts his mistress with roman imagery deserves to lose her,' v. , n. . imagination. 'there is in them what _was_ imagination,' i. ; 'this is only a disordered imagination taking a different turn,' iii. . immortality. 'if it were not for the notion of immortality he would cut a throat to fill his pockets,' ii. . impartial. 'foote is quite impartial, for he tells lies of everybody,' ii. . imports. 'let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong,' iv. . impossible. 'that may be, sir, but it is impossible for you to know it,' ii. , n. ; 'i would it had been impossible,' ii. , n. . impotence. 'he is narrow, not so much from avarice as from impotence to spend his money,' iii. . impressions. 'do not accustom yourself to trust to impressions,' iv. . impudence. 'an instance how far impudence could carry ignorance,' iii. . incompressible. 'foote is the most incompressible fellow that i ever knew,' &c., v. . india. 'nay, don't give us india,' v. . inebriation. 'he is without skill in inebriation,' iii. . inferior. 'to an inferior it is oppressive; to a superior it is insolent,' v. . inferiority. 'there is half a guinea's worth of inferiority to other people in not having seen it,' ii. . infidel. 'if he be an infidel he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel,' ii. ; 'shunning an infidel to-day and getting drunk to-morrow' (a celebrated friend), iii. . ingrat. 'je fais cent mécontens et un ingrat' (voltaire), ii. , n. . innovation. 'tyburn itself is not safe from the fury of innovation,' iv. . insignificance. 'they will be tamed into insignificance,' v. , n. . insolence. 'sir, the insolence of wealth will creep out,' iii. . intention. 'we cannot prove any man's intention to be bad,' ii. . intrepidity. 'he has an intrepidity of talk, whether he understands the subject or not,' v. . inverted. 'sir, he has the most _inverted_ understanding of any man whom i have ever known,' iii. . irons. 'the best thing i can advise you to do is to put your tragedy along with your irons,' iii. , n. . irresistibly. 'no man believes himself to be impelled irresistibly,' iv. . it. 'it is not so. do not tell this again,' iii. . j. jack. 'if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed,' ii. , n. ; iii. . jack ketch. 'dine with jack wilkes, sir! i'd as soon dine with jack ketch' (boswell), iii. . jealous. 'little people are apt to be jealous,' iii. . joke. 'i may be cracking my joke, and cursing the sun,' iv. . jokes. 'a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance,' ii. . jostle. 'yes, sir, if it were necessary to jostle him _down_,' ii. . jostled. 'after we had been jostled into conversation,' iv. , n. . judge. 'a judge may be a farmer; but he is not to geld his own pigs,' ii. . jury. 'consider, sir, how should you like, though conscious of your innocence, to be tried before a jury for a capital crime once a week,' iii. . k. keep. 'you _have_ lord kames, keep him,' ii. . kindness. 'always, sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness,' iv. ; 'to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life,' iii. . knew. 'george the first knew nothing and desired to know nothing; did nothing, and desired to do nothing,' ii. . knocked. 'he should write so as he may _live_ by them, not so as he may be knocked on the head,' ii. . knowing. 'it is a pity he is not knowing,' ii. . knowledge. 'a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind,' i. ; 'a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge,' iii. . l. labour. 'it appears to me that i labour when i say a good thing,' iii. ; v. ; 'no man loves labour for itself,' ii. . lace. 'let us not be found, when our master calls us, ripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and tongues,' iii. , n. . laced coat. 'one loves a plain coat, another loves a laced coat,' ii. . laced waistcoat. if everybody had laced waistcoats we should have people working in laced waistcoats,' ii. . _laetus. 'aliis laetus, sapiens sibi_,' iii. . languages. 'languages are the pedigree of nations,' v. . latin. 'he finds out the latin by the meaning, rather than the meaning by the latin,' ii. . lawyers. 'a bookish man should always have lawyers to converse with,' iii. . lay. 'lay your knife and your fork across your plate,' ii. . lay out. 'sir, you cannot give me an instance of any man who is permitted to lay out his own time contriving not to have tedious hours,' ii. . lean. 'every heart must lean to somebody,' i. . learning. 'he had no more learning than what he could not help,' iii. ; 'i am always for getting a boy forward in his learning,' iii. ; 'i never frighten young people with difficulties [as to learning],' v. ; 'their learning is like bread in a besieged town; every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal,' ii. . legs. 'sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first,' i. ; 'a man who loves to fold his legs and have out his talk,' iii. ; 'his two legs brought him to that,' v. . leisure. 'if you are sick, you are sick of leisure,' iv. . levellers. 'your levellers wish to level _down_ as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling _up_ to themselves,' i. . lexicographer. 'these were the dreams of a poet doomed at last to wake a lexicographer,' v. , n. . liar. 'the greatest liar tells more truth than falsehood,' iii. . libel. 'boswell's _life of johnson_ is a new kind of libel' (dr. blagden), iv. , n. . _liber. 'liber ut esse velim,_' &c., i. , n. . liberty. 'all _boys_ love liberty,' iii. ; 'i am at liberty to walk into the thames,' iii. ; 'liberty is as ridiculous in his mouth as religion in mine' (wilkes), iii. ; 'no man was at liberty not to have candles in his windows,' iii. ; 'people confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking,' ii. . libraries, 'a robust genius born to grapple with whole libraries' (dr. boswell), iii. . lie. 'do the devils lie? no; for then hell could not subsist' (attributed to sir thomas browne), iii. ; 'he carries out one lie; we know not how many he brings back,' iv. ; 'if i accustom a servant to tell a lie for _me_, have i not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for himself?' i. ; 'sir, if you don't lie, you are a rascal' (colman), iv. ; 'it is only a wandering lie,' iv. , n. ; 'it requires no extraordinary talents to lie and deceive,' v. ; 'never lie in your prayers' (jeremy taylor), iv. . lied. 'why, sir, i do not know that campbell ever lied with pen and ink,' iii. . lies. 'campbell will lie, but he never lies on paper,' i. , n. ; 'knowing as you do the disposition of your countrymen to tell lies in favour of each other,' ii. ; 'he lies and he knows he lies,' iv. ; 'the man who says so lies,' iv. ; 'there are inexcusable lies and consecrated lies,' i. . life. 'a great city is the school for studying life,' iii. ; 'his life was marred by drink and insolence,' iv. , n. ; 'it is driving on the system of life,' iv. ; 'life stands suspended and motionless,' iii. ; 'the tide of life has driven us different ways,' iii. . lights. 'let us have some more of your northern lights; these are mere farthing candles,' v. , n. . limbs. 'the limbs will quiver and move when the soul is gone,' iii. , n. . link. 'nay. sir, don't you perceive that _one_ link cannot clank,' iv. . little. 'it must be born with a man to be contented to take up with little things,' iii. . locally. 'he is only locally at rest,' iii. . london. 'a london morning does not go with the sun,' iv. ; 'when a man is tired of london he is tired of life,' iii. . lord. 'his parts, sir, are pretty well for a lord,' iii. ; 'great lords and great ladies don't love to have their mouths stopped,' iv. ; 'a wit among lords': see below, wits. louse. see above, flea. love. 'it is commonly a weak man who marries for love,' iii. ; 'sir, i love robertson, and i won't talk of his book,' ii. ; 'you all pretend to love me, but you do not love me so well as i myself do,' iv. , n. . luxury. 'no nation was ever hurt by luxury,' ii. . lying. 'by his lying we lose not only our reverence for him, but all comfort in his conversation,' iv. . m. machine. 'if a man would rather be the machine i cannot argue with him,' v. . made dish. 'as for maclaurin's imitation of a made dish, it was a wretched attempt,' i. . madhouses. 'if you should search all the madhouses in england, you would not find ten men who would write so, and think it sense,' iv. . madness. 'with some people gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside down,' iii. . mankind. 'as i know more of mankind i expect less of them,' iv. . many. 'yes, sir, many men, many women, and many children,' i. . market. 'a horse that is brought to market may not be bought, though he is a very good horse,' iv. ; 'let her carry her praise to a better market,' iii. . martyrdom. 'martyrdom is the test,' iv. . mast. 'a man had better work his way before the mast than read them through,' iv. . meal. 'he takes more corn than he can make into meal,' iv. . meanly. 'every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea,' iii. . memory. 'the true art of memory is the art of attention,' iv. , n. . men. 'johnson was willing to take men as they are' (boswell), iii. . merchant. 'an english merchant is a new species of gentleman,' i. , n. . merit. 'like all other men who have great friends, you begin to feel the pangs of neglected merit,' iv. . merriment. 'it would be as wild in him to come into company without merriment, as for a highwayman to take the road without his pistols,' iii. . mighty. 'there is nothing in this mighty misfortune,' i. . milk. 'they are gone to milk the bull,' i. . millions. 'the interest of millions must ever prevail over that of thousands,' ii. . mind. 'a man loves to review his own mind,' iii. ; 'get as much force of mind as you can,' iv. ; 'he fairly puts his mind to yours,' iv. ; 'the true, strong, and sound mind is the mind that can embrace equally great things and small,' iii. ; 'they had mingled minds,' iv. ; 'to have the management of the mind is a great art,' ii. . miser. 'he has not learnt to be a miser,' v. . misery. 'it would be misery to no purpose,' ii. ; 'where there is nothing but pure misery, there never is any recourse to the mention of it,' iv. . misfortunes. 'if a man _talks_ of his misfortunes, there is something in them that is not disagreeable to him,' iv. . miss. 'very well for a young miss's verses,' iii. . monarchy. 'you are for making a monarchy of what should be a a republic' (goldsmith), ii. . money. 'getting money is not all a man's business,' iii. ; 'no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money,' iii. ; '_perhaps_ the money might be _found_, and he was _sure_ that his wife was _gone_,' iv. ; 'there are few ways in which a man can be more innocently employed than in getting money,' ii. ; 'you must compute what you give for money,' iii. . monument, 'like the monument,' i. . mouth. 'he could not mouth and strut as he used to do, after having been in the pillory,' iii. . move. 'when i am to move, there is no matter which leg i move first,' ii. . muddy. 'he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy,' ii. . murder. 'he practised medicine by chance, and grew wise only by murder,' v. , n. . n. names. 'i do not know which of them calls names best,' ii. ; 'the names carry the poet, not the poet the names,' iii. . nap. 'i never take a nap after dinner, but when i have had a bad night, and then the nap takes me,' ii. . narrowness. 'occasionally troubled with a fit of narrowness' (boswell), iv. . nation. 'the true state of every nation is the state of common life,' v. , n. . national. 'national faith is not yet sunk so low,' iv. . native place. 'every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place,' ii. . nature. 'all the rougher powers of nature except thunder were in motion,' iii. ; 'you are so grossly ignorant of human nature as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good principles without having good practice,' v. ; 'nature will rise up, and, claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt political system,' i. . necessity. 'as to the doctrine of necessity, no man believes it,' iv. . neck. 'he gart kings ken that they had a _lith_ in their neck' (lord auchinleck), v. , n. ; 'on a thirtieth of january every king in europe would rise with a crick in his neck' (quin), v. , n. ; 'if you have so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't,' iii. . negative. 'she was as bad as negative badness could be,' v. . never. 'never try to have a thing merely to show that you cannot have it,' iv. . new. 'i found that generally what was new was false' (goldsmith), iii. . newspapers. 'they have a trick of putting everything into the newspapers,' iii. . nicholson. 'my name might originally have been nicholson,' i. . ninepence. see draw. no. 'no tenth transmitter of a foolish face' (savage), i. . non-entity. 'a man degrading himself to a non-entity,' v. . nonsense. 'a man who talks nonsense so well must know that he is talking nonsense,' ii. ; 'nonsense can be defended but by nonsense,' ii. . nose. 'he may then go and take the king of prussia by the nose, at the head of his army,' ii. . nothing. 'rather to do nothing than to do good is the lowest state of a degraded mind,' iv. ; 'sir thomas civil, his lady nothing,' v. . novelties. 'this is a day of novelties,' v. . nurse. 'there is nothing against which an old man should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to nurse,' ii. . o. object. 'nay, sir, if you are born to object i have done with you,' v. . objections. 'so many objections might be made to everything, that nothing could overcome them but the necessity of doing something,' ii. ; 'there is no end of objections,' iii. . oblivion. 'that was a morbid oblivion,' v. . odd. 'nothing odd will do long,' ii. . on't. 'i'll have no more on't,' iv. . oppression. 'unnecessarily to obtrude unpleasing ideas is a species of oppression,' v. , n. . orchard. 'if i come to an orchard,' &c., ii. . out. 'a man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in,' iv. . outlaw. 'sir, he leads the life of an outlaw,' ii. . out-vote. 'though we cannot out-vote them we will out-argue them,' iii. . overflowed. 'the conversation overflowed and drowned him,' ii. . owl. 'placing a timid boy at a public school is forcing an owl upon day,' iv. . p. packhorse. 'a carrier who has driven a packhorse,' &c., v. . packthread. 'when i take up the end of a web, and find it packthread, i do not expect, by looking further, to find embroidery,' ii. . pactolus. 'sir, had you been dipt in pactolus, i should not have noticed you,' iv. . pain. 'he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man,' ii. , n. . painted. 'hailes's _annals of scotland_ have not that painted form which is the taste of this age,' iii. . painting. 'painting, sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform,' iv. . palaces. 'we are not to blow up half a dozen palaces because one cottage is burning,' ii. . pamper. 'no, no, sir; we must not _pamper_ them,' iv. . pant. 'prosaical rogues! next time i write, i'll make both time and space pant,' iv. . paradox. 'no, sir, you are not to talk such paradox,' ii. . parcel. 'we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich beyond the dreams of avarice' (lord lucan's anecdote of johnson), iv. . parents. 'parents not in any other respect to be numbered with robbers and assassins,' &c., iii. , n. . parnassus. see criticism. parsimony. 'he has the crime of prodigality and the wretchedness of parsimony,' iii. . parsons. 'this merriment of parsons is mighty offensive,' iv. . patriotism. 'patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel,' ii. . patriots. 'patriots spring up like mushrooms' (sir r. walpole), iv. , n. ; 'don't let them be patriots,' iv. . patron. 'the patron and the jail,' i. . peccant. 'be sure that the steam be directed to thy _head,_ for _that_ is the _peccant_ part,' ii. . peggy. 'i cannot be worse, and so i'll e'en take peggy,' ii. . pelting. 'no, sir, if they had wit they should have kept pelting me with pamphlets,' ii. . pen. 'no man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had,' iv. . people. 'the lairds, instead of improving their country, diminished their people,' v. . per. _'per mantes notos et flumina nota,'_ i. , n. ; v. , n. . perfect. 'endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect,' iv. . perish. 'let the authority of the english government perish rather than be maintained by iniquity,' ii. . petty. 'these are the petty criticisms of petty wits,' i. . philosopher. 'i have tried in my time to be a philosopher; but i don't know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in' (o. edwards), iii. . philosophical. 'we may suppose a philosophical day-labourer,.... but we find no such philosophical day-labourer,' v. . _philosophus. 'magis philosophus quam christianus,'_ ii. . philosophy. 'it seems to be part of the despicable philosophy of the time to despise monuments of sacred magnificence,' v. , n. . picture. 'sir, among the anfractuosities of the human mind i know not if it may not be one, that there is a superstitious reluctance to sit for a picture,' iv. . piety. 'a wicked fellow is the most pious when he takes to it. he'll beat you all at piety,' iv. . pig. 'pig has, it seems, not been wanting to man, but man to pig,' iv. ; 'it is said the only way to make a pig go forward is to pull him back by the tail,' v. . pillow. 'that will do--all that a pillow can do,' iv. . pistol. 'when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it' (colley cibber) ii. . pity. 'we should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards,' iii. . player. 'a player--a showman--a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling,' ii. . pleasant. 'live pleasant' (burke), i. . please. 'it is very difficult to please a man against his will,' iii. . pleased. 'to make a man pleased with himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing,' iii. . pleasing. 'we all live upon the hope of pleasing somebody,' ii. . pleasure. 'every pleasure is of itself a good,' iii. ; 'pleasure is too weak for them and they seek for pain,' iii. ; 'when one doubts as to pleasure, we know what will be the conclusion,' iii. ; 'when pleasure can be had it is fit to catch it,' iii. . _plenum._ 'there are objections against a _plenum_ and objections against a _vacuum_; yet one of them must certainly be true,' i. . plume. 'this, sir, is a new plume to him,' ii. . pocket. 'i should as soon have thought of picking a pocket,' v. . pockets. see above under immortality. poetry. 'i could as easily apply to law as to tragic poetry,' v. ; 'there is here a great deal of what is called poetry,' iii. . point. 'whenever i write anything the public _make a point_ to know nothing about it' (goldsmith), iii. . poles. 'if all this had happened to me, i should have had a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down everybody that stood in the way,' iii. . politeness. 'politeness is fictitious benevolence,' v. . poor. 'a decent provision for the poor is the true test of civilization,' ii. ; 'resolve never to be poor,' iv. . port. 'it is rowing without a port,' iii. . see claret. post. 'sir, i found i must have gilded a rotten post,' i. , n. . posts. 'if you have the best posts we will have you tied to them and whipped,' v. . pound. 'pound st. paul's church into atoms and consider any single atom; it is to be sure good for nothing; but put all these atoms together, and you have st. paul's church,' i. . poverty. 'when i was running about this town a very poor fellow, i was a great arguer for the advantages of poverty,' i. . power. 'i sell here, sir, what all the world desires to have--power' (boulton), ii. . practice. 'he does not wear out his principles in practice' (beauclerk), iii. . praise. 'all censure of a man's self is oblique praise,' iii. ; 'i know nobody who blasts by praise as you do,' iv. l; 'praise and money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind,' iv. ; 'there is no sport in mere praise, when people are all of a mind,' v. . praises. 'he who praises everybody praises nobody,' iii. , n. . prance. 'sir, if a man has a mind to _prance_ he must study at christ church and all souls,' ii. , n. . precedency. see above, flea. pre-eminence. 'painful pre-eminence' (addison), iii. , n. . prejudice. 'he set out with a prejudice against prejudices,' ii. . presence. 'never speak of a man in his own presence. it is always indelicate, and may be offensive,' ii. ; 'sir, i honour derrick for his presence of mind,' i. . prig. 'harris is a prig, and a bad prig,' iii. ; 'what! a prig, sir?' 'worse, madam, a whig. but he is both,' iii. . principles. 'sir, you are so grossly ignorant of human nature as not to know, that a man may be very sincere in good principles without having good practice,' v. . probabilities. 'balancing probabilities,' iv. . prodigality. see above, parsimony. profession. 'no man would be of any profession as simply opposed to not being of it,' ii. . propagate. 'i would advise no man to marry, sir, who is not likely to propagate understanding,' ii. , n. . proportion. 'it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them,' ii. . prospects. 'norway, too, has noble wild prospects,' i. . prosperity. 'sir, you see in him vulgar prosperity,' iii. . prove. 'how will you prove that, sir?' i. , n. . proverb. 'a man should take care not to be made a proverb,' iii. . pry. 'he may still see, though he may not pry,' iii. . public. 'sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves public without making themselves known,' i. . pudding. 'yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plum-pudding the less,' ii. . _puérilités. 'il y a beaucoup de puérilités dans la guerre_,' iii. . purposes. 'the mind is enlarged and elevated by mere purposes,' iv. , n. . putrescence. 'you would not have me for fear of pain perish in putrescence,' iv. , n. . q. _quare_. 'a writ of _quare adhaesit pavimento_' (wags of the northern circuit), iii. , n. . quarrel. 'perhaps the less we quarrel, the more we hate,' iii. , n. . quarrels. 'men will be sometimes surprised into quarrels,' iii. , n. . questioning. 'questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen,' ii. . quiet. 'your primary consideration is your own quiet,' iii. . quiver. 'the limbs will quiver and move when the soul is gone,' iii. , n. . r. rage. 'he has a rage for saying something where there is nothing to be said,' i. . rags. 'rags, sir, will always make their appearance where they have a right to do it,' iv. . rained. 'if it rained knowledge i'd hold out my hand,' iii. . rascal. 'i'd throw such a rascal into the river,' i. ; 'with a little more spoiling you will, i think, make me a complete rascal,' iii. ; 'don't be afraid, sir, you will soon make a very pretty rascal,' iv. ; 'every man of any education would rather be called a rascal than accused of deficiency in the graces,' iii. . rascals. 'sir, there are rascals in all countries,' iii. . rationality. 'an obstinate rationality prevents me,' iv. . rattle. 'the lad does not care for the child's rattle,' ii. . read. 'we must read what the world reads at the moment,' iii. . rear. 'sir, i can make him rear,' iv. . reason. 'you may have a reason why two and two should make five, but they will still make but four,' iii. . rebellion. 'all rebellion is natural to man,' v. . reciprocate. 'madam, let us reciprocate,' iii. . reconciled. 'beware of a reconciled enemy' (italian proverb), iii. . reddening. 'it is better she should be reddening her own cheeks than blackening other people's characters,' iii. . reform. 'it is difficult to reform a household gradually,' iii. . religion. 'i am no friend to making religion appear too hard,' v. ; 'religion scorns a foe like thee' (_epigram),_ iv. . rent. 'amendments are seldom made without some token of a rent,' iv. . repaid. 'boswell, lend me sixpence--not to be repaid,' iv. . repairs. 'there is a time of life, sir, when a man requires the repairs of a table,' i. , n. . repeating. 'i know nothing more offensive than repeating what one knows to be foolish things, by way of continuing a dispute, to see what a man will answer,' iii. . reputation. 'jonas acquired some reputation by travelling abroad, but lost it all by travelling at home,' ii. . resentment. 'resentment gratifies him who intended an injury,' iv. . respected. 'sir, i never before knew how much i was respected by these gentlemen; they told me none of these things,' iii. . reviewers. 'set reviewers at defiance,' v. ; 'the reviewers will make him hang himself,' iii. . rich. 'it is better to live rich than to die rich,' iii. . ridicule. 'ridicule has gone down before him,' i. ; 'ridicule is not your talent,' iv. . ridiculous. see chimney. right. 'because a man cannot be right in all things, is he to be right in nothing?' iii. ; 'it seems strange that a man should see so far to the right who sees so short a way to the left,' iv. . rising. 'i am glad to find that the man is rising in the world,' ii. , n. . rock. 'it is like throwing peas against a rock,' v. ; 'madam, were they in asia i would not leave the rock,' v. . rocks. 'if anything rocks at all, they say it rocks like a cradle,' iii. . rope-dancing. 'let him take a course of chemistry, or a course of rope-dancing,' ii. . rotten. 'depend upon it, sir, he who does what he is afraid should be known has something rotten about him,' ii. ; 'then your rotten sheep are mine,' v. . round. 'round numbers are always false,' iii. , n. . ruffian. 'i hope i shall never be deterred from detecting what i think a cheat by the menaces of a ruffian,' ii. . ruffle. 'if a mere wish could attain it, a man would rather wish to be able to hem a ruffle,' ii. . ruffles. 'ancient ruffles and modern principles do not agree,' iv. . ruining. 'he is ruining himself without pleasure,' iii. . runts. 'mr. johnson would learn to talk of runts' (mrs. salusbury), iii. . s. sailor. 'no man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a gaol,' v. . sat. 'yes, sir, if he sat next _you_,' ii. . savage. 'you talk the language of a savage,' ii. . savages. 'one set of savages is like another,' iv. . say. 'the man is always willing to say what he has to say,' iii. . scarlet breeches. 'it has been a fashion to wear scarlet breeches; these men would tell you that, according to causes and effects, no other wear could at that time have been chosen,' iv. . scheme. 'nothing is more hopeless than a scheme of merriment,' i. , n. . schemes. 'it sometimes happens that men entangle themselves in their own schemes,' iii. ; 'most schemes of political improvement are very laughable things,' ii. . schoolboy. 'a schoolboy's exercise may be a pretty thing for a schoolboy, but it is no treat for a man,' ii. . schoolmaster. 'you may as well praise a schoolmaster for whipping a boy who has construed ill,' ii. . scotch. 'i'd rather have you whistle a scotch tune,' iv. ; 'scotch conspiracy in national falsehood,' ii. ; 'sir, it is not so much to be lamented that old england is lost as that the scotch have found it,' iii. ; 'why, sir, all barrenness is comparative. the _scotch_ would not know it to be barren,' iii. . scotchman. 'come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one scotchman who is cheerful,' iii. ; 'come, let me know what it is that makes a scotchman happy,' v. ; 'he left half a crown to a beggarly scotchman to draw the trigger after his death,' i. ; 'much may be made of a scotchman, if he be caught young,' ii. ; 'one scotchman is as good as another,' iv. ; 'the noblest prospect which a scotchman ever sees is the high road that leads him to england,' i. ; v. ; 'though the dog is a scotchman and a presbyterian, and everything he should not be,' &c., iv. ; 'why, sir, i should _not_ have said of buchanan, had he been an _englishman,_ what i will now say of him as a _scotchman,_ --that he was the only man of genius his country ever produced,' iv. ; 'you would not have been so valuable as you are had you not been a scotchman,' iii. . scotchmen. _'droves_ of scotchmen would come up and attest anything for the honour of scotland,' ii. ; 'i shall suppose scotchmen made necessarily, and englishmen by choice,' v. ; 'it was remarked of mallet that he was the only scot whom scotchmen did not commend,' ii. , n. ; 'we have an inundation of scotchmen' (wilkes), iv. . scotland. 'a scotchman must be a very sturdy moralist who does not love scotland better than truth,' ii. , _n. _; v. , n. ; 'describe the inn, sir? why, it was so bad that boswell wished to be in scotland,' iii. ; 'if one man in scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds, what remains for all the rest of the nation?' iv. ; 'oats. a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people,' i. , n. ; 'seeing scotland, madam, is only seeing a worse england,' iii. ; 'sir, you have desert enough in scotland,' ii. ; 'things which grow wild here must be cultivated with great care in scotland. pray, now, are you ever able to bring the sloe to perfection?' ii. ; 'why so is scotland _your_ native place,' ii. . scoundrel. 'fludyer turned out a scoundrel, a whig,' ii. ; 'i told her she was a scoundrel' (a carpenter), ii. , n. ; 'ready to become a scoundrel, madam,' iii. ; 'sir, he was a scoundrel and coward,' i. . screen. 'he stood as a screen between me and death' (swift), iii. , n. . scribbling. 'the worst way of being intimate is by scribbling,' v. . scruples. 'whoever loads life with unnecessary scruples,' &c., ii. , n. . see. 'let us endeavour to see things as they are,' i. . _semel baro semper baro_ (boswell), i. , n. . send. 'nay, sir; we'll send you to him,' iii. . sensation. 'sensation is sensation,' v. . sense. 'he grasps more sense than he can hold,' iv. : 'nay, sir, it was not the _wine_ that made your head ache, but the _sense_ that i put into it,' iii. . serenity. 'the serenity that is not felt it can be no virtue to feign,' iv. . severity. 'severity is not the way to govern either boys or men' (lord mansfield), ii. . shadowy. 'why, sir, something of a shadowy being,' ii. . shallows. 'all shallows are clear,' v. , n. . sherry. 'why, sir, sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him. such an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in nature,' i. . shift. 'as long as you have the use of your tongue and your pen, never, sir, be reduced to that shift,' iv. , n. . shine. 'you shine, indeed, but it is by being ground,' iii. . ship. being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned,' i. ; v. ; 'it is getting on horseback in a ship' (hierocles), v. . shirt. 'it is like a shirt made for a man when he was a child and enlarged always as he grows older,' v. . shiver. 'why do you shiver?' i. . shoe. 'had the girl in _the mourning bride_ said she could not cast her shoe to the top of one of the pillars in the temple, it would not have aided the idea, but weakened it,' ii. . shoemaker. 'as i take my shoes from the shoemaker and my coat from the tailor, so i take my religion from the priest' (goldsmith), ii. . shoes. 'mankind could do better without your books than without my shoes,' i. . shoot. 'you do not see one man shoot a great deal higher than another,' ii. ; 'you have _set_ him that i might shoot him, but i have not shot him,' iv. . shooters. 'where there are many shooters, some will hit,' iii. . short-hand. 'a long head is as good as short-hand' (mrs. thrale), iv. . shot. 'he is afraid of being shot getting _into_ a house, or hanged when he has got _out_ of it,' iv. . sick. 'sir, you have but two topics, yourself and me, i am sick of both,' iii. ; 'to a sick man what is the public?' iv. , n. . sieve. 'sir, that is the blundering economy of a narrow understanding. it is stopping one hole in a sieve,' iii. . sinning. 'the gust of eating pork with the pleasure of sinning' (dr. barrowby), iv. . slaughter-house. 'let's go into the slaughter-house again, lanky. but i am afraid there is more blood than brains,' iv. . slight. 'if it is a slight man and a slight thing you may [laugh at a man to his face], for you take nothing valuable from him,' iii. . slut. 'she was generally slut and drunkard, occasionally whore and thief,' iv. . small. 'small certainties are the bane of men of talents' (strahan), ii. . smile. 'let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich,' ii. . sober. 'i would not keep company with a fellow who lies as long as he is sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth out of him,' ii. . society. 'he puts something into our society and takes nothing out of it,' v. . socket. 'the blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket,' iii. . soft. 'sir, it is such a recommendation as if i should throw you out of a two pair of stairs window, and recommend to you to fall soft,' iv. . soldiers. 'soldiers die scattering bullets,' v. . solemnity. 'there must be a kind of solemnity in the manner of a professional man,' iv. . solitary. 'be not solitary, be not idle' (burton), iii. . solitude. 'this full-peopled world is a dismal solitude,' iv. , n. . sorrow. 'there is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow,' iii. , n. . sorry. 'sir, he said all that a man should say; he said he was sorry for it,' ii. . sparrows. 'you may take a field piece to shoot sparrows, but all the sparrows you can bring home will not be worth the charge,' v. . _spartam. 'spartam quam nactus es orna_,' iv. . speak. 'a man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except he relates simple facts,' iii. . spend. 'he has neither spirit to spend nor resolution to spare,' iii. . spends. 'a man who both spends and saves money is the happiest man,' iii. . spiritual court. 'sir, i can put her into the spiritual court,' i. . splendour. 'let us breakfast in splendour,' iii. . spoiled. 'like sour small beer, she could never have been a good thing, and even that bad thing is spoiled,' v. , n. . spoons. 'if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons,' i. . stamp. 'i was resolved not to give you the advantage even of a stamp in the argument' (parr), iv. , n. . stand. 'they resolved they would _stand by their country,'_ i. . stately. 'that will not be the case [i.e. you will not be imposed on] if you go to a stately shop, as i always do,' iv. . stocks. 'a man who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers enough,' ii. ; 'stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women, and a pound for beasts,' iii. . stone. 'chinese is only more difficult from its rudeness; as there is more labour in hewing down a tree with a stone than with an axe,' iii. . stones. 'i don't care how often or how high he tosses me when only friends are present, for then i fall upon soft ground; but i do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present' (boswell), iii. ; 'the boys would throw stones at him,' ii. . story. 'if you were to read richardson for the story your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself,' ii. . story-teller. 'i told the circumstance first for my own amusement, but i will not be dragged in as story-teller to a company,' iv. , n. . straight. 'he has a great deal of learning; but it never lies straight,' iv. . strange. 'i'm never strange in a strange place' (journey to london), iv. . stratagem. 'this comes of stratagem,' iii. . straw. 'the first man who balanced a straw upon his nose... deserved the applause of mankind,' iii. . stretch. 'babies like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds,' iv. , n. . strike. 'a man cannot strike till he has his weapons,' iii. . stuff. 'it is sad stuff; it is brutish,' ii. ; 'this now is such stuff as i used to talk to my mother, when i first began to think myself a clever fellow, and she ought to have whipped me for it,' ii. . stunned. 'we are not to be stunned and astonished by him,' iv. . stye. 'sir, he brings himself to the state of a hog in a stye,' iii. . style. 'nothing is more easy than to write enough in that style if once you begin,' v. . succeed. 'he is only fit to succeed himself,' ii. . successful. 'man commonly cannot be successful in different ways,' iv. . suicide. 'sir, it would be a civil suicide,' iv. . sullen. 'harris is a sound sullen scholar,' iii. . sunshine. 'dr. mead lived more in the broad sunshine of life than almost any man,' iii. . superiority. 'you shall retain your superiority by my not knowing it,' ii. . surly. 'surly virtue,' i. . suspicion. 'suspicion is very often an useless pain,' iii. . sweet. 'it has not wit enough to keep it sweet,' iv. . sword. 'it is like a man who has a sword that will not draw,' ii. . sybil. 'it has all the contortions of the sybil, without the inspiration,' iv. . system. 'no, sir, let fanciful men do as they will, depend upon it, it is difficult to disturb the system of life,' ii. . systematically. 'kurd, sir, is one of a set of men who account for everything systematically,' iv. . t. table. 'sir, if lord mansfield were in a company of general officers and admirals who have been in service, he would shrink; he'd wish to creep under the table,' iii. ; 'as to the style, it is fit for the second table,' iii. . tail. 'if any man has a tail, it is col,' v. ; 'i will not be baited with what and why; what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail bushy?' iii. . tails. 'if they have tails they hide them,' v. . talk. 'solid talk,' v. :' there is neither meat, drink, nor talk,' iii. , n. ; 'well, we had good talk,' ii. ; 'you may talk as other people do,' iv. . talked. 'while they talked, you said nothing,' v. . talking. 'people may come to do anything almost, by talking of it,' v. . talks. 'a man who talks for fame never can be pleasing. the man who talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you,' iii. . tasks. 'never impose tasks upon mortals,' iii. . tavern. 'a tavern chair is the throne of human felicity,' ii. , n. . teach. 'it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first,' i. . tea-kettle. 'we must not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle here with the roaring of the ocean,' ii. , n. i. tell. 'it is not so; do not tell this again,' iii. ; 'why, sir, so am i. but i do not tell it,' iv. . tenderness. 'want of tenderness is want of parts,' ii. . terror. 'looking back with sorrow and forward with terror,' iv. , n. . testimony. 'testimony is like an arrow shot from a long bow' (boyle), iv. . _tête-à-tête._ 'you must not indulge your delicacy too much; or you will be a _tête-à-tête_ man all your life,' iii. . the. 'the tender infant, meek and mild,' ii. , n. . theologian. 'i say, lloyd, i'm the best theologian, but you are the best christian,' vi. liv. thief. see slut. think. you may talk in this manner,....but don't _think_ foolishly,' iv. ; 'to attempt to think them down is madness,' ii. . thought. 'thought is better than no thought,' iv. . thousand. 'a man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set down to throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to count his dice,' iv. . _tig._ 'there was too much _tig_ and _tirry_ in it,' ii. , n. . timber. 'consider, sir, the value of such a piece of timber here,' v. . time. 'he that runs against time has an antagonist not subject to casualties,' i. , n. . timidity. 'i have no great timidity in my own disposition, and am no encourager of it in others,' iv. , n. . tiptoe. 'he is tall by walking on tiptoe,' iv. , n. . tongue. 'what have you to do with liberty and necessity? or what more than to hold your tongue about it?' iv. . topics. see sick. tormentor. 'that creature was its own tormentor, and, i believe, its name was boswell,' i. . torpedo. 'a pen is to tom a torpedo; the touch of it benumbs his hand and his brain,' i. , n. . tossed. 'you tossed and gored several persons' (boswell), ii. ; iii. towering. 'towering in the confidence of twenty-one,' i. . town. 'the town is my element,' iv. . towser. 'as for an estate newly acquired by trade, you may give it, if you will, to the dog towser, and let him keep his own name,' ii. . trade. 'a merchant may, perhaps, be a man of an enlarged mind; but there is nothing in trade connected with an enlarged mind, v. ; 'this rage of trade will destroy itself,' v. . tradesmen. 'they have lost the civility of tradesmen without acquiring the manners of gentlemen,' ii. . tragedy. 'i never did the man an injury; but he would persist in reading his tragedy to me,' iv. , n. . translation. 'sir, i do not say that it may not be made a very good translation,' iii. . transmitter. 'no tenth transmitter of a foolish face' (savage), i. , n. . traps. 'i play no tricks; i lay no traps,' iii. . travellers. 'ancient travellers guessed, modern measure,' iii. ; 'there has been, of late, a strange turn in travellers to be displeased,' iii. . travelling. 'when you set travelling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is better to be sure,' iii. . tricks. 'all tricks are either knavish or childish,' iii. . trim. 'a mile may be as trim as a square yard,' iii. . triumph. 'it was the triumph of hope over experience,' ii. . truth. 'i considered myself as entrusted with a certain portion of truth,' iv. ; 'every man has a right to utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down for it,' iv. ; 'nobody has a right to put another under such a difficulty that he must either hurt the person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not truth,' iii. ; 'poisoning the sources of eternal truth,' v. . tumbling. 'sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of society, than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his hands will continue to tumble upon his hands when he should walk on his feet,' ii. . turn. 'he had no turn to economy' (langton), iii, , n. . turnpike. 'for my own part now, i consider supper as a turnpike through which one must pass in order to get to bed' (boswell or edwards), iii. . turnspit. 'the fellow is as awkward as a turnspit when first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse,' iv. . tyranny. 'there is a remedy in human nature against tyranny,' ii. . u. uncertainty. 'after the uncertainty of all human things at hector's this invitation came very well,' ii. . uncharitably. 'who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? iv. . uncivil. 'i _did_ mean to be uncivil, thinking _you_ had been uncivil,' iii. ; 'sir, a man has no more right to _say_ an uncivil thing than to _act one_,' iv. . undermined. 'a stout healthy old man is like a tower undermined' (bacon), iv. . understanding. 'sir, i have found you an argument, but i am not obliged to find you an understanding,' iv. ; 'when it comes to dry understanding, man has the better [of woman],' iii. . uneasy. 'i am angry with him who makes me uneasy,' iii. ii. unpliable. 'she had come late into life, and had a mighty unpliable understanding,' v. . unsettle. 'they tended to unsettle everything, and yet settled nothing,' ii. . use. 'never mind the use; do it,' ii. . v. vacuity. 'i find little but dismal vacuity, neither business nor pleasure,' iii. , n. ; 'madam, i do not like to come down to vacuity,' ii. . verse. 'verse sweetens toil' (gifford), v. . verses. 'they are the forcible verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accustomed to write verse,' iv. . vex. 'he delighted to vex them, no doubt; but he had more delight in seeing how well he could vex them,' ii. ; 'sir, he hoped it would vex somebody,' iv. ; 'public affairs vex no man,' iv. . vice. 'thy body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue,' i. ; 'madam, you are here not for the love of virtue but the fear of vice,' ii. . virtue. 'i think there is some reason for questioning whether virtue cannot stand its ground as long as life,' iv. , n. . _vitam. 'vitam continet una dies,'_ i, . vivacity. 'there is a courtly vivacity about the fellow,' ii. ; 'depend upon it, sir, vivacity is much an art, and depends greatly on habit,' ii. . _vivite. 'vivite laeti_,' i. , n. . vow. 'the man who cannot go to heaven without a vow may go--,' iii. . w. wag. 'every man has some time in his life an ambition to be a wag,' iv. i, n. . wait. 'sir, i can wait,' iv. . walk. 'let us take a walk from charing cross to whitechapel, through, i suppose, the greatest series of shops in the world,' ii. . want. 'you have not mentioned the greatest of all their wants--the want of law,' ii. ; 'have you no better manners? there is your want,' ii. . wants. 'we are more uneasy from thinking of our wants than happy in thinking of our acquisitions' (windham), iii. . war. 'war and peace divide the business of the world,' iii. , n. . watch. 'he was like a man who resolves to regulate his time by a certain watch, but will not enquire whether the watch is right or not,' ii. . water. 'a man who is drowned has more water than either of us,' v. ; 'come, sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred,' iii. ; 'water is the same everywhere,' v. . way. 'sir, you don't see your way through that question,' ii. . weak-nerved. 'i know no such weak-nerved people,' iv. . wealth. 'the sooner that a man begins to enjoy his wealth the better,' ii. . wear. 'no man's face has had more wear and tear,' ii. . weight. 'he runs about with little weight upon his mind,' ii. . well. 'they are well when they are not ill' (temple), iv. . wench. 'madam, she is an odious wench,' iii. . whales. 'if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales' (goldsmith), ii. . whelp. 'it is wonderful how the whelp has written such things,' iii. . whig. 'a whig may be a fool, a tory must be so' (horace walpole), iv. , n. ; 'he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue, and he hated a whig; he was a very good hater,' i. , n. ; 'he was a whig who pretended to be honest,' v. ; 'i do not like much to see a whig in any dress, but i hate to see a whig in a parson's gown,' v. ; 'sir, he is a cursed whig, a bottomless whig, as they all are now,' iv. ; 'sir, i perceive you are a vile whig,' ii. ; 'the first whig was the devil,' iii. ; 'though a whig, he had humanity' (a. campbell), v. . whiggism. 'they have met in a place where there is no room for whiggism,' v. ; 'whiggism was latterly no better than the politics of stock-jobbers, and the religion of infidels,' ii. ; 'whiggism is a negation of all principle,' i. . whine. 'a man knows it must be so and submits. it will do him no good to whine,' ii. . whore. 'they teach the morals of a whore and the manners of a dancing-master,' i. ; 'the woman's a whore, and there's an end on't,' ii. . see slut. why, sir. 'why, sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing--,' iii. . wig. 'in england any man who wears a sword and a powdered wig is ashamed to be illiterate,' iii. . wilds. see briars. wind. 'the noise of the wind was all its own' (boswell), v. . window. see soft. wine. 'i now no more think of drinking wine than a horse does,' iii. ; 'it is wine only to the eye,' iii. ; 'this is one of the disadvantages of wine. it makes a man mistake words for thoughts,' iii. : see sense. wisdom. 'every man is to take care of his own wisdom, and his own virtue, without minding too much what others think,' iii. . wit. 'his trade is wit,' iii. ; 'his trade was wisdom' (baretti), iii. , n. ; 'sir, mrs. montagu does not make a trade of her wit,' iv. ; 'this man, i thought, had been a lord among wits; but i find he is only a wit among lords,' i. ; 'wit is generally false reasoning' (wycherley), iii. , n. . without. 'without ands or ifs,' &c. (anonymous poet), v. . woman. 'no woman is the worse for sense and knowledge,' v. . woman's. 'sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. it is not done well; but you are surprised to find it done at all,' i. . women. 'women have a perpetual envy of our vices,' iv. . wonder. 'the natural desire of man to propagate a wonder,' iii. , n. ; 'sir, you _may_ wonder, ii. . wonders. 'catching greedily at wonders,' i. , n. . wool. 'robertson is like a man who has packed gold in wool; the wool takes up more room than the gold,' ii. . work. 'how much do you think you and i could get in a week if we were to _work as hard_ as we could?' i. . world. 'all the complaints which are made of the world are unjust,' iv. ; 'poets who go round the world,' v. ; 'one may be so much a man of the world as to be nothing in the world,' iii. ; 'the world has always a right to be regarded, ii. , n. ; 'this world where much is to be done, and little to be known,' iv. , n. ; 'that man sat down to write a book to tell the world what the world had all his life been telling him,' ii. . worst. 'it may be said of the worst man that he does more good than evil,' iii. . worth. 'worth seeing? yes; but not worth going to see,' iii. . write. 'a man should begin to write soon,' iv. . writing. 'i allow you may have pleasure from writing after it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it again,' iv. . written. 'i never desire to converse with a man who has written more than he has read,' ii. , n. ; 'no man was ever written down but by himself (bentley), v. . wrong. 'it is not probable that two people can be wrong the same way,' iv. . y. yelps. 'how is it that we hear the loudest yelps for liberty among the drivers of negroes?' iii. . yes. 'do you know how to say _yes_ or _no_ properly?' (swift), iv. , n. . z. zealous. 'i do not love a man who is zealous for nothing' (goldsmith), iii. . dr. johnson's works. life, poems, and tales. the works of samuel johnson, ll.d. in nine volumes. volume the first. mdcccxxv advertisement. it may be asserted, without a partial panegyric of the object of our praise, that the works of no single author in the wide range of british literature, not excepting, perhaps, even addison, contain a richer and more varied fund of rational entertainment and sound instruction than those of dr. johnson. a correct edition of his works must, therefore, be an acceptable contribution to the mass of national literature. that the present edition has, perhaps, fairer claims on public approbation than most preceding ones, we feel ourselves justified in asserting, without envious detraction of those who have gone before us. it has been our wish and diligent endeavour to give as accurate a text as possible, to which we have subjoined notes, where elucidation seemed to be required. they have been collected with care, and will prove our impartiality by their occasional censures of the faults and failings of the writer whose works it is our office to illustrate, and our more common and more grateful task to praise. though, being diffused over a wide space, they appear less numerous than they really are, it has been our incessant care to abstain from that method of redundant annotation, which tends to display the ingenuity or mental resources of an editor, much more than to illustrate the original writer. notes have been chiefly introduced for the purpose of guarding our readers against some political sophisms, or to correct some hasty error. but happily, in the writings to which we have devoted our time and attention, the chaff and dross lie so open to view, and are so easily separated from purer matter, that a hint is sufficient to protect the most incautious from harm. accordingly, in our notes and prefaces we have confined ourselves to simple and succinct histories of the respective works under consideration, and have avoided, as much as might be, a burdensome repetition of criticisms or anecdotes, in almost every person's possession, or an idle pointing out of beauties which none could fail to recognise. the length of time that has elapsed since the writings of johnson were first published, has amply developed their intrinsic merits, and destroyed the personal and party prejudices which assail a living author: but the years have been too few to render the customs and manners alluded to so obsolete as to require much illustrative research.[a] it may be satisfactory to subjoin, that care has been exercised in every thing that we have advanced, and that when we have erred, it has been on the side of caution. all the usually received works of dr. johnson, together with murphy's essay on his life and genius, are comprised in this edition. in pursuance of our plan of brevity, we shall not here give a list of his minor and unacknowledged productions, but refer our readers to boswell; a new, amended, and enlarged edition of whose interesting and picturesque memoirs we purpose speedily to present to the public, after the style and manner of the present work. one very important addition, however, we conceive that we have made, in publishing the whole of his sermons. it has been hitherto the practice to give one or two, with a cursory notice, that johnson's theological knowledge was scanty, or unworthy of his general fame. we have acted under a very different impression; for though johnson was not, nor pretended to be, a polemical or controversial divine, he well knew how to apply to the right regulation of our moral conduct the lessons of that christianity which was not promulged for a sect, but for mankind; which sought not a distinctive garb in the philosopher's grove, nor secluded itself in the hermit's cell, but entered without reserve every walk of life, and sympathized with all the instinctive feelings of our common nature. this high privilege of our religion johnson felt, and to the diffusion of its practical, not of its theoretical advantages, he applied the energies of his heart and mind; and with what success, we leave to every candid reader to pronounce. in conclusion, we would express a hope that we shall not inaptly commence a series of oxford english classics with the works of one whose writings have so enlarged and embellished the science of moral evidence, which has long constituted a characteristic feature in the literary discipline of this university. the science of mind and its progress, as recorded by history, or unfolded by biography, was johnson's favourite study, and is still the main object of pursuit in the place whose system and institutions he so warmly praised, and to which he ever professed himself so deeply indebted. if the terseness of attic simplicity has been desiderated by some in the pages of johnson, they undeniably display the depth of thought, the weight of argument, the insight into mind and morals, which are to be found in their native dignity only in the compositions of those older writers with whose spirit he was so richly imbued. in this place, then, where those models which johnson admired and imitated are still upheld as the only sure guides to sound learning, his writings can never be laid aside unread and neglected. oxford, june , . [a] see a remark on this subject made by johnson, with reference to the spectator, and all other works of the same class, which describe manners. boswell, ii. , and prefatory notice to rambler, vol. i. contents of the first volume. essay on the life and genius of dr. johnson poems. london the vanity of human wishes prologue, spoken by mr. garrick, at the opening of the theatre-royal, drury lane prefatory notice to the tragedy of irene prologue irene epilogue, by sir william yonge prologue to the masque of comus prologue to the comedy of the good-natured man prologue to the comedy of a word to the wise spring midsummer autumn winter the winter's walk to miss ****, on her giving the author a gold and silk network purse, of her own weaving to miss ****, on her playing upon the harpsichord, in a room hung with flower-pieces of her own painting evening; an ode to the same to a friend stella in mourning to stella verses, written at the request of a gentleman, to whom a lady had given a sprig of myrtle to lady firebrace, at bury assizes to lyce, an elderly lady on the death of mr. robert levet epitaph on claude phillips epitaphium in thomam hanmer, baronettum paraphrase of the above, by dr. johnson to miss hickman, playing on the spinet paraphrase of proverbs, chap. vi. verses - horace, lib. iv. ode vii. translated anacreon, ode ix lines written in ridicule of certain poems published in parody of a translation from the medea of euripides translation from the medea of euripides translation of the two first stanzas of the song "rio verde, rio verde" imitation of the style of **** burlesque of some lines of lopez de vega translation of some lines at the end of baretti's easy phraseology improviso translation of a distich on the duke of modena's running away from the comet in or improviso translation of some lines of m. benserade à son lit epitaph for mr. hogarth translation of some lines, written under a print representing persons skating impromptu translation of the same to mrs. thrale, on her completing her thirty-fifth year impromptu translation of an air in the clemenza di tito of metastasio translation of a speech of aquileio in the adriano of metastasio burlesque of the modern versifications of ancient legendary tales friendship; an ode on seeing a bust of mrs. montague improviso on a young heir's coming of age epitaphs--on his father --his wife --mrs. bell --mrs. salusbury --dr. goldsmith --mr. thrale poemata prefatory observations to the history of rasselas rasselas, prince of abissinia letters. i. to mr. james elphinston ii. to xl. to mrs. thrale xli. to mr. thrale xlii. to liii. to mrs. thrale liv. to mrs. piozzi an essay on the life and genius of samuel johnson, ll.d. when the works of a great writer, who has bequeathed to posterity a lasting legacy, are presented to the world, it is naturally expected that some account of his life should accompany the edition. the reader wishes to know as much as possible of the author. the circumstances that attended him, the features of his private character, his conversation, and the means by which he arose to eminence, become the favourite objects of inquiry. curiosity is excited; and the admirer of his works is eager to know his private opinions, his course of study, the particularities of his conduct, and, above all, whether he pursued the wisdom which he recommends, and practised the virtue which his writings inspire. a principle of gratitude is awakened in every generous mind. for the entertainment and instruction which genius and diligence have provided for the world, men of refined and sensible tempers are ready to pay their tribute of praise, and even to form a posthumous friendship with the author. in reviewing the life of such a writer, there is, besides, a rule of justice to which the public have an undoubted claim. fond admiration and partial friendship should not be suffered to represent his virtues with exaggeration; nor should malignity be allowed, under a specious disguise, to magnify mere defects, the usual failings of human nature, into vice or gross deformity. the lights and shades of the character should be given; and if this be done with a strict regard to truth, a just estimate of dr. johnson will afford a lesson, perhaps, as valuable as the moral doctrine that speaks with energy in every page of his works. the present writer enjoyed the conversation and friendship of that excellent man more than thirty years. he thought it an honour to be so connected, and to this hour he reflects on his loss with regret; but regret, he knows, has secret bribes, by which the judgment may be influenced, and partial affection may be carried beyond the bounds of truth. in the present case, however, nothing needs to be disguised, and exaggerated praise is unnecessary. it is an observation of the younger pliny, in his epistle to his friend tacitus, that history ought never to magnify matters of fact, because worthy actions require nothing but the truth: "nam nec historia debet egredi veritatem, et honeste factis veritas sufficit." this rule, the present biographer promises, shall guide his pen throughout the following narrative. it may be said, the death of dr. johnson kept the public mind in agitation beyond all former example. no literary character ever excited so much attention; and, when the press has teemed with anecdotes, apophthegms, essays, and publications of every kind, what occasion now for a new tract on the same thread-bare subject? the plain truth shall be the answer. the proprietors of johnson's works thought the life, which they prefixed to their former edition, too unwieldy for republication. the prodigious variety of foreign matter, introduced into that performance, seemed to overload the memory of dr. johnson, and, in the account of his own life, to leave him hardly visible. they wished to have a more concise, and, for that reason, perhaps, a more satisfactory account, such as may exhibit a just picture of the man, and keep him the principal figure in the foreground of his own picture. to comply with that request is the design of this essay, which the writer undertakes with a trembling hand. he has no discoveries, no secret anecdotes, no occasional controversy, no sudden flashes of wit and humour, no private conversation, and no new facts, to embellish his work. every thing has been gleaned. dr. johnson said of himself, "i am not uncandid, nor severe: i sometimes say more than i mean, in jest, and people are apt to think me serious[a]." the exercise of that privilege, which is enjoyed by every man in society, has not been allowed to him. his fame has given importance even to trifles; and the zeal of his friends has brought every thing to light. what should be related, and what should not, has been published without distinction: "dicenda tacenda locuti!" every thing that fell from him has been caught with eagerness by his admirers, who, as he says in one of his letters, have acted with the diligence of spies upon his conduct. to some of them the following lines, in mallet's poem on verbal criticism, are not inapplicable: "such that grave bird in northern seas is found. whose name a dutchman only knows to sound; where'er the king of fish moves on before, this humble friend attends from shore to shore; with eye still earnest, and with bill inclined, he picks up what his patron drops behind, with those choice cates his palate to regale, and is the careful tibbald of a whale." after so many essays and volumes of johnsoniana, what remains for the present writer? perhaps, what has not been attempted; a short, yet full, a faithful, yet temperate, history of dr. johnson. samuel johnson was born at lichfield, september , , o. s[b]. his father, michael johnson, was a bookseller in that city; a man of large, athletic make, and violent passions; wrong-headed, positive, and, at times, afflicted with a degree of melancholy, little short of madness. his mother was sister to dr. ford, a practising physician, and father of cornelius ford, generally known by the name of parson ford, the same who is represented near the punch-bowl in hogarth's midnight modern conversation. in the life of fenton, johnson says, that "his abilities, instead of furnishing convivial merriment to the voluptuous and dissolute, might have enabled him to excel among the virtuous and the wise." being chaplain to the earl of chesterfield, he wished to attend that nobleman on his embassy to the hague. colley cibber has recorded the anecdote. "you should go," said the witty peer, "if to your many vices you would add one more." "pray, my lord, what is that?" "hypocrisy, my dear doctor." johnson had a younger brother named nathaniel, who died at the age of twenty-seven or twenty-eight. michael johnson, the father, was chosen, in the year , under bailiff of lichfield; and, in the year , he served the office of the senior bailiff. he had a brother of the name of andrew, who, for some years, kept the ring at smithfield, appropriated to wrestlers and boxers. our author used to say, that he was never thrown or conquered. michael, the father, died december , at the age of seventy-six: his mother at eighty-nine, of a gradual decay, in the year . of the family nothing more can be related worthy of notice. johnson did not delight in talking of his relations. "there is little pleasure," he said to mrs. piozzi, "in relating the anecdotes of beggary." johnson derived from his parents, or from an unwholesome nurse, the distemper called the king's evil. the jacobites at that time believed in the efficacy of the royal touch, and, accordingly, mrs. johnson presented her son, when two years old, before queen anne, who, for the first time, performed that office, and communicated to her young patient all the healing virtue in her power[c]. he was afterwards cut for that scrophulous humour, and the under part of his face was seamed and disfigured by the operation. it is supposed, that this disease deprived him of the sight of his left eye, and also impaired his hearing. at eight years old, he was placed under mr. hawkins, at the free school in lichfield, where he was not remarkable for diligence or regular application. whatever he read, his tenacious memory made his own. in the fields, with his schoolfellows, he talked more to himself than with his companions. in , when he was about sixteen years old, he went on a visit to his cousin cornelius ford, who detained him for some months, and, in the mean time, assisted him in the classics. the general direction for his studies, which he then received, he related to mrs. piozzi. "obtain," says ford, "some general principles of every science: he who can talk only on one subject, or act only in one department, is seldom wanted, and, perhaps, never wished for; while the man of general knowledge can often benefit, and always please." this advice johnson seems to have pursued with a good inclination. his reading was always desultory, seldom resting on any particular author, but rambling from one book to another, and, by hasty snatches, hoarding up a variety of knowledge. it may be proper, in this place, to mention another general rule laid down by ford for johnson's future conduct: "you will make your way the more easily in the world, as you are contented to dispute no man's claim to conversation excellence: they will, therefore, more willingly allow your pretensions as a writer." "but," says mrs. piozzi, "the features of peculiarity, which mark a character to all succeeding generations, are slow in coming to their growth." that ingenious lady adds, with her usual vivacity, "can one, on such an occasion, forbear recollecting the predictions of boileau's father, who said, stroking the head of the young satirist, 'this little man has too much wit, but he will never speak ill of any one.'" on johnson's return from cornelius ford, mr. hunter, then master of the free school at lichfield, refused to receive him again on that foundation. at this distance of time, what his reasons were, it is vain to inquire; but to refuse assistance to a lad of promising genius must be pronounced harsh and illiberal. it did not, however, stop the progress of the young student's education. he was placed at another school, at stourbridge in worcestershire, under the care of mr. wentworth. having gone through the rudiments of classic literature, he returned to his father's house, and was probably intended for the trade of a bookseller. he has been heard to say that he could bind a book. at the end of two years, being then about nineteen, he went to assist the studies of a young gentleman, of the name of corbet, to the university of oxford; and on the st of october, , both were entered of pembroke college; corbet as a gentleman-commoner, and johnson as a commoner. the college tutor, mr. jordan, was a man of no genius; and johnson, it seems, shewed an early contempt of mean abilities, in one or two instances behaving with insolence to that gentleman. of his general conduct at the university there are no particulars that merit attention, except the translation of pope's messiah, which was a college exercise imposed upon him as a task by mr. jordan. corbet left the university in about two years, and johnson's salary ceased. he was, by consequence, straitened in his circumstances; but he still remained at college. mr. jordan, the tutor, went off to a living; and was succeeded by dr. adams, who afterwards became head of the college, and was esteemed through life for his learning, his talents, and his amiable character. johnson grew more regular in his attendance. ethics, theology, and classic literature, were his favourite studies. he discovered, notwithstanding, early symptoms of that wandering disposition of mind, which adhered to him to the end of his life. his reading was by fits and starts, undirected to any particular science. general philology, agreeably to his cousin ford's advice, was the object of his ambition. he received, at that time, an early impression of piety, and a taste for the best authors, ancient and modern. it may, notwithstanding, be questioned whether, except his bible, he ever read a book entirely through. late in life, if any man praised a book in his presence, he was sure to ask, "did you read it through?" if the answer was in the affirmative, he did not seem willing to believe it. he continued at the university, till the want of pecuniary supplies obliged him to quit the place. he obtained, however, the assistance of a friend, and, returning in a short time, was able to complete a residence of three years. the history of his exploits at oxford, he used to say, was best known to dr. taylor and dr. adams. wonders are told of his memory, and, indeed, all who knew him late in life can witness, that he retained that faculty in the greatest vigour. from the university, johnson returned to lichfield. his father died soon after, december, ; and the whole receipt out of his effects, as appeared by a memorandum in the son's handwriting, dated th of june, , was no more than twenty pounds[d]. in this exigence, determined that poverty should neither depress his spirits nor warp his integrity, he became under-master of a grammar school at market bosworth, in leicestershire. that resource, however, did not last long. disgusted by the pride of sir wolstan dixie, the patron of that little seminary, he left the place in discontent, and ever after spoke of it with abhorrence. in , he went on a visit to mr. hector, who had been his schoolfellow, and was then a surgeon at birmingham, lodging at the house of warren, a bookseller. at that place johnson translated a voyage to abyssinia, written by jerome lobo, a portuguese missionary. this was the first literary work from the pen of dr. johnson. his friend, hector, was occasionally his amanuensis. the work was, probably, undertaken at the desire of warren, the bookseller, and was printed at birmingham; but it appears, in the literary magazine, or history of the works of the learned, for march, , that it was published by bettesworth and hitch, paternoster row. it contains a narrative of the endeavours of a company of missionaries to convert the people of abyssinia to the church of rome. in the preface to this work, johnson observes, "that the portuguese traveller, contrary to the general view of his countrymen, has amused his readers with no romantick absurdities, or incredible fictions. he appears, by his modest and unaffected narration, to have described things, as he saw them; to have copied nature from the life; and to have consulted his senses, not his imagination. he meets with no basilisks, that destroy with their eyes; his crocodiles devour their prey, without tears; and his cataracts fall from the rock, without deafening the neighbouring inhabitants. the reader will here find no regions cursed with irremediable barrenness, or blessed with spontaneous fecundity; no perpetual gloom, or unceasing sunshine; nor are the nations, here described, either void of all sense of humanity, or consummate in all private and social virtues; here are no hottentots without religion, polity or articulate language; no chinese perfectly polite, and completely skilled in all sciences; he will discover, what will always be discovered by a diligent and impartial inquirer, that, wherever human nature is to be found, there is a mixture of vice and virtue, a contest of passion and reason; and that the creator doth not appear partial in his distributions, but has balanced, in most countries, their particular inconveniencies, by particular favours."--we have here an early specimen of johnson's manner; the vein of thinking, and the frame of the sentences, are manifestly his: we see the infant hercules. the translation of lobo's narrative has been reprinted lately in a separate volume, with some other tracts of dr. johnson's, and, therefore, forms no part of this edition; but a compendious account of so interesting a work, as father lobo's discovery of the head of the nile, will not, it is imagined, be unacceptable to the reader. "father lobo, the portuguese missionary, embarked, in , in the same fleet with the count vidigueira, who was appointed, by the king of portugal, viceroy of the indies. they arrived at goa; and, in january , father lobo set out on the mission to abyssinia. two of the jesuits, sent on the same commission, were murdered in their attempt to penetrate into that empire. lobo had better success; he surmounted all difficulties, and made his way into the heart of the country. then follows a description of abyssinia, formerly the largest empire of which we have an account in history. it extended from the red sea to the kingdom of congo, and from egypt to the indian sea, containing no less than forty provinces. at the time of lobo's mission, it was not much larger than spain, consisting then but of five kingdoms, of which part was entirely subject to the emperour, and part paid him a tribute, as an acknowledgment. the provinces were inhabited by moors, pagans, jews, and christians. the last was, in lobo's time, the established and reigning religion. the diversity of people and religion is the reason why the kingdom was under different forms of government, with laws and customs extremely various. some of the people neither sowed their lands, nor improved them by any kind of culture, living upon milk and flesh, and, like the arabs, encamping without any settled habitation. in some places they practised no rites of worship, though they believed that, in the regions above, there dwells a being that governs the world. this deity they call, in their language, oul. the christianity, professed by the people in some parts, is so corrupted with superstitions, errours, and heresies, and so mingled with ceremonies borrowed from the jews, that little, besides the name of christianity, is to be found among them. the abyssins cannot properly be said to have either cities or houses; they live in tents or cottages made of straw or clay, very rarely building with stone. their villages, or towns, consist of these huts; yet even of such villages they have but few, because the grandees, the viceroys, and the emperour himself, are always in camp, that they may be prepared, upon the most sudden alarm, to meet every emergence in a country, which is engaged, every year, either in foreign wars or intestine commotions. aethiopia produces very near the same kinds of provision as portugal, though, by the extreme laziness of the inhabitants, in a much less quantity. what the ancients imagined of the torrid zone being a part of the world uninhabitable, is so far from being true, that the climate is very temperate. the blacks have better features than in other countries, and are not without wit and ingenuity. their apprehension is quick, and their judgment sound. there are, in this climate, two harvests in the year; one in winter, which lasts through the months of july, august, and september; the other in the spring. they have, in the greatest plenty, raisins peaches pomegranates, sugar-canes, and some figs. most of these are ripe about lent, which the abyssins keep with great strictness. the animals of the country are the lion, the elephant, the rhinoceros, the unicorn, horses, mules, oxen, and cows without number. they have a very particular custom, which obliges every man, that has a thousand cows, to save every year one day's milk of all his herd, and make a bath with it for his relations. this they do so many days in each year, as they have thousands of cattle; so that, to express how rich a man is, they tell you, 'he bathes so many times.' "of the river nile, which has furnished so much controversy, we have a full and clear description. it is called, by the natives, abavi, the father of water. it rises in sacala, a province of the kingdom of goiama, the most fertile and agreeable part of the abyssinian dominions. on the eastern side of the country, on the declivity of a mountain, whose descent is so easy, that it seems a beautiful plain, is that source of the nile, which has been sought after, at so much expense and labour. this spring, or rather these two springs, are two holes, each about two feet diameter, a stone's cast distant from each other. one of them is about five feet and a half in depth. lobo was not able to sink his plummet lower, perhaps, because it was stopped by roots, the whole place being full of trees. a line of ten feet did not reach the bottom of the other. these springs are supposed, by the abyssins, to be the vents of a great subterraneous lake. at a small distance to the south, is a village called guix, through which you ascend to the top of the mountain, where there is a little hill, which the idolatrous agaci hold in great veneration. their priest calls them together to this place once a year; and every one sacrifices a cow, or more, according to the different degrees of wealth and devotion. hence we have sufficient proof, that these nations always paid adoration to the deity of this famous river. "as to the course of the nile, its waters, after their first rise, run towards the east, about the length of a musket-shot; then, turning northward, continue hidden in the grass and weeds for about a quarter of a league, when they reappear amongst a quantity of rocks. the nile, from its source, proceeds with so inconsiderable a current that it is in danger of being dried up by the hot season; but soon receiving an increase from the gemma, the keltu, the bransa, and the other smaller rivers, it expands to such a breadth in the plains of boad, which is not above three days' journey from its source, that a musket-ball will scarcely fly from one bank to the other. here it begins to run northward, winding, however, a little to the east, for the space of nine or ten leagues, and then enters the so-much-talked-of lake of dambia, flowing with such violent rapidity, that its waters may be distinguished through the whole passage, which is no less than six leagues. here begins the greatness of the nile. fifteen miles farther, in the land of alata, it rushes precipitately from the top of a high rock, and forms one of the most beautiful waterfalls in the world. lobo says, he passed under it without being wet, and resting himself, for the sake of the coolness, was charmed with a thousand delightful rainbows, which the sunbeams painted on the water, in all their shining and lively colours[e]. the fall of this mighty stream, from so great a height, makes a noise that may be heard at a considerable distance: but it was not found, that the neighbouring inhabitants were deaf. after the cataract, the nile collects its scattered stream among the rocks, which are so near each other, that, in lobo's time, a bridge of beams, on which the whole imperial army passed, was laid over them. sultan sequed has since built a stone bridge of one arch, in the same place, for which purpose he procured masons from india. here the river alters its course, and passes through various kingdoms, such as amhara, olaca, choaa, damot, and the kingdom of goiama, and, after various windings, returns within a short day's journey of its spring. to pursue it through all its mazes, and accompany it round the kingdom of goiama, is a journey of twenty-nine days. from abyssinia, the river passes into the countries of fazulo and ombarca, two vast regions little known, inhabited by nations entirely different from the abyssins. their hair, like that of the other blacks in those regions, is short and curled. in the year , rassela christos, lieutenant-general to sultan sequed, entered those kingdoms in a hostile manner; but, not being able to get intelligence, returned without attempting any thing. as the empire of abyssinia terminates at these descents, lobo followed the course of the nile no farther, leaving it to rage over barbarous kingdoms, and convey wealth and plenty into aegypt, which owes to the annual inundations of this river its envied fertility[f]. lobo knows nothing of the nile in the rest of its passage, except that it receives great increase from many other rivers, has several cataracts like that already described, and that few fish are to be found in it: that scarcity is to be attributed to the river-horse, and the crocodile, which destroy the weaker inhabitants of the river. something, likewise, must be imputed to the cataracts, where fish cannot fall without being killed. lobo adds, that neither he, nor any with whom he conversed about the crocodile, ever saw him weep; and, therefore, all that hath been said about his tears, must be ranked among the fables, invented for the amusement of children. "as to the causes of the inundations of the nile, lobo observes, that many an idle hypothesis has been framed. some theorists ascribe it to the high winds, that stop the current, and force the water above its banks. others pretend a subterraneous communication between the ocean and the nile, and that the sea, when violently agitated, swells the river. many are of opinion, that this mighty flood proceeds from the melting of the snow on the mountains of aethiopia; but so much snow and such prodigious heat are never met with in the same region. lobo never saw snow in abyssinia, except on mount semen, in the kingdom of tigre, very remote from the nile; and on namara, which is, indeed, nor far distant, but where there never falls snow enough to wet, when dissolved, the foot of the mountain. to the immense labours of the portuguese mankind is indebted for the knowledge of the real cause of these inundations, so great and so regular. by them we are informed, that abyssinia, where the nile rises, is full of mountains, and, in its natural situation, is much higher than aegypt; that in the winter, from june to september, no day is without rain; that the nile receives in its course, all the rivers, brooks, and torrents, that fall from those mountains, and, by necessary consequence, swelling above its banks, fills the plains of aegypt with inundations, which come regularly about the month of july, or three weeks after the beginning of the rainy season in aethiopia. the different degrees of this flood are such certain indications of the fruitfulness or sterility of the ensuing year, that it is publickly proclaimed at cairo how much the water hath gained during the night." such is the account of the nile and its inundations, which, it is hoped, will not be deemed an improper or tedious digression, especially as the whole is an extract from johnson's translation. he is, all the time, the actor in the scene, and, in his own words, relates the story. having finished this work, he returned in february, , to his native city; and, in the month of august following, published proposals for printing, by subscription, the latin poems of politian, with the history of latin poetry, from the aera of petrarch to the time of politian; and also the life of politian, to be added by the editor, samuel johnson. the book to be printed in thirty octavo sheets, price five shillings. it is to be regretted that this project failed for want of encouragement. johnson, it seems, differed from boileau, voltaire, and d'alembert, who had taken upon them to proscribe all modern efforts to write with elegance in a dead language. for a decision pronounced in so high a tone, no good reason can be assigned. the interests of learning require, that the diction of greece and rome should be cultivated with care; and he who can write a language with correctness, will be most likely to understand its idiom, its grammar, and its peculiar graces of style. what man of taste would willingly forego the pleasure of reading vida, fracastorius, sannazaro, strada, and others, down to the late elegant productions of bishop lowth? the history which johnson proposed to himself would, beyond all question, have been a valuable addition to the history of letters; but his project failed. his next expedient was to offer his assistance to cave, the original projector of the gentleman's magazine. for this purpose he sent his proposals in a letter, offering, on reasonable terms, occasionally to fill some pages with poems and inscriptions, never printed before; with fugitive pieces that deserved to be revived, and critical remarks on authors, ancient and modern. cave agreed to retain him as a correspondent and contributor to the magazine. what the conditions were cannot now be known; but, certainly, they were not sufficient to hinder johnson from casting his eyes about him in quest of other employment. accordingly, in , he made overtures to the reverend mr. budworth, master of a grammar school at brerewood, in staffordshire, to become his assistant. this proposition did not succeed. mr. budworth apprehended, that the involuntary motions, to which johnson's nerves were subject, might make him an object of ridicule with his scholars, and, by consequence, lessen their respect for their master. another mode of advancing himself presented itself about this time. mrs. porter, the widow of a mercer in birmingham, admired his talents. it is said, that she had about eight hundred pounds; and that sum, to a person in johnson's circumstances, was an affluent fortune. a marriage took place; and, to turn his wife's money to the best advantage, he projected the scheme of an academy for education. gilbert walmsley, at that time, registrar of the ecclesiastical court of the bishop of lichfield, was distinguished by his erudition, and the politeness of his manners. he was the friend of johnson, and, by his weight and influence, endeavoured to promote his interest. the celebrated garrick, whose father, captain garrick, lived at lichfield, was placed in the new seminary of education by that gentleman's advice.--garrick was then about eighteen years old. an accession of seven or eight pupils was the most that could be obtained, though notice was given by a public advertisement[g], that at edial, near lichfield, in staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded and taught the latin and greek languages, by samuel johnson. the undertaking proved abortive. johnson, having now abandoned all hopes of promoting his fortune in the country, determined to become an adventurer in the world at large. his young pupil, garrick, had formed the same resolution; and, accordingly, in march, , they arrived in london together. two such candidates for fame, perhaps never, before that day, entered the metropolis together. their stock of money was soon exhausted. in his visionary project of an academy, johnson had probably wasted his wife's substance; and garrick's father had little more than his half-pay.--the two fellow-travellers had the world before them, and each was to choose his road to fortune and to fame. they brought with them genius, and powers of mind, peculiarly formed by nature for the different vocations to which each of them felt himself inclined. they acted from the impulse of young minds, even then meditating great things, and with courage anticipating success. their friend, mr. walmsley, by a letter to the reverend mr. colson, who, it seems, was a great mathematician, exerted his good offices in their favour. he gave notice of their intended journey: "davy garrick," he said, "will be with you next week; and johnson, to try his fate with a tragedy, and to get himself employed in some translation, either from the latin or french. johnson is a very good scholar and a poet, and, i have great hopes, will turn out a fine tragedy-writer. if it should be in your way, i doubt not but you will be ready to recommend and assist your countrymen." of mr. walmsley's merit, and the excellence of his character, johnson has left a beautiful testimonial at the end of the life of edmund smith. it is reasonable to conclude, that a mathematician, absorbed in abstract speculations, was not able to find a sphere of action for two men, who were to be the architects of their own fortune. in three or four years afterwards, garrick came forth with talents that astonished the public. he began his career at goodman's fields, and there, "monstratus fatis vespasianus!" he chose a lucrative profession, and, consequently, soon emerged from all his difficulties. johnson was left to toil in the humble walks of literature. a tragedy, as appears by walmsley's letter, was the whole of his stock. this, most probably, was irene; but, if then finished, it was doomed to wait for a more happy period. it was offered to fleetwood, and rejected. johnson looked round him for employment. having, while he remained in the country, corresponded with cave, under a feigned name, he now thought it time to make himself known to a man, whom he considered as a patron of literature. cave had announced, by public advertisement, a prize of fifty pounds for the best poem on life, death, judgment, heaven, and hell; and this circumstance diffused an idea of his liberality. johnson became connected with him in business, and in a close and intimate acquaintance. of cave's character it is unnecessary to say any thing in this place, as johnson was afterwards the biographer of his first and most useful patron. to be engaged in the translation of some important book was still the object which johnson had in view. for this purpose, he proposed to give the history of the council of trent, with copious notes, then lately added to a french edition. twelve sheets of this work were printed, for which johnson received forty-nine pounds, as appears by his receipt, in the possession of mr. nichols, the compiler of that entertaining and useful work, the gentleman's magazine. johnson's translation was never completed: a like design was offered to the public, under the patronage of dr. zachary pearce; and, by that contention, both attempts were frustrated. johnson had been commended by pope, for the translation of the messiah into latin verse; but he knew no approach to so eminent a man. with one, however, who was connected with pope, he became acquainted at st. john's gate; and that person was no other than the well-known richard savage, whose life was afterwards written by johnson with great elegance, and a depth of moral reflection. savage was a man of considerable talents. his address, his various accomplishments, and, above all, the peculiarity of his misfortunes, recommended him to johnson's notice. they became united in the closest intimacy. both had great parts, and they were equally under the pressure of want. sympathy joined them in a league of friendship. johnson has been often heard to relate, that he and savage walked round grosvenor square till four in the morning; in the course of their conversation reforming the world, dethroning princes, establishing new forms of government, and giving laws to the several states of europe, till, fatigued at length with their legislative office, they began to feel the want of refreshment, but could not muster up more than four-pence-halfpenny. savage, it is true, had many vices; but vice could never strike its roots in a mind like johnson's, seasoned early with religion, and the principles of moral rectitude. his first prayer was composed in the year . he had not, at that time, renounced the use of wine; and, no doubt, occasionally enjoyed his friend and his bottle. the love of late hours, which followed him through life, was, perhaps, originally contracted in company with savage. however that may be, their connexion was not of long duration. in the year , savage was reduced to the last distress. mr. pope, in a letter to him, expressed his concern for "the miserable withdrawing of his pension after the death of the queen;" and gave him hopes that, "in a short time, he should find himself supplied with a competence, without any dependance on those little creatures, whom we are pleased to call the great." the scheme proposed to him was, that he should retire to swansea in wales, and receive an allowance of fifty pounds a year, to be raised by subscription: pope was to pay twenty pounds. this plan, though finally established, took more than a year before it was carried into execution. in the mean time, the intended retreat of savage called to johnson's mind the third satire of juvenal, in which that poet takes leave of a friend, who was withdrawing himself from all the vices of rome. struck with this idea, he wrote that well-known poem, called london. the first lines manifestly point to savage. "though grief and fondness in my breast rebel, when injur'd thales bids the town farewell; yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend; i praise the hermit, but regret the friend: resolv'd, at length, from vice and london far, to breathe, in distant fields, a purer air; and, fix'd on cambria's solitary shore, give to st. david one true briton more." johnson, at that time, lodged at greenwich. he there fixes the scene, and takes leave of his friend; who, he says in his life, parted from him with tears in his eyes. the poem, when finished, was offered to cave. it happened, however, that the late mr. dodsley was the purchaser, at the price of ten guineas. it was published in ; and pope, we are told, said, "the author, whoever he is, will not be long concealed;" alluding to the passage in terence, "ubi, ubi est, diu celari non potest." notwithstanding that prediction, it does not appear that, besides the copy-money, any advantage accrued to the author of a poem, written with the elegance and energy of pope. johnson, in august, , went, with all the fame of his poetry, to offer himself a candidate for the mastership of the school at appleby, in leicestershire. the statutes of the place required, that the person chosen should be a master of arts. to remove this objection, the then lord gower was induced to write to a friend, in order to obtain for johnson a master's degree in the university of dublin, by the recommendation of dr. swift. the letter was printed in one of the magazines, and was as follows: sir,--mr. samuel johnson, author of london, a satire, and some other poetical pieces, is a native of this county, and much respected by some worthy gentlemen in the neighbourhood, who are trustees of a charity-school, now vacant; the certain salary of which is sixty pounds per year, of which they are desirous to make him master; but, unfortunately, he is not capable of receiving their bounty, which would make him happy for life, by not being a master of arts, which, by the statutes of the school, the master of it must be. now these gentlemen do me the honour to think, that i have interest enough in you, to prevail upon you to write to dean swift, to persuade the university of dublin to send a diploma to me, constituting this poor man master of arts in their university. they highly extol the man's learning and probity; and will not be persuaded, that the university will make any difficulty of conferring such a favour upon a stranger, if he is recommended by the dean. they say, he is not afraid of the strictest examination, though he is of so long a journey; and yet he will venture it, if the dean thinks it necessary, choosing rather to die upon the road, than to be starved to death in translating for booksellers, which has been his only subsistence for some time past. i fear there is more difficulty in this affair than these good-natured gentlemen apprehend, especially as their election cannot be delayed longer than the eleventh of next month. if you see this matter in the same light that it appears to me, i hope you will burn this, and pardon me for giving you so much trouble about an impracticable thing; but, if you think there is a probability of obtaining the favour asked, i am sure your humanity and propensity to relieve merit, in distress, will incline you to serve the poor man, without my adding any more to the trouble i have already given you, than assuring you, that i am, with great truth, sir, your faithful humble servant, trentham, aug. st. gower. this scheme miscarried. there is reason to think, that swift declined to meddle in the business; and, to that circumstance, johnson's known dislike of swift has been often imputed. it is mortifying to pursue a man of merit through all his difficulties; and yet this narrative must be, through many following years, the history of genius and virtue struggling with adversity. having lost the school at appleby, johnson was thrown back on the metropolis. bred to no profession, without relations, friends, or interest, he was condemned to drudgery in the service of cave, his only patron. in november, , was published a translation of crousaz's examen of pope's essay on man; containing a succinct view of the system of the fatalists, and a confutation of their opinions; with an illustration of the doctrine of free will; and an enquiry, what view mr. pope might have in touching upon the leibnitzian philosophy, and fatalism: by mr. crousaz, professor of philosophy and mathematics at lausanne. this translation has been generally thought a production of johnson's pen; but it is now known, that mrs. elizabeth carter has acknowledged it to be one of her early performances. it is certain, however, that johnson was eager to promote the publication. he considered the foreign philosopher as a man zealous in the cause of religion; and with him he was willing to join against the system of the fatalists, and the doctrine of leibnitz. it is well known, that warburton wrote a vindication of mr. pope; but there is reason to think, that johnson conceived an early prejudice against the essay on man; and what once took root in a mind like his, was not easily eradicated. his letter to cave on this subject is still extant, and may well justify sir john hawkins, who inferred that johnson was the translator of crousaz. the conclusion of the letter is remarkable: "i am yours, impransus." if by that latin word was meant, that he had not dined, because he wanted the means, who can read it, even at this hour, without an aching heart? with a mind naturally vigorous, and quickened by necessity, johnson formed a multiplicity of projects; but most of them proved abortive. a number of small tracts issued from his pen with wonderful rapidity; such as marmor norfolciense; or an essay on an ancient prophetical inscription, in monkish rhyme, discovered at lynn, in norfolk. by probus britannicus. this was a pamphlet against sir robert walpole. according to sir john hawkins, a warrant was issued to apprehend the author, who retired, with his wife, to an obscure lodging near lambeth marsh, and there eluded the search of the messengers. but this story has no foundation in truth. johnson was never known to mention such an incident in his life; and mr. steele, late of the treasury, caused diligent search to be made at the proper offices, and no trace of such a proceeding could be found. in the same year ( ) the lord chamberlain prohibited the representation of a tragedy, called gustavus vasa, by henry brooke. under the mask of irony, johnson published, a vindication of the licenser from the malicious and scandalous aspersions of mr. brooke. of these two pieces, sir john hawkins says, "they have neither learning nor wit; nor a single ray of that genius, which has since blazed forth;" but, as they have been lately reprinted, the reader, who wishes to gratify his curiosity, is referred to the fourteenth volume of johnson's works, published by stockdale[h]. the lives of boerhaave, blake, barratier, father paul, and others, were, about that time, printed in the gentleman's magazine. the subscription of fifty pounds a year for savage was completed; and, in july , johnson parted with the companion of his midnight hours, never to see him more. the separation was, perhaps, an advantage to him, who wanted to make a right use of his time, and even then beheld, with self-reproach, the waste occasioned by dissipation. his abstinence from wine and strong liquors began soon after the departure of savage. what habits he contracted in the course of that acquaintance cannot now be known. the ambition of excelling in conversation, and that pride of victory, which, at times, disgraced a man of johnson's genius, were, perhaps, native blemishes. a fierce spirit of independence, even in the midst of poverty, may be seen in savage; and, if not thence transfused by johnson into his own manners, it may, at least, be supposed to have gained strength from the example before him. during that connexion, there was, if we believe sir john hawkins, a short separation between our author and his wife; but a reconciliation soon took place. johnson loved her, and showed his affection in various modes of gallantry, which garrick used to render ridiculous by his mimicry. the affectation of soft and fashionable airs did not become an unwieldy figure: his admiration was received by the wife with the flutter of an antiquated coquette; and both, it is well known, furnished matter for the lively genius of garrick. it is a mortifying reflection, that johnson, with a store of learning and extraordinary talents, was not able, at the age of thirty, to force his way to the favour of the public: "slow rises worth by poverty depress'd." "he was still," as he says himself, "to provide for the day that was passing over him." he saw cave involved in a state of warfare with the numerous competitors, at that time, struggling with the gentleman's magazine; and gratitude for such supplies as johnson received, dictated a latin ode on the subject of that contention. the first lines, "urbane, nullis fesse laboribus, urbane, nullis victe calumniis," put one in mind of casimir's ode to pope urban: "urbane, regum maxime, maxime urbane vatum."-- the polish poet was, probably, at that time, in the hands of a man, who had meditated the history of the latin poets. guthrie, the historian, had, from july, , composed the parliamentary speeches for the magazine; but, from the beginning of the session, which opened on the th of november, , johnson succeeded to that department, and continued it from that time to the debate on spirituous liquors, which happened in the house of lords, in february, - . the eloquence, the force of argument, and the splendor of language, displayed in the several speeches, are well known, and universally admired. that johnson was the author of the debates, during that period, was not generally known; but the secret transpired several years afterwards, and was avowed, by himself, on the following occasion. mr. wedderburne, now lord loughborough[i], dr. johnson, dr. francis, the translator of horace, the present writer, and others, dined with the late mr. foote. an important debate, towards the end of sir robert walpole's administration, being mentioned, dr. francis observed, "that mr. pitt's speech, on that occasion, was the best he had ever read." he added, "that he had employed eight years of his life in the study of demosthenes, and finished a translation of that celebrated orator, with all the decorations of style and language within the reach of his capacity; but he had met with nothing equal to the speech above mentioned." many of the company remembered the debate, and some passages were cited, with the approbation and applause of all present. during the ardour of conversation, johnson remained silent. as soon as the warmth of praise subsided, he opened with these words: "that speech i wrote in a garret in exeter street." the company was struck with astonishment. after staring at each other in silent amaze, dr. francis asked, "how that speech could be written by him?" "sir," said johnson, "i wrote it in exeter street. i never had been in the gallery of the house of commons but once. cave had interest with the door-keepers. he, and the persons employed under him, gained admittance; they brought away the subject of discussion, the names of the speakers, the side they took, and the order in which they rose, together with notes of the arguments advanced in the course of the debate. the whole was afterwards communicated to me, and i composed the speeches in the form which they now have in the parliamentary debates." to this discovery, dr. francis made answer: "then, sir, you have exceeded demosthenes himself; for to say, that you have exceeded francis's demosthenes, would be saying nothing." the rest of the company bestowed lavish encomiums on johnson: one, in particular, praised his impartiality; observing, that he dealt out reason and eloquence, with an equal hand to both parties. "that is not quite true," said johnson; "i saved appearances tolerably well; but i took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it." the sale of the magazine was greatly increased by the parliamentary debates, which were continued by johnson till the month of march, - . from that time the magazine was conducted by dr. hawkesworth. in - , osborne, the bookseller, who kept a shop in gray's inn, purchased the earl of oxford's library, at the price of thirteen thousand pounds. he projected a catalogue in five octavo volumes, at five shillings each. johnson was employed in that painful drudgery. he was, likewise, to collect all such small tracts as were, in any degree, worth preserving, in order to reprint and publish the whole in a collection, called the harleian miscellany. the catalogue was completed; and the miscellany, in , was published in eight quarto volumes. in this business johnson was a day-labourer for immediate subsistence, not unlike gustavus vasa, working in the mines of dalecarlia. what wilcox, a bookseller of eminence in the strand, said to johnson, on his first arrival in town, was now almost confirmed. he lent our author five guineas, and then asked him, "how do you mean to earn your livelihood in this town?" "by my literary labours," was the answer. wilcox, staring at him, shook his head: "by your literary labours! you had better buy a porter's knot." johnson used to tell this anecdote to mr. nichols: but he said, "wilcox was one of my best friends, and he meant well." in fact, johnson, while employed in gray's inn, may be said to have carried a porter's knot. he paused occasionally to peruse the book that came to his hand. osborne thought that such curiosity tended to nothing but delay, and objected to it with all the pride and insolence of a man who knew that he paid daily wages. in the dispute that of course ensued, osborne, with that roughness which was natural to him, enforced his argument by giving the lie. johnson seized a folio, and knocked the bookseller down. this story has been related as an instance of johnson's ferocity; but merit cannot always take the spurns of the unworthy with a patient spirit[k]. that the history of an author must be found in his works is, in general, a true observation; and was never more apparent than in the present narrative. every aera of johnson's life is fixed by his writings. in , he published the life of savage; and then projected a new edition of shakespeare. as a prelude to that design, he published, in , miscellaneous observations on the tragedy of macbeth, with remarks on sir thomas hanmer's edition; to which were prefixed, proposals for a new edition of shakespeare, with a specimen. of this pamphlet, warburton, in the preface to shakespeare, has given his opinion: "as to all those things, which have been published under the title of essays, remarks, observations, &c. on shakespeare, if you except some critical notes on macbeth, given as a specimen of a projected edition, and written, as appears, by a man of parts and genius, the rest are absolutely below a serious notice." but the attention of the public was not excited; there was no friend to promote a subscription; and the project died to revive at a future day. a new undertaking, however, was soon after proposed; namely, an english dictionary upon an enlarged plan. several of the most opulent booksellers had meditated a work of this kind; and the agreement was soon adjusted between the parties. emboldened by this connexion, johnson thought of a better habitation than he had hitherto known. he had lodged with his wife in courts and alleys about the strand; but now, for the purpose of carrying on his arduous undertaking, and to be nearer his printer and friend, mr. strahan, he ventured to take a house in gough square, fleet street. he was told, that the earl of chesterfield was a friend to his undertaking; and, in consequence of that intelligence, he published, in , the plan of a dictionary of the english language, addressed to the right honourable philip dormer, earl of chesterfield, one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state. mr. whitehead, afterwards poet laureate, undertook to convey the manuscript to his lordship: the consequence was an invitation from lord chesterfield to the author. a stronger contrast of characters could not be brought together; the nobleman, celebrated for his wit, and all the graces of polite behaviour; the author, conscious of his own merit, towering in idea above all competition, versed in scholastic logic, but a stranger to the arts of polite conversation, uncouth, vehement, and vociferous. the coalition was too unnatural. johnson expected a maecenas, and was disappointed. no patronage, no assistance followed. visits were repeated; but the reception was not cordial. johnson, one day, was left a full hour, waiting in an antichamber, till a gentleman should retire, and leave his lordship at leisure. this was the famous colley cibber. johnson saw him go, and, fired with indignation, rushed out of the house[l]. what lord chesterfield thought of his visitor may be seen in a passage in one of that nobleman's letters to his son[m]. "there is a man, whose moral character, deep learning, and superior parts, i acknowledge, admire, and respect; but whom it is so impossible for me to love, that i am almost in a fever, whenever i am in his company. his figure (without being deformed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule the common structure of the human body. his legs and arms are never in the position which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to be in, but constantly employed in committing acts of hostility upon the graces. he throws any where, but down his throat, whatever he means to drink; and mangles what he means to carve. inattentive to all the regards of social life, he mistimes and misplaces every thing. he disputes with heat indiscriminately, mindless of the rank, character, and situation of those with whom he disputes. absolutely ignorant of the several gradations of familiarity and respect, he is exactly the same to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and, therefore, by a necessary consequence, is absurd to two of the three. is it possible to love such a man? no. the utmost i can do for him is, to consider him a respectable hottentot." such was the idea entertained by lord chesterfield. after the incident of colley cibber, johnson never repeated his visits. in his high and decisive tone, he has been often heard to say, "lord chesterfield is a wit among lords, and a lord among wits." in the course of the year , garrick, in conjunction with lacy, became patentee of drury lane playhouse. for the opening of the theatre, at the usual time, johnson wrote, for his friend, the well-known prologue, which, to say no more of it, may, at least, be placed on a level with pope's to the tragedy of cato. the playhouse being now under garrick's direction, johnson thought the opportunity fair to think of his tragedy of irene, which was his whole stock on his first arrival in town, in the year . that play was, accordingly, put into rehearsal in january, . as a precursor to prepare the way, and to awaken the public attention, the vanity of human wishes, a poem in imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal, by the author of london, was published in the same month. in the gentleman's magazine, for february, , we find that the tragedy of irene was acted at drury lane, on monday, february the th, and, from that time, without interruption, to monday, february the th, being in all thirteen nights. since that time, it has not been exhibited on any stage. irene may be added to some other plays in our language, which have lost their place in the theatre, but continue to please in the closet. during the representation of this piece, johnson attended every night behind the scenes. conceiving that his character, as an author, required some ornament for his person, he chose, upon that occasion, to decorate himself with a handsome waistcoat, and a gold-laced hat. the late mr. topham beauclerc, who had a great deal of that humour, which pleases the more for seeming undesigned, used to give a pleasant description of this green-room finery, as related by the author himself; "but," said johnson, with great gravity, "i soon laid aside my gold-laced hat, lest it should make me proud." the amount of the three benefit nights for the tragedy of irene, it is to be feared, was not very considerable, as the profit, that stimulating motive, never invited the author to another dramatic attempt. some years afterwards, when the present writer was intimate with garrick, and knew johnson to be in distress, he asked the manager, why he did not produce another tragedy for his lichfield friend? garrick's answer was remarkable: "when johnson writes tragedy, 'declamation roars, and passion sleeps:' when shakespeare wrote, he dipped his pen in his own heart." there may, perhaps, be a degree of sameness in this regular way of tracing an author from one work to another, and the reader may feel the effect of a tedious monotony; but, in the life of johnson, there are no other landmarks. he was now forty years old, and had mixed but little with the world. he followed no profession, transacted no business, and was a stranger to what is called a town life. we are now arrived at the brightest period, he had hitherto known. his name broke out upon mankind with a degree of lustre that promised a triumph over all his difficulties. the life of savage was admired, as a beautiful and instructive piece of biography. the two imitations of juvenal were thought to rival even the excellence of pope; and the tragedy of irene, though uninteresting on the stage, was universally admired in the closet, for the propriety of the sentiments, the richness of the language, and the general harmony of the whole composition. his fame was widely diffused; and he had made his agreement with the booksellers for his english dictionary at the sum of fifteen hundred guineas; a part of which was to be, from time to time, advanced, in proportion to the progress of the work. this was a certain fund for his support, without being obliged to write fugitive pieces for the petty supplies of the day. accordingly we find that, in , he established a club, consisting of ten in number, at horseman's, in ivy lane, on every tuesday evening. this is the first scene of social life to which johnson can be traced, out of his own house. the members of this little society were, samuel johnson; dr. salter, father of the late master of the charter house; dr. hawkesworth; mr. ryland, a merchant; mr. payne, a bookseller, in paternoster row; mr. samuel dyer, a learned young man; dr. william m'ghie, a scotch physician; dr. edmund barker, a young physician; dr. bathurst, another young physician; and sir john hawkins. this list is given by sir john, as it should seem, with no other view than to draw a spiteful and malevolent character of almost every one of them. mr. dyer, whom sir john says he loved with the affection of a brother, meets with the harshest treatment, because it was his maxim, that "to live in peace with mankind, and in a temper to do good offices, was the most essential part of our duty." that notion of moral goodness gave umbrage to sir john hawkins, and drew down upon the memory of his friend, the bitterest imputations. mr. dyer, however, was admired and loved through life. he was a man of literature. johnson loved to enter with him into a discussion of metaphysical, moral, and critical subjects; in those conflicts, exercising his talents, and, according to his custom, always contending for victory. dr. bathurst was the person on whom johnson fixed his affection. he hardly ever spoke of him without tears in his eyes. it was from him, who was a native of jamaica, that johnson received into his service frank[n], the black servant, whom, on account of his master, he valued to the end of his life. at the time of instituting the club in ivy lane, johnson had projected the rambler. the title was most probably suggested by the wanderer; a poem which he mentions, with the warmest praise, in the life of savage. with the same spirit of independence with which he wished to live, it was now his pride to write. he communicated his plan to none of his friends: he desired no assistance, relying entirely on his own fund, and the protection of the divine being, which he implored in a solemn form of prayer, composed by himself for the occasion. having formed a resolution to undertake a work that might be of use and honour to his country, he thought, with milton, that this was not to be obtained "but by devout prayer to that eternal spirit, that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, and send out his seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar, to touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases." having invoked the special protection of heaven, and by that act of piety fortified his mind, he began the great work of the rambler. the first number was published on tuesday, march the th, ; and from that time was continued regularly every tuesday and saturday, for the space of two years, when it finally closed on saturday, march , . as it began with motives of piety, so it appears that the same religious spirit glowed, with unabating ardour, to the last. his conclusion is: "the essays professedly serious, if i have been able to execute my own intentions, will be found exactly conformable to the precepts of christianity, without any accommodation to the licentiousness and levity of the present age. i, therefore, look back on this part of my work with pleasure, which no man shall diminish or augment. i shall never envy the honours which wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if i can be numbered among the writers who have given ardour to virtue, and confidence to truth." the whole number of essays amounted to two hundred and eight. addison's, in the spectator, are more in number, but not half in point of quantity: addison was not bound to publish on stated days; he could watch the ebb and flow of his genius, and send his paper to the press, when his own taste was satisfied. johnson's case was very different. he wrote singly and alone. in the whole progress of the work he did not receive more than ten essays. this was a scanty contribution. for the rest, the author has described his situation: "he that condemns himself to compose on a stated day, will often bring to his task an attention dissipated, a memory embarrassed, an imagination overwhelmed, a mind distracted with anxieties, a body languishing with disease: he will labour on a barren topick, till it is too late to change it; or, in the ardour of invention, diffuse his thoughts into wild exuberance, which the pressing hour of publication cannot suffer judgment to examine or reduce." of this excellent production, the number sold on each day did not amount to five hundred: of course, the bookseller, who paid the author four guineas a week, did not carry on a successful trade. his generosity and perseverance deserve to be commended; and happily, when the collection appeared in volumes, were amply rewarded. johnson lived to see his labours nourish in a tenth edition. his posterity, as an ingenious french writer has said, on a similar occasion, began in his life-time. in the beginning of , soon after the rambler was set on foot, johnson was induced, by the arts of a vile impostor, to lend his assistance, during a temporary delusion, to a fraud not to be paralleled in the annals of literature[o]. one lauder, a native of scotland, who had been a teacher in the university of edinburgh, had conceived a mortal antipathy to the name and character of milton. his reason was, because the prayer of pamela, in sir philip sidney's arcadia, was, as he supposed, maliciously inserted by the great poet in an edition of the eikôn basilike, in order to fix an imputation of impiety on the memory of the murdered king. fired with resentment, and willing to reap the profits of a gross imposition, this man collected, from several latin poets, such as masenius the jesuit, staphorstius, a dutch divine, beza, and others, all such passages as bore any kind of resemblance to different places in the paradise lost; and these he published, from time to time, in the gentleman's magazine, with occasional interpolations of lines, which he himself translated from milton. the public credulity swallowed all with eagerness; and milton was supposed to be guilty of plagiarism from inferior modern writers. the fraud succeeded so well, that lauder collected the whole into a volume, and advertised it under the title of an essay on milton's use and imitation of the moderns, in his paradise lost; dedicated to the universities of oxford and cambridge. while the book was in the press, the proof-sheets were shown to johnson, at the ivy lane club, by payne, the bookseller, who was one of the members. no man in that society was in possession of the authors from whom lauder professed to make his extracts. the charge was believed, and the contriver of it found his way to johnson, who is represented, by sir john hawkins, not indeed as an accomplice in the fraud, but, through motives of malignity to milton, delighting in the detection, and exulting that the poet's reputation would suffer by the discovery. more malice to a deceased friend cannot well be imagined. hawkins adds, "that he wished well to the argument must be inferred from the preface, which, indubitably, was written by him." the preface, it is well known, was written by johnson, and for that reason is inserted in this edition. but if johnson approved of the argument, it was no longer than while he believed it founded in truth. let us advert to his own words in that very preface. "among the inquiries to which the ardour of criticism has naturally given occasion, none is more obscure in itself, or more worthy of rational curiosity, than a retrospection of the progress of this mighty genius in the construction of his work; a view of the fabrick gradually rising, perhaps from small beginnings, till its foundation rests in the centre, and its turrets sparkle in the skies; to trace back the structure, through all its varieties, to the simplicity of the first plan; to find what was projected, whence the scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what assistance it was executed, and from what stores the materials were collected; whether its founder dug them from the quarries of nature, or demolished other buildings to embellish his own." these were the motives that induced johnson to assist lauder with a preface; and are not these the motives of a critic and a scholar? what reader of taste, what man of real knowledge, would not think his time well employed in an enquiry so curious, so interesting, and instructive? if lauder's facts were really true, who would not be glad, without the smallest tincture of malevolence, to receive real information? it is painful to be thus obliged to vindicate a man who, in his heart, towered above the petty arts of fraud and imposition, against an injudicious biographer, who undertook to be his editor, and the protector of his memory. another writer, dr. towers, in an essay on the life and character of dr. johnson, seems to countenance this calumny. he says: "it can hardly be doubted, but that johnson's aversion to milton's politics was the cause of that alacrity, with which he joined with lauder in his infamous attack on our great epic poet, and which induced him to assist in that transaction." these words would seem to describe an accomplice, were they not immediately followed by an express declaration, that johnson was "unacquainted with the imposture." dr. towers adds, "it seems to have been, by way of making some compensation to the memory of milton, for the share he had in the attack of lauder, that johnson wrote the prologue, spoken by garrick, at drury lane theatre, , on the performance of the masque of comus, for the benefit of milton's granddaughter." dr. towers is not free from prejudice; but, as shakespeare has it, "he begets a temperance, to give it smoothness." he is, therefore, entitled to a dispassionate answer. when johnson wrote the prologue, it does appear that he was aware of the malignant artifices practised by lauder. in the postscript to johnson's preface, a subscription is proposed, for relieving the granddaughter of the author of paradise lost. dr. towers will agree, that this shows johnson's alacrity in doing good. that alacrity showed itself again, in the letter printed in the european magazine, january, , and there said to have appeared originally in the general advertiser, th april, , by which the public were invited to embrace the opportunity of paying a just regard to the illustrious dead, united with the pleasure of doing good to the living. the letter adds, "to assist industrious indigence, struggling with distress, and debilitated by age, is a display of virtue, and an acquisition of happiness and honour. whoever, therefore, would be thought capable of pleasure, in reading the works of our incomparable milton, and not so destitute of gratitude, as to refuse to lay out a trifle, in a rational and elegant entertainment, for the benefit of his living remains, for the exercise of their own virtue, the increase of their reputation, and the consciousness of doing good, should appear at drury lane theatre, to-morrow, april , when comus will be performed, for the benefit of mrs. elizabeth foster, granddaughter to the author, and the only surviving branch of his family. _nota bene_, there will be a new prologue on the occasion, written by the author of irene, and spoken by mr. garrick." the man, who had thus exerted himself to serve the granddaughter, cannot be supposed to have entertained personal malice to the grandfather. it is true, that the malevolence of lauder, as well as the impostures of archibald bower, were fully detected by the labours, in the cause of truth, of the reverend dr. douglas, the late lord bishop of salisbury, --"diram qui contudit hydram notaque fatali portenta labore subegit." but the pamphlet, entitled, milton vindicated from the charge of plagiarism brought against him by mr. lauder, and lauder himself convicted of several forgeries, and gross impositions on the public, by john douglas, m.a. rector of eaton constantine, salop, was not published till the year . in that work, p. , dr. douglas says, "it is to be hoped, nay, it is expected, that the elegant and nervous writer, whose judicious sentiments, and inimitable style, point out the author of lauder's preface and postcript, will no longer allow a man to plume himself with his feathers, who appears so little to have deserved his assistance; an assistance which, i am persuaded, would never have been communicated, had there been the least suspicion of those facts, which i have been the instrument of conveying to the world." we have here a contemporary testimony to the integrity of dr. johnson, throughout the whole of that vile transaction. what was the consequence of the requisition made by dr. douglas? johnson, whose ruling passion may be said to be the love of truth, convinced lauder, that it would be more for his interest to make a full confession of his guilt, than to stand forth the convicted champion of a lie; and, for this purpose, he drew up, in the strongest terms, a recantation, in a letter to the reverend mr. douglas, which lauder signed, and published in the year . that piece will remain a lasting memorial of the abhorrence, with which johnson beheld a violation of truth. mr. nichols, whose attachment to his illustrious friend was unwearied, showed him, in , a book, called remarks on johnson's life of milton; in which the affair of lauder was renewed with virulence; and a poetical scale in the literary magazine, , (when johnson had ceased to write in that collection,) was urged as an additional proof of deliberate malice. he read the libellous passage with attention, and instantly wrote on the margin: "in the business of lauder i was deceived, partly by thinking the man too frantick to be fraudulent. of the poetical scale, quoted from the magazine, i am not the author. i fancy it was put in after i had quitted that work; for i not only did not write it, but i do not remember it." as a critic and a scholar, johnson was willing to receive what numbers, at the time, believed to be true information: when he found that the whole was a forgery, he renounced all connexion with the author. in march, , he felt a severe stroke of affliction in the death of his wife. the last number of the rambler, as already mentioned, was on the th of that month. the loss of mrs. johnson was then approaching, and, probably, was the cause that put an end to those admirable periodical essays. it appears that she died on the th of march, in a memorandum, at the foot of the prayers and meditations, that is called her dying day. she was buried at bromley, under the care of dr. hawkesworth. johnson placed a latin inscription on her tomb, in which he celebrated her beauty. with the singularity of his prayers for his deceased wife, from that time to the end of his days, the world is sufficiently acquainted. on easter day, nd april, , his memorandum says: "thought on tetty, poor dear tetty! with my eyes full. went to church. after sermon i recommended tetty in a prayer by herself; and my father, mother, brother, and bathurst, in another. i did it only once, so far as it might be lawful for me." in a prayer, january , , the day on which his mother was buried, he commends, as far as may be lawful, her soul to god, imploring for her whatever is most beneficial to her in her present state. in this habit he persevered to the end of his days. the reverend mr. strahan, the editor of the prayers and meditations, observes, "that johnson, on some occasions, prays that the almighty _may have had mercy_ on his wife and mr. thrale; evidently supposing their sentence to have been already passed in the divine mind; and, by consequence, proving, that he had no belief in a state of purgatory, and no reason for praying for the dead that could impeach the sincerity of his profession as a protestant." mr. strahan adds, "that, in praying for the regretted tenants of the grave, johnson conformed to a practice which has been retained by many learned members of the established church, though the liturgy no longer admits it, if _where the tree, falleth, there it shall be_; if our state, at the close of life, is to be the measure of our final sentence, then prayers for the dead, being visibly fruitless, can be regarded only as the vain oblations of superstition. but of all superstitions this, perhaps, is one of the least unamiable, and most incident to a good mind. if our sensations of kindness be intense, those, whom we have revered and loved, death cannot wholly seclude from our concern. it is true, for the reason just mentioned, such evidences of our surviving affection may be thought ill judged; but surely they are generous, and some natural tenderness is due even to a superstition, which thus originates in piety and benevolence." these sentences, extracted from the reverend mr. strahan's preface, if they are not a full justification, are, at least, a beautiful apology. it will not be improper to add what johnson himself has said on the subject. being asked by mr. boswell[p], what he thought of purgatory, as believed by the roman catholicks? his answer was, "it is a very harmless doctrine. they are of opinion, that the generality of mankind are neither so obstinately wicked, as to deserve everlasting punishment; nor so good as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; and, therefore, that god is graciously pleased to allow a middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees of suffering. you see there is nothing unreasonable in this; and if it be once established, that there are souls in purgatory, it is as proper to pray for them, as for our brethren of mankind, who are yet in this life." this was dr. johnson's guess into futurity; and to guess is the utmost that man can do: "shadows, clouds, and darkness, rest upon it." mrs. johnson left a daughter, lucy porter, by her first husband. she had contracted a friendship with mrs. anne williams, the daughter of zachary williams, a physician of eminence in south wales, who had devoted more than thirty years of a long life to the study of the longitude, and was thought to have made great advances towards that important discovery. his letters to lord halifax, and the lords of the admiralty, partly corrected and partly written by dr. johnson, are still extant in the hands of mr. nichols[q]. we there find dr. williams, in the eighty-third year of his age, stating, that he had prepared an instrument, which might be called an epitome or miniature of the terraqueous globe, showing, with the assistance of tables, constructed by himself, the variations of the magnetic needle, and ascertaining the longitude, for the safety of navigation. it appears that this scheme had been referred to sir isaac newton; but that great philosopher excusing himself on account of his advanced age, all applications were useless, till , when the subject was referred, by order of lord anson, to dr. bradley, the celebrated professor of astronomy. his report was unfavourable[r], though it allows that a considerable progress had been made. dr. williams, after all his labour and expense, died in a short time after, a melancholy instance of unrewarded merit. his daughter possessed uncommon talents, and, though blind, had an alacrity of mind that made her conversation agreeable, and even desirable. to relieve and appease melancholy reflexions, johnson took her home to his house in gough square. in , garrick gave her a benefit play, which produced two hundred pounds. in , she published, by subscription, a quarto volume of miscellanies, and increased her little stock to three hundred pounds. that fund, with johnson's protection, supported her, through the remainder of her life. during the two years in which the rambler was carried on, the dictionary proceeded by slow degrees. in may, , having composed a prayer, preparatory to his return from tears and sorrow to the duties of life, he resumed his grand design, and went on with vigour, giving, however, occasional assistance to his friend, dr. hawkesworth, in the adventurer, which began soon after the rambler was laid aside. some of the most valuable essays in that collection were from the pen of johnson. the dictionary was completed towards the end of ; and, cave being then no more, it was a mortification to the author of that noble addition to our language, that his old friend did not live to see the triumph of his labours. in may, , that great work was published. johnson was desirous that it should come from one who had obtained academical honours; and for that purpose his friend, the rev. thos. warton, obtained for him, in the preceding month of february, a diploma for a master's degree, from the university of oxford.--garrick, on the publication of the dictionary, wrote the following lines: "talk of war with a briton, he'll boldly advance, that one english soldier can beat ten of france. would we alter the boast, from the sword to the pen, our odds are still greater, still greater our men. in the deep mines of science, though frenchmen may toil, can their strength be compar'd to locke, newton, or boyle? let them rally their heroes, send forth all their powers, their versemen and prosemen, then match them with ours. first shakespeare and milton, like gods in the fight, have put their whole drama and epic to flight. in satires, epistles, and odes would they cope? their numbers retreat before dryden and pope. and johnson, well arm'd, like a hero of yore, has beat forty french, and will beat forty more." it is, perhaps, needless to mention, that forty was the number of the french academy, at the time when their dictionary was published to settle their language. in the course of the winter, preceding this grand publication, the late earl of chesterfield gave two essays in the periodical paper, called the world, dated november , and december , , to prepare the public for so important a work. the original plan, addressed to his lordship in the year , is there mentioned, in terms of the highest praise; and this was understood, at the time, to be a courtly way of soliciting a dedication of the dictionary to himself. johnson treated this civility with disdain. he said to garrick and others: "i have sailed a long and painful voyage round the world of the english language; and does he now send out two cockboats to tow me into harbour?" he had said, in the last number of the rambler, "that, having laboured to maintain the dignity of virtue, i will not now degrade it by the meanness of dedication." such a man, when he had finished his dictionary, "not," as he says himself, "in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow, and without the patronage of the great," was not likely to be caught by the lure, thrown out by lord chesterfield. he had, in vain, sought the patronage of that nobleman; and his pride, exasperated by disappointment, drew from him the following letter, dated in the month of february, . "to the right honourable the earl of chesterfield. my lord,--i have been lately informed, by the proprietors of the world, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your lordship. to be so distinguished is an honour which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, i know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. when, upon some slight encouragement, i first visited your lordship, i was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address, and could not forbear to wish, that i might boast myself "le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre;" that i might obtain that regard for which i saw the world contending. but i found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. when i had once addressed your lordship in publick, i had exhausted all the art of pleasing, which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. i had done all that i could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. seven years, my lord, have now passed, since i waited in your outward room, or was repulsed from your door; during which time, i have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect; for i never had a patron before. the shepherd in virgil grew acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks. is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed, till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations, where no benefit has been received; or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself. having carried on my work, thus far, with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, i shall not be disappointed, though i should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for i have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which i once boasted myself, with so much exultation, my lord, your lordship's most humble and most obedient servant, samuel johnson." it is said, upon good authority, that johnson once received from lord chesterfield the sum of ten pounds. it were to be wished that the secret had never transpired. it was mean to receive it, and meaner to give it. it may be imagined, that for johnson's ferocity, as it has been called, there was some foundation in his finances; and, as his dictionary was brought to a conclusion, that money was now to flow in upon him. the reverse was the case. for his subsistence, during the progress of the work, he had received, at different times, the amount of his contract; and, when his receipts were produced to him at a tavern dinner, given by the booksellers, it appeared, that he had been paid a hundred pounds and upwards more than his due. the author of a book, called lexiphanes[s], written by a mr. campbell, a scotchman, and purser of a man of war, endeavoured to blast his laurels, but in vain. the world applauded, and johnson never replied. "abuse," he said, "is often of service: there is nothing so dangerous to an author as silence; his name, like a shittlecock [transcriber's note: sic], must be beat backward and forward, or it falls to the ground." lexiphanes professed to be an imitation of the pleasant manner of lucian; but humour was not the talent of the writer of lexiphanes. as dryden says, "he had too much horse-play in his raillery." it was in the summer, , that the present writer became acquainted with dr. johnson. the cause of his first visit is related by mrs. piozzi, nearly in the following manner:--mr. murphy being engaged in a periodical paper, the gray's inn journal, was at a friend's house in the country, and, not being disposed to lose pleasure for business, wished to content his bookseller by some unstudied essay. he, therefore, took up a french journal littéraire, and, translating something he liked, sent it away to town. time, however, discovered that he translated from the french, a rambler, which had been taken from the english, without acknowledgment. upon this discovery, mr. murphy thought it right to make his excuses to dr. johnson. he went next day, and found him covered with soot, like a chimney-sweeper, in a little room, as if he had been acting lungs, in the alchemist, "making ether." this being told by mr. murphy, in company, "come, come," said dr. johnson, "the story is black enough; but it was a happy day that brought you first to my house." after this first visit, the author of this narrative, by degrees, grew intimate with dr. johnson. the first striking sentence, that he heard from him, was in a few days after the publication of lord bolingbroke's posthumous works. mr. garrick asked him, "if he had seen them." "yes, i have seen them." "what do you think of them?" "think of them!" he made a long pause, and then replied: "think of them! a scoundrel, and a coward! a scoundrel, who spent his life in charging a gun against christianity; and a coward, who was afraid of hearing the report of his own gun; but left half a crown to a hungry scotchman to draw the trigger, after his death." his mind, at this time strained, and over-laboured by constant exertion, called for an interval of repose and indolence. but indolence was the time of danger: it was then that his spirits, not employed abroad, turned with inward hostility against himself. his reflections on his own life and conduct were always severe; and, wishing to be immaculate, he destroyed his own peace by unnecessary scruples. he tells us, that when he surveyed his past life, he discovered nothing but a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of mind, very near to madness. his life, he says, from his earliest years, was wasted in a morning bed; and his reigning sin was a general sluggishness, to which he was always inclined, and, in part of his life, almost compelled, by morbid melancholy, and weariness of mind. this was his constitutional malady, derived, perhaps, from his father, who was, at times, overcast with a gloom that bordered on insanity. when to this it is added, that johnson, about the age of twenty, drew up a description of his infirmities, for dr. swinfen, at that time an eminent physician, in staffordshire; and received an answer to his letter, importing, that the symptoms indicated a future privation of reason; who can wonder, that he was troubled with melancholy, and dejection of spirit? an apprehension of the worst calamity that can befall human nature hung over him all the rest of his life, like the sword of the tyrant suspended over his guest. in his sixtieth year he had a mind to write the history of his melancholy; but he desisted, not knowing whether it would not too much disturb him. in a latin poem, however, to which he has prefixed, as a title, [greek: gnothi seauton], he has left a picture of himself, drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can be seen in the portraits of hogarth, or sir joshua reynolds. the learned reader will find the original poem in this volume; and it is hoped, that a translation, or rather imitation, of so curious a piece, will not be improper in this place. know yourself. (after revising and enlarging the english lexicon, or dictionary.) when scaliger, whole years of labour past, beheld his lexicon complete at last, and weary of his task, with wond'ring eyes, saw, from words pil'd on words, a fabric rise, he curs'd the industry, inertly strong, in creeping toil that could persist so long; and if, enrag'd he cried, heav'n meant to shed its keenest vengeance on the guilty head, the drudgery of words the damn'd would know, doom'd to write lexicons in endless woe[t]. yes, you had cause, great genius, to repent; "you lost good days, that might be better spent;" you well might grudge the hours of ling'ring pain, and view your learned labours with disdain. to you were given the large expanded mind, the flame of genius, and the taste refin'd. 'twas yours, on eagle wings, aloft to soar, and, amidst rolling worlds, the great first cause explore, to fix the aeras of recorded time, and live in ev'ry age and ev'ry clime; record the chiefs, who propt their country's cause; who founded empires, and establish'd laws; to learn whate'er the sage, with virtue fraught, whate'er the muse of moral wisdom taught. these were your quarry; these to you were known, and the world's ample volume was your own. yet, warn'd by me, ye pigmy wits, beware, nor with immortal scaliger compare. for me, though his example strike my view, oh! not for me his footsteps to pursue. whether first nature, unpropitious, cold, this clay compounded in a ruder mould; or the slow current, loit'ring at my heart, no gleam of wit or fancy can impart; whate'er the cause, from me no numbers flow, no visions warm me, and no raptures glow. a mind like scaliger's, superior still, no grief could conquer, no misfortune chill. though, for the maze of words, his native skies he seem'd to quit, 'twas but again to rise; to mount, once more, to the bright source of day, and view the wonders of th' ethereal way. the love of fame his gen'rous bosom fir'd; each science hail'd him, and each muse inspir'd. for him the sons of learning trimm'd the bays, and nations grew harmonious in his praise. my task perform'd, and all my labours o'er, for me what lot has fortune now in store? the listless will succeeds, that worst disease, the rack of indolence, the sluggish ease. care grows on care, and o'er my aching brain black melancholy pours her morbid train. no kind relief, no lenitive at hand, i seek, at midnight clubs, the social band; but midnight clubs, where wit with noise conspires, where comus revels, and where wine inspires, delight no more: i seek my lonely bed, and call on sleep to sooth my languid head. but sleep from these sad lids flies far away; i mourn all night, and dread the coming day. exhausted, tir'd, i throw my eyes around, to find some vacant spot on classic ground; and soon, vain hope! i form a grand design; languor succeeds, and all my pow'rs decline. if science open not her richest vein, without materials all our toil is vain. a form to rugged stone when phidias gives-- beneath his touch a new creation lives. remove his marble, and his genius dies: with nature then no breathing statue vies. whate'er i plan, i feel my pow'rs confin'd by fortune's frown, and penury of mind. i boast no knowledge, glean'd with toil and strife, that bright reward of a well acted life. i view myself, while reason's feeble light shoots a pale glimmer through the gloom of night; while passions, error, phantoms of the brain, and vain opinions, fill the dark domain; a dreary void, where fears, with grief combin'd, waste all within, and desolate the mind. what then remains? must i, in slow decline, to mute inglorious ease old age resign? or, bold ambition kindling in my breast, attempt some arduous task? or, were it best, brooding o'er lexicons to pass the day, and in that labour drudge my life away? such is the picture for which dr. johnson sat to himself. he gives the prominent features of his character; his lassitude, his morbid melancholy, his love of fame, his dejection, his tavern-parties, and his wandering reveries, "vacuae mala somnia mentis," about which so much has been written; all are painted in miniature, but in vivid colours, by his own hand. his idea of writing more dictionaries was not merely said in verse. mr. hamilton, who was at that time an eminent printer, and well acquainted with dr. johnson, remembers that he engaged in a commercial dictionary, and, as appears by the receipts in his possession, was paid his price for several sheets; but he soon relinquished the undertaking. it is probable, that he found himself not sufficiently versed in that branch of knowledge. he was again reduced to the expedient of short compositions, for the supply of the day. the writer of this narrative has now before him a letter, in dr. johnson's handwriting, which shows the distress and melancholy situation of the man, who had written the rambler, and finished the great work of his dictionary. the letter is directed to mr. richardson, the author of clarissa, and is as follows: "sir,--i am obliged to entreat your assistance. i am now under an arrest for five pounds eighteen shillings. mr. strahan, from whom i should have received the necessary help in this case, is not at home; and i am afraid of not finding mr. millar. if you will be so good as to send me this sum, i will very gratefully repay you, and add it to all former obligations. i am, sir, your most obedient, and most humble servant, samuel johnson. gough square, march." in the margin of this letter, there is a memorandum in these words: "march , , sent six guineas. witness, wm. richardson." for the honour of an admired writer it is to be regretted, that we do not find a more liberal entry. to his friend, in distress, he sent eight shillings more than was wanted. had an incident of this kind occurred in one of his romances, richardson would have known how to grace his hero; but in fictitious scenes, generosity costs the writer nothing. about this time johnson contributed several papers to a periodical miscellany, called the visiter, from motives which are highly honourable to him, a compassionate regard for the late mr. christopher smart. the criticism on pope's epitaphs appeared in that work. in a short time after, he became a reviewer in the literary magazine, under the auspices of the late mr. newbery, a man of a projecting head, good taste, and great industry. this employment engrossed but little of johnson's time. he resigned himself to indolence, took no exercise, rose about two, and then received the visits of his friends. authors, long since forgotten, waited on him, as their oracle, and he gave responses in the chair of criticism. he listened to the complaints, the schemes, and the hopes and fears of a crowd of inferior writers, "who," he said, in the words of roger ascham, "lived _men knew not how, and died obscure, men marked not when_." he believed, that he could give a better history of grub street than any man living. his house was filled with a succession of visitors till four or five in the evening. during the whole time he presided at his tea-table. tea was his favourite beverage; and, when the late jonas hanway pronounced his anathema against the use of tea, johnson rose in defence of his habitual practice, declaring himself "in that article, a hardened sinner, who had for years diluted his meals with the infusion of that fascinating plant; whose tea-kettle had no time to cool; who, with tea, solaced the midnight hour, and with tea welcomed the morning." the proposal for a new edition of shakespeare, which had formerly miscarried, was resumed in the year . the booksellers readily agreed to his terms: and subscription-tickets were issued out. for undertaking this work, money, he confessed, was the inciting motive. his friends exerted themselves to promote his interest; and, in the mean time, he engaged in a new periodical production, called the idler. the first number appeared on saturday, april , and the last, april , . the profits of this work, and the subscriptions for the new edition of shakespeare, were the means by which he supported himself for four or five years. in , was published rasselas, prince of abissinia. his translation of lobo's voyage to abissinia, seems to have pointed out that country for the scene of action; and rassela christos, the general of sultan sequed, mentioned in that work, most probably suggested the name of the prince. the author wanted to set out on a journey to lichfield, in order to pay the last offices of filial piety to his mother, who, at the age of ninety, was then near her dissolution; but money was necessary. mr. johnston, a bookseller, who has, long since, left off business, gave one hundred pounds for the copy. with this supply johnson set out for lichfield; but did not arrive in time to close the eyes of a parent whom he loved. he attended the funeral, which, as appears among his memorandums, was on the rd of january, . johnson now found it necessary to retrench his expenses. he gave up his house in gough square. mrs. williams went into lodgings. he retired to gray's inn, and soon removed to chambers in the inner temple lane, where he lived in poverty, total idleness, and the pride of literature: "magni stat nominis umbra." mr. fitzherbert, the father of lord st. helens, the present minister at madrid, a man distinguished, through life, for his benevolence and other amiable qualities, used to say, that he paid a morning visit to johnson, intending, from his chambers, to send a letter into the city; but, to his great surprise, he found an author by profession, without pen, ink, or paper. the present bishop of salisbury was also among those who endeavoured, by constant attention, to sooth the cares of a mind, which he knew to be afflicted with gloomy apprehensions. at one of the parties made at his house, boscovich, the jesuit, who had then lately introduced the newtonian philosophy at rome, and, after publishing an elegant latin poem on the subject, was made a fellow of the royal society, was one of the company invited to meet dr. johnson. the conversation, at first, was mostly in french. johnson, though thoroughly versed in that language, and a professed admirer of boileau and la bruyère, did not understand its pronunciation, nor could he speak it himself with propriety. for the rest of the evening the talk was in latin. boscovich had a ready current flow of that flimsy phraseology, with which a priest may travel through italy, spain, and germany. johnson scorned what he called colloquial barbarisms. it was his pride to speak his best. he went on, after a little practice, with as much facility as if it was his native tongue. one sentence this writer well remembers. observing that fontenelle, at first, opposed the newtonian philosophy, and embraced it afterwards, his words were: "fontinellus, ni fallor, in extrema senectute, fuit transfuga ad castra newtoniana." we have now travelled through that part of dr. johnson's life, which was a perpetual struggle with difficulties. halcyon days are now to open upon him. in the month of may, , his majesty, to reward literary merit, signified his pleasure to grant to johnson a pension of three hundred pounds a year. the earl of bute was minister. lord loughborough, who, perhaps, was originally a mover in the business, had authority to mention it. he was well acquainted with johnson; but, having heard much of his independent spirit, and of the downfal of osborne, the bookseller, he did not know but his benevolence might be rewarded with a folio on his head. he desired the author of these memoirs to undertake the task. this writer thought the opportunity of doing so much good the most happy incident in his life. he went, without delay, to the chambers, in the inner temple lane, which, in fact, were the abode of wretchedness. by slow and studied approaches the message was disclosed. johnson made a long pause: he asked if it was seriously intended: he fell into a profound meditation, and his own definition of a pensioner occurred to him. he was told, "that he, at least, did not come within the definition." he desired to meet next day, and dine at the mitre tavern. at that meeting he gave up all his scruples. on the following day, lord loughborough conducted him to the earl of bute. the conversation that passed, was, in the evening, related to this writer, by dr. johnson. he expressed his sense of his majesty's bounty, and thought himself the more highly honoured, as the favour was not bestowed on him for having dipped his pen in faction. "no, sir," said lord bute, "it is not offered to you for having dipped your pen in faction, nor with a design that you ever should." sir john hawkins will have it, that, after this interview, johnson was often pressed to wait on lord bute, but with a sullen spirit refused to comply. however that be, johnson was never heard to utter a disrespectful word of that nobleman. the writer of this essay remembers a circumstance, which may throw some light on this subject. the late dr. rose, of chiswick, whom johnson loved and respected, contended for the pre-eminence of the scotch writers; and ferguson's book on civil society, then on the eve of publication, he said, would give the laurel to north britain. "alas! what can he do upon that subject?" said johnson: "aristotle, polybius, grotius, puffendorf, and burlemaqui, have reaped in that field before him." "he will treat it," said dr. rose, "in a new manner." "a new manner! buckinger had no hands, and he wrote his name with his toes, at charing cross, for half a crown a piece; that was a new manner of writing!" dr. rose replied: "if that will not satisfy you, i will name a writer, whom you must allow to be the best in the kingdom." "who is that?" "the earl of bute, when he wrote an order for your pension." "there, sir," said johnson, "you have me in the toil: to lord bute i must allow whatever praise you claim for him." ingratitude was no part of johnson's character. being now in the possession of a regular income, johnson left his chambers in the temple, and, once more, became master of a house in johnson's court, fleet street. dr. levet, his friend and physician in ordinary[u], paid his daily visits, with assiduity; made tea all the morning, talked what he had to say, and did not expect an answer. mrs. williams had her apartment in the house, and entertained her benefactor with more enlarged conversation. chymistry was a part of johnson's amusement. for this love of experimental philosophy, sir john hawkins thinks an apology necessary. he tells us, with great gravity, that curiosity was the only object in view; not an intention to grow suddenly rich by the philosopher's stone, or the transmutation of metals. to enlarge this circle, johnson, once more, had recourse to a literary club. this was at the turk's head, in gerard street, soho, on every tuesday evening through the year. the members were, besides himself, the right honourable edmund burke, sir joshua reynolds, dr. nugent, dr. goldsmith, the late mr. topham beauclerc, mr. langton, mr. chamier, sir j. hawkins, and some others. johnson's affection for sir joshua was founded on a long acquaintance, and a thorough knowledge of the virtuous and amiable qualities of that excellent artist. he delighted in the conversation of mr. burke. he met him, for the first time, at mr. garrick's, several years ago. on the next day he said: "i suppose, murphy, you are proud of your countryman: 'cum talis sit, utinam noster esset!'" from that time, his constant observation was, "that a man of sense could not meet mr. burke, by accident, under a gateway, to avoid a shower, without being convinced, that he was the first man in england." johnson felt not only kindness, but zeal and ardour for his friends. he did every thing in his power to advance the reputation of dr. goldsmith. he loved him, though he knew his failings, and particularly the leaven of envy, which corroded the mind of that elegant writer, and made him impatient, without disguise, of the praises bestowed on any person whatever. of this infirmity, which marked goldsmith's character, johnson gave a remarkable instance. it happened that he went with sir joshua reynolds and goldsmith, to see the fantoccini, which were exhibited, some years ago, in or near the haymarket. they admired the curious mechanism by which the puppets were made to walk the stage, draw a chair to the table, sit down, write a letter, and perform a variety of other actions, with such dexterity, that "though nature's journeymen made the men, they imitated humanity," to the astonishment of the spectator. the entertainment being over, the three friends retired to a tavern. johnson and sir joshua talked with pleasure of what they had seen; and, says johnson, in a tone of admiration: "how the little fellow brandished his spontoon!" "there is nothing in it," replied goldsmith, starting up with impatience, "give me a spontoon; i can do it as well myself." enjoying his amusements at his weekly club, and happy in a state of independence, johnson gained, in the year , another resource, which contributed, more than any thing else, to exempt him from the solicitudes of life. he was introduced to the late mr. thrale and his family. mrs. piozzi has related the fact, and it is, therefore, needless to repeat it in this place. the author of this narrative looks back to the share he had in that business, with self-congratulation, since he knows the tenderness which, from that time, soothed johnson's cares at streatham, and prolonged a valuable life. the subscribers to shakespeare began to despair of ever seeing the promised edition. to acquit himself of this obligation, he went to work unwillingly, but proceeded with vigour. in the month of october, , shakespeare was published; and, in a short time after, the university of dublin sent over a diploma, in honourable terms, creating him a doctor of laws. oxford, in eight or ten years afterwards, followed the example; and, till then, johnson never assumed the title of doctor. in , his constitution seemed to be in a rapid decline; and that morbid melancholy, which often clouded his understanding, came upon him with a deeper gloom than ever. mr. and mrs. thrale paid him a visit in this situation, and found him on his knees, with dr. delap, the rector of lewes, in sussex, beseeching god to continue to him the use of his understanding. mr. thrale took him to his house at streatham, and johnson, from that time, became a constant resident in the family. he went, occasionally, to the club in gerard street, but his headquarters were fixed at streatham. an apartment was fitted up for him, and the library was greatly enlarged. parties were constantly invited from town; and johnson was every day at an elegant table, with select and polished company. whatever could be devised by mr. and mrs. thrale to promote the happiness, and establish the health of their guest, was studiously performed from that time to the end of mr. thrale's life. johnson accompanied the family, in all their summer excursions, to brighthelmstone, to wales, and to paris. it is but justice to mr. thrale to say, that a more ingenuous frame of mind no man possessed. his education at oxford gave him the habits of a gentleman; his amiable temper recommended his conversation; and the goodness of his heart made him a sincere friend. that he was the patron of johnson, is an honour to his memory. in petty disputes with contemporary writers, or the wits of the age, johnson was seldom entangled. a single incident of that kind may not be unworthy of notice, since it happened with a man of great celebrity in his time. a number of friends dined with garrick on a christmas day. foote was then in ireland. it was said, at table, that the modern aristophanes (so foote was called) had been horsewhipped by a dublin apothecary, for mimicking him on the stage. "i wonder," said garrick, "that any man should show so much resentment to foote; he has a patent for such liberties; nobody ever thought it worth his while to quarrel with him in london." "i am glad," said johnson, "to find that the man is rising in the world." the expression was afterwards repeated to foote, who, in return, gave out, that he would produce the caliban of literature on the stage. being informed of this design, johnson sent word to foote: "that the theatre being intended for the reformation of vice, he would step from the boxes on the stage, and correct him before the audience." foote knew the intrepidity of his antagonist, and abandoned the design. no ill will ensued. johnson used to say: "that for broad-faced mirth, foote had not his equal." dr. johnson's fame excited the curiosity of the king. his majesty expressed a desire to see a man of whom extraordinary things were said. accordingly, the librarian at buckingham house invited johnson to see that elegant collection of books, at the same time giving a hint of what was intended. his majesty entered the room, and, among other things, asked the author, "if he meant to give the world any more of his compositions." johnson answered: "that he thought he had written enough." "and i should think so too," replied his majesty, "if you had not written so well." though johnson thought he had written enough, his genius, even in spite of bodily sluggishness, could not lie still. in we find him entering the lists, as a political writer. the flame of discord that blazed throughout the nation, on the expulsion of mr. wilkes, and the final determination of the house of commons, that mr. luttrell was duly elected by two hundred and six votes, against eleven hundred and forty-three, spread a general spirit of discontent. to allay the tumult, dr. johnson published the false alarm. mrs. piozzi informs us, "that this pamphlet was written at her house, between eight o'clock on wednesday night and twelve on thursday night." this celerity has appeared wonderful to many, and some have doubted the truth. it may, however, be placed within the bounds of probability. johnson has observed, that there are different methods of composition. virgil was used to pour out a great number of verses in the morning, and pass the day in retrenching the exuberances, and correcting inaccuracies; and it was pope's custom to write his first thoughts in his first words, and gradually to amplify, decorate, rectify, and refine them. others employ, at once, memory and invention, and, with little intermediate use of the pen, form and polish large masses by continued meditation, and write their productions only, when, in their opinion, they have completed them. this last was johnson's method. he never took his pen in hand till he had well weighed his subject, and grasped, in his mind, the sentiments, the train of argument, and the arrangement of the whole. as he often thought aloud, he had, perhaps, talked it over to himself. this may account for that rapidity with which, in general, he despatched his sheets to the press, without being at the trouble of a fair copy. whatever may be the logic or eloquence of the false alarm, the house of commons have since erased the resolution from the journals. but whether they have not left materials for a future controversy may be made a question. in , he published another tract, on the subject of falkland islands. the design was to show the impropriety of going to war with spain for an island, thrown aside from human use, stormy in winter, and barren in summer. for this work it is apparent, that materials were furnished by direction of the minister. at the approach of the general election in , he wrote a short discourse, called the patriot, not with any visible application to mr. wilkes; but to teach the people to reject the leaders of opposition, who called themselves patriots. in , he undertook a pamphlet of more importance, namely, taxation no tyranny, in answer to the resolutions and address of the american congress. the scope of the argument was, that distant colonies, which had, in their assemblies, a legislature of their own, were, notwithstanding, liable to be taxed in a british parliament, where they had neither peers in one house, nor representatives in the other. he was of opinion, that this country was strong enough to enforce obedience. "when an englishman," he says, "is told that the americans shoot up like the hydra, he naturally considers how the hydra was destroyed." the event has shown how much he and the minister of that day were mistaken. the account of the tour to the western islands of scotland, which was undertaken in the autumn of , in company with mr. boswell, was not published till some time in the year . this book has been variously received; by some extolled for the elegance of the narrative, and the depth of observation on life and manners; by others, as much condemned, as a work of avowed hostility to the scotch nation. the praise was, beyond all question, fairly deserved; and the censure, on due examination, will appear hasty and ill founded. that johnson entertained some prejudices against the scotch must not be dissembled. it is true, as mr. boswell says, "that he thought their success in england exceeded their proportion of real merit, and he could not but see in them that nationality which no liberal-minded scotsman will deny." the author of these memoirs well remembers, that johnson one day asked him, "have you observed the difference between your own country impudence and scotch impudence?" the answer being in the negative: "then i will tell you," said johnson. "the impudence of an irishman is the impudence of a fly, that buzzes about you, and you put it away, but it returns again, and flutters and teases you. the impudence of a scotsman is the impudence of a leech, that fixes and sucks your blood." upon another occasion, this writer went with him into the shop of davies, the bookseller, in russell street, covent garden. davies came running to him, almost out of breath with joy: "the scots gentleman is come, sir; his principal wish is to see you; he is now in the back parlour." "well, well, i'll see the gentleman," said johnson. he walked towards the room. mr. boswell was the person. this writer followed, with no small curiosity. "i find," said mr. boswell, "that i am come to london, at a bad time, when great popular prejudice has gone forth against us north britons; but, when i am talking to you, i am talking to a large and liberal mind, and you know that i cannot help coming from scotland." "sir," said johnson, "no more can the rest of your countrymen[x]." he had other reasons that helped to alienate him from the natives of scotland. being a cordial well-wisher to the constitution in church and state, he did not think that calvin and john knox were proper founders of a national religion. he made, however, a wide distinction between the dissenters of scotland and the separatists of england. to the former he imputed no disaffection, no want of loyalty. their soldiers and their officers had shed their blood with zeal and courage in the service of great britain; and the people, he used to say, were content with their own established modes of worship, without wishing, in the present age, to give any disturbance to the church of england. this he was, at all times, ready to admit; and, therefore, declared, that, whenever he found a scotchman, to whom an englishman was as a scotchman, that scotchman should be as an englishman to him. in this, surely, there was no rancour, no malevolence. the dissenters, on this side the tweed, appeared to him in a different light. their religion, he frequently said, was too worldly, too political, too restless and ambitious. the doctrine of cashiering kings, and erecting, on the ruins of the constitution, a new form of government, which lately issued from their pulpits, he always thought was, under a calm disguise, the principle that lay lurking in their hearts. he knew, that a wild democracy had overturned kings, lords, and commons; and that a set of republican fanatics, who would not bow at the name of jesus, had taken possession of all the livings, and all the parishes in the kingdom. that those scenes of horror might never be renewed, was the ardent wish of dr. johnson; and, though he apprehended no danger from scotland, it is probable, that his dislike of calvinism mingled, sometimes, with his reflections on the natives of that country. the association of ideas could not be easily broken; but it is well known, that he loved and respected many gentlemen from that part of the island. dr. robertson's history of scotland, and dr. beattie's essays, were subjects of his constant praise. mr. boswell, dr. rose, of chiswick, andrew millar, mr. hamilton, the printer, and the late mr. strahan, were among his most intimate friends. many others might be added to the list. he scorned to enter scotland as a spy; though hawkins, his biographer, and the professing defender of his fame, allowed himself leave to represent him in that ignoble character. he went into scotland to survey men and manners. antiquities, fossils, and minerals, were not within his province. he did not visit that country to settle the station of roman camps, or the spot, where galgacus fought the last battle for public liberty. the people, their customs, and the progress of literature, were his objects. the civilities which he received in the course of his tour, have been repaid with grateful acknowledgment, and, generally, with great elegance of expression. his crime is, that he found the country bare of trees, and he has stated the fact. this, mr. boswell, in his tour to the hebrides, has told us, was resented, by his countrymen, with anger inflamed to rancour; but he admits that there are few trees on the east side of scotland. mr. pennant, in his tour, says, that, in some parts of the eastern side of the country, he saw several large plantations of pine, planted by gentlemen near their seats; and, in this respect, such a laudable spirit prevails, that, in another half-century, it never shall be said, "to spy the nakedness of the land are you come." johnson could not wait for that half-century, and, therefore, mentioned things as he found them. if, in any thing, he has been mistaken, he has made a fair apology, in the last paragraph of his book, avowing with candour: "that he may have been surprised by modes of life, and appearances of nature, that are familiar to men of wider survey, and more varied conversation. novelty and ignorance must always be reciprocal: and he is conscious that his thoughts on national manners, are the thoughts of one who has seen but little." the poems of ossian made a part of johnson's inquiry, during his residence in scotland and the hebrides. on his return to england, november, , a storm seemed to be gathering over his head; but the cloud never burst, and the thunder never fell.--ossian, it is well known, was presented to the public, as a translation from the erse; but that this was a fraud, johnson declared, without hesitation. "the erse," he says, "was always oral only, and never a written language. the welsh and the irish were more cultivated. in erse, there was not in the world a single manuscript a hundred years old. martin, who, in the last century, published an account of the western islands, mentions irish, but never erse manuscripts, to be found in the islands in his time. the bards could not read; if they could, they might, probably, have written. but the bard was a barbarian among barbarians, and, knowing nothing himself, lived with others that knew no more. if there is a manuscript from which the translation was made, in what age was it written, and where is it? if it was collected from oral recitation, it could only be in detached parts, and scattered fragments: the whole is too long to be remembered. who put it together in its present form?" for these, and such like reasons, johnson calls the whole an imposture. he adds, "the editor, or author, never could show the original, nor can it be shown by any other. to revenge reasonable incredulity, by refusing evidence, is a degree of insolence with which the world is not yet acquainted; and stubborn audacity is the last refuge of guilt." this reasoning carries with it great weight. it roused the resentment of mr. macpherson. he sent a threatening letter to the author; and johnson answered him in the rough phrase of stern defiance. the two heroes frowned at a distance, but never came to action. in the year , the misfortunes of dr. dodd excited his compassion. he wrote a speech for that unhappy man, when called up to receive judgment of death; besides two petitions, one to the king, and another to the queen; and a sermon to be preached by dodd to the convicts in newgate. it may appear trifling to add, that, about the same time, he wrote a prologue to the comedy of a word to the wise, written by hugh kelly. the play, some years before, had been damned by a party on the first night. it was revived for the benefit of the author's widow. mrs. piozzi relates, that when johnson was rallied for these exertions, so close to one another, his answer was, "when they come to me with a dying parson, and a dead stay-maker, what can a man do?" we come now to the last of his literary labours. at the request of the booksellers, he undertook the lives of the poets. the first publication was in , and the whole was completed in . in a memorandum of that year, he says, some time in march he finished the lives of the poets, which he wrote in his usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, yet working with vigour and haste. in another place, he hopes they are written in such a manner, as may tend to the promotion of piety. that the history of so many men, who, in their different degrees, made themselves conspicuous in their time, was not written recently after their deaths, seems to be an omission that does no honour to the republic of letters. their contemporaries, in general, looked on with calm indifference, and suffered wit and genius to vanish out of the world in total silence, unregarded and unlamented. was there no friend to pay the tribute of a tear? no just observer of life to record the virtues of the deceased? was even envy silent? it seemed to have been agreed, that if an author's works survived, the history of the man was to give no moral lesson to after-ages. if tradition told us that ben jonson went to the devil tavern; that shakespeare stole deer, and held the stirrup at play-house doors; that dryden frequented button's coffee-house; curiosity was lulled asleep, and biography forgot the best part of her function, which is, to instruct mankind by examples taken from the school of life. this task remained for dr. johnson, when years had rolled away; when the channels of information were, for the most part, choked up, and little remained besides doubtful anecdote, uncertain tradition, and vague report. "nunc situs informis premit et deserta vetustas." the value of biography has been better understood in other ages, and in other countries. tacitus informs us, that to record the lives and characters of illustrious men, was the practice of the roman authors, in the early periods of the republic. in france, the example has been followed. fontenelle, d'alembert, and monsieur thomas, have left models in this kind of composition. they have embalmed the dead. but it is true, that they had incitements and advantages, even at a distant day, which could not, by any diligence, be obtained by dr. johnson. the wits of france had ample materials. they lived in a nation of critics, who had, at heart, the honour done to their country by their poets, their heroes, and their philosophers. they had, besides, an academy of belles-lettres, where genius was cultivated, refined, and encouraged. they had the tracts, the essays, and dissertations, which remain in the memoirs of the academy, and they had the speeches of the several members, delivered at their first admission to a seat in that learned assembly. in those speeches the new academician did ample justice to the memory of his predecessor; and though his harangue was decorated with the colours of eloquence, and was, for that reason, called panegyric, yet, being pronounced before qualified judges, who knew the talents, the conduct, and morals of the deceased, the speaker could not, with propriety, wander into the regions of fiction. the truth was known, before it was adorned. the academy saw the marble before the artist polished it. but this country has had no academy of literature. the public mind, for centuries, has been engrossed by party and faction; "by the madness of many for the gain of a few;" by civil wars, religious dissensions, trade and commerce, and the arts of accumulating wealth. amidst such attentions, who can wonder that cold praise has been often the only reward of merit? in this country, dr. nathaniel hodges, who, like the good bishop of marseilles, drew purer breath amidst the contagion of the plague in london, and, during the whole time, continued in the city, administering medical assistance, was suffered, as johnson used to relate, with tears in his eyes, to die for debt, in a gaol. in this country, the man who brought the new river to london, was ruined by that noble project; and, in this country, otway died for want, on tower hill; butler, the great author of hudibras, whose name can only die with the english language, was left to languish in poverty; the particulars of his life almost unknown, and scarce a vestige of him left, except his immortal poem. had there been an academy of literature, the lives, at least, of those celebrated persons, would have been written for the benefit of posterity. swift, it seems, had the idea of such an institution, and proposed it to lord oxford; but whig and tory were more important objects. it is needless to dissemble, that dr. johnson, in the life of roscommon, talks of the inutility of such a project. "in this country," he says, "an academy could be expected to do but little. if an academician's place were profitable, it would be given by interest; if attendance were gratuitous, it would be rarely paid, and no man would endure the least disgust. unanimity is impossible, and debate would separate the assembly." to this it may be sufficient to answer, that the royal society has not been dissolved by sullen disgust; and the modern academy, at somerset house, has already performed much, and promises more. unanimity is not necessary to such an assembly. on the contrary, by difference of opinion, and collision of sentiment, the cause of literature would thrive and flourish. the true principles of criticism, the secret of fine writing, the investigation of antiquities, and other interesting subjects, might occasion a clash of opinions; but, in that contention, truth would receive illustration, and the essays of the several members would supply the memoirs of the academy. "but," says dr. johnson, "suppose the philological decree made and promulgated, what would be its authority? in absolute government there is, sometimes, a general reverence paid to all that has the sanction of power the countenance of greatness.--how little this is the state of our country, needs not to be told. the edicts of an english academy would, probably, be read by many, only that they may be sure to disobey them. the present manners of the nation would deride authority, and, therefore, nothing is left, but that every writer should criticise himself." this, surely, is not conclusive. it is by the standard of the best writers, that every man settles, for himself, his plan of legitimate composition; and since the authority of superior genius is acknowledged, that authority, which the individual obtains, would not be lessened by an association with others of distinguished ability. it may, therefore, be inferred, that an academy of literature would be an establishment highly useful, and an honour to literature. in such an institution, profitable places would not be wanted. "vatis avarus haud facile est animus;" and the minister, who shall find leisure, from party and faction, to carry such a scheme into execution, will, in all probability, be respected by posterity, as the maecenas of letters. we now take leave of dr. johnson, as an author. four volumes of his lives of the poets were published in , and the work was completed in . should biography fall again into disuse, there will not always be a johnson to look back through a century, and give a body of critical and moral instruction. in april, , he lost his friend mr. thrale. his own words, in his diary, will best tell that melancholy event. "on wednesday, the th of april, was buried my dear friend mr. thrale, who died on wednesday, the th, and with him were buried many of my hopes and pleasures. about five, i think, on wednesday morning, he expired. i felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked, for the last time, upon the face, that, for fifteen years before, had never been turned upon me but with respect and benignity. farewell: may god, that delighteth in mercy, have had mercy on thee! i had constantly prayed for him before his death. the decease of him, from whose friendship i had obtained many opportunities of amusement, and to whom i turned my thoughts, as to a refuge from misfortunes, has left me heavy. but my business is with myself."--from the close of his last work, the malady that persecuted him through life came upon him with alarming severity, and his constitution declined apace. in , his old friend, levet, expired, without warning and without a groan. events like these reminded johnson of his own mortality. he continued his visits to mrs. thrale, at streatham, to the th day of october, , when, having first composed a prayer for the happiness of a family, with whom he had, for many years, enjoyed the pleasures and comforts of life, he removed to his own house in town. he says he was up early in the morning, and read fortuitously in the gospel, "which was his parting use of the library." the merit of the family is manifested by the sense he had of it, and we see his heart overflowing with gratitude. he leaves the place with regret, and "casts a lingering look behind." the few remaining occurrences may be soon despatched. in the month of june, , johnson had a paralytic stroke, which affected his speech only. he wrote to dr. taylor, of westminster; and to his friend mr. allen, the printer, who lived at the next door. dr. brocklesby arrived in a short time, and by his care, and that of dr. heberden, johnson soon recovered. during his illness, the writer of this narrative visited him, and found him reading dr. watson's chymistry. articulating with difficulty, he said, "from this book, he who knows nothing may learn a great deal; and he who knows, will be pleased to find his knowledge recalled to his mind in a manner highly pleasing." in the month of august he set out for lichfield, on a visit to mrs. lucy porter, the daughter of his wife by her first husband; and, in his way back, paid his respects to dr. adams, at oxford. mrs. williams died, at his house in bolt court, in the month of september, during his absence. this was another shock to a mind like his, ever agitated by the thoughts of futurity. the contemplation of his own approaching end was constantly before his eyes; and the prospect of death, he declared, was terrible. for many years, when he was not disposed to enter into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his chair, might hear him repeating, from shakespeare, "aye, but to die, and go we know not where; to lie in cold obstruction and to rot; this sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clod, and the delighted spirit to bathe in fiery floods"-- and from milton, --"who would lose, for fear of pain, this intellectual being?" by the death of mrs. williams he was left in a state of destitution, with nobody but frank, his black servant, to sooth his anxious moments. in november, , he was swelled from head to foot with a dropsy. dr. brocklesby, with that benevolence with which he always assists his friends, paid his visits with assiduity. the medicines prescribed were so efficacious, that, in a few days, johnson, while he was offering up his prayers, was suddenly obliged to rise, and, in the course of the day, discharged twenty pints of water. johnson, being eased of his dropsy, began to entertain hopes that the vigour of his constitution was not entirely broken. for the sake of conversing with his friends, he established a conversation club, to meet on every wednesday evening; and, to serve a man whom he had known in mr. thrale's household for many years, the place was fixed at his house, in essex street, near the temple. to answer the malignant remarks of sir john hawkins, on this subject, were a wretched waste of time. professing to be johnson's friend, that biographer has raised more objections to his character, than all the enemies to that excellent man. sir john had a root of bitterness that "put rancours in the vessel of his peace." fielding, he says, was the inventor of a cant phrase, "goodness of heart, which means little more than the virtue of a horse or a dog." he should have known, that kind affections are the essence of virtue: they are the will of god implanted in our nature, to aid and strengthen moral obligation; they incite to action: a sense of benevolence is no less necessary than a sense of duty. good affections are an ornament, not only to an author, but to his writings. he who shows himself upon a cold scent for opportunities to bark and snarl throughout a volume of six hundred pages, may, if he will, pretend to moralise; but goodness of heart, or, to use that politer phrase, "the virtue of a horse or a dog," would redound more to his honour. but sir john is no more: our business is with johnson. the members of his club were respectable for their rank, their talents, and their literature. they attended with punctuality, till about midsummer, , when, with some appearance of health, johnson went into derbyshire, and thence to lichfield. while he was in that part of the world, his friends, in town, were labouring for his benefit. the air of a more southern climate, they thought, might prolong a valuable life. but a pension of three hundred pounds a year was a slender fund for a travelling valetudinarian, and it was not then known that he had saved a moderate sum of money. mr. boswell and sir joshua reynolds undertook to solicit the patronage of the chancellor. with lord thurlow, while he was at the bar, johnson was well acquainted. he was often heard to say, "thurlow is a man of such vigour of mind, that i never knew i was to meet him, but--i was going to say, i was afraid, but that would not be true, for i never was afraid of any man; but i never knew that i was to meet thurlow, but i knew i had something to encounter." the chancellor undertook to recommend johnson's case; but without success. to protract, if possible, the days of a man, whom he respected, he offered to advance the sum of five hundred pounds. being informed of this at lichfield, johnson wrote the following letter: "my lord,--after a long, and not inattentive observation of mankind, the generosity of your lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than gratitude. bounty, so liberally bestowed, i should gladly receive, if my condition made it necessary; for to such a mind who would not be proud to own his obligations? but it has pleased god to restore me to so great a measure of health, that, if i should now appropriate so much of a fortune destined to do good, i could not escape from myself the charge of advancing a false claim. my journey to the continent, though i once thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and i was very desirous that your lordship should be told it, by sir joshua reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for, if i grew much better, i should not be willing; if much worse, i should not be able to migrate. your lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but when i was told that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, i did not expect to hear of a refusal; yet, as i have had no long time to brood hopes, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been scarce a disappointment; and from your lordship's kindness i have received a benefit which only men, like you, are able to bestow. i shall now live _mihi carior_, with a higher opinion of my own merit. i am, my lord, your lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble servant, samuel johnson. september, ." we have, in this instance, the exertion of two congenial minds; one, with a generous impulse, relieving merit in distress; and the other, by gratitude and dignity of sentiment, rising to an equal elevation. it seems, however, that greatness of mind is not confined to greatness of rank. dr. brocklesby was not content to assist with his medical art; he resolved to minister to his patient's mind, and pluck from his memory the sorrow which the late refusal from a high quarter might occasion. to enable him to visit the south of france, in pursuit of health, he offered, from his own funds, an annuity of one hundred pounds, payable quarterly. this was a sweet oblivious antidote, but it was not accepted, for the reasons assigned to the chancellor. the proposal, however, will do honour to dr. brocklesby, as long as liberal sentiment shall be ranked among the social virtues. in the month of october, , we find dr. johnson corresponding with mr. nichols, the intelligent compiler of the gentleman's magazine, and, in the languor of sickness, still desirous to contribute all in his power to the advancement of science and useful knowledge. he says, in a letter to that gentleman, dated lichfield, october , that "he should be glad to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any information." he adds, "at ashbourne, where i had very little company, i had the luck to borrow mr. bowyer's life, a book, so full of contemporary history, that a literary man must find some of his old friends. i thought that i could, now and then, have told you some hints worth your notice: we, perhaps, may talk a life over. i hope we shall be much together. you must now be to me what you were before, and what dear mr. allen was besides. he was taken unexpectedly away, but, i think, he was a very good man. i have made very little progress in recovery. i am very weak, and very sleepless; but i live on and hope." in that languid condition he arrived, on the th of november, at his house in bolt court, there to end his days. he laboured with the dropsy and an asthma. he was attended by dr. heberden, dr. warren, dr. brocklesby, dr. butter, and mr. cruikshank, the eminent surgeon. eternity presented to his mind an awful prospect, and, with as much virtue as, perhaps, ever is the lot of man, he shuddered at the thought of his dissolution. his friends awakened the comfortable reflection of a well-spent life; and, as his end drew near, they had the satisfaction of seeing him composed, and even cheerful, insomuch that he was able, in the course of his restless nights, to make translations of greek epigrams from the anthologia; and to compose a latin epitaph for his father, his mother, and his brother nathaniel. he meditated, at the same time, a latin inscription to the memory of garrick; but his vigour was exhausted. his love of literature was a passion that stuck to his last sand. seven days before his death he wrote the following letter to his friend mr. nichols: "sir,--the late learned mr. swinton, of oxford, having one day remarked, that one man, meaning, i suppose, no man but himself, could assign all the parts of the ancient universal history to their proper authors, at the request of sir robert chambers, or myself, gave the account which i now transmit to you, in his own hand, being willing that of so great a work the history should be known, and that each writer should receive his due proportion of praise from posterity. i recommend to you to preserve this scrap of literary intelligence, in mr. swinton's own hand, or to deposit it in the museum[y], that the veracity of this account may never be doubted. i am, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. dec. , ." mr. swinton. the history of the carthaginians. --numidians. --mauritanians. --gaetulians. --garamantes. --melano-gaetulians. --nigritae. --cyrenaica. --marmarica. --regio syrtica. --turks, tartars, and moguls. --indians. --chinese. the dissertation on the peopling of america. the dissertation on the independency of the arabs. the cosmogony, and a small part of the history immediately following. by mr. sale. to the birth of abraham. chiefly by mr. shelvock. history of the jews, gauls, and spaniards. by mr. psalmanazai. xenophon's retreat. by the same. history of the persians, and the constantinopolitan empire. by dr. campbell. history of the romans. by mr. bower[z]. on the morning of december , dr. johnson requested to see mr. nichols. a few days before, he had borrowed some of the early volumes of the magazine, with a professed intention to point out the pieces which he had written in that collection. the books lay on the table, with many leaves doubled down, and, in particular, those which contained his share in the parliamentary debates. such was the goodness of johnson's heart, that he then declared, that "those debates were the only parts of his writings which gave him any compunction: but that, at the time he wrote them, he had no conception that he was imposing upon the world, though they were, frequently, written from very slender materials, and often from none at all, the mere coinage of his own imagination." he added, "that he never wrote any part of his work with equal velocity." "three columns of the magazine in an hour," he said, "was no uncommon effort; which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity. in one day, in particular, and that not a very long one, he wrote twelve pages, more in quantity than ever he wrote at any other time, except in the life of savage, of which forty-eight pages, in octavo, were the production of one long day, including a part of the night." in the course of the conversation, he asked whether any of the family of faden, the printer, were living. being told that the geographer, near charing cross, was faden's son, he said, after a short pause, "i borrowed a guinea of his father near thirty years ago; be so good as to take this, and pay it for me." wishing to discharge every duty, and every obligation, johnson recollected another debt of ten pounds, which he had borrowed from his friend, mr. hamilton, the printer, about twenty years before. he sent the money to mr. hamilton, at his house in bedford row, with an apology for the length of time. the reverend mr. strahan was the bearer of the message, about four or five days before johnson breathed his last. mr. sastres, whom dr. johnson esteemed and mentioned in his will, entered the room, during his illness. dr. johnson, as soon as he saw him, stretched forth his hand, and, in a tone of lamentation, called out, "jam moriturus!" but the love of life was still an active principle. feeling himself swelled with the dropsy, he conceived that, by incisions in his legs, the water might be discharged. mr. cruikshank apprehended that a mortification might be the consequence; but, to appease a distempered fancy, he gently lanced the surface. johnson cried out, "deeper, deeper! i want length of life, and you are afraid of giving me pain, which i do not value." on the th of december, the reverend mr. strahan drew his will, by which, after a few legacies, the residue, amounting to about fifteen hundred pounds, was bequeathed to frank, the black servant, formerly consigned to the testator by his friend dr. bathurst. the history of a death-bed is painful. mr. strahan informs us, that the strength of religion prevailed against the infirmity of nature; and his foreboding dread of the divine justice subsided into a pious trust, and humble hope of mercy, at the throne of grace. on monday, the th day of december, the last of his existence on this side the grave, the desire of life returned with all its former vehemence. he still imagined, that, by puncturing his legs, relief might be obtained. at eight in the morning he tried the experiment, but no water followed. in an hour or two after, he fell into a doze, and about seven in the evening expired without a groan. on the th of the month his remains, with due solemnities, and a numerous attendance of his friends, were buried in westminster abbey, near the foot of shakespeare's monument, and close to the grave of the late mr. garrick. the funeral service was read by his friend, dr. taylor. a black marble over his grave has the following inscription: samuel johnson, ll.d. obiit xiii die decembris, anno domini mdcclxxxiv. aetatis suae lxxv. if we now look back, as from an eminence, to view the scenes of life, and the literary labours in which dr. johnson was engaged, we may be able to delineate the features of the man, and to form an estimate of his genius. as a man, dr. johnson stands displayed in open daylight. nothing remains undiscovered. whatever he said is known; and without allowing him the usual privilege of hazarding sentiments, and advancing positions for mere amusement, or the pleasure of discussion, criticism has endeavoured to make him answerable for what, perhaps, he never seriously thought. his diary, which has been printed, discovers still more. we have before us the very heart of the man, with all his inward consciousness; and yet neither in the open paths of life, nor in his secret recesses, has any one vice been discovered. we see him reviewing every year of his life, and severely censuring himself, for not keeping resolutions, which morbid melancholy, and other bodily infirmities, rendered impracticable. we see him, for every little defect, imposing on himself voluntary penance, going through the day with only one cup of tea without milk, and to the last, amidst paroxysms and remissions of illness, forming plans of study and resolutions to amend his life[aa]. many of his scruples may be called weaknesses; but they are the weaknesses of a good, a pious, and most excellent man. his person, it is well known, was large and unwieldy. his nerves were affected by that disorder, for which, at two years of age, he was presented to the royal touch. his head shook, and involuntary motions made it uncertain that his legs and arms would, even at a tea-table, remain in their proper place. a person of lord chesterfield's delicacy might, in his company, be in a fever. he would, sometimes, of his own accord, do things inconsistent with the established modes of behaviour. sitting at table with the celebrated mrs. cholmondeley, who exerted herself to circulate the subscription for shakespeare, he took hold of her hand, in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering at the delicacy and whiteness, till, with a smile, she asked, "will he give it to me again, when he has done with it?" the exteriors of politeness did not belong to johnson. even that civility, which proceeds, or ought to proceed, from the mind, was sometimes violated. his morbid melancholy had an effect on his temper; his passions were irritable; and the pride of science, as well as of a fierce independent spirit, inflamed him, on some occasions, above all bounds of moderation. though not in the shade of academic bowers, he led a scholastic life; and the habit of pronouncing decisions to his friends and visitors, gave him a dictatorial manner, which was much enforced by a voice naturally loud, and often overstretched. metaphysical discussion, moral theory, systems of religion, and anecdotes of literature, were his favourite topics. general history had little of his regard. biography was his delight. the proper study of mankind is man. sooner than hear of the punic war, he would be rude to the person that introduced the subject. johnson was born a logician; one of those, to whom only books of logic are said to be of use. in consequence of his skill in that art, he loved argumentation. no man thought more profoundly, nor with such acute discernment. a fallacy could not stand before him; it was sure to be refuted by strength of reasoning, and a precision, both in idea and expression, almost unequalled. when he chose, by apt illustration, to place the argument of his adversary in a ludicrous light, one was almost inclined to think ridicule the test of truth. he was surprised to be told, but it is certainly true, that, with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents. that he often argued for the sake of triumph over his adversary, cannot be dissembled. dr. rose, of chiswick, has been heard to tell of a friend of his, who thanked him for introducing him to dr. johnson, as he had been convinced, in the course of a long dispute, that an opinion, which he had embraced as a settled truth, was no better than a vulgar error. this being reported to johnson, "nay," said he, "do not let him be thankful, for he was right, and i was wrong." like his uncle andrew, in the ring at smithfield, johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered. notwithstanding all his piety, self-government or the command of his passions in conversation, does not seem to have been among his attainments. whenever he thought the contention was for superiority, he has been known to break out with violence, and even ferocity. when the fray was over, he generally softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that no animosity should be left rankling in the breast of his antagonist. of this defect he seems to have been conscious. in a letter to mrs. thrale, he says, "poor baretti! do not quarrel with him; to neglect him a little will be sufficient. he means only to be frank and manly and independent, and, perhaps, as you say, a little wise. to be frank, he thinks, is to be cynical; and to be independent, is to be rude. forgive him, dearest lady, the rather, because of his misbehaviour, i am afraid, he learned part of me. i hope to set him, hereafter, a better example." for his own intolerant and over-bearing spirit he apologized, by observing, that it had done some good; obscenity and impiety were repressed in his company. it was late in life, before he had the habit of mixing, otherwise than occasionally, with polite company. at mr. thrale's he saw a constant succession of well-accomplished visiters. in that society he began to wear off the rugged points of his own character. he saw the advantages of mutual civility, and endeavoured to profit by the models before him. he aimed at what has been called, by swift, the "lesser morals," and by cicero, "minores virtutes." his endeavour, though new and late, gave pleasure to all his acquaintance. men were glad to see that he was willing to be communicative on equal terms and reciprocal complacence. the time was then expected, when he was to cease being what george garrick, brother to the celebrated actor, called him, the first time he heard him converse, "a tremendous companion." he certainly wished to be polite, and even thought himself so; but his civility still retained something uncouth and harsh. his manners took a milder tone, but the endeavour was too palpably seen. he laboured even in trifles. he was a giant gaining a purchase to lift a feather. it is observed, by the younger pliny, that "in the confines of virtue and great qualities, there are, generally, vices of an opposite nature." in dr. johnson not one ingredient can take the name of vice. from his attainments in literature, grew the pride of knowledge; and from his powers of reasoning, the love of disputation and the vain glory of superior vigour.--his piety, in some instances, bordered on superstition. he was willing to believe in preternatural agency, and thought it not more strange, that there should be evil spirits than evil men. even the question about second sight held him in suspense. "second sight," mr. pennant tells us, "is a power of seeing images impressed on the organs of sight, by the power of fancy; or on the fancy, by the disordered spirits operating on the mind. it is the faculty of seeing spectres or visions, which represent an event actually passing at a distance, or likely to happen at a future day. in , a gentleman, the last who was supposed to be possessed of this faculty, had a boat at sea, in a tempestuous night, and, being anxious for his freight, suddenly started up, and said his men would be drowned, for he had seen them pass before him with wet garments and dropping locks. the event corresponded with his disordered fancy. and thus," continues mr. pennant, "a distempered imagination, clouded with anxiety, may make an impression on the spirits; as persons, restless, and troubled with indignation, see various forms and figures, while they lie awake in bed." this is what dr. johnson was not willing to reject. he wished for some positive proof of communications with another world. his benevolence embraced the whole race of man, and yet was tinctured with particular prejudices. he was pleased with the minister in the isle of skie, and loved him so much, that he began to wish him not a presbyterian. to that body of dissenters his zeal for the established church, made him, in some degree, an adversary; and his attachment to a mixed and limited monarchy, led him to declare open war against what he called a sullen republican. he would rather praise a man of oxford than of cambridge. he disliked a whig, and loved a tory. these were the shades of his character, which it has been the business of certain party-writers to represent in the darkest colours. since virtue, or moral goodness, consists in a just conformity of our actions to the relations, in which we stand to the supreme being and to our fellow-creatures, where shall we find a man who has been, or endeavoured to be, more diligent in the discharge of those essential duties? his first prayer was composed in ; he continued those fervent ejaculations of piety to the end of his life. in his meditations we see him scrutinizing himself with severity, and aiming at perfection unattainable by man. his duty to his neighbour consisted in universal benevolence, and a constant aim at the production of happiness. who was more sincere and steady in his friendships? it has been said, that there was no real affection between him and garrick. on the part of the latter, there might be some corrosions of jealousy. the character of prospero, in the rambler, no. , was, beyond all question, occasioned by garrick's ostentatious display of furniture and dresden china. it was surely fair to take, from this incident, a hint for a moral essay; and, though no more was intended, garrick, we are told, remembered it with uneasiness. he was also hurt, that his lichfield friend did not think so highly of his dramatic art, as the rest of the world. the fact was, johnson could not see the passions, as they rose, and chased one another, in the varied features of that expressive face; and, by his own manner of reciting verses, which was wonderfully impressive, he plainly showed, that he thought, there was too much of artificial tone and measured cadence, in the declamation of the theatre. the present writer well remembers being in conversation with dr. johnson, near the side of the scenes, during the tragedy of king lear: when garrick came off the stage, he said, "you two talk so loud, you destroy all my feelings." "prithee," replied johnson, "do not talk of feelings, punch has no feelings." this seems to have been his settled opinion; admirable as garrick's imitation of nature always was, johnson thought it no better than mere mimickry. yet, it is certain, that he esteemed and loved garrick; that he dwelt with pleasure on his praise; and used to declare, that he deserved his great success, because, on all applications for charity, he gave more than was asked. after garrick's death, he never talked of him, without a tear in his eye. he offered, if mrs. garrick would desire it of him, to be the editor of his works, and the historian of his life[bb]. it has been mentioned, that, on his death-bed, he thought of writing a latin inscription to the memory of his friend. numbers are still living who know these facts, and still remember, with gratitude, the friendship which he showed to them, with unaltered affection, for a number of years. his humanity and generosity, in proportion to his slender income, were unbounded. it has been truly said, that the lame, the blind, and the sorrowful, found, in his house, a sure retreat. a strict adherence to truth he considered as a sacred obligation, insomuch that, in relating the most minute anecdote, he would not allow himself the smallest addition to embellish his story. the late mr. tyers, who knew dr. johnson intimately, observed, "that he always talked, as if he was talking upon oath." after a long acquaintance with this excellent man, and an attentive retrospect to his whole conduct, such is the light in which he appears to the writer of this essay. the following lines of horace, may be deemed his picture in miniature: "iracundior est paulo? minus aptus acutis naribus horum hominum? rideri possit, eo quod rusticius tonso toga defluit, et male laxus in pede calceus haeret? at est bonus, ut melior vir non alius quisquam: at tibi amicus: at ingenium ingens inculto latet hoc sub corpore." "your friend is passionate, perhaps unfit for the brisk petulance of modern wit. his hair ill-cut, his robe, that awkward flows, or his large shoes, to raillery expose the man you love; yet is he not possess'd of virtues, with which very few are blest? while underneath this rude, uncouth disguise, a genius of extensive knowledge lies." francis's hor. book i. sat. . it remains to give a review of johnson's works; and this, it is imagined, will not be unwelcome to the reader. like milton and addison, he seems to have been fond of his latin poetry. those compositions show, that he was an early scholar; but his verses have not the graceful ease, that gave so much suavity to the poems of addison. the translation of the messiah labours under two disadvantages: it is first to be compared with pope's inimitable performance, and afterwards with the pollio of virgil. it may appear trifling to remark, that he has made the letter _o_, in the word _virgo_, long and short in the same line: "virgo, virgo parit." but the translation has great merit, and some admirable lines. in the odes there is a sweet flexibility, particularly--to his worthy friend dr. lawrence; on himself at the theatre, march , ; the ode in the isle of skie; and that to mrs. thrale, from the same place. his english poetry is such as leaves room to think, if he had devoted himself to the muses, that he would have been the rival of pope. his first production, in this kind, was london, a poem in imitation of the third satire of juvenal. the vices of the metropolis are placed in the room of ancient manners. the author had heated his mind with the ardour of juvenal, and, having the skill to polish his numbers, he became a sharp accuser of the times. the vanity of human wishes, is an imitation of the tenth satire of the same author. though it is translated by dryden, johnson's imitation approaches nearest to the spirit of the original. the subject is taken from the alcibiades of plato, and has an intermixture of the sentiments of socrates, concerning the object of prayers offered up to the deity. the general proposition is, that good and evil are so little understood by mankind, that their wishes, when granted, are always destructive. this is exemplified in a variety of instances, such as riches, state-preferment, eloquence, military glory, long life, and the advantages of form and beauty. juvenal's conclusion is worthy of a christian poet, and such a pen as johnson's. "let us," he says, "leave it to the gods to judge what is fittest for us. man is dearer to his creator than to himself. if we must pray for special favour, let it be for a sound mind in a sound body. let us pray for fortitude, that we may think the labours of hercules, and all his sufferings, preferable to a life of luxury, and the soft repose of sardanapalus. this is a blessing within the reach of every man; this we can give ourselves. it is virtue, and virtue only, that can make us happy." in the translation, the zeal of the christian conspired with the warmth and energy of the poet; but juvenal is not eclipsed. for the various characters in the original, the reader is pleased, in the english poem, to meet with cardinal wolsey, buckingham stabbed by felton, lord strafford, clarendon, charles the twelfth of sweden; and for tully and demosthenes, lydiat, galileo, and archbishop laud. it is owing to johnson's delight in biography, that the name of lydiat is called forth from obscurity. it may, therefore, not be useless to tell, that lydiat was a learned divine and mathematician in the beginning of the last century. he attacked the doctrine of aristotle and scaliger, and wrote a number of sermons on the harmony of the evangelists. with all his merit, he lay in the prison of bocardo, at oxford, till bishop usher, laud, and others, paid his debts. he petitioned charles the first to be sent to ethiopia, to procure manuscripts. having spoken in favour of monarchy and bishops, he was plundered by the puritans, and twice carried away, a prisoner, from his rectory. he died, very poor, in . the tragedy of irene is founded on a passage in knolles's history of the turks; an author highly commended in the rambler, no. . an incident in the life of mahomet the great, first emperor of the turks, is the hinge on which the fable is made to move. the substance of the story is shortly this: in , mahomet laid siege to constantinople, and having reduced the place, became enamoured of a fair greek, whose name was irene. the sultan invited her to embrace the law of the prophet, and to grace his throne. enraged at this intended marriage, the janizaries formed a conspiracy to dethrone the emperor. to avert the impending danger, mahomet, in a full assembly of the grandees, "catching with one hand," as knolles relates it, "the fair greek by the hair of her head, and drawing his falchion with the other, he, at one blow, struck off her head, to the great terror of them all; and, having so done, said unto them: 'now by this, judge whether your emperor is able to bridle his affections or not.'" the story is simple, and it remained for the author to amplify it, with proper episodes, and give it complication and variety. the catastrophe is changed, and horror gives place to terror and pity. but, after all, the fable is cold and languid. there is not, throughout the piece, a single situation to excite curiosity, and raise a conflict of passions. the diction is nervous, rich, and elegant; but splendid language, and melodious numbers, will make a fine poem--not a tragedy. the sentiments are beautiful, always happily expressed, but seldom appropriated to the character, and generally too philosophic. what johnson has said of the tragedy of cato, may be applied to irene: "it is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama; rather a succession of just sentiments, in elegant language, than a representation of natural affections. nothing excites or assuages emotion. the events are expected without solicitude, and are remembered without joy or sorrow. of the agents we have no care; we consider not what they are doing, nor what they are suffering; we wish only to know, what they have to say. it is unaffecting elegance, and chill philosophy." the following speech, in the mouth of a turk, who is supposed to have heard of the british constitution, has been often selected from the numberless beauties with which irene abounds: "if there be any land, as fame reports, where common laws restrain the prince and subject; a happy land, where circulating power flows through each member of th' embodied state, sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, her grateful sons shine bright with ev'ry virtue; untainted with the lust of innovation; sure, all unite to hold her league of rule, unbroken, as the sacred chain of nature, that links the jarring elements in peace." these are british sentiments. above forty years ago, they found an echo in the breast of applauding audiences; and to this hour they are the voice of the people, in defiance of the metaphysics, and the new lights of certain politicians, who would gladly find their private advantage in the disasters of their country; a race of men, "quibus nulla ex honesto spes." the prologue to irene is written with elegance, and, in a peculiar style, shows the literary pride and lofty spirit of the author. the epilogue, we are told, in a late publication, was written by sir william yonge. this is a new discovery, but by no means probable. when the appendages to a dramatic performance are not assigned to a friend, or an unknown hand, or a person of fashion, they are always supposed to be written by the author of the play. it is to be wished, however, that the epilogue, in question, could be transferred to any other writer. it is the worst jeu d'esprit that ever fell from johnson's pen[cc]. an account of the various pieces contained in this edition, such as miscellaneous tracts, and philological dissertations, would lead beyond the intended limits of this essay. it will suffice to say, that they are the productions of a man, who never wanted decorations of language, and always taught his reader to think. the life of the late king of prussia, as far as it extends, is a model of the biographical style. the review of the origin of evil was, perhaps, written with asperity; but the angry epitaph which it provoked from soame jenyns, was an ill-timed resentment, unworthy of the genius of that amiable author. the rambler may be considered, as johnson's great work. it was the basis of that high reputation, which went on increasing to the end of his days. the circulation of those periodical essays was not, at first, equal to their merit. they had not, like the spectators, the art of charming by variety; and, indeed, how could it be expected? the wits of queen anne's reign sent their contributions to the spectator; and johnson stood alone. a stagecoach, says sir richard steele, must go forward on stated days, whether there are passengers or not. so it was with the rambler, every tuesday and saturday, for two years. in this collection johnson is the great moral teacher of his countrymen; his essays form a body of ethics; the observations on life and manners, are acute and instructive; and the papers, professedly critical, serve to promote the cause of literature. it must, however, be acknowledged, that a settled gloom hangs over the author's mind; and all the essays, except eight or ten, coming from the same fountain-head, no wonder that they have the raciness of the soil from which they sprang. of this uniformity johnson was sensible. he used to say, that if he had joined a friend or two, who would have been able to intermix papers of a sprightly turn, the collection would have been more miscellaneous, and, by consequence, more agreeable to the generality of readers. this he used to illustrate by repeating two beautiful stanzas from his own ode to cave, or sylvanus urban: "non ulla musis pagina gratior, quam quae severis ludicra jungere novit, fatigatamque nugis utilibus recreare mentem. texente nymphis serta lycoride, rosae ruborem sic viola adjuvat iramista, sic iris refulget aethereis variata fucis." it is remarkable, that the pomp of diction, which has been objected to johnson, was first assumed in the rambler. his dictionary was going on at the same time, and, in the course of that work, as he grew familiar with technical and scholastic words, he thought that the bulk of his readers were equally learned; or, at least, would admire the splendour and dignity of the style. and yet it is well known, that he praised, in cowley, the ease and unaffected structure of the sentences. cowley may be placed at the head of those who cultivated a clear and natural style. dryden, tillotson, and sir william temple followed. addison, swift, and pope, with more correctness, carried our language well nigh to perfection. of addison, johnson was used to say, "he is the raphael of essay writers." how he differed so widely from such elegant models, is a problem not to be solved, unless it be true, that he took an early tincture from the writers of the last century, particularly sir thomas browne. hence the peculiarities of his style, new combinations, sentences of an unusual structure, and words derived from the learned languages. his own account of the matter is: "when common words were less pleasing to the ear, or less distinct in their signification, i familiarized the terms of philosophy, by applying them to popular ideas." but he forgot the observation of dryden: "if too many foreign words are poured in upon us, it looks, as if they were designed, not to assist the natives, but to conquer them." there is, it must be admitted, a swell of language, often out of all proportion to the sentiment; but there is, in general, a fulness of mind, and the thought seems to expand with the sound of the words. determined to discard colloquial barbarisms and licentious idioms, he forgot the elegant simplicity that distinguishes the writings of addison. he had, what locke calls, a round-about view of his subject; and, though he never was tainted, like many modern wits, with the ambition of shining in paradox, he may be fairly called an original thinker. his reading was extensive. he treasured in his mind whatever was worthy of notice, but he added to it from his own meditation. he collected, "quae reconderet, auetaque promeret." addison was not so profound a thinker. he was "born to write, converse, and live with ease;" and he found an early patron in lord somers. he depended, however, more upon a fine taste than the vigour of his mind. his latin poetry shows, that he relished, with a just selection, all the refined and delicate beauties of the roman classics; and, when he cultivated his native language, no wonder that he formed that graceful style, which has been so justly admired; simple, yet elegant; adorned, yet never over-wrought; rich in allusion, yet pure and perspicuous; correct, without labour; and though, sometimes, deficient in strength, yet always musical. his essays, in general, are on the surface of life; if ever original, it was in pieces of humour. sir roger de coverly, and the tory fox-hunter, need not to be mentioned. johnson had a fund of humour, but he did not know it; nor was he willing to descend to the familiar idiom, and the variety of diction, which that mode of composition required. the letter, in the rambler, no. , from a young girl that wants a place, will illustrate this observation. addison possessed an unclouded imagination, alive to the first objects of nature and of art. he reaches the sublime without any apparent effort. when he tells us, "if we consider the fixed stars as so many oceans of flame, that are each of them attended with a different set of planets; if we still discover new firmaments, and new lights, that are sunk further in those unfathomable depths of ether; we are lost in a labyrinth of suns and worlds, and confounded with the magnificence and immensity of nature;" the ease, with which this passage rises to unaffected grandeur, is the secret charm that captivates the reader. johnson is always lofty; he seems, to use dryden's phrase, to be "o'erinform'd with meaning," and his words do not appear to himself adequate to his conception. he moves in state, and his periods are always harmonious. his oriental tales are in the true style of eastern magnificence, and yet none of them are so much admired, as the visions of mirza. in matters of criticism, johnson is never the echo of preceding writers. he thinks, and decides, for himself. if we except the essays on the pleasures of imagination, addison cannot be called a philosophical critic. his moral essays are beautiful; but in that province nothing can exceed the rambler, though johnson used to say, that the essay on "the burthens of mankind," (in the spectator, no. ,) was the most exquisite he had ever read. talking of himself, johnson said, "topham beauclerk has wit, and every thing comes from him with ease; but when i say a good thing, i seem to labour." when we compare him with addison, the contrast is still stronger: addison lends grace and ornament to truth; johnson gives it force and energy. addison makes virtue amiable; johnson represents it as an awful duty: addison insinuates himself with an air of modesty; johnson commands like a dictator; but a dictator in his splendid robes, not labouring at the plough: addison is the jupiter of virgil, with placid serenity talking to venus, "vultu, quo coelum tempestatesque serenat." johnson is jupiter tonans: he darts his lightning and rolls his thunder, in the cause of virtue and piety. the language seems to fall short of his ideas; he pours along, familiarizing the terms of philosophy, with bold inversions, and sonorous periods; but we may apply to him, what pope has said of homer: "it is the sentiment that swells and fills out the diction, which rises with it, and forms itself about it: like glass in the furnace, which grows to a greater magnitude, as the breath within is more powerful, and the heat more intense." it is not the design of this comparison to decide between these two eminent writers. in matters of taste every reader will choose for himself. johnson is always profound, and, of course, gives the fatigue of thinking. addison charms, while he instructs; and writing, as he always does, a pure, an elegant, and idiomatic style, he may be pronounced the safest model for imitation. the essays written by johnson in the adventurer, may be called a continuation of the rambler. the idler, in order to be consistent with the assumed character, is written with abated vigour, in a style of ease and unlaboured elegance. it is the odyssey, after the iliad. intense thinking would not become the idler. the first number presents a well-drawn portrait of an idler, and from that character no deviation could be made. accordingly, johnson forgets his austere manner, and plays us into sense. he still continues his lectures on human life, but he adverts to common occurrences, and is often content with the topic of the day. an advertisement in the beginning of the first volume informs us, that twelve entire essays were a contribution from different hands. one of these, no. , is the journal of a senior fellow, at cambridge, but, as johnson, being himself an original thinker, always revolted from servile imitation, he has printed the piece with an apology, importing, that the journal of a citizen, in the spectator, almost precluded the attempt of any subsequent writer. this account of the idler may be closed, after observing, that the author's mother being buried on the rd of january, , there is an admirable paper occasioned by that event, on saturday, the th of the same month, no. . the reader, if he pleases, may compare it with another fine paper in the rambler, no. , on the conviction that rushes on the mind at the bed of a dying friend. "rasselas," says sir john hawkins, "is a specimen of our language scarcely to be paralleled; it is written in a style refined to a degree of immaculate purity, and displays the whole force of turgid eloquence." one cannot but smile at this encomium. rasselas, is, undoubtedly, both elegant and sublime. it is a view of human life, displayed, it must be owned, in gloomy colours. the author's natural melancholy, depressed, at the time, by the approaching dissolution of his mother, darkened the picture. a tale, that should keep curiosity awake by the artifice of unexpected incidents, was not the design of a mind pregnant with better things. he, who reads the heads of the chapters, will find, that it is not a course of adventures that invites him forward, but a discussion of interesting questions; reflections on human life; the history of imlac, the man of learning; a dissertation upon poetry; the character of a wise and happy man, who discourses, with energy, on the government of the passions, and, on a sudden, when death deprives him of his daughter, forgets all his maxims of wisdom, and the eloquence that adorned them, yielding to the stroke of affliction, with all the vehemence of the bitterest anguish. it is by pictures of life, and profound moral reflection, that expectation is engaged, and gratified throughout the work. the history of the mad astronomer, who imagines that, for five years, he possessed the regulation of the weather, and that the sun passed, from tropic to tropic, by his direction, represents, in striking colours, the sad effects of a distempered imagination. it becomes the more affecting when we recollect, that it proceeds from one who lived in fear of the same dreadful visitation; from one who says emphatically: "of the uncertainties in our present state, the most dreadful and alarming is the uncertain continuance of reason." the inquiry into the cause of madness, and the dangerous prevalence of imagination, till, in time, some particular train of ideas fixes the attention, and the mind recurs constantly to the favourite conception, is carried on in a strain of acute observation; but it leaves us room to think, that the author was transcribing from his own apprehensions. the discourse on the nature of the soul, gives us all that philosophy knows, not without a tincture of superstition. it is remarkable, that the vanity of human pursuits was, about the same time, the subject that employed both johnson and voltaire; but candide is the work of a lively imagination; and rasselas, with all its splendour of eloquence, exhibits a gloomy picture. it should, however, be remembered, that the world has known the weeping, as well as the laughing philosopher. the dictionary does not properly fall within the province of this essay. the preface, however, will be found in this edition. he who reads the close of it, without acknowledging the force of the pathethic and sublime, must have more insensibility in his composition, than usually falls to the share of a man. the work itself, though, in some instances, abuse has been loud, and, in others, malice has endeavoured to undermine its fame, still remains the mount atlas of english literature. "though storms and tempests thunder on its brow, and oceans break their billows at its feet, it stands unmov'd, and glories in its height." that johnson was eminently qualified for the office of a commentator on shakespeare, no man can doubt; but it was an office which he never cordially embraced. the public expected more than he had diligence to perform; and yet his edition has been the ground, on which every subsequent commentator has chosen to build. one note, for its singularity, may be thought worthy of notice in this place. hamlet says, "for if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing carrion." in this warburton discovered the origin of evil. hamlet, he says, breaks off in the middle of the sentence; but the learned commentator knows what he was going to say, and, being unwilling to keep the secret, he goes on in a train of philosophical reasoning, that leaves the reader in astonishment. johnson, with true piety, adopts the fanciful hypothesis, declaring it to be a noble emendation, which almost sets the critic on a level with the author. the general observations at the end of the several plays, and the preface, will be found in this edition. the former, with great elegance and precision, give a summary view of each drama. the preface is a tract of great erudition and philosophical criticism. johnson's political pamphlets, whatever was his motive for writing them, whether gratitude for his pension, or the solicitation of men in power, did not support the cause for which they were undertaken. they are written in a style truly harmonious, and with his usual dignity of language. when it is said that he advanced positions repugnant to the "common rights of mankind," the virulence of party may be suspected. it is, perhaps, true, that in the clamour, raised throughout the kingdom, johnson overheated his mind; but he was a friend to the rights of man, and he was greatly superior to the littleness of spirit, that might incline him to advance what he did not think and firmly believe. in the false alarm, though many of the most eminent men in the kingdom concurred in petitions to the throne, yet johnson, having well surveyed the mass of the people, has given, with great humour, and no less truth, what may be called, "the birth, parentage, and education of a remonstrance." on the subject of falkland's islands, the fine dissuasive from too hastily involving the world in the calamities of war, must extort applause even from the party that wished, at that time, for scenes of tumult and commotion. it was in the same pamphlet, that johnson offered battle to junius, a writer, who, by the uncommon elegance of his style, charmed every reader, though his object was to inflame the nation in favour of a faction. junius fought in the dark; he saw his enemy, and had his full blow; while he himself remained safe in obscurity. "but let us not," said johnson, "mistake the venom of the shaft, for the vigour of the bow." the keen invective which he published, on that occasion, promised a paper war between two combatants, who knew the use of their weapons. a battle between them was as eagerly expected, as between mendoza and big ben. but junius, whatever was his reason, never returned to the field. he laid down his arms, and has, ever since, remained as secret as the man in the mask, in voltaire's history. the account of his journey to the hebrides, or western isles of scotland, is a model for such as shall, hereafter, relate their travels. the author did not visit that part of the world in the character of an antiquary, to amuse us with wonders taken from the dark and fabulous ages; nor, as a mathematician, to measure a degree, and settle the longitude and latitude of the several islands. those, who expected such information, expected what was never intended. "in every work regard the writer's end." johnson went to see men and manners, modes of life, and the progress of civilization. his remarks are so artfully blended with the rapidity and elegance of his narrative, that the reader is inclined to wish, as johnson did, with regard to gray, that "to travel, and to tell his travels, had been more of his employment." as to johnson's parliamentary debates, nothing, with propriety, can be said in this place. they are collected, in two volumes, by mr. stockdale, and the flow of eloquence which runs through the several speeches, is sufficiently known. it will not be useless to mention two more volumes, which may form a proper supplement to this edition. they contain a set of sermons, left for publication by john taylor, ll.d. the reverend mr. hayes, who ushered these discourses into the world, has not given them, as the composition of dr. taylor. all he could say for his departed friend was, that he left them, in silence, among his papers. mr. hayes knew them to be the production of a superior mind; and the writer of these memoirs owes it to the candour of that elegant scholar, that he is now warranted to give an additional proof of johnson's ardour in the cause of piety, and every moral duty. the last discourse in the collection was intended to be delivered by dr. taylor, at the funeral of johnson's wife; but that reverend gentleman declined the office, because, as he told mr. hayes, the praise of the deceased was too much amplified. he, who reads the piece, will find it a beautiful moral lesson, written with temper, and nowhere overcharged with ambitious ornaments. the rest of the discourses were the fund, which dr. taylor, from time to time, carried with him to his pulpit. he had the _largest bull_[dd] in england, and some of the best sermons. we come now to the lives of the poets, a work undertaken at the age of seventy, yet, the most brilliant, and, certainly, the most popular, of all our author's writings. for this performance he needed little preparation. attentive always to the history of letters, and, by his own natural bias, fond of biography, he was the more willing to embrace the proposition of the booksellers. he was versed in the whole body of english poetry, and his rules of criticism were settled with precision. the dissertation, in the life of cowley, on the metaphysical poets of the last century, has the attraction of novelty, as well as sound observation. the writers, who followed dr. donne, went in quest of something better than truth and nature. as sancho says, in don quixote, they wanted better bread than is made with wheat. they took pains to bewilder themselves, and were ingenious for no other purpose than to err. in johnson's review of cowley's works, false wit is detected in all its shapes, and the gothic taste for glittering conceits, and far-fetched allusions, is exploded, never, it is hoped, to revive again. an author who has published his observations on the life and writings of dr. johnson, speaking of the lives of the poets, says, "these compositions, abounding in strong and acute remark, and with many fine, and even sublime, passages, have, unquestionably, great merit; but, if they be regarded, merely as containing narrations of the lives, delineations of the characters, and strictures of the several authors, they are far from being always to be depended on." he adds: "the characters are sometimes partial, and there is, sometimes, too much malignity of misrepresentation, to which, perhaps, may be joined no inconsiderable portion of erroneous criticism." the several clauses of this censure deserve to be answered, as fully as the limits of this essay will permit. in the first place, the facts are related upon the best intelligence, and the best vouchers that could be gleaned, after a great lapse of time. probability was to be inferred from such materials, as could be procured, and no man better understood the nature of historical evidence than dr. johnson; no man was more religiously an observer of truth. if his history is any where defective, it must be imputed to the want of better information, and the errors of uncertain tradition. "ad nos vix tenuis famae perlabitur aura." if the strictures on the works of the various authors are not always satisfactory, and if erroneous criticism may sometimes be suspected, who can hope, that in matters of taste, all shall agree? the instances, in which the public mind has differed, from the positions advanced by the author, are few in number. it has been said, that justice has not been done to swift; that gay and prior are undervalued; and that gray has been harshly treated. this charge, perhaps, ought not to be disputed. johnson, it is well known, had conceived a prejudice against swift. his friends trembled for him, when he was writing that life, but were pleased, at last, to see it executed with temper and moderation. as to prior, it is probable that he gave his real opinion, but an opinion that will not be adopted by men of lively fancy. with regard to gray, when he condemns the apostrophe, in which father thames is desired to tell who drives the hoop, or tosses the ball, and then adds, that father thames had no better means of knowing than himself; when he compares the abrupt beginning of the first stanza of the bard, to the ballad of johnny armstrong, "is there ever a man in all scotland;" there are, perhaps, few friends of johnson, who would not wish to blot out both the passages. it may be questioned, whether the remarks on pope's essay on man can be received, without great caution. it has been already mentioned, that crousaz, a professor in switzerland, eminent for his treatise of logic, started up a professed enemy to that poem. johnson says, "his mind was one of those, in which philosophy and piety are happily united. he looked, with distrust, upon all metaphysical systems of theology, and was persuaded, that the positions of pope were intended to draw mankind away from revelation, and to represent the whole course of things, as a necessary concatenation of indissoluble fatality." this is not the place fur a controversy about the leibnitzian system. warburton, with all the powers of his large and comprehensive mind, published a vindication of pope; and yet johnson says, that, "in many passages, a religious eye may easily discover expressions not very favourable to morals, or to liberty." this sentence is severe, and, perhaps, dogmatical. crousaz wrote an examen of the essay on man, and, afterwards, a commentary on every remarkable passage; and, though it now appears, that mrs. elizabeth carter translated the foreign critic, yet it is certain, that johnson encouraged the work, and, perhaps, imbibed those early prejudices, which adhered to him to the end of his life. he shuddered at the idea of irreligion. hence, we are told, in the life of pope, "never were penury of knowledge, and vulgarity of sentiment, so happily disguised; pope, in the chair of wisdom, tells much that every man knows, and much that he did not know himself; and gives us comfort in the position, that though man's a fool, yet god is wise; that human advantages are unstable; that our true honour is, not to have a great part, but to act it well; that virtue only is our own, and that happiness is always in our power." the reader, when he meets all this in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his mother and his nurse. but, may it not be said, that every system of ethics must, or ought, to terminate, in plain and general maxims for the use of life? and, though in such anxioms no discovery is made, does not the beauty of the moral theory consist in the premises, and the chain of reasoning that leads to the conclusion? may not truth, as johnson himself says, be conveyed to the mind by a new train of intermediate images? pope's doctrine, about the ruling passion, does not seem to be refuted, though it is called, in harsh terms, pernicious, as well as false, tending to establish a kind of moral predestination, or overruling principle, which cannot be resisted. but johnson was too easily alarmed in the cause of religion. organized as the human race is, individuals have different inlets of perception, different powers of mind, and different sensations of pleasure and pain. "all spread their charms, but charm not all alike, on different senses different objects strike: hence different passions more or less inflame, as strong or weak the organs of the frame. and hence one master-passion in the breast, like aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest." brumoy says, pascal, from his infancy, felt himself a geometrician; and vandyke, in like manner, was a painter. shakespeare, who, of all poets, had the deepest insight into human nature, was aware of a prevailing bias in the operations of every mind. by him we are told, "masterless passion sways us to the mood of what it likes or loathes." it remains to inquire, whether, in the lives before us, the characters are partial, and too often drawn with malignity of misrepresentation? to prove this, it is alleged, that johnson has misrepresented the circumstances relative to the translation of the first iliad, and maliciously ascribed that performance to addison, instead of tickell, with too much reliance on the testimony of pope, taken from the account in the papers left by mr. spence. for a refutation of the fallacy imputed to addison, we are referred to a note in the biographia britannica, written by the late judge blackstone, who, it is said, examined the whole matter with accuracy, and found, that the first regular statement of the accusation against addison, was published by ruffhead, in his life of pope, from the materials which he received from dr. warburton. but, with all due deference to the learned judge, whose talents deserve all praise, this account is by no means accurate. sir richard steele, in a dedication of the comedy of the drummer, to mr. congreve, gave the first insight into that business. he says, in a style of anger and resentment: "if that gentleman (mr. tickell) thinks himself injured, i will allow i have wronged him upon this issue, that, if the reputed translator of the first book of homer shall please to give us another book, there shall appear another good judge in poetry, besides mr. alexander pope, who shall like it." the authority of steele outweighs all opinions, founded on vain conjecture, and, indeed, seems to be decisive, since we do not find that tickell, though warmly pressed, thought proper to vindicate himself. but the grand proof of johnson's malignity, is the manner in which he has treated the character and conduct of milton. to enforce this charge has wearied sophistry, and exhausted the invention of a party. what they cannot deny, they palliate; what they cannot prove, they say is probable. but why all this rage against dr. johnson? addison, before him, had said of milton: "oh! had the poet ne'er profan'd his pen, to varnish o'er the guilt of faithless men!" and had not johnson an equal right to avow his sentiments? do his enemies claim a privilege to abuse whatever is valuable to englishmen, either in church or state? and must the liberty of unlicensed printing be denied to the friends of the british constitution? it is unnecessary to pursue the argument through all its artifices, since, dismantled of ornament and seducing language, the plain truth may be stated in a narrow compass. johnson knew that milton was a republican: he says, "an acrimonious and surly republican, for which it is not known that he gave any better reason than, that a popular government was the most frugal; for the trappings of a monarchy would set up an ordinary commonwealth." johnson knew that milton talked aloud "of the danger of readmitting kingship in this nation;" and when milton adds, "that a commonwealth was commended, or rather enjoined, by our saviour himself, to all christians, not without a remarkable disallowance, and the brand of gentilism upon kingship," johnson thought him no better than a wild enthusiast. he knew, as well as milton, "that the happiness of a nation must needs be firmest and certainest in a full and free council of their own electing, where no single person, but reason only, sways;" but the example of all the republicks, recorded in the annals of mankind, gave him no room to hope, that reason only would be heard. he knew, that the republican form of government, having little or no complication, and no consonance of parts, by a nice mechanism forming a regular whole, was too simple to be beautiful, even in theory. in practice it, perhaps, never existed. in its most flourishing state, at athens, rome, and carthage, it was a constant scene of tumult and commotion. from the mischiefs of a wild democracy, the progress has ever been to the dominion of an aristocracy; and the word aristocracy, fatally includes the boldest and most turbulent citizens, who rise by their crimes, and call themselves the best men in the state. by intrigue, by cabal, and faction, a pernicious oligarchy is sure to succeed, and end, at last, in the tyranny of a single ruler. tacitus, the great master of political wisdom, saw, under the mixed authority of king, nobles, and people, a better form of government than milton's boasted republick; and what tacitus admired in theory, but despaired of enjoying, johnson saw established in this country. he knew that it had been overturned by the rage of frantic men; but he knew that, after the iron rod of cromwell's usurpation, the constitution was once more restored to its first principles. monarchy was established, and this country was regenerated. it was regenerated a second time, at the revolution: the rights of men were then defined, and the blessings of good order, and civil liberty, have been ever since diffused through the whole community. the peace and happiness of society were what dr. johnson had at heart. he knew that milton called his defence of the regicides, a defence of the people of england; but, however glossed and varnished, he thought it an apology for murder. had the men, who, under a show of liberty, brought their king to the scaffold, proved, by their subsequent conduct, that the public good inspired their actions, the end might have given some sanction to the means; but usurpation and slavery followed. milton undertook the office of secretary, under the despotic power of cromwell, offering the incense of adulation to his master, with the titles of "director of public councils, the leader of unconquered armies, the father of his country." milton declared, at the same time, "that nothing is more pleasing to god, or more agreeable to reason, than that the highest mind should have the sovereign power." in this strain of servile flattery, milton gives us the right divine of tyrants. but it seems, in the same piece, he exhorts cromwell "not to desert those great principles of liberty which he had professed to espouse; for, it would be a grievous enormity, if, after having successfully opposed tyranny, he should himself act the part of a tyrant, and betray the cause that he had defended." this desertion of every honest principle the advocate for liberty lived to see. cromwell acted the tyrant; and, with vile hypocrisy, told the people, that he had consulted the lord, and the lord would have it so. milton took an under part in the tragedy. did that become the defender of the people of england? brutus saw his country enslaved; he struck the blow for freedom, and he died with honour in the cause. had he lived to be a secretary under tiberius, what would now be said of his memory? but still, it seems, the prostitution with which milton is charged, since it cannot be defended, is to be retorted on the character of johnson. for this purpose, a book has been published, called remarks on dr. johnson's life of milton; to which are added, milton's tractate of education, and areopagitica. in this laboured tract we are told, "there is one performance, ascribed to the pen of the doctor, where the prostitution is of so singular a nature, that it would be difficult to select an adequate motive for it, out of the mountainous heap of conjectural causes of human passions, or human caprice. it is the speech of the late unhappy dr. william dodd, when he was about to hear the sentence of the law pronounced upon him, in consequence of an indictment for forgery. the voice of the public has given the honour of manufacturing this speech to dr. johnson; and the style, and configuration of the speech itself, confirm the imputation. but it is hardly possible to divine what could be his motive for accepting the office. a man, to express the precise state of mind of another, about to be destined to an ignominious death, for a capital crime, should, one would imagine, have some consciousness, that he himself had incurred some guilt of the same kind." in all the schools of sophistry, is there to be found so vile an argument? in the purlieus of grub street, is there such another mouthful of dirt? in the whole quiver of malice, is there so envenomed a shaft? after this, it is to be hoped, that a certain class of men will talk no more of johnson's malignity. the last apology for milton is, that he acted according to his principles. but johnson thought those principles detestable; pernicious to the constitution, in church and state, destructive of the peace of society, and hostile to the great fabric of civil policy, which the wisdom of ages has taught every briton to revere, to love, and cherish. he reckoned milton in that class of men, of whom the roman historian says, when they want, by a sudden convulsion, to overturn the government, they roar and clamour for liberty; if they succeed, they destroy liberty itself: "ut imperium evertant, libertatem praeferunt; si perverterint, libertatem ipsam aggredientur." such were the sentiments of dr. johnson; and it may be asked, in the language of bolingbroke, "are these sentiments, which any man, who is born a briton, in any circumstances, in any situation, ought to be ashamed, or afraid to avow?" johnson has done ample justice to milton's poetry: the criticism on paradise lost is a sublime composition. had he thought the author as good and pious a citizen as dr. watts, he would have been ready, notwithstanding his nonconformity, to do equal honour to the memory of the man. it is now time to close this essay, which the author fears has been drawn too much into length. in the progress of the work, feeble as it may be, he thought himself performing the last human office to the memory of a friend, whom he loved, esteemed, and honoured: "his saltern accumulem donis, et fungar inani munere."-- the author of these memoirs has been anxious to give the features of the man, and the true character of the author. he has not suffered the hand of partiality to colour his excellencies with too much warmth; nor has he endeavoured to throw his singularities too much into the shade. dr. johnson's failings may well be forgiven, for the sake of his virtues. his defects were spots in the sun. his piety, his kind affections, and the goodness of his heart, present an example worthy of imitation. his works still remain a monument of genius and of learning. had he written nothing but what is contained in this edition, the quantity shows a life spent in study and meditation. if to this be added, the labour of his dictionary, and other various productions, it may be fairly allowed, as he used to say of himself, that he has written his share. in the volumes here presented to the public the reader will find a perpetual source of pleasure and instruction. with due precautions, authors may learn to grace their style with elegance, harmony, and precision; they may be taught to think with vigour and perspicuity; and, to crown the whole, by a diligent attention to these books, all may advance in virtue. footnotes [a] boswell's life of johnson, vol. ii. p. , to. edit. [b] this appears in a note to johnson's diary, prefixed to the first of his prayers. after the alteration of the style, he kept his birthday on the th of september, and it is accordingly marked september / [c] the impression which this interview left on johnson's fancy, is recorded by mrs. piozzi in her anecdotes; and johnson's description of it is picturesque and poetical. being asked if he could remember queen anne, "he had (he said) a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood." --ed. [d] the entry of this is remarkable for his early resolution to preserve through life a fair and upright character. " , junii . undecim aureos deposui, quo die, quidquid ante matris funus (quod serum sit precor) de paternis bonis sperare licet, viginti scilicet libras, accepi. usque adeo mihi mea fortuna fingenda est. interea, ne paupertate vires animi languescant, nec in flagitia egestas abigat, cavendum." [e] this, mr. bruce, the late traveller, avers to be a downright falsehood. he says, a deep pool of water reaches to the very foot of the rock; and, allowing that there was a seat or bench (which there is not) in the middle of the pool, it is absolutely impossible, by any exertion of human strength, to have arrived at it. but it may be asked, can mr. bruce say what was the face of the country in the year , when lobo saw the magnificent sight which he has described? mr. bruce's pool of water may have been formed since; and lobo, perhaps, was content to sit down without a bench. [f] after comparing this description with that lately given by mr. bruce, the reader will judge, whether lobo is to lose the honour of having been at the head of the nile, near two centuries before any other european traveller. [g] see the gentleman's magazine for , p. . [h] it is added to the present edition of dr. johnson's works; vol. v. p. . [i] afterwards earl of roslin. he died january , . [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [j]] [k] mr. boswell says, "the simple truth i had from johnson himself. 'sir, he was impertinent to me, and i beat him. but it was not in his shop: it was in my own chamber.'" [l] dr. johnson denies the whole of this story. see boswell's life, vol. i. p. . oct. edit. . [m] letter . [n] see gent. mag. vol. lxxi. p. . [o] it has since been paralleled, in the case of the shakespeare mss. by a yet more vile impostor. [p] life of johnson, vol. i. p. . to. edit. [q] see gentleman's magazine for nov. and dec. . [r] see gentleman's magazine for dec. , p. . [s] this work was not published until the year , when dr. johnson's dictionary was fully established in reputation. [t] see scaliger's epigram on this subject, (communicated, without doubt, by dr. johnson,) gent. mag. , p. . [u] see johnson's epitaph on him, in this volume, p. . [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [v] or footnote [w]] [x] mr. boswell's account of this introduction is very different from the above. see his life of johnson, vol. i. p. . vo. edit. . [y] it is there deposited. [z] before this authentic communication, mr. nichols had given, in the volume of the gentleman's magazine, for , p. , the following account of the universal history. the proposals were published october , ; and the authors of the first seven volumes were, vol. i. mr. sale, translator of the koran. iv. the same as vol. iii. ii. george psalmanazar. v. mr. bower. iii. george psalmanazar. vi. mr. bower. archibald bower. rev. john swinton. captain shelvock. vii. mr. swinton. dr. campbell. mr. bower. [aa] on the subject of voluntary penance, see the rambler, no. . [bb] it is to be regretted, that he was not encouraged in this undertaking. the assistance, however, which he gave to davies, in writing the life of garrick, has been acknowledged, in general terms, by that writer, and, from the evidence of style, appears to have been very considerable. [cc] dr. johnson informed mr. boswell, that this epilogue was written by sir william yonge. see boswell's life of johnson, vol. i. p. -- . vo. edit. . the internal evidence, that it is not johnson's, is very strong, particularly in the line, "but how the devil," &c. [dd] see johnson's letters from ashbourne, in this volume. poems. prefatory observations to the imitations of the third and tenth satires of juvenal. we will not examine here johnson's poetical merits, since that discussion will more properly introduce his lives of the poets, but merely offer some few biographical remarks. in the poem of london, mr. boswell was of opinion, that johnson did not allude to savage, under the name of thales, and adds, for his reason, that johnson was not so much as acquainted with savage when he _wrote_ his london. about a month, however, before he _published_ this poem, he addressed the following lines to him, through the gentleman's magazine, for april, . ad ricardum savage. humanani studium generis cui pectore fervet o colat humanum te, foveatque, genus! we cannot certainly infer, from this, an intimacy with savage, but it is more probable, that these lines flowed from a feeling of private friendship, than mere admiration of an author, in a public point of view; and they, at any rate, give credibility to the general opinion, that, under the name of thales, the poet referred to the author of the wanderer, who was, at this time, preparing for his retreat to wales, whither he actually went in the ensuing year. the names of lydiat, vane, and sedley, which are brought forward in the poem on the vanity of human wishes, as examples of inefficiency of either learning or beauty, to shield their possessors from distress, have exercised inquiry. the following is the best account of them we can collect: thomas lydiat was born in . after passing through the studies of the university of oxford, with applause, he was elected fellow of new college; but his defective utterance induced him to resign his fellowship, in order to avoid entering holy orders, and to live upon a small patrimony. he was highly esteemed by the accomplished and unfortunate prince henry, son of james the first. but his hopes of provision in that quarter were blasted by that prince's premature death; and he then accompanied the celebrated usher into ireland. after two or three years, he returned to england, and poverty induced him now to accept the rectory of okerton, near banbury, which he had before declined. here he imprudently became security for the debts of a relation, and, being unable to pay, was imprisoned for several years. he was released, at last, by his patron, usher, sir w. boswell, dr. pink, then warden of new college, and archbishop laud, to whom he showed his gratitude by writing in defence of his measures of church-government. he now applied to charles the first for his protection and encouragement to travel into the east, to collect mss. but the embarrassed state of the king's affairs prevented his petition from receiving attention. lastly, his well-known attachment to the royal cause drew upon him the repeated violence of the parliament troops, who plundered, imprisoned, and abused him, in the most cruel manner. he died in obscurity and indigence, in . a stone was laid over his grave in okerton church, in , by the society of new college, who also erected an honorary monument to his memory in the cloisters of their college. we have dwelt thus long on lydiat's name, because, when this poem was published, it was a subject of inquiry, who lydiat was, though some of his contemporaries, both in england and on the continent, ranked him with lord bacon, in mathematical and physical knowledge. for a more detailed account, see chalmers' biographical dictionary, vol. xxi. whence the above facts have been extracted, and gentleman's magazine, vol. lxviii. galileo, and his history, are too well known to require a note in this place. the vane, who told, "what ills from beauty spring," was not lady vane, the subject of smollett's memoirs, in peregrine pickle, but, according to mr. malone, she was anne vane, mistress to frederick prince of wales, and died in , not long before johnson settled in london. some account of her was published, under the title of the secret history of vanella, vo. , and in other similar works, referred to in boswell, i. . in mr. boswell's tour to the hebrides, we find lord hailes objecting to the instances of unfortunate beauties selected by johnson, and suggesting, in place of vane and sedley, the names of shore and valière. catherine sedley was daughter of sir charles sedley, mistress of king james the second, who created her countess of dorchester. she was a woman of a sprightly and agreeable wit, which could charm without the aid of beauty, and longer maintain its power. she had been the king's mistress before he ascended the throne, and soon after (january , - ) was created countess of dorchester. sir c. sedley, her father, looked on this title, as a splendid indignity, purchased at the expense of his daughter's honour; and when he was very active against the king, about the time of the revolution, he said, that, in gratitude, he should do his utmost to make his majesty's daughter a queen, as the king had made his own a countess. the king continued to visit her, which gave great uneasiness to the queen, who employed her friends, particularly the priests, to persuade him to break off the correspondence. they remonstrated with him on the guilt of the commerce, and the reproach it would bring on the catholic religion; she, on the contrary, employed the whole force of her ridicule against the priests and their counsels. they, at length, prevailed, and he is said to have sent her word to retire to france, or that her pension of , _l_. a year should be withdrawn. she then, probably, repented of having been the royal mistress, and "cursed the form that pleased the king." see manning and bray's surrey, ii. . where the countess's issue is also given. see, also, christian's note on blackstone's com. iv. p. . it is remarkable, that when johnson was asked, at a late period of his life, to whom he had alluded, under the name of sedley, he said, that he had quite forgotten. see note on idler, no. .--ed. london; a poem: in imitation of the third satire of juvenal written in . --quis ineptae tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se? juv. [a]though grief and fondness in my breast rebel, when injur'd thales bids the town farewell, yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, i praise the hermit, but regret the friend; resolv'd at length, from vice and london far, to breathe, in distant fields, a purer air, and, fix'd on cambria's solitary shore, give to st. david one true briton more. [b]for who would leave, unbrib'd, hibernia's land, or change the rocks of scotland for the strand? there none are swept by sudden fate away, but all, whom hunger spares, with age decay: here malice, rapine, accident, conspire, and now a rabble rages, now a fire; their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, and here the fell attorney prowls for prey; here falling houses thunder on your head, and here a female atheist talks you dead. [c]while thales waits the wherry, that contains of dissipated wealth the small remains, on thames's banks, in silent thought, we stood where greenwich smiles upon the silver flood; struck with the seat that gave eliza[a] birth, we kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth; in pleasing dreams the blissful age renew, and call britannia's glories back to view; behold her cross triumphant on the main, the guard of commerce, and the dread of spain, ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd or english honour grew a standing jest. a transient calm the happy scenes bestow, and, for a moment, lull the sense of woe. at length awaking, with contemptuous frown, indignant thales eyes the neighb'ring town. [d] since worth, he cries, in these degen'rate days, wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise; in those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain, since unrewarded science toils in vain; since hope but sooths to double my distress, and ev'ry moment leaves my little less; while yet my steady steps no [e]staff sustains, and life, still vig'rous, revels in my veins; grant me, kind heaven, to find some happier place, where honesty and sense are no disgrace; some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, some peaceful vale, with nature's paintings gay; where once the harass'd briton found repose, and, safe in poverty, defied his foes; some secret cell, ye pow'rs, indulgent give, [f]let--live here, for--has learn'd to live. here let those reign, whom pensions can incite to vote a patriot black, a courtier white; explain their country's dear-bought rights away, and plead for[b] pirates in the face of day; with slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth, and lend a lie the confidence of truth. [g]let such raise palaces, and manors buy, collect a tax, or farm a lottery; with warbling eunuchs fill a [c]licens'd [d]stage, and lull to servitude a thoughtless age. heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold, what check restrain your thirst of pow'r and gold? behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown, behold our fame, our wealth, our lives, your own. to such the plunder of a land is giv'n, when publick crimes inflame the wrath of heaven: [h]but what, my friend, what hope remains for me. who start at theft, and blush at perjury? who scarce forbear, though britain's court he sing, to pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing; a statesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear. and dare to slumber o'er the [e]gazetteer; despise a fool in half his pension dress'd, and strive, in vain, to laugh at clodio's jest[f]. [i]others, with softer smiles, and subtler art, can sap the principles, or taint the heart; with more address a lover's note convey, or bribe a virgin's innocence away. well may they rise, while i, whose rustick tongue ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong, spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy, live unregarded, unlamented die. [k]for what but social guilt the friend endears? who shares orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares. [l]but thou, should tempting villany present all marlb'rough hoarded, or all villiers spent, turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye, nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy, the peaceful slumber, self-approving day, unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay. [m] the cheated nation's happy fav'rites, see! mark whom the great caress, who frown on me! london! the needy villain's gen'ral home, the common sewer of paris and of rome; with eager thirst, by folly or by fate, sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state. forgive my transports, on a theme like this, [n]i cannot bear a french metropolis. [o]illustrious edward! from the realms of day, the land of heroes and of saints survey; nor hope the british lineaments to trace, the rustick grandeur, or the surly grace; but, lost in thoughtless ease and empty show, behold the warriour dwindled to a beau; sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away, of france the mimick, and of spain the prey. all that at home no more can beg or steal, or like a gibbet better than a wheel; hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court, their air, their dress, their politicks, import; [p]obsequious, artful, voluble and gay, on britain's fond credulity they prey. no gainful trade their industry can 'scape, [q]they sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap: all sciences a fasting monsieur knows, and, bid him go to hell, to hell he goes. [r]ah! what avails it, that, from slav'ry far, i drew the breath of life in english air; was early taught a briton's right to prize, and lisp the tale of henry's victories; if the gull'd conqueror receives the chain, and flattery prevails, when arms are vain![g] [s]studious to please, and ready to submit, the supple gaul was born a parasite: still to his int'rest true, where'er he goes, wit, brav'ry, worth, his lavish tongue bestows; in ev'ry face a thousand graces shine, from ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine. [t]these arts in vain our rugged natives try, strain out, with fault'ring diffidence, a lie, and get a kick[h] for awkward flattery. besides, with justice, this discerning age admires their wondrous talents for the stage: [u]well may they venture on the mimick's art, who play from morn to night a borrow'd part; practis'd their master's notions to embrace, repeat his maxims, and reflect his face; with ev'ry wild absurdity comply, and view each object with another's eye; to shake with laughter, ere the jest they hear, to pour at will the counterfeited tear; and, as their patron hints the cold or heat. to shake in dog-days, in december sweat. [x]how, when competitors, like these, contend, can surly virtue hope to fix a friend? slaves that with serious impudence beguile, and lie without a blush, without a smile; exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore, your taste in snuff, your judgment in a whore: can balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear, he gropes his breeches with a monarch's air. for arts, like these, preferr'd, admir'd, caress'd, they first invade your table, then your breast; [y]explore your secrets with insidious art, watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart; then soon your ill-placed confidence repay, commence your lords, and govern or betray. [z]by numbers here from shame or censure free, all crimes are safe, but hated poverty. this, only this, the rigid law pursues, this, only this, provokes the snarling muse. the sober trader at a tatter'd cloak wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke; with brisker air the silken courtiers gaze, and turn the varied taunt a thousand ways. [aa]of all the griefs, that harass the distress'd, sure the most bitter is a scornful jest; fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart, than when a blockhead's insult points the dart. [bb]has heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor, no pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore? no secret island in the boundless main? no peaceful desert, yet unclaim'd by spain?[i] quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, and bear oppression's insolence no more. this mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd, [cc]slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd: but here more slow, where all are slaves to gold, where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold; where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd, the groom retails the favours of his lord. but hark! th' affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries roll through the streets, and thunder to the skies: rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and pow'r, some pompous palace, or some blissful bow'r, aghast you start, and scarce, with aching sight, sustain th' approaching fire's tremendous light; swift from pursuing horrours take your way, and leave your little all to flames a prey; [dd]then through the world a wretched vagrant roam; for where can starving merit find a home? in vain your mournful narrative disclose, while all neglect, and most insult your woes. [ee]should heav'n's just bolts orgilio's wealth confound, [j]and spread his flaming palace on the ground, swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies, and publick mournings pacify the skies; the laureate tribe in venal verse relate, how virtue wars with persecuting fate; [ff]with well-feign'd gratitude the pension'd band refund the plunder of the beggar'd land. see! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come, and crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome; the price of boroughs and of souls restore; and raise his treasures higher than before. now bless'd with all the baubles of the great, the polish'd marble and the shining plate, [gg]orgilio sees the golden pile aspire, and hopes from angry heav'n another fire. [hh]could'st thou resign the park and play, content, for the fair banks of severn or of trent; there might'st thou find some elegant retreat, some hireling senator's deserted seat; and stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land, for less than rent the dungeons of the strand; there prune thy walks, support thy drooping flowers, direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bowers; [k] and, while thy grounds a cheap repast afford, despise the dainties of a venal lord: there ev'ry bush with nature's musick rings; there ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings; on all thy hours security shall smile, and bless thine evening walk and morning toil. [ii]prepare for death, if here at night you roam, and sign your will, before you sup from home. [kk] some fiery fop, with new commission vain, who sleeps on brambles, till he kills his man; some frolick drunkard, reeling from a feast, provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest. [ll]yet e'en these heroes, mischievously gay, lords of the street, and terrours of the way; flush'd, as they are, with folly, youth, and wine; their prudent insults to the poor confine; afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach, and shun the shining train, and golden coach. [mm]in vain, these dangers past, your doors you close, and hope the balmy blessings of repose; cruel with guilt, and daring with despair, the midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar; invades the sacred hour of silent rest, [l]and leaves, unseen, a dagger in your breast. [nn]scarce can our fields, such crowds at tyburn die, with hemp the gallows and the fleet supply. propose your schemes, ye senatorian band, whose ways and means[m]support the sinking land: lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring, to rig another convoy for the king[n]. [oo]a single gaol, in alfred's golden reign, could half the nation's criminals contain; fair justice, then, without constraint ador'd, held high the steady scale, but sheath'd the sword [d]; no spies were paid, no special juries known, blest age! but ah! how different from our own! [pp]much could i add,--but see the boat at hand, the tide, retiring, calls me from the land: [qq] farewell!--when youth, and health, and fortune spent, thou fly'st for refuge to the wilds of kent; and, tir'd, like me, with follies and with crimes, in angry numbers warn'st succeeding times; then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid, still foe to vice, forsake his cambrian shade; in virtue's cause, once more, exert his rage, thy satire point, and animate thy page. footnotes [a] quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, laudo, tamen, vacuis quod sedem figere cumis destinet atque unum civcm donare sibyllae. [b] --ego vel prochytam praepono suburae. nam quid tam miserum, tam solum vidimus, ut non deterius credas horrere incendia, lapsus tectorum assiduos, ae mille pericula saevae urbis et augusto recitantes mense poetas [c] sed dum tota domus reda componitur una, substitit ad veteres arcus-- [d] hic tunc umbricius; quando artibus, inquit, honestis nullus in urbe locus, nulla emolumenta laborum, res hodie minor est, here quam fuit, atque eadem eras deteret exiguis aliquid: proponimus illue ire, fatigatas ubi daedalus exuit alas, dum nova canities,-- [e] --et pedibus me porto meis, nullo dextram subeunte bacillo. [f] cedamus patria: vivant artorius istic et catulus: maneant, qui nigrum in candida vertunt. [g] queis facile est aedem conducere, flumina, portus, siccandam eluviem, portandum ad busta cadaver,-- munera nunc edunt. [h] quid romae faciam? mentiri nescio: librum, si malus est, nequeo laudare et poscere:-- [i] --ferre ad nuptam, quae mittit adulter, quae mandat, norunt alii; me nemo ministro fur erit, atque ideo nulli comes exeo,-- [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [j]] [k] quis nune diligitur, nisi conscius?-- carus erit verri, qui verrem tempore, quo vult, acuusare potest.-- [l] --tanti tibi non sit opaci omnis arena tagi, quodque in mare volvitur aurum, ut somno careas-- [m] quae nunc divitibus gens acceptissima nostris et quos praecipue fugiam, properabo fateri. [n] --non possum ferre, quirites, graecam urbem:-- [o] rusticus ille tuus sumit trechedipna, quirine, et ceromatico fert niceteria collo. [p] ingenium velox, audacia perdita, sermo promptus-- [q] augur, schoenobates, medicus, magus: omnia novit. graeculus esuriens in coelum, jusseris, ibit. [r] usque adeo nihil est, quod nostra infantia coelum hausit aventinum?-- [s] quid? quod adulandi gens prudentissima laudat sermonem indocti, faciem deformis amici? [t] haec eadem licet et nobis laudare: sed illis creditur.-- [u] natio comoeda est. rides? majore cachinno coneutitur, &c. [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [v] or footnote [w]] [x] non sumus ergo pares: melior, qui semper et omni nocte dieque potest alienum sumere vultum, a facie jactare manus, laudare paratus, si bene ructavit, si rectum minxit amicus.-- [y] scire volunt secreta domus atque inde timeri. [z] --materiam praebet causasque jocorum omnibus hic idem, si foeda et scissa lacerna, &c. [aa] nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, quam quod ridiculos homines facit.-- [bb] --agmine facto, debuerant olim tenues migrasse quirites. [cc] haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat res angusta domi; sed romae; durior illis conatus:-- --omnia romaae cum pretio.-- cogimur, et cultis augere peculia servis. [dd] --ultimus autem aerumnae cumulus, quod nudum et frustra rogautem nemo cibo, nemo hospitio tectoque juvabit. [ee] si magna asturii cecidit domus, horrida mater: pullati proccres,-- [ff] --jam accurrit, qui marmora donet, conferat impensas: hic &c. [gg] hic modium argenti. meliora, ac plura reponit persicus orborum lautissimus-- [hh] si potes avelli circensibus, optima sorae, aut fabrateriae domus, aut frusinone paratur, quanti nunc tenebras unum conducis in annum. hortulus hic-- vive bidentis amans et culti villicus horti; unde epulum possis centum dare pythagoreis. [ii] --possis ignavus haberi et subiti casus improvidus, ad coenam si intestatus eas.-- [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [jj]] [kk] ebrius, ac petulans, qui nullum forte cecidit, dat poenas, noetem patitur lugentis amicum pelidae.-- [ll] --sed, quamvis improbus annis, atque mero fervens, cavet hunc, quem coccina lae [transcriber's note: remainder of word illegible] vitari jubet, et comitum longissimus ordo, multum praeterca flammarum, atque aenca lampas, [mm] nec tamen hoc tantum metuas: nam qui spoliet te, non deerit, clausis domibus, &c. [nn] maximus in vinclis ferri modus, ut timeas, ne vomer deficiat, ne marrae et sarcula desint. [oo] felices proavorum atavos, felicia dicas saecula, quae quondam sub regibus atque tribunis viderunt uno contentam carcere romam. [pp] his alias poteram, et plures subnectere causas: sed jumenta vocant-- [qq] --ergo vale nostri memor et, quoties te roma tuo refici properantem reddet aquino, me quoque ad helvinam cererem vestramque dianam convelle a cumis. satirarum ego, ni pudet illas, adjutor gelidos veniam caligatus in agros. [a] queen elizabeth, born at greenwich. [b] the invasions of the spaniards were defended in the houses of parliament. [c] the licensing act was then lately made. [d] _our silenc'd._ [e] the paper which, at that time, contained apologies for the court. [f] h--y's jest. [g] and what their armies lost, their cringes gain [h] and _gain_ a kick. [i] the spaniards at this time were said to make claim to some of our american provinces. [j] this was by hitch, a bookseller. justly observed to be no picture of modern manners, though it might be true at rome. ms. note in dr. johnson's hand-writing. [k] and, while thy _beds_. [l] and _plants_ unseen. [m] a cant term in the house of commons for methods of raising money. [n] the nation was discontented at the visits made by the king to hanover. [o] _sustain'd_ the _balance_, but _resign'd_ the sword. the vanity of human wishes; in imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal. let[a] observation, with extensive view, survey mankind, from china to peru; remark each anxious toil, each eager strife, and watch the busy scenes of crowded life; then say, how hope and fear, desire and hate o'erspread with snares the clouded maze of fate, where wav'ring man, betray'd by vent'rous pride to tread the dreary paths, without a guide, as treach'rous phantoms in the mist delude, shuns fancied ills, or chases airy good; how rarely reason guides the stubborn choice, rules the bold hand, or prompts the suppliant voice. how nations sink, by darling schemes oppress'd, when vengeance listens to the fool's request. fate wings with ev'ry wish th' afflictive dart, each gift of nature, and each grace of art; with fatal heat impetuous courage glows, with fatal sweetness elocution flows, impeachment stops the speaker's pow'rful breath, and restless fire precipitates on death. [b]but, scarce observ'd, the knowing and the bold fall in the gen'ral massacre of gold; wide wasting pest! that rages unconfin'd, and crowds with crimes the records of mankind; for gold his sword the hireling ruffian draws, for gold the hireling judge distorts the laws; wealth heap'd on wealth, nor truth nor safety buys, the dangers gather as the treasures rise. let hist'ry tell where rival kings command, and dubious title shakes the madded land, when statutes glean the refuse of the sword, how much more safe the vassal than the lord; low sculks the hind beneath the rage of power, and leaves the wealthy traitor in the tower[c], untouch'd his cottage, and his slumbers sound, though confiscation's vultures hover round[d]. the needy traveller, serene and gay, walks the wild heath, and sings his toil away. does envy seize thee? crush th' upbraiding joy; increase his riches, and his peace destroy; [e]now fears, in dire vicissitude, invade, the rustling brake alarms, and quiv'ring shade; nor light nor darkness bring his pain relief, one shows the plunder, and one hides the thief. [f] yet still one gen'ral cry[g] the skies assails, and gain and grandeur load the tainted gales: few know the toiling statesman's fear or care, th' insidious rival, and the gaping heir. [h]once more, democritus, arise on earth, with cheerful wisdom and instructive mirth, see motley life in modern trappings dress'd, and feed with varied fools th' eternal jest: thou, who could'st laugh where want enchain'd caprice, toil crush'd conceit, and man was of a piece; where wealth, unlov'd, without a mourner died; and scarce a sycophant was fed by pride; where ne'er was known the form of mock debate, or seen a new-made mayor's unwieldy state; where change of fav'rites made no change of laws, and senates heard, before they judg'd a cause; how would'st thou shake at britain's modish tribe, dart the quick taunt, and edge the piercing gibe? attentive truth and nature to descry, and pierce each scene with philosophick eye; to thee were solemn toys, or empty show, the robes of pleasure, and the veils of woe: all aid the farce, and all thy mirth maintain, whose joys are causeless, or whose griefs are vain. such was the scorn that fill'd the sage's mind, renew'd at ev'ry glance on human kind; how just that scorn, ere yet thy voice declare, search ev'ry state, and canvass ev'ry pray'r. [i]unnumber'd suppliants crowd preferment's gate, athirst for wealth, and burning to be great; delusive fortune hears th' incessant call, they mount, they shine, evaporate, and fall. on ev'ry stage the foes of peace attend, hate dogs their flight, and insult mocks their end. love ends with hope, the sinking statesman's door pours in the morning worshipper no more; for growing names the weekly scribbler lies, to growing wealth the dedicator flies; from ev'ry room descends the painted face, that hung the bright palladium of the place; and, smok'd in kitchens, or in auctions sold, to better features yields the frame of gold; for now no more we trace in ev'ry line heroick worth, benevolence divine: the form, distorted, justifies the fall, and detestation rids th' indignant wall. but will not britain hear the last appeal, sign her foes' doom, or guard her fav'rites' zeal? through freedom's sons no more remonstrance rings, degrading nobles and controling kings; our supple tribes repress their patriot throats, and ask no questions but the price of votes; with weekly libels and septennial ale, their wish is full to riot and to rail. in full-blown dignity, see wolsey stand, law in his voice, and fortune in his hand; to him the church, the realm their pow'rs consign, through him the rays of regal bounty shine; turn'd by his nod the stream of honour flows, his smile alone security bestows. still to new heights his restless wishes tow'r, claim leads to claim, and pow'r advances pow'r; till conquest, unresisted, ceas'd to please, and rights, submitted, left him none to seize. at length his sov'reign frowns--the train of state mark the keen glance, and watch the sign to hate. where'er he turns, he meets a stranger's eye, his suppliants scorn him, and his followers fly; now drops, at once, the pride of awful state, the golden canopy, the glitt'ring plate, the regal palace, the luxurious board, the liv'ried army, and the menial lord. with age, with cares, with maladies oppress'd, he seeks the refuge of monastick rest: grief aids disease, remember'd folly stings, and his last sighs reproach the faith of kings. speak thou, whose thoughts at humble peace repine, shall wolsey's wealth, with wolsey's end, be thine? or liv'st thou now, with safer pride content, [k]the wisest justice on the banks of trent? for, why did wolsey, near the steeps of fate, on weak foundations raise th' enormous weight? why but to sink beneath misfortune's blow, with louder ruin to the gulfs below? [l]what gave great villiers to th' assassin's knife, and fix'd disease on harley's closing life? what murder'd wentworth, and what exil'd hyde, by kings protected, and to kings allied? what but their wish indulg'd in courts to shine, and pow'r too great to keep, or to resign? [m]when first the college rolls receive his name, the young enthusiast quits his ease for fame; [n]through all his veins the fever of renown spreads from the strong contagion of the gown; o'er bodley's dome his future labours spread, and [o]bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head. are these thy views? proceed, illustrious youth, and virtue guard thee to the throne of truth! yet, should thy soul indulge the gen'rous heat till captive science yields her last retreat; should reason guide thee with her brightest ray, and pour on misty doubt resistless day; should no false kindness lure to loose delight, nor praise relax, nor difficulty fright; should tempting novelty thy cell refrain, [p]and sloth effuse her opiate fumes in vain; should beauty blunt on fops her fatal dart, nor claim the triumph of a letter'd heart; should no disease thy torpid veins invade, nor melancholy's phantoms haunt thy shade; yet hope not life, from grief or danger free, nor think the doom of man revers'd for thee: deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, and pause awhile from letters, to be wise; there mark what ills the scholar's life assail, toil, envy, want, the patron, and the gaol[q]. see nations, slowly wise and meanly just, to buried merit raise the tardy bust. if dreams yet flatter, once again attend, hear lydiat's life, and galileo's end[r]. nor deem, when learning her last prize bestows, the glitt'ring eminence exempt from woes; see, when the vulgar scape[s], despis'd or aw'd, rebellion's vengeful talons seize on laud. from meaner minds though smaller fines content, the plunder'd palace, or sequester'd rent; mark'd out by dang'rous parts, he meets the shock, and fatal learning leads him to the block: around his tomb let art and genius weep, but hear his death, ye blockheads, hear and sleep. [t]the festal blazes, the triumphal show, the ravish'd standard, and the captive foe, the senate's thanks, the gazette's pompous tale, with force resistless o'er the brave prevail. such bribes the rapid greek o'er asia whirl'd; for such the steady romans shook the world; for such, in distant lands, the britons shine, and stain with blood the danube or the rhine; this pow'r has praise, that virtue scarce can warm, till fame supplies the universal charm. yet reason frowns on war's unequal game, where wasted nations raise a single name; and mortgag'd states, their grandsires' wreaths regret. from age to age in everlasting debt; wreaths which, at last, the dear-bought right convey to rust on medals, or on stones decay. [u]on what foundation stands the warriour's pride, how just his hopes, let swedish charles decide; a frame of adamant, a soul of fire, no dangers fright him, and no labours tire; [x]o'er love, o'er fear, extends his wide domain, unconquer'd lord of pleasure and of pain; no joys to him pacifick sceptres yield, war sounds the trump, he rushes to the field; behold surrounding kings their pow'rs combine, and one capitulate, and one resign; peace courts his hand, but spreads her charms in vain; "think nothing gain'd," he cries, "till nought remain, on moscow's walls till gothick standards fly, and all be mine beneath the polar sky." the march begins in military state, and nations on his eye suspended wait; stern famine guards the solitary coast, and winter barricades the realm of frost; he comes, nor want nor cold his course delay;-- hide, blushing glory, hide pultowa's day: the vanquish'd hero leaves his broken bands, and shows his miseries in distant lands; condemn'd a needy supplicant to wait, while ladies interpose, and slaves debate. but did not chance, at length, her errour mend? did no subverted empire mark his end? did rival monarchs give the fatal wound? or hostile millions press him to the ground? his fall was destin'd to a barren strand, a petty fortress, and a dubious hand; he left the name, at which the world grew pale, to point a moral, or adorn a tale. [y]all times their scenes of pompous woes afford, from persia's tyrant to bavaria's lord. in gay hostility and barb'rous pride, with half mankind embattl'd at his side, great xerxes comes to seize the certain prey, and starves exhausted regions in his way; attendant flatt'ry counts his myriads o'er, till counted myriads sooth his pride no more; fresh praise is try'd till madness fires his mind, the waves he lashes, and enchains the wind, new pow'rs are claim'd, new pow'rs are still bestow'd, till rude resistance lops the spreading god; the daring greeks deride the martial show, and heap their valleys with the gaudy foe; th' insulted sea, with humbler thoughts, he gains; a single skiff to speed his flight remains; th' incumber'd oar scarce leaves the dreaded coast through purple billows and a floating host. the bold bavarian, in a luckless hour, tries the dread summits of caesarean pow'r, with unexpected legions bursts away, and sees defenceless realms receive his sway;-- short sway! fair austria spreads her mournful charms, the queen, the beauty, sets the world in arms; from hill to hill the beacon's rousing blaze spreads wide the hope of plunder and of praise; the fierce croatian, and the wild hussar, [z]with all the sons of ravage, crowd the war; the baffled prince, in honour's flatt'ring bloom of hasty greatness, finds the fatal doom, his foes' derision, and his subjects' blame, and steals to death from anguish and from shame. [aa]enlarge my life with multitude of days! in health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays; hides from himself his state, and shuns to know, that life protracted is protracted woe. time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, and shuts up all the passages of joy; in vain their gifts the bounteous seasons pour, the fruit autumnal, and the vernal flow'r; with listless eyes the dotard views the store, he views, and wonders that they please no more; now pall the tasteless meats, and joyless wines, and luxury with sighs her slave resigns. approach, ye minstrels, try the soothing strain, [bb]diffuse the tuneful lenitives of pain: no sounds, alas! would touch th' impervious ear, though dancing mountains witness'd orpheus near; nor lute nor lyre his feeble pow'rs attend, nor sweeter musick of a virtuous friend; but everlasting dictates crowd his tongue, perversely grave, or positively wrong. the still returning tale, and ling'ring jest, perplex the fawning niece and pamper'd guest, while growing hopes scarce awe the gath'ring sneer, and scarce a legacy can bribe to hear; the watchful guests still hint the last offence; the daughter's petulance, the son's expense, improve his heady rage with treach'rous skill, and mould his passions till they make his will. unnumber'd maladies his joints invade, lay siege to life, and press the dire blockade; but unextinguish'd av'rice still remains, and dreaded losses aggravate his pains; he turns, with anxious heart and crippled hands, his bonds of debt, and mortgages of lands; or views his coffers with suspicious eyes, unlocks his gold, and counts it till he dies. but grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime bless with an age exempt from scorn or crime; [cc]an age that melts with unperceiv'd decay, and glides in modest innocence away; whose peaceful day benevolence endears, whose night congratulating conscience cheers; the gen'ral fav'rite as the gen'ral friend; such age there is, and who shall wish its end[dd]? yet e'en on this her load misfortune flings, to press the weary minutes' flagging wings; new sorrow rises as the day returns, a sister sickens, or a daughter mourns. now kindred merit fills the sable bier, now lacerated friendship claims a tear; year chases year, decay pursues decay, still drops some joy from with'ring life away; new forms arise, and diff'rent views engage, superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage, till pitying nature signs the last release, and bids afflicted worth retire to peace. but few there are whom hours like these await, who set unclouded in the gulfs of fate. from lydia's monarch should the search descend, by solon caution'd to regard his end, in life's last scene what prodigies surprise, fears of the brave, and follies of the wise! from marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow, and swift expires a driv'ller and a show. [ee]the teeming mother, anxious for her race, begs for each birth the fortune of a face; yet vane could tell what ills from beauty spring; and sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king. ye nymphs of rosy lips and radiant eyes, whom pleasure keeps too busy to be wise; whom joys with soft varieties invite, by day the frolick, and the dance by night; who frown with vanity, who smile with art, and ask the latest fashion of the heart; what care, what rules, your heedless charms shall save, each nymph your rival, and each youth your slave? against your fame with fondness hate combines, the rival batters, and the lover mines. with distant voice neglected virtue calls, less heard and less, the faint remonstrance falls; tir'd with contempt, she quits the slipp'ry reign, and pride and prudence take her seat in vain. in crowd at once, where none the pass defend, the harmless freedom, and the private friend. the guardians yield, by force superiour ply'd: to int'rest, prudence; and to flatt'ry, pride. here beauty falls, betray'd, despis'd, distress'd, and hissing infamy proclaims the rest. [ff]where then shall hope and fear their objects find? must dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? must no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, no cries invoke the mercies of the skies? inquirer, cease; petitions yet remain which heav'n may hear; nor deem religion vain. still raise for good the supplicating voice, but leave to heav'n the measure and the choice. safe in his pow'r, whose eyes discern afar the secret ambush of a specious pray'r; implore his aid, in his decisions rest, secure, whate'er he gives, he gives the best. yet, when the sense of sacred presence fires, and strong devotion to the skies aspires[gg], pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, obedient passions, and a will resign'd; for love, which scarce collective man can fill; for patience, sov'reign o'er transmuted ill; for faith, that, panting for a happier seat, [hh]counts death kind nature's signal of retreat: these goods for man the laws of heav'n ordain; these goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain; with these celestial wisdom calms the mind, and makes the happiness she does not find. footnotes [a] ver. -- . [b] ver. -- . [c] in the first edition, "the _bonny_ traitor!" an evident allusion to the scotch lords who suffered for the rebellion in . [d] clang around. [e] new fears. [f] ver. - . [g] yet still the gen'ral cry. [h] ver. - . [i] ver. -- . [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [j]] [k] the richest landlord. [l] ver. -- . [m] ver. -- . [n] _resistless burns the_ fever of renown, _caught_ from the strong contagion of the gown. mr. boswell tells us, that when he remarked to dr. johnson, that there was an awkward repetition of the word spreads in this passage, he altered it to "burns from the strong contagion of the gown;" but this expression, it appears, was only resumed from the reading in the first edition. [o] there is a tradition, that the study of friar bacon, built on an arch over the bridge, will fall, when a man greater than bacon shall pass under it. to prevent so shocking an accident, it was pulled down many years since. [p] and sloth's _bland_ opiates _shed_ their fumes in vain. [q] the _garret_ and the gaol. [r] see gent. mag. vol. lxviii. p. , . [s] this was first written, "see, when the vulgar scap_ed_;" but, as the rest of the paragraph was in the present tense, he altered it to scape_s_; but again recollecting that the word _vulgar_ is never used as a singular substantive, he adopted the reading of the text. [t] ver. -- . [u] ver. -- . [transcriber's note: there is no footnote [v] or footnote [w]] [x] o'er love or _force_. [y] ver. -- . [z] _and_ all the sons. [aa] ver. -- . [bb] and _yield_. [cc] an age that melts _in_. [dd] _could_ wish its end. [ee] ver. - . [ff] ver. - . [gg] yet, _with_ the sense of sacred presence _press'd_, _when_ strong devotion _fills thy glowing breast_. [hh] _thinks_ death. prologue, spoken by mr. garrick, at the opening of the theatre-royal, drury lane, . when learning's triumph o'er her barb'rous foes first rear'd the stage, immortal shakespeare rose; each change of many-colour'd life he drew, exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new: existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, and panting time toil'd after him in vain: his pow'rful strokes presiding truth impress'd, and unresisted passion storm'd the breast. then jonson came, instructed from the school to please in method, and invent by rule; his studious patience and laborious art, by regular approach, assail'd the heart: cold approbation gave the ling'ring bays; for those, who durst not censure, scarce could praise: a mortal born, he met the gen'ral doom, but left, like egypt's kings, a lasting tomb. the wits of charles found easier ways to fame, nor wish'd for jonson's art, or shakespeare's flame: themselves they studied, as they felt, they writ; intrigue was plot, obscenity was wit; vice always found a sympathetick friend; they pleas'd their age, and did not aim to mend. yet bards, like these, aspir'd to lasting praise, and proudly hop'd to pimp in future days. their cause was gen'ral, their supports were strong; their slaves were willing, and their reign was long: till shame regain'd the post that sense betray'd, and virtue call'd oblivion to her aid. then, crush'd by rules, and weaken'd, as refin'd, for years the pow'r of tragedy declin'd; from bard to bard the frigid caution crept, till declamation roar'd, while passion slept; yet still did virtue deign the stage to tread, philosophy remain'd, though nature fled. but forced, at length, her ancient reign to quit, she saw great faustus lay the ghost of wit; exulting folly hail'd the joyful day, and pantomime and song confirm'd her sway. but who the coming changes can presage, and mark the future periods of the stage? perhaps, if skill could distant times explore, new behns, new durfeys, yet remain in store; perhaps, where lear has ray'd, and hamlet dy'd, on flying cars new sorcerers may ride: perhaps, (for who can guess th' effects of chance?) here hunt[a] may box, or mahomet may dance. hard is his lot that, here by fortune plac'd, must watch the wild vicissitudes of taste; with ev'ry meteor of caprice must play, and chase the new-blown bubbles of the day. ah! let not censure term our fate our choice, the stage but echoes back the publick voice; the drama's laws the drama's patrons give, for we that live to please, must please to live. then prompt no more the follies you decry, as tyrants doom their tools of guilt to die; 'tis yours, this night, to bid the reign commence of rescued nature and reviving sense; to chase the charms of sound, the pomp of show, for useful mirth and salutary woe; bid scenick virtue form the rising age, and truth diffuse her radiance from the stage. [a] hunt, a famous boxer on the stage; mahomet, a ropedancer, who had exhibited at covent garden theatre the winter before, said to be a turk. prefatory notice to the tragedy of irene. the history of this tragedy's composition is interesting, as affording dates to distinguish johnson's literary progress. it was begun, and considerably advanced, while he kept a school at edial, near lichfield, in . in the following year, when he relinquished the task of a schoolmaster, so little congenial with his mind and disposition, and resolved to seek his fortunes in the metropolis, irene was carried along with him as a foundation for his success. mr. walmsley, one of his early friends, recommended him, and his fellow-adventurer, garrick, to the notice and protection of colson, the mathematician. unless mrs. piozzi is correct, in rescuing the character of colson from any identity with that of gelidus, in the rambler[a], johnson entertained no lively recollection of his first patron's kindness. he was ever warm in expressions of gratitude for favours, conferred on him in his season of want and obscurity; and from his deep silence here, we may conclude, that the recluse mathematician did not evince much sympathy with the distresses of the young candidate for dramatic fame. be this, however, as it may, johnson, shortly after this introduction, took lodgings at greenwich, to proceed with his irene in quiet and retirement, but soon returned to lichfield, to complete it. the same year that saw these successive disappointments, witnessed also johnson's return to london, with his tragedy completed, and its rejection by fleetwood, the patentee, at that time, of drury lane theatre. twelve years elapsed, before it was acted, and, after many alterations by his pupil and companion, garrick, who was then manager of the theatre, it was, by his zeal, and the support of the most eminent performers of the day, carried through a representation of nine nights. johnson's profits, after the deduction of expenses, and together with the hundred pounds, which he received from robert dodsley, for the copy, were nearly three hundred pounds. so fallacious were the hopes cherished by walmsley, that johnson would "turn out a fine tragedy writer[b]." "the tragedy of irene," says mr. murphy, "is founded on a passage in knolles's history of the turks;" an author highly commended in the rambler, no. . an incident in the life of mahomet the great, first emperor of the turks, is the hinge, on which the fable is made to move. the substance of the story is shortly this:--in , mahomet laid siege to constantinople, and, having reduced the place, became enamoured of a fair greek, whose name was irene. the sultan invited her to embrace the law of the prophet, and to grace his throne. enraged at this intended marriage, the janizaries formed a conspiracy to dethrone the emperor. to avert the impending danger, mahomet, in a full assembly of the grandees, "catching, with one hand," as knolles relates it, "the fair greek by the hair of her head, and drawing his falchion with the other, he, at one blow, struck off her head, to the great terror of them all; and, having so done, said unto them, 'now, by this, judge whether your emperor is able to bridle his affections or not[c].'" we are not unjust, we conceive, in affirming, that there is an interest kept alive in the plain and simple narrative of the old historian, which is lost in the declamatory tragedy of johnson. it is sufficient, for our present purpose, to confess that he _has_ failed in this his only dramatic attempt; we shall endeavour, more fully, to show _how_ he has failed, in our discussion of his powers as a critic. that they were not blinded to the defects of others, by his own inefficiency in dramatic composition, is fully proved by his judicious remarks on cato, which was constructed on a plan similar to irene: and the strongest censure, ever passed on this tragedy, was conveyed in garrick's application of johnson's own severe, but correct critique, on the wits of charles, in whose works "declamation roar'd, while passion slept."[d] "addison speaks the language of poets," says johnson, in his preface to shakespeare, "and shakespeare of men. we find in cato innumerable beauties, which enamour us of its author, but we see nothing that acquaints us with human sentiments, or human actions; we place it with the fairest and the noblest progeny which judgment propagates by conjunction with learning; but othello is the vigorous and vivacious offspring of observation, impregnated by genius. cato affords a splendid exhibition of artificial and fictitious manners, and delivers just and noble sentiments, in diction easy, elevated and harmonious; but its hopes and fears communicate no vibration to the heart: the composition refers us only to the writer; we pronounce the name of cato, but we think on addison." the critic's remarks on the same tragedy, in his life of addison, are as applicable as the above to his own production. "cato is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama; rather a succession of just sentiments in elegant language, than a representation of natural affections, or of any state probable or possible in human life. nothing here 'excites or assuages emotion:' here is no 'magical power of raising phantastick terrour or wild anxiety.' the events are expected without solicitude, and are remembered without joy or sorrow. of the agents we have no care; we consider not what they are doing, or what they are suffering; we wish only to know what they have to say." but, while we thus pronounce johnson's failure in the production of dramatic effect, we will not withhold our tribute of admiration from irene, as a moral piece. for, although a remark of fox's on an unpublished tragedy of burke's, that it was rather rhetorical than poetical, may be applied to the work under consideration; still it abounds, throughout, with the most elevated and dignified lessons of morality and virtue. the address of demetrius to the aged cali, on the dangers of procrastination[e]; aspasia's reprobation of irene's meditated apostasy[f]; and the allusive panegyric on the british constitution[g], may be enumerated, as examples of its excellence in sentiment and diction. lastly, we may consider irene, as one other illustrious proof, that the most strict adherence to the far-famed unities, the most harmonious versification, and the most correct philosophy, will not vie with a single and simple touch of nature, expressed in simple and artless language. "but how rich in reputation must that author be, who can spare _an irene_, and not feel the loss [h]." footnotes [a] rambler, no. , and note. [b] boswell's life, i. [c] murphy's essay on the life and genius of dr. johnson. [d] prologue at the opening of drury lane theatre, . [e] act iii. scene ii. "to-morrow's action!" &c. [f] act iii. scene viii. "reflect, that life and death," &c. [g] act i. scene ii. "if there be any land, as fame reports," &c. [h] dr. young's remark on addison's cato. see his conjectures on original composition. works, vol. v. prologue. ye glitt'ring train, whom lace and velvet bless, suspend the soft solicitudes of dress! from grov'ling bus'ness and superfluous care, ye sons of avarice, a moment spare! vot'ries of fame, and worshippers of power, dismiss the pleasing phantoms for an hour! our daring bard, with spirit unconfin'd, spreads wide the mighty moral for mankind. learn here, how heaven supports the virtuous mind, daring, though calm; and vig'rous, though resign'd; learn here, what anguish racks the guilty breast, in pow'r dependant, in success depress'd. learn here, that peace from innocence must flow; all else is empty sound, and idle show. if truths, like these, with pleasing language join; ennobled, yet unchang'd, if nature shine; if no wild draught depart from reason's rules; nor gods his heroes, nor his lovers fools; intriguing wits! his artless plot forgive; and spare him, beauties! though his lovers live. be this, at least, his praise, be this his pride; to force applause, no modern arts are try'd. should partial catcals all his hopes confound, he bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound. should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, he rolls no thunders o'er the drowsy pit; no snares, to captivate the judgment, spreads, nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads. unmov'd, though witlings sneer, and rivals rail, studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail, he scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain, with merit needless, and without it vain. in reason, nature, truth, he dares to trust: ye fops, be silent: and, ye wits, be just! persons of the drama. men. mahomet, emperour of the turks, mr. barry. cali bassa, first vizier, mr. berry. mustapha, a turkish aga, mr. sowden. abdalla, an officer, mr. havard. hasan, \ / mr. usher, turkish captains, caraza, / \ mr. burton. demetrius, \ / mr. garrick, greek noblemen, leontius, / \ mr. blakes. murza, an eunuch, mr. king. women. aspasia, \ / mrs. gibber, greek ladies, irene, / \ mrs. pritchard. attendants on irene. act i.--scene i. demetrius _and_ leontius, _in turkish habits_. leontius. and, is it thus demetrius meets his friend, hid in the mean disguise of turkish robes, with servile secrecy to lurk in shades, and vent our suff'rings in clandestine groans? demetrius. till breathless fury rested from destruction, these groans were fatal, these disguises vain: but, now our turkish conquerors have quench'd their rage, and pall'd their appetite of murder, no more the glutted sabre thirsts for blood; and weary cruelty remits her tortures. leontius. yet greece enjoys no gleam of transient hope, no soothing interval of peaceful sorrow: the lust of gold succeeds the rage of conquest; --the lust of gold, unfeeling and remorseless, the last corruption of degen'rate man! urg'd by th' imperious soldiers' fierce command, the groaning greeks break up their golden caverns, pregnant with stores, that india's mines might envy, th' accumulated wealth of toiling ages. demetrius. that wealth, too sacred for their country's use! that wealth, too pleasing to be lost for freedom! that wealth, which, granted to their weeping prince, had rang'd embattled nations at our gates! but, thus reserv'd to lure the wolves of turkey, adds shame to grief, and infamy to ruin. lamenting av'rice, now too late, discovers her own neglected in the publick safety. leontius. reproach not misery.--the sons of greece, ill fated race! so oft besieg'd in vain, with false security beheld invasion. why should they fear?--that pow'r that kindly spreads the clouds, a signal of impending show'rs, to warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade, beheld without concern expiring greece; and not one prodigy foretold our fate. demetrius. a thousand horrid prodigies foretold it: a feeble government, eluded laws, a factious populace, luxurious nobles, and all the maladies of sinking states. when publick villany, too strong for justice, shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, can brave leontius call for airy wonders, which cheats interpret, and which fools regard? when some neglected fabrick nods beneath the weight of years, and totters to the tempest, must heav'n despatch the messengers of light, or wake the dead, to warn us of its fall? leontius. well might the weakness of our empire sink before such foes of more than human force: some pow'r invisible, from heav'n or hell, conducts their armies, and asserts their cause. demetrius. and yet, my friend, what miracles were wrought beyond the pow'r of constancy and courage? did unresisted lightning aid their cannon? did roaring whirlwinds sweep us from the ramparts? 'twas vice that shook our nerves, 'twas vice, leontius, that froze our veins, and wither'd all our pow'rs. leontius. whate'er our crimes, our woes demand compassion. each night, protected by the friendly darkness, quitting my close retreat, i range the city, and, weeping, kiss the venerable ruins; with silent pangs, i view the tow'ring domes, sacred to pray'r; and wander through the streets, where commerce lavish'd unexhausted plenty, and jollity maintain'd eternal revels-- demetrius. --how chang'd, alas!--now ghastly desolation, in triumph, sits upon our shatter'd spires; now superstition, ignorance, and errour, usurp our temples, and profane our altars. leontius. from ev'ry palace bursts a mingled clamour, the dreadful dissonance of barb'rous triumph, shrieks of affright, and waitings of distress. oft when the cries of violated beauty arose to heav'n, and pierc'd my bleeding breast, i felt thy pains, and trembled for aspasia. demetrius. aspasia!--spare that lov'd, that mournful name: dear, hapless maid--tempestuous grief o'erbears my reasoning pow'rs--dear, hapless, lost aspasia! leontius. suspend the thought. demetrius. all thought on her is madness; yet let me think--i see the helpless maid; behold the monsters gaze with savage rapture, behold how lust and rapine struggle round her! leontius. awake, demetrius, from this dismal dream; sink not beneath imaginary sorrows; call to your aid your courage and your wisdom; think on the sudden change of human scenes; think on the various accidents of war; think on the mighty pow'r of awful virtue; think on that providence that guards the good. demetrius. o providence! extend thy care to me; for courage droops, unequal to the combat; and weak philosophy denies her succours. sure, some kind sabre in the heat of battle, ere yet the foe found leisure to be cruel, dismiss'd her to the sky. leontius. some virgin martyr, perhaps, enamour'd of resembling virtue, with gentle hand, restrain'd the streams of life, and snatch'd her timely from her country's fate. demetrius. from those bright regions of eternal day, where now thou shin'st among thy fellow-saints, array'd in purer light, look down on me: in pleasing visions and assuasive dreams, o! sooth my soul, and teach me how to lose thee. leontius. enough of unavailing tears, demetrius: i come obedient to thy friendly summons, and hop'd to share thy counsels, not thy sorrows: while thus we mourn the fortune of aspasia, to what are we reserv'd? demetrius. to what i know not: but hope, yet hope, to happiness and honour; if happiness can be, without aspasia. leontius. but whence this new-sprung hope? demetrius. from cali bassa, the chief, whose wisdom guides the turkish counsels. he, tir'd of slav'ry, though the highest slave, projects, at once, our freedom and his own; and bids us, thus disguis'd, await him here. leontius. can he restore the state he could not save? in vain, when turkey's troops assail'd our walls, his kind intelligence betray'd their measures; their arms prevail'd, though cali was our friend. demetrius. when the tenth sun had set upon our sorrows, at midnight's private hour, a voice unknown sounds in my sleeping ear, 'awake, demetrius, awake, and follow me to better fortunes.' surpris'd i start, and bless the happy dream; then, rousing, know the fiery chief abdalla, whose quick impatience seiz'd my doubtful hand, and led me to the shore where cali stood, pensive, and list'ning to the beating surge. there, in soft hints, and in ambiguous phrase, with all the diffidence of long experience, that oft had practis'd fraud, and oft detected, the vet'ran courtier half reveal'd his project. by his command, equipp'd for speedy flight, deep in a winding creek a galley lies, mann'd with the bravest of our fellow-captives, selected by my care, a hardy band, that long to hail thee chief. leontius. but what avails so small a force? or, why should cali fly? or, how can call's flight restore our country? demetrius. reserve these questions for a safer hour; or hear himself, for see the bassa comes. scene ii. demetrius, leontius, cali. cali. now summon all thy soul, illustrious christian! awake each faculty that sleeps within thee: the courtier's policy, the sage's firmness, the warriour's ardour, and the patriot's zeal. if, chasing past events with vain pursuit, or wand'ring in the wilds of future being, a single thought now rove, recall it home.-- but can thy friend sustain the glorious cause, the cause of liberty, the cause of nations? demetrius. observe him closely, with a statesman's eye, thou, that hast long perus'd the draughts of nature, and know'st the characters of vice and virtue, left by the hand of heav'n on human clay. cali. his mien is lofty, his demeanour great; nor sprightly folly wantons in his air; nor dull serenity becalms his eyes. such had i trusted once, as soon as seen, but cautious age suspects the flatt'ring form, and only credits what experience tells. has silence press'd her seal upon his lips? does adamantine faith invest his heart? will he not bend beneath a tyrant's frown? will he not melt before ambition's fire? will he not soften in a friend's embrace? or flow dissolving in a woman's tears? demetrius. sooner the trembling leaves shall find a voice, and tell the secrets of their conscious walks; sooner the breeze shall catch the flying sounds, and shock the tyrant with a tale of treason. your slaughter'd multitudes, that swell the shore with monuments of death, proclaim his courage; virtue and liberty engross his soul, and leave no place for perfidy, or fear. leontius. i scorn a trust unwillingly repos'd; demetrius will not lead me to dishonour; consult in private, call me, when your scheme is ripe for action, and demands the sword. [_going_. demetrius. leontius, stay. cali. forgive an old man's weakness, and share the deepest secrets of my soul, my wrongs, my fears, my motives, my designs.-- when unsuccessful wars, and civil factions embroil'd the turkish state, our sultan's father, great amurath, at my request, forsook the cloister's ease, resum'd the tott'ring throne, and snatch'd the reins of abdicated pow'r from giddy mahomet's unskilful hand. this fir'd the youthful king's ambitious breast: he murmurs vengeance, at the name of cali, and dooms my rash fidelity to ruin. demetrius. unhappy lot of all that shine in courts, for forc'd compliance, or for zealous virtue, still odious to the monarch, or the people. cali. such are the woes, when arbitrary pow'r and lawless passion hold the sword of justice. if there be any land, as fame reports, where common laws restrain the prince and subject, a happy land, where circulating pow'r flows through each member of th' embodied state; sure, not unconscious of the mighty blessing, her grateful sons shine bright with every virtue; untainted with the lust of innovation, sure, all unite to hold her league of rule unbroken, as the sacred chain of nature that links the jarring elements in peace. leontius. but say, great bassa, why the sultan's anger, burning in vain, delays the stroke of death? cali. young, and unsettled in his father's kingdoms, fierce as he was, he dreaded to destroy the empire's darling, and the soldier's boast; but now confirm'd, and swelling with his conquests, secure, he tramples my declining fame, frowns unrestrain'd, and dooms me with his eyes. demetrius. what can reverse thy doom? cali. the tyrant's death. demetrius. but greece is still forgot. cali. on asia's coast, which lately bless'd my gentle government, soon as the sultan's unexpected fate fills all th' astonish'd empire with confusion, my policy shall raise an easy throne; the turkish pow'rs from europe shall retreat, and harass greece no more with wasteful war. a galley mann'd with greeks, thy charge, leontius, attends to waft us to repose and safety. demetrius. that vessel, if observ'd, alarms the court, and gives a thousand fatal questions birth: why stor'd for flight? and why prepar'd by cali? cali. this hour i'll beg, with unsuspecting face, leave to perform my pilgrimage to mecca; which granted, hides my purpose from the world, and, though refus'd, conceals it from the sultan. leontius. how can a single hand attempt a life, which armies guard, and citadels enclose? cali. forgetful of command, with captive beauties, far from his troops, he toys his hours away. a roving soldier seiz'd, in sophia's temple, a virgin, shining with distinguish'd charms, and brought his beauteous plunder to the sultan-- demetrius. in sophia's temple!--what alarm!--proceed. cali. the sultan gaz'd, he wonder'd, and he lov'd: in passion lost, he bade the conqu'ring fair renounce her faith, and be the queen of turkey. the pious maid, with modest indignation, threw back the glitt'ring bribe. demetrius. celestial goodness! it must, it must be she;--her name? cali. aspasia. demetrius. what hopes, what terrours, rush upon my soul! o lead me quickly to the scene of fate; break through the politician's tedious forms; aspasia calls me, let me fly to save her. leontius. did mahomet reproach, or praise her virtue? cali. his offers, oft repeated, still refus'd, at length rekindled his accustomed fury, and chang'd th' endearing smile, and am'rous whisper to threats of torture, death, and violation. demetrius. these tedious narratives of frozen age distract my soul;--despatch thy ling'ring tale; say, did a voice from heav'n restrain the tyrant? did interposing angels guard her from him? cali. just in the moment of impending fate, another plund'rer brought the bright irene; of equal beauty, but of softer mien, fear in her eye, submission on her tongue, her mournful charms attracted his regards, disarm'd his rage, and, in repeated visits, gain'd all his heart; at length, his eager love to her transferr'd the offer of a crown, leontius. nor found again the bright temptation fail? cali. trembling to grant, nor daring to refuse, while heav'n and mahomet divide her fears, with coy caresses and with pleasing wiles she feeds his hopes, and sooths him to delay. for her, repose is banish'd from the night, and bus'ness from the day: in her apartments he lives-- leontius. and there must fall. cali. but yet, th' attempt is hazardous. leontius. forbear to speak of hazards; what has the wretch, that has surviv'd his country, his friends, his liberty, to hazard? cali. life. demetrius. th' inestimable privilege of breathing! important hazard! what's that airy bubble, when weigh'd with greece, with virtue, with aspasia?-- a floating atom, dust that falls, unheeded, into the adverse scale, nor shakes the balance. cali. at least, this day be calm--if we succeed, aspasia's thine, and all thy life is rapture.-- see! mustapha, the tyrant's minion, comes; invest leontius with his new command; and wait abdalla's unsuspected visits: remember freedom, glory, greece, and love. [_exeunt_ demetrius _and_ leontius. scene iii. cali, mustapha. mustapha. by what enchantment does this lovely greek hold in her chains the captivated sultan? he tires his fav'rites with irene's praise, and seeks the shades to muse upon irene; irene steals, unheeded, from his tongue, and mingles, unperceiv'd, with ev'ry thought. cali. why should the sultan shun the joys of beauty, or arm his breast against the force of love? love, that with sweet vicissitude relieves the warriour's labours and the monarch's cares. but, will she yet receive the faith of mecca? mustapha. those pow'rful tyrants of the female breast, fear and ambition, urge her to compliance; dress'd in each charm of gay magnificence, alluring grandeur courts her to his arms, religion calls her from the wish'd embrace, paints future joys, and points to distant glories. cali. soon will th' unequal contest be decided. prospects, obscur'd by distance, faintly strike; each pleasure brightens, at its near approach, and ev'ry danger shocks with double horrour. mustapha. how shall i scorn the beautiful apostate! how will the bright aspasia shine above her! cali. should she, for proselytes are always zealous, with pious warmth receive our prophet's law-- mustapha. heav'n will contemn the mercenary fervour, which love of greatness, not of truth, inflames. cali. cease, cease thy censures; for the sultan comes alone, with am'rous haste to seek his love. scene iv. mahomet, cali, mustapha. cali. hail! terrour of the monarchs of the world; unshaken be thy throne, as earth's firm base; live, till the sun forgets to dart his beams, and weary planets loiter in their courses! mahomet. but, cali, let irene share thy prayers; for what is length of days, without irene? i come from empty noise, and tasteless pomp, from crowds, that hide a monarch from himself, to prove the sweets of privacy and friendship, and dwell upon the beauties of irene. cali. o may her beauties last, unchang'd by time, as those that bless the mansions of the good! mahomet. each realm, where beauty turns the graceful shape, swells the fair breast, or animates the glance, adorns my palace with its brightest virgins; yet, unacquainted with these soft emotions, i walk'd superiour through the blaze of charms, prais'd without rapture, left without regret. why rove i now, when absent from my fair, from solitude to crowds, from crowds to solitude, still restless, till i clasp the lovely maid, and ease my loaded soul upon her bosom? mustapha. forgive, great sultan, that intrusive duty inquires the final doom of menodorus, the grecian counsellor. mahomet. go, see him die; his martial rhet'rick taught the greeks resistance; had they prevail'd, i ne'er had known irene. [_exit_ mustapha. scene v. mahomet, cali. mahomet. remote from tumult, in th' adjoining palace, thy care shall guard this treasure of my soul: there let aspasia, since my fair entreats it, with converse chase the melancholy moments. sure, chill'd with sixty winter camps, thy blood, at sight of female charms, will glow no more. cali. these years, unconquer'd mahomet, demand desires more pure, and other cares than love. long have i wish'd, before our prophet's tomb, to pour my pray'rs for thy successful reign, to quit the tumults of the noisy camp, and sink into the silent grave in peace. mahomet. what! think of peace, while haughty scanderbeg, elate with conquest, in his native mountains, prowls o'er the wealthy spoils of bleeding turkey! while fair hungaria's unexhausted valleys pour forth their legions; and the roaring danube rolls half his floods, unheard, through shouting camps! nor could'st thou more support a life of sloth than amurath-- cali. still, full of amurath! [_aside_. mahomet. than amurath, accustom'd to command, could bear his son upon the turkish throne. cali. this pilgrimage our lawgiver ordain'd-- mahomet. for those, who could not please by nobler service.-- our warlike prophet loves an active faith. the holy flame of enterprising virtue mocks the dull vows of solitude and penance, and scorns the lazy hermit's cheap devotion. shine thou, distinguish'd by superiour merit; with wonted zeal pursue the task of war, till ev'ry nation reverence the koran, and ev'ry suppliant lift his eyes to mecca. cali. this regal confidence, this pious ardour, let prudence moderate, though not suppress. is not each realm, that smiles with kinder suns, or boasts a happier soil, already thine? extended empire, like expanded gold, exchanges solid strength for feeble splendour. mahomet. preach thy dull politicks to vulgar kings, thou know'st not yet thy master's future greatness, his vast designs, his plans of boundless pow'r. when ev'ry storm in my domain shall roar, when ev'ry wave shall beat a turkish shore; then, cali, shall the toils of battle cease, then dream of pray'r, and pilgrimage, and peace. [_exeunt_. act ii.--scene i. aspasia, irene. irene. aspasia, yet pursue the sacred theme; exhaust the stores of pious eloquence, and teach me to repel the sultan's passion. still, at aspasia's voice, a sudden rapture exalts my soul, and fortifies my heart; the glitt'ring vanities of empty greatness, the hopes and fears, the joys and pains of life, dissolve in air, and vanish into nothing. aspasia. let nobler hopes and juster fears succeed, and bar the passes of irene's mind against returning guilt. irene. when thou art absent, death rises to my view, with all his terrours; then visions, horrid as a murd'rer's dreams, chill my resolves, and blast my blooming virtue: stern torture shakes his bloody scourge before me, and anguish gnashes on the fatal wheel. aspasia. since fear predominates in ev'ry thought, and sways thy breast with absolute dominion, think on th' insulting scorn, the conscious pangs, the future mis'ries, that wait th' apostate; so shall timidity assist thy reason, and wisdom into virtue turn thy frailty. irene. will not that pow'r, that form'd the heart of woman, and wove the feeble texture of her nerves, forgive those fears that shake the tender frame? aspasia. the weakness we lament, ourselves create; instructed, from our infant years, to court, with counterfeited fears, the aid of man, we learn to shudder at the rustling breeze, start at the light, and tremble in the dark; till, affectation ripening to belief, and folly, frighted at her own chimeras, habitual cowardice usurps the soul. irene. not all, like thee, can brave the shocks of fate. thy soul, by nature great, enlarg'd by knowledge, soars unincumber'd with our idle cares, and all aspasia, but her beauty's man. aspasia. each gen'rous sentiment is thine, demetrius, whose soul, perhaps, yet mindful of aspasia, now hovers o'er this melancholy shade, well pleas'd to find thy precepts not forgotten. oh! could the grave restore the pious hero, soon would his art or valour set us free, and bear us far from servitude and crimes. irene. he yet may live. aspasia. alas! delusive dream! too well i know him; his immoderate courage, th' impetuous sallies of excessive virtue, too strong for love, have hurried him on death. scene ii. aspasia, irene, cali, abdalla. cali _to_ abdalla, _as they advance_. behold our future sultaness, abdalla;-- let artful flatt'ry now, to lull suspicion, glide, through irene, to the sultan's ear. would'st thou subdue th' obdurate cannibal to tender friendship, praise him to his mistress. [_to_ irene.] well may those eyes, that view these heav'nly charms, reject the daughters of contending kings; for what are pompous titles, proud alliance, empire or wealth, to excellence like thine? abdalla. receive th' impatient sultan to thy arms; and may a long posterity of monarchs, the pride and terrour of succeeding days, rise from the happy bed; and future queens diffuse irene's beauty through the world! irene. can mahomet's imperial hand descend to clasp a slave? or can a soul, like mine, unus'd to pow'r, and form'd for humbler scenes, support the splendid miseries of greatness? cali. no regal pageant, deck'd with casual honours, scorn'd by his subjects, trampled by his foes; no feeble tyrant of a petty state, courts thee to shake on a dependant throne; born to command, as thou to charm mankind, the sultan from himself derives his greatness. observe, bright maid, as his resistless voice drives on the tempest of destructive war, how nation after nation falls before him. abdalla. at his dread name the distant mountains shake their cloudy summits, and the sons of fierceness, that range uncivilized from rock to rock, distrust th' eternal fortresses of nature, and wish their gloomy caverns more obscure. aspasia. forbear this lavish pomp of dreadful praise; the horrid images of war and slaughter renew our sorrows, and awake our fears. abdalla. cali, methinks yon waving trees afford a doubtful glimpse of our approaching friends; just as i mark'd them, they forsook the shore, and turn'd their hasty steps towards the garden. cali. conduct these queens, abdalla, to the palace: such heav'nly beauty, form'd for adoration, the pride of monarchs, the reward of conquest! such beauty must not shine to vulgar eyes. scene iii. cali, _solus_. how heav'n, in scorn of human arrogance, commits to trivial chance the fate of nations! while, with incessant thought, laborious man extends his mighty schemes of wealth and pow'r, and towers and triumphs in ideal greatness; some accidental gust of opposition blasts all the beauties of his new creation, o'erturns the fabrick of presumptuous reason, and whelms the swelling architect beneath it. had not the breeze untwin'd the meeting boughs, and, through the parted shade, disclos'd the greeks, th' important hour had pass'd, unheeded, by, in all the sweet oblivion of delight, in all the fopperies of meeting lovers; in sighs and tears, in transports and embraces, in soft complaints, and idle protestations. scene iv. cali, demetrius, leontius. cali. could omens fright the resolute and wise, well might we fear impending disappointments. leontius. your artful suit, your monarch's fierce denial, the cruel doom of hapless menodorus-- demetrius. and your new charge, that dear, that heav'nly maid-- leontius. all this we know already from abdalla. demetrius. such slight defeats but animate the brave to stronger efforts and maturer counsels. cali. my doom confirm'd establishes my purpose. calmly he heard, till amurath's resumption rose to his thought, and set his soul on fire: when from his lips the fatal name burst out, a sudden pause th' imperfect sense suspended, like the dread stillness of condensing storms. demetrius. the loudest cries of nature urge us forward; despotick rage pursues the life of cali; his groaning country claims leontius' aid; and yet another voice, forgive me, greece, the pow'rful voice of love, inflames demetrius; each ling'ring hour alarms me for aspasia. cali. what passions reign among thy crew, leontius? does cheerless diffidence oppress their hearts? or sprightly hope exalt their kindling spirits? do they, with pain, repress the struggling shout, and listen eager to the rising wind? leontius. all there is hope, and gaiety, and courage, no cloudy doubts, or languishing delays; ere i could range them on the crowded deck, at once a hundred voices thunder'd round me, and ev'ry voice was liberty and greece. demetrius. swift let us rush upon the careless tyrant, nor give him leisure for another crime. leontius. then let us now resolve, nor idly waste another hour in dull deliberation. cali. but see, where destin'd to protract our counsels, comes mustapha.--your turkish robes conceal you. retire with speed, while i prepare to meet him with artificial smiles, and seeming friendship. scene v. cali, mustapha. cali. i see the gloom, that low'rs upon thy brow; these days of love and pleasure charm not thee; too slow these gentle constellations roll; thou long'st for stars, that frown on human kind, and scatter discord from their baleful beams. mustapha. how blest art thou, still jocund and serene, beneath the load of business, and of years! cali. sure, by some wond'rous sympathy of souls, my heart still beats responsive to the sultan's; i share, by secret instinct, all his joys, and feel no sorrow, while my sov'reign smiles. mustapha. the sultan comes, impatient for his love; conduct her hither; let no rude intrusion molest these private walks, or care invade these hours, assign'd to pleasure and irene. scene vi. mahomet, mustapha. mahomet. now, mustapha, pursue thy tale of horrour. has treason's dire infection reach'd my palace? can cali dare the stroke of heav'nly justice, in the dark precincts of the gaping grave, and load with perjuries his parting soul? was it for this, that, sick'ning in epirus, my father call'd me to his couch of death, join'd cali's hand to mine, and falt'ring cried, restrain the fervour of impetuous youth with venerable cali's faithful counsels? are these the counsels, this the faith of cali? were all our favours lavish'd on a villain? confest?-- mustapha. confest by dying menodorus. in his last agonies, the gasping coward, amidst the tortures of the burning steel, still fond of life, groan'd out the dreadful secret, held forth this fatal scroll, then sunk to nothing. mahomet. _examining the paper_. his correspondence with our foes of greece! his hand! his seal! the secrets of my soul, conceal'd from all but him! all, all conspire to banish doubt, and brand him for a villain! our schemes for ever cross'd, our mines discover'd, betray'd some traitor lurking near my bosom. oft have i rag'd, when their wide-wasting cannon lay pointed at our batt'ries yet unform'd, and broke the meditated lines of war. detested cali, too, with artful wonder, would shake his wily head, and closely whisper, beware of mustapha, beware of treason. mustapha. the faith of mustapha disdains suspicion; but yet, great emperour, beware of treason; th' insidious bassa, fir'd by disappointment-- mahomet. shall feel the vengeance of an injur'd king. go, seize him, load him with reproachful chains; before th' assembled troops, proclaim his crimes; then leave him, stretch'd upon the ling'ring rack, amidst the camp to howl his life away. mustapha. should we, before the troops, proclaim his crimes, i dread his arts of seeming innocence, his bland address, and sorcery of tongue; and, should he fall, unheard, by sudden justice, th' adoring soldiers would revenge their idol. mahomet. cali, this day, with hypocritick zeal, implor'd my leave to visit mecca's temple; struck with the wonder of a statesman's goodness, i rais'd his thoughts to more sublime devotion. now let him go, pursu'd by silent wrath, meet unexpected daggers in his way, and, in some distant land, obscurely die. mustapha. there will his boundless wealth, the spoil of asia, heap'd by your father's ill-plac'd bounties on him, disperse rebellion through the eastern world; bribe to his cause, and list beneath his banners, arabia's roving troops, the sons of swiftness, and arm the persian heretick against thee; there shall he waste thy frontiers, check thy conquests, and, though at length subdued, elude thy vengeance. mahomet. elude my vengeance! no--my troops shall range th' eternal snows that freeze beyond maeotis, and africk's torrid sands, in search of cali. should the fierce north, upon his frozen wings, bear him aloft, above the wond'ring clouds, and seat him in the pleiads' golden chariots, thence shall my fury drag him down to tortures; wherever guilt can fly, revenge can follow. mustapha. wilt thou dismiss the savage from the toils, only to hunt him round the ravag'd world? mahomet. suspend his sentence--empire and irene claim my divided soul. this wretch, unworthy to mix with nobler cares, i'll throw aside for idle hours, and crush him at my leisure. mustapha. let not th' unbounded greatness of his mind betray my king to negligence of danger. perhaps, the clouds of dark conspiracy now roll, full fraught with thunder, o'er your head. twice, since the morning rose, i saw the bassa, like a fell adder swelling in a brake, beneath the covert of this verdant arch, in private conference; beside him stood two men unknown, the partners of his bosom; i mark'd them well, and trac'd in either face the gloomy resolution, horrid greatness, and stern composure, of despairing heroes; and, to confirm my thoughts, at sight of me, as blasted by my presence, they withdrew, with all the speed of terrour and of guilt. mahomet. the strong emotions of my troubled soul allow no pause for art or for contrivance; and dark perplexity distracts my counsels. do thou resolve: for, see, irene comes! at her approach each ruder gust of thought sinks, like the sighing of a tempest spent, and gales of softer passion fan my bosom. [cali _enters with_ irene, _and exit [transcriber's note: sic] with_ mustapha. scene vii. mahomet, irene. mahomet. wilt thou descend, fair daughter of perfection, to hear my vows, and give mankind a queen? ah! cease, irene, cease those flowing sorrows, that melt a heart impregnable till now, and turn thy thoughts, henceforth, to love and empire. how will the matchless beauties of irene, thus bright in tears, thus amiable in ruin, with all the graceful pride of greatness heighten'd, amidst the blaze of jewels and of gold, adorn a throne, and dignify dominion! irene. why all this glare of splendid eloquence, to paint the pageantries of guilty state? must i, for these, renounce the hope of heav'n, immortal crowns, and fulness of enjoyment? mahomet. vain raptures all--for your inferiour natures, form'd to delight, and happy by delighting, heav'n has reserv'd no future paradise, but bids you rove the paths of bliss, secure of total death, and careless of hereafter; while heaven's high minister, whose awful volume records each act, each thought of sov'reign man, surveys your plays with inattentive glance, and leaves the lovely trifler unregarded. irene. why then has nature's vain munificence profusely pour'd her bounties upon woman? whence, then, those charms thy tongue has deign'd to flatter, that air resistless, and enchanting blush, unless the beauteous fabrick was design'd a habitation for a fairer soul? mahomet. too high, bright maid, thou rat'st exteriour grace: not always do the fairest flow'rs diffuse the richest odours, nor the speckled shells conceal the gem; let female arrogance observe the feather'd wand'rers of the sky; with purple varied, and bedrop'd with gold, they prune the wing, and spread the glossy plumes, ordain'd, like you, to flutter and to shine, and cheer the weary passenger with musick. irene. mean as we are, this tyrant of the world implores our smiles, and trembles at our feet. whence flow the hopes and fears, despair and rapture, whence all the bliss and agonies of love? mahomet. why, when the balm of sleep descends on man, do gay delusions, wand'ring o'er the brain, sooth the delighted soul with empty bliss? to want, give affluence? and to slav'ry, freedom? such are love's joys, the lenitives of life, a fancy'd treasure, and a waking dream. irene. then let me once, in honour of our sex, assume the boastful arrogance of man. th' attractive softness, and th' endearing smile, and pow'rful glance, 'tis granted, are our own; nor has impartial nature's frugal hand exhausted all her nobler gifts on you. do not we share the comprehensive thought, th' enlivening wit, the penetrating reason? beats not the female breast with gen'rous passions, the thirst of empire, and the love of glory? mahomet. illustrious maid, new wonders fix me thine; thy soul completes the triumphs of thy face. i thought (forgive, my fair,) the noblest aim, the strongest effort of a female soul, was but to choose the graces of the day; to tune the tongue, to teach the eyes to roll, dispose the colours of the flowing robe, and add new roses to the faded cheek. will it not charm a mind, like thine, exalted, to shine, the goddess of applauding nations; to scatter happiness and plenty round thee, to bid the prostrate captive rise and live, to see new cities tow'r, at thy command, and blasted kingdoms flourish, at thy smile? irene. charm'd with the thought of blessing human kind, too calm i listen to the flatt'ring sounds. mahomet. o! seize the power to bless--irene's nod shall break the fetters of the groaning christian; greece, in her lovely patroness secure, shall mourn no more her plunder'd palaces. irene. forbear--o! do not urge me to my ruin! mahomet. to state and pow'r i court thee, not to ruin: smile on my wishes, and command the globe. security shall spread her shield before thee, and love infold thee with his downy wings. if greatness please thee, mount th' imperial seat; if pleasure charm thee, view this soft retreat; here ev'ry warbler of the sky shall sing; here ev'ry fragrance breathe of ev'ry spring: to deck these bow'rs each region shall combine, and e'en our prophet's gardens envy thine: empire and love shall share the blissful day, and varied life steal, unperceiv'd, away. [_exeunt_. act iii.--scene i. cali, abdalla. [cali _enters, with a discontented air; to him enters_ abdalla.] cali. is this the fierce conspirator, abdalla? is this the restless diligence of treason? where hast thou linger'd, while th' incumber'd hours fly, lab'ring with the fate of future nations, and hungry slaughter scents imperial blood? abdalla. important cares detain'd me from your counsels. cali. some petty passion! some domestick trifle! some vain amusement of a vacant soul! a weeping wife, perhaps, or dying friend, hung on your neck, and hinder'd your departure. is this a time for softness or for sorrow? unprofitable, peaceful, female virtues! when eager vengeance shows a naked foe, and kind ambition points the way to greatness. abdalla. must then ambition's votaries infringe the laws of kindness, break the bonds of nature, and quit the names of brother, friend, and father? cali. this sov'reign passion, scornful of restraint, e'en from the birth, affects supreme command, swells in the breast, and, with resistless force, o'erbears each gentler motion of the mind: as, when a deluge overspreads the plains, the wand'ring rivulet, and silver lake, mix undistinguish'd with the gen'ral roar. abdalla. yet can ambition, in abdalla's breast, claim but the second place: there mighty love has fix'd his hopes, inquietudes, and fears, his glowing wishes, and his jealous pangs. cali. love is, indeed, the privilege of youth; yet, on a day like this, when expectation pants for the dread event--but let us reason-- abdalla. hast thou grown old, amidst the crowd of courts, and turn'd th' instructive page of human life, to cant, at last, of reason to a lover? such ill-tim'd gravity, such serious folly, might well befit the solitary student, th' unpractis'd dervis, or sequester'd faquir. know'st thou not yet, when love invades the soul, that all her faculties receive his chains? that reason gives her sceptre to his hand, or only struggles to be more enslav'd? aspasia, who can look upon thy beauties? who hear thee speak, and not abandon reason? reason! the hoary dotard's dull directress, that loses all, because she hazards nothing! reason! the tim'rous pilot, that, to shun the rocks of life, for ever flies the port! cali. but why this sudden warmth? abdalla. because i love: because my slighted passion burns in vain! why roars the lioness, distress'd by hunger? why foam the swelling waves, when tempests rise? why shakes the ground, when subterraneous fires fierce through the bursting caverns rend their way? cali. not till this day, thou saw'st this fatal fair; did ever passion make so swift a progress? once more reflect; suppress this infant folly. abdalla. gross fires, enkindled by a mortal hand, spread, by degrees, and dread th' oppressing stream; the subtler flames, emitted from the sky, flash out at once, with strength above resistance. cali. how did aspasia welcome your address? did you proclaim this unexpected conquest? or pay, with speaking eyes, a lover's homage? abdalla. confounded, aw'd, and lost in admiration, i gaz'd, i trembled; but i could not speak; when e'en, as love was breaking off from wonder, and tender accents quiver'd on my lips, she mark'd my sparkling eyes, and heaving breast, and smiling, conscious of her charms, withdrew. [_enter_ demetrius _and_ leontius. cali. now be, some moments, master of thyself; nor let demetrius know thee for a rival. hence! or be calm--to disagree is ruin. scene ii. cali, demetrius, leontius, abdalla. demetrius. when will occasion smile upon our wishes, and give the tortures of suspense a period? still must we linger in uncertain hope? still languish in our chains, and dream of freedom, like thirsty sailors gazing on the clouds, till burning death shoots through their wither'd limbs? cali. deliverance is at hand; for turkey's tyrant, sunk in his pleasures, confident and gay, with all the hero's dull security, trusts to my care his mistress and his life, and laughs, and wantons in the jaws of death. leontius. so weak is man, when destin'd to destruction!-- the watchful slumber, and the crafty trust. cali. at my command, yon iron gates unfold; at my command, the sentinels retire; with all the license of authority, through bowing slaves, i range the private rooms, and of to-morrow's action fix the scene. demetrius. to-morrow's action! can that hoary wisdom, borne down with years, still dote upon to-morrow? that fatal mistress of the young, the lazy, the coward, and the fool, condemn'd to lose an useless life, in waiting for to-morrow, to gaze with longing eyes upon to-morrow, till interposing death destroys the prospect! strange! that this gen'ral fraud, from day to day, should fill the world with wretches undetected. the soldier, lab'ring through a winter's march, still sees to-morrow drest in robes of triumph; still to the lover's long-expecting arms to-morrow brings the visionary bride. but thou, too old to bear another cheat, learn, that the present hour alone is man's. leontius. the present hour, with open arms, invites; seize the kind fair, and press her to thy bosom. demetrius. who knows, ere this important morrow rise, but fear or mutiny may taint the greeks? who knows, if mahomet's awaking anger may spare the fatal bowstring till to-morrow? abdalla. had our first asian foes but known this ardour, we still had wander'd on tartarian hills. rouse, cali; shall the sons of conquer'd greece lead us to danger, and abash their victors? this night, with all her conscious stars, be witness, who merits most, demetrius or abdalla. demetrius. who merits most!--i knew not, we were rivals. cali. young man, forbear--the heat of youth, no more-- well,--'tis decreed--this night shall fix our fate. soon as the veil of ev'ning clouds the sky, with cautious secrecy, leontius, steer th' appointed vessel to yon shaded bay, form'd by this garden jutting on the deep; there, with your soldiers arm'd, and sails expanded, await our coming, equally prepar'd for speedy flight, or obstinate defence. [exit leont. scene iii. cali, abdalla, demetrius. demetrius. now pause, great bassa, from the thoughts of blood, and kindly grant an ear to gentler sounds. if e'er thy youth has known the pangs of absence, or felt th' impatience of obstructed love, give me, before th' approaching hour of fate, once to behold the charms of bright aspasia, and draw new virtue from her heav'nly tongue. cali. let prudence, ere the suit be farther urg'd, impartial weigh the pleasure with the danger. a little longer, and she's thine for ever. demetrius. prudence and love conspire in this request, lest, unacquainted with our bold attempt, surprise o'erwhelm her, and retard our flight. cali. what i can grant, you cannot ask in vain-- demetrius. i go to wait thy call; this kind consent completes the gift of freedom and of life. [_exit_ dem. scene iv. cali, abdalla. abdalla. and this is my reward--to burn, to languish, to rave, unheeded; while the happy greek, the refuse of our swords, the dross of conquest, throws his fond arms about aspasia's neck, dwells on her lips, and sighs upon her breast. is't not enough, he lives by our indulgence, but he must live to make his masters wretched? cali. what claim hast thou to plead? abdalla. the claim of pow'r, th' unquestion'd claim of conquerors and kings! cali. yet, in the use of pow'r, remember justice. abdalla. can then th' assassin lift his treach'rous hand against his king, and cry, remember justice? justice demands the forfeit life of cali; justice demands, that i reveal your crimes; justice demands--but see th' approaching sultan! oppose my wishes, and--remember justice. cali. disorder sits upon thy face--retire. [_exit_ abdalla; enter mahomet. scene v. cali, mahomet. cali. long be the sultan bless'd with happy love! my zeal marks gladness dawning on thy cheek, with raptures, such as fire the pagan crowds, when, pale and anxious for their years to come, they see the sun surmount the dark eclipse, and hail, unanimous, their conqu'ring god. mahomet. my vows, 'tis true, she hears with less aversion; she sighs, she blushes, but she still denies. cali. with warmer courtship press the yielding fair: call to your aid, with boundless promises, each rebel wish, each traitor inclination, that raises tumults in the female breast, the love of pow'r, of pleasure, and of show. mahomet. these arts i try'd, and, to inflame her more, by hateful business hurried from her sight, i bade a hundred virgins wait around her, sooth her with all the pleasures of command, applaud her charms, and court her to be great. [_exit_ mahomet. scene vi. cali, _solus_. he's gone--here rest, my soul, thy fainting wing; here recollect thy dissipated pow'rs.-- our distant int'rests, and our diff'rent passions. now haste to mingle in one common centre. and fate lies crowded in a narrow space. yet, in that narrow space what dangers rise!-- far more i dread abdalla's fiery folly, than all the wisdom of the grave divan. reason with reason fights on equal terms; the raging madman's unconnected schemes we cannot obviate, for we cannot guess. deep in my breast be treasur'd this resolve, when cali mounts the throne, abdalla dies, too fierce, too faithless, for neglect or trust. [_enter_ irene _with attendants_. scene vii. cali, irene, aspasia, &c. cali. amidst the splendour of encircling beauty, superiour majesty proclaims thee queen, and nature justifies our monarch's choice. irene. reserve this homage for some other fair; urge me not on to glitt'ring guilt, nor pour in my weak ear th' intoxicating sounds. cali. make haste, bright maid, to rule the willing world; aw'd by the rigour of the sultan's justice, we court thy gentleness. aspasia. can cali's voice concur to press a hapless captive's ruin? cali. long would my zeal for mahomet and thee detain me here. but nations call upon me, and duty bids me choose a distant walk, nor taint with care the privacies of love. scene viii. irene, aspasia, _attendants_. aspasia. if yet this shining pomp, these sudden honours, swell not thy soul, beyond advice or friendship, nor yet inspire the follies of a queen, or tune thine ear to soothing adulation, suspend awhile the privilege of pow'r, to hear the voice of truth; dismiss thy train, shake off th' incumbrances of state, a moment, and lay the tow'ring sultaness aside, irene _signs to her attendants to retire_. while i foretell thy fate: that office done,-- no more i boast th' ambitious name of friend, but sink among thy slaves, without a murmur. irene. did regal diadems invest my brow, yet should my soul, still faithful to her choice, esteem aspasia's breast the noblest kingdom. aspasia. the soul, once tainted with so foul a crime, no more shall glow with friendship's hallow'd ardour: those holy beings, whose superiour care guides erring mortals to the paths of virtue, affrighted at impiety, like thine, resign their charge to baseness and to ruin[a]. [a] in the original copy of this tragedy, given to mr. langton, the above speech is as follows; and, in mr. boswell's judgment, is finer than in the present editions: "nor think to say, here will i stop; here will i fix the limits of transgression, nor farther tempt the avenging rage of heaven. when guilt, like this, once harbours in the breast, those holy beings, whose unseen direction guides, through the maze of life, the steps of man. fly the detested mansions of impiety, and quit their charge to horrour and to ruin." see boswell, i. for other compared extracts from the first sketch. --ed. irene. upbraid me not with fancied wickedness; i am not yet a queen, or an apostate. but should i sin beyond the hope of mercy, if, when religion prompts me to refuse, the dread of instant death restrains my tongue? aspasia. reflect, that life and death, affecting sounds! are only varied modes of endless being; reflect, that life, like ev'ry other blessing, derives its value from its use alone; not for itself, but for a nobler end, th' eternal gave it, and that end is virtue. when inconsistent with a greater good, reason commands to cast the less away: thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserv'd, and virtue cheaply say'd, with loss of life. irene. if built on settled thought, this constancy not idly flutters on a boastful tongue, why, when destruction rag'd around our walls, why fled this haughty heroine from the battle? why, then, did not this warlike amazon mix in the war, and shine among the heroes? aspasia. heav'n, when its hand pour'd softness on our limbs, unfit for toil, and polish'd into weakness, made passive fortitude the praise of woman: our only arms are innocence and meekness. not then with raving cries i fill'd the city; but, while demetrius, dear, lamented name! pour'd storms of fire upon our fierce invaders, implor'd th' eternal pow'r to shield my country, with silent sorrows, and with calm devotion. irene. o! did irene shine the queen of turkey, no more should greece lament those pray'rs rejected; again, should golden splendour grace her cities, again, her prostrate palaces should rise, again, her temples sound with holy musick: no more should danger fright, or want distress the smiling widows, and protected orphans. aspasia. be virtuous ends pursued by virtuous means, nor think th' intention sanctifies the deed: that maxim, publish'd in an impious age, would loose the wild enthusiast to destroy, and fix the fierce usurper's bloody title; then bigotry might send her slaves to war, and bid success become the test of truth: unpitying massacre might waste the world, and persecution boast the call of heaven. irene. shall i not wish to cheer afflicted kings, and plan the happiness of mourning millions? aspasia. dream not of pow'r, thou never canst attain: when social laws first harmoniz'd the world, superiour man possess'd the charge of rule, the scale of justice, and the sword of power, nor left us aught, but flattery and state. irene. to me my lover's fondness will restore whate'er man's pride has ravish'd from our sex. aspasia. when soft security shall prompt the sultan, freed from the tumults of unsettled conquest, to fix his court, and regulate his pleasures, soon shall the dire seraglio's horrid gates close, like th' eternal bars of death, upon thee. immur'd, and buried in perpetual sloth, that gloomy slumber of the stagnant soul, there shalt thou view, from far, the quiet cottage, and sigh for cheerful poverty in vain; there wear the tedious hours of life away, beneath each curse of unrelenting heav'n, despair and slav'ry, solitude and guilt. irene. there shall we find the yet untasted bliss of grandeur and tranquillity combin'd. aspasia. tranquillity and guilt, disjoin'd by heaven, still stretch in vain their longing arms afar; nor dare to pass th' insuperable bound. ah! let me rather seek the convent's cell; there, when my thoughts, at interval of prayer, descend to range these mansions of misfortune, oft shall i dwell on our disastrous friendship, and shed the pitying tear for lost irene. irene. go, languish on in dull obscurity; thy dazzled soul, with all its boasted greatness, shrinks at th' o'erpow'ring gleams of regal state, stoops from the blaze, like a degen'rate eagle, and flies for shelter to the shades of life. aspasia. on me should providence, without a crime, the weighty charge of royalty confer; call me to civilize the russian wilds, or bid soft science polish britain's heroes; soon should'st thou see, how false thy weak reproach, my bosom feels, enkindled from the sky, the lambent flames of mild benevolence, untouch'd by fierce ambition's raging fires. irene. ambition is the stamp, impress'd by heav'n to mark the noblest minds; with active heat inform'd, they mount the precipice of pow'r, grasp at command, and tow'r in quest of empire; while vulgar souls compassionate their cares, gaze at their height, and tremble at their danger: thus meaner spirits, with amazement, mark the varying seasons, and revolving skies, and ask, what guilty pow'r's rebellious hand rolls with eternal toil the pond'rous orbs; while some archangel, nearer to perfection, in easy state, presides o'er all their motions, directs the planets, with a careless nod, conducts the sun, and regulates the spheres. aspasia. well may'st thou hide in labyrinths of sound the cause that shrinks from reason's pow'rful voice. stoop from thy flight, trace back th' entangled thought, and set the glitt'ring fallacy to view. not pow'r i blame, but pow'r obtain'd by crime; angelick greatness is angelick virtue. amidst the glare of courts, the shout of armies, will not th' apostate feel the pangs of guilt, and wish, too late, for innocence and peace, curst, as the tyrant of th' infernal realms, with gloomy state and agonizing pomp? scene ix. irene, aspasia, maid. maid. a turkish stranger, of majestick mien, asks at the gate admission to aspasia, commission'd, as he says, by cali bassa. irene. whoe'er thou art, or whatsoe'er thy message, [aside. thanks for this kind relief--with speed admit him. aspasia. he comes, perhaps, to separate us for ever; when i am gone, remember, o! remember, that none are great, or happy, but the virtuous. [_exit_ irene; _enter_ demetrius. scene x. aspasia, demetrius. demetrius. 'tis she--my hope, my happiness, my love! aspasia! do i, once again, behold thee? still, still the same--unclouded by misfortune! let my blest eyes for ever gaze-- aspasia. demetrius! demetrius. why does the blood forsake thy lovely cheek? why shoots this chilness through thy shaking nerves? why does thy soul retire into herself? recline upon my breast thy sinking beauties: revive--revive to freedom and to love. aspasia. what well-known voice pronounc'd the grateful sounds, freedom and love? alas! i'm all confusion; a sudden mist o'ercasts my darken'd soul; the present, past, and future swim before me, lost in a wild perplexity of joy. demetrius. such ecstasy of love, such pure affection, what worth can merit? or what faith reward? aspasia. a thousand thoughts, imperfect and distracted, demand a voice, and struggle into birth; a thousand questions press upon my tongue, but all give way to rapture and demetrius. demetrius. o say, bright being, in this age of absence, what fears, what griefs, what dangers, hast thou known? say, how the tyrant threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd! say, how he threaten'd, flatter'd, sigh'd in vain! say, how the hand of violence was rais'd! say, how thou call'dst in tears upon demetrius! aspasia. inform me rather, how thy happy courage stemm'd in the breach the deluge of destruction, and pass'd, uninjur'd, through the walks of death. did savage anger and licentious conquest behold the hero with aspasia's eyes? and, thus protected in the gen'ral ruin, o! say, what guardian pow'r convey'd thee hither. demetrius. such strange events, such unexpected chances, beyond my warmest hope, or wildest wishes, concurr'd to give me to aspasia's arms, i stand amaz'd, and ask, if yet i clasp thee. aspasia. sure heav'n, (for wonders are not wrought in vain!) that joins us thus, will never part us more. scene xi. demetrius, aspasia, abdalla. abdalla. it parts you now--the hasty sultan sign'd the laws unread, and flies to his irene. demetrius. fix'd and intent on his irene's charms, he envies none the converse of aspasia. abdalla. aspasia's absence will inflame suspicion; she cannot, must not, shall not, linger here; prudence and friendship bid me force her from you. demetrius. force her! profane her with a touch, and die! abdalla. 'tis greece, 'tis freedom, calls aspasia hence; your careless love betrays your country's cause. demetrius. if we must part-- aspasia. no! let us die together. demetrius. if we must part-- abdalla. despatch; th' increasing danger will not admit a lover's long farewell, the long-drawn intercourse of sighs and kisses. demetrius. then--o! my fair, i cannot bid thee go. receive her, and protect her, gracious heav'n! yet let me watch her dear departing steps; if fate pursues me, let it find me here. reproach not, greece, a lover's fond delays, nor think thy cause neglected, while i gaze; new force, new courage, from each glance i gain, and find our passions not infus'd in vain. [_exeunt_. act iv.--scene i. demetrius, aspasia, _enter as talking_. aspasia. enough--resistless reason calms my soul-- approving justice smiles upon your cause, and nature's rights entreat th' asserting sword. yet, when your hand is lifted to destroy, think, but excuse a woman's needless caution,-- purge well thy mind from ev'ry private passion, drive int'rest, love, and vengeance, from thy thoughts; fill all thy ardent breast with greece and virtue; then strike secure, and heav'n assist the blow! demetrius. thou kind assistant of my better angel, propitious guide of my bewilder'd soul, calm of my cares, and guardian of my virtue! aspasia. my soul, first kindled by thy bright example, to noble thought and gen'rous emulation, now but reflects those beams that flow'd from thee. demetrius. with native lustre and unborrow'd greatness, thou shin'st, bright maid, superiour to distress; unlike the trifling race of vulgar beauties, those glitt'ring dewdrops of a vernal morn, that spread their colours to the genial beam, and, sparkling, quiver to the breath of may; but, when the tempest, with sonorous wing, sweeps o'er the grove, forsake the lab'ring bough, dispers'd in air, or mingled with the dust. aspasia. forbear this triumph--still new conflicts wait us, foes unforeseen, and dangers unsuspected. oft, when the fierce besiegers' eager host beholds the fainting garrison retire, and rushes joyful to the naked wall, destruction flashes from th' insidious mine, and sweeps th' exulting conqueror away. perhaps, in vain the sultan's anger spar'd me, to find a meaner fate from treach'rous friendship-- abdalla!-- demetrius. can abdalla then dissemble! that fiery chief, renown'd for gen'rous freedom, for zeal unguarded, undissembled hate, for daring truth, and turbulence of honour! aspasia. this open friend, this undesigning hero, with noisy falsehoods, forc'd me from your arms, to shock my virtue with a tale of love. demetrius. did not the cause of greece restrain my sword, aspasia should not fear a second insult. aspasia. his pride and love, by turns, inspir'd his tongue, and intermix'd my praises with his own; his wealth, his rank, his honours, he recounted, till, in the midst of arrogance and fondness, th' approaching sultan forc'd me from the palace; then, while he gaz'd upon his yielding mistress, i stole, unheeded, from their ravish'd eyes, and sought this happy grove in quest of thee. demetrius. soon may the final stroke decide our fate, lest baleful discord crush our infant scheme, and strangled freedom perish in the birth! aspasia. my bosom, harass'd with alternate passions, now hopes, now fears-- demetrius. th' anxieties of love. aspasia. think, how the sov'reign arbiter of kingdoms detests thy false associates' black designs, and frowns on perjury, revenge, and murder. embark'd with treason on the seas of fate, when heaven shall bid the swelling billows rage, and point vindictive lightnings at rebellion, will not the patriot share the traitor's danger? oh! could thy hand, unaided, free thy country, nor mingled guilt pollute the sacred cause! demetrius. permitted oft, though not inspir'd, by heaven, successful treasons punish impious kings. aspasia. nor end my terrours with the sultan's death; far as futurity's untravell'd waste lies open to conjecture's dubious ken, on ev'ry side confusion, rage, and death, perhaps, the phantoms of a woman's fear, beset the treach'rous way with fatal ambush; each turkish bosom burns for thy destruction, ambitious cali dreads the statesman's arts, and hot abdalla hates the happy lover. demetrius. capricious man! to good and ill inconstant, too much to fear or trust is equal weakness. sometimes the wretch, unaw'd by heav'n or hell, with mad devotion idolizes honour. the bassa, reeking with his master's murder, perhaps, may start at violated friendship. aspasia. how soon, alas! will int'rest, fear, or envy, o'erthrow such weak, such accidental virtue, nor built on faith, nor fortified by conscience! demetrius. when desp'rate ills demand a speedy cure, distrust is cowardice, and prudence folly. aspasia. yet, think a moment, ere you court destruction, what hand, when death has snatch'd away demetrius, shall guard aspasia from triumphant lust. demetrius. dismiss these needless fears--a troop of greeks, well known, long try'd, expect us on the shore. borne on the surface of the smiling deep, soon shalt thou scorn, in safety's arms repos'd, abdalla's rage and cali's stratagems. aspasia. still, still, distrust sits heavy on my heart. will e'er a happier hour revisit greece? demetrius. should heav'n, yet unappeas'd, refuse its aid, disperse our hopes, and frustrate our designs, yet shall the conscience of the great attempt diffuse a brightness on our future days; nor will his country's groans reproach demetrius. but how canst thou support the woes of exile? canst thou forget hereditary splendours, to live obscure upon a foreign coast, content with science, innocence, and love? aspasia. nor wealth, nor titles, make aspasia's bliss. o'erwhelm'd and lost amidst the publick ruins, unmov'd, i saw the glitt'ring trifles perish, and thought the petty dross beneath a sigh. cheerful i follow to the rural cell; love be my wealth, and my distinction virtue. demetrius. submissive, and prepar'd for each event, now let us wait the last award of heav'n, secure of happiness from flight or conquest; nor fear the fair and learn'd can want protection. the mighty tuscan courts the banish'd arts to kind italia's hospitable shades; there shall soft leisure wing th' excursive soul, and peace, propitious, smile on fond desire; there shall despotick eloquence resume her ancient empire o'er the yielding heart; there poetry shall tune her sacred voice, and wake from ignorance the western world. scene ii. demetrius, aspasia, cali. cali. at length th' unwilling sun resigns the world to silence and to rest. the hours of darkness, propitious hours to stratagem and death, pursue the last remains of ling'ring light. demetrius. count not these hours, as parts of vulgar time; think them a sacred treasure lent by heaven, which, squander'd by neglect, or fear, or folly, no prayer recalls, no diligence redeems. to-morrow's dawn shall see the turkish king stretch'd in the dust, or tow'ring on his throne; to-morrow's dawn shall see the mighty cali the sport of tyranny, or lord of nations. cali. then waste no longer these important moments in soft endearments, and in gentle murmurs; nor lose, in love, the patriot and the hero. demetrius. 'tis love, combin'd with guilt alone, that melts the soften'd soul to cowardice and sloth; but virtuous passion prompts the great resolve, and fans the slumbering spark of heavenly fire. retire, my fair; that pow'r that smiles on goodness, guide all thy steps, calm ev'ry stormy thought, and still thy bosom with the voice of peace! aspasia. soon may we meet again, secure and free, to feel no more the pangs of separation! [_exit_. demetrius, cali. demetrius. this night alone is ours--our mighty foe, no longer lost in am'rous solitude, will now remount the slighted seat of empire, and show irene to the shouting people: aspasia left her, sighing in his arms, and list'ning to the pleasing tale of pow'r; with soften'd voice she dropp'd the faint refusal, smiling consent she sat, and blushing love. cali. now, tyrant, with satiety of beauty now feast thine eyes; thine eyes, that ne'er hereafter shall dart their am'rous glances at the fair, or glare on cali with malignant beams. scene iii. demetrius, cali, leontius, abdalla. leontius. our bark, unseen, has reach'd th' appointed bay, and, where yon trees wave o'er the foaming surge, reclines against the shore: our grecian troop extends its lines along the sandy beach, elate with hope, and panting for a foe. abdalla. the fav'ring winds assist the great design, sport in our sails, and murmur o'er the deep. cali. 'tis well--a single blow completes our wishes; return with speed, leontius, to your charge; the greeks, disorder'd by their leader's absence, may droop dismay'd, or kindle into madness. leontius. suspected still!--what villain's pois'nous tongue dares join leontius' name with fear or falsehood? have i for this preserv'd my guiltless bosom, pure as the thoughts of infant innocence? have i for this defy'd the chiefs of turkey, intrepid in the flaming front of war? cali. hast thou not search'd my soul's profoundest thoughts? is not the fate of greece and cali thine? leontius. why has thy choice then pointed out leontius, unfit to share this night's illustrious toils? to wait, remote from action, and from honour, an idle list'ner to the distant cries of slaughter'd infidels, and clash of swords? tell me the cause, that while thy name, demetrius, shall soar, triumphant on the wings of glory, despis'd and curs'd, leontius must descend through hissing ages, a proverbial coward, the tale of women, and the scorn of fools? demetrius. can brave leontius be the slave of glory? glory, the casual gift of thoughtless crowds! glory, the bribe of avaricious virtue! be but my country free, be thine the praise; i ask no witness, but attesting conscience, no records, but the records of the sky. leontius. wilt thou then head the troop upon the shore, while i destroy th' oppressor of mankind? demetrius. what canst thou boast superiour to demetrius? ask, to whose sword the greeks will trust their cause, my name shall echo through the shouting field: demand, whose force yon turkish heroes dread, the shudd'ring camp shall murmur out demetrius. cali must greece, still wretched by her children's folly, for ever mourn their avarice or factions? demetrius justly pleads a double title; the lover's int'rest aids the patriot's claim. leontius. my pride shall ne'er protract my country's woes; succeed, my friend, unenvied by leontius. demetrius. i feel new spirit shoot along my nerves; my soul expands to meet approaching freedom. now hover o'er us, with propitious wings, ye sacred shades of patriots and of martyrs! all ye, whose blood tyrannick rage effus'd, or persecution drank, attend our call; i and from the mansions of perpetual peace descend, to sweeten labours, once your own! cali. go then, and with united eloquence confirm your troops; and, when the moon's fair beam plays on the quiv'ring waves, to guide our flight, return, demetrius, and be free for ever. [_exeunt_ dem. _and_ leon. scene iv. cali, abdalla. abdalla. how the new monarch, swell'd with airy rule, looks down, contemptuous, from his fancy'd height, and utters fate, unmindful of abdalla! cali. far be such black ingratitude from cali! when asia's nations own me for their lord, wealth, and command, and grandeur shall be thine! abdalla. is this the recompense reserv'd for me? dar'st thou thus dally with abdalla's passion? henceforward, hope no more my slighted friendship; wake from thy dream of power to death and tortures, and bid thy visionary throne farewell. cali. name, and enjoy thy wish-- abdalla. i need not name it; aspasia's lovers know but one desire, nor hope, nor wish, nor live, but for aspasia. cali. that fatal beauty, plighted to demetrius, heaven makes not mine to give. abdalla. nor to deny. cali. obtain her, and possess; thou know'st thy rival. abdalla. too well i know him, since, on thracia's plains, i felt the force of his tempestuous arm, and saw my scatter'd squadrons fly before him. nor will i trust th' uncertain chance of combat; the rights of princes let the sword decide, the petty claims of empire and of honour: revenge and subtle jealousy shall teach a surer passage to his hated heart. cali. oh! spare the gallant greek, in him we lose the politician's arts, and hero's flame. abdalla. when next we meet, before we storm the palace, the bowl shall circle to confirm our league; then shall these juices taint demetrius' draught, [_showing a phial_. and stream, destructive, through his freezing veins: thus shall he live to strike th' important blow, and perish, ere he taste the joys of conquest. scene v. mahomet, mustapha, cali, abdalla. mahomet. henceforth, for ever happy be this day, sacred to love, to pleasure, and irene! the matchless fair has bless'd me with compliance; let every tongue resound irene's praise, and spread the gen'ral transport through mankind. cali. blest prince, for whom indulgent heav'n ordains, at once, the joys of paradise and empire, now join thy people's and thy cali's prayers; suspend thy passage to the seats of bliss, nor wish for houries in irene's arms. mahomet. forbear--i know the long-try'd faith of cali. cali. oh! could the eyes of kings, like those of heav'n, search to the dark recesses of the soul, oft would they find ingratitude and treason, by smiles, and oaths, and praises, ill disguis'd. how rarely would they meet, in crowded courts, fidelity so firm, so pure, as mine. mustapha. yet, ere we give our loosen'd thoughts to rapture, let prudence obviate an impending danger: tainted by sloth, the parent of sedition, the hungry janizary burns for plunder, and growls, in private, o'er his idle sabre. mahomet. to still their murmurs, ere the twentieth sun shall shed his beams upon the bridal bed, i rouse to war, and conquer for irene. then shall the rhodian mourn his sinking tow'rs, and buda fall, and proud vienna tremble; then shall venetia feel the turkish pow'r, and subject seas roar round their queen in vain. abdalla. then seize fair italy's delightful coast, to fix your standard in imperial rome. mahomet. her sons malicious clemency shall spare, to form new legends, sanctify new crimes; to canonize the slaves of superstition, and fill the world with follies and impostures, till angry heav'n shall mark them out for ruin, and war o'erwhelm them in their dream of vice. o! could her fabled saints and boasted prayers call forth her ancient heroes to the field, how should i joy, midst the fierce shock of nations, to cross the tow'rings of an equal soul, and bid the master-genius rule the world! abdalla, cali, go--proclaim my purpose. [_exeunt_ cali _and_ abdalla. scene vi. mahomet, mustapha. mahomet. still cali lives: and must he live to-morrow? that fawning villain's forc'd congratulations will cloud my triumphs, and pollute the day. mustapha. with cautious vigilance, at my command, two faithful captains, hasan and caraza, pursue him through his labyrinths of treason, and wait your summons to report his conduct. mahomet. call them--but let them not prolong their tale, nor press, too much, upon a lover's patience. [_exit_ mustapha. scene vii. mahomet, _solus_. whome'er the hope, still blasted, still renew'd, of happiness lures on from toil to toil, remember mahomet, and cease thy labour. behold him here, in love, in war, successful; behold him, wretched in his double triumph! his fav'rite faithless, and his mistress base. ambition only gave her to my arms, by reason not convinc'd, nor won by love. ambition was her crime; but meaner folly dooms me to loathe, at once, and dote on falsehood, and idolize th' apostate i contemn. if thou art more than the gay dream of fancy, more than a pleasing sound, without a meaning, o happiness! sure thou art all aspasia's. scene viii. mahomet, mustapha, hasan, caraza. mahomet. caraza, speak--have ye remark'd the bassa? caraza. close, as we might unseen, we watch'd his steps: his hair disorder'd, and his gait unequal, betray'd the wild emotions of his mind. sudden he stops, and inward turns his eyes, absorb'd in thought; then, starting from his trance, constrains a sullen smile, and shoots away. with him abdalla we beheld-- mustapha. abdalla! mahomet. he wears, of late, resentment on his brow, deny'd the government of servia's province. caraza. we mark'd him storming in excess of fury, and heard, within the thicket that conceal'd us, an undistinguish'd sound of threat'ning rage. mustapha. how guilt, once harbour'd in the conscious breast, intimidates the brave, degrades the great; see cali, dread of kings, and pride of armies, by treason levell'd with the dregs of men! ere guilty fear depress'd the hoary chief, an angry murmur, a rebellious frown, had stretch'd the fiery boaster in the grave. mahomet. shall monarchs fear to draw the sword of justice, aw'd by the crowd, and by their slaves restrain'd? seize him this night, and, through the private passage, convey him to the prison's inmost depths, reserv'd to all the pangs of tedious death. [_exeunt_ mahomet _and_ mustapha. scene ix. hasan, caraza. hasan. shall then the greeks, unpunish'd and conceal'd, contrive, perhaps, the ruin of our empire; league with our chiefs, and propagate sedition? caraza. whate'er their scheme, the bassa's death defeats it, and gratitude's strong ties restrain my tongue. hasan. what ties to slaves? what gratitude to foes? caraza. in that black day, when slaughter'd thousands fell around these fatal walls, the tide of war bore me victorious onward, where demetrius tore, unresisted, from the giant hand of stern sebalias, the triumphant crescent, and dash'd the might of asam from the ramparts. there i became, nor blush to make it known, the captive of his sword. the coward greeks, enrag'd by wrongs, exulting with success, doom'd me to die with all the turkish captains; but brave demetrius scorn'd the mean revenge, and gave me life.-- hasan. do thou repay the gift, lest unrewarded mercy lose its charms. profuse of wealth, or bounteous of success, when heav'n bestows the privilege to bless, let no weak doubt the gen'rous hand restrain; for when was pow'r beneficent in vain? [_exeunt._ act v.--scene i. aspasia, _sola_. in these dark moments of suspended fate, while yet the future fortune of my country lies in the womb of providence conceal'd, and anxious angels wait the mighty birth; o! grant thy sacred influence, pow'rful virtue! attentive rise, survey the fair creation, till, conscious of th' encircling deity, beyond the mists of care thy pinion tow'rs. this calm, these joys, dear innocence! are thine: joys ill exchang'd for gold, and pride, and empire. [_enter_ irene _and attendants_. scene ii. aspasia, irene _and attendants_. irene. see how the moon, through all th' unclouded sky, spreads her mild radiance, and descending dews revive the languid flow'rs; thus nature shone new from the maker's hand, and fair array'd in the bright colours of primeval spring; when purity, while fraud was yet unknown, play'd fearless in th' inviolated shades. this elemental joy, this gen'ral calm, is, sure, the smile of unoffended heav'n. yet! why-- maid. behold, within th' embow'ring grove aspasia stands-- irene. with melancholy mien, pensive, and envious of irene's greatness. steal, unperceiv'd, upon her meditations but see, the lofty maid, at our approach, resumes th' imperious air of haughty virtue. are these th' unceasing joys, th' unmingled pleasures, [_to_ aspasia. for which aspasia scorn'd the turkish crown? is this th' unshaken confidence in heav'n? is this the boasted bliss of conscious virtue? when did content sigh out her cares in secret? when did felicity repine in deserts? aspasia. ill suits with guilt the gaieties of triumph; when daring vice insults eternal justice, the ministers of wrath forget compassion, and snatch the flaming bolt with hasty hand. irene. forbear thy threats, proud prophetess of ill, vers'd in the secret counsels of the sky. aspasia. forbear!--but thou art sunk beneath reproach; in vain affected raptures flush the cheek, and songs of pleasure warble from the tongue, when fear and anguish labour in the breast, and all within is darkness and confusion. thus, on deceitful etna's flow'ry side, unfading verdure glads the roving eye; while secret flames, with unextinguish'd rage, insatiate on her wasted entrails prey, and melt her treach'rous beauties into ruin. [_enter_ demetrius. scene iii. aspasia, irene, demetrius. demetrius. fly, fly, my love! destruction rushes on us, the rack expects us, and the sword pursues. aspasia. is greece deliver'd? is the tyrant fall'n? demetrius. greece is no more; the prosp'rous tyrant lives, reserv'd for other lands, the scourge of heav'n. aspasia. say, by what fraud, what force, were you defeated? betray'd by falsehood, or by crowds o'erborne? demetrius. the pressing exigence forbids relation. abdalla-- aspasia. hated name! his jealous rage broke out in perfidy--oh! curs'd aspasia, born to complete the ruin of her country! hide me, oh hide me from upbraiding greece; oh, hide me from myself! demetrius. be fruitless grief the doom of guilt alone, nor dare to seize the breast, where virtue guards the throne of peace. devolve, dear maid, thy sorrows on the wretch, whose fear, or rage, or treachery, betray'd us! irene. _aside_. a private station may discover more; then let me rid them of irene's presence; proceed, and give a loose to love and treason. [_withdraws_ aspasia. yet tell. demetrius. to tell or hear were waste of life. aspasia. the life, which only this design supported, were now well lost in hearing how you fail'd. demetrius. or meanly fraudulent or madly gay, abdalla, while we waited near the palace, with ill tim'd mirth propos'd the bowl of love. just as it reach'd my lips, a sudden cry urg'd me to dash it to the ground, untouch'd, and seize my sword with disencumber'd hand. aspasia. what cry? the stratagem? did then abdalla-- demetrius. at once a thousand passions fir'd his cheek! then all is past, he cry'd--and darted from us; nor, at the call of cali, deign'd to turn. aspasia. why did you stay, deserted and betray'd? what more could force attempt, or art contrive? demetrius. amazement seiz'd us, and the hoary bassa stood, torpid in suspense; but soon abdalla return'd with force that made resistance vain, and bade his new confed'rates seize the traitors. cali, disarm'd, was borne away to death; myself escap'd, or favour'd, or neglected. aspasia. oh greece! renown'd for science and for wealth, behold thy boasted honours snatch'd away. demetrius. though disappointment blast our general scheme, yet much remains to hope. i shall not call the day disastrous, that secures our flight; nor think that effort lost, which rescues thee. [_enter_ abdalla. scene iv. irene, aspasia, demetrius, abdalla. abdalla. at length, the prize is mine--the haughty maid, that bears the fate of empires in her air, henceforth shall live for me; for me alone shall plume her charms, and, with attentive watch, steal from abdalla's eye the sign to smile. demetrius. cease this wild roar of savage exultation; advance, and perish in the frantick boast. aspasia. forbear, demetrius, 'tis aspasia calls thee; thy love, aspasia, calls; restrain thy sword; nor rush on useless wounds, with idle courage. demetrius. what now remains? aspasia. it now remains to fly! demetrius. shall, then, the savage live, to boast his insult; tell, how demetrius shunn'd his single hand, and stole his life and mistress from his sabre? abdalla. infatuate loiterer, has fate, in vain, unclasp'd his iron gripe to set thee free? still dost thou flutter in the jaws of death; snar'd with thy fears, and maz'd in stupefaction? demetrius. forgive, my fair; 'tis life, 'tis nature calls: now, traitor, feel the fear that chills my hand. aspasia. 'tis madness to provoke superfluous danger, and cowardice to dread the boast of folly. abdalla. fly, wretch, while yet my pity grants thee flight; the pow'r of turkey waits upon my call. leave but this maid, resign a hopeless claim, and drag away thy life, in scorn and safety, thy life, too mean a prey to lure abdalla. demetrius. once more i dare thy sword; behold the prize, behold, i quit her to the chance of battle. [_quitting_ aspasia. abdalla. well may'st thou call thy master to the combat, and try the hazard, that hast nought to stake; alike my death or thine is gain to thee; but soon thou shalt repent: another moment shall throw th' attending janizaries round thee. [_exit, hastily_, abdalla. scene v. aspasia, irene, demetrius. irene. abdalla fails; now, fortune, all is mine. [_aside_. haste, murza, to the palace, let the sultan [_to one of her attendant_ despatch his guards to stop the flying traitors, while i protract their stay. be swift and faithful. [_exit_ murza. this lucky stratagem shall charm the sultan, [_aside_. secure his confidence, and fix his love. demetrius. behold a boaster's worth! now snatch, my fair, the happy moment; hasten to the shore, ere he return with thousands at his side. aspasia. in vain i listen to th' inviting call of freedom and of love; my trembling joints, relax'd with fear, refuse to bear me forward. depart, demetrius, lest my fate involve thee; forsake a wretch abandon'd to despair, to share the miseries herself has caus'd. demetrius. let us not struggle with th' eternal will, nor languish o'er irreparable ruins; come, haste and live--thy innocence and truth shall bless our wand'rings, and propitiate heav'n. irene. press not her flight, while yet her feeble nerves refuse their office, and uncertain life still labours with imaginary woe; here let me tend her with officious care, watch each unquiet flutter of the breast, and joy to feel the vital warmth return, to see the cloud forsake her kindling cheek, and hail the rosy dawn of rising health. aspasia. oh! rather, scornful of flagitious greatness, resolve to share our dangers and our toils, companion of our flight, illustrious exile, leave slav'ry, guilt, and infamy behind. irene. my soul attends thy voice, and banish'd virtue strives to regain her empire of the mind: assist her efforts with thy strong persuasion; sure, 'tis the happy hour ordain'd above, when vanquish'd vice shall tyrannise no more. demetrius. remember, peace and anguish are before thee, and honour and reproach, and heav'n and hell. aspasia. content with freedom, and precarious greatness. demetrius. now make thy choice, while yet the pow'r of choice kind heav'n affords thee, and inviting mercy holds out her hand to lead thee back to truth. irene. stay--in this dubious twilight of conviction, the gleams of reason, and the clouds of passion, irradiate and obscure my breast, by turns: stay but a moment, and prevailing truth will spread resistless light upon my soul. demetrius. but, since none knows the danger of a moment, and heav'n forbids to lavish life away, let kind compulsion terminate the contest. [_seizing her hand_. ye christian captives, follow me to freedom: a galley waits us, and the winds invite. irene. whence is this violence? demetrius. your calmer thought will teach a gentler term. irene. forbear this rudeness, and learn the rev'rence due to turkey's queen: fly, slaves, and call the sultan to my rescue. demetrius. farewell, unhappy maid; may every joy be thine, that wealth can give, or guilt receive! aspasia. nd when, contemptuous of imperial pow'r, disease shall chase the phantoms of ambition, may penitence attend thy mournful bed, and wing thy latest pray'r to pitying heav'n! [_exeunt_ dem. asp. _with part of the attendants_. scene vi. [irene _walks at a distance from her attendants._] _after a pause_. against the head, which innocence secures, insidious malice aims her darts in vain, turn'd backwards by the pow'rful breath of heav'n. perhaps, e'en now the lovers, unpursu'd, bound o'er the sparkling waves. go, happy bark, thy sacred freight shall still the raging main. to guide thy passage shall th' aerial spirits fill all the starry lamps with double blaze; th' applauding sky shall pour forth all its beams, to grace the triumph of victorious virtue; while i, not yet familiar to my crimes, recoil from thought, and shudder at myself. how am i chang'd! how lately did irene fly from the busy pleasures of her sex, well pleas'd to search the treasures of remembrance, and live her guiltless moments o'er anew! come, let us seek new pleasures in the palace, [_to her attendants, going off_. till soft fatigue invite us to repose. scene vii. [_enter_ mustapha, _meeting and stopping her_.] mustapha. fair falsehood, stay. irene. what dream of sudden power has taught my slave the language of command? henceforth, be wise, nor hope a second pardon. mustapha. who calls for pardon from a wretch condemn'd? irene. thy look, thy speech, thy action, all is wildness-- who charges guilt, on me? mustapha. who charges guilt! ask of thy heart; attend the voice of conscience-- who charges guilt! lay by this proud resentment that fires thy cheek, and elevates thy mien, nor thus usurp the dignity of virtue. review this day. irene. whate'er thy accusation, the sultan is my judge. mustapha. that hope is past; hard was the strife of justice and of love; but now 'tis o'er, and justice has prevail'd. know'st thou not cali? know'st thou not demetrius? irene. bold slave, i know them both--i know them traitors. mustapha. perfidious!--yes--too well thou know'st them traitors. irene. their treason throws no stain upon irene. this day has prov'd my fondness for the sultan; he knew irene's truth. mustapha. the sultan knows it; he knows, how near apostasy to treason-- but 'tis not mine to judge--i scorn and leave thee. i go, lest vengeance urge my hand to blood, to blood too mean to stain a soldier's sabre. [_exit_ mustapha. irene, _to her attendants_. go, blust'ring slave--he has not heard of murza. that dext'rous message frees me from suspicion. scene viii. _enter_ hasan, caraza, _with mutes, who throw the black robe upon_ irene, _and sign to her attendants to withdraw_. hasan. forgive, fair excellence, th' unwilling tongue, the tongue, that, forc'd by strong necessity, bids beauty, such as thine, prepare to die. irene. what wild mistake is this! take hence, with speed, your robe of mourning, and your dogs of death. quick from my sight, you inauspicious monsters; nor dare, henceforth, to shock irene's walks. hasan. alas! they come commanded by the sultan, th' unpitying ministers of turkish justice, nor dare to spare the life his frown condemns. irene. are these the rapid thunderbolts of war, that pour with sudden violence on kingdoms, and spread their flames, resistless, o'er the world? what sleepy charms benumb these active heroes, depress their spirits, and retard their speed? beyond the fear of ling'ring punishment, aspasia now, within her lover's arms, securely sleeps, and, in delightful dreams, smiles at the threat'nings of defeated rage. caraza. we come, bright virgin, though relenting nature shrinks at the hated task, for thy destruction. when summon'd by the sultan's clam'rous fury, we ask'd, with tim'rous tongue, th' offender's name, he struck his tortur'd breast, and roar'd, irene! we started at the sound, again inquir'd; again his thund'ring voice return'd, irene! irene. whence is this rage; what barb'rous tongue has wrong'd me? what fraud misleads him? or what crimes incense? hasan. expiring cali nam'd irene's chamber, the place appointed for his master's death. irene. irene's chamber! from my faithful bosom far be the thought--but hear my protestation. caraza. 'tis ours, alas! to punish, not to judge, not call'd to try the cause, we heard the sentence, ordain'd the mournful messengers of death. irene. some ill designing statesman's base intrigue! some cruel stratagem of jealous beauty! perhaps, yourselves the villains that defame me:-- now haste to murder, ere returning thought recall th' extorted doom.--it must be so: confess your crime, or lead me to the sultan; there dauntless truth shall blast the vile accuser; then shall you feel, what language cannot utter, each piercing torture, ev'ry change of pain, that vengeance can invent, or pow'r inflict. [_enter_ abdalla: _he stops short and listens_. scene ix. irene, hasan, caraza, abdalla. abdalla, _aside_. all is not lost, abdalla; see the queen, see the last witness of thy guilt and fear, enrob'd in death--despatch her, and be great. caraza. unhappy fair! compassion calls upon me to check this torrent of imperious rage: while unavailing anger crowds thy tongue with idle threats and fruitless exclamation, the fraudful moments ply their silent wings, and steal thy life away. death's horrid angel already shakes his bloody sabre o'er thee. the raging sultan burns, till our return, curses the dull delays of ling'ring mercy, and thinks his fatal mandates ill obey'd. abdalla. is then your sov'reign's life so cheaply rated, that thus you parley with detected treason? should she prevail to gain the sultan's presence, soon might her tears engage a lover's credit; perhaps, her malice might transfer the charge; perhaps, her pois'nous tongue might blast abdalla. irene. o! let me but be heard, nor fear from me or flights of pow'r, or projects of ambition. my hopes, my wishes, terminate in life, a little life, for grief, and for repentance. abdalla. i mark'd her wily messenger afar, and saw him sculking in the closest walks: i guess'd her dark designs, and warn'd the sultan, and bring her former sentence new-confirmed. hasan. then call it not our cruelty, nor crime; deem us not deaf to woe, nor blind to beauty, that, thus constrain'd, we speed the stroke of death. [_beckons the mutes_. irene. o, name not death! distraction and amazement, horrour and agony are in that sound! let me but live, heap woes on woes upon me; hide me with murd'rers in the dungeon's gloom; send me to wander on some pathless shore, let shame and hooting infamy pursue me, let slav'ry harass, and let hunger gripe. caraza. could we reverse the sentence of the sultan, our bleeding bosoms plead irene's cause. but cries and tears are vain; prepare, with patience, to meet that fate, we can delay no longer. [_the mutes, at the sign, lay hold of her_. abdalla. despatch, ye ling'ring slaves; or nimbler hands, quick at my call, shall execute your charge; despatch, and learn a fitter time for pity. irene. grant me one hour. o! grant me but a moment, and bounteous heav'n repay the mighty mercy, with peaceful death, and happiness eternal. caraza. the pray'r i cannot grant--i dare not hear. short be thy pains. [_signs again to the mutes_. irene. unutterable anguish! guilt and despair, pale spectres! grin around me, and stun me with the yellings of damnation! o, hear my pray'rs! accept, all-pitying heav'n, these tears, these pangs, these last remains of life; nor let the crimes of this detested day be charg'd upon my soul. o, mercy! mercy! [_mutes force her out_. scene x. abdalla, hasan, caraza. abdalla, _aside_. safe in her death, and in demetrius' flight, abdalla, bid thy troubled breast be calm. now shalt thou shine, the darling of the sultan, the plot all cali's, the detection thine. hasan _to_ caraza. does not thy bosom (for i know thee tender, a stranger to th' oppressor's savage joy,) melt at irene's fate, and share her woes? caraza. her piercing cries yet fill the loaded air, dwell on my ear, and sadden all my soul. but let us try to clear our clouded brows, and tell the horrid tale with cheerful face; the stormy sultan rages at our stay. abdalla. frame your report with circumspective art: inflame her crimes, exalt your own obedience; but let no thoughtless hint involve abdalla. caraza. what need of caution to report the fate of her, the sultan's voice condemn'd to die? or why should he, whose violence of duty has serv'd his prince so well, demand our silence? abdalla. perhaps, my zeal, too fierce, betray'd my prudence; perhaps, my warmth exceeded my commission; perhaps--i will not stoop to plead my cause, or argue with the slave that sav'd demetrius. caraza. from his escape learn thou the pow'r of virtue; nor hope his fortune, while thou want'st his worth. hasan. the sultan comes, still gloomy, still enraged. scene xi. hasan, caraza, mahomet, mustapha, abdalla. mahomet. where's this fair traitress? where's this smiling mischief, whom neither vows could fix, nor favours bind? hasan. thine orders, mighty sultan, are perform'd, and all irene now is breathless clay. mahomet. your hasty zeal defrauds the claim of justice, and disappointed vengeance burns in vain. i came to heighten tortures by reproach, and add new terrours to the face of death. was this the maid, whose love i bought with empire? true, she was fair; the smile of innocence play'd on her cheek--so shone the first apostate-- irene's chamber! did not roaring cali, just as the rack forc'd out his struggling soul, name for the scene of death, irene's chamber? mustapha. his breath prolong'd, but to detect her treason, then, in short sighs, forsook his broken frame. mahomet. decreed to perish in irene's chamber! there had she lull'd me with endearing falsehoods, clasp'd in her arms, or slumb'ring on her breast, and bar'd my bosom to the ruffian's dagger. scene xii. hasan, caraza, mahomet, mustapha, murza, abdalla. murza. forgive, great sultan, that, by fate prevented, i bring a tardy message from irene. mahomet. some artful wile of counterfeited love! some soft decoy to lure me to destruction! and thou, the curs'd accomplice of her treason, declare thy message, and expect thy doom. murza. the queen requested, that a chosen troop might intercept the traitor greek, demetrius, then ling'ring with his captive mistress here. mustapha. the greek, demetrius! whom th' expiring bassa declar'd the chief associate of his guilt! mahomet. a chosen troop--to intercept--demetrius-- the queen requested--wretch, repeat the message; and, if one varied accent prove thy falsehood, or but one moment's pause betray confusion, those trembling limbs--speak out, thou shiv'ring traitor. murza. the queen requested-- mahomet. who? the dead irene? was she then guiltless! has my thoughtless rage destroy'd the fairest workmanship of heav'n! doom'd her to death, unpity'd and unheard, amidst her kind solicitudes for me! ye slaves of cruelty, ye tools of rage, [_to_ hasan _and_ caraza. ye blind, officious ministers of folly, could not her charms repress your zeal for murder? could not her pray'rs, her innocence, her tears, suspend the dreadful sentence for an hour? one hour had freed me from the fatal errour! one hour had say'd me from despair and madness. caraza. your fierce impatience forc'd us from your presence, urg'd us to speed, and bade us banish pity, nor trust our passions with her fatal charms. mahomet. what hadst thou lost, by slighting those commands? thy life, perhaps--were but irene spar'd, well, if a thousand lives like thine had perish'd; such beauty, sweetness, love, were cheaply bought with half the grov'ling slaves that load the globe. mustapha. great is thy woe! but think, illustrious sultan, such ills are sent for souls, like thine, to conquer. shake off this weight of unavailing grief, rush to the war, display thy dreadful banners, and lead thy troops, victorious, round the world. mahomet. robb'd of the maid, with whom i wish'd to triumph, no more i burn for fame, or for dominion; success and conquest now are empty sounds, remorse and anguish seize on all my breast; those groves, whose shades embower'd the dear irene, heard her last cries, and fann'd her dying beauties, shall hide me from the tasteless world for ever. [mahomet _goes back, and returns_. yet, ere i quit the sceptre of dominion, let one just act conclude the hateful day-- hew down, ye guards, those vassals of destruction, [_pointing to_ hasan _and_ caraza. those hounds of blood, that catch the hint to kill, bear off, with eager haste, th' unfinished sentence, and speed the stroke, lest mercy should o'ertake them. caraza. then hear, great mahomet, the voice of truth. mahomet. hear! shall i hear thee! didst thou hear irene? caraza. hear but a moment. mahomet. hadst thou heard a moment, thou might'st have liv'd, for thou hadst spar'd irene. caraza. i heard her, pitied her, and wish'd to save her. mahomet. and wish'd--be still thy fate to wish in vain. caraza. i heard, and soften'd, till abdalla brought her final doom, and hurried her destruction. mahomet. abdalla brought her doom! abdalla brought it! the wretch, whose guilt, declar'd by tortur'd cali, my rage and grief had hid from my remembrance: abdalla brought her doom! hasan. abdalla brought it, while yet she begg'd to plead her cause before thee. mahomet. o, seize me, madness--did she call on me! i feel, i see the ruffian's barb'rous rage. he seiz'd her melting in the fond appeal, and stopp'd the heav'nly voice that call'd on me. my spirits fail; awhile support me, vengeance-- be just, ye slaves; and, to be just, be cruel; contrive new racks, imbitter ev'ry pang, inflict whatever treason can deserve, which murder'd innocence that call'd on me. [_exit_ mahomet; abdalla _is dragged off_. scene xiii. hasan, caraza, mustapha, murza. mustapha _to_ murza. what plagues, what tortures, are in store for thee, thou sluggish idler, dilatory slave! behold the model of consummate beauty, torn from the mourning earth by thy neglect. murza. such was the will of heav'n--a band of greeks, that mark'd my course, suspicious of my purpose, rush'd out and seiz'd me, thoughtless and unarm'd, breathless, amaz'd, and on the guarded beach detain'd me, till demetrius set me free. mustapha. so sure the fall of greatness, rais'd on crimes! so fix'd the justice of all conscious heav'n! when haughty guilt exults with impious joy, mistake shall blast, or accident destroy; weak man, with erring rage, may throw the dart, but heav'n shall guide it to the guilty heart. epilogue. by sir william yonge. marry a turk! a haughty, tyrant king! who thinks us women born to dress and sing to please his fancy! see no other man! let him persuade me to it--if he can; besides, he has fifty wives; and who can bear to have the fiftieth part, her paltry share? 'tis true, the fellow's handsome, straight, and tall, but how the devil should he please us all! my swain is little--true--but, be it known, my pride's to have that little all my own. men will be ever to their errours blind, where woman's not allow'd to speak her mind. i swear this eastern pageantry is nonsense, and for one man--one wife's enough in conscience. in vain proud man usurps what's woman's due; for us, alone, they honour's paths pursue: inspir'd by us, they glory's heights ascend; woman the source, the object, and the end. though wealth, and pow'r, and glory, they receive, these are all trifles to what we can give. for us the statesman labours, hero fights, bears toilsome days, and wakes long tedious nights; and, when blest peace has silenc'd war's alarms; receives his full reward in beauty's arms. miscellaneous poems. prologue; spoken by mr. garrick, april , , before the masque of comus. acted at drury lane theatre, for the benefit of milton's granddaughter[a]. ye patriot crowds, who burn for england's fame, ye nymphs, whose bosoms beat at milton's name; whose gen'rous zeal, unbought by flatt'ring rhymes, shames the mean pensions of augustan times; immortal patrons of succeeding days, attend this prelude of perpetual praise; let wit, condemn'd the feeble war to wage with close malevolence, or publick rage; let study, worn with virtue's fruitless lore, behold this theatre, and grieve no more. this night, distinguish'd by your smiles, shall tell, that never britain can in vain excel; the slighted arts futurity shall trust, and rising ages hasten to be just. at length, our mighty bard's victorious lays fill the loud voice of universal praise; and baffled spite, with hopeless anguish dumb, yields to renown the centuries to come; with ardent haste each candidate of fame, ambitious, catches at his tow'ring name; he sees, and pitying sees, vain wealth bestow those pageant honours, which he scorn'd below; while crowds aloft the laureate bust behold, or trace his form on circulating gold. unknown, unheeded, long his offspring lay, and want hung threat'ning o'er her slow decay, what, though she shine with no miltonian fire, no fav'ring muse her morning dreams inspire; yet softer claims the melting heart engage, her youth laborious, and her blameless age; her's the mild merits of domestick life, the patient sufferer, and the faithful wife. thus, grac'd with humble virtue's native charms, her grandsire leaves her in britannia's arms; secure with peace, with competence, to dwell, while tutelary nations guard her cell. yours is the charge, ye fair, ye wise, ye brave! 'tis yours to crown desert--beyond the grave. [a] see life of milton. prologue to the comedy of the good-natur'd man, , prest by the load of life, the weary mind surveys the gen'ral toil of human kind; with cool submission joins the lab'ring train, and social sorrow loses half its pain: our anxious bard, without complaint, may share this bustling season's epidemick care; like caesar's pilot, dignify'd by fate, tost in one common storm with all the great; distrest alike the statesman and the wit, when one a borough courts, and one the pit. the busy candidates for pow'r and fame have hopes, and fears, and wishes, just the same; disabled both to combat or to fly, must hear all taunts, and hear without reply. uncheck'd on both loud rabbles vent their rage, as mongrels bay the lion in a cage. th' offended burgess hoards his angry tale, for that blest year, when all that vote may rail; their schemes of spite the poet's foes dismiss, till that glad night, when all that hate may hiss. "this day the powder'd curls and golden coat," says swelling crispin, "begg'd a cobbler's vote." "this night our wit," the pert apprentice cries, "lies at my feet; i hiss him, and he dies." the great, 'tis true, can charm th' electing tribe; the bard may supplicate, but cannot bribe. yet, judg'd by those whose voices ne'er were sold, he feels no want of ill persuading gold; but, confident of praise, if praise be due, trusts, without fear, to merit and to you. prologue to the comedy of a work to the wise[a] spoken by mr. hull. this night presents a play, which publick rage, or right, or wrong, once hooted from the stage[b]. from zeal or malice, now, no more we dread, for english vengeance wars not with the dead. a gen'rous foe regards, with pitying eye, the man whom fate has laid, where all must lie. to wit, reviving from its author's dust, be kind, ye judges, or at least be just. for no renew'd hostilities invade th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade. let one great payment ev'ry claim appease; and him, who cannot hurt, allow to please; to please by scenes, unconscious of offence, by harmless merriment, or useful sense. where aught of bright, or fair, the piece displays, approve it only--'tis too late to praise. if want of skill, or want of care appear, forbear to hiss--the poet cannot hear. by all, like him, must praise and blame be found, at best a fleeting gleam, or empty sound. yet, then, shall calm reflection bless the night, when lib'ral pity dignify'd delight; when pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame, and mirth was bounty with an humbler name. [a] performed at covent garden theatre in , for the benefit of mrs. kelly, widow of hugh kelly, esq. (the author of the play,) and her children. [b] upon the first representation of this play, , a party assembled to damn it, and succeeded. spring; an ode. stern winter now, by spring repress'd, forbears the long-continued strife; and nature, on her naked breast, delights to catch the gales of life. now o'er the rural kingdom roves soft pleasure with the laughing train, love warbles in the vocal groves, and vegetation plants the plain. unhappy! whom to beds of pain, arthritick[a] tyranny consigns; whom smiling nature courts in vain, though rapture sings, and beauty shines. yet though my limbs disease invades, her wings imagination tries, and bears me to the peaceful shades, where--s humble turrets rise; here stop, my soul, thy rapid flight, nor from the pleasing groves depart, where first great nature charm'd my sight, where wisdom first inform'd my heart. here let me through the vales pursue a guide--a father--and a friend, once more great nature's works renew, once more on wisdom's voice attend. from false caresses, causeless strife, wild hope, vain fear, alike remov'd, here let me learn the use of life, when best enjoy'd--when most improv'd. teach me, thou venerable bower, cool meditation's quiet seat, the gen'rous scorn of venal power, the silent grandeur of retreat. when pride, by guilt, to greatness climbs, or raging factions rush to war, here let me learn to shun the crimes, i can't prevent, and will not share. but, lest i fall by subtler foes, bright wisdom, teach me curio's art, the swelling passions to compose, and quell the rebels of the heart. [a] the author being ill of the gout. midsummer; an ode. o phoebus! down the western sky, far hence diffuse thy burning ray, thy light to distant worlds supply, and wake them to the cares of day. come, gentle eve, the friend of care, come, cynthia, lovely queen of night! refresh me with a cooling air, and cheer me with a lambent light: lay me, where o'er the verdant ground her living carpet nature spreads; where the green bow'r, with roses crown'd, in show'rs its fragrant foliage sheds; improve the peaceful hour with wine; let musick die along the grove; around the bowl let myrtles twine, and ev'ry strain be tun'd to love. come, stella, queen of all my heart! come, born to fill its vast desires! thy looks perpetual joys impart, thy voice perpetual love inspires. whilst, all my wish and thine complete, by turns we languish and we burn, let sighing gales our sighs repeat, our murmurs--murmuring brooks return, let me, when nature calls to rest, and blushing skies the morn foretell, sink on the down of stella's breast, and bid the waking world farewell. autumn; an ode. alas! with swift and silent pace, impatient time rolls on the year; the seasons change, and nature's face now sweetly smiles, now frowns severe, 'twas spring, 'twas summer, all was gay, now autumn bends a cloudy brow; the flow'rs of spring are swept away, and summer-fruits desert the bough. the verdant leaves, that play'd on high, and wanton'd on the western breeze, now, trod in dust, neglected lie, as boreas strips the bending trees. the fields, that way'd with golden grain, as russet heaths, are wild and bare; not moist with dew, but drench'd with rain, nor health, nor pleasure, wanders there. no more, while through the midnight shade, beneath the moon's pale orb i stray, soft pleasing woes my heart invade, as progne pours the melting lay. from this capricious clime she soars, oh! would some god but wings supply! to where each morn the spring restores, companion of her flight i'd fly. vain wish! me fate compels to bear the downward season's iron reign; compels to breathe polluted air, and shiver on a blasted plain. what bliss to life can autumn yield, if glooms, and show'rs, and storms prevail, and ceres flies the naked field, and flowers, and fruits, and phoebus fail? oh! what remains, what lingers yet, to cheer me in the dark'ning hour! the grape remains! the friend of wit, in love, and mirth, of mighty pow'r. haste--press the clusters, fill the bowl; apollo! shoot thy parting ray: this gives the sunshine of the soul, this god of health, and verse, and day. still--still the jocund strain shall flow, the pulse with vig'rous rapture beat; my stella with new charms shall glow, and ev'ry bliss in wine shall meet. winter; an ode. no more tire morn, with tepid rays, unfolds the flow'r of various hue; noon spreads no more the genial blaze, nor gentle eve distils the dew. the ling'ring hours prolong the night, usurping darkness shares the day; her mists restrain the force of light, and phoebus holds a doubtful sway. by gloomy twilight, half reveal'd, with sighs we view the hoary hill, the leafless wood, the naked field, the snow-topp'd cot, the frozen rill. no musick warbles through the grove, no vivid colours paint the plain; no more, with devious steps, i rove through verdant paths, now sought in vain. aloud the driving tempest roars, congeal'd, impetuous show'rs descend; haste, close the window, bar the doors, fate leaves me stella, and a friend. in nature's aid, let art supply with light and heat my little sphere; rouse, rouse the fire, and pile it high, light up a constellation here. let musick sound the voice of joy, or mirth repeat the jocund tale; let love his wanton wiles employ, and o'er the season wine prevail. yet time life's dreary winter brings, when mirth's gay tale shall please no more nor musick charm--though stella sings; nor love, nor wine, the spring restore. catch, then, oh! catch the transient hour, improve each moment as it flies; life's a short summer--man a flow'r: he dies--alas! how soon he dies! the winter's walk. behold, my fair, where'er we rove, what dreary prospects round us rise; the naked hill, the leafless grove, the hoary ground, the frowning skies! nor only through the wasted plain, stern winter! is thy force confess'd; still wider spreads thy horrid reign, i feel thy pow'r usurp my breast. enliv'ning hope, and fond desire, resign the heart to spleen and care; scarce frighted love maintains her fire, and rapture saddens to despair. in groundless hope, and causeless fear, unhappy man! behold thy doom; still changing with the changeful year, the slave of sunshine and of gloom. tir'd with vain joys, and false alarms, with mental and corporeal strife, snatch me, my stella, to thy arms, and screen me from the ills of life[a]. [a] and _hide_ me from the _sight_ of life. st edition. to miss **** on her giving the author a gold and silk network purse of her own weaving[a]. though gold and silk their charms unite to make thy curious web delight, in vain the varied work would shine, if wrought by any hand but thine; thy hand, that knows the subtler art to weave those nets that catch the heart. spread out by me, the roving coin thy nets may catch, but not confine; nor can i hope thy silken chain the glitt'ring vagrants shall restrain. why, stella, was it then decreed, the heart, once caught, should ne'er be freed? [a] printed among mrs. williams's miscellanies. to miss **** on her playing upon the harpsichord, in a room hung with flower-pieces of her own painting[a]. when stella strikes the tuneful string, in scenes of imitated spring, where beauty lavishes her pow'rs on beds of never-fading flow'rs, and pleasure propagates around each charm of modulated sound; ah! think not, in the dang'rous hour, the nymph fictitious as the flow'r; but shun, rash youth, the gay alcove, nor tempt the snares of wily love. when charms thus press on ev'ry sense, what thought of flight, or of defence? deceitful hope, and vain desire, for ever flutter o'er her lyre, delighting, as the youth draws nigh, to point the glances of her eye, and forming, with unerring art, new chains to hold the captive heart. but on those regions of delight might truth intrude with daring flight, could stella, sprightly, fair, and young, one moment hear the moral song, instruction, with her flowers, might spring, and wisdom warble from her string. mark, when from thousand mingled dies thou seest one pleasing form arise, how active light, and thoughtful shade in greater scenes each other aid; mark, when the different notes agree in friendly contrariety, how passion's well-accorded strife gives all the harmony of life; thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, consistent still, though not the same; thy musick teach the nobler art, to tune the regulated heart. [a] printed among mrs. williams's miscellanies. evening; an ode. to stella. ev'ning now from purple wings sheds the grateful gifts she brings; brilliant drops bedeck the mead, cooling breezes shake the reed; shake the reed, and curl the stream, silver'd o'er with cynthia's beam; near the checquer'd, lonely grove, hears, and keeps thy secrets, love. stella, thither let us stray, lightly o'er the dewy way. phoebus drives his burning car hence, my lovely stella, far; in his stead, the queen of night round us pours a lambent light; light, that seems but just to show breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow. let us now, in whisper'd joy, ev'ning's silent hours employ; silence best, and conscious shades, please the hearts that love invades; other pleasures give them pain, lovers all but love disdain. to the same. whether stella's eyes are found fix'd on earth, or glancing round, if her face with pleasure glow, if she sigh at others' woe, if her easy air express conscious worth, or soft distress, stella's eyes, and air, and face, charm with undiminish'd grace. if on her we see display'd pendent gems, and rich brocade; if her chints with less expense flows in easy negligence; still she lights the conscious flame, still her charms appear the same; if she strikes the vocal strings, if she's silent, speaks, or sings, if she sit, or if she move, still we love, and still approve. vain the casual, transient glance, which alone can please by chance; beauty, which depends on art, changing with the changing heart, which demands the toilet's aid, pendent gems and rich brocade. i those charms alone can prize, which from constant nature rise, which nor circumstance, nor dress, e'er can make, or more, or less. to a friend. no more thus brooding o'er yon heap, with av'rice, painful vigils keep; still unenjoy'd the present store, still endless sighs are breath'd for more. oh! quit the shadow, catch the prize, which not all india's treasure buys! to purchase heav'n has gold the power? can gold remove the mortal hour? in life, can love be bought with gold? are friendship's pleasures to be sold? no--all that's worth a wish--a thought, fair virtue gives unbrib'd, unbought. cease then on trash thy hopes to bind, let nobler views engage thy mind. with science tread the wondrous way, or learn the muses' moral lay; in social hours indulge thy soul, where mirth and temp'rance mix the bowl; to virtuous love resign thy breast, and be, by blessing beauty--blest. thus taste the feast, by nature spread, ere youth, and all its joys are fled; come, taste with me the balm of life, secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife. i boast whate'er for man was meant, in health, and stella, and content; and scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine! mere things of clay that dig the mine. stella in mourning. when lately stella's form display'd the beauties of the gay brocade, the nymphs, who found their pow'r decline, proclaim'd her not so fair as fine. "fate! snatch away the bright disguise, and let the goddess trust her eyes." thus blindly pray'd the fretful fair, and fate malicious heard the pray'r; but, brighten'd by the sable dress, as virtue rises in distress, since stella still extends her reign, ah! how shall envy sooth her pain? th' adoring youth and envious fair, henceforth, shall form one common prayer: and love and hate, alike, implore the skies--"that stella mourn no more." to stella. not the soft sighs of vernal gales, the fragrance of the flow'ry vales, the murmurs of the crystal rill, the vocal grove, the verdant hill; not all their charms, though all unite, can touch my bosom with delight. not all the gems on india's shore, not all peru's unbounded store, not all the power, nor all the fame, that heroes, kings, or poets claim; nor knowledge, which the learn'd approve; to form one wish my soul can move. yet nature's charms allure my eyes, and knowledge, wealth, and fame i prize; fame, wealth, and knowledge i obtain, nor seek i nature's charms in vain; in lovely stella all combine; and, lovely stella! thou art mine. verses, written at the request of a gentleman, to whom a lady had given a sprig of myrtle [a]. what hopes, what terrours, does thy gift create! ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate! the myrtle (ensign of supreme command, consign'd by venus to melissa's hand) not less capricious than a reigning fair, oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray'r. in myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, in myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain. the myrtle crowns the happy lovers' heads, th' unhappy lovers' graves the myrtle spreads. oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart, and ease the throbbings of an anxious heart. soon must this bough, as you shall fix its doom, adorn philander's head, or grace his tomb. [a] these verses were first printed in the gentleman's magazine for , p. , but were written many years earlier. elegant as they are, dr. johnson assured me, they were composed in the short space of five minutes.--n. to lady firebrace[a]. at bury assizes. at length, must suffolk beauties shine in vain, so long renown'd in b--n's deathless strain? thy charms, at least, fair firebrace, might inspire some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; for, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a muse and grace. [a] this lady was bridget, third daughter of philip bacon, esq. of ipswich, and relict of philip evers, esq. of that town. she became the second wife of sir cordell firebrace, the last baronet of that name, to whom she brought a fortune of , pounds, july , . being again left a widow, in , she was a third time married, april , , to william campbell, esq. uncle to the late duke of argyle, and died july , . to lyce, an elderly lady. ye nymphs, whom starry rays invest, by flatt'ring poets given; who shine, by lavish lovers drest, in all the pomp of heaven; engross not all the beams on high, which gild a lover's lays; but, as your sister of the sky, let lyce share the praise. her silver locks display the moon, her brows a cloudy show, strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen, and show'rs from either flow. her teeth the night with darkness dies, she's starr'd with pimples o'er; her tongue, like nimble lightning, plies, and can with thunder roar. but some zelinda, while i sing, denies my lyce shines; and all the pens of cupid's wing attack my gentle lines. yet, spite of fair zelinda's eye, and all her bards express, my lyce makes as good a sky, and i but flatter less. on the death of mr. robert levet[a], a practiser in physick. condemn'd to hope's delusive mine, as on we toil, from day to day, by sudden blasts, or slow decline, our social comforts drop away. well try'd, through many a varying year, see levet to the grave descend, officious, innocent, sincere, of ev'ry friendless name the friend. yet still he fills affection's eye, obscurely wise, and coarsely kind; nor, letter'd arrogance, deny thy praise to merit unrefined. when fainting nature call'd for aid, and hov'ring death prepar'd the blow, his vig'rous remedy display'd the pow'r of art, without the show. in mis'ry's darkest cavern known, his useful care was ever nigh, where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, and lonely want retir'd to die. no summons, mock'd by chill delay, no petty gain, disdain'd by pride; the modest wants of ev'ry day the toil of ev'ry day supply'd. his virtues walk'd their narrow round, nor made a pause, nor left a void; and sure the eternal master found the single talent well-employ'd. the busy day--the peaceful night, unfelt, uncounted, glided by; his frame was firm--his pow'rs were bright, though now his eightieth year was nigh. then, with no fiery throbbing pain, no cold gradations of decay, death broke, at once, the vital chain, and freed his soul the nearest way. [a] these stanzas, to adopt the words of dr. drake, "are warm from the heart; and this is the only poem, from the pen of johnson, that has been bathed with tears." levet was johnson's constant and attentive companion, for near forty years; he was a practitioner in physic, among the lower class of people, in london. humanity, rather than desire of gain, seems to have actuated this single hearted and amiable being; and never were the virtues of charity recorded in more touching strains. "i am acquainted," says dr. drake, "with nothing superior to them in the productions of the moral muse." see drake's literary life of johnson; and boswell, i. ii. iii. iv.--ed. epitaph on claude phillips, an itinerant musician[a]. phillips! whose touch harmonious could remove the pangs of guilty pow'r, and hapless love, rest here, distress'd by poverty no more, find here that calm thou gay'st so oft before; sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine, till angels wake thee, with a note like thine. [a] these lines are among mrs. williams's miscellanies: they are, nevertheless, recognised as johnson's, in a memorandum of his handwriting, and were probably written at her request. this phillips was a fiddler, who travelled up and down wales, and was much celebrated for his skill. the above epitaph, according to mr. boswell, won the applause of lord kames, prejudiced against johnson as he was. it was published in mrs. williams's miscellanies, and was, at first, ascribed to garrick, from its appearing with the signature g.--garrick, however, related, that they were composed, almost impromptu, by johnson, on hearing some lines on the subject, by dr. wilkes, which he disapproved. see boswell, i. , where is, likewise, preserved an epigram, by johnson, on colley cibber and george the second, whose illiberal treatment of artists and learned men was a constant theme of his execration. as it has not yet been inserted among johnson's works, we will present it to the readers of the present edition, in this note. epitaphium[a] in thomam hanmer, baronettum. honorabilis admodum thomas hanmer, baronnettus, augustus still survives in maro's strain, and spenser's verse prolongs eliza's reign; great george's acts let tuneful gibber sing; for nature formed the poet for the king. wilhelmi hanmer armigeri, e peregrina henrici north de mildenhall, in com. suffolciae, baronetti sorore et haerede, filius; johannis hanmer de hanmer baronetti haeres patruelis antiquo gentis suae et titulo et patrimonio successit. duas uxores sortitus est; alteram isabellam, honore a patre derivato, de arlington comitissam, deinde celsissimi principis, ducis de grafton, viduam dotariam: alteram elizabetham, thomae foulkes de barton, in com. suff. armigeri filiam et haeredem. inter humanitatis studia feliciter enutritus, omnes liberalium artium disciplinas avide arripuit, quas morum suavitate baud leviter ornavit, postquam excessit ex ephebis, continuo inter populares suos fama eminens, et comitatus sui legatus ad parliamentum missus, ad ardua regni negotia, per annos prope triginta, se accinxit: cumque, apud illos amplissimorum virorum ordines, solent nihil temere effutire, sed probe perpensa diserte expromere, orator gravis et pressus, non minus integritatis quam eloquentiae laude commendatus, aeque omnium, utcunque inter se alioqui dissidentium, aures atque arrimos attraxit. annoque demum m.dcc.xiii. regnante anna, felicissimae florentissimaeque memoriae regina, ad prolocutoris cathedram, communi senatus universi voce, designatus est: quod munus, cum nullo tempore non difficile, tum illo certe, negotiis et variis, et lubricis, et implicatis, difficillimum, cum dignitate sustinuit. honores alios, et omnia quae sibi in lucrum cederent munera, sedulo detrectavit, ut rei totus inserviret publicae; justi rectique tenax, et fide in patriam incorrupta notus. ubi omnibus, quae virum civemque bonum decent, officiis satisfecisset, paulatim se a publicis consiliis in otium recipiens, inter literarum amoenitates, inter ante-actae vitae baud insuaves recordationes, inter amicorum convictus et amplexus, honorifice consenuit; et bonis omnibus, quibus charissimus vixit, desideratissimus obiit. hie, juxta cineres avi, suos condi voluit, et curavit gulielmus bunbury b'ttus, nepos et haeres. paraphrase of the above epitaph. by dr. johnson (b). thou, who survey'st these walls with curious eye, pause at the tomb, where hanmer's ashes lie; his various worth, through vary'd life, attend, and learn his virtues, while thou mourn'st his end. his force of genius burn'd, in early youth, with thirst of knowledge, and with love of truth; his learning, join'd with each endearing art, charm'd ev'ry ear, and gain'd on ev'ry heart. thus early wise, th' endanger'd realm to aid, his country call'd him from the studious shade; in life's first bloom his publick toils began, at once commenc'd the senator and man. in bus'ness dext'rous, weighty in debate, thrice ten long years he labour'd for the state; in ev'ry speech persuasive wisdom flow'd, in ev'ry act refulgent virtue glow'd: suspended faction ceas'd from rage and strife, to hear his eloquence, and praise his life. resistless merit fix'd the senate's choice, who hail'd him speaker, with united voice. illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone, when hanmer fill'd the chair--and anne the throne! then, when dark arts obscur'd each fierce debate, when mutual frauds perplex'd the maze of state, the moderator firmly mild appear'd-- beheld with love--with veneration heard. this task perform'd--he sought no gainful post, nor wish'd to glitter, at his country's cost: strict on the right he fix'd his steadfast eye, with temp'rate zeal and wise anxiety; nor e'er from virtue's paths was lur'd aside, to pluck the flow'rs of pleasure, or of pride. her gifts despis'd, corruption blush'd, and fled, and fame pursu'd him, where conviction led. age call'd, at length, his active mind to rest, with honour sated, and with cares oppress'd; to letter'd ease retir'd, and honest mirth, to rural grandeur and domestick worth; delighted still to please mankind, or mend, the patriot's fire yet sparkled in the friend. calm conscience, then, his former life survey'd, and recollected toils endear'd the shade, till nature call'd him to the gen'ral doom, and virtue's sorrow dignified his tomb. [a] at hanmer church, in flintshire. [b] this paraphrase is inserted in mrs. williams's miscellanies. the latin is there said to be written by dr. freind. of the person whose memory it celebrates, a copious account may be seen in the appendix to the supplement to the biographia britannica. to miss hickman[a], playing on the spinet. bright stella, form'd for universal reign, too well you know to keep the slaves you gain; when in your eyes resistless lightnings play, aw'd into love our conquer'd hearts obey, and yield reluctant to despotick sway: but, when your musick sooths the raging pain, we bid propitious heav'n prolong your reign, we bless the tyrant, and we hug the chain. when old timotheus struck the vocal string, ambition's fury fir'd the grecian king: unbounded projects lab'ring in his mind, he pants for room, in one poor world confin'd. thus wak'd to rage, by musick's dreadful pow'r, he bids the sword destroy, the flame devour. had stella's gentle touches mov'd the lyre, soon had the monarch felt a nobler fire; no more delighted with destructive war, ambitious only now to please the fair, resign'd his thirst of empire to her charms, and found a thousand worlds in stella's arms. [a] these lines, which have been communicated by dr. turton, son to mrs. turton, the lady to whom they are addressed by her maiden name of hickman, must have been written, at least, as early as , as that was the year of her marriage: at how much earlier a period of dr. johnson's life they might have been written, is not known. paraphrase of proverbs, chap. vi. verses , , , , , . _"go to the ant, thou sluggard[a]_." turn on the prudent ant thy heedful eyes, observe her labours, sluggard, and be wise: no stern command, no monitory voice, prescribes her duties, or directs her choice; yet, timely provident, she hastes away, to snatch the blessings of the plenteous day; when fruitful summer loads the teeming plain, she crops the harvest, and she stores the grain. how long shall sloth usurp thy useless hours, unnerve thy vigour, and enchain thy pow'rs; while artful shades thy downy couch inclose, and soft solicitation courts repose? amidst the drowsy charms of dull delight, year chases year with unremitted flight, till want now following, fraudulent and slow, shall spring to seize thee like an ambush'd foe. [a] first printed in mrs. williams's miscellanies. horace, lib. iv. ode vii. translated. the snow, dissolv'd, no more is seen, the fields and woods, behold! are green; the changing year renews the plain, the rivers know their banks again; the sprightly nymph and naked grace the mazy dance together trace; the changing year's successive plan proclaims mortality to man; rough winter's blasts to spring give way, spring yields to summer's sov'reign ray; then summer sinks in autumn's reign, and winter chills the world again; her losses soon the moon supplies, but wretched man, when once he lies where priam and his sons are laid, is nought but ashes and a shade. who knows if jove, who counts our score, will toss us in a morning more? what with your friend you nobly share, at least you rescue from your heir. not you, torquatus, boast of rome, when minos once has fixed your doom, or eloquence, or splendid birth, or virtue, shall restore to earth. hippolytus, unjustly slain, diana calls to life in vain; nor can the might of theseus rend the chains of hell that hold his friend. nov. . the following translations, parodies, and burlesque verses, most of them extempore, are taken from anecdotes of dr. johnson, published by mrs. piozzi. anacreon, ode ix. lovely courier of the sky, whence and whither dost thou fly? scatt'ring, as thy pinions play, liquid fragrance all the way: is it business? is it love? tell me, tell me, gentle dove. soft anacreon's vows i bear, vows to myrtale the fair; grac'd with all that charms the heart, blushing nature, smiling art. venus, courted by an ode, on the bard her dove bestow'd: vested with a master's right, now anacreon rules my flight; his the letters that you see, weighty charge, consign'd to me: think not yet my service hard, joyless task without reward; smiling at my master's gates, freedom my return awaits; but the lib'ral grant in vain tempts me to be wild again. can a prudent dove decline blissful bondage such as mine? over hills and fields to roam, fortune's guest without a home; under leaves to hide one's head slightly shelter'd, coarsely fed: now my better lot bestows sweet repast and soft repose; now the gen'rous bowl i sip, as it leaves anacreon's lip: void of care, and free from dread, from his fingers snatch his bread; then, with luscious plenty gay, round his chamber dance and play; or from wine, as courage springs, o'er his face extend my wings; and when feast and frolick tire, drop asleep upon his lyre. this is all, be quick and go, more than all thou canst not know; let me now my pinions ply, i have chatter'd like a pie. lines written in ridicule of certain poems published in . wheresor'er i turn my view, all is strange, yet nothing new; endless labour all along, endless labour to be wrong; phrase that time hath flung away, uncouth words in disarray, trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, ode, and elegy, and sonnet. parody of a translation. from the medea of euripides. err shall they not, who resolute explore times gloomy backward with judicious eyes; and, scanning right the practices of yore, shall deem our hoar progenitors unwise. they to the dome, where smoke, with curling play, announc'd the dinner to the regions round, summon'd the singer blithe, and harper gay, and aided wine with dulcet-streaming sound. the better use of notes, or sweet or shrill, by quiv'ring string or modulated wind; trumpet or lyre--to their harsh bosoms chill admission ne'er had sought, or could not find. oh! send them to the sullen mansions dun, her baleful eyes where sorrow rolls around; where gloom-enamour'd mischief loves to dwell, and murder, all blood-bolter'd, schemes the wound. when cates luxuriant pile the spacious dish, and purple nectar glads the festive hour; the guest, without a want, without a wish, can yield no room to musick's soothing pow'r. translation from the medea of euripides, v. [a] the rites deriv'd from ancient days, with thoughtless reverence we praise; the rites that taught us to combine the joys of musick and of wine, and bade the feast, and song, and bowl o'erfill the saturated soul: but ne'er the flute or lyre applied to cheer despair, or soften pride; nor call'd them to the gloomy cells where want repines and vengeance swells; where hate sits musing to betray, and murder meditates his prey. to dens of guilt and shades of care, ye sons of melody repair, nor deign the festive dome to cloy with superfluities of joy. ah! little needs the minstrel's power to speed the light convivial hour. the board, with varied plenty crown'd, may spare the luxuries of sound[b]. [a] the classical reader will, doubtless, be pleased to see the exquisite original in immediate comparison with this translation; we, therefore, subjoin it, and also dr. j. warton's imitation of the same passage. [greek:] skaious de legon kouden ti sophous tous prosthe brotous, ouk an amartois oitines umnous epi men thaliais, epi d'eilapinais kai para deipnois euronto biou terpnas akoas stugious de broton oudeis pulas eureto mousae kai poluchordois odais pauein, exon thanatoi deinai te tuchai sphallonsi domous kaitoi tade men kerdos akeisthai molpaisi brotous ina d'endeipnoi daites ti mataen teinousi boan to paron gar echei terpsin aph auton daitos plaeroma brotaoisin medea, -- . ed. pors queen of every moving measure, sweetest source of purest pleasure, music! why thy pow'rs employ only for the sons of joy; only for the smiling guests, at natal or at nuptial feasts? rather thy lenient numbers pour on those, whom secret griefs devour, bid be still the throbbing hearts of those whom death or absence parts, and, with some softly whisper'd air, sooth the brow of dumb despair. [b] this translation was written by johnson for his friend dr. burney, and was inserted, as the work of "a learned friend," in that gentleman's history of musick, vol. ii. p. . it has always been ascribed to johnson; but, to put the matter beyond a doubt, mr. malone ascertained the fact by applying to dr. burney himself. j. b. translation of the first two stanzas of the song "rio verde, rio verde," printed in bishop percy's reliques of ancient english poetry. an impromptu. glassy water, glassy water, down whose current, clear and strong, chiefs confused in mutual slaughter, moor and christian roll along. imitation of the style of ****. hermit hoar, in solemn cell wearing out life's ev'ning grey, strike thy bosom, sage, and tell what is bliss, and which the way. thus i spoke, and speaking sigh'd, scarce repress'd the starting tear, when the hoary sage reply'd, come, my lad, and drink some beer. burlesque of the following lines of lopez de vega. an impromptu. se a quien los leones vence vence una muger hermosa, o el de flaco avergonze, o ella di ser mas furiosa. if the man who turnips cries, cry not when his father dies, 'tis a proof, that he had rather have a turnip than his father. translation of the following lines at the end of baretti's easy phraseology. an impromptu. viva, viva la padrona! tutta bella, e tutta buona, la padrona è un' angiolella tutta buona e tutta bella; tutta bella e tutta buona; viva! viva la padrona! long may live my lovely hetty! always young, and always pretty; always pretty, always young, live, my lovely hetty, long! always young, and always pretty, long may live my lovely hetty! improviso translation of the following distich on the duke of modena's running away from the comet in or . se al venir vostro i principi sen' vanno deh venga ogni di--durate un' anno. if at your coming princes disappear, comets! come every day--and stay a year. improviso translation of the following lines of m. benserade a son lit. theatre des ris, et des pleurs, lit! où je nais, et où je meurs, tu nous fais voir comment voisins sont nos plaisirs, et nos chagrins. in bed we laugh, in bed we cry, and, born in bed, in bed we die; the near approach a bed may show of human bliss to human woe. epitaph for mr. hogarth. the hand of him here torpid lies, that drew th' essential form of grace; here clos'd in death th' attentive eyes, that saw the manners in the face. translation of the following lines, written under a print representing persons skating. sur un mince cristal l'hiver conduit leurs pas, le précipice est sous la glace: telle est de nos plaisirs la légère surface: glissez, mortels; n'appuyez pas. o'er ice the rapid skater flies, with sport above, and death below; where mischief lurks in gay disguise, thus lightly touch and quickly go. impromptu translation of the same. o'er crackling ice, o'er gulfs profound, with nimble glide the skaters play; o'er treach'rous pleasure's flow'ry ground thus lightly skim, and haste away. to mrs. thrale, on her completing her thirty-fifth year. an impromptu. oft in danger, yet alive, we are come to thirty-five; long may better years arrive, better years than thirty-five! could philosophers contrive life to stop at thirty-five, time his hours should never drive o'er the bounds of thirty-five. high to soar, and deep to dive, nature gives at thirty-five. ladies, stock and tend your hive, trifle not at thirty-five; for, howe'er we boast and strive. life declines from thirty-five. he that ever hopes to thrive must begin by thirty-five; and all, who wisely wish to wive, must look on thrale at thirty-five. impromptu translation of an air in the clemenza di tito of metastasio, beginning "deh se piacermi vuoi." would you hope to gain my heart, bid your teasing doubts depart; he, who blindly trusts, will find faith from ev'ry gen'rous mind: he, who still expects deceit, only teaches how to cheat. translation of a speech of aquileio, in the adriano of metastasio, beginning "tu che in corte invecchiasti[a]." grown old in courts, thou surely art not one who keeps the rigid rules of ancient honour; well skill'd to sooth a foe with looks of kindness, to sink the fatal precipice before him, and then lament his fall, with seeming friendship: open to all, true only to thyself, thou know'st those arts, which blast with envious praise, which aggravate a fault, with feign'd excuses, and drive discountenanc'd virtue from the throne; that leave the blame of rigour to the prince, and of his ev'ry gift usurp the merit; that hide, in seeming zeal, a wicked purpose, and only build upon another's ruin. [a] the character of cali, in irene, is a masterly sketch of the old and practised dissembler of a despotic court,--ed. burlesque of the modern versifications of ancient legendary tales. an impromptu. the tender infant, meek and mild, fell down upon the stone: the nurse took up the squealing child, but still the child squeal'd on. friendship; an ode[a]. friendship, peculiar boon of heaven, the noble mind's delight and pride, to men and angels only given, to all the lower world deny'd. while love, unknown among the blest, parent of thousand wild desires[b], the savage and the human breast torments alike with raging fires[c]; with bright, but oft destructive, gleam, alike, o'er all his lightnings fly; thy lambent glories only beam around the fav'rites of the sky. thy gentle flows of guiltless joys on fools and villains ne'er descend; in vain for thee the tyrant sighs[d], and hugs a flatt'rer for a friend. directress of the brave and just[e], o! guide us through life's darksome way! and let the tortures of mistrust on selfish bosoms only prey. nor shall thine ardours cease to glow[f], when souls to blissful climes remove: what rais'd our virtue here below, shall aid our happiness above. [a] this ode originally appeared in the gentleman's magazine for . see boswell's life of johnson, under that year. it was afterwards printed in mrs. williams's miscellanies, in , with several variations, which are pointed out, below.--j.b. [b] parent of rage and hot desires.--mrs. w. [c] inflames alike with equal fires. [d] in vain for thee the _monarch_ sighs. [e] this stanza is omitted in mrs. william's miscellanies, and instead of it, we have the following, which may be suspected, from internal evidence, not to have been johnson's: when virtues, kindred virtues meet, and sister-souls together join, thy pleasures permanent, as great, are all transporting--all divine. [f] o! shall thy flames then cease to glow. on seeing a bust of mrs. montague. had this fair figure, which this frame displays, adorn'd in roman time the brightest days, in every dome, in every sacred place, her statue would have breath'd an added grace, and on its basis would have been enroll'd, "this is minerva, cast in virtue's mould." improviso on a young heir's coming of age long expected one-and-twenty, ling'ring year, at length is flown; pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, great----, are now your own. loosen'd from the minor's tether, free to mortgage or to sell; wild as wind, and light as feather, bid the sons of thrift farewell. call the betseys, kates, and jennies, all the names that banish care; lavish of your grandsire's guineas, show the spirit of an heir. all that prey on vice or folly joy to see their quarry fly: there the gamester light and jolly, there the lender grave and sly. wealth, my lad, was made to wander, let it wander as it will; call the jockey, call the pander, bid them come, and take their fill. when the bonny blade carouses, pockets full, and spirits high-- what are acres? what are houses? only dirt, or wet or dry. should the guardian friend, or mother tell the woes of wilful waste; scorn their counsel, scorn their pother, you can hang or drown at last. epitaphs. at lichfield. h. s. e. michael johnson, vir impavidus, constans, animosus, periculorum immemor, laborum patientissimus; fiducia christiana fortis, fervidusque; paterfamilias apprime strenuus; bibliopola admodum peritus; mente et libris et negotiis exculta; animo ita firmo, ut, rebus adversis diu conflictatus, nec sibi nec suis defuerit; lingua sic temperata, ut ei nihil quod aures vel pias vel castas laesisset, aut dolor vel voluptas unquam expresserit. natus cubleiae, in agro derbiensi, anno mdclvi; obijt mdccxxxi. apposita est sara, conjux, antiqua fordorum gente oriunda; quam domi sedulam, foris paucis notam; nulli molestam, mentis acumine et judicii subtilitate praecellentem; aliis multum, sibi parum indulgentem: aeternitati semper attentam, omne fere virtutis nomen commendavit. nata nortoniae regis, in agro varvicensi, anno mdclxix; obijt mdcclix. cum nathanaele, illorum filio, qui natus mdccxii. cum vires et animi et corporis multa pollicerentur, anno mdccxxxvii. vitam brevem pia morte finivit. in bromley church. hic conduntur reliquae elizabethae antiqua jarvisiorum gente peatlingae, apud leicestrenses, ortae; formosae, cultae, ingeniosae, piae; uxoris, primis nuptiis, henrici porter, secundis, samuelis johnson, qui multum amatam, diuque defletam, hoc lapide contexit. obijt londini, mense mart. a. d. mdccliii. in watford church. in the vault below are deposited the remains of jane bell[a], wife of john bell, esq. who, in the fifty-third year of her age, surrounded with many worldly blessings, heard, with fortitude and composure truly great, the horrible malady, which had, for some time, begun to afflict her, pronounced incurable; and for more than three years, endured with patience, and concealed with decency, the daily tortures of gradual death; continued to divide the hours not allotted to devotion, between the cares of her family, and the converse of her friends; rewarded the attendance of duty, and acknowledged the offices of affection; and, while she endeavoured to alleviate by cheerfulness her husband's sufferings and sorrows, increased them by her gratitude for his care, and her solicitude for his quiet. to the testimony of these virtues, more highly honoured, as more familiarly known, this monument is erected by john bell. [a] she died in october, . in stretham church. juxta sepulta est hestera maria, thomae cotton de combermere, baronetti cestriensis, filia, johannis salusbury, armigeri flintiensis, uxor, forma felix, felix ingenio; omnibus jucunda, suorum amantissima. linguis artibusque ita exeulta, ut loquenti nunquam deessent sermonis nitor, sententiarum flosculi, sapientiae gravitas, leporum gratia: modum servandi adeo perita, ut domestica inter negotia literis oblectaretur; literarum inter delicias, rem familiarem sedulo curaret. multis illi multos annos precantibus diri carcinomatis venene contabuit, nexibusque vitae paulatim resolutis, e terris, meliora sperans, emigravit. nata . nupta . obijt . in westminster abbey. olivarii goldsmith, poetae, physici, historici, qui nullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit: sive risus essent movendi, sive lacrimae, affectuum potens, at lenis, dominator: ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus: hoc monumento memoriam coluit sodalium amor, amicorum fides, lectorum veneratio. elfiniae, in hibernia, natus mdccxxix. eblauae literis institutus: londini obijt mdcclxxiv [a]. [a] this is the epitaph, that drew from gibbon, sir j. reynolds, sheridan, joseph warton, &c. the celebrated _round robin_, composed by burke, intreating johnson to write an english epitaph on an english author. his reply was, in the genuine spirit of an old scholar, "he would never consent to disgrace the walls of westminster abbey with an english inscription." one of his arguments, in favour of a common learned language, was ludicrously cogent: "consider, sir, how you should feel, were you to find, at rotterdam, an epitaph, upon erasmus, _in dutch_!" boswell, iii. he would, however, undoubtedly have written a better epitaph in english, than in latin. his compositions in that language are not of first rate excellence, either in prose or verse. the epitaph, in stretham church, on mr. thrale, abounds with inaccuracies; and those who are fond of detecting little blunders in great men, may be amply gratified in the perusal of a review of thrale's epitaph in the classical journal, xii. . his greek epitaph on goldsmith, is not remarkable in itself, but we will subjoin it, in this place, as a literary curiosity. [greek:] thon taphon eisoraas thon olibarioio, koniaen aphrosi mae semnaen, xeine, podessi patei. oisi memaele phusis, metron charis, erga palaion, klaiete poiaetaen, istorikon, phusikon. --ed. in stretham church. hie conditur quod reliquum est henrici thrale, qui res seu civiles, seu domesticas, ita egit, ut vitam illi longiorem multi optarent; ita sacras, ut quam brevem esset habiturus praescire videretur; simplex, apertus, sibique semper similis, nihil ostentavit aut arte fictum, aut cura elaboratum. in senatu, regi patriaeque fideliter studuit, vulgi obstrepentis contemptor animosus; domi, inter mille mercaturae negotia, literarum elegantiam minime neglexit. amicis, quocunque modo laborantibus, consiliis, auctoritate, muneribus, adfuit. inter familiares, comites, convivas, hospites, tam facili fuit morum suavitate ut omnium animos ad se alliceret; tam felici sermonis libertate, ut nulli adulatus, omnibus placeret. natus . obijt . consortes tumuli habet rodolphum, patrem, strenuum fortemque virum, et henricum, filium unicum, quem spei parentum mors inopiua decennem proripuit. ita domus felix et opulenta quam erexit avus, auxitque pater, cum nepote decidit. abi, viator, et, vicibus rerum humanarum perspectis, aeternitatem cogita! poemata messia [a]. ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo tantum versificator. scalig. poet. tollite concentum, solymaeae tollite nymphae, nil mortale loquor; coelum mihi carminis alta materies; poscunt gravius coelestia plectrum. muscosi fontes, sylvestria tecta, valete, aonidesque deae, et mendacis somnia pindi: tu, mihi, qui flamma movisti pectora sancti siderea isaiae, dignos accende furores! immatura calens rapitur per secula vates sic orsus--qualis rerum mihi nascitur ordo! virgo! virgo parit! felix radicibus arbor jessaeis surgit, mulcentesque sethera flores coelestes lambunt animae, ramisque columba, nuncia sacra dei, plaudentibus insidet alis. nectareos rores, alimentaque mitia coelum praebeat, et tacite foecundos irriget imbres. hue, foedat quos lepra, urit quos febris, adeste, dia salutares spirant medicamina rami; hic requies fessis: non sacra sacvit in umbra vis boreae gelida, aut rapidi violeutia solis. irrita vanescent priscae vestigia fraudis, justitiaeque manus, pretio intemerata, bilancem attollet reducis; bellis praetendet olivas compositis pax alma suas, terrasque revisens sedatas niveo virtus lucebit amictu.-- volvantur celeres anni! lux purpuret ortum expectata diu! naturae claustra refringens, nascere, magne puer! tibi primas, ecce, corollas deproperat tellus, fundit tibi munera, quicquid carpit arabs, hortis quicquid frondescit eois; altius, en! lebanon gaudentia culmina tollit; en! summo exultant nutantes vertice sylvae: mittit aromaticas vallis saronica nubes, et juga carmeli recreant fragrantia coelum. deserti laeta mollescunt aspera voce: auditur deus! ecce deus! reboantia circum saxa sonant, deus! ecce deus! deflectitur aether, demissumque deum tellus capit; ardua cedrus, gloria sylvarum, dominum inclinata salutet: surgite convalles, tumidi subsidite montes! sternite saxa viam, rapidi discedite fluctus; en! quem turba diu cecinerunt enthea, vates, en! salvator adest; vultus agnoscite, caeci, divinos, surdos sacra vox permulceat aures. ille cutim spissam visus hebetare vetabit, reclusisque oculis infundet amabile lumen; obstrictasque diu linguas in carmina solvet. ille vias vocis pandet, flexusque liquentis harmoniae purgata novos mirabitur auris. accrescunt teneris tactu nova robora nervis: consuetus fulcro innixus reptare bacilli nunc saltu capreas, nunc cursu provocat euros. non planctus, non moesta sonant suspiria; pectus singultans mulcet, lachrymantes tergit ocellos. vincla coercebunt luctantem adamantina mortem, aeternoque orci dominator vuluere languens invalidi raptos sceptri plorabit honores. ut, qua dulce strepunt scatebrse, qua lasta virescunt pascua, qua blandum spirat purissimus aer, pastor agit pecudes, teneros modo suscipit agnos, et gremio fotis selectas porrigit herbas, amissas modo quserit oves, revocatque vagantes; fidus adest custos, seu nox furat humida nimbis, sive dies medius morieutia torreat arva. postera sic pastor divinus secla beabit, et curas felix patrias testabitur orbis. non ultra infestis concurrent agmina signis, hostiles oculis flammas jaculantia torvis; non litui accendent bellum, non campus ahenis triste coruscabit radiis; dabit hasta recusa vomerem, et in falcem rigidus curvabitur ensis. atria, pacis opus, surgent, finemque caduci natus ad optatum perducet coepta parentis. qui duxit sulcos, illi teret area messem, et serae texent vites umbracula proli. attoniti dumeta vident inculta coloni suave rubere rosis, sitientesque inter arenas garrula mirantur salientis murmura rivi. per saxa, ignivomi nuper spelaea draconis, canna viret, juncique tremit variabilis umbra. horruit implexo qua vallis sente, figurae surgit amans abies teretis, buxique sequaces artificis frondent dextrae; palmisque rubeta aspera, odoratae cedunt mala gramiua myrto. per valles sociata lupo lasciviet agna, cumque leone petet tutus praesepe juvencus. florea mansuetae petulantes vincula tigri per ludum pueri injicient, et fessa colubri membra viatoris recreabunt frigore linguae. serpentes teneris nil jam lethale micantes tractabit palmis infans, motusque trisulcae bidebit linguae innocuos, squamasque virentes aureaque admirans rutilantis fulgura cristae. indue reginam, turritae frontis honores tolle salema sacros, quam circum gloria pennas explicat, incinctam radiatae luce tiaras! en! formosa tibi spatiosa per atria proles ordinibus surgit densis, vitamque requirit impatiens, lenteque fluentes increpat annos. ecce peregrinis fervent tua limina turbis; barbarus, en! clarum divino lumine templum ingreditur, cultuque tuo mansuescere gaudet. cinnameos cumulos, nabathaei munera veris, ecce! cremant genibus tritae regalibus arae. solis ophyraeis crudum tibi montibus aurum maturant radii; tibi balsama sudat idume. aetheris en! portas sacro fulgore micantes coelicolae pandunt, torrentis aurea lucis flumina prorumpunt; non posthac sole rubescet india nascenti, placidaeve argentea noctis luna vices revehet; radios pater ipse diei proferet archetypos; coelestis gaudia lucis ipso fonte bibes, quae circumfusa beatam regiam inundabit, nullis cessura tenebris. littora deficiens arentia deseret aequor; sidera fumabunt, diro labefaeta tremore saxa cadent, solidique liquescent robora montis: tu secura tamen confusa elementa videbis, laetaque messia semper dominabere rege, pollicitis firmata dei, stabilita ruinis. [a] this translation has been severely criticised by dr. warton, in his edition of pope, vol. i. p. , vo. . it certainly contains some expressions that are not classical. let it be remembered, however, that it was a college exercise, performed with great rapidity, and was, at first, praised, beyond all suspicion of defect--this translation was first published in a miscellany of poems by several hands. published by j. husbands, a.m. fellow of pembroke college, oxon. vo. oxford, . of johnson's production, mr. husbands says, in his preface, "the translation of mr. pope's messiah was delivered to his tutor as a college exercise, by mr. johnson, a commoner of pembroke college in oxford, and 'tis hoped will be no discredit to the excellent original." mr. husbands died in the following year. [jan. , , .] vitae qui varias vices rerum perpetuus temperat arbiter, laeto cedere lumini noctis tristitiam qui gelidae jubet, acri sanguine turgidos, obductosque oculos nubibus humidis sanari voluit meos; et me, cuncta beaus cui nocuit dies, luci reddidit et mihi. qua te laude, deus, qua prece prosequar? sacri discipulis libri te semper studiis utilibus colam: grates, summe pater, tuis recte qui fruitur muneribus, dedit. [dec. , .] nunc dies christo memoranda nato fulsit, in pectus mihi fonte purum gaudium sacro fluat, et benigni gratia coeli! christe, da tutam trepido quietem, christe, spem praesta stabilem timenti; da fidem certam, precibusque fidis annue, christe. [in lecto, die passionis, apr. , .] summe deus, qui semper amas quodcunque creasti; judice quo, scelerum est poenituisse salus: da veteres noxas animo sic flere novato, per christum ut veniam sit reperire mihi. [in lecto, dec. , .] spe non inani confugis, peccator, ad latus meum; quod poscis, hand unquam tibi negabitur solatium. (nocte, inter et junii, [a]) summe pater, quodcunque tuum[b] de corpore numen[c] hoc statuat[d], precibus[e] christus adesse velit: ingenio parcas, nee sit mihi culpa rogasse[f], qua solum potero parte, placere[g] tibi. [a] the night, above referred to by dr. johnson, was that, in which a paralytic stroke had deprived him of his voice; and, in the anxiety he felt, lest it should, likewise, have impaired his understanding, he composed the above lines, and said, concerning them, that he knew, at the time, that they were not good, but then, that he deemed his discerning this to be sufficient for quieting the anxiety before mentioned, as it showed him, that his power of judging was not diminished. [b] al. tuae. [c] al. leges. [d] al. statuant. [e] al. votis. [f] al. precari. [g] al. litare. [cal. jan. in lecto, ante lucem, .] summe dator vitae, naturae aeterne magister, causarum series quo moderante fluit, respice quem subiget senium, morbique seniles, quem terret vitae meta propinqua suae, respice inutiliter lapsi quem poenitet aevi; recte ut poeniteat, respice, magne parens. pater benigne, summa semper lenitas, crimine gravatam plurimo mentem leva: concede veram poenitentiam, precor, concede agendam legibus vitam tuis. sacri vagantes luminis gressus face rege, et tuere; quae nocent pellens procul: veniam petenti, summe, da veniam, pater; veniaeque sancta pacis adde gaudia: sceleris ut expers, omni et vacuus metu, te, mente pura, mente tranquilla colam, mihi dona morte haec impetret christus sua. [jan. , .] summe pater, puro collustra lumine pectus, anxietas noceat ne tenebrosa mihi. in me sparsa manu virtutum semina larga sic ale, proveniat messis ut ampla boni. noctes atque dies animo spes laeta recurset; certa mihi sancto flagret amore fides; certa vetat dubitare fides, spes laeta timere; velle vetet cuiquam non bene sanctus amor. da, ne sint permissa, pater, mihi praemia frustra, et colere, et leges semper amare tuas. haec mihi, quo gentes, quo secula, christe, piasti, sanguine, precanti promereare tuo! [feb. , .] mens mea, quid quereris? veniet tibi mollior hora, in summo ut videas numine laeta patrem; divinam insontes iram placavit iesus; nunc est pro poena poenituisse reis. christianus perfectus. qui cupit in sanctos, christo cogente, referri, abstergat mundi labem, nec gaudia carnis captans, nec fastu tumidus, semperque futuro instet, et evellens terroris spicula corde, suspiciat tandem clementem in numine patrem. huic quoque, nec genti nec sectae noxius ulli, sit sacer orbis amor, miseris qui semper adesse gestiat, et, nullo pietatis limite clausus, cunctorum ignoscat vitiis, pictate fruatur. ardeat huic toto sacer ignis pectore, possit ut vitam, poscat si res, impendere vero. cura placere deo sit prima, sit ultima; sanctae irruptum vitae cupiat servare tenorem; et sibi, delirans quanquam et peccator in horas displiceat, servet tutum sub pectore rectum: nec natet, et nunc has partes, nunc eligat illas, nec dubitet quem dicat herum, sed, totus in uno, se fidum addicat christo, mortalia temnens. sed timeat semper, caveatque ante omnia, turbae ne stolidae similis, leges sibi segreget audax quas servare velit, leges quas lentus omittat, plenum opus effugiens, aptans juga mollia collo, sponte sua demens; nihilum decedere summae vult deus, at qui cuncta dedit tibi, cuncta reposcit. denique perpetuo contendit in ardua nisu, auxilioque dei fretus, jam mente serena pergit, et imperiis sentit se dulcibus actum. paulatim mores, animum, vitamque refingit, effigiemque dei, quantum servare licebit, induit, et, terris major, coelestia spirat. aeterne rerum conditor, salutis aeternae dator; felicitatis sedibus qui nec scelestos exigis, quoscumque scelerum poenitet; da, christe, poenitentiam, veniamque, christe, da mihi; aegrum trahenti spiritum succurre praesens corpori; multo gravatam crimine mentem benignus alleva. luce collustret mihi pectus alma, pellat et tristes animi tenebras, nec sinat semper tremere ac dolere, gratia christi. me pater tandem reducem benigno summus amplexu foveat, beato me gregi sanctus socium beatum spiritus addat. jejunium et cibus. serviat ut menti corpus jejunia serva, ut mens utatur corpore, sume cibos. ad urbanum[a], . urbane, nullis fesse laboribus, urbane, nullis victe calumniis, cui fronte sertum in erudita perpetuo viret, et virebit; quid moliatur gens imitantium, quid et minetur, solicitus parum, vacare solis perge musis, juxta animo, studiisque foelix. linguae procacis plumbea spicula, fidens, superbo frange silentio; victrix per obstantes catervas sedulitas animosa tendet. intende nervos fortis, inanibus risurus olim nisibus emuli; intende jam nervos, habebis participes opera camoenas. non ulla musis pagina gratior, quam quae severis ludicra jungere novit, fatigatamque nugis utilibus recreare mentem. texente nymphis serta lycoride, rosae ruborem sic viola adjuvat immista, sic iris refulget aethereis variata fucis. [a] see gent. mag. vol. viii. p. ; and see also the introduction to vol. liv. in rivum a mola stoana lichfeldiae diffluentem. errat adhuc vitreus per prata virentia rivus, quo toties lavi membra tenella puer; hic delusa rudi frustrabar brachia motu, dum docuit, blanda voce, natare pater. fecerunt rami latebras, tenebrisque diurnis pendula secretas abdidit arbor aquas. nunc veteres duris periere securibus umbrae, longinquisque oculis nuda lavacra patent. lympha, tamen, cursus agit indefessa perennis, tectaque qua fluxit, nunc et aperta fluit. quid ferat externi velox, quid deterat aetas, tu quoque securus res age, nise, tuas. [greek: gnothi seauton][a] [post lexicon anglicanum auctum et emendatum.] lexicon ad finem longo luctamine tandem scaliger ut duxit, tenuis pertaesus opellae, vile indignatus studium, nugasque molestas ingemit exosus, scribendaque lexica mandat damnatis, poenam pro poenis omnibus unam. ille quidem recte, sublimis, doctus et acer, quem decuit majora sequi, majoribus aptum, qui veterum modo facta ducum, modo carmina vatum, gesserat, et quicquid virtus, sapientia quicquid dixerat, imperiique vices, coelique meatus, ingentemque animo seclorum volveret orbem. fallimur exemplis; temere sibi turba scholarum ima tuas credit permitti, scaliger, iras. quisque suum norit modulum; tibi, prime virorum, ut studiis sperem, aut ausim par esse querelis, non mihi sorte datum; lenti seu sanguinis obsint frigora, seu nimium longo jacuisse veterno, sive mihi mentem dederit natura minorem. te sterili functum cura, vocumque salebris tuto eluctatum, spatiis sapientia dia excipit aethereis, ars omnis plaudit amico, linguarumque omni terra discordia concors multiplici reducem circumsonat ore magistrum. me, pensi immunis cum jam mihi reddor, inertis desidiae sors dura manet, graviorque labore tristis et atra quies, et tardae taedia vitae. nascuntur curis curae, vexatque dolorum importuna cohors, vacuae mala somnia mentis. nunc clamosa juvant nocturnae gaudia mensae, nunc loca sola placent; frustra te, somne, recumbens, alme voco, impatiens noctis, metuensque diei. omnia percurro trepidus, circum omnia lustro, si qua usquam pateat melioris semita vitae, nec quid again invenio; meditatus grandia, cogor notior ipse mihi fieri, incultumque fateri pectus, et ingenium vano se robore jactans. ingenium, nisi materiem doctrina ministrat, cessat inops rerum, ut torpet, si marmoris absit copia, phidiaci foecunda potentia coeli. quicquid agam, quocunque ferar, conatibus obstat res angusta domi, et macrae penuria mentis. non rationis opes animus, nunc parta recensens conspicit aggestas, et se miratur in illis, nec sibi de gaza praesens quod postulat usus summus adesse jubet celsa dominator ab arce; non, operum serie seriem dum computat aevi, praeteritis fruitur, laetos aut sumit honores ipse sui judex, actae bene munera vitae; sed sua regna videns, loca nocte silentia late horret, ubi vanae species, umbraeque fugaces, et rerum volitant rarae per inane figurae. quid faciam? tenebrisne pigram damnare senectam restat? an accingar studiis gravioribus audax? aut, hoc si nimium est, tandem nova lexica poscam? [a] for a translation of this poem, see murphy's essay on the life and genius of dr. johnson, prefixed to the present volume. ad thomam laurence, medicum doctissimum, cum filium peregre agentem desiderio nimis tristi prosequeretur. fateris ergo, quod populus solet crepare vecors, nil sapientiam prodesse vitae, literasque in dubiis dare terga rebus. tu, queis laborat sors hominum, mala nec vincis acer, nee pateris pius; te mille succorum potentem destituit medicina mentis. per caeca noctis taedia turbidae, pigrae per horas lucis inutiles, torpesque, languescisque, curis solicitus nimis heu! paternis. tandem dolori plus satis est datum, exsurge fortis, nunc animis opus, te, docta, laurenti, vetustas, te medici revocant labores. permitte summo quicquid habes patri, permitte fidens; et muliebribus, amice, majorem querelis redde tuis, tibi redde, mentem. in theatro, march , . tertii verso quater orbe lustri, quid theatrales tibi, crispe, pompae? quam decet canos male litteratos sera voluptas! tene mulceri fidibus canoris? tene cantorum modulis stupere? tene per pictas, oculo elegante, currere formas? inter aequales, sine felle liber, codices, veri studiosus, inter rectius vives. sua quisque carpat gaudia gratus. lusibus gaudet puer otiosis, luxus oblectat juvenem theatri, at seni fluxo sapienter uti tempore restat. insula kennethi, inter hebridas. parva quidem regio, sed religione priorum clara, caledonias panditur inter aquas. voce ubi cennethus populos domuisse feroces dicitur, et vanos dedocuisse deos. huc ego delatus placido per caerulea cursu, scire locus volui quid daret iste novi. illic leniades humili regnabat in aula, leniades, magnis nobilitatus avis. una duas cepit casa cum genitore puellas, quas amor undarum crederet esse deas. nec tamen inculti gelidis latuere sub antris, accola danubii qualia saevus habet. mollia non desunt vacuae solatia vitae, sive libros poscant otia, sive lyram. fulserat ilia dies, legis qua docta supernae spes hominum et curas gens procul esse jubet. ut precibus justas avertat numinis iras, et summi accendat pectus amore boni. ponte inter strepitus non sacri munera cultus cessarunt, pietas hic quoque cura fuit: nil opus est aeris sacra de turre sonantis admonitu, ipsa suas nunciat hora vices. quid, quod sacrifici versavit foemina libros. sint pro legitimis pura labella sacris-- quo vagor ulterius? quod ubique requiritur hic est; hic secura quies, hic et honestus amor. skia. ponti profundis clausa recessibus, strepens procellis, rupibus obsita, quam grata defesso virentem, skia, sinum nebulosa pandis! his cura, credo, sedibus exulat; his blanda certe pax habitat locis; non ira, non moeror quietis insidias meditatur horis. at non cavata rupe latescere, menti nec aegrae montibus aviis prodest vagari, nec frementes in specula numerare fluctus. humana virtus non sibi sufficit; datur nec aequum cuique animum sibi parare posse, utcunque jactet grandiloquus nimis alta zeno. exaestuantis pectoris impetum, rex summe, solus tu regis, arbiter; mentisque, te tollente, fluctus; te, resident, moderante fluctus. ode de skia insula. permeo terras, ubi nuda rupes saxeas miscet nebulis ruinas, torva ubi rident steriles coloni rura labores. pervagor gentes hominum ferorum, vita ubi nullo decorata cultu squallet informis, tugurique fumis foeda latescit. inter erroris salebrosa longi, inter ignotae strepitus loquelae, quot modis, mecum, quid agat, requiro, thralia dulcis? seu viri curas pia nupta mulcet, seu fovet mater sobolem benigna, sive cum libris novitate pascit sedula mentem. sit memor nostri, fideique solvat fida mercedem, meritoque blandum thraliae discant resonare nomen littora skiae. spes. apr. , . hora sic peragit citata cursum; sic diem sequitur dies fugacem! spes novas nova lux parit, secunda spondens omnia credulis homullis; spes ludit stolidas, metuque caeco lux angit, miseros ludens homullos. versus collari caprae domini banks inscribendi. perpetui, ambita bis terra, praemia lactis haec habet, altrici capra secunda jovis. ad foeminam quandam generosam quae libertatis causae in sermone patrocinata fuerat. liber ut esse velim, suasisti, pulchra maria: ut maneam liber, pulchra maria, vale. jactura temporis. hora perit furtim laetis, mens temporis aegra pigritiam incusat, nec minus hora perit. quas navis recipit, quantum sit pondus aquarum, dimidrum tanti ponderis intret onus. quot vox missa pedes abit, horae parte secunda? undecies centum denos quater adde duosque. [greek: eis birchion][a] [greek:] eiden alaetheiae proaen chairousa graphonta haeroon te bious birchion, aede sophon kai bion, eipen, hotan rhipsaes thanatoio belessi, sou pote grapsomenon birchion allon echois. [a] the rev. dr. thomas birch, author of the history of the royal society, and other works of note. [greek:] eis to taes elissaes peri ton oneiron ainigma.[a] tae kallous dunamei ti telos; zeus panta dedoken kupridi, und' autou skaeptra memaele theo. aek dios estin onap, theios pot' egrapsen homaeros, alla tod' eis thnaetous kupris epempsen onar zeus mounos phlogoenti poleis ekperse kerauno, ommasi lampra dios kupris oista pherei. [a] when johnson had composed this greek epigram to mrs. elizabeth carter, he said, in a letter to cave, "i think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as louis le grand." his admiration of her learning was so great, that when he wished to praise the acquirements of any one excessively, he remarked that, he knew as much greek almost as mrs. carter. the verses in elizae aenigma are addressed to the same excellent and accomplished lady. it is now nearly an insult to add, that she translated epictetus, and contributed nos. and , to the rambler. see boswell, i. iii. and iv. and preface to rambler, ii.--ed. in elizae aenigma. quis formae modus imperio? venus arrogat audax omnia, nec curae sunt sua sceptra jovi. ab jove maeonides descendere somnia narrat: haec veniunt cypriae somnia missa deae. jupiter unus erat, qui stravit fulmine gentes; nunc armant veneris lumina tela jovis. [a]o! qui benignus crimina ignoscis, pater, facilisque semper confitenti ades reo, aurem faventem precibus o! praebe meis; scelerum catena me laborantem grave aeterna tandem liberet clementia, ut summa laus sit, summa christo gloria. per vitae tenebras rerumque incerta vagantem numine praesenti me tueare, pater! me ducat lux sancta, deus, lux sancta sequatur; usque regat gressus gratia fida meos. sic peragam tua jussa libens, accinctus ad omne mandatum vivam, sic moriarque tibi. me, pater omnipotens, de puro respice coelo, quem moestum et timidum crimina dira gravant; da veniam pacemque mihi, da, mente serena, ut tibi quae placeant, omnia promptus agam. solvi, quo christus cunctis delicta redemit, et pro me pretium, tu patiare, pater. [a] this and the three following articles are metrical versions of collects in the liturgy; the first, of that, beginning, "o god, whose nature and property"; the second and third of the collects for the seventeenth and twenty-first sundays after trinity; and the fourth, of the first collect in the communion service. [dec. , .][a] summe deus, cui caeca patent penetralia cordis; quem nulla anxietas, nulla cupido fugit; quem nil vafrities peccantum subdola celat; omnia qui spectans, omnia ubique regis; mentibus afflatu terrenas ejice sordes divino, sanctus regnet ut intus amor: eloquiumque potens linguis torpentious affer, ut tibi laus omni semper ab ore sonet: sanguine quo gentes, quo secula cuncta piavit, haec nobis christus promeruisse velit! [a] the day on which he received the sacrament for the last time; and eight days before his decease. psalmus cxvii. anni qua volucris ducitur orbita, patrem coelicolum perpetuo colunt quo vis sanguine cretae gentes undique carmine. patrem, cujus amor blandior in dies mortales miseros servat, alit, fovet, omnes undique gentes, sancto dicite carmine. [a]seu te saeva fames, levitas sive improba fecit, musca, meae comitem, participemque dapis, pone metum, rostrum fidens immitte culullo, nam licet, et toto prolue laeta mero. tu, quamcunque tibi velox indulserit annus, carpe diem; fugit, heu, non revocanda dies! quae nos blanda comes, quae nos perducat eodem, volvitur hora mihi, volvitur hora tibi! una quidem, sic fata volunt, tibi vivitur aestas, eheu, quid decies plus mihi sexta dedit! olim praeteritae numeranti tempora vitae, sexaginta annis non minor unus erit. [a] the above is a version of the song, "busy, curious, thirsty fly." [b]habeo, dedi quod alteri; habuique, quod dedi mihi; sed quod reliqui, perdidi. [b] these lines are a version of three sentences that are said, in the manuscript, to be "on the monument of john of doncaster;" and which are as follow: what i gave, that i have; what i spent, that i had; what i left, that i lost. [a]e waltoni piscatore perfecto excerptum. nunc, per gramina fusi, densa fronde salicti, dum defenditur imber, molles ducimus horas. hic, dum debita morti paulum vita moratur, nunc rescire priora, nunc instare futuris, nunc summi prece sancta patris numen adire est. quicquid quraeitur ultra, caeco ducit amore, vel spe ludit inani, luctus mox pariturum. [a] these lines are a translation of part of a song in the complete angler of isaac walton, written by john chalkhill, a friend of spenser, and a good poet in his time. they are but part of the last stanza, which, that the reader may have it entire, is here given at length: if the sun's excessive heat make our bodies swelter, to an osier hedge we get for a friendly shelter! where in a dike, perch or pike, roach or dace, we do chase, bleak or gudgeon, without grudging, we are still contented. or we sometimes pass an hour under a green willow, that defends us from a shower, making earth our pillow; where we may think and pray, before death stops our breath: other joys are but toys, and to be lamented. [a]quisquis iter tendis, vitreas qua lucidus undas speluncae late thamesis praetendit opacae; marmorea trepidant qua lentae in fornice guttae, crystallisque latex fractus scintillat acutis; gemmaque, luxuriae nondum famulata nitenti splendit, et incoquitur tectum sine fraude metallum; ingredere o! rerum pura cole mente parentem; auriferasque auri metuens scrutare cavernas. ingredere! egeriae sacrum en tibi panditur antrum! hic, in se totum, longe per opaca futuri temporis, henricum rapuit vis vivida mentis: hic pia vindamius traxit suspiria, in ipsa morte memor patriae; hic marmonti pectore prima coelestis fido caluerunt semina flammae. temnere opes, pretium sceleris, patriamque tueri fortis, ades; tibi, sponte, patet venerabile limen. [a] the above lines are a version of pope's verses on his own grotto, which begin, "thou, who shall stop where thames' translucent wave." graecortum epigrammatum versiones metricae. pag. . brodaei edit. bas. ann. . non argos pugilem, non me messana creavit; patria sparta mihi est, patria clara virum. arte valent isti, mihi robo revivere solo est, convenit ut natis, inclyta sparta, tuis. br. . quandoquidem passim nulla ratione feruntur, cuncta cinis, cuncta et ludicra, cuncta nihil. br. . pectore qui duro, crudos de vite racemos, venturi exsecuit vascula prima meri, labraque constrictus, semesos, jamque terendos sub pedibus, populo praetereunte, jacit. supplicium huic, quoniam crescentia gaudia laesit, det bacchus, dederat quale, lycurge, tibi. hae poterant uvae laeto convivia cantu mulcere, aut pectus triste levare malis. br. . fert humeris claudum validis per compita caecus, hic oculos socio commodat, ille pedes. br. . qui, mutare vias ausus terraeque marisque, trajecit montes nauta, fretumque pedes, xerxi, tercentum spartae mars obstitit acris militibus; terris sit pelagoque pudor! br. . sit tibi, calliope, parnassum, cura, tenenti, alter ut adsit homerus, adest etenim alter achilles. br. . ad musas venus haec: veneri parete, puellae, in vos ne missus spicula tendat amor. haec musae ad venerem: sic marti, diva, mineris, hue nunquam volitat debilis iste puer. br. . prospera sors nec te strepitoso turbine tollat, nec menti injiciat sordida cura jugum; nam vita incertis incerta impellitur auris, omnesque in partes tracta, retracta fluit; firma manet virtus; virtuti innitere, tutus per fluctus vitae sic tibi cursus erit. br. . hora bonis quasi nunc instet suprema fruaris, plura ut victurus secula, parce bonis: divitiis, utrinque cavens, qui tempore parcit, tempore divitiis utitur, ille sapit. br. . nunquam jugera messibus onusta, aut quos gyges cumulos habebat auri; quod vitae satis est, peto, macrine, mi, nequid nimis, est nimis probatum. br. . non opto aut precibus posco ditescere, paucis sit contenta mihi vita, dolore carens. br. recta ad pauperiem tendit, cui corpora cordi est multa alere, et multas aedificare domos. br. . tu neque dulce putes alienae accumbere mensae; nec probrosa avidae grata sit offa gulae; nec ficto fletu, fictis solvere cachinnis, arridens domino, collacrymansque tuo; laetior hand tecum, tecum neque tristior unquam, sed miliae ridens, atque dolens miliae. br. . nil non mortale est mortalibus; omne quod est hie praetereunt, aut hos praeterit omne bonum. br. . democrite, invisas homines majore cachinno; plus tibi ridendum secula nostra dabunt. heraclite, fluat lacrymarum crebrior imber; vita hominum nunc plus quod misereris habet. interea dubito; tecum me causa nec ulla ridere, aut tecum me lacrymare jubet. br. . elige iter vitae, ut possis: rixisque, dolisque, perstrepit omne forum; cura molesta domi est; rura labor lassat; mare mille pericula terrent; verte solum, fient causa timoris opes; paupertas misera est; multae, cum conjuge, lites tecta ineunt; coelebs omnia solus ages. proles aucta gravat, rapta orbat; caeca juventae est virtus; canities cauta vigore caret. ergo optent homines, aut nunquam in luminis oras venisse, aut visa luce repente mori. elige iter vitae, ut mavis: prudenua, lausque, permeat omne forum; vita quieta domi est; rus ornat natura; levat maris aspera lucrum, verte solum, donat plena crumena decus; pauperies latitat; cum conjuge, gaudia multa tecta ineunt; coelebs impediere minus; mulcet amor prolis, sopor est sine prole profundus; praecellit juvenis vi, pietate senex. nemo optet, nunquam venisse in luminis oras, aut periisse; scatet vita benigna bonis. br. . vita omnis scena est ludusque: aut ludere disce seria seponens, aut mala dura pati. br. . quae, sine morte, fuga est vitae, quam turba malorum non vitanda gravem, non toleranda facit? dulcia dat natura quidem, mare, sidera, terras, lunaque quas, et sol, itque reditque vias. terror inest aliis, moerorque, et siquid habebis, forte, boni, ultrices experiere vices. br. . terram adii nudus, de terra nudus abibo. quid labor efficiet? non, nisi nudus, ero. br. . natus eram lacrymans, lacrymans e luce recedo: sunt quibus a lacrymis vix vacat ulla dies. tale hominum genus est, infirmum, triste, misellum, quod mors in cineres solvit, et abdit humo. br. . quisquis adit lectos, elata uxore, secundos, naufragus iratas ille retentat aquas. br. . foelix ante alios nullius debitor aeris; hunc sequitur coelebs; tertius, orbe, venis. nee male res cessit, subito si funere sponsam, didatus magna dote, recondis humo. his sapiens lectis, epicurum quaerere frustra quales sint monades, qua fit inane, sinas. br. . optarit quicunque senex sibi longius aevum, dignus, qui multa in lustra senescat, erit. cum procul est, optat, cum venit, quisque senectam, incusat, semper spe meliora videt. br. . omnis vita nimis brevis est felicibus, una nox miseris longi temporis instar habet. br. . gratia ter grata est velox, sin forte moretur, gratia vix restat nomine digna suo. br. . seu prece poscatur, seu non, da, jupiter, omne, magne, bonum; omne malum, et poscentibus, abnue nobis. br. . me, cane vitato, canis excipit alter; eodem in me animo tellus gignit et unda feras, nec mirum; restat lepori conscendere coelum, sidereus tamen hie territat, ecce canis! br. . telluri arboribus ver frondens, sidera coelo, graeciae et urbs, urbi est ista propago, decus. br. . impia facta patrans, homines fortasse latebis, non poteris, meditans prava, latere deos. br. . antiope satyrum, danae aurum, europa juvencum, et cycnum fecit leda petita, jovem. br. . aevi sat novi quam sim brevis; astra tuenti, per certas; stabili lege, voluta vices, tangitur haud pedibus tellus: conviva deorum expleor ambrosiis, exhilarorque cibis. br. . quod nimium est sit ineptum, hinc, ut dixere priores, et melli nimio fellis amaror inest. br. . puppe gubernatrix sedisti, audacia, prima divitiis acuens aspera corda virum; sola rates struis infidas, et dulcis amorem lucri ulciscendum mox nece sola doces. aurea secla hominum, quorum spectandus ocellis e longinquo itidem pontus et orcus erat. br. . ditescis, credo, quid restat? quicquid habebis in tumulum tecum, morte jubente, trahes? divitias cumulas, pereuntes negligis horas; incrementa aevi non cumulare potes. br. . mater adulantum, prolesque, pecunia, curae, teque frui timer est, teque carere dolor. br. . me miserum sors omnis habet; florentibus annis, pauper eram, nummis diffluit area senis; queis uti poteram quondam, fortuna negavit, queis uti nequeo, nunc mihi praebet, opes. br. . mnemosyne, ut sappho, mellita voce, canentem audiit, irata est, ne nova musa foret. br. . cum tacet indoctus, sapientior esse videtur, et morbus tegitur, dum premit ora pudor. br. . nunc huic, nunc aliis cedens, cui farra menippus credit, achaemenidae nuper agellus eram. quod nulli proprium versat fortuna, putabat ille suum stolidus, nunc putat ille suum. br. . non fortuna sibi te gratum tollit in altum; at docet, exemplo, vis sibi quanta, tuo. br. . hic, aurum ut reperit, laqueum abjicit; alter ut aurum non reperit, nectit quem reperit, laqueum. br. . vive tuo ex ammo: vario rumore loquetur de te plebs audax, hic bene, et ille male. br. . vitae rosa brevis est; properans si carpere nolis, quaerenti obveniet mox sine flore rubus. br. . pulicibus morsus, restincta lampade, stultus exclamat: nunc me cernere desinitis. br. , mendotum pinxit diodorus, et exit imago, praeter menodotura, nullius absimilis. br. . haud lavit phido, haud tetigit, mihi febre calenti in mentem ut venit nominis, interii. br. . nycticorax cantat lethale; sed ipsa, canenti demophilo auscultans, nycticorax moritur. br. . hermem deorum nuncium, pennis levem, quo rege gaudent arcades, furem boum, hujus palestrae qui vigil custos stetit, clam nocte tollit aulus, et ridens ait: praestat magistro saepe discipulus suo. br. . qui jacet hic servus vixit: nunc, lumine cassus, dario magno non minus ille potest. br. . funus alexandri mentitur fama; fidesque si phoebo, victor nescit obire diem. br. . nauta, quis hoc jaceat, ne percontere, sepulchro, eveniat tantum mitior unda tibi! br. . cur opulentus eges? tua cuncta in foenore ponis: sic aliis dives, tu tibi pauper agis. br. . qui pascis barbam, si crescis mente, platoni, hirce, parem nitido te tua barba facit. br. . clarus ioannes, reginae affinis, ab alto sanguine anastasii; cuncta sepulta jacent: et pius, et recti cultor: non illa jacere dicam; stat virtus non subigenda neci. br. . cunctiparens tellus, salve, levis esto pusillo lysigeni, fuerat non gravis ille tibi. br. . naufragus hic jaceo; contra, jacet ecce colonus! idem orcus terras, sic, pelagoque subest. br. . quid salvere jubes me, pessime? corripe gressus; est mihi quod non te rideo, plena salus. br. . et ferus est timon sub terris; janitor orci, cerbere, te morsu ne petat ille, cave. br. . vitam a terdecimo sextus mihi finiet annus, astra mathematicos si modo vera docent. sufficit hoc votis, flos hic pulcherrimus aevi est, et senium triplex nestoris urna capit. br. . zosima, quae solo fuit olim corpore serva, corpore nunc etiam libera facta fuit. br. . exiguum en! priami monumentum; hand ille meretur quale, sed hostiles, quale dedere manus. br. . hector dat gladium ajaci, dat balteum et ajax hectori, et exitio munus utrique fuit. br. . ut vis, ponte minax, modo tres discesseris ulnas ingemina fluctus, ingeminaque sonum. br. . naufragus hic jaceo, fidens tamen utere velis; tutum aliis aequor, me pereunte, fuit. br. . heraclitus ego; indoctae ne laedite liuguae subtile ingenium, quaero, capaxque mei; unus homo mihi pro soxcentis, turba popelli pro nullo, clamo nunc tumulatus idem. br. . ambraciota, vale lux alma, cleombrotus infit, et saltu e muro ditis opaca petit: triste nihil passus, animi at de sorte platonis scripta legens, sola vivere mente cupit. br. . servus, epictetus, mutilato corpore, vixi, pauperieque irus, curaque summa deum. br. . unde hic praxiteles? nudam vidistis, adoni, et pari, et anchisa, non alius, venerem. br. . sufflato accendis quisquis carbone lucernam, corde meo accendens; ardeo totus ego. br. . jupiter hoc templum, ut, siquando relinquit olympum, atthide non alius desit olympus, habet. br. . civis et externus grati; domus hospita nescit quaerere, quis, cujus, quis pater, unde venis. pompeii. br. . cum fugere haud possit, fractis victoria pennis te manet, imperii, roma, perenne decus. br. . latrones, alibi locupletum quaerite tecta, assidet huic, custos, strenua pauperies. fortunae malim adversae tolerare procellas; quam domini ingentis ferre supercilium. en, sexto, sexti meditatur imago, silente; orator statua est, statuaeque orator imago. pulchra est virgiuitas intacta, at vita periret, omnes si vellent virginitate frui; nequitiam fugiens, servata contrahe lege conjugium, ut pro te des hominem patriae. fert humeris, venerabile onus, cythereius heros per trojae flammas, densaque tela, patrem: clamat et argivis, vetuli, ne tangite; vita exiguum est marti, sed mihi grande, lucrum. forma animos hominum capit, at, si gratia desit, non tenet; esca natat pulchra, sed hamus abest, cogitat aut loquitur nil vir, nil cogitat uxor, felici thalamo non, puto, rixa strepit. buccina disjecit thebarum moenia, struxit quae lyra, quam sibi non concinit harmonia! mente senes olim juvenis, faustine, premebas, nunc juvenum terres robore corda senex. laevum at utrumque decus, juveni quod praebuit olim turba senum, juvenes nunc tribuere seni. exceptae hospitio, musae tribuere libellos herodoto, hospitii praemia, quaeque suum. stella mea, observans stellas, dii me aethera faxint multis ut te oculis sim potis aspicere. clara cheroneae soboles, plutarche, dicavit hanc statuam ingenio, roma benigna, tuo. das bene collatos, quos roma et graecia jactat, ad divos, paribus passibus, ire duces; sed similem, plutarche, tuae describere vitam non poteras, regio non tulit ulla parem. dat tibi pythagoram pictor; quod ni ipse tacere pythagoras mallet, vocem habuisset opus. prolem hippi, et sua qua meliorem secula nullum videre, archidicen, haec tumulavit humus; quam, regum sobolem, nuptam, matrem, atque sororem fecerunt nulli sors titulique gravem. cecropidis gravis hic ponor, martique dicatus, quo tua signantur gesta, philippe, lapis. spreta jacet marathon, jacet et salaminia laurus, omnia dum macedum gloria et arma premunt. sint demosthenica ut jurata cadavera voce, stabo illis qui sunt, quique fuere, gravis. floribus in pratis, legi quos ipse, coronam contextam variis, do, rhodoclea, tibi: hic anemone humet, confert narcissus odores cum violis; spirant lilia mista rosis. his redimita comas, mores depone superbos, haec peritura nitent; tu peritura nites! murem asclepiades sub tecto ut vidit avarus, quid tibi, mus, mecum, dixit, amice, tibi? mus blandum ridens, respondit, pelle timorem: hic, bone vir, sedem, nori alimenta, peto. saepe tuum in tumulum lacrymarum decidit imber, quem fundit blando junctus amore dolor; charus enim cunctis, tanquam, dum vita manebat, cuique esses natus, cuique sodalis, eras. heu quam dura preces sprevit, quam surda querelas parca, juventutem non miserata tuam! arti ignis lucem tribui, tamen artis et ignis nunc ope, supplicii vivit imago mei. gratia nulla hominum mentes tenet, ista promethei munera muneribus, si retulere fabri. illa triumphatrix graium consueta procorum ante suas agmen lais habere fores, hoc veneri speculum; nolo me cernere qualis sum nunc, nec possum cernere qualis eram. crethida fabellas dulces garrire peritam prosequitur lacrymis filia moesta sami: blandam lanifici sociam sine fine loquacem, quam tenet hic, cunctas quae manet, alta quies. dicite, causidici, gelido nunc marmore magni mugitum tumulus comprimit amphiloci. si forsan tumulum quo conditur eumarus aufers, nil lucri facies; ossa habet et cinerem. epicteti. me, rex deorum, tuque, due, necessitas, quo, lege vestra, vita me feret mea. sequar libenter, sin reluctari velim, fiam scelestus, nec tamen minus sequar. e theocrito. poeta, lector, hic quiescit hipponax, si sis scelestus, praeteri, procul, marmor: at te bonum si noris, et bonis natum, tutum hic sedile, et si placet, sopor tutus. eur. med. -- . non immerito culpanda venit proavum vecors insipientia, qui convivia, lautasque dapes, hilarare suis jussere modis cantum, vitae dulce levamen. at nemo feras iras hominum domibus claris exitiales, voce aut fidibus pellere docuit; queis tamen aptam ferre medelam utile cunctis hoc opus esset; namque, ubi mensas onerant epulae, quorsum dulcis luxuria soni? sat laetitia sine subsidiis, pectora molli mulcet dubiae copia coenae. [greek:] tois araes brotoloighos enhi ptolemoisi memaene, kahi toios paphiaen plaesen eroti thean. the above is a version of a latin epigram on the famous john duke of marlborough, by the abbé salvini, which is as follows: haud alio vultu fremuit mars acer in armis: haud alio cypriam percutit ore deam. the duke was, it seems, remarkably handsome in his person, to which the second line has reference. septem aetates. prima parit terras aetas; siccatque secunda; evocat abramum dein tertia; quarta relinquit aegyptum; templo solomonis quinta supersit; cyrum sexta timet; laetatur septima christo. [a]his tempelmanni numeris descripseris orbem, [b]cum sex ceiituriis judaeo millia septem. myrias[c] aegypto cessit his septima pingui. myrias adsciscit sibi nonagesima septem imperium qua turca[d] ferox exercet iniquum. undecies binas decadas et millia septem sortitur[e] pelopis tellus quae nomine gaudet. myriadas decies septem numerare jubebit pastor arabs: decies octo sibi persa requirit. myriades sibi pulchra duas, duo millia poscit parthenope. [f]novies vult tellus mille sicana. [g]papa suo regit imperio ter millia quinque. cum sex centuriis numerat sex millia tuscus[h]. centuria ligures[i] augent duo millia quarta. centuriae octavam decadem addit lucca[j] secundae. ut dicas, spatiis quam latis imperet orbi [k]russia, myriadas ter denas adde trecentis. [l]sardiniam cum sexcentis sex millia complent. cum sexagenis, dum plura recluserit aetas, myriadas ter mille homini dat terra[m] colendas. vult sibi vicenas millesima myrias addi, vicenis quinas, asiam[n] metata celebrem. se quinquagenis octingentesima jungit myrias, ut menti pateat tota africa[o] doctae. myriadas septem decies europa[p] ducentis et quadragenis quoque ter tria millia jungit. myriadas denas dat, quinque et millia, sexque centurias, et tres decades europa britannis[q]. ter tria myriadi conjungit millia quartae, centuriae quartae decades quinque[r] anglia nectit. millia myriadi septem foecunda secundae et quadragenis decades quinque addit ierne[s]. quingentis quadragenis socialis adauget millia belga[t] novem. ter sex centurias hollandia jactat opima. undecimum camber vult septem millibus addi. [a] to the above lines, (which are unfinished, and can, therefore, be only offered as a fragment,) in the doctor's manuscript, are prefixed the words "geographia metrica." as we are referred, in the first of the verses, to templeman, for having furnished the numerical computations that are the subject of them, his work has been, accordingly, consulted, the title of which is, a new survey of the globe; and which professes to give an accurate mensuration of all the empires, kingdoms, and other divisions thereof, in the square miles that they respectively contain. on comparison of the several numbers in these verses, with those set down by templeman, it appears that nearly half of them are precisely the same; the rest are not quite so exactly done.--for the convenience of the reader, it has been thought right to subjoin each number, as it stands in templeman's works, to that in dr. johnson's verses which refers to it. [b] in this first article that is versified, there is an accurate conformity in dr. johnson's number to templeman's; who sets down the square miles of palestine at , . [c] the square miles of egypt are, in templeman, , . [d] the whole turkish empire, in templeman, is computed at , square miles. [e] in the four following articles, the numbers in templeman and in johnson's verses are alike.--we find, accordingly, the morea, in templeman, to be set down at , square miles.--arabia, at , .--persia, at , .--and naples, at , . [f] sicily, in templeman, is put down at , . [g] the pope's dominions, at , . [h] tuscany, at , . [i] genoa, in templeman, as in johnson likewise, is set down at , . [j] lucca, at . [k] the russian empire, in the th plate of templeman, is set down at , , square miles. [l] sardinia, in templeman, as likewise in johnson, , . [m] the habitable world, in templeman, is computed, in square miles, at , , square miles. [n] asia, at , , . [o] africa, at , , . [p] europe, at , , . [q] the british dominions, at , . [r] england, as likewise in johnson's expression of the number, at , . [s] ireland, at , . [t] in the three remaining instances, which make the whole that dr. johnson appears to have rendered into latin verse, we find the numbers exactly agreeing with those of templeman, who makes the square miles of the united provinces, --of the province of holland, --and of wales, . translation of dryden's epigram on milton. quos laudat vates, graecus, romanus, et anglus, tres tria temporibus secla dedere suis. sublime ingenium graecus; romanus habebat carmen grande sonans; anglus utrumque tulit. nil majus natura capit: clarare priores quae potuere duos tertius unus habet. epilogue to the carmen saeculare of horace; performed at freemasons' hall. quae fausta romae dixit horatius, haec fausta vobis dicimus, angliae opes, triumphos, et subacti imperium pelagi precantes. such strains as, mingled with the lyre, could rome with future greatness fire, ye sons of england, deign to hear, nor think our wishes less sincere. may ye the varied blessings share of plenteous peace and prosp'rous war; and o'er the globe extend your reign, unbounded masters of the main! translation of a welsh epitaph (in herbert's travels) on prince madock. inclytus hic haeres magni requiescit oeni, confessas tantum mente, manuque, patrem; servilem tuti cultum contempsit agelli, et petiit terras, per freta longa, novas. the history of rasselas, prince of abissinia. prefatory observations. the following incomparable tale was published in ; and the early familiarity with eastern manners, which johnson derived from his translation of father lobo's travels into abissinia, may be presumed to have led him to fix his opening scene in that country; while rassela christos, the general of sultan sequed, mentioned in that work, may have suggested the name of his speculative prince. rasselas was written in the evenings of a single week, and sent to the press, in portions, with the amiable view of defraying the funeral expenses of the author's aged mother, and discharging her few remaining debts. the sum, however, which he received for it, does not seem large, to those who know its subsequent popularity. none of his works has been more widely circulated; and the admiration, which it has attracted, in almost every country of europe, proves, that, with all its depression and sadness, it does utter a voice, that meets with an assenting answer in the hearts of all who have tried life, and found its emptiness. johnson's view of our lot on earth was always gloomy, and the circumstances, under which rasselas was composed, were calculated to add a deepened tinge of melancholy to its speculations on human folly, misery, or malignity. many of the subjects discussed, are known to have been those which had agitated johnson's mind. among them is the question, whether the departed ever revisit the places that knew them on earth, and how far they may take an interest in the welfare of those, over whom they watched, when here. we shall elsewhere have to contemplate the moralist, standing on the border of his mother's grave, and asking, with anxious agony, whether that dark bourn, once passed, terminated for ever the cares of maternity and love[a]. the frivolous and the proud, who think not, or acknowledge not, that there are secrets, in both matter and mind, of which their philosophy has not dreamed, may smile at what they may, in their derision, term such weak and idle inquiries. but on them, the most powerful minds that ever illuminated this world, have fastened, with an intense curiosity; and, owning their fears, or their ignorance, have not dared to disavow their belief[b]. it is not to be denied, that rasselas displays life, as one unvaried series of disappointments, and leaves the mind, at its close, in painful depression. this effect has been considered an evil, and regarded even as similar to that produced by the doctrines of voltaire, bolingbroke, and rousseau, who combined every thing venerable on earth with ridicule, treated virtue and vice, with equal contemptuous indifference, and laid bare, with cruel mockery, the vanity of all mortal wishes, prospects, and pursuits. their motive, for all this, we need not pause, in this place, to examine. but a distinction may be made between the melancholy of the heart, and the melancholy of the mind: while the latter is sceptical, sour, and misanthropic, the former is passionate, tender, and religious. those who are under the influence of the one, become inactive, morose, or heedless: detecting the follies of the wisest and the frailties of the best, they scoff at the very name of virtue; they spurn, as visionary and weak, every attempt to meliorate man's condition, and from their conviction of the earthward tendency of his mind, they bound his destinies by this narrow world and its concerns. but those whose hearts are penetrated with a feeling for human infirmity and sorrow, are benevolent and active; considering man, as the victim of sin, and woe, and death, for a cause which reason cannot unfold, but which religion promises to terminate, they sooth the short-lived disappointments of life, by pointing to a loftier and more lasting state. candide is the book of the one party, rasselas of the other. they appeared nearly together; they exhibit the same picture of change, and misery, and crime. but the one demoralized a continent, and gave birth to lust, and rapine, and bloodshed; the other has blessed many a heart, and gladdened the vale of sorrow, with many a rill of pure and living water. voltaire may be likened to the venomous toad of eastern allegory, which extracts a deadly poison from that sunbeam which bears health, and light, and life to all beside: the philosopher, in rasselas, like some holy and aged man, who has well nigh run his course, in recounting the toils and perils of his pilgrimage, may sadden the young heart, and crush the fond hopes of inexperience; but, while he wounds, he presents the antidote and the balm, and tells, where promises will be realized, and hopes will no more be disappointed. we have ventured to detain our readers thus long from rasselas itself, because, from its similar view of life with the sceptical school, many well-intentioned men have apprehended, its effects might be the same. we have, therefore, attempted briefly to distinguish the sources whence these different writings have issued, and, we trust, we have pointed out their remoteness from each other. and we do not dwell on the subject, at greater length, because johnson's writings, in various parts, will require our attention on this particular head. to be restless and weary of the dull details and incomplete enjoyments of life, is common to all lofty minds. frederick of prussia sought, in the bosom of a cold philosophy, to chill every generous impulse, and each warm aspiration after immortality; but he painfully felt, how inefficient was grandeur, or power, to fill the heart, and plaintively exclaimed to maupertuis, "que notre vie est peu de chose;" all is vanity. the philosophy of rasselas, however, though it pronounces on the unsatisfactory nature of all human enjoyments, and though its perusal may check the worldling in his mirth, and bring down the mighty in his pride, does not, with the philosophic conqueror, sullenly despair, but gently sooths the mourner, by the prospect of a final recompense and repose. its pages inculcate the same lesson, as those of the rambler, but "the precept, which is tedious in a formal essay, may acquire attractions in a tale, and the sober charms of truth be divested of their austerity by the graces of innocent fiction[c]." we may observe, in conclusion, that the abrupt termination of rasselas, so left, according to sir john hawkins, by its author, to admit of continuation, and its unbroken gloom, induced miss e. cornelia knight to present to the public a tale, entitled dinarbas, to exhibit the fairer view of life. footnotes [a] see idler, no. , and his letter to mr. elphinstone, on the death of his mother. [b] aristot. ethic. nich. lib. i. c. , . in barrow's sermon on the "the least credulous or fanciful of men." [c] see drake's speculator, , no. . the history of rasselas, prince of abissinia. chap. i. description of a palace in a valley. ye, who listen, with credulity, to the whispers of fancy, and pursue, with eagerness, the phantoms of hope; who expect, that age will perform the promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be supplied by the morrow; attend to the history of rasselas, prince of abissinia. rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty emperour, in whose dominions the father of waters begins his course; whose bounty pours down the streams of plenty, and scatters over half the world the harvests of egypt. according to the custom, which has descended, from age to age, among the monarchs of the torrid zone, rasselas was confined in a private palace, with the other sons and daughters of abissinian royalty, till the order of succession should call him to the throne. the place, which the wisdom, or policy, of antiquity had destined for the residence of the abissinan princes, was a spacious valley in the kingdom of amhara, surrounded, on every side, by mountains, of which the summits overhang the middle part. the only passage, by which it could be entered, was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which it has been long disputed, whether it was the work of nature, or of human industry. the outlet of the cavern was concealed by a thick wood, and the mouth, which opened into the valley, was closed with gates of iron, forged by the artificers of ancient days, so massy, that no man could, without the help of engines, open or shut them. from the mountains, on every side, rivulets descended, that filled all the valley with verdure and fertility, and formed a lake in the middle, inhabited by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl, whom nature has taught to dip the wing in water. this lake discharged its superfluities by a stream, which entered a dark cleft of the mountain, on the northern side, and fell, with dreadful noise, from precipice to precipice, till it was heard no more. the sides of the mountains were covered with trees; the banks of the brooks were diversified with flowers; every blast shook spices from the rocks; and every month dropped fruits upon the ground. all animals that bite the grass, or browse the shrub, whether wild or tame, wandered in this extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey, by the mountains which confined them. on one part, were flocks and herds feeding in the pastures; on another, all the beasts of chase frisking in the lawns; the sprightly kid was bounding on the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in the trees, and the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. all the diversities of the world were brought together, the blessings of nature were collected, and its evils extracted and excluded. the valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabitants with the necessaries of life; and all delights and superfluities were added, at the annual visit which the emperour paid his children, when the iron gate was opened to the sound of musick; and during eight days every one, that resided in the valley, was required to propose whatever might contribute to make seclusion pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention, and lessen the tediousness of time. every desire was immediately granted. all the artificers of pleasure were called to gladden the festivity; the musicians exerted the power of harmony, and the dancers showed their activity before the princes, in hope that they should pass their lives in this blissful captivity, to which those only were admitted, whose performance was thought able to add novelty to luxury. such was the appearance of security and delight, which this retirement afforded, that they, to whom it was new, always desired, that it might be perpetual; and, as those, on whom the iron gate had once closed, were never suffered to return, the effect of long experience could not be known. thus every year produced new schemes of delight, and new competitors for imprisonment. the palace stood on an eminence, raised about thirty paces above the surface of the lake. it was divided into many squares or courts, built with greater or less magnificence, according to the rank of those for whom they were designed. the roofs were turned into arches of massy stone, joined by a cement that grew harder by time, and the building stood, from century to century, deriding the solstitial rains and equinoctial hurricanes, without need of reparation. this house, which was so large, as to be fully known to none, but some ancient officers, who successively inherited the secrets of the place, was built, as if suspicion herself had dictated the plan. to every room there was an open and secret passage, every square had a communication with the rest, either from the upper stories, by private galleries, or, by subterranean passages, from the lower apartments. many of the columns had unsuspected cavities, in which a long race of monarchs had reposited their treasures. they then closed up the opening with marble, which was never to be removed, but in the utmost exigencies of the kingdom; and recorded their accumulations in a book, which was itself concealed in a tower not entered, but by the emperour, attended by the prince, who stood next in succession. chap. ii. the discontent op rasselas in the happy valley. here the sons and daughters of abissinia, lived only to know the soft vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, attended by all that were skilful to delight, and gratified with whatever the senses can enjoy. they wandered in gardens of fragrance, and slept in the fortresses of security. every art was practised, to make them pleased with their own condition. the sages, who instructed them, told them of nothing but the miseries of publick life, and described all beyond the mountains, as regions of calamity, where discord was always raging, and where man preyed upon man. to heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily entertained with songs, the subject of which was the happy valley. their appetites were excited, by frequent enumerations of different enjoyments, and revelry and merriment was the business of every hour, from the dawn of morning, to the close of even. these methods were, generally, successful; few of the princes had ever wished to enlarge their bounds, but passed their lives in full conviction, that they had all within their reach that art or nature could bestow, and pitied those, whom fate had excluded from this seat of tranquillity, as the sport of chance, and the slaves of misery. thus, they rose in the morning, and lay down at night, pleased with each other and with themselves, all but rasselas, who, in the twenty-sixth year of his age, began to withdraw himself from their pastimes and assemblies, and to delight in solitary walks, and silent meditation. he often sat before tables, covered with luxury, and forgot to taste the dainties that were placed before him: he rose abruptly in the midst of the song, and hastily retired beyond the sound of musick. his attendants observed the change, and endeavoured to renew his love of pleasure: he neglected their officiousness, repulsed their invitations, and spent day after day, on the banks of rivulets, sheltered with trees; where he sometimes listened to the birds in the branches, sometimes observed the fish playing in the stream, and anon cast his eyes upon the pastures and mountains filled with animals, of which some were biting the herbage, and some sleeping among the bushes. this singularity of his humour made him much observed. one of the sages, in whose conversation he had formerly delighted, followed him secretly, in hope of discovering the cause of his disquiet. rasselas, who knew not that any one was near him, having, for some time, fixed his eyes upon the goats that were browsing among the rocks, began to compare their condition with his own. "what," said he, "makes the difference between man and all the rest of the animal creation? every beast, that strays beside me, has the same corporal necessities with myself: he is hungry, and crops the grass, he is thirsty and drinks the stream, his thirst and hunger are appeased, he is satisfied and sleeps: he rises again and is hungry, he is again fed, and is at rest. i am hungry and thirsty, like him, but when thirst and hunger cease, i am not at rest; i am, like him, pained with want, but am not, like him, satisfied with fulness. the intermediate hours are tedious and gloomy; i long again to be hungry, that i may again quicken my attention. the birds peck the berries, or the corn, and fly away to the groves, where they sit, in seeming happiness, on the branches, and waste their lives in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. i, likewise, can call the lutanist and the singer, but the sounds, that pleased me yesterday, weary me to-day, and will grow yet more wearisome to-morrow. i can discover within me no power of perception, which is not glutted with its proper pleasure, yet i do not feel myself delighted. man surely has some latent sense, for which this place affords no gratification; or he has some desires, distinct from sense, which must be satisfied, before he can be happy." after this, he lifted up his head, and seeing the moon rising, walked towards the palace. as he passed through the fields, and saw the animals around him, "ye," said he, "are happy, and need not envy me, that walk thus among you, burdened with myself; nor do i, ye gentle beings, envy your felicity; for it is not the felicity of man. i have many distresses, from which ye are free; i fear pain, when i do not feel it; i sometimes shrink at evils recollected, and sometimes start at evils anticipated: surely the equity of providence has balanced peculiar sufferings with peculiar enjoyments." with observations like these, the prince amused himself, as he returned, uttering them with a plaintive voice, yet with a look, that discovered him to feel some complacence in his own perspicacity, and to receive some solace of the miseries of life, from consciousness of the delicacy with which he felt, and the eloquence with which he bewailed them. he mingled, cheerfully, in the diversions of the evening, and all rejoiced to find, that his heart was lightened. chap. iii. the wants of him that wants nothing. on the next day, his old instructor, imagining that he had now made himself acquainted with his disease of mind, was in hope of curing it by counsel, and officiously sought an opportunity of conference, which the prince, having long considered him, as one whose intellects were exhausted, was not very willing to afford: "why," said he, "does this man thus obtrude upon me? shall i be never suffered to forget those lectures, which pleased, only while they were new, and to become new again, must be forgotten?" he then walked into the wood, and composed himself to his usual meditations, when, before his thoughts had taken any settled form, he perceived his pursuer at his side, and was, at first, prompted, by his impatience, to go hastily away; but, being unwilling to offend a man, whom he had once reverenced, and still loved, he invited him to sit down with him on the bank. the old man, thus encouraged, began to lament the change, which had been lately observed in the prince, and to inquire, why he so often retired from the pleasures of the palace, to loneliness and silence. "i fly from pleasure," said the prince, "because pleasure has ceased to please; i am lonely, because i am miserable, and am unwilling to cloud, with my presence, the happiness of others." "you, sir," said the sage, "are the first who has complained of misery in the happy valley. i hope to convince you, that your complaints have no real cause. you are here in full possession of all that the emperour of abissinia can bestow; here is neither labour to be endured, nor danger to be dreaded, yet here is all that labour or danger can procure or purchase. look round, and tell me which of your wants is without supply: if you want nothing, how are you unhappy?" "that i want nothing," said the prince, "or that i know not what i want, is the cause of my complaint; if i had any known want, i should have a certain wish; that wish would excite endeavour, and i should not then repine to see the sun move so slowly towards the western mountain, or lament when the day breaks, and sleep will no longer hide me from myself. when i see the kids and the lambs chasing one another, i fancy, that. i should be happy, if i had something to pursue. but, possessing all that i can want, i find one day and one hour exactly like another, except that the latter is still more tedious than the former. let your experience inform me, how the day may now seem as short as in my childhood, while nature was yet fresh, and every moment showed me what i never had observed before. i have already enjoyed too much; give me something to desire." the old man was surprised at this new species of affliction, and knew not what to reply, yet was unwilling to be silent. "sir," said he, "if you had seen the miseries of the world, you would know how to value your present state." "now," said the prince, "you have given me something to desire; i shall long to see the miseries of the world, since the sight of them is necessary to happiness." chap. iv. the prince continues to grieve and muse. at this time the sound of musick proclaimed the hour of repast, and the conversation was concluded. the old man went away, sufficiently discontented, to find that his reasonings had produced the only conclusion which they were intended to prevent. but, in the decline of life, shame and grief are of short duration; whether it be, that we bear easily what we have borne long, or that, finding ourselves in age less regarded, we less regard others; or that we look with slight regard upon afflictions, to which we know that the hand of death is about to put an end. the prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, could not speedily quiet his emotions. he had been before terrified at the length of life which nature promised him, because he considered, that in a long time much must be endured; he now rejoiced in his youth, because in many years much might be done. this first beam of hope, that had been ever darted into his mind, rekindled youth in his cheeks, and doubled the lustre of his eyes. he was fired with the desire of doing something, though he knew not yet, with distinctness, either end or means. he was now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but, considering himself as master of a secret stock of happiness, which he could enjoy only by concealing it, he affected to be busy in all schemes of diversion, and endeavoured to make others pleased with the state, of which he himself was weary. but pleasures never can be so multiplied or continued, as not to leave much of life unemployed; there were many hours, both of the night and day, which he could spend, without suspicion, in solitary thought. the load of life was much lightened: he went eagerly into the assemblies, because he supposed the frequency of his presence necessary to the success of his purposes; he retired gladly to privacy, because he had now a subject of thought. his chief amusement was to picture to himself that world which he had never seen; to place himself in various conditions; to be entangled in imaginary difficulties, and to be engaged in wild adventures: but his benevolence always terminated his projects in the relief of distress, the detection of fraud, the defeat of oppression, and the diffusion of happiness. thus passed twenty months of the life of rasselas. he busied himself so intensely in visionary bustle, that he forgot his real solitude, and, amidst hourly preparations for the various incidents of human affairs, neglected to consider, by what means he should mingle with mankind. one day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to himself an orphan virgin, robbed of her little portion by a treacherous lover, and crying after him, for restitution and redress. so strongly was the image impressed upon his mind, that he started up in the maid's defence, and ran forward to seize the plunderer, with all the eagerness of real pursuit. fear naturally quickens the flight of guilt: rasselas could not catch the fugitive with his utmost efforts; but, resolving to weary, by perseverance, him whom he could not surpass in speed, he pressed on till the foot of the mountain stopped his course. here he recollected himself, and smiled at his own useless impetuosity. then, raising his eyes to the mountain, "this," said he, "is the fatal obstacle that hinders, at once, the enjoyment of pleasure, and the exercise of virtue. how long is it that my hopes and wishes have flown beyond this boundary of my life, which, yet, i never have attempted to surmount!" struck with this reflection, he sat down to muse; and remembered, that, since he first resolved to escape from his confinement, the sun had passed twice over him in his annual course. he now felt a degree of regret, with which he had never been before acquainted. he considered, how much might have been done in the time which had passed, and left nothing real behind it. he compared twenty months with the life of man. "in life," said he, "is not to be counted the ignorance of infancy, or imbecility of age. we are long, before we are able to think, and we soon cease from the power of acting. the true period of human existence may be reasonably estimated at forty years, of which i have mused away the four and twentieth part. what i have lost was certain, for i have certainly possessed it; but of twenty months to come, who can assure me?" the consciousness of his own folly pierced him deeply, and he was long before he could be reconciled to himself. "the rest of my time," said he, "has been lost, by the crime or folly of my ancestors, and the absurd institutions of my country; i remember it with disgust, yet without remorse: but the months that have passed, since new light darted into my soul, since i formed a scheme of reasonable felicity, have been squandered by my own fault. i have lost that which can never be restored: i have seen the sun rise and set for twenty months, an idle gazer on the light of heaven: in this time, the birds have left the nest of their mother, and committed themselves to the woods and to the skies: the kid has forsaken the teat, and learned, by degrees, to climb the rocks, in quest of independent sustenance. i only have made no advances, but am still helpless and ignorant. the moon, by more than twenty changes, admonished me of the flux of life; the stream, that rolled before my feet, upbraided my inactivity. i sat feasting on intellectual luxury, regardless alike of the examples of the earth, and the instructions of the planets. twenty months are passed; who shall restore them?" these sorrowful meditations fastened upon his mind; he passed four months, in resolving to lose no more time in idle resolves, and was awakened to more vigorous exertion, by hearing a maid, who had broken a porcelain cup, remark, that what cannot be repaired is not to be regretted. this was obvious; and rasselas reproached himself, that he had not discovered it, having not known, or not considered, how many useful hints are obtained by chance, and how often the mind, hurried by her own ardour to distant views, neglects the truths that lie open before her. he, for a few hours, regretted his regret, and from that time bent his whole mind upon the means of escaping from the valley of happiness. chap. v. the prince meditates his escape. he now found, that it would be very difficult to effect that which it was very easy to suppose effected. when he looked round about him, he saw himself confined by the bars of nature, which had never yet been broken, and by the gate, through which none, that once had passed it, were ever able to return. he was now impatient as an eagle in a grate. he passed week after week in clambering the mountains, to see if there was any aperture which the bushes might conceal, but found all the summits inaccessible by their prominence. the iron gate he despaired to open; for it was not only secured with all the power of art, but was always watched by successive sentinels, and was, by its position, exposed to the perpetual observation of all the inhabitants. he then examined the cavern through which the waters of the lake were discharged; and, looking down, at a time when the sun shone strongly upon its mouth, he discovered it to be full of broken rocks, which, though they permitted the stream to flow through many narrow passages, would stop any body of solid bulk. he returned discouraged and dejected; but, having now known the blessing of hope, resolved never to despair. in these fruitless searches he spent ten months. the time, however, passed cheerfully away: in the morning he rose with new hope, in the evening applauded his own diligence, and in the night slept sound after his fatigue. he met a thousand amusements, which beguiled his labour, and diversified his thoughts. he discerned the various instincts of animals, and properties of plants, and found the place replete with wonders, of which he purposed to solace himself with the contemplation, if he should never be able to accomplish his flight; rejoicing that his endeavours, though yet unsuccessful, had supplied him with a source of inexhaustible inquiry. but his original curiosity was not yet abated; he resolved to obtain some knowledge of the ways of men. his wish still continued, but his hope grew less. he ceased to survey any longer the walls of his prison, and spared to search, by new toils, for interstices which he knew could not be found; yet determined to keep his design always in view, and lay hold on any expedient that time should offer. chap. vi. a dissertation on the art of flying. among the artists that had been allured into the happy valley, to labour for the accommodation and pleasure of its inhabitants, was a man eminent for his knowledge of the mechanick powers, who had contrived many engines, both of use and recreation. by a wheel, which the stream turned, he forced the water into a tower, whence it was distributed to all the apartments of the palace. he erected a pavilion in the garden, around which he kept the air always cool by artificial showers. one of the groves, appropriated to the ladies, was ventilated by fans, to which the rivulet, that ran through it, gave a constant motion; and instruments of soft musick were placed at proper distances, of which some played by the impulse of the wind, and some by the power of the stream. this artist was, sometimes, visited by rasselas, who was pleased with every kind of knowledge, imagining that the time would come, when all his acquisitions should be of use to him in the open world. he came one day to amuse himself in his usual manner, and found the master busy in building a sailing chariot: he saw that the design was practicable upon a level surface, and, with expressions of great esteem, solicited its completion. the workman was pleased to find himself so much regarded by the prince, and resolved to gain yet higher honours. "sir," said he, "you have seen but a small part of what the mechanick sciences can perform. i have been long of opinion, that instead of the tardy conveyance of ships and chariots, man might use the swifter migration of wings; that the fields of air are open to knowledge, and that only ignorance and idleness need crawl upon the ground." this hint rekindled the prince's desire of passing the mountains: having seen what the mechanist had already performed, he was willing to fancy that he could do more; yet resolved to inquire further, before he suffered hope to afflict him by disappointment. "i am afraid," said he to the artist, "that your imagination prevails over your skill, and that you now tell me rather what you wish, than what you know. every animal has his element assigned him: the birds have the air, and man and beasts the earth."--"so," replied the mechanist, "fishes have the water, in which, yet, beasts can swim by nature, and men by art. he that can swim needs not despair to fly: to swim is to fly in a grosser fluid, and to fly is to swim in a subtler. we are only to proportion our power of resistance to the different density of matter through which we are to pass. you will be, necessarily, upborne by the air, if you can renew any impulse upon it, faster than the air can recede from the pressure." "but the exercise of swimming," said the prince, "is very laborious; the strongest limbs are soon wearied; i am afraid, the act of flying will be yet more violent, and wings will be of no great use, unless we can fly further than we can swim." "the labour of rising from the ground," said the artist, "will be great, as we see it in the heavier domestick fowls; but as we mount higher, the earth's attraction, and the body's gravity, will be gradually diminished, till we shall arrive at a region, where the man will float in the air without any tendency to fall; no care will then be necessary but to move forwards, which the gentlest impulse will effect. you, sir, whose curiosity is so extensive, will easily conceive with what pleasure a philosopher, furnished with wings, and hovering in the sky, would see the earth, and all its inhabitants, rolling beneath him, and presenting to him, successively, by its diurnal motion, all the countries within the same parallel. how must it amuse the pendent spectator to see the moving scene of land and ocean, cities and deserts! to survey, with equal security, the marts of trade, and the fields of battle; mountains infested by barbarians, and fruitful regions gladdened by plenty, and lulled by peace! how easily shall we then trace the nile through all its passage; pass over to distant regions, and examine the face of nature, from one extremity of the earth to the other!" "all this," said the prince, "is much to be desired; but i am afraid, that no man will be able to breathe in these regions of speculation and tranquillity. i have been told, that respiration is difficult upon lofty mountains, yet, from these precipices, though so high as to produce great tenuity of air, it is very easy to fall; therefore, i suspect, that from any height, where life can be supported, there may be danger of too quick descent." "nothing," replied the artist, "will ever be attempted, if all possible objections must be first overcome. if you will favour my project, i will try the first flight at my own hazard. i have considered the structure of all volant animals, and find the folding continuity of the bat's wings most easily accommodated to the human form. upon this model, i shall begin my task tomorrow, and in a year, expect to tower into the air beyond the malice and pursuit of man. but i will work only on this condition, that the art shall not be divulged, and that you shall not require me to make wings for any but ourselves." "why," said rasselas, "should you envy others so great an advantage? all skill ought to be exerted for universal good; every man has owed much to others, and ought to repay the kindness that he has received." "if men were all virtuous," returned the artist, "i should, with great alacrity, teach them all to fly. but what would be the security of the good, if the bad could, at pleasure, invade them from the sky? against an army sailing through the clouds, neither walls, nor mountains, nor seas, could afford any security. a flight of northern savages might hover in the wind, and light, at once, with irresistible violence, upon the capital of a fruitful region, that was rolling under them. even this valley, the retreat of princes, the abode of happiness, might be violated by the sudden descent of some of the naked nations, that swarm on the coast of the southern sea." the prince promised secrecy, and waited for the performance, not wholly hopeless of success. he visited the work, from time to time, observed its progress, and remarked many ingenious contrivances, to facilitate motion, and unite levity with strength. the artist was every day more certain, that he should leave vultures and eagles behind him, and the contagion of his confidence seized upon the prince. in a year the wings were finished, and, on a morning appointed, the maker appeared, furnished for flight, on a little promontory: he waved his pinions awhile, to gather air, then leaped from his stand, and, in an instant, dropped into the lake. his wings, which were of no use in the air, sustained him in the water, and the prince drew him to land, half dead with terrour and vexation.[a] [a] see rambler, no. , and note. chap. vii. the prince finds a man of learning. the prince was not much afflicted by this disaster, having suffered himself to hope for a happier event, only because he had no other means of escape in view. he still persisted in his design to leave the happy valley by the first opportunity. his imagination was now at a stand; he had no prospect of entering into the world; and, notwithstanding all his endeavours to support himself, discontent, by degrees, preyed upon him, and he began again to lose his thoughts in sadness, when the rainy season, which, in these countries, is periodical, made it inconvenient to wander in the woods. the rain continued longer, and with more violence, than had been ever known: the clouds broke on the surrounding mountains, and the torrents streamed into the plain on every side, till the cavern was too narrow to discharge the water. the lake overflowed its banks, and all the level of the valley was covered with the inundation. the eminence, on which the palace was built, and some other spots of rising ground, were all that the eye could now discover. the herds and flocks left the pastures, and both the wild beasts and the tame retreated to the mountains. this inundation confined all the princes to domestick amusements, and the attention of rasselas was particularly seized by a poem, which imlac rehearsed, upon the various conditions of humanity. he commanded the poet to attend him in his apartment, and recite his verses a second time; then entering into familiar talk, he thought himself happy in having found a man who knew the world so well, and could so skilfully paint the scenes of life. he asked a thousand questions about things, to which, though common to all other mortals, his confinement, from childhood, had kept him a stranger. the poet pitied his ignorance, and loved his curiosity, and entertained him, from day to day, with novelty and instruction, so that the prince regretted the necessity of sleep, and longed till the morning should renew his pleasure. as they were sitting together, the prince commanded imlac to relate his history, and to tell by what accident he was forced, or by what motive induced, to close his life in the happy valley. as he was going to begin his narrative, rasselas was called to a concert, and obliged to restrain his curiosity till the evening. chap. viii. the history of imlac. the close of the day is, in the regions of the torrid zone, the only season of diversion and entertainment, and it was, therefore, midnight before the musick ceased, and the princesses retired. rasselas then called for his companion, and required him to begin the story of his life. "sir," said imlac, "my history will not be long; the life, that is devoted to knowledge, passes silently away, and is very little diversified by events. to talk in publick, to think in solitude, to read and hear, to inquire, and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar. he wanders about the world without pomp or terrour, and is neither known nor valued but by men like himself. "i was born in the kingdom of goiama, at no great distance from the fountain of the nile. my father was a wealthy merchant, who traded between the inland countries of africk and the ports of the red sea. he was honest, frugal, and diligent, but of mean sentiments, and narrow comprehension; he desired only to be rich, and to conceal his riches, lest he should be spoiled by the governours of the province." "surely," said the prince, "my father must be negligent of his charge, if any man, in his dominions, dares take that which belongs to another. does he not know, that kings are accountable for injustice permitted, as well as done? if i were emperour, not the meanest of my subjects should be oppressed with impunity. my blood boils, when i am told that a merchant durst not enjoy his honest gains, for fear of losing them by the rapacity of power. name the governour, who robbed the people, that i may declare his crimes to the emperour." "sir," said imlac, "your ardour is the natural effect of virtue animated by youth: the time will come, when you will acquit your father, and, perhaps, hear with less impatience of the governour. oppression is, in the abissinian dominions, neither frequent nor tolerated; but no form of government has been yet discovered, by which cruelty can be wholly prevented. subordination supposes power on one part, and subjection on the other; and if power be in the hands of men, it will, sometimes, be abused. the vigilance of the supreme magistrate may do much, but much will still remain undone. he can never know all the crimes that are committed, and can seldom punish all that he knows." "this," said the prince, "i do not understand, but i had rather hear thee than dispute. continue thy narration." "my father," proceeded imlac, "originally intended that i should have no other education, than such as might qualify me for commerce; and, discovering in me great strength of memory, and quickness of apprehension, often declared his hope, that i should be, some time, the richest man in abissinia." "why," said the prince, "did thy father desire the increase of his wealth, when it was already greater than he durst discover or enjoy? i am unwilling to doubt thy veracity, yet inconsistencies cannot both be true." "inconsistencies," answered imlac, "cannot both be right, but, imputed to man, they may both be true. yet diversity is not inconsistency. my father might expect a time of greater security. however, some desire is necessary to keep life in motion, and he, whose real wants are supplied, must admit those of fancy." "this," said the prince, "i can, in some measure, conceive. i repent that i interrupted thee." "with this hope," proceeded imlac, "he sent me to school; but when i had once found the delight of knowledge, and felt the pleasure of intelligence and the pride of invention, i began, silently, to despise riches, and determined to disappoint the purpose of my father, whose grossness of conception raised my pity. i was twenty years old before his tenderness would expose me to the fatigue of travel, in which time i had been instructed, by successive masters, in all the literature of my native country. as every hour taught me something new, i lived in a continual course of gratifications; but, as i advanced towards manhood, i lost much of the reverence with which i had been used to look on my instructers; because, when the lesson was ended, i did not find them wiser or better than common men. "at length my father resolved to initiate me in commerce, and, opening one of his subterranean treasuries, counted out ten thousand pieces of gold. this, young man, said he, is the stock with which you must negotiate. i began with less than the fifth part, and you see how diligence and parsimony have increased it. this is your own, to waste or to improve. if you squander it by negligence or caprice, you must wait for my death, before you will be rich: if, in four years, you double your stock, we will thenceforward let subordination cease, and live together as friends and partners; for he shall always be equal with me, who is equally skilled in the art of growing rich. "we laid our money upon camels, concealed in bales of cheap goods, and travelled to the shore of the red sea. when i cast my eye on the expanse of waters, my heart bounded like that of a prisoner escaped. i felt an unextinguishable curiosity kindle in my mind, and resolved to snatch this opportunity of seeing the manners of other nations, and of learning sciences unknown in abissinia. "i remembered that my father had obliged me to the improvement of my stock, not by a promise, which i ought not to violate, but by a penalty, which i was at liberty to incur; and, therefore, determined to gratify my predominant desire, and, by drinking at the fountains of knowledge, to quench the thirst of curiosity. "as i was supposed to trade without connexion with my father, it was easy for me to become acquainted with the master of a ship, and procure a passage to some other country. i had no motives of choice to regulate my voyage; it was sufficient for me, that, wherever i wandered, i should see a country, which i had not seen before. i, therefore, entered a ship bound for surat, having left a letter for my father, declaring my intention. chap. ix. the history of imlac continued. "when i first entered upon the world of waters, and lost sight of land, i looked round about me with pleasing terrour, and, thinking my soul enlarged by the boundless prospect, imagined that i could gaze round for ever without satiety; but, in a short time, i grew weary of looking on barren uniformity, where i could only see again what i had already seen. i then descended into the ship, and doubted, for awhile, whether all my future pleasures would not end like this, in disgust and disappointment. yet, surely, said i, the ocean and the land are very different; the only variety of water is rest and motion, but the earth has mountains and valleys, deserts and cities; it is inhabited by men of different customs and contrary opinions; and i may hope to find variety in life, though i should miss it in nature. "with this thought i quieted my mind, and amused myself during the voyage, sometimes by learning from the sailors the art of navigation, which i have never practised, and sometimes by forming schemes for my conduct in different situations, in not one of which i have been ever placed. "i was almost weary of my naval amusements, when we landed safely at surat. i secured my money, and, purchasing some commodities for show, joined myself to a caravan that was passing into the inland country. my companions, for some reason or other, conjecturing that i was rich, and, by my inquiries and admiration, finding that i was ignorant, considered me as a novice, whom they had a right to cheat, and who was to learn, at the usual expense, the art of fraud. they exposed me to the theft of servants, and the exaction of officers, and saw me plundered, upon false pretences, without any advantage to themselves, but that of rejoicing in the superiority of their own knowledge." "stop a moment," said the prince. "is there such depravity in man, as that he should injure another, without benefit to himself? i can easily conceive, that all are pleased with superiority: but your ignorance was merely accidental, which, being neither your crime nor your folly, could afford them no reason to applaud themselves; and the knowledge which they had, and which you wanted, they might as effectually have shown by warning, as betraying you." "pride," said imlac, "is seldom delicate; it will please itself with very mean advantages; and envy feels not its own happiness, but when it may be compared with the misery of others. they were my enemies, because they grieved to think me rich; and my oppressors, because they delighted to find me weak." "proceed," said the prince: "i do not doubt of the facts which you relate, but imagine that you impute them to mistaken motives." "in this company," said imlac, "i arrived at agra, the capital of indostan, the city in which the great mogul commonly resides. i applied myself to the language of the country, and, in a few months, was able to converse with the learned men; some of whom i found morose and reserved, and others easy and communicative; some were unwilling to teach another what they had, with difficulty, learned themselves; and some showed, that the end of their studies was to gain the dignity of instructing. "to the tutor of the young princes i recommended myself so much, that i was presented to the emperour as a man of uncommon knowledge. the emperour asked me many questions concerning my country and my travels; and though i cannot now recollect any thing that he uttered above the power of a common man, he dismissed me astonished at his wisdom, and enamoured of his goodness. "my credit was now so high, that the merchants, with whom i had travelled, applied to me for recommendations to the ladies of the court. i was surprised at their confidence of solicitation, and gently reproached them with their practices on the road. they heard me with cold indifference, and showed no tokens of shame or sorrow. "they then urged their request with the offer of a bribe; but what i would not do for kindness, i would not do for money; and refused them, not because they had injured me, but because i would not enable them to injure others; for i knew they would have made use of my credit to cheat those who should buy their wares. "having resided at agra till there was no more to be learned, i travelled into persia, where i saw many remains of ancient magnificence, and observed many new accommodations of life. the persians are a nation eminently social, and their assemblies afforded me daily opportunities of remarking characters and manners, and of tracing human nature through all its variations. "from persia i passed into arabia, where i saw a nation at once pastoral and warlike; who live without any settled habitation; whose only wealth is their flocks and herds; and who have yet carried on, through all ages, an hereditary war with all mankind, though they neither covet nor envy their possessions." chap. x. imlac's history continued. a dissertation upon poetry. "wherever i went, i found that poetry was considered as the highest learning, and regarded with a veneration, somewhat approaching to that which man would pay to the angelick nature. and yet it fills me with wonder, that, in almost all countries, the most ancient poets are considered as the best: whether it be that every other kind of knowledge is an acquisition gradually attained, and poetry is a gift conferred at once; or that the first poetry of every nation surprised them as a novelty, and retained the credit by consent, which it received by accident at first: or whether, as the province of poetry is to describe nature and passion, which are always the same, the first writers took possession of the most striking objects for description, and the most probable occurrences for fiction, and left nothing to those that followed them, but transcription of the same events, and new combinations of the same images. whatever be the reason, it is commonly observed, that the early writers are in possession of nature, and their followers of art: that the first excel in strength and invention, and the latter in elegance and refinement. "i was desirous to add my name to this illustrious fraternity. i read all the poets of persia and arabia, and was able to repeat, by memory, the volumes that are suspended in the mosque of mecca. but i soon found, that no man was ever great by imitation. my desire of excellence impelled me to transfer my attention to nature and to life. nature was to be my subject, and men to be my auditors: i could never describe what i had not seen; i could not hope to move those with delight or terrour, whose interest and opinions i did not understand. "being now resolved to be a poet, i saw every thing with a new purpose; my sphere of attention was suddenly magnified: no kind of knowledge was to be overlooked. i ranged mountains and deserts for images and resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest and flower of the valley. i observed, with equal care, the crags of the rock and the pinnacles of the palace. sometimes i wandered along the mazes of the rivulet, and sometimes watched the changes of the summer clouds. to a poet, nothing can be useless. whatever is beautiful, and whatever is dreadful, must be familiar to his imagination: he must be conversant with all that is awfully vast, or elegantly little. the plants of the garden, the animals of the wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors of the sky, must all concur to store his mind with inexhaustible variety; for every idea is useful for the enforcement or decoration of moral or religious truth; and he, who knows most, will have most power of diversifying his scenes, and of gratifying his reader with remote allusions and unexpected instruction. "all the appearances of nature i was, therefore, careful to study, and every country, which i have surveyed, has contributed something to my poetical powers." "in so wide a survey," said the prince, "you must surely have left much unobserved. i have lived till now, within the circuit of these mountains, and yet cannot walk abroad without the sight of something, which i had never beheld before, or never heeded." "the business of a poet," said imlac, "is to examine, not the individual, but the species; to remark general properties and large appearances: he does not number the streaks of the tulip, or describe the different shades in the verdure of the forest. he is to exhibit, in his portraits of nature, such prominent and striking features, as recall the original to every mind; and must neglect the minuter discriminations, which one may have remarked, and another have neglected, for those characteristicks which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness. "but the knowledge of nature is only half the task of a poet; he must be acquainted, likewise, with all the modes of life. his character requires, that he estimate the happiness and misery of every condition; observe the power of all the passions in all their combinations, and trace the changes of the human mind, as they are modified by various institutions, and accidental influences of climate or custom, from the sprightliness of infancy to the despondence of decrepitude. he must divest himself of the prejudices of his age or country; he must consider right and wrong in their abstracted and invariable state; he must disregard present laws and opinions, and rise to general and transcendental truths, which will always be the same; he must, therefore, content himself with the slow progress of his name; contemn the applause of his own time, and commit his claims to the justice of posterity. he must write, as the interpreter of nature, and the legislator of mankind, and consider himself, as presiding over the thoughts and manners of future generations; as a being superiour to time and place. "his labour is not yet at an end: he must know many languages and many sciences; and, that his style may be worthy of his thoughts, must, by incessant practice, familiarize to himself every delicacy of speech and grace of harmony." chap. xi. imlac's narrative continued. a hint on pilgrimage. imlac now felt the enthusiastick fit, and was proceeding to aggrandize his own profession, when the prince cried out: "enough! thou hast convinced me, that no human being can ever be a poet. proceed with thy narration." "to be a poet," said imlac, "is, indeed, very difficult." "so difficult," returned the prince, "that i will, at present, hear no more of his labours. tell me whither you went, when you had seen persia." "from persia," said the poet, "i travelled through syria, and for three years resided in palestine, where i conversed with great numbers of the northern and western nations of europe; the nations which are now in possession of all power and all knowledge; whose armies are irresistible, and whose fleets command the remotest parts of the globe. when i compared these men with the natives of our own kingdom, and those that surround us, they appeared almost another order of beings. in their countries it is difficult to wish for any thing that may not be obtained: a thousand arts, of which we never heard, are continually labouring for their convenience and pleasure; and whatever their own climate has denied them is supplied by their commerce." "by what means," said the prince, "are the europeans thus powerful, or why, since they can so easily visit asia and africa, for trade or conquest, cannot the asiaticks and africans invade their coasts, plant colonies in their ports, and give laws to their natural princes? the same wind that carries them back would bring us thither." "they are more powerful, sir, than we," answered imlac, "because they are wiser; knowledge will always predominate over ignorance, as man governs the other animals. but why their knowledge is more than ours, i know not what reason can be given, but the unsearchable will of the supreme being." "when," said the prince, with a sigh, "shall i be able to visit palestine, and mingle with this mighty confluence of nations? till that happy moment shall arrive, let me fill up the time with such representations as thou canst give me. i am not ignorant of the motive that assembles such numbers in that place, and cannot but consider it as the centre of wisdom and piety, to which the best and wisest men of every land must be continually resorting." "there are some nations," said imlac, "that send few visitants to palestine; for many numerous and learned sects in europe concur to censure pilgrimage, as superstitious, or deride it as ridiculous." "you know," said the prince, "how little my life has made me acquainted with diversity of opinions; it will be too long to hear the arguments on both sides; you, that have considered them, tell me the result." "pilgrimage," said imlac, "like many other acts of piety, may be reasonable or superstitious, according to the principles upon which it is performed. long journeys, in search of truth, are not commanded. truth, such as is necessary to the regulation of life, is always found where it is honestly sought. change of place is no natural cause of the increase of piety, for it inevitably produces dissipation of mind. yet, since men go every day to view the fields where great actions have been performed, and return with stronger impressions of the event, curiosity of the same kind may naturally dispose us to view that country whence our religion had its beginning; and, i believe, no man surveys those awful scenes without some confirmation of holy resolutions. that the supreme being may be more easily propitiated in one place than in another, is the dream of idle superstition; but that some places may operate upon our own minds in an uncommon manner, is an opinion which hourly experience will justify[a]. he who supposes that his vices may be more successfully combated in palestine, will, perhaps, find himself mistaken, yet he may go thither without folly; he who thinks they will be more freely pardoned, dishonours, at once, his reason and religion." "these," said the prince, "are european distinctions. i will consider them another time. what have you found to be the effect of knowledge? are those nations happier than we?" "there is so much infelicity," said the poet, "in the world, that scarce any man has leisure, from his own distresses, to estimate the comparative happiness of others. knowledge is certainly one of the means of pleasure, as is confessed by the natural desire which every mind feels of increasing its ideas. ignorance is mere privation, by which nothing can be produced; it is a vacuity, in which the soul sits motionless and torpid, for want of attraction; and, without knowing why, we always rejoice when we learn, and grieve when we forget. i am, therefore, inclined to conclude, that, if nothing counteracts the natural consequence of learning, we grow more happy, as our minds take a wider range. "in enumerating the particular comforts of life, we shall find many advantages on the side of the europeans. they cure wounds and diseases, with which we languish and perish. we suffer inclemencies of weather, which they can obviate. they have engines for the despatch of many laborious works, which we must perform by manual industry. there is such communication between distant places, that one friend can hardly be said to be absent from another. their policy removes all publick inconveniencies: they have roads cut through their mountains, and bridges laid upon their rivers. and, if we descend to the privacies of life, their habitations are more commodious, and their possessions are more secure." "they are surely happy," said the prince, "who have all these conveniencies, of which i envy none so much as the facility with which separated friends interchange their thoughts." "the europeans," answered imlac, "are less unhappy than we, but they are not happy. human life is everywhere a state, in which much is to be endured, and little to be enjoyed." [a] see idler, no. , and note: and read, in dr. clarke's travels, the effect produced on his mind by the distant prospect of the holy city, and by the habitual reverence of his guides. the passage exemplifies the sublime in narrative. see his travels in greece, egypt, and the holy land, part ii. sect. i. vo. ed. vol. iv. p. .--ed. chap. xii. the story of imlac continued. "i am not yet willing," said the prince, "to suppose, that happiness is so parsimoniously distributed to mortals; nor can believe but that, if i had the choice of life, i should be able to fill every day with pleasure. i would injure no man, and should provoke no resentment: i would relieve every distress, and should enjoy the benedictions of gratitude. i would choose my friends among the wise, and my wife among the virtuous; and, therefore, should be in no danger from treachery or unkindness. my children should, by my care, be learned and pious, and would repay to my age what their childhood had received. what would dare to molest him, who might call, on every side, to thousands enriched by his bounty, or assisted by his power? and why should not life glide quietly away in the soft reciprocation of protection and reverence? all this may be done without the help of european refinements, which appear, by their effects, to be rather specious than useful. let us leave them, and pursue our journey." "from palestine," said imlac, "i passed through many regions of asia; in the more civilized kingdoms, as a trader, and among the barbarians of the mountains, as a pilgrim. at last, i began to long for my native country, that i might repose, after my travels and fatigues, in the places where i had spent my earliest years, and gladden my old companions, with the recital of my adventures. often did i figure to myself those with whom i had sported away the gay hours of dawning life, sitting round me in its evening, wondering at my tales, and listening to my counsels. "when this thought had taken possession of my mind, i considered every moment as wasted, which did not bring me nearer to abissinia. i hastened into egypt, and, notwithstanding my impatience, was detained ten months in the contemplation of its ancient magnificence, and in inquiries after the remains of its ancient learning. i found in cairo a mixture of all nations; some brought thither by the love of knowledge, some by the hope of gain, and many by the desire of living, after their own manner, without observation, and of lying hid in the obscurity of multitudes: for in a city, populous as cairo, it is possible to obtain, at the same time, the gratifications of society, and the secrecy of solitude. "from cairo i travelled to suez, and embarked on the red sea, passing along the coast, till i arrived at the port from which i had departed twenty years before. here i joined myself to a caravan, and reentered my native country. "i now expected the caresses of my kinsmen, and the congratulations of my friends, and was not without hope that my father, whatever value he had set upon riches, would own, with gladness and pride, a son, who was able to add to the felicity and honour of the nation. but i was soon convinced that my thoughts were vain. my father had been dead fourteen years, having divided his wealth among my brothers, who were removed to some other provinces. of my companions, the greater part was in the grave; of the rest, some could, with difficulty, remember me, and some considered me, as one corrupted by foreign manners. "a man, used to vicissitudes, is not easily dejected. i forgot, after a time, my disappointment, and endeavoured to recommend myself to the nobles of the kingdom; they admitted me to their tables, heard my story, and dismissed me. i opened a school, and was prohibited to teach. i then resolved to sit down in the quiet of domestick life, and addressed a lady that was fond of my conversation, but rejected my suit, because my father was a merchant. "wearied, at last, with solicitation and repulses, i resolved to hide myself for ever from the world, and depend no longer on the opinion or caprice of others. i waited for the time, when the gate of the happy valley should open, that i might bid farewell to hope and fear: the day came; my performance was distinguished with favour, and i resigned myself with joy to perpetual confinement." "hast thou here found happiness at last?" said rasselas. "tell me, without reserve; art thou content with thy condition? or, dost thou wish to be again wandering and inquiring? all the inhabitants of this valley celebrate their lot, and, at the annual visit of the emperour, invite others to partake of their felicity." "great prince," said imlac, "i shall speak the truth; i know not one of all your attendants who does not lament the hour when he entered this retreat. i am less unhappy than the rest, because i have a mind replete with images, which i can vary and combine at pleasure. i can amuse my solitude by the renovation of the knowledge which begins to fade from my memory, and by recollection of the accidents of my past life. yet all this ends in the sorrowful consideration, that my acquirements are now useless, and that none of my pleasures can be again enjoyed. the rest, whose minds have no impression but of the present moment, are either corroded by malignant passions, or sit stupid in the gloom of perpetual vacancy." "what passions can infest those," said the prince, "who have no rivals? we are in a place where impotence precludes malice, and where all envy is repressed by community of enjoyments." "there may be community," said imlac, "of material possessions, but there can never be community of love or of esteem. it must happen, that one will please more than another; he that knows himself despised will always be envious; and still more envious and malevolent, if he is condemned to live in the presence of those who despise him. the invitations, by which they allure others to a state which they feel to be wretched, proceed from the natural malignity of hopeless misery. they are weary of themselves, and of each other, and expect to find relief in new companions. they envy the liberty which their folly has forfeited, and would gladly see all mankind imprisoned like themselves. "from this crime, however, i am wholly free. no man can say that he is wretched by my persuasion. i look with pity on the crowds who are annually soliciting admission to captivity, and wish that it were lawful for me to warn them of their danger." "my dear imlac," said the prince, "i will open to thee my whole heart. i have long meditated an escape from the happy valley. i have examined the mountains on every side, but find myself insuperably barred: teach me the way to break my prison; thou shalt be the companion of my flight, the guide of my rambles, the partner of my fortune, and my sole director in the choice of life." "sir," answered the poet, "your escape will be difficult, and, perhaps, you may soon repent your curiosity. the world, which you figure to yourself smooth and quiet as the lake in the valley, you will find a sea foaming with tempests, and boiling with whirlpools; you will be sometimes overwhelmed by the waves of violence, and sometimes dashed against the rocks of treachery. amidst wrongs and frauds, competitions and anxieties, you will wish, a thousand times, for these seats of quiet, and willingly quit hope to be free from fear." "do not seek to deter me from my purpose," said the prince: "i am impatient to see what thou hast seen; and, since thou art thyself weary of the valley, it is evident that thy former state was better than this. whatever be the consequence of my experiment, i am resolved to judge, with mine own eyes, of the various conditions of men, and then to make, deliberately, my choice of life. "i am afraid," said imlac, "you are hindered by stronger restraints than my persuasions; yet, if your determination is fixed, i do not counsel you to despair. few things are impossible to diligence and skill." chap. xiii. rasselas discovers the means of escape. the prince now dismissed his favourite to rest, but the narrative of wonders and novelties filled his mind with perturbation. he revolved all that he had heard, and prepared innumerable questions for the morning. much of his uneasiness was now removed. he had a friend to whom he could impart his thoughts, and whose experience could assist him in his designs. his heart was no longer condemned to swell with silent vexation. he thought that even the happy valley might be endured, with such a companion, and that, if they could range the world together, he should have nothing further to desire. in a few days the water was discharged, and the ground dried. the prince and imlac then walked out together, to converse, without the notice of the rest. the prince, whose thoughts were always on the wing, as he passed by the gate, said, with a countenance of sorrow, "why art thou so strong, and why is man so weak?" "man is not weak," answered his companion; "knowledge is more than equivalent to force. the master of mechanicks laughs at strength. i can burst the gate, but cannot do it secretly. some other expedient must be tried." as they were walking on the side of the mountain, they observed that the conies, which the rain had driven from their burrows, had taken shelter among the bushes, and formed holes behind them, tending upwards, in an oblique line. "it has been the opinion of antiquity," said imlac, "that human reason borrowed many arts from the instinct of animals; let us, therefore, not think ourselves degraded by learning from the cony. we may escape, by piercing the mountain in the same direction. we will begin, where the summit hangs over the middle part, and labour upwards, till we shall issue up beyond the prominence." the eyes of the prince, when he heard this proposal, sparkled with joy. the execution was easy, and the success certain. no time was now lost. they hastened, early in the morning, to choose a place proper for their mine. they clambered, with great fatigue, among crags and brambles, and returned without having discovered any part that favoured their design. the second and the third day were spent in the same manner, and with the same frustration. but, on the fourth, they found a small cavern, concealed by a thicket, where they resolved to make their experiment. imlac procured instruments proper to hew stone and remove earth, and they fell to their work on the next day with more eagerness than vigour. they were presently exhausted by their efforts, and sat down to pant upon the grass. the prince, for a moment, appeared to be discouraged. "sir," said his companion, "practice will enable us to continue our labour for a longer time; mark, however, how far we have advanced, and you will find, that our toil will sometime have an end. great works are performed, not by strength, but perseverance: yonder palace was raised by single stones, yet you see its height and spaciousness. he that shall walk with vigour three hours a day, will pass, in seven years, a space equal to the circumference of the globe." they returned to their work day after day, and, in a short time, found a fissure in the rock, which enabled them to pass far with very little obstruction. this rasselas considered as a good omen. "do not disturb your mind," said imlac, "with other hopes or fears than reason may suggest; if you are pleased with prognosticks of good, you will be terrified, likewise, with tokens of evil, and your whole life will be a prey to superstition. whatever facilitates our work is more than an omen, it is a cause of success. this is one of those pleasing surprises which often happen to active resolution. many tilings, difficult to design, prove easy to performance." chap. xiv. rasselas and imlac receive an unexpected visit. they had now wrought their way to the middle, and solaced their toil with the approach of liberty, when the prince, coming down to refresh himself with air, found his sister nekayah, standing before the mouth of the cavity. he started, and stood confused, afraid to tell his design, yet hopeless to conceal it. a few moments determined him to repose on her fidelity, and secure her secrecy by a declaration without reserve. "do not imagine," said the princess, "that i came hither, as a spy: i had long observed, from my window, that you and imlac directed your walk every day towards the same point, but i did not suppose you had any better reason for the preference than a cooler shade, or more fragrant bank; nor followed you with any other design than to partake of your conversation. since, then, not suspicion, but fondness, has detected you, let me not lose the advantage of my discovery. i am equally weary of confinement with yourself, and not less desirous of knowing what is done or suffered in the world. permit me to fly with you from this tasteless tranquillity, which will yet grow more loathsome when you have left me. you may deny me to accompany you, but cannot hinder me from following." the prince, who loved nekayah, above his other sisters, had no inclination to refuse her request, and grieved, that he had lost an opportunity of showing his confidence by a voluntary communication. it was, therefore, agreed, that she should leave the valley with them; and that, in the mean time, she should watch, lest any other straggler should, by chance or curiosity, follow them to the mountain. at length their labour was at an end; they saw light beyond the prominence, and, issuing to the top of the mountain, beheld the nile, yet a narrow current, wandering beneath them. the prince looked round with rapture, anticipated all the pleasures of travel, and, in thought, was already transported beyond his father's dominions. imlac, though very joyful at his escape, had less expectation of pleasure in the world, which he had before tried, and of which he had been weary. rasselas was so much delighted with a wider horizon, that he could not soon be persuaded to return into the valley. he informed his sister, that the way was open, and that nothing now remained but to prepare for their departure. chap. xv. the prince and princess leave the valley, and see many wonders. the prince and princess had jewels sufficient to make them rich, whenever they came into a place of commerce, which, by imlac's direction, they hid in their clothes, and, on the night of the next full moon, all left the valley. the princess was followed only by a single favourite, who did not know whither she was going. they clambered through the cavity, and began to go down on the other side. the princess and her maid turned their eyes towards every part, and, seeing nothing to bound their prospect, considered themselves, as in danger of being lost in a dreary vacuity. they stopped and trembled. "i am almost afraid," said the princess, "to begin a journey, of which i cannot perceive an end, and to venture into this immense plain, where i may be approached, on every side, by men whom i never saw." the prince felt nearly the same emotions, though he thought it more manly to conceal them. imlac smiled at their terrours, and encouraged them to proceed; but the princess continued irresolute, till she had been, imperceptibly, drawn forward too far to return. in the morning they found some shepherds in the field, who set milk and fruits before them. the princess wondered, that she did not see a palace ready for her reception, and a table spread with delicacies; but, being faint and hungry, she drank the milk, and eat the fruits, and thought them of a higher flavour than the produce of the valley. they travelled forward by easy journeys, being all unaccustomed to toil or difficulty, and knowing that, though they might be missed, they could not be pursued. in a few days they came into a more populous region, where imlac was diverted with the admiration, which his companions expressed at the diversity of manners, stations, and employments. their dress was such, as might not bring upon them the suspicion of having any thing to conceal; yet the prince, wherever he came, expected to be obeyed; and the princess was frightened, because those that came into her presence did not prostrate themselves before her. imlac was forced to observe them with great vigilance, lest they should betray their rank by their unusual behaviour, and detained them several weeks in the first village, to accustom them to the sight of common mortals. by degrees, the royal wanderers were taught to understand that they had, for a time, laid aside their dignity, and were to expect only such regard, as liberality and courtesy could procure. and imlac having, by many admonitions, prepared them to endure the tumults of a port, and the ruggedness of the commercial race, brought them down to the seacoast. the prince and his sister, to whom every thing was new, were gratified equally at all places, and, therefore, remained, for some months, at the port, without any inclination to pass further. imlac was content with their stay, because he did not think it safe to expose them, unpractised in the world, to the hazards of a foreign country. at last he began to fear, lest they should be discovered, and proposed to fix a day for their departure. they had no pretensions to judge for themselves, and referred the whole scheme to his direction. he, therefore, took passage in a ship to suez; and, when the time came, with great difficulty, prevailed on the princess to enter the vessel. they had a quick and prosperous voyage, and from suez travelled by land to cairo. chap. xvi. they enter cairo, and find every man happy. as they approached the city, which filled the strangers with astonishment, "this," said imlac to the prince, "is the place where travellers and merchants assemble from all the corners of the earth. you will here find men of every character, and every occupation. commerce is here honourable: i will act as a merchant, and you shall live as strangers, who have no other end of travel than curiosity; it will soon be observed that we are rich; our reputation will procure us access to all whom we shall desire to know; you will see all the conditions of humanity, and enable yourself, at leisure, to make your choice of life." they now entered the town, stunned by the noise, and offended by the crowds. instruction had not yet so prevailed over habit, but that they wondered to see themselves pass, undistinguished, along the street, and met, by the lowest of the people, without reverence or notice. the princess could not, at first, bear the thought of being levelled with the vulgar, and, for some days, continued in her chamber, where she was served by her favourite, pekuah, as in the palace of the valley. imlac, who understood traffick, sold part of the jewels the next day, and hired a house, which he adorned with such magnificence, that he was immediately considered as a merchant of great wealth. his politeness attracted many acquaintance, and his generosity made him courted by many dependants. his table was crowded by men of every nation, who all admired his knowledge, and solicited his favour. his companions, not being able to mix in the conversation, could make no discovery of their ignorance or surprise, and were gradually initiated in the world, as they gained knowledge of the language. the prince had, by frequent lectures, been taught the use and nature of money; but the ladies could not, for a long time, comprehend what the merchants did with small pieces of gold and silver, or why things of so little use should be received as equivalent to the necessaries of life. they studied the language two years, while imlac was preparing to set before them the various ranks and conditions of mankind. he grew acquainted with all who had any thing uncommon in their fortune or conduct. he frequented the voluptuous and the frugal, the idle and the busy, the merchants and the men of learning. the prince, being now able to converse with fluency, and having learned the caution necessary to be observed in his intercourse with strangers, began to accompany imlac to places of resort, and to enter into all assemblies, that he might make his choice of life. for some time, he thought choice needless, because all appeared, to him, equally happy. wherever he went he met gaiety and kindness, and heard the song of joy, or the laugh of carelessness. he began to believe, that the world overflowed with universal plenty, and that nothing was withheld either from want or merit; that every hand showered liberality, and every heart melted with benevolence; "and who then," says he, "will be suffered to be wretched?" imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, and was unwilling to crush the hope of inexperience, till one day, having sat awhile silent, "i know not," said the prince, "what can be the reason, that i am more unhappy than any of our friends. i see them perpetually and unalterably cheerful, but feel my own mind restless and uneasy. i am unsatisfied with those pleasures which i seem most to court; i live in the crowds of jollity, not so much to enjoy company, as to shun myself, and am only loud and merry to conceal my sadness." "every man," said imlac, "may, by examining his own mind, guess what passes in the minds of others: when you feel that your own gaiety is counterfeit, it may justly lead you to suspect that of your companions not to be sincere. envy is commonly reciprocal. we are long before we are convinced, that happiness is never to be found, and each believes it possessed by others, to keep alive the hope of obtaining it for himself. in the assembly, where you passed the last night, there appeared such sprightliness of air, and volatility of fancy, as might have suited beings of a higher order, formed to inhabit serener regions, inaccessible to care or sorrow; yet, believe me, prince, there was not one who did not dread the moment, when solitude should deliver him to the tyranny of reflection." "this" said the prince, "may be true of others, since it is true of me; yet, whatever be the general infelicity of man, one condition is more happy than another, and wisdom surely directs us to take the least evil in the choice of life." "the causes of good and evil," answered imlac, "are so various and uncertain, so often entangled with each other, so diversified by various relations, and so much subject to accidents, which cannot be foreseen, that he, who would fix his condition upon incontestable reasons of preference, must live and die inquiring and deliberating." "but surely," said rasselas, "the wise men, to whom we listen with reverence and wonder, chose that mode of life for themselves, which they thought most likely to make them happy." "very few," said the poet, "live by choice. every man is placed in his present condition by causes which acted without his foresight, and with which he did not always willingly cooperate; and, therefore, you will rarely meet one, who does not think the lot of his neighbour better than his own." "i am pleased to think," said the prince, "that my birth has given me, at least, one advantage over others, by enabling me to determine for myself. i have here the world before me; i will review it at leisure: surely happiness is somewhere to be found." chap. xvii. the prince associates with young men of spirit and gaiety. rasselas rose next day, and resolved to begin his experiments upon life. "youth," cried he, "is the time of gladness: i will join myself to the young men, whose only business is to gratify their desires, and whose time is all spent in a succession of enjoyments." to such societies he was readily admitted, but a few days brought him back, weary and disgusted. their mirth was without images; their laughter without motive; their pleasures were gross and sensual, in which the mind had no part; their conduct was, at once, wild and mean; they laughed at order and at law, but the frown of power dejected, and the eye of wisdom abashed them. the prince soon concluded, that he should never be happy in a course of life, of which he was ashamed. he thought it unsuitable to a reasonable being to act without a plan, and to be sad or cheerful only by chance. "happiness," said he, "must be something solid and permanent, without fear and without uncertainty." but his young companions had gained so much of his regard by their frankness and courtesy, that he could not leave them, without warning and remonstrance. "my friends," said he "i have seriously considered our manners and our prospects, and find that we have mistaken our own interest. the first years of man must make provision for the last. he that never thinks, never can be wise. perpetual levity must end in ignorance; and intemperance, though it may fire the spirits for an hour, will make life short or miserable. let us consider, that youth is of no long duration, and that, in maturer age, when the enchantments of fancy shall cease, and phantoms of delight dance no more about us, we shall have no comforts but the esteem of wise men, and the means of doing good. let us, therefore, stop, while to stop is in our power: let us live as men who are sometime to grow old, and to whom it will be the most dreadful of all evils to count their past years by follies, and to be reminded of their former luxuriance of health, only by the maladies which riot has produced." they stared awhile, in silence, one upon another, and, at last, drove him away by a general chorus of continued laughter. the consciousness that his sentiments were just, and his intentions kind, was scarcely sufficient to support him against the horrour of derision. but he recovered his tranquillity, and pursued his search. chap. xviii. the prince finds a wise and happy man. as he was one day walking in the street, he saw a spacious building, which all were, by the open doors, invited to enter: he followed the stream of people, and found it a hall or school of declamation, in which professors read lectures to their auditory. he fixed his eye upon a sage, raised above the rest, who discoursed, with great energy, on the government of the passions. his look was venerable, his action graceful, his pronunciation clear, and his diction elegant. he showed, with great strength of sentiment, and variety of illustration, that human nature is degraded and debased, when the lower faculties predominate over the higher; that when fancy, the parent of passion, usurps the dominion of the mind, nothing ensues but the natural effect of unlawful government, perturbation and confusion; that she betrays the fortresses of the intellect to rebels, and excites her children to sedition against reason, their lawful sovereign. he compared reason to the sun, of which the light is constant, uniform, and lasting; and fancy to a meteor, of bright but transitory lustre, irregular in its motion, and delusive in its direction. he then communicated the various precepts given, from time to time, for the conquest of passion, and displayed the happiness of those who had obtained the important victory, after which man is no longer the slave of fear, nor the fool of hope; is no more emaciated by envy, inflamed by anger, emasculated by tenderness, or depressed by grief; but walks on calmly through the tumults, or privacies of life, as the sun pursues alike his course through the calm or the stormy sky. he enumerated many examples of heroes immovable by pain or pleasure, who looked with indifference on those modes or accidents, to which the vulgar give the names of good and evil. he exhorted his hearers to lay aside their prejudices, and arm themselves against the shafts of malice or misfortune, by invulnerable patience; concluding, that this state only was happiness, and that this happiness was in every one's power. rasselas listened to him, with the veneration due to the instructions of a superiour being, and, waiting for him at the door, humbly implored the liberty of visiting so great a master of true wisdom. the lecturer hesitated a moment, when rasselas put a purse of gold into his hand, which he received with a mixture of joy and wonder. "i have found," said the prince, at his return to imlac, "a man who can teach all that is necessary to be known; who, from the unshaken throne of rational fortitude, looks down on the scenes of life changing beneath him. he speaks, and attention watches his lips. he reasons, and conviction closes his periods. this man shall be my future guide: i will learn his doctrines, and imitate his life." "be not too hasty," said imlac, "to trust, or to admire the teachers of morality: they discourse, like angels, but they live, like men." rasselas, who could not conceive, how any man could reason so forcibly, without feeling the cogency of his own arguments, paid his visit in a few days, and was denied admission. he had now learned the power of money, and made his way, by a piece of gold, to the inner apartment, where he found the philosopher, in a room half-darkened, with his eyes misty, and his face pale. "sir," said he, "you are come at a time when all human friendship is useless; what i suffer cannot be remedied, what i have lost cannot be supplied. my daughter, my only daughter, from whose tenderness i expected all the comforts of my age, died last night of a fever. my views, my purposes, my hopes are at an end: i am now a lonely being, disunited from society." "sir," said the prince, "mortality is an event by which a wise man can never be surprised: we know that death is always near, and it should, therefore, always be expected." "young man," answered the philosopher, "you speak like one that has never felt the pangs of separation." "have you then forgot the precepts," said rasselas, "which you so powerfully enforced? has wisdom no strength to arm the heart against calamity? consider, that external things are naturally variable, but truth and reason are always the same." "what comfort," said the mourner, "can truth and reason afford me? of what effect are they now, but to tell me, that my daughter will not be restored?" the prince, whose humanity would not suffer him to insult misery with reproof, went away, convinced of the emptiness of rhetorical sound, and the inefficacy of polished periods and studied sentences. chap. xix. a glimpse of pastoral life. he was still eager upon the same inquiry: and having heard of a hermit, that lived near the lowest cataract of the nile, and filled the whole country with the fame of his sanctity, resolved to visit his retreat, and inquire, whether that felicity, which publick life could not afford, was to be found in solitude; and whether a man, whose age and virtue made him venerable, could teach any peculiar art of shunning evils, or enduring them? imlac and the princess agreed to accompany him, and, after the necessary preparations, they began their journey. their way lay through the fields, where shepherds tended their flocks, and the lambs were playing upon the pasture. "this," said the poet, "is the life which has been often celebrated for its innocence and quiet; let us pass the heat of the day among the shepherds' tents, and know, whether all our searches are not to terminate in pastoral simplicity." the proposal pleased them, and they induced the shepherds, by small presents and familiar questions, to tell their opinion of their own state: they were so rude and ignorant, so little able to compare the good with the evil of the occupation, and so indistinct in their narratives and descriptions, that very little could be learned from them. but it was evident, that their hearts were cankered with discontent; that they considered themselves, as condemned to labour for the luxury of the rich, and looked up, with stupid malevolence, toward those that were placed above them. the princess pronounced with vehemence, that she would never suffer these envious savages to be her companions, and that she should not soon be desirous of seeing any more specimens of rustick happiness; but could not believe that all the accounts of primeval pleasures were fabulous; and was yet in doubt, whether life had any thing that could be justly preferred to the placid gratifications of fields and woods. she hoped, that the time would come, when, with a few virtuous and elegant companions, she should gather flowers, planted by her own hand, fondle the lambs of her own ewe, and listen, without care, among brooks and breezes, to one of her maidens reading in the shade. chap. xx. the danger of prosperity. on the next day they continued their journey, till the heat compelled them to look round for shelter. at a small distance, they saw a thick wood, which they no sooner entered, than they perceived that they were approaching the habitations of men. the shrubs were diligently cut away to open walks, where the shades were darkest; the boughs of opposite trees were artificially interwoven; seats of flowery turf were raised in vacant spaces, and a rivulet, that wantoned along the side of a winding path, had its banks sometimes opened into small basins, and its streams sometimes obstructed by little mounds of stone, heaped together to increase its murmurs. they passed slowly through the wood, delighted with such unexpected accommodations, and entertained each other with conjecturing, what, or who, he could be, that, in those rude and unfrequented regions, had leisure and art for such harmless luxury. as they advanced, they heard the sound of musick, and saw youths and virgins dancing in the grove; and, going still further, beheld a stately palace, built upon a hill, surrounded with woods. the laws of eastern hospitality allowed them to enter, and the master welcomed them, like a man liberal and wealthy. he was skilful enough in appearances, soon to discern that they were no common guests, and spread his table with magnificence. the eloquence of imlac caught his attention, and the lofty courtesy of the princess excited his respect. when they offered to depart, he entreated their stay, and was the next day still more unwilling to dismiss them than before. they were easily persuaded to stop, and civility grew up, in time, to freedom and confidence. the prince now saw all the domesticks cheerful, and all the face of nature smiling round the place, and could not forbear to hope that he should find here what he was seeking; but when he was congratulating the master upon his possessions, he answered, with a sigh: "my condition has, indeed, the appearance of happiness, but appearances are delusive. my prosperity puts my life in danger; the bassa of egypt is my enemy, incensed only by my wealth and popularity. i have been, hitherto, protected against him by the princes of the country; but, as the favour of the great is uncertain, i know not, how soon my defenders may be persuaded to share the plunder with the bassa. i have sent my treasures into a distant country, and, upon the first alarm, am prepared to follow them. then will my enemies riot in my mansion, and enjoy the gardens which i have planted." they all joined in lamenting his danger, and deprecating his exile; and the princess was so much disturbed with the tumult of grief and indignation, that she retired to her apartment. they continued with their kind inviter a few days longer, and then went forward to find the hermit. chap. xxi. the happiness of solitude. the hermit's history. they came, on the third day, by the direction of the peasants, to the hermit's cell: it was a cavern, in the side of a mountain, over-shadowed with palm-trees; at such a distance from the cataract, that nothing more was heard than a gentle uniform murmur, such as composed the mind to pensive meditation, especially when it was assisted by the wind whistling among the branches. the first rude essay of nature had been so much improved by human labour, that the cave contained several apartments, appropriated to different uses, and often afforded lodging to travellers, whom darkness or tempests happened to overtake. the hermit sat on a bench at the door, to enjoy the coolness of the evening. on one side lay a book, with pens and papers, on the other, mechanical instruments of various kinds. as they approached him unregarded, the princess observed, that he had not the countenance of a man that had found, or could teach the way to happiness. they saluted him with great respect, which he repaid, like a man not unaccustomed to the forms of courts. "my children," said he, "if you have lost your way, you shall be willingly supplied with such conveniencies, for the night, as this cavern will afford. i have all that nature requires, and you will not expect delicacies in a hermit's cell." they thanked him, and, entering, were pleased with the neatness and regularity of the place. the hermit set flesh and wine before them, though he fed only upon fruits and water. his discourse was cheerful without levity, and pious without enthusiasm. he soon gained the esteem of his guests, and the princess repented of her hasty censure. at last imlac began thus: "i do not now wonder that your reputation is so far extended; we have heard at cairo of your wisdom, and came hither to implore your direction for this young man and maiden, in the choice of life." "to him that lives well," answered the hermit, "every form of life is good; nor can i give any other rule for choice, than to remove from all apparent evil." "he will remove most certainly from evil," said the prince, "who shall devote himself to that solitude, which you have recommended by your example." "i have, indeed, lived fifteen years in solitude," said the hermit, "but have no desire that my example should gain any imitators. in my youth i professed arms, and was raised, by degrees, to the highest military rank. i have traversed wide countries, at the head of my troops, and seen many battles and sieges. at last, being disgusted by the preferment of a younger officer, and feeling, that my vigour was beginning to decay, i was resolved to close my life in peace, having found the world full of snares, discord, and misery. i had once escaped from the pursuit of the enemy by the shelter of this cavern, and, therefore, chose it for my final residence. i employed artificers to form it into chambers, and stored it with all that i was likely to want. "for some time after my retreat, i rejoiced, like a tempest-beaten sailor at his entrance into the harbour, being delighted with the sudden change of the noise and hurry of war to stillness and repose. when the pleasure of novelty went away, i employed my hours in examining the plants which grow in the valley, and the minerals which i collected from the rocks. but that inquiry is now grown tasteless and irksome. i have been, for some time, unsettled and distracted; my mind is disturbed with a thousand perplexities of doubt, and vanities of imagination, which hourly prevail upon me, because i have no opportunities of relaxation or diversion. i am sometimes ashamed to think, that i could not secure myself from vice, but by retiring from the exercise of virtue, and begin to suspect, that i was rather impelled by resentment, than led by devotion, into solitude. my fancy riots in scenes of folly, and i lament, that i have lost so much, and have gained so little. in solitude, if i escape the example of bad men, i want, likewise, the counsel and conversation of the good. i have been long comparing the evils with the advantages of society, and resolve to return into the world to-morrow. the life of a solitary man will be certainly miserable, but not certainly devout." they heard his resolution with surprise, but, after a short pause, offered to conduct him to cairo. he dug up a considerable treasure, which he had hid among the rocks, and accompanied them to the city, on which, as he approached it, he gazed with rapture. chap. xxii. the happiness of a life, led according to nature. rasselas went often to an assembly of learned men, who met, at stated times, to unbend their minds, and compare their opinions. their manners were somewhat coarse, but their conversation was instructive, and their disputations acute, though sometimes too violent, and often continued, till neither controvertist remembered, upon what question they began. some faults were almost general among them; every one was desirous to dictate to the rest, and every one was pleased to hear the genius or knowledge of another depreciated. in this assembly rasselas was relating his interview with the hermit, and the wonder with which he heard him censure a course of life, which he had so deliberately chosen, and so laudably followed. the sentiments of the hearers were various. some were of opinion, that the folly of his choice had been justly punished by condemnation to perpetual perseverance. one of the youngest among them, with great vehemence, pronounced him a hypocrite. some talked of the right of society to the labour of individuals, and considered retirement as a desertion of duty. others readily allowed, that there was a time, when the claims of the publick were satisfied, and when a man might properly sequester himself, to review his life, and purify his heart. one, who appeared more affected with the narrative than the rest, thought it likely, that the hermit would, in a few years, go back to his retreat, and, perhaps, if shame did not restrain, or death intercept him, return once more from his retreat into the world: "for the hope of happiness," said he "is so strongly impressed, that the longest experience is not able to efface it. of the present state, whatever it may be, we feel, and are forced to confess, the misery; yet, when the same state is again at a distance, imagination paints it as desirable. but the time will surely come, when desire will be no longer our torment, and no man shall be wretched, but by his own fault." "this," said a philosopher, who had heard him with tokens of great impatience, "is the present condition of a wise man. the time is already come, when none are wretched, but by their own fault. nothing is more idle, than to inquire after happiness, which nature has kindly placed within our reach. the way to be happy is to live according to nature, in obedience to that universal and unalterable law, with which every heart is originally impressed; which is not written on it by precept, but engraven by destiny, not instilled by education, but infused at our nativity. he that lives according to nature will suffer nothing from the delusions of hope, or importunities of desire; he will receive and reject with equability of temper; and act or suffer, as the reason of things shall alternately prescribe. other men may amuse themselves with subtile definitions, or intricate ratiocinations. let them learn to be wise by easier means; let them observe the hind of the forest, and the linnet of the grove; let them consider the life of animals, whose motions are regulated by instinct; they obey their guide, and are happy. let us, therefore, at length, cease to dispute, and learn to live; throw away the incumbrance of precepts, which they, who utter them, with so much pride and pomp, do not understand, and carry with us this simple and intelligible maxim: that deviation from nature is deviation from happiness." when he had spoken, he looked round him with a placid air, and enjoyed the consciousness of his own beneficence. "sir," said the prince, with great modesty, "as i, like all the rest of mankind, am desirous of felicity, my closest attention has been fixed upon your discourse: i doubt not the truth of a position, which a man so learned has, so confidently, advanced. let me only know, what it is to live according to nature." "when i find young men so humble and so docile," said the philosopher, "i can deny them no information which my studies have enabled me to afford. to live according to nature, is to act always with due regard to the fitness arising from the relations and qualities of causes and effects; to concur with the great and unchangeable scheme of universal felicity; to cooperate with the general disposition and tendency of the present system of things." the prince soon found that this was one of the sages whom he should understand less, as he heard him longer. he, therefore, bowed, and was silent, and the philosopher, supposing him satisfied, and the rest vanquished, rose up and departed, with the air of a man that had cooperated with the present system. chap. xxiii. the prince and his sister divide between them the work of observation. rasselas returned home full of reflections, doubtful how to direct his future steps. of the way to happiness, he found the learned and simple equally ignorant; but, as he was yet young, he flattered himself that he had time remaining for more experiments, and further inquiries. he communicated to imlac his observations and his doubts, but was answered by him with new doubts, and remarks that gave him no comfort. he, therefore, discoursed more frequently and freely with his sister, who had yet the same hope with himself, and always assisted him to give some reason why, though he had been, hitherto, frustrated, he might succeed at last. "we have, hitherto," said she, "known but little of the world: we have never yet been either great or mean. in our own country, though we had royalty, we had no power; and, in this, we have not yet seen the private recesses of domestick peace. imlac favours not our search, lest we should, in time, find him mistaken. we will divide the task between us: you shall try what is to be found in the splendour of courts, and i will range the shades of humbler life. perhaps command and authority may be the supreme blessings, as they afford most opportunities of doing good: or, perhaps, what this world can give may be found in the modest habitations of middle fortune, too low for great designs, and too high for penury and distress." chap. xxiv. the prince examines the happiness of high stations. rasselas applauded the design, and appeared, next day, with a splendid retinue at the court of the bassa. he was soon distinguished for his magnificence, and admitted as a prince, whose curiosity had brought him from distant countries, to an intimacy with the great officers, and frequent conversation with the bassa himself. he was, at first, inclined to believe, that the man must be pleased with his own condition, whom all approached with reverence, and heard with obedience, and who had the power to extend his edicts, to a whole kingdom. "there can be no pleasure," said he, "equal to that of feeling, at once, the joy of thousands, all made happy by wise administration. yet, since by the law of subordination, this sublime delight can be in one nation but the lot of one, it is, surely, reasonable to think, that there is some satisfaction more popular and accessible; and that millions can hardly be subjected to the will of a single man, only to fill his particular breast with incommunicable content." these thoughts were often in his mind, and he found no solution of the difficulty. but, as presents and civilities gained him more familiarity, he found that almost every man, who stood high in employment, hated all the rest, and was hated by them, and that their lives were a continual succession of plots and detections, stratagems and escapes, faction and treachery. many of those, who surrounded the bassa, were sent only to watch and report his conduct; every tongue was muttering censure, and every eye was searching for a fault. at last the letters of revocation arrived, the bassa was carried in chains to constantinople, and his name was mentioned no more. "what are we now to think of the prerogatives of power?" said rasselas to his sister: "is it without any efficacy to good? or, is the subordinate degree only dangerous, and the supreme safe and glorious? is the sultan the only happy man in his dominions? or, is the sultan himself subject to the torments of suspicion, and the dread of enemies?" in a short time the second bassa was deposed. the sultan, that had advanced him, was murdered by the janizaries, and his successour had other views, and different favourites. chap. xxv. the princess pursues her inquiry with more diligence than success. the princess, in the mean time, insinuated herself into many families; for there are few doors, through which liberality, joined with good-humour, cannot find its way. the daughters of many houses were airy and cheerful, but nekayah had been too long accustomed to the conversation of imlac and her brother, to be much pleased with childish levity, and prattle, which had no meaning. she found their thoughts narrow, their wishes low, and their merriment often artificial. their pleasures, poor as they were, could not be preserved pure, but were imbittered by petty competitions, and worthless emulation. they were always jealous of the beauty of each other; of a quality to which solicitude can add nothing, and from which detraction can take nothing away. many were in love with triflers, like themselves, and many fancied that they were in love, when, in truth, they were only idle. their affection was not fixed on sense or virtue, and, therefore, seldom ended but in vexation. their grief, however, like their joy, was transient; every thing floated in their mind, unconnected with the past or future; so that one desire easily gave way to another, as a second stone, cast into the water, effaces and confounds the circles of the first. with these girls she played, as with inoffensive animals, and found them proud of her countenance, and weary of her company. but her purpose was to examine more deeply, and her affability easily persuaded the hearts that were swelling with sorrow, to discharge their secrets in her ear: and those, whom hope flattered, or prosperity delighted, often courted her to partake their pleasures. the princess and her brother commonly met in the evening in a private summer house, on the bank of the nile, and related to each other the occurrences of the day. as they were sitting together, the princess cast her eyes upon the river that flowed before her. "answer," said she, "great father of waters, thou that rollest thy floods through eighty nations, to the invocations of the daughter of thy native king. tell me, if thou waterest, through all thy course, a single habitation from which thou dost not hear the murmurs of complaint?" "you are then," said rasselas, "not more successful in private houses, than i have been in courts." "i have, since the last partition of our provinces," said the princess, "enabled myself to enter familiarly into many families, where there was the fairest show of prosperity and peace, and know not one house that is not haunted by some fury, that destroys their quiet. "i did not seek ease among the poor, because i concluded that, there, it could not be found. but i saw many poor, whom i had supposed to live in affluence. poverty has, in large cities, very different appearances; it is often concealed in splendour, and often in extravagance. it is the care of a very great part of mankind to conceal their indigence from the rest; they support themselves by temporary expedients, and every day is lost in contriving for the morrow. "this, however, was an evil, which, though frequent, i saw with less pain, because i could relieve it. yet some have refused my bounties; more offended with my quickness to detect their wants, than pleased with my readiness to succour them: and others, whose exigencies compelled them to admit my kindness, have never been able to forgive their benefactress. many, however, have been sincerely grateful, without the ostentation of gratitude, or the hope of other favours." chap. xxvi. the princess continues her remarks upon private life. nekayah, perceiving her brother's attention fixed, proceeded in her narrative. "in families, where there is, or is not, poverty, there is commonly discord: if a kingdom be, as imlac tells us, a great family, a family, likewise, is a little kingdom, torn with factions, and exposed to revolutions. an unpractised observer expects the love of parents and children to be constant and equal; but this kindness seldom continues beyond the years of infancy; in a short time the children become rivals to their parents. benefits are allayed by reproaches, and gratitude debased by envy. "parents and children seldom act in concert: each child endeavours to appropriate the esteem, or fondness of the parents; and the parents, with yet less temptation, betray each other to their children; thus some place their confidence in the father, and some in the mother, and, by degrees, the house is filled with artifices and feuds. "the opinions of children and parents, of the young and the old, are naturally opposite, by the contrary effects of hope and despondence, of expectation and experience, without crime or folly on either side. the colours of life, in youth and age, appear different, as the face of nature, in spring and winter. and how can children credit the assertions of parents, which their own eyes show them to be false? "few parents act in such a manner, as much to enforce their maxims, by the credit of their lives. the old man trusts wholly to slow contrivance and gradual progression: the youth expects to force his way by genius, vigour, and precipitance. the old man pays regard to riches, and the youth reverences virtue. the old man deifies prudence: the youth commits himself to magnanimity and chance. the young man, who intends no ill, believes that none is intended, and, therefore, acts with openness and candour: but his father, having suffered the injuries of fraud, is impelled to suspect, and, too often, allured to practise it. age looks with anger on the temerity of youth, and youth with contempt on the scrupulosity of age. thus parents and children, for the greatest part, live on to love less and less: and, if those whom nature has thus closely united are the torments of each other, where shall we look for tenderness and consolation?" "surely," said the prince, "you must have been unfortunate in your choice of acquaintance: i am unwilling to believe, that the most tender of all relations is thus impeded, in its effects, by natural necessity." "domestick discord," answered she, "is not inevitably and fatally necessary; but yet it is not easily avoided. we seldom see that a whole family is virtuous: the good and evil cannot well agree: and the evil can yet less agree with one another: even the virtuous fall, sometimes, to variance, when their virtues are of different kinds, and tending to extremes. in general, those parents have most reverence who most deserve it: for he that lives well cannot be despised. "many other evils infest private life. some are the slaves of servants, whom they have trusted with their affairs. some are kept in continual anxiety, by the caprice of rich relations, whom they cannot please, and dare not offend. some husbands are imperious, and some wives perverse: and, as it is always more easy to do evil than good, though the wisdom or virtue of one can very rarely make many happy, the folly or vice of one may often make many miserable." "if such be the general effect of marriage," said the prince, "i shall, for the future, think it dangerous to connect my interest with that of another, lest i should be unhappy by my partner's fault." "i have met," said the princess, "with many who live single for that reason; but i never found that their prudence ought to raise envy. they dream away their time without friendship, without fondness, and are driven to rid themselves of the day, for which they have no use, by childish amusements, or vitious delights. they act as beings under the constant sense of some known inferiority, that fills their minds with rancour, and their tongues with censure. they are peevish at home, and malevolent abroad; and, as the outlaws of human nature, make it their business and their pleasure to disturb that society, which debars them from its privileges. to live without feeling or exciting sympathy; to be fortunate without adding to the felicity of others, or afflicted without tasting the balm of pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude: it is not retreat, but exclusion from mankind. marriage has many pains, but celibacy has no pleasures." "what then is to be done?" said rasselas; "the more we inquire, the less we can resolve. surely he is most likely to please himself, that has no other inclination to regard." chap. xxvii. disquisition upon greatness. the conversation had a short pause. the prince, having considered his sister's observations, told her that she had surveyed life with prejudice, and supposed misery where she did not find it. "your narrative," says he, "throws yet a darker gloom upon the prospects of futurity: the predictions of imlac were but faint sketches of the evils painted by nekayah. i have been lately convinced, that quiet is not the daughter of grandeur, or of power: that her presence is not to be bought by wealth, nor enforced by conquest. it is evident, that as any man acts in a wider compass, he must be more exposed to opposition from enmity, or miscarriage from chance; whoever has many to please or to govern, must use the ministry of many agents, some of whom will be wicked, and some ignorant; by some he will be misled, and by others betrayed. if he gratifies one, he will offend another: those that are not favoured will think themselves injured; and, since favours can be conferred but upon few, the greater number will be always discontented." "the discontent," said the princess, "which is thus unreasonable, i hope, that i shall always have spirit to despise, and you power to repress." "discontent," answered rasselas, "will not always be without reason under the most just and vigilant administration of publick affairs. none, however attentive, can always discover that merit, which indigence or faction may happen to obscure; and none, however powerful, can always reward it. yet, he that sees inferiour desert advanced above him, will naturally impute that preference to partiality or caprice; and, indeed, it can scarcely be hoped that any man, however magnanimous by nature, or exalted by condition, will be able to persist, for ever, in the fixed and inexorable justice of distribution; he will sometimes indulge his own affections, and sometimes those of his favourites; he will permit some to please him who can never serve him; he will discover in those whom he loves, qualities which, in reality, they do not possess; and to those, from whom he receives pleasure, he will, in his turn, endeavour to give it. thus will recommendations sometimes prevail, which were purchased by money, or by the more destructive bribery of flattery and servility. "he that has much to do will do something wrong, and, of that wrong must suffer the consequences; and, if it were possible that he should always act rightly, yet, when such numbers are to judge of his conduct, the bad will censure and obstruct him by malevolence, and the good sometimes by mistake. "the highest stations cannot, therefore, hope to be the abodes of happiness, which i would willingly believe to have fled from thrones and palaces to seats of humble privacy, and placid obscurity. for what can hinder the satisfaction, or intercept the expectations of him, whose abilities are adequate to his employments; who sees, with his own eyes, the whole circuit of his influence; who chooses, by his own knowledge, all whom he trusts; and whom none are tempted to deceive by hope or fear? surely he has nothing to do, but to love and to be loved, to be virtuous and to be happy." "whether perfect happiness would be procured by perfect goodness," said nekayah, "this world will never afford an opportunity of deciding. but this, at least, may be maintained, that we do not always find visible happiness, in proportion to visible virtue. all natural, and almost all political evils, are incident alike to the bad and good; they are confounded in the misery of a famine, and not much distinguished in the fury of a faction; they sink together in a tempest, and are driven together from their country by invaders. all that virtue can afford is quietness of conscience, a steady prospect of a happier state; this may enable us to endure calamity with patience; but remember, that patience must suppose pain. chap. xxviii. rasselas and nekayah continue their conversation. "dear princess," said rasselas, "you fall into the common errours of exaggeratory declamation, by producing, in a familiar disquisition, examples of national calamities, and scenes of extensive misery, which are found in books, rather than in the world, and which, as they are horrid, are ordained to be rare. let us not imagine evils which we do not feel, nor injure life by misrepresentations; i cannot bear that querulous eloquence, which threatens every city with a siege, like that of jerusalem, that makes famine attend on every flight of locusts, and suspends pestilence on the wing of every blast that issues from the south. "on necessary and inevitable evils, which overwhelm kingdoms at once, all disputation is vain: when they happen they must be endured. but it is evident, that these bursts of universal distress are more dreaded than felt; thousands, and ten thousands, flourish in youth, and wither in age, without the knowledge of any other than domestick evils, and share the same pleasures and vexations, whether their kings are mild or cruel, whether the armies of their country pursue their enemies, or retreat before them. while courts are disturbed with intestine competitions, and ambassadours are negotiating in foreign countries, the smith still plies his anvil, and the husbandman drives his plough forward; the necessaries of life are required and obtained; and the successive business of the seasons continues to make its wonted revolutions. "let us cease to consider what, perhaps, may never happen, and what, when it shall happen, will laugh at human speculation. we will not endeavour to modify the motions of the elements, or to fix the destiny of kingdoms. it is our business to consider what beings, like us, may perform; each labouring for his own happiness, by promoting, within his circle, however narrow, the happiness of others. "marriage is evidently the dictate of nature; men and women are made to be companions of each other; and, therefore, i cannot be persuaded, but that marriage is one of the means of happiness." "i know not," said the princess, "whether marriage be more than one of the innumerable modes of human misery. when i see, and reckon, the various forms of connubial infelicity, the unexpected causes of lasting discord, the diversities of temper, the oppositions of opinion, the rude collisions of contrary desire, where both are urged by violent impulses, the obstinate contests of disagreeable virtues, where both are supported by consciousness of good intention, i am, sometimes, disposed to think, with the severer casuists of most nations, that marriage is rather permitted than approved, and that none, but by the instigation of a passion, too much indulged, entangle themselves with indissoluble compacts." "you seem to forget," replied rasselas, "that you have, even now, represented celibacy, as less happy than marriage. both conditions may be bad, but they cannot both be worst. thus it happens, when wrong opinions are entertained, that they mutually destroy each other, and leave the mind open to truth." "i did not expect," answered the princess, "to hear that imputed to falsehood, which is the consequence only of frailty. to the mind, as to the eye, it is difficult to compare, with exactness, objects, vast in their extent, and various in their parts. where we see, or conceive, the whole at once, we readily note the discriminations, and decide the preference: but of two systems, of which neither can be surveyed, by any human being, in its full compass of magnitude, and multiplicity of complication, where is the wonder, that, judging of the whole by parts, i am alternately affected by one and the other, as either presses on my memory or fancy? we differ from ourselves, just as we differ from each other, when we see only part of the question, as in the multifarious relations of politicks and morality; but when we perceive the whole at once, as in numerical computations, all agree in one judgment, and none ever varies his opinion." "let us not add," said the prince, "to the other evils of life, the bitterness of controversy, nor endeavour to vie with each other in subtilties of argument. we are employed in a search, of which both are equally to enjoy the success, or suffer by the miscarriage. it is, therefore, fit that we assist each other. you, surely, conclude too hastily from the infelicity of marriage against its institution: will not the misery of life prove equally, that life cannot be the gift of heaven? the world must be peopled by marriage, or peopled without it." "how the world is to be peopled," returned nekayah, "is not my care, and needs not be yours. i see no danger that the present generation should omit to leave successours behind them: we are not now inquiring for the world, but for ourselves." chap. xxix. the debate on marriage continued. "the good of the whole," says rasselas, "is the same with the good of all its parts. if marriage be best for mankind, it must be evidently best for individuals, or a permanent and necessary duty must be the cause of evil, and some must be inevitably sacrificed to the convenience of others. in the estimate, which you have made of the two states, it appears, that the incommodities of a single life are, in a great measure, necessary and certain, but those of the conjugal state, accidental and avoidable. "i cannot forbear to flatter myself, that prudence and benevolence will make marriage happy. the general folly of mankind is the cause of general complaint. what can be expected, but disappointment and repentance, from a choice made in the immaturity of youth, in the ardour of desire, without judgment, without foresight, without inquiry after conformity of opinions, similarity of manners, rectitude of judgment, or purity of sentiment? "such is the common process of marriage. a youth and maiden, meeting by chance, or brought together by artifice, exchange glances, reciprocate civilities, go home, and dream of one another. having little to divert attention, or diversify thought, they find themselves uneasy, when they are apart, and, therefore, conclude that they shall be happy together. they marry, and discover what nothing but voluntary blindness before had concealed; they wear out life in altercations, and charge nature with cruelty. "from those early marriages proceeds, likewise, the rivalry of parents and children; the son is eager to enjoy the world, before the father is willing to forsake it, and there is hardly room, at once, for two generations. the daughter begins to bloom, before the mother can be content to fade, and neither can forbear to wish for the absence of the other. "surely all these evils may be avoided, by that deliberation and delay, which prudence prescribes to irrevocable choice. in the variety and jollity of youthful pleasures, life may be well enough supported, without the help of a partner. longer time will increase experience, and wider views will allow better opportunities of inquiry and selection: one advantage, at least, will be certain; the parents will be visibly older than their children." "what reason cannot collect," said nekayah, "and what experiment has not yet taught, can be known only from the report of others. i have been told, that late marriages are not eminently happy. this is a question too important to be neglected, and i have often proposed it to those, whose accuracy of remark, and comprehensiveness of knowledge, made their suffrages worthy of regard. they have generally determined, that it is dangerous for a man and woman to suspend their fate upon each other, at a time, when opinions are fixed, and habits are established; when friendships have been contracted on both sides; when life has been planned into method, and the mind has long enjoyed the contemplation of its own prospects. "it is scarcely possible that two, travelling through the world, under the conduct of chance, should have been both directed to the same path, and it will not often happen, that either will quit the track which custom has made pleasing. when the desultory levity of youth has settled into regularity, it is soon succeeded by pride, ashamed to yield, or obstinacy, delighting to contend. and, even though mutual esteem produces mutual desire to please, time itself, as it modifies unchangeably the external mien, determines, likewise, the direction of the passions, and gives an inflexible rigidity to the manners. long customs are not easily broken: he that attempts to change the course of his own life, very often labours in vain; and how shall we do that for others, which we are seldom able to do for ourselves!" "but, surely," interposed the prince, "you suppose the chief motive of choice forgotten or neglected. whenever i shall seek a wife, it shall be my first question, whether she be willing to be led by reason." "thus it is," said nekayah, "that philosophers are deceived. there are a thousand familiar disputes, which reason can never decide; questions that elude investigation, and make logick ridiculous; cases where something must be done, and where little can be said. consider the state of mankind, and inquire how few can be supposed to act, upon any occasions, whether small or great, with all the reasons of action present to their minds. wretched would be the pair, above all names of wretchedness, who should be doomed to adjust by reason, every morning, all the minute detail of a domestick day. "those who marry at an advanced age, will, probably, escape the encroachments of their children; but, in diminution of this advantage, they will be likely to leave them, ignorant and helpless, to a guardian's mercy; or, if that should not happen, they must, at least, go out of the world, before they see those whom they love best, either wise or great. "from their children, if they have less to fear, they have less also to hope; and they lose, without equivalent, the joys of early love, and the convenience of uniting with manners pliant, and minds susceptible of new impressions, which might wear away their dissimilitudes by long cohabitation, as soft bodies, by continual attrition, conform their surfaces to each other. "i believe it will be found, that those who marry late, are best pleased with their children, and those who marry early with their partners." "the union of these two affections," said rasselas, "would produce all that could be wished. perhaps there is a time, when marriage might unite them, a time neither too early for the father, nor too late for the husband." "every hour," answered the princess, "confirms my prejudice in favour of the position, so often uttered by the mouth of imlac: 'that nature sets her gifts on the right hand and on the left.' those conditions, which flatter hope and attract desire, are so constituted, that, as we approach one, we recede from another. there are goods so opposed, that we cannot seize both, but, by too much prudence, may pass between them, at too great a distance to reach either. this is often the fate of long consideration; he does nothing, who endeavours to do more than is allowed to humanity. flatter not yourself with contrarieties of pleasure. of the blessings set before you make your choice, and be content. no man can taste the fruits of autumn, while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of the spring; no man can, at the same time, fill his cup from the source and from the mouth of the nile." chap. xxx. imlac enters, and changes the conversation. here imlac entered, and interrupted them. "imlac," said rasselas, "i have been taking from the princess the dismal history of private life, and am almost discouraged from further search." "it seems to me," said imlac, "that, while you are making the choice of life, you neglect to live. you wander about a single city, which, however large and diversified, can now afford few novelties, and forget that you are in a country, famous among the earliest monarchies for the power and wisdom of its inhabitants; a country, where the sciences first dawned that illuminate the world, and beyond which the arts cannot be traced of civil society or domestick life. "the old egyptians have left behind them monuments of industry and power, before which all european magnificence is confessed to fade away. the ruins of their architecture are the schools of modern builders; and, from the wonders which time has spared, we may conjecture, though uncertainly, what it has destroyed." "my curiosity," said rasselas, "does not very strongly lead me to survey piles of stone, or mounds of earth; my business is with man. i came hither not to measure fragments of temples, or trace choked aqueducts, but to look upon the various scenes of the present world." "the things that are now before us," said the princess, "require attention, and deserve it. what have i to do with the heroes or the monuments of ancient times? with times which never can return, and heroes, whose form of life was different, from all that the present condition of mankind requires or allows?" "to know any thing," returned the poet, "we must know its effects; to see men, we must see their works, that we may learn what reason has dictated, or passion has incited, and find what are the most powerful motives of action. to judge rightly of the present we must oppose it to the past; for all judgment is comparative, and of the future nothing can be known. the truth is, that no mind is much employed upon the present: recollection and anticipation fill up almost all our moments. our passions are joy and grief, love and hatred, hope and fear. of joy and grief, the past is the object, and the future of hope and fear; even love and hatred respect the past, for the cause must have been before the effect. "the present state of things is the consequence of the former, and it is natural to inquire, what were the sources of the good that we enjoy, or the evil that we suffer. if we act only for ourselves, to neglect the study of history is not prudent: if we are intrusted with the care of others, it is not just. ignorance, when it is voluntary, is criminal; and he may properly be charged with evil, who refused to learn how he might prevent it. "there is no part of history so generally useful, as that which relates the progress of the human mind, the gradual improvement of reason, the successive advances of science, the vicissitudes of learning and ignorance, which are the light and darkness of thinking beings, the extinction and resuscitation of arts, and the revolutions of the intellectual world. if accounts of battles and invasions are peculiarly the business of princes, the useful or elegant arts are not to be neglected; those who have kingdoms to govern, have understandings to cultivate. "example is always more efficacious than precept. a soldier is formed in war, and a painter must copy pictures. in this, contemplative life has the advantage: great actions are seldom seen, but the labours of art are always at hand, for those who desire to know what art has been able to perform. "when the eye or the imagination is struck with an uncommon work, the next transition of an active mind is to the means by which it was performed. here begins the true use of such contemplation; we enlarge our comprehension by new ideas, and, perhaps, recover some art lost to mankind, or learn what is less perfectly known in our own country. at least, we compare our own with former times, and either rejoice at our improvements, or, what is the first motion towards good, discover our defects." "i am willing," said the prince, "to see all that can deserve my search." "and i," said the princess, "shall rejoice to learn something of the manners of antiquity." "the most pompous monument of egyptian greatness, and one of the most bulky works of manual industry," said imlac, "are the pyramids; fabricks raised, before the time of history, and of which the earliest narratives afford us only uncertain traditions. of these, the greatest is still standing, very little injured by time." "let us visit them to-morrow," said nekayah. "i have often heard of the pyramids, and shall not rest, till i have seen them, within and without, with my own eyes." chap. xxxi. they visit the pyramids. the resolution being thus taken, they set out the next day. they laid tents upon their camels, being resolved to stay among the pyramids, till their curiosity was fully satisfied. they travelled gently, turned aside to every thing remarkable, stopped, from time to time, and conversed with the inhabitants, and observed the various appearances of towns ruined and inhabited, of wild and cultivated nature. when they came to the great pyramid, they were astonished at the extent of the base, and the height of the top. imlac explained to them the principles upon which the pyramidal form was chosen for a fabrick, intended to coextend its duration with that of the world: he showed, that its gradual diminution gave it such stability, as defeated all the common attacks of the elements, and could scarcely be overthrown by earthquakes themselves, the least resistible of natural violence. a concussion that should shatter the pyramid, would threaten the dissolution of the continent. they measured all its dimensions, and pitched their tents at its foot. next day they prepared to enter its interiour apartments, and, having hired the common guides, climbed up to the first passage, when the favourite of the princess, looking into the cavity, stepped back and trembled. "pekuah," said the princess, "of what art thou afraid?" "of the narrow entrance," answered the lady, "and of the dreadful gloom. i dare not enter a place which must, surely, be inhabited by unquiet souls. the original possessours of these dreadful vaults will start up before us, and, perhaps, shut us in for ever[a]." she spoke, and threw her arms round the neck of her mistress. "if all your fear be of apparitions," said the prince, "i will promise you safety: there is no danger from the dead; he that is once buried will be seen no more." "that the dead are seen no more," said imlac, "i will not undertake to maintain, against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages, and of all nations. there is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. this opinion, which perhaps, prevails, as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth: those that never heard of one another, would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. that it is doubted by single cavillers, can very little weaken the general evidence; and some, who deny it with their tongues, confess it by their fears".[b] "yet i do not mean to add new terrours to those which have already seized upon pekuah. there can be no reason, why spectres should haunt the pyramid more than other places, or why they should have power or will to hurt innocence and purity. our entrance is no violation of their privileges; we can take nothing from them, how then can we offend them?" "my dear pekuah," said the princess, "i will always go before you, and imlac shall follow you. remember that you are the companion of the princess of abissinia." "if the princess is pleased that her servant should die," returned the lady, "let her command some death less dreadful than enclosure in this horrid cavern. you know, i dare not disobey you: i must go, if you command me; but, if i once enter, i never shall come back." the princess saw that her fear was too strong for expostulation or reproof, and, embracing her, told her, that she should stay in the tent, till their return. pekuah was yet not satisfied, but entreated the princess not to pursue so dreadful a purpose, as that of entering the rececess of the pyramid. "though i cannot teach courage," said nekayah, "i must not learn cowardice; nor leave, at last, undone what i came hither only to do." [a] it may not be unacceptable to our readers, to quote, in this place, a stanza, from an ode to horror in the student, ii. . it alludes to the story of a french gentleman, who, going into the catacombs, not far from cairo, with some arab guides, was there robbed by them, and left; a huge stone being placed over the entrance. what felt the gallic, traveller, when far in arab desert, drear, he found within the catacomb, alive, the terrors of a tomb? while many a mummy, through the shade, in hieroglyphic stole arrayed, seem'd to uprear the mystic head, and trace the gloom with ghostly tread; thou heard'st him pour the stifled groan, horror! his soul was all thy own! ed. [b] see hibbert's philosophy of apparitions. it is to be regretted, that coleridge has never yet gratified the wish he professed to feel, in the first volume of his friend, p. , to devote an entire work to the subject of dreams, visions, ghosts, witchcraft, &c; in it we should have had the satisfaction of tracing the workings of a most vivid imagination, analyzed by the most discriminating judgment. see barrow's sermon on the being of god, proved from supernatural effects. we need scarcely request the reader to bear in mind, that barrow was a mathematician, and one of the most severe of reasoners.--ed. chap. xxxii. they enter the pyramid. pekuah descended to the tents, and the rest entered the pyramid: they passed through the galleries, surveyed the vaults of marble, and examined the chest, in which the body of the founder is supposed to have been reposited. they then sat down in one of the most spacious chambers, to rest awhile before they attempted to return. "we have now," said imlac, "gratified our minds with an exact view of the greatest work of man, except the wall of china. "of the wall it is very easy to assign the motive. it secured a wealthy and timorous nation from the incursions of barbarians, whose unskilfulness in arts made it easier for them to supply their wants by rapine than by industry, and who, from time to time, poured in upon the habitations of peaceful commerce, as vultures descend upon domestick fowl. their celerity and fierceness, made the wall necessary, and their ignorance made it efficacious. "but, for the pyramids, no reason has ever been given adequate to the cost and labour of the work. the narrowness of the chambers proves that it could afford no retreat from enemies, and treasures might have been reposited, at far less expense, with equal security. it seems to have been erected only in compliance with that hunger of imagination, which preys incessantly upon life, and must be always appeased by some employment. those who have already all that they can enjoy, must enlarge their desires. he that has built for use, till use is supplied, must begin to build for vanity, and extend his plan to the utmost power of human performance, that he may not be soon reduced to form another wish. "i consider this mighty structure, as a monument of the insufficiency of human enjoyments. a king, whose power is unlimited, and whose treasures surmount all real and imaginary wants, is compelled to solace, by the erection of a pyramid, the satiety of dominion and tastelessness of pleasures, and to amuse the tediousness of declining life, by seeing thousands labouring without end, and one stone, for no purpose, laid upon another. whoever thou art, that, not content with a moderate condition, imaginest happiness in royal magnificence, and dreamest that command or riches can feed the appetite of novelty, with perpetual gratifications, survey the pyramids, and confess thy folly!" chap. xxxiii. the princess meets with an unexpected misfortune. they rose up, and returned through the cavity, at which they had entered, and the princess prepared for her favourite a long narrative of dark labyrinths, and costly rooms, and of the different impressions, which the varieties of the way had made upon her. but, when they came to their train, they found every one silent and dejected: the men discovered shame and fear in their countenances, and the women were weeping in the tents. what had happened they did not try to conjecture, but immediately inquired. "you had scarcely entered into the pyramid," said one of the attendants, "when a troop of arabs rushed upon us; we were too few to resist them, and too slow to escape. they were about to search the tents, set us on our camels, and drive us along before them, when the approach of some turkish horsemen put them to flight; but they seized the lady pekuah with her two maids, and carried them away: the turks are now pursuing them by our instigation, but, i fear, they will not be able to overtake them." the princess was overpowered with surprise and grief. rasselas, in the first heat of his resentment, ordered his servants to follow him, and prepared to pursue the robbers with his sabre in his hand. "sir," said imlac, "what can you hope from violence or valour? the arabs are mounted on horses trained to battle and retreat; we have only beasts of burden. by leaving our present station we may lose the princess, but cannot hope to regain pekuah." in a short time, the turks returned, having not been able to reach the enemy. the princess burst out into new lamentations, and rasselas could scarcely forbear to reproach them with cowardice; but imlac was of opinion, that the escape of the arabs was no addition to their misfortune, for, perhaps, they would have killed their captives, rather than have resigned them. chap. xxxiv. they return to cairo without pekuah. there was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. they returned to cairo, repenting of their curiosity, censuring the negligence of the government, lamenting their own rashness, which had neglected to procure a guard, imagining many expedients, by which the loss of pekuah might have been prevented, and resolving to do something for her recovery, though none could find any thing proper to be done. nekayah retired to her chamber, where her women attempted to comfort her, by telling her, that all had their troubles, and that lady pekuah had enjoyed much happiness in the world, for a long time, and might reasonably expect a change of fortune. they hoped, that some good would befall her, wheresoever she was, and that their mistress would find another friend, who might supply her place. the princess made them no answer, and they continued the form of condolence, not much grieved in their hearts that the favourite was lost. next day the prince presented, to the bassa, a memorial of the wrong which he had suffered, and a petition for redress. the bassa threatened to punish the robbers, but did not attempt to catch them, nor, indeed, could any account or description be given, by which he might direct the pursuit. it soon appeared, that nothing would be done by authority. governours, being accustomed to hear of more crimes than they can punish, and more wrongs than they can redress, set themselves at ease by indiscriminate negligence, and presently forget the request, when they lose sight of the petitioner. imlac then endeavoured to gain some intelligence by private agents. he found many who pretended to an exact knowledge of all the haunts of the arabs, and to regular correspondence with their chiefs, and who readily undertook the recovery of pekuah. of these, some were furnished with money for their journey, and came back no more; some were liberally paid for accounts which a few days discovered to be false. but the princess would not suffer any means, however improbable, to be left untried. while she was doing something, she kept her hope alive. as one expedient failed, another was suggested; when one messenger returned unsuccessful, another was despatched to a different quarter. two months had now passed, and of pekuah nothing had been heard; the hopes, which they had endeavoured to raise in each other, grew more languid, and the princess, when she saw nothing more to be tried, sunk down inconsolable in hopeless dejection. a thousand times she reproached herself with the easy compliance, by which she permitted her favourite to stay behind her. "had not my fondness," said she, "lessened my authority, pekuah had not dared to talk of her terrours. she ought to have feared me more than spectres. a severe look would have overpowered her; a peremptory command would have compelled obedience. why did foolish indulgence prevail upon me? why did i not speak, and refuse to hear?" "great princess," said imlac, "do not reproach yourself for your virtue, or consider that as blamable by which evil has accidentally been caused. your tenderness for the timidity of pekuah was generous and kind. when we act according to our duty, we commit the event to him, by whose laws our actions are governed, and who will suffer none to be finally punished for obedience. when, in prospect of some good, whether natural or moral, we break the rules prescribed us, we withdraw from the direction of superiour wisdom, and take all consequences upon ourselves. man cannot so far know the connexion of causes and events, as that he may venture to do wrong, in order to do right. when we pursue our end by lawful means, we may always console our miscarriage by the hope of future recompense. when we consult only our own policy, and attempt to find a nearer way to good, by overleaping the settled boundaries of right and wrong, we cannot be happy even by success, because we cannot escape the consciousness of our fault; but, if we miscarry, the disappointment is irremediably imbittered. how comfortless is the sorrow of him, who feels, at once, the pangs of guilt, and the vexation of calamity, which guilt has brought upon him? "consider, princess, what would have been your condition, if the lady pekuah had entreated to accompany you, and, being compelled to stay in the tents, had been carried away; or how would you have borne the thought, if you had forced her into the pyramid, and she had died before you in agonies of terrour?" "had either happened," said nekayah, "i could not have endured life till now: i should have been tortured to madness by the remembrance of such cruelty, or must have pined away in abhorrence of myself." "this, at least," said imlac, "is the present reward of virtuous conduct, that no unlucky consequence can oblige us to repent it." chap. xxxv. the princess languishes for want of pekuah. nekayah, being thus reconciled to herself, found, that no evil is insupportable, but that which is accompanied with consciousness of wrong. she was, from that time, delivered from the violence of tempestuous sorrow, and sunk into silent pensiveness and gloomy tranquillity. she sat, from morning to evening, recollecting all that had been done or said by her pekuah; treasured up, with care, every trifle on which pekuah had set an accidental value, and which might recall to mind any little incident or careless conversation. the sentiments of her, whom she now expected to see no more, were treasured in her memory as rules of life, and she deliberated to no other end, than to conjecture, on any occasion, what would have been the opinion and counsel of pekuah. the women, by whom she was attended, knew nothing of her real condition, and, therefore, she could not talk to them, but with caution and reserve. she began to remit her curiosity, having no great care to collect notions which she had no convenience of uttering. rasselas endeavoured first to comfort, and afterwards to divert her; he hired musicians, to whom she seemed to listen, but did not hear them, and procured masters, to instruct her in various arts, whose lectures, when they visited her again, were again to be repeated. she had lost her taste of pleasure, and her ambition of excellence. and her mind, though forced into short excursions, always recurred to the image of her friend. imlac was, every morning, earnestly enjoined to renew his inquiries, and was asked, every night, whether he had yet heard of pekuah, till, not being able to return the princess the answer that she desired, he was less and less willing to come into her presence. she observed his backwardness, and commanded him to attend her. "you are not," said she, "to confound impatience with resentment, or to suppose, that i charge you with negligence, because i repine at your unsuccessfulness. i do not much wonder at your absence; i know that the unhappy are never pleasing, and that all naturally avoid the contagion of misery. to hear complaints is wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy; for who would cloud, by adventitious grief, the short gleams of gaiety which life allows us? or who, that is struggling under his own evils, will add to them the miseries of another? "the time is at hand, when none shall be disturbed any longer by the sighs of nekayah: my search after happiness is now at an end. i am resolved to retire from the world, with all its flatteries and deceits, and will hide myself in solitude, without any other care than to compose my thoughts, and regulate my hours by a constant succession of innocent occupations, till, with a mind purified from all earthly desires, i shall enter into that state, to which all are hastening, and in which i hope again to enjoy the friendship of pekuah." "do not entangle your mind," said imlac, "by irrevocable determinations, nor increase the burden of life by a voluntary accumulation of misery: the weariness of retirement will continue or increase, when the loss of pekuah is forgotten. that you have been deprived of one pleasure, is no very good reason for rejection of the rest." "since pekuah was taken from me," said the princess, "i have no pleasure to reject or to retain. she that has no one to love or trust has little to hope. she wants the radical principle of happiness. we may, perhaps, allow that what satisfaction this world can afford, must arise from the conjunction of wealth, knowledge, and goodness. wealth is nothing, but as it is bestowed, and knowledge nothing, but as it is communicated: they must, therefore, be imparted to others, and to whom could i now delight to impart them? goodness affords the only comfort, which can be enjoyed without a partner, and goodness may be practised in retirement." "how far solitude may admit goodness, or advance it, i shall not," replied imlac, "dispute at present. remember the confession of the pious hermit. you will wish to return into the world, when the image of your companion has left your thoughts." "that time," said nekayah, "will never come. the generous frankness, the modest obsequiousness, and the faithful secrecy of my dear pekuah, will always be more missed, as i shall live longer to see vice and folly." "the state of a mind, oppressed with a sudden calamity," said imlac, "is like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new-created earth, who, when the first night came upon them, supposed that day would never return. when the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. but they who restrain themselves from receiving comfort, do as the savages would have done, had they put out their eyes when it was dark. our minds, like our bodies, are in continual flux; something is hourly lost, and something acquired. to lose much, at once, is inconvenient to either, but, while the vital powers remain uninjured, nature will find the means of reparation. distance has the same effect on the mind, as on the eye, and, while we glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave behind us, is always lessening, and that which we approach increasing in magnitude. do not suffer life to stagnate; it will grow muddy for want of motion: commit yourself again to the current of the world; pekuah will vanish by degrees; you will meet, in your way, some other favourite, or learn to diffuse yourself in general conversation." "at least," said the prince, "do not despair before all remedies have been tried; the inquiry after the unfortunate lady is still continued, and shall be carried on with yet greater diligence, on condition that you will promise to wait a year for the event, without any unalterable resolution." nekayah thought this a reasonable demand, and made the promise to her brother, who had been advised, by imlac, to require it. imlac had, indeed, no great hope of regaining pekuah, but he supposed, that, if he could secure the interval of a year, the princess would be then in no danger of a cloister. chap. xxxvi. pekuah is still remembered. the progress of sorrow. nekayah, seeing that nothing was omitted for the recovery of her favourite, and having, by her promise, set her intention of retirement at a distance, began, imperceptibly, to return to common cares, and common pleasures. she rejoiced, without her own consent, at the suspension of her sorrows, and sometimes caught herself, with indignation, in the act of turning away her mind from the remembrance of her, whom yet she resolved never to forget. she then appointed a certain hour of the day for meditation on the merits and fondness of pekuah, and, for some weeks, retired constantly, at the time fixed, and returned with her eyes swollen, and her countenance clouded. by degrees, she grew less scrupulous, and suffered any important and pressing avocation to delay the tribute of daily tears. she then yielded to less occasions; sometimes forgot what she was, indeed, afraid to remember, and, at last, wholly released herself from the duty of periodical affliction. her real love of pekuah was yet not diminished. a thousand occurrences brought her back to memory, and a thousand wants, which nothing but the confidence of friendship can supply, made her frequently regretted. she, therefore, solicited imlac never to desist from inquiry, and to leave no art of intelligence untried, that, at least, she might have the comfort of knowing, that she did not suffer by negligence or sluggishness. "yet, what," said she, "is to be expected from our pursuit of happiness, when we find the state of life to be such, that happiness itself is the cause of misery? why should we endeavour to attain that, of which the possession cannot be secured? i shall, henceforward, fear to yield my heart to excellence, however bright, or to fondness, however tender, lest i should lose again what i have lost in pekuah." chap. xxxvii. the princess hears news of pekuah. in seven months, one of the messengers, who had been sent away, upon the day when the promise was drawn from the princess, returned, after many unsuccessful rambles, from the borders of nubia, with an account that pekuah was in the hands of an arab chief, who possessed a castle, or fortress, on the extremity of egypt. the arab, whose revenue was plunder, was willing to restore her, with her two attendants, for two hundred ounces of gold. the price was no subject of debate. the princess was in ecstasies when she heard that her favourite was alive, and might so cheaply be ransomed. she could not think of delaying, for a moment, pekuah's happiness or her own, but entreated her brother to send back the messenger with the sum required. imlac, being consulted, was not very confident of the veracity of the relater, and was still more doubtful of the arab's faith, who might, if he were too liberally trusted, detain, at once, the money and the captives. he thought it dangerous to put themselves in the power of the arab, by going into his district, and could not expect that the rover would so much expose himself as to come into the lower country, where he might be seized by the forces of the bassa. it is difficult to negotiate where neither will trust. but imlac, after some deliberation, directed the messenger to propose, that pekuah should be conducted, by ten horsemen, to the monastery of st. anthony, which is situated in the deserts of upper egypt, where she should be met by the same number, and her ransome should be paid. that no time might be lost, as they expected that the proposal would not be refused, they immediately began their journey to the monastery; and, when they arrived, imlac went forward with the former messenger to the arab's fortress. rasselas was desirous to go with them; but neither his sister nor imlac would consent. the arab, according to the custom of his nation, observed the laws of hospitality, with great exactness, to those who put themselves into his power, and, in a few days, brought pekuah, with her maids, by easy journeys, to the place appointed, where, receiving the stipulated price, he restored her, with great respect, to liberty and her friends, and undertook to conduct them back towards cairo, beyond all danger of robbery or violence. the princess and her favourite embraced each other with transport, too violent to be expressed, and went out together to pour the tears of tenderness in secret, and exchange professions of kindness and gratitude. after a few hours, they returned into the refectory of the convent, where, in the presence of the prior and his brethren, the prince required of pekuah the history of her adventures. chap. xxxviii. the adventures of the lady pekuah. "at what time, and in what manner i was forced away," said pekuah, "your servants have told you. the suddenness of the event struck me with surprise, and i was, at first, rather stupified, than agitated with any passion of either fear or sorrow. my confusion was increased by the speed and tumult of our flight, while we were followed by the turks, who, as it seemed, soon despaired to overtake us, or were afraid of those whom they made a show of menacing. "when the arabs saw themselves out of danger, they slackened their course, and, as i was less harassed by external violence, i began to feel more uneasiness in my mind. after some time, we stopped near a spring, shaded with trees, in a pleasant meadow, where we were set upon the ground, and offered such refreshments, as our masters were partaking. i was suffered to sit, with my maids, apart from the rest, and none attempted to comfort or insult us. here i first began to feel the full weight of my misery. the girls sat weeping in silence, and, from time to time, looked on me for succour. i knew not to what condition we were doomed, nor could conjecture where would be the place of our captivity, or whence to draw any hope of deliverance. i was in the hands of robbers and savages, and had no reason to suppose, that their pity was more than their justice, or that they would forbear the gratification of any ardour of desire, or caprice of cruelty. i, however, kissed my maids, and endeavoured to pacify them, by remarking, that we were yet treated with decency, and that, since we were now carried beyond pursuit, there was no danger of violence to our lives. "when we were to be set again on horseback, my maids clung round me, and refused to be parted, but i commanded them not to irritate those who had us in their power. we travelled, the remaining part of the day, through an unfrequented and pathless country, and came, by moonlight, to the side of a hill, where the rest of the troop was stationed. their tents were pitched, and their fires kindled, and our chief was welcomed, as a man much beloved by his dependants. "we were received into a large tent, where we found women, who had attended their husbands in the expedition. they set before us the supper, which they had provided, and i ate rather to encourage my maids than to comply with any appetite of my own. when the meat was taken away, they spread the carpets for repose. i was weary, and hoped to find, in sleep, that remission of distress which nature seldom denies. ordering myself, therefore, to be undressed, i observed that the women looked submissively attended. when my upper vest was taken off, they were, apparently, struck with the splendour of my clothes, and one of them timorously laid her hand upon the embroidery. she then went out, and, in a short time, came back with another woman, who seemed to be of higher rank and greater authority. she did, at her entrance, the usual act of reverence, and, taking me by the hand, placed me in a smaller tent, spread with finer carpets, where i spent the night quietly with my maids. "in the morning, as i was sitting on the grass, the chief of the troop came towards me. i rose up to receive him, and he bowed with great respect. 'illustrious lady,' said he, 'my fortune is better than i had presumed to hope; i am told, by my women, that i have a princess in my camp.' 'sir,' answered i, 'your women have deceived themselves and you; i am not a princess, but an unhappy stranger, who intended soon to have left this country, in which i am now to be imprisoned for ever.' 'whoever, or whencesoever, you are,' returned the arab, 'your dress, and that of your servants, show your rank to be high, and your wealth to be great. why should you, who can so easily procure your ransome, think yourself in danger of perpetual captivity? the purpose of my incursions is to increase my riches, or, more properly, to gather tribute. the sons of ishmael are the natural and hereditary lords of this part of the continent, which is usurped by late invaders, and low-born tyrants, from whom we are compelled to take, by the sword, what is denied to justice. the violence of war admits no distinction: the lance that is lifted at guilt and power, will, sometimes, fall on innocence and gentleness.' "'how little,' said i, 'did i expect that yesterday it should have fallen upon me!' "'misfortunes,' answered the arab, 'should always be expected. if the eye of hostility could learn reverence or pity, excellence, like yours, had been exempt from injury. but the angels of affliction spread their toils alike for the virtuous and the wicked, for the mighty and the mean. do not be disconsolate: i am not one of the lawless and cruel rovers of the desert; i know the rules of civil life: i will fix your ransome, give a passport to your messenger, and perform my stipulation, with nice punctuality.' "you will easily believe, that i was pleased with his courtesy: and, finding, that his predominant passion was desire of money, i began now to think my danger less, for i knew that no sum would be thought too great for the release of pekuah. i told him, that he should have no reason to charge me with ingratitude, if i was used with kindness, and that any ransome, which could be expected for a maid of common rank, would be paid; but that he must not persist to rate me as a princess. he said he would consider what he should demand, and then, smiling, bowed and retired. "soon after the women came about me, each contending to be more officious than the other, and my maids, themselves, were served with reverence. we travelled onwards by short journeys. on the fourth day the chief told me, that my ransome must be two hundred ounces of gold; which i not only promised him, but told him, that i would add fifty more, if i and my maids were honourably treated. "i never knew the power of gold before. from that time, i was the leader of the troop. the march of every day was longer, or shorter, as i commanded, and the tents were pitched where i chose to rest. we now had camels, and other conveniencies for travel; my own women were always at my side, and i amused myself with observing the manners of the vagrant nations, and with viewing remains of ancient edifices, with which these deserted countries appear to have been, in some distant age, lavishly embellished. "the chief of the band was a man far from illiterate: he was able to travel by the stars, or the compass, and had marked, in his erratick expeditions, such places as are most worthy the notice of a passenger. he observed to me, that buildings are always best preserved in places little frequented, and difficult of access: for, when once a country declines from its primitive splendour, the more inhabitants are left, the quicker ruin will be made. walls supply stones more easily than quarries, and palaces and temples will be demolished, to make stables of granite, and cottages of porphyry. chap. xxxix. the adventures of pekuah continued. "we wandered about, in this manner, for some weeks, whether, as our chief pretended, for my gratification, or, as i rather suspected, for some convenience of his own. i endeavoured to appear contented, where sullenness and resentment would have been of no use, and that endeavour conduced much to the calmness of my mind; but my heart was always with nekayah, and the troubles of the night much overbalanced the amusements of the day. my women, who threw all their cares upon their mistress, set their minds at ease, from the time when they saw me treated with respect, and gave themselves up to the incidental alleviations of our fatigue, without solicitude or sorrow. i was pleased with their pleasure, and animated with their confidence. my condition had lost much of its terrour, since i found that the arab ranged the country merely to get riches. avarice is an uniform and tractable vice: other intellectual distempers are different in different constitutions of mind; that which sooths the pride of one, will offend the pride of another; but to the favour of the covetous, there is a ready way: bring money, and nothing is denied. "at last we came to the dwelling of our chief, a strong and spacious house, built with stone, in an island of the nile, which lies, as i was told, under the tropick. 'lady,' said the arab, 'you shall rest, after your journey, a few weeks, in this place, where you are to consider yourself as sovereign. my occupation is war; i have, therefore, chosen this obscure residence, from which i can issue unexpected, and to which i can retire unpursued. you may now repose in security: here are few pleasures, but here is no danger.' he then led me into the inner apartments, and seating me on the richest couch, bowed to the ground. his women, who considered me as a rival, looked on me with malignity; but, being soon informed that i was a great lady, detained only for my ransome, they began to vie with each other in obsequiousness and reverence. "being again comforted with new assurances of speedy liberty, i was, for some days, diverted from impatience by the novelty of the place. the turrets overlooked the country to a great distance, and afforded a view of many windings of the stream. in the day, i wandered from one place to another, as the course of the sun varied the splendour of the prospect, and saw many things which i had never seen before. the crocodiles and river-horses, are common in this unpeopled region, and i often looked upon them with terrour, though i knew that they could not hurt me. for some time i expected to see mermaids and tritons, which, as imlac has told me, the european travellers have stationed in the nile, but no such beings ever appeared, and the arab, when i inquired after them, laughed at my credulity. "at night the arab always attended me to a tower, set apart for celestial observations, where he endeavoured to teach me the names and courses of the stars. i had no great inclination to this study, but an appearance of attention was necessary to please my instructer, who valued himself for his skill; and, in a little while, i found some employment requisite to beguile the tediousness of time, which was to be passed always amidst the same objects. i was weary of looking in the morning, on things from which i had turned away weary in the evening. i, therefore, was, at last, willing to observe the stars, rather than do nothing, but could not always compose my thoughts, and was very often thinking on nekayah, when others imagined me contemplating the sky. soon after the arab went upon another expedition, and then my only pleasure was to talk with my maids, about the accident by which we were carried away, and the happiness that we should all enjoy at the end of our captivity." "there were women in your arab's fortress," said the princess, "why did you not make them your companions, enjoy their conversation, and partake their diversions'? in a place, where they found business or amusement, why should you alone sit corroded with idle melancholy? or, why could not you bear, for a few months, that condition to which they were condemned for life?" "the diversions of the women," answered pekuah, "were only childish play, by which the mind, accustomed to stronger operations, could not be kept busy. i could do all which they delighted in doing by powers merely sensitive, while my intellectual faculties were flown to cairo. they ran, from room to room, as a bird hops, from wire to wire, in his cage. they danced for the sake of motion, as lambs frisk in a meadow. one sometimes pretended to be hurt, that the rest might be alarmed; or hid herself, that another might seek her. part of their time passed in watching the progress of light bodies, that floated on the river, and part, in marking the various forms into which clouds broke in the sky. "their business was only needlework in which i and my maids, sometimes helped them; but you know that the mind will easily straggle from the fingers, nor will you suspect that captivity and absence from nekayah could receive solace from silken flowers. "nor was much satisfaction to be hoped from their conversation: for of what could they be expected to talk? they had seen nothing; for they had lived, from early youth, in that narrow spot: of what they had not seen they could have no knowledge, for they could not read. they had no ideas but of the few things that were within their view, and had hardly names for any thing but their clothes and their food. as i bore a superiour character, i was often called to terminate their quarrels, which i decided as equitably as i could. if it could have amused me to hear the complaints of each against the rest, i might have been often detained by long stories; but the motives of their animosity were so small, that i could not listen without intercepting the tale." "how," said rasselas, "can the arab, whom you represented as a man of more than common accomplishments, take any pleasure in his seraglio, when it is filled only with women like these? are they exquisitely beautiful?" "they do not," said pekuah, "want that unaffecting and ignoble beauty, which may subsist without sprightliness or sublimity, without energy of thought, or dignity of virtue. but to a man, like the arab, such beauty was only a flower, casually plucked, and carelessly thrown away. whatever pleasures he might find among them, they were not those of friendship or society. when they were playing about him, he looked on them with inattentive superiority: when they vied for his regard, he sometimes turned away disgusted. as they had no knowledge, their talk could take nothing from the tediousness of life; as they had no choice, their fondness, or appearance of fondness, excited in him neither pride nor gratitude; he was not exalted in his own esteem by the smiles of a woman, who saw no other man, nor was much obliged by that regard, of which he could never know the sincerity, and which he might often perceive to be exerted, not so much to delight him, as to pain a rival. that which he gave, and they received, as love, was only a careless distribution of superfluous time, such love as man can bestow upon that which he despises, such as has neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow." "you have reason, lady, to think yourself happy," said imlac, "that you have been thus easily dismissed. how could a mind, hungry for knowledge, be willing, in an intellectual famine, to lose such a banquet as pekuah's conversation?" "i am inclined to believe," answered pekuah, "that he was, for sometime, in suspense; for, notwithstanding his promise, whenever i proposed to despatch a messenger to cairo, he found some excuse for delay. while i was detained in his house, he made many incursions into the neighbouring countries, and, perhaps, he would have refused to discharge me, had his plunder been equal to his wishes. he returned always courteous, related his adventures, delighted to hear my observations, and endeavoured to advance my acquaintance with the stars. when i importuned him to send away my letters, he soothed me with professions of honour and sincerity; and, when i could be no longer decently denied, put his troop again in motion, and left me to govern in his absence. i was much afflicted by this studied procrastination, and was sometimes afraid, that i should be forgotten; that you would leave cairo, and i must end my days in an island of the nile. "i grew, at last, hopeless and dejected, and cared so little to entertain him, that he, for awhile, more frequently talked with my maids. that he should fall in love with them, or with me, might have been equally fatal, and i was not much pleased with the growing friendship. my anxiety was not long; for, as i recovered some degree of cheerfulness, he returned to me, and i could not forbear to despise my former uneasiness. "he still delayed to send for my ransome, and would, perhaps, never have determined, had not your agent found his way to him. the gold, which he would not fetch, he could not reject, when it was offered. he hastened to prepare for our journey hither, like a man delivered from the pain of an intestine conflict. i took leave of my companions in the house, who dismissed me with cold indifference." nekayah, having heard her favourite's relation, rose and embraced her, and rasselas gave her a hundred ounces of gold, which she presented to the arab for the fifty that were promised. chap. xl. the history of a man of learning. they returned to cairo, and were so well pleased at finding themselves together, that none of them went much abroad. the prince began to love learning, and, one day, declared to imlac, that he intended to devote himself to science, and pass the rest of his days in literary solitude. "before you make your final choice," answered imlac, "you ought to examine its hazards, and converse with some of those who are grown old in the company of themselves. i have just left the observatory of one of the most learned astronomers in the world, who has spent forty years in unwearied attention to the motions and appearances of the celestial bodies, and has drawn out his soul in endless calculations. he admits a few friends, once a month, to hear his deductions, and enjoy his discoveries. i was introduced, as a man of knowledge worthy of his notice. men of various ideas, and fluent conversation, are commonly welcome to those whose thoughts have been long fixed upon a single point, and who find the images of other things stealing away. i delighted him with my remarks; he smiled at the narrative of my travels, and was glad to forget the constellations, and descend, for a moment, into the lower world. "on the next day of vacation i renewed my visit, and was so fortunate as to please him again. he relaxed, from that time, the severity of his rule, and permitted me to enter at my own choice. i found him always busy, and always glad to be relieved. as each knew much which the other was desirous of learning, we exchanged our notions with great delight. i perceived that i had, every day, more of his confidence, and always found new cause of admiration in the profundity of his mind. his comprehension is vast, his memory capacious and retentive, his discourse is methodical, and his expression clear. "his integrity and benevolence are equal to his learning. his deepest researches, and most favourite studies, are willingly interrupted for any opportunity of doing good, by his counsel or his riches. to his closest retreat, at his most busy moments, all are admitted that want his assistance: 'for, though i exclude idleness and pleasure, i will never,' says he, bar my doors against charity. to man is permitted the contemplation of the skies, but the practice of virtue is commanded.'" "surely," said the princess, "this man is happy." "i visited him," said imlac, "with more and more frequency, and was every time more enamoured of his conversation: he was sublime without haughtiness, courteous without formality, and communicative without ostentation. i was, at first, great princess, of your opinion; thought him the happiest of mankind; and often congratulated him on the blessing that he enjoyed. he seemed to hear nothing with indifference but the praises of his condition, to which he always returned a general answer, and diverted the conversation to some other topick. "amidst this willingness to be pleased, and labour to please, i had, quickly, reason to imagine, that some painful sentiment pressed upon his mind. he often looked up earnestly towards the sun, and let his voice fall in the midst of his discourse. he would sometimes, when we were alone, gaze upon me, in silence, with the air of a man, who longed to speak what he was yet resolved to suppress. he would often send for me, with vehement injunctions of haste, though, when i came to him, he had nothing extraordinary to say. and sometimes, when i was leaving him, would call me back, pause a few moments, and then dismiss me." chap. xli. the astronomer discovers the cause of his uneasiness. "at last the time came, when the secret burst his reserve. we were sitting together, last night, in the turret of his house, watching the emersion of a satellite of jupiter. a sudden tempest clouded the sky, and disappointed our observation. we sat awhile silent in the dark, and then he addressed himself to me in these words: 'imlac, i have long considered thy friendship as the greatest blessing of my life. integrity, without knowledge, is weak and useless; and knowledge, without integrity, is dangerous and dreadful. i have found in thee all the qualities requisite for trust--benevolence, experience, and fortitude. i have long discharged an office, which i must soon quit at the call of nature, and shall rejoice, in the hour of imbecility and pain, to devolve it upon thee.' "i thought myself honoured by this testimony, and protested, that whatever could conduce to his happiness, would add likewise to mine. "'hear, imlac, what thou wilt not, without difficulty, credit. i have possessed, for five years, the regulation of weather, and the distribution of the seasons: the sun has listened to my dictates, and passed, from tropick to tropick, by my direction; the clouds, at my call, have poured their waters, and the nile has overflowed at my command; i have restrained the rage of the dog-star, and mitigated the fervours of the crab. the winds alone, of all the elemental powers, have, hitherto, refused my authority, and multitudes have perished by equinoctial tempests, which i found myself unable to prohibit or restrain. i have administered this great office with exact justice, and made, to the different nations of the earth, an impartial dividend of rain and sunshine. what must have been the misery of half the globe, if i had limited the clouds to particular regions, or confined the sun to either side of the equator!' chap. xlii. the opinion of the astronomer is explained and justified. "i suppose he discovered in me, through the obscurity of the room, some tokens of amazement and doubt, for, after a short pause, he proceeded thus: "'not to be easily credited will neither surprise nor offend me; for i am, probably, the first of human beings to whom this trust has been imparted. nor do i know whether to deem this distinction a reward or punishment; since i have possessed it, i have been far less happy than before, and nothing but the consciousness of good intention could have enabled me to support the weariness of unremitted vigilance.' "how long, sir, said i, has this great office been in your hands?" "'about ten years ago,' said he, 'my daily observations of the changes of the sky, led me to consider, whether, if i had the power of the seasons, i could confer greater plenty upon the inhabitants of the earth. this contemplation fastened on my mind, and i sat, days and nights, in imaginary dominion, pouring, upon this country and that, the showers of fertility, and seconding every fall of rain with a due proportion of sunshine. i had yet only the will to do good, and did not imagine that i should ever have the power. "'one day, as i was looking on the fields withering with heat, i felt, in my mind, a sudden wish that i could send rain on the southern mountains, and raise the nile to an inundation. in the hurry of my imagination, i commanded rain to fall, and, by comparing the time of my command with that of the inundation, i found, that the clouds had listened to my lips.' "might not some other cause," said i, "produce this concurrence? the nile does not always rise on the same day. "'do not believe,' said he, with impatience, 'that such objections could escape me: i reasoned long against my own conviction, and laboured against truth with the utmost obstinacy. i sometimes suspected myself of madness, and should not have dared to impart this secret, but to a man like you, capable of distinguishing the wonderful from the impossible, and the incredible from the false.' "why, sir," said i, "do you call that incredible, which you know, or think you know, to be true? "'because,' said he, 'i cannot prove it by any external evidence; and i know, too well, the laws of demonstration, to think that my conviction ought to influence another, who cannot, like me, be conscious of its force. i, therefore, shall not attempt to gain credit by disputation. it is sufficient, that i feel this power, that i have long possessed, and every day exerted it. but the life of man is short, the infirmities of age increase upon me, and the time will soon come, when the regulator of the year must mingle with the dust. the care of appointing a successour has long disturbed me; the night and the day have been spent in comparisons of all the characters which have come to my knowledge, and i have yet found none so worthy as thyself.' chap. xliii. the astronomer leaves imlac his directions. "'hear, therefore, what i shall impart, with attention, such as the welfare of the world requires. if the task of a king be considered as difficult, who has the care only of a few millions, to whom he cannot do much good or harm, what must be the anxiety of him, on whom depends the action of the elements, and the great gifts of light and heat!--hear me, therefore, with attention. "'i have diligently considered the position of the earth and sun, and formed innumerable schemes, in which i changed their situation. i have sometimes turned aside the axis of the earth, and sometimes varied the ecliptick of the sun: but i have found it impossible to make a disposition, by which the world may be advantaged; what one region gains, another loses by an imaginable alteration, even without considering the distant parts of the solar system, with which ye are unacquainted. do not, therefore, in thy administration of the year, indulge thy pride by innovation; do not please thyself with thinking, that thou canst make thyself renowned to all future ages, by disordering the seasons. the memory of mischief is no desirable fame. much less will it become thee to let kindness or interest prevail. never rob other countries of rain to pour it on thine own. for us the nile is sufficient.' "i promised, that when i possessed the power, i would use it with inflexible integrity; and he dismissed me, pressing my hand. 'my heart,' said he, 'will be now at rest, and my benevolence will no more destroy my quiet: i have found a man of wisdom and virtue, to whom i can cheerfully bequeath the inheritance of the sun.'" the prince heard this narration with very serious regard; but the princess smiled, and pekuah convulsed herself with laughter. "ladies," said imlac, "to mock the heaviest of human afflictions, is neither charitable nor wise. few can attain this man's knowledge, and few practise his virtues; but all may suffer his calamity. of the uncertainties of our present state, the most dreadful and alarming is the uncertain continuance of reason." the princess was recollected, and the favourite was abashed. rasselas, more deeply affected, inquired of imlac, whether he thought such maladies of the mind frequent, and how they were contracted. chap. xliv. the dangerous prevalence of imagination. "disorders of intellect," answered imlac, "happen much more often than superficial observers will easily believe. perhaps, if we speak with rigorous exactness, no human mind is in its right state[a]. there is no man, whose imagination does not, sometimes, predominate over his reason, who can regulate his attention wholly by his will, and whose ideas will come and go at his command. no man will be found, in whose mind airy notions do not, sometimes, tyrannize, and force him to hope or fear beyond the limits of sober probability. all power of fancy over reason, is a degree of insanity; but, while this power is such as we can control and repress, it is not visible to others, nor considered as any deprivation of the mental faculties: it is not pronounced madness, but when it becomes ungovernable, and apparently influences speech or action. "to indulge the power of fiction, and send imagination out upon the wing, is often the sport of those who delight too much in silent speculation. when we are alone we are not always busy; the labour of excogitation is too violent to last long; the ardour of inquiry will, sometimes, give way to idleness or satiety. he who has nothing external that can divert him, must find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive himself what he is not; for who is pleased with what he is? he then expatiates in boundless futurity, and culls, from all imaginable conditions, that which, for the present moment, he should most desire; amuses his desires with impossible enjoyments, and confers upon his pride unattainable dominion. the mind dances from scene to scene, unites all pleasures in all combinations, and riots in delights, which nature and fortune, with all their bounty, cannot bestow. "in time, some particular train of ideas fixes the attention; all other intellectual gratifications are rejected; the mind, in weariness or leisure, recurs constantly to the favourite conception, and feasts on the luscious falsehood, whenever she is offended with the bitterness of truth. by degrees, the reign of fancy is confirmed; she grows first imperious, and in time despotick. then fictions begin to operate as realities, false opinions fasten upon the mind, and life passes in dreams of rapture or of anguish. "this, sir, is one of the dangers of solitude, which the hermit has confessed not always to promote goodness, and the astronomer's misery has proved to be not always propitious to wisdom." "i will no more," said the favourite, "imagine myself the queen of abissinia. i have often spent the hours, which the princess gave to my own disposal, in adjusting ceremonies, and regulating the court; i have repressed the pride of the powerful, and granted the petitions of the poor; i have built new palaces in more happy situations, planted groves upon the tops of mountains, and have exulted in the beneficence of royalty, till, when the princess entered, i had almost forgotten to bow down before her." "and i," said the princess, "will not allow myself any more to play the shepherdess in my waking dreams. i have often soothed my thoughts with the quiet and innocence of pastoral employments, till i have, in my chamber, heard the winds whistle, and the sheep bleat: sometimes freed the lamb entangled in the thicket, and, sometimes, with my crook, encountered the wolf. i have a dress like that of the village maids, which i put on to help my imagination, and a pipe, on which i play softly, and suppose myself followed by my flocks." "i will confess," said the prince, "an indulgence of fantastick delight more dangerous than yours. i have frequently endeavoured to image the possibility of a perfect government, by which all wrong should be restrained, all vice reformed, and all the subjects preserved in tranquillity and innocence. this thought produced innumerable schemes of reformation, and dictated many useful regulations and salutary edicts. this has been the sport, and sometimes the labour, of my solitude; and i start, when i think, with how little anguish i once supposed the death of my father and my brothers." "such," said imlac, "are the effects of visionary schemes; when we first form them, we know them to be absurd, but familiarize them by degrees, and, in time, lose sight of their folly." [a] see traite médico-philosophique sur l'aliénation mentale, par pinel. dr. willis defined, in remarkable accordance with this case in rasselas, insanity to be the tendency of a mind to cherish one idea, or one set of ideas, to the exclusion of others.--ed. chap. xlv. they discourse with an old man. the evening was now far past, and they rose to return home. as they walked along the bank of the nile, delighted with the beams of the moon quivering on the water, they saw, at a small distance, an old man, whom the prince had often heard in the assembly of the sages. "yonder," said he, "is one whose years have calmed his passions, but not clouded his reason: let us close the disquisitions of the night, by inquiring, what are his sentiments of his own state, that we may know whether youth alone is to struggle with vexation, and whether any better hope remains for the latter part of life." here the sage approached and saluted them. they invited him to join their walk, and prattled awhile, as acquaintance that had unexpectedly met one another. the old man was cheerful and talkative, and the way seemed short in his company. he was pleased to find himself not disregarded, accompanied them to their house, and, at the prince's request, entered with them. they placed him in the seat of honour, and set wine and conserves before him. "sir," said the princess, "an evening walk must give, to a man of learning, like you, pleasures which ignorance and youth can hardly conceive. you know the qualities and the causes of all that you behold, the laws by which the river flows, the periods in which the planets perform their revolutions. every thing must supply you with contemplation, and renew the consciousness of your own dignity." "lady," answered he, "let the gay and the vigorous expect pleasure in their excursions; it is enough that age can obtain ease. to me, the world has lost its novelty: i look round, and see what i remember to have seen in happier days. i rest against a tree, and consider, that in the same shade i once disputed upon the annual overflow of the nile, with a friend who is now silent in the grave. i cast my eyes upwards, fix them on the changing moon, and think, with pain, on the vicissitudes of life. i have ceased to take much delight in physical truth; for what have i to do with those things which i am soon to leave?" "you may, at least, recreate yourself," said imlac, "with the recollection of an honourable and useful life, and enjoy the praise which all agree to give you." "praise," said the sage, with a sigh, "is, to an old man, an empty sound. i have neither mother to be delighted with the reputation of her son, nor wife to partake the honours of her husband. i have outlived my friends and my rivals. nothing is now of much importance; for i cannot extend my interest beyond myself. youth is delighted with applause, because it is considered, as the earnest of some future good, and because the prospect of life is far extended; but to me, who am now declining to decrepitude, there is little to be feared from the malevolence of men, and yet less to be hoped from their affection or esteem. something they may yet take away, but they can give me nothing. riches would now be useless, and high employment would be pain. my retrospect of life recalls to my view many opportunities of good neglected, much time squandered upon trifles, and more lost in idleness and vacancy. i leave many great designs unattempted, and many great attempts unfinished. my mind is burdened with no heavy crime, and, therefore, i compose myself to tranquillity; endeavour to abstract my thoughts from hopes and cares, which, though reason knows them to be vain, still try to keep their old possession of the heart; expect, with serene humility, that hour which nature cannot long delay; and hope to possess, in a better state, that happiness, which here i could not find, and that virtue, which here i have not attained." he rose and went away, leaving his audience not much elated with the hope of long life. the prince consoled himself with remarking, that it was not reasonable to be disappointed by this account; for age had never been considered as the season of felicity, and, if it was possible to be easy in decline and weakness, it was likely that the days of vigour and alacrity might be happy; that the noon of life might be bright, if the evening could be calm. the princess suspected that age was querulous and malignant, and delighted to repress the expectations of those, who had newly entered the world. she had seen the possessours of estates look with envy on their heirs, and known many who enjoyed pleasure no longer than they could confine it to themselves. pekuah conjectured, that the man was older than he appeared, and was willing to impute his complaints to delirious dejection: or else supposed that he had been unfortunate, and was, therefore, discontented: "for nothing," said she, "is more common than to call our own condition, the condition of life." imlac, who had no desire to see them depressed, smiled at the comforts which they could so readily procure to themselves, and remembered, that, at the same age, he was equally confident of unmingled prosperity, and equally fertile of consolatory expedients. he forbore to force upon them unwelcome knowledge, which time itself would too soon impress. the princess and her lady retired; the madness of the astronomer hung on their minds, and they desired imlac to enter upon his office, and delay next morning, the rising of the sun. chap. xlvi. the princess and pekuah visit the astronomer. the princess and pekuah having talked in private of imlac's astronomer, thought his character at once so amiable and so strange, that they could not be satisfied without a nearer knowledge; and imlac was requested to find the means of bringing them together. this was somewhat difficult; the philosopher had never received any visits from women, though he lived in a city that had in it many europeans, who followed the manners of their own countries, and many, from other parts of the world, that lived there with european liberty. the ladies would not be refused, and several schemes were proposed for the accomplishment of their design. it was proposed to introduce them as strangers in distress, to whom the sage was always accessible; but, after some deliberation, it appeared, that by this artifice, no acquaintance could be formed, for their conversation would be short, and they could not decently importune him often. "this," said rasselas, "is true; but i have yet a stronger objection against the misrepresentation of your state. i have always considered it as treason against the great republick of human nature, to make any man's virtues the means of deceiving him, whether on great or little occasions. all imposture weakens confidence, and chills benevolence. when the sage finds that you are not what you seemed, he will feel the resentment natural to a man who, conscious of great abilities, discovers that he has been tricked by understandings meaner than his own, and, perhaps, the distrust, which he can never afterwards wholly lay aside, may stop the voice of counsel, and close the hand of charity; and where will you find the power of restoring his benefactions to mankind, or his peace to himself?" to this no reply was attempted, and imlac began to hope that their curiosity would subside; but, next day, pekuah told him, she had now found an honest pretence for a visit to the astronomer, for she would solicit permission to continue, under him, the studies in which she had been initiated by the arab, and the princess might go with her, either as a fellow-student, or because a woman could not decently come alone. "i am afraid," said imlac, "that he will be soon weary of your company: men, advanced far in knowledge do not love to repeat the elements of their art, and i am not certain that even of the elements, as he will deliver them, connected with inferences, and mingled with reflections, you are a very capable auditress." "that," said pekuah, "must be my care: i ask of you only to take me thither. my knowledge is, perhaps, more than you imagine it, and, by concurring always with his opinions, i shall make him think it greater than it is." the astronomer, in pursuance of this resolution, was told, that a foreign lady, travelling in search of knowledge, had heard of his reputation, and was desirous to become his scholar. the uncommonness of the proposal raised, at once, his surprise and curiosity; and when, after a short deliberation, he consented to admit her, he could not stay, without impatience, till the next day. the ladies dressed themselves magnificently, and were attended by imlac to the astronomer, who was pleased to see himself approached with respect by persons of so splendid an appearance. in the exchange of the first civilities, he was timorous and bashful; but, when the talk became regular, he recollected his powers, and justified the character which imlac had given. inquiring of pekuah, what could have turned her inclination toward astronomy, he received from her a history of her adventure at the pyramid, and of the time passed in the arab's island. she told her tale with ease and elegance, and her conversation took possession of his heart. the discourse was then turned to astronomy; pekuah displayed what she knew: he looked upon her as a prodigy of genius, and entreated her not to desist from a study, which she had so happily begun. they came again and again, and were, every time, more welcome than before. the sage endeavoured to amuse them, that they might prolong their visits, for he found his thoughts grow brighter in their company; the clouds of solicitude vanished by degrees, as he forced himself to entertain them, and he grieved, when he was left, at their departure, to his old employment of regulating the seasons. the princess and her favourite had now watched his lips for several months, and could not catch a single word, from which they could judge whether he continued, or not, in the opinion of his preternatural commission. they often contrived to bring him to an open declaration; but he easily eluded all their attacks, and on which side soever they pressed him, escaped from them to some other topick. as their familiarity increased, they invited him often to the house of imlac, where they distinguished him by extraordinary respect. he began, gradually, to delight in sublunary pleasures. he came early, and departed late; laboured to recommend himself by assiduity and compliance; excited their curiosity after new arts, that they might still want his assistance; and, when they made any excursion of pleasure, or inquiry, entreated to attend them. by long experience of his integrity and wisdom, the prince and his sister were convinced that he might be trusted without danger; and, lest he should draw any false hopes from the civilities which he received, discovered to him their condition, with the motives of their journey; and required his opinion on the choice of life. "of the various conditions which the world spreads before you, which you shall prefer," said the sage, "i am not able to instruct you. i can only tell, that i have chosen wrong. i have passed my time in study, without experience; in the attainment of sciences, which can, for the most part, be but remotely useful to mankind. i have purchased knowledge at the expense of all the common comforts of life: i have missed the endearing elegance of female friendship, and the happy commerce of domestick tenderness. if i have obtained any prerogatives above other students, they have been accompanied with fear, disquiet, and scrupulosity; but, even of these prerogatives, whatever they were, i have, since my thoughts have been diversified by more intercourse with the world, begun to question the reality. when i have been, for a few days, lost in pleasing dissipation, i am always tempted to think that my inquiries have ended in errour, and that i have suffered much, and suffered it in vain." imlac was delighted to find that the sage's understanding was breaking through its mists, and resolved to detain him from the planets, till he should forget his task of ruling them, and reason should recover its original influence. from this time the astronomer was received into familiar friendship, and partook of all their projects and pleasures: his respect kept him attentive, and the activity of rasselas did not leave much time unengaged. something was always to be done; the day was spent in making observations which furnished talk for the evening, and the evening was closed with a scheme for the morrow. the sage confessed to imlac, that since he had mingled in the gay tumults of life, and divided his hours by a succession of amusements, he found the conviction of his authority over the skies fade gradually from his mind, and began to trust less to an opinion which he never could prove to others, and which he now found subject to variation, from causes in which reason had no part. "if i am accidentally left alone for a few hours," said he, "my inveterate persuasion rushes upon my soul, and my thoughts are chained down by some irresistible violence; but they are soon disentangled by the prince's conversation, and instantaneously released at the entrance of pekuah. i am like a man habitually afraid of spectres, who is set at ease by a lamp, and wonders at the dread which harassed him in the dark; yet, if his lamp be extinguished, feels again the terrours which he knows, that when it is light he shall feel no more. but i am sometimes afraid, lest i indulge my quiet by criminal negligence, and voluntarily forget the great charge with which i am intrusted. if i favour myself in a known errour, or am determined, by my own ease, in a doubtful question of this importance, how dreadful is my crime!" "no disease of the imagination," answered imlac, "is so difficult of cure, as that which is complicated with the dread of guilt: fancy and conscience then act interchangeably upon us, and so often shift their places, that the illusions of one are not distinguished from the dictates of the other. if fancy presents images not moral or religious, the mind drives them away when they give it pain, but when melancholick notions take the form of duty, they lay hold on the faculties without opposition, because we are afraid to exclude or banish them. for this reason, the superstitious are often melancholy, and the melancholy almost always superstitious. "but do not let the suggestions of timidity overpower your better reason: the danger of neglect can be but as the probability of the obligation, which, when you consider it with freedom, you find very little, and that little growing every day less. open your heart to the influence of the light, which, from time to time, breaks in upon you: when scruples importune you, which you, in your lucid moments know to be vain, do not stand to parley, but fly to business or to pekuah, and keep this thought always prevalent, that you are only one atom of the mass of humanity, and have neither such virtue nor vice, as that you should be singled out for supernatural favours or afflictions." chap. xlvii. the prince enters, and brings a new topick. "all this," said the astronomer, "i have often thought, but my reason has been so long subjugated by an uncontroulable and overwhelming idea, that it durst not confide in its own decisions. i now see how fatally i betrayed my quiet, by suffering chimeras to prey upon me in secret; but melancholy shrinks from communication, and i never found a man before, to whom i could impart my troubles, though i had been certain of relief. i rejoice to find my own sentiments confirmed by yours, who are not easily deceived, and can have no motive or purpose to deceive. i hope that time and variety will dissipate the gloom that has so long surrounded me, and the latter part of my days will be spent in peace." "your learning and virtue," said imlac, "may justly give you hopes." rasselas then entered with the princess and pekuah, and inquired, whether they had contrived any new diversion for the next day? "such," said nekayah, "is the state of life, that none are happy, but by the anticipation of change: the change itself is nothing: when we have made it, the next wish is to change again. the world is not yet exhausted; let me see something to-morrow, which i never saw before." "variety," said rasselas, "is so necessary to content, that even the happy valley disgusted me by the recurrence of its luxuries; yet i could not forbear to reproach myself with impatience, when i saw the monks of st. anthony support, without complaint, a life not of uniform delight, but uniform hardship." "those men," answered imlac, "are less wretched in their silent convent, than the abissinian princes in their prison of pleasure. whatever is done by the monks is incited by an adequate and reasonable motive. their labour supplies them with necessaries; it, therefore, cannot be omitted, and is certainly rewarded. their devotion prepares them for another state, and reminds them of its approach, while it fits them for it. their time is regularly distributed; one duty succeeds another, so that they are not left open to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the shades of listless inactivity. there is a certain task to be performed at an appropriated hour; and their toils are cheerful, because they consider them as acts of piety, by which they are always advancing towards endless felicity." "do you think," said nekayah, "that the monastick rule is a more holy and less imperfect state than any other? may not he equally hope for future happiness, who converses openly with mankind, who succours the distressed by his charity, instructs the ignorant by his learning, and contributes, by his industry, to the general system of life: even though he should omit some of the mortifications which are practised in the cloister, and allow himself such harmless delights, as his condition may place within his reach." "this," said imlac, "is a question which has long divided the wise, and perplexed the good. i am afraid to decide on either part. he that lives well in the world, is better than he that lives well in a monastery. but, perhaps, every one is not able to stem the temptations of publick life; and, if he cannot conquer, he may properly retreat. some have little power to do good, and have, likewise, little strength to resist evil. many are weary of their conflicts with adversity, and are willing to eject those passions which have long busied them in vain. and many are dismissed, by age and disease, from the more laborious duties of society. in monasteries, the weak and timorous may be happily sheltered, the weary may repose, and the penitent may meditate. those retreats of prayer and contemplation have something so congenial to the mind of man, that, perhaps, there is scarcely one that does not propose to close his life in pious abstraction with a few associates, serious as himself." "such," said pekuah, "has often been my wish; and i have heard the princess declare, that she should not willingly die in a crowd." "the liberty of using harmless pleasures," proceeded imlac, "will not be disputed; but it is still to be examined, what pleasures are harmless. the evil of any pleasure that nekayah can image, is not in the act itself, but in its consequences. pleasure, in itself harmless, may become mischievous, by endearing to us a state which we know to be transient and probatory, and withdrawing our thoughts from that, of which every hour brings us nearer to the beginning, and of which no length of time will bring us to the end. mortification is not virtuous in itself, nor has any other use, but that it disengages us from the allurements of sense. in the state of future perfection, to which we all aspire, there will be pleasure without danger, and security without restraint." the princess was silent, and rasselas, turning to the astronomer, asked him, whether he could not delay her retreat, by showing her something which she had not seen before. "your curiosity," said the sage, "has been so general, and your pursuit of knowledge so vigorous, that novelties are not now very easily to be found; but what you can no longer procure from the living, may be given by the dead. among the wonders of this country are the catacombs, or the ancient repositories, in which the bodies of the earliest generations were lodged, and where, by the virtue of the gums which embalmed them, they yet remain without corruption." "i know not," said rasselas, "what pleasure the sight of the catacombs can afford; but, since nothing else offers, i am resolved to view them, and shall place this with many other things which i have done, because i would do something." they hired a guard of horsemen, and the next day visited the catacombs. when they were about to descend into the sepulchral caves, "pekuah," said the princess, "we are now again invading the habitations of the dead: i know that you will stay behind; let me find you safe when i return." "no, i will not be left," answered pekuah; "i will go down between you and the prince." they then all descended, and roved, with wonder, through the labyrinth of subterraneous passages, where the bodies were laid in rows on either side. chap. xlviii. imlac discourses on the nature of the soul. "what reason," said the prince, "can be given, why the egyptians should thus expensively preserve those carcasses which some nations consume with fire, others lay to mingle with the earth, and all agree to remove from their sight, as soon as decent rites can be performed?" "the original of ancient customs," said imlac "is commonly unknown; for the practice often continues when the cause has ceased; and, concerning superstitious ceremonies, it is vain to conjecture; for what reason did not dictate, reason cannot explain. i have long believed that the practice of embalming arose only from tenderness to the remains of relations or friends; and to this opinion i am more inclined, because it seems impossible that this care should have been general: had all the dead been embalmed, their repositories must, in time, have been more spacious than the dwellings of the living. i suppose only the rich or honourable were secured from corruption, and the rest left to the course of nature. "but it is commonly supposed, that the egyptians believed the soul to live as long as the body continued undissolved, and, therefore, tried this method of eluding death." "could the wise egyptians," said nekayah, "think so grossly of the soul? if the soul could once survive its separation, what could it afterwards receive or suffer from the body?" "the egyptians would, doubtless, think erroneously," said the astronomer, "in the darkness of heathenism, and the first dawn of philosophy. the nature of the soul is still disputed, amidst all our opportunities of clearer knowledge; some yet say, that it may be material, who, nevertheless, believe it to be immortal." "some," answered imlac, "have, indeed, said, that the soul is material, but i can scarcely believe that any man has thought it, who knew how to think; for all the conclusions of reason enforce the immateriality of mind, and all the notices of sense and investigations of science concur to prove the unconsciousness of matter. "it was never supposed that cogitation is inherent in matter, or that every particle is a thinking being. yet, if any part of matter be devoid of thought, what part can we suppose to think? matter can differ from matter only in form, density, bulk, motion, and direction of motion: to which of these, however varied or combined, can consciousness be annexed? to be round or square, to be solid or fluid, to be great or little, to be moved slowly or swiftly one way or another, are modes of material existence, all equally alien from the nature of cogitation. if matter be once without thought, it can only be made to think by some new modification, but all the modifications which it can admit, are equally unconnected with cogitative powers." "but the materialists," said the astronomer, "urge, that matter may have qualities, with which we are unacquainted." "he who will determine," returned imlac, "against that which he knows, because there may be something, which he knows not; he that can set hypothetical possibility against acknowledged certainty, is not to be admitted among reasonable beings. all that we know of matter is, that matter is inert, senseless, and lifeless; and, if this conviction cannot be opposed but by referring us to something that we know not, we have all the evidence that human intellect can admit. if that which is known may be overruled by that which is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can arrive at certainty." "yet let us not," said the astronomer, "too arrogantly limit the creator's power." "it is no limitation of omnipotence," replied the poet, "to suppose that one thing is not consistent with another; that the same proposition cannot be, at once, true and false; that the same number cannot be even and odd; that cogitation cannot be conferred on that which is created incapable of cogitation." "i know not," said nekayah, "any great use of this question. does that immateriality, which, in my opinion, you have sufficiently proved, necessarily include eternal duration?" "of immateriality," said imlac, "our ideas are negative, and, therefore, obscure. immateriality seems to imply a natural power of perpetual duration, as a consequence of exemption from all causes of decay: whatever perishes is destroyed by the solution of its contexture, and separation of its parts; nor can we conceive how that which has no parts, and, therefore, admits no solution, can be naturally corrupted or impaired." "i know not," said rasselas, "how to conceive any thing without extension; what is extended must have parts, and you allow, that whatever has parts may be destroyed." "consider your own conceptions," replied imlac, "and the difficulty will be less. you will find substance without extension. an ideal form is no less real than material bulk: yet an ideal form has no extension. it is no less certain, when you think on a pyramid, that your mind possesses the idea of a pyramid, than that the pyramid itself is standing. what space does the idea of a pyramid occupy more than the idea of a grain of corn? or how can either idea suffer laceration? as is the effect, such is the cause: as thought, such is the power that thinks; a power impassive and indiscerptible." "but the being," said nekayah, "whom i fear to name, the being which made the soul, can destroy it." "he, surely, can destroy it," answered imlac, "since, however unperishable, it receives from a superiour nature its power of duration. that it will not perish by any inherent cause of decay, or principle of corruption, may be shown by philosophy; but philosophy can tell no more. that it will not be annihilated by him that made it, we must humbly learn from higher authority." the whole assembly stood, awhile, silent and collected. "let us return," said rasselas, "from this scene of mortality. how gloomy would be these mansions of the dead to him who did not know that he should never die; that what now acts shall continue its agency, and what now thinks shall think on for ever. those that lie here, stretched before us, the wise and the powerful of ancient times, warn us to remember the shortness of our present state: they were, perhaps, snatched away, while they were busy, like us, in the choice of life." "to me," said the princess, "the choice of life is become less important; i hope, hereafter, to think only on the choice of eternity." they then hastened out of the caverns, and, under the protection of their guard, returned to cairo. chap. xlix. this conclusion, in which nothing is concluded. it was now the time of the inundation of the nile: a few days after their visit to the catacombs the river began to rise. they were confined to their house. the whole region, being under water, gave them no invitation to any excursions, and, being well supplied with materials for talk, they diverted themselves with comparisons of the different forms of life, which they had observed, and with various schemes of happiness, which each of them had formed. pekuah was never so much charmed with any place as the convent of st. anthony, where the arab restored her to the princess, and wished only to fill it with pious maidens, and to be made prioress of the order: she was weary of expectation and disgust, and would gladly be fixed in some unvariable state. the princess thought, that, of all sublunary things, knowledge was the best: she desired, first, to learn all sciences, and then purposed to found a college of learned women, in which she would preside; that, by conversing with the old, and educating the young, she might divide her time between the acquisition and communication of wisdom, and raise up, fur the next age, models of prudence, and patterns of piety. the prince desired a little kingdom, in which he might administer justice in his own person, and see all the parts of government with his own eyes; but he could never fix the limits of his dominion, and was always adding to the number of his subjects. imlac and the astronomer were contented to be driven along the stream of life, without directing their course to any particular port. of these wishes, that they had formed, they well knew that none could be obtained. they deliberated awhile what was to be done, and resolved, when the inundation should cease, to return to abissinia. letters. i.--to mr. james elphinston. sept. th, . dear sir,--you have, as i find by every kind of evidence, lost an excellent mother; and i hope you will not think me incapable of partaking of your grief. i have a mother, now eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, i must soon lose, unless it please god that she rather should mourn for me. i read the letters in which you relate your mother's death to mrs. strahan, and think i do myself honour, when i tell you that i read them with tears; but tears are neither to you, nor to me, of any farther use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. the business of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues, of which we are lamenting our deprivation. the greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard and excite and elevate his virtues. this your mother will still perform, if you diligently preserve the memory of her life, and of her death: a life, so far as i can learn, useful, wise, and innocent; and a death, resigned, peaceful, and holy. i cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness, by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her present state, look, with pleasure, upon every act of virtue, to which her instructions or example have contributed. whether this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of god: yet, surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our separation from those, whom we love, is merely corporeal; and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be made probable, that that union, which has received the divine approbation, shall continue to eternity. there is one expedient, by which you may, in some degree, continue her presence. if you write down minutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to veneration. to this, however painful for the present, i cannot but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear sir, your most obliged, most obedient, and most humble servant, sam. johnson. ii.--to mrs. thrale. london, aug. , . madam,--if you have really so good an opinion of me as you express, it will not be necessary to inform you how unwillingly i miss the opportunity of coming to brighthelmstone in mr. thrale's company; or, since i cannot do what i wish first, how eagerly i shall catch the second degree of pleasure, by coming to you and him, as soon as i can dismiss my work from my hands. i am afraid to make promises, even to myself; but i hope that the week after the next will be the end of my present business. when business is done, what remains but pleasure? and where should pleasure be sought, but under mrs. thrale's influence? do not blame me for a delay by which i must suffer so much, and by which i suffer alone. if you cannot think i am good, pray think i am mending, and that in time i may deserve to be, dear madam, your, &c. iii.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, july , . madam,--though i have been away so much longer than i purposed or expected, i have found nothing that withdraws my affections from the friends whom i left behind, or which makes me less desirous of reposing at that place, which your kindness and mr. thrale's allows me to call my home. miss lucy[a] is more kind and civil than i expected, and has raised my esteem by many excellencies, very noble and resplendent, though a little discoloured by hoary virginity. every thing else recalls to my remembrance years, in which i proposed what, i am afraid, i have not done, and promised myself pleasure which i have not found. but complaint can be of no use; and why then should i depress your hopes by my lamentations? i suppose it is the condition of humanity to design what never will be done, and to hope what never will be obtained. but, among the vain hopes, let me not number the hope which i have, of being long, dear madam, your, &c. [a] miss lucy porter, daughter to dr. johnson's wife, by a former husband. iv.--to the same. lichfield, august , . madam,--i set out on thursday morning, and found my companion, to whom i was very much a stranger, more agreeable than i expected. we went cheerfully forward, and passed the night at coventry. we came in late, and went out early; and, therefore, i did not send for my cousin tom: but i design to make him some amends for the omission. next day we came early to lucy, who was, i believe, glad to see us. she had saved her best gooseberries upon the tree for me; and, as steele says, "i was neither too proud nor too wise" to gather them. i have rambled a very little "inter fontes et flumina nota," but i am not yet well. they have cut down the trees in george lane. evelyn, in his book of forest trees, tells us of wicked men that cut down trees, and never prospered afterwards; yet nothing has deterred these audacious aldermen from violating the hamadryads of george lane. as an impartial traveller, i must however tell, that, in stow street, where i left a draw-well, i have found a pump; but the lading-well, in this ill fated george lane, lies shamefully neglected. i am going to-day, or to-morrow, to ashbourne; but i am at a loss how i shall get back in time to london. here are only chance coaches, so that there is no certainty of a place. if i do not come, let it not hinder your journey. i can be but a few days behind you; and i will follow in the brighthelmstone coach. but i hope to come. i took care to tell miss porter, that i have got another lucy. i hope she is well. tell mrs. salusbury that i beg her stay at streatham, for little lucy's sake. i am, &c. v.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, july , . madam,--since my last letter, nothing extraordinary has happened. rheumatism, which has been very troublesome, is grown better. i have not yet seen dr. taylor, and july runs fast away. i shall not have much time for him, if he delays much longer to come or send. mr. green, the apothecary, has found a book, which tells who paid levies in our parish, and how much they paid, above a hundred years ago. do you not think we study this book hard? nothing is like going to the bottom of things. many families, that paid the parish-rates, are now extinct, like the race of hercules: "pulvis et umbra sumus." what is nearest us, touches us most. the passions rise higher at domestick, than at imperial, tragedies. i am not wholly unaffected by the revolutions of sadler street; nor can forbear to mourn a little when old names vanish away, and new come into their place. do not imagine, madam, that i wrote this letter for the sake of these philosophical meditations; for when i began it, i had neither mr. green, nor his book, in my thoughts; but was resolved to write, and did not know what i had to send, but my respects to mrs. salusbury, and mr. thrale, and harry, and the misses. i am, dearest madam, your, &c. vi.--to mrs. thrale. ashbourne, july , . dearest madam,--there had not been so long an interval between my two last letters, but that, when i came hither, i did not at first understand the hours of the post. i have seen the great bull; and very great he is. i have seen, likewise, his heir apparent, who promises to inherit all the bulk, and all the virtues, of his sire. i have seen the man who offered a hundred guineas for the young bull, while he was yet little better than a calf. matlock, i am afraid, i shall not see, but i purpose to see dovedale; and, after all this seeing, i hope to see you. i am, &c. vii.--to the same. ashbourne, july , . dear madam,--last saturday i came to ashbourne; the dangers or the pleasures of the journey i have, at present, no disposition to recount; else might i paint the beauties of my native plains; might i tell of the "smiles of nature, and the charms of art;" else might i relate, how i crossed the staffordshire canal, one of the great efforts of human labour, and human contrivance, which, from the bridge on which i viewed it, passed away on either side, and loses itself in distant regions, uniting waters that nature had divided, and dividing lands which nature had united. i might tell how these reflections fermented in my mind, till the chaise stopped at ashbourne, at ashbourne in the peak. let not the barren name of the peak terrify you; i have never wanted strawberries and cream. the great bull has no disease but age. i hope, in time, to be like the great bull; and hope you will be like him, too, a hundred years hence. i am, &c. viii.--to mrs. thrale. ashbourne, july , . dearest madam,--i am obliged to my friend harry, for his remembrance, but think it a little hard that i hear nothing from miss. there has been a man here to-day to take a farm. after some talk, he went to see the bull, and said, that he had seen a bigger. do you think he is likely to get the farm? _toujours_ strawberries and cream. dr. taylor is much better, and my rheumatism is less painful. let me hear, in return, as much good of you and of mrs. salusbury. you despise the dog and duck: things that are at hand are always slighted. i remember that dr. grevil, of gloucester, sent for that water when his wife was in the same danger; but he lived near malvern, and you live near the dog and duck. thus, in difficult cases, we naturally trust most what we least know. why bromefield, supposing that a lotion can do good, should despise laurel-water, in comparison with his own receipt, i do not see; and see, still less, why he should laugh at that which wall thinks efficacious. i am afraid philosophy will not warrant much hope in a lotion. be pleased to make my compliments from mrs. salusbury to susy. i am, &c. ix.--to the same. october , . madam,--though i am just informed, that, by some accidental negligence, the letter, which i wrote on thursday, was not given to the post, yet i cannot refuse myself the gratification of writing again to my mistress; not that i have any thing to tell, but that, by showing how much i am employed upon you, i hope to keep you from forgetting me. doctor taylor asked me, this morning, on what i was thinking; and i was thinking on lucy. i hope lucy is a good girl. but she cannot yet be so good as queeney. i have got nothing yet for queeney's cabinet. i hope dear mrs. salusbury grows no worse. i wish any thing could be found that would make her better. you must remember her admonition, and bustle in the brewhouse. when i come, you may expect to have your hands full with all of us. our bulls and cows are all well, but we yet hate the man that had seen a bigger bull. our deer have died, but many are left. our waterfall, at the garden, makes a great roaring this wet weather. and so no more at present from, madam, your, &c. x.--to mrs. thrale. november , . dear madam,--i am sorry that none of your letters bring better news of the poor dear lady. i hope her pain is not great. to have a disease confessedly incurable, and apparently mortal, is a very heavy affliction; and it is still more grievous, when pain is added to despair. every thing else in your letter pleased me very well, except that when i come i entreat i may not be flattered, as your letters flatter me. you have read of heroes and princes ruined by flattery, and, i question, if any of them had a flatterer so dangerous as you. pray keep strictly to your character of governess. i cannot yet get well; my nights are flatulent and unquiet, but my days are tolerably easy, and taylor says, that i look much better than when i came hither. you will see when i come, and i can take your word. our house affords no revolutions. the great bull is well. but i write, not merely to think on you, for i do that without writing, but to keep you a little thinking on me. i perceive that i have taken a broken piece of paper, but that is not the greatest fault that you must forgive in, madam, your, &c. xi.--to mrs. thrale. november , . dear madam,--if you are so kind as to write to me on saturday, the day on which you will receive this, i shall have it before i leave ashbourne. i am to go to lichfield on wednesday, and purpose to find my way to london, through birmingham and oxford. i was yesterday at chatsworth. it is a very fine house. i wish you had been with me to see it; for then, as we are apt to want matter of talk, we should have gained something new to talk on. they complimented me with playing the fountain, and opening the cascade. but i am of my friend's opinion, that when one has seen the ocean, cascades are but little things. i am in hope of a letter to-day from you or queeney, but the post has made some blunder, and the packet is not yet distributed. i wish it may bring me a little good of you all. i am, &c. xii.--to the same. tuesday, jan. , . madam,--the inequalities of human life have always employed the meditation of deep thinkers, and i cannot forbear to reflect on the difference between your condition and my own. you live upon mock-turtle, and stewed rumps of beef; i dined, yesterday, upon crumpets. you sit with parish officers, caressing and caressed, the idol of the table, and the wonder of the day. i pine in the solitude of sickness, not bad enough to be pitied, and not well enough to be endured. you sleep away the night, and laugh, or scold away the day. i cough and grumble, and grumble and cough. last night was very tedious, and this day makes no promises of much ease. however, i have this day put on my shoe, and hope that gout is gone. i shall have only the cough to contend with, and i doubt whether i shall get rid of that without change of place. i caught cold in the coach as i went away, and am disordered by very little things. is it accident or age? i am, dearest madam, &c. xiii.--to mrs. thrale. march , . dear madam,--to tell you that i am sorry, both for the poor lady and for you, is useless. i cannot help either of you. the weakness of mind is, perhaps, only a casual interruption or intermission of the attention, such as we all suffer when some weighty care or urgent calamity has possession of the mind. she will compose herself. she is unwilling to die, and the first conviction of approaching death raised great perturbation. i think she has but very lately thought death close at hand. she will compose herself to do that as well as she can, which must, at last, be done. may she not want the divine assistance! you, madam, will have a great loss; a greater than is common in the loss of a parent. fill your mind with hope of her happiness, and turn your thoughts first to him who gives and takes away, in whose presence the living and dead are standing together. then remember, that when this mournful duty is paid, others yet remain of equal obligation, and, we may hope, of less painful performance. grief is a species of idleness, and the necessity of attention to the present preserves us, by the merciful disposition of providence, from being lacerated and devoured by sorrow for the past. you must think on your husband and your children, and do what this dear lady has done for you. not to come to town while the great struggle continues is, undoubtedly, well resolved. but do not harass yourself into danger; you owe the care of your health to all that love you, at least to all whom it is your duty to love. you cannot give such a mother too much, if you do not give her what belongs to another. i am, &c. xiv.--to mrs. thrale. april , . dear madam,--hope is more pleasing than fear, but not less fallacious; you know, when you do not try to deceive yourself, that the disease, which at last is to destroy, must be gradually growing worse, and that it is vain to wish for more than, that the descent to death may be slow and easy. in this wish i join with you, and hope it will be granted. dear, dear lady, whenever she is lost she will be missed, and whenever she is remembered she will be lamented. is it a good or an evil to me, that she now loves me? it is surely a good; for you will love me better, and we shall have a new principle of concord; and i shall be happier with honest sorrow, than with sullen indifference: and far happier still than with counterfeited sympathy. i am reasoning upon a principle very far from certain, a confidence of survivance. you or i, or both, may be called into the presence of the supreme judge before her. i have lived a life of which i do not like the review. surely i shall, in time, live better. i sat down with an intention to write high compliments; but my thoughts have taken another course, and some other time must now serve to tell you with what other emotions, benevolence, and fidelity, i am, &c. xv.--to the same. may , . madam,--never imagine that your letters are long; they are always too short for my curiosity. i do not know that i was ever content with a single perusal. of dear mrs. salusbury i never expect much better news than you send me; _de pis en pis_ is the natural and certain course of her dreadful malady. i am content, when it leaves her ease enough for the exercise of her mind. why should mr. **** suppose, that what i took the liberty of suggesting, was concerted with you? he does not know how much i revolve his affairs, and how honestly i desire his prosperity. i hope he has let the hint take some hold of his mind. your declaration to miss **** is more general than my opinions allow. i think an unlimited promise of acting by the opinion of another so wrong, that nothing, or hardly anything, can make it right. all unnecessary vows are folly, because they suppose a prescience of the future which has not been given us. they are, i think, a crime, because they resign that life to chance which god has given us to be regulated by reason; and superinduce a kind of fatality, from which it is the great privilege of our nature to be free. unlimited obedience is due only to the universal father of heaven and earth. my parents may be mad and foolish; may be wicked and malicious; may be erroneously religious, or absurdly scrupulous. i am not bound to compliance with mandates, either positive or negative, which either religion condemns, or reason rejects. there wanders about the world a wild notion, which extends over marriage more than over any other transaction. if miss **** followed a trade, would it be said, that she was bound, in conscience, to give or refuse credit at her father's choice? and is not marriage a thing in which she is more interested, and has, therefore, more right of choice? when i may suffer for my own crimes, when i may be sued for my own debts, i may judge, by parity of reason, for my own happiness. the parent's moral right can arise only from his kindness, and his civil right only from his money. conscience cannot dictate obedience to the wicked, or compliance with the foolish; and of interest mere prudence is the judge. if the daughter is bound without a promise, she promises nothing; and if she is not bound, she promises too much. what is meant by tying up money in trade i do not understand no money is so little tied, as that which is employed in trade. mr. ****, perhaps, only means, that in consideration of money to be advanced, he will oblige his son to be a trader. this is reasonable enough. upon ten thousand pounds, diligently occupied, they may live in great plenty and splendour, without the mischiefs of idleness. i can write a long letter, as well as my mistress; and shall be glad that my long letters may be as welcome as hers. my nights are grown again very uneasy and troublesome. i know not that the country will mend them; but i hope your company will mend my days. though i cannot now expect much attention, and would not wish for more than can be spared from the poor dear lady, yet i shall see you and hear you every now and then; and to see and hear you, is always to hear wit, and to see virtue. i shall i hope, see you to-morrow, and a little on the two next days; and with that little i must, for the present, try to be contented. i am, &c. xvi.--to mrs. thrale. august , . dear madam,--we left london on friday, the th, not very early, and travelled, without any memorable accident, through a country which i had seen before. in the evening i was not well, and was forced to stop at stilton, one stage short of stamford, where we intended to have lodged. on the th we passed through stamford and grantham, and dined at newark, where i had only time to observe, that the market-place was uncommonly spacious and neat. in london, we should call it a square, though the sides were neither straight nor parallel. we came, at night, to doncaster, and went to church in the morning, where chambers found the monument of robert of doncaster, who says on his stone something like this:--what i gave, that i have; what i spent, that i had; what i left, that i lost.--so saith robert of doncaster, who reigned in the world sixty-seven years, and all that time lived not one. here we were invited to dinner, and, therefore, made no great haste away. we reached york, however, that night; i was much disordered with old complaints. next morning we saw the minster, an edifice of loftiness and elegance, equal to the highest hopes of architecture. i remember nothing, but the dome of st. paul's, that can be compared with the middle walk. the chapter-house is a circular building, very stately, but, i think, excelled by the chapter-house of lincoln. i then went to see the ruins of the abbey, which are almost vanished, and i remember nothing of them distinct. the next visit was to the gaol, which they call the castle; a fabrick built lately, such is terrestrial mutability, out of the materials of the ruined abbey. the under gaoler was very officious to show his fetters, in which there was no contrivance. the head gaoler came in, and seeing me look, i suppose, fatigued, offered me wine, and, when i went away, would not suffer his servant to take money. the gaol is accounted the best in the kingdom, and you find the gaoler deserving of his dignity. we dined at york, and went on to northallerton, a place of which i know nothing, but that it afforded us a lodging on monday night, and about two hundred and seventy years ago gave birth to roger ascham. next morning we changed our horses at darlington, where mr. cornelius harrison, a cousin-german of mine, was perpetual curate. he was the only one of my relations who ever rose in fortune above penury, or in character above neglect. the church is built crosswise, with a fine spire, and might invite a traveller to survey it; but i, perhaps, wanted vigour, and thought i wanted time. the next stage brought us to durham, a place of which mr. thrale bade me take particular notice. the bishop's palace has the appearance of an old feudal castle, built upon an eminence, and looking down upon the river, upon which was formerly thrown a drawbridge, as i suppose, to be raised at night, lest the scots should pass it. the cathedral has a massiness and solidity, such as i have seen in no other place; it rather awes than pleases, as it strikes with a kind of gigantick dignity, and aspires to no other praise than that of rocky solidity and indeterminate duration. i had none of my friends resident, and, therefore, saw but little. the library is mean and scanty. at durham, beside all expectation, i met an old friend: miss fordyce is married there to a physician. we met, i think, with honest kindness on both sides. i thought her much decayed, and having since heard that the banker had involved her husband in his extensive ruin, i cannot forbear to think, that i saw in her withered features more impression of sorrow than that of time-- "qua terra patet, sera regnat erinnys." he that wanders about the world sees new forms of human misery, and if he chances to meet an old friend, meets a face darkened with troubles. on tuesday night we came hither; yesterday i took some care of myself, and to-day i am _quite polite_. i have been taking a view of all that could be shown me, and find that all very near to nothing. you have often heard me complain of finding myself disappointed by books of travels; i am afraid travel itself will end likewise in disappointment. one town, one country, is very like another: civilized nations have the same customs, and barbarous nations have the same nature: there are, indeed, minute discriminations both of places and manners, which, perhaps, are not wanting of curiosity, but which a traveller seldom stays long enough to investigate and compare. the dull utterly neglect them; the acute see a little, and supply the rest with fancy and conjecture. i shall set out again to-morrow; but i shall not, i am afraid, see alnwick, for dr. percy is not there. i hope to lodge to-morrow night at berwick, and the next at edinburgh, where i shall direct mr. drummond, bookseller at ossian's head, to take care of my letters. i hope the little dears are all well, and that my dear master and mistress may go somewhither; but, wherever you go, do not forget, madam, your most humble servant. i am pretty well. august . thus far i had written at newcastle. i forgot to send it. i am now at edinburgh; and have been this day running about. i run pretty well. xvii.--to mrs. thrale. edinburgh, august , . dear madam,--on the th, i left newcastle, and, in the afternoon, came to alnwick, where we were treated with great civility by the duke: i went through the apartments, walked on the wall, and climbed the towers. that night we lay at belford, and, on the next night, came to edinburgh. on sunday ( th) i went to the english chapel. after dinner, dr. robertson came in, and promised to show me the place. on monday i saw their publick buildings: the cathedral, which i told robertson i wished to see, because it had once been a church; the courts of justice, the parliament-house, the advocates' library, the repository of records, the college, and its library, and the palace, particularly the old tower, where the king of scotland seized david rizzio in the queen's presence. most of their buildings are very mean; and the whole town bears some resemblance to the old part of birmingham. boswell has very handsome and spacious rooms, level with the ground, on one side of the house, and, on the other, four stories high. at dinner, on monday, were the dutchess of douglas, an old lady, who talks broad scotch with a paralytick voice, and is scarcely understood by her own countrymen; the lord chief baron, sir adolphus oughton, and many more. at supper there was such a conflux of company, that i could scarcely support the tumult. i have never been well in the whole journey, and am very easily disordered. this morning i saw, at breakfast, dr. blacklock, the blind poet, who does not remember to have seen light, and is read to, by a poor scholar, in latin, greek, and french. he was, originally, a poor scholar himself. i looked on him with reverence. tomorrow our journey begins; i know not when i shall write again. i am but poorly. i am, &c. xviii.--to mrs. thrale. bamff, august , . dear madam,--it has so happened, that, though i am perpetually thinking on you, i could seldom find opportunity to write; i have, in fourteen days, sent only one letter; you must consider the fatigues of travel, and the difficulties encountered in a strange country. august th. i passed, with boswell, the frith of forth, and began our journey; in the passage we observed an island, which i persuaded my companions to survey. we found it a rock somewhat troublesome to climb, about a mile long, and half a mile broad; in the middle were the ruins of an old fort, which had, on one of the stones,--"maria re. ." it had been only a blockhouse, one story high. i measured two apartments, of which the walls were entire, and found them twenty-seven feet long, and twenty-three broad. the rock had some grass and many thistles; both cows and sheep were grazing. there was a spring of water. the name is inchkeith. look on your maps. this visit took about an hour. we pleased ourselves with being in a country all our own, and then went back to the boat, and landed at kinghorn, a mean town; and, travelling through kirkaldie, a very long town, meanly built, and cowpar, which i could not see, because it was night, we came late to st. andrew's, the most ancient of the scotch universities, and once the see of the primate of scotland. the inn was full; but lodgings were provided for us at the house of the professor of rhetorick, a man of elegant manners, who showed us, in the morning, the poor remains of a stately cathedral, demolished in knox's reformation, and now only to be imagined, by tracing its foundation, and contemplating the little ruins that are left. here was once a religious house. two of the vaults or cellars of the sub-prior are even yet entire. in one of them lives an old woman, who claims an hereditary residence in it, boasting that her husband was the sixth tenant of this gloomy mansion, in a lineal descent, and claims, by her marriage with this lord of the cavern, an alliance with the bruces. mr. boswell staid awhile to interrogate her, because he understood her language; she told him, that she and her cat lived together; that she had two sons somewhere, who might, perhaps, be dead; that, when there were quality in the town, notice was taken of her, and that now she was neglected, but did not trouble them. her habitation contained all that she had; her turf, for fire, was laid in one place, and her balls of coal-dust in another, but her bed seemed to be clean. boswell asked her, if she never heard any noises; but she could tell him of nothing supernatural, though she often wandered in the night among the graves and ruins; only she had, sometimes, notice, by dreams, of the death of her relations. we then viewed the remains of a castle, on the margin of the sea, in which the archbishops resided, and in which cardinal beatoun was killed. the professors, who happened to be readout in the vacation, made a publick dinner, and treated us very kindly and respectfully. they showed us their colleges, in one of which there is a library that, for luminousness and elegance, may vie, at least, with the new edifice at streatham. but learning seems not to prosper among them; one of their colleges has been lately alienated, and one of their churches lately deserted. an experiment was made of planting a shrubbery in the church, but it did not thrive. why the place should thus fall to decay, i know not; for education, such as is here to be had, is sufficiently cheap. the term, or, as they call it, their session, lasts seven months in the year, which the students of the highest rank and greatest expense, may pass here for twenty pounds, in which are included board, lodging, books, and the continual instruction of three professors. th. we left st. andrew's, well satisfied with our reception, and, crossing the frith of tay, came to dundee, a dirty, despicable town. we passed, afterwards, through aberbrothick, famous once for an abbey, of which there are only a few fragments left; but those fragments testify that the fabrick was once of great extent, and of stupendous magnificence. two of the towers are yet standing, though shattered; into one of them boswell climbed, but found the stairs broken: the way into the other we did not see, and had not time to search; i believe it might be ascended, but the top, i think, is open. we lay at montrose, a neat place, with a spacious area for the market, and an elegant town-house. st. we travelled towards aberdeen, another university, and, in the way, dined at lord monboddo's, the scotch judge, who has lately written a strange book about the origin of language, in which he traces monkeys up to men, and says that, in some countries, the human species have tails like other beasts. he inquired for these long-tailed men of banks, and was not well pleased, that they had not been found in all his peregrination. he talked nothing of this to me, and i hope we parted friends; for we agreed pretty well, only we disputed in adjusting the claims of merit between a shopkeeper of london, and a savage of the american wildernesses. our opinions were, i think, maintained, on both sides, without full conviction: monboddo declared boldly for the savage; and i, perhaps, for that reason, sided with the citizen. we came late to aberdeen, where i found my dear mistress's letter, and learned that all our little people were happily recovered of the measles. every part of your letter was pleasing. there are two cities of the name of aberdeen: the old town, built about a mile inland, once the see of a bishop, which contains the king's college, and the remains of the cathedral; and the new town, which stands, for the sake of trade, upon a frith or arm of the sea, so that ships rest against the quay. the two cities have their separate magistrates; and the two colleges are, in effect, two universities, which confer degrees independently of each other. new aberdeen is a large town, built almost wholly of that granite which is used for the new pavement in london, which, hard as it is, they square with very little difficulty. here i first saw the women in plaids. the plaid makes, at once, a hood and cloak, without cutting or sewing, merely by the manner of drawing the opposite sides over the shoulders. the maids, at the inns, run over the house barefoot; and children, not dressed in rags, go without shoes or stockings. shoes are, indeed, not yet in universal use; they came late into this country. one of the professors told us, as we were mentioning a fort, built by cromwell, that the country owed much of its present industry to cromwell's soldiers. they taught us, said he, to raise cabbage, and make shoes. how they lived without shoes may yet be seen; but, in the passage through villages, it seems to him, that surveys their gardens, that when they had not cabbage, they had nothing. education is here of the same price as at st. andrew's, only the session is but from the st of november to the st of april. the academical buildings seem rather to advance than decline. they showed their libraries, which were not very splendid, but some manuscripts were so exquisitely penned, that i wished my dear mistress to have seen them. i had an unexpected pleasure, by finding an old acquaintance, now professor of physick, in the king's college: we were, on both sides, glad of the interview, having not seen, nor, perhaps, thought on one another, for many years; but we had no emulation, nor had either of us risen to the other's envy, and our old kindness was easily renewed. i hope we shall never try the effect of so long an absence, and that i shall always be, madam your, &c. xix.--to mrs. thrale. inverness, august , . dear madam,--august rd, i had the honour of attending the lord provost of aberdeen, and was presented with the freedom of the city, not in a gold box, but in good latin. let me pay scotland one just praise! there was no officer gaping for a fee; this could have been said of no city on the english side of the tweed. i wore my patent of freedom, _pro more_, in my hat, from the new town to the old, about a mile. i then dined with my friend, the professor of physick, at his house, and saw the king's college. boswell was very angry, that the aberdeen professors would not talk. when i was at the english church, in aberdeen, i happened to be espied by lady di. middleton, whom i had sometime seen in london; she told what she had seen to mr. boyd, lord errol's brother, who wrote us an invitation to lord errol's house, called slane's castle we went thither on the next day, ( th of august,) and found a house, not old, except but one tower, built on the margin of the sea, upon a rock, scarce accessible from the sea; at one corner, a tower makes a perpendicular continuation of the lateral surface of the rock, so that it is impracticable to walk round; the house inclosed a square court, and on all sides within the court is a piazza, or gallery, two stories high. we came in, as we were invited to dinner, and, after dinner, offered to go; but lady errol sent us word by mr. boyd, that if we went before lord errol came home, we must never be forgiven, and ordered out the coach to show us two curiosities. we were first conducted, by mr. boyd, to dunbuys, or the yellow rock. dunbuys is a rock, consisting of two protuberances, each, perhaps, one hundred yards round, joined together by a narrow neck, and separated from the land by a very narrow channel or gully. these rocks are the haunts of seafowl, whose clang, though this is not their season, we heard at a distance. the eggs and the young are gathered here, in great numbers, at the time of breeding. there is a bird here, called a coot, which, though not much bigger than a duck, lays a larger egg than a goose. we went then to see the buller, or bouilloir, of buchan: buchan is the name of the district, and the buller is a small creek, or gulf, into which the sea flows through an arch of the rock. we walked round it, and saw it black, at a great depth. it has its name from the violent ebullition of the water, when high winds or high tides drive it up the arch into the basin. walking a little farther, i spied some boats, and told my companions that we would go into the buller and examine it. there was no danger; all was calm; we went through the arch, and found ourselves in a narrow gulf, surrounded by craggy rocks, of height not stupendous, but, to a mediterranean visitor, uncommon. on each side was a cave, of which the fisherman knew not the extent, in which smugglers hide their goods, and sometimes parties of pleasure take a dinner. i am, &c. xx.--to mrs. thrale. skie, september , . dearest madam,--i am now looking on the sea, from a house of sir alexander macdonald, in the isle of skie. little did i once think of seeing this region of obscurity, and little did you once expect a salutation from this verge of european life. i have now the pleasure of going where nobody goes, and seeing what nobody sees. our design is to visit several of the smaller islands, and then pass over to the south-west of scotland. i returned from the sight of buller's buchan to lord errol's, and, having seen his library, had, for a time, only to look upon the sea, which rolled between us and norway. next morning, august th, we continued our journey through a country not uncultivated, but so denuded of its woods, that, in all this journey, i had not travelled a hundred yards between hedges, or seen five trees fit for the carpenter. a few small plantations may be found, but i believe scarcely any thirty years old; at least, they are all posterior to the union. this day we dined with a country-gentleman, who has in his grounds the remains of a druid's temple, which, when it is complete, is nothing more than a circle, or double circle, of stones, placed at equal distances, with a flat stone, perhaps an altar, at a certain point, and a stone, taller than the rest, at the opposite point. the tall stone is erected, i think, at the south. of these circles, there are many in all the unfrequented parts of the island. the inhabitants of these parts respect them as memorials of the sculpture of some illustrious person. here i saw a few trees. we lay at bamff. august th. we dined at elgin, where we saw the ruins of a noble cathedral; the chapter-house is yet standing. a great part of elgin is built with small piazzas to the lower story. we went on to foris, over the heath where macbeth met the witches, but had no adventure; only in the way we saw, for the first time, some houses with fruit-trees about them. the improvements of the scotch are for immediate profit; they do not yet think it quite worth their while to plant what will not produce something to be eaten, or sold, in a very little time. we rested at foris. a very great proportion of the people are barefoot; shoes are not yet considered as necessaries of life. it is still the custom to send out the sons of gentlemen without them into the streets and ways. there are more beggars than i have ever seen in england; they beg, if not silently, yet very modestly. next day we came to nairn, a miserable town, but a royal burgh, of which the chief annual magistrate is styled lord provost. in the neighbourhood we saw the castle of the old thane of cawdor. there is one ancient tower, with its battlements and winding stairs, yet remaining; the rest of the house is, though not modern, of later erection. on the th we went to fort george, which is accounted the most regular fortification in the island. the major of artillery walked with us round the walls, and showed us the principles upon which every part was constructed, and the way in which it could be defended. we dined with the governour, sir eyre coote, and his officers. it was a very pleasant and instructive day; but nothing puts my honoured mistress out of my mind. at night we came to inverness, the last considerable town in the north, where we staid all the next day, for it was sunday, and saw the ruins of what is called macbeth's castle. it never was a large house, but was strongly situated. from inverness we were to travel on horseback. august th. we set out with four horses. we had two highlanders to run by us, who were active, officious, civil, and hardy. our journey was, for many miles, along a military way, made upon the banks of lough ness, a water about eighteen miles long, but not, i think, half a mile broad. our horses were not bad, and the way was very pleasant; the rock, out of which the road was cut, was covered with birch-trees, fern, and heath. the lake below was beating its bank by a gentle wind, and the rocks beyond the water, on the right, stood sometimes horrid, and wild, and sometimes opened into a kind of bay, in which there was a spot of cultivated ground, yellow with corn. in one part of the way we had trees on both sides, for, perhaps, half a mile. such a length of shade, perhaps scotland cannot show in any other place. you are not to suppose, that here are to be any more towns or inns. we came to a cottage, which they call the general's hut, where we alighted to dine, and had eggs and bacon, and mutton, with wine, rum, and whiskey. i had water. at a bridge over the river, which runs into the ness the rocks rise on three sides, with a direction almost perpendicular, to a great height; they are, in part, covered with trees, and exhibit a kind of dreadful magnificence:--standing like the barriers of nature, placed to keep different orders of being in perpetual separation. near this bridge is the fall of fiers, a famous cataract, of which, by clambering over the rocks, we obtained a view. the water was low, and, therefore, we had only the pleasure of knowing that rain would make it, at once, pleasing and formidable; there will then be a mighty flood, foaming along a rocky channel, frequently obstructed by protuberances, and exasperated by reverberation, at last precipitated with a sudden descent, and lost in the depth of a gloomy chasm. we came, somewhat late, to fort augustus, where the lieutenant-governour met us beyond the gates, and apologized that, at that hour, he could not, by the rules of a garrison, admit us, otherwise than at a narrow door, which only one can enter at a time. we were well entertained and well lodged, and, next morning, after having viewed the fort, we pursued our journey. our way now lay over the mountains, which are not to be passed by climbing them directly, but by traversing; so that, as we went forward, we saw our baggage following us below, in a direction exactly contrary. there is, in these ways, much labour, but little danger, and, perhaps, other places, of which very terrifick representations are made, are not, in themselves, more formidable. these roads have all been made by hewing the rock away with pickaxes, or bursting it with gunpowder. the stones, so separated, are often piled loose, as a wall by the wayside. we saw an inscription, importing the year in which one of the regiments made two thousand yards of the road eastward. after tedious travel of some hours, we came to what, i believe, we must call a village, a place where there were three huts built of turf; at one of which we were to have our dinner and our bed, for we could not reach any better place that night. this place is called enoch in glenmorrison. the house, in which we lodged, was distinguished by a chimney, the rest had only a hole for the smoke. here we had eggs, and mutton, and a chicken, and a sausage, and rum. in the afternoon tea was made by a very decent girl in a printed linen: she engaged me so much, that i made her a present of cocker's arithmetick. i am, &c. xxi.--to mrs. thrale. skie, sept. , . dearest madam,--the post, which comes but once a week into these parts, is so soon to go, that i have not time to go on where i left off in my last letter. i have been several days in the island of raarsa, and am now again in the isle of skie, but at the other end of it. skie is almost equally divided between the two great families of macdonald and macleod, other proprietors having only small districts. the two great lords do not know, within twenty square miles, the contents of their own territories. --kept up but ill the reputation of highland hospitality; we are now with macleod, quite at the other end of the island, where there is a fine young gentleman and fine ladies. the ladies are studying erse. i have a cold, and am miserably deaf, and am troublesome to lady macleod; i force her to speak loud, but she will seldom speak loud enough. raarsa is an island about fifteen miles long and two broad, under the dominion of one gentleman, who has three sons and ten daughters; the eldest is the beauty of this part of the world, and has been polished at edinburgh: they sing and dance, and, without expense, have upon their table most of what sea, air, or earth can afford. i intended to have written about raarsa, but the post will not wait longer than while i send my compliments to my dear master and little mistresses. i am, &c. xxii.--to mrs. thrale. skie, sept. , . dearest madam,--i am so vexed at the necessity of sending yesterday so short a letter, that i purpose to get a long letter beforehand, by writing something every day, which i may the more easily do, as a cold makes me now too deaf to take the usual pleasure in conversation. lady macleod is very good to me; and the place, at which we now are, is equal, in strength of situation, in the wildness of the adjacent country, and in the plenty and elegance of the domestick entertainment, to a castle in gothick romances. the sea, with a little island, is before us; cascades play within view. close to the house is the formidable skeleton of an old castle, probably danish; and the whole mass of building stands upon a protuberance of rock, inaccessible till of late, but by a pair of stairs on the seaside, and secure, in ancient times, against any enemy that was likely to invade the kingdom of skie. macleod has offered me an island; if it were not too far off, i should hardly refuse it: my island would be pleasanter than brighthelmstone, if you and my master could come to it; but i cannot think it pleasant to live quite alone, "oblitusque meorum, obliviscendus et illis." that i should be elated, by the dominion of an island to forgetfulness of my friends at streatham, i cannot believe, and i hope never to deserve that they should be willing to forget me. it has happened, that i have been often recognised in my journey, where i did not expect it. at aberdeen, i found one of my acquaintance professor of physick: turning aside to dine with a country-gentleman, i was owned, at table, by one who had seen me at a philosophical lecture: at macdonald's i was claimed by a naturalist, who wanders about the islands to pick up curiosities: and i had once, in london, attracted the notice of lady macleod. i will now go on with my account. the highland girl made tea, and looked and talked not inelegantly; her father was by no means an ignorant or a weak man; there were books in the cottage, among which were some volumes of prideaux's connexion: this man's conversation we were glad of while we staid. he had been out, as they call it, in forty-five, and still retained his old opinions. he was going to america, because his rent was raised beyond what he thought himself able to pay. at night our beds were made, but we had some difficulty in persuading ourselves to lie down in them, though we had put on our own sheets; at last we ventured, and i slept very soundly in the vale of glenmorrison, amidst the rocks and mountains. next morning our landlord liked us so well, that he walked some miles with us for our company, through a country so wild and barren, that the proprietor does not, with all his pressure upon his tenants, raise more than four hundred pounds a year for near one hundred square miles, or sixty thousand acres. he let us know, that he had forty head of black cattle, a hundred goats, and a hundred sheep, upon a farm that he remembered let at five pounds a year, but for which he now paid twenty. he told us some stories of their march into england. at last, he left us, and we went forward, winding among mountains, sometimes green and sometimes naked, commonly so steep, as not easily to be climbed by the greatest vigour and activity: our way was often crossed by little rivulets, and we were entertained with small streams trickling from the rocks, which, after heavy rains, must be tremendous torrents. about noon we came to a small glen, so they call a valley, which, compared with other places, appeared rich and fertile; here our guides desired us to stop, that the horses might graze, for the journey was very laborious, and no more grass would be found. we made no difficulty of compliance, and i sat down to take notes on a green bank, with a small stream running at my feet, in the midst of savage solitude, with mountains before me, and, on either hand, covered with heath. i looked around me, and wondered, that i was not more affected, but the mind is not at all times equally ready to be put in motion; if my mistress, and master, and queeney had been there, we should have produced some reflections among us, either poetical or philosophical; for though "solitude be the nurse of woe," conversation is often the parent of remarks and discoveries. in about an hour we remounted, and pursued our journey. the lake, by which we had travelled for some time, ended in a river, which we passed by a bridge, and came to another glen, with a collection of huts, called auknashealds; the huts were, generally, built of clods of earth, held together by the intertexture of vegetable fibres, of which earth there are great levels in scotland, which they call mosses. moss in scotland is bog in ireland, and moss-trooper is bog-trotter; there was, however, one hut built of loose stones, piled up, with great thickness, into a strong, though not solid wall. from this house we obtained some great pails of milk, and having brought bread with us, we were liberally regaled. the inhabitants, a very coarse tribe, ignorant of any language but erse, gathered so fast about us, that, if we had not had highlanders with us, they might have caused more alarm than pleasure; they are called the clan of macrae. we had been told, that nothing gratified the highlanders so much as snuff and tobacco, and had, accordingly, stored ourselves with both at fort augustus. boswell opened his treasure, and gave them each a piece of tobacco roll. we had more bread than we could eat for the present, and were more liberal than provident. boswell cut it in slices, and gave them an opportunity of tasting wheaten bread, for the first time. i then got some half-pence for a shilling, and made up the deficiencies of boswell's distribution, who had given some money among the children. we then directed, that the mistress of the stone-house should be asked, what we must pay her. she, who, perhaps, had never before sold any thing but cattle, knew not, i believe, well what to ask, and referred herself to us: we obliged her to make some demand, and one of the highlanders settled the account with her at a shilling. one of the men advised her, with the cunning that clowns never can be without, to ask more; but she said that a shilling was enough. we gave her half-a-crown, and she offered part of it again. the macraes were so well pleased with our behaviour, that they declared it the best day they had seen, since the time of the old laird of macleod, who, i suppose, like us, stopped in their valley, as he was travelling to skie. we were mentioning this view of the highlander's life at macdonald's, and mentioning the macraes, with some degree of pity, when a highland lady informed us, that we might spare our tenderness, for she doubted not but the woman, who supplied us with milk, was mistress of thirteen or fourteen milch cows. i cannot forbear to interrupt my narrative. boswell, with some of his troublesome kindness, has informed this family, and reminded me, that the th of september is my birthday. the return of my birthday, if i remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general care of humanity to escape. i can now look back upon threescore and four years, in which little has been done, and little has been enjoyed; a life, diversified by misery, spent part in the sluggishness of penury, and part under the violence of pain, in gloomy discontent, or importunate distress. but, perhaps, i am better than i should have been, if i had been less afflicted. with this i will try to be content. in proportion as there is less pleasure in retrospective considerations, the mind is more disposed to wander forward into futurity; but, at sixty-four, what promises, however liberal, of imaginary good can futurity venture to make? yet something will be always promised, and some promises will be always credited. i am hoping, and i am praying, that i may live better in the time to come, whether long or short, than i have yet lived, and, in the solace of that hope, endeavour to repose. dear queeney's day is next: i hope she, at sixty-four, will have less to regret. i will now complain no more, but tell my mistress of my travels. after we left the macraes, we travelled on through a country like that which we passed in the morning. the highlands are very uniform, for there is little variety in universal barrenness; the rocks, however, are not all naked, for some have grass on their sides, and birches and alders on their tops, and in the valleys are often broad and clear streams, which have little depth, and commonly run very quick; the channels are made by the violence of the wintry floods; the quickness of the stream is in proportion to the declivity of the descent, and the breadth of the channel makes the water shallow in a dry season. there are red deer and roe bucks in the mountains, but we found only goats in the road, and had very little entertainment, as we travelled, either for the eye or ear. there are, i fancy, no singing birds in the highlands. towards night we came to a very formidable hill, called rattiken, which we climbed with more difficulty than we had yet experienced, and, at last, came to glanelg, a place on the seaside, opposite to skie. we were, by this time, weary and disgusted, nor was our humour much mended by our inn, which, though it was built of lime and slate, the highlander's description of a house, which he thinks magnificent, had neither wine, bread, eggs, nor any thing that we could eat or drink. when we were taken up stairs, a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed, where one of us was to lie. boswell blustered, but nothing could be got. at last, a gentleman in the neighbourhood, who heard of our arrival, sent us rum and white sugar. boswell was now provided for, in part, and the landlord prepared some mutton chops, which we could not eat, and killed two hens, of which boswell made his servant broil a limb; with what effect i know not. we had a lemon and a piece of bread, which supplied me with my supper. when the repast was ended, we began to deliberate upon bed: mrs. boswell had warned us, that we should _catch something_, and had given us _sheets_, for our _security_, for--and--, she said, came back from skie, so scratching themselves. i thought sheets a slender defence against the confederacy with which we were threatened, and, by this time, our highlanders had found a place, where they could get some hay: i ordered hay to be laid thick upon the bed, and slept upon it in my great coat: boswell laid sheets upon his bed, and reposed in linen, like a gentleman. the horses were turned out to grass, with a man to watch them. the hill rattiken, and the inn at glanelg, were the only things of which we, or travellers yet more delicate, could find any pretensions to complain. sept. nd. i rose, rustling from the hay, and went to tea, which i forget, whether we found or brought. we saw the isle of skie before us, darkening the horizon with its rocky coast. a boat was procured, and we lanched into one of the straits of the atlantick ocean. we had a passage of about twelve miles to the point where--resided, having come from his seat in the middle of the island, to a small house on the shore, as we believe, that he might, with less reproach, entertain us meanly. if he aspired to meanness, his retrograde ambition was completely gratified, but he did not succeed equally in escaping reproach. he had no cook, nor, i suppose, much provision, nor had the lady the common decencies of her tea-table; we picked up our sugar with our fingers. boswell was very angry, and reproached him with his improper parsimony; i did not much reflect upon the conduct of a man with whom i was not likely to converse as long at any other time. you will now expect that i should give you some account of the isle of skie, of which, though i have been twelve days upon it, i have little to say. it is an island, perhaps, fifty miles long, so much indented by inlets of the sea, that there is no part of it removed from the water more than six miles. no part, that i have seen, is plain; you are always climbing or descending, and every step is upon rock or mire. a walk upon ploughed ground in england is a dance upon carpets, compared to the toilsome drudgery of wandering in skie. there is neither town nor village in the island, nor have i seen any house but macleod's, that is not much below your habitation at brighthelmstone. in the mountains there are stags and roe bucks, but no hares, and few rabbits; nor have i seen any thing that interested me, as a zoologist, except an otter, bigger than i thought an otter could have been. you are, perhaps, imagining that i am withdrawing from the gay and the busy world, into regions of peace and pastoral felicity, and am enjoying the relicks of the golden age; that i am surveying nature's magnificence from a mountain, or remarking her minuter beauties on the flowery bank of a winding rivulet; that i am invigorating myself in the sunshine, or delighting my imagination with being hidden from the invasion of human evils and human passions, in the darkness of a thicket; that i am busy in gathering shells and pebbles on the shore, or contemplative on a rock, from which i look upon the water, and consider how many waves are rolling between me and streatham. the use of travelling is to regulate imagination by reality, and, instead of thinking how things may be, to see them as they are. here are mountains which i should once have climbed; but to climb steeps is now very laborious, and to descend them, dangerous; and i am now content with knowing, that, by scrambling up a rock, i shall only see other rocks, and a wider circuit of barren desolation. of streams, we have here a sufficient number; but they murmur not upon pebbles, but upon rocks. of flowers, if chloris herself were here, i could present her only with the bloom of heath. of lawns and thickets, he must read that would know them, for here is little sun, and no shade. on the sea i look from my window, but am not much tempted to the shore; for since i came to this island, almost every breath of air has been a storm, and, what is worse, a storm with all its severity, but without its magnificence, for the sea is here so broken into channels, that there is not a sufficient volume of water either for lofty surges, or a loud roar. on sept. th, we left--to visit raarsa, the island which i have already mentioned. we were to cross part of skie on horseback; a mode of travelling very uncomfortable, for the road is so narrow, where any road can be found, that only one can go, and so craggy, that the attention can never be remitted; it allows, therefore, neither the gaiety of conversation, nor the laxity of solitude; nor has it, in itself, the amusement of much variety, as it affords only all the possible transpositions of bog, rock, and rivulet. twelve miles, by computation, make a reasonable journey for a day. at night we came to a tenant's house, of the first rank of tenants, where we were entertained better than at the landlord's. there were books, both english and latin. company gathered about us, and we heard some talk of the second sight, and some talk of the events of forty-five; a year which will not soon be forgotten among the islanders. the next day we were confined by a storm. the company, i think, increased, and our entertainment was not only hospitable, but elegant. at night, a minister's sister, in very fine brocade, sung erse songs; i wished to know the meaning; but the highlanders are not much used to scholastick questions, and no translations could be obtained. next day, sept. th, the weather allowed us to depart; a good boat was provided us, and we went to raarsa, under the conduct of mr. malcolm macleod, a gentleman who conducted prince charles through the mountains in his distresses. the prince, he says, was more active than himself; they were, at least, one night without any shelter. the wind blew enough to give the boat a kind of dancing agitation, and, in about three or four hours, we arrived at raarsa, where we were met by the laird, and his friends, upon the shore. raarsa, for such is his title, is master of two islands; upon the smaller of which, called rona, he has only flocks and herds. rona gives title to his eldest son. the money which he raises annually by rent from all his dominions, which contain, at least, fifty thousand acres, is not believed to exceed two hundred and fifty pounds; but, as he keeps a large farm in his own hands, he sells, every year, great numbers of cattle, which add to his revenue, and his table is furnished from the farm and from the sea, with very little expense, except for those things this country does not produce, and of those he is very liberal. the wine circulates vigorously; and the tea, chocolate, and coffee, however they are got, are always at hand. i am, &c. we are this morning trying to get out of skie. xxiii.--to mrs. thrale. skie, sept. , . dear madam,--i am still in skie. do you remember the song, "every island is a prison, strongly guarded by the sea." we have, at one time, no boat, and, at another, may have too much wind; but, of our reception here, we have no reason to complain. we are now with colonel macleod, in a more pleasant place than i thought skie could afford. now to the narrative. we were received at raarsa on the seaside, and after clambering, with some difficulty, over the rocks, a labour which the traveller, wherever he reposes himself on land, must, in these islands, be contented to endure; we were introduced into the house, which one of the company called the court of raarsa, with politeness, which not the court of versailles could have thought defective. the house is not large, though we were told, in our passage, that it had eleven fine rooms, nor magnificently furnished; but our utensils were, most commonly, silver. we went up into a dining-room, about as large as your blue room, where we had something given us to eat, and tea and coffee. raarsa himself is a man of no inelegant appearance, and of manners uncommonly refined. lady raarsa makes no very sublime appearance for a sovereign, but is a good housewife, and a very prudent and diligent conductress of her family. miss flora macleod is a celebrated beauty; has been admired at edinburgh; dresses her head very high; and has manners so lady-like, that i wish her head-dress was lower. the rest of the nine girls are all pretty; the youngest is between queeney and lucy. the youngest boy, of four years old, runs barefoot, and wandered with us over the rocks to see a mill: i believe he would walk on that rough ground, without shoes, ten miles in a day. the laird of raarsa has sometimes disputed the chieftainry of the clan with macleod of skie, but, being much inferiour in extent of possessions, has, i suppose, been forced to desist. raarsa, and its provinces, have descended to its present possessour, through a succession of four hundred years, without any increase or diminution. it was, indeed, lately in danger of forfeiture, but the old laird joined some prudence with his zeal, and when prince charles landed in scotland, made over his estate to this son, the present laird, and led one hundred men of raarsa into the field, with officers of his own family. eighty-six only came back after the last battle. the prince was hidden, in his distress, two nights at raarsa, and the king's troops burnt the whole country, and killed some of the cattle. you may guess at the opinions that prevail in this country; they are, however, content with fighting for their king; they do not drink for him. we had no foolish healths. at night, unexpectedly to us, who were strangers, the carpet was taken up; the fiddler of the family came up, and a very vigorous and general dance was begun. as i told you, we were two and thirty at supper; there were full as many dancers; for, though all who supped did not dance, some danced of the young people who did not sup. raarsa himself danced with his children, and old malcolm, in his fillibeg, was as nimble, as when he led the prince over the mountains. when they had danced themselves weary, two tables were spread, and, i suppose, at least twenty dishes were upon them. in this country, some preparations of milk are always served up at supper, and sometimes, in the place of tarts, at dinner. the table was not coarsely heaped, but, at once, plentiful and elegant. they do not pretend to make a loaf; there are only cakes, commonly of oats or barley, but they made me very nice cakes of wheat flour. i always sat at the left hand of lady raarsa; and young macleod of skie, the chieftain of the clan, sat on the right. after supper, a young lady, who was visiting, sung erse songs, in which lady raarsa joined, prettily enough, but not gracefully; the young ladies sustained the chorus better. they are very little used to be asked questions, and not well prepared with answers. when one of the songs was over, i asked the princess, that sat next to me, "what is that about?" i question if she conceived that i did not understand it. "for the entertainment of the company," said she. "but, madam, what is the meaning of it?" "it is a love song." this was all the intelligence that i could obtain; nor have i been able to procure the translation of a single line of erse. at twelve it was bed-time. i had a chamber to myself, which, in eleven rooms to forty people, was more than my share. how the company and the family were distributed, is not easy to tell. macleod, the chieftain, and boswell, and i, had all single chambers, on the first floor. there remained eight rooms only, for, at least, seven and thirty lodgers. i suppose they put up temporary beds in the dining-room, where they stowed all the young ladies. there was a room above stairs with six beds, in which they put ten men. the rest in my next. xxiv.--to mrs. thrale. ostich in skie, sept. , . dearest madam,--i am still confined in skie. we were unskilful travellers, and imagined that the sea was an open road, which we could pass at pleasure; but we have now learned, with some pain, that we may still wait, for a long time, the caprices of the equinoctial winds, and sit reading or writing, as i now do, while the tempest is rolling the sea, or roaring in the mountains. i am now no longer pleased with the delay; you can hear from me but seldom, and i cannot at all hear from you. it comes into my mind, that some evil may happen, or that i might be of use while i am away. but these thoughts are vain; the wind is violent and adverse, and our boat cannot yet come. i must content myself with writing to you, and hoping that you will sometime receive my letter. now to my narrative. sept. th. having passed the night as is usual, i rose, and found the dining-room full of company; we feasted and talked, and when the evening came it brought musick and dancing. young macleod, the great proprietor of skie, and head of his clan, was very distinguishable; a young man of nineteen, bred awhile at st. andrew's, and afterwards at oxford, a pupil of g. strahan. he is a young man of a mind, as much advanced as i have ever known; very elegant of manners, and very graceful in his person. he has the full spirit of a feudal chief; and i was very ready to accept his invitation to dunvegan. all raarsa's children are beautiful. the ladies, all, except the eldest, are in the morning dressed in their hair. the true highlander never wears more than a riband on her head, till she is married. on the third day boswell went out, with old malcolm, to see a ruined castle, which he found less entire than was promised, but he saw the country. i did not go, for the castle was, perhaps, ten miles off, and there is no riding at raarsa, the whole island being rock or mountain, from which the cattle often fall, and are destroyed. it is very barren, and maintains, as near as i could collect, about seven hundred inhabitants, perhaps ten to a square mile. in these countries you are not to suppose that you shall find villages or inclosures. the traveller wanders through a naked desert, gratified sometimes, but rarely, with the sight of cows, and now and then finds a heap of loose stones and turf, in a cavity between rocks, where a being, born with all those powers which education expands, and all those sensations which culture refines, is condemned to shelter itself from the wind and rain. philosophers there are, who try to make themselves believe, that this life is happy; but they believe it only while they are saying it, and never yet produced conviction in a single mind; he whom want of words or images sunk into silence still thought, as he thought before, that privation of pleasure can never please, and that content is not to be much envied, when it has no other principle than ignorance of good. this gloomy tranquillity, which some may call fortitude, and others, wisdom, was, i believe, for a long time, to be very frequently found in these dens of poverty; every man was content to live like his neighbours, and, never wandering from home, saw no mode of life preferable to his own, except at the house of the laird, or the laird's nearest relations, whom he considered as a superiour order of beings, to whose luxuries or honours he had no pretensions. but the end of this reverence and submission seems now approaching; the highlanders have learned, that there are countries less bleak and barren than their own, where, instead of working for the laird, every man will till his own ground, and eat the produce of his own labour. great numbers have been induced, by this discovery, to go, every year, for some time past, to america. macdonald and macleod, of skie, have lost many tenants and many labourers; but raarsa has not yet been forsaken by a single inhabitant. rona is yet more rocky and barren than raarsa, and, though it contains, perhaps, four thousand acres, is possessed only by a herd of cattle and the keepers. i find myself not very able to walk upon the mountains, but one day i went out to see the walls, yet standing, of an ancient chapel. in almost every island the superstitious votaries of the romish church erected places of worship, in which the drones of convents, or cathedrals, performed the holy offices; but, by the active zeal of protestant devotion, almost all of them have sunk into ruin. the chapel at raarsa is now only considered as the burying-place of the family, and, i suppose, of the whole island. we would now have gone away, and left room for others to enjoy the pleasures of this little court; but the wind detained us till the th, when, though it was sunday, we thought it proper to snatch the opportunity of a calm day. raarsa accompanied us in his six-oared boat, which, he said, was his coach and six. it is, indeed, the vehicle in which the ladies take the air, and pay their visits, but they have taken very little care for accommodations. there is no way, in or out of the boat, for a woman, but by being carried; and in the boat thus dignified with a pompous name, there is no seat, but an occasional bundle of straw. thus we left raarsa; the seat of plenty, civility, and cheerfulness. we dined at a publick house at port re; so called, because one of the scottish kings landed there, in a progress through the western isles. raarsa paid the reckoning privately. we then got on horseback, and, by a short, but very tedious journey, came to kingsburgh, at which the same king lodged, after he landed. here i had the honour of saluting the far-famed miss flora macdonald, who conducted the prince, dressed as her maid, through the english forces, from the island of lewes; and, when she came to skie, dined with the english officers, and left her maid below. she must then have been a very young lady; she is now not old; of a pleasing person, and elegant behaviour. she told me, that she thought herself honoured by my visit; and, i am sure, that whatever regard she bestowed on me was liberally repaid. "if thou likest her opinions, thou wilt praise her virtue." she was carried to london, but dismissed without a trial, and came down with malcolm macleod, against whom sufficient evidence could not be procured. she and her husband are poor, and are going to try their fortune in america: "sic rerum volvitur orbis." at kingsburgh we were very liberally feasted, and i slept in the bed in which the prince reposed in his distress; the sheets which he used were never put to any meaner offices, but were wrapped up by the lady of the house, and at last, according to her desire, were laid round her in her grave. these are not whigs. on the th, travelling partly on horseback, where we could not row, and partly on foot, where we could not ride, we came to dunvegan, which i have described already. here, though poor macleod had been left by his grandfather overwhelmed with debts, we had another exhibition of feudal hospitality. there were two stags in the house, and venison came to the table every day in its various forms. macleod, besides his estate in skie, larger, i suppose, than some english counties, is proprietor of nine inhabited isles; and, of his islands uninhabited, i doubt if he very exactly knows the number. i told him that he was a mighty monarch. such dominions fill an englishman with envious wonder; but, when he surveys the naked mountains, and treads the quaking moor, and wanders over the wild regions of gloomy barrenness, his wonder may continue, but his envy ceases. the unprofitableness of these vast domains can be conceived only by the means of positive instances. the heir of col, an island not far distant, has lately told me, how wealthy he should be, if he could let rum, another of his islands, for twopence halfpenny an acre; and macleod has an estate, which the surveyor reports to contain eighty thousand acres, rented at six hundred pounds a year. while we were at dunvegan, the wind was high, and the rain violent, so that we were not able to put forth a boat to fish in the sea, or to visit the adjacent islands, which may be seen from the house; but we filled up the time, as we could, sometimes by talk, sometimes by reading. i have never wanted books in the isle of skie. we were invited one day by the laird and lady of muck, one of the western islands, two miles long, and three quarters of a mile high. he has half his island in his own culture, and upon the other half live one hundred and fifty dependants, who not only live upon the product, but export corn sufficient for the payment of their rent. lady macleod has a son and four daughters; they have lived long in england, and have the language and manners of english ladies. we lived with them very easily. the hospitality of this remote region is like that of the golden age. we have found ourselves treated, at every house, as if we came to confer a benefit. we were eight days at dunvegan, but we took the first opportunity which the weather afforded, after the first days, of going away, and, on the st, went to ulinish, where we were well entertained, and wandered a little after curiosities. in the afternoon, an interval of calm sunshine courted us out, to see a cave on the shore, famous for its echo. when we went into the boat, one of our companions was asked, in erse, by the boatmen, who they were, that came with him. he gave us characters, i suppose, to our advantage, and was asked, in the spirit of the highlands, whether i could recite a long series of ancestors. the boatmen said, as i perceived afterwards, that they heard the cry of an english ghost. this, boswell says, disturbed him. we came to the cave, and, clambering up the rocks, came to an arch, open at one end, one hundred and eighty feet long, thirty broad, in the broadest part, and about thirty high. there was no echo: such is the fidelity of report; but i saw, what i had never seen before, muscles and whilks, in their natural state. there was another arch in the rock, open at both ends. september rd. we removed to talisker, a house occupied by mr. macleod, a lieutenant colonel in the dutch service. talisker has been long in the possession of gentlemen, and, therefore, has a garden well cultivated, and, what is here very rare, is shaded by trees; a place where the imagination is more amused cannot easily be found. the mountains about it are of great height, with waterfalls succeeding one another so fast, that as one ceases to be heard, another begins. between the mountains there is a small valley, extending to the sea, which is not far off, beating upon a coast, very difficult of access. two nights before our arrival, two boats were driven upon this coast by the tempest; one of them had a pilot that knew the passage; the second followed, but a third missed the true course, and was driven forward, with great danger of being forced into the vast ocean, but, however, gained, at last, some other island. the crews crept to talisker, almost lifeless with wet, cold, fatigue, and terrour, but the lady took care of them. she is a woman of more than common qualifications; having travelled with her husband, she speaks four languages. you find, that all the islanders, even in these recesses of life, are not barbarous. one of the ministers, who has adhered to us almost all the time, is an excellent scholar. we have now with us the young laird of col, who is heir, perhaps, to two hundred square miles of land. he has first studied at aberdeen, and afterwards gone to hertfordshire, to learn agriculture, being much impressed with desire of improvement; he, likewise, has the notions of a chief, and keeps a piper. at macleod's the bagpipe always played, while we were dining. col has undertaken, by permission of the waves and wind, to carry us about several of the islands, with which he is acquainted enough to show us whatever curious is given by nature, or left by antiquity; but we grew afraid of deviating from our way home, lest we should be shut up for months upon some little protuberance of rock, that just appears above the sea, and, perhaps, is scarcely marked upon a map. you remember the doge of genoa, who being asked, what struck him most at the french court, answered, "myself." i cannot think many things here more likely to affect the fancy, than to see johnson ending his sixty-fourth year in the wilderness of the hebrides. but now i am here, it will gratify me very little to return without seeing, or doing my best to see, what those places afford. i have a desire to instruct myself in the whole system of pastoral life, but i know not whether i shall be able to perfect the idea. however, i have many pictures in my mind, which i could not have had without this journey, and should have passed it with great pleasure, had you, and master, and queeney, been in the party. we should have excited the attention, and enlarged the observation of each other, and obtained many pleasing topicks of future conversation. as it is, i travel with my mind too much at home, and, perhaps, miss many things worthy of observation, or pass them with transient notice; so that the images, for want of that reimpression which discussion and comparison produce, easily fade away; but i keep a book of remarks, and boswell writes a regular journal of our travels, which, i think, contains as much of what i say and do, as of all other occurrences together; "for such a faithful chronicler as griffith." i hope, dearest madam, you are equally careful to reposit proper memorials of all that happens to you and your family, and then, when we meet, we shall tell our stories. i wish you had gone this summer, in your usual splendour, to brighthelmstone. mr. thrale probably wonders, how i live all this time without sending to him for money. travelling in scotland is dear enough, dearer, in proportion to what the country affords, than in england, but residence in the isles is unexpensive. company is, i think, considered as a supply of pleasure, and a relief of that tediousness of life which is felt in every place, elegant or rude. of wine and punch they are very liberal, for they get them cheap; but as there is no custom-house on the island, they can hardly be considered as smugglers. their punch is made without lemons, or any substitute. their tables are very plentiful; but a very nice man would not be pampered. as they have no meat but as they kill it, they are obliged to live, while it lasts, upon the same flesh. they kill a sheep, and set mutton boiled and roast on the table together. they have fish, both of the sea and of the brooks; but they can hardly conceive that it requires any sauce. to sauce, in general, they are strangers: now and then butter is melted, but i dare not always take, lest i should offend by disliking it. barley broth is a constant dish, and is made well in every house. a stranger, if he is prudent, will secure his share, for it is not certain that he will be able to eat any thing else. their meat, being often newly killed, is very tough, and, as nothing is sufficiently subdued by the fire, is not easily to be eaten. carving is here a very laborious employment, for the knives are never whetted. table knives are not of long subsistence in the highlands: every man, while arms were a regular part of dress, had his knife and fork appendant to his dirk. knives they now lay upon the table, but the handles are apt to show that they have been in other hands, and the blades have neither brightness nor edge. of silver, there is no want, and it will last long, for it is never cleaned. they are a nation just rising from barbarity: long contented with necessaries, now somewhat studious of convenience, but not yet arrived at delicate discriminations. their linen is, however, both clean and fine. bread, such as we mean by that name, i have never seen in the isle of skie. they have ovens, for they bake their pies; but they never ferment their meal, nor mould a loaf. cakes of oats and barley are brought to the table, but i believe wheat is reserved for strangers. they are commonly too hard for me, and, therefore, i take potatoes to my meat, and am sure to find them on almost every table. they retain so much of the pastoral life, that some preparation of milk is commonly one of the dishes, both at dinner and supper. tea is always drunk at the usual times; but, in the morning, the table is polluted with a plate of slices of strong cheese. this is peculiar to the highlands; at edinburgh there are always honey and sweetmeats on the morning tea-table. strong liquors they seem to love. every man, perhaps, woman, begins the day with a dram; and the punch is made both at dinner and supper. they have neither wood nor coal for fuel, but burn peat or turf in their chimneys. it is dug out of the moors or mosses, and makes a strong and lasting fire, not always very sweet, and somewhat apt to smoke the pot. the houses of inferiour gentlemen are very small, and every room serves many purposes. in the bed-rooms, perhaps, are laid up stores of different kinds; and the parlour of the day is a bed-room at night. in the room which i inhabited last, about fourteen feet square, there were three chests of drawers, a long chest for larger clothes, two closet-cupboards, and the bed. their rooms are commonly dirty, of which they seem to have little sensibility, and if they had more, clean floors would be difficultly kept, where the first step from the door is into the dirt. they are very much inclined to carpets, and seldom fail to lay down something under their feet, better or worse, as they happen to be furnished. the highland dress, being forbidden by law, is very little used; sometimes it may be seen, but the english traveller is struck with nothing so much as the _nudité des pieds_ of the common people. skie is the greatest island, or the greatest but one, among the hebrides. of the soil, i have already given some account: it is generally barren, but some spots are not wholly unfruitful. the gardens have apples and pears, cherries, strawberries, raspberries, currants, and gooseberries, but all the fruit, that i have seen, is small. they attempt to sow nothing but oats and barley. oats constitute the bread-corn of the place. their harvest is about the beginning of october; and, being so late, is very much subject to disappointments from the rains that follow the equinox. this year has been particularly disastrous. their rainy season lasts from autumn to spring. they have seldom very hard frosts; nor was it ever known that a lake was covered with ice strong enough to bear a skater. the sea round them is always open. the snow falls, but soon melts; only in , they had a cold spring, in which the island was so long covered with it, that many beasts, both wild and domestick, perished, and the whole country was reduced to distress, from which i know not if it is even yet recovered. the animals here are not remarkably small; perhaps they recruit their breed from the mainland. the cows are sometimes without horns. the horned and unhorned cattle are not accidental variations, but different species: they will, however, breed together. october rd. the wind is now changed, and if we snatch the moment of opportunity, an escape from this island is become practicable; i have no reason to complain of my reception, yet i long to be again at home. you and my master may, perhaps, expect, after this description of skie, some account of myself. my eye is, i am afraid, not fully recovered; my ears are not mended; my nerves seem to grow weaker, and i have been otherwise not as well as i sometimes am, but think myself, lately, better. this climate, perhaps, is not within my degree of healthy latitude. thus i have given my most honoured mistress the story of me and my little ramble. we are now going to some other isle, to what we know not; the wind will tell us. i am, &c. xxv.--to mrs. thrale. mull, oct. , . dear madam,--though i have written to mr. thrale, yet having a little more time than was promised me, i would not suffer the messenger to go without some token of my duty to my mistress, who, i suppose, expects the usual tribute of intelligence, a tribute which i am not very able to pay. october rd. after having been detained, by storms, many days in skie, we left it, as we thought, with a fair wind; but a violent gust, which bos. had a great mind to call a tempest, forced us into col, an obscure island; on which --"nulla campis arbor aestiva recreatur aura." there is literally no tree upon the island, part of it is a sandy waste, over which it would be really dangerous to travel in dry weather, and with a high wind. it seems to be little more than one continued rock, covered, from space to space, with a thin layer of earth. it is, however, according to the highland notion, very populous, and life is improved beyond the manners of skie; for the huts are collected into little villages, and every one has a small garden of roots and cabbage. the laird has a new house built by his uncle, and an old castle inhabited by his ancestors. the young laird entertained us very liberally; he is heir, perhaps, to three hundred square miles of land, which, at ten shillings an acre, would bring him ninety-six thousand pounds a year. he is desirous of improving the agriculture of his country; and, in imitation of the czar, travelled for improvement, and worked, with his own hands, upon a farm in hertfordshire, in the neighbourhood of your uncle, sir thomas salusbury. he talks of doing useful things, and has introduced turnips for winter fodder. he has made a small essay towards a road. col is but a barren place. description has here few opportunities of spreading her colours. the difference of day and night is the only vicissitude. the succession of sunshine to rain, or of calms to tempests, we have not known; wind and rain have been our only weather. at last, after about nine days, we hired a sloop; and having lain in it all night, with such accommodations as these miserable vessels can afford, were landed yesterday on the isle of mull; from which we expect an easy passage into scotland. i am sick in a ship, but recover by lying down. i have not good health; i do not find that travelling much helps me. my nights are flatulent, though not in the utmost degree, and i have a weakness in my knees, which makes me very unable to walk. pray, dear madam, let me have a long letter. i am, &c. xxvi.--to mrs. thrale. inverary, oct. , . honoured mistress,--my last letters to you, and my dear master, were written from mull, the third island of the hebrides in extent. there is no post, and i took the opportunity of a gentleman's passage to the mainland. in mull we were confined two days by the weather; on the third we got on horseback, and, after a journey, difficult and tedious, over rocks naked, and valleys untracked, through a country of barrenness and solitude, we came, almost in the dark, to the seaside, weary and dejected, having met with nothing but water falling from the mountains that could raise any image of delight. our company was the young laird of col, and his servant. col made every maclean open his house, where he came, and supply us with horses, when we departed; but the horses of this country are small, and i was not mounted to my wish. at the seaside we found the ferryboat departed; if it had been where it was expected, the wind was against us, and the hour was late, nor was it very desirable to cross the sea, in darkness, with a small boat. the captain of a sloop, that had been driven thither by the storms, saw our distress, and, as we were hesitating and deliberating, sent his boat, which, by col's order, transported us to the isle of ulva. we were introduced to mr. macquarry, the head of a small clan, whose ancestors have reigned in ulva beyond memory, but who has reduced himself, by his negligence and folly, to the necessity of selling this venerable patrimony. on the next morning we passed the strait to inch kenneth, an island about a mile in length, and less than half a mile broad; in which kenneth, a scottish saint, established a small clerical college, of which the chapel walls are still standing. at this place i beheld a scene, which i wish you, and my master, and queeney had partaken. the only family on the island is that of sir allan, the chief of the ancient and numerous clan of maclean; the clan which claims the second place, yielding only to macdonald in the line of battle. sir allan, a chieftain, a baronet, and a soldier, inhabits, in this insulated desert, a thatched hut, with no chambers. young col, who owns him as his chief, and whose cousin was his lady, had, i believe, given him some notice of our visit; he received us with the soldier's frankness, and the gentleman's elegance, and introduced us to his daughters, two young ladies, who have not wanted education suitable to their birth, and who, in their cottage, neither forgot their dignity, nor affected to remember it. do not you wish to have been with us? sir allan's affairs are in disorder, by the fault of his ancestors: and, while he forms some scheme for retrieving them, he has retreated hither. when our salutations were over, he showed us the island. we walked, uncovered, into the chapel, and saw, in the reverend ruin, the effects of precipitate reformation. the floor is covered with ancient grave-stones, of which the inscriptions are not now legible; and without, some of the chief families still continue the right of sepulture. the altar is not yet quite demolished; beside it, on the right side, is a bass-relief of the virgin with her child, and an angel hovering over her. on the other side still stands a hand-bell, which, though it has no clapper, neither presbyterian bigotry, nor barbarian wantonness, has yet taken away. the chapel is thirty-eight feet long, and eighteen broad. boswell, who is very pious, went into it at night, to perform his devotions, but came back, in haste, for fear of spectres. near the chapel is a fountain, to which the water, remarkably pure, is conveyed from a distant hill, through pipes laid by the romish clergy, which still perform the office of conveyance, though they have never been repaired, since popery was suppressed. we soon after went in to dinner, and wanted neither the comforts nor the elegancies of life. there were several dishes, and variety of liquors. the servants live in another cottage; in which, i suppose, the meat is dressed. towards evening, sir allan told us, that sunday never passed over him, like another day. one of the ladies read, and read very well, the evening service;--and paradise was opened in the wild. next day, th, we went and wandered among the rocks on the shore, while the boat was busy in catching oysters, of which there is a great bed. oysters lie upon the sand, one, i think, sticking to another, and cockles are found a few inches under the sand. we then went in the boat to sondiland, a little island very near. we found it a wild rock, of about ten acres; part naked, part covered with sand, out of which we picked shells; and part clothed with a thin layer of mould, on the grass of which a few sheep are sometimes fed. we then came back and dined. i passed part of the afternoon in reading, and in the evening one of the ladies played on her harpsichord, and boswell and col danced a reel with the other. on the th, we persuaded sir allan to lanch his boat again, and go with us to icolmkill, where the first great preacher of christianity to the scots built a church, and settled a monastery. in our way we stopped to examine a very uncommon cave on the coast of mull. we had some difficulty to make our way over the vast masses of broken rocks that lie before the entrance, and at the mouth were embarrassed with stones, which the sea had accumulated, as at brighthelmstone; but, as we advanced, we reached a floor of soft sand, and, as we left the light behind us, walked along a very spacious cavity, vaulted over head with an arch almost regular, by which a mountain was sustained, at least a very lofty rock. from this magnificent cavern, went a narrow passage to the right hand, which we entered with a candle; and though it was obstructed with great stones, clambered over them to a second expansion of the cave, in which there lies a great square stone, which might serve as a table. the air here was very warm, but not oppressive, and the flame of the candle continued pyramidal. the cave goes onward to an unknown extent, but we were now one hundred and sixty yards under ground; we had but one candle, and had never heard of any that went farther and came back; we, therefore, thought it prudent to return. going forward in our boat, we came to a cluster of rocks, black and horrid, which sir allan chose for the place where he would eat his dinner. we climbed till we got seats. the stores were opened, and the repast taken. we then entered the boat again; the night came upon us; the wind rose; the sea swelled; and boswell desired to be set on dry ground: we, however, pursued our navigation, and passed by several little islands in the silent solemnity of faint moonshine, seeing little, and hearing only the wind and the water. at last, we reached the island, the venerable seat of ancient sanctity; where secret piety reposed, and where falling greatness was reposited. the island has no house of entertainment, and we manfully made our bed in a farmer's barn. the description i hope to give you another time. i am, &c. xxvii.--to mrs. thrale. edinburgh, nov. , . dearest madam,--among the possibilities of evil, which my imagination suggested at this distance, i missed that which has really happened. i never had much hope of a will in your favour, but was willing to believe that no will would have been made. the event is now irrevocable; it remains only to bear it. not to wish it had been different, is impossible; but as the wish is painful without use, it is not prudent, perhaps, not lawful, to indulge it. as life, and vigour of mind, and sprightliness of imagination, and flexibility of attention, are given us for valuable and useful purposes, we must not think ourselves at liberty to squander life, to enervate intellectual strength, to cloud our thoughts, or fix our attention, when, by all this expense, we know that no good can be produced. be alone as little as you can; when you are alone, do not suffer your thoughts to dwell on what you might have done, to prevent this disappointment. you, perhaps, could not have done what you imagine, or might have done it without effect. but even to think in the most reasonable manner, is, for the present, not so useful, as not to think. remit yourself solemnly into the hands of god, and then turn your mind upon the business and amusements which lie before you. "all is best," says chene, "as it has been, excepting the errours of our own free will." burton concludes his long book upon melancholy, with this important precept: "be not solitary; be not idle." remember chene's position, and observe burton's precept. we came hither on the ninth of this month. i long to come under your care, but, for some days, cannot decently get away. they congratulate our return, as if we had been with phipps, or banks; i am ashamed of their salutations. i have been able to collect very little for queeney's cabinet; but she will not want toys now, she is so well employed. i wish her success; and am not without some thought of becoming her schoolfellow. i have got an italian rasselas. surely my dear lucy will recover; i wish, i could do her good. i love her very much; and should love another godchild, if i might have the honour of standing to the next baby. i am, &c. xxviii.--to mrs. thrale. edinburgh, nov. , . my dearest mistress,--this is the last letter that i shall write; while you are reading it, i shall be coming home. i congratulate you upon your boy; but you must not think that i will love him, all at once, as well as i love harry; for harry, you know, is so rational. i shall love him by degrees. poor, pretty, dear lucy! can nothing do her good? i am sorry to lose her. but, if she must be taken from us, let us resign her, with confidence, into the hands of him who knows, and who only knows, what is best both for us and her. do not suffer yourself to be dejected. resolution and diligence will supply all that is wanting, and all that is lost. but if your health should be impaired, i know not where to find a substitute. i shall have no mistress; mr. thrale will have no wife; and the little flock will have no mother. i long to be home, and have taken a place in the coach for monday; i hope, therefore, to be in london on friday, the th, in the evening. please to let mrs. williams know. i am, &c. xxix.--to the same. lichfield, june , . dear madam,--now i hope you are thinking: shall i have a letter to-day from lichfield? something of a letter you will have; how else can i expect that you should write? and the morning, on which i should miss a letter, would be a morning of uneasiness, notwithstanding all that would be said or done by the sisters of stowhill, who do and say whatever good they can. they give me good words, and cherries, and strawberries. lady ****, and her mother and sister, were visiting there yesterday, and lady ---- took her tea before her mother. mrs. cobb is to come to miss porter's this afternoon. miss a--comes little near me. mr. langley, of ashbourne, was here to-day, in his way to birmingham, and every body talks of you. the ladies of the amicable society are to walk, in a few days, from the townhall to the cathedral, in procession, to hear a sermon. they walk in linen gowns, and each has a stick, with an acorn; but for the acorn they could give no reason, till i told them of the civick crown. i have just had your sweet letter, and am glad that you are to be at the regatta. you know how little i love to have you left out of any shining part of life. you have every right to distinction, and should, therefore, be distinguished. you will see a show with philosophick superiority, and, therefore, may see it safely. it is easy to talk of sitting at home, contented, when others are seeing, or making shows. but, not to have been where it is supposed, and seldom supposed falsely, that all would go if they could; to be able to say nothing, when every one is talking; to have no opinion, when every one is judging; to hear exclamations of rapture, without power to depress; to listen to falsehoods, without right to contradict, is, after all, a state of temporary inferiority, in which the mind is rather hardened by stubbornness, than supported by fortitude. if the world be worth winning, let us enjoy it; if it is to be despised, let us despise it by conviction. but the world is not to be despised, but as it is compared with something better. company is, in itself, better than solitude, and pleasure better than indolence: "ex nihilo nihil fit," says the moral, as well as the natural, philosopher. by doing nothing, and by knowing nothing, no power of doing good can be obtained. he must mingle with the world, that desires to be useful. every new scene impresses new ideas, enriches the imagination, and enlarges the power of reason, by new topicks of comparison. you, that have seen the regatta, will have images, which we, who miss it, must want; and no intellectual images are without use. but, when you are in this scene of splendour and gaiety, do not let one of your fits of negligence steal upon you. "hoc age," is the great rule, whether you are serious or merry; whether you are stating the expenses of your family, learning science, or duty, from a folio, or floating on the thames in a fancied dress. of the whole entertainment, let me not hear so copious, nor so true an account, from any body as from you. i am, dearest madam, your, &c. xxx.--to mrs. thrale. ashbourne. dear madam,--i am sure i write and write, and every letter that comes from you charges me with not writing. since i wrote to queeney i have written twice to you, on the th and the th: be pleased to let me know whether you have them, or have them not. that of the th you should regularly have had on the th, yet your letter of the th seems not to mention it; all this puzzles me. poor dear ****! he only grows dull, because he is sickly; age has not yet begun to impair him; nor is he such a chameleon as to take immediately the colour of his company. when you see him again you will find him reanimated. most men have their bright and their cloudy days; at least they have days when they put their powers into action, and days when they suffer them to repose. fourteen thousand pounds make a sum sufficient for the establishment of a family, and which, in whatever flow of riches or confidence of prosperity, deserves to be very seriously considered. i hope a great part of it has paid debts, and no small part bought land. as for gravelling, and walling, and digging, though i am not much delighted with them, yet something, indeed much, must be allowed to every man's taste. he that is growing rich has a right to enjoy part of the growth his own way. i hope to range in the walk, and row upon the water, and devour fruit from the wall. dr. taylor wants to be gardening. he means to buy a piece of ground in the neighbourhood, and surround it with a wall, and build a gardener's house upon it, and have fruit, and be happy. much happiness it will not bring him; but what can he do better? if i had money enough, what would i do? perhaps, if you and master did not hold me, i might go to cairo, and down the red sea to bengal, and take a ramble in india. would this be better than building and planting? it would surely give more variety to the eye, and more amplitude to the mind. half fourteen thousand would send me out to see other forms of existence, and bring me back to describe them. i answer this the day on which i had yours of the th, that is on the th. let me know when it comes. i am, &c. xxxi.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, august , . madam,--i dined to-day at stowhill, and am come away to write my letter. never, surely, was i such a writer before. do you keep my letters? i am not of your opinion, that i shall not like to read them hereafter; for though there is in them not much history of mind, or anything else, they will, i hope, always be, in some degree, the records of a pure and blameless friendship, and, in some hours of languor and sadness, may revive the memory of more cheerful times. why you should suppose yourself not desirous hereafter to read the history of your own mind, i do not see. twelve years, on which you now look, as on a vast expanse of life, will, probably, be passed over uniformly and smoothly, with very little perception of your progress, and with very few remarks upon the way. the accumulation of knowledge, which you promise to yourself, by which the future is to look back upon the present, with the superiority of manhood to infancy, will, perhaps, never be attempted, or never will be made; and you will find, as millions have found before you, that forty-five has made little sensible addition to thirty-three. as the body, after a certain time, gains no increase of height, and little of strength, there is, likewise, a period, though more variable by external causes, when the mind commonly attains its stationary point, and very little advances its powers of reflection, judgment, and ratiocination. the body may acquire new modes of motion, or new dexterities of mechanick operations, but its original strength receives not improvement: the mind may be stored with new languages, or new sciences, but its power of thinking remains nearly the same, and, unless it attains new subjects of meditation, it commonly produces thoughts of the same force and the same extent, at very distant intervals of life; as the tree, unless a foreign fruit be ingrafted, gives, year after year, productions of the same form, and the same flavour. by intellectual force, or strength of thought, is meant the degree of power which the mind possesses of surveying the subject of meditation, with its circuit of concomitants, and its train of dependence. of this power, which all observe to be very different in different minds, part seems the gift of nature, and part the acquisition of experience. when the powers of nature have attained their intended energy, they can be no more advanced. the shrub can never become a tree. and it is not unreasonable to suppose, that they are, before the middle of life, in their full vigour. nothing then remains but practice and experience; and, perhaps, why they do so little, may be worth inquiry. but i have just now looked, and find it so late, that i will inquire against the next post night. i am, &c. xxxii.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, augusts, . dear madam,--instead of forty reasons for my return, one is sufficient, --that you wish for my company. i purpose to write no more till you see me. the ladies at stowhill and greenhill are unanimously of opinion, that it will be best to take a post chaise, and not to be troubled with the vexations of a common carriage. i will venture to suppose the ladies at streatham to be of the same mind. you will now expect to be told, why you will not be so much wiser, as you expect, when you have lived twelve years longer. it is said, and said truly, that experience is the best teacher; and it is supposed, that, as life is lengthened, experience is increased. but a closer inspection of human life will discover, that time often passes without any incident which can much enlarge knowledge, or ratify judgment. when we are young we learn much, because we are universally ignorant; we observe every thing, because every thing is new. but, after some years, the occurrences of daily life are exhausted; one day passes like another, in the same scene of appearances, in the same course of transactions: we have to do what we have often done, and what we do not try, because we do not wish to do much better; we are told what we already know, and, therefore, what repetition cannot make us know with greater certainty. he that has early learned much, perhaps, seldom makes, with regard to life and manners, much addition to his knowledge; not only, because, as more is known, there is less to learn, but because a mind, stored with images and principles, turns inwards for its own entertainment, and is employed in settling those ideas, which run into confusion, and in recollecting those which are stealing away; practices by which wisdom may be kept, but not gained. the merchant, who was at first busy in acquiring money, ceases to grow richer, from the time when he makes it his business only to count it. those who have families, or employments, are engaged in business of little difficulty, but of great importance, requiring rather assiduity of practice than subtilty of speculation, occupying the attention with images too bulky for refinement, and too obvious for research. the right is already known: what remains is only to follow it. daily business adds no more to wisdom, than daily lesson to the learning of the teacher. but of how few lives does not stated duty claim the greater part! far the greater part of human minds never endeavour their own improvement. opinions, once received from instruction, or settled by whatever accident, are seldom recalled to examination; having been once supposed to be right, they are never discovered to be erroneous, for no application is made of any thing that time may present, either to shake or to confirm them. from this acquiescence in preconceptions none are wholly free; between fear of uncertainty, and dislike of labour, every one rests while he might yet go forward; and they that were wise at thirty-three, are very little wiser at forty-five. of this speculation you are, perhaps, tired, and would rather hear of sophy. i hope, before this comes, that her head will be easier, and your head less filled with fears and troubles, which you know are to be indulged only to prevent evil, not to increase it. your uneasiness about sophy is, probably, unnecessary, and, at worst, your own children are healthful, and your affairs prosperous. unmingled good cannot be expected; but, as we may lawfully gather all the good within our reach, we may be allowed to lament after that which we lose. i hope your losses are at an end, and that, as far as the condition of our present existence permits, your remaining life will be happy. i am, &c. xxxiii.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, march , . dear madam,--this letter will not, i hope, reach you many days before me; in a distress which can be so little relieved, nothing remains for a friend, but to come and partake it. poor, dear, sweet little boy! when i read the letter this day to mrs. aston, she said, "such a death is the next to translation." yet, however i may convince myself of this, the tears are in my eyes, and yet i could not love him as you loved him, nor reckon upon him for a future comfort, as you and his father reckoned upon him. he is gone, and we are going! we could not have enjoyed him long, and shall not long be separated from him. he has, probably, escaped many such pangs as you are now feeling. nothing remains, but that, with humble confidence we resign ourselves to almighty goodness, and fall down, without irreverent murmurs, before the sovereign distributer of good and evil, with hope, that though sorrow endureth for a night, yet joy may come in the morning. i have known you, madam, too long to think that you want any arguments for submission to the supreme will; nor can my consolation have any effect, but that of showing that i wish to comfort you. what can be done, you must do for yourself. remember first, that your child is happy; and then, that he is safe, not only from the ills of this world, but from those more formidable dangers which extend their mischief to eternity. you have brought into the world a rational being; have seen him happy during the little life that has been granted him; and can have no doubt but that his happiness is now permanent and immutable. when you have obtained, by prayer, such tranquillity as nature will admit, force your attention, as you can, upon your accustomed duties and accustomed entertainments. you can do no more for our dear boy, but you must not, therefore, think less on those whom your attention may make fitter for the place to which he is gone. i am, dearest, dearest madam, your most affectionate humble servant. xxxiv.--to mrs. thrale. sept. , . dearest lady,--it is true, that i have loitered, and, what is worse, loitered with very little pleasure. the time has run away, as most time runs, without account, without use, and without memorial. but, to say this of a few weeks, though not pleasing, might be borne; but what ought to be the regret of him who, in a few days, will have so nearly the same to say of sixty-eight years? but complaint is vain. if you have nothing to say from the neighbourhood of the metropolis, what can occur to me, in little cities and petty towns; in places which we have both seen, and of which no description is wanted? i have left part of the company with which you dined here, to come and write this letter, in which i have nothing to tell, but that my nights are very tedious. i cannot persuade myself to forbear trying something. as you have now little to do, i suppose you are pretty diligent at the thraliana; and a very curious collection posterity will find it. do not remit the practice of writing down occurrences as they arise, of whatever kind, and be very punctual in annexing the dates. chronology, you know, is the eye of history; and every man's life is of importance to himself. do not omit painful casualties, or unpleasing passages; they make the variegation of existence; and there are many transactions, of which i will not promise, with aeneas, "et haec olim meminisse juvabit;" yet that remembrance which is not pleasant, may be useful. there is, however, an intemperate attention to slight circumstances, which is to be avoided, lest a great part of life be spent in writing the history of the rest. every day, perhaps, has something to be noted; but in a settled and uniform course, few days can have much. why do i write all this, which i had no thought of when i began! the thraliana drove it all into my head. it deserves, however, an hour's reflection, to consider how, with the least loss of time, the loss of what we wish to retain may be prevented. do not neglect to write to me, for when a post comes empty, i am really disappointed. boswell, i believe, will meet me here. i am, dearest lady, your, &c. xxxv.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, october , , dear madam,--this is the last time that i shall write, in this excursion, from this place. to-morrow i shall be, i hope, at birmingham; from which place i shall do my best to find the nearest way home. i come home, i think, worse than i went; and do not like the state of my health. but, "vive hodie," make the most of life. i hope to get better, and--sweep the cobwebs. but i have sad nights. mrs. aston has sent me to mr. greene, to be cured. did you see foote at brighthelmstone?--did you think he would so soon be gone?--life, says falstaff, is a shuttle. he was a fine fellow in his way; and the world is really impoverished by his sinking glories. murphy ought to write his life, at least, to give the world a footeiana. now, will any of his contemporaries bewail him? will genius change _his sex_ to weep? i would really have his life written with diligence. it will be proper for me to work pretty diligently now for some time. i hope to get through, though so many weeks have passed. little lives and little criticisms may serve. having been in the country so long, with very little to detain me, i am rather glad to look homewards. i am, &c. xxxvi.--to mrs. thrale. october , . dear madam,--yet i do love to hear from you: such pretty, kind letters as you send. but it gives me great delight to find that my master misses me, i begin to wish myself with you more than i should do, if i were wanted less. it is a good thing to stay away, till one's company is desired, but not so good to stay, after it is desired. you know i have some work to do. i did not set to it very soon; and if i should go up to london with nothing done, what would be said, but that i was--who can tell what? i, therefore, stay till i can bring up something to stop their mouths, and then-- though i am still at ashbourne, i receive your dear letters, that come to lichfield, and you continue that direction, for i think to get thither as soon as i can. one of the does died yesterday, and i am afraid her fawn will be starved; i wish miss thrale had it to nurse; but the doctor is now all for cattle, and minds very little either does or hens. how did you and your aunt part? did you turn her out of doors, to begin your journey? or did she leave you by her usual shortness of visits? i love to know how you go on. i cannot but think on your kindness and my master's. life has, upon the whole, fallen short, very short, of my early expectation; but the acquisition of such a friendship, at an age, when new friendships are seldom acquired, is something better than the general course of things gives man a right to expect. i think on it with great delight: i am not very apt to be delighted. i am, &c. xxxvii.--to mrs. thrale. lichfield, october , . dear madam,--you talk of writing and writing, as if you had all the writing to yourself. if our correspondence were printed, i am sure posterity, for posterity is always the author's favourite, would say that i am a good writer too.--"anch'io sono pittore." to sit down so often with nothing to say; to say something so often, almost without consciousness of saying, and without any remembrance of having said, is a power of which i will not violate my modesty by boasting, but i do not believe that every body has it. some, when they write to their friends, are all affection; some are wise and sententious; some strain their powers for efforts of gaiety; some write news, and some write secrets; but to make a letter without affection, without wisdom, without gaiety, without news, and without a secret, is, doubtless, the great epistolick art. in a man's letters, you know, madam, his soul lies naked, his letters are only the mirror of his breast; whatever passes within him, is shown, undisguised, in its natural process; nothing is inverted, nothing distorted: you see systems in their elements; you discover actions in their motives. of this great truth, sounded by the knowing to the ignorant, and so echoed by the ignorant to the knowing, what evidence have you now before you? is not my soul laid open in these veracious pages? do not you see me reduced to my first principles? this is the pleasure of corresponding with a friend, where doubt and distrust have no place, and every thing is said as it is thought. the original idea is laid down in its simple purity, and all the supervenient conceptions are spread over it, "stratum super stratum," as they happen to be formed. these are the letters by which souls are united, and by which minds, naturally in unison, move each other, as they are moved themselves. i know, dearest lady, that in the perusal of this, such is the consanguinity of our intellects, you will be touched, as i am touched. i have, indeed, concealed nothing from you, nor do i expect ever to repent of having thus opened my heart. i am, &c. xxxviii.--to mrs. thrale. november , . dear madam,--and so, supposing that i might come to town, and neglect to give you notice, or thinking some other strange thought, but certainly thinking wrong, you fall to writing about me to tom davies, as if he could tell you anything that i would not have you know. as soon as i came hither, i let you know of my arrival; and the consequence is, that i am summoned to brighthelmstone, through storms, and cold, and dirt, and all the hardships of wintry journeys. you know my natural dread of all those evils; yet, to show my master an example of compliance, and to let you know how much i long to see you, and to boast how little i give way to disease, my purpose is to be with you on friday. i am sorry for poor nezzy, and hope she will, in time, be better; i hope the same for myself. the rejuvenescency of mr. scrase gives us both reason to hope, and, therefore, both of us rejoice in his recovery. i wish him well, besides, as a friend to my master. i am just come home from not seeing my lord mayor's show, but i might have seen, at least, part of it. but i saw miss wesley and her brothers; she sends her compliments. mrs. williams is come home, i think, a very little better. every body was an enemy to that wig.--we will burn it, and get drunk; for what is joy without drink? wagers are laid in the city about our success, which is yet, as the french call it, problematical. well--but, seriously, i think, i shall be glad to see you in your own hair; but do not take too much time in combing, and twisting, and papering, and unpapering, and curling, and frizling, and powdering, and getting out the powder, with all the other operations required in the cultivation of a head of hair; yet let it be combed, at least, once in three months on the quarterday.--i could wish it might be combed once at least, in six weeks; if i were to indulge my wishes but what are wishes without hopes, i should fancy the operation performed--one knows not when one has enough--perhaps, every morning. i am, dearest lady, your, &c. xxxix.--to mrs. thrale. ashbourne, june , . dear madam,--your account of mr. thrale's illness is very terrible; but when i remember that he seems to have it peculiar to his constitution, that, whatever distemper he has, he always has his head affected, i am less frighted. the seizure was, i think, not apoplectical but hysterical, and, therefore, not dangerous to life. i would have you, however, consult such physicians as you think you can best trust. broomfield seems to have done well and, by his practice, appears not to suspect an apoplexy. this is a solid and fundamental comfort. i remember dr. marsigli, an italian physician, whose seizure was more violent than mr. thrale's, for he fell down helpless, but his case was not considered as of much danger, and he went safe home, and is now a professor at padua. his fit was considered as only hysterical. i hope sir philip, who franked your letter, comforts you as well as mr. seward. if i can comfort you, i will come to you; but i hope you are now no longer in want of any help to be happy. i am, &c. the doctor sends his compliments; he is one of the people that are growing old. xl.--to mrs. thrale. ashbourne, june , . dear madam,--how near we are all to extreme danger. we are merry or sad, or busy or idle, and forget that death is hovering over us. you are a dear lady for writing again. the case, as you now describe it, is worse than i conceived it, when i read your first letter. it is still, however, not apoplectick, but seems to have something worse than hysterical--a tendency to a palsy, which, i hope, however, is now over. i am glad that you have heberden, and hope we are all safer. i am the more alarmed by this violent seizure, as i can impute it to no wrong practices, or intemperance of any kind, and, therefore, know not how any defence or preservative can be obtained. mr. thrale has, certainly, less exercise than when he followed the foxes; but he is very far from unwieldiness or inactivity, and further still from any vitious or dangerous excess. i fancy, however, he will do well to ride more. do, dear madam, let me know, every post, how he goes on. such sudden violence is very dreadful; we know not by what it is let loose upon us, nor by what its effects are limited. if my coming can either assist or divert, or be useful to any purpose, let me but know: i will soon be with you. mrs. kennedy, queeney's baucis, ended, last week, a long life of disease and poverty. she had been married about fifty years. dr. taylor is not much amiss, but always complaining. i am, &c. xli.--to mr. thrale. lichfield, june , . dear sir,--to show how well i think of your health, i have sent you a hundred pounds, to keep for me. it will come within one day of quarterday, and that day you must give me. i came by it in a very uncommon manner, and would not confound it with the rest. my wicked mistress talks as if she thought it possible for me to be indifferent or negligent about your health or hers. if i could have done any good, i had not delayed an hour to come to you; and i will come very soon, to try if my advice can be of any use, or my company of any entertainment. what can be done, you must do for yourself: do not let any uneasy thought settle in your mind. cheerfulness and exercise are your great remedies. nothing is, for the present, worth your anxiety. "vivite laeti" is one of the great rules of health. i believe it will be good to ride often, but never to weariness, for weariness is, itself, a temporary resolution of the nerves, and is, therefore, to be avoided. labour is exercise continued to fatigue--exercise is labour used only, while it produces pleasure. above all, keep your mind quiet: do not think with earnestness even of your health; but think on such things as may please without too much agitation; among which, i hope, is, dear sir, your, &c. xlii.--to mrs. thrale. dear madam,--on sunday i dined with poor lawrence, who is deafer than ever. when he was told that dr. moisy visited mr. thrale, he inquired for what? and said there was nothing to be done, which nature would not do for herself. on sunday evening, i was at mrs. vesy's, and there was inquiry about my master, but i told them all good. there was dr. bernard of eton, and we made a noise all the evening; and there was pepys, and wraxal, till i drove him away. and i have no loss of my mistress, who laughs, and frisks, and frolicks it all the long day, and never thinks of poor colin. if mr. thrale will but continue to mend, we shall, i hope, come together again, and do as good things as ever we did; but, perhaps, you will be made too proud to heed me, and yet, as i have often told you, it will not be easy for you to find such another. queeney has been a good girl, and wrote me a letter; if burney said she would write, she told you a fib. she writes nothing to me. she can write home fast enough. i have a good mind not to let her know that dr. bernard, to whom i had recommended her novel, speaks of it with great commendation, and that the copy which she lent me, has been read by dr. lawrence three times over. and yet what a gipsy it is. she no more minds me than if i were a brangton. pray speak to queeney to write again. i have had a cold and a cough, and taken opium, and think i am better. we have had very cold weather; bad riding weather for my master, but he will surmount it all. did mrs. browne make any reply to your comparison of business with solitude, or did you quite down her? i am much pleased to think that mrs. cotton thinks me worth a frame, and a place upon her wall; her kindness was hardly within my hope, but time does wonderful things. all my fear is, that if i should come again, my print would be taken down. i fear i shall never hold it. who dines with you? do you see dr. woodward, or dr. harrington? do you go to the house where they write for the myrtle? you are at all places of high resort, and bring home hearts by dozens; while i am seeking for something to say about men, of whom i know nothing, but their verses, and, sometimes, very little of them. now i have begun, however, i do not despair of making an end. mr. nichols holds, that addison is the most taking of all that i have done. i doubt they will not be done, before you come away. now you think yourself the first writer in the world for a letter about nothing. can you write such a letter as this? so miscellaneous, with such noble disdain of regularity, like shakespeare's works; such graceful negligence of transition, like the ancient enthusiasts? the pure voice of nature and of friendship. now, of whom shall i proceed to speak? of whom but mrs. montague? having mentioned shakespeare and nature, does not the name of montague force itself upon me? such were the transitions of the ancients, which now seem abrupt, because the intermediate idea is lost to modern understandings. i wish her name had connected itself with friendship; but, ah, colin, thy hopes are in vain! one thing, however, is left me, i have still to complain; but i hope i shall not complain much, while you have any kindness for me. i am, dearest, and dearest madam, your, &c. london, april, , . xliii.--to mrs. thrale. dearest madam,--mr. thrale never will live abstinently, till he can persuade himself to abstain by rule. i lived on potatoes on friday, and on spinage to-day; but i have had, i am afraid, too many dinners of late. i took physick too both days, and hope to fast to-morrow. when he comes home, we will shame him, and jebb shall scold him into regularity. i am glad, however, that he is always one of the company, and that my dear queeney is again another. encourage, as you can, the musical girl. nothing is more common than mutual dislike, where mutual approbation is particularly expected. there is often on both sides a vigilance, not over-benevolent; and as attention is strongly excited, so that nothing drops unheeded, any difference in taste or opinion, and some difference, where there is no restraint, will commonly appear, immediately generates dislike. never let criticisms operate upon your face, or your mind; it is very rarely that an author is hurt by his criticks. the blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket; a very few names may be considered as perpetual lamps, that shine unconsumed. from the author of fitzosborne's letters, i cannot think myself in much danger. i met him only once, about thirty years ago, and, in some small dispute, reduced him to whistle; having not seen him since, that is the last impression. poor moore, the fabulist, was one of the company. mrs. montague's long stay, against her own inclination, is very convenient. you would, by your own confession, want a companion; and she is "par pluribus," conversing with her you may "find variety in one." at mrs. ord's i met one mrs. b--, a travelled lady, of great spirit, and some consciousness of her own abilities. we had a contest of gallantry, an hour long, so much to the diversion of the company, that at ramsay's, last night, in a crowded room, they would have pitted us again. there were smelt, and the bishop of st. asaph, who comes to every place; and lord monboddo, and sir joshua, and ladies out of tale. the exhibition, how will you do either to see or not to see! the exhibition is eminently splendid. there is contour, and keeping, and grace, and expression, and all the varieties of artificial excellence. the apartments were truly very noble. the pictures, for the sake of a skylight, are at the top of the house; there we dined, and i sat over against the archbishop of york. see how i live, when i am not under petticoat government. i am, &c. london, may , . xliv.--to mrs. thrale. london, june , . dear madam,--to the question, who was impressed with consternation? it may, with great truth, be answered, that every body was impressed, for nobody was sure of his safety. on friday, the good protestants met in st. george's fields, at the summons of lord george gordon, and marching to westminster, insulted the lords and commons, who all bore it with great tameness. at night, the outrages began, by the demolition of the mass-house by lincoln's inn. an exact journal of a week's defiance of government, i cannot give you. on monday, mr. strahan, who had been insulted, spoke to lord mansfield, who had, i think been insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and his lordship treated it, as a very slight irregularity. on tuesday night, they pulled down fielding's house and burnt his goods in the street. they had gutted, on monday sir george saville's house, but the building was saved. on tuesday evening, leaving fielding's ruins, they went to newgate, to demand their companions, who had been seized, demolishing the chapel. the keeper could not release them, but by the mayor's permission, which he went to ask; at his return, he found all the prisoners released, and newgate in a blaze. they then went to bloomsbury, and fastened upon lord mansfield's house which they pulled down; and as for his goods, they totally burnt them. they have since gone to caen wood, but a guard was there before them. they plundered some papists, i think, and burnt a mass-house in moorfields the same night. on wednesday, i walked with dr. scott, to look at newgate, and found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing as i went by, the protestants were plundering the sessions house at the old bailey. there were not, i believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leisure, in full security, without sentinels, without trepidation, as men lawfully employed in full day. such is the cowardice of a commercial place. on wednesday they broke open the fleet, and the king's bench, and the marshalsea, and wood street counter, and clerkenwell bridewell, and released all the prisoners. at night, they set fire to the fleet, and to the king's bench, and i know not how many other places; and one might see the glare of conflagration fill the sky from many parts. the sight was dreadful. some people were threatened; mr. strahan advised me to take care of myself. such a time of terrour you have been happy in not seeing. the king said, in council, that the magistrates had not done their duty, but that he would do his own; and a proclamation was published, directing us to keep our servants within doors, as the peace was now to be preserved by force. the soldiers were sent out to different parts, and the town is now at quiet. what has happened at your house, you will know; the harm is only a few butts of beer; and i think you may be sure that the danger is over. there is a body of soldiers at st. margaret's hill. of mr. tyson i know nothing, nor can guess to what he can allude; but i know that a young fellow of little more than seventy is naturally an unresisted conqueror of hearts. pray tell mr. thrale that i live here and have no fruit, and if he does not interpose, am not likely to have much; but, i think, he might as well give me a little, as give all to the gardener. pray make my compliments to queeney and burney. i am, &c. xlv.--to mrs. thrale. june , . dear madam,--you have, ere now, heard and read enough to convince you, that we have had something to suffer, and something to fear, and, therefore, i think it necessary to quiet the solicitude which you undoubtedly feel, by telling you that our calamities and terrours are now at an end. the soldiers are stationed so as to be every where within call; there is no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their holes, and led to prison; the streets are safe and quiet: lord george was last night sent to the tower. mr. john wilkes was, this day, with a party of soldiers, in my neighbourhood, to seize the publisher of a seditious paper. every body walks, and eats, and sleeps in security. but the history of the last week would fill you with amazement: it is without any modern example. several chapels have been destroyed, and several inoffensive papists have been plundered, but the high sport was to burn the gaols. this was a good rabble trick. the debtors and the criminals were all set at liberty; but, of the criminals, as has always happened, many are already retaken, and two pirates have surrendered themselves, and it is expected that they will be pardoned. government now acts again with its proper force; and we are all again under the protection of the king and the law. i thought that it would be agreeable to you and my master, to have my testimony to the publick security; and that you would sleep more quietly, when i told you, that you are safe. i am, dearest lady, your, &c. xlvi.--to mrs. thrale. london, april , . dearest madam,--of your injunctions, to pray for you, and write to you, i hope to leave neither unobserved; and i hope to find you willing, in a short time, to alleviate your trouble by some other exercise of the mind. i am not without my part of the calamity. no death, since that of my wife, has ever oppressed me like this. but let us remember, that we are in the hands of him who knows when to give and when to take away; who will look upon us, with mercy, through all our variations of existence, and who invites us to call on him in the day of trouble. call upon him in this great revolution of life, and call with confidence. you will then find comfort for the past, and support for the future. he that has given you happiness in marriage, to a degree of which, without personal knowledge, i should have thought the description fabulous, can give you another mode of happiness as a mother, and, at last, the happiness of losing all temporal cares, in the thoughts of an eternity in heaven. i do not exhort you to reason yourself into tranquillity. we must first pray, and then labour; first implore the blessing of god, and use those means which he puts into our hands. cultivated ground has few weeds; a mind, occupied by lawful business, has little room for useless regret. we read the will to-day; but i will not fill my first letter with any other account, than that, with all my zeal for your advantage, i am satisfied; and, that the other executors, more used to consider property than i, commended it for wisdom and equity. yet, why should i not tell you, that you have five hundred pounds for your immediate expenses, and two thousand pounds a year, with both the houses, and all the goods. let us pray for one another, that the time, whether long or short, that shall yet be granted us, may be well spent; and, that, when this life, which, at the longest, is very short, shall come to an end, a better may begin, which shall never end. i am, dearest madam, your, &c. xlvii.--to mrs. thrale. april , . dear madam,--i hope you begin to find your mind grow clearer. my part of the loss hangs upon me. i have lost a friend of boundless kindness, at an age when it is very unlikely that i should find another. if you think change of place likely to relieve you, there is no reason why you should not go to bath; the distances are unequal, but with regard to practice and business they are the same. it is a day's journey from either place; and the post is more expeditious and certain to bath. consult only your own inclination, for there is really no other principle of choice. god direct and bless you. mr. c--has offered mr. p--money, but it was not wanted. i hope we shall all do all we can to make you less unhappy, and you must do all you can for yourself. what we, or what you can do, will, for a time, be but little; yet, certainly, that calamity which may be considered as doomed to fall inevitably on half mankind, is not finally without alleviation. it is something for me, that, as i have not the decrepitude, i have not the callousness of old age. i hope, in time, to be less affected. i am, &c. xlviii.--to mrs. thrale. london, april , . dear madam,--that you are gradually recovering your tranquillity is the effect to be humbly expected from trust in god. do not represent life as darker than it is. your loss has been very great, but you retain more than almost any other can hope to possess. you are high in the opinion of mankind; you have children, from whom much pleasure may be expected; and that you will find many friends you have no reason to doubt. of my friendship, be it worth more or less, i hope you think yourself certain, without much art or care. it will not be easy for me to repay the benefits that i have received; but i hope to be always ready at your call. our sorrow has different effects; you are withdrawn into solitude, and i am driven into company. i am afraid of thinking what i have lost. i never had such a friend before. let me have your prayers and those of my dear queeney. the prudence and resolution of your design to return so soon to your business and your duty, deserves great praise; i shall communicate it, on wednesday, to the other executors. be pleased to let me know, whether you would have me come to streatham to receive you, or stay here till the next day. i am, &c. xlix.--to the same. bolt court, fleet street, june , . dear madam,--i am sitting down, in no cheerful solitude, to write a narrative, which would once have affected you with tenderness and sorrow, but which you will, perhaps, pass over now with a careless glance of frigid indifference. for this diminution of regard, however, i know not whether i ought to blame you, who may have reasons which i cannot know; and i do not blame myself, who have, for a great part of human life, done you what good i could, and have never done you evil. i have been disordered in the usual way, and had been relieved, by the usual methods, by opium and catharticks, but had rather lessened my dose of opium. on monday, the th, i sat for my picture, and walked a considerable way, with little inconvenience. in the afternoon and evening, i felt myself light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. thus i went to bed, and, in a short time, waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, when i felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, i suppose, about half a minute; i was alarmed, and prayed god, that, however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. this prayer, that i might try the integrity of my faculties, i made in latin verse. the lines were not very good, but i knew them not to be very good: i made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired in my faculties. soon after, i perceived that i had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. i had no pain, and so little dejection, in this dreadful state, that i wondered at my own apathy, and considered that, perhaps, death itself, when it should come, would excite less horrour than seems now to attend it. in order to rouse the vocal organs, i took two drams. wine has been celebrated for the production of eloquence. i put myself into violent motion, and, i think, repeated it; but all was vain. i then went to bed, and, strange as it may seem, i think, slept. when i saw light, it was time to contrive what i should do. though god stopped my speech, he left me my hand: i enjoyed a mercy, which was not granted to my dear friend lawrence, who now, perhaps, overlooks me, as i am writing, and rejoices that i have what he wanted. my first note was, necessarily, to my servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend, why he should read what i put into his hands. i then wrote a card to mr. allen, that i might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. in penning this note, i had some difficulty; my hand, i knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. i then wrote to dr. taylor, to come to me, and bring dr. heberden, and i sent to dr. brocklesby, who is my neighbour. my physicians are very friendly and very disinterested, and give me great hopes, but you may imagine my situation. i have so far recovered my vocal powers, as to repeat the lord's prayer, with no very imperfect articulation. my memory, i hope, yet remains as it was; but such an attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty. how this will be received by you, i know not. i hope you will sympathize with me; but, perhaps, "my mistress, gracious, mild, and good, cries: is he dumb? 'tis time he shou'd." but can this be possible? i hope it cannot. i hope that what, when i could speak, i spoke of you, and to you, will be, in a sober and serious hour, remembered by you; and, surely, it cannot be remembered but with some degree of kindness. i have loved you with virtuous affection; i have honoured you with sincere esteem. let not all our endearments be forgotten, but let me have, in this great distress, your pity and your prayers. you see, i yet turn to you with my complaints, as a settled and unalienable friend; do not, do not drive me from you, for i have not deserved either neglect or hatred. to the girls, who do not write often, for susy has written only once, and miss thrale owes me a letter, i earnestly recommend, as their guardian and friend, that they remember their creator in the days of their youth. i suppose, you may wish to know, how my disease is treated by the physicians. they put a blister upon my back, and two from my ear to my throat, one on a side. the blister on the back has done little, and those on the throat have not risen. i bullied and bounced, (it sticks to our last sand,) and compelled the apothecary to make his salve according to the edinburgh dispensatory, that it might adhere better. i have two on now of my own prescription. they, likewise, give me salt of hartshorn, which i take with no great confidence, but i am satisfied that what can be done, is done for me. o god! give me comfort and confidence in thee; forgive my sins; and, if it be thy good pleasure, relieve my diseases, for jesus christ's sake. amen. i am almost ashamed of this querulous letter; but now it is written, let it go. i am, &c. l.--to mrs. thrale. dear madam,--among those that have inquired after me, sir philip is one; and dr. burney was one of those who came to see me. i have had no reason to complain of indifference or neglect. dick burney is come home five inches taller. yesterday, in the evening, i went to church, and have been to-day to see the great burning-glass, which does more than was ever done before, by the transmission of the rays, but is not equal in power to those which reflect them. it wastes a diamond placed in the focus, but causes no diminution of pure gold. of the rubies, exposed to its action, one was made more vivid, the other paler. to see the glass, i climbed up stairs to the garret, and then up a ladder to the leads, and talked to the artist rather too long; for my voice, though clear and distinct for a little while, soon tires and falters. the organs of speech are yet very feeble, but will, i hope, be, by the mercy of god, finally restored: at present, like any other weak limb, they can endure but little labour at once. would you not have been very sorry for me, when i could scarcely speak? fresh cantharides were this morning applied to my head, and are to be continued some time longer. if they play me no treacherous tricks, they give me very little pain. let me have your kindness and your prayers; and think on me, as on a man, who, for a very great portion of your life has done you all the good he could, and desires still to be considered, madam, your, &c. li.--to mrs. thrale. london, july , . dearest madam,--this morning i took the air by a ride to hampstead, and this afternoon i dined with the club. but fresh cantharides were this day applied to my head. mr. cator called on me to-day, and told me, that he had invited you back to streatham. i showed the unfitness of your return thither, till the neighbourhood should have lost its habits of depredation, and he seemed to be satisfied. he invited me, very kindly and cordially, to try the air of beckenham; and pleased me very much by his affectionate attention to miss vesy. there is much good in his character, and much usefulness in his knowledge. queeney seems now to have forgotten me. of the different appearance of the hills and valleys an account may, perhaps, be given, without the supposition of any prodigy! if she had been out, and the evening was breezy, the exhalations would rise from the low grounds very copiously; and the wind that swept and cleared the hills, would only, by its cold, condense the vapours of the sheltered valleys. murphy is just gone from me; he visits me very kindly, and i have no unkindness to complain of. i am sorry that sir philip's request was not treated with more respect, nor can i imagine what has put them so much out of humour; i hope their business is prosperous. i hope that i recover by degrees, but my nights are restless; and you will suppose the nervous system to be somewhat enfeebled. i am, madam, your, &c. lii.--to mrs. thrale. london, october , . two nights ago, mr. burke sat with me a long time; he seems much pleased with his journey. we had both seen stonehenge this summer, for the first time. i told him that the view had enabled me to confute two opinions which have been advanced about it. one, that the materials are not natural stones, but an artificial composition, hardened by time. this notion is as old as camden's time; and has this strong argument to support it, that stone of that species is nowhere to be found. the other opinion, advanced by dr. charlton, is, that it was erected by the danes. mr. bowles made me observe, that the transverse stones were fixed on the perpendicular supporters by a knob, formed on the top of the upright stone, which entered into a hollow, cut in the crossing stone. this is a proof, that the enormous edifice was raised by a people who had not yet the knowledge of mortar; which cannot be supposed of the danes, who came hither in ships, and were not ignorant, certainly, of the arts of life. this proves, likewise, the stones not to be factitious; for they that could mould such durable masses, could do much more than make mortar, and could have continued the transverse from the upright part with the same paste. you have, doubtless, seen stonehenge; and if you have not, i should think it a hard task to make an adequate description. it is, in my opinion, to be referred to the earliest habitation of the island, as a druidical monument of, at least, two thousand years; probably the most ancient work of man, upon the island. salisbury cathedral, and its neighbour stonehenge, are two eminent monuments of art and rudeness, and may show the first essay, and the last perfection in architecture. i have not yet settled my thoughts about the generation of light air, which i, indeed, once saw produced, but i was at the height of my great complaint. i have made inquiry, and shall soon be able to tell you how to fill a balloon. i am, madam, your, &c. liii.--to mrs. thrale. london, dec. , . dear madam,--the wearisome solitude of the long evenings did, indeed, suggest to me the convenience of a club in my neighbourhood, but i have been hindered from attending it by want of breath. if i can complete the scheme, you shall have the names and the regulations. the time of the year, for i hope the fault is rather in the weather than in me, has been very hard upon me. the muscles of my breast are much convulsed. dr. heberden recommends opiates, of which i have such horrour, that i do not think of them but _in extremis_. i was, however, driven to them, last night, for refuge, and, having taken the usual quantity, durst not go to bed, for fear of that uneasiness to which a supine posture exposes me, but rested all night in a chair, with much relief, and have been, to-day, more warm, active, and cheerful. you have more than once wondered at my complaint of solitude, when you hear that i am crowded with visits. "inopem me copia fecit." visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of sickness. they come, when i could sleep or read, they stay till i am weary, they force me to attend, when my mind calls for relaxation, and to speak, when my powers will hardly actuate my tongue. the amusements and consolations of languor and depression are conferred by familiar and domestick companions, which can be visited or called at will, and can, occasionally, be quitted or dismissed, who do not obstruct accommodation by ceremony, or destroy indolence by awakening effort. such society i had with levet and williams; such i had where--i am never likely to have it more. i wish, dear lady, to you and my dear girls, many a cheerful and pious christmas. i am, your, &c. liv.--to mrs. piozzi. london, july , . dear madam,--what you have done, however i may lament it, i have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injurious to me; i, therefore, breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, perhaps useless, but at least sincere. i wish that god may grant you every blessing, that you may be happy in this world, for its short continuance, and eternally happy in a better state; and whatever i can contribute to your happiness, i am very ready to repay, for that kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched. do not think slightly of the advice which i now presume to offer. prevail upon mr. piozzi to settle in england; you may live here with more dignity than in italy, and with more security; your rank will be higher, and your fortune more under your own eye. i desire not to detail all my reasons; but every argument of prudence and interest is for england, and only some phantoms of imagination seduce you to italy. i am afraid, however, that my counsel is vain, yet i have eased my heart by giving it. when queen mary took the resolution of sheltering herself in england, the archbishop of st. andrew's, attempting to dissuade her, attended on her journey; and when they came to the irremeable stream, that separated the two kingdoms, walked by her side into the water, in the middle of which he seized her bridle, and with earnestness, proportioned to her danger and his own affection, pressed her to return. the queen went forward.--if the parallel reaches thus far, may it go no farther.--the tears stand in my eyes. i am going into derbyshire, and hope to be followed by your good wishes, for i am, with great affection, your, &c. end of vol. i. _boswell's_ _life of johnson_ _including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales_ edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford in six volumes volume i.--life ( - ) m dccc lxxxvii the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. comprehending an account of his studies and numerous works, in chronological order; a series of his epistolary correspondence and conversations with many eminent persons; and various original pieces of his composition, never before published: the whole exhibiting a view of literature and literary men in great-britain, for near half a century, during which he flourished. _by james boswell, esq_. --_quò fit ut_ omnis _votiva pateat veluti descripta tabella_ vita senis.-- horat. the third edition, revised and augmented, in four volumes. london: printed by h. baldwin and son, for charles dilly, in the poultry. * * * * * m dcc xcix. to the reverend benjamin jowett, m.a., master of balliol college regius professor of greek in the university of oxford honorary ll.d. of the university of edinburgh honorary d.d. of the university of leyden who is not only 'an acute and knowing critic' but also 'johnsonianissimus' in grateful acknowledgment of the kindly interest that he has throughout taken in the progress of this work this edition of boswell's life of johnson is dedicated contents of vol. i. page dedication to sir joshua reynolds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . advertisement to the first edition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . advertisement to the second edition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . advertisement to the third edition . . . . . . . . . . . . . . chronological catalogue of the prose works of samuel johnson, ll.d . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . life of samuel johnson (sept. , -october ) . . . . - appendices a. johnson's debates in parliament . . . . . . . . . . . . . b. johnson's letters to his mother and miss porter in . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . c. johnson at cambridge . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . d. johnson's letter to dr. leland . . . . . . . . . . . . . e. johnson's 'engaging in politicks with h----n'. . . . . . f. johnson's first acquaintance with the thrales and his serious illness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . list of illustrations, &c. . samuel johnson, after the picture by sir joshua reynolds in the national gallery . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _frontispiece_ to vol. i. . facsimile of johnson's handwriting in his th year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. i, p. . . facsimile of a letter of johnson relating to _rasselas_ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. i, p. . . samuel johnson, from the portrait painted by sir joshua reynolds, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. i, p. . . samuel johnson, after the bust by nollekens . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _frontispiece_ to vol. ii. . facsimile of johnson's handwriting in his th year . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. ii, _to follow frontispiece_. . samuel johnson, after the painting by sir joshua reynolds, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _frontispiece to_ vol. iii. . facsimile of the round robin addressed to dr. johnson . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. iii, p. . . opie's portrait of johnson, from the engraving in the common room of university college . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. iii, _to face_ p. . . facsimile of dr. johnson's handwriting a month before his death . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. iv, _to face_ p. . . james boswell of auchinleck, esq., from the painting by sir joshua reynolds . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _frontispiece to_ vol. v. . facsimile of boswell's handwriting, , from a letter in the bodleian library . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. v, _to follow frontispiece_. . map of johnson and boswell's tour through scotland and the hebrides . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vol. v, _to face_ p. . . chart of johnson's contemporaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . frontispiece to vol. vi. preface. fielding, it is said, drank confusion to the man who invented the fifth act of a play. he who has edited an extensive work, and has concluded his labours by the preparation of a copious index, might well be pardoned, if he omitted to include the inventor of the preface among the benefactors of mankind. the long and arduous task that years before he had set himself to do is done, and the last thing that he desires is to talk about it. liberty is what he asks for, liberty to range for a time wherever he pleases in the wide and fair fields of literature. yet with this longing for freedom comes a touch of regret and a doubt lest the 'fresh woods and pastures new' may never wear the friendly and familiar face of the plot of ground within whose narrower confines he has so long been labouring, and whose every corner he knows so well. may-be he finds hope in the thought that should his new world seem strange to him and uncomfortable, ere long he may be called back to his old task, and in the preparation of a second edition find the quiet and the peace of mind that are often found alone in 'old use and wont.' with me the preparation of these volumes has, indeed, been the work of many years. boswell's _life of johnson_ i read for the first time in my boyhood, when i was too young for it to lay any hold on me. when i entered pembroke college, oxford, though i loved to think that johnson had been there before me, yet i cannot call to mind that i ever opened the pages of boswell. by a happy chance i was turned to the study of the literature of the eighteenth century. every week we were required by the rules of the college to turn into latin, or what we called latin, a passage from _the spectator_. many a happy minute slipped by while, in forgetfulness of my task, i read on and on in its enchanting pages. it was always with a sigh that at last i tore myself away, and sat resolutely down to write bad latin instead of reading good english. from addison in the course of time i passed on to the other great writers of his and the succeeding age, finding in their exquisitely clear style, their admirable common sense and their freedom from all the tricks of affectation, a delightful contrast to so many of the eminent authors of our own time. those troublesome doubts, doubts of all kinds, which since the great upheaval of the french revolution have harassed mankind, had scarcely begun to ruffle the waters of their life. even johnson's troubled mind enjoyed vast levels of repose. the unknown world alone was wrapped in stormy gloom; of this world 'all the complaints which were made were unjust[ ].' though i was now familiar with many of the great writers, yet boswell i had scarcely opened since my boyhood. a happy day came just eighteen years ago when in an old book-shop, almost under the shadow of a great cathedral, i bought a second-hand copy of a somewhat early edition of the _life_ in five well-bound volumes. of all my books none i cherish more than these. in looking at them i have known what it is to feel bishop percy's 'uneasiness at the thoughts of leaving his books in death[ ].' they became my almost inseparable companions. before long i began to note the parallel passages and allusions not only in their pages, but in the various authors whom i studied. yet in these early days i never dreamt of preparing a new edition. it fell to my lot as time went on to criticise in some of our leading publications works that bore both on boswell and johnson. such was my love for the subject that on one occasion, when i was called upon to write a review that should fall two columns of a weekly newspaper, i read a new edition of the _life_ from beginning to end without, i believe, missing a single line of the text or a single note. at length, 'towering in the confidence'[ ] of one who as yet has but set his foot on the threshold of some stately mansion in which he hopes to find for himself a home, i was rash enough more than twelve years ago to offer myself as editor of a new edition of boswell's _life of johnson_. fortunately for me another writer had been already engaged by the publisher to whom i applied, and my offer was civilly declined. from that time on i never lost sight of my purpose but when in the troubles of life i well-nigh lost sight of every kind of hope. everything in my reading that bore on my favourite author was carefully noted, till at length i felt that the materials which i had gathered from all sides were sufficient to shield me from a charge of rashness if i now began to raise the building. much of the work of preparation had been done at a grievous disadvantage. my health more than once seemed almost hopelessly broken down. nevertheless even then the time was not wholly lost. in the sleepless hours of many a winter night i almost forgot my miseries in the delightful pages of horace walpole's letters, and with pencil in hand and some little hope still in heart, managed to get a few notes taken. three winters i had to spend on the shores of the mediterranean. during two of them my malady and my distress allowed of no rival, and my work made scarcely any advance. the third my strength was returning, and in the six months that i spent three years ago in san remo i wrote out very many of the notes which i am now submitting to my readers. an interval of some years of comparative health that i enjoyed between my two severest illnesses allowed me to try my strength as a critic and an editor. in _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, which i published in the year , i reviewed the judgments passed on johnson and boswell by lord macaulay and mr. carlyle, i described oxford as it was known to johnson, and i threw light on more than one important passage in the _life_. the following year i edited boswell's _journal of a tour to corsica_ and his curious correspondence with the hon. andrew erskine. the somewhat rare little volume in which are contained the lively but impudent letters that passed between these two friends i had found one happy day in an old book-stall underneath the town hall of keswick. i hoped that among the almost countless readers of boswell there would be many who would care to study in one of the earliest attempts of his joyous youth the man whose ripened genius was to place him at the very head of all the biographers of whom the world can boast. my hopes were increased by the elegance and the accuracy of the typography with which my publishers, messrs. de la rue & co., adorned this reprint. i was disappointed in my expectations. these curious letters met with a neglect which they did not deserve. twice, moreover, i was drawn away from the task that i had set before me by other works. by the death of my uncle, sir rowland hill, i was called upon to edit his _history of the penny postage_, and to write his _life_. later on general gordon's correspondence during the first six years of his government of the soudan was entrusted to me to prepare for the press. in my _colonel gordon in central africa_ i attempted to do justice to the rare genius, to the wise and pure enthusiasm, and to the exalted beneficence of that great man. the labour that i gave to these works was, as regards my main purpose, by no means wholly thrown away. i was trained by it in the duties of an editor, and by studying the character of two such men, who, though wide as the poles asunder in many things, were as devoted to truth and accuracy as they were patient in their pursuit, i was strengthened in my hatred of carelessness and error. with all these interruptions the summer of was upon me before i was ready for the compositors to make a beginning with my work. in revising my proofs very rarely indeed have i contented myself in verifying my quotations with comparing them merely with my own manuscript. in almost all instances i have once more examined the originals. 'diligence and accuracy,' writes gibbon, 'are the only merits which an historical writer may ascribe to himself; if any merit indeed can be assumed from the performance of an indispensable duty[ ].' by diligence and accuracy i have striven to win for myself a place in johnson's _school_--'a school distinguished,' as sir joshua reynolds said, 'for a love of truth and accuracy[ ].' i have steadily set before myself boswell's example where he says:--'let me only observe, as a specimen of my trouble, that i have sometimes been obliged to run half over london, in order to fix a date correctly; which, when i had accomplished, i well knew would obtain me no praise, though a failure would have been to my discredit[ ].' when the variety and the number of my notes are considered, when it is known that a great many of the authors i do not myself possess, but that they could only be examined in the bodleian or the british museum, it will be seen that the labour of revising the proofs was, indeed, unusually severe. in the course of the eighteen months during which they have been passing through the press, fresh reading has given fresh information, and caused many an addition, and not a few corrections moreover to be made, in passages which i had previously presumed to think already complete. had it been merely the biography of a great man of letters that i was illustrating, such anxious care would scarcely have been needful. but boswell's _life of johnson_, as its author with just pride boasts on its title-page, 'exhibits a view of literature and literary men in great britain, for near half a century during which johnson flourished.' wide, indeed, is the gulf by which this half-century is separated from us. the reaction against the thought and style of the age over which pope ruled in its prime, and johnson in its decline,--this reaction, wise as it was in many ways and extravagant as it was perhaps in more, is very far from having spent its force. young men are still far too often found in our universities who think that one proof of their originality is a contempt of authors whose writings they have never read. books which were in the hands of almost every reader of the _life_ when it first appeared are now read only by the curious. allusions and quotations which once fell upon a familiar and a friendly ear now fall dead. men whose names were known to every one, now often have not even a line in a dictionary of biography. over manners too a change has come, and as johnson justly observes, 'all works which describe manners require notes in sixty or seventy years, or less[ ].' but it is not only boswell's narrative that needs illustration. johnson in his talk ranges over a vast number of subjects. in his capacious memory were stored up the fruits of an almost boundless curiosity, and a wide and varied reading. i have sought to follow him wherever a remark of his required illustration, and have read through many a book that i might trace to its source a reference or an allusion. i have examined, moreover, all the minor writings which are attributed to him by boswell, but which are not for the most part included in his collected works. in some cases i have ventured to set my judgment against boswell's, and have refused to admit that johnson was the author of the feeble pieces which were fathered on him. once or twice in the course of my reading i have come upon essays which had escaped the notice of his biographer, but which bear the marks of his workmanship. to these i have given a reference. while the minute examination that i have so often had to make of boswell's narrative has done nothing but strengthen my trust in his statements and my admiration of his laborious truthfulness, yet in one respect i have not found him so accurate as i had expected. 'i have,' he says, 'been extremely careful as to the exactness of my quotations[ ].' though in preparing his manuscript he referred in each case 'to the originals,' yet he did not, i conjecture, examine them once more in revising his proof-sheets. at all events he has allowed errors to slip in. these i have pointed out in my notes, for in every case where i could i have, i believe, verified his quotations. i have not thought that it was my duty as an editor to attempt to refute or even to criticise johnson's arguments. the story is told that when peter the great was on his travels and far from his country, some members of the russian council of state in st. petersburgh ventured to withstand what was known to be his wish. his walking-stick was laid upon the table, and silence at once fell upon all. in like manner, before that editor who should trouble himself and his readers with attempting to refute johnson's arguments, paradoxical as they often were, should be placed reynolds's portrait of that 'labouring working mind[ ].' it might make him reflect that if the mighty reasoner could rise up and meet him face to face, he would be sure, on which ever side the right might be, even if at first his pistol missed fire to knock him down with the butt-end of it[ ]. i have attempted therefore not to criticise but to illustrate johnson's statements. i have compared them with the opinions of the more eminent men among his contemporaries, and with his own as they are contained in other parts of his _life_, and in his writings. it is in his written works that his real opinion can be most surely found. 'he owned he sometimes talked for victory; he was too conscientious to make error permanent and pernicious by deliberately writing it[ ].' my numerous extracts from the eleven volumes of his collected works will, i trust, not only give a truer insight into the nature of the man, but also will show the greatness of the author to a generation of readers who have wandered into widely different paths. in my attempts to trace the quotations of which both johnson and boswell were somewhat lavish, i have not in every case been successful, though i have received liberal assistance from more than one friend. in one case my long search was rewarded by the discovery that boswell was quoting himself. that i have lighted upon the beautiful lines which johnson quoted when he saw the highland girl singing at her wheel[ ], and have found out who was 'one giffard,' or rather gifford, 'a parson,' is to me a source of just triumph. i have not known many happier hours than the one in which in the library of the british museum my patient investigation was rewarded and i perused _contemplation_. fifteen hitherto unpublished letters of johnson[ ]; his college composition in latin prose[ ]; a long extract from his manuscript diary[ ]; a suppressed passage in his _journey to the western islands_[ ]; boswell's letters of acceptance of the office of secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy[ ]; the proposal for the publication of a _geographical dictionary_ issued by johnson's beloved friend, dr. bathurst[ ]; and mr. recorder longley's record of his conversation with johnson on greek metres[ ], will, i trust, throw some lustre on this edition. in many notes i have been able to clear up statements in the text which were not fully understood even by the author, or were left intentionally dark by him, or have become obscure through lapse of time. i would particularly refer to the light that i have thrown on johnson's engaging in politics with william gerard hamilton[ ], and on burke's 'talk of retiring[ ].' in many other notes i have established boswell's accuracy against attacks which had been made on it apparently with success. it was with much pleasure that i discovered that the story told of johnson's listening to dr. sacheverel's sermon is not in any way improbable[ ], and that johnson's 'censure' of lord kames was quite just[ ]. the ardent advocates of total abstinence will not, i fear, be pleased at finding at the end of my long note on johnson's wine-drinking that i have been obliged to show that he thought that the gout from which he suffered was due to his temperance. 'i hope you persevere in drinking,' he wrote to his friend, dr. taylor. 'my opinion is that i have drunk too little[ ].' in the appendices i have generally treated of subjects which demanded more space than could be given them in the narrow limits of a foot-note. in the twelve pages of the essay on johnson's _debates in parliament_[ ] i have compressed the result of the reading of many weeks. in examining the character of george psalmanazar[ ] i have complied with the request of an unknown correspondent who was naturally interested in the history of that strange man, 'after whom johnson sought the most[ ].' in my essay on johnson's travels and love of travelling[ ] i have, in opposition to lord macaulay's wild and wanton rhetoric, shown how ardent and how elevated was the curiosity with which johnson's mind was possessed. in another essay i have explained, i do not say justified, his strong feelings towards the founders of the united states[ ]; and in a fifth i have examined the election of the lord mayors of london, at a time when the city was torn by political strife[ ]. to the other appendices it is not needful particularly to refer. in my index, which has cost me many months' heavy work, 'while i bore burdens with dull patience and beat the track of the alphabet with sluggish resolution[ ],' i have, i hope, shown that i am not unmindful of all that i owe to men of letters. to the dead we cannot pay the debt of gratitude that is their due. some relief is obtained from its burthen, if we in our turn make the men of our own generation debtors to us. the plan on which my index is made will, i trust, be found convenient. by the alphabetical arrangement in the separate entries of each article the reader, i venture to think, will be greatly facilitated in his researches. certain subjects i have thought it best to form into groups. under america, france ireland, london, oxford, paris, and scotland, are gathered together almost all the references to those subjects. the provincial towns of france, however, by some mistake i did not include in the general article. one important but intentional omission i must justify. in the case of the quotations in which my notes abound i have not thought it needful in the index to refer to the book unless the eminence of the author required a separate and a second entry. my labour would have been increased beyond all endurance and my index have been swollen almost into a monstrosity had i always referred to the book as well as to the matter which was contained in the passage that i extracted. though in such a variety of subjects there must be many omissions, yet i shall be greatly disappointed if actual errors are discovered. every entry i have made myself, and every entry i have verified in the proof-sheets, not by comparing it with my manuscript, but by turning to the reference in the printed volumes. some indulgence nevertheless may well be claimed and granted. if homer at times nods, an index-maker may be pardoned, should he in the fourth or fifth month of his task at the end of a day of eight hours' work grow drowsy. may i fondly hope that to the maker of so large an index will be extended the gratitude which lord bolingbroke says was once shown to lexicographers? 'i approve,' writes his lordship, 'the devotion of a studious man at christ church, who was overheard in his oratory entering into a detail with god, and acknowledging the divine goodness in furnishing the world with makers of dictionaries[ ].' in the list that i give in the beginning of the sixth volume of the books which i quote, the reader will find stated in full the titles which in the notes, through regard to space, i was forced to compress. the concordance of johnson's sayings which follows the index[ ] will be found convenient by the literary man who desires to make use of his strong and pointed utterances. next to shakespeare he is, i believe, quoted and misquoted the most frequently of all our writers. 'it is not every man that can _carry_ a _bon-mot_[ ].' bons-mots that are miscarried of all kinds of good things suffer the most. in this concordance the general reader, moreover, may find much to delight him. johnson's trade was wit and wisdom[ ], and some of his best wares are here set out in a small space. it was, i must confess, with no little pleasure that in revising my proof-sheets i found that the last line in my concordance and the last line in my six long volumes is johnson's quotation of goldsmith's fine saying; 'i do not love a man who is zealous for nothing.' in the 'forward' references in the notes to other passages in the book, the reader may be surprised at finding that while often i only give the date under which the reference will be found, frequently i am able to quote the page and volume. the explanation is a simple one: two sets of compositors were generally at work, and two volumes were passing through the press simultaneously. in the selection of the text which i should adopt i hesitated for some time. in ordinary cases the edition which received the author's final revision is the one which all future editors should follow. the second edition, which was the last that was brought out in boswell's life-time, could not, i became convinced, be conveniently reproduced. as it was passing through the press he obtained many additional anecdotes and letters. these he somewhat awkwardly inserted in an introduction and an appendix. he was engaged on his third edition when he died. 'he had pointed out where some of these materials should be inserted,' and 'in the margin of the copy which he had in part revised he had written notes[ ].' his interrupted labours were completed by edmond malone, to whom he had read aloud almost the whole of his original manuscript, and who had helped him in the revision of the first half of the book when it was in type[ ]. 'these notes,' says malone, 'are faithfully preserved.' he adds that 'every new remark, not written by the author, for the sake of distinction has been enclosed within crotchets[ ].' in the third edition therefore we have the work in the condition in which it would have most approved itself to boswell's own judgment. in one point only, and that a trifling one, had malone to exercise his judgment. but so skilful an editor was very unlikely to go wrong in those few cases in which he was called upon to insert in their proper places the additional material which the author had already published in his second edition. malone did not, however, correct the proof-sheets. i thought it my duty, therefore, in revising my work to have the text of boswell's second edition read aloud to me throughout. some typographical errors might, i feared, have crept in. in a few unimportant cases early in the book i adopted the reading of the second edition, but as i read on i became convinced that almost all the verbal alterations were boswell's own. slight errors, often of the nature of scotticisms, had been corrected, and greater accuracy often given. some of the corrections and additions in the third edition that were undoubtedly from his hand were of considerable importance. i have retained boswell's spelling in accordance with the wish that he expressed in the preface to his _account of corsica_. 'if this work,' he writes, 'should at any future period be reprinted, i hope that care will be taken of my orthography[ ].' the punctuation too has been preserved. i should be wanting in justice were i not to acknowledge that i owe much to the labours of mr. croker. no one can know better than i do his great failings as an editor. his remarks and criticisms far too often deserve the contempt that macaulay so liberally poured on them. without being deeply versed in books, he was shallow in himself. johnson's strong character was never known to him. its breadth and length, and depth and height were far beyond his measure. with his writings even he shows few signs of being familiar. boswell's genius, a genius which even to lord macaulay was foolishness, was altogether hidden from his dull eye. no one surely but a 'blockhead,' a 'barren rascal[ ],' could with scissors and paste-pot have mangled the biography which of all others is the delight and the boast of the english-speaking world. he is careless in small matters, and his blunders are numerous. these i have only noticed in the more important cases, remembering what johnson somewhere points out, that the triumphs of one critic over another only fatigue and disgust the reader. yet he has added considerably to our knowledge of johnson. he knew men who had intimately known both the hero and his biographer, and he gathered much that but for his care would have been lost for ever. he was diligent and successful in his search after johnson's letters, of so many of which boswell with all his persevering and pushing diligence had not been able to get a sight. the editor of mr. croker's _correspondence and diaries_[ ] goes, however, much too far when, in writing of macaulay's criticism, he says: 'the attack defeated itself by its very violence, and therefore it did the book no harm whatever. between forty and fifty thousand copies have been sold, although macaulay boasted with great glee that he had smashed it.' the book that macaulay attacked was withdrawn. that monstrous medley reached no second edition. in its new form all the worst excrescences had been cleared away, and though what was left was not boswell, still less was it unchastened croker. his repentance, however, was not thorough. he never restored the text to its old state; wanton transpositions of passages still remain, and numerous insertions break the narrative. it was my good fortune to become a sound boswellian before i even looked at his edition. it was not indeed till i came to write out my notes for the press that i examined his with any thoroughness. 'notes,' says johnson, 'are often necessary, but they are necessary evils[ ].' to the young reader who for the first time turns over boswell's delightful pages i would venture to give the advice johnson gives about shakespeare:-- 'let him that is yet unacquainted with the powers of shakespeare, and who desires to feel the highest pleasure that the drama can give, read every play from the first scene to the last with utter negligence of all his commentators. when his fancy is once on the wing, let it not stoop at correction or explanation. when his attention is strongly engaged let it disdain alike to turn aside to the name of theobald and of pope. let him read on through brightness and obscurity, through integrity and corruption; let him preserve his comprehension of the dialogue and his interest in the fable. and when the pleasures of novelty have ceased let him attempt exactness and read the commentators[ ].' so too let him who reads the _life of johnson_ for the first time read it in one of the _pre-crokerian_ editions. they are numerous and good. with his attention undiverted by notes he will rapidly pass through one of the most charming narratives that the world has ever seen, and if his taste is uncorrupted by modern extravagances, will recognise the genius of an author who, in addition to other great qualities, has an admirable eye for the just proportions of an extensive work, and who is the master of a style that is as easy as it is inimitable. johnson, i fondly believe, would have been pleased, perhaps would even have been proud, could he have foreseen this edition. few distinctions he valued more highly than those which he received from his own great university. the honorary degrees that it conferred on him, the gown that it entitled him to wear, by him were highly esteemed. in the clarendon press he took a great interest[ ]. the efforts which that famous establishment has made in the excellence of the typography, the quality of the paper, and the admirably-executed illustrations and facsimiles to do honour to his memory and to the genius of his biographer would have highly delighted him. to his own college he was so deeply attached that he would not have been displeased to learn that his editor had been nursed in that once famous 'nest of singing birds.' of boswell's pleasure i cannot doubt. how much he valued any tribute of respect from oxford is shown by the absurd importance that he gave to a sermon which was preached before the university by an insignificant clergyman more than a year and a half after johnson's death[ ]. when edmund burke witnessed the long and solemn procession entering the cathedral of st. paul's, as it followed sir joshua reynolds to his grave, he wrote: 'everything, i think, was just as our deceased friend would, if living, have wished it to be; for he was, as you know, not altogether indifferent to this kind of observances[ ].' it would, indeed, be presumptuous in me to flatter myself that in this edition everything is as johnson and boswell would, if living, have wished it. yet to this kind of observances, the observances that can be shown by patient and long labour, and by the famous press of a great university, neither man was altogether indifferent. should my work find favour with the world of readers, i hope again to labour in the same fields. i had indeed at one time intended to enlarge this edition by essays on boswell, johnson, mrs. thrale, and perhaps on other subjects. their composition would, however, have delayed publication more than seemed advisable, and their length might have rendered the volumes bulky beyond all reason. a more favourable opportunity may come. i have in hand a _selection of the wit and wisdom of dr. johnson_. i purpose, moreover, to collect and edit all of his letters that are not in the _life_. some hundreds of these were published by mrs. piozzi; many more are contained in mr. croker's edition; while others have already appeared in _notes and queries_[ ]. not a few, doubtless, are still lurking in the desks of the collectors of autographs. as a letter-writer johnson stands very high. while the correspondence of david garrick has been given to the world in two large volumes, it is not right that the letters of his far greater friend should be left scattered and almost neglected. 'he that sees before him to his third dinner,' says johnson, 'has a long prospect[ ].' my prospect is still longer; for, if health be spared, and a fair degree of public favour shown, i see before me to my third book. when i have published my _letters_, i hope to enter upon a still more arduous task in editing the _lives of the poets_. in my work i have received much kind assistance, not only from friends, but also from strangers to whom i had applied in cases where special knowledge could alone throw light on some obscure point. my acknowledgments i have in most instances made in my notes. in some cases, either through want of opportunity or forgetfulness, this has not been done. i gladly avail myself of the present opportunity to remedy this deficiency. the earl of crawford and balcarres i have to thank for so liberally allowing the original of the famous round robin, which is in his lordship's possession, to be reproduced by a photographic process for this edition. it is by the kindness of mr. j.l.g. mowat, m.a., fellow and bursar of pembroke college, oxford, that i have been able to make a careful examination of the johnsonian manuscripts in which our college is so rich. if the vigilance with which he keeps guard over these treasures while they are being inspected is continued by his successors in office, the college will never have to mourn over the loss of a single leaf. to the rev. w.d. macray, m.a., of the manuscript department of the bodleian, to mr. falconer madan, m.a., sub-librarian of the same library, and to mr. george parker, one of the assistants, i am indebted for the kindness with which they have helped me in my inquiries. to mr. w.h. allnutt, another of the assistants, i owe still more. when i was abroad, i too frequently, i fear, troubled him with questions which no one could have answered who was not well versed in bibliographical lore. it was not often that his acuteness was baffled, while his kindness was never exhausted. my old friend mr. e.j. payne, m.a., fellow of university college, oxford, the learned editor of the _select works of burke_ published by the clarendon press, has allowed me, whenever i pleased, to draw on his extensive knowledge of the history and the literature of the eighteenth century. mr. c.g. crump, b.a., of balliol college, oxford, has traced for me not a few of the quotations which had baffled my search. to mr. g.k. fortescue, superintendent of the reading room of the british museum, my most grateful acknowledgments are due. his accurate and extensive knowledge of books and his unfailing courtesy and kindness have lightened many a day's heavy work in the spacious room over which he so worthily presides. but most of all am i indebted to mr. c.e. doble, m.a., of the clarendon press. he has read all my proof-sheets, and by his almost unrivalled knowledge of the men of letters of the close of the seventeenth and of the beginning of the eighteenth centuries, he has saved my notes from some blunders and has enriched them with much valuable information. in my absence abroad he has in more instances than i care to think of consulted for me the bodleian library. it is some relief to my conscience to know that the task was rendered lighter to him by his intimate familiarity with its treasures, and by the deep love for literature with which he is inspired. there are other thanks due which i cannot here fittingly express. 'an author partakes of the common condition of humanity; he is born and married like another man; he has hopes and fears, expectations and disappointments, griefs and joys like a courtier or a statesman[ ].' in the hopes and fears, in the expectations and disappointments, in the griefs and joys--nay, in the very labours of his literary life, if his hearth is not a solitary one, he has those who largely share. i have now come to the end of my long labours. 'there are few things not purely evil,' wrote johnson, 'of which we can say without some emotion of uneasiness, _this is the last_[ ].' from this emotion i cannot feign that i am free. my book has been my companion in many a sad and many a happy hour. i take leave of it with a pang of regret, but i am cheered by the hope that it may take its place, if a lowly one, among the works of men who have laboured patiently but not unsuccessfully in the great and shining fields of english literature. g. b. h. clarens, switzerland: _march_ , . errata. vol. i, page , _n_. , l. , _read 'of.'_ " " , _n_. , l. , _for_ _read_ . " " , _n_. of p. , l. , _for_ guineas _read_ pounds. " " , l. , _for_ language, _read_ language.' vol. ii, page , _n_. , l. , _for_ proper. _read_ proper.' " " , l. , _for_ masters _read_ master vol. iii, page , l. , _read_ accessary. " " , _n_. , l. , _for_ , _read_ . " " , _n_. , l. , _for_ mrs. burney _read_ miss burney vol. iv, page , _n_. , l. , _for_ wharton _read_ warton " " , l. , _read_ after vol. v, page , _n_. , l. , _for 'boswell' read 'johnson.'_ vol. vi. " , col. , _insert_ eccles, rev. w., i. . dedication. _to sir joshua reynolds_. my dear sir, every liberal motive that can actuate an authour in the dedication of his labours, concurs in directing me to you, as the person to whom the following work should be inscribed. if there be a pleasure in celebrating the distinguished merit of a contemporary, mixed with a certain degree of vanity not altogether inexcusable, in appearing fully sensible of it, where can i find one, in complimenting whom i can with more general approbation gratify those feelings? your excellence not only in the art over which you have long presided with unrivalled fame, but also in philosophy and elegant literature, is well known to the present, and will continue to be the admiration of future ages. your equal and placid temper[ ], your variety of conversation, your true politeness, by which you are so amiable in private society, and that enlarged hospitality which has long made your house a common centre of union for the great, the accomplished, the learned, and the ingenious; all these qualities i can, in perfect confidence of not being accused of flattery, ascribe to you. if a man may indulge an honest pride, in having it known to the world, that he has been thought worthy of particular attention by a person of the first eminence in the age in which he lived, whose company has been universally courted, i am justified in availing myself of the usual privilege of a dedication, when i mention that there has been a long and uninterrupted friendship between us. [page : dedication.] if gratitude should be acknowledged for favours received, i have this opportunity, my dear sir, most sincerely to thank you for the many happy hours which i owe to your kindness,--for the cordiality with which you have at all times been pleased to welcome me,--for the number of valuable acquaintances to whom you have introduced me,--for the _noctes coenaeque deûm_[ ], which i have enjoyed under your roof[ ]. if a work should be inscribed to one who is master of the subject of it, and whose approbation, therefore, must ensure it credit and success, the _life of dr. johnson_ is, with the greatest propriety, dedicated to sir joshua reynolds, who was the intimate and beloved friend of that great man; the friend, whom he declared to be 'the most invulnerable man he knew; whom, if he should quarrel with him, he should find the most difficulty how to abuse[ ].' you, my dear sir, studied him, and knew him well: you venerated and admired him. yet, luminous as he was upon the whole, you perceived all the shades which mingled in the grand composition; all the little peculiarities and slight blemishes which marked the literary colossus. your very warm commendation of the specimen which i gave in my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, of my being able to preserve his conversation in an authentick and lively manner, which opinion the publick has confirmed, was the best encouragement for me to persevere in my purpose of producing the whole of my stores[ ]. in one respect, this work will, in some passages, be different from the former. in my _tour_, i was almost unboundedly open in my communications, and from my eagerness to display the wonderful fertility and readiness of johnson's wit, freely shewed to the world its dexterity, even when i was myself the object of it. i trusted that i should be liberally understood, as knowing very well what i was about, and by no means as simply unconscious of the pointed effects of the satire. i own, indeed, that i was arrogant enough to suppose that the tenour of the rest of the book would sufficiently guard me against such a strange imputation. but it seems i judged too well of the world; for, though i could scarcely believe it, i have been undoubtedly informed, that many persons, especially in distant quarters, not penetrating enough into johnson's character, so as to understand his mode of treating his friends, have arraigned my judgement, instead of seeing that i was sensible of all that they could observe. it is related of the great dr. clarke[ ], that when in one of his leisure hours he was unbending himself with a few friends in the most playful and frolicksome manner, he observed beau nash approaching; upon which he suddenly stopped:--'my boys, (said he,) let us be grave: here comes a fool.' the world, my friend, i have found to be a great fool, as to that particular, on which it has become necessary to speak very plainly. i have, therefore, in this work been more reserved[ ]; and though i tell nothing but the truth, i have still kept in my mind that the whole truth is not always to be exposed. this, however, i have managed so as to occasion no diminution of the pleasure which my book should afford; though malignity may sometimes be disappointed of its gratifications. [page : dedication.] i am, my dear sir, your much obliged friend, and faithful humble servant, james boswell. london, april , . advertisement to the first edition. i at last deliver to the world a work which i have long promised, and of which, i am afraid, too high expectations have been raised[ ]. the delay of its publication must be imputed, in a considerable degree, to the extraordinary zeal which has been shewn by distinguished persons in all quarters to supply me with additional information concerning its illustrious subject; resembling in this the grateful tribes of ancient nations, of which every individual was eager to throw a stone upon the grave of a departed hero, and thus to share in the pious office of erecting an honourable monument to his memory[ ]. [page : advertisement to the first edition.] the labour and anxious attention with which i have collected and arranged the materials of which these volumes are composed, will hardly be conceived by those who read them with careless facility[ ]. the stretch of mind and prompt assiduity by which so many conversations were preserved[ ], i myself, at some distance of time, contemplate with wonder; and i must be allowed to suggest, that the nature of the work, in other respects, as it consists of innumerable detached particulars, all which, even the most minute, i have spared no pains to ascertain with a scrupulous authenticity, has occasioned a degree of trouble far beyond that of any other species of composition. were i to detail the books which i have consulted, and the inquiries which i have found it necessary to make by various channels, i should probably be thought ridiculously ostentatious. let me only observe, as a specimen of my trouble, that i have sometimes been obliged to run half over london, in order to fix a date correctly; which, when i had accomplished, i well knew would obtain me no praise, though a failure would have been to my discredit. and after all, perhaps, hard as it may be, i shall not be surprized if omissions or mistakes be pointed out with invidious severity. i have also been extremely careful as to the exactness of my quotations; holding that there is a respect due to the publick which should oblige every authour to attend to this, and never to presume to introduce them with,--'_i think i have read_;'--or,--'_if i remember right_;'--when the originals may be examined[ ]. i beg leave to express my warmest thanks to those who have been pleased to favour me with communications and advice in the conduct of my work. but i cannot sufficiently acknowledge my obligations to my friend mr. _malone_, who was so good as to allow me to read to him almost the whole of my manuscript, and make such remarks as were greatly for the advantage of the work[ ]; though it is but fair to him to mention, that upon many occasions i differed from him, and followed my own judgement. i regret exceedingly that i was deprived of the benefit of his revision, when not more than one half of the book had passed through the press; but after having completed his very laborious and admirable edition of _shakspeare_, for which he generously would accept of no other reward but that fame which he has so deservedly obtained, he fulfilled his promise of a long-wished-for visit to his relations in ireland; from whence his safe return _finibus atticis_ is desired by his friends here, with all the classical ardour of _sic te diva potens cypri_[ ]; for there is no man in whom more elegant and worthy qualities are united; and whose society, therefore, is more valued by those who know him. it is painful to me to think, that while i was carrying on this work, several of those to whom it would have been most interesting have died. such melancholy disappointments we know to be incident to humanity; but we do not feel them the less. let me particularly lament the reverend _thomas warton_, and the reverend dr. _adams_. mr. _warton_, amidst his variety of genius and learning, was an excellent biographer. his contributions to my collection are highly estimable; and as he had a true relish of my _tour to the hebrides_, i trust i should now have been gratified with a larger share of his kind approbation. dr. _adams_, eminent as the head of a college, as a writer[ ], and as a most amiable man, had known _johnson_ from his early years, and was his friend through life. what reason i had to hope for the countenance of that venerable gentleman to this work, will appear from what he wrote to me upon a former occasion from oxford, november , :--'dear sir, i hazard this letter, not knowing where it will find you, to thank you for your very agreeable _tour_, which i found here on my return from the country, and in which you have depicted our friend so perfectly to my fancy, in every attitude, every scene and situation, that i have thought myself in the company, and of the party almost throughout. it has given very general satisfaction; and those who have found most fault with a passage here and there, have agreed that they could not help going through, and being entertained with the whole. i wish, indeed, some few gross expressions had been softened, and a few of our hero's foibles had been a little more shaded; but it is useful to see the weaknesses incident to great minds; and you have given us dr. johnson's authority that in history all ought to be told[ ].' such a sanction to my faculty of giving a just representation of dr. _johnson_ i could not conceal. nor will i suppress my satisfaction in the consciousness, that by recording so considerable a portion of the wisdom and wit of '_the brightest ornament of the eighteenth century_[ ].' i have largely provided for the instruction and entertainment of mankind. london, april , [ ]. advertisment to the second edition. that i was anxious for the success of a work which had employed much of my time and labour, i do not wish to conceal: but whatever doubts i at any time entertained, have been entirely removed by the very favourable reception with which it has been honoured[ ]. that reception has excited my best exertions to render my book more perfect; and in this endeavour i have had the assistance not only of some of my particular friends, but of many other learned and ingenious men, by which i have been enabled to rectify some mistakes, and to enrich the work with many valuable additions. these i have ordered to be printed separately in quarto, for the accommodation of the purchasers of the first edition[ ]. may i be permitted to say that the typography of both editions does honour to the press of mr. _henry baldwin_, now master of the worshipful company of stationers, whom i have long known as a worthy man and an obliging friend. in the strangely mixed scenes of human existence, our feelings are often at once pleasing and painful. of this truth, the progress of the present work furnishes a striking instance. it was highly gratifying to me that my friend, sir _joshua reynolds_, to whom it is inscribed, lived to peruse it, and to give the strongest testimony to its fidelity; but before a second edition, which he contributed to improve, could be finished, the world has been deprived of that most valuable man[ ]; a loss of which the regret will be deep, and lasting, and extensive, proportionate to the felicity which he diffused through a wide circle of admirers and friends[ ]. [page : advertisement to the second edition.] in reflecting that the illustrious subject of this work, by being more extensively and intimately known, however elevated before, has risen in the veneration and love of mankind, i feel a satisfaction beyond what fame can afford. we cannot, indeed, too much or too often admire his wonderful powers of mind, when we consider that the principal store of wit and wisdom which this work contains, was not a particular selection from his general conversation, but was merely his occasional talk at such times as i had the good fortune to be in his company[ ]; and, without doubt, if his discourse at other periods had been collected with the same attention, the whole tenor of what he uttered would have been found equally excellent. his strong, clear, and animated enforcement of religion, morality, loyalty, and subordination, while it delights and improves the wise and the good, will, i trust, prove an effectual antidote to that detestable sophistry which has been lately imported from france, under the false name of _philosophy_, and with a malignant industry has been employed against the peace, good order, and happiness of society, in our free and prosperous country; but thanks be to _god_, without producing the pernicious effects which were hoped for by its propagators. it seems to me, in my moments of self-complacency, that this extensive biographical work, however inferior in its nature, may in one respect be assimilated to the _odyssey_. amidst a thousand entertaining and instructive episodes the _hero_ is never long out of sight; for they are all in some degree connected with him; and _he_, in the whole course of the history, is exhibited by the authour for the best advantage of his readers. '--quid virtus et quid sapientia possit, utile proposuit nobis exemplar ulyssen[ ].' should there be any cold-blooded and morose mortals who really dislike this book, i will give them a story to apply. when the great _duke of marlborough_, accompanied by _lord cadogan_, was one day reconnoitering the army in flanders, a heavy rain came on, and they both called for their cloaks. _lord cadogan's_ servant, a good humoured alert lad, brought his lordship's in a minute. the dukes servant, a lazy sulky dog, was so sluggish, that his grace being wet to the skin, reproved him, and had for answer with a grunt, 'i came as fast as i could,' upon which the duke calmly said, '_cadogan_, i would not for a thousand pounds have that fellow's temper!' there are some men, i believe, who have, or think they have, a very small share of vanity. such may speak of their literary fame in a decorous style of diffidence. but i confess, that i am so formed by nature and by habit, that to restrain the effusion of delight, on having obtained such fame, to me would be truly painful. why then should i suppress it? why 'out of the abundance of the heart' should i not speak[ ]? let me then mention with a warm, but no insolent exultation, that i have been regaled with spontaneous praise of my work by many and various persons eminent for their rank, learning, talents and accomplishments; much of which praise i have under their hands to be reposited in my archives at _auchinleck_[ ]. an honourable and reverend friend speaking of the favourable reception of my volumes, even in the circles of fashion and elegance, said to me, 'you have made them all talk johnson.'--yes, i may add, i have _johnsonised_ the land; and i trust they will not only _talk_, but _think_, johnson. to enumerate those to whom i have been thus indebted, would be tediously ostentatious. i cannot however but name one whose praise is truly valuable, not only on account of his knowledge and abilities, but on account of the magnificent, yet dangerous embassy, in which he is now employed[ ], which makes every thing that relates to him peculiarly interesting. lord macartney favoured me with his own copy of my book, with a number of notes, of which i have availed myself. on the first leaf i found in his lordship's hand-writing, an inscription of such high commendation, that even i, vain as i am, cannot prevail on myself to publish it. july , [ ]. advertisement to the third edition. several valuable letters, and other curious matter, having been communicated to the author too late to be arranged in that chronological order which he had endeavoured uniformly to observe in his work, he was obliged to introduce them in his second edition, by way of _addenda_, as commodiously as he could. in the present edition these have been distributed in their proper places. in revising his volumes for a new edition, he had pointed out where some of these materials should be inserted; but unfortunately in the midst of his labours, he was seized with a fever, of which, to the great regret of all his friends, he died on the th of may, [ ]. all the notes that he had written in the margin of the copy which he had in part revised, are here faithfully preserved; and a few new notes have been added, principally by some of those friends to whom the author in the former editions acknowledged his obligations. those subscribed with the letter _b_ were communicated by dr. _burney_: those to which the letters _j b_ are annexed, by the rev. _j. blakeway_, of shrewsbury, to whom mr. _boswell_ acknowledged himself indebted for some judicious remarks on the first edition of his work: and the letters _j b-o_. are annexed to some remarks furnished by the author's second son, a student of brazen-nose college in oxford. some valuable observations were communicated by _james bindley_, esq., first commissioner in the stamp-office, which have been acknowledged in their proper places. for all those without any signature, mr. _malone_ is answerable.--every new remark, not written by the author, for the sake of distinction has been enclosed within crotchets: in one instance, however, the printer by mistake has affixed this mark to a note relative to the rev. _thomas fysche palmer_, which was written by mr. boswell. and therefore ought not to have been thus distinguished. [page : advertisement to the third edition.] i have only to add, that the proof-sheets of the present edition not having passed through my hands, i am not answerable for any typographical errours that may be found in it. having, however, been printed at the very accurate press of mr. _baldwin_, i make no doubt it will be found not less perfect than the former edition; the greatest care having been taken, by correctness and elegance to do justice to one of the most instructive and entertaining works in the english language. _edmond malone_[ ]. april , . a chronological catalogue of the _prose works[ ] of samuel johnson, ll.d_. [n.b. to those which he himself acknowledged is added _acknowl_. to those which may be fully believed to be his from internal evidence, is added _intern. evid_.] . abridgement and translation of lobo's voyage to abyssinia, _acknowl_. . part of a translation of father paul sarpi's history of the council of trent. _acknowl_. [n.b. as this work after some sheets were printed, suddenly stopped, i know not whether any part of it is now to be found.] _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface. _intern. evid_. life of father paul. _acknowl_. . a complete vindication of the licenser of the stage from the malicious and scandalous aspersions of mr. brooke, authour of gustavus vasa. _acknowl_. _marmor norfolciense_: or, an essay on an ancient prophetical inscription in monkish rhyme, lately discovered near lynne in norfolk; by probus britannicus. _acknowl_. [page : a chronological catalogue of prose works] _for the gentleman's magazine_. life of boerhaave. _acknowl_. address to the reader. _intern. evid_. appeal to the publick in behalf of the editor. _intern. evid_. considerations on the case of dr. trapp's sermons; a plausible attempt to prove that an authour's work may be abridged without injuring his property. _acknowl_. . _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface. _intern. evid_. life of admiral drake. _acknowl_. life of admiral blake. _acknowl_. life of philip barretier. _acknowl_. essay on epitaphs. _acknowl_. . _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface. _intern. evid_. a free translation of the jests of hierocles, with an introduction. _intern. evid_. debate on the _humble petition and advice_ of the rump parliament to cromwell in , to assume the title of king; abridged, methodized and digested. _intern. evid_. translation of abbé guyon's dissertation on the amazons. _intern. evid_. translation of fontenelle's panegyrick on dr. morin. _intern. evid_. . _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface. _intern. evid_. essay on the account of the conduct of the duchess of marlborough. _acknowl_. an account of the life of peter burman. _acknowl_. the life of sydenham, afterwards prefixed to dr. swan's edition of his works. _acknowl_. proposals for printing bibliotheca harleiana, or a catalogue of the library of the earl of oxford, afterwards prefixed to the first volume of that catalogue, in which the latin accounts of the books were written by him. _acknowl_. abridgement intitled, foreign history. _intern. evid_. essay on the description of china, from the french of du halde. _intern. evid_. . dedication to dr. mead of dr. james's medicinal dictionary. _intern. evid_. _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface, _intern. evid_. parliamentary debates under the name of debates in the senate of lilliput, from nov. , , to feb. , - , inclusive. _acknowl_. considerations on the dispute between crousaz and warburton on pope's essay on man. _intern. evid_. a letter announcing that the life of mr. savage was speedily to be published by a person who was favoured with his confidence. _intern. evid_. advertisement for osborne concerning the harleian catalogue. _intern. evid_. . life of richard savage. _acknowl_. preface to the harleian miscellany. _acknowl_. _for the gentleman's magazine_. preface. _intern. evid_. . miscellaneous observations on the tragedy of macbeth, with remarks on sir t.h.'s (sir thomas hanmer's) edition of shakspeare, and proposals for a new edition of that poet. _acknowl_. . plan for a dictionary of the english language, addressed to philip dormer, earl of chesterfield. _acknowl_. _for the gentleman's magazine_. . life of roscommon. _acknowl_. foreign history, november. _intern. evid_. _for dodsley's_ preceptor. preface. _acknowl_. vision of theodore the hermit. _acknowl_. . the rambler, the first paper of which was published th of march this year, and the last th of march , the day on which mrs. johnson died. _acknowl_. letter in the general advertiser to excite the attention of the publick to the performance of comus, which was next day to be acted at drury-lane playhouse for the benefit of milton's grandaughter. _acknowl_. preface and postscript to lauder's pamphlet intitled, 'an essay on milton's use and imitation of the moderns in his paradise lost.' _acknowl_. . life of cheynel in the miscellany called 'the student.' _acknowl_. letter for lauder, addressed to the reverend dr. john douglas, acknowledging his fraud concerning milton in terms of suitable contrition. _acknowl_. dedication to the earl of middlesex of mrs. charlotte lennox's 'female quixotte.' _intern. evid_.[ ] . dedication to john earl of orrery, of shakspeare illustrated, by mrs. charlotte lennox. _acknowl_. during this and the following year he wrote and gave to his much loved friend dr. bathurst the papers in the adventurer, signed t. _acknowl_. . life of edw. cave in the gentleman's magazine. _acknowl_. . a dictionary, with a grammar and history, of the english language. _acknowl_. an account of an attempt to ascertain the longitude at sea, by an exact theory of the variations of the magnetical needle, with a table of the variations at the most remarkable cities in europe from the year to . _acknowl_. this he wrote for mr. zachariah williams, an ingenious ancient welch gentleman, father of mrs. anna williams whom he for many years kindly lodged in his house. it was published with a translation into italian by signor baretti. in a copy of it which he presented to the bodleian library at oxford, is pasted a character of the late mr. zachariah williams, plainly written by johnson. _intern. evid_. . an abridgement of his dictionary. _acknowl_. several essays in the universal visitor, which there is some difficulty in ascertaining. all that are marked with two asterisks have been ascribed to him, although i am confident from internal evidence, that we should except from these 'the life of chaucer,' 'reflections on the state of portugal,' and 'an essay on architecture:' and from the same evidence i am confident that he wrote 'further thoughts on agriculture,' and 'a dissertation on the state of literature and authours.' the dissertation on the epitaphs written by pope he afterwards acknowledged, and added to his 'idler.' life of sir thomas browne prefixed to a new edition of his christian morals. _acknowl_. _in the literary magazine; or, universal review_, which began in january . his _original essays_ are preliminary address, _intern. evid_.. an introduction to the political state of great britain, _intern. evid_.. remarks on the militia bill, _intern. evid_.. observations on his britannick majesty's treaties with the empress of russia and the landgrave of hesse cassel. _intern. evid_.. observations on the present state of affairs. _intern. evid_.. memoirs of frederick iii. king of prussia. _intern. evid_.. in the same magazine his reviews_ are of the following books: 'birch's history of the royal society.'--'browne's christian morals.'--'warton's essay on the writings and genius of pope, vol. i.'--'hampton's translation of polybius.'--'sir isaac newton's arguments in proof of a deity.'--'borlase's history of the isles of scilly.'--'home's experiments on bleaching.'--'browne's history of jamaica.'--'hales on distilling sea waters, ventilators in ships, and curing an ill taste in milk.'--'lucas's essay on waters.'--'keith's catalogue of the scottish bishops.'--'philosophical transactions, vol. xlix.'--'miscellanies by elizabeth harrison.'--'evans's map and account of the middle colonies in america.'--'the cadet, a military treatise.'--'the conduct of the ministry relating to the present war impartially examined.' _intern. evid_.. 'mrs. lennox's translation of sully's memoirs.'--'letter on the case of admiral byng.'--'appeal to the people concerning admiral byng.'--'hanway's eight days' journey, and essay on tea.'--'some further particulars in relation to the case of admiral byng, by a gentleman of oxford.' _acknowl_. mr. jonas hanway having written an angry answer to the review of his essay on tea, johnson in the same collection made a reply to it. _acknowl_. this is the only instance, it is believed, when he condescended to take notice of any thing that had been written against him; and here his chief intention seems to have been to make sport. dedication to the earl of rochford of, and preface to, mr. payne's introduction to the game of draughts, _acknowl_. introduction to the london chronicle, an evening paper which still subsists with deserved credit. _acknowl_. . speech on the subject of an address to the throne after the expedition to rochefort; delivered by one of his friends in some publick meeting: it is printed in the gentleman's magazine for october . _intern. evid_. the first two paragraphs of the preface to sir william chambers's designs of chinese buildings, &c. _acknowl_. . the idler, which began april , in this year, and was continued till april , . _acknowl_. an essay on the bravery of the english common soldiers was added to it when published in volumes. _acknowl_. . rasselas prince of abyssinia, a tale. _acknowl_. advertisement for the proprietors of the idler against certain persons who pirated those papers as they came out singly in a newspaper called the universal chronicle or weekly gazette. _intern. evid_. for mrs. charlotte lennox's english version of brumoy,--'a dissertation on the greek comedy,' and the general conclusion of the book. _intern. evid_. introduction to the world displayed, a collection of voyages and travels. _acknowl_. three letters in the gazetteer, concerning the best plan for blackfriars bridge. _acknowl_. . address of the painters to george iii. on his accession to the throne. _intern. evid_. dedication of baretti's italian and english dictionary to the marquis of abreu, then envoy-extraordinary from spain at the court of great-britain. _intern. evid_. review in the gentleman's magazine of mr. tytler's acute and able vindication of mary queen of scots. _acknowl_. introduction to the proceedings of the committee for cloathing the french prisoners. _acknowl_. . preface to rolfs dictionary of trade and commerce. _acknowl_. corrections and improvements for mr. gwyn the architect's pamphlet, intitled 'thoughts on the coronation of george iii.' _acknowl_. . dedication to the king of the reverend dr. kennedy's complete system of astronomical chronology, unfolding the scriptures, quarto edition. _acknowl_. concluding paragraph of that work. _intern. evid_. preface to the catalogue of the artists' exhibition. _intern. evid_. . character of collins in the poetical calendar, published by fawkes and woty. _acknowl_. dedication to the earl of shaftesbury of the edition of roger ascham's english works, published by the reverend mr. bennet. _acknowl_. the life of ascham, also prefixed to that edition. _acknowl_. review of telemachus, a masque, by the reverend george graham of eton college, in the critical review. _acknowl_. dedication to the queen of mr. hoole's translation of tasso. _acknowl_. account of the detection of the imposture of the cock-lane ghost, published in the newspapers and gentleman's magazine. _acknowl_. . part of a review of grainger's 'sugar cane, a poem,' in the london chronicle. _acknowl_. review of goldsmith's traveller, a poem, in the critical review. _acknowl_. . the plays of william shakspeare, in eight volumes, vo. with notes. _acknowl_. . the fountains, a fairy tale, in mrs. williams's miscellanies. _acknowl_. . dedication to the king of mr. adams's treatise on the globes. _acknowl_. . character of the reverend mr. zachariah mudge, in the london chronicle. _acknowl_. . the false alarm. _acknowl_. . thoughts on the late transactions respecting falkland's islands. _acknowl_. . defence of a schoolmaster; dictated to me for the house of lords. _acknowl_. argument in support of the law of _vicious intromission_; dictated to me for the court of session in scotland. _acknowl_. . preface to macbean's 'dictionary of ancient geography.' _acknowl_. argument in favour of the rights of lay patrons; dictated to me for the general assembly of the church of scotland. _acknowl_. . the patriot. _acknowl_. . a journey to the western islands of scotland. _acknowl_. proposals for publishing the works of mrs. charlotte lennox, in three volumes quarto. _acknowl_. preface to baretti's easy lessons in italian and english. _intern. evid_. taxation no tyranny; an answer to the resolutions and address of the american congress. _acknowl_. argument on the case of dr. memis; dictated to me for the court of session in scotland. _acknowl_. argument to prove that the corporation of stirling was corrupt; dictated to me for the house of lords. _acknowl_. . argument in support of the right of immediate, and personal reprehension from the pulpit; dictated to me. _acknowl_. proposals for publishing an analysis of the scotch celtick language, by the reverend william shaw. _acknowl_. . dedication to the king of the posthumous works of dr. pearce, bishop of rochester. _acknowl_. additions to the life and character of that prelate; prefixed to those works. _acknowl_. various papers and letters in favour of the reverend dr. dodd. _acknowl_. . advertisement for his friend mr. thrale to the worthy electors of the borough of southwark. _acknowl_. the first paragraph of mr. thomas davies's life of garrick, _acknowl_. . prefaces biographical and critical to the works of the most eminent english poets; afterwards published with the title of lives of the english poets[ ]. _acknowl_. argument on the importance of the registration of deeds; dictated to me for an election committee of the house of commons. _acknowl_. on the distinction between tory and whig; dictated to me. _acknowl_. on vicarious punishments, and the great propitiation for the sins of the world, by jesus christ; dictated to me. _acknowl_. argument in favour of joseph knight, an african negro, who claimed his liberty in the court of session in scotland, and obtained it; dictated to me. _acknowl_. defence of mr. robertson, printer of the caledonian mercury, against the society of procurators in edinburgh, for having inserted in his paper a ludicrous paragraph against them; demonstrating that it was not an injurious libel; dictated to me. _acknowl_. . the greatest part, if not the whole, of a reply, by the reverend mr. shaw, to a person at edinburgh, of the name of clark, refuting his arguments for the authenticity of the poems published by mr. james macpherson as translations from ossian. _intern. evid_. . list of the authours of the universal history, deposited in the british museum, and printed in the gentleman's magazine for december, this year, _acknowl_. _various years_. letters to mrs. thrale. _acknowl_. prayers and meditations, which he delivered to the rev. mr. strahan, enjoining him to publish them, _acknowl_. sermons _left for publication_ by john taylor, ll.d. prebendary of westminster, and given to the world by the reverend samuel hayes, a.m. _intern. evid_. such was the number and variety of the prose works of this extraordinary man, which i have been able to discover, and am at liberty to mention; but we ought to keep in mind, that there must undoubtedly have been many more which are yet concealed; and we may add to the account, the numerous letters which he wrote, of which a considerable part are yet unpublished. it is hoped that those persons in whose possession they are, will favour the world with them. _james boswell_. * * * * * 'after my death i wish no other herald, no other speaker of my living actions, to keep mine honour from corruption, but such an honest chronicler as griffith[ ].' shakspeare, _henry viii. [act iv. sc. _.] the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. to write the life of him who excelled all mankind in writing the lives of others, and who, whether we consider his extraordinary endowments, or his various works, has been equalled by few in any age, is an arduous, and may be reckoned in me a presumptuous task. had dr. johnson written his own life, in conformity with the opinion which he has given[ ], that every man's life may be best written by himself; had he employed in the preservation of his own history, that clearness of narration and elegance of language in which he has embalmed so many eminent persons, the world would probably have had the most perfect example of biography that was ever exhibited. but although he at different times, in a desultory manner, committed to writing many particulars of the progress of his mind and fortunes, he never had persevering diligence enough to form them into a regular composition[ ]. of these memorials a few have been preserved; but the greater part was consigned by him to the flames, a few days before his death. [page : the author's qualifications.] as i had the honour and happiness of enjoying his friendship for upwards of twenty years; as i had the scheme of writing his life constantly in view; as he was well apprised of this circumstance[ ], and from time to time obligingly satisfied my inquiries, by communicating to me the incidents of his early years; as i acquired a facility in recollecting, and was very assiduous in recording, his conversation, of which the extraordinary vigour and vivacity constituted one of the first features of his character; and as i have spared no pains in obtaining materials concerning him, from every quarter where i could discover that they were to be found, and have been favoured with the most liberal communications by his friends; i flatter myself that few biographers have entered upon such a work as this, with more advantages; independent of literary abilities, in which i am not vain enough to compare myself with some great names who have gone before me in this kind of writing. [page : the life by sir j. hawkins.] since my work was announced, several lives and memoirs of dr. johnson have been published[ ], the most voluminous of which is one compiled for the booksellers of london, by sir john hawkins, knight[ ], a man, whom, during my long intimacy with dr. johnson, i never saw in his company, i think but once, and i am sure not above twice. johnson might have esteemed him for his decent, religious demeanour, and his knowledge of books and literary history; but from the rigid formality of his manners, it is evident that they never could have lived together with companionable ease and familiarity[ ]; nor had sir john hawkins that nice perception which was necessary to mark the finer and less obvious parts of johnson's character. his being appointed one of his executors, gave him an opportunity of taking possession of such fragments of a diary and other papers as were left; of which, before delivering them up to the residuary legatee, whose property they were, he endeavoured to extract the substance. in this he has not been very successful, as i have found upon a perusal of those papers, which have been since transferred to me. sir john hawkins's ponderous labours, i must acknowledge, exhibit a _farrago_, of which a considerable portion is not devoid of entertainment to the lovers of literary gossiping; but besides its being swelled out with long unnecessary extracts from various works (even one of several leaves from osborne's harleian catalogue, and those not compiled by johnson, but by oldys), a very small part of it relates to the person who is the subject of the book; and, in that, there is such an inaccuracy in the statement of facts, as in so solemn an authour is hardly excusable, and certainly makes his narrative very unsatisfactory. but what is still worse, there is throughout the whole of it a dark uncharitable cast, by which the most unfavourable construction is put upon almost every circumstance in the character and conduct of my illustrious friend[ ]; who, i trust, will, by a true and fair delineation, be vindicated both from the injurious misrepresentations of this authour, and from the slighter aspersions of a lady who once lived in great intimacy with him[ ]. [page : warburton's view of biography.] [page : the author's mode of procedure.] there is, in the british museum, a letter from bishop warburton to dr. birch, on the subject of biography; which, though i am aware it may expose me to a charge of artfully raising the value of my own work, by contrasting it with that of which i have spoken, is so well conceived and expressed, that i cannot refrain from here inserting it:-- 'i shall endeavor, (says dr. warburton,) to give you what satisfaction i can in any thing you want to be satisfied in any subject of milton, and am extremely glad you intend to write his life. almost all the life-writers we have had before toland and desmaiseaux[ ], are indeed strange insipid creatures; and yet i had rather read the worst of them, than be obliged to go through with this of milton's, or the other's life of boileau, where there is such a dull, heavy succession of long quotations of disinteresting passages, that it makes their method quite nauseous. but the verbose, tasteless frenchman seems to lay it down as a principle, that every life must be a book, and what's worse, it proves a book without a life; for what do we know of boileau, after all his tedious stuff? you are the only one, (and i speak it without a compliment) that by the vigour of your stile and sentiments, and the real importance of your materials, have the art, (which one would imagine no one could have missed,) of adding agreements to the most agreeable subject in the world, which is literary history[ ].' 'nov. , .' [page : not a panegyrick, but a life.] instead of melting down my materials into one mass, and constantly speaking in my own person, by which i might have appeared to have more merit in the execution of the work, i have resolved to adopt and enlarge upon the excellent plan of mr. mason, in his memoirs of gray[ ]. wherever narrative is necessary to explain, connect, and supply, i furnish it to the best of my abilities; but in the chronological series of johnson's life, which i trace as distinctly as i can, year by year, i produce, wherever it is in my power, his own minutes, letters, or conversation, being convinced that this mode is more lively, and will make my readers better acquainted with him, than even most of those were who actually knew him, but could know him only partially; whereas there is here an accumulation of intelligence from various points, by which his character is more fully understood and illustrated[ ]. indeed i cannot conceive a more perfect mode of writing any man's life, than not only relating all the most important events of it in their order, but interweaving what he privately wrote, and said, and thought; by which mankind are enabled as it were to see him live, and to 'live o'er each scene[ ]' with him, as he actually advanced through the several stages of his life. had his other friends been as diligent and ardent as i was, he might have been almost entirely preserved. as it is, i will venture to say that he will be seen in this work more completely than any man who has ever yet lived[ ]. and he will be seen as he really was; for i profess to write, not his panegyrick, which must be all praise, but his life; which, great and good as he was, must not be supposed to be entirely perfect. to be as he was, is indeed subject of panegyrick enough to any man in this state of being; but in every picture there should be shade as well as light, and when i delineate him without reserve, i do what he himself recommended, both by his precept and his example[ ]. [page : conversation best displays character.] 'if the biographer writes from personal knowledge, and makes haste to gratify the publick curiosity, there is danger lest his interest, his fear, his gratitude, or his tenderness overpower his fidelity, and tempt him to conceal, if not to invent. there are many who think it an act of piety to hide the faults or failings of their friends, even when they can no longer suffer by their detection; we therefore see whole ranks of characters adorned with uniform panegyrick, and not to be known from one another but by extrinsick and casual circumstances. "let me remember, (says hale,) when i find myself inclined to pity a criminal, that there is likewise a pity due to the country." if we owe regard to the memory of the dead, there is yet more respect to be paid to knowledge, to virtue and to truth[ ].' what i consider as the peculiar value of the following work, is, the quantity it contains of johnson's conversation; which is universally acknowledged to have been eminently instructive and entertaining; and of which the specimens that i have given upon a former occasion[ ], have been received with so much approbation, that i have good grounds for supposing that the world will not be indifferent to more ample communications of a similar nature. that the conversation of a celebrated man, if his talents have been exerted in conversation, will best display his character, is, i trust, too well established in the judgment of mankind, to be at all shaken by a sneering observation of mr. mason, in his _memoirs of mr. william whitehead_, in which there is literally no _life_, but a mere dry narrative of facts[ ]. i do not think it was quite necessary to attempt a depreciation of what is universally esteemed, because it was not to be found in the immediate object of the ingenious writer's pen; for in truth, from a man so still and so tame, as to be contented to pass many years as the domestick companion of a superannuated lord and lady[ ], conversation could no more be expected, than from a chinese mandarin on a chimney-piece, or the fantastick figures on a gilt leather skreen. [page : dr. johnson on biography.] if authority be required, let us appeal to plutarch, the prince of ancient biographers. [greek: oute tais epiphanestatais praxesi pantos enesti daelosis aretaes ae kakias, alla pragma brachu pollakis, kai raema, kai paidia tis emphasin aethous epoiaesen mallon ae machai murionekroi, kai parataxeis ai megistai, kai poliorkiai poleon.] nor is it always in the most distinguished atchievements that men's virtues or vices may be best discerned; but very often an action of small note, a short saying, or a jest, shall distinguish a person's real character more than the greatest sieges, or the most important battles[ ].' to this may be added the sentiments of the very man whose life i am about to exhibit. 'the business of the biographer is often to pass slightly over those performances and incidents which produce vulgar greatness, to lead the thoughts into domestick privacies, and display the minute details of daily life, where exteriour appendages are cast aside, and men excel each other only by prudence and by virtue. the account of thuanus is with great propriety said by its authour to have been written, that it might lay open to posterity the private and familiar character of that man, _cujus ingenium et candorem ex ipsius scriptis sunt olim semper miraturi_, whose candour and genius will to the end of time be by his writings preserved in admiration. 'there are many invisible circumstances, which whether we read as enquirers after natural or moral knowledge, whether we intend to enlarge our science, or increase our virtue, are more important than publick occurrences. thus sallust, the great master of nature, has not forgot in his account of catiline to remark, that his walk was now quick, and again slow, as an indication of a mind revolving[ ] with violent commotion. thus the story of melanchthon affords a striking lecture on the value of time, by informing us, that when he had made an appointment, he expected not only the hour, but the minute to be fixed, that the day might not run out in the idleness of suspence; and all the plans and enterprises of de witt are now of less importance to the world than that part of his personal character, which represents him as careful of his health, and negligent of his life. 'but biography has often been allotted to writers, who seem very little acquainted with the nature of their task, or very negligent about the performance. they rarely afford any other account than might be collected from publick papers, but imagine themselves writing a life, when they exhibit a chronological series of actions or preferments;[ ] and have so little regard to the manners[ ] or behaviour of their heroes, that more knowledge may be gained of a man's real character, by a short conversation with one of his servants, than from a formal and studied narrative, begun with his pedigree, and ended with his funeral. [page : reply to possible objections.] 'there are indeed, some natural reasons why these narratives are often written by such as were not likely to give much instruction or delight, and why most accounts of particular persons are barren and useless. if a life be delayed till interest and envy are at an end, we may hope for impartiality, but must expect little intelligence; for the incidents which give excellence to biography are of a volatile and evanescent kind, such as soon escape the memory, and are transmitted[ ] by tradition. we know how few can pourtray a living acquaintance, except by his most prominent and observable particularities, and the grosser features of his mind; and it may be easily imagined how much of this little knowledge may be lost in imparting it, and how soon a succession of copies will lose all resemblance of the original[ ].' i am fully aware of the objections which may be made to the minuteness on some occasions of my detail of johnson's conversation, and how happily it is adapted for the petty exercise of ridicule, by men of superficial understanding and ludicrous fancy; but i remain firm and confident in my opinion, that minute particulars are frequently characteristick, and always amusing, when they relate to a distinguished man. i am therefore exceedingly unwilling that any thing, however slight, which my illustrious friend thought it worth his while to express, with any degree of point, should perish. for this almost superstitious reverence, i have found very old and venerable authority, quoted by our great modern prelate, secker, in whose tenth sermon there is the following passage: '_rabbi david kimchi_, a noted jewish commentator, who lived about five hundred years ago, explains that passage in the first psalm, _his leaf also shall not wither_, from rabbins yet older than himself, thus: that _even the idle talk_, so he expresses it, _of a good man ought to be regarded_; the most superfluous things he saith are always of some value. and other ancient authours have the same phrase, nearly in the same sense.' [page : johnson's birth and baptism. a.d. .] of one thing i am certain, that considering how highly the small portion which we have of the table-talk and other anecdotes of our celebrated writers is valued, and how earnestly it is regretted that we have not more, i am justified in preserving rather too many of johnson's sayings, than too few; especially as from the diversity of dispositions it cannot be known with certainty beforehand, whether what may seem trifling to some and perhaps to the collector himself, may not be most agreeable to many; and the greater number that an authour can please in any degree, the more pleasure does there arise to a benevolent mind. to those who are weak enough to think this a degrading task, and the time and labour which have been devoted to it misemployed, i shall content myself with opposing the authority of the greatest man of any age, julius cÆsar, of whom bacon observes, that 'in his book of apothegms which he collected, we see that he esteemed it more honour to make himself but a pair of tables, to take the wise and pithy words of others, than to have every word of his own to be made an apothegm or an oracle[ ].' having said thus much by way of introduction, i commit the following pages to the candour of the publick. * * * * * samuel[ ] johnson was born at lichfield, in staffordshire, on the th of september, n.s., ; and his initiation into the christian church was not delayed; for his baptism is recorded, in the register of st. mary's parish in that city, to have been performed on the day of his birth. his father is there stiled _gentleman_, a circumstance of which an ignorant panegyrist has praised him for not being proud; when the truth is, that the appellation of gentleman, though now lost in the indiscriminate assumption of _esquire_[ ], was commonly taken by those who could not boast of gentility. his father was michael johnson, a native of derbyshire, of obscure extraction[ ], who settled in lichfield as a bookseller and stationer[ ]. [page : his parentage. a.d. ] his mother was sarah ford, descended of an ancient race of substantial yeomanry in warwickshire[ ]. they were well advanced in years when they married, and never had more than two children, both sons; samuel, their first born, who lived to be the illustrious character whose various excellence i am to endeavour to record, and nathanael, who died in his twenty-fifth year. [page : character of michael johnson. a.d. ] mr. michael johnson was a man of a large and robust body, and of a strong and active mind; yet, as in the most solid rocks veins of unsound substance are often discovered, there was in him a mixture of that disease, the nature of which eludes the most minute enquiry, though the effects are well known to be a weariness of life, an unconcern about those things which agitate the greater part of mankind, and a general sensation of gloomy wretchedness[ ]. from him then his son inherited, with some other qualities, 'a vile melancholy,' which in his too strong expression of any disturbance of the mind, 'made him mad all his life, at least not sober[ ].' michael was, however, forced by the narrowness of his circumstances to be very diligent in business, not only in his shop[ ], but by occasionally resorting to several towns in the neighbourhood[ ], some of which were at a considerable distance from lichfield[ ]. at that time booksellers' shops in the provincial towns of england were very rare, so that there was not one even in birmingham, in which town old mr. johnson used to open a shop every market-day. he was a pretty good latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to be made one of the magistrates of lichfield[ ]; and, being a man of good sense, and skill in his trade, he acquired a reasonable share of wealth, of which however he afterwards lost the greatest part, by engaging unsuccessfully in a manufacture of parchment[ ]. he was a zealous high-church man and royalist, and retained his attachment to the unfortunate house of stuart, though he reconciled himself, by casuistical arguments of expediency and necessity, to take the oaths imposed by the prevailing power[ ]. [page : an incident in his life. a.d. ] there is a circumstance in his life somewhat romantick, but so well authenticated, that i shall not omit it. a young woman of leek, in staffordshire, while he served his apprenticeship there, conceived a violent passion for him; and though it met with no favourable return, followed him to lichfield, where she took lodgings opposite to the house in which he lived, and indulged her hopeless flame. when he was informed that it so preyed upon her mind that her life was in danger, he with a generous humanity went to her and offered to marry her, but it was then too late: her vital power was exhausted; and she actually exhibited one of the very rare instances of dying for love. she was buried in the cathedral of lichfield; and he, with a tender regard, placed a stone over her grave with this inscription: here lies the body of mrs. elizabeth blaney, a stranger. she departed this life of september, . [page : sarah johnson. a.d. .] johnson's mother was a woman of distinguished understanding. i asked his old school-fellow, mr. hector, surgeon of birmingham, if she was not vain of her son. he said, 'she had too much good sense to be vain, but she knew her son's value.' her piety was not inferiour to her understanding; and to her must be ascribed those early impressions of religion upon the mind of her son, from which the world afterwards derived so much benefit. he told me, that he remembered distinctly having had the first notice of heaven, 'a place to which good people went,' and hell, 'a place to which bad people went,' communicated to him by her, when a little child in bed with her[ ]; and that it might be the better fixed in his memory, she sent him to repeat it to thomas jackson, their man-servant; he not being in the way, this was not done; but there was no occasion for any artificial aid for its preservation. in following so very eminent a man from his cradle to his grave, every minute particular, which can throw light on the progress of his mind, is interesting. that he was remarkable, even in his earliest years, may easily be supposed; for to use his own words in his life of sydenham, 'that the strength of his understanding, the accuracy of his discernment, and ardour of his curiosity, might have been remarked from his infancy, by a diligent observer, there is no reason to doubt. for, there is no instance of any man, whose history has been minutely related, that did not in every part of life discover the same proportion of intellectual vigour[ ].' in all such investigations it is certainly unwise to pay too much attention to incidents which the credulous relate with eager satisfaction, and the more scrupulous or witty enquirer considers only as topicks of ridicule: yet there is a traditional story of the infant hercules of toryism, so curiously characteristick, that i shall not withhold it. it was communicated to me in a letter from miss mary adye, of lichfield: [page : anecdotes of johnson's childhood.] 'when dr. sacheverel was at lichfield, johnson was not quite three years old. my grandfather hammond observed him at the cathedral perched upon his father's shoulders, listening and gaping at the much celebrated preacher. mr. hammond asked mr. johnson how he could possibly think of bringing such an infant to church, and in the midst of so great a croud. he answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home; for, young as he was, he believed he had caught the publick spirit and zeal for sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with beholding him[ ].' nor can i omit a little instance of that jealous independence of spirit, and impetuosity of temper, which never forsook him. the fact was acknowledged to me by himself, upon the authority of his mother. one day, when the servant who used to be sent to school to conduct him home, had not come in time, he set out by himself, though he was then so near-sighted, that he was obliged to stoop down on his hands and knees to take a view of the kennel before he ventured to step over it. his school-mistress, afraid that he might miss his way, or fall into the kennel, or be run over by a cart, followed him at some distance. he happened to turn about and perceive her. feeling her careful attention as an insult to his manliness, he ran back to her in a rage, and beat her, as well as his strength would permit. of the power of his memory, for which he was all his life eminent to a degree almost incredible[ ], the following early instance was told me in his presence at lichfield, in , by his step-daughter, mrs. lucy porter, as related to her by his mother. [page : johnson's infant precocity. a.d. .] when he was a child in petticoats, and had learnt to read, mrs. johnson one morning put the common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day, and said, 'sam, you must get this by heart.' she went up stairs, leaving him to study it: but by the time she had reached the second floor, she heard him following her. 'what's the matter?' said she. 'i can say it,' he replied; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it more than twice. but there has been another story of his infant precocity generally circulated, and generally believed, the truth of which i am to refute upon his own authority. it is told[ ], that, when a child of three years old, he chanced to tread upon a duckling, the eleventh of a brood, and killed it; upon which, it is said, he dictated to his mother the following epitaph: 'here lies good master duck, whom samuel johnson trod on; if it had liv'd, it had been _good luck_, for then we'd had an _odd one_.' there is surely internal evidence that this little composition combines in it, what no child of three years old could produce, without an extension of its faculties by immediate inspiration; yet mrs. lucy porter, dr. johnson's step-daughter, positively maintained to me, in his presence, that there could be no doubt of the truth of this anecdote, for she had heard it from his mother. so difficult is it to obtain an authentick relation of facts, and such authority may there be for errour; for he assured me, that his father made the verses, and wished to pass them for his child's. he added, 'my father was a foolish old man[ ]; that is to say, foolish in talking of his children[ ].' [page : his eyesight.] [page : the king's evil.] young johnson had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the scrophula, or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well formed, and hurt his visual nerves so much, that he did not see at all with one of his eyes, though its appearance was little different from that of the other. there is amongst his prayers, one inscribed '_when my_ eye _was restored to its use_[ ],' which ascertains a defect that many of his friends knew he had, though i never perceived it[ ]. i supposed him to be only near-sighted; and indeed i must observe, that in no other respect could i discern any defect in his vision; on the contrary, the force of his attention and perceptive quickness made him see and distinguish all manner of objects, whether of nature or of art, with a nicety that is rarely to be found. when he and i were travelling in the highlands of scotland, and i pointed out to him a mountain which i observed resembled a cone, he corrected my inaccuracy, by shewing me, that it was indeed pointed at the top, but that one side of it was larger than the other[ ]. and the ladies with whom he was acquainted agree, that no man was more nicely and minutely critical in the elegance of female dress[ ]. when i found that he saw the romantick beauties of islam, in derbyshire, much better than i did, i told him that he resembled an able performer upon a bad instrument[ ]. how false and contemptible then are all the remarks which have been made to the prejudice either of his candour or of his philosophy, founded upon a supposition that he was almost blind. it has been said, that he contracted this grievous malady from his nurse[ ]. his mother yielding to the superstitious notion, which, it is wonderful to think, prevailed so long in this country, as to the virtue of the regal touch; a notion, which our kings encouraged, and to which a man of such inquiry and such judgement as carte[ ] could give credit; carried him to london, where he was actually touched by queen anne. mrs. johnson indeed, as mr. hector informed me, acted by the advice of the celebrated sir john floyer[ ], then a physician in lichfield. johnson used to talk of this very frankly; and mrs. piozzi has preserved his very picturesque description of the scene, as it remained upon his fancy. being asked if he could remember queen anne, 'he had (he said) a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood[ ].' this touch, however, was without any effect. i ventured to say to him, in allusion to the political principles in which he was educated, and of which he ever retained some odour, that 'his mother had not carried him far enough; she should have taken him to rome.' [page : johnson at a dame's school.] he was first taught to read english by dame oliver[ ], a widow, who kept a school for young children in lichfield. he told me she could read the black letter, and asked him to borrow for her, from his father, a bible in that character. when he was going to oxford, she came to take leave of him, brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present of gingerbread, and said, he was the best scholar she ever had. he delighted in mentioning this early compliment: adding, with a smile, that 'this was as high a proof of his merit as he could conceive.' his next instructor in english was a master, whom, when he spoke of him to me, he familiarly called tom brown, who, said he, 'published a spelling-book, and dedicated it to the universe; but, i fear, no copy of it can now be had[ ].' [page : lichfield school.] he began to learn latin[ ] with mr. hawkins, usher, or under-master of lichfield school, 'a man (said he) very skilful in his little way.' with him he continued two years[ ], and then rose to be under the care of mr. hunter, the head-master, who, according to his account, 'was very severe, and wrong-headedly severe. he used (said he) to beat us unmercifully; and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence; for he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. he would ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it, he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of knowing how to answer it. for instance, he would call up a boy and ask him latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked. now, sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need of a master to teach him.' [page : johnson's school-fellows.] it is, however, but justice to the memory of mr. hunter to mention, that though he might err in being too severe, the school of lichfield was very respectable in his time[ ]. the late dr. taylor, prebendary of westminster, who was educated under him, told me, that 'he was an excellent master, and that his ushers were most of them men of eminence; that holbrook, one of the most ingenious men, best scholars, and best preachers of his age, was usher during the greatest part of the time that johnson was at school[ ]. then came hague, of whom as much might be said, with the addition that he was an elegant poet. hague was succeeded by green, afterwards bishop of lincoln, whose character in the learned world is well known[ ]. in the same form with johnson was congreve[ ], who afterwards became chaplain to archbishop boulter, and by that connection obtained good preferment in ireland. he was a younger son of the ancient family of congreve, in staffordshire, of which the poet was a branch. his brother sold the estate. there was also lowe, afterwards canon of windsor[ ].' [page : mr. hunter.] indeed johnson was very sensible how much he owed to mr. hunter. mr. langton one day asked him how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of latin, in which, i believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time; he said, 'my master whipt me very well. without that, sir, i should have done nothing.' he told mr. langton, that while hunter was flogging his boys unmercifully, he used to say, 'and this i do to save you from the gallows.' johnson, upon all occasions, expressed his approbation of enforcing instruction by means of the rod[ ]. 'i would rather (said he) have the rod to be the general terrour to all, to make them learn, than tell a child, if you do thus, or thus, you will be more esteemed than your brothers or sisters. the rod produces an effect which terminates in itself. a child is afraid of being whipped, and gets his task, and there's an end on't; whereas, by exciting emulation and comparisons of superiority, you lay the foundation of lasting mischief; you make brothers and sisters hate each other[ ].' when johnson saw some young ladies in lincolnshire who were remarkably well behaved, owing to their mother's strict discipline and severe correction[ ], he exclaimed, in one of shakspeare's lines a little varied, '_rod_, i will honour thee for this thy duty[ ].' [page : johnson a king of men.] that superiority over his fellows, which he maintained with so much dignity in his march through life, was not assumed from vanity and ostentation, but was the natural and constant effect of those extraordinary powers of mind, of which he could not but be conscious by comparison; the intellectual difference, which in other cases of comparison of characters, is often a matter of undecided contest, being as clear in his case as the superiority of stature in some men above others. johnson did not strut or stand on tip-toe: he only did not stoop. from his earliest years his superiority was perceived and acknowledged[ ]. he was from the beginning [greek: anax andron], a king of men. his schoolfellow, mr. hector, has obligingly furnished me with many particulars of his boyish days[ ]: and assured me that he never knew him corrected at school, but for talking and diverting other boys from their business. he seemed to learn by intuition; for though indolence and procrastination were inherent in his constitution, whenever he made an exertion he did more than any one else. in short, he is a memorable instance of what has been often observed, that the boy is the man in miniature: and that the distinguishing characteristicks of each individual are the same, through the whole course of life. his favourites used to receive very liberal assistance from him; and such was the submission and deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom mr. hector was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his humble attendants, and carry him to school. one in the middle stooped, while he sat upon his back, and one on each side supported him; and thus he was borne triumphant. such a proof of the early predominance of intellectual vigour is very remarkable, and does honour to human nature. talking to me once himself of his being much distinguished at school, he told me, 'they never thought to raise me by comparing me to any one; they never said, johnson is as good a scholar as such a one; but such a one is as good a scholar as johnson; and this was said but of one, but of lowe; and i do not think he was as good a scholar.' [page : johnson's tenacious memory.] he discovered a great ambition to excel, which roused him to counteract his indolence. he was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never forgot any thing that he either heard or read. mr. hector remembers having recited to him eighteen verses, which, after a little pause, he repeated _verbatim_, varying only one epithet, by which he improved the line. he never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions: his only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him; no very easy operation, as his size was remarkably large. his defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports; and he once pleasantly remarked to me, 'how wonderfully well he had contrived to be idle without them.' lord chesterfield, however, has justly observed in one of his letters, when earnestly cautioning a friend against the pernicious effects of idleness, that active sports are not to be reckoned idleness in young people; and that the listless torpor of doing nothing, alone deserves that name[ ]. of this dismal inertness of disposition, johnson had all his life too great a share. mr. hector relates, that 'he could not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged in talking to himself than to his companion.' [page : his fondness for romances.] dr. percy[ ], the bishop of dromore, who was long intimately acquainted with him, and has preserved a few anecdotes concerning him, regretting that he was not a more diligent collector, informs me, that 'when a boy he was immoderately fond of reading romances of chivalry, and he retained his fondness for them through life; so that (adds his lordship) spending part of a summer[ ] at my parsonage-house in the country, he chose for his regular reading the old spanish romance of _felixmarte of hircania_, in folio, which he read quite through[ ]. yet i have heard him attribute to these extravagant fictions that unsettled turn of mind which prevented his ever fixing in any profession.' [page : stourbridge school.] : Ætat. .--after having resided for some time at the house of his uncle, cornelius ford[ ], johnson was, at the age of fifteen, removed to the school of stourbridge, in worcestershire, of which mr. wentworth was then master. this step was taken by the advice of his cousin, the reverend mr. ford, a man in whom both talents and good dispositions were disgraced by licentiousness[ ], but who was a very able judge of what was right. at this school he did not receive so much benefit as was expected. it has been said, that he acted in the capacity of an assistant to mr. wentworth, in teaching the younger boys. 'mr. wentworth (he told me) was a very able man, but an idle man, and to me very severe; but i cannot blame him much. i was then a big boy; he saw i did not reverence him; and that he should get no honour by me. i had brought enough with me, to carry me through; and all i should get at his school would be ascribed to my own labour, or to my former master. yet he taught me a great deal.' he thus discriminated, to dr. percy, bishop of dromore, his progress at his two grammar-schools. 'at one, i learnt much in the school, but little from the master; in the other, i learnt much from the master, but little in the school.' the bishop also informs me, that 'dr. johnson's father, before he was received at stourbridge, applied to have him admitted as a scholar and assistant to the reverend samuel lea, m.a., head master of newport school, in shropshire (a very diligent, good teacher, at that time in high reputation, under whom mr. hollis[ ] is said, in the memoirs of his life, to have been also educated[ ]). this application to mr. lea was not successful; but johnson had afterwards the gratification to hear that the old gentleman, who lived to a very advanced age, mentioned it as one of the most memorable events of his life, that 'he was very near having that great man for his scholar.' he remained at stourbridge little more than a year, and then returned home, where he may be said to have loitered, for two years, in a state very unworthy his uncommon abilities. he had already given several proofs of his poetical genius, both in his school-exercises and in other occasional compositions. of these i have obtained a considerable collection, by the favour of mr. wentworth, son of one of his masters, and of mr. hector, his school-fellow and friend; from which i select the following specimens: [page : johnson's youthful compositions.] _translation of_ virgil. pastoral i. meliboeus. now, tityrus, you, supine and careless laid, play on your pipe beneath this beechen shade; while wretched we about the world must roam, and leave our pleasing fields and native home, here at your ease you sing your amorous flame, and the wood rings with amarillis' name. tityrus. those blessings, friend, a deity bestow'd, for i shall never think him less than god; oft on his altar shall my firstlings lie, their blood the consecrated stones shall dye: he gave my flocks to graze the flowery meads, and me to tune at ease th' unequal reeds. meliboeus. my admiration only i exprest, (no spark of envy harbours in my breast) that, when confusion o'er the country reigns, to you alone this happy state remains. here i, though faint myself, must drive my goats, far from their ancient fields and humble cots. this scarce i lead, who left on yonder rock two tender kids, the hopes of all the flock. had we not been perverse and careless grown, this dire event by omens was foreshown; our trees were blasted by the thunder stroke, ) and left-hand crows, from an old hollow oak, ) foretold the coming evil by their dismal croak. ) _translation of_ horace. book i. ode xxii. the man, my friend, whose conscious heart with virtue's sacred ardour glows, nor taints with death the envenom'd dart, nor needs the guard of moorish bows: though scythia's icy cliffs he treads, or horrid africk's faithless sands; or where the fam'd hydaspes spreads his liquid wealth o'er barbarous lands. for while by chloe's image charm'd, too far in sabine woods i stray'd; me singing, careless and unarm'd, a grizly wolf surprised, and fled. no savage more portentous stain'd apulia's spacious wilds with gore; no fiercer juba's thirsty land, dire nurse of raging lions, bore. place me where no soft summer gale among the quivering branches sighs; where clouds condens'd for ever veil with horrid gloom the frowning skies: place me beneath the burning line, a clime deny'd to human race; i'll sing of chloe's charms divine, her heav'nly voice, and beauteous face. _translation of_ horace. book ii. ode ix. clouds do not always veil the skies, nor showers immerse the verdant plain; nor do the billows always rise, or storms afflict the ruffled main. nor, valgius, on th' armenian shores do the chain'd waters always freeze; not always furious boreas roars, or bends with violent force the trees. but you are ever drown'd in tears, for mystes dead you ever mourn; no setting sol can ease your care, but finds you sad at his return. the wise experienc'd grecian sage mourn'd not antilochus so long; nor did king priam's hoary age so much lament his slaughter'd son. leave off, at length, these woman's sighs, augustus' numerous trophies sing; repeat that prince's victories, to whom all nations tribute bring. niphates rolls an humbler wave, at length the undaunted scythian yields, content to live the roman's slave, and scarce forsakes his native fields. _translation of part of the dialogue between_ hector _and_ andromache; _from the sixth book of_ homer's iliad. she ceas'd: then godlike hector answer'd kind, (his various plumage sporting in the wind) that post, and all the rest, shall be my care; but shall i, then, forsake the unfinished war? how would the trojans brand great hector's name! and one base action sully all my fame, acquired by wounds and battles bravely fought! oh! how my soul abhors so mean a thought. long since i learn'd to slight this fleeting breath, and view with cheerful eyes approaching death the inexorable sisters have decreed that priam's house, and priam's self shall bleed: the day will come, in which proud troy shall yield, and spread its smoking ruins o'er the field. yet hecuba's, nor priam's hoary age, whose blood shall quench some grecian's thirsty rage, nor my brave brothers, that have bit the ground, their souls dismiss'd through many a ghastly wound, can in my bosom half that grief create, as the sad thought of your impending fate: when some proud grecian dame shall tasks impose, mimick your tears, and ridicule your woes; beneath hyperia's waters shall you sweat, and, fainting, scarce support the liquid weight: then shall some argive loud insulting cry, behold the wife of hector, guard of troy! tears, at my name, shall drown those beauteous eyes, and that fair bosom heave with rising sighs! before that day, by some brave hero's hand may i lie slain, and spurn the bloody sand. _to a_ young lady _on her_ birth-day[ ]. this tributary verse receive my fair, warm with an ardent lover's fondest pray'r. may this returning day for ever find thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind; all pains, all cares, may favouring heav'n remove, all but the sweet solicitudes of love! may powerful nature join with grateful art, to point each glance, and force it to the heart! o then, when conquered crouds confess thy sway, when ev'n proud wealth and prouder wit obey, my fair, be mindful of the mighty trust, alas! 'tis hard for beauty to be just. those sovereign charms with strictest care employ; nor give the generous pain, the worthless joy: with his own form acquaint the forward fool, shewn in the faithful glass of ridicule; teach mimick censure her own faults to find, ) no more let coquettes to themselves be blind, ) so shall belinda's charms improve mankind. ) the young authour[ ]. when first the peasant, long inclin'd to roam, forsakes his rural sports and peaceful home, pleas'd with the scene the smiling ocean yields, he scorns the verdant meads and flow'ry fields: then dances jocund o'er the watery way, while the breeze whispers, and the streamers play: unbounded prospects in his bosom roll, and future millions lift his rising soul; in blissful dreams he digs the golden mine, and raptur'd sees the new-found ruby shine. joys insincere! thick clouds invade the skies, loud roar the billows, high the waves arise; sick'ning with fear, he longs to view the shore, and vows to trust the faithless deep no more. so the young authour, panting after fame, and the long honours of a lasting name, entrusts his happiness to human kind, more false, more cruel, than the seas or wind. 'toil on, dull croud, in extacies he cries, for wealth or title, perishable prize; while i those transitory blessings scorn, secure of praise from ages yet unborn.' this thought once form'd, all council comes too late, he flies to press, and hurries on his fate; swiftly he sees the imagin'd laurels spread, and feels the unfading wreath surround his head. warn'd by another's fate, vain youth be wise, those dreams were settle's[ ] once, and ogilby's[ ]: the pamphlet spreads, incessant hisses rise, to some retreat the baffled writer flies; where no sour criticks snarl, no sneers molest, safe from the tart lampoon, and stinging jest; there begs of heaven a less distinguish'd lot, glad to be hid, and proud to be forgot. epilogue, _intended to have been spoken by a_ lady _who was to personate the ghost of_ hermione[ ]. ye blooming train, who give despair or joy, bless with a smile, or with a frown destroy; in whose fair cheeks destructive cupids wait, and with unerring shafts distribute fate; whose snowy breasts, whose animated eyes, each youth admires, though each admirer dies; whilst you deride their pangs in barb'rous play, } unpitying see them weep, and hear them pray, } and unrelenting sport ten thousand lives away; } for you, ye fair, i quit the gloomy plains; where sable night in all her horrour reigns; no fragrant bowers, no delightful glades, receive the unhappy ghosts of scornful maids. for kind, for tender nymphs the myrtle blooms, and weaves her bending boughs in pleasing glooms: perennial roses deck each purple vale, and scents ambrosial breathe in every gale: far hence are banish'd vapours, spleen, and tears, tea, scandal, ivory teeth, and languid airs: no pug, nor favourite cupid there enjoys the balmy kiss, for which poor thyrsis dies; form'd to delight, they use no foreign arms, nor torturing whalebones pinch them into charms; no conscious blushes there their cheeks inflame, for those who feel no guilt can know no shame; unfaded still their former charms they shew, around them pleasures wait, and joys for ever new. but cruel virgins meet severer fates; expell'd and exil'd from the blissful seats, to dismal realms, and regions void of peace, where furies ever howl, and serpents hiss. o'er the sad plains perpetual tempests sigh, and pois'nous vapours, black'ning all the sky, with livid hue the fairest face o'ercast, and every beauty withers at the blast: where e'er they fly their lover's ghosts pursue, inflicting all those ills which once they knew; vexation, fury, jealousy, despair, vex ev'ry eye, and every bosom tear; their foul deformities by all descry'd, no maid to flatter, and no paint to hide. then melt, ye fair, while crouds around you sigh, nor let disdain sit lowring in your eye; with pity soften every awful grace, and beauty smile auspicious in each face; to ease their pains exert your milder power, so shall you guiltless reign, and all mankind adore.' [page : his wide reading. Ætat. .] the two years which he spent at home, after his return from stourbridge, he passed in what he thought idleness[ ], and was scolded by his father for his want of steady application[ ]. he had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely lived from day to day. yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed him through them. he used to mention one curious instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. having imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. there were no apples; but the large folio proved to be petrarch, whom he had seen mentioned in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. his curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avidity, and read a great part of the book. what he read during these two years he told me, was not works of mere amusement, 'not voyages and travels, but all literature, sir, all ancient writers, all manly: though but little greek, only some of anacreon and hesiod; but in this irregular manner (added he) i had looked into a great many books, which were not commonly known at the universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their hands by their tutors; so that when i came to oxford, dr. adams, now master of pembroke college, told me i was the best qualified for the university that he had ever known come there[ ].' in estimating the progress of his mind during these two years, as well as in future periods of his life, we must not regard his own hasty confession of idleness; for we see, when he explains himself, that he was acquiring various stores; and, indeed he himself concluded the account with saying, 'i would not have you think i was doing nothing then.' he might, perhaps, have studied more assiduously; but it may be doubted whether such a mind as his was not more enriched by roaming at large in the fields of literature than if it had been confined to any single spot. the analogy between body and mind is very general, and the parallel will hold as to their food, as well as any other particular. the flesh of animals who feed excursively, is allowed to have a higher flavour than that of those who are cooped up. may there not be the same difference between men who read as their taste prompts and men who are confined in cells and colleges to stated tasks? [page : johnson enters oxford. a.d. .] that a man in mr. michael johnson's circumstances should think of sending his son to the expensive university of oxford, at his own charge, seems very improbable. the subject was too delicate to question johnson upon. but i have been assured by dr. taylor that the scheme never would have taken place had not a gentleman of shropshire, one of his schoolfellows, spontaneously undertaken to support him at oxford, in the character of his companion; though, in fact, he never received any assistance whatever from that gentleman[ ]. he, however, went to oxford, and was entered a commoner of pembroke college on the st of october, [ ], being then in his nineteenth year[ ]. [page : his first tutor. Ætat. .] the reverend dr. adams, who afterwards presided over pembroke college with universal esteem, told me he was present, and gave me some account of what passed on the night of johnson's arrival at oxford[ ]. on that evening, his father, who had anxiously accompanied him, found means to have him introduced to mr. jorden, who was to be his tutor. his being put under any tutor reminds us of what wood says of robert burton, authour of the 'anatomy of melancholy,' when elected student of christ church: 'for form's sake, _though he wanted not a tutor_, he was put under the tuition of dr. john bancroft, afterwards bishop of oxon[ ].' his father seemed very full of the merits of his son, and told the company he was a good scholar, and a poet, and wrote latin verses. his figure and manner appeared strange to them; but he behaved modestly, and sat silent, till upon something which occurred in the course of conversation, he suddenly struck in and quoted macrobius; and thus he gave the first impression of that more extensive reading in which he had indulged himself. his tutor, mr. jorden, fellow of pembroke, was not, it seems, a man of such abilities as we should conceive requisite for the instructor of samuel johnson, who gave me the following account of him. 'he was a very worthy man, but a heavy man, and i did not profit much by his instructions. indeed, i did not attend him much[ ]. the first day after i came to college i waited upon him, and then staid away four. on the sixth, mr. jorden asked me why i had not attended. i answered i had been sliding in christ-church meadow[ ]. and this i said with as much nonchalance as i am now[ ] talking to you. i had no notion that i was wrong or irreverent to my tutor[ ]. boswell: 'that, sir, was great fortitude of mind.' johnson: 'no, sir; stark insensibility[ ].' [page : the fifth of november. a.d. .] the fifth of november[ ] was at that time kept with great solemnity at pembroke college, and exercises upon the subject of the day were required[ ]. johnson neglected to perform his, which is much to be regretted; for his vivacity of imagination, and force of language, would probably have produced something sublime upon the gunpowder plot[ ]. to apologise for his neglect, he gave in a short copy of verses, entitled somnium, containing a common thought; 'that the muse had come to him in his sleep, and whispered, that it did not become him to write on such subjects as politicks; he should confine himself to humbler themes:' but the versification was truly virgilian[ ]. [page : johnson's version of pope's messiah. Ætat. .] he had a love and respect for jorden, not for his literature, but for his worth. 'whenever (said he) a young man becomes jorden's pupil, he becomes his son.' having given such a specimen of his poetical powers, he was asked by mr. jorden, to translate pope's messiah into latin verse, as a christmas exercise. he performed it with uncommon rapidity, and in so masterly a manner, that he obtained great applause from it, which ever after kept him high in the estimation of his college, and, indeed, of all the university[ ]. it is said, that mr. pope expressed himself concerning it in terms of strong approbation[ ]. dr. taylor told me, that it was first printed for old mr. johnson, without the knowledge of his son, who was very angry when he heard of it. a miscellany of poems collected by a person of the name of husbands, was published at oxford in [ ]. in that miscellany johnson's translation of the messiah appeared, with this modest motto from scaliger's poeticks. _ex alieno ingenio poeta, ex suo tantum versificator_. [page : mr. courtenays eulogy. a.d. .] i am not ignorant that critical objections have been made to this and other specimens of johnson's latin poetry[ ]. i acknowledge myself not competent to decide on a question of such extreme nicety. but i am satisfied with the just and discriminative eulogy pronounced upon it by my friend mr, courtenay. 'and with like ease his vivid lines assume the garb and dignity of ancient rome.-- let college _verse-men_ trite conceits express, trick'd out in splendid shreds of virgil's dress; from playful ovid cull the tinsel phrase, and vapid notions hitch in pilfer'd lays: then with mosaick art the piece combine, and boast the glitter of each dulcet line: johnson adventur'd boldly to transfuse his vigorous sense into the latian muse; aspir'd to shine by unreflected light, and with a roman's ardour _think_ and write. he felt the tuneful nine his breast inspire, and, like a master, wak'd the soothing lyre: horatian strains a grateful heart proclaim, while sky's wild rocks resound his thralia's name[ ]. hesperia's plant, in some less skilful hands, to bloom a while, factitious heat demands: though glowing maro a faint warmth supplies, the sickly blossom in the hot-house dies: by johnson's genial culture, art, and toil, its root strikes deep, and owns the fost'ring soil; imbibes our sun through all its swelling veins, and grows a native of britannia's plains[ ].' [page : johnson's 'morbid melancholy'. Ætat .] the 'morbid melancholy,' which was lurking in his constitution, and to which we may ascribe those particularities, and that aversion to regular life, which, at a very early period, marked his character, gathered such strength in his twentieth year, as to afflict him in a dreadful manner. while he was at lichfield, in the college vacation of the year [ ], he felt himself overwhelmed with an horrible hypochondria, with perpetual irritation, fretfulness, and impatience; and with a dejection, gloom, and despair, which made existence misery[ ]. from this dismal malady he never afterwards was perfectly relieved; and all his labours, and all his enjoyments, were but temporary interruptions of its baleful influence[ ]. how wonderful, how unsearchable are the ways of god! johnson, who was blest with all the powers of genius and understanding in a degree far above the ordinary state of human nature, was at the same time visited with a disorder so afflictive, that they who know it by dire experience, will not envy his exalted endowments. that it was, in some degree, occasioned by a defect in his nervous system, that inexplicable part of our frame, appears highly probable. he told mr. paradise[ ] that he was sometimes so languid and inefficient, that he could not distinguish the hour upon the town-clock. [page : johnson consults dr. swinfen. a.d. .] johnson, upon the first violent attack of this disorder, strove to overcome it by forcible exertions[ ]. he frequently walked to birmingham and back again[ ], and tried many other expedients, but all in vain. his expression concerning it to me was 'i did not then know how to manage it.' his distress became so intolerable, that he applied to dr. swinfen, physician in lichfield, his god-father, and put into his hands a state of his case, written in latin. dr. swinfen was so much struck with the extraordinary acuteness, research, and eloquence of this paper, that in his zeal for his godson he shewed it to several people. his daughter, mrs. desmoulins, who was many years humanely supported in dr. johnson's house in london, told me, that upon his discovering that dr. swinfen had communicated his case, he was so much offended, that he was never afterwards fully reconciled to him. he indeed had good reason to be offended; for though dr. swinfen's motive was good, he inconsiderately betrayed a matter deeply interesting and of great delicacy, which had been entrusted to him in confidence; and exposed a complaint of his young friend and patient, which, in the superficial opinion of the generality of mankind, is attended with contempt and disgrace[ ]. [page : johnson an hypochondriack. Ætat. .] but let not little men triumph upon knowing that johnson was an hypochondriack, was subject to what the learned, philosophical, and pious dr. cheyne has so well treated under the title of 'the english malady[ ].' though he suffered severely from it, he was not therefore degraded. the powers of his great mind might be troubled, and their full exercise suspended at times; but the mind itself was ever entire. as a proof of this, it is only necessary to consider, that, when he was at the very worst, he composed that state of his own case, which shewed an uncommon vigour, not only of fancy and taste, but of judgement. i am aware that he himself was too ready to call such a complaint by the name of _madness_[ ]; in conformity with which notion, he has traced its gradations, with exquisite nicety, in one of the chapters of his rasselas[ ]. but there is surely a clear distinction between a disorder which affects only the imagination and spirits, while the judgement is sound, and a disorder by which the judgement itself is impaired. this distinction was made to me by the late professor gaubius of leyden, physician to the prince of orange, in a conversation which i had with him several years ago, and he expanded it thus: 'if (said he) a man tells me that he is grievously disturbed, for that he _imagines_ he sees a ruffian coming against him with a drawn sword, though at the same time he is _conscious_ it is a delusion, i pronounce him to have a disordered imagination; but if a man tells me that he sees this, and in consternation calls to me to look at it, i pronounce him to be _mad_.' [page : johnson's dread of insanity. a.d. .] it is a common effect of low spirits or melancholy, to make those who are afflicted with it imagine that they are actually suffering those evils which happen to be most strongly presented to their minds. some have fancied themselves to be deprived of the use of their limbs, some to labour under acute diseases, others to be in extreme poverty; when, in truth, there was not the least reality in any of the suppositions; so that when the vapours were dispelled, they were convinced of the delusion. to johnson, whose supreme enjoyment was the exercise of his reason, the disturbance or obscuration of that faculty was the evil most to be dreaded. insanity, therefore, was the object of his most dismal apprehension[ ]; and he fancied himself seized by it, or approaching to it, at the very time when he was giving proofs of a more than ordinary soundness and vigour of judgement. that his own diseased imagination should have so far deceived him, is strange; but it is stranger still that some of his friends should have given credit to his groundless opinion, when they had such undoubted proofs that it was totally fallacious; though it is by no means surprising that those who wish to depreciate him, should, since his death, have laid hold of this circumstance, and insisted upon it with very unfair aggravation[ ]. amidst the oppression and distraction of a disease which very few have felt in its full extent, but many have experienced in a slighter degree, johnson, in his writings, and in his conversation, never failed to display all the varieties of intellectual excellence. in his march through this world to a better, his mind still appeared grand and brilliant, and impressed all around him with the truth of virgil's noble sentiment-- '_igneus est ollis vigor et coelestis origo_.'[ ] [page : his reluctance to go to church. Ætat .] the history of his mind as to religion is an important article. i have mentioned the early impressions made upon his tender imagination by his mother, who continued her pious care with assiduity, but, in his opinion, not with judgement. 'sunday (said he) was a heavy day to me when i was a boy. my mother confined me on that day, and made me read "the whole duty of man," from a great part of which i could derive no instruction. when, for instance, i had read the chapter on theft, which from my infancy i had been taught was wrong, i was no more convinced that theft was wrong than before; so there was no accession of knowledge. a boy should be introduced to such books, by having his attention directed to the arrangement, to the style, and other excellencies of composition; that the mind being thus engaged by an amusing variety of objects, may not grow weary.' [page : law's serious call. a.d. .] [page : johnson grounded in religion. Ætat .] he communicated to me the following particulars upon the subject of his religious progress. 'i fell into an inattention to religion, or an indifference about it, in my ninth year. the church at lichfield, in which we had a seat, wanted reparation[ ], so i was to go and find a seat in other churches; and having bad eyes, and being awkward about this, i used to go and read in the fields on sunday. this habit continued till my fourteenth year; and still i find a great reluctance to go to church[ ]. i then became a sort of lax _talker_ against religion, for i did not much _think_ against it; and this lasted till i went to oxford, where it would not be _suffered_[ ]. when at oxford, i took up 'law's _serious call to a holy life_,'[ ] 'expecting to find it a dull book (as such books generally are), and perhaps to laugh at it. but i found law quite an overmatch for me; and this was the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of religion, after i became capable of rational inquiry[ ].' from this time forward religion was the predominant object of his thoughts[ ]; though, with the just sentiments of a conscientious christian, he lamented that his practice of its duties fell far short of what it ought to be. this instance of a mind such as that of johnson being first disposed, by an unexpected incident, to think with anxiety of the momentous concerns of eternity, and of 'what he should do to be saved[ ],' may for ever be produced in opposition to the superficial and sometimes profane contempt that has been thrown upon, those occasional impressions which it is certain many christians have experienced; though it must be acknowledged that weak minds, from an erroneous supposition that no man is in a state of grace who has not felt a particular conversion, have, in some cases, brought a degree of ridicule upon them; a ridicule of which it is inconsiderate or unfair to make a general application. [page : johnson's studies at oxford. a.d. .] how seriously johnson was impressed with a sense of religion, even in the vigour of his youth, appears from the following passage in his minutes kept by way of diary: sept. [ ], . i have this day entered upon my twenty-eighth year. 'mayest thou, o god, enable me, for jesus christ's sake, to spend this in such a manner that i may receive comfort from it at the hour of death, and in the day of judgement! amen.' [page : his rapid reading and composition. Ætat .] the particular course of his reading while at oxford, and during the time of vacation which he passed at home, cannot be traced. enough has been said of his irregular mode of study. he told me that from his earliest years he loved to read poetry, but hardly ever read any poem to an end; that he read shakspeare at a period so early, that the speech of the ghost in hamlet terrified him when he was alone[ ]; that horace's odes were the compositions in which he took most delight, and it was long before he liked his epistles and satires. he told me what he read _solidly_ at oxford was greek; not the grecian historians, but homer[ ] and euripides, and now and then a little epigram; that the study of which he was the most fond was metaphysicks, but he had not read much, even in that way. i always thought that he did himself injustice in his account of what he had read, and that he must have been speaking with reference to the vast portion of study which is possible, and to which a few scholars in the whole history of literature have attained; for when i once asked him whether a person, whose name i have now forgotten, studied hard, he answered 'no, sir; i do not believe he studied hard. i never knew a man who studied hard. i conclude, indeed, from the effects, that some men have studied hard, as bentley and clarke.' trying him by that criterion upon which he formed his judgement of others, we may be absolutely certain, both from his writings and his conversation, that his reading was very extensive. dr. adam smith, than whom few were better judges on this subject, once observed to me that 'johnson knew more books than any man alive.' he had a peculiar facility in seizing at once what was valuable in any book, without submitting to the labour of perusing it from beginning to end[ ]. he had, from the irritability of his constitution, at all times, an impatience and hurry when he either read or wrote. a certain apprehension, arising from novelty, made him write his first exercise at college twice over[ ]; but he never took that trouble with any other composition; and we shall see that his most excellent works were struck off at a heat, with rapid exertion[ ]. [page : johnson's rooms in college. a.d. .] yet he appears, from his early notes or memorandums in my possession, to have at various times attempted, or at least planned, a methodical course of study, according to computation, of which he was all his life fond, as it fixed his attention steadily upon something without, and prevented his mind from preying upon itself[ ]. thus i find in his hand-writing the number of lines in each of two of euripides' tragedies, of the georgicks of virgil, of the first six books of the Æneid, of horace's art of poetry, of three of the books of ovid's metamorphosis, of some parts of theocritus, and of the tenth satire of juvenal; and a table, shewing at the rate of various numbers a day (i suppose verses to be read), what would be, in each case, the total amount in a week, month, and year[ ]. no man had a more ardent love of literature, or a higher respect for it than johnson. his apartment in pembroke college was that upon the second floor, over the gateway. the enthusiasts of learning will ever contemplate it with veneration. one day, while he was sitting in it quite alone, dr. panting[ ], then master of the college, whom he called 'a fine jacobite fellow,' overheard[ ] him uttering this soliloquy in his strong, emphatick voice: 'well, i have a mind to see what is done in other places of learning. i'll go and visit the universities abroad. i'll go to france and italy. i'll go to padua[ ].--and i'll mind my business. for an _athenian_ blockhead is the worst of all blockheads[ ].' [page : johnson a frolicksome fellow. Ætat .] dr. adams told me that johnson, while he was at pembroke college, 'was caressed and loved by all about him, was a gay and frolicksome[ ] fellow, and passed there the happiest part of his life.' but this is a striking proof of the fallacy of appearances, and how little any of us know of the real internal state even of those whom we see most frequently; for the truth is, that he was then depressed by poverty, and irritated by disease. when i mentioned to him this account as given me by dr. adams, he said, 'ah, sir, i was mad and violent. it was bitterness which they mistook for frolick[ ]. i was miserably poor, and i thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so i disregarded all power and all authority[ ].' [page : dr. adams. a.d. .] the bishop of dromore observes in a letter to me, 'the pleasure he took in vexing the tutors and fellows has been often mentioned. but i have heard him say, what ought to be recorded to the honour of the present venerable master of that college, the reverend william adams, d.d., who was then very young, and one of the junior fellows; that the mild but judicious expostulations of this worthy man, whose virtue awed him, and whose learning he revered, made him really ashamed of himself, "though i fear (said he) i was too proud to own it." 'i have heard from some of his cotemporaries that he was generally seen lounging at the college gate, with a circle of young students round him, whom he was entertaining with wit, and keeping from their studies, if not spiriting them up to rebellion against the college discipline, which in his maturer years he so much extolled.' he very early began to attempt keeping notes or memorandums, by way of a diary of his life. i find, in a parcel of loose leaves, the following spirited resolution to contend against his natural indolence: '_oct. . desidiæ valedixi; syrenis istius cantibus surdam posthac aurem obversurus_.--i bid farewell to sloth, being resolved henceforth not to listen to her syren strains.' i have also in my possession a few leaves of another _libellus_, or little book, entitled annales, in which some of the early particulars of his history are registered in latin. [page : a nest of singing-birds. Ætat .] i do not find that he formed any close intimacies with his fellow-collegians. but dr. adams told me that he contracted a love and regard for pembroke college, which he retained to the last. a short time before his death he sent to that college a present of all his works, to be deposited in their library[ ]; and he had thoughts of leaving to it his house at lichfield; but his friends who were about him very properly dissuaded him from it, and he bequeathed it to some poor relations[ ]. he took a pleasure in boasting of the many eminent men who had been educated at pembroke. in this list are found the names of mr. hawkins the poetry professor[ ], mr. shenstone, sir william blackstone, and others[ ]; not forgetting the celebrated popular preacher, mr. george whitefield, of whom, though dr. johnson did not think very highly[ ], it must be acknowledged that his eloquence was powerful, his views pious and charitable, his assiduity almost incredible; and, that since his death, the integrity of his character has been fully vindicated. being himself a poet, johnson was peculiarly happy in mentioning how many of the sons of pembroke were poets; adding, with a smile of sportive triumph, 'sir, we are a nest of singing birds[ ].' [page : dr. taylor at christ church. a.d. .] [page : johnson's worn-out shoes. Ætat .] he was not, however, blind to what he thought the defects of his own college; and i have, from the information of dr. taylor, a very strong instance of that rigid honesty which he ever inflexibly preserved. taylor had obtained his father's consent to be entered of pembroke, that he might be with his schoolfellow johnson, with whom, though some years older than himself, he was very intimate. this would have been a great comfort to johnson. but he fairly told taylor that he could not, in conscience, suffer him to enter where he knew he could not have an able tutor. he then made inquiry all round the university, and having found that mr. bateman, of christ church, was the tutor of highest reputation, taylor was entered of that college[ ]. mr. bateman's lectures were so excellent, that johnson used to come and get them at second-hand from taylor, till his poverty being so extreme that his shoes were worn out, and his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliating circumstance was perceived by the christ church men, and he came no more[ ]. he was too proud to accept of money, and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation[ ]. how must we feel when we read such an anecdote of samuel johnson! his spirited refusal of an eleemosynary supply of shoes, arose, no doubt, from a proper pride. but, considering his ascetick disposition at times, as acknowledged by himself in his 'meditations,' and the exaggeration with which some have treated the peculiarities of his character, i should not wonder to hear it ascribed to a principle of superstitious mortification; as we are told by tursellinus, in his life of st. ignatius loyola, that this intrepid founder of the order of jesuits, when he arrived at goa, after having made a severe pilgrimage through the eastern deserts persisted in wearing his miserable shattered shoes, and when new ones were offered him rejected them as an unsuitable indulgence. [page : johnson leaves oxford. a.d. .] the _res angusta domi_[ ] prevented him from having the advantage of a complete academical education[ ]. the friend to whom he had trusted for support had deceived him. his debts in college, though not great, were increasing[ ]; and his scanty remittances from lichfield, which had all along been made with great difficulty, could be supplied no longer, his father having fallen into a state of insolvency. compelled, therefore, by irresistible necessity, he left the college in autumn, , without a degree, having been a member of it little more than three years[ ]. [page : his destitute state. Ætat .] dr. adams, the worthy and respectable master of pembroke college, has generally had the reputation of being johnson's tutor. the fact, however, is, that in mr. jorden quitted the college, and his pupils were transferred to dr. adams; so that had johnson returned, dr. adams _would have been his tutor_. it is to be wished, that this connection had taken place. his equal temper, mild disposition, and politeness of manners, might have insensibly softened the harshness of johnson, and infused into him those more delicate charities, those _petites morales_, in which, it must be confessed, our great moralist was more deficient than his best friends could fully justify. dr. adams paid johnson this high compliment. he said to me at oxford, in , 'i was his nominal tutor[ ]; but he was above my mark.' when i repeated it to johnson, his eyes flashed with grateful satisfaction, and he exclaimed, 'that was liberal and noble.' [page : michael johnson's death. a.d. .] and now (i had almost said _poor_) samuel johnson returned to his native city, destitute, and not knowing how he should gain even a decent livelihood. his father's misfortunes in trade rendered him unable to support his son[ ]; and for some time there appeared no means by which he could maintain himself. in the december of this year his father died. the state of poverty in which he died, appears from a note in one of johnson's little diaries of the following year, which strongly displays his spirit and virtuous dignity of mind. ' , _julii_ . _undecim aureos deposui, quo die quicquid ante matris funus (quod serum sit precor) de paternis bonis sperari licet, viginti scilicet libras, accepi. usque adeo mihi fortuna fingenda est. interea, ne paupertate vires animi languescant, nee in flagilia egestas abigat, cavendum_.--i layed by eleven guineas on this day, when i received twenty pounds, being all that i have reason to hope for out of my father's effects, previous to the death of my mother; an event which i pray god may be very remote. i now therefore see that i must make my own fortune. meanwhile, let me take care that the powers of my mind may not be debilitated by poverty, and that indigence do not force me into any criminal act.' johnson was so far fortunate, that the respectable character of his parents, and his own merit, had, from his earliest years, secured him a kind reception in the best families at lichfield. among these i can mention mr. howard[ ], dr. swinfen, mr. simpson, mr. levett[ ], captain garrick, father of the great ornament of the british stage; but above all, mr. gilbert walmsley[ ], register of the prerogative court of lichfield, whose character, long after his decease, dr. johnson has, in his life of edmund smith[ ], thus drawn in the glowing colours of gratitude: [page : gilbert walmsley. Ætat .] 'of gilbert walmsley[ ], thus presented to my mind, let me indulge myself in the remembrance. i knew him very early; he was one of the first friends that literature procured me, and i hope that, at least, my gratitude made me worthy of his notice. 'he was of an advanced age, and i was only not a boy, yet he never received my notions with contempt. he was a whig, with all the virulence and malevolence of his party; yet difference of opinion did not keep us apart. i honoured him and he endured me. 'he had mingled with the gay world without exemption from its vices or its follies; but had never neglected the cultivation of his mind. his belief of revelation was unshaken; his learning preserved his principles; he grew first regular, and then pious. 'his studies had been so various, that i am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. his acquaintance with books was great, and what he did not immediately know, he could, at least, tell where to find. such was his amplitude of learning, and such his copiousness of communication, that it may be doubted whether a day now passes, in which i have not some advantage from his friendship. 'at this man's table i enjoyed many cheerful and instructive hours, with companions, such as are not often found--with one who has lengthened, and one who has gladdened life; with dr. james[ ], whose skill in physick will be long remembered; and with david garrick, whom i hoped to have gratified with this character of our common friend. but what are the hopes of man! i am disappointed by that stroke of death, which has eclipsed the gaiety of nations, and impoverished the publick stock of harmless pleasure[ ].' [page : lichfield society. a.d. .] in these families he passed much time in his early years. in most of them, he was in the company of ladies, particularly at mr. walmsley's, whose wife and sisters-in-law, of the name of aston, and daughters of a baronet, were remarkable for good breeding; so that the notion which has been industriously circulated and believed, that he never was in good company till late in life, and, consequently had been confirmed in coarse and ferocious manners by long habits, is wholly without foundation. some of the ladies have assured me, they recollected him well when a young man, as distinguished for his complaisance. and that this politeness was not merely occasional and temporary, or confined to the circles of lichfield, is ascertained by the testimony of a lady, who, in a paper with which i have been favoured by a daughter of his intimate friend and physician, dr. lawrence, thus describes dr. johnson some years afterwards: 'as the particulars of the former part of dr. johnson's life do not seem to be very accurately known, a lady hopes that the following information may not be unacceptable. [page : molly aston. Ætat .] 'she remembers dr. johnson on a visit to dr. taylor, at ashbourn, some time between the end of the year , and the middle of the year ; she rather thinks it to have been after he and his wife were removed to london[ ]. during his stay at ashbourn, he made frequent visits to mr. meynell[ ], at bradley, where his company was much desired by the ladies of the family, who were, perhaps, in point of elegance and accomplishments, inferiour to few of those with whom he was afterwards acquainted. mr. meynell's eldest daughter was afterwards married to mr. fitzherbert[ ], father to mr. alleyne fitzherbert, lately minister to the court of russia. of her, dr. johnson said, in dr. lawrence's study, that she had the best understanding he ever met with in any human being[ ]. at mr. meynell's he also commenced that friendship with mrs. hill boothby[ ], sister to the present sir brook boothby, which continued till her death. _the young woman whom he used to call molly aston_[ ], was sister to sir thomas aston, and daughter to a baronet; she was also sister to the wife of his friend mr. gilbert walmsley[ ]. besides his intimacy with the above-mentioned persons, who were surely people of rank and education, while he was yet at lichfield he used to be frequently at the house of dr. swinfen, a gentleman of a very ancient family in staffordshire, from which, after the death of his elder brother, he inherited a good estate. he was, besides, a physician of very extensive practice; but for want of due attention to the management of his domestick concerns, left a very large family in indigence. one of his daughters, mrs. desmoulins, afterwards found an asylum in the house of her old friend, whose doors were always open to the unfortunate, and who well observed the precept of the gospel, for he "was kind to the unthankful and to the evil[ ]."' [page : johnson an usher. a.d. .] in the forlorn state of his circumstances, he accepted of an offer to be employed as usher in the school of market-bosworth, in leicestershire, to which it appears, from one of his little fragments of a diary, that he went on foot, on the th of july.--'_julii . bosvortiam pedes petii_[ ].' but it is not true, as has been erroneously related, that he was assistant to the famous anthony blackwall, whose merit has been honoured by the testimony of bishop hurd[ ], who was his scholar; for mr. blackwall died on the th of april, [ ], more than a year before johnson left the university[ ]. this employment was very irksome to him in every respect, and he complained grievously of it in his letters to his friend mr. hector, who was now settled as a surgeon at birmingham. the letters are lost; but mr. hector recollects his writing 'that the poet had described the dull sameness of his existence in these words, "_vitam continet una dies_" (one day contains the whole of my life); that it was unvaried as the note of the cuckow; and that he did not know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or the boys to learn, the grammar rules.' his general aversion to this painful drudgery was greatly enhanced by a disagreement between him and sir wolstan dixey, the patron of the school, in whose house, i have been told, he officiated as a kind of domestick chaplain, so far, at least, as to say grace at table, but was treated with what he represented as intolerable harshness[ ]; and, after suffering for a few months such complicated misery[ ], he relinquished a situation which all his life afterwards he recollected with the strongest aversion, and even a degree of horrour[ ]. but it is probable that at this period, whatever uneasiness he may have endured, he laid the foundation of much future eminence by application to his studies. [page : his life in birmingham. Ætat .] being now again totally unoccupied, he was invited by mr. hector to pass some time with him at birmingham, as his guest, at the house of mr. warren, with whom mr. hector lodged and boarded. mr. warren was the first established bookseller in birmingham, and was very attentive to johnson, who he soon found could be of much service to him in his trade, by his knowledge of literature; and he even obtained the assistance of his pen in furnishing some numbers of a periodical essay printed in the news-paper, of which warren was proprietor[ ]. after very diligent inquiry, i have not been able to recover those early specimens of that particular mode of writing by which johnson afterwards so greatly distinguished himself. [page : lobo's voyage to abyssinia. a.d. .] he continued to live as mr. hector's guest for about six months, and then hired lodgings in another part of the town[ ], finding himself as well situated at birmingham[ ] as he supposed he could be any where, while he had no settled plan of life, and very scanty means of subsistence. he made some valuable acquaintances there, amongst whom were mr. porter, a mercer, whose widow he afterwards married, and mr. taylor[ ], who by his ingenuity in mechanical inventions, and his success in trade, acquired an immense fortune. but the comfort of being near mr. hector, his old school-fellow and intimate friend, was johnson's chief inducement to continue here. in what manner he employed his pen at this period, or whether he derived from it any pecuniary advantage, i have not been able to ascertain. he probably got a little money from mr. warren; and we are certain, that he executed here one piece of literary labour, of which mr. hector has favoured me with a minute account. having mentioned that he had read at pembroke college a voyage to abyssinia, by lobo, a portuguese jesuit, and that he thought an abridgment and translation of it from the french into english might be an useful and profitable publication, mr. warren and mr. hector joined in urging him to undertake it. he accordingly agreed; and the book not being to be found in birmingham, he borrowed it of pembroke college. a part of the work being very soon done, one osborn, who was mr. warren's printer, was set to work with what was ready, and johnson engaged to supply the press with copy as it should be wanted; but his constitutional indolence soon prevailed, and the work was at a stand. mr. hector, who knew that a motive of humanity would be the most prevailing argument with his friend, went to johnson, and represented to him, that the printer could have no other employment till this undertaking was finished, and that the poor man and his family were suffering. johnson upon this exerted the powers of his mind, though his body was relaxed. he lay in bed with the book, which was a quarto, before him, and dictated while hector wrote. mr. hector carried the sheets to the press, and corrected almost all the proof sheets, very few of which were even seen by johnson. in this manner, with the aid of mr. hector's active friendship, the book was completed, and was published in , with london upon the title-page, though it was in reality printed at birmingham, a device too common with provincial publishers. for this work he had from mr. warren only the sum of five guineas[ ]. this being the first prose work of johnson, it is a curious object of inquiry how much may be traced in it of that style which marks his subsequent writings with such peculiar excellence; with so happy an union of force, vivacity, and perspicuity. i have perused the book with this view, and have found that here, as i believe in every other translation, there is in the work itself no vestige of the translator's own style; for the language of translation being adapted to the thoughts of another person, insensibly follows their cast, and, as it were, runs into a mould that is ready prepared[ ]. thus, for instance, taking the first sentence that occurs at the opening of the book, p. . 'i lived here above a year, and completed my studies in divinity; in which time some letters were received from the fathers of ethiopia, with an account that sultan segned[ ], emperour of abyssinia, was converted to the church of rome; that many of his subjects had followed his example, and that there was a great want of missionaries to improve these prosperous beginnings. every body was very desirous of seconding the zeal of our fathers, and of sending them the assistance they requested; to which we were the more encouraged, because the emperour's letter informed our provincial, that we might easily enter his dominions by the way of dancala; but, unhappily, the secretary wrote geila[ ] for dancala, which cost two of our fathers their lives.' every one acquainted with johnson's manner will be sensible that there is nothing of it here; but that this sentence might have been composed by any other man. but, in the preface, the johnsonian style begins to appear; and though use had not yet taught his wing a permanent and equable flight, there are parts of it which exhibit his best manner in full vigour. i had once the pleasure of examining it with mr. edmund burke, who confirmed me in this opinion, by his superiour critical sagacity, and was, i remember, much delighted with the following specimen: 'the portuguese traveller, contrary to the general vein of his countrymen, has amused his reader with no romantick absurdity, or incredible fictions; whatever he relates, whether true or not, is at least probable; and he who tells nothing exceeding the bounds of probability, has a right to demand that they should believe him who cannot contradict him. 'he appears, by his modest and unaffected narration, to have described things as he saw them, to have copied nature from the life, and to have consulted his senses, not his imagination. he meets with no basilisks that destroy with their eyes, his crocodiles devour their prey without tears, and his cataracts fall from the rocks without deafening the neighbouring inhabitants[ ]. 'the reader will here find no regions cursed with irremediable barrenness, or blessed with spontaneous fecundity; no perpetual gloom, or unceasing sunshine; nor are the nations here described either devoid of all sense of humanity, or consummate in all private or social virtues. here are no hottentots without religious polity or articulate language[ ]; no chinese perfectly polite, and completely skilled in all sciences; he will discover, what will always be discovered by a diligent and impartial enquirer, that wherever human nature is to be found, there is a mixture of vice and virtue, a contest of passion and reason; and that the creator doth not appear partial in his distributions, but has balanced, in most countries, their particular inconveniencies by particular favours.' here we have an early example of that brilliant and energetick expression, which, upon innumerable occasions in his subsequent life, justly impressed the world with the highest admiration. nor can any one, conversant with the writings of johnson, fail to discern his hand in this passage of the dedication to john warren, esq. of pembrokeshire, though it is ascribed to warren the bookseller: 'a generous and elevated mind is distinguished by nothing more certainly than an eminent degree of curiosity[ ]; nor is that curiosity ever more agreeably or usefully employed, than in examining the laws and customs of foreign nations. i hope, therefore, the present i now presume to make, will not be thought improper; which, however, it is not my business as a dedicator to commend, nor as a bookseller to depreciate.' it is reasonable to suppose, that his having been thus accidentally led to a particular study of the history and manners of abyssinia, was the remote occasion of his writing, many years afterwards, his admirable philosophical tale[ ], the principal scene of which is laid in that country. [page : proposals to print politian. a.d. .] johnson returned to lichfield early in , and in august[ ] that year he made an attempt to procure some little subsistence by his pen; for he published proposals for printing by subscription the latin poems of politian[ ]: '_angeli politiani poemata latina, quibus, notas cum historiâ latinæ poeseos, à petrarchæ ævo ad politiani tempora deductâ, et vitâ politiani fusius quam antehac enarratâ, addidit_ sam. johnson[ ].' it appears that his brother nathanael[ ] had taken up his father's trade; for it is mentioned that 'subscriptions are taken in by the editor, or n. johnson, bookseller, of lichfield.' notwithstanding the merit of johnson, and the cheap price at which this book was offered, there were not subscribers enough to insure a sufficient sale; so the work never appeared, and probably, never was executed. [page : first letter to edward cave. Ætat .] we find him again this year at birmingham, and there is preserved the following letter from him to mr. edward cave[ ], the original compiler and editor of the _gentleman's magazine_: to mr. cave. _nov_. , . 'sir, 'as you appear no less sensible than your readers of the defects of your poetical article, you will not be displeased, if, in order to the improvement of it, i communicate to you the sentiments of a person, who will undertake, on reasonable terms, sometimes to fill a column. 'his opinion is, that the publick would not give you a bad reception, if, beside the current wit of the month, which a critical examination would generally reduce to a narrow compass, you admitted not only poems, inscriptions, &c. never printed before, which he will sometimes supply you with; but likewise short literary dissertations in latin or english, critical remarks on authours ancient or modern, forgotten poems that deserve revival, or loose pieces, like floyer's[ ], worth preserving. by this method, your literary article, for so it might be called, will, he thinks, be better recommended to the publick than by low jests, awkward buffoonery, or the dull scurrilities of either party. 'if such a correspondence will be agreeable to you, be pleased to inform me in two posts, what the conditions are on which you shall expect it. your late offer[ ] gives me no reason to distrust your generosity. if you engage in any literary projects besides this paper, i have other designs to impart, if i could be secure from having others reap the advantage of what i should hint. [page : verses on a sprig of myrtle. a.d. .] 'your letter by being directed to _s. smith_, to be left at the castle in[ ] birmingham, warwickshire, will reach 'your humble servant.' mr. cave has put a note on this letter, 'answered dec. .' but whether any thing was done in consequence of it we are not informed. johnson had, from his early youth, been sensible to the influence of female charms. when at stourbridge school, he was much enamoured of olivia lloyd, a young quaker, to whom he wrote a copy of verses, which i have not been able to recover; but with what facility and elegance he could warble the amorous lay, will appear from the following lines which he wrote for his friend mr. edmund hector. [page : boswell's controversy with miss seward. Ætat .] verses _to a_ lady, _on receiving from her a_ sprig of myrtle. 'what hopes, what terrours does thy gift create, ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate: the myrtle, ensign of supreme command, consign'd by venus to melissa's hand; not less capricious than a reigning fair, now grants, and now rejects a lover's prayer. in myrtle shades oft sings the happy swain, in myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain; the myrtle crowns the happy lovers' heads, the unhappy lovers' grave the myrtle spreads: o then the meaning of thy gift impart, and ease the throbbings of an anxious heart! soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom, adorn philander's head, or grace his tomb[ ].' [page : johnson's personal appearance. a.d. .] his juvenile attachments to the fair sex were, however, very transient; and it is certain that he formed no criminal connection whatsoever. mr. hector, who lived with him in his younger days in the utmost intimacy and social freedom, has assured me, that even at that ardent season his conduct was strictly virtuous in that respect[ ]; and that though he loved to exhilarate himself with wine, he never knew him intoxicated but once[ ]. [page : mrs. porter. Ætat .] in a man whom religious education has secured from licentious indulgences, the passion of love, when once it has seized him, is exceedingly strong; being unimpaired by dissipation, and totally concentrated in one object. this was experienced by johnson, when he became the fervent admirer of mrs. porter, after her first husband's death[ ]. miss porter told me, that when he was first introduced to her mother, his appearance was very forbidding: he was then lean and lank, so that his immense structure of bones was hideously striking to the eye, and the scars of the scrophula were deeply visible[ ]. he also wore his hair[ ], which was straight and stiff, and separated behind: and he often had, seemingly, convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which tended to excite at once surprize and ridicule[ ]. mrs. porter was so much engaged by his conversation that she overlooked all these external disadvantages, and said to her daughter, 'this is the most sensible man that i ever saw in my life.' though mrs. porter was double the age of johnson[ ], and her person and manner, as described to me by the late mr. garrick, were by no means pleasing to others, she must have had a superiority of understanding and talents, as she certainly inspired him with a more than ordinary passion; and she having signified her willingness to accept of his hand, he went to lichfield to ask his mother's consent to the marriage, which he could not but be conscious was a very imprudent scheme, both on account of their disparity of years, and her want of fortune[ ]. but mrs. johnson knew too well the ardour of her son's temper, and was too tender a parent to oppose his inclinations. [page : johnson's marriage. a.d. .] i know not for what reason the marriage ceremony was not performed at birmingham; but a resolution was taken that it should be at derby, for which place the bride and bridegroom set out on horseback, i suppose in very good humour. but though mr. topham beauclerk used archly to mention johnson's having told him, with much gravity, 'sir, it was a love marriage on both sides,' i have had from my illustrious friend the following curious account of their journey to church upon the nuptial morn: th july:--'sir, she had read the old romances, and had got into her head the fantastical notion that a woman of spirit should use her lover like a dog. so, sir, at first she told me that i rode too fast, and she could not keep up with me; and, when i rode a little slower, she passed me, and complained that i lagged behind. i was not to be made the slave of caprice; and i resolved to begin as i meant to end. i therefore pushed on briskly, till i was fairly out of her sight. the road lay between two hedges, so i was sure she could not miss it; and i contrived that she should soon come up with me. when she did, i observed her to be in tears.' this, it must be allowed, was a singular beginning of connubial felicity; but there is no doubt that johnson, though he thus shewed a manly firmness, proved a most affectionate and indulgent husband to the last moment of mrs. johnson's life: and in his _prayers and meditations_, we find very remarkable evidence that his regard and fondness for her never ceased, even after her death. [page : his school at edial. Ætat .] he now set up a private academy[ ], for which purpose he hired a large house, well situated near his native city. in the _gentleman's magazine_ for , there is the following advertisement: 'at edial, near lichfield[ ], in staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded and taught the latin and greek languages, by samuel johnson.' but the only pupils that were put under his care were the celebrated david garrick and his brother george, and a mr. offely, a young gentleman of good fortune who died early. as yet, his name had nothing of that celebrity which afterwards commanded the highest attention and respect of mankind. had such an advertisement appeared after the publication of his _london_, or his _rambler_, or his _dictionary_, how would it have burst upon the world! with what eagerness would the great and the wealthy have embraced an opportunity of putting their sons under the learned tuition of samuel johnson. the truth, however, is, that he was not so well qualified for being a teacher of elements, and a conductor in learning by regular gradations, as men of inferiour powers of mind. his own acquisitions had been made by fits and starts, by violent irruptions into the regions of knowledge; and it could not be expected that his impatience would be subdued, and his impetuosity restrained, so as to fit him for a quiet guide to novices. the art of communicating instruction, of whatever kind, is much to be valued; and i have ever thought that those who devote themselves to this employment, and do their duty with diligence and success, are entitled to very high respect from the community, as johnson himself often maintained[ ]. yet i am of opinion that the greatest abilities are not only not required for this office, but render a man less fit for it. [page : garrick johnson's pupil. a.d. .] while we acknowledge the justness of thomson's beautiful remark, 'delightful task! to rear the tender thought, and teach[ ] the young idea how to shoot!' we must consider that this delight is perceptible only by 'a mind at ease,' a mind at once calm and clear; but that a mind gloomy and impetuous like that of johnson, cannot be fixed for any length of time in minute attention, and must be so frequently irritated by unavoidable slowness and errour in the advances of scholars, as to perform the duty, with little pleasure to the teacher, and no great advantage to the pupils[ ]. good temper is a most essential requisite in a preceptor. horace paints the character as _bland_: '... _ut pueris olim dant crustula blandi doctores, elementa velint ut discere_[ ].' [page : mrs. johnson. Ætat .] johnson was not more satisfied with his situation as the master of an academy, than with that of the usher of a school; we need not wonder, therefore, that he did not keep his academy above a year and a half. from mr. garrick's account he did not appear to have been profoundly reverenced by his pupils. his oddities of manner, and uncouth gesticulations, could not but be the subject of merriment to them; and, in particular, the young rogues used to listen at the door of his bed-chamber, and peep through the key-hole, that they might turn into ridicule his tumultuous and awkward fondness for mrs. johnson, whom he used to name by the familiar appellation of _tetty_ or _tetsey_, which, like _betty_ or _betsey_, is provincially used as a contraction for _elisabeth_, her christian name, but which to us seems ludicrous, when applied to a woman of her age and appearance. mr. garrick described her to me as very fat, with a bosom of more than ordinary protuberance, with swelled cheeks of a florid red, produced by thick painting, and increased by the liberal use of cordials; flaring and fantastick in her dress, and affected both in her speech and her general behaviour. i have seen garrick exhibit her, by his exquisite talent of mimickry, so as to excite the heartiest bursts of laughter; but he, probably, as is the case in all such representations, considerably aggravated the picture[ ]. that johnson well knew the most proper course to be pursued in the instruction of youth, is authentically ascertained by the following paper[ ] in his own hand-writing, given about this period to a relation, and now in the possession of mr. john nichols: 'scheme _for the_ classes _of a_ grammar school. 'when the introduction, or formation of nouns and verbs, is perfectly mastered, let them learn: 'corderius by mr. clarke, beginning at the same time to translate out of the introduction, that by this means they may learn the syntax. then let them proceed to: 'erasmus, with an english translation, by the same authour. 'class ii. learns eutropius and cornelius nepos, or justin, with the translation. 'n.b. the first class gets for their part every morning the rules which they have learned before, and in the afternoon learns the latin rules of the nouns and verbs. [page : a scheme of study. a.d. .] 'they are examined in the rules which they have learned every thursday and saturday. 'the second class does the same whilst they are in eutropius; afterwards their part is in the irregular nouns and verbs, and in the rules for making and scanning verses. they are examined as the first. 'class iii. ovid's metamorphoses in the morning, and caesar's commentaries in the afternoon. 'practise in the latin rules till they are perfect in them; afterwards in mr. leeds's greek grammar. examined as before. 'afterwards they proceed to virgil, beginning at the same time to write themes and verses, and to learn greek; from thence passing on to horace, &c. as shall seem most proper. 'i know not well what books to direct you to, because you have not informed me what study you will apply yourself to. i believe it will be most for your advantage to apply yourself wholly to the languages, till you go to the university. the greek authours i think it best for you to read are these: 'cebes. 'Ælian. } 'lucian by leeds. } attick. 'xenophon. } 'homer. ionick. 'theocritus. dorick. 'euripides. attick and dorick. 'thus you will be tolerably skilled in all the dialects, beginning with the attick, to which the rest must be referred. 'in the study of latin, it is proper not to read the latter authours, till you are well versed in those of the purest ages; as terence, tully, cæsar, sallust, nepos, velleius paterculus, virgil, horace, phædrus. 'the greatest and most necessary task still remains, to attain a habit of expression, without which knowledge is of little use. this is necessary in latin, and more necessary in english; and can only be acquired by a daily imitation of the best and correctest authours. 'sam. johnson.' while johnson kept his academy, there can be no doubt that he was insensibly furnishing his mind with various knowledge; but i have not discovered that he wrote any thing except a great part of his tragedy of _irene_. mr. peter garrick, the elder brother of david, told me that he remembered johnson's borrowing the _turkish history_[ ] of him, in order to form his play from it. when he had finished some part of it, he read what he had done to mr. walmsley, who objected to his having already brought his heroine into great distress, and asked him, 'how can you possibly contrive to plunge her into deeper calamity?' johnson, in sly allusion to the supposed oppressive proceedings of the court of which mr. walmsley was register, replied, 'sir, i can put her into the spiritual court!' [page : johnson tries his fortune in london. Ætat .] mr. walmsley, however, was well pleased with this proof of johnson's abilities as a dramatick writer, and advised him to finish the tragedy, and produce it on the stage. johnson now thought of trying his fortune in london, the great field of genius and exertion, where talents of every kind have the fullest scope, and the highest encouragement. it is a memorable circumstance that his pupil david garrick went thither at the same time[ ], with intention to complete his education, and follow the profession of the law, from which he was soon diverted by his decided preference for the stage. this joint expedition of those two eminent men to the metropolis, was many years afterwards noticed in an allegorical poem on shakspeare's mulberry tree, by mr. lovibond, the ingenious authour of _the tears of old-may-day_[ ]. they were recommended to mr. colson[ ], an eminent mathematician and master of an academy, by the following letter from mr. walmsley: [page : mr. walmsley's letter. a.d. .] 'to the reverend mr. colson. 'lichfield, march , . 'dear sir, 'i had the favour of yours, and am extremely obliged to you; but i cannot say i had a greater affection for you upon it than i had before, being long since so much endeared to you, as well by an early friendship, as by your many excellent and valuable qualifications; and, had i a son of my own, it would be my ambition, instead of sending him to the university, to dispose of him as this young gentleman is. 'he, and another neighbour of mine, one mr. samuel johnson, set out this morning for london together. davy garrick is to be with you early the next week, and mr. johnson to try his fate with a tragedy, and to see to get himself employed in some translation, either from the latin or the french. johnson is a very good scholar and poet, and i have great hopes will turn out a fine tragedy-writer. if it should any way lie in your way, doubt[ ] not but you would be ready to recommend and assist your countryman. 'g. walmsley.' [page : like in london. Ætat .] how he employed himself upon his first coming to london is not particularly known[ ]. i never heard that he found any protection or encouragement by the means of mr. colson, to whose academy david garrick went. mrs. lucy porter told me, that mr. walmsley gave him a letter of introduction to lintot[ ] his bookseller, and that johnson wrote some things for him; but i imagine this to be a mistake, for i have discovered no trace of it, and i am pretty sure he told me that mr. cave was the first publisher by whom his pen was engaged in london. he had a little money when he came to town, and he knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. his first lodgings were at the house of mr. norris, a staymaker, in exeter-street, adjoining catharine-street, in the strand. 'i dined (said he) very well for eight-pence, with very good company, at the pine apple in new-street, just by. several of them had travelled. they expected to meet every day; but did not know one another's names. it used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but i had a cut of meat for six-pence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny; so that i was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing[ ].' [page : abstinence from wine. a.d. .] he at this time, i believe, abstained entirely from fermented liquors: a practice to which he rigidly conformed for many years together, at different periods of his life[ ]. [page : an irish ofellus. Ætat .] his ofellus in the _art of living in london_, i have heard him relate, was an irish painter, whom he knew at birmingham, and who had practised his own precepts of oeconomy for several years in the british capital[ ]. he assured johnson, who, i suppose, was then meditating to try his fortune in london, but was apprehensive of the expence, 'that thirty pounds a year was enough to enable a man to live there without being contemptible. he allowed ten pounds for clothes and linen. he said a man might live in a garret at eighteen-pence a week; few people would inquire where he lodged; and if they did, it was easy to say, 'sir, i am to be found at such a place.' by spending three-pence in a coffee-house, he might be for some hours every day in very good company; he might dine for six-pence, breakfast on bread and milk for a penny, and do without supper. on _clean-shirt-day_ he went abroad, and paid visits.' i have heard him more than once talk of this frugal friend, whom he recollected with esteem and kindness, and did not like to have one smile at the recital. 'this man (said he, gravely) was a very sensible man, who perfectly understood common affairs: a man of a great deal of knowledge of the world, fresh from life, not strained through books[ ]. he borrowed a horse and ten pounds at birmingham. finding himself master of so much money, he set off for west chester[ ], in order to get to ireland. he returned the horse, and probably the ten pounds too, after he got home.' [page : mr. henry hervey. a.d. .] considering johnson's narrow circumstances in the early part of his life, and particularly at the interesting aera of his launching into the ocean of london, it is not to be wondered at, that an actual instance, proved by experience of the possibility of enjoying the intellectual luxury of social life, upon a very small income, should deeply engage his attention, and be ever recollected by him as a circumstance of much importance. he amused himself, i remember, by computing how much more expence was absolutely necessary to live upon the same scale with that which his friend described, when the value of money was diminished by the progress of commerce. it maybe estimated that double the money might now with difficulty be sufficient. amidst this cold obscurity, there was one brilliant circumstance to cheer him; he was well acquainted with mr. henry hervey[ ], one of the branches of the noble family of that name, who had been quartered at lichfield as an officer of the army, and had at this time a house in london, where johnson was frequently entertained, and had an opportunity of meeting genteel company. not very long before his death, he mentioned this, among other particulars of his life, which he was kindly communicating to me; and he described this early friend, 'harry hervey,' thus: 'he was a vicious man, but very kind to me. if you call a dog hervey, i shall love him.' he told me he had now written only three acts of his _irene_, and that he retired for some time to lodgings at greenwich, where he proceeded in it somewhat further, and used to compose, walking in the park[ ]; but did not stay long enough at that place to finish it. at this period we find the following letter from him to mr. edward cave, which, as a link in the chain of his literary history, it is proper to insert: [page : johnson returns to lichfield. Ætat .] 'to mr. cave. 'greenwich, next door to the golden heart, 'church-street, july , . 'sir, 'having observed in your papers very uncommon offers of encouragement to men of letters, i have chosen, being a stranger in london, to communicate to you the following design, which, i hope, if you join in it, will be of advantage to both of us. 'the history of the council of trent having been lately translated into french, and published with large notes by dr. le courayer[ ], the reputation of that book is so much revived in england, that, it is presumed, a new translation of it from the italian, together with le courayer's notes from the french, could not fail of a favourable reception. 'if it be answered, that the history is already in english, it must be remembered, that there was the same objection against le courayer's undertaking, with this disadvantage, that the french had a version by one of their best translators, whereas you cannot read three pages of the english history without discovering that the style is capable of great improvements; but whether those improvements are to be expected from the attempt, you must judge from the specimen, which, if you approve the proposal, i shall submit to your examination. 'suppose the merit of the versions equal, we may hope that the addition of the notes will turn the balance in our favour, considering the reputation of the annotator. 'be pleased to favour me with a speedy answer, if you are not willing to engage in this scheme; and appoint me a day to wait upon you, if you are. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' it should seem from this letter, though subscribed with his own name, that he had not yet been introduced to mr. cave. we shall presently see what was done in consequence of the proposal which it contains. [page : irene. a.d. .] in the course of the summer he returned to lichfield, where he had left mrs. johnson, and there he at last finished his tragedy, which was not executed with his rapidity of composition upon other occasions, but was slowly and painfully elaborated. a few days before his death, while burning a great mass of papers, he picked out from among them the original unformed sketch of this tragedy, in his own hand-writing, and gave it to mr. langton, by whose favour a copy of it is now in my possession. it contains fragments of the intended plot, and speeches for the different persons of the drama, partly in the raw materials of prose, partly worked up into verse; as also a variety of hints for illustration, borrowed from the greek, roman, and modern writers. the hand-writing is very difficult to be read, even by those who were best acquainted with johnson's mode of penmanship, which at all times was very particular. the king having graciously accepted of this manuscript as a literary curiosity, mr. langton made a fair and distinct copy of it, which he ordered to be bound up with the original and the printed tragedy; and the volume is deposited in the king's library[ ]. his majesty was pleased to permit mr. langton to take a copy of it for himself. the whole of it is rich in thought and imagery, and happy expressions; and of the _disjecta membra_[ ] scattered throughout, and as yet unarranged, a good dramatick poet might avail himself with considerable advantage. i shall give my readers some specimens of different kinds, distinguishing them by the italick character. 'nor think to say, here will i stop, here will i fix the limits of transgression, nor farther tempt the avenging rage of heaven. when guilt like this once harbours in the breast, those holy beings, whose unseen direction guides through the maze of life the steps of man, fly the detested mansions of impiety, and quit their charge to horrour and to ruin.' a small part only of this interesting admonition is preserved in the play, and is varied, i think, not to advantage: 'the soul once tainted with so foul a crime, no more shall glow with friendship's hallow'd ardour, those holy beings whose superior care guides erring mortals to the paths of virtue, affrighted at impiety like thine, resign their charge to baseness and to ruin[ ].' '_i feel the soft infection flush in my cheek, and wander in my veins. teach me the grecian arts of soft persuasion.' 'sure this is love, which heretofore i conceived the dream of idle maids, and wanton poets.' 'though no comets or prodigies foretold the ruin of greece, signs which heaven must by another miracle enable us to understand, yet might it be foreshewn, by tokens no less certain, by the vices which always bring it on_.' this last passage is worked up in the tragedy itself, as follows: leontius. '----that power that kindly spreads the clouds, a signal of impending showers, to warn the wand'ring linnet to the shade, beheld, without concern, expiring greece, and not one prodigy foretold our fate. demetrius. 'a thousand horrid prodigies foretold it; a feeble government, eluded laws, a factious populace, luxurious nobles, and all the maladies of sinking states. when publick villainy, too strong for justice, shows his bold front, the harbinger of ruin, can brave leontius call for airy wonders, which cheats interpret, and which fools regard? when some neglected fabrick nods beneath the weight of years, and totters to the tempest, must heaven despatch the messengers of light, or wake the dead, to warn us of its fall[ ]?' mahomet (to irene). 'i have tried thee, and joy to find that thou deservest to be loved by mahomet,--with a mind great as his own. sure, thou art an errour of nature, and an exception to the rest of thy sex, and art immortal; for sentiments like thine were never to sink into nothing. i thought all the thoughts of the fair had been to select the graces of the day, dispose the colours of the flaunting (flowing) robe, tune the voice and roll the eye, place the gem, choose the dress, and add new roses to the fading cheek, but--sparkling.' [page : johnson settles in london. a.d. .] thus in the tragedy: 'illustrious maid, new wonders fix me thine; thy soul completes the triumphs of thy face: i thought, forgive my fair, the noblest aim, the strongest effort of a female soul was but to choose the graces of the day, to tune the tongue, to teach the eyes to roll, dispose the colours of the flowing robe, and add new roses to the faded cheek[ ].' i shall select one other passage, on account of the doctrine which it illustrates. irene observes, 'that the supreme being will accept of virtue, whatever outward circumstances it may be accompanied with, and may be delighted with varieties of worship: _but is answered_, that variety cannot affect that being, who, infinitely happy in his own perfections, wants no external gratifications; nor can infinite truth be delighted with falsehood; that though he may guide or pity those he leaves in darkness, he abandons those who shut their eyes against the beams of day.' johnson's residence at lichfield, on his return to it at this time, was only for three months; and as he had as yet seen but a small part of the wonders of the metropolis, he had little to tell his townsmen. he related to me the following minute anecdote of this period: 'in the last age, when my mother lived in london, there were two sets of people, those who gave the wall, and those who took it; the peaceable and the quarrelsome. when i returned to lichfield, after having been in london, my mother asked me, whether i was one of those who gave the wall, or those who took it. _now_ it is fixed that every man keeps to the right; or, if one is taking the wall, another yields it; and it is never a dispute[ ].' he now removed to london with mrs. johnson; but her daughter, who had lived with them at edial, was left with her relations in the country[ ]. his lodgings were for some time in woodstock-street, near hanover-square, and afterwards in castle-street, near cavendish-square. as there is something pleasingly interesting, to many, in tracing so great a man through all his different habitations, i shall, before this work is concluded, present my readers with an exact list of his lodgings and houses, in order of time, which, in placid condescension to my respectful curiosity, he one evening dictated to me[ ], but without specifying how long he lived at each. in the progress of his life i shall have occasion to mention some of them as connected with particular incidents, or with the writing of particular parts of his works. to some, this minute attention may appear trifling; but when we consider the punctilious exactness with which the different houses in which milton resided have been traced by the writers of his life, a similar enthusiasm may be pardoned in the biographer of johnson. [page : the gentleman's magazine. Ætat .] his tragedy being by this time, as he thought, completely finished and fit for the stage, he was very desirous that it should be brought forward. mr. peter garrick told me, that johnson and he went together to the fountain tavern, and read it over, and that he afterwards solicited mr. fleetwood, the patentee of drury-lane theatre, to have it acted at his house; but mr. fleetwood would not accept it, probably because it was not patronized by some man of high rank[ ]; and it was not acted till , when his friend david garrick was manager of that theatre. _the gentleman's magazine_, begun and carried on by mr. edward cave, under the name of sylvanus urban[ ], had attracted the notice and esteem of johnson, in an eminent degree, before he came to london as an adventurer in literature. he told me, that when he first saw st. john's gate, the place where that deservedly popular miscellany[ ] was originally printed, he 'beheld it with reverence[ ].' i suppose, indeed, that every young authour has had the same kind of feeling for the magazine or periodical publication which has first entertained him, and in which he has first had an opportunity to see himself in print, without the risk of exposing his name. i myself recollect such impressions from '_the scots magazine_,' which was begun at edinburgh in the year , and has been ever conducted with judgement, accuracy, and propriety. i yet cannot help thinking of it with an affectionate regard. johnson has dignified the _gentleman's magazine_, by the importance with which he invests the life of cave; but he has given it still greater lustre by the various admirable essays which he wrote for it. [page : a list of johnson's writings. a.d. .] though johnson was often solicited by his friends to make a complete list of his writings, and talked of doing it, i believe with a serious intention that they should all be collected on his own account, he put it off from year to year, and at last died without having done it perfectly. i have one in his own handwriting, which contains a certain number[ ]; i indeed doubt if he could have remembered every one of them, as they were so numerous, so various, and scattered in such a multiplicity of unconnected publications; nay, several of them published under the names of other persons, to whom he liberally contributed from the abundance of his mind. we must, therefore, be content to discover them, partly from occasional information given by him to his friends, and partly from internal evidence[ ]. [page : edward cave. Ætat .] his first performance in the _gentleman's magazine_, which for many years was his principal source for employment and support, was a copy of latin verses, in march , addressed to the editor in so happy a style of compliment, that cave must have been destitute both of taste and sensibility had he not felt himself highly gratified[ ]. [page : 'ad urbanum.' a.d. .] '_ad_ urbanum'. urbane[ ], _nullis fesse laboribus_, urbane, _nullis victe calumniis_[ ], cui fronte sertum in eruditâ perpetuò viret et virebit; quid moliatur gens imilantium, quid et minetur, solicitus parùm, vacare solis perge musis, juxta animo studiisque felix. linguæ procacis plumbea spicula, fidens, superbo frange silentio; victrix per obstantes catervas sedulitas animosa tendet. intende nervos, fortis, inanibus risurus olim nisibus æmuli; intende jam nervos, habebis participes operæ camoenas. non ulla musis pagina gratior, quam quæ severis ludicra jungere novit, fatigatamque nugis utilibus recreare mentem. texente nymphis serta lycoride, rosæ ruborem sic viola adjuvat immista, sic iris refulget Æthereis variata fucis[ ].' s.j. [page : reports of the debates. Ætat .] [page : libels in the press. a.d. .] it appears that he was now enlisted by mr. cave as a regular coadjutor in his magazine, by which he probably obtained a tolerable livelihood. at what time, or by what means, he had acquired a competent knowledge both of french[ ] and italian[ ], i do not know; but he was so well skilled in them, as to be sufficiently qualified for a translator. that part of his labour which consisted in emendation and improvement of the productions of other contributors, like that employed in levelling ground, can be perceived only by those who had an opportunity of comparing the original with the altered copy. what we certainly know to have been done by him in this way, was the debates in both houses of parliament, under the name of 'the senate of lilliput,' sometimes with feigned denominations of the several speakers, sometimes with denominations formed of the letters of their real names, in the manner of what is called anagram, so that they might easily be decyphered. parliament then kept the press in a kind of mysterious awe, which made it necessary to have recourse to such devices. in our time it has acquired an unrestrained freedom, so that the people in all parts of the kingdom have a fair, open, and exact report of the actual proceedings of their representatives and legislators, which in our constitution is highly to be valued; though, unquestionably, there has of late been too much reason to complain of the petulance with which obscure scribblers have presumed to treat men of the most respectable character and situation[ ]. [page : william guthrie. Ætat .] this important article of the _gentleman's magazine_ was, for several years, executed by mr. william guthrie, a man who deserves to be respectably recorded in the literary annals of this country. he was descended of an ancient family in scotland; but having a small patrimony, and being an adherent of the unfortunate house of stuart, he could not accept of any office in the state; he therefore came to london, and employed his talents and learning as an 'authour by profession[ ].' his writings in history, criticism, and politicks, had considerable merit[ ]. he was the first english historian who had recourse to that authentick source of information, the parliamentary journals; and such was the power of his political pen, that, at an early period, government thought it worth their while to keep it quiet by a pension, which he enjoyed till his death. johnson esteemed him enough to wish that his life should be written[ ]. the debates in parliament, which were brought home and digested by guthrie, whose memory, though surpassed by others who have since followed him in the same department, was yet very quick and tenacious, were sent by cave to johnson for his revision[ ]; and, after some time, when guthrie had attained to greater variety of employment, and the speeches were more and more enriched by the accession of johnson's genius, it was resolved that he should do the whole himself, from the scanty notes furnished by persons employed to attend in both houses of parliament. sometimes, however, as he himself told me, he had nothing more communicated to him than the names of the several speakers, and the part which they had taken in the debate[ ]. [page : london, a poem. a.d. .] thus was johnson employed during some of the best years of his life, as a mere literary labourer 'for gain, not glory[ ],' solely to obtain an honest support. he however indulged himself in occasional little sallies, which the french so happily express by the term _jeux d'esprit_, and which will be noticed in their order, in the progress of this work. [page : oldham and johnson compared. Ætat .] but what first displayed his transcendent powers, and 'gave the world assurance of the man[ ],' was his _london, a poem, in imitation of the third satire of juvenal_: which came out in may this year, and burst forth with a splendour, the rays of which will for ever encircle his name. boileau had imitated the same satire with great success, applying it to paris; but an attentive comparison will satisfy every reader, that he is much excelled by the english juvenal. oldham had also imitated it, and applied it to london; all which performances concur to prove, that great cities, in every age, and in every country, will furnish similar topicks of satire[ ]. whether johnson had previously read oldham's imitation, i do not know; but it is not a little remarkable, that there is scarcely any coincidence found between the two performances, though upon the very same subject. the only instances are, in describing london as the _sink_ of foreign worthlessness: '----the _common shore_, where france does all her filth and ordure pour.' oldham. 'the _common shore_ of paris and of rome.' johnson. and, 'no calling or profession comes amiss, a _needy monsieur_ can be what he please.' oldham. 'all sciences a _fasting monsieur_ knows.' johnson. the particulars which oldham has collected, both as exhibiting the horrours of london, and of the times, contrasted with better days, are different from those of johnson, and in general well chosen, and well exprest[ ]. there are, in oldham's imitation, many prosaick verses and bad rhymes, and his poem sets out with a strange inadvertent blunder: 'tho' much concern'd to _leave_ my dear old friend, i must, however, _his_ design commend of fixing in the country--.' [page : the publication of london. a.d. .] it is plain he was not going to leave his _friend_; his friend was going to leave _him_. a young lady at once corrected this with good critical sagacity, to 'tho' much concern'd to _lose_ my dear old friend.' there is one passage in the original, better transfused by oldham than by johnson: 'nil habet infelix paupertas durius in se, quàm quod ridiculos homines facit;' which is an exquisite remark on the galling meanness and contempt annexed to poverty: johnson's imitation is, 'of all the griefs that harass the distrest, sure the most bitter is a scornful jest.' oldham's, though less elegant, is more just: 'nothing in poverty so ill is borne, as its exposing men to grinning scorn.' where, or in what manner this poem was composed, i am sorry that i neglected to ascertain with precision, from johnson's own authority. he has marked upon his corrected copy of the first edition of it, 'written in ;' and, as it was published in the month of may in that year, it is evident that much time was not employed in preparing it for the press. the history of its publication i am enabled to give in a very satisfactory manner; and judging from myself, and many of my friends, i trust that it will not be uninteresting to my readers. [page : johnson's letters to cave. Ætat .] we may be certain, though it is not expressly named in the following letters to mr. cave, in , that they all relate to it: 'to mr. cave. 'castle-street, wednesday morning. [_no date_. .] 'sir, 'when i took the liberty of writing to you a few days ago, i did not expect a repetition of the same pleasure so soon; for a pleasure i shall always think it, to converse in any manner with an ingenious and candid man; but having the inclosed poem in my hands to dispose of for the benefit of the authour, (of whose abilities i shall say nothing, since i send you his performance,) i believed i could not procure more advantageous terms from any person than from you, who have so much distinguished yourself by your generous encouragement of poetry; and whose judgment of that art nothing but your commendation of my trifle[ ] can give me any occasion to call in question. i do not doubt but you will look over this poem with another eye, and reward it in a different manner, from a mercenary bookseller, who counts the lines he is to purchase[ ], and considers nothing but the bulk. i cannot help taking notice, that, besides what the authour may hope for on account of his abilities, he has likewise another claim to your regard, as he lies at present under very disadvantageous circumstances of fortune. i beg, therefore, that you will favour me with a letter to-morrow, that i may know what you can afford to allow him, that he may either part with it to you, or find out, (which i do not expect,) some other way more to his satisfaction. 'i have only to add, that as i am sensible i have transcribed it very coarsely, which, after having altered it, i was obliged to do, i will, if you please to transmit the sheets from the press, correct it for you; and take the trouble of altering any stroke of satire which you may dislike. 'by exerting on this occasion your usual generosity, you will not only encourage learning, and relieve distress, but (though it be in comparison of the other motives of very small account) oblige in a very sensible manner, sir, 'your very humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'to mr. cave. 'monday, no. , castle-street. sir, 'i am to return you thanks for the present you were so kind as to send by me[ ], and to intreat that you will be pleased to inform me by the penny-post[ ], whether you resolve to print the poem. if you please to send it me by the post, with a note to dodsley, i will go and read the lines to him, that we may have his consent to put his name in the title-page. as to the printing, if it can be set immediately about, i will be so much the authour's friend, as not to content myself with mere solicitations in his favour. i propose, if my calculation be near the truth, to engage for the reimbursement of all that you shall lose by an impression of ; provided, as you very generously propose, that the profit, if any, be set aside for the authour's use, excepting the present you made, which, if he be a gainer, it is fit he should repay. i beg that you will let one of your servants write an exact account of the expense of such an impression, and send it with the poem, that i may know what i engage for. i am very sensible, from your generosity on this occasion, of your regard to learning, even in its unhappiest state; and cannot but think such a temper deserving of the gratitude of those who suffer so often from a contrary disposition. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' [page : mrs. carter. a.d. .] 'to mr. cave. [no date[ ].] 'sir, 'i waited on you to take the copy to dodsley's: as i remember the number of lines which it contains, it will be no longer than _eugenio_[ ], with the quotations, which must be subjoined at the bottom of the page; part of the beauty of the performance (if any beauty be allowed it) consisting in adapting juvenal's sentiments to modern facts and persons. it will, with those additions, very conveniently make five sheets. and since the expense will be no more, i shall contentedly insure it, as i mentioned in my last. if it be not therefore gone to dodsley's, i beg it may be sent me by the penny-post, that i may have it in the evening. i have composed a greek epigram to eliza[ ], and think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as lewis le grand[ ]. pray send me word when you will begin upon the poem, for it is a long way to walk. i would leave my epigram, but have not daylight to transcribe it[ ]. i am, sir, 'your's, &c., 'sam. johnson[ ].' [page : negotiations with dodsley. Ætat .] 'to mr. cave. [no date.] 'sir, 'i am extremely obliged by your kind letter, and will not fail to attend you to-morrow with _irene_, who looks upon you as one of her best friends. 'i was to day with mr. dodsley, who declares very warmly in favour of the paper you sent him, which he desires to have a share in, it being, as he says, _a creditable thing to be concerned in_. i knew not what answer to make till i had consulted you, nor what to demand on the authour's part, but am very willing that, if you please, he should have a part in it, as he will undoubtedly be more diligent to disperse and promote it. if you can send me word to-morrow what i shall say to him, i will settle matters, and bring the poem with me for the press, which, as the town empties, we cannot be too quick with. i am, sir, 'your's, &c., 'sam. johnson.' [page : payment for london. a.d. .] to us who have long known the manly force, bold spirit, and masterly versification of this poem, it is a matter of curiosity to observe the diffidence with which its authour brought it forward into publick notice, while he is so cautious as not to avow it to be his own production; and with what humility he offers to allow the printer to 'alter any stroke of satire which he might dislike[ ].' that any such alteration was made, we do not know. if we did, we could not but feel an indignant regret; but how painful is it to see that a writer of such vigorous powers of mind was actually in such distress, that the small profit which so short a poem, however excellent, could yield, was courted as a 'relief.' it has been generally said, i know not with what truth, that johnson offered his _london_ to several booksellers, none of whom would purchase it. to this circumstance mr. derrick alludes in the following lines of his _fortune, a rhapsody_: 'will no kind patron johnson own? shall johnson friendless range the town? and every publisher refuse the offspring of his happy muse[ ]?' but we have seen that the worthy, modest, and ingenious mr. robert dodsley[ ] had taste enough to perceive its uncommon merit, and thought it creditable to have a share in it. the fact is, that, at a future conference, he bargained for the whole property of it, for which he gave johnson ten guineas[ ]; who told me, 'i might, perhaps, have accepted of less; but that paul whitehead had a little before got ten guineas for a poem and i would not take less than paul whitehead.' [page : paul whitehead. Ætat .] i may here observe, that johnson appeared to me to undervalue paul whitehead upon every occasion when he was mentioned, and, in my opinion, did not do him justice; but when it is considered that paul whitehead was a member of a riotous and profane club[ ], we may account for johnson's having a prejudice against him. paul whitehead was, indeed, unfortunate in being not only slighted by johnson, but violently attacked by churchill, who utters the following imprecation: 'may i (can worse disgrace on manhood fall?) be born a whitehead, and baptiz'd a paul[ ]!' yet i shall never be persuaded to think meanly of the authour of so brilliant and pointed a satire as _manners_[ ]. [page : was richard savage thales? a.d. .] johnson's _london_ was published in may, [ ]; and it is remarkable, that it came out on the same morning with pope's satire, entitled ' [ ];' so that england had at once its juvenal and horace[ ] as poetical monitors. the reverend dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, to whom i am indebted for some obliging communications, was then a student at oxford, and remembers well the effect which _london_ produced. every body was delighted with it; and there being no name to it, the first buz of the literary circles was 'here is an unknown poet, greater even than pope.' and it is recorded in the _gentleman s magazine_ of that year[ ], that it 'got to the second edition in the course of a week.' [page : general oglethorpe. Ætat .] one of the warmest patrons of this poem on its first appearance was general oglethorpe, whose 'strong benevolence of soul[ ],' was unabated during the course of a very long life[ ]; though it is painful to think, that he had but too much reason to become cold and callous, and discontented with the world, from the neglect which he experienced of his publick and private worth, by those in whose power it was to gratify so gallant a veteran with marks of distinction. this extraordinary person was as remarkable for his learning and taste, as for his other eminent qualities; and no man was more prompt, active, and generous, in encouraging merit. i have heard johnson gratefully acknowledge, in his presence, the kind and effectual support which he gave to his _london_, though unacquainted with its authour. [page : pope admires _london_. a.d. .] pope, who then filled the poetical throne without a rival, it may reasonably be presumed, must have been particularly struck by the sudden appearance of such a poet; and, to his credit, let it be remembered, that his feelings and conduct on the occasion were candid and liberal. he requested mr. richardson, son of the painter[ ], to endeavour to find out who this new authour was. mr. richardson, after some inquiry, having informed him that he had discovered only that his name was johnson, and that he was some obscure man, pope said, 'he will soon be _déterré_[ ].' we shall presently see, from a note written by pope, that he was himself afterwards more successful in his inquiries than his friend. [page : johnson a 'true-born englishman.' Ætat .] that in this justly-celebrated poem may be found a few rhymes[ ] which the critical precision of english prosody at this day would disallow, cannot be denied; but with this small imperfection, which in the general blaze of its excellence is not perceived, till the mind has subsided into cool attention, it is, undoubtedly, one of the noblest productions in our language, both for sentiment and expression. the nation was then in that ferment against the court and the ministry, which some years after ended in the downfall of sir robert walpole; and as it has been said, that tories are whigs when out of place, and whigs, tories when in place; so, as a whig administration ruled with what force it could, a tory opposition had all the animation and all the eloquence of resistance to power, aided by the common topicks of patriotism, liberty, and independence! accordingly, we find in johnson's _london_ the most spirited invectives against tyranny and oppression, the warmest predilection for his own country, and the purest love of virtue; interspersed with traits of his own particular character and situation, not omitting his prejudices as a 'true-born englishman[ ],' not only against foreign countries, but against ireland and scotland[ ]. on some of these topicks i shall quote a few passages: [page : passages from london. a.d. .] 'the cheated nation's happy fav'rites see; mark whom the great caress, who frown on me.' 'has heaven reserv'd in pity to the poor, no pathless waste, or undiscover'd shore? no secret island in the boundless main? no peaceful desert yet unclaim'd by spain? quick let us rise, the happy seats explore, and bear oppression's insolence no more[ ].' 'how, when competitors like these contend, can _surly virtue_ hope to fix a friend?' 'this mournful truth is every where confess'd, slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd[ ]!' we may easily conceive with what feeling a great mind like his, cramped and galled by narrow circumstances, uttered this last line, which he marked by capitals. the whole of the poem is eminently excellent, and there are in it such proofs of a knowledge of the world, and of a mature acquaintance with life, as cannot be contemplated without wonder, when we consider that he was then only in his twenty-ninth year, and had yet been so little in the 'busy haunts of men[ ].' [page : sir robert walpole. Ætat .] yet, while we admire the poetical excellence of this poem, candour obliges us to allow, that the flame of patriotism and zeal for popular resistance with which it is fraught, had no just cause. there was, in truth, no 'oppression;' the 'nation' was not 'cheated.' sir robert walpole was a wise and a benevolent minister, who thought that the happiness and prosperity of a commercial country like ours, would be best promoted by peace, which he accordingly maintained, with credit, during a very long period. johnson himself afterwards honestly acknowledged the merit of walpole, whom he called 'a fixed star;' while he characterised his opponent, pitt, as 'a meteor[ ].' but johnson's juvenile poem was naturally impregnated with the fire of opposition, and upon every account was universally admired. [page : appleby school. a.d. .] though thus elevated into fame, and conscious of uncommon powers, he had not that bustling confidence, or, i may rather say, that animated ambition, which one might have supposed would have urged him to endeavour at rising in life. but such was his inflexible dignity of character, that he could not stoop to court the great; without which, hardly any man has made his way to a high station[ ]. he could not expect to produce many such works as his _london_, and he felt the hardships of writing for bread; he was, therefore, willing to resume the office of a schoolmaster, so as to have a sure, though moderate income for his life; and an offer being made to him of the mastership of a school[ ], provided he could obtain the degree of master of arts, dr. adams was applied to, by a common friend, to know whether that could be granted him as a favour from the university of oxford. but though he had made such a figure in the literary world, it was then thought too great a favour to be asked. hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'johnson went to appleby in aug. , and offered himself as a candidate for the mastership.' the date of seems to be hawkins's inference. if johnson went at all, it was in . pope, the friend of swift, would not of course have sought lord gower's influence with swift. he applied to his lordship, no doubt, as a great midland-county landowner, likely to have influence with the trustees. why, when the difficulty about the degree of m.a. was discovered, pope was not asked to solicit swift cannot be known. see _post_, beginning of in boswell's account of the _life of swift_.] [page : pope's letter of recommendation.] pope, without any knowledge of him but from his _london_, recommended him to earl gower, who endeavoured to procure for him a degree from dublin, by the following letter to a friend of dean swift: 'sir, 'mr. samuel johnson (authour of _london_, a satire, and some other poetical pieces) is a native of this country, and much respected by some worthy gentlemen in his neighbourhood, who are trustees of a charity school now vacant; the certain salary is sixty pounds a year, of which they are desirous to make him master; but, unfortunately, he is not capable of receiving their bounty, which _would make him happy for life_, by not being a _master of arts_; which, by the statutes of this school, the master of it must be. 'now these gentlemen do me the honour to think that i have interest enough in you, to prevail upon you to write to dean swift, to persuade the university of dublin to send a diploma to me, constituting this poor man master of arts in their university. they highly extol the man's learning and probity; and will not be persuaded, that the university will make any difficulty of conferring such a favour upon a stranger, if he is recommended by the dean. they say he is not afraid of the strictest examination, though he is of so long a journey; and will venture it, if the dean thinks it necessary; choosing rather to die upon the road, _than be starved to death in translating for booksellers_; which has been his only subsistence for some time past. 'i fear there is more difficulty in this affair, than those good-natured gentlemen apprehend; especially as their election cannot be delayed longer than the th of next month. if you see this matter in the same light that it appears to me, i hope you will burn this, and pardon me for giving you so much trouble about an impracticable thing; but, if you think there is a probability of obtaining the favour asked, i am sure your humanity, and propensity to relieve merit in distress, will incline you to serve the poor man, without my adding any more to the trouble i have already given you, than assuring you that i am, with great truth, sir, 'your faithful servant, 'gower. 'trentham, aug. , .' [page : johnson's wish to practise law. a.d. .] it was, perhaps, no small disappointment to johnson that this respectable application had not the desired effect; yet how much reason has there been, both for himself and his country, to rejoice that it did not succeed, as he might probably have wasted in obscurity those hours in which he afterwards produced his incomparable works. about this time he made one other effort to emancipate himself from the drudgery of authourship. he applied to dr. adams, to consult dr. smalbroke of the commons, whether a person might be permitted to practice as an advocate there, without a doctor's degree in civil law. 'i am (said he) a total stranger to these studies; but whatever is a profession, and maintains numbers, must be within the reach of common abilities, and some degree of industry.' dr. adams was much pleased with johnson's design to employ his talents in that manner, being confident he would have attained to great eminence. and, indeed, i cannot conceive a man better qualified to make a distinguished figure as a lawyer; for, he would have brought to his profession a rich store of various knowledge, an uncommon acuteness, and a command of language, in which few could have equalled, and none have surpassed him[ ]. he who could display eloquence and wit in defence of the decision of the house of commons upon mr. wilkes's election for middlesex[ ], and of the unconstitutional taxation of our fellow-subjects in america[ ], must have been a powerful advocate in any cause. but here, also, the want of a degree was an insurmountable bar. [page : paul sarpi's history. Ætat .] he was, therefore, under the necessity of persevering in that course, into which he had been forced; and we find, that his proposal from greenwich to mr. cave, for a translation of father paul sarpi's history, was accepted[ ]. some sheets of this translation were printed off, but the design was dropt; for it happened, oddly enough, that another person of the name of samuel johnson, librarian of st. martin's in the fields, and curate of that parish, engaged in the same undertaking, and was patronised by the clergy, particularly by dr. pearce, afterwards bishop of rochester. several light skirmishes passed between the rival translators, in the newspapers of the day; and the consequence was, that they destroyed each other, for neither of them went on with the work. it is much to be regretted, that the able performance of that celebrated genius fra paolo, lost the advantage of being incorporated into british literature by the masterly hand of johnson. [page : mr. cave's insinuation. a.d. .] i have in my possession, by the favour of mr. john nichols, a paper in johnson's hand-writing, entitled 'account between mr. edward cave and sam. johnson, in relation to a version of father paul, &c. begun august the d, ; 'by which it appears, that from that day to the st of april, , johnson received for this work, £ _s_. in sums of one, two, three, and sometimes four guineas at a time, most frequently two. and it is curious to observe the minute and scrupulous accuracy with which johnson has pasted upon it a slip of paper, which he has entitled small account,' and which contains one article, 'sept. th, mr. cave laid down s. d.' there is subjoined to this account, a list of some subscribers to the work, partly in johnson's handwriting, partly in that of another person; and there follows a leaf or two on which are written a number of characters which have the appearance of a short hand, which, perhaps, johnson was then trying to learn. 'to mr. cave. 'wednesday. 'sir, 'i did not care to detain your servant while i wrote an answer to your letter, in which you seem to insinuate that i had promised more than i am ready to perform. if i have raised your expectations by any thing that may have escaped my memory, i am sorry; and if you remind me of it, shall thank you for the favour. if i made fewer alterations than usual in the debates, it was only because there appeared, and still appears to be, less need of alteration. the verses to lady firebrace[ ] may be had when you please, for you know that such a subject neither deserves much thought, nor requires it. 'the chinese stories[ ] may be had folded down when you please to send, in which i do not recollect that you desired any alterations to be made. 'an answer to another query i am very willing to write, and had consulted with you about it last night if there had been time; for i think it the most proper way of inviting such a correspondence as may be an advantage to the paper, not a load upon it. 'as to the prize verses, a backwardness to determine their degrees of merit is not peculiar to me. you may, if you please, still have what i can say; but i shall engage with little spirit in an affair, which i shall _hardly_ end to my own satisfaction, and _certainly_ not to the satisfaction of the parties concerned[ ]. 'as to father paul, i have not yet been just to my proposal, but have met with impediments, which, i hope, are now at an end; and if you find the progress hereafter not such as you have a right to expect, you can easily stimulate a negligent translator. 'if any or all of these have contributed to your discontent, i will endeavour to remove it; and desire you to propose the question to which you wish for an answer. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' [page : impransus. Ætat .] 'to mr. cave. [no date.] 'sir, 'i am pretty much of your opinion, that the commentary cannot be prosecuted with any appearance of success; for as the names of the authours concerned are of more weight in the performance than its own intrinsick merit, the publick will be soon satisfied with it. and i think the examen should be pushed forward with the utmost expedition. thus, "this day, &c., an examen of mr. pope's essay, &c., containing a succinct account of the philosophy of mr. leibnitz on the system of the fatalists, with a confutation of their opinions, and an illustration of the doctrine of free-will;" [with what else you think proper.] 'it will, above all, be necessary to take notice, that it is a thing distinct from the commentary. 'i was so far from imagining they stood still[ ], that i conceived them to have a good deal before-hand, and therefore was less anxious in providing them more. but if ever they stand still on my account, it must doubtless be charged to me; and whatever else shall be reasonable, i shall not oppose; but beg a suspense of judgment till morning, when i must entreat you to send me a dozen proposals, and you shall then have copy to spare. 'i am, sir, 'your's, _impransus_[ ], 'sam. johnson. 'pray muster up the proposals if you can, or let the boy recall them from the booksellers.' [page : mr. macbean. a.d. .] but although he corresponded with mr. cave concerning a translation of crousaz's _examen_ of pope's _essay on man_, and gave advice as one anxious for its success, i was long ago convinced by a perusal of the preface, that this translation was erroneously ascribed to him; and i have found this point ascertained, beyond all doubt, by the following article in dr. birch's _manuscripts in the british museum_: 'elisÆ carterÆ. s. p. d. thomas birch. 'versionem tuam examinis crousasiani jam perlegi. summam styli et elegantiam, et in re difficillimâ proprietatem, admiratus. '_dabam novemb_. ° [ ].' indeed mrs. carter has lately acknowledged to mr. seward, that she was the translator of the _examen_. it is remarkable, that johnson's last quoted letter to mr. cave concludes with a fair confession that he had not a dinner; and it is no less remarkable, that, though in this state of want himself, his benevolent heart was not insensible to the necessities of an humble labourer in literature, as appears from the very next letter: 'to mr. cave. [no date.] 'dear sir, 'you may remember i have formerly talked with you about a military dictionary. the eldest mr. macbean[ ], who was with mr. chambers[ ], has very good materials for such a work, which i have seen, and will do it at a very low rate[ ]. i think the terms of war and navigation might be comprised, with good explanations, in one vo. pica, which he is willing to do for twelve shillings a sheet, to be made up a guinea at the second impression. if you think on it, i will wait on you with him. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson. 'pray lend me topsel on animals[ ].' [page : boethius de consolatione. Ætat .] i must not omit to mention, that this mr. macbean was a native of scotland. in the _gentleman's magazine_ of this year, johnson gave a life of father paul; and he wrote the preface to the volume[ ], [dagger] which, though prefixed to it when bound, is always published with the appendix, and is therefore the last composition belonging to it. the ability and nice adaptation with which he could draw up a prefatory address, was one of his peculiar excellencies. it appears too, that he paid a friendly attention to mrs. elizabeth carter; for in a letter from mr. cave to dr. birch, november , this year, i find 'mr. johnson advises miss c. to undertake a translation of _boethius de cons_, because there is prose and verse, and to put her name to it when published.' this advice was not followed; probably from an apprehension that the work was not sufficiently popular for an extensive sale. how well johnson himself could have executed a translation of this philosophical poet, we may judge from the following specimen which he has given in the _rambler_: (_motto to no. _.) 'o qui perpetuâ mundum ratione gubernas, terrarum cælique sator! disjice terrenæ nebulas et pondera molis, atque tuo splendore mica! tu namque serenum, tu requies tranquilla piis. te cernere finis, principium, vector, dux, semita, terminus, idem.' 'o thou whose power o'er moving worlds presides, whose voice created, and whose wisdom guides, on darkling man in pure effulgence shine, and cheer the clouded mind with light divine. 'tis thine alone to calm the pious breast, with silent confidence and holy rest; from thee, great god! we spring, to thee we tend, path, motive, guide, original, and end!' [page : abridgments. a.d. .] [page : marmor norfolciensc. Ætat .] in , beside the assistance which he gave to the parliamentary debates, his writings in the _gentleman's magazine_[ ] were, 'the life of boerhaave,'[*] in which it is to be observed, that he discovers that love of chymistry[ ] which never forsook him; 'an appeal to the publick in behalf of the editor;'[dagger] 'an address to the reader;'[dagger] 'an epigram both in greek and latin to eliza[ ],'[*] and also english verses to her[ ];[*] and, 'a greek epigram to dr. birch[ ].'[*] it has been erroneously supposed, that an essay published in that magazine this year, entitled 'the apotheosis of milton,' was written by johnson; and on that supposition it has been improperly inserted in the edition of his works by the booksellers, after his decease. were there no positive testimony as to this point, the style of the performance, and the name of shakspeare not being mentioned in an essay professedly reviewing the principal english poets, would ascertain it not to be the production of johnson. but there is here no occasion to resort to internal evidence; for my lord bishop of salisbury (dr. douglas) has assured me, that it was written by guthrie. his separate publications were[ ], 'a complete vindication of the licensers of the stage, from the malicious and scandalous aspersions of mr. brooke, authour of gustavus vasa,'[*] being an ironical attack upon them for their suppression of that tragedy[ ]; and, 'marmor norfolciense; or an essay on an ancient prophetical inscription in monkish rhyme, lately discovered near lynne in norfolk, by probus britannicus.'[*] in this performance, he, in a feigned inscription, supposed to have been found in norfolk, the county of sir robert walpole, then the obnoxious prime minister of this country, inveighs against the brunswick succession, and the measures of government consequent upon it[ ]. to this supposed prophecy he added a commentary, making each expression apply to the times, with warm anti-hanoverian zeal. this anonymous pamphlet, i believe, did not make so much noise as was expected, and, therefore, had not a very extensive circulation[ ]. sir john hawkins relates[ ], that, 'warrants were issued, and messengers employed to apprehend the authour; who, though he had forborne to subscribe his name to the pamphlet, the vigilance of those in pursuit of him had discovered;' and we are informed, that he lay concealed in lambeth-marsh till the scent after him grew cold. this, however, is altogether without foundation; for mr. steele, one of the secretaries of the treasury, who amidst a variety of important business, politely obliged me with his attention to my inquiry, informed me, that 'he directed every possible search to be made in the records of the treasury and secretary of state's office, but could find no trace whatever of any warrant having been issued to apprehend the authour of this pamphlet.' [page : reprint of marmor norfolciensc. a.d. .] _marmor norfolciense_ became exceedingly scarce, so that i, for many years, endeavoured in vain to procure a copy of it. at last i was indebted to the malice of one of johnson's numerous petty adversaries, who, in , published a new edition of it, 'with notes and a dedication to samuel johnson, ll.d. by tribunus;' in which some puny scribbler invidiously attempted to found upon it a charge of inconsistency against its authour, because he had accepted of a pension from his present majesty, and had written in support of the measures of government. as a mortification to such impotent malice, of which there are so many instances towards men of eminence, i am happy to relate, that this _telum imbelle_[ ] did not reach its exalted object, till about a year after it thus appeared, when i mentioned it to him, supposing that he knew of the re-publication. to my surprize, he had not yet heard of it. he requested me to go directly and get it for him, which i did. he looked at it and laughed, and seemed to be much diverted with the feeble efforts of his unknown adversary, who, i hope, is alive to read this account. 'now (said he) here is somebody who thinks he has vexed me sadly; yet, if it had not been for you, you rogue, i should probably never have seen it.' [page : 'paper-sparing pope.' Ætat .] as mr. pope's note concerning johnson, alluded to in a former page, refers both to his _london_, and his _marmor norfolciense_, i have deferred inserting it till now. i am indebted for it to dr. percy, the bishop of dromore, who permitted me to copy it from the original in his possession. it was presented to his lordship by sir joshua reynolds, to whom it was given by the son of mr. richardson the painter, the person to whom it is addressed. i have transcribed it with minute exactness, that the peculiar mode of writing, and imperfect spelling of that celebrated poet, may be exhibited to the curious in literature. it justifies swift's epithet of 'paper-sparing pope[ ]' for it is written on a slip no larger than a common message-card, and was sent to mr. richardson, along with the _imitation of juvenal_. 'this is imitated by one johnson who put in for a publick-school in shropshire,[ ] but was disappointed. he has an infirmity of the convulsive kind, that attacks him sometimes, so as to make him a sad spectacle. mr. p. from the merit of this work which was all the knowledge he had of him endeavour'd to serve him without his own application; & wrote to my ld gore, but he did not succeed. mr. johnson published afterwds another poem in latin with notes the whole very humerous call'd the norfolk prophecy.[ ]' 'p.' johnson had been told of this note; and sir joshua reynolds informed him of the compliment which it contained, but, from delicacy, avoided shewing him the paper itself. when sir joshua observed to johnson that he seemed very desirous to see pope's note, he answered, 'who would not be proud to have such a man as pope so solicitous in inquiring about him?' [page : johnson's tricks of body. a.d. .] the infirmity to which mr. pope alludes, appeared to me also, as i have elsewhere[ ] observed, to be of the convulsive kind, and of the nature of that distemper called st. vitus's dance; and in this opinion i am confirmed by the description which sydenham gives of that disease. 'this disorder is a kind of convulsion. it manifests itself by halting or unsteadiness of one of the legs, which the patient draws after him like an ideot. if the hand of the same side be applied to the breast, or any other part of the body, he cannot keep it a moment in the same posture, but it will be drawn into a different one by a convulsion, notwithstanding all his efforts to the contrary.' sir joshua reynolds, however, was of a different opinion, and favoured me with the following paper. [page : his dread of solitude. Ætat .] 'those motions or tricks of dr. johnson are improper'y called convulsions[ ]. he could sit motionless, when he was told so to do, as well as any other man; my opinion is that it proceeded from a habit which he had indulged himself in, of accompanying his thoughts with certain untoward actions, and those actions always appeared to me as if they were meant to reprobate some part of his past conduct. whenever he was not engaged in conversation, such thoughts were sure to rush into his mind; and, for this reason, any company, any employment whatever, he preferred to being alone[ ]. the great business of his life (he said) was to escape from himself; this disposition he considered as the disease of his mind, which nothing cured but company. 'one instance of his absence and particularity, as it is characteristick of the man, may be worth relating. when he and i took a journey together into the west, we visited the late mr. banks, of dorsetshire; the conversation turning upon pictures, which johnson could not well see, he retired to a corner of the room, stretching out his right leg as far as he could reach before him, then bringing up his left leg, and stretching his right still further on. the old gentleman observing him, went up to him, and in a very courteous manner assured him, that though it was not a new house, the flooring was perfectly safe. the doctor started from his reverie, like a person waked out of his sleep, but spoke not a word.' while we are on this subject, my readers may not be displeased with another anecdote, communicated to me by the same friend, from the relation of mr. hogarth. [page : hogarth meets johnson. a.d. .] [page : george the second's cruelty. Ætat .] johnson used to be a pretty frequent visitor at the house of mr. richardson, authour of _clarissa_, and other novels of extensive reputation. mr. hogarth came one day to see richardson, soon after the execution of dr. cameron, for having taken arms for the house of stuart in - ; and being a warm partisan of george the second, he observed to richardson[ ], that certainly there must have been some very unfavourable circumstances lately discovered in this particular case, which had induced the king to approve of an execution for rebellion so long after the time when it was committed, as this had the appearance of putting a man to death in cold blood[ ], and was very unlike his majesty's usual clemency. while he was talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strange ridiculous manner. he concluded that he was an ideot, whom his relations had put under the care of mr. richardson, as a very good man. to his great surprize, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and mr. richardson were sitting, and all at once took up the argument, and burst out into an invective against george the second, as one, who, upon all occasions, was unrelenting and barbarous[ ]; mentioning many instances, particularly, that when an officer of high rank had been acquitted by a court martial, george the second had with his own hand, struck his name off the list. in short, he displayed such a power of eloquence, that hogarth looked at him with astonishment, and actually imagined that this ideot had been at the moment inspired. neither hogarth nor johnson were made known to each other at this interview[ ]. [ [ ]: Ætat. .]--in he wrote for the _gentleman's magazine_ the 'preface[ ],'[dagger] 'life of sir francis drake,'[*] and the first parts of those of 'admiral blake[ ],'[*] and of 'philip baretier[ ],' both which he finished the following year. he also wrote an 'essay on epitaphs[ ],' and an 'epitaph on philips, a musician,'[ ] which was afterwards published with some other pieces of his, in mrs. williams's _miscellanies_. this epitaph is so exquisitely beautiful, that i remember even lord kames, strangely prejudiced as he was against dr. johnson, was compelled to allow it very high praise. it has been ascribed to mr. garrick, from its appearing at first with the signature g; but i have heard mr. garrick declare, that it was written by dr. johnson, and give the following account of the manner in which it was composed. johnson and he were sitting together; when, amongst other things, garrick repeated an epitaph upon this philips by a dr. wilkes, in these words: [page : epitaph on philips. a.d. .] 'exalted soul! whose harmony could please the love-sick virgin, and the gouty ease; could jarring discord, like amphion, move to beauteous order and harmonious love; rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, and meet thy blessed saviour in the skies.' johnson shook his head at these common-place funereal lines, and said to garrick, 'i think, davy, i can make a better.' then, stirring about his tea for a little while, in a state of meditation, he almost extempore produced the following verses: [page : epigram on cibber. Ætat .] 'philips, whose touch harmonious could remove the pangs of guilty power or[ ] hapless love; rest here, distress'd by poverty no more, here find that calm thou gav'st so oft before; sleep, undisturb'd, within this peaceful shrine, till angels wake thee with a note like thine[ ]!' at the same time that mr. garrick favoured me with this anecdote, he repeated a very pointed epigram by johnson, on george the second and colley cibber, which has never yet appeared, and of which i know not the exact date[ ]. dr. johnson afterwards gave it to me himself[ ]: 'augustus still survives in maro's strain, and spenser's verse prolongs eliza's reign; great george's acts let tuneful cibber sing; for nature form'd the poet for the king.' [page : one of cromwell's speeches. a.d. .] in [ ][*] he wrote for the _gentleman's magazine_ 'the preface,'[*] 'conclusion of his lives of drake and baretier,'[dagger] 'a free translation of the jests of hierocles[ ], with an introduction;'[dagger] and, i think, the following pieces: 'debate on the proposal of parliament to cromwell, to assume the title of king, abridged, modified, and digested[ ];'[dagger] 'translation of abbé guyon's dissertation on the amazons;'[dagger] 'translation of fontenelle's panegyrick on dr. morin.'[dagger] two notes upon this appear to me undoubtedly his. he this year, and the two following, wrote the _parliamentary debates_. he told me himself, that he was the sole composer of them for those three years only. he was not, however, precisely exact in his statement, which he mentioned from hasty recollection; for it is sufficiently evident, that his composition of them began november , , and ended february , - [ ]. it appears from some of cave's letters to dr. birch, that cave had better assistance for that branch of his magazine, than has been generally supposed; and that he was indefatigable in getting it made as perfect as he could. [page : cave's parliamentary debates. Ætat .] thus, st july, . 'i trouble you with the inclosed, because you said you could easily correct what is here given for lord c----ld's[ ] speech. i beg you will do so as soon as you can for me, because the month is far advanced.' and th july, . 'as you remember the debates so far as to perceive the speeches already printed are not exact, i beg the favour that you will peruse the inclosed, and, in the best manner your memory will serve, correct the mistaken passages, or add any thing that is omitted. i should be very glad to have something of the duke of n--le's[ ] speech, which would be particularly of service. 'a gentleman has lord bathurst's speech to add something to.' and july , . 'you will see what stupid, low, abominable stuff is put[ ] upon your noble and learned friend's[ ] character, such as i should quite reject, and endeavour to do something better towards doing justice to the character. but as i cannot expect to attain my desires in that respect, it would be a great satisfaction, as well as an honour to our work to have the favour of the genuine speech. it is a method that several have been pleased to take, as i could show, but i think myself under a restraint. i shall say so far, that i have had some by a third hand, which i understood well enough to come from the first; others by penny-post[ ], and others by the speakers themselves, who have been pleased to visit st. john's gate, and show particular marks of their being pleased[ ].' [page : johnson's parliamentary debates. a.d. .] there is no reason, i believe, to doubt the veracity of cave. it is, however, remarkable, that none of these letters are in the years during which johnson alone furnished the debates, and one of them is in the very year after he ceased from that labour. johnson told me that as soon as he found that the speeches were thought genuine, he determined that he would write no more of them; for 'he would not be accessary to the propagation of falsehood.' and such was the tenderness of his conscience, that a short time before his death he expressed his regret for his having been the authour of fictions, which had passed for realities[ ]. he nevertheless agreed with me in thinking, that the debates which he had framed were to be valued as orations upon questions of publick importance. they have accordingly been collected in volumes, properly arranged, and recommended to the notice of parliamentary speakers by a preface, written by no inferior hand[ ]. i must, however, observe, that although there is in those debates a wonderful store of political information, and very powerful eloquence, i cannot agree that they exhibit the manner of each particular speaker, as sir john hawkins seems to think. but, indeed, what opinion can we have of his judgement, and taste in publick speaking, who presumes to give, as the characteristicks of two celebrated orators, 'the deep-mouthed rancour of pulteney[ ], and the yelping pertinacity of pitt[ ].' this year i find that his tragedy of _irene_ had been for some time ready for the stage, and that his necessities made him desirous of getting as much as he could for it, without delay; for there is the following letter from mr. cave to dr. birch, in the same volume of manuscripts in the british museum, from which i copied those above quoted. they were most obligingly pointed out to me by sir william musgrave, one of the curators of that noble repository. [page : bibliotheca harleiana. Ætat .] 'sept. , . 'i have put mr. johnson's play into mr. gray's[ ] hands, in order to sell it to him, if he is inclined to buy it; but i doubt whether he will or not. he would dispose of the copy, and whatever advantage may be made by acting it. would your society[ ], or any gentleman, or body of men that you know, take such a bargain? he and i are very unfit to deal with theatrical persons. fleetwood was to have acted it last season, but johnson's diffidence or ----[ ] prevented it.' i have already mentioned that _irene_ was not brought into publick notice till garrick was manager of drury-lane theatre. [page : osborne the bookseller. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in [ ] he wrote for the _gentleman's magazine_ the 'preface,[dagger] the 'parliamentary debates,'[*] 'essay on the account of the conduct of the duchess of marlborough,'[*] then the popular topick of conversation. this 'essay' is a short but masterly performance. we find him in no. of his _rambler_, censuring a profligate sentiment in that 'account[ ];' and again insisting upon it strenuously in conversation[ ]. 'an account of the life of peter burman,'[*] i believe chiefly taken from a foreign publication; as, indeed, he could not himself know much about burman; 'additions to his life of baretier;'[*] 'the life of sydenham,'[*] afterwards prefixed to dr. swan's edition of his works; 'proposals for printing bibliotheca harleiana, or a catalogue of the library of the earl of oxford[ ].'[*] his account of that celebrated collection of books, in which he displays the importance to literature of what the french call a _catalogue raisonné_, when the subjects of it are extensive and various, and it is executed with ability, cannot fail to impress all his readers with admiration of his philological attainments. it was afterwards prefixed to the first volume of the catalogue, in which the latin accounts of books were written by him. he was employed in this business by mr. thomas osborne the bookseller, who purchased the library for , £., a sum which mr. oldys[ ] says, in one of his manuscripts, was not more than the binding of the books had cost; yet, as dr. johnson assured me, the slowness of the sale was such, that there was not much gained by it. it has been confidently related, with many embellishments, that johnson one day knocked osborne down in his shop, with a folio, and put his foot upon his neck. the simple truth i had from johnson himself. 'sir, he was impertinent to me, and i beat him. but it was not in his shop: it was in my own chamber[ ].' [page : a projected parliamentary history. Ætat .] a very diligent observer may trace him where we should not easily suppose him to be found. i have no doubt that he wrote the little abridgement entitled 'foreign history,' in the _magazine_ for december. to prove it, i shall quote the introduction. 'as this is that season of the year in which nature may be said to command a suspension of hostilities, and which seems intended, by putting a short stop to violence and slaughter, to afford time for malice to relent, and animosity to subside; we can scarce expect any other accounts than of plans, negotiations and treaties, of proposals for peace, and preparations for war.' as also this passage: 'let those who despise the capacity of the swiss, tell us by what wonderful policy, or by what happy conciliation of interests, it is brought to pass, that in a body made up of different communities and different religions, there should be no civil commotions[ ], though the people are so warlike, that to nominate and raise an army is the same.' i am obliged to mr. astle[ ] for his ready permission to copy the two following letters, of which the originals are in his possession. their contents shew that they were written about this time, and that johnson was now engaged in preparing an historical account of the british parliament. 'to mr. cave. [_no date_] 'sir, 'i believe i am going to write a long letter, and have therefore taken a whole sheet of paper. the first thing to be written about is our historical design. 'you mentioned the proposal of printing in numbers, as an alteration in the scheme, but i believe you mistook, some way or other, my meaning; i had no other view than that you might rather print too many of five sheets, than of five and thirty. 'with regard to what i shall say on the manner of proceeding, i would have it understood as wholly indifferent to me, and my opinion only, not my resolution. _emptoris sit eligere_. 'i think the insertion of the exact dates of the most important events in the margin, or of so many events as may enable the reader to regulate the order of facts with sufficient exactness, the proper medium between a journal, which has regard only to time, and a history which ranges facts according to their dependence on each other, and postpones or anticipates according to the convenience of narration. i think the work ought to partake of the spirit of history, which is contrary to minute exactness, and of the regularity of a journal, which is inconsistent with spirit. for this reason, i neither admit numbers or dates, nor reject them. [page : payment for work. a.d. .] 'i am of your opinion with regard to placing most of the resolutions &c., in the margin, and think we shall give the most complete account of parliamentary proceedings that can be contrived. the naked papers, without an historical treatise interwoven, require some other book to make them understood. i will date the succeeding facts with some exactness, but i think in the margin. you told me on saturday that i had received money on this work, and found set down £. s. d., reckoning the half guinea of last saturday. as you hinted to me that you had many calls for money, i would not press you too hard, and therefore shall desire only, as i send it in, two guineas for a sheet of copy; the rest you may pay me when it may be more convenient; and even by this sheet-payment i shall, for some time, be very expensive. 'the _life of savage_[ ] i am ready to go upon; and in great primer, and pica notes, i reckon on sending in half a sheet a day; but the money for that shall likewise lye by in your hands till it is done. with the debates, shall not i have business enough? if i had but good pens. 'towards mr. savage's _life_ what more have you got? i would willingly have his trial, &c., and know whether his defence be at bristol, and would have his collection of poems, on account of the preface.--_the plain dealer_[ ],--all the magazines that have anything of his, or relating to him. 'i thought my letter would be long, but it is now ended; and i am, sir, 'yours, &c. sam. johnson.' 'the boy found me writing this almost in the dark, when i could not quite easily read yours. 'i have read the italian--nothing in it is well. 'i had no notion of having any thing for the inscription[ ]. i hope you don't think i kept it to extort a price. i could think of nothing, till to day. if you could spare me another guinea for the history, i should take it very kindly, to night; but if you do not i shall not think it an injury.--i am almost well again.' 'to mr. cave. 'sir, 'you did not tell me your determination about the 'soldier's letter[ ],' which i am confident was never printed. i think it will not do by itself, or in any other place, so well as the _mag. extraordinary_[ ]. if you will have it at all, i believe you do not think i set it high, and i will be glad if what you give, you will give quickly. [page : _ad lauram pariluram epigramma_. Ætat .] 'you need not be in care about something to print, for i have got the state trials, and shall extract layer, atterbury, and macclesfield from them, and shall bring them to you in a fortnight; after which i will try to get the south sea report.' [_no date, nor signature_] i would also ascribe to him an 'essay on the description of china, from the french of du halde[ ].[dagger] his writings in the _gentleman's magazine_ in , are, the 'preface[ ],'[dagger] the 'parliamentary debates,'[dagger] 'considerations on the dispute between crousaz[ ] and warburton, on pope's essay on man;'[dagger] in which, while he defends crousaz, he shews an admirable metaphysical acuteness and temperance in controversy[ ]; 'ad lauram parituram epigramma[ ];'[*] and, 'a latin translation of pope's verses on his grotto[ ];'[*] and, as he could employ his pen with equal success upon a small matter as a great, i suppose him to be the authour of an advertisement for osborne, concerning the great harlcian catalogue[ ]. [page : friendship, an ode. a.d. .] but i should think myself much wanting, both to my illustrious friend and my readers, did i not introduce here, with more than ordinary respect, an exquisitely beautiful ode, which has not been inserted in any of the collections of johnson's poetry, written by him at a very early period, as mr. hector informs me, and inserted in the _gentleman's magazine_ of this year. friendship, _an_ ode.[*] 'friendship, peculiar boon of heav'n, the noble mind's delight and pride, to men and angels only giv'n, to all the lower world deny'd. while love, unknown among the blest, parent of thousand wild desires, the savage and the human breast torments alike with raging fires; with bright, but oft destructive, gleam, alike o'er all his lightnings fly; thy lambent glories only beam around the fav'rites of the sky. thy gentle flows of guiltless joys on fools and villains ne'er descend; in vain for thee the tyrant sighs, and hugs a flatterer for a friend. directress of the brave and just, o guide us through life's darksome way! and let the tortures of mistrust on selfish bosoms only prey. nor shall thine ardours cease to glow, when souls to blissful climes remove; what rais'd our virtue here below, shall aid our happiness above.' [page : dr. james and dr. mead. Ætat .] johnson had now an opportunity of obliging his schoolfellow dr. james, of whom he once observed, 'no man brings more mind to his profession.[ ]' james published this year his _medicinal dictionary_, in three volumes folio. johnson, as i understood from him, had written, or assisted in writing, the proposals for this work; and being very fond of the study of physick, in which james was his master, he furnished some of the articles[ ]. he, however, certainly wrote for it the dedication to dr. mead,[dagger] which is conceived with great address, to conciliate the patronage of that very eminent man[ ]. [page : dr. birch. a.d. .] it has been circulated, i know not with what authenticity, that johnson considered dr. birch as a dull writer, and said of him, 'tom birch is as brisk as a bee in conversation; but no sooner does he take a pen in his hand, than it becomes a torpedo to him, and benumbs all his faculties[ ].' that the literature of this country is much indebted to birch's activity and diligence must certainly be acknowledged. we have seen that johnson honoured him with a greek epigram[ ]; and his correspondence with him, during many years, proves that he had no mean opinion of him. 'to dr. birch. 'thursday, sept. , . 'sir, 'i hope you will excuse me for troubling you on an occasion on which i know not whom else i can apply to; i am at a loss for the lives and characters of earl stanhope, the two craggs, and the minister sunderland; and beg that you will inform [me] where i may find them, and send any pamphlets, &c. relating to them to mr. cave, to be perused for a few days by, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' his circumstances were at this time much embarrassed; yet his affection for his mother was so warm, and so liberal, that he took upon himself a debt of her's, which, though small in itself, was then considerable to him. this appears from the following letter which he wrote to mr. levett, of lichfield, the original of which lies now before me. 'to mr. levett; in lichfield. 'december , . 'sir, 'i am extremely sorry that we have encroached so much upon your forbearance with respect to the interest, which a great perplexity of affairs hindered me from thinking of with that attention that i ought, and which i am not immediately able to remit to you, but will pay it (i think twelve pounds,) in two months. i look upon this, and on the future interest of that mortgage, as my own debt; and beg that you will be pleased to give me directions how to pay it, and not mention it to my dear mother. if it be necessary to pay this in less time, i believe i can do it; but i take two months for certainty, and beg an answer whether you can allow me so much time. i think myself very much obliged to your forbearance, and shall esteem it a great happiness to be able to serve you. i have great opportunities of dispersing any thing that you may think it proper to make publick[ ]. i will give a note for the money, payable at the time mentioned, to any one here that you shall appoint. i am, sir, 'your most obedient, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson. 'at mr. osborne's, bookseller, in gray's inn.' [page : the life of savage. Ætat .] [page : johnson's friendship with savage. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--it does not appear that he wrote any thing in for the _gentleman's magazine_, but the preface.[dagger] his _life of baretier_ was now re-published in a pamphlet by itself. but he produced one work this year, fully sufficient to maintain the high reputation which he had acquired. this was _the life of richard savage_;[*] a man, of whom it is difficult to speak impartially, without wondering that he was for some time the intimate companion of johnson[ ]; for his character was marked by profligacy, insolence, and ingratitude[ ]: yet, as he undoubtedly had a warm and vigorous, though unregulated mind, had seen life in all its varieties, and been much in the company of the statesmen and wits of his time[ ], he could communicate to johnson an abundant supply of such materials as his philosophical curiosity most eagerly desired; and as savage's misfortunes and misconduct had reduced him to the lowest state of wretchedness as a writer for bread[ ], his visits to st. john's gate naturally brought johnson and him together[ ]. [page : dining behind the screen. Ætat .] it is melancholy to reflect, that johnson and savage were sometimes in such extreme indigence[ ], that they could not pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets[ ]. yet in these almost incredible scenes of distress, we may suppose that savage mentioned many of the anecdotes with which johnson afterwards enriched the life of his unhappy companion, and those of other poets. [page : johnson in want of a lodging. a.d. .] he told sir joshua reynolds, that one night in particular, when savage and he walked round st. james's-square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their situation; but in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and 'resolved they would _stand by their country_[ ].' i am afraid, however, that by associating with savage, who was habituated to the dissipation and licentiousness of the town, johnson, though his good principles remained steady, did not entirely preserve that conduct, for which, in days of greater simplicity, he was remarked by his friend mr. hector; but was imperceptibly led into some indulgencies which occasioned much distress to his virtuous mind.[ ] that johnson was anxious that an authentick and favourable account of his extraordinary friend should first get possession of the publick attention, is evident from a letter which he wrote in the _gentleman's magazine_ for august of the year preceding its publication. 'mr. urban, 'as your collections show how often you have owed the ornaments of your poetical pages to the correspondence of the unfortunate and ingenious mr. savage, i doubt not but you have so much regard to his memory as to encourage any design that may have a tendency to the preservation of it from insults or calumnies; and therefore, with some degree of assurance, intreat you to inform the publick, that his life will speedily be published by a person who was favoured with his confidence, and received from himself an account of most of the transactions which he proposes to mention, to the time of his retirement to swansea in wales. 'from that period, to his death in the prison of bristol, the account will be continued from materials still less liable to objection; his own letters, and those of his friends, some of which will be inserted in the work, and abstracts of others subjoined in the margin. 'it may be reasonably imagined, that others may have the same design; but as it is not credible that they can obtain the same materials, it must be expected they will supply from invention the want of intelligence; and that under the title of "the life of savage," they will publish only a novel, filled with romantick adventures, and imaginary amours. you may therefore, perhaps, gratify the lovers of truth and wit, by giving me leave to inform them in your magazine, that my account will be published in vo. by mr. roberts, in warwick-lane[ ].' [_no signature_.] [page : reynolds reads the life of savage. Ætat .] in february, , it accordingly came forth from the shop of roberts, between whom and johnson i have not traced any connection, except the casual one of this publication[ ]. in johnson's _life of savage_, although it must be allowed that its moral is the reverse of--'_respicere exemplar vita morumque jubebo_[ ],' a very useful lesson is inculcated, to guard men of warm passions from a too free indulgence of them; and the various incidents are related in so clear and animated a manner, and illuminated throughout with so much philosophy, that it is one of the most interesting narratives in the english language. sir joshua reynolds told me, that upon his return from italy[ ] he met with it in devonshire, knowing nothing of its authour, and began to read it while he was standing with his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. it seized his attention so strongly, that, not being able to lay down the book till he had finished it, when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed. the rapidity with which this work was composed, is a wonderful circumstance. johnson has been heard to say, 'i wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the _life of savage_ at a sitting; but then i sat up all night[ ].' [page : resemblance of johnson to savage. a.d. .] he exhibits the genius of savage to the best advantage in the specimens of his poetry which he has selected, some of which are of uncommon merit. we, indeed, occasionally find such vigour and such point, as might make us suppose that the generous aid of johnson had been imparted to his friend. mr. thomas warton made this remark to me; and, in support of it, quoted from the poem entitled _the bastard_, a line, in which the fancied superiority of one 'stamped in nature's mint with extasy[ ],' is contrasted with a regular lawful descendant of some great and ancient family: 'no tenth transmitter of a foolish face[ ].' but the fact is, that this poem was published some years before johnson and savage were acquainted[ ]. [page : johnson's prejudice against players. Ætat .] it is remarkable, that in this biographical disquisition there appears a very strong symptom of johnson's prejudice against players[ ]; a prejudice which may be attributed to the following causes: first, the imperfection of his organs, which were so defective that he was not susceptible of the fine impressions which theatrical excellence produces upon the generality of mankind; secondly, the cold rejection of his tragedy; and, lastly, the brilliant success of garrick, who had been his pupil, who had come to london at the same time with him, not in a much more prosperous state than himself, and whose talents he undoubtedly rated low, compared with his own. his being outstripped by his pupil in the race of immediate fame, as well as of fortune, probably made him feel some indignation, as thinking that whatever might be garrick's merits in his art, the reward was too great when compared with what the most successful efforts of literary labour could attain. at all periods of his life johnson used to talk contemptuously of players[ ]; but in this work he speaks of them with peculiar acrimony; for which, perhaps, there was formerly too much reason from the licentious and dissolute manners of those engaged in that profession[ ]. it is but justice to add, that in our own time such a change has taken place, that there is no longer room for such an unfavourable distinction[ ]. [page : garrick's mistakes in emphasis. a.d. .] his schoolfellow and friend, dr. taylor, told me a pleasant anecdote of johnson's triumphing over his pupil david garrick. when that great actor had played some little time at goodman's fields, johnson and taylor went to see him perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with him and old giffard[ ]. johnson, who was ever depreciating stage-players, after censuring some mistakes in emphasis which garrick had committed in the course of that night's acting, said, 'the players, sir, have got a kind of rant, with which they run on, without any regard either to accent or emphasis[ ].' both garrick and giffard were offended at this sarcasm, and endeavoured to refute it; upon which johnson rejoined, 'well now, i'll give you something to speak, with which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how just my observation is. that shall be the criterion. let me hear you repeat the ninth commandment, "thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."' both tried at it, said dr. taylor, and both mistook the emphasis, which should be upon _not_ and _false witness_[ ]. johnson put them right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee. [page : a review in the champion. Ætat .] his _life of savage_ was no sooner published, than the following liberal praise was given to it, in _the champion_, a periodical paper: 'this pamphlet is, without flattery to its authour, as just and well written a piece as of its kind i ever saw; so that at the same time that it highly deserves, it certainly stands very little in need of this recommendation. as to the history of the unfortunate person, whose memoirs compose this work, it is certainly penned with equal accuracy and spirit, of which i am so much the better judge, as i know many of the facts mentioned to be strictly true, and very fairly related. besides, it is not only the story of mr. savage, but innumerable incidents relating to other persons, and other affairs, which renders this a very amusing, and, withal, a very instructive and valuable performance. the author's observations are short, significant, and just, as his narrative is remarkably smooth, and well disposed. his reflections open to all the recesses of the human heart; and, in a word, a more just or pleasant, a more engaging or a more improving treatise, on all the excellencies and defects of human nature, is scarce to be found in our own, or, perhaps, any other language[ ].' [page : parentage of richard savage. a.d. .] johnson's partiality for savage made him entertain no doubt of his story, however extraordinary and improbable. it never occurred to him to question his being the son of the countess of macclesfield, of whose unrelenting barbarity he so loudly complained, and the particulars of which are related in so strong and affecting a manner in johnson's life of him. johnson was certainly well warranted in publishing his narrative, however offensive it might be to the lady and her relations, because her alledged unnatural and cruel conduct to her son, and shameful avowal of guilt, were stated in a _life of savage_ now lying before me, which came out so early as , and no attempt had been made to confute it, or to punish the authour or printer as a libeller: but for the honour of human nature, we should be glad to find the shocking tale not true; and, from a respectable gentleman[ ] connected with the lady's family, i have received such information and remarks, as joined to my own inquiries, will, i think, render it at least somewhat doubtful, especially when we consider that it must have originated from the person himself who went by the name of richard savage. if the maxim _falsum in uno, falsum in omnibus_, were to be received without qualification, the credit of savage's narrative, as conveyed to us, would be annihilated; for it contains some assertions which, beyond a question, are not true[ ]. . in order to induce a belief that earl rivers, on account of a criminal connection with whom, lady macclesfield is said to have been divorced from her husband, by act of parliament[ ], had a peculiar anxiety about the child which she bore to him, it is alledged, that his lordship gave him his own name, and had it duly recorded in the register of st. andrew's, holborn[ ]. i have carefully inspected that register, but no such entry is to be found[ ]. [page : lady macclesfield's divorce. Ætat .] . it is stated, that 'lady macclesfield having lived for some time upon very uneasy terms with her husband, thought a publick confession of adultery the most obvious and expeditious method of obtaining her liberty[ ];' and johnson, assuming this to be true, stigmatises her with indignation, as 'the wretch who had, without scruple, proclaimed herself an adulteress[ ].' but i have perused the journals of both houses of parliament at the period of her divorce, and there find it authentically ascertained, that so far from voluntarily submitting to the ignominious charge of adultery, she made a strenuous defence by her counsel; the bill having been first moved th january, , in the house of lords, and proceeded on, (with various applications for time to bring up witnesses at a distance, &c.) at intervals, till the d of march, when it passed. it was brought to the commons, by a message from the lords, the th of march, proceeded on the th, th, th, th, and th, on which day, after a full examination of witnesses on both sides, and hearing of counsel, it was reported without amendments, passed, and carried to the lords. [page : lady macclesfield's alleged cruelty. a.d. .] that lady macclesfield was convicted of the crime of which she was accused, cannot be denied; but the question now is, whether the person calling himself richard savage was her son. it has been said[ ], that when earl rivers was dying, and anxious to provide for all his natural children, he was informed by lady macclesfield that her son by him was dead. whether, then, shall we believe that this was a malignant lie, invented by a mother to prevent her own child from receiving the bounty of his father, which was accordingly the consequence, if the person whose life johnson wrote, was her son; or shall we not rather believe that the person who then assumed the name of richard savage was an impostor, being in reality the son of the shoemaker, under whose wife's care[ ] lady macclesfield's child was placed; that after the death of the real richard savage, he attempted to personate him; and that the fraud being known to lady macclesfield, he was therefore repulsed by her with just resentment? there is a strong circumstance in support of the last supposition, though it has been mentioned as an aggravation of lady macclesfield's unnatural conduct, and that is, her having prevented him from obtaining the benefit of a legacy left to him by mrs. lloyd his god-mother. for if there was such a legacy left, his not being able to obtain payment of it, must be imputed to his consciousness that he was not the real person. the just inference should be, that by the death of lady macclesfield's child before its god-mother, the legacy became lapsed, and therefore that johnson's richard savage was an impostor. if he had a title to the legacy, he could not have found any difficulty in recovering it; for had the executors resisted his claim, the whole costs, as well as the legacy, must have been paid by them, if he had been the child to whom it was given[ ]. [page : lord tyrconnel. Ætat .] the talents of savage, and the mingled fire, rudeness, pride, meanness, and ferocity of his character[ ], concur in making it credible that he was fit to plan and carry on an ambitious and daring scheme of imposture, similar instances of which have not been wanting in higher spheres, in the history of different countries, and have had a considerable degree of success. yet, on the other hand, to the companion of johnson, (who through whatever medium he was conveyed into this world,--be it ever so doubtful 'to whom related, or by whom begot[ ],' was, unquestionably, a man of no common endowments,) we must allow the weight of general repute as to his _status_ or parentage, though illicit; and supposing him to be an impostor, it seems strange that lord tyrconnel, the nephew of lady macclesfield, should patronise him, and even admit him as a guest in his family[ ]. lastly, it must ever appear very suspicious, that three different accounts of the life of richard savage, one published in _the plain dealer_, in , another in , and another by the powerful pen of johnson, in , and all of them while lady macclesfield was alive, should, notwithstanding the severe attacks upon her[ ], have been suffered to pass without any publick and effectual contradiction. [page : lady macclesfield's latter career. a.d. .] i have thus endeavoured to sum up the evidence upon the case, as fairly as i can; and the result seems to be, that the world must vibrate in a state of uncertainty as to what was the truth. this digression, i trust, will not be censured, as it relates to a matter exceedingly curious, and very intimately connected with johnson, both as a man and an authour[ ]. [page : observations of shakespeare. Ætat .] he this year wrote the _preface to the harleian miscellany_[ ][*] the selection of the pamphlets of which it was composed was made by mr. oldys[ ], a man of eager curiosity and indefatigable diligence, who first exerted that spirit of inquiry into the literature of the old english writers, by which the works of our great dramatick poet have of late been so signally illustrated. in he published a pamphlet entitled _miscellaneous observations on the tragedy of macbeth, with remarks on sir t.h.'s (sir thomas hammer's) edition of shakspeare_.[*] to which he affixed, proposals for a new edition of that poet[ ]. as we do not trace any thing else published by him during the course of this year, we may conjecture that he was occupied entirely with that work. but the little encouragement which was given by the publick to his anonymous proposals for the execution of a task which warburton was known to have undertaken, probably damped his ardour. his pamphlet, however, was highly esteemed, and was fortunate enough to obtain the approbation even of the supercilious warburton himself, who, in the preface to his _shakspeare_ published two years afterwards, thus mentioned it: 'as to all those things which have been published under the titles of _essays, remarks, observations_, &c. on shakspeare, if you except some critical notes on _macbeth_, given as a specimen of a projected edition, and written, as appears, by a man of parts and genius, the rest are absolutely below a serious notice.' of this flattering distinction shewn to him by warburton, a very grateful remembrance was ever entertained by johnson, who said, 'he praised me at a time when praise was of value to me.' [page : the rebellion of . a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in it is probable that he was still employed upon his _shakspeare_, which perhaps he laid aside for a time, upon account of the high expectations which were formed of warburton's edition of that great poet[ ]. it is somewhat curious, that his literary career appears to have been almost totally suspended in the years and , those years which were marked by a civil war in great-britain, when a rash attempt was made to restore the house of stuart to the throne. that he had a tenderness for that unfortunate house, is well known; and some may fancifully imagine, that a sympathetick anxiety impeded the exertion of his intellectual powers: but i am inclined to think, that he was, during this time, sketching the outlines of his great philological work[ ]. [page : johnson not an ardent jacobite. Ætat .] none of his letters during those years are extant, so far as i can discover. this is much to be regretted. it might afford some entertainment to see how he then expressed himself to his private friends, concerning state affairs. dr. adams informs me, that 'at this time a favourite object which he had in contemplation was _the life of alfred_; in which, from the warmth with which he spoke about it, he would, i believe, had he been master of his own will, have engaged himself, rather than on any other subject.' [page : poems wrongly assigned to johnson. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in it is supposed that the _gentleman's magazine_ for may was enriched by him with five[ ] short poetical pieces, distinguished by three asterisks. the first is a translation, or rather a paraphrase, of a latin epitaph on sir thomas hanmer. whether the latin was his, or not, i have never heard, though i should think it probably was, if it be certain that he wrote the english[ ]; as to which my only cause of doubt is, that his slighting character of hanmer as an editor, in his _observations on macbeth_, is very different from that in the 'epitaph.' it may be said, that there is the same contrariety between the character in the _observations_, and that in his own preface to shakspeare[ ]; but a considerable time elapsed between the one publication and the other, whereas the _observations_ and the 'epitaph' came close together. the others are 'to miss----, on her giving the authour a gold and silk net-work purse of her own weaving;' 'stella in mourning;' 'the winter's walk;' 'an ode;' and, 'to lyce, an elderly lady.' i am not positive that all these were his productions[ ]; but as 'the winter's walk' has never been controverted to be his, and all of them have the same mark, it is reasonable to conclude that they are all written by the same hand. yet to the ode, in which we find a passage very characteristick of him, being a learned description of the gout, 'unhappy, whom to beds of pain _arthritick_ tyranny consigns;' there is the following note: 'the authour being ill of the gout:' but johnson was not attacked with that distemper till at a very late period of his life[ ]. may not this, however, be a poetical fiction? why may not a poet suppose himself to have the gout, as well as suppose himself to be in love, of which we have innumerable instances, and which has been admirably ridiculed by johnson in his _life of cowley_[ ]? i have also some difficulty to believe that he could produce such a group of _conceits_[ ] as appear in the verses to lyce, in which he claims for this ancient personage as good a right to be assimilated to _heaven_, as nymphs whom other poets have flattered; he therefore ironically ascribes to her the attributes of the _sky_, in such stanzas as this: 'her teeth the _night_ with _darkness_ dies, she's _starr'd_ with pimples o'er; her tongue like nimble _lightning_ plies, and can with _thunder roar_.' but as at a very advanced age he could condescend to trifle in _namby-pamby_[ ] rhymes, to please mrs. thrale and her daughter, he may have, in his earlier years, composed such a piece as this. it is remarkable, that in this first edition of _the winters walk_, the concluding line is much more johnsonian than it was afterwards printed; for in subsequent editions, after praying stella to 'snatch him to her arms,' he says, 'and _shield_ me from the _ills_ of life.' [page : verses on lord lovat. a.d. .] whereas in the first edition it is 'and hide me from the _sight_ of life.' a horrour at life in general is more consonant with johnson's habitual gloomy cast of thought. i have heard him repeat with great energy the following verses, which appeared in the _gentleman's magazine_ for april this year; but i have no authority to say they were his own. indeed one of the best criticks of our age[ ] suggests to me, that 'the word _indifferently_ being used in the sense of _without concern_' and being also very unpoetical, renders it improbable that they should have been his composition. 'on lord lovat's _execution_. 'pity'd by _gentle minds_ kilmarnock died; the _brave_, balmerino, were on thy side; radcliffe, unhappy in his crimes of youth[ ], steady in what he still mistook for truth, beheld his death so decently unmov'd, the _soft_ lamented, and the _brave_ approv'd. but lovat's fate[ ] indifferently we view, true to no king, to no _religion_ true: no _fair_ forgets the _ruin_ he has done; no _child_ laments the _tyrant_ of his _son_; no _tory_ pities, thinking what he was; no _whig_ compassions, _for he left the cause_; the _brave_ regret not, for he was not brave; the _honest_ mourn not, knowing him a knave[ ]!' [page : a prologue by johnson. Ætat .] this year his old pupil and friend, david garrick, having become joint patentee and manager of drury-lane theatre, johnson honoured his opening of it with a prologue[ ],[*] which for just and manly dramatick criticism, on the whole range of the english stage, as well as for poetical excellence[ ], is unrivalled. like the celebrated epilogue to the _distressed mother_,[ ] it was, during the season, often called for by the audience. the most striking and brilliant passages of it have been so often repeated, and are so well recollected by all the lovers of the drama and of poetry, that it would be superfluous to point them out. in the _gentleman's magazine_ for december this year, he inserted an 'ode on winter,' which is, i think, an admirable specimen of his genius for lyrick poetry[ ]. [page : the plan of the dictionary. a.d. .] but the year is distinguished as the epoch, when johnson's arduous and important work, his dictionary of the english language, was announced to the world, by the publication of its plan or _prospectus_. how long this immense undertaking had been the object of his contemplation, i do not know. i once asked him by what means he had attained to that astonishing knowledge of our language, by which he was enabled to realise a design of such extent, and accumulated difficulty. he told me, that 'it was not the effect of particular study; but that it had grown up in his mind insensibly.' i have been informed by mr. james dodsley, that several years before this period, when johnson was one day sitting in his brother robert's shop, he heard his brother suggest to him, that a dictionary of the english language would be a work that would be well received by the publick[ ]; that johnson seemed at first to catch at the proposition, but, after a pause, said, in his abrupt decisive manner, 'i believe i shall not undertake it.' that he, however, had bestowed much thought upon the subject, before he published his _plan_, is evident from the enlarged, clear, and accurate views which it exhibits; and we find him mentioning in that tract, that many of the writers whose testimonies were to be produced as authorities, were selected by pope[ ]; which proves that he had been furnished, probably by mr. robert dodsley, with whatever hints that eminent poet had contributed towards a great literary project, that had been the subject of important consideration in a former reign. [page : address of the earl of chesterfield. Ætat .] the booksellers who contracted with johnson, single and unaided, for the execution of a work, which in other countries has not been effected but by the co-operating exertions of many, were mr. robert dodsley, mr. charles hitch[ ], mr. andrew millar, the two messieurs longman, and the two messieurs knapton. the price stipulated was fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds[ ]. the _plan_ was addressed to philip dormer, earl of chesterfield, then one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state[ ]; a nobleman who was very ambitious of literary distinction, and who, upon being informed of the design, had expressed himself in terms very favourable to its success. there is, perhaps in every thing of any consequence, a secret history which it would be amusing to know, could we have it authentically communicated. johnson told me[ ], 'sir, the way in which the _plan_ of my _dictionary_ came to be inscribed to lord chesterfield, was this: i had neglected to write it by the time appointed. dodsley suggested a desire to have it addressed to lord chesterfield. i laid hold of this as a pretext for delay, that it might be better done, and let dodsley have his desire. i said to my friend, dr. bathurst, "now if any good comes of my addressing to lord chesterfield, it will be ascribed to deep policy, when, in fact, it was only a casual excuse for laziness."' [page : the style of the plan. a.d. .] it is worthy of observation, that the _plan_ has not only the substantial merit of comprehension, perspicuity, and precision, but that the language of it is unexceptionably excellent; it being altogether free from that inflation of style, and those uncommon but apt and energetick words[ ], which in some of his writings have been censured, with more petulance than justice; and never was there a more dignified strain of compliment than that in which he courts the attention of one who, he had been persuaded to believe, would be a respectable patron. 'with regard to questions of purity or propriety, (says he) i was once in doubt whether i should not attribute to myself too much in attempting to decide them, and whether my province was to extend beyond the proposition of the question, and the display of the suffrages on each side; but i have been since determined by your lordship's opinion, to interpose my own judgement, and shall therefore endeavour to support what appears to me most consonant to grammar and reason. ausonius thought that modesty forbade him to plead inability for a task to which caesar had judged him equal: cur me pesse negem posse quod ille putat[ ]? 'and i may hope, my lord, that since you, whose authority in our language is so generally acknowledged, have commissioned me to declare my own opinion, i shall be considered as exercising a kind of vicarious jurisdiction; and that the power which might have been denied to my own claim, will be readily allowed me as the delegate of your lordship.' [page : the earl of orrery. Ætat .] this passage proves, that johnson's addressing his _plan_ to lord chesterfield was not merely in consequence of the result of a report by means of dodsley, that the earl favoured the design; but that there had been a particular communication with his lordship concerning it. dr. taylor told me, that johnson sent his _plan_ to him in manuscript, for his perusal; and that when it was lying upon his table, mr. william whitehead[ ] happened to pay him a visit, and being shewn it, was highly pleased with such parts of it as he had time to read, and begged to take it home with him, which he was allowed to do; that from him it got into the hands of a noble lord, who carried it to lord chesterfield[ ]. when taylor observed this might be an advantage, johnson replied, 'no, sir; it would have come out with more bloom, if it had not been seen before by any body.' the opinion conceived of it by another noble authour, appears from the following extract of a letter from the earl of orrery to dr. birch: 'caledon, dec. , . 'i have just now seen the specimen of mr. johnson's dictionary, addressed to lord chesterfield. i am much pleased with the plan, and i think the specimen is one of the best that i have ever read. most specimens disgust, rather than prejudice us in favour of the work to follow; but the language of mr. johnson's is good, and the arguments are properly and modestly expressed. however, some expressions may be cavilled at, but they are trifles. i'll mention one. the _barren_ laurel. the laurel is not barren, in any sense whatever; it bears fruits and flowers[ ]. _sed hae sunt nugae_, and i have great expectation from the performance[ ].' that he was fully aware of the arduous nature of the undertaking, he acknowledges; and shews himself perfectly sensible of it in the conclusion of his _plan_[ ]; but he had a noble consciousness of his own abilities, which enabled him to go on with undaunted spirit[ ]. [page : the dictionary of the french academy. a.d. .] dr. adams found him one day busy at his _dictionary_, when the following dialogue ensued. 'adams. this is a great work, sir. how are you to get all the etymologies? johnson. why, sir, here is a shelf with junius, and skinner[ ], and others; and there is a welch gentleman who has published a collection of welch proverbs, who will help me with the welch[ ]. adams. but, sir, how can you do this in three years? johnson. sir, i have no doubt that i can do it in three years. adams. but the french academy, which consists of forty members, took forty years to compile their dictionary. johnson. sir, thus it is. this is the proportion. let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. as three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an englishman to a frenchman.' with so much ease and pleasantry could he talk of that prodigious labour which he had undertaken to execute. the publick has had, from another pen[ ], a long detail of what had been done in this country by prior lexicographers; and no doubt johnson was wise to avail himself of them, so far as they went: but the learned, yet judicious research of etymology[ ], the various, yet accurate display of definition, and the rich collection of authorities, were reserved for the superior mind of our great philologist[ ]. for the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses; and let it be remembered by the natives of north-britain, to whom he is supposed to have been so hostile, that five of them were of that country. there were two messieurs macbean; mr. shiels, who we shall hereafter see partly wrote the _lives of the poets_ to which the name of cibber is affixed[ ]; mr. stewart, son of mr. george stewart, bookseller at edinburgh; and a mr. maitland. the sixth of these humble assistants was mr. peyton, who, i believe, taught french, and published some elementary tracts. [page : johnson's amanuenses. Ætat .] to all these painful labourers, johnson shewed a never-ceasing kindness, so far as they stood in need of it. the elder mr. macbean had afterwards the honour of being librarian to archibald, duke of argyle, for many years, but was left without a shilling. johnson wrote for him a preface to _a system of ancient geography_; and, by the favour of lord thurlow, got him admitted a poor brother of the charterhouse[ ]. for shiels, who died, of a consumption, he had much tenderness; and it has been thought that some choice sentences in the _lives of the poets_ were supplied by him[ ]. peyton, when reduced to penury, had frequent aid from the bounty of johnson, who at last was at the expense of burying both him and his wife[ ]. [page : the upper room in gough-square. a.d. .] [page : authours quoted in the dictionary. Ætat .] while the _dictionary_ was going forward, johnson lived part of the time in holborn, part in gough-square, fleet-street; and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several tasks[ ]. the words, partly taken from other dictionaries, and partly supplied by himself, having been first written down with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing their etymologies, definitions, and various significations[ ]. the authorities were copied from the books themselves, in which he had marked the passages with a black-lead pencil, the traces of which could easily be effaced[ ]. i have seen several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken; so that they were just as when used by the copyists[ ]. it is remarkable, that he was so attentive in the choice of the passages in which words were authorised, that one may read page after page of his _dictionary_ with improvement and pleasure; and it should not pass unobserved, that he has quoted no authour whose writings had a tendency to hurt sound religion and morality[ ]. the necessary expense of preparing a work of such magnitude for the press, must have been a considerable deduction from the price stipulated to be paid for the copy-right. i understand that nothing was allowed by the booksellers on that account; and i remember his telling me, that a large portion of it having by mistake been written upon both sides of the paper, so as to be inconvenient for the compositor, it cost him twenty pounds to have it transcribed upon one side only. [page : the ivy lane club. a.d. .] [page : mr. john hawkins, an attorney. Ætat .] he is now to be considered as 'tugging at his oar[ ],' as engaged in a steady continued course of occupation, sufficient to employ all his time for some years; and which was the best preventive of that constitutional melancholy which was ever lurking about him, ready to trouble his quiet. but his enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more diversity of employment, and the pleasure of animated relaxation[ ]. he therefore not only exerted his talents in occasional composition very different from lexicography, but formed a club in ivy-lane, paternoster-row, with a view to enjoy literary discussion, and amuse his evening hours. the members associated with him in this little society were his beloved friend dr. richard bathurst[ ], mr. hawkesworth[ ], afterwards well known by his writings, mr. john hawkins, an attorney[ ], and a few others of different professions[ ]. [page : the vision of theodore. a.d. .] in the _gentleman's magazine_ for may of this year he wrote a 'life of roscommon,'[*] with notes, which he afterwards much improved, indented the notes into text, and inserted it amongst his _lives of the english poets_. mr. dodsley this year brought out his _preceptor_, one of the most valuable books for the improvement of young minds that has appeared in any language; and to this meritorious work johnson furnished 'the preface,'[*] containing a general sketch of the book, with a short and perspicuous recommendation of each article; as also, 'the vision of theodore the hermit, found in his cell,'[*] a most beautiful allegory of human life, under the figure of ascending the mountain of existence. the bishop of dromore heard dr. johnson say, that he thought this was the best thing he ever wrote[ ]. : Ætat. .--in january, , he published _the vanity of human wishes, being the tenth satire of juvenal imitated_[ ]. he, i believe, composed it the preceding year[ ]. mrs. johnson, for the sake of country air, had lodgings at hampstead, to which he resorted occasionally, and there the greatest part, if not the whole, of this _imitation_ was written[ ]. the fervid rapidity with which it was produced, is scarcely credible. i have heard him say, that he composed seventy lines of it in one day, without putting one of them upon paper till they were finished[ ]. [page : the payment of poets.] i remember when i once regretted to him that he had not given us more of juvenal's _satires_, he said he probably should give more, for he had them all in his head; by which i understood that he had the originals and correspondent allusions floating in his mind, which he could, when he pleased, embody and render permanent without much labour. some of them, however, he observed were too gross for imitation. the profits of a single poem, however excellent, appear to have been very small in the last reign, compared with what a publication of the same size has since been known to yield. i have mentioned, upon johnson's own authority, that for his _london_ he had only ten guineas; and now, after his fame was established, he got for his _vanity of human wishes_ but five guineas more, as is proved by an authentick document in my possession[ ]. it will be observed, that he reserves to himself the right of printing one edition of this satire, which was his practice upon occasion of the sale of all his writings; it being his fixed intention to publish at some period, for his own profit, a complete collection of his works[ ]. his _vanity of human wishes_ has less of common life, but more of a philosophick dignity than his _london_. more readers, therefore, will be delighted with the pointed spirit of _london_, than with the profound reflection of _the vanity of human wishes_[ ]. garrick, for instance, observed in his sprightly manner, with more vivacity than regard to just discrimination, as is usual with wits, 'when johnson lived much with the herveys, and saw a good deal of what was passing in life, he wrote his _london_, which is lively and easy. when he became more retired, he gave us his _vanity of human wishes_, which is as hard as greek. had he gone on to imitate another satire, it would have been as hard as hebrew[ ].' [page : lydiat's life. a.d. .] but _the vanity of human wishes_ is, in the opinion of the best judges, as high an effort of ethick poetry as any language can shew. the instances of variety of disappointment are chosen so judiciously and painted so strongly, that, the moment they are read, they bring conviction to every thinking mind. that of the scholar must have depressed the too sanguine expectations of many an ambitious student[ ]. that of the warrior, charles of sweden, is, i think, as highly finished a picture as can possibly be conceived. [page : the conclusion of johnson's poem. Ætat .] were all the other excellencies of this poem annihilated, it must ever have our grateful reverence from its noble conclusion; in which we are consoled with the assurance that happiness may be attained, if we 'apply our hearts[ ]' to piety: 'where then shall hope and fear their objects find? shall dull suspense corrupt the stagnant mind? must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, roll darkling down the torrent of his fate? shall no dislike alarm, no wishes rise, no cries attempt the mercy of the skies? enthusiast[ ], cease; petitions yet remain, which heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain. still raise for good the supplicating voice, but leave to heaven the measure and the choice. safe in his hand, whose eye discerns afar the secret ambush of a specious pray'r; implore his aid, in his decisions rest, secure whate'er he gives he gives the best. yet when the sense of sacred presence fires, and strong devotion to the skies aspires, pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, obedient passions, and a will resign'd; for love, which scarce collective man can fill, for patience, sovereign o'er transmuted ill; for faith, which panting for a happier seat, counts death kind nature's signal for retreat. these goods for man the laws of heaven ordain, these goods he grants, who grants the power to gain; with these celestial wisdom calms the mind, and makes the happiness she does not find.' [page : irene on the stage. a.d. .] garrick being now vested with theatrical power by being manager of drury-lane theatre, he kindly and generously made use of it to bring out johnson's tragedy, which had been long kept back for want of encouragement. but in this benevolent purpose he met with no small difficulty from the temper of johnson, which could not brook that a drama which he had formed with much study, and had been obliged to keep more than the nine years of horace[ ], should be revised and altered at the pleasure of an actor[ ]. yet garrick knew well, that without some alterations it would not be fit for the stage. a violent dispute having ensued between them, garrick applied to the reverend dr. taylor to interpose. johnson was at first very obstinate. 'sir, (said he) the fellow wants me to make mahomet run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels[ ].' he was, however, at last, with difficulty, prevailed on to comply with garrick's wishes, so as to allow of some changes; but still there were not enough. [page : the epilogue to irene. Ætat .] dr. adams was present the first night of the representation of _irene_, and gave me the following account: 'before the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which alarmed johnson's friends. the prologue, which was written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience[ ], and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when mrs. pritchard[ ], the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bow-string round her neck. the audience cried out "_murder! murder_[ ]!" she several times attempted to speak; but in vain. at last she was obliged to go off the stage alive.' this passage was afterwards struck out, and she was carried off to be put to death behind the scenes, as the play now has it[ ]. the epilogue, as johnson informed me, was written by sir william yonge[ ]. i know not how his play came to be thus graced by the pen of a person then so eminent in the political world. notwithstanding all the support of such performers as garrick, barry, mrs. cibber, mrs. pritchard, and every advantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of _irene_ did not please the publick[ ]. mr. garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights[ ], so that the authour had his three nights' profits; and from a receipt signed by him, now in the hands of mr. james dodsley, it appears that his friend mr. robert dodsley gave him one hundred pounds for the copy, with his usual reservation of the right of one edition[ ]. [page : irene as a poem. a.d. .] [page : johnson no tragedy-writer. Ætat .] _irene_, considered as a poem, is intitled to the praise of superiour excellence[ ]. analysed into parts, it will furnish a rich store of noble sentiments, fine imagery, and beautiful language; but it is deficient in pathos, in that delicate power of touching the human feelings, which is the principal end of the drama[ ]. indeed garrick has complained to me, that johnson not only had not the faculty of producing the impressions of tragedy, but that he had not the sensibility to perceive them. his great friend mr. walmsley's prediction, that he would 'turn out a fine tragedy-writer[ ],' was, therefore, ill-founded. johnson was wise enough to be convinced that he had not the talents necessary to write successfully for the stage, and never made another attempt in that species of composition[ ]. [page : deference for the general opinion. a.d. .] when asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, 'like the monument[ ];' meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column. and let it be remembered, as an admonition to the _genus irritabile_[ ] of dramatick writers, that this great man, instead of peevishly complaining of the bad taste of the town, submitted to its decision without a murmur. he had, indeed, upon all occasions, a great deference for the general opinion[ ]: 'a man (said he) who writes a book, thinks himself wiser or wittier than the rest of mankind; he supposes that he can instruct or amuse them, and the publick to whom he appeals, must, after all, be the judges of his pretensions.' [page : johnson in the green room. Ætat .] on occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat[ ]. he humourously observed to mr. langton, that 'when in that dress he could not treat people with the same ease as when in his usual plain clothes[ ].' dress indeed, we must allow, has more effect even upon strong minds than one should suppose, without having had the experience of it. his necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes, which produced a more favourable opinion of their profession than he had harshly expressed in his _life of savage_[ ]. with some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. he for a considerable time used to frequent the _green room_, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there[ ]. mr. david hume related to me from mr. garrick, that johnson at last denied himself this amusement, from considerations of rigid virtue; saying, 'i'll come no more behind your scenes, david; for the silk stockings and white bosoms of your actresses excite my amorous propensities.' [page : the rambler. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in he came forth in the character for which he was eminently qualified, a majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom. the vehicle which he chose was that of a periodical paper, which he knew had been, upon former occasions, employed with great success. the _tatler, spectator_, and _guardian_, were the last of the kind published in england, which had stood the test of a long trial[ ]; and such an interval had now elapsed since their publication, as made him justly think that, to many of his readers, this form of instruction would, in some degree, have the advantage of novelty. a few days before the first of his _essays_ came out, there started another competitor for fame in the same form, under the title of _the _tatler revived_[ ], which i believe was 'born but to die[ ].' johnson was, i think, not very happy in the choice of his title, _the rambler_, which certainly is not suited to a series of grave and moral discourses; which the italians have literally, but ludicrously translated by _il vagabondo_[ ]; and which has been lately assumed as the denomination of a vehicle of licentious tales, _the rambler's magazine_. he gave sir joshua reynolds the following account of its getting this name: 'what _must_ be done, sir, _will_ be done. when i was to begin publishing that paper, i was at a loss how to name it. i sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that i would not go to sleep till i had fixed its title. _the rambler_ seemed the best that occurred, and i took it[ ].' with what devout and conscientious sentiments this paper was undertaken, is evidenced by the following prayer, which he composed and offered up on the occasion: 'almighty god, the giver of all good things, without whose help all labour is ineffectual, and without whose grace all wisdom is folly; grant, i beseech thee, that in this undertaking[ ] thy holy spirit may not be with-held from me, but that i may promote thy glory, and the salvation of myself and others: grant this, o lord, for the sake of thy son jesus christ. amen[ ].' [page : revision of the rambler. Ætat .] the first paper of the _rambler_ was published on tuesday the th of march, ; and its authour was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every tuesday and friday, till saturday the th of march, [ ], on which day it closed. this is a strong confirmation of the truth of a remark of his, which i have had occasion to quote elsewhere[ ], that 'a man may write at any time, if he will set himself doggedly to it[ ];' for, notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his _dictionary_, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind, during all that time; having received no assistance, except four billets in no. , by miss mulso, now mrs. chapone[ ]; no. , by mrs. catharine talbot[ ]; no. , by mr. samuel richardson, whom he describes in an introductory note as 'an author who has enlarged the knowledge of human nature, and taught the passions to move at the command of virtue;' and nos. and by mrs. elizabeth carter. [page : johnson's rapid composition. a.d. .] posterity will be astonished when they are told, upon the authority of johnson himself, that many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed[ ]. it can be accounted for only in this way; that by reading and meditation, and a very close inspection of life, he had accumulated a great fund of miscellaneous knowledge, which, by a peculiar promptitude of mind, was ever ready at his call, and which he had constantly accustomed himself to clothe in the most apt and energetick expression. sir joshua reynolds once asked him by what means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow of language. he told him, that he had early laid it down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every company; to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could put it in; and that by constant practice, and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him[ ]. [page : hints for the rambler. Ætat .] yet he was not altogether unprepared as a periodical writer; for i have in my possession a small duodecimo volume, in which he has written, in the form of mr. locke's _common-place book_, a variety of hints for essays on different subjects. he has marked upon the first blank leaf of it, 'to the th page, collections for the _rambler_;' and in another place, 'in fifty-two there were seventeen provided; in - ; in - .' at a subsequent period (probably after the work was finished) he added, 'in all, taken of provided materials, [ ].' sir john hawkins, who is unlucky upon all occasions, tells us, that 'this method of accumulating intelligence had been practised by mr. addison, and is humourously described in one of the _spectators_[ ], wherein he feigns to have dropped his paper of _notanda_, consisting of a diverting medley of broken sentences and loose hints, which he tells us he had collected, and meant to make use of. much of the same kind is johnson's _adversaria_[ ]'. but the truth is, that there is no resemblance at all between them. addison's note was a fiction, in which unconnected fragments of his lucubrations were purposely jumbled together, in as odd a manner as he could, in order to produce a laughable effect. whereas johnson's abbreviations are all distinct, and applicable to each subject of which the head is mentioned. for instance, there is the following specimen: _youth's entry, &c_. 'baxter's account of things in which he had changed his mind as he grew up. voluminous.--no wonder.--if every man was to tell, or mark, on how many subjects he has changed, it would make vols. but the changes not always observed by man's self.--from pleasure to bus. [business] to quiet; from thoughtfulness to reflect. to piety; from dissipation to domestic. by impercept. gradat. but the change is certain. dial[ ] _non progredi, progress. esse conspicimus_. look back, consider what was thought at some dist. period. '_hope predom. in youth. mind not willingly indulges unpleasing thoughts_. the world lies all enameled before him, as a distant prospect sun-gilt[ ]; inequalities only found by coming to it. _love is to be all joy--children excellent_--fame to be constant--caresses of the great--applauses of the learned--smiles of beauty. '_fear of disgrace--bashfulness_--finds things of less importance. miscarriages forgot like excellencies;--if remembered, of no import. danger of sinking into negligence of reputation. lest the fear of disgrace destroy activity. [page : hints for the rambler. a.d. .] '_confidence in himself_. long tract of life before him.--no thought of sickness.--embarrassment of affairs.--distraction of family. publick calamities.--no sense of the prevalence of bad habits.--negligent of time--ready to undertake--careless to pursue--all changed by time. '_confident of others_--unsuspecting as unexperienced--imagining himself secure against neglect, never imagines they will venture to treat him ill. ready to trust; expecting to be trusted. convinced by time of the selfishness, the meanness, the cowardice, the treachery of men. 'youth ambitious, as thinking honours easy to be had. 'different kinds of praise pursued at different periods. of the gay in youth, dang. hurt, &c. despised. 'of the fancy in manhood. ambit.--stocks--bargains.--of the wise and sober in old age--seriousness--formality--maxims, but general--only of the rich, otherwise age is happy--but at last every thing referred to riches--no having fame, honour, influence, without subjection to caprice. 'horace[ ]. 'hard it would be if men entered life with the same views with which they leave it, or left as they enter it.--no hope--no undertaking--no regard to benevolence--no fear of disgrace, &c. 'youth to be taught the piety of age--age to retain the honour of youth.' this, it will be observed, is the sketch of number of the _rambler_. i shall gratify my readers with another specimen: '_confederacies difficult; why_. [page : hints for the rambler. Ætat .] 'seldom in war a match for single persons--nor in peace; therefore kings make themselves absolute. confederacies in learning--every great work the work of one. _bruy_. scholar's friendship like ladies. scribebamus, &c. mart.[ ] the apple of discord--the laurel of discord--the poverty of criticism. swift's opinion of the power of six geniuses united[ ]. that union scarce possible. his remarks just; man a social, not steady nature. drawn to man by words, repelled by passions. orb drawn by attraction rep. [_repelled_] by centrifugal. 'common danger unites by crushing other passions--but they return. equality hinders compliance. superiority produces insolence and envy. too much regard in each to private interest--too little. 'the mischiefs of private and exclusive societies--the fitness of social attraction diffused through the whole. the mischiefs of too partial love of our country. contraction of moral duties--[greek: oi philoi on philos][ ]. 'every man moves upon his own center, and therefore repels others from too near a contact, though he may comply with some general laws. 'of confederacy with superiours, every one knows the inconvenience. with equals, no authority;--every man his own opinion--his own interest. 'man and wife hardly united;--scarce ever without children. computation, if two to one against two, how many against five? if confederacies were easy--useless;--many oppresses many.--if possible only to some, dangerous. _principum amicitias_[ ]'. here we see the embryo of number of the _adventurer_; and it is a confirmation of what i shall presently have occasion to mention[ ], that the papers in that collection marked t. were written by johnson. [page : the rambler's slow sale. a.d. .] this scanty preparation of materials will not, however, much diminish our wonder at the extraordinary fertility of his mind; for the proportion which they bear to the number of essays which he wrote, is very small; and it is remarkable, that those for which he had made no preparation, are as rich and as highly finished as those for which the hints were lying by him. it is also to be observed, that the papers formed from his hints are worked up with such strength and elegance, that we almost lose sight of the hints, which become like 'drops in the bucket.' indeed, in several instances, he has made a very slender use of them, so that many of them remain still unapplied[ ]. as the _rambler_ was entirely the work of one man, there was, of course, such a uniformity in its texture, as very much to exclude the charm of variety[ ]; and the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. so slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, that even in the closing number the authour says, 'i have never been much a favourite of the publick[ ].' [page : george ii. not an augustus. Ætat .] yet, very soon after its commencement, there were who felt and acknowledged its uncommon excellence. verses in its praise appeared in the newspapers; and the editor of the _gentleman's magazine_ mentions, in october, his having received several letters to the same purpose from the learned[ ]. _the student, or oxford and cambridge miscellany_, in which mr. bonnell thornton and mr. colman were the principal writers, describes it as 'a work that exceeds anything of the kind ever published in this kingdom, some of the _spectators_ excepted--if indeed they may be excepted.' and afterwards, 'may the publick favours crown his merits, and may not the english, under the auspicious reign of george the second, neglect a man, who, had he lived in the first century, would have been one of the greatest favourites of augustus.' this flattery of the monarch had no effect. it is too well known, that the second george never was an augustus to learning or genius[ ]. [page : mrs. johnson's praise of the rambler. a.d. .] johnson told me, with an amiable fondness, a little pleasing circumstance relative to this work. mrs. johnson, in whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of the _rambler_ had come out, 'i thought very well of you before; but i did not imagine you could have written any thing equal to this[ ].' distant praise, from whatever quarter, is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems. her approbation may be said to 'come home to his _bosom_;' and being so near, its effect is most sensible and permanent. mr. james elphinston[ ], who has since published various works, and who was ever esteemed by johnson as a worthy man, happened to be in scotland while the _rambler_ was coming out in single papers at london. with a laudable zeal at once for the improvement of his countrymen, and the reputation of his friend, he suggested and took the charge of an edition of those essays at edinburgh, which followed progressively the london publication[ ]. the following letter written at this time, though not dated, will show how much pleased johnson was with this publication, and what kindness and regard he had for mr. elphinston. [page : letters to mr. elphinston. Ætat .] 'to mr. james elphinston. [no date.] 'dear sir, 'i cannot but confess the failures of my correspondence, but hope the same regard which you express for me on every other occasion, will incline you to forgive me. i am often, very often, ill; and, when i am well, am obliged to work: and, indeed, have never much used myself to punctuality. you are, however, not to make unkind inferences, when i forbear to reply to your kindness; for be assured, i never receive a letter from you without great pleasure, and a very warm sense of your generosity and friendship, which i heartily blame myself for not cultivating with more care. in this, as in many other cases, i go wrong, in opposition to conviction; for i think scarce any temporal good equally to be desired with the regard and familiarity of worthy men. i hope we shall be some time nearer to each other, and have a more ready way of pouring out our hearts. 'i am glad that you still find encouragement to proceed in your publication, and shall beg the favour of six more volumes to add to my former six, when you can, with any convenience, send them me. please to present a set, in my name, to mr. ruddiman[ ], of whom, i hear, that his learning is not his highest excellence. i have transcribed the mottos, and returned them, i hope not too late, of which i think many very happily performed. mr. cave has put the last in the magazine[ ], in which i think he did well. i beg of you to write soon, and to write often, and to write long letters, which i hope in time to repay you; but you must be a patient creditor. i have, however, this of gratitude, that i think of you with regard, when i do not, perhaps, give the proofs which i ought, of being, sir, 'your most obliged and 'most humble servant. sam. johnson.' this year he wrote to the same gentleman another letter, upon a mournful occasion, [page : the death of a mother. a.d. .] 'to mr. james elphinston. september , . 'dear sir, 'you have, as i find by every kind of evidence, lost an excellent mother; and i hope you will not think me incapable of partaking of your grief. i have a mother, now eighty-two years of age, whom, therefore, i must soon lose[ ], unless it please god that she rather should mourn for me. i read the letters in which you relate your mother's death to mrs. strahan[ ], and think i do myself honour, when i tell you that i read them with tears; but tears are neither to _you_ nor to _me_ of any further use, when once the tribute of nature has been paid. the business of life summons us away from useless grief, and calls us to the exercise of those virtues of which we are lamenting our deprivation. the greatest benefit which one friend can confer upon another, is to guard, and excite, and elevate his virtues. this your mother will still perform, if you diligently preserve the memory of her life, and of her death: a life, so far as i can learn, useful, wise, and innocent; and a death resigned, peaceful, and holy. i cannot forbear to mention, that neither reason nor revelation denies you to hope, that you may increase her happiness by obeying her precepts; and that she may, in her present state, look with pleasure upon every act of virtue to which her instructions or example have contributed. whether this be more than a pleasing dream, or a just opinion of separate spirits, is, indeed, of no great importance to us, when we consider ourselves as acting under the eye of god: yet, surely, there is something pleasing in the belief, that our separation from those whom we love is merely corporeal; and it may be a great incitement to virtuous friendship, if it can be made probable, that that union that has received the divine approbation shall continue to eternity. 'there is one expedient by which you may, in some degree, continue her presence. if you write down minutely what you remember of her from your earliest years, you will read it with great pleasure, and receive from it many hints of soothing recollection, when time shall remove her yet farther from you, and your grief shall be matured to veneration. to this, however painful for the present, i cannot but advise you, as to a source of comfort and satisfaction in the time to come; for all comfort and all satisfaction is sincerely wished you by, dear sir, 'your most obliged, most obedient, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' [page : goldsmith's debt to johnson. Ætat .] the _rambler_ has increased in fame as in age. soon after its first folio edition was concluded, it was published in six duodecimo volumes[ ]; and its authour lived to see ten numerous editions of it in london, beside those of ireland and scotland[ ]. i profess myself to have ever entertained a profound veneration for the astonishing force and vivacity of mind which the _rambler_ exhibits. that johnson had penetration enough to see, and seeing would not disguise the general misery of man in this state of being, may have given rise to the superficial notion of his being too stern a philosopher. but men of reflection will be sensible that he has given a true representation of human existence, and that he has, at the same time, with a generous benevolence displayed every consolation which our state affords us; not only those arising from the hopes of futurity, but such as may be attained in the immediate progress through life. he has not depressed the soul to despondency and indifference. he has every where inculcated study, labour, and exertion. nay, he has shewn, in a very odious light, a man whose practice is to go about darkening the views of others, by perpetual complaints of evil, and awakening those considerations of danger and distress, which are, for the most part, lulled into a quiet oblivion. this he has done very strongly in his character of suspirius[ ], from which goldsmith took that of croaker, in his comedy of _the good-natured man_[ ], as johnson told me he acknowledged to him, and which is, indeed, very obvious[ ]. [page : the beauties of dr. johnson. a.d. .] to point out the numerous subjects which the _rambler_ treats, with a dignity and perspicuity which are there united in a manner which we shall in vain look for any where else, would take up too large a portion of my book, and would, i trust, be superfluous, considering how universally those volumes are now disseminated. even the most condensed and brilliant sentences which they contain, and which have very properly been selected under the name of _beauties_[ ], are of considerable bulk. but i may shortly observe, that the _rambler_ furnishes such an assemblage of discourses on practical religion and moral duty, of critical investigations, and allegorical and oriental tales, that no mind can be thought very deficient that has, by constant study and meditation, assimilated to itself all that may be found there. no. , written in passion-week on abstraction and self-examination[ ], and no. , on penitence and the placability of the divine nature, cannot be too often read. no. , on the effect which the death of a friend should have upon us, though rather too dispiriting, may be occasionally very medicinal to the mind. every one must suppose the writer to have been deeply impressed by a real scene; but he told me that was not the case; which shews how well his fancy could conduct him to the 'house of mourning[ ].' some of these more solemn papers, i doubt not, particularly attracted the notice of dr. young, the authour of _the night thoughts_, of whom my estimation is such, as to reckon his applause an honour even to johnson. i have seen some volumes of dr. young's copy of the _rambler_, in which he has marked the passages which he thought particularly excellent, by folding down a corner of the page; and such as he rated in a super-eminent degree, are marked by double folds. i am sorry that some of the volumes are lost. johnson was pleased when told of the minute attention with which young had signified his approbation of his essays. [page : a club in essex. Ætat .] i will venture to say, that in no writings whatever can be found _more bark and steel for the mind_, if i may use the expression; more that can brace and invigorate every manly and noble sentiment. no. on patience, even under extreme misery, is wonderfully lofty, and as much above the rant of stoicism, as the sun of revelation is brighter than the twilight of pagan philosophy. i never read the following sentence without feeling my frame thrill: 'i think there is some reason for questioning whether the body and mind are not so proportioned, that the one can bear all which can be inflicted on the other; whether virtue cannot stand its ground as long as life, and whether a soul well principled, will not be sooner separated than subdued[ ].' [page : the character of prospero. a.d. .] [page : the style of the rambler. Ætat .] though instruction be the predominant purpose of the _rambler_, yet it is enlivened with a considerable portion of amusement. nothing can be more erroneous than the notion which some persons have entertained, that johnson was then a retired authour, ignorant of the world; and, of consequence, that he wrote only from his imagination when he described characters and manners. he said to me, that before he wrote that work, he had been 'running about the world,' as he expressed it, more than almost any body; and i have heard him relate, with much satisfaction, that several of the characters in the _rambler_ were drawn so naturally, that when it first circulated in numbers, a club in one of the towns in essex imagined themselves to be severally exhibited in it, and were much incensed against a person who, they suspected, had thus made them objects of publick notice; nor were they quieted till authentick assurance was given them, that the _rambler_ was written by a person who had never heard of any one of them[ ]. some of the characters are believed to have been actually drawn from the life, particularly that of prospero from garrick[ ], who never entirely forgave its pointed satire[ ]. for instances of fertility of fancy, and accurate description of real life, i appeal to no. , a man who wanders from one profession to another, with most plausible reasons for every change. no. , female fastidiousness and timorous refinement. no. , a virtuoso who has collected curiosities. no. [ ], petty modes of entertaining a company, and conciliating kindness. no. , fortune-hunting. no. - , a tutor's account of the follies of his pupil. no. - , legacy-hunting. he has given a specimen of his nice observation of the mere external appearances of life, in the following passage in no. , against affectation, that frequent and most disgusting quality: 'he that stands to contemplate the crouds that fill the streets of a populous city, will see many passengers whose air and motion it will be difficult to behold without contempt and laughter; but if he examine what are the appearances that thus powerfully excite his risibility, he will find among them neither poverty nor disease, nor any involuntary or painful defect. the disposition to derision and insult, is awakened by the softness of foppery, the swell of insolence, the liveliness of levity, or the solemnity of grandeur; by the sprightly trip, the stately stalk, the formal strut, and the lofty mien; by gestures intended to catch the eye, and by looks elaborately formed as evidences of importance.' every page of the _rambler_ shews a mind teeming with classical allusion and poetical imagery: illustrations from other writers are, upon all occasions, so ready, and mingle so easily in his periods, that the whole appears of one uniform vivid texture. [page : johnson's masters in style. a.d. .] [page : a great personage. Ætat .] the style of this work has been censured by some shallow criticks as involved and turgid, and abounding with antiquated and hard words. so ill-founded is the first part of this objection, that i will challenge all who may honour this book with a perusal, to point out any english writer whose language conveys his meaning with equal force and perspicuity. it must, indeed, be allowed, that the structure of his sentences is expanded, and often has somewhat of the inversion of latin; and that he delighted to express familiar thoughts in philosophical language; being in this the reverse of socrates, who, it was said, reduced philosophy to the simplicity of common life. but let us attend to what he himself says in his concluding paper: 'when common words were less pleasing to the ear, or less distinct in their signification, i have familiarised the terms of philosophy, by applying them to popular ideas[ ].' and, as to the second part of this objection, upon a late careful revision of the work, i can with confidence say, that it is amazing how few of those words, for which it has been unjustly characterised, are actually to be found in it; i am sure, not the proportion of one to each paper. this idle charge has been echoed from one babbler to another, who have confounded johnson's essays with johnson's _dictionary_; and because he thought it right in a lexicon of our language to collect many words which had fallen into disuse, but were supported by great authorities, it has been imagined that all of these have been interwoven into his own compositions. that some of them have been adopted by him unnecessarily, may, perhaps, be allowed; but, in general they are evidently an advantage, for without them his stately ideas would be confined and cramped. 'he that thinks with more extent than another, will want words of larger meaning[ ].' he once told me, that he had formed his style upon that of sir william temple[ ], and upon chambers's proposal for his _dictionary_[ ]. he certainly was mistaken; or if he imagined at first that he was imitating temple, he was very unsuccessful; for nothing can be more unlike than the simplicity of temple, and the richness of johnson. their styles differ as plain cloth and brocade. temple, indeed, seems equally erroneous in supposing that he himself had formed his style upon sandys's _view of the state of religion in the western parts of the world_. the style of johnson was, undoubtedly, much formed upon that of the great writers in the last century, hooker, bacon, sanderson, hakewell, and others; those 'giants[ ],' as they were well characterised by a great personage[ ], whose authority, were i to name him, would stamp a reverence on the opinion. [page : the motto to the dictionary. a.d. .] we may, with the utmost propriety, apply to his learned style that passage of horace, a part of which he has taken as the motto to his _dictionary_[ ]: 'cum tabulis animum censoris sumet honesti; audebit quaecumque parùm splendoris habebunt et sine pondere erunt, et honore indigna ferentur, verba movere loco, quamvis invita recedant, et versentur adhuc intra penetralia vesta. obscurata diu populo bonus eruet, atque proferet in lucem speciosa vocabula rerum, quae priscis memorala calonibus alque cethegis, nunc situs informis premit et deserta velustas: adsciscet nova, quae genitor produxerit usus: vehemens, et liquidus, puroque simillimus amni, fundet opes latiumque beabit divile linguá.[ ]' [page : johnson not a coiner of words. Ætat .] to so great a master of thinking, to one of such vast and various knowledge as johnson, might have been allowed a liberal indulgence of that licence which horace claims in another place: 'si forté necesse est indiciis monstrare recentibus abdita rerum, fingere cinctutis non exaudita cethegis continget, dabiturque licentia sumpta pudenter: et nova fictaque nuper habebunt verba fidem si græco fonte cadant, parce detorta. quid autem cæcilio plautoque dabit romanus, ademptum virgilio varioque? ego cur, acquirere pauca si possum, invideor; cum lingua catonis et enni sermonem patrium ditaverit, et nova rerum nomina protulerit? licuit semperque licebit signatum præsente notá producere nomen[ ].' yet johnson assured me, that he had not taken upon him to add more than four or five words to the english language, of his own formation[ ]; and he was very much offended at the general licence, by no means 'modestly taken' in his time, not only to coin new words, but to use many words in senses quite different from their established meaning, and those frequently very fantastical[ ]. [page : johnson's influence on style. a.d. .] sir thomas brown[ ], whose life johnson wrote, was remarkably fond of anglo-latian diction; and to his example we are to ascribe johnson's sometimes indulging himself in this kind of phraseology'. johnson's comprehension of mind was the mould for his language. had his conceptions been narrower, his expression would have been easier. his sentences have a dignified march; and, it is certain, that his example has given a general elevation to the language of his country, for many of our best writers have approached very near to him; and, from the influence which he has had upon our composition, scarcely any thing is written now that is not better expressed than was usual before he appeared to lead the national taste. [page : courtenay's lines on johnson's school. Ætat .] this circumstance, the truth of which must strike every critical reader, has been so happily enforced by mr. courtenay, in his _moral and literary character of dr. johnson_, that i cannot prevail on myself to withhold it, notwithstanding his, perhaps, too great partiality for one of his friends: 'by nature's gifts ordain'd mankind to rule, he, like a titian, form'd his brilliant school; and taught congenial spirits to excel, while from his lips impressive wisdom fell. our boasted goldsmith felt the sovereign sway: from him deriv'd the sweet, yet nervous lay. to fame's proud cliff he bade our raphael rise; hence reynolds' pen with reynolds' pencil vies. with johnson's flame melodious burney glows, while the grand strain in smoother cadence flows. and you, malone, to critick learning dear. correct and elegant, refin'd though clear, by studying him, acquir'd that classick taste, which high in shakspeare's fane thy statue plac'd. near johnson steevens stands, on scenick ground, acute, laborious, fertile, and profound. ingenious hawkesworth to this school we owe. and scarce the pupil from the tutor know. here early parts accomplish'd jones sublimes, and science blends with asia's lofty rhymes: harmonious jones! who in his splendid strains sings camdeo's sports, on agra's flowery plains: in hindu fictions while we fondly trace love and the muses, deck'd with attick grace. amid these names can boswell be forgot, scarce by north britons now esteem'd a scot[ ]? who to the sage devoted from his youth, imbib'd from him the sacred love of truth; the keen research, the exercise of mind, and that best art, the art to know mankind.-- nor was his energy confin'd alone to friends around his philosophick throne; _its influence wide improv'd our letter'd isle. and lucid vigour marked the general style_: as nile's proud waves, swoln from their oozy bed. first o'er the neighbouring meads majestick spread; till gathering force, they more and more expand. and with new virtue fertilise the land.' johnson's language, however, must be allowed to be too masculine for the delicate gentleness of female writing. his ladies, therefore, seem strangely formal, even to ridicule; and are well denominated by the names which he has given them as misella[ ], zozima, properantia, rhodoclia. [page : the styles of addison and johnson. a.d. .] it has of late been the fashion to compare the style of addison and johnson, and to depreciate, i think very unjustly, the style of addison as nerveless and feeble[ ], because it has not the strength and energy of that of johnson. their prose may be balanced like the poetry of dryden and pope. both are excellent, though in different ways. addison writes with the ease of a gentleman. his readers fancy that a wise and accomplished companion is talking to them; so that he insinuates his sentiments and taste into their minds by an imperceptible influence. johnson writes like a teacher. he dictates to his readers as if from an academical chair. they attend with awe and admiration; and his precepts are impressed upon them by his commanding eloquence. addison's style, like a light wine, pleases everybody from the first. johnson's, like a liquor of more body, seems too strong at first, but, by degrees, is highly relished; and such is the melody of his periods, so much do they captivate the ear, and seize upon the attention, that there is scarcely any writer, however inconsiderable, who does not aim, in some degree, at the same species of excellence. but let us not ungratefully undervalue that beautiful style, which has pleasingly conveyed to us much instruction and entertainment. though comparatively weak, opposed to johnson's herculean vigour, let us not call it positively feeble. let us remember the character of his style, as given by johnson himself[ ]: 'what he attempted, he performed; he is never feeble, and he did not wish to be energetick; he is never rapid, and he never stagnates. his sentences have neither studied amplitude, nor affected brevity: his periods, though not diligently rounded, are voluble and easy[ ]. whoever wishes to attain an english style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of addison[ ].' [page : boswell's projected works. Ætat .] [page : the last rambler. a.d. .] though the _rambler_ was not concluded till the year , i shall, under this year, say all that i have to observe upon it. some of the translations of the mottos by himself are admirably done. he acknowledges to have received 'elegant translations' of many of them from mr. james elphinston; and some are very happily translated by a mr. _f. lewis_[ ], of whom i never heard more, except that johnson thus described him to mr. malone: 'sir, he lived in london, and hung loose upon society.' the concluding paper of his _rambler_ is at once dignified and pathetick. i cannot, however, but wish that he had not ended it with an unnecessary greek verse, translated also into an english couplet[ ]. it is too much like the conceit of those dramatick poets, who used to conclude each act with a rhyme; and the expression in the first line of his couplet, '_celestial powers_', though proper in pagan poetry, is ill suited to christianity, with 'a conformity[ ]' to which he consoles himself. how much better would it have been, to have ended with the prose sentence 'i shall never envy the honours which wit and learning obtain in any other cause, if i can be numbered among the writers who have given ardour to virtue, and confidence to truth[ ].' his friend, dr. birch, being now engaged in preparing an edition of ralegh's smaller pieces, dr. johnson wrote the following letter to that gentleman: 'to dr. birch. 'gough-square, may , . 'sir, 'knowing that you are now preparing to favour the publick with a new edition of ralegh's[ ] miscellaneous pieces, i have taken the liberty to send you a manuscript, which fell by chance within my notice. i perceive no proofs of forgery in my examination of it; and the owner tells me, that as _he_[ ] has heard, the handwriting is sir walter's. if you should find reason to conclude it genuine, it will be a kindness to the owner, a blind person[ ], to recommend it to the booksellers. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' [page : milton's grand-daughter. Ætat .] [page : lauder's imposition. a.d. .] his just abhorrence of milton's political notions was ever strong. but this did not prevent his warm admiration of milton's great poetical merit, to which he has done illustrious justice, beyond all who have written upon the subject. and this year he not only wrote a prologue, which was spoken by mr. garrick before the acting of _comus_ at drury-lane theatre, for the benefit of milton's grand-daughter, but took a very zealous interest in the success of the charity[ ]. on the day preceding the performance, he published the following letter in the 'general advertiser,' addressed to the printer of that paper: 'sir, 'that a certain degree of reputation is acquired merely by approving the works of genius, and testifying a regard to the memory of authours, is a truth too evident to be denied; and therefore to ensure a participation of fame with a celebrated poet, many who would, perhaps, have contributed to starve him when alive, have heaped expensive pageants upon his grave[ ]. 'it must, indeed, be confessed, that this method of becoming known to posterity with honour, is peculiar to the great, or at least to the wealthy; but an opportunity now offers for almost every individual to secure the praise of paying a just regard to the illustrious dead, united with the pleasure of doing good to the living. to assist industrious indigence, struggling with distress and debilitated by age, is a display of virtue, and an acquisition of happiness and honour. 'whoever, then, would be thought capable of pleasure in reading the works of our incomparable milton, and not so destitute of gratitude as to refuse to lay out a trifle in rational and elegant entertainment, for the benefit of his living remains, for the exercise of their own virtue, the increase of their reputation, and the pleasing consciousness of doing good, should appear at drury-lane theatre to-morrow, april , when _comus_ will be performed for the benefit of mrs. elizabeth foster, grand-daughter to the author, and the only surviving branch of his family. 'n.b. there will be a new prologue on the occasion, written by the author of _irene[ ], and spoken by mr. garrick; and, by particular desire, there will be added to the masque a dramatick satire, called _lethe_, in which mr. garrick will perform.' [page : douglas's milton no plagiary. Ætat .] : Ætat. .--in [ ] we are to consider him as carrying on both his _dictionary_ and _rambler_. but he also wrote _the life of cheynel_[ ],[*] in the miscellany called _the student_; and the reverend dr. douglas having, with uncommon acuteness, clearly detected a gross forgery and imposition upon the publick by william lauder, a scotch schoolmaster, who had, with equal impudence and ingenuity, represented milton as a plagiary from certain modern latin poets, johnson, who had been so far imposed upon as to furnish a preface and postscript to his work, now dictated a letter for lauder, addressed to dr. douglas, acknowledging his fraud in terms of suitable contrition.[ ] [page : johnson tricked by lander. a.d. .] this extraordinary attempt of lauder was no sudden effort. he had brooded over it for many years: and to this hour it is uncertain what his principal motive was, unless it were a vain notion of his superiority, in being able, by whatever means, to deceive mankind. to effect this, he produced certain passages from grotius, masenius, and others, which had a faint resemblance to some parts of the _paradise lost_. in these he interpolated some fragments of hog's latin translation of that poem, alledging that the mass thus fabricated was the archetype from which milton copied.[ ] these fabrications he published from time to time in the _gentleman s magazine_; and, exulting in his fancied success, he in ventured to collect them into a pamphlet, entitled _an essay on milton's use and imitation of the moderns in his paradise lost_. to this pamphlet johnson wrote a preface[ ], in full persuasion of lauder's honesty, and a postscript recommending, in the most persuasive terms[ ], a subscription for the relief of a grand-daughter of milton, of whom he thus speaks: 'it is yet in the power of a great people to reward the poet whose name they boast, and from their alliance to whose genius, they claim some kind of superiority to every other nation of the earth; that poet, whose works may possibly be read when every other monument of british greatness shall be obliterated; to reward him, not with pictures or with medals, which, if he sees, he sees with contempt, but with tokens of gratitude, which he, perhaps, may even now consider as not unworthy the regard of an immortal spirit.' [page : johnson's admiration of milton. Ætat .] surely this is inconsistent with 'enmity towards milton,' which sir john hawkins[ ] imputes to johnson upon this occasion, adding, 'i could all along observe that johnson seemed to approve not only of the design, but of the argument; and seemed to exult in a persuasion, that the reputation of milton was likely to suffer by this discovery. that he was not privy to the imposture, i am well persuaded; but that he wished well to the argument, may be inferred from the preface, which indubitably was written by johnson.' is it possible for any man of clear judgement to suppose that johnson, who so nobly praised the poetical excellence of milton in a postscript to this very 'discovery,' as he then supposed it, could, at the same time, exult in a persuasion that the great poet's reputation was likely to suffer by it? this is an inconsistency of which johnson was incapable; nor can any thing more be fairly inferred from the preface, than that johnson, who was alike distinguished for ardent curiosity and love of truth, was pleased with an investigation by which both were gratified. that he was actuated by these motives, and certainly by no unworthy desire to depreciate our great epick poet, is evident from his own words; for, after mentioning the general zeal of men of genius and literature 'to advance the honour, and distinguish the beauties of _paradise lost_', he says, 'among the inquiries to which this ardour of criticism has naturally given occasion, none is more obscure in itself, or more worthy of rational curiosity, than a retrospect[ ] of the progress of this mighty genius in the construction of his work; a view of the fabrick gradually rising, perhaps, from small beginnings, till its foundation rests in the centre, and its turrets sparkle in the skies; to trace back the structure through all its varieties, to the simplicity of its first plan; to find what was first projected, whence the scheme was taken, how it was improved, by what assistance it was executed, and from what stores the materials were collected; whether its founder dug them from the quarries of nature, or demolished other buildings to embellish his own.' is this the language of one who wished to blast the laurels of milton[ ]? [page : mrs. anna williams. a.d. .] though johnson's circumstances were at this time far from being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. mrs. anna williams, daughter of a very ingenious welsh physician, and a woman of more than ordinary talents and literature, having come to london in hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visitor at his house while mrs. johnson lived; and after her death, having come under his roof in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house[ ]. [page : johnson's pleasure in her company. Ætat .] [page : death of johnson's wife. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in he was almost entirely occupied with his _dictionary_. the last paper of his _rambler_ was published march [ ], this year; after which, there was a cessation for some time of any exertion of his talents as an essayist. but, in the same year, dr. hawkesworth, who was his warm admirer, and a studious imitator of his style[ ], and then lived in great intimacy with him, began a periodical paper, entitled _the adventurer_, in connection with other gentlemen, one of whom was johnson's much-loved friend, dr. bathurst; and, without doubt, they received many valuable hints from his conversation, most of his friends having been so assisted in the course of their works. [page : communications by dreams. Ætat .] that there should be a suspension of his literary labours during a part of the year , will not seem strange, when it is considered that soon after closing his _rambler_, he suffered a loss which, there can be no doubt, affected him with the deepest distress[ ]. for on the th of march, o.s., his wife died. why sir john hawkins should unwarrantably take upon him even to _suppose_ that johnson's fondness for her was _dissembled_ (meaning simulated or assumed,) and to assert, that if it was not the case, 'it was a lesson he had learned by rote[ ],' i cannot conceive; unless it proceeded from a want of similar feelings in his own breast. to argue from her being much older than johnson, or any other circumstances, that he could not really love her, is absurd; for love is not a subject of reasoning, but of feeling, and therefore there are no common principles upon which one can persuade another concerning it. every man feels for himself, and knows how he is affected by particular qualities in the person he admires, the impressions of which are too minute and delicate to be substantiated in language. the following very solemn and affecting prayer was found after dr. johnson's decease, by his servant, mr. francis barber, who delivered it to my worthy friend the reverend mr. strahan[ ], vicar of islington, who at my earnest request has obligingly favoured me with a copy of it, which he and i compared with the original. i present it to the world as an undoubted proof of a circumstance in the character of my illustrious friend, which though some whose hard minds i never shall envy, may attack as superstitious, will i am sure endear him more to numbers of good men[ ]. i have an additional, and that a personal motive for presenting it, because it sanctions what i myself have always maintained and am fond to indulge. 'april , , being after at night of the th. 'o lord! governour of heaven and earth, in whose hands are embodied and departed spirits, if thou hast ordained the souls of the dead to minister to the living, and appointed my departed wife to have care of me, grant that i may enjoy the good effects of her attention and ministration, whether exercised by appearance, impulses, dreams[ ] or in any other manner agreeable to thy government. forgive my presumption, enlighten my ignorance, and however meaner agents are employed, grant me the blessed influences of thy holy spirit, through jesus christ our lord. amen.' [page : johnson's love for his wife. a.d. .] what actually followed upon this most interesting piece of devotion by johnson, we are not informed; but i, whom it has pleased god to afflict in a similar manner to that which occasioned it, have certain experience of benignant communication by dreams[ ]. that his love for his wife was of the most ardent kind, and, during the long period of fifty years, was unimpaired by the lapse of time, is evident from various passages in the series of his _prayers and meditations_, published by the reverend mr. strahan, as well as from other memorials, two of which i select, as strongly marking the tenderness and sensibility of his mind. 'march , . i kept this day[ ] as the anniversary of my tetty's death[ ], with prayer and tears in the morning. in the evening i prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful.' [page : her wedding-ring. Ætat .] 'april , . i know not whether i do not too much indulge the vain longings of affection; but i hope they intenerate my heart, and that when i die like my tetty, this affection will be acknowledged in a happy interview, and that in the mean time i am incited by it to piety. i will, however, not deviate too much from common and received methods of devotion.' her wedding-ring, when she became his wife, was, after her death, preserved by him, as long as he lived, with an affectionate care, in a little round wooden box, in the inside of which he pasted a slip of paper, thus inscribed by him in fair characters, as follows: 'eheu! eliz. johnson, nupta jul. ° , mortua, eheu! mart. ° [ ]. after his death, mr. francis barber, his faithful servant and residuary legatee, offered this memorial of tenderness to mrs. lucy porter, mrs. johnson's daughter; but she having declined to accept of it, he had it enamelled as a mourning ring for his old master, and presented it to his wife, mrs. barber, who now has it. the state of mind in which a man must be upon the death of a woman whom he sincerely loves, had been in his contemplation many years before. in his _irene_, we find the following fervent and tender speech of demetrius, addressed to his aspasia: 'from those bright regions of eternal day, where now thou shin'st amongst thy fellow saints, array'd in purer light, look down on me! in pleasing visions and delusive dreams, o! sooth my soul, and teach me how to lose thee[ ].' [page : the shock of separation. a.d. .] i have, indeed, been told by mrs. desmoulins, who, before her marriage, lived for some time with mrs. johnson at hampstead[ ], that she indulged herself in country air and nice living, at an unsuitable expense[ ], while her husband was drudging in the smoke of london, and that she by no means treated him with that complacency which is the most engaging quality in a wife. but all this is perfectly compatible with his fondness for her, especially when it is remembered that he had a high opinion of her understanding, and that the impressions which her beauty, real or imaginary, had originally made upon his fancy, being continued by habit, had not been effaced, though she herself was doubtless much altered for the worse. the dreadful shock of separation took place in the night; and he immediately dispatched a letter to his friend, the reverend dr. taylor, which, as taylor told me, expressed grief in the strongest manner he had ever read; so that it is much to be regretted it has not been preserved[ ]. the letter was brought to dr. taylor, at his house in the cloisters, westminster, about three in the morning; and as it signified an earnest desire to see him, he got up, and went to johnson as soon as he was dressed, and found him in tears and in extreme agitation. after being a little while together, johnson requested him to join with him in prayer. he then prayed extempore, as did dr. taylor; and thus, by means of that piety which was ever his primary object, his troubled mind was, in some degree, soothed and composed. the next day he wrote as follows: 'to the revernd dr. taylor. dear sir, 'let me have your company and instruction. do not live away from me. my distress is great. 'pray desire mrs. taylor to inform me what mourning i should buy for my mother and miss porter, and bring a note in writing with you. 'remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man. 'i am, dear sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' [page : francis barber. Ætat .] [page : prayers for the dead. a.d. .] that his sufferings upon the death of his wife were severe, beyond what are commonly endured, i have no doubt, from the information of many who were then about him, to none of whom i give more credit than to mr. francis barber, his faithful negro servant[ ], who came into his family about a fortnight after the dismal event. these sufferings were aggravated by the melancholy inherent in his constitution; and although he probably was not oftener in the wrong than she was, in the little disagreements which sometimes troubled his married state[ ], during which, he owned to me, that the gloomy irritability of his existence was more painful to him than ever, he might very naturally, after her death, be tenderly disposed to charge himself with slight omissions and offences, the sense of which would give him much uneasiness[ ]. accordingly we find, about a year after her decease, that he thus addressed the supreme being: 'o lord, who givest the grace of repentance, and hearest the prayers of the penitent, grant that by true contrition i may obtain forgiveness of all the sins committed, and of all duties neglected in my union with the wife whom thou hast taken from me; for the neglect of joint devotion, patient exhortation, and mild instruction[ ].' the kindness of his heart, notwithstanding the impetuosity of his temper, is well known to his friends; and i cannot trace the smallest foundation for the following dark and uncharitable assertion by sir john hawkins: 'the apparition of his departed wife was altogether of the terrifick kind, and hardly afforded him a hope that she was in a state of happiness[ ].' that he, in conformity with the opinion of many of the most able, learned, and pious christians in all ages, supposed that there was a middle state after death, previous to the time at which departed souls are finally received to eternal felicity, appears, i think, unquestionably from his devotions[ ]: 'and, o lord, so far as it may be lawful in me[ ], i commend to thy fatherly goodness _the soul of my departed wife_; beseeching thee to grant her whatever is best in her _present state_, and _finally to receive her to eternal happiness_[ ].' but this state has not been looked upon with horrour, but only as less gracious. [page : the funeral sermon on mrs. johnson. Ætat .] he deposited the remains of mrs. johnson in the church of bromley, in kent[ ], to which he was probably led by the residence of his friend hawkesworth at that place. the funeral sermon which he composed for her, which was never preached, but having been given to dr. taylor, has been published since his death[ ], is a performance of uncommon excellence, and full of rational and pious comfort to such as are depressed by that severe affliction which johnson felt when he wrote it. when it is considered that it was written in such an agitation of mind, and in the short interval between her death and burial, it cannot be read without wonder[ ]. from mr. francis barber i have had the following authentick and artless account of the situation in which he found him recently after his wife's death: [page : johnson's friends in .] he was in great affliction. mrs. williams was then living in his house, which was in gough-square. he was busy with the dictionary. mr. shiels, and some others of the gentlemen who had formerly written for him, used to come about him. he had then little for himself, but frequently sent money to mr. shiels when in distress[ ]. the friends who visited him at that time, were chiefly dr. bathurst[ ], and mr. diamond, an apothecary in cork-street, burlington-gardens, with whom he and mrs. williams generally dined every sunday. there was a talk of his going to iceland with him, which would probably have happened had he lived. there were also mr. cave, dr. hawkesworth, mr. ryland[ ], merchant on tower hill, mrs. masters, the poetess[ ], who lived with mr. cave, mrs. carter, and sometimes mrs. macaulay[ ], also mrs. gardiner, wife of a tallow-chandler on snow-hill, not in the learned way, but a worthy good woman[ ]; mr. (now sir joshua) reynolds[ ]; mr. millar, mr. dodsley, mr. bouquet, mr. payne of paternoster-row, booksellers; mr. strahan, the printer; the earl of orrery[ ], lord southwell[ ], mr. garrick. [page : robert levet. Ætat .] many are, no doubt, omitted in this catalogue of his friends, and, in particular, his humble friend mr. robert levet, an obscure practiser in physick amongst the lower people, his fees being sometimes very small sums, sometimes whatever provisions his patients could afford him; but of such extensive practice in that way, that mrs. williams has told me, his walk was from hounsditch to marybone. it appears from johnson's diary that their acquaintance commenced about the year ; and such was johnson's predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate abilities, that i have heard him say he should not be satisfied, though attended by all the college of physicians, unless he had mr. levet with him. ever since i was acquainted with dr. johnson, and many years before, as i have been assured by those who knew him earlier, mr. levet had an apartment in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious breakfast. he was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while any company was present[ ]. [page : sir joshua reynolds. a.d. .] [page : one of 'dr. johnson's school.' Ætat .] the circle of his friends, indeed, at this time was extensive and various, far beyond what has been generally imagined. to trace his acquaintance with each particular person, if it could be done, would be a task, of which the labour would not be repaid by the advantage. but exceptions are to be made; one of which must be a friend so eminent as sir joshua reynolds, who was truly his _dulce decus_[ ], and with whom he maintained an uninterrupted intimacy to the last hour of his life. when johnson lived in castle-street, cavendish-square, he used frequently to visit two ladies, who lived opposite to him, miss cotterells, daughters of admiral cotterell. reynolds used also to visit there, and thus they met[ ]. mr. reynolds, as i have observed above[ ], had, from the first reading of his _life of savage_, conceived a very high admiration of johnson's powers of writing. his conversation no less delighted him; and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement[ ]. sir joshua, indeed, was lucky enough at their very first meeting to make a remark, which was so much above the common-place style of conversation, that johnson at once perceived that reynolds had the habit of thinking for himself. the ladies were regretting the death of a friend, to whom they owed great obligations; upon which reynolds observed, 'you have, however, the comfort of being relieved from a burthen of gratitude[ ].' they were shocked a little at this alleviating suggestion, as too selfish; but johnson defended it in his clear and forcible manner, and was much pleased with the _mind_, the fair view of human nature, which it exhibited, like some of the reflections of rochefaucault. the consequence was, that he went home with reynolds, and supped with him. [page : the miss cotterells. a.d. .] sir joshua told me a pleasant characteristical anecdote of johnson about the time of their first acquaintance. when they were one evening together at the miss cotterells', the then duchess of argyle and another lady of high rank came in. johnson thinking that the miss cotterells were too much engrossed by them, and that he and his friend were neglected, as low company of whom they were somewhat ashamed, grew angry; and resolving to shock their supposed pride, by making their great visitors imagine that his friend and he were low indeed, he addressed himself in a loud tone to mr. reynolds, saying, 'how much do you think you and i could get in a week, if we were to _work as hard_ as we could?'--as if they had been common mechanicks[ ]. [page : bennet langton. Ætat .] his acquaintance with bennet langton, esq. of langton, in lincolnshire, another much valued friend, commenced soon after the conclusion of his _rambler_; which that gentleman, then a youth, had read with so much admiration, that he came to london chiefly with the view of endeavouring to be introduced to its authour[ ]. by a fortunate chance he happened to take lodgings in a house where mr. levet frequently visited; and having mentioned his wish to his landlady, she introduced him to mr. levet, who readily obtained johnson's permission to bring mr. langton to him[ ]; as, indeed, johnson, during the whole course of his life, had no shyness, real or affected, but was easy of access to all who were properly recommended, and even wished to see numbers at his _levee_[ ], as his morning circle of company might, with strict propriety, be called. mr. langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared. he had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. from perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-drest, in short, a remarkably decorous philosopher. instead of which, down from his bedchamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. but his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so congenial with those in which langton had been educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which he ever preserved. johnson was not the less ready to love mr. langton, for his being of a very ancient family; for i have heard him say, with pleasure, 'langton, sir, has a grant of free warren from henry the second; and cardinal stephen langton, in king john's reign, was of this family[ ].' [page : topham beauclerk. a.d. .] mr. langton afterwards went to pursue his studies at trinity college, oxford, where he formed an acquaintance with his fellow student, mr. topham beauclerk[ ]; who, though their opinions and modes of life were so different, that it seemed utterly improbable that they should at all agree, had so ardent a love of literature, so acute an understanding, such elegance of manners, and so well discerned the excellent qualities of mr. langton, a gentleman eminent not only for worth and learning, but for an inexhaustible fund of entertaining conversation[ ], that they became intimate friends. [page : topham beauclerk. Ætat .] johnson, soon after this acquaintance began, passed a considerable time at oxford[ ]. he at first thought it strange that langton should associate so much with one who had the character of being loose, both in his principles and practice; but, by degrees, he himself was fascinated. mr. beauclerk's being of the st. alban's family, and having, in some particulars, a resemblance to charles the second, contributed, in johnson's imagination, to throw a lustre upon his other qualities[ ]; and, in a short time, the moral, pious johnson, and the gay, dissipated beauclerk, were companions. 'what a coalition! (said garrick, when he heard of this;) i shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house[ ].' but i can bear testimony that it was a very agreeable association. beauclerk was too polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to offend johnson by sallies of infidelity or licentiousness; and johnson delighted in the good qualities of beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. innumerable were the scenes in which johnson was amused by these young men. beauclerk could take more liberty with him, than any body with whom i ever saw him; but, on the other hand, beauclerk was not spared by his respectable companion, when reproof was proper. beauclerk had such a propensity to satire, that at one time johnson said to him, 'you never open your mouth but with intention to give pain; and you have often given me pain, not from the power of what you said, but from seeing your intention.' at another time applying to him, with a slight alteration, a line of pope, he said, 'thy love of folly, and thy scorn of fools.[ ] 'every thing thou dost shews the one, and every thing thou say'st the other.' at another time he said to him, 'thy body is all vice, and thy mind all virtue.' beauclerk not seeming to relish the compliment, johnson said, 'nay, sir, alexander the great, marching in triumph into babylon, could not have desired to have had more said to him.' [page : johnson the idle apprentice. a.d. .] johnson was some time with beauclerk at his house at windsor, where he was entertained with experiments in natural philosophy[ ]. one sunday, when the weather was very fine, beauclerk enticed him, insensibly, to saunter about all the morning. they went into a church-yard, in the time of divine service, and johnson laid himself down at his ease upon one of the tomb-stones. 'now, sir, (said beauclerk) you are like hogarth's idle apprentice.' when johnson got his pension, beauclerk said to him, in the humorous phrase of falstaff, 'i hope you'll now purge and live cleanly like a gentleman[ ].' [page : a frisk with beuclerk and langton. Ætat .] one night when beauclerk and langton had supped at a tavern in london, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to go and knock up johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. they rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to attack him. when he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good humour agreed to their proposal: 'what, is it you, you dogs! i'll have a frisk with you.' he was soon drest, and they sallied forth together into covent-garden, where the greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. johnson made some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. they then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called "_bishop_"[ ], which johnson had always liked; while in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated the festive lines, 'short, o short then be thy reign, and give us to the world again!'[ ] they did not stay long, but walked down to the thames, took a boat, and rowed to billingsgate. beauclerk and johnson were so well pleased with their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: but langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young ladies. johnson scolded him for 'leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched _un-idea'd_ girls.' garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, 'i heard of your frolick t'other night. you'll be in the chronicle.' upon which johnson afterwards observed, '_he_ durst not do such a thing. his _wife_ would not _let_ him!' [page : the adventurer. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--he entered upon this year with his usual piety, as appears from the following prayer, which i transcribed from that part of his diary which he burnt a few days before his death[ ]: 'jan. , , n. s. which i shall use for the future. 'almighty god, who hast continued my life to this day, grant that, by the assistance of thy holy spirit, i may improve the time which thou shall grant me, to my eternal salvation. make me to remember, to thy glory, thy judgements and thy mercies. make me so to consider the loss of my wife, whom thou hast taken from me, that it may dispose me, by thy grace, to lead the residue of my life in thy fear. grant this, o lord, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' he now relieved the drudgery of his _dictionary_, and the melancholy of his grief, by taking an active part in the composition of _the adventurer_, in which he began to write april [ ], marking his essays with the signature t[ ], by which most of his papers in that collection are distinguished: those, however, which have that signature and also that of _mysargyrus_, were not written by him, but, as i suppose, by dr. bathurst. indeed johnson's energy of thought and richness of language, are still more decisive marks than any signature. as a proof of this, my readers, i imagine, will not doubt that number , on sleep, is his; for it not only has the general texture and colour of his style, but the authours with whom he was peculiarly conversant are readily introduced in it in cursory allusion. the translation of a passage in statius[ ] quoted in that paper, and marked c. b. has been erroneously ascribed to dr. bathurst, whose christian name was richard. how much this amiable man actually contributed to _the adventurer_, cannot be known. let me add, that hawkesworth's imitations of johnson are sometimes so happy, that it is extremely difficult to distinguish them, with certainty, from the compositions of his great archetype. hawkesworth was his closest imitator, a circumstance of which that writer would once have been proud to be told; though, when he had become elated by having risen into some degree of consequence, he, in a conversation with me, had the provoking effrontery to say he was not sensible of it[ ]. [page : a letter to dr. warton. Ætat .] johnson was truly zealous for the success of _the adventurer_; and very soon after his engaging in it, he wrote the following letter: 'to the reverend dr. joseph warton. 'dear sir, 'i ought to have written to you before now, but i ought to do many things which i do not; nor can i, indeed, claim any merit from this letter; for being desired by the authours and proprietor of _the adventurer_ to look out for another hand, my thoughts necessarily fixed upon you, whose fund of literature will enable you to assist them, with very little interruption of your studies. 'they desire you to engage to furnish one paper a month, at two guineas a paper, which you may very readily perform. we have considered that a paper should consist of pieces of imagination, pictures of life, and disquisitions of literature. the part which depends on the imagination is very well supplied, as you will find when you read the paper; for descriptions of life, there is now a treaty almost made with an authour and an authouress; and the province of criticism and literature they are very desirous to assign to the commentator on virgil. 'i hope this proposal will not be rejected, and that the next post will bring us your compliance. i speak as one of the fraternity, though i have no part in the paper, beyond now and then a motto; but two of the writers are my particular friends, and i hope the pleasure of seeing a third united to them, will not be denied to, dear sir, 'your most obedient, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' the consequence of this letter was, dr. warton's enriching the collection with several admirable essays. [page : bathurst's papers in the adventurer. a.d. .] johnson's saying 'i have no part in the paper beyond now and then a motto,' may seem inconsistent with his being the authour of the papers marked t. but he had, at this time, written only one number[ ]; and besides, even at any after period, he might have used the same expression, considering it as a point of honour not to own them; for mrs. williams told me that, 'as he had _given_ those essays to dr. bathurst, who sold them at two guineas each, he never would own them; nay, he used to say he did not _write_ them: but the fact was, that he _dictated_ them, while bathurst wrote.' i read to him mrs. williams's account; he smiled, and said nothing[ ]. [page : mrs. lennox. Ætat .] i am not quite satisfied with the casuistry by which the productions of one person are thus passed upon the world for the productions of another. i allow that not only knowledge, but powers and qualities of mind may be communicated; but the actual effect of individual exertion never can be transferred, with truth, to any other than its own original cause. one person's child may be made the child of another person by adoption, as among the romans, or by the ancient jewish mode of a wife having children born to her upon her knees, by her handmaid. but these were children in a different sense from that of nature. it was clearly understood that they were not of the blood of their nominal parents. so in literary children, an authour may give the profits and fame of his composition to another man, but cannot make that other the real authour. a highland gentleman, a younger branch of a family, once consulted me if he could not validly purchase the chieftainship of his family, from the chief who was willing to sell it. i told him it was impossible for him to acquire, by purchase, a right to be a different person from what he really was; for that the right of chieftainship attached to the blood of primogeniture, and, therefore, was incapable of being transferred. i added, that though esau sold his birth-right, or the advantages belonging to it, he still remained the first-born of his parents; and that whatever agreement a chief might make with any of the clan, the herald's office could not admit of the metamorphosis, or with any decency attest that the younger was the elder; but i did not convince the worthy gentleman. johnson's papers in _the adventurer_ are very similar to those of _the rambler_; but being rather more varied in their subjects, and being mixed with essays by other writers, upon topicks more generally attractive than even the most elegant ethical discourses, the sale of the work, at first, was more extensive. without meaning, however, to depreciate _the adventurer_, i must observe that as the value of _the rambler_ came, in the progress of time, to be better known, it grew upon the publick estimation, and that its sale has far exceeded that of any other periodical papers since the reign of queen anne. in one of the books of his diary i find the following entry: 'apr. , . i began the second vol. of my dictionary, room being left in the first for preface, grammar, and history, none of them yet begun. 'o god, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present state; that when i shall render up, at the last day, an account of the talent committed to me, i may receive pardon, for the sake of jesus christ. amen.' he this year favoured mrs. lennox[ ] with a dedication[*] to the earl of orrery, of her _shakspeare illustrated_. [page : the life of edward cave. a.d. .] : Ætat. .--in i can trace nothing published by him, except his numbers of _the adventurer_, and 'the life of edward cave,'[*] in the _gentleman's magazine_ for february. in biography there can be no question that he excelled, beyond all who have attempted that species of composition; upon which, indeed, he set the highest value. to the minute selection of characteristical circumstances, for which the ancients were remarkable, he added a philosophical research, and the most perspicuous and energetick language. cave was certainly a man of estimable qualities, and was eminently diligent and successful in his own business[ ], which, doubtless, entitled him to respect. but he was peculiarly fortunate in being recorded by johnson, who, of the narrow life of a printer and publisher, without any digressions or adventitious circumstances, has made an interesting and agreeable narrative[ ]. the _dictionary_, we may believe, afforded johnson full occupation this year. as it approached to its conclusion, he probably worked with redoubled vigour, as seamen increase their exertion and alacrity when they have a near prospect of their haven. [page : lord chesterfield's neglect.] [page : lord chesterfield's flattery. a.d. .] lord chesterfield, to whom johnson had paid the high compliment of addressing to his lordship the _plan_ of his _dictionary_, had behaved to him in such a manner as to excite his contempt and indignation. the world has been for many years amused with a story confidently told, and as confidently repeated with additional circumstances[ ], that a sudden disgust was taken by johnson upon occasion of his having been one day kept long in waiting in his lordship's antechamber, for which the reason assigned was, that he had company with him; and that at last, when the door opened, out walked colley gibber; and that johnson was so violently provoked when he found for whom he had been so long excluded, that he went away in a passion, and never would return. i remember having mentioned this story to george lord lyttelton, who told me, he was very intimate with lord chesterfield; and holding it as a well-known truth, defended lord chesterfield, by saying, that 'gibber, who had been introduced, familiarly by the back-stairs, had probably not been there above ten minutes.' it may seem strange even to entertain a doubt concerning a story so long and so widely current, and thus implicitly adopted, if not sanctioned, by the authority which i have mentioned; but johnson himself assured me, that there was not the least foundation for it. he told me, that there never was any particular incident which produced a quarrel between lord chesterfield and him; but that his lordship's continued neglect was the reason why he resolved to have no connection with him[ ]. when the _dictionary_ was upon the eve of publication, lord chesterfield, who, it is said, had flattered himself with expectations that johnson would dedicate the work to him[ ], attempted, in a courtly manner, to sooth, and insinuate himself with the sage, conscious, as it should seem, of the cold indifference with which he had treated its learned authour; and further attempted to conciliate him, by writing two papers in _the world_[ ], in recommendation of the work; and it must be confessed, that they contain some studied compliments, so finely turned, that if there had been no previous offence, it is probable that johnson would have been highly delighted[ ]. praise, in general, was pleasing to him; but by praise from a man of rank and elegant accomplishments, he was peculiarly gratified. his lordship says, 'i think the publick in general, and the republick of letters in particular, are greatly obliged to mr. johnson, for having undertaken, and executed, so great and desirable a work. perfection is not to be expected from man; but if we are to judge by the various works of johnson[ ] already published, we have good reason to believe, that he will bring this as near to perfection as any man could do. the _plan_ of it, which he published some years ago, seems to me to be a proof of it. nothing can be more rationally imagined, or more accurately and elegantly expressed. i therefore recommend the previous perusal of it to all those who intend to buy the _dictionary,_ and who, i suppose, are all those who can afford it.' * * * * * 'it must be owned, that our language is, at present, in a state of anarchy, and hitherto, perhaps, it may not have been the worse for it. during our free and open trade, many words and expressions have been imported, adopted, and naturalized from other languages, which have greatly enriched our own. let it still preserve what real strength and beauty it may have borrowed from others; but let it not, like the tarpeian maid, be overwhelmed and crushed by unnecessary ornaments[ ]. the time for discrimination seems to be now come. [page : lord chesterfield's flattery. Ætat .] 'toleration, adoption, and naturalization have run their lengths. good order and authority are now necessary. but where shall we find them, and, at the same time, the obedience due to them? we must have recourse to the old roman expedient in times of confusion, and chuse a dictator. upon this principle, i give my vote for mr. johnson to fill that great and arduous post. and i hereby declare, that i make a total surrender of all my rights and privileges in the english language, as a free-born british subject, to the said mr. johnson, during the term of his dictatorship. nay more, i will not only obey him, like an old roman, as my dictator, but, like a modern roman, i will implicitly believe in him as my pope, and hold him to be infallible while in the chair, but no longer. more than this he cannot well require; for, i presume, that obedience can never be expected, when there is neither terrour to enforce, nor interest to invite it.' * * * * * 'but a grammar, a dictionary, and a history of our language through its several stages, were still wanting at home, and importunately called for from abroad. mr. johnson's labours will now, i dare say[ ], very fully supply that want, and greatly contribute to the farther spreading of our language in other countries. learners were discouraged, by finding no standard to resort to; and, consequently, thought it incapable of any. they will now be undeceived and encouraged.' this courtly device failed of its effect[ ]. johnson, who thought that 'all was false and hollow[ ],' despised the honeyed words, and was even indignant that lord chesterfield should, for a moment, imagine that he could be the dupe of such an artifice. his expression to me concerning lord chesterfield, upon this occasion, was, 'sir, after making great professions[ ], he had, for many years, taken no notice of me; but when my _dictionary_ was coming out, he fell a scribbling in _the world_ about it. upon which, i wrote him a letter expressed in civil terms, but such as might shew him that i did not mind what he said or wrote, and that i had done with him[ ].' [page : johnson's spelling. a.d. .] this is that celebrated letter of which so much has been said, and about which curiosity has been so long excited, without being gratified. i for many years solicited johnson to favour me with a copy of it[ ], that so excellent a composition might not be lost to posterity. he delayed from time to time to give it me[ ]; till at last in , when we were on a visit at mr. dilly's, at southill in bedfordshire, he was pleased to dictate it to me from memory[ ]. he afterwards found among his papers a copy of it, which he had dictated to mr. baretti, with its title and corrections, in his own handwriting. this he gave to mr. langton; adding that if it were to come into print, he wished it to be from that copy. by mr. langton's kindness, i am enabled to enrich my work with a perfect transcript[ ] of what the world has so eagerly desired to see. [page : johnson's letter to lord chesterfield. Ætat .] 'to the right honourable the earl of chesterfield. 'february , . 'my lord, 'i have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the world, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your lordship. to be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, i know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. 'when, upon some slight encouragement, i first visited your lordship, i was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that i might boast myself _le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_[ ];--that i might obtain that regard for which i saw the world contending; but i found my attendance so little encouraged, that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. when i had once addressed your lordship in publick, i had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. i had done all that i could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. 'seven years, my lord, have now past, since i waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time i have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance[ ], one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect, for i never had a patron before. 'the shepherd in virgil grew at last acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks. 'is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it[ ]; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself. [page : his high opinion of warburton. Ætat .] 'having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning[ ], i shall not be disappointed though i should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for i have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which i once boasted myself with so much exultation. 'my lord, 'your lordship's most humble, 'most obedient servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'while this was the talk of the town, (says dr. adams, in a letter to me) i happened to visit dr. warburton, who finding that i was acquainted with johnson, desired me earnestly to carry his compliments to him, and to tell him, that he honoured him for his manly behaviour in rejecting these condescensions of lord chesterfield, and for resenting the treatment he had received from him, with a proper spirit. johnson was visibly pleased with this compliment, for he had always a high opinion of warburton[ ]. indeed, the force of mind which appeared in this letter, was congenial with that which warburton himself amply possessed[ ].' [page : for 'garret' read 'patron.' a.d. .] there is a curious minute circumstance which struck me, in comparing the various editions of johnson's imitations of juvenal. in the tenth satire, one of the couplets upon the vanity of wishes even for literary distinction stood thus: 'yet think[ ] what ills the scholar's life assail, 'pride[ ], envy, want, the _garret_, and the jail.' but after experiencing the uneasiness which lord chesterfield's fallacious patronage made him feel, he dismissed the word _garret_ from the sad group, and in all the subsequent editions the line stands 'pride, envy, want, the _patron_[ ], and the jail.' [page : defensive pride. Ætat .] that lord chesterfield must have been mortified by the lofty contempt, and polite, yet keen satire with which johnson exhibited him to himself in this letter, it is impossible to doubt. he, however, with that glossy duplicity which was his constant study, affected to be quite unconcerned. dr. adams mentioned to mr. robert dodsley that he was sorry johnson had written his letter to lord chesterfield. dodsley, with the true feelings of trade, said 'he was very sorry too; for that he had a property in the _dictionary_, to which his lordship's patronage might have been of consequence.' he then told dr. adams, that lord chesterfield had shewn him the letter. 'i should have imagined (replied dr. adams) that lord chesterfield would have concealed it.' 'poh! (said dodsley) do you think a letter from johnson could hurt lord chesterfield? not at all, sir. it lay upon his table, where any body might see it. he read it to me; said, "this man has great powers," pointed out the severest passages, and observed how well they were expressed.' this air of indifference, which imposed upon the worthy dodsley, was certainly nothing but a specimen of that dissimulation which lord chesterfield inculcated as one of the most essential lessons for the conduct of life[ ]. his lordship endeavoured to justify himself to dodsley from the charges brought against him by johnson; but we may judge of the flimsiness of his defence, from his having excused his neglect of johnson, by saying that 'he had heard he had changed his lodgings, and did not know where he lived;' as if there could have been the smallest difficulty to inform himself of that circumstance, by inquiring in the literary circle with which his lordship was well acquainted, and was, indeed, himself one of its ornaments. dr. adams expostulated with johnson, and suggested, that his not being admitted when he called on him, was, probably, not to be imputed to lord chesterfield; for his lordship had declared to dodsley, that 'he would have turned off the best servant he ever had, if he had known that he denied him to a man who would have been always more than welcome;' and, in confirmation of this, he insisted on lord chesterfield's general affability and easiness of access, especially to literary men. 'sir, (said johnson) that is not lord chesterfield; he is the proudest man this day existing[ ].' 'no, (said dr. adams) there is one person, at least, as proud; i think, by your own account, you are the prouder man of the two.' 'but mine (replied johnson, instantly) was defensive pride.' this, as dr. adams well observed, was one of those happy turns for which he was so remarkably ready. [page : a wit among lords. a.d. .] johnson having now explicitly avowed his opinion of lord chesterfield, did not refrain from expressing himself concerning that nobleman with pointed freedom: 'this man (said he) i thought had been a lord among wits; but, i find, he is only a wit among lords![ ]' and when his _letters_ to his natural son were published, he observed, that 'they teach the morals of a whore, and the manners of a dancing master.[ ]' [page : chesterfield's respectable hottentot. Ætat .] the character of 'a respectable hottentot,' in lord chesterfield's letters[ ], has been generally understood to be meant for johnson, and i have no doubt that it was. but i remember when the _literary property_ of those letters was contested in the court of session in scotland, and mr. henry dundas[ ], one of the counsel for the proprietors, read this character as an exhibition of johnson, sir david dalrymple, lord hailes, one of the judges, maintained, with some warmth, that it was not intended as a portrait of johnson, but of a late noble lord, distinguished for abstruse science[ ]. i have heard johnson himself talk of the character, and say that it was meant for george lord lyttelton, in which i could by no means agree; for his lordship had nothing of that violence which is a conspicuous feature in the composition. finding that my illustrious friend could bear to have it supposed that it might be meant for him, i said, laughingly, that there was one trait which unquestionably did not belong to him; 'he throws his meat any where but down his throat.' 'sir, (said he,) lord chesterfield never saw me eat in his life[ ].' [page : a beggarly scotchman. a.d. .] on the th of march came out lord bolingbroke's works, published by mr. david mallet[ ]. the wild and pernicious ravings, under the name of _philosophy_, which were thus ushered into the world, gave great offence to all well-principled men. johnson, hearing of their tendency[ ], which nobody disputed, was roused with a just indignation, and pronounced this memorable sentence upon the noble authour and his editor. 'sir, he was a scoundrel, and a coward[ ]: a scoundrel, for charging a blunderbuss against religion and morality; a coward, because he had not resolution to fire it off himself, but left half a crown to a beggarly scotchman, to draw the trigger after his death[ ]!' garrick, who i can attest from my own knowledge, had his mind seasoned with pious reverence, and sincerely disapproved of the infidel writings of several, whom, in the course of his almost universal gay intercourse with men of eminence, he treated with external civility, distinguished himself upon this occasion. mr. pelham having died on the very day on which lord bolingbroke's works came out, he wrote an elegant ode on his death, beginning 'let others hail the rising sun, i bow to that whose course is run;' in which is the following stanza: 'the same sad morn, to church and state (so for our sins 'twas fix'd by fate,) a double stroke was given; black as the whirlwinds of the north, st. john's fell genius issued forth, and pelham fled to heaven[ ].' [page : thomas warton. a.d. .] johnson this year found an interval of leisure to make an excursion to oxford, for the purpose of consulting the libraries there. of this, and of many interesting circumstances concerning him, during a part of his life when he conversed but little with the world, i am enabled to give a particular account, by the liberal communications of the reverend mr. thomas warton[ ], who obligingly furnished me with several of our common friend's letters, which he illustrated with notes. these i shall insert in their proper places. 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'sir, 'it is but an ill return for the book with which you were pleased to favour me[ ], to have delayed my thanks for it till now. i am too apt to be negligent; but i can never deliberately shew my disrespect to a man of your character: and i now pay you a very honest acknowledgement, for the advancement of the literature of our native country. you have shewn to all, who shall hereafter attempt the study of our ancient authours, the way to success; by directing them to the perusal of the books which those authours had read. of this method, hughes[ ] and men much greater than hughes, seem never to have thought. the reason why the authours, which are yet read, of the sixteenth century, are so little understood, is, that they are read alone; and no help is borrowed from those who lived with them, or before them. some part of this ignorance i hope to remove by my book[ ], which now draws towards its end; but which i cannot finish to my mind, without visiting the libraries at oxford, which i, therefore, hope to see in a fortnight[ ]. i know not how long i shall stay, or where i shall lodge: but shall be sure to look for you at my arrival, and we shall easily settle the rest. i am, dear sir, 'your most obedient, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london] july , .' [page : johnson's visit to oxford. Ætat .] of his conversation while at oxford at this time, mr. warton preserved and communicated to me the following memorial, which, though not written with all the care and attention which that learned and elegant writer bestowed on those compositions which he intended for the publick eye, is so happily expressed in an easy style, that i should injure it by any alteration: 'when johnson came to oxford in [ ], the long vacation was beginning, and most people were leaving the place. this was the first time of his being there, after quitting the university. the next morning after his arrival, he wished to see his old college, _pembroke_. i went with him. he was highly pleased to find all the college-servants[ ] which he had left there still remaining, particularly a very old butler[ ]; and expressed great satisfaction at being recognised by them, and conversed with them familiarly. he waited on the master, dr. radcliffe, who received him very coldly. johnson at least expected, that the master would order a copy of his dictionary, now near publication: but the master did not choose to talk on the subject, never asked johnson to dine, nor even to visit him, while he stayed at oxford. after we had left the lodgings, johnson said to me, "_there_ lives a man, who lives by the revenues of literature, and will not move a finger to support it. if i come to live at oxford, i shall take up my abode at trinity." we then called on the reverend mr. meeke, one of the fellows, and of johnson's standing. here was a most cordial greeting on both sides. on leaving him, johnson said, "i used to think meeke had excellent parts, when we were boys together at the college: but, alas! '"lost in a convent's solitary gloom[ ]!" '"i remember, at the classical lecture in the hall, i could not bear meeke's superiority, and i tried to sit as far from him as i could, that i might not hear him construe." [page : stories of old college days. a.d. .] 'as we were leaving the college, he said, "here i translated pope's messiah. which do you think is the best line in it?--my own favourite is, '_vallis aromalicas fundit saronica nubes_[ ].'" 'i told him, i thought it a very sonorous hexameter. i did not tell him, it was not in the virgilian style[ ]. he much regretted that his _first_ tutor[ ] was dead; for whom he seemed to retain the greatest regard. he said, "i once had been a whole morning sliding in christ-church meadow, and missed his lecture in logick. after dinner, he sent for me to his room. i expected a sharp rebuke for my idleness, and went with a beating heart. when we were seated, he told me he had sent for me to drink a glass of wine with him, and to tell me, he was _not_ angry with me for missing his lecture. this was, in fact, a most severe reprimand. some more of the boys were then sent for, and we spent a very pleasant afternoon." besides mr. meeke, there was only one other fellow of pembroke now resident: from both of whom johnson received the greatest civilities during this visit, and they pressed him very much to have a room in the college. 'in the course of this visit ( ,) johnson and i walked, three or four times, to ellsfield, a village beautifully situated about three miles from oxford, to see mr. wise, radclivian librarian, with whom johnson was much pleased. at this place, mr. wise had fitted up a house and gardens, in a singular manner, but with great taste. here was an excellent library; particularly, a valuable collection of books in northern literature, with which johnson was often very busy. one day mr. wise read to us a dissertation which he was preparing for the press, intitled, "a history and chronology of the fabulous ages." some old divinities of thrace, related to the titans, and called the cabiri, made a very important part of the theory of this piece; and in conversation afterwards, mr. wise talked much of his cabiri. as we returned to oxford in the evening, i out-walked johnson, and he cried out _suffiamina_, a latin word which came from his mouth with peculiar grace, and was as much as to say, _put on your drag chain_. before we got home, i again walked too fast for him; and he now cried out, "why, you walk as if you were pursued by all the cabiri in a body." in an evening, we frequently took long walks from oxford into the country, returning to supper. once, in our way home, we viewed the ruins of the abbies of oseney and rewley, near oxford. after at least half an hour's silence, johnson said, "i viewed them with indignation[ ]!" we had then a long conversation on gothick buildings; and in talking of the form of old halls, he said, "in these halls, the fire place was anciently always in the middle of the room[ ], till the whigs removed it on one side."--about this time there had been an execution of two or three criminals at oxford on a monday. soon afterwards, one day at dinner, i was saying that mr. swinton the chaplain of the gaol, and also a frequent preacher before the university, a learned man, but often thoughtless and absent, preached the condemnation-sermon on repentance, before the convicts, on the preceding day, sunday; and that in the close he told his audience, that he should give them the remainder of what he had to say on the subject, the next lord's day. upon which, one of our company, a doctor of divinity, and a plain matter-of-fact man, by way of offering an apology for mr. swinton, gravely remarked, that he had probably preached the same sermon before the university: "yes, sir, (says johnson) but the university were not to be hanged the next morning." [page : rev. mr. meeke. a.d. ] 'i forgot to observe before, that when he left mr. meeke, (as i have told above) he added, "about the same time of life, meeke was left behind at oxford to feed on a fellowship, and i went to london to get my living: now, sir, see the difference of our literary characters!"' the following letter was written by dr. johnson to mr. chambers, of lincoln college, afterwards sir robert chambers, one of the judges in india[ ]: 'to mr. chambers of lincoln college. 'dear sir, 'the commission which i delayed to trouble you with at your departure, i am now obliged to send you; and beg that you will be so kind as to carry it to mr. warton, of trinity, to whom i should have written immediately, but that i know not if he be yet come back to oxford. 'in the catalogue of mss. of gr. brit, see vol. i. pag. . mss. bodl. martyrium xv. _martyrum sub juliano, auctore theophylacto_. 'it is desired that mr. warton will inquire, and send word, what will be the cost of transcribing this manuscript. 'vol. ii, pag. . num. . . coll. nov.--_commentaria in acta apostol.--comment. in septem epistolas catholicas_. 'he is desired to tell what is the age of each of these manuscripts: and what it will cost to have a transcript of the two first pages of each. 'if mr. warton be not in oxford, you may try if you can get it done by any body else; or stay till he comes, according to your own convenience. it is for an italian _literato_. 'the answer is to be directed to his excellency mr. zon, venetian resident, soho square. 'i hope, dear sir, that you do not regret the change of london for oxford. mr. baretti is well, and miss williams[ ]; and we shall all be glad to hear from you, whenever you shall be so kind as to write to, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , .' [page : johnson desires the degree of m.a. Ætat .] the degree of master of arts, which, it has been observed[ ], could not be obtained for him at an early period of his life, was now considered as an honour of considerable importance, in order to grace the title-page of his _dictionary_; and his character in the literary world being by this time deservedly high, his friends thought that, if proper exertions were made, the university of oxford would pay him the compliment[ ]. 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'i am extremely obliged to you and to mr. wise, for the uncommon care which you have taken of my interest[ ]: if you can accomplish your kind design, i shall certainly take me a little habitation among you. 'the books which i promised to mr. wise[ ], i have not been able to procure: but i shall send him a _finnick dictionary_, the only copy, perhaps, in england, which was presented me by a learned swede: but i keep it back, that it may make a set of my own books[ ] of the new edition, with which i shall accompany it, more welcome. you will assure him of my gratitude. [page : collins the poet. a.d. .] 'poor dear collins[ ]!--would a letter give him any pleasure? i have a mind to write. 'i am glad of your hindrance in your spenserian design[ ], yet i would not have it delayed. three hours a day stolen from sleep and amusement will produce it. let a servitour[ ] transcribe the quotations, and interleave them with references, to save time. this will shorten the work, and lessen the fatigue. 'can i do any thing to promoting the diploma? i would not be wanting to co-operate with your kindness; of which, whatever be the effect, i shall be, dear sir, 'your most obliged, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] nov. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i am extremely sensible of the favour done me, both by mr. wise and yourself. the book[ ] cannot, i think, be printed in less than six weeks, nor probably so soon; and i will keep back the title-page, for such an insertion as you seem to promise me. be pleased to let me know what money i shall send you, for bearing the expence of the affair; and i will take care that you may have it ready at your hand. [page : the death of a wife. Ætat .] 'i had lately the favour of a letter from your brother, with some account of poor collins, for whom i am much concerned. i have a notion, that by very great temperance, or more properly abstinence, he may yet recover[ ]. 'there is an old english and latin book of poems by barclay, called "the ship of fools;" at the end of which are a number of _eglogues_; so he writes it, from _egloga_[ ], which are probably the first in our language. if you cannot find the book i will get mr. dodsley to send it you. 'i shall be extremely glad to hear from you again, to know, if the affair proceeds[ ]. i have mentioned it to none of my friends for fear of being laughed at for my disappointment. 'you know poor mr. dodsley has lost his wife; i believe he is much affected. i hope he will not suffer so much as i yet suffer for the loss of mine. [greek: oimoi. ti d oimoi; onaeta gar peponthamen.][ ]. i have ever since seemed to myself broken off from mankind; a kind of solitary wanderer in the wild of life, without any direction, or fixed point of view: a gloomy gazer on a world to which i have little relation. yet i would endeavour, by the help of you and your brother, to supply the want of closer union, by friendship: and hope to have long the pleasure of being, dear sir, 'most affectionately your's, 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] dec. , .' : Ætat. .--in we behold him to great advantage; his degree of master of arts conferred upon him, his _dictionary_ published, his correspondence animated, his benevolence exercised. [page : land after a vast sea of words. a.d. .] 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'i wrote to you some weeks ago, but believe did not direct accurately, and therefore know not whether you had my letter. i would, likewise, write to your brother, but know not where to find him. i now begin to see land, after having wandered, according to mr. warburton's phrase, in this vast sea of words. what reception i shall meet with on the shore, i know not; whether the sound of bells, and acclamations of the people, which ariosto talks of in his last canto[ ], or a general murmur of dislike, i know not: whether i shall find upon the coast a calypso that will court, or a polypheme that will resist. but if polypheme comes, have at his eye. i hope, however, the criticks will let me be at peace; for though i do not much fear their skill and strength, i am a little afraid of myself, and would not willingly feel so much ill-will in my bosom as literary quarrels are apt to excite. 'mr. baretti is about a work for which he is in great want of _crescimbeni_, which you may have again when you please. 'there is nothing considerable done or doing among us here. we are not, perhaps, as innocent as villagers, but most of us seem to be as idle. i hope, however, you are busy; and should be glad to know what you are doing. 'i am, dearest sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' '[london] feb. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i received your letter this day, with great sense of the favour that has been done me[ ]; for which i return my most sincere thanks: and entreat you to pay to mr. wise such returns as i ought to make for so much kindness so little deserved. [page : dr. king. Ætat .] 'i sent mr. wise the _lexicon_, and afterwards wrote to him; but know not whether he had either the book or letter. be so good as to contrive to enquire. 'but why does my dear mr. warton tell me nothing of himself? where hangs the new volume[ ]? can i help? let not the past labour be lost, for want of a little more: but snatch what time you can from the hall, and the pupils[ ], and the coffee-house, and the parks[ ], and complete your design. i am, dear sir, &c, 'sam. johnson.' '[london.] feb. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i had a letter last week from mr. wise, but have yet heard nothing from you, nor know in what state my affair stands[ ]; of which i beg you to inform me, if you can, to-morrow, by the return of the post. 'mr. wise sends me word, that he has not had the _finnick lexicon_ yet, which i sent some time ago; and if he has it not, you must enquire after it. however, do not let your letter stay for that. 'your brother, who is a better correspondent than you, and not much better, sends me word, that your pupils keep you in college: but do they keep you from writing too? let them, at least, give you time to write to, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] feb. , ,' to the same, 'dear sir, 'dr. king[ ] was with me a few minutes before your letter; this, however, is the first instance in which your kind intentions to me have ever been frustrated[ ]. i have now the full effect of your care and benevolence; and am far from thinking it a slight honour, or a small advantage; since it will put the enjoyment of your conversation more frequently in the power of, dear sir, [page : the chancellor of oxford's letter. a.d. .] 'your most obliged and affectionate 'sam. johnson.' 'p.s. i have enclosed a letter to the vice-chancellor[ ], which you will read; and, if you like it, seal and give him. '[london,] feb. .' as the publick will doubtless be pleased to see the whole progress of this well-earned academical honour, i shall insert the chancellor of oxford's letter to the university[ ], the diploma, and johnson's letter of thanks to the vice-chancellor. '_to the reverend dr_. huddesford, vice-chancellor _of the_ university _of_ oxford; _to be communicated to the heads of houses, and proposed in convocation_. 'mr. vice-chancellor, and gentlemen, 'mr. samuel johnson, who was formerly of pembroke college, having very eminently distinguished himself by the publication of a series of essays, excellently calculated to form the manners of the people, and in which the cause of religion and morality is every where maintained by the strongest powers of argument and language; and who shortly intends to publish a _dictionary of the english tongue_, formed on a new plan, and executed with the greatest labour and judgement; i persuade myself that i shall act agreeably to the sentiments of the whole university, in desiring that it may be proposed in convocation to confer on him the degree of master of arts by diploma, to which i readily give my consent; and am, [page : diploma magistri johnson. Ætat .] 'mr. vice-chancellor, and gentlemen, 'your affectionate friend and servant, 'arran[ ].' 'grosvenor-street, feb. , .' term. seti. hilarii. 'diploma magistri johnson. '_cancellarius, magistri et scholares universitatis oxoniensis omnibus ad quos hoc presens scriptum pervenerit, salutem in domino sempiternam. 'cum eum in finem gradus academici à majoribus nostris instituti fuerint, ut viri ingenio et doctriné præstantes titulis quoque prater cæeteros insignirentur; cùmque vir doctissimus_ samuel johnson _è collegia pembrochiensi, scriptis suis popularium mores informantibus dudum literato orbi innotuerit; quin et linguæ patricæ tum ornandæ tum stabiliendæ (lexicon scilicet anglicanum summo studio, summo à se judicio congestum propediem editurus) etiam nunc utilissimam impendat operam; nos igitur cancellarius, magistri, et scholares antedicti, nè virum de literis humanioribus optimè meritum diulius inhonoratum prætereamus, in solenni convocatione doctorum, magistrorum, regentium, et non regentium, decimo die mensis februarii anno domini millesimo septingentesimo quinquagesimo quinto habitú, præfatum virum_ samuelem johnson (_conspirantibus omnium suffragiis) magistrum in artibus renunciavimus et constituimus; eumque, virtute præsentis diplomatis, singulis juribus privilegiis et honoribus ad istum gradum quòquà pertinentibus frui et gaudere jussimus. 'in cujiis rei testimonium sigillum universitatis oxoniensis præsentibus apponi fecimus. 'datum in domo nostræ convocationis die ° mensis feb. anno dom. prædicto. 'diploma supra scriptum per registrarium iectum erat, et ex decreto venerabilis domús communi universitatis sigillo munitum_'[ ].' 'dom. doctori huddesford, oxoniensis academiÆ vice-cancellario. 'ingratus planè et tibi et mihi videar, nisi quanto me gaudio affecerint quos nuper mihi honores (te credo auctore) decrevit senatus academicus, iiterarum, quo lamen nihil levius, officio, significem: ingratus etiam, nisi comitatem, quá vir eximius[ ] mihi vestri testimonium amoris in manus tradidit, agnoscam et laudem. si quid est undè rei lam gratæ accedat gratia, hoc ipso magis mihi placet, quod eo tempore in ordines academicos denuo cooptatus sim, quo tuam imminuere auctoritatem, famamque oxonii iædere[ ], omnibus modis conantur homines vafri, nec tamen aculi: quibus ego, prout viro umbratico licuit, semper restiti, semper restiturus. qui enim, inter has rerum procellas, vel tibi vel academiæ defuerit, illum virtuti et literis, sibique et posteris, defuturum existimo. 's. johnson.' [page : johnson's letter of thanks. a.d. .] 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'after i received my diploma, i wrote you a letter of thanks, with a letter to the vice-chancellor, and sent another to mr. wise; but have heard from nobody since, and begin to think myself forgotten. it is true, i sent you a double letter[ ], and you may fear an expensive correspondent; but i would have taken it kindly, if you had returned it treble: and what is a double letter to a _petty king_, that having _fellowship and fines_, can sleep without a _modus in his head_[ ]? 'dear mr. warton, let me hear from you, and tell me something, i care not what, so i hear it but from you. something i will tell you:--i hope to see my _dictionary_ bound and lettered, next week;--_vastâ mole superbus_. and i have a great mind to come to oxford at easter; but you will not invite me. shall i come uninvited, or stay here where nobody perhaps would miss me if i went? a hard choice! but such is the world to, dear sir, 'your, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london] march , .' [page : a projected review. Ætat .] to the same. 'dear sir, 'though not to write, when a man can write so well, is an offence sufficiently heinous, yet i shall pass it by, i am very glad that the vice-chancellor was pleased with my note. i shall impatiently expect you at london, that we may consider what to do next. i intend in the winter to open a _bibliothèque_, and remember, that you are to subscribe a sheet a year; let us try, likewise, if we cannot persuade your brother to subscribe another. my book is now coming _in luminis oras_[ ]. what will be its fate i know not, nor think much, because thinking is to no purpose. it must stand the censure of the _great vulgar and the small_[ ]; of those that understand it, and that understand it not. but in all this, i suffer not alone: every writer has the same difficulties, and, perhaps, every writer talks of them more than he thinks. [page : dr. maty. a.d. .] 'you will be pleased to make my compliments to all my friends: and be so kind, at every idle hour, as to remember, dear sir, 'your, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] march , .' dr. adams told me, that this scheme of a _bibliothèque_ was a serious one: for upon his visiting him one day, he found his parlour floor covered with parcels of foreign and english literary journals, and he told dr. adams he meant to undertake a review. 'how, sir, (said dr. adams,) can you think of doing it alone? all branches of knowledge must be considered in it. do you know mathematicks? do you know natural history?' johnson answered, 'why, sir, i must do as well as i can. my chief purpose is to give my countrymen a view of what is doing in literature upon the continent; and i shall have, in a good measure, the choice of my subject, for i shall select such books as i best understand.' dr. adams suggested, that as dr. maty had just then finished his _bibliothèque britannique_[ ], which was a well-executed work, giving foreigners an account of british publications, he might, with great advantage, assume him as an assistant. '_he_, (said johnson) the little black dog! i'd throw him into the thames[ ].' the scheme, however, was dropped. [page : dr. birch's letter. Ætat .] in one of his little memorandum-books i find the following hints for his intended _review or literary journal_: '_the annals of literature, foreign as welt as domestick_. imitate le clerk--bayle--barbeyrac. infelicity of journals in england. works of the learned. we cannot take in all. sometimes copy from foreign journalists. always tell.' 'to dr. birch. 'march , . 'sir, 'i have sent some parts of my _dictionary_, such as were at hand, for your inspection. the favour which i beg is, that if you do not like them, you will say nothing. i am, sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'to mr. samuel johnson. norfolk-street, april , . sir, 'the part of your _dictionary_ which you have favoured me with the sight of has given me such an idea of the whole, that i most sincerely congratulate the publick upon the acquisition of a work long wanted, and now executed with an industry, accuracy, and judgement, equal to the importance of the subject. you might, perhaps, have chosen one in which your genius would have appeared to more advantage; but you could not have fixed upon any other in which your labours would have done such substantial service to the present age and to posterity. i am glad that your health has supported the application necessary to the performance of so vast a task; and can undertake to promise you as one (though perhaps the only) reward of it, the approbation and thanks of every well-wisher to the honour of the english language. i am, with the greatest regard, 'sir, 'your most faithful and 'most affectionate humble servant, 'tho. birch.' mr. charles burney, who has since distinguished himself so much in the science of musick, and obtained a doctor's degree from the university of oxford, had been driven from the capital by bad health, and was now residing at lynne regis, in norfolk[ ]. he had been so much delighted with johnson's _rambler_ and the _plan_ of his _dictionary_, that when the great work was announced in the news-papers as nearly finished, he wrote to dr. johnson, begging to be informed when and in what manner his _dictionary_ would be published; intreating, if it should be by subscription, or he should have any books at his own disposal, to be favoured with six copies for himself and friends. [page : johnson's letter to mr. burney. a.d. .] in answer to this application, dr. johnson wrote the following letter, of which (to use dr. burney's own words) 'if it be remembered that it was written to an obscure young man, who at this time had not much distinguished himself even in his own profession, but whose name could never have reached the authour of _the rambler_, the politeness and urbanity may be opposed to some of the stories which have been lately circulated of dr. johnson's natural rudeness and ferocity.' 'to mr. burnky, in lynne regis, norfolk. 'sir, 'if you imagine that by delaying my answer i intended to shew any neglect of the notice with which you have favoured me, you will neither think justly of yourself nor of me. your civilities were offered with too much elegance not to engage attention; and i have too much pleasure in pleasing men like you, not to feel very sensibly the distinction which you have bestowed upon me. 'few consequences of my endeavours to please or to benefit mankind have delighted me more than your friendship thus voluntarily offered, which now i have it i hope to keep, because i hope to continue to deserve it. 'i have no _dictionaries_ to dispose of for myself, but shall be glad to have you direct your friends to mr. dodsley, because it was by his recommendation that i was employed in the work. 'when you have leisure to think again upon me, let me be favoured with another letter; and another yet, when you have looked into my _dictionary_. if you find faults, i shall endeavour to mend them; if you find none, i shall think you blinded by kind partiality: but to have made you partial in his favour, will very much gratify the ambition of, sir, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'cough-square, fleet-street, 'april , ,' [page : andrew millar. Ætat .] mr. andrew millar, bookseller in the strand, took the principal charge of conducting the publication of johnson's _dictionary_; and as the patience of the proprietors was repeatedly tried and almost exhausted, by their expecting that the work would be completed within the time which johnson had sanguinely supposed, the learned authour was often goaded to dispatch, more especially as he had received all the copy-money, by different drafts, a considerable time before he had finished his task[ ]. when the messenger who carried the last sheet to millar returned, johnson asked him, 'well, what did he say?'--'sir, (answered the messenger) he said, thank god i have done with him.' 'i am glad (replied johnson, with a smile) that he thanks god for any thing[ ].' it is remarkable that those with whom johnson chiefly contracted for his literary labours were scotchmen, mr. millar and mr. strahan. millar, though himself no great judge of literature, had good sense enough to have for his friends very able men to give him their opinion and advice in the purchase of copyright; the consequence of which was his acquiring a very large fortune, with great liberality[ ]. johnson said of him, 'i respect millar, sir; he has raised the price of literature.' the same praise may be justly given to panckoucke, the eminent bookseller of paris. mr. strahan's liberality, judgement, and success, are well known. [page : an excursion to langton deferred. a.d. .] 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'sir, 'it has been long observed, that men do not suspect faults which they do not commit; your own elegance of manners, and punctuality of complaisance, did not suffer you to impute to me that negligence of which i was guilty, and which i have not since atoned. i received both your letters, and received them with pleasure proportionate to the esteem which so short an acquaintance strongly impressed, and which i hope to confirm by nearer knowledge, though i am afraid that gratification will be for a time withheld. 'i have, indeed, published my book[ ], of which i beg to know your father's judgement, and yours; and i have now staid long enough to watch its progress into the world. it has, you see, no patrons, and, i think, has yet had no opponents, except the criticks of the coffee-house, whose outcries are soon dispersed into the air, and are thought on no more: from this, therefore, i am at liberty, and think of taking the opportunity of this interval to make an excursion; and why not then into lincolnshire? or, to mention a stronger attraction, why not to dear mr. langton? i will give the true reason, which i know you will approve:--i have a mother more than eighty years old, who has counted the days to the publication of my book, in hopes of seeing me; and to her, if i can disengage myself here, i resolve to go. 'as i know, dear sir, that to delay my visit for a reason like this, will not deprive me of your esteem, i beg it may not lessen your kindness. i have very seldom received an offer of friendship which i so earnestly desire to cultivate and mature. i shall rejoice to hear from you, till i can see you, and will see you as soon as i can; for when the duty that calls me to lichfield is discharged, my inclination will carry me to langton. i shall delight to hear the ocean roar, or see the stars twinkle, in the company of men to whom nature does not spread her volumes or utter her voice in vain. 'do not, dear sir, make the slowness of this letter a precedent for delay, or imagine that i approved the incivility that i have committed; for i have known you enough to love you, and sincerely to wish a further knowledge; and i assure you, once more, that to live in a house that contains such a father and such a son, will be accounted a very uncommon degree of pleasure, by, dear sir, your most obliged, and 'most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' [page : letters to mr. warton. Ætat .] 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'i am grieved that you should think me capable of neglecting your letters; and beg you will never admit any such suspicion again. i purpose to come down next week, if you shall be there; or any other week, that shall be more agreeable to you. therefore let me know. i can stay this visit but a week, but intend to make preparations for a longer stay next time; being resolved not to lose sight of the university. how goes apollonius[ ]? don't let him be forgotten. some things of this kind must be done, to keep us up. pay my compliments to mr. wise, and all my other friends. i think to come to kettel-hall[ ]. 'i am, sir, 'your most affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] may , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'it is strange how many things will happen to intercept every pleasure, though it [be] only that of two friends meeting together. i have promised myself every day to inform you when you might expect me at oxford, and have not been able to fix a time. the time, however, is, i think, at last come; and i promise myself to repose in kettel-hall, one of the first nights of the next week. i am afraid my stay with you cannot be long; but what is the inference? we must endeavour to make it chearful. i wish your brother could meet us, that we might go and drink tea with mr. wise in a body. i hope he will be at oxford, or at his nest of british and saxon antiquities[ ]. i shall expect to see _spenser_ finished, and many other things begun. dodsley is gone to visit the dutch. the _dictionary_ sells well[ ]. the rest of the world goes on as it did. dear sir, [page : letters to mr. warton. a.d. .] 'your most affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] june , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'to talk of coming to you, and not yet to come, has an air of trifling which i would not willingly have among you; and which, i believe, you will not willingly impute to me, when i have told you, that since my promise, two of our partners[ ] are dead, and that i was solicited to suspend my excursion till we could recover from our confusion. 'i have not laid aside my purpose; for every day makes me more impatient of staying from you. but death, you know, hears not supplications, nor pays any regard to the convenience of mortals. i hope now to see you next week; but next week is but another name for to-morrow, which has been noted for promising and deceiving. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] june , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i told you, that among the manuscripts are some things of sir thomas more. i beg you to pass an hour in looking on them, and procure a transcript of the ten or twenty first lines of each, to be compared with what i have; that i may know whether they are yet published. the manuscripts are these: 'catalogue of bodl. ms. pag. . f. . sir thomas more. ' . fall of angels. . creation and fall of mankind. . determination of the trinity for the rescue of mankind. . five lectures of our saviour's passion. . of the institution of the sacrament, three lectures. . how to receive the blessed body of our lord sacramentally. . neomenia, the new moon. . _de tristitia, tædio, pavore, et oratione christi, ante captionem ejus_. 'catalogue, pag. . life of sir thomas more. _qu_. whether roper's? pag. . _de resignatione magni sigilli in manus regis per d. thomam morum_. pag. . _mori defensio morice_. 'if you procure the young gentleman in the library to write out what you think fit to be written, i will send to mr. prince the bookseller to pay him what you shall think proper. 'be pleased to make my compliments to mr. wise, and all my friends. 'i am, sir, 'your affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london] aug. , .' [page : publication of the dictionary. Ætat .] the _dictionary_, with a _grammar and history of the english language_, being now at length published, in two volumes folio, the world contemplated with wonder so stupendous a work achieved by one man, while other countries had thought such undertakings fit only for whole academies. vast as his powers were, i cannot but think that his imagination deceived him, when he supposed that by constant application he might have performed the task in three years. let the preface be attentively perused, in which is given, in a clear, strong, and glowing style, a comprehensive, yet particular view of what he had done; and it will be evident, that the time he employed upon it was comparatively short. i am unwilling to swell my book with long quotations from what is in every body's hands, and i believe there are few prose compositions in the english language that are read with more delight, or are more impressed upon the memory, than that preliminary discourse. one of its excellencies has always struck me with peculiar admiration: i mean the perspicuity with which he has expressed abstract scientifick notions. as an instance of this, i shall quote the following sentence: 'when the radical idea branches out into parallel ramifications, how can a consecutive series be formed of senses in their own[ ] nature collateral?' we have here an example of what has been often said, and i believe with justice, that there is for every thought a certain nice adaptation of words which none other could equal, and which, when a man has been so fortunate as to hit, he has attained, in that particular case, the perfection of language. [page : the preface to the dictionary. a.d. .] the extensive reading which was absolutely necessary for the accumulation of authorities, and which alone may account for johnson's retentive mind being enriched with a very large and various store of knowledge and imagery, must have occupied several years. the preface furnishes an eminent instance of a double talent, of which johnson was fully conscious. sir joshua reynolds heard him say, 'there are two things which i am confident i can do very well: one is an introduction to any literary work, stating what it is to contain, and how it should be executed in the most perfect manner; the other is a conclusion, shewing from various causes why the execution has not been equal to what the authour promised to himself and to the publick.' how should puny scribblers be abashed and disappointed, when they find him displaying a perfect theory of lexicographical excellence, yet at the same time candidly and modestly allowing that he 'had not satisfied his own expectations[ ].' here was a fair occasion for the exercise of johnson's modesty, when he was called upon to compare his own arduous performance, not with those of other individuals, (in which case his inflexible regard to truth would have been violated, had he affected diffidence,) but with speculative perfection[ ]; as he, who can outstrip all his competitors in the race, may yet be sensible of his deficiency when he runs against time. well might he say, that 'the _english dictionary_ was written with little assistance of the learned[ ],' for he told me, that the only aid which he received was a paper containing twenty etymologies, sent to him by a person then unknown, who he was afterwards informed was dr. pearce, bishop of rochester[ ]. the etymologies, though they exhibit learning and judgement, are not, i think, entitled to the first praise amongst the various parts of this immense work. the definitions have always appeared to me such astonishing proofs of acuteness of intellect and precision of language, as indicate a genius of the highest rank[ ]. this it is which marks the superiour excellence of johnson's _dictionary_ over others equally or even more voluminous, and must have made it a work of much greater mental labour than mere lexicons, or _word-books_, as the dutch call them. they, who will make the experiment of trying how they can define a few words of whatever nature, will soon be satisfied of the unquestionable justice of this observation, which i can assure my readers is founded upon much study, and upon communication with more minds than my own. [page : erroneous definitions. Ætat .] a few of his definitions must be admitted to be erroneous. thus, _windward_ and _leeward_[ ], though directly of opposite meaning, are defined identically the same way; as to which inconsiderable specks it is enough to observe, that his preface announces that he was aware there might be many such in so immense a work[ ]; nor was he at all disconcerted when an instance was pointed out to him. a lady once asked him how he came to define _pastern_ the _knee_ of a horse: instead of making an elaborate defence, as she expected, he at once answered, 'ignorance, madam, pure ignorance[ ].' his definition of _network_[ ] has been often quoted with sportive malignity[ ], as obscuring a thing in itself very plain. but to these frivolous censures no other answer is necessary than that with which we are furnished by his own preface. [page : humorous definitions. a.d. .] 'to explain, requires the use of terms less abstruse than that which is to be explained, and such terms cannot always be found. for as nothing can be proved but by supposing something intuitively known, and evident without proof, so nothing can be defined but by the use of words too plain to admit of definition[ ]. sometimes easier words are changed into harder; as, _burial_, into _sepulture_ or _interment; dry_[ ], into _desiccative_; _dryness_, into _siccity_ or _aridity; fit_, into _paroxism_; for the _easiest_ word, whatever it be, can never be translated into one more easy.' [page : humorous definitions.] his introducing his own opinions, and even prejudices, under general definitions of words, while at the same time the original meaning of the words is not explained, as his _tory_[ ], _whig_[ ], _pension_[ ], _oats_[ ], _excise_[ ], and a few more, cannot be fully defended, and must be placed to the account of capricious and humorous indulgence[ ]. talking to me upon this subject when we were at ashbourne in , he mentioned a still stronger instance of the predominance of his private feelings in the composition of this work, than any now to be found in it. 'you know, sir, lord gower forsook the old jacobite interest. when i came to the word _renegado_, after telling that it meant "one who deserts to the enemy, a revolter," i added, _sometimes we say a gower_[ ]. thus it went to the press; but the printer had more wit than i, and struck it out.' [page : humorous definitions. a.d. .] let it, however, be remembered, that this indulgence does not display itself only in sarcasm towards others, but sometimes in playful allusion to the notions commonly entertained of his own laborious task. thus: '_grub-street_, the name of a street in london, much inhabited by writers of small histories, _dictionaries_, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called _grub-street_[ ].'--'_lexicographer_, a writer of dictionaries, a _harmless drudge_[ ]'. [page : the gloom of solitude. Ætat .] at the time when he was concluding his very eloquent preface, johnson's mind appears to have been in such a state of depression[ ], that we cannot contemplate without wonder the vigorous and splendid thoughts which so highly distinguish that performance. 'i (says he) may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which if i could obtain in this gloom of solitude, what would it avail me? i have protracted my work till most of those whom i wished to please have sunk into the grave; and success and miscarriage are empty sounds, i therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from censure or from praise[ ].' that this indifference was rather a temporary than an habitual feeling, appears, i think, from his letters to mr. warton[ ]; and however he may have been affected for the moment, certain it is that the honours which his great work procured him, both at home and abroad, were very grateful to him[ ]. his friend the earl of corke and orrery, being at florence, presented it to the _academia della crusca_. that academy sent johnson their _vocabulario_, and the french academy sent him their _dictionnaire_, which mr. langton had the pleasure to convey to him[ ]. [page : his melancholy at its meridian. a.d. .] it must undoubtedly seem strange, that the conclusion of his preface should be expressed in terms so desponding, when it is considered that the authour was then only in his forty-sixth year. but we must ascribe its gloom to that miserable dejection of spirits to which he was constitutionally subject, and which was aggravated by the death of his wife two years before[ ]. i have heard it ingeniously observed by a lady of rank and elegance, that 'his melancholy was then at its meridian[ ].' it pleased god to grant him almost thirty years of life after this time; and once, when he was in a placid frame of mind, he was obliged to own to me that he had enjoyed happier days, and had many more friends, since that gloomy hour than before[ ]. [page : johnson's happiest days last. Ætat .] it is a sad saying, that 'most of those whom he wished to please had sunk into the grave;' and his case at forty-five was singularly unhappy, unless the circle of his friends was very narrow. i have often thought, that as longevity is generally desired, and i believe, generally expected, it would be wise to be continually adding to the number of our friends, that the loss of some may be supplied by others. friendship, 'the wine of life[ ],' should like a well-stocked cellar, be thus continually renewed; and it is consolatory to think, that although we can seldom add what will equal the generous _first-growths_ of our youth, yet friendship becomes insensibly old in much less time than is commonly imagined, and not many years are required to make it very mellow and pleasant. _warmth_ will, no doubt, make a considerable difference. men of affectionate temper and bright fancy will coalesce a great deal sooner than those who are cold and dull. [page : garrick's complimentary epigram. a.d. .] the proposition which i have now endeavoured to illustrate was, at a subsequent period of his life, the opinion of johnson himself. he said to sir joshua reynolds, 'if a man does not make new acquaintance as he advances through life, he will soon find himself left alone. a man, sir, should keep his friendship _in constant repair_.' the celebrated mr. wilkes, whose notions and habits of life were very opposite to his, but who was ever eminent for literature and vivacity, sallied forth with a little _jeu d'esprit_ upon the following passage in his grammar of the english tongue, prefixed to the _dictionary_: '_h_ seldom, perhaps never, begins any but the first syllable.' in an essay printed in _the publick advertiser_, this lively writer enumerated many instances in opposition to this remark; for example, 'the authour of this observation must be a man of a quick _apprehension_, and of a most _compre-hensive_ genius.' the position is undoubtedly expressed with too much latitude. this light sally, we may suppose, made no great impression on our lexicographer; for we find that he did not alter the passage till many years afterwards[ ]. he had the pleasure of being treated in a very different manner by his old pupil mr. garrick, in the following complimentary epigram[ ]: '_on_ johnson's dictionary, 'talk of war with a briton, he'll boldly advance, that one english soldier will beat ten of france; would we alter the boast from the sword to the pen, our odds are still greater, still greater our men: in the deep mines of science though frenchmen may toil, can their strength be compar'd to locke, newton, and boyle? let them rally their heroes, send forth all their pow'rs, their verse-men and prose-men, then match them with ours! first shakspeare and milton[ ], like gods in the fight, have put their whole drama and epick to flight; in satires, epistles, and odes, would they cope, their numbers retreat before dryden and pope; and johnson, well arm'd like a hero of yore, has beat forty french[ ], and will beat forty more!' [page : zachariah williams. Ætat .] johnson this year gave at once a proof of his benevolence, quickness of apprehension, and admirable art of composition, in the assistance which he gave to mr. zachariah williams, father of the blind lady whom he had humanely received under his roof. mr. williams had followed the profession of physick in wales; but having a very strong propensity to the study of natural philosophy, had made many ingenious advances towards a discovery of the longitude, and repaired to london in hopes of obtaining the great parliamentary reward[ ]. he failed of success; but johnson having made himself master of his principles and experiments, wrote for him a pamphlet, published in quarto, with the following title: _an account of an attempt to ascertain the longitude at sea, by an exact theory of the variation of the magnetical needle; with a table of the variations at the most remarkable cities in europe, from the year to _.[dagger] to diffuse it more extensively, it was accompanied with an italian translation on the opposite page, which it is supposed was the work of signor baretti[ ], an italian of considerable literature, who having come to england a few years before, had been employed in the capacity both of a language-master and an authour, and formed an intimacy with dr. johnson. this pamphlet johnson presented to the bodleian library[ ]. on a blank leaf of it is pasted a paragraph cut out of a news-paper, containing an account of the death and character of williams, plainly written by johnson[ ]. [page : joseph baretti. a.d. .] [page : a scheme of life for sunday. Ætat .] in july this year he had formed some scheme of mental improvement, the particular purpose of which does not appear. but we find in his _prayers and meditations_, p. , a prayer entitled 'on the study of philosophy, as an instrument of living;' and after it follows a note, 'this study was not pursued.' on the th of the same month he wrote in his _journal_ the following scheme of life, for sunday: 'having lived' (as he with tenderness of conscience expresses himself) 'not without an habitual reverence for the sabbath, yet without that attention to its religious duties which christianity requires; ' . to rise early, and in order to it, to go to sleep early on saturday. ' . to use some extraordinary devotion in the morning. ' . to examine the tenour of my life, and particularly the last week; and to mark my advances in religion, or recession from it. ' . to read the scripture methodically with such helps as are at hand. ' . to go to church twice. ' . to read books of divinity, either speculative or practical. ' . to instruct my family. ' . to wear off by meditation any worldly soil contracted in the week.' : Ætat. .--in johnson found that the great fame of his _dictionary_ had not set him above the necessity of 'making provision for the day that was passing over him[ ].' [page : payment for the dictionary. a.d. .] no royal or noble patron extended a munificent hand to give independence to the man who had conferred stability on the language of his country. we may feel indignant that there should have been such unworthy neglect; but we must, at the same time, congratulate ourselves, when we consider, that to this very neglect, operating to rouse the natural indolence of his constitution, we owe many valuable productions, which otherwise, perhaps, might never have appeared. he had spent, during the progress of the work, the money for which he had contracted to write his _dictionary_. we have seen that the reward of his labour was only fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds; and when the expence of amanuenses and paper, and other articles are deducted, his clear profit was very inconsiderable. i once said to him, 'i am sorry, sir, you did not get more for your _dictionary_'. his answer was, 'i am sorry, too. but it was very well. the booksellers are generous, liberal-minded men[ ].' he, upon all occasions, did ample justice to their character in this respect[ ]. he considered them as the patrons of literature; and, indeed, although they have eventually been considerable gainers by his _dictionary_, it is to them that we owe its having been undertaken and carried through at the risk of great expence, for they were not absolutely sure of being indemnified. [page : johnson's opinion of booksellers. Ætat .] on the first day of this year we find from his private devotions, that he had then recovered from sickness[ ]; and in february that his eye was restored to its use[ ]. the pious gratitude with which he acknowledges mercies upon every occasion is very edifying; as is the humble submission which he breathes, when it is the will of his heavenly father to try him with afflictions. as such dispositions become the state of man here, and are the true effects of religious discipline, we cannot but venerate in johnson one of the most exercised minds that our holy religion hath ever formed. if there be any thoughtless enough to suppose such exercise the weakness of a great understanding, let them look up to johnson and be convinced that what he so earnestly practised must have a rational foundation. [page : christopher smart. a.d. .] his works this year were, an abstract or epitome, in octavo, of his folio _dictionary_, and a few essays in a monthly publication, entitled, _the universal visiter_. christopher smart, with whose unhappy vacillation of mind he sincerely sympathised, was one of the stated undertakers of this miscellany; and it was to assist him that johnson sometimes employed his pen[ ]. all the essays marked with two _asterisks_ have been ascribed to him; but i am confident, from internal evidence, that of these, neither 'the life of chaucer,' 'reflections on the state of portugal,' nor an 'essay on architecture,' were written by him. i am equally confident, upon the same evidence, that he wrote 'further thoughts on agriculture[ ];'[dagger] being the sequel of a very inferiour essay on the same subject, and which, though carried on as if by the same hand, is both in thinking and expression so far above it, and so strikingly peculiar, as to leave no doubt of its true parent; and that he also wrote 'a dissertation on the state of literature and authours[ ],'[dagger] and 'a dissertation on the epitaphs written by pope.'[dagger] the last of these, indeed, he afterwards added to his _idler_[ ]. why the essays truly written by him are marked in the same manner with some which he did not write, i cannot explain; but with deference to those who have ascribed to him the three essays which i have rejected, they want all the characteristical marks of johnsonian composition. [page : the literary magazine. Ætat .] he engaged also to superintend and contribute largely to another monthly publication, entitled _the literary magazine, or universal review_; the first number of which came out in may this year[ ]. what were his emoluments from this undertaking, and what other writers were employed in it, i have not discovered. he continued to write in it, with intermissions, till the fifteenth number; and i think that he never gave better proofs of the force, acuteness, and vivacity of his mind, than in this miscellany, whether we consider his original essays, or his reviews of the works of others. the 'preliminary address'[dagger] to the publick is a proof how this great man could embellish, with the graces of superiour composition, even so trite a thing as the plan of a magazine. his original essays are, 'an introduction to the political state of great britain[ ];'[dagger] 'remarks on the militia bill[ ];'[dagger] 'observations on his britannick majesty's treaties with the empress of russia and the landgrave of hesse cassel[ ];'[dagger] 'observations on the present state of affairs[ ];'[dagger] and 'memoirs of frederick iii, king of prussia[ ].'[dagger] in all these he displays extensive political knowledge and sagacity, expressed with uncommon energy and perspicuity, without any of those words which he sometimes took a pleasure in adopting in imitation of sir thomas browne; of whose _christian morals_ he this year gave an edition, with his 'life'[*] prefixed to it, which is one of johnson's best biographical performances. in one instance only in these essays has he indulged his _brownism_[ ]. dr. robertson, the historian, mentioned it to me, as having at once convinced him that johnson was the author of the 'memoirs of the king of prussia.' speaking of the pride which the old king, the father of his hero, took in being master of the tallest regiment in europe, he says, 'to review this towering regiment was his daily pleasure; and to perpetuate it was so much his care, that when he met a tall woman he immediately commanded one of his _titanian_ retinue to marry her, that they might _propagate procerity_[ ]' for this anglo-latian word _procerity_, johnson had, however, the authority of addison[ ]. [page : the earthquake of lisbon. Ætat .] his reviews are of the following books: 'birch's history of the royal society;'[dagger] 'murphy's gray's inn journal;'[dagger] 'warton's essay on the writings and genius of pope, vol. i.'[dagger] 'hampton's translation of polybius;'[dagger] 'blackwell's memoirs of the court of augustus;'[dagger] 'russel's natural history of aleppo[ ];'[dagger] 'sir isaac newton's arguments in proof of a deity;'[dagger] 'borlase's history of the isles of scilly;'[dagger] 'home's experiments on bleaching;'[dagger] 'browne's christian morals;'[dagger] 'hales on distilling sea-water, ventilators in ships, and curing an ill taste in milk;'[dagger] 'lucas's essay on waters;'[dagger] 'keith's catalogue of the scottish bishops;'[dagger] 'browne's history of jamaica;'[dagger] 'philosophical transactions, vol. xlix.'[dagger] 'mrs. lennox's translation of sully's memoirs;'[*] 'miscellanies by elizabeth harrison;'[dagger] 'evans's map and account of the middle colonies in america[ ];'[dagger] 'letter on the case of admiral byng;'[*] 'appeal to the people concerning admiral byng;'[*] 'hanway's eight days journey, and essay on tea;'[*] 'the cadet, a military treatise;'[dagger] 'some further particulars in relation to the case of admiral byng, by a gentleman of oxford;'[*] 'the conduct of the ministry relating to the present war impartially examined;'[dagger] 'a free inquiry into the nature and origin of evil.'[*] all these, from internal evidence, were written by johnson; some of them i know he avowed, and have marked them with an _asterisk_ accordingly[ ]. [page : johnson's ardour for liberty. a.d. .] mr. thomas davies indeed, ascribed to him the review of mr. burke's 'inquiry into the origin of our ideas of the sublime and beautiful;' and sir john hawkins, with equal discernment, has inserted it in his collection of johnson's works: whereas it has no resemblance to johnson's composition, and is well known to have been written by mr. murphy, who has acknowledged it to me and many others. it is worthy of remark, in justice to johnson's political character, which has been misrepresented as abjectly submissive to power, that his 'observations on the present state of affairs' glow with as animated a spirit of constitutional liberty as can be found any where. thus he begins: 'the time is now come, in which every englishman expects to be informed of the national affairs; and in which he has a right to have that expectation gratified. for, whatever may be urged by ministers, or those whom vanity or interest make the followers of ministers, concerning the necessity of confidence in our governours, and the presumption of prying with profane eyes into the recesses of policy, it is evident that this reverence can be claimed only by counsels yet unexecuted, and projects suspended in deliberation. but when a design has ended in miscarriage or success, when every eye and every ear is witness to general discontent, or general satisfaction, it is then a proper time to disentangle confusion and illustrate obscurity; to shew by what causes every event was produced, and in what effects it is likely to terminate; to lay down with distinct particularity what rumour always huddles in general exclamation, or perplexes by indigested[ ] narratives; to shew whence happiness or calamity is derived, and whence it may be expected; and honestly to lay before the people what inquiry can gather of the past, and conjecture can estimate of the future[ ]'. [page : dr. lucas. Ætat .] here we have it assumed as an incontrovertible principle, that in this country the people are the superintendants of the conduct and measures of those by whom government is administered; of the beneficial effect of which the present reign afforded an illustrious example, when addresses from all parts of the kingdom controuled an audacious attempt to introduce a new power subversive of the crown.[ ] a still stronger proof of his patriotick spirit appears in his review of an 'essay on waters, by dr. lucas;' of whom, after describing him as a man well known to the world for his daring defiance of power, when he thought it exerted on the side of wrong, he thus speaks: 'the irish ministers drove him from his native country by a proclamation, in which they charged him with crimes of which they never intended to be called to the proof, and oppressed by methods equally irresistible by guilt and innocence. 'let the man thus driven into exile, for having been the friend of his country, be received in every other place as a confessor of liberty; and let the tools of power be taught in time, that they may rob, but cannot impoverish[ ].' some of his reviews in this _magazine_ are very short accounts of the pieces noticed, and i mention them only that dr. johnson's opinion of the works may be known; but many of them are examples of elaborate criticism, in the most masterly style. in his review of the 'memoirs of the court of augustus,' he has the resolution to think and speak from his own mind, regardless of the cant transmitted from age to age, in praise of the ancient romans[ ]. thus, 'i know not why any one but a school-boy in his declamation should whine over the common-wealth of rome, which grew great only by the misery of the rest of mankind. the romans, like others, as soon as they grew rich, grew corrupt; and in their corruption sold the lives and freedoms of themselves, and of one another[ ].' [page : dr. watts. a.d. .] again, 'a people, who, while they were poor, robbed mankind; and as soon as they became rich, robbed one another[ ].' in his review of the _miscellanies_ in prose and verse, published by elizabeth harrison, but written by many hands, he gives an eminent proof at once of his orthodoxy and candour: 'the authours of the essays in prose seem generally to have imitated, or tried to imitate, the copiousness and luxuriance of mrs. rowe[ ], this, however, is not all their praise; they have laboured to add to her brightness of imagery, her purity of sentiments. the poets have had dr. _watts_ before their eyes; a writer, who, if he stood not in the first class of genius, compensated that defect by a ready application of his powers to the promotion of piety. the attempt to employ the ornaments of romance in the decoration of religion, was, i think, first made by mr. _boyle's martyrdom of theodora_; but _boyle's_ philosophical studies did not allow him time for the cultivation of style; and the completion of the great design was reserved for mrs. _rowe_. dr. _watts_ was one of the first who taught the dissenters to write and speak like other men, by shewing them that elegance might consist with piety[ ]. they would have both done honour to a better society[ ], for they had that charity which might well make their failings be forgotten, and with which the whole christian world might wish for communion. they were pure from all the heresies of an age, to which every opinion is become a favourite that the universal church has hitherto detested! [page : johnson's defence of tea. Ætat .] 'this praise, the general interest of mankind requires to be given to writers who please and do not corrupt, who instruct and do not weary. but to them all human eulogies are vain, whom i believe applauded by angels, and numbered with the just[ ].' [page : johnson's reply to hanway's attack. a.d. .] his defence of tea against mr. jonas hartway's violent attack upon that elegant and popular beverage[ ], shews how very well a man of genius can write upon the slightest subject, when he writes, as the italians say, _con amore_: i suppose no person ever enjoyed with more relish the infusion of that fragrant leaf than johnson[ ]. the quantities which he drank of it at all hours were so great, that his nerves must have been uncommonly strong, not to have been extremely relaxed by such an intemperate use of it[ ]. he assured me, that he never felt the least inconvenience from it; which is a proof that the fault of his constitution was rather a too great tension of fibres, than the contrary. mr. hanway wrote an angry answer to johnson's review of his _essay on tea_, and johnson, after a full and deliberate pause, made a reply to it; the only instance, i believe, in the whole course of his life, when he condescended to oppose any thing that was written against him[ ]. i suppose when he thought of any of his little antagonists, he was ever justly aware of the high sentiment of ajax in _ovid_: 'iste tulit pretium jam nunc certaminis hujus, qui, cùm victus erit, mecum certasse feretur[ ].' but, indeed, the good mr. hanway laid himself so open to ridicule, that johnson's animadversions upon his attack were chiefly to make sport[ ]. [page : admiral byng. Ætat .] the generosity with which he pleads the cause of admiral byng is highly to the honour of his heart and spirit. though _voltaire_ affects to be witty upon the fate of that unfortunate officer, observing that he was shot '_pour encourager les autres_[ ],' the nation has long been satisfied that his life was sacrificed to the political fervour of the times. in the vault belonging to the torrington family, in the church of southill[ ], in bedfordshire, there is the following epitaph upon his monument, which i have transcribed: 'to the perpetual disgrace of public justice, the honourable john byng, esq. admiral of the blue, fell a martyr to political persecution, march , in the year, ; when bravery and loyalty were insufficient securities for the life and honour of a naval officer.' johnson's most exquisite critical essay in the _literary magazine_, and indeed any where, is his review[ ] of soame jenyns's _inquiry into the origin of evil_. jenyns was possessed of lively talents, and a style eminently pure and easy, and could very happily play with a light subject, either in prose or verse; but when he speculated on that most difficult and excruciating question, the origin of evil, he ventured far beyond his depth[ ], and, accordingly, was exposed by johnson, both with acute argument and brilliant wit. i remember when the late mr. bicknell's humourous performance, entitled _the musical travels of joel collyer_[ ], in which a slight attempt is made to ridicule johnson, was ascribed to soame jenyns, 'ha! (said johnson) i thought i had given him enough of it.' [page : soame jenyns. a.d. .] his triumph over jenyns is thus described by my friend mr. courtenay in his _poetical review of the literary and moral character of dr. johnson_; a performance of such merit, that had i not been honoured with a very kind and partial notice in it[ ], i should echo the sentiments of men of the first taste loudly in its praise: 'when specious sophists with presumption scan the source of evil hidden still from man; revive arabian tales, and vainly hope to rival st. john, and his scholar pope: though metaphysicks spread the gloom of night, by reason's star he guides our aching sight; the bounds of knowledge marks, and points the way to pathless wastes, where wilder'd sages stray; where, like a farthing link-boy, jenyns stands, and the dim torch drops from his feeble hands[ ].' [page : draughts and cards. Ætat .] this year mr. william payne, brother of the respectable bookseller[ ] of that name, published _an introduction to the game of draughts_, to which johnson contributed a dedication to the earl of rochford,[*] and a preface,[*] both of which are admirably adapted to the treatise to which they are prefixed. johnson, i believe, did not play at draughts after leaving college[ ], by which he suffered; for it would have afforded him an innocent soothing relief from the melancholy which distressed him so often. i have heard him regret that he had not learnt to play at cards[ ]; and the game of draughts we know is peculiarly calculated to fix the attention without straining it. there is a composure and gravity in draughts which insensibly tranquillises the mind; and, accordingly, the dutch are fond of it, as they are of smoaking, of the sedative influence of which, though he himself never smoaked, he had a high opinion[ ]. besides, there is in draughts some exercise of the faculties; and, accordingly, johnson wishing to dignify the subject in his dedication with what is most estimable in it, observes, 'triflers may find or make any thing a trifle; but since it is the great characteristick of a wise man to see events in their courses, to obviate consequences, and ascertain contingencies, your lordship will think nothing a trifle by which the mind is inured to caution, foresight, and circumspection[ ].' as one of the little occasional advantages which he did not disdain to take by his pen, as a man whose profession was literature, he this year accepted of a guinea[ ] from mr. robert dodsley, for writing the introduction to _the london chronicle_, an evening news-paper; and even in so slight a performance exhibited peculiar talents. this chronicle still subsists, and from what i observed, when i was abroad, has a more extensive circulation upon the continent than any of the english newspapers. it was constantly read by johnson himself[ ]; and it is but just to observe, that it has all along been distinguished for good sense, accuracy, moderation, and delicacy. [page : dr. madden. a.d. .] another instance of the same nature has been communicated to me by the reverend dr. thomas campbell, who has done himself considerable credit by his own writings[ ]. 'sitting with dr. johnson one morning alone, he asked me if i had known dr. madden, who was authour of the premium-scheme in ireland[ ]. on my answering in the affirmative, and also that i had for some years lived in his neighbourhood, &c., he begged of me that when i returned to ireland, i would endeavour to procure for him a poem of dr. madden's called _boulter's monument_. the reason (said he) why i wish for it, is this: when dr. madden came to london, he submitted that work to my castigation; and i remember i blotted a great many lines, and might have blotted many more, without making the poem worse. however, the doctor was very thankful, and very generous, for he gave me ten guineas, _which was to me at that time a great sum_[ ].' [page : johnson's shakspeare. Ætat .] he this year resumed his scheme of giving an edition of _shakspeare_ with notes[ ]. he issued proposals of considerable length[ ],[*] in which he shewed that he perfectly well knew what a variety of research such an undertaking required; but his indolence prevented him from pursuing it with that diligence which alone can collect those scattered facts that genius, however acute, penetrating, and luminous, cannot discover by its own force. it is remarkable, that at this time his fancied activity was for the moment so vigorous, that he promised his work should be published before christmas, [ ]. yet nine years elapsed before it saw the light[ ]. his throes in bringing it forth had been severe and remittent; and at last we may almost conclude that the caesarian operation was performed by the knife of churchill, whose upbraiding satire, i dare say, made johnson's friends urge him to dispatch[ ], 'he for subscribers bates his hook, and takes your cash; but where's the book? no matter where; wise fear, you know, forbids the robbing of a foe; but what, to serve our private ends, forbids the cheating of our friends[ ]?' [page : johnson refuses a country living. a.d. .] about this period he was offered a living of considerable value in lincolnshire, if he were inclined to enter into holy orders. it was a rectory in the gift of mr. langton, the father of his much valued friend. but he did not accept of it; partly i believe from a conscientious motive, being persuaded that his temper and habits rendered him unfit for that assiduous and familiar instruction of the vulgar and ignorant which he held to be an essential duty in a clergyman[ ]; and partly because his love of a london life was so strong, that he would have thought himself an exile in any other place, particularly if residing in the country[ ]. whoever would wish to see his thoughts upon that subject displayed in their full force, may peruse _the adventurer_, number [ ]. : Ætat. .].--in it does not appear that he published any thing, except some of those articles in _the literary magazine_, which have been mentioned. that magazine, after johnson ceased to write in it, gradually declined, though the popular epithet of _antigallican_[ ] was added to it; and in july it expired. he probably prepared a part of his _shakspeare_ this year, and he dictated a speech on the subject of an address to the throne, after the expedition to rochfort, which was delivered by one of his friends, i know not in what publick meeting.[ ] it is printed in _the gentleman's magazine_ for october as his, and bears sufficient marks of authenticity. [page : irish literature. Ætat .] by the favour of mr. joseph cooper walker, of the treasury, dublin, i have obtained a copy of the following letter from johnson to the venerable authour of _dissertations on the history of ireland_. [page : the affinities of language. a.d. .] 'to charles o'connor, esq.[ ] 'sir, 'i have lately, by the favour of mr. faulkner,[ ] seen your account of ireland, and cannot forbear to solicit a prosecution of your design. sir william temple complains that ireland is less known than any other country, as to its ancient state.[ ] the natives have had little leisure, and little encouragement for enquiry; and strangers, not knowing the language, have had no ability. 'i have long wished that the irish literature were cultivated.[ ] ireland is known by tradition to have been once the seat of piety and learning[ ]; and surely it would be very acceptable to all those who are curious either in the original of nations, or the affinities of languages, to be further informed of the revolution of a people so ancient, and once so illustrious. 'what relation there is between the welch and irish language, or between the language of ireland and that of biscay, deserves enquiry. of these provincial and unextended tongues, it seldom happens that more than one are understood by any one man; and, therefore, it seldom happens that a fair comparison can be made. i hope you will continue to cultivate this kind of learning, which has too long lain neglected, and which, if it be suffered to remain in oblivion for another century, may, perhaps, never be retrieved. as i wish well to all useful undertakings, i would not forbear to let you know how much you deserve in my opinion, from all lovers of study, and how much pleasure your work has given to, sir, 'your most obliged, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, april , .' 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'dr. marsili[ ] of padua, a learned gentleman, and good latin poet, has a mind to see oxford. i have given him a letter to dr. huddesford[ ], and shall be glad if you will introduce him, and shew him any thing in oxford. 'i am printing my new edition of _shakspeare_. 'i long to see you all, but cannot conveniently come yet. you might write to me now and then, if you were good for any thing. but _honores mulant mores_. professors forget their friends[ ]. i shall certainly complain to miss jones[ ]. i am, 'your, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] june , .' 'please to make my compliments to mr. wise.' [page : subscribers to johnson's shakspeare. Ætat .] mr. burney having enclosed to him an extract from the review of his _dictionary_ in the _bibliothèque des savans[ ], and a list of subscribers to his _shakspeare_, which mr. burney had procured in norfolk, he wrote the following answer: 'to mr. burney, in lynne, norfolk. 'sir, 'that i may shew myself sensible of your favours, and not commit the same fault a second time, i make haste to answer the letter which i received this morning. the truth is, the other likewise was received, and i wrote an answer; but being desirous to transmit you some proposals and receipts, i waited till i could find a convenient conveyance, and day was passed after day, till other things drove it from my thoughts; yet not so, but that i remember with great pleasure your commendation of my _dictionary_. your praise was welcome, not only because i believe it was sincere, but because praise has been very scarce. a man of your candour will be surprised when i tell you, that among all my acquaintance there were only two, who upon the publication of my book did not endeavour to depress me with threats of censure from the publick, or with objections learned from those who had learned them from my own preface. your's is the only letter of goodwill that i have received; though, indeed, i am promised something of that sort from sweden. 'how my new edition[ ] will be received i know not; the subscription has not been very successful. i shall publish about march. 'if you can direct me how to send proposals, i should wish that they were in such hands. 'i remember, sir, in some of the first letters with which you favoured me, you mentioned your lady. may i enquire after her? in return for the favours which you have shewn me, it is not much to tell you, that i wish you and her all that can conduce to your happiness. 'i am, sir, 'your most obliged, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'gough-square, dec. , .' [page : brothers and sisters. a.d. .] in we find him, it should seem, in as easy and pleasant a state of existence, as constitutional unhappiness ever permitted him to enjoy. 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, lincolnshire[ ]. 'dearest sir, 'i must indeed have slept very fast, not to have been awakened by your letter. none of your suspicions are true; i am not much richer than when you left me; and, what is worse, my omission of an answer to your first letter, will prove that i am not much wiser. but i go on as i formerly did, designing to be some time or other both rich and wise; and yet cultivate neither mind nor fortune. do you take notice of my example, and learn the danger of delay. when i was as you are now, towering in the confidence of twenty-one, little did i suspect that i should be at forty-nine, what i now am. 'but you do not seem to need my admonition. you are busy in acquiring and in communicating knowledge, and while you are studying, enjoy the end of study, by making others wiser and happier. i was much pleased with the tale that you told me of being tutour to your sisters. i, who have no sisters nor brothers, look with some degree of innocent envy on those who may be said to be born to friends; and cannot see, without wonder, how rarely that native union is afterwards regarded. it sometimes, indeed, happens, that some supervenient cause of discord may overpower this original amity; but it seems to me more frequently thrown away with levity, or lost by negligence, than destroyed by injury or violence. we tell the ladies that good wives make good husbands; i believe it is a more certain position that good brothers make good sisters. 'i am satisfied with your stay at home, as juvenal with his friend's retirement to cumæ: i know that your absence is best, though it be not best for me. 'quamvis digressu veteris confusus amici, laudo tamen vacuis quod sedem figere cumis destinet, atque unum civem donare sibyllæ[ ].' [page : dodsley's cleone. Ætat .] '_langton_ is a good cumæ, but who must be sibylla? mrs. langton is as wise as sibyl, and as good; and will live, if my wishes can prolong life, till she shall in time be as old. but she differs in this, that she has not scattered her precepts in the wind, at least not those which she bestowed upon you. 'the two wartons just looked into the town, and were taken to see _cleone_, where, david[ ] says, they were starved for want of company to keep them warm. david and doddy[ ] have had a new quarrel, and, i think, cannot conveniently quarrel any more. _cleone_ was well acted by all the characters, but bellamy[ ] left nothing to be desired. i went the first night, and supported it, as well as i might; for doddy, you know, is my patron[ ], and i would not desert him. the play was very well received. doddy, after the danger was over, went every night to the stage-side, and cried at the distress of poor cleone[ ]. [page : reynolds's prices for portraits. a.d. .] 'i have left off housekeeping[ ], and therefore made presents of the game which you were pleased to send me. the pheasant i gave to mr. richardson[ ], the bustard to dr. lawrence, and the pot i placed with miss williams, to be eaten by myself. she desires that her compliments and good wishes may be accepted by the family; and i make the same request for myself. 'mr. reynolds has within these few days raised his price to twenty guineas a head[ ], and miss is much employed in miniatures[ ]. i know not any body [else] whose prosperity has encreased since you left them. [page : johnson's shakspeare delayed. Ætat .] 'murphy is to have his _orphan of china_ acted next month; and is therefore, i suppose, happy[ ]. i wish i could tell you of any great good to which i was approaching, but at present my prospects do not much delight me; however, i am always pleased when i find that you, dear sir, remember, 'your affectionate, humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'to mr. burney, at lynne, norfolk. 'sir, 'your kindness is so great, and my claim to any particular regard from you so little, that i am at a loss how to express my sense of your favours[ ]; but i am, indeed, much pleased to be thus distinguished by you. 'i am ashamed to tell you that my _shakspeare_ will not be out so soon as i promised my subscribers; but i did not promise them more than i promised myself. it will, however, be published before summer. 'i have sent you a bundle of proposals, which, i think, do not profess more than i have hitherto performed. i have printed many of the plays, and have hitherto left very few passages unexplained; where i am quite at a loss, i confess my ignorance, which is seldom done by commentators[ ]. 'i have, likewise, enclosed twelve receipts; not that i mean to impose upon you the trouble of pushing them, with more importunity than may seem proper, but that you may rather have more than fewer than you shall want. the proposals you will disseminate as there shall be an opportunity. i once printed them at length in the _chronicle_, and some of my friends (i believe mr. murphy, who formerly wrote the _gray's-inn journal_) introduced them with a splendid encomium. [page : the garret in gough-square. a.d. .] 'since the _life of browne_, i have been a little engaged, from time to time, in the _literary magazine_, but not very lately. i have not the collection by me, and therefore cannot draw out a catalogue of my own parts, but will do it, and send it. do not buy them, for i will gather all those that have anything of mine in them, and send them to mrs. burney, as a small token of gratitude for the regard which she is pleased to bestow upon me. 'i am, sir, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' dr. burney has kindly favoured me with the following memorandum, which i take the liberty to insert in his own genuine easy style. i love to exhibit sketches of my illustrious friend by various eminent hands. 'soon after this, mr. burney, during a visit to the capital, had an interview with him in gough-square, where he dined and drank tea with him, and was introduced to the acquaintance of mrs. williams. after dinner, mr. johnson proposed to mr. burney to go up with him into his garret, which being accepted, he there found about five or six greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. johnson giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only three legs and one arm[ ]. here he gave mr. burney mrs. williams's history, and shewed him some volumes of his _shakspeare_ already printed, to prove that he was in earnest. upon mr. burney's opening the first volume, at the _merchant of venice_, he observed to him, that he seemed to be more severe on warburton than theobald. "o poor tib.! (said johnson) he was ready knocked down to my hands; warburton stands between me and him." "but, sir, (said mr. burney,) you'll have warburton upon your bones, won't you?" "no, sir; he'll not come out: he'll only growl in his den." "but you think, sir, that warburton is a superiour critick to theobald?" "o, sir, he'd make two-and-fifty theobalds, cut into slices[ ]! the worst of warburton is, that he has a rage for saying something, when there's nothing to be said." mr. burney then asked him whether he had seen the letter which warburton had written in answer to a pamphlet addressed "to the most impudent man alive[ ]." he answered in the negative. mr. burney told him it was supposed to be written by mallet. the controversy now raged between the friends of pope and bolingbroke; and warburton and mallet were the leaders of the several parties[ ]. [page : the idler. a.d. .] mr. burney asked him then if he had seen warburton's book against bolingbroke's _philosophy_[ ]? "no, sir, i have never read bolingbroke's impiety, and therefore am not interested about its confutation."' on the fifteenth of april he began a new periodical paper, entitled _the idler_[ ],[*] which came out every saturday in a weekly news-paper, called _the universal chronicle, or weekly gazette_, published by newbery[ ]. these essays were continued till april , . of one hundred and three, their total number, twelve were contributed by his friends; of which, numbers , , and , were written by mr. thomas warton; no. by mr. langton; and nos. , , and , by sir joshua reynolds; the concluding words of no. , 'and pollute his canvas with deformity,' being added by johnson, as sir joshua informed me[ ]. _the idler_ is evidently the work of the same mind which produced _the rambler_, but has less body and more spirit. it has more variety of real life, and greater facility of language. he describes the miseries of idleness, with the lively sensations of one who has felt them[ ]; and in his private memorandums while engaged in it, we find 'this year i hope to learn diligence[ ].' many of these excellent essays were written as hastily as an ordinary letter. mr. langton remembers johnson, when on a visit at oxford[ ], asking him one evening how long it was till the post went out; and on being told about half an hour, he exclaimed, 'then we shall do very well.' he upon this instantly sat down and finished an _idler_, which it was necessary should be in london the next day. mr. langton having signified a wish to read it, 'sir, (said he) you shall not do more than i have done myself.' he then folded it up and sent it off. yet there are in _the idler_ several papers which shew as much profundity of thought, and labour of language, as any of this great man's writings. no. , 'robbery of time;' no. , 'thinking;' no. , 'death of a friend[ ];' no. , 'flight of time;' no. , 'domestick greatness unattainable;' no. , 'self-denial;' no. , 'actual, how short of fancied, excellence[ ];' no. , 'physical evil moral goode[ ];' and his concluding paper on 'the horrour of the last[ ];' will prove this assertion. i know not why a motto, the usual trapping of periodical papers, is prefixed to very few of the _idlers_, as i have heard johnson commend the custom: and he never could be at a loss for one, his memory being stored with innumerable passages of the classicks[ ]. in this series of essays he exhibits admirable instances of grave humour, of which he had an uncommon share. nor on some occasions has he repressed that power of sophistry which he possessed in so eminent a degree. in no. , he treats with the utmost contempt the opinion that our mental faculties depend, in some degree, upon the weather; an opinion, which they who have never experienced its truth are not to be envied; and of which he himself could not but be sensible, as the effects of weather upon him were very visible. yet thus he declaims:-- [page : influence of the weather. a.d. .] 'surely, nothing is more reproachful to a being endowed with reason, than to resign its powers to the influence of the air, and live in dependence on the weather and the wind for the only blessings which nature has put into our power, tranquillity and benevolence. this distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on luxury. to temperance, every day is bright; and every hour is propitious to diligence. he that shall resolutely excite his faculties, or exert his virtues, will soon make himself superiour to the seasons; and may set at defiance the morning mist and the evening damp, the blasts of the east, and the clouds of the south[ ].' [page : the attendants on a court. Ætat .] 'i think the romans call it stoicism[ ].' but in this number of his _idler_ his spirits seem to run riot; for in the wantonness of his disquisition he forgets, for a moment, even the reverence for that which he held in high respect[ ]; and describes 'the attendant on a _court_,' as one 'whose business, is to watch the looks of a being, weak and foolish as himself[ ].' [page : johnson not a plagiary. a.d. .] alas! it is too certain, that where the frame has delicate fibres, and there is a fine sensibility, such influences of the air are irresistible. he might as well have bid defiance to the ague, the palsy, and all other bodily disorders, such boasting of the mind is false elevation. his unqualified ridicule of rhetorical gesture or action is not, surely, a test of truth; yet we cannot help admiring how well it is adapted to produce the effect which he wished. 'neither the judges of our laws, nor the representatives of our people, would be much affected by laboured gesticulation, or believe any man the more because he rolled his eyes, or puffed his cheeks, or spread abroad his arms, or stamped the ground, or thumped his breast; or turned his eyes sometimes to the ceiling, and sometimes to the floor[ ].' a casual coincidence with other writers, or an adoption of a sentiment or image which has been found in the writings of another, and afterwards appears in the mind as one's own, is not unfrequent. the richness of johnson's fancy, which could supply his page abundantly on all occasions, and the strength of his memory, which at once detected the real owner of any thought, made him less liable to the imputation of plagiarism than, perhaps, any of our writers[ ]. in _the idler_, however, there is a paper[ ], in which conversation is assimilated to a bowl of punch, where there is the same train of comparison as in a poem by blacklock, in his collection published in [ ], in which a parallel is ingeniously drawn between human life and that liquor. it ends,-- 'say, then, physicians of each kind, who cure the body or the mind, what harm in drinking can there be, since punch and life so well agree?' [page : profits on the idler. Ætat .] to _the idler_, when collected in volumes[ ], he added, beside the 'essay on epitaphs' and the 'dissertation on those of pope[ ],' an essay on the 'bravery of the english common soldiers.' he, however, omitted one of the original papers, which in the folio copy is no. [ ]. 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'your notes upon my poet were very acceptable. i beg that you will be so kind as to continue your searches. it will be reputable to my work, and suitable to your professorship, to have something of yours in the notes. as you have given no directions about your name, i shall therefore put it. i wish your brother would take the same trouble. a commentary must arise from the fortuitous discoveries of many men in devious walks of literature. some of your remarks are on plays already printed: but i purpose to add an appendix of notes, so that nothing comes too late. 'you give yourself too much uneasiness, dear sir, about the loss of the papers[ ]. the loss is nothing, if nobody has found them; nor even then, perhaps, if the numbers be known. you are not the only friend that has had the same mischance. you may repair your want out of a stock, which is deposited with mr. allen, of magdalen-hall; or out of a parcel which i have just sent to mr. chambers[ ] for the use of any body that will be so kind as to want them. mr. langtons are well; and miss roberts[ ], whom i have at last brought to speak, upon the information which you gave me, that she had something to say. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london] april , .' [page : mr. langton as an undergraduate. a.d. .] 'to the same. 'dear sir, 'you will receive this by mr. baretti, a gentleman particularly intitled to the notice and kindness of the professor of poesy. he has time but for a short stay, and will be glad to have it filled up with as much as he can hear and see. 'in recommending another to your favour, i ought not to omit thanks for the kindness which you have shewn to myself. have you any more notes on shakspeare? i shall be glad of them. 'i see your pupil sometimes[ ]: his mind is as exalted as his stature[ ]. i am half afraid of him; but he is no less amiable than formidable. he will, if the forwardness of his spring be not blasted, be a credit to you, and to the university. he brings some of my plays[ ] with him, which he has my permission to shew you, on condition you will hide them from every body else. [page : experience compared with expectation. Ætat .] 'i am, dear sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' '[london,] june , .' 'to bennet langton, esq., of trinity college, oxford. 'dear sir, 'though i might have expected to hear from you, upon your entrance into a new state of life at a new place, yet recollecting, (not without some degree of shame,) that i owe you a letter upon an old account, i think it my part to write first. this, indeed, i do not only from complaisance but from interest; for living on in the old way, i am very glad of a correspondent so capable as yourself, to diversify the hours. you have, at present, too many novelties about you to need any help from me to drive along your time. 'i know not any thing more pleasant, or more instructive, than to compare experience with expectation, or to register from time to time the difference between idea and reality. it is by this kind of observation that we grow daily less liable to be disappointed[ ]. you, who are very capable of anticipating futurity, and raising phantoms before your own eyes, must often have imagined to yourself an academical life, and have conceived what would be the manners, the views, and the conversation, of men devoted to letters; how they would choose their companions, how they would direct their studies, and how they would regulate their lives. let me know what you expected, and what you have found. at least record it to yourself before custom has reconciled you to the scenes before you, and the disparity of your discoveries to your hopes has vanished from your mind. it is a rule never to be forgotten, that whatever strikes strongly, should be described while the first impression remains fresh upon the mind. [page : a violent death. a.d. .] 'i love, dear sir, to think on you, and therefore, should willingly write more to you, but that the post will not now give me leave to do more than send my compliments to mr. warton, and tell you that i am, dear sir, most affectionately, 'your very humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , [ ].' 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'i should be sorry to think that what engrosses the attention of my friend, should have no part of mine. your mind is now full of the fate of dury[ ]; but his fate is past, and nothing remains but to try what reflection will suggest to mitigate the terrours of a violent death, which is more formidable at the first glance, than on a nearer and more steady view. a violent death is never very painful; the only danger is lest it should be unprovided. but if a man can be supposed to make no provision for death in war, what can be the state that would have awakened him to the care of futurity? when would that man have prepared himself to die, who went to seek death without preparation? what then can be the reason why we lament more him that dies of a wound, than him that dies of a fever? a man that languishes with disease, ends his life with more pain, but with less virtue; he leaves no example to his friends, nor bequeaths any honour to his descendants. the only reason why we lament a soldier's death, is, that we think he might have lived longer; yet this cause of grief is common to many other kinds of death which are not so passionately bewailed. the truth is, that every death is violent which is the effect of accident; every death, which is not gradually brought on by the miseries of age, or when life is extinguished for any other reason than that it is burnt out. he that dies before sixty, of a cold or consumption, dies, in reality, by a violent death; yet his death is borne with patience only because the cause of his untimely end is silent and invisible. let us endeavour to see things as they are, and then enquire whether we ought to complain. whether to see life as it is, will give us much consolation, i know not; but the consolation which is drawn from truth, if any there be, is solid and durable; that which may be derived from errour must be, like its original, fallacious and fugitive. i am, dear, dear sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'sept. , .' [page : the death of johnson's mother. Ætat .] : Ætat. .--in , in the month of january, his mother died at the great age of ninety, an event which deeply affected him[ ]; not that 'his mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality[ ];' but that his reverential affection for her was not abated by years, as indeed he retained all his tender feelings even to the latest period of his life[ ]. i have been told that he regretted much his not having gone to visit his mother for several years, previous to her death[ ]. but he was constantly engaged in literary labours which confined him to london; and though he had not the comfort of seeing his aged parent, he contributed liberally to her support[ ]. [page : rasselas. a.d. .] soon after this event, he wrote his _rasselas_[ ], _prince of abyssinia_; concerning the publication of which sir john hawkins guesses vaguely and idly[ ], instead of having taken the trouble to inform himself with authentick precision. not to trouble my readers with a repetition of the knight's reveries, i have to mention, that the late mr. strahan the printer told me, that johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray the expence of his mother's funeral, and pay some little debts which she had left. he told sir joshua reynolds that he composed it in the evenings of one week, sent it to the press in portions as it was written, and had never since read it over[ ]. mr. strahan, mr. johnston, and mr. dodsley purchased it for a hundred pounds[ ], but afterwards paid him twenty-five pounds more, when it came to a second edition. [page : rasselas and candide. a.d. .] considering the large sums which have been received for compilations, and works requiring not much more genius than compilations[ ], we cannot but wonder at the very low price which he was content to receive for this admirable performance; which, though he had written nothing else, would have rendered his name immortal in the world of literature. none of his writings has been so extensively diffused over europe; for it has been translated into most, if not all, of the modern languages[ ]. this tale, with all the charms of oriental imagery, and all the force and beauty of which the english language is capable, leads us through the most important scenes of human life, and shews us that this stage of our being is full of 'vanity and vexation of spirit[ ].' to those who look no further than the present life, or who maintain that human nature has not fallen from the state in which it was created, the instruction of this sublime story will be of no avail. but they who think justly, and feel with strong sensibility, will listen with eagerness and admiration to its truth and wisdom. voltaire's _candide_, written to refute the system of optimism, which it has accomplished with brilliant success, is wonderfully similar in its plan and conduct to johnson's _rasselas_; insomuch, that i have heard johnson say[ ], that if they had not been published so closely one after the other that there was not time for imitation, it would have been in vain to deny that the scheme of that which came latest was taken from the other. though the proposition illustrated by both these works was the same, namely, that in our present state there is more evil than good, the intention of the writers was very different. voltaire, i am afraid, meant only by wanton profaneness to obtain a sportive victory over religion, and to discredit the belief of a superintending providence: johnson meant, by shewing the unsatisfactory nature of things temporal, to direct the hopes of man to things eternal. _rasselas_, as was observed to me by a very accomplished lady, may be considered as a more enlarged and more deeply philosophical discourse in prose, upon the interesting truth, which in his _vanity of human wishes_ he had so successfully enforced in verse. the fund of thinking which this work contains is such, that almost every sentence of it may furnish a subject of long meditation. i am not satisfied if a year passes without my having read it through; and at every perusal, my admiration of the mind which produced it is so highly raised, that i can scarcely believe that i had the honour of enjoying the intimacy of such a man. [page : apparitions. Ætat .] i restrain myself from quoting passages from this excellent work, or even referring to them, because i should not know what to select, or rather, what to omit. i shall, however, transcribe one, as it shews how well he could state the arguments of those who believe in the appearance of departed spirits; a doctrine which it is a mistake to suppose that he himself ever positively held[ ]: 'if all your fear be of apparitions, (said the prince,) i will promise you safety: there is no danger from the dead; he that is once buried will be seen no more. 'that the dead are seen no more, (said imlac,) i will not undertake to maintain, against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages, and of all nations. there is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions of the dead are not related and believed. this opinion, which prevails[ ] as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only by its truth; those that never heard of one another, would not have agreed in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. that it is doubted by single cavillers, can very little weaken the general evidence; and some who deny it with their tongues, confess it by their fears.' notwithstanding my high admiration of _rasselas_, i will not maintain that the 'morbid melancholy[ ]' in johnson's constitution may not, perhaps, have made life appear to him more insipid and unhappy than it generally is; for i am sure that he had less enjoyment from it than i have. yet, whatever additional shade his own particular sensations may have thrown on his representation of life, attentive observation and close enquiry have convinced me, that there is too much of reality in the gloomy picture. the truth, however, is, that we judge of the happiness and misery of life differently at different times, according to the state of our changeable frame. i always remember a remark made to me by a turkish lady, educated in france, '_ma foi, monsieur, notre bonheur dépend de la façon que notre sang circule_.' this have i learnt from a pretty hard course of experience, and would, from sincere benevolence, impress upon all who honour this book with a perusal, that until a steady conviction is obtained, that the present life is an imperfect state, and only a passage to a better, if we comply with the divine scheme of progressive improvement; and also that it is a part of the mysterious plan of providence, that intellectual beings must 'be made perfect through suffering[ ];' there will be a continual recurrence of disappointment and uneasiness. but if we walk with hope in 'the mid-day sun' of revelation, our temper and disposition will be such, that the comforts and enjoyments in our way will be relished, while we patiently support the inconveniences and pains. after much speculation and various reasonings, i acknowledge myself convinced of the truth of voltaire's conclusion, '_après tout c èst un monde passable_[ ].' but we must not think too deeply; 'where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise[ ],' is, in many respects, more than poetically just. let us cultivate, under the command of good principles, '_la théorie des sensations agréables_;' and, as mr. burke once admirably counselled a grave and anxious gentleman, 'live pleasant[ ].' [page : 'live pleasant.' a.d. .] the effect of _rasselas_, and of johnson's other moral tales, is thus beautifully illustrated by mr. courtenay: 'impressive truth, in splendid fiction drest, checks the vain wish, and calms the troubled breast; o'er the dark mind a light celestial throws, and sooths the angry passions to repose; as oil effus'd illumes and smooths the deep, when round the bark the swelling surges sweep[ ].' [page : the idler pirated. Ætat .] it will be recollected, that during all this year he carried on his idler[ ], and, no doubt, was proceeding, though slowly, in his edition of _shakspeare_. he, however, from that liberality which never failed, when called upon to assist other labourers in literature, found time to translate for mrs. lennox's english version of brumoy, 'a dissertation on the greek comedy,'[dagger] and 'the general conclusion of the book.'[dagger] an inquiry into the state of foreign countries was an object that seems at all times to have interested johnson. hence mr. newbery found no great difficulty in persuading him to write the introduction[*] to a collection of voyages and travels published by him under the title of _the world displayed_; the first volume of which appeared this year, and the remaining volumes in subsequent years. [page : parental tyranny. a.d. .] i would ascribe to this year[ ] the following letter to a son of one of his early friends at lichfield, mr. joseph simpson, barrister, and authour of a tract entitled _reflections on the study of the law_. [page : an excursion to oxford. Ætat .] 'if you married imprudently, you miscarried at your own hazard, at an age when you had a right of choice. it would be hard if the man might not choose his own wife, who has a right to plead before the judges of his country. 'if your imprudence has ended in difficulties and inconveniences, you are yourself to support them; and, with the help of a little better health, you would support them and conquer them. surely, that want which accident and sickness produces, is to be supported in every region of humanity, though there were neither friends nor fathers in the world. you have certainly from your father the highest claim of charity, though none of right; and therefore i would counsel you to omit no decent nor manly degree of importunity. your debts in the whole are not large, and of the whole but a small part is troublesome. small debts are like small shot; they are rattling on every side, and can scarcely be escaped without a wound: great debts are like cannon; of loud noise, but little danger. you must, therefore, be enabled to discharge petty debts, that you may have leisure, with security, to struggle with the rest. neither the great nor little debts disgrace you. i am sure you have my esteem for the courage with which you contracted them, and the spirit with which you endure them. i wish my esteem could be of more use. i have been invited, or have invited myself, to several parts of the kingdom; and will not incommode my dear lucy by coming to lichfield, while her present lodging is of any use to her. i hope, in a few days, to be at leisure, and to make visits. whither i shall fly is matter of no importance. a man unconnected is at home every where; unless he may be said to be at home no where. i am sorry, dear sir, that where you have parents, a man of your merits should not have an home. i wish i could give it you. i am, my dear sir, 'affectionately yours, 'sam. johnson.' he now refreshed himself by an excursion to oxford, of which the following short characteristical notice, in his own words, is preserved:-- '----[ ] is now making tea for me. i have been in my gown ever since i came here[ ]. it was, at my first coming, quite new and handsome. i have swum thrice, which i had disused for many years. i have proposed to vansittart[ ], climbing over the wall, but he has refused me. and i have clapped my hands till they are sore, at dr. king's speech[ ].' [page : the great cham of literature. a.d. .] his negro servant, francis barber, having left him, and been some time at sea, not pressed as has been supposed, but with his own consent, it appears from a letter to john wilkes, esq., from dr. smollet, that his master kindly interested himself in procuring his release from a state of life of which johnson always expressed the utmost abhorrence. he said, 'no man will be a sailor who has contrivance enough to get himself into a jail; for being in a ship is being in a jail, with the chance of being drowned[ ].' and at another time, 'a man in a jail has more room, better food, and commonly better company[ ].' the letter was as follows:-- [page : johnson's black servant at sea. Ætat .] 'chelsea, march , . 'dear sir, 'i am again your petitioner, in behalf of that great cham[ ] of literature, samuel johnson. his black servant, whose name is francis barber, has been pressed on board the stag frigate, captain angel, and our lexicographer is in great distress. he says the boy is a sickly lad, of a delicate frame, and particularly subject to a malady in his throat, which renders him very unfit for his majesty's service. you know what manner of animosity the said johnson has against you[ ]; and i dare say you desire no other opportunity of resenting it than that of laying him under an obligation. he was humble enough to desire my assistance on this occasion, though he and i were never cater-cousins; and i gave him to understand that i would make application to my friend mr. wilkes, who, perhaps, by his interest with dr. hay and mr. elliot, might be able to procure the discharge of his lacquey. it would be superfluous to say more on the subject, which i leave to your own consideration; but i cannot let slip this opportunity of declaring that i am, with the most inviolable esteem and attachment, dear sir, 'your affectionate, obliged, humble servant, 't. smollet.' mr. wilkes, who upon all occasions has acted, as a private gentleman, with most polite liberality, applied to his friend sir george hay, then one of the lords commissioners of the admiralty; and francis barber was discharged, as he has told me, without any wish of his own. he found his old master in chambers in the inner temple[ ], and returned to his service. [page : life in inner temple-lane. a.d. .] what particular new scheme of life johnson had in view this year, i have not discovered; but that he meditated one of some sort, is clear from his private devotions, in which we find[ ], 'the change of outward things which i am now to make;' and, 'grant me the grace of thy holy spirit, that the course which i am now beginning may proceed according to thy laws, and end in the enjoyment of thy favour.' but he did not, in fact, make any external or visible change[ ]. [page : blackfriars-bridge. Ætat .] at this time, there being a competition among the architects of london to be employed in the building of blackfriars-bridge, a question was very warmly agitated whether semicircular or elliptical arches were preferable. in the design offered by mr. mylne the elliptical form was adopted, and therefore it was the great object of his rivals to attack it. johnson's regard for his friend mr. gwyn induced him to engage in this controversy against mr. mylne[ ]; and after being at considerable pains to study the subject, he wrote three several letters in the _gazetteer_, in opposition to his plan. if it should be remarked that this was a controversy which lay quite out of johnson's way, let it be remembered, that after all, his employing his powers of reasoning and eloquence upon a subject which he had studied on the moment, is not more strange than what we often observe in lawyers, who, as _quicquid agunt homines_[ ] is the matter of law-suits, are sometimes obliged to pick up a temporary knowledge of an art or science, of which they understood nothing till their brief was delivered, and appear to be much masters of it. in like manner, members of the legislature frequently introduce and expatiate upon subjects of which they have informed themselves for the occasion. [page : relief of the french prisoners. Ætat .] : Ætat. ].--in he wrote _an address of the painters to george iii. on his accession to the throne of these kingdoms_,[dagger] which no monarch ever ascended with more sincere congratulations from his people. two generations of foreign princes had prepared their minds to rejoice in having again a king, who gloried in being 'born a briton[ ].' he also wrote for mr. baretti, the dedication[dagger] of his _italian and english dictionary_ to the marquis of abreu, then envoy-extraordinary from spain at the court of great britain. [page : mary queen of scots. a.d. .] johnson was now neither very idle, nor very busy with his _shakspeare_; for i can find no other public composition by him except an introduction to the proceedings of the committee for cloathing the french prisoners[ ];[*] one of the many proofs that he was ever awake to the calls of humanity; and an account which he gave in the gentlemen's magazine of mr. tytler's acute and able vindication of mary queen of scots.[*] the generosity of johnson's feelings shines forth in the following sentence:-- "it has now been fashionable, for near half a century, to defame and vilify the house of stuart and, to exalt and magnify the reign of elizabeth. the stuarts have found few apologists, for the dead cannot pay for praise; and who will, without reward, oppose the tide of popularity? yet there remains still among us, not wholly extinguished, a zeal for truth, a desire of establishing right in opposition to fashion[ ]". in this year i have not discovered a single private letter, written by him to any of his friends. it should seem, however, that he had at this period a floating intention of writing a history of the recent and wonderful successes of the british arms in all quarters of the globe; for among his resolutions or memorandums, september , 'send for books for hist. of war[ ].' how much is it to be regretted that this intention was not fulfilled. his majestick expression would have carried down to the latest posterity the glorious achievements of his country with the same fervent glow which they produced on the mind of the time. he would have been under no temptation to deviate in any degree from truth, which he held very sacred, or to take a licence, which a learned divine told me he once seemed, in a conversation, jocularly to allow to historians. [page : consecrated lies. Ætat .] 'there are (said he) inexcusable lies, and consecrated lies. for instance, we are told that on the arrival of the news of the unfortunate battle of fontenoy, every heart beat, and every eye was in tears. now we know, that no man eat his dinner the worse[ ], but there _should_ have been all this concern; and to say there _was_, (smiling) may be reckoned a consecrated lie.' this year mr. murphy, having thought himself ill-treated by the reverend dr. francklin, who was one of the writers of _the critical review_, published an indignant vindication in _a poetical epistle to samuel johnson, a.m_., in which he compliments johnson in a just and elegant manner: transcendant genius! whose prolific vein ne'er knew the frigid poet's toil and pain; to whom apollo opens all his store, and every muse presents her sacred lore; say, pow'rful johnson, whence thy verse is fraught with so much grace and such energy of thought; whether thy juvenal instructs the age in chaster numbers, and new-points his rage; or fair irene sees, alas! too late. her innocence exchang'd for guilty state; whatever you write, in every golden line sublimity and elegance combine; thy nervous phrase impresses every soul, while harmony gives rapture to the whole.' [page : arthur murphy. a.d. .] again, towards the conclusion: 'thou then, my friend, who seest the dang'rous strife in which some demon bids me plunge my life, to the aonian fount direct my feet, say where the nine thy lonely musings meet? where warbles to thy ear the sacred throng, thy moral sense, thy dignity of song? tell, for you can, by what unerring art you wake to finer feelings every heart; in each bright page some truth important give, and bid to future times thy rambler live[ ]? i take this opportunity to relate the manner in which an acquaintance first commenced between dr. johnson and mr. murphy. during the publication of _the grays-inn journal_, a periodical paper which was successfully carried on by mr. murphy alone, when a very young man, he happened to be in the country with mr. foote; and having mentioned that he was obliged to go to london in order to get ready for the press in one of the numbers of that _journal_, foote said to him, 'you need not to go on that account. here is a french magazine, in which you will find a very pretty oriental tale; translate that, and send it to your printer.' mr. murphy having read the tale, was highly pleased with it, and followed foote's advice. when he returned to town, this tale was pointed out to him in _the rambler_, from whence it had been translated into the french magazine. mr. murphy then waited upon johnson, to explain this curious incident. his talents, literature, and gentleman-like manners, were soon perceived by johnson, and a friendship was formed which was never broken[ ]. [page : letter to mr. langston. Ætat .] 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'you that travel about the world, have more materials for letters, than i who stay at home; and should, therefore, write with frequency equal to your opportunities. i should be glad to have all england surveyed by you, if you would impart your observations in narratives as agreeable as your last. knowledge is always to be wished to those who can communicate it well. while you have been riding and running, and seeing the tombs of the learned, and the camps of the valiant, i have only staid at home, and intended to do great things, which i have not done. beau[ ] went away to cheshire, and has not yet found his way back. chambers passed the vacation at oxford. 'i am very sincerely solicitous for the preservation or curing of mr. langton's sight, and am glad that the chirurgeon at coventry gives him so much hope. mr. sharpe is of opinion that the tedious maturation of the cataract is a vulgar errour, and that it may be removed as soon as it is formed. this notion deserves to be considered; i doubt whether it be universally true; but if it be true in some cases, and those cases can be distinguished, it may save a long and uncomfortable delay. 'of dear mrs. langton you give me no account; which is the less friendly, as you know how highly i think of her, and how much i interest myself in her health. i suppose you told her of my opinion, and likewise suppose it was not followed; however, i still believe it to be right. [page : thomas sheridan. a.d. .] 'let me hear from you again, wherever you are, or whatever you are doing; whether you wander or sit still, plant trees or make _rusticks_,[ ] play with your sisters or muse alone; and in return i will tell you the success of sheridan[ ], who at this instant is playing cato, and has already played richard twice. he had more company the second than the first night, and will make, i believe, a good figure in the whole, though his faults seem to be very many; some of natural deficience, and some of laborious affectation. he has, i think, no power of assuming either that dignity or elegance which some men, who have little of either in common life, can exhibit on the stage. his voice when strained is unpleasing, and when low is not always heard. he seems to think too much on the audience, and turns his face too often to the galleries[ ]. 'however, i wish him well; and among other reasons, because i like his wife[ ]. 'make haste to write to, dear sir, 'your most affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'oct. , .' [page : instances of literary fraud. Ætat .] : Ætat. .--in johnson appears to have done little. he was still, no doubt, proceeding in his edition of _shakespeare_; but what advances he made in it cannot be ascertained. he certainly was at this time not active; for in his scrupulous examination of himself on easter eve, he laments, in his too rigorous mode of censuring his own conduct, that his life, since the communion of the preceding easter, had been 'dissipated and useless[ ].' he, however, contributed this year the preface[*] to _rolt's dictionary of trade and commerce_, in which he displays such a clear and comprehensive knowledge of the subject, as might lead the reader to think that its authour had devoted all his life to it. i asked him whether he knew much of rolt, and of his work. 'sir, (said he) i never saw the man, and never read the book. the booksellers wanted a preface to a _dictionary of trade and commerce_. i knew very well what such a dictionary should be, and i wrote a preface accordingly.' rolt, who wrote a great deal for the booksellers, was, as johnson told me, a singular character[ ]. though not in the least acquainted with him, he used to say, 'i am just come from sam. johnson.' this was a sufficient specimen of his vanity and impudence. but he gave a more eminent proof of it in our sister kingdom, as dr. johnson informed me. when akenside's _pleasures of the imagination_ first came out, he did not put his name to the poem. rolt went over to dublin, published an edition of it, and put his own name to it. upon the fame of this he lived for several months, being entertained at the best tables as 'the ingenious mr. rolt[ ].' his conversation indeed, did not discover much of the fire of a poet; but it was recollected, that both addison and thomson were equally dull till excited by wine. akenside having been informed of this imposition, vindicated his right by publishing the poem with its real authour's name. several instances of such literary fraud have been detected. the reverend dr. campbell, of st. andrew's, wrote _an enquiry into the original of moral virtue_, the manuscript of which he sent to mr. innes, a clergyman in england, who was his countryman and acquaintance. innes published it with his own name to it; and before the imposition was discovered, obtained considerable promotion, as a reward of his merit[ ]. [page : the man of feeling. a.d. .] the celebrated dr. hugh blair, and his cousin mr. george bannatine, when students in divinity, wrote a poem, entitled, _the resurrection_, copies of which were handed about in manuscript. they were, at length, very much surprised to see a pompous edition of it in folio, dedicated to the princess dowager of wales, by a dr. douglas, as his own. some years ago a little novel, entitled _the man of feeling_, was assumed by mr. eccles, a young irish clergyman, who was afterwards drowned near bath[ ]. he had been at the pains to transcribe the whole book, with blottings, interlineations, and corrections, that it might be shewn to several people as an original. it was, in truth, the production of mr. henry mackenzie, an attorney in the exchequer at edinburgh, who is the authour of several other ingenious pieces; but the belief with regard to mr. eccles became so general, that it was thought necessary for messieurs strahan and cadell to publish an advertisement in the newspapers, contradicting the report, and mentioning that they purchase the copyright of mr. mackenzie[ ]. i can conceive this kind of fraud to be very easily practised with successful effrontery. the _filiation_ of a literary performance is difficult of proof; seldom is there any witness present at its birth. a man, either in confidence or by improper means, obtains possession of a copy of it in manuscript, and boldly publishes it as his own. the true authour, in many cases, may not be able to make his title clear. johnson, indeed, from the peculiar features of his literary offspring, might bid defiance to any attempt to appropriate them to others. 'but shakspeare's magick could not copied be, within that circle none durst walk but he[ ]!' [page : letter to mr. baretti. Ætat .] he this year lent his friendly assistance to correct and improve a pamphlet written by mr. gwyn, the architect, entitled, _thoughts on the coronation of george iii_.[*] johnson had now for some years admitted mr. baretti to his intimacy; nor did their friendship cease upon their being separated by baretti's revisiting his native country, as appears from johnson's letters to him. 'to mr. joseph baretti, at milan[ ]. [page : baretti's knowledge of languages. a.d. .] 'you reproach me very often with parsimony of writing: but you may discover by the extent of my paper, that i design to recompence rarity by length. a short letter to a distant friend is, in my opinion, an insult like that of a slight bow or cursory salutation;--a proof of unwillingness to do much, even where there is a necessity of doing something. yet it must be remembered, that he who continues the same course of life in the same place, will have little to tell. one week and one year are very like one another. the silent changes made by time are not always perceived; and if they are not perceived, cannot be recounted. i have risen and lain down, talked and mused, while you have roved over a considerable part of europe[ ]; yet i have not envied my baretti any of his pleasures, though, perhaps, i have envied others his company: and i am glad to have other nations made acquainted with the character of the english, by a traveller who has so nicely inspected our manners, and so successfully studied our literature. i received your kind letter from falmouth, in which you gave me notice of your departure for lisbon, and another from lisbon, in which you told me, that you were to leave portugal in a few days. to either of these how could any answer be returned? i have had a third from turin, complaining that i have not answered the former. your english style still continues in its purity and vigour. with vigour your genius will supply it; but its purity must be continued by close attention. to use two languages familiarly, and without contaminating one by the other, is very difficult: and to use more than two is hardly to be hoped[ ]. the praises which some have received for their multiplicity of languages, may be sufficient to excite industry, but can hardly generate confidence. 'i know not whether i can heartily rejoice at the kind reception which you have found, or at the popularity to which you are exalted. i am willing that your merit should be distinguished; but cannot wish that your affections may be gained. i would have you happy wherever you are: yet i would have you wish to return to england. if ever you visit us again, you will find the kindness of your friends undiminished. to tell you how many enquiries are made after you, would be tedious, or if not tedious, would be vain; because you may be told in a very few words, that all who knew you wish you well; and that all that you embraced at your departure, will caress you at your return: therefore do not let italian academicians nor italian ladies drive us from your thoughts. you may find among us what you will leave behind, soft smiles and easy sonnets. yet i shall not wonder if all our invitations should be rejected: for there is a pleasure in being considerable at home, which is not easily resisted. [page : the exhibition of pictures. Ætat .] 'by conducting mr. southwell[ ] to venice, you fulfilled, i know, the original contract: yet i would wish you not wholly to lose him from your notice, but to recommend him to such acquaintance as may best secure him from suffering by his own follies, and to take such general care both of his safety and his interest as may come within your power. his relations will thank you for any such gratuitous attention: at least they will not blame you for any evil that may happen, whether they thank you or not for any good. 'you know that we have a new king and a new parliament. of the new parliament fitzherbert[ ] is a member. we were so weary of our old king, that we are much pleased with his successor; of whom we are so much inclined to hope great things, that most of us begin already to believe them. the young man is hitherto blameless; but it would be unreasonable to expect much from the immaturity of juvenile years, and the ignorance of princely education. he has been long in the hands of the scots, and has already favoured them more than the english will contentedly endure. but, perhaps, he scarcely knows whom he has distinguished, or whom he has disgusted. 'the artists have instituted a yearly exhibition[ ] of pictures and statues, in imitation, as i am told, of foreign academies. this year was the second exhibition. they please themselves much with the multitude of spectators, and imagine that the english school will rise in reputation. reynolds is without a rival, and continues to add thousands to thousands, which he deserves, among other excellencies, by retaining his kindness for baretti. this exhibition has filled the heads of the artists and lovers of art. surely life, if it be not long, is tedious, since we are forced to call in the assistance of so many trifles[ ] to rid us of our time, of that time which never can return. [page : johnson's indifference to pictures. a.d. .] [page : monastick life. Ætat .] 'i know my baretti will not be satisfied with a letter in which i give him no account of myself: yet what account shall i give him? i have not, since the day of our separation, suffered or done any thing considerable. the only change in my way of life is, that i have frequented the theatre more than in former seasons. but i have gone thither only to escape from myself. we have had many new farces, and the comedy called _the jealous wife_[ ], which, though not written with much genius, was yet so well adapted to the stage, and so well exhibited by the actors, that it was crowded for near twenty nights. i am digressing from myself to the play-house; but a barren plan must be filled with episodes. of myself i have nothing to say, but that i have hitherto lived without the concurrence of my own judgment; yet i continue to flatter myself, that, when you return, you will find me mended. i do not wonder that, where the monastick life is permitted, every order finds votaries, and every monastery inhabitants. men will submit to any rule, by which they may be exempted from the tyranny of caprice and of chance. they are glad to supply by external authority their own want of constancy and resolution, and court the government of others, when long experience has convinced them of their own inability to govern themselves[ ]. if i were to visit italy, my curiosity would be more attracted by convents than by palaces: though i am afraid that i should find expectation in both places equally disappointed, and life in both places supported with impatience and quitted with reluctance. that it must be so soon quitted, is a powerful remedy against impatience; but what shall free us from reluctance? those who have endeavoured to teach us to die well, have taught few to die willingly: yet i cannot but hope that a good life might end at last in a contented death. 'you see to what a train of thought i am drawn by the mention of myself. let me now turn my attention upon you. i hope you take care to keep an exact journal, and to register all occurrences and observations[ ]; for your friends here expect such a book of travels as has not been often seen. you have given us good specimens in your letters from lisbon. i wish you had staid longer in spain[ ], for no country is less known to the rest of europe; but the quickness of your discernment must make amends for the celerity of your motions. he that knows which way to direct his view, sees much in a little time. [page : chronology of the scriptures. a.d. .] 'write to me very often, and i will not neglect to write to you; and i may, perhaps, in time, get something to write: at least, you will know by my letters, whatever else they may have or want, that i continue to be 'your most affectionate friend, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, june , [ ].' : Ætat. .--in he wrote for the reverend dr. kennedy, rector of bradley in derbyshire, in a strain of very courtly elegance, a dedication to the king[*] of that gentleman's work, entitled, _a complete system of astronomical chronology, unfolding the scriptures_. he had certainly looked at this work before it was printed; for the concluding paragraph is undoubtedly of his composition, of which let my readers judge: 'thus have i endeavoured to free religion and history from the darkness of a disputed and uncertain chronology; from difficulties which have hitherto appeared insuperable, and darkness which no luminary of learning has hitherto been able to dissipate. i have established the truth of the mosaical account, by evidence which no transcription can corrupt, no negligence can lose, and no interest can pervert. i have shewn that the universe bears witness to the inspiration of its historian, by the revolution of its orbs and the succession of its seasons; _that the stars in their courses fight against_[ ] incredulity, that the works of god give hourly confirmation to the _law_, the _prophets_, and the _gospel_, of which _one day telleth another, and one night certifieth another_[ ]; and that the validity of the sacred writings can never be denied, while the moon shall increase and wane, and the sun shall know his going down[ ].' [page : the care of living. Ætat .] he this year wrote also the dedication[dagger] to the earl of middlesex of mrs lennox's _female quixote_[ ], and the preface to the _catalogue of the artists' exhibition_.[dagger] the following letter, which, on account of its intrinsick merit, it would have been unjust both to johnson and the publick to have with-held, was obtained for me by the solicitation of my friend mr. seward: 'to dr. staunton, (now sir george staunton, baronet[ ].) 'dear sir, 'i make haste to answer your kind letter, in hope of hearing again from you before you leave us. i cannot but regret that a man of your qualifications should find it necessary to seek an establishment in guadaloupe, which if a peace should restore to the french[ ], i shall think it some alleviation of the loss, that it must restore likewise dr. staunton to the english. 'it is a melancholy consideration, that so much of our time is necessarily to be spent upon the care of living, and that we can seldom obtain ease in one respect but by resigning it in another; yet i suppose we are by this dispensation not less happy in the whole, than if the spontaneous bounty of nature poured all that we want into our hands. a few, if they were thus left to themselves, would, perhaps, spend their time in laudable pursuits; but the greater part would prey upon the quiet of each other, or, in the want of other objects, would prey upon themselves. 'this, however, is our condition, which we must improve and solace as we can: and though we cannot choose always our place of residence, we may in every place find rational amusements, and possess in every place the comforts of piety and a pure conscience. 'in america there is little to be observed except natural curiosities. the new world must have many vegetables and animals with which philosophers are but little acquainted. i hope you will furnish yourself with some books of natural history, and some glasses and other instruments of observation. trust as little as you can to report; examine all you can by your own senses. i do not doubt but you will be able to add much to knowledge, and, perhaps, to medicine. wild nations trust to simples; and, perhaps, the peruvian bark is not the only specifick which those extensive regions may afford us. [page : improper expectations. a.d. .] 'wherever you are, and whatever be your fortune, be certain, dear sir, that you carry with you my kind wishes; and that whether you return hither, or stay in the other hemisphere[ ], to hear that you are happy will give pleasure to, sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , .' a lady having at this time solicited him to obtain the archbishop of canterbury's patronage to have her son sent to the university, one of those solicitations which are too frequent, where people, anxious for a particular object, do not consider propriety, or the opportunity which the persons whom they solicit have to assist them, he wrote to her the following answer, with a copy of which i am favoured by the reverend dr. farmer[ ], master of emanuel college, cambridge. 'madam, 'i hope you will believe that my delay in answering your letter could proceed only from my unwillingness to destroy any hope that you had formed. hope is itself a species of happiness, and, perhaps, the chief happiness which this world affords[ ]: but, like all other pleasures immoderately enjoyed, the excesses of hope must be expiated by pain; and expectations improperly indulged, must end in disappointment. if it be asked, what is the improper expectation which it is dangerous to indulge, experience will quickly answer, that it is such expectation as is dictated not by reason, but by desire; expectation raised, not by the common occurrences of life, but by the wants of the expectant; an expectation that requires the common course of things to be changed, and the general rules of action to be broken. [page : johnson's second letter to baretti. Ætat .] 'when you made your request to me, you should have considered, madam, what you were asking. you ask me to solicit a great man, to whom i never spoke, for a young person whom i had never seen, upon a supposition which i had no means of knowing to be true. there is no reason why, amongst all the great, i should chuse to supplicate the archbishop, nor why, among all the possible objects of his bounty, the archbishop should chuse your son. i know, madam, how unwillingly conviction is admitted, when interest opposes it; but surely, madam, you must allow, that there is no reason why that should be done by me, which every other man may do with equal reason, and which, indeed, no man can do properly, without some very particular relation both to the archbishop and to you. if i could help you in this exigence by any proper means, it would give me pleasure; but this proposal is so very remote from all usual methods, that i cannot comply with it, but at the risk of such answer and suspicions as i believe you do not wish me to undergo. 'i have seen your son this morning; he seems a pretty youth, and will, perhaps, find some better friend than i can procure him; but, though he should at last miss the university, he may still be wise, useful, and happy. i am, madam, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , .' 'to mr. joseph baretti, at milan. 'london, july , [ ]. 'sir, 'however justly you may accuse me for want of punctuality in correspondence, i am not so far lost in negligence as to omit the opportunity of writing to you, which mr. beauclerk's passage through milan affords me. 'i suppose you received the _idlers_, and i intend that you shall soon receive _shakspeare_, that you may explain his works to the ladies of italy, and tell them the story of the editor, among the other strange narratives with which your long residence in this unknown region has supplied you. 'as you have now been long away, i suppose your curiosity may pant for some news of your old friends. miss williams and i live much as we did. miss cotterel[ ] still continues to cling to mrs. porter, and charlotte[ ] is now big of the fourth child. mr. reynolds gets six thousands a year[ ]. levet is lately married, not without much suspicion that he has been wretchedly cheated in his match[ ]. mr. chambers is gone this day, for the first time, the circuit with the judges. mr. richardson is dead of an apoplexy[ ], and his second daughter has married a merchant. [page : johnson's visit to lichfield. a.d. .] [page : all happiness borrowed from hope. Ætat .] 'my vanity, or my kindness, makes me flatter myself, that you would rather hear of me than of those whom i have mentioned; but of myself i have very little which i care to tell. last winter i went down to my native town[ ], where i found the streets much narrower and shorter than i thought i had left them, inhabited by a new race of people, to whom i was very little known. my play-fellows were grown old, and forced me to suspect that i was no longer young. my only remaining friend has changed his principles, and was become the tool of the predominant faction. my daughter-in-law, from whom i expected most, and whom i met with sincere benevolence, has lost the beauty and gaiety of youth, without having gained much of the wisdom of age[ ]. i wandered about for five days, [ ] and took the first convenient opportunity of returning to a place, where, if there is not much happiness, there is, at least, such a diversity of good and evil, that slight vexations do not fix upon the heart[ ]. 'i think in a few weeks to try another excursion[ ]; though to what end? let me know, my baretti, what has been the result of your return to your own country: whether time has made any alteration for the better, and whether, when the first raptures of salutation were over, you did not find your thoughts confessed their disappointment. 'moral sentences appear ostentatious and tumid, when they have no greater occasions than the journey of a wit to his own town: yet such pleasures and such pains make up the general mass of life; and as nothing is little to him that feels it with great sensibility, a mind able to see common incidents in their real state, is disposed by very common incidents to very serious contemplations. let us trust that a time will come, when the present moment shall be no longer irksome; when we shall not borrow all our happiness from hope, which at last is to end in disappointment. 'i beg that you will shew mr. beauclerk all the civilities which you have in your power; for he has always been kind to me. 'i have lately seen mr. stratico, professor of padua, who has told me of your quarrel with an abbot of the celestine order; but had not the particulars very ready in his memory. when you write to mr. marsili[ ], let him know that i remember him with kindness. 'may you, my baretti, be very happy at milan[ ], or some other place nearer to, sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' [page : the accession of george iii. a.d. .] [page : johnson's pension. Ætat .] the accession of george the third to the throne of these kingdoms, opened a new and brighter prospect to men of literary merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal favour in the preceding reign. his present majesty's education in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, prompted him to be the patron of science and the arts; and early this year johnson, having been represented to him as a very learned and good man, without any certain provision, his majesty was pleased to grant him a pension of three hundred pounds a year[ ]. the earl of bute, who was then prime minister, had the honour to announce this instance of his sovereign's bounty, concerning which, many and various stories, all equally erroneous, have been propagated: maliciously representing it as a political bribe to johnson, to desert his avowed principles, and become the tool of a government which he held to be founded in usurpation. i have taken care to have it in my power to refute them from the most authentick information. lord bute told me, that mr. wedderburne, now lord loughborough, was the person who first mentioned this subject to him[ ]. lord loughborough told me, that the pension was granted to johnson solely as the reward of his literary merit, without any stipulation whatever, or even tacit understanding that he should write for administration. his lordship added, that he was confident the political tracts which johnson afterwards did write, as they were entirely consonant with his own opinions, would have been written by him though no pension had been granted to him[ ]. [page : johnson's interview with lord bute. a.d. .] mr. thomas sheridan and mr. murphy, who then lived a good deal both with him and mr. wedderburne, told me, that they previously talked with johnson upon this matter, and that it was perfectly understood by all parties that the pension was merely honorary. sir joshua reynolds told me, that johnson called on him after his majesty's intention had been notified to him, and said he wished to consult his friends as to the propriety of his accepting this mark of the royal favour, after the definitions which he had given in his _dictionary_ of _pension_ and _pensioners_[ ]. he said he would not have sir joshua's answer till next day, when he would call again, and desired he might think of it. sir joshua answered that he was clear to give his opinion then, that there could be no objection to his receiving from the king a reward for literary merit; and that certainly the definitions in his _dictionary_ were not applicable to him. johnson, it should seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he had accepted the pension, and had waited on lord bute to thank him. he then told sir joshua that lord bute said to him expressly, 'it is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done.' his lordship, he said, behaved in the handsomest manner. he repeated the words twice, that he might be sure johnson heard them, and thus set his mind perfectly at ease. this nobleman, who has been so virulently abused, acted with great honour in this instance, and displayed a mind truly liberal. a minister of a more narrow and selfish disposition would have availed himself of such an opportunity to fix an implied obligation on a man of johnson's powerful talents to give him his support. [page : murphy's account of the pension. Ætat .] mr. murphy and the late mr. sheridan severally contended for the distinction of having been the first who mentioned to mr. wedderburne that johnson ought to have a pension. when i spoke of this to lord loughborough, wishing to know if he recollected the prime mover in the business, he said, 'all his friends assisted:' and when i told him that mr. sheridan strenuously asserted his claim to it, his lordship said, 'he rang the bell.' and it is but just to add, that mr. sheridan told me, that when he communicated to dr. johnson that a pension was to be granted him, he replied in a fervour of gratitude, 'the english language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. i must have recourse to the french. i am _pénétré_ with his majesty's goodness.' when i repeated this to dr. johnson, he did not contradict it[ ]. his definitions of _pension_ and _pensioner_, partly founded on the satirical verses of pope[ ], which he quotes, may be generally true; and yet every body must allow, that there may be, and have been, instances of pensions given and received upon liberal and honourable terms. thus, then, it is clear, that there was nothing inconsistent or humiliating in johnson's accepting of a pension so unconditionally and so honourably offered to him. [page : johnson's letter to lord bute. a.d. .] but i shall not detain my readers longer by any words of my own, on a subject on which i am happily enabled, by the favour of the earl of bute, to present them with what johnson himself wrote; his lordship having been pleased to communicate to me a copy of the following letter to his late father[ ], which does great honour both to the writer, and to the noble person to whom it is addressed: 'to the right honourable the earl of bute. 'my lord, 'when the bills[ ] were yesterday delivered to me by mr. wedderburne, i was informed by him of the future favours which his majesty has, by your lordship's recommendation, been induced to intend for me. 'bounty always receives part of its value from the manner in which it is bestowed; your lordship's kindness includes every circumstance that can gratify delicacy, or enforce obligation. you have conferred your favours on a man who has neither alliance nor interest, who has not merited them by services, nor courted them by officiousness; you have spared him the shame of solicitation, and the anxiety of suspense. [page : a visit to devonshire. Ætat .] 'what has been thus elegantly given, will, i hope, not be reproachfully enjoyed; i shall endeavour to give your lordship the only recompense which generosity desires,--the gratification of finding that your benefits are not improperly bestowed. i am, my lord, 'your lordship's most obliged, 'most obedient, and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' this year his friend sir joshua reynolds paid a visit of some weeks to his native country, devonshire, in which he was accompanied by johnson, who was much pleased with this jaunt, and declared he had derived from it a great accession of new ideas[ ]. he was entertained at the seats of several noblemen and gentlemen in the west of england[ ]; but the greatest part of the time was passed at plymouth, where the magnificence of the navy, the ship-building and all its circumstances, afforded him a grand subject of contemplation. the commissioner of the dock-yard paid him the compliment of ordering the yacht to convey him and his friend to the eddystone, to which they accordingly sailed. but the weather was so tempestuous that they could not land[ ]. [page : johnson at plymouth. a.d. .] reynolds and he were at this time the guests of dr. mudge[ ], the celebrated surgeon, and now physician of that place, not more distinguished for quickness of parts and variety of knowledge, than loved and esteemed for his amiable manners; and here johnson formed an acquaintance with dr. mudge's father, that very eminent divine, the reverend zachariah mudge[ ], prebendary of exeter, who was idolised in the west, both for his excellence as a preacher and the uniform perfect propriety of his private conduct. he preached a sermon purposely that johnson might hear him; and we shall see afterwards that johnson honoured his memory by drawing his character[ ]. while johnson was at plymouth, he saw a great many of its inhabitants, and was not sparing of his very entertaining conversation. it was here that he made that frank and truly original confession, that 'ignorance, pure ignorance,' was the cause of a wrong definition in his _dictionary_ of the word _pastern_ [ ], to the no small surprise of the lady who put the question to him; who having the most profound reverence for his character, so as almost to suppose him endowed with infallibility, expected to hear an explanation (of what, to be sure, seemed strange to a common reader,) drawn from some deep-learned source with which she was unacquainted. [page : an enemy of the dockers. Ætat .] sir joshua reynolds, to whom i was obliged for my information concerning this excursion, mentions a very characteristical anecdote of johnson while at plymouth. having observed that in consequence of the dock-yard a new town[ ] had arisen about two miles off as a rival to the old; and knowing from his sagacity, and just observation of human nature, that it is certain if a man hates at all, he will hate his next neighbour; he concluded that this new and rising town could not but excite the envy and jealousy of the old, in which conjecture he was very soon confirmed; he therefore set himself resolutely on the side of the old town, the _established_ town, in which his lot was cast, considering it as a kind of duty to _stand by_ it. he accordingly entered warmly into its interests, and upon every occasion talked of the _dockers_, as the inhabitants of the new town were called, as upstarts and aliens. plymouth is very plentifully supplied with water by a river brought into it from a great distance, which is so abundant that it runs to waste in the town. the dock, or new-town, being totally destitute of water, petitioned plymouth that a small portion of the conduit might be permitted to go to them, and this was now under consideration. johnson, affecting to entertain the passions of the place, was violent in opposition; and, half-laughing at himself for his pretended zeal where he had no concern, exclaimed, 'no, no! i am against the _dockers_; i am a plymouth-man. rogues! let them die of thirst. they shall not have a drop[ ]!' [page : johnson's third letter to baretti. a.d. .] lord macartney obligingly favoured me with a copy of the following letter, in his own hand-writing, from the original, which was found, by the present earl of bute, among his father's papers. 'to the right honourable the earl of bute. 'my lord, 'that generosity, by which i was recommended to the favour of his majesty, will not be offended at a solicitation necessary to make that favour permanent and effectual. 'the pension appointed to be paid me at michaelmas i have not received, and know not where or from whom i am to ask it. i beg, therefore, that your lordship will be pleased to supply mr. wedderburne with such directions as may be necessary, which, i believe, his friendship will make him think it no trouble to convey to me. 'to interrupt your lordship, at a time like this, with such petty difficulties, is improper and unseasonable; but your knowledge of the world has long since taught you, that every man's affairs, however little, are important to himself. every man hopes that he shall escape neglect; and, with reason, may every man, whose vices do not preclude his claim, expect favour from that beneficence which has been extended to, 'my lord, 'your lordship's 'most obliged 'and 'most humble servant, 'temple lane 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , .' 'to mr. joseph baretti, at milan. 'london, dec. , . sir, [page : love and marriage. Ætat .] 'you are not to suppose, with all your conviction of my idleness, that i have passed all this time without writing to my baretti. i gave a letter to mr. beauclerk, who, in my opinion, and in his own, was hastening to naples for the recovery of his health[ ]; but he has stopped at paris, and i know not when he will proceed. langton is with him. 'i will not trouble you with speculations about peace and war. the good or ill success of battles and embassies extends itself to a very small part of domestick life: we all have good and evil, which we feel more sensibly than our petty part of publick miscarriage or prosperity[ ]. i am sorry for your disappointment, with which you seem more touched than i should expect a man of your resolution and experience to have been, did i not know that general truths are seldom applied to particular occasions; and that the fallacy of our self-love extends itself as wide as our interest or affections. every man believes that mistresses are unfaithful, and patrons capricious; but he excepts his own mistress, and his own patron. we have all learned that greatness is negligent and contemptuous, and that in courts life is often languished away in ungratified expectation; but he that approaches greatness, or glitters in a court, imagines that destiny has at last exempted him from the common lot. 'do not let such evils overwhelm you as thousands have suffered, and thousands have surmounted; but turn your thoughts with vigour to some other plan of life, and keep always in your mind, that, with due submission to providence, a man of genius has been seldom ruined but by himself[ ]. your patron's weakness or insensibility will finally do you little hurt, if he is not assisted by your own passions. of your love i know not the propriety, nor can estimate the power; but in love, as in every other passion, of which hope is the essence, we ought always to remember the uncertainty of events. there is, indeed, nothing that so much seduces reason from vigilance, as the thought of passing life with an amiable woman; and if all would happen that a lover fancies, i know not what other terrestrial happiness would deserve pursuit. but love and marriage are different states. those who are to suffer the evils together, and to suffer often for the sake of one another, soon lose that tenderness of look, and that benevolence of mind, which arose from the participation of unmingled pleasure and successive amusement. a woman, we are sure, will not be always fair; we are not sure she will always be virtuous: and man cannot retain through life that respect and assiduity by which he pleases for a day or for a month. i do not, however, pretend to have discovered that life has any thing more to be desired than a prudent and virtuous marriage; therefore know not what counsel to give you. [page : johnson's life of collins. a.d. .] 'if you can quit your imagination of love and greatness, and leave your hopes of preferment and bridal raptures to try once more the fortune of literature and industry, the way through france is now open[ ]. we flatter ourselves that we shall cultivate, with great diligence, the arts of peace; and every man will be welcome among us who can teach us any thing we do not know[ ]. for your part, you will find all your old friends willing to receive you. 'reynolds still continues to increase in reputation and in riches. miss williams, who very much loves you, goes on in the old way. miss cotterel is still with mrs. porter. miss charlotte is married to dean lewis, and has three children. mr. levet has married a street-walker[ ]. but the gazette of my narration must now arrive to tell you, that bathurst went physician to the army, and died at the havannah[ ]. 'i know not whether i have not sent you word that huggins[ ] and richardson[ ] are both dead. when we see our enemies and friends gliding away before us, let us not forget that we are subject to the general law of mortality, and shall soon be where our doom will be fixed for ever. 'i pray god to bless you, and am, sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'write soon.' [page : a dedication to the queen. Ætat .] : Ætat. .--in he furnished to _the poetical calendar_, published by fawkes and woty, a character of collins[*], which he afterwards ingrafted into his entire life of that admirable poet[ ], in the collection of lives which he wrote for the body of english poetry, formed and published by the booksellers of london. his account of the melancholy depression with which collins was severely afflicted, and which brought him to his grave, is, i think, one of the most tender and interesting passages in the whole series of his writings[ ]. he also favoured mr. hoole with the dedication of his translation of _tasso to the queen_,[*] which is so happily conceived and elegantly expressed, that i cannot but point it out to the peculiar notice of my readers[ ]. [page : boswell's youthful compositions. a.d. .] [page : johnson's quarrel with sheridan. Ætat .] this is to me a memorable year; for in it i had the happiness to obtain the acquaintance of that extraordinary man whose memoirs i am now writing; an acquaintance which i shall ever esteem as one of the most fortunate circumstances in my life. though then but two-and-twenty[ ], i had for several years read his works with delight and instruction, and had the highest reverence for their authour, which had grown up in my fancy into a kind of mysterious veneration[ ], by figuring to myself a state of solemn elevated abstraction, in which i supposed him to live in the immense metropolis of london. mr. gentleman, a native of ireland, who passed some years in scotland as a player, and as an instructor in the english language, a man whose talents and worth were depressed by misfortunes[ ], had given me a representation of the figure and manner of dictionary johnson, as he was then generally called[ ]; and during my first visit to london, which was for three months in , mr. derrick the poet[ ], who was gentleman's friend and countryman, flattered me with hopes that he would introduce me to johnson, an honour of which i was very ambitious. but he never found an opportunity; which made me doubt that he had promised to do what was not in his power; till johnson some years afterwards told me, 'derrick, sir, might very well have introduced you. i had a kindness for derrick, and am sorry he is dead.' in the summer of mr. thomas sheridan was at edinburgh, and delivered lectures upon the english language and publick speaking to large and respectable audiences. i was often in his company, and heard him frequently expatiate upon johnson's extraordinary knowledge, talents, and virtues, repeat his pointed sayings, describe his particularities, and boast of his being his guest sometimes till two or three in the morning. at his house i hoped to have many opportunities of seeing the sage, as mr. sheridan obligingly assured me i should not be disappointed. [page : sheridan's pension. a.d. .] when i returned to london in the end of , to my surprise and regret i found an irreconcileable difference had taken place between johnson and sheridan. a pension of two hundred pounds a year had been given to sheridan. johnson, who, as has been already mentioned, thought slightingly of sheridan's art, upon hearing that he was also pensioned, exclaimed, 'what! have they given _him_ a pension? then it is time for me to give up mine.' whether this proceeded from a momentary indignation, as if it were an affront to his exalted merit that a player should be rewarded in the same manner with him, or was the sudden effect of a fit of peevishness, it was unluckily said, and, indeed, cannot be justified. mr. sheridan's pension was granted to him not as a player, but as a sufferer in the cause of government, when he was manager of the theatre royal in ireland, when parties ran high in [ ]. and it must also be allowed that he was a man of literature, and had considerably improved the arts of reading and speaking with distinctness and propriety. besides, johnson should have recollected that mr. sheridan taught pronunciation to mr. alexander wedderburne[ ], whose sister was married to sir harry erskine[ ], an intimate friend of lord bute, who was the favourite of the king; and surely the most outrageous whig will not maintain, that, whatever ought to be the principle in the disposal of _offices_, a _pension_ ought never to be granted from any bias of court connection. mr. macklin[ ], indeed, shared with mr. sheridan the honour of instructing mr. wedderburne; and though it was too late in life for a caledonian to acquire the genuine english cadence, yet so successful were mr. wedderburne's instructors, and his own unabating endeavours, that he got rid of the coarse part of his scotch accent, retaining only as much of the 'native wood-note wild[ ],' as to mark his country; which, if any scotchman should affect to forget, i should heartily despise him. notwithstanding the difficulties which are to be encountered by those who have not had the advantage of an english education, he by degrees formed a mode of speaking to which englishmen do not deny the praise of elegance. hence his distinguished oratory, which he exerted in his own country as an advocate in the court of session, and a ruling elder of the _kirk_, has had its fame and ample reward, in much higher spheres. when i look back on this noble person at edinburgh, in situations so unworthy of his brilliant powers, and behold lord loughborough at london, the change seems almost like one of the metamorphoses in _ovid_; and as his two preceptors, by refining his utterance, gave currency to his talents, we may say in the words of that poet, '_nam vos mutastis_[ ],' [page : lord loughborough. Ætat .] i have dwelt the longer upon this remarkable instance of successful parts and assiduity; because it affords animating encouragement to other gentlemen of north-britain to try their fortunes in the southern part of the island, where they may hope to gratify their utmost ambition; and now that we are one people by the union, it would surely be illiberal to maintain, that they have not an equal title with the natives of any other part of his majesty's dominions. [page : sheridan's attack on johnson. a.d. .] [page : mrs. sheridan. Ætat .] johnson complained that a man who disliked him repeated his sarcasm to mr. sheridan, without telling him what followed, which was, that after a pause he added, 'however, i am glad that mr. sheridan has a pension, for he is a very good man.' sheridan could never forgive this hasty contemptuous expression. it rankled in his mind; and though i informed him of all that johnson said, and that he would be very glad to meet him amicably, he positively declined repeated offers which i made, and once went off abruptly from a house where he and i were engaged to dine, because he was told that dr. johnson was to be there[ ]. i have no sympathetick feeling with such persevering resentment. it is painful when there is a breach between those who have lived together socially and cordially; and i wonder that there is not, in all such cases, a mutual wish that it should be healed. i could perceive that mr. sheridan was by no means satisfied with johnson's acknowledging him to be a good man[ ]. that could not sooth his injured vanity. i could not but smile, at the same time that i was offended, to observe sheridan in _the life of swift_[ ], which he afterwards published, attempting, in the writhings of his resentment, to depreciate johnson, by characterising him as 'a writer of gigantick fame in these days of little men;' that very johnson whom he once so highly admired and venerated. [page : mr. thomas davies. a.d. .] this rupture with sheridan deprived johnson of one of his most agreeable resources for amusement in his lonely evenings; for sheridan's well-informed, animated, and bustling mind never, suffered conversation to stagnate; and mrs. sheridan[ ] was a most agreeable companion to an intellectual man. she was sensible, ingenious, unassuming, yet communicative. i recollect, with satisfaction, many pleasing hours which i passed with her under the hospitable roof of her husband, who was to me a very kind friend. her novel, entitled _memoirs of miss sydney biddulph_, contains an excellent moral while it inculcates a future state of retribution[ ]; and what it teaches is impressed upon the mind by a series of as deep distress as can affect humanity, in the amiable and pious heroine who goes to her grave unrelieved, but resigned, and full of hope of 'heaven's mercy.' johnson paid her this high compliment upon it: 'i know not, madam, that you have a right, upon moral principles, to make your readers suffer so much[ ].' mr. thomas davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in russel-street, covent-garden[ ], told me that johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us. [page : mr. davies's back-parlour. Ætat .] mr. thomas davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with the advantage of a liberal education[ ]. though somewhat pompous, he was an entertaining companion; and his literary performances[ ] have no inconsiderable share of merit. he was a friendly and very hospitable man. both he and his wife, (who has been celebrated for her beauty[ ],) though upon the stage for many years, maintained an uniform decency of character; and johnson esteemed them, and lived in as easy an intimacy with them, as with any family which he used to visit[ ]. mr. davies recollected several of johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while relating them. he increased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works i highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly excellent. [page : boswell's introduction to johnson. a.d. .] [page : his first record of johnson's talk. Ætat .] at last, on monday the th of may, when i was sitting in mr. davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with him and mrs. davies, johnson unexpectedly came into the shop[ ]; and mr. davies having perceived him through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us,--he announced his aweful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of horatio, when he addresses hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, 'look, my lord, it comes.' i found that i had a very perfect idea of johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by sir joshua reynolds soon after he had published his _dictionary_, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation, which was the first picture his friend did for him, which sir joshua very kindly presented to me, and from which an engraving has been made for this work. mr. davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. i was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the scotch, of which i had heard much, i said to davies, 'don't tell where i come from.'--'from scotland,' cried davies roguishly. 'mr. johnson, (said i) i do indeed come from scotland, but i cannot help it[ ].' i am willing to flatter myself that i meant this as light pleasantry to sooth and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expence of my country. but however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression 'come from scotland,' which i used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if i had said that i had come away from it, or left it, retorted, 'that, sir, i find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' this stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, i felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. he then addressed himself to davies: 'what do you think of garrick? he has refused me an order for the play for miss williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings.' eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, i ventured to say, 'o, sir, i cannot think mr. garrick would grudge such a trifle to you.' 'sir, (said he, with a stern look,) i have known david garrick longer than you have done: and i know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.' perhaps i deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil[ ]. i now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which i had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. and, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. fortunately, however, i remained upon the field not wholly discomfited; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his conversation, of which i preserved the following short minute, without marking the questions and observations by which it was produced. 'people (he remarked) may be taken in once, who imagine that an authour is greater in private life than other men. uncommon parts require uncommon opportunities for their exertion. 'in barbarous society, superiority of parts is of real consequence. great strength or great wisdom is of much value to an individual. but in more polished times there are people to do every thing for money; and then there are a number of other superiorities, such as those of birth and fortune, and rank, that dissipate men's attention, and leave no extraordinary share of respect for personal and intellectual superiority. this is wisely ordered by providence, to preserve some equality among mankind.' [page : sheridan's lectures on oratory. a.d. .] 'sir, this book (_the elements of criticism_'[ ], which he had taken up,) is a pretty essay, and deserves to be held in some estimation, though much of it is chimerical.' speaking of one who with more than ordinary boldness attacked publick measures and the royal family, he said, 'i think he is safe from the law, but he is an abusive scoundrel; and instead of applying to my lord chief justice to punish him, i would send half a dozen footmen and have him well ducked[ ].' 'the notion of liberty amuses the people of england, and helps to keep off the _tædium vitæ_. when a butcher tells you that _his heart bleeds for his country_, he has, in fact, no uneasy feeling.' 'sheridan will not succeed at bath with his oratory. ridicule has gone down before him, and, i doubt, derrick is his enemy[ ].' 'derrick may do very well, as long as he can outrun his character; but the moment his character gets up with him, it is all over.' [page : boswell's first call on johnson. Ætat .] it is, however, but just to record, that some years afterwards, when i reminded him of this sarcasm, he said, 'well, but derrick has now got a character that he need not run away from.' i was highly pleased with the extraordinary vigour of his conversation, and regretted that i was drawn away from it by an engagement at another place. i had, for a part of the evening, been left alone with him, and had ventured to make an observation now and then, which he received very civilly; so that i was satisfied that though there was a roughness in his manner, there was no ill-nature in his disposition. davies followed me to the door, and when i complained to him a little of the hard blows which the great man had given me, he kindly took upon him to console me by saying, 'don't be uneasy. i can see he likes you very well.' [page : the giant in his den. a.d. .] a few days afterwards i called on davies, and asked him if he thought i might take the liberty of waiting on mr. johnson at his chambers in the temple. he said i certainly might, and that mr. johnson would take it as a compliment. so upon tuesday the th of may, after having been enlivened by the witty sallies of messieurs thornton[ ], wilkes, churchill and lloyd[ ], with whom i had passed the morning, i boldly repaired to johnson. his chambers were on the first floor of no. , inner-temple-lane, and i entered them with an impression given me by the reverend dr. blair[ ], of edinburgh, who had been introduced to him not long before, and described his having 'found the giant in his den;' an expression, which, when i came to be pretty well acquainted with johnson, i repeated to him, and he was diverted at this picturesque account of himself. dr. blair had been presented to him by dr. james fordyce[ ]. at this time the controversy concerning the pieces published by mr. james macpherson, as translations of ossian[ ], was at its height. johnson had all along denied their authenticity; and, what was still more provoking to their admirers, maintained that they had no merit. the subject having been introduced by dr. fordyce, dr. blair, relying on the internal evidence of their antiquity, asked dr. johnson whether he thought any man of a modern age could have written such poems? johnson replied, 'yes, sir, many men, many women, and many children[ ].' johnson, at this time, did not know that dr. blair had just published a _dissertation_, not only defending their authenticity, but seriously ranking them with the poems of _homer_ and _virgil_; and when he was afterwards informed of this circumstance, he expressed some displeasure at dr. fordyce's having suggested the topick, and said, 'i am not sorry that they got thus much for their pains. sir, it was like leading one to talk of a book when the authour is concealed behind the door[ ].' [page : christopher smart's madness. Ætat .] he received me very courteously; but, it must be confessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth. his brown suit of cloaths looked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. but all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk. some gentlemen, whom i do not recollect, were sitting with him; and when they went away, i also rose; but he said to me, 'nay, don't go.' 'sir, (said i,) i am afraid that i intrude upon you. it is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.' he seemed pleased with this compliment, which i sincerely paid him, and answered, 'sir, i am obliged to any man who visits me.' i have preserved the following short minute of what passed this day:-- 'madness frequently discovers itself merely by unnecessary deviation from the usual modes of the world. my poor friend smart shewed the disturbance of his mind, by falling upon his knees, and saying his prayers in the street, or in any other unusual place. now although, rationally speaking, it is greater madness not to pray at all, than to pray as smart did, i am afraid there are so many who do not pray, that their understanding is not called in question.' concerning this unfortunate poet, christopher smart, who was confined in a mad-house, he had, at another time, the following conversation with dr. burney:--burney. 'how does poor smart do, sir; is he likely to recover?' johnson. 'it seems as if his mind had ceased to struggle with the disease; for he grows fat upon it.' burney. 'perhaps, sir, that may be from want of exercise.' johnson. 'no, sir; he has partly as much exercise as he used to have, for he digs in the garden. indeed, before his confinement, he used for exercise to walk to the ale-house; but he was _carried_ back again. i did not think he ought to be shut up. his infirmities were not noxious to society. he insisted on people praying with him[ ]; and i'd as lief pray with kit smart as any one else. another charge was, that he did not love clean linen; and i have no passion for it.'--johnson continued. 'mankind have a great aversion to intellectual labour[ ]; but even supposing knowledge to be easily attainable, more people would be content to be ignorant than would take even a little trouble to acquire it.' [page : johnson's mode of life. a.d. .] 'the morality of an action depends on the motive from which we act. if i fling half a crown to a beggar with intention to break his head, and he picks it up and buys victuals with it, the physical effect is good; but, with respect to me, the action is very wrong. so, religious exercises, if not performed with an intention to please god, avail us nothing. as our saviour says of those who perform them from other motives, "verily they have their reward[ ]." 'the christian religion has very strong evidences[ ]. it, indeed, appears in some degree strange to reason; but in history we have undoubted facts, against which, reasoning _à priori_, we have more arguments than we have for them; but then, testimony has great weight, and casts the balance. i would recommend to every man whose faith is yet unsettled, grotius,--dr. pearson,--and dr. clarke[ ].' talking of garrick, he said, 'he is the first man in the world for sprightly conversation.' when i rose a second time he again pressed me to stay, which i did. he told me, that he generally went abroad at four in the afternoon, and seldom came home till two in the morning[ ]. i took the liberty to ask if he did not think it wrong to live thus, and not make more use of his great talents[ ]. he owned it was a bad habit. on reviewing, at the distance of many years, my journal of this period, i wonder how, at my first visit, i ventured to talk to him so freely, and that he bore it with so much indulgence. [page : johnson the horse-rider. Ætat .] before we parted, he was so good as to promise to favour me with his company one evening at my lodgings; and, as i took my leave, shook me cordially by the hand. it is almost needless to add, that i felt no little elation at having now so happily established an acquaintance of which i had been so long ambitious. my readers will, i trust, excuse me for being thus minutely circumstantial, when it is considered that the acquaintance of dr. johnson was to me a most valuable acquisition, and laid the foundation of whatever instruction and entertainment they may receive from my collections concerning the great subject of the work which they are now perusing. i did not visit him again till monday, june , at which time i recollect no part of his conversation, except that when i told him i had been to see johnson ride upon three horses[ ], he said, 'such a man, sir, should be encouraged; for his performances shew the extent of the human powers in one instance, and thus tend to raise our opinion of the faculties of man. he shews what may be attained by persevering application; so that every man may hope, that by giving as much application, although perhaps he may never ride three horses at a time, or dance upon a wire, yet he may be equally expert in whatever profession he has chosen to pursue.' he again shook me by the hand at parting, and asked me why i did not come oftener to him. trusting that i was now in his good graces, i answered, that he had not given me much encouragement, and reminded him of the check i had received from him at our first interview. 'poh, poh! (said he, with a complacent smile,) never mind these things. come to me as often as you can. i shall be glad to see you.' i had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the mitre tavern in fleet-street, where he loved to sit up late, and i begged i might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he promised i should. a few days afterwards i met him near temple-bar, about one o'clock in the morning, and asked if he would then go to the mitre. 'sir, (said he) it is too late; they won't let us in. but i'll go with you another night with all my heart.' [page : a revolution in boswell's life. a.d. .] [page : the mitre. Ætat .] a revolution of some importance in my plan of life had just taken place; for instead of procuring a commission in the footguards, which was my own inclination[ ], i had, in compliance with my father's wishes, agreed to study the law; and was soon to set out for utrecht, to hear the lectures of an excellent civilian in that university, and then to proceed on my travels. though very desirous of obtaining dr. johnson's advice and instructions on the mode of pursuing my studies, i was at this time so occupied, shall i call it? or so dissipated, by the amusements of london, that our next meeting was not till saturday, june , when happening to dine at clifton's eating-house, in butcher-row[ ], i was surprized to perceive johnson come in and take his seat at another table. the mode of dining, or rather being fed, at such houses in london, is well known to many to be particularly unsocial, as there is no ordinary, or united company, but each person has his own mess, and is under no obligation to hold any intercourse with any one. a liberal and full-minded man, however, who loves to talk, will break through this churlish and unsocial restraint. johnson and an irish gentleman got into a dispute concerning the cause of some part of mankind being black. 'why, sir, said (johnson,) it has been accounted for in three ways: either by supposing that they are the posterity of ham, who was cursed; or that god at first created two kinds of men, one black and another white; or that by the heat of the sun the skin is scorched, and so acquires a sooty hue. this matter has been much canvassed among naturalists, but has never been brought to any certain issue.' what the irishman said is totally obliterated from my mind; but i remember that he became very warm and intemperate in his expressions; upon which johnson rose, and quietly walked away. when he had retired, his antagonist took his revenge, as he thought, by saying, 'he has a most ungainly figure, and an affectation of pomposity, unworthy of a man of genius.' johnson had not observed that i was in the room. i followed him, however, and he agreed to meet me in the evening at the mitre. i called on him, and we went thither at nine. we had a good supper, and port wine, of which he then sometimes drank a bottle. the orthodox high-church sound of the mitre,--the figure and manner of the celebrated samuel johnson,--the extraordinary power and precision of his conversation, and the pride arising from finding myself admitted as his companion, produced a variety of sensations, and a pleasing elevation of mind beyond what i had ever before experienced. i find in my journal the following minute of our conversation, which, though it will give but a very faint notion of what passed, is in some degree a valuable record; and it will be curious in this view, as shewing how habitual to his mind were some opinions which appear in his works. [page : cibber and whitehead. a.d. .] 'colley cibber[ ], sir, was by no means a blockhead; but by arrogating to himself too much, he was in danger of losing that degree of estimation to which he was entitled. his friends gave out that he _intended_ his birth-day _odes_ should be bad: but that was not the case, sir; for he kept them many months by him, and a few years before he died he shewed me one of them, with great solicitude to render it as perfect as might be, and i made some corrections, to which he was not very willing to submit. i remember the following couplet in allusion to the king and himself: "perch'd on the eagle's soaring wing, the lowly linnet loves to sing." sir, he had heard something of the fabulous tale of the wren sitting upon the eagle's wing, and he had applied it to a linnet. gibber's familiar style, however, was better than that which whitehead has assumed. _grand_ nonsense is insupportable[ ]. whitehead is but a little man to inscribe verses to players.' i did not presume to controvert this censure, which was tinctured with his prejudice against players[ ]; but i could not help thinking that a dramatick poet might with propriety pay a compliment to an eminent performer, as whitehead has very happily done in his verses to mr. garrick[ ]. [page : the abruptness of gray's ode. Ætat .] 'sir, i do not think gray a first-rate poet. he has not a bold imagination, nor much command of words. the obscurity in which he has involved himself will not persuade us that he is sublime[ ]. his _elegy in a church-yard_ has a happy selection of images, but i don't like what are called his great things. his _ode_ which begins "ruin seize thee, ruthless king, confusion on thy banners wait!" has been celebrated for its abruptness, and plunging into the subject all at once[ ]. but such arts as these have no merit, unless when they are original. we admire them only once; and this abruptness has nothing new in it. we have had it often before. nay, we have it in the old song of johnny armstrong[ ]: "is there ever a man in all scotland from the highest estate to the lowest degree, &c." and then, sir, "yes, there is a man in westmoreland, and johnny armstrong they do him call." there, now, you plunge at once into the subject. you have no previous narration to lead you to it. the two next lines in that _ode_ are, i think, very good: "though fann'd by conquest's crimson wing, they mock the air with idle state[ ]."' [page : boswell opens his mind. a.d. .] here let it be observed, that although his opinion of gray's poetry was widely different from mine, and i believe from that of most men of taste[ ], by whom it is with justice highly admired, there is certainly much absurdity in the clamour which has been raised, as if he had been culpably injurious to the merit of that bard, and had been actuated by envy. alas! ye little short-sighted criticks, could johnson be envious of the talents of any of his contemporaries? that his opinion on this subject was what in private and in publick he uniformly expressed, regardless of what others might think, we may wonder, and perhaps regret; but it is shallow and unjust to charge him with expressing what he did not think. finding him in a placid humour, and wishing to avail myself of the opportunity which i fortunately had of consulting a sage, to hear whose wisdom, i conceived in the ardour of youthful imagination, that men filled with a noble enthusiasm for intellectual improvement would gladly have resorted from distant lands;--i opened my mind to him ingenuously, and gave him a little sketch of my life, to which he was pleased to listen with great attention[ ]. [page : the differences of christians. Ætat .] i acknowledged, that though educated very strictly in the principles of religion, i had for some time been misled into a certain degree of infidelity; but that i was come now to a better way of thinking, and was fully satisfied of the truth of the christian revelation, though i was not clear as to every point considered to be orthodox. being at all times a curious examiner of the human mind, and pleased with an undisguised display of what had passed in it, he called to me with warmth, 'give me your hand; i have taken a liking to you.' he then began to descant upon the force of testimony, and the little we could know of final causes; so that the objections of, why was it so? or why was it not so? ought not to disturb us: adding, that he himself had at one period been guilty of a temporary neglect of religion, but that it was not the result of argument, but mere absence of thought[ ]. after having given credit to reports of his bigotry, i was agreeably surprized when he expressed the following very liberal sentiment, which has the additional value of obviating an objection to our holy religion, founded upon the discordant tenets of christians themselves: 'for my part, sir, i think all christians, whether papists or protestants, agree in the essential articles, and that their differences are trivial, and rather political than religious[ ].' we talked of belief in ghosts. he said, 'sir, i make a distinction between what a man may experience by the mere strength of his imagination, and what imagination cannot possibly produce. thus, suppose i should think that i saw a form, and heard a voice cry "johnson, you are a very wicked fellow, and unless you repent you will certainly be punished;" my own unworthiness is so deeply impressed upon my mind, that i might _imagine_ i thus saw and heard, and therefore i should not believe that an external communication had been made to me. but if a form should appear, and a voice should tell me that a particular man had died at a particular place, and a particular hour, a fact which i had no apprehension of, nor any means of knowing, and this fact, with all its circumstances, should afterwards be unquestionably proved, i should, in that case, be persuaded that i had supernatural intelligence imparted to me.' [page : the cock-lane ghost. a.d. .] here it is proper, once for all, to give a true and fair statement of johnson's way of thinking upon the question, whether departed spirits are ever permitted to appear in this world, or in any way to operate upon human life. he has been ignorantly misrepresented as weakly credulous upon that subject; and, therefore, though i feel an inclination to disdain and treat with silent contempt so foolish a notion concerning my illustrious friend, yet as i find it has gained ground, it is necessary to refute it. the real fact then is, that johnson had a very philosophical mind, and such a rational respect for testimony, as to make him submit his understanding to what was authentically proved, though he could not comprehend why it was so. being thus disposed, he was willing to inquire into the truth of any relation of supernatural agency, a general belief of which has prevailed in all nations and ages[ ]. but so far was he from being the dupe of implicit faith, that he examined the matter with a jealous attention, and no man was more ready to refute its falsehood when he had discovered it. churchill, in his poem entitled _the ghost_, availed himself of the absurd credulity imputed to johnson, and drew a caricature of him under the name of 'pomposo[ ],' representing him as one of the believers of the story of a ghost in cock-lane, which, in the year , had gained very general credit in london[ ]. many of my readers, i am convinced, are to this hour under an impression that johnson was thus foolishly deceived. it will therefore surprise them a good deal when they are informed upon undoubted authority, that johnson was one of those by whom the imposture was detected. the story had become so popular, that he thought it should be investigated[ ]; and in this research he was assisted by the reverend dr. douglas[ ], now bishop of salisbury, the great detector of impostures; who informs me, that after the gentlemen who went and examined into the evidence were satisfied of its falsity, johnson wrote in their presence an account of it, which was published in the newspapers and _gentleman's magazine_, and undeceived the world[ ]. [page : subordination. a.d. .] our conversation proceeded. 'sir, (said he) i am a friend to subordination, as most conducive to the happiness of society[ ]. there is a reciprocal pleasure in governing and being governed.' 'dr. goldsmith is one of the first men we now have as an authour, and he is a very worthy man too. he has been loose in his principles, but he is coming right.' [page : scotch landlords. Ætat .] i mentioned mallet's tragedy of _elvira_[ ], which had been acted the preceding winter at drury-lane, and that the honourable andrew erskine[ ], mr. dempster[ ], and myself, had joined in writing a pamphlet, entitled, _critical strictures_, against it[ ]. that the mildness of dempster's disposition had, however, relented; and he had candidly said, 'we have hardly a right to abuse this tragedy: for bad as it is, how vain should either of us be to write one not near so good.' johnson. 'why no, sir; this is not just reasoning. you may abuse a tragedy, though you cannot write one. you may scold a carpenter who has made you a bad table, though you cannot make a table. it is not your trade to make tables.' when i talked to him of the paternal estate to which i was heir, he said, 'sir, let me tell you, that to be a scotch landlord, where you have a number of families dependent upon you, and attached to you, is, perhaps, as high a situation as humanity can arrive at. a merchant upon the 'change of london, with a hundred thousand pounds, is nothing; an english duke, with an immense fortune, is nothing; he has no tenants who consider themselves as under his patriarchal care, and who will follow him to the field upon an emergency.' his notion of the dignity of a scotch landlord had been formed upon what he had heard of the highland chiefs; for it is long since a lowland landlord has been so curtailed in his feudal authority, that he has little more influence over his tenants than an english landlord; and of late years most of the highland chiefs have destroyed, by means too well known, the princely power which they once enjoyed[ ]. [page : johnson's kindness of heart. a.d. .] he proceeded: 'your going abroad, sir, and breaking off idle habits, may be of great importance to you. i would go where there are courts and learned men. there is a good deal of spain that has not been perambulated. i would have you go thither[ ]. a man of inferiour talents to yours may furnish us with useful observations upon that country.' his supposing me, at that period of life, capable of writing an account of my travels that would deserve to be read, elated me not a little. i appeal to every impartial reader whether this faithful detail of his frankness, complacency, and kindness to a young man, a stranger and a scotchman, does not refute the unjust opinion of the harshness of his general demeanour. his occasional reproofs of folly, impudence, or impiety, and even the sudden sallies of his constitutional irritability of temper, which have been preserved for the poignancy of their wit, have produced that opinion among those who have not considered that such instances, though collected by mrs. piozzi into a small volume, and read over in a few hours, were, in fact, scattered through a long series of years; years, in which his time was chiefly spent in instructing and delighting mankind by his writings and conversation, in acts of piety to god, and good-will to men[ ]. i complained to him that i had not yet acquired much knowledge, and asked his advice as to my studies[ ]. he said, 'don't talk of study now. i will give you a plan; but it will require some time to consider of it.' 'it is very good in you (i replied,) to allow me to be with you thus. had it been foretold to me some years ago that i should pass an evening with the authour of _the rambler_, how should i have exulted!' what i then expressed, was sincerely from the heart. he was satisfied that it was, and cordially answered, 'sir, i am glad we have met. i hope we shall pass many evenings and mornings too, together.' we finished a couple of bottles of port, and sat till between one and two in the morning. [page : oliver goldsmith. Ætat .] he wrote this year in the _critical review_ the account of 'telemachus, a mask,' by the reverend george graham, of eton college[ ]. the subject of this beautiful poem was particularly interesting to johnson, who had much experience of 'the conflict of opposite principles,' which he describes as 'the contention between pleasure and virtue, a struggle which will always be continued while the present system of nature shall subsist: nor can history or poetry exhibit more than pleasure triumphing over virtue, and virtue subjugating pleasure.' [page : oliver goldsmith. a.d. .] as dr. oliver goldsmith will frequently appear in this narrative, i shall endeavour to make my readers in some degree acquainted with his singular character. he was a native of ireland, and a contemporary with mr. burke at trinity college, dublin, but did not then give much promise of future celebrity[ ]. he, however, observed to mr. malone, that 'though he made no great figure in mathematicks[ ], which was a study in much repute there, he could turn an ode of horace into english better than any of them.' he afterwards studied physick at edinburgh, and upon the continent; and i have been informed, was enabled to pursue his travels on foot[ ], partly by demanding at universities to enter the lists as a disputant, by which, according to the custom of many of them, he was entitled to the premium of a crown, when luckily for him his challenge was not accepted; so that, as i once observed to dr. johnson, he _disputed_ his passage through europe[ ]. he then came to england, and was employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a news-paper. he had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model. to me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of johnson[ ], though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. at this time i think he had published nothing with his name[ ], though it was pretty generally known that _one dr. goldsmith_ was the authour of _an enquiry into the present state of polite learning in europe_[ ], and of _the citizen of the world_[ ], a series of letters supposed to be written from london by a chinese. no man had the art of displaying with more advantage as a writer, whatever literary acquisitions he made. '_nihil quod tetigit non ornavit_'[ ]. his mind resembled a fertile, but thin soil. there was a quick, but not a strong vegetation, of whatever chanced to be thrown upon it. no deep root could be struck. the oak of the forest did not grow there; but the elegant shrubbery and the fragrant parterre appeared in gay succession. it has been generally circulated and believed that he was a mere fool in conversation[ ]; but, in truth, this has been greatly exaggerated. he had, no doubt, a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen, and which sometimes produces a laughable confusion in expressing them. he was very much what the french call _un etourdi_[ ], and from vanity and an eager desire of being conspicuous wherever he was, he frequently talked carelessly without knowledge of the subject, or even without thought. his person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman[ ]. those who were in any way distinguished, excited envy in him to so ridiculous an excess, that the instances of it are hardly credible[ ]. when accompanying two beautiful young ladies[ ] with their mother on a tour in france, he was seriously angry that more attention was paid to them than to him[ ]; and once at the exhibition of the _fantoccini_[ ] in london, when those who sat next him observed with what dexterity a puppet was made to toss a pike, he could not bear that it should have such praise, and exclaimed with some warmth, 'pshaw! i can do it better myself[ ].' [page : the vicar of wakefield. Ætat .] he, i am afraid, had no settled system of any sort[ ], so that his conduct must not be strictly scrutinised; but his affections were social and generous, and when he had money he gave it away very liberally. his desire of imaginary consequence predominated over his attention to truth. when he began to rise into notice, he said he had a brother who was dean of durham[ ], a fiction so easily detected, that it is wonderful how he should have been so inconsiderate as to hazard it. he boasted to me at this time of the power of his pen in commanding money, which i believe was true in a certain degree, though in the instance he gave he was by no means correct. he told me that he had sold a novel for four hundred pounds. this was his _vicar of wakefield_. but johnson informed me, that he had made the bargain for goldsmith, and the price was sixty pounds[ ]. 'and, sir, (said he,) a sufficient price too, when it was sold; for then the fame of goldsmith had not been elevated, as it afterwards was, by his _traveller_; and the bookseller had such faint hopes of profit by his bargain, that he kept the manuscript by him a long time, and did not publish it till after _the traveller_ had appeared[ ]. then, to be sure, it was accidentally worth more money[ ].' mrs. piozzi[ ] and sir john hawkins[ ] have strangely mis-stated the history of goldsmith's situation and johnson's friendly interference, when this novel was sold. i shall give it authentically from johnson's own exact narration:--'i received one morning a message from poor goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that i would come to him as soon as possible. i sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. i accordingly went as soon as i was drest, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. i perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of madeira and a glass before him[ ]. i put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. he then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. i looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady i should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. i brought goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill[ ].' [page : dr. john campbell. Ætat .] my next meeting with johnson was on friday the st of july, when he and i and dr. goldsmith supped together at the mitre. i was before this time pretty well acquainted with goldsmith, who was one of the brightest ornaments of the johnsonian school[ ]. goldsmith's respectful attachment to johnson was then at its height; for his own literary reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire of competition with his great master. he had increased my admiration of the goodness of johnson's heart, by incidental remarks in the course of conversation, such as, when i mentioned mr. levet, whom he entertained under his roof, 'he is poor and honest, which is recommendation enough to johnson;' and when i wondered that he was very kind to a man of whom i had heard a very bad character, 'he is now become miserable, and that insures the protection of johnson.' goldsmith attempted this evening to maintain, i suppose from an affectation of paradox, 'that knowledge was not desirable on its own account, for it often was a source of unhappiness.' johnson. 'why, sir, that knowledge may in some cases produce unhappiness, i allow. but, upon the whole, knowledge, _per se_, is certainly an object which every man would wish to attain, although, perhaps, he may not take the trouble necessary for attaining it[ ].' [page : churchill's attack on johnson. a.d. .] dr. john campbell[ ], the celebrated political and biographical writer, being mentioned, johnson said, 'campbell is a man of much knowledge, and has a good share of imagination. his _herinipptis redivivus_[ ] is very entertaining, as an account of the hermetick philosophy, and as furnishing a curious history of the extravagancies of the human mind. if it were merely imaginary it would be nothing at all. campbell is not always rigidly careful of truth in his conversation; but i do not believe there is any thing of this carelessness in his books[ ]. campbell is a good man, a pious man. i am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years[ ]; but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat[ ]. this shews that he has good principles[ ]. i used to go pretty often to campbell's on a sunday evening[ ] till i began to consider that the shoals of scotchmen who flocked about him might probably say, when any thing of mine was well done, 'ay, ay, he has learnt this of cawmell!' [page : churchill's poetry. Ætat .] he talked very contemptuously of churchill's poetry, observing that 'it had a temporary currency, only from its audacity of abuse, and being filled with living names, and that it would sink into oblivion.' i ventured to hint that he was not quite a fair judge, as churchill had attacked him violently. johnson. 'nay, sir, i am a very fair judge. he did not attack me violently till he found i did not like his poetry[ ]; and his attack on me shall not prevent me from continuing to say what i think of him, from an apprehension that it may be ascribed to resentment. no, sir, i called the fellow a blockhead[ ] at first, and i will call him a blockhead still. however, i will acknowledge that i have a better opinion of him now, than i once had; for he has shewn more fertility than i expected[ ]. to be sure, he is a tree that cannot produce good fruit: he only bears crabs. but, sir, a tree that produces a great many crabs is better than a tree which produces only a few.' [page : bonnell thornton's ode. a.d. .] in this depreciation of churchill's poetry i could not agree with him[ ]. it is very true that the greatest part of it is upon the topicks of the day, on which account, as it brought him great fame and profit at the time[ ], it must proportionally slide out of the publick attention as other occasional objects succeed. but churchill had extraordinary vigour both of thought and expression. his portraits of the players will ever be valuable to the true lovers of the drama; and his strong caricatures of several eminent men of his age, will not be forgotten by the curious. let me add, that there are in his works many passages which are of a general nature[ ]; and his _prophecy of famine_ is a poem of no ordinary merit. it is, indeed, falsely injurious to scotland, but therefore may be allowed a greater share of invention. bonnell thornton had just published a burlesque _ode on st. cecilia's day, adapted to the ancient british musick, viz. the salt-box, the jew's-harp, the marrow-bones and cleaver, the humstrum or hurdy-gurdy, &c_. johnson praised its humour, and seemed much diverted with it. he repeated the following passage:-- 'in strains more exalted the salt-box shall join, and clattering and battering and clapping combine; with a rap and a tap while the hollow side sounds, up and down leaps the flap, and with rattling rebounds[ ]. i mentioned the periodical paper called _the connoisseur[ ]_. he said it wanted matter.--no doubt it has not the deep thinking of johnson's writings. but surely it has just views of the surface of life, and a very sprightly manner. his opinion of _the world_ was not much higher than of the _connoisseur_. [page : tea with miss williams. Ætat .] let me here apologize for the imperfect manner in which i am obliged to exhibit johnson's conversation at this period. in the early part of my acquaintance with him, i was so wrapt in admiration of his extraordinary colloquial talents, and so little accustomed to his peculiar mode of expression, that i found it extremely difficult to recollect and record his conversation with its genuine vigour and vivacity. in progress of time, when my mind was, as it were, _strongly impregnated--with the johnsonian æther_, i could, with much more facility and exactness, carry in my memory and commit to paper the exuberant variety of his wisdom and wit. at this time _miss_ williams, as she was then called, though she did not reside with him in the temple under his roof, but had lodgings in bolt-court, fleet-street[ ], had so much of his attention, that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, however late it might be, and she always sat up for him. this, it may be fairly conjectured, was not alone a proof of his regard for _her_, but of his own unwillingness to go into solitude, before that unseasonable hour at which he had habituated himself to expect the oblivion of repose. dr. goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority, like that of an esoterick over an exoterick disciple of a sage of antiquity, 'i go to miss williams.' i confess, i then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud; but it was not long before i obtained the same mark of distinction[ ]. on tuesday the th of july, i again visited johnson. he told me he had looked into the poems of a pretty voluminous writer, mr. (now dr.) john ogilvie, one of the presbyterian ministers of scotland, which had lately come out, but could find no thinking in them. boswell. 'is there not imagination in them, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, there is in them what _was_ imagination, but it is no more imagination in _him_, than sound is sound in the echo. and his diction too is not his own. we have long ago seen _white-robed innocence_, and _flower-bespangled meads_.' [page : the immensity of london. a.d. .] talking of london, he observed, 'sir, if you wish to have a just notion of the magnitude of this city, you must not be satisfied with seeing its great streets and squares, but must survey the innumerable little lanes and courts. it is not in the showy evolutions of buildings, but in the multiplicity of human habitations which are crouded together, that the wonderful immensity of london consists.'--i have often amused myself with thinking how different a place london is to different people. they, whose narrow minds are contracted to the consideration of some one particular pursuit, view it only through that medium. a politician thinks of it merely as the seat of government in its different departments; a grazier, as a vast market for cattle; a mercantile man, as a place where a prodigious deal of business is done upon 'change; a dramatick enthusiast, as the grand scene of theatrical entertainments; a man of pleasure, as an assemblage of taverns, and the great emporium for ladies of easy virtue. but the intellectual man is struck with it, as comprehending the whole of human life in all its variety, the contemplation of which is inexhaustible[ ]. [page : goldsmith's eagerness to shine. Ætat .] on wednesday, july , he was engaged to sup with me at my lodgings in downing-street, westminster. but on the preceding night my landlord having behaved very rudely to me and some company who were with me, i had resolved not to remain another night in his house. i was exceedingly uneasy at the aukward appearance i supposed i should make to johnson and the other gentlemen whom i had invited, not being able to receive them at home, and being obliged to order supper at the mitre. i went to johnson in the morning, and talked of it as a serious distress. he laughed, and said, 'consider, sir, how insignificant this will appear a twelvemonth hence.'--were this consideration to be applied to most of the little vexatious incidents of life, by which our quiet is too often disturbed, it would prevent many painful sensations. i have tried it frequently, with good effect. 'there is nothing (continued he) in this mighty misfortune; nay, we shall be better at the mitre.' i told him that i had been at sir john fielding's office, complaining of my landlord, and had been informed, that though i had taken my lodgings for a year, i might, upon proof of his bad behaviour, quit them when i pleased, without being under an obligation to pay rent for any longer time than while i possessed them. the fertility of johnson's mind could shew itself even upon so small a matter as this. 'why, sir, (said he,) i suppose this must be the law, since you have been told so in bow-street. but, if your landlord could hold you to your bargain, and the lodgings should be yours for a year, you may certainly use them as you think fit. so, sir, you may quarter two life-guardsmen upon him; or you may send the greatest scoundrel you can find into your apartments; or you may say that you want to make some experiments in natural philosophy, and may burn a large quantity of assafoetida in his house.' i had as my guests this evening at the mitre tavern, dr. johnson, dr. goldsmith, mr. thomas davies, mr. eccles, an irish gentleman, for whose agreeable company i was obliged to mr. davies, and the reverend mr. john ogilvie[ ], who was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, while i, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of shewing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms johnson permitted me to live with him. [page : the lawfulness of rebellion. a.d. .] goldsmith, as usual, endeavoured, with too much eagerness, to _shine_[ ], and disputed very warmly with johnson against the well-known maxim of the british constitution, 'the king can do no wrong;' affirming, that 'what was morally false could not be politically true; and as the king might, in the exercise of his regal power, command and cause the doing of what was wrong, it certainly might be said, in sense and in reason, that he could do wrong.' johnson. 'sir, you are to consider, that in our constitution, according to its true principles, the king is the head; he is supreme; he is above every thing, and there is no power by which he can be tried. therefore, it is, sir, that we hold the king can do no wrong; that whatever may happen to be wrong in government may not be above our reach, by being ascribed to majesty[ ]. redress is always to be had against oppression, by punishing the immediate agents. the king, though he should command, cannot force a judge to condemn a man unjustly; therefore it is the judge whom we prosecute and punish. political institutions are formed upon the consideration of what will most frequently tend to the good of the whole, although now and then exceptions may occur. thus it is better in general that a nation should have a supreme legislative power, although it may at times be abused. and then, sir, there is this consideration, that _if the abuse be enormous, nature will rise up, and claiming her original rights, overturn a corrupt political system_.' i mark this animated sentence with peculiar pleasure, as a noble instance of that truly dignified spirit of freedom which ever glowed in his heart, though he was charged with slavish tenets by superficial observers; because he was at all times indignant against that false patriotism, that pretended love of freedom, that unruly restlessness, which is inconsistent with the stable authority of any good government[ ]. this generous sentiment, which he uttered with great fervour, struck me exceedingly, and stirred my blood to that pitch of fancied resistance, the possibility of which i am glad to keep in mind, but to which i trust i never shall be forced. [page : a scotchman's noblest prospect. Ætat .] 'great abilities (said he) are not requisite for an historian; for in historical composition, all the greatest powers of the human mind are quiescent. he has facts ready to his hand; so there is no exercise of invention. imagination is not required in any high degree; only about as much as is used in the lower kinds of poetry. some penetration, accuracy, and colouring will fit a man for the task, if he can give the application which is necessary[ ].' 'bayle's _dictionary_ is a very useful work for those to consult who love the biographical part of literature, which is what i love most.' [ ] talking of the eminent writers in queen anne's reign, he observed, 'i think dr. arbuthnot the first man among them[ ]. he was the most universal genius, being an excellent physician, a man of deep learning, and a man of much humour. mr. addison was, to be sure, a great man; his learning was not profound; but his morality, his humour, and his elegance of writing, set him very high.' mr. ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topick of his conversation the praises of his native country. he began with saying, that there was very rich land round edinburgh. goldsmith, who had studied physick there, contradicted this, very untruly, with a sneering laugh[ ]. disconcerted a little by this, mr. ogilvie then took new ground, where, i suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe; for he observed, that scotland had a great many noble wild prospects. johnson. 'i believe, sir, you have a great many. norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. but, sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to england[ ]!' [page : the influence of weather. a.d. .] this unexpected and pointed sally produced a roar of applause. after all, however, those, who admire the rude grandeur of nature, cannot deny it to caledonia. on saturday, july , i found johnson surrounded with a numerous levee, but have not preserved any part of his conversation. on the th we had another evening by ourselves at the mitre. it happening to be a very rainy night, i made some common-place observations on the relaxation of nerves and depression of spirits which such weather occasioned[ ]; adding, however, that it was good for the vegetable creation. johnson, who, as we have already seen[ ], denied that the temperature of the air had any influence on the human frame, answered, with a smile of ridicule, 'why yes, sir, it is good for vegetables, and for the animals who eat those vegetables, and for the animals who eat those animals.' this observation of his aptly enough introduced a good supper; and i soon forgot, in johnson's company, the influence of a moist atmosphere. [page : boswell's father. Ætat .] feeling myself now quite at ease as his companion, though i had all possible reverence for him, i expressed a regret that i could not be so easy with my father[ ], though he was not much older than johnson, and certainly however respectable had not more learning and greater abilities to depress me. i asked him the reason of this. johnson. 'why, sir, i am a man of the world. i live in the world, and i take, in some degree, the colour of the world as it moves along. your father is a judge in a remote part of the island, and all his notions are taken from the old world. besides, sir, there must always be a struggle between a father and son, while one aims at power and the other at independence[ ].' i said, i was afraid my father would force me to be a lawyer. johnson. 'sir, you need not be afraid of his forcing you to be a laborious practising lawyer; that is not in his power. for as the proverb says, "one man may lead a horse to the water, but twenty cannot make him drink." he may be displeased that you are not what he wishes you to be; but that displeasure will not go far. if he insists only on your having as much law as is necessary for a man of property, and then endeavours to get you into parliament, he is quite in the right.' he enlarged very convincingly upon the excellence of rhyme over blank verse in english poetry[ ]. i mentioned to him that dr. adam smith, in his lectures upon composition, when i studied under him in the college of glasgow, had maintained the same opinion strenuously, and i repeated some of his arguments. johnson. 'sir, i was once in company with smith, and we did not take to each other[ ]; but had i known that he loved rhyme as much as you tell me he does, i should have hugged him.' [page : the evidences of christianity. a.d. .] talking of those who denied the truth of christianity, he said, 'it is always easy to be on the negative side. if a man were now to deny that there is salt upon the table, you could not reduce him to an absurdity. come, let us try this a little further. i deny that canada is taken, and i can support my denial by pretty good arguments. the french are a much more numerous people than we; and it is not likely that they would allow us to take it. "but the ministry have assured us, in all the formality of _the gazette_, that it is taken."--very true. but the ministry have put us to an enormous expence by the war in america, and it is their interest to persuade us that we have got something for our money.--"but the fact is confirmed by thousands of men who were at the taking of it."--ay, but these men have still more interest in deceiving us. they don't want that you should think the french have beat them, but that they have beat the french. now suppose you should go over and find that it is really taken, that would only satisfy yourself; for when you come home we will not believe you. we will say, you have been bribed.--yet, sir, notwithstanding all these plausible objections, we have no doubt that canada is really ours. such is the weight of common testimony. how much stronger are the evidences of the christian religion!' 'idleness is a disease which must be combated; but i would not advise a rigid adherence to a particular plan of study. i myself have never persisted in any plan for two days together. a man ought to read just as inclination leads him; for what he reads as a task will do him little good. a young man should read five hours in a day, and so may acquire a great deal of knowledge[ ].' [page : johnson's pension. Ætat .] to a man of vigorous intellect and arduous curiosity like his own, reading without a regular plan may be beneficial; though even such a man must submit to it, if he would attain a full understanding of any of the sciences. to such a degree of unrestrained frankness had he now accustomed me, that in the course of this evening i talked of the numerous reflections which had been thrown out against him[ ] on account of his having accepted a pension from his present majesty. 'why, sir, (said he, with a hearty laugh,) it is a mighty foolish noise that they make[ ]. i have accepted of a pension as a reward which has been thought due to my literary merit; and now that i have this pension, i am the same man in every respect that i have ever been[ ]; i retain the same principles. it is true, that i cannot now curse (smiling) the house of hanover; nor would it be decent for me to drink king james's health in the wine that king george gives me money to pay for. but, sir, i think that the pleasure of cursing the house of hanover, and drinking king james's health, are amply overbalanced by three hundred pounds a year.' [page : johnson's jacobitism. a.d. .] there was here, most certainly, an affectation of more jacobitism than he really had; and indeed an intention of admitting, for the moment, in a much greater extent than it really existed, the charge of disaffection imputed to him by the world[ ], merely for the purpose of shewing how dexterously he could repel an attack, even though he were placed in the most disadvantageous position; for i have heard him declare, that if holding up his right hand would have secured victory at culloden to prince charles's army, he was not sure he would have held it up; so little confidence had he in the right claimed by the house of stuart, and so fearful was he of the consequences of another revolution on the throne of great-britain; and mr. topham beauclerk assured me, he had heard him say this before he had his pension. at another time he said to mr. langton, 'nothing has ever offered, that has made it worth my while to consider the question fully.' he, however, also said to the same gentleman, talking of king james the second, 'it was become impossible for him to reign any longer in this country.'[ ] he no doubt had an early attachment to the house of stuart; but his zeal had cooled as his reason strengthened. indeed i heard him once say, that 'after the death of a violent whig, with whom he used to contend with great eagerness, he felt his toryism much abated.'[ ] i suppose he meant mr. walmsley. [ ] [page : whiggism. Ætat .] yet there is no doubt that at earlier periods he was wont often to exercise both his pleasantry and ingenuity in talking jacobitism. my much respected friend, dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, has favoured me with the following admirable instance from his lordship's own recollection. one day when dining at old mr. langton's where miss roberts,[ ] his niece, was one of the company, johnson, with his usual complacent attention to the fair sex, took her by the hand and said, 'my dear, i hope you are a jacobite.' old mr. langton, who, though a high and steady tory, was attached to the present royal family, seemed offended, and asked johnson, with great warmth, what he could mean by putting such a question to his niece? 'why, sir, (said johnson) i meant no offence to your niece, i meant her a great compliment. a jacobite, sir, believes in the divine right of kings. he that believes in the divine right of kings believes in a divinity. a jacobite believes in the divine right of bishops. he that believes in the divine right of bishops believes in the divine authority of the christian religion. therefore, sir, a jacobite is neither an atheist nor a deist. that cannot be said of a whig; for _whiggism is a negation of all principle_[ ].' he advised me, when abroad, to be as much as i could with the professors in the universities, and with the clergy; for from their conversation i might expect the best accounts of every thing in whatever country i should be, with the additional advantage of keeping my learning alive. it will be observed, that when giving me advice as to my travels, dr. johnson did not dwell upon cities, and palaces, and pictures, and shows, and arcadian scenes. he was of lord essex's opinion, who advises his kinsman roger earl of rutland, 'rather to go an hundred miles to speak with one wise man, than five miles to see a fair town[ ].' [page : lord hailes. a.d. .] i described to him an impudent fellow[ ] from scotland, who affected to be a savage, and railed at all established systems. johnson. 'there is nothing surprizing in this, sir. he wants to make himself conspicuous. he would tumble in a hogstye, as long as you looked at him and called to him to come out. but let him alone, never mind him, and he'll soon give it over.' i added, that the same person maintained that there was no distinction between virtue and vice. johnson. 'why, sir, if the fellow does not think as he speaks, he is lying; and i see not what honour he can propose to himself from having the character of a lyar. but if he does really think that there is no distinction between virtue and vice, why, sir, when he leaves our houses let us count our spoons[ ].' sir david dalrymple, now one of the judges of scotland by the title of lord hailes, had contributed much to increase my high opinion of johnson, on account of his writings, long before i attained to a personal acquaintance with him; i, in return, had informed johnson of sir david's eminent character for learning and religion[ ]; and johnson was so much pleased, that at one of our evening meetings he gave him for his toast. i at this time kept up a very frequent correspondence with sir david; and i read to dr. johnson to-night the following passage from the letter which i had last received from him:-- 'it gives me pleasure to think that you have obtained the friendship of mr. samuel johnson. he is one of the best moral writers which england has produced. at the same time, i envy you the free and undisguised converse with such a man. may i beg you to present my best respects to him, and to assure him of the veneration which i entertain for the authour of the _rambler_ and of _rasselas_? let me recommend this last work to you; with the _rambler_ you certainly are acquainted. in _rasselas_ you will see a tender-hearted operator, who probes the wound only to heal it. swift, on the contrary, mangles human nature. he cuts and slashes, as if he took pleasure in the operation, like the tyrant who said, _ita feri ut se sentiat emori_[ ].' [page : journal-keeping. Ætat .] johnson seemed to be much gratified by this just and well-turned compliment. he recommended to me to keep a journal of my life, full and unreserved[ ]. he said it would be a very good exercise, and would yield me great satisfaction when the particulars were faded from my remembrance. i was uncommonly fortunate in having had a previous coincidence of opinion with him upon this subject, for i had kept such a journal for some time[ ]; and it was no small pleasure to me to have this to tell him, and to receive his approbation. he counselled me to keep it private, and said i might surely have a friend who would burn it in case of my death. from this habit i have been enabled to give the world so many anecdotes, which would otherwise have been lost to posterity. i mentioned that i was afraid i put into my journal too many little incidents. johnson. 'there is nothing, sir, too little for so little a creature as man. it is by studying little things that we attain the great art of having as little misery and as much happiness as possible[ ].' [page : sir thomas robinson. a.d. .] next morning mr. dempster happened to call on me, and was so much struck even with the imperfect account which i gave him of dr. johnson's conversation, that to his honour be it recorded, when i complained that drinking port and sitting up late with him affected my nerves for some time after, he said, 'one had better be palsied at eighteen than not keep company with such a man[ ].' [page : the king of prussia. Ætat .] on tuesday, july [ ], i found tall sir thomas robinson[ ] sitting with johnson. sir thomas said, that the king of prussia valued himself upon three things;--upon being a hero, a musician, and an authour. johnson. 'pretty well, sir, for one man. as to his being an authour, i have not looked at his poetry; but his prose is poor stuff. he writes just as you might suppose voltaire's footboy to do, who has been his amanuensis. he has such parts as the valet might have, and about as much of the colouring of the style as might be got by transcribing his works.' when i was at ferney, i repeated this to voltaire, in order to reconcile him somewhat to johnson, whom he, in affecting the english mode of expression, had previously characterised as 'a superstitious dog;' but after hearing such a criticism on frederick the great, with whom he was then on bad terms, he exclaimed, 'an honest fellow[ ]!' but i think the criticism much too severe; for the _memoirs of the house of brandenburgh_ are written as well as many works of that kind. his poetry, for the style of which he himself makes a frank apology, '_jargonnant un françois barbare_,' though fraught with pernicious ravings of infidelity, has, in many places, great animation, and in some a pathetick tenderness[ ]. upon this contemptuous animadversion on the king of prussia, i observed to johnson, 'it would seem then, sir, that much less parts are necessary to make a king, than to make an authour; for the king of prussia is confessedly the greatest king now in europe, yet you think he makes a very poor figure as an authour.' [page : johnson's library. a.d. .] mr. levet this day shewed me dr. johnson's library, which was contained in two garrets over his chambers, where lintot, son of the celebrated bookseller of that name, had formerly his warehouse[ ]. i found a number of good books, but very dusty and in great confusion[ ]. the floor was strewed with manuscript leaves, in johnson's own hand-writing, which i beheld with a degree of veneration, supposing they perhaps might contain portions of _the rambler_ or of _rasselas_. i observed an apparatus for chymical experiments, of which johnson was all his life very fond[ ]. the place seemed to be very favourable for retirement and meditation. johnson told me, that he went up thither without mentioning it to his servant, when he wanted to study, secure from interruption; for he would not allow his servant to say he was not at home when he really was. 'a servant's strict regard for truth, (said he) must be weakened by such a practice. a philosopher may know that it is merely a form of denial; but few servants are such nice distinguishers. if i accustom a servant to tell a lie for _me_, have i not reason to apprehend that he will tell many lies for _himself_.' i am, however, satisfied that every servant, of any degree of intelligence, understands saying his master is not at home, not at all as the affirmation of a fact, but as customary words, intimating that his master wishes not to be seen; so that there can be no bad effect from it. [page : copyright in books. Ætat .] mr. temple, now vicar of st. gluvias, cornwall[ ], who had been my intimate friend for many years, had at this time chambers in farrar's-buildings, at the bottom of inner temple-lane, which he kindly lent me upon my quitting my lodgings, he being to return to trinity hall, cambridge. i found them particularly convenient for me, as they were so near dr. johnson's. on wednesday, july , dr. johnson, mr. dempster, and my uncle dr. boswell, who happened to be now in london, supped with me at these chambers. johnson. 'pity is not natural to man. children are always cruel. savages are always cruel. pity is acquired and improved by the cultivation of reason. we may have uneasy sensations from seeing a creature in distress, without pity; for we have not pity unless we wish to relieve them. when i am on my way to dine with a friend, and finding it late, have bid the coachman make haste, if i happen to attend when he whips his horses, i may feel unpleasantly that the animals are put to pain, but i do not wish him to desist. no, sir, i wish him to drive on.' mr. alexander donaldson, bookseller of edinburgh, had for some time opened a shop in london, and sold his cheap editions of the most popular english books, in defiance of the supposed common-law right of _literary property_[ ]. johnson, though he concurred in the opinion which was afterwards sanctioned by a judgement of the house of lords[ ], that there was no such right, was at this time very angry that the booksellers of london, for whom he uniformly professed much regard, should suffer from an invasion of what they had ever considered to be secure: and he was loud and violent against mr. donaldson. 'he is a fellow who takes advantage of the law to injure his brethren; for, notwithstanding that the statute secures only fourteen years of exclusive right, it has always been understood by _the trade_[ ], that he, who buys the copyright of a book from the authour, obtains a perpetual property; and upon that belief, numberless bargains are made to transfer that property after the expiration of the statutory term. now donaldson, i say, takes advantage here, of people who have really an equitable title from usage; and if we consider how few of the books, of which they buy the property, succeed so well as to bring profit, we should be of opinion that the term of fourteen years is too short; it should be sixty years.' dempster. 'donaldson, sir, is anxious for the encouragement of literature. he reduces the price of books, so that poor students may buy them[ ].' johnson, (laughing) 'well, sir, allowing that to be his motive, he is no better than robin hood, who robbed the rich in order to give to the poor.' [page : humes style. Ætat .] it is remarkable, that when the great question concerning literary property came to be ultimately tried before the supreme tribunal of this country, in consequence of the very spirited exertions of mr. donaldson[ ], dr. johnson was zealous against a perpetuity; but he thought that the term of the exclusive right of authours should be considerably enlarged. he was then for granting a hundred years. the conversation now turned upon mr. david hume's style. johnson. 'why, sir, his style is not english; the structure of his sentences is french[ ]. now the french structure and the english structure may, in the nature of things, be equally good. but if you allow that the english language is established, he is wrong. my name might originally have been nicholson, as well as johnson; but were you to call me nicholson now, you would call me very absurdly.' [page : merit set against fortune. a.d. .] rousseau's treatise on the inequality of mankind[ ] was at this time a fashionable topick. it gave rise to an observation by mr. dempster, that the advantages of fortune and rank were nothing to a wise man, who ought to value only merit. johnson. 'if man were a savage, living in the woods by himself, this might be true; but in civilized society we all depend upon each other, and our happiness is very much owing to the good opinion of mankind. now, sir, in civilized society, external advantages make us more respected. a man with a good coat upon his back meets with a better reception than he who has a bad one[ ]. [page : the 'advantages' of poverty. Ætat .] sir, you may analyse this, and say what is there in it? but that will avail you nothing, for it is a part of a general system. pound st. paul's church into atoms, and consider any single atom; it is, to be sure, good for nothing: but, put all these atoms together, and you have st. paul's church. so it is with human felicity, which is made up of many ingredients, each of which may be shewn to be very insignificant. in civilized society, personal merit will not serve you so much as money will. sir, you may make the experiment. go into the street, and give one man a lecture on morality, and another a shilling, and see which will respect you most. if you wish only to support nature, sir william petty fixes your allowance at three pounds a year[ ] but as times are much altered, let us call it six pounds. this sum will fill your belly, shelter you from the weather, and even get you a strong lasting coat, supposing it to be made of good bull's hide. now, sir, all beyond this is artificial, and is desired in order to obtain a greater degree of respect from our fellow-creatures. and, sir, if six hundred pounds a year procure a man more consequence, and, of course, more happiness than six pounds a year, the same proportion will hold as to six thousand, and so on as far as opulence can be carried. perhaps he who has a large fortune may not be so happy as he who has a small one; but that must proceed from other causes than from his having the large fortune: for, _caeteris paribus_, he who is rich in a civilized society, must be happier than he who is poor; as riches, if properly used, (and it is a man's own fault if they are not,) must be productive of the highest advantages. money, to be sure, of itself is of no use; for its only use is to part with it. rousseau, and all those who deal in paradoxes, are led away by a childish desire of novelty[ ]. when i was a boy, i used always to choose the wrong side of a debate, because most ingenious things, that is to say, most new things, could be said upon it. sir, there is nothing for which you may not muster up more plausible arguments, than those which are urged against wealth and other external advantages. why, now, there is stealing; why should it be thought a crime? when we consider by what unjust methods property has been often acquired, and that what was unjustly got it must be unjust to keep, where is the harm in one man's taking the property of another from him? besides, sir, when we consider the bad use that many people make of their property, and how much better use the thief may make of it, it may be defended as a very allowable practice. yet, sir, the experience of mankind has discovered stealing to be so very bad a thing, that they make no scruple to hang a man for it. when i was running about this town a very poor fellow, i was a great arguer for the advantages of poverty; but i was, at the same time, very sorry to be poor. sir, all the arguments which are brought to represent poverty as no evil, shew it to be evidently a great evil. you never find people labouring to convince you that you may live very happily upon a plentiful fortune.--so you hear people talking how miserable a king must be; and yet they all wish to be in his place[ ].' [page : great kings always social. a.d. .] it was suggested that kings must be unhappy, because they are deprived of the greatest of all satisfactions, easy and unreserved society. johnson. 'that is an ill-founded notion. being a king does not exclude a man from such society. great kings have always been social. the king of prussia, the only great king at present, is very social[ ]. charles the second, the last king of england who was a man of parts, was social; and our henrys and edwards were all social.' mr. dempster having endeavoured to maintain that intrinsick merit _ought_ to make the only distinction amongst mankind. johnson. 'why, sir, mankind have found that this cannot be. how shall we determine the proportion of intrinsick merit? were that to be the only distinction amongst mankind, we should soon quarrel about the degrees of it. were all distinctions abolished, the strongest would not long acquiesce, but would endeavour to obtain a superiority by their bodily strength. but, sir, as subordination is very necessary for society, and contensions for superiority very dangerous, mankind, that is to say, all civilized nations, have settled it upon a plain invariable principle. a man is born to hereditary rank; or his being appointed to certain offices, gives him a certain rank. subordination tends greatly to human happiness. were we all upon an equality, we should have no other enjoyment than mere animal pleasure[ ].' [page : johnson's respect for rank. Ætat .] i said, i considered distinction of rank to be of so much importance in civilised society, that if i were asked on the same day to dine with the first duke in england, and with the first man in britain for genius, i should hesitate which to prefer. johnson. 'to be sure, sir, if you were to dine only once, and it were never to be known where you dined, you would choose rather to dine with the first man for genius; but to gain most respect, you should dine with the first duke in england. for nine people in ten that you meet with, would have a higher opinion of you for having dined with a duke; and the great genius himself would receive you better, because you had been with the great duke.' he took care to guard himself against any possible suspicion that his settled principles of reverence for rank and respect for wealth were at all owing to mean or interested motives; for he asserted his own independence as a literary man. 'no man (said he) who ever lived by literature, has lived more independently than i have done.' he said he had taken longer time than he needed to have done in composing his _dictionary_. he received our compliments upon that great work with complacency, and told us that the academy _della crusca_[ ] could scarcely believe that it was done by one man. [page : sceptical innovators. a.d. .] next morning i found him alone, and have preserved the following fragments of his conversation. of a gentleman[ ] who was mentioned, he said, 'i have not met with any man for a long time who has given me such general displeasure. he is totally unfixed in his principles, and wants to puzzle other people. i said his principles had been poisoned by a noted infidel writer, but that he was, nevertheless, a benevolent good man. johnson. 'we can have no dependance upon that instinctive, that constitutional goodness which is not founded upon principle. i grant you that such a man may be a very amiable member of society. i can conceive him placed in such a situation that he is not much tempted to deviate from what is right; and as every man prefers virtue, when there is not some strong incitement to transgress its precepts, i can conceive him doing nothing wrong. but if such a man stood in need of money, i should not like to trust him; and i should certainly not trust him with young ladies, for _there_ there is always temptation. hume, and other sceptical innovators, are vain men, and will gratify themselves at any expence. truth will not afford sufficient food to their vanity; so they have betaken themselves to errour. truth, sir, is a cow which will yield such people no more milk, and so they are gone to milk the bull[ ]. if i could have allowed myself to gratify my vanity at the expence of truth, what fame might i have acquired. every thing which hume has advanced against christianity had passed through my mind long before he wrote. always remember this, that after a system is well settled upon positive evidence, a few partial objections ought not to shake it. the human mind is so limited, that it cannot take in all the parts of a subject, so that there may be objections raised against any thing. there are objections against a _plenum_, and objections against a _vacuum_; yet one of them must certainly be true[ ].' [page : the proofs of christianity. Ætat .] i mentioned hume's argument against the belief of miracles, that it is more probable that the witnesses to the truth of them are mistaken, or speak falsely, than that the miracles should be true[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, the great difficulty of proving miracles should make us very cautious in believing them. but let us consider; although god has made nature to operate by certain fixed laws, yet it is not unreasonable to think that he may suspend those laws, in order to establish a system highly advantageous to mankind. now the christian religion is a most beneficial system, as it gives us light and certainty where we were before in darkness and doubt. the miracles which prove it are attested by men who had no interest in deceiving us; but who, on the contrary, were told that they should suffer persecution, and did actually lay down their lives in confirmation of the truth of the facts which they asserted. indeed, for some centuries the heathens did not pretend to deny the miracles; but said they were performed by the aid of evil spirits. this is a circumstance of great weight. then, sir, when we take the proofs derived from prophecies which have been so exactly fulfilled, we have most satisfactory evidence. supposing a miracle possible, as to which, in my opinion, there can be no doubt, we have as strong evidence for the miracles in support of christianity, as the nature of the thing admits.' at night mr. johnson and i supped in a private room at the turk's head coffee-house, in the strand[ ]. 'i encourage this house (said he;) for the mistress of it is a good civil woman, and has not much business.' 'sir, i love the acquaintance of young people; because, in the first place, i don't like to think myself growing old. in the next place, young acquaintances must last longest, if they do last; and then, sir, young men have more virtue than old men; they have more generous sentiments in every respect[ ]. i love the young dogs of this age: they have more wit and humour and knowledge of life than we had; but then the dogs are not so good scholars, sir, in my early years i read very hard. it is a sad reflection, but a true one, that i knew almost as much at eighteen as i do now[ ]. my judgement, to be sure, was not so good; but i had all the facts. i remember very well, when i was at oxford, an old gentleman said to me, "young man, ply your book diligently now, and acquire a stock of knowledge; for when years come upon you, you will find that poring upon books will be but an irksome task."' [page : remedies for melancholy. a.d. .] this account of his reading, given by himself in plain words, sufficiently confirms what i have already advanced upon the disputed question as to his application. it reconciles any seeming inconsistency in his way of talking upon it at different times; and shews that idleness and reading hard were with him relative terms, the import of which, as used by him, must be gathered from a comparison with what scholars of different degrees of ardour and assiduity have been known to do. and let it be remembered, that he was now talking spontaneously, and expressing his genuine sentiments; whereas at other times he might be induced from his spirit of contradiction, or more properly from his love of argumentative contest, to speak lightly of his own application to study. it is pleasing to consider that the old gentleman's gloomy prophecy as to the irksomeness of books to men of an advanced age, which is too often fulfilled, was so far from being verified in johnson, that his ardour for literature never failed, and his last writings had more ease and vivacity than any of his earlier productions. he mentioned to me now, for the first time, that he had been distrest by melancholy, and for that reason had been obliged to fly from study and meditation, to the dissipating variety of life. against melancholy he recommended constant occupation of mind, a great deal of exercise, moderation in eating and drinking, and especially to shun drinking at night. he said melancholy people were apt to fly to intemperance for relief, but that it sunk them much deeper in misery[ ]. he observed, that labouring men who work hard, and live sparingly, are seldom or never troubled with low spirits. [page : mrs. macaulay's footman. Ætat .] [page : levelling up. a.d. .] he again insisted on the duty of maintaining subordination of rank. 'sir, i would no more deprive a nobleman of his respect, than of his money. i consider myself as acting a part in the great system of society, and i do to others as i would have them to do to me. i would behave to a nobleman as i should expect he would behave to me, were i a nobleman and he sam. johnson. sir, there is one mrs. macaulay[ ] in this town, a great republican. one day when i was at her house, i put on a very grave countenance, and said to her, "madam, i am now become a convert to your way of thinking. i am convinced that all mankind are upon an equal footing; and to give you an unquestionable proof, madam, that i am in earnest, here is a very sensible, civil, well-behaved fellow-citizen, your footman; i desire that he may be allowed to sit down and dine with us[ ]." i thus, sir, shewed her the absurdity of the levelling doctrine. she has never liked me since. sir, your levellers wish to level _down_ as far as themselves; but they cannot bear levelling _up_ to themselves. they would all have some people under them; why not then have some people above them?' i mentioned a certain authour who disgusted me by his forwardness, and by shewing no deference to noblemen into whose company he was admitted. johnson. 'suppose a shoemaker should claim an equality with him, as he does with a lord; how he would stare. "why, sir, do you stare? (says the shoemaker,) i do great service to society. 'tis true i am paid for doing it; but so are you, sir: and i am sorry to say it, paid better than i am, for doing something not so necessary. for mankind could do better without your books, than without my shoes." thus, sir, there would be a perpetual struggle for precedence, were there no fixed invariable rules for the distinction of rank, which creates no jealousy, as it is allowed to be accidental.' he said, dr. joseph warton was a very agreeable man, and his _essay on the genius and writings of pope_, a very pleasing book. i wondered that he delayed so long to give us the continuation of it[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, i suppose he finds himself a little disappointed, in not having been able to persuade the world to be of his opinion as to pope.' we have now been favoured with the concluding volume, in which, to use a parliamentary expression, he has _explained_, so as not to appear quite so adverse to the opinion of the world, concerning pope, as was at first thought[ ]; and we must all agree that his work is a most valuable accession to english literature. [page : sir james macdonald. Ætat .] a writer of deserved eminence[ ] being mentioned, johnson said, 'why, sir, he is a man of good parts, but being originally poor, he has got a love of mean company and low jocularity; a very bad thing, sir. to laugh is good, as to talk is good. but you ought no more to think it enough if you laugh, than you are to think it enough if you talk. you may laugh in as many ways as you talk; and surely _every_ way of talking that is practised cannot be esteemed.' [page : mark's western isles. a.d. .] i spoke of sir james macdonald[ ] as a young man of most distinguished merit, who united the highest reputation at eaton and oxford, with the patriarchal spirit of a great highland chieftain. i mentioned that sir james had said to me, that he had never seen mr. johnson, but he had a great respect for him, though at the same time it was mixed with some degree of terrour[ ]. johnson. 'sir, if he were to be acquainted with me, it might lessen both.' [page : a schoolboy's happiness. Ætat .] the mention of this gentleman led us to talk of the western islands of scotland, to visit which he expressed a wish that then appeared to me a very romantick fancy, which i little thought would be afterwards realised[ ]. he told me, that his father had put martin's account of those islands into his hands when he was very young, and that he was highly pleased with it; that he was particularly struck with the st. kilda man's notion that the high church of glasgow had been hollowed out of a rock[ ]; a circumstance to which old mr. johnson had directed his attention. he said he would go to the hebrides with me, when i returned from my travels, unless some very good companion should offer when i was absent, which he did not think probable; adding, 'there are few people to whom i take so much to as you.' and when i talked of my leaving england, he said with a very affectionate air, 'my dear boswell, i should be very unhappy at parting, did i think we were not to meet again[ ].' i cannot too often remind my readers, that although such instances of his kindness are doubtless very flattering to me, yet i hope my recording them will be ascribed to a better motive than to vanity; for they afford unquestionable evidence of his tenderness and complacency, which some, while they were forced to acknowledge his great powers, have been so strenuous to deny. he maintained that a boy at school was the happiest of human beings[ ]. i supported a different opinion, from which i have never yet varied, that a man is happier; and i enlarged upon the anxiety and sufferings which are endured at school. johnson. 'ah! sir, a boy's being flogged is not so severe as a man's having the hiss of the world against him. men have a solicitude about fame[ ]; and the greater share they have of it, the more afraid they are of losing it.' i silently asked myself, 'is it possible that the great samuel johnson really entertains any such apprehension, and is not confident that his exalted fame is established upon a foundation never to be shaken?' he this evening drank a bumper to sir david dalrymple[ ], 'as a man of worth, a scholar, and a wit.' 'i have (said he) never heard of him except from you; but let him know my opinion of him: for as he does not shew himself much in the world, he should have the praise of the few who hear of him.' [page : the tale of a tub. a.d. .] on tuesday, july , i found mr. johnson alone. it was a very wet day, and i again complained of the disagreeable effects of such weather. johnson. 'sir, this is all imagination, which physicians encourage; for man lives in air, as a fish lives in water; so that if the atmosphere press heavy from above, there is an equal resistance from below. to be sure, bad weather is hard upon people who are obliged to be abroad; and men cannot labour so well in the open air in bad weather, as in good: but, sir, a smith or a taylor, whose work is within doors, will surely do as much in rainy weather, as in fair. some very delicate frames, indeed, may be affected by wet weather; but not common constitutions.' [ ] we talked of the education of children; and i asked him what he thought was best to teach them first. johnson. 'sir, it is no matter what you teach them first, any more than what leg you shall put into your breeches first. sir, you may stand disputing which is best to put in first, but in the mean time your breech is bare. sir, while you are considering which of two things you should teach your child first, another boy has learnt them both.' on thursday, july , we again supped in private at the turk's head coffee-house. johnson. 'swift has a higher reputation than he deserves. his excellence is strong sense; for his humour, though very well, is not remarkably good. i doubt whether _the tale of a tub_ be his; for he never owned it, and it is much above his usual manner[ ].' [page : mr. thomas sheridan's dulness. Ætat .] 'thompson, i think, had as much of the poet about him as most writers. every thing appeared to him through the medium of his favourite pursuit. he could not have viewed those two candles burning but with a poetical eye[ ].' 'has not ----[ ] a great deal of wit, sir?' johnson. 'i do not think so, sir. he is, indeed, continually attempting wit, but he fails. and i have no more pleasure in hearing a man attempting wit and failing, than in seeing a man trying to leap over a ditch and tumbling into it.' he laughed heartily, when i mentioned to him a saying of his concerning mr. thomas sheridan, which foote took a wicked pleasure to circulate. 'why, sir, sherry is dull, naturally dull; but it must have taken him a great deal of pains to become what we now see him. such an excess of stupidity, sir, is not in nature.' 'so (said he,) i allowed him all his own merit.' [page : experience the test of truth. a.d. .] he now added, 'sheridan cannot bear me. i bring his declamation to a point. i ask him a plain question, 'what do you mean to teach?' besides, sir, what influence can mr. sheridan have upon the language of this great country, by his narrow exertions? sir, it is burning a farthing candle at dover, to shew light at calais[ ].' talking of a young man[ ] who was uneasy from thinking that he was very deficient in learning and knowledge, he said, 'a man has no reason to complain who holds a middle place, and has many below him; and perhaps he has not six of his years above him;--perhaps not one. though he may not know any thing perfectly, the general mass of knowledge that he has acquired is considerable. time will do for him all that is wanting.' the conversation then took a philosophical turn. johnson. 'human experience, which is constantly contradicting theory, is the great test of truth. a system, built upon the discoveries of a great many minds, is always of more strength, than what is produced by the mere workings of any one mind, which, of itself, can do little. there is not so poor a book in the world that would not be a prodigious effort were it wrought out entirely by a single mind, without the aid of prior investigators. the french writers are superficial[ ]; because they are not scholars, and so proceed upon the mere power of their own minds; and we see how very little power they have.' [page : the university of salamancha. Ætat .] 'as to the christian religion, sir, besides the strong evidence which we have for it, there is a balance in its favour from the number of great men who have been convinced of its truth, after a serious consideration of the question. grotius was an acute man, a lawyer, a man accustomed to examine evidence, and he was convinced. grotius was not a recluse, but a man of the world, who certainly had no bias to the side of religion. sir isaac newton set out an infidel[ ], and came to be a very firm believer.' he this evening again recommended to me to perambulate spain[ ]. i said it would amuse him to get a letter from me dated at salamancha. johnson. 'i love the university of salamancha; for when the spaniards were in doubt as to the lawfulness of their conquering america, the university of salamancha gave it as their opinion that it was not lawful.' he spoke this with great emotion, and with that generous warmth which dictated the lines in his _london_, against spanish encroachment[ ]. i expressed my opinion of my friend derrick as but a poor writer. johnson. 'to be sure, sir, he is; but you are to consider that his being a literary man has got for him all that he has. it has made him king of bath[ ]. sir, he has nothing to say for himself but that he is a writer. had he not been a writer, he must have been sweeping the crossings in the streets, and asking halfpence from every body that past.' [page : mr. derrick. a.d. .] in justice, however, to the memory of mr. derrick, who was my first tutor in the ways of london, and shewed me the town in all its variety of departments, both literary and sportive, the particulars of which dr. johnson advised me to put in writing, it is proper to mention what johnson, at a subsequent period, said of him both as a writer and an editor: 'sir, i have often said, that if derrick's letters[ ] had been written by one of a more established name, they would have been thought very pretty letters[ ].' and, 'i sent derrick to dryden's relations to gather materials for his life; and i believe he got all that i myself should have got[ ].' poor derrick! i remember him with kindness. yet i cannot withhold from my readers a pleasant humourous sally which could not have hurt him had he been alive, and now is perfectly harmless. in his collection of poems, there is one upon entering the harbour of dublin, his native city, after a long absence. it begins thus: 'eblana! much lov'd city, hail! where first i saw the light of day.' and after a solemn reflection on his being 'numbered with forgotten dead,' there is the following stanza: 'unless my lines protract my fame, and those, who chance to read them, cry, i knew him! derrick was his name, in yonder tomb his ashes lie.' which was thus happily parodied by mr. john home, to whom we owe the beautiful and pathetick tragedy of _douglas_: 'unless my _deeds_ protract my fame, _and he who passes sadly sings_, i knew him! derrick was his name, _on yonder tree his carcase swings_!' [page : a day at greenwich. Ætat .] i doubt much whether the amiable and ingenious author of these burlesque lines will recollect them, for they were produced extempore one evening while he and i were walking together in the dining-room at eglintoune castle, in , and i have never mentioned them to him since. johnson said once to me, 'sir, i honour derrick for his presence of mind. one night, when floyd[ ], another poor authour, was wandering about the streets in the night, he found derrick fast asleep upon a bulk[ ]; upon being suddenly waked, derrick started up, "my dear floyd, i am sorry to see you in this destitute state; will you go home with me to _my lodgings_?"' i again begged his advice as to my method of study at utrecht. 'come, (said he) let us make a day of it. let us go down to greenwich and dine, and talk of it there.' the following saturday was fixed for this excursion. as we walked along the strand to-night, arm in arm, a woman of the town accosted us, in the usual enticing manner. 'no, no, my girl, (said johnson) it won't do.' he, however, did not treat her with harshness, and we talked of the wretched life of such women; and agreed, that much more misery than happiness, upon the whole, is produced by illicit commerce between the sexes. [page : the desire of knowledge. a.d. .] on saturday, july , dr. johnson and i took a sculler at the temple-stairs, and set out for greenwich. i asked him if he really thought a knowledge of the greek and latin languages an essential requisite to a good education. johnson. 'most certainly, sir; for those who know them have a very great advantage over those who do not. nay, sir, it is wonderful what a difference learning makes upon people even in the common intercourse of life, which does not appear to be much connected with it.' 'and yet, (said i) people go through the world very well, and carry on the business of life to good advantage, without learning.' johnson. 'why, sir, that may be true in cases where learning cannot possibly be of any use; for instance, this boy rows us as well without learning, as if he could sing the song of orpheus to the argonauts, who were the first sailors.' he then called to the boy, 'what would you give, my lad, to know about the argonauts?' 'sir (said the boy,) i would give what i have.' johnson was much pleased with his answer, and we gave him a double fare. dr. johnson then turning to me, 'sir, (said he) a desire of knowledge is the natural feeling of mankind; and every human being, whose mind is not debauched, will be willing to give all that he has to get knowledge[ ].' we landed at the old swan[ ], and walked to billingsgate, where we took oars, and moved smoothly along the silver thames. it was a very fine day. we were entertained with the immense number and variety of ships that were lying at anchor, and with the beautiful country on each side of the river. [page : the methodists. Ætat .] [page : a course of study. a.d. .] i talked of preaching, and of the great success which those called methodists[ ] have. johnson. 'sir, it is owing to their expressing themselves in a plain and familiar manner, which is the only way to do good to the common people, and which clergymen of genius and learning ought to do from a principle of duty, when it is suited to their congregations; a practice, for which they will be praised by men of sense[ ]. to insist against drunkenness as a crime, because it debases reason, the noblest faculty of man, would be of no service to the common people: but to tell them that they may die in a fit of drunkenness, and shew them how dreadful that would be, cannot fail to make a deep impression. sir, when your scotch clergy give up their homely manner, religion will soon decay in that country.' let this observation, as johnson meant it, be ever remembered. i was much pleased to find myself with johnson at greenwich, which he celebrates in his _london_ as a favourite scene. i had the poem in my pocket, and read the lines aloud with enthusiasm: 'on thames's banks in silent thought we stood: where greenwich smiles upon the silver flood: pleas'd[ ] with the seat which gave eliza birth, we kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth.' he remarked that the structure of greenwich hospital was too magnificent for a place of charity, and that its parts were too much detached to make one great whole. buchanan, he said, was a very fine poet; and observed, that he was the first who complimented a lady, by ascribing to her the different perfections of the heathen goddesses[ ]; but that johnston[ ] improved upon this, by making his lady, at the same time, free from their defects. he dwelt upon buchanan's elegant verses to mary queen of scots, _nympha caledoniae_, &c., and spoke with enthusiasm of the beauty of latin verse. 'all the modern languages (said he) cannot furnish so melodious a line as 'formosam resonare doces amarillida silvas[ ].' [page : nature and fleet-street. Ætat .] afterwards he entered upon the business of the day, which was to give me his advice as to a course of study. and here i am to mention with much regret, that my record of what he said is miserably scanty. i recollect with admiration an animating blaze of eloquence, which rouzed every intellectual power in me to the highest pitch, but must have dazzled me so much, that my memory could not preserve the substance of his discourse[ ]; for the note which i find of it is no more than this:--'he ran over the grand scale of human knowledge; advised me to select some particular branch to excel in, but to acquire a little of every kind.' the defect of my minutes will be fully supplied by a long letter upon the subject which he favoured me with, after i had been some time at utrecht, and which my readers will have the pleasure to peruse in its proper place. we walked in the evening in greenwich park. he asked me, i suppose, by way of trying my disposition, 'is not this very fine?' having no exquisite relish of the beauties of nature[ ], and being more delighted with 'the busy hum of men[ ],' i answered, 'yes, sir; but not equal to fleet-street[ ].' johnson. 'you are right, sir.' i am aware that many of my readers may censure my want of taste. let me, however, shelter myself under the authority of a very fashionable baronet[ ] in the brilliant world, who, on his attention being called to the fragrance of a may evening in the country, observed, 'this may be very well; but, for my part, i prefer the smell of a flambeau at the play-house[ ].' [page : auchinleck. a.d. .] we staid so long at greenwich, that our sail up the river, in our return to london, was by no means so pleasant as in the morning; for the night air was so cold that it made me shiver. i was the more sensible of it from having sat up all the night before, recollecting and writing in my journal what i thought worthy of preservation; an exertion, which, during the first part of my acquaintance with johnson, i frequently made. i remember having sat up four nights in one week, without being much incommoded in the day time. johnson, whose robust frame was not in the least affected by the cold, scolded me, as if my shivering had been a paltry effeminacy, saying, 'why do you shiver?' sir william scott,[ ] of the commons, told me, that when he complained of a headach in the post-chaise, as they were travelling together to scotland, johnson treated him in the same manner: 'at your age, sir, i had no head-ach.' it is not easy to make allowance for sensations in others, which we ourselves have not at the time. we must all have experienced how very differently we are affected by the complaints of our neighbours, when we are well and when we are ill. in full health, we can scarcely believe that they suffer much; so faint is the image of pain upon our imagination: when softened by sickness, we readily sympathize with the sufferings of others. we concluded the day at the turk's head coffee-house very socially. he was pleased to listen to a particular account which i gave him of my family, and of its hereditary estate, as to the extent and population of which he asked questions, and made calculations; recommending, at the same time, a liberal kindness to the tenantry, as people over whom the proprietor was placed by providence[ ]. he took delight in hearing my description of the romantick seat of my ancestors. 'i must be there, sir, (said he) and we will live in the old castle; and if there is not a room in it remaining, we will build one.' i was highly flattered, but could scarcely indulge a hope that auchinleck would indeed be honoured by his presence, and celebrated by a description, as it afterwards was, in his _journey to the western islands_[ ]. [page : tea with miss williams. Ætat .] after we had again talked of my setting out for holland, he said, 'i must see thee out of england; i will accompany you to harwich.' i could not find words to express what i felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affectionate regard. next day, sunday, july , i told him i had been that morning at a meeting of the people called quakers, where i had heard a woman preach. johnson. 'sir, a woman's preaching is like a dog's walking on his hinder legs. it is not done well; but you are surprized to find it done at all.' on tuesday, august (the day of my departure from london having been fixed for the th,) dr. johnson did me the honour to pass a part of the morning with me at my chambers. he said, that 'he always felt an inclination to do nothing.' i observed, that it was strange to think that the most indolent man in britain had written the most laborious work, _the english dictionary_. i mentioned an imprudent publication[ ], by a certain friend of his, at an early period of life, and asked him if he thought it would hurt him. johnson. 'no, sir; not much. it may, perhaps, be mentioned at an election.' i had now made good my title to be a privileged man[ ], and was carried by him in the evening to drink tea with miss williams, whom, though under the misfortune of having lost her sight, i found to be agreeable in conversation; for she had a variety of literature, and expressed herself well; but her peculiar value was the intimacy in which she had long lived with johnson, by which she was well acquainted with his habits, and knew how to lead him on to talk. [page : convocation. a.d. .] after tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees. there we sauntered a considerable time; and i complained to him that my love of london and of his company was such, that i shrunk almost from the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much desired by young men[ ]. he roused me by manly and spirited conversation. he advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowledge, and to apply to greek an hour every day; and when i was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind. on wednesday, august , we had our last social evening at the turk's head coffee-house, before my setting out for foreign parts. i had the misfortune, before we parted, to irritate him unintentionally. i mentioned to him how common it was in the world to tell absurd stories of him, and to ascribe to him very strange sayings. johnson. 'what do they make me say, sir?' boswell. 'why, sir, as an instance very strange indeed, (laughing heartily as i spoke,) david hume told me, you said that you would stand before a battery of cannon, to restore the convocation to its full powers.' little did i apprehend that he had actually said this: but i was soon convinced of my errour; for, with a determined look, he thundered out 'and would i not, sir? shall the presbyterian _kirk_ of scotland have its general assembly, and the church of england be denied its convocation?' he was walking up and down the room while i told him the anecdote; but when he uttered this explosion of high-church zeal, he had come close to my chair, and his eyes flashed with indignation.[ ] i bowed to the storm, and diverted the force of it, by leading him to expatiate on the influence which religion derived from maintaining the church with great external respectability. i must not omit to mention that he this year wrote _the life of ascham_[dagger], and the dedication to the earl of shaftesbury[dagger], prefixed to the edition of that writer's english works, published by mr. bennet[ ]. [page : in the harwich stage coach. Ætat .] [page : blacklock's poetry. a.d. .] on friday, august , we set out early in the morning in the harwich stage coach. a fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young dutchman, seemed the most inclined among us to conversation. at the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children; and particularly, that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle. johnson. 'i wish, madam, you would educate me too; for i have been an idle fellow all my life.' 'i am sure, sir, (said she) you have not been idle.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there (pointing to me,) has been idle. he was idle at edinburgh. his father sent him to glasgow, where he continued to be idle. he then came to london, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to utrecht, where he will be as idle as ever.' i asked him privately how he could expose me so. johnson. 'poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about you, and will think of it no more.' in the afternoon the gentlewoman talked violently against the roman catholicks, and of the horrours of the inquisition. to the utter astonishment of all the passengers but myself, who knew that he could talk upon any side of a question, he defended the inquisition, and maintained, that 'false doctrine should be checked on its first appearance; that the civil power should unite with the church in punishing those who dared to attack the established religion, and that such only were punished by the inquisition[ ].' he had in his pocket '_pomponius mela de situ orbis_,' in which he read occasionally, and seemed very intent upon ancient geography. though by no means niggardly, his attention to what was generally right was so minute, that having observed at one of the stages that i ostentatiously gave a shilling to the coachman, when the custom was for each passenger to give only six-pence, he took me aside and scolded me, saying that what i had done would make the coachman dissatisfied with all the rest of the passengers, who gave him no more than his due. this was a just reprimand; for in whatever way a man may indulge his generosity or his vanity in spending his money, for the sake of others he ought not to raise the price of any article for which there is a constant demand. he talked of mr. blacklock's poetry, so far as it was descriptive of visible objects; and observed, that 'as its authour had the misfortune to be blind, we may be absolutely sure that such passages are combinations of what he has remembered of the works of other writers who could see. that foolish fellow, spence, has laboured to explain philosophically how blacklock may have done, by means of his own faculties, what it is impossible he should do[ ]. the solution, as i have given it, is plain. suppose, i know a man to be so lame that he is absolutely incapable to move himself, and i find him in a different room from that in which i left him; shall i puzzle myself with idle conjectures, that, perhaps, his nerves have by some unknown change all at once become effective? no, sir; it it clear how he got into a different room: he was _carried_.' [page : torture in holland. Ætat .] having stopped a night at colchester[ ], johnson talked of that town with veneration, for having stood a siege for charles the first. the dutchman alone now remained with us. he spoke english tolerably well; and thinking to recommend himself to us by expatiating on the superiority of the criminal jurisprudence of this country over that of holland, he inveighed against the barbarity of putting an accused person to the torture, in order to force a confession[ ]. but johnson was as ready for this, as for the inquisition. 'why, sir, you do not, i find, understand the law of your own country. the torture in holland is considered as a favour to an accused person; for no man is put to the torture there, unless there is as much evidence against him as would amount to conviction in england. an accused person among you, therefore, has one chance more to escape punishment, than those who are tried among us.' [page : johnson's relish for good eating. a.d. .] [page : a critick of cookery. Ætat .] [page : studied behaviour. a.d. .] at supper this night he talked of good eating with uncommon satisfaction. 'some people (said he,) have a foolish way of not minding, or pretending not to mind, what they eat. for my part, i mind my belly very studiously, and very carefully; for i look upon it, that he who does not mind his belly will hardly mind anything else[ ].' he now appeared to me _jean bull philosophe_, and he was, for the moment, not only serious but vehement. yet i have heard him, upon other occasions, talk with great contempt of people who were anxious to gratify their palates; and the th number of his _rambler_ is a masterly essay against gulosity[ ]. his practice, indeed, i must acknowledge, may be considered as casting the balance of his different opinions upon this subject; for i never knew any man who relished good eating more than he did. when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite[ ], which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible[ ]. to those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting; and it was doubtless not very suitable to the character of a philosopher, who should be distinguished by self-command. but it must be owned, that johnson, though he could be rigidly _abstemious_, was not a _temperate_ man either in eating or drinking. he could refrain, but he could not use moderately[ ]. he told me, that he had fasted two days without inconvenience, and that he had never been hungry but once[ ]. they who beheld with wonder how much he eat upon all occasions when his dinner was to his taste, could not easily conceive what he must have meant by hunger; and not only was he remarkable for the extraordinary quantity which he eat, but he was, or affected to be, a man of very nice discernment in the science of cookery. he used to descant critically on the dishes which had been at table where he had dined or supped, and to recollect very minutely what he had liked[ ]. i remember, when he was in scotland, his praising '_gordon's palates_', (a dish of palates at the honourable alexander gordon's) with a warmth of expression which might have done honour to more important subjects. 'as for maclaurin's imitation of a _made dish_, it was a wretched attempt[ ].' he about the same time was so much displeased with the performances of a nobleman's french cook, that he exclaimed with vehemence, 'i'd throw such a rascal into the river;' and he then proceeded to alarm a lady at whose house he was to sup[ ], by the following manifesto of his skill: 'i, madam, who live at a variety of good tables, am a much better judge of cookery, than any person who has a very tolerable cook, but lives much at home; for his palate is gradually adapted to the taste of his cook; whereas, madam, in trying by a wider range, i can more exquisitely judge[ ].' when invited to dine, even with an intimate friend, he was not pleased if something better than a plain dinner was not prepared for him. i have heard him say on such an occasion, 'this was a good dinner enough, to be sure; but it was not a dinner to _ask_ a man to.' on the other hand, he was wont to express, with great glee, his satisfaction when he had been entertained quite to his mind. one day when we had dined with his neighbour and landlord in bolt-court, mr. allen, the printer, whose old housekeeper had studied his taste in every thing, he pronounced this eulogy: 'sir, we could not have had a better dinner had there been a _synod of cooks_[ ].' while we were left by ourselves, after the dutchman had gone to bed, dr. johnson talked of that studied behaviour which many have recommended and practised. he disapproved of it; and said, 'i never considered whether i should be a grave man, or a merry man, but just let inclination, for the time, have its course[ ].' he flattered me with some hopes that he would, in the course of the following summer, come over to holland, and accompany me in a tour through the netherlands. i teized him with fanciful apprehensions of unhappiness. a moth having fluttered round the candle, and burnt itself, he laid hold of this little incident to admonish me; saying, with a sly look, and in a solemn but quiet tone, 'that creature was its own tormentor, and i believe its name was boswell.' [page : bishop berkley's sophistry. Ætat .] next day we got to harwich to dinner; and my passage in the packet-boat to helvoetsluys being secured, and my baggage put on board, we dined at our inn by ourselves. i happened to say it would be terrible if he should not find a speedy opportunity of returning to london, and be confined to so dull a place. johnson. 'don't, sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters[ ]. it would _not_ be _terrible_, though i _were_ to be detained some time here.' the practice of using words of disproportionate magnitude, is, no doubt, too frequent every where; but, i think, most remarkable among the french, of which, all who have travelled in france must have been struck with innumerable instances. we went and looked at the church, and having gone into it and walked up to the altar, johnson, whose piety was constant and fervent, sent me to my knees, saying, 'now that you are going to leave your native country, recommend yourself to the protection of your creator and redeemer.' [page : boswell embarks for holland. a.d. .] after we came out of the church, we stood talking for some time together of bishop berkeley's ingenious sophistry to prove the non-existence of matter, and that every thing in the universe is merely ideal. i observed, that though we are satisfied his doctrine is not true, it is impossible to refute it. i never shall forget the alacrity with which johnson answered, striking his foot with mighty force against a large stone, till he rebounded from it, 'i refute it _thus_[ ].' this was a stout exemplification of the _first truths of pere bouffier_[ ], or the _original principles_ of reid and of beattie; without admitting which, we can no more argue in metaphysicks, than we can argue in mathematicks without axioms. to me it is not conceivable how berkeley can be answered by pure reasoning; but i know that the nice and difficult task was to have been undertaken by one of the most luminous minds of the present age, had not politicks 'turned him from calm philosophy aside[ ].' what an admirable display of subtilty, united with brilliance, might his contending with berkeley have afforded us[ ]! how must we, when we reflect on the loss of such an intellectual feast, regret that he should be characterised as the man, 'who born for the universe narrow'd his mind, and to party gave up what was meant for mankind[ ]?' my revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. i said, 'i hope, sir, you will not forget me in my absence.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is more likely you should forget me, than that i should forget you.' as the vessel put out to sea, i kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestick frame in his usual manner: and at last i perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared[ ]. [page : johnson's first letter to boswell. Ætat .] utrecht seeming at first very dull to me, after the animated scenes of london, my spirits were grievously affected; and i wrote to johnson a plaintive and desponding letter, to which he paid no regard. afterwards, when i had acquired a firmer tone of mind, i wrote him a second letter, expressing much anxiety to hear from him. at length i received the following epistle, which was of important service to me, and, i trust, will be so to many others. 'a mr. boswell, À la cour de l'empereur, utrecht. 'dear sir, 'you are not to think yourself forgotten, or criminally neglected, that you have had yet no letter from me. i love to see my friends, to hear from them, to talk to them, and to talk of them; but it is not without a considerable effort of resolution that i prevail upon myself to write. i would not, however, gratify my own indolence by the omission of any important duty, or any office of real kindness. [page : boswell's character sketched by johnson. a.d. .] 'to tell you that i am or am not well, that i have or have not been in the country, that i drank your health in the room in which we sat last together, and that your acquaintance continue to speak of you with their former kindness, topicks with which those letters are commonly filled which are written only for the sake of writing, i seldom shall think worth communicating; but if i can have it in my power to calm any harassing disquiet, to excite any virtuous desire, to rectify any important opinion, or fortify any generous resolution, you need not doubt but i shall at least wish to prefer the pleasure of gratifying a friend much less esteemed than yourself, before the gloomy calm of idle vacancy. whether i shall easily arrive at an exact punctuality of correspondence, i cannot tell. i shall, at present, expect that you will receive this in return for two which i have had from you. the first, indeed, gave me an account so hopeless of the state of your mind, that it hardly admitted or deserved an answer; by the second i was much better pleased: and the pleasure will still be increased by such a narrative of the progress of your studies, as may evince the continuance of an equal and rational application of your mind to some useful enquiry. 'you will, perhaps, wish to ask, what study i would recommend. i shall not speak of theology, because it ought not to be considered as a question whether you shall endeavour to know the will of god. 'i shall, therefore, consider only such studies as we are at liberty to pursue or to neglect; and of these i know not how you will make a better choice, than by studying the civil law, as your father advises, and the ancient languages, as you had determined for yourself; at least resolve, while you remain in any settled residence, to spend a certain number of hours every day amongst your books. the dissipation of thought, of which you complain, is nothing more than the vacillation of a mind suspended between different motives, and changing its direction as any motive gains or loses strength. if you can but kindle in your mind any strong desire, if you can but keep predominant any wish for some particular excellence or attainment, the gusts of imagination will break away, without any effect upon your conduct, and commonly without any traces left upon the memory. [page : the frisick language. Ætat .] 'there lurks, perhaps, in every human heart a desire of distinction, which inclines every man first to hope, and then to believe, that nature has given him something peculiar to himself. this vanity makes one mind nurse aversion, and another actuate desires, till they rise by art much above their original state of power; and as affectation, in time, improves to habit, they at last tyrannise over him who at first encouraged them only for show. every desire is a viper in the bosom, who, while he was chill, was harmless; but when warmth gave him strength, exerted it in poison. you know a gentleman, who, when first he set his foot in the gay world, as he prepared himself to whirl in the vortex of pleasure, imagined a total indifference and universal negligence to be the most agreeable concomitants of youth, and the strongest indication of an airy temper and a quick apprehension. vacant to every object, and sensible of every impulse, he thought that all appearance of diligence would deduct something from the reputation of genius; and hoped that he should appear to attain, amidst all the ease of carelessness, and all the tumult of diversion, that knowledge and those accomplishments which mortals of the common fabrick obtain only by mute abstraction and solitary drudgery. he tried this scheme of life awhile, was made weary of it by his sense and his virtue; he then wished to return to his studies; and finding long habits of idleness and pleasure harder to be cured than he expected, still willing to retain his claim to some extraordinary prerogatives, resolved the common consequences of irregularity into an unalterable decree of destiny, and concluded that nature had originally formed him incapable of rational employment. 'let all such fancies, illusive and destructive, be banished henceforward from your thoughts for ever. resolve, and keep your resolution; choose, and pursue your choice. if you spend this day in study, you will find yourself still more able to study to-morrow; not that you are to expect that you shall at once obtain a complete victory. depravity is not very easily overcome. resolution will sometimes relax, and diligence will sometimes be interrupted; but let no accidental surprise or deviation, whether short or long, dispose you to despondency. consider these failings as incident to all mankind. begin again where you left off, and endeavour to avoid the seducements that prevailed over you before. 'this, my dear boswell, is advice which, perhaps, has been often given you, and given you without effect. but this advice, if you will not take from others, you must take from your own reflections, if you purpose to do the duties of the station to which the bounty of providence has called you. 'let me have a long letter from you as soon as you can. i hope you continue your journal, and enrich it with many observations upon the country in which you reside. it will be a favour if you can get me any books in the frisick language, and can enquire how the poor are maintained in the seven provinces. i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, dec. , .' i am sorry to observe, that neither in my own minutes, nor in my letters to johnson, which have been preserved by him, can i find any information how the poor are maintained in the seven provinces. but i shall extract from one of my letters what i learnt concerning the other subject of his curiosity. [page : johnson's visit to langton. a.d. .] 'i have made all possible enquiry with respect to the frisick language, and find that it has been less cultivated than any other of the northern dialects; a certain proof of which is their deficiency of books. of the old frisick there are no remains, except some ancient laws preserved by _schotanus_ in his _beschryvinge van die heerlykheid van friesland_; and his _historia frisica_. i have not yet been able to find these books. professor trotz, who formerly was of the university of vranyken in friesland, and is at present preparing an edition of all the frisick laws, gave me this information. of the modern frisick, or what is spoken by the boors at this day, i have procured a specimen. it is _gisbert japix's rymelerie_, which is the only book that they have. it is amazing, that they have no translation of the bible, no treatises of devotion, nor even any of the ballads and storybooks which are so agreeable to country people. you shall have _japix_ by the first convenient opportunity. i doubt not to pick up _schotanus_. mynheer trotz has promised me his assistance.' : Ætat. .] early in johnson paid a visit to the langton family, at their seat of langton, in lincolnshire, where he passed some time, much to his satisfaction[ ]. his friend bennet langton, it will not be doubted, did every thing in his power to make the place agreeable to so illustrious a guest; and the elder mr. langton and his lady, being fully capable of understanding his value, were not wanting in attention. he, however, told me, that old mr. langton, though a man of considerable learning, had so little allowance to make for his occasional 'laxity of talk[ ],' that because in the course of discussion he sometimes mentioned what might be said in favour of the peculiar tenets of the romish church, he went to his grave believing him to be of that communion[ ]. johnson, during his stay at langton, had the advantage of a good library, and saw several gentlemen of the neighbourhood. i have obtained from mr. langton the following particulars of this period. he was now fully convinced that he could not have been satisfied with a country living[ ]; for, talking of a respectable clergyman in lincolnshire, he observed, 'this man, sir, fills up the duties of his life well. i approve of him, but could not imitate him.' [page : the literary club. Ætat .] to a lady who endeavoured to vindicate herself from blame for neglecting social attention to worthy neighbours, by saying, 'i would go to them if it would do them any good,' he said, 'what good, madam, do you expect to have in your power to do them? it is shewing them respect, and that is doing them good.' so socially accommodating was he, that once when mr. langton and he were driving together in a coach, and mr. langton complained of being sick, he insisted that they should go out and sit on the back of it in the open air, which they did. and being sensible how strange the appearance must be, observed, that a countryman whom they saw in a field, would probably be thinking, 'if these two madmen should come down, what would become of me[ ]?' [page : the literary club. a.d. .] [page : list of the members. Ætat .] soon after his return to london, which was in february, was founded that club which existed long without a name, but at mr. garrick's funeral became distinguished by the title of the literary club[ ]. sir joshua reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer of it[ ], to which johnson acceded, and the original members were, sir joshua reynolds, dr. johnson, mr. edmund burke, dr. nugent[ ], mr. beauclerk, mr. langton, dr. goldsmith, mr. chamier[ ], and sir john hawkins[ ]. they met at the turk's head, in gerrard-street, soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour[ ]. this club has been gradually increased to its present number, thirty-five[ ]. after about ten years, instead of supping weekly, it was resolved to dine together once a fortnight during the meeting of parliament. their original tavern having been converted into a private house, they moved first to prince's in sackville-street, then to le telier's in dover-street, and now meet at parsloe's, st. james's-street [ ]. between the time of its formation, and the time at which this work is passing through the press, (june ,)[ ] the following persons, now dead, were members of it: mr. dunning, (afterwards lord ashburton,) mr. samuel dyer, mr. garrick, dr. shipley bishop of st. asaph, mr. vesey, mr. thomas warton and dr. adam smith. the present members are,--mr. burke, mr. langton, lord charlemont, sir robert chambers, dr. percy bishop of dromore, dr. barnard bishop of killaloe, dr. marlay bishop of clonfert, mr. fox, dr. george fordyce, sir william scott, sir joseph banks, sir charles bunbury, mr. windham of norfolk, mr. sheridan, mr. gibbon, sir william jones, mr. colman, mr. steevens, dr. burney, dr. joseph warton, mr. malone, lord ossory, lord spencer, lord lucan, lord palmerston, lord eliot, lord macartney, mr. richard burke junior, sir william hamilton, dr. warren, mr. courtenay, dr. hinchcliffe bishop of peterborough, the duke of leeds, dr. douglas bishop of salisbury, and the writer of this account. [page : garrick and the literary club. a.d. .] sir john hawkins[ ] represents himself as a '_seceder_' from this society, and assigns as the reason of his '_withdrawing_' himself from it, that its late hours were inconsistent with his domestick arrangements. in this he is not accurate; for the fact was, that he one evening attacked mr. burke, in so rude a manner, that all the company testified their displeasure; and at their next meeting his reception was such, that he never came again[ ]. he is equally inaccurate with respect to mr. garrick, of whom he says, 'he trusted that the least intimation of a desire to come among us, would procure him a ready admission; but in this he was mistaken. johnson consulted me upon it; and when i could find no objection to receiving him, exclaimed,--"he will disturb us by his buffoonery;"--and afterwards so managed matters that he was never formally proposed, and, by consequence, never admitted[ ].' [page : grainger's sugar cane. Ætat .] in justice both to mr. garrick and dr. johnson, i think it necessary to rectify this mis-statement. the truth is, that not very long after the institution of our club, sir joshua reynolds was speaking of it to garrick. 'i like it much, (said he,) i think i shall be of you.' when sir joshua mentioned this to dr. johnson, he was much displeased with the actor's conceit. '_he'll be of us_, (said johnson) how does he know we will _permit_ him? the first duke in england has no right to hold such language.' however, when garrick was regularly proposed some time afterwards, johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our meetings to the time of his death. mrs. piozzi has also given a similar misrepresentation of johnson's treatment of garrick in this particular, as if he had used these contemptuous expressions: 'if garrick does apply, i'll black-ball him.[ ] surely, one ought to sit in a society like ours, 'unelbow'd by a gamester, pimp, or player[ ].' i am happy to be enabled by such unquestionable authority as that of sir joshua reynolds, as well as from my own knowledge, to vindicate at once the heart of johnson and the social merit of garrick[ ]. [page : johnson's self-accusations. a.d. .] in this year, except what he may have done in revising _shakspeare_, we do not find that he laboured much in literature. he wrote a review of grainger's _sugar cane, a poem_, in the _london chronicle_. he told me, that dr. percy wrote the greatest part of this review; but, i imagine, he did not recollect it distinctly, for it appears to be mostly, if not altogether, his own[ ]. he also wrote in _the critical review_, an account of goldsmith's excellent poem, _the traveller_[ ]. the ease and independence to which he had at last attained by royal munificence, increased his natural indolence. in his _meditations_ he thus accuses himself:-- 'good friday, april , .--i have made no reformation; i have lived totally useless, more sensual in thought, and more addicted to wine and meat[ ].' and next morning he thus feelingly complains:-- 'my indolence, since my last reception of the sacrament, has sunk into grosser sluggishness, and my dissipation spread into wilder negligence. my thoughts have been clouded with sensuality; and, except that from the beginning of this year i have, in some measure, forborne excess of strong drink, my appetites have predominated over my reason. a kind of strange oblivion has overspread me, so that i know not what has become of the last year; and perceive that incidents and intelligence pass over me, without leaving any impression.' he then solemnly says, 'this is not the life to which heaven is promised[ ];' and he earnestly resolves an amendment. [page : a severe attack of hypochondria. Ætat .] it was his custom to observe certain days with a pious abstraction; viz. new-year's-day, the day of his wife's death, good friday, easter-day, and his own birth-day. he this year says[ ]:--'i have now spent fifty-five years in resolving; having, from the earliest time almost that i can remember, been forming schemes of a better life. i have done nothing. the need of doing, therefore, is pressing, since the time of doing is short. god, grant me to resolve aright, and to keep my resolutions, for jesus christ's sake. amen[ ].' such a tenderness of conscience, such a fervent desire of improvement, will rarely be found. it is, surely, not decent in those who are hardened in indifference to spiritual improvement, to treat this pious anxiety of johnson with contempt. about this time he was afflicted with a very severe return of the hypochondriack disorder, which was ever lurking about him. he was so ill, as, notwithstanding his remarkable love of company, to be entirely averse to society, the most fatal symptom of that malady. dr. adams told me, that as an old friend he was admitted to visit him, and that he found him in a deplorable state, sighing, groaning, talking to himself, and restlessly walking from room to room. he then used this emphatical expression of the misery which he felt: 'i would consent to have a limb amputated to recover my spirits[ ].' [page : johnson's particularities. a.d. .] talking to himself was, indeed, one of his singularities ever since i knew him. i was certain that he was frequently uttering pious ejaculations; for fragments of the lord's prayer have been distinctly overheard[ ]. his friend mr. thomas davies, of whom churchill says, 'that davies hath a very pretty wife[ ],' when dr. johnson muttered 'lead us not into temptation,' used with waggish and gallant humour to whisper mrs. davies, 'you, my dear, are the cause of this.' he had another particularity, of which none of his friends ever ventured to ask an explanation[ ]. it appeared to me some superstitious habit, which he had contracted early, and from which he had never called upon his reason to disentangle him. this was his anxious care to go out or in at a door or passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (i am not certain which,) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came close to the door or passage. thus i conjecture: for i have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earnestness; and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, i have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his companion[ ]. a strange instance of something of this nature, even when on horseback, happened when he was in the isle of sky[ ]. sir joshua reynolds has observed him to go a good way about, rather than cross a particular alley in leicester-fields; but this sir joshua imputed to his having had some disagreeable recollection associated with it. [page : illness of joshua reynolds. a.d. .] that the most minute singularities which belonged to him, and made very observable parts of his appearance and manner, may not be omitted, it is requisite to mention, that while talking or even musing as he sat in his chair, he commonly held his head to one side towards his right shoulder, and shook it in a tremulous manner, moving his body backwards and forwards, and rubbing his left knee in the same direction, with the palm of his hand. in the intervals of articulating he made various sounds with his mouth, sometimes as if ruminating, or what is called chewing the cud, sometimes giving a half whistle, some-times making his tongue play backwards from the roof of his mouth, as if clucking like a hen, and sometimes protruding it against his upper gums in front, as if pronouncing quickly under his breath, _too, too, too_: all this accompanied sometimes with a thoughtful look, but more frequently with a smile. generally when he had concluded a period, in the course of a dispute, by which time he was a good deal exhausted by violence and vociferation, he used to blow out his breath like a whale. this i supposed was a relief to his lungs; and seemed in him to be a contemptuous mode of expression, as if he had made the arguments of his opponent fly like chaff before the wind. i am fully aware how very obvious an occasion i here give for the sneering jocularity of such as have no relish of an exact likeness; which to render complete, he who draws it must not disdain the slightest strokes. but if witlings should be inclined to attack this account, let them have the candour to quote what i have offered in my defence. he was for some time in the summer at easton maudit, northamptonshire, on a visit to the reverend dr. percy, now bishop of dromore. whatever dissatisfaction he felt at what he considered as a slow progress in intellectual improvement, we find that his heart was tender, and his affections warm, as appears from the following very kind letter: 'to joshua reynolds, esq., in leicester-fields, london. 'dear sir, 'i did not hear of your sickness till i heard likewise of your recovery, and therefore escaped that part of your pain, which every man must feel, to whom you are known as you are known to me. 'having had no particular account of your disorder, i know not in what state it has left you. if the amusement of my company can exhilarate the languor of a slow recovery, i will not delay a day to come to you; for i know not how i can so effectually promote my own pleasure as by pleasing you, or my own interest as by preserving you, in whom, if i should lose you, i should lose almost the only man whom i call a friend. 'pray let me hear of you from yourself, or from dear miss reynolds[ ]. make my compliments to mr. mudge. i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'at the rev. mr. percy's, at easton maudit, northamptonshire, (by castle ashby,) aug. , .' [page : johnson at cambridge. Ætat .] : Ætat. .--early in the year he paid a short visit to the university of cambridge, with his friend mr. beauclerk. there is a lively picturesque account of his behaviour on this visit, in _the gentleman's magazine_ for march , being an extract of a letter from the late dr. john sharp. the two following sentences are very characteristical:-- 'he drank his large potations of tea with me, interrupted by many an indignant contradiction, and many a noble sentiment,'--'several persons got into his company the last evening at trinity, where, about twelve, he began to be very great; stripped poor mrs. macaulay to the very skin, then gave her for his toast, and drank her in two bumpers[ ].' the strictness of his self-examination and scrupulous christian humility appear in his pious meditation on easter-day this year. 'i purpose again to partake of the blessed sacrament; yet when i consider how vainly i have hitherto resolved at this annual commemoration of my saviour's death, to regulate my life by his laws, i am almost afraid to renew my resolutions.' the concluding words are very remarkable, and shew that he laboured under a severe depression of spirits. 'since the last easter i have reformed no evil habit, my time has been unprofitably spent, and seems as a dream that has left nothing behind. _my memory grows confused, and i know not how the days pass over me_. good lord deliver me[ ]!' [page : trinity college, dublin. a.d. .] no man was more gratefully sensible of any kindness done to him than johnson. there is a little circumstance in his diary this year, which shews him in a very amiable light. 'july .--i paid mr. simpson ten guineas, which he had formerly lent me in my necessity and for which tetty expressed her gratitude.' 'july .--i lent mr. simpson ten guineas more[ ].' here he had a pleasing opportunity of doing the same kindness to an old friend, which he had formerly received from him. indeed his liberality as to money was very remarkable. the next article in his diary is, 'july .--i received seventy-five pounds[ ]. lent mr. davis twenty-five.' trinity college, dublin, at this time surprised johnson with a spontaneous compliment of the highest academical honours, by creating him doctor of laws[ ]. the diploma, which is in my possession, is as follows: [page : johnson created doctor of laws. Ætat .] '_omnibus ad quos præsentes literae pervenerint, salutem. nos præpositus et socii seniores collegii sacrosanctæ et individuæ trinitatis reginæ elizabethæ juxta dublin, testamur_, samueli johnson, _armigero[ ], ob egregiam scriptorum elegantiam et utilitatem, gratiam concessam fuisse pro gradu doctoratus in utroque jure, octavo die julii, anno domini millesimo septingentesimo sexagesimo-quinto. in cujus rei testimonium singulorum manus et sigillum quo in hisce utimur apposuimus; vicesimo tertio die julii, anno domini millesimo septingentesimo sexagesimo-quinto. 'gul. clement. fran. andrews. r. murray. 'tho. wilson. præps. robtus law. 'tho. leland. mich. kearney.' this unsolicited mark of distinction, conferred on so great a literary character, did much honour to the judgement and liberal spirit of that learned body. johnson acknowledged the favour in a letter to dr. leland, one of their number; but i have not been able to obtain a copy of it. [ ] he appears this year to have been seized with a temporary fit of ambition, for he had thoughts both of studying law and of engaging in politics. his 'prayer before the study of law' is truly admirable:-- 'sept. , . 'almighty god, the giver of wisdom, without whose help resolutions are vain, without whose blessing study is ineffectual; enable me, if it be thy will, to attain such knowledge as may qualify me to direct the doubtful, and instruct the ignorant; to prevent wrongs and terminate contentions; and grant that i may use that knowledge which i shall attain, to thy glory and my own salvation, for jesus christ's sake. amen[ ].' [page : johnson's introduction to the thrales. a.d. .] his prayer in the view of becoming a politician is entitled, 'engaging in politicks with h----n,' no doubt his friend, the right honourable william gerard hamilton[ ], for whom, during a long acquaintance, he had a great esteem, and to whose conversation he once paid this high compliment: 'i am very unwilling to be left alone, sir, and therefore i go with my company down the first pair of stairs, in some hopes that they may, perhaps, return again. i go with you, sir, as far as the street-door.' in what particular department he intended to engage does not appear, nor can mr. hamilton explain[ ]. his prayer is in general terms:-- 'enlighten my understanding with knowledge of right, and govern my will by thy laws, that no deceit may mislead me, nor temptation corrupt me; that i may always endeavour to do good, and hinder evil[ ].' there is nothing upon the subject in his diary. [page : old thrale. Ætat .] this year[ ] was distinguished by his being introduced into the family of mr. thrale, one of the most eminent brewers in england, and member of parliament for the borough of southwark. foreigners are not a little amazed when they hear of brewers, distillers, and men in similar departments of trade, held forth as persons of considerable consequence. in this great commercial country it is natural that a situation which produces much wealth should be considered as very respectable; and, no doubt, honest industry is entitled to esteem. but, perhaps, the too rapid advance of men of low extraction tends to lessen the value of that distinction by birth and gentility, which has ever been found beneficial to the grand scheme of subordination. johnson used to give this account of the rise of mr. thrale's father: 'he worked at six shillings a week for twenty years in the great brewery, which afterwards was his own. the proprietor of it had an only daughter, who was married to a nobleman. it was not fit that a peer should continue the business. on the old man's death, therefore, the brewery was to be sold. to find a purchaser for so large a property was a difficult matter; and, after some time, it was suggested, that it would be adviseable to treat with thrale, a sensible, active, honest man, who had been employed in the house, and to transfer the whole to him for thirty thousand pounds, security being taken upon the property. this was accordingly settled. in eleven years thrale paid the purchase-money[ ]. he acquired a large fortune, and lived to be member of parliament for southwark. but what was most remarkable was the liberality with which he used his riches. he gave his son and daughters the best education. the esteem which his good conduct procured him from the nobleman who had married his master's daughter, made him be treated with much attention; and his son, both at school and at the university of oxford, associated with young men of the first rank. his allowance from his father, after he left college, was splendid; no less than a thousand a year. this, in a man who had risen as old thrale did, was a very extraordinary instance of generosity. he used to say, 'if this young dog does not find so much after i am gone as he expects, let him remember that he has had a great deal in my own time.' the son, though in affluent circumstances, had good sense enough to carry on his father's trade, which was of such extent, that i remember he once told me, he would not quit it for an annuity of ten thousand a year; 'not (said he,) that i get ten thousand a year by it, but it is an estate to a family.' having left daughters only, the property was sold for the immense sum of one hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds[ ]; a magnificent proof of what may be done by fair trade in no long period of time. [page : a new system of gentility. a.d. .] there may be some who think that a new system of gentility[ ] might be established, upon principles totally different from what have hitherto prevailed. our present heraldry, it may be said, is suited to the barbarous times in which it had its origin. it is chiefly founded upon ferocious merit, upon military excellence. why, in civilised times, we may be asked, should there not be rank and honours, upon principles, which, independent of long custom, are certainly not less worthy, and which, when once allowed to be connected with elevation and precedency, would obtain the same dignity in our imagination? why should not the knowledge, the skill, the expertness, the assiduity, and the spirited hazards of trade and commerce, when crowned with success, be entitled to give those flattering distinctions by which mankind are so universally captivated? such are the specious, but false arguments for a proposition which always will find numerous advocates, in a nation where men are every day starting up from obscurity to wealth. to refute them is needless. the general sense of mankind cries out, with irresistible force, 'un gentilhomme est toujours gentilhomme'[ ]. [page : a new home for johnson. Ætat .] mr. thrale had married miss hesther lynch salusbury, of good welsh extraction[ ], a lady of lively talents, improved by education. that johnson's introduction into mr. thrale's family, which contributed so much to the happiness of his life, was owing to her desire for his conversation, is very probable and a general supposition: but it is not the truth. mr. murphy, who was intimate with mr. thrale[ ], having spoken very highly of dr. johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted[ ]. this being mentioned to johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner at thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception, both by mr. and mrs. thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to their house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house in southwark, and in their villa at streatham[ ]. [page : mr. thrale. a.d. .] johnson had a very sincere esteem for mr. thrale, as a man of excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in trade, of a sound understanding, and of manners such as presented the character of a plain independent english 'squire[ ]. as this family will frequently be mentioned in the course of the following pages, and as a false notion has prevailed that mr. thrale was inferiour, and in some degree insignificant, compared with mrs. thrale, it may be proper to give a true state of the case from the authority of johnson himself in his own words. [page : mrs. thrale. Ætat .] 'i know no man, (said he,) who is more master of his wife and family than thrale. if he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. it is a great mistake to suppose that she is above him in literary attainments[ ]. she is more flippant; but he has ten times her learning: he is a regular scholar; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower forms.' my readers may naturally wish for some representation of the figures of this couple. mr. thrale was tall, well proportioned, and stately. as for madam, or my mistress[ ], by which epithets johnson used to mention mrs. thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk[ ]. she has herself given us a lively view of the idea which johnson had of her person, on her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown; 'you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in every way. what! have not all insects gay colours[ ]?' mr. thrale gave his wife a liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and in the mode of entertaining them. he understood and valued johnson, without remission, from their first acquaintance to the day of his death. mrs. thrale was enchanted with johnson's conversation, for its own sake, and had also a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with the attention of so celebrated a man. [page : johnson's shakspeare published. a.d. .] nothing could be more fortunate for johnson than this connection[ ]. he had at mr. thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened[ ] by association with an agreeable and well-ordered family. he was treated with the utmost respect, and even affection. the vivacity of mrs. thrale's literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even when they were alone. but this was not often the case; for he found here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoyment: the society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way, who were assembled in numerous companies[ ], called forth his wonderful powers, and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible. [page : dr. kenrick. Ætat .] in the october of this year[ ] he at length gave to the world his edition of _shakspeare_[ ], which, if it had no other merit but that of producing his preface[ ], in which the excellencies and defects of that immortal bard are displayed with a masterly hand, the nation would have had no reason to complain. a blind indiscriminate admiration of shakspeare had exposed the british nation to the ridicule of foreigners[ ]. johnson, by candidly admitting the faults of his poet, had the more credit in bestowing on him deserved and indisputable praise; and doubtless none of all his panegyrists have done him half so much honour. their praise was, like that of a counsel, upon his own side of the cause: johnson's was like the grave, well-considered, and impartial opinion of the judge, which falls from his lips with weight, and is received with reverence. what he did as a commentator has no small share of merit, though his researches were not so ample, and his investigations so acute as they might have been, which we now certainly know from the labours of other able and ingenious criticks who have followed him[ ]. he has enriched his edition with a concise account of each play, and of its characteristick excellence. many of his notes have illustrated obscurities in the text, and placed passages eminent for beauty in a more conspicuous light; and he has in general exhibited such a mode of annotation, as may be beneficial to all subsequent editors[ ]. [page : johnson's attack on voltaire. a.d. .] his _shakespeare_ was virulently attacked by mr. william kenrick, who obtained the degree of ll.d. from a scotch university, and wrote for the booksellers in a great variety of branches. though he certainly was not without considerable merit, he wrote with so little regard to decency and principles, and decorum[ ], and in so hasty a manner, that his reputation was neither extensive nor lasting. i remember one evening, when some of his works were mentioned, dr. goldsmith said, he had never heard of them; upon which dr. johnson observed, 'sir, he is one of the many who have made themselves _publick_, without making themselves _known_[ ].' a young student of oxford, of the name of barclay, wrote an answer to kenrick's review of johnson's _shakspeare_. johnson was at first angry that kenrick's attack should have the credit of an answer. but afterwards, considering the young man's good intention, he kindly noticed him, and probably would have done more, had not the young man died[ ]. [page : voltaire's reply. Ætat .] in his preface to _shakspeare_, johnson treated voltaire very contemptuously, observing, upon some of his remarks, 'these are the petty criticisms of petty wits[ ].' voltaire, in revenge, made an attack upon johnson, in one of his numerous literary sallies, which i remember to have read; but there being no general index to his voluminous works, have searched in vain, and therefore cannot quote it[ ]. voltaire was an antagonist with whom i thought johnson should not disdain to contend. i pressed him to answer. he said, he perhaps might; but he never did. mr. burney having occasion to write to johnson for some receipts for subscriptions to his shakspeare, which johnson had omitted to deliver when the money was paid[ ], he availed himself of that opportunity of thanking johnson for the great pleasure which he had received from the perusal of his preface to _shakspeare_; which, although it excited much clamour against him at first, is now justly ranked among the most excellent of his writings. to this letter johnson returned the following answer:-- [page : resolutions at church.] 'to charles burney esq. in poland-street. 'sir, 'i am sorry that your kindness to me has brought upon you so much trouble, though you have taken care to abate that sorrow, by the pleasure which i receive from your approbation. i defend my criticism in the same manner with you. we must confess the faults of our favourite, to gain credit to our praise of his excellencies. he that claims, either in himself or for another, the honours of perfection, will surely injure the reputation which he designs to assist. 'be pleased to make my compliments to your family. 'i am, sir, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'oct. , .[ ]' from one of his journals i transcribed what follows: 'at church, oct. -- . 'to avoid all singularity; _bonaventura_[ ]. 'to come in before service, and compose my mind by meditation, or by reading some portions of scriptures. _tetty_. 'if i can hear the sermon, to attend it, unless attention be more troublesome than useful. 'to consider the act of prayer as a reposal of myself upon god, and a resignation of 'all into his holy hand.' appendix a johnson's debates in parliament. (_pages_ _and_ .) the publication of the 'debates' in the _gentleman's magazine_ began in july . the names of the speakers were not printed in full; sir robert walpole was disguised--if a disguise it can be called--as sir r----t w----le, and mr. pelham as mr. p--lh--m. otherwise the report was open and avowed. during the first few years, however, it often happened that no attempt was made to preserve the individuality of the members. thus in a debate on the number of seamen (_gent. mag_. v. ), the speeches of the 'eight chief speakers' were so combined as to form but three. first come 'the arguments made use of for , men;' next, 'an answer to the following effect;' and lastly, 'a reply that was in substance as follows.' each of these three speeches is in the first person, though each is formed of the arguments of two members at least, perhaps of many. in the report of a two days' debate in , in which there were fourteen chief speakers, the substance of thirteen of the speeches was given in three (_ib_. vii. , ). in july (_ib_. vi. ) we find the beginning of a great change. 'to satisfy the impatience of his readers,' the publisher promises 'to give them occasionally some entire speeches.' he prints one which likely enough had been sent to him by the member who had spoken it, and adds that he shall be 'grateful for any authentic intelligence in matters of such importance and _tenderness_ as the speeches in parliament' (_ib_. p. ). cave, in his examination before the house of lords on april , , on a charge of having printed in the _gentleman's magazine_ an account of the trial of lord lovat, owned that 'he had had speeches sent him by the members themselves, and had had assistance from some members who have taken notes of other members' speeches' (_parl. hist_. xiv. ). it was chiefly in the numbers of the _magazine_ for the latter half of each year that the publication took place. the parliamentary recess was the busy time for reporters and printers. it was commonly believed that the resolution on the journals of the house of commons against publishing any of its proceedings was only in force while parliament was sitting. but on april , , it was unanimously resolved 'that it is an high indignity to, and a notorious breach of the privilege of this house to give any account of the debates, as well during the recess as the sitting of parliament' (_parl. hist_. x. ). it was admitted that this privilege expired at the end of every parliament. when the dissolution had come every one might publish what he pleased. with the house of lords it was far otherwise, for 'it is a court of record, and as such its rights and privileges never die. it may punish a printer for printing any part of its proceedings for thirty or forty years back' (_ib_. p. ). mr. winnington, when speaking to this resolution of april , said that if they did not put a speedy stop to this practice of reporting 'they will have every word that is spoken here by _gentlemen_ misrepresented by _fellows_ who thrust themselves into our gallery' (_ib_. p. ). walpole complained 'that he had been made to speak the very reverse of what he meant. he had read debates wherein all the wit, the learning, and the argument had been thrown into one side, and on the other nothing but what was low, mean, and ridiculous' (_ib_. p. ). later on, johnson in his reports 'saved appearances tolerably well; but took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it' (murphy's _johnson_, p. ). it was but a few days after he became a contributor to the _magazine_ that this resolution was passed. parliament rose on may , and in the june number the reports of the debates of the senate of lilliput began. to his fertile mind was very likely due this humorous expedient by which the resolution of the house was mocked. that he wrote the introduction in which is narrated the voyage of captain gulliver's grandson to lilliputia can scarcely be doubted. it bears all the marks of his early style. the lords become hurgoes, and the commons clinabs, walpole becomes walelop, pulteney pulnub, and pitt ptit; otherwise the report is much as it had been. at the end of the volume for was given a key to all the names. the _london magazine_ had boldly taken the lead. in the may number, which was published at the close of the month, and therefore after parliament had risen, began the report of the proceedings and debates of a political and learned club of young noblemen and gentlemen, who hoped one day to enter parliament, and who therefore, the better to qualify themselves for their high position, only debated questions that were there discussed. to the speakers were given the names of the ancient greeks and romans. thus we find the hon. marcus cato and the right hon. m. tullius cicero. by the key that was published in cicero was seen to be walpole, and cato, pulteney. what risks the publishers and writers ran was very soon shown. in december the ministers proposed to lay an embargo on various articles of food. as the members entered the house a printed paper was handed to each, entitled _considerations upon the embargo_. adam smith had just gone up as a young student to the university of oxford. there are 'considerations' suggested in this paper which the great authority of the author of the _wealth of nations_ has not yet made pass current as truths. the paper contained, moreover, charges of jobbery against 'great men,' though no one was named. it was at once voted a malicious and scandalous libel, and the author, william cooley, a scrivener, was committed to newgate. with him was sent the printer of the _daily post_, in which part of the _considerations_ had been published. after seven weeks' imprisonment in the depth of winter in that miserable den, 'without sufficient sustenance to support life,' cooley was discharged on paying his fees. he was in knowledge more than a hundred years before his time, and had been made to suffer accordingly. the printer would have been discharged also, but the fees were more than he could pay. two months later he petitioned for mercy. the fees by that time were £ . his petition was not received, and he was kept in prison till the close of the session (_parl. hist_. xi. - ). such were the risks run by cave and johnson and their fellow-workers. that no prosecution followed was due perhaps to that dread of ridicule which has often tempered the severity of the law. 'the hurgolen branard, who in the former session was pretor of mildendo,' might well have been unwilling to prove that he was sir john barnard, late lord mayor of london. johnson, it should seem, revised some of the earliest _debates_. in a letter to cave which cannot have been written later than september , he mentions the alterations that he had made (_ante_, p. ). the more they were written by him, the less authentic did they become, for he was not one of those 'fellows who thrust themselves into the gallery of the house.' his employer, cave, if we can trust his own evidence, had been in the habit of going there and taking notes with a pencil (_parl. hist_. xiv. ). but johnson, hawkins says (_life_, p. ), 'never was within the walls of either house.' according to murphy (_life_, p. ), he had been inside the house of commons once. be this as it may, in the end the _debates_ were composed by him alone (_ante_, p. ). from that time they must no longer be looked upon as authentic records, in spite of the assertions of the editor of the _parl. hist_. (xi. preface). johnson told boswell (_ante_, p. ) 'that sometimes he had nothing more communicated to him than the names of the several speakers, and the part which they had taken in the debate;' sometimes 'he had scanty notes furnished by persons employed to attend in both houses of parliament.' often, his debates were written 'from no materials at all--the mere coinage of his own imagination' (_post_, under dec. , ). 'he never wrote any part of his works with equal velocity. three columns of the _magazine_ in an hour was no uncommon effort, which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity' (_ib_.). according to hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'his practice was to shut himself up in a room assigned to him at st. john's gate, to which he would not suffer any one to approach, except the compositor or cave's boy for matter, which, as fast as he composed it, he tumbled out at the door.' from murphy we get the following curious story:-- 'that johnson was the author of the debates during that period [nov, to feb. ] was not generally known; but the secret transpired several years afterwards, and was avowed by himself on the following occasion:--mr. wedderburne (now lord loughborough), dr. johnson, dr. francis (the translator of _horace_), the present writer, and others dined with the late mr. foote. an important debate towards the end of sir robert walpole's administration being mentioned, dr. francis observed, "that mr. pitt's speech on that occasion was the best he had ever read." he added, "that he had employed eight years of his life in the study of demosthenes, and finished a translation of that celebrated orator, with all the decorations of style and language within the reach of his capacity; but he had met with nothing equal to the speech above mentioned." many of the company remembered the debate; and some passages were cited with the approbation and applause of all present. during the ardour of conversation, johnson remained silent. as soon as the warmth of praise subsided, he opened with these words:--"that speech i wrote in a garret in exeter street." the company was struck with astonishment. after staring at each other in silent amaze, dr. francis asked how that speech could be written by him? "sir," said johnson, "i wrote it in exeter street. i never had been in the gallery of the house of commons but once. cave had interest with the door-keepers. he, and the persons employed under him, gained admittance: they brought away the subject of discussion, the names of the speakers, the side they took, and the order in which they rose, together with notes of the arguments advanced in the course of the debate. the whole was afterwards communicated to me, and i composed the speeches in the form which they now have in the parliamentary debates." to this discovery dr. francis made answer:--"then, sir, you have exceeded demosthenes himself, for to say that you have exceeded francis's _demosthenes_, would be saying nothing." the rest of the company bestowed lavish encomiums on johnson: one, in particular, praised his impartiality; observing, that he dealt out reason and eloquence with an equal hand to both parties. "that is not quite true," said johnson; "i saved appearances tolerably well, but i took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it."' murphy's _life of johnson_, p. . murphy, we must not forget, wrote from memory, for there is no reason to think that he kept notes. that his memory cannot altogether be trusted has been shown by boswell (_ante_, p. , note ). this dinner with foote must have taken place at least nineteen years before this account was published, for so many years had dr. francis been dead. at the time when johnson was living in exeter-street he was not engaged on the magazine. nevertheless the main facts may be true enough. johnson himself told boswell (_post_, may , ) that in lord chesterfield's _miscellaneous works_ (ii. ) there were two speeches ascribed to chesterfield which he had himself entirely written. horace walpole (_letters_, i. ) complained that the published report of his own first speech 'did not contain one sentence of the true one.' johnson, in his preface to the _literary magazine_ of , seems to confess what he had done, unless, indeed, he was altogether making himself the mere mouth-piece of the publisher. he says:--'we shall not attempt to give any regular series of debates, or to amuse our readers with senatorial rhetorick. the speeches inserted in other papers have been long known to be fictitious, and produced sometimes by men who never heard the debate, nor had any authentick information. we have no design to impose thus grossly on our readers.' (_works_, v. .) the secret that johnson wrote these _debates_ was indeed well kept. he seems to be aimed at in a question that was put to cave in his examination before the house of lords in . 'being asked "if he ever had any person whom he kept in pay to make speeches for him," he said, "he never had."' (_parl. hist_. xiv. .) herein he lied in order, no doubt, to screen johnson. forty-four years later horace walpole wrote (_letters_, ix. ), 'i never knew johnson wrote the speeches in the _gentleman's magazine_ till he died.' johnson told boswell 'that as soon as he found that they were thought genuine he determined that he would write no more of them, "for he would not be accessory to the propagation of falsehood."' (_ante_, p. .) one of his _debates_ was translated into french, german, and spanish (_gent. mag_. xiii. ), and, no doubt, was accepted abroad as authentic. when he learnt this his conscience might well have received a shock. that it did receive a shock seems almost capable of proof. it was in the number of the _magazine_ for february, --at the beginning of march, that is to say--that the fact of these foreign translations was made known. the last debate that johnson wrote was for the nd day of february in that year. in , , and , he had worked steadily at his _debates_. the beginning of found him no less busy. his task suddenly came to an end. among foreign nations his speeches were read as the very words of english statesmen. to the propagation of such a falsehood as this he would no longer be accessory. fifteen years later smollett quoted them as if they were genuine (_history of england_, iii. ). here, however, johnson's conscience was void of offence; for 'he had cautioned him not to rely on them, for that they were not authentic.' (hawkins, _life_, p. .) that they should generally have passed current shews how unacquainted people at that time were with real debating. even if we had not johnson's own statement, both from external and internal evidence we could have known that they were for the most part 'the mere coinage of his imagination.' they do not read like speeches that had ever been spoken. 'none of them,' mr. flood said, 'were at all like real debates' (_post_, under march , ). they are commonly formed of general statements which suit any one speaker just as well as any other. the scantier were the notes that were given him by those who had heard the debate, the more he had to draw on his imagination. but his was an imagination which supplied him with what was general much more readily than with what was particular. had de foe been the composer he would have scattered over each speech the most ingenious and probable matters of detail, but de foe and johnson were wide as the poles asunder. neither had johnson any dramatic power. his parliamentary speakers have scarcely more variety than the characters in _irene_. unless he had been a constant frequenter of the galleries of the two houses, he could not have acquired any knowledge of the style and the peculiarities of the different members. nay, even of their modes of thinking and their sentiments he could have gained but the most general notions. of debating he knew nothing. it was the set speeches in _livy_ and the old historians that he took as his models. in his orations there is very little of 'the tart reply;' there is, indeed, scarcely any examination of an adversary's arguments. so general are the speeches that the order in which they are given might very often without inconvenience be changed. they are like a series of leading articles on both sides of the question, but all written by one man. johnson is constantly shifting his character, and, like falstaff and the prince, playing first his own part and then his opponent's. it is wonderful how well he preserves his impartiality, though he does 'take care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it.' he not only took the greatest liberties in his reports, but he often took them openly. thus an army bill was debated in committee on dec. , , and again the following day on the report in the full house. 'as in these two debates,' he writes, 'the arguments were the same, mr. gulliver has thrown them into one to prevent unnecessary repetitions.' (_gent. mag_. dec. , p. .) in each house during the winter of - there was a debate on taking the hanoverian troops into pay. the debate in the lords was spread over five numbers of the _magazine_ in the following summer and autumn. it was not till the spring of that the turn of the commons came, and then they were treated somewhat scurvily. 'this debate,' says the reporter, who was johnson, 'we thought it necessary to contract by the omission of those arguments which were fully discussed in the house of hurgoes, and of those speakers who produced them, lest we should disgust our readers by tedious repetitions.' (_ib_. xiv. .) many of these debates have been reported somewhat briefly by bishop (afterwards archbishop) seeker. to follow his account requires an accurate knowledge of the times, whereas johnson's rhetorick for the most part is easily understood even by one very ignorant of the history of the first two georges. much of it might have been spoken on almost any occasion, for or against almost any minister. it is true that we here and there find such a correspondence between the two reports as shews that johnson, as he has himself told us, was at times furnished with some information. but, on the other hand, we can no less clearly see that he was often drawing solely on his imagination. frequently there is but the slightest agreement between the reports given by the two men of the same speeches. of this a good instance is afforded by lord carteret's speech of feb. , . according to johnson 'the hurgo quadrert began in this manner':-- 'as the motion which i am about to make is of the highest importance and of the most extensive consequences; as it cannot but meet with all the opposition which the prejudices of some and the interest of others can raise against it; as it must have the whole force of ministerial influence to encounter without any assistance but from justice and reason, i hope to be excused by your lordships for spending some time in endeavouring to shew that it wants no other support; that it is not founded upon doubtful suspicions but upon uncontestable facts,' and so on for eight more lines. (_gent. mag_. xi. ). the bishop's note begins as follows:-- 'carteret. i am glad to see the house so full. the honour of the nation is at stake. and the oldest man hath not known such circumstances as we are in. when storms rise you must see what pilots you have, and take methods to make the nation easy. i shall ( ) go through the foreign transactions of several years; ( ) the domestic; ( ) prove that what i am about to propose is a parliamentary method.' (_parl. hist_. xi. .) still more striking is the difference in the two reports of a speech by lord talbot on may , . according to the _gent. mag_. xii. , 'the hurgo toblat spoke to this effect':-- 'so high is my veneration for this great assembly that it is never without the utmost efforts of resolution that i can prevail upon myself to give my sentiments upon any question that is the subject of debate, however strong may be my conviction, or however ardent my zeal.' the bishop makes him say:-- 'i rise up only to give time to others to consider how they will carry on the debate.' (_parl. hist_. xii. .) on feb. , , the same lord, being called to order for saying that there were lords who were influenced by a place, exclaimed, according to the bishop, '"by the eternal g--d, i will defend my cause everywhere." but lords calling to order, he recollected himself and made an excuse.' (_parl. hist_. xi. ). in the _gent. mag_. xi. l , 'the hurgo toblat resumed:--"my lords, whether anything has escaped from me that deserves such severe animadversions your lordships must decide."' once at least in johnson's reports a speech is given to the wrong member. in the debate on the gin bill on feb. , (_gent. mag_. xiii. ), though the bishop's notes show that he did not speak, yet a long speech is put into his mouth. it was the earl of sandwich who had spoken at this turn of the debate. the editor of the _parl. hist_. (xii. ), without even notifying the change, coolly transfers the speech from the 'decent' seeker[ ], who was afterwards primate, to the grossly licentious earl. a transference such as this is, however, but of little moment. for the most part the speeches would be scarcely less lifelike, if all on one side were assigned to some nameless whig, and all on the other side to some nameless tory. it is nevertheless true that here and there are to be found passages which no doubt really fell from the speaker in whose mouth they are put. they mention some fact or contain some allusion which could not otherwise have been known by johnson. even if we had not cave's word for it, we might have inferred that now and then a member was himself his own reporter. thus in the _gent. mag_. for february (p. ) we find a speech by sir john st. aubyn that had appeared eight months earlier in the very same words in the _london magazine_. that johnson copied a rival publication is most unlikely--impossible, i might say. st. aubyn, i conjecture, sent a copy of his speech to both editors. in the _gent. mag_. for april (p. ), a speech by lord percival on dec. , , is reported apparently at full length. the debate itself was not published till the spring of , when the reader is referred for this speech to the back number in which it had already been inserted. (_ib_. xiv. ). the _london magazine_ generally gave the earlier report; it was, however, twitted by its rival with its inaccuracy. in one debate, it was said, 'it had introduced instead of twenty speakers but six, and those in a very confused manner. it had attributed to caecilius words remembered by the whole audience to be spoken by m. agrippa.' (_gent. mag_. xii. ). the report of the debate of feb. , , in the _london magazine_ fills more than twenty-two columns of the _parl. hist_. (xi. ) with a speech by lord bathurst. that he did speak is shewn by secker (_ib_. p. ). no mention of him is made, however, in the report in the _gent. mag_. (xi. ). but, on the other hand, it reports eleven speakers, while the _london magazine_ gives but five. secker shows that there were nineteen. though the _london magazine_ was generally earlier in publishing the debates, it does not therefore follow that johnson had seen their reports when he wrote his. his may have been kept back by cave's timidity for some months even after they had been set up in type. in the staleness of the debate there was some safeguard against a parliamentary prosecution. mr. croker maintains (croker's _boswell_, p. ) that johnson wrote the _debates_ from the time (june ) that they assumed the _lilliputian_ title till . in this he is certainly wrong. even if we had not johnson's own statement, from the style of the earlier _debates_ we could have seen that they were not written by him. no doubt we come across numerous traces of his work; but this we should have expected. boswell tells us that guthrie's reports were sent to johnson for revision (_ante_, p. ). nay, even a whole speech now and then may be from his hand. it is very likely that he wrote, for instance, the _debate_ on buttons and button-holes (_gent. mag_. viii. ), and the _debate_ on the registration of seamen (_ib_. xi.). but it is absurd to attribute to him passages such as the following, which in certain numbers are plentiful enough long after june . 'there never was any measure pursued more consistent with, and more consequential of, the sense of this house' (_ib_. ix. ). 'it gave us a handle of making such reprisals upon the iberians as this crown found the sweets of' (_ib_. x. ). 'that was the only expression that the least shadow of fault was found with' (ib. xi. ). 'johnson told me himself,' says boswell (_ante_, p. ), 'that he was the sole composer of the _debates_ for those three years only ( - - ). he was not, however, precisely exact in his statement, which he mentioned from hasty recollection; for it is sufficiently evident that his composition of them began november , , and ended february [ ], - .' some difficulty is caused in following boswell's statement by the length of time that often elapsed between the debate itself and its publication. the speeches that were spoken between nov. , or, more strictly speaking, nov. , , and feb. , , were in their publication spread through the _magazine_ from july to march, . on feb. , , lord carteret in the house of 'lords, and mr. sandys, 'the motion-maker[ ],' in the house of commons, moved an address to the king for the removal of sir robert walpole. johnson's report of the debate in the lords was published in the _magazine_ for the next july and august. the year went round. walpole's ministry was overthrown, and walpole himself was banished to the house of lords. a second year went by. at length, in three of the spring numbers of , the debate on sandys's motion was reported. it had been published in the _london magazine_ eleven months earlier. cave, if he was tardy, nevertheless was careful that his columns should not want variety. thus in the number for july , we have the middle part of the debate in the lords on feb. , , the end of the debate in the commons on march , , and the beginning of another in the commons on the following march . from the number for july to the number for march johnson, as i have already said, was the sole composer of the _debates_. the irregularity with which they were given at first sight seems strange; but in it a certain method can be discovered. the proceedings of a house of commons that had come to an end might, as i have shown, be freely published. there had been a dissolution after the session which closed in april . the publication of the _debates_ of the old parliament could at once begin, and could go on freely from month to month all the year round. but they would not last for ever. in , in the autumn recess, the time when experience had shewn that the resolution of the house could be broken with the least danger, the _debates_ of the new parliament were published. they were continued even in the short session before christmas. but the spring of saw a cautious return to the reports of the old parliament. the session closed on april , and in the may number the comparatively fresh _debates_ began again. in one case the report was not six months after date. in the beginning of this publication went on even in the session, but it was confined to the proceedings of the previous winter. the following table shews the order in which johnson's debates were published:-- _gentleman's _debate or part magazine_. of debate of_ july, {parliament was dissolved } feb. , { on april , . } aug. " feb. , " sept. " {jan. , " {mar. , " oct. " mar. , " nov. " mar. , " dec. " { the new parliament met} dec. , { on dec. . } _gentleman's debate or part magazine. of debate of_ supplement to dec. , " dec. ," jan. feb. , feb. , " feb. " jan. , " april , " mar. " feb. , " april , " april " jan. , " feb. , " may " nov. , june " nov. , " april , july " the session ended on july april , " . dec. , " dec. , " aug. " dec. , " sept. " dec. , " dec. , " oct. " dec. , " may , nov. " the session opened on may , " nov. . dec. " may , " june , " supplement to dec. , june , jan. dec. , feb. " feb. , mar. " feb. , " april " the session ended on april feb. , " may " mar. , nov. , " june " mar. , " feb. , july " mar. , mar. , " feb. , aug. " feb. , " sept. " feb. , " oct. " feb. , " nov. " feb. , " dec. " the session opened on dec. feb. , " supplement to feb. , " jan. feb. , " feb. " dec. , feb. , mar. " dec. , during the rest of the debates were given in the old form, and in a style that is a close imitation of johnson's. most likely they were composed by hawkesworth (_ante_, p. ). in they were fewer in number, and in the reports of the senate of lilliputia with its hurgoes and clinabs passed away for ever. they had begun, to quote the words of the preface to the _magazine_ for , at a time when 'a determined spirit of opposition in the national assemblies communicated itself to almost every individual, multiplied and invigorated periodical papers, and rendered politics the chief, if not the only object, of curiosity.' they are a monument to the greatness of walpole, and to the genius of johnson. had that statesman not been overthrown, the people would have called for these reports even though johnson had refused to write them. had johnson still remained the reporter, even though walpole no longer swayed the senate of the lilliputians, the speeches of that tumultuous body would still have been read. for though they are not debates, yet they have a vast vigour and a great fund of wisdom of their own. * * * * * appendix b. johnson's letters to his mother and miss porter in . (_page _.) malone published seven of the following letters in the fourth edition, and mr. croker the rest. 'to mrs. johnson in lichfield. 'honoured madam, 'the account which miss [porter] gives me of your health pierces my heart. god comfort and preserve you and save you, for the sake of jesus christ. 'i would have miss read to you from time to time the passion of our saviour, and sometimes the sentences in the communion service, beginning "_come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and i will give you rest_." 'i have just now read a physical book, which inclines me to think that a strong infusion of the bark would do you good. do, dear mother, try it. 'pray, send me your blessing, and forgive all that i have done amiss to you. and whatever you would have done, and what debts you would have paid first, or any thing else that you would direct, let miss put it down; i shall endeavour to obey you. 'i have got twelve guineas[ ] to send you, but unhappily am at a loss how to send it to-night. if i cannot send it to-night, it will come by the next post. 'pray, do not omit any thing mentioned in this letter: god bless you for ever and ever. 'i am your dutiful son, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , [ ].' 'to miss porter, at mrs. johnson's, in lichfield. 'my dear miss, 'i think myself obliged to you beyond all expression of gratitude for your care of my dear mother. god grant it may not be without success. tell kitty[ ] that i shall never forget her tenderness for her mistress. whatever you can do, continue to do. my heart is very full. 'i hope you received twelve guineas on monday. i found a way of sending them by means of the postmaster, after i had written my letter, and hope they came safe. i will send you more in a few days. god bless you all. 'i am, my dear, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , . 'over the leaf is a letter to my mother.' 'dear honoured mother, 'your weakness afflicts me beyond what i am willing to communicate to you. i do not think you unfit to face death, but i know not how to bear the thought of losing you. endeavour to do all you [can] for yourself. eat as much as you can. 'i pray often for you; do you pray for me. i have nothing to add to my last letter. 'i am, dear, dear mother 'your dutiful son, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'to mrs. johnson, in lichfield. 'dear honoured mother, 'i fear you are too ill for long letters; therefore i will only tell you, you have from me all the regard that can possibly subsist in the heart. i pray god to bless you for evermore, for jesus christ's sake. amen. 'let miss write to me every post, however short. 'i am, dear mother, 'your dutiful son, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'to miss porter, at mrs. johnson's, in lichfield. 'dear miss, 'i will, if it be possible, come down to you. god grant i may yet [find] my dear mother breathing and sensible. do not tell her, lest i disappoint her. if i miss to write next post, i am on the road. 'i am, my dearest miss, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' _on the other side_. 'dear honoured mother[ ], 'neither your condition nor your character make it fit for me to say much. you have been the best mother, and i believe the best woman in the world. i thank you for your indulgence to me, and beg forgiveness of all that i have done ill, and all that i have omitted to do well. god grant you his holy spirit, and receive you to everlasting happiness, for jesus christ's sake. amen. lord jesus receive your spirit. amen. 'i am, dear, dear mother, 'your dutiful son, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'to miss porter in lichfield. 'you will conceive my sorrow for the loss of my mother, of the best mother. if she were to live again surely i should behave better to her. but she is happy, and what is past is nothing to her; and for me, since i cannot repair my faults to her, i hope repentance will efface them. i return you and all those that have been good to her my sincerest thanks, and pray god to repay you all with infinite advantage. write to me, and comfort me, dear child. i shall be glad likewise, if kitty will write to me. i shall send a bill of twenty pounds in a few days, which i thought to have brought to my mother; but god suffered it not. i have not power or composure to say much more. god bless you, and bless us all. 'i am, dear miss, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , [ ].' 'to miss porter. (_the beginning is torn and lost_.) * * * * * 'you will forgive me if i am not yet so composed as to give any directions about any thing. but you are wiser and better than i, and i shall be pleased with all that you shall do. it is not of any use for me now to come down; nor can i bear the place. if you want any directions, mr. howard[ ] will advise you. the twenty pounds i could not get a bill for to-night, but will send it on saturday. 'i am, my dear, your affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' * * * * * 'to miss porter. 'dear miss, 'i have no reason to forbear writing, but that it makes my heart heavy, and i had nothing particular to say which might not be delayed to the next post; but had no thoughts of ceasing to correspond with my dear lucy, the only person now left in the world with whom i think myself connected. there needed not my dear mother's desire, for every heart must lean to somebody, and i have nobody but you; in whom i put all my little affairs with too much confidence to desire you to keep receipts, as you prudently proposed. 'if you and kitty will keep the house, i think i shall like it best. kitty may carry on the trade for herself, keeping her own stock apart, and laying aside any money that she receives for any of the goods which her good mistress has left behind her. i do not see, if this scheme be followed, any need of appraising the books. my mother's debts, dear mother, i suppose i may pay with little difficulty; and the little trade may go silently forward. i fancy kitty can do nothing better; and i shall not want to put her out of a house, where she has lived so long, and with so much virtue. i am very sorry that she is ill, and earnestly hope that she will soon recover; let her know that i have the highest value for her, and would do any thing for her advantage. let her think of this proposal. i do not see any likelier method by which she may pass the remaining part of her life in quietness and competence. 'you must have what part of the house you please, while you are inclined to stay in it; but i flatter myself with the hope that you and i shall some time pass our days together. i am very solitary and comfortless, but will not invite you to come hither till i can have hope of making you live here so as not to dislike your situation. pray, my dearest, write to me as often as you can. 'i am, dear madam, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson. 'feb. , ' 'to miss porter. 'dear madam, 'i thought your last letter long in coming; and did not require or expect such an inventory of little things as you have sent me. i could have taken your word for a matter of much greater value. i am glad that kitty is better; let her be paid first, as my dear, dear mother ordered, and then let me know at once the sum necessary to discharge her other debts, and i will find it you very soon. 'i beg, my dear, that you would act for me without the least scruple, for i can repose myself very confidently upon your prudence, and hope we shall never have reason to love each other less. i shall take it very kindly if you make it a rule to write to me once at least every week, for i am now very desolate, and am loth to be universally forgotten. 'i am, dear sweet, 'your affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' 'to miss porter. 'dear madam, 'i beg your pardon for having so long omitted to write. one thing or other has put me off. i have this day moved my things and you are now to direct to me at staple inn, london. i hope, my dear, you are well, and kitty mends. i wish her success in her trade. i am going to publish a little story book [_rasselas_], which i will send you when it is out. write to me, my dearest girl, for i am always glad to hear from you. 'i am, my dear, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' 'to miss porter. 'dear madam, 'i am almost ashamed to tell you that all your letters came safe, and that i have been always very well, but hindered, i hardly know how, from writing. i sent, last week, some of my works, one for you, one for your aunt hunter, who was with my poor dear mother when she died, one for mr. howard, and one for kitty. 'i beg you, my dear, to write often to me, and tell me how you like my little book. 'i am, dear love, your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' johnson at cambridge. (page .) the following is the full extract of dr. sharp's letter giving an account of johnson's visit to cambridge in :-- 'camb. mar. , . 'as to johnson, you will be surprised to hear that i have had him in the chair in which i am now writing. he has ascended my aërial citadel. he came down on a saturday evening, with a mr. beauclerk, who has a friend at trinity. caliban, you may be sure, was not roused from his lair before next day noon, and his breakfast probably kept him till night. i saw nothing of him, nor was he heard of by any one, till monday afternoon, when i was sent for home to two gentlemen unknown. in conversation i made a strange _faux pas_ about burnaby greene's poem, in which johnson is drawn at full length[ ]. he drank his large potations of tea with me, interrupted by many an indignant contradiction, and many a noble sentiment. he had on a better wig than usual, but, one whose curls were not, like sir cloudesly's[ ], formed for 'eternal buckle.' [ ] our conversation was chiefly on books, you may be sure. he was much pleased with a small _milton_ of mine, published in the author's lifetime, and with the greek epigram on his own effigy, of its being the picture, not of him, but of a bad painter[ ]. there are many manuscript stanzas, for aught i know, in milton's own handwriting, and several interlined hints and fragments. we were puzzled about one of the sonnets, which we thought was not to be found in newton's edition[ ], and differed from all the printed ones. but johnson cried, "no, no!" repeated the whole sonnet instantly, _memoriter_, and shewed it us in newton's book. after which he learnedly harangued on sonnet-writing, and its different numbers. he tells me he will come hither again quickly, and is promised "an habitation in emanuel college[ ]." he went back to town next morning; but as it began to be known that he was in the university, several persons got into his company the last evening at trinity, where, about twelve, he began to be very great; stripped poor mrs. macaulay to the very skin, then gave her for his toast, and drank her in two bumpers.' (_gent. mag_. for , p. .) * * * * * appendix d. johnson's letter to dr. leland. (page .) 'to the rev. dr. leland. 'sir, 'among the names subscribed to the degree which i have had the honour of receiving from the university of dublin, i find none of which i have any personal knowledge but those of dr. andrews and yourself. 'men can be estimated by those who know them not, only as they are represented by those who know them; and therefore i flatter myself that i owe much of the pleasure which this distinction gives me to your concurrence with dr. andrews in recommending me to the learned society. 'having desired the provost to return my general thanks to the university, i beg that you, sir, will accept my particular and immediate acknowledgements. 'i am, sir, 'your most obedient and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, london, oct. , .' * * * * * appendix e. johnson's 'engaging in politicks with h----n. (page .) in a little volume entitled _parliamentary logick_, by the right hon. w.g. hamilton, published in , twelve years after the author's death, is included _considerations on corn_, by dr. johnson (_works_, v. ). it was written, says hamilton's editor, in november . a dearth had caused riots. 'those who want the supports of life,' johnson wrote, 'will seize them wherever they can be found.' (_ib_. p. .) he supported in this tract the bounty for exporting corn. if more than a year after he had engaged in politics with mr. hamilton nothing had been produced but this short tract, the engagement was not of much importance. but there was, i suspect, much more in it. indeed, the editor says (_preface_, p. ix.) that 'johnson had entered into some engagement with mr. hamilton, occasionally to furnish him with his sentiments on the great political topicks that should be considered in parliament.' mr. croker draws attention to a passage in johnson's letter to miss porter of jan. , (croker's _boswell_, p. ) in which he says: 'i cannot well come [to lichfield] during the session of parliament.' in the spring of this same year burke had broken with hamilton, in whose service he had been. 'the occasion of our difference,' he wrote, 'was not any act whatsoever on my part; it was entirely upon his, by a voluntary but most insolent and intolerable demand, amounting to no less than a claim of servitude during the whole course of my life, without leaving to me at any time a power either of getting forward with honour, or of retiring with tranquillity' (burke's _corres_. i. ). it seems to me highly probable that hamilton, in consequence of his having just lost, as i have shewn, burke's services, sought johnson's aid. he had taken burke 'as a companion in his studies.' (_ib_. p. .) 'six of the best years of my life,' wrote burke, 'he took me from every pursuit of literary reputation or of improvement of my fortune. in that time he made his own fortune (a very great one).' (_ib_. p. .) burke had been recommended to hamilton by dr. warton. on losing him hamilton, on feb. , , wrote to warton, giving a false account of his separation with burke, and asking him to recommend some one to fill his place--some one 'who, in addition to a taste and an understanding of ancient authors, and what generally passes under the name of scholarship, has likewise a share of modern knowledge, and has applied himself in some degree to the study of the law.' by way of payment he offers at once 'an income, which would neither be insufficient for him as a man of letters, or disreputable to him as a gentleman,' and hereafter 'a situation'--a post, that is to say, under government. (wooll's _warton_, i. .) warton recommended chambers. chambers does not seem to have accepted the post, for we find him staying on at oxford (_post_, ii. , ). johnson had all the knowledge that hamilton required, except that of law. it is this very study that we find him at this very time entering upon. all this shows that for some time and to some extent an engagement was formed between him and hamilton. boswell, writing to malone on feb. , , while _the life of johnson_ was going through the press, says:-- 'i shall have more cancels. that _nervous_ mortal w. g. h. is not satisfied with my report of some particulars _which i wrote down from his own mouth_, and is so much agitated that courtenay has persuaded me to allow a _new edition_ of them by h. himself to be made at h.'s expense.' (croker's _boswell_, p. ). this would seem to show that there was something that hamilton wished to conceal. horace walpole (_memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. ) does not give him a character for truthfulness. he writes on one occasion:--'hamilton denied it, but his truth was not renowned.' miss burney, who met hamilton fourteen years after this, thus describes him:--'this mr. hamilton is extremely tall and handsome; has an air of haughty and fashionable superiority; is intelligent, dry, sarcastic, and clever. i should have received much pleasure from his conversational powers, had i not previously been prejudiced against him, by hearing that he is infinitely artful, double, and crafty.' (mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. ). * * * * * appendix f. johnson's first acquaintance with the thrales and his serious illness. (_page_ .) johnson (_pr. and med_. p. ) writes:--'my first knowledge of thrale was in .' in a letter to mrs. thrale, he says:--'you were but five-and-twenty when i knew you first.' (_piozzi letters_, i. ). as she was born on jan. / , , this would place their introduction in . in another letter, written on july , , he talks of her 'kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched.' (_ib_. ii. ). perhaps, however, he here spoke in round numbers. mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says they first met in . mr. thrale, she writes, sought an excuse for inviting him. 'the celebrity of mr. woodhouse (_post_, ii. ), a shoemaker, whose verses were at that time the subject of common discourse, soon afforded a 'pretence.' there is a notice of woodhouse in the _gent. mag_. for june, (p. ). johnson, she says, dined with them every thursday through the winter of - , and in the autumn of followed them to brighton. in the _piozzi letters_ (i. ) there is a letter of his, dated aug. , , in which he speaks of his intention to join them there. 'from that time,' she writes, 'his visits grew more frequent till, in the year , his health, which he had always complained of, grew so exceedingly bad, that he could not stir out of his room in the court he inhabited for many _weeks_ together, i think _months_. mr. thrale's attentions and my own now became so acceptable to him, that he often lamented to us the horrible condition of his mind, which, he said, was nearly distracted: and though he charged _us_ to make him odd solemn promises of secrecy on so strange a subject, yet when we waited on him one morning, and heard him, in the most pathetic terms, beg the prayers of dr. delap [the rector of lewes] who had left him as we came in, i felt excessively affected with grief, and well remember my husband involuntarily lifted up one hand to shut his mouth, from provocation at hearing a man so widely proclaim what he could at last persuade no one to believe; and what, if true, would have been so unfit to reveal. mr. thrale went away soon after, leaving me with him, and bidding me prevail on him to quit his close habitation in the court, and come with us to streatham, where i undertook the care of his health, and had the honour and happiness of contributing to its restoration.' it is not possible to reconcile the contradiction in dates between johnson and mrs. piozzi, nor is it easy to fix the time of this illness. that before february, , he had had an illness so serious as to lead him altogether to abstain from wine is beyond a doubt. boswell, on his return to england in that month, heard it from his own lips (_post_, ii. ). that this illness must have attacked him after march , , when he visited cambridge, is also clear; for at that time he was still drinking wine (_ante_, appendix c). that he was unusually depressed in the spring of this year is shewn by his entry at easter (_ante_, p. ). from his visit to dr. percy in the summer of (_ante_, p. ) to the autumn of , we have very little information about him. for more than two years he did not write to boswell (_post_, ii. ). dr. adams (_ante_, p. ) describes the same kind of attack as mrs. piozzi. its date is not given. boswell, after quoting an entry made on johnson's birthday, sept. , , says 'about this time he was afflicted' with the illness dr. adams describes. from mrs. piozzi, from johnson's account to boswell, and from dr. adams we learn of a serious illness. was there more than one? if there was only one, then boswell is wrong in placing it before march , , when johnson was still a wine-drinker, and mrs. piozzi is wrong in placing it after february, , when he had become an abstainer. johnson certainly stayed at streatham from before midsummer to october in (_post_, ii. , and _pr. and med_. p. ), and this fact lends support to mrs. piozzi's statement. but, on the other hand, his meetings with boswell in february of that year, and his letters to langton of march and may (_post_, ii. , ), shew a not unhappy frame of mind. boswell, in his _hebrides_ (oct. , ), speaks of johnson's illness in . if it was in that he was ill, it must have been after may and before midsummer-day, and this period is almost too brief for mrs. piozzi's account. it is a curious coincidence that cowper was introduced to the unwins in the same year in which johnson, according to his own account, had his first knowledge of the thrales. (southey's _cowper_, i, .) * * * * * footnotes: [ ] _post_, iv. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, i. . [ ] _history of the decline and fall of the roman empire_, ed. , vol. i. p. xi. [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, i. . [ ] _post_, ii. . [ ] _post_, i. . [ ] _post_, iv. . [ ] _post_, ii. . [ ] _post_, iv. ; v. . [ ] _post_, v. . [ ] _post_, i. , n. ; iv. , n. ; v. , n. , , n. ; vi. i-xxxvii. [ ] _post_, i. , n. . [ ] _post_, ii. . [ ] _post_, vi. xxxiv. [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, vi. xxii. [ ] _post_, iv. , n. . [ ] _post_, i. , . [ ] _post_, iv. , n. . [ ] _post_, i. , n. . [ ] _post_, iii. , n. . [ ] _post_, i. , n. . [ ] _post_, i. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, iii. . [ ] _post_, i. . n. . [ ] i. , n. . [ ] _post_, vi. . [ ] _post_, ii. . [ ] _post_, iii. , n. ; . [ ] _post_, i. [ ] _post_, i. - [ ] _post_, i. - . [ ] _post_, iv. , n. [ ] ii. - . [ ] vol. ii. p. . [ ] johnson's _works_, ed. , vol. v. p. . [ ] johnson's _works_, ed. , vol. v. p. . [ ] see _post_, ii. , - , . [ ] see _post_, iv. . [ ] _correspondence of edmund burke_, ii. . [ ] to this interesting and accurate publication i am indebted for many valuable notes. [ ] _post_, iii. , n. . [ ] johnson's _works_, ed. , vol. iv. p. . [ ] _post_, i. , _n_. . [ ] johnson said of him:--'sir joshua reynolds is the same all the year round;' _post_, march , . boswell elsewhere describes him as 'he who used to be looked upon as perhaps the most happy man in the world.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] 'o noctes coenaeque deum!' 'o joyous nights! delicious feasts! at which the gods might be my guests. _francis_. horace, _sat_, ii. . . [ ] six years before this dedication sir joshua had conferred on him another favour. 'i have a proposal to make to you,' boswell had written to him, 'i am for certain to be called to the english bar next february. will you now do my picture? and the price shall be paid out of the first fees which i receive as a barrister in westminster hall. or if that fund should fail, it shall be paid at any rate five years hence by myself or my representatives.' boswell told him at the same time that the debts which he had contracted in his father's lifetime would not be cleared off for some years. the letter was endorsed by sir joshua:--'i agree to the above conditions;' and the portrait was painted. taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'i surely have the art of writing agreeably. the lord chancellor [thurlow] told me he had read every word of my _hebridian journal_;' he could not help it; adding, 'could you give a rule how to write a book that a man _must_ read? i believe longinus could not.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] boswell perhaps quotes from memory the following passage in goldsmith's _life of nash_:--'the doctor was one day conversing with locke and two or three more of his learned and intimate companions, with that freedom, gaiety, and cheerfulness, which is ever the result of innocence. in the midst of their mirth and laughter, the doctor, looking from the window, saw nash's chariot stop at the door. "boys, boys," cried the philosopher, "let us now be wise, for here is a fool coming."' cunningham's goldsmith's _works_, iv. . dr. warton in his criticism on pope's line 'unthought of frailties cheat us in the wise,' (_moral essays_, i. ) says:--'for who could imagine that dr. clarke valued himself for his agility, and frequently amused himself in a private room of his house in leaping over the tables and chairs.' warton's _essay on pope_, ii. . 'it is a good remark of montaigne's,' wrote goldsmith, 'that the wisest men often have friends with whom they do not care how much they play the fool.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . mr. seward says in his _anecdotes_, ii. , that 'in the opinion of dr. johnson' dr. clarke was the most complete literary character that england ever produced.' for dr. clarke's sermons see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, oct. , , note. [ ] how much delighted would boswell have been, had he been shewn the following passage, recorded by miss burney, in an account she gives of a conversation with the queen:-- the queen:--'miss burney, have you heard that boswell is going to publish a life of your friend dr. johnson?' 'no, ma'am!' 'i tell you as i heard, i don't know for the truth of it, and i can't tell what he will do. he is so extraordinary a man that perhaps he will devise something extraordinary.' _mme. d'artlay's diary_, ii. . 'dr. johnson's history,' wrote horace walpole, on june , , 'though he is going to have as many lives as a cat, might be reduced to four lines; but i shall wait to extract the quintessence till sir john hawkins, madame piozzi, and mr. boswell have produced their quartos.' horace walpole's _letters_, viii. . [ ] the delay was in part due to boswell's dissipation and place-hunting, as is shewn by the following passages in his _letters_ to temple:--'feb. , , i have been wretchedly dissipated, so that i have not written a line for a fortnight.' p. . 'nov. , , malone's hospitality, and my other invitations, and particularly my attendance at lord lonsdale's, have lost us many evenings.' _ib_. p. . 'june , , how unfortunate to be obliged to interrupt my work! never was a poor ambitious projector more mortified. i am suffering without any prospect of reward, and only from my own folly.' _ib_. p. . [ ] 'you cannot imagine what labour, what perplexity, what vexation i have endured in arranging a prodigious multiplicity of materials, in supplying omissions, in searching for papers, buried in different masses, and all this besides the exertion of composing and polishing; many a time have i thought of giving it up.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] boswell writing to temple in , says:--'i try to keep a journal, and shall shew you that i have done tolerably; but it is hardly credible what ground i go over, and what a variety of men and manners i contemplate in a day; and all the time i myself am _pars magna_, for my exuberant spirits will not let me listen enough.' _ib_. p. . mr. barclay said that 'he had seen boswell lay down his knife and fork, and take out his tablets, in order to register a good anecdote.' croker's _boswell_, p. . the account given by paoli to miss burney, shows that very early in life boswell took out his tablets:--'he came to my country, and he fetched me some letter of recommending him; but i was of the belief he might be an impostor, and i supposed in my minde he was an espy; for i look away from him, and in a moment i look to him again, and i behold his tablets. oh! he was to the work of writing down all i say. indeed i was angry. but soon i discover he was no impostor and no espy; and i only find i was myself the monster he had come to discern. oh! he is a very good man; i love him indeed; so cheerful, so gay, so pleasant! but at the first, oh! i was indeed angry.' _mme. d'arblay's diary_, ii. . boswell not only recorded the conversations, he often stimulated them. on one occasion 'he assumed,' he said, 'an air of ignorance to incite dr. johnson to talk, for which it was often necessary to employ some address.' see _post_, april , . 'tom tyers,' said johnson, 'described me the best. he once said to me, "sir, you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken to."' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . boswell writing of this tour said:--'i also may be allowed to claim some merit in leading the conversation; i do not mean leading, as in an orchestra, by playing the first fiddle; but leading as one does in examining a witness--starting topics, and making him pursue them.' _ib_. sept. . one day he recorded:--'i did not exert myself to get dr. johnson to talk, that i might not have the labour of writing down his conversation.' _ib_. sept. . his industry grew much less towards the close of johnson's life. under may , , he records:--'of his conversation on that and other occasions during this period, i neglected to keep any regular record.' on may , :--'i have no minute of any interview with johnson [from may ] till may . 'may , :--'of these days and others on which i saw him i have no memorials.' [ ] it is an interesting question how far boswell derived his love of truth from himself, and how far from johnson's training. he was one of johnson's _school_. he himself quotes reynolds's observation, 'that all who were of his _school_ are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they would not have possessed in the same degree if they had not been acquainted with johnson' (_post_, under march , ). writing to temple in , he said:--'johnson taught me to cross-question in common life.' _letters of boswell_, p. . his quotations, nevertheless, are not unfrequently inaccurate. yet to him might fairly be applied the words that gibbon used of tillemont:--'his inimitable accuracy almost assumes the character of genius.' gibbon's _misc. words_, i. . [ ] 'the revision of my _life of johnson_, by so acute and knowing a critic as mr. malone, is of most essential consequence, especially as he is _johnsonianissimum_.' _letters of boswell_, p. . a few weeks earlier he had written:--'yesterday afternoon malone and i made ready for the press thirty pages of johnson's _life_; he is much pleased with it; but i feel a sad indifference [he had lately lost his wife], and he says, "i have not the use of my faculties."' _ib_. p. . [ ] horace, _odes_, i. . . [ ] he had published an answer to hume's _essay on miracles_. see _post_, march , . [ ] macleod asked if it was not wrong in orrery to expose the defects of a man [swift] with whom he lived in intimacy, johnson, 'why no, sir, after the man is dead; for then it is done historically.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . see also _post_, sept , . [ ] see mr. malone's preface to his edition of shakspeare. boswell. [ ] 'april , . 'my _life of johnson_ is at last drawing to a close.... i really hope to publish it on the th current.... i am at present in such bad spirits that i have every fear concerning it--that i may get no profit, nay, may lose--that the public may be disappointed, and think that i have done it poorly--that i may make many enemies, and even have quarrels. yet perhaps the very reverse of all this may happen.' _letters of boswell_, p. . 'august , . 'my _magnum opus_ sells wonderfully; twelve hundred are now gone, and we hope the whole seventeen hundred may be gone before christmas.' _ib_. p. . malone in his preface to the fourth edition, dated june , , says that 'near four thousand copies have been dispersed.' the first edition was in vols., quarto; the second ( ) in vols., octavo; the third ( ), the fourth ( ), the fifth ( ), and the sixth ( ), were each in vols., octavo. the last four were edited by malone, boswell having died while he was preparing notes for the third edition. [ ] 'burke affirmed that boswell's _life_ was a greater monument to johnson's fame than all his writings put together.' _life of mackintosh_, i. . [ ] it is a pamphlet of forty-two pages, under the title of _the principal corrections and additions to the first edition of mr. boswell's life of johnson_. price two shillings and sixpence. [ ] reynolds died on feb. , . [ ] sir joshua in his will left £ to mr. boswell 'to be expended, if he thought proper, in the purchase of a picture at the sale of his paintings, to be kept for his sake.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] of the seventy-five years that johnson lived, he and boswell did not spend two years and two months in the same neighbourhood. excluding the time they were together on their tour to the hebrides, they were dwelling within reach of each other a few weeks less than two years. moreover, when they were apart, there were great gaps in their correspondence. between dec. , , and jan. , , and again between nov. , and june , , during which periods they did not meet, boswell did not receive a single letter from johnson. the following table shows the times they were in the same neighbourhood. , may to aug. , london. , a few days in february " , " " march, oxford. , a few days in may, london. , end of sept. to nov. , " , march to about may , " , april to may , " " aug. to nov. , scotland. , march to april , london. may to may , " , march to may , london, oxford, birmingham, with an interval of lichfield, about a fortnight, ashbourne, when johnson was at and bath and boswell at bath. london, , sept. to sept. , ashbourne. , march to may , london. , march to may , " " oct. to oct. , " , march to june , london and southill. , march to may , london. , may to june , london and oxford. [ ] 'to shew what wisdom and what sense can do, the poet sets ulysses in our view.' _francis_. horace, _ep_. i. . . [ ] in his _letter to the people of scotland, p. , he wrote:--'allow me, my friends and countrymen, while i with honest zeal maintain _your_ cause--allow me to indulge a little more my _own egotism_ and _vanity_. they are the indigenous plants of my mind; they distinguish it. i may prune their luxuriancy; but i must not entirely clear it of them; for then i should be no longer "as i am;" and perhaps there might be something not so good.' [ ] see _post_, april , , note. [ ] lord macartney was the first english ambassador to the court of pekin. he left england in and returned in . [ ] boswell writing to temple ten days earlier had said:--'behold my _hand_! the robbery is only of a few shillings; but the cut on my head and bruises on my arms were sad things, and confined me to bed, in pain, and fever, and helplessness, as a child, many days.... this shall be a crisis in my life: i trust i shall henceforth be a sober regular man. indeed, my indulgence in wine has, of late years especially, been excessive.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] on this day his brother wrote to mr. temple: 'i have now the painful task of informing you that my dear brother expired this morning at two o'clock; we have both lost a kind, affectionate friend, and i shall never have such another.' _letters of boswell_, p. . what was probably boswell's last letter is as follows:-- 'my dear temple, 'i would fain write to you in my own hand, but really cannot. [these words, which are hardly legible, and probably the last poor boswell ever wrote, afford the clearest evidence of his utter physical prostration.] alas, my friend, what a state is this! my son james is to write for me what remains of this letter, and i am to dictate. the pain which continued for so many weeks was very severe indeed, and when it went off i thought myself quite well; but i soon felt a conviction that i was by no means as i should be--so exceedingly weak, as my miserable attempt to write to you afforded a full proof. all then that can be said is, that i must wait with patience. but, o my friend! how strange is it that, at this very time of my illness, you and miss temple should have been in such a dangerous state. much occasion for thankfulness is there that it has not been worse with you. pray write, or make somebody write frequently. i feel myself a good deal stronger to-day, not withstanding the scrawl. god bless you, my dear temple! i ever am your old and affectionate friend, here and i trust hereafter, 'james boswell.' _ib_. p. . [ ] malone died on may , . [ ] i do not here include his poetical works; for, excepting his latin translation of pope's _messiah_, his _london_, and his _vanity of human wishes_ imitated from _juvenal_; his prologue on the opening of drury-lane theatre by mr. garrick, and his _irene_, a tragedy, they are very numerous, and in general short; and i have promised a complete edition of them, in which i shall with the utmost care ascertain their authenticity, and illustrate them with notes and various readings. boswell. boswell's meaning, though not well expressed, is clear enough. mr. croker needlessly suggests that he wrote 'they are _not_ very numerous.' boswell a second time (_post_, under aug. , , note) mentions his intention to edit johnson's poems. he died without doing it. see also _post_, , boswell's note on addison's style. [ ] the _female quixote_ was published in . see _post_, , note. [ ] the first four volumes of the _lives_ were published in , the last six in . [ ] see dr. johnson's letter to mrs. thrale, dated ostick in skie, september , :--'boswell writes a regular journal of our travels, which i think contains as much of what i say and do, as of all other occurrences together; "_for such a faithful chronicler_ is _griffith_."' boswell. see _piozzi letters_, i. , where however we read '_as_ griffith.' [ ] _idler_, no. . boswell.--in this paper he says: 'those relations are commonly of most value in which the writer tells his own story. he that recounts the life of another ... lessens the familiarity of his tale to increase its dignity ... and endeavours to hide the man that he may produce a hero.' [ ] 'it very seldom happens to man that his business is his pleasure. what is done from necessity is so often to be done when against the present inclination, and so often fills the mind with anxiety, that an habitual dislike steals upon us, and we shrink involuntarily from the remembrance of our task.... from this unwillingness to perform more than is required of that which is commonly performed with reluctance it proceeds that few authors write their own lives.' _idler_, no. . see also _post_, may , . [ ] mrs. piozzi records the following conversation with johnson, which, she says, took place on july , . 'and who will be my biographer,' said he, 'do you think?' 'goldsmith, no doubt,' replied i; 'and he will do it the best among us.' 'the dog would write it best to be sure,' replied he; 'but his particular malice towards me, and general disregard for truth, would make the book useless to all, and injurious to my character.' 'oh! as to that,' said i, 'we should all fasten upon him, and force him to do you justice; but the worst is, the doctor does not _know_ your life; nor can i tell indeed who does, except dr. taylor of ashbourne.' 'why taylor,' said he, 'is better acquainted with my _heart_ than any man or woman now alive; and the history of my oxford exploits lies all between him and adams; but dr. james knows my very early days better than he. after my coming to london to drive the world about a little, you must all go to jack hawkesworth for anecdotes: i lived in great familiarity with him (though i think there was not much affection) from the year till the time mr. thrale and you took me up. i intend, however, to disappoint the rogues, and either make you write the life, with taylor's intelligence; or, which is better, do it myself after outliving you all. i am now,' added he, 'keeping a diary, in hopes of using it for that purpose sometime.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . how much of this is true cannot be known. boswell some time before this conversation had told johnson that he intended to write his life, and johnson had given him many particulars (see _post_, march , , and april , ). he read moreover in manuscript most of boswell's _tour to the hebrides_, and from it learnt of his intention. 'it is no small satisfaction to me to reflect,' boswell wrote, 'that dr. johnson, after being apprised of my intentions, communicated to me, at subsequent periods, many particulars of his life.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] 'it may be said the death of dr. johnson kept the public mind in agitation beyond all former example. no literary character ever excited so much attention.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] the greatest part of this book was written while sir john hawkins was alive; and i avow, that one object of my strictures was to make him feel some compunction for his illiberal treatment of dr. johnson. since his decease, i have suppressed several of my remarks upon his work. but though i would not 'war with the dead' _offensively_, i think it necessary to be strenuous in _defence_ of my illustrious friend, which i cannot be without strong animadversions upon a writer who has greatly injured him. let me add, that though i doubt i should not have been very prompt to gratify sir john hawkins with any compliment in his life-time, i do now frankly acknowledge, that, in my opinion, his volume, however inadequate and improper as a life of dr. johnson, and however discredited by unpardonable inaccuracies in other respects, contains a collection of curious anecdotes and observations, which few men but its author could have brought together. boswell. [ ] 'the next name that was started was that of sir john hawkins; and mrs. thrale said, "why now, dr. johnson, he is another of those whom you suffer nobody to abuse but yourself: garrick is one too; for, if any other person speaks against him, you brow-beat him in a minute." "why madam," answered he, "they don't know when to abuse him, and when to praise him; i will allow no man to speak ill of david that he does not deserve; and as to sir john, why really i believe him to be an honest man at the bottom; but to be sure he is penurious, and he is mean, and it must be owned he has a degree of brutality, and a tendency to savageness, that cannot easily be defended.... he said that sir john and he once belonged to the same club, but that as he eat no supper, after, the first night of his admission he desired to be excused paying his share." "and was he excused?" "o yes; for no man is angry at another for being inferior to himself. we all scorned him, and admitted his plea. for my part, i was such a fool as to pay my share for wine, though i never tasted any. but sir john was a most _unclubable man_."' madame d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'in censuring mr. [_sic_] j. hawkins's book i say: "there is throughout the whole of it a dark, uncharitable cast, which puts the most unfavourable construction on my illustrious friend's conduct." malone maintains _cast_ will not do; he will have "malignancy." is that not too strong? how would "disposition" do?... hawkins is no doubt very malevolent. _observe how he talks of me as quite unknown.' letters of boswell_, p. . malone wrote of hawkins as follows: 'the bishop [bishop percy of dromore] concurred with every other person i have heard speak of hawkins, in saying that he was a most detestable fellow. he was the son of a carpenter, and set out in life in the very lowest line of the law. dyer knew him well at one time, and the bishop heard him give a character of hawkins once that painted him in the blackest colours; though dyer was by no means apt to deal in such portraits. dyer said he was a man of the most mischievous, uncharitable, and malignant disposition. sir joshua reynolds observed to me that hawkins, though he assumed great outward sanctity, was not only mean and grovelling in dispostion, but absolutely dishonest. he never lived in any real intimacy with dr. johnson, who never opened his heart to him, or had in fact any accurate knowledge of his character.' prior's _malone_, pp. - . see _post_, feb. , note. [ ] mrs. piozzi. see _post_, under june , . [ ] voltaire in his account of bayle says: 'des maizeaux a écrit sa vie en un gros volume; elle ne devait pas contenir six pages.' voltaire's _works_, edition of , xvii. . [ ] brit. mus. , ayscough's catal., sloane mss. boswell.--horace walpole describes birch as 'a worthy, good-natured soul, full of industry and activity, and running about like a young setting-dog in quest of anything, new or old, and with no parts, taste, or judgment.' walpole's _letters_, vii. . see _post_, sept. . [ ] 'you have fixed the method of biography, and whoever will write a life well must imitate you.' horace walpole to mason; walpole's _letters_, vi. . [ ] 'i am absolutely certain that my mode of biography, which gives not only a _history_ of johnson's _visible_ progress through the world, and of his publications, but a _view_ of his mind in his letters and conversations, is the most perfect that can be conceived, and will be more of a life than any work that has ever yet appeared.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] pope's prologue to addison's _cato_, . . [ ] 'boswell is the first of biographers. he has distanced all his competitors so decidedly that it is not worth while to place them. eclipse is first, and the rest nowhere.' macaulay's _essays_, i. . [ ] see _post_, sept. , , and malone's note of march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . hannah more met boswell when he was carrying through the press his _journal of a tour to the hebrides_. 'boswell tells me,' she writes, 'he is printing anecdotes of johnson, not his _life_, but, as he has the vanity to call it, his _pyramid_. i besought his tenderness for our virtuous and most revered departed friend, and begged he would mitigate some of his asperities. he said roughly: "he would not cut off his claws, nor make a tiger a cat, to please anybody." it will, i doubt not, be a very amusing book, but, i hope, not an indiscreet one; he has great enthusiasm and some fire.' h. more's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] rambler, no. . boswell. [ ] in the _journal of a tour to the hebrides_. [ ] 'mason's _life of gray_ is excellent, because it is interspersed with letters which show us the _man_. his _life of whitehead_ is not a life at all, for there is neither a letter nor a saying from first to last.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] the earl and countess of jersey, wright. [ ] plutarch's _life of alexander_, langhorne's translation. boswell. [ ] in the original, _revolving something_. [ ] in the original, _and so little regard the manners_. [ ] in the original, _and are rarely transmitted_. [ ] _rambler_, no. . boswell. [ ] bacon's _advancement of learning_, book i. boswell. [ ] johnson's godfather, dr. samuel swinfen, according to the author of _memoirs of the life and writings of dr. johnson_, , p. , was at the time of his birth lodging with michael johnson. johnson had uncles on the mother's side, named samuel and nathanael (see _notes and queries_, th s. v. ), after whom he and his brother may have been named. it seems more likely that it was his godfather who gave him his name. [ ] so early as _the tatler_ complains of this 'indiscriminate assumption.' 'i'll undertake that if you read the superscriptions to all the offices in the kingdom, you will not find three letters directed to any but esquires.... in a word it is now _populus armigerorum_, a people of esquires, and i don't know but by the late act of naturalisation, foreigners will assume that title as part of the immunity of being englishmen.' _the tatler_, no. . [ ] 'i can hardly tell who was my grandfather,' said johnson. see _post_, may , . [ ] michael johnson was born in . he must have been engaged in the book-trade as early as ; for in the _life of dryden_ his son says, 'the sale of absalom and achitophel was so large, that my father, an old bookseller, told me, he had not known it equalled but by sacheverell's trial.' johnson's _works_, vii. . in the _life of sprat_ he is described by his son as 'an old man who had been no careless observer of the passages of those times.' ib. . [ ] her epitaph says that she was born at kingsnorton. kingsnorton is in worcestershire, and not, as the epitaph says, 'in agro varvicensi.' when johnson a few days before his death burnt his papers, some fragments of his _annals_ escaped the flames. one of these was never seen by boswell; it was published in under the title of _an account of the life of dr. samuel johnson, from his birth to his eleventh year, written by himself_. in this he says (p. ), 'my mother had no value for my father's relations; those indeed whom we knew of were much lower than hers.' writing to mrs. thrale on his way to scotland he said: 'we changed our horses at darlington, where mr. cornelius harrison, a cousin-german of mine, was perpetual curate. he was the only one of my relations who ever rose in fortune above penury, or in character above neglect.' _piozzi letters_, i. . his uncle harrison he described as 'a very mean and vulgar man, drunk every night, but drunk with little drink, very peevish, very proud, very ostentatious, but luckily not rich.' _annals_, p. . in _notes and queries_, th s. x. , is given the following extract of the marriage of johnson's parents from the register of packwood in warwickshire:-- ' . mickell johnsones of lichfield and sara ford maried june the th.' [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) records that johnson told her that 'his father was wrong-headed, positive, and afflicted with melancholy.' [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. [sept. ]. boswell. [ ] stockdale in his _memoirs_, ii. , records an anecdote told him by johnson of 'the generosity of one of the customers of his father. "this man was purchasing a book, and pressed my father to let him have it at a far less price than it was worth. when his other topics of persuasion failed, he had recourse to one argument which, he thought, would infallibly prevail:--you know, mr. johnson, that i buy an almanac of you every year."' [ ] extract of a letter, dated 'trentham, st. peter's day, ,' written by the rev. george plaxton, chaplain at that time to lord gower, which may serve to show the high estimation in which the father of our great moralist was held: 'johnson, the litchfield librarian, is now here; he propagates learning all over this diocese, and advanceth knowledge to its just height; all the clergy here are his pupils, and suck all they have from him; allen cannot make a warrant without his precedent, nor our quondam john evans draw a recognizance _sine directione michaelis_.' _gentleman's magazine_, october, . boswell. [ ] in _notes and queries_, rd s. v. , is given the following title-page of one of his books: '[greek: pharmako-basauos]: _or the touchstone of medicines, etc_. by sir john floyer of the city of litchfield, kt., m.d., of queen's college, oxford. london: printed for michael johnson, bookseller, and are to be sold at his shops at litchfield and uttoxiter, in staffordshire; and ashby-de-la-zouch, in leicestershire, .' [ ] johnson writing of his birth says: 'my father being that year sheriff of lichfield, and to ride the circuit of the county [mr. croker suggests city, not being aware that 'the city of lichfield was a county in itself.' see harwood's _lichfield_, p. . in like manner, in the militia bill of (_post_ ) we find entered, 'devonshire with exeter city and county,' 'lincolnshire with lincoln city and county'] next day, which was a ceremony then performed with great pomp, he was asked by my mother whom he would invite to the riding; and answered, "all the town now." he feasted the citizens with uncommon magnificence, and was the last but one that maintained the splendour of the riding.' _annals_, p. . he served the office of churchwarden in ; of sheriff in ; of junior bailiff in ; and senior bailiff in .' harwood's _lichfield_, p. . [ ] 'my father and mother had not much happiness from each other. they seldom conversed; for my father could not bear to talk of his affairs, and my mother being unacquainted with books cared not to talk of anything else. had my mother been more literate, they had been better companions. she might have sometimes introduced her unwelcome topic with more success, if she could have diversified her conversation. of business she had no distinct conception; and therefore her discourse was composed only of complaint, fear, and suspicion. neither of them ever tried to calculate the profits of trade, or the expenses of living. my mother concluded that we were poor, because we lost by some of our trades; but the truth was, that my father, having in the early part of his life contracted debts, never had trade sufficient to enable him to pay them and maintain his family; he got something, but not enough.' _annals_, p. . mr. croker noticing the violence of johnson's language against the excise, with great acuteness suspected 'some cause of _personal animosity_;' this mention of the trade in parchment (an _exciseable_ article) afforded a clue, which has led to the confirmation of that suspicion. in the records of the excise board is to be found the following letter, addressed to the supervisor of excise at lichfield: 'july , . the commissioners received yours of the nd instant, and since the justices would not give judgment against mr. michael johnson, _the tanner_, notwithstanding the facts were fairly against him, the board direct that the next time he offends, you do not lay an information against him, but send an affidavit of the fact, that he may be prosecuted in the exchequer.' [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'i remember, that being in bed with my mother one morning, i was told by her of the two places to which the inhabitants of this world were received after death: one a fine place filled with happiness, called heaven; the other, a sad place, called hell. that this account much affected my imagination i do not remember.' _annals_, p. . [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] mr. croker disbelieves the story altogether. 'sacheverel,' he says, 'by his sentence pronounced in feb. , was interdicted for three years from preaching; so that he could not have preached at lichfield while johnson was under three years of age. sacheverel, indeed, made a triumphal progress through the midland counties in ; and it appears by the books of the corporation of lichfield that he was received in that town, and complimented by the attendance of the corporation, "and a present of three dozen of wine," on june , ; but then "the _infant hercules of toryism_" was just _nine months_ old.' it is quite possible that the story is in the main correct. sacheverel was received in lichfield in on his way down to shropshire to take possession of a living. at the end of the suspension in march he preached a sermon in london, for which, as he told swift, 'a book-seller gave him £ , intending to print , ' (swift's _journal to stella_, april , ). it is likely enough that either on his way up to town or on his return journey he preached at lichfield. in the spring of johnson was three years old. [ ] see _post_, p. , and april , note; and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] _anecdotes of dr. johnson_, by hester lynch piozzi, p. . life of dr. johnson_, by sir john hawkins, p. . boswell. [ ] 'my father had much vanity which his adversity hindered from being fully exerted.' _annals_, p. . [ ] this anecdote of the duck, though disproved by internal and external evidence, has nevertheless, upon supposition of its truth, been made the foundation of the following ingenious and fanciful reflections of miss seward, amongst the communications concerning dr. johnson with which she has been pleased to favour me: 'these infant numbers contain the seeds of those propensities which through his life so strongly marked his character, of that poetick talent which afterwards bore such rich and plentiful fruits; for, excepting his orthographick works, every thing which dr. johnson wrote was poetry, whose essence consists not in numbers, or in jingle, but in the strength and glow of a fancy, to which all the stores of nature and of art stand in prompt administration; and in an eloquence which conveys their blended illustrations in a language "more tuneable than needs or rhyme or verse to add more harmony." 'the above little verses also shew that superstitious bias which "grew with his growth, and strengthened with his strength," and, of late years particularly, injured his happiness, by presenting to him the gloomy side of religion, rather than that bright and cheering one which gilds the period of closing life with the light of pious hope.' this is so beautifully imagined, that i would not suppress it. but like many other theories, it is deduced from a supposed fact, which is, indeed, a fiction. boswell. [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell. [ ] speaking himself of the imperfection of one of his eyes, he said to dr. burney, 'the dog was never good for much.' malone. [ ] boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] 'no accidental position of a riband,' wrote mrs. piozzi, 'escaped him, so nice was his observation, and so rigorous his demands of propriety.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . miss burney says:-- 'notwithstanding johnson is sometimes so absent and always so near-sighted, he scrutinizes into every part of almost everybody's appearance [at streatham].' and again she writes:--'his blindness is as much the effect of absence [of mind] as of infirmity, for he sees wonderfully at times. he can see the colour of a lady's top-knot, for he very often finds fault with it.' mme. d'arblays _diary_, i. , ii. . 'he could, when well, distinguish the hour on lichfield town-clock.' _post_, p. . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] this was dr. swinfen's opinion, who seems also to have attributed johnson's short-sightedness to the same cause. 'my mother,' he says, 'thought my diseases derived from her family.' _annals_, p. . when he was put out at nurse, 'she visited me,' he says, 'every day, and used to go different ways, that her assiduity might not expose her to ridicule.' [ ] in carte published a masterly 'account of materials, etc., for a history of england with the method of his undertaking.' (_gent. mag_. viii. .) he proposed to do much of what has been since done under the direction of the master of the rolls. he asked for subscriptions to carry on his great undertaking, for in its researches it was to be very great. in the city of london resolved to subscribe £ for seven years (ib. xiv: ). in vol. i. of his history, which only came down to the reign of john (published in ), he went out of his way to assert that the cure by the king's touch was not due to the 'regal _unction_'; for he had known a man cured who had gone over to france, and had been there 'touched by the eldest lineal descendant of a race of kings who had not at that time been crowned or _anointed_.' (ib. xviii. .) thereupon the court of common council by a unanimous vote withdrew its subscription, (ib. .) the old jacobites maintained that the power did not descend to mary, william, or anne. it was for this reason that boswell said that johnson should have been taken to rome; though indeed it was not till some years after he was 'touched' by queen anne that the pretender dwelt there. the hanoverian kings never 'touched.' the service for the ceremony was printed in the _book of common prayer_ as late as . (_penny cyclo_. xxi. .) 'it appears by the newspapers of the time,' says mr. wright, quoted by croker, 'that on march , , two hundred persons were touched by queen anne.' macaulay says that 'charles the second, in the course of his reign, touched near a hundred thousand persons.... the expense of the ceremony was little less than ten thousand pounds a year.' macaulay's _england_, ch. xiv. [ ] see _post_, p. , note. [ ] _anecdotes_, p. . boswell. [ ] johnson, writing of addison's schoolmasters, says:--'not to name the school or the masters of men illustrious for literature is a kind of historical fraud, by which honest fame is injuriously diminished. i would therefore trace him through the whole process of his education.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] neither the british museum nor the bodleian library has a copy. [ ] 'when we learned _propria qua maribus_, we were examined in the accidence; particularly we formed verbs, that is, went through the same person in all the moods and tenses. this was very difficult to me, and i was once very anxious about the next day, when this exercise was to be performed in which i had failed till i was discouraged. my mother encouraged me, and i proceeded better. when i told her of my good escape, "we often," said she, dear mother! "come off best when we are most afraid." she told me that, once when she asked me about forming verbs i said, "i did not form them in an ugly shape." "you could not," said she "speak plain; and i was proud that i had a boy who was forming verbs" these little memorials soothe my mind.' _annals_, p. . [ ] 'this was the course of the school which i remember with pleasure; for i was indulged and caressed by my master; and, i think, really excelled the rest.' _annals_, p. . [ ] johnson said of hunter:--'abating his brutality, he was a very good master;' _post_. march , . steele in the _spectator_, no. , two years after johnson's birth, describes these savage tyrants of the grammar-schools. 'the boasted liberty we talk of,' he writes, 'is but a mean reward for the long servitude, the many heartaches and terrors to which our childhood is exposed in going through a grammar school.... no one who has gone through what they call a great school but must remember to have seen children of excellent and ingenuous natures (as has afterwards appeared in their manhood); i say no man has passed through this way of education but must have seen an ingenuous creature expiring with shame, with pale looks, beseeching sorrow and silent tears, throw up its honest eyes and kneel or its tender kneeds to an inexorable blockhead to be forgiven the false quantity of a word in making a latin verse.' likely enough johnson's roughness was in part due to this brutal treatment; for steele goes on to say:--'it is wholly to this dreadful practise that we may attribute a certain hardiness and ferocity which some men, though liberally educated, carry about them in all their behaviour. to be bred like a gentleman, and punished like a malefactor, must, as we see it does, produce that illiberal sauciness which we see sometimes in men of letters.' [ ] johnson described him as 'a peevish and ill-tempered man,' and not so good a scholar or teacher as taylor made out. once the boys perceived that he did not understand a part of the latin lesson; another time, when sent up to the upper-master to be punished, they had to complain that when they 'could not get the passage,' the assistant would not help them. _annals_, pp. , . [ ] one of the contributors to the _athenian letters_. see _gent. mag_. liv. . [ ] johnson, _post_, march , , describes him as one 'who does not get drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy.' [ ] a tradition had reached johnson through his school-fellow andrew corbet that addison had been at the school and had been the leader in a barring out. (johnson's _works_, vii. .) garrick entered the school about two years after johnson left. according to garrick's biographer, tom davies (p. ), 'hunter was an odd mixture of the pedant and the sportsman. happy was the boy who could slily inform his offended master where a covey of partridges was to be found; this notice was a certain pledge of his pardon.' lord campbell in his _lives of the chief justices_, ii. , says:--'hunter is celebrated for having flogged seven boys who afterwards sat as judges in the superior courts at westminster at the same time. among these were chief justice wilmot, lord chancellor northington, sir t. clarke, master of the rolls, chief justice willes, and chief baron parker. it is remarkable that, although johnson and wilmot were several years class-fellows at lichfield, there never seems to have been the slightest intercourse between them in after life; but the chief justice used frequently to mention the lexicographer as "a long, lank, lounging boy, whom he distinctly remembered to have been punished by hunter for idleness." lord campbell blunders here. northington and clarke were from westminster school (campbell's _chancellors_, v. ). the schoolhouse, famous though it was, was allowed to fall into decay. a writer in the _gent. mag_. in (p. ) says that 'it is now in a state of dilapidation, and unfit for the use of either the master or boys.' [ ] johnson's observation to dr. rose, on this subject, deserves to be recorded. rose was praising the mild treatment of children at school, at a time when flogging began to be less practised than formerly: 'but then, (said johnson,) they get nothing else: and what they gain at one end, they lose at the other.' burney. see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] this passage is quoted from boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . mr. boyd had told johnson that lady errol did not use force or fear in educating her children; whereupon he replied, 'sir, she is wrong,' and continued in the words of the text. gibbon in his _autobiography_ says:--'the domestic discipline of our ancestors has been relaxed by the philosophy and softness of the age: and if my father remembered that he had trembled before a stern parent, it was only to adopt with his son an opposite mode of behaviour.' gibbon's _works_, i. . lord chesterfield writing to a friend on oct. , , says:--'pray let my godson never know what a blow or a whipping is, unless for those things for which, were he a man, he would deserve them; such as lying, cheating, making mischief, and meditated malice.' chesterfield's _misc. works_, iv. . [ ] johnson, however, hated anything that came near to tyranny in the management of children. writing to mrs. thrale, who had told him that she had on one occasion gone against the wish of her nurses, he said:--'that the nurses fretted will supply me during life with an additional motive to keep every child, as far as is possible, out of a nurse's power. a nurse made of common mould will have a pride in overcoming a child's reluctance. there are few minds to which tyranny is not delightful; power is nothing but as it is felt, and the delight of superiority is proportionate to the resistance overcome.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'sword, i will hallow thee for this thy deed.' henry vi, act iv. sc. . john wesley's mother, writing of the way she had brought up her children, boys and girls alike, says:--'when turned a year old (and some before) they were taught to fear the rod, and to cry softly; by which means they escaped abundance of correction they might otherwise have had.' wesley's _journal_, i. . [ ] 'there dwelt at lichfield a gentleman of the name of butt, to whose house on holidays he was ever welcome. the children in the family, perhaps offended with the rudeness of his behaviour, would frequently call him the great boy, which the father once overhearing said:--'you call him the great boy, but take my word for it, he will one day prove a great man.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] see _post_, march , and johnson's visit to birmingham in nov. . [ ] 'you should never suffer your son to be idle one minute. i do not call play, of which he ought to have a good share, idleness; but i mean sitting still in a chair in total inaction; it makes boys lazy and indolent.' chesterfield's _misc. works_, iv. . [ ] the author of the _reliques_. [ ] the summer of . [ ] johnson, writing of _paradise lost_, book ii. l. , says:--'in the history of _don bellianis_, when one of the knights approaches, as i remember, the castle of brandezar, the gates are said to open, _grating harsh thunder upon their brazen hinges_.' johnson's _works_, v. . see _post_, march , , where 'he had with him upon a jaunt il palmerino d'inghilterra.' prior says of burke that 'a very favourite study, as he once confessed in the house of commons, was the old romances, _palmerin of england_ and _don belianis of greece_, upon which he had wasted much valuable time.' prior's _burke_, p. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that the uncle was dr. joseph ford 'a physician of great eminence.' the son, parson ford, was cornelius. in boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , , johnson mentions an uncle who very likely was dr. ford. in _notes and queries_, th s. v. , it is shown that by the will of the widow of dr. ford the johnsons received £ in . on the same page the ford pedigree is given, where it is seen that johnson had an uncle cornelius. it has been stated that 'johnson was brought up by his uncle till his fifteenth year.' i understand boswell to say that johnson, after leaving lichfield school, resided for some time with his uncle before going to stourbridge. [ ] he is said to be the original of the parson in hogarth's _modern midnight conversation_. boswell. in the _life of fenton_ johnson describes ford as 'a clergyman at that time too well known, whose abilities, instead of furnishing convivial merriment to the voluptuous and dissolute, might have enabled him to excel among the virtuous and the wise.' johnson's _works_, viii. . writing to mrs. thrale on july , , he says, 'i would have been glad to go to hagley [close to stourbridge] for i should have had the opportunity of recollecting past times, and wandering _per montes notos et flumina nota_, of recalling the images of sixteen, and reviewing my conversations with poor ford.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see also _post_, may , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] as was likewise the bishop of dromore many years afterwards. boswell. [ ] mr. hector informs me, that this was made almost _impromptu_, in his presence. boswell. [ ] this he inserted, with many alterations, in the _gentleman's magazine_, [p. ]. boswell. the alterations are not always for the better. thus he alters 'and the long honours of a lasting name' into 'and fir'd with pleasing hope of endless fame.' [ ] settle was the last of the city-poets; _post_, may , . [ ] 'here swells the shelf with ogilby the great.' dunciad, i. . [ ] some young ladies at lichfield having proposed to act _the distressed mother_, johnson wrote this, and gave it to mr. hector to convey it privately to them. boswell. see _post_, , for _the distressed mother_. [ ] yet he said to boswell:--'sir, in my early years i read very hard. it is a sad reflection, but a true one, that i knew almost as much at eighteen as i do now' (_post_, july , ). he told mr. langton, that 'his great period of study was from the age of twelve to that of eighteen' (ib. note). he told the king that his reading had later on been hindered by ill-health (_post_, feb. ). [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that his father took him home, probably with a view to bring him up to his own trade; for i have heard johnson say that he himself was able to bind a book. 'it were better bind books again,' wrote mrs. thrale to him on sept. , , 'as you did one year in our thatched summer-house.' _piozzi letters_, i. . it was most likely at this time that he refused to attend his father to uttoxeter market, for which fault he made atonement in his old age (_post_, november, ). [ ] perhaps johnson had his own early reading in mind when he thus describes pope's reading at about the same age. 'during this period of his life he was indefatigably diligent and insatiably curious; wanting health for violent, and money for expensive pleasures, and having excited in himself very strong desires of intellectual eminence, he spent much of his time over his books; but he read only to store his mind with facts and images, seizing all that his authors presented with undistinguishing voracity, and with an appetite for knowledge too eager to be nice.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] andrew corbet, according to hawkins. corbet had entered pembroke college in . dr. swinfen, johnson's god-father, was a member of the college. i find the name of a swinfen on the books in . [ ] in the caution book of pembroke college are found the two following entries:-- 'oct. , . recd. then of mr. samuel johnson commr. of pem. coll. ye summ of seven pounds for his caution, which is to remain in ye hands of ye bursars till ye said mr. johnson shall depart ye said college leaving ye same fully discharg'd. recd. by me, john ratcliff, bursar.' 'march , . at a convention of the master and fellows to settle the accounts of the caution it appear'd that the persons accounts underwritten stood thus at their leaving the college: caution not repay'd mr. johnson £ battells not discharg'd mr. johnson £ mr. carlyle is in error in describing johnson as a servitor. he was a commoner as the above entry shows. though he entered on oct. , he did not matriculate till dec. . it was on palm sunday of this same year that rousseau left geneva, and so entered upon his eventful career. goldsmith was born eleven days after johnson entered (nov. , ). reynolds was five years old. burke was born before johnson left oxford. [ ] he was in his twentieth year. he was born on sept. , , and was therefore nineteen. he was somewhat late in entering. in his _life of ascham_ he says, 'ascham took his bachelor's degree in , in the eighteenth year of his age; a time of life at which it is more common now to enter the universities than to take degrees.' johnson's _works_, vi. . it was just after johnson's entrance that the two wesleys began to hold small devotional meetings at oxford. [ ] builders were at work in the college during all his residence. 'july , . about a quarter of a year since they began to build a new chapel for pembroke coll. next to slaughter lane.' hearne's _remains_, iii. . [ ] _athen. oxon_. edit. , i. . boswell. [ ] johnson would oftener risk the payment of a small fine than attend his lectures.... upon occasion of one such imposition he said to jorden:--"sir, you have sconced [fined] me two pence for non-attendance at a lecture not worth a penny." hawkins's _johnson_, p. . a passage in whitefield's _diary_ shows that the sconce was often greater. he once neglected to give in the weekly theme which every saturday had to be given to the tutor in the hall 'when the bell rang.' he was fined half-a-crown. tyerman's _whitefield_, i. . in my time ( - ) at pembroke college every saturday when the bell rang we gave in our piece of latin prose--themes were things of the past. [ ] this was on nov. , o.s., or nov. , n.s.--a very early time for ice to bear. the first mention of frost that i find in the newspapers of that winter is in the _weekly journal_ for nov. , o.s.; where it is stated that 'the passage by land and water [i.e. the thames] is now become very dangerous by the snow, frost, and ice.' the record of meteorological observations began a few years later. [ ] oxford, th march, . boswell. [ ] mr. croker discovers a great difference between this account and that which johnson gave to mr. warton (_post_, under july , ). there is no need to have recourse, with mr. croker, 'to an ear spoiled by flattery.' a very simple explanation may be found. the accounts refer to different hours of the same day. johnson's 'stark insensibility' belonged to the morning, and his 'beating heart' to the afternoon. he had been impertinent before dinner, and when he was sent for after dinner 'he expected a sharp rebuke.' [ ] it ought to be remembered that dr. johnson was apt, in his literary as well as moral exercises, to overcharge his defects. dr. adams informed me, that he attended his tutors lectures, and also the lectures in the college hall, very regularly. boswell. [ ] early in every november was kept 'a great gaudy [feast] in the college, when the master dined in publick, and the juniors (by an ancient custom they were obliged to comply with) went round the fire in the hall.' philipps's _diary, notes and queries_, nd s., x. . we can picture to ourselves among the juniors in november , samuel johnson, going round the fire with the others. here he heard day after day the latin grace which camden had composed for the society. 'i believe i can repeat it,' johnson said at st. andrew's, 'which he did.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] seven years before johnson's time, on nov. , 'mr. peyne, bachelor of arts, made an oration in the hall suitable to the day.' philipps's _diary_. [ ] boswell forgot johnson's criticism on milton's exercises on this day. 'some of the exercises on gunpowder treason might have been spared.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] it has not been preserved. there are in the college library four of his compositions, two of verse and two of prose. one of the copies of verse i give _post_, under july , . both have been often printed. as his prose compositions have never been published i will give one:-- 'mea nec falernae temperant vites, neque formiani pocula colles.' 'quaedam minus attente spectata absurda videntur, quae tamen penitus perspecta rationi sunt consentanea. non enim semper facta per se, verum ratio occasioque faciendi sunt cogitanda. deteriora ei offerre cui meliorum ingens copia est, cui non ridiculum videtur? quis sanus hirtam agrestemque vestem lucullo obtulisset, cujus omnia fere serum opificia, omnia parmae vellera, omnes tyri colores latuerunt? hoc tamen fecisse horatium non puduit, quo nullus urbanior, nullus procerum convictui magis assuetus. maecenatem scilicet nôrat non quaesiturum an meliora vina domi posset bibere, verum an inter domesticos quenquam propensiori in se animo posset invenire. amorem, non lucrum, optavit patronus ille munifentissimus (_sic_). pocula licet vino minus puro implerentur, satis habuit, si hospitis vultus laetitia perfusus sinceram puramque amicitiam testaretur. ut ubi poetam carmine celebramus, non fastidit, quod ipse melius posset scribere, verum poema licet non magni facit (_sic_), amorem scriptoris libenter amplectitur, sic amici munuscula animum gratum testantia licet parvi sint, non nisi a superbo et moroso contemnentur. deos thuris fumis indigere nemo certè unquam credidit, quos tamen iis gratos putarunt, quia homines se non beneficiorum immemores his testimoniis ostenderunt.' johnson. [ ] 'the accidental perusal of some latin verses gained addison the patronage of dr. lancaster, afterwards provost of queen's college, by whose recommendation he was elected into magdalen college as a demy' [a scholar]. johnson's _works_, vii. . johnson's verses gained him nothing but 'estimation.' [ ] he is reported to have said:--'the writer of this poem will leave it a question for posterity, whether his or mine be the original.' hawkins, p. . [ ] 'a miscellany of poems by several hands. published by j. husbands, a.m., fellow of pembroke college, oxon., oxford. printed by leon. lichfield, near the east-gate, in the year mdccxxxi.' among the subscribers i notice the name of richard savage, esq., for twenty copies. it is very doubtful whether he paid for one. pope did not subscribe. johnson's poem is thus mentioned in the preface:--'the translation of mr. pope's messiah was deliver'd to his tutor as a college exercise by mr. johnson, a commoner of pembroke college in oxford, and 'tis hoped will be no discredit to the excellent original.' [ ] see _post_, under july , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] _poetical review of the literary and moral character of dr. johnson,_ by john courtenay, esq., m.p. boswell. [ ] hector, in his account of johnson's early life, says:--'after a long absence from lichfield, when he returned, i was apprehensive of something wrong in his constitution which might either impair his intellect or endanger his life; but, thanks to almighty god, my fears have proved false.' hawkins, p. . the college books show that johnson was absent but one week in the long vacation of . it is by no means unlikely that he went to lichfield in that week to consult dr. swinfen about his health. in that case his first attack, when he tried to overcome the malady by frequently walking to birmingham, must have been at an earlier date. in his time students often passed the vacation at the university. the following table shows the number of graduates and undergraduates in residence in pembroke college at the end of each fourth week, from june to december :-- members in residence. june , . . . july , " . . . aug. , " . . . sept. , " . . . oct. , " . . . nov. , " . . . dec. , " . . . at christmas there were still sixteen men left in the college. that under a zealous tutor the vacation was by no means a time of idleness is shown by a passage in wesley's _journal_, in which he compares the scotch universities with the english. 'in scotland,' he writes, 'the students all come to their several colleges in november, and return home in may. so they _may_ study five months in the year, and lounge all the rest! o where was the common sense of those who instituted such colleges? in the english colleges everyone _may_ reside all the year, as all my pupils did; and i should have thought myself little better than a highwayman if i had not lectured them every day in the year but sundays.' wesley's _journal_, iv. . johnson lived to see oxford empty in the long vacation. writing on aug. , , he said:--'the place is now a sullen solitude.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] johnson, perhaps, was thinking of himself when he thus criticised the character of sir roger de coverley. 'the variable weather of the mind, the flying vapours of incipient madness, which from time to time cloud reason without eclipsing it, it requires so much nicety to exhibit that addison seems to have been deterred from prosecuting his own design.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] writing in his old age to hector, he said,--'my health has been from my twentieth year such as has seldom afforded me a single day of ease' (_post_, under march , ). hawkins writes, that he once told him 'that he knew not what it was to be totally free from pain.' hawkins, p. . [ ] see _post_, oct. , , note. [ ] in the _rambler_, no. , he pointed out 'how much happiness is gained, and how much misery escaped, by frequent and violent agitation of the body.' see _post_, july , , for his remedies against melancholy. [ ] thirty-two miles in all. southey mentions that in , the wesleys, to save the more money for the poor, began to perform their journeys on foot. he adds,--'it was so little the custom in that age for men in their rank of life to walk any distance, as to make them think it a discovery that four or five-and-twenty miles are an easy and safe day's journey.' southey's _wesley_, i. . [ ] boswell himself suffered from hypochondria. he seems at times to boast of it, as dogberry boasted of his losses; so that johnson had some reason for writing to him with seventy, as if he were 'affecting it from a desire of distinction.' _post_, july , . [ ] johnson on april , , recommended boswell to read this book, and again on july of the same year. [ ] on dec. , , writing of the poet collins, who was either mad or close upon it, he said,--'poor dear collins! i have often been near his state.' wooll's _warton_, p. . 'i inherited,' johnson said, 'a vile melancholy from my father, which has made me mad all my life, at least not sober.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . 'when i survey my past life,' he wrote in , 'i discover nothing but a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body and disturbances of the mind very near to madness.' _pr. and med_. p. . reynolds recorded that 'what dr. johnson said a few days before his death of his disposition to insanity was no new discovery to those who were intimate with him.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . see also _post_ sept. , . [ ] ch. . [ ] 'of the uncertainties of our present state, the most dreadful and alarming is the uncertain continuance of reason.' _rasselas_, ch. . [ ] boswell refers to mrs. piozzi (_anec_., pp. , ), and hawkins (_life_, pp. - ). [ ] 'quick in these seeds is might of fire and birth of heavenly place.' morris, _aeneids_, vi. . [ ] on easter sunday during service some pieces of stone from the spire of st. mary's fell on the roof of the church. the congregation, thinking that the steeple was coming down, in their alarm broke through the windows. johnson, we may well believe, witnessed the scene. the church was pulled down, and the new one was opened in dec. . harwood's _lichfield_, p. . [ ] 'sept. , . i have gone voluntarily to church on the week day but few times in my life. i think to mend. april , . i hope in time to take pleasure in public worship. april , . i have this year omitted church on most sundays, intending to supply the deficience in the week. so that i owe twelve attendances on worship. i will make no more such superstitious stipulations, which entangle the mind with unbidden obligations.' _pr. and med_. pp. , , . in the following passage in the _life of milton_, johnson, no doubt, is thinking of himself:--'in the distribution of his hours there was no hour of prayer, either solitary or with his household; omitting public prayers he omitted all.... that he lived without prayer can hardly be affirmed; his studies and meditations were an habitual prayer. the neglect of it in his family was probably a fault for which he condemned himself, and which he intended to correct, but that death as too often happens, intercepted his reformation.' johnson's _works_, vii. . see _post_, oct. , . [ ] we may compare with this a passage in verecundulus's letter in _the rambler_, no. :--'though many among my fellow students [at the university] took the opportunity of a more remiss discipline to gratify their passions, yet virtue preserved her natural superiority, and those who ventured to neglect were not suffered to insult her.' oxford at this date was somewhat wayward in her love for religion. whitefield records:--'i had no sooner received the sacrament publicly on a week-day at st. mary's, but i was set up as a mark for all the polite students that knew me to shoot at. by this they knew that i was commenced methodist, for though there is a sacrament at the beginning of every term, at which all, especially the seniors, are by statute obliged to be present, yet so dreadfully has that once faithful city played the harlot, that very few masters, and no undergraduates but the methodists attended upon it. i daily underwent some contempt at college. some have thrown dirt at me; others by degrees took away their pay from me.' tyerman's _whitefield_, i. . story, the quaker, visiting oxford in , says, 'of all places wherever i have been the scholars of oxford were the rudest, most giddy, and unruly rabble, and most mischievous.' story's _journal_, p. . [ ] john wesley, who was also at oxford, writing of about this same year, says:--'meeting now with mr. law's _christian perfection_ and _serious call_ the light flowed in so mightily upon my soul that everything appeared in a new view.' wesley's _journal_, i. . whitefield writes:--'before i went to the university, i met with mr. law's _serious call_, but had not then money to purchase it. soon after my coming up to the university, seeing a small edition of it in a friend's hand i soon procured it. god worked powerfully upon my soul by that and his other excellent treatise upon christian perfection.' tyerman's _whitefield_, i. . johnson called the _serious call_ 'the finest piece of hortatory theology in any language;' _post_, . a few months before his death he said:--'william law wrote the best piece of parenetic divinity; but william law was no reasoner;' _post_, june , . law was the tutor of gibbon's father, and he died in the house of the historian's aunt. in describing the _serious call_ gibbon says:--'his precepts are rigid, but they are founded on the gospel; his satire is sharp, but it is drawn from the knowledge of human life; and many of his portraits are not unworthy of the pen of la bruyère. if he finds a spark of piety in his reader's mind he will soon kindle it to a flame.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] mrs. piozzi has given a strange fantastical account of the original of dr. johnson's belief in our most holy religion. 'at the age of ten years his mind was disturbed by scruples of infidelity, which preyed upon his spirits, and made him very uneasy, the more so, as he revealed his uneasiness to none, being naturally (as he said) of a sullen temper, and reserved disposition. he searched, however, diligently, but fruitlessly, for evidences of the truth of revelation; and, at length, _recollecting_ a book he had once seen [_i suppose at five years old_] in his father's shop, intitled _de veritate religionis_, etc., he began to think himself _highly culpable_ for neglecting such a means of information, and took himself severely to task for this sin, adding many acts of voluntary, and, to others, unknown _penance_. the first opportunity which offered, of course, he seized the book with avidity; but, on examination, _not finding himself scholar enough to peruse its contents_, set his heart at rest; and not thinking to enquire whether there were any english books written on the subject, followed his usual amusements and _considered his conscience as lightened of a crime_. he redoubled his diligence to learn the language that contained the information he most wished for; but from the pain which _guilt [namely having omitted to read what he did not understand_,] had given him, he now began to deduce the soul's immortality [_a sensation of pain in this world being an unquestionable proof of existence in another_], which was the point that belief first stopped at; _and from that moment resolving to be a christian_, became one of the most zealous and pious ones our nation ever produced.' _anecdotes_, p. . this is one of the numerous misrepresentations of this lively lady, which it is worth while to correct; for if credit should be given to such a childish, irrational, and ridiculous statement of the foundation of dr. johnson's faith in christianity, how little credit would be due to it. mrs. piozzi seems to wish, that the world should think dr. johnson also under the influence of that easy logick, _stet pro ratione voluntas_. boswell. on april , , johnson said:--'religion had dropped out of my mind. it was at an early part of my life. sickness brought it back, and i hope i have never lost it since.' most likely it was the sickness in the long vacation of mentioned _ante_, p. . [ ] in his _life of milton_, writing of _paradise lost_, he says:--'but these truths are too important to be new; they have been taught to our infancy; they have mingled with our solitary thoughts and familiar conversations, and are habitually interwoven with the whole texture of life.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] acts xvi. . [ ] sept. , old style, or sept. , new style. [ ] 'he that peruses shakespeare looks round alarmed, and starts to find himself alone.' johnson's _works_, v. . 'i was many years ago so shocked by cordelia's death, that i know not whether i ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till i undertook to revise them as an editor.' ib. p. . [ ] he told mr. windham that he had never read through the odyssey completely. windham's _diary_, p. . at college, he said, he had been 'very idle and neglectful of his studies.' ib. [ ] 'it may be questioned whether, except his bible, he ever read a book entirely through. late in life, if any man praised a book in his presence, he was sure to ask, 'did you read it through?' if the answer was in the affirmative, he did not seem willing to believe it.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . it would be easy to show that johnson read many books right through, though, according to mrs. piozzi, he asked, 'was there ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers excepting don quixote, robinson crusoe, and the pilgrim's progress?' piozzi's anec., p. . nevertheless in murphy's statement there is some truth. see what has been just stated by boswell, that 'he hardly ever read any poem to an end,' and _post_, april , and june , . to him might be applied his own description of barretier:--'he had a quickness of apprehension and firmness of memory which enabled him to read with incredible rapidity, and at the same time to retain what he read, so as to be able to recollect and apply it. he turned over volumes in an instant, and selected what was useful for his purpose.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] see _post_, june , . mr. windham (_diary_, p. ) records the following 'anecdote of johnson's first declamation at college; having neglected to write it till the morning of his being (sic) to repeat it, and having only one copy, he got part of it by heart while he was walking into the hall, and the rest he supplied as well as he could extempore.' mrs. piozzi, recording the same ancedote, says that 'having given the copy into the hand of the tutor who stood to receive it as he passed, he was obliged to begin by chance, and continue on how he could.... "a prodigious risk, however," said some one. "not at all," exclaims johnson, "no man, i suppose, leaps at once into deep water who does not know how to swim."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] he told dr. burney that he never wrote any of his works that were printed, twice over. dr. burney's wonder at seeing several pages of his _lives of the poets_, in manuscript, with scarce a blot or erasure, drew this observation from him. malone. 'he wrote forty-eight of the printed octavo pages of the _life of savage_ at a sitting' (_post_, feb. ), and a hundred lines of the _vanity of human wishes_ in a day (_post_, under feb. , ). the _ramblers_ were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed (_post_, beginning of ). in the second edition, however, he made corrections. 'he composed _rasselas_ in the evenings of one week' (_post_, under january, ). '_the false alarm_ was written between eight o'clock on wednesday night and twelve o'clock on thursday night.' piozzi's _anec_., p. . '_the patriot_' he says, 'was called for on friday, was written on saturday' (_post_, nov. , ). [ ] 'when mr. johnson felt his fancy, or fancied he felt it, disordered, his constant recurrence was to the study of arithmetic.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . 'ethics, or figures, or metaphysical reasoning, was the sort of talk he most delighted in;' ib. p. . see _post_, sept. , . [ ] 'sept. , , i resolve to study the scriptures; i hope in the original languages. verses every sunday will nearly comprise the scriptures in a year.' _pr. and med_. p. . ' , st sunday after easter. the plan which i formed for reading the scriptures was to read verses in the old testament, and in the new, every week;' ib. p. . [ ] 'august , . this being the day on which the late queen anne died, and on which george, duke and elector of brunswick, usurped the english throne, there was very little rejoicing in oxford.... there was a sermon at st. marie's by dr. panting, master of pembroke.... he is an honest gent. his sermon took no notice, at most very little, of the duke of brunswick.' hearne's _remains_, ii. . [ ] the outside wall of the gateway-tower forms an angle with the wall of the master's house, so that any one sitting by the open window and speaking in a strong emphatic voice might have easily been overheard. [ ] goldsmith did go to padua, and stayed there some months. forster's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] i had this anecdote from dr. adams, and dr. johnson confirmed it. bramston, in his _man of taste_, has the same thought: 'sure, of all blockheads, scholars are the worst.' boswell. johnson's meaning, however, is, that a scholar who is a blockhead must be the worst of all blockheads, because he is without excuse. but bramston, in the assumed character of an ignorant coxcomb, maintains that _all_ scholars are blockheads on account of their scholarship. j. boswell, jun. there is, i believe, a spanish proverb to the effect that, 'to be an utter fool a man must know latin.' a writer in _notes and queries_ ( th s. xii. ) suggests that johnson had in mind acts xvii. . [ ] it was the practice in his time for a servitor, by order of the master, to go round to the rooms of the young men, and knocking at the door to enquire if they were within; and if no answer was returned to report them absent. johnson could not endure this intrusion, and would frequently be silent, when the utterance of a word would have ensured him from censure, and would join with others of the young men in the college in hunting, as they called it, the servitor who was thus diligent in his duty, and this they did with the noise of pots and candlesticks, singing to the tune of chevy chase the words in the old ballad,-- 'to drive the deer with hound and horn!' _hawkins_, p. . whitefield, writing of a few years later, says:--'at this time satan used to terrify me much, and threatened to punish me if i discovered his wiles. it being my duty, as servitor, in my turn to knock at the gentlemen's rooms by ten at night, to see who were in their rooms, i thought the devil would appear to me every stair i went up.' tyerman's _whitefield_, i. . [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] perhaps his disregard of all authority was in part due to his genius, still in its youth. in his _life of lyttelton_ he says:--'the letters [lyttelton's _persian letters_] have something of that indistinct and headstrong ardour for liberty which a man of genius always catches when he enters the world, and always suffers to cool as he passes forward.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] dr. hall [formerly master of the college] says, 'certainly not all.' croker. [ ] 'i would leave the interest of the fortune i bequeathed to a college to my relations or my friends for their lives. it is the same thing to a college, which is a permanent society, whether it gets the money now or twenty years hence; and i would wish to make my relations or friends feel the benefit of it;' _post_, april , . hawkins (_life_, p. ,) says that 'he meditated a devise of his house to the corporation of that city for a charitable use, but, it being freehold he said, "i cannot live a twelvemonth, and the last statute of mortmain stands in my way."' the same statute, no doubt, would have hindered the bequest to the college. [ ] garrick refused to act one of hawkins's plays. the poet towards the end of a long letter which he signed,--'your much dissatisfied humble servant,' said:--'after all, sir, i do not desire to come to an open rupture with you. i wish not to exasperate, but to convince; and i tender you once more my friendship and my play.' _garrick corres_. ii. . see _post_, april , . [ ] see nash's _history of worcestershire_, vol. i. p. . boswell. to the list should be added, francis beaumont, the dramatic writer; sir thomas browne, whose life johnson wrote; sir james dyer, chief justice of the king's bench, lord chancellor harcourt, john pym, francis rous, the speaker of cromwell's parliament, and bishop bonner. wright. some of these men belonged to the ancient foundation of broadgates hall, which in was converted into pembroke college. it is strange that boswell should have passed over sir thomas browne's name. johnson in his life of browne says that he was 'the first man of eminence graduated from the new college, to which the zeal or gratitude of those that love it most can wish little better than that it may long proceed as it began.' johnson's _works_, vi. . to this list nash adds the name of the revd. richard graves, author of _the spiritual quixote_, who took his degree of b.a. on the same day as whitefield, whom he ridiculed in that romance. [ ] see _post_, oct. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] in his _life of shenstone_ he writes:--'from school shenstone was sent to pembroke college in oxford, a society which for half a century has been eminent for english poetry and elegant literature. here it appears that he found delight and advantage; for he continued his name in the book ten years, though he took no degree.' johnson's _works_, viii. . johnson's name would seem to have been in like manner continued for more than eleven years, and perhaps for the same reasons. (_ante_, p. note.) hannah more was at oxford in june , during one of johnson's visits to dr. adams. 'you cannot imagine,' she writes, 'with what delight dr. johnson showed me every part of his own college.... after dinner he begged to conduct me to see the college; he would let no one show it me but himself. "this was my room; this shenstone's." then, after pointing out all the rooms of the poets who had been of his college, "in short," said he, "we were a nest of singing-birds. here we walked, there we played at cricket." [it may be doubted whether he ever played.] he ran over with pleasure the history of the juvenile days he passed there. when we came into the common room, we spied a fine large print of johnson, framed and hung up that very morning, with this motto: "and is not johnson ours, himself a host;" under which stared you in the face, "from miss more's _sensibility_"' hannah more's _memoirs_, i. . at the end of 'the ludicrous analysis of pocockius' quoted by johnson in the _life of edmund smith_ are the following lines:--'subito ad batavos proficiscor, lauro ab illis donandus. prius vero pembrochienses voco ad certamen poeticum.' smith was at christ church. he seems to be mocking the neighbouring 'nest of singing-birds.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] taylor matriculated on feb. , . mr. croker in his note has confounded him with another john taylor who matriculated more than a year later. richard west, writing of christ church in , says:--'consider me very seriously here in a strange country, inhabited by things that call themselves doctors and masters of arts; a country flowing with syllogisms and ale, where horace and virgil are equally unknown.' gray's _letters_, ii. i. [ ] 'si toga sordidula est et rupta calceus alter pelle patet.' 'or if the shoe be ript, or patches put.' dryden, _juvenal_, iii. . johnson in his _london_, in describing 'the blockhead's insults,' while he mentions 'the tattered cloak,' passes over the ript shoe. perhaps the wound had gone too deep to his generous heart for him to bear even to think on it. [ ] 'yet some have refused my bounties, more offended with my quickness to detect their wants than pleased with my readiness to succour them.' _rasselas_, ch. . 'his [savage's] distresses, however afflictive, never dejected him; in his lowest state he wanted not spirit to assert the natural dignity of wit, and was always ready to repress that insolence which the superiority of fortune incited; ... he never admitted any gross familiarities, or submitted to be treated otherwise than as an equal.... his clothes were worn out; and he received notice that at a coffee-house some clothes and linen were left for him.... but though the offer was so far generous, it was made with some neglect of ceremonies, which mr. savage so much resented that he refused the present, and declined to enter the house till the clothes that had been designed for him were taken away.' johnson's _works_, viii. and . [ ] 'haud facile emergunt quorum virtutibus obstat res angusta domi.' juvenal, _sat_. iii. . paraphrased by johnson in his _london_, 'slow rises worth by poverty depressed.' [ ] cambridge thirty-six years later neglected parr as oxford neglected johnson. both these men had to leave the university through poverty. there were no open scholarships in those days. [ ] yet his college bills came to only some eight shillings a week. as this was about the average amount of an undergraduate's bill it is clear that, so far as food went, he lived, in spite of mr. carlyle's assertion, as well as his fellow-students. [ ] mr. croker states that 'an examination of the college books proves that johnson, who entered on the st october, , remained there, even during the vacations, to the th december, , when he personally left the college, and never returned--though his _name_ remained on the books till th october, .' i have gone into this question at great length in my _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. . i am of opinion that mr. croker's general conclusion is right. the proof of residence is established, and alone established, by the entries in the buttery books. now these entries show that johnson, with the exception of the week in october ending on the th, was in residence till december , . he seems to have returned for a week in march , and again for a week in the following september. on three other weeks there is a charge against him of fivepence in the books. mr. croker has made that darker which was already dark enough by confounding, as i have shewn, two john taylors who both matriculated at christ church. boswell's statement no doubt is precise, but in this he followed perhaps the account given by hawkins. he would have been less likely to discover hawkins's error from the fact that, as johnson's name was for about three years on the college books, he was so long, in name at least, a member of the college. had boswell seen johnson's letter to mr. hickman, quoted by mr. croker (croker's _boswell_, p. ), he would at once have seen that johnson could not have remained at college for a little more than three years. for within three years all but a day of his entrance at pembroke, he writes to mr. hickman from lichfield, '_as i am yet unemployed_, i hope you will, if anything should offer, remember and recommend, sir, your humble servant, sam. johnson.' in boswell's _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ (aug. , ) there is a very perplexing passage bearing on johnson's residence at college. 'we talked of whitefield. he said he was at the same college with him, and knew him before he began to be better than other people.' now johnson, as boswell tells us, read this journal in manuscript. the statement therefore seems to be well-established indeed. yet whitefield did not matriculate till nov. , , a full year after johnson, according to boswell, had left oxford. we are told that, when johnson was living at birmingham, he borrowed lobo's _abyssinia_ from the library of pembroke college. it is probable enough that a man who frequently walked from lichfield to birmingham and back would have trudged all the way to oxford to fetch the book. in that case he might have seen whitefield. but thomas warton says that 'the first time of his being at oxford after quitting the university was in ' (_post_, under july , ). [ ] 'march , - . yesterday in a convocation mr. wm. jorden of pembroke coll. was elected the univ. of oxford rector of astocke in com. wilts (which belongs to a roman catholic family).' hearne's _remains_, iii. . his fellowship was filled up on dec. , . boswell's statement therefore is inaccurate. if johnson remained at college till nov. , he would have really been for at least ten months adams's pupil. we may assume that as his name remained on the books after jorden left so he was _nominally_ transferred to adams. it is worthy of notice that thomas warton, in the account that he gives of johnson's visit to oxford in , says:--'he much regretted that his _first_ tutor was dead.' [ ] according to hawkins (_life_, pp. , and _post_, dec. , ) johnson's father was at one time a bankrupt. johnson, in the epitaph that he wrote for him (_post_, dec. , ) describes him as 'bibliopola admodum peritus,' but 'rebus adversis diu conflictatus.' he certainly did not die a bankrupt, as is shown by his leaving property to his widow and son, and also by the following ms. letter, that is preserved with two others of the same kind in pembroke college. ashby, april , . good sr., i must truble you again, my sister who desiurs her survis to you, & begs you will be so good if you can to pravale with mr. wumsley to paye you the little money due to her you may have an opertunity to speak to him & it will be a great truble for me to have a jerney for it when if he pleasd he might paye it you, it is a poore case she had but little left by mr. johnson but his books (not but he left her all he had) & those sold at a poore reat, and be kept out of so small a sume by a gentleman so well able to paye, if you will doe yr best for the widow will be varey good in you, which will oblige yr reall freund james bate. to mr. john newton a sider seller at litchfield. pd. £ to mr. newton. in another hand is written, to gilbert walmesley esq. at lichfield. and in a third hand, pd. £ to mr. newton. the exact amount claimed, as is shewn by the letter, dated jan. , , was £ s. d. there is a yet earlier letter demanding payment of £ s. d. as 'due to me' for books, signed d. johnson, dated swarkstone, aug. , . it must be the same account. perhaps d. johnson was the executor. he writes from ashby, where michael johnson had a branch business. but i know of no other mention of him or of james bate. john newton was the father of the bishop of bristol. _post_, june , , and bishop newton's _works_, i. i. [ ] johnson, in a letter to dr. taylor, dated aug. , , advised him, in some trouble that he had with his wife, 'to consult our old friend mr. howard. his profession has acquainted him with matrimonial law, and he is in himself a cool and wise man.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . see _post_, march , , for mention of his son. [ ] see _post_, dec. , , note. robert levett, made famous by johnson's lines (_post_, jan. , ), was not of this family. [ ] mr. warton informs me, 'that this early friend of johnson was entered a commoner of trinity college, oxford, aged seventeen, in ; and is the authour of many latin verse translations in the _gent. mag_. (vol. xv. ). one of them is a translation of: 'my time, o ye muses, was happily spent.' &c. he died aug, , , and a monument to his memory has been erected in the cathedral of lichfield, with an inscription written by mr. seward, one of the prebendaries. boswell. [ ] johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see _post_, , note at end of mr. langton's 'collection.' [ ] see _post_, . [ ] see _post_ april , . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that in august, (? ), johnson went to appleby, in leicestershire, to apply for the mastership of appleby school. this was after he and his wife had removed to london. it is likely that he visited ashbourne. [ ] 'old meynell' is mentioned, _post_, , in mr. langton's 'collection,' as the author of 'the observation, "for anything i see, foreigners are fools;"' and 'mr. meynell,' _post_, april , , as saying that 'the chief advantage of london is, that a man is always _so near his burrow_.' [ ] see _post_, under march , , note, and april , . mr. alleyne fitzherbert was created lord st. helens. [ ] see _post_, , end of mr. langton's 'collection.' [ ] johnson, writing to dr. taylor on july , , said, 'i find myself very unwilling to take up a pen, only to tell my friends that i am well, and indeed i never did exchange letters regularly but with dear miss boothby.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . at the end of the _piozzi letters_ are given some of his letters to her. they were republished together with her letters to him in _an account of the life of dr. samuel johnson_, . [ ] the words of sir john hawkins, p. . boswell. 'when mr. thrale once asked johnson which had been the happiest period of his past life, he replied, "it was that year in which he spent one whole evening with molly aston. that, indeed," said he, "was not happiness, it was rapture; but the thoughts of it sweetened the whole year." i must add that the evening alluded to was not passed tête-à-tête, but in a select company of which the present lord kilmorey was one. "molly," says dr. johnson, "was a beauty and a scholar, and a wit and a whig; and she talked all in praise of liberty; and so i made this epigram upon her--she was the loveliest creature i ever saw-- 'liber ut esse velim suasisti pulchra maria; ut maneam liber--pulchra maria vale.' 'will it do this way in english, sir,' said i:-- 'persuasions to freedom fall oddly from you; if freedom we seek--fair maria, adieu!' 'it will do well enough,' replied he; 'but it is translated by a lady, and the ladies never loved molly aston.'" piozzi's _anec_., p. . see _post_, may , . [ ] sir thomas aston, bart., who died in january, - , left one son, named thomas also, and eight daughters. of the daughters, catherine married johnson's friend, the hon. henry hervey [_post, ]; margaret, gilbert walmsley. another of these ladies married the rev. mr. gastrell [the man who cut down shakspeare's mulberry tree, _post_, march , ]; mary, or _molly_ aston, as she was usually called, became the wife of captain brodie of the navy. malone. [ ] luke vi. . [ ] if this was in it was on the morrow of the day on which he received his share of his father's property, _ante_, p. . a letter published in _notes and queries_, th s. x. , shews that for a short time he was tutor to the son of mr. whitby of heywood. [ ] bishop hurd does not praise blackwall, but the rev. mr. budworth, headmaster of the grammar school at brewood, who had himself been bred under blackwall. malone. mr. nichols relates (_post_, dec. ) that johnson applied for the post of assistant to mr. budworth. [ ] see _gent. mag_. dec. , p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the patron's manners were those of the neighbourhood. hutton, writing of this town in , says,--'the inhabitants set their dogs at me merely because i was a stranger. surrounded with impassable roads, no intercourse with man to humanize the mind, no commerce to smooth their rugged manners, they continue the boors of nature.' _life, of w. hutton_, p. . [ ] it appears from a letter of johnson's to a friend, dated lichfield, july , , that he had left sir wolstan dixie's house recently, before that letter was written. malone. [ ] 'the despicable wretchedness of teaching,' wrote carlyle, in his twenty-fourth year, when he was himself a teacher, 'can be known only to those who have tried it, and to him who made the heart and knows it all. one meets with few spectacles more afflicting than that of a young man with a free spirit, with impetuous though honourable feelings, condemned to waste the flower of his life in such a calling; to fade in it by slow and sure corrosion of discontent; and at last obscurely and unprofitably to leave, with an indignant joy, the miseries of a world which his talents might have illustrated and his virtues adorned. such things have been and will be. but surely in that better life which good men dream of, the spirit of a kepler or a milton will find a more propitious destiny.' conway's _carlyle_, p. . [ ] this newspaper was the _birmingham journal_. in the office of the _birmingham daily post_ is preserved the number (no. ) for may , . it is believed to be the only copy in existence. warren is described by w. hutton (_life_, p. ) as one of the 'three eminent booksellers' in birmingham in . 'his house was "over against the swan tavern," in high street; doubtless in one of the old half-timbered houses pulled down in [ ].' timmins's _dr. johnson in birmingham_, p. . [ ] 'in the month of june , i find him resident in the house of a person named jarvis, at birmingham.' hawkins, p. . his wife's maiden name was jarvis or jervis. [ ] in , hutton, a runaway apprentice, arrived at birmingham. he says,--'i had never seen more than five towns, nottingham, derby, burton, lichfield and walsall. the outskirts of these were composed of wretched dwellings, visibly stamped with dirt and poverty. but the buildings in the exterior of birmingham rose in a style of elegance. thatch, so plentiful in other places, was not to be met with in this. the people possessed a vivacity i had never beheld. i had been among dreamers, but now i saw men awake. their very step along the street showed alacrity. every man seemed to know what he was about. the faces of other men seemed tinctured with an idle gloom; but here with a pleasing alertness. their appearance was strongly marked with the modes of civil life.' _life of w. hutton_, p. . [ ] hutton, in his account of the birmingham riots of , describing the destruction of a mr. taylor's house, says,--'the sons of plunder forgot that the prosperity of birmingham was owing to a dissenter, father to the man whose property they were destroying;' ib. p. . [ ] johnson, it should seem, did not think himself ill-used by warren; for writing to hector on april , , he says,--'what news of poor warren? i have not lost all my kindness for him.' _notes and queries_, th s. iii. . [ ] that it is by no means an exact translation johnson's _preface_ shows. he says that in the dissertations alone an exact translation has been attempted. the rest of the work he describes as an epitome. [ ] in the original, _segued_. [ ] in the original, _zeila_. [ ] lobo, in describing a waterfall on the nile, had said:--'the fall of this mighty stream from so great a height makes a noise that may be heard to a considerable distance; but i could not observe that the neighbouring inhabitants were at all deaf. i conversed with several, and was as easily heard by them as i heard them,' p. . [ ] in the original, _without religion, polity, or articulate language_. [ ] see _rambler_, no. . boswell. johnson in other passages insisted on the high value of curiosity. in this same _rambler_ he says:--'curiosity is one of the permanent and certain characteristics of a vigorous intellect.' in the allegory in _rambler_, no. , he calls curiosity his 'long-loved protectress,' who is known by truth 'among the most faithful of her followers.' in no. he writes:--'curiosity is in great and generous minds the first passion and the last; and perhaps always predominates in proportion to the strength of the contemplative faculties.' in no. he assert that 'he that enlarges his curiosity after the works of nature demonstrably multiplies the inlets to happiness.' [ ] rasselas, _post_, . [ ] hawkins (p. ) gives the following extract from johnson's _annales_:--'friday, august ( ), at night. this day i have trifled away, except that i have attended the school in the morning, i read to-night in roger's sermoms. to-night i began the breakfast law (sic) anew.' [ ] may we not trace a fanciful similarity between politian and johnson? huetius, speaking of paulus pelissonius fontanerius, says, '... in quo natura, ut olim in angelo politiano, deformitarem oris excellentis ingenii præstantia compensavit.' _comment, de reb. ad eum pertin_. edit. amstel. , p. . boswell. in paulus pelissonius fontanerius we have difficulty in detecting mme. de sévigné's friend, pelisson, of whom m. de guilleragues used the phrase, 'qu'il abusait de la permission qu'ont les hommes d'être laids.' see _mme. de sévigné's letter_, jan., . croker. [ ] the book was to contain more than thirty sheets, the price to be two shillings and sixpence at the time of subscribing, and two shillings and sixpence at the delivery of a perfect book in quires. boswell. 'among the books in his library, at the time of his decease, i found a very old and curious edition of the works of politian, which appeared to belong to pembroke college, oxford.' hawkins, p. . see _post_, nov., . in his last work he shews his fondness for modern latin poetry. he says:--'pope had sought for images and sentiments in a region not known to have been explored by many other of the english writers; he had consulted the modern writers of latin poetry, a class of authors whom boileau endeavoured to bring into contempt, and who are too generally neglected.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] a writer in _notes and queries_, st s. xii. , says 'that he has a letter written by nathanael, in which he makes mention of his brother "scarcely using him with common civility," and says, "i believe i shall go to georgia in about a fortnight!"' nathanael died in lichfield in ; see _post_, dec. , , for his epitaph. among the mss. in pembroke college library are bills for books receipted by nath. johnson and by sarah johnson (his mother). she writes like a person of little education. [ ] miss cave, the grand-niece of mr. edward cave, has obligingly shewn me the originals of this and the other letters of dr. johnson, to him, which were first published in the _gent. mag_. [lv. ], with notes by mr. john nichols, the worthy and indefatigable editor of that valuable miscellany, signed n.; some of which i shall occasionally transcribe in the course of this work. boswell. i was able to examine some of these letters while they were still in the possession of one of cave's collateral descendants, and i have in one or two places corrected errors of transcription. [ ] sir john floyer's treatise on cold baths. _gent. mag_. , p. . boswell. this letter shews how uncommon a thing a cold bath was. floyer, after recommending 'a general method of bleeding and purging' before the patient uses cold bathing, continues, 'i have commonly cured the rickets by dipping children of a year old in the bath every morning; and this wonderful effect has encouraged me to dip four boys at lichfield in the font at their baptism, and none have suffered any inconvenience by it.' (for mention of floyer, see _ante_, p. , and _post_, march and july , .) locke, in his _treatise on education_, had recommended cold bathing for children. johnson, in his review of lucas's _essay on waters_ (_post_, ), thus attacks cold bathing:--'it is incident to physicians, i am afraid, beyond all other men, to mistake subsequence for consequence. "the old gentleman," says dr. lucas, "that uses the cold bath, enjoys in return an uninterrupted state of health." this instance does not prove that the cold bath produces health, but only that it will not always destroy it. he is well with the bath, he would have been well without it.' _literary magazine_, p. . [ ] a prize of fifty pounds for the best poem on 'life, death, judgement, heaven, and hell.' see _gent. mag_. vol. iv. p. . n. boswell. 'cave sometimes offered subjects for poems, and proposed prizes for the best performers. the first prize was fifty pounds, for which, being but newly acquainted with wealth, and thinking the influence of fifty pounds extremely great, he expected the first authors of the kingdom to appear as competitors; and offered the allotment of the prize to the universities. but when the time came, no name was seen among the writers that had ever been seen before; the universities and several private men rejected the province of assigning the prize.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] i suspect that johnson wrote 'the castle _inn_, birmingham.' [ ] mrs. piozzi gives the following account of this little composition from dr. johnson's own relation to her, on her inquiring whether it was rightly attributed to him:--'i think it is now just forty years ago, that a young fellow had a sprig of myrtle given him by a girl he courted, and asked me to write him some verses that he might present her in return. i promised, but forgot; and when he called for his lines at the time agreed on--sit still a moment, (says i) dear mund' [see _post_, may , , for johnson's 'way of contracting the names of his friends'], 'and i'll fetch them thee--so stepped aside for five minutes, and wrote the nonsense you now keep such a stir about.' _anec_. p. . in my first edition i was induced to doubt the authenticity of this account, by the following circumstantial statement in a letter to me from miss seward, of lichfield:--'_i know_ those verses were addressed to lucy porter, when he was enamoured of her in his boyish days, two or three years before he had seen her mother, his future wife. he wrote them at my grandfather's, and gave them to lucy in the presence of my mother, to whom he showed them on the instant. she used to repeat them to me, when i asked her for _the verses dr. johnson gave her on a sprig of myrtle, which he had stolen or begged from her bosom_. we all know honest lucy porter to have been incapable of the mean vanity of applying to herself a compliment not _intended_ for her.' such was this lady's statement, which i make no doubt she supposed to be correct; but it shews how dangerous it is to trust too implicitly to traditional testimony and ingenious inference; for mr. hector has lately assured me that mrs. piozzi's account is in this instance accurate, and that he was the person for whom johnson wrote those verses, which have been erroneously ascribed to mr. hammond. i am obliged in so many instances to notice mrs. piozzi's incorrectness of relation, that i gladly seize this opportunity of acknowledging, that however often, she is not always inaccurate. the author having been drawn into a controversy with miss anna seward, in consequence of the preceding statement, (which may be found in the _gent. mag_. vol. liii. and liv.) received the following letter from mr. edmund hector, on the subject: 'dear sir, 'i am sorry to see you are engaged in altercation with a lady, who seems unwilling to be convinced of her errors. surely it would be more ingenuous to acknowledge, than to persevere. 'lately, in looking over some papers i meant to burn, i found the original manuscript of the _myrtle_, with the date on it, , which i have inclosed. 'the true history (which i could swear to) is as follows: mr. morgan graves, the elder brother of a worthy clergyman near bath, with whom i was acquainted, waited upon a lady in this neighbourhood, who at parting presented him the branch. he shewed it me, and wished much to return the compliment in verse. i applied to johnson, who was with me, and in about half an hour dictated the verses which i sent to my friend. 'i most solemnly declare, at that time johnson was an entire stranger to the porter family; and it was almost two years after that i introduced him to the acquaintance of porter, whom i bought my cloaths of. 'if you intend to convince this obstinate woman, and to exhibit to the publick the truth of your narrative, you are at liberty to make what use you please of this statement. 'i hope you will pardon me for taking up so much of your time. wishing you _multos et felices annos_, i shall subscribe myself, 'your obliged humble servant, 'e. hector.' _birmingham_, jan. th, . boswell. for a further account of boswell's controversy with miss seward, see _post_, june , . [ ] see _post_, beginning of , april , , and under dec. , . [ ] see _post_, near end of , note. [ ] in the registry of st. martin's church, birmingham, are the following entries:--'baptisms, nov. , , lucy, daughter of henry porter. jan. , [o. s.], jarvis henry, son of henry porter. burials, aug. , , henry porter of edgbaston.' there were two sons; one, captain porter, who died in (croker's _boswell_, p. ), the other who died in (_post_, nov. , ). [ ] according to malone, reynolds said that 'he had paid attention to johnson's limbs; and far from being unsightly, he deemed them well formed.' prior's _malone_, p. . mrs. piozzi says:--'his stature was remarkably high, and his limbs exceedingly large; his features were strongly marked, and his countenance particularly rugged; though the original complexion had certainly been fair, a circumstance somewhat unusual; his sight was near, and otherwise imperfect; yet his eyes, though of a light-grey colour, were so wild, so piercing, and at times so fierce, that fear was, i believe, the first emotion in the hearts of all his beholders.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see _post_, end of the book, and boswell's _hebrides_, near the beginning. [ ] if johnson wore his own hair at oxford, it must have exposed him to ridicule. graves, the author of _the spiritual quixote_, tells us that shenstone had the courage to wear his own hair, though 'it often exposed him to the ill-natured remarks of people who had not half his sense. after i was elected at all souls, where there was often a party of loungers in the gateway, on my expostulating with mr. shenstone for not visiting me so often as usual, he said, "he was ashamed to face his enemies in the gate."' [ ] see _post_, . [ ] mrs. johnson was born on feb. , - . malone. she was married on july , , in st. werburgh's church, derby, as is shewn by the following copy of the marriage register: ' , july , mar'd sam'll johnson of ye parish of st mary's in litchfield, and eliz'th porter of ye parish of st phillip in burmingham.' _notes and queries_, th s. vi. . at the time of their marriage, therefore, she was forty-six, and johnson only two months short of twenty-six. [ ] the author of the _memoirs of the life and writings of dr. johnson_, , p. , says:--'mrs. porter's husband died insolvent, but her settlement was secured. she brought her second husband about seven or eight hundred pounds, a great part of which was expended in fitting up a house for a boarding-school.' that she had some money can be almost inferred from what we are told by boswell and hawkins. how other-wise was johnson able to hire and furnish a large house for his school? boswell says that he had but three pupils. hawkins gives him a few more. 'his number,' he writes (p. ) 'at no time exceeded eight, and of those not all were boarders.' after nearly twenty months of married life, when he went to london, 'he had,' boswell says, 'a little money.' it was not till a year later still that he began to write for the _gent. mag_. if mrs. johnson had not money, how did she and her husband live from july to the spring of ? it could scarcely have been on the profits made from their school. inference, however, is no longer needful, as there is positive evidence. mr. timmins in his _dr. johnson in birmingham_ (p. ) writes:--'my friend, mr. joseph hill, says, a copy of an old deed which has recently come into my hands, shews that a hundred pounds of mrs. johnson's fortune was left in the hands of a birmingham attorney named thomas perks, who died insolvent; and in , a bulky deed gave his creditors _s_. _d_. in the pound. among the creditors for £ were "samuel johnson, gent., and elizabeth his wife, executors of the last will and testament of harry porter, late of birmingham aforesaid, woollen draper, deceased." johnson and his wife were almost the only creditors who did not sign the deed, their seals being left void. it is doubtful, therefore, whether they ever obtained the amount of the composition £ _s_. _d_.' [ ] sir walter scott has recorded lord auchinleck's 'sneer of most sovereign contempt,' while he described johnson as 'a dominie, monan auld dominie; he keeped a schule, and cau'd it an acaadamy.' croker's _boswell_, p. , note. [ ] 'edial is two miles west of lichfield.' harwood's _lichfield_, p. . [ ] johnson in more than one passage in his writings seems to have in mind his own days as a schoolmaster. thus in the _life of milton_ he says:--'this is the period of his life from which all his biographers seem inclined to shrink. they are unwilling that milton should be degraded to a schoolmaster; but, since it cannot be denied that he taught boys, one finds out that he taught for nothing, and another that his motive was only zeal for the propagation of learning and virtue; and all tell what they do not know to be true, only to excuse an act which no wise man will consider as in itself disgraceful. his father was alive; his allowance was not ample; and he supplied its deficiencies by an honest and useful employment.' johnson's _works_, vii. . in the _life of blackmore_ he says:--'in some part of his life, it is not known when, his indigence compelled him to teach a school, an humiliation with which, though it certainly lasted but a little while, his enemies did not forget to reproach him, when he became conspicuous enough to excite malevolence; and let it be remembered for his honour, that to have been once a school-master is the only reproach which all the perspicacity of malice, animated by wit, has ever fixed upon his private life.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] in the original _to teach. seasons, spring_, l. , thomson is speaking, not of masters, but of parents. [ ] in the _life of milton_, johnson records his own experience. 'every man that has ever undertaken to instruct others can tell what slow advances he has been able to make, and how much patience it requires to recall vagrant inattention, to stimulate sluggish indifference, and to rectify absurd misapprehension.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'as masters fondly soothe their boys to read with cakes and sweetmeats.' _francis_, hor. i. _sat_. i. . [ ] as johnson kept garrick much in awe when present, david, when his back was turned, repaid the restraint with ridicule of him and his dulcinea, which should be read with great abatement. percy. he was not consistent in his account, for 'he told mrs. thrale that she was a _little painted puppet_ of no value at all.' 'he made out,' mrs. piozzi continues, 'some comical scenes, by mimicking her in a dialogue he pretended to have overheard. i do not know whether he meant such stuff to be believed or no, it was so comical. the picture i found of her at lichfield was very pretty, and her daughter said it was like. mr. johnson has told me that her hair was eminently beautiful, quite _blonde_ like that of a baby.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] mr. croker points out that in this paper 'there are two separate schemes, the first for a school--the second for the individual studies of some young friend.' [ ] in the _rambler_, no. , johnson, after stating that 'it is observed that our nation has been hitherto remarkably barren of historical genius,' praises knolles, who, he says, 'in his _history of the turks_, has displayed all the excellencies that narration can admit.' [ ] both of them used to talk pleasantly of this their first journey to london. garrick, evidently meaning to embellish a little, said one day in my hearing, 'we rode and tied.' and the bishop of killaloe informed me, that at another time, when johnson and garrick were dining together in a pretty large company, johnson humorously ascertaining the chronology of something, expressed himself thus: 'that was the year when i came to london with two-pence half-penny in my pocket.' garrick overhearing him, exclaimed, 'eh? what do you say? with two-pence half-penny in your pocket?'--johnson, 'why yes; when i came with two-pence half-penny in _my_ pocket, and thou, davy, with three half-pence in thine.' boswell. [ ] see _gent. mag_., xxiv. . [ ] mr. colson was first master of the free school at rochester. in he was appointed lucasian professor of mathematics at cambridge. malone. mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that 'by gelidus the philosopher (_rambler_, no. ), johnson meant to represent colson.' [ ] this letter is printed in the _garrick corres_. i. . there we read _i doubt not_. [ ] one curious anecdote was communicated by himself to mr. john nichols. mr. wilcox, the bookseller, on being informed by him that his intention was to get his livelihood as an authour, eyed his robust frame attentively, and with a significant look, said, 'you had better buy a porter's knot.' he however added, 'wilcox was one of my best friends.' boswell. hawkins (_life_, p. ) states that johnson and garrick had soon exhausted their small stock of money in london, and that on garrick's suggestion they applied for a loan to wilcox, of whom he had a slight knowledge. 'representing themselves to him, as they really were, two young men, friends and travellers from the same place, and just arrived with a view to settle here, he was so moved with their artless tale, that on their joint note he advanced them all that their modesty would permit them to ask (five pounds), which was soon after punctually repaid.' perhaps johnson was thinking of himself when he recorded the advice given by cibber to fenton, 'when the tragedy of mariamne was shewn to cibber, it was rejected by him, with the additional insolence of advising fenton to engage himself in some employment of honest labour, by which he might obtain that support which he could never hope from his poetry. the play was acted at the other theatre; and the brutal petulance of cibber was confuted, though perhaps not shamed, by general applause.' johnson's _works_, viii. . adam smith in the _wealth of nations_ (book i. ch. ) says that 'the difference between the most dissimilar characters, between a philosopher and a common street-porter, for example, seems to arise not so much from nature, as from habit, custom, and education.' wilcox's shop was in little britain. benjamin franklin, in , lodged next door to him. 'he had,' says franklin (_memoirs_, i. ), 'an immense collection of second-hand books. circulating libraries were not then in use; but we agreed that on certain reasonable terms i might read any of his books.' [ ] bernard lintot (_post_, july , ) died feb. , . _gent. mag_. vi. . this, no doubt, was his son. [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says that being in london in he dined frequently with a club of officers, where they had an excellent dinner at ten-pence. from what he adds it is clear that the tavern-keeper made his profit on the wine. at edinburgh, four years earlier, he and his fellow-students used to get 'at four-pence a-head a very good dinner of broth and beef, and a roast and potatoes every day, with fish three or four times a-week, and all the small beer that was called for till the cloth was removed' (_ib_. p. ). w. hutton, who in opened a very small book-shop in birmingham, for which he paid rent at a shilling a week, says (_life of hutton_, p. ): 'five shillings a week covered every expense; as food, rent, washing, lodging, &c.' he knew how to live wretchedly. [ ] on april , , johnson said: 'early in life i drank wine; for many years i drank none. i then for some years drank a great deal. i then had a severe illness, and left it off, and i have never begun it again.' somewhat the same account is given in boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . roughly speaking, he seems to have been an abstainer from about to at least as late as , and from about to the end of his life. in hawkins (_life_, p. ) describes him as drinking only lemonade 'in a whole night spent in festivity' at the ivy lane club. in he described himself 'as a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has for twenty years diluted his meals with only tea' (johnson's _works_, vi. ). it was, i believe, in his visit to oxford in that 'university college witnessed his drinking three bottles of port without being the worse for it' (_post_, april , ). when he was living in the temple (between - ) he had the frisk with langton and beauclerk when they made a bowl of _bishop_ (_post_, ). on his birthday in , he 'resolved to drink less strong liquors' (_pr. and med_. p. ). in on his visit to devonshire he drank three bottles of wine after supper. this was the only time reynolds had seen him intoxicated. (northcote's _reynolds_, ii. ). in he affected boswell's nerves by keeping him up late to drink port with him (_post_, july , ). on april , , he records: 'from the beginning of this year i have in some measure forborne excess of strong drink' (_pr. and med_. p. ). on easter sunday he records: 'avoided wine' (_id_. p. ). on march , , he is described at cambridge as 'giving mrs. macaulay for his toast, and drinking her in two bumpers.' it was about this time that he had the severe illness (_post_, under oct. , , note). in feb. , boswell found him no longer drinking wine. he shortly returned to it again; for on aug. , , he records, 'i have for some days forborne wine;' and on aug. , 'by abstinence from wine and suppers i obtained sudden and great relief' (_pr. and med_. pp. , ). according to hawkins, johnson said:--'after a ten years' forbearance of every fluid except tea and sherbet, i drank one glass of wine to the health of sir joshua reynolds on the evening of the day on which he was knighted' (hawkins's _johnson's works_ ( ), xi. ). as reynolds was knighted on april , (taylor's _reynolds_, i. ), hawkins's report is grossly inaccurate. in boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , and _post_, march , , we find him abstaining. in he persuaded boswell to be 'a water-drinker upon trial' (_post_, april , ). on april , , 'he was persuaded to drink one glass of claret that he might judge of it, not from recollection.' on march , , boswell found that johnson had lately returned to wine. 'i drink it now sometimes,' he said, 'but not socially.' he seems to have generally abstained however. on april , , he would not join in drinking lichfield ale. on march , , he made some punch for himself, by which in the night he thought 'both his breast and imagination disordered' (_pr. and med_. p. ). in the spring of this year hannah more urged him to take a little wine. 'i can't drink a _little_, child,' he answered; 'therefore i never touch it' (h. more's _memoirs_, i. ). on july , , beattie, who met him at dinner, says, 'he cannot be prevailed on to drink wine' (beattie's _life_, p. ). on his death-bed he refused any 'inebriating sustenance' (_post_, dec. ). it is remarkable that writing to dr. taylor on aug. , , he said:--'drink a great deal, and sleep heartily;' and that on june , , he again wrote to him:--'i hope you presever in drinking. my opinion is that i have drunk too little, and therefore have the gout, for it is of my own acquisition, as neither my father had it nor my mother' (_notes and queries_, th s. v. pp. , ). on sept. , (_post_), he even 'owned that in his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life.' johnson disapproved of fermented liquors only in the case of those who, like himself and boswell, could not keep from excess. [ ] ofellus, or rather ofella, is the 'rusticus, abnormis sapiens, crassaque minerva' of horace's _satire_, ii. . . what he teaches is briefly expressed in pope's imitation, ii. . : 'what, and how great, the virtue and the art to live on little with a cheerful heart (a doctrine sage, but truly none of mine); let's talk, my friends, but talk before we dine.' in was published a worthless poem called _the art of living in london_; in which 'instructions were given to persons who live in a garret, and spend their evenings in an ale-house.' _gent. mag_. xxxix. . to this boswell refers. [ ] 'johnson this day, when we were by ourselves, observed how common it was for people to talk from books; to retail the sentiments of others, and not their own; in short, to converse without any originality of thinking. he was pleased to say, "you and i do not talk from books."' boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] the passage to ireland was commonly made from chester. [ ] the honourable henry hervey, third son of the first earl of bristol, quitted the army and took orders. he married a sister of sir thomas aston, by whom he got the aston estate, and assumed the name and arms of that family. vide collins's _peerage_. boswell. [ ] the following brief mention of greenwich park in is found in one of miss talbot's letters. 'then when i come to talk of greenwich--did you ever see it? it was quite a new world to me, and a very charming one. only on the top of a most inaccessible hill in the park, just as we were arrived at a view that we had long been aiming at, a violent clap of thunder burst over our heads.'--_carter and talbot corres_, i. . [ ] at the oxford commemoration of courayer returned thanks in his robes to the university for the honour it had done him two years before in presenting him with his degree. _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. . [ ] this library was given by george iv to the british museum. croker. [ ] ovid, meta. iii. . [ ] act iii. sc. . [ ] act i. sc. . [ ] act ii. sc. . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. [sept. , ]. boswell. [ ] johnson's letter to her of feb. , , shows that she was, at that time, living in his house at lichfield. miss seward (_letters_, i. ) says that 'she boarded in lichfield with his mother.' some passages in other of his letters (croker's _boswell_, pp. , , ) lead me to think that she stayed on in this house till , when she had built herself a house with money left her by her brother. [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] he could scarcely have solicited a worse manager. horace walpole writing in (_letters_, i. ) says: 'the town has been trying all this winter to beat pantomimes off the stage very boisterously. fleetwood, the master of drury-lane, has omitted nothing to support them as they supported his house. about ten days ago, he let into the pit great numbers of bear-garden _bruisers_ (that is the term) to knock down everybody that hissed. the pit rallied their forces and drove them out.' [ ] it was not till volume v. that cave's name was given on the title-page. in volumes viii. and ix., and volumes xii. to xvii. the name is edward cave, jun. cave in his examination before the house of lords on april , , said:--'that he was concerned in the _gentleman's magazine_ at first with his nephew; and since the death of his nephew he has done it entirely himself.' _parl. hist_. xiv. . [ ] its sale, according to johnson, was ten thousand copies. _post_, april , . so popular was it that before it had completed its ninth year the fifth edition of some of the earliest numbers was printed. johnson's _works_, v. . in the _life of cave_ johnson describes it as 'a periodical pamphlet, of which the scheme is known wherever the english language is spoken.' _ib_. vi. . [ ] yet the early numbers contained verses as grossly indecent as they were dull. cave moreover advertised indecent books for sale at st. john's gate, and in one instance, at least, the advertisement was in very gross language. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] while in the course of my narrative i enumerate his writings, i shall take care that my readers shall not be left to waver in doubt, between certainty and conjecture, with regard to their authenticity; and, for that purpose, shall mark with an _asterisk_ (*) those which he acknowledged to his friends, and with a _dagger_ (dagger) those which are ascertained to be his by internal evidence. when any other pieces are ascribed to him, i shall give my reasons. boswell. [ ] hawkins says that 'cave had few of those qualities that constitute the character of urbanity. upon the first approach of a stranger his practice was to continue sitting, and for a few minutes to continue silent. if at any time he was inclined to begin the discourse, it was generally by putting a leaf of the _magazine_ then in the press into the hand of his visitor and asking his opinion of it. he was so incompetent a judge of johnson's abilities that, meaning at one time to dazzle him with the splendour of some of those luminaries in literature who favoured him with their correspondence, he told him that, if he would in the evening be at a certain alehouse in the neighbourhood of clerkenwell, he might have a chance of seeing mr. browne and another or two of the persons mentioned in the preceding note. [the note contained the names of some of cave's regular writers.] johnson accepted the invitation; and being introduced by cave, dressed in a loose horseman's coat, and such a great bushy uncombed wig as he constantly wore, to the sight of mr. browne, whom he found sitting at the upper end of a long table, in a cloud of tobacco-smoke, had his curiosity gratified.' [mr. carlyle writes of 'bushy-wigged cave;' but it was johnson whose wig is described, and not cave's. on p. hawkins again mentions his 'great bushy wig,' and says that 'it was ever nearly as impenetrable by a comb as a quickset hedge.'] hawkins's _johnson_, pp. - . johnson, after mentioning cave's slowness, says: 'the same chillness of mind was observable in his conversation; he was watching the minutest accent of those whom he disgusted by seeming inattention; and his visitant was surprised, when he came a second time, by preparations to execute the scheme which he supposed never to have been heard.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] 'the first lines put one in mind of casimir's ode to pope urban:-- "urbane, regum maxime, maxime urbane vatum." the polish poet was probably at that time in the hands of a man who had meditated the history of the latin poets.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] cave had been grossly attacked by rival booksellers; see _gent. mag_., viii. . hawkins says (_life_, p. ), 'with that sagacity which we frequently observe, but wonder at, in men of slow parts, he seemed to anticipate the advice contained in johnson's ode, and forbore a reply, though not his revenge.' this he gratified by reprinting in his own magazine one of the most scurrilous and foolish attacks. [ ] a translation of this ode, by an unknown correspondent, appeared in the _magazine_ for the month of may following: 'hail, urban! indefatigable man, unwearied yet by all thy useful toil! whom num'rous slanderers assault in vain; whom no base calumny can put to foil. but still the laurel on thy learned brow flourishes fair, and shall for ever grow. 'what mean the servile imitating crew, what their vain blust'ring, and their empty noise, ne'er seek: but still thy noble ends pursue, unconquer'd by the rabble's venal voice. still to the muse thy studious mind apply, happy in temper as in industry. 'the senseless sneerings of an haughty tongue, unworthy thy attention to engage, unheeded pass: and tho' they mean thee wrong, by manly silence disappoint their rage. assiduous diligence confounds its foes, resistless, tho' malicious crouds oppose. 'exert thy powers, nor slacken in the course, thy spotless fame shall quash all false reports: exert thy powers, nor fear a rival's force, but thou shalt smile at all his vain efforts; thy labours shall be crown'd with large success; the muse's aid thy magazine shall bless. 'no page more grateful to th' harmonious nine than that wherein thy labours we survey; where solemn themes in fuller splendour shine, (delightful mixture,) blended with the gay, where in improving, various joys we find, a welcome respite to the wearied mind. 'thus when the nymphs in some fair verdant mead, of various flowr's a beauteous wreath compose, the lovely violet's azure-painted head adds lustre to the crimson-blushing rose. thus splendid iris, with her varied dye, shines in the aether, and adorns the sky. briton.' boswell. [ ] 'i have some reason to think that at his first coming to town he frequented slaughter's coffee-house with a view to acquire a habit of speaking french, but he never could attain to it. lockman used the same method and succeeded, as johnson himself once told me.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . lockman is _l'ilustre lockman_ mentioned _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. it was at 'old slaughter's coffee-house, when a number of foreigners were talking loud about little matters, that johnson one evening said, "does not this confirm old meynell's observation, _for anything i see, foreigners are fools_"?' _post_, ib. [ ] he had read petrarch 'when but a boy;' _ante_, p. . [ ] horace walpole, writing of the year , about libels, says: 'their excess was shocking, and in nothing more condemnable than in the dangers they brought on the liberty of the press.' this evil was chiefly due to 'the spirit of the court, which aimed at despotism, and the daring attempts of lord mansfield to stifle the liberty of the press. his innovations had given such an alarm that scarce a jury would find the rankest satire libellous.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. . smollett in _humphrey clinker_ (published in ) makes mr. bramble write, in his letter of june : 'the public papers are become the infamous vehicles of the most cruel and perfidious defamation; every rancorous knave--every desperate incendiary, that can afford to spend half-a-crown or three shillings, may skulk behind the press of a newsmonger, and have a stab at the first character in the kingdom, without running the least hazard of detection or punishment.' the scribblers who had of late shewn their petulance were not always obscure. such scurrilous but humorous pieces as _probationary odes for the laureateship_, _the rolliad_, and _royal recollections_, which were all published while boswell was writing _the life of johnson_, were written, there can be little doubt, by men of position. in the first of the three (p. ) boswell is ridiculed. he is made to say:--'i know mulgrave is a bit of a poet as well as myself; for i dined in company once where he dined that very day twelve-month.' this evil of libelling had extended to america. benjamin franklin (_memoirs_, i. ), writing in , says that 'libelling and personal abuse have of late years become so disgraceful to our country. many of our printers make no scruple of gratifying the malice of individuals by false accusations of the fairest characters.' [ ] boswell perhaps refers to a book published in , called _the case of authors by profession. gent. mag_. xxviii. . guthrie applies the term to himself in the letter below. [ ] how much poetry he wrote, i know not: but he informed me, that he was the authour of the beautiful little piece, _the eagle and robin redbreast_, in the collection of poems entitled _the union_, though it is there said to be written by archibald scott, before the year . boswell. mr. p. cunningham has seen a letter of jos. warton's which states that this poem was written by his brother tom, who edited the volume. croker. [ ] dr. a. carlyle in his _autobiography_ (p. ) describes a curious scene that he witnessed in the british coffee-house. a captain cheap 'was employed by lord anson to look out for a proper person to write his voyage. cheap had a predilection for his countrymen, and having heard of guthrie, he had come down to the coffee-house to inquire about him. not long after cheap had sat down, guthrie arrived, dressed in laced clothes, and talking loud to everybody, and soon fell awrangling with a gentleman about tragedy and comedy and the unities, &c., and laid down the law of the drama in a peremptory manner, supporting his arguments with cursing and swearing. i saw cheap was astonished, when, going to the bar, he asked who this was, and finding it was guthrie he paid his coffee and slunk off in silence.' guthrie's meanness is shown by the following letter in d'israeli's _calamities of authors_, i. :-- 'june , . 'my lord, 'in the year - mr. pelham, then first lord of the treasury, acquainted me that it was his majesty's pleasure i should receive till better provided for, which never has happened, £. a year, to be paid by him and his successors in the treasury. i was satisfied with the august name made use of, and the appointment has been regularly and quarterly paid me ever since. i have been equally punctual in doing the government all the services that fell within my abilities or sphere of life, especially in those critical situations that call for unanimity in the service of the crown. 'your lordship may possibly now suspect that i am an author by profession; you are not deceived; and will be less so, if you believe that i am disposed to serve his majesty under your lordship's future patronage and protection with greater zeal, if possible, than ever. 'i have the honour to be 'my lord &c. 'william guthrie.' the lord's name is not given. see _post_, spring of , and in mr. langton's _collection_ for further mention of guthrie. [ ] perhaps there were scotticisms for johnson to correct; for churchill in _the author_, writing of guthrie, asks:-- 'with rude unnatural jargon to support half _scotch_, half _english_, a declining court * * * * * is there not guthrie?' _churchill's poems_, ii. . [ ] see appendix a. [ ] pope, _imitations of horace_, ii. l. . [ ] 'to give the world assurance of a man.' _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] in his _life of pope_ johnson says: 'this mode of imitation ... was first practised in the reign of charles ii. by oldham and rochester; at least i remember no instances more ancient. it is a kind of middle composition between translation and original design, which pleases when the thoughts are unexpectedly applicable and the parallels lucky. it seems to have been pope's favourite amusement, for he has carried it farther than any former poet.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] i own it pleased me to find amongst them one trait of the manners of the age in london, in the last century, to shield from the sneer of english ridicule, which was some time ago too common a practice in my native city of edinburgh:-- 'if what i've said can't from the town affright, consider other _dangers of the night_; when brickbats are from upper stories thrown, and _emptied chamberpots come pouring down from garret windows_.' boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , where johnson, on taking his first walk in edinburgh, 'grumbled in boswell's ear, "i smell you in the dark."' i once spent a night in a town of corsica, on the great road between ajaccio and bastia, where, i was told, this edinburgh practice was universal. it certainly was the practice of the hotel. [ ] his ode _ad urbanum_ probably. nichols. boswell. [ ] johnson, on his death-bed, had to own that 'cave was a penurious paymaster; he would contract for lines by the hundred, and expect the long hundred.' see _post_, dec. . [ ] cave sent the present by johnson to the unknown author. [ ] see _post_, p. , note . [ ] the original letter has the following additional paragraph:--'i beg that you will not delay your answer.' [ ] in later life johnson strongly insisted on the importance of fully dating all letters. after giving the date in a letter to mrs. thrale, he would add,--'now there is a date, look at it' (_piozzi letters_, ii. ); or, 'mark that--you did not put the year to your last' (_ib_. p. ); or, 'look at this and learn' (_ib_. p. ). she never did learn. the arrangement of the letters in the _piozzi letters_ is often very faulty. for an omission of the date by johnson in late life see _post_, under march , . [ ] a poem, published in , of which see an account under april , --boswell. [ ] the learned mrs. elizabeth carter. boswell. she was born dec. , and died feb. , . she never married. her father gave her a learned education. dr. johnson, speaking of some celebrated scholar [perhaps langton], said, 'that he understood greek better than any one whom he he had ever known, except elizabeth carter.' pennington's _carter_, i. . writing to her in he said, 'poor dear cave! i owed him much; for to him i owe that i have known you' (_ib_. p. ). her father wrote to her on june , :--'you mention johnson; but that is a name with which i am utterly unacquainted, neither his scholastic, critical, or poetical character ever reached my ears. i a little suspect his judgement, if he is very fond of martial' (_ib_. p. ). since she had written verses for the _gent. mag_. under the name of eliza (_ib_. p. )! they are very poor. her _ode to melancholy_ her biographer calls her best. how bad it is three lines will show:-- 'here, cold to pleasure's airy forms, consociate with my sister worms, and mingle with the dead.' _gent. mag_. ix. . hawkins records that johnson, upon hearing a lady commended for her learning, said:--'a man is in general better pleased when he has a good dinner upon his table than when his wife talks greek. my old friend, mrs. carter, could make a pudding as well as translate epictetus.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . johnson, joining her with hannah more and fanny burney, said:--'three such women are not to be found.' _post_, may , . [ ] see voltaire's _siécle de louis xiv_, ch. xxv.. [ ] at the end of his letter to cave, quoted _post_, , he says:--'the boy found me writing this almost in the dark, when i could not quite easily read yours.' a man who at times was forced to walk the streets, for want of money to pay for a lodging, was likely also at times to be condemned to idleness for want of a light. [ ] at the back of this letter is written: 'sir, please to publish the enclosed in your paper of first, and place to acc't of mr. edward cave. for whom i am, sir, your hum. ser't j. bland. st. john's gate, april , .' _london_ therefore was written before april . [ ] boswell misread the letter. johnson does not offer to allow the printer to make alterations. he says:--'i will take the trouble of altering any stroke of satire which you may dislike.' the law against libel was as unjust as it was severe, and printers ran a great risk. [ ] derrick was not merely a poet, but also master of the ceremonies at bath; _post_, may , . for johnson's opinion of _his_ 'muse' see _post_ under march , . _fortune, a rhapsody_, was published in nov. . _gent. mag_. xxi. . he is described in _humphrey clinker_ in the letters of april and may . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] six years later johnson thus wrote of savage's _wanderer_:--'from a poem so diligently laboured, and so successfully finished, it might be reasonably expected that he should have gained considerable advantage; nor can it without some degree of indignation and concern be told, that he sold the copy for ten guineas.' johnson's _works_, viii. . mrs. piozzi sold in the copyright of her collection of johnson's letters for £ ; _post_, feb. . [ ] the monks of medmenham abbey. see almon's _life of wilkes_, iii. , for wilkes's account of this club. horace walpole (_letters_, i. ) calls whitehead 'an infamous, but not despicable poet.' [ ] from _the conference_, churchill's _poems_, ii. . [ ] in the _life of pope_ johnson writes:--'paul whitehead, a small poet, was summoned before the lords for a poem called _manners_, together with dodsley his publisher. whitehead, who hung loose upon society, sculked and escaped; but dodsley's shop and family made his appearance necessary.' johnson's _works_, viii. . _manners_ was published in . dodsley was kept in custody for a week. _gent. mag_. ix. . 'the whole process was supposed to be intended rather to intimidate pope [who in his _seventeen hundred and thirty-eight_ had given offence] than to punish whitehead, and it answered that purpose.' chalmers, quoted in _parl. hist_. x. [ ] sir john hawkins, p. , tells us:--'the event is _antedated_, in the poem of _london_; but in every particular, except the difference of a year, what is there said of the departure of thales, must be understood of savage, and looked upon as _true history_.' this conjecture is, i believe, entirely groundless. i have been assured, that johnson said he was not so much as acquainted with savage when he wrote his _london_. if the departure mentioned in it was the departure of savage, the event was not _antedated_ but _foreseen_; for _london_ was published in may, , and savage did not set out for wales till july, . however well johnson could defend the credibility of _second sight_ [see _post_, feb. ], he did not pretend that he himself was possessed of that faculty. boswell. i am not sure that hawkins is altogether wrong in his account. boswell does not state _of his own knowledge_ that johnson was not acquainted with savage when he wrote _london_. the death of queen caroline in nov. deprived savage of her yearly bounty, and 'abandoned him again to fortune' (johnson's _works_, viii. ). the elegy on her that he composed on her birth-day (march ) brought him no reward. he was 'for some time in suspense,' but nothing was done. 'he was in a short time reduced to the lowest degree of distress, and often wanted both lodging and food' (_ib_. p. ). his friends formed a scheme that 'he should retire into wales.' 'while this scheme was ripening' he lodged 'in the liberties of the fleet, that he might be secure from his creditors' (_ib_. p. ). after many delays a subscription was at length raised to provide him with a small pension, and he left london in july (_ib_. p ). _london_, as i have shewn, was written before april , . that it was written with great rapidity we might infer from the fact that a hundred lines of _the vanity of human wishes_ were written in a day. at this rate _london_ might have been the work of three days. that it was written in a very short time seems to be shown by a passage in the first of these letters to cave. johnson says:--'when i took the liberty of writing to you a few days ago, i did not expect a repetition of the same pleasure so soon; ... but having the enclosed poem, &c.' it is probable that in these few days the poem was written. if we can assume that savage's elegy was sent to the court not later than march --it may have been sent earlier--and that johnson's poem was written in the last ten days of march, we have three weeks for the intervening events. they are certainly not more than sufficient, if indeed they are sufficient. the coincidence is certainly very striking between thales's retirement to 'cambria's solitary shore' and savage's retirement to wales. there are besides lines in the poem--additions to juvenal and not translations--which curiously correspond with what johnson wrote of savage in his _life_. thus he says that savage 'imagined that he should be transported to scenes of flowery felicity; ... he could not bear ... to lose the opportunity of listening, without intermission, to the melody of the nightingale, which he believed was to be heard from every bramble, and which he did not fail to mention as a very important part of the happiness of a country life' (_ib_. p. ). in like manner thales prays to find:-- 'some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play, some peaceful vale, with nature's paintings gay. * * * * * there every bush with nature's musick rings; there every breeze bears health upon its wings.' mr. croker objects that 'if thales had been savage, johnson could never have admitted into his poem two lines that point so forcibly at the drunken fray, in which savage stabbed a mr. sinclair, for which he was convicted of _murder_:-- "some frolic _drunkard_, reeling from a feast, _provokes_ a broil, and _stabs_ you in a jest."' but here johnson is following juvenal. mr. croker forgets that, if savage was convicted of murder, 'he was soon after admitted to bail, and pleaded the king's pardon.' 'persons of distinction' testified that he was 'a modest inoffensive man, not inclined to broils or to insolence;' the witnesses against him were of the lowest character, and his judge had shewn himself as ignorant as he was brutal. sinclair had been drinking in a brothel, and savage asserted that he had stabbed him 'by the necessity of self defence' (_ib_. p. ). it is, however, not unlikely that wales was suggested to johnson as thales's retreat by swift's lines on steele, in _miscellanies in prose and verse_ (v. ), published only three years before _london_:-- 'thus steele who owned what others writ, and flourished by imputed wit, from perils of a hundred jails withdrew to starve and die in wales.' [ ] the first dialogue was registered at stationers' hall, th may, , under the title _one thousand seven hundred and thirty eight_. the second dialogue was registered th july, , as _one thousand seven hundred and thirty eight, dialogue_ . elwin's _pope_, iii. . david hume was in london this spring, finding a publisher for his first work, _a treatise of human nature_. j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . [ ] pope had published _imitations of horace_. [ ] p. . boswell. 'short extracts from _london, a poem_, become remarkable for having got to the second edition in the space of a week.' _gent. mag_. viii. . the price of the poem was one shilling. pope's satire, though sold at the same price, was longer in reaching its second edition (_ib_. p. ). [ ] 'one driven by strong benevolence of soul shall fly, like oglethorpe, from pole to pole.' pope's _imitations of horace_, ii. . . 'general oglethorpe, died , earned commemoration in pope's gallery of worthies by his jacobite politics. he was, however, a remarkable man. he first directed attention to the abuses of the london jails. his relinquishment of all the attractions of english life and fortune for the settlement of the colony of georgia is as romantic a story at that of bishop berkeley' (pattison's _pope_, p. ). it is very likely that johnson's regard for oglethorpe was greatly increased by the stand that he and his brother-trustees in the settlement of georgia made against slavery (see _post_, sept. , ). 'the first principle which they laid down in their laws was that no slave should be employed. this was regarded at the time as their great and fundamental error; it was afterwards repealed' (southey's _wesley_, i. ). in spite, however, of oglethorpe's 'strong benevolence of soul' he at one time treated charles wesley, who was serving as a missionary in georgia, with great brutality (_ib_. p. ). according to benjamin franklin (_memoirs_, i. ) georgia was settled with little forethought. 'instead of being made with hardy industrious husbandmen, it was with families of broken shop-keepers, and other insolvent debtors; many of idle habits, taken out of the jails, who being set down in the woods, unqualified for clearing land, and unable to endure the hardships of a new settlement, perished in numbers, leaving many helpless children unprovided for.' johnson wished to write oglethorpe's life; _post_, april , . [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ), writing of him years after _london_ was published, when he was years old, says:--'his eyes, ears, articulation, limbs, and memory would suit a boy, if a boy could recollect a century backwards. his teeth are gone; he is a shadow, and a wrinkled one; but his spirits and his spirit are in full bloom: two years and a-half ago he challenged a neighbouring gentleman for trespassing on his manor.' [ ] once johnson being at dinner at sir joshua's in company with many painters, in the course of conversation richardson's _treatise on painting_ happened to be mentioned, 'ah!' said johnson, 'i remember, when i was at college, i by chance found that book on my stairs. i took it up with me to my chamber, and read it through, and truly i did not think it possible to say so much upon the art.' sir joshua desired of one of the company to be informed what johnson had said; and it being repeated to him so loud that johnson heard it, the doctor seemed hurt, and added, 'but i did not wish, sir, that sir joshua should have been told what i then said.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . jonathan richardson the painter had published several works on painting before johnson went to college. he and his son, jonathan richardson, junior, brought out together _explanatory notes on paradise lost_. [ ] sir joshua reynolds, from the information of the younger richardson. boswell. see _post_, oct. , , where johnson himself relates this anecdote. according to murphy, 'pope said, "the author, whoever he is, will not be long concealed;" alluding to the passage in terence [_eun_. ii. , ], _ubi, ubi est, diu celari non potest_.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] such as _far_ and _air_, which comes twice; _vain_ and _man_, _despair_ and _bar_. [ ] it is, however, remarkable, that he uses the epithet, which undoubtedly, since the union between england and scotland, ought to denominate the natives of both parts of our island:-- 'was early taught a briton's rights to prize.' boswell. swift, in his _journal to stella_ (nov. , ), having to mention england, continues:--'i never will call it _britain_, pray don't call it britain.' in a letter written on aug. , , again mentioning england, he adds,--'pox on the modern phrase great britain, which is only to distinguish it from little britain, where old clothes and old books are to be bought and sold' (swift's _works_, , xx. ). george iii 'gloried in being born a briton;' _post_, . boswell thrice more at least describes johnson as 'a true-born englishman;' _post_, under feb. , , under march , , and boswell's _hebrides_ under aug. , . the quotation is from _richard ii_, act i. sc. . [ ] 'for who would leave, unbrib'd, hibernia's land, or change the rocks of scotland for the strand? there none are swept by sudden fate away, but all, whom hunger spares, with age decay.' _london_, . - . [ ] in the _life of savage_, johnson, criticising the settlement of colonies, as it is considered by the poet and the politician, seems to be criticising himself. 'the politician, when he considers men driven into other countries for shelter, and obliged to retire to forests and deserts, and pass their lives, and fix their posterity, in the remotest corners of the world, to avoid those hardships which they suffer or fear in their native place, may very properly enquire, why the legislature does not provide a remedy for these miseries, rather than encourage an escape from them. he may conclude that the flight of every honest man is a loss to the community.... the poet guides the unhappy fugitive from want and persecution to plenty, quiet, and security, and seats him in scenes of peaceful solitude, and undisturbed repose.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] three years later johnson wrote:--'mere unassisted merit advances slowly, if, what is not very common, it advances at all.' _ib_. vi. . [ ] 'the busy _hum_ of men.' milton's _l'allegro_, . . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , , and _post_, march , , for johnson's attack on lord chatham. in the _life of thomson_ johnson wrote:--'at this time a long course of opposition to sir robert walpole had filled the nation with clamours for liberty, of which no man felt the want, and with care for liberty, which was not in danger.' johnson's _works_, viii. . hawkins says (_life_, p. );--'of walpole he had a high opinion. he said of him that he was a fine fellow, and that his very enemies deemed him so before his death. he honoured his memory for having kept this country in peace many years, as also for the goodness and placability of his temper.' horace walpole (_letters_, v. ), says:--'my father alone was capable of acting on one great plan of honesty from the beginning of his life to the end. he could for ever wage war with knaves and malice, and preserve his temper; could know men, and yet feel for them; could smile when opposed, and be gentle after triumph.' [ ] johnson in the _life of milton_ describes himself:--'milton was naturally a thinker for himself, confident of his own abilities, and disdainful of help or hindrance. from his contemporaries he neither courted nor received support; there is in his writings nothing by which the pride of other authors might be gratified, or favour gained; no exchange of praise, nor solicitation of support.' johnson's _works_, vii. . see _post_ feb. , for johnson's opinion on 'courting great men.' [ ] in a billet written by mr. pope in the following year, this school is said to have been in _shropshire_; but as it appears from a letter from earl gower, that the trustees of it were 'some worthy gentlemen in johnson's neighbourhood,' i in my first edition suggested that pope must have, by mistake, written shropshire, instead of staffordshire. but i have since been obliged to mr. spearing, attorney-at-law, for the following information:--'william adams, formerly citizen and haberdasher of london, founded a school at newport, in the county of salop, by deed dated th november, , by which he granted "the yearly sum of _sixty pounds_ to such able and learned schoolmaster, from time to time, being of godly life and conversation, who should have been educated at one of the universities of oxford or cambridge, and had taken the degree of _master of arts_, and was well read in the greek and latin tongues, as should be nominated from time to time by the said william adams, during his life, and after the decease of the said william adams, by the governours (namely, the master and wardens of the haberdashers' company of the city of london) and their successors." the manour and lands out of which the revenues for the maintenance of the school were to issue are situate _at knighton and adbaston, in the county of stafford_.' from the foregoing account of this foundation, particularly the circumstances of the salary being sixty pounds, and the degree of master of arts being a requisite qualification in the teacher, it seemed probable that this was the school in contemplation; and that lord gower erroneously supposed that the gentlemen who possessed the lands, out of which the revenues issued, were trustees of the charity. such was probable conjecture. but in the _gent. mag_. for may, , there is a letter from mr. henn, one of the masters of the school of appleby, in leicestershire, in which he writes as follows:-- 'i compared time and circumstance together, in order to discover whether the school in question might not be this of appleby. some of the trustees at that period were "worthy gentlemen of the neighbourhood of litchfield." appleby itself is not far from the neighbourhood of litchfield. the salary, the degree requisite, together with the _time of election_, all agreeing with the statutes of appleby. the election, as said in the letter, "could not be delayed longer than the th of next month," which was the th of september, just three months after the annual audit-day of appleby school, which is always on the th of june; and the statutes enjoin _ne ullius praeceptorum electio diutius tribus mensibus moraretur, etc_. 'these i thought to be convincing proofs that my conjecture was not ill-founded, and that, in a future edition of that book, the circumstance might be recorded as fact. 'but what banishes every shadow of doubt is the _minute-book_ of the school, which declares the headmastership to be _at that time_ vacant.' i cannot omit returning thanks to this learned gentleman for the very handsome manner in which he has in that letter been so good as to speak of this work. boswell. [ ] 'what a pity it is, sir,' said to him sir william scott, afterwards lord stowell, 'that you did not follow the profession of the law! you might have been lord chancellor of great britain' _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, beginning of . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] in the _weekly miscellany_, october , , there appeared the following advertisement:--'just published, proposals for printing the _history of the council of trent_, translated from the italian of father paul sarpi; with the authour's life, and notes theological, historical, and critical, from the french edition of dr. le courayer. to which are added, observations on the history, and notes and illustrations from various authours, both printed and manuscript. by s. johnson. . the work will consist of two hundred sheets, and be two volumes in quarto, printed on good paper and letter. . the price will be _s_. each volume, to be paid, half-a-guinea at the delivery of the first volume, and the rest at the delivery of the second volume in sheets. . two-pence to be abated for every sheet less than two hundred. it may be had on a large paper, in three volumes, at the price of three guineas; one to be paid at the time of subscribing, another at the delivery of the first, and the rest at the delivery of the other volumes. the work is now in the press, and will be diligently prosecuted. subscriptions are taken in by mr. dodsley in pall-mall, mr. rivington in st. paul's church-yard, by e. cave at st. john's gate, and the translator, at no. , in castle-street by cavendish-square.' boswell. [ ] they afterwards appeared in the _gent. mag_. [viii. ] with this title--'_verses to lady firebrace, at bury assizes_.' boswell. [ ] du halde's description of china was then publishing by mr. cave in weekly numbers, whence johnson was to select pieces for the embellishment of the _magazine_. nichols. boswell. [ ] the premium of forty pounds proposed for the best poem on the divine attributes is here alluded to. nichols. boswell. [ ] the compositors in mr. cave's printing-office, who appear by this letter to have then waited for copy. nichols. boswell. [ ] twenty years later, when he was lodging in the temple, he had fasted for two days at a time; 'he had drunk tea, but eaten no bread; this was no intentional fasting, but happened just in the course of a literary life.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . see _post_, aug. , . [ ] birch mss. brit. mus. . boswell. [ ] see _post_, under dec. , , and oct. , . [ ] see _post_, . [ ] this book was published. boswell. i have not been able to find it. [ ] _the historie of four-footed beasts and serpents_. by edward topsell. london, . isaac walton, in the _complete angler_, more than once quotes topsel. see p. in the reprint of the first edition, where he says:--'as our topsel hath with great diligence observed.' [ ] in this preface he describes some pieces as 'deserving no other fate than to be hissed, torn, and forgotten. johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] the letter to mr. urban in the january number of this year (p. ) is, i believe, by johnson. [ ] 'yet did boerhaave not suffer one branch of science to withdraw his attention from others; anatomy did not withhold him from chymistry, nor chymistry, enchanting as it is, from the study of botany.' johnson's _works_, vi. . see _post_, under sept. , . [ ] _gent. mag_. viii. , and johnson's _works_, i. . [ ] what these verses are is not clear. on p. there is an epigram _ad elisam popi horto lauras carpentem_, of which on p. there are three translations. that by urbanus may be johnson's. [ ] _ib_. p. , and johnson's _works_, i. . on p. of this volume of the _gent. mag_. is given the epigram 'to a lady who spoke in defence of liberty.' this was 'molly aston' mentioned _ante_, p. . [ ] to the year belongs _considerations on the case of dr. t[rapp]s sermons. abridged by mr. cave, _; first published in the _gent. mag_. of july . (see _post_ under nov. , , note.) cave had begun to publish in the _gent. mag_. an abridgment of four sermons preached by trapp against whitefield. he stopped short in the publication, deterred perhaps by the threat of a prosecution for an infringement of copy-right. 'on all difficult occasions,' writes the editor in , 'johnson was cave's oracle; and the paper now before us was certainly written on that occasion.' johnson argues that abridgments are not only legal but also justifiable. 'the design of an abridgment is to benefit mankind by facilitating the attainment of knowledge ... for as an incorrect book is lawfully criticised, and false assertions justly confuted ... so a tedious volume may no less lawfully be abridged, because it is better that the proprietors should suffer some damage, than that the acquisition of knowledge should be obstructed with unnecessary difficulties, and the valuable hours of thousands thrown away.' johnson's _works_, v. . whether we have here johnson's own opinion cannot be known. he was writing as cave's advocate. see also boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] in his _life of thomson_ johnson writes:--'about this time the act was passed for licensing plays, of which the first operation was the prohibition of _gustavus vasa_, a tragedy of mr. brooke, whom the public recompensed by a very liberal subscription; the next was the refusal of _edward and eleonora_, offered by thomson. it is hard to discover why either play should have been obstructed.' johnson's works, viii. . [ ] the inscription and the translation of it are preserved in the _london magazine_ for the year , p. . boswell. see johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] it is a little heavy in its humour, and does not compare well with the like writings of swift and the earlier wits. [ ] hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] 'sic fatus senior, telumque imbelle sine ictu conjecit.' 'so spake the elder, and cast forth a toothless spear and vain.' morris, _Æneids_, ii. . [ ] 'get all your verses printed fair, then let them well be dried; and curll must have a special care to leave the margin wide. lend these to paper-sparing pope; and when he sits to write, no letter with an envelope could give him more delight.' _advice to the grub street verse-writers_. (swift's _works_, , xi .) nichols, in a note on this passage, says:--'the original copy of pope's _homer_ is almost entirely written on the covers of letters, and sometimes between the lines of the letters themselves.' johnson, in his _life of pope_, writes:--'of pope's domestic character frugality was a part eminently remarkable.... this general care must be universally approved; but it sometimes appeared in petty artifices of parsimony, such as the practice of writing his compositions on the back of letters, as may be seen in the remaining copy of the _iliad_, by which perhaps in five years five shillings were saved.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see note, p. . boswell. [ ] the _marmor norfolciense_, price one shilling, is advertised in the _gent. mag_. for (p. ) among the books for april. [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. . boswell. [ ] according to sir joshua reynolds, 'every person who knew dr. johnson must have observed that the moment he was left out of the conversation, whether from his deafness or from whatever cause, but a few minutes without speaking or listening, his mind appeared to be preparing itself. he fell into a reverie accompanied with strange antic gestures; but this he never did when his mind was engaged by the conversation. these were therefore improperly called convulsions, which imply involuntary contortions; whereas, a word addressed to him, his attention was recovered. sometimes, indeed, it would be near a minute before he would give an answer, looking as if he laboured to bring his mind to bear on the question' (taylor's _reynolds_, ii. ). 'i still, however, think,' wrote boswell, 'that these gestures were involuntary; for surely had not that been the case, he would have restrained them in the public streets' (boswell's _hebrides_, under date of aug. , , note). dr. t. campbell, in his _diary of a visit to england_, p. , writing of johnson on march , , says:--'he has the aspect of an idiot, without the faintest ray of sense gleaming from any one feature--with the most awkward garb, and unpowdered grey wig, on one side only of his head--he is for ever dancing the devil's jig, and sometimes he makes the most driveling effort to whistle some thought in his absent paroxysms.' miss burney thus describes him when she first saw him in :--'soon after we were seated this great man entered. i have so true a veneration for him that the very sight of him inspires me with delight and reverence, notwithstanding the cruel infirmities to which he is subject; for he has almost perpetual convulsive movements, either of his hands, lips, feet, or knees, and sometimes of all together.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _post_, under march , , boswell's note on johnson's peculiarities. [ ] 'solitude,' wrote reynolds, 'to him was horror; nor would he ever trust himself alone but when employed in writing or reading. he has often begged me to go home with him to prevent his being alone in the coach. any company was better than none; by which he connected himself with many mean persons whose presence he could command.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . johnson writing to mrs. thrale, said:--'if the world be worth winning, let us enjoy it; if it is to be despised, let us despise it by conviction. but the world is not to be despised but as it is compared with something better. company is in itself better than solitude, and pleasure better than indolence.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in _the idler_, no. , he wrote:--'others are afraid to be alone, and amuse themselves by a perpetual succession of companions; but the difference is not great; in solitude we have our dreams to ourselves, and in company we agree to dream in concert. the end sought in both is forgetfulness of ourselves.' in _the rambler_, no. , he wrote:--'it may be laid down as a position which will seldom deceive, that when a man cannot bear his own company, there is something wrong. he must fly from himself, either because he feels a tediousness in life from the equipoise of an empty mind ... or he must be afraid of the intrusion of some unpleasing ideas, and, perhaps, is struggling to escape from the remembrance of a loss, the fear of a calamity, or some other thought of greater horror.' cowper, whose temperament was in some respects not unlike johnson's, wrote:--'a vacant hour is my abhorrence; because, when i am not occupied, i suffer under the whole influence of my unhappy temperament.' southey's _cowper_, vi. . [ ] richardson was of the same way of thinking as hogarth. writing of a speech made at the oxford commemoration of by the jacobite dr. king (see _post_, feb. ), he said:--'there cannot be a greater instance of the lenity of the government he abuses than his pestilent harangues so publicly made with impunity furnishes (_sic_) all his readers with.'--_rich. corresp_. ii. . [ ] impartial posterity may, perhaps, be as little inclined as dr. johnson was to justify the uncommon rigour exercised in the case of dr. archibald cameron. he was an amiable and truly honest man; and his offence was owing to a generous, though mistaken principle of duty. being obliged, after , to give up his profession as a physician, and to go into foreign parts, he was honoured with the rank of colonel, both in the french and spanish service. he was a son of the ancient and respectable family of cameron, of lochiel; and his brother, who was the chief of that brave clan, distinguished himself by moderation and humanity, while the highland army marched victorious through scotland. it is remarkable of this chief, that though he had earnestly remonstrated against the attempt as hopeless, he was of too heroick a spirit not to venture his life and fortune in the cause, when personally asked by him whom he thought his prince. boswell. sir walter scott states, in his introduction to _redgauntlet_, that the government of george ii were in possession of sufficient evidence that dr. cameron had returned to the highlands, _not_, as he alleged on his trial, for family affairs merely, but as the secret agent of the pretender in a new scheme of rebellion: the ministers, however, preferred trying this indefatigable partisan on the ground of his undeniable share in the insurrection of , rather than rescuing themselves and their master from the charge of harshness, at the expense of making it universally known, that a fresh rebellion had been in agitation so late as . lockhart. he was executed on june , . _gent. mag_. xxiii. . lord campbell (_lives of the chancellors_, v. ) says:--'i regard his execution as a wanton atrocity.' horace walpole, however, inclined to the belief that cameron was engaged in a new scheme of rebellion. walpole's _memoirs of george ii_, i. . [ ] horace walpole says that towards convicts under sentence of death 'george ii's disposition in general was merciful, if the offence was not murder.' he mentions, however, a dreadful exception, when the king sent to the gallows at oxford a young man who had been 'guilty of a most trifling forgery,' though he had been recommended to mercy by the judge, who 'had assured him his pardon.' mercy was refused, merely because the judge, willes, 'was attached to the prince of wales.' it is very likely that this was one of johnson's 'instances,' as it had happened about four years earlier, and as an account of the young man had been published by an oxonian. walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, i. . [ ] it is strange that when johnson had been sixteen years in london he should not be known to hogarth by sight. 'mr. hogarth,' writes mrs. piozzi, 'was used to be very earnest that i should obtain the acquaintance, and if possible, the friendship of dr. johnson, "whose conversation was to the talk of other men, like titian's painting compared to hudson's," he said.... of dr. johnson, when my father and he were talking together about him one day, "that man," says hogarth, "is not contented with believing the bible, but he fairly resolves, i think, to believe nothing _but_ the bible."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] on october of this year james boswell was born. [ ] in this preface is found the following lively passage:--'the roman gazetteers are defective in several material ornaments of style. they never end an article with the mystical hint, _this occasions great speculation_. they seem to have been ignorant of such engaging introductions as, _we hear it is strongly reported_; and of that ingenious, but thread-bare excuse for a downright lie, _it wants confirmation_.' [ ] the _lives_ of blake and drake were certainly written with a political aim. the war with spain was going on, and the tory party was doing its utmost to rouse the country against the spaniards. it was 'a time,' according to johnson, 'when the nation was engaged in a war with an enemy, whose insults, ravages, and barbarities have long called for vengeance.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] barretier's childhood surpassed even that of j. s. mill. at the age of nine he was master of five languages, greek and hebrew being two of them. 'in his twelfth year he applied more particularly to the study of the fathers.' at the age of fourteen he published _anti-artemonius; sive initium evangelii s. joannis adversus artemonium vindicatum_. the same year the university of halle offered him the degree of doctor in philosophy. 'his theses, or philosophical positions, which he printed, ran through several editions in a few weeks.' he was a deep student of mathematics, and astronomy was his favourite subject. his health broke down under his studies, and he died in in the twentieth year of his age. johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] he wrote also in _a dissertation on the epitaphs written by pope_. [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] in the original _and_. _gent. mag_. x. . the title of this poem as there given is:--'an epitaph upon the celebrated claudy philips, musician, who died very poor.' [ ] the epitaph of phillips is in the porch of wolverhampton church. the prose part of it is curious:-- 'near this place lies charles claudius phillips, whose absolute contempt of riches and inimitable performances upon the violin made him the admiration of all that knew him. he was born in wales, made the tour of europe, and, after the experience of both kinds of fortune, died in .' mr. garrick appears not to have recited the verses correctly, the original being as follows:-- 'exalted soul, _thy various sounds_ could please the love-sick virgin and the gouty ease; could jarring _crowds_, like old amphion, move to beauteous order and harmonious love; rest here in peace, till angels bid thee rise, and meet thy saviour's _consort_ in the skies.' blakeway. _consort_ is defined in johnson's _dictionary_ as _a number of instruments playing together_. [ ] i have no doubt that it was written in ; for the second line is clearly a parody of a line in the chorus of cibber's _birthday ode_ for that year. the chorus is as follows: 'while thou our master of the main revives eliza's glorious reign, the great plantagenets look down, and see _your_ race adorn your crown.' _gent. mag_. xi. . in the _life of barretier_ johnson had also this fling at george ii:--'princes are commonly the last by whom merit is distinguished.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. and nov. , . [ ] hester lynch salusbury, afterwards mrs. thrale, and later on mrs. piozzi, was born on jan. , . [ ] this piece is certainly not by johnson. it contains more than one ungrammatical passage. it is impossible to believe that he wrote such a sentence as the following:--'another having a cask of wine sealed up at the top, but his servant boring a hole at the bottom stole the greatest part of it away; sometime after, having called a friend to taste his wine, he found the vessel almost empty,' &c. [ ] mr. carlyle, by the use of the term 'imaginary editors' (_cromwell's letters and speeches_, iii. ), seems to imply that he does not hold with boswell in assigning this piece to johnson. i am inclined to think, nevertheless, that boswell is right. if it is johnson's it is doubly interesting as showing the method which he often followed in writing the parliamentary debates. when notes were given him, while for the most part he kept to the speaker's train of thoughts, he dealt with the language much as it pleased him. in the _gent. mag_. cromwell speaks as if he were wearing a flowing wig and were addressing a parliament of the days of george ii. he is thus made to conclude speech xi:--'for my part, could i multiply my person or dilate my power, i should dedicate myself wholly to this great end, in the prosecution of which i shall implore the blessing of god upon your counsels and endeavours.' _gent. mag_. xi. . the following are the words which correspond to this in the original:--'if i could help you to many, and multiply myself into many, that would be to serve you in regard to settlement.... but i shall pray to god almighty that he would direct you to do what is according to his will. and this is that poor account i am able to give of myself in this thing.' carlyle's _cromwell_, iii. . [ ] see appendix a. [ ] lord chesterfield. [ ] duke of newcastle. [ ] i suppose in another compilation of the same kind. boswell. [ ] doubtless, lord hardwick. boswell. [ ] the delivery of letters by the penny-post 'was originally confined to the cities of london and westminster, the borough of southwark and the respective suburbs thereof.' in the postage was raised to twopence. the term 'suburbs' must have had a very limited signification, for it was not till that the limits of this delivery were extended to all places within three miles of the general post office. _ninth report of the commissioners of the post office_, , p. . [ ] birch's _mss. in the british museum_, . boswell. [ ] see _post_, dec. , in nichols's _anecdotes_. if we may trust hawkins, it is likely that johnson's 'tenderness of conscience' cost cave a good deal; for he writes that, while johnson composed the _debates_, the sale of the _magazine_ increased from ten to fifteen thousand copies a month. 'cave manifested his good fortune by buying an old coach and a pair of older horses.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] i am assured that the editor is mr. george chalmers, whose commercial works are well known and esteemed. boswell. [ ] the characteristic of pulteney's oratory is thus given in hazlitts _northcole's conversations_ (p. ):--'old mr. tolcher used to say of the famous pulteney--"my lord bath always speaks in blank verse."' [ ] hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. [ ] a bookseller of london. boswell [ ] not the royal society; but the society for the encouragement of learning, of which dr. birch was a leading member. their object was to assist authors in printing expensive works. it existed from about to , when having incurred a considerable debt, it was dissolved. boswell. [ ] there is no erasure here, but a mere blank; to fill up which may be an exercise for ingenious conjecture. boswell. [ ] johnson, writing to dr. taylor on june , , says:--'i propose to get _charles of sweden_ ready for this winter, and shall therefore, as i imagine, be much engaged for some months with the dramatic writers into whom i have scarcely looked for many years. keep _irene_ close, you may send it back at your leisure.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . _charles of sweden_ must have been a play which he projected. [ ] the profligate sentiment was, that 'to tell a secret to a friend is no breach of fidelity, because the number of persons trusted is not multiplied, a man and his friend being virtually the same.' _rambler_, no. . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. . [sept. , .] boswell. [ ] this piece contains a passage in honour of some great critic. 'may the shade, at least, of one great english critick rest without disturbance; and may no man presume to insult his memory, who wants his learning, his reason, or his wit.' johnson's _works_, v. . bentley had died on july of this year, and there can be little question that bentley is meant. [ ] see _post_, end of . [ ] 'there is nothing to tell, dearest lady, but that he was insolent and i beat him, and that he was a blockhead and told of it, which i should never have done.... i have beat many a fellow, but the rest had the wit to hold their tongues.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . in the _life of pope_ johnson thus mentions osborne:--'pope was ignorant enough of his own interest to make another change, and introduced osborne contending for the prize among the booksellers [_dunciad_, ii. ]. osborne was a man entirely destitute of shame, without sense of any disgrace but that of poverty.... the shafts of satire were directed equally in vain against cibber and osborne; being repelled by the impenetrable impudence of one, and deadened by the impassive dulness of the other.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] in the original _contentions_. [ ] 'dec. , . in the paper office there is a wight, called thomas astle, who lives like moths on old parchments.' walpole's _letters_, vi. . [ ] savage died on aug. , , so that this letter is misplaced. [ ] the plain dealer was published in , and contained some account of savage. boswell. [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for sept. (p. ) there is an epitaph on r----d s----e, esq., which may perhaps be this inscription. 'his life was want,' this epitaph declares. it is certainly not the runick inscription in the number for march , as malone suggests; for the earliest possible date of this letter is seventeen months later. [ ] i have not discovered what this was. boswell. [ ] the _mag.-extraordinary_ is perhaps the supplement to the december number of each year. [ ] this essay contains one sentiment eminently johnsonian. the writer had shown how patiently confucius endured extreme indigence. he adds:--'this constancy cannot raise our admiration after his former conquest of himself; for how easily may he support pain who has been able to resist pleasure.' _gent. mag_. xii. . [ ] in this preface there is a complaint that has been often repeated--'all kinds of learning have given way to politicks.' [ ] in the _life of pope_ (johnson's _works_, viii. ) johnson says that crousaz, 'however little known or regarded here, was no mean antagonist' [ ] it is not easy to believe that boswell had read this essay, for there is nothing metaphysical in what johnson wrote. two-thirds of the paper are a translation from crousaz. boswell does not seem to have distinguished between crousaz's writings and johnson's. we have here a striking instance of the way in which cave sometimes treated his readers. one-third of this essay is given in the number for march, the rest in the number for november. [ ] angliacas inter pulcherrima laura puellas, mox uteri pondus depositura grave, adsit, laura, tibi facilis lucina dolenti, neve tibi noceat praenituisse deae. mr. hector was present when this epigram was made _impromptu_. the first line was proposed by dr. james, and johnson was called upon by the company to finish it, which he instantly did. boswell. macaulay (_essays_, i. ) criticises mr. croker's criticism of this epigram. [ ] the lines with which this poem is introduced seem to show that it cannot be johnson's. he was not the man to allow that haste of performance was any plea for indulgence. they are as follows:--'though several translations of mr. pope's verses on his grotto have already appeared, we hope that the following attempt, which, we are assured, was the casual amusement of half an hour during several solicitations to proceed, will neither be unacceptable to our readers, nor (these circumstances considered) dishonour the persons concerned by a hasty publication.' _gent. mag_. xiii. . [ ] see _gent. mag_. xiii. . i doubt whether this advertisement be from johnson's hand. it is very unlikely that he should make the advertiser in one and the same paragraph when speaking of himself use _us_ and _mine_. boswell does not mention the preface to vol. iii. of the _harkian catalogue_. it is included in johnson's _works_ (v. ). its author, be he who he may, in speaking of literature, says:--'i have idly hoped to revive a taste well-nigh extinguished.' [ ] johnson did not speak equally well of dr. james's morals. 'he will not,' he wrote, 'pay for three box tickets which he took. it is a strange fellow.' the tickets were no doubt for miss williams's benefit (croker's _boswell_, vo. p. ). see _ante_, p. , and _post_, march , , end of , note. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] 'to dr. mead. 'sir, 'that the _medicinal dictionary_ is dedicated to you, is to be imputed only to your reputation for superior skill in those sciences which i have endeavoured to explain and facilitate: and you are, therefore, to consider this address, if it be agreeable to you, as one of the rewards of merit; and if, otherwise, as one of the inconveniences of eminence. 'however you shall receive it, my design cannot be disappointed; because this publick appeal to your judgement will shew that i do not found my hopes of approbation upon the ignorance of my readers, and that i fear his censure least, whose knowledge is most extensive. 'i am, sir, 'your most obedient 'humble servant, 'r. james.' boswell. see _post_, may , , where johnson said, 'dr. mead lived more in the broad sunshine of life than almost any man.' [ ] johnson was used to speak of him in this manner:--'tom is a lively rogue; he remembers a great deal, and can tell many pleasant stories; but a pen is to tom a torpedo, the touch of it benumbs his hand and his brain.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . goldsmith in his _life of nash_ (cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. ) says:--'nash was not born a writer, for whatever humour he might have in conversation, he used to call a pen his torpedo; whenever he grasped it, it benumbed all his faculties.' it is very likely that nash borrowed this saying from johnson. in boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , we read:--dr. birch being mentioned, dr. johnson said he had more anecdotes than any man. i said, percy had a great many; that he flowed with them like one of the brooks here. johnson. "if percy is like one of the brooks here, birch was like the river thames. birch excelled percy in that as much as percy excels goldsmith." disraeli (_curiosities of literature_, iii, ) describes dr. birch as 'one to whom british history stands more indebted than to any superior author. he has enriched the british museum by thousands of the most authentic documents of genuine secret history.' [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] in mr. john levett was returned for lichfield, but on petition was declared to be not duly elected (_parl. hist_. xv. ). perhaps he was already aiming at public life. [ ] one explanation may be found of johnson's intimacy with savage and with other men of loose character. 'he was,' writes hawkins, 'one of the most quick-sighted men i ever knew in discovering the good and amiable qualities of others' (hawkins's _johnson_, p. ). 'he was,' says boswell (_post_, april , ), 'willing to take men as they are, imperfect, and with a mixture of good and bad qualities.' how intimate the two men were is shown by the following passage in johnson's _life of savage_:--'savage left london in july, , having taken leave with great tenderness of his friends, and parted from the author of this narrative with tears in his eyes.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] as a specimen of his temper, i insert the following letter from him to a noble lord, to whom he was under great obligations, but who, on account of his bad conduct, was obliged to discard him. the original was in the hands of the late francis cockayne cust, esq., one of his majesty's counsel learned in the law: '_right honourable_ brute, _and_ booby, 'i find you want (as mr. ---- is pleased to hint,) to swear away my life, that is, the life of your creditor, because he asks you for a debt.--the publick shall soon be acquainted with this, to judge whether you are not fitter to be an irish evidence, than to be an irish peer.--i defy and despise you. 'i am, 'your determined adversary, 'r. s.' boswell. the noble lord was no doubt lord tyrconnel. see johnson's _works_, viii. . mr. cust is mentioned _post_, p. . [ ] 'savage took all opportunities of conversing familiarly with those who were most conspicuous at that time for their power or their influence; he watched their looser moments, and examined their domestic behaviour with that acuteness which nature had given him, and which the uncommon variety of his life had contributed to increase, and that inquisitiveness which must always be produced in a vigorous mind by an absolute freedom from all pressing or domestic engagements.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] 'thus he spent his time in mean expedients and tormenting suspense, living for the greatest part in the fear of prosecutions from his creditors, and consequently skulking in obscure parts of the town, of which he was no stranger to the remotest corners.' _ib_. p. . [ ] sir john hawkins gives the world to understand, that johnson, 'being an admirer of genteel manners, was captivated by the address and demeanour of savage, who, as to his exterior, was, to a remarkable degree, accomplished.' hawkins's _life_, p. . but sir john's notions of gentility must appear somewhat ludicrous, from his stating the following circumstance as presumptive evidence that savage was a good swordsman: 'that he understood the exercise of a gentleman's weapon, may be inferred from the use made of it in that rash encounter which is related in his life.' the dexterity here alluded to was, that savage, in a nocturnal fit of drunkenness, stabbed a man at a coffee-house, and killed him; for which he was tried at the old-bailey, and found guilty of murder. johnson, indeed, describes him as having 'a grave and manly deportment, a solemn dignity of mien; but which, upon a nearer acquaintance, softened into an engaging easiness of manners.' [johnson's _works_, viii. .] how highly johnson admired him for that knowledge which he himself so much cultivated, and what kindness he entertained for him, appears from the following lines in the _gentleman's magazine_ for april, , which i am assured were written by johnson: _'ad_ ricardum savage. 'humani studium generis cui pectore fervet o colat humanum te foveatque genus.' boswell. the epigram is inscribed ad ricardum savage, arm. humani generis amatorem. _gent. mag_. viii. . [ ] the following striking proof of johnson's extreme indigence, when he published the _life of savage_, was communicated to the author, by mr. richard stow, of apsley, in bedfordshire, from the information of mr. walter harte, author of the _life of gustavus adolphus_: 'soon after savage's _life_ was published, mr. harte dined with edward cave, and occasionally praised it. soon after, meeting him, cave said, 'you made a man very happy t'other day.'--'how could that be,' says harte; 'nobody was there but ourselves.' cave answered, by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to johnson, dressed so shabbily, that he did not choose to appear; but on hearing the conversation, was highly delighted with the encomiums on his book.' malone. 'he desired much to be alone, yet he always loved good talk, and often would get behind the screen to hear it.' great-heart's account of fearing; _pilgrim's progress_, part ii. harte was tutor to lord chesterfield's son. see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_, and march , . [ ] 'johnson has told me that whole nights have been spent by him and savage in a perambulation round the squares of westminster, st. james's in particular, when all the money they could both raise was less than sufficient to purchase for them the shelter and sordid comforts of a night's cellar.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . where was mrs. johnson living at this time? this perhaps was the time of which johnson wrote, when, after telling of a silver cup which his mother had bought him, and marked sam. i., he says:--'the cup was one of the last pieces of plate which dear tetty sold in our distress.' _account of johnson's early life_, p. . yet it is not easy to understand how, if there was a lodging for her, there was not one for him. she might have been living with friends. we have a statement by hawkins (p. ) that there was 'a temporary separation of johnson from his wife.' he adds that, 'while he was in a lodging in fleet street, she was harboured by a friend near the tower.' this separation, he insinuates, rose by an estrangement caused by johnson's 'indifference in the discharge of the domestic virtues.' it is far more likely that it rose from destitution. shenstone, in a letter written in , gives a curious account of the streets of london through which johnson wandered. he says;--'london is really dangerous at this time; the pickpockets, formerly content with mere filching, make no scruple to knock people down with bludgeons in fleet street and the strand, and that at no later hour than eight o'clock at night; but in the piazzas, covent garden, they come in large bodies, armed with _couteaus_, and attack whole parties, so that the danger of coming out of the play-houses is of some weight in the opposite scale, when i am disposed to go to them oftener than i ought.' shenstone's _works_ (edit.), iii. . [ ] 'savage lodged as much by accident as he dined, and passed the night sometimes in mean houses, ... and sometimes, when he had not money to support even the expenses of these receptacles, walked about the streets till he was weary, and lay down in the summer upon a bulk, or in the winter, with his associates in poverty, among the ashes of a glass-house. in this manner were passed those days and those nights which nature had enabled him to have employed in elevated speculations, useful studies, or pleasing conversation.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] cave was the purchaser of the copyright, and the following is a copy of johnson's receipt for the money:--'the th day of december, received of mr. ed. cave the sum of fifteen guineas, in full, for compiling and writing _the life of richard savage, esq_., deceased; and in full for all materials thereto applied, and not found by the said edward cave. i say, received by me, sam. johnson. dec. , .' wright. the title-page is as follows:--'an account of the life of mr. richard savage, son of the earl rivers. london. printed for j. roberts, in warwick-lane. mdccxliv. it reached a second edition in , a third in , and a fourth in . a french translation was published in . [ ] roberts published in johnson's _observations on macbeth_. see _gent. mag_. xv. , . [ ] horace, _ars poetica_ l. . [ ] in the autumn of . northcote's _reynolds_ i. [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd ed. p. [p. . aug. , ]. boswell. [ ] 'mint _of_ ecstasy:' savage's _works_ ( ), ii. . [ ] 'he lives to build, not boast a generous race: no tenth transmitter of a foolish face.' _ib_. [ ] '_the bastard_: a poem, inscribed with all due reverence to mrs. bret, once countess of macclesfield. by richard savage, son of the late earl rivers. london, printed for t. worrall, .' fol. first edition. p. cunningham. between savage's character, as drawn by johnson, and johnson himself there are many points of likeness. each 'always preserved a steady confidence in his own capacity,' and of each it might be said:--'whatever faults may be imputed to him, the virtue of suffering well cannot be denied him.' each 'excelled in the arts of conversation and therefore willingly practised them.' in savage's refusal to enter a house till some clothes had been taken away that had been left for him 'with some neglect of ceremonies,' we have the counterpart of johnson's throwing away the new pair of shoes that had been set at his door. of johnson the following lines are as true as of savage:--'his distresses, however afflictive, never dejected him; in his lowest state he wanted not spirit to assert the natural dignity of wit, and was always ready to repress that insolence which the superiority of fortune incited; ... he never admitted any gross familiarities, or submitted to be treated otherwise than as an equal.' of both men it might be said that 'it was in no time of his life any part of his character to be the first of the company that desired to separate.' each 'would prolong his conversation till midnight, without considering that business might require his friend's application in the morning;' and each could plead the same excuse that, 'when he left his company, he was abandoned to gloomy reflections.' each had the same 'accurate judgment,' the same 'quick apprehension,' the same 'tenacious memory.' in reading such lines as the following who does not think, not of the man whose biography was written, but of the biographer himself?--'he had the peculiar felicity that his attention never deserted him; he was present to every object, and regardful of the most trifling occurrences ... to this quality is to be imputed the extent of his knowledge, compared with the small time which he spent in visible endeavours to acquire it. he mingled in cursory conversation with the same steadiness of attention as others apply to a lecture.... his judgment was eminently exact both with regard to writings and to men. the knowledge of life was indeed his chief attainment.' of johnson's _london_, as of savage's _the wanderer_, it might equally well be said:--'nor can it without some degree of indignation and concern be told that he sold the copy for ten guineas.' [ ] 'savage was now again abandoned to fortune without any other friend than mr. wilks; a man who, whatever were his abilities or skill as an actor, deserves at least to be remembered for his virtues, which are not often to be found in the world, and perhaps less often in his profession than in others. to be humane, generous, and candid is a very high degree of merit in any case, but those qualities deserve still greater praise when they are found in that condition which makes almost every other man, for whatever reason, contemptuous, insolent, petulant, selfish, and brutal.' _johnson's works_, viii. . [ ] in his old age he wrote as he had written in the vigour of his manhood:--'to the censure of collier ... he [dryden] makes little reply; being at the age of sixty-eight attentive to better things than the claps of a play-house.' johnson's _works_ vii. . see _post_, april , , and sept. , . [ ] johnson, writing of the latter half of the seventeenth century, says:--'the playhouse was abhorred by the puritans, and avoided by those who desired the character of seriousness or decency. a grave lawyer would have debased his dignity, and a young trader would have impaired his credit, by appearing in those mansions of dissolute licentiousness.' johnson's _works_, vii. . the following lines in churchill's _apology_ (_poems_, i. ), published in , shew how strong, even at that time, was the feeling against strolling players:-- 'the strolling tribe, a despicable race, like wand'ring arabs shift from place to place. vagrants by law, to justice open laid, they tremble, of the beadle's lash afraid, and fawning cringe, for wretched means of life, to madam may'ress, or his worship's wife.' [ ] johnson himself recognises the change in the public estimation:--'in dryden's time,' he writes, 'the drama was very far from that universal approbation which it has now obtained.' _works_, vii. . [ ] giffard was the manager of the theatre in goodman's fields, where garrick, on oct. , , made his first appearance before a london audience. murphy's _garrick_, pp. , . [ ] 'colonel pennington said, garrick sometimes failed in emphasis; as, for instance, in hamlet, "i will speak _daggers_ to her; but use _none_;" instead of "i will _speak_ daggers to her; but _use_ none."' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] i suspect dr. taylor was inaccurate in this statement. the emphasis should be equally upon _shalt_ and _not_, as both concur to form the negative injunction; and _false witness_, like the other acts prohibited in the decalogue, should not be marked by any peculiar emphasis, but only be distinctly enunciated. boswell. [ ] this character of the _life of savage_ was not written by fielding as has been supposed, but most probably by ralph, who, as appears from the minutes of the partners of _the champion_, in the possession of mr. reed of staple inn, succeeded fielding in his share of the paper, before the date of that eulogium. boswell. ralph is mentioned in _the dunciad_, iii. . a curious account of him is given in benjamin franklin's _memoirs_, i. - and . [ ] the late francis cockayne cust, esq., one of his majesty's counsel. boswell. [ ] savage's veracity was questioned, but with little reason; his accounts, though not indeed always the same, were generally consistent. 'when he loved any man, he suppressed all his faults: and, when he had been offended by him, concealed all his virtues: but his characters were generally true so far as he proceeded; though it cannot be denied that his partiality might have sometimes the effect of falsehood.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] . boswell. [ ] johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] the story on which mr. cust so much relies, that savage was a supposititious child, not the son of lord rivers and lady macclesfield, but the offspring of a shoemaker, introduced in consequence of her real son's death, was, without doubt, grounded on the circumstance of lady macclesfield having, in , previously to the birth of savage, had a daughter by the earl rivers, who died in her infancy; a fact which was proved in the course of the proceedings on lord macclesfield's bill of divorce. most fictions of this kind have some admixture of truth in them. malone. from _the earl of macclesfield's case_, it appears that 'anne, countess of macclesfield, under the name of madam smith, in fox court, near brook street, holborn, was delivered of a male child on the th of january, - , who was baptized on the monday following, the th, and registered by the name of richard, the son of john smith, by mr. burbridge; and, from the privacy, was supposed by mr. burbridge to be "a by-blow or bastard."' it also appears, that during her delivery, the lady wore a mask; and that mary pegler, on the next day after the baptism, took a male child, whose mother was called madam smith, from the house of mrs. pheasant, in fox court [running from brook street in gray's inn lane], who went by the name of mrs. lee. conformable to this statement is the entry in the register of st. andrew's, holborn, which is as follows, and which unquestionably records the baptism of richard savage, to whom lord rivers gave his own christian name, prefixed to the assumed surname of his mother:--'jan. - . richard, son of john smith and mary, in fox court, in gray's inn lane, baptized the th.' bindley. according to johnson's account savage did not learn who his parents were till the death of his nurse, who had always treated him as her son. among her papers he found some letters written by lady macclesfield's mother proving his origin. johnson's _works_, viii. . why these letters were not laid before the public is not stated. johnson was one of the least credulous of men, and he was convinced by savage's story. horace walpole, too, does not seem to have doubted it. walpole's _letters_, i. cv. [ ] johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson's _works_, p. . [ ] according to johnson's account (johnson's _works_, viii. ), the shoemaker under whom savage was placed on trial as an apprentice was not the husband of his nurse. [ ] he was in his tenth year when she died. 'he had none to prosecute his claim, to shelter him from oppression, or call in law to the assistance of justice.' _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson's companion appears to have persuaded that lofty-minded man, that he resembled him in having a noble pride; for johnson, after painting in strong colours the quarrel between lord tyrconnel and savage, asserts that 'the spirit of mr. savage, indeed, never suffered him to solicit a reconciliation: he returned reproach for reproach, and insult for insult.' [_ib_. p. .] but the respectable gentleman to whom i have alluded, has in his possession a letter, from savage, after lord tyrconnel had discarded him, addressed to the reverend mr. gilbert, his lordship's chaplain, in which he requests him, in the humblest manner, to represent his case to the viscount. boswell. [ ] 'how loved, how honoured once avails thee not, to whom related, or by whom begot.' pope's _elegy to the memory of an unfortunate lady_. [ ] trusting to savage's information, johnson represents this unhappy man's being received as a companion by lord tyrconnel, and pensioned by his lordship, as if posteriour to savage's conviction and pardon. but i am assured, that savage had received the voluntary bounty of lord tyrconnel, and had been dismissed by him, long before the murder was committed, and that his lordship was very instrumental in procuring savage's pardon, by his intercession with the queen, through lady hertford. if, therefore, he had been desirous of preventing the publication by savage, he would have left him to his fate. indeed i must observe, that although johnson mentions that lord tyrconnel's patronage of savage was 'upon his promise to lay aside his design of exposing the cruelty of his mother,' [johnson's _works_, viii. ], the great biographer has forgotten that he himself has mentioned, that savage's story had been told several years before in _the plain dealer_; from which he quotes this strong saying of the generous sir richard steele, that 'the inhumanity of his mother had given him a right to find every good man his father.' [_ib_. p. .] at the same time it must be acknowledged, that lady macclesfield and her relations might still wish that her story should not be brought into more conspicuous notice by the satirical pen of savage. boswell. [ ] according to johnson, she was at bath when savage's poem of _the bastard_ was published. 'she could not,' he wrote, 'enter the assembly-rooms or cross the walks without being saluted with some lines from _the bastard_. this was perhaps the first time that she ever discovered a sense of shame, and on this occasion the power of wit was very conspicuous; the wretch who had without scruple proclaimed herself an adulteress, and who had first endeavoured to starve her son, then to transport him, and afterwards to hang him, was not able to bear the representation of her own conduct; but fled from reproach, though she felt no pain from guilt, and left bath with the utmost haste to shelter herself among the crowds of london.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] miss mason, after having forfeited the title of lady macclesfield by divorce, was married to colonel brett, and, it is said, was well known in all the polite circles. colley cibber, i am informed, had so high an opinion of her taste and judgement as to genteel life, and manners, that he submitted every scene of his _careless husband_ to mrs. brett's revisal and correction. colonel brett was reported to be too free in his gallantry with his lady's maid. mrs. brett came into a room one day in her own house, and found the colonel and her maid both fast asleep in two chairs. she tied a white handkerchief round her husband's neck, which was a sufficient proof that she had discovered his intrigue; but she never at any time took notice of it to him. this incident, as i am told, gave occasion to the well-wrought scene of sir charles and lady easy and edging. boswell. lady macclesfield died , aged above . her eldest daughter, by col. brett, was, for the few last months of his life, the mistress of george i, (walpole's _reminiscences_, cv.) her marriage ten years after her royal lover's death is thus announced in the _gent. mag_., :--'sept. . sir w. leman, of northall, bart., to miss brett [britt] of bond street, an heiress;' and again next month--'oct. . sir william leman, of northall, baronet, to miss brett, half sister to mr. savage, son to the late earl rivers;' for the difference of date i know not how to account; but the second insertion was, no doubt, made by savage to countenance his own pretensions. croker. [ ] 'among the names of subscribers to the _harleian miscellany_ there occurs that of "sarah johnson, bookseller in lichfield."' _johnsoniana_, p. . [ ] a brief account of oldys is given in the _gent. mag_. liv. , . like so many of his fellows he was thrown into the fleet. 'after poor oldys's release, such was his affection for the place that he constantly spent his evenings there.' [ ] in the feb. number of the _gent. mag_. for this year (p. ) is the following advertisement:--'speedily will be published (price s.) _miscellaneous observations on the tragedy of macbeth_, with remarks on sir t.h.'s edition of _shakespear_; to which is affix'd proposals for a new edition of _shakespear_, with a specimen. printed for j. roberts in warwick lane.' in the march number (p. ), under the date of march , it is announced that it will be published on april . in spite of the two advertisements, and the title-page which agrees with the advertisements, i believe that the proposals were not published till eleven years later (see _post_, end of ). i cannot hear of any copy of the _miscellaneous observations_ which contains them. the advertisement is a third time repeated in the april number of the _gent. mag_. for (p. ), but the proposals are not this time mentioned. tom davies the bookseller gives as the date of their publication (_misc. and fugitive pieces_, ii. ). perhaps johnson or the booksellers were discouraged by hanmer's _shakespeare_ as well as by warburton's. johnson at the end of the _miscellaneous observations_ says:--'after the foregoing pages were printed, the late edition of _shakespeare_ ascribed to sir t. h. fell into my hands.' [ ] 'the excellence of the edition proved to be by no means proportionate to the arrogance of the editor.' _cambridge shakespeare_, i. xxxiv. [ ] 'when you see mr. johnson pray [give] my compliments, and tell him i esteem him as a great genius--quite lost both to himself and the world.' _gilbert walmesley to garrick_, nov. , . _garrick correspondence_, i. . mr. walmesley's letter does not shew that johnson was idle. the old man had expected great things from him. 'i have great hopes,' he had written in (see _ante_, p. ), 'that he will turn out a fine tragedy writer.' in the nine years in which johnson had been in town he had done, no doubt, much admirable work; but by his poem of _london_ only was he known to the public. his _life of savage_ did not bear his name. his _observations on macbeth_ were published in april, ; his _plan of the dictionary_ in [transcriber's note: originally , corrected in errata.]. what was johnson doing meanwhile? boswell conjectures that he was engaged on his _shakespeare_ and his _dictionary_. that he went on working at his _shakespeare_ when the prospect of publishing was so remote that he could not issue his proposals is very unlikely. that he had been for some time engaged on his _dictionary_ before he addressed lord chesterfield is shewn by the opening sentences of the _plan_. mr. croker's conjecture that he was absent or concealed on account of some difficulties which had arisen through the rebellion of is absurd. at no time of his life had he been an ardent jacobite. 'i have heard him declare,' writes boswell, 'that if holding up his right hand would have secured victory at culloden to prince charles's army, he was not sure he would have held it up;' _post_, july , . 'he had never in his life been in a nonjuring meeting-house;' _post_, june , . for the fact that he wrote very little, if indeed anything, in the _gent. mag_. during these years more than one reason may be given. in the first place, public affairs take up an unusual amount of room in its columns. thus in the number for dec. we read:--'our readers being too much alarmed by the present rebellion to relish with their usual delight the _debates in the senate of lilliput_ we shall postpone them for a season, that we may be able to furnish out a fuller entertainment of what we find to be more suitable to their present taste.' in the preface it is stated:--'we have sold more of our books than we desire for several months past, and are heartily sorry for the occasion of it, the present troubles.' during these years then much less space was given to literature. but besides this, johnson likely enough refused to write for the _magazine_ when it shewed itself strongly hanoverian. he would highly disapprove of _a new protestant litany_, which was written after the following fashion:-- 'may spaniards, or french, all who join with a highland, in disturbing the peace of this our bless'd island, meet tempests on sea and halters on dry land. we beseech thee to hear us, good lord.' _gent. mag_. xv. . he would be disgusted the following year at seeing the duke of cumberland praised as 'the greatest man alive' (_gent. mag_. xvi. ), and sung in verse that would have almost disgraced cibber (p. ). it is remarkable that there is no mention of johnson's _plan of a dictionary_ in the _magazine_. perhaps some coolness had risen between him and cave. [ ] boswell proceeds to mention six. [ ] in mrs. williams's miscellanies, in which this paraphrase is inserted, it is stated that the latin epitaph was written by dr. freind. i do not think that the english version is by johnson. i should be sorry to ascribe to him such lines as:-- 'illustrious age! how bright thy glories shone, when hanmer filled the chair--and anne the throne.' [ ] in the _observations_, johnson, writing of hanmer, says:--'surely the weapons of criticism ought not to be blunted against an editor who can imagine that he is restoring poetry while he is amusing himself with alterations like these:-- for,--this is the sergeant who like a good and hardy soldier fought; --this is the sergeant who like a _right_ good and hardy soldier fought. such harmless industry may surely be forgiven, if it cannot be praised; may he therefore never want a monosyllable who can use it with such wonderful dexterity.' johnson's _works_, v. . in his preface to _shakespeare_ published eighteen years later, he describes hanmer as 'a man, in my opinion, eminently qualified by nature for such studies.' _ib_. p. . the editors of the _cambridge shakespeare_ (i. xxxii) thus write of hanmer:-- 'a country gentleman of great ingenuity and lively fancy, but with no knowledge of older literature, no taste for research, and no ear for the rhythm of earlier english verse, amused his leisure hours by scribbling down his own and his friend's guesses in pope's _shakespeare_.' [ ] in the _universal visiter_, to which johnson contributed, the mark which is affixed to some pieces unquestionably his, is also found subjoined to others, of which he certainly was not the author. the mark therefore will not ascertain the poems in question to have been written by him. they were probably the productions of hawkesworth, who, it is believed, was afflicted with the gout. malone. it is most unlikely that johnson wrote such poor poems as these. i shall not easily be persuaded that the following lines are his:-- 'love warbles in the vocal groves, and vegetation paints the plain.' 'and love and hate alike implore the skies--"that stella mourn no more."' 'the winter's walk' has two good lines, but these may have been supplied by johnson. the lines to 'lyce, an elderly lady,' would, if written by him, have been taken as a satire on his wife. [ ] see _post_ under sept. , . [ ] see johnson's _works_, vii. , . [ ] boswell italicises _conceits_ to shew that he is using it in the sense in which johnson uses it in his criticism of cowley:--'these conceits addison calls mixed wit; that is, wit which consists of thoughts true in one sense of the expression and false in the other.' _ib_. vii . [ ] _namby pamby_ was the name given to ambrose philips by pope _ib_. viii. [ ] malone most likely is meant. mr. croker says:--'johnson has "_indifferently_" in the sense of "_without concern_" in his _dictionary_, with this example from _shakespeare_, "and i will look on death indifferently."' johnson however here defines indifferently as _in a neutral state; without wish or aversion_; which is not the same as _without concern_. the passage, which is from _julius caesar_, i. , is not correctly given. it is-- 'set honour in one eye and death i' the other and i will look on both indifferently.' we may compare johnson's use of _indifferent_ in his letter to chesterfield, _post_, feb. , :--'the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours ... has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it.' [ ] 'radcliffe, when quite a boy, had been engaged in the rebellion of , and being attainted had escaped from newgate.... during the insurrection [of ], having been captured on board a french vessel bound for scotland, he was arraigned on his original sentence which had slumbered so long. the only trial now conceded to him was confined to his identity. for such a course there was no precedent, except in the case of sir walter raleigh, which had brought shame upon the reign of james i.' campbell's _chancellors_ (edit. ), v. . campbell adds, 'his execution, i think, reflects great disgrace upon lord hardwicke [the lord chancellor].' [ ] in the original _end_. [ ] "these verses are somewhat too severe on the extraordinary person who is the chief figure in them, for he was undoubtedly brave. his pleasantry during his solemn trial (in which, by the way, i have heard mr. david hume observe, that we have one of the very few speeches of mr. murray, now earl of mansfield, authentically given) was very remarkable. when asked if he had any questions to put to sir everard fawkener, who was one of the strongest witnesses against him, he answered, 'i only wish him joy of his young wife.' and after sentence of death, in the horrible terms in cases of treason, was pronounced upon him, and he was retiring from the bar, he said, 'fare you well, my lords, we shall not all meet again in one place.' he behaved with perfect composure at his execution, and called out '_dulce et decorum est pro patriâ mori_?' 'what joys, what glories round him wait, who bravely for his country dies!" francis. horace, _odes_, iii. . . boswell. 'old lovat was beheaded yesterday,' wrote horace walpole on april , , 'and died extremely well: without passion, affectation, buffoonery, or timidity; his behaviour was natural and intrepid.' _letters_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] my friend, mr. courtenay, whose eulogy on johnson's latin poetry has been inserted in this work [_ante_, p. ], is no less happy in praising his english poetry. but hark, he sings! the strain ev'n pope admires; indignant virtue her own bard inspires. sublime as juvenal he pours his lays, and with the roman shares congenial praise;-- in glowing numbers now he fires the age, and shakspeare's sun relumes the clouded stage. boswell. [ ] the play is by ambrose philips. 'it was concluded with the most successful epilogue that was ever yet spoken on the english theatre. the three first nights it was recited twice; and not only continued to be demanded through the run, as it is termed, of the play; but, whenever it is recalled to the stage, where by peculiar fortune, though a copy from the french, it yet keeps its place, the epilogue is still expected, and is still spoken.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_, april , , note on eustace budgel. the epilogue is given in vol. v. p. of bonn's _addison_, and the great success that it met with is described in _the spectator_, no. . [ ] such poor stuff as the following is certainly not by johnson:-- 'let musick sound the voice of joy! or mirth repeat the jocund tale; let love his wanton wiles employ, and o'er the season wine prevail.' [ ] 'dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of an english dictionary; but i had long thought of it.' _post_, oct. , . [ ] it would seem from the passage to which boswell refers that pope had wished that johnson should undertake the _dictionary_. johnson, in mentioning pope, says:--'of whom i may be justified in affirming that were he still alive, solicitous as he was for the success of this work, he would not be displeased that i have undertaken it.' _works_, v. . as pope died on may , , this renders it likely that the work was begun earlier than boswell thought. [ ] in the title-page of the first edition after the name of hirch comes that of l. hawes. [ ] 'during the progress of the work he had received at different times the amount of his contract; and when his receipts were produced to him at a tavern-dinner given by the booksellers, it appeared that he had been paid a hundred pounds and upwards more than his due.' murphy's _johnson_. p. . see _post_, beginning of . [ ] 'the truth is, that the several situations which i have been in having made me long the _plastron_ [butt] of dedications, i am become as callous to flattery as some people are to abuse.' lord chesterfield, date of dec. , ; chesterfield's _misc. works_, iv. . [ ] september , , going from ashbourne in derbyshire, to see islam. boswell. [ ] boswell here says too much, as the following passages in the _plan_ prove:--'who upon this survey can forbear to wish that these fundamental atoms of our speech might obtain the firmness and immutability of the primogenial and constituent particles of matter?' 'those translators who, for want of understanding the characteristical difference of tongues, have formed a chaotick dialect of heterogeneous phrases;' 'in one part refinement will be subtilised beyond exactness, and evidence dilated in another beyond perspicuity.' johnson's _works_, v. , , . [ ] ausonius, _epigram_ i. . [ ] whitehead in succeeded colley cibber as poet-laureate, and dying in was followed by thomas warton. from warton the line of succession is pye, southey, wordsworth, tennyson. see _post_, under june , . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) likewise says that the manuscript passed through whitehead and 'other hands' before it reached chesterfield. mr. croker had seen 'a draft of the prospectus carefully written by an amanuensis, but signed in great form by johnson's own hand. it was evidently that which was laid before lord chesterfield. some useful remarks are made in his lordship's hand, and some in another. johnson adopted all these suggestions.' [ ] this poor piece of criticism confirms what johnson said of lord orrery:--'he grasped at more than his abilities could reach; tried to pass for a better talker, a better writer, and a better thinker that he was.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . see _post_, under april , . [ ] birch, _mss. brit. mus_. . boswell. [ ] 'when i survey the _plan_ which i have laid before you, i cannot, my lord, but confess that i am frighted at its extent, and, like the soldiers of cæsar, look on britain as a new world, which it is almost madness to invade.' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] there might be applied to him what he said of pope:--"self-confidence is the first requisite to great undertakings. he, indeed, who forms his opinion of himself in solitude without knowing the powers of other men, is very liable to error; but it was the felicity of pope to rate himself at his real value." johnson's _works_, viii, . [ ] 'for the teutonick etymologies i am commonly indebted to junius and skinner.... junius appears to have excelled in extent of learning and skinner in rectitude of understanding.... skinner is often ignorant, but never ridiculous: junius is always full of knowledge, but his variety distracts his judgment, and his learning is very frequently disgraced by his absurdities.' _ib_. v. . francis junius the younger was born at heidelberg in , and died at windsor, at the house of his nephew isaac vossius, in . his _etymologicum anglicanum_ was not published till . stephen skinner, m.d., was born in , and died in . his _etymologicon linguæ anglicanæ_ was published in . knight's _eng. cycle_. [ ] thomas richards published in _antiquæ linguæ britannicæ thesaurus_, to which is prefixed a _welsh grammar_ and a collection of british proverbs. [ ] see sir john hawkins's _life of johnson_ [p. ], boswell. [ ] 'the faults of the book resolve themselves, for the most part, into one great fault. johnson was a wretched etymologist.' macaulay's _misc. writings_, p. . see _post_, may , , for mention of horne tooke's criticism of johnson's etymologies. [ ] 'the etymology, so far as it is yet known, was easily found in the volumes where it is particularly and professedly delivered ... but to collect the words of our language was a task of greater difficulty: the deficiency of dictionaries was immediately apparent; and when they were exhausted, what was yet wanting must be sought by fortuitous and unguided excursions into books, and gleaned as industry should find, or chance should offer it, in the boundless chaos of a living speech.' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] see _post_, under april , . boswell. [ ] 'mr. macbean,' said johnson in , 'is a man of great learning, and for his learning i respect him, and i wish to serve him. he knows many languages, and knows them well; but he knows nothing of life. i advised him to write a geographical dictionary; but i have lost all hopes of his ever doing anything properly, since i found he gave as much labour to capua as to rome.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i, . see _post_ beginning of , and oct , . [ ] boswell is speaking of the book published under the name of _cibber_ mentioned above, but 'entirely compiled,' according to johnson, by shiels. see _post_, april , . [ ] see _piozzi letters_, i. , and _post_, may , , note. [ ] 'we ourselves, not without labour and risk, lately discovered gough square.... and on the second day of search the very house there, wherein the _english dictionary_ was composed. it is the first or corner house on the right hand, as you enter through the arched way from the north-west ... it is a stout, old-fashioned, oak-balustraded house: "i have spent many a pound and penny on it since then," said the worthy landlord: "here, you see, this bedroom was the doctor's study; that was the garden" (a plot of delved ground somewhat larger than a bed-quilt) "where he walked for exercise; these three garret bedrooms" (where his three [six] copyists sat and wrote) "were the place he kept his--_pupils_ in": _tempus edax rerum!_ yet _ferax_ also: for our friend now added, with a wistful look, which strove to seem merely historical: "i let it all in lodgings, to respectable gentlemen; by the quarter or the month; it's all one to me."--"to me also," whispered the ghost of samuel, as we went pensively our ways.' carlyle's _miscellanies_, edit, of , iv. . [ ] boswell's account of the manner in which johnson compiled his _dictionary_ is confused and erroneous. he began his task (as he himself expressly described to me), by devoting his first care to a diligent perusal of all such english writers as were most correct in their language, and under every sentence which he meant to quote he drew a line, and noted in the margin the first letter of the word under which it was to occur. he then delivered these books to his clerks, who transcribed each sentence on a separate slip of paper, and arranged the same under the word referred to. by these means he collected the several words and their different significations; and when the whole arrangement was alphabetically formed, he gave the definitions of their meanings, and collected their etymologies from skinner, junius, and other writers on the subject. percy. [ ] 'the books he used for this purpose were what he had in his own collection, a copious but a miserably ragged one, and all such as he could borrow; which latter, if ever they came back to those that lent them, were so defaced as to be scarce worth owning, and yet some of his friends were glad to receive and entertain them as curiosities.' hawkins, p. . [ ] in the copy that he thus marked of sir matthew hale's _primitive origination of mankind_, opposite the passage where it is stated, that 'averroes says that if the world were not eternal ... it could never have been at all, because an eternal duration must necessarily have anteceded the first production of the world,' he has written:--'this argument will hold good equally against the writing that i now write.' [ ] boswell must mean 'whose writings _taken as a whole_ had a tendency,' &c. johnson quotes dryden, and of dryden he says:--'of the mind that can trade in corruption, and can deliberately pollute itself with ideal wickedness for the sake of spreading the contagion in society, i wish not to conceal or excuse the depravity. such degradation of the dignity of genius, such abuse of superlative abilities, cannot be contemplated but with grief and indignation. what consolation can be had dryden has afforded by living to repent, and to testify his repentance.' johnson's _works_, vii. . he quotes congreve, and of congreve he says: 'it is acknowledged, with universal conviction, that the perusal of his works will make no man better; and that their ultimate effect is to represent pleasure in alliance with vice, and to relax those obligations by which life ought to be regulated.' _ib_. viii. . he would not quote dr. clarke, much as he admired him, because he was not sound upon the doctrine of the trinity. _post_, dec., , note. [ ] in the _plan to the dictionary_, written in , he describes his task as one that 'may be successfully performed without any higher quality than that of bearing burdens with dull patience, and beating the track of the alphabet with sluggish resolution.' _works_, v. . in , in the _rambler_, no. , he thus pleasantly touches on his work: 'the task of every other slave [except the 'wit'] has an end. the rower in time reaches the port; the lexicographer at last finds the conclusion of his alphabet.' on april , , he writes to his friend hector:--'i wish, come of wishes what will, that my work may please you, as much as it now and then pleased me, for i did not find dictionary making so very unpleasant as it may be thought.' _notes and queries_, th s. , . he told dr. blacklock that 'it was easier to him to write poetry than to compose his _dictionary_. his mind was less on the stretch in doing the one than the other.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] the well-known picture of the company at tunbridge wells in aug. , with the references in richardson's own writing, is given as a frontispiece to vol. iii. of richardson's _correspondence_. there can be no doubt that the figure marked by richardson as dr. johnson is not samuel johnson, who did not receive a doctor's degree till more than four years after richardson's death. [ ] 'johnson hardly ever spoke of bathurst without tears in his eyes.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . mrs. piozzi, after recording an anecdote that he had related to her of his childhood, continues:--'"i cannot imagine," said he, "what makes me talk of myself to you so, for i really never mentioned this foolish story to anybody except dr. taylor, not even to my dear, dear bathurst, whom i loved better than ever i loved any human creature; but poor bathurst is dead!" here a long pause and a few tears ensued.' piozzi's _anec_., p. . another day he said to her:--'dear bathurst was a man to my very heart's content: he hated a fool, and he hated a rogue, and he hated a whig; he was a very good hater.' _ib_. p. . in his _meditations on easter-day_, , he records:--'after sermon i recommended tetty in a prayer by herself; and my father, mother, brother, and bathurst in another.' _pr. and med_., p. . see also _post_, under march , , and in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] of hawkesworth johnson thus wrote: 'an account of dr. swift has been already collected, with great diligence and acuteness, by dr. hawkesworth, according to a scheme which i laid before him in the intimacy of our friendship. i cannot therefore be expected to say much of a life concerning which i had long since communicated my thoughts to a man capable of dignifying his narrations with so much elegance of language and force of sentiment.' johnson's _works_, viii. . hawkesworth was an imitator of johnson's style; _post_, under jan. , . [ ] he was afterwards for several years chairman of the middlesex justices, and upon occasion of presenting an address to the king, accepted the usual offer of knighthood. he is authour of 'a history of musick,' in five volumes in quarto. by assiduous attendance upon johnson in his last illness, he obtained the office of one of his executors; in consequence of which, the booksellers of london employed him to publish an edition of dr. johnson's works, and to write his life. boswell. this description of hawkins, as 'mr. john hawkins, an attorney,' is a reply to his description of boswell as 'mr. james boswell, a native of scotland.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . according to miss hawkins, 'boswell complained to her father of the manner in which he was described. where was the offence? it was one of those which a complainant hardly dares to embody in words; he would only repeat, "well, but _mr. james boswell_, surely, surely, _mr. james boswell_"' miss hawkins's _memoirs_, i. . boswell in thus styling hawkins remembered no doubt johnson's sarcasm against attorneys. see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_. hawkins's edition of _johnson's works_ was published in - , in vols., vo., the last two vols. being edited by stockdale. in vol. xi. is a collection of johnson's sayings, under the name of _apothegms_, many of which i quote in my notes. [ ] boswell, it is clear, has taken his account of the club from hawkins, who writes:--'johnson had, in the winter of , formed a club that met weekly at the king's head, a famous beef-steak house in ivy lane, near st. paul's, every tuesday evening. thither he constantly resorted with a disposition to please and be pleased. our conversations seldom began till after a supper so very solid and substantial as led us to think that with him it was a dinner. 'by the help of this refection, and no other incentive to hilarity than lemonade, johnson was in a short time after our assembling transformed into a new creature; his habitual melancholy and lassitude of spirit gave way; his countenance brightened.' hawkins's _johnson_, pp. , . other parts of hawkins's account do not agree with passages in johnson's letters to mrs. thrale written in - . 'i dined about a fortnight ago with three old friends [hawkins, ryland, and payne]; we had not met together for thirty years. in the thirty years two of our set have died.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'we used to meet weekly about the year fifty.' _ib_. p. . 'the people whom i mentioned in my letter are the remnant of a little club that used to meet in ivy lane about three and thirty years ago, out of which we have lost hawkesworth and dyer, the rest are yet on this side the grave.' _ib_. p. . hawkins says the club broke up about (_life_, p. ). johnson in the first of the passages says they had not met at all for thirty years--that is to say, not since ; while in the last two passages he implies that their weekly meetings came to an end about . i cannot understand moreover how, if bathurst, 'his beloved friend,' belonged to the club, johnson should have forgotten it. bathurst died in the expedition to the havannah about . two others of those given in hawkins's list were certainly dead by . m'ghie, who died while the club existed (_ib_. p. ), and dr. salter. a writer in the _builder_ (dec. ) says, 'the king's head was burnt down twenty-five years ago, but the cellarage remains beneath no. , alldis's dining-rooms, on the eastern side.' [ ] tom tyers said that johnson 'in one night composed, after finishing an evening in holborn, his _hermit of teneriffe_.' _gent. mag_. for , p. . the high value that he set on this piece may be accounted for in his own words. 'many causes may vitiate a writer's judgment of his own works.... what has been produced without toilsome efforts is considered with delight, as a proof of vigorous faculties and fertile invention.' johnson's _works_, vii. . he had said much the same thirty years earlier in _the rambler_ (no. ). [ ] 'on january was published, long wished, another satire from juvenal, by the author of _london.' gent. mag_. xviii. , . [ ] sir john hawkins, with solemn inaccuracy, represents this poem as a consequence of the indifferent reception of his tragedy. but the fact is, that the poem was published on the th of january, and the tragedy was not acted till the th of the february following. boswell. hawkins perhaps implies what boswell says that he represents; but if so, he implies it by denying it. hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] 'i wrote,' he said, 'the first seventy lines in _the vanity of human wishes_ in the course of one morning in that small house beyond the church at hampstead.' _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] see _post_ under feb. , . that johnson did not think that in hasty composition there is any great merit, is shewn by _the rambler_, no. , entitled _labour necessary to excellence_. there he describes 'pride and indigence as the two great hasteners of modern poems.' he continues:--'that no other method of attaining lasting praise [than _multa dies et multa litura_] has been yet discovered may be conjectured from the blotted manuscripts of milton now remaining, and from the tardy emission of pope's compositions.' he made many corrections for the later editions of his poem. [ ] 'nov. , . i received of mr. dodsley fifteen guineas, for which assign to him the right of copy of an imitation of the _tenth satire of juvenal_, written by me; reserving to myself the right of printing one edition. sam. johnson.' 'london, june, . a true copy, from the original in dr. johnson's handwriting. jas. dodsley. boswell. _london_ was sold at a shilling a copy. johnson was paid at the rate of about - / _d_. a line for this poem; for _the vanity of human wishes_ at the rate of about _d_. a line. dryden by his engagement with jacob tonson (see johnson's _works_, vii. ) undertook to furnish , verses at a little over _d_. a verse. goldsmith was paid for _the traveller_ £ , or about - / _d_. a line. [ ] he never published it. see _post_ under dec. , . [ ] 'jan. , . read johnson's _vanity of human wishes_,--all the examples and mode of giving them sublime, as well as the latter part, with the exception of an occasional couplet. i do not so much admire the opening. the first line, 'let observation,' etc., is certainly heavy and useless. but 'tis a grand poem--and so _true_!--true as the tenth of juvenal himself. the lapse of ages changes all things--time--language-- the earth--the bounds of the sea--the stars of the sky, and everything "about, around, and underneath" man, _except man himself_. the infinite variety of lives conduct but to death, and the infinity of wishes lead but to disappointment.' _byron_, vol. v. p. . wright. sir walter scott said 'that he had more pleasure in reading _london_, and _the vanity of human wishes _than any other poetical composition he could mention.' lockhart's _scott_, iii. . mr. lockhart adds that 'the last line of ms. that scott sent to the press was a quotation from _the vanity of human wishes_.' of the first lines 'let observation with extensive view survey mankind from china to peru,' de quincey quotes the criticism of some writer, who 'contends with some reason that this is saying in effect:--"let observation with extensive observation observe mankind extensively."' de quincey's _works_, x. . [ ] from mr. langton. boswell. [ ] in this poem one of the instances mentioned of unfortunate learned men is _lydiat_: 'hear lydiat's life, and galileo's end.' the history of lydiat being little known, the following account of him may be acceptable to many of my readers. it appeared as a note in the supplement to the _gent. mag_. for , in which some passages extracted from johnson's poem were inserted, and it should have been added in the subsequent editions.--a very learned divine and mathematician, fellow of new college, oxon, and rector of okerton, near banbury. he wrote, among many others, a latin treatise _de natura call_, etc., in which he attacked the sentiments of scaliger and aristotle, not bearing to hear it urged, _that some things are true in philosophy and false in divinity_. he made above sermons on the harmony of the evangelists. being unsuccessful in publishing his works, he lay in the prison of bocardo at oxford, and in the king's bench, till bishop usher, dr. laud, sir william boswell, and dr. pink, released him by paying his debts. he petitioned king charles i. to be sent into ethiopia, etc., to procure mss. having spoken in favour of monarchy and bishops, he was plundered by the parliament forces, and twice carried away prisoner from his rectory; and afterwards had not a shirt to shift him in three months, without he borrowed it, and died very poor in . boswell. [ ] psalm xc. . [ ] in the original _inquirer_. [ ] '... nonumque prematur in annum.' horace, _ars poet_. l. . [ ] 'of all authors,' wrote johnson, 'those are the most wretched who exhibit their productions on the theatre, and who are to propitiate first the manager and then the public. many an humble visitant have i followed to the doors of these lords of the drama, seen him touch the knocker with a shaking hand, and after long deliberation adventure to solicit entrance by a single knock.' _works_, v. . [ ] mahomet was, in fact, played by mr. barry, and demetrius by mr. garrick: but probably at this time the parts were not yet cast. boswell. [ ] the expression used by dr. adams was 'soothed.' i should rather think the audience was _awed_ by the extraordinary spirit and dignity of the following lines: 'be this at least his praise, be this his pride, to force applause no modern arts are tried: should partial catcalls all his hopes confound, he bids no trumpet quell the fatal sound; should welcome sleep relieve the weary wit, he rolls no thunders o'er the drowsy pit; no snares to captivate the judgement spreads, nor bribes your eyes to prejudice your heads. unmov'd, though witlings sneer and rivals rail, studious to please, yet not asham'd to fail, he scorns the meek address, the suppliant strain, with merit needless, and without it vain; in reason, nature, truth, he dares to trust; ye fops be silent, and ye wits be just!' boswell. [ ] johnson said of mrs. pritchard's playing in general that 'it was quite mechanical;' _post_, april , . see also _post_ under sept. , . [ ] 'the strangling of irene in the view of the audience was suggested by mr. garrick.' davies's _garrick_, i. . dryden in his _essay of dramatick poesie_ (edit. , i. ), says:--'i have observed that in all our tragedies the audience cannot forbear laughing when the actors are to die; 'tis the most comick part of the whole play.' 'suppose your piece admitted, acted; one single ill-natured jest from the pit is sufficient to cancel all your labours.' goldsmith's _present state of polite learning_, chap. x. [ ] in her last speech two of the seven lines are very bad:-- 'guilt and despair, pale spectres! grin around me, and stun me with the yellings of damnation!' act v. sc. . [ ] murphy referring to boswell's statement says:--'the epilogue, we are told in a late publication, was written by sir william young. this is a new discovery, but by no means probable. when the appendages to a dramatic performance are not assigned to a friend, or an unknown hand, or a person of fashion, they are always supposed to be written by the author of the play.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . he overlooks altogether the statement in the _gent. mag_. (xix. ) that the epilogue is 'by another hand.' mr. croker points out that the words 'as johnson informed me' first appear in the second edition. the wonder is that johnson accepted this epilogue, which is a little coarse and a little profane. yonge was secretary at war in walpole's ministry. walpole said of him 'that nothing but yonge's character could keep down his parts, and nothing but his parts support his character.' horace walpole's _letters_, i. , note. [ ] i know not what sir john hawkins means by the _cold reception_ of _irene_. (see note, p. .) i was at the first representation, and most of the subsequent. it was much applauded the first night, particularly the speech on _to-morrow_ [act iii. sc. ]. it ran nine nights at least. it did not indeed become a stock-play, but there was not the least opposition during the representation, except the first night in the last act, where irene was to be strangled on the stage, which _john_ could not bear, though a dramatick poet may stab or slay by hundreds. the bow-string was not a christian nor an ancient greek or roman death. but this offence was removed after the first night, and irene went off the stage to be strangled.--burney. [ ] according to the _gent. mag_. (xix. ) 'it was acted from monday, feb. , to monday, feb. , inclusive.' a letter in the _garrick corres_, (i. ), dated april , , seems to shew that so long a run was uncommon. the writer addressing garrick says:--'you have now performed it [_tancred_] for nine nights; consider the part, and whether nature can well support the frequent repetition of such shocks. permit me to advise you to resolve not to act upon any account above three times a week.' yet against this may be set the following passage in the _rambler_, no. l :--'at last a malignant author, whose performance i had persecuted through the nine nights, wrote an epigram upon tape the critic, which drove me from the pit for ever.' murphy writing in said that _irene_ had not been exhbited on any stage since its first representation. murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] mr. croker says that 'it appears by a ms. note in isaac reed's copy of murphy's life, that the receipts of the third, sixth, and ninth nights, after deducting sixty guineas a night for the expenses of the house, amounted to £ s.: johnson cleared therefore, with the copyright, very nearly £ .' _irene_ was sold at the price of s. d. a copy (_gent. mag_. xix. ); so that dodsley must have looked for a very large sale. [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_ for johnson's estimate of _irene_ in later life. [ ] aaron hill (vol. ii. p. ), in a letter to mr. mallett, gives the following account of _irene_ after having seen it: 'i was at the anomalous mr. johnson's benefit, and found the play his proper representative; strong sense ungraced by sweetness or decorum.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. [ ] murphy (_life_, p. ) says that some years afterwards, when he knew johnson to be in distress, he asked garrick why he did not produce another tragedy for his lichfield friend? garrick's answer was remarkable: "when johnson writes tragedy, declamation roars, and passion sleeps: when shakespeare wrote; he dipped his pen in his own heart." johnson was perhaps aware of the causes of his failure as a tragedy-writer. in his criticism of addison's _cato_ he says: 'of _cato_ it has been not unjustly determined that it is rather a poem in dialogue than a drama, rather a succession of just sentiments in elegant language than a representation of natural affections, or any state probable or possible in human life ... the events are expected without solicitude, and are remembered without joy or sorrow.... its success has introduced or confirmed among us the use of dialogue too declamatory, of unaffecting elegance and chill philosophy.' _works_, vii. . 'johnson thought: _cato_ the best model of tragedy we had; yet he used to say, of all things the most ridiculous would be to see a girl cry at the representation of it.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . _cato_, if neglected, has added at least eight 'habitual quotations' to the language (see thackeray's _english humourists_, p. ). _irene_ has perhaps not added a single one. it has neverthingless some quotable lines, such as-- 'crowds that hide a monarch from himself.' act i. sc. . 'to cant ... of reason to a lover.' act iii. sc. . 'when e'en as love was breaking off from wonder, and tender accents quiver'd on my lips.' ib. 'and fate lies crowded in a narrow space.' act iii. sc. . 'reflect that life and death, affecting sounds, are only varied modes of endless being.' act ii. sc. . 'directs the planets with a careless nod.' ib. 'far as futurity's untravell'd waste.' act iv. sc. . 'and wake from ignorance the western world.' act iv. sc. . 'through hissing ages a proverbial coward, the tale of women, and the scorn of fools.' act iv. sc. . 'no records but the records of the sky.' ib. '... thou art sunk beneath reproach.' act v. sc. . 'oh hide me from myself.' act v. sc. . [ ] johnson wrote of milton:--'i cannot but conceive him calm and confident, little disappointed, not at all dejected, relying on his own merit with steady consciousness, and waiting without impatience the vicissitudes of opinion, and the impartiality of a future generation.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'genus irritabile vatum.' 'the fretful tribe of rival poets.' francis, _horace_, ep. ii. . . [ ] this deference he enforces in many passages in his writings; as for instance:--'dryden might have observed, that what is good only because it pleases, cannot be pronounced good till it has been found to please.' johnson's _works_, vii. . 'the authority of addison is great; yet the voice of the people, when to please the people is the purpose, deserves regard.' _ib_. . 'about things on which the public thinks long, it commonly attains to think right.' _ib_. . 'these apologies are always useless: "de gustibus non est disputandum;" men may be convinced, but they cannot be pleased against their will.' _ib_. viii. . 'of things that terminate in human life, the world is the proper judge; to despise its sentence, if it were possible, is not just; and if it were just, is not possible.' _ib_. viii. . lord chesterfield in writing to his son about his first appearance in the world said, 'you will be tried and judged there, not as a boy, but as a man; and from that moment _there is no appeal for character_.' lord chesterfield's _letters_, iii. . addison in the _guardian_, no. , had said that 'men of the best sense are always diffident of their private judgment, till it receives a sanction from the public. _provoco ad populum_, i appeal to the people, was the usual saying of a very excellent dramatic poet, when he had any disputes with particular persons about the justness and regularity of his productions.' see _post_, march , . [ ] 'were i,' he said, 'to wear a laced or embroidered waistcoat, it should be very rich. i had once a very rich laced waistcoat, which i wore the first night of my tragedy.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] 'topham beauclerc used to give a pleasant description of this greenroom finery, as related by the author himself: 'but,' said johnson, with great gravity, 'i soon laid aside my gold-laced hat, lest it should make me proud.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . in _the idler_ (no. ) we have an account of a man who had longed to 'issue forth in all the splendour of embroidery.' when his fine clothes were brought, 'i felt myself obstructed,' he wrote, 'in the common intercourse of civility by an uneasy consciousness of my new appearance; as i thought myself more observed, i was more anxious about my mien and behaviour; and the mien which if formed by care is commonly ridiculous.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] _the tatler_ came to an end on jan , - ; the first series of _the spectator_ on dec , ; and the second series of _the spectator_ on december , . [ ] 'two new designs have appeared about the middle of this month [march, ], one entitled, _the tatler revived; or the christian philosopher and politician_, half a sheet, price _d_. (stamped); the other, _the rambler_, three half sheets (un-stamped); price _d_.' _gent. mag_. xx. . [ ] pope's _essay on man_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, under oct. , . [ ] i have heard dr. warton mention, that he was at mr. robert dodsley's with the late mr. moore, and several of his friends, considering what should be the name of the periodical paper which moore had undertaken. garrick proposed _the sallad_, which, by a curious coincidence, was afterwards applied to himself by goldsmith: 'our garrick's a sallad, for in him we see oil, vinegar, sugar, and saltness agree!' [_retaliation_, line ii.] at last, the company having separated, without any thing of which they approved having been offered, dodsley himself thought of _the world_. boswell. [ ] in the original ms. 'in this _my_ undertaking,' and below, 'the salvation _both_ of myself and others.' [ ] prayers and meditations, p. . boswell. [ ] in the original folio edition of the _rambler_ the concluding paper is dated saturday, march . but saturday was in fact march . this circumstance is worth notice, for mrs. johnson died on the th. malone. [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, d edit. p. . [aug. , ]. boswell. [ ] 'gray had a notion not very peculiar, that he could not write but at certain times, or at happy moments; a fantastic foppery, to which my kindness for a man of learning and virtue wishes him to have been superior.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_, under april , . [ ] her correspondence with richardson and mrs. carter was published in . [ ] the correspondence between her and mrs. carter was published in . [ ] dr. birch says:--'the proprietor of the _rambler_, cave, told me that copy was seldom sent to the press till late in the night before the day of publication,' croker's _boswell_, p. , note. see _post_, april , , and beginning of . johnson carefully revised the _ramblers_ for the collected edition. the editor of the oxford edition of johnson's _works_ states (ii. x), that 'the alterations exceeded six thousand.' the following passage from the last number affords a good instance of this revision. _first edition_. 'i have never complied with temporary curiosity, nor furnished my readers with abilities to discuss the topic of the day; i have seldom exemplified my assertions by living characters; from my papers therefore no man could hope either censures of his enemies or praises of himself, and they only could be expected to peruse them, whose passions left them leisure for the contemplation of abstracted truth, and whom virtue could please by her native dignity without the assistance of modish ornaments.' _gent. mag_. xxii. . _revised edition_. 'i have never complied with temporary curiosity, nor enabled my readers to discuss the topic of the day; i have rarely exemplified my assertions by living characters; in my papers no man could look for censures of his enemies, or praises of himself; and they only were expected to peruse them, whose passions left them leisure for abstracted truth, and whom virtue could please by its naked dignity.' johnson's _works_, iii. . [ ] 'such relicks [milton's early manuscripts] shew how excellence is acquired; what we hope ever to do with ease, we must learn first to do with diligence.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] of the first _ramblers_ were wholly by johnson; of the last , . he seems to say that in the first , were written from notes, and in the last only . [ ] no. . [ ] hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. [p. ]. boswell. [ ] 'the sly shadow steals away upon the dial, and the quickest eye can distinguish no more than that it is gone.' glanville, quoted in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] this most beautiful image of the enchanting delusion of youthful prospect has not been used in any of johnson's essays. boswell. [ ] from horace (_ars poet_. . ) he takes his motto for the number:-- 'multa ferunt anni venientes commoda secum, multa recedentes adimunt.' the blessings flowing in with life's full tide down with our ebb of life decreasing glide.' francis. [ ] lib. xii. [ ]. 'in tuccam aemulum omnium suorum studiorum.' malone. [ ] 'there never appear,' says swift, 'more than five or six men of genius in an age; but if they were united, the world could not stand before them.' johnson's _works_, iv. . [ ] in the first edition this is printed [greek: o philoi on philos]; in the second, [greek: o philoi on philos]; in the 'corrections' to the second, we find 'for [greek: o] read [greek: oi];' in the third it is printed as above. in three editions we have therefore five readings of the first word. see _post_, april , , where johnson says: 'an old greek said, "he that has friends has no friend,"' and april , , where he says: 'garrick had friends but no friend.' [ ] 'gravesque principum amicitias.' 'and fatal friendships of the guilty great.' francis, horace, _odes_, ii. . . [ ] _post_, under jan. , . [ ] sir john hawkins has selected from this little collection of materials, what he calls the 'rudiments of two of the papers of the _rambler_.' but he has not been able to read the manuscript distinctly. thus he writes, p. , 'sailor's fate any mansion;' whereas the original is 'sailor's life my aversion.' he has also transcribed the unappropriated hints on _writers for bread_, in which he decyphers these notable passages, one in latin, _fatui non famæ_, instead of _fami non famæ_; johnson having in his mind what thuanus says of the learned german antiquary and linguist, xylander, who, he tells us, lived in such poverty, that he was supposed _fami non famæ scribere_; and another in french, _degente de fate [fatu] et affamé a'argent_, instead of _dégouté de fame_, (an old word for _renommée_) _et affamé d'argent_. the manuscript being written in an exceedingly small hand, is indeed very hard to read; but it would have been better to have left blanks than to write nonsense. boswell. [ ] when we know that of the _ramblers_ all but five were written by johnson, it is amusing to read a passage in one of miss talbot's letters to mrs. carter, dated oct. , :--'mr. johnson would, i fear, be mortified to hear that people know a paper of his own by the sure mark of somewhat a little excessive, a little exaggerated in the expression.' _carter corres_. i. . [ ] the _ramblers_ certainly were little noticed at first. smart, the poet, first mentioned them to me as excellent papers, before i had heard any one else speak of them. when i went into norfolk, in the autumn of , i found but one person, (the rev. mr. squires, a man of learning, and a general purchaser of new books,) who knew anything of them. before i left norfolk in the year , the _ramblers_ were in high favour among persons of learning and good taste. others there were, devoid of both, who said that the _hard words_ in the _rambler_ were used by the authour to render his _dictionary_ indispensably necessary. burney. we have notices of the _rambler_ in the _carter corres_:--'may , . the author ought to be cautioned not to use over many hard words. in yesterday's paper (a very pretty one indeed) we had _equiponderant, and another so hard i cannot remember it [adscititious], both in one sentence.' 'dec. , :--mr. cave complains of him for not admitting correspondents; this does mischief. in the main i think he is to be applauded for it. but why then does he not write now and then on the living manners of the times?' in writing on april , , just after the _rambler_ had come to an end, miss talbot says:--'indeed 'tis a sad thing that such a paper should have met with discouragement from wise and learned and good people too. many are the disputes it has cost me, and not once did i come off triumphant.' mrs. carter replied:--'many a battle have i too fought for him in the country, out with little success.' murphy says:--'of this excellent production the number sold on each day did not amount to five hundred; of course the bookseller, who paid the author four guineas a week, did not carry on a successful trade.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] richardson wrote to cave on aug. , , after forty-one numbers had appeared:--'i hope the world tastes them; for its own sake i hope the world tastes them. the author i can only guess at. there is but one man, i think, that could write them.' _rich. corres_, i. . cave replied:--'mr. johnson is the _great rambler_, being, as you observe, the only man who can furnish two such papers in a week, besides his other great business.' he mentioned the recommendation it received from high quarters, and continued:--'notwithstanding, whether the price of two-pence, or the unfavourable season of their first publication hinders the demand, no boast can be made of it.' johnson had not wished his name to be known. cave says that 'mr. carrick and others, who knew the author's powers and style from the first, unadvisedly asserting their suspicions, overturned the scheme of secrecy.' _ib_. pp. - . [ ] horace walpole, while justifying george ii. against 'bookish men who have censured his neglect of literature,' says:--'in truth, i believe king george would have preferred a guinea to a composition as perfect as _alexander's feast.' reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] 'dr. johnson said to an acquaintance of mine, "my other works are wine and water; but my _rambler_ is pure wine."' rogers's _table talk_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , ; april , ; and april , . [ ] it was executed in the printing-office of sands, murray, and cochran, with uncommon elegance, upon writing-paper, of a duodecimo size, and with the greatest correctness; and mr. elphinston enriched it with translations of the mottos. when completed, it made eight handsome volumes. it is, unquestionably, the most accurate and beautiful edition of this work; and there being but a small impression, it is now become scarce, and sells at a very high price. boswell. [ ] mr. thomas ruddiman, the learned grammarian of scotland, well known for his various excellent works, and for his accurate editions of several authours. he was also a man of a most worthy private character. his zeal for the royal house of stuart did not render him less estimable in dr. johnson's eye. boswell. [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for sept. , and for oct. , translations of many of the mottoes were given; but in each number there are several of elphinston's. johnson seems to speak of only one. [ ] writing to miss porter on july , , he said:--'i was afraid your letter had brought me ill news of my mother, whose death is one of the few calamities on which i think with terror.' crokers _boswell_, p. . [ ] mr. strahan was elphinston's brother-in-law. _post_, april , . [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for january, , in the list of books published is:--'a correct and beautiful edition of the rambler in volumes, in mo. price s.' the _rambler_ was not concluded till the following march. the remaining two volumes were published in july. _gent. mag_. xxii. . [ ] according to hawkins (_life_, p. ) each edition consisted of copies. [ ] no. [ .]. boswell. [ ] miss burney records in her diary that one day at streatham, while she and mrs. thrale 'were reading this rambler, dr. johnson came in. we told him what we were about. "ah, madam!" cried he, "goldsmith was not scrupulous; but he would have been a great man had he known the real value of his own internal resources."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _post_, beginning of . [ ] it is possible that mrs. hardcastle's drive in _she stoops to conquer_ was suggested by the _rambler_, no. . in it a young gentleman describes a lady's terror on a coach journey. 'our whole conversation passed in dangers, and cares, and fears, and consolations, and stories of ladies dragged in the mire, forced to spend all the night on a heath, drowned in rivers, or burnt with lightning.... we had now a new scene of terror, every man we saw was a robber, and we were ordered sometimes to drive hard, lest a traveller whom we saw behind should overtake us; and sometimes to stop, lest we should come up to him who was passing before us. she alarmed many an honest man by begging him to spare her life as he passed by the coach.' [ ] dr. johnson was gratified by seeing this selection, and wrote to mr. kearsley, bookseller in fleet-street, the following note:-- 'mr. johnson sends compliments to mr. kearsley, and begs the favour of seeing him as soon as he can. mr. kearsley is desired to bring with him the last edition of what he has honoured with the name of beauties. may , .' boswell. the correspondence, _post_, may , , shews that johnson sent for this book, not because he was gratified, but because he was accused, on the strength of one of the _beauties_, of recommending suicide. on that day, being in the country, he wrote: 'i never saw the book but by casual inspection, and considered myself as utterly disengaged from its consequences.' he adds:--'i hope some time in the next week to have all rectified.' the letter of may shews that on his return to town he lost little time, if any, in sending for kearsley. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] ecclesiastes vii. . [ ] in the original '_separated sooner_ than subdued.' johnson acted up to what he said. when he was close on his end, 'all who saw him beheld and acknowledged the _invictum animum catonis_ ... talking of his illness he said:--"i will be conquered; i will not capitulate."' see _post_, oct. . [ ] in the _spectator_, no. , addison tells of a village in which 'there arose a current report that somebody had written a book against the 'squire and the whole parish.' the book was _the whole duty of man_. [ ] 'the character of prospero was, beyond all question, occasioned by garrick's ostentatious display of furniture and dresden china.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . if garrick was aimed at, it is surprising that the severity of the satire did not bring to an end, not only all friendship, but even any acquaintance between the two men. the writer describes how he and prospero had set out in the world together, and how for a long time they had assisted each other, till his friend had been lately raised to wealth by a lucky project. 'i felt at his sudden shoot of success an honest and disinterested joy.' prospero reproached him with his neglect to visit him at his new house. when however he went to see him, he found that his friend's impatience 'arose not from any desire to communicate his happiness, but to enjoy his superiority.' he was kept waiting at the door, and when at length he was shewn up stairs, he found the staircase carefully secured by mats from the pollution of his feet. prospero led him into a backroom, where he told him he always breakfasted when he had not great company. after the visitor had endured one act of insolence after another, he says:--'i left him without any intention of seeing him again, unless some misfortune should restore his understanding.' _rambler_, no. . see _post_, may , , where johnson, speaking of the charge of meanness brought against garrick, said, 'he might have been much better attacked for living with more splendour than is suitable to a player.' [ ] in c. c. greville's _journal_ (ii. ) we have an instance how stories about johnson grew. he writes:--'lord holland told some stories of johnson and garrick which he had heard from kemble.... when garrick was in the zenith of his popularity, and grown rich, and lived with the great, and while johnson was yet obscure, the doctor used to drink tea with him, and he would say, "davy, i do not envy you your money nor your fine acquaintance, but i envy you your power of drinking such tea as this." "yes," said garrick, "it is very good tea, but it is not my best, nor that which i give to my lord this and sir somebody t'other."' there can be little doubt that the whole story is founded on the following passage in the character of prospero: 'breakfast was at last set, and, as i was not willing to indulge the peevishness that began to seize me, i commended the tea. prospero then told me that another time i should taste his finest sort, but that he had only a very small quantity remaining, and reserved it for those whom he thought himself obliged to treat with particular respect.' see _post_, april , , where johnson maintained that garrick bore his good-fortune with modesty. [ ] no . [ ] yet his style did not escape the harmless shafts of pleasant humour; for the ingenious bonnell thornton published a mock rambler in the _drury-lane journal_. boswell. murphy (_life_, p. ), criticising the above quotation from johnson, says:--'he forgot the observation of dryden: "if too many foreign words are poured in upon us, it looks as if they were designed, not to assist the natives, but to conquer them."' [ ] _idler_, no. . boswell. in the same number johnson writes:--'few faults of style, whether real or imaginary, excite the malignity of a more numerous class of readers than the use of hard words.... but words are hard only to those who do not understand them; and the critic ought always to inquire, whether he is incommoded by the fault of the writer or by his own. every author does not write for every reader.' see _post_, sept. , , where johnson says:--'if robertson's style be faulty he owes it to me; that is, having too many words, and those too big ones.' [ ] the following passages in temple's writings shew that a likeness may be discovered between his style and johnson's:--'there may be firmness and constancy of courage from tradition as well as of belief: nor, methinks, should any man know how to be a coward, that is brought up with the opinion, that all of his nation or city have ever been valiant.' temple's _works_, i. . 'this is a disease too refined for this country and people, who are well, when they are not ill, and pleased, when they are not troubled; are content, because they think little of it; and seek their happiness in the common eases and commodities of life, or the increase of riches; not amusing themselves with the more speculative contrivances of passion, or refinements of pleasure.' _ib_. p. . 'they send abroad the best of their own butter into all parts, and buy the cheapest out of ireland, or the north of england, for their own use. in short they furnish infinite luxury which they never practise, and traffic in pleasures which they never taste.' _ib_. p. . see _post_, april , , where johnson says:--'temple was the first writer who gave cadence to english prose.' [ ] dean stanley calls ephraim chambers 'the father of cyclopedias.' _memorials of westminster abbey_, p. , note. the epitaph which chambers wrote for himself the dean gives as:--'multis pervulgatus, paucis notus, qui vitam inter lucem et umbram, nec eruditus nec idioticis literis deditus, transegit.' in the _gent. mag_. for , p. , the last line is given, no doubt correctly, as:--'nec eruditus nec idiota, literis deditus.' the second edition of chambers's _cyclopaedia_ was published in . there is no copy of his proposal in the british museum or bodleian. the resemblance between his style and johnson's is not great. the following passage is the most johnsonian that i could find:--'none of my predecessors can blame me for the use i have made of them; since it is their own avowed practice. it is a kind of privilege attached to the office of lexicographer; if not by any formal grant, yet by connivance at least. i have already assumed the bee for my device, and who ever brought an action of trover or trespass against that avowed free-booter? 'tis vain to pretend anything of property in things of this nature. to offer our thoughts to the public, and yet pretend a right reserved therein to oneself, if it be not absurd, yet it is sordid. the words we speak, nay the breath we emit, is not more vague and common than our thoughts, when divulged in print.' chambers's preface, p. xxiii. [ ] 'there were giants in the earth in those days.' _gen_. vi. . [ ] a great personage first appears in the second edition. in the first edition we merely find 'by one whose authority,' &c. boswell in his _hebrides_, aug. , , speaks of george iii. as 'a great personage.' in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ) he thus introduces an anecdote about the king--and paoli:--'i have one other circumstance to communicate; but it is of the highest value. i communicate it with a mixture of awe and fondness.--that great personage, who is allowed by all to have the best _memory_ of any man _born a briton_, &c. in the _probationary odes for the laureateship_, published a few months after boswell's _letter_, a 'great personage' is ludicrously introduced; pp. xxx. . [ ] the first nine lines form the motto. [ ] horat. _epist_. lib. ii. epist. ii. { , } boswell. but how severely with themselves proceed the men, who write such verse as we can read! their own strict judges, not a word they spare that wants or force, or light, or weight, or care, howe'er unwillingly it quits its place, nay, though at court, perhaps, it may find grace: such they'll degrade; and some-times, in its stead, in downright charity revive the dead; mark where a bold expressive phrase appears, bright through the rubbish of some hundred years; command old words that long have slept to wake, words that wise bacon or brave rawleigh spake; or bid the new be english, ages hence, (for use will father what's begot by sense;) pour the full tide of eloquence along, serenely pure, and yet divinely strong, rich with the treasures of each foreign tongue.' pope, _imitations of horace_, ii. . [ ] 'horat. _de arte poetica_. [ . .] boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , where boswell says that up that date he had twice heard johnson coin words, _peregrinity_ and _depeditation_. [ ] 'the words which our authors have introduced by their knowledge of foreign languages, or ignorance of their own, by vanity or wantonness, by compliance with fashion or lust of innovation, i have registered as they occurred, though commonly only to censure them, and warn others against the folly of naturalizing useless foreigners to the injury of the natives.... our language for almost a century has, by the concurrence of many causes, been gradually departing from its original teutonick character, and deviating towards a gallick structure and phraseology, from which it ought to be our endeavour to recall it, by making our ancient volumes the groundwork of style.... from the authors which rose in the time of elizabeth a speech might be formed adequate to all the purposes of use and elegance.' johnson's _works_, v. pp. , . see _post_. may , . [ ] if johnson sometimes indulged his _brownism_ (see _post_, beginning of ), yet he saw much to censure in browne's style. 'his style is, indeed, a tissue of many languages; a mixture of heterogeneous words, brought together from distant regions, with terms originally appropriated to one art, and drawn by violence into the service of another. he must however be confessed to have augmented our philosophical diction.... his innovations are sometimes pleasing, and his temerities happy.' johnson's _works_, vi. . 'it is remarkable that the pomp of diction, which has been objected to johnson, was first assumed in the _rambler_. his _dictionary_ was going on at the same time, and in the course of that work, as he grew familiar with technical and scholastic words, he thought that the bulk of his readers were equally learned; or at least would admire the splendour and dignity of the style.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . 'the observation of his having imitated sir thomas brown has been made by many people; and lately it has been insisted on, and illustrated by a variety of quotations from brown, in one of the popular essays written by the reverend mr. knox [the essay is no. xxii. of _winter evenings_, knox's _works_, ii ], master of tumbridge school, whom i have set down in my list [_post_, under dec. , ] of those who have sometimes not unsuccessfully imitated dr. johnson's style. boswell. [ ] the following observation in mr. boswell's _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ [p. ] may sufficiently account for that gentleman's being 'now scarcely esteem'd a scot' by many of his countrymen:--if he [dr. johnson] was particularly prejudiced against the scots, it was because they were more in his way; because he thought their success in england rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit; and because he could not but see in them that nationality which, i believe, no liberal-minded scotchman will deny.' mr. boswell, indeed, is so free from national prejudices, that he might with equal propriety have been described as-- 'scarce by _south_ britons now esteem'd a scot.' courtenay. boswell. [ ] malone says that 'baretti used sometimes to walk with johnson through the streets at night, and occasionally entered into conversation with the unfortunate women who frequent them, for the sake of hearing their stories. it was from a history of one of these, which a girl told under a tree in the king's bench walk in the temple to baretti and johnson, that he formed the story of misella in the _rambler_ [nos. and ].' prior's _malone_, p. . 'of one [of these women] who was very handsome he asked, for what she thought god had given her so much beauty. she answered:--"to please gentlemen."' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . see also _post_, under dec. , . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) had said that 'the characteristics of addison's style are feebleness and inanity.' he was thus happily ridiculed by person:--'soon after the publication of sir john's book, a parcel of eton boys, not having the fear of god before their eyes, etc., instead of playing truant, robbing orchards, annoying poultry, or performing any other part of their school exercise, fell foul in print (see the _microcosm_, no. ) upon his worship's censure of addison's _middling_ style.... but what can you expect, as lord kames justly observes, from a school where boys are taught to rob on the highway?' person, _tracts_, p. . [ ] _works_, vii. . [ ] when johnson shewed me a proof-sheet of the character of addison, in which he so highly extols his style, i could not help observing, that it had not been his own model, as no two styles could differ more from each other.--'sir, addison had his style, and i have mine.'--when i ventured to ask him, whether the difference did not consist in this, that addison's style was full of idioms, colloquial phrases, and proverbs; and his own more strictly grammatical, and free from such phraseology and modes of speech as can never be literally translated or understood by foreigners; he allowed the discrimination to be just.--let any one who doubts it, try to translate one of addison's _spectators_ into latin, french, or italian; and though so easy, familiar, and elegant, to an englishman, as to give the intellect no trouble; yet he would find the transfusion into another language extremely difficult, if not impossible. but a _rambler_, _adventurer_, or _idler_, of johnson, would fall into any classical or european language, as easily as if it had been originally conceived in it. burney. mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) recounts how johnson recommended addison's works as a model for imitation to mr. woodhouse, a poetical shoemaker. '"give nights and days, sir, (said he) to the study of addison, if you mean either to be a good writer, or, what is more worth, an honest man." when i saw something like the same expression in his criticism on that author, i put him in mind of his past injunctions to the young poet, to which he replied, "that he wished the shoemaker might have remembered them as well."' yet he says in his _life of pope ( works_, viii. ), 'he that has once studiously formed a style rarely writes afterwards with complete ease.' [ ] i shall probably, in another work, maintain the merit of addison's poetry, which has been very unjustly depreciated. boswell. he proposed also to publish an edition of johnson's poems (_ante_, p. ), an account of his own travels (_post_, april , ), a collection, with notes, of old tenures and charters of scotland (_post_, oct. , ), and a history of james iv. of scotland, 'the patron,' as he said, 'of my family' (boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , ). [ ] lewis thus happily translates the lines in _martial_,-- 'diligat ilia senèm quondam: sed et ipsa marito, tunc quoque cum fuerit, non videatur, anus. 'wrinkled with age, may mutual love and truth to their dim eyes recall the bloom of youth.' _rambler_, no. . some of johnson's own translations are happy, as:-- 'quam juvat immites ventos audire cubantem aut, gelidas hibernus aquas quum fuderit auster, securum somnos, imbre juvante, sequi! 'how sweet in sleep to pass the careless hours, lull'd by the beating winds and dashing show'rs.' _ib_. no. . [ ] [greek: augon ek makaron antaxios eiae amoibae.] 'celestial powers! that piety regard, from you my labours wait their last reward.' a modification of the greek line is engraved on the scroll in johnson's monument in st. paul's (_post_, dec. ). [ ] 'the essays professedly serious, if i have been able to execute my own intentions, will be found exactly conformable to the precepts of christianity.... i therefore look back on this part of my work with pleasure, which no blame or praise of man shall diminish or augment.' _rambler_, no. . [ ] i have little doubt that this attack on the concluding verse is an indirect blow at hawkins, who had quoted the whole passage, and had clearly thought it the more 'awful' on account of the couplet. see hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] in the original _raleigh's_. [ ] the italics are boswell's. [ ] mrs. williams is probably the person meant. boswell. [ ] 'in , april , _comus_ was played for her benefit. she had so little acquaintance with diversion or gaiety, that she did not know what was intended when a benefit was theatre was offered her. the profits of the night were only £ , though dr. newton brought a large contribution; and £ were given by tonson, a man who is to be praised as often as he is named.... this was the greatest benefaction that _paradise lost_ ever procured the author's descendants; and to this he who has now attempted to relate his life had the honour of contributing a prologue.' johnson's _works, vii. _. in the _gent. mag_. (xx. ) we read that, as on 'april , the night first appointed, many in convenient circumstances happened to disappoint the hopes of success, the managers generously quitted the profits of another night, in which the theatre was expected to be fuller. mr. samuel johnson's prologue was afterwards printed for mrs. foster's benefit.' [ ] johnson is thinking of pope's lines-- 'but still the great have kindness in reserve, he helped to bury whom he helped to starve.' prologue to the _satires_, . . in the _life of milton_ he writes:--'in our time a monument has been erected in westminster abbey _to the author of paradise lost_ by mr. benson, who has in the inscription bestowed more words upon himself than upon milton.' johnson's _works_, vii. . pope has a hit at benson in the _dunciad_, iii. :-- 'on poets' tombs see benson's titles writ!' moore, describing sheridan's funeral, says:--'it was well remarked by a french journal, in contrasting the penury of sheridan's latter years with the splendour of his funeral, that "france is the place for a man of letters to live in, and england the place for him to die in."' moore himself wrote:-- 'how proud they can press to the funeral array of him whom they shunned in his sickness and sorrow-- how bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow.' moore's _sheridan_, ii. - . [ ] johnson's _works_, i. . [ ] among the advertisements in the _gent. mag_. for february of this year is the following:--'_an elegy wrote in a country churchyard, d_.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'lest there should be any person, at any future period, absurd enough to suspect that johnson was a partaker in lauder's fraud, or had any knowledge of it, when he assisted him with his masterly pen, it is proper here to quote the words of dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, at the time when he detected the imposition. 'it is to be hoped, nay it is _expected_, that the elegant and nervous writer, whose judicious sentiments and inimitable style point out the authour of lauder's preface and postscript, will no longer allow one to _plume himself with his feathers_, who appeareth so little to deserve [his] assistance: an assistance which i am persuaded would never have been communicated, had there been the least suspicion of those facts which i have been the instrument of conveying to the world in these sheets.' _milton no plagiary_, nd edit. p. . and his lordship has been pleased now to authorise me to say, in the strongest manner, that there is no ground whatever for any unfavourable reflection against dr. johnson, who expressed the strongest indignation against lauder. boswell. to this letter lauder had the impudence to add a shameless postscript and some 'testimonies' concerning himself. though on the face of it it is evident that this postscript is not by johnson, yet it is included in his works (v. ). the letter was dated dec. , . in the _gent. mag_. for the next month (xxi. ) there is the following paragraph:--'mr. lauder confesses here and exhibits all his forgeries; for which he assigns one motive in the book, and after asking pardon assigns another in the postscript; he also takes an opportunity to publish several letters and testimonials to his former character.' goldsmith in retaliation has a hit at lauder:-- 'here douglas retires from his toils to relax, the scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks. new lauders and bowers the tweed shall cross over, no countryman living their tricks to discover.' dr. douglas was afterwards bishop of salisbury (_ante_, p. ). see _post_, june , , for the part he took in exposing the cock lane ghost imposture. [ ] scott writing to southey in said:--'a witty rogue the other day, who sent me a letter signed detector, proved me guilty of stealing a passage from one of vida's latin poems, which i had never seen or heard of.' the passage alleged to be stolen ends with,-- 'when pain and anguish wring the brow, a ministering angel thou!' which in vida _ad eranen. el_. ii. v. , ran,-- 'cum dolor atque supercilio gravis imminet angor, fungeris angelico sola ministerio.' 'it is almost needless to add,' says mr. lockhart, 'there are no such lines.' _life of scott_, iii. . [ ] the greater part of this preface was given in the _gent. mag_. for august (xvii. ). [ ] 'persuasive' is scarcely a fit description for this noble outburst of indignation on the part of one who knew all the miseries of poverty. after quoting dr. newton's account of the distress to which milton's grand-daughter had been reduced, he says:--'that this relation is true cannot be questioned: but surely the honour of letters, the dignity of sacred poetry, the spirit of the english nation, and the glory of human nature require--that it should be true no longer.... in an age, which amidst all its vices and all its follies has not become infamous for want of charity, it may be surely allowed to hope, that the living remains of milton will be no longer suffered to languish in distress.' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] in the original _retrospection_. johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] in this same year johnson thus ends a severe criticism on _samson agonistes_: 'the everlasting verdure of milton's laurels has nothing to fear from the blasts of malignity; nor can my attempt produce any other effect than to strengthen their shoots by lopping their luxuriance.' _the rambler_, no. . 'mr. nichols shewed johnson in a book called _remarks on johnson's life of milton_, in which the affair of lauder was renewed with virulence. he read the libellous passage with attention, and instantly wrote on the margin:--"in the business of lauder i was deceived; partly by thinking the man too frantic to be fraudulent.'" murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] 'johnson turned his house,' writes lord macaulay, 'into a place of refuge for a crowd of wretched old creatures who could find no other asylum; nor could all their peevishness and ingratitude weary out his benevolence' (_essays_, i. ). in his _biography of johnson_ (p. ) he says that mrs. williams's 'chief recommendations were her blindness and her poverty.' no doubt in johnson's letters to mrs. thrale are found amusing accounts of the discord of the inmates of his house. but it is abundantly clear that in mrs. williams's company he had for years found pleasure. a few months after her death he wrote to mrs. thrale: 'you have more than once wondered at my complaint of solitude, when you hear that i am crowded with visits. _inopem me copia fecit_. visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of sickness.... the amusements and consolations of languor and depression are conferred by familiar and domestic companions.... such society i had with levett and williams' (_piozzi letters_, ii. ). to mrs. montagu he wrote:--'thirty years and more she had been my companion, and her death has left me very desolate' (croker's _boswell_, p. ). boswell says that 'her departure left a blank in his house' (_post_, aug. ). 'by her death,' writes murphy, 'he was left in a state of destitution, with nobody but his black servant to soothe his anxious moments' (murphy's _johnson_, p. ). hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'she had not only cheered him in his solitude, and helped him to pass with comfort those hours which otherwise would have been irksome to him, but had relieved him from domestic cares, regulated and watched over the expenses of his house, etc.' 'she had,' as boswell says (_post_, aug. ), 'valuable qualities.' 'had she had,' wrote johnson, 'good humour and prompt elocution, her universal curiosity and comprehensive knowledge would have made her the delight of all that knew her' (_piozzi letters_, ii. ). to langton he wrote:--'i have lost a companion to whom i have had recourse for domestic amusement for thirty years, and whose variety of knowledge never was exhausted' (_post_, sept. , ). 'her acquisitions,' he wrote to dr. burney, 'were many and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of every conversation' (_post_, sept. ). murphy (_life_ p. ) says:--'she possessed uncommon talents, and, though blind, had an alacrity of mind that made her conversation agreeable, and even desirable.' according to hawkins (_life_, - ) 'she had acquired a knowledge of french and italian, and had made great improvements in literature. she was a woman of an enlightened understanding. johnson in many exigencies found her an able counsellor, and seldom shewed his wisdom more than when he hearkened to her advice.' perhaps johnson had her in his thoughts when, writing of pope's last years and martha blount, he said:--'their acquaintance began early; the life of each was pictured on the other's mind; their conversation therefore was endearing, for when they met there was an immediate coalition of congenial notions.' (johnson's _works_, viii. .) miss mulso (mrs. chapone) writing to mrs. carter in , says:--'i was charmed with mr. johnson's behaviour to mrs. williams, which was like that of a fond father to his daughter. she shewed very good sense, with a great deal of modesty and humility; and so much patience and cheerfulness under her misfortune that it doubled my concern for her' (_mrs. chapone's life_, p. ). miss talbot wrote to mrs. carter in :--'my mother the other day fell in love with your friend, mrs. williams, whom we met at mr. richardson's [where miss mulso also had met her], and is particularly charmed with the sweetness of her voice' (talbot and carter _corresp_. ii. ). miss talbot was a niece of lord chancellor talbot. hannah more wrote in :--'mrs. williams is engaging in her manners; her conversation lively and entertaining' (more's _memoirs_, i. ). boswell, however, more than once complains that she was 'peevish' (_post_, oct. , and april , ). at a time when she was very ill, and had gone into the country to try if she could improve her health, johnson wrote:--'age, and sickness, and pride have made her so peevish, that i was forced to bribe the maid to stay with her by a secret stipulation of half-a-crown a week over her wages' (_post_, july , ). malone, in a note on august , , says that he thinks she had of her own 'about £ or £ a year.' this was in her latter days; johnson had prevailed on garrick to give her a benefit and mrs. montagu to give her a pension. she used, he adds, to help in the house-work. [ ] march . see _ante_, p. , note . he had grown weary of his work. in the last _rambler_ but one he wrote: 'when once our labour has begun, the comfort that enables us to endure it is the prospect of its end.... he that is himself weary will soon weary the public. let him therefore lay down his employment, whatever it be, who can no longer exert his former activity or attention; let him not endeavour to struggle with censure, or obstinately infest the stage, till a general hiss commands him to depart.' [ ] how successful an imitator hawkesworth was is shewn by the following passage in the carter and talbot _corresp_., ii. :--'i discern mr. johnson through all the papers that are not marked a, as evidently as if i saw him through the keyhole with the pen in his hand.' [ ] in the _rambler_ for feb. of this year (no. ) he wrote in the following melancholy strain:--'every period of life is obliged to borrow its happiness from the time to come. in youth we have nothing past to entertain us, and in age we derive little from retrospect but hopeless sorrow. yet the future likewise has its limits which the imagination dreads to approach, but which we see to be not far distant. the loss of our friends and companions impresses hourly upon us the necessity of our own departure; we know that the schemes of man are quickly at an end, that we must soon lie down in the grave with the forgotten multitudes of former ages, and yield our place to others, who, like us, shall be driven a while by hope or fear about the surface of the earth, and then like us be lost in the shades of death.' in _prayers and meditations_, pp. - , in a service that he used on may , 'as preparatory to my return to life to-morrow,' he prays:--'enable me to begin and perfect that reformation which i promised her, and to persevere in that resolution which she implored thee to continue, in the purposes which i recorded in thy sight when she lay dead before me.' see _post_, jan. , . the author of _memoirs of the life and writings of dr. johnson_, , says, p. , that on the death of his wife, 'to walk the streets of london was for many a lonesome night johnson's constant substitute for sleep.' [ ] 'i have often been inclined to think that, if this fondness of johnson for his wife was not dissembled, it was a lesson that he had learned by rote, and that, when he practised it, he knew not where to stop till he became ridiculous.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. [ ] the son of william strahan, m.p., 'johnson's old and constant friend, printer to his majesty' (_post_, under april , ). he attended johnson on his death-bed, and published the volume called _prayers and meditations_. [ ] southey in his _life of wesley_, i. , writes:--'the universal attention which has been paid to dreams in all ages proves that the superstition is natural; and i have heard too many well-attested facts (facts to which belief could not be refused upon any known laws of evidence) not to believe that impressions are sometimes made in this manner, and forewarnings communicated, which cannot be explained by material philosophy or mere metaphysics.' [ ] warburton in his _divine legation_, i. , quotes the 'famous sepulchral inscription of the roman widow.' 'ita peto vos manes sanctissimi commendatum habeatis meum conjugem et velitis huic indulgentissimi esse horis nocturnis ut eum videam,' etc. [ ] mrs. boswell died in june . johnson's prayer with boswell's comments on it was first inserted in the _additions_ to the second edition. [ ] mrs. johnson died on march , o. s., or march , n. s. the change of style was made in september, . he might have kept either the th, or the th as the anniversary. in like manner, though he was born on sept. , after the change he kept the th as his birth-day. see _post_, beginning of , where he writes, 'jan. , n. s., which i shall use for the future.' [ ] in _prayers and meditations_, p. , he recorded: 'the melancholy of this day hung long upon me.' p. : 'april , , thought on tetty, dear, poor tetty, with my eyes full.' p. : 'march , . this is the day on which, in , i was deprived of poor, dear tetty.... when i recollect the time in which we lived together, my grief for her departure is not abated; and i have less pleasure in any good that befalls me because she does not partake it.' p. : 'april , . poor tetty, whatever were our faults and failings, we loved each other. i did not forget thee yesterday [easter sunday]. couldest thou have lived!' p. : 'march , . this is the day on which, in , dear tetty died. i have now uttered a prayer of repentance and contrition; perhaps tetty knows that i prayed for her. perhaps tetty is now praying for me. god help me.' in a letter to mrs. thrale on the occasion of the death of her son (dated march , ) he thus refers to the loss of his wife:--'i know that a whole system of hopes, and designs, and expectations is swept away at once, and nothing left but bottomless vacuity. what you feel i have felt, and hope that your disquiet will be shorter than mine.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in a letter to mr. elphinston, who had just lost his wife, written on july , , he repeats the same thought:--'a loss such as yours lacerates the mind, and breaks the whole system of purposes and hopes. it leaves a dismal vacuity in life, which affords nothing on which the affections can fix, or to which endeavour may be directed. all this i have known.' croker's _boswell_, p. , note. see also _post_, his letter to mr. warton of dec. , , and to dr. lawrence of jan. , . [ ] in the usual monthly list of deaths in the _gent. mag_. her name is not given. johnson did not, i suppose, rank among 'eminent persons.' [ ] irene, act i. sc. . [ ] see _post_, nov. , , note. [ ] the anderdon mss. contain an importunate letter, dated july , , from one mitchell, a tradesman in chandos-street, pressing johnson to pay £ , due by his wife ever since august, , and threatening legal proceedings to enforce payment. this letter mr. boswell had endorsed, 'proof of dr. johnson's wretched circumstances in .' croker. [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for february, , (p. ,) was printed a letter pretending to be that written by johnson on the death of his wife. but it is merely a transcript of the st number of _the idler_. a fictitious date (march , , o. s.) was added by some person previous to this paper being sent to the publisher of that miscellany, to give a colour to this deception. malone. [ ] francis barber was born in jamaica, and was brought to england in by colonel bathurst, father of johnson's very intimate friend, dr. bathurst. he was sent, for some time, to the reverend mr. jackson's school, at barton, in yorkshire. the colonel by his will left him his freedom, and dr. bathurst was willing that he should enter into johnson's service, in which he continued from till johnson's death, with the exception of two intervals; in one of which, upon some difference with his master, he went and served an apothecary in cheapside, but still visited dr. johnson occasionally; in another, he took a fancy to go to sea. part of the time, indeed, he was, by the kindness of his master, at a school in northamptonshire, that he might have the advantage of some learning. so early and so lasting a connection was there between dr. johnson and this humble friend. boswell. 'i believe that francis was scarcely as much the object of mr. johnson's personal kindness as the representative of dr. bathurst, for whose sake he would have loved anybody or anything.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] 'i asked him,' writes mrs. piozzi (_anec_. pp. - ), 'if he ever disputed with his wife. "perpetually," said he; "my wife had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber. a clean floor is so comfortable, she would say sometimes by way of twitting; till at last i told her that i thought we had had talk enough about the floor, we would now have a touch at the ceiling." i asked him if he ever huffed his wife about his dinner. "so often," replied he, "that at last she called to me and said, nay, hold, mr. johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking god for a dinner which in a few minutes you will protest not eatable."' [ ] 'when a friend is carried to his grave, we at once find excuses for every weakness, and palliations of every fault; we recollect a thousand endearments, which before glided off our minds without impression, a thousand favours unrepaid, a thousand duties unperformed; and wish, vainly wish, for his return, not so much that we may receive, as that we may bestow happiness, and recompense that kindness which before we never understood.' _rambler_, no. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. [ ] see _post_, oct. , , where the roman catholic doctrine of purgatory or 'a middle state,' as johnson calls it is discussed, and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] in the original, 'lawful _for_ me.' much the same prayer johnson made for his mother. _pr. and med_. p. . on easter day, , he records:--'after sermon i recommended tetty in a prayer by herself; and my father, mother, brother, and bathurst in another. i did it only once, so far as it might be lawful for me.' _ib_. p. . on the death of mr. thrale he wrote, 'may god that delighteth in mercy _have had_ mercy on thee.' _ib_. p. ; and later on, 'for henry thrale, so far as is lawful, i humbly implore thy mercy in his present state.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _pr. and med_., p. . boswell. [ ] shortly before his death (see _post,_ july , ) johnson had a stone placed over her grave with the following inscription:-- hic conduntur reliquiae elizabethÆ antiqua jarvisiorum leicestrienses, ortae; formosae, cultae, ingeniosae, piae; uxoris, primis nuptiis, henrici porter, secundis samuelis johnson: qui multum amatam, diuque defletam hoc lapide contexit. obiit londini mense mart. a.d. mdccliii as mrs. johnson died in , the date is wrong. [ ] see _post_, sept. . . [ ] he described her as a woman 'whom none, who were capable of distinguishing either moral or intellectual excellence, could know without esteem or tenderness. she was extensively charitable in her judgements and opinions, grateful for every kindness that she received, and willing to impart assistance of every kind to all whom her little power enabled her to benefit. she passed through many months of languor, weakness, and decay without a single murmur of impatience, and often expressed her adoration of that mercy which granted her so long time for recollection and penitence.' johnson's _works,_ ix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] dr. bathurst, though a physician of no inconsiderable merit, had not the good fortune to get much practice in london. he was, therefore willing to accept of employment abroad, and, to the regret of all who knew him, fell a sacrifice to the destructive climate, in the expedition against the havannah. mr. langton recollects the following passage in a letter from dr. johnson to mr. beauclerk: 'the havannah is taken;--a conquest too dearly obtained; for, bathurst died before it. "_vix priamus tanti totaque troja fuit_."' boswell. the quotation is from ovid, _heroides_, i. . johnson (_post_, dec. , ) wrote to baretti, 'bathurst went physician to the army, and died at the havannah.' mr. harwood in his _history of lichfield_, p. , gives two letters from bathurst to johnson dated . in the postscript to one he says:--'i know you will call me a lazy dog, and in truth i deserve it; but i am afraid i shall never mend. i have indeed long known that i can love my friends without being able to tell them so.... adieu my dearest friend.' he calls johnson 'the best of friends, to whom i stand indebted for all the little virtue and knowledge that i have.' 'nothing,' he continues, 'i think, but absolute want can force me to continue where i am.' jamaica he calls 'this execrable region.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'bathurst, before leaving england, confessed to johnson that in the course of ten years' exercise of his faculty he had never opened his hand to more than one guinea.' johnson perhaps had bathurst in mind when, many years later, he wrote:--'a physician in a great city seems to be the mere plaything of fortune; his degree of reputation is for the most part totally casual; they that employ him know not his excellence; they that reject him know not his deficience. by any acute observer, who had looked on the transactions of the medical world for half a century, a very curious book might be written on the _fortune of physicians_.' _works_, viii. . [ ] mr. ryland was one of the members of the old club in ivy lane who met to dine in . mr. payne was another, (_post_, end of ). [ ] johnson revised her volumes: _post_, under nov. , . [ ] catherine sawbridge, sister of mrs. [? mr.] alderman sawbridge, was born in ; but it was not till that she was married to dr. macaulay, a physician; so that barber's account was incorrect either in date or name. croker. for alderman sawbridge see _post_, may , , note. [ ] see _post_, under nov. , . johnson bequeathed to her a book to keep as a token of remembrance (_post_, dec. , ). i find her name in the year in the list of subscribers to the edition of swift's _works_, in vols., so that perhaps she was more 'in the learned way' than barber thought. [ ] reynolds did not return to england from italy till the october of this year, seven months after mrs. johnson's death. taylor's _reynolds_, i. . he writes of his 'thirty years' intimacy with dr. johnson.' he must have known him therefore at least as early as . _ib_. ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'lord southwell,' said johnson, 'was the most _qualitied_ man i ever saw.' _post_, march , . [ ] the account given of levet in _gent. mag_. lv. , shews that he was a man out of the common run. he would not otherwise have attracted the notice of the french surgeons. the writer says:--'mr. levet, though an englishman by birth, became early in life a waiter at a coffee-house in paris. the surgeons who frequented it, finding him of an inquisitive turn and attentive to their conversation, made a purse for him, and gave him some instructions in their art. they afterwards furnished him with the means of further knowledge, by procuring him free admission to such lectures in pharmacy and anatomy as were read by the ablest professors of that period.' when he lived with johnson, 'much of the day was employed in attendance on his patients, who were chiefly of the lowest rank of tradesmen. the remainder of his hours he dedicated to hunter's lectures, and to as many different opportunities of improvement as he could meet with on the same gratuitous conditions.' 'all his medical knowledge,' said johnson, 'and it is not inconsiderable, was obtained through the ear. though he buys books, he seldom looks into them, or discovers any power by which he can be supposed to judge of an author's merit.' 'dr. johnson has frequently observed that levet was indebted to him for nothing more than house-room, his share in a penny-loaf at breakfast, and now and then a dinner on a sunday. his character was rendered valuable by repeated proof of honesty, tenderness, and gratitude to his benefactor, as well as by an unwearied diligence in his profession. his single failing was an occasional departure from sobriety. johnson would observe, "he was perhaps the only man who ever became intoxicated through motives of prudence. he reflected that, if he refused the gin or brandy offered him by some of his patients, he could have been no gainer by their cure, as they might have had nothing else to bestow on him. this habit of taking a fee, in whatever shape it was exhibited, could not be put off by advice. he would swallow what he did not like, nay what he knew would injure him, rather than go home with an idea that his skill had been exerted without recompense. though he took all that was offered him, he demanded nothing from the poor."' the writer adds that 'johnson never wished him to be regarded as an inferior, or treated him like a dependent.' mrs. piozzi says:--'when johnson raised contributions for some distressed author, or wit in want, he often made us all more than amends by diverting descriptions of the lives they were then passing in corners unseen by anybody but himself, and that odd old surgeon whom he kept in his house to tend the outpensioners, and of whom he said most truly and sublimely, that "in misery's darkest caverns known,"' etc. piozzi's _anec_., p. . 'levet, madam, is a brutal fellow, but i have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not in his mind.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . 'whoever called in on johnson at about midday found him and levet at breakfast, johnson, in deshabille, as just risen from bed, and levet filling out tea for himself and his patron alternately, no conversation passing between them. all that visited him at these hours were welcome. a night's rest and breakfast seldom failed to refresh and fit him for discourse, and whoever withdrew went too soon.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . how much he valued his poor friend he showed at his death, _post_, jan. , . [ ] 'o et praesidium et dulce decus meum.' 'my joy, my guard, and sweetest good.' creech. horace, _odes_, i. i. . [ ] it was in that johnson was living in castle street. at the time of reynolds's arrival in london in he had been living for some years in gough square. boswell, i suppose, only means to say that johnson's acquaintance with the cotterells was formed when he lived in their neighbourhood. northcote (_life of reynolds_, i. ) says that the cotterells lived 'opposite to reynolds's,' but his account seems based on a misunderstanding of boswell. [ ] _ante_, p. . [ ] 'we are both of dr. johnson's school,' wrote reynolds to some friend. 'for my own part, i acknowledge the highest obligations to him. he may be said to have formed my mind, and to have brushed from it a great deal of rubbish. those very persons whom he has brought to think rightly will occasionally criticise the opinions of their master when he nods. but we should always recollect that it is he himself who taught us and enabled us to do it.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . burke, writing to malone, said:--'you state very properly how much reynolds owed to the writings and conversation of johnson; and nothing shews more the greatness of sir joshua's parts than his taking advantage of both, and making some application of them to his profession, when johnson neither understood nor desired to understand anything of painting.' _ib_. p. . reynolds, there can be little question, is thinking of johnson in the following passage in his _seventh discourse_:--'what partial and desultory reading cannot afford may be supplied by the conversation of learned and ingenious men, which is the best of all substitutes for those who have not the means or opportunities of deep study. there are many such men in this age: and they will be pleased with communicating their ideas to artists, when they see them curious and docile, if they are treated with that respect and deference which is so justly their due. into such society young artists, if they make it the point of their ambition, will by degrees be admitted. there, without formal teaching, they will insensibly come to feel and reason like those they live with, and find a rational and systematic taste imperceptibly formed in their minds, which they will know how to reduce to a standard, by applying general truth to their own purposes, better perhaps than those to whom they owned [?owed] the original sentiment.' reynolds's _works_, edit. , i. . 'another thing remarkable to shew how little sir joshua crouched to the great is, that he never gave them their proper titles. i never heard the words "your lordship" or "your ladyship" come from his mouth; nor did he ever say "sir" in speaking to any one but dr. johnson; and when he did not hear distinctly what the latter said (which often happened) he would then say "sir?" that he might repeat it.' northcote's _conversations_, p. . gibbon called johnson 'reynolds's oracle.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . see also _post_, under dec. , . [ ] the thought may have been suggested to reynolds by johnson's writings. in _the rambler_, no. , he had said:--'there are minds so impatient of inferiority, that their gratitude is a species of revenge, and they return benefits, not because recompense is a pleasure, but because obligation is a pain.' in no. , he says:--'to be obliged is to be in some respect inferior to another.' [ ] northcote tells the following story on the authority of miss reynolds. it is to be noticed, however, that in her _recollections_ (croker's _boswell_, p. ) the story is told somewhat differently. johnson, reynolds and miss reynolds one day called on the miss cotterells. 'johnson was the last of the three that came in; when the maid, seeing this uncouth and dirty figure of a man, and not conceiving he could be one of the company, laid hold of his coat, just as he was going up-stairs, and pulled him back again, saying, "you fellow, what is your business here? i suppose you intended to rob the house." this most unlucky accident threw him into such a fit of shame and anger that he roared out like a bull, "what have i done? what have i done?"' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] johnson writing to langton on january , , describes him as 'towering in the confidence of twenty-one.' the conclusion of _the rambler_ was in march , when langton must have been only fourteen or just fifteen at most; johnson's first letter to him dated may , , shews that at that time their acquaintance had been but short. langton's subscription to the thirty-nine articles in the register of the university of oxford was on july , . johnson's first letter to him at oxford is dated june , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'my friend maltby and i,' said samuel rogers, 'when we were very young men, had a strong desire to see dr. johnson; and we determined to call upon him, and introduce ourselves. we accordingly proceeded to his house in bolt court; and i had my hand on the knocker when our courage failed us, and we retreated. many years afterwards i mentioned this circumstance to boswell, who said, "what a pity that you did not go boldly in! he would have received you with all kindness."' rogers's _table talk_, p. . for johnson's levee see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_. [ ] 'george langton,' writes mr. best in his _memorials_ (p. ), 'shewed me his pedigree with the names and arms of the families with which his own had intermarried. it was engrossed on a piece of parchment about ten inches broad, and twelve to fifteen feet long. "it leaves off at the reign of queen elizabeth," said he.' [ ] topham beauclerk was the only son of lord sidney beauclerk, fifth son of the first duke of st. alban's. he was therefore the great-grandson of charles ii. and nell gwynne. he was born in dec. . in my _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_ i have put together such facts as i could find about langton and beauclerk. [ ] mr. best describes langton as 'a very tall, meagre, long-visaged man, much resembling a stork standing on one leg near the shore in raphael's cartoon of the miraculous draught of fishes. his manners were, in the highest degree, polished; his conversation mild, equable and always pleasing.' best's _memorials_, p. . miss hawkins writes:--'if i were called on to name the person with whom johnson might have been seen to the fairest advantage, i should certainly name mr. langton.' miss hawkins's _memoirs_, i. . mrs. piozzi wrote in :--'i remember when to have langton at a man's house stamped him at once a literary character.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] in the summer of . see _post_, under april , , and . [ ] lord charlemont said that 'beauclerk possessed an exquisite taste, various accomplishments, and the most perfect good breeding. he was eccentric, often querulous, entertaining a contempt for the generality of the world, which the politeness of his manners could not always conceal; but to those whom he liked most generous and friendly. devoted at one time to pleasure, at another to literature, sometimes absorbed in play, sometimes in books, he was altogether one of the most accomplished, and when in good humour and surrounded by those who suited his fancy, one of the most agreeable men that could possibly exist.' lord charlemont's _life_, i. . hawkins writes (_life_, p. ) that 'over all his behaviour there beamed such a sunshine of cheerfulness and good-humour as communicated itself to all around him.' mrs. piozzi said of him:--'topham beauclerk (wicked and profligate as he wished to be accounted) was yet a man of very strict veracity. oh lord! how i did hate that horrid beauclerk.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) said that 'beauclerk was a strangely absent person.' he once went to dress for a dinner-party in his own house. 'he forgot all about his guests; thought that it was bed-time, and got into bed. his servant, coming to tell him that his guests were waiting for him, found him fast asleep.' [ ] it was to the round-house that captain booth was first taken in fielding's _amelia_, book i, chap. . [ ] 'blends, in exception to all general rules, your taste of follies with our scorn of fools.' pope, _moral essays_, ii. . [ ] in the college which _the club_ was to set up at st. andrew's, beauclerk was to have the chair of natural philosophy. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . goldsmith, writing to langton in , says: 'mr. beauclerk is now going directly forward to become a second boyle; deep in chymistry and physics.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . boswell described to temple, in , beauclerk's villa at muswell hill, with its 'observatory, laboratory for chymical experiments.' boswell's _letters_, p. . [ ] 'i'll purge, and leave sack, and live cleanly as a nobleman should do.' henry iv. act v. sc. . [ ] 'bishop. a cant word for a mixture of wine, oranges, and sugar.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] mr. langton has recollected, or dr. johnson repeated, the passage wrong. the lines are in lord lansdowne's drinking song to sleep, and run thus:-- 'short, very short be then thy reign, for i'm in haste to laugh and drink again.' boswell. lord lansdowne was the granville of pope's couplet-- 'but why then publish? granville the polite, and knowing walsh, would tell me i could write.' _prologue to the satires,_ . . [ ] boswell in _hebrides_ (aug. , ) says that johnson, on starting from edinburgh, left behind in an open drawer in boswell's house 'one volume of a pretty full and curious diary of his life, of which i have a few fragments.' he also states (_post_, under dec , ):--'i owned to him, that having accidentally seen them [two quarto volumes of his _life_] i had read a great deal in them.' it would seem that he had also transcribed a portion. [ ] this is inconsistent with what immediately follows, for no. on sleep was published on march . [ ] hawkesworth in the last number of _the adventurer_ says that he had help at first from a.; 'but this resource soon failing, i was obliged to carry on the publication alone, except some casual supplies, till i obtained from the gentlemen who have distinguished their papers by t and z, such assistance as i most wished.' in a note he says that the papers signed z are by the rev. mr. warton. the papers signed a are written in a light style. in southey's _cowper_, i. , it is said that bonnell thornton wrote them. [ ] boswell had read the passage carelessly. statius is mentioned, but the writer goes on to quote _cowley_, whose latin lines c. b. has translated. johnson's _works_, iv. . [ ] malone says that 'johnson was fond of him, but latterly owned that hawkesworth--who had set out a modest, humble man--was one of the many whom success in the world had spoiled. he was latterly, as sir joshua reynolds told me, an affected insincere man, and a great coscomb in his dress. he had no literature whatever.' prior's _malone_, p. . see _post_, april and may , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] 'johnson's statement to warton is definite and is borne out by internal evidence, if internal evidence can be needful when he had once made a definite statement. the papers signed _misargyrus_, the first of which appeared on march , are all below his style. they were not, i feel sure, written by him, and are improperly given in the oxford edition of his works. i do not find in them even any traces of his hand. the paper on sleep, no. , is i am almost sure, partly his, but i believe it is not wholly. in the frequency of quotations in the first part of it i see another, and probably a younger author. the passage on the 'low drudgery of digesting dictionaries' is almost certainly his. dr. bathurst, perhaps, wrote the essay, and johnson corrected it. whether it was johnson's or not, it was published after the letter to dr. warton was written. [ ] see _post_, april , , for an instance where johnson's silence did not imply assent. [ ] 'one evening at the club johnson proposed to us the celebrating the birth of mrs. lennox's first literary child, as he called her book, [_the life of harriet stuart_, a novel, published dec. ] by a whole night spent in festivity. our supper was elegant, and johnson had directed that a magnificent hot apple-pie should make a part of it, and this he would have stuck with bay-leaves, because, forsooth, mrs. lennox was an authoress, and had written verses; and further, he had prepared for her a crown of laurel, with which, but not till he had invoked the muses by some ceremonies of his own invention, he encircled her brows. about five johnson's face shone with meridian splendour, though his drink had been only lemonade.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . see _post_, , in mr. langton's 'collection,' and may , . [ ] in a document in the possession of one of cave's collateral descendants which i have seen dated may , , and headed, 'present state of the late mr. edward cave's effects,' i found entered '_magazine_, £ , . _daily advertiser_, £ .' the total value of the effects was £ , . [ ] johnson records of his friend that 'one of the last acts of reason which he exerted was fondly to press the hand that is now writing this little narrative.' _works_, vi. . [ ] see hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] lord chesterfield writing to his son in (_letters_, iii. ) said:--'people in high life are hardened to the wants and distresses of mankind, as surgeons are to their bodily pains; they see and hear of them all day long, and even of so many simulated ones, that they do not know which has are real, and which are not. other sentiments are therefore to be applied to than those of mere justice and humanity; their favour must be captivated by the _suaviter in modo_; their love of ease disturbed by unwearied importunity; or their fears wrought upon by a decent intimation of implacable, cool resentment: this is the true _fortiter in re_! he was himself to experience an instance of the true _fortiter in re_. [ ] if lord chesterfield had read the last number of _the rambler_ (published in march, ) he could scarcely have flattered himself with these expectations. johnson, after saying that he would not endeavour to overbear the censures of criticism by the influence of a patron, added:--'the supplications of an author never yet reprieved him a moment from oblivion; and, though greatness sometimes sheltered guilt, it can afford no protection to ignorance or dulness. having hitherto attempted only the propagation of truth, i will not at last violate it by the confession of terrors which i do not feel; having laboured to maintain the dignity of virtue, i will not now degrade it by the meanness of dedication.' [ ] on nov. and dec. , . _the world_, by adam fitz-adam, jan. to dec. . the editor was edward moore. among the contributors were the earls of chesterfield and corke, horace walpole, r. o. cambridge, and soame jenyns. see _post_, july , . [ ] with these papers as a whole johnson would have been highly offended. the anonymous writer hopes that his readers will not suspect him 'of being a hired and interested puff of this work.' 'i most solemnly protest,' he goes on to say, 'that neither mr. johnson, nor any booksellers have ever offered me the usual compliment of a pair of gloves or a bottle of wine.' it is a pretty piece of irony for a wealthy nobleman solemnly to protest that he has not been bribed by a poor author, whom seven years before he had repulsed from his door. but chesterfield did worse than this. by way of recommending a work of so much learning and so much labour he tells a foolish story of an assignation that had failed 'between a fine gentleman and a fine lady.' the letter that had passed between them had been badly spelt, and they had gone to different houses. 'such examples,' he wrote, 'really make one tremble; and will, i am convinced, determine my fair fellow-subjects and their adherents to adopt and scrupulously conform to mr. johnson's rules of true orthography.' johnson, in the last year of his life, at a time of great weakness and depression, defended the roughness of his manner. 'i have done more good as i am. obscenity and impiety have always been repressed in my company' (_post_, june , ). [ ] in the original 'mr. johnson.' [ ] in the original 'unnecessary foreign ornaments.' [ ] in the original, 'will now, and, i dare say.' [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that chesterfield, further to appease johnson, sent to him sir thomas robinson (see _post_, july , ), who was 'to apologise for his lordship's treatment of him, and to make him tenders of his future friendship and patronage. sir thomas, whose talent was flattery, was profuse in his commendations of johnson and his writings, and declared that, were his circumstances other than they were, himself would settle £ a year on him. 'and who are you,' asked johnson, 'that talk thus liberally?' 'i am,' said the other, 'sir thomas robinson, a yorkshire baronet.' 'sir,' replied johnson, 'if the first peer of the realm were to make me such an offer, i would shew him the way down stairs.' [ ] _paradise lost_, ii. . [ ] johnson, perhaps, was thinking of his interviews with chesterfield, when in his _rambler_ on 'the mischiefs of following a patron' (no. ) he wrote:--'if you, mr. rambler, have ever ventured your philosophy within the attraction of greatness, you know the force of such language, introduced with a smile of gracious tenderness, and impressed at the conclusion with an air of solemn sincerity.' [ ] johnson said to garrick:--'i have sailed a long and painful voyage round the world of the english language; and does he now send out two cock-boats to tow me into harbour?' murphy's _johnson_, p. . this metaphor may perhaps have been suggested to johnson by warburton. 'i now begin to see land, after having wandered, according to mr. warburton's phrase, in this vast sea of words.' _post_, feb. , . [ ] see _post_, nov. , , and april , . sir henry ellis says that 'address' in johnson's own copy of his letter to lord chesterfield is spelt twice with one _d_. croker's _corres_. ii. . in the series of letters by johnson given in _notes and queries_, th s. v, johnson writes _persuit_ (p. ); 'i cannot _butt_ (p. ); 'to retain _council_' (p. ); _harrassed_ (p. ); _imbecillity_ (p. ). in a letter to nichols quoted by me, _post_, beginning of , he writes _ilness_. he commonly, perhaps always, spelt _boswell boswel_, and nichols's name in one series of letters he spelt nichols, nichol, and nicol. _post_, beginning of , note. [ ] dr. johnson appeared to have had a remarkable delicacy with respect to the circulation of this letter; for dr. douglas, bishop of salisbury, informs me that, having many years ago pressed him to be allowed to read it to the second lord hardwicke, who was very desirous to hear it (promising at the same time, that no copy of it should be taken), johnson seemed much pleased that it had attracted the attention of a nobleman of such a respectable character; but after pausing some time, declined to comply with the request, saying, with a smile, 'no, sir; i have hurt the dog too much already;' or words to that purpose. boswell. [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] in , the year before the _life of johnson_ came out, boswell published this letter in a separate sheet of four quarto pages under the following title:--_the celebrated letter from samuel johnson, ll.d., to philip dormer stanhope, earl of chesterfield; now first published with notes, by james boswell, esq., london. printed by henry baldwin: for charles dilly in the poultry, mdccxc. price half-a-guinea. entered in the hall-book of the company of stationers_. it belongs to the same impression as _the life of johnson_. [ ] 'je chante le vainqueur des vainqueurs de la terre.' boileau, _l'art poétique_, iii. . [ ] the following note is subjoined by mr. langton:--'dr. johnson, when he gave me this copy of his letter, desired that i would annex to it his information to me, that whereas it is said in the letter that "no assistance has been received," he did once receive from lord chesterfield the sum of ten pounds; but as that was so inconsiderable a sum, he thought the mention of it could not properly find place in a letter of the kind that this was.' boswell. 'this surely is an unsatisfactory excuse,' writes mr. croker. he read johnson's letter carelessly, as the rest of his note shews. johnson says, that during the seven years that had passed since he was repulsed from chesterfield's door he had pushed on his work without one act of assistance. these ten pounds, we may feel sure, had been received before the seven years began to run. no doubt they had been given in as an acknowledgement of the compliment paid to chesterfield in the _plan_. he had at first been misled by chesterfield's one act of kindness, but he had long had his eyes opened. like the shepherd in virgil (_eclogues_, viii. ) he could say:--'_nunc_ scio quid sit amor.' [ ] in this passage dr. johnson evidently alludes to the loss of his wife. we find the same tender recollection recurring to his mind upon innumerable occasions: and, perhaps no man ever more forcibly felt the truth of the sentiment so elegantly expressed by my friend mr. malone, in his prologue to mr. jephson's tragedy of julia [_julia or the italian lover_ was acted for the first time on april , . _gent. mag_. , p. ]:-- 'vain--wealth, and fame, and fortune's fostering care, if no fond breast the splendid blessings share; and, each day's bustling pageantry once past, there, only there, our bliss is found at last.' boswell. three years earlier, when his wife was dying, he had written in one of the last _ramblers_ (no ):--'it is necessary to the completion of every good, that it be timely obtained; for whatever comes at the close of life will come too late to give much delight ... what we acquire by bravery or science, by mental or corporal diligence, comes at last when we cannot communicate, and therefore cannot enjoy it.' chesterfield himself was in no happy state. less than a month before he received johnson's letter he wrote (_works_, iii. ):--'for these six months past, it seems as if all the complaints that ever attacked heads had joined to overpower mine. continual noises, headache, giddiness, and impenetrable deafness; i could not stoop to write; and even reading, the only resource of the deaf, was painful to me.' he wrote to his son a year earlier (_letters_, iv. ), 'reading, which was always a pleasure to me in the time even of my greatest dissipation, is now become my only refuge; and i fear i indulge it too much at the expense of my eyes. but what can i do? i must do something. i cannot bear absolute idleness; my ears grow every day more useless to me, my eyes consequently more necessary. i will not hoard them like a miser, but will rather risk the loss than not enjoy the use of them.' [ ] '_the english dictionary_ was written with little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow.' johnson's _works_ v. . [ ] upon comparing this copy with that which dr. johnson dictated to me from recollection, the variations are found to be so slight, that this must be added to the many other proofs which he gave of the wonderful extent and accuracy of his memory. to gratify the curious in composition, i have deposited both the copies in the british museum. boswell. [ ] soon after edwards's _canons of criticism_ came out, johnson was dining at tonson the bookseller's with hayman the painter and some more company. hayman related to sir joshua reynolds, that the conversation having turned upon edwards's book, the gentlemen praised it much, and johnson allowed its merit. but when they went farther, and appeared to put that author upon a level with warburton, 'nay, (said johnson,) he has given him some smart hits to be sure; but there is no proportion between the two men; they must not be named together. a fly, sir, may sting a stately horse and make him wince; but one is but an insect, and the other is a horse still.' boswell. johnson in his _preface to shakespeare_ (_works_, v. ) wrote:--'dr. warburton's chief assailants are the authors of _the canons of criticism_, and of _the revisal of shakespeare's text_.... the one stings like a fly, sucks a little blood, takes a gay flutter and returns for more; the other bites like a viper.... when i think on one with his confederates, i remember the danger of coriolanus, who was afraid that "girls with spits, and boys with stones, should slay him in puny battle;" when the other crosses my imagination, i remember the prodigy in _macbeth_: "a falcon tow'ring in his pride of place, was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and kill'd." let me, however, do them justice. one is a wit and one a scholar.' [ ] to johnson might be applied what he himself said of dryden:--'he appears to have known in its whole extent the dignity of his character, and to have set a very high value on his own powers and performances.' _works_, vii. . [ ] in the original _yet mark_. [ ] in the original _toil_. [ ] in his _dictionary_ he defined _patron_ as 'commonly a wretch who supports with insolence and is paid with flattery.' this definition disappears in the _abridgement_, but remains in the fourth edition. [ ] chesterfield, when he read johnson's letter to dodsley, was acting up to the advice that he had given his own son six years earlier (_letters_, ii. ):--'when things of this kind [bons mots] happen to be said of you, the most prudent way is to seem not to suppose that they are meant at you, but to dissemble and conceal whatever degree of anger you may feel inwardly: and, should they be so plain, that you cannot be supposed ignorant of their meaning, so join in the laugh of the company against yourself; acknowledge the hit to be a fair one, and the jest a good one, and play off the whole thing in seeming good humour; but by no means reply in the same way; which only shows that you are hurt, and publishes the victory which you might have concealed.' [ ] see _post_, march , , where johnson said that 'lord chesterfield was dignified, but he was insolent;' and june , , where he said that 'his manner was exquisitely elegant.' [ ] 'whate'er of mongrel no one class admits, a wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.' pope's _dunciad_, iv. . 'a true choice spirit we admit; with wits a fool, with fools a wit.' churchill's _duellist_' book iii. 'the solemn fop, significant and budge; a fool with judges, amongst fools a judge.' cowper's _poems_, _conversation_, . . according to rebecca warner (_original letters_, p. ), johnson telling joseph fowke about his refusal to dedicate his _dictionary_ to chesterfield, said: 'sir, i found i must have gilded a rotten post.' [ ] that collection of letters cannot be vindicated from the serious charge of encouraging, in some passages, one of the vices most destructive to the good order and comfort of society, which his lordship represents as mere fashionable gallantry; and, in others, of inculcating the base practice of dissimulation, and recommending, with disproportionate anxiety, a perpetual attention to external elegance of manners. but it must, at the same time, be allowed, that they contain many good precepts of conduct, and much genuine information upon life and manners, very happily expressed; and that there was considerable merit in paying so much attention to the improvement of one who was dependent upon his lordship's protection; it has, probably, been exceeded in no instance by the most exemplary parent; and though i can by no means approve of confounding the distinction between lawful and illicit offspring, which is, in effect, insulting the civil establishment of our country, to look no higher; i cannot help thinking it laudable to be kindly attentive to those, of whose existence we have, in any way, been the cause. mr. stanhope's character has been unjustly represented as diametrically opposite to what lord chesterfield wished him to be. he has been called dull, gross, and awkward; but i knew him at dresden, when he was envoy to that court; and though he could not boast of the _graces_, he was, in truth, a sensible, civil, well-behaved man. boswell. see _post_, march , , under april, , , and june , . [ ] chesterfield's _letters_, iii. . [ ] now one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state. boswell. afterwards viscount melville. [ ] probably george, second earl of macclesfield, who was, in , elected president of the royal society. croker. horace walpole (_letters_, ii. ) mentions him as 'engaged to a party for finding out the longitude.' [ ] in another work (_dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. ), i have shewn that lord chesterfield's 'respectable hottentot' was not johnson. from the beginning of to the end of chesterfield had no dealings of any kind with johnson. at no time had there been the slightest intimacy between the great nobleman and the poor author. chesterfield had never seen johnson eat. the letter in which the character is drawn opens with the epigram: non amo te, sabidi, nee possum dicere quare, hoc tantum possum dicere, non amo te. chesterfield goes on to show 'how it is possible not to love anybody, and yet not to know the reason why.... how often,' he says, 'have i, in the course of my life, found myself in this situation with regard to many of my acquaintance whom i have honoured and respected, without being able to love.' he then instances the case of the man whom he describes as a respectable hottentot. it is clear that he is writing of a man whom he knows well and who has some claim upon his affection. twice he says that it is impossible to love him. the date of this letter is feb. , , more than three years after johnson had for the last time waited in chesterfield's outward rooms. moreover the same man is described in three other letters (sept. , ; nov. ; and may , ), and described as one with whom chesterfield lived on terms of intimacy. in the two former of these letters he is called mr. l. lyttelton did not become sir george lyttelton till sept. , . he was raised to the peerage in . horace walpole (_reign of george iii_, i. ) says of him:--'his ignorance of mankind, want of judgment, with strange absence and awkwardness, involved him in mistakes and ridicule.' had chesterfield's letter been published when it was written, no one in all likelihood would have so much as dreamt that johnson was aimed at. but it did not come before the world till twenty-three years later, when johnson's quarrel with chesterfield was known to every one, when johnson himself was at the very head of the literary world, and when his peculiarities had become a matter of general interest. [ ] about four years after this time gibbon, on his return to england, became intimate with mr. and mrs. mallet. he thus wrote of them:--'the most useful friends of my father were the mallets; they received me with civility and kindness at first on his account, and afterwards on my own; and (if i may use lord chesterfield's words) i was soon _domesticated_ in their house. mr. mallet, a name among the english poets, is praised by an unforgiving enemy for the ease and elegance of his conversation, and his wife was not destitute of wit or learning.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i . the 'unforgiving enemy' was johnson, who wrote (_works_, viii. ):--'his conversation was elegant and easy. the rest of his character may, without injury to his memory, sink into silence.' johnson once said:--'i have seldom met with a man whose colloquial ability exceeded that of mallet.' johnson's _works_, , xi. . see _post_, march , , and april , ; and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] johnson had never read bolingbroke's _philosophy_. 'i have never read bolingbroke's impiety,' he said (_post_, under march , ). in the memorable sentence that he, notwithstanding, pronounced upon the author, he exposed himself to the retort which he had recorded in his _life of boerhaave_ (_works_, vi. ). 'as boerhaave was sitting in a common boat, there arose a conversation among the passengers upon the impious and pernicious doctrine of spinosa, which, as they all agreed, tends to the utter overthrow of all religion. boerhaave sat and attended silently to this discourse for some time, till one of the company ... instead of confuting the positions of spinosa by argument began to give a loose to contumelious language and virulent invectives, which boerhaave was so little pleased with, that at last he could not forbear asking him, whether he had ever read the author he declaimed against.' [ ] lord shelburne said that 'bolingbroke was both a political and personal coward.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] it was in the summer of this year that murphy became acquainted with johnson. (see _post,_ .) 'the first striking sentence that he heard from him was in a few days after the publication of lord bolingbroke's posthumous works. mr. garrick asked him, "if he had seen them." "yes, i have seen them." "what do you think of them?" "think of them!" he made a long pause, and then replied: "think of them! a scoundrel and a coward! a scoundrel who spent his life in charging a gun against christianity; and a coward, who was afraid of hearing the report of his own gun; but left half-a-crown to a hungry scotchman to draw the trigger after his death!" his mind, at this time strained and over laboured by constant exertion, called for an interval of repose and indolence. but indolence was the time of danger; it was then that his spirits, not employed abroad, turned with inward hostility against himself.' murphy's _johnson_, p. , and piozzi's _anec_., p. . adam smith, perhaps, had this saying of johnson's in mind, when in he refused the request of the dying hume to edit after his death his _dialogues on natural religion_. hume wrote back:--'i think your scruples groundless. was mallet anywise hurt by his publication of lord bolingbroke? he received an office afterwards from the present king and lord bute, the most prudish man in the world.' smith did not yield. j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] according to horace walpole (_letters_, ii. ), pelham died of a surfeit. as johnson says (_works_, viii. ):--'the death of great men is not always proportioned to the lustre of their lives. the death of pope was imputed by some of his friends to a silver saucepan, in which it was his delight to heat potted lampreys.' fielding in _the voyage to lisbon_ (_works_, x. ) records:--'i was at the worst on that memorable day when the public lost mr. pelham. from that day i began slowly, as it were, to draw my feet out of the grave.' '"i shall now have no more peace," the king said with a sigh; being told of his minister's death.' walpole's _george ii_, i. . [ ] 'thomas warton, the younger brother of dr. warton, was a fellow of trinity college, oxford. he was poetry professor from to . mant's _warton_, i. xliv. in he was made poet laureate. _ib_. lxxxiii. mr. mant, telling of an estrangement between johnson and the wartons, says that he had heard 'on unquestionable authority that johnson had lamented, with tears in his eyes, that the wartons had not called on him for the last four years; and that he has been known to declare that tom warton was the only man of genius whom he knew without a heart.' _ib_. xxxix. [ ] 'observations on spenser's fairy queen, the first edition of which was now just published.' warton. [ ] 'hughes published an edition of spenser.' warton. see johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'his dictionary.' warton. [ ] 'he came to oxford within a fortnight, and stayed about five weeks. he lodged at a house called kettel hall, near trinity college. but during this visit at oxford, he collected nothing in the libraries for his dictionary.' warton. [ ] pitt this year described, in the house of commons, a visit that he had paid to oxford the summer before. he and his friends 'were at the window of the angel inn; a lady was desired to sing _god save great george our king_. the chorus was re-echoed by a set of young lads drinking at a college over the way [queen's], but with additions of rank treason.' walpole's _george ii_, i. . [ ] a fellow of pembroke college, of johnson's time, described the college servants as in 'the state of servitude the most miserable that can be conceived amongst so many masters.' he says that 'the kicks and cuffs and bruises they submit to entitle them, when those who were displeased relent,' to the compensation that is afforded by draughts of ale. 'there is not a college servant, but if he have learnt to suffer, and to be officious, and be inclined to tipple, may forget his cares in a gallon or two of ale every day of his life.' _dr. johnson:--his friends, &c_., p. . [ ] it was against the butler that johnson, in his college days, had written an epigram:-- 'quid mirum maro quod digne canit arma virumque, quid quod putidulum nostra camoena sonat? limosum nobis promus dat callidus haustum; virgilio vires uva falerna dedit. carmina vis nostri scribant meliora poetae? ingenium jubeas purior haustus alat.' [ ] pope, _eloisa to abelard_, . . [ ] johnson or warton misquoted the line. it stands:--'mittit aromaticas vallis saronica nubes.' husbands's _miscellany_, p. . [ ] de quincey (_works_, xiii. ), after saying that johnson did not understand latin 'with the elaborate and circumstantial accuracy required for the editing critically of a latin classic,' continues:--'but if he had less than that, he also had more: he _possessed_ that language in a way that no extent of mere critical knowledge could confer. he wrote it genially, not as one translating into it painfully from english, but as one using it for his original organ of thinking. and in latin verse he expressed himself at times with the energy and freedom of a roman.' [ ] mr. jorden. see _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell (_hebrides_, aug. , ) says that johnson looked at the ruins at st. andrew's 'with a strong indignation. i happened to ask where john knox was buried. dr. johnson burst out, "i hope in the highway, i have been looking at his reformations."' [ ] in reasmus philipps's _diary_ it is recorded that in pembroke college early in every november 'was kept a great gaudy [feast], when the master dined in public, and the juniors (by an ancient custom they were obliged to observe) went round the fire in the hall.' _notes & queries_, nd s. x. . [ ] communicated by the reverend mr. thomas warton, who had the original. boswell. in the imaginary college which was to be opened by _the club_ at st. andrew's, chambers was to be the professor of the law of england. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , ; also _post_, july , and march , . [ ] i presume she was a relation of mr. zachariah williams, who died in his eighty-third year, july , . when dr. johnson was with me at oxford, in , he gave to the bodleian library a thin quarto of twenty-one pages, a work in italian, with an english translation on the opposite page. the english titlepage is this: 'an account of an attempt to ascertain the longitude at sea, by an exact variation of the magnetical needle, &c. by zachariah williams. london, printed for dodsley, .' the english translation, from the strongest internal marks, is unquestionably the work of johnson. in a blank leaf, johnson has written the age, and time of death, of the authour z. williams, as i have said above. on another blank leaf, is pasted a paragraph from a newspaper, of the death and character of williams, which is plainly written by johnson. he was very anxious about placing this book in the bodleian: and, for fear of any omission or mistake, he entered, in the great catalogue, the title-page of it with his own hand.' warton.--boswell. in this statement there is a slight mistake. the english account, which was written by johnson, was the _original_ the italian was a _translation_, done by baretti. see _post_, end of . malone. johnson has twice entered in his own hand that 'zachariah williams, died july , , in his eighty-third year,' and also on the title-page that he was . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the compliment was, as it were, a mutual one. mr. wise urged thomas warton to get the degree conferred before the _dictionary_ was published. 'it is in truth,' he wrote, 'doing ourselves more honour than him, to have such a work done by an oxford hand, and so able a one too, and will show that we have not lost all regard for good letters, as has been too often imputed to us by our enemies.' wooll's _warton_, p. . [ ] 'in procuring him the degree of master of arts by diploma at oxford.' warton.--boswell. [ ] 'lately fellow of trinity college, and at this time radclivian librarian, at oxford. he was a man of very considerable learning, and eminently skilled in roman and anglo-saxon antiquities. he died in .' warton.--boswell. [ ] no doubt _the rambler_. [ ] 'collins (the poet) was at this time at oxford, on a visit to mr. warton; but labouring under the most deplorable languor of body, and dejection of mind.' warton. boswell. johnson, writing to dr. warton on march , , thus speaks of collins:-'i knew him a few years ago full of hopes, and full of projects, versed in many languages, high in fancy, and strong in retention. this busy and forcible mind is now under the government of those who lately would not have been able to comprehend the least and most narrow of its designs.' wooll's _warton_ . . again, on dec. , :--'poor dear collins! let me know whether you think it would give him pleasure if i should write to him. i have often been near his state, and therefore have it in great commiseration.' _ib_. p. . again, on april , :--'that man is no common loss. the moralists all talk of the uncertainty of fortune, and the transitoriness of beauty: but it is yet more dreadful to consider that the powers of the mind are equally liable to change, that understanding may make its appearance and depart, that it may blaze and expire.' _ib_. p. . see _post_, beginning of . [ ] 'of publishing a volume of observations on the best of spenser's works. it was hindered by my taking pupils in this college.' warton.--boswell. [ ] 'young students of the lowest rank at oxford are so called.' warton.--boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'his dictionary.' warton.--boswell. [ ] johnson says (_works_, viii. ) that when collins began to feel the approaches of his dreadful malady 'with the usual weakness of men so diseased he eagerly snatched that temporary relief with which the table and the bottle flatter and seduce.' [ ] 'petrarch, finding nothing in the word _eclogue_ of rural meaning, supposed it to be corrupted by the copiers, and therefore called his own pastorals aeglogues, by which he meant to express the talk of goatherds, though it will mean only the talk of goats. this new name was adopted by subsequent writers.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] 'of the degree at oxford.' warton.--boswell. [ ] this verse is from the long-lost _bellerophon_, a tragedy by euripides. it is preserved by suidas. charles burney. 'alas! but wherefore alas? man is born to sorrow.' [ ] 'sento venir per allegrezza un tuono que frêmer l'aria, e rimbombar fa l'onrle:-- odo di squille,' &c. _orlando furioso_. c. xlvi. s. . [ ] 'his degree had now past, according to the usual form, the surrages of the heads of colleges; but was not yet finally granted by the university. it was carried without a single dissentient voice.' warton. boswell. [ ] 'on spenser.' warton.--boswell. [ ] lord eldon wrote of him:--'poor tom warton! he was a tutor at trinity; at the beginning of every term he used to send to his pupils to know whether they would _wish_ to attend lecture that term.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . [ ] the fields north of oxford. [ ] 'of the degree.' warton.--boswell. [ ] 'principal of st. mary hall at oxford. he brought with him the diploma from oxford.' warton.--boswell. dr. king (_anec_. p. ) says that he was one of the jacobites who were presented to the pretender when, in september , he paid a stealthy visit to england. the pretender in told sir horace mann that he was in london in that very month and year and had met fifty of his friends, among whom was the earl of westmoreland, the future chancellor of the university of oxford. mahon's _england_, iv. ii. hume places the visit in . burton's _hume_, ii. . see also in boswell's _hebrides_, the account of the young pretender. in , writes lord shelburne, 'dr. king in his speech upon opening the radcliffe library at oxford, before a full theatre introduced three times the word _redeat_, pausing each time for a considerable space, during which the most unbounded applause shook the theatre, which was filled with a vast body of peers, members of parliament, and men of property. soon after the rebellion [of ], speaking of the duke of cumberland, he described him as a man, _qui timet omnia prater deum_. i presented this same dr. king to george iii. in .' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] 'i suppose johnson means that my _kind intention_ of being the _first_ to give him the good news of the degree being granted was _frustrated_, because dr. king brought it before my intelligence arrived.' warton.--boswell. [ ] dr. huddesford, president of trinity college.' warton.--boswell. [ ] extracted from the convocation-register, oxford. boswell. [ ] the earl of arran, 'the last male of the illustrious house of ormond,' was the third chancellor in succession that that family had given to the university. the first of the three, the famous duke of ormond, had, on his death in , been succeeded by his grandson, the young duke. (macaulay's _england_, iii. ). he, on his impeachment and flight from england in , was succeeded by his brother, the earl of arran. richardson, writing in (_carres_. ii. ), said of the university, 'forty years ago it chose a chancellor in despite of the present reigning family, whose whole merit was that he was the brother of a perjured, yet weak, rebel.' on arran's death in , the earl of westmoreland, 'old dull westmoreland' as walpole calls him (_letters_, i. ), was elected. it was at his installation that johnson clapped his hands till they were sore at dr. king's speech (_post_, ). 'i hear,' wrote walpole of what he calls _the coronation at oxford_, 'my lord westmoreland's own retinue was all be-james'd with true-blue ribands.' _letters_, iii. . it is remarkable that this nobleman, who in early life was a whig, had commanded 'the body of troops which george i. had been obliged to send to oxford, to teach the university the only kind of passive obedience which they did not approve.' walpole's _george ii_, iii. . [ ] the original is in my possession, boswell. [ ] we may conceive what a high gratification it must have been to johnson to receive his diploma from the hands of the great dr. king, whose principles were so congenial with his own. boswell. [ ] johnson here alludes, i believe, to the charge of disloyalty brought against the university at the time of the famous contested election for oxfordshire in . a copy of treasonable verses was found, it was said, near the market-place in oxford, and the grand jury made a presentment thereon. 'we must add,' they concluded, 'that it is the highest aggravation of this crime to have a libel of a nature so false and scandalous, published in a famous university, &c. _gent. mag_. xxiv. . a reward of £ was offered in the _london gazette_ for the detection of the writer or publisher,' _ib_. p. . [ ] a single letter was a single piece of paper; a second piece of paper, however small, or any inclosure constituted a double letter; it was not the habit to prepay the postage. the charge for a single letter to oxford at this time was three-pence, which was gradually increased till in it was eight-pence. _penny cyclo_. xviii. . [ ] 'the words in italicks are allusions to passages in mr. warton's poem, called _the progress of discontent_, now lately published.' warton.--boswell. 'and now intent on new designs, sighs for a fellowship--and fines. * * * * * these fellowships are pretty things, we live indeed like petty kings. * * * * * and ev'ry night i went to bed, without a modus in my head.' warton's _poems_, ii. . for _modus_ and _fines_ see _post_, april , . [ ] lucretius, i. [ ] 'hence ye prophane; i hate ye all, both the great vulgar and the small.' cowley's _imit. of horace_, odes, iii. . [ ] _journal britannique_. it was to maty that gibbon submitted the manuscript of his first work. gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] maty, as prof. de morgan pointed out, had in the autumn of been guilty of 'wilful suppression of the circumstances of johnson's attack on lord chesterfield.' in an article in his _journal_ he regrets the absence from the _dictionary_ of the _plan_. 'elle eût épargné à l'auteur la composition d'une nouvelle préface, qui ne contient qu'en partie les mêmes choses, et qu'on est tenté de regarder comme destinée à faire perdre de vue quelques-unes des obligations que m. johnson avait contractées, et le mécène qu'il avait choisi.' _notes and queries_, nd s. iv. . [ ] he left london in and returned to it in . _memoirs of dr. barney_, i. , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] sir john hawkins, p. , inserts two notes as having passed formally between andrew millar and johnson, to the above effect. i am assured this was not the case. in the way of incidental remark it was a pleasant play of raillery. to have deliberately written notes in such terms would have been morose. boswell. [ ] 'talking one day of the patronage the great sometimes affect to give to literature and literary men, "andrew millar," says johnson, "is the maecenas of the age."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . horace walpole, writing on may , (_letters_ ii. ), says:--'millar the bookseller has done very generously by fielding; finding _tom jones_, for which he had given him six hundred pounds, sell so greatly, he has since given him another hundred.' hume writing on july , , says:--'poor andrew millar is declared bankrupt; his debts amount to above £ , , and it is said his creditors will not get above three shillings in the pound. all the world allows him to have been diligent and industrious; but his misfortunes are ascribed to the extravagance of his wife, a very ordinary case in this city.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . he must soon have recovered his position, for dr. a. carlyle (auto. p. ) met millar at harrogate in . in the inn were several baronets, and great squires, members of parliament, who paid millar civility for the use of his two newspapers which came to him by every post. 'yet when he appeared in the morning, in his well-worn suit of clothes, they could not help calling him peter pamphlet; for the generous patron of scotch authors, with his city wife and her niece, were sufficiently ridiculous when they came into good company.' mr. croker (_boswell_, p. ) says that millar was the bookseller described by johnson, _post_, april , . as 'habitually and equably drunk.' he is, i think, mistaken. [ ] his _dictionary_. boswell. [ ] 'a translation of apollonius rhodius was now intended by mr. warton.' warton.--boswell. [ ] kettel hall is an ancient tenement built about the year by dr. ralph kettel, president of trinity college, for the accommodation of commoners of that society. it adjoins the college; and was a few years ago converted into a private house. malone. [ ] 'at ellsfield, a village three miles from oxford.' warton.--boswell. [ ] it was published on april , , in two vols. folio, price £ _s_. bound. johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] 'booksellers concerned in his _dictionary_.' warton.--boswell. 'june , mr. paul knapton, bookseller. june , thos. longman, esq., bookseller.' _gent. mag_., xxv. . the 'esq.' perhaps is a sign that even so early as the longmans ranked higher than most of their brethren. [ ] . _own_ not in the original. johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] 'i have not always executed my own scheme, or satisfied my own expectations.' johnson's _works_, p. . [ ] in the _plan of an english dictionary_ (_ib_. p. ) johnson, writing of 'the word _perfection_' says:--'though in its philosophical and exact sense it can be of little use among human beings, it is often so much degraded from its original signification, that the academicians have inserted in their work, _the perfection of a language_, and, with a little more licentiousness, might have prevailed on themselves to have added _the perfection of a dictionary_.' in the preface to the fourth edition he writes:--'he that undertakes to compile a dictionary undertakes that, which if it comprehends the full extent of his design, he knows himself unable to perform.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _ib_. p. . [ ] see _post_, under may , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] he defines both _towards the wind_. the definitions remain unchanged in the fourth edition, the last corrected by johnson, and also in the third edition of the abridgment, though this abridgment was made by him. _pastern_ also remains unaltered in this latter edition. in the fourth edition he corrected it. 'the drawback of his character,' wrote sir joshua reynolds, 'is entertaining prejudices on very slight foundations; giving an opinion, perhaps, first at random, but from its being contradicted he thinks himself obliged always to support it, or, if he cannot support, still not to acquiesce. of this i remember an instance of a defect or forgetfulness in his _dictionary_. i asked him how he came not to correct it in the second edition. "no," says he, "they made so much of it that i would not flatter them by altering it."' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] in his preface (_works_, v. ) he anticipated errors and laughter. 'a few wild blunders and risible absurdities, from which no work of such multiplicity was ever free, may for a time furnish folly with laughter and harden ignorance into contempt' in a letter written nearly thirty years later he said:--'dictionaries are like watches, the worst is better than none, and the best cannot be expected to go quite true.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, under july , . [ ] 'network. anything reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections.' reticulated is defined 'made of network; formed with interstitial vacuities.' [ ] 'that part of my work on which i expect malignity most frequently to fasten is the _explanation_.... such is the fate of hapless lexicography, that not only darkness, but light, impedes and distresses it; things may be not only too little, but too much known, to be happily illustrated.' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] in the original, 'to admit _a_ definition.' _ib_. [ ] in the original, '_drier.' ib_. . [ ] 'tory. (a cant term derived, i suppose, from an irish word signifying a savage.) one who adheres to the ancient constitution of the state, and the apostolical hierarchy of the church of england: opposed to a _whig_.' [ ] 'whig. the name of a faction.' lord marchmont (_post_, may , ) said that 'johnson was the first that brought whig and tory into a dictionary.' in this he was mistaken. in the fourth edition of dr. adam littleton's _linguae latinae liber dictionarius_, published in , _whig_ is translated _homo fanaticus, factiosus; whiggism, enthusiasmus, perduellio; tory, bog-trotter or irish robber, praedo hibernicus; tory_ opposed to whig, _regiarum partium assertor_. these definitions are not in the first edition, published in . _a pensioner_ or _bride_ [bribed] _person_ is rendered _mercenarius. [ ] 'pension. an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. in england it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country.' _pensioner_ is defined as 'one who is supported by an allowance paid at the will of another; a dependant.' these definitions remain in the fourth edition, corrected by johnson in . [ ] 'oats. a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people.' see _post_, march , , and march , . 'did you ever hear,' wrote sir walter scott, 'of lord elibank's reply when johnson's famous definition of oats was pointed out first to him. "very true, and where will you find such _men_ and such _horses_?"' croker's _carres_, ii. . [ ] he thus defines excise: 'a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid.' the commissioners of excise being offended by this severe reflection, consulted mr. murray, then attorney general, to know whether redress could be legally obtained. i wished to have procured for my readers a copy of the opinion which he gave, and which may now be justly considered as history; but the mysterious secrecy of office, it seems, would not permit it. i am, however, informed, by very good authority, that its import was, that the passage might be considered as actionable; but that it would be more prudent in the board not to prosecute. johnson never made the smallest alteration in this passage. we find he still retained his early prejudice against excise; for in _the idler_, no. , there is the following very extraordinary paragraph: 'the authenticity of _clarendon's_ history, though printed with the sanction of one of the first universities of the world, had not an unexpected manuscript been happily discovered, would, with the help of factious credulity, have been brought into question by the two lowest of all human beings, a scribbler for a party, and a commissioner of excise.'--the persons to whom he alludes were mr. john oldmixon, and george ducket, esq. boswell. mr. croker obtained a copy of the case. '_case for the opinion of mr. attorney-general_. 'mr. samuel johnson has lately published "a dictionary of the english language," in which are the following words:-- '"excise, _n.s_. a hateful tax levied upon commodities and adjudged not by the common judges of property, but by wretches hired by those to whom excise is paid." '_the author's definition being observed by the commissioners of excise, they desire the favour of your opinion_. "qu. whether it will not be considered as a libel, and if so, whether it is not proper to proceed against the author, printers, and publishers thereof, or any and which of them, by information, or how otherwise?" 'i am of opinion that it is a libel. but under all the circumstances, i should think it better to give him an opportunity of altering his definition; and, in case he do not, to threaten him with an information. ' th nov. . w. murray.' in one of the parl. debates of johnson makes pitt say that 'it is probable that we shall detect bribery descending through a long subordination of wretches combined against the public happiness, from the prime minister surrounded by peers and officers of state to the exciseman dictating politics amidst a company of mechanics whom he debauches at the public expense, and lists in the service of his master with the taxes which he gathers.' _parl. hist_., xii. _ _. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] he defined _favourite_ as 'one chosen as a companion by a superiour; a mean wretch, whose whole business is by any means to please:' and _revolution_ as 'change in the state of a government or country. it is used among us _kat hexochaen_ for the change produced by the admission of king william and queen mary.' for these definitions wilkes attacked him in _the north briton_, no. xii. in the fourth edition johnson gives a second definition of _patriot_:--'it is sometimes used for a factious disturber of the government.' premier and _prime minister_ are not defined. _post_, april , . see also _ante_, p. note, for the definition of _patron_; and _post_, april , for that of _alias_. [ ] 'there have been great contests in the privy council about the trial of the vice-chancellor of oxford [on a charge of jacobitism]: lord gower pressed it extremely. he asked the attorney-general his opinion, who told him the evidence did not appear strong enough. lord gower said:--"mr. attorney, you seem to be very lukewarm for your party." he replied:--"my lord, i never was lukewarm for my party, _nor ever was but of one party_!"' walpole's _letters_, ii. . mr. croker assumes that johnson here 'attempted a pun, and wrote the name (as pronounced) go'er. johnson was very little likely to pun, for 'he had a great contempt for that species of wit.' _post_, april , . [ ] boswell omits the salutation which follows this definition: chair ithakae met haethla, met halgea pikra haspasios teon oudas ikanomai. 'dr. johnson,' says miss burney, 'inquired if i had ever yet visited _grub-street_, but was obliged to restrain his anger when i answered "no;" because he had never paid his respects to it himself. "however," says he, "you and i, burney, will go together; we have a very good right to go, so we'll visit the mansions of our progenitors, and take up our own freedom together."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] lord bolingbroke had said (_works_, in. ): 'i approve the devotion of a studious man at christ church, who was overheard in his oratory entering into a detail with god, and acknowledging the divine goodness in furnishing the world with makers of dictionaries. these men court fame, as well as their betters, by such means as god has given them to acquire it. they deserve encouragement while they continue to compile, and neither affect wit, nor presume to reason.' johnson himself in _the adventurer_, no. , had in described a class of men who 'employed their minds in such operations as required neither celerity nor strength, in the low drudgery of collating copies, comparing authorities, digesting dictionaries,' &c. lord monboddo, in his _origin of language_, v. , says that 'j. c. scaliger called the makers of dictionaries _les portefaix de la république des lettres_.' [ ] great though his depression was, yet he could say with truth in his preface:--'despondency has never so far prevailed as to depress me to negligence.' _works_, v. . [ ] _ib_. p. . 'in the preface the author described the difficulties with which he had been left to struggle so forcibly and pathetically that the ablest and most malevolent of all the enemies of his fame, horne tooke, never could read that passage without tears.' macaulay's _misc. writings_, p. . it is in _a letter to john dunning, esq_. (p. ) that horne tooke, or rather horne, wrote:--'i could never read his preface without shedding a tear.' see _post_, may , . on oct. , , boswell told johnson, that he had been 'agreeably mistaken' in saying:--'what would it avail me in this gloom of solitude?' [ ] it appears even by many a passage in the preface--one of the proudest pieces of writing in our language. 'the chief glory,' he writes, 'of every people arises from its authors: whether i shall add anything by my own writings to the reputation of english literature must be left to time.' 'i deliver,' he says, 'my book to the world with the spirit of a man that has endeavoured well.... in this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the author, and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns; yet it may gratify curiosity to inform it, that the _english dictionary_ was written with little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow.' _works_, v. pp. - . thomas warton wrote to his brother:--'i fear his preface will disgust by the expressions of his consciousness of superiority, and of his contempt of patronage.' wooll's _warton_, p. . [ ] that praise was slow in coming is shown by his letter to mr. burney, written two years and eight months after the publication of the _dictionary_. 'your praise,' he wrote, 'was welcome, not only because i believe it was sincere, but because praise has been very scarce.... yours is the only letter of good-will that i have received; though, indeed, i am promised something of that sort from sweden.' _post_, dec. , . [ ] in the _edinburgh review_ (no. , )--a periodical which only lasted two years--there is a review by adam smith of johnson's _dictionary_. smith admits the 'very extraordinary merit' of the author. 'the plan,' however, 'is not sufficiently grammatical.' to explain what he intends, he inserts 'an article or two from mr. johnson, and opposes to them the same articles, digested in the manner which we would have wished him to have followed.' he takes the words _but_ and _humour_. one part of his definition of humour is curious--'something which comes upon a man by fits, which he can neither command nor restrain, and which is not perfectly consistent with true politeness.' this essay has not, i believe, been reprinted. [ ] she died in march ; the _dictionary_ was published in april . [ ] in the preface he writes (_works_, v. ):--'much of my life has been lost under the pressures of disease; much has been trifled away; and much has always been spent in provision for the day that was passing over me.' in his fine latin poem [greek: inothi seauton] 'he has left,' says mr. murphy (_life_, p. ), 'a picture of himself drawn with as much truth, and as firm a hand, as can be seen in the portraits of hogarth or sir joshua reynolds.' he wrote it after revising and enlarging his _dictionary_, and he sadly asks himself what is left for him to do. me, pensi immunis cum jam mihi reddor, inertis desidiae sors dura manet, graviorque labore tristis et atra quies, et tardae taedia vitae. nascuntur curis curae, vexatque dolorum importuna cohors, vacuae mala somnia mentis. nunc clamosa juvant nocturnae gaudia mensae, nunc loca sola placent; frustra te, somne, recumbens, alme voco, impatiens noctis, metuensque diei. omnia percurro trepidus, circum omnia lustro, si qua usquam pateat melioris semita vitae, nec quid agam invenio.... quid faciam? tenebrisne pigram damnare senectam restat? an accingar studiis gravioribus audax? aut, hoc si nimium est, tandem nova lexica poscam? johnson's _works_, i. . [ ] a few weeks before his wife's death he wrote in _the rambler_ (no. ):--'the miseries of life would be increased beyond all human power of endurance, if we were to enter the world with the same opinions as we carry from it.' he would, i think, scarcely have expressed himself so strongly towards his end. though, as dr. maxwell records, in his _collectanea_ (_post_, ), 'he often used to quote with great pathos those fine lines of virgil:-- 'optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi prima fugit, &c.' yet he owned, and the pages of boswell amply testify, that it was in the latter period of his life that he had his happiest days. [ ] _macbeth_, act ii. sc. . [ ] in the third edition, published in , he left out the words _perhaps never_, and added the following paragraph:-- 'it sometimes begins middle or final syllables in words compounded, as _block-head_, or derived from the latin, as _compre-hended_.' boswell. in the _abridgment_, which was published some years earlier, after _never_ is added 'except in compounded words.' [ ] it was published in the _gent. mag_. for april, (xxv. ), just below the advertisement of the _dictionary_. [ ] in the original, 'milton and shakespeare.' [ ] the number of the french academy employed in settling their language. boswell. [ ] the maximum reward offered by a bill passed in was £ , for a method that determined the longitude at sea to half a degree of a great circle, or thirty geographical miles. for less accuracy smaller rewards were offered. _ann. reg_. viii. . in john harrison received £ , for his chronometer; he had previously been paid £ , ; _ib_. . in this act of parliament 'the legislature never contemplated the invention of a _method_, but only of the means of making existing methods accurate.' _penny cyclo_. xiv. . an old sea-faring man wrote to swift that he had found out the longitude. the dean replied 'that he never knew but two projectors, one of whom ruined himself and his family, and the other hanged himself; and desired him to desist lest one or other might happen to him.' swift's _works_ ( ), xvii. . in _she stoops to conquer_ (act i. sc. ), when tony ends his directions to the travellers by telling them,--'coming to the farmer's barn you are to turn to the right, and then to the left, and then to the right about again, till you find out the old mill;' marlow exclaims: 'zounds, man! we could as soon find out the longitude.' [ ] joseph baretti, a native of piedmont, came to england in (see preface to his _account of italy_, p. ix). he died in may, . in his _journey from london to genoa_ (ii. ), he says that his father was one of the two architects of the king of sardinia. shortly after his death a writer in the _gent. mag_. (iix. , ), who was believed to be vincent, dean of westminster, thus wrote of him:--'though his severity had created him enemies, his talents, conversation, and integrity had conciliated the regard of many valuable friends and acquaintance. his manners were apparently rough, but not unsocial. his integrity was in every period of his distresses constant and unimpeached. his wants he never made known but in the last extremity. he and johnson had been friends in distress. one evening, when they had agreed to go to the tavern, a foreigner in the streets, by a specious tale of distress, emptied the doctor's purse of the last half-guinea it contained. when the reckoning came, what was his surprise upon his recollecting that his purse was totally exhausted. baretti had fortunately enough to answer the demand, and has often declared that it was impossible for him not to reverence a man, who could give away all that he was worth, without recollecting his own distress.' see _post_, oct. , . [ ] see note by mr. warton, _ante_, p. . boswell. [ ] 'on saturday the th, about twelve at night, died mr. zachariah williams, in his eighty-third year, after an illness of eight months, in full possession of his mental faculties. he has been long known to philosophers and seamen for his skill in magnetism, and his proposal to ascertain the longitude by a peculiar system of the variation of the compass. he was a man of industry indefatigable, of conversation inoffensive, patient of adversity and disease, eminently sober, temperate, and pious; and worthy to have ended life with better fortune.' boswell. [ ] johnson's _works_, v. . malone, in a note on this passage, says:--'johnson appears to have been in this year in great pecuniary distress, having been arrested for debt; on which occasion richardson became his surety.' he refers to the following letter in the _richardson corres_, v. :-- 'to mr. richardson. 'tuesday, feb. , . 'dear sir, 'i return you my sincerest thanks for the favour which you were pleased to do me two nights ago. be pleased to accept of this little book, which is all that i have published this winter. the inflammation is come again into my eye, so that i can write very little. i am, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' the 'little book' is not (as mr. croker suggests) williams's _longitude_, for it was published in jan. (_gent. mag_. xxv. ); but the _abridgment of the dictionary_, which was advertised in the _gent. mag_. for jan. . murphy says (_life_, p. ), that he has before him a letter in johnson's handwriting, which shows the distress of the man who had written _the rambler_, and finished the great work of his _dictionary_. it is directed to mr. richardson, and is as follows:-- 'sir,--i am obliged to entreat your assistance. i am now under an arrest for five pounds eighteen shillings. mr. strahan, from whom i should have received the necessary help in this case, is not at home, and i am afraid of not finding mr. millar. if you will be so good as to send me this sum, i will very gratefully repay you, and add it to all former obligations. i am, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, 'samuel johnson. 'gough-square, march.' in the margin of this letter there is a memorandum in these words:--'march , . sent six guineas. witness, win. richardson.' in the _european mag_., vii. , there is the following anecdote recorded, for which steevens most likely was the authority:--'i remember writing to richardson' said johnson, 'from a spunging-house; and was so sure of my deliverance through his kindness and liberality, that before his reply was brought i knew i could afford to joke with the rascal who had me in custody, and did so over a pint of adulterated wine, for which at that instant i had no money to pay.' it is very likely that this anecdote has no other foundation than johnson's second letter to richardson, which is dated, not from a spunging-house, but from his own residence. what kind of fate awaited a man who was thrown into prison for debt is shown by the following passage in wesley's _journal_ (ii. ), dated feb. , :--'i visited one in the marshalsea prison, a nursery of all manner of wickedness. o shame to man, that there should be such a place, such a picture of hell upon earth!' a few days later he writes:--'i visited as many more as i could. i found some in their cells under ground; others in their garrets, half starved both with cold and hunger, added to weakness and pain.' [ ] in a debate on the copyright bill on may , , governor johnstone said:--'it had been urged that dr. johnson had received an after gratification from the booksellers who employed him to compile his _dictionary_. he had in his hand a letter from dr. johnson, which he read, in which the doctor denied the assertion, but declared that his employers fulfilled their bargain with him, and that he was satisfied.' _parl. hist_. xvii. . [ ] he more than once attacked them. thus in _an appeal to the public_, which he wrote for the _gent. mag_. in (_works_, v. ), he said:--'nothing is more criminal in the opinion of many of them, than for an author to enjoy more advantage from his own works than they are disposed to allow him. this is a principle so well established among them, that we can produce some who threatened printers with their highest displeasure, for having dared to print books for those that wrote them.' in the _life of savage_ (_ib_. viii. ), written in , he writes of the 'avarice, by which the booksellers are frequently incited to oppress that genius by which they are supported.' in the _life of dryden_ (_ib_. vii. ), written in , he speaks of an improvement. 'the general conduct of traders was much less liberal in those times than in our own; their views were narrower, and their manners grosser. to the mercantile ruggedness of that race the delicacy of the poet was sometimes exposed.' [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. [ ]. boswell. johnson wrote to miss boothby on dec. , :--'if i turn my thoughts upon myself, what do i perceive but a poor helpless being, reduced by a blast of wind to weakness and misery?... mr. fitzherbert sent to-day to offer me some wine; the people about me say i ought to accept it. i shall therefore be obliged to him if he will send me a bottle.' _pioszi letters_, ii. . [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell [ ] see _post_, april , . kit smart, once a fellow of pembroke hall, cambridge, ended his life in the king's bench prison; 'where he had owed to a small subscription, of which dr. burney was at the head, a miserable pittance beyond the prison allowance. in his latest letter to dr. burney, he passionately pleaded for a fellow-sufferer, "whom i myself," he impressively adds, "have already assisted according to my willing poverty." in another letter to the same friend he said:--"i bless god for your good nature, which please to take for a receipt."' _memoirs of dr. burney_, i. , . [ ] in this essay johnson writes (_works_, v. ):--'i think there is room to question whether a great part of mankind has yet been informed that life is sustained by the fruits of the earth. i was once, indeed, provoked to ask a lady of great eminence for genius, "whether she knew of what bread is made."' [ ] in _the universal visiter_ this essay is entitled, 'reflections on the present state of literature;' and in johnson's _works_, v. , 'a project for the employment of authors.' the whole world, he says, is turning author. their number is so large that employment must be found for them. 'there are some reasons for which they may seem particularly qualified for a military life. they are used to suffer want of every kind; they are accustomed to obey the word of command from their patrons and their booksellers; they have always passed a life of hazard and adventure, uncertain what may be their state on the next day.... there are some whom long depression under supercilious patrons has so humbled and crushed, that they will never have steadiness to keep their ranks. but for these men there may be found fifes and drums, and they will be well enough pleased to inflame others to battle, if they are not obliged to fight themselves.' [ ] he added it also to his _life of pope_. [ ] 'this employment,' wrote murphy (_life_, p. ), 'engrossed but little of johnson's time. he resigned himself to indolence, took no exercise, rose about two, and then received the visits of his friends. authors long since forgotten waited on him as their oracle, and he gave responses in the chair of criticism. he listened to the complaints, the schemes, and the hopes and fears of a crowd of inferior writers, "who," he said, in the words of roger ascham, "lived, men knew not how, and died obscure, men marked not when." he believed, that he could give a better history of grub street than any man living. his house was filled with a succession of visitors till four or five in the evening. during the whole time he presided at his tea-table.' in _the rambler_, no. , johnson takes the part of these inferior writers:--'a race of beings equally obscure and equally indigent, who, because their usefulness is less obvious to vulgar apprehensions, live unrewarded and die unpitied, and who have been long exposed to insult without a defender, and to censure without an apologist.' [ ] in this essay (_works_, vi. ) johnson describes canada as a 'region of desolate sterility,' 'a cold, uncomfortable, uninviting region, from which nothing but furs and fish were to be had.' [ ] the bill of that he considers passed through the commons but was rejected by the lords. it is curious as showing the comparative population of the different counties, devonshire was to furnish men--twice as many as lancashire. essex, kent, norfolk and suffolk were each to furnish men; lancashire, surrey, sussex, and wiltshire : durham and bedfordshire . from the three ridings of yorkshire were to be raised. the men were to be exercised every sunday before and after service. _the literary magazine_, p. . [ ] in this paper are found the forcible words, 'the desperate remedy of desperate distress,' which have been used since by orators. _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson considers here the war in america between the english and french, and shows a strong feeling for the natives who had been wronged by both nations. 'such is the contest that no honest man can heartily wish success to either party.... the american dispute between the french and us is only the quarrel of two robbers for the spoils of a passenger.' the french had this in their favour, that they had treated the natives better than we. 'the favour of the indians which they enjoy with very few exceptions among all the nations of the northern continent we ought to consider with other thoughts; this favour we might have enjoyed, if we had been careful to deserve it.' _works_, vi. , . [ ] these memoirs end with the year . johnson had intended to continue them, for he writes:--'we shall here suspend our narrative.' _ib_. vi. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the sentence continues:--'and produce heirs to the father's habiliments.' _ib_. vi. . another instance may be adduced of his _brownism_ in the following line:--'the war continued in an equilibration by alternate losses and advantages.' _ib_ . [ ] in a letter from the secretary of the tall club in _the guardian_, no. . 'if the fair sex look upon us with an eye of favour, we shall make some attempts to lengthen out the human figure, and restore it to its ancient procerity.' [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'as power is the constant and unavoidable consequence of learning, there is no reason to doubt that the time is approaching when the americans shall in their turn have some influence on the affairs of mankind, for literature apparently gains ground among them. a library is established in carolina and some great electrical discoveries were made at philadelphia...the fear that the american colonies will break off their dependence on england i have always thought chimerical and vain ... they must be dependent, and if they forsake us, or be forsaken by us, must fall into the hands of france.' _literary magazine_, pp. , . [ ] johnson, i have no doubt, wrote the _review of a true account of lisbon since the earthquake_, in which it is stated that the destruction was grossly exaggerated. after quoting the writer at length, he concludes:--'such then is the actual, real situation of _that place which once was_ lisbon, and has been since gazetically and pamphletically quite destroyed, consumed, annihilated! now, upon comparing this simple narration of things and facts with the false and absurd accounts which have rather insulted and imposed upon us than informed us, who but must see the enormous disproportion?... exaggeration and the absurdities ever faithfully attached to it are inseparable attitudes of the ignorant, the empty, and the affected. hence those eloquent tropes so familiar in every conversation, _monstrously pretty, vastly little_; ... hence your _eminent shoe-maker, farriers, and undertakers_.... it is to the same muddy source we owe the many falsehoods and absurdities we have been pestered with concerning lisbon. thence your extravagantly sublime figures: _lisbon is no more; can be seen no more_, etc., ... with all the other prodigal effusions of bombast beyond that stretch of time or temper to enumerate. _ib_. p. . see _post_, under march , . [ ] in the original _undigested_. [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] in the spring of , after the king had taken advantage of fox's india bill to dismiss the coalition ministry. see _post_, march , . [ ] in ireland there was no act to limit the duration of parliament. one parliament sat through the whole reign of george ii--thirty-three years. dr. lucas, a dublin physician, in attacking other grievances, attacked also this. in he would have been elected member for dublin, had he not, on a charge of seditious writings, been committed by the house of commons to prison. he was to be confined, he was told, 'in the common hall of the prison among the felons.' he fled to england, which was all that the government wanted, and he practised as a physician in london. in he was restored to the liberties of the city of dublin and was also elected one of its members. hardy's _lord charlemont_, i. , ; and _gent. mag_., xx. and xxxi. . [ ] boswell himself falls into this 'cant.' see _post_, sept. , . [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. ii. [ ] _ib_. p. . he vigorously attacks the style in which these 'memoirs' are written. 'sometimes,' he writes, 'the reader is suddenly ravished with a sonorous sentence, of which, when the noise is past, the meaning does not long remain.' _ib_. p. . [ ] the author of _friendship in death_. [ ] in the _lives of the poets (works, viii. ) johnson writes:--'dr watts was one of the first authors that taught the dissenters to court attention by the graces of language. whatever they had among them before, whether of learning or acuteness, was commonly obscured and blunted by coarseness and inelegance of style. he showed them that zeal and purity might be expressed and enforced by polished diction.' [ ] 'such he [dr. watts] was as every christian church would rejoice to have adopted.' _ib_. p. . see also _post_, july , , and may , . [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] mr. hanway would have had the support of johnson's father, who, as his son writes, 'considered tea as very expensive, and discouraged my mother from keeping company with the neighbours, and from paying visits or receiving them. she lived to say, many years after, that if the time were to pass again, she would not comply with such unsocial injunctions.' _account of johnson's early life_, p. . the methodists, ten years earlier than hanway, had declared war on tea. 'after talking largely with both the men and women leaders,' writes wesley, 'we agreed it would prevent great expense, as well of health as of time and of money, if the poorer people of our society could be persuaded to leave off drinking of tea.' wesley's _journal_, i. . pepys, writing in , says: 'i did send for a cup of tee, (a china drink) of which i never had drank before.' pepys' _diary_, i. . horace walpole (_letters_, i. ) writing in says:--'they have talked of a new duty on tea, to be paid by every housekeeper for all the persons in their families; but it will scarce be proposed. tea is so universal, that it would make a greater clamour than a duty on wine.' in october tea was sold in london at the following prices:--ordinary bohca s. per lb. fine bohca s. to s. per lb. pekoe s. per lb. hyson s. to s. per lb. _gent. mag_. iv. . [ ] yet in his reply to mr. hanway he said (_works_, vi. ):--'i allowed tea to be a barren superfluity, neither medicinal nor nutritious, that neither supplied strength nor cheerfulness, neither relieved weariness, nor exhilarated sorrow.' cumberland writes (_memoirs_, i. ):--'i remember when sir joshua reynolds at my house reminded dr. johnson that he had drank eleven cups, he replied: "sir, i did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?" and then laughing in perfect good humour he added:--"sir, i should have released the lady from any further trouble, if it had not been for your remark; but you have reminded me that i want one of the dozen, and i must request mrs. cumberland to round up my number."' [ ] in this review johnson describes himself as 'a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has for twenty years diluted his meals with only the infusion of this fascinating plant; whose kettle has scarcely time to cool; who with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes the morning.' johnson's _works_, vi. . that 'he never felt the least inconvenience from it' may well be doubted. his nights were almost always bad. in he recorded:--'i could not drink this day either coffee or tea after dinner. i know not when i missed before.' the next day he recorded:--'last night my sleep was remarkably quiet. i know not whether by fatigue in walking, or by forbearance of tea.' _diary of a journey into north wales_, aug. . [ ] see _post_, may, . [ ] 'losing, he wins, because his name will be ennobled by defeat who durst contend with me.' dryden, ovid, _meta_., xiii. . [ ] in hanway's _essay_ johnson found much to praise. hanway often went to the root when he dealt with the evils of life. thus he writes:--'the introducing new habits of life is the most substantial charity.' but he thus mingles sense and nonsense:--'though tea and gin have spread their baneful influence over this island and his majesty's other dominions, yet you may be well assured that the governors of the foundling hospital will exert their utmost skill and vigilance to prevent the children under their care from being poisoned, or enervated, by one or the other.' johnson's _works_, vi. , . [ ] 'et pourquoi tuer cet amiral? c'est, lui dit-on, parce qu'il n'a pas fait tuer assez de monde; il a livré un combat à un amiral français, et on a trouvé qu'il n'était pas assez près de lui. mais, dit candide, l'amiral français était aussi loin de l'amiral anglais que celui-ci l'était de l'autre. cela est incontestable, lui répliquat-on; mais dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer de temps en temps un amiral pour encourager les autres.' _candide_, ch. xxiii. [ ] see _post_, june , , when boswell went to this church. [ ] johnson reprinted this review in a small volume by itself. see johnson's _works_, vi. , note. [ ] 'i have ventured, like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, this many summers in a sea of glory, but far beyond my depth.' henry viii, act iii. sc. . [ ] _musical travels through england_, by joel collier [not collyer], organist, . this book was written in ridicule of dr. burney's _travels_, who, says his daughter, 'was much hurt on its first appearance.' dr. burney's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] some time after dr. johnson's death there appeared in the newspapers and magazines an illiberal and petulant attack upon him, in the form of an epitaph, under the name of mr. soame jenyns, very unworthy of that gentleman, who had quietly submitted to the critical lash while johnson lived. it assumed, as characteristicks of him, all the vulgar circumstances of abuse which had circulated amongst the ignorant. it was an unbecoming indulgence of puny resentment, at a time when he himself was at a very advanced age, and had a near prospect of descending to the grave. i was truly sorry for it; for he was then become an avowed, and (as my lord bishop of london, who had a serious conversation with him on the subject, assures me) a sincere christian. he could not expect that johnson's numerous friends would patiently bear to have the memory of their master stigmatized by no mean pen, but that, at least, one would be found to retort. accordingly, this unjust and sarcastick epitaph was met in the same publick field by an answer, in terms by no means soft, and such as wanton provocation only could justify: 'epitaph, '_prepared for a creature_ not quite dead _yet_. 'here lies a little ugly nauseous elf, who judging only from its wretched self, feebly attempted, petulant and vain, the "origin of evil" to explain. a mighty genius at this elf displeas'd, with a strong critick grasp the urchin squeez'd. for thirty years its coward spleen it kept, till in the duat the mighty genius slept; then stunk and fretted in expiring snuff, and blink'd at johnson with its last poor puff.' boswell. the epitaph is very likely boswell's own. for jenyns's conversion see _post_, april and , . [ ] mr. john payne, afterwards chief accountant of the bank, one of the four surviving members of the ivy lane club who dined together in . see hawkins's _johnson_, pp. , ; and _post_, december, . [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] 'he said, "i am sorry i have not learnt to play at cards. it is very useful in life; it generates kindness and consolidates society."' boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, d edit. p. . [aug. .] boswell. [ ] johnson's _works_, p. . [ ] he was paid at the rate of a little over twopence a line. for this introduction see _ib_. . [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] in he set apart the yearly sum of £ to be distributed, by way of premium, to the authors of the best inventions, &c., in ireland. chalmers's _biog. dict_. [ ] _boulter's monument. a panegyrical poem, sacred to the memory of that great and excellent prelate and patriot, the most reverend dr. hugh boulter; late lord-archbishop of ardmagh, and primate of all ireland_. dublin, . such lines as the following might well have been blotted, but of them the poem is chiefly formed:-- 'my peaceful song in lays instructive paints the first of mitred peers and britain's saints.' p. . 'ha! mark! what gleam is that which paints the air? the blue serene expands! is boulter there?' p. . the poet addresses boulter's successor hoadley, who he says, 'shall equal him; while, like elisha, you enjoy his spirit, and his mantle too.' p. . a note to _mantle_ says 'alluding to the metropolitan pallium.' boulter is the bishop in pope's lines, (_prologue to the satires_, . ):-- 'does not one table bavius still admit? 'still to one bishop philips seem a wit?' pattison's _pope's satires_, p. . in the _life of addison_, johnson mentioning dr. madden adds:--'a name which ireland ought to honour.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . hawkins writes (_life_, p. ):--'i congratulated him length, on his being now engaged in a work that suited his genius. his answer was:--"i look upon this as i did upon the _dictionary_; it is all work, and my inducement to it is not love or desire of fame, but the want of money, which is the only motive to writing that i know of."' [ ] they have been reprinted by mr. malone, in the preface to his edition of _shakspeare_. boswell. [ ] at christmas, , he said that he should publish about march, (_post_, dec. , ). when march came he said that he should publish before summer (_post_, march , ). [ ] in what johnson says of pope's slow progress in translating the _iliad_, he had very likely his own case in view. 'indolence, interruption, business, and pleasure all take their turns of retardation; and every long work is lengthened by a thousand causes that can, and ten thousand that cannot be recounted. perhaps no extensive and multifarious performance was ever effected within the term originally fixed in the undertaker's mind. he that runs against time has an antagonist not subject to casualties.' johnson's _works_, viii. . in prior's _goldsmith_ (i. ) we have the following extracts from letters written by grainger (_post_, march , ) to dr. percy:--'june , . i have several times called on johnson to pay him part of your subscription [for his edition of _shakespeare_]. i say, part, because he never thinks of working if he has a couple of guineas in his pocket; but if you notwithstanding order me, the whole shall be given him at once.' 'july , . as to his _shakespeare, movet sed non promovet_. i shall feed him occasionally with guineas.' [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'reynolds and some other of his friends, who were more concerned for his reputation than himself seemed to be, contrived to entangle him by a wager, or some other pecuniary engagement, to perform his task by a certain time.' just as johnson was oppressed by the engagement that he had made to edit _shakespeare_, so was cowper by his engagement to edit _milton_. 'the consciousness that there is so much to do and nothing done is a burthen i am not able to bear. _milton_ especially is my grievance, and i might almost as well be haunted by his ghost, as goaded with such continual reproaches for neglecting him.' southey's _cowper_, vii. . [ ] from _the ghost_, bk. iii. . . boswell makes two slight errors in quoting: 'you cash' should be 'their cash; and 'you know' should be 'we know.' [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] mrs. thrale writing to him in , says:--'you would rather be sick in london than well in the country.' _piozzi letters_. i. . yet johnson, when he could afford to travel, spent far more time in the country than is commonly thought. moreover a great part of each summer from to inclusive he spent at streatham. [ ] the motto to this number 'steriles nec legit arenas, ut caneret paucis, mersitque hoc pulvere verum.' (lucan). johnson has thus translated:-- 'canst thou believe the vast eternal mind was e'er to syrts and libyan sands confin'd? that he would choose this waste, this barren ground, to teach the thin inhabitants around, and leave his truth in wilds and deserts drown'd?' [ ] it was added to the january number of , but it was dropped in the following numbers. [ ] according to the note in the _gent. mag_. the speech was delivered 'at a certain respectable talking society.' the chairman of the meeting is addressed as mr. president. the speech is vigorously written and is, i have no doubt, by johnson. 'it is fit,' the speaker says, 'that those whom for the future we shall employ and pay may know they are the servants of a people that _expect duty for their money_. it is said an address expresses some distrust of the king, or may tend to disturb his quiet. an english king, mr. president, has no great right to quiet when his people are in misery.' [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'i have often observed with wonder, that we should know less of ireland than of any other country in europe.' temple's _works_, iii. . [ ] the celebrated oratour, mr. flood has shewn himself to be of dr. johnson's opinion; having by his will bequeathed his estate, after the death of his wife lady frances, to the university of dublin; 'desiring that immediately after the said estate shall come into their possession, they shall appoint two professors, one for the study of the native erse or irish language, and the other for the study of irish antiquities and irish history, and for the study of any other european language illustrative of, or auxiliary to, the study of irish antiquities or irish history; and that they shall give yearly two liberal premiums for two compositions, one in verse, and the other in prose, in the irish language.' boswell. [ ] dr. t. campbell records in his _diary of a visit to england_ (p. ), that at the dinner at messieurs dilly's (_post_, april , ) he 'ventured to say that the first professors of oxford, paris, &c., were irish. "sir," says johnson, "i believe there is something in what you say, and i am content with it, since they are not scotch."' [ ] 'on mr. thrale's attack of apoplexy in , johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'i remember dr. marsigli, an italian physician, whose seizure was more violent than mr. thrale's, for he fell down helpless, but his case was not considered as of much danger, and he went safe home, and is now a professor at padua.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'now, or late, vice-chancellor.' warton.--boswell. he was vice-chancellor when johnson's degree was conferred (_ante_, p. ), but his term of office had now come to an end. [ ] 'mr. warton was elected professor of poetry at oxford in the preceding year.' warton.-boswell. [ ] 'miss jones lived at oxford, and was often of our parties. she was a very ingenious poetess, and published a volume of poems; and, on the whole, was a most sensible, agreeable, and amiable woman. she was a sister to the reverend river jones, chanter of christ church cathedral at oxford, and johnson used to call her the _chantress_. i have heard him often address her in this passage from _il penseroso_: "thee, chantress, oft the woods among i woo," etc. she died unmarried.' wharton [ ] tom. iii. p. . boswell. [ ] of _shakspeare_. boswell. [ ] this letter is misdated. it was written in jan. , and not in . johnson says that he is forty-nine. in jan. he was forty-eight. he mentions the performance of _cleane_, which was at the end of ; and he says that 'murphy is to have his _orphan of china_ acted next month.' it was acted in the spring of . [ ] _juvenal_, sat. iii. . 'though grief and fondness in my breast rebel, when injured thales bids the town farewell, yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend, i praise the hermit, but regret the friend; resolved at length from vice and london far to breathe in distant fields a purer air, and fixed on cambria's solitary shore give to st. david one true briton more.' johnson's _london_, l. . [ ] mr. garrick. boswell. [ ] mr. dodsley, the authour of _cleone_. boswell. garrick, according to davies, had rejected dodsley's _cleone_, 'and had termed it a cruel, bloody, and unnatural play.' davies's _garrick_, i. . johnson himself said of it:--'i am afraid there is more blood than brains.' _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. the night it was brought out at covent garden, garrick appeared for the first time as marplot in the _busy body_ at drury lane. the next morning he wrote to congratulate dodsley on his success, and asked him at the same time to let him know how he could support his interest without absolutely giving up his own. to this dodsley returned a cold reply. garrick wrote back as follows:-- 'master robert dodsley, when i first read your peevish answer to my well-meant proposal to you, i was much disturbed at it--but when i considered, that some minds cannot bear the smallest portion of success, i most sincerely pitied you; and when i found in the same letter, that you were graciously pleased to dismiss me from your acquaintance, i could not but confess so apparent an obligation, and am with due acknowledgements, master robert dodsley, your most obliged david garrick.' garrick _corres_., i. (where the letters that passed are wrongly dated ). mrs. bellamy in her _life_ (iii. ) says that on the evening of the performance she was provoked by something that dodsley said, 'which,' she continues, 'made me answer that good man with a petulance which afterwards gave me uneasiness. i told him that i had a reputation to lose as an actress; but, as for his piece, mr. garrick had anticipated the damnation of it publicly, the preceding evening, at the bedford coffee-house, where he had declared that it could not pass muster, as it was the very worst piece ever exhibited.' shenstone (_works_, iii. ) writing five weeks after the play was brought out, says:--'dodsley is now going to print his fourth edition. he sold of his first edition the very first day he published it.' the price was eighteen-pence. [ ] mrs. bellamy (_life_, iii. ) says that johnson was present at the last rehearsal. 'when i came to repeat, "thou shalt not murder," dr. johnson caught me by the arm, and that somewhat too briskly, saying, at the same time, "it is a commandment, and must be spoken, thou shalt _not_ murder." as i had not then the honour of knowing personally that great genius, i was not a little displeased at his inforcing his instructions with so much vehemence.' the next night she heard, she says, amidst the general applause, 'the same voice which had instructed me in the commandment, exclaim aloud from the pit, "i will write a copy of verses upon her myself." i knew that my success was insured.' see _post_, may , . [ ] dodsley had published his _london_ and his _vanity of human wishes_ (_ante_, pp. , ), and had had a large share in the _dictionary_, (_ante_, p. ). [ ] it is to this that churchill refers in the following lines:-- 'let them [the muses] with glover o'er medea doze; let them with dodsley wail cleone's woes, whilst he, fine feeling creature, all in tears, melts as they melt, and weeps with weeping peers.' _the journey_. _poems_, ii. . [ ] see _post_ p. , note. [ ] mr. samuel richardson, authour of _clarissa_. boswell. [ ] in when in devonshire he charged five guineas a head (taylor's _reynolds_, i. ); shortly afterwards, when he removed to london, twelve guineas (_ib_. p. ); in , thirty guineas; for a whole length guineas (_ib_. p. ). northcote writes that 'he sometimes has lamented the being interrupted in his work by idle visitors, saying, "those persons do not consider that my time is worth to me five guineas an hour."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] 'miss reynolds at first amused herself by painting miniature portraits, and in that part of the art was particularly successful. in her attempts at oil-painting, however, she did not succeed, which made reynolds say jestingly, that her pictures in that way made other people laugh and him cry; and as he did not approve of her painting in oil, she generally did it by stealth.' _ib_. ii. . [ ] murphy was far from happy. the play was not produced till april; by the date of johnson's letter, he had not by any means reached the end of what he calls 'the first, and indeed, the last, disagreeable controversy that he ever had with mr. garrick.' murphy's _garrick_, p. . [ ] this letter was an answer to one in which was enclosed a draft for the payment of some subscriptions to his _shakspeare_. boswell. [ ] in the preface he says:--(_works_, v. ) 'i have not passed over with affected superiority what is equally difficult to the reader and to myself, but where i could not instruct him, have owned my ignorance.' [ ] northcote gives the following account of this same garret in describing how reynolds introduced roubiliac to johnson. 'johnson received him with much civility, and took them up into a garret, which he considered as his library; where, besides his books, all covered with dust, there was an old crazy deal table, and a still worse and older elbow chair, having only three legs. in this chair johnson seated himself, after having, with considerable dexterity and evident practice, first drawn it up against the wall, which served to support it on that side on which the leg was deficient.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . miss reynolds improves on the account. she says that 'before johnson had the pension he literally dressed like a beggar; and, from what i have been told, he as literally lived as such; at least as to common conveniences in his apartments, wanting even a chair to sit on, particularly in his study, where a gentleman who frequently visited him, whilst writing his _idlers_, constantly found him at his desk, sitting on one with three legs; and on rising from it, he remarked that dr. johnson never forgot its defect, but would either hold it in his hand, or place it with great composure against some support, taking no notice of its imperfection to his visitor. it was remarkable in johnson, that no external circumstances ever prompted him to make any apology, or to seem even sensible of their existence.' croker's _boswell_, p. . there can be little question that she is describing the same room--a room in a house in which miss williams was lodged, and most likely mr. levet, and in which mr. burney dined; and in which certainly there must have been chairs. yet mr. carlyle, misled by her account, says:--'in his apartments, at one time, there were unfortunately no chairs.' carlyle's _miscellanies_, ed. , iv. . [ ] in his _life of pope_ (_works_, viii. ) johnson calls theobald 'a man of heavy diligence, with very slender powers.' in the preface to shakspeare he admits that 'what little he did was commonly right.' _ib_. v. . the editors of the _cambridge shakespeare_ on the other hand say:--'theobald, as an editor, is incomparably superior to his predecessors, and to his immediate successor warburton, although the latter had the advantage of working on his materials. many most brilliant emendations are due to him.' on johnson's statement that 'warburton would make two-and-fifty theobalds, cut into slices,' they write:--'from this judgment, whether they be compared as critics or editors, we emphatically dissent.' _cambridge shakespeare_, i., xxxi., xxxiv., note. among theobald's 'brilliant emendations' are 'a'babbled of green fields' (_henry v_, ii. ), and 'lackeying the varying tide.' (_antony and cleopatra_, i. ). [ ] '_a familiar epistle_ [by lord bolingbroke] _to the most impudent man living_, .' _brit. mus. catal_. [ ] 'mallet, by address or accident, perhaps by his dependence on the prince [of wales], found his way to bolingbroke, a man whose pride and petulance made his kindness difficult to gain or keep, and whom mallet was content to court by an act, which, i hope, was unwillingly performed. when it was found that pope had clandestinely printed an unauthorised number of the pamphlet called _the patriot king_, bolingbroke, in a fit of useless fury, resolved to blast his memory, and employed mallet ( ) as the executioner of his vengeance. mallet had not virtue, or had not spirit, to refuse the office; and was rewarded not long after with the legacy of lord bolingbroke's works.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, p. , and walpole's _letters_, ii. . [ ] _a view of lord bolingbroke's philosophy in four letters to a friend_, - . [ ] a paper under this name had been started seven years earlier. see _carter and talbot corres_., ii. . [ ] in the two years in which johnson wrote for this paper it saw many changes. the first _idler_ appeared in no. of the _universal chronicle or weekly gazette_, which was published not by newbery, but by j. payne. on april , this paper took the title of _payne's universal chronicle_, etc. on jan. , , it resumed the old title and was published by r. stevens. on jan. , , the title was changed to _the universal chronicle and westminster journal_, and it was published by w. faden and r. stevens. on march , , it was published by r. stevens alone. the paper consisted of eight pages. _the idler_, which varied in length, came first, and was printed in larger characters, much like a leading article. the changes in title and ownership seem to show that in spite of johnson's contributions it was not a successful publication. [ ] 'those papers may be considered as a kind of syllabus of all reynolds's future discourses, and certainly occasioned him some thinking in their composition. i have heard him say, that johnson required them from him on a sudden emergency, and on that account, he sat up the whole night to complete them in time; and by it he was so much disordered, that it produced a vertigo in his head.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. , reynolds must have spoken of only one paper; as the three, appearing as they did on sept. , oct. , and nov. , could not have been required at one time. [ ] 'to be idle and to be poor have always been reproaches, and therefore every man endeavours with his utmost care to hide his poverty from others, and his idleness from himself.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] prayers and meditations, p. [ ], boswell. [ ] in july, . [ ] this number was published a few days after his mother's death. it is in the form of a letter, which is thus introduced:-'the following letter relates to an affliction perhaps not necessary to be imparted to the publick; but i could not persuade myself to suppress it, because i think i know the sentiments to be sincere, and i feel no disposition to provide for this day any other entertainment.' [ ] in the table of contents the title of no. is, 'expectations of pleasure frustrated.' in the original edition of _the idler_ no titles are given. in this paper he shews that 'nothing is more hopeless than a scheme of merriment.' [ ] in this paper he begins by considering, 'why the only thinking being of this globe is doomed to think merely to be wretched, and to pass his time from youth to age in fearing or in suffering calamities.' he ends by asserting that 'of what virtue there is, misery produces far the greater part.' [ ] 'there are few things,' he writes, 'not purely evil, of which we can say, without some emotion of uneasiness, _this is the last_.... the secret horrour of the last is inseparable from a thinking being, whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful.' [ ] 'i asked him one day, why the _idlers_ were published without mottoes. he replied, that it was forborne the better to conceal himself, and escape discovery. "but let us think of some now," said he, "for the next edition. we can fit the two volumnes in two hours, can't we?" accordingly he recollected, and i wrote down these following (nine mottoes) till come friend coming in, in about five minutes, put an end to our further progress on the subject.' _piossi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, july and , , april , , and aug. , , note for instances in which johnson ridicules the notion that weather and seasons have any necessary effect on man; also april , . in the _life of milton_ (_works_. vii. ), he writes:--'this dependence of the soul upon the seasons, those temporary and periodical ebbs and flows of intellect, may, i suppose, justly be derided as the fumes of vain imagination. _sapiens dominabitur astro_. the author that thinks himself weather-bound will find, with a little help from hellebore, that he is only idle or exhausted. but while this notion has possession of the head, it produces the inability with it supposes. our powers owe much of their energy to our hopes; _possunt quin posse vidertur_.' boswell records, in his _hebrides_ (aug. , ), that when 'somebody talked of happy moments for composition,' johnson said:--'nay, a man may write at any time, if he will set himself _doggedly_ to it.' reynolds, who alas! avowed how much he had learnt from johnson (_ante_, p. ), says much the same in his _seventh discourse_: 'but when, in plain prose, we gravely talk of courting the muse in shady bowers; waiting the call and inspiration of genius ... of attending to times and seasons when the imagination shoots with the greatest vigour, whether at the summer solstice or the vernal equinox ... when we talk such language or entertain such sentiments as these, we generally rest contented with mere words, or at best entertain notions not only groundless but pernicious.' reynolds's _works_, i. . on the other hand, in johnson recorded:--'between easter and whitsuntide, having always considered that time as propitious to study, i attempted to learn the low-dutch language.' _post_, under may , . in _the rambler_, no. , he says:--'to the men of study and imagination the winter is generally the chief time of labour. gloom and silence produce composure of mind and concentration of ideas.' in a letter to mrs. thrale, written in , he says:--'most men have their bright and their cloudy days, at least they have days when they put their powers into act, and days when they suffer them to repose.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in he wrote:--'i thought myself above assistance or obstruction from the seasons; but find the autumnal blast sharp and nipping, and the fading world an uncomfortable prospect.' _ib_. ii. . again, in the last year of his life he wrote:--'the: weather, you know, has not been balmy. i am now reduced to think, and am at least content to talk, of the weather. pride must have a fall.' _post_, aug. , . [ ] addison's _cato_, act i. sc. . [ ] johnson, reviewing the duchess of marlborough's attack on queen mary, says (_works_, vi. ):--'this is a character so different from all those that have been hitherto given of this celebrated princess, that the reader stands in suspense, till he considers that ... it has hitherto had this great advantage, that it has only been compared with those of kings.' [ ] johnson had explained how it comes to pass that englishmen talk so commonly of the weather. he continues:--'such is the reason of our practice; and who shall treat it with contempt? surely not the attendant on a court, whose business is to watch the looks of a being weak and foolish as himself, and whose vanity is to recount the names of men, who might drop into nothing, and leave no vacuity.... the weather is a nobler and more interesting subject; it is the present state of the skies and of the earth, on which plenty and famine are suspended, on which millions depend for the necessaries of life.' 'garrick complained that when he went to read before the court, not a look or a murmur testified approbation; there was a profound stillness--every one only watched to see what the king thought.' hazlitt's _conversations of northcote_, p. . [ ] _the idler_, no. . see _post_, april , , where he declaims against action in public speaking. [ ] he now and then repeats himself. thus, in _the idler_, no. , he moralises on the story, how socrates, passing through the fair at athens, cried out:--'how many things are here which i do not need!' though he had already moralised on it in _the adventurer_, nos. , . [ ] no. . [ ] _poems on several occasions_, by thomas blacklock, p. . see _post_, aug. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'among the papers of newbery, in the possession of mr. murray, is the account rendered on the collection of _the idler_ into two small volumes, when the arrangement seems to have been that johnson should receive two-thirds of the profits. _the idler_. 'dr. £. s. d. paid for advertising.. printing two vols., , paper. . . . . . . * * * * * £ profit on the edition . * * * * * £ * * * * * 'cr. £. s. d. , sets at £ per * * * * * dr. johnson two-thirds mr. newbery one-third. * * * * * £ * * * * * forster's _goldsmith_, i. . if this account is correctly printed, the sale must have been slow. the first edition ( vols. s.) was published in oct. , (_gent. mag_. xxxi. ). johnson is called dr. in the account; but he was not made an ll.d. till july . prior, in his _life of goldsmith_ (i. ), publishes an account between goldsmith and newbery in which the first entry is:-- ' . oct. , set of _the idler_. . . . . £ .' johnson, as newbery's papers show, a year later bought a copy of goldsmith's _life of nash_; _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] this paper may be found in stockdale's supplemental volume of johnson's _miscellaneous pieces_. boswell. stockdale's supplemental volumes--for there are two--are vols. xii. and xiii. of what is known as 'hawkins's edition.' in this paper (_works_, iv. ) he represents in a fable two vultures speculating on that mischievous being, man, 'who is the only beast who kills that which he does not devour,' who at times is seen to move in herds, while 'there is in every herd one that gives directions to the rest, and seems to be more eminently delighted with a wide carnage.' [ ] 'receipts for _shakespeare_.' warton.--boswell. [ ] 'then of lincoln college. now sir robert chambers, one of the judges in india.' warton.--boswell. [ ] old mr. langton's niece. see _post,_ july , . [ ] 'mr. langton.' warton.--boswell. [ ] boswell records:--'lady di beauclerk told me that langton had never been to see her since she came to richmond, his head was so full of the militia and greek. "why," said i, "madam, he is of such a length he is awkward and not easily moved." "but," said she, "if he had lain himself at his length, his feet had been in london, and his head might have been here _eodem die_."' _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] 'part of the impression of the _shakespeare_, which dr. johnson conducted alone, and published by subscription. this edition came out in .' warton.--boswell. [ ] stockdale records (_memoirs_, ii. ), that after he had entered on his charge as domestic tutor to lord craven's son, he called on johnson, who asked him how he liked his place. on his hesitating to answer, he said: 'you must expect insolence.' he added that in his youth he had entertained great expectations from a powerful family. "at length," he said, "i found that their promises, and consequently my expectations, vanished into air.... but, sir, they would have treated me much worse, if they had known that motives from which i paid my court to them were purely selfish, and what opinion i had formed of them." he added, that since he knew mankind, he had not, on any occasion, been the sport of such delusion and that he had never been disappointed by anyone but himself.' [ ] this, and some of the other letters to langton, were not received by boswell till the first volume of the second edition had been carried through the press. he gave them as a supplement to the second volume. the date of this letter was there wrongly given as june , . in the third edition it was corrected. nevertheless the letter was misplaced as if the wrong date were the right one. langton, as i have shewn (_ante_, p. ), subscribed the articles at oxford on july , . he must have come into residence, as johnson did (_ante_, p. ), some little while before this subscription. [ ] major-general alexander dury, of the first regiment of foot-guards, who fell in the gallant discharge of his duty, near st. cas, in the well-known unfortunate expedition against france, in . his lady and mr. langton's mother was sisters. he left an only son, lieutenant-colonel dury, who has a company in the same regiment. boswell. the expedition had been sent against st. malo early in september. failing in the attempt, the land forces retreated to st. cas, where, while embarking, they were attacked by the french. about of our soldiers were made prisoners, and killed and wounded. _ann. reg_.i. . [ ] see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_. [ ] hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. 'in the beginning of the year an event happened for which it might be imagined he was well prepared, the death of his mother, who had attained the age of ninety; but he, whose mind had acquired no firmness by the contemplation of mortality, was as little able to sustain the shock, as he would have been had this loss befallen him in his nonage.' [ ] we may apply to johnson in his behaviour to his mother what he said of pope in his behaviour to his parents:--'whatever was his pride, to them he was obedient; and whatever was his irritability, to them he was gentle. life has among its soothing and quiet comforts few things better to give than such a son.' johnson's _works_, viii. . in _the idler_ of january , (no. ), johnson shews his grief for his loss. 'the last year, the last day must come. it has come, and is past. the life which made my own life pleasant is at an end, and the gates of death are shut upon my prospects.... such is the condition of our present existence that life must one time lose its associations, and every inhabitant of the earth must walk downward to the grave alone and unregarded, without any partner of his joy or grief, without any interested witness of his misfortunes or success. misfortune, indeed, he may yet feel; for where is the bottom of the misery of man? but what is success to him that has none to enjoy it? happiness is not found in self-contemplation; it is perceived only when it is reflected from another.' in _rasselas_ (ch. xlv.) he makes a sage say with a sigh:--'praise is to have an old man an empty sound. i have neither mother to be delighted with the reputation of her son, nor wife to partake the honours of her husband.' he here says once more what he had already said in his _letter to lord chesterfield_ (_ante_, p. ), and in the _preface to the dictionary_ (_ante_, p. ). [ ] writing to his birmingham friend, mr. hector, on oct. , , he said:--'i have been thinking every month of coming down into the country, but every month has brought its hinderances. from that kind of melancholy indisposition which i had when we lived together at birmingham i have never been free, but have always had it operating against my health and my life with more or less violence. i hope however to see all my friends, all that are remaining, in no very long time.' _notes and queries_, th s. iii. . no doubt his constant poverty and the need that he was under of making 'provision for the day that was passing over him' had had much to do in keeping him from a journey to lichfield. a passage in one of his letters shews that fourteen years later the stage-coach took twenty-six hours in going from london to lichfield. (_piozzi letters_, i. .) the return journey was very uncertain; for 'our carriages,' he wrote, 'are only such as pass through the place sometimes full and sometimes vacant.' a traveller had to watch for a place (_ib_. p. ). as measured by time london was, in , one hour farther from lichfield than it now is from marseilles. it is strange, when we consider the long separation between johnson and his mother, that in _rasselas_, written just after her death, he makes imlac say:-'there is such communication [in europe] between distant places, that one friend can hardly be said to be absent from another.' _rasselas_, chap, xi. his step-daughter, miss porter, though for many years she was well off, had never been to london. _post_, march , . nay, according to horace walpole (_memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. ), 'george iii. had never seen the sea, nor ever been thirty miles from london at the age of thirty-four.' [ ] for the letters written at this time by johnson to his mother and miss porter, see appendix b. [ ] _rasselas_ was published in two volumes, duodecimo, and was sold for five shillings. it was reviewed in the _gent. mag_. for april, and was no doubt published in that month. in a letter to miss porter dated march , (see appendix), johnson says:--'i am going to publish a little story-book, which i will send you when it is out.' i may here remark that the _gent. mag_. was published at the end of the month, or even later. thus the number for april, , contains news as late as april . the name _rasselas_ johnson got from lobo's _voyage to abyssinia_. on p. of that book he mentions 'rassela christos, lieutenant-general to _abysinia; sultan segued.' on p. he explains the meaning of the first part of the word:--'there is now a generalissimo established under the title of _ras_, or _chief_.' the title still exists. colonel gordon mentions ras arya and ras aloula. the rev. w. west, in his _introduction to rasselas_, p. xxxi (sampson low and co.), says:--'the word _ras_, which is common to the amharic, arabic, and hebrew tongues, signifies a _head_, and hence a prince, chief, or captain.... sela christos means either "picture of christ," or "for the sake of christ."' [ ] hawkins's johnson, p. . [ ] see _post_, june , . finding it then accidentally in a chaise with mr. boswell, he read it eagerly. this was doubtless long after his declaration to sir joshua reynolds. malone. [ ] baretti told malone that 'johnson insisted on part of the money being paid immediately, and accordingly received £ . any other person with the degree of reputation he then possessed would have got £ for that work, but he never understood the art of making the most of his productions.' prior's _malone_, p. . some of the other circumstances there related by baretti are not correct. [ ] hawkesworth received £ for his revision of cook's _voyages_; _post_, may , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] _ecclesiastes_, i. . [ ] see _post_, may , . it should seem that _candide_ was published in the latter half of february . grimm in his letter of march , speaks of its having just appeared. 'm. de voltaire vient de nous égayer par un petit roman.' he does not mention it in his previous letter of feb. . _grimm, carres. lit_. (edit. ), ii. . johnson's letter to miss porter, quoted in the appendix, shows that rasselas was written before march ; how much earlier cannot be known. _candide_ is in the may list of books in the _gent. mag_. (pp. - ), price _s_. _d_., and with it two translations, each price _s_. _d_. [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] in the original,--'which, perhaps, prevails.' _rasselas_, ch. xxxi. [ ] this is the second time that boswell puts 'morbid melancholy' in quotation marks (ante, p. ). perhaps he refers to a passage in hawkins's _johnson_ (p. ), where the author speaks of johnson's melancholy as 'this morbid affection, as he was used to call it.' [ ] 'perfect through sufferings.' _hebrews_, ii. . [ ] perhaps the reference is to the conclusion of _le monde comme il va_:--'il résolut ... de laisser aller _le monde comme il va_; car, dit il, _si tout riest pas bien, tout est passable_.' [ ] gray, _on a distant prospect of eton college_. [ ] johnson writing to mrs. thrale said:--'_vivite lacti_ is one of the great rules of health.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'it was the motto of a bishop very eminent for his piety and good works in king charles the second's reign, _inservi deo et laetare_--"serve god and be cheerful."' addison's _freeholder_, no. . [ ] literary and moral character of dr. johnson. boswell. [ ] this paper was in such high estimation before it was collected into volumes, that it was seized on with avidity by various publishers of news-papers and magazines, to enrich their publications. johnson, to put a stop to this unfair proceeding, wrote for the _universal chronicle_ the following advertisement; in which there is, perhaps, more pomp of words than the occasion demanded: 'london, january , . advertisement. the proprietors of the paper intitled _the idler_, having found that those essays are inserted in the news-papers and magazines with so little regard to justice or decency, that the _universal chronicle_, in which they first appear, is not always mentioned, think it necessary to declare to the publishers of those collections, that however patiently they have hitherto endured these injuries, made yet more injurious by contempt, they have now determined to endure them no longer. they have already seen essays, for which a very large price is paid, transferred, with the most shameless rapacity, into the weekly or monthly compilations, and their right, at least for the present, alienated from them, before they could themselves be said to enjoy it. but they would not willingly be thought to want tenderness, even for men by whom no tenderness hath been shewn. the past is without remedy, and shall be without resentment. but those who have been thus busy with their sickles in the fields of their neighbours, are henceforward to take notice, that the time of impunity is at an end. whoever shall, without our leave, lay the hand of rapine upon our papers, is to expect that we shall vindicate our due, by the means which justice prescribes, and which are warranted by the immemorial prescriptions of honourable trade. we shall lay hold, in our turn, on their copies, degrade them from the pomp of wide margin and diffuse typography, contract them into a narrow space, and sell them at an humble price; yet not with a view of growing rich by confiscations, for we think not much better of money got by punishment than by crimes. we shall, therefore, when our losses are repaid, give what profit shall remain to the _magdalens_; for we know not who can be more properly taxed for the support of penitent prostitutes, than prostitutes in whom there yet appears neither penitence nor shame.' boswell. [ ] i think that this letter belongs to a later date, probably to or . as we learn, _post_, april , , simpson was a barrister 'who fell into a dissipated course of life.' on july , , johnson records that he repaid him ten guineas which he had borrowed in the lifetime of mrs. johnson (his wife). he also lent him ten guineas more. if it was in that simpson was troubled by small debts, it is most unlikely that johnson let six years more pass without repaying him a loan which even then was at least of seven years' standing. moreover, in this letter johnson writes:--'i have been invited, or have invited myself, to several parts of the kingdom.' the only visits, it seems, that he paid between - were to oxford in and to lichfield in the winter of - . after , when his pension gave him means, he travelled frequently. besides all this, he says of his step-daughter:-- 'i will not incommode my dear lucy by coming to lichfield, while her present lodging is of any use to her.' miss porter seems to have lived in his house till she had built one for herself. though his letter to her of jan. , (croker's _boswell_, p. ), shews that it was then building, yet she had not left his house on jan. , (_ib_. p. ). 'to joseph simpson, esq. 'dear sir, 'your father's inexorability not only grieves but amazes me[ ]: he is your father; he was always accounted a wise man; nor do i remember any thing to the disadvantage of his good-nature; but in his refusal to assist you there is neither good-nature, fatherhood, nor wisdom. it is the practice of good-nature to overlook faults which have already, by the consequences, punished the delinquent. it is natural for a father to think more favourably than others of his children; and it is always wise to give assistance while a little help will prevent the necessity of greater. [ ] in the _rambler_, no. , entitled 'the cruelty of parental tyranny,' johnson, after noticing the oppression inflicted by the perversion of legal authority, says:--'equally dangerous and equally detestable are the cruelties often exercised in private families, under the venerable sanction of parental authority.' he continues:--'even though no consideration should be paid to the great law of social beings, by which every individual is commanded to consult the happiness of others, yet the harsh parent is less to be vindicated than any other criminal, because he less provides for the happiness of himself.' see also _post_, march , . a passage in one of boswell's _letters to temple_ (p. ) may also be quoted here:--'the time was when such a letter from my father as the one i enclose would have depressed; but i am now firm, and, as my revered friend, mr. samuel johnson, used to say, _i feel the privileges of an independent human being_; however, it is hard that i cannot have the pious satisfaction of being well with my father.' [ ] perhaps 'van,' for vansittart. [ ] lord stowell informs me that johnson prided himself in being, during his visits to oxford, accurately academic in all points: and he wore his gown almost _ostentatiously_. croker. [ ] dr. robert vansittart, of the ancient and respectable family of that name in berkshire. he was eminent for learning and worth, and much esteemed by dr. johnson. boswell. johnson perhaps proposed climbing over the wall on the day on which 'university college witnessed him drink three bottles of port without being the worse for it.' _post_, april , . [ ] _gentleman's magazine_, april, . boswell. the speech was made on july , , the last day of 'the solemnity of the installment' of the earl of westmoreland as chancellor of the university. on the rd 'the ceremony began with a grand procession of noblemen, doctors, &c., in their proper habits, which passed through st. mary's, and was there joined by the masters of arts in their proper habits; and from thence proceeded to the great gate of the sheldonian theatre, in which the most numerous and brilliant assembly of persons of quality and distinction was seated, that had ever been seen there on any occasion.' _gent. mag_. xxix. . would that we had some description of johnson, as, in his new and handsome gown, he joined the procession among the masters! see _ante_, p. . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, d edit. p. [aug. ]. boswell. the chance of death from disease would seem also to have been greater on the ship than in a jail. in _the idler_ (no. ) johnson estimates that one in four of the prisoners dies every year. in his review of hanway's _essay on tea_ (_works_, vi. ) he states that he is told that 'of the five or six hundred seamen sent to china, sometimes half, commonly a third part, perish in the voyage.' see _post_, april , . [ ] _ibid_. p. [sept. ]. boswell. [ ] in my first edition this word was printed _chum_, as it appears, in one of mr. wilkes's _miscellanies_, and i animadverted on dr. smollet's ignorance; for which let me propitiate the _manes_ of that ingenious and benevolent gentleman. chum was certainly a mistaken reading for _cham_, the title of the sovereign of tartary, which is well applied to johnson, the monarch of literature; and was an epithet familiar to smollet. see _roderick random_, chap. . for this correction i am indebted to lord palmerston, whose talents and literary acquirements accord well with his respectable pedigree of temple boswell. after the publication of the second edition of this work, the author was furnished by mr. abercrombie, of philadelphia, with the copy of a letter written by dr. john armstrong, the poet, to dr. smollet at leghorne, containing the following paragraph:--'as to the k. bench patriot, it is hard to say from what motive he published a letter of yours asking some triffling favour of him in behalf of somebody, for whom the great cham of literature, mr. johnson, had interested himself.' malone. in the first edition boswell had said:--'had dr. smollet been bred at an english university, he would have know that a _chum_ is a student who lives with another in a chamber common to them both. a _chum of literature_ is nonsense.' [ ] in a note to that piece of bad book-making, almon's _memoirs of wilkes_ (i. ), this allusion is thus explained:-'a pleasantry of mr. wilkes on that passage in johnson's _grammar of the english tongue_, prefixed to the dictionary--"_h_ seldom, perhaps never, begins any but the first syllable."' for this 'pleasantry' see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. croker says that he was not discharged till june . had he been discharged at once he would have found johnson moving from gough square to staple inn; for in a letter to miss porter, dated march , , given in the appendix, johnson said:-'i have this day moved my things, and you are now to direct to me at staple inn.' [ ] _prayers and meditations _, pp. [ ] and . boswell. [ ] 'i have left off housekeeping' wrote johnson to langton on jan. , . murphy (_life_, p. ), writing of the beginning of the year , says:--'johnson now found it necessary to retrench his expenses. he gave up his house in gough square. mrs. williams went into lodgings [see _post_, july , ]. he retired to gray's-inn, [he had first moved to staple inn], and soon removed to chambers in the inner temple-lane, where he lived in poverty, total idleness, and the pride of literature, _magni stat nominis umbra_. mr. fitzherbert used to say that he paid a morning visit to johnson, intending from his chambers to send a letter into the city; but, to his great surprise, he found an authour by profession without pen, ink, or paper.' (it was mr. fitzherbert, who sent johnson some wine. see _ante_, p. , note . see also _post_, sept. , ). the following documents confirm murphy's statement of johnson's poverty at this time: 'may , . 'i promise to pay to mr. newbery the sum of forty-two pounds, nineteen shillings, and ten pence on demand, value received. £ . 'sam. johnson.' 'march , . 'i promise to pay to mr. newbery the sum of thirty pounds upon demand., £ . 'sam. johnson.' in he had thrice borrowed money of newbery, but the total amount of the loans was only four guineas. prior's _goldsmith_, i. . with johnson's want of pen, ink, and paper we may compare the account that he gives of savage's destitution (_works_, viii. ):--'nor had he any other conveniences for study than the fields or the streets allowed him; there he used to walk and form his speeches, and afterwards step into a shop, beg for a few moments the use of the pen and ink, and write down what he had composed upon paper which he had picked up by accident.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that johnson's chambers were two doors down the inner temple lane. 'i have been told,' he continues, 'by his neighbour at the corner, that during the time he dwelt there, more inquiries were made at his shop for mr. johnson, than for all the inhabitants put together of both the inner and middle temple.' in a court opening out of fleet street, goldsmith at this very time was still more miserably lodged. in the beginning of march , percy found him 'employed in writing his _enquiry into polite learning_ in a wretched dirty room, in which there was but one chair, and when he from civility offered it to his visitant, himself was obliged to sit in the window.' _goldsmith's misc. works_, i. . [ ] sir john hawkins (life, p. ) has given a long detail of it, in that manner vulgarly, but significantly, called rigmarole; in which, amidst an ostentatious exhibition of arts and artists, he talks of 'proportions of a column being taken from that of the human figure, and _adjusted by nature_--masculine and feminine--in a man, sesquioctave of the head, and in a woman _sesquinonal_;' nor has he failed to introduce a jargon of musical terms, which do not seem much to correspond with the subject, but serve to make up the heterogeneous mass. to follow the knight through all this, would be an useless fatigue to myself, and not a little disgusting to my readers. i shall, therefore, only make a few remarks upon his statement.--he seems to exult in having detected johnson in procuring 'from a person eminently skilled in mathematicks and the principles of architecture, answers to a string of questions drawn up by himself, touching the comparative strength of semicircular and elliptical arches.' now i cannot conceive how johnson could have acted more wisely. sir john complains that the opinion of that excellent mathematician, mr. thomas simpson, did not preponderate in favour of the semicircular arch. but he should have known, that however eminent mr. simpson was in the higher parts of abstract mathematical science, he was little versed in mixed and practical mechanicks. mr. muller, of woolwich academy, the scholastick father of all the great engineers which this country has employed for forty years, decided the question by declaring clearly in favour of the elliptical arch. it is ungraciously suggested, that johnson's motive for opposing mr. mylne's scheme may have been his prejudice against him as a native of north britain; when, in truth, as has been stated, he gave the aid of his able pen to a friend, who was one of the candidates; and so far was he from having any illiberal antipathy to mr. mylne, that he afterwards lived with that gentleman upon very agreeable terms of acquaintance, and dined with him at his house. sir john hawkins, indeed, gives full vent to his own prejudice in abusing blackfriars bridge, calling it 'an edifice, in which beauty and symmetry are in vain sought for; by which the citizens of london have perpetuated study their own disgrace, and subjected a whole nation to the reproach of foreigners.' whoever has contemplated, _placido lumine_ [horace, _odes_, iv. , ], this stately, elegant, and airy structure, which has so fine an effect, especially on approaching the capital on that quarter, must wonder at such unjust and ill-tempered censure; and i appeal to all foreigners of good taste, whether this bridge be not one of the most distinguished ornaments of london. as to the stability of the fabrick, it is certain that the city of london took every precaution to have the best portland stone for it; but as this is to be found in the quarries belonging to the publick, under the direction of the lords of the treasury, it so happened that parliamentary interest, which is often the bane of fair pursuits, thwarted their endeavours. notwithstanding this disadvantage, it is well known that not only has blackfriars-bridge never sunk either in its foundation or in its arches, which were so much the subject of contest, but any injuries which it has suffered from the effects of severe frosts have been already, in some measure, repaired with sounder stone, and every necessary renewal can be completed at a moderate expence. boswell. horace walpole mentions an ineffectual application made by the city to parliament in 'for more money for their new bridge at blackfriars,' when dr. hay, one of the lords of the admiralty, 'abused the common council, whose late behaviour, he said, entitled them to no favour.' walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . the late behaviour was the part taken by the city in wilkes's case. it was the same love of liberty no doubt that lost the city the portland stone. smollett goes out of the way to praise his brother-scot, mr. mylne, in _humphry clinker_--'a party novel written,' says horace walpole, 'to vindicate the scots' (_reign of george iii_, iv. ). in the letter dated may , he makes mr. bramble say:--'the bridge at blackfriars is a noble monument of taste and public spirit--i wonder how they stumbled upon a work of such magnificence and utility.' [ ] juvenal, _sat_. i. . [ ] 'born and educated in this country, i glory in the name of briton.'--george iii's first speech to his parliament. it appears from the _hardwicke papers_, writes the editor of the _parl. hist. (xv. ), that after the draft of the speech had been settled by the cabinet, these words and those that came next were added by the king's own hand. wilkes in his _dedication of mortimer_ (see _post_, may , ) asserted that 'these endearing words, "born,&c.," were permitted to be seen in the royal orthography of britain for briton,' almon's _works_, i. . [ ] in this _introduction_ (_works_, vi. ) johnson answers objections that had been raised against the relief. 'we know that for the prisoners of war there is no legal provision; we see their distress and are certain of its cause; we know that they are poor and naked, and poor and naked without a crime.... the opponents of this charity must allow it to be good, and will not easily prove it not to be the best. that charity is best of which the consequences are most extensive; the relief of enemies has a tendency to unite mankind in fraternal affection.' the committee for which johnson's paper was written began its work in dec. . in the previous month of october wesley records in his _journal (ii. ):--'i walked up to knowle, a mile from bristol, to see the french prisoners. above eleven hundred of them, we were informed, were confined in that little place, without anything to lie on but a little dirty straw, or anything to cover them but a few foul thin rags, either by day or by night, so that they died like rotten sheep. i was much affected, and preached in the evening on _exodus_ xxiii. .' money was at once contributed, and clothing bought. 'it was not long before contributions were set on foot in various parts of the kingdom.' on oct. of the following year, he records:--'i visited the french prisoners at knowle, and found many of them almost naked again.' _ib_. iii. . 'the prisoners,' wrote hume (_private corres_. p. ), 'received food from the public, but it was thought that their own friends would supply them with clothes, which, however, was found after some time to be neglected.' the cry arose that the brave and gallant men, though enemies, were perishing with cold in prison; a subscription was set on foot; great sums were given by all ranks of people; and, notwithstanding the national foolish prejudices against the french, a remarkable zeal everywhere appeared for this charity. i am afraid that m. rousseau could not have produced many parallel instances among his heroes, the greeks; and still fewer among the romans. baretti, in his _journey from london to genoa_ (i. , ), after telling how on all foreigners, even on a turk wearing a turban, 'the pretty appellation of _french dog_ was liberally bestowed by the london rabble,' continues:--'i have seen the populace of england contribute as many shillings as they could spare towards the maintenance of the french prisoners; and i have heard a universal shout of joy when their parliament voted £ , to the portuguese on hearing of the tremendous earthquake.' [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , where johnson describes mary as 'such a queen as every man of any gallantry of spirit would have sacrificed his life for.' 'there are,' wrote hume, 'three events in our history which may be regarded as touchstones of party-men. an english whig who asserts the reality of the popish plot, an irish catholic who denies the massacre in , and a scotch jacobite who maintains the innocence of queen mary, must be considered as men beyond the reach of argument or reason, and must be left to their prejudices.' _history of england_, ed. , v. . [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell. the following is his entry on this day:-- ' , sept. . resolved d[eo]j[uvante]' to combat notions of obligation. to apply to study. to reclaim imagination. to consult the resolves on tetty's coffin. to rise early. to study religion. to go to church. to drink less strong liquors. to keep a journal. to oppose laziness, by doing what is to be done tomorrow. rise as early as i can. send for books for hist. of war. put books in order. scheme of life.' [ ] see _post_, oct. , , and may , , for johnson's measure of emotion, by eating. [ ] mr. croker points out that murphy's _epistle_ was an imitation of boileau's _epître à molière_. [ ] the paper mentioned in the text is no. of the second series of the _grays inn journal_, published on june , ; which is a translation from the french version of johnson's _rambler_, no. . malone. mrs. piozzi relates how murphy, used to tell before johnson of the first time they met. he found our friend all covered with soot, like a chimney-sweeper, in a little room, with an intolerable heat and strange smell, as if he had been acting lungs in the _alchymist_, making aether. 'come, come,' says dr. johnson, 'dear murphy, the story is black enough now; and it was a very happy day for me that brought you first to my house, and a very happy mistake about the ramblers.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . murphy quotes her account, murphy's _johnson_, p. . see also _post_, , where dr. maxwell records in his _collectanea_ how johnson 'very much loved arthur murphy.' miss burney thus describes him:--'he is tall and well-made, has a very gentlemanlike appearance, and a quietness of manner upon his first address that to me is very pleasing. his face looks sensible, and his deportment is perfectly easy and polite.' a few days later she records:--'mr. murphy was the life of the party; he was in good spirits, and extremely entertaining; he told a million of stories admirably well.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. , . rogers, who knew murphy well, says that 'towards the close of his life, till he received a pension of £ from the king, he was in great pecuniary difficulties. he had eaten himself out of every tavern from the other side of temple-bar to the west end of the town.' he owed rogers a large sum of money, which he never repaid. 'he assigned over to me the whole of his works; and i soon found that he had already disposed of them to a bookseller. one thing,' rogers continues, 'ought to be remembered to his honour; an actress with whom he had lived bequeathed to him all her property, but he gave up every farthing of it to her relations.' he was pensioned in , and he died in . rogers's _table-talk_, p. . [ ] topham beauclerk, esq. boswell. [ ] essays with that title, written about this time by mr. langton, but not published. boswell. [ ] thomas sheridan, born , died . he was the son of swift's friend, and the father of r. b. sheridan (who was born in ), and the great-great-grandfather of the present earl of dufferin. [ ] sheridan was acting in garrick's company, generally on the nights on which garrick did not appear. davies's _garrick_, i. . johnson criticises his reading, _post_, april , . [ ] mrs. sheridan was authour of _memoirs of miss sydney biddulph_, a novel of great merit, and of some other pieces.--see her character, _post_, beginning of . boswell. [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell. ' . easter eve. since the communion of last easter i have led a life so dissipated and useless, and my terrours and perplexities have so much increased, that i am under great depression and discouragement.' [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] i have had inquiry made in ireland as to this story, but do not find it recollected there. i give it on the authority of dr. johnson, to which may be added that of the _biographical dictionary_, and _biographia dramatica_; in both of which it has stood many years. mr. malone observes, that the truth probably is, not that an edition was published with rolt's name in the title-page, but, that the poem being then anonymous, rolt acquiesced in its being attributed to him in conversation. boswell. [ ] i have both the books. innes was the clergyman who brought psalmanazar to england, and was an accomplice in his extraordinary fiction. boswell. it was in that innes, who was a doctor of divinity and preacher-assistant at st. margaret's westminster, published this book. in his impudent dedication to lord chancellor king he says that 'were matters once brought to the melancholy pass that mankind should become proselytes to such impious delusions' as mandeville taught, 'punishments must be annexed to virtue and rewards to vice.' it was not till that dr. campbell 'laid open this imposture.' preface, p. xxxi. though he was professor of ecclesiastical history in st. andrews, yet he had not, it should seem, heard of the fraud till then: so remote was scotland from london in those days. it was not till that he published his own edition. for psalmanazar, see _post_, april , . [ ] 'died, the rev. mr. eccles, at bath. in attempting to save a boy, whom he saw sinking in the avon, he, together with the youth, were both drowned.' _gent. mag_. aug. , . and in the magazine for the next month are some verses on this event, with an epitaph, of which the first line is, 'beneath this stone the "_man of feeling_" lies.' croker. [ ] 'harry mackenzie,' wrote scott in , 'never put his name in a title page till the last edition of his works.' lockhart's _scott_, iv. . he wrote also _the man of the world_, which johnson 'looked at, but thought there was nothing in it.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . scott, however, called it 'a very pathetic tale.' croker's _boswell, p. . burns, writing of his twenty-third year, says: '_tristram shandy_ and the _man of feeling_ were my bosom favourites.' currie's _life of burns_, ed. . p. . [ ] from the prologue to dryden's adaptation of _the tempest_. [ ] the originals of dr. johnson's three letters to mr. baretti, which are among the very best he ever wrote, were communicated to the elegant monthly miscellany, _the european magazine_, in which they first appeared. boswell. [ ] baretti left london for lisbon on aug. , . he went through portugal, spain, and france to antibes, whence he went by sea to genoa, where he arrived on nov. . in he published a lively account of his travels under the title of _a journey from london to genoa_. [ ] malone says of baretti that 'he was certainly a man of extraordinary talents, and perhaps no one ever made himself so completely master of a foreign language as he did of english.' prior's _malone_, p. . mrs. piozzi gives the following 'instance of his skill in our low street language. walking in a field near chelsea he met a fellow, who, suspecting him from dress and manner to be a foreigner, said sneeringly, "come, sir, will you show me the way to france?" "no, sir," says baretti instantly, "but i will show you the way to tyburn."' he travelled with her in france. 'oh how he would court the maids at the inns abroad, abuse the men perhaps, and that with a facility not to be exceeded, as they all confessed, by any of the natives. but so he could in spain, i find.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] johnson was intimate with lord southwell, _ante_, p. . it seems unlikely that baretti merely conducted mr. southwell from turin to venice; yet there is not a line in his _journey_ to show that any englishman accompanied him from london to turin. [ ] see _ante_, p. , note. [ ] the first of these annual exhibitions was opened on april , , at the room of the society of arts, in the strand. 'as a consequence of their success, grew the incorporation of a society of artists in , by seccession from which finally was constituted the royal academy [in dec. ].' taylor's _reynolds_, i. . for the third exhibition johnson wrote the preface to the catalogue. in this, speaking for the committee of the artists he says:--'the purpose of this exhibition is not to enrich the artist, but to advance the art; the eminent are not flattered with preference, nor the obscure insulted with contempt; whoever hopes to deserve public favour is here invited to display his merit.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that johnson told him 'that in his whole life he was never capable of discerning the least resemblance of any kind between a picture and the subject it was intended to represent.' this, however must have been an exaggeration on the part either of hawkins or johnson. his general ignorance of art is shown by mrs. piozzi (_anec_., p. ):--'sir joshua reynolds mentioned some picture as excellent. "it has often grieved me, sir," said mr. johnson, "to see so much mind as the science of painting requires, laid out upon such perishable materials: why do not you oftener make use of copper? i could wish your superiority in the art you profess to be preserved in stuff more durable than canvas." sir joshua urged the difficulty of procuring a plate large enough for historical subjects. "what foppish obstacles are these!" exclaims on a sudden dr. johnson. "here is thrale has a thousand tun of copper; you may paint it all round if you will, i suppose; it will serve him to brew in afterwards. will it not, sir?" to my husband who sat by. indeed his utter scorn of painting was such, that i have heard him say, that he should sit very quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them, if their backs were outermost, unless it might be for the sake of telling sir joshua that he _had_ turned them.' such a remark of johnson's must not, however, be taken too strictly. he often spoke at random, often with exaggeration. 'there is in many minds a kind of vanity exerted to the disadvantage of themselves.' this reflection of his is the opening sentence to the number of the idler (no. ) in which he thus writes about portrait-painting:--'genius is chiefly exerted in historical pictures; and the art of the painter of portraits is often lost in the obscurity of his subject. but it is in painting as in life; what is greatest is not always best. i should grieve to see reynolds transfer to heroes and to goddesses, to empty splendour and to airy fiction, that art which is now employed in diffusing friendship, in reviving tenderness, in quickening the affections of the absent, and continuing the presence of the dead.' it is recorded in johnson's _works_, ( ) xi. , that 'johnson, talking with some persons about allegorical painting said, "i had rather see the portrait of a dog that i know than all the allegorical paintings they can show me in the world."' he bought prints of burke, dyer, and goldsmith--'good impressions' he said to hang in a little room that he was fitting up with prints. croker's _boswell_, p. . among his effects that were sold after his death were 'sixty-one portraits framed and glazed,' _post_, under dec. , . when he was at paris, and saw the picture-gallery at the palais royal, he entered in his diary:--'i thought the pictures of raphael fine;' _post_, oct. , . the philosopher hume was more insensible even than johnson. dr. j.h. burton says:--'it does not appear from any incident in his life, or allusions in his letters, which i can remember, that he had ever really admired a picture or a statue.' _life of me_, ii. . [ ] by colman--'there is nothing else new,' wrote horace walpole on march , (_letters,_ in. ), 'but a very indifferent play, called _the jealous wife_, so well acted as to have succeeded greatly.' [ ] in chap. of _rasselas_ johnson had lately considered monastic life. imlac says of the monks:--'their time is regularly distributed; one duty succeeds another, so that they are not left open to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the shades of listless inactivity.... he that lives well in the world is better than he that lives well in a monastery. but perhaps every one is not able to stem the temptations of publick life; and, if he cannot conquer, he may properly retreat.' see also _post_, march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] baretti, in the preface to his _journey_ (p. vi.), says that the method of the book was due to dr. johnson. 'it was he that exhorted me to write daily, and with all possible minuteness; it was he that pointed out the topics which would most interest and most delight in a future publication.' [ ] he advised boswell to go to spain. _post_, june and july , . [ ] dr. percy records that 'the first visit goldsmith ever received from johnson was on may , , [ten days before this letter was written] when he gave an invitation to him, and much other company, many of them literary men, to a supper in his lodgings in wine office court, fleet street. percy being intimate with johnson, was desired to call upon him and take him with him. as they went together the former was much struck with the studied neatness of johnson's dress. he had on a new suit of clothes, a new wig nicely powdered, and everything about him so perfectly dissimilar from his usual appearance that his companion could not help inquiring the cause of this singular transformation. "why, sir," said johnson, "i hear that goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice, and i am desirous this night to show him a better example."' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] _judges_, v. . [ ] _psalms_, xix. . [ ] _psalms_, civ. . [ ] boswell is ten years out in his date. this work was published in . the review of it in the _gent. mag_. for that year, p. , was, i believe, by johnson. [ ] he accompanied lord macartney on his embassy to china in . in he published his _account of the embassy_. [ ] it was taken in , and restored to france in . _penny cyclo_. xi. . [ ] w. s. landor (_works_, ed. , v. ) says:--'extraordinary as were johnson's intellectual powers, he knew about as much of poetry as of geography. in one of his letters he talks of guadaloupe as being in another hemisphere. speaking of that island, his very words are these: "whether you return hither or stay in another hemisphere."' guadaloupe, being in the west indies, is in another hemisphere. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] 'it is necessary to hope, though hope should always be deluded; for hope itself is happiness, and its frustrations, however frequent, are less dreadful than its extinction.' _the idler_, no. . see also _post_, under march , , where he ranks the situation of the prince of wales as the happiest in the kingdom, partly on account of the enjoyment of hope. [ ] though johnson wrote this same day to lord bute to thank him for his pension, he makes no mention to baretti of this accession to his fortune. [ ] see _ante_, p. . mrs. porter, the actress, lived some time with mrs. cotterel and her eldest daughter. croker. [ ] miss charlotte cotterel, married to dean lewis. see _post_, dec. , . [ ] reynolds's note-book shows that this year he had close on sitters. taylor's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] he married a woman of the town, who had persuaded him (notwithstanding their place of congress was a small coalshed in fetter lane) that she was nearly related to a man of fortune, but was injuriously kept by him out of large possessions. she regarded him as a physician already in considerable practice. he had not been married four months, before a writ was taken out against him for debts incurred by his wife. he was secreted; and his friend then procured him a protection from a foreign minister. in a short time afterwards she ran away from him, and was tried (providentially in his opinion) for picking pockets at the old bailey. her husband was with difficulty prevented from attending the court, in the hope she would be hanged. she pleaded her own cause and was acquitted. a separation between them took place.' _gent. mag_. lv. . [ ] richardson had died more than a year earlier,--on july , . that johnson should think it needful at the date of his letter to inform baretti of the death of so famous a writer shows how slight was the communication between london and milan. nay, he repeats the news in his letter of dec. , . [ ] on dec. , , he wrote to hector:--'a few years ago i just saluted birmingham, but had no time to see any friend, for i came in after midnight with a friend, and went away in the morning.' _notes and queries_, th s. iii. . he passed through birmingham, i conjecture, on his visit to lichfield. [ ] writing to mrs. thrale from lichfield on july , , he says:--'miss lucy [porter, his step-daughter, not his daughter-in-law, as he calls her above] is more kind and civil than i expected, and has raised my esteem by many excellencies very noble and resplendent, though a little discoloured by hoary virginity. everything else recalls to my remembrance years, in which i proposed what i am afraid i have not done, and promised myself pleasure which i have not found.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] in his _journey into wales_ (aug. , ), he describes how mrs. thrale visited one of the scenes of her youth. 'she remembered the rooms, and wandered over them with recollection of her childhood. this species of pleasure is always melancholy. the walk was cut down and the pond was dry. nothing was better.' [ ] this is a very just account of the relief which london affords to melancholy minds. boswell. [ ] to devonshire. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] dr. t. campbell (_diary of a visit to england_, p. ) recorded on march , , that 'baretti said that now he could not live out of london. he had returned a few years ago to his own country, but he could not enjoy it; and he was obliged to return to london to those connections he had been making for near thirty years past.' baretti had come to england in (_ante_, p. ), so that thirty years is an exaggeration. [ ] how great a sum this must have been in johnson's eyes is shown by a passage in his _life of savage_ (_works_, viii. ). savage, he says, was received into lord tyrconnel's family and allowed a pension of £ a year. 'his presence,' johnson writes, 'was sufficient to make any place of publick entertainment popular; and his approbation and example constituted the fashion. so powerful is genius when it is invested with the glitter of affluence!' in the last summer of his life, speaking of the chance of his pension being doubled, he said that with six hundred a year 'a man would have the consciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life _in splendour_, how long soever it might be.' _post_, june , . david hume writing in , says:--'i have £ a year, a £ worth of books, great store of linens and fine clothes, and near £ in my pocket; along with order, frugality, a strong spirit of independency, good health, a contented humour, and an unabating love of study. in these circumstances i must esteem myself one of the happy and fortunate.' j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_ (chap, vii), makes the following observation on pensions granted in france to authors:--'the french nobility have certainly a most pleasing way of satisfying the vanity of an author without indulging his avarice. a man of literary merit is sure of being caressed by the great, though seldom enriched. his pension from the crown just supplies half a competence, and the sale of his labours makes some small addition to his circumstances; thus the author leads a life of splendid poverty, and seldom becomes wealthy or indolent enough to discontinue an exertion of those abilities by which he rose.' whether johnson's pension led to his writing less than he would otherwise have done may be questioned. it is true that in the next seventeen years he did little more than finish his edition of _shakespeare_, and write his _journey to the western islands_ and two or three political pamphlets. but since he wrote the last number of _the idler_ in the spring of he had done very little. his mind, which, to use murphy's words (_life_, p. ), had been 'strained and overlaboured by constant exertion,' had not recovered its tone. it is likely, that without the pension he would not have lived to write the second greatest of his works--the _lives of the poets_. [ ] mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, i. ) says:--'bute's pensions to his scottish crew showing meaner than ever in churchill's daring verse, it occurred to the shrewd and wary wedderburne to advise, for a set off, that samuel johnson should be pensioned.' _the prophecy of famine_ in which churchill's attack was made on the pensioned scots was published in jan. , nearly half a year after johnson's pension was conferred. [ ] for his _falkland's islands_ 'materials were furnished to him by the ministry' (_post_, ). '_the patriot_ was called for,' he writes, 'by my political friends' (_post_, nov. , ). 'that _taxation no tyranny_ was written at the desire of those who were then in power, i have no doubt,' writes boswell (_post_, under march , ). 'johnson complained to a friend that, his pension having been given to him as a literary character, he had been applied to by administration to write political pamphlets' (_ib_.). are these statements inconsistent with what lord loughborough said, and with boswell's assertion (_ib_.) that 'johnson neither asked nor received from government any reward whatsoever for his political labours?' i think not. i think that, had johnson unpensioned been asked by the ministry to write these pamphlets, he would have written them. he would have been pleased by the compliment, and for pay would have trusted to the sale. speaking of the first two of these pamphlets--the third had not yet appeared--he said, 'except what i had from the booksellers, i did not get a farthing by them' (_post_, march , ). they had not cost him much labour. _the false alarm_ was written between eight o'clock of one night and twelve o'clock of the next. it went through three editions in less than two months (_post_, ). _the patriot_ was written on a saturday (_post_, nov. , ). at all events johnson had received his pension for more than seven years before he did any work for the ministry. in croft's _life of young_, which johnson adopted (_works_, viii. ), the following passage was perhaps intended to be a defence of johnson as a writer for the ministry:--'yet who shall say with certainty that young was a pensioner? in all modern periods of this country, have not the writers on one side been regularly called hirelings, and on the other patriots?' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] murphy's account is nearly as follows (_life_, p. ):--'lord loughborough was well acquainted with johnson; but having heard much of his independent spirit, and of the downfall of osborne the bookseller (_ante_, p. ), he did not know but his benevolence might be rewarded with a folio on his head. he desired me to undertake the task. i went to the chambers in the inner temple lane, which, in fact, were the abode of wretchedness. by slow and studied approaches the message was disclosed. johnson made a long pause; he asked if it was seriously intended. he fell into a profound meditation, and his own definition of a pensioner occurred to him. he desired to meet next day, and dine at the mitre tavern. at that meeting he gave up all his scruples. on the following day lord loughborough conducted him to the earl of bute. the conversation that passed was in the evening related to me by dr. johnson. he expressed his sense of his majesty's bounty, and thought himself the more highly honoured, as the favour was not bestowed on him for having dipped his pen in faction. "no, sir," said lord bute, "it is not offered to you for having dipped your pen in faction, nor with a design that you ever should."' the reviewer of hawkins's _johnson_ in the _monthly review_, lxxvi. , who was, no doubt, murphy, adds a little circumstance:--'on the next day mr. murphy was in the temple lane soon after nine; _he got johnson up and dressed in due time_; and saw him set off at eleven.' malone's note on what lord bute said to johnson is as follows:--'this was said by lord bute, as dr. burney was informed by johnson himself, in answer to a question which he put, previously to his acceptance of the intended bounty: "pray, my lord, what am i expected to do for this pension?"' [ ] 'in britain's senate he a seat obtains and one more pensioner st. stephen gains.' _moral essays_, iii. . johnson left the definition of _pension_ and _pensioner_ unchanged in the fourth edition of the _dictionary_, corrected by him in . [ ] he died on march , . this paragraph and the letter are not in the first two editions. [ ] the treasury, home office, exchequer of receipt and audit office records have been searched for a warrant granting a pension to dr. johnson without success. in , by act of parliament all pensions on the civil list establishment were from that time to be paid at the exchequer. in the exchequer order book, michaelmas , no. , p. , the following memorandum occurs:--"memdum. dec. . there was issued to the following persons (by order th of nov. ) the sums set against their names respectively, etc.:--persons names: johnson saml, ll.d. pensions p. ann. £ . due to july , two quarters, £ ." this pension was paid at the exchequer from that time to the quarter ending oct. . 'it is clear that the pension was payable quarterly [for confirmation of this, see _post_, nov. , , and july , ] and at the old quarter days, july , oct. , jan. , april , though payment was sometimes delayed. [once he was paid half-yearly; see _post_, under march , .] the expression "bills" was a general term at the time for notes, cheques, and warrants, and no doubt covered some kind of treasury warrant.' the above information i owe to the kindness of my friend mr. leonard h. courtney, m.p., late financial secretary to the treasury. the 'future favours' are the future payments. his pension was not for life, and depended therefore entirely on the king's pleasure (see _post_, under march , ). the following letter in the _grenville papers_, ii. , seems to show that johnson thought the pension due on the _new_ quarter-day:-- 'dr. johnson to mr. grenville. 'july , . 'sir, 'be pleased to pay to the bearer seventy-five pounds, being the quarterly payment of a pension granted by his majesty, and due on the th day of june last, to sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' [ ] they left london on aug. and returned to it on sept. . taylor's _reynolds_, i. . northcote records of this visit:--'i remember when mr. reynolds was pointed out to me at a public meeting, where a great crowd was assembled, i got as near to him as i could from the pressure of the people to touch the skirt of his coat, which i did with great satisfaction to my mind.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . in like manner reynolds, when a youth, had in a great crowd touched the hand of pope. _ib_, p. . pope, when a boy of eleven, 'persuaded some friends to take him to the coffee-house which dryden frequented.' johnson's _works_, viii. . who touched old northcote's hand? has the apostolic succession been continued?--since writing these lines i have read with pleasure the following passage in mr. ruskin's _praeterita_, chapter i. p. :--'when at three-and-a-half i was taken to have my portrait painted by mr. northcote, i had not been ten minutes alone with him before i asked him why there were holes in his carpet.' dryden, pope, reynolds, northcote, ruskin, so runs the chain of genius, with only one weak link in it. [ ] at one of these seats dr. amyat, physician in london, told me he happened to meet him. in order to amuse him till dinner should be ready, he was taken out to walk in the garden. the master of the house, thinking it proper to introduce something scientifick into the conversation, addressed him thus: 'are you a botanist, dr. johnson:' 'no, sir, (answered johnson,) i am not a botanist; and, (alluding no doubt, to his near sightedness) should i wish to become a botanist, i must first turn myself into a reptile.' boswell. [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. ) says:--'the roughness of the language used on board a man of war, where he passed a week on a visit to captain knight, disgusted him terribly. he asked an officer what some place was called, and received for answer that it was where the loplolly man kept his loplolly; a reply he considered as disrespectful, gross and ignorant.' mr. croker says that captain knight of the _belleisle_ lay for a couple of months in in plymouth sound. croker's _boswell_, p. . it seems unlikely that johnson passed a whole week on ship-board. _loplolly_, or _loblolly_, is explained in _roderick random_, chap. xxvii. roderick, when acting as the surgeon's assistant on a man of war, 'suffered,' he says, 'from the rude insults of the sailors and petty officers, among whom i was known by the name of _lobolly boy_.' [ ] he was the father of colonel william mudge, distinguished by his trigonometrical survey of england and wales. wright. [ ] 'i have myself heard reynolds declare, that the elder mr. mudge was, in his opinion, the wisest man he had ever met with in his life. he has always told me that he owed his first disposition to generalise, and to view things in the abstract, to him.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. , . [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . boswell. [ ] the present devonport. [ ] a friend of mine once heard him, during this visit, exclaim with the utmost vehemence 'i _hate_ a docker.' blakeway. northcote (life of reynolds, i. ) says that reynolds took johnson to dine at a house where 'he devoured so large a quantity of new honey and of clouted cream, besides drinking large potations of new cyder, that the entertainer found himself much embarrassed between his anxious regard for the doctor's health and his fear of breaking through the rules of politeness, by giving him a hint on the subject. the strength of johnson's constitution, however, saved him from any unpleasant consequences.' 'sir joshua informed a friend that he had never seen dr. johnson intoxicated by hard drinking but once, and that happened at the time that they were together in devonshire, when one night after supper johnson drank three bottles of wine, which affected his speech so much that he was unable to articulate a hard word, which occurred in the course of his conversation. he attempted it three times but failed; yet at last accomplished it, and then said, "well, sir joshua, i think it is now time to go to bed."' _ib_. ii. . one part of this story however is wanting in accuracy, and therefore all may be untrue. reynolds at this time was not knighted. johnson said (_post_, april , ): 'i did not leave off wine because i could not bear it; i have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it. university college has witnessed this.' see however _post_, april , , where he said:--'i used to slink home when i had drunk too much;' also _ante_, p. , and _post_, april , . [ ] george selwyn wrote:--'topham beauclerk is arrived. i hear he lost £ , to a thief at venice, which thief, in the course of the year, will be at cashiobury.' (the reference to this quotation i have mislaid.) [ ] two years later he repeated this thought in the lines that he added to goldsmith's _traveller_. _post_, under feb. . [ ] we may compare with this what 'old bentley' said:--'depend upon it, no man was ever written down but by himself.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] the preliminaries of peace between england and france had been signed on nov. of this year. _ann reg_. v. . [ ] of baretti's _travels through spain, &c_., johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'that baretti's book would please you all i made no doubt. i know not whether the world has ever seen such _travels_ before. those whose lot it is to ramble can seldom write, and those who know how to write very seldom ramble.' _piozzi_ letters, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] huggins had quarrelled with johnson and baretti (croker's _boswell_, , note). see also _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] cowper, writing in about collins, says:--'of whom i did not know that he existed till i found him there'--in the _lives of the poets_, that is to say. southey's _cowper_, v. ii. [ ] to this passage johnson, nearly twenty years later, added the following (_works_, viii. ):--'such was the fate of collins, with whom i once delighted to converse, and whom i yet remember with tenderness.' [ ] 'madam. to approach the high and the illustrious has been in all ages the privilege of poets; and though translators cannot justly claim the same honour, yet they naturally follow their authours as attendants; and i hope that in return for having enabled tasso to diffuse his fame through the british dominions, i may be introduced by him to the presence of your majesty. tasso has a peculiar claim to your majesty's favour, as follower and panegyrist of the house of _este_, which has one common ancestor with the house of hanover; and in reviewing his life it is not easy to forbear a wish that he had lived in a happier time, when he might, among the descendants of that illustrious family, have found a more liberal and potent patronage. i cannot but observe, madam, how unequally reward is proportioned to merit, when i reflect that the happiness which was withheld from tasso is reserved for me; and that the poem which once hardly procured to its authour the countenance of the princess of ferrara, has attracted to its translator the favourable notice of a british queen. had this been the fate of tasso, he would have been able to have celebrated the condescension of your majesty in nobler language, but could not have felt it with more ardent gratitude, than madam, your majesty's most faithful and devoted servant.'--boswell. [ ] young though boswell was, he had already tried his hand at more than one kind of writing. in he had published anonymously an _elegy on the death of an amiable young lady_, with an _epistle from menalcas to lycidas_. (edinburgh, donaldson.) the elegy is full of such errors as 'thou liv'd,' 'thou led,' but is recommended by a puffing preface and three letters--one of which is signed j--b. about the same time he brought out a piece that was even more impudent. it was _an ode to tragedy_. by a gentleman of scotland. (edinburgh, donaldson, . price sixpence.) in the 'dedication to james boswell, esq.,' he says:--'i have no intention to pay you compliments--to entertain agreeable notions of one's own character is a great incentive to act with propriety and spirit. but i should be sorry to contribute in any degree to your acquiring an excess of self-sufficiency ... i own indeed that when ... to display my extensive erudition, i have quoted greek, latin and french sentences one after another with astonishing celerity; or have got into my _old-hock humour_ and fallen a-raving about princes and lords, knights and geniuses, ladies of quality and harpsichords; you, with a peculiar comic smile, have gently reminded me of the _importance of a man to himself_, and slily left the room with the witty dean lying open at--p.p. _clerk of this parish_. [swift's _works_, ed. , xxiii. .] i, sir, who enjoy the pleasure of your intimate acquaintance, know that many of your hours of retirement are devoted to thought.' the _ode_ is serious. he describes himself as having 'a soul by nature formed to feel grief sharper than the tyrant's steel, and bosom big with swelling thought from ancient lore's remembrance brought.' in the winter of - he had helped as a contributor and part-editor in bringing out a _collection of original poems_. (_boswell and erskine's letters_, p. .) his next publication, also anonymous, was _the club at newmarket_, written, as the preface says, 'in the newmarket coffee room, in which the author, being elected a member of the jockey club, had the happiness of passing several sprightly good-humoured evenings.' it is very poor stuff. in the winter of - he joined in writing the _critical strictures_, mentioned _post_, june , . just about the time that he first met johnson he and his friend the hon. andrew erskine had published in their own names a very impudent little volume of the correspondence that had passed between them. of this i published an edition with notes in , together with boswell's _journal of a tour to corsica_. (messrs. thos. de la rue & co.). [ ] boswell, in , in the preface to the third edition of his _corsica_ described 'the warmth of affection and the dignity of veneration' with which he never ceased to think of mr. johnson. [ ] in the _garrick carres_, (ii. ) there is a confused letter from this unfortunate man, asking garrick for the loan of five guineas. he had a scheme for delivering dramatic lectures at eton and oxford; 'but,' he added, 'my externals have so unfavourable an appearance that i cannot produce myself with any comfort or hope of success.' garrick sent him five guineas. he had been a major in the army, an actor, and dramatic author. 'for the last seven years of his life he struggled under sickness and want to a degree of uncommon misery.' _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] as great men of antiquity such as scipio _africanus_ had an epithet added to their names, in consequence of some celebrated action, so my illustrious friend was often called _dictionary johnson_, from that wonderful atchievement of genius and labour, his _dictionary of the english language_; the merit of which i contemplate with more and more admiration. boswell. in like manner we have 'hermes harris,' 'pliny melmoth,' 'demosthenes taylor,' 'persian jones,' 'abyssinian bruce,' 'microscope baker,' 'leonidas glover,' 'hesiod cooke,' and 'corsica boswell.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . he introduced boswell to davies, who was 'the immediate introducer.' _post_, under june , , note. [ ] on march , (not ), the audience called for a repetition of some lines which they applied against the government. 'diggs, the actor, refused by order of sheridan, the manager, to repeat them; sheridan would not even appear on the stage to justify the prohibition. in an instant the audience demolished the inside of the house, and reduced it to a shell.' walpole's _reign of george ii_, i. , and _gent. mag_. xxiv. . sheridan's friend, mr. s. whyte, says (_miscellanea nova, p. ):--'in the year sheridan's scheme for an _english dictionary_ was published. that memorable year he was nominated for a pension.' he quotes (p. ) a letter from mrs. sheridan, dated nov. , , in which she says:--'i suppose you must have heard that the king has granted him a pension of £. a year, merely as an encouragement to his undertaking.' [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] horace walpole describes lord bute as 'a man that had passed his life in solitude, and was too haughty to admit to his familiarity but half a dozen silly authors and flatterers. sir henry erskine, a military poet, home, a tragedy-writing parson,' &c. _mem. of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'native wood-_notes_ wild.' milton's _l'allegro_, l. [ ] 'in nova fert animus mutatas dicere formas corpora. di coeptis (nam vos mutastis et illas) adspirate meis.' 'of bodies changed to various forms i sing:-- ye gods from whence these miracles did spring inspired, &c.'--dryden, ov. _met_. i.i. see _post_ under march , , for lord loughborough. [ ] see _post_, may , , and june , . sheridan was not of a forgiving nature. for some years he would not speak to his famous son: yet he went with his daughters to the theatre to see one of his pieces performed. 'the son took up his station by one of the side scenes, opposite to the box where they sat, and there continued, unobserved, to look at them during the greater part of the night. on his return home he burst into tears, and owned how deeply it had gone to his heart, "to think that _there_ sat his father and his sisters before him, and yet that he alone was not permitted to go near them."' moore's _sheridan_, i. . [ ] as johnson himself said:--'men hate more steadily than they love; and if i have said something to hurt a man once, i shall not get the better of this by saying many things to please him.' _post_, sept. , . [ ] p. . boswell. 'there is another writer, at present of gigantic fame in these days of little men, who has pretended to scratch out a life of swift, but so miserably executed as only to reflect back on himself that disgrace which he meant to throw upon the character of the dean.' _the life of doctor swift_, swift's _works_, ed. , ii. . there is a passage in the _lives of the poets_ (_works_, viii. ) in which johnson might be supposed playfully to have anticipated this attack. he is giving an account of blackmore's imaginary _literary club of lay monks_, of which the hero was 'one mr. johnson.' 'the rest of the _lay monks_,' he writes, 'seem to be but feeble mortals, in comparison with the gigantick johnson.' see also _post_, oct. , . horace walpole (_letters_, v. ) spoke no less scornfully than sheridan of johnson and his contemporaries. on april , , after saying that he should like to be intimate with anstey (the author of the _new bath guide_), or with the author of the _heroic epistle_, he continues:--'i have no thirst to know the rest of my contemporaries, from the absurd bombast of dr. johnson down to the silly dr. goldsmith; though the latter changeling has had bright gleams of parts, and the former had sense, till he changed it for words, and sold it for a pension. don't think me scornful. recollect that i have seen pope and lived with gray.' [ ] johnson is thus mentioned by mrs. sheridan in a letter dated, blois, nov. , , according to the _garrick corres_, i. , but the date is wrongly given, as the sheridans went to blois in : 'i have heard johnson decry some of the prettiest pieces of writing we have in english; yet johnson is an honourable man--that is to say, he is a good critic, and in other respects a man of enormous talents.' [ ] my position has been very well illustrated by mr. belsham of bedford, in his _essay on dramatic poetry_. 'the fashionable doctrine (says he) both of moralists and criticks in these times is, that virtue and happiness are constant concomitants; and it is regarded as a kind of dramatick impiety to maintain that virtue should not be rewarded, nor vice punished in the last scene of the last act of every tragedy. this conduct in our modern poets is, however, in my opinion, extremely injudicious; for, it labours in vain to inculcate a doctrine in theory, which every one knows to be false in fact, _viz_. that virtue in real life is always productive of happiness; and vice of misery. thus congreve concludes the tragedy of _the mourning bride_ with the following foolish couplet:-- 'for blessings ever wait on virtuous deeds, and though a late, a sure reward succeeds.' 'when a man eminently virtuous, a brutus, a cato, or a socrates, finally sink under the pressure of accumulated misfortune, we are not only led to entertain a more indignant hatred of vice than if he rose from his distress, but we are inevitably induced to cherish the sublime idea that a day of future retribution will arrive when he shall receive not merely poetical, but real and substantial justice.' _essays philosophical, historical, and literary_, london, , vol. ii. vo. p. . this is well reasoned and well expressed. i wish, indeed, that the ingenious authour had not thought it necessary to introduce any _instance_ of 'a man eminently virtuous;' as he would then have avoided mentioning such a ruffian as brutus under that description. mr. belsham discovers in his _essays_ so much reading and thinking, and good composition, that i regret his not having been fortunate enough to be educated a member of our excellent national establishment. had he not been nursed in nonconformity, he probably would not have been tainted with those heresies (as i sincerely, and on no slight investigation, think them) both in religion and politicks, which, while i read, i am sure, with candour, i cannot read without offence. boswell. boswell's 'position has been illustrated' with far greater force by johnson. 'it has been the boast of some swelling moralists, that every man's fortune was in his own power, that prudence supplied the place of all other divinities, and that happiness is the unfailing consequence of virtue. but surely the quiver of omnipotence is stored with arrows against which the shield of human virtue, however adamantine it has been boasted, is held up in vain; we do not always suffer by our crimes; we are not always protected by our innocence.' _the adventurer_, no. . see also _rasselas_, chap. . [ ] 'charles fox said that mrs. sheridan's _sydney biddulph_ was the best of all modern novels. by the by [r. b.] sheridan used to declare that _he_ had never read it.' rogers's _table-talk_, p. . the editor says, in a note on this passage:--'the incident in _the school for scandal_ of sir oliver's presenting himself to his relations in disguise is manifestly taken by sheridan from his mother's novel.' [ ] no. .--the very place where i was fortunate enough to be introduced to the illustrious subject of this work, deserves to be particularly marked. i never pass by it without feeling reverence and regret. boswell. [ ] johnson said:--'sir, davies has learning enough to give credit to a clergyman.' _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. the spiteful steevens thus wrote about davies:--'his concern ought to be with the outside of books; but dr. johnson, dr. percy, and some others have made such a coxcomb of him, that he is now hardy enough to open volumes, turn over their leaves, and give his opinions of their contents. did i ever tell you an anecdote of him? about ten years ago i wanted the oxford _homer_, and called at davies's to ask for it, as i had seen one thrown about his shop. will you believe me, when i assure you he told me "he had but one, and that he kept for _his own reading_?"' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] johnson, writing to beattie, _post_, aug , , says:--'mr. davies has got great success as an author, generated by the corruption of a bookseller.' his principal works are _memoirs of garrick_, , and _dramatic miscellanies_, . [ ] churchill, in the _rosciad_, thus celebrated his wife and mocked his recitation:-- 'with him came mighty davies. on my life that davies hath a very pretty wife:-- statesman all over!--in plots famous grown!-- he mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone.' churchill's _poems_, i. . see _post_, under april , , and march , . charles lamb in a note to his _essay on the tragedies of shakespeare_ says of davies, that he 'is recorded to have recited the _paradise lost_ better than any man in england in his day (though i cannot help thinking there must be some mistake in this tradition).' lamb's _works_, ed. , p. . [ ] see johnson's letter to davies, _post_, june , . [ ] mr. murphy, in his _essay on the life and genius of dr. johnson_, [p. ], has given an account of this meeting considerably different from mine, i am persuaded without any consciousness of errour. his memory, at the end of near thirty years, has undoubtedly deceived him, and he supposes himself to have been present at a scene, which he has probably heard inaccurately described by others. in my note _taken on the very day_, in which i am confident i marked every thing material that passed, no mention is made of this gentleman; and i am sure, that i should not have omitted one so well known in the literary world. it may easily be imagined that this, my first interview with dr. johnson, with all its circumstances, made a strong impression on my mind, and would be registered with peculiar attention. boswell. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] that this was a momentary sally against garrick there can be no doubt; for at johnson's desire he had, some years before, given a benefit-night at his theatre to this very person, by which she had got two hundred pounds. johnson, indeed, upon all other occasions, when i was in his company, praised the very liberal charity of garrick. i once mentioned to him, 'it is observed, sir, that you attack garrick yourself, but will suffer nobody else to do it.' johnson, (smiling) 'why, sir, that is true.' boswell. see _post_, may , , and april , . [ ] by henry home, lord kames, vols. edinburgh, . see _post_, oct. , . 'johnson laughed much at lord kames's opinion that war was a good thing occasionally, as so much valour and virtue were exhibited in it. "a fire," says johnson, "might as well be thought a good thing; there is the bravery and address of the firemen employed in extinguishing it; there is much humanity exerted in saving the lives and properties of the poor sufferers; yet after all this, who can say a fire is a good thing?"' johnson's _works_, ( ) xi. . [ ] no. of the _north briton_ had been published on april . wilkes was arrested under a general warrant on april . on may he was discharged from custody by the court of common pleas, before which he had been brought by a writ of _habeas corpus_. a few days later he was served with a subpoena upon an information exhibited against him by the attorney-general in the court of king's bench. he did not enter an appearance, holding, as he said, the serving him with the subpoena as a violation of the privilege of parliament. _parl. hist_. xv. . [ ] mr. sheridan was then reading lectures upon oratory at bath, where derrick was master of the ceremonies; or, as the phrase is, king. boswell. dr. parr, who knew sheridan well, describes him 'as a wrong-headed, whimsical man.' 'i remember,' he continues, 'hearing one of his daughters, in the house where i lodged, triumphantly repeat dryden's _ode upon st. cecilia's day_, according to the instruction given to her by her father. take a sample:-- "_none_ but the brave none but the _brave_. none _but_ the brave deserve the fair." naughty richard [r. b. sheridan], like gallio, seemed to care nought for these things.' moore's _sheridan_, i. , . sheridan writing from dublin on dec. , , says:--'never was party violence carried to such a height as in this session; the house [the irish house of parliament] seldom breaking up till eleven or twelve at night. from these contests the desire of improving in the article of elocution is become very general. there are no less than five persons of rank and fortune now waiting my leisure to become my pupils.' _ib_. p. . see _post_, july , . [ ] bonnell thornton. see _post_ july , . [ ] lloyd was one of a remarkable group of westminster boys. he was a school-fellow not only of churchill, the elder colman, and cumberland, buy also of cowper and warren hastings. bonnell thornton was a few years their senior. not many weeks after this meeting with boswell, lloyd was in the fleet prison. churchill in _indepence_(_poems_ ii ) thus addresses the patrons of the age:-- 'hence, ye vain boasters, to the fleet repair and ask, with blushes ask if lloyd is there.' of the four men who thus enlivened boswell, two were dead before the end of the following year. churchill went first. when lloyd heard of his death, '"i shall follow poor charles," was all he said, as he went to the bed from which he never rose again.' thornton lived three or four years longer, forster's _essays_, ii , , . see also his _life of goldsmith_ i. , for an account how 'lloyd invited goldsmith to sup with some friends of grub street, and left him to pay the reckoning.' thornton, lloyd, colman, cowper, and joseph hill, to whom cowper's famous _epistle_ was addressed, had at one time been members of the nonsense club. southey's _cowper_, i. . [ ] the author of the well-known sermons, see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] see _post_, feb. , , under dec. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] 'sir,' he said to reynolds, 'a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would _abandon_ his mind to it;' _post_, under march , . [ ] 'or behind the screen' some one might have added, _ante_, i. . [ ] wesley was told that a whole waggon-load of methodists had been lately brought before a justice of the peace. when he asked what they were charged with, one replied, 'why they pretended to be better than other people, and besides they prayed from morning to night.' wesley's _journal_, i. . see also _post_, , near the end of mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] 'the progress which the understanding makes through a book has' he said, 'more pain than pleasure in it;' _post_, may , . [ ] _matthew_, vi. . [ ] boswell, it is clear, in the early days of his acquaintance with johnson often led the talk to this subject. see _post_, june , july , , and , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] he finished his day, 'however late it might be,' by taking tea at miss williams's lodgings; _post_, july , . [ ] see _post_, under feb. , , feb. , march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , where johnson says:--'i have been trying to cure my laziness all my life, and could not do it.' it was this kind of life that caused so much of the remorse which is seen in his _prayers and meditations_. [ ] horace walpole writing on june , (_letters_, iii. ), says:--'a war that reaches from muscovy to alsace, and from madras to california, don't produce an article half so long as mr. johnson's riding three horses at once.' i have a curious copper-plate showing johnson standing on one, or two, and leading a third horse in full speed.' it bears the date of november . see _post_, april , . [ ] in the impudent _correspondence_ (pp. , ) which boswell and andrew erskine published this year, boswell shows why he wished to enter the guards. 'my fondness for the guards,' he writes, 'must appear very strange to you, who have a rooted antipathy at the glare of scarlet. but i must inform you, that there is a city called london, for which i have as violent an affection as the most romantic lover ever had for his mistress.... i am thinking of the brilliant scenes of happiness, which i shall enjoy as an officer of the guards. how i shall be acquainted with all the grandeur of a court, and all the elegance of dress and diversions; become a favourite of ministers of state, and the adoration of ladies of quality, beauty, and fortune! how many parties of pleasure shall i have in town! how many fine jaunts to the noble seats of dukes, lords, and members of parliament in the country! i am thinking of the perfect knowledge which i shall acquire of men and manners, of the intimacies which i shall have the honour to form with the learned and ingenious in every science, and of the many amusing literary anecdotes which i shall pick up,' etc. boswell, in his _hebrides_ (aug. , ), says of himself:--'his inclination was to be a soldier; but his father, a respectable judge, had pressed him into the profession of the law.' [ ] a row of tenements in the strand, between wych street and temple bar, and 'so called from the butchers' shambles on the south side.' (_strype_, b. iv. p. .) butcher row was pulled down in , and the present pickett street erected in its stead. p. cunningham. in _humphry clinker_, in the letter of june , one of the poor authors is described as having been 'reduced to a woollen night-cap and living upon sheep's-trotters, up three pair of stairs backward in butcher row.' [ ] cibber was poet-laureate from to . horace walpole describes him as 'that good humoured and honest veteran, so unworthily aspersed by pope, whose _memoirs_, with one or two of his comedies, will secure his fame, in spite of all the abuse of his contemporaries.' his successor whitehead, walpole calls 'a man of a placid genius.' _reign of george ii_, iii. . see _ante_, pp. , , and _post_, oct. , , may , , and sept. , . [ ] the following quotations show the difference of style in the two poets:-- colley gibber. 'when her pride, fierce in arms, would to europe give law; at her cost let her come, to our cheer of huzza! not lightning with thunder more terrible darts, than the burst of huzza from our bold _british_ hearts.' _gent. mag_. xxv. . wm. whitehead. 'ye guardian powers, to whose command, at nature's birth, th' almighty mind the delegated task assign'd to watch o'er albion's favour'd land, what time your hosts with choral lay, emerging from its kindred deep, applausive hail'd each verdant steep, and white rock, glitt'ring to the new-born day!' _ib_. xxix. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'whitehead was for some while garrick's "reader" of new plays for drury-lane.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . see _post_, april , , note. the verses to garrick are given in chalmers's _english poets_, xvii. . [ ] 'in gray published _the progress of poetry_ and _the bard_, two compositions at which the readers of poetry were at first content to gaze in mute amazement. some that tried them confessed their inability to understand them.... garrick wrote a few lines in their praise. some hardy champions undertook to rescue them from neglect; and in a short time many were content to be shown beauties which they could not see.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_, march , and april , , and in mr. langton's _collection_. goldsmith, no doubt, attacked gray among 'the misguided innovators,' of whom he said in his _life of parnell_:--'they have adopted a language of their own, and call upon mankind for admiration. all those who do not understand them are silent, and those who make out their meaning are willing to praise to show they understand.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, iv. . [ ] johnson, perhaps, refers to the anonymous critic quoted by mason in his notes on this ode, who says:--'this abrupt execration plunges the reader into that sudden fearful perplexity which is designed to predominate through the whole.' mason's _gray_, ed. , i. . [ ] 'of the first stanza [of _the bard_] the abrupt beginning has been celebrated; but technical beauties can give praise only to the inventor. it is in the power of any man to rush abruptly upon his subject that has read the ballad of _johnny armstrong_.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] my friend mr. malone, in his valuable comments on shakspeare, has traced in that great poet the _disjecta membra_ of these lines. boswell. gray, in the edition of _the bard_ of the year , in a note on these lines had quoted from _king john_, act v. sc. :--'mocking the air with colours idly spread.' gosse's _gray_, i. . but malone quotes also from _macbeth_, act i. sc. :-- 'where the norweyan banners flout the sky and fan our people cold.' 'out of these passages,' he said, 'mr. gray seems to have framed the first stanza of his celebrated _ode_.' malone's _shakespeare_, xv. . [ ] cradock records (_memoirs_, . ) that goldsmith said to him:--'you are so attached to kurd, gray, and mason, that you think nothing good can proceed but out of that formal school;--now, i'll mend gray's _elegy_ by leaving out an idle word in every line. "the curfew tolls the knell of day, the lowing herd winds o'er the lea the ploughman homeward plods his way and---" enough, enough, i have no ear for more.' [ ] so, less than two years later, boswell opened his mind to paoli. 'my time passed here in the most agreeable manner. i enjoyed a sort of luxury of noble sentiment. paoli became more affable with me. i made myself known to him.' boswell's _corsica_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] see _post_, march , , where in speaking of the appearance of spirits after death he says:--'all argument is against it; but all belief is for it.' see also _ante_, p. , and _post_, april , , under may , , april , , and june , . [ ] the caricature begins:-- 'pomposo, insolent and loud vain idol of a _scribbling_ crowd, whose very name inspires an awe whose ev'ry word is sense and law.' churchill's _poems_, i. . [ ] the chief impostor, a man of the name of parsons, had, it should seem, set his daughter to play the part of the ghost in order to pay out a grudge against a man who had sued him for a debt. the ghost was made to accuse this man of poisoning his sister-in-law, and to declare that she should only be at ease in her mind if he were hanged. 'when parsons stood on the pillory at the end of cock lane, instead of being pelted, he had money given him.' _gent. mag_. xxxii. , , and xxxiii. . [ ] horace walpole, writing on feb. , (_letters_, iii. ), says:--'i could send you volumes on the ghost, and i believe, if i were to stay a little, i might send its _life_, dedicated to my lord dartmouth, by the ordinary of newgate, its two great patrons. a drunken parish clerk set it on foot out of revenge, the methodists have adopted it, and the whole town of london think of nothing else.... i went to hear it, for it is not an _apparition_, but an _audition_, ... the duke of york, lady northumberland, lady mary coke, lord hertford, and i, all in one hackney-coach: it rained torrents; yet the lane was full of mob, and the house so full we could not get in.' see _post_, april , . [ ] described by goldsmith in _retaliation_ as 'the scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] the account was as follows:--'on the night of the st of february [ ] many gentlemen eminent for their rank and character were, by the invitation of the reverend mr. aldrich, of clerkenwell, assembled at his house, for the examination of the noises supposed to be made by a departed spirit, for the detection of some enormous crime. 'about ten at night the gentlemen met in the chamber in which the girl, supposed to be disturbed by a spirit, had, with proper caution, been put to bed by several ladies. they sat rather more than an hour, and hearing nothing, went down stairs, when they interrogated the father of the girl, who denied, in the strongest terms, any knowledge or belief of fraud. 'the supposed spirit had before publickly promised, by an affirmative knock, that it would attend one of the gentlemen into the vault under the church of st. john, clerkenwell, where the body is deposited, and give a token of her presence there, by a knock upon her coffin; it was therefore determined to make this trial of the existence or veracity of the supposed spirit. 'while they were enquiring and deliberating, they were summoned into the girl's chamber by some ladies who were near her bed, and who had heard knocks and scratches. when the gentlemen entered, the girl declared that she felt the spirit like a mouse upon her back, and was required to hold her hands out of bed. from that time, though the spirit was very solemnly required to manifest its existence by appearance, by impression on the hand or body of any present, by scratches, knocks, or any other agency, no evidence of any preter-natural power was exhibited. 'the spirit was then very seriously advertised that the person to whom the promise was made of striking the coffin, was then about to visit the vault, and that the performance of the promise was then claimed. the company at one o'clock went into the church, and the gentleman to whom the promise was made, went with another into the vault. the spirit was solemnly required to perform its promise, but nothing more than silence ensued: the person supposed to be accused by the spirit, then went down with several others, but no effect was perceived. upon their return they examined the girl, but could draw no confession from her. between two and three she desired and was permitted to go home with her father. 'it is, therefore, the opinion of the whole assembly, that the child has some art of making or counterfeiting a particular noise, and that there is no agency of any higher cause.' boswell. _gent. mag_. xxxii. . the following ms. letter is in the british museum:-- 'revd. sir, the appointment for the examination stands as it did when i saw you last, viz., between and this evening. mr. johnson was applied to by a friend of mine soon after you left him, and promised to be with us. should be glad, if convenient, you'd show him the way hither. mrs. oakes, of dr. macauley's recommendation, i should be glad to have here on the occasion; and think it would do honour to the list of examiners to have dr. macauley with us. i am, dear sir, your most obedient servant, ste. aldrich. if dr macauley can conveniently attend, should be glad you'd acquaint lord dartmouth with it, who seemed to be at loss to recommend a gentleman of the faculty at his end of the town. st. john's square. monday noon. to the revd. dr. douglas.' endorsed 'mr. aldrich, feb. , about the cock lane ghost.--examination at his house.' [ ] boswell was with paoli when news came that a corsican under sentence of death 'had consented to accept of his life, upon condition of becoming hangman. this made a great noise among the corsicans, who were enraged at the creature, and said their nation was now disgraced. paoli did not think so. he said to me:--"i am glad of this. it will be of service. it will contribute to form us to a just subordination. as we must have corsican tailours, and corsican shoemakers, we must also have a corsican hangman."' boswell's _corsica_, p. . see _post_, july and , , april , , and march , . [ ] 'mallet's dramas had their day, a short day, and are forgotten.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note. [ ] 'a man had heard that dempster was very clever, and therefore expected that he could say nothing but good things. being brought acquainted, mr. dempster said to him with much politeness, "i hope, sir, your lady and family are well." "ay, ay, man," said he, "pray where is the great wit in that speech?"' _boswelliana_, p. . mr. dempster is mentioned by burns in _the author's earnest cry and prayer to the scotch representatives in the house of commons_:--'dempster, a true-blue scot i'se warran.' in he was elected member for the forfar boroughs. _parl. hist_. xvi. . [ ] _the critical review_, in which mallet himself sometimes wrote, characterised this pamphlet as 'the crude efforts of envy, petulance and self conceit.' there being thus three epithets, we, the three authours, had a humourous contention how each should be appropriated. boswell. [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) talks of the chiefs 'gradually degenerating from patriarchal rulers to rapacious landlords.' in boswell's _hebrides_, the subject is often examined. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'dr. burney spoke with great warmth of affection of dr. johnson; said he was the kindest creature in the world when he thought he was loved and respected by others. he would play the fool among friends, but he required deference. it was necessary to ask questions and make no assertion. if you said two and two make four, he would say, "how will you prove that, sir?" dr. burney seemed amiably sensitive to every unfavourable remark on his old friend.' h. c. robinson's _diary_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, april , , note, and oct. l , , where he consults johnson about the study of greek. he formed wishes, scarcely plans of study but never studied. [ ] see _post_, feb. , . it was graham who so insulted goldsmith by saying:--''tis not you i mean, dr. _minor_; 'tis dr. _major_ there.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] of mathematics goldsmith wrote:--'this seems a science to which the meanest intellects are equal.' see _post_, march , , note. [ ] in his _present state of polite learning_, ch. (_misc. works_, i. ), goldsmith writes:--'a man who is whirled through europe in a post-chaise, and the pilgrim who walks the grand tour on foot, will form very different conclusions. _haud inexpertus loquor_.' the last three words are omitted in the second edition. [ ] george primrose in the _vicar of wakefield_ (ch. ), after describing these disputations, says:--'in this manner i fought my way towards england.' [ ] dr. warton wrote to his brother on jan. , :--'of all solemn coxcombs goldsmith is the first; yet sensible--but affects to use johnson's hard words in conversation.' wooll's _warton_, p. . [ ] it was long believed that the author of one of goldsmith's early works was lord lyttelton. '"whenever i write anything," said goldsmith, "i think the public _make a point_ to know nothing about it." so the present book was issued as a _history of england in a series of letters from a nobleman to his son_. the persuasion at last became general that the author was lord lyttelton, and the name of that grave good lord is occasionally still seen affixed to it on the bookstalls.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . the _traveller_ was the first of his works to which he put his name. it was published in . . p. . [ ] published in . [ ] published in - . [ ] see his epitaph in westminster abbey, written by dr. johnson. boswell. 'qui nullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.' _post_, under june , . [ ] in allusion to this, mr. horace walpole, who admired his writings, said he was 'an inspired ideot;' and garrick described him as one '----for shortness call'd noll, who wrote like an angel, and talk'd like poor poll.' sir joshua reynolds mentioned to me that he frequently heard goldsmith talk warmly of the pleasure of being liked, and observe how hard it would be if literary excellence should preclude a man from that satisfaction, which he perceived it often did, from the envy which attended it; and therefore sir joshua was convinced that he was intentionally more absurd, in order to lessen himself in social intercourse, trusting that his character would be sufficiently supported by his works. if it indeed was his intention to appear absurd in company, he was often very successful. but with due deference to sir joshua's ingenuity, i think the conjecture too refined. boswell. horace walpole's saying of the 'inspired ideot' is recorded in davies's _garrick_, ii. . walpole, in his _letters_, describes goldsmith as 'a changeling that has had bright gleams of parts,' (v. ); 'a fool, the more wearing for having some sense,' (vi. ); 'a poor soul that had sometimes parts, though never common sense,' (_ib_. p. ); and 'an idiot, with once or twice a fit of parts,' (_ib_. p. ). garrick's lines-- 'here lies nolly goldsmith, for shortness called noll, who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll,' are his imaginary epitaph on goldsmith, which, with the others, gave rise to _retaliation_. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] rousseau accounting for the habit he has 'de balbutier promptement des paroles sans idées,' continues, 'je crois que voilà de quoi faire assez comprendre comment n'étant pas un sot, j'ai cependant souvent passé pour l'être, même chez des gens en état de bien juger.... le parti que j'ai pris d'écrire et de me cacher est précisément celui qui me convenait. moi présent on n'aurait jamais su ce que je valois, on ne l'aurait pas soupconné même.' _les confessions_, livre iii. see _post_, april , , where boswell admits that 'goldsmith was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even when he entered the lists with johnson himself:' and april , , where reynolds says of him: 'there is no man whose company is more liked.' [ ] northcote, a few weeks before his death, said to mr. prior:--'when goldsmith entered a room, sir, people who did not know him became for a moment silent from awe of his literary reputation; when he came out again, they were riding upon his back.' prior's _goldsmith_, i. . according to dr. percy:--'his face was marked with strong lines of thinking. his first appearance was not captivating; but when he grew easy and cheerful in company, he relaxed into such a display of good humour as soon removed every unfavourable impression.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] 'dr. goldsmith told me, he himself envied shakespeare.' walpole's _letters_, vi. . boswell, later on (_post_, may , ), says:--'in my opinion goldsmith had not more of it [an envious disposition] than other people have, but only talked of it freely.' see also _post_, april , . according to northcote, 'sir joshua said that goldsmith considered public notoriety or fame as one great parcel, to the whole of which he laid claim, and whoever partook of any part of it, whether dancer, singer, slight of hand man, or tumbler, deprived him of his right.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . see _post_, april , , where johnson said that 'goldsmith was not an agreeable companion, for he talked always for fame;' and april , . [ ] miss hornecks, one of whom is now married to henry bunbury, esq., and the other to colonel gwyn. boswell. [ ] 'standing at the window of their hotel [in lisle] to see a company of soldiers in the square, the beauty of the sisters horneck drew such marked admiration, that goldsmith, heightening his drollery with that air of solemnity so generally a point in his humour and so often more solemnly misinterpreted, turned off from the window with the remark that elsewhere _he_ too could have his admirers. the jessamy bride, mrs. gwyn, was asked about the occurrence not many years ago; remembered it as a playful jest; and said how shocked she had subsequently been "to see it adduced in print as a proof of his envious disposition."' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] puppets. [ ] he went home with mr. burke to supper; and broke his shin by attempting to exhibit to the company how much better he could jump over a stick than the puppets. boswell. mr. hoole was one day in a coach with johnson, when 'johnson, who delighted in rapidity of pace, and had been speaking of goldsmith, put his head out of one of the windows to see they were going right, and rubbing his hands with an air of satisfaction exclaimed:--"this man drives fast and well; were goldsmith here now he would tell us he could do better."' prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, april , ; also april , , where johnson says, 'goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject.' [ ] i am willing to hope that there may have been some mistake as to this anecdote, though i had it from a dignitary of the church. dr. isaac goldsmith, his near relation, was dean of cloyne, in . boswell. this note first appears in the second edition. [ ] mr. welsh, in _a bookseller of the last century_, p. , quotes the following entry from an account-book of b. collins of salisbury, the printer of the first edition of the _vicar_:--'_vicar of wakefield_, vols. mo., / rd. b. collins, salisbury, bought of dr. goldsmith, the author, october , , £ .' goldsmith, it should seem from this, as collins's third share was worth twenty guineas, was paid not sixty pounds, but sixty guineas. collins shared in many of the ventures of newbery, goldsmith's publisher. mr. welsh says (_ib_. p. ) that collins's accounts show 'that the first three editions resulted in a loss.' if this was so, the booksellers must have been great bunglers, for the book ran through three editions in six or seven months. forster's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] the traveller (price one shilling and sixpence) was published in december , and _the vicar of wakefield_ in march . in august the fourth edition of _the traveller_ appeared, and the ninth in the year goldsmith died. he received for it £ . forster's _goldsmith_, i. , , . see _ante_, p. , note i. [ ] '"miss burney," said mrs. thrale [to dr. johnson], "is fond of _the vicar of wakefield_, and so am i. don't you like it, sir?" "no, madam, it is very faulty; there is nothing of real life in it, and very little of nature. it is a mere fanciful performance."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . 'there are a hundred faults in this thing,' said goldsmith in the preface, 'and a hundred things might be said to prove them beauties. but it is needless. a book may be amusing with numerous errors, or it may be very dull without a single absurdity.' see _post_, april , . [ ] _anecdotes of johnson_, p. . boswell. [ ] _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. [ ] in his imprudence he was like savage, of whom johnson says (_works_, viii. ):--'to supply him with money was a hopeless attempt; for no sooner did he see himself master of a sum sufficient to set him free from care for a day, than he became profuse and luxurious.' when savage was 'lodging in the liberties of the fleet, his friends sent him every monday a guinea, which he commonly spent before the next morning, and trusted, after his usual manner, the remaining part of the week to the bounty of fortune.' _ib_. p. . [ ] it may not be improper to annex here mrs. piozzi's account of this transaction, in her own words, as a specimen of the extreme inaccuracy with which all her anecdotes of dr. johnson are related, or rather discoloured and distorted:--'i have forgotten the year, but it could scarcely, i think, be later than or that he was _called abruptly from our house after dinner_, and returning _in about three hours_, said he had been with an enraged authour, whose landlady pressed him for payment within doors, while the bailiffs beset him without; that he was _drinking himself drunk_ with madeira, to drown care, and fretting over a novel, which, when _finished_, was to be his _whole fortune_, but _he could not get it done for distraction_, nor could he step out of doors to offer it for sale. mr. johnson, therefore, sent away the bottle, and went to the bookseller, recommending the performance, and _desiring some immediate relief_; which when he brought back to the writer, _he called the 'woman of the house directly to partake of punch, and pass their time in merriment.' anecdotes of dr. johnson_, p. . boswell. the whole transaction took place in , as is shown, _ante_, p. , note ; johnson did not know the thrales till . [ ] through goldsmith boswell became acquainted with reynolds. in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ), he says:--'i exhort you, my friends and countrymen, in the words of my departed _goldsmith_, who gave me many nodes _atticae_, and gave me a jewel of the finest water--the acquaintance of sir joshua reynolds.' [ ] see _post_, july , . [ ] see _post_, march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'dr. campbell was an entertaining story-teller, which [_sic_] sometimes he rather embellished; so that the writer of this once heard dr. johnson say:--"campbell will lie, but he never lies on paper."' _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] i am inclined to think that he was misinformed as to this circumstance. i own i am jealous for my worthy friend dr. john campbell. for though milton could without remorse absent himself from publick worship [johnson's _works_, vii. ] i cannot. on the contrary, i have the same habitual impressions upon my mind, with those of a truely venerable judge, who said to mr. langton, 'friend langton, if i have not been at church on sunday, i do not feel myself easy.' dr. campbell was a sincerely religious man. lord macartney, who is eminent for his variety of knowledge, and attention to men of talents, and knew him well, told me, that when he called on him in a morning, he found him reading a chapter in the greek new testament, which he informed his lordship was his constant practice. the quantity of dr. campbell's composition is almost incredible, and his labours brought him large profits. dr. joseph warton told me that johnson said of him, 'he is the richest authour that ever grazed the common of literature.' boswell. [ ] see _post_, april , . campbell complied with one of the _monita padagogica_ of erasmus. 'si quem praeteribis natu grandem, magistratum, sacerdotem, doctorem.... memento aperire caput.... itidem facito quum praeteribis asdem sacram.' erasmus's _colloquies_, ed. , i. . [ ] reynolds said of johnson:--'he was not easily imposed upon by professions to honesty and candour; but he appeared to have little suspicion of hypocrisy in religion.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . boswell, in one of his penitent letters, wrote to temple on july , :--'i am even almost inclined to think with you, that my great oracle johnson did allow too much credit to good principles, without good practice.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] campbell lived in 'the large new-built house at the north-west-corner of queen square, bloomsbury, whither, particularly on a sunday evening, great numbers of persons of the first eminence for science and literature resorted for the enjoyment of conversation.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] churchill, in his first poem, _the rosciad_ (poems, i. ), mentions johnson without any disrespect among those who were thought of as judge. 'for johnson some, but johnson, it was feared, would be too grave; and sterne too gay appeared.' in the author (ib. ii. ), if i mistake not, he grossly alludes to the convulsive disorder to which johnson was subject. attacking the pensioners he says--the italics are his own:-- 'others, _half-palsied_ only, mutes become, and what makes smollett write makes johnson dumb.' [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson called fielding a blockhead. [ ] churchill published his first poem, _the rosciad_, in march or april (_gent. mag_. xxxi. ); _the apology_ in may or june (_ib_. p. ); _night_ in jan. (_ib_. xxxii. ); the first and second parts of the ghost in march (_ib_. p. ); the third part in the autumn (_ib_. p. ); _the prophecy of famine _in jan. (_ib_. xxxiii. ), and _the epistle to hogarth_ in this month of july (_ib_. p. ). he wrote the fourth part of _the ghost_, and nine more poems, and died on nov. , , aged thirty-two or thirty-three. [ ] 'cowper had a higher opinion of churchill than of any other contemporary writer. "it is a great thing," he said, "to be indeed a poet, and does not happen to more than one man in a century; but churchill, the great churchill, deserved that name." he made him, more than any other writer, his model.' southey's _cowper_, i. , . [ ] mr. forster says that 'churchill asked five guineas for the manuscript of _the rosciad_ (according to southey, but mr. tooke says he asked twenty pounds).' finding no purchaser he brought the poem out at his own risk. mr. forster continues:--'the pulpit had starved him on forty pounds a year; the public had given him a thousand pounds in two months.' forster's _essays_, ii. , . as _the rosciad _was sold at one shilling a copy, it seems incredible that such a gain could have been made, even with the profits of _the apology_ included. 'blotting and correcting was so much churchill's abhorrence that i have heard from his publisher he once energetically expressed himself, that it was like cutting away one's own flesh.' d'israeli's _curiosities of literature_, ed. , iii. . d'israeli 'had heard that after a successful work he usually precipitated the publication of another, relying on its crudeness being passed over by the public curiosity excited by its better brother. he called this getting double pay, for thus he secured the sale of a hurried work.' [ ] in the opening lines of _gotham,_ bk. iii, there is a passage of great beauty and tenderness. [ ] in i set thornton's burlesque _ode_. it was performed at ranelagh in masks, to a very crowded audience, as i was told; for i then resided in norfolk. burney. dr. burney's note cannot be correct. he came to reside in london in (_memoirs of dr. burney_, i. ) the ode is in the list of 'new books, published' in the _gent. mag_. for june , and is described as having been performed at ranelagh. [ ] _the connoisseur_ was started by thornton and colman in . cowper and lloyd were contributors. southey's _cowper_, i. , , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note. [ ] see _post_, aug. , , and oct. , . [ ] see _post_. sept. , , note. [ ] the northern bard mentioned page . when i asked dr. johnson's permission to introduce him, he obligingly agreed; adding, however, with a sly pleasantry, 'but he must give us none of his poetry.' it is remarkable that johnson and churchill, however much they differed in other points, agreed on this subject. see churchill's _journey_. ['under dark allegory's flimsy veil let them with ogilvie spin out a tale of rueful length,' churchill's _poems_, ii. .] it is, however, but justice to dr. ogilvie to observe, that his _day of judgement_ has no inconsiderable share of merit. boswell. [ ] 'johnson said:--"goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to _shine_ in conversation."' _post_, april , . see also _post_, may , . [ ] fifteen years later lord george germaine, secretary of state, asserted in a debate 'that the king "was his own minister," which charles fox took up admirably, lamenting that his majesty "was his own _unadvised_ minister."' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] 'the general story of mankind will evince that lawful and settled authority is very seldom resisted when it is well employed.... men are easily kept obedient to those who have temporal dominion in their hands, till their veneration is dissipated by such wickedness and folly as can neither be defended nor concealed.' _the rambler_, no. . see _post_, march , . [ ] 'it is natural to believe ... that no writer has a more easy task than the historian. the philosopher has the works of omniscience to examine.... the poet trusts to his invention.... but the happy historian has no other labour than of gathering what tradition pours down before him, or records treasure for his use.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'arbuthnot was a man of great comprehension, skilful in his profession, versed in the sciences, acquainted with ancient literature, and able to animate his mass of knowledge by a bright and active imagination; a scholar with great brilliancy of wit; a wit, who in the crowd of life retained and discovered a noble ardour of religious zeal.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] goldsmith wrote from edinburgh in :--'shall i tire you with a description of this unfruitful country, where i must lead you over their hills all brown with heath, or their vallies scarce able to feed a rabbit? man alone seems to be the only creature who has arrived to the natural size in this poor soil. every part of the country presents the same dismal landscape.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] johnson would suffer none of his friends to fill up chasms in conversation with remarks on the weather: 'let us not talk of the weather.' burney. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on sept. , :--'how unaccountable is it that my father and i should be so ill together! he is a man of sense and a man of worth; but from some unhappy turn in his disposition he is much dissatisfied with a son whom you know. i write to him with warmth, with an honest pride, wishing that he should think of me as i am; but my letters shock him, and every expression in them is interpreted unfavourably. to give you an instance, i send you a letter i had from him a few days ago. how galling is it to the friend of paoli to be treated so! i have answered him in my own style; i will be myself.' _letters of boswell_, p. . in the following passage in one of his _hypochondriacks_ he certainly describes his father. 'i knew a father who was a violent whig, and used to attack his son for being a tory, upbraiding him with being deficient in "noble sentiments of liberty," while at the same time he made this son live under his roof in such bondage, that he was not only afraid to stir from home without leave, like a child, but durst scarcely open his mouth in his father's presence. this was sad living. yet i would rather see such an excess of awe than a degree of familiarity between father and son by which all reverence is destroyed.' _london mag_. , p. . [ ] boswell, the day after this talk, wrote:--'i have had a long letter from my father, full of affection and good counsel. honest man! he is now very happy: it is amazing to think how much he has had at heart, my pursuing the road of civil life.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] gray, says nicholls, 'disliked all poetry in blank verse, except milton.' gray's _works_, ed. , v. . goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_ (ch. xi.), wrote in :--'from a desire in the critic of grafting the spirit of ancient languages upon the english have proceeded of late several disagreeable instances of pedantry. among the number, i think, we may reckon blank verse. nothing but the greatest sublimity of subject can render such a measure pleasing; however, we now see it used upon the most trivial occasions.' on the same page he speaks of 'the tuneless flow of our blank verse.' see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_ and the beginning of , under _the life of milton_, for johnson's opinion of blank verse. [ ] 'johnson told me, that one day in london, when dr. adam smith was boasting of glasgow, he turned to him and said, "pray, sir, have you ever seen brentford?'" boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . see _post_, april , . [ ] 'he advised me to read just as inclination prompted me, which alone, he said, would do me any good; for i had better go into company than read a set task. he said, too, that i should prescribe to myself five hours a day, and in these hours gratify whatever literary desires may spring up.' _letters of boswell_, p. . the editor of these _letters_ compares tranio's advice:-- 'no profit grows where is no pleasure ta'en: in brief, sir, study what you most affect.' _taming of the shrew_, act i. sc. i. 'johnson used to say that no man read long together with a folio on his table. "books," said he, "that you may carry to the fire, and hold readily in your hand, are the most useful after all."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . see also _the idler_, no. , and _post_, april , , and under sept. , . [ ] wilkes, among others, had attacked him in aug. in _the north briton_, nos. xi. and xii. [ ] when i mentioned the same idle clamour to him several years afterwards, he said, with a smile, 'i wish my pension were twice as large, that they might make twice as much noise.' boswell. [ ] in one thing at least he was changed. he could now indulge in the full bent, to use his own words (_works_, viii. l ), 'that inquisitiveness which must always be produced in a vigorous mind, by an absolute freedom from all pressing or domestick engagements.' [ ] see _post_, april , , sept. and , , march , , and june , . lord shelburne says:--'after the revolution the tory and jacobite parties had become almost identified by their together opposing the court for so many years, and still more by the persecution which they suffered in common, for it was the policy of sir robert walpole to confound them as much as possible, so as to throw the jacobite odium upon every man who opposed government.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . lord bolingbroke (_works_, iii. ) complains that the writers on the side of the ministry 'frequently throw out that every man is a friend to the pretender who is not a friend of walpole.' [ ] see _post_, april , [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. [nov. ]. boswell. [ ] mr. walmsley died in (_ante_, p. ). johnson left lichfield in . unless mr. walmsley after visited london from time to time, he can scarcely be meant. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] he used to tell, with great humour, from my relation to him, the following little story of my early years, which was literally true: 'boswell, in the year , was a fine boy, wore a white cockade, and prayed for king james, till one of his uncles (general cochran) gave him a shilling on condition that he should pray for king george, which he accordingly did. so you see (says boswell) that _whigs of all ages are made the same way_.' boswell. johnson, in his _dictionary_ under _whiggism_, gives only one quotation, namely, from swift: 'i could quote passages from fifty pamphlets, wholly made up of whiggism and atheism.' see _post_, april , , where he said: 'i have always said, the first _whig_ was the devil;' and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. and nov. , . to johnson's sayings might be opposed one of lord chatham's in the house of lords: 'there are some distinctions which are inherent in the nature of things. there is a distinction between right and wrong--between whig and tory.' _parl. hist_. xvi. . [ ] _letter to rutland on travel_, mo. . boswell. this letter is contained in a little volume entitled, _profitable instructions; describing what special observations are to be taken by travellers in all nations, states and countries; pleasant and profitable. by the three much admired, robert, late earl of essex, sir philip sidney, and secretary davison. london. printed for benjamin fisher, at the sign of the talbot, without aldersgate_. . (lowndes gives the date of , but the earliest edition seems to be this of .) the letter from which boswell quotes is entitled, _the late e. of e. his advice to the e. of r. in his travels_. it is dated greenwich, jan. , . mr. spedding (bacon's _works_, ix. ) suggests that 'it may have been (wholly or in part) written by bacon.' [ ] boswell (_boswelliana_, p. ) says that this 'impudent fellow' was macpherson. [ ] boswell repeated this saying and some others to paoli. 'i felt an elation of mind to see paoli delighted with the sayings of mr. johnson, and to hear him translate them with italian energy to the corsican heroes.' here boswell describes the person as 'a certain authour.' boswell's _corsica_, p. [ ] boswell thus takes him off in his comic poem _the court of session garland_:-- '"this cause," cries hailes, "to judge i can't pretend, for _justice_, i percieve, wants an _e_ at the end."' mr. r. chambers, in a note on this, says:--'a story is told of lord hailes once making a serious objection to a law-paper, an in consequence to the whole suit, on account of the word _justice_ being thus spelt. _traditions of edinburgh_, ii. . burke says that he 'found him to be a clever man, and generally knowing.' burke's _corres_. iii. . see _ante_ p. , and _post_ may , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'ita feri ut se mori sentiat.' suetonius, _caligula_, chap. xxx. [ ] johnson himself was constantly purposing to keep a journal. on april , , he told boswell 'that he had twelve or fourteen times attempted to keep a journal of his life,' _post_, april , . the day before he had recorded:--'i hope from this time to keep a journal.' _pr. and med_. p. . like records follow, as:--'sept. , . my hope is, for resolution i dare no longer call it, to divide my time regularly, and to keep such a journal of my time, as may give me comfort in reviewing it.' _ib_. p. . 'april , . my purpose once more is to keep a journal.' _ib_. p. . 'jan. , . my hope is to keep a journal.' _ib_. p. . see also _post_, april , , and april , . [ ] boswell, when he was only eighteen, going with his father to the [scotch] northern circuit, 'kept,' he writes, 'an exact journal.' _letters of boswell_, p. . in the autumn of he also kept a journal which he sent to temple to read. _ib_. p. . [ ] 'it has been well observed, that the misery of man proceeds not from any single crush of overwhelming evil, but from small vexations continually repeated.' johnson's _works_, viii. . 'the main of life is indeed composed of small incidents and petty occurrences.' _ib_. ii. . dr. franklin (_memoirs_, i. ) says:--'human felicity is produced not so much by great pieces of good fortune that seldom happen as by little advantages that occur every day.' [ ] boswell wrote the next day:--'we sat till between two and three. he took me by the hand cordially, and said, "my dear boswell, i love you very much." now temple, can i help indulging vanity?' _letters of boswell_, p. . fourteen years later boswell was afraid that he kept johnson too late up. 'no, sir,' said he, 'i don't care though i sit all night with you.' _post_, sept. , . see also _post_, april , , where johnson, speaking of these early days, said to boswell, 'it was not the _wine_ that made your head ache, but the sense that i put into it.' [ ] tuesday was the th. [ ] 'the elder brother of the first lord rokeby, called long sir thomas robinson, on account of his height, and to distinguish him from sir thomas robinson, first lord grantham. it was on his request for an epigram that lord chesterfield made the distich:-- "unlike my subject will i make my song, it shall be witty, and it shan't be long," and to whom he said in his last illness, "ah, sir thomas, it will be sooner over with me than it would be with you, for i am dying by inches." lord chesterfield was very short.' croker. southey, writing of rokeby hall, which belonged to robinson, says that 'long sir thomas found a portrait of richardson in the house; thinking mr. richardson a very unfit personage to be suspended in effigy among lords, ladies, and baronets, he ordered the painter to put him on the star and blue riband, and then christened the picture sir robert walpole.' southey's _life_, iii. . see also _ante_, p. note , and _post_, , near the end of dr. maxwell's _collectanea_. [ ] johnson (_works_, vi. ) had written of frederick the great in :--'his skill in poetry and in the french language has been loudly praised by voltaire, a judge without exception if his honesty were equal to his knowledge.' boswell, in his _hypochondriacks_, records a conversation that he had with voltaire on memory:--'i asked him if he could give me any notion of the situation of our ideas which we have totally forgotten at the time, yet shall afterwards recollect. he paused, meditated a little, and acknowledged his ignorance in the spirit of a philosophical poet by repeating as a very happy allusion a passage in thomson's _seasons_--"aye," said he, "where sleep the winds when it is calm?"' _london mag_. , p. . the passage is in thomson's _winter_, l. :-- 'in what far-distant region of the sky, hush'd in deep silence, sleep ye when 'tis calm?' [ ] see _post_, ii. , note . [ ] bernard lintot, the father, published pope's _iliad_ and _odyssey_. over the sale of the _odyssey_ a quarrel arose between the two men. johnson's _works_, viii. , . lintot is attacked in the _dunciad_, i. and ii. ; he was high-sheriff for sussex in --the year of his death. _gent. mag_. vi. . the son is mentioned in johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] 'july , . i was with mr. johnson to-day. i was in his garret up four pair of stairs; it is very airy, commands a view of st. paul's and many a brick roof. he has many good books, but they are all lying in confusion and dust.' _letters of boswell_, p. . on good friday, , johnson made the following entry:--'i hope to put my rooms in order: disorder i have found one great cause of idleness.' on his birth-day in the same year he wrote:--'to-morrow i purpose to regulate my room.' _pr. and med_. pp. , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , and _post_, under sept. , . [ ] afterwards rector of mamhead, devonshire. he is the grandfather of the present bishop of london. he and boswell had been fellow-students at the university of edinburgh, and seemed in youth to have had an equal amount of conceit. 'recollect,' wrote boswell, 'how you and i flattered ourselves that we were to be the greatest men of our age.' _letters of boswell_, p. . they began to correspond at least as early as . the last letter was one from boswell on his death-bed. johnson thus mentions temple (_works_, viii. ):--'gray's character i am willing to adopt, as mr. mason has done, from a letter written to my friend mr. boswell by the revd. mr. temple, rector of st. gluvias in cornwall; and am as willing as his warmest well-wisher to believe it true.' [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) quotes the following by edmund smith, and written some time after :--'it will sound oddly to posterity, that, in a polite nation, in an enlightened age, under the direction of the most literary property in , whether by wise, most learned, and most generous encouragers of knowledge in the world, the property of a mechanick should be better secured than that of a scholar! that the poorest manual operations should be more valued than the noblest products of the brain! that it should be felony to rob a cobbler of a pair of shoes, and no crime to deprive the best authour of his whole subsistence! that nothing should make a man a sure title to his own writings but the stupidity of them!' see _post_, may , , and feb. , ; and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. and , . [ ] the question arose, after the passing of the first statute respecting literary property in , whether by certain of its provisions this perpetual copyright at common law was extinguished for the future. the question was solemnly argued before the court of king's bench, when lord mansfield presided, in . the result was a decision in favour of the common-law right as unaltered by the statute, with the disapproval however of mr. justice yates. in the same point was brought before the house of lords, and the decision of the court below reversed by a majority of six judges in eleven, as lord mansfield, who adhered to the opinion of the minority, declined to interfere; it being very unusual, from motives of delicacy, for a peer to support his own judgment on appeal to the house of lords. _penny cylco_. viii. i. see _post_, feb. , . lord shelburne, on feb , , humourously describes the scene in the lords to the earl of chatham:--'lord mansfield showed himself the merest captain bobadil that, i suppose, ever existed in real life. you can, perhaps, imagine to yourself the bishop of carlyle, an old metaphysical head of a college, reading a paper, not a speech, out of an old sermon book, with very bad sight leaning on the table, lord mansfield sitting at it, with eyes of fixed melancholy looking at him, knowing that the bishop's were the only eyes in the house who could not meet his; the judges behind him, full of rage at being drawn into so absurd an opinion, and abandoned in it by their chief; the bishops waking, as your lordship knows they do, just before they vote, and staring on finding something the matter; while lord townshend was close to the bar, getting mr. dunning to put up his glass to look at the head of criminal justice.' _chatham corres_. iv. . [ ] see _post_ april , note. [ ] dr. franklin (_memoirs_ iii. ), complaining of the high prices of english books, describes 'the excessive artifices made use of to puff up a paper of verses into a pamphlet, a pamphlet into an octavo, and an octavo into a quarto with white-lines, exorbitant margins, &c., to such a degree that the selling of paper seems now the object, and printing on it only the pretence.' [ ] boswell was on friendly terms with him. he wrote to erskine on dec. , :--'i am just now returned from eating a most excellent pig with the most magnificent donaldson.' _boswell and erskine correspondence_, p. . [ ] dr. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says that lord mansfield this year ( ) 'talking of hume and robertson's _histories_, said that though he could point out few or no faults in them, yet, when he was reading their books, he did not think he was reading english.' see _post_, ii. , for hume's scotticisms. hume went to france in when he was years old and stayed there three years. hume's _autobiography_, p. vii. he never mastered french colloquially. lord charlemont, who met him in turin in , says:--'his speech in english was rendered ridiculous by the broadest scotch accent, and his french was, if possible, still more laughable.' hardy's _charlemont_, i. . horace walpole, who met him in paris in , writes (_letters_, iv. ):--'mr. hume is the only thing in the world that they [the french] believe implicitly; which they must do, for i defy them to understand any language that he speaks.' gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) says of hume's writings:--'their careless inimitable beauties often forced me to close the volume with a mixed sensation of delight and despair.' dr. beattie (_life_, p. ) wrote on jan. , :--'we who live in scotland are obliged to study english from books, like a dead language, which we understand, but cannot speak.' he adds:--'i have spent some years in labouring to acquire the art of giving a vernacular cast to the english we write.' dr. a. carlyle (_auto_, p. ) says:--'since we began to affect speaking a foreign language, which the english dialect is to us, humour, it must be confessed, is less apparent in conversation.' [ ] _discours sur l'origine et les fondemens de l'inégalité parmi les hommes_, . [ ] 'i have indeed myself observed that my banker ever bows lowest to me when i wear my full-bottomed wig, and writes me mr. or esq., accordingly as he sees me dressed.' _spectator_, no. . [ ] mr. croker, quoting mr. wright, says:--'_see his quantulumanque_ (sic) _concerning money_.' i have read petty's _quantulumcunque_, but do not find the passage in it. [ ] johnson told dr. burney that goldsmith said, when he first began to write, he determined to commit to paper nothing but what was _new_; but he afterwards found that what was _new_ was false, and from that time was no longer solicitous about novelty. burney. mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, i. ) says that this note 'is another instance of the many various and doubtful forms in which stories about johnson and goldsmith are apt to appear when once we lose sight of the trustworthy boswell. this is obviously a mere confused recollection of what is correctly told by boswell [_post_, march , ].' there is much truth in mr. forster's general remark: nevertheless burney likely enough repeated to the best of his memory what he had himself heard from johnson. [ ] 'their [the ancient moralists'] arguments have been, indeed, so unsuccessful, that i know not whether it can be shewn, that by all the wit and reason which this favourite cause has called forth a single convert was ever made; that even one man has refused to be rich, when to be rich was in his power, from the conviction of the greater happiness of a narrow fortune.' johnson's _works_, ii. . see _post_, june , , and june , sept. , and dec. , . [ ] johnson (_works_, vi. ) shows how much frederick owed to 'the difficulties of his youth.' 'kings, without this help from temporary infelicity, see the world in a mist, which magnifies everything near them, and bounds their view to a narrow compass, which few are able to extend by the mere force of curiosity.' he next points out what cromwell 'owed to the private condition in which he first entered the world;' and continues:--'the king of prussia brought to the throne the knowledge of a private man, without the guilt of usurpation. of this general acquaintance with the world there may be found some traces in his whole life. his conversation is like that of other men upon common topicks, his letters have an air of familiar elegance, and his whole conduct is that of a man who has to do with men.' [ ] see _ante_ p. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] that this was mr. dempster seems likely from the _letters of boswell_ (p. ), where boswell says:--'i had prodigious satisfaction to find dempster's sophistry (which he has learnt from hume and rousseau) vanquished by the solid sense and vigorous reasoning of johnson. dempster,' he continues, 'was as happy as a vanquished argumentator could be.' the character of the 'benevolent good man' suits dempster (see _post_, under feb. , , where boswell calls him 'the virtuous and candid dempster'), while that of the 'noted infidel writer' suits hume. we find boswell, johnson, and dempster again dining together on may , . [ ] 'thou wilt at best but suck a bull, or sheer swine, all cry and no wool.' _hudibras_, part i. canto i. . . dr. z. grey, in his note on these lines, quotes the proverbial saying 'as wise as the waltham calf that went nine times to suck a bull.' he quotes also from _the spectator_, no. , the passage where the cynic said of two disputants, 'one of these fellows is milking a ram, and the other holds the pail.' [ ] the writer of the article _vacuum_ in the _penny cyclo_. (xxvi. ), quoting johnson's words, adds:--'that is, either all space is full of matter, or there are parts of space which have no matter. the alternative is undeniable, and the inference to which the modern philosophy would give the greatest probablility is, that all space is full of matter in the common sense of the word, but really occupied by particles of matter with vacuous interstices.' [ ] 'when any one tells me that he saw a dead man restored to life, i immediately consider with myself, whether it be more probable that this person should either deceive or be deceived, or that the fact which he relates should really have happened.' humes _essay on miracles_, part i. see _post_ sept. , where boswell again quoted this passage. [ ] a coffee-house over against catherine street, now the site of a tourists' ticket office. _athenaeum_, no. . [ ] stockdale records (_memoirs_, i. ) that johnson once said to him:--'whenever it is the duty of a young and old man to act at the same time with a spirit of independence and generosity; we may always have reason to hope that the young man will ardently perform, and to fear that the old man will desert, his duty.' [ ] boswell thus writes of this evening:--'i learn more from him than from any man i ever was with. he told me a very odd thing, that he knew at eighteen as much as he does now; that is to say, his judgment is much stronger, but he had then stored up almost all the facts he has now, and he says that he has led but an idle life; only think, temple, of that!' _letters of boswell_, p. . see _ante_, p. , and _post_, ii. . he told windham in 'that he read latin with as much ease when he went to college as at present.' windham's _diary_, p. . [ ] johnson in wrote of 'those distempers and depressions, from which students, not well acquainted with the constitution of the human body, sometimes fly for relief to wine instead of exercise, and purchase temporary ease, by the hazard of the most dreadful consequences.' _works_, vi. . in _the rambler_, no. , he says:--'how much happiness is gained, and how much misery is escaped, by frequent and violent agitation of the body.' boswell records (_hebrides_, sept. , ):--'dr. johnson told us at breakfast, that he rode harder at a fox-chace than anybody.' mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'he certainly rode on mr. thrale's old hunter with a good firmness, and, though he would follow the hounds fifty miles an end sometimes, would never own himself either tired or amused. i think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as when mr. hamilton called out one day upon brighthelmstone downs, "why johnson rides as well, for aught i see, as the most illiterate fellow in england."' he wrote to mrs. thrale in :--'no season ever was finer. barley, malt, beer and money. there is the series of ideas. the deep logicians call it a _sorites_. _i hope my master will no longer endure the reproach of not keeping me a horse_.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, march and , , sept. , , and nov. , . [ ] this _one_ mrs. macaulay was the same personage who afterwards made herself so much known as 'the celebrated female historian.' boswell. hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) tells the following story of mrs. macaulay's daughter:--'desirous from civility to take some notice of her, and finding she was reading _shakespeare_, i asked her if she was not delighted with many parts of _king john_. "i never read the _kings_, ma'am," was the truly characteristic reply.' see _post_, april , , and may , . [ ] this speech was perhaps suggested to johnson by the following passage in _the government of the tongue_ (p. )--a book which he quotes in his _dictionary_:--'lycurgus once said to one who importuned him to establish a popular parity in the state, "do thou," says he, "begin it first in thine own family."' [ ] the first volume was published in , the second in . [ ] warton, to use his own words, 'did not think pope at the head of his profession. in other words, in that species of poetry wherein pope excelled, he is superior to all mankind; and i only say that this species of poetry is not the most excellent one of the art.' he disposes the english poets in four classes, placing in the first only spenser, shakespeare, and milton. 'in the second class should be ranked such as possessed the true poetical genius in a more moderate degree, but who had noble talents for moral, ethical, and panegyrical poetry.' in this class, in his concluding volume, he says, 'we may venture to assign pope a place, just above dryden. yet, to bring our minds steadily to make this decision, we must forget, for a moment, the divine _music ode of dryden_; and may, perhaps, then be compelled to confess that though dryden be the greater genius, yet pope is the better artist.' warton's _essay_, i. i, vii. and ii. . see _post_, march , . [ ] mr. croker believes joseph warton was meant. his father, however, had been fellow of magdalen college, oxford, and was afterwards vicar of basingstoke and cobham, and professor of poetry in his own university, so that the son could scarcely be described as being 'originally poor.' it is, no doubt, after boswell's fashion to introduce in consecutive paragraphs the same person once by name and once anonymously; but then the 'certain author who disgusted boswell by his forwardness,' mentioned just before warton, may be warton himself. [ ] 'when he arrived at eton he could not make a verse; that is, he wanted a point indispensable with us to a certain rank in our system. but this wonderful boy, having satisfied the master [dr. barnard] that he was an admirable scholar, and possessed of genius, was at once placed at the head of a form. he acquired the rules of latin verse; tried his powers; and perceiving that he could not rise above his rivals in virgil, ovid, or the lyric of horace, he took up the _sermoni propiora_, and there overshadowed all competitors. in the following lines he describes the hammer of the auctioneer with a mock sublimity which turns horace into virgil:-- 'jam-jamque cadit, celerique recursu erigitur, lapsum retrahens, perque aera nutat.' nichols's _lit. anec_. viii. . horace walpole wrote of him in sept. (_letters_, iv. ):--'he is a very extraordinary young man for variety of learning. he is rather too wise for his age, and too fond of showing it; but when he has seen more of the world, he will choose to know less.' he died at rome in the following year. hume, on hearing the news, wrote to adam smith:--'were you and i together, dear smith, we should shed tears at present for the death of poor sir james macdonald. we could not possibly have suffered a greater loss than in that valuable young man.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] boswell says that macdonald had for johnson 'a _great_ terrour.' (_boswelliana_, p. .) northcote (_life of reynolds_, i. ) says:--'it is a fact that a certain nobleman, an intimate friend of reynolds, had strangely conceived in his mind such a formidable idea of all those persons who had gained great fame as literary characters, that i have heard sir joshua say, he verily believed he could no more have prevailed upon this noble person to dine at the same table with johnson and goldsmith than with two tigers.' according to mr. seward (_biographiana_, p. ), mrs. cotterell having one day asked dr. johnson to introduce her to a celebrated writer, 'dearest madam,' said he, 'you had better let it alone; the best part of every author is in general to be found in his book, i assure you.' mr. seward refers to _the rambler_, no. , where johnson says that 'there has often been observed a manifest and striking contrariety between the life of an authour and his writings.' [ ] see _post_, jan. , . in his _hebrides_ (p. i) boswell writes:--'when i was at ferney, in , i mentioned our design to voltaire. he looked at me as if i had talked of going to the north pole, and said, "you do not insist on my accompanying you?" "no, sir." "then i am very willing you should go."' [ ] 'when he went through the streets he desired to have one to lead him by the hand. they asked his opinion of the high church. he answered that it was a large rock, yet there were some in st. kilda much higher, but that these were the best caves he ever saw; for that was the idea which he conceived of the pillars and arches upon which the church stands.' m. martin's _western isles_, p. . mr. croker compares the passage in _the spectator_ (no. ), in which an indian king is made to say of st. paul's:--'it was probably at first an huge misshapen rock that grew upon the top of the hill, which the natives of the country (after having cut it into a kind of regular figure) bored and hollowed with incredible pains and industry.' [ ] boswell, writing to temple the next day, slightly varies these words:--'he said, "my dear boswell, it would give me great pain to part with you, if i thought we were not to meet again."' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) protests against 'the trite and lavish praise of the happiness of our boyish years, which is echoed with so much affectation in the world. that happiness i have never known, that time i have never regretted. the poet may gaily describe the short hours of recreation; but he forgets the daily tedious labours of the school, which is approached each morning with anxious and reluctant steps.' see _ante_, p. , and _post_, under feb. , . [ ] about fame gibbon felt much as johnson did. 'i am disgusted,' he wrote (_ib_. ), 'with the affectation of men of letters, who complain that they have renounced a substance for a shadow, and that their fame (which sometimes is no insupportable weight) affords a poor compensation for envy, censure, and persecution. my own experience, at least, has taught me a very different lesson; twenty happy years have been animated by the labour of my _history_, and its success has given me a name, a rank, a character, in the world, to which i should not otherwise have been entitled.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] this opinion was given by him more at large at a subsequent period. see _journal of a tour of the hebrides_, rd edit. p. [aug. ]. boswell. 'that swift was its author, though it be universally believed, was never owned by himself, nor very well proved by any evidence; but no other claimant can be produced, and he did not deny it when archbishop sharpe and the duchess of somerset, by showing it to the queen, debarred him from a bishoprick.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see also _post_, march , . stockdale records (_memoirs_, ii. ) that johnson said 'that if swift really was the author of _the tale of the tub_, as the best of his other performances were of a very inferior merit, he should have hanged himself after he had written it.' scott (_life of swift_, ed. , p. ) says:--'mrs. whiteway observed the dean, in the latter years of his life [in ], looking over the _tale_, when suddenly closing the book he muttered, in an unconscious soliloquy, "good god! what a genius i had when i wrote that book!" she begged it of him, who made some excuse at the moment; but on her birthday he presented her with it inscribed, "from her affectionate cousin." on observing the inscription, she ventured to say, "i wish, sir, you had said the gift of the author!" the dean bowed, smiled good-humouredly, and answered, "no, i thank you," in a very significant manner.' there is this to be said of johnson's incredulity about the _tale of a tub_, that the _history of john bull_ and the _memoirs of martinus scriblerus_, though both by arbuthnot, were commonly assigned to swift and are printed in his _works_. [ ] 'thomson thinks in a peculiar train, and he thinks always as a man of genius; he looks round on nature and on life with the eye which nature bestows only on a poet;--the eye that distinguishes in everything presented to its view whatever there is on which imagination can delight to be detained, and with a mind that at once comprehends the vast, and attends to the minute.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_, ii. , and april , . [ ] burke seems to be meant. see _post_, april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , and sept. , .--it is strange however that, while in these three places boswell mentions burke's name, he should leave a blank here. in _boswelliana_, p. , boswell records:--'langton said burke hammered his wit upon an anvil, and the iron was cold. there were no sparks flashing and flying all about.' [ ] in _boswelliana_ (p. ) this anecdote is thus given:--'boswell was talking to mr. samuel johnson of mr. sheridan's enthusiasm for the advancement of eloquence. "sir," said mr. johnson, "it won't do. he cannot carry through his scheme. he is like a man attempting to stride the english channel. sir, the cause bears no proportion to the effect. it is setting up a candle at whitechapel to give light at westminster."' see also _ante_, p. , and _post_. oct. , , april and may , . [ ] most likely boswell himself. see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'let a frenchman talk twice with a minister of state, he desires no more to furnish out a volume.' swift's _works_, ed. , xvi. . lord chesterfield wrote from paris in :--'they [the parisians] despise us, and with reason, for our ill-breeding; on the other hand, we despite them for their want of learning, and we are in the right of it.' _supplement to chesterfield's letters_, p. . see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] 'dr. johnson said that he had been told by an acquaintance of sir isaac newton, that in early life he started as a clamorous infidel.' seward's _anecdotes_, ii. . in brewster's _life of newton_ i find no mention of early infidelity. on the contrary, newton had been described as one who 'had been a searcher of the scriptures from his youth' (ii. ). brewster says that 'some foreign writers have endeavoured to shew that his theological writings were composed at a late period of life, when his mind was in its dotage.' it was not so, however. _ib_. p. . [ ] i fully intended to have followed advice of such weight; but having staid much longer both in germany and italy than i proposed to do, and having also visited corsica, i found that i had exceeded the time allowed me by my father, and hastened to france in my way homewards. boswell. see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'has heaven reserved, in pity to the poor, no pathless waste, or undiscovered shore? no secret island in the boundless main? no peaceful desert, yet unclaimed by spain?' johnson looked upon the discovery of america as a misfortune to mankind. in _taxation no tyranny_ (_works_, vi. ) he says that 'no part of the world has yet had reason to rejoice that columbus found at last reception and employment. in the same year, in a year hitherto disastrous to mankind, by the portuguese was discovered the passage of the indies, and by the spaniards the coast of america.' on march , , he wrote (croker's _boswell_, p. ):--'i do not much wish well to discoveries, for i am always afraid they will end in conquest and robbery.' see _ante_, p. , note , and post, march , , and under dec. , . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] _letters written from leverpoole, chester, corke, &c.,_ by samuel derrick, . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides, rd ed. p. [aug. , ]. boswell. [ ] ibid. p. [ , sept. , ]. boswell. johnson added:--'but it was nothing.' derrick, in , published dryden's _misc. works_, with an _account of his life_. [ ] he published a biographical work, containing an account of eminent writers, in three vols. vo. boswell. [ ] 'thus the soft gifts of sleep conclude the day, and stretched on bulks, as usual, poets lay.' _the dunciad_, ii. . in _humphry clinker_, in the letter of june , in which is described the dinner given by s---- to the poor authors, of one of them it is said:--'the only secret which he ever kept was the place of his lodgings; but it was believed that during the heats of summer he commonly took his repose upon a bulk.' johnson defines _bulk_ as _a part of a building jutting out_. [ ] 'knowledge is certainly one of the means of pleasure, as is confessed by the natural desire which every mind feels of increasing its ideas ... without knowing why we always rejoice when we learn, and grieve when we forget.' _rasselas_, ch. xi. [ ] in the days of old london bridge, as mr. croker points out, even when the tide would have allowed passengers to shoot it, those who were prudent landed above the bridge, and walked to some wharf below it. [ ] all who are acquainted with the history of religion, (the most important, surely, that concerns the human mind,) know that the appellation of methodists was first given to a society of students in the university of oxford, who about the year were distinguished by an earnest and _methodical_ attention to devout exercises. this disposition of mind is not a novelty, or peculiar to any sect, but has been, and still may be found, in many christians of every denomination. johnson himself was, in a dignified manner, a methodist. in his _rambler_, no. , he mentions with respect 'the whole discipline of regulated piety;' and in his _prayers and meditations_, many instances occur of his anxious examination into his spiritual state. that this religious earnestness, and in particular an observation of the influence of the holy spirit, has sometimes degenerated into folly, and sometimes been counterfeited for base purposes, cannot be denied. but it is not, therefore, fair to decry it when genuine. the principal argument in reason and good sense against methodism is, that it tends to debase human nature, and prevent the generous exertions of goodness, by an unworthy supposition that god will pay no regard to them; although it is positively said in the scriptures that he 'will reward every man according to his works.' [st. matthew xvi. .] but i am happy to have it [in] my power to do justice to those whom it is the fashion to ridicule, without any knowledge of their tenets; and this i can do by quoting a passage from one of their best apologists, mr. milner, who thus expresses their doctrine upon this subject. 'justified by faith, renewed in his faculties, and constrained by the love of christ, their believer moves in the sphere of love and gratitude, and all his _duties_ flow more or less from this principle. and though _they are accumulating for him in heaven a treasure of bliss proportioned to his faithfulness and activity, and it is by no means inconsistent with his principles to feel the force of this consideration_, yet love itself sweetens every duty to his mind; and he thinks there is no absurdity in his feeling the love of god as the grand commanding principle of his life.' _essays on several religious subjects, &c., by joseph milner, a.m., master of the grammar school of kingston upon-hull, , p_. . boswell. southey (_life of wesley_, i. ), mentioning the names given at oxford to wesley and his followers, continues:--'one person with less irreverence and more learning observed, in reference to their methodical manner of life, that a new sect of methodists was sprung up, alluding to the ancient school of physicians known by that name.' wesley, in , wrote _the humble address to the king of the societies in derision called methodists. journal_, i. . he often speaks of 'the people called methodists,' but sometimes he uses the term without any qualification. mrs. thrale, in , wrote to johnson:--'methodist is considered always a term of reproach, i trust, because i never yet did hear that any one person called himself a methodist.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] wesley said:--'we should constantly use the most common, little, easy words (so they are pure and proper) which our language affords. when first i talked at oxford to plain people in the castle [the prison] or the town, i observed they gaped and stared. this quickly obliged me to alter my style, and adopt the language of those i spoke to; and yet there is a dignity in their simplicity, which is not disagreeable to those of the highest rank.' southey's _wesley_, i. . see _post_, , in dr. maxwell's _collectanea_, oct. , , aug. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] in the original, _struck_. [ ] _epigram_, lib. ii. 'in elizabeth. angliae reg.' malone. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] virgil, _eclogues_, i. . johnson, when a boy, turned the line thus:--'and the wood rings with amarillis' name.' _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell said of paoli's talk about great men:--'i regret that the fire with which he spoke upon such occasions so dazzled me, that i could not recollect his sayings, so as to write them down when i retired from his presence.' _corsica_, p. . [ ] more passages than one in boswell's _letters to temple_ shew this absence of relish. thus in he writes:--'i perceive some dawnings of taste for the country' (p. ); and again:--'i will force a taste for natural beauties' (p. ). [ ] milton's _l'allegro_, . . [ ] see _post_, april , , and april , . [ ] my friend sir michael le fleming. this gentleman, with all his experience of sprightly and elegant life, inherits, with the beautiful family domain, no inconsiderable share of that love of literature, which distinguished his venerable grandfather, the bishop of carlisle. he one day observed to me, of dr. johnson, in a felicity of phrase, 'there is a blunt dignity about him on every occasion.' boswell. [ ] wordsworth's lines to the baronet's daughter, lady fleming, might be applied to the father:-- 'lives there a man whose sole delights are trivial pomp and city noise, hardening a heart that loathes or slights what every natural heart enjoys?' wordsworth's _poems_, iv. . [ ] afterwards lord stowell. he was a member of doctors' commons, the college of civilians in london, who practised in the ecclesiastical courts and the court of the admiralty. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] he repeated this advice on the death of boswell's father, _post_, sept. , . [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) describes 'the sullen dignity of the old castle.' see also boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . . [ ] probably burke's _vindication of natural society_, published in when burke was twenty-six. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on july , :--'my departure fills me with a kind of gloom that quite overshadows my mind. i could almost weep to think of leaving dear london, and the calm retirement of the inner temple. this is very effeminate and very young, but i cannot help it.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] mrs. piozzi says (_anec_. p. ) that 'johnson's eyes were so wild, so piercing, and at times so fierce, that fear was, i believe, the first emotion in the hearts of all his beholders.' [ ] johnson was, in fact, the editor of this work, as appears from a letter of mr. t. davies to the rev. edm. bettesworth:--'reverend sir,--i take the liberty to send you roger ascham's works in english. though mr. bennet's name is in the title, the editor was in reality mr. johnson, the author of the _rambler_, who wrote the life of the author, and added several notes. mr. johnson gave it to mr. bennet, for his advantage,' &c.--croker. very likely davies exaggerated johnson's share in the book. bennet's edition was published, not in , but in . [ ] 'lord sheffield describes the change in gibbon's opinions caused by the reign of terror:--'he became a warm and zealous advocate for every sort of old establishment. i recollect in a circle where french affairs were the topic and some portuguese present, he, seemingly with seriousness, argued in favour of the inquisition at lisbon, and said he would not, at the present moment, give up even that old establishment.' _gibbons's misc. works_, i. . one of gibbon's correspondents told him in , that the _wealth of nations_ had been condemned by the inquisition on account of 'the lowness of its style and the looseness of the morals which it inculcates.' _ib_. ii. . see also _post_, may , . [ ] johnson wrote on aug. , :--'this morning i saw at breakfast dr. blacklock, the blind poet, who does not remember to have seen light, and is read to by a poor scholar in latin, greek, and french. he was originally a poor scholar himself. i looked on him with reverence.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see also boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . spence published an _account of blacklock_, in which he meanly omitted any mention of hume's great generosity to the blind poet. j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . hume asked blacklock whether he connected colour and sound. 'he answered, that as he met so often with the terms expressing colours, he had formed some false associations, but that they were of the intellectual kind. the illumination of the sun, for instance, he supposed to resemble the presence of a friend.' _ib_. p. . [ ] they left london early and yet they travelled only miles that day. the whole distance to harwich is miles. paterson's _itinerary_, i. . [ ] mackintosh (_life_, ii. ) writing of the time of william iii, says that 'torture was legal in scotland, and familiar in every country of europe but england. was there a single writer at that time who had objected to torture? i think not.' in the _gent. mag_. for (p. ) it is stated that 'the king of prussia has forbid the use of torture in his dominions.' in (p. ) we read that dr. blackwell, an english physician, had been put to the torture in sweden. montesquieu in the _esprit des lois_, vi. , published in , writing of 'la question ou torture centre les criminels,' says:--'nous voyons aujourd'hui une nation très-bien policée [la nation anglaise] la rejeter sans inconvénient. elle n'est donc pas nécessaire par sa nature.' boswell in found that paoli tortured a criminal with fire. _corsica_, p. . voltaire, in , after telling how innocent men had been put to death with torture in the reign of lewis xiv, continues--'mais un roi a-t-il le temps de songer à ces menus details d'horreurs au milieu de ses fètes, de ses conquêtes, et de ses mattresses? daignez vous en occuper, ô louis xvi, vous qui n'avez aucune de ces distractions!' voltaire's _works_, xxvi. . johnson, two years before voltaire thus wrote, had been shown _la chambre de question_--the torture-chamber-_in paris_. _post_, oct. , . it was not till the revolution that torture was abolished in france. one of the scotch judges in , at the trial of messrs. palmer and muir for sedition (_post_, june , , note), 'asserted that now the torture was banished, there was no adequate punishment for sedition.' _parl. hist_. xxx. . [ ] 'a cheerful and good heart will have a care of his meat and drink.' _ecclesiasticus_, xxx. . 'verecundari neminem apud mensam decet, nam ibi de divinis atque humanis cernitur.' _trinummus_, act , sc. . mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) records that 'johnson often said, "that wherever the dinner is ill got, there is poverty, or there is avarice, or there is stupidity; in short, the family is somehow grossly wrong; for," continued he, "a man seldom thinks with more earnestness of anything than he does of his dinner; and if he cannot get that well dressed, he should be suspected of inaccuracy in other things."' yet he 'used to say that a man who rode out for an appetite consulted but little the dignity of human nature.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] this essay is more against the practices of the parasite than gulosity. it is entitled _the art of living at the cost of others_. johnson wrote to one of mrs. thrale's children:--'gluttony is, i think, less common among women than among men. women commonly eat more sparingly, and are less curious in the choice of meat; but if once you find a woman gluttonous, expect from her very little virtue. her mind is enslaved to the lowest and grossest temptation.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) mentions 'the greediness with which he ate, his total inattention to those among whom he was seated, and his profound silence at the moment of refection.' [ ] cumberland (_memoirs_, i. ) says:--'he fed heartily, but not voraciously, and was extremely courteous in his commendations of any dish that pleased his palate.' [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on july , :--'last week i saw flesh but twice and i think fish once; the rest was pease. you are afraid, you say, lest i extenuate myself too fast, and are an enemy to violence; but did you never hear nor read, dear madam, that every man has his _genius_, and that the great rule by which all excellence is attained and all success procured, is to follow _genius_; and have you not observed in all our conversations that my _genius_ is always in extremes; that i am very noisy or very silent; very gloomy or very merry; very sour or very kind? and would you have me cross my _genius_ when it leads me sometimes to voracity and sometimes to abstinence?' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'this,' he told boswell, 'was no intentional fasting, but happened just in the course of a literary life.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . see _post_, april , . [ ] in the last year of his life, when he knew that his appetite was diseased, he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'i have now an inclination to luxury which even your table did not excite; _for till now my talk was more about the dishes than my thoughts_. i remember you commended me for seeming pleased with my dinners when you had reduced your table; i am able to tell you with great veracity, that i never knew when the reduction began, nor should have known what it was made, had not you told me. _i now think and consult to-day what i shall eat to-morrow. this disease will, i hope, be cured_.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] johnson's visit to gordon and maclaurin are just mentioned in boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. , . [ ] the only nobleman with whom he dined 'about the same time' was lord elibank. after dining with him, 'he supped,' says boswell, 'with my wife and myself.' _ib_. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says, 'johnson's own notions about eating were nothing less than delicate; a leg of pork boiled till it dropped from the bone, a veal-pie with plums and sugar, or the outside cut of a salt buttock of beef were his favourite dainties.' cradock saw burke at a tavern dinner send johnson a very small piece of a pie, the crust of which was made with bad butter. 'johnson soon returned his plate for more. burke exclaimed:--"i am glad that you are able so well to relish this pie." johnson, not at all pleased that what he ate should ever be noticed, retorted:--"there is a time of life, sir, when a man requires the repairs of a table."' cradock's _memoirs_, i. . a passage in baretti's _italy_, ii. , seems to show that english eating in general was not delicate. 'i once heard a frenchman swear,' he writes, 'that he hated the english, "parce qu'ils versent du beurre fondu sur leur veau rod."' [ ] 'he had an abhorrence of affectation,' said mr. langton. _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] at college he would not let his companions say _prodigious_. _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, sept. , , and in mr. langton's _collection_. dugald stewart quotes a saying of turgot:--'he who had never doubted of the existence of matter might be assured he had no turn for metaphysical disquisitions.' _life of reid_, p. . [ ] claude buffier, born , died . author of _traité despremières vérités et de la source de nos jugements_. [ ] 'not when a gilt buffet's reflected pride turns you from sound philosophy aside.' pope's _satires_, ii. . [ ] mackintosh (_life_, i. ) said that 'burke's treatise on the _sublime and beautiful_ is rather a proof that his mind was not formed for pure philosophy; and if we may believe boswell that it was once the intention of mr. burke to have written against berkeley, we may be assured that he would not have been successful in answering that great speculator; or, to speak more correctly, that he could not have discovered the true nature of the questions in dispute, and thus have afforded the only answer consistent with the limits of the human faculties.' [ ] goldsmith's _retaliation_. [ ] i have the following autograph letter written by johnson to dr. taylor three weeks after boswell's departure. 'dear sir, 'having with some impatience reckoned upon hearing from you these two last posts, and been disappointed, i can form to myself no reason for the omission but your perturbation of mind, or disorder of body arising from it, and therefore i once more advise removal from ashbourne as the proper remedy both for the cause and the effect. 'you perhaps ask, whither should i go? any whither where your case is not known, and where your presence will cause neither looks nor whispers. where you are the necessary subject of common talk, you will not safely be at rest. 'if you cannot conveniently write to me yourself let somebody write for you to 'dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'sam. johnson. 'august , . 'to the reverend dr. taylor in ashbourne, derbyshire.' five other letters on the same subject are given in _notes and queries_, th s. v. pp. , , . taylor and his wife 'never lived very well together' (p. ), and at last she left him. on may nd of the next year johnson congratulated taylor 'upon the happy end of so vexatious an affair, the happyest [sic] that could be next to reformation and reconcilement' (p. ). taylor did not follow the advice to leave ashbourne; for on sept. johnson wrote to him:--'you seem to be so well pleased to be where you are, that i shall not now press your removal; but do not believe that every one who rails at your wife wishes well to you. a small country town is not the place in which one would chuse to quarrel with a wife; every human being in such places is a spy.' _ib_. p. . [ ] according to mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) he was accompanied by his black servant frank. 'i must have you know, ladies,' said he, 'that frank has carried the empire of cupid further than most men. when i was in lincolnshire so many years ago he attended me thither; and when we returned home together, i found that a female haymaker had followed him to london for love.' if this story is generally true, it bears the mark of mrs. piozzi's usual inaccuracy. the visit was paid early in the year, and was over in february; what haymakers were there at that season? [ ] boswell by his quotation marks refers, i think, to his _hebrides_, oct. , , where johnson says:--'nobody, at times, talks more laxly than i do.' see also _post_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, april , , for old mr. langton's slowness of understanding. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] mr. best (_memorials_, p. ) thus writes of a visit to langton:--'we walked to the top of a very steep hill behind the house. langton said, "poor dear dr. johnson, when he came to this spot, turned back to look down the hill, and said he was determined to take a roll down. when we understood what he meant to do, we endeavoured to dissuade him; but he was resolute, saying, he had not had a roll for a long time; and taking out of his lesser pockets whatever might be in them, and laying himself parallel with the edge of the hill, he actually descended, turning himself over and over till he came to the bottom." this story was told with such gravity, and with an air of such affectionate remembrance of a departed friend, that it was impossible to suppose this extraordinary freak an invention of mr. langton.' it must have been in the winter that he had this roll. [ ] boswell himself so calls it in a mr. letter to temple written three or four months after garrick's death, _letters of boswell_, p. . see also boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] malone says:--'reynolds was the original founder of our literary club about the year , the first thought of which he started to dr. johnson at his own fireside.' prior's _malone_, p. . mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'johnson called reynolds their romulus, or said somebody else of the company called him so, which was more likely.' according to hawkins (_life_, p. ) the club was founded in the winter of , i.e. - . [ ] dr. nugent, a physician, was burke's father-in-law. macaulay (_essays_, i. ) says:--'as we close boswell's book, the club-room is before us, and the table on which stands the omelet for nugent, and the lemons for johnson.' it was from mrs. piozzi that macaulay learnt of the omelet. nugent was a roman catholic, and it was on friday that the club before long came to meet. we may assume that he would not on that day eat meat. 'i fancy,' mrs. piozzi writes (_anec_. p. ), 'dr. nugent ordered an omelet sometimes on a friday or saturday night; for i remember mr. johnson felt very painful sensations at the sight of that dish soon after his death, and cried:--"ah my poor dear friend! i shall never eat omelet with _thee_ again!" quite in an agony.' dr. nugent, in the imaginary college at st. andrews, was to be the professor of physic. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] mr. andrew chamier was of huguenot descent, and had been a stock-broker. he was a man of liberal education. 'he acquired such a fortune as enabled him, though young, to quit business, and become, what indeed he seemed by nature intended for, a gentleman.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . in he was secretary in the war office. in he was appointed under secretary of state. forster's _goldsmith_, i. . he was to be the professor of commercial politics in the imaginary college. johnson passed one of his birth-days at his house; _post_, under sept. , , note. [ ] 'it was johnson's intention,' writes hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'that their number should not exceed nine.' nine was the number of the ivy lane club (_ante_, p. ). johnson, i suppose, looked upon nine as the most _clubable_ number. 'it was intended,' says dr. percy, 'that if only two of these chanced to meet for the evening, they should be able to entertain each other.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . hawkins adds that 'mr. dyer (_post_, in mr. langton's _collection_), a member of the ivy lane club, who for some years had been abroad, made his appearance among us, and was cordially received.' according to dr. percy, by not only had hawkins formally withdrawn, but beauclerk had forsaken the club for more fashionable ones. 'upon this the club agreed to increase their number to twelve; every new member was to be elected by ballot, and one black ball was sufficient for exclusion. mr. beauclerk then desired to be restored to the society, and the following new members were introduced on monday, feb. , ; sir r. chambers, dr. percy and mr. colman.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . in the list in croker's _boswell_, ed. , ii. , the election of percy and chambers is placed in . [ ] boswell wrote on april , :--'i dine, friday, at the turk's head, gerrard-street, with our club, sir joshua reynolds, etc., who now dine once a month, and sup every friday.' _letters of boswell_, p. . in , monday was the night of meeting. _post_, may , . in dec. the night was changed to friday. goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . hawkins says (_life_, pp. , ):--'we seldom got together till nine; preparing supper took up till ten; and by the time that the table was cleared, it was near eleven. our evening toast was the motto of padre paolo, _esto perpetua! esto perpetua_ was being soon not padre paolo's motto, but his dying prayer. 'as his end evidently approached, the brethren of the convent came to pronounce the last prayers, with which he could only join in his thoughts, being able to pronounce no more than these words, "_esto perpetua_" mayst thou last for ever; which was understood to be a prayer for the prosperity of his country.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'after it removed to prince's in sackville-street, and on his house being soon afterwards shut up, it removed to baxter's, which subsequently became thomas's, in dover-street. in january it removed to parsloe's, in st. james's-street; and on february , , to the thatched-house in the same street.' forster's _goldsmith_ i. . [ ] the second edition is here spoken of. malone. [ ] _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. [ ] from sir joshua reynolds. boswell. the knight having refused to pay his portion of the reckoning for supper, because he usually eat no supper at home, johnson observed, 'sir john, sir, is a very _unclubable_ man.' burney. hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'mr. dyer had contracted a fatal intimacy with some persons of desperate fortunes, who were dealers in india stock, at a time when the affairs of the company were in a state of fluctuation.' malone, commenting on this passage, says that 'under these words mr. burke is darkly alluded to, together with his cousin.' he adds that the character given of dyer by hawkins 'is discoloured by the malignant prejudices of that shallow writer, who, having quarrelled with mr. burke, carried his enmity even to mr. burke's friends.' prior's _malone_, p. . see also _ante_, p. . hawkins (_life_, p. ) said of goldsmith:--'as he wrote for the booksellers, we at the club looked on him as a mere literary drudge, equal to the task of compiling and translating, but little capable of original, and still less of poetical composition.' [ ] _life of johnson_, p. . boswell. hawkins is 'equally inaccurate' in saying' that johnson was so constant at our meetings as never to absent himself.' (_ib_. p. .) see _post_, johnson's letter to langton of march , , where he says:--'dyer is constant at the club; hawkins is remiss; i am not over diligent.' [ ] letters to and from dr. johnson. vol. ii. p. [ ]. boswell. the passage is as follows:--'"if he _does_ apply," says our doctor to mr. thrale, "i'll black-ball him." "who, sir? mr. garrick, your friend, your companion,--black-ball him!" "why, sir, i love my little david dearly, better than all or any of his flatterers do, but surely one ought, &c."' [ ] pope's _moral essays_, iii. . [ ] malone says that it was from him that boswell had his account of garrick's election, and that he had it from reynolds. he adds that 'johnson warmly supported garrick, being in reality a very tender affectionate man. he was merely offended at the actors conceit.' he continues:--'on the former part of this story it probably was that hawkins grounded his account that garrick never was of the club, and that johnson said he never ought to be of it. and thus it is that this stupid biographer, and the more flippant and malicious mrs. piozzi have miscoloured and misrepresented almost every anecdote that they have pretented to tell of dr. johnson.' prior's _malone_, p. . whatever was the slight cast upon garrick, he was nevertheless the sixth new member elected. four, as i have shown, were added by . the next elections were in (croker's _boswell_, ed. . ii. ), when five were added, of whom garrick was the second, and boswell the fifth. in five more were elected, among whom were fox and gibbon. hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) says that 'upon garrick's death, when numberless applications were made to succeed him [in the club], johnson was deaf to them all. he said, "no, there never could be found any successor worthy of such a man;" and he insisted upon it there should be a year's widowhood in the club, before they thought of a new election.' [ ] grainger wrote to percy on april , :--'sam. johnson says he will review it in _the critical_' in august, , he wrote:--'i am perfectly satisfied with the reception the _sugar cane_ has met with, and am greatly obliged to you and mr. johnson for the generous care you took of it in my absence.' prior's _goldsmith_, i. . he was absent in the west indies. he died on dec. , . _ib_. p. . the review of the _sugar cane_ in the _critical review_ (p. ) is certainly by johnson. the following passage is curious:--'the last book begins with a striking invocation to the genius of africa, and goes on to give proper instructions for the buying and choice of negroes.... the poet talks of this ungenerous commerce without the least appearance of detestation; but proceeds to direct these purchasers of their fellow-creatures with the same indifference that a groom would give instructions for choosing a horse. 'clear roll their ample eye; their tongue be red; broad swell their chest; their shoulders wide expand; not prominent their belly; clean and strong their thighs and legs in just proportion rise.' see also _post_, march , . [ ] johnson thus ends his brief review:--'such in the poem on which we now congratulate the public as on a production to which, since the death of pope, it not be easy to find anything equal.' _critical review_, p. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. he adds:-- 'i hope to put my rooms in order. disorder i have found one great cause of idleness.' [ ] _ib_. p. . boswell. [ ] it was on his birth-day that he said this. he wrote on the same day:--'i have outlived many friends. i have felt many sorrows. i have made few improvements.' [ ] _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell. in his _vision of theodore_ (_works_, ix. ) he describes the state of mind which he has recorded in his meditations:--'there were others whose crime it was rather to neglect reason than to disobey her; and who retreated from the heat and tumult of the way, not to the bowers of intemperance, but to the maze of indolence. they had this peculiarity in their condition, that they were always in sight of the road of reason, always wishing for her presence, and always resolving to return to-morrow.' [ ] see appendix f. [ ] it used to be imagined at mr. thrale's, when johnson retired to a window or corner of the room, by perceiving his lips in motion, and hearing a murmur without audible articulation, that he was praying: but this was not _always_ the case, for i was once, perhaps unperceived by him, writing at a table, so near the place of his retreat, that i heard him repeating some lines in an ode of horace, over and over again, as if by iteration, to exercise the organs of speech, and fix the ode in his memory: audiet cives acuisse ferrum quo graves persas melius perirent, audiet pugnas.... odes, i. , . ['our sons shall hear, shall hear to latest times, of roman arms with civil gore imbrued, which better had the persian foe subdued.' _francis_.] it was during the american war. burney. boswell in his _hebrides_ (oct. , ) records, 'dr. johnson is often uttering pious ejaculations, when he appears to be talking to himself; for sometimes his voice grows stronger, and parts of the lord's prayer are heard.' in the same passage he describes other 'particularities,' and adds in a note:--'it is remarkable that dr. johnson should have read this account of some of his own peculiar habits, without saying anything on the subject, which i hoped he would have done.' see _post_, dec. , note. [ ] churchill's _poems_, i. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'it is in vain to try to find a meaning in every one of his particularities, which, i suppose, are mere habits contracted by chance; of which every man has some that are more or less remarkable.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . 'the love of symmetry and order, which is natural to the mind of man, betrays him sometimes into very whimsical fancies. "this noble principle," says a french author, "loves to amuse itself on the most trifling occasions. you may see a profound philosopher," says he, "walk for an hour together in his chamber, and industriously treading at every step upon every other board in the flooring."' _the spectator_, no. . [ ] mr. s. whyte (_miscellanea nova_, p. ) tells how from old mr. sheridan's house in bedford-street, opposite henrietta-street, with an opera-glass he watched johnson approaching. 'i perceived him at a good distance working along with a peculiar solemnity of deportment, and an awkward sort of measured step. upon every post as he passed along, he deliberately laid his hand; but missing one of them, when he had got at some distance he seemed suddenly to recollect himself, and immediately returning carefully performed the accustomed ceremony, and resumed his former course, not omitting one till he gained the crossing. this, mr. sheridan assured me, was his constant practice.' [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. . boswell. 'the day that we left talisker, he bade us ride on. he then turned the head of his horse back towards talisker, stopped for some time; then wheeled round to the same direction with ours, and then came briskly after us.' boswell's _hebrides_', oct. , . [ ] sir joshua's sister, for whom johnson had a particular affection, and to whom he wrote many letters which i have seen, and which i am sorry her too nice delicacy will not permit to be published. boswell. 'whilst the company at mr. thrale's were speculating upon a microscope for the mind, johnson exclaimed:--"i never saw one that would bear it, except that of my dear miss reynolds, and hers is very near to purity itself."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . once, said northcote, there was a coolness between her and her brother. she wished to set forth to him her grievances in a letter. not finding it easy to write, she consulted johnson, 'who offered to write a letter himself, which when copied should pass as her own.' this he did. it began: 'i am well aware that complaints are always odious, but complain i must.' such a letter as this she saw would not pass with sir joshua as her own, and so she could not use it. _ib_. p. . of johnson's letters to her malone published one, and mr. croker several more. mme. d'arblay, in the character she draws of her (_memoirs of dr. burney_, i. ), says that 'dr. johnson tried in vain to cure her of living in an habitual perplexity of mind and irresolution of conduct, which to herself was restlessly tormenting, and to all around her was teazingly wearisome.' [ ] see appendix c. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] his quarter's pension. see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. croker, misunderstanding a passage in hawkins, writes:--'hawkins says that he disliked to be called doctor, as reminding him that he had been a schoolmaster.' what hawkins really says (_life_, p. ) is this:--'his attachment to oxford prevented johnson from receiving this honour as it was intended, and he never assumed the title which it conferred. he was as little pleased to be called doctor in consequence of it, as he was with the title of _domine_, which a friend of his once incautiously addressed him by. he thought it alluded to his having been a schoolmaster.' it is clear that 'it' in the last line refers only to the title of _domine_. murphy (_life_, p. ) says that johnson never assumed the title of doctor, till oxford conferred on him the degree. boswell states (_post_, march , , note):--'it is remarkable that he never, so far as i know, assumed his title of _doctor_, but called himself _mr_. johnson.' in this, as i show there, boswell seems to be not perfectly accurate. i do not believe hawkins's assertion that johnson 'was little pleased to be called doctor in consequence of his dublin degree.' in boswell's hebrides, most of which was read by him before he received his oxford degree, he is commonly styled doctor. boswell says in a note on aug. , :--'it was some time before i could bring myself to call him doctor.' had johnson disliked the title it would have been known to boswell. mrs. thrale, it is true, in her letters' to him, after he had received both his degrees, commonly speaks of him as mr. johnson. we may assume that he valued his oxford degree of m.a. more highly than the dublin degree of ll.d.; for in the third edition of the _abridgment of his dictionary_, published in , he is styled samuel johnson, a.m. in his _lives of the poets_ he calls himself simply samuel johnson. he had by that time risen above degrees. in his _journey to the hebrides_ (_works_, ix. ), after stating that 'an english or irish doctorate cannot be obtained by a very young man,' he continues:--'it is reasonable to suppose ... that he who is by age qualified to be a doctor, has in so much time gained learning sufficient not to disgrace the title, or wit sufficient not to desire it.' [ ] trinity college made him, it should seem, _armiger_ at the same time that it made him doctor of laws. [ ] see appendix d for this letter. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] _single-speech_ hamilton, as he was commonly called, though in the house of commons he had spoken more than once. for above thirty sessions together, however, he held his tongue. prior's _burke_, p. . [ ] see appendix e for an explanation. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. boswell. [ ] see appendix f. [ ] mr. blakeway, in a note on this passage, says:--'the predecessor of old thrale was edmund halsey, esq.; the nobleman who married his daughter was lord cobham. the family of thrale was of some consideration in st. albans; in the abbey-church is a handsome monument to the memory of mr. john thrale, late of london, merchant, who died in .' he describes the arms on the monument. mr. hayward, in _mrs. piozzis autobiography_, i. , quotes her marginal note on this page in boswell. she says that edmund halsey, son of a miller at st. albans, married the only daughter of his master, old child, of the anchor brewhouse, southwark, and succeeded to the business upon child's death. 'he sent for one of his sister's sons to london (my mr. thrale's father); said he would make a man of him, and did so; but made him work very hard, and treated him very roughly.' he left him nothing at his death, and thrale bought the brewery of lord and lady cobham. [ ] see _post_, under april , , and june , . [ ] mrs. burney informs me that she heard dr. johnson say, 'an english merchant is a new species of gentleman.' he, perhaps, had in his mind the following ingenious passage in _the conscious lovers_, act iv. scene ii, where mr. sealand thus addresses sir john bevil: 'give me leave to say, that we merchants are a species of gentry that have grown into the world this last century, and are as honourable, and almost as useful as you landed-folks, that have always thought yourselves so much above us; for your trading forsooth is extended no farther than a load of hay, or a fat ox.--you are pleasant people indeed! because you are generally bred up to be lazy, therefore, i warrant your industry is dishonourable.' boswell. _the conscious lovers_ is by steele. 'i never heard of any plays fit for a christian to read,' said parson adams, 'but _cato_ and _the conscious lovers_; and i must own, in the latter there are some things almost solemn enough for a sermon.' _joseph andrews_, book iii, chap. xi. [ ] in the first number of _the hypochondriack_ boswell writes:--'it is a saying in feudal treatises, "semel baro semper baro_," "once a baron always a baron."' _london mag_. , p. . he seems of mr. thrale's inferiority by speaking of him as thrale and his house as thrale's. see _post_, april and , , april , , and under march , . he never, i believe, is thus familiar in the case of beauclerk, burke, langton, and reynolds. [ ] for her extraction see hayward's _mrs. piozzi_, i. . [ ] miss burney records in may , how one day at streatham 'mr. murphy met with a very joyful reception; and mr. thrale, for the first time in his life, said he was "a good fellow;" for he makes it a sort of rule to salute him with the title of "scoundrel," or "rascal." they are very old friends; and i question if mr. thrale loves any man so well.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] from the _garrick corres_, i. , it seems that murphy introduced garrick to the thrales. he wrote to him on may , :--'you stand engaged to mr. thrale for wednesday night. you need not apprehend drinking; it is a very easy house.' [ ] murphy (_life_, p. ) says that johnson's introduction to the thrales 'contributed more than anything else to exempt him from the solicitudes of life.' he continues that 'he looks back to the share he had in that business with self congratulation, since he knows the tenderness which from that time soothed johnson's cares at streatham, and prolonged a valuable life.' johnson wrote to mrs. thrale from lichfield on july , :--'i have found nothing that withdraws my affections from the friends whom i left behind, or which makes me less desirous of reposing at that place which your kindness and mr. thrale's allows me to call my _home_.' _piozzi letters_, i. . from mull, on oct. , , he wrote:--'having for many weeks had no letter, my longings are very great to be informed how all things are at home, as you and mistress allow me to call it.' _ib_. p. . miss burney in wrote that 'though dr. johnson lives almost wholly at streatham, he always keeps his apartments in town.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . johnson (_works_, viii. ) tells how, in the house of sir thomas abney, 'dr. watts, with a constancy of friendship and uniformity of conduct not often to be found, was treated for thirty-six years with all the kindness that friendship could prompt, and all the attention that respect could dictate.' he continues:--'a coalition like this, a state in which the notions of patronage and dependence were overpowered by the perception of reciprocal benefits, deserves a particular memorial.' it was such a coalition which he formed with the thrales--a coalition in which, though the benefits which he received were great, yet those which he conferred were still greater. [ ] on this mrs. piozzi notes:--'no, no! mr. thrale's manners presented the character of a gay man of the town; like millamant, in congreve's comedy, he abhorred the country and everything in it.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . mrs. millamant, in _the way of the world_, act iv. sc. iv., says:--'i loathe the country and everything that relates to it.' [ ] 'it is but justice to mr. thrale to say, that a more ingenuous frame of mind no man possessed. his education at oxford gave him the habits of a gentleman; his amiable temper recommended his conversation, and the goodness of his heart made him a sincere friend.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . johnson wrote of him to mrs. thrale:--'he must keep well, for he is the pillar of the house; and you must get well, or the house will hardly be worth propping.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, april , . mme. d'arblay (_memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. ) gives one reason for thrale's fondness for johnson's society. 'though entirely a man of peace, and a gentleman in his character, he had a singular amusement in hearing, instigating, and provoking a war of words, alternating triumph and overthrow, between clever and ambitious colloquial combatants, where there was nothing that could inflict disgrace upon defeat.' [ ] in like manner he called mr. thrale _master_ or _my master_. 'i hope master's walk will be finished when i come back.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'my master may plant and dig till his pond is an ocean.' _ib_. p. . see _post_, july , . [ ] miss burney thus described her in :--'she is extremely lively and chatty; and showed none of the supercilious or pedantic airs so scoffingly attributed to women of learning or celebrity; on the contrary, she is full of sport, remarkably gay, and excessively agreeable. i liked her in everything except her entrance into the room, which was rather florid and flourishing, as who should say, "it is i!--no less a person than mrs. thrale!" however, all that ostentation wore out in the course of the visit, which lasted the whole morning; and you could not have helped liking her, she is so very entertaining-- though not simple enough, i believe, for quite winning your heart.' _memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. . [ ] _mrs. piozzi's anecdotes_, p. . boswell. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on oct. , :--'i cannot but think on your kindness and my master's. life has upon the whole fallen short, very short, of my early expectation; but the acquisition of such a friendship, at an age when new friendships are seldom acquired, is something better than the general course of things gives man a right to expect. i think on it with great delight; i am not very apt to be delighted.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . johnson's friends suffered from this connection. see _post_, march , , where it is said that 'at streatham he was in a great measure absorbed from the society of his old friends.' [ ] yet one year he recorded:--'march , i have never, i thank god, since new year's day deviated from the practice of rising. in this practice i persisted till i went to mr. thrale's sometime before midsummer; the irregularity of that family broke my habit of rising. i was there till after michaelmas.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. , note. hawkins places this in ; but johnson states (_pr. and med_. p. ), 'i returned from streatham, oct. , -- , having lived there more than three months.' [ ] boswell wrote to temple in :--'i am at present in a _tourbillon_ of conversations; but how come you to throw in the thrales among the reynoldses and the beauclerks? mr. thrale is a worthy, sensible man, and has the wits much about his house; but he is not one himself. perhaps you mean mrs. thrale.' _letters of boswell_, p. . murphy (_life_, p. ) says:--'it was late in life before johnson had the habit of mixing, otherwise than occasionally, with polite company. at mr. thrale's he saw a constant succession of well-accomplished visitors. in that society he began to wear off the rugged points of his own character. the time was then expected when he was to cease being what george garrick, brother to the celebrated actor, called him the first time he heard him converse. "a tremendous companion"' [ ] johnson wrote to dr. warton on oct. :--'mrs. warton uses me hardly in supposing that i could forget so much kindness and civility as she showed me at winchester.' wooll's _warton_, p. . malone on this remarks:--'it appears that johnson spent some time with that gentleman at winchester in this year.' i believe that johnson is speaking of the year , when, on his way to devonshire, he passed two nights in that town. see taylor's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] it was in that he published his _observations on macbeth_, as a specimen of his projected edition (_ante_, p. ). in he issued _proposals_ undertaking that his work should be published before christmas, (p. ). on june , , he writes:--'i am printing my new edition of _shakspeare_' (p. ). on dec. of the same year he says, 'i shall publish about march' (p. ). on march , , he writes:--'it will be published before summer.... i have printed many of the plays' (p. ). in june of the same year langton took some of the plays to oxford (p. ). churchill's _ghost_ (parts and ) was published in the spring of (p. ). on july , , johnson wrote to baretti, 'i intend that you shall soon receive shakspeare' (p. ). in october it was published. [ ] according to mr. seward (_anec_. ii. ), 'adam smith styled it the most manly piece of criticism that was ever published in any country.' [ ] george iii, at all events, did not share in this blind admiration. 'was there ever,' cried he, 'such stuff as great part of shakespeare? only one must not say so. but what think you? what? is there not sad stuff? what? what?' 'yes, indeed, i think so, sir, though mixed with such excellencies that--' 'o!' cried he, laughing good-humouredly, 'i know it is not to be said! but it's true. only it's shakespeare, and nobody dare abuse him.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii, . [ ] that johnson did not slur his work, as has been often said, we have the best of all evidence--his own word. 'i have, indeed,' he writes (_works_, v. ), 'disappointed no opinion more than my own; yet i have endeavoured to perform my task with no slight solicitude. not a single passage in the whole work has appeared to me corrupt which i have not attempted to restore; or obscure which i have not attempted to illustrate.' [ ] steevens wrote to garrick:--'to say the truth, the errors of warburton and johnson are often more meritorious than such corrections of them as the obscure industry of mr. farmer and myself can furnish. disdaining crutches, they have sometimes had a fall; but it is my duty to remember, that i, for my part, could not have kept on my legs at all without them.' _garrick corres_. ii, . 'johnson's preface and notes are distinguished by clearness of thought and diction, and by masterly common sense.' _cambridge shakespeare_, i. xxxvi. [ ] kenrick later on was the gross libeller of goldsmith, and the far grosser libeller of garrick. 'when proceedings were commenced against him in the court of king's bench [for the libel on garrick], he made at once the most abject submission and retractation.' prior's _goldsmith_, i. . in the _garrick carres_, (ii. ) is a letter addressed to kenrick, in which garrick says:--'i could have honoured you by giving the satisfaction of a gentleman, _if you could_ (as shakespeare says) _have screwed your courage to the sticking place_, to have taken it.' it is endorsed:--'this was not sent to the scoundrel dr. kenrick.... it was judged best not to answer any more of dr. kenrick's notes, he had behaved so unworthily.' [ ] ephraim chambers, in the epitaph that he made for himself (_ante_, p. ), had described himself as _multis pervulgatus paucis notus_.' _gent. mag_. x. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] johnson had joined voltaire with dennis and rymer. 'dennis and rymer think shakespeare's romans not sufficiently roman; and voltaire censures his kings as not completely royal. dennis is offended that menenius, a senator of rome, should play the buffoon; and voltaire, perhaps, thinks decency violated when the danish usurper is represented as a drunkard. but shakespeare always makes nature predominate over accident.... his story requires romans or kings, but he thinks only on men. he knew that rome, like every other city, had men of all dispositions; and wanting a buffoon, he went into the senate-house for that which the senate-house would certainly have afforded him. he was inclined to show an usurper and a murderer, not only odious, but despicable; he therefore added drunkenness to his other qualities, knowing that kings love wine like other men, and that wine exerts its natural power upon kings. these are the petty cavils of petty _minds_; a poet overlooks the casual distinction of country and condition, as a painter, satisfied with the figure, neglects the drapery.' johnson's _works_, v. . johnson had previously attacked voltaire, in his _memoirs of frederick the great_. (_ante_, i. , note .) in these _memoirs_ he writes:--'voltaire has asserted that a large sum was raised for her [the queen of hungary's] succour by voluntary subscriptions of the english ladies. it is the great failing of a strong imagination to catch greedily at wonders. he was misinformed, and was perhaps unwilling to learn, by a second enquiry, a truth less splendid and amusing.' _ib_. vi. . see _post_, oct. , . [ ] 'voltaire replied in the _dictionnaire philosophique_. (_works_, xxxiii. .) 'j'ai jeté les yeux sur une édition de shakespeare, donnée par le sieur samuel johnson. j'y ai vu qu'on y traite de _petits esprits_ les étrangers qui sont étonnés que dans les pièces de ce grand shakespeare _un sénateur romain fasse le bouffon; et gu'un roi paraisse sur le théâtre en ivrogne_. je ne veux point soupçonner le sieur johnson d'ètre un mauvais plaisant, et d'aimer trop le vin; mais je trouve un peu extraordinaire qu'il compte la bouffonnerie et l'ivrognerie parmi les beautes du théatre tragique; la raison qu'il en donne n'est pas moins singulière. _le poète_, dit-il, _dédaigne ces distinctions accidentelles de conditions et de pays, comme un peintre qui, content d'avoir peint la figure, néglige la draperie_. la comparaison serait plus juste, s'il parlait d'un peintre qui, dans un sujet noble, introduirait des grotesques ridicules, peindrait dans la bataille d'arbelles alexandre-le grand monte sur un âne, et la femme de darius buvant avec des goujats dans un cabaret.' johnson, perhaps, had this attack in mind when, in his _life of pope_ (_works_, viii. ), he thus wrote of voltaire:--'he had been entertained by pope at his table, when he talked with so much grossness, that mrs. pope was driven from the room. pope discovered by a trick that he was a spy for the court, and never considered him as a man worthy of confidence.' [ ] see _post_, under may , . [ ] see _post_, ii. . [ ] he was probably proposing to himself the model of this excellent person, who for his piety was named _the seraphic doctor_. boswell. [ ] 'e'en in a bishop i can spy desert, secker is decent, rundel has a heart.' pope. _epil, sat_. ii. . [ ] so smollett calls him in his _history of england_, iii. . [ ] six of these twelve guineas johnson appears to have borrowed from mr. allen, the printer. see hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. n. malone. [ ] written by mistake for . on the _outside_ of the letter of the th was written by another hand--'pray acknowledge the receipt of this by return of post, without fail.' malone. [ ] catherine chambers, mrs. johnson's maid-servant. she died in october, . malone. see _post_, ii. . [ ] this letter was written on the second leaf of the preceding, addressed to miss porter. malone. [ ] mrs. johnson probably died on the th or st january, and was buried on the day this letter was written. malone. on the day on which his mother was buried johnson composed a prayer, as being 'now about to return to the common comforts and business of the world.' _pr. and med_. p. . after his wife''s death he had allowed forty days to pass before his 'return to life.' see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] barnaby greene had just published _the laureat, a poem_, in which johnson is abused. it is in the february list of books in the _gent. mag_. for . [ ] sir cloudesly shovel's monument is thus mentioned by addison in _the spectator_, no. :--'it has very often given me great offence; instead of the brave rough english admiral, which was the distinguishing character of that plain gallant man, he is represented on his tomb by the figure of a beau, dressed in a long periwig, and reposing himself upon velvet cushions under a canopy of state.' [ ] 'that live-long wig, which gorgon's self might own, eternal buckle takes in parian stone.' pope's _moral essays_, iii. . [ ] milton's epigram is in his _sylvarum liber_, and is entitled _in effigiei ejus sculptorem_. [ ] johnson's acquaintance, bishop newton (_post_, june , ), published an edition of _milton_. [ ] it was no doubt by the master of emanuel college, his friend dr. farmer (_ante_, p. ), that johnson was promised 'an habitation' there. the end of the first volume. boswell's life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford in six volumes volume iii.--life ( - ) contents of vol. iii. life of samuel johnson, ll.d. (march --oct. ). appendices: a. george psalmanazar b. johnson's travels and love of travelling c. election of lord mayors of london d. the inmates of johnson's house e. boswell's letters of acceptance of the office of secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. having left ashbourne in the evening, we stopped to change horses at derby, and availed ourselves of a moment to enjoy the conversation of my countryman, dr. butter, then physician there. he was in great indignation because lord mountstuart's bill for a scotch militia[ ] had been lost. dr. johnson was as violent against it. 'i am glad, (said he,) that parliament has had the spirit to throw it out. you wanted to take advantage of the timidity of our scoundrels;' (meaning, i suppose, the ministry). it may be observed, that he used the epithet scoundrel very commonly not quite in the sense in which it is generally understood, but as a strong term of disapprobation; as when he abruptly answered mrs. thrale, who had asked him how he did, 'ready to become a scoundrel, madam; with a little more spoiling you will, i think, make me a complete rascal[ ]:' he meant, easy to become a capricious and self-indulgent valetudinarian; a character for which i have heard him express great disgust. johnson had with him upon this jaunt, '_il palmerino d'inghilterra_,' a romance[ ] praised by cervantes; but did not like it much. he said, he read it for the language, by way of preparation for his italian expedition.--we lay this night at loughborough. on thursday, march , we pursued our journey. i mentioned that old mr. sheridan complained of the ingratitude of mr. wedderburne[ ] and general fraser, who had been much obliged to him when they were young scotchmen entering upon life in england. johnson. 'why, sir, a man is very apt to complain of the ingratitude of those who have risen far above him. a man when he gets into a higher sphere, into other habits of life, cannot keep up all his former connections. then, sir, those who knew him formerly upon a level with themselves, may think that they ought still to be treated as on a level, which cannot be; and an acquaintance in a former situation may bring out things which it would be very disagreeable to have mentioned before higher company, though, perhaps, every body knows of them.' he placed this subject in a new light to me, and shewed that a man who has risen in the world, must not be condemned too harshly for being distant to former acquaintance, even though he may have been much obliged to them.' it is, no doubt, to be wished that a proper degree of attention should be shewn by great men to their early friends. but if either from obtuse insensibility to difference of situation, or presumptuous forwardness, which will not submit even to an exteriour observance of it, the dignity of high place cannot be preserved, when they are admitted into the company of those raised above the state in which they once were, encroachment must be repelled, and the kinder feelings sacrificed. to one of the very fortunate persons whom i have mentioned, namely, mr. wedderburne, now lord loughborough, i must do the justice to relate, that i have been assured by another early acquaintance of his, old mr. macklin[ ], who assisted in improving his pronunciation, that he found him very grateful. macklin, i suppose, had not pressed upon his elevation with so much eagerness as the gentleman who complained of him. dr. johnson's remark as to the jealousy 'entertained of our friends who rise far above us,' is certainly very just. by this was withered the early friendship between charles townshend and akenside[ ]; and many similar instances might be adduced. he said, 'it is commonly a weak man who marries for love.' we then talked of marrying women of fortune; and i mentioned a common remark, that a man may be, upon the whole, richer by marrying a woman with a very small portion, because a woman of fortune will be proportionally expensive; whereas a woman who brings none will be very moderate in expenses. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this is not true. a woman of fortune being used to the handling of money, spends it judiciously: but a woman who gets the command of money for the first time upon her marriage, has such a gust in spending it, that she throws it away with great profusion.' he praised the ladies of the present age, insisting that they were more faithful to their husbands, and more virtuous in every respect, than in former times, because their understandings were better cultivated[ ]. it was an undoubted proof of his good sense and good disposition, that he was never querulous, never prone to inveigh against the present times, as is so common when superficial minds are on the fret. on the contrary, he was willing to speak favourably of his own age; and, indeed, maintained its superiority[ ] in every respect, except in its reverence for government; the relaxation of which he imputed, as its grand cause, to the shock which our monarchy received at the revolution, though necessary[ ]; and secondly, to the timid concessions made to faction by successive administrations in the reign of his present majesty. i am happy to think, that he lived to see the crown at last recover its just influence[ ]. at leicester we read in the news-paper that dr. james[ ] was dead. i thought that the death of an old school-fellow, and one with whom he had lived a good deal in london, would have affected my fellow-traveller much: but he only said, 'ah! poor jamy.' afterwards, however, when we were in the chaise, he said, with more tenderness, 'since i set out on this jaunt, i have lost an old friend and a young one;--dr. james, and poor harry[ ].' (meaning mr. thrale's son.) having lain at st. alban's, on thursday, march , we breakfasted the next morning at barnet. i expressed to him a weakness of mind which i could not help; an uneasy apprehension that my wife and children, who were at a great distance from me, might, perhaps, be ill. 'sir, (said he,) consider how foolish you would think it in _them_ to be apprehensive that _you_ are ill[ ].' this sudden turn relieved me for the moment; but i afterwards perceived it to be an ingenious fallacy. i might, to be sure, be satisfied that they had no reason to be apprehensive about me, because i _knew_ that i myself was well: but we might have a mutual anxiety, without the charge of folly; because each was, in some degree, uncertain as to the condition of the other. i enjoyed the luxury of our approach to london, that metropolis which we both loved so much, for the high and varied intellectual pleasure which it furnishes[ ]. i experienced immediate happiness while whirled along with such a companion, and said to him, 'sir, you observed one day at general oglethorpe's[ ], that a man is never happy for the present, but when he is drunk. will you not add,--or when driving rapidly in a post-chaise[ ]?' johnson. 'no, sir, you are driving rapidly from something, or to something.' talking of melancholy, he said, 'some men, and very thinking men too, have not those vexing thoughts[ ]. sir joshua reynolds is the same all the year round[ ]. beauclerk, except when ill and in pain, is the same. but i believe most men have them in the degree in which they are capable of having them. if i were in the country, and were distressed by that malady, i would force myself to take a book; and every time i did it i should find it the easier. melancholy, indeed, should be diverted by every means but drinking[ ].' we stopped at messieurs dillys, booksellers in the poultry; from whence he hurried away, in a hackney coach, to mr. thrale's, in the borough. i called at his house in the evening, having promised to acquaint mrs. williams of his safe return; when, to my surprize, i found him sitting with her at tea, and, as i thought, not in a very good humour: for, it seems, when he had got to mr. thrale's, he found the coach was at the door waiting to carry mrs. and miss thrale, and signor baretti, their italian master, to bath[ ]. this was not shewing the attention which might have been expected to the 'guide, philosopher, and friend[ ],' the _imlac_[ ] who had hastened from the country to console a distressed mother, who he understood was very anxious for his return. they had, i found, without ceremony, proceeded on their intended journey. i was glad to understand from him that it was still resolved that his tour to italy with mr. and mrs. thrale should take place, of which he had entertained some doubt, on account of the loss which they had suffered; and his doubts afterwards proved to be well-founded. he observed, indeed very justly, that 'their loss was an additional reason for their going abroad; and if it had not been fixed that he should have been one of the party, he would force them out; but he would not advise them unless his advice was asked, lest they might suspect that he recommended what he wished on his own account.' i was not pleased that his intimacy with mr. thrale's family, though it no doubt contributed much to his comfort and enjoyment, was not without some degree of restraint: not, as has been grossly suggested, that it was required of him as a task to talk for the entertainment of them and their company; but that he was not quite at his ease; which, however, might partly be owing to his own honest pride--that dignity of mind which is always jealous of appearing too compliant. on sunday, march , i called on him, and shewed him as a curiosity which i had discovered, his _translation of lobo's account of abyssinia_, which sir john pringle had lent me, it being then little known as one of his works[ ]. he said, 'take no notice of it,' or 'don't talk of it.' he seemed to think it beneath him, though done at six-and-twenty. i said to him, 'your style, sir, is much improved since you translated this.' he answered with a sort of triumphant smile, 'sir, i hope it is.' on wednesday, april , in the morning i found him very busy putting his books in order, and as they were generally very old ones, clouds of dust were flying around him. he had on a pair of large gloves such as hedgers use. his present appearance put me in mind of my uncle, dr. boswell's[ ] description of him, 'a robust genius, born to grapple with whole libraries.' i gave him an account of a conversation which had passed between me and captain cook, the day before, at dinner at sir john pringle's[ ]; and he was much pleased with the conscientious accuracy of that celebrated circumnavigator, who set me right as to many of the exaggerated accounts given by dr. hawkesworth of his voyages. i told him that while i was with the captain, i catched the enthusiasm[ ] of curiosity and adventure, and felt a strong inclination to go with him on his next voyage. johnson. 'why, sir, a man _does_ feel so, till he considers how very little he can learn from such voyages.' boswell. 'but one is carried away with the general grand and indistinct notion of a voyage round the world.' johnson. 'yes, sir, but a man is to guard himself against taking a thing in general.' i said i was certain that a great part of what we are told by the travellers to the south sea must be conjecture, because they had not enough of the language of those countries to understand so much as they have related. objects falling under the observation of the senses might be clearly known; but every thing intellectual, every thing abstract--politicks, morals, and religion, must be darkly guessed. dr. johnson was of the same opinion. he upon another occasion, when a friend mentioned to him several extraordinary facts, as communicated to him by the circumnavigators, slily observed, 'sir, i never before knew how much i was respected by these gentlemen; they told _me_ none of these things.' he had been in company with omai, a native of one of the south sea islands, after he had been some time in this country. he was struck with the elegance of his behaviour, and accounted for it thus: 'sir, he had passed his time, while in england, only in the best company; so that all that he had acquired of our manners was genteel. as a proof of this, sir, lord mulgrave and he dined one day at streatham; they sat with their backs to the light fronting me, so that i could not see distinctly; and there was so little of the savage in omai, that i was afraid to speak to either, lest i should mistake one for the other[ ].' we agreed to dine to-day at the mitre-tavern, after the rising of the house of lords, where a branch of the litigation concerning the douglas estate[ ], in which i was one of the counsel, was to come on. i brought with me mr. murray, solicitor-general of scotland, now one of the judges of the court of session, with the title of lord henderland. i mentioned mr. solicitor's relation, lord charles hay[ ], with whom i knew dr. johnson had been acquainted. johnson. 'i wrote something[ ] for lord charles; and i thought he had nothing to fear from a court-martial. i suffered a great loss when he died; he was a mighty pleasing man in conversation, and a reading man. the character of a soldier is high. they who stand forth the foremost in danger, for the community, have the respect of mankind. an officer is much more respected than any other man who has as little money. in a commercial country, money will always purchase respect. but you find, an officer, who has, properly speaking, no money, is every where well received and treated with attention. the character of a soldier always stands him in stead[ ].' boswell. 'yet, sir, i think that common soldiers are worse thought of than other men in the same rank of life; such as labourers.' johnson. 'why, sir, a common soldier is usually a very gross man[ ], and any quality which procures respect may be overwhelmed by grossness. a man of learning may be so vicious or so ridiculous that you cannot respect him. a common soldier too, generally eats more than he can pay for. but when a common soldier is civil in his quarters, his red coat procures him a degree of respect[ ].' the peculiar respect paid to the military character in france was mentioned. boswell. 'i should think that where military men are so numerous, they would be less valued as not being rare.' johnson. 'nay, sir, wherever a particular character or profession is high in the estimation of a people, those who are of it will be valued above other men. we value an englishman highly in this country, and yet englishmen are not rare in it.' mr. murray praised the ancient philosophers for the candour and good humour with which those of different sects disputed with each other. johnson. 'sir, they disputed with good humour, because they were not in earnest as to religion. had the ancients been serious in their belief, we should not have had their gods exhibited in the manner we find them represented in the poets. the people would not have suffered it. they disputed with good humour upon their fanciful theories, because they were not interested in the truth of them: when a man has nothing to lose, he may be in good humour with his opponent. accordingly you see in lucian, the epicurean, who argues only negatively, keeps his temper; the stoick, who has something positive to preserve, grows angry[ ]. being angry with one who controverts an opinion which you value, is a necessary consequence of the uneasiness which you feel. every man who attacks my belief, diminishes in some degree my confidence in it, and therefore makes me uneasy; and i am angry with him who makes me uneasy[ ]. those only who believed in revelation have been angry at having their faith called in question; because they only had something upon which they could rest as matter of fact.' murray. 'it seems to me that we are not angry at a man for controverting an opinion which we believe and value; we rather pity him.' johnson. 'why, sir; to be sure when you wish a man to have that belief which you think is of infinite advantage, you wish well to him; but your primary consideration is your own quiet. if a madman were to come into this room with a stick in his hand, no doubt we should pity the state of his mind; but our primary consideration would be to take care of ourselves. we should knock him down first, and pity him afterwards. no, sir; every man will dispute with great good humour upon a subject in which he is not interested. i will dispute very calmly upon the probability of another man's son being hanged; but if a man zealously enforces the probability that my own son will be hanged, i shall certainly not be in a very good humour with him.' i added this illustration, 'if a man endeavours to convince me that my wife, whom i love very much, and in whom i place great confidence, is a disagreeable woman, and is even unfaithful to me, i shall be very angry, for he is putting me in fear of being unhappy.' murray. 'but, sir, truth will always bear an examination.' johnson. 'yes, sir, but it is painful to be forced to defend it. consider, sir, how should you like, though conscious of your innocence, to be tried before a jury for a capital crime, once a week.' we talked of education at great schools; the advantages and disadvantages of which johnson displayed in a luminous manner; but his arguments preponderated so much in favour of the benefit which a boy of good parts[ ] might receive at one of them, that i have reason to believe mr. murray was very much influenced by what he had heard to-day, in his determination to send his own son to westminster school[ ].--i have acted in the same manner with regard to my own two sons; having placed the eldest at eton, and the second at westminster. i cannot say which is best.[ ] but in justice to both those noble seminaries, i with high satisfaction declare, that my boys have derived from them a great deal of good, and no evil: and i trust they will, like horace[ ], be grateful to their father for giving them so valuable an education. i introduced the topick, which is often ignorantly urged, that the universities of england are too rich[ ]; so that learning does not flourish in them as it would do, if those who teach had smaller salaries, and depended on their assiduity for a great part of their income. johnson. 'sir, the very reverse of this is the truth; the english universities are not rich enough. our fellowships are only sufficient to support a man during his studies to fit him for the world, and accordingly in general they are held no longer than till an opportunity offers of getting away. now and then, perhaps, there is a fellow who grows old in his college; but this is against his will, unless he be a man very indolent indeed. a hundred a year is reckoned a good fellowship, and that is no more than is necessary to keep a man decently as a scholar. we do not allow our fellows to marry, because we consider academical institutions as preparatory to a settlement in the world. it is only by being employed as a tutor, that a fellow can obtain any thing more than a livelihood. to be sure a man, who has enough without teaching, will probably not teach; for we would all be idle if we could[ ]. in the same manner, a man who is to get nothing by teaching, will not exert himself. gresham-college was intended as a place of instruction for london; able professors were to read lectures gratis, they contrived to have no scholars; whereas, if they had been allowed to receive but sixpence a lecture from each scholar, they would have been emulous to have had many scholars. every body will agree that it should be the interest of those who teach to have scholars; and this is the case in our universities[ ]. that they are too rich is certainly not true; for they have nothing good enough to keep a man of eminent learning with them for his life. in the foreign universities a professorship is a high thing. it is as much almost as a man can make by his learning; and therefore we find the most learned men abroad are in the universities[ ]. it is not so with us. our universities are impoverished of learning, by the penury of their provisions. i wish there were many places of a thousand a-year at oxford, to keep first-rate men of learning from quitting the university.' undoubtedly if this were the case, literature would have a still greater dignity and splendour at oxford, and there would be grander living sources of instruction. i mentioned mr. maclaurin's[ ] uneasiness on account of a degree of ridicule carelessly thrown on his deceased father, in goldsmith's _history of animated nature_, in which that celebrated mathematician is represented as being subject to fits of yawning so violent as to render him incapable of proceeding in his lecture; a story altogether unfounded, but for the publication of which the law would give no reparation[ ]. this led us to agitate the question, whether legal redress could be obtained, even when a man's deceased relation was calumniated in a publication. mr. murray maintained there should be reparation, unless the author could justify himself by proving the fact. johnson. 'sir, it is of so much more consequence that truth should be told, than that individuals should not be made uneasy, that it is much better that the law does not restrain writing freely concerning the characters of the dead. damages will be given to a man who is calumniated in his life-time, because he may be hurt in his worldly interest, or at least hurt in his mind: but the law does not regard that uneasiness which a man feels on having his ancestor calumniated[ ]. that is too nice. let him deny what is said, and let the matter have a fair chance by discussion. but, if a man could say nothing against a character but what he can prove, history could not be written; for a great deal is known of men of which proof cannot be brought. a minister may be notoriously known to take bribes, and yet you may not be able to prove it.' mr. murray suggested, that the authour should be obliged to shew some sort of evidence, though he would not require a strict legal proof: but johnson firmly and resolutely opposed any restraint whatever, as adverse to a free investigation of the characters of mankind[ ]. on thursday, april , having called on dr. johnson, i said, it was a pity that truth was not so firm as to bid defiance to all attacks, so that it might be shot at as much as people chose to attempt, and yet remain unhurt. johnson. 'then, sir, it would not be shot at. nobody[ ] attempts to dispute that two and two make four: but with contests concerning moral truth, human passions are generally mixed, and therefore it must ever be liable to assault and misrepresentation.' on friday, april , being good friday, after having attended the morning service at st. clement's church[ ], i walked home with johnson. we talked of the roman catholick religion. johnson. 'in the barbarous ages, sir, priests and people were equally deceived; but afterwards there were gross corruptions introduced by the clergy, such as indulgences to priests to have concubines, and the worship of images, not, indeed, inculcated, but knowingly permitted.' he strongly censured the licensed stews at rome. boswell. 'so then, sir, you would allow of no irregular intercourse whatever between the sexes?' johnson. 'to be sure i would not, sir. i would punish it much more than it is done, and so restrain it. in all countries there has been fornication, as in all countries there has been theft; but there may be more or less of the one, as well as of the other, in proportion to the force of law. all men will naturally commit fornication, as all men will naturally steal. and, sir, it is very absurd to argue, as has been often done, that prostitutes are necessary to prevent the violent effects of appetite from violating the decent order of life; nay, should be permitted, in order to preserve the chastity of our wives and daughters. depend upon it, sir, severe laws, steadily enforced, would be sufficient against those evils, and would promote marriage.' i stated to him this case:--'suppose a man has a daughter, who he knows has been seduced, but her misfortune is concealed from the world? should he keep her in his house? would he not, by doing so, be accessory to imposition? and, perhaps, a worthy, unsuspecting man might come and marry this woman, unless the father inform him of the truth.' johnson. 'sir, he is accessory to no imposition. his daughter is in his house; and if a man courts her, he takes his chance. if a friend, or, indeed, if any man asks his opinion whether he should marry her, he ought to advise him against it, without telling why, because his real opinion is then required. or, if he has other daughters who know of her frailty, he ought not to keep her in his house. you are to consider the state of life is this; we are to judge of one another's characters as well as we can; and a man is not bound, in honesty or honour, to tell us the faults of his daughter or of himself. a man who has debauched his friend's daughter is not obliged to say to every body--"take care of me; don't let me into your houses without suspicion. i once debauched a friend's daughter. i may debauch yours."' mr. thrale called upon him, and appeared to bear the loss of his son with a manly composure. there was no affectation about him; and he talked, as usual, upon indifferent subjects.[ ] he seemed to me to hesitate as to the intended italian tour, on which, i flattered myself, he and mrs. thrale and dr. johnson were soon to set out; and, therefore, i pressed it as much as i could. i mentioned, that mr. beauclerk had said, that baretti, whom they were to carry with them, would keep them so long in the little towns of his own district, that they would not have time to see rome. i mentioned this, to put them on their guard. johnson. 'sir, we do not thank mr. beauclerk for supposing that we are to be directed by baretti. no, sir; mr. thrale is to go, by my advice, to mr. jackson[ ], (the all-knowing) and get from him a plan for seeing the most that can be seen in the time that we have to travel. we must, to be sure, see rome, naples, florence, and venice, and as much more as we can.' (speaking with a tone of animation.) when i expressed an earnest wish for his remarks on italy, he said, 'i do not see that i could make a book upon italy[ ]; yet i should be glad to get two hundred pounds, or five hundred pounds, by such a work.' this shewed both that a journal of his tour upon the continent was not wholly out of his contemplation, and that he uniformly adhered to that strange opinion, which his indolent disposition made him utter: 'no man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money[ ].' numerous instances to refute this will occur to all who are versed in the history of literature.[ ] he gave us one of the many sketches of character which were treasured in his mind, and which he was wont to produce quite unexpectedly in a very entertaining manner. 'i lately, (said he,) received a letter from the east indies, from a gentleman whom i formerly knew very well; he had returned from that country with a handsome fortune, as it was reckoned, before means were found to acquire those immense sums which have been brought from thence of late; he was a scholar, and an agreeable man, and lived very prettily in london, till his wife died. after her death, he took to dissipation and gaming, and lost all he had. one evening he lost a thousand pounds to a gentleman whose name i am sorry i have forgotten. next morning he sent the gentleman five hundred pounds, with an apology that it was all he had in the world. the gentleman sent the money back to him, declaring he would not accept of it; and adding, that if mr. ---- had occasion for five hundred pounds more, he would lend it to him. he resolved to go out again to the east indies, and make his fortune anew. he got a considerable appointment, and i had some intention of accompanying him. had i thought then as i do now, i should have gone: but, at that time, i had objections to quitting england.' it was a very remarkable circumstance about johnson, whom shallow observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that very few men had seen greater variety of characters; and none could observe them better, as was evident from the strong, yet nice portraits which he often drew. i have frequently thought that if he had made out what the french call _une catalogue raisonnée_ of all the people who had passed under his observation, it would have afforded a very rich fund of instruction and entertainment. the suddenness with which his accounts of some of them started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than surprising. i remember he once observed to me, 'it is wonderful, sir, what is to be found in london. the most literary conversation that i ever enjoyed, was at the table of jack ellis, a money-scrivener behind the royal exchange, with whom i at one period used to dine generally once a week[ ].' volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and various acquaintance[ ], none of whom he ever forgot; and could describe and discriminate them all with precision and vivacity. he associated with persons the most widely different in manners, abilities, rank and accomplishments[ ]. he was at once the companion of the brilliant colonel forrester[ ] of the guards, who wrote _the polite philosopher_, and of the aukward and uncouth robert levet; of lord thurlow, and mr. sastres, the italian master; and has dined one day with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating lady craven,[ ] and the next with good mrs. gardiner,[ ] the tallow-chandler, on snow-hill. on my expressing my wonder at his discovering so much of the knowledge peculiar to different professions, he told me, 'i learnt what i know of law, chiefly from mr. ballow,[ ] a very able man. i learnt some, too, from chambers;[ ] but was not so teachable then. one is not willing to be taught by a young man.' when i expressed a wish to know more about mr. ballow, johnson said, 'sir, i have seen him but once these twenty years. the tide of life has driven us different ways.' i was sorry at the time to hear this; but whoever quits the creeks of private connections, and fairly gets into the great ocean of london, will, by imperceptible degrees, unavoidably experience such cessations of acquaintance. 'my knowledge of physick, (he added,) i learnt from dr. james, whom i helped in writing the proposals for his _dictionary_ and also a little in the dictionary itself.[ ] i also learnt from dr. lawrence, but was then grown more stubborn.' a curious incident happened to-day, while mr. thrale and i sat with him. francis announced that a large packet was brought to him from the post-office, said to have come from lisbon, and it was charged _seven pounds ten shillings_. he would not receive it, supposing it to be some trick, nor did he even look at it. but upon enquiry afterwards he found that it was a real packet for him, from that very friend in the east indies of whom he had been speaking; and the ship which carried it having come to portugal, this packet, with others, had been put into the post-office at lisbon. i mentioned a new gaming-club,[ ] of which mr. beauclerk had given me an account, where the members played to a desperate extent. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this is mere talk. _who_ is ruined by gaming? you will not find six instances in an age. there is a strange rout made about deep play: whereas you have many more people ruined by adventurous trade, and yet we do not hear such an outcry against it.' thrale. 'there may be few people absolutely ruined by deep play; but very many are much hurt in their circumstances by it.' johnson. 'yes, sir, and so are very many by other kinds of expence.' i had heard him talk once before in the same manner; and at oxford he said, 'he wished he had learnt to play at cards.'[ ] the truth, however, is, that he loved to display his ingenuity in argument; and therefore would sometimes in conversation maintain opinions which he was sensible were wrong, but in supporting which, his reasoning and wit would be most conspicuous.[ ] he would begin thus: 'why, sir, as to the good or evil of card-playing--' 'now, (said garrick,) he is thinking which side he shall take.'[ ] he appeared to have a pleasure in contradiction, especially when any opinion whatever was delivered with an air of confidence[ ]; so that there was hardly any topick, if not one of the great truths of religion and morality, that he might not have been incited to argue, either for or against. lord elibank[ ] had the highest admiration of his powers. he once observed to me, 'whatever opinion johnson maintains, i will not say that he convinces me; but he never fails to shew me, that he has good reasons for it.' i have heard johnson pay his lordship this high compliment: 'i never was in lord elibank's company without learning something.'[ ] we sat together till it was too late for the afternoon service. thrale said he had come with intention to go to church with us. we went at seven to evening prayers at st. clement's church, after having drank coffee; an indulgence, which i understood johnson yielded to on this occasion, in compliment to thrale[ ]. on sunday, april , easter-day, after having been at st. paul's cathedral, i came to dr. johnson, according to my usual custom. it seemed to me, that there was always something peculiarly mild and placid in his manner upon this holy festival, the commemoration of the most joyful event in the history of our world, the resurrection of our lord and saviour, who, having triumphed over death and the grave, proclaimed immortality to mankind[ ]. i repeated to him an argument of a lady of my acquaintance, who maintained, that her husband's having been guilty of numberless infidelities, released her from conjugal obligations, because they were reciprocal. johnson. 'this is miserable stuff, sir. to the contract of marriage, besides the man and wife, there is a third party--society; and if it be considered as a vow--god: and, therefore, it cannot be dissolved by their consent alone. laws are not made for particular cases, but for men in general. a woman may be unhappy with her husband; but she cannot be freed from him without the approbation of the civil and ecclesiastical power. a man may be unhappy, because he is not so rich as another; but he is not to seize upon another's property with his own hand.' boswell. 'but, sir, this lady does not want that the contract should be dissolved; she only argues that she may indulge herself in gallantries with equal freedom as her husband does, provided she takes care not to introduce a spurious issue into his family. you know, sir, what macrobius has told us of julia.[ ]' johnson. 'this lady of yours, sir, i think, is very fit for a brothel.' mr. macbean[ ], authour of the _dictionary of ancient geography_, came in. he mentioned that he had been forty years absent from scotland. 'ah, boswell! (said johnson, smiling,) what would you give to be forty years from scotland?' i said, 'i should not like to be so long absent from the seat of my ancestors.' this gentleman, mrs. williams, and mr. levet, dined with us. dr. johnson made a remark, which both mr. macbean and i thought new. it was this: that 'the law against usury is for the protection of creditors as well as of debtors; for if there were no such check, people would be apt, from the temptation of great interest, to lend to desperate persons, by whom they would lose their money. accordingly there are instances of ladies being ruined, by having injudiciously sunk their fortunes for high annuities, which, after a few years, ceased to be paid, in consequence of the ruined circumstances of the borrower.' mrs. williams was very peevish; and i wondered at johnson's patience with her now, as i had often done on similar occasions. the truth is, that his humane consideration of the forlorn and indigent state in which this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the utmost tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amusement, so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with him to their houses, where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of her blindness, she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice sensations.[ ] after coffee, we went to afternoon service in st. clement's church. observing some beggars in the street as we walked along, i said to him i supposed there was no civilised country in the world, where the misery of want in the lowest classes of the people was prevented. johnson. 'i believe, sir, there is not; but it is better that some should be unhappy, than that none should be happy, which would be the case in a general state of equality.'[ ] when the service was ended, i went home with him, and we sat quietly by ourselves. he recommended dr. cheyne's books. i said, i thought cheyne had been reckoned whimsical. 'so he was, (said he,) in some things; but there is no end of objections. there are few books to which some objection or other may not be made.' he added, 'i would not have you read anything else of cheyne, but his book on health, and his _english malady_.'[ ] upon the question whether a man who had been guilty of vicious actions would do well to force himself into solitude and sadness; johnson. 'no, sir, unless it prevent him from being vicious again. with some people, gloomy penitence is only madness turned upside down. a man may be gloomy, till, in order to be relieved from gloom, he has recourse again to criminal indulgencies.'[ ] on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, where were mr. murphy and some other company. before dinner, dr. johnson and i passed some time by ourselves. i was sorry to find it was now resolved that the proposed journey to italy should not take place this year.[ ] he said, 'i am disappointed, to be sure; but it is not a great disappointment.' i wondered to see him bear, with a philosophical calmness, what would have made most people peevish and fretful. i perceived, however, that he had so warmly cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could not easily part with the scheme; for he said, 'i shall probably contrive to get to italy some other way. but i won't mention it to mr. and mrs. thrale, as it might vex them.' i suggested, that going to italy might have done mr. and mrs. thrale good. johnson. 'i rather believe not, sir. while grief is fresh, every attempt to divert only irritates. you must wait till grief be _digested_, and then amusement will dissipate the remains of it.' at dinner, mr. murphy entertained us with the history of mr. joseph simpson,[ ] a schoolfellow of dr. johnson's, a barrister at law, of good parts, but who fell into a dissipated course of life, incompatible with that success in his profession which he once had, and would otherwise have deservedly maintained; yet he still preserved a dignity in his deportment. he wrote a tragedy on the story of leonidas, entitled _the patriot_. he read it to a company of lawyers, who found so many faults, that he wrote it over again: so then there were two tragedies on the same subject and with the same title. dr. johnson told us, that one of them was still in his possession. this very piece was, after his death, published by some person who had been about him, and, for the sake of a little hasty profit, was fallaciously advertised, so as to make it be believed to have been written by johnson himself. i said, i disliked the custom which some people had of bringing their children into company,[ ] because it in a manner forced us to pay foolish compliments to please their parents. johnson. 'you are right, sir. we may be excused for not caring much about other people's children, for there are many who care very little about their own children. it may be observed, that men, who from being engaged in business, or from their course of life in whatever way, seldom see their children, do not care much about them. i myself should not have had much fondness for a child of my own.'[ ] mrs. thrale. 'nay, sir, how can you talk so?' johnson. 'at least, i never wished to have a child.' mr. murphy mentioned dr. johnson's having a design to publish an edition of _cowley_. johnson said, he did not know but he should; and he expressed his disapprobation of dr. hurd, for having published a mutilated edition under the title of _select works of abraham cowley_.[ ] mr. murphy thought it a bad precedent; observing that any authour might be used in the same manner; and that it was pleasing to see the variety of an authour's compositions, at different periods. we talked of flatman's poems; and mrs. thrale observed, that pope had partly borrowed from him _the dying christian to his soul_.[ ] johnson repeated rochester's verses upon flatman[ ], which i think by much too severe: 'nor that slow drudge in swift pindarick strains, flatman, who cowley imitates with pains, and rides a jaded muse, whipt with loose reins.' i like to recollect all the passages that i heard johnson repeat: it stamps a value on them. he told us, that the book entitled _the lives of the poets_, by mr. cibber, was entirely compiled by mr. shiels, a scotchman, one of his amanuenses. 'the bookseller (said he,) gave theophilus cibber, who was then in prison, ten guineas, to allow _mr. cibber_ to be put upon the title-page, as the authour; by this, a double imposition was intended: in the first place, that it was the work of a cibber at all; and, in the second place, that it was the work of old cibber.'[ ] mr. murphy said, that _the memoirs of gray's life_ set him much higher in his estimation than his poems did; 'for you there saw a man constantly at work in literature.' johnson acquiesced in this; but depreciated the book, i thought, very unreasonably. for he said, 'i forced myself to read it, only because it was a common topick of conversation. i found it mighty dull; and, as to the style, it is fit for the second table[ ].' why he thought so i was at a loss to conceive. he now gave it as his opinion, that 'akenside[ ] was a superiour poet both to gray and mason.' talking of the reviews, johnson said, 'i think them very impartial: i do not know an instance of partiality.'[ ] he mentioned what had passed upon the subject of the _monthly_ and _critical reviews_, in the conversation with which his majesty had honoured him.[ ] he expatiated a little more on them this evening. 'the monthly reviewers (said he) are not deists; but they are christians with as little christianity as may be; and are for pulling down all establishments. the critical reviewers are for supporting the constitution both in church and state.[ ] the critical reviewers, i believe, often review without reading the books through; but lay hold of a topick, and write chiefly from their own minds. the monthly reviewers are duller men, and are glad to read the books through.' he talked of lord lyttelton's extreme anxiety as an authour; observing, that 'he was thirty years in preparing his _history_, and that he employed a man to point it for him; as if (laughing) another man could point his sense better than himself.'[ ] mr. murphy said, he understood his history was kept back several years for fear of smollet[ ]. johnson. 'this seems strange to murphy and me, who never felt that anxiety, but sent what we wrote to the press, and let it take its chance.' mrs. thrale. 'the time has been, sir, when you felt it.' johnson. 'why really, madam, i do not recollect a time when that was the case.' talking of _the spectator_, he said, 'it is wonderful that there is such a proportion of bad papers, in the half of the work which was not written by addison; for there was all the world to write that half, yet not a half of that half is good. one of the finest pieces in the english language is the paper on novelty,[ ] yet we do not hear it talked of. it was written by grove, a dissenting _teacher_.' he would not, i perceived, call him a _clergyman_, though he was candid enough to allow very great merit to his composition. mr. murphy said, he remembered when there were several people alive in london, who enjoyed a considerable reputation merely from having written a paper in _the spectator_. he mentioned particularly mr. ince, who used to frequent tom's coffee-house. 'but (said johnson,) you must consider how highly steele speaks of mr. ince[ ].' he would not allow that the paper[ ] on carrying a boy to travel, signed _philip homebred_, which was reported to be written by the lord chancellor hardwicke, had merit. he said, 'it was quite vulgar, and had nothing luminous.' johnson mentioned dr. barry's[ ] system of physick. 'he was a man (said he,) who had acquired a high reputation in dublin, came over to england, and brought his reputation with him, but had not great success. his notion was, that pulsation occasions death by attrition; and that, therefore, the way to preserve life is to retard pulsation[ ]. but we know that pulsation is strongest in infants, and that we increase in growth while it operates in its regular course; so it cannot be the cause of destruction.' soon after this, he said something very flattering to mrs. thrale, which i do not recollect; but it concluded with wishing her long life. 'sir, (said i,) if dr. barry's system be true, you have now shortened mrs. thrale's life, perhaps, some minutes, by accelerating her pulsation.' on thursday, april [ ], i dined with him at general paoli's, in whose house i now resided, and where i had ever afterwards the honour of being entertained with the kindest attention as his constant guest, while i was in london, till i had a house of my own there. i mentioned my having that morning introduced to mr. garrick, count neni, a flemish nobleman of great rank and fortune, to whom garrick talked of abel drugger[ ] as _a small part_; and related, with pleasant vanity, that a frenchman who had seen him in one of his low characters, exclaimed, '_comment! je ne le crois pas. ce n'est pas monsieur garrick, ce grand homme_!' garrick added, with an appearance of grave recollection, 'if i were to begin life again, i think i should not play those low characters.' upon which i observed, 'sir, you would be in the wrong; for your great excellence is your variety of playing, your representing so well, characters so very different.' johnson. 'garrick, sir, was not in earnest in what he said; for, to be sure, his peculiar excellence is his variety[ ]: and, perhaps, there is not any one character which has not been as well acted by somebody else, as he could do it.' boswell. 'why then, sir, did he talk so?' johnson. 'why, sir, to make you answer as you did.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir; he seemed to dip deep into his mind for the reflection.' johnson. 'he had not far to dip, sir: he said the same thing, probably, twenty times before.' of a nobleman raised at a very early period to high office, he said, 'his parts, sir, are pretty well for a lord; but would not be distinguished in a man who had nothing else but his parts[ ]'. a journey to italy was still in his thoughts[ ]. he said, 'a man who has not been in italy, is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. the grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the mediterranean. on those shores were the four great empires of the world; the assyrian, the persian, the grecian, and the roman.--all our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the mediterranean.' the general observed, that 'the mediterranean would be a noble subject for a poem[ ].' we talked of translation. i said, i could not define it, nor could i think of a similitude to illustrate it; but that it appeared to me the translation of poetry could be only imitation. johnson. 'you may translate books of science exactly. you may also translate history, in so far as it is not embellished with oratory[ ], which is poetical. poetry, indeed, cannot be translated; and, therefore, it is the poets that preserve languages; for we would not be at the trouble to learn a language, if we could have all that is written in it just as well in a translation. but as the beauties of poetry cannot be preserved in any language except that in which it was originally written, we learn the language.' a gentleman maintained that the art of printing had hurt real learning, by disseminating idle writings.--johnson. 'sir, if it had not been for the art of printing, we should now have no learning at all; for books would have perished faster than they could have been transcribed.' this observation seems not just, considering for how many ages books were preserved by writing alone. the same gentleman maintained, that a general diffusion of knowledge among a people was a disadvantage; for it made the vulgar rise above their humble sphere. johnson. 'sir, while knowledge is a distinction, those who are possessed of it will naturally rise above those who are not. merely to read and write was a distinction at first; but we see when reading and writing have become general, the common people keep their stations. and so, were higher attainments to become general the effect would be the same.'[ ] 'goldsmith (he said), referred every thing to vanity; his virtues, and his vices too, were from that motive. he was not a social man. he never exchanged mind with you.' we spent the evening at mr. hoole's. mr. mickle, the excellent translator of _the lusiad_[ ], was there. i have preserved little of the conversation of this evening.[ ] dr. johnson said, 'thomson had a true poetical genius, the power of viewing every thing in a poetical light. his fault is such a cloud of words sometimes, that the sense can hardly peep through. shiels, who compiled _cibber's lives of the poets_[ ], was one day sitting with me. i took down thomson, and read aloud a large portion of him, and then asked,--is not this fine? shiels having expressed the highest admiration. well, sir, (said i,) i have omitted every other line.'[ ] i related a dispute between goldsmith and mr. robert dodsley, one day when they and i were dining at tom davies's, in . goldsmith asserted, that there was no poetry produced in this age. dodsley appealed to his own _collection_[ ], and maintained, that though you could not find a palace like dryden's _ode on st. cecilia's day_, you had villages composed of very pretty houses; and he mentioned particularly _the spleen_[ ]. johnson. 'i think dodsley gave up the question. he and goldsmith said the same thing; only he said it in a softer manner than goldsmith did; for he acknowledged that there was no poetry, nothing that towered above the common mark. you may find wit and humour in verse, and yet no poetry. _hudibras_ has a profusion of these; yet it is not to be reckoned a poem. _the spleen_, in dodsley's _collection_, on which you say he chiefly rested, is not poetry[ ].' boswell. 'does not gray's poetry, sir, tower above the common mark?' johnson. 'yes, sir; but we must attend to the difference between what men in general cannot do if they would, and what every man may do if he would. sixteen-string jack[ ] towered above the common mark.' boswell. 'then, sir, what is poetry?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is much easier to say what it is not. we all _know_ what light is; but it is not easy to _tell_ what it is.' on friday, april , i dined with him at our friend tom davies's, where we met mr. cradock, of leicestershire, authour of _zobeide_, a tragedy[ ]; a very pleasing gentleman, to whom my friend dr. farmer's very excellent _essay on the learning of shakspeare_[ ] is addressed; and dr. harwood, who has written and published various works; particularly a fantastical translation of the new testament, in modern phrase[ ], and with a socinian twist. i introduced aristotle's doctrine in his _art of poetry_, of 'the [greek: katharis ton pathaematon], the purging of the passions,' as the purpose of tragedy[ ]. 'but how are the passions to be purged by terrour and pity?' (said i, with an assumed air of ignorance, to incite him to talk, for which it was often necessary to employ some address)[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, you are to consider what is the meaning of purging in the original sense. it is to expel impurities from the human body. the mind is subject to the same imperfection. the passions are the great movers of human actions; but they are mixed with such impurities, that it is necessary they should be purged or refined by means of terrour and pity. for instance, ambition is a noble passion; but by seeing upon the stage, that a man who is so excessively ambitious as to raise himself by injustice, is punished, we are terrified at the fatal consequences of such a passion. in the same manner a certain degree of resentment is necessary; but if we see that a man carries it too far, we pity the object of it, and are taught to moderate that passion.' my record upon this occasion does great injustice to johnson's expression, which was so forcible and brilliant, that mr. cradock whispered me, 'o that his words were written in a book[ ]!' i observed, the great defect of the tragedy of _othello_ was, that it had not a moral; for that no man could resist the circumstances of suspicion which were artfully suggested to othello's mind. johnson. 'in the first place, sir, we learn from _othello_ this very useful moral, not to make an unequal match; in the second place, we learn not to yield too readily to suspicion. the handkerchief is merely a trick, though a very pretty trick; but there are no other circumstances of reasonable suspicion, except what is related by iago of cassio's warm expressions concerning desdemona in his sleep; and that depended entirely upon the assertion of one man.[ ] no, sir, i think _othello_ has more moral than almost any play.' talking of a penurious gentleman of our acquaintance, johnson said, 'sir, he is narrow, not so much from avarice, as from impotence to spend his money. he cannot find in his heart to pour out a bottle of wine; but he would not much care if it should sour.' he said, he wished to see john dennis's _critical works_ collected. davies said they would not sell. dr. johnson seemed to think otherwise.[ ] davies said of a well-known dramatick authour, that 'he lived upon _potted stories_, and that he made his way as hannibal did, by vinegar; having begun by attacking people; particularly the players.'[ ] he reminded dr. johnson of mr. murphy's having paid him the highest compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story.[ ] johnson and i supt this evening at the crown and anchor tavern, in company with sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, mr. nairne,[ ] now one of the scotch judges, with the title of lord dunsinan, and my very worthy friend, sir william forbes,[ ] of pitsligo. we discussed the question whether drinking improved conversation and benevolence.[ ] sir joshua maintained it did. johnson. 'no, sir: before dinner men meet with great inequality of understanding; and those who are conscious of their inferiority, have the modesty not to talk. when they have drunk wine, every man feels himself happy, and loses that modesty, and grows impudent and vociferous: but he is not improved; he is only not sensible of his defects.' sir joshua said the doctor was talking of the effects of excess in wine; but that a moderate glass enlivened the mind, by giving a proper circulation to the blood. 'i am (said he,) in very good spirits, when i get up in the morning. by dinner-time i am exhausted; wine puts me in the same state as when i got up; and i am sure that moderate drinking makes people talk better.' johnson. 'no, sir; wine gives not light, gay, ideal hilarity; but tumultuous, noisy, clamorous merriment. i have heard none of those drunken,--nay, drunken is a coarse word,--none of those _vinous_ flights.' sir joshua. 'because you have sat by, quite sober, and felt an envy of the happiness of those who were drinking.' johnson. 'perhaps, contempt.[ ]--and, sir, it is not necessary to be drunk one's self, to relish the wit of drunkenness. do we not judge of the drunken wit, of the dialogue between iago and cassio, the most excellent in its kind, when we are quite sober? wit is wit, by whatever means it is produced; and, if good, will appear so at all times. i admit that the spirits are raised by drinking, as by the common participation of any pleasure: cock-fighting, or bear-baiting, will raise the spirits of a company, as drinking does, though surely they will not improve conversation. i also admit, that there are some sluggish men who are improved by drinking; as there are fruits which are not good till they are rotten. there are such men, but they are medlars. i indeed allow that there have been a very few men of talents who were improved by drinking; but i maintain that i am right as to the effects of drinking in general: and let it be considered, that there is no position, however false in its universality, which is not true of some particular man.' sir william forbes said, 'might not a man warmed with wine be like a bottle of beer, which is made brisker by being set before the fire?' 'nay, (said johnson, laughing,) i cannot answer that: that is too much for me.' i observed, that wine did some people harm, by inflaming, confusing, and irritating their minds; but that the experience of mankind had declared in favour of moderate drinking. johnson. 'sir, i do not say it is wrong to produce self complacency by drinking; i only deny that it improves the mind. when i drank wine, i scorned to drink it when in company.[ ] i have drunk many a bottle by myself; in the first place, because i had need of it to raise my spirits; in the second place, because i would have nobody to witness its effects upon me.' he told us, 'almost all his _ramblers_ were written just as they were wanted for the press; that he sent a certain portion of the copy[ ] of an essay, and wrote the remainder, while the former part of it was printing. when it was wanted, and he had fairly sat down to it, he was sure it would be done.'[ ] he said, that for general improvement, a man should read whatever his immediate inclination prompts him to; though, to be sure, if a man has a science to learn, he must regularly and resolutely advance. he added, 'what we read with inclination makes a much stronger impression. if we read without inclination, half the mind is employed in fixing the attention; so there is but one half to be employed on what we read.'[ ] he told us, he read fielding's _amelia_ through without stopping.[ ] he said, 'if a man begins to read in the middle of a book, and feels an inclination to go on, let him not quit it, to go to the beginning. he may perhaps not feel again the inclination.' sir joshua mentioned mr. cumberland's _odes_,[ ] which were just published. johnson. 'why, sir, they would have been thought as good as odes commonly are, if cumberland had not put his name to them; but a name immediately draws censure, unless it be a name that bears down everything before it. nay, cumberland has made his _odes_ subsidiary to the fame of another man.[ ] they might have run well enough by themselves; but he has not only loaded them with a name, but has made them carry double.' we talked of the reviews, and dr. johnson spoke of them as he did at thrale's.[ ] sir joshua said, what i have often thought, that he wondered to find so much good writing employed in them, when the authours were to remain unknown, and so could not have the motive of fame. johnson. 'nay, sir, those who write in them, write well, in order to be paid well.' soon after this day, he went to bath with mr. and mrs. thrale. i had never seen that beautiful city, and wished to take the opportunity of visiting it, while johnson was there. having written to him, i received the following answer. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'why do you talk of neglect? when did i neglect you? if you will come to bath, we shall all be glad to see you. come, therefore, as soon as you can. 'but i have a little business for you at london. bid francis look in the paper-drawer of the chest of drawers in my bed-chamber, for two cases; one for the attorney-general,[ ] and one for the solicitor-general.[ ] they lie, i think, at the top of my papers; otherwise they are somewhere else, and will give me more trouble. 'please to write to me immediately, if they can be found. make my compliments to all our friends round the world, and to mrs. williams at home. 'i am, sir, your, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'search for the papers as soon as you can, that, if it is necessary, i may write to you again before you come down.' on the th of april, i went to bath;[ ] and on my arrival at the pelican inn, found lying for me an obliging invitation from mr. and mrs. thrale, by whom i was agreeably entertained almost constantly during my stay. they were gone to the rooms;[ ] but there was a kind note from dr. johnson, that he should sit at home all the evening. i went to him directly, and before mr. and mrs. thrale returned, we had by ourselves some hours of tea-drinking and talk. i shall group together such of his sayings as i preserved during the few days that i was at bath. of a person[ ] who differed from him in politicks, he said, 'in private life he is a very honest gentleman; but i will not allow him to be so in publick life. people _may_ be honest, though they are doing wrong: that is, between their maker and them. but _we_, who are suffering by their pernicious conduct, are to destroy them. we are sure that ---- acts from interest. we know what his genuine principles were. they who allow their passions to confound the distinctions between right and wrong, are criminal. they may be convinced; but they have not come honestly by their conviction.'[ ] it having been mentioned, i know not with what truth, that a certain female political writer,[ ] whose doctrines he disliked, had of late become very fond of dress, sat hours together at her toilet, and even put on rouge:--johnson. 'she is better employed at her toilet, than using her pen. it is better she should be reddening her own cheeks, than blackening other people's characters.' he told us that 'addison wrote budgell's papers in the _spectator_, at least mended them so much, that he made them almost his own; and that draper, tonson's partner, assured mrs. johnson, that the much admired epilogue to _the distressed mother_, which came out in budgell's name, was in reality written by addison.'[ ] 'the mode of government by one may be ill adapted to a small society, but is best for a great nation. the characteristick of our own government at present is imbecility.[ ] the magistrate dare not call the guards for fear of being hanged. the guards will not come, for fear of being given up to the blind rage of popular juries.'[ ] of the father of one of our friends, he observed, 'he never clarified his notions, by filtrating them through other minds. he had a canal upon his estate, where at one place the bank was too low.--i dug the canal deeper,' said he.[ ] he told me that 'so long ago as [ ] he had read "_the grave_, a poem[ ]," but did not like it much.' i differed from him; for though it is not equal throughout, and is seldom elegantly correct, it abounds in solemn thought, and poetical imagery beyond the common reach. the world has differed from him; for the poem has passed through many editions, and is still much read by people of a serious cast of mind. a literary lady of large fortune[ ] was mentioned, as one who did good to many, but by no means 'by stealth,' and instead of 'blushing to find it fame,[ ] acted evidently from vanity. johnson. 'i have seen no beings who do as much good from benevolence, as she does, from whatever motive. if there are such under the earth, or in the clouds, i wish they would come up, or come down. what soame jenyns says upon this subject is not to be minded; he is a wit. no, sir; to act from pure benevolence is not possible for finite beings. human benevolence is mingled with vanity, interest, or some other motive.'[ ] he would not allow me to praise a lady then at bath; observing 'she does not gain upon me, sir; i think her empty-headed.' he was, indeed, a stern critick upon characters and manners. even mrs. thrale did not escape his friendly animadversion at times. when he and i were one day endeavouring to ascertain, article by article, how one of our friends[ ] could possibly spend as much money in his family as he told us he did, she interrupted us by a lively extravagant sally, on the expence of clothing his children, describing it in a very ludicrous and fanciful manner. johnson looked a little angry, and said, 'nay, madam, when you are declaiming, declaim; and when you are calculating, calculate.' at another time, when she said, perhaps affectedly, 'i don't like to fly.' johnson. 'with _your_ wings, madam, you _must_ fly: but have a care, there are _clippers_ abroad.' how very well was this said, and how fully has experience proved the truth of it! but have they not _clipped_ rather _rudely_, and gone a great deal _closer_ than was necessary?[ ] a gentleman[ ] expressed a wish to go and live three years at otaheité, or new-zealand, in order to obtain a full acquaintance with people, so totally different from all that we have ever known, and be satisfied what pure nature can do for man. johnson. 'what could you learn, sir? what can savages tell, but what they themselves have seen? of the past, or the invisible, they can tell nothing. the inhabitants of otaheité and new-zealand are not in a state of pure nature; for it is plain they broke off from some other people. had they grown out of the ground, you might have judged of a state of pure nature. fanciful people may talk of a mythology being amongst them; but it must be invention. they have once had religion, which has been gradually debased. and what account of their religion can you suppose to be learnt from savages? only consider, sir, our own state: our religion is in a book; we have an order of men whose duty it is to teach it; we have one day in the week set apart for it, and this is in general pretty well observed: yet ask the first ten gross men you meet, and hear what they can tell of their religion.' on monday, april , he and i made an excursion to bristol, where i was entertained with seeing him enquire upon the spot, into the authenticity of 'rowley's poetry,'[ ] as i had seen him enquire upon the spot into the authenticity of 'ossian's poetry.'[ ] george catcot, the pewterer, who was as zealous for rowley, as dr. hugh blair[ ] was for ossian, (i trust my reverend friend will excuse the comparison,) attended us at our inn, and with a triumphant air of lively simplicity called out, 'i'll make dr. johnson a convert.' dr. johnson, at his desire, read aloud some of chatterton's fabricated verses, while catcot stood at the back of his chair, moving himself like a pendulum, and beating time with his feet, and now and then looking into dr. johnson's face, wondering that he was not yet convinced. we called on mr. barret, the surgeon, and saw some of the _originals_ as they were called, which were executed very artificially;[ ] but from a careful inspection of them, and a consideration of the circumstances with which they were attended, we were quite satisfied of the imposture, which, indeed, has been clearly demonstrated from internal evidence, by several able criticks.'[ ] honest catcot seemed to pay no attention whatever to any objections, but insisted, as an end of all controversy, that we should go with him to the tower of the church of st. mary, redcliff, and _view with our own eyes_ the ancient chest in which the manuscripts were found. to this, dr. johnson good-naturedly agreed; and though troubled with a shortness of breathing, laboured up a long flight of steps, till we came to the place where the wonderous chest stood. '_there_, (said catcot, with a bouncing confident credulity,) _there_ is the very chest itself.'[ ] 'after this _ocular demonstration_, there was no more to be said. he brought to my recollection a scotch highlander, a man of learning too, and who had seen the world, attesting, and at the same time giving his reasons for the authenticity of fingal:--'i have heard all that poem when i was young.'--'have you, sir? pray what have you heard?'--'i have heard ossian, oscar, and _every one of them_.' johnson said of chatterton, 'this is the most extraordinary young man that has encountered my knowledge. it is wonderful how the whelp has written such things.'[ ] we were by no means pleased with our inn at bristol. 'let us see now, (said i,) how we should describe it.' johnson was ready with his raillery. 'describe it, sir?--why, it was so bad that boswell wished to be in scotland!' after dr. johnson's return to london,[ ] i was several times with him at his house, where i occasionally slept, in the room that had been assigned to me.[ ] i dined with him at dr. taylor's, at general oglethorpe's, and at general paoli's. to avoid a tedious minuteness, i shall group together what i have preserved of his conversation during this period also, without specifying each scene where it passed, except one, which will be found so remarkable as certainly to deserve a very particular relation. where the place or the persons do not contribute to the zest of the conversation, it is unnecessary to encumber my page with mentioning them. to know of what vintage our wine is, enables us to judge of its value, and to drink it with more relish: but to have the produce of each vine of one vineyard, in the same year, kept separate, would serve no purpose. to know that our wine, (to use an advertising phrase,) is 'of the stock of an ambassadour lately deceased,' heightens its flavour: but it signifies nothing to know the bin where each bottle was once deposited. 'garrick (he observed,) does not play the part of archer in _the beaux stratagem_ well. the gentleman should break out through the footman, which is not the case as he does it.'[ ] 'where there is no education, as in savage countries, men will have the upper hand of women. bodily strength, no doubt, contributes to this; but it would be so, exclusive of that; for it is mind that always governs. when it comes to dry understanding, man has the better.' 'the little volumes entitled _respublicæ_,[ ] which are very well done, were a bookseller's work.' 'there is much talk of the misery which we cause to the brute creation; but they are recompensed by existence[ ]. if they were not useful to man, and therefore protected by him, they would not be nearly so numerous.' this argument is to be found in the able and benignant hutchinson's _moral philosophy_. but the question is, whether the animals who endure such sufferings of various kinds, for the service and entertainment of man, would accept of existence upon the terms on which they have it. madame sévigné[ ], who, though she had many enjoyments, felt with delicate sensibility the prevalence of misery, complains of the task of existence having been imposed upon her without her consent[ ]. 'that man is never happy for the present is so true, that all his relief from unhappiness is only forgetting himself for a little while. life is a progress from want to want, not from enjoyment to enjoyment.'[ ] 'though many men are nominally entrusted with the administration of hospitals and other publick institutions, almost all the good is done by one man, by whom the rest are driven on; owing to confidence in him, and indolence in them.'[ ] 'lord chesterfield's _letters to his son_, i think, might be made a very pretty book. take out the immorality, and it should be put into the hands of every young gentleman. an elegant manner and easiness of behaviour are acquired gradually and imperceptibly. no man can say "i'll be genteel." there are ten genteel women for one genteel man, because they are more restrained. a man without some degree of restraint is insufferable; but we are all less restrained than women. were a woman sitting in company to put out her legs before her as most men do, we should be tempted to kick them in.' no man was a more attentive and nice observer of behaviour in those in whose company he happened to be, than johnson; or, however strange it may seem to many, had a higher estimation of its refinements[ ]. lord eliot informs me, that one day when johnson and he were at dinner at a gentleman's house in london, upon lord chesterfield's letters being mentioned, johnson surprized the company by this sentence: 'every man of any education would rather be called a rascal, than accused of deficiency in _the graces_.' mr. gibbon, who was present, turned to a lady who knew johnson well, and lived much with him, and in his quaint manner, tapping his box, addressed her thus: 'don't you think, madam, (looking towards johnson,) that among _all_ your acquaintance, you could find _one_ exception?' the lady smiled, and seemed to acquiesce.[ ] 'i read (said he,) sharpe's letters on italy over again, when i was at bath. there is a great deal of matter in them.'[ ] 'mrs. williams was angry that thrale's family did not send regularly to her every time they heard from me while i was in the hebrides. little people are apt to be jealous: but they should not be jealous; for they ought to consider, that superiour attention will necessarily be paid to superiour fortune or rank. two persons may have equal merit, and on that account may have an equal claim to attention; but one of them may have also fortune and rank, and so may have a double claim.' talking of his notes on shakspeare, he said, 'i despise those who do not see that i am right in the passage where _as_ is repeated, and "asses of great charge" introduced. that on "to be, or not to be," is disputable.'[ ] a gentleman, whom i found sitting with him one morning, said, that in his opinion the character of an infidel was more detestable than that of a man notoriously guilty of an atrocious crime. i differed from him, because we are surer of the odiousness of the one, than of the errour of the other. johnson. 'sir, i agree with him; for the infidel would be guilty of any crime if he were inclined to it.' 'many things which are false are transmitted from book to book, and gain credit in the world. one of these is the cry against the evil of luxury. now the truth is, that luxury produces much good[ ]. take the luxury of buildings in london. does it not produce real advantage in the conveniency and elegance of accommodation, and this all from the exertion of industry? people will tell you, with a melancholy face, how many builders are in gaol. it is plain they are in gaol, not for building; for rents are not fallen.--a man gives half a guinea for a dish of green peas. how much gardening does this occasion? how many labourers must the competition to have such things early in the market, keep in employment? you will hear it said, very gravely, why was not the half-guinea, thus spent in luxury, given to the poor? to how many might it have afforded a good meal. alas! has it not gone to the _industrious_ poor, whom it is better to support than the _idle_ poor? you are much surer that you are doing good when you _pay_ money to those who work, as the recompence of their labour, than when you _give_ money merely in charity. suppose the ancient luxury of a dish of peacock's brains were to be revived, how many carcases would be left to the poor at a cheap rate: and as to the rout that is made about people who are ruined by extravagance, it is no matter to the nation that some individuals suffer. when so much general productive exertion is the consequence of luxury, the nation does not care though there are debtors in gaol; nay, they would not care though their creditors were there too.'[ ] the uncommon vivacity of general oglethorpe's mind, and variety of knowledge, having sometimes made his conversation seem too desultory, johnson observed, 'oglethorpe, sir, never _completes_ what he has to say.' he on the same account made a similar remark on patrick lord elibank: 'sir, there is nothing _conclusive_ in his talk.'[ ] when i complained of having dined at a splendid table without hearing one sentence of conversation worthy of being remembered, he said, 'sir, there seldom is any such conversation.' boswell. 'why then meet at table?' johnson. 'why to eat and drink together, and to promote kindness; and, sir, this is better done when there is no solid conversation; for when there is, people differ in opinion, and get into bad humour, or some of the company who are not capable of such conversation, are left out, and feel themselves uneasy. it was for this reason, sir robert walpole said, he always talked bawdy at his table, because in that all could join.'[ ] being irritated by hearing a gentleman[ ] ask mr. levett a variety of questions concerning him, when he was sitting by, he broke out, 'sir, you have but two topicks, yourself and me. i am sick of both.' 'a man, (said he,) should not talk of himself, nor much of any particular person. he should take care not to be made a proverb; and, therefore, should avoid having any one topick of which people can say, "we shall hear him upon it."' there was a dr. oldfield, who was always talking of the duke of marlborough. he came into a coffee-house one day, and told that his grace had spoken in the house of lords for half an hour. 'did he indeed speak for half an hour?' (said belchier, the surgeon,)-- 'yes.'--'and what did he say of dr. oldfield?'--'nothing.'--'why then, sir, he was very ungrateful; for dr. oldfield could not have spoken for a quarter of an hour, without saying something of him.' 'every man is to take existence on the terms on which it is given to him[ ]. to some men it is given on condition of not taking liberties, which other men may take without much harm. one may drink wine, and be nothing the worse for it; on another, wine may have effects so inflammatory as to injure him both in body and mind, and perhaps, make him commit something for which he may deserve to be hanged.' 'lord hailes's _annals of scotland_[ ] have not that painted form which is the taste of this age; but it is a book which will always sell, it has such a stability of dates, such a certainty of facts, and such a punctuality of citation. i never before read scotch history with certainty.' i asked him whether he would advise me to read the bible with a commentary, and what commentaries he would recommend. johnson. 'to be sure, sir, i would have you read the bible with a commentary; and i would recommend lowth and patrick on the old testament, and hammond on the new.' during my stay in london this spring, i solicited his attention to another law case, in which i was engaged. in the course of a contested election for the borough of dumfermline, which i attended as one of my friend colonel (afterwards sir archibald) campbell's counsel; one of his political agents, who was charged with having been unfaithful to his employer, and having deserted to the opposite party for a pecuniary reward--attacked very rudely in a news-paper the reverend mr. james thomson, one of the ministers of that place, on account of a supposed allusion to him in one of his sermons. upon this the minister, on a subsequent sunday, arraigned him by name from the pulpit with some severity; and the agent, after the sermon was over, rose up and asked the minister aloud, 'what bribe he had received for telling so many lies from the chair of verity[ ].' i was present at this very extraordinary scene. the person arraigned, and his father and brother, who had also had a share both of the reproof from the pulpit, and in the retaliation, brought an action against mr. thomson, in the court of session, for defamation and damages, and i was one of the counsel for the reverend defendant. the _liberty of the pulpit_ was our great ground of defence; but we argued also on the provocation of the previous attack, and on the instant retaliation. the court of session, however--the fifteen judges, who are at the same time the jury, decided against the minister, contrary to my humble opinion; and several of them expressed themselves with indignation against him. he was an aged gentleman, formerly a military chaplain, and a man of high spirit and honour. johnson was satisfied that the judgement was wrong, and dictated to me the following argument in confutation of it: 'of the censure pronounced from the pulpit, our determination must be formed, as in other cases, by a consideration of the action itself, and the particular circumstances with which it is invested. 'the right of censure and rebuke seems necessarily appendant to the pastoral office. he, to whom the care of a congregation is entrusted, is considered as the shepherd of a flock, as the teacher of a school, as the father of a family. as a shepherd tending not his own sheep but those of his master, he is answerable for those that stray, and that lose themselves by straying. but no man can be answerable for losses which he has not power to prevent, or for vagrancy which he has not authority to restrain. 'as a teacher giving instruction for wages, and liable to reproach, if those whom he undertakes to inform make no proficiency, he must have the power of enforcing attendance, of awakening negligence, and repressing contradiction. 'as a father, he possesses the paternal authority of admonition, rebuke, and punishment. he cannot, without reducing his office to an empty name, be hindered from the exercise of any practice necessary to stimulate the idle, to reform the vicious, to check the petulant, and correct the stubborn. 'if we enquire into the practice of the primitive church, we shall, i believe, find the ministers of the word exercising the whole authority of this complicated character. we shall find them not only encouraging the good by exhortation, but terrifying the wicked by reproof and denunciation. in the earliest ages of the church, while religion was yet pure from secular advantages, the punishment of sinners was publick censure, and open penance; penalties inflicted merely by ecclesiastical authority, at a time while the church had yet no help from the civil power; while the hand of the magistrate lifted only the rod of persecution; and when governours were ready to afford a refuge to all those who fled from clerical authority. 'that the church, therefore, had once a power of publick censure is evident, because that power was frequently exercised. that it borrowed not its power from the civil authority, is likewise certain, because civil authority was at that time its enemy. 'the hour came at length, when after three hundred years of struggle and distress, truth took possession of imperial power, and the civil laws lent their aid to the ecclesiastical constitutions. the magistrate from that time co-operated with the priest, and clerical sentences were made efficacious by secular force. but the state, when it came to the assistance of the church, had no intention to diminish its authority. those rebukes and those censures which were lawful before, were lawful still. but they had hitherto operated only upon voluntary submission. the refractory and contemptuous were at first in no danger of temporal severities, except what they might suffer from the reproaches of conscience, or the detestation of their fellow christians. when religion obtained the support of law, if admonitions and censures had no effect, they were seconded by the magistrates with coercion and punishment. 'it therefore appears from ecclesiastical history, that the right of inflicting shame by publick censure, has been always considered as inherent in the church; and that this right was not conferred by the civil power; for it was exercised when the civil power operated against it. by the civil power it was never taken away; for the christian magistrate interposed his office, not to rescue sinners from censure, but to supply more powerful means of reformation; to add pain where shame was insufficient; and when men were proclaimed unworthy of the society of the faithful, to restrain them by imprisonment, from spreading abroad the contagion of wickedness. 'it is not improbable that from this acknowledged power of publick censure, grew in time the practice of auricular confession. those who dreaded the blast of publick reprehension, were willing to submit themselves to the priest, by a private accusation of themselves; and to obtain a reconciliation with the church by a kind of clandestine absolution and invisible penance; conditions with which the priest would in times of ignorance and corruption, easily comply, as they increased his influence, by adding the knowledge of secret sins to that of notorious offences, and enlarged his authority, by making him the sole arbiter of the terms of reconcilement. 'from this bondage the reformation set us free. the minister has no longer power to press into the retirements of conscience, to torture us by interrogatories, or put himself in possession of our secrets and our lives. but though we have thus controlled his usurpations, his just and original power remains unimpaired. he may still see, though he may not pry: he may yet hear, though he may not question. and that knowledge which his eyes and ears force upon him it is still his duty to use, for the benefit of his flock. a father who lives near a wicked neighbour, may forbid a son to frequent his company. a minister who has in his congregation a man of open and scandalous wickedness, may warn his parishioners to shun his conversation. to warn them is not only lawful, but not to warn them would be criminal. he may warn them one by one in friendly converse, or by a parochial visitation. but if he may warn each man singly, what shall forbid him to warn them altogether? of that which is to be made known to all, how is there any difference whether it be communicated to each singly, or to all together? what is known to all, must necessarily be publick. whether it shall be publick at once, or publick by degrees, is the only question. and of a sudden and solemn publication the impression is deeper, and the warning more effectual. 'it may easily be urged, if a minister be thus left at liberty to delate sinners from the pulpit, and to publish at will the crimes of a parishioner, he may often blast the innocent, and distress the timorous. he may be suspicious, and condemn without evidence; he may be rash, and judge without examination; he may be severe, and treat slight offences with too much harshness; he may be malignant and partial, and gratify his private interest or resentment under the shelter of his pastoral character. 'of all this there is possibility, and of all this there is danger. but if possibility of evil be to exclude good, no good ever can be done. if nothing is to be attempted in which there is danger, we must all sink into hopeless inactivity. the evils that may be feared from this practice arise not from any defect in the institution, but from the infirmities of human nature. power, in whatever hands it is placed, will be sometimes improperly exerted; yet courts of law must judge, though they will sometimes judge amiss. a father must instruct his children, though he himself may often want instruction. a minister must censure sinners, though his censure may be sometimes erroneous by want of judgement, and sometimes unjust by want of honesty. 'if we examine the circumstances of the present case, we shall find the sentence neither erroneous nor unjust; we shall find no breach of private confidence, no intrusion into secret transactions. the fact was notorious and indubitable; so easy to be proved, that no proof was desired. the act was base and treacherous, the perpetration insolent and open, and the example naturally mischievous. the minister, however, being retired and recluse, had not yet heard what was publickly known throughout the parish; and on occasion of a publick election, warned his people, according to his duty, against the crimes which publick elections frequently produce. his warning was felt by one of his parishioners, as pointed particularly at himself. but instead of producing, as might be wished, private compunction and immediate reformation, it kindled only rage and resentment. he charged his minister, in a publick paper, with scandal, defamation, and falsehood. the minister, thus reproached, had his own character to vindicate, upon which his pastoral authority must necessarily depend. to be charged with a defamatory lie is an injury which no man patiently endures in common life. to be charged with polluting the pastoral office with scandal and falsehood, was a violation of character still more atrocious, as it affected not only his personal but his clerical veracity. his indignation naturally rose in proportion to his honesty, and with all the fortitude of injured honesty, he dared this calumniator in the church, and at once exonerated himself from censure, and rescued his flock from deception and from danger. the man whom he accuses pretends not to be innocent; or at least only pretends; for he declines a trial. the crime of which he is accused has frequent opportunities and strong temptations. it has already spread far, with much depravation of private morals, and much injury to publick happiness. to warn the people, therefore, against it was not wanton and officious, but necessary and pastoral. 'what then is the fault with which this worthy minister is charged? he has usurped no dominion over conscience. he has exerted no authority in support of doubtful and controverted opinions. he has not dragged into light a bashful and corrigible sinner. his censure was directed against a breach of morality, against an act which no man justifies. the man who appropriated this censure to himself, is evidently and notoriously guilty. his consciousness of his own wickedness incited him to attack his faithful reprover with open insolence and printed accusations. such an attack made defence necessary; and we hope it will be at last decided that the means of defence were just and lawful.' when i read this to mr. burke, he was highly pleased, and exclaimed, 'well; he does his work in a workman-like manner.'[ ] mr. thomson wished to bring the cause by appeal before the house of lords, but was dissuaded by the advice of the noble person who lately presided so ably in that most honourable house, and who was then attorney-general. as my readers will no doubt be glad also to read the opinion of this eminent man upon the same subject, i shall here insert it. case. 'there is herewith laid before you, . petition for the reverend mr. james thomson, minister of dumfermline. . answers thereto. . copy of the judgement of the court of session upon both. . notes of the opinions of the judges, being the reasons upon which their decree is grounded. 'these papers you will please to peruse, and give your opinion, whether there is a probability of the above decree of the court of session's being reversed, if mr. thomson should appeal from the same?' 'i don't think the appeal adviseable: not only because the value of the judgement is in no degree adequate to the expence; but because there are many chances, that upon the general complexion of the case, the impression will be taken to the disadvantage of the appellant. 'it is impossible to approve the style of that sermon. but the _complaint_ was not less ungracious from that man, who had behaved so ill by his original libel, and, at the time, when he received the reproach he complains of. in the last article, all the plaintiffs are equally concerned. it struck me also with some wonder, that the judges should think so much fervour apposite to the occasion of reproving the defendant for a little excess. 'upon the matter, however, i agree with them in condemning the behaviour of the minister; and in thinking it a subject fit for ecclesiastical censure; and even for an action, if any individual could qualify[ ] a wrong, and a damage arising from it. but this i doubt. the circumstance of publishing the reproach in a pulpit, though extremely indecent, and culpable in another view, does not constitute a different sort of wrong, or any other rule of law, than would have obtained, if the same words had been pronounced elsewhere. i don't know whether there be any difference in the law of scotland, in the definition of slander, before the commissaries, or the court of session. the common law of england does not give way to actions for every reproachful word. an action cannot be brought for general damages, upon any words which import less than an offence cognisable by law; consequently no action could have been brought here for the words in question. both laws admit the truth to be a justification in action _for words_; and the law of england does the same in actions for libels. the judgement, therefore, seems to me to have been wrong, in that the court repelled that defence. 'e. thurlow.' i am now to record a very curious incident in dr. johnson's life, which fell under my own observation; of which _pars magna fui_,[ ] and which i am persuaded will, with the liberal-minded, be much to his credit. my desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description, had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to dr. samuel johnson and to john wilkes, esq. two men more different could perhaps not be selected out of all mankind. they had even attacked one another with some asperity[ ] in their writings; yet i lived in habits of friendship with both[ ]. i could fully relish the excellence of each; for i have ever delighted in that intellectual chymistry, which can separate good qualities from evil in the same person. sir john pringle, 'mine own friend and my father's friend,' between whom and dr. johnson i in vain wished to establish an acquaintance[ ], as i respected and lived in intimacy with both of them, observed to me once, very ingeniously, 'it is not in friendship as in mathematicks, where two things, each equal to a third, are equal between themselves. you agree with johnson as a middle quality, and you agree with me as a middle quality; but johnson and i should not agree.' sir john was not sufficiently flexible; so i desisted; knowing, indeed, that the repulsion was equally strong on the part of johnson; who, i know not from what cause, unless his being a scotchman, had formed a very erroneous opinion of sir john. but i conceived an irresistible wish, if possible, to bring dr. johnson and mr. wilkes together. how to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter. my worthy booksellers and friends, messieurs dilly in the poultry[ ], at whose hospitable and well-covered table i have seen a greater number of literary men, than at any other, except that of sir joshua reynolds, had invited me to meet mr. wilkes and some more gentlemen on wednesday, may . 'pray (said i,) let us have dr. johnson.'--'what with mr. wilkes? not for the world, (said mr. edward dilly:) dr. johnson would never forgive me.'--'come, (said i,) if you'll let me negociate for you, i will be answerable that all shall go well.' dilly. 'nay, if you will take it upon you, i am sure i shall be very happy to see them both here.' notwithstanding the high veneration which i entertained for dr. johnson, i was sensible that he was sometimes a little actuated by the spirit of contradiction, and by means of that i hoped i should gain my point. i was persuaded that if i had come upon him with a direct proposal, 'sir, will you dine in company with jack wilkes?' he would have flown into a passion, and would probably have answered, 'dine with jack wilkes, sir! i'd as soon dine with jack ketch[ ].' i therefore, while we were sitting quietly, by ourselves at his house in an evening, took occasion to open my plan thus:--'mr. dilly, sir, sends his respectful compliments to you, and would be happy if you would do him the honour to dine with him on wednesday next along with me, as i must soon go to scotland.' johnson. 'sir, i am obliged to mr. dilly. i will wait upon him--'boswell. 'provided, sir, i suppose, that the company which he is to have, is agreeable to you.' johnson. 'what do you mean, sir? what do you take me for? do you think i am so ignorant of the world, as to imagine that i am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?' boswell. 'i beg your pardon, sir, for wishing to prevent you from meeting people whom you might not like. perhaps he may have some of what he calls his patriotick friends with him.' johnson. 'well, sir, and what then? what care _i_ for his _patriotick friends_[ ]? poh!' boswell. 'i should not be surprized to find jack wilkes there.' johnson. 'and if jack wilkes _should_ be there, what is that to _me_, sir? my dear friend, let us have no more of this. i am sorry to be angry with you; but really it is treating me strangely to talk to me as if i could not meet any company whatever, occasionally.' boswell. 'pray forgive me, sir: i meant well. but you shall meet whoever comes, for me.' thus i secured him, and told dilly that he would find him very well pleased to be one of his guests on the day appointed. upon the much-expected wednesday, i called on him about half an hour before dinner, as i often did when we were to dine out together, to see that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. i found him buffeting his books, as upon a former occasion[ ], covered with dust, and making no preparation for going abroad. 'how is this, sir? (said i.) don't you recollect that you are to dine at mr. dilly's?' johnson. 'sir, i did not think of going to dilly's: it went out of my head. i have ordered dinner at home with mrs. williams.' boswell, 'but, my dear sir, you know you were engaged to mr. dilly, and i told him so. he will expect you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come.' johnson. 'you must talk to mrs. williams about this.' here was a sad dilemma. i feared that what i was so confident i had secured would yet be frustrated. he had accustomed himself to shew mrs. williams such a degree of humane attention, as frequently imposed some restraint upon him; and i knew that if she should be obstinate, he would not stir. i hastened down stairs to the blind lady's room, and told her i was in great uneasiness, for dr. johnson had engaged to me to dine this day at mr. dilly's, but that he had told me he had forgotten his engagement, and had ordered dinner at home. 'yes, sir, (said she, pretty peevishly,) dr. johnson is to dine at home,'--'madam, (said i,) his respect for you is such, that i know he will not leave you unless you absolutely desire it. but as you have so much of his company, i hope you will be good enough to forego it for a day; as mr. dilly is a very worthy man, has frequently had agreeable parties at his house for dr. johnson, and will be vexed if the doctor neglects him to-day. and then, madam, be pleased to consider my situation; i carried the message, and i assured mr. dilly that dr. johnson was to come, and no doubt he has made a dinner, and invited a company, and boasted of the honour he expected to have. i shall be quite disgraced if the doctor is not there.' she gradually softened to my solicitations, which were certainly as earnest as most entreaties to ladies upon any occasion, and was graciously pleased to empower me to tell dr. johnson, 'that all things considered she thought he should certainly go.' i flew back to him still in dust, and careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to go or stay[ ];' but as soon as i had announced to him mrs. williams' consent, he roared, 'frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon drest. when i had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, i exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for gretna-green. when we entered mr. dilly's drawing room, he found himself in the midst of a company he did not know. i kept myself snug and silent, watching how he would conduct himself. i observed him whispering to mr. dilly, 'who is that gentleman, sir?'--'mr. arthur lee.'--johnson. 'too, too, too,' (under his breath,) which was one of his habitual mutterings[ ]. mr. arthur lee could not but be very obnoxious to johnson, for he was not only a _patriot_ but an _american_[ ]. he was afterwards minister from the united states at the court of madrid. 'and who is the gentleman in lace?'--'mr. wilkes, sir.' this information confounded him still more; he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he composed himself. his feelings, i dare say, were aukward enough. but he no doubt recollected his having rated me for supposing that he could be at all disconcerted by any company, and he, therefore, resolutely set himself to behave quite as an easy man of the world, who could adapt himself at once to the disposition and manners of those whom he might chance to meet. the cheering sound of 'dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his reverie, and we _all_ sat down without any symptom of ill humour. there were present, beside mr. wilkes, and mr. arthur lee, who was an old companion of mine when he studied physick at edinburgh, mr. (now sir john) miller, dr. lettsom, and mr. slater the druggist. mr. wilkes placed himself next to dr. johnson, and behaved to him with so much attention and politeness[ ], that he gained upon him insensibly. no man eat more heartily than johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate. mr. wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'pray give me leave, sir:--it is better here--a little of the brown--some fat, sir--a little of the stuffing--some gravy--let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter--allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'sir, sir, i am obliged to you, sir,' cried johnson, bowing, and turning--his head to him with a look for some time of 'surly virtue,'[ ] but, in a short while, of complacency. foote being mentioned, johnson said. 'he is not a good mimick[ ].' one of the company added, 'a merry andrew, a buffoon.' johnson. 'but he has wit too, and is not deficient in ideas, or in fertility and variety of imagery, and not empty of reading; he has knowledge enough to fill up his part. one species of wit he has in an eminent degree, that of escape. you drive him into a corner with both hands; but he's gone, sir, when you think you have got him--like an animal that jumps over your head. then he has a great range for wit; he never lets truth stand between him and a jest, and he is sometimes mighty coarse. garrick is under many restraints from which foote is free[ ].' wilkes. 'garrick's wit is more like lord chesterfield's.' johnson. 'the first time i was in company with foote was at fitzherbert's. having no good opinion of the fellow, i was resolved not to be pleased; and it is very difficult to please a man against his will[ ]. i went on eating my dinner pretty sullenly, affecting not to mind him. but the dog was so very comical, that i was obliged to lay down my knife and fork, throw myself back upon my chair, and fairly laugh it out. no, sir, he was irresistible[ ]. he upon one occasion experienced, in an extraordinary degree, the efficacy of his powers of entertaining. amongst the many and various modes which he tried of getting money, he became a partner with a small-beer brewer, and he was to have a share of the profits for procuring customers amongst his numerous acquaintance. fitzherbert was one who took his small-beer; but it was so bad that the servants resolved not to drink it. they were at some loss how to notify their resolution, being afraid of offending their master, who they knew liked foote much as a companion. at last they fixed upon a little black boy, who was rather a favourite, to be their deputy, and deliver their remonstrance; and having invested him with the whole authority of the kitchen, he was to inform mr. fitzherbert, in all their names, upon a certain day, that they would drink foote's small-beer no longer. on that day foote happened to dine at fitzherbert's, and this boy served at table; he was so delighted with foote's stories, and merriment, and grimace, that when he went down stairs, he told them, "this is the finest man i have ever seen. i will not deliver your message. i will drink his small-beer."' somebody observed that garrick could not have done this. wilkes. 'garrick would have made the small-beer still smaller. he is now leaving the stage; but he will play _scrub_[ ] all his life.' i knew that johnson would let nobody attack garrick but himself[ ], as garrick once said to me, and i had heard him praise his liberality; so to bring out his commendation of his celebrated pupil, i said, loudly, 'i have heard garrick is liberal[ ].' johnson. 'yes, sir, i know that garrick has given away more money than any man in england that i am acquainted with, and that not from ostentatious views. garrick was very poor when he began life; so when he came to have money, he probably was very unskilful in giving away, and saved when he should not. but garrick began to be liberal as soon as he could; and i am of opinion, the reputation of avarice which he has had, has been very lucky for him, and prevented his having many enemies. you despise a man for avarice, but do not hate him. garrick might have been much better attacked for living with more splendour than is suitable to a player:[ ] if they had had the wit to have assaulted him in that quarter, they might have galled him more. but they have kept clamouring about his avarice, which has rescued him from much obloquy and envy.' talking of the great difficulty of obtaining authentick information for biography,[ ] johnson told us, 'when i was a young fellow i wanted to write the _life of dryden_, and in order to get materials, i applied to the only two persons then alive who had seen him;[ ] these were old swinney[ ] and old cibber. swinney's information was no more than this, "that at will's coffee-house dryden had a particular chair for himself, which was set by the fire in winter, and was then called his winter-chair; and that it was carried out for him to the balcony in summer, and was then called his summer-chair." cibber could tell no more but "that he remembered him a decent old man, arbiter of critical disputes at will's[ ]." you are to consider that cibber was then at a great distance from dryden, had perhaps one leg only in the room, and durst not draw in the other.' boswell. 'yet cibber was a man of observation?' johnson. 'i think not.'[ ] boswell. 'you will allow his _apology_ to be well done.' johnson. 'very well done, to be sure, sir.[ ] that book is a striking proof of the justice of pope's remark: "each might his several province well command, would all but stoop to what they understand[ ]." boswell. 'and his plays are good.' johnson. 'yes; but that was his trade; _l'esprit du corps_; he had been all his life among players and play-writers.[ ] i wondered that he had so little to say in conversation, for he had kept the best company, and learnt all that can be got by the ear. he abused pindar to me, and then shewed me an ode of his own, with an absurd couplet, making a linnet soar on an eagle's wing[ ]. i told him that when the ancients made a simile, they always made it like something real.' mr. wilkes remarked, that 'among all the bold flights of shakspeare's imagination, the boldest was making birnamwood march to dunsinane; creating a wood where there never was a shrub; a wood in scotland! ha! ha! ha!' and he also observed, that 'the clannish slavery of the highlands of scotland was the single exception to milton's remark of "the mountain nymph, sweet liberty[ ]," being worshipped in all hilly countries.'--'when i was at inverary (said he,) on a visit to my old friend, archibald, duke of argyle, his dependents congratulated me on being such a favourite of his grace. i said, "it is then, gentlemen, truely lucky for me; for if i had displeased the duke, and he had wished it, there is not a campbell among you but would have been ready to bring john wilkes's head to him in a charger. it would have been only '"'off with his head! so much for aylesbury[ ].'" 'i was then member for aylesbury.' dr. johnson and mr. wilkes talked of the contested passage in horace's _art of poetry_[ ], '_difficile est propriè communia dicere_.' mr. wilkes according to my note, gave the interpretation thus; 'it is difficult to speak with propriety of common things; as, if a poet had to speak of queen caroline drinking tea, he must endeavour to avoid the vulgarity of cups and saucers.' but upon reading my note, he tells me that he meant to say, that 'the word _communia_, being a roman law term, signifies here things _communis juris_, that is to say, what have never yet been treated by any body; and this appears clearly from what followed, "--tuque rectiùs iliacum carmen deducis in actus quàm si proferres ignota indictaque primus." 'you will easier make a tragedy out of the _iliad_ than on any subject not handled before[ ].' johnson. 'he means that it is difficult to appropriate to particular persons qualities which are common to all mankind, as homer has done.' wilkes. 'we have no city-poet now: that is an office which has gone into disuse. the last was elkanah settle. there is something in _names_ which one cannot help feeling. now _elkanah settle_ sounds so _queer_, who can expect much from that name? we should have no hesitation to give it for john dryden, in preference to elkanah settle, from the names only, without knowing their different merits[ ].' johnson. 'i suppose, sir, settle did as well for aldermen in his time, as john home could do now. where did beckford and trecothick learn english[ ]?' mr. arthur lee mentioned some scotch who had taken possession of a barren part of america, and wondered why they should choose it. johnson. 'why, sir, all barrenness is comparative. the _scotch_ would not know it to be barren.' boswell. 'come, come, he is flattering the english. you have now been in scotland, sir, and say if you did not see meat and drink enough there.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; meat and drink enough to give the inhabitants sufficient strength to run away from home.' all these quick and lively sallies were said sportively, quite in jest, and with a smile, which showed that he meant only wit. upon this topick he and mr. wilkes could perfectly assimilate; here was a bond of union between them, and i was conscious that as both of them had visited caledonia, both were fully satisfied of the strange narrow ignorance of those who imagine that it is a land of famine.[ ] but they amused themselves with persevering in the old jokes. when i claimed a superiority for scotland over england in one respect, that no man can be arrested there for a debt merely because another swears it against him; but there must first be the judgement of a court of law ascertaining its justice; and that a seizure of the person, before judgement is obtained, can take place only, if his creditor should swear that he is about to fly from the country, or, as it is technically expressed, is _in meditatione fugae_: wilkes. 'that, i should think, may be safely sworn of all the scotch nation.' johnson. (to mr. wilkes) 'you must know, sir, i lately took my friend boswell and shewed him genuine civilised life in an english provincial town. i turned him loose at lichfield, my native city, that he might see for once real civility:[ ] for you know he lives among savages in scotland, and among rakes in london.' wilkes. 'except when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you and me.' johnson, (smiling) 'and we ashamed of him.' they were quite frank and easy. johnson told the story[ ] of his asking mrs. macaulay to allow her footman to sit down with them, to prove the ridiculousness of the argument for the equality of mankind; and he said to me afterwards, with a nod of satisfaction, 'you saw mr. wilkes acquiesced.' wilkes talked with all imaginable freedom of the ludicrous title given to the attorney-general, _diabolus regis_; adding, 'i have reason to know something about that officer; for i was prosecuted for a libel.' johnson, who many people would have supposed must have been furiously angry at hearing this talked of so lightly, said not a word. he was now, _indeed_, 'a good-humoured fellow.'[ ] after dinner we had an accession of mrs. knowles,[ ] the quaker lady, well known for her various talents, and of mr. alderman lee. amidst some patriotick groans, somebody (i think the alderman) said, 'poor old england is lost.' johnson. 'sir, it is not so much to be lamented that old england is lost, as that the scotch have found it.'[ ] wilkes. 'had lord bute governed scotland only, i should not have taken the trouble to write his eulogy, and dedicate _mortimer_ to him.'[ ] mr. wilkes held a candle to shew a fine print of a beautiful female figure which hung in the room, and pointed out the elegant contour of the bosom with the finger of an arch connoisseur. he afterwards, in a conversation with me, waggishly insisted, that all the time johnson shewed visible signs of a fervent admiration of the corresponding charms of the fair quaker. this record, though by no means so perfect as i could wish, will serve to give a notion of a very curious interview, which was not only pleasing at the time, but had the agreeable and benignant effect of reconciling any animosity, and sweetening any acidity, which in the various bustle of political contest, had been produced in the minds of two men, who though widely different, had so many things in common--classical learning, modern literature, wit, and humour, and ready repartee--that it would have been much to be regretted if they had been for ever at a distance from each other.[ ] mr. burke gave me much credit for this successful _negociation_; and pleasantly said, that 'there was nothing to equal it in the whole history of the _corps diplomatique_'. i attended dr. johnson home, and had the satisfaction to hear him tell mrs. williams how much he had been pleased with mr. wilkes's company, and what an agreeable day he had passed.[ ] i talked a good deal to him of the celebrated margaret caroline rudd, whom i had visited, induced by the fame of her talents, address, and irresistible power of fascination[ ]. to a lady who disapproved of my visiting her, he said on a former occasion[ ], 'nay, madam, boswell is in the right; i should have visited her myself, were it not that they have now a trick of putting every thing into the news-papers.' this evening he exclaimed, 'i envy him his acquaintance with mrs. rudd.' i mentioned a scheme which i had of making a tour to the isle of man, and giving a full account of it; and that mr. burke had playfully suggested as a motto, 'the proper study of mankind is man.'[ ] johnson. 'sir, you will get more by the book than the jaunt will cost you; so you will have your diversion for nothing, and add to your reputation.' on the evening of the next day i took leave of him, being to set out for scotland[ ]. i thanked him with great warmth for all his kindness. 'sir, (said he,) you are very welcome. nobody repays it with more.' how very false is the notion which has gone round the world of the rough, and passionate, and harsh manners of this great and good man. that he had occasional sallies of heat of temper, and that he was sometimes, perhaps, too 'easily provoked[ ]' by absurdity and folly, and sometimes too desirous of triumph in colloquial contest, must be allowed. the quickness both of his perception and sensibility disposed him to sudden explosions of satire; to which his extraordinary readiness of wit was a strong and almost irresistible incitement. to adopt one of the finest images in mr. home's _douglas_[ ], 'on each glance of thought decision followed, as the thunderbolt pursues the flash!' i admit that the beadle within him was often so eager to apply the lash, that the judge had not time to consider the case with sufficient deliberation. that he was occasionally remarkable for violence of temper may be granted: but let us ascertain the degree, and not let it be supposed that he was in a perpetual rage, and never without a club in his hand, to knock down every one who approached him. on the contrary, the truth is, that by much the greatest part of his time he was civil, obliging, nay, polite in the true sense of the word; so much so, that many gentlemen, who were long acquainted with him, never received, or even heard a strong expression from him.[ ] the following letters concerning an epitaph which he wrote for the monument of dr. goldsmith, in westminster-abbey, afford at once a proof of his unaffected modesty, his carelessness as to his own writings, and of the great respect which he entertained for the taste and judgement of the excellent and eminent person to whom they are addressed: 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'i have been kept away from you, i know not well how, and of these vexatious hindrances i know not when there will be an end. i therefore send you the poor dear doctor's epitaph. read it first yourself; and if you then think it right, shew it to the club. i am, you know, willing to be corrected. if you think any thing much amiss, keep it to yourself, till we come together. i have sent two copies, but prefer the card. the dates must be settled by dr. percy. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' to the same. 'sir, 'miss reynolds has a mind to send the epitaph to dr. beattie; i am very willing, but having no copy, cannot immediately recollect it. she tells me you have lost it. try to recollect and put down as much as you retain; you perhaps may have kept what i have dropped. the lines for which i am at a loss are something of _rerum civilium sivè naturalium_.'[ ] it was a sorry trick to lose it; help me if you can. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , . 'the gout grows better but slowly[ ].' it was, i think, after i had left london this year, that this epitaph gave occasion to a _remonstrance_ to the monarch of literature, for an account of which i am indebted to sir william forbes, of pitsligo. that my readers may have the subject more fully and clearly before them, i shall first insert the epitaph. olivarii goldsmith, _poetae, physici, historici, qui nullum ferè scribendi genus non tetigit, nullum quod tetigit non ornavit.[ ] sive risus essent movendi, sive lacrymae, affectuum potens at lenis dominator: ingenio sublimis, vividus, versatilis, oratione grandis, nitidus, venustus: hoc monumento memoriam coluit sodalium amor, amicorum fides, lectorum veneratio. natus in hiberniâ forniae longfordiensis, in loco cui nomen pallas, nov. xxix. mdccxxxi[ ]; eblanae literis institutus; obiit londini, april iv, mdcclxxiv.' sir william forbes writes to me thus:-- 'i enclose the _round robin_. this _jeu d'esprit_ took its rise one day at dinner at our friend sir joshua reynolds's.[ ] all the company present, except myself, were friends and acquaintance of dr. goldsmith[ ]. the epitaph, written for him by dr. johnson, became the subject of conversation, and various emendations were suggested, which it was agreed should be submitted to the doctor's consideration. but the question was, who should have the courage to propose them to him? at last it was hinted, that there could be no way so good as that of a _round robin_, as the sailors call it, which they make use of when they enter into a conspiracy, so as not to let it be known who puts his name first or last to the paper. this proposition was instantly assented to; and dr. barnard, dean of derry, now bishop of killaloe[ ], drew up an address to dr. johnson on the occasion, replete with wit and humour, but which it was feared the doctor might think treated the subject with too much levity. mr. burke then proposed the address as it stands in the paper in writing, to which i had the honour to officiate as clerk. 'sir joshua agreed to carry it to dr. johnson, who received it with much good humour[ ], and desired sir joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of it; but _he would never consent to disgrace the walls of westminster abbey_ with an english inscription. 'i consider this _round robin_ as a species of literary curiosity worth preserving, as it marks, in a certain degree, dr. johnson's character.' my readers are presented with a faithful transcript of a paper, which i doubt not of their being desirous to see. sir william forbes's observation is very just. the anecdote now related proves, in the strongest manner, the reverence and awe with which johnson was regarded, by some of the most eminent men of his time, in various departments, and even by such of them as lived most with him; while it also confirms what i have again and again inculcated, that he was by no means of that ferocious and irascible character which has been ignorantly imagined. this hasty composition is also to be remarked as one of a thousand instances which evince the extraordinary promptitude of mr. burke; who while he is equal to the greatest things, can adorn the least; can, with equal facility, embrace the vast and complicated speculations of politicks, or the ingenious topicks of literary investigation.[ ] 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'madam, 'you must not think me uncivil in omitting to answer the letter with which you favoured me some time ago. i imagined it to have been written without mr. boswell's knowledge, and therefore supposed the answer to require, what i could not find, a private conveyance. 'the difference with lord auchinleck is now over; and since young alexander[ ] has appeared, i hope no more difficulties will arise among you; for i sincerely wish you all happy. do not teach the young ones to dislike me, as you dislike me yourself; but let me at least have veronica's kindness, because she is my acquaintance. 'you will now have mr. boswell home; it is well that you have him; he has led a wild life. i have taken him to lichfield, and he has followed mr. thrale to bath. pray take care of him, and tame him. the only thing in which i have the honour to agree with you is, in loving him; and while we are so much of a mind in a matter of so much importance, our other quarrels will, i hope, produce no great bitterness. i am, madam, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, june , . 'you have formerly complained that my letters were too long. there is no danger of that complaint being made at present; for i find it difficult for me to write to you at all. [here an account of having been afflicted with a return of melancholy or bad spirits.] 'the boxes of books[ ] which you sent to me are arrived; but i have not yet examined the contents. * * * * * 'i send you mr. maclaurin's paper for the negro, who claims his freedom in the court of session.[ ]' 'dr. johnson to mr. boswell. 'dear sir, 'these black fits, of which you complain, perhaps hurt your memory as well as your imagination. when did i complain that your letters were too long[ ]? your last letter, after a very long delay, brought very bad news. [here a series of reflections upon melancholy, and--what i could not help thinking strangely unreasonable in him who had suffered so much from it himself,--a good deal of severity and reproof, as if it were owing to my own fault, or that i was, perhaps, affecting it from a desire of distinction.] 'read cheyne's _english malady_;[ ] but do not let him teach you a foolish notion that melancholy is a proof of acuteness. 'to hear that you have not opened your boxes of books is very offensive. the examination and arrangement of so many volumes might have afforded you an amusement very seasonable at present, and useful for the whole of life. i am, i confess, very angry that you manage yourself so ill.[ ] 'i do not now say any more, than that i am, with great kindness, and sincerity, dear sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'it was last year[ ] determined by lord mansfield, in the court of king's bench, that a negro cannot be taken out of the kingdom without his own consent.' 'dr. johnson to mr. boswell. 'dear sir, 'i make haste to write again, lest my last letter should give you too much pain. if you are really oppressed with overpowering and involuntary melancholy, you are to be pitied rather than reproached. * * * * * 'now, my dear bozzy, let us have done with quarrels and with censure. let me know whether i have not sent you a pretty library. there are, perhaps, many books among them which you never need read through; but there are none which it is not proper for you to know, and sometimes to consult. of these books, of which the use is only occasional, it is often sufficient to know the contents, that, when any question arises, you may know where to look for information. 'since i wrote, i have looked over mr. maclaurin's plea, and think it excellent. how is the suit carried on? if by subscription, i commission you to contribute, in my name, what is proper. let nothing be wanting in such a case. dr. drummond[ ], i see, is superseded. his father would have grieved; but he lived to obtain the pleasure of his son's election, and died before that pleasure was abated. 'langton's lady has brought him a girl, and both are well; i dined with him the other day. 'it vexes me to tell you, that on the evening of the th of may i was seized by the gout, and am not quite well. the pain has not been violent, but the weakness and tenderness were very troublesome, and what is said to be very uncommon, it has not alleviated my other disorders. make use of youth and health while you have them; make my compliments to mrs. boswell. i am, my dear sir, 'your most affectionate 'sam. johnson.' 'july [ ], .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, july , . 'my dear sir, 'your letter of the second of this month was rather a harsh medicine; but i was delighted with that spontaneous tenderness, which, a few days afterwards, sent forth such balsam as your next brought me. i found myself for some time so ill that all i could do was to preserve a decent appearance, while all within was weakness and distress. like a reduced garrison that has some spirit left, i hung out flags, and planted all the force i could muster, upon the walls. i am now much better, and i sincerely thank you for your kind attention and friendly counsel. * * * * * 'count manucci[ ] came here last week from travelling in ireland. i have shewn him what civilities i could on his own account, on yours, and on that of mr. and mrs. thrale. he has had a fall from his horse, and been much hurt. i regret this unlucky accident, for he seems to be a very amiable man.' as the evidence of what i have mentioned at the beginning of this year, i select from his private register the following passage: 'july , . o god, who hast ordained that whatever is to be desired should be sought by labour, and who, by thy blessing, bringest honest labour to good effect, look with mercy upon my studies and endeavours. grant me, o lord, to design only what is lawful and right; and afford me calmness of mind, and steadiness of purpose, that i may so do thy will in this short life, as to obtain happiness in the world to come, for the sake of jesus christ our lord. amen.[ ] it appears from a note subjoined, that this was composed when he 'purposed to apply vigorously to study, particularly of the greek and italian tongues.' such a purpose, so expressed, at the age of sixty-seven, is admirable and encouraging; and it must impress all the thinking part of my readers with a consolatory confidence in habitual devotion, when they see a man of such enlarged intellectual powers as johnson, thus in the genuine earnestness of secrecy, imploring the aid of that supreme being, 'from whom cometh down every good and every perfect gift[ ].' 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'sir, 'a young man, whose name is paterson, offers himself this evening to the academy. he is the son of a man[ ] for whom i have long had a kindness, and who is now abroad in distress. i shall be glad that you will be pleased to shew him any little countenance, or pay him any small distinction. how much it is in your power to favour or to forward a young man i do not know; nor do i know how much this candidate deserves favour by his personal merit, or what hopes his proficiency may now give of future eminence. i recommend him as the son of my friend. your character and station enable you to give a young man great encouragement by very easy means. you have heard of a man who asked no other favour of sir robert walpole, than that he would bow to him at his levee. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'aug. , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, august , . [after giving him an account of my having examined the chests of books which he had sent to me, and which contained what may be truely called a numerous and miscellaneous _stall library_, thrown together at random:--] 'lord hailes was against the decree in the case of my client, the minister;[ ] not that he justified the minister, but because the parishioner both provoked and retorted. i sent his lordship your able argument upon the case for his perusal. his observation upon it in a letter to me was, "dr. johnson's _suasorium_ is pleasantly[ ] and artfully composed. i suspect, however, that he has not convinced himself; for, i believe that he is better read in ecclesiastical history, than to imagine that a bishop or a presbyter has a right to begin censure or discipline _è cathedrá[ ]_." * * * * * 'for the honour of count manucci, as well as to observe that exactness of truth which you have taught me, i must correct what i said in a former letter. he did not fall from his horse, which might have been an imputation on his skill as an officer of cavalry; his horse fell with him. 'i have, since i saw you, read every word of granger's _biographical history_. it has entertained me exceedingly, and i do not think him the _whig_ that you supposed.[ ] horace walpole's being his patron[ ] is, indeed, no good sign of his political principles. but he denied to lord mountstuart that he was a whig, and said he had been accused by both parties of partiality. it seems he was like pope, "while tories call me whig, and whigs a tory[ ]." 'i wish you would look more into his book; and as lord mountstuart wishes much to find a proper person to continue the work upon granger's plan, and has desired i would mention it to you; if such a man occurs, please to let me know. his lordship will give him generous encouragement.' 'to mr. robert levett. 'dear sir, 'having spent about six weeks at this place, we have at length resolved upon returning. i expect to see you all in fleet-street on the th of this month. 'i did not go into the sea till last friday[ ], but think to go most of this week, though i know not that it does me any good. my nights are very restless and tiresome, but i am otherwise well. 'i have written word of my coming to mrs. williams. remember me kindly to francis and betsy. i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'brighthelmstone[ ], oct. , ' i again wrote to dr. johnson on the st of october, informing him, that my father had, in the most liberal manner, paid a large debt for me[ ], and that i had now the happiness of being upon very good terms with him; to which he returned the following answer. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i had great pleasure in hearing that you are at last on good terms with your father[ ]. cultivate his kindness by all honest and manly means. life is but short; no time can be afforded but for the indulgence of real sorrow, or contests upon questions seriously momentous. let us not throw away any of our days upon useless resentment, or contend who shall hold out longest in stubborn malignity. it is best not to be angry; and best, in the next place, to be quickly reconciled. may you and your father pass the remainder of your time in reciprocal benevolence! * * * * * 'do you ever hear from mr. langton? i visit him sometimes, but he does not talk. i do not like his scheme of life[ ]; but as i am not permitted to understand it, i cannot set any thing right that is wrong. his children are sweet babies. 'i hope my irreconcileable enemy, mrs. boswell, is well. desire her not to transmit her malevolence to the young people. let me have alexander, and veronica, and euphemia, for my friends. 'mrs. williams, whom you may reckon as one of your well-wishers, is in a feeble and languishing state, with little hope of growing better. she went for some part of the autumn into the country, but is little benefited; and dr. lawrence confesses that his art is at an end. death is, however, at a distance; and what more than that can we say of ourselves? i am sorry for her pain, and more sorry for her decay. mr. levett is sound, wind and limb. 'i was some weeks this autumn at brighthelmstone. the place was very dull, and i was not well; the expedition to the hebrides was the most pleasant journey that i ever made[ ]. such an effort annually would give the world a little diversification. 'every year, however, we cannot wander, and must therefore endeavour to spend our time at home as well as we can. i believe it is best to throw life into a method, that every hour may bring its employment, and every employment have its hour. xenophon observes, in his _treatise of oeconomy_[ ], that if every thing be kept in a certain place, when any thing is worn out or consumed, the vacuity which it leaves will shew what is wanting; so if every part of time has its duty, the hour will call into remembrance its proper engagement. 'i have not practised all this prudence myself, but i have suffered much for want of it; and i would have you, by timely recollection and steady resolution, escape from those evils which have lain heavy upon me[ ]. i am, my dearest boswell, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, nov. , .' on the th of november i informed him that mr. strahan had sent me _twelve_ copies of the _journey to the western islands_, handsomely bound, instead of the _twenty_ copies which were stipulated[ ]; but which, i supposed, were to be only in sheets; requested to know how they should be distributed: and mentioned that i had another son born to me, who was named david, and was a sickly infant. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have been for some time ill of a cold, which, perhaps, i made an excuse to myself for not writing, when in reality i knew not what to say. 'the books you must at last distribute as you think best, in my name, or your own, as you are inclined, or as you judge most proper. every body cannot be obliged; but i wish that nobody may be offended. do the best you can. 'i congratulate you on the increase of your family, and hope that little david is by this time well, and his mamma perfectly recovered. i am much pleased to hear of the re-establishment of kindness between you and your father. cultivate his paternal tenderness as much as you can. to live at variance at all is uncomfortable; and variance with a father is still more uncomfortable. besides that, in the whole dispute you have the wrong side; at least you gave the first provocations, and some of them very offensive[ ]. let it now be all over. as you have no reason to think that your new mother has shewn you any foul play, treat her with respect, and with some degree of confidence; this will secure your father. when once a discordant family has felt the pleasure of peace, they will not willingly lose it. if mrs. boswell would but be friends with me, we might now shut the temple of janus. 'what came of dr. memis's cause[ ]? is the question about the negro determined[ ]? has sir allan any reasonable hopes[ ]? what is become of poor macquarry[ ]? let me know the event of all these litigations. i wish particularly well to the negro and sir allan. 'mrs. williams has been much out of order; and though she is something better, is likely, in her physician's opinion, to endure her malady for life, though she may, perhaps, die of some other. mrs. thrale is big, and fancies that she carries a boy; if it were very reasonable to wish much about it, i should wish her not to be disappointed. the desire of male heirs is not appendant only to feudal tenures. a son is almost necessary to the continuance of thrale's fortune; for what can misses do with a brewhouse? lands are fitter for daughters than trades[ ]. 'baretti went away from thrale's in some whimsical fit of disgust, or ill-nature, without taking any leave[ ]. it is well if he finds in any other place as good an habitation, and as many conveniencies. he has got five-and-twenty guineas by translating sir joshua's _discourses_ into italian, and mr. thrale gave him an hundred in the spring[ ]; so that he is yet in no difficulties. 'colman has bought foote's patent, and is to allow foote for life sixteen hundred pounds a year, as reynolds told me, and to allow him to play so often on such terms that he may gain four hundred pounds more[ ]. what colman can get by this bargain, but trouble and hazard, i do not see. i am, dear sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'dec. , .' the reverend dr. hugh blair, who had long been admired as a preacher at edinburgh, thought now of diffusing his excellent sermons more extensively, and encreasing his reputation, by publishing a collection of them. he transmitted the manuscript to mr. strahan, the printer, who after keeping it for some time, wrote a letter to him, discouraging the publication[ ]. such at first was the unpropitious state of one of the most successful theological books that has ever appeared. mr. strahan, however, had sent one of the sermons to dr. johnson for his opinion; and after his unfavourable letter to dr. blair had been sent off, he received from johnson on christmas-eve, a note in which was the following paragraph: 'i have read over dr. blair's first sermon with more than approbation; to say it is good, is to say too little[ ].' i believe mr. strahan had very soon after this time a conversation with dr. johnson concerning them; and then he very candidly wrote again to dr. blair, enclosing johnson's note, and agreeing to purchase the volume, for which he and mr. cadell gave one hundred pounds. the sale was so rapid and extensive, and the approbation of the publick so high, that to their honour be it recorded, the proprietors made dr. blair a present first of one sum, and afterwards of another, of fifty pounds, thus voluntarily doubling the stipulated price; and when he prepared another volume, they gave him at once three hundred pounds, being in all five hundred pounds, by an agreement to which i am a subscribing witness; and now for a third octavo volume he has received no less than six hundred pounds. : Ã�tat. .--in , it appears from his _prayers and meditations_, that johnson suffered much from a state of mind 'unsettled and perplexed[ ],' and from that constitutional gloom, which, together with his extreme humility and anxiety with regard to his religious state, made him contemplate himself through too dark and unfavourable a medium. it may be said of him, that he 'saw god in clouds[ ].' certain we may be of his injustice to himself in the following lamentable paragraph, which it is painful to think came from the contrite heart of this great man, to whose labours the world is so much indebted: 'when i survey my past life, i discover nothing but a barren waste of time, with some disorders of body, and disturbances of the mind, very near to madness,[ ] which i hope he that made me will suffer to extenuate many faults, and excuse many deficiencies[ ].' but we find his devotions in this year eminently fervent; and we are comforted by observing intervals of quiet, composure, and gladness. on easter-day we find the following emphatick prayer: 'almighty and most merciful father, who seest all our miseries, and knowest all our necessities, look down upon me, and pity me. defend me from the violent incursion [incursions] of evil thoughts, and enable me to form and keep such resolutions as may conduce to the discharge of the duties which thy providence shall appoint me; and so help me, by thy holy spirit, that my heart may surely there be fixed, where true joys are to be found, and that i may serve thee with pure affection and a cheerful mind. have mercy upon me, o god, have mercy upon me; years and infirmities oppress me, terrour and anxiety beset me. have mercy upon me, my creator and my judge. [in all dangers protect me.] in all perplexities relieve and free me; and so help me by thy holy spirit, that i may now so commemorate the death of thy son our saviour jesus christ, as that when this short and painful life shall have an end, i may, for his sake, be received to everlasting happiness. amen[ ].' while he was at church, the agreeable impressions upon his mind are thus commemorated: 'i was for some time distressed, but at last obtained, i hope from the god of peace, more quiet than i have enjoyed for a long time. i had made no resolution, but as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my courage increased; and i wrote with my pencil in my common prayer book, "vita ordinanda. biblia legenda. theologiae opera danda. serviendum et lætandum[ ]."' mr. steevens whose generosity is well known, joined dr. johnson in kind assistance to a female relation of dr. goldsmith, and desired that on her return to ireland she would procure authentick particulars of the life of her celebrated relation[ ]. concerning her there is the following letter:-- 'to george steevens, esq. 'dear sir, 'you will be glad to hear that from mrs. goldsmith, whom we lamented as drowned, i have received a letter full of gratitude to us all, with promise to make the enquiries which we recommended to her. 'i would have had the honour of conveying this intelligence to miss caulfield, but that her letter is not at hand, and i know not the direction. you will tell the good news. 'i am, sir, 'your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'february , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'my dear sir, 'my state of epistolary accounts with you at present is extraordinary. the balance, as to number, is on your side. i am indebted to you for two letters; one dated the th of november, upon which very day i wrote to you, so that our letters were exactly exchanged, and one dated the st of december last. 'my heart was warmed with gratitude by the truely kind contents of both of them; and it is amazing and vexing that i have allowed so much time to elapse without writing to you. but delay is inherent in me, by nature or by bad habit. i waited till i should have an opportunity of paying you my compliments on a new year. i have procrastinated till the year is no longer new. * * * * * 'dr. memis's cause was determined against him, with £ costs. the lord president, and two other of the judges, dissented from the majority, upon this ground;--that although there may have been no intention to injure him by calling him _doctor of medicine_, instead of _physician_, yet, as he remonstrated against the designation before the charter was printed off, and represented that it was disagreeable, and even hurtful to him, it was ill-natured to refuse to alter it, and let him have the designation to which he was certainly entitled. my own opinion is, that our court has judged wrong. the defendants were _in malâ fide_, to persist in naming him in a way that he disliked. you remember poor goldsmith, when he grew important, and wished to appear _doctor major_ [ ], could not bear your calling him _goldy_[ ]. would it not have been wrong to have named him so in your _preface to shakspeare_, or in any serious permanent writing of any sort? the difficulty is, whether an action should be allowed on such petty wrongs. _de minimis non curat lex_. 'the negro cause is not yet decided. a memorial is preparing on the side of slavery. i shall send you a copy as soon as it is printed. maclaurin is made happy by your approbation of his memorial for the black. 'macquarry was here in the winter, and we passed an evening together. the sale of his estate cannot be prevented. 'sir allan maclean's suit against the duke of argyle, for recovering the ancient inheritance of his family, is now fairly before all our judges. i spoke for him yesterday, and maclaurin to-day; crosbie spoke to-day against him. three more counsel are to be heard, and next week the cause will be determined. i send you the _informations_, or _cases_, on each side, which i hope you will read. you said to me when we were under sir allan's hospitable roof, "i will help him with my pen." you said it with a generous glow; and though his grace of argyle did afterwards mount you upon an excellent horse, upon which "you looked like a bishop[ ]," you must not swerve from your purpose at inchkenneth. i wish you may understand the points at issue, amidst our scotch law principles and phrases. [here followed a full state of the case, in which i endeavoured to make it as clear as i could to an englishman, who had no knowledge of the formularies and technical language of the law of scotland.] 'i shall inform you how the cause is decided here. but as it may be brought under the review of our judges, and is certainly to be carried by appeal to the house of lords, the assistance of such a mind as yours will be of consequence. your paper on _vicious intromission_[ ] is a noble proof of what you can do even in scotch law. * * * * * 'i have not yet distributed all your books. lord hailes and lord monboddo have each received one, and return you thanks. monboddo dined with me lately, and having drank tea, we were a good while by ourselves, and as i knew that he had read the _journey_ superficially, as he did not talk of it as i wished, i brought it to him, and read aloud several passages; and then he talked so, that i told him he was to have a copy _from the authour_. he begged _that_ might be marked on it. * * * * * 'i ever am, my dear sir, 'your most faithful, 'and affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'sir alexander dick to dr. samuel johnson. 'prestonfield, feb. , . 'sir, 'i had yesterday the honour of receiving your book of your _journey to the western islands of scotland_, which you was so good as to send me, by the hands of our mutual friend[ ], mr. boswell, of auchinleck; for which i return you my most hearty thanks; and after carefully reading it over again, shall deposit in my little collection of choice books, next our worthy friend's _journey to corsica_. as there are many things to admire in both performances, i have often wished that no travels or journeys should be published but those undertaken by persons of integrity and capacity to judge well, and describe faithfully, and in good language, the situation, condition, and manners of the countries past through. indeed our country of scotland, in spite of the union of the crowns, is still in most places so devoid of clothing, or cover from hedges and plantations, that it was well you gave your readers a sound _monitoire_ with respect to that circumstance. the truths you have told, and the purity of the language in which they are expressed, as your _journey_ is universally read, may, and already appear to have a very good effect. for a man of my acquaintance, who has the largest nursery for trees and hedges in this country, tells me, that of late the demand upon him for these articles is doubled, and sometimes tripled. i have, therefore, listed dr. samuel johnson in some of my memorandums of the principal planters and favourers of the enclosures, under a name which i took the liberty to invent from the greek, _papadendrion_[ ]. lord auchinleck and some few more are of the list. i am told that one gentleman in the shire of aberdeen, _viz_. sir archibald grant, has planted above fifty millions of trees on a piece of very wild ground at monimusk: i must enquire if he has fenced them well, before he enters my list; for, that is the soul of enclosing. i began myself to plant a little, our ground being too valuable for much, and that is now fifty years ago; and the trees, now in my seventy-fourth year, i look up to with reverence, and shew them to my eldest son now in his fifteenth year, and they are full the height of my country-house here, where i had the pleasure of receiving you, and hope again to have that satisfaction with our mutual friend, mr. boswell. i shall always continue, with the truest esteem, dear doctor, 'your much obliged, 'and obedient humble servant, 'alexander dick[ ].' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'it is so long since i heard any thing from you[ ], that i am not easy about it; write something to me next post. when you sent your last letter, every thing seemed to be mending; i hope nothing has lately grown worse. i suppose young alexander continues to thrive, and veronica is now very pretty company. i do not suppose the lady is yet reconciled to me, yet let her know that i love her very well, and value her very much. 'dr. blair is printing some sermons. if they are all like the first, which i have read, they are _sermones aurei, ac auro magis aurei_. it is excellently written both as to doctrine and language. mr. watson's book[ ] seems to be much esteemed. * * * * * 'poor beauclerk still continues very ill[ ]. langton lives on as he used to do[ ]. his children are very pretty, and, i think, his lady loses her scotch. paoli i never see. 'i have been so distressed by difficulty of breathing, that i lost, as was computed, six-and-thirty ounces of blood in a few days[ ]. i am better, but not well. 'i wish you would be vigilant and get me graham's _telemachus_[ ] that was printed at glasgow, a very little book; and _johnstoni poemata_[ ], another little book, printed at middleburgh. 'mrs. williams sends her compliments, and promises that when you come hither, she will accommodate you as well as ever she can in the old room[ ]. she wishes to know whether you sent her book[ ] to sir alexander gordon[ ]. 'my dear boswell, do not neglect to write to me; for your kindness is one of the pleasures of my life, which i should be sorry to lose. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'february , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'dear sir, 'your letter dated the th instant, i had the pleasure to receive last post. although my late long neglect, or rather delay, was truely culpable, i am tempted not to regret it, since it has produced me so valuable a proof of your regard. i did, indeed, during that inexcusable silence, sometimes divert the reproaches of my own mind, by fancying that i should hear again from you, inquiring with some anxiety about me, because, for aught you knew, i might have been ill. 'you are pleased to shew me, that my kindness is of some consequence to you. my heart is elated at the thought. be assured, my dear sir, that my affection and reverence for you are exalted and steady. i do not believe that a more perfect attachment ever existed in the history of mankind. and it is a noble attachment; for the attractions are genius, learning, and piety. 'your difficulty of breathing alarms me, and brings into my imagination an event, which although in the natural course of things, i must expect at some period, i cannot view with composure. * * * * * 'my wife is much honoured by what you say of her. she begs you may accept of her best compliments. she is to send you some marmalade of oranges of her own making. * * * * * 'i ever am, my dear sir, 'your most obliged 'and faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have been much pleased with your late letter, and am glad that my old enemy mrs. boswell, begins to feel some remorse. as to miss veronica's scotch, i think it cannot be helped. an english maid you might easily have; but she would still imitate the greater number, as they would be likewise those whom she must most respect. her dialect will not be gross. her mamma has not much scotch, and you have yourself very little. i hope she knows my name, and does not call me _johnston_[ ]. 'the immediate cause of my writing is this:--one shaw[ ], who seems a modest and a decent man, has written an _erse grammar_, which a very learned highlander, macbean[ ], has, at my request, examined and approved. 'the book is very little, but mr. shaw has been persuaded by his friends to set it at half a guinea, though i advised only a crown, and thought myself liberal. you, whom the authour considers as a great encourager of ingenious men, will receive a parcel of his proposals and receipts. i have undertaken to give you notice of them, and to solicit your countenance. you must ask no poor man, because the price is really too high. yet such a work deserves patronage. 'it is proposed to augment our club from twenty to thirty, of which i am glad; for as we have several in it whom i do not much like to consort with[ ], i am for reducing it to a mere miscellaneous collection of conspicuous men, without any determinate character. * * * * * 'i am, dear sir, 'most affectionately your's, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' 'my respects to madam, to veronica, to alexander, to euphemia, to david.' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, april , . [after informing him of the death of my little son david, and that i could not come to london this spring:--] 'i think it hard that i should be a whole year without seeing you. may i presume to petition for a meeting with you in the autumn? you have, i believe, seen all the cathedrals in england, except that of carlisle. if you are to be with dr. taylor, at ashbourne, it would not be a great journey to come thither. we may pass a few most agreeable days there by ourselves, and i will accompany you a good part of the way to the southward again. pray think of this. 'you forget that mr. shaw's _erse grammar_ was put into your hands by myself last year. lord eglintoune put it into mine. i am glad that mr. macbean approves of it. i have received mr. shaw's proposals for its publication, which i can perceive are written _by the hand of a_ master. * * * * * 'pray get for me all the editions of _walton's lives_: i have a notion that the republication of them with notes will fall upon me, between dr. home and lord hailes[ ].' mr. shaw's proposals[dagger] for _an analysis of the scotch celtick language_, were thus illuminated by the pen of johnson: 'though the erse dialect of the celtick language has, from the earliest times, been spoken in britain, and still subsists in the northern parts and adjacent islands, yet, by the negligence of a people rather warlike than lettered, it has hitherto been left to the caprice and judgement of every speaker, and has floated in the living voice, without the steadiness of analogy, or direction of rules. an erse grammar is an addition to the stores of literature; and its authour hopes for the indulgence always shewn to those that attempt to do what was never done before. if his work shall be found defective, it is at least all his own: he is not like other grammarians, a compiler or transcriber; what he delivers, he has learned by attentive observation among his countrymen, who perhaps will be themselves surprized to see that speech reduced to principles, which they have used only by imitation. 'the use of this book will, however, not be confined to the mountains and islands; it will afford a pleasing and important subject of speculation, to those whose studies lead them to trace the affinity of languages, and the migrations of the ancient races, of mankind.' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'glasgow, april , . 'my dear sir, 'our worthy friend thrale's death having appeared in the newspapers, and been afterwards contradicted, i have been placed in a state of very uneasy uncertainty, from which i hoped to be relieved by you: but my hopes have as yet been vain. how could you omit to write to me on such an occasion? i shall wait with anxiety. 'i am going to auchinleck to stay a fortnight with my father. it is better not to be there very long at one time. but frequent renewals of attention are agreeable to him. 'pray tell me about this edition of "_the english poets_, with a preface, biographical and critical, to each authour, by samuel johnson, ll.d." which i see advertised. i am delighted with the prospect of it. indeed i am happy to feel that i am capable of being so much delighted with literature.[ ] but is not the charm of this publication chiefly owing to the _magnum nomen_ in the front of it? 'what do you say of lord chesterfield's _memoirs and last letters_?[ ] 'my wife has made marmalade of oranges for you. i left her and my daughters and alexander all well yesterday. i have taught veronica to speak of you thus;--dr. john_son_, not jon_ston_. 'i remain, my dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'and obliged humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'the story of mr. thrale's death, as he had neither been sick nor in any other danger, made so little impression upon me, that i never thought about obviating its effects on any body else. it is supposed to have been produced by the english custom of making april fools, that is, of sending one another on some foolish errand on the first of april. 'tell mrs. boswell that i shall taste her marmalade cautiously at first. _timeo danaos et dona ferentes_.[ ] beware, says the italian proverb, of a reconciled enemy. but when i find it does me no harm, i shall then receive it and be thankful for it, as a pledge of firm, and, i hope, of unalterable kindness. she is, after all, a dear, dear lady. 'please to return dr. blair thanks for his sermons. the scotch write english wonderfully well. 'your frequent visits to auchinleck, and your short stay there, are very laudable and very judicious. your present concord with your father gives me great pleasure; it was all that you seemed to want. 'my health is very bad, and my nights are very unquiet.[ ] what can i do to mend them? i have for this summer nothing better in prospect than a journey into staffordshire and derbyshire, perhaps with oxford and birmingham in my way. 'make my compliments to miss veronica; i must leave it to _her_ philosophy to comfort you for the loss of little david. you must remember, that to keep three out of four is more than your share. mrs. thrale has but four out of eleven.[ ] 'i am engaged to write little lives, and little prefaces, to a little edition of _the english poets_. i think i have persuaded the book-sellers to insert something of thomson; and if you could give me some information about him, for the life which we have is very scanty, i should be glad. i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' to those who delight in tracing the progress of works of literature, it will be an entertainment to compare the limited design with the ample execution of that admirable performance, _the lives of the english poets_, which is the richest, most beautiful and indeed most perfect production of johnson's pen. his notion of it at this time appears in the preceding letter. he has a memorandum in this year, ' may[ ], easter eve, i treated with booksellers on a bargain, but the time was not long[ ].' the bargain was concerning that undertaking; but his tender conscience seems alarmed lest it should have intruded too much on his devout preparation for the solemnity of the ensuing day. but, indeed, very little time was necessary for johnson's concluding a treaty with the booksellers; as he had, i believe, less attention to profit from his labours than any man to whom literature has been a profession.[ ] i shall here insert from a letter to me from my late worthy friend mr. edward dilly, though of a later date, an account of this plan so happily conceived; since it was the occasion of procuring for us an elegant collection of the best biography and criticism of which our language can boast. 'to james boswell, esq. 'southill, sept. , . 'dear sir, 'you will find by this letter, that i am still in the same calm retreat, from the noise and bustle of london, as when i wrote to you last. i am happy to find you had such an agreeable meeting with your old friend dr. johnson; i have no doubt your stock is much increased by the interview; few men, nay i may say, scarcely any man, has got that fund of knowledge and entertainment as dr. johnson in conversation. when he opens freely, every one is attentive to what he says, and cannot fail of improvement as well as pleasure. 'the edition of _the poets_, now printing, will do honour to the english press; and a concise account of the life of each authour, by dr. johnson, will be a very valuable addition, and stamp the reputation of this edition superiour to any thing that is gone before. the first cause that gave rise to this undertaking, i believe, was owing to the little trifling edition of _the poets_, printing by the martins, at edinburgh, and to be sold by bell, in london. upon examining the volumes which were printed, the type was found so extremely small, that many persons could not read them; not only this inconvenience attended it, but the inaccuracy of the press was very conspicuous. these reasons, as well as the idea of an invasion of what we call our literary property[ ], induced the london booksellers to print an elegant and accurate edition of all the english poets of reputation, from chaucer to the present time. 'accordingly a select number of the most respectable booksellers met on the occasion; and, on consulting together, agreed, that all the proprietors of copy-right in the various poets should be summoned together; and when their opinions were given, to proceed immediately on the business. accordingly a meeting was held, consisting of about forty of the most respectable booksellers of london, when it was agreed that an elegant and uniform edition of _the english poets_ should be immediately printed, with a concise account of the life of each authour, by dr. samuel johnson; and that three persons should be deputed to wait upon dr. johnson, to solicit him to undertake the lives, _viz_., t. davies, strahan, and cadell. the doctor very politely undertook it, and seemed exceedingly pleased with the proposal. as to the terms, it was left entirely to the doctor to name his own: he mentioned two hundred guineas[ ]: it was immediately agreed to; and a farther compliment, i believe, will be made him.[ ] a committee was likewise appointed to engage the best engravers, _viz_., bartolozzi, sherwin, hall, etc. likewise another committee for giving directions about the paper, printing, etc., so that the whole will be conducted with spirit, and in the best manner, with respect to authourship, editorship, engravings, etc., etc. my brother will give you a list of the poets we mean to give, many of which are within the time of the act of queen anne[ ], which martin and bell cannot give, as they have no property in them; the proprietors are almost all the booksellers in london, of consequence. i am, dear sir, 'ever your's, 'edward dilly.' i shall afterwards have occasion to consider the extensive and varied range which johnson took, when he was once led upon ground which he trod with a peculiar delight, having long been intimately acquainted with all the circumstances of it that could interest and please. 'dr. johnson to charles o'connor, esq.[ ] 'sir, 'having had the pleasure of conversing with dr. campbell about your character and your literary undertaking, i am resolved to gratify myself by renewing a correspondence which began and ended a great while ago, and ended, i am afraid, by my fault; a fault which, if you have not forgotten it, you must now forgive. 'if i have ever disappointed you, give me leave to tell you, that you have likewise disappointed me. i expected great discoveries in irish antiquity, and large publications in the irish language; but the world still remains at it was, doubtful and ignorant. what the irish language is in itself, and to what languages it has affinity, are very interesting questions, which every man wishes to see resolved that has any philological or historical curiosity. dr. leland begins his history too late: the ages which deserve an exact enquiry are those times (for[ ] such there were) when ireland was the school of the west, the quiet habitation of sanctity and literature. if you could give a history, though imperfect, of the irish nation, from its conversion to christianity to the invasion from england, you would amplify knowledge with new views and new objects. set about it therefore, if you can: do what you can easily do without anxious exactness. lay the foundation, and leave the superstructure to posterity. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' early in this year came out, in two volumes quarto, the posthumous works of the learned dr. zachary pearce, bishop of rochester; being _a commentary, with notes, on the four evangelists and the acts of the apostles_, with other theological pieces. johnson had now an opportunity of making a grateful return to that excellent prelate, who, we have seen[ ], was the only person who gave him any assistance in the compilation of his _dictionary_. the bishop had left some account of his life and character, written by himself. to this johnson made some valuable additions[ ][dagger], and also furnished to the editor, the reverend mr. derby, a dedication[dagger], which i shall here insert, both because it will appear at this time with peculiar propriety; and because it will tend to propagate and increase that 'fervour of _loyalty_[ ],' which in me, who boast of the name of tory, is not only a principle, but a passion. 'to the king. 'sir, 'i presume to lay before your majesty the last labours of a learned bishop, who died in the toils and duties of his calling[ ]. he is now beyond the reach of all earthly honours and rewards; and only the hope of inciting others to imitate him, makes it now fit to be remembered, that he enjoyed in his life the favour of your majesty. 'the tumultuary life of princes seldom permits them to survey the wide extent of national interest, without losing sight of private merit; to exhibit qualities which may be imitated by the highest and the humblest of mankind; and to be at once amiable and great. 'such characters, if now and then they appear in history, are contemplated with admiration. may it be the ambition of all your subjects to make haste with their tribute of reverence: and as posterity may learn from your majesty how kings should live, may they learn, likewise, from your people, how they should be honoured. i am, 'may it please your majesty, with the most profound respect, your majesty's most dutiful and devoted subject and servant.' in the summer he wrote a prologue[*] which was spoken before _a word to the wise_, a comedy by mr. hugh kelly[ ], which had been brought upon the stage in ; but he being a writer for ministry, in one of the news-papers, it fell a sacrifice to popular fury, and in the playhouse phrase, was _damned_. by the generosity of mr. harris, the proprietor of covent garden theatre, it was now exhibited for one night, for the benefit of the authour's widow and children. to conciliate the favour of the audience was the intention of johnson's prologue, which, as it is not long, i shall here insert, as a proof that his poetical talents were in no degree impaired. 'this night presents a play, which publick rage, or right or wrong, once hooted from the stage: from zeal or malice, now no more we dread, for english vengeance _wars not with the dead_. a generous foe regards with pitying eye the man whom fate has laid where all must lie. to wit, reviving from its authour's dust, be kind, ye judges, or at least be just: let no renewed hostilities invade th' oblivious grave's inviolable shade. let one great payment every claim appease, and him who cannot hurt, allow to please; to please by scenes, unconscious of offence, by harmless merriment, or useful sense. where aught of bright or fair the piece displays, approve it only;--'tis too late to praise. if want of skill or want of care appear, forbear to hiss;--the poet cannot hear. by all, like him, must praise and blame be found, at last, a fleeting gleam, or empty sound; yet then shall calm reflection bless the night, when liberal pity dignified delight; when pleasure fir'd her torch at virtue's flame, and mirth was bounty with an humbler name.'[ ] a circumstance which could not fail to be very pleasing to johnson occurred this year. the tragedy of _sir thomas overbury_, written by his early companion in london, richard savage[ ] was brought out with alterations at drury-lane theatre[ ]. the prologue to it was written by mr. richard brinsley sheridan; in which, after describing very pathetically the wretchedness of 'ill-fated savage, at whose birth was giv'n no parent but the muse, no friend but heav'n:' he introduced an elegant compliment to johnson on his _dictionary_, that wonderful performance which cannot be too often or too highly praised; of which mr. harris, in his _philological inquiries_[ ], justly and liberally observes: 'such is its merit, that our language does not possess a more copious, learned, and valuable work.' the concluding, lines of this prologue were these:-- 'so pleads the tale that gives to future times the son's misfortunes and the parent's crimes; there shall his fame (if own'd to-night) survive, fix'd by the hand that bids our language live[ ].' mr. sheridan here at once did honour to his taste and to his liberality of sentiment, by shewing that he was not prejudiced from the unlucky difference which had taken place between his worthy father and dr. johnson. i have already mentioned, that johnson was very desirous of reconciliation with old mr. sheridan.[ ] it will, therefore, not seem at all surprizing that he was zealous in acknowledging the brilliant merit of his son. while it had as yet been displayed only in the drama, johnson proposed him as a member of the literary club, observing, that 'he who has written the two best comedies of his age, is surely a considerable man[ ].' and he had, accordingly, the honour to be elected; for an honour it undoubtedly must be allowed to be, when it is considered of whom that society consists, and that a single black ball excludes a candidate. 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'july , .[ ] 'my dear sir, 'for the health of my wife and children i have taken the little country-house at which you visited my uncle, dr. boswell[ ], who, having lost his wife, is gone to live with his son. we took possession of our villa about a week ago; we have a garden of three quarters of an acre, well stocked with fruit-trees and flowers, and gooseberries and currants, and peas and beans, and cabbages, &c. &c., and my children are quite happy. i now write to you in a little study, from the window of which i see around me a verdant grove, and beyond it the lofty mountain called arthur's seat. 'your last letter, in which you desire me to send you some additional information concerning thomson, reached me very fortunately just as i was going to lanark, to put my wife's two nephews, the young campbells, to school there, under the care of mr. thomson, the master of it, whose wife is sister to the authour of _the seasons_. she is an old woman; but her memory is very good; and she will with pleasure give me for you every particular that you wish to know, and she can tell. pray then take the trouble to send me such questions as may lead to biographical materials. you say that the _life_ which we have of thomson is scanty. since i received your letter i have read his _life_, published under the name of cibber, but as you told me, really written by a mr. shiels[ ]; that written by dr. murdoch; one prefixed to an edition of the seasons, published at edinburgh, which is compounded of both, with the addition of an anecdote of quin's relieving thomson from prison[ ]; the abridgement of murdoch's account of him, in the _biographia britannica_, and another abridgement of it in the _biographical dictionary_, enriched with dr. joseph warton's critical panegyrick on the _seasons_ in his _essay on the genius and writings of pope_: from all these it appears to me that we have a pretty full account of this poet. however, you will, i doubt not, shew me many blanks, and i shall do what can be done to have them filled up. as thomson never returned to scotland, (which _you_ will think very wise,) his sister can speak from her own knowledge only as to the early part of his life. she has some letters from him, which may probably give light as to his more advanced progress, if she will let us see them, which i suppose she will[ ]. i believe george lewis scott[ ] and dr. armstrong[ ] are now his only surviving companions, while he lived in and about london; and they, i dare say, can tell more of him than is yet known. my own notion is, that thomson was a much coarser man than his friends are willing to acknowledge[ ]. his _seasons_ are indeed full of elegant and pious sentiments: but a rank soil, nay a dunghill, will produce beautiful flowers[ ]. 'your edition of _the english poets_[ ] will be very valuable, on account of the _prefaces_ and _lives_. but i have seen a specimen of an edition of _the poets_ at the apollo press, at edinburgh, which, for excellence in printing and engraving, highly deserves a liberal encouragement. 'most sincerely do i regret the bad health and bad rest with which you have been afflicted; and i hope you are better. i cannot believe that the prologue which you generously gave to mr. kelly's widow and children the other day, is the effusion of one in sickness and in disquietude: but external circumstances are never sure indications of the state of man. i send you a letter which i wrote to you two years ago at wilton[ ]; and did not send it at the time, for fear of being reproved as indulging too much tenderness; and one written to you at the tomb of melancthon[ ], which i kept back, lest i should appear at once too superstitious and too enthusiastick. i now imagine that perhaps they may please you. 'you do not take the least notice of my proposal for our meeting at carlisle[ ]. though i have meritoriously refrained from visiting london this year, i ask you if it would not be wrong that i should be two years without having the benefit of your conversation, when, if you come down as far as derbyshire, we may meet at the expence of a few days' journeying, and not many pounds. i wish you to see carlisle, which made me mention that place. but if you have not a desire to complete your tour of the english cathedrals, i will take a larger share of the road between this place and ashbourne. so tell me _where_ you will fix for our passing a few days by ourselves. now don't cry "foolish fellow," or "idle dog." chain your humour, and let your kindness play. 'you will rejoice to hear that miss macleod, of rasay[ ], is married to colonel mure campbell, an excellent man, with a pretty good estate of his own, and the prospect of having the earl of loudoun's fortune and honours. is not this a noble lot for our fair hebridean? how happy am i that she is to be in ayrshire. we shall have the laird of rasay, and old malcolm, and i know not how many gallant macleods, and bagpipes, &c. &c. at auchinleck. perhaps you may meet them all there. 'without doubt you have read what is called _the life_ of david hume[ ], written by himself, with the letter from dr. adam smith subjoined to it. is not this an age of daring effrontery? my friend mr. anderson, professor of natural philosophy at glasgow, at whose house you and i supped[ ], and to whose care mr. windham[ ], of norfolk, was entrusted at that university, paid me a visit lately; and after we had talked with indignation and contempt of the poisonous productions with which this age is infested, he said there was now an excellent opportunity for dr. johnson to step forth. i agreed with him that you might knock hume's and smith's heads together, and make vain and ostentatious infidelity exceedingly ridiculous. would it not be worth your while to crush such noxious weeds in the moral garden? 'you have said nothing to me of dr. dodd[ ]. i know not how you think on that subject; though the newspapers give us a saying of your's in favour of mercy to him. but i own i am very desirous that the royal prerogative of remission of punishment should be employed to exhibit an illustrious instance of the regard which god's vicegerent will ever shew to piety and virtue. if for ten righteous men the almighty would have spared sodom, shall not a thousand acts of goodness done by dr. dodd counterbalance one crime? such an instance would do more to encourage goodness, than his execution would do to deter from vice. i am not afraid of any bad consequence to society; for who will persevere for a long course of years in a distinguished discharge of religious duties, with a view to commit a forgery with impunity? 'pray make my best compliments acceptable to mr. and mrs. thrale, by assuring them of my hearty joy that the _master_[ ], as you call him, is alive. i hope i shall often taste his champagne--_soberly_. 'i have not heard from langton for a long time. i suppose he is as usual, "studious the busy moments to deceive[ ]." * * * * * 'i remain, my dear sir, 'your most affectionate, and faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' on the rd of june, i again wrote to dr. johnson, enclosing a ship-master's receipt for a jar of orange-marmalade, and a large packet of lord hailes's _annals of scotland_. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have just received your packet from mr. thrale's, but have not day-light enough to look much into it. i am glad that i have credit enough with lord hailes to be trusted with more copy[ ]. i hope to take more care of it than of the last. i return mrs. boswell my affectionate thanks for her present, which i value as a token of reconciliation. 'poor dodd was put to death yesterday, in opposition to the recommendation of the jury[ ]--the petition of the city of london[ ]--and a subsequent petition signed by three-and-twenty thousand hands. surely the voice of the publick, when it calls so loudly, and calls only for mercy, ought to be heard[ ]. 'the saying that was given me in the papers i never spoke; but i wrote many of his petitions, and some of his letters. he applied to me very often. he was, i am afraid, long flattered with hopes of life; but i had no part in the dreadful delusion; for, as soon as the king had signed his sentence[ ], i obtained from mr. chamier[ ] an account of the disposition of the court towards him, with a declaration that there _was no hope even of a respite_. this letter immediately was laid before dodd; but he believed those whom he wished to be right, as it is thought, till within three days of his end. he died with pious composure and resolution. i have just seen the ordinary that attended him. his address to his fellow-convicts offended the methodists[ ]; but he had a moravian with him much of his time[ ]. his moral character is very bad: i hope all is not true that is charged upon him. of his behaviour in prison an account will be published. 'i give you joy of your country-house, and your pretty garden; and hope some time to see you in your felicity. i was much pleased with your two letters that had been kept so long in store[ ]; and rejoice at miss rasay's advancement, and wish sir allan success. 'i hope to meet you somewhere towards the north, but am loath to come quite to carlisle. can we not meet at manchester? but we will settle it in some other letters. 'mr. seward[ ], a great favourite at streatham, has been, i think, enkindled by our travels with a curiosity to see the highlands. i have given him letters to you and beattie. he desires that a lodging may be taken for him at edinburgh, against his arrival. he is just setting out. 'langton has been exercising the militia[ ]. mrs. williams is, i fear, declining. dr. lawrence says he can do no more. she is gone to summer in the country, with as many conveniences about her as she can expect; but i have no great hope. we must all die: may we all be prepared! 'i suppose miss boswell reads her book, and young alexander takes to his learning. let me hear about them; for every thing that belongs to you, belongs in a more remote degree, and not, i hope, very remote, to, dear sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'june, , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'this gentleman is a great favourite at streatham, and therefore you will easily believe that he has very valuable qualities. our narrative has kindled him with a desire of visiting the highlands, after having already seen a great part of europe. you must receive him as a friend, and when you have directed him to the curiosities of edinburgh, give him instructions and recommendations for the rest of his journey. i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , .' johnson's benevolence to the unfortunate was, i am confident, as steady and active as that of any of those who have been most eminently distinguished for that virtue. innumerable proofs of it i have no doubt will be for ever concealed from mortal eyes. we may, however, form some judgement of it, from the many and very various instances which have been discovered. one, which happened in the course of this summer, is remarkable from the name and connection of the person who was the object of it. the circumstance to which i allude is ascertained by two letters, one to mr. langton, and another to the reverend dr. vyse, rector of lambeth, son of the respectable clergyman at lichfield, who was contemporary with johnson, and in whose father's family johnson had the happiness of being kindly received in his early years. 'dr. johnson to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have lately been much disordered by a difficulty of breathing, but am now better. i hope your house is well. 'you know we have been talking lately of st. cross, at winchester; i have an old acquaintance whose distress makes him very desirous of an hospital, and i am afraid i have not strength enough to get him into the chartreux. he is a painter, who never rose higher than to get his immediate living, and from that, at eighty-three, he is disabled by a slight stroke of the palsy, such as does not make him at all helpless on common occasions, though his hand is not steady enough for his art. 'my request is, that you will try to obtain a promise of the next vacancy, from the bishop of chester. it is not a great thing to ask, and i hope we shall obtain it. dr. warton has promised to favour him with his notice, and i hope he may end his days in peace. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , .' 'to the reverend dr. vyse, at lambeth. 'sir, 'i doubt not but you will readily forgive me for taking the liberty of requesting your assistance in recommending an old friend to his grace the archbishop, as governour of the charter-house. 'his name is de groot; he was born at gloucester; i have known him many years. he has all the common claims to charity, being old, poor, and infirm, in a great degree. he has likewise another claim, to which no scholar can refuse attention; he is by several descents the nephew of hugo grotius; of him, from whom perhaps every man of learning has learnt something. let it not be said that in any lettered country a nephew of grotius asked a charity and was refused.[ ] 'i am, reverend sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'reverend dr. vyse to mr. boswell. 'lambeth, june , . 'sir, 'i have searched in vain for the letter which i spoke of, and which i wished, at your desire, to communicate to you. it was from dr. johnson, to return me thanks for my application to archbishop cornwallis in favour of poor de groot. he rejoices at the success it met with, and is lavish in the praise he bestows upon his favourite, hugo grotius. i am really sorry that i cannot find this letter, as it is worthy of the writer. that which i send you enclosed[ ] is at your service. it is very short, and will not perhaps be thought of any consequence, unless you should judge proper to consider it as a proof of the very humane part which dr. johnson took in behalf of a distressed and deserving person. i am, sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'w. vyse.' 'dr. johnson to mr. edward dilly[ ]. 'sir, 'to the collection of _english poets_, i have recommended the volume of dr. watts to be added; his name has long been held by me in veneration[ ], and i would not willingly be reduced to tell of him only that he was born and died. yet of his life i know very little, and therefore must pass him in a manner very unworthy of his character, unless some of his friends will favour me with the necessary information; many of them must be known to you; and by your influence, perhaps i may obtain some instruction. my plan does not exact much; but i wish to distinguish watts, a man who never wrote but for a good purpose. be pleased to do for me what you can. 'i am, sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, fleet-street, july , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, july , . 'my dear sir, 'the fate of poor dr. dodd made a dismal impression upon my mind. * * * * * 'i had sagacity enough to divine that you wrote his speech to the recorder, before sentence was pronounced. i am glad you have written so much for him; and i hope to be favoured with an exact list of the several pieces when we meet. 'i received mr. seward as the friend of mr. and mrs. thrale, and as a gentleman recommended by dr. johnson to my attention. i have introduced him to lord kames, lord monboddo, and mr. nairne. he is gone to the highlands with dr. gregory; when he returns i shall do more for him. 'sir allan maclean has[ ] carried that branch of his cause, of which we had good hopes: the president and one other judge only were against him. i wish the house of lords may do as well as the court of session has done. but sir allan has not the lands of _brolos_ quite cleared by this judgement, till a long account is made up of debts and interests on the one side, and rents on the other. i am, however, not much afraid of the balance. 'macquarry's estates[ ], staffa and all, were sold yesterday, and bought by a campbell. i fear he will have little or nothing left out of the purchase money. 'i send you the case against the negro[ ], by mr. cullen, son to dr. cullen, in opposition to maclaurin's for liberty, of which you have approved. pray read this, and tell me what you think as a _politician_, as well as a _poet_, upon the subject. 'be so kind as to let me know how your time is to be distributed next autumn. i will meet you at manchester, or where you please; but i wish you would complete your tour of the cathedrals, and come to carlisle, and i will accompany you a part of the way homewards. 'i am ever, 'most faithfully yours, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'your notion of the necessity of an yearly interview is very pleasing to both my vanity and tenderness. i shall, perhaps, come to carlisle another year; but my money has not held out so well as it used to do. i shall go to ashbourne, and i purpose to make dr. taylor invite you. if you live awhile with me at his house, we shall have much time to ourselves, and our stay will be no expence to us or him. i shall leave london the th; and after some stay at oxford and lichfield, shall probably come to ashbourne about the end of your session, but of all this you shall have notice. be satisfied we will meet somewhere. 'what passed between me and poor dr. dodd you shall know more fully when we meet. 'of lawsuits there is no end; poor sir allan must have another trial, for which, however, his antagonist cannot be much blamed, having two judges on his side. i am more afraid of the debts than of the house of lords. it is scarcely to be imagined to what debts will swell, that are daily increasing by small additions, and how carelessly in a state of desperation debts are contracted. poor macquarry was far from thinking that when he sold his islands he should receive nothing. for what were they sold? and what was their yearly value? the admission of money into the highlands will soon put an end to the feudal modes of life, by making those men landlords who were not chiefs. i do not know that the people will suffer by the change; but there was in the patriarchal authority something venerable and pleasing. every eye must look with pain on a _campbell_ turning the _macquarries_ at will out of their _sedes avitæ_, their hereditary island. 'sir alexander dick is the only scotsman liberal enough not to be angry that i could not find trees, where trees were not. i was much delighted by his kind letter. 'i remember rasay with too much pleasure not to partake of the happiness of any part of that amiable family. our ramble in the islands hangs upon my imagination, i can hardly help imagining that we shall go again. pennant seems to have seen a great deal which we did not see: when we travel again let us look better about us. 'you have done right in taking your uncle's house. some change in the form of life, gives from time to time a new epocha[ ] of existence. in a new place there is something new to be done, and a different system of thoughts rises in the mind. i wish i could gather currants in your garden. now fit up a little study, and have your books ready at hand; do not spare a little money, to make your habitation pleasing to yourself. 'i have dined lately with poor dear ----[ ]. i do not think he goes on well. his table is rather coarse, and he has his children too much about him[ ]. but he is a very good man. 'mrs. williams is in the country to try if she can improve her health; she is very ill. matters have come so about that she is in the country with very good accommodation; but age and sickness, and pride, have made her so peevish that i was forced to bribe the maid to stay with her, by a secret stipulation of half a crown a week over her wages. 'our club ended its session about six weeks ago[ ]. we now only meet to dine once a fortnight. mr. dunning[ ], the great lawyer, is one of our members. the thrales are well. 'i long to know how the negro's cause will be decided. what is the opinion of lord auchinleck, or lord hailes, or lord monboddo? 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'madam, 'though i am well enough pleased with the taste of sweetmeats, very little of the pleasure which i received at the arrival of your jar of marmalade arose from eating it[ ]. i received it as a token of friendship, as a proof of reconciliation, things much sweeter than sweetmeats, and upon this consideration i return you, dear madam, my sincerest thanks. by having your kindness i think i have a double security for the continuance of mr. boswell's, which it is not to be expected that any man can long keep, when the influence of a lady so highly and so justly valued operates against him. mr. boswell will tell you that i was always faithful to your interest, and always endeavoured to exalt you in his estimation. you must now do the same for me. we must all help one another, and you must now consider me, as, dear madam, 'your most obliged, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, july , . 'my dear sir, 'this is the day on which you were to leave london and i have been amusing myself in the intervals of my law-drudgery, with figuring you in the oxford post-coach. i doubt, however, if you have had so merry a journey as you and i had in that vehicle last year, when you made so much sport with gwyn[ ], the architect. incidents upon a journey are recollected with peculiar pleasure; they are preserved in brisk spirits, and come up again in our minds, tinctured with that gaiety, or at least that animation with which we first perceived them.' * * * * * [i added, that something had occurred, which i was afraid might prevent me from meeting him[ ]; and that my wife had been affected with complaints which threatened a consumption, but was now better.] 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'do not disturb yourself about our interviews; i hope we shall have many; nor think it any thing hard or unusual, that your design of meeting me is interrupted. we have both endured greater evils, and have greater evils to expect. 'mrs. boswell's illness makes a more serious distress. does the blood rise from her lungs or from her stomach? from little vessels broken in the stomach there is no danger. blood from the lungs is, i believe, always frothy, as mixed with wind. your physicians know very well what is to be done. the loss of such a lady would, indeed, be very afflictive, and i hope she is in no danger. take care to keep her mind as easy as is possible. 'i have left langton in london. he has been down with the militia, and is again quiet at home, talking to his little people, as, i suppose, you do sometimes. make my compliments to miss veronica[ ]. the rest are too young for ceremony. 'i cannot but hope that you have taken your country-house at a very seasonable time, and that it may conduce to restore, or establish mrs. boswell's health, as well as provide room and exercise for the young ones. that you and your lady may both be happy, and long enjoy your happiness, is the sincere and earnest wish of, dear sir, 'your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'oxford, aug. , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. [informing him that my wife had continued to grow better, so that my alarming apprehensions were relieved: and that i hoped to disengage myself from the other embarrassment which had occurred, and therefore requesting to know particularly when he intended to be at ashbourne.] 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am this day come to ashbourne, and have only to tell you, that dr. taylor says you shall be welcome to him, and you know how welcome you will be to me. make haste to let me know when you may be expected. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, and tell her, i hope we shall be at variance no more. i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'august , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'on saturday i wrote a very short letter, immediately upon my arrival hither, to shew you that i am not less desirous of the interview than yourself. life admits not of delays; when pleasure can be had, it is fit to catch it. every hour takes away part of the things that please us, and perhaps part of our disposition to be pleased. when i came to lichfield, i found my old friend harry jackson dead[ ]. it was a loss, and a loss not to be repaired, as he was one of the companions of my childhood. i hope we may long continue to gain friends, but the friends which merit or usefulness can procure us, are not able to supply the place of old acquaintance, with whom the days of youth may be retraced, and those images revived which gave the earliest delight. if you and i live to be much older, we shall take great delight in talking over the hebridean journey. 'in the mean time it may not be amiss to contrive some other little adventure, but what it can be i know not; leave it, as sidney says, "to virtue, fortune, wine, and woman's breast[ ];" for i believe mrs. boswell must have some part in the consultation. 'one thing you will like. the doctor, so far as i can judge, is likely to leave us enough to ourselves. he was out to-day before _i_ came down, and, i fancy, will stay out till dinner. i have brought the papers about poor dodd, to show you, but you will soon have dispatched them. 'before i came away i sent poor mrs. williams into the country, very ill of a pituitous defluxion, which wastes her gradually away, and which her physician declares himself unable to stop. i supplied her as far as could be desired, with all conveniences to make her excursion and abode pleasant and useful. but i am afraid she can only linger a short time in a morbid state of weakness and pain. 'the thrales, little and great, are all well, and purpose to go to brighthelmstone at michaelmas. they will invite me to go with them, and perhaps i may go, but i hardly think i shall like to stay the whole time; but of futurity we know but little. 'mrs. porter is well; but mrs. aston, one of the ladies at stowhill, has been struck with a palsy, from which she is not likely ever to recover. how soon may such a stroke fall upon us! 'write to me, and let us know when we may expect you. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourne, sept. , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, sept. , . [after informing him that i was to set out next day, in order to meet him at ashbourne.] 'i have a present for you from lord hailes; the fifth book of _lactantius_, which he has published with latin notes. he is also to give you a few anecdotes for your _life of thomson_, who i find was private tutor to the present earl of hadington, lord hailes's cousin, a circumstance not mentioned by dr. murdoch. i have keen expectations of delight from your edition of _the english poets_. 'i am sorry for poor mrs. williams's situation. you will, however, have the comfort of reflecting on your kindness to her. mr. jackson's death, and mrs. aston's palsy, are gloomy circumstances. yet surely we should be habituated to the uncertainty of life and health. when my mind is unclouded by melancholy, i consider the temporary distresses of this state of being, as "light afflictions[ ]," by stretching my mental view into that glorious after-existence, when they will appear to be as nothing. but present pleasures and present pains must be felt. i lately read _rasselas_ over again with great satisfaction[ ]. 'since you are desirous to hear about macquarry's sale i shall inform you particularly. the gentleman who purchased ulva is mr. campbell, of auchnaba: our friend macquarry was proprietor of two-thirds of it, of which the rent was £ s - / d. this parcel was set up at £ , s. d., but it sold for no less than £ , . the other third of ulva, with the island of staffa, belonged to macquarry of ormaig. its rent, including that of staffa, £ s. - / d. set up at £ s. d.--sold for no less than £ , . the laird of col wished to purchase ulva, but he thought the price too high. there may, indeed, be great improvements made there, both in fishing and agriculture; but the interest of the purchase-money exceeds the rent so very much, that i doubt if the bargain will be profitable. there is an island called little colonsay, of £ yearly rent, which i am informed has belonged to the macquarrys of ulva for many ages, but which was lately claimed by the presbyterian synod of argyll, in consequence of a grant made to them by queen anne. it is believed that their claim will be dismissed, and that little colonsay will also be sold for the advantage of macquarry's creditors. what think you of purchasing this island, and endowing a school or college there, the master to be a clergyman of the church of england? how venerable would such an institution make the name of dr. samuel johnson in the hebrides! i have, like yourself, a wonderful pleasure in recollecting our travels in those islands. the pleasure is, i think, greater than it reasonably should be, considering that we had not much either of beauty or elegance to charm our imaginations, or of rude novelty to astonish. let us, by all means, have another expedition. i shrink a little from our scheme of going up the baltick[ ]. i am sorry you have already been in wales; for i wish to see it. shall we go to ireland, of which i have seen but little? we shall try to strike out a plan when we are at ashbourne. i am ever, 'your most faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i write to be left at carlisle, as you direct me; but you cannot have it. your letter, dated sept. , was not at this place till this day, thursday, sept. ; and i hope you will be here before this is at carlisle[ ]. however, what you have not going, you may have returning; and as i believe i shall not love you less after our interview, it will then be as true as it is now, that i set a very high value upon your friendship, and count your kindness as one of the chief felicities of my life. do not fancy that an intermission of writing is a decay of kindness. no man is always in a disposition to write; nor has any man at all times something to say. 'that distrust which intrudes so often on your mind is a mode of melancholy, which, if it be the business of a wise man to be happy, it is foolish to indulge; and if it be a duty to preserve our faculties entire for their proper use, it is criminal. suspicion is very often an useless pain. from that, and all other pains, i wish you free and safe; for i am, dear sir, 'most affectionately yours, 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourne, sept. , .' on sunday evening sept. , i arrived at ashbourne, and drove directly up to dr. taylor's door. dr. johnson and he appeared before i had got out of the post-chaise, and welcomed me cordially[ ]. i told them that i had travelled all the preceding night, and gone to bed at leek in staffordshire; and that when i rose to go to church in the afternoon, i was informed there had been an earthquake[ ], of which, it seems, the shock had been felt in some degree at ashbourne. johnson. 'sir, it will be much exaggerated in popular talk: for, in the first place, the common people do not accurately adapt their thoughts to the objects; nor, secondly, do they accurately adapt their words to their thoughts: they do not mean to lie; but, taking no pains to be exact, they give you very false accounts. a great part of their language is proverbial. if anything rocks at all, they say _it rocks like a cradle_; and in this way they go on.' the subject of grief for the loss of relations and friends being introduced, i observed that it was strange to consider how soon it in general wears away. dr. taylor mentioned a gentleman of the neighbourhood as the only instance he had ever known of a person who had endeavoured to _retain_ grief. he told dr. taylor, that after his lady's death, which affected him deeply, he _resolved_ that the grief, which he cherished with a kind of sacred fondness, should be lasting; but that he found he could not keep it long. johnson. 'all grief for what cannot in the course of nature be helped, soon wears away; in some sooner, indeed, in some later; but it never continues very long, unless where there is madness, such as will make a man have pride so fixed in his mind, as to imagine himself a king; or any other passion in an unreasonable way: for all unnecessary grief is unwise, and therefore will not be long retained by a sound mind[ ]. if, indeed, the cause of our grief is occasioned by our own misconduct, if grief is mingled with remorse of conscience, it should be lasting.' boswell. 'but, sir, we do not approve of a man who very soon forgets the loss of a wife or a friend.' johnson. 'sir, we disapprove of him, not because he soon forgets his grief, for the sooner it is forgotten the better, but because we suppose, that if he forgets his wife or his friend soon, he has not had much affection for them[ ].' i was somewhat disappointed in finding that the edition of _the english poets_, for which he was to write prefaces and lives, was not an undertaking directed by him: but that he was to furnish a preface and life to any poet the booksellers pleased. i asked him if he would do this to any dunce's works, if they should ask him. johnson. 'yes, sir; and _say_ he was a dunce.' my friend seemed now not much to relish talking of this edition. on monday, september , dr. johnson observed, that every body commended such parts of his _journey to the western islands_, as were in their own way. 'for instance, (said he,) mr. jackson (the all-knowing)[ ] told me there was more good sense upon trade in it, than he should hear in the house of commons in a year, except from burke. jones commended the part which treats of language; burke that which describes the inhabitants of mountainous countries[ ].' after breakfast, johnson carried me to see the garden belonging to the school of ashbourne, which is very prettily formed upon a bank, rising gradually behind the house. the reverend mr. langley[ ], the head-master, accompanied us. while we sat basking in the sun upon a seat here, i introduced a common subject of complaint, the very small salaries which many curates have, and i maintained, 'that no man should be invested with the character of a clergyman, unless he has a security for such an income as will enable him to appear respectable; that, therefore, a clergyman should not be allowed to have a curate, unless he gives him a hundred pounds a year; if he cannot do that, let him perform the duty himself.' johnson. 'to be sure, sir, it is wrong that any clergyman should be without a reasonable income; but as the church revenues were sadly diminished at the reformation, the clergy who have livings cannot afford, in many instances, to give good salaries to curates, without leaving themselves too little; and, if no curate were to be permitted unless he had a hundred pounds a year, their number would be very small, which would be a disadvantage, as then there would not be such choice in the nursery for the church, curates being candidates for the higher ecclesiastical offices, according to their merit and good behaviour.' he explained the system of the english hierarchy exceedingly well. 'it is not thought fit (said he) to trust a man with the care of a parish till he has given proof as a curate that he shall deserve such a trust.' this is an excellent _theory_; and if the _practice_ were according to it, the church of england would be admirable indeed. however, as i have heard dr. johnson observe as to the universities, bad practice does not infer that the _constitution_ is bad[ ]. we had with us at dinner several of dr. taylor's neighbours, good civil gentlemen, who seemed to understand dr. johnson very well, and not to consider him in the light that a certain person did[ ], who being struck, or rather stunned by his voice and manner, when he was afterwards asked what he thought of him, answered, 'he's a tremendous companion.' johnson told me, that 'taylor was a very sensible acute man, and had a strong mind[ ]; that he had great activity in some respects, and yet such a sort of indolence, that if you should put a pebble upon his chimney-piece, you would find it there, in the same state, a year afterwards.' and here is the proper place to give an account of johnson's humane and zealous interference in behalf of the reverend dr. william dodd, formerly prebendary of brecon, and chaplain in ordinary to his majesty[ ]; celebrated as a very popular preacher[ ], an encourager of charitable institutions, and authour of a variety of works, chiefly theological. having unhappily contracted expensive habits of living, partly occasioned by licentiousness of manners, he in an evil hour, when pressed by want of money, and dreading an exposure of his circumstances, forged a bond of which he attempted to avail himself to support his credit, flattering himself with hopes that he might be able to repay its amount without being detected. the person, whose name he thus rashly and criminally presumed to falsify, was the earl of chesterfield[ ], to whom he had been tutor, and who, he perhaps, in the warmth of his feelings, flattered himself would have generously paid the money in case of an alarm being taken, rather than suffer him to fall a victim to the dreadful consequences of violating the law against forgery, the most dangerous crime in a commercial country; but the unfortunate divine had the mortification to find that he was mistaken. his noble pupil appeared against him, and he was capitally convicted. johnson told me that dr. dodd was very little acquainted with him, having been but once in his company, many years previous to this period[ ] (which was precisely the state of my own acquaintance with dodd); but in his distress he bethought himself of johnson's persuasive power of writing, if haply it might avail to obtain for him the royal mercy. he did not apply to him, directly, but, extraordinary as it may seem, through the late countess of harrington, who wrote a letter to johnson, asking him to employ his pen in favour of dodd. mr. allen, the printer, who was johnson's landlord and next neighbour in bolt-court, and for whom he had much kindness[ ], was one of dodd's friends, of whom to the credit of humanity be it recorded, that he had many who did not desert him, even after his infringement of the law had reduced him to the state of a man under sentence of death. mr. allen told me that he carried lady harrington's letter to johnson, that johnson read it walking up and down his chamber, and seemed much agitated, after which he said, 'i will do what i can;'--and certainly he did make extraordinary exertions. he this evening, as he had obligingly promised in one of his letters, put into my hands the whole series of his writings upon this melancholy occasion, and i shall present my readers with the abstract which i made from the collection; in doing which i studied to avoid copying what had appeared in print, and now make part of the edition of _johnson's works_, published by the booksellers of london, but taking care to mark johnson's variations in some of the pieces there exhibited. dr. johnson wrote in the first place, dr. dodd's _speech to the recorder of london_, at the old-bailey, when sentence of death was about to be pronounced upon him. he wrote also _the convict's address to his unhappy brethren_, a sermon delivered by dr. dodd, in the chapel of newgate[ ]. according to johnson's manuscript it began thus after the text, _what shall i do to be saved?_[ ]-- 'these were the words with which the keeper, to whose custody paul and silas were committed by their prosecutors, addressed his prisoners, when he saw them freed from their bonds by the perceptible agency of divine favour, and was, therefore, irresistibly convinced that they were not offenders against the laws, but martyrs to the truth.' dr. johnson was so good as to mark for me with his own hand, on a copy of this sermon which is now in my possession, such passages as were added by dr. dodd. they are not many: whoever will take the trouble to look at the printed copy, and attend to what i mention, will be satisfied of this. there is a short introduction by dr. dodd, and he also inserted this sentence, 'you see with what confusion and dishonour i now stand before you;--no more in the pulpit of instruction, but on this humble seat with yourselves.' the _notes_ are entirely dodd's own, and johnson's writing ends at the words, 'the thief whom he pardoned on the cross[ ].' what follows was supplied by dr. dodd himself[ ]. the other pieces mentioned by johnson in the above-mentioned collection, are two letters, one to the lord chancellor bathurst, (not lord north, as is erroneously supposed,) and one to lord mansfield;--a petition from dr. dodd to the king;--a petition from mrs. dodd to the queen;-- observations of some length inserted in the news-papers, on occasion of earl percy's having presented to his majesty a petition for mercy to dodd, signed by twenty thousand people, but all in vain. he told me that he had also written a petition from the city of london; 'but (said he, with a significant smile) they _mended_ it[ ].' the last of these articles which johnson wrote is _dr. dodd's last solemn declaration_, which he left with the sheriff at the place of execution. here also my friend marked the variations on a copy of that piece now in my possession. dodd inserted, 'i never knew or attended to the calls of frugality, or the needful minuteness of painful oeconomy;' and in the next sentence he introduced the words which i distinguish by _italicks_; 'my life for some _few unhappy_ years past has been _dreadfully erroneous_.' johnson's expression was _hypocritical_; but his remark on the margin is 'with this he said he could not charge himself.' having thus authentically settled what part of the _occasional papers_, concerning dr. dodd's miserable situation, came from the pen of johnson, i shall proceed to present my readers with my record of the unpublished writings relating to that extraordinary and interesting matter. i found a letter to dr. johnson from dr. dodd, may , , in which _the convict's address_ seems clearly to be meant:-- 'i am so penetrated, my ever dear sir, with a sense of your extreme benevolence towards me, that i cannot find words equal to the sentiments of my heart. * * * * * 'you are too conversant in the world to need the slightest hint from me, of what infinite utility the speech[ ] on the aweful day has been to me. i experience, every hour, some good effect from it. i am sure that effects still more salutary and important must follow from _your kind and intended favour_. i will labour--god being my helper,--to do justice to it from the pulpit. i am sure, had i your sentiments constantly to deliver from thence, in all their mighty force and power, not a soul could be left unconvinced and unpersuaded.' * * * * * he added:-- 'may god almighty bless and reward, with his choicest comforts, your philanthropick actions, and enable me at all times to express what i feel of the high and uncommon obligations which i owe to the _first man_ in our times.' on sunday, june , he writes, begging dr. johnson's assistance in framing a supplicatory letter to his majesty:-- 'if his majesty could be moved of his royal clemency to spare me and my family the horrours and ignominy of a _publick death_, which the publick itself is solicitous to wave, and to grant me in some silent distant corner of the globe, to pass the remainder of my days in penitence and prayer, i would bless his clemency and be humbled.' this letter was brought to dr. johnson when in church. he stooped down and read it, and wrote, when he went home, the following letter for dr. dodd to the king:-- 'sir, 'may it not offend your majesty, that the most miserable of men applies himself to your clemency, as his last hope and his last refuge; that your mercy is most earnestly and humbly implored by a clergyman, whom your laws and judges have condemned to the horrour and ignominy of a publick execution. 'i confess the crime, and own the enormity of its consequences, and the danger of its example. nor have i the confidence to petition for impunity; but humbly hope, that publick security may be established, without the spectacle of a clergyman dragged through the streets, to a death of infamy, amidst the derision of the profligate and profane; and that justice may be satisfied with irrevocable exile, perpetual disgrace, and hopeless penury. 'my life, sir, has not been useless to mankind. i have benefited many. but my offences against god are numberless, and i have had little time for repentance. preserve me, sir, by your prerogative of mercy, from the necessity of appearing unprepared at that tribunal, before which kings and subjects must stand at last together. permit me to hide my guilt in some obscure corner of a foreign country, where, if i can ever attain confidence to hope that my prayers will be heard, they shall be poured with all the fervour of gratitude for the life and happiness of your majesty. i am, sir, 'your majesty's, &c.' subjoined to it was written as follows: 'to dr. dodd. 'sir, 'i most seriously enjoin you not to let it be at all known that i have written this letter, and to return the copy to mr. allen in a cover to me. i hope i need not tell you, that i wish it success.--but do not indulge hope.--tell nobody.' it happened luckily that mr. allen was pitched on to assist in this melancholy office, for he was a great friend of mr. akerman, the keeper of newgate. dr. johnson never went to see dr. dodd. he said to me, 'it would have done _him_ more harm, than good to dodd, who once expressed a desire to see him, but not earnestly.' dr. johnson, on the th of june, wrote the following letter: 'to the right honourable charles jenkinson. 'sir, 'since the conviction and condemnation of dr. dodd, i have had, by the intervention of a friend, some intercourse with him, and i am sure i shall lose nothing in your opinion by tenderness and commiseration. whatever be the crime, it is not easy to have any knowledge of the delinquent, without a wish that his life may be spared; at least when no life has been taken away by him. i will, therefore, take the liberty of suggesting some reasons for which i wish this unhappy being to escape the utmost rigour of his sentence. 'he is, so far as i can recollect, the first clergyman of our church who has suffered publick execution for immorality; and i know not whether it would not be more for the interest of religion to bury such an offender in the obscurity of perpetual exile, than to expose him in a cart, and on the gallows, to all who for any reason are enemies to the clergy. 'the supreme power has, in all ages, paid some attention to the voice of the people; and that voice does not least deserve to be heard, when it calls out for mercy. there is now a very general desire that dodd's life should be spared. more is not wished; and, perhaps, this is not too much to be granted. 'if you, sir, have any opportunity of enforcing these reasons, you may, perhaps, think them worthy of consideration: but whatever you determine, i most respectfully intreat that you will be pleased to pardon for this intrusion, sir, 'your most obedient 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' it has been confidently circulated, with invidious remarks, that to this letter no attention whatever was paid by mr. jenkinson (afterwards earl of liverpool[ ]), and that he did not even deign to shew the common civility of owning the receipt of it. i could not but wonder at such conduct in the noble lord, whose own character and just elevation in life, i thought, must have impressed him with all due regard for great abilities and attainments. as the story had been much talked of, and apparently from good authority, i could not but have animadverted upon it in this work, had it been as was alleged; but from my earnest love of truth, and having found reason to think that there might be a mistake, i presumed to write to his lordship, requesting an explanation; and it is with the sincerest pleasure that i am enabled to assure the world, that there is no foundation for it, the fact being, that owing to some neglect, or accident, johnson's letter never came to lord hawkesbury's hands. i should have thought it strange indeed, if that noble lord had undervalued my illustrious friend; but instead of this being the case, his lordship, in the very polite answer with which he was pleased immediately to honour me, thus expresses himself:--'i have always respected the memory of dr. johnson, and admire his writings; and i frequently read many parts of them with pleasure and great improvement.' all applications for the royal mercy having failed, dr. dodd prepared himself for death; and, with a warmth of gratitude, wrote to dr. johnson as follows: 'june , _midnight_. 'accept, thou _great_ and _good_ heart, my earnest and fervent thanks and prayers for all thy benevolent and kind efforts in my behalf.--oh! dr. johnson! as i sought your knowledge at an early hour in life, would to heaven i had cultivated the love and acquaintance of so excellent a man!--i pray god most sincerely to bless you with the highest transports--the infelt satisfaction of _humane_ and benevolent exertions!--and admitted, as i trust i shall be, to the realms of bliss before you, i shall hail _your_ arrival there with transports, and rejoice to acknowledge that you was my comforter, my advocate and my _friend_! god _be ever_ with _you_!' dr. johnson lastly wrote to dr. dodd this solemn and soothing letter: 'to the reverend dr. dodd. 'dear sir, 'that which is appointed to all men is now coming upon you. outward circumstances, the eyes and the thoughts of men, are below the notice of an immortal being about to stand the trial for eternity, before the supreme judge of heaven and earth. be comforted: your crime, morally or religiously considered, has no very deep dye of turpitude. it corrupted no man's principles; it attacked no man's life. it involved only a temporary and reparable injury. of this, and of all other sins, you are earnestly to repent; and may god, who knoweth our frailty, and desireth not our death, accept your repentance, for the sake of his son jesus christ our lord. 'in requital of those well-intended offices which you are pleased so emphatically to acknowledge, let me beg that you make in your devotions one petition for my eternal welfare. i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'june , .' under the copy of this letter i found written, in johnson's own hand, 'next day, june , he was executed.' to conclude this interesting episode with an useful application, let us now attend to the reflections of johnson at the end of the _occasional papers_, concerning the unfortunate dr. dodd: 'such were the last thoughts of a man whom we have seen exulting in popularity, and sunk in shame. for his reputation, which no man can give to himself, those who conferred it are to answer. of his publick ministry the means of judging were sufficiently attainable. he must be allowed to preach well, whose sermons strike his audience with forcible conviction. of his life, those who thought it consistent with his doctrine, did not originally form false notions. he was at first what he endeavoured to make others; but the world broke down his resolution, and he in time ceased to exemplify his own instructions. 'let those who are tempted to his faults, tremble at his punishment; and those whom he impressed from the pulpit with religious sentiments, endeavour to confirm them, by considering the regret and self-abhorrence with which he reviewed in prison his deviations from rectitude.' johnson gave us this evening, in his happy discriminative manner, a portrait of the late mr. fitzherbert, of derbyshire. 'there was (said he) no sparkle, no brilliancy in fitzherbert; but i never knew a man who was so generally acceptable[ ]. he made every body quite easy, overpowered nobody by the superiority of his talents, made no man think worse of himself by being his rival, seemed always to listen, did not oblige you to hear much from him, and did not oppose what you said. every body liked him; but he had no friend, as i understand the word, nobody with whom he exchanged intimate thoughts[ ]. people were willing to think well of every thing about him. a gentleman was making an affected rant, as many people do, of great feelings about "his dear son," who was at school near london; how anxious he was lest he might be ill, and what he would give to see him. "can't you (said fitzherbert,) take a post-chaise and go to him." this, to be sure, _finished_ the affected man, but there was not much in it[ ]. however, this was circulated as wit for a whole winter, and i believe part of a summer too; a proof that he was no very witty man. he was an instance of the truth of the observation, that a man will please more upon the whole by negative qualities than by positive; by never offending, than by giving a great deal of delight. in the first place, men hate more steadily than they love; and if i have said something to hurt a man once, i shall not get the better of this, by saying many things to please him[ ].' tuesday, september , dr. johnson having mentioned to me the extraordinary size and price of some cattle reared by dr. taylor, i rode out with our host, surveyed his farm, and was shown one cow which he had sold for a hundred and twenty guineas, and another for which he had been offered a hundred and thirty[ ]. taylor thus described to me his old schoolfellow and friend, johnson: 'he is a man of a very clear head, great power of words, and a very gay imagination; but there is no disputing with him. he will not hear you, and having a louder voice than you, must roar you down.' in the afternoon i tried to get dr. johnson to like the poems of mr. hamilton of bangour[ ], which i had brought with me: i had been much pleased with them at a very early age; the impression still remained on my mind; it was confirmed by the opinion of my friend the honourable andrew erskine, himself both a good poet[ ] and a good critick, who thought hamilton as true a poet as ever wrote, and that his not having fame was unaccountable. johnson, upon repeated occasions, while i was at ashbourne, talked slightingly of hamilton. he said there was no power of thinking in his verses, nothing that strikes one, nothing better than what you generally find in magazines; and that the highest praise they deserved was, that they were very well for a gentleman to hand about among his friends. he said the imitation of _ne sit ancillæ tibi amor_[ ], &c. was too solemn; he read part of it at the beginning. he read the beautiful pathetick song, _ah the poor shepherd's mournful fate_, and did not seem to give attention to what i had been used to think tender elegant strains, but laughed at the rhyme, in scotch pronunciation, _wishes and blushes_[ ], reading _wushes_--and there he stopped. he owned that the epitaph on lord newhall was pretty well done. he read the _inscription in a summer-house_, and a little of the imitations of horace's _epistles_; but said he found nothing to make him desire to read on. when i urged that there were some good poetical passages in the book. 'where (said he,) will you find so large a collection without some?' i thought the description of winter might obtain his approbation: 'see[ ] winter, from the frozen north drives his iron chariot forth! his grisly hand in icy chains fair tweeda's silver flood constrains,' &c. he asked why an '_iron_ chariot'? and said 'icy chains' was an old image[ ]. i was struck with the uncertainty of taste, and somewhat sorry that a poet whom i had long read with fondness, was not approved by dr. johnson. i comforted myself with thinking that the beauties were too delicate for his robust perceptions. garrick maintained that he had not a taste for the finest productions of genius: but i was sensible, that when he took the trouble to analyse critically, he generally convinced us that he was right. in the evening, the reverend mr. seward[ ], of lichfield, who was passing through ashbourne in his way home, drank tea with us. johnson described him thus:--'sir, his ambition is to be a fine talker; so he goes to buxton, and such places, where he may find companies to listen to him. and, sir, he is valetudinarian, one of those who are always mending themselves. i do not know a more disagreeable character than a valetudinarian, who thinks he may do any thing that is for his ease, and indulges himself in the grossest freedoms: sir, he brings himself to the state of a hog in a stye[ ].' dr. taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's interval. dr. johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick[ ], disapproved much of periodical bleeding[ ]. 'for (said he) you accustom yourself to an evacuation which nature cannot perform of herself, and therefore she cannot help you, should you, from forgetfulness or any other cause, omit it; so you may be suddenly suffocated. you may accustom yourself to other periodical evacuations, because should you omit them, nature can supply the omission; but nature cannot open a vein to blood you.'--'i do not like to take an emetick, (said taylor,) for fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'poh! (said johnson,) if you have so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. you will break no small vessels' (blowing with high derision). i mentioned to dr. johnson, that david hume's persisting in his infidelity, when he was dying, shocked me much. johnson. 'why should it shock you, sir? hume owned he had never read the new testament with attention. here then was a man, who had been at no pains to inquire into the truth of religion, and had continually turned his mind the other way. it was not to be expected that the prospect of death would alter his way of thinking, unless god should send an angel to set him right.' i said, i had reason to believe that the thought of annihilation gave hume no pain. johnson. 'it was not so, sir[ ]. he had a vanity in being thought easy. it is more probable that he should assume an appearance of ease, than that so very improbable a thing should be, as a man not afraid of going (as, in spite of his delusive theory, he cannot be sure but he may go,) into an unknown state, and not being uneasy at leaving all he knew. and you are to consider, that upon his own principle of annihilation he had no motive to speak the truth.' the horrour of death which i had always observed in dr. johnson, appeared strong to-night. i ventured to tell him, that i had been, for moments in my life, not afraid of death; therefore i could suppose another man in that state of mind for a considerable space of time. he said, 'he never had a moment in which death was not terrible to him[ ].' he added, that it had been observed, that scarce any man[ ] dies in publick, but with apparent resolution; from that desire of praise which never quits us. i said, dr. dodd seemed to be willing to die, and full of hopes of happiness. 'sir, (said he,) dr. dodd would have given both his hands and both his legs to have lived. the better a man is, the more afraid he is of death, having a clearer view of infinite purity.' he owned, that our being in an unhappy uncertainty as to our salvation, was mysterious; and said, 'ah! we must wait till we are in another state of being, to have many things explained to us.' even the powerful mind of johnson seemed foiled by futurity. but i thought, that the gloom of uncertainty in solemn religious speculation, being mingled with hope, was yet more consolatory than the emptiness of infidelity. a man can live in thick air, but perishes in an exhausted receiver. dr. johnson was much pleased with a remark which i told him was made to me by general paoli:--'that it is impossible not to be afraid of death; and that those who at the time of dying are not afraid, are not thinking of death, but of applause, or something else, which keeps death out of their sight: so that all men are equally afraid of death when they see it; only some have a power of turning their sight away from it better than others[ ].' on wednesday, september , dr. butter, physician at derby, drank tea with us; and it was settled that dr. johnson and i should go on friday and dine with him. johnson said, 'i'm glad of this.' he seemed weary of the uniformity of life at dr. taylor's. talking of biography, i said, in writing a life, a man's peculiarities should be mentioned, because they mark his character. johnson. 'sir, there is no doubt as to peculiarities: the question is, whether a man's vices should be mentioned; for instance, whether it should be mentioned that addison and parnell drank too freely: for people will probably more easily indulge in drinking from knowing this; so that more ill may be done by the example, than good by telling the whole truth[ ].' here was an instance of his varying from himself in talk; for when lord hailes and he sat one morning calmly conversing in my house at edinburgh, i well remember that dr. johnson maintained, that 'if a man is to write a _panegyrick_, he may keep vices out of sight; but if he professes to write _a life_, he must represent it really as it was:' and when i objected to the danger of telling that parnell drank to excess, he said, that 'it would produce an instructive caution to avoid drinking, when it was seen, that even the learning and genius of parnell could be debased by it.' and in the hebrides he maintained, as appears from my _journal_[ ], that a man's intimate friend should mention his faults, if he writes his life[ ]. he had this evening, partly, i suppose, from the spirit of contradiction to his whig friend, a violent argument with dr. taylor, as to the inclinations of the people of england at this time towards the royal family of stuart. he grew so outrageous as to say, 'that, if england were fairly polled, the present king would be sent away to-night, and his adherents hanged to-morrow.' taylor, who was as violent a whig as johnson was a tory, was roused by this to a pitch of bellowing. he denied, loudly, what johnson said; and maintained, that there was an abhorrence against the stuart family, though he admitted that the people were not much attached to the present king[ ]. johnson. 'sir, the state of the country is this: the people knowing it to be agreed on all hands that this king has not the hereditary right to the crown, and there being no hope that he who has it can be restored, have grown cold and indifferent upon the subject of loyalty, and have no warm attachment to any king. they would not, therefore, risk any thing to restore the exiled family. they would not give twenty shillings a piece to bring it about. but, if a mere vote could do it, there would be twenty to one; at least, there would be a very great majority of voices for it. for, sir, you are to consider, that all those who think a king has a right to his crown, as a man has to his estate, which is the just opinion, would be for restoring the king who certainly has the hereditary right, could he be trusted with it; in which there would be no danger now, when laws and every thing else are so much advanced: and every king will govern by the laws. and you must also consider, sir, that there is nothing on the other side to oppose to this; for it is not alleged by any one that the present family has any inherent right[ ]: so that the whigs could not have a contest between two rights.' dr. taylor admitted, that if the question as to hereditary right were to be tried by a poll of the people of england, to be sure the abstract doctrine would be given in favour of the family of stuart; but he said, the conduct of that family, which occasioned their expulsion, was so fresh in the minds of the people, that they would not vote for a restoration. dr. johnson, i think, was contented with the admission as to the hereditary right, leaving the original point in dispute, _viz_. what the people upon the whole would do, taking in right and affection; for he said, people were afraid of a change, even though they think it right. dr. taylor said something of the slight foundation of the hereditary right, of the house of stuart. 'sir, (said johnson,) the house of stuart succeeded to the full right of both the houses of york and lancaster, whose common source had the undisputed right. a right to a throne is like a right to any thing else. possession is sufficient, where no better right can be shown. this was the case with the royal family of england, as it is now with the king of france: for as to the first beginning of the right, we are in the dark[ ].' thursday, september . last night dr. johnson had proposed that the crystal lustre, or chandelier, in dr. taylor's large room, should be lighted up some time or other. taylor said, it should be lighted up next night. 'that will do very well, (said i,) for it is dr. johnson's birth-day[ ].' when we were in the isle of sky, johnson had desired me not to mention his birth-day. he did not seem pleased at this time that i mentioned it, and said (somewhat sternly) 'he would _not_ have the lustre lighted the next day.' some ladies, who had been present yesterday when i mentioned his birth-day, came to dinner to-day, and plagued him unintentionally, by wishing him joy. i know not why he disliked having his birth-day mentioned, unless it were that it reminded him of his approaching nearer to death, of which he had a constant dread[ ]. i mentioned to him a friend of mine who was formerly gloomy from low spirits, and much distressed by the fear of death, but was now uniformly placid, and contemplated his dissolution without any perturbation. 'sir, (said johnson,) this is only a disordered imagination taking a different turn.' we talked of a collection being made of all the english poets who had published a volume of poems. johnson told me 'that a mr. coxeter[ ], whom he knew, had gone the greatest length towards this; having collected, i think, about five hundred volumes of poets whose works were little known; but that upon his death tom osborne[ ] bought them, and they were dispersed, which he thought a pity, as it was curious to see any series complete; and in every volume of poems something good may be found.' he observed, that a gentleman of eminence in literature had got into a bad style of poetry of late[ ]. 'he puts (said he) a very common thing in a strange dress till he does not know it himself, and thinks other people do not know it.' boswell. 'that is owing to his being so much versant in old english poetry[ ].' johnson. 'what is the purpose, sir? if i say a man is drunk, and you tell me it is owing to his taking much drink, the matter is not mended. no, sir, ---- has taken to an odd mode. for example; he'd write thus: "hermit hoar, in solemn cell, wearing out life's evening gray[ ]." _gray evening_ is common enough; but _evening gray_ he'd think fine[ ].--stay;--we'll make out the stanza: "hermit hoar, in solemn cell, wearing out life's evening gray; smite thy bosom, sage, and tell, what is bliss? and which the way?"' boswell. 'but why smite his bosom, sir?' johnson. 'why to shew he was in earnest,' (smiling).--he at an after period added the following stanza: 'thus i spoke; and speaking sigh'd; --scarce repress'd the starting tear;-- when the smiling sage reply'd-- --come, my lad, and drink some beer[ ].' i cannot help thinking the first stanza very good solemn poetry, as also the three first lines of the second. its last line is an excellent burlesque surprise on gloomy sentimental enquirers. and, perhaps, the advice is as good as can be given to a low-spirited dissatisfied being:--'don't trouble your head with sickly thinking: take a cup, and be merry.' friday, september , after breakfast dr. johnson and i set out in dr. taylor's chaise to go to derby. the day was fine, and we resolved to go by keddlestone, the seat of lord scarsdale, that i might see his lordship's fine house. i was struck with the magnificence of the building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me. the number of old oaks, of an immense size, filled me with a sort of respectful admiration: for one of them sixty pounds was offered. the excellent smooth gravel roads; the large piece of water formed by his lordship from some small brooks, with a handsome barge upon it; the venerable gothick church, now the family chapel, just by the house; in short, the grand group of objects agitated and distended my mind in a most agreeable manner. 'one should think (said i) that the proprietor of all this _must_ be happy.'--'nay, sir, (said johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty[ ].' our names were sent up, and a well-drest elderly housekeeper, a most distinct articulator, shewed us the house; which i need not describe, as there is an account of it published in _adam's works in architecture_. dr. johnson thought better of it to-day than when he saw it before[ ]; for he had lately attacked it violently, saying, 'it would do excellently for a town-hall. the large room with the pillars (said he) would do for the judges to sit in at the assizes; the circular room for a jury-chamber; and the room above for prisoners.' still he thought the large room ill lighted, and of no use but for dancing in; and the bed-chambers but indifferent rooms; and that the immense sum which it cost was injudiciously laid out. dr. taylor had put him in mind of his _appearing_ pleased with the house. 'but (said he) that was when lord scarsdale was present. politeness obliges us to appear pleased with a man's works when he is present. no man will be so ill bred as to question you. you may therefore pay compliments without saying what is not true. i should say to lord scarsdale of his large room, "my lord, this is the most _costly_ room that i ever saw;" which is true.' dr. manningham, physician in london, who was visiting at lord scarsdale's, accompanyed us through many of the rooms, and soon afterwards my lord himself, to whom dr. johnson was known, appeared, and did the honours of the house. we talked of mr. langton. johnson, with a warm vehemence of affectionate regard, exclaimed, 'the earth does not bear a worthier man than bennet langton.' we saw a good many fine pictures, which i think are described in one of _young's tours_[ ]. there is a printed catalogue of them which the housekeeper put into my hand; i should like to view them at leisure. i was much struck with daniel interpreting nebuchadnezzar's dream by rembrandt. we were shown a pretty large library. in his lordship's dressing-room lay johnson's small _dictionary_: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying, 'look 'ye! _quæ terra nostri non plena laboris_[ ].' he observed, also, goldsmith's _animated nature_; and said, 'here's our friend! the poor doctor would have been happy to hear of this.' in our way, johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a post-chaise[ ]. 'if (said he) i had no duties, and no reference to futurity, i would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would add something to the conversation.' i observed, that we were this day to stop just where the highland army did in [ ]. johnson. 'it was a noble attempt.' boswell. 'i wish we could have an authentick history of it.' johnson. 'if you were not an idle dog you might write it, by collecting from every body what they can tell, and putting down your authorities.' boswell. 'but i could not have the advantage of it in my life-time.' johnson. 'you might have the satisfaction of its fame, by printing it in holland; and as to profit, consider how long it was before writing came to be considered in a pecuniary view. baretti says, he is the first man that ever received copy-money in italy[ ].' i said that i would endeavour to do what dr. johnson suggested; and i thought that i might write so as to venture to publish my _history of the civil war in great-britain in and _ without being obliged to go to a foreign press[ ]. when we arrived at derby, dr. butter accompanied us to see the manufactory of china there. i admired the ingenuity and delicate art with which a man fashioned clay into a cup, a saucer, or a tea-pot, while a boy turned round a wheel to give the mass rotundity. i thought this as excellent in its species of power, as making good verses in _its_ species. yet i had no respect for this potter. neither, indeed, has a man of any extent of thinking for a mere verse-maker, in whose numbers, however perfect, there is no poetry, no mind. the china was beautiful, but dr. johnson justly observed it was too dear; for that he could have vessels of silver, of the same size, as cheap as what were here made of porcelain[ ]. i felt a pleasure in walking about derby such as i always have in walking about any town to which i am not accustomed. there is an immediate sensation of novelty; and one speculates on the way in which life is passed in it, which, although there is a sameness every where upon the whole, is yet minutely diversified. the minute diversities in every thing are wonderful. talking of shaving the other night at dr. taylor's, dr. johnson said, 'sir, of a thousand shavers, two do not shave so much alike as not to be distinguished.' i thought this not possible, till he specified so many of the varieties in shaving;--holding the razor more or less perpendicular;--drawing long or short strokes;--beginning at the upper part of the face, or the under;--at the right side or the left side. indeed, when one considers what variety of sounds can be uttered by the windpipe, in the compass of a very small aperture, we may be convinced how many degrees of difference there may be in the application of a razor. we dined with dr. butter, whose lady is daughter of my cousin sir john douglas, whose grandson is now presumptive heir of the noble family of queensberry. johnson and he had a good deal of medical conversation. johnson said, he had somewhere or other given an account of dr. nichols's[ ] discourse _de animá medicâ_. he told us 'that whatever a man's distemper was, dr. nichols would not attend him as a physician, if his mind was not at ease; for he believed that no medicines would have any influence. he once attended a man in trade, upon whom he found none of the medicines he prescribed had any effect: he asked the man's wife privately whether his affairs were not in a bad way? she said no. he continued his attendance some time, still without success. at length the man's wife told him, she had discovered that her husband's affairs _were_ in a bad way. when goldsmith was dying, dr. turton said to him, "your pulse is in greater disorder than it should be, from the degree of fever which you have: is your mind at ease?" goldsmith answered it was not.' after dinner, mrs. butter went with me to see the silk-mill which mr. john lombe had[ ] had a patent for, having brought away the contrivance from italy. i am not very conversant with mechanicks; but the simplicity of this machine, and its multiplied operations, struck me with an agreeable surprize. i had learnt from dr. johnson, during this interview, not to think with a dejected indifference of the works of art, and the pleasures of life, because life is uncertain and short; but to consider such indifference as a failure of reason, a morbidness of mind; for happiness should be cultivated as much as we can, and the objects which are instrumental to it should be steadily considered as of importance[ ], with a reference not only to ourselves, but to multitudes in successive ages. though it is proper to value small parts, as 'sands make the mountain, moments make the year[ ];' yet we must contemplate, collectively, to have a just estimation of objects. one moment's being uneasy or not, seems of no consequence; yet this may be thought of the next, and the next, and so on, till there is a large portion of misery. in the same way one must think of happiness, of learning, of friendship. we cannot tell the precise moment when friendship is formed. as in filling a vessel drop by drop, there is at last a drop which makes it run over; so in a series of kindnesses there is at last one which makes the heart run over. we must not divide objects of our attention into minute parts, and think separately of each part. it is by contemplating a large mass of human existence, that a man, while he sets a just value on his own life, does not think of his death as annihilating all that is great and pleasing in the world, as if actually _contained in his mind_, according to berkeley's reverie[ ]. if his imagination be not sickly and feeble, it 'wings its distant way[ ]' far beyond himself, and views the world in unceasing activity of every sort. it must be acknowledged, however, that pope's plaintive reflection, that all things would be as gay as ever, on the day of his death, is natural and common[ ]. we are apt to transfer to all around us our own gloom, without considering that at any given point of time there is, perhaps, as much youth and gaiety in the world as at another. before i came into this life, in which i have had so many pleasant scenes, have not thousands and ten thousands of deaths and funerals happened, and have not families been in grief for their nearest relations? but have those dismal circumstances at all affected _me_? why then should the gloomy scenes which i experience, or which i know, affect others? let us guard against imagining that there is an end of felicity upon earth, when we ourselves grow old, or are unhappy. dr. johnson told us at tea, that when some of dr. dodd's pious friends were trying to console him by saying that he was going to leave 'a wretched world,' he had honesty enough not to join in the cant[ ]:--'no, no (said he,) it has been a very agreeable world to me.' johnson added, 'i respect dodd for thus speaking the truth; for, to be sure, he had for several years enjoyed a life of great voluptuousness[ ].' he told us, that dodd's city friends stood by him so, that a thousand pounds were ready to be given to the gaoler, if he would let him escape. he added, that he knew a friend of dodd's, who walked about newgate for some time on the evening before the day of his execution, with five hundred pounds in his pocket, ready to be paid to any of the turnkeys who could get him out: but it was too late; for he was watched with much circumspection[ ]. he said, dodd's friends had an image of him made of wax, which was to have been left in his place; and he believed it was carried into the prison. johnson disapproved of dr. dodd's leaving the world persuaded that _the convict's address to his unhappy brethren_ was of his own writing[ ]. 'but, sir, (said i,) you contributed to the deception; for when mr. seward expressed a doubt to you that it was not dodd's own, because it had a great deal more force of mind in it than any thing known to be his, you answered,--"why should you think so? depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully."' johnson. 'sir, as dodd got it from me to pass as his own, while that could do him any good, there was an _implied promise_ that i should not own it. to own it, therefore, would have been telling a lie, with the addition of breach of promise, which was worse than simply telling a lie to make it be believed it was dodd's. besides, sir, i did not _directly_ tell a lie: i left the matter uncertain. perhaps i thought that seward would not believe it the less to be mine for what i said; but i would not put it in his power to say i had owned it.' he praised blair's sermons: 'yet,' said he, (willing to let us see he was aware that fashionable fame, however deserved, is not always the most lasting,) 'perhaps, they may not be re-printed after seven years; at least not after blair's death[ ].' he said, 'goldsmith was a plant that flowered late[ ]. there appeared nothing remarkable about him when he was young; though when he had got high in fame, one of his friends[ ] began to recollect something of his being distinguished at college. goldsmith in the same manner recollected more of that friend's early years, as he grew a greater man.' i mentioned that lord monboddo told me, he awaked every morning at four, and then for his health got up and walked in his room naked, with the window open, which he called taking _an air bath_[ ]; after which he went to bed again, and slept two hours more. johnson, who was always ready to beat down any thing that seemed to be exhibited with disproportionate importance, thus observed: 'i suppose, sir, there is no more in it than this, he awakes at four, and cannot sleep till he chills himself, and makes the warmth of the bed a grateful sensation.' i talked of the difficulty of rising in the morning. dr. johnson told me, 'that the learned mrs. carter, at that period when she was eager in study, did not awake as early as she wished, and she therefore had a contrivance, that, at a certain hour, her chamber-light should burn a string to which a heavy weight was suspended, which then fell with a strong sudden noise: this roused her from sleep, and then she had no difficulty in getting up.' but i said _that_ was my difficulty; and wished there could be some medicine invented which would make one rise without pain, which i never did, unless after lying in bed a very long time. perhaps there may be something in the stores of nature which could do this. i have thought of a pulley to raise me gradually; but that would give me pain, as it would counteract my internal inclination. i would have something that can dissipate the _vis inertiæ_, and give elasticity to the muscles. as i imagine that the human body may be put, by the operation of other substances, into any state in which it has ever been; and as i have experienced a state in which rising from bed was not disagreeable, but easy, nay, sometimes agreeable; i suppose that this state may be produced, if we knew by what. we can heat the body, we can cool it; we can give it tension or relaxation; and surely it is possible to bring it into a state in which rising from bed will not be a pain. johnson observed, that 'a man should take a sufficient quantity of sleep, which dr. mead says is between seven and nine hours.' i told him, that dr. cullen said to me, that a man should not take more sleep than he can take at once. johnson. 'this rule, sir, cannot hold in all cases; for many people have their sleep broken by sickness; and surely, cullen would not have a man to get up, after having slept but an hour. such a regimen would soon end in a _long sleep_[ ].' dr. taylor remarked, i think very justly, that 'a man who does not feel an inclination to sleep at the ordinary time, instead of being stronger than other people, must not be well; for a man in health has all the natural inclinations to eat, drink, and sleep, in a strong degree.' johnson advised me to-night not to _refine_ in the education of my children. 'life (said he) will not bear refinement: you must do as other people do[ ].' as we drove back to ashbourne, dr. johnson recommended to me, as he had often done, to drink water only: 'for (said he) you are then sure not to get drunk; whereas if you drink wine you are never sure.' i said, drinking wine was a pleasure which i was unwilling to give up. 'why, sir, (said he,) there is no doubt that not to drink wine is a great deduction from life; but it may be necessary.' he however owned, that in his opinion a free use of wine did not shorten life[ ]; and said, he would not give less for the life of a certain scotch lord[ ] (whom he named) celebrated for hard drinking, than for that of a sober man. 'but stay, (said he, with his usual intelligence, and accuracy of enquiry,) does it take much wine to make him drunk?' i answered, 'a great deal either of wine or strong punch.'--'then (said he) that is the worse.' i presume to illustrate my friend's observation thus: 'a fortress which soon surrenders has its walls less shattered than when a long and obstinate resistance is made.' i ventured to mention a person who was as violent a scotsman as he was an englishman; and literally had the same contempt for an englishman compared with a scotsman, that he had for a scotsman compared with an englishman; and that he would say of dr. johnson, 'damned rascal! to talk as he does, of the scotch.' this seemed, for a moment, 'to give him pause[ ].' it, perhaps, presented his extreme prejudice against the scotch in a point of view somewhat new to him, by the effect of _contrast_. by the time when we returned to ashbourne, dr. taylor was gone to bed. johnson and i sat up a long time by ourselves. he was much diverted with an article which i shewed him in the _critical review_ of this year, giving an account of a curious publication, entitled, _a spiritual diary and soliloquies_, by john rutty, m.d. dr. rutty was one of the people called quakers, a physician of some eminence in dublin, and authour of several works[ ]. this diary, which was kept from to , the year in which he died, and was now published in two volumes octavo, exhibited, in the simplicity of his heart, a minute and honest register of the state of his mind; which, though frequently laughable enough, was not more so than the history of many men would be, if recorded with equal fairness. the following specimens were extracted by the reviewers:-- 'tenth month, . . indulgence in bed an hour too long. twelfth month, . an hypochondriack obnubilation from wind and indigestion. ninth month, . an over-dose of whisky. . a dull, cross, cholerick day. first month, -- . a little swinish at dinner and repast. . dogged on provocation. second month, . very dogged or snappish. . snappish on fasting. . cursed snappishness to those under me, on a bodily indisposition. third month, . on a provocation, exercised a dumb resentment for two days, instead of scolding. . scolded too vehemently. . dogged again. fourth month, . mechanically and sinfully dogged.' johnson laughed heartily at this good quietist's self-condemning minutes; particularly at his mentioning, with such a serious regret, occasional instances of '_swinishness_ in eating, and _doggedness of temper_[ ].' he thought the observations of the critical reviewers upon the importance of a man to himself so ingenious and so well expressed, that i shall here introduce them. after observing, that 'there are few writers who have gained any reputation by recording their own actions,' they say:-- 'we may reduce the egotists to four classes. in the _first_ we have julius caesar: he relates his own transactions; but he relates them with peculiar grace and dignity, and his narrative is supported by the greatness of his character and atchievements. in the _second_ class we have marcus antoninus: this writer has given us a series of reflections on his own life; but his sentiments are so noble, his morality so sublime, that his meditations are universally admired. in the _third_ class we have some others of tolerable credit, who have given importance to their own private history by an intermixture of literary anecdotes, and the occurrences of their own times: the celebrated _huetius_ has published an entertaining volume upon this plan, "_de rebus ad eum pertinentibus_[ ]." in the _fourth_ class we have the journalists, temporal and spiritual: elias ashmole, william lilly, george whitefield, john wesley, and a thousand other old women and fanatick writers of memoirs and meditations.' i mentioned to him that dr. hugh blair, in his lectures on rhetorick and belles lettres, which i heard him deliver at edinburgh, had animadverted on the johnsonian style as too pompous; and attempted to imitate it, by giving a sentence of addison in _the spectator_, no. , in the manner of johnson. when treating of the utility of the pleasures of imagination in preserving us from vice, it is observed of those 'who know not how to be idle and innocent,' that 'their very first step out of business is into vice or folly;' which dr. blair supposed would have been expressed in _the rambler_ thus: 'their very first step out of the regions of business is into the perturbation of vice, or the vacuity of folly[ ].' johnson. 'sir, these are not the words i should have used. no, sir; the imitators of my style have not hit it. miss aikin has done it the best; for she has imitated the sentiment as well as the diction[ ].' i intend, before this work is concluded[ ], to exhibit specimens of imitation of my friend's style in various modes; some caricaturing or mimicking it, and some formed upon it, whether intentionally or with a degree of similarity to it, of which, perhaps, the writers were not conscious. in baretti's review, which he published in italy, under the title of _frusta letteraria_[ ], it is observed, that dr. robertson the historian had formed his style upon that of _il celebre samuele johnson_. my friend himself was of that opinion; for he once said to me, in a pleasant humour, 'sir, if robertson's style be faulty, he owes it to me; that is, having too many words, and those too big ones[ ].' i read to him a letter which lord monboddo had written to me, containing some critical remarks upon the style of his _journey to the western islands of scotland_. his lordship praised the very fine passage upon landing at icolmkill[ ]; but his own style being exceedingly dry and hard, he disapproved of the richness of johnson's language, and of his frequent use of metaphorical expressions. johnson. 'why, sir, this criticism would be just, if in my style, superfluous words, or words too big for the thoughts, could be pointed out[ ]; but this i do not believe can be done. for instance; in the passage which lord monboddo admires, 'we were now treading that illustrious region[ ],' the word _illustrious_, contributes nothing to the mere narration; for the fact might be told without it: but it is not, therefore, superfluous; for it wakes the mind to peculiar attention, where something of more than usual importance is to be presented. "illustrious!"--for what? and then the sentence proceeds to expand the circumstances connected with iona. and, sir, as to metaphorical expression, that is a great excellence in style, when it is used with propriety, for it gives you two ideas for one;--conveys the meaning more luminously, and generally with a perception of delight.' he told me, that he had been asked to undertake the new edition of the _biographia britannica_, but had declined it; which he afterwards said to me he regretted[ ]. in this regret many will join, because it would have procured us more of johnson's most delightful species of writing; and although my friend dr. kippis has hitherto discharged the task judiciously, distinctly, and with more impartiality than might have been expected from a separatist, it were to have been wished that the superintendence of this literary temple of fame had been assigned to 'a friend to the constitution in church and state.' we should not then have had it too much crowded with obscure dissenting teachers, doubtless men of merit and worth, but not quite to be numbered amongst 'the most eminent persons who have flourished in great-britain and ireland[ ].' on saturday, september , after breakfast, when taylor was gone out to his farm, dr. johnson and i had a serious conversation by ourselves on melancholy and madness; which he was, i always thought, erroneously inclined to confound together[ ]. melancholy, like 'great wit,' may be 'near allied to madness[ ];' but there is, in my opinion, a distinct separation between them. when he talked of madness, he was to be understood as speaking of those who were in any great degree disturbed, or as it is commonly expressed, 'troubled in mind.' some of the ancient philosophers held, that all deviations from right reason were madness; and whoever wishes to see the opinions both of ancients and moderns upon this subject, collected and illustrated with a variety of curious facts, may read dr. arnold's very entertaining work[ ]. johnson said, 'a madman loves to be with people whom he fears; not as a dog fears the lash; but of whom he stands in awe.' i was struck with the justice of this observation. to be with those of whom a person, whose mind is wavering and dejected, stands in awe, represses and composes an uneasy tumult of spirits, and consoles him with the contemplation of something steady, and at least comparatively great. he added, 'madmen are all sensual in the lower stages of the distemper. they are eager for gratifications to sooth their minds, and divert their attention from the misery which they suffer: but when they grow very ill, pleasure is too weak for them, and they seek for pain[ ]. employment, sir, and hardships, prevent melancholy. i suppose in all our army in america there was not one man who went mad[ ].' we entered seriously upon a question of much importance to me, which johnson was pleased to consider with friendly attention. i had long complained to him that i felt myself discontented in scotland, as too narrow a sphere, and that i wished to make my chief residence in london, the great scene of ambition, instruction, and amusement: a scene, which was to me, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, i never knew any one who had such a _gust_ for london as you have: and i cannot blame you for your wish to live there: yet, sir, were i in your father's place, i should not consent to your settling there; for i have the old feudal notions, and i should be afraid that auchinleck would be deserted, as you would soon find it more desirable to have a country-seat in a better climate. i own, however, that to consider it as a _duty_ to reside on a family estate is a prejudice; for we must consider, that working-people get employment equally, and the produce of land is sold equally, whether a great family resides at home or not; and if the rents of an estate be carried to london, they return again in the circulation of commerce; nay, sir, we must perhaps allow, that carrying the rents to a distance is a good, because it contributes to that circulation. we must, however, allow, that a well-regulated great family may improve a neighbourhood in civility and elegance, and give an example of good order, virtue, and piety; and so its residence at home may be of much advantage. but if a great family be disorderly and vicious, its residence at home is very pernicious to a neighbourhood. there is not now the same inducement to live in the country as formerly; the pleasures of social life are much better enjoyed in town; and there is no longer in the country that power and influence in proprietors of land which they had in old times, and which made the country so agreeable to them. the laird of auchinleck now is not near so great a man as the laird of auchinleck was a hundred years ago[ ]. i told him, that one of my ancestors never went from home without being attended by thirty men on horseback. johnson's shrewdness and spirit of enquiry were exerted upon every occasion. 'pray (said he,) how did your ancestor support his thirty men and thirty horses, when he went at a distance from home, in an age when there was hardly any money in circulation?' i suggested the same difficulty to a friend, who mentioned douglas's going to the holy land with a numerous train of followers. douglas could, no doubt, maintain followers enough while living upon his own lands, the produce of which supplied them with food; but he could not carry that food to the holy land; and as there was no commerce by which he could be supplied with money, how could he maintain them in foreign countries? i suggested a doubt, that if i were to reside in london, the exquisite zest with which i relished it in occasional visits might go off, and i might grow tired of it. johnson. 'why, sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave london. no, sir, when a man is tired of london, he is tired of life; for there is in london all that life can afford[ ].' to obviate his apprehension, that by settling in london i might desert the seat of my ancestors, i assured him, that i had old feudal principles to a degree of enthusiasm; and that i felt all the _dulcedo_ of the _natale solum_[ ]. i reminded him, that the laird of auchinleck had an elegant house, in front of which he could ride ten miles forward upon his own territories, upon which he had upwards of six hundred people attached to him; that the family seat was rich in natural romantick beauties of rock, wood, and water; and that in my 'morn of life[ ],' i had appropriated the finest descriptions in the ancient classicks to certain scenes there, which were thus associated in my mind. that when all this was considered, i should certainly pass a part of the year at home, and enjoy it the more from variety, and from bringing with me a share of the intellectual stores of the metropolis. he listened to all this, and kindly 'hoped it might be as i now supposed.' he said, 'a country gentleman should bring his lady to visit london as soon as he can, that they may have agreeable topicks for conversation when they are by themselves.' as i meditated trying my fortune in westminster hall, our conversation turned upon the profession of the law in england. johnson. 'you must not indulge too sanguine hopes, should you be called to our bar. i was told, by a very sensible lawyer, that there are a great many chances against any man's success in the profession of the law; the candidates are so numerous, and those who get large practice so few. he said, it was by no means true that a man of good parts and application is sure of having business, though he, indeed, allowed that if such a man could but appear in a few causes, his merit would be known, and he would get forward; but that the great risk was, that a man might pass half a life-time in the courts, and never have an opportunity of shewing his abilities[ ].' we talked of employment being absolutely necessary to preserve the mind from wearying and growing fretful, especially in those who have a tendency to melancholy; and i mentioned to him a saying which somebody had related of an american savage, who, when an european was expatiating on all the advantages of money, put this question: 'will it purchase _occupation_?' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this saying is too refined for a savage. and, sir, money _will_ purchase occupation; it will purchase all the conveniences of life; it will purchase variety of company; it will purchase all sorts of entertainment.' i talked to him of forster's _voyage to the south seas_, which pleased me; but i found he did not like it. 'sir, (said he,) there is a great affectation of fine writing in it.' boswell. 'but he carries you along with him.' johnson, 'no, sir; he does not carry _me_ along with him: he leaves me behind him: or rather, indeed, he sets me before him; for he makes me turn over many leaves at a time.' on sunday, september [ ], we went to the church of ashbourne, which is one of the largest and most luminous that i have seen in any town of the same size. i felt great satisfaction in considering that i was supported in my fondness for solemn publick worship by the general concurrence and munificence of mankind. johnson and taylor were so different from each other, that i wondered at their preserving an intimacy[ ]. their having been at school and college together, might, in some degree, account for this[ ]; but sir joshua reynolds has furnished me with a stronger reason; for johnson mentioned to him, that he had been told by taylor he was to be his heir. i shall not take upon me to animadvert upon this; but certain it is, that johnson paid great attention to taylor. he now, however, said to me, 'sir, i love him; but i do not love him more; my regard for him does not increase. as it is said in the apocrypha, "his talk is of bullocks[ ]:" i do not suppose he is very fond of my company.[ ] his habits are by no means sufficiently clerical: this he knows that i see; and no man likes to live under the eye of perpetual disapprobation.' i have no doubt that a good many sermons were composed for taylor by johnson. at this time i found, upon his table, a part of one which he had newly begun to write: and _concio pro tayloro_ appears in one of his diaries. when to these circumstances we add the internal evidence from the power of thinking and style, in the collection which the reverend mr. hayes has published, with the _significant_ title of sermons _left for publication_ by the reverend john taylor, ll.d., our conviction will be complete[ ]. i, however, would not have it thought, that dr. taylor, though he could not write like johnson, (as, indeed, who could?) did not sometimes compose sermons as good as those which we generally have from very respectable divines. he showed me one with notes on the margin in johnson's hand-writing; and i was present when he read another to johnson, that he might have his opinion of it, and johnson said it was 'very well.' these, we may be sure, were not johnson's; for he was above little arts, or tricks of deception. johnson was by no means of opinion, that every man of a learned profession should consider it as incumbent upon him, or as necessary to his credit, to appear as an authour. when in the ardour of ambition for literary fame, i regretted to him one day that an eminent judge had nothing of it, and therefore would leave no perpetual monument of himself to posterity[ ]. 'alas, sir, (said johnson) what a mass of confusion should we have, if every bishop, and every judge, every lawyer, physician, and divine, were to write books.' i mentioned to johnson a respectable person of a very strong mind, who had little of that tenderness which is common to human nature; as an instance of which, when i suggested to him that he should invite his son, who had been settled ten years in foreign parts[ ], to come home and pay him a visit, his answer was, 'no, no, let him mind his business.' johnson. 'i do not agree with him, sir, in this. getting money is not all a man's business: to cultivate kindness is a valuable part of the business of life.' in the evening, johnson, being in very good spirits, entertained us with several characteristical portraits. i regret that any of them escaped my retention and diligence. i found, from experience, that to collect my friend's conversation so as to exhibit it with any degree of its original flavour, it was necessary to write it down without delay. to record his sayings, after some distance of time, was like preserving or pickling long-kept and faded fruits, or other vegetables, which, when in that state, have little or nothing of their taste when fresh. i shall present my readers with a series of what i gathered this evening from the johnsonian garden. 'my friend, the late earl of corke, had a great desire to maintain the literary character of his family[ ]: he was a genteel man, but did not keep up the dignity of his rank. he was so generally civil, that nobody thanked him for it.' 'did we not hear so much said of jack wilkes, we should think more highly of his conversation. jack has great variety of talk, jack is a scholar, and jack has the manners of a gentleman[ ]. but after hearing his name sounded from pole to pole, as the phoenix of convivial felicity, we are disappointed in his company. he has always been _at me_: but i would do jack a kindness, rather than not. the contest is now over[ ].' 'garrick's gaiety of conversation has delicacy and elegance: foote makes you laugh more; but foote has the air of a buffoon paid for entertaining the company. he, indeed, well deserves his hire[ ].' 'colley cibber once consulted me as to one of his birth-day odes,[ ] a long time before it was wanted. i objected very freely to several passages. cibber lost patience, and would not read his ode to an end. when we had done with criticism, we walked over to richardson's, the authour of _clarissa_, and i wondered to find richardson displeased that i "did not treat gibber with more _respect_." now, sir, to talk of _respect for a player_!' (smiling disdainfully). boswell. 'there, sir, you are always heretical: you never will allow merit to a player[ ].' johnson. 'merit, sir! what merit? do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?' boswell. 'no, sir: but we respect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty sentiments, and can express them gracefully.' johnson. 'what, sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries "_i am richard the third_[ ]"? nay, sir, a ballad-singer is a higher man, for he does two things; he repeats and he sings: there is both recitation and musick in his performance: the player only recites.' boswell. 'my dear sir! you may turn anything into ridicule. i allow, that a player of farce is not entitled to respect; he does a little thing: but he who can represent exalted characters, and touch the noblest passions, has very respectable powers; and mankind have agreed in admiring great talents for the stage. we must consider, too, that a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very rare faculty. _who_ can repeat hamlet's soliloquy, "to be, or not to be," as garrick does it?' johnson. 'any body may. jemmy, there (a boy about eight years old, who was in the room), will do it as well in a week[ ].' boswell. 'no, no, sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting, and of the value which mankind set upon it, garrick has got a hundred thousand pounds.' johnson. 'is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof of excellence? that has been done by a scoundrel commissary[ ].' this was most fallacious reasoning. i was sure, for once, that i had the best side of the argument. i boldly maintained the just distinction between a tragedian and a mere theatrical droll; between those who rouse our terrour and pity, and those who only make us laugh. 'if (said i) betterton and foote were to walk into this room, you would respect betterton much more than foote.' johnson. 'if betterton were to walk into this room with foote, foote would soon drive him out of it. foote, sir, _quatenùs_ foote, has powers superiour to them all[ ].' on monday, september , when at breakfast, i unguardedly said to dr. johnson, 'i wish i saw you and mrs. macaulay[ ] together.' he grew very angry; and, after a pause, while a cloud gathered on his brow, he burst out, 'no, sir; you would not see us quarrel, to make you sport. don't you know that it is very uncivil to _pit_[ ] two people against one another?' then, checking himself, and wishing to be more gentle, he added, 'i do not say you should be hanged or drowned for this; but it _is_ very uncivil.' dr. taylor thought him in the wrong, and spoke to him privately of it; but i afterwards acknowledged to johnson that i was to blame, for i candidly owned, that i meant to express a desire to see a contest between mrs. macaulay and him; but then i knew how the contest would end; so that i was to see him triumph. johnson. 'sir, you cannot be sure how a contest will end; and no man has a right to engage two people in a dispute by which their passions may be inflamed, and they may part with bitter resentment against each other. i would sooner keep company with a man from whom i must guard my pockets, than with a man who contrives to bring me into a dispute with somebody that he may hear it. this is the great fault of ----[ ], (naming one of our friends) endeavouring to introduce a subject upon which he knows two people in the company differ.' boswell. 'but he told me, sir, he does it for instruction.' johnson. 'whatever the motive be, sir, the man who does so, does very wrong. he has no more right to instruct himself at such risk, than he has to make two people fight a duel, that he may learn how to defend himself.' he found great fault with a gentleman of our acquaintance for keeping a bad table[ ]. 'sir, (said he,) when a man is invited to dinner, he is disappointed if he does not get something good. i advised mrs. thrale, who has no card-parties at her house, to give sweet-meats, and such good things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and she would find company enough come to her; for every body loves to have things which please the palate put in their way, without trouble or preparation[ ].' such was his attention to the _minutiae_ of life and manners. he thus characterised the duke of devonshire[ ], grandfather of the present representative of that very respectable family: 'he was not a man of superiour abilities, but he was a man strictly faithful to his word. if, for instance, he had promised you an acorn, and none had grown that year in his woods, he would not have contented himself with that excuse; he would have sent to denmark for it. so unconditional was he in keeping his word; so high as to the point of honour.' this was a liberal testimony from the tory johnson to the virtue of a great whig nobleman. mr. burke's _letter to the sheriffs of bristol, on the affairs of america_, being mentioned, johnson censured the composition much[ ], and he ridiculed the definition of a free government, _viz_. 'for any practical purpose, it is what the people think so[ ].'--'i will let the king of france govern me on those conditions, (said he,) for it is to be governed just as i please.' and when dr. taylor talked of a girl being sent to a parish workhouse, and asked how much she could be obliged to work, 'why, (said johnson,) as much as is reasonable: and what is that? as much as _she thinks_ reasonable.' dr. johnson obligingly proposed to carry me to see islam, a romantick scene, now belonging to a family of the name of port, but formerly the seat of the congreves[ ]. i suppose it is well described in some of the tours. johnson described it distinctly and vividly, at which i could not but express to him my wonder; because, though my eyes, as he observed, were better than his, i could not by any means equal him in representing visible objects. i said, the difference between us in this respect was as that between a man who has a bad instrument, but plays well on it, and a man who has a good instrument, on which he can play very imperfectly[ ]. i recollect a very fine amphitheatre, surrounded with hills covered with woods, and walks neatly formed along the side of a rocky steep, on the quarter next the house, with recesses under projections of rock, overshadowed with trees; in one of which recesses, we were told, congreve wrote his _old bachelor_[ ]. we viewed a remarkable natural curiosity at islam; two rivers bursting near each other from the rock, not from immediate springs, but after having run for many miles under ground. plott, in his _history of staffordshire_[ ], gives an account of this curiosity; but johnson would not believe it, though we had the attestation of the gardener, who said, he had put in corks, where the river _manyfold_ sinks into the ground, and had catched them in a net, placed before one of the openings where the water bursts out. indeed, such subterraneous courses of water are found in various parts of our globe[ ]. talking of dr. johnson's unwillingness to believe extraordinary things[ ], i ventured to say, 'sir, you come near hume's argument against miracles, "that it is more probable witnesses should lie, or be mistaken, than that they should happen[ ]."' johnson. 'why, sir, hume, taking the proposition simply, is right. but the christian revelation is not proved by the miracles alone, but as connected with prophecies, and with the doctrines in confirmation of which the miracles were wrought.' he repeated his observation, that the differences among christians are really of no consequence[ ]. 'for instance, (said he,) if a protestant objects to a papist, "you worship images;" the papist can answer, "i do not insist on _your_ doing it; you may be a very good papist without it: i do it only as a help to my devotion."' i said, the great article of christianity is the revelation of immortality. johnson admitted it was. in the evening, a gentleman-farmer, who was on a visit at dr. taylor's, attempted to dispute with johnson in favour of mungo campbell, who shot alexander, earl of eglintoune[ ] upon his having fallen, when retreating from his lordship, who he believed was about to seize his gun, as he had threatened to do. he said, he should have done just as campbell did. johnson. 'whoever would do as campbell did, deserves to be hanged; not that i could, as a juryman, have found him legally guilty of murder; but i am glad they found means to convict him.' the gentleman-farmer said, 'a poor man has as much honour as a rich man; and campbell had _that_ to defend.' johnson exclaimed, 'a poor man has no honour.' the english yeoman, not dismayed, proceeded: 'lord eglintoune was a damned fool to run on upon campbell, after being warned that campbell would shoot him if he did.' johnson, who could not bear any thing like swearing[ ], angrily replied, 'he was _not_ a _damned_ fool: he only thought too well of campbell. he did not believe campbell would be such a _damned_ scoundrel, as to do so _damned_ a thing.' his emphasis on _damned_, accompanied with frowning looks, reproved his opponent's want of decorum in _his_ presence. talking of the danger of being mortified by rejection, when making approaches to the acquaintance of the great, i observed: 'i am, however, generally for trying, "nothing venture, nothing have."'[ ] johnson. 'very true, sir; but i have always been more afraid of failing, than hopeful of success.' and, indeed, though he had all just respect for rank, no man ever less courted the favour of the great. during this interview at ashbourne, johnson seemed to be more uniformly social, cheerful, and alert, than i had almost ever seen him. he was prompt on great occasions and on small. taylor, who praised every thing of his own to excess; in short, 'whose geese were all swans,' as the proverb says, expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, which, he told us, was 'perfectly well shaped.' johnson, after examining the animal attentively, thus repressed the vain-glory of our host:--'no, sir, he is _not_ well shaped; for there is not the quick transition from the thickness of the fore-part, to the _tenuity_--the thin part-- behind,--which a bull-dog ought to have.' this _tenuity_ was the only _hard word_ that i heard him use during this interview, and it will be observed, he instantly put another expression in its place. taylor said, a small bull-dog was as good as a large one. johnson, 'no, sir; for, in proportion to his size, he has strength: and your argument would prove, that a good bull-dog may be as small as a mouse.' it was amazing how he entered with perspicuity and keenness upon every thing that occurred in conversation. most men, whom i know, would no more think of discussing a question about a bull-dog, than of attacking a bull. i cannot allow any fragment whatever that floats in my memory concerning the great subject of this work to be lost. though a small particular may appear trifling to some, it will be relished by others; while every little spark adds something to the general blaze: and to please the true, candid, warm admirers of johnson, and in any degree increase the splendour of his reputation, i bid defiance to the shafts of ridicule, or even of malignity. showers of them have been discharged at my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_; yet it still sails unhurt along the stream of time, and, as an attendant upon johnson, 'pursues the triumph, and partakes the gale[ ].' one morning after breakfast, when the sun shone bright, we walked out together, and 'pored[ ]' for some time with placid indolence upon an artificial water-fall, which dr. taylor had made by building a strong dyke of stone across the river behind the garden[ ]. it was now somewhat obstructed by branches of trees and other rubbish, which had come down the river, and settled close to it. johnson, partly from a desire to see it play more freely, and partly from that inclination to activity which will animate, at times, the most inert and sluggish mortal, took a long pole which was lying on a bank, and pushed down several parcels of this wreck with painful assiduity, while i stood quietly by, wondering to behold the sage thus curiously employed, and smiling with an humorous satisfaction each time when he carried his point. he worked till he was quite out of breath; and having found a large dead cat so heavy that he could not move it after several efforts, 'come,' said he, (throwing down the pole,) '_you_ shall take it now;' which i accordingly did, and being a fresh man, soon made the cat tumble over the cascade. this may be laughed at as too trifling to record; but it is a small characteristick trait in the flemish picture which i give of my friend, and in which, therefore, i mark the most minute particulars. and let it be remembered, that _Ã�sop at play_ is one of the instructive apologues of antiquity. i mentioned an old gentleman of our acquaintance whose memory was beginning to fail. johnson. 'there must be a diseased mind, where there is a failure of memory at seventy. a man's head, sir, must be morbid, if he fails so soon.'[ ] my friend, being now himself sixty-eight, might think thus: but i imagine, that _threescore and ten_, the psalmist's period of sound human life in later ages, may have a failure, though there be no disease in the constitution. talking of rochester's poems, he said, he had given them to mr. steevens to castrate for the edition of the poets, to which he was to write prefaces. dr. taylor (the only time i ever heard him say any thing witty)[ ] observed, that 'if rochester had been castrated himself, his exceptionable poems would not have been written.'[ ] i asked if burnet had not given a good life of rochester. johnson. 'we have a good _death_: there is not much _life_[ ].' i asked whether prior's poems were to be printed entire: johnson said they were. i mentioned lord hailes's censure of prior, in his preface to a collection of _sacred poems_, by various hands, published by him at edinburgh a great many years ago, where he mentions, 'those impure tales which will be the eternal opprobrium of their ingenious authour.' johnson. 'sir, lord hailes has forgot. there is nothing in prior that will excite to lewdness. if lord hailes thinks there is, he must be more combustible than other people[ ].' i instanced the tale of _paulo purganti and his wife_. johnson. 'sir, there is nothing there, but that his wife wanted to be kissed when poor paulo was out of pocket. no, sir, prior is a lady's book. no lady is ashamed to have it standing in her library.' the hypochondriack disorder being mentioned, dr. johnson did not think it so common as i supposed. 'dr. taylor (said he) is the same one day as another. burke and reynolds are the same; beauclerk, except when in pain, is the same. i am not so myself; but this i do not mention commonly[ ].' i complained of a wretched changefulness, so that i could not preserve, for any long continuance, the same views of any thing. it was most comfortable to me to experience, in dr. johnson's company, a relief from this uneasiness. his steady vigorous mind held firm before me those objects which my own feeble and tremulous imagination frequently presented, in such a wavering state, that my reason could not judge well of them. dr. johnson advised me to-day, to have as many books about me as i could; that i might read upon any subject upon which i had a desire for instruction at the time. 'what you read _then_ (said he) you will remember; but if you have not a book immediately ready, and the subject moulds in your mind, it is a chance if you again have a desire to study it.' he added, 'if a man never has an eager desire for instruction, he should prescribe a task for himself. but it is better when a man reads from immediate inclination[ ].' he repeated a good many lines of horace's _odes_, while we were in the chaise. i remember particularly the ode _eheu fugaces_[ ]. he said, the dispute as to the comparative excellence of homer or virgil[ ] was inaccurate. 'we must consider (said he) whether homer was not the greatest poet, though virgil may have produced the finest poem. virgil was indebted to homer for the whole invention of the structure of an epick poem, and for many of his beauties.' he told me that bacon was a favourite authour with him[ ]; but he had never read his works till he was compiling the _english dictionary_, in which, he said, i might see bacon very often quoted. mr. seward recollects his having mentioned, that a dictionary of the english language might be compiled from bacon's writings alone[ ], and that he had once an intention of giving an edition of bacon, at least of his english works, and writing the life of that great man. had he executed this intention, there can be no doubt that he would have done it in a most masterly manner. mallet's _life of bacon_ has no inconsiderable merit as an acute and elegant dissertation relative to its subject; but mallet's mind was not comprehensive enough to embrace the vast extent of lord verulam's genius and research. dr. warburton therefore observed, with witty justness, 'that mallet, in his _life of bacon_, had forgotten that he was a philosopher; and if he should write the life of the duke of marlborough, which he had undertaken to do, he would probably forget that he was a general[ ].' wishing to be satisfied what degree of truth there was in a story which a friend of johnson's and mine had told me to his disadvantage, i mentioned it to him in direct terms; and it was to this effect: that a gentleman[ ] who had lived in great intimacy with him, shewn him much kindness, and even relieved him from a spunging-house, having afterwards fallen into bad circumstances, was one day, when johnson was at dinner with him, seized for debt, and carried to prison; that johnson sat still undisturbed, and went on eating and drinking; upon which the gentleman's sister, who was present, could not suppress her indignation: 'what, sir, (said she,) are you so unfeeling, as not even to offer to go to my brother in his distress; you who have been so much obliged to him?' and that johnson answered, 'madam, i owe him no obligation; what he did for me he would have done for a dog.' johnson assured me, that the story was absolutely false: but like a man conscious of being in the right, and desirous of completely vindicating himself from such a charge, he did not arrogantly rest on a mere denial, and on his general character, but proceeded thus:--'sir, i was very intimate with that gentleman, and was once relieved by him from an arrest; but i never was present when he was arrested, never knew that he was arrested, and i believe he never was in difficulties after the time when he relieved me. i loved him much; yet, in talking of his general character, i may have said, though i do not remember that i ever did say so, that as his generosity proceeded from no principle, but was a part of his profusion, he would do for a dog what he would do for a friend: but i never applied this remark to any particular instance, and certainly not to his kindness to me. if a profuse man, who does not value his money, and gives a large sum to a whore, gives half as much, or an equally large sum to relieve a friend, it cannot be esteemed as virtue. this was all that i could say of that gentleman; and, if said at all, it must have been said after his death. sir, i would have gone to the world's end to relieve him. the remark about the dog, if made by me, was such a sally as might escape one when painting a man highly.' on tuesday, september , johnson was remarkably cordial to me. it being necessary for me to return to scotland soon, i had fixed on the next day for my setting out, and i felt a tender concern at the thought of parting with him. he had, at this time, frankly communicated to me many particulars, which are inserted in this work in their proper places; and once, when i happened to mention that the expence of my jaunt would come to much more than i had computed, he said, 'why, sir, if the expence were to be an inconvenience, you would have reason to regret it: but, if you have had the money to spend, i know not that you could have purchased as much pleasure with it in any other way.' during this interview at ashbourne, johnson and i frequently talked with wonderful pleasure of mere trifles which had occurred in our tour to the hebrides; for it had left a most agreeable and lasting impression upon his mind. he found fault with me for using the phrase to _make_ money. 'don't you see (said he) the impropriety of it? to _make_ money is to _coin_ it: you should say _get_ money.' the phrase, however, is, i think, pretty current[ ]. but johnson was at all times jealous of infractions upon the genuine english language, and prompt to repress colloquial barbarisms; such as, _pledging myself_, for _undertaking_; _line_, for _department_, or _branch_, as, the _civil line_, the _banking line_. he was particularly indignant against the almost universal use of the word _idea_ in the sense of _notion_ or _opinion_, when it is clear that _idea_ can only signify something of which an image can be formed in the mind[ ]. we may have an _idea_ or _image_ of a mountain, a tree, a building; but we cannot surely have an _idea_ or _image_ of an _argument_ or _proposition_. yet we hear the sages of the law 'delivering their _ideas_ upon the question under consideration;' and the first speakers in parliament 'entirely coinciding in the _idea_ which has been ably stated by an honourable member;'--or 'reprobating an _idea_ unconstitutional, and fraught with the most dangerous consequences to a great and free country.' johnson called this 'modern cant[ ].' i perceived that he pronounced the word _heard_, as if spelt with a double _e, heerd_, instead of sounding it _herd_, as is most usually done. he said, his reason was, that if it was pronounced _herd_, there would be a single exception from the english pronunciation of the syllable _ear_, and he thought it better not to have that exception. he praised grainger's _ode on solitude_, in dodsley's _collection_, and repeated, with great energy, the exordium:-- 'o solitude, romantick maid, whether by nodding towers you tread; or haunt the desart's trackless gloom, or hover o'er the yawning tomb; or climb the andes' clifted side, or by the nile's coy source abide; or, starting from your half-year's sleep, from hecla view the thawing deep; or, at the purple dawn of day, tadnor's marble waste survey[ ]'; observing, 'this, sir, is very noble.' in the evening our gentleman-farmer, and two others, entertained themselves and the company with a great number of tunes on the fiddle. johnson desired to have 'let ambition fire thy mind[ ],' played over again, and appeared to give a patient attention to it; though he owned to me that he was very insensible to the power of musick[ ]. i told him, that it affected me to such a degree, as often to agitate my nerves painfully, producing in my mind alternate sensations of pathetick dejection, so that i was ready to shed tears; and of daring resolution, so that i was inclined to rush into the thickest part of the battle. 'sir, (said he,) i should never hear it, if it made me such a fool.' much of the effect of musick, i am satisfied, is owing to the association of ideas. that air, which instantly and irresistibly excites in the swiss, when in a foreign land, the _maladie du pais_, has, i am told, no intrinsick power of sound. and i know from my own experience, that scotch reels, though brisk, make me melancholy, because i used to hear them in my early years, at a time when mr. pitt called for soldiers 'from the mountains of the north,' and numbers of brave highlanders were going abroad, never to return[ ]. whereas the airs in _the beggar's opera_, many of which are very soft, never fail to render me gay, because they are associated with the warm sensations and high spirits of london. this evening, while some of the tunes of ordinary composition were played with no great skill, my frame was agitated, and i was conscious of a generous attachment to dr. johnson, as my preceptor and friend, mixed with an affectionate regret that he was an old man, whom i should probably lose in a short time. i thought i could defend him at the point of my sword. my reverence and affection for him were in full glow. i said to him, 'my dear sir, we must meet every year, if you don't quarrel with me.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you are more likely to quarrel with me, than i with you. my regard for you is greater almost than i have words to express; but i do not choose to be always repeating it; write it down in the first leaf of your pocket-book, and never doubt of it again.' i talked to him of misery being 'the doom of man' in this life, as displayed in his _vanity of human wishes_[ ]'. yet i observed that things were done upon the supposition of happiness; grand houses were built, fine gardens were made, splendid places of publick amusement were contrived, and crowded with company. johnson. 'alas, sir, these are all only struggles for happiness. when i first entered ranelagh[ ], it gave an expansion and gay sensation to my mind, such as i never experienced any where else. but, as xerxes wept when he viewed his immense army, and considered that not one of that great multitude would be alive a hundred years afterwards, so it went to my heart to consider that there was not one in all that brilliant circle, that was not afraid to go home and think; but that the thoughts of each individual there, would be distressing when alone.' this reflection was experimentally just. the feeling of languor[ ], which succeeds the animation of gaiety, is itself a very severe pain; and when the mind is then vacant, a thousand disappointments and vexations rush in and excruciate. will not many even of my fairest readers allow this to be true? i suggested, that being in love, and flattered with hopes of success; or having some favourite scheme in view for the next day, might prevent that wretchedness of which we had been talking. johnson. 'why, sir, it may sometimes be so as you suppose; but my conclusion is in general but too true.' while johnson and i stood in calm conference by ourselves in dr. taylor's garden, at a pretty late hour in a serene autumn night, looking up to the heavens, i directed the discourse to the subject of a future state. my friend was in a placid and most benignant frame. 'sir, (said he,) i do not imagine that all things will be made clear to us immediately after death, but that the ways of providence will be explained to us very gradually.' i ventured to ask him whether, although the words of some texts of scripture seemed strong in support of the dreadful doctrine of an eternity of punishment, we might not hope that the denunciation was figurative, and would not literally be executed. johnson. 'sir, you are to consider the intention of punishment in a future state. we have no reason to be sure that we shall then be no longer liable to offend against god. we do not know that even the angels are quite in a state of security; nay we know that some of them have fallen. it may, therefore, perhaps be necessary, in order to preserve both men and angels in a state of rectitude, that they should have continually before them the punishment of those who have deviated from it; but we may hope that by some other means a fall from rectitude may be prevented. some of the texts of scripture upon this subject are, as you observe, indeed strong; but they may admit of a mitigated interpretation.' he talked to me upon this awful and delicate question in a gentle tone, and as if afraid to be decisive[ ]. after supper i accompanied him to his apartment, and at my request he dictated to me an argument in favour of the negro who was then claiming his liberty, in an action in the court of session in scotland[ ]. he had always been very zealous against slavery in every form, in which i, with all deference, thought that he discovered 'a zeal without knowledge[ ].' upon one occasion, when in company with some very grave men at oxford, his toast was, 'here's to the next insurrection of the negroes in the west indies[ ].' his violent prejudice against our west indian and american settlers appeared whenever there was an opportunity[ ]. towards the conclusion of his _taxation no tyranny_, he says, 'how is it that we hear the loudest _yelps_ for liberty among the drivers of negroes[ ]?' and in his conversation with mr. wilkes, he asked, 'where did beckford and trecothick learn english[ ]?' that trecothick could both speak and write good english is well known. i myself was favoured with his correspondence concerning the brave corsicans. and that beckford could speak it with a spirit of honest resolution even to his majesty, as his 'faithful lord-mayor of london,' is commemorated by the noble monument erected to him in guildhall[ ].' the argument dictated by dr. johnson was as follows:-- 'it must be agreed that in most ages many countries have had part of their inhabitants in a state of slavery[ ]; yet it may be doubted whether slavery can ever be supposed the natural condition of man. it is impossible not to conceive that men in their original state were equal[ ]; and very difficult to imagine how one would be subjected to another but by violent compulsion. an individual may, indeed, forfeit his liberty by a crime; but he cannot by that crime forfeit the liberty of his children[ ]. what is true of a criminal seems true likewise of a captive. a man may accept life from a conquering enemy on condition of perpetual servitude; but it is very doubtful whether he can entail that servitude on his descendants; for no man can stipulate without commission for another. the condition which he himself accepts, his son or grandson perhaps would have rejected. if we should admit, what perhaps may with more reason be denied, that there are certain relations between man and man which may make slavery necessary and just, yet it can never be proved that he who is now suing for his freedom ever stood in any of those relations. he is certainly subject by no law, but that of violence, to his present master; who pretends no claim to his obedience, but that he bought him from a merchant of slaves, whose right to sell him never was examined. it is said that, according to the constitutions of jamaica, he was legally enslaved; these constitutions are merely positive; and apparently injurious to the rights of mankind, because whoever is exposed to sale is condemned to slavery without appeal; by whatever fraud or violence he might have been originally brought into the merchant's power. in our own time princes have been sold, by wretches to whose care they were entrusted, that they might have an european education; but when once they were brought to a market in the plantations, little would avail either their dignity or their wrongs. the laws of jamaica afford a negro no redress. his colour is considered as a sufficient testimony against him. it is to be lamented that moral right should ever give way to political convenience. but if temptations of interest are sometimes too strong for human virtue, let us at least retain a virtue where there is no temptation to quit it. in the present case there is apparent right on one side, and no convenience on the other. inhabitants of this island can neither gain riches nor power by taking away the liberty of any part of the human species. the sum of the argument is this:--no man is by nature the property of another: the defendant is, therefore, by nature free: the rights of nature must be some way forfeited before they can be justly taken away: that the defendant has by any act forfeited the rights of nature we require to be proved; and if no proof of such forfeiture can be given, we doubt not but the justice of the court will declare him free.' i record dr. johnson's argument fairly upon this particular case; where, perhaps, he was in the right. but i beg leave to enter my most solemn protest against his general doctrine with respect to the _slave trade_. for i will resolutely say--that his unfavourable notion of it was owing to prejudice, and imperfect or false information. the wild and dangerous attempt which has for some time been persisted in to obtain an act of our legislature, to abolish so very important and necessary a branch of commercial interest[ ], must have been crushed at once, had not the insignificance of the zealots who vainly took the lead in it, made the vast body of planters, merchants, and others, whose immense properties are involved in that trade, reasonably enough suppose that there could be no danger. the encouragement which the attempt has received excites my wonder and indignation: and though some men of superiour abilities have supported it; whether from a love of temporary popularity, when prosperous; or a love of general mischief, when desperate, my opinion is unshaken. to abolish a _status_, which in all ages god has sanctioned, and man has continued, would not only be _robbery_ to an innumerable class of our fellow-subjects; but it would be extreme cruelty to the african savages, a portion of whom it saves from massacre, or intolerable bondage in their own country, and introduces into a much happier state of life; especially now when their passage to the west-indies and their treatment there is humanely regulated. to abolish that trade would be to '--shut the gates of mercy on mankind[ ]'. whatever may have passed elsewhere concerning it, the house of lords is wise and independent: _intaminatis fulget honoribus; nec sumit aut ponit secures arbitrio popularis auræ_[ ]. i have read, conversed, and thought much upon the subject, and would recommend to all who are capable of conviction, an excellent tract by my learned and ingenious friend john ranby, esq., entitled _doubts on the abolition of the slave trade_. to mr. ranby's _doubts_ i will apply lord chancellor hardwicke's expression in praise of a scotch law book, called _dirletons doubts_; his _doubts_, (said his lordship,) are better than most people's _certainties_[ ]. when i said now to johnson, that i was afraid i kept him too late up. 'no, sir, (said he,) i don't care though i sit all night with you[ ].' this was an animated speech from a man in his sixty-ninth year. had i been as attentive not to displease him as i ought to have been, i know not but this vigil might have been fulfilled; but i unluckily entered upon the controversy concerning the right of great-britain to tax america, and attempted to argue in favour of our fellow-subjects on the other side of the atlantick[ ]. i insisted that america might be very well governed, and made to yield sufficient revenue by the means of _influence_[ ], as exemplified in ireland, while the people might be pleased with the imagination of their participating of the british constitution, by having a body of representatives, without whose consent money could not be exacted from them. johnson could not bear my thus opposing his avowed opinion, which he had exerted himself with an extreme degree of heat to enforce; and the violent agitation into which he was thrown, while answering, or rather reprimanding me, alarmed me so, that i heartily repented of my having unthinkingly introduced the subject. i myself, however, grew warm, and the change was great, from the calm state of philosophical discussion in which we had a little before been pleasingly employed. i talked of the corruption of the british parliament, in which i alleged that any question, however unreasonable or unjust, might be carried by a venal majority; and i spoke with high admiration of the roman senate, as if composed of men sincerely desirous to resolve what they should think best for their country[ ]. my friend would allow no such character to the roman senate; and he maintained that the british parliament was not corrupt, and that there was no occasion to corrupt its members; asserting, that there was hardly ever any question of great importance before parliament, any question in which a man might not very well vote either upon one side or the other. he said there had been none in his time except that respecting america. we were fatigued by the contest, which was produced by my want of caution; and he was not then in the humour to slide into easy and cheerful talk. it therefore so happened, that we were after an hour or two very willing to separate and go to bed[ ]. on wednesday, september , i went into dr. johnson's room before he got up, and finding that the storm of the preceding night was quite laid, i sat down upon his bed-side, and he talked with as much readiness and good-humour as ever. he recommended to me to plant a considerable part of a large moorish farm which i had purchased[ ], and he made several calculations of the expence and profit: for he delighted in exercising his mind on the science of numbers[ ]. he pressed upon me the importance of planting at the first in a very sufficient manner, quoting the saying '_in bello non licet bis errare_:' and adding, 'this is equally true in planting.' i spoke with gratitude of dr. taylor's hospitality; and, as evidence that it was not on account of his good table alone that johnson visited him often, i mentioned a little anecdote which had escaped my friend's recollection, and at hearing which repeated, he smiled. one evening, when i was sitting with him, frank delivered this message: 'sir, dr. taylor sends his compliments to you, and begs you will dine with him to-morrow. he has got a hare.'--'my compliments (said johnson) and i'll dine with him--hare or rabbit.' after breakfast i departed, and pursued my journey northwards[ ]. i took my post-chaise from the green man, a very good inn at ashbourne, the mistress of which, a mighty civil gentlewoman, courtseying very low, presented me with an engraving of the sign of her house; to which she had subjoined, in her own hand-writing, an address in such singular simplicity of style, that i have preserved it pasted upon one of the boards of my original journal at this time, and shall here insert it for the amusement of my readers:-- '_m. killingley's duty waits upon_ mr. boswell, _is exceedingly obliged to him for this favour; whenever he comes this way, hopes for a continuance of the same. would_ mr. boswell _name the house to his extensive acquaintance, it would be a singular favour conferr'd on one who has it not in her power to make any other return but her most grateful thanks, and sincerest prayers for his happiness in time, and in a blessed eternity. 'tuesday morn_.' from this meeting at ashbourne i derived a considerable accession to my johnsonian store. i communicated my original journal to sir william forbes, in whom i have always placed deserved confidence; and what he wrote to me concerning it is so much to my credit as the biographer of johnson, that my readers will, i hope, grant me their indulgence for here inserting it[ ]: 'it is not once or twice going over it (says sir william,) that will satisfy me; for i find in it a high degree of instruction as well as entertainment; and i derive more benefit from dr. johnson's admirable discussions than i should be able to draw from his personal conversation; for, i suppose there is not a man in the world to whom he discloses his sentiments so freely as to yourself.' i cannot omit a curious circumstance which occurred at edensor-inn, close by chatsworth, to survey the magnificence of which i had gone a considerable way out of my road to scotland. the inn was then kept by a very jolly landlord, whose name, i think, was malton. he happened to mention that 'the celebrated dr. johnson had been in his house.' i inquired _who_ this dr. johnson was, that i might hear mine host's notion of him. 'sir, (said he,) johnson, the great writer; _oddity_, as they call him. he's the greatest writer in england; he writes for the ministry; he has a correspondence abroad, and lets them know what's going on[ ].' my friend, who had a thorough dependance upon the authenticity of my relation without any _embellishment_[ ], as _falsehood_ or _fiction_ is too gently called, laughed a good deal at this representation of himself. 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, sept. , . 'my dear sir, 'by the first post i inform you of my safe arrival at my own house, and that i had the comfort of finding my wife and children all in good health. 'when i look back upon our late interview, it appears to me to have answered expectation better than almost any scheme of happiness that i ever put in execution. my journal is stored with wisdom and wit[ ]; and my memory is filled with the recollection of lively and affectionate feelings, which now, i think, yield me more satisfaction than at the time when they were first excited. i have experienced this upon other occasions. i shall be obliged to you if you will explain it to me; for it seems wonderful that pleasure should be more vivid at a distance than when near. i wish you may find yourself in a humour to do me this favour; but i flatter myself with no strong hope of it; for i have observed, that unless upon very serious occasions, your letters to me are not answers to those which i write[ ].' [i then expressed much uneasiness that i had mentioned to him the name of the gentleman[ ] who had told me the story so much to his disadvantage, the truth of which he had completely refuted; for that my having done so might be interpreted as a breach of confidence, and offend one whose society i valued:--therefore earnestly requesting that no notice might be taken of it to anybody, till i should be in london, and have an opportunity to talk it over with the gentleman.] 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'you will wonder, or you have wondered, why no letter has come from me. what you wrote at your return, had in it such a strain of cowardly caution as gave me no pleasure. i could not well do what you wished; i had no need to vex you with a refusal. i have seen mr. ----[ ], and as to him have set all right, without any inconvenience, so far as i know, to you. mrs. thrale had forgot the story. you may now be at ease. 'and at ease i certainly wish you, for the kindness that you showed in coming so long a journey to see me. it was pity to keep you so long in pain, but, upon reviewing the matter, i do not see what i could have done better than as i did. 'i hope you found at your return my dear enemy[ ] and all her little people quite well, and had no reason to repent of your journey. i think on it with great gratitude. 'i was not well when you left me at the doctor's, and i grew worse; yet i staid on, and at lichfield was very ill. travelling, however, did not make me worse; and when i came to london, i complied with a summons to go to brighthelmston, where i saw beauclerk, and staid three days. 'our club has recommenced last friday, but i was not there. langton has another wench[ ]. mrs. thrale is in hopes of a young brewer[ ]. they got by their trade last year a very large sum[ ], and their expenses are proportionate. 'mrs. williams's health is very bad. and i have had for some time a very difficult and laborious respiration; but i am better by purges, abstinence, and other methods. i am yet, however, much behind hand in my health and rest. 'dr. blair's sermons are now universally commended; but let him think that i had the honour of first finding and first praising his excellencies. i did not stay to add my voice to that of the publick[ ]. 'my dear friend, let me thank you once more for your visit; you did me great honour, and i hope met with nothing that displeased you. i staid long at ashbourne, not much pleased, yet aukward at departing. i then went to lichfield, where i found my friend at stow-hill[ ] very dangerously diseased. such is life. let us try to pass it well, whatever it be, for there is surely something beyond it. 'well, now i hope all is well, write as soon as you can to, dear sir, 'your affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, nov. , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, nov. , . 'my dear sir, 'this day's post has at length relieved me from much uneasiness, by bringing me a letter from you. i was, indeed, doubly uneasy;--on my own account and yours. i was very anxious to be secured against any bad consequences from my imprudence in mentioning the gentleman's name who had told me a story to your disadvantage; and as i could hardly suppose it possible, that you would delay so long to make me easy, unless you were ill, i was not a little apprehensive about you. you must not be offended when i venture to tell you that you appear to me to have been too rigid upon this occasion. the "_cowardly caution which gave you no pleasure_," was suggested to me by a friend here, to whom i mentioned the strange story and the detection of its falsity, as an instance how one may be deceived by what is apparently very good authority. but, as i am still persuaded, that as i might have obtained the truth, without mentioning the gentleman's name, it was wrong in me to do it, i cannot see that you are just in blaming my caution. but if you were ever so just in your disapprobation, might you not have dealt more tenderly with me? 'i went to auchinleck about the middle of october, and passed some time with my father very comfortably. * * * * * 'i am engaged in a criminal prosecution against a country schoolmaster, for indecent behaviour to his female scholars. there is no statute against such abominable conduct; but it is punishable at common law. i shall be obliged to you for your assistance in this extraordinary trial. i ever am, my dear sir, 'your faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' about this time i wrote to johnson, giving him an account of the decision of the _negro cause_, by the court of session, which by those who hold even the mildest and best regulated slavery in abomination, (of which number i do not hesitate to declare that i am none,) should be remembered with high respect, and to the credit of scotland; for it went upon a much broader ground than the case of _somerset_, which was decided in england[ ]; being truly the general question, whether a perpetual obligation of service to one master in any mode should be sanctified by the law of a free country. a negro, then called _joseph knight_, a native of africa, who having been brought to jamaica in the usual course of the slave trade, and purchased by a scotch gentleman in that island, had attended his master to scotland, where it was officiously suggested to him that he would be found entitled to his liberty without any limitation. he accordingly brought his action, in the course of which the advocates on both sides did themselves great honour. mr. maclaurin has had the praise of johnson, for his argument[ ] in favour of the negro, and mr. macconochie distinguished himself on the same side, by his ingenuity and extraordinary research. mr. cullen, on the part of the master, discovered good information and sound reasoning; in which he was well supported by mr. james ferguson, remarkable for a manly understanding, and a knowledge both of books and of the world. but i cannot too highly praise the speech which mr. henry dundas generously contributed to the cause of the sooty stranger. mr. dundas's scottish accent[ ], which has been so often in vain obtruded as an objection to his powerful abilities in parliament, was no disadvantage to him in his own country. and i do declare, that upon this memorable question he impressed me, and i believe all his audience, with such feelings as were produced by some of the most eminent orations of antiquity. this testimony i liberally give to the excellence of an old friend, with whom it has been my lot to differ very widely upon many political topicks; yet i persuade myself without malice. a great majority of the lords of session decided for the negro. but four of their number, the lord president, lord elliock, lord monboddo, and lord covington, resolutely maintained the lawfulness of a status, which has been acknowledged in all ages and countries, and that when freedom flourished, as in old greece and rome[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'this is the time of the year in which all express their good wishes to their friends, and i send mine to you and your family. may your lives be long, happy, and good. i have been much out of order, but, i hope, do not grow worse. 'the crime of the schoolmaster whom you are engaged to prosecute is very great, and may be suspected to be too common. in our law it would be a breach of the peace, and a misdemeanour: that is, a kind of indefinite crime, not capital, but punishable at the discretion of the court. you cannot want matter: all that needs to be said will easily occur. 'mr. shaw[ ], the author of the _gaelick grammar_, desires me to make a request for him to lord eglintoune, that he may be appointed chaplain to one of the new-raised regiments. 'all our friends are as they were; little has happened to them of either good or bad. mrs. thrale ran a great black hair-dressing pin into her eye; but by great evacuation she kept it from inflaming, and it is almost well. miss reynolds has been out of order, but is better. mrs. williams is in a very poor state of health. 'if i should write on, i should, perhaps, write only complaints, and therefore i will content myself with telling you, that i love to think on you, and to hear from you; and that i am, dear sir, 'yours faithfully, 'sam. johnson.' 'december , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, jan. , . 'dear sir, 'your congratulations upon a new year are mixed with complaint: mine must be so too. my wife has for some time been very ill, having been confined to the house these three months by a severe cold, attended with alarming symptoms. [here i gave a particular account of the distress which the person, upon every account most dear to me, suffered; and of the dismal state of apprehension in which i now was: adding that i never stood more in need of his consoling philosophy.] 'did you ever look at a book written by wilson, a scotchman, under the latin name of _volusenus_, according to the custom of literary men at a certain period. it is entitled _de animi tranquillitate_[ ]. i earnestly desire tranquillity. _bona res quies_: but i fear i shall never attain it: for, when unoccupied, i grow gloomy, and occupation agitates me to feverishness. * * * * * 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'to a letter so interesting as your last, it is proper to return some answer, however little i may be disposed to write. 'your alarm at your lady's illness was reasonable, and not disproportionate to the appearance of the disorder. i hope your physical friend's conjecture is now verified, and all fear of a consumption at an end: a little care and exercise will then restore her. london is a good air for ladies; and if you bring her hither, i will do for her what she did for me--i will retire from my apartments, for her accommodation[ ]. behave kindly to her, and keep her cheerful. 'you always seem to call for tenderness. know then, that in the first month of the present year i very highly esteem and very cordially love you. i hope to tell you this at the beginning of every year as long as we live; and why should we trouble ourselves to tell or hear it oftener? 'tell veronica, euphemia, and alexander, that i wish them, as well as their parents, many happy years. 'you have ended the negro's cause much to my mind. lord auchinleck and dear lord hailes were on the side of liberty. lord hailes's name reproaches me; but if he saw my languid neglect of my own affairs, he would rather pity than resent my neglect of his. i hope to mend, _ut et mihi vivam et amicis_. 'i am, dear sir, 'your's affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'january , .' 'my service to my fellow-traveller, joseph[ ].' johnson maintained a long and intimate friendship with mr. welch[ ], who succeeded the celebrated henry fielding as one of his majesty's justices of the peace for westminster; kept a regular office for the police[ ] of that great district; and discharged his important trust, for many years, faithfully and ably. johnson, who had an eager and unceasing curiosity to know human life in all its variety, told me, that he attended mr. welch in his office for a whole winter, to hear the examinations of the culprits; but that he found an almost uniform tenor of misfortune, wretchedness and profligacy. mr. welch's health being impaired, he was advised to try the effect of a warm climate; and johnson, by his interest with mr. chamier[ ], procured him leave of absence to go to italy, and a promise that the pension or salary of two hundred pounds a year, which government allowed him[ ], should not be discontinued. mr. welch accordingly went abroad, accompanied by his daughter anne, a young lady of uncommon talents and literature. 'to saunders welch, esq., at the english coffee-house, rome. 'dear sir, 'to have suffered one of my best and dearest friends to pass almost two years in foreign countries without a letter, has a very shameful appearance of inattention. but the truth is, that there was no particular time in which i had any thing particular to say; and general expressions of good will, i hope, our long friendship is grown too solid to want. 'of publick affairs you have information from the news-papers wherever you go, for the english keep no secret; and of other things, mrs. nollekens informs you. my intelligence could therefore be of no use; and miss nancy's letters made it unnecessary to write to you for information: i was likewise for some time out of humour, to find that motion, and nearer approaches to the sun, did not restore your health so fast as i expected. of your health, the accounts have lately been more pleasing; and i have the gratification of imaging to myself a length of years which i hope you have gained, and of which the enjoyment will be improved by a vast accession of images and observations which your journeys and various residence have enabled you to make and accumulate. you have travelled with this felicity, almost peculiar to yourself, that your companion is not to part from you at your journey's end; but you are to live on together, to help each other's recollection, and to supply each other's omissions. the world has few greater pleasures than that which two friends enjoy, in tracing back, at some distant time, those transactions and events through which they have passed together. one of the old man's miseries is, that he cannot easily find a companion able to partake with him of the past. you and your fellow-traveller have this comfort in store, that your conversation will be not easily exhausted; one will always be glad to say what the other will always be willing to hear. 'that you may enjoy this pleasure long, your health must have your constant attention. i suppose you purpose to return this year. there is no need of haste: do not come hither before the height of summer, that you may fall gradually into the inconveniences of your native clime. july seems to be the proper month. august and september will prepare you for the winter. after having travelled so far to find health, you must take care not to lose it at home; and i hope a little care will effectually preserve it. 'miss nancy has doubtless kept a constant and copious journal. she must not expect to be welcome when she returns, without a great mass of information. let her review her journal often, and set down what she finds herself to have omitted, that she may trust to memory as little as possible, for memory is soon confused by a quick succession of things; and she will grow every day less confident of the truth of her own narratives, unless she can recur to some written memorials. if she has satisfied herself with hints, instead of full representations, let her supply the deficiencies now while her memory is yet fresh, and while her father's memory may help her. if she observes this direction, she will not have travelled in vain; for she will bring home a book with which she may entertain herself to the end of life. if it were not now too late, i would advise her to note the impression which the first sight of any thing new and wonderful made upon her mind. let her now set her thoughts down as she can recollect them; for faint as they may already be, they will grow every day fainter. 'perhaps i do not flatter myself unreasonably when i imagine that you may wish to know something of me. i can gratify your benevolence with no account of health. the hand of time, or of disease, is very heavy upon me. i pass restless and uneasy nights, harassed with convulsions of my breast, and flatulencies at my stomach; and restless nights make heavy days. but nothing will be mended by complaints, and therefore i will make an end. when we meet, we will try to forget our cares and our maladies, and contribute, as we can, to the chearfulness of each other. if i had gone with you, i believe i should have been better; but i do not know that it was in my power. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam, johnson.' 'feb. , .' this letter, while it gives admirable advice how to travel to the best advantage, and will therefore be of very general use, is another eminent proof of johnson's warm and affectionate heart[ ]. 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'my dear sir, 'why i have delayed, for near a month, to thank you for your last affectionate letter, i cannot say; for my mind has been in better health these three weeks than for some years past. i believe i have evaded till i could send you a copy of lord hailes's opinion on the negro's cause, which he wishes you to read, and correct any errours that there may be in the language; for, says he, "we live in a critical, though not a learned age; and i seek to screen myself under the shield of ajax." i communicated to him your apology for keeping the sheets of his _annals_ so long. he says, "i am sorry to see that dr. johnson is in a state of languor. why should a sober christian, neither an enthusiast nor a fanatick, be very merry or very sad?" i envy his lordship's comfortable constitution: but well do i know that languor and dejection will afflict the best, however excellent their principles. i am in possession of lord hailes's opinion in his own hand-writing, and have had it for some time. my excuse then for procrastination must be, that i wanted to have it copied; and i have now put that off so long, that it will be better to bring it with me than send it, as i shall probably get you to look at it sooner, when i solicit you in person. 'my wife, who is, i thank god, a good deal better, is much obliged to you for your very polite and courteous offer of your apartment: but, if she goes to london, it will be best for her to have lodgings in the more airy vicinity of hyde-park. i, however, doubt much if i shall be able to prevail with her to accompany me to the metropolis; for she is so different from you and me, that she dislikes travelling; and she is so anxious about her children, that she thinks she should be unhappy if at a distance from them. she therefore wishes rather to go to some country place in scotland, where she can have them with her. 'i purpose being in london about the th of next month, as i think it creditable to appear in the house of lords as one of douglas's counsel, in the great and last competition between duke hamilton and him[ ]. * * * * * 'i am sorry poor mrs. williams is so ill: though her temper is unpleasant, she has always been polite and obliging to me. i wish many happy years to good mr. levett, who i suppose holds his usual place at your breakfast table[ ]. 'i ever am, my dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' to the same. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'my dear sir, 'you are at present busy amongst the english poets, preparing, for the publick instruction and entertainment, prefaces, biographical and critical. it will not, therefore, be out of season to appeal to you for the decision of a controversy which has arisen between a lady and me concerning a passage in parnell. that poet tells us, that his hermit quitted his cell "... to know the world by sight, to find if _books_ or _swains_ report it right; (for yet by _swains alone_ the world he knew, whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew.)" i maintain, that there is an inconsistency here; for as the hermit's notions of the world were formed from the reports both of _books_ and _swains_, he could not justly be said to know by _swains alone_. be pleased to judge between us, and let us have your reasons[ ]. 'what do you say to _taxation no tyranny_, now, after lord north's declaration, or confession, or whatever else his conciliatory speech should be called[ ]? i never differed from you in politicks but upon two points,--the middlesex election[ ], and the taxation of the americans by the _british houses of representatives_[ ]. there is a _charm _in the word _parliament_, so i avoid it. as i am a steady and a warm tory, i regret that the king does not see it to be better for him to receive constitutional supplies from his american subjects by the voice of their own assemblies, where his royal person is represented, than through the medium of his british subjects. i am persuaded that the power of the crown, which i wish to increase, would be greater when in contact with all its dominions, than if "the rays of regal bounty[ ]" were to "shine" upon america through that dense and troubled body, a modern british parliament. but, enough of this subject; for your angry voice at ashbourne[ ] upon it, still sounds aweful "in my mind's _ears_[ ]." 'i ever am, my dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' to the same. 'edinburgh, march , . 'my dear sir, 'the alarm of your late illness distressed me but a few hours; for on the evening of the day that it reached me, i found it contradicted in _the london chronicle_, which i could depend upon as authentick concerning you, mr. strahan being the printer of it. i did not see the paper in which "the approaching extinction of a bright luminary" was announced. sir william forbes told me of it; and he says, he saw me so uneasy, that he did not give me the report in such strong terms as he read it. he afterwards sent me a letter from mr. langton to him, which relieved me much. i am, however, not quite easy, as i have not heard from you; and now i shall not have that comfort before i see you, for i set out for london to-morrow before the post comes in. i hope to be with you on wednesday morning; and i ever am, with the highest veneration, my dear sir, your much obliged, faithful, and affectionate, 'humble servant, 'james boswell.' on wednesday, march , i arrived in london, and was informed by good mr. francis that his master was better, and was gone to mr. thrale's at streatham, to which place i wrote to him, begging to know when he would be in town. he was not expected for some time; but next day having called on dr. taylor, in dean's-yard, westminster, i found him there, and was told he had come to town for a few hours. he met me with his usual kindness, but instantly returned to the writing of something on which he was employed when i came in, and on which he seemed much intent. finding him thus engaged, i made my visit very short, and had no more of his conversation, except his expressing a serious regret that a friend of ours[ ] was living at too much expence, considering how poor an appearance he made: 'if (said he) a man has splendour from his expence, if he spends his money in pride or in pleasure, he has value: but if he lets others spend it for him, which is most commonly the case, he has no advantage from it.' on friday, march , i found him at his own house, sitting with mrs. williams, and was informed that the room formerly allotted to me[ ] was now appropriated to a charitable purpose; mrs. desmoulins[ ], and i think her daughter, and a miss carmichael, being all lodged in it. such was his humanity, and such his generosity, that mrs. desmoulins herself told me, he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. let it be remembered, that this was above a twelfth part of his pension. his liberality, indeed, was at all periods of his life very remarkable. mr. howard, of lichfield, at whose father's house johnson had in his early years been kindly received, told me, that when he was a boy at the charter-house, his father wrote to him to go and pay a visit to mr. samuel johnson, which he accordingly did, and found him in an upper room, of poor appearance. johnson received him with much courteousness, and talked a great deal to him, as to a school-boy, of the course of his education, and other particulars. when he afterwards came to know and understand the high character of this great man, he recollected his condescension with wonder. he added, that when he was going away, mr. johnson presented him with half-a-guinea; and this, said mr. howard, was at a time when he probably had not another. we retired from mrs. williams to another room. tom davies soon after joined us. he had now unfortunately failed in his circumstances, and was much indebted to dr. johnson's kindness for obtaining for him many alleviations of his distress[ ]. after he went away, johnson blamed his folly in quitting the stage, by which he and his wife got five hundred pounds a year. i said, i believed it was owing to churchill's attack upon him, 'he mouths a sentence, as curs mouth a bone[ ].' johnson. 'i believe so too, sir. but what a man is he, who is to be driven from the stage by a line? another line would have driven him from his shop.' i told him, that i was engaged as counsel at the bar of the house of commons to oppose a road-bill in the county of stirling, and asked him what mode he would advise me to follow in addressing such an audience. johnson. 'why, sir, you must provide yourself with a good deal of extraneous matter, which you are to produce occasionally, so as to fill up the time; for you must consider, that they do not listen much. if you begin with the strength of your cause, it may be lost before they begin to listen. when you catch a moment of attention, press the merits of the question upon them.' he said, as to one point of the merits, that he thought 'it would be a wrong thing to deprive the small landholders of the privilege of assessing themselves for making and repairing the high roads; _it was destroying a certain portion of liberty, without a good reason, which was always a bad thing_! when i mentioned this observation next day to mr. wilkes, he pleasantly said, 'what! does _he_ talk of liberty? _liberty_ is as ridiculous in _his_ mouth as _religion_ in _mine_!' mr. wilkes's advice, as to the best mode of speaking at the bar of the house of commons, was not more respectful towards the senate, than that of dr. johnson. 'be as impudent as you can, as merry as you can, and say whatever comes uppermost. jack lee[ ] is the best heard there of any counsel; and he is the most impudent dog, and always abusing us.' in my interview with dr. johnson this evening, i was quite easy, quite as his companion; upon which i find in my journal the following reflection: 'so ready is my mind to suggest matter for dissatisfaction, that i felt a sort of regret that i was so easy. i missed that aweful reverence with which i used to contemplate mr. samuel johnson, in the complex magnitude of his literary, moral, and religious character. i have a wonderful superstitious love of _mystery_; when, perhaps, the truth is, that it is owing to the cloudy darkness of my own mind. i should be glad that i am more advanced in my progress of being, so that i can view dr. johnson with a steadier and clearer eye. my dissatisfaction to-night was foolish. would it not be foolish to regret that we shall have less mystery in a future state? that we "now see in[ ] a glass darkly," but shall "then see face to face?"' this reflection, which i thus freely communicate, will be valued by the thinking part of my readers, who may have themselves experienced a similar state of mind. he returned next day to streatham, to mr. thrale's; where, as mr. strahan once complained to me, 'he was in a great measure absorbed from the society of his old friends[ ].' i was kept in london by business, and wrote to him on the th, that a separation from him for a week, when we were so near, was equal to a separation for a year, when we were at four hundred miles distance. i went to streatham on monday, march . before he appeared, mrs. thrale made a very characteristical remark:--'i do not know for certain what will please dr. johnson: but i know for certain that it will displease him to praise any thing, even what he likes, extravagantly[ ].' at dinner he laughed at querulous declamations against the age, on account of luxury[ ],--increase of london,--scarcity of provisions,--and other such topicks. 'houses (said he) will be built till rents fall: and corn is more plentiful now than ever it was[ ].' i had before dinner repeated a ridiculous story told me by an old man who had been a passenger with me in the stage-coach to-day. mrs. thrale, having taken occasion to allude to it in talking to me, called it 'the story told you by the old _woman_.'--'now, madam, (said i,) give me leave to catch you in the fact; it was not an old _woman_, but an old _man_, whom i mentioned as having told me this.' i presumed to take an opportunity, in presence of johnson, of shewing this lively lady how ready she was, unintentionally, to deviate from exact authenticity of narration[ ]. _thomas à kempis_ (he observed) must be a good book, as the world has opened its arms to receive it. it is said to have been printed, in one language or other, as many times as there have been months since it first came out[ ]. i always was struck with this sentence in it: 'be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be[ ].' he said, 'i was angry with hurd about cowley, for having published a selection of his works: but, upon better consideration, i think there is no impropriety in a man's publishing as much as he chooses of any authour, if he does not put the rest out of the way. a man, for instance, may print the _odes_ of horace alone.' he seemed to be in a more indulgent humour, than when this subject was discussed between him and mr. murphy[ ]. when we were at tea and coffee, there came in lord trimlestown, in whose family was an ancient irish peerage, but it suffered by taking the generous side in the troubles of the last century[ ]. he was a man of pleasing conversation, and was accompanied by a young gentleman, his son. i mentioned that i had in my possession the _life of sir robert sibbald_, the celebrated scottish antiquary, and founder of the royal college of physicians at edinburgh, in the original manuscript in his own handwriting; and that it was i believed the most natural and candid account of himself that ever was given by any man. as an instance, he tells that the duke of perth, then chancellor of scotland, pressed him very much to come over to the roman catholick faith: that he resisted all his grace's arguments for a considerable time, till one day he felt himself, as it were, instantaneously convinced, and with tears in his eyes ran into the duke's arms, and embraced the ancient religion; that he continued very steady in it for some time, and accompanied his grace to london one winter, and lived in his household; that there he found the rigid fasting prescribed by the church very severe upon him; that this disposed him to reconsider the controversy, and having then seen that he was in the wrong, he returned to protestantism. i talked of some time or other publishing this curious life. mrs. thrale. 'i think you had as well let alone that publication. to discover such weakness, exposes a man when he is gone.' johnson. 'nay, it is an honest picture of human nature. how often are the primary motives of our greatest actions as small as sibbald's, for his re-conversion[ ].' mrs. thrale. 'but may they not as well be forgotten?' johnson. 'no, madam, a man loves to review his own mind. that is the use of a diary, or journal[ ].' lord trimlestown. 'true, sir. as the ladies love to see themselves in a glass; so a man likes to see himself in his journal.' boswell. 'a very pretty allusion.' johnson. 'yes, indeed.' boswell. 'and as a lady adjusts her dress before a mirror, a man adjusts his character by looking at his journal.' i next year found the very same thought in atterbury's _funeral sermon on lady cutts_; where, having mentioned her _diary_, he says, 'in this glass she every day dressed her mind.' this is a proof of coincidence, and not of plagiarism; for i had never read that sermon before. next morning, while we were at breakfast, johnson gave a very earnest recommendation of what he himself practised with the utmost conscientiousness: i mean a strict attention to truth, even in the most minute particulars. 'accustom your children (said he) constantly to this; if a thing happened at one window, and they, when relating it, say that it happened at another, do not let it pass, but instantly check them; you do not know where deviation from truth will end.' boswell. 'it may come to the door: and when once an account is at all varied in one circumstance, it may by degrees be varied so as to be totally different from what really happened.' our lively hostess, whose fancy was impatient of the rein, fidgeted at this, and ventured to say, 'nay, this is too much. if mr. johnson should forbid me to drink tea, i would comply, as i should feel the restraint only twice a day; but little variations in narrative must happen a thousand times a day, if one is not perpetually watching.' johnson. 'well, madam, and you _ought_ to be perpetually watching. it is more from carelessness about truth than from intentional lying, that there is so much falsehood in the world[ ].' in his review of dr. warton's _essay on the writings and genius of pope_, johnson has given the following salutary caution upon this subject:-- 'nothing but experience could evince the frequency of false information, or enable any man to conceive that so many groundless reports should be propagated, as every man of eminence may hear of himself. some men relate what they think, as what they know; some men of confused memories and habitual inaccuracy, ascribe to one man what belongs to another; and some talk on, without thought or care. a few men are sufficient to broach falsehoods, which are afterwards innocently diffused by successive relaters[ ].' had he lived to read what sir john hawkins and mrs. piozzi have related concerning himself, how much would he have found his observation illustrated. he was indeed so much impressed with the prevalence of falsehood, voluntary or unintentional, that i never knew any person who upon hearing an extraordinary circumstance told, discovered more of the _incredulus odi_[ ]. he would say, with a significant look and decisive tone, 'it is not so. do not tell this again[ ].' he inculcated upon all his friends the importance of perpetual vigilance against the slightest degrees of falsehood; the effect of which, as sir joshua reynolds observed to me, has been, that all who were of his _school_ are distinguished for a love of truth and accuracy, which they would not have possessed in the same degree, if they had not been acquainted with johnson[ ]. talking of ghosts, he said, 'it is wonderful that five thousand years have now elapsed since the creation of the world, and still it is undecided whether or not there has ever been an instance of the spirit of any person appearing after death. all argument is against it; but all belief is for it[ ].' he said, 'john wesley's conversation is good[ ], but he is never at leisure. he is always obliged to go at a certain hour[ ]. this is very disagreeable to a man who loves to fold his legs and have out his talk, as i do.' on friday, april , i dined with him in london, in a company[ ] where were present several eminent men, whom i shall not name, but distinguish their parts in the conversation by different letters. f. 'i have been looking at this famous antique marble dog of mr. jennings, valued at a thousand guineas, said to be alcibiades's dog.' johnson. 'his tail then must be docked. that was the mark of alcibiades's dog[ ].' e. 'a thousand guineas! the representation of no animal whatever is worth so much, at this rate a dead dog would indeed be better than a living lion.' johnson. 'sir, it is not the worth of the thing, but of the skill in forming it which is so highly estimated. every thing that enlarges the sphere of human powers, that shews man he can do what he thought he could not do, is valuable. the first man who balanced a straw upon his nose[ ]; johnson, who rode upon three horses at a time[ ]; in short, all such men deserved the applause of mankind, not on account of the use of what they did, but of the dexterity which they exhibited.' boswell. 'yet a misapplication of time and assiduity is not to be encouraged. addison, in one of his _spectators_, commends the judgement of a king, who, as a suitable reward to a man that by long perseverance had attained to the art of throwing a barleycorn through the eye of a needle, gave him a bushel of barley.' johnson. 'he must have been a king of scotland, where barley is scarce.' f. 'one of the most remarkable antique figures of an animal is the boar at florence.' johnson. 'the first boar that is well made in marble, should be preserved as a wonder. when men arrive at a facility of making boars well, then the workmanship is not of such value, but they should however be preserved as examples, and as a greater security for the restoration of the art, should it be lost.' e. 'we hear prodigious[ ] complaints at present of emigration[ ]. i am convinced that emigration makes a country more populous.' j. 'that sounds very much like a paradox.' e. 'exportation of men, like exportation of all other commodities, makes more be produced.' johnson. 'but there would be more people were there not emigration, provided there were food for more.' e. 'no; leave a few breeders, and you'll have more people than if there were no emigration.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is plain there will be more people, if there are more breeders. thirty cows in good pasture will produce more calves than ten cows, provided they have good bulls.' e. 'there are bulls enough in ireland.' johnson. (smiling,) 'so, sir, i should think from your argument.' boswell. 'you said, exportation of men, like exportation of other commodities, makes more be produced. but a bounty is given to encourage the exportation of corn[ ], and no bounty is given for the exportation of men; though, indeed, those who go, gain by it.' r. 'but the bounty on the exportation of corn is paid at home.' e. 'that's the same thing.' johnson. 'no, sir.' r. 'a man who stays at home, gains nothing by his neighbours emigrating.' boswell. 'i can understand that emigration may be the cause that more people may be produced in a country; but the country will not therefore be the more populous; for the people issue from it. it can only be said that there is a flow of people. it is an encouragement to have children, to know that they can get a living by emigration.' r. 'yes, if there were an emigration of children under six years of age. but they don't emigrate till they could earn their livelihood in some way at home.' c. 'it is remarkable that the most unhealthy countries, where there are the most destructive diseases, such as egypt and bengal, are the most populous.' johnson. 'countries which are the most populous have the most destructive diseases. _that_ is the true state of the proposition.' c. 'holland is very unhealthy, yet it is exceedingly populous.' johnson. 'i know not that holland is unhealthy. but its populousness is owing to an influx of people from all other countries. disease cannot be the cause of populousness, for it not only carries off a great proportion of the people, but those who are left are weakened and unfit for the purposes of increase.' r. 'mr. e., i don't mean to flatter, but when posterity reads one of your speeches in parliament, it will be difficult to believe that you took so much pains, knowing with certainty that it could produce no effect, that not one vote would be gained by it[ ].' e. 'waiving your compliment to me, i shall say in general, that it is very well worth while for a man to take pains to speak well in parliament. a man, who has vanity, speaks to display his talents; and if a man speaks well, he gradually establishes a certain reputation and consequence in the general opinion, which sooner or later will have its political reward. besides, though not one vote is gained, a good speech has its effect. though an act which has been ably opposed passes into a law, yet in its progress it is modelled, it is softened in such a manner, that we see plainly the minister has been told, that the members attached to him are so sensible of its injustice or absurdity from what they have heard, that it must be altered[ ].' johnson. 'and, sir, there is a gratification of pride. though we cannot out-vote them we will out-argue them. they shall not do wrong without its being shown both to themselves and to the world.' e. 'the house of commons is a mixed body. (i except the minority, which i hold to be pure, [smiling] but i take the whole house.) it is a mass by no means pure; but neither is it wholly corrupt, though there is a large proportion of corruption in it. there are many members who generally go with the minister, who will not go all lengths. there are many honest well-meaning country gentleman who are in parliament only to keep up the consequence of their families. upon most of these a good speech will have influence.' johnson. 'we are all more or less governed by interest. but interest will not make us do every thing. in a case which admits of doubt, we try to think on the side which is for our interest, and generally bring ourselves to act accordingly. but the subject must admit of diversity of colouring; it must receive a colour on that side. in the house of commons there are members enough who will not vote what is grossly unjust or absurd. no, sir, there must always be right enough, or appearance of right, to keep wrong in countenance.' boswell. 'there is surely always a majority in parliament who have places, or who want to have them, and who therefore will be generally ready to support government without requiring any pretext.' e. 'true, sir; that majority will always follow "_quo clamor vocat et turba, faventium_[ ]."' boswell. 'well now, let us take the common phrase, place-hunters. i thought they had hunted without regard to any thing, just as their huntsmen, the minister, leads, looking only to the prey[ ].' j. 'but taking your metaphor, you know that in hunting there are few so desperately keen as to follow without reserve. some do not choose to leap ditches and hedges and risk their necks, or gallop over steeps, or even to dirty themselves in bogs and mire.' boswell. 'i am glad there are some good, quiet, moderate political hunters.' e. 'i believe, in any body of men in england, i should have been in the minority; i have always been in the minority.' p. 'the house of commons resembles a private company. how seldom is any man convinced by another's argument; passion and pride rise against it.' r. 'what would be the consequence, if a minister, sure of a majority in the house of commons, should resolve that there should be no speaking at all upon his side.' e. 'he must soon go out. that has been tried; but it was found it would not do.' e. 'the irish language is not primitive; it is teutonick, a mixture of the northern tongues: it has much english in it.' johnson. 'it may have been radically teutonick; but english and high dutch have no similarity to the eye, though radically the same. once, when looking into low dutch, i found, in a whole page, only one word similar to english; _stroem_, like _stream_, and it signified _tide_'. e. 'i remember having seen a dutch sonnet, in which i found this word, _roesnopies_. nobody would at first think that this could be english; but, when we enquire, we find _roes_, rose, and _nopie_, knob; so we have _rosebuds_'. johnson. 'i have been reading thicknesse's _travels_, which i think are entertaining.' boswell. 'what, sir, a good book?' johnson. 'yes, sir, to read once; i do not say you are to make a study of it, and digest it; and i believe it to be a true book in his intention. all travellers generally mean to tell truth; though thicknesse observes, upon smollet's account of his alarming a whole town in france by firing a blunderbuss[ ], and frightening a french nobleman till he made him tie on his portmanteau[ ], that he would be loth to say smollet had told two lies in one page; but he had found the only town in france where these things could have happened[ ]. travellers must often be mistaken. in every thing, except where mensuration can be applied, they may honestly differ. there has been, of late, a strange turn in travellers to be displeased[ ].' e. 'from the experience which i have had,--and i have had a great deal,--i have learnt to think _better_ of mankind[ ].' johnson. 'from my experience i have found them worse in commercial dealings, more disposed to cheat, than i had any notion of; but more disposed to do one another good than i had conceived[ ].' j. 'less just and more beneficent.' johnson. 'and really it is wonderful, considering how much attention is necessary for men to take care of themselves, and ward off immediate evils which press upon them, it is wonderful how much they do for others. as it is said of the greatest liar, that he tells more truth than falsehood; so it may be said of the worst man, that he does more good than evil[ ].' boswell. 'perhaps from experience men may be found happier than we suppose.' johnson. 'no, sir; the more we enquire, we shall find men the less happy.' p. 'as to thinking better or worse of mankind from experience, some cunning people will not be satisfied unless they have put men to the test, as they think. there is a very good story told of sir godfrey kneller, in his character of a justice of the peace. a gentleman brought his servant before him, upon an accusation of having stolen some money from him; but it having come out that he had laid it purposely in the servant's way, in order to try his honesty, sir godfrey sent the master to prison[ ].' johnson. 'to resist temptation once, is not a sufficient proof of honesty. if a servant, indeed, were to resist the continued temptation of silver lying in a window, as some people let it lye, when he is sure his master does not know how much there is of it, he would give a strong proof of honesty. but this is a proof to which you have no right to put a man. you know, humanly speaking, there is a certain degree of temptation, which will overcome any virtue. now, in so far as you approach temptation to a man, you do him an injury; and, if he is overcome, you share his guilt.' p. 'and, when once overcome, it is easier for him to be got the better of again.' boswell. 'yes, you are his seducer; you have debauched him. i have known a man[ ] resolved to put friendship to the test, by asking a friend to lend him money merely with that view, when he did not want it.' johnson. 'that is very wrong, sir. your friend may be a narrow man, and yet have many good qualities: narrowness may be his only fault. now you are trying his general character as a friend, by one particular singly, in which he happens to be defective, when, in truth, his character is composed of many particulars.' e. 'i understand the hogshead of claret, which this society was favoured with by our friend the dean[ ], is nearly out; i think he should be written to, to send another of the same kind. let the request be made with a happy ambiguity of expression, so that we may have the chance of his sending _it_ also as a present.' johnson. 'i am willing to offer my services as secretary on this occasion.' p. 'as many as are for dr. johnson being secretary hold up your hands.--carried unanimously.' boswell. 'he will be our dictator.' johnson. 'no, the company is to dictate to me. i am only to write for wine; and i am quite disinterested, as i drink none; i shall not be suspected of having forged the application. i am no more than humble _scribe_.' e. 'then you shall _pre_scribe.' boswell. 'very well. the first play of words to-day.' j. 'no, no; the _bulls_ in ireland.' johnson. 'were i your dictator you should have no wine. it would be my business _cavere ne quid detrimenti respublica caperet_, and wine is dangerous. rome was ruined by luxury,' (smiling.) e. 'if you allow no wine as dictator, you shall not have me for your master of horse.' on saturday, april , i drank tea with johnson at dr. taylor's, where he had dined. he entertained us with an account of a tragedy written by a dr. kennedy, (not the lisbon physician.) 'the catastrophe of it (said he) was, that a king, who was jealous of his queen with his prime-minister, castrated himself[ ]. this tragedy was actually shewn about in manuscript to several people, and, amongst others, to mr. fitzherbert, who repeated to me two lines of the prologue: "our hero's fate we have but gently touch'd; the fair might blame us, if it were less couch'd." it is hardly to be believed what absurd and indecent images men will introduce into their writings, without being sensible of the absurdity and indecency. i remember lord orrery told me, that there was a pamphlet written against sir robert walpole, the whole of which was an allegory on the phallick obscenity. the duchess of buckingham asked lord orrery _who_ this person was? he answered he did not know. she said, she would send to mr. pulteney, who, she supposed, could inform her. so then, to prevent her from making herself ridiculous, lord orrery sent her grace a note, in which he gave her to understand what was meant.' he was very silent this evening; and read in a variety of books: suddenly throwing down one, and taking up another. he talked of going to streatham that night. taylor. 'you'll be robbed if you do: or you must shoot a highwayman[ ]. now i would rather be robbed than do that; i would not shoot a highwayman.' johnson. 'but i would rather shoot him in the instant when he is attempting to rob me, than afterwards swear against him at the old-bailey, to take away his life, after he has robbed me[ ]. i am surer i am right in the one case than in the other. i may be mistaken as to the man, when i swear: i cannot be mistaken, if i shoot him in the act. besides, we feel less reluctance reluctance to take away a man's life, when we are heated by the injury, than to do it at a distance of time by an oath, after we have cooled.' boswell. 'so, sir, you would rather act from the motive of private passion, than that of publick advantage.' johnson. 'nay, sir, when i shoot the highwayman i act from both.' boswell. 'very well, very well.--there is no catching him.' johnson. 'at the same time one does not know what to say. for perhaps one may, a year after, hang himself from uneasiness for having shot a man[ ]. few minds are fit to be trusted with so great a thing.' boswell. 'then, sir, you would not shoot him?' johnson. 'but i might be vexed afterwards for that too[ ].' thrale's carriage not having come for him, as he expected, i accompanied him some part of the way home to his own house. i told him, that i had talked of him to mr. dunning[ ] a few days before, and had said, that in his company we did not so much interchange conversation, as listen to him; and that dunning observed, upon this, 'one is always willing to listen to dr. johnson:' to which i answered, 'that is a great deal from you, sir.'--'yes, sir, (said johnson,) a great deal indeed. here is a man willing to listen, to whom the world is listening all the rest of the year.' boswell. 'i think, sir, it is right to tell one man of such a handsome thing, which has been said of him by another. it tends to increase benevolence.' johnson. 'undoubtedly it is right, sir[ ].' on tuesday, april , i breakfasted with him at his house. he said, 'nobody was content.' i mentioned to him a respectable person[ ] in scotland whom he knew; and i asserted, that i really believed he was always content. johnson. 'no, sir, he is not content with the present; he has always some new scheme, some new plantation, something which is future. you know he was not content as a widower; for he married again.' boswell. 'but he is not restless.' johnson. 'sir, he is only locally at rest. a chymist is locally at rest; but his mind is hard at work. this gentleman has done with external exertions. it is too late for him to engage in distant projects.' boswell. 'he seems to amuse himself quite well; to have his attention fixed, and his tranquillity preserved by very small matters. i have tried this; but it would not do with me.' johnson, (laughing) 'no, sir; it must be born with a man to be contented to take up with little things. women have a great advantage that they may take up with little things, without disgracing themselves: a man cannot, except with fiddling. had i learnt to fiddle, i should have done nothing else[ ].' boswell. 'pray, sir, did you ever play on any musical instrument?' johnson. 'no, sir. i once bought me a flagelet; but i never made out a tune.' boswell. 'a flagelet, sir!--so small an instrument[ ]? i should have liked to hear you play on the violoncello. _that_ should have been _your_ instrument.' johnson. 'sir, i might as well have played on the violoncello as another; but i should have done nothing else. no, sir; a man would never undertake great things, could he be amused with small. i once tried knotting. dempster's sister undertook to teach me; but i could not learn it[ ].' boswell. 'so, sir; it will be related in pompous narrative, "once for his amusement he tried knotting; nor did this hercules disdain the distaff."' johnson. 'knitting of stockings is a good amusement. as a freeman of aberdeen[ ] i should be a knitter of stockings.' he asked me to go down with him and dine at mr. thrale's at streatham, to which i agreed. i had lent him _an account of scotland, in _, written by a man of various enquiry, an english chaplain to a regiment stationed there. johnson. 'it is sad stuff, sir, miserably written, as books in general then were. there is now an elegance of style universally diffused.[ ] no man now writes so ill as martin's _account of the hebrides_ is written. a man could not write so ill, if he should try. set a merchant's clerk now to write, and he'll do better[ ].' he talked to me with serious concern of a certain female friend's 'laxity of narration, and inattention to truth.'--'i am as much vexed (said he) at the ease with which she hears it mentioned to her, as at the thing itself. i told her, "madam, you are contented to hear every day said to you, what the highest of mankind have died for, rather than bear."--you know, sir, the highest of mankind have died rather than bear to be told they had uttered a falsehood. do talk to her of it[ ]: i am weary.' boswell. 'was not dr. john campbell a very inaccurate man in his narrative, sir? he once told me, that he drank thirteen bottles of port at a sitting.'[ ] johnson. 'why, sir, i do not know that campbell ever lied with pen and ink; but you could not entirely depend on any thing he told you in conversation: if there was fact mixed with it. however, i loved campbell: he was a solid orthodox man: he had a reverence for religion. though defective in practice, he was religious in principle; and he did nothing grossly wrong that i have heard[ ].' i told him, that i had been present the day before, when mrs. montagu, the literary lady[ ], sat to miss reynolds for her picture; and that she said, 'she had bound up mr. gibbon's _history_ without the last two offensive chapters[ ]; for that she thought the book so far good, as it gave, in an elegant manner, the substance of the bad writers _medii aevi_, which the late lord lyttelton advised her to read.' johnson. 'sir, she has not read them: she shews none of this impetuosity to me: she does not know greek, and, i fancy, knows little latin. she is willing you should think she knows them; but she does not say she does[ ].' boswell. 'mr. harris, who was present, agreed with her.' johnson. 'harris was laughing at her, sir. harris is a sound sullen scholar; he does not like interlopers. harris, however, is a prig, and a bad prig[ ]. i looked into his book[ ], and thought he did not understand his own system.' boswell. 'he says plain things in a formal and abstract way, to be sure: but his method is good: for to have clear notions upon any subject, we must have recourse to analytick arrangement.' johnson. 'sir, it is what every body does, whether they will or no. but sometimes things may be made darker by definition. i see a _cow_, i define her, _animal quadrupes ruminans cornutum_. but a goat ruminates, and a cow may have no horns. _cow_ is plainer.' boswell. 'i think dr. franklin's definition of _man_ a good one--"a tool-making animal."' johnson. 'but many a man never made a tool; and suppose a man without arms, he could not make a tool.' talking of drinking wine, he said, 'i did not leave off wine, because i could not bear it; i have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it. university college has witnessed this[ ].' boswell. 'why then, sir, did you leave it off?' johnson. 'why, sir, because it is so much better for a man to be sure that he is never to be intoxicated, never to lose the power over himself[ ]. i shall not begin to drink wine again, till i grow old, and want it.' boswell. 'i think, sir, you once said to me, that not to drink wine was a great deduction from life.' johnson. 'it is a diminution of pleasure, to be sure; but i do not say a diminution of happiness. there is more happiness in being rational.' boswell. 'but if we could have pleasure always, should not we be happy? the greatest part of men would compound for pleasure.' johnson. 'supposing we could have pleasure always, an intellectual man would not compound for it. the greatest part of men would compound, because the greatest part of men are gross.' boswell. 'i allow there may be greater pleasure than from wine. i have had more pleasure from your conversation, i have indeed; i assure you i have.' johnson. 'when we talk of pleasure, we mean sensual pleasure. when a man says, he had pleasure with a woman, he does not mean conversation, but something of a very different nature. philosophers tell you, that pleasure is _contrary_ to happiness. gross men prefer animal pleasure. so there are men who have preferred living among savages. now what a wretch must he be, who is content with such conversation as can be had among savages! you may remember an officer at fort augustus[ ], who had served in america, told us of a woman whom they were obliged to _bind_, in order to get her back from savage life.' boswell. 'she must have been an animal, a beast.' johnson. 'sir, she was a speaking cat.' i mentioned to him that i had become very weary in a company where i heard not a single intellectual sentence, except that 'a man who had been settled ten years in minorca was become a much inferiour man to what he was in london, because a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place.' johnson. 'a man's mind grows narrow in a narrow place, whose mind is enlarged only because he has lived in a large place: but what is got by books and thinking is preserved in a narrow place as well as in a large place. a man cannot know modes of life as well in minorca as in london; but he may study mathematicks as well in minorca.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir: if you had remained ten years in the isle of col, you would not have been the man that you now are.' johnson. 'yes, sir, if i had been there from fifteen to twenty-five; but not if from twenty-five to thirty-five.' boswell. 'i own, sir, the spirits which i have in london make me do every thing with more readiness and vigour. i can talk twice as much in london as any where else[ ].' of goldsmith he said, 'he was not an agreeable companion, for he talked always for fame[ ]. a man who does so never can be pleasing. the man who talks to unburthen his mind is the man to delight you. an eminent friend[ ] of ours is not so agreeable as the variety of his knowledge would otherwise make him, because he talks partly from ostentation.' soon after our arrival at thrale's, i heard one of the maids calling eagerly on another, to go to dr. johnson. i wondered what this could mean. i afterwards learnt, that it was to give her a bible, which he had brought from london as a present to her. he was for a considerable time occupied in reading _mémoires de fontenelle_, leaning and swinging upon the low gate into the court, without his hat. i looked into lord kames's _sketches of the history of man_; and mentioned to dr. johnson his censure of charles the fifth, for celebrating his funeral obsequies in his life-time, which, i told him, i had been used to think a solemn and affecting act[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, a man may dispose his mind to think so of that act of charles; but it is so liable to ridicule, that if one man out of ten thousand laughs at it, he'll make the other nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine laugh too.' i could not agree with him in this. sir john pringle had expressed a wish that i would ask dr. johnson's opinion what were the best english sermons for style. i took an opportunity to-day of mentioning several to him.--_atterbury_? johnson. 'yes, sir, one of the best.' boswell. _tillotson_? johnson. 'why, not now. i should not advise a preacher at this day to imitate tillotson's style: though i don't know; i should be cautious of objecting to what has been applauded by so many suffrages.--_south_ is one of the best, if you except his peculiarities, and his violence, and sometimes coarseness of language.--_seed_ has a very fine style; but he is not very theological.--_jortin's_ sermons are very elegant.--_sherlock's_ style too is very elegant, though he has not made it his principal study.--and you may add _smallridge_. all the latter preachers have a good style. indeed, nobody now talks much of style: every body composes pretty well.[ ] there are no such unharmonious periods as there were a hundred years ago. i should recommend dr. _clarke's_ sermons, were he orthodox.[ ] however, it is very well known _where_ he was not orthodox, which was upon the doctrine of the trinity, as to which he is a condemned heretick; so one is aware of it.' boswell. 'i like ogden's _sermons on prayer_ very much, both for neatness of style and subtilty of reasoning.' johnson. 'i should like to read all that ogden has written.'[ ] boswell. 'what i wish to know is, what sermons afford the best specimen of english pulpit eloquence.' johnson. 'we have no sermons addressed to the passions that are good for any thing; if you mean that kind of eloquence.' a clergyman: (whose name i do not recollect.) 'were not dodd's sermons addressed to the passions?' johnson. 'they were nothing, sir, be they addressed to what they may.' at dinner, mrs. thrale expressed a wish to go and see scotland. johnson. 'seeing scotland, madam, is only seeing a worse england. it is seeing the flower gradually fade away to the naked stalk. seeing the hebrides, indeed, is seeing quite a different scene.' our poor friend, mr. thomas davies[ ], was soon to have a benefit at drury-lane theatre, as some relief to his unfortunate circumstances. we were all warmly interested for his success, and had contributed to it. however, we thought there was no harm in having our joke, when he could not be hurt by it. i proposed that he should be brought on to speak a prologue upon the occasion; and i began to mutter fragments of what it might be: as, that when now grown _old_, he was obliged to cry, 'poor tom's _a-cold_[ ];'--that he owned he had been driven from the stage by a churchill, but that this was no disgrace, for a churchill[ ] had beat the french;--that he had been satyrised as 'mouthing a sentence as curs mouth a bone,' but he was now glad of a bone to pick.--'nay, (said johnson,) i would have him to say, "mad tom is come to see the world again[ ]."' he and i returned to town in the evening. upon the road, i endeavoured to maintain, in argument, that a landed gentleman is not under any obligation to reside upon his estate; and that by living in london he does no injury to his country. johnson. 'why, sir, he does no injury to his country in general, because the money which he draws from it gets back again in circulation; but to his particular district, his particular parish, he does an injury. all that he has to give away is not given to those who have the first claim to it. and though i have said that the money circulates back, it is a long time before that happens. then, sir, a man of family and estate ought to consider himself as having the charge of a district, over which he is to diffuse civility and happiness[ ].' next day i found him at home in the morning. he praised delany's _observations on swift_; said that his book and lord orrery's might both be true, though one viewed swift more, and the other less favourably; and that, between both, we might have a complete notion of swift[ ]. talking of a man's resolving to deny himself the use of wine, from moral and religious considerations, he said, 'he must not doubt about it. when one doubts as to pleasure, we know what will be the conclusion. i now no more think of drinking wine, than a horse does. the wine upon the table is no more for me, than for the dog that is under the table.'[ ] on thursday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the bishop of st. asaph,[ ] (dr. shipley,) mr. allan ramsay[ ], mr. gibbon, mr. cambridge, and mr. langton. mr. ramsay had lately returned from italy, and entertained us with his observations upon horace's villa, which he had examined with great care. i relished this much, as it brought fresh into my mind what i had viewed with great pleasure thirteen years before. the bishop, dr. johnson, and mr. cambridge, joined with mr. ramsay, in recollecting the various lines in horace relating to the subject. horace's journey to brundusium being mentioned, johnson observed, that the brook which he describes is to be seen now, exactly as at that time,[ ] and that he had often wondered how it happened, that small brooks, such as this, kept the same situation for ages, notwithstanding earthquakes, by which even mountains have been changed, and agriculture, which produces such a variation upon the surface of the earth. cambridge. 'a spanish writer has this thought in a poetical conceit. after observing that most of the solid structures of rome are totally perished, while the tiber remains the same, he adds, '_lo que èra firme huió solamente, lo fugitivo permanece y dura_[ ].' johnson. 'sir, that is taken from janus vitalis:[ ] '... _immota labescunt; et quae perpetuò sunt agitata manent_[ ].' the bishop said, it appeared from horace's writings that he was a cheerful contented man. johnson. 'we have no reason to believe that, my lord. are we to think pope was happy, because he says so in his writings? we see in his writings what he wished the state of his mind to appear. dr. young, who pined for preferment, talks with contempt of it in his writings, and affects to despise every thing that he did not despise.'[ ] bishop of st. asaph. 'he was like other chaplains, looking for vacancies: but that is not peculiar to the clergy. i remember when i was with the army,[ ] after the battle of lafeldt, the officers seriously grumbled that no general was killed.' cambridge. 'we may believe horace more when he says, "_romae tibur amem, ventosus tibure romam_[ ];" than when he boasts of his consistency: "_me constare mihi scis, et decedere tristem, quandocunque trahunt invisa negotia romam_[ ]."' boswell. 'how hard is it that man can never be at rest.' ramsay. 'it is not in his nature to be at rest. when he is at rest, he is in the worst state that he can be in; for he has nothing to agitate him. he is then like the man in the irish song, "there liv'd a young man in ballinacrazy. who wanted a wife for to make him un_ai_sy."' goldsmith being mentioned, johnson observed, that it was long before his merit came to be acknowledged. that he once complained to him, in ludicrous terms of distress, 'whenever i write any thing, the publick _make a point_ to know nothing about it:' but that his _traveller_ brought him into high reputation.[ ] langton. 'there is not one bad line in that poem; not one of dryden's careless verses.' sir joshua. 'i was glad to hear charles fox say, it was one of the finest poems in the english language.' langton. 'why was you glad? you surely had no doubt of this before.' johnson. 'no; the merit of _the traveller_ is so well established, that mr. fox's praise cannot augment it, nor his censure diminish it.'[ ] sir joshua. 'but his friends may suspect they had too great a partiality for him.' johnson. 'nay, sir, the partiality of his friends was always against him. it was with difficulty we could give him a hearing. goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so he talked always at random[ ]. it seemed to be his intention to blurt out whatever was in his mind, and see what would become of it. he was angry too, when catched in an absurdity; but it did not prevent him from falling into another the next minute. i remember chamier[ ], after talking with him for some time, said, "well, i do believe he wrote this poem himself: and, let me tell you, that is believing a great deal." chamier once asked him, what he meant by _slow_, the last word in the first line of _the traveller_, '"remote, unfriended, melancholy, slow." 'did he mean tardiness of locomotion? goldsmith, who would say something without consideration, answered, "yes." i was sitting by, and said, "no, sir; you do not mean tardiness of locomotion; you mean, that sluggishness of mind which comes upon a man in solitude[ ]." chamier believed then that i had written the line as much as if he had seen me write it.[ ] goldsmith, however, was a man, who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. he deserved a place in westminster-abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved it better. he had, indeed, been at no pains to fill his mind with knowledge. he transplanted it from one place to another; and it did not settle in his mind; so he could not tell what was in his own books.' we talked of living in the country. johnson. 'no wise man will go to live in the country, unless he has something to do which can be better done in the country. for instance: if he is to shut himself up for a year to study a science, it is better to look out to the fields, than to an opposite wall. then, if a man walks out in the country, there is nobody to keep him from walking in again: but if a man walks out in london, he is not sure when he shall walk in again. a great city is, to be sure, the school for studying life; and "the proper study of mankind is man," as pope observes.'[ ] boswell. 'i fancy london is the best place for society; though i have heard that the very first society of paris is still beyond any thing that we have here.' johnson. 'sir, i question if in paris such a company as is sitting round this table could be got together in less than half a year. they talk in france of the felicity of men and women living together: the truth is, that there the men are not higher than the women, they know no more than the women do, and they are not held down in their conversation by the presence of women[ ].' ramsay. 'literature is upon the growth, it is in its spring in france. here it is rather _passée_.' johnson. 'literature was in france long before we had it. paris was the second city for the revival of letters: italy had it first, to be sure. what have we done for literature, equal to what was done by the stephani and others in france? our literature came to us through france. caxton printed only two books, chaucer and gower, that were not translations from the french; and chaucer, we know, took much from the italians. no, sir, if literature be in its spring in france, it is a second spring; it is after a winter. we are now before the french in literature[ ]; but we had it long after them. in england, any man who wears a sword and a powdered wig is ashamed to be illiterate[ ]. i believe it is not so in france. yet there is, probably, a great deal of learning in france, because they have such a number of religious establishments; so many men who have nothing else to do but to study. i do not know this; but i take it upon the common principles of chance. where there are many shooters, some will hit.' we talked of old age[ ]. johnson (now in his seventieth year,) said, 'it is a man's own fault, it is from want of use, if his mind grows torpid in old age.' the bishop asked, if an old man does not lose faster than he gets. johnson. 'i think not, my lord, if he exerts himself.' one of the company rashly observed, that he thought it was happy for an old man that insensibility comes upon him. johnson: (with a noble elevation and disdain,) 'no, sir, i should never be happy by being less rational.' bishop of st. asaph. 'your wish then, sir, is [greek: gaeraskein didaskomenos][ ].' johnson. 'yes, my lord.' his lordship mentioned a charitable establishment in wales, where people were maintained, and supplied with every thing, upon the condition of their contributing the weekly produce of their labour; and he said, they grew quite torpid for want of property. johnson. 'they have no object for hope. their condition cannot be better. it is rowing without a port.' one of the company asked him the meaning of the expression in juvenal, _unius lacertæ_. johnson. 'i think it clear enough; as much ground as one may have a chance to find a lizard upon.' commentators have differed as to the exact meaning of the expression by which the poet intended to enforce the sentiment contained in the passage where these words occur. it is enough that they mean to denote even a very small possession, provided it be a man's own: '_est aliquid quocunque loco quocunque recessu, unius sese dominum fecisse lacertæ_[ ].' this season there was a whimsical fashion in the newspapers of applying shakspeare's words to describe living persons well known in the world; which was done under the title of _modern characters from shakspeare_; many of which were admirably adapted. the fancy took so much, that they were afterwards collected into a pamphlet[ ]. somebody said to johnson, across the table, that he had not been in those characters. 'yes (said he) i have. i should have been sorry to be left out.' he then repeated what had been applied to him, 'i must borrow garagantua's mouth[ ].' miss reynolds not perceiving at once the meaning of this, he was obliged to explain it to her, which had something of an aukward and ludicrous effect. 'why, madam, it has a reference to me, as using big words, which require the mouth of a giant to pronounce them. garagantua is the name of a giant in _rabelais_.' boswell. 'but, sir, there is another amongst them for you: "he would not flatter neptune for his trident, or jove for his power to thunder[ ]."' johnson. 'there is nothing marked in that. no, sir, garagantua is the best.' notwithstanding this ease and good humour, when i, a little while afterwards, repeated his sarcasm on kenrick[ ], which was received with applause, he asked, '_who_ said that?' and on my suddenly answering, _garagantua_, he looked serious, which was a sufficient indication that he did not wish it to be kept up. when we went to the drawing-room there was a rich assemblage. besides the company who had been at dinner, there were mr. garrick, mr. harris of salisbury, dr. percy, dr. burney, honourable mrs. cholmondeley, miss hannah more, &c. &c. after wandering about in a kind of pleasing distraction for some time, i got into a corner, with johnson, garrick, and harris. garrick: (to harris.) 'pray, sir, have you read potter's _aeschylus_?' harris. 'yes; and think it pretty.' garrick. (to johnson.) 'and what think you, sir, of it?' johnson. 'i thought what i read of it _verbiage_[ ]: but upon mr. harris's recommendation, i will read a play. (to mr. harris.) don't prescribe two.' mr. harris suggested one, i do not remember which. johnson. 'we must try its effect as an english poem; that is the way to judge of the merit of a translation. translations are, in general, for people who cannot read the original.' i mentioned the vulgar saying[ ], that pope's _homer_ was not a good representation of the original. johnson. 'sir, it is the greatest work of the kind that has ever been produced[ ].' boswell. 'the truth is, it is impossible perfectly to translate poetry[ ]. in a different language it may be the same tune, but it has not the same tone. homer plays it on a bassoon; pope on a flagelet.' harris. 'i think heroick poetry is best in blank verse; yet it appears that rhyme is essential to english poetry, from our deficiency in metrical quantities. in my opinion, the chief excellence of our language is numerous prose.' johnson. 'sir william temple was the first writer who gave cadence to english prose[ ]. before his time they were careless of arrangement, and did not mind whether a sentence ended with an important word or an insignificant word, or with what part of speech it was concluded.' mr. langton, who now had joined us, commended clarendon. johnson. 'he is objected to for his parentheses, his involved clauses, and his want of harmony. but he is supported by his matter. it is, indeed, owing to a plethory of matter that his style is so faulty[ ]. every _substance_, (smiling to mr. harris[ ],) has so many _accidents_.--to be distinct, we must talk _analytically_. if we analyse language, we must speak of it grammatically; if we analyse argument, we must speak of it logically.' garrick. 'of all the translations that ever were attempted, i think elphinston's _martial_ the most extraordinary[ ]. he consulted me upon it, who am a little of an epigrammatist myself, you know. i told him freely, "you don't seem to have that turn." i asked him if he was serious; and finding he was, i advised him against publishing. why, his translation is more difficult to understand than the original. i thought him a man of some talents; but he seems crazy in this.' johnson. 'sir, you have done what i had not courage to do. but he did not ask my advice, and i did not force it upon him, to make him angry with me.' garrick. 'but as a friend, sir--' johnson. 'why, such a friend as i am with him--no.' garrick. 'but if you see a friend going to tumble over a precipice?' johnson. 'that is an extravagant case, sir. you are sure a friend will thank you for hindering him from tumbling over a precipice; but, in the other case, i should hurt his vanity, and do him no good. he would not take my advice. his brother-in-law, strahan, sent him a subscription of fifty pounds, and said he would send him fifty more, if he would not publish.' garrick. 'what! is strahan a good judge of an epigram? is not he rather an _obtuse_ man, eh?' johnson. 'why, sir, he may not be a judge of an epigram: but you see he is a judge of what is _not_ an epigram.' boswell. 'it is easy for you, mr. garrick, to talk to an authour as you talked to elphinston; you, who have been so long the manager of a theatre, rejecting the plays of poor authours. you are an old judge, who have often pronounced sentence of death. you are a practiced surgeon, who have often amputated limbs; and though this may have been for the good of your patients, they cannot like you. those who have undergone a dreadful operation, are not very fond of seeing the operator again.' garrick. 'yes, i know enough of that. there was a reverend gentleman, (mr. hawkins,) who wrote a tragedy, the siege of something[ ], which i refused.' harris. 'so, the siege was raised.' johnson. 'ay, he came to me and complained; and told me, that garrick said his play was wrong in the _concoction_. now, what is the concoction of a play?' (here garrick started, and twisted himself, and seemed sorely vexed; for johnson told me, he believed the story was true.) garrick. 'i--i--i--said _first_ concoction[ ].' johnson: (smiling.) 'well, he left out _first_. and rich[ ], he said, refused him _in false english_: he could shew it under his hand.' garrick. 'he wrote to me in violent wrath, for having refused his play: "sir, this is growing a very serious and terrible affair. i am resolved to publish my play. i will appeal to the world; and how will your judgement appear?" i answered, "sir, notwithstanding all the seriousness, and all the terrours, i have no objection to your publishing your play; and as you live at a great distance, (devonshire, i believe,) if you will send it to me, i will convey it to the press[ ]." i never heard more of it, ha! ha! ha!' on friday, april , i found johnson at home in the morning. we resumed the conversation of yesterday. he put me in mind of some of it which had escaped my memory, and enabled me to record it more perfectly than i otherwise could have done. he was much pleased with my paying so great attention to his recommendation in , the period when our acquaintance began, that i should keep a journal[ ]; and i could perceive he was secretly pleased to find so much of the fruit of his mind preserved; and as he had been used to imagine and say that he always laboured when he said a good thing[ ]--it delighted him, on a review, to find that his conversation teemed with point and imagery[ ]. i said to him, 'you were yesterday, sir, in remarkably good humour[ ]: but there was nothing to offend you, nothing to produce irritation or violence. there was no bold offender. there was not one capital conviction. it was a maiden assize. you had on your white gloves.' he found fault with our friend langton for having been too silent. 'sir, (said i,) you will recollect, that he very properly took up sir joshua for being glad that charles fox had praised goldsmith's _traveller_, and you joined him.' johnson. 'yes, sir, i knocked fox on the head, without ceremony. reynolds is too much under fox and burke at present. he is under the _fox star_ and the _irish constellation_. he is always under some planet[ ].' boswell. 'there is no fox star.' johnson. 'but there is a dog star.' boswell. 'they say, indeed, a fox and a dog are the same animal.' i reminded him of a gentleman, who, mrs. cholmondeley said, was first talkative from affectation, and then silent from the same cause; that he first thought, 'i shall be celebrated as the liveliest man in every company;' and then, all at once, 'o! it is much more respectable to be grave and look wise.' 'he has reversed the pythagorean discipline, by being first talkative, and then silent. he reverses the course of nature too: he was first the gay butterfly, and then the creeping worm.' johnson laughed loud and long at this expansion and illustration of what he himself had told me. we dined together with mr. scott (now sir william scott[ ], his majesty's advocate general,) at his chambers in the temple, nobody else there. the company being small, johnson was not in such spirits as he had been the preceding day, and for a considerable time little was said. at last he burst forth, 'subordination is sadly broken down in this age. no man, now, has the same authority which his father had,--except a gaoler. no master has it over his servants: it is diminished in our colleges; nay, in our grammar-schools.' boswell. 'what is the cause of this, sir?' johnson. 'why the coming in of the scotch,' (laughing sarcastically). boswell. 'that is to say, things have been turned topsy turvey.--but your serious cause.' johnson. 'why, sir, there are many causes, the chief of which is, i think, the great increase of money. no man now depends upon the lord of a manour, when he can send to another country, and fetch provisions. the shoe-black at the entry of my court does not depend on me. i can deprive him but of a penny a day, which he hopes somebody else will bring him; and that penny i must carry to another shoe-black[ ], so the trade suffers nothing. i have explained, in my _journey to the hebrides_, how gold and silver destroy feudal subordination[ ]. but, besides, there is a general relaxation of reverence. no son now depends upon his father as in former times. paternity used to be considered as of itself a great thing, which had a right to many claims. that is, in general, reduced to very small bounds. my hope is, that as anarchy produces tyranny, this extreme relaxation will produce _freni strictio_[ ].' talking of fame, for which there is so great a desire, i observed how little there is of it in reality, compared with the other objects of human attention. 'let every man recollect, and he will be sensible how small a part of his time is employed in talking or thinking of shakspeare, voltaire, or any of the most celebrated men that have ever lived, or are now supposed to occupy the attention and admiration of the world. let this be extracted and compressed; into what a narrow space will it go[ ]!' i then slily introduced mr. garrick's fame, and his assuming the airs of a great man[ ]. johnson. 'sir, it is wonderful how _little_ garrick assumes. no, sir, garrick _fortunam reverenter habet_[ ]. consider, sir: celebrated men, such as you have mentioned, have had their applause at a distance; but garrick had it dashed in his face, sounded in his ears, and went home every night with the plaudits of a thousand in his _cranium_. then, sir, garrick did not _find_, but _made_ his way to the tables, the levees, and almost the bed-chambers of the great. then, sir, garrick had under him a numerous body of people; who, from fear of his power, and hopes of his favour, and admiration of his talents, were constantly submissive to him. and here is a man who has advanced the dignity of his profession. garrick has made a player a higher character.' scott. 'and he is a very sprightly writer too.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and all this supported by great wealth of his own acquisition. if all this had happened to me, i should have had a couple of fellows with long poles walking before me, to knock down every body that stood in the way. consider, if all this had happened to cibber or quin[ ] they'd have jumped over the moon.--yet garrick speaks to _us_[ ].' (smiling.) boswell. 'and garrick is a very good man, a charitable man.' johnson. 'sir, a liberal man. he has given away more money than any man in england[ ]. there may be a little vanity mixed; but he has shewn, that money is not his first object.' boswell. 'yet foote used to say of him, that he walked out with an intention to do a generous action; but, turning the corner of a street, he met with the ghost of a halfpenny, which frightened him.' johnson. 'why, sir, that is very true, too; for i never knew a man of whom it could be said with less certainty to-day, what he will do to-morrow, than garrick; it depends so much on his humour at the time.' scott. 'i am glad to hear of his liberality. he has been represented as very saving.' johnson. 'with his domestick saving we have nothing to do. i remember drinking tea with him long ago, when peg woffington made it, and he grumbled at her for making it too strong[ ]. he had then begun to feel money in his purse, and did not know when he should have enough of it[ ].' on the subject of wealth, the proper use of it, and the effects of that art which is called oeconomy, he observed: 'it is wonderful to think how men of very large estates not only spend their yearly incomes, but are often actually in want of money. it is clear, they have not value for what they spend. lord shelburne[ ] told me, that a man of high rank, who looks into his own affairs, may have all that he ought to have, all that can be of any use, or appear with any advantage, for five thousand pounds a year. therefore, a great proportion must go in waste; and, indeed, this is the case with most people, whatever their fortune is.' boswell. 'i have no doubt, sir, of this. but how is it? what is waste?' johnson. 'why, sir, breaking bottles, and a thousand other things. waste cannot be accurately told, though we are sensible how destructive it is. oeconomy on the one hand, by which a certain income is made to maintain a man genteely, and waste on the other, by which, on the same income, another man lives shabbily, cannot be defined. it is a very nice thing: as one man wears his coat out much sooner than another, we cannot tell how.' we talked of war. johnson. 'every man thinks meanly of himself for not having been a soldier, or not having been at sea.' boswell. 'lord mansfield does not.' johnson. 'sir, if lord mansfield were in a company of general officers and admirals who have been in service, he would shrink; he'd wish to creep under the table.' boswell. 'no; he'd think he could _try_ them all.' johnson. 'yes, if he could catch them: but they'd try him much sooner. no, sir; were socrates and charles the twelfth of sweden both present in any company, and socrates to say, "follow me, and hear a lecture on philosophy;" and charles, laying his hand on his sword, to say, "follow me, and dethrone the czar;" a man would be ashamed to follow socrates. sir, the impression is universal[ ]; yet it is strange. as to the sailor, when you look down from the quarter deck to the space below, you see the utmost extremity of human misery; such crouding, such filth, such stench[ ]!' boswell. 'yet sailors are happy.' johnson. 'they are happy as brutes are happy, with a piece of fresh meat,--with the grossest sensuality. but, sir, the profession of soldiers and sailors has the dignity of danger. mankind reverence those who have got over fear[ ], which is so general a weakness.' scott. 'but is not courage mechanical, and to be acquired?' johnson. 'why yes, sir, in a collective sense. soldiers consider themselves only as parts of a great machine[ ].' scott. 'we find people fond of being sailors.' johnson. 'i cannot account for that, any more than i can account for other strange perversions of imagination.' his abhorrence of the profession of a sailor was uniformly violent[ ]; but in conversation he always exalted the profession of a soldier. and yet i have, in my large and various collection of his writings, a letter to an eminent friend, in which he expresses himself thus: 'my god-son called on me lately. he is weary, and rationally weary, of a military life. if you can place him in some other state, i think you may increase his happiness, and secure his virtue. a soldier's time is passed in distress and danger, or in idleness and corruption.' such was his cool reflection in his study[ ]; but whenever he was warmed and animated by the presence of company, he, like other philosophers, whose minds are impregnated with poetical fancy, caught the common enthusiasm for splendid renown[ ]. he talked of mr. charles fox, of whose abilities he thought highly, but observed, that he did not talk much at our club. i have heard mr. gibbon remark, 'that mr. fox could not be afraid of dr. johnson; yet he certainly was very shy of saying any thing in dr. johnson's presence[ ].' mr. scott now quoted what was said of alcibiades by a greek poet[ ], to which johnson assented. he told us, that he had given mrs. montagu a catalogue of all daniel defoe's works of imagination; most, if not all of which, as well as of his other works, he now enumerated, allowing a considerable share of merit to a man, who, bred a tradesman, had written so variously and so well. indeed, his _robinson crusoe_ is enough of itself to establish his reputation[ ]. he expressed great indignation at the imposture of the cocklane ghost, and related, with much satisfaction, how he had assisted in detecting the cheat, and had published an account of it in the news-papers[ ]. upon this subject i incautiously offended him, by pressing him with too many questions, and he shewed his displeasure. i apologised, saying that 'i asked questions in order to be instructed and entertained; i repaired eagerly to the fountain; but that the moment he gave me a hint, the moment he put a lock upon the well, i desisted.'--'but, sir, (said he,) that is forcing one to do a disagreeable thing:' and he continued to rate me. 'nay, sir, (said i,) when you have put a lock upon the well, so that i can no longer drink, do not make the fountain of your wit play upon me and wet me.' he sometimes could not bear being teazed with questions[ ]. i was once present when a gentleman asked so many as, 'what did you do, sir?' 'what did you say, sir?' that he at last grew enraged, and said, 'i will not be put to the _question_. don't you consider, sir, that these are not the manners of a gentleman? i will not be baited with _what_, and _why_; what is this? what is that? why is a cow's tail long? why is a fox's tail bushy?' the gentleman, who was a good deal out of countenance, said, 'why, sir, you are so good, that i venture to trouble you.' johnson. 'sir, my being so _good_ is no reason why you should be so _ill_.' talking of the justitia hulk at woolwich, in which criminals were punished, by being confined to labour, he said, 'i do not see that they are punished by this: they must have worked equally had they never been guilty of stealing[ ]. they now only work; so, after all, they have gained; what they stole is clear gain to them; the confinement is nothing. every man who works is confined: the smith to his shop, the tailor to his garret.' boswell. 'and lord mansfield to his court.' johnson. 'yes, sir, you know the notion of confinement may be extended, as in the song, "every island is a prison[ ]." there is, in dodsley's _collection_, a copy of verses to the authour of that song[ ].' smith's latin verses on pococke, the great traveller,[ ] were mentioned. he repeated some of them, and said they were smith's best verses. he talked with an uncommon animation of travelling into distant countries; that the mind was enlarged by it, and that an acquisition of dignity of character was derived from it. he expressed a particular enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of china. i catched it for the moment[ ], and said i really believed i should go and see the wall of china had i not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. 'sir, (said he,) by doing so, you would do what would be of importance in raising your children to eminence. there would be a lustre reflected upon them from your spirit and curiosity. they would be at all times regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of china. i am serious, sir.' when we had left mr. scott's, he said, 'will you go home with me?' 'sir, (said i,) it is late; but i'll go with you for three minutes.' johnson. 'or _four_.' we went to mrs. williams's room, where we found mr. allen the printer, who was the landlord of his house in bolt-court, a worthy obliging man, and his very old acquaintance; and what was exceedingly amusing, though he was of a very diminutive size, he used, even in johnson's presence, to imitate the stately periods and slow and solemn utterance of the great man[ ].--i this evening boasted, that although i did not write what is called stenography, or short-hand, in appropriated characters devised for the purpose, i had a method of my own of writing half words, and leaving out some altogether so as yet to keep the substance and language of any discourse which i had heard so much in view, that i could give it very completely soon after i had taken it down. he defied me, as he had once defied an actual short-hand writer[ ], and he made the experiment by reading slowly and distinctly a part of robertson's _history of america_, while i endeavoured to write it in my way of taking notes. it was found that i had it very imperfectly; the conclusion from which was, that its excellence was principally owing to a studied arrangement of words, which could not be varied or abridged without an essential injury. on sunday, april , i found him at home before dinner; dr. dodd's poem entitled _thoughts in prison_ was lying upon his table. this appearing to me an extraordinary effort by a man who was in newgate for a capital crime, i was desirous to hear johnson's opinion of it: to my surprize, he told me he had not read a line of it. i took up the book and read a passage to him. johnson. 'pretty well, if you are previously disposed to like them.' i read another passage, with which he was better pleased. he then took the book into his own hands, and having looked at the prayer at the end of it, he said, 'what _evidence_ is there that this was composed the night before he suffered? _i_ do not believe it.' he then read aloud where he prays for the king, &c. and observed, 'sir, do you think that a man the night before he is to be hanged cares for the succession of a royal family[ ]?--though, he _may_ have composed this prayer, then. a man who has been canting all his life, may cant to the last[ ].--and yet a man who has been refused a pardon after so much petitioning, would hardly be praying thus fervently for the king.' he and i, and mrs. williams, went to dine with the reverend dr. percy. talking of goldsmith, johnson said, he was very envious[ ]. i defended him, by observing that he owned it frankly upon all occasions. johnson. 'sir, you are enforcing the charge. he had so much envy, that he could not conceal it. he was so full of it that he overflowed. he talked of it to be sure often enough. now, sir, what a man avows, he is not ashamed to think; though many a man thinks, what he is ashamed to avow. we are all envious naturally[ ]; but by checking envy, we get the better of it. so we are all thieves naturally; a child always tries to get at what it wants, the nearest way; by good instruction and good habits this is cured, till a man has not even an inclination to seize what is another's; has no struggle with himself about it.' and here i shall record a scene of too much heat between dr. johnson and dr. percy, which i should have suppressed, were it not that it gave occasion to display the truely tender and benevolent heart of johnson, who, as soon as he found a friend was at all hurt by any thing which he had 'said in his wrath,' was not only prompt and desirous to be reconciled, but exerted himself to make ample reparation[ ]. books of travels having been mentioned, johnson praised pennant very highly, as he did at dunvegan, in the isle of sky[ ]. dr. percy, knowing himself to be the heir male of the ancient percies,[ ] and having the warmest and most dutiful attachment to the noble house of northumberland, could not sit quietly and hear a man praised, who had spoken disrespectfully of alnwick-castle and the duke's pleasure grounds, especially as he thought meanly of his travels. he therefore opposed johnson eagerly. johnson. 'pennant in what he has said of alnwick, has done what he intended; he has made you very angry.' percy. 'he has said the garden is _trim_[ ], which is representing it like a citizen's parterre, when the truth is, there is a very large extent of fine turf and gravel walks.' johnson. 'according to your own account, sir, pennant is right. it _is_ trim. here is grass cut close, and gravel rolled smooth. is not that trim? the extent is nothing against that; a mile may be as trim as a square yard. your extent puts me in mind of the citizen's enlarged dinner, two pieces of roast-beef, and two puddings[ ]. there is no variety, no mind exerted in laying out the ground, no trees[ ].' percy. 'he pretends to give the natural history of northumberland, and yet takes no notice of the immense number of trees planted there of late.' johnson. 'that, sir, has nothing to do with the _natural history_; that is _civil_ history. a man who gives the natural history of the oak, is not to tell how many oaks have been planted in this place or that. a man who gives the natural history of the cow, is not to tell how many cows are milked at islington. the animal is the same, whether milked in the park or at islington.' percy. 'pennant does not describe well; a carrier who goes along the side of lochlomond would describe it better.' johnson. 'i think he describes very well.' percy. 'i travelled after him.' johnson. 'and _i_ travelled after him.' percy. 'but, my good friend, you are short-sighted, and do not see so well as i do.' i wondered at dr. percy's venturing thus. dr. johnson said nothing at the time; but inflammable particles were collecting for a cloud to burst. in a little while dr. percy said something more in disparagement of pennant. johnson. (pointedly) 'this is the resentment of a narrow mind, because he did not find every thing in northumberland.' percy. (feeling the stroke) 'sir, you may be as rude as you please.' johnson. 'hold, sir! don't talk of rudeness; remember, sir, you told me (puffing hard with passion struggling for a vent) i was short-sighted[ ]. we have done with civility. we are to be as rude as we please.' percy. 'upon my honour, sir, i did not mean to be uncivil.' johnson. 'i cannot say so, sir; for i _did_ mean to be uncivil, thinking _you_ had been uncivil.' dr. percy rose, ran up to him, and taking him by the hand, assured him affectionately that his meaning had been misunderstood; upon which a reconciliation instantly took place. johnson. 'my dear sir, i am willing you shall _hang_ pennant.' percy. (resuming the former subject) 'pennant complains that the helmet is not hung out to invite to the hall of hospitality[ ]. now i never heard that it was a custom to hang out a _helmet_[ ].' johnson. 'hang him up, hang him up.' boswell. (humouring the joke) 'hang out his skull instead of a helmet, and you may drink ale out of it in your hall of odin, as he is your enemy; that will be truly ancient. _there_ will be _northern antiquities_[ ].' johnson. 'he's a _whig_, sir; a _sad dog_. (smiling at his own violent expressions, merely for _political_ difference of opinion.) but he's the best traveller i ever read; he observes more things than any one else does.' i could not help thinking that this was too high praise of a writer who had traversed a wide extent of country in such haste, that he could put together only curt frittered fragments of his own, and afterwards procured supplemental intelligence from parochial ministers, and others not the best qualified or most impartial narrators, whose ungenerous prejudice against the house of stuart glares in misrepresentation; a writer, who at best treats merely of superficial objects, and shews no philosophical investigation of character and manners, such as johnson has exhibited in his masterly _journey_, over part of the same ground; and who it should seem from a desire of ingratiating himself with the scotch, has flattered the people of north-britain so inordinately and with so little discrimination, that the judicious and candid amongst them must be disgusted, while they value more the plain, just, yet kindly report of johnson. having impartially censured mr. pennant, as a traveller in scotland, let me allow him, from authorities much better than mine, his deserved praise as an able zoologist; and let me also from my own understanding and feelings, acknowledge the merit of his _london_, which, though said to be not quite accurate in some particulars, is one of the most pleasing topographical performances that ever appeared in any language. mr. pennant, like his countrymen in general[ ], has the true spirit of a _gentleman_. as a proof of it, i shall quote from his _london_ the passage, in which he speaks of my illustrious friend. 'i must by no means omit _bolt-court_, the long residence of doctor samuel johnson, a man of the strongest natural abilities, great learning, a most retentive memory, of the deepest and most unaffected piety and morality, mingled with those numerous weaknesses and prejudices which his friends have kindly taken care to draw from their dread abode[ ]. i brought on myself his transient anger, by observing that in his tour in _scotland_, he once had "long and woeful experience of oats being the food of men in _scotland_ as they were of horses in _england_."' it was a national reflection unworthy of him, and i shot my bolt. in return he gave me a tender hug[ ]. _con amore_ he also said of me '_the dog is a whig_[ ];' i admired the virtues of lord _russell_, and pitied his fall. i should have been a whig at the revolution. there have been periods since, in which i should have been, what i now am, a moderate tory, a supporter, as far as my little influence extends, of a well-poised balance between the crown and people: but should the scale preponderate against the _salus populi_, that moment may it be said '_the dog's a whig_!' we had a calm after the storm, staid the evening and supped, and were pleasant and gay. but dr. percy told me he was very uneasy at what had passed; for there was a gentleman there who was acquainted with the northumberland family, to whom he hoped to have appeared more respectable, by shewing how intimate he was with dr. johnson, and who might now, on the contrary, go away with an opinion to his disadvantage. he begged i would mention this to dr. johnson, which i afterwards did. his observation upon it was, 'this comes of _stratagem_; had he told me that he wished to appear to advantage before that gentleman, he should have been at the top of the house, all the time.' he spoke of dr. percy in the handsomest terms. 'then, sir, (said i,) may i be allowed to suggest a mode by which you may effectually counteract any unfavourable report of what passed. i will write a letter to you upon the subject of the unlucky contest of that day, and you will be kind enough to put in writing as an answer to that letter, what you have now said, and as lord percy is to dine with us at general paoli's soon, i will take an opportunity to read the correspondence in his lordship's presence.' this friendly scheme was accordingly carried into execution without dr. percy's knowledge. johnson's letter placed dr. percy's unquestionable merit in the fairest point of view; and i contrived that lord percy should hear the correspondence, by introducing it at general paoli's, as an instance of dr. johnson's kind disposition towards one in whom his lordship was interested. thus every unfavourable impression was obviated that could possibly have been made on those by whom he wished most to be regarded. i breakfasted the day after with him, and informed him of my scheme, and its happy completion, for which he thanked me in the warmest terms, and was highly delighted with dr. johnson's letter in his praise, of which i gave him a copy. he said, 'i would rather have this than degrees from all the universities in europe. it will be for me, and my children and grand-children.' dr. johnson having afterwards asked me if i had given him a copy of it, and being told i had, was offended, and insisted that i should get it back, which i did. as, however, he did not desire me to destroy either the original or the copy, or forbid me to let it be seen, i think myself at liberty to apply to it his general declaration to me concerning his other letters, 'that he did not choose they should be published in his lifetime; but had no objection to their appearing after his death[ ].' i shall therefore insert this kindly correspondence, having faithfully narrated the circumstances accompanying it[ ]. 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'my dear sir, 'i beg leave to address you in behalf of our friend dr. percy, who was much hurt by what you said to him that day we dined at his house[ ]; when, in the course of the dispute as to pennant's merit as a traveller, you told percy that "he had the resentment of a narrow mind against pennant, because he did not find every thing in northumberland." percy is sensible that you did not mean to injure him; but he is vexed to think that your behaviour to him upon that occasion may be interpreted as a proof that he is despised by you, which i know is not the case. i have told him, that the charge of being narrow-minded was only as to the particular point in question; and that he had the merit of being a martyr to his noble family. 'earl percy is to dine with general paoli next friday; and i should be sincerely glad to have it in my power to satisfy his lordship how well you think of dr. percy, who, i find, apprehends that your good opinion of him may be of very essential consequence; and who assures me, that he has the highest respect and the warmest affection for you. 'i have only to add, that my suggesting this occasion for the exercise of your candour and generosity, is altogether unknown to dr. percy, and proceeds from my good-will towards him, and my persuasion that you will be happy to do him an essential kindness. i am, more and more, my dear sir, 'your most faithful 'and affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' * * * * * 'to james boswell, esq. 'sir, 'the debate between dr. percy and me is one of those foolish controversies, which begin upon a question of which neither party cares how it is decided, and which is, nevertheless, continued to acrimony, by the vanity with which every man resists confutation[ ]. dr. percy's warmth proceeded from a cause which, perhaps, does him more honour than he could have derived from juster criticism. his abhorrence of pennant proceeded from his opinion that pennant had wantonly and indecently censured his patron. his anger made him resolve, that, for having been once wrong, he never should be right. pennant has much in his notions that i do not like; but still i think him a very intelligent traveller. if percy is really offended, i am sorry; for he is a man whom i never knew to offend any one. he is a man very willing to learn, and very able to teach; a man, out of whose company i never go without having learned something. it is sure that he vexes me sometimes, but i am afraid it is by making me feel my own ignorance. so much extension of mind, and so much minute accuracy of enquiry, if you survey your whole circle of acquaintance, you will find so scarce, if you find it at all, that you will value percy by comparison. lord hailes is somewhat like him: but lord hailes does not, perhaps, go beyond him in research; and i do not know that he equals him in elegance. percy's attention to poetry has given grace and splendour to his studies of antiquity. a mere antiquarian is a rugged being. 'upon the whole, you see that what i might say in sport or petulance to him, is very consistent with full conviction of his merit. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' 'to the reverend dr. percy, northumberland-house. 'dear sir, 'i wrote to dr. johnson on the subject of the _pennantian_ controversy; and have received from him an answer which will delight you. i read it yesterday to dr. robertson, at the exhibition; and at dinner to lord percy, general oglethorpe, &c. who dined with us at general paoli's; who was also a witness to the high _testimony_ to your honour. 'general paoli desires the favour of your company next tuesday to dinner, to meet dr. johnson. if i can, i will call on you to-day. i am, with sincere regard, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'james boswell[ ].' 'south audley-street, april .' on monday, april , i dined with johnson at mr. langton's, where were dr. porteus, then bishop of chester, now of london, and dr. stinton[ ]. he was at first in a very silent mood. before dinner he said nothing but 'pretty baby,' to one of the children. langton said very well to me afterwards, that he could repeat johnson's conversation before dinner, as johnson had said that he could repeat a complete chapter of _the natural history of iceland_, from the danish of _horrebow_, the whole of which was exactly thus:-- 'chap. lxxii. _concerning snakes_. 'there are no snakes to be met with throughout the whole island[ ].' at dinner we talked of another mode in the newspapers[ ] of giving modern characters in sentences from the classicks, and of the passage 'pareus deorum cultor, et infrequens, insanientis dum sapientiæ consultus erro, nunc retrorsùm vela dare, atque iterare cursus cogor relictos[ ]:' being well applied to soame jenyns; who, after having wandered in the wilds of infidelity, had returned to the christian faith[ ]. mr. langton asked johnson as to the propriety of _sapientiæ consultus_. johnson. 'though _consultus_ was primarily an adjective, like _amicus_ it came to be used as a substantive. so we have _juris consultus_, a consult in law.' we talked of the styles of different painters, and how certainly a connoisseur could distinguish them; i asked, if there was as clear a difference of styles in language as in painting, or even as in hand-writing, so that the composition of every individual may be distinguished? johnson. 'yes. those who have a style of eminent excellence, such as dryden and milton, can always be distinguished.' i had no doubt of this, but what i wanted to know was, whether there was really a peculiar style to every man whatever, as there is certainly a peculiar handwriting, a peculiar countenance, not widely different in many, yet always enough to be distinctive:-- '... _facies non omnibus una, nec diversa tamen_[ ].' the bishop thought not; and said, he supposed that many pieces in dodsley's collection of poems, though all very pretty, had nothing appropriated in their style, and in that particular could not be at all distinguished. johnson. 'why, sir, i think every man whatever has a peculiar style[ ], which may be discovered by nice examination and comparison with others: but a man must write a great deal to make his style obviously discernible. as logicians say, this appropriation of style is infinite in _potestate_, limited _in actu_.' mr. topham beauclerk came in the evening, and he and dr. johnson and i staid to supper. it was mentioned that dr. dodd had once wished to be a member of the literary club[ ]. johnson. 'i should be sorry if any of our club were hanged. i will not say but some of them deserve it[ ].' beauclerk; (supposing this to be aimed at persons for whom he had at that time a wonderful fancy, which, however, did not last long,) was irritated, and eagerly said, 'you, sir, have a friend[ ], (naming him) who deserves to be hanged; for he speaks behind their backs against those with whom he lives on the best terms, and attacks them in the newspapers. _he_ certainly ought to be _kicked_.' johnson. 'sir, we all do this in some degree, "_veniam petimus damusque vicissim_[ ]." to be sure it may be done so much, that a man may deserve to be kicked.' beauclerk. 'he is very malignant.' johnson. 'no, sir; he is not malignant. he is mischievous, if you will. he would do no man an essential injury; he may, indeed, love to make sport of people by vexing their vanity. i, however, once knew an old gentleman who was absolutely malignant. he really wished evil to others, and rejoiced at it.' boswell. 'the gentleman, mr. beauclerk, against whom you are so violent, is, i know, a man of good principles.' beauclerk. 'then he does not wear them out in practice[ ].' dr. johnson, who, as i have observed before, delighted in discrimination of character, and having a masterly knowledge of human nature, was willing to take men as they are, imperfect and with a mixture of good and bad qualities[ ], i suppose thought he had said enough in defence of his friend, of whose merits, notwithstanding his exceptional points, he had a just value; and added no more on the subject. on tuesday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, with general paoli and mr. langton. general oglethorpe declaimed against luxury[ ]. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, every state of society is as luxurious as it can be. men always take the best they can get.' oglethorpe. 'but the best depends much upon ourselves; and if we can be as well satisfied with plain things, we are in the wrong to accustom our palates to what is high-seasoned and expensive. what says addison in his _cato_, speaking of the numidian? "coarse are his meals, the fortune of the chace, amid the running stream he slakes his thirst, toils all the day, and at the approach of night, on the first friendly bank he throws him down, or rests his head upon a rock till morn[ ]; and if the following day he chance to find a new repast, or an untasted spring, blesses his stars, and thinks it's luxury." let us have _that_ kind of luxury, sir, if you will.' johnson. 'but hold, sir; to be merely satisfied is not enough. it is in refinement and elegance that the civilized man differs from the savage. a great part of our industry, and all our ingenuity is exercised in procuring pleasure; and, sir, a hungry man has not the same pleasure in eating a plain dinner, that a hungry man has in eating a luxurious dinner. you see i put the case fairly. a hungry man may have as much, nay, more pleasure in eating a plain dinner, than a man grown fastidious has in eating a luxurious dinner. but i suppose the man who decides between the two dinners, to be equally a hungry man.' talking of different governments,--johnson. 'the more contracted that power is, the more easily it is destroyed. a country governed by a despot is an inverted cone. government there cannot be so firm, as when it rests upon a broad basis gradually contracted, as the government of great britain, which is founded on the parliament, then is in the privy council, then in the king.' boswell. 'power, when contracted into the person of a despot, may be easily destroyed, as the prince may be cut off. so caligula wished that the people of rome had but one neck, that he might cut them off at a blow.' oglethorpe. 'it was of the senate he wished that[ ]. the senate by its usurpation controlled both the emperour and the people. and don't you think that we see too much of that in our own parliament?' dr. johnson endeavoured to trace the etymology of maccaronick verses, which he thought were of italian invention from maccaroni; but on being informed that this would infer that they were the most common and easy verses, maccaroni being the most ordinary and simple food, he was at a loss; for he said, 'he rather should have supposed it to import in its primitive signification, a composition of several things; for maccaronick verses are verses made out of a mixture of different languages, that is, of one language with the termination of another[ ].' i suppose we scarcely know of a language in any country where there is any learning, in which that motley ludicrous species of composition may not be found. it is particularly droll in low dutch. the _polemomiddinia_[ ] of drummond of hawthornden, in which there is a jumble of many languages moulded, as if it were all in latin, is well known. mr. langton made us laugh heartily at one in the grecian mould, by joshua barnes, in which are to be found such comical _anglo-ellenisms_ as [greek: klubboisin ebanchthen]: they were banged with clubs[ ]. on wednesday, april , i dined with dr. johnson at mr. dilly's, and was in high spirits, for i had been a good part of the morning with mr. orme, the able and eloquent historian of hindostan, who expressed a great admiration of johnson. 'i do not care (said he,) on what subject johnson talks; but i love better to hear him talk than any body. he either gives you new thoughts, or a new colouring. it is a shame to the nation that he has not been more liberally rewarded. had i been george the third, and thought as he did about america, i would have given johnson three hundred a year for his _taxation no tyranny_ alone.' i repeated this, and johnson was much pleased with such praise from such a man as orme. at mr. dilly's to-day were mrs. knowles[ ], the ingenious quaker lady[ ], miss seward, the poetess of lichfield, the reverend dr. mayo[ ], and the rev. mr. beresford, tutor to the duke of bedford. before dinner dr. johnson seized upon mr. charles sheridan's _account of the late revolution in sweden_[ ], and seemed to read it ravenously, as if he devoured it, which was to all appearance his method of studying. 'he knows how to read better than any one (said mrs. knowles;) he gets at the substance of a book directly; he tears out the heart of it.' he kept it wrapt up in the tablecloth in his lap during the time of dinner, from an avidity to have one entertainment in readiness when he should have finished another; resembling (if i may use so coarse a simile) a dog who holds a bone in his paws in reserve, while he eats something else which has been thrown to him. the subject of cookery having been very naturally introduced at a table where johnson, who boasted of the niceness of his palate[ ], owned that 'he always found a good dinner,' he said, 'i could write a better book of cookery than has ever yet been written; it should be a book upon philosophical principles. pharmacy is now made much more simple. cookery may be made so too. a prescription which is now compounded of five ingredients, had formerly fifty in it. so in cookery, if the nature of the ingredients be well known, much fewer will do. then as you cannot make bad meat good, i would tell what is the best butcher's meat, the best beef, the best pieces; how to choose young fowls; the proper seasons of different vegetables; and then how to roast and boil, and compound.' dilly. 'mrs. glasse's _cookery_, which is the best, was written by dr. hill. half the _trade_[ ] know this.' johnson. 'well, sir. this shews how much better the subject of cookery may be treated by a philosopher. i doubt if the book be written by dr. hill; for, in mrs. glasse's _cookery_, which i have looked into, salt-petre and sal-prunella are spoken of as different substances, whereas sal-prunella is only salt-petre burnt on charcoal; and hill could not be ignorant of this. however, as the greatest part of such a book is made by transcription, this mistake may have been carelessly adopted. but you shall see what a book of cookery i shall make! i shall agree with mr. dilly for the copy-right.' miss seward. 'that would be hercules with the distaff indeed.' johnson. 'no, madam. women can spin very well; but they cannot make a good book of cookery.' johnson. 'o! mr. dilly--you must know that an english benedictine monk at paris has translated _the duke of berwick's memoirs_, from the original french, and has sent them to me to sell. i offered them to strahan, who sent them back with this answer:--"that the first book he had published was the _duke of berwick's life_, by which he had lost: and he hated the name."--now i honestly tell you, that strahan has refused them; but i also honestly tell you, that he did it upon no principle, for he never looked into them.' dilly. 'are they well translated, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, very well--in a style very current and very clear. i have written to the benedictine to give me an answer upon two points--what evidence is there that the letters are authentick? (for if they are not authentick they are nothing;)--and how long will it be before the original french is published? for if the french edition is not to appear for a considerable time, the translation will be almost as valuable as an original book. they will make two volumes in octavo; and i have undertaken to correct every sheet as it comes from the press.' mr. dilly desired to see them, and said he would send for them. he asked dr. johnson if he would write a preface to them. johnson. 'no, sir. the benedictines were very kind to me[ ], and i'll do what i undertook to do; but i will not mingle my name with them. i am to gain nothing by them. i'll turn them loose upon the world, and let them take their chance.' dr. mayo. 'pray, sir, are ganganelli's letters authentick?' johnson. 'no, sir. voltaire put the same question to the editor of them, that i did to macpherson--where are the originals[ ]?' mrs. knowles affected to complain that men had much more liberty allowed them than women. johnson. 'why, madam, women have all the liberty they should wish to have. we have all the labour and the danger, and the women all the advantage. we go to sea, we build houses, we do everything, in short, to pay our court to the women.' mrs. knowles. 'the doctor reasons very wittily, but not convincingly. now, take the instance of building; the mason's wife, if she is ever seen in liquor, is ruined; the mason may get himself drunk as often as he pleases, with little loss of character; nay, may let his wife and children starve.' johnson. 'madam, you must consider, if the mason does get himself drunk, and let his wife and children starve, the parish will oblige him to find security for their maintenance. we have different modes of restraining evil. stocks for the men, a ducking-stool for women[ ], and a pound for beasts. if we require more perfection from women than from ourselves, it is doing them honour. and women have not the same temptations that we have: they may always live in virtuous company; men must mix in the world indiscriminately. if a woman has no inclination to do what is wrong being secured from it is no restraint to her. i am at liberty to walk into the thames; but if i were to try it, my friends would restrain me in bedlam, and i should be obliged to them.' mrs. knowles. 'still, doctor, i cannot help thinking it a hardship that more indulgence is allowed to men than to women. it gives a superiority to men, to which i do not see how they are entitled.' johnson. 'it is plain, madam, one or other must have the superiority. as shakspeare says, "if two men ride on a horse, one must ride behind[ ]."' dilly. 'i suppose, sir, mrs. knowles would have them to ride in panniers, one on each side.' johnson. 'then, sir, the horse would throw them both.' mrs. knowles. 'well, i hope that in another world the sexes will be equal.' boswell. 'that is being too ambitious, madam. _we_ might as well desire to be equal with the angels. we shall all, i hope, be happy in a future state, but we must not expect to be all happy in the same degree. it is enough if we be happy according to our several capacities. a worthy carman will get to heaven as well as sir isaac newton. yet, though equally good, they will not have the same degrees of happiness.' johnson. 'probably not.' upon this subject i had once before sounded him, by mentioning the late reverend mr. brown, of utrecht's, image; that a great and small glass, though equally full, did not hold an equal quantity; which he threw out to refute david hume's saying[ ], that a little miss, going to dance at a ball, in a fine new dress, was as happy as a great oratour, after having made an eloquent and applauded speech. after some thought, johnson said, 'i come over to the parson.' as an instance of coincidence of thinking, mr. dilly told me, that dr. king, a late dissenting minister in london, said to him, upon the happiness in a future state of good men of different capacities, 'a pail does not hold so much as a tub; but, if it be equally full, it has no reason to complain. every saint in heaven will have as much happiness as he can hold.' mr. dilly thought this a clear, though a familiar illustration of the phrase, 'one star differeth from another in brightness[ ].' dr. mayo having asked johnson's opinion of soame jenyns's _view of the internal evidence of the christian religion_[ ];--johnson. 'i think it a pretty book; not very theological indeed; and there seems to be an affectation of ease and carelessness, as if it were not suitable to his character to be very serious about the matter.' boswell. 'he may have intended this to introduce his book the better among genteel people, who might be unwilling to read too grave a treatise. there is a general levity in the age. we have physicians now with bag-wigs[ ]; may we not have airy divines, at least somewhat less solemn in their appearance than they used to be?' johnson. 'jenyns might mean as you say[ ].' boswell. 'you should like his book, mrs. knowles, as it maintains, as you _friends_ do, that courage is not a christian virtue.' mrs. knowles. 'yes, indeed, i like him there; but i cannot agree with him, that friendship is not a christian virtue[ ].' johnson. 'why, madam, strictly speaking, he is right. all friendship is preferring the interest of a friend, to the neglect, or, perhaps, against the interest of others; so that an old greek said, "he that has _friends_ has _no friend_." now christianity recommends universal benevolence, to consider all men as our brethren[ ], which is contrary to the virtue of friendship, as described by the ancient philosophers. surely, madam, your sect must approve of this; for, you call all men _friends_.' mrs. knowles. 'we are commanded to do good to all men, "but especially to them who are of the household of faith[ ]."' johnson. 'well, madam. the household of faith is wide enough.' mrs. knowles. 'but, doctor, our saviour had twelve apostles, yet there was _one_ whom he _loved_. john was called "the disciple whom jesus loved[ ]."' johnson (with eyes sparkling benignantly). 'very well, indeed, madam. you have said very well.' boswell. 'a fine application. pray, sir, had you ever thought of it?' johnson. 'i had not, sir.' from this pleasing subject[ ], he, i know not how or why, made a sudden transition to one upon which he was a violent aggressor; for he said, 'i am willing to love all mankind, _except an american_:' and his inflammable corruption bursting into horrid fire, he 'breathed out threatenings and slaughter[ ];' calling them, 'rascals--robbers-- pirates;' and exclaiming, he'd 'burn and destroy them.' miss seward, looking to him with mild but steady astonishment, said, 'sir, this is an instance that we are always most violent against those whom we have injured.'--he was irritated still more by this delicate and keen reproach; and roared out another tremendous volley, which one might fancy could be heard across the atlantick. during this tempest i sat in great uneasiness, lamenting his heat of temper; till, by degrees, i diverted his attention to other topicks. dr. mayo (to dr. johnson). 'pray, sir, have you read _edwards, of new england, on grace_?' johnson. 'no, sir.' boswell. 'it puzzled me so much as to the freedom of the human will, by stating, with wonderful acute ingenuity, our being actuated by a series of motives which we cannot resist, that the only relief i had was to forget it.' mayo. 'but he makes the proper distinction between moral and physical necessity.' boswell. 'alas, sir, they come both to the same thing. you may be bound as hard by chains when covered by leather, as when the iron appears. the argument for the moral necessity of human actions is always, i observe, fortified by supposing universal prescience to be one of the attributes of the deity.' johnson. 'you are surer that you are free, than you are of prescience; you are surer that you can lift up your finger or not as you please, than you are of any conclusion from a deduction of reasoning. but let us consider a little the objection from prescience. it is certain i am either to go home to-night or not; that does not prevent my freedom.' boswell. 'that it is certain you are _either_ to go home or not, does not prevent your freedom; because the liberty of choice between the two is compatible with that certainty. but if _one_ of these events be certain _now_, you have no _future_ power of volition. if it be certain you are to go home to-night, you _must_ go home.' johnson. 'if i am well acquainted with a man, i can judge with great probability how he will act in any case, without his being restrained by my judging. god may have this probability increased to certainty.' boswell. 'when it is increased to _certainty_, freedom ceases, because that cannot be certainly foreknown, which is not certain at the time; but if it be certain at the time, it is a contradiction in terms to maintain that there can be afterwards any _contingency_ dependent upon the exercise of will or any thing else.' johnson. 'all theory is against the freedom of the will; all experience for it[ ].'--i did not push the subject any farther. i was glad to find him so mild in discussing a question of the most abstract nature, involved with theological tenets, which he generally would not suffer to be in any degree opposed[ ]. he as usual defended luxury[ ]; 'you cannot spend money in luxury without doing good to the poor. nay, you do more good to them by spending it in luxury, than by giving it: for by spending it in luxury, you make them exert industry, whereas by giving it, you keep them idle. i own, indeed, there may be more virtue in giving it immediately in charity, than in spending it in luxury; though there may be a pride in that too.' miss seward asked, if this was not mandeville's doctrine of 'private vices publick benefits.' johnson. 'the fallacy of that book is, that mandeville defines neither vices nor benefits. he reckons among vices everything that gives pleasure[ ]. he takes the narrowest system of morality, monastick morality, which holds pleasure itself to be a vice, such as eating salt with our fish, because it makes it eat better; and he reckons wealth as a publick benefit, which is by no means always true. pleasure of itself is not a vice. having a garden, which we all know to be perfectly innocent, is a great pleasure. at the same time, in this state of being there are many pleasures vices, which however are so immediately agreeable that we can hardly abstain from them. the happiness of heaven will be, that pleasure and virtue will be perfectly consistent. mandeville puts the case of a man who gets drunk in an alehouse; and says it is a publick benefit, because so much money is got by it to the publick. but it must be considered, that all the good gained by this, through the gradation of alehouse-keeper, brewer, maltster, and farmer, is overbalanced by the evil caused to the man and his family by his getting drunk[ ]. this is the way to try what is vicious, by ascertaining whether more evil than good is produced by it upon the whole, which is the case in all vice. it may happen that good is produced by vice; but not as vice; for instance, a robber may take money from its owner, and give it to one who will make a better use of it. here is good produced; but not by the robbery as robbery, but as translation of property[ ]. i read mandeville forty, or, i believe, fifty years ago. he did not puzzle me; he opened my views into real life very much[ ]. no, it is clear that the happiness of society depends on virtue. in sparta, theft was allowed by general consent[ ]: theft, therefore, was _there_ not a crime, but then there was no security; and what a life must they have had, when there was no security. without truth there must be a dissolution of society. as it is, there is so little truth, that we are almost afraid to trust our ears; but how should we be, if falsehood were multiplied ten times? society is held together by communication and information; and i remember this remark of sir thomas brown's, "do the devils lie? no; for then hell could not subsist[ ]."' talking of miss ----[ ], a literary lady, he said, 'i was obliged to speak to miss reynolds, to let her know that i desired she would not flatter me so much.' somebody now observed, 'she flatters garrick.' johnson. 'she is in the right to flatter garrick. she is in the right for two reasons; first, because she has the world with her, who have been praising garrick these thirty years; and secondly, because she is rewarded for it by garrick[ ]. why should she flatter _me_? i can do nothing for her. let her carry her praise to a better market[ ]. (then turning to mrs. knowles). you, madam, have been flattering me all the evening; i wish you would give boswell a little now. if you knew his merit as well as i do, you would say a great deal; he is the best travelling companion in the world[ ].' somebody mentioned the reverend mr. mason's prosecution of mr. murray[ ], the bookseller, for having inserted in a collection of _gray's poems_, only fifty lines, of which mr. mason had still the exclusive property, under the statute of queen anne; and that mr. mason had persevered, notwithstanding his being requested to name his own terms of compensation[ ]. johnson signified his displeasure at mr. mason's conduct very strongly; but added, by way of shewing that he was not surprized at it, 'mason's a whig.' mrs. knowles, (not hearing distinctly:) 'what! a prig, sir?' johnson. 'worse, madam; a whig! but he is both.' i expressed a horrour at the thought of death. mrs. knowles. 'nay, thou should'st not have a horrour for what is the gate of life.' johnson, (standing upon the hearth rolling about, with a serious, solemn, and somewhat gloomy air:) 'no rational man can die without uneasy apprehension.' mrs. knowles. 'the scriptures tell us, "the righteous shall have _hope_ in his death[ ]."' johnson. 'yes, madam; that is, he shall not have despair[ ]. but, consider, his hope of salvation must be founded on the terms on which it is promised that the mediation of our saviour shall be applied to us,--namely, obedience; and where obedience has failed, then, as suppletory to it, repentance. but what man can say that his obedience has been such, as he would approve of in another, or even in himself upon close examination, or that his repentance has not been such as to require being repented of? no man can be sure that his obedience and repentance will obtain salvation.' mrs. knowles. 'but divine intimation of acceptance may be made to the soul.' johnson. 'madam, it may; but i should not think the better of a man who should tell me on his death-bed he was sure of salvation. a man cannot be sure himself that he has divine intimation of acceptance; much less can he make others sure that he has it[ ].' boswell. 'then, sir, we must be contented to acknowledge that death is a terrible thing.' johnson. 'yes, sir. i have made no approaches to a state which can look on it as not terrible[ ].' mrs. knowles, (seeming to enjoy a pleasing serenity in the persuasion of benignant divine light:) 'does not st. paul say, "i have fought the good fight of faith, i have finished my course; henceforth is laid up for me a crown of life[ ]?"' johnson. 'yes, madam; but here was a man inspired, a man who had been converted by supernatural interposition.' boswell. 'in prospect death is dreadful; but in fact we find that people die easy.' johnson. 'why, sir, most people have not _thought_ much of the matter, so cannot _say_ much, and it is supposed they die easy. few believe it certain they are then to die; and those who do, set themselves to behave with resolution, as a man does who is going to be hanged. he is not the less unwilling to be hanged[ ].' miss seward. 'there is one mode of the fear of death, which is certainly absurd; and that is the dread of annihilation, which is only a pleasing sleep without a dream.' johnson. 'it is neither pleasing, nor sleep; it is nothing. now mere existence is so much better than nothing, that one would rather exist even in pain, than not exist[ ].' boswell. 'if annihilation be nothing, then existing in pain is not a comparative state, but is a positive evil, which i cannot think we should choose. i must be allowed to differ here; and it would lessen the hope of a future state founded on the argument, that the supreme being, who is good as he is great, will hereafter compensate for our present sufferings in this life. for if existence, such as we have it here, be comparatively a good, we have no reason to complain, though no more of it should be given to us. but if our only state of existence were in this world, then we might with some reason complain that we are so dissatisfied with our enjoyments compared with our desires.' johnson. 'the lady confounds annihilation, which is nothing, with the apprehension of it, which is dreadful. it is in the apprehension of it that the horrour of annihilation consists[ ].' of john wesley, he said, 'he can talk well on any subject[ ].' boswell. 'pray, sir, what has he made of his story of a ghost?' johnson. 'why, sir, he believes it; but not on sufficient authority. he did not take time enough to examine the girl. it was at newcastle, where the ghost was said to have appeared to a young woman several times, mentioning something about the right to an old house, advising application to be made to an attorney, which was done; and, at the same time, saying the attorney would do nothing, which proved to be the fact. "this (says john) is a proof that a ghost knows our thoughts[ ]." now (laughing) it is not necessary to know our thoughts, to tell that an attorney will sometimes do nothing. charles wesley, who is a more stationary man, does not believe the story. i am sorry that john did not take more pains to inquire into the evidence for it.' miss seward, (with an incredulous smile:) 'what, sir! about a ghost?' johnson, (with solemn vehemence:) 'yes, madam: this is a question which, after five thousand years, is yet undecided; a question, whether in theology or philosophy, one of the most important that can come before the human understanding[ ].' mrs. knowles mentioned, as a proselyte to quakerism, miss ----[ ], a young lady well known to dr. johnson, for whom he had shewn much affection; while she ever had, and still retained, a great respect for him. mrs. knowles at the same time took an opportunity of letting him know 'that the amiable young creature was sorry at finding that he was offended at her leaving the church of england and embracing a simpler faith;' and, in the gentlest and most persuasive manner, solicited his kind indulgence for what was sincerely a matter of conscience. johnson, (frowning very angrily,) 'madam, she is an odious wench. she could not have any proper conviction that it was her duty to change her religion, which is the most important of all subjects, and should be studied with all care, and with all the helps we can get. she knew no more of the church which she left, and that which she embraced, than she did of the difference between the copernican and ptolemaick systems.' mrs. knowles. 'she had the new testament before her.' johnson. 'madam, she could not understand the new testament, the most difficult book in the world, for which the study of a life is required.' mrs. knowles. 'it is clear as to essentials.' johnson. 'but not as to controversial points. the heathens were easily converted, because they had nothing to give up; but we ought not, without very strong conviction indeed, to desert the religion in which we have been educated. that is the religion given you, the religion in which it may be said providence has placed you. if you live conscientiously in that religion, you may be safe. but errour is dangerous indeed, if you err when you choose a religion for yourself[ ].' mrs. knowles. 'must we then go by implicit faith?' johnson. 'why, madam, the greatest part of our knowledge is implicit faith; and as to religion, have we heard all that a disciple of confucius, all that a mahometan, can say for himself?' he then rose again into passion, and attacked the young proselyte in the severest terms of reproach, so that both the ladies seemed to be much shocked[ ]. we remained together till it was pretty late. notwithstanding occasional explosions of violence, we were all delighted upon the whole with johnson. i compared him at this time to a warm west-indian climate, where you have a bright sun, quick vegetation, luxuriant foliage, luscious fruits; but where the same heat sometimes produces thunder, lightning, earthquakes, in a terrible degree. april , being good friday[ ], i waited on johnson, as usual. i observed at breakfast that although it was a part of his abstemious discipline on this most solemn fast, to take no milk in his tea, yet when mrs. desmoulins inadvertently poured it in, he did not reject it. i talked of the strange indecision of mind, and imbecility in the common occurrences of life, which we may observe in some people. johnson. 'why, sir, i am in the habit of getting others to do things for me.' boswell. 'what, sir! have you that weakness?' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i always think afterwards i should have done better for myself.' i told him that at a gentleman's house[ ] where there was thought to be such extravagance or bad management, that he was living much beyond his income, his lady had objected to the cutting of a pickled mango, and that i had taken an opportunity to ask the price of it, and found it was only two shillings; so here was a very poor saving. johnson. 'sir, that is the blundering oeconomy of a narrow understanding. it is stopping one hole in a sieve.' i expressed some inclination to publish an account of my _travels_ upon the continent of europe, for which i had a variety of materials collected. johnson. 'i do not say, sir, you may not publish your travels; but i give you my opinion, that you would lessen yourself by it. what can you tell of countries so well known as those upon the continent of europe, which you have visited?' boswell. 'but i can give an entertaining narrative, with many incidents, anecdotes, _jeux d'esprit_, and remarks, so as to make very pleasant reading.' johnson. 'why, sir, most modern travellers in europe who have published their travels, have been laughed at: i would not have you added to the number[ ]. the world is now not contented to be merely entertained by a traveller's narrative; they want to learn something[ ]. now some of my friends asked me, why i did not give some account of my travels in france. the reason is plain; intelligent readers had seen more of france than i had. _you_ might have liked my travels in france, and the club might have liked them; but, upon the whole, there would have been more ridicule than good produced by them.' boswell. 'i cannot agree with you, sir. people would like to read what you say of any thing. suppose a face has been painted by fifty painters before; still we love to see it done by sir joshua.' johnson. 'true, sir, but sir joshua cannot paint a face when he has not time to look on it.' boswell. 'sir, a sketch of any sort by him is valuable. and, sir, to talk to you in your own style (raising my voice, and shaking my head,) you _should_ have given us your travels in france. i am _sure_ i am right, and _there's an end on't_.' i said to him that it was certainly true, as my friend dempster had observed in his letter to me upon the subject, that a great part of what was in his _journey to the western islands of scotland_ had been in his mind before he left london. johnson. 'why yes, sir, the topicks were; and books of travels[ ] will be good in proportion to what a man has previously in his mind; his knowing what to observe; his power of contrasting one mode of life with another. as the spanish proverb says, "he, who would bring home the wealth of the indies, must carry the wealth of the indies with him." so it is in travelling; a man must carry knowledge with him, if he would bring home knowledge.' boswell. 'the proverb, i suppose, sir, means, he must carry a large stock with him to trade with.' johnson. 'yes, sir.' it was a delightful day: as we walked to st. clement's church[ ], i again remarked that fleet-street was the most cheerful scene in the world[ ]. 'fleet-street (said i,) is in my mind more delightful than tempé.' johnson. 'ay, sir; but let it be compared with mull.' there was a very numerous congregation to-day at st. clement's church, which dr. johnson said he observed with pleasure. and now i am to give a pretty full account of one of the most curious incidents in johnson's life, of which he himself has made the following minute on this day: 'in my return from church, i was accosted by edwards[ ], an old fellow-collegian, who had not seen me since . he knew me, and asked if i remembered one edwards; i did not at first recollect the name, but gradually as we walked along, recovered it, and told him a conversation that had passed at an alehouse between us. my purpose is to continue our acquaintance[ ].' it was in butcher-row that this meeting happened. mr. edwards, who was a decent-looking elderly man in grey clothes, and a wig of many curls, accosted johnson with familiar confidence, knowing who he was, while johnson returned his salutation with a courteous formality, as to a stranger. but as soon as edwards had brought to his recollection their having been at pembroke-college together nine-and-forty years ago, he seemed much pleased, asked where he lived, and said he should be glad to see him in bolt-court. edwards. 'ah, sir! we are old men now[ ].' johnson, (who never liked to think of being old[ ]:) 'don't let us discourage one another.' edwards. 'why, doctor, you look stout and hearty, i am happy to see you so; for the newspapers told us you were very ill[ ].' johnson, 'ay, sir, they are always telling lies of _us old fellows_.' wishing to be present at more of so singular a conversation as that between two fellow-collegians, who had lived forty years in london without ever having chanced to meet, i whispered to mr. edwards that dr. johnson was going home, and that he had better accompany him now. so edwards walked along with us, i eagerly assisting to keep up the conversation. mr. edwards informed dr. johnson that he had practised long as a solicitor in chancery, but that he now lived in the country upon a little farm, about sixty acres, just by stevenage in hertfordshire, and that he came to london (to barnard's inn, no. ), generally twice a week. johnson appearing to me in a reverie, mr. edwards addressed himself to me, and expatiated on the pleasure of living in the country. boswell. 'i have no notion of this, sir. what you have to entertain you, is, i think, exhausted in half an hour.' edwards. 'what? don't you love to have hope realized? i see my grass, and my corn, and my trees growing. now, for instance, i am curious to see if this frost has not nipped my fruit-trees.' johnson, (who we did not imagine was attending:) 'you find, sir, you have fears as well as hopes.'--so well did he see the whole, when another saw but the half of a subject. when we got to dr. johnson's house, and were seated in his library, the dialogue went on admirably. edwards. 'sir, i remember you would not let us say _prodigious_ at college[ ]. for even then, sir, (turning to me,) he was delicate in language, and we all feared him[ ].' johnson, (to edwards:) 'from your having practised the law long, sir, i presume you must be rich.' edwards. 'no, sir; i got a good deal of money; but i had a number of poor relations to whom i gave a great part of it.' johnson. 'sir, you have been rich in the most valuable sense of the word.' edwards. 'but i shall not die rich.' johnson. 'nay, sure, sir, it is better to _live_ rich than to _die_ rich.' edwards. 'i wish i had continued at college.' johnson. 'why do you wish that, sir?' edwards. 'because i think i should have had a much easier life than mine has been. i should have been a parson, and had a good living, like bloxam and several others, and lived comfortably.' johnson. 'sir, the life of a parson, of a conscientious clergyman, is not easy. i have always considered a clergyman as the father of a larger family than he is able to maintain. i would rather have chancery suits upon my hands than the cure of souls. no, sir, i do not envy a clergyman's life as an easy life[ ], nor do i envy the clergyman who makes it an easy life.' here taking himself up all of a sudden, he exclaimed, 'o! mr. edwards! i'll convince you that i recollect you. do you remember our drinking together at an alehouse near pembroke gate[ ]. at that time, you told me of the eton boy, who, when verses on our saviour's turning water into wine were prescribed as an exercise, brought up a single line, which was highly admired,-- "_vidit et erubuit lympha pudica deum_[ ]," and i told you of another fine line in camden's _remains_, an eulogy upon one of our kings, who was succeeded by his son, a prince of equal merit:-- "_mira cano, sol occubuit, nox nulla secuta est_[ ]."' edwards. 'you are a philosopher, dr. johnson. i have tried too in my time to be a philosopher; but, i don't know how, cheerfulness was always breaking in[ ].' mr. burke, sir joshua reynolds, mr. courtenay, mr. malone, and, indeed, all the eminent men to whom i have mentioned this, have thought it an exquisite trait of character. the truth is, that philosophy, like religion, is too generally supposed to be hard and severe, at least so grave as to exclude all gaiety. edwards. 'i have been twice married, doctor. you, i suppose, have never known what it was to have a wife.' johnson. 'sir, i have known what it was to have a wife, and (in a solemn tender faultering tone) i have known what it was to _lose a wife_.--it had almost broke my heart.' edwards. 'how do you live, sir? for my part, i must have my regular meals, and a glass of good wine. i find i require it.' johnson. 'i now drink no wine, sir. early in life i drank wine: for many years i drank none. i then for some years drank a great deal.' edwards. 'some hogsheads, i warrant you.' johnson. 'i then had a severe illness, and left it off[ ], and i have never begun it again. i never felt any difference upon myself from eating one thing rather than another, nor from one kind of weather rather than another[ ]. there are people. i believe, who feel a difference; but i am not one of them. and as to regular meals, i have fasted from the sunday's dinner to the tuesday's dinner, without any inconvenience[ ]. i believe it is best to eat just as one is hungry: but a man who is in business, or a man who has a family, must have stated meals. i am a straggler. i may leave this town and go to grand cairo, without being missed here or observed there.' edwards. 'don't you eat supper, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir.' edwards. 'for my part, now, i consider supper as a turnpike through which one must pass, in order to get to bed[ ].' johnson. 'you are a lawyer, mr. edwards. lawyers know life practically. a bookish man should always have them to converse with. they have what he wants.' edwards. 'i am grown old: i am sixty-five.' johnson. 'i shall be sixty-eight[ ] next birth-day. come, sir, drink water, and put in for a hundred.' mr. edwards mentioned a gentleman who had left his whole fortune to pembroke college. johnson. 'whether to leave one's whole fortune to a college be right, must depend upon circumstances. i would leave the interest of the fortune i bequeathed to a college to my relations or my friends, for their lives[ ]. it is the same thing to a college, which is a permanent society, whether it gets the money now or twenty years hence; and i would wish to make my relations or friends feel the benefit of it.' this interview confirmed my opinion of johnson's most humane and benevolent heart. his cordial and placid behaviour to an old fellow-collegian, a man so different from himself; and his telling him that he would go down to his farm and visit him, showed a kindness of disposition very rare at an advanced age. he observed, 'how wonderful it was that they had both been in london forty years, without having ever once met, and both walkers in the street too!' mr. edwards, when going away, again recurred to his consciousness of senility, and looking full in johnson's face, said to him, 'you'll find in dr. young, "o my coevals! remnants of yourselves[ ]!"' johnson did not relish this at all; but shook his head with impatience. edwards walked off, seemingly highly pleased with the honour of having been thus noticed by dr. johnson. when he was gone, i said to johnson, i thought him but a weak man. johnson. 'why, yes, sir. here is a man who has passed through life without experience: yet i would rather have him with me than a more sensible man who will not talk readily. this man is always willing to say what he has to say.' yet dr. johnson had himself by no means that willingness which he praised so much, and i think so justly; for who has not felt the painful effect of the dreary void, when there is a total silence in a company, for any length of time; or, which is as bad, or perhaps worse, when the conversation is with difficulty kept up by a perpetual effort? johnson once observed to me, 'tom tyers described me the best: "sir (said he), you are like a ghost: you never speak till you are spoken to[ ]."' the gentleman whom he thus familiarly mentioned was mr. thomas tyers, son of mr. jonathan tyers, the founder of that excellent place of publick amusement, vauxhall gardens, which must ever be an estate to its proprietor, as it is peculiarly adapted to the taste of the english nation; there being a mixture of curious show,--gay exhibition,--musick, vocal and instrumental, not too refined for the general ear;--for all which only a shilling is paid[ ]; and, though last, not least, good eating and drinking for those who choose to purchase that regale[ ]. mr. thomas tyers was bred to the law; but having a handsome fortune, vivacity of temper, and eccentricity of mind, he could not confine himself to the regularity of practice. he therefore ran about the world with a pleasant carelessness, amusing everybody by his desultory conversation[ ]. he abounded in anecdote, but was not sufficiently attentive to accuracy. i therefore cannot venture to avail myself much of a biographical sketch of johnson which he published, being one among the various persons ambitious of appending their names to that of my illustrious friend. that sketch is, however, an entertaining little collection of fragments. those which he published of pope and addison are of higher merit; but his fame must chiefly rest upon his _political conferences_, in which he introduces several eminent persons delivering their sentiments in the way of dialogue, and discovers a considerable share of learning, various knowledge, and discernment of character. this much may i be allowed to say of a man who was exceedingly obliging to me, and who lived with dr. johnson in as easy a manner as almost any of his very numerous acquaintance. mr. edwards had said to me aside, that dr. johnson should have been of a profession[ ]. i repeated the remark to johnson that i might have his own thoughts on the subject. johnson. 'sir, it _would_ have been better that i had been of a profession. i ought to have been a lawyer.' boswell. 'i do not think, sir, it would have been better, for we should not have had the _english dictionary_.' johnson. 'but you would have had _reports_.' boswell. 'ay; but there would not have been another, who could have written the _dictionary_. there have been many very good judges. suppose you had been lord chancellor; you would have delivered opinions with more extent of mind, and in a more ornamented manner, than perhaps any chancellor ever did, or ever will do. but, i believe, causes have been as judiciously decided as you could have done.' johnson. 'yes, sir. property has been as well settled.' johnson, however, had a noble ambition floating in his mind, and had, undoubtedly, often speculated on the possibility of his supereminent powers being rewarded in this great and liberal country by the highest honours of the state. sir william scott informs me, that upon the death of the late lord lichfield, who was chancellor of the university of oxford, he said to johnson, 'what a pity it is, sir, that you did not follow the profession of the law[ ]. you might have been lord chancellor of great britain, and attained to the dignity of the peerage; and now that the title of lichfield, your native city, is extinct, you might have had it[ ].' johnson, upon this, seemed much agitated; and, in an angry tone, exclaimed, 'why will you vex me by suggesting this, when it is too late[ ]?' but he did not repine at the prosperity of others. the late dr. thomas leland told mr. courtenay, that when mr. edmund burke shewed johnson his fine house and lands near beaconsfield, johnson coolly said, 'non equidem invideo; miror magis[ ].' yet no man had a higher notion of the dignity of literature than johnson, or was more determined in maintaining the respect which he justly considered as due to it. of this, besides the general tenor of his conduct in society, some characteristical instances may be mentioned. he told sir joshua reynolds, that once when he dined in a numerous company of booksellers, where the room being small, the head of the table, at which he sat, was almost close to the fire, he persevered in suffering a great deal of inconvenience from the heat, rather than quit his place, and let one of them sit above him. goldsmith, in his diverting simplicity, complained one day, in a mixed company, of lord camden. 'i met him (said he) at lord clare's house[ ] in the country, and he took no more notice of me than if i had been an ordinary man.' the company having laughed heartily, johnson stood forth in defence of his friend. 'nay, gentleman, (said he,) dr. goldsmith is in the right. a nobleman ought to have made up to such a man as goldsmith; and i think it is much against lord camden that he neglected him[ ].' nor could he patiently endure to hear that such respect as he thought due only to higher intellectual qualities, should be bestowed on men of slighter, though perhaps more amusing talents. i told him, that one morning, when i went to breakfast with garrick, who was very vain of his intimacy with lord camden,[ ] he accosted me thus:--'pray now, did you--did you meet a little lawyer turning the corner, eh?'--'no, sir, (said i.) pray what do you mean by the question?'--'why, (replied garrick, with an affected indifference, yet as if standing on tip-toe,) lord camden has this moment left me. we have had a long walk together.' johnson. 'well, sir, garrick talked very properly. lord camden _was a little lawyer_ to be associating so familiarly with a player.' sir joshua reynolds observed, with great truth, that johnson considered garrick to be as it were his _property_. he would allow no man either to blame or to praise garrick in his presence, without contradicting him[ ]. having fallen into a very serious frame of mind, in which mutual expressions of kindness passed between us, such as would be thought too vain in me to repeat, i talked with regret of the sad inevitable certainty that one of us must survive the other. johnson. 'yes, sir, that is an affecting consideration. i remember swift, in one of his letters to pope, says, "i intend to come over, that we may meet once more; and when we must part, it is what happens to all human beings[ ]."' boswell. 'the hope that we shall see our departed friends[ ] again must support the mind.' johnson. 'why yes, sir.' boswell. 'there is a strange unwillingness to part with life, independent of serious fears as to futurity. a reverend friend of ours (naming him) tells me, that he feels an uneasiness at the thoughts of leaving his house, his study, his books.' johnson. 'this is foolish in ----[ ]. a man need not be uneasy on these grounds; for, as he will retain his consciousness, he may say with the philosopher, _omnia mea mecum porto_[ ].' boswell. 'true, sir: we may carry our books in our heads; but still there is something painful in the thought of leaving for ever what has given us pleasure. i remember, many years ago, when my imagination was warm, and i happened to be in a melancholy mood, it distressed me to think of going into a state of being in which shakspeare's poetry did not exist. a lady whom i then much admired, a very amiable woman, humoured my fancy, and relieved me by saying, "the first thing you will meet in the other world, will be an elegant copy of shakspeare's works presented to you."' dr. johnson smiled benignantly at this, and did not appear to disapprove of the notion. we went to st. clement's church again in the afternoon[ ], and then returned and drank tea and coffee in mrs. williams's room; mrs. desmoulins doing the honours of the tea-table. i observed that he would not even look at a proof-sheet of his _life of waller_ on good-friday. mr. allen, the printer, brought a book on agriculture, which was printed, and was soon to be published[ ]. it was a very strange performance, the authour having mixed in it his own thoughts upon various topicks, along with his remarks on ploughing, sowing, and other farming operations. he seemed to be an absurd profane fellow, and had introduced in his book many sneers at religion, with equal ignorance and conceit. dr. johnson permitted me to read some passages aloud. one was, that he resolved to work on sunday, and did work, but he owned he felt _some_ weak compunction; and he had this very curious reflection:--'i was born in the wilds of christianity, and the briars and thorns still hang about me.' dr. johnson could not help laughing at this ridiculous image, yet was very angry at the fellow's impiety. 'however, (said he,) the reviewers will make him hang himself.' he, however, observed, 'that formerly there might have been a dispensation obtained for working on sunday in the time of harvest[ ].' indeed in ritual observances, were all the ministers of religion what they should be, and what many of them are, such a power might be wisely and safely lodged with the church. on saturday, april [ ], i drank tea with him. he praised the late mr. buncombe[ ], of canterbury, as a pleasing man. 'he used to come to me: i did not seek much after him. indeed i never sought much after any body.' boswell. 'lord orrery[ ], i suppose.' johnson. 'no, sir; i never went to him but when he sent for me.' boswell. 'richardson[ ]?' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i sought after george psalmanazar the most. i used to go and sit with him at an alehouse in the city[ ].' i am happy to mention another instance which i discovered of his _seeking after_ a man of merit. soon after the honourable daines barrington had published his excellent _observations on the statutes_, johnson waited on that worthy and learned gentleman; and, having told him his name, courteously said, 'i have read your book, sir, with great pleasure, and wish to be better known to you.' thus began an acquaintance, which was continued with mutual regard as long as johnson lived. talking of a recent seditious delinquent[ ], he said, 'they should set him in the pillory, that he may be punished in a way that would disgrace him.' i observed, that the pillory does not always disgrace. and i mentioned an instance of a gentleman[ ] who i thought was not dishonoured by it. johnson. 'ay, but he was, sir. he could not mouth and strut as he used to do, after having been there. people are not willing to ask a man to their tables who has stood in the pillory.' the gentleman who had dined with us at dr. percy's[ ] came in. johnson attacked the americans with intemperate vehemence of abuse. i said something in their favour; and added, that i was always sorry when he talked on that subject. this, it seems, exasperated him; though he said nothing at the time. the cloud was charged with sulphureous vapour, which was afterwards to burst in thunder.--we talked of a gentleman[ ] who was running out his fortune in london; and i said, 'we must get him out of it. all his friends must quarrel with him, and that will soon drive him away.' johnson. 'nay, sir; we'll send _you_ to him. if your company does not drive a man out of his house, nothing will.' this was a horrible shock, for which there was no visible cause. i afterwards asked him why he had said so harsh a thing. johnson. 'because, sir, you made me angry about the americans.' boswell. 'but why did you not take your revenge directly?' johnson. (smiling) 'because, sir, i had nothing ready. a man cannot strike till he has his weapons.' this was a candid and pleasant confession. he shewed me to-night his drawing-room, very genteelly fitted up; and said, 'mrs. thrale sneered when i talked of my having asked you and your lady to live at my house[ ]. i was obliged to tell her, that you would be in as respectable a situation in my house as in hers. sir, the insolence of wealth will creep out.' boswell. 'she has a little both of the insolence of wealth, and the conceit of parts.' johnson. 'the insolence of wealth is a wretched thing; but the conceit of parts has some foundation[ ]. to be sure it should not be. but who is without it?' boswell. 'yourself, sir.' johnson. 'why i play no tricks: i lay no traps.' boswell. 'no, sir. you are six feet high, and you only do not stoop.' we talked of the numbers of people that sometimes have composed the household of great families. i mentioned that there were a hundred in the family of the present earl of eglintoune's father. dr. johnson seeming to doubt it, i began to enumerate. 'let us see: my lord and my lady two.' johnson. 'nay, sir, if you are to count by twos, you may be long enough.' boswell. 'well, but now i add two sons and seven daughters, and a servant for each, that will make twenty; so we have the fifth part already.' johnson. 'very true. you get at twenty pretty readily; but you will not so easily get further on. we grow to five feet pretty readily; but it is not so easy to grow to seven.' on sunday, april , being easter-day, after the solemnities of the festival in st. paul's church, i visited him, but could not stay to dinner. i expressed a wish to have the arguments for christianity always in readiness, that my religious faith might be as firm and clear as any proposition whatever, so that i need not be under the least uneasiness, when it should be attacked. johnson. 'sir, you cannot answer all objections. you have demonstration for a first cause: you see he must be good as well as powerful, because there is nothing to make him otherwise, and goodness of itself is preferable. yet you have against this, what is very certain, the unhappiness of human life. this, however, gives us reason to hope for a future state of compensation, that there may be a perfect system. but of that we were not sure, till we had a positive revelation.' i told him, that his _rasselas_ had often made me unhappy; for it represented the misery of human life so well, and so convincingly to a thinking mind, that if at any time the impression wore off, and i felt myself easy, i began to suspect some delusion. on monday, april [ ], i found him at home in the morning. we talked of a gentleman[ ] who we apprehended was gradually involving his circumstances by bad management. johnson. 'wasting a fortune is evaporation by a thousand imperceptible means. if it were a stream, they'd stop it. you must speak to him. it is really miserable. were he a gamester, it could be said he had hopes of winning. were he a bankrupt in trade, he might have grown rich; but he has neither spirit to spend nor resolution to spare. he does not spend fast enough to have pleasure from it. he has the crime of prodigality, and the wretchedness of parsimony. if a man is killed in a duel, he is killed as many a one has been killed; but it is a sad thing for a man to lie down and die; to bleed to death, because he has not fortitude enough to sear the wound, or even to stitch it up.' i cannot but pause a moment to admire the fecundity of fancy, and choice of language, which in this instance, and, indeed, on almost all occasions, he displayed. it was well observed by dr. percy, now bishop of dromore, 'the conversation of johnson is strong and clear, and may be compared to an antique statue, where every vein and muscle is distinct and bold. ordinary conversation resembles an inferiour cast.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the learned dr. musgrave[ ], counsellor leland of ireland, son to the historian, mrs. cholmondeley, and some more ladies. _the project_[ ], a new poem, was read to the company by dr. musgrave. johnson. 'sir, it has no power. were it not for the well-known names with which it is filled, it would be nothing: the names carry the poet, not the poet the names.' musgrave. 'a temporary poem always entertains us.' johnson. 'so does an account of the criminals hanged yesterday entertain us.' he proceeded:--'demosthenes taylor, as he was called, (that is, the editor of demosthenes) was the most silent man, the merest statue of a man that i have ever seen. i once dined in company with him, and all he said during the whole time was no more than _richard_. how a man should say only richard, it is not easy to imagine. but it was thus: dr. douglas was talking of dr. zachary grey, and ascribing to him something that was written by dr. richard grey. so, to correct him, taylor said, (imitating his affected sententious emphasis and nod,) "_richard_."' mrs. cholmondeley, in a high flow of spirits, exhibited some lively sallies of hyperbolical compliment to johnson, with whom she had been long acquainted, and was very easy[ ]. he was quick in catching the _manner_ of the moment, and answered her somewhat in the style of the hero of a romance, 'madam, you crown me with unfading laurels.' i happened, i know not how, to say that a pamphlet meant a prose piece. johnson. 'no, sir. a few sheets of poetry unbound are a pamphlet[ ], as much as a few sheets of prose.' musgrave. 'a pamphlet may be understood to mean a poetical piece in westminster-hall, that is, in formal language; but in common language it is understood to mean prose.' johnson. (and here was one of the many instances of his knowing clearly and telling exactly how a thing is) 'a pamphlet is understood in common language to mean prose, only from this, that there is so much more prose written than poetry; as when we say a _book_, prose is understood for the same reason, though a book may as well be in poetry as in prose. we understand what is most general, and we name what is less frequent.' we talked of a lady's verses on ireland. miss reynolds. 'have you seen them, sir?' johnson. 'no, madam. i have seen a translation from horace, by one of her daughters. she shewed it me.' miss reynolds. 'and how was it, sir?' johnson. 'why, very well for a young miss's verses;--that is to say, compared with excellence, nothing; but, very well, for the person who wrote them. i am vexed at being shewn verses in that manner.' miss reynolds. 'but if they should be good, why not give them hearty praise?' johnson. 'why, madam, because i have not then got the better of my bad humour from having been shewn them. you must consider, madam; beforehand they may be bad, as well as good. nobody has a right to put another under such a difficulty, that he must either hurt the person by telling the truth, or hurt himself by telling what is not true.'[ ] boswell. 'a man often shews his writings to people of eminence, to obtain from them, either from their good-nature, or from their not being able to tell the truth firmly, a commendation, of which he may afterwards avail himself.' johnson. 'very true, sir. therefore the man, who is asked by an authour, what he thinks of his work, is put to the torture, and is not obliged to speak the truth; so that what he says is not considered as his opinion; yet he has said it, and cannot retract it; and this authour, when mankind are hunting him with a cannister at his tail, can say, "i would not have published, had not johnson, or reynolds, or musgrave, or some other good judge commended the work." yet i consider it as a very difficult question in conscience, whether one should advise a man not to publish a work, if profit be his object; for the man may say, "had it not been for you, i should have had the money." now you cannot be sure; for you have only your own opinion, and the publick may think very differently.' sir joshua reynolds. 'you must upon such an occasion have two judgments; one as to the real value of the work, the other as to what may please the general taste at the time.' johnson. 'but you can be sure of neither; and therefore i should scruple much to give a suppressive vote. both goldsmith's comedies were once refused; his first by garrick,[ ] his second by colman, who was prevailed on at last by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to bring it on.[ ] his _vicar of wakefield_ i myself did not think would have had much success. it was written and sold to a bookseller before his _traveller_; but published after; so little expectation had the bookseller from it. had it been sold after the _traveller_, he might have had twice as much money for it, though sixty guineas was no mean price. the bookseller had the advantage of goldsmith's reputation from _the traveller_ in the sale, though goldsmith had it not in selling the copy.'[ ] sir joshua reynolds. '_the beggar's opera_ affords a proof how strangely people will differ in opinion about a literary performance. burke thinks it has no merit.' johnson. 'it was refused by one of the houses[ ]; but i should have thought it would succeed, not from any great excellence in the writing, but from the novelty, and the general spirit and gaiety of the piece, which keeps the audience always attentive, and dismisses them in good humour.' we went to the drawing-room, where was a considerable increase of company. several of us got round dr. johnson, and complained that he would not give us an exact catalogue of his works, that there might be a complete edition. he smiled, and evaded our entreaties. that he intended to do it, i have no doubt, because i have heard him say so; and i have in my possession an imperfect list, fairly written out, which he entitles _historia studiorum_. i once got from one of his friends a list, which there was pretty good reason to suppose was accurate, for it was written down in his presence by this friend, who enumerated each article aloud, and had some of them mentioned to him by mr. levett, in concert with whom it was made out; and johnson, who heard all this, did not contradict it. but when i shewed a copy of this list to him, and mentioned the evidence for its exactness, he laughed, and said, 'i was willing to let them go on as they pleased, and never interfered.' upon which i read it to him, article by article, and got him positively to own or refuse; and then, having obtained certainty so far, i got some other articles confirmed by him directly; and afterwards, from time to time, made additions under his sanction[ ]. his friend edward cave having been mentioned, he told us, 'cave used to sell ten thousand of _the gentleman's magazine_; yet such was then his minute attention and anxiety that the sale should not suffer the smallest decrease, that he would name a particular person who he heard had talked of leaving off the _magazine_, and would say, 'let us have something good next month.' it was observed, that avarice was inherent in some dispositions. johnson. 'no man was born a miser, because no man was born to possession. every man is born _cupidus_--desirous of getting; but not _avarus_,--desirous of keeping.' boswell. 'i have heard old mr. sheridan maintain, with much ingenuity, that a complete miser is a happy man; a miser who gives himself wholly to the one passion of saving.' johnson. 'that is flying in the face of all the world, who have called an avaricious man a _miser_, because he is miserable[ ]. no, sir; a man who both spends and saves money is the happiest man, because he has both enjoyments.' the conversation having turned on _bon-mots_, he quoted, from one of the _ana_, an exquisite instance of flattery in a maid of honour in france, who being asked by the queen what o'clock it was, answered, 'what your majesty pleases[ ].' he admitted that mr. burke's classical pun upon mr. wilkes's being carried on the shoulders of the mob,-- '... numerisque fertur lege solutus[ ],' was admirable; and though he was strangely unwilling to allow to that extraordinary man the talent of wit[ ], he also laughed with approbation at another of his playful conceits; which was, that 'horace has in one line given a description of a good desirable manour:-- "est modus in rebus, sunt certi denique fines[ ];" that is to say, a _modus_[ ] as to the tithes and certain _fines_[ ].' he observed, 'a man cannot with propriety speak of himself, except he relates simple facts; as, "i was at richmond:" or what depends on mensuration; as, "i am six feet high." he is sure he has been at richmond; he is sure he is six feet high: but he cannot be sure he is wise, or that he has any other excellence. then, all censure of a man's self is oblique praise. it is in order to shew how much he can spare. it has all the invidiousness of self-praise, and all the reproach of falsehood.' boswell. 'sometimes it may proceed from a man's strong consciousness of his faults being observed. he knows that others would throw him down, and therefore he had better lye down softly of his own accord.' on tuesday, april , he was engaged to dine at general paoli's, where, as i have already observed[ ], i was still entertained in elegant hospitality, and with all the ease and comfort of a home. i called on him, and accompanied him in a hackney-coach. we stopped first at the bottom of hedge-lane, into which he went to leave a letter, 'with good news for a poor man in distress,' as he told me[ ]. i did not question him particularly as to this. he himself often resembled lady bolingbroke's lively description of pope; that 'he was _un politique aux choux et aux raves_.'[ ].' he would say, 'i dine to-day in grosvenor-square;' this might be with a duke[ ]: or, perhaps, 'i dine to-day at the other end of the town:' or, 'a gentleman of great eminence called on me yesterday.' he loved thus to keep things floating in conjecture: _omne ignotum pro magnifico est_.[ ]. i believe i ventured to dissipate the cloud, to unveil the mystery, more freely and frequently than any of his friends. we stopped again at wirgman's, the well-known _toy-shop_[ ], in st. james's-street, at the corner of st. james's-place, to which he had been directed, but not clearly, for he searched about some time, and could not find it at first; and said, 'to direct one only to a corner shop is _toying_ with one.' i suppose he meant this as a play upon the word _toy_: it was the first time that i knew him stoop to such sport[ ]. after he had been some time in the shop, he sent for me to come out of the coach, and help him to choose a pair of silver buckles, as those he had were too small. probably this alteration in dress had been suggested by mrs. thrale, by associating with whom, his external appearance was much improved. he got better cloaths; and the dark colour, from which he never deviated, was enlivened by metal buttons. his wigs, too, were much better; and during their travels in france, he was furnished with a paris-made wig, of handsome construction[ ]. this choosing of silver buckles was a negociation: 'sir (said he), i will not have the ridiculous large ones now in fashion; and i will give no more than a guinea for a pair.' such were the _principles_ of the business; and, after some examination, he was fitted. as we drove along, i found him in a talking humour, of which i availed myself. boswell. 'i was this morning in ridley's shop, sir; and was told, that the collection called _johnsoniana_[ ] has sold very much.' johnson. 'yet the _journey to the hebrides_ has not had a great sale[ ].' boswell. 'that is strange.' johnson. 'yes, sir; for in that book i have told the world a great deal that they did not know before.' boswell. 'i drank chocolate, sir, this morning with mr. eld; and, to my no small surprize, found him to be a _staffordshire whig_[ ], a being which i did not believe had existed.' johnson. 'sir, there are rascals in all countries.' boswell. 'eld said, a tory was a creature generated between a non-juring parson and one's grandmother.' johnson. 'and i have always said, the first whig was the devil[ ].' boswell. 'he certainly was, sir. the devil was impatient of subordination; he was the first who resisted power:-- "better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven[ ]."' at general paoli's were sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, marchese gherardi of lombardy, and mr. john spottiswoode the younger, of spottiswoode[ ], the solicitor. at this time fears of an invasion were circulated; to obviate which, mr. spottiswoode observed, that mr. fraser the engineer, who had lately come from dunkirk, said, that the french had the same fears of us. johnson. 'it is thus that mutual cowardice keeps us in peace. were one half of mankind brave, and one half cowards, the brave would be always beating the cowards. were all brave, they would lead a very uneasy life; all would be continually fighting: but being all cowards, we go on very well[ ].' we talked of drinking wine. johnson. 'i require wine, only when i am alone. i have then often wished for it, and often taken it[ ].' spottiswoode. 'what, by way of a companion, sir?' johnson. 'to get rid of myself, to send myself away. wine gives great pleasure; and every pleasure is of itself a good. it is a good, unless counterbalanced by evil. a man may have a strong reason not to drink wine; and that may be greater than the pleasure. wine makes a man better pleased with himself. i do not say that it makes him more pleasing to others. sometimes it does. but the danger is, that while a man grows better pleased with himself, he may be growing less pleasing to others[ ]. wine gives a man nothing. it neither gives him knowledge nor wit; it only animates a man, and enables him to bring out what a dread of the company has repressed. it only puts in motion what has been locked up in frost. but this may be good, or it may be bad[ ].' spottiswoode. 'so, sir, wine is a key which opens a box; but this box may be either full or empty.' johnson. 'nay, sir, conversation is the key: wine is a pick-lock, which forces open the box and injures it. a man should cultivate his mind so as to have that confidence and readiness without wine, which wine gives.' boswell. 'the great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. for instance, a good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, which he has had twenty years in his cellar.' johnson. 'sir, all this notion about benevolence arises from a man's imagining himself to be of more importance to others, than he really is. they don't care a farthing whether he drinks wine or not.' sir joshua reynolds. 'yes, they do for the time.' johnson. 'for the time!--if they care this minute, they forget it the next. and as for the good worthy man; how do you know he is good and worthy? no good and worthy man will insist upon another man's drinking wine. as to the wine twenty years in the cellar,--of ten men, three say this, merely because they must say something;--three are telling a lie, when they say they have had the wine twenty years;--three would rather save the wine;--one, perhaps, cares. i allow it is something to please one's company: and people are always pleased with those who partake pleasure with them. but after a man has brought himself to relinquish the great personal pleasure which arises from drinking wine, any other consideration is a trifle. to please others by drinking wine, is something only, if there be nothing against it. i should, however, be sorry to offend worthy men:-- "curst be the verse, how well so e'er it flow, that tends to make one worthy man my foe[ ]."' boswell. 'curst be the _spring_, the _water_.' johnson. 'but let us consider what a sad thing it would be, if we were obliged to drink or do any thing else that may happen to be agreeable to the company where we are.' langton. 'by the same rule you must join with a gang of cut-purses.' johnson. 'yes, sir: but yet we must do justice to wine; we must allow it the power it possesses. to make a man pleased with himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing[ ]; "_si patriæ volumus, si_ nobis _vivere cari_[ ].'" i was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by johnson's recommendation[ ]. johnson. 'boswell is a bolder combatant than sir joshua: he argues for wine without the help of wine; but sir joshua with it.' sir joshua reynolds. 'but to please one's company is a strong motive.' johnson. (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body who drank wine to be elevated,) 'i won't argue any more with you, sir. you are too far gone[ ].' sir joshua. 'i should have thought so indeed, sir, had i made such a speech as you have now done.' johnson (drawing himself in, and, i really thought blushing,) 'nay, don't be angry. i did not mean to offend you.' sir joshua. 'at first the taste of wine was disagreeable to me; but i brought myself to drink it, that i might be like other people. the pleasure of drinking wine is so connected with pleasing your company, that altogether there is something of social goodness in it.' johnson. 'sir, this is only saying the same thing over again.' sir joshua. 'no, this is new.' johnson. 'you put it in new words, but it is an old thought. this is one of the disadvantages of wine. it makes a man mistake words for thoughts.' boswell. 'i think it is a new thought; at least, it is in a new _attitude_.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is only in a new coat; or an old coat with a new facing. (then laughing heartily) it is the old dog in a new doublet.--an extraordinary instance however may occur where a man's patron will do nothing for him, unless he will drink: _there_ may be a good reason for drinking.' i mentioned a nobleman[ ], who i believed was really uneasy if his company would not drink hard. johnson. 'that is from having had people about him whom he has been accustomed to command.' boswell. 'supposing i should be _tête-à-tête_ with him at table.' johnson. 'sir, there is no more reason for your drinking with _him_, than his being sober with _you_.' boswell. 'why that is true; for it would do him less hurt to be sober, than it would do me to get drunk.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and from what i have heard of him, one would not wish to sacrifice himself to such a man. if he must always have somebody to drink with him, he should buy a slave, and then he would be sure to have it. they who submit to drink as another pleases, make themselves his slaves.' boswell. 'but, sir, you will surely make allowance for the duty of hospitality. a gentleman who loves drinking, comes to visit me.' johnson. 'sir, a man knows whom he visits; he comes to the table of a sober man.' boswell. 'but, sir, you and i should not have been so well received in the highlands and hebrides, if i had not drunk with our worthy friends. had i drunk water only as you did, they would not have been so cordial.' johnson. 'sir william temple mentions that in his travels through the netherlands he had two or three gentlemen with him; and when a bumper was necessary, he put it on _them_[ ]. were i to travel again through the islands, i would have sir joshua with me to take the bumpers.' boswell. 'but, sir, let me put a case. suppose sir joshua should take a jaunt into scotland; he does me the honour to pay me a visit at my house in the country; i am overjoyed at seeing him; we are quite by ourselves, shall i unsociably and churlishly let him sit drinking by himself? no, no, my dear sir joshua, you shall not be treated so, i _will_ take a bottle with you.' the celebrated mrs. rudd being mentioned. johnson. 'fifteen years ago i should have gone to see her.' spottiswoode. 'because she was fifteen years younger?' johnson. 'no, sir; but now they have a trick of putting every thing into the newspapers[ ].' he begged of general paoli to repeat one of the introductory stanzas of the first book of tasso's _jerusalem_, which he did, and then johnson found fault with the simile of sweetening the edges of a cup for a child, being transferred from lucretius into an epick poem[ ]. the general said he did not imagine homer's poetry was so ancient as is supposed, because he ascribes to a greek colony circumstances of refinement not found in greece itself at a later period, when thucydides wrote. johnson. 'i recollect but one passage quoted by thucydides from homer, which is not to be found in our copies of homer's works; i am for the antiquity of homer, and think that a grecian colony, by being nearer persia, might be more refined than the mother country.' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. allan ramsay's, where were lord binning, dr. robertson the historian, sir joshua reynolds, and the honourable mrs. boscawen, widow of the admiral, and mother of the present viscount falmouth; of whom, if it be not presumptuous in me to praise her, i would say, that her manners are the most agreeable, and her conversation the best, of any lady with whom i ever had the happiness to be acquainted. before johnson came we talked a good deal of him; ramsay said he had always found him a very polite man, and that he treated him with great respect, which he did very sincerely. i said i worshipped him. robertson. 'but some of you spoil him; you should not worship him; you should worship no man.' boswell. 'i cannot help worshipping him, he is so much superiour to other men.' robertson. 'in criticism, and in wit in conversation, he is no doubt very excellent; but in other respects he is not above other men; he will believe any thing[ ], and will strenuously defend the most minute circumstance connected with the church of england.' boswell. 'believe me, doctor, you are much mistaken as to this; for when you talk with him calmly in private[ ], he is very liberal in his way of thinking.' robertson. 'he and i have been always very gracious[ ]; the first time i met him was one evening at strahan's, when he had just had an unlucky altercation with adam smith[ ], to whom he had been so rough, that strahan, after smith was gone, had remonstrated with him, and told him that i was coming soon, and that he was uneasy to think that he might behave in the same manner to me. "no, no, sir, (said johnson) i warrant you robertson and i shall do very well." accordingly he was gentle and good-humoured, and courteous with me the whole evening; and he has been so upon every occasion that we have met since. i have often said (laughing) that i have been in a great measure indebted to smith for my good reception.' boswell. 'his power of reasoning is very strong, and he has a peculiar art of drawing characters, which is as rare as good portrait painting.' sir joshua reynolds. 'he is undoubtedly admirable in this; but, in order to mark the characters which he draws, he overcharges them, and gives people more than they really have, whether of good or bad.' no sooner did he, of whom we had been thus talking so easily, arrive, than we were all as quiet as a school upon the entrance of the head-master[ ]; and were very soon set down to a table covered with such variety of good things, as contributed not a little to dispose him to be pleased. ramsay. 'i am old enough to have been a contemporary of pope. his poetry was highly admired in his life-time, more a great deal than after his death[ ].' johnson. 'sir, it has not been less admired since his death; no authours ever had so much fame in their own life-time as pope and voltaire; and pope's poetry has been as much admired since his death as during his life; it has only not been as much talked of, but that is owing to its being now more distant, and people having other writings to talk of. virgil is less talked of than pope, and homer is less talked of than virgil; but they are not less admired. we must read what the world reads at the moment. it has been maintained that this superfoetation, this teeming of the press in modern times, is prejudicial to good literature, because it obliges us to read so much of what is of inferiour value, in order to be in the fashion; so that better works are neglected for want of time, because a man will have more gratification of his vanity in conversation, from having read modern books, than from having read the best works of antiquity. but it must be considered, that we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now, which is a great extension[ ]. modern writers are the moons of literature; they shine with reflected light, with light borrowed from the ancients. greece appears to me to be the fountain of knowledge; rome of elegance.' ramsay. 'i suppose homer's _iliad_ to be a collection of pieces which had been written before his time. i should like to see a translation of it in poetical prose like the book of ruth or job.' robertson. 'would you, dr. johnson, who are master of the english language, but try your hand upon a part of it.' johnson. 'sir, you could not read it without the pleasure of verse[ ].' we talked of antiquarian researches. johnson. 'all that is really _known_ of the ancient state of britain is contained in a few pages. we _can_ know no more than what the old writers have told us; yet what large books have we upon it, the whole of which, excepting such parts as are taken from those old writers, is all a dream, such as whitaker's _manchester_[ ]. i have heard henry's _history of britain_ well spoken of: i am told it is carried on in separate divisions, as the civil, the military, the religious history: i wish much to have one branch well done, and that is the history of manners, of common life.' robertson. 'henry should have applied his attention to that alone, which is enough for any man; and he might have found a great deal scattered in various books, had he read solely with that view. henry erred in not selling his first volume at a moderate price to the booksellers, that they might have pushed him on till he had got reputation[ ]. i sold my _history of scotland_ at a moderate price[ ], as a work by which the booksellers might either gain or not; and cadell has told me that millar and he have got six thousand pounds by it. i afterwards received a much higher price for my writings. an authour should sell his first work for what the booksellers will give, till it shall appear whether he is an authour of merit, or, which is the same thing as to purchase-money, an authour who pleases the publick.' dr. robertson expatiated on the character of a certain nobleman[ ]; that he was one of the strongest-minded men that ever lived; that he would sit in company quite sluggish, while there was nothing to call forth his intellectual vigour; but the moment that any important subject was started, for instance, how this country is to be defended against a french invasion, he would rouse himself, and shew his extraordinary talents with the most powerful ability and animation. johnson. 'yet this man cut his own throat. the true strong and sound mind is the mind that can embrace equally great things and small. now i am told the king of prussia will say to a servant, "bring me a bottle of such a wine, which came in such a year; it lies in such a corner of the cellars." i would have a man great in great things, and elegant in little things.' he said to me afterwards, when we were by ourselves, 'robertson was in a mighty romantick humour[ ], he talked of one whom he did not know; but i _downed_[ ] him with the king of prussia.' 'yes, sir, (said i,) you threw a _bottle_ at his head.' an ingenious gentleman was mentioned, concerning whom both robertson and ramsay agreed that he had a constant firmness of mind; for after a laborious day, and amidst a multiplicity of cares and anxieties, he would sit down with his sisters and be quite cheerful and good-humoured. such a disposition, it was observed, was a happy gift of nature. johnson. 'i do not think so; a man has from nature a certain portion of mind; the use he makes of it depends upon his own free will. that a man has always the same firmness of mind i do not say; because every man feels his mind less firm at one time than another; but i think a man's being in a good or bad humour depends upon his will.' i, however, could not help thinking that a man's humour is often uncontroulable by his will. johnson harangued against drinking wine[ ]. 'a man (said he) may choose whether he will have abstemiousness and knowledge, or claret and ignorance.' dr. robertson, (who is very companionable,) was beginning to dissent as to the proscription of claret[ ]. johnson: (with a placid smile.) 'nay, sir, you shall not differ with me; as i have said that the man is most perfect who takes in the most things, i am for knowledge and claret.' robertson: (holding a glass of generous claret in his hand.) 'sir, i can only drink your health.' johnson. 'sir, i should be sorry if _you_ should be ever in such a state as to be able to do nothing more.' robertson. 'dr. johnson, allow me to say, that in one respect i have the advantage of you; when you were in scotland you would not come to hear any of our preachers[ ], whereas, when i am here, i attend your publick worship without scruple, and indeed, with great satisfaction.' johnson. 'why, sir, that is not so extraordinary: the king of siam sent ambassadors to louis the fourteenth; but louis the fourteenth sent none to the king of siam[ ].' here my friend for once discovered a want of knowledge or forgetfulness; for louis the fourteenth did send an embassy to the king of siam, and the abbé choisi, who was employed in it, published an account of it in two volumes[ ]. next day, thursday, april , i found him at home by himself. johnson. 'well, sir, ramsay gave us a splendid dinner. i love ramsay. you will not find a man in whose conversation there is more instruction, more information, and more elegance, than in ramsay's.' boswell. 'what i admire in ramsay, is his continuing to be so young.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir, it is to be admired. i value myself upon this, that there is nothing of the old man in my conversation. i am now sixty-eight, and i have no more of it than at twenty-eight[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, would not you wish to know old age? he who is never an old man, does not know the whole of human life; for old age is one of the divisions of it.' johnson. 'nay, sir, what talk is this?' boswell. 'i mean, sir, the sphinx's description of it;--morning, noon, and night. i would know night, as well as morning and noon.' johnson. 'what, sir, would you know what it is to feel the evils of old age? would you have the gout? would you have decrepitude?'--seeing him heated, i would not argue any farther; but i was confident that i was in the right. i would, in due time, be a nestor, an elder of the people; and there _should_ be some difference between the conversation of twenty-eight and sixty-eight. a grave picture should not be gay. there is a serene, solemn, placid old age. johnson. 'mrs. thrale's mother said of me what flattered me much. a clergyman was complaining of want of society in the country where he lived; and said, "they talk of _runts_;" (that is, young cows). "sir, (said mrs. salusbury,) mr. johnson would learn to talk of runts:" meaning that i was a man who would make the most of my situation, whatever it was.' he added, 'i think myself a very polite man[ ].' on saturday, may , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, where there was a very large company, and a great deal of conversation; but owing to some circumstance which i cannot now recollect, i have no record of any part of it, except that there were several people there by no means of the johnsonian school; so that less attention was paid to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that i was vexed and angry, because it gave those persons an opportunity of enlarging upon his supposed ferocity, and ill treatment of his best friends. i was so much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that i kept away from him for a week; and, perhaps, might have kept away much longer, nay, gone to scotland without seeing him again, had not we fortunately met and been reconciled. to such unhappy chances are human friendships liable[ ]. on friday, may , i dined with him at mr. langton's. i was reserved and silent, which i suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause. after dinner when mr. langton was called out of the room, and we were by ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of conciliating courtesy[ ], 'well, how have you done?' boswell. 'sir, you have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last at sir joshua reynolds's. you know, my dear sir, no man has a greater respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the world to serve you. now to treat me so--.' he insisted that i had interrupted him, which i assured him was not the case; and proceeded-- 'but why treat me so before people who neither love you nor me?' johnson. 'well, i am sorry for it. i'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you please.' boswell. 'i said to-day to sir joshua, when he observed that you _tossed_[ ] me sometimes--i don't care how often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then i fall upon soft ground: but i do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present.--i think this a pretty good image, sir.' johnson. 'sir, it is one of the happiest i have ever heard.' the truth is, there was no venom in the wounds which he inflicted at any time, unless they were irritated by some malignant infusion by other hands. we were instantly as cordial again as ever, and joined in hearty laugh at some ludicrous but innocent peculiarities of one of our friends[ ]. boswell. 'do you think, sir, it is always culpable to laugh at a man to his face?' johnson. 'why, sir, that depends upon the man and the thing. if it is a slight man, and a slight thing, you may; for you take nothing valuable from him.' he said, 'i read yesterday dr. blair's sermon[ ] on devotion, from the text "_cornelius, a devout man_[ ]." his doctrine is the best limited, the best expressed: there is the most warmth without fanaticism, the most rational transport. there is one part of it which i disapprove, and i'd have him correct it; which is, that "he who does not feel joy in religion is far from the kingdom of heaven!" there are many good men whose fear of god predominates over their love. it may discourage. it was rashly said. a noble sermon it is indeed. i wish blair would come over to the church of england.' when mr. langton returned to us, the 'flow of talk' went on. an eminent author[ ] being mentioned;--johnson. 'he is not a pleasant man. his conversation is neither instructive nor brilliant. he does not talk as if impelled by any fulness of knowledge or vivacity of imagination. his conversation is like that of any other sensible man. he talks with no wish either to inform or to hear, but only because he thinks it does not become ---- to sit in a company and say nothing.' mr. langton having repeated the anecdote of addison having distinguished between his powers in conversation and in writing, by saying 'i have only nine-pence in my pocket; but i can draw for a thousand pounds[ ];'--johnson. 'he had not that retort ready, sir; he had prepared it before-hand.' langton: (turning to me.) 'a fine surmise. set a thief to catch a thief.' johnson called the east-indians barbarians. boswell. 'you will except the chinese, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir.' boswell. 'have they not arts?' johnson. 'they have pottery.' boswell. 'what do you say to the written characters of their language? 'johnson. 'sir, they have not an alphabet. they have not been able to form what all other nations have formed.' boswell. 'there is more learning in their language than in any other, from the immense number of their characters.' johnson. 'it is only more difficult from its rudeness; as there is more labour in hewing down a tree with a stone than with an axe.' he said, 'i have been reading lord kames's _sketches of the history of man_. in treating of severity of punishment, he mentions that of madame lapouchin, in russia, but he does not give it fairly; for i have looked at _chappe d'auteroche_[ ], from whom he has taken it. he stops where it is said that the spectators thought her innocent, and leaves out what follows; that she nevertheless was guilty. now this is being as culpable as one can conceive, to misrepresent fact in a book, and for what motive? it is like one of those lies which people tell, one cannot see why. the woman's life was spared; and no punishment was too great for the favourite of an empress who had conspired to dethrone her mistress.' boswell. 'he was only giving a picture of the lady in her sufferings.' johnson. 'nay, don't endeavour to palliate this. guilt is a principal feature in the picture. kames is puzzled with a question that puzzled me when i was a very young man. why is it that the interest of money is lower, when money is plentiful; for five pounds has the same proportion of value to a hundred pounds when money is plentiful, as when it is scarce? a lady explained it to me. "it is (said she) because when money is plentiful there are so many more who have money to lend, that they bid down one another. many have then a hundred pounds; and one says,--take mine rather than another's, and you shall have it at four _per cent_."' boswell. 'does lord kames decide the question?' johnson. 'i think he leaves it as he found it[ ].' boswell. 'this must have been an extraordinary lady who instructed you, sir. may i ask who she was?' johnson. 'molly aston[ ], sir, the sister of those ladies with whom you dined at lichfield[ ]. i shall be at home to-morrow.' boswell. 'then let us dine by ourselves at the mitre, to keep up the old custom, "the custom of the manor," the custom of the mitre.' johnson. 'sir, so it shall be.' on saturday, may , we fulfilled our purpose of dining by ourselves at the mitre, according to old custom. there was, on these occasions, a little circumstance of kind attention to mrs. williams, which must not be omitted. before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest. our conversation to-day, i know not how, turned, (i think for the only time at any length, during our long acquaintance,) upon the sensual intercourse between the sexes, the delight of which he ascribed chiefly to imagination. 'were it not for imagination, sir, (said he,) a man would be as happy in the arms of a chambermaid as of a duchess. but such is the adventitious charm of fancy, that we find men who have violated the best principles of society, and ruined their fame and their fortune, that they might possess a woman of rank.' it would not be proper to record the particulars of such a conversation in moments of unreserved frankness, when nobody was present on whom it could have any hurtful effect. that subject, when philosophically treated, may surely employ the mind in as curious discussion, and as innocently, as anatomy; provided that those who do treat it keep clear of inflammatory incentives. 'from grave to gay, from lively to severe[ ],'--we were soon engaged in very different speculation; humbly and reverently considering and wondering at the universal mystery of all things, as our imperfect faculties can now judge of them. 'there are (said he) innumerable questions to which the inquisitive mind can in this state receive no answer: why do you and i exist? why was this world created? since it was to be created, why was it not created sooner?' on sunday, may , i supped with him at mr. hoole's, with sir joshua reynolds. i have neglected the memorial of this evening, so as to remember no more of it than two particulars; one, that he strenuously opposed an argument by sir joshua, that virtue was preferable to vice, considering this life only; and that a man would be virtuous were it only to preserve his character: and that he expressed much wonder at the curious formation of the bat, a mouse with wings; saying, that 'it was almost as strange a thing in physiology, as if the fabulous dragon could be seen.' on tuesday, may , i waited on the earl of marchmont, to know if his lordship would favour dr. johnson with information concerning pope, whose life he was about to write. johnson had not flattered himself with the hopes of receiving any civility from this nobleman; for he said to me, when i mentioned lord marchmont as one who could tell him a great deal about pope,--'sir, he will tell _me_ nothing.' i had the honour of being known to his lordship, and applied to him of myself, without being commissioned by johnson. his lordship behaved in the most polite and obliging manner, promised to tell all he recollected about pope, and was so very courteous as to say, 'tell dr. johnson i have a great respect for him, and am ready to shew it in any way i can. i am to be in the city to-morrow, and will call at his house as i return.' his lordship however asked, 'will he write the lives of the poets impartially? he was the first that brought whig and tory into a dictionary[ ]. and what do you think of his definition of excise? do you know the history of his aversion to the word _transpire_[ ]?' then taking down the folio _dictionary_, he shewed it with this censure on its secondary sense: 'to escape from secrecy to notice; a sense lately innovated from france, without necessity[ ].' the truth was lord bolingbroke, who left the jacobites, first used it; therefore, it was to be condemned. 'he should have shewn what word would do for it, if it was unnecessary.' i afterwards put the question to johnson: 'why, sir, (said he,) _get abroad_.' boswell. 'that, sir, is using two words[ ].' johnson. 'sir, there is no end of this. you may as well insist to have a word for old age.' boswell. 'well, sir, _senectus_.' johnson. 'nay, sir, to insist always that there should be one word to express a thing in english, because there is one in another language, is to change the language.' i availed myself of this opportunity to hear from his lordship many particulars both of pope and lord bolingbroke, which i have in writing[ ]. i proposed to lord marchmont that he should revise johnson's _life of pope_: 'so (said his lordship) you would put me in a dangerous situation. you know he knocked down osborne the bookseller[ ].' elated with the success of my spontaneous exertion to procure material and respectable aid to johnson for his very favourite work, _the lives of the poets_, i hastened down to mr. thrale's at streatham, where he now was, that i might insure his being at home next day; and after dinner, when i thought he would receive the good news in the best humour, i announced it eagerly: 'i have been at work for you to-day, sir. i have been with lord marchmont. he bade me tell you he has a great respect for you, and will call on you to-morrow at one o'clock, and communicate all he knows about pope.'--here i paused, in full expectation that he would be pleased with this intelligence, would praise my active merit, and would be alert to embrace such an offer from a nobleman. but whether i had shewn an over-exultation, which provoked his spleen; or whether he was seized with a suspicion that i had obtruded him on lord marchmont, and humbled him too much; or whether there was any thing more than an unlucky fit of ill-humour, i know not; but, to my surprize, the result was,--johnson. 'i shall not be in town to-morrow. i don't care to know about pope.' mrs. thrale: (surprized as i was, and a little angry.) 'i suppose, sir, mr. boswell thought, that as you are to write _pope's life_, you would wish to know about him.' johnson. 'wish! why yes. if it rained knowledge i'd hold out my hand; but i would not give myself the trouble to go in quest of it.' there was no arguing with him at the moment. some time afterwards he said, 'lord marchmont will call on me, and then i shall call on lord marchmont.' mr. thrale was uneasy at his unaccountable caprice[ ]; and told me, that if i did not take care to bring about a meeting between lord marchmont and him, it would never take place, which would be a great pity. i sent a card to his lordship, to be left at johnson's house, acquainting him, that dr. johnson could not be in town next day, but would do himself the honour of waiting on him at another time. i give this account fairly, as a specimen of that unhappy temper with which this great and good man had occasionally to struggle, from something morbid in his constitution. let the most censorious of my readers suppose himself to have a violent fit of the tooth-ach, or to have received a severe stroke on the shin-bone, and when in such a state to be asked a question; and if he has any candour, he will not be surprized at the answers which johnson sometimes gave in moments of irritation, which, let me assure them, is exquisitely painful. but it must not be erroneously supposed that he was, in the smallest degree, careless concerning any work which he undertook, or that he was generally thus peevish. it will be seen, that in the following year he had a very agreeable interview with lord marchmont, at his lordship's house[ ]; and this very afternoon he soon forgot any fretfulness, and fell into conversation as usual. i mentioned a reflection having been thrown out against four peers for having presumed to rise in opposition to the opinion of the twelve judges, in a cause in the house of lords[ ], as if that were indecent. johnson. 'sir, there is no ground for censure. the peers are judges themselves; and supposing them really to be of a different opinion, they might from duty be in opposition to the judges, who were there only to be consulted.' in this observation i fully concurred with him; for, unquestionably, all the peers are vested with the highest judicial powers; and when they are confident that they understand a cause, are not obliged, nay ought not to acquiesce in the opinion of the ordinary law judges, or even in that of those who from their studies and experience are called the law lords. i consider the peers in general as i do a jury, who ought to listen with respectful attention to the sages of the law; but, if after hearing them, they have a firm opinion of their own, are bound, as honest men, to decide accordingly. nor is it so difficult for them to understand even law questions, as is generally thought; provided they will bestow sufficient attention upon them. this observation was made by my honoured relation the late lord cathcart, who had spent his life in camps and courts; yet assured me, that he could form a clear opinion upon most of the causes that came before the house of lords, 'as they were so well enucleated[ ] in the cases.' mrs. thrale told us, that a curious clergyman of our acquaintance had discovered a licentious stanza, which pope had originally in his _universal prayer_, before the stanza, 'what conscience dictates to be done, or warns us[ ] not to do,' &c. it was thus:-- 'can sins of moment claim the rod of everlasting fires? and that offend great nature's god, which nature's self inspires[ ]?' and that dr. johnson observed, 'it had been borrowed from _guarini_.' there are, indeed, in _pastor fido_, many such flimsy superficial reasonings, as that in the last two lines of this stanza. boswell. 'in that stanza of pope's, "_rod of fires_" is certainly a bad metaphor.' mrs. thrale. 'and "sins of _moment_" is a faulty expression; for its true import is _momentous_, which cannot be intended.' johnson. 'it must have been written "of _moments_." of _moment_, is _momentous_; of _moments_, _momentary_. i warrant you, however, pope wrote this stanza, and some friend struck it out. boileau wrote some such thing, and arnaud[ ] struck it out, saying, "_vous gagnerez deux ou trois impies, et perdrez je ne scais combien des honnettes gens_." these fellows want to say a daring thing, and don't know how to go about it. mere poets know no more of fundamental principles than--.' here he was interrupted somehow. mrs. thrale mentioned dryden. johnson. 'he puzzled himself about predestination.--how foolish was it in pope to give all his friendship to lords, who thought they honoured him by being with him; and to choose such lords as burlington, and cobham, and bolingbroke! bathurst was negative, a pleasing man; and i have heard no ill of marchmont; and then always saying, "i do not value you for being a lord;" which was a sure proof that he did[ ]. i never say, i do not value boswell more for being born to an estate, because i do not care.' boswell. 'nor for being a scotchman?' johnson. 'nay, sir, i do value you more for being a scotchman. you are a scotchman without the faults of a scotchman. you would not have been so valuable as you are, had you not been a scotchman.' talking of divorces, i asked if othello's doctrine was not plausible? 'he that is robb'd, not wanting what is stolen, let him not know't, and he's not robb'd at all[ ].' dr. johnson and mrs. thrale joined against this. johnson. 'ask any man if he'd wish not to know of such an injury.' boswell. 'would you tell your friend to make him unhappy?' johnson. 'perhaps, sir, i should not; but that would be from prudence on my own account. a man would tell his father.' boswell. 'yes; because he would not have spurious children to get any share of the family inheritance.' mrs. thrale. 'or he would tell his brother.' boswell. 'certainly his _elder_ brother.' johnson. 'you would tell your friend of a woman's infamy, to prevent his marrying a whore: there is the same reason to tell him of his wife's infidelity, when he is married, to prevent the consequences of imposition. it is a breach of confidence not to tell a friend.' boswell. 'would you tell mr.----[ ]?' (naming a gentleman who assuredly was not in the least danger of such a miserable disgrace, though married to a fine woman.) johnson. 'no, sir; because it would do no good: he is so sluggish, he'd never go to parliament and get through a divorce.' he said of one of our friends[ ], 'he is ruining himself without pleasure. a man who loses at play, or who runs out his fortune at court, makes his estate less, in hopes of making it bigger: (i am sure of this word, which was often used by him:) but it is a sad thing to pass through the quagmire of parsimony, to the gulph of ruin. to pass over the flowery path of extravagance is very well.' amongst the numerous prints pasted[ ] on the walls of the dining-room at streatham, was hogarth's 'modern midnight conversation.' i asked him what he knew of parson ford[ ], who makes a conspicuous figure in the riotous group. johnson. 'sir, he was my acquaintance and relation, my mother's nephew. he had purchased a living in the country, but not simoniacally. i never saw him but in the country. i have been told he was a man of great parts; very profligate, but i never heard he was impious.' boswell. 'was there not a story of his ghost having appeared?' johnson. 'sir, it was believed. a waiter at the hummums[ ], in which house ford died, had been absent for some time, and returned, not knowing that ford was dead. going down to the cellar, according to the story, he met him; going down again he met him a second time. when he came up, he asked some of the people of the house what ford could be doing there. they told him ford was dead. the waiter took a fever, in which he lay for some time. when he recovered, he said he had a message to deliver to some women from ford; but he was not to tell what, or to whom. he walked out; he was followed; but somewhere about st. paul's they lost him. he came back, and said he had delivered the message, and the women exclaimed, "then we are all undone!" dr. pellet, who was not a credulous man, inquired into the truth of this story, and he said, the evidence was irresistible. my wife went to the hummums; (it is a place where people get themselves cupped.) i believe she went with intention to hear about this story of ford. at first they were unwilling to tell her; but, after they had talked to her, she came away satisfied that it was true. to be sure the man had a fever; and this vision may have been the beginning of it. but if the message to the women, and their behaviour upon it, were true as related, there was something supernatural. that rests upon his word; and there it remains.' after mrs. thrale was gone to bed, johnson and i sat up late. we resumed sir joshua reynolds's argument on the preceding sunday, that a man would be virtuous though he had no other motive than to preserve his character. johnson. 'sir, it is not true: for as to this world vice does not hurt a man's character.' boswell. 'yes, sir, debauching a friend's wife will.' johnson. 'no, sir. who thinks the worse of ----[ ] for it?' boswell. 'lord ----[ ] was not his friend.' johnson. 'that is only a circumstance, sir; a slight distinction. he could not get into the house but by lord ----. a man is chosen knight of the shire, not the less for having debauched ladies.' boswell. 'what, sir, if he debauched the ladies of gentlemen in the county, will not there be a general resentment against him?' johnson. 'no, sir. he will lose those particular gentlemen; but the rest will not trouble their heads about it.' (warmly.) boswell. 'well, sir, i cannot think so.' johnson. 'nay, sir, there is no talking with a man who will dispute what every body knows, (angrily.) don't you know this?' boswell. 'no, sir; and i wish to think better of your country than you represent it. i knew in scotland a gentleman obliged to leave it for debauching a lady; and in one of our counties an earl's brother lost his election, because he had debauched the lady of another earl in that county, and destroyed the peace of a noble family.' still he would not yield. he proceeded: 'will you not allow, sir, that vice does not hurt a man's character so as to obstruct his prosperity in life, when you know that ----[ ] was loaded with wealth and honours; a man who had acquired his fortune by such crimes, that his consciousness of them impelled him to cut his own throat.' boswell. 'you will recollect, sir, that dr. robertson said, he cut his throat because he was weary of still life; little things not being sufficient to move his great mind.' johnson, (very angry.) 'nay, sir, what stuff is this! you had no more this opinion after robertson said it, than before. i know nothing more offensive than repeating what one knows to be foolish things, by way of continuing a dispute, to see what a man will answer,--to make him your butt!' (angrier still.) boswell. 'my dear sir, i had no such intentions as you seem to suspect; i had not indeed. might not this nobleman have felt every thing "weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable[ ]," as hamlet says?' johnson. 'nay, if you are to bring in gabble, i'll talk no more. i will not, upon my honour.'--my readers will decide upon this dispute. next morning i stated to mrs. thrale at breakfast, before he came down, the dispute of last night as to the influence of character upon success in life. she said he was certainly wrong; and told me, that a baronet lost an election in wales, because he had debauched the sister of a gentleman in the county, whom he made one of his daughters invite as her companion at his seat in the country, when his lady and his other children were in london. but she would not encounter johnson upon the subject. i staid all this day with him at streatham. he talked a great deal, in very good humour. looking at messrs. dilly's splendid edition of lord chesterfield's miscellaneous works, he laughed, and said, 'here now are two speeches ascribed to him, both of which were written by me: and the best of it is, they have found out that one is like demosthenes, and the other like cicero[ ].' he censured lord kames's _sketches of the history of man_[ ], for misrepresenting clarendon's account of the appearance of sir george villiers's ghost, as if clarendon were weakly credulous; when the truth is, that clarendon only says, that the story was upon a better foundation of credit, than usually such discourses are founded upon[ ]; nay, speaks thus of the person who was reported to have seen the vision, 'the poor man, _if he had been at all waking_;' which lord kames has omitted. he added, 'in this book it is maintained that virtue is natural to man, and that if we would but consult our own hearts we should be virtuous.[ ] now after consulting our own hearts all we can, and with all the helps we have, we find how few of us are virtuous. this is saying a thing which all mankind know not to be true.' boswell. 'is not modesty natural?' johnson. 'i cannot say, sir, as we find no people quite in a state of nature; but i think the more they are taught, the more modest they are. the french are a gross, ill-bred, untaught people; a lady there will spit on the floor and rub it with her foot.[ ] what i gained by being in france was, learning to be better satisfied with my own country. time may be employed to more advantage from nineteen to twenty-four almost in any way than in travelling; when you set travelling against mere negation, against doing nothing, it is better to be sure; but how much more would a young man improve were he to study during those years. indeed, if a young man is wild, and must run after women and bad company, it is better this should be done abroad, as, on his return, he can break off such connections, and begin at home a new man, with a character to form, and acquaintances to make[ ]. how little does travelling supply to the conversation of any man who has travelled; how little to beauclerk!' boswell. 'what say you to lord ----?' johnson. 'i never but once heard him talk of what he had seen, and that was of a large serpent in one of the pyramids of egypt.' boswell. 'well, i happened to hear him tell the same thing, which made me mention him[ ].' i talked of a country life. johnson. 'were i to live in the country, i would not devote myself to the acquisition of popularity; i would live in a much better way, much more happily; i would have my time at my own command[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, is it not a sad thing to be at a distance from all our literary friends?' johnson. 'sir, you will by and by have enough of this conversation, which now delights you so much.' [ ] as he was a zealous friend of subordination, he was at all times watchful to repress the vulgar cant against the manners of the great; [ ] high people, sir, (said he,) are the best; take a hundred ladies of quality, you'll find them better wives, better mothers, more willing to sacrifice their own pleasure to their children than a hundred other women. tradeswomen (i mean the wives of tradesmen) in the city, who are worth from ten to fifteen thousand pounds, are the worst creatures upon the earth, grossly ignorant, and thinking viciousness fashionable. farmers, i think, are often worthless fellows[ ]. few lords will cheat; and, if they do, they'll be ashamed of it: farmers cheat and are not ashamed of it: they have all the sensual vices too of the nobility, with cheating into the bargain. there is as much fornication and adultery among farmers as amongst noblemen.' boswell. 'the notion of the world, sir, however is, that the morals of women of quality are worse than those in lower stations.' johnson. 'yes, sir, the licentiousness of one woman of quality makes more noise than that of a number of women in lower stations; then, sir, you are to consider the malignity of women in the city against women of quality, which will make them believe any thing of them, such as that they call their coachmen to bed. no, sir, so far as i have observed, the higher in rank, the richer ladies are, they are the better instructed and the more virtuous.' this year the reverend mr. horne published his _letter to mr. dunning on the english particle_; johnson read it, and though not treated in it with sufficient respect[ ], he had candour enough to say to mr. seward, 'were i to make a new edition of my _dictionary_, i would adopt several[ ] of mr. horne's etymologies; i hope they did not put the dog in the pillory for his libel; he has too much literature for that[ ].' on saturday, may , i dined with him at mr. beauclerk's with mr. langton, mr. steevens, dr. higgins, and some others. i regret very feelingly every instance of my remissness in recording his _memorabilia_; i am afraid it is the condition of humanity (as mr. windham, of norfolk, once observed to me, after having made an admirable speech in the house of commons, which was highly applauded, but which he afterwards perceived might have been better:) 'that we are more uneasy from thinking of our wants, than happy in thinking of our acquisitions.' this is an unreasonable mode of disturbing our tranquillity, and should be corrected; let me then comfort myself with the large treasure of johnson's conversation which i have preserved for my own enjoyment and that of the world, and let me exhibit what i have upon each occasion, whether more or less, whether a bulse[ ], or only a few sparks of a diamond. he said, 'dr. mead lived more in the broad sunshine of life than almost any man[ ].' the disaster of general burgoyne's army was then the common topic of conversation. it was asked why piling their arms was insisted upon as a matter of such consequence, when it seemed to be a circumstance so inconsiderable in itself[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, a french authour says, "_il y a beaucoup de puerilités dans la guerre_." all distinctions are trifles, because great things can seldom occur, and those distinctions are settled by custom. a savage would as willingly have his meat sent to him in the kitchen, as eat it at the table here; as men become civilized, various modes of denoting honourable preference are invented.' he this day made the observations upon the similarity between _rasselas_ and _candide_, which i have inserted in its proper place[ ], when considering his admirable philosophical romance. he said _candide_ he thought had more power in it than any thing that _voltaire_ had written. he said, 'the lyrical part of horace never can be perfectly translated; so much of the excellence is in the numbers and the expression. francis has done it the best; i'll take his, five out of six, against them all.' on sunday, may , i presented to him mr. fullarton, of fullarton, who has since distinguished himself so much in india[ ], to whom he naturally talked of travels, as mr. brydone accompanied him in his tour to sicily and malta. he said, 'the information which we have from modern travellers is much more authentick than what we had from ancient travellers; ancient travellers guessed; modern travellers measure[ ]. the swiss admit that there is but one errour in stanyan[ ]. if brydone were more attentive to his bible, he would be a good traveller[ ].' he said, 'lord chatham was a dictator; he possessed the power of putting the state in motion; now there is no power, all order is relaxed.' boswell. 'is there no hope of a change to the better?' johnson. 'why, yes, sir, when we are weary of this relaxation. so the city of london will appoint its mayors again by seniority[ ].' boswell. 'but is not that taking a mere chance for having a good or a bad mayor?' johnson. 'yes, sir; but the evil of competition is greater than that of the worst mayor that can come; besides, there is no more reason to suppose that the choice of a rabble will be right, than that chance will be right.' on tuesday, may , i was to set out for scotland in the evening. he was engaged to dine with me at mr. dilly's, i waited upon him to remind him of his appointment and attend him thither; he gave me some salutary counsel, and recommended vigorous resolution against any deviation from moral duty. boswell. 'but you would not have me to bind myself by a solemn obligation?' johnson, (much agitated) 'what! a vow--o, no, sir, a vow is a horrible thing, it is a snare for sin[ ]. the man who cannot go to heaven without a vow--may go--.' here, standing erect, in the middle of his library, and rolling grand, his pause was truly a curious compound of the solemn and the ludicrous; he half-whistled in his usual way, when pleasant, and he paused, as if checked by religious awe. methought he would have added--to hell--but was restrained. i humoured the dilemma. 'what! sir, (said i,) _in cælum jusseris ibit_[ ]?' alluding to his imitation of it,-- 'and bid him go to hell, to hell he goes.' i had mentioned to him a slight fault in his noble _imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal_, a too near recurrence of the verb _spread_, in his description of the young enthusiast at college:-- 'through all his veins the fever of renown, _spreads_ from the strong contagion of the gown; o'er bodley's dome his future labours _spread_, and bacon's mansion trembles o'er his head[ ].' he had desired me to change _spreads_ to _burns_, but for perfect authenticity, i now had it done with his own hand[ ]. i thought this alteration not only cured the fault, but was more poetical, as it might carry an allusion to the shirt by which hercules was inflamed. we had a quiet comfortable meeting at mr. dilly's; nobody there but ourselves. mr. dilly mentioned somebody having wished that milton's _tractate on education_ should be printed along with his poems in the edition of _the english poets_ then going on. johnson. 'it would be breaking in upon the plan; but would be of no great consequence. so far as it would be any thing, it would be wrong. education in england has been in danger of being hurt by two of its greatest men, milton and locke. milton's plan is impracticable, and i suppose has never been tried. locke's, i fancy, has been tried often enough, but is very imperfect; it gives too much to one side, and too little to the other; it gives too little to literature[ ].--i shall do what i can for dr. watts; but my materials are very scanty. his poems are by no means his best works; i cannot praise his poetry itself highly; but i can praise its design[ ].' my illustrious friend and i parted with assurances of affectionate regard. i wrote to him on the th of may, from thorpe in yorkshire, one of the seats of mr. bosville[ ], and gave him an account of my having passed a day at lincoln, unexpectedly, and therefore without having any letters of introduction, but that i had been honoured with civilities from the reverend mr. simpson, an acquaintance of his, and captain broadley, of the lincolnshire militia; but more particularly from the reverend dr. gordon, the chancellor, who first received me with great politeness as a stranger, and when i informed him who i was, entertained me at his house with the most flattering attention; i also expressed the pleasure with which i had found that our worthy friend langton was highly esteemed in his own county town. 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, june , . 'my dear sir, * * * * * 'since my return to scotland, i have been again at lanark, and have had more conversation with thomson's sister. it is strange that murdoch, who was his intimate friend, should have mistaken his mother's maiden name, which he says was hume, whereas hume was the name of his grandmother by the mother's side. his mother's name was beatrix trotter[ ], a daughter of mr. trotter, of fogo, a small proprietor of land. thomson had one brother, whom he had with him in england as his amanuensis; but he was seized with a consumption, and having returned to scotland, to try what his native air would do for him, died young. he had three sisters, one married to mr. bell, minister of the parish of strathaven; one to mr. craig, father of the ingenious architect, who gave the plan of the new town of edinburgh; and one to mr. thomson, master of the grammar-school at lanark. he was of a humane and benevolent disposition; not only sent valuable presents to his sisters, but a yearly allowance in money, and was always wishing to have it in his power to do them more good. lord lyttelton's observation, that "he loathed much to write," was very true. his letters to his sister, mrs. thomson, were not frequent, and in one of them he says, "all my friends who know me, know how backward i am to write letters; and never impute the negligence of my hand to the coldness of my heart." i send you a copy of the last letter which she had from him[ ]; she never heard that he had any intention of going into holy orders. from this late interview with his sister, i think much more favourably of him, as i hope you will. i am eager to see more of your prefaces to the poets; i solace myself with the few proof-sheets which i have. 'i send another parcel of lord hailes's _annals_[ ], which you will please to return to me as soon as you conveniently can. he says, "he wishes you would cut a little deeper;" but he may be proud that there is so little occasion to use the critical knife. i ever am, my dear sir, 'your faithful and affectionate, 'humble servant, 'james boswell.' mr. langton has been pleased, at my request, to favour me with some particulars of dr. johnson's visit to warley-camp, where this gentleman was at the time stationed as a captain in the lincolnshire militia[ ]. i shall give them in his own words in a letter to me. 'it was in the summer of the year [ ], that he complied with my invitation to come down to the camp at warley, and he staid with me about a week; the scene appeared, notwithstanding a great degree of ill health that he seemed to labour under, to interest and amuse him, as agreeing with the disposition that i believe you know he constantly manifested towards enquiring into subjects of the military kind. he sate, with a patient degree of attention, to observe the proceedings of a regimental court-martial, that happened to be called, in the time of his stay with us; and one night, as late as at eleven o'clock, he accompanied the major of the regiment in going what are styled the _rounds_, where he might observe the forms of visiting the guards, for the seeing that they and their sentries are ready in their duty on their several posts. he took occasion to converse at times on military topicks, one in particular, that i see the mention of, in your _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, which lies open before me[ ], as to gun-powder; which he spoke of to the same effect, in part, that you relate. 'on one occasion, when the regiment were going through their exercise, he went quite close to the men at one of the extremities of it, and watched all their practices attentively; and, when he came away, his remark was, "the men indeed do load their muskets and fire with wonderful celerity." he was likewise particular in requiring to know what was the weight of the musquet balls in use, and within what distance they might be expected to take effect when fired off. 'in walking among the tents, and observing the difference between those of the officers and private men, he said that the superiority of accommodation of the better conditions of life, to that of the inferiour ones, was never exhibited to him in so distinct a view. the civilities paid to him in the camp were, from the gentlemen of the lincolnshire regiment, one of the officers of which accommodated him with a tent in which he slept; and from general hall, who very courteously invited him to dine with him, where he appeared to be very well pleased with his entertainment, and the civilities he received on the part of the general[ ]; the attention likewise, of the general's aid-de-camp, captain smith, seemed to be very welcome to him, as appeared by their engaging in a great deal of discourse together. the gentlemen of the east york regiment likewise on being informed of his coming, solicited his company at dinner, but by that time he had fixed his departure, so that he could not comply with the invitation.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have received two letters from you, of which the second complains of the neglect shewn to the first. you must not tye your friends to such punctual correspondence. you have all possible assurances of my affection and esteem; and there ought to be no need of reiterated professions. when it may happen that i can give you either counsel or comfort, i hope it will never happen to me that i should neglect you; but you must not think me criminal or cold if i say nothing when i have nothing to say. 'you are now happy enough. mrs. boswell is recovered; and i congratulate you upon the probability of her long life. if general approbation will add anything to your enjoyment, i can tell you that i have heard you mentioned as _a man whom everybody likes_[ ]. i think life has little more to give. '----[ ] has gone to his regiment. he has laid down his coach, and talks of making more contractions of his expence: how he will succeed i know not. it is difficult to reform a household gradually; it may be better done by a system totally new. i am afraid he has always something to hide. when we pressed him to go to ----[ ], he objected the necessity of attending his navigation[ ]; yet he could talk of going to aberdeen, a place not much nearer his navigation. i believe he cannot bear the thought of living at ----[ ] in a state of diminution; and of appearing among the gentlemen of the neighbourhood _shorn of his beams_.[ ] this is natural, but it is cowardly. what i told him of the encreasing expence of a growing family seems to have struck him. he certainly had gone on with very confused views, and we have, i think, shewn him that he is wrong; though, with the common deficiency of advisers, we have not shewn him how to do right.[ ] 'i wish you would a little correct or restrain your imagination, and imagine that happiness, such as life admits, may be had at other places as well as london. without asserting stoicism, it may be said, that it is our business to exempt ourselves as much as we can from the power of external things. there is but one solid basis of happiness; and that is, the reasonable hope of a happy futurity.[ ] this may be had every where. 'i do not blame your preference of london to other places, for it is really to be preferred, if the choice is free; but few have the choice of their place, or their manner of life; and mere pleasure ought not to be the prime motive of action. 'mrs. thrale, poor thing, has a daughter.[ ] mr. thrale dislikes the times,[ ] like the rest of us. mrs. williams is sick; mrs. desmoulins is poor. i have miserable nights. nobody is well but mr. levett. 'i am, dear sir, your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, july , .' in the course of this year there was a difference between him and his friend mr. strahan;[ ] the particulars of which it is unnecessary to relate. their reconciliation was communicated to me in a letter from mr. strahan, in the following words:-- 'the notes i shewed you that passed between him and me were dated in march last. the matter lay dormant till july ,[ ] when he wrote to me as follows: "to william strahan, esq. "sir, "it would be very foolish for us to continue strangers any longer. you can never by persistency make wrong right. if i resented too acrimoniously, i resented only to yourself. nobody ever saw or heard what i wrote. you saw that my anger was over, for in a day or two i came to your house. i have given you longer time; and i hope you have made so good use of it, as to be no longer on evil terms with, sir, "your, &c. "sam. johnson." 'on this i called upon him; and he has since dined with me.' after this time, the same friendship as formerly continued between dr. johnson and mr. strahan. my friend mentioned to me a little circumstance of his attention, which, though we may smile at it, must be allowed to have its foundation in a nice and true knowledge of human life. 'when i write to scotland, (said he,) i employ strahan to frank my letters, that he may have the consequence of appearing a parliament-man among his countrymen.' 'to captain langton[ ], warley-camp. 'dear sir, 'when i recollect how long ago i was received with so much kindness at warley common, i am ashamed that i have not made some enquiries after my friends. 'pray how many sheep-stealers did you convict? and how did you punish them? when are you to be cantoned in better habitations? the air grows cold, and the ground damp. longer stay in the camp cannot be without much danger to the health of the common men, if even the officers can escape. 'you see that dr. percy is now dean of carlisle; about five hundred a year, with a power of presenting himself to some good living. he is provided for. 'the session of the club is to commence with that of the parliament. mr. banks[ ] desires to be admitted; he will be a very honourable accession. 'did the king please you[ ]? the coxheath men, i think, have some reason to complain[ ]: reynolds says your camp is better than theirs. 'i hope you find yourself able to encounter this weather. take care of your own health; and, as you can, of your men. be pleased to make my compliments to all the gentlemen whose notice i have had, and whose kindness i have experienced. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'october , .' i wrote to him on the th of august, the th of september, and the th of november; informing him of my having had another son born, whom i had called james[ ]; that i had passed some time at auchinleck; that the countess of loudoun, now in her ninety-ninth year, was as fresh as when he saw her[ ], and remembered him with respect; and that his mother by adoption, the countess of eglintoune[ ], had said to me, 'tell mr. johnson i love him exceedingly;' that i had again suffered much from bad spirits; and that as it was very long since i heard from him, i was not a little uneasy. the continuance of his regard for his friend dr. burney, appears from the following letters:-- 'to the reverend dr. wheeler[ ], oxford. 'dear sir, 'dr. burney, who brings this paper, is engaged in a history of musick; and having been told by dr. markham of some mss. relating to his subject, which are in the library of your college, is desirous to examine them. he is my friend; and therefore i take the liberty of intreating your favour and assistance in his enquiry: and can assure you, with great confidence, that if you knew him he would not want any intervenient solicitation to obtain the kindness of one who loves learning and virtue as you love them. 'i have been flattering myself all the summer with the hope of paying my annual visit to my friends; but something has obstructed me: i still hope not to be long without seeing you. i should be glad of a little literary talk; and glad to shew you, by the frequency of my visits, how eagerly i love it, when you talk it. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, november , .' 'to the reverend dr. edwards[ ], oxford. 'sir, 'the bearer, dr. burney, has had some account of a welsh manuscript in the bodleian library, from which he hopes to gain some materials for his history of musick; but being ignorant of the language, is at a loss where to find assistance. i make no doubt but you, sir, can help him through his difficulties, and therefore take the liberty of recommending him to your favour, as i am sure you will find him a man worthy of every civility that can be shewn, and every benefit that can be conferred. 'but we must not let welsh drive us from greek. what comes of xenophon[ ]? if you do not like the trouble of publishing the book, do not let your commentaries be lost; contrive that they may be published somewhere. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, november , . these letters procured dr. burney great kindness and friendly offices from both of these gentleman, not only on that occasion, but in future visits to the university[ ]. the same year dr. johnson not only wrote to dr. joseph warton in favour of dr. burney's youngest son, who was to be placed in the college of winchester, but accompanied him when he went thither[ ]. we surely cannot but admire the benevolent exertions of this great and good man, especially when we consider how grievously he was afflicted with bad health, and how uncomfortable his home was made by the perpetual jarring of those whom he charitably accommodated under his roof. he has sometimes suffered me to talk jocularly of his group of females, and call them his _seraglio_. he thus mentions them, together with honest levett, in one of his letters to mrs. thrale[ ]: 'williams hates every body; levett hates desmoulins, and does not love williams; desmoulins hates them both; poll[ ] loves none of them.' [ ] 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'it is indeed a long time since i wrote, and i think you have some reason to complain; however, you must not let small things disturb you, when you have such a fine addition to your happiness as a new boy, and i hope your lady's health restored by bringing him. it seems very probable that a little care will now restore her, if any remains of her complaints are left. 'you seem, if i understand your letter, to be gaining ground at auchinleck[ ], an incident that would give me great delight. * * * * * 'when any fit of anxiety, or gloominess, or perversion of mind, lays hold upon you, make it a rule not to publish it by complaints, but exert your whole care to hide it; by endeavouring to hide it, you will drive it away. be always busy[ ]. 'the club is to meet with the parliament; we talk of electing banks, the traveller; he will be a reputable member. 'langton has been encamped with his company of militia on warley-common; i spent five days amongst them; he signalized himself as a diligent officer, and has very high respect in the regiment. he presided when i was there at a court-martial; he is now quartered in hertfordshire; his lady and little ones are in scotland. paoli came to the camp and commended the soldiers. 'of myself i have no great matter to say, my health is not restored, my nights are restless and tedious. the best night that i have had these twenty years was at fort-augustus[ ]. 'i hope soon to send you a few lines to read. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'sam. johnson.' 'november , .' about this time the rev. mr. john hussey, who had been some time in trade, and was then a clergyman of the church of england, being about to undertake a journey to aleppo, and other parts of the east, which he accomplished, dr. johnson, (who had long been in habits of intimacy with him,) honoured him with the following letter:-- 'to mr. john hussey. 'dear sir, 'i have sent you the _grammar_, and have left you two books more, by which i hope to be remembered; write my name in them; we may perhaps see each other no more, you part with my good wishes, nor do i despair of seeing you return. let no opportunities of vice corrupt you; let no bad example seduce you; let the blindness of mahometans confirm you in christianity. god bless you. 'i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'december , .' johnson this year expressed great satisfaction at the publication of the first volume of _discourses to the royal academy_[ ], by sir joshua reynolds, whom he always considered as one of his literary school[ ]. much praise indeed is due to those excellent _discourses_, which are so universally admired, and for which the authour received from the empress of russia a gold snuff-box, adorned with her profile in _bas relief_, set in diamonds; and containing what is infinitely more valuable, a slip of paper, on which are written with her imperial majesty's own hand, the following words: '_pour le chevalier reynolds en témoignage du contentement que j'ai ressentie[ ] à la lecture de ses excellens discours sur la peinture_.' in , johnson gave the world a luminous proof that the vigour of his mind in all its faculties, whether memory, judgement, or imagination, was not in the least abated; for this year came out the first four volumes of his _prefaces, biographical and critical, to the most eminent of the english poets_,[*] published by the booksellers of london. the remaining volumes came out in the year [ ]. the poets were selected by the several booksellers who had the honorary copy right, which is still preserved among them by mutual compact, notwithstanding the decision of the house of lords against the perpetuity of literary property[ ]. we have his own authority[ ], that by his recommendation the poems of blackmore[ ], watts[ ], pomfret[ ], and yalden[ ], were added to the collection. of this work i shall speak more particularly hereafter. on the nd of january, i wrote to him on several topicks, and mentioned that as he had been so good as to permit me to have the proof sheets of his _lives of the poets_, i had written to his servant, francis, to take care of them for me. 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'my dear sir, 'garrick's death is a striking event; not that we should be surprised with the death of any man, who has lived sixty-two years; but because there was a _vivacity_ in our late celebrated friend, which drove away the thoughts of _death_ from any association with _him_. i am sure you will be tenderly affected with his departure[ ]; and i would wish to hear from you upon the subject. i was obliged to him in my days of effervescence in london, when poor derrick was my governour[ ]; and since that time i received many civilities from him. do you remember how pleasing it was, when i received a letter from him at inverary[ ], upon our first return to civilized living after our hebridean journey? i shall always remember him with affection as well as admiration. 'on saturday last, being the th of january[ ], i drank coffee and old port, and had solemn conversation with the reverend mr. falconer, a nonjuring bishop, a very learned and worthy man. he gave two toasts, which you will believe i drank with cordiality, dr. samuel johnson, and flora macdonald. i sat about four hours with him, and it was really as if i had been living in the last century. the episcopal church of scotland, though faithful to the royal house of stuart, has never accepted of any _congé d'liré_, since the revolution; it is the only true episcopal church in scotland, as it has its own succession of bishops. for as to the episcopal clergy who take the oaths to the present government, they indeed follow the rites of the church of england, but, as bishop falconer observed, "they are not _episcopals_; for they are under no bishop, as a bishop cannot have authority beyond his diocese." this venerable gentleman did me the honour to dine with me yesterday, and he laid his hands upon the heads of my little ones. we had a good deal of curious literary conversation, particularly about mr. thomas ruddiman[ ], with whom he lived in great friendship. 'any fresh instance of the uncertainty of life makes one embrace more closely a valuable friend. my dear and much respected sir, may god preserve you long in this world while i am in it. 'i am ever, 'your much obliged, 'and affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' on the rd of february i wrote to him again, complaining of his silence, as i had heard he was ill, and had written to mr. thrale, for information concerning him; and i announced my intention of soon being again in london. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'why should you take such delight to make a bustle, to write to mr. thrale that i am negligent, and to francis to do what is so very unnecessary. thrale, you may be sure, cared not about it; and i shall spare francis the trouble, by ordering a set both of the _lives_ and _poets_ to dear mrs. boswell[ ], in acknowledgement of her marmalade. persuade her to accept them, and accept them kindly. if i thought she would receive them scornfully, i would send them to miss boswell, who, i hope, has yet none of her mamma's ill-will to me. 'i would send sets of _lives_, four volumes, to some other friends, to lord hailes first. his second volume lies by my bed-side; a book surely of great labour, and to every just thinker of great delight. write me word to whom i shall send besides[ ]; would it please lord auchinleck? mrs. thrale waits in the coach. 'i am, dear sir, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' this letter crossed me on the road to london, where i arrived on monday, march , and next morning at a late hour, found dr. johnson sitting over his tea, attended by mrs. desmoulins, mr. levett, and a clergyman, who had come to submit some poetical pieces to his revision. it is wonderful what a number and variety of writers, some of them even unknown to him, prevailed on his good-nature to look over their works, and suggest corrections and improvements[ ]. my arrival interrupted for a little while the important business of this true representative of bayes[ ]; upon its being resumed, i found that the subject under immediate consideration was a translation, yet in manuscript, of the _carmen seculare_ of horace, which had this year been set to musick, and performed as a publick entertainment in london, for the joint benefit of monsieur philidor and signer baretti[ ]. when johnson had done reading, the authour asked him bluntly, 'if upon the whole it was a good translation?' johnson, whose regard for truth was uncommonly strict, seemed to be puzzled for a moment, what answer to make; as he certainly could not honestly commend the performance: with exquisite address he evaded the question thus, 'sir, i do not say that it may not be made a very good translation[ ].' here nothing whatever in favour of the performance was affirmed, and yet the writer was not shocked. a printed _ode to the warlike genius of britain_, came next in review; the bard [ ] was a lank bony figure, with short black hair; he was writhing himself in agitation, while johnson read, and shewing his teeth in a grin of earnestness, exclaimed in broken sentences, and in a keen sharp tone, 'is that poetry, sir?--is it _pindar_?' johnson. 'why, sir, there is here a great deal of what is called poetry.' then, turning to me, the poet cried, 'my muse has not been long upon the town, and (pointing to the _ode_) it trembles under the hand of the great critick[ ].' johnson, in a tone of displeasure, asked him, 'why do you praise anson [ ]?' i did not trouble him by asking his reason for this question. he proceeded, 'here is an errour, sir; you have made genius feminine.' [ ] 'palpable, sir; (cried the enthusiast) i know it. but (in a lower tone) it was to pay a compliment to the duchess of devonshire, with which her grace was pleased. she is walking across coxheath, in the military uniform, and i suppose her to be the genius of britain[ ].' johnson. 'sir, you are giving a reason for it; but that will not make it right. you may have a reason why two and two should make five; but they will still make but four.' although i was several times with him in the course of the following days, such it seems were my occupations, or such my negligence, that i have preserved no memorial of his conversation till friday, march , when i visited him. he said he expected to be attacked on account of his _lives of the poets_. 'however (said he) i would rather be attacked than unnoticed. for the worst thing you can do to an authour is to be silent as to his works.[ ]. an assault upon a town is a bad thing; but starving it is still worse; an assault may be unsuccessful; you may have more men killed than you kill; but if you starve the town, you are sure of victory.' talking of a friend of ours associating with persons of very discordant principles and characters; i said he was a very universal man, quite a man of the world[ ]. johnson. 'yes, sir; but one may be so much a man of the world as to be nothing in the world. i remember a passage in goldsmith's _vicar of wakefield_, which he was afterwards fool enough to expunge: "i do not love a man who is zealous for nothing."' boswell. 'that was a fine passage.' johnson. 'yes, sir: there was another fine passage too, which he struck out: "when i was a young man, being anxious to distinguish myself, i was perpetually starting new propositions. but i soon gave this over; for, i found that generally what was new was false[ ]."' i said i did not like to sit with people of whom i had not a good opinion. johnson. 'but you must not indulge your delicacy too much; or you will be a _tête-à-tête_ man all your life.' during my stay in london this spring, i find i was unaccountably[ ] negligent in preserving johnson's sayings, more so than at any time when i was happy enough to have an opportunity of hearing his wisdom and wit. there is no help for it now. i must content myself with presenting such scraps as i have. but i am nevertheless ashamed and vexed to think how much has been lost. it is not that there was a bad crop this year; but that i was not sufficiently careful in gathering it in. i, therefore, in some instances can only exhibit a few detached fragments. talking of the wonderful concealment of the authour of the celebrated letters signed _junius_[ ]; he said, 'i should have believed burke to be junius, because i know no man but burke who is capable of writing these letters[ ]; but burke spontaneously denied it to me. the case would have been different had i asked him if he was the authour; a man so questioned, as to an anonymous publication, may think he has a right to deny it.'[ ]. he observed that his old friend, mr. sheridan, had been honoured with extraordinary attention in his own country, by having had an exception made in his favour in an irish act of parliament concerning insolvent debtors[ ]. 'thus to be singled out (said he) by a legislature, as an object of publick consideration and kindness, is a proof of no common merit.' at streatham, on monday, march , at breakfast he maintained that a father had no right to control the inclinations of his daughters in marriage[ ]. on wednesday, march , when i visited him, and confessed an excess of which i had very seldom been guilty; that i had spent a whole night in playing at cards, and that i could not look back on it with satisfaction; instead of a harsh animadversion, he mildly said, 'alas, sir, on how few things can we look back with satisfaction.' on thursday, april , he commended one of the dukes of devonshire for 'a dogged veracity[ ].' he said too, 'london is nothing to some people; but to a man whose pleasure is intellectual, london is the place. and there is no place where oeconomy can be so well practised as in london. more can be had here for the money, even by ladies, than any where else. you cannot play tricks with your fortune in a small place; you must make an uniform appearance. here a lady may have well-furnished apartments, and elegant dress, without any meat in her kitchen.' i was amused by considering with how much ease and coolness he could write or talk to a friend, exhorting him not to suppose that happiness was not to be found as well in other places as in london[ ]; when he himself was at all times sensible of its being, comparatively speaking, a heaven upon earth[ ]. the truth is, that by those who from sagacity, attention, and experience, have learnt the full advantage of london, its preeminence over every other place, not only for variety of enjoyment, but for comfort, will be felt with a philosophical exultation[ ]. the freedom from remark and petty censure, with which life may be passed there, is a circumstance which a man who knows the teazing restraint of a narrow circle must relish highly. mr. burke, whose orderly and amiable domestic habits might make the eye of observation less irksome to him than to most men, said once very pleasantly, in my hearing, 'though i have the honour to represent bristol, i should not like to live there; i should be obliged to be so much _upon my good behaviour_.' in london, a man may live in splendid society at one time, and in frugal retirement at another, without animadversion. there, and there alone, a man's own house is truly his _castle_, in which he can be in perfect safety from intrusion whenever he pleases. i never shall forget how well this was expressed to me one day by mr. meynell[ ]: 'the chief advantage of london (said he) is, that a man is always _so near his burrow_[ ].' he said of one of his old acquaintances, 'he is very fit for a travelling governour. he knows french very well. he is a man of good principles; and there would be no danger that a young gentleman should catch his manner; for it is so very bad, that it must be avoided. in that respect he would be like the drunken helot[ ].' a gentleman has informed me, that johnson said of the same person, 'sir, he has the most _inverted_ understanding of any man whom i have ever known.' on friday, april , being good-friday, i visited him in the morning as usual; and finding that we insensibly fell into a train of ridicule upon the foibles of one of our friends, a very worthy man[ ], i, by way of a check, quoted some good admonition from _the government of the tongue_[ ], that very pious book. it happened also remarkably enough, that the subject of the sermon preached to us to-day by dr. burrows, the rector of st. clement danes, was the certainty that at the last day we must give an account of 'the deeds done in the body[ ];' and, amongst various acts of culpability he mentioned evil-speaking. as we were moving slowly along in the crowd from church, johnson jogged my elbow, and said, 'did you attend to the sermon?' 'yes, sir, (said i,) it was very applicable to _us_.' he, however, stood upon the defensive. 'why, sir, the sense of ridicule is given us, and may be lawfully used[ ]. the authour of _the government of the tongue_ would have us treat all men alike.' in the interval between morning and evening service, he endeavoured to employ himself earnestly in devotional exercises; and as he has mentioned in his _prayers and meditations_[ ], gave me '_les pensées de paschal_', that i might not interrupt him. i preserve the book with reverence. his presenting it to me is marked upon it with his own hand, and i have found in it a truly divine unction. we went to church again in the afternoon[ ]. on saturday, april , i visited him at night, and found him sitting in mrs. williams's room, with her, and one who he afterwards told me was a natural son[ ] of the second lord southwell. the table had a singular appearance, being covered with a heterogeneous assemblage of oysters and porter for his company, and tea for himself. i mentioned my having heard an eminent physician, who was himself a christian, argue in favour of universal toleration, and maintain, that no man could be hurt by another man's differing from him in opinion. johnson. 'sir, you are to a certain degree hurt by knowing that even one man does not believe[ ].' on easter-day, after solemn service at st. paul's, i dined with him: mr. allen the printer was also his guest. he was uncommonly silent; and i have not written down any thing, except a single curious fact, which, having the sanction of his inflexible veracity, may be received as a striking instance of human insensibility and inconsideration. as he was passing by a fishmonger who was skinning an eel alive, he heard him 'curse it, because it would not lye still[ ].' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's. i have not marked what company was there. johnson harangued upon the qualities of different liquors; and spoke with great contempt of claret, as so weak, that 'a man would be drowned by it before it made him drunk[ ].' he was persuaded to drink one glass of it, that he might judge, not from recollection, which might be dim, but from immediate sensation. he shook his head, and said, 'poor stuff! no, sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling) must drink brandy. in the first place, the flavour of brandy is most grateful to the palate; and then brandy will do soonest for a man what drinking _can_ do for him[ ]. there are, indeed, few who are able to drink brandy. that is a power rather to be wished for than attained. and yet, (proceeded he) as in all pleasure hope is a considerable part, i know not but fruition comes too quick by brandy. florence wine i think the worst; it is wine only to the eye; it is wine neither while you are drinking it, nor after you have drunk it; it neither pleases the taste, nor exhilarates the spirits.' i reminded him how heartily he and i used to drink wine together, when we were first acquainted; and how i used to have a head-ache after sitting up with him[ ]. he did not like to have this recalled, or, perhaps, thinking that i boasted improperly, resolved to have a witty stroke at me: 'nay, sir, it was not the _wine_ that made your head ache, but the _sense_ that i put into it.' boswell. 'what, sir! will sense make the head ache?' johnson. 'yes, sir, (with a smile) when it is not used to it.'--no man who has a true relish of pleasantry could be offended at this; especially if johnson in a long intimacy had given him repeated proofs of his regard and good estimation. i used to say, that as he had given me a thousand pounds in praise, he had a good right now and then to take a guinea from me. on thursday, april , i dined with him at mr. allan ramsay's, with lord graham[ ] and some other company. we talked of shakspeare's witches. johnson. 'they are beings of his own creation; they are a compound of malignity and meanness, without any abilities; and are quite different from the italian magician. king james says in his _daemonology_, 'magicians command the devils: witches are their servants. the italian magicians are elegant beings.' ramsay. 'opera witches, not drury-lane witches.' johnson observed, that abilities might be employed in a narrow sphere, as in getting money, which he said he believed no man could do, without vigorous parts, though concentrated to a point[ ]. ramsay. 'yes, like a strong horse in a mill; he pulls better.' lord graham, while he praised the beauty of lochlomond, on the banks of which is his family seat, complained of the climate, and said he could not bear it. johnson. 'nay, my lord, don't talk so: you may bear it well enough. your ancestors have borne it more years than i can tell.' this was a handsome compliment to the antiquity of the house of montrose. his lordship told me afterwards, that he had only affected to complain of the climate; lest, if he had spoken as favourably of his country as he really thought, dr. johnson might have attacked it. johnson was very courteous to lady margaret macdonald. 'madam, (said he,) when i was in the isle of sky, i heard of the people running to take the stones off the road, lest lady margaret's horse should stumble[ ].' lord graham commended dr. drummond[ ] at naples, as a man of extraordinary talents; and added, that he had a great love of liberty. johnson. 'he is _young_, my lord; (looking to his lordship with an arch smile) all _boys_ love liberty, till experience convinces them they are not so fit to govern themselves as they imagined. we are all agreed as to our own liberty; we would have as much of it as we can get; but we are not agreed as to the liberty of others: for in proportion as we take, others must lose. i believe we hardly wish that the mob should have liberty to govern us. when that was the case some time ago, no man was at liberty not to have candles in his windows.' ramsay. 'the result is, that order is better than confusion.' johnson. 'the result is, that order cannot be had but by subordination.' on friday, april , i had been present at the trial of the unfortunate mr. hackman, who, in a fit of frantick jealous love, had shot miss ray, the favourite of a nobleman.[ ] johnson, in whose company i dined to-day with some other friends, was much interested by my account of what passed, and particularly with his prayer for the mercy of heaven.[ ] he said, in a solemn fervid tone, 'i hope he _shall_ find mercy.' this day[ ] a violent altercation arose between johnson and beauclerk,[ ] which having made much noise at the time, i think it proper, in order to prevent any future misrepresentation, to give a minute account of it. in talking of hackman, johnson argued, as judge blackstone had done, that his being furnished with two pistols was a proof that he meant to shoot two persons. mr. beauclerk said, 'no; for that every wise man who intended to shoot himself, took two pistols, that he might be sure of doing it at once. lord ----'s cook shot himself with one pistol, and lived ten days in great agony. mr. ----, who loved buttered muffins, but durst not eat them because they disagreed with his stomach, resolved to shoot himself; and then he eat three buttered muffins for breakfast, before shooting himself, knowing that he should not be troubled with indigestion:[ ] _he_ had two charged pistols; one was found lying charged upon the table by him, after he had shot himself with the other.' 'well, (said johnson, with an air of triumph,) you see here one pistol was sufficient.' beauclerk replied smartly, 'because it happened to kill him.' and either then or a very little afterwards, being piqued at johnson's triumphant remark, added, 'this is what you don't know, and i do.' there was then a cessation of the dispute; and some minutes intervened, during which, dinner and the glass went on cheerfully; when johnson suddenly and abruptly exclaimed, 'mr. beauclerk, how came you to talk so petulantly to me, as "this is what you don't know, but what i know"? one thing _i_ know, which _you_ don't seem to know, that you are very uncivil.' beauclerk. 'because you began by being uncivil, (which you always are.)' the words in parenthesis were, i believe, not heard by dr. johnson. here again there was a cessation of arms. johnson told me, that the reason why he waited at first some time without taking any notice of what mr. beauclerk said, was because he was thinking whether he should resent it. but when he considered that there were present a young lord and an eminent traveller, two men of the world with whom he had never dined before, he was apprehensive that they might think they had a right to take such liberties with him as beauclerk did, and therefore resolved he would not let it pass; adding, that 'he would not appear a coward.' a little while after this, the conversation turned on the violence of hackman's temper. johnson then said, 'it was his business to _command_ his temper, as my friend, mr. beauclerk, should have done some time ago.' beauclerk. 'i should learn of _you_, sir.' johnson. 'sir, you have given _me_ opportunities enough of learning, when i have been in _your_ company. no man loves to be treated with contempt.' beauclerk. (with a polite inclination towards johnson) 'sir, you have known me twenty years, and however i may have treated others, you may be sure i could never treat you with contempt' johnson. 'sir, you have said more than was necessary.' thus it ended; and beauclerk's coach not having come for him till very late, dr. johnson and another gentleman sat with him a long time after the rest of the company were gone; and he and i dined at beauclerk's on the saturday se'nnight following. after this tempest had subsided, i recollect the following particulars of his conversation:-- 'i am always for getting a boy forward in his learning; for that is a sure good. i would let him at first read _any_ english book which happens to engage his attention; because you have done a great deal when you have brought him to have entertainment from a book. he'll get better books afterwards[ ].' 'mallet, i believe, never wrote a single line of his projected life of the duke of marlborough.[ ] he groped for materials; and thought of it, till he had exhausted his mind. thus it sometimes happens that men entangle themselves in their own schemes.' 'to be contradicted, in order to force you to talk, is mighty unpleasing. you _shine_, indeed; but it is by being _ground_.' of a gentleman who made some figure among the _literati_ of his time, (mr. fitzherbert,)[ ] he said, 'what eminence he had was by a felicity of manner; he had no more learning than what he could not help.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at mr. beauclerk's, with sir joshua reynolds, mr. jones, (afterwards sir william,) mr. langton, mr. steevens, mr. paradise, and dr. higgins. i mentioned that mr. wilkes had attacked garrick to me, as a man who had no friend. 'i believe he is right, sir. [greek: _oi philoi, ou philos_]--he had friends, but no friend.[ ] garrick was so diffused, he had no man to whom he wished to unbosom himself. he found people always ready to applaud him, and that always for the same thing: so he saw life with great uniformity.' i took upon me, for once, to fight with goliath's weapons, and play the sophist.--'garrick did not need a friend, as he got from every body all he wanted. what is a friend? one who supports you and comforts you, while others do not. friendship, you know, sir, is the cordial drop, "to make the nauseous draught of life go down[ ]:" but if the draught be not nauseous, if it be all sweet, there is no occasion for that drop.' johnson. 'many men would not be content to live so. i hope i should not. they would wish to have an intimate friend, with whom they might compare minds, and cherish private virtues.' one of the company mentioned lord chesterfield, as a man who had no friend. johnson. 'there were more materials to make friendship in garrick, had he not been so diffused.' boswell. 'garrick was pure gold, but beat out to thin leaf. lord chesterfield was tinsel.' johnson. 'garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his age;[ ] a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely, money acquired by himself. he began the world with a great hunger for money; the son of a half-pay officer, bred in a family, whose study was to make four-pence do as much as others made four-pence halfpenny do. but, when he had got money, he was very liberal.'[ ] i presumed to animadvert on his eulogy on garrick, in his _lives of the poets_.[ ] 'you say, sir, his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' [ ] johnson. 'i could not have said more nor less. it is the truth; _eclipsed_, not _extinguished_; and his death _did_ eclipse; it was like a storm.' boswell. 'but why nations? did his gaiety extend farther than his own nation?' johnson. 'why, sir, some exaggeration must be allowed.[ ] besides, nations may be said--if we allow the scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety,--which they have not. _you_ are an exception, though. come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one scotchman who is cheerful.' beauclerk. 'but he is a very unnatural scotchman.' i, however, continued to think the compliment to garrick hyperbolically untrue. his acting had ceased some time before his death; at any rate he had acted in ireland but a short time, at an early period of his life[ ], and never in scotland. i objected also to what appears an anticlimax of praise, when contrasted with the preceding panegyrick,--'and diminished[ ] the public stock of harmless pleasure!'--'is not harmless pleasure very tame?' johnson. 'nay, sir, harmless pleasure is the highest praise. pleasure is a word of dubious import; pleasure is in general dangerous, and pernicious to virtue; to be able therefore to furnish pleasure that is harmless, pleasure pure and unalloyed, is as great a power as man can possess.' this was, perhaps, as ingenious a defence as could be made; still, however, i was not satisfied. a celebrated wit[ ] being mentioned, he said, 'one may say of him as was said of a french wit, _il n'a de l'esprit que contre dieu_. i have been several times in company with him, but never perceived any strong power of wit. he produces a general effect by various means; he has a cheerful countenance and a gay voice. besides his trade is wit. it would be as wild in him to come into company without merriment, as for a highwayman to take the road without his pistols.' talking of the effects of drinking, he said, 'drinking may be practised with great prudence; a man who exposes himself when he is intoxicated, has not the art of getting drunk; a sober man who happens occasionally to get drunk, readily enough goes into a new company, which a man who has been drinking should never do. such a man will undertake any thing; he is without skill in inebriation. i used to slink home, when i had drunk too much[ ]. a man accustomed to self-examination will be conscious when he is drunk, though an habitual drunkard will not be conscious of it. i knew a physician who for twenty years was not sober; yet in a pamphlet, which he wrote upon fevers, he appealed to garrick and me for his vindication from a charge of drunkenness[ ]. a bookseller (naming him) who got a large fortune by trade[ ], was so habitually and equably drunk, that his most intimate friends never perceived that he was more sober at one time than another.' talking of celebrated and successful irregular practisers in physick; he said, 'taylor[ ] was the most ignorant man i ever knew; but sprightly. ward[ ] the dullest. taylor challenged me once to talk latin with him; (laughing). i quoted some of horace, which he took to be a part of my own speech. he said a few words well enough.' beauclerk. 'i remember, sir, you said that taylor was an instance how far impudence could carry ignorance.' mr. beauclerk was very entertaining this day, and told us a number of short stories in a lively elegant manner, and with that air of _the world_ which has i know not what impressive effect, as if there were something more than is expressed, or than perhaps we could perfectly understand[ ]. as johnson and i accompanied sir joshua reynolds in his coach, johnson said, 'there is in beauclerk a predominance over his company, that one does not like. but he is a man who has lived so much in the world, that he has a short story on every occasion; he is always ready to talk, and is never exhausted.' johnson and i passed the evening at miss reynolds's, sir joshua's sister. i mentioned that an eminent friend of ours[ ], talking of the common remark, that affection descends, said, that 'this was wisely contrived for the preservation of mankind; for which it was not so necessary that there should be affection from children to parents, as from parents to children; nay, there would be no harm in that view though children should at a certain age eat their parents.' johnson. 'but, sir, if this were known generally to be the case, parents would not have affection for children.' boswell. 'true, sir; for it is in expectation of a return that parents are so attentive to their children; and i know a very pretty instance of a little girl of whom her father was very fond, who once when he was in a melancholy fit, and had gone to bed, persuaded him to rise in good humour by saying, "my dear papa, please to get up, and let me help you on with your clothes, that i may learn to do it when you are an old man."' soon after this time a little incident occurred, which i will not suppress, because i am desirous that my work should be, as much as is consistent with the strictest truth, an antidote to the false and injurious notions of his character, which have been given by others, and therefore i infuse every drop of genuine sweetness into my biographical cup. 'to dr. johnson. 'my dear sir, 'i am in great pain with an inflamed foot, and obliged to keep my bed, so am prevented from having the pleasure to dine at mr. ramsay's to-day, which is very hard; and my spirits are sadly sunk. will you be so friendly as to come and sit an hour with me in the evening. 'i am ever 'your most faithful, 'and affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'south audley-street[ ], monday, april .' 'to mr. boswell. 'mr. johnson laments the absence of mr. boswell, and will come to him.' 'harley-street[ ]. he came to me in the evening, and brought sir joshua reynolds. i need scarcely say, that their conversation, while they sat by my bedside, was the most pleasing opiate to pain that could have been administered[ ]. johnson being now better disposed to obtain information concerning pope than he was last year[ ], sent by me to my lord marchmont a present of those volumes of his _lives of the poets_ which were at this time published, with a request to have permission to wait on him; and his lordship, who had called on him twice, obligingly appointed saturday, the first of may, for receiving us. on that morning johnson came to me from streatham, and after drinking chocolate, at general paoli's, in south-audley-street, we proceeded to lord marchmont's in curzon-street. his lordship met us at the door of his library, and with great politeness said to johnson, 'i am not going to make an encomium upon _myself_, by telling you the high respect i have for _you_, sir.' johnson was exceedingly courteous; and the interview, which lasted about two hours, during which the earl communicated his anecdotes of pope, was as agreeable as i could have wished[ ]. when we came out, i said to johnson, that considering his lordship's civility, i should have been vexed if he had again failed to come. 'sir, (said he,) i would rather have given twenty pounds than not have come.' i accompanied him to streatham, where we dined, and returned to town in the evening. on monday, may , i dined with him at mr. dilly's[ ]; i pressed him this day for his opinion on the passage in parnell, concerning which i had in vain questioned him in several letters, and at length obtained it in _due form of law_. case for dr. johnson's opinion; rd of may, . 'parnell, in his _hermit_, has the following passage: "to clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, to find if _books_ and[ ] _swains_ report it right: (for yet by _swains alone_ the world he knew, whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew.)" 'is there not a contradiction in its being _first_ supposed that the _hermit_ knew _both_ what books and swains reported of the world; yet _afterwards_ said, that he knew it by swains _alone_?' 'i think it an inaccuracy.--he mentions two instructors in the first line, and says he had only one in the next.[ ].' this evening i set out for scotland. 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam, 'mr. green has informed me that you are much better; i hope i need not tell you that i am glad of it. i cannot boast of being much better; my old nocturnal complaint still pursues me, and my respiration is difficult, though much easier than when i left you the summer before last. mr. and mrs. thrale are well; miss has been a little indisposed; but she is got well again. they have since the loss of their boy had two daughters; but they seem likely to want a son. 'i hope you had some books which i sent you. i was sorry for poor mrs. adey's death, and am afraid you will be sometimes solitary; but endeavour, whether alone or in company, to keep yourself cheerful. my friends likewise die very fast; but such is the state of man. 'i am, dear love, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' he had, before i left london, resumed the conversation concerning the appearance of a ghost at newcastle upon tyne, which mr. john wesley believed, but to which johnson did not give credit[ ]. i was, however, desirous to examine the question closely, and at the same time wished to be made acquainted with mr. john wesley; for though i differed from him in some points, i admired his various talents, and loved his pious zeal. at my request, therefore, dr. johnson gave me a letter of introduction to him. 'to the reverend mr. john wesley. sir, mr. boswell, a gentleman who has been long known to me, is desirous of being known to you, and has asked this recommendation, which i give him with great willingness, because i think it very much to be wished that worthy and religious men should be acquainted with each other. i am, sir, your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' may , .' mr. wesley being in the course of his ministry at edinburgh, i presented this letter to him, and was very politely received. i begged to have it returned to me, which was accordingly done. his state[ ] of the evidence as to the ghost did not satisfy me. i did not write to johnson, as usual, upon my return to my family, but tried how he would be affected by my silence. mr. dilly sent me a copy of a note which he received from him on the th of july, in these words:-- 'to mr. dilly. sir, since mr. boswell's departure i have never heard from him; please to send word what you know of him, and whether you have sent my books to his lady. i am, &c., 'sam. johnson.' my readers will not doubt that his solicitude about me was very flattering. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'what can possibly have happened, that keeps us two such strangers to each other? i expected to have heard from you when you came home; i expected afterwards. i went into the country and returned[ ]; and yet there is no letter from mr. boswell. no ill i hope has happened; and if ill should happen, why should it be concealed from him who loves you? is it a fit of humour, that has disposed you to try who can hold out longest without writing? if it be, you have the victory. but i am afraid of something bad; set me free from my suspicions. 'my thoughts are at present employed in guessing the reason of your silence: you must not expect that i should tell you any thing, if i had any thing to tell. write, pray write to me, and let me know what is, or what has been the cause of this long interruption. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, july , . 'my dear sir, 'what may be justly denominated a supine indolence of mind has been my state of existence since i last returned to scotland. in a livelier state i had often suffered severely from long intervals of silence on your part; and i had even been chided by you for expressing my uneasiness. i was willing to take advantage of my insensibility, and while i could bear the experiment, to try whether your affection for me would, after an unusual silence on my part, make you write first. this afternoon i have had very high satisfaction by receiving your kind letter of inquiry, for which i most gratefully thank you. i am doubtful if it was right to make the experiment; though i have gained by it. i was beginning to grow tender, and to upbraid myself, especially after having dreamt two nights ago that i was with you. i and my wife, and my four children, are all well. i would not delay one post to answer your letter; but as it is late, i have not time to do more. you shall soon hear from me, upon many and various particulars; and i shall never again put you to any test[ ]. i am, with veneration, my dear sir, 'your much obliged, 'and faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' on the nd of july, i wrote to him again; and gave him an account of my last interview with my worthy friend, mr. edward dilly, at his brother's house at southill, in bedfordshire, where he died soon after i parted from him[ ], leaving me a very kind remembrance of his regard. i informed him that lord hailes, who had promised to furnish him with some anecdotes for his _lives of the poets_, had sent me three instances of prior's borrowing from _gombauld_, in _recueil des poetes_, tome . epigram _to john i owed 'great obligation_,' p. . _to the duke of noailles_, p. . _sauntering jack and idle joan_, p. . my letter was a pretty long one, and contained a variety of particulars; but he, it should seem, had not attended to it; for his next to me was as follows:-- 'to james boswell, esq. 'my dear sir, 'are you playing the same trick again, and trying who can keep silence longest? remember that all tricks are either knavish or childish; and that it is as foolish to make experiments upon the constancy of a friend, as upon the chastity of a wife. 'what can be the cause of this second fit of silence, i cannot conjecture; but after one trick, i will not be cheated by another, nor will harass my thoughts with conjectures about the motives of a man who, probably, acts only by caprice. i therefore suppose you are well, and that mrs. boswell is well too; and that the fine summer has restored lord auchinleck. i am much better than you left me; i think i am better than when i was in scotland[ ]. 'i forgot whether i informed you that poor thrale has been in great danger[ ]. mrs. thrale likewise has miscarried, and been much indisposed. every body else is well; langton is in camp. i intend to put lord hailes's description of dryden[ ] into another edition, and as i know his accuracy, wish he would consider the dates, which i could not always settle to my own mind. 'mr. thrale goes to brighthelmston, about michaelmas, to be jolly and ride a hunting. i shall go to town, or perhaps to oxford. exercise and gaiety, or rather carelessness, will, i hope, dissipate all remains of his malady; and i likewise hope by the change of place, to find some opportunities of growing yet better myself. i am, dear sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'streatham, sept. [ ], .' my readers will not be displeased at being told every slight circumstance of the manner in which dr. johnson contrived to amuse his solitary hours. he sometimes employed himself in chymistry, sometimes in watering and pruning a vine[ ], sometimes in small experiments, at which those who may smile, should recollect that there are moments which admit of being soothed only by trifles[ ]. on the th of september i defended myself against his suspicion of me, which i did not deserve; and added, 'pray let us write frequently. a whim strikes me, that we should send off a sheet once a week, like a stage-coach, whether it be full or not; nay, though it should be empty. the very sight of your handwriting would comfort me; and were a sheet to be thus sent regularly, we should much oftener convey something, were it only a few kind words.' my friend colonel james stuart[ ], second son of the earl of bute, who had distinguished himself as a good officer of the bedfordshire militia[ ], had taken a publick-spirited resolution to serve his country in its difficulties, by raising a regular regiment, and taking the command of it himself. this, in the heir of the immense property of wortley, was highly honourable[ ]. having been in scotland recruiting, he obligingly asked me to accompany him to leeds, then the head-quarters of his corps; from thence to london for a short time, and afterwards to other places to which the regiment might be ordered. such an offer, at a time of the year when i had full leisure, was very pleasing; especially as i was to accompany a man of sterling good sense, information, discernment, and conviviality; and was to have a second crop in one year of london and johnson. of this i informed my illustrious friend, in characteristical warm terms, in a letter dated the th of september, from leeds. on monday, october , i called at his house before he was up. he sent for me to his bedside, and expressed his satisfaction at this incidental meeting, with as much vivacity as if he had been in the gaiety of youth. he called briskly, 'frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfast _in splendour_.' during this visit to london i had several interviews with him, which it is unnecessary to distinguish particularly. i consulted him as to the appointment of guardians to my children, in case of my death. 'sir, (said he,) do not appoint a number of guardians. when there are many, they trust one to another, and the business is neglected. i would advise you to choose only one; let him be a man of respectable character, who, for his own credit, will do what is right; let him be a rich man, so that he may be under no temptation to take advantage; and let him be a man of business, who is used to conduct affairs with ability and expertness, to whom, therefore, the execution of the trust will not be burdensome[ ].' on sunday, october , we dined together at mr. strahan's. the conversation having turned on the prevailing practice of going to the east-indies in quest of wealth;--johnson. 'a man had better have ten thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in england, than twenty thousand pounds at the end of ten years passed in india, because you must compute what you _give_ for money; and a man who has lived ten years in india, has given up ten years of social comfort and all those advantages which arise from living in england. the ingenious mr. brown, distinguished by the name of capability brown[ ], told me, that he was once at the seat of lord clive, who had returned from india with great wealth; and that he shewed him at the door of his bed-chamber a large chest, which he said he had once had full of gold; upon which brown observed, "i am glad you can bear it so near your bed-chamber.'" [ ] we talked of the state of the poor in london.--johnson. 'saunders welch[ ], the justice, who was once high-constable of holborn, and had the best opportunities of knowing the state of the poor, told me, that i under-rated the number, when i computed that twenty a week, that is, above a thousand a year, died of hunger; not absolutely of immediate hunger; but of the wasting and other diseases which are the consequences of hunger[ ]. this happens only in so large a place as london, where people are not known. what we are told about the great sums got by begging is not true: the trade is overstocked. and, you may depend upon it, there are many who cannot get work. a particular kind of manufacture fails: those who have been used to work at it, can, for some time, work at nothing else. you meet a man begging; you charge him with idleness: he says, "i am willing to labour. will you give me work?"--"i cannot."--"why, then you have no right to charge me with idleness."' [ ] we left mr. strahan's at seven, as johnson had said he intended to go to evening prayers. as we walked along, he complained of a little gout in his toe, and said, 'i shan't go to prayers to-night; i shall go to-morrow: whenever i miss church on a sunday, i resolve to go another day. but i do not always do it[ ].' this was a fair exhibition of that vibration between pious resolutions and indolence, which many of us have too often experienced. i went home with him, and we had a long quiet conversation. i read him a letter from dr. hugh blair concerning pope, (in writing whose life he was now employed,) which i shall insert as a literary curiosity[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'in the year , being at london, i was carried by dr. john blair, prebendary of westminster, to dine at old lord bathurst's; where we found the late mr. mallet, sir james porter, who had been ambassadour at constantinople, the late dr. macaulay, and two or three more. the conversation turning on mr. pope, lord bathurst told us, that _the essay on man_ was originally composed by lord bolingbroke in prose, and that mr. pope did no more than put it into verse: that he had read lord bolingbroke's manuscript in his own hand-writing; and remembered well, that he was at a loss whether most to admire the elegance of lord bolingbroke's prose, or the beauty of mr. pope's verse. when lord bathurst told this, mr. mallet bade me attend, and remember this remarkable piece of information; as, by the course of nature, i might survive his lordship, and be a witness of his having said so. the conversation was indeed too remarkable to be forgotten. a few days after, meeting with you, who were then also in london, you will remember that i mentioned to you what had passed on this subject, as i was much struck with this anecdote. but what ascertains[ ] my recollection of it beyond doubt, is that being accustomed to keep a journal of what passed when i was in london, which i wrote out every evening, i find the particulars of the above information, just as i have now given them, distinctly marked; and am thence enabled to fix this conversation to have passed on friday, the d of april, . 'i remember also distinctly, (though i have not for this the authority of my journal,) that the conversation going on concerning mr. pope, i took notice of a report which had been sometimes propagated that he did not understand greek[ ]. lord bathurst said to me, that he knew that to be false; for that part of the _iliad_ was translated by mr. pope in his house in the country; and that in the mornings when they assembled at breakfast, mr. pope used frequently to repeat, with great rapture, the greek lines which he had been translating, and then to give them his version of them, and to compare them together. 'if these circumstances can be of any use to dr. johnson, you have my full liberty to give them to him. i beg you will, at the same time, present to him my most respectful compliments, with best wishes for his success and fame in all his literary undertakings. i am, with great respect, my dearest sir, 'your most affectionate, 'and obliged humble servant, 'hugh blair.' 'broughton park, 'sept. , .' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, this is too strongly stated. pope may have had from bolingbroke the philosophick _stamina_ of his essay; and admitting this to be true, lord bathurst did not intentionally falsify. but the thing is not true in the latitude that blair seems to imagine; we are sure that the poetical imagery, which makes a great part of the poem, was pope's own[ ]. it is amazing, sir, what deviations there are from precise truth, in the account which is given of almost every thing[ ]. i told mrs. thrale, "you have so little anxiety about truth, that you never tax your memory with the exact thing[ ]." now what is the use of the memory to truth, if one is careless of exactness? lord hailes's _annals of scotland_ are very exact; but they contain mere dry particulars[ ]. they are to be considered as a dictionary. you know such things are there; and may be looked at when you please. robertson paints; but the misfortune is, you are sure he does not know the people whom he paints; so you cannot suppose a likeness[ ]. characters should never be given by an historian, unless he knew the people whom he describes, or copies from those who knew them[ ].' boswell. 'why, sir, do people play this trick which i observe now, when i look at your grate, putting the shovel against it to make the fire burn?' johnson. 'they play the trick, but it does not make the fire burn. _there_ is a better; (setting the poker perpendicularly up at right angles with the grate.) in days of superstition they thought, as it made a cross with the bars, it would drive away the witch.' boswell. 'by associating with you, sir, i am always getting an accession of wisdom. but perhaps a man, after knowing his own character--the limited strength of his own mind, should not be desirous of having too much wisdom, considering, _quid valeant humeri_[ ], how little he can carry[ ].' johnson. 'sir, be as wise as you can; let a man be _aliis laetus, sapiens sibi_: "though pleas'd to see the dolphins play, i mind my compass and my way[ ]." you may be wise in your study in the morning, and gay in company at a tavern in the evening. every man is to take care of his own wisdom and his own virtue, without minding too much what others think.' he said, 'dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of an english dictionary[ ]; but i had long thought of it.' boswell. 'you did not know what you were undertaking.' johnson. 'yes, sir, i knew very well what i was undertaking,--and very well how to do it,--and have done it very well[ ].' boswell. 'an excellent climax! and it _has_ availed you. in your preface you say, "what would it avail me in this gloom of solitude[ ]?" you have been agreeably mistaken.' in his _life of milton_[ ] he observes, 'i cannot but remark a kind of respect, perhaps unconsciously, paid to this great man by his biographers: every house in which he resided is historically mentioned, as if it were an injury to neglect naming any place that he honoured by his presence.' i had, before i read this observation, been desirous of shewing that respect to johnson, by various inquiries. finding him this evening in a very good humour, i prevailed on him to give me an exact list of his places of residence, since he entered the metropolis as an authour, which i subjoin in a note[ ]. i mentioned to him a dispute between a friend of mine and his lady, concerning conjugal infidelity, which my friend had maintained was by no means so bad in the husband, as in the wife. johnson. 'your friend was in the right, sir. between a man and his maker it is a different question: but between a man and his wife, a husband's infidelity is nothing. they are connected by children, by fortune, by serious considerations of community. wise married women don't trouble themselves about the infidelity in their husbands.' boswell. 'to be sure there is a great difference between the offence of infidelity in a man and that of his wife.' johnson. 'the difference is boundless. the man imposes no bastards upon his wife[ ].' here it may be questioned whether johnson was entirely in the right. i suppose it will not be controverted that the difference in the degree of criminality is very great, on account of consequences: but still it may be maintained, that, independent of moral obligation, infidelity is by no means a light offence in a husband; because it must hurt a delicate attachment, in which a mutual constancy is implied, with such refined sentiments as massinger has exhibited in his play of _the picture_.--johnson probably at another time would have admitted this opinion. and let it be kept in remembrance, that he was very careful not to give any encouragement to irregular conduct. a gentleman[ ], not adverting to the distinction made by him upon this subject, supposed a case of singular perverseness in a wife, and heedlessly said, 'that then he thought a husband might do as he pleased with a safe conscience.' johnson. 'nay, sir, this is wild indeed (smiling) you must consider that fornication is a crime[ ] in a single man; and you cannot have more liberty by being married.' he this evening expressed himself strongly against the roman catholics; observing, 'in every thing in which they differ from us they are wrong.' he was even against the invocation of saints[ ]; in short, he was in the humour of opposition. having regretted to him that i had learnt little greek, as is too generally the case in scotland; that i had for a long time hardly applied at all to the study of that noble language, and that i was desirous of being told by him what method to follow; he recommended to me as easy helps, sylvanus's _first book of the iliad_; dawson's _lexicon to the greek new testament_; and _hesiod_, with _pasoris lexicon_ at the end of it. on tuesday, october , i dined with him at mr. ramsay's, with lord newhaven[ ], and some other company, none of whom i recollect, but a beautiful miss graham[ ], a relation of his lordship's, who asked dr. johnson to hob or nob with her. he was flattered by such pleasing attention, and politely told her, he never drank wine; but if she would drink a glass of water, he was much at her service. she accepted. 'oho, sir! (said lord newhaven) you are caught.' johnson. 'nay, i do not see _how_ i am _caught_; but if i am caught, i don't want to get free again. if i am caught, i hope to be kept.' then when the two glasses of water were brought, smiling placidly to the young lady, he said, 'madam, let us _reciprocate_.' lord newhaven and johnson carried on an argument for some time, concerning the middlesex election[ ]. johnson said, 'parliament may be considered as bound by law as a man is bound where there is nobody to tie the knot. as it is clear that the house of commons may expel, and expel again and again, why not allow of the power to incapacitate for that parliament, rather than have a perpetual contest kept up between parliament and the people.' lord newhaven took the opposite side; but respectfully said, 'i speak with great deference to you, dr. johnson; i speak to be instructed.' this had its full effect on my friend. he bowed his head almost as low as the table, to a complimenting nobleman; and called out, 'my lord, my lord, i do not desire all this ceremony; let us tell our minds to one another quietly.' after the debate was over, he said, 'i have got lights on the subject to-day, which i had not before.' this was a great deal from him, especially as he had written a pamphlet upon it[ ]. he observed, 'the house of commons was originally not a privilege of the people, but a check for the crown on the house of lords. i remember henry the eighth wanted them to do something; they hesitated in the morning, but did it in the afternoon. he told them, "it is well you did; or half your heads should have been upon temple-bar[ ]." but the house of commons is now no longer under the power of the crown, and therefore must be bribed.' he added, 'i have no delight in talking of publick affairs[ ].' of his fellow-collegian,[ ] the celebrated mr. george whitefield, he said, 'whitefield never drew as much attention as a mountebank does; he did not draw attention by doing better than others, but by doing what was strange.[ ] were astley[ ] to preach a sermon standing upon his head on a horse's back, he would collect a multitude to hear him; but no wise man would say he had made a better sermon for that. i never treated whitefield's ministry with contempt; i believe he did good. he had devoted himself to the lower classes of mankind, and among them he was of use.[ ] but when familiarity and noise claim the praise due to knowledge, art, and elegance, we must beat down such pretensions.' what i have preserved of his conversation during the remainder of my stay in london at this time, is only what follows: i told him that when i objected to keeping company with a notorious infidel,[ ] a celebrated friend[ ] of ours said to me, 'i do not think that men who live laxly in the world, as you and i do, can with propriety assume such an authority. dr. johnson may, who is uniformly exemplary in his conduct. but it is not very consistent to shun an infidel to-day, and get drunk to-morrow.' johnson. 'nay, sir, this is sad reasoning. because a man cannot be right in all things, is he to be right in nothing? because a man sometimes gets drunk, is he therefore to steal? this doctrine would very soon bring a man to the gallows.' after all, however, it is a difficult question how far sincere christians should associate with the avowed enemies of religion; for in the first place, almost every man's mind may be more or less 'corrupted by evil communications;'[ ] secondly, the world may very naturally suppose that they are not really in earnest in religion, who can easily bear its opponents; and thirdly, if the profane find themselves quite well received by the pious, one of the checks upon an open declaration of their infidelity, and one of the probable chances of obliging them seriously to reflect, which their being shunned would do, is removed. he, i know not why, shewed upon all occasions an aversion to go to ireland, where i proposed to him that we should make a tour. johnson. 'it is the last place where i should wish to travel.' boswell. 'should you not like to see dublin, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir? dublin is only a worse capital.' boswell. 'is not the giant's-causeway worth seeing?' johnson. 'worth seeing? yes; but not worth going to see.' yet he had a kindness for the irish nation, and thus generously expressed himself to a gentleman from that country, on the subject of an union which artful politicians have often had in view--'do not make an union with us, sir. we should unite with you, only to rob you. we should have robbed the scotch, if they had had any thing of which we could have robbed them[ ].' of an acquaintance of ours, whose manners and every thing about him, though expensive, were coarse, he said, 'sir, you see in him vulgar prosperity.' a foreign minister of no very high talents, who had been in his company for a considerable time quite overlooked, happened luckily to mention that he had read some of his _rambler_ in italian, and admired it much. this pleased him greatly; he observed that the title had been translated, _il genio errante_, though i have been told it was rendered more ludicrously, _il vagabondo_;[ ] and finding that this minister gave such a proof of his taste, he was all attention to him, and on the first remark which he made, however simple, exclaimed, 'the ambassadour says well--his excellency observes--.' and then he expanded and enriched the little that had been said, in so strong a manner, that it appeared something of consequence.[ ] this was exceedingly entertaining to the company who were present, and many a time afterwards it furnished a pleasant topick of merriment: '_the ambassadeur says well_,' became a laughable term of applause, when no mighty matter had been expressed. i left london on monday, october , and accompanied colonel stuart to chester, where his regiment was to lye for some time. 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'chester, october , . 'my dear sir, 'it was not till one o'clock on monday morning, that colonel stuart and i left london; for we chose to bid a cordial adieu to lord mountstuart, who was to set out on that day on his embassy to turin. we drove on excellently, and reached lichfield in good time enough that night. the colonel had heard so preferable a character of the george, that he would not put up at the three crowns, so that i did not see our host wilkins.[ ] we found at the george as good accommodation as we could wish to have, and i fully enjoyed the comfortable thought that _i was in lichfield again_. next morning it rained very hard; and as i had much to do in a little time, i ordered a post-chaise, and between eight and nine sallied forth to make a round of visits. i first went to mr. green, hoping to have had him to accompany me to all my other friends, but he was engaged to attend the bishop of sodor and man, who was then lying at lichfield very ill of the gout. having taken a hasty glance at the additions to green's museum,[ ] from which it was not easy to break away, i next went to the friery,[ ] where i at first occasioned some tumult in the ladies, who were not prepared to receive _company_ so early: but my _name_, which has by wonderful felicity come to be closely associated with yours, soon made all easy; and mrs. cobb and miss adye re-assumed their seats at the breakfast-table, which they had quitted with some precipitation. they received me with the kindness of an old acquaintance; and after we had joined in a cordial chorus to _your_ praise, mrs. cobb gave _me_ the high satisfaction of hearing that you said, "boswell is a man who i believe never left a house without leaving a wish for his return." and she afterwards added, that she bid you tell me, that if ever i came to lichfield, she hoped i would take a bed at the friery. from thence i drove to peter garrick's, where i also found a very flattering welcome. he appeared to me to enjoy his usual chearfulness; and he very kindly asked me to come when i could, and pass a week with him. from mr. garrick's, i went to the palace to wait on mr. seward.[ ] i was first entertained by his lady and daughter, he himself being in bed with a cold, according to his valetudinary custom. but he desired to see me; and i found him drest in his black gown, with a white flannel night-gown above it; so that he looked like a dominican friar. he was good-humoured and polite; and under his roof too my reception was very pleasing. i then proceeded to stow-hill, and first paid my respects to mrs. gastrell,[ ] whose conversation i was not willing to quit. but my sand-glass was now beginning to run low, as i could not trespass too long on the colonel's kindness, who obligingly waited for me; so i hastened to mrs. aston's,[ ] whom i found much better than i feared i should; and there i met a brother-in-law of these ladies, who talked much of you, and very well too, as it appeared to me. it then only remained to visit mrs. lucy porter, which i did, i really believe, with sincere satisfaction on both sides. i am sure i was glad to see her again; and, as i take her to be very honest, i trust she was glad to see me again; for she expressed herself so, that i could not doubt of her being in earnest. what a great key-stone of kindness, my dear sir, were you that morning! for we were all held together by our common attachment to you. i cannot say that i ever passed two hours with more self-complacency than i did those two at lichfield. let me not entertain any suspicion that this is idle vanity. will not you confirm me in my persuasion, that he who finds himself so regarded has just reason to be happy? 'we got to chester about midnight on tuesday; and here again i am in a state of much enjoyment. colonel stuart and his officers treat me with all the civility i could wish; and i play my part admirably. _laetus aliis, sapiens sibi_,[ ] the classical sentence which you, i imagine, invented the other day, is exemplified in my present existence. the bishop[ ], to whom i had the honour to be known several years ago, shews me much attention; and i am edified by his conversation. i must not omit to tell you, that his lordship admires, very highly, your _prefaces to the poets_. i am daily obtaining an extension of agreeable acquaintance, so that i am kept in animated variety; and the study of the place itself, by the assistance of books, and of the bishop, is sufficient occupation. chester pleases my fancy more than any town i ever saw. but i will not enter upon it at all in this letter. 'how long i shall stay here i cannot yet say. i told a very pleasing young lady[ ], niece to one of the prebendaries, at whose house i saw her, "i have come to chester, madam, i cannot tell how; and far less can i tell how i am to get away from it." do not think me too juvenile. i beg it of you, my dear sir, to favour me with a letter while i am here, and add to the happiness of a happy friend, who is ever, with affectionate veneration, 'most sincerely yours, 'james boswell.'[ ] 'if you do not write directly, so as to catch me here, i shall be disappointed. two lines from you will keep my lamp burning bright.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'why should you importune me so earnestly to write? of what importance can it be to hear of distant friends, to a man who finds himself welcome wherever he goes, and makes new friends faster than he can want them? if to the delight of such universal kindness of reception, any thing can be added by knowing that you retain my good-will, you may indulge yourself in the full enjoyment of that small addition. 'i am glad that you made the round of lichfield with so much success: the oftener you are seen, the more you will be liked. it was pleasing to me to read that mrs. aston was so well, and that lucy porter was so glad to see you. 'in the place where you now are, there is much to be observed; and you will easily procure yourself skilful directors. but what will you do to keep away the _black dog_[ ] that worries you at home? if you would, in compliance with your father's advice, enquire into the old tenures and old charters of scotland, you would certainly open to yourself many striking scenes of the manners of the middle ages.[ ] the feudal system, in a country half-barbarous, is naturally productive of great anomalies in civil life. the knowledge of past times is naturally growing less in all cases not of publick record; and the past time of scotland is so unlike the present, that it is already difficult for a scotchman to image the oeconomy of his grandfather. do not be tardy nor negligent; but gather up eagerly what can yet be found.[ ] 'we have, i think, once talked of another project, a _history of the late insurrection in scotland_, with all its incidents.[ ] many falsehoods are passing into uncontradicted history. voltaire, who loved a striking story, has told what he[ ] could not find to be true. [ ] 'you may make collections for either of these projects, or for both, as opportunities occur, and digest your materials at leisure. the great direction which burton has left to men disordered like you, is this, _be not solitary; be not idle_[ ]: which i would thus modify;--if you are idle, be not solitary; if you are solitary, be not idle. 'there is a letter for you, from 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'london, october , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'carlisle, nov. , . 'my dear sir, 'that i should importune you to write to me at chester, is not wonderful, when you consider what an avidity i have for delight; and that the _amor_ of pleasure, like the _amor nummi_[ ], increases in proportion with the quantity which we possess of it. your letter, so full of polite kindness and masterly counsel, came like a large treasure upon me, while already glittering with riches. i was quite enchanted at chester, so that i could with difficulty quit it. but the enchantment was the reverse of that of circé; for so far was there from being any thing sensual in it, that i was _all mind_. i do not mean all reason only; for my fancy was kept finely in play. and why not?--if you please i will send you a copy, or an abridgement of my chester journal, which is truly a log-book of felicity. 'the bishop treated me with a kindness which was very flattering. i told him, that you regretted you had seen so little of chester.[ ] his lordship bade me tell you, that he should be glad to shew you more of it. i am proud to find the friendship with which you honour me is known in so many places. 'i arrived here late last night. our friend the dean[ ] has been gone from hence some months; but i am told at my inn, that he is very _populous_ (popular). however, i found mr. law, the archdeacon, son to the bishop[ ], and with him i have breakfasted and dined very agreeably. i got acquainted with him at the assizes here, about a year and a half ago; he is a man of great variety of knowledge, uncommon genius, and i believe, sincere religion. i received the holy sacrament in the cathedral in the morning, this being the first sunday in the month; and was at prayers there in the evening. it is divinely cheering to me to think that there is a cathedral so near auchinleck; and i now leave old england in such a state of mind as i am thankful to god for granting me. 'the _black dog_ that worries me at home i cannot but dread; yet as i have been for some time past in a military train, i trust i shall _repulse_ him. to hear from you will animate me like the sound of a trumpet, i therefore hope, that soon after my return to the northern field, i shall receive a few lines from you. 'colonel stuart did me the honour to escort me in his carriage to shew me liverpool, and from thence back again to warrington, where we parted[ ]. in justice to my valuable wife, i must inform you she wrote to me, that as i was so happy, she would not be so selfish as to wish me to return sooner than business absolutely required my presence. she made my clerk write to me a post or two after to the same purpose, by commission from her; and this day a kind letter from her met me at the post-office here, acquainting me that she and the little ones were well, and expressing all their wishes for my return home. i am, more and more, my dear sir, 'your affectionate 'and obliged humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'your last letter was not only kind but fond. but i wish you to get rid of all intellectual excesses, and neither to exalt your pleasures, nor aggravate your vexations, beyond their real and natural state[ ]. 'why should you not be as happy at edinburgh as at chester? _in culpa est animus, qui se non effugit usquam_[ ]. please yourself with your wife and children, and studies, and practice. 'i have sent a petition[ ] from lucy porter, with which i leave it to your discretion whether it is proper to comply. return me her letter, which i have sent, that you may know the whole case, and not be seduced to any thing that you may afterwards repent. miss doxy perhaps you know to be mr. garrick's niece. 'if dean percy can be popular at carlisle, he may be very happy. he has in his disposal two livings, each equal, or almost equal in value to the deanery; he may take one himself, and give the other to his son. 'how near is the cathedral to auchinleck, that you are so much delighted with it? it is, i suppose, at least an hundred and fifty miles off[ ]. however, if you are pleased, it is so far well. 'let me know what reception you have from your father, and the state of his health. please him as much as you can, and add no pain to his last years. 'of our friends here i can recollect nothing to tell you. i have neither seen nor heard of langton. beauclerk is just returned from brighthelmston, i am told, much better. mr. thrale and his family are still there; and his health is said to be visibly improved; he has not bathed, but hunted[ ]. 'at bolt-court there is much malignity, but of late little open hostility[ ]. i have had a cold, but it is gone. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, &c. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'london, nov. , .' 'sam. johnson.' on november , and december , i wrote to him from edinburgh, giving a very favourable report of the family of miss doxy's lover;--that after a good deal of enquiry i had discovered the sister of mr. francis stewart[ ], one of his amanuenses when writing his _dictionary_;--that i had, as desired by him, paid her a guinea for an old pocket-book of her brother's which he had retained; and that the good woman, who was in very moderate circumstances, but contented and placid, wondered at his scrupulous and liberal honesty, and received the guinea as if sent her by providence[ ].--that i had repeatedly begged of him to keep his promise to send me his letter to lord chesterfield, and that this _memento_, like _delenda est carthago_, must be in every letter that i should write to him, till i had obtained my object[ ]. : aetat. .--in , the world was kept in impatience for the completion of his _lives of the poets_, upon which he was employed so far as his indolence allowed him to labour[ ]. i wrote to him on january , and march , sending him my notes of lord marchmont's information concerning pope;--complaining that i had not heard from him for almost four months, though he was two letters in my debt;--that i had suffered again from melancholy;--hoping that he had been in so much better company, (the poets,) that he had not time to think of his distant friends; for if that were the case, i should have some recompence for my uneasiness;--that the state of my affairs did not admit of my coming to london this year; and begging he would return me goldsmith's two poems, with his lines marked[ ]. his friend dr. lawrence having now suffered the greatest affliction to which a man is liable, and which johnson himself had felt in the most severe manner; johnson wrote to him in an admirable strain of sympathy and pious consolation. 'to dr. lawrence. 'dear sir, 'at a time when all your friends ought to shew their kindness, and with a character which ought to make all that know you your friends, you may wonder that you have yet heard nothing from me. 'i have been hindered by a vexatious and incessant cough, for which within these ten days i have been bled once, fasted four or five times, taken physick five times, and opiates, i think, six. this day it seems to remit. 'the loss, dear sir, which you have lately suffered, i felt many years ago, and know therefore how much has been taken from you, and how little help can be had from consolation. he that outlives a wife whom he has long loved, sees himself disjoined from the only mind that has the same hopes, and fears, and interest; from the only companion with whom he has shared much good or evil; and with whom he could set his mind at liberty, to retrace the past or anticipate the future. the continuity of being is lacerated[ ]; the settled course of sentiment and action is stopped; and life stands suspended and motionless, till it is driven by external causes into a new channel. but the time of suspense is dreadful. 'our first recourse in this distressed solitude, is, perhaps for want of habitual piety, to a gloomy acquiescence in necessity. of two mortal beings, one must lose the other; but surely there is a higher and better comfort to be drawn from the consideration of that providence which watches over all, and a belief that the living and the dead are equally in the hands of god, who will reunite those whom he has separated; or who sees that it is best not to reunite. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'january , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'well, i had resolved to send you the chesterfield letter; but i will write once again without it. never impose tasks upon mortals. to require two things is the way to have them both undone. 'for the difficulties which you mention in your affairs i am sorry; but difficulty is now very general: it is not therefore less grievous, for there is less hope of help. i pretend not to give you advice, not knowing the state of your affairs; and general counsels about prudence and frugality would do you little good. you are, however, in the right not to increase your own perplexity by a journey hither; and i hope that by staying at home you will please your father. 'poor dear beauclerk[ ]--_nec, ut soles, dabis joca_[ ]. his wit and his folly, his acuteness and maliciousness, his merriment and reasoning, are now over. such another will not often be found among mankind. he directed himself to be buried by the side of his mother, an instance of tenderness which i hardly expected[ ]. he has left his children to the care of lady di, and if she dies, of mr. langton, and of mr. leicester his relation, and a man of good character. his library has been offered to sale to the russian ambassador[ ]. 'dr. percy, notwithstanding all the noise of the newspapers, has had no literary loss[ ]. clothes and moveables were burnt to the value of about one hundred pounds; but his papers, and i think his books, were all preserved. 'poor mr. thrale has been in extreme danger from an apoplectical disorder, and recovered, beyond the expectation of his physicians; he is now at bath, that his mind may be quiet, and mrs. thrale and miss are with him. 'having told you what has happened to your friends, let me say something to you of yourself. you are always complaining of melancholy, and i conclude from those complaints that you are fond of it. no man talks of that which he is desirous to conceal, and every man desires to conceal that of which he is ashamed.[ ] do not pretend to deny it; _manifestum habemus furem_; make it an invariable and obligatory law to yourself, never to mention your own mental diseases; if you are never to speak of them, you will think on them but little, and if you think little of them, they will molest you rarely. when you talk of them, it is plain that you want either praise or pity; for praise there is no room, and pity will do you no good; therefore, from this hour speak no more, think no more, about them[ ]. 'your transaction with mrs. stewart gave me great satisfaction; i am much obliged to you for your attention. do not lose sight of her; your countenance may be of great credit, and of consequence of great advantage to her. the memory of her brother is yet fresh in my mind; he was an ingenious and worthy man. 'please to make my compliments to your lady, and to the young ladies. i should like to see them, pretty loves. 'i am, dear sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' mrs. thrale being now at bath with her husband, the correspondence between johnson and her was carried on briskly. i shall present my readers with one of her original letters to him at this time, which will amuse them probably more than those well-written but studied epistles which she has inserted in her collection, because it exhibits the easy vivacity of their literary intercourse. it is also of value as a key to johnson's answer, which she has printed by itself, and of which i shall subjoin extracts. 'mrs. thrale to dr. johnson. 'i had a very kind letter from you yesterday, dear sir, with a most circumstantial date[ ]. you took trouble with my circulating letter, [ ] mr. evans writes me word, and i thank you sincerely for so doing: one might do mischief else not being on the spot. 'yesterday's evening was passed at mrs. montagu's: there was mr. melmoth;[ ] i do not like him _though_, nor he me; it was expected we should have pleased each other; he is, however, just tory enough to hate the bishop of peterborough[ ] for whiggism, and whig enough to abhor you for toryism. 'mrs. montagu flattered him finely; so he had a good afternoon on't. this evening we spend at a concert. poor queeney's[ ] sore eyes have just released her; she had a long confinement, and could neither read nor write, so my master[ ] treated her very good-naturedly with the visits of a young woman in this town, a taylor's daughter, who professes musick, and teaches so as to give six lessons a day to ladies, at five and threepence a lesson. miss burney says she is a great performer; and i respect the wench for getting her living so prettily; she is very modest and pretty-mannered, and not seventeen years old. 'you live in a fine whirl indeed; if i did not write regularly you would half forget me, and that would be very wrong, for i _felt_ my regard for you in my _face_ last night, when the criticisms were going on. 'this morning it was all connoisseurship; we went to see some pictures painted by a gentleman-artist, mr. taylor, of this place; my master makes one, every where, and has got a good dawling[ ] companion to ride with him now. he looks well enough, but i have no notion of health for a man whose mouth cannot be sewed up.[ ] burney[ ] and i and queeney teize him every meal he eats, and mrs. montagu is quite serious with him; but what _can_ one do? he will eat, i think, and if he does eat i know he will not live; it makes me very unhappy, but i must bear it. let me always have your friendship. i am, most sincerely, dear sir, 'your faithful servant, 'h. l. t.' 'bath, friday, april .' 'dr. johnson to mrs. thrale. 'dearest madam, 'mr. thrale never will live abstinently, till he can persuade himself to live by rule[ ]. * * * * * encourage, as you can, the musical girl. 'nothing is more common than mutual dislike, where mutual approbation is particularly expected. there is often on both sides a vigilance not over-benevolent; and as attention is strongly excited, so that nothing drops unheeded, any difference in taste or opinion, and some difference where there is no restraint will commonly appear, immediately generates dislike. 'never let criticisms operate upon your face or your mind; it is very rarely that an authour is hurt by his criticks. the blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket[ ]; a very few names may be considered as perpetual lamps that shine unconsumed. from the authour of _fitzosborne's letters_ i cannot think myself in much danger. i met him only once about thirty years ago, and in some small dispute reduced him to whistle; having not seen him since, that is the last impression. poor moore, the fabulist[ ], was one of the company. 'mrs. montagu's long stay, against her own inclination, is very convenient. you would, by your own confession, want a companion; and she is _par pluribus_; conversing with her you may _find variety in one_[ ].' 'london, may , .' on the and of may i wrote to him, and requested that we might have another meeting somewhere in the north of england, in the autumn of this year. from mr. langton i received soon after this time a letter, of which i extract a passage, relative both to mr. beauclerk and dr. johnson. 'the melancholy information you have received concerning mr. beauclerk's death is true. had his talents been directed in any sufficient degree as they ought, i have always been strongly of opinion that they were calculated to make an illustrious figure; and that opinion, as it had been in part formed upon dr. johnson's judgment, receives more and more confirmation by hearing what, since his death, dr. johnson has said concerning them; a few evenings ago, he was at mr. vesey's[ ], where lord althorpe[ ], who was one of a numerous company there, addressed dr. johnson on the subject of mr. beauclerk's death, saying, "our club has had a great loss since we met last." he replied, "a loss, that perhaps the whole nation could not repair!" the doctor then went on to speak of his endowments, and particularly extolled the wonderful ease with which he uttered what was highly excellent. he said, that "no man ever was so free when he was going to say a good thing, from a _look_ that expressed that it was coming; or, when he had said it, from a look that expressed that it had come." at mr. thrale's, some days before when we were talking on the same subject, he said, referring to the same idea of his wonderful facility, "that beauclerk's talents were those which he had felt himself more disposed to envy, than those of any whom he had known[ ]." 'on the evening i have spoken of above, at mr. vesey's, you would have been much gratified, as it exhibited an instance of the high importance in which dr. johnson's character is held, i think even beyond any i ever before was witness to. the company consisted chiefly of ladies, among whom were the duchess dowager of portland[ ], the duchess of beaufort, whom i suppose from her rank i must name before her mother mrs. boscawen, and her elder sister mrs. lewson, who was likewise there; lady lucan[ ], lady clermont, and others of note both for their station and understandings. among the gentlemen were lord althorpe, whom i have before named, lord macartney, sir joshua reynolds, lord lucan, mr. wraxal[ ], whose book you have probably seen, _the tour to the northern parts of europe_; a very agreeable ingenious man; dr. warren, mr. pepys, the master in chancery, whom i believe you know, and dr. barnard, the provost of eton[ ]. as soon as dr. johnson was come in and had taken a chair[ ], the company began to collect round him, till they became not less than four, if not five, deep; those behind standing, and listening over the heads of those that were sitting near him[ ]. the conversation for some time was chiefly between dr. johnson and the provost of eton, while the others contributed occasionally their remarks. without attempting to detail the particulars of the conversation, which perhaps if i did, i should spin my account out to a tedious length, i thought, my dear sir, this general account of the respect with which our valued friend was attended to, might be acceptable[ ].' 'to the reverend dr. farmer. 'may , . sir, 'i know your disposition to second any literary attempt, and therefore venture upon the liberty of entreating you to procure from college or university registers, all the dates, or other informations which they can supply, relating to ambrose philips, broome, and gray, who were all of cambridge, and of whose lives i am to give such accounts as i can gather. be pleased to forgive this trouble from, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' while johnson was thus engaged in preparing a delightful literary entertainment for the world, the tranquillity of the metropolis of great-britain was unexpectedly disturbed, by the most horrid series of outrage that ever disgraced a civilised country. a relaxation of some of the severe penal provisions against our fellow-subjects of the catholic communion had been granted by the legislature, with an opposition so inconsiderable that the genuine mildness of christianity, united with liberal policy, seemed to have become general in this island[ ]. but a dark and malignant spirit of persecution soon shewed itself, in an unworthy petition for the repeal of the wise and humane statute. that petition was brought forward by a mob, with the evident purpose of intimidation, and was justly rejected. but the attempt was accompanied and followed by such daring violence as is unexampled in history. of this extraordinary tumult, dr. johnson has given the following concise, lively, and just account in his _letters to mrs. thrale[ ]:-- 'on friday[ ], the good protestants met in saint george's-fields, at the summons of lord george gordon, and marching to westminster, insulted the lords and commons, who all bore it with great tameness. at night the outrages began by the demolition of the mass-house by lincoln's-inn.' 'an exact journal of a week's defiance of government i cannot give you. on monday, mr. strahan[ ], who had been insulted, spoke to lord mansfield, who had i think been insulted too, of the licentiousness of the populace; and his lordship treated it as a very slight irregularity. on tuesday night[ ] they pulled down fielding's house, and burnt his goods in the street. they had gutted on monday sir george savile's house, but the building was saved. on tuesday evening, leaving fielding's ruins, they went to newgate to demand their companions who had been seized demolishing the chapel. the keeper could not release them but by the mayor's permission, which he went to ask; at his return he found all the prisoners released, and newgate in a blaze. they then went to bloomsbury, and fastened upon lord mansfield's house, which they pulled down; and as for his goods, they totally burnt them[ ]. they have since gone to caen-wood, but a guard was there before them. they plundered some papists, i think, and burnt a mass-house[ ] in moorfields the same night.' 'on wednesday i walked with dr. scott to look at newgate, and found it in ruins, with the fire yet glowing. as i went by, the protestants were plundering the sessions-house at the old-bailey. there were not, i believe, a hundred; but they did their work at leisure, in full security, without sentinels, without trepidation, as men lawfully employed, in full day. such is the cowardice of a commercial place. on wednesday they broke open the fleet, and the king's-bench, and the marshalsea, and wood-street compter, and clerkenwell bridewell, and released all the prisoners[ ].' 'at night they set fire to the fleet, and to the king's-bench, and i know not how many other places; and one might see the glare of conflagration fill the sky from many parts. the sight was dreadful. some people were threatened: mr. strahan advised me to take care of myself. such a time of terrour you have been happy in not seeing.' 'the king said in council, "that the magistrates had not done their duty, but that he would do his own;" and a proclamation was published, directing us to keep our servants within doors, as the peace was now to be preserved by force. the soldiers were sent out to different parts, and the town is now [_june_ ] at quiet.' 'the soldiers[ ] are stationed so as to be every where within call: there is no longer any body of rioters, and the individuals are hunted to their holes, and led to prison; lord george was last night sent to the tower. mr. john wilkes was this day[ ] in my neighbourhood, to seize the publisher of a seditious paper.' 'several chapels have been destroyed, and several inoffensive papists have been plundered; but the high sport was to burn the gaols. this was a good rabble trick. the debtors and the criminals were all set at liberty; but of the criminals, as has always happened, many are already retaken; and two pirates have surrendered themselves, and it is expected that they will be pardoned.' 'government now acts again with its proper force; and we are all[ ] under the protection of the king and the law. i thought that it would be agreeable to you and my master to have my testimony to the publick security; and that you would sleep more quietly when i told you that you are safe.' 'there has, indeed, been an universal panick from which the king was the first that recovered. without the concurrence of his ministers, or the assistance of the civil magistrate, he put the soldiers in motion, and saved the town from calamities, such as a rabble's government must naturally produce.' 'the publick[ ] has escaped a very heavy calamity. the rioters attempted the bank on wednesday night, but in no great number; and like other thieves, with no great resolution. jack wilkes headed the party that drove them away. it is agreed, that if they had seized the bank on tuesday, at the height of the panick, when no resistance had been prepared, they might have carried irrecoverably away whatever they had found. jack, who was always zealous for order and decency,[ ] declares that if he be trusted with power, he will not leave a rioter alive. there is, however, now no longer any need of heroism or bloodshed; no blue ribband[ ] is any longer worn[ ].' such was the end of this miserable sedition, from which london was delivered by the magnanimity of the sovereign himself. whatever some may maintain, i am satisfied that there was no combination or plan, either domestic or foreign; but that the mischief spread by a gradual contagion of frenzy, augmented by the quantities of fermented liquors, of which the deluded populace possessed themselves in the course of their depredations. i should think myself very much to blame, did i here neglect to do justice to my esteemed friend mr. akerman, the keeper of newgate, who long discharged a very important trust with an uniform intrepid firmness, and at the same time a tenderness and a liberal charity, which entitle him to be recorded with distinguished honour[ ]. upon this occasion, from the timidity and negligence of magistracy on the one hand, and the almost incredible exertions of the mob on the other, the first prison of this great country was laid open, and the prisoners set free; but that mr. akerman, whose house was burnt, would have prevented all this, had proper aid been sent to him in due time, there can be no doubt. many years ago, a fire broke out in the brick part which was built as an addition to the old gaol of newgate. the prisoners were in consternation and tumult, calling out, 'we shall be burnt--we shall be burnt! down with the gate--down with the gate!' mr. akerman hastened to them, shewed himself at the gate, and having, after some confused vociferation of 'hear him--hear him!' obtained a silent attention, he then calmly told them, that the gate must not go down; that they were under his care, and that they should not be permitted to escape: but that he could assure them, they need not be afraid of being burnt, for that the fire was not in the prison, properly so called, which was strongly built with stone; and that if they would engage to be quiet, he himself would come in to them, and conduct them to the further end of the building, and would not go out till they gave him leave. to this proposal they agreed; upon which mr. akerman, having first made them fall back from the gate, went in, and with a determined resolution, ordered the outer turnkey upon no account to open the gate, even though the prisoners (though he trusted they would not) should break their word, and by force bring himself to order it. 'never mind me, (said he,) should that happen.' the prisoners peaceably followed him, while he conducted them through passages of which he had the keys, to the extremity of the gaol which was most distant from the fire. having, by this very judicious conduct, fully satisfied them that there was no immediate risk, if any at all, he then addressed them thus: 'gentlemen, you are now convinced that i told you true. i have no doubt that the engines will soon extinguish this fire; if they should not, a sufficient guard will come, and you shall all be taken out and lodged in the compters[ ]. i assure you, upon my word and honour, that i have not a farthing insured. i have left my house, that i might take care of you. i will keep my promise, and stay with you if you insist upon it; but if you will allow me to go out and look after my family and property, i shall[ ] be obliged to you.' struck with his behaviour, they called out, 'master akerman, you have done bravely; it was very kind in you: by all means go and take care of your own concerns.' he did so accordingly, while they remained, and were all preserved. johnson has been heard to relate the substance of this story with high praise, in which he was joined by mr. burke. my illustrious friend, speaking of mr. akerman's kindness to his prisoners, pronounced this eulogy upon his character:--'he who has long had constantly in his view the worst of mankind, and is yet eminent for the humanity of his disposition, must have had it originally in a great degree, and continued to cultivate it very carefully[ ].' in the course of this month my brother david waited upon dr. johnson, with the following letter of introduction, which i had taken care should be lying ready on his arrival in london. 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, april , . 'my dear sir, 'this will be delivered to you by my brother david, on his return from spain. you will be glad to see the man who vowed to "stand by the old castle of auchinleck, with heart, purse, and sword;" that romantick family solemnity devised by me, of which you and i talked with complacency upon the spot. i trust that twelve years of absence have not lessened his feudal attachment; and that you will find him worthy of being introduced to your acquaintance. 'i have the honour to be, 'with affectionate veneration, 'my dear sir, 'your most faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' johnson received him very politely, and has thus mentioned him in a letter to mrs. thrale[ ]: 'i have had with me a brother of boswell's, a spanish merchant,[ ] whom the war has driven from his residence at valentia; he is gone to see his friends, and will find scotland but a sorry place after twelve years' residence in a happier climate. he is a very agreeable man, and speaks no scotch.' 'to dr. beattie, at aberdeen. 'sir, 'more years[ ] than i have any delight to reckon, have past since you and i saw one another; of this, however, there is no reason for making any reprehensory complaint--_sic fata ferunt[ ]_. but methinks there might pass some small interchange of regard between us. if you say, that i ought to have written, i now write; and i write to tell you, that i have much kindness for you and mrs. beattie; and that i wish your health better, and your life long. try change of air, and come a few degrees southwards: a softer climate may do you both good; winter is coming on; and london will be warmer, and gayer, and busier, and more fertile of amusement than aberdeen. 'my health is better; but that will be little in the balance, when i tell you that mrs. montagu has been very ill, and is i doubt now but weakly. mr. thrale has been very dangerously disordered; but is much better, and i hope will totally recover. he has withdrawn himself from business the whole summer. sir joshua and his sister are well; and mr. davies has got great success as an authour,[ ] generated by the corruption of a bookseller.[ ] more news i have not to tell you, and therefore you must be contented with hearing, what i know not whether you much wish to hear[ ], that i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, fleet-street, august , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i find you have taken one of your fits of taciturnity, and have resolved not to write till you are written to; it is but a peevish humour, but you shall have your way. 'i have sat at home in bolt-court, all the summer, thinking to write the _lives_, and a great part of the time only thinking. several of them, however, are done, and i still think to do the rest. 'mr. thrale and his family have, since his illness, passed their time first at bath, and then at brighthelmston; but i have been at neither place. i would have gone to lichfield, if i could have had time, and i might have had time if i had been active; but i have missed much, and done little. 'in the late disturbances, mr. thrale's house and stock were in great danger; the mob was pacified at their first invasion, with about fifty pounds in drink and meat; and at their second, were driven away by the soldiers[ ]. mr. strahan got a garrison into his house, and maintained them a fortnight; he was so frighted that he removed part of his goods. mrs. williams took shelter in the country. 'i know not whether i shall get a ramble this autumn[ ]; it is now about the time when we were travelling. i have, however, better health than i had then, and hope you and i may yet shew ourselves on some part of europe, asia, or africa[ ]. in the mean time let us play no trick, but keep each other's kindness by all means in our power. 'the bearer of this is dr. dunbar, of aberdeen, who has written and published a very ingenious book[ ], and who i think has a kindness for me, and will, when he knows you, have a kindness for you. 'i suppose your little ladies are grown tall; and your son is become a learned young man. i love them all, and i love your naughty lady, whom i never shall persuade to love me. when the _lives_ are done, i shall send them to complete her collection, but must send them in paper, as for want of a pattern, i cannot bind them to fit the rest. 'i am, sir, 'yours most affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, aug. , .' this year he wrote to a young clergyman[ ] in the country, the following very excellent letter, which contains valuable advice to divines in general:-- 'dear sir, 'not many days ago dr. lawrence shewed me a letter, in which you make mention of me: i hope, therefore, you will not be displeased that i endeavour to preserve your good-will by some observations which your letter suggested to me. 'you are afraid of falling into some improprieties in the daily service by reading to an audience that requires no exactness. your fear, i hope, secures you from danger. they who contract absurd habits are such as have no fear. it is impossible to do the same thing very often, without some peculiarity of manner: but that manner may be good or bad, and a little care will at least preserve it from being bad: to make it good, there must, i think, be something of natural or casual felicity, which cannot be taught. 'your present method of making your sermons seems very judicious. few frequent preachers can be supposed to have sermons more their own than yours will be. take care to register, somewhere or other, the authours from whom your several discourses are borrowed; and do not imagine that you shall always remember, even what perhaps you now think it impossible to forget. 'my advice, however, is, that you attempt, from time to time, an original sermon; and in the labour of composition, do not burthen your mind with too much at once; do not exact from yourself at one effort of excogitation, propriety of thought and elegance of expression. invent first, and then embellish. the production of something, where nothing was before, is an act of greater energy than the expansion or decoration of the thing produced. set down diligently your thoughts as they rise, in the first words that occur; and, when you have matter, you will easily give it form: nor, perhaps, will this method be always necessary; for by habit, your thoughts and diction will flow together[ ]. 'the composition of sermons is not very difficult: the divisions not only help the memory of the hearer, but direct the judgement of the writer; they supply sources of invention, and keep every part in its proper place. 'what i like least in your letter is your account of the manners of your parish; from which i gather, that it has been long neglected by the parson. the dean of carlisle[ ], who was then a little rector in northamptonshire[ ], told me, that it might be discerned whether or no there was a clergyman resident in a parish by the civil or savage manner of the people. such a congregation as yours stands in need of much reformation; and i would not have you think it impossible to reform them. a very savage parish was civilised by a decayed gentlewoman, who came among them to teach a petty school. my learned friend dr. wheeler[ ] of oxford, when he was a young man, had the care of a neighbouring parish for fifteen pounds a year, which he was never paid; but he counted it a convenience that it compelled him to make a sermon weekly. one woman he could not bring to the communion; and, when he reproved or exhorted her, she only answered, that she was no scholar. he was advised to set some good woman or man of the parish, a little wiser than herself, to talk to her in a language level to her mind. such honest, i may call them holy artifices, must be practised by every clergyman; for all means must be tried by which souls may be saved[ ]. talk to your people, however, as much as you can; and you will find, that the more frequently you converse with them upon religious subjects, the more willingly they will attend, and the more submissively they will learn. a clergyman's diligence always makes him venerable. i think i have now only to say, that in the momentous work you have undertaken, i pray god to bless you. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, aug. , .' my next letters to him were dated august , september , and october , and from them i extract the following passages:-- 'my brother david and i find the long indulged fancy of our comfortable meeting again at auchinleck, so well realised, that it in some degree confirms the pleasing hope of _o! preclarum diem!_[ ] in a future state.' 'i beg that you may never again harbour a suspicion of my indulging a peevish humour, or playing tricks; you will recollect that when i confessed to you, that i had once been intentionally silent to try your regard, i gave you my word and honour that i would not do so again[ ].' 'i rejoice to hear of your good state of health; i pray god to continue it long. i have often said, that i would willingly have ten years added to my life, to have ten taken from yours; i mean, that i would be ten years older to have you ten years younger. but let me be thankful for the years during which i have enjoyed your friendship, and please myself with the hopes of enjoying it many years to come in this state of being, trusting always, that in another state, we shall meet never to be separated. of this we can form no notion; but the thought, though indistinct, is delightful, when the mind is calm and clear[ ].' 'the riots in london were certainly horrible; but you give me no account of your own situation, during the barbarous anarchy. a description of it by dr. johnson would be a great painting[ ]; you might write another _london, a poem_.' 'i am charmed with your condescending affectionate expression, "let us keep each other's kindness by all the means in our power;" my revered friend! how elevating is it to my mind, that i am found worthy to be a companion to dr. samuel johnson! all that you have said in grateful praise of mr. walmsley,[ ] i have long thought of you; but we are both tories,[ ] which has a very general influence upon our sentiments. i hope that you will agree to meet me at york, about the end of this month; or if you will come to carlisle, that would be better still, in case the dean be there. please to consider, that to keep each other's kindness, we should every year have that free and intimate communication of mind which can be had only when we are together. we should have both our solemn and our pleasant talk.' 'i write now for the third time, to tell you that my desire for our meeting this autumn, is much increased. i wrote to squire godfrey bosville[ ], my yorkshire chief, that i should, perhaps, pay him a visit, as i was to hold a conference with dr. johnson at york. i give you my word and honour that i said not a word of his inviting you; but he wrote to me as follows:-- '"i need not tell you i shall be happy to see you here the latter end of this month, as you propose; and i shall likewise be in hopes that you will persuade dr. johnson to finish the conference here. it will add to the favour of your own company, if you prevail upon such an associate, to assist your observations. i have often been entertained with his writings, and i once belonged to a club of which he was a member, and i never spent an evening there, but i heard something from him well worth remembering." 'we have thus, my dear sir, good comfortable quarters in the neighbourhood of york, where you may be assured we shall be heartily welcome. i pray you then resolve to set out; and let not the year be a blank in our social calendar, and in that record of wisdom and wit, which i keep with so much diligence, to your honour, and the instruction and delight of others.' mr. thrale had now another contest for the representation in parliament of the borough of southwark, and johnson kindly lent him his assistance, by writing advertisements and letters for him. i shall insert one as a specimen: 'to the worthy electors of the borough of southwark. 'gentlemen, 'a new parliament being now called, i again solicit the honour of being elected for one of your representatives; and solicit it with the greater confidence, as i am not conscious of having neglected my duty, or of having acted otherwise than as becomes the independent representative of independent constituents; superiour to fear, hope, and expectation, who has no private purposes to promote, and whose prosperity is involved in the prosperity of his country. as my recovery from a very severe distemper is not yet perfect, i have declined to attend the hall, and hope an omission so necessary will not be harshly censured. 'i can only send my respectful wishes, that all your deliberations may tend to the happiness of the kingdom, and the peace of the borough. 'i am, gentlemen, 'your most faithful 'and obedient servant, 'henry thrale.' 'southwark, sept. , .' on his birth-day, johnson has this note:-- 'i am now beginning the seventy-second year of my life, with more strength of body, and greater vigour of mind, than i think is common at that age[ ].' but still he complains of sleepless nights and idle days, and forgetfulness, or neglect of resolutions. he thus pathetically expresses himself,-- 'surely i shall not spend my whole life with my own total disapprobation[ ].' mr. macbean, whom i have mentioned more than once, as one of johnson's humble friends, a deserving but unfortunate man, being now oppressed by age and poverty, johnson solicited the lord chancellor thurlow, to have him admitted into the charterhouse. i take the liberty to insert his lordship's answer[ ], as i am eager to embrace every occasion of augmenting the respectable notion which should ever be entertained of my illustrious friend:-- 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'london, october , . 'sir, 'i have this moment received your letter, dated the th, and returned from bath. 'in the beginning of the summer i placed one in the chartreux[ ], without the sanction of a recommendation so distinct and so authoritative as yours of macbean; and i am afraid, that according to the establishment of the house, the opportunity of making the charity so good amends will not soon recur. but whenever a vacancy shall happen, if you'll favour me with notice of it, i will try to recommend him to the place, even though it should not be my turn to nominate. 'i am, sir, with great regard, 'your most faithful 'and obedient servant, 'thurlow[ ].' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am sorry to write you a letter that will not please you, and yet it is at last what i resolve to do. this year must pass without an interview; the summer has been foolishly lost, like many other of my summers and winters. i hardly saw a green field, but staid in town to work, without working much. 'mr. thrale's loss of health has lost him the election;[ ] he is now going to brighthelmston, and expects me to go with him; and how long i shall stay, i cannot tell. i do not much like the place, but yet i shall go, and stay while my stay is desired. we must, therefore, content ourselves with knowing what we know as well as man can know the mind of man, that we love one another, and that we wish each other's happiness, and that the lapse of a year cannot lessen our mutual kindness. 'i was pleased to be told that i accused mrs. boswell unjustly, in supposing that she bears me ill-will. i love you so much, that i would be glad to love all that love you, and that you love; and i have love very ready for mrs. boswell, if she thinks it worthy of acceptance. i hope all the young ladies and gentlemen are well. 'i take a great liking to your brother. he tells me that his father received him kindly, but not fondly; however, you seem to have lived well enough at auchinleck, while you staid. make your father as happy as you can. 'you lately told me of your health: i can tell you in return, that my health has been for more than a year past, better than it has been for many years before. perhaps it may please god to give us some time together before we are parted. 'i am, dear sir, 'yours most affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'october , .' appendix a. (_page_ .) the alehouse in the city where johnson used to go and sit with george psalmanazar was, no doubt, the club in old street, where he met also 'the metaphysical tailor,' the uncle of hoole the poet (_post_, under march , ). psalmanazar is mentioned a third time by boswell (_post_, may , ) in a passage borrowed from hawkins's edition of johnson's _works_, xi. , where it is stated that 'johnson said: "he had never seen the close of the life of any one that he wished so much his own to resemble as that of him, for its purity and devotion." he was asked whether he ever contradicted him. "i should as soon," said he, "have thought of contradicting a bishop." when he was asked whether he had ever mentioned formosa before him, he said, "he was afraid to mention even china."' we learn from hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. , that 'psalmanazar lived in ironmonger row, old street; in the neighbourhood whereof he was so well known and esteemed, that, as dr. hawkesworth once told me, scarce any person, even children, passed him without shewing him the usual signs of respect.' in the list of the writers of the _universal history_ that johnson drew up a few days before his death his name is given as the historian of the jews, gauls, and spaniards (_post_, november, ). according to mrs. piozzi (_anecdotes_, p. ):--'his pious and patient endurance of a tedious illness, ending in an exemplary death, confirmed the strong impression his merit had made upon the mind of mr. johnson. "it is so very difficult," said he always, "for a sick man not to be a scoundrel."' johnson, in _prayers and meditations_, p. , mentions him as a man 'whose life was, i think, uniform.' smollett, in _humphry clinker_ (in melford's letter of june ), describes him as one 'who, after having drudged half a century in the literary mill, in all the simplicity and abstinence of an asiatic, subsists upon the charity of a few booksellers, just sufficient to keep him from the parish.' a writer in the _annual register_ for (ii. ), speaking of the latter part of his life, says:--'he was concerned in compiling and writing works of credit, and lived exemplarily for many years.' he died a few days before that memorable sixteenth day of may , when boswell first met johnson. it is a pity that no record has been kept of the club meetings in ironmonger row, for then we should have seen johnson in a new light. johnson in an alehouse club, with a metaphysical tailor on one side of him, and an aged writer on the other side of him, 'who spoke english with the city accent and coarsely enough,'[ ] and whom he would never venture to contradict, is a johnson that we cannot easily imagine. of the greater part of psalmanazar's life we know next to nothing--little, i believe, beyond the few facts that i have here gathered together. his early years he has described in his _memoirs_. that he started as one of the most shameless impostors, and that he remained a hypocrite and a cheat till he was fully forty, if not indeed longer, his own narrative shows. that for many years he lived laboriously, frugally, and honestly seems to be no less certain. how far his _memoirs_ are truthful is somewhat doubtful. in them he certainly confesses the impudent trick which he had played in his youth, when he passed himself off as a formosan convert. he wished, he writes, 'to undeceive the world by unravelling that whole mystery of iniquity' (p. ). he lays bare roguery enough, and in a spirit, it seems, of real sorrow. nevertheless there are passages which are not free from the leaven of hypocrisy, and there are, i suspect, statements which are at least partly false. johnson, indeed, looked upon him as little less than a saint; but then, as sir joshua reynolds tells us, though 'johnson was not easily imposed upon by professions to honesty and candour, he appeared to have little suspicion of hypocrisy in religion.'[ ] it was in the year that psalmanazar published his _historical and geographical description of formosa_. so gross is the forgery that it almost passes belief that it was widely accepted as a true narrative. he gave himself out as a native of that island and a convert to christianity. he lied so foolishly as to maintain that in the academies of formosa greek was studied (p. ). he asserted also that in an island that is only about half as large as ireland , boys were sacrificed every year (p. ). but his readers were for the most part only too willing to be deceived; for in protestant england his abuse of the jesuits covered a multitude of lies. ere he had been three months in london, he was, he writes (_memoirs_, p. ), 'cried up for a prodigy, and not only the domestic, but even the foreign papers had helped to blaze forth many things in his praise.' he was aided in his fraud by the rev. dr. innes, or innys, a clergyman of the english church, who by means of his interesting convert pushed himself into the notice of compton, bishop of london, and before long was made chaplain-general to the english forces in portugal (_memoirs_, p. ). the same man, as boswell tells us (_ante_, i. ), by another impudent cheat, a second time obtained 'considerable promotion.' psalmanazar's book soon reached a second edition, 'besides the several versions it had abroad' (p. ). yet it is very dull reading--just such a piece of work as might be looked for from a young man of little fancy, but gifted with a strong memory. nevertheless, the author's credit lasted so long, that for many years he lived on a subscription 'which was founded on a belief of his being a formosan and a real convert to the church of england' (p. ). he was even sent to oxford to study, and had rooms in one of the colleges--christ church, if i mistake not (p. ). it was not only as a student that he was sent by his dupes to that ancient seat of learning; the bishop of london hoped that he would 'teach the formosan language to a set of gentlemen who were afterwards to go with him to convert those people to christianity' (p. ). while he was living the life of a lying scoundrel, he was, he says (p. ), 'happily restrained by divine grace,' so that 'all sense of remorse was not extinguished,' and there was no fall into 'downright infidelity.' at length he picked up law's _serious call_, which moved him, as later on it moved better men (_ante_, i. ). step by step he got into a way of steady work, and lived henceforth a laborious and honest life. it was in the year , thirty-five years before his death, that he began, he says, to write the narrative of his imposture (p. ). a dangerous illness and the dread of death had deeply moved him, and filled him with the desire of leaving behind 'a faithful narrative' which would 'undeceive the world.' nineteen years later, though he did not publish his narrative, he made a public confession of his guilt. in the unsigned article on formosa, which he wrote in for bowen's _complete system of geography_ (ii. ), he says, 'psalmanaazaar [so he had at one time written his name] hath long since ingenuously owned the contrary [of the truthfulness of his narrative] though not in so public a manner, as he might perhaps have done, had not such an avowment been likely to have affected some few persons who for private ends took advantage of his youthful vanity to encourage him in an imposture, which he might otherwise never had the thought, much less the confidence, to have carried on. these persons being now dead, and out of all danger of being hurt by it, he now gives us leave to assure the world that the greatest part of that account was fabulous ... and that he designs to leave behind him a faithful account of that unhappy step, and other particulars of his life leading to it, to be published after his death.' in his _memoirs_ he will not, he writes (p. ), give any account 'of his real country or family.' yet it is quite clear from his own narrative that he was born in the south of france. 'his pronunciation of french had,' it was said, 'a spice of the gascoin accent, and in that provincial dialect he was so masterly that none but those born in the country could excel him' (preface, p. ). if a town can be found that answers to all that he tells of his birth-place, his whole account may be true; but the circumstances that he mentions seem inconsistent. the city in which he was born was twenty-four miles from an archiepiscopal city in which there was a college of jesuits (p. ), and about sixty miles from 'a noble great city full of gentry and nobility, of coaches, and all kinds of grandeur,' the seat of a great university (pp. , ). when he left the great city for avignon he speaks of himself as 'going _down_ to avignon' (p. ). thence he started on a pilgrimage to rome, and in order to avoid his native place, after he had gone no great way, 'he wheeled about to the left, to leave the place at some twenty or thirty miles distance' (p. ). he changed his mind, however, and returned home. thence he set off to join his father, who was 'near miles off' in germany (p. ). 'the direct route was through the great university city' and lyons (p. ). his birth-place then, if his account is true, was on the road from avignon to rome, sixty miles from a great university city and southwards of it, for through this university city passed the direct road from his home to lyons. it was, moreover, sixty miles from an archiepiscopal city. i do not think that such a place can be found. he says (p. ) that he thought himself 'obliged out of respect to his country and family to conceal both, it being but too common, though unjust, to censure them for the crimes of private persons.' the excuse seems unsatisfactory, for he tells enough to shew that he came from the south of france, while for his family there was no need of care. it was, he writes, 'ancient but decayed,' and he was the only surviving child. of his father and mother he had heard nothing since he started on the career of a pious rogue. they must have been dead very many years by the time his _memoirs_ were given to the world. his story shews that at all events for the first part of his life he had been one of the vainest of men, and vanity is commonly found joined with a love of mystery. he is not consistent, moreover, in his dates. on april , , he was in the rd year of his age (p. ); so that he was born in either or . when he joined his father he was 'hardly full sixteen years old' (p. ); yet it was a few years after the peace of ryswick, which was signed on september , . he was, he says, 'but near twenty' when he wrote his _history of formosa_ (p. ). this was in the year . with his father he stayed but a short time, and then set out rambling northwards. at avignon, by shameless lying, he had obtained a pass 'as a young student in theology, of irish extract [_sic_] who had left his country for the sake of religion' (p. ). it was wonderful that his fraud had escaped detection there, for he had kept his own name, 'because it had something of quality in it' (p. ). he now resolved on a more impudent pretence; for 'passing as an irishman and a sufferer for religion, did not only,' he writes, 'expose me to the danger of being discovered, but came short of the merit and admiration i had expected from it' (p. ). he thereupon gave himself out as a japanese convert, and forged a fresh pass, 'clapping to it the old seal' (p. ). he went through different adventures, and at last enlisted in the army of the elector of cologne--an 'unhappy herd, destitute of all sense of religion and shamefacedness.' he got his discharge, but enlisted a second time, 'passing himself off for a japanese and a heathen, under the name of salmanazar' (pp. - ). later on he altered it, he says, 'by the addition of a letter or two to make it somewhat different from that mentioned in the _book of kings_' (shalmaneser, ii _kings_, xvii. ). in his _description of formosa_ he wrote it psalmanaazaar, and in later life psalmanazar. in his vanity he invented 'an awkward show of worship, turning his face to the rising or setting sun, and pleased to be taken notice of for so doing' (p. ). he had moreover 'the ambition of passing for a moral heathen' (p. ). by way of singularity he next took to living altogether upon raw flesh, roots, and herbs (p. ). it was when he was on garrison duty at sluys that he became acquainted with innes, who was chaplain to a scotch regiment that was in the pay of the dutch (p. ). this man found in him a tool ready made to his hand. he had at once seen through his roguery, but he used his knowledge only to plunge him deeper in his guilt. by working on his fears and his vanity and by small bribes he induced him to profess himself a convert to the church of england and to submit to baptism (p. ). he brought him over to london, and introduced him to the bishop of london, and to tenison, archbishop of canterbury (pp. , ). psalmanazar spoke latin fluently, but 'his grace had either forgotten his, or being unused to the foreign pronunciation was forced to have it interpreted to him by dr. innes in english' (p. ). the young impostor everywhere gave himself out as a formosan who had been entrapped by a jesuit priest, and brought to avignon. 'there i could expect,' he wrote, 'no mercy from the inquisitors, if i had not in hypocrisy professed their religion' (_history of formosa_, p. ). he was kept, he says, in a kind of custody, 'but i trusted under god to my heels' (p. ). it was innes who made him write this _history_. in the confession of his fraud psalmanazar seems to keep back nothing. his repentance appears to be sincere, and his later life, there can be little question, was regular. yet, as i have said, even his confessions apparently are not free from the old leaven of hypocrisy. it is indeed very hard, if not altogether impossible, for a man who has passed forty years and more as a lying hypocrite altogether to 'clear his mind of cant.' in writing of the time when he was still living the life of a lying scoundrel, he says:--'i have great reason to acknowledge it the greatest mercy that could befall me, that i was so well grounded in the principles and evidence of the christian religion, that neither the conversation of the then freethinkers, as they loved to stile themselves, and by many of whom i was severely attacked, nor the writings of hobbes, spinosa, &c. against the truth of divine revelation could appear to me in any other light than as the vain efforts of a dangerous set of men to overturn a religion, the best founded and most judiciously calculated to promote the peace and happiness of mankind, both temporal and eternal' (_memoirs_, p. ). two pages further on he writes, a little boastfully it seems, of having had 'some sort of gallantry with the fair sex; with many of whom, even persons of fortune and character, of sense, wit, and learning, i was become,' he continues, 'a great favourite, and might, if i could have overcome my natural sheepishness and fear of a repulse, have been more successful either by way of matrimony or intrigue.' he goes on:--'i may truly say, that hardly any man who might have enjoyed so great a variety ever indulged himself in so few instances of the unlawful kind as i have done.' he concludes this passage in his writings by 'thankfully acknowledging that there must have been some secret providence that kept me from giving such way to unlawful amours as i might otherwise have done, to the ruin of my health, circumstances,' &c. when he came to wish for an honest way of life he was beset with difficulties. 'what a deadly wound,' he writes, 'must such an unexpected confession have given to my natural vanity, and what a mortification would it have been to such sincere honest people [as my friends] to hear it from my mouth!' (p. .) this was natural enough. that he long hesitated, like a coward, on the brink is not to be cast in his teeth, seeing that at last he took the plunge. but then in speaking of the time when he weakly repeated, and to use his own words, 'as it were confirmed anew,' his old falsehoods, he should not have written that 'as the assurance of god's mercy gave me good grounds to hope, so that hope inspired me with a design to use all proper means to obtain it, and leave the issue of it to his divine providence' (p. ). the only proper means to obtain god's mercy was at once to own to all the world that he had lied. it is only the tartuffes and the holy willies who, whilst they persist in their guilt, talk of leaving the issue to the divine providence of god. since this appendix was in type i have learnt, through the kindness of mr. c.e. doble, the editor of hearne's _remarks and collections_, ed. , that a passage in that book (i. ), confirms my conjecture that psalmanazar was lodged in christ church when at oxford. hearne says (july , ):--'mr. topping of christ church ... also tells me that salmanezzer, the famous formosan, when he left christ church (where he resided while in oxon) left behind him a book in mst., wherein a distinct acct was given of the consular and imperial coyns by himself.' mr. doble has also pointed out to me in the first edition of the _spectator_ the following passage at the end of no. :-- 'advertisement. 'on the first of april will be performed at the play-house in the hay-market an opera call'd _the cruelty of atreus_. n.b. the scene wherein thyestes eats his own children is to be performed by the famous mr. psalmanazar lately arrived from formosa: the whole supper being set to kettle-drums.' * * * * * appendix b. johnson's travels and love of travelling. (_page _). on the passage in the text macaulay in his review of croker's edition of _boswell's life of johnson_ partly founds the following criticism:-- 'johnson's visit to the hebrides introduced him to a state of society completely new to him; and a salutary suspicion of his own deficiencies seems on that occasion to have crossed his mind for the first time. he confessed, in the last paragraph of his _journey_, that his thoughts on national manners were the thoughts of one who had seen but little, of one who had passed his time almost wholly in cities. this feeling, however, soon passed away. it is remarkable that to the last he entertained a fixed contempt for all those modes of life and those studies which tend to emancipate the mind from the prejudices of a particular age or a particular nation. of foreign travel and of history he spoke with the fierce and boisterous contempt of ignorance. "what does a man learn by travelling? is beauclerk the better for travelling? what did lord charlemont learn in his travels, except that there was a snake in one of the pyramids of egypt?"' macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i. . in another passage (p. ) macaulay says:-- 'johnson was no master of the great science of human nature. he had studied, not the genus man, but the species londoner. nobody was ever so thoroughly conversant with all the forms of life and all the shades of moral and intellectual character which were to be seen from islington to the thames, and from hyde-park corner to mile-end green. but his philosophy stopped at the first turnpike-gate. of the rural life of england he knew nothing, and he took it for granted that everybody who lived in the country was either stupid or miserable.' of the two assertions that macaulay makes in these two passages, while one is for the most part true, the other is utterly and grossly false. johnson had no contempt for foreign travel. that curiosity which animated his eager mind in so many parts of learning did not fail him, when his thoughts turned to the great world outside our narrow seas. it was his poverty that confined him so long to the neighbourhood of temple bar. he must in these early days have sometimes felt with arviragus when he says:-- 'what should we speak of when we are old as you? when we shall hear the rain and wind beat dark december, how in this our pinching cave, shall we discourse the freezing hours away? we have seen nothing.' with his pension his wanderings at once began. his friendship with the thrales gave them a still wider range. his curiosity, which in itself was always eager, was checked in his more prosperous circumstances by his years, his natural unwillingness at any one moment to make an effort, and by the want of travelling companions who were animated by a spirit of inquiry and of enterprise equal to his own. he did indeed travel much more than is commonly thought, and was far less frequently to be seen rolling along fleet-street or stemming the full tide of human existence at charing cross than his biographers would have us believe. the following table, imperfect though it must necessarily be, shows how large a part of his life he passed outside 'the first turnpike-gate,' and beyond the smoke of london:-- - . the first twenty-seven years of his life he spent in small country towns or villages--lichfield, stourbridge, oxford, market-bosworth, birmingham. so late as lichfield did not contain , inhabitants (harwood's _history of lichfield_, p. ); eight years later it was reckoned that a little over , people dwelt in oxford (parker's _early history of oxford_, ed. , p. ). in or birmingham, when johnson first went to live there, had not, i suppose, a population of , . its growth was wonderfully rapid. between and its inhabitants increased from , to nearly , (_birmingham directory for_ , p. xx, and _a brief history of birmingham_, p. ). - . the first eighteen months of his married life he lived quite in the country at edial, two miles from lichfield. _ante_, i. . . he was twenty-eight years old when he removed to london. _ante_, i. . . he paid a visit to appleby in leicestershire and to ashbourn. _ante_, i. , note . . oxford. july and august, about five weeks. _ante_, i. , note . . oxford. july, length of visit not mentioned. _ante_, i. . - . lichfield. winter, a visit of five days. _ante_, i. . . in the summer of this year his pension was granted, and he henceforth had the means of travelling. _ante_, i. . a trip to devonshire, from aug. to sept. ; six weeks. _ante_, i. . oxford. december. 'i am going for a few days or weeks to oxford.' letter of dec. , . croker's _boswell_, p. . . harwich. august, a few days. _ante_, i. . oxford. october, length of visit not mentioned. a letter dated oxford, oct. [ ]. croker's _boswell_, p. . . langton in lincolnshire, part of january and february. _ante_, i. . easton maudit in northamptonshire, part of june, july, and august. croker's _boswell_, p. , note, and _ante_, i. . oxford, october. letter to mr. strahan dated oxford, oct. , . _post, addenda_ to vol. v. either this year or the next johnson made the acquaintance of the thrales. for the next seventeen years he had 'an apartment appropriated to him in the thrales' villa at streatham' (_ante_, i. ), a handsome house that stood in a small park. streatham was a quiet country-village, separated by wide commons from london, on one of which a highwayman had been hanged who had there robbed mr. thrale (_ante_, iii. , note ). according to mrs. piozzi johnson commonly spent the middle of the week at their house, coming on the monday night and returning to his own home on the saturday (_post_, iv. , note ). miss burney, in , describes him 'as living almost wholly at streatham' (_ante_, i. , note ). no doubt she was speaking chiefly of the summer half of the year, for in the winter time the thrales would be often in their town house, where he also had his apartment. mr. strahan complained of his being at streatham 'in a great measure absorbed from the society of his old friends' (_ante_, iii. ). he used to call it 'my _home_' (_ante_, i. , note ). . cambridge, early in the year; a short visit. _ante_, i. . brighton, autumn; a short visit. piozzi's _anec_. p. , and _piozzi letters_, i. . . streatham, summer and autumn; more than three months. ante, ii. , and _pr. and med_. p. . oxford, autumn; a month. _ante_, ii. . . lichfield, summer and autumn; 'near six months.' _ante_, ii. , and _piozzi letters_, i. , . . oxford, spring; several weeks. _piozzi letters_, i. - . townmalling in kent, september; apparently a short visit. _pr. and med_. p. . . oxford, from at least may to july . _piozzi letters_, i. - , and _ante_, ii. . lichfield and ashbourn, august; a short visit. _piozzi letters_, i. , and _ante_, ii. . brighton, part of august and september; some weeks. _ante_, ii. , , and croker's _boswell_, p. , letter dated 'brighthelmstone. august , .' . lichfield and ashbourn, apparently whole of july. _piozzi letters_, i. - . . lichfield and ashbourn, from june to after aug. . _ante_, ii. , , and _piozzi letters_, i. - . . lichfield and ashbourn, from about oct. to early in december. _piozzi letters_, i. - . . oxford, april; a hurried visit. _ante_, ii. , note . tour to scotland from aug. to nov. . _ante_, ii. , . oxford, part of november and december. _ante_, ii. . . tour to north wales (derbyshire, chester, conway, anglesey, snowdon, shrewsbury, worcester, birmingham, oxford, beaconsfield) from july to sept. . _ante_, ii. , and _post_, v. . . oxford, march; a short visit. _piozzi letters_, i. . oxford, lichfield, ashbourn, from end of may till some time in august. _ante_, ii. , and _piozzi letters_, i. - . brighton; apparently a brief visit in september. croker's _boswell_, p. . a tour to paris (going by calais and rouen and returning by compiegne, st. quintin, and calais), from sept. to nov. . _ante_, ii. , . . oxford, lichfield, ashbourn, march - . (the trip was cut short by young thrale's death.) _ante_, ii. , and iii. . bath, from the middle of april to the beginning of may. _ante_, iii. , . brighton, part of september and october; full seven weeks. _ante_, iii. . . oxford, lichfield, and ashbourn, from about july to about nov. . _ante_, iii. , , and _piozzi letters_, i. - and ii. - (the letter of oct. , i. , is wrongly dated, as is shown by the mention of foote's death). brighton, november; a visit of three days. _ante_, iii. . . warley camp, in essex, september; about a week. _ante_, iii. . . lichfield, ashbourn, from may to end of june. _ante_, iii. , and _piozzi letters_, ii. - . epsom, september; a few days. _pr. and med_. pp. , . . brighton. october. ms. letter dated oct. , to mr. nichols in the british museum. . oxford, birmingham, lichfield, ashbourn, from oct. to dec. . _post_, iv. , and croker's _boswell_, p. , note . . oxford, june; about ten days. _post_, iv. , and _piozzi letters_, ii. - . brighton, part of october and november. _post_, iv. . . rochester, july; about a fortnight. _post_, iv. . heale near salisbury, part of august and september; three weeks. _post_, iv. , . . oxford, june; a fortnight. _post_, iv. , . lichfield, ashbourn, oxford, from july to nov. . _post_, iv. , . that he was always eager to see the world is shown by many a passage in his writings and by the testimony of his biographers. how macaulay, who knew his _boswell_ so well, could have accused him of 'speaking of foreign travel with the fierce and boisterous contempt of ignorance' would be a puzzle indeed, did we not know how often this great rhetorician was by the stream of his own mighty rhetoric swept far away from the unadorned strand of naked truth. to his unjust and insulting attack i shall content myself with opposing the following extracts which with some trouble i have collected:-- or . johnson in his undergraduate days was one day overheard saying:-- 'i have a mind to see what is done in other places of learning. i'll go and visit the universities abroad. i'll go to france and italy. i'll go to padua.' _ante_, i. . . 'a generous and elevated mind is distinguished by nothing more certainly than an eminent degree of curiosity, nor is that curiosity ever more agreeably or usefully employed than in examining the laws and customs of foreign nations.' _ante_, i. . . 'curiosity is one of the permanent and certain characteristicks of a vigorous intellect.' _rambler_, no. . 'curiosity is in great and generous minds the first passion and the last; and perhaps always predominates in proportion to the strength of the contemplative faculties.' _ib_. no. . . francis barber, describing johnson's friends in , says:-- 'there was a talk of his going to iceland with mr. diamond, which would probably have happened had he lived.' _ante_, i. . johnson, in a letter to the wife of the poet smart, says, 'we have often talked of a voyage to iceland.' _post_, iv. note. mrs. thrale wrote to him when he was in the hebrides in :--'well! 'tis better talk of iceland. gregory challenges you for an iceland expedition; but i trust there is no need; i suppose good eyes might reach it from some of the places you have been in.' _piozzi letters_, i. . . johnson wrote to baretti:-- 'i wish you had staid longer in spain, for no country is less known to the rest of europe.' _ante_, i. . he twice recommended boswell to perambulate spain. _ante_, i. , . . 'dr. johnson flattered me (boswell) with some hopes that he would, in the course of the following summer, come over to holland, and accompany me in a tour through the netherlands.' _ante_, i. . . he said that he had had some desire, though he soon laid it aside, to go on an expedition round the world with mr. banks and dr. solander. _ante_, ii. . . 'dr. johnson and i talked of going to sweden.' boswell's _hebrides_, _post_, v. . on sept. , , boswell wrote to johnson:-- 'i shrink a little from our scheme of going up the baltick: i am sorry you have already been in wales; for i wish to see it.' _ante_, iii. . four days later johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'boswell shrinks from the baltick expedition, which, i think, is the best scheme in our power: what we shall substitute i know not. he wants to see wales; but except the woods of bachycraigh (_post_, v. ), what is there in wales, that can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench the thirst of curiosity? we may, perhaps, form some scheme or other; but in the phrase of _hockley in the hole_, it is a pity he has not a _better bottom_.' _ib_. note . boswell writes:-- 'martin's account of the hebrides had impressed us with a notion that we might there contemplate a system of life almost totally different from what we had been accustomed to see.... dr. johnson told me that his father put martin's account into his hands when he was very young, and that he was much pleased with it.' _post_, v. . from the hebrides johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:-- 'i have a desire to instruct myself in the whole system of pastoral life; but i know not whether i shall be able to perfect the idea. however, i have many pictures in my mind, which i could not have had without this journey; and should have passed it with great pleasure had you, and master, and queeney been in the party. we should have excited the attention and enlarged the observation of each other, and obtained many pleasing topicks of future conversation.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'we travelled with very little light in a storm of wind and rain; we passed about fifty-five streams that crossed our way, and fell into a river that, for a very great part of our road, foamed and roared beside us; all the rougher powers of nature except thunder were in motion, but there was no danger. i should have been sorry to have missed any of the inconveniencies, to have had more light or less rain, for their co-operation crowded the scene and filled the mind.' _ib_. p. . see _post_, v. for the splendid passage in which, describing the emotions raised in his mind by the sight of iona, he says:-- 'whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings.... that man is little to be envied whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plains of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of iona.' macaulay seems to have had the echo of these lines still in his ear, when he described imagination as 'that noble faculty whereby man is able to live in the past and in the future, in the distant and in the unreal.' _essays_, ed. , iii. . . when he saw some copper and iron works in wales he wrote:-- 'i have enlarged my notions.' _post_, v. . see also _ante_, iii. . his letter to warren hastings shows his curiosity about india. _ante,_ iv. . . the thrales had just received a sum of £ , . johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:-- 'if i had money enough, what would i do? perhaps, if you and master did not hold me, i might go to cairo, and down the red sea to bengal, and take a ramble to india. would this be better than building and planting? it would surely give more variety to the eye, and more amplitude to the mind. half fourteen thousand would send me out to see other forms of existence, and bring me back to describe them.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'regions mountainous and wild, thinly inhabited and little cultivated, make a great part of the earth, and he that has never seen them must live unacquainted with much of the face of nature, and with one of the great scenes of human existence.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'all travel has its advantages. if the traveller visits better countries he may learn to improve his own; and if fortune carries him to worse he may learn to enjoy it.' _ib_. p. . to dr. taylor he wrote:-- 'i came back last tuesday from france. is not mine a kind of life turned upside down? fixed to a spot when i was young, and roving the world when others are contriving to sit still, i am wholly unsettled. i am a kind of ship with a wide sail, and without an anchor.' _ante_, ii. , note . . in the spring of this year everything was settled for his journey to italy with the thrales. hannah more wrote (_memoirs_, i. ):-- 'johnson and mr. boswell have this day set out for oxford, lichfield, &c., that the doctor may take leave of all his old friends previous to his great expedition across the alps. i lament his undertaking such a journey at his time of life, with beginning infirmities. i hope he will not leave his bones on classic grounds.' boswell tells how-- 'speaking with a tone of animation johnson said, "we must, to be sure, see rome, naples, florence, and venice, and as much more as we can."' _ante_, iii. . when the journey was put off by the sudden death of mr. thrale's son, boswell wrote:-- 'i perceived that he had so warmly cherished the hope of enjoying classical scenes, that he could not easily part with the scheme; for he said, "i shall probably contrive to get to italy some other way."' _ib_. p. . a day later boswell wrote:-- 'a journey to italy was still in his thoughts. he said, "a man who has not been in italy is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. the grand object of travelling is to see the shores of the mediterranean."' _ib_. p. . 'johnson's desire to go abroad, particularly to see italy, was very great; and he had a longing wish, too, to leave some latin verses at the grand chartreux. he loved indeed the very act of travelling.... he was in some respects an admirable companion on the road, as he piqued himself upon feeling no inconvenience, and on despising no accommodations.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . johnson, this same year, speaking of a friend who had gone to the east indies, said:-- 'i had some intention of accompanying him. had i thought then as i do now, i should have gone.' _ante_, iii. . according to mr. tyers he once offered to attend another friend to india. moreover 'he talked much of travelling into poland to observe the life of the palatines, the account of which struck his curiosity very much.' _johnsoniana_, ed. , p. . . boswell wrote to johnson this year (_ante_, iii. ):-- 'you have, i believe, seen all the cathedrals in england except that of carlisle.' this was not the case, yet most of them he had already seen or lived to see. with lichfield, oxford, and london he was familiar. winchester and exeter he had seen in on his tour to devonshire (_ante_, i. ), peterborough, ely, lincoln, york, and durham he no doubt saw in on his way to scotland. the first three he might also have seen in on his visit to langton (_ante_, i. ). chester, st. asaph, bangor, and worcester he visited in in his journey to wales (_post_, v. , , , ). through canterbury he almost certainly passed in on his way to france (_ante_, ii. ). bristol he saw in (_ante_, iii. ). to chichester he drove from brighton in (_post_, iv. ). rochester and salisbury he visited in the summer of (_post_, iv. ). wells he might easily have seen when he was at bath in (_ante_, iii. ), and possibly gloucester. through norwich he perhaps came on his return from lincolnshire in (_ante_, i. ). hereford, i think, he could not have visited. when in the september of this year johnson and boswell were driving in dr. taylor's chaise to derby, 'johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a post-chaise. "if," said he, "i had no duties, and no reference to futurity, i would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would add something to the conversation"' (_ante_, iii. ). he had previously said (_ante_, ii. ), as he was driven rapidly along in a post-chaise, 'life has not many things better than this.' . boswell wrote to johnson:-- 'my wife is so different from you and me that she dislikes travelling.' _ante_, iii. . later on in the year boswell records:-- 'dr. johnson expressed a particular enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of china. i catched it for the moment, and said i really believed i should go and see the wall of china had i not children, of whom it was my duty to take care. "sir, (said he,) by doing so you would do what would be of importance in raising your children to eminence. there would be a lustre reflected upon them from your spirit and curiosity. they would be at all times regarded as the children of a man who had gone to view the wall of china. i am serious, sir."' _ante_, iii. . . in august he wrote to boswell:-- 'i know not whether i shall get a ramble this summer.... i hope you and i may yet shew ourselves on some part of europe, asia, or africa.' _ante_, iii. . in the same year johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:-- 'i hope you have no design of stealing away to italy before the election, nor of leaving me behind you; though i am not only seventy, but seventy-one.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . on oct. he wrote:-- 'the summer has been foolishly lost, like many other of my summers and winters. i hardly saw a green field, but staid in town to work, without working much.' _ante_, iii. . . johnson's wish to go to italy in the last year of his life was caused by the hope that it might be good for his health. 'i do not,' he wrote, 'travel for pleasure or curiosity; yet if i should recover,' he added, 'curiosity would revive.' _post_, iv. . mrs. piozzi, without however giving the year, records:-- 'dr. johnson was very angry with a gentleman at our house for not being better company, and urged that he had travelled into bohemia and seen prague. "surely," added he, "the man who has seen prague might tell us something new and something strange, and not sit silent for want of matter to put his lips in motion."' piozzi's _journey_, ii. . all these passages shew, what indeed is evident enough from the text, that it was not travelling in general but travelling between the ages of nineteen and twenty-four, with a character unformed, a memory unstored, and a judgment untrained, that johnson attacked. it was a common habit in his day to send young men of fortune to make the tour of europe, as it was called, at an age when they would now be sent to either oxford or cambridge. lord charlemont was but eighteen when he left england. locke, at the end of his work on _education_, said in much the same as johnson said in . 'the ordinary time of travel,' he wrote, 'is from sixteen to one and twenty.' he would send any one either at a younger age than sixteen under a tutor, or at an older age than twenty-one without a tutor; 'when he is of age to govern himself, and make observations of what he finds in other countries worthy his notice ... and when, too, being thoroughly acquainted with the laws and fashions, the natural and moral advantages and defects of his own country, he has something to exchange with those abroad, from whose conversation he hoped to reap any knowledge.' goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_, ch. xiii, wrote in :-- 'we see more of the world by travel, but more of human nature by remaining at home.... a youth just landed at the brille resembles a clown at a puppet-show; carries his amazement from one miracle to another; from this cabinet of curiosities to that collection of pictures; but wondering is not the way to grow wise.... the greatest advantages which result to youth from travel are an easy address, the shaking off national prejudices, and the finding nothing ridiculous in national peculiarities. the time spent in these acquisitions could have been more usefully employed at home.' gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) says that 'the previous and indispensable requisites of foreign travel are age, judgment, a competent knowledge of men and books, and a freedom from domestic prejudices.' when he was only eighteen years old he saw the evils of early travelling:-- 'i never liked young travellers; they go too raw to make any great remarks, and they lose a time which is (in my opinion) the most precious part of a man's life.' _ib_. p. . cowper, in his _progress of error_ (ed. , i. ), describes how-- 'his stock, a few french phrases got by heart, with much to learn and nothing to impart, the youth obedient to his sire's commands, sets off a wanderer into foreign lands. * * * * * returning he proclaims by many a grace, by shrugs and strange contortions of his face, how much a dunce that has been sent to roam excels a dunce that has been kept at home.' appendix c. election of lord mayors of london. (_page_ .) in the years - - , the lord mayor was not appointed by rotation; sir g. champion, the senior alderman, being accused of a leaning towards spain. from to (inclusive) if there was in any year a contest, yet in each case the senior alderman nominated was chosen. from to (inclusive) there was in every year a departure from the order of seniority. in - the order of seniority was again observed; so that two years before johnson made his remark the irregularity had come to an end. this information i owe to the kindness of mr. scott, the excellent chamberlain of the city. sir george champion had been passed over in the year also. in an address to the liverymen he says that 'the disorders and great disturbance to the peace of the city, which in former times had been occasioned by the over-eagerness of some, too ambitious and impatient to obtain this great honour, had been quieted' by the adoption of the order of seniority. _gent. mag_. , p. . among the lord mayors from - (inclusive) we find beckford, trecothick, crosby, townshend, bull, wilkes, and sawbridge. 'where did beckford and trecothick learn english?' asked johnson (_ante_, iii. ). crosby, in the year of his mayoralty ( - ), was committed to the tower by the house of commons, for having himself committed to prison a messenger of the house when attempting to arrest the printer of the _london evening debates_, who was accused of a breach of privilege in reporting the debates (_parl. hist_. xvii. ). townshend in the same year refused to pay the land-tax, on the plea that his county (middlesex) was no longer represented, as wilkes's election had been annulled (_walpole's letters_, v. ). bull in the house of commons violently attacked lord north's ministry (_parl. hist_. xix. ). sawbridge, year after year, brought into parliament a bill for shortening the duration of parliaments. during his mayoralty he would not suffer the pressgangs to enter the city. (walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. .) among the aldermen the court-party had a majority. in april wilkes's eligibility for election as an alderman was not allowed by a majority of ten to six (walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. , and _ann. reg_. xii. ). on his release from prison in april he was, however, admitted without a division (_ib_. xiii. ). when, in march , the city presented an outspoken remonstrance to the king, sixteen aldermen protested against it (walpole's _letters_, v. ). about this time there arose a great division in the popular party in the city. according to lord albemarle, in his _memoirs of rockingham_, ii. , from the period of this struggle 'the whigs and what are now called radicals became two distinct sections of the liberal party.' townshend, who in this followed the lead of lord shelburne, headed the more moderate men against wilkes. the result was that in each section running a candidate for the mayoralty, a third man, nash, who was opposed to both, was returned (walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. , and _ann. reg_. xiv. ). the livery, for a time at least, was wilkite. wilkes's name was sent up as lord mayor at the top of the list in and , but he was in each case passed over by the court of aldermen. it was not till that he was elected by a kind of 'hobson's choice.' the aldermen had to choose between him and the retiring lord mayor, bull. walpole, writing of nov. , says the new lord mayor 'invited the ministers to his feast, to which they had not been asked for seven years' (_journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. ). see boswell's _hebrides_, _post_, v. . appendix d. the inmates of johnson's house. (page .) in september of this year ( ) miss burney records the following conversation at streatham:--'mrs. thrale. "pray, sir, how does mrs. williams like all this tribe?" dr. j. "madam, she does not like them at all; but their fondness for her is not greater. she and desmoulins quarrel incessantly; but as they can both be occasionally of service to each other, and as neither of them have any other place to go to, their animosity does not force them to separate." ... mr. t. "and pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir?" dr. j. "why, sir, i am afraid there is none; a general anarchy prevails in my kitchen, as i am told by mr. levett, who says it is not now what it used to be." mrs. t. "mr. levett, i suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the hospital in health, for he is an apothecary." dr. j. "levett, madam, is a brutal fellow, but i have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind." mr. t. "but how do you get your dinners drest?" dr. j. "why, desmoulins has the chief management of the kitchen; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack." mr. t. "no jack! why, how do they manage without?" dr. j. "small joints, i believe, they manage with a string, and larger are done at the tavern. i have some thoughts (with a profound gravity) of buying a jack, because i think a jack is some credit to a house." mr. t. "well, but you'll have a spit too." dr. j. "no, sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never use it; and if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed." mrs. t. "but pray, sir, who is the poll you talk of? she that you used to abet in her quarrels with mrs. williams, and call out, _at her again, poll! never flinch, poll!_" dr. j. "why, i took to poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination." mrs. t. "how came she among you, sir?" dr. j. "why, i don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. poll is a stupid slut. i had some hopes of her at first; but when i talked to her tightly and closely, i could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle, and i could never persuade her to be categorical."' mme. d'arblay's _diary,_ i. . more than a year later johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'discord keeps her residence in this habitation, but she has for some time been silent. we have much malice, but no mischief. levett is rather a friend to williams, because he hates desmoulins more. a thing that he should hate more than desmoulins is not to be found.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'he really was oftentimes afraid of going home, because he was so sure to be met at the door with numberless complaints; and he used to lament pathetically to me that they made his life miserable from the impossibility he found of making theirs happy, when every favour he bestowed on one was wormwood to the rest. if, however, i ventured to blame their ingratitude, and condemn their conduct, he would instantly set about softening the one and justifying the other; and finished commonly by telling me, that i knew not how to make allowances for situations i never experienced.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) says:--'almost throughout johnson's life poverty and distressed circumstances seemed to be the strongest of all recommendations to his favour. when asked by one of his most intimate friends, how he could bear to be surrounded by such necessitous and undeserving people as he had about him, his answer was, "if i did not assist them, no one else would, and they must be lost for want."' 'his humanity and generosity, in proportion to his slender income, were,' writes murphy (_life_, p. ), 'unbounded. it has been truly said that the lame, the blind, and the sorrowful found in his house a sure retreat.' see also _ante_, iii. . at the same time it must be remembered that while mrs. desmoulins and miss carmichael only brought trouble into the house, in the society of mrs. williams and levett he had real pleasure. see _ante_, i. , note , and , note . * * * * * appendix e. boswell's letters of acceptance of the office of secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy. (_page , note i_.) letter i. 'agli illustrissimi signori il presidente e consiglieri dell' academia reale delle arti in londra. 'avreste forse illustrissimi signori potuto scegliere molte persone piu degne dell' ufficcio di segretario per la corrispondenza straniera; ma non sarebbe, son certo, stato possibile di trovar alcuno dal quale questa distinzione sarebbe stata piu stimata. sento con un animo molto riconoscente la parzialitá che l'academia a ben voluto mostrar per me; e mi conto felicissimo che la mia elezione sia stata graziosamente confirmata dalla sua maestá lo stesso sovrano che a fondato l'academia, e che si é sempre mostrato il suo beneficente protettore. 'vi prego, signori, di credere que porro ogni mio studio a contribuire tanto che potro alia prosperita della nostra instituzione ch' é gia arrivata ad un punto si rispettevole. 'ho l'onore d'essere, 'illustrissimi signori, 'vostro umilissimo, 'e divotissimo servo, 'giacomo boswell.' 'londra, ' d'ottobre, .' letter. ii. 'a messieurs le president et les autres membres du conseil de l'academie royale des arts à londres. 'messieurs, 'c'est avec la plus vive reconnoissance que j'accepte la charge de secretaire pour la correspondence etrangêre de votre academie á laquelle j'ai eu l'honneur d'etre choisi par vos suffrages unanimes gracieusement confirmés par sa majesté. 'ce choix spontané messieurs me flatte beaucoup; et m'inspire des desirs les plus ardens de m'en montrer digne, au moins par la promptitude avec laquelle je saisirai toute occasion de faire ce que je pourrai pour contribuer á l'avantage des arts et la celebrité de l'academie. 'j'ai l'honneur d'etre avec toute la consideration possible, 'messieurs, 'votre serviteur tres obligé tres humble et tres fidel, 'boswell.' 'a londres, 'ce d'octobre, ' [in this letter i have made no attempt to correct boswell's errors.] letter iii. 'to the president and council of the royal academy of arts in london. 'gentlemen, 'your unsolicited and unanimous election of me to be secretary for foreign correspondence to your academy, and the gracious confirmation of my election by his majesty, i acknowledge with the warmest sentiments of gratitude and respect. 'i have always loved the arts, and during my travels on the continent i did not neglect the opportunities which i had of cultivating a taste for them.[ ] that taste i trust will now be much improved, when i shall be so happy as to share in the advantages which the royal academy affords; and i fondly embrace this very pleasing distinction as giving me the means of providing additional solace for the future years of my life. 'be assured, gentlemen, that as i am proud to be a member of an academy which has the peculiar felicity of not being at all dependant on a minister[ ], but under the immediate patronage and superintendence of the sovereign himself, i shall be zealous to do every thing in my power that can be of any service to our excellent institution. 'i have the honour to be, 'gentlemen, 'your much obliged 'and faithful humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'london, ' october, .' letter iv. 'sir, 'i am much obliged to you for the very polite terms in which you have been pleased to communicate to me my election to be secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy of arts in london; and i request that you will lay before the president and council the enclosed letters signifying my acceptance of that office. 'i am with great regard, 'sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'london, ' october, . 'to john richards, esq., r.a. &c.' bennet langton's letter of acceptance of the professorship of ancient literature in the place of johnson is dated april , . i must express my acknowledgments to the president and council of the royal academy for their kindness in allowing me to copy the above letters from the originals that are in their possession. footnotes: [ ] see ante, march , . [ ] _anecdotes of johnson_, p. . boswell. 'it is,' he said, 'so _very_ difficult for a sick man not to be a scoundrel.' ib. p. . he called fludyer a scoundrel (_ante_, march , ), apparently because he became a whig. 'he used to say a man was a scoundrel that was afraid of anything. "whoever thinks of going to bed before twelve o'clock is," he said, "a scoundrel."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , . mr. croker points out that 'johnson in his _dictionary_ defined _knave_, a scoundrel; _sneakup_, a scoundrel; _rascal_, a scoundrel; _loon_, a scoundrel; _lout_, a scoundrel; _poltroon_, a scoundrel; and that he coined the word _scoundrelism_' (boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , ). churchill, in _the ghost_, book ii. (_poems_, i. . ), describes johnson as one 'who makes each sentence current pass, with _puppy, coxcomb, scoundrel, ass_.' swift liked the word. 'god forbid,' he wrote, 'that ever such a scoundrel as want should dare to approach you.' swift's _works_, ed. , xviii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for johnson's fondness for the old romances. [ ] boswell, _ante_, i. , implies that sheridan's pension was partly due to wedderburne's influence. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] akenside, in his _ode to townshend_ (book ii. ), says:-- 'for not imprudent of my loss to come, i saw from contemplation's quiet cell his feet ascending to another home, where public praise and envied greatness dwell.' he had, however, no misgivings, for he thus ends:-- 'then for the guerdon of my lay, this man with faithful friendship, will i say, from youth to honoured age my arts and me hath viewed.' [ ] we have now more knowledge generally diffused; all our ladies read now 'which is a great extension.' _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, april, , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] newbery, the publisher, was the vendor of dr. james's famous powder. it was known that on the doctor's death a chemist whom he had employed meant to try to steal the business, under the pretence that he alone knew the secret of the preparation. a supply of powders enough to last for many years was laid in by newbery in anticipation, while james left an affidavit that the chemist was never employed in the manufacture. he, however, asserted that james was deprived of his mental faculties when the affidavit was made. evidence against this was collected and published; the conclusion to the preface being written by johnson. _a bookseller of the last century_, p. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on the birth of a second son who died early:--'i congratulate you upon your boy; but you must not think that i shall love him all at once as well as i love harry, for harry you know is so rational. i shall love him by degrees.' _piozzi letters_, i. . a week after harry's death he wrote:--'i loved him as i never expect to love any other little boy; but i could not love him as a parent.' _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson had known this anxiety. he wrote to mrs. thrale from ashbourne on july , :--'i cannot think why i hear nothing from you. i hope and fear about my dear friends at streatham. but i may have a letter this afternoon--sure it will bring me no bad news.' _ib_. i. . see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _ante_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, march , , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] the phrase 'vexing thoughts,' is i think, very expressive. it has been familiar to me from my childhood; for it is to be found in the _psalms in metre_, used in the churches (i believe i should say _kirks_) of scotland, _psal_. xliii. v. ; 'why art thou then cast down, my soul? what should discourage thee? and why with _vexing thoughts art_ thou disquieted in me?' some allowance must no doubt be made for early prepossession. but at a maturer period of life, after looking at various metrical versions of the _psalms_, i am well satisfied that the version used in scotland is, upon the whole, the best; and that it has in general a simplicity and _unction_ of sacred poesy; and in many parts its transfusion is admirable. boswell. [ ] 'burke and reynolds are the same one day as another,' johnson said, _post_, under sept. , . boswell celebrates reynolds's 'equal and placid temper,' _ante_, i. i. on aug. , , he wrote to temple:--'it is absurd to hope for continual happiness in this life; few men, if any, enjoy it. i have a kind of belief that edmund burke does; he has so much knowledge, so much animation, and the consciousness of so much fame.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] _ante_, i. . [ ] baretti says, that 'mrs. thrale abruptly proposed to start for bath, as wishing to avoid the sight of the funeral. she had no man-friend to go with her,' and so he offered his services. johnson at that moment arrived. 'i expected that he would spare me the jaunt, and go himself to bath with her; but he made no motion to that effect.' _european mag_. xiii. . it was on the evening of the th that boswell found johnson, as he thought, not in very good humour. yet on the th he wrote to mrs. thrale, and called on mr. thrale. on april and april he again wrote to mrs. thrale. he would have gone a second time, he says, to see mr. thrale, had he not been made to understand that when he was wanted he would be sent for. _piozzi letters_, i. - . [ ] pope, _essay on man_, iv. . boswell twice more applies the same line to johnson, post, june , , and under dec. , . [ ] imlac consoles the princess for the loss of pekuah. 'when the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor can imagine how they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. but they who restrain themselves from receiving comfort do as the savages would have done, had they put out their eyes when it was dark.' _rasselas_, ch. . 'keep yourself busy,' wrote johnson to mrs. thrale, 'and you will in time grow cheerful. new prospects may open, and new enjoyments may come within your reach.' _piozzi letters_. [ ] see _ante_, i. . it was reprinted in . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_ under nov. , . [ ] see _post_, under april , . [ ] in like manner he writes, 'i catched for the moment an enthusiasm with respect to visiting the wall of china.' _post_ april , . johnson had had some desire to go upon cook's expedition in . _ante_, march , . [ ] mme. d'arblay (_memoirs of dr. burney_, i. ) describes 'the perfect case with which omai managed a sword which he had received from the king, and which he had that day put on for the first time in order to go to the house of lords.' he is the 'gentle savage' in cowpers _task_, i. . [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] voltaire (_siècle de louis xv_, ch. xv.), in his account of the battle of fontenoy, thus mentions him:--'on était à cinquante pas de distance.... les officiers anglais saluèrent les français en ôtant leurs chapeaux.... les officiers des gardes françaises leur rendirent le salut, mylord charles hay, capitaine aux gardes anglaises, cria:--_messieurs des gardes françaises, tirez_. le comte d'auteroche leur dit a voix haute:--_messieurs, nous ne tirons jamais les premiers; tirez vous-mêmes_.' [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. hay was third in command in the expedition to north america in . it was reported that he said that 'the nation's wealth was expended in making sham-fights and planting cabbages.' he was put under arrest and sent home to be tried. _gent. mag_. , p. . mr. croker says that 'the real state of the case was that he had gone mad, and was in that state sent home.' he died before the sentence of the court-martial was promulgated. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] in _thoughts on the coronation of george iii_ (_works_, v. ) he expressed himself differently, if indeed the passage is of his writing (see _ante_, i. ). he says: 'it cannot but offend every englishman to see troops of soldiers placed between him and his sovereign, as if they were the most honourable of the people, or the king required guards to secure his person from his subjects. as their station makes them think themselves important, their insolence is always such as may be expected from servile authority.' in his _journey to the hebrides_ (_ib_. ix. ) he speaks of 'that courtesy which is so closely connected with the military character.' see _post_, april , . [ ] 'it is not in the power even of god to make a polite soldier.' meander; quoted by hume, _essays_, part i. , note. [ ] in johnson's debates for (_works_, x. ) is on the quartering of soldiers. by the mutiny act the innkeeper was required to find each foot-soldier lodging, diet, and small beer for fourpence a day. by the act as amended that year if he furnished salt, vinegar, small-beer, candles, fire, and utensils to dress their victuals, without payment, he had not to supply diet except on a march. _ib_. pp. , . the allowance of small-beer was fixed at five pints a day, though it was maintained that it should be six. lord baltimore, according to johnson, said that 'as every gentleman's servants each consumed daily six pints, it surely is not to be required that a soldier should live in a perpetual state of warfare with his constitution.' _ib_. p. . burke, writing in , says:--'in quarters the innkeepers are obliged to find for the soldiers lodging, fire, candle-light, small-beer, salt and vinegar gratis.' burke's _corres_. iv. . johnson wrote in (_works_, vi. ):--'the manner in which the soldiers are dispersed in quarters over the country during times of peace naturally produces laxity of discipline; they are very little in sight of their officers; and when they are not engaged in the slight duty of the guard are suffered to live every man his own way.' fielding, in _tom jones_, bk. ix. ch. , humourously describes an innkeeper's grievances. [ ] this alludes to the pleadings of a stoic and an epicurean for and against the existence of the divinity in lucian's _jupiter the tragic_. croker. [ ] 'there is a time when every man is weary of raising difficulties only to ask himself with the solution and desires to enjoy truth without the labour or hazard of contest.' johnson's _works_, vi. . see _ante_ may , , and _post_, april , , where he says, 'sir, you are to a certain degree hurt by knowing that even one man does not believe.' hume, in his essay _of parties in general_, had written:--'such is the nature of the human mind, that it always takes hold of every mind that approaches it; and as it is wonderfully fortified and corroborated by an unanimity of sentiments, so is it, shocked and disturbed by any contrariety.' 'carlyle was fond of quoting a sentence of novalis:--"my conviction gains infinitely the moment another soul will believe in it."' _saturday review_, no. , p. . 'the introducing of new doctrines,' said bacon, 'is an affectation of tyranny over the understandings and beliefs of men.' bacon's _nat. hist_., experiment . [ ] 'we must own,' said johnson, 'that neither a dull boy, nor an idle boy, will do so well at a great school as at a private one.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . see _ante_, under dec. , . on june , , he said of a very timid boy:--'placing him at a public school is forcing an owl upon day.' lord shelburne says that the first pitt told him 'that his reason for preferring private to public education was, that he scarce observed a boy who was not cowed for life at eton; that a public school might suit a boy of a turbulent forward disposition, but would not do where there was any gentleness.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] 'there are,' wrote hume in , 'several advantages of a scots education; but the question is, whether that of the language does not counterbalance them, and determine the preference to the english.' he decides it does. he continues:--'the only inconvenience is, that few scotsmen that have had an english education have ever settled cordially in their own country; and they have been commonly lost ever after to their friends.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] he wrote to temple on nov. , :--'my eldest son has been at eton since the th of october. you cannot imagine how miserable he has been; he wrote to me for some time as if from the galleys, and intreated me to come to him.' _letters of boswell_, p. . on july , , he wrote of his second son who was at home ill:--'i am in great concern what should be done with him, for he is so oppressed at westminster school by the big boys that i am almost afraid to send him thither.' _ib_. p. . on april , , he wrote:--'your little friend james is quite reconciled to westminster.' _ib_. p. . southey, who was at westminster with young boswell, describes 'the capricious and dangerous tyranny' under which he himself had suffered. southey's _life_, i. . [ ] horace, satires, i. . - . [ ] dr. adam smith, who was for some time a professor in the university of glasgow, has uttered, in his _wealth of nations_ [v. i, iii. ], some reflections upon this subject which are certainly not well founded, and seem to be invidious. boswell. [ ] see _ante,_ ii. . [ ] gibbon denied this. 'the diligence of the tutors is voluntary, and will consequently be languid, while the pupils themselves, or their parents, are not indulged in the liberty of choice or change,' _misc. works_, i. . of one of his tutors he wrote:--'he well remembered that he had a salary to receive, and only forgot that he had a duty to perform.' _ib_. p. . boswell, _post_, end of nov. , blames dr. knox for 'ungraciously attacking his venerable _alma mater_.' knox, who was a fellow of st. john's, left oxford in . in his _liberal education_, published in , he wrote:--'i saw immorality, habitual drunkenness, idleness and ignorance, boastingly obtruding themselves on public view.' knox's _works_, iv. . 'the general tendency of the universities is favourable to the diffusion of ignorance, idleness, vice, and infidelity among young men.' _ib_. p. . 'in no part of the kingdom will you meet with more licentious practices and sentiments, and with less learning than in some colleges.' _ib_. p. . 'the tutors give what are called lectures. the boys construe a classic, the jolly young tutor lolls in his elbow-chair, and seldom gives himself the trouble of interrupting the greatest dunce.' _ib_. p. . 'some societies would have been glad to shut themselves up by themselves, and enjoy the good things of the cook and manciple, without the intrusion of commoners who come for education.' _ib_. p. . 'the principal thing required is external respect from the juniors. however ignorant or unworthy a senior fellow may be, yet the slightest disrespect is treated as the greatest crime of which an academic can be guilty.' _ib_. p. . the proctors gave far 'more frequent reprimands to the want of a band, or to the hair tied in queue, than to important irregularities. a man might be a drunkard, a debauchee, and yet long escape the proctor's animadversion; but no virtue could protect you if you walked on christ-church meadow or the high street with a band tied too low, or with no band at all; with a pig-tail, or with a green or scarlet coat.' _ib_. p. . only thirteen weeks' residence a year was required. _ib_. p. . the degree was conferred without examination. _ib_. p. . after taking it 'a man offers himself as a candidate for orders. he is examined by the bishop's chaplain. he construes a few verses in the greek testament, and translates one of the articles from latin into english. his testimonial being received he comes from his jolly companions to the care of a large parish.' _ib_. p. . bishop law gave in a different account of cambridge. there, he complains, such was the devotion to mathematics, that 'young men often sacrifice their whole stock of strength and spirits, and so entirely devote most of their first few years to what is called _taking a good degree_, as to be hardly good for anything else.' preface to archbishop king's _essay on the origin of evil_, p. xx. [ ] according to adam smith this is true only of the protestant countries. in roman catholic countries and england where benefices are rich, the church is continually draining the universities of all their ablest members. in scotland and protestant countries abroad, where a chair in a university is generally a better establishment than a benefice, by far the greater part of the most eminent men of letters have been professors. _wealth of nations_, v. i. iii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] dr. goldsmith was dead before mr. maclaurin discovered the ludicrous errour. but mr. nourse, the bookseller, who was the proprietor of the work, upon being applied to by sir john pringle, agreed very handsomely to have the leaf on which it was contained cancelled, and re-printed without it, at his own expence. boswell. in the second edition, published five years after goldsmith's death, the story remains. in a foot-note the editor says, that 'he has been credibly informed that the professor had not the defect here mentioned.' the story is not quite as boswell tells it. 'maclaurin,' writes goldsmith (ii. ), 'was very subject to have his jaw dislocated; so that when he opened his mouth wider than ordinary, or when he yawned, he could not shut it again. in the midst of his harangues, therefore, if any of his pupils began to be tired of his lecture, he had only to gape or yawn, and the professor instantly caught the sympathetic affection; so that he thus continued to stand speechless, with his mouth wide open, till his servant, from the next room, was called in to set his jaw again.' [ ] dr. shebbeare (_post_, april , ) was tried for writing a libellous pamphlet. horace walpole says:--'the bitterest parts of the work were a satire on william iii and george i. the most remarkable part of this trial was the chief justice mansfield laying down for law that satires even on dead kings were punishable. adieu! veracity and history, if the king's bench is to appreciate your expressions!' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] what dr. johnson has here said, is undoubtedly good sense; yet i am afraid that law, though defined by _lord coke_ 'the perfection of reason,' is not altogether _with him_; for it is held in the books, that an attack on the reputation even of a dead man, may be punished as a libel, because tending to a breach of the peace. there is, however, i believe, no modern decided case to that effect. in the king's bench, trinity term, , the question occurred on occasion of an indictment, _the king_ v. _topham_, who, as a _proprietor_ of a news-paper entitled _the world_, was found guilty of a libel against earl cowper, deceased, because certain injurious charges against his lordship were published in that paper. an arrest of judgment having been moved for, the case was afterwards solemnly argued. my friend mr. const, whom i delight in having an opportunity to praise, not only for his abilities but his manners; a gentleman whose ancient german blood has been mellowed in england, and who may be truely said to unite the _baron_ and the _barrister_, was one of the counsel for mr. topham. he displayed much learning and ingenuity upon the general question; which, however, was not decided, as the court granted an arrest chiefly on the informality of the indictment. no man has a higher reverence for the law of england than i have; but, with all deference i cannot help thinking, that prosecution by indictment, if a defendant is never to be allowed to justify, must often be very oppressive, unless juries, whom i am more and more confirmed in holding to be judges of law as well as of fact, resolutely interpose. of late an act of parliament has passed declaratory of their full right to one as well as the other, in matter of libel; and the bill having been brought in by a popular gentleman, many of his party have in most extravagant terms declaimed on the wonderful acquisition to the liberty of the press. for my own part i ever was clearly of opinion that this right was inherent in the very constitution of a jury, and indeed in sense and reason inseparable from their important function. to establish it, therefore, by statute, is, i think, narrowing its foundation, which is the broad and deep basis of common law. would it not rather weaken the right of primo-geniture, or any other old and universally-acknowledged right, should the legislature pass an act in favour of it? in my _letter to the people of scotland, against diminishing the number of the lords of session_, published in , there is the following passage, which, as a concise, and i hope a fair and rational state of the matter, i presume to quote: 'the juries of england are judges of _law_ as well as of fact, in _many civil_, and in all _criminals_ trials. that my principles of _resistance_ may not be misapprehended and more than my principles of _submission_, i protest that i should be the last man in the world to encourage juries to contradict rashly, wantonly, or perversely, the opinion of the judges. on the contrary, i would have them listen respectfully to the advise they receive from the bench, by which they may be often well directed in forming _their own opinion_; which, "and not anothers," is the opinion they are to return _upon their oaths_. but where, after due attention to all that the judge has said, they are decidedly of a different opinion from him, they have not only a _power and a right_, but they are _bound in conscience_ to bring in a verdict accordingly.' bowell. _the world_ is described by gifford in his _baviad and marviad_, as a paper set up by 'a knot of fantastic coxcombs to direct the taste of the town.' lowndes (_bibl. man_. ed. , p. ) confounds it with _the world_ mentioned _ante_, i. . the 'popular gentleman' was fox, whose libel bill passed the house of lords in june . _parl. hist_. xxix. . [ ] nobody, that is to say, but johnson. _post_, p. , note . [ ] of this service johnson recorded:--'in the morning i had at church some radiations of comfort.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] baretti, in a marginal note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says:-- 'mr. thrale, who was a worldly man, and followed the direction of his own feelings with no philosophical or christian distinctions, having now lost the strong hope of being one day succeeded in the profitable brewery by the only son he had left, gave himself silently up to his grief, and fell in a few years a victim to it.' in a second note (ii. ) he says:--'the poor man could never subdue his grief on account of his son's death.' [ ] a gentleman, who from his extraordinary stores of knowledge, has been stiled _omniscient_. johnson, i think very properly, altered it to all-knowing, as it is a _verbum solenne_, appropriated to the supreme being. boswell. [ ] mrs. thrale wrote to him on may :--'should you write about streatham and croydon, the book would be as good to me as a journey to rome, exactly; for 'tis johnson, not _falkland's islands_ that interest us, and your style is invariably the same. the sight of rome might have excited more reflections indeed than the sight of the hebrides, and so the book might be bigger, but it would not be better a jot.' _piozzi letters_, i . [ ] hawkins says (_life_, p. ) that 'johnson was never greedy of money, but without money could not be stimulated to write. i have been told by a clergyman with whom he had been long acquainted, that, being (sic) to preach on a particular occasion, he applied to him for help. "i will write a sermon for thee," said johnson, "but thou must pay me for it."' see _post_, may , . horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) records an anecdote that he had from hawkins:--'when dr. johnson was at his work on his _shakespeare_, sir john said to him, "well! doctor, now you have finished your _dictionary_, i suppose you will labour your present work _con amore_ for your reputation." "no sir," said johnson, "nothing excites a man to write but necessity."' walpole then relates the anecdote of the clergyman, and speaks of johnson as 'the mercenary.' walpole's sinecure offices thirty-nine years before this time brought him in 'near, £ a year.' in he wrote that his office of usher of the exchequer was worth £ a year. _letters_, i. lxxix, lxxxii. [ ] swift wrote in , when he was sixty-seven:--'i never got a farthing by anything i writ, except one about eight years ago, and that was by mr. pope's prudent management for me.' _works_, xix. . it was, i conjecture, _gulliver's travels_. hume, in , wrote:--'i am writing the _history of england_ from the accession of henry vii. i undertook this work because i was tired of idleness, and found reading alone, after i had often perused all good books (which i think is soon done), somewhat a languid occupation.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] this mr. ellis was, i believe, the last of that profession called _scriveners_, which is one of the london companies, but of which the business is no longer carried on separately, but is transacted by attornies and others. he was a man of literature and talents. he was the authour of a hudibrastick version of maphæsus's _canto_, in addition to the _Ã�neid_; of some poems in dodsley's _collections_; and various other small pieces; but being a very modest man, never put his name to anything. he shewed me a translation which he had made of ovid's _epistles_, very prettily done. there is a good engraved portrait of him by pether, from a picture by fry, which hangs in the hall of the scriveners' company. i visited him october , , in his ninety-third year, and found his judgment distinct and clear, and his memory, though faded so as to fail him occasionally, yet, as he assured me, and i indeed perceived, able to serve him very well, after a little recollection. it was agreeable to observe, that he was free from the discontent and fretfulness which too often molest old age. he in the summer of that year walked to rotherhithe, where he dined, and walked home in the evening. he died on the st of december, . boswell. the version of maphæsus's 'bombastic' additional _canto_ is advertised in the _gent. mag_. , p. . the engraver of mr. ellis's portrait in the first two editions is called peffer. [ ] 'admiral walsingham boasted that he had entertained more miscellaneous parties than any other man in london. at one time he had received the duke of cumberland, dr. johnson, mr. nairne the optician, and leoni the singer. it was at his table that dr. johnson made that excellent reply to a pert coxcomb who baited him during dinner. "pray now," said he to the doctor, "what would you give, old gentleman, to be as young and sprightly as i am?" "why, sir, i think," replied johnson, "i would almost be content to be as foolish."' cradock's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] 'dr. johnson almost always prefers the company of an intelligent man of the world to that of a scholar.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] see j.h. burton's _hume_, i. , for an account of him. [ ] lord macartney, who with his other distinguished qualities, is remarkable also for an elegant pleasantry, told me, that he met johnson at lady craven's, and that he seemed jealous of any interference: 'so, (said his lordship, smiling,) _i kept back_.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] there is an account of him in sir john hawkins's life of johnson. boswell. hawkins (life, p. ) records the following sarcasm of ballow. in a coffee-house he attacked the profession of physic, which akenside, who was a physician as well as poet, defended. 'doctor,' said ballow, 'after all you have said, my opinion of the profession of physic is this. the ancients endeavoured to make it a science, and failed; and the moderns to make it a trade, and have succeeded.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] i have in vain endeavoured to find out what parts johnson wrote for dr. james. perhaps medical men may. boswell. see _ante_, i. . johnson, needing medicine at montrose, 'wrote the prescription in technical characters.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] horace walpole, writing of may in this year, says that general smith, an adventurer from the east indies, who was taken off by foote in _the nabob_, 'being excluded from the fashionable club of young men of quality at almack's, had, with a set of sharpers, formed a plan for a new club, which, by the excess of play, should draw all the young extravagants thither. they built a magnificent house in st. james's-street, and furnished it gorgeously.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] he said the same when in scotland. boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. , . on the other hand, in _the rambler_, no. , he wrote:--'it is scarcely possible to pass an hour in honest conversation, without being able, when we rise from it, to please ourselves with having given or received some advantages; but a man may shuffle cards, or rattle dice, from noon to midnight, without tracing any new idea in his mind, or being able to recollect the day by any other token than his gain or loss, and a confused remembrance of agitated passions, and clamorous altercations.' [ ] 'few reflect,' says warburton, 'on what a great wit has so ingenuously owned. that wit is generally false reasoning.' the wit was wycherley. see his letter xvi. to pope in pope's _works_. warburton's _divine legation_, i. xii. [ ] 'perhaps no man was ever more happy than dr. johnson in the extempore and masterly defence of any cause which, at the given moment, he chose to defend.' stockdale's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] burke, in a letter that he wrote in (_corres_. i. ), must have had in mind his talks with johnson. 'nay,' he said, 'it is not uncommon, when men are got into debates, to take now one side, now another, of a question, as the momentary humour of the man and the occasion called for, with all the latitude that the antiquated freedom and ease of english conversation among friends did, in former days, encourage and excuse.' h.c. robinson (_diary_, iii. ) says that dr. burney 'spoke with great warmth of affection of dr. johnson, and said he was the kindest creature in the world when he thought he was loved and respected by others. he would play the fool among friends, but he required deference. it was necessary to ask questions and make no assertion. if you said two and two make four, he would say, 'how will you prove that, sir?' dr. burney seemed amiably sensitive to every unfavourable remark on his old friend. [ ] patrick lord elibank, who died in . boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] yet he said of him:--'sir, there is nothing conclusive in his talk.' see _post_, p. . [ ] johnson records of this good friday:--'my design was to pass part of the day in exercises of piety, but mr. boswell interrupted me; of him, however, i could have rid myself; but poor thrale, _orbus et exspes_, came for comfort, and sat till seven, when we all went to church.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] johnson's entries at easter shew this year, and some of the following years, more peace of mind than hitherto. thus this easter he records, 'i had at church some radiations of comfort.... when i received, some tender images struck me. i was so mollified by the concluding address to our saviour that i could not utter it.' _pr. and med_. pp. , . 'easter-day, , i was for some time much distressed, but at last obtained, i hope from the god of peace, more quiet than i have enjoyed for a long time. i had made no resolution, but as my heart grew lighter, my hopes revived, and my courage increased.' _ib_. p. . 'good friday, . i went with some confidence and calmness through the prayers.' _ib_. p. . [ ] '_nunquam enim nisi navi plenâ tollo vectorem_.' lib. ii. c. vi. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii, . [ ] cheyne's _english malady, or a treatise of nervous diseases of all kinds_, . he recommended a milk, seed, and vegetable diet; by seed he apparently meant any kind of grain. he did not take meat. he drank green tea. at one time he weighed thirty-two stones. his work shews the great change in the use of fermented liquors since his time. thus he says:--'for nearly twenty years i continued sober, moderate, and plain in my diet, and in my greatest health drank not above a quart, or three pints at most of wine any day' (p. ). 'for near one-half of the time from thirty to sixty i scarce drank any strong liquor at all. it will be found that upon the whole i drank very little above a pint of wine, or at most not a quart one day with another, since i was near thirty' (p. ). johnson a second time recommended boswell to read this book, _post_, july , . see _ante_, i. . boswell was not the man to follow cheyne's advice. of one of his works wesley says:--'it is one of the most ingenious books which i ever saw. but what epicure will ever regard it? for "the man talks against good eating and drinking."' wesley's _journal_, i. . young, in his _epistles to pope_, no. ii. says:-- '--three ells round huge cheyne rails at meat.' dr. j. h. burton (_life of hume_, i. ) shews reason for believing that a very curious letter by hume was written to cheyne. [ ] '"solitude," he said one day, "is dangerous to reason, without being favourable to virtue; pleasures of some sort are necessary to the intellectual as to the corporeal health; and those who resist gaiety will be likely for the most part to fall a sacrifice to appetite; for the solicitations of sense are always at hand, and a dram to a vacant and solitary person is a speedy and seducing relief. remember (continued he) that the solitary mortal is certainly luxurious, probably superstitious, and possibly mad."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] the day before he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'mr. thrale's alteration of purpose is not weakness of resolution; it is a wise man's compliance with the change of things, and with the new duties which the change produces. whoever expects me to be angry will be disappointed. i do not even grieve at the effect, i grieve only at the cause.' _piozzi letters_, i. . mrs. thrale on may wrote:--'baretti said you would be very angry, because this dreadful event made us put off our italian journey, but i knew you better. who knows even now that 'tis deferred for ever? mr. thrale says he shall not die in peace without seeing rome, and i am sure he will go no-where that he can help without you.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, july , , note, where boswell complains of children being 'suffered to poison the moments of festivity.' [ ] boswell, _post_, under march , , says, 'johnson discovered a love of little children upon all occasions.' [ ] johnson at a later period thought otherwise. _post_, march , . [ ] pope borrowed from the following lines:-- 'when on my sick bed i languish, full of sorrow, full of anguish; fainting, gasping, trembling, crying, panting, groaning, speechless, dying-- methinks i hear some gentle spirit say, be not fearful, come away.' campbell's _brit. poets_, p. . [ ] in rochester's _allusion to the tenth satire of the first book of horace_. [ ] in the _monthly review_ for may, , there is such a correction of the above passage, as i should think myself very culpable not to subjoin. 'this account is very inaccurate. the following statement of facts we know to be true, in every material circumstance:--shiels was the principal collector and digester of the materials for the work: but as he was very raw in authourship, an indifferent writer in prose, and his language full of scotticisms, cibber, who was a clever, lively fellow, and then soliciting employment among the booksellers, was engaged to correct the style and diction of the whole work, then intended to make only four volumes, with power to alter, expunge, or add, as he liked. he was also to supply _notes_, occasionally, especially concerning those dramatick poets with whom he had been chiefly conversant. he also engaged to write several of the lives; which, (as we are told,) he, accordingly, performed. he was farther useful in striking out the jacobitical and tory sentiments, which shiels had industriously interspersed wherever he could bring them in:--and, as the success of the work appeared, after all, very doubtful, he was content with twenty-one pounds for his labour beside a few sets of the books, to disperse among his friends.--shiels had nearly seventy pounds, beside the advantage of many of the best lives in the work being communicated by friends to the undertaking; and for which mr. shiels had the same consideration as for the rest, being paid by the sheet, for the whole. he was, however, so angry with his whiggish supervisor, (he, like his father, being a violent stickler for the political principles which prevailed in the reign of george the second,) for so unmercifully mutilating his copy, and scouting his politicks, that he wrote cibber a challenge: but was prevented from sending it, by the publisher, who fairly laughed him out of his fury. the proprietors, too, were discontented, in the end, on account of mr. cibber's unexpected industry; for his corrections and alterations in the proof-sheets were so numerous and considerable, that the printer made for them a grievous addition to his bill; and, in fine, all parties were dissatisfied. on the whole, the work was productive of no profit to the undertakers, who had agreed, in case of success, to make cibber a present of some addition to the twenty guineas which he had received, and for which his receipt is now in the booksellers' hands. we are farther assured, that he actually obtained an additional sum; when he, soon after, (in the year ,) unfortunately embarked for dublin, on an engagement for one of the theatres there: but the ship was cast away, and every person on board perished. there were about sixty passengers, among whom was the earl of drogheda, with many other persons of consequence and property. [_gent. mag_. , p. .] 'as to the alledged design of making the compilement pass for the work of old mr. cibber, the charges seem to have been founded on a somewhat uncharitable construction. we are assured that the thought was not harboured by some of the proprietors, who are still living; and we hope that it did not occur to the first designer of the work, who was also the printer of it, and who bore a respectable character. 'we have been induced to enter thus circumstantially into the foregoing detail of facts relating to _the lives of the poets_, compiled by messrs. cibber and shiels, from a sincere regard to that sacred principle of truth, to which dr. johnson so rigidly adhered, according to the best of his knowledge; and which we believe, _no consideration_ would have prevailed on him to violate. in regard to the matter, which we now dismiss, he had, no doubt, been misled by partial and wrong information: shiels was the doctor's amanuensis; he had quarrelled with cibber; it is natural to suppose that he told his story in his own way; and it is certain that _he_ was not "a very sturdy moralist." [the quotation is from johnson's _works_, ix. .] this explanation appears to me very satisfactory. it is, however, to be observed, that the story told by johnson does not rest solely upon my record of his conversation; for he himself has published it in his _life of hammond_ [_ib_. viii. ], where he says, "the manuscript of shiels is now in my possession." very probably he had trusted to shiels's word, and never looked at it so as to compare it with _the lives of the poets_, as published under mr. cibber's name. what became of that manuscript i know not. i should have liked much to examine it. i suppose it was thrown into the fire in that impetuous combustion of papers, which johnson i think rashly executed, when _moribundus_.' boswell. mr. croker, quoting a letter by griffiths the publisher, says:--'the question is now decided by this letter in opposition to dr. johnson's assertion.' croker's _boswell_, p. . the evidence of such an infamous fellow as griffiths is worthless. (for his character see forster's _goldsmith_, i. .) as the _monthly review_ was his property, the passage quoted by boswell was, no doubt, written by his direction. d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , vi. ) says that oldys (_ante_, i. ) made annotations on a copy of langbaine's _dramatic poets_. 'this _langbaine_, with additions by coxeter, was bought by theophilus cibber; on the strength of these notes he prefixed his name to the first collection of the _lives of our poets_, written chiefly by shiels.' [ ] mason's _memoirs of gray's life_ was published in . johnson, in his _life of gray_ (_works_, viii. ), praises gray's portion of the book:--'they [gray and horace walpole] wandered through france into italy; and gray's _letters_ contain a very pleasing account of many parts of their journey.' 'the style of madame de sévigné,' wrote mackintosh (_life_, ii. ), 'is evidently copied, not only by her worshipper walpole, but even by gray; notwithstanding the extraordinary merits of his matter, he has the double stiffness of an imitator and of a college recluse.' [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] this impartiality is very unlikely. in griffiths, the owner of the _monthly_, aiming a blow at smollett, the editor of the _critical_, said that _the monthly review_ was not written by 'physicians without practice, authors without learning, men without decency, gentlemen without manners, and critics without judgement.' smollett retorted:-- '_the critical review_ is not written by a parcel of obscure hirelings, under the restraint of a bookseller and his wife, who presume to revise, alter, and amend the articles occasionally. the principal writers in the _critical review_ are unconnected with booksellers, un-awed by old women, and independent of each other.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . 'a fourth share in _the monthly review_ was sold in for £ .' _a bookseller of the last century_, p. . [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] horace walpole writes:--'the scope of the _critical review_ was to decry any work that appeared favourable to the principles of the revolution.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] 'the story of this publication is remarkable. the whole book was printed twice over, a great part of it three times, and many sheets four or five times. the booksellers paid for the first impression; but the charges and repeated operations of the press were at the expense of the author, whose ambitious accuracy is known to have cost him at least a thousand pounds. he began to print in . three volumes appeared in , and the conclusion in . andrew reid undertook to persuade lyttelton, as he had persuaded himself, that he was master of the secret of punctuation; and, as fear begets credulity, he was employed, i know not at what price, to point the pages of _henry the second_. when time brought the _history_ to a third edition, reid was either dead or discarded; and the superintendence of typography and punctuation was committed to a man originally a comb-maker, but then known by the style of doctor. something uncommon was probably expected, and something uncommon was at last done; for to the doctor's edition is appended, what the world had hardly seen before, a list of errors in nineteen pages.' johnson's _works_, viii. . in the first edition of _the lives of the poets_ 'the doctor' is called dr. saunders. so ambitious was lord lyttelton's accuracy that in the second edition he gave a list of 'false stops which hurt the sense.' for instance, the punctuation of the following paragraph:--'the words of abbot suger, in his life of lewis le gros, concerning this prince are very remarkable,' he thus corrects, 'after prince a comma is wanting.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] according to horace walpole, lyttelton had angered smollett by declining 'to recommend to the stage' a comedy of his. 'he promised,' walpole continues, 'if it should be acted, to do all the service in his power for the author. smollett's return was drawing an abusive portrait of lord lyttelton in _roderick random.' memoirs of the reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] _spectator_, no. . see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_, near the end. [ ] when steele brought _the spectator_ to the close of its first period, he acknowledged in the final number (no. ) his obligation to his assistants. in a postscript to the later editions he says:--'it had not come to my knowledge, when i left off _the spectator_, that i owe several excellent sentiments and agreeable pieces in this work to mr. ince, of gray's inn.' mr. ince died in . _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] _spectator_, no. . [ ] sir edward barry, baronet. boswell. [ ] 'we form our words with the breath of our nostrils, we have the less to live upon for every word we speak.' jeremy taylor's _holy dying_, ch. i. sec. . [ ] on this day johnson sent the following application for rooms in hampton court to the lord chamberlain:-- 'my lord, being wholly unknown to your lordship, i have only this apology to make for presuming to trouble you with a request, that a stranger's petition, if it cannot be easily granted, can be easily refused. some of the apartments are now vacant in which i am encouraged to hope that by application to your lordship i may obtain a residence. such a grant would be considered by me as a great favour; and i hope that to a man who has had the honour of vindicating his majesty's government, a retreat in one of his houses may not be improperly or unworthily allowed. i therefore request that your lordship will be pleased to grant such rooms in hampton court as shall seem proper to 'my lord, 'your lordship's most obedient and most faithful humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' 'mr. saml. johnson to the earl of hertford, requesting apartments at hampton court, th may, .' and within, a memorandum of the answer:--'lord c. presents his compliments to mr. johnson, and is sorry he cannot obey his commands, having already on his hands many engagements unsatisfied.' prior's _malone_, p. . the endorsement does not, it will be seen, agree in date with the letter. lord c. stands for the lord chamberlain. [ ] hogarth saw garrick in richard iii, and on the following night in abel drugger; he was so struck, that he said to him, 'you are in your element when you are begrimed with dirt, or up to your elbows in blood.' murphy's _garrick_, p. . cooke, in his _memoirs of macklin_, p. , says that a lichfield grocer, who came to london with a letter of introduction to garrick from peter garrick, saw him act abel drugger, and returned without calling on him. he said to peter garrick: 'i saw enough of him on the stage. he may be rich, as i dare say any man who lives like him must be; but by g-d, though he is your brother, mr. garrick, he is one of the shabbiest, meanest, most pitiful hounds i ever saw in the whole course of my life.' abel drugger is a character in ben jonson's _alchemist_. [ ] see _post_, under sept. , . [ ] lord shelburne in , at the age of twenty-nine, was appointed secretary of state in lord chatham's ministry. fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, ii. . jeremy bentham said of him:--'his head was not clear. he felt the want of clearness. he had had a most wretched education.' _ib_. p. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale on aug. , :--'i hope you have no design of stealing away to italy before the election, nor of leaving me behind you; though i am not only seventy, but seventy-one.... but what if i am seventy-two; i remember sulpitius says of saint martin (now that's above your reading), _est animus victor annorum et senectuti cedere nescius_. match me that among your young folks.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] lady hesketh, taking up apparently a thought which paoli, as reported by boswell, had thrown out in conversation, proposed to cowper the mediterranean for a topic. 'he replied, "unless i were a better historian than i am, there would be no proportion between the theme and my ability. it seems, indeed, not to be so properly a subject for one poem, as for a dozen."' southey's _cowper_, iii. , and vii. . [ ] burke said:--'i do not know how it has happened, that orators have hitherto fared worse in the hands of the translators than even the poets; i never could bear to read a translation of cicero.' _life of sir w. jones_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, under date of dec. , , where mention seems to be made of this evening. [ ] see _ante_, note, p. . boswell [ ] 'thomson's diction is in the highest degree florid and luxuriant, such as may be said to be to his images and thoughts "both their lustre and their shade;" such as invest them with splendour, through which, perhaps, they are not always easily discerned.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] _a collection of poems in six volumes by several hands_, . [ ] _ib_. i. . [ ] mr. nicholls says, '_the spleen_ was a great favourite with gray for its wit and originality.' gray's _works_, v. . see _post_, oct. , , where johnson quotes two lines from it. 'fling but a stone, the giant dies,' is another line that is not unknown. [ ] a noted highwayman, who after having been several times tried and acquitted, was at last hanged. he was remarkable for foppery in his dress, and particularly for wearing a bunch of sixteen strings at the knees of his breeches. boswell. [ ] goldsmith wrote a prologue for it. horace walpole wrote on dec. , (_letters_, v. ):--'there is a new tragedy at covent garden called _zobeide_, which i am told is very indifferent, though written by a country gentleman.' cradock in his old age published his own _memoirs_. [ ] '"dr. farmer," said johnson {speaking of this essay}, "you have done that which never was done before; that is, you have completely finished a controversy beyond all further doubt." "there are some critics," answered farmer, "who will adhere to their old opinions." "ah!" said johnson, "that may be true; for the limbs will quiver and move when the soul is gone."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . farmer was master of emanuel college, cambridge (_ante_, i. ). in a letter dated oct. , , published in romilly's _life_ (i. ), it is said:--'shakespeare and black letter muster strong at emanuel.' [ ] 'when johnson once glanced at this _liberal translation of the new testament_, and saw how dr. harwood had turned _jesus wept_ into _jesus, the saviour of the world, burst into a flood of tears_, he contemptuously threw the book aside, exclaiming, "puppy!" the author, dr. edward harwood, is not to be confounded with dr. thomas harwood, the historian of lichfield.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] see an ingenious essay on this subject by the late dr. moor, greek professor at glasgow. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'oh that my words were now written! oh that they were printed in a book!' _job_ xix. . [ ] 'the gradual progress which iago makes in the moor's conviction, and the circumstances which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps not be said of him as he says of himself, that he is "a man not easily jealous," yet we cannot but pity him, when at last we find him "perplexed in the extreme."' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] of dennis's criticism of addison's _cato_, he says:--'he found and shewed many faults; he shewed them indeed with anger, but he found them with acuteness, such as ought to rescue his criticism from oblivion.' _ib_. vii. . in a note on 'thunder rumbling from the mustard-bowl' (the _dunciad_, ii. ) it is said:--'whether mr. dennis was the inventor of that improvement, i know not; but is certain that, being once at a tragedy of a new author, he fell into a great passion at hearing some, and cried, "s'death! that is _my_ thunder."' see d'israeli's _calamities of authors_, i. , for an amplification of this story. [ ] sir james mackintosh thought cumberland was meant. i am now satisfied that it was arthur murphy. croker. the fact that murphy's name is found close to the story renders it more likely that mr. croker is right. [ ] 'obscenity and impiety,' johnson boasted in the last year of his life, 'have always been repressed in my company.' _post_, june , . see also _post_, sept. , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _ib_. aug. . [ ] see _post_, april , , . [ ] see _ante_, jan. , , note. [ ] see _post_, april , . that he did not always scorn to drink when in company is shewn by what he said on april , :--'i have drunk three bottles of port without being the worse for it. university college has witnessed this.' [ ] _copy_ is _manuscript for printing_. [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , he describes how he had sat deliberating on the subject for that day's paper, 'till at last i was awakened from this dream of study by a summons from the press; the time was now come for which i had been thus negligently purposing to provide, and, however dubious or sluggish, i was now necessitated to write. to a writer whose design is so comprehensive and miscellaneous that he may accommodate himself with a topick from every scene of life, or view of nature, it is no great aggravation of his task to be obliged to a sudden composition.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] we have here an involuntary testimony to the excellence of this admirable writer, to whom we have seen that dr. johnson _directly_ allowed so little merit. boswell. 'fielding's amelia was the most pleasing heroine of all the romances,' he said; 'but that vile broken nose never cured [_amelia_, bk. ii. ch. ] ruined the sale of perhaps the only book, which being printed off betimes one morning, a new edition was called for before night.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . mrs. carter, soon after the publication of _amelia_, wrote (_corres_. ii. ):--'methinks i long to engage you on the side of this poor unfortunate book, which i am told the fine folks are unanimous in pronouncing to be very sad stuff.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] horace walpole wrote, on dec, , (_letters_, vi. ):-- 'mr. cumberland has written an _ode_, as he modestly calls it, in praise of gray's _odes_; charitably no doubt to make the latter taken notice of. garrick read it the other night at mr. beauclerk's, who comprehended so little what it was about, that he desired garrick to read it backwards, and try if it would not be equally good; he did, and it was.' it was to this reading backwards that dean barnard alludes in his verses-- 'the art of pleasing, teach me, garrick; thou who reversest odes pindaric, a second time read o'er.' see _post_, under may , . [ ] mr. romney, the painter, who has now deservedly established a high reputation. boswell. cumberland (_memoirs_, i. ) dedicated his _odes_ to him, shortly after 'he had returned from pursuing his studies at rome.' 'a curious work might be written,' says mr. croker, 'on the reputation of painters. hayley dedicated his lyre (such as it was) to romney. what is a picture of romney now worth?' the wheel is come full circle, and mr. croker's note is as curious as the work that he suggests. [ ] page of this vol. boswell. [ ] thurlow. [ ] wedderburne. boswell wrote to temple on may :--'luckily dr. taylor has begged of dr. johnson to come to london, to assist him in some interesting business, and johnson loves much to be so consulted and so comes up.' _letters of boswell_, p. . on the th johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'mr. wedderburne has given his opinion today directly against us. he thinks of the claim much as i think.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in _notes and queries_, th s., v. , in a letter from johnson to taylor, this business is mentioned. [ ] goldsmith wrote in :--'upon a stranger's arrival at bath he is welcomed by a peal of the abbey bells, and in the next place by the voice and music of the city waits.' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. . in _humphry clinker_ (published in ), in the letter of april , we read that there was 'a peal of the abbey bells for the honour of mr. bullock, an eminent cow-keeper of tottenham, who had just arrived at bath to drink the waters for indigestion.' the town waits are also mentioned. the season was not far from its close when boswell arrived. melford, in _humphry clinker_, wrote from bath on may :--'the music and entertainments of bath are over for this season; and all our gay birds of passage have taken their flight to bristol-well [clifton], tunbridge, brighthelmstone, scarborough, harrowgate, &c. not a soul is seen in this place, but a few broken-winded parsons, waddling like so many crows along the north parade.' boswell had soon to return to london 'to eat commons in the inner temple.' delighted with bath, and apparently pleasing himself with the thought of a brilliant career at the bar, he wrote to temple, 'quin said, "bath was the cradle of age, and a fine slope to the grave." were i a baron of the exchequer and you a dean, how well could we pass some time there!' _letters of boswell_, pp. , . [ ] to the rooms! and their only son dead three days over one month! 'that it should come to this! but two months dead: nay, not so much, not two.' _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] no doubt mr. burke. see _ante_, april , , and under oct. , , note, and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] mr. e.j. payne, criticising this passage, says:--'it is certain that burke never thought he was deserting any principle of his own in joining the rockinghams.' payne's _burke_, i. xvii. [ ] no doubt mrs. macaulay. see _ante_, i. . 'being asked whether he had read mrs. macaulay's second volume of the _history of england_, "no, sir," says he, "nor her first neither."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] 'of this distinguished epilogue the reputed author was the wretched budgel, whom addison used to denominate "the man who calls me cousin" [spence's _anecdotes_, ed. , p. ]; and when he was asked how such a silly fellow could write so well, replied, "the epilogue was quite another thing when i saw it first." [_ib_. p. .] it was known in tonson's family, and told to garrick, that addison was himself the author of it, and that, when it had been at first printed with his name, he came early in the morning, before the copies were distributed, and ordered it to be given to budgel, that it might add weight to the solicitation which he was then making for a place.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, jan. , . [ ] on may , , on which day the new parliament met, a great body of people gathered round the king's bench prison in st. george's fields in expectation that wilkes would go thence to the house of commons. some kind of a riot arose, a proclamation was made in the terms of the riot-act, and the soldiers firing by order of justice gillam, killed five or six on the spot. the justice and one of the soldiers were on the coroner's inquest brought in guilty of wilful murder, and two other soldiers of aiding and abetting therein. with great difficulty the prisoners were saved from the rage of the populace. they were all acquitted however. at gillam's trial the judge ruled in his favour, so that the case did not go to the jury. of the trial of one of the soldiers 'no account was allowed to be published by authority.' _ann. reg_. , pp. - , , - , . professor dicey (_law of the constitution_, p. ) points out that 'the position of a soldier may be both in theory and practice, a difficult one. he may, as it has been well said, be liable to be shot by a court-martial if he disobeys an order, and to be hanged by a judge and jury if he obeys it.' the remembrance of these cases was perhaps the cause of the feebleness shewn in the gordon riots in june . dr. franklin wrote from london on may , (_memoirs_, iii. ):--'even this capital is now a daily scene of lawless riot. mobs patrolling the streets at noon-day, some knocking all down that will not roar for wilkes and liberty; courts of justice afraid to give judgment against him; coal-heavers and porters pulling down the houses of coal-merchants that refuse to give them more wages; sawyers destroying saw-mills; sailors unrigging all the outward-bound ships, and suffering none to sail till merchants agree to raise their pay; watermen destroying private boats, and threatening bridges; soldiers firing among the mobs and killing men, women, and children.' 'while i am writing,' he adds (_ib_. p. ), 'a great mob of coal-porters fill the street, carrying a wretch of their business upon poles to be ducked for working at the old wages.' see also _ib_. p. . hume agreed with johnson about the 'imbecility' of the government; but he drew from it different conclusions. he wrote on oct. , , about the addresses to the king:--'i wish they would advise him first to punish those insolent rascals in london and middlesex, who daily insult him and the whole legislature, before he thinks of america. ask him, how he can expect that a form of government will maintain an authority at miles' distance, when it cannot make itself be respected, or even be treated with common decency, at home.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . on the th of this month of april--four days after the conversation in the text--john home recorded:--'mr. hume cannot give any reason for the incapacity and want of genius, civil and military, which marks this period.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _dr. johnson, his friends, &c_., p. . [ ] it was published in . [ ] i am sorry that there are no memoirs of the reverend robert blair, the author of this poem. he was the representative of the ancient family of blair, of blair, in ayrshire, but the estate had descended to a female, and afterwards passed to the son of her husband by another marriage. he was minister of the parish of athelstanford, where mr. john home was his successor; so that it may truely be called classick ground. his son, who is of the same name, and a man eminent for talents and learning, is now, with universal approbation, solicitor-general of scotland. boswell. dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) describes blair 'as so austere and void of urbanity as to make him quite disagreeable to young people.' [ ] in mrs. montagu gave mrs. williams a small annuity. croker's _boswell_, pp. , . miss burney wrote of her:--'allowing a little for parade and ostentation, which her power in wealth and rank in literature offer some excuse for, her conversation is very agreeable.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _post_, april , , note. [ ] 'let humble allen, with an awkward shame, do good by stealth, and blush to find it fame.' pope, _sat. ep_. i. . [ ] johnson refers to jenyns's _view of the internal evidence of the christian religion_, published this spring. see _post_, april , . jenyns had changed his view, for in his _origin of evil_ he said, in a passage quoted with applause by johnson (_works_, vi. ), that 'it is observable that he who best knows our formation has trusted no one thing of importance to our reason or virtue; he trusts to our vanity or compassion for our bounty to others.' [ ] mr. langton is certainly meant. it is strange how often his mode of living was discussed by johnson and boswell. see _post_, nov. , , july , and sept. , , march , april , , and , may , and july , . [ ] baretti made a brutal attack on mrs. piozzi in the _european mag_. for , xiii. , , and xiv. . he calls her 'the frontless female, who goes now by the mean appellation of piozzi; la piozzi, as my fiddling countrymen term her; who has dwindled down into the contemptible wife of her daughter's singing-master.' his excuse was the attacks made on him by her in the correspondence just published between herself and johnson (see _piozzi letters_, i. , ). he suspected her, and perhaps with reason, of altering some of these letters. other writers beside baretti attacked her. to use lord macaulay's words, grossly exaggerated though they are, 'she fled from the laughter and hisses of her countrymen and countrywomen to a land where she was unknown.' macaulay's _writings and speeches_, ed. , p. . according to dr. t. campbell (_diary_, p. ) baretti flattered mrs. thrale to her face. 'talking as we were at tea of the magnitude of the beer vessels, baretti said there was one thing in mr. thrale's house still more extraordinary; meaning his wife. she gulped the pill very prettily--so much for baretti.' see _post_, dec. , . [ ] likely enough boswell himself. on three other occasions he mentions otaheité; _ante_, may , , _post_, june , and in his _hebrides_, sept. , . he was fond of praising savage life. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] chatterton said that he had found in a chest in st. mary redcliffe church manuscript poems by canynge, a merchant of bristol in the fifteenth century, and a friend of his, thomas rowley. he gave some of these manuscripts to george catcot, a pewterer of bristol, who communicated them to mr. barret, who was writing a history of bristol. rose's _biog. dict_. vi. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'artificially. artfully; with skill.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] mr. tyrwhitt, mr. warton, mr. malone. boswell. johnson wrote on may :--'steevens seems to be connected with tyrwhitt in publishing chatterton's poems; he came very anxiously to know the result of our inquiries, and though he says he always thought them forged, is not well pleased to find us so fully convinced.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] catcot had been anticipated by smith the weaver ( _henry vi_. iv. )--'sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not.' [ ] horace walpole says (_works_, iv. ) that when he was 'dining at the royal academy, dr. goldsmith drew the attention of the company with an account of a marvellous treasure of ancient poems lately discovered at bristol, and expressed enthusiastic belief in them; for which he was laughed at by dr. johnson, who was present.... you may imagine we did not at all agree in the measure of our faith; but though his credulity diverted me, my mirth was soon dashed; for, on asking about chatterton, he told me he had been in london, and had destroyed himself.' [ ] boswell returned a few days earlier. on may he wrote to temple: --'luckily dr. taylor has begged of dr. johnson to come to london, to assist him in some interesting business; and johnson loves much to be so consulted, and so comes up. i am now at general paoli's, quite easy and gay, after my journey; not wearied in body or dissipated in mind. i have lodgings in gerrard street, where cards are left to me; but i lie at the general's, whose attention to me is beautiful.' _letters of boswell_, p. . johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on may :--'tomorrow i am to dine, as i did yesterday, with dr. taylor. on wednesday i am to dine with oglethorpe; and on thursday with paoli. he that sees before him to his third dinner has a long prospect.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] in the _dramatis personæ_ of the play are 'aimwell and archer, two gentlemen of broken fortunes, the first as master, and the second as servant.' see _ante_, march , , for garrick's opinion of johnson's 'taste in theatrical merit.' [ ] johnson is speaking of the _respublicæ elzevirianæ_, either or volumes. 'it depends on every collector what and how much he will admit.' ebert's _bibl. dict_. iii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, under oct. , , for 'the learned pig.' [ ] in the first edition mme. de sévigné's name is printed sevigné, in the second sevigé, in the third sevigne. authors and compositors last century troubled themselves little about french words. [ ] milton had put the same complaint into adam's mouth:-- 'did i request thee, maker, from my clay to mould me man? ... ... as my will concurred not to my being,' &c. _paradise lost_, x. . [ ] see _ante_, april , . [ ] fielding in the _covent garden journal_ for june , (_works_, x. ), says of the difficulty of admission at the hospitals:--'the properest objects (those i mean who are most wretched and friendless) may as well aspire at a place at court as at a place in the hospital.' [ ] 'we were talking of dr. barnard, the provost of eton. "he was the only man," says mr. johnson quite seriously, "that did justice to my good breeding; and you may observe that i am well-bred to a degree of needless scrupulosity. no man," continued he, not observing the amazement of his hearers, "no man is so cautious not to interrupt another; no man thinks it so necessary to appear attentive when others are speaking; no man so steadily refuses preference on himself, or so willingly bestows it on another, as i do; no man holds so strongly as i do the necessity of ceremony, and the ill effects which follow the breach of it; yet people think me rude; but barnard did me justice."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . on p. , mrs. piozzi writes:--'no one was indeed so attentive not to offend in all such sort of things as dr. johnson; nor so careful to maintain the ceremonies of life; and though he told mr. thrale once, that he had never sought to please till past thirty years old, considering the matter as hopeless, he had been always studious not to make enemies by apparent preference of himself.' see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , , where johnson said:--'sir, i look upon myself as a very polite man.' [ ] the younger colman in his boyhood met johnson and gibbon. 'johnson was in his rusty brown and his black worsteds, and gibbon in a suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword. he condescended, once or twice in the course of the evening, to talk with me;--the great historian was light and playful, suiting his matter to the capacity of the boy; but it was done more sua [sic]; still his mannerism prevailed; still he tapped his snuff-box; still he smirked, and smiled, and rounded his periods with the same air of good-breeding, as if he were conversing with men. his mouth, mellifluous as plato's, was a round hole, nearly in the centre of his visage.' _random records_, i. . [ ] samuel sharp's _letters from italy_ were published in . see _ante_, ii. , note , for baretti's reply to them. [ ] it may be observed, that mr. malone, in his very valuable edition of shakspeare, has fully vindicated dr. johnson from the idle censures which the first of these notes has given rise to. the interpretation of the other passage, which dr. johnson allows to be _disputable_, he has clearly shown to be erroneous. boswell. the first note is on the line in _hamlet_, act v. sc. -- 'and many such like as's of great charge.' johnson says:--'a quibble is intended between _as_ the conditional particle, and _ass_ the beast of burthen.' on this note steevens remarked:--'shakespeare has so many quibbles of his own to answer for, that there are those who think it hard he should be charged with others which perhaps he never thought of.' the second note is on the opening of hamlet's soliloquy in act iii. sc. i. the line-- 'to be, or not to be, that is the question,' is thus paraphrased by johnson:--'before i can form any rational scheme of action under this pressure of distress, it is necessary to decide whether, after our present state, we are to be or not to be.' [ ] see _post_, march , april and , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] wesley wrote on jan. , (_journal_, iii. ):--'i had a conversation with an ingenious man who proved to a demonstration that it was the duty of every man that could to be "clothed in purple and fine linen," and to "fare sumptuously every day;" and that he would do abundantly more good hereby than he could do by "feeding the hungry and clothing the naked." o the depth of human understanding! what may not a man believe if he will?' much the same argument johnson, thirty-three years earlier, had introduced in one of his _debates_ (_works_, xi. ). he makes one of the speakers say:--'our expenses are not all equally destructive; some, though the method of raising them be vexatious and oppressive, do not much impoverish the nation, because they are refunded by the extravagance and luxury of those who are retained in the pay of the court.' see _post_, march , . the whole argument is nothing but mandeville's doctrine of 'private vices, public benefits.' see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson no doubt refers to walpole in the following passage (_works_, viii. l ):--'of one particular person, who has been at one time so popular as to be generally esteemed, and at another so formidable as to be universally detested, mr. savage observed that his acquisitions had been small, or that his capacity was narrow, and that the whole range of his mind was from obscenity to politicks, and from politicks to obscenity.' this passage is a curious comment on pope's lines on sir robert-- 'seen him i have, but in his happier hour of social pleasure, ill-exchanged for power.' _epilogue to the satires_, i. . [ ] most likely boswell himself. see _ante_, march , , and _post_, april , , for johnson's dislike of questioning. see also _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] a gallicism, which has it appears, with so many others, become vernacular in scotland. the french call a pulpit, _la chaire de vérité_. croker. [ ] as a proof of dr. johnson's extraordinary powers of composition, it appears from the original manuscript of this excellent dissertation, of which he dictated the first eight paragraphs on the th of may, and the remainder on the th, that there are in the whole only seven corrections, or rather variations, and those not considerable. such were at once the vigorous and accurate emanations of his mind. boswell. [ ] it is curious to observe that lord thurlow has here, perhaps in compliment to north britain, made use of a term of the scotch law, which to an english reader may require explanation. to _qualify_ a wrong, is to point out and establish it. boswell. [ ] 'quaeque ipse miserrima vidi, et quorum pars magna fui.' 'which thing myself unhappy did behold, yea, and was no small part thereof.' morris, _aeneids_, ii. . [ ] in the year , in _the false alarm_, johnson attacked wilkes with more than 'some asperity.' 'the character of the man,' he wrote, 'i have no purpose to delineate. lampoon itself would disdain to speak ill of him, of whom no man speaks well.' he called him 'a retailer of sedition and obscenity;' and he said:--'we are now disputing ... whether middlesex shall be represented, or not, by a criminal from a gaol.' _works_, vi. , , . in _the north briton_, no. xii, wilkes, quoting johnson's definition of a pensioner, asks:--'is the said mr. johnson a _dependant_? or is he _a slave of state, hired by a stipend to obey his master_? there is, according to him, no alternative.--as mr. johnson has, i think, failed in this account, may i, after so great an authority, venture at a short definition of so intricate a word? a _pension_ then i would call _a gratuity during the pleasure of the prince for services performed, or expected to be performed, to himself, or to the state_. let us consider the celebrated mr. _johnson_, and a few other late pensioners in this light.' [ ] boswell, in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ), mentions 'my old classical companion, wilkes;' and adds, 'with whom i pray you to excuse my keeping company, he is so pleasant.' [ ] when johnson was going to auchinleck, boswell begged him, in talking with his father, 'to avoid three topicks as to which they differed very widely; whiggism, presbyterianism, and--sir john pringle.' boswell's _hebrides_, nov , . see also _ib_. aug . 'pringle was president of the royal society--"who sat in newton's chair, and wonder'd how the devil he got there."' j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . he was one of franklin's friends (franklin's _memoirs_ iii. iii), and so was likely to be uncongenial to johnson. [ ] no . croker. at this house 'johnson owned that he always found a good dinner.' _post_, april , . [ ] this has been circulated as if actually said by johnson; when the truth is, it was only _supposed_ by me. boswell. [ ] 'don't let them be _patriots_,' he said to mr. hoole, when he asked him to collect a city club. _post_, april , . [ ] see p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] 'indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.' addison's _cato_, act v. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] he was at this time 'employed by congress as a private and confidential agent in england.' dr. franklin had arranged for letters to be sent to him, not by post but by private hand, under cover to his brother, mr. alderman lee. franklin's _memoirs_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] when wilkes the year before, during his mayoralty, had presented an address, 'the king himself owned he had never seen so well-bred a lord mayor.' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] johnson's _london, a poem_, v. . boswell-- 'how when competitors like these contend, can surly virtue hope to fix a friend.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson had said much the same at a dinner in edinburgh. see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . see _ante_, march , , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] 'to convince any man against his will is hard, but to please him against his will is justly pronounced by dryden to be above the reach of human abilities.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] foote told me that johnson said of him, 'for loud obstreperous broadfaced mirth, i know not his equal.' boswell. [ ] in farquhar's _beaux-stratagem_, scrub thus describes his duties: --'of a monday i drive the coach, of a tuesday i drive the plough, on wednesday i follow the hounds, a thursday i dun the tenants, on friday i go to market, on saturday i draw warrants, and a sunday i draw beer.' act iii. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _post_, april , , and april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] dryden had been dead but thirty-six years when johnson came to london. [ ] 'owen macswinny, a buffoon; formerly director of the play-house.' horace walpole, _letters_, i. . walpole records one of his puns. 'old horace' had left the house of commons to fight a duel, and at once 'returned, and was so little moved as to speak immediately upon the _cambrick bill_, which made swinny say, "that it was a sign he was not _ruffled_."' _ib_. p. . see also, _ib_. vi. for one of his stories. [ ] a more amusing version of the story, is in _johnsoniana_ (ed. , p. ) on the authority of mr. fowke. '"so sir," said johnson to cibber, "i find you know [knew?] mr. dryden?" "know him? o lord! i was as well acquainted with him as if he had been my own brother." "then you can tell me some anecdotes of him?" "o yes, a thousand! why we used to meet him continually at a club at button's. i remember as well as if it were but yesterday, that when he came into the room in winter time, he used to go and sit by the fire in one corner; and in summer time he would always go and sit in the window." "thus, sir," said johnson, "what with the corner of the fire in winter and the window in summer, you see that i got _much_ information from cibber of the manners and habits of dryden.'" johnson gives, in his _life of dryden_ (_works_, vii. ), the information that he got from swinney and cibber. dr. warton, who had written on pope, found in one of the poet's female-cousins a still more ignorant survivor. 'he had been taught to believe that she could furnish him with valuable information. incited by all that eagerness which characterised him, he sat close to her, and enquired her consanguinity to pope. "pray, sir," said she, "did not you write a book about my cousin pope?" "yes, madam." "they tell me t'was vastly clever. he wrote a great many plays, did not he?" "i have heard of only one attempt, madam." "oh no, i beg your pardon; that was mr. shakespeare; i always confound them."' wooll's _warton_, p. . [ ] johnson told malone that 'cibber was much more ignorant even of matters relating to his own profession than he could well have conceived any man to be who had lived nearly sixty years with players, authors, and the most celebrated characters of the age.' prior's _malone_, p. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'there are few,' wrote goldsmith, 'who do not prefer a page of montaigne or colley cibber, who candidly tell us what they thought of the world, and the world thought of them, to the more stately memoirs and transactions of europe.' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. . [ ] _essay on criticism_, i. . [ ] 'cibber wrote as bad odes (as garrick), but then gibber wrote _the careless husband_, and his own _life_, which both deserve immortality.' walpole's _letters_, v. . pope (_imitations of horace_, ii. i. ), says:-- 'all this may be; the people's voice is odd, it is, and it is not, the voice of god. to gammer gurton if it give the bays, and yet deny _the careless husband_ praise, or say our fathers never broke a rule; why then, i say, the public is a fool.' see _ante_, april , . [ ] see page of vol. i. boswell. [ ] milton's _l'allegro_, . . [ ] 'catesby. my liege, the duke of buckingham is taken. richard. off with his head. so much for buckingham.' colley gibber's _richard iii_, iv. i. [ ] _ars poetica, i. . [ ] my very pleasant friend himself, as well as others _who remember old stories_, will no doubt be surprised, when i observe that _john wilkes_ here shews himself to be of the warburtonian school. it is nevertheless true, as appears from dr. hurd the bishop of worcester's very elegant commentary and notes on the '_epistola ad pisones_.' it is necessary to a fair consideration of the question, that the whole passage in which the words occur should be kept in view: 'si quid inexpertum scenae committis, et audes personam formare novam, servetur ad imum qualis ab incepto processerit, et sibi constet. difficile est propriè communia dicere: tuque rectiùs iliacum carmen deducis in actus, quàm si proferres ignota indictaque primus, publica materies privati juris erit, si non circa vilem patulumque moraberis orbem, nec verbum verbo curabis reddere fidus interpres; nee desilies imitator in artum unde pedem proferre pudor vetat aut operis lex.' the 'commentary' thus illustrates it: 'but the formation of quite _new characters_ is a work of great difficulty and hazard. for here there is no generally received and fixed _archetype_ to work after, but every one _judges_ of common right, according to the extent and comprehension of his own idea; therefore he advises to labour and refit _old characters and subjects_, particularly those made known and authorised by the practice of homer and the epick writers.' the 'note' is, '_difficile_ est proprie communia dicere.' lambin's comment is, '_communia hoc loco appellat horatius argumenta fabularum à nullo adhuc tractata: et ita, quae cuivis exposita sunt et in medio quodammodo posita, quasi vacua et à nemine occupata_.' and that this is the true meaning of _communia_ is evidently fixed by the words _ignota indictaque_, which are explanatory of it; so that the sense given it in the commentary is unquestionably the right one. yet, notwithstanding the clearness of the case, a late critick has this strange passage: '_difficile quidem esse propriè communia dicere, hoc est, materiam vulgarem, notam et è medio petitam, ita immutare atque exornare, ut nova et scriptori propria videatur, ultra concedimus; et maximi procul dubio ponderis ista est observatio. sed omnibus utrinque collatis, et tum difficilis, tum venusti, tam judicii quam ingenii ratione habitá, major videtur esse gloria fabulam formare penitùs novam, quàm veterem, utcunque mutatam, de novo exhibere_. (poet. prael. v. ii. p. .) where, having first put a wrong construction on the word _comnmnia_, he employs it to introduce an impertinent criticism. for where does the poet prefer the glory of refitting _old_ subjects to that of inventing new ones? the contrary is implied in what he urges about the superiour difficulty of the latter, from which he dissuades his countrymen, only in respect of their abilities and inexperience in these matters; and in order to cultivate in them, which is the main view of the epistle, a spirit of correctness, by sending them to the old subjects, treated by the greek writers.' for my own part (with all deference for dr. hurd, who thinks the _case clear_,) i consider the passage, '_difficile est propriè communia dicere_,' to be a _crux_ for the criticks on horace. the explication which my lord of worcester treats with so much contempt, is nevertheless countenanced by authority which i find quoted by the learned baxter in his edition of horace: '_difficile est propriè communia dicere_, h.e. res vulgares disertis verbis enarrare, vel humile thema cum dignitate tractare. _difficile est communes res propriis explicare verbis_. vet. schol.' i was much disappointed to find that the great critick, dr. bentley, has no note upon this very difficult passage, as from his vigorous and illuminated mind i should have expected to receive more satisfaction than i have yet had. _sanadon_ thus treats of it: '_propriè communia dicere; c'est à dire, qu'il n'est pas aisé de former à ces personnages d'imagination, des caractêres particuliers et cependant vraisemblables. comme l'on a eté le maitre de les former tels qu'on a voulu, les fautes que l'on fait en cela sont moins pardonnables. c'est pourquoi horace conseille de prendre toujours des sujets connus tels que sont par exemple ceux que l'on peut tirer des poèmes d'homere_.' and _dacier_ observes upon it, '_apres avoir marqué les deux qualités qu'il faut donner aux personnages qu'on invente, il conseille aux poêtes tragiques, de n'user pas trop facilement de cette liberté quils ont d'en inventer, car il est três difficile de reussir dans ces nouveaux caractêres. il est mal aisé, dit horace_, de traiter proprement, _c'st à dire_ convenablement, _des_ sujets communs; _c'est à dire, des sujets inventés, et qui n'ont aucun fondement ni dans l'histoire ni dans la fable; et il les appelle_ communs, _parce qu'ils sont en disposition à tout le monde, et que tout le monde a le droit de les inventer, et qu'ils sont, comme on dit, au premier occupant_.' see his observations at large on this expression and the following. after all, i cannot help entertaining some doubt whether the words, _difficile est propriè communia dicere_, may not have been thrown in by horace to form a _separate_ article in a 'choice of difficulties' which a poet has to encounter, who chooses a new subject; in which case it must be uncertain which of the various explanations is the true one, and every reader has a right to decide as it may strike his own fancy. and even should the words be understood as they generally are, to be connected both with what goes before and what comes after, the exact sense cannot be absolutely ascertained; for instance, whether _propriè_ is meant to signify _in an appropriated manner_, as dr. johnson here understands it, or, as it is often used by cicero, _with propriety_, or _elegantly_. in short, it is a rare instance of a defect in perspicuity in an admirable writer, who with almost every species of excellence, is peculiarly remarkable for that quality. the length of this note perhaps requires an apology. many of my readers, i doubt not, will admit that a critical discussion of a passage in a favourite classick is very engaging. boswell. boswell's french in this tedious note is left as he printed it. [ ] johnson, after describing settle's attack on dryden, continues (_works_, vii. ):--'such are the revolutions of fame, or such is the prevalence of fashion, that the man whose works have not yet been thought to deserve the care of collecting them, who died forgotten in an hospital, and whose latter years were spent in contriving shows for fairs ... might with truth have had inscribed upon his stone:-- "here lies the rival and antagonist of dryden."' pope introduces him in _the dunciad_, i. , in the description of the lord mayor's show:-- 'pomps without guilt, of bloodless swords and maces, glad chains, warm furs, broad banners and broad faces. now night descending the proud scene was o'er, but lived in settle's numbers one day more.' in the third book the ghost of settle acts the part of guide in the elysian shade. [ ] johnson implies, no doubt, that they were both americans by birth. trecothick was in the american trade, but he was not an american. walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. , note. of beckford walpole says:--'under a jovial style of good humour he was tyrannic in jamaica, his native country.' _ib_. iv. . he came over to england when young and was educated in westminster school. stephens's _horne tooke_, ii. . cowper describes 'a jocular altercation that passed when i was once in the gallery [of the house], between mr. rigby and the late alderman beckford. the latter was a very incorrect speaker, and the former, i imagine, not a very accurate scholar. he ventured, however, upon a quotation from terence, and delivered it thus, _sine scelere et baccho friget venus_. the alderman interrupted him, was very severe upon his mistake, and restored ceres to her place in the sentence. mr. rigby replied, that he was obliged to his worthy friend for teaching him latin, and would take the first opportunity to return the favour by teaching him english.' southey's _cowper_, iii. . lord chatham, in the house of lords, said of trecothick:--'i do not know in office a more upright magistrate, nor in private life a worthier man.' _parl. hist_. xvi. . see _post_, sept. , . [ ] 'oft have i heard thee mourn the wretched lot of the poor, mean, despised, insulted scot, who, might calm reason credit idle tales, by rancour forged where prejudice prevails, or starves at home, or practises through fear of starving arts which damn all conscience here.' churchill's _prophecy of famine, poems_, i. . [ ] for johnson's praise of lichfield see _ante_, march , . for the use of the word _civility_, see _ante_ ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, april , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] it would not become me to expatiate on this strong and pointed remark, in which a very great deal of meaning is condensed. boswell. [ ] 'mr. wilkes's second political essay was an ironical dedication to the earl of bute of ben jonson's play, _the fall of mortimer_. "let me entreat your lordship," he wrote, "to assist your friend [mr. murphy] in perfecting the weak scenes of this tragedy, and from the crude labours of ben jonson and others to give us a _complete play_. it is the warmest wish of my heart that the earl of bute may speedily complete the story of roger mortimer."' almon's _wilkes_, i. , . [ ] yet wilkes within less than a year violently attacked johnson in parliament. he said, 'the two famous doctors, shebbeare and johnson, are in this reign the state hirelings called pensioners.' their names, he continued, 'disgraced the civil list. they are the known pensioned advocates of despotism.' _parl. hist_. xix. . it is curious that boswell does not mention this attack, and that johnson a few months after it was made, speaking of himself and wilkes, said:--'the contest is now over.' _post_, sept , . [ ] the next day he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'for my part, i begin to settle and keep company with grave aldermen. i dined yesterday in the poultry with mr. alderman wilkes, and mr. alderman lee, and counsellor lee, his brother. there sat you the while, so sober, with your w----'s and your h----'s, and my aunt and her turnspit; and when they are gone, you think by chance on johnson, what is he doing? what should he be doing? he is breaking jokes with jack wilkes upon the scots. such, madam, are the vicissitudes of things.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, march , . [ ] if he had said this on a former occasion to a lady, he said it also on a latter occasion to a gentleman--mr. spottiswoode. _post_, april , . moreover, miss burney records in , that when johnson was telling about bet flint (_post_, may , ) and other strange characters whom he had known, 'mrs. thrale said, "i wonder, sir, you never went to see mrs. rudd among the rest." "why, madam, i believe i should," said he, "if it was not for the newspapers; but i am prevented many frolics that i should like very well, since i am become such a theme for the papers."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] pope, _essay on man_, ii. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on may (tuesday):--'----goes away on thursday, very well satisfied with his journey. some great men have promised to obtain him a place, and then a fig for my father and his new wife.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he is writing no doubt of boswell; yet, as lord auchinleck had been married more than six years, it is odd his wife should be called _new_. boswell, a year earlier, wrote to temple of his hopes from lord pembroke:--'how happy should i be to get an independency by my own influence while my father is alive!' _letters of boswell_, p. . johnson, in a second letter to mrs. thrale, written two days after boswell left, says:--'b---- went away on thursday night, with no great inclination to travel northward; but who can contend with destiny? ... he carries with him two or three good resolutions; i hope they will not mould upon the road.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] _corinthians_, xiii. . [ ] this passage, which is found in act iii, is not in the acting copy of _douglas_. [ ] malone was one of these gentlemen. see _post_, under june , . reynolds, after saying that eagerness for victory often led johnson into acts of rudeness, while 'he was not thus strenuous for victory with his intimates in tête-à-tête conversations when there were no witnesses,' adds:--'were i to write the life of dr. johnson i would labour this point, to separate his conduct that proceeded from his passions, and what proceeded from his reason, from his natural disposition seen in his quiet hours.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] these words must have been in the other copy. they are not in that which was preferred. boswell. [ ] on june he wrote that he was suffering from 'a very serious and troublesome fit of the gout. i enjoy all the dignity of lameness. i receive ladies and dismiss them sitting. _painful pre-eminence_.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'painful pre-eminence' comes from addison's _cato_, act iii. sc. . pope, in his _essay on man_, iv. , borrows the phrase:-- 'painful pre-eminence! yourself to view, above life's weakness and its comforts too.' it is humorously introduced into the _rolliad_ in the description of the speaker:-- 'there cornewall sits, and oh! unhappy fate! must sit for ever through the long debate. painful pre-eminence! he hears, 'tis true, fox, north, and burke, but hears sir joseph too.' [ ] dean stanley (_memorials of westminster abbey_, p. ) says:-- 'one expression at least has passed from the inscription into the proverbial latin of mankind-- "nihil tetigit quod non ornavit."' in a note he adds:--'professor conington calls my attention to the fact that, if this were a genuine classical expression, it would be _ornaret_. the slight mistake proves that it is johnson's own.' the mistake, of course, is the dean's and the professor's, who did not take the trouble to ascertain what johnson had really written. if we may trust cradock, johnson here gave in a latin form what he had already said in english. 'when a bookseller ventured to say something rather slightingly of dr. goldsmith, johnson retorted:--"sir, goldsmith never touches any subject but he adorns it." once when i found the doctor very low at his chambers i related this circumstance to him, and it instantly proved a cordial.' cradock's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] according to mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, i. ), he was born on nov. , . there is a passage in goldsmith's _bee_, no. , which leads me to think that he himself held nov. as his birth-day. he says; 'i shall be sixty-two the twelfth of next november.' now, as _the bee_ was published in october , he would be, not sixty-two, but just half that number--thirty-one on his next birth-day. it is scarcely likely that he selected the number and the date at random. [ ] reynolds chose the spot in westminster abbey where the monument should stand. northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] for a. chamier, see _ante_, i. , note ; and _post_, april , : for p. metcalfe, _post_, under dec. , . w. vachell seems only known to fame as having signed this _round robin_, and attended sir joshua's funeral. who tho. franklin was i cannot learn. he certainly was not thomas francklin, d.d., the professor of greek at cambridge and translator of _sophocles_ and _lucian_, mentioned _post_, end of . the rev. dr. luard, the registrar of that university, has kindly compared for me six of his signatures ranging from to . in each of these the _c_ is very distinct, while the writing is unlike the signature in the _round robin_. [ ] horace walpole wrote in dec. of this year:--'the conversation of many courtiers was openly in favour of arbitrary power. lord huntingdon and dr. barnard, who was promised an irish bishopric, held such discourse publicly.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] he however upon seeing dr. warton's name to the suggestion, that the epitaph should be in english, observed to sir joshua, 'i wonder that joe warton, a scholar by profession, should be such a fool.' he said too, 'i should have thought mund burke would have had more sense.' mr. langton, who was one of the company at sir joshua's, like a sturdy scholar, resolutely refused to sign the _round robin_. the epitaph is engraved upon dr. goldsmith's monument without any alteration. at another time, when somebody endeavoured to argue in favour of its being in english, johnson said, 'the language of the country of which a learned man was a native, is not the language fit for his epitaph, which should be in ancient and permanent language. consider, sir; how you should feel, were you to find at rotterdam an epitaph upon erasmus _in dutch_!' for my own part i think it would be best to have epitaphs written both in a learned language, and in the language of the country; so that they might have the advantage of being more universally understood, and at the same time be secured of classical stability. i cannot, however, but be of opinion, that it is not sufficiently discriminative. applying to goldsmith equally the epithets of '_poetae_, _historici_, _physici_,' is surely not right; for as to his claim to the last of those epithets, i have heard johnson himself say, 'goldsmith, sir, will give us a very fine book upon the subject; but if he can distinguish a cow from a horse, that, i believe, may be the extent of his knowledge of natural history.' his book is indeed an excellent performance, though in some instances he appears to have trusted too much to buffon, who, with all his theoretical ingenuity and extraordinary eloquence, i suspect had little actual information in the science on which he wrote so admirably. for instance, he tells us that the _cow_ sheds her horns every two years; a most palpable errour, which goldsmith has faithfully transferred into his book. it is wonderful that buffon, who lived so much in the country, at his noble seat, should have fallen into such a blunder. i suppose he has confounded the _cow_ with the _deer_. boswell. goldsmith says:--'at three years old the cow sheds its horns and new ones arise in their place, which continue as long as it lives.' _animated nature_, iii. . this statement remains in the second edition. johnson said that the epitaph on sir j. macdonald 'should have been in latin, as everything intended to be universal and permanent should be.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . he treated the notion of an english inscription to smollett 'with great contempt, saying, "an english inscription would be a disgrace to dr. smollett."' _ib_. oct. , . [ ] beside this latin epitaph, johnson honoured the memory of his friend goldsmith with a short one in greek. see _ante_, july , . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, oct. , . [ ] upon a settlement of our account of expences on a tour to the hebrides, there was a balance due to me, which dr. johnson chose to discharge by sending books. boswell. [ ] see _post_, under nov. , . [ ] baretti told me that johnson complained of my writing very long letters to him when i was upon the continent; which was most certainly true; but it seems my friend did not remember it. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for johnson's remedies against melancholy. [ ] it was not 'last year' but on june , , that the negro, james somerset--who had been brought to england by his master, had escaped from him, had been seized, and confined in irons on board a ship in the thames that was bound for jamaica, and had been brought on a writ of _habeas corpus_ before the court of king's bench was discharged by lord mansfield. howell's _state trials_, xx. , and lofft's _reports_, , p. . 'lord mansfield,' writes lord campbell (_lives of the chief justices_, ii. ), 'first established the grand doctrine that the air of england is too pure to be breathed by a slave.' according to lord campbell, mansfield's judgment thus ended:--'the air of england has long been too pure for a slave, and every man is free who breathes it. every man who comes into england is entitled to the protection of english law, whatever oppression he may heretofore have suffered, and whatever may be the colour of his skin: '"quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses." 'let the negro be discharged.' where lord campbell found this speech, that is to say if he did not put it together himself, i cannot guess. mansfield's judgment was very brief. he says in the conclusion:--'the only question before us is, whether the cause on the return [to the writ of _habeas corpus_] is sufficient. if it is, the negro must be remanded; if it is not, he must be discharged. accordingly the return states that the slave departed, and refused to serve; whereupon he was kept to be sold abroad. so high an act of dominion must be recognised by the law of the country where it is used. the power of a master over his slave has been extremely different in different countries. the state of slavery is of such a nature that it is incapable of being introduced on any reasons, moral or political.... it is so odious that nothing can be suffered to support it but positive law. whatever inconveniences therefore may follow from a decision, i cannot say this case is allowed or approved by the law of england; and therefore the black must be discharged.' lofft's _reports_, , p. . 'the judgment of the court,' says broom (_constitutional law_, , p. ), 'was delivered by lord mansfield, c.j., after some delay, and with evident reluctance.' the passage about the air of england that campbell puts into mansfield's mouth is found in mr. hargrave's argument on may , , where he speaks of england as 'a soil whose air is deemed too pure for slaves to breathe in.' lofft's _reports_, p. . mr. dunning replied:--'let me take notice, neither the air of england is too pure for a slave to breathe in, nor the laws of england have rejected servitude.' _ib_. p. . serjeant davy rejoined:--'it has been asserted, and is now repeated by me, this air is too pure for a slave to breathe in. i trust i shall not quit this court without certain conviction of the truth of that assertion.' _ib_. p. . lord mansfield said nothing about the air. the line from virgil, with which lord campbell makes mansfield's speech end, was 'the happily chosen motto' to maclaurin's published argument for the negro; joseph knight, _post_, under nov. , . [ ] the son of johnson's old friend, mr. william drummond. (see vol. ii. pp. - .) he was a young man of such distinguished merit, that he was nominated to one of the medical professorships in the college of edinburgh without solicitation, while he was at naples. having other views, he did not accept of the honour, and soon afterwards died. boswell. [ ] in the third and subsequent editions the date is wrongly given as the th. [ ] a florentine nobleman, mentioned by johnson in his _notes of his tour in france_ [_ante_, oct. , ]. i had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with him in london, in the spring of this year. boswell. mrs. thrale wrote to johnson from bath on may :--'count manucci would wait seven years to come with you; so do not disappoint the man, but bring him along with you. his delight in your company is like boniface's exultation when the squire speaks latin; for understand you he certainly cannot.' _piozzi letters_, i. . it was not the squire, but the priest, foigard, who by his latin did boniface good. _the beaux strategem_, act iii. sc. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] _st. james_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . seven and even eight years later paterson was still a student in need of johnson's recommendation. _post_, june , , and april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] why his lordship uses the epithet _pleasantly_, when speaking of a grave piece of reasoning, i cannot conceive. but different men have different notions of pleasantry. i happened to sit by a gentleman one evening at the opera-house in london, who, at the moment when _medea_ appeared to be in great agony at the thought of killing her children, turned to me with a smile, and said, '_funny_ enough.' boswell. [ ] dr. johnson afterwards told me, that he was of opinion that a clergyman had this right. boswell. [ ] johnson, nearly three years earlier, had said of granger:--'the dog is a whig. i do not like much to see a whig in any dress; but i hate to see a whig in a parson's gown.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] 'i did my utmost,' wrote horace walpole (_letters_, v. ), 'to dissuade mr. granger from the dedication, and took especial pains to get my _virtues_ left out of the question.' [ ] 'in moderation placing all my glory, while tories call me whig, and whigs a tory.' pope, _imitations of horace_, bk. ii sat. i. . . [ ] 'one of the dippers at brighthelmstone, seeing mr. johnson swim in the year , said:--"why, sir, you must have been a stout-hearted gentleman forty years ago."' _piozzi's anec_. p. . johnson, in his verses entitled, _in rivum a mola stoana lichfeldiæ diffluentem_ (_works_, i. ), writes:-- 'errat adhuc vitreus per prata virentia rivus, quo toties lavi membra tenella puer; hic delusa rudi frustrabar brachia motu, dum docuit blanda voce natare pater.' [ ] for this and dr. johnson's other letters to mr. levett, i am indebted to my old acquaintance mr. nathaniel thomas, whose worth and ingenuity have been long known to a respectable, though not a wide circle; and whose collection of medals would do credit to persons of greater opulence. boswell. [ ] johnson's letters to mrs. thrale shew the difference between modern brighton and the brighthelmstone of his days. thus he writes:-- 'ashbourne, sept. , . i know not when i shall write again, now you are going to the world's end [i.e. brighton]. _extra anni solisque vias_, where the post will be a long time in reaching you. i shall, notwithstanding all distance, continue to think on you.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'oct. , . methinks you are now a great way off; and if i come, i have a great way to come to you; and then the sea is so cold, and the rooms are so dull; yet i do love to hear the sea roar and my mistress talk--for when she talks, ye gods! how she will talk. i wish i were with you, but we are now near half the length of england asunder. it is frightful to think how much time must pass between writing this letter and receiving an answer, if any answer were necessary.' _ib_. ii. . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on nov. , :--'i could not help smiling at the expostulation which you suggest to me to try with my father. it would do admirably with some fathers; but it would make mine much worse, for he cannot bear that his son should talk with him as a man. i can only lament his unmelting coldness to my wife and children, for i fear it is hopeless to think of his ever being more affectionate towards them. yet it must be acknowledged that his paying £ of my debt some years ago was a large bounty. he allows me £ a year.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, aug. , , note. [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] 'he said to me often that the time he spent in this tour was the pleasantest part of his life, and asked me if i would lose the recollection of it for five hundred pounds.' boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. , . [ ] chap. viii. . a translation of this work is in _bibliotheca pastorum_, ed. j. ruskin, vol. i. [ ] 'the chief cause of my deficiency has been a life immethodical and unsettled, which breaks all purposes, confounds and suppresses memory, and perhaps leaves too much leisure to imagination.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] johnson wrote to boswell (_ante_, june , ):--'i have stipulated twenty-five for you to give in your own name.' the book was published early in . on feb. , , he wrote:--'i am sorry that i could get no books for my friends in scotland. mr. strahan has at last promised to send two dozen to you.' it is strange that not far short of two years passed before the books were sent. [ ] boswell had 'expressed his extreme aversion to his father's second marriage.' _letters of boswell_, p. --on sept. , , he thus described his step-mother:--'his wife, whom in my conscience i cannot condemn for any capital bad quality, is so narrow-minded, and, i don't know how, so set upon keeping him under her own management, and so suspicious and so sourishly tempered that it requires the utmost exertion of practical philosophy to keep myself quiet.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, jan. and may , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] macquarry was the chief of ulva's isle. 'he told us,' writes boswell, 'his family had possessed ulva for nine hundred years; but i was distressed to hear that it was soon to be sold for payment of his debts.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct , . [ ] see _ante_, march , . [ ] mrs. thrale gives a long but scarcely credible account of her quarrel with baretti. it is very unlikely that he used to say to her eldest daughter 'that, if her mother died in a lying-in which happened while he lived here, he hoped mr. thrale would marry miss whitbred, who would be a pretty companion for her, and not tyrannical and overbearing like me.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . no doubt in he attacked her brutally (see _ante_, p. ). 'i could not have suspected him,' wrote miss burney, 'of a bitterness of invective so cruel, so ferocious.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, iv. . the attack was provoked. mrs. piozzi, in january, , published one of johnson's letters, in which he wrote--at all events she says he wrote:--'poor b----i! do not quarrel with him; to neglect him a little will be sufficient. he means only to be frank, and manly, and independent, and perhaps, as you say, a little wise. to be frank he thinks is to be cynical, and to be independent is to be rude. forgive him, dearest lady, the rather because of his misbehaviour i am afraid he learnt part of me. i hope to set him hereafter a better example.' _piozzi letters_, i. . malone, in , speaks of 'the roughness for which baretti was formerly distinguished.' prior's _malone_, p. . mrs. thrale thus describes his departure: 'my daughter kept on telling me that mr. baretti was grown very old and very cross, would not look at her exercises, but said he would leave this house soon, for it was no better than pandæmonium. the next day he packed up his cloke-bag, which he had not done for three years, and sent it to town; and while we were wondering what he would say about it at breakfast, he was walking to london himself, without taking leave of any one person, except it may be the girl, who owns they had much talk, in the course of which he expressed great aversion to me and even to her, who, [_sic_] he said, he once thought well of.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . baretti, in the _eur. mag_. xiii. , told his story. he said:--'madam took it into her head to give herself airs, and treat me with some coldness and superciliousness. i did not hesitate to set down at breakfast my dish of tea not half drank, go for my hat and stick that lay in the corner of the room, turn my back to the house _insalutato hospite_, and walk away to london without uttering a syllable.' in a marginal note on _piozzi letters_, i. , he says he left streatham on june , . 'i had,' he writes, 'by that time been in a manner one of the family during six years and a-half. johnson had made me hope that thrale would at last give me an annuity for my pains, but, never receiving a shilling from him or from her, i grew tired at last, and on some provocation from her left them abruptly.' it should seem that he afterwards made it up with them, for in a note on vol. ii. p. , he says of the day of mr. thrale's death, 'johnson and i, and many other friends, were to dine with him that day.' the rest of the note, at all events, is inaccurate, for he says that 'mrs. thrale imparted to johnson the news [of her husband's death],' whereas johnson saw him die. [ ] mrs. piozzi says that this money was given to baretti as a consolation for the loss of the italian tour (_ante_, iii. ). hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] the duke of york was present when foote had the accident by which he lost his leg (_ante_, ii. ). moved by compassion, he obtained for him from the king a royal patent for performances at the haymarket from may to sept. in every year. he played but thrice after his retirement. forster's essays, ii. , . [ ] strahan showed greater sagacity about gibbon's _decline and fall_, which had been declined by elmsly. 'so moderate were our hopes,' writes gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ), 'that the original impression had been stinted to five hundred, till the number was doubled by the prophetic taste of mr. strahan.' carrick called strahan 'rather an _obtuse_ man.' _post_, april . [ ] see _post_, sept. , , and april , . [ ] johnson, i believe, at this time suffered less than usual from despondency. see _ante_, iii. , note . the passage in which these words are found applies to one day only. it is as follows:--'march . this day is good friday. it is likewise the day on which my poor tetty was taken from me. my thoughts were disturbed in bed. i remembered that it was my wife's dying day, and begged pardon for all our sins, and commended her; but resolved to mix little of my own sorrows or cares with the great solemnity. having taken only tea without milk i went to church; had time before service to commend my wife, and wished to join quietly in the service, but i did not hear well, and my mind grew unsettled and perplexed. having rested ill in the night i slumbered at the sermon, which, i think, i could not as i sat perfectly hear.... at night i had some ease. l.d. [laus deo] i had prayed for pardon and peace.' _pr. and med_. p. . hawkins, however (_life_, p. ), says, perhaps with considerable exaggeration, that at this time, 'he sunk into indolence, till his faculties seemed to be impaired; deafness grew upon him; long intervals of mental absence interrupted his conversation, and it was difficult to engage his attention to any subject. his friends concluded that his lamp was emitting its last rays, but the lapse of a short period gave them ample proofs to the contrary.' the proofs were _the lives of the poets_. johnson himself says of this time:--'days and months pass in a dream; and i am afraid that my memory grows less tenacious, and my observation less attentive.' _pr. and med_. . [ ] 'lo, the poor indian! whose untutor'd mind sees god in clouds, or hears him in the wind.' pope's _essay on man_, i. . [ ] '"i inherited," said johnson, "a vile melancholy from my father, which has made me mad all my life, at least not sober."' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . see _ante_, i. , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] he continues:--'i passed the afternoon with such calm gladness of mind as it is very long since i felt before. i passed the night in such sweet uninterrupted sleep as i have not known since i slept at fort augustus.' see _post_, nov. , , where in a letter to boswell he says:--'the best night that i have had these twenty years was at fort augustus.' in he mentions (_pr. and med_. p. ) 'a sudden relief he once had by a good night's rest in fetter lane,' where he had lived many years before. his good nights must have been rare indeed. [ ] bishop percy says that he handed over to johnson various memoranda which he had received from 'goldsmith's brother and others of his family, to afford materials for a _life of goldsmith_, which johnson was to write and publish for their benefit. but he utterly forgot them and the subject.' prior successfully defends johnson against the charge that he did not include goldsmith's _life_ among the _lives of the poets_. 'the copy-right of _she stoops to conquer_ was the property of carnan the bookseller (surviving partner of f. newbery); and carnan being "a most impracticable man and at variance with all his brethren," in the words of malone to the bishop, he refused his assent, and the project for the time fell to the ground.' but percy clearly implies that it was a separate work and not one of the _lives_ that johnson had undertaken. see prior's _goldsmith_, preface, p. x. malone, in a note on boswell's letter of july , , says:--'i collected some materials for a _life of goldsmith_, by johnson's desire.' he goes on to mention the quarrel with carnan. it should seem then that johnson was gathering materials for goldsmith's _life_ before the _lives of the poets_ were projected; that later on he intended to include it in that series, but being thwarted by carnan that he did nothing. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'i have often desired him not to call me goldy.' _ib_. oct. . [ ] 'the duke of argyle was obliging enough to mount dr. johnson on a stately steed from his grace's stable. my friend was highly pleased, and joseph [boswell's bohemian servant] said, "he now looks like a bishop."' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] even burke falls into the vulgarism of 'mutual friend.' see his _correspondence_, i. , ii. . goldsmith also writes of 'mutual acquaintance.' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. . [ ] he means to imply, i suppose, that johnson was the father of plantations. see _ante_, under feb. , . note. [ ] for a character of this very amiable man, see _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. . [aug. .] boswell. [ ] by the then course of the post, my long letter of the th had not yet reached him. boswell. [ ] _history of philip the second_. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, jan. , . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale on jan. , , that he had had about twelve ounces of blood taken, and then about ten more, and that another bleeding was to follow. 'yet i do not make it a matter of much form. i was to-day at mrs. gardiner's. when i have bled to-morrow, i will not give up langton nor paradise. but i beg that you will fetch me away on friday. i do not know but clearer air may do me good; but whether the air be clear or dark, let me come to you.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, sept. , , note. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] johnson tried in vain to buy this book at aberdeen. _ib_. aug. . [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] no doubt her _miscellanies_. _ante_, ii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] john_son_ is the most common english formation of the sirname from _john_; john_ston_ the scotch. my illustrious friend observed that many north britons pronounced his name in their own way. boswell. boswell (_hebrides_, oct. , ) tells of one lochbuy who, 'being told that dr. johnson did not hear well, bawled out to him, "are you of the johnstons of glencro, or of ardnamurchan?"' [ ] see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] johnson's old amanuensis. _ante_, i. . johnson described him as 'a man of great learning.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] on account of their differing from him as to religion and politicks. boswell. see _post_, april , . mr. croker says that 'the club had, as its records show, for many of his latter years very little of his company.' [ ] see _ante_, i. note , july , , and march , . [ ] boswell was no reader. 'i don't believe,' johnson once said to him, 'you have borrowed from waller. i wish you would enable yourself to borrow more.' _ante_, april , . boswell wrote to temple on march , :--'i have a kind of impotency of study.' two months later he wrote:--'i have promised to dr. johnson to read when i get to scotland, and to keep an account of what i read. i shall let you know how i go on. my mind must be nourished.' _letters of boswell_, pp. , . [ ] chesterfield's _letters to his son_ were published in , and his _miscellaneous works_, together with _memoirs and letters to his friends_, early in . [ ] 'whatso it is, the danaan folk, yea gift-bearing i fear.' morris, Ã�neids, ii. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale on march , :--'you are all young, and gay, and easy; but i have miserable nights, and know not how to make them better; but i shift pretty well a-days, and so have at you all at dr. burney's to-morrow.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] a twelfth was born next year. see _post_, july , . [ ] it was march . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson's moderation in demanding so small a sum is extraordinary. had he asked one thousand, or even fifteen hundred guineas, the booksellers, who knew the value of his name, would doubtless have readily given it. they have probably got five thousand guineas by this work in the course of twenty-five years. malone. [ ] see _post_, beginning of . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] mr. joseph cooper walker, of the treasury, dublin, who obligingly communicated to me this and a former letter from dr. johnson to the same gentleman (for which see vol. i. p. ), writes to me as follows: --'perhaps it would gratify you to have some account of mr. o'connor. he is an amiable, learned, venerable old gentleman, of an independent fortune, who lives at belanagar, in the county of roscommon; he is an admired writer, and member of the irish academy.--the above letter is alluded to in the preface to the nd edit, of his _dissert_, p. .'--mr. o'connor afterwards died at the age of eighty-two. see a well-drawn character of him in the _gent. mag_. for august . boswell. [ ] mr. croker shows good reason for believing that in the original letter this parenthesis stood:--'_if such there were_.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'johnson had not heard of pearce's _sermons_, which i wondered at, considering that he wrote all the _life_ published by the chaplain derby, except what his lordship wrote himself.' _letters of boswell_, p. . see ante, march , . [ ] boswell, it seems, is here quoting himself. see his _hebrides_, rd edit. p. (sept. , ), where, however, he lays the emphasis differently, writing '_fervour_ of loyalty.' [ ] 'an old acquaintance' of the bishop says that 'he struggled hard ten years ago to resign his bishopric and the deanery of westminster, in which our gracious king was willing to gratify him; but upon a consultation of the bishops they thought it could not be done with propriety; yet he was permitted to resign the deanery.' _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] 'this person, it is said, was a stay-maker, but being a man of wit and parts he betook himself to study, and at a time when the discipline of the inns of court was scandalously lax, got himself called to the bar, and practised at the quarter-sessions under me, but with little success. he became the conductor of a paper called _the public ledger_ and a writer for the stage, in which he met with some encouragement, till it was insinuated that he was a pensioner of the minister, and therefore a fit object of patriotic vengeance.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . see _ante_, ii. note, and _post_, , in mr. nichols's account of johnson's last days. [ ] 'this address had the desired effect. the play was well received.' murphy's _garrick_, p. . johnson wrote to mrs. thrale from lichfield, 'lucy [his step-daughter] thinks nothing of my prologue for kelly, and says she has always disowned it.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] it was composed at a time when savage was generally without lodging, and often without meat. much of it was written with pen and ink that were borrowed, on paper that had been picked up in the streets. the unhappy poet 'was obliged to submit himself wholly to the players, and admit with whatever reluctance the emendations of mr. cibber, which he always considered as the disgrace of his performance.' when it was brought out, he himself took the part of overbury. 'he was so much ashamed of having been reduced to appear as a player, that he always blotted out his name from the list when a copy of his tragedy was to be shown to his friends.' johnson's _works_, viii. - . [ ] it was not at drury-lane, but at covent garden theatre, that it was acted. malone. [ ] part first, chap . boswell. see _ante_ ii. . [ ] _life of richard savage_, by dr. johnson. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, may , . [ ] sheridan joined the literary club in march, . _the rivals_ and _the duenna_ were brought out in ; _the trip to scarborough_ on feb. , , and _the school for scandal_ in the following may. moore (_life of sheridan_, i. ), speaking of _the duenna_, says, 'the run of this opera has, i believe, no parallel in the annals of the drama. sixty-three nights was the career of _the beggar's opera_; but _the duenna_ was acted no less than seventy-five times during the season.' _the trip to scarborough_ was a failure. johnson, therefore, doubtless referred to _the rivals_ and _the duenna_. [ ] the date is wrongly given. boswell says that he wrote again on june (_post_, p. ), and johnson's letter of june is in answer to both letters. the right date is perhaps june . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. , . [ ] see pp. , , of this volume. boswell. [ ] johnson, describing 'the fond intimacy' of quin and thomson, says (_works_, viii. ):--'the commencement of this benevolence is very honourable to quin, who is reported to have delivered thomson, then known to him only for his genius, from an arrest by a very considerable present; and its continuance is honourable to both, for friendship is not always the sequel of obligation.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, june , . [ ] formerly sub-preceptor to his present majesty, and afterwards a commissioner of excise. malone. [ ] the physician and poet. he died in . [ ] boswell nine years earlier (_ante_, ii. ) had heard johnson accuse thomson of gross sensuality. [ ] 'savage, who lived much with thomson, once told me he heard a lady remarking that she could gather from his works three parts of his character, that he was a great lover, a great swimmer, and rigorously abstinent; but, said savage, he knows not any love but that of the sex; he was perhaps never in cold water in his life; and he indulges himself in all the luxury that comes within his reach.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] dr. johnson was not the _editor_ of this collection of _the english poets_; he merely furnished the biographical prefaces. malone. see _post_, sept. , . [ ] see _ante_, under april , . [ ] one letter he seems to have sent to him from this spot. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] dr. johnson had himself talked of our seeing carlisle together. _high_ was a favourite word of his to denote a person of rank. he said to me, 'sir, i believe we may at the house of a roman catholick lady in cumberland; a high lady, sir.' i afterwards discovered he meant mrs. strickland, sister of charles townley, esq., whose very noble collection of pictures is not more to be admired, than his extraordinary and polite readiness in shewing it, which i and several of my friends have agreeably experienced. they who are possessed of valuable stores of gratification to persons of taste, should exercise their benevolence in imparting the pleasure. grateful acknowledgments are due to welbore ellis agar, esq., for the liberal access which he is pleased to allow to his exquisite collection of pictures. boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] it is no doubt, on account of its brevity that boswell in speaking of it writes:--'what is called _the life_.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct, , . [ ] see _ante_, under feb. , . [ ] see post, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] from prior's imitation of _gualterus danistonus ad amicos_; the poem mentioned by boswell in his _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] _copy_ is _manuscript for printing_. [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that the jury did not at the trial recommend dodd to mercy. to one of the petitions 'mrs. dodd first got the hands of the jury that found the bill against her husband, and after that, as it is supposed, of the jury that tried him.' ib. p. . he says that the public were at first very little interested in his fate, 'but by various artifices, and particularly the insertion of his name in public papers, with such palliatives as he and his friends could invent, never with the epithet of _unfortunate_, they were betrayed into such an enthusiastic commiseration of his case as would have led a stranger to believe that himself had been no accessory to his distresses, but that they were the inflictions of providence.' ib. p. . johnson wrote to dr. taylor on may :--'poor dodd was sentenced last week.... i am afraid he will suffer. the clergy seem not to be his friends. the populace, that was extremely clamorous against him, begins to pity him. _notes and queries_, th s., v. . [ ] horace walpole says 'the criminal was raised to the dignity of a confessor in the eyes of the people--but an inexorable judge had already pronounced his doom. lord mansfield, who never felt pity, and never relented unless terrified, had indecently declared for execution even before the judges had given their opinion. an incident that seemed favourable weighed down the vigorous [qu. rigorous] scale. the common council had presented a petition for mercy to the king. lord mansfield, who hated the popular party as much as he loved severity, was not likely to be moved by such intercessors. at court it grew the language that the king must discountenance such interposition.' walpole adds that 'as an attempt to rescue dodd might be apprehended, two thousand men were ordered to be reviewed in hyde park during the execution.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] johnson, in the '_observations_ inserted in the newspapers' (_post_, p. ), said 'that though the people cannot judge of the administration of justice so well as their governors, yet their voice has always been regarded. that if the people now commit an error, their error is on the part of mercy; and that perhaps history cannot shew a time in which the life of a criminal, guilty of nothing above fraud, was refused to the cry of nations, to the joint supplication of three and twenty thousand petitioners.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . johnson's earnestness as a petitioner contrasts with the scornful way in which he had spoken of petitions. 'there must be no yielding to encourage this,' the minister might have answered in his own words. _ante_, ii. . [ ] the king signs no sentences or death warrants; but out of respect to the royal perogative of mercy, expressed by the old adage, '_the king's face gives grace_,' the cases of criminals convicted in london, where the king is supposed to be resident, were reported to him by the recorder, that his majesty might have an option of pardoning. hence it was seriously doubted whether a recorder's report need or, indeed, could be made at windsor. all his majesty did on these occasions was, to express verbally his assent or dissent to or from the execution of the sentence; and, though the king was on such occasions attended by his ministers and the great legal privy councillors, the business was not technically a council business, but the individual act of the king. on the accession of queen victoria, the nature of some cases that it might be necessary to report to her majesty occasioned the abrogation of a practice which was certainly so far unreasonable that it made a difference between london and all the rest of the kingdom. croker. 'i was exceedingly shocked,' said lord eldon, 'the first time i attended to hear the recorder's report, at the careless manner in which, as it appeared to me, it was conducted. we were called upon to decide on sentences affecting no less than the lives of men, and yet there was nothing laid before us to enable us to judge whether there had or had not been any extenuating circumstances; it was merely a recapitulation of the judge's opinion and the sentence. i resolved that i never would attend another report, without having read and duly considered the whole of the evidence of each case, and i never did.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] under-secretary of state and a member of the literary club. _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson does not here let boswell know that he had written this address (_post_, p. ). wesley, two days before dodd's execution, records (_journal_, iv. ):--'i saw dr. dodd for the last time. he was in exactly such a temper as i wished. he never at any time expressed the least murmuring or resentment at any one; but entirely and calmly gave himself up to the will of god. such a prisoner i scarce ever saw before; much less such a condemned malefactor. i should think none could converse with him without acknowledging that god is with him.' in earlier years wesley was more than once refused admittance to a man under sentence of death who was 'earnestly desirous' to speak with him. wesley's _journal_, ed. , i. , , . [ ] between the methodists and the moravians there was no good-will. in the moravians published a declaration that 'whosoever reckons that those persons in england who are usually called moravians, and those who are called methodists, are the same, he is mistaken.' thereupon wesley recorded in his _journal_, ii. l :--'the methodists, so called, heartily thank brother louis for his declaration; as they count it no honour to be in any connexion either with him or his brethren.' [ ] since they have been so much honoured by dr. johnson i shall here insert them: 'to mr. samuel johnson. 'my ever dear and much-respected sir, 'you know my solemn enthusiasm of mind. you love me for it, and i respect myself for it, because in so far i resemble mr. johnson. you will be agreeably surprized when you learn the reason of my writing this letter. i am at wittemberg in saxony. i am in the old church where the reformation was first preached, and where some of the reformers lie interred. i cannot resist the serious pleasure of writing to mr. johnson from the tomb of melancthon. my paper rests upon the gravestone of that great and good man, who was undoubtedly the worthiest of all the reformers. he wished to reform abuses which had been introduced into the church; but had no private resentment to gratify. so mild was he, that when his aged mother consulted him with anxiety on the perplexing disputes of the times, he advised her "to keep to the old religion." at this tomb, then, my ever dear and respected friend! i vow to thee an eternal attachment. it shall be my study to do what i can to render your life happy: and, if you die before me, i shall endeavour to do honour to your memory; and, elevated by the remembrance of you, persist in noble piety. may god, the father of all beings, ever bless you! and may you continue to love, 'your most affectionate friend, and devoted servant, 'james boswell.' 'sunday, sept. , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'wilton-house, april , . 'my dear sir, 'every scene of my life confirms the truth of what you have told me, "there is no certain happiness in this state of being."--i am here, amidst all that you know is at lord pembroke's; and yet i am weary and gloomy. i am just setting out for the house of an old friend in devonshire, and shall not get back to london for a week yet. you said to me last good-friday, with a cordiality that warmed my heart, that if i came to settle in london, we should have a day fixed every week, to meet by ourselves and talk freely. to be thought worthy of such a privilege cannot but exalt me. during my present absence from you, while, notwithstanding the gaiety which you allow me to possess, i am darkened by temporary clouds, i beg to have a few lines from you; a few lines merely of kindness, as--a _viaticum_ till i see you again. in your _vanity of human wishes_, and in parnell's _contentment_, i find the only sure means of enjoying happiness; or, at least, the hopes of happiness. i ever am, with reverence and affection, 'most faithfully yours, 'james boswell.' [ ] william seward, esq., f.r.s., editor of _anecdotes of some distinguished persons_, etc., in four volumes, vo., well known to a numerous and valuable acquaintance for his literature, love of the fine arts, and social virtues. i am indebted to him for several communications concerning johnson. boswell. miss burney frequently mentions him as visiting the thrales. 'few people do him justice,' said mrs. thrale to her, 'because as dr. johnson calls him, he is an abrupt young man; but he has excellent qualities, and an excellent understanding.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . miss burney, in one of her letters, says:--'mr. seward, who seems to be quite at home among them, appears to be a penetrating, polite, and agreeable young man. mrs. thrale says of him, that he does good to everybody, but speaks well of nobody.' _memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. . he must not be confounded with the rev. mr. seward of lichfield. [ ] see _post_, under date of june , . [ ] in the list of deaths in the _gent. mag_. for , p. , we find, 'feb. . isaac de groot, great-grandson to the learned grotius. he had long been supported by private donations, and at length was provided for in the charterhouse, where he died.' [ ] the preceding letter. boswell. [ ] this letter was addressed not to a mr. dilly, but to mr. w. sharp, junior. see _gent. mag_. , p. . croker. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see ante, p. , and _post_, under nov. , . [ ] johnson gives both _epocha_ and _epoch_ in his _dictionary_. [ ] langton. see _ante_, p. , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] this very just remark i hope will be constantly held in remembrance by parents, who are in general too apt to indulge their own fond feelings for their children at the expence of their friends. the common custom of introducing them after dinner is highly injudicious. it is agreeable enough that they should appear at any other time; but they should not be suffered to poison the moments of festivity by attracting the attention of the company, and in a manner compelling them from politeness to say what they do not think. boswell. see _ante_, p. . [ ] gibbon wrote to garrick from paris on aug. :--'at this time of year the society of the turk's-head can no longer be addressed as a corporate body, and most of the individual members are probably dispersed: adam smith in scotland; burke in the shades of beaconsfield; fox, the lord or the devil knows where, etc. be so good as to salute in my name those friends who may fall in your way. assure sir joshua, in particular, that i have not lost my relish for _manly_ conversation and the society of the brown table.' _garrick corres_. ii. . i believe that in gibbon's published letters no mention is found of johnson. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, april , . of his greatness at the bar lord eldon has left the following anecdote;--'mr. dunning, being in very great business, was asked how he contrived to get through it all. he said, "i do one third of it, another third does itself, and the remaining third continues undone."' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] it is not easy to detect johnson in anything that comes even near an inaccuracy. let me quote, therefore, a passage from one of his letters which shews that when he wrote to mrs. boswell he had not, as he seems to imply, eaten any of the marmalade:--'aug. , . i believe it was after i left your house that i received a pot of orange marmalade from mrs. boswell. we have now, i hope, made it up. i have not opened my pot.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, march , . [ ] what it was that had occured is shewn by johnson's letter to mrs. thrale on aug. :--'boswell's project is disconcerted by a visit from a relation of yorkshire, whom he mentions as the head of his clan [see _ante_, ii. , note ]. boszy, you know, make a huge bustle about all his own motions and all mine. i have inclosed a letter to pacify him, and reconcile him to the uncertainties of human life.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] when she was about four months old, boswell declared that she should have five hundred pounds of additional fortune, on account of her fondness for dr. johnson. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . she died, says malone, of a consumption, four months after her father. [ ] see _ante_, march , . [ ] by an odd mistake, in the first three editions we find a reading in this line to which dr. johnson would by no means have subscribed, _wine_ having been substituted for _time_. that error probably was a mistake in the transcript of johnson's original letter. the other deviation in the beginning of the line (_virtue_ instead of nature) must be attributed to his memory having deceived him. the verse quoted is the concluding line of a sonnet of sidney's:-- 'who doth desire that chast his wife should bee, first be he true, for truth doth truth deserve; then be he such, as she his worth may see, and, alwaies one, credit with her preserve: not toying kynd nor causelessly unkynd, nor stirring thoughts, nor yet denying right, nor spying faults, nor in plaine errors blind, never hard hand, nor ever rayns (reins) too light; as far from want, as far from vaine expence, th' one doth enforce, the t'other doth entice: allow good companie, but drive from thence all filthie mouths that glorie in their vice: this done, thou hast no more but leave the rest to _nature_, fortune, _time_, and woman's breast.' malone. [ ] corinthians, iv. . [ ] boswell says (ante, i. ):--'i am not satisfied if a year passes without my having read _rasselas_ through.' [ ] it appears that johnson, now in his sixty-eighth year, was seriously inclined to realise the project of our going up the baltick, which i had started when we were in the isle of sky [boswell's _hebrides_, sept. ]; for he thus writes to mrs. thrale; _letters_, vol. i. p. :-- 'ashbourne, sept. , . 'boswell, i believe, is coming. he talks of being here to day: i shall be glad to see him: but he shrinks from the baltick expedition, which, i think, is the best scheme in our power: what we shall substitute i know not. he wants to see wales; but, except the woods of _bachycraigh_, what is there in wales, that can fill the hunger of ignorance, or quench the thirst of curiosity? we may, perhaps, form some scheme or other; but, in the phrase of _hockley in the hole_, it is a pity he has not a _better bottom_.' such an ardour of mind, and vigour of enterprise, is admirable at any age: but more particularly so at the advanced period at which johnson was then arrived. i am sorry now that i did not insist on our executing that scheme. besides the other objects of curiosity and observation, to have seen my illustrious friend received, as he probably would have been, by a prince so eminently distinguished for his variety of talents and acquisitions as the late king of sweden; and by the empress of russia, whose extraordinary abilities, information, and magnanimity, astonish the world, would have afforded a noble subject for contemplation and record. this reflection may possibly be thought too visionary by the more sedate and cold-blooded part of my readers; yet i own, i frequently indulge it with an earnest, unavailing regret. boswell. in _the spectator_, no. , hockley in the hole is described as 'a place of no small renown for the gallantry of the lower order of britons.' fielding mentions it in _jonathan wild_, bk. i. ch. :-- 'jonathan married elizabeth, daughter of scragg hollow, of hockley in the hole, esq., and by her had jonathan, who is the illustrious subject of these memoirs.' in _the beggar's opera_, act i. mrs. peachum says to filch: 'you should go to hockley in the hole, and to marylebone, child, to learn valour. these are the schools that have bred so many brave men.' hockley in the hole was in clerkenwell. that johnson had this valour was shewn two years earlier, when he wrote to mrs. thrale about a sum of £ , that the thrales had received: 'if i had money enough, what would i do? perhaps, if you and master did not hold me, i might go to cairo, and down the red sea to bengal, and take a ramble in india. would this be better than building and planting? it would surely give more variety to the eye, and more amplitude to the mind. half fourteen thousand would send me out to see other forms of existence, and bring me back to describe them.' _piozzi letters_, i. . to the 'king of sweden' _late_ was added in the second edition; gustavus iii having been assassinated in march . the story is somewhere told that george iii, on hearing the news, cried out, 'what, what, what! shot, shot, shot!' the empress of russia was catherine ii. [ ] it so happened. the letter was forwarded to my house at edinburgh. boswell. arthur young (_tour through the north of england_, iv. - ) describes, in , some of the roads along which boswell was to travel nine years later. 'i would advise all travellers to consider the country between newcastle-under-line and preston as sea, and as soon think of driving into the ocean as venturing into such detestable roads. i am told the derby way to manchester is good, but further is not penetrable.' the road from wigan to preston he calls 'infernal,' and 'cautions all travellers, who may accidentally purpose to travel this terrible country, to avoid it as they would the devil; for a thousand to one they break their necks or their limbs. they will here meet with ruts which i actually measured four feet deep, and floating with mud only from a wet summer; what therefore must it be after a winter?' [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on sept. , :--'last night came boswell. i am glad that he is come. he seems to be very brisk and lively, and laughs a little at ---- [no doubt taylor].' _piozzi letters_, i. . on the th he wrote:--'boswell is with us in good humour, and plays his part with his usual vivacity.' on this baretti noted in his copy:--'that is, he makes more noise than anybody in company, talking and laughing loud.' on p. in vol. i. he noted:--'boswell is not quite right-headed in my humble opinion.' [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for , p. , it is described as a 'violent shock.' [ ] 'grief has its time' he once said (_post_, june , ). 'grief is a species of idleness,' he wrote to mrs. thrale (_piozzi letters_, i. ). he constantly taught that it is a duty not to allow the mind to prey on itself. 'gaiety is a duty when health requires it' (croker's _boswell_, p. ). 'encourage yourself in bustle, and variety, and cheerfulness,' he wrote to mrs. thrale ten weeks after the death of her only surviving son (_piozzi letters_, i. ). 'even to think in the most reasonable manner,' he said at another time, 'is for the present not useful as not to think.' _ib_ i. . when mr. thrale died, he wrote to his widow:--'i think business the best remedy for grief, as soon as it can be admitted.' _ib_. ii . to dr. taylor johnson wrote:--'sadness only multiplies self.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . [ ] 'there is no wisdom in useless and hopeless sorrow; but there is something in it so like virtue, that he who is wholly without it cannot be loved, nor will by me at least be thought worthy of esteem.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . against this baretti has written in the margin:-- 'johnson never grieved much for anything. his trade was wisdom.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii . mr. croker gives a reference to p. of his edition. turning to it we find an account of johnson, who rode upon three horses. it would seem from this that, because john=jack, therefore johnson=jackson. [ ] mr. croker remarks on this:--'johnson evidently thought, either that ireland is generally mountainous, or that mr. burke came from a part which was: but he was mistaken.' the allusion may well be, not to burke as a native of ireland, but to him as a student of national politics and economy, to whom any general reflections on the character of mountaineers would be welcome. in johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , it is stated that 'it was the philosophy of the book that burke thought well of.' [ ] mr. langley, i have little doubt, is the mr. l---- of the following passage in johnson's letter, written from ashbourne on july , :--'mr. l---- and the doctor still continue at variance; and the doctor is afraid and mr. l---- not desirous of a reconciliation. i therefore step over at by-times, and of by-times i have enough.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] george garrick. see murphy's _johnson_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, march , , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] 'while lord bathurst held the great seal, an attempt was in vain made to corrupt him by a secret offer to lady bathurst of three thousand guineas for the living of st. george's, hanover square. the offer was traced to the famous dr. dodd, then a king's chaplain, and he was immediately dismissed.' campbell's _chancellors_, v. . see walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] horace walpole, who accompanied prince edward to a service at the magdalen house in , thus describes the service (_letters_, iii. ): --'as soon as we entered the chapel the organ played, and the magdalens sung a hymn in parts. you cannot imagine how well. the chapel was dressed with orange and myrtle, and there wanted nothing but a little incense to drive away the devil,--or to invite him. prayers then began, psalms and a sermon; the latter by a young clergyman, one dodd, who contributed to the popish idea one had imbibed, by haranguing entirely in the french style, and very eloquently and touchingly. he apostrophised the lost sheep, who sobbed and cried from their souls: so did my lady hertford and fanny pelham, till, i believe, the city dames took them both for jane shores. the confessor then turned to the audience, and addressed himself to his royal highness, whom he called most illustrious prince, beseeching his protection. in short, it was a very pleasing performance, and i got _the most illustrious_ to desire it might be printed.' dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) heard dodd preach in . 'we had,' he says, 'difficulty to get tolerable seats, the crowd of genteel people was so great. the unfortunate young women were in a latticed gallery, where you could only see those who chose to be seen. the preacher's text was, "if a man look on a woman to lust after her," &c. the text itself was shocking, and the sermon was composed with the least possible delicacy, and was a shocking insult on a sincere penitent, and fuel for the warm passions of the hypocrites. the fellow was handsome, and delivered his discourse remarkably well for a reader. when he had finished, there were unceasing whispers of applause, which i could not help contradicting aloud, and condemning the whole institution, as well as the exhibition of the preacher, as _contra bonos mores_, and a disgrace to a christian city.' goldsmith in exposed dodd as a 'quacking divine' in his _retaliation_. he describes dr. douglas as a 'the scourge of impostors, the terror of quacks,' and he continues,-- 'but now he is gone, and we want a detector, our dodds shall be pious, our kenricks shall lecture.' see _post_, april , . [ ] the fifth earl, the successor of the celebrated earl. on feb. , , dodd was convicted of forging a bond for £ , in his name; _ann. reg_. xx. . the earl was unfortunate in his tutors, for he had been also under cuthbert shaw (_ante_, ii note ). [ ] mr. croker quotes the following letter of dodd, dated :--'i spent yesterday afternoon with johnson, the celebrated author of _the rambler_, who is of all others the oddest and most peculiar fellow i ever saw. he is six feet high, has a violent convulsion in his head, and his eyes are distorted. he speaks roughly and loud, listens to no man's opinions, thoroughly pertinacious of his own. good sense flows from him in all he utters, and he seems possessed of a prodigious fund of knowledge, which he is not at all reserved in communicating; but in a manner so obstinate, ungenteel, and boorish, as renders it disagreeable and dissatisfactory. in short it is impossible for words to describe him. he seems often inattentive to what passes in company, and then looks like a person possessed by some superior spirit. i have been reflecting on him ever since i saw him. he is a man of most universal and surprising genius, but in himself particular beyond expression.' dodd was born in . [ ] 'one of my best and tenderest friends,' johnson called him, _post_, july , . see _post_, april , . [ ] _the convict's address to his unhappy brethren: being a sermon preached by the rev. dr. dodd, friday, june , , in the chapel of newgate, while under sentence of death, for forging the name of the earl of chesterfield on a bond for £ , . sold by the booksellers and news-carriers. price two-pence_. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale from lichfield on aug. :--'lucy said, "when i read dr. dodd's sermon to the prisoners, i said dr. johnson could not make a better."' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, p. . [ ] 'what must i do to be saved?' _acts_ xvi. . [ ] 'and finally we must commend and entrust our souls to him who died for the sins of men; with earnest wishes and humble hopes that he will admit us with the labourers who entered the vineyard at the last hour, and associate us with the thief whom he pardoned on the cross.' p. . [ ] _the gent. mag_. for (p. ) says of this address:--'as none but a convict could have written this, all convicts ought to read it; and we therefore recommend its being framed, and hung up in all prisons.' mr. croker, italicising _could_ and suppressing the latter part of the sentence, describes it as a criticism that must have been offensive to johnson. the writer's meaning is simple enough. the address, he knew, was delivered in the chapel of newgate by a prisoner under sentence of death. if, instead of 'written' he had said 'delivered,' his meaning would have been quite clear. [ ] having unexpectedly, by the favour of mr. stone, of london field, hackney, seen the original in johnson's hand-writing, of 'the petition of the city of london to his majesty, in favour of dr. dodd,' i now present it to my readers, with such passages as were omitted in-closed in crotchets, and the additions or variations marked in italicks. 'that william dodd, doctor of laws, now lying under sentence of death _in your majesty's gaol of newgate_, for the crime of forgery, has for a great part of his life set a useful and laudable example of diligence in his calling, [and as we have reason to believe, has exercised his ministry with great fidelity and efficacy,] _which, in many instances, has produced the most happy effect_. 'that he has been the first institutor, [or] _and_ a very earnest and active promoter of several modes of useful charity, and [that] therefore [he] may be considered as having been on many occasions a benefactor to the publick. '[that when they consider his past life, they are willing to suppose his late crime to have been not the consequence of habitual depravity, but the suggestion of some sudden and violent temptation.] '[that] _your petitioners_ therefore considering his case, as in some of its circumstances unprecedented and peculiar, _and encouraged by your majesty's known clemency_, [they] most humbly recommend the said william dodd to [his] your majesty's most gracious consideration, in hopes that he will be found not altogether [unfit] _unworthy_ to stand an example of royal mercy.' boswell. [ ] his speech at the old bailey, when found guilty. boswell. [ ] in the second edition he is described as 'now lord hawkesbury.' he had entered public life as lord bute's private secretary, and, according to horace walpole, continued in it as his tool.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. , . walpole speaks of him as one of 'the jesuits of the treasury' (_ib_. p. ), and 'the director or agent of all the king's secret counsels. his appearance was abject, his countenance betrayed a consciousness of secret guilt; and, though his ambition and rapacity were insatiate, his demeanour exhibited such a want of spirit, that had he stood forth as prime minister, which he really was, his very look would have encouraged opposition.' _ib_. p. . the third earl of liverpool wrote to mr. croker on dec. , : --'very shortly before george iii's accession my father became confidential secretary of lord bute, if you can call secretary a man who all through his life was so bad a penman that he always dictated everything, and of whom, although i have a house full of papers, i have scarcely any in his own hand.' _croker corres_. iii. . the editor is in error in saying that the earl of liverpool who wrote this was son of the prime minister. he was his half-brother. [ ] burke wrote to garrick of fitzherbert:--'you know and love him; but i assure you, until we can talk some late matters over, you, even you, can have no adequate idea of the worth of that man.' _garrick corres_. i. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'i remember a man,' writes mrs. piozzi (_synonomy_, i. l ), 'much delighted in by the upper ranks of society, who upon a trifling embarrassment in his affairs hanged himself behind the stable door, to the astonishment of all who knew him as the liveliest companion and most agreeable converser breathing. "what upon earth," said one at our house, "could have made--[fitzherbert] hang himself?" "why, just his having a multitude of acquaintance," replied dr. johnson, "and ne'er a friend."' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] dr. gisborne, physician to his majesty's household, has obligingly communicated to me a fuller account of this story than had reached dr. johnson. the affected gentleman was the late john gilbert cooper, esq., author of a _life of socrates_, and of some poems in dodsley's _collection_. mr. fitzherbert found him one morning, apparently, in such violent agitation, on account of the indisposition of his son, as to seem beyond the power of comfort. at length, however, he exclaimed, 'i'll write an elegy.' mr. fitzherbert being satisfied, by this, of the sincerity of his emotions, slyly said, 'had not you better take a postchaise and go and see him?' it was the shrewdness of the insinuation which made the story be circulated. boswell. malone writes:--'mr. cooper was the last of the _benevolists_ or sentimentalists, who were much in vogue between and , and dealt in general admiration of virtue. they were all tenderness in words; their finer feeling evaporated in the moment of expression, for they had no connection with their practice.' prior's _malone_, p. . see _ante_, ii. . this fashion seems to have reached paris a few years later. mme. riccoboni wrote to garrick on may , :--'dans notre brillante capitale, où dominent les airs et la mode, s'attendrir, s'émouvoir, s'affliger, c'est le bon ton du moment. la bonté, la sensibilité, la tendre humanité sont devenues la fantaisie universelle. on ferait volontiers des malheureux pour goûter la douceur de les plaindre.' garrick _corres_. ii. . [ ] johnson had felt the truth of this in the case of 'old mr. sheridan.' _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson, in his letters from ashbourne, used to joke about taylor's cattle:--'july , . i have seen the great bull, and very great he is. i have seen likewise his heir apparent, who promises to enherit all the bulk and all the virtues of his sire, i have seen the man who offered an hundred guineas for the young bull, while he was yet little better than a calf.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'july , . the great bull has no disease but age. i hope in time to be like the great bull; and hope you will be like him too a hundred years hence.' _ib_. p. . 'july , . there has been a man here to-day to take a farm. after some talk he went to see the bull, and said that he had seen a bigger. do you think he is likely to get the farm?' _ib_. p. . 'oct. , . our bulls and cows are all well; but we yet hate the man that had seen a bigger bull.' _ib_. p. . [ ] quoted by boswell in his _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] in the letters that boswell and erskine published (_ante_, , note) are some verses by erskine, of very slight merit. [ ] horace, _odes_, ii. . [ ] 'the tender glance, the red'ning cheek, o'erspread with rising blushes, a thousand various ways they speak a thousand various wishes.' hamilton's _poems_, ed. , p. . [ ] in the original, _now. ib_. p. . [ ] thomson, in _the seasons_, winter, . , describes how the ocean 'by the boundless frost is many a fathom to the bottom chain'd.' in . , speaking of a thaw, he says, 'the rivers swell of bonds impatient.' [ ] see _ante_ march , . [ ] johnson wrote of pope (_works_, viii. ):--'the indulgence and accommodation which his sickness required had taught him all the unpleasing and unsocial qualities of a valetudinary man.' [ ] when he was ill of a fever he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'the doctor was with me again to-day, and we both think the fever quite gone. i believe it was not an intermittent, for i took of my own head physick yesterday; and celsus says, it seems, that if a cathartick be taken the fit will return _certo certius_. i would bear something rather than celsus should be detected in an error. but i say it was a _febris continua_, and had a regular crisis.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] johnson must have shortened his life by the bleedings that he underwent. how many they were cannot be known, for no doubt he was often bled when he has left no record of it. the following, however, i have noted. i do not know that he was bled more than most people of his time. dr. taylor, it should seem, underwent the operation every quarter. dec. . thrice. ounces. croker's _boswell_, p. . jan. . once. _ib_. p. . april . cupped. _pemb. coll. mss_. winter of - . three times. _ante_, ii. , and _pemb. coll. mss_. may . two copious bleedings. _pr. and med_. . . times not mentioned. ounces. _piozzi letters_, i. . jan. . three bleedings. ounces in first two. _ib_. i. . jan. . once. _post_, jan. , . june . times not mentioned. croker's _boswell_, p. . jan. and feb. . thrice. ounces. _post_, feb. and march , . may . at least once. _post_, under march , , and _piozzi letters_, ii. . yet he wrote to mrs. thrale, 'i am of the chymical sect, which holds phlebotomy in abhorrence.' _ib_. ii. . 'o why,' asks wesley, who was as strongly opposed to bleeding as he was fond of poulticing, 'will physicians play with the lives of their patients? do not others (as well as old dr. cockburn) know that "no end is answered by bleeding in a pleurisy, which may not be much better answered without it?"' wesley's _journal_, ii. . 'dr. cheyne,' writes pope, 'was of mr. cheselden's opinion, that bleeding might be frequently repeated with safety, for he advised me to take four or five ounces every full moon.' elwin and courthope's _pope's works_, ix. . [ ] 'it is the heaviest stone that melancholy can throw at a man, to tell him he is at the end of his nature.' _sir thomas browne _quoted in johnson's _works_, vi. . see _post_, april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] in the last number of _the idler_ johnson says:--'there are few things not purely evil of which we can say without some emotion of uneasiness, _this is the last_.... the secret horrour of the last is inseparable from a thinking being whose life is limited, and to whom death is dreadful.' [ ] in the first edition for _scarce any man_ we find _almost no man_. see _ante_, march , , note. [ ] bacon, in his _essay on death_, says:--'it is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak but it mates and masters the fear of death; and therefore death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him, that can win the combat of him.' in the _de aug. sci_. vi. . , he says:--'non invenias inter humanos affetum tam pusillum, qui si intendatur paullo vehementius, non mortis metum superet.' [ ] johnson, in his _lives of addison and parnell_ (_works_, vii. , ), mentions that they drank too freely. see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_. d edit. p. [sept. ]. boswell. [ ] in the _life of addison_ (_works_, vii. ) he says:--'the necessity of complying with times, and of sparing persons, is the great impediment of biography. history may be formed from permanent monuments and records; but lives can only be written from personal knowledge, which is growing every day less, and in a short time is lost for ever. what is known can seldom be immediately told; and when it might be told, it is no longer known. the delicate features of the mind, the nice discriminations of character, and the minute peculiarities of conduct, are soon obliterated; and it is surely better that caprice, obstinacy, frolick and folly, however they might delight in the description, should be silently forgotten, than that, by wanton merriment and unseasonable detection, a pang should be given to a widow, a daughter, a brother, or a friend. as the process of these narratives is now bringing me among my contemporaries, i begin to feel myself "walking upon ashes under which the fire is not extinguished," and coming to the time of which it will be proper rather to say "nothing that is false, than all that is true."' see _ante_, i. , and . [ ] dr. taylor was very ready to make this admission, because the party with which he was connected was not in power. there was then some truth in it, owing to the pertinacity of factious clamour. had he lived till now, it would have been impossible for him to deny that his majesty possesses the warmest affection of his people. boswell. see _post_, march , . [ ] the duke of york in , speaking in the house of lords on the king's illness, said:--'he was confident that his royal highness [the prince of wales] understood too well the sacred principles which seated the house of brunswick on the throne of great britain ever to assume or exercise any power, be his claim what it might, not derived from the will of the people, expressed by their representatives, and their lordships in parliament assembled.' _parl. hist_. xxvii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , and _post_, under date of sept. , , note. [ ] 'the return of my birth-day,' he wrote in , 'if i remember it, fills me with thoughts which it seems to be the general care of humanity to escape.' _piozzi letters_, i. . in he viewed the day with calmness, _if not with cheerfulness_. he writes:--'i rose, breakfasted, and gave thanks at church for my creation, preservation and redemption. as i came home, i thought i had never begun any period of life so placidly. i have always been accustomed to let this day pass unnoticed, but it came this time into my mind that some little festivity was not improper. i had a dinner; and invited allen and levet.' _pr. and med_. p. . in he again had 'a little dinner,' and invited four friends to keep the day. croker's _boswell_, p. . at streatham the day, it would seem, was always kept. mrs. piozzi writes (_anec_. p. ):--'on the birthday of our eldest daughter, and that of our friend, dr. johnson, the th and th of september, we every year made up a little dance and supper to divert our servants and their friends.' [ ] the son of a mr. coxeter, 'a gentleman,' says johnson, 'who was once my friend,' enlisted in the service of the east india company. johnson asked mr. thrale to use his influence to get his discharge. _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] the bookseller whom johnson beat, _ante_, i. . [ ] 'when a well-known author published his poems in the year , "such a one's verses are come out," said i: "yes," replied johnson, "and this frost has struck them in again. here are some lines i have written to ridicule them; but remember that i love the fellow dearly now--for all i laugh at him. 'wheresoe'er i turn my view, all is strange, yet nothing new; endless labour all along, endless labour to be wrong; phrase that time has flung away; uncouth words in disarray, trick'd in antique ruff and bonnet, ode, and elegy, and sonnet.'"' piozzi's _anec_. p. . thomas warton in published a volume of his poems. he, no doubt, is meant. [ ] in _the rambler_, no. . johnson, twenty-six years earlier, attacked 'the imitation of spenser, which, by the influence of some men of learning and genius, seems likely to gain upon the age.... they seem to conclude that, when they have disfigured their lines with a few obsolete syllables, they have accomplished their design, without considering that they ought, not only to admit old words, but to avoid new. the laws of imitation are broken by every word introduced since the time of spenser.' [ ] warton's _ode on the first of april_ is found a line which may have suggested these two lines:--'the morning hoar, and evening chill.' [ ] 'collins affected the obsolete when it was not worthy of revival; and he puts his words out of the common order, seeming to think, with some later candidates for fame, that not to write prose is certainly to write poetry.' johnson's _works_, viii. . goldsmith, eleven years earlier, said in his _life of parnell_ (_misc. works_, iv. ):--'these misguided innovators have not been content with restoring antiquated words and phrases, but have indulged themselves in the most licentious transpositions and the harshest constructions, vainly imagining that the more their writings are unlike prose, the more they resemble poetry.' collins and warton might have quoted by way of defence the couplet in milton's _l'allegro_.-- 'while the cock with lively din scatters the rear of _darkness thin_.' [ ] as some of my readers may be gratified by reading the progress of this little composition, i shall insert it from my notes. 'when dr. johnson and i were sitting _tête-à-tête_ at the mitre tavern, may , , he said "_where_ is bliss," would be better. he then added a ludicrous stanza, but would not repeat it, lest i should take it down. it was somewhat as follows; the last line i am sure i remember: "while i thus cried, the hoary seer reply'd, come, my lad, and drink some beer." in spring, , when in better humour, he made the second stanza, as in the text. there was only one variation afterwards made on my suggestion, which was changing _hoary_ in the third line to _smiling_, both to avoid a sameness with the epithet in the first line, and to describe the hermit in his pleasantry. he was then very well pleased that i should preserve it.' boswell. [ ] when i mentioned dr. johnson's remark to a lady of admirable good sense and quickness of understanding, she observed, 'it is true, all this excludes only one evil; but how much good does it let in?'--to this observation much praise has been justly given. let me then now do myself the honour to mention that the lady who made it was the late margaret montgomerie, my very valuable wife, and the very affectionate mother of my children, who, if they inherit her good qualities, will have no reason to complain of their lot. _dos magna parentum virtus_. boswell. the latter part of this note was first given in the second edition. the quotation if from horace:-- 'cos est magna parentium virtus.' 'the lovers there for dowry claim the father's virtue and the mother's fame.' francis, horace, odes, iii. . . [ ] he saw it in on his way to wales; but he must, i think, have seen it since, for it does not appear from his _journal of a tour into wales_ that he then saw lord scarsdale. he met him also at dr. taylor's in july . _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] i do not find the description in young's _six months' tour through the north of england_, but in pilkington's _present state of derbyshire_, ii. . [ ] 'quae regio in terris nostri non plena laboris?' 'what place, what land in all the earth but with our grief is stored?' morris, _�neids_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, march and , . [ ] at derby. [ ] baretti in his _italy_, i. , says:--'it is the general custom for our authors to make a present of their works to booksellers, who in return scarcely give a few copies when printed.' the venetian bookseller to whom metastasio gave his cleared, baretti says, more than £ , . goldoni scarcely got for each of his plays ten pounds from the manager of the venetian theatre, and much less from the booksellers. 'our learned stare when they are told that in england there are numerous writers who get their bread by their productions only.' [ ] i am now happy to understand, that mr. john home, who was himself gallantly in the field for the reigning family, in that interesting warfare, but is generous enough to do justice to the other side, is preparing an account of it for the press. boswell. dr. a. carlyle, who knew home well, says (_auto_. p. ):--'all his opinions of men and things were prejudices, which, though it did not disqualify him for writing admirable poetry, yet made him unfit for writing history.' see _ante_, i. , for boswell's projected works. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale the next day:--'the finer pieces [of the derby china] are so dear that perhaps silver vessels of the same capacity may be sometimes bought at the same price; and i am not yet so infected with the contagion of china-fancy as to like anything at that rate which can so easily be broken.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, april , . [ ] see hutton's _history of derby_, a book which is deservedly esteemed for its information, accuracy, and good narrative. indeed the age in which we live is eminently distinguished by topographical excellence. boswell. according to hutton the italians at the beginning of the eighteenth century had 'the exclusive art of silk-throwing.' lombe went to italy, and by bribery got admittance into the works. having mastered the secret he returned to england with two of the workmen. about the year he founded a great silk-mill at derby. he died early, being poisoned, it was asserted, by an italian woman who had been sent over to destroy him. in this mill, hutton, as a child, 'had suffered intolerable severity.' hutton's _derby_, pp. - . [ ] 'i have enlarged my notions,' recorded johnson in his _journal of a tour into wales_ (aug. , ), after he had seen some iron-works. [ ] young. boswell. 'think nought a trifle, though it small appear.' small sands the mountain, moments make the year, and trifles life.' _love of fame_, satire vi. [ ] 'pray, sir, don't leave us;' said johnson to an upholder of berkeley's philosophy, 'for we may perhaps forget to think of you, and then you will cease to exist.' _post_, , in langton's _collection_. see also _ante_, i. . [ ] perhaps boswell is thinking of gray's lines at the close of the _progress of poesy_:-- 'yet shall he mount, and keep his distant way beyond the limits of a vulgar fate.' [ ] goldsmith wrote:--'in all pope's letters, as well as in those of swift, there runs a strain of pride, as if the world talked of nothing but themselves. "alas," says he in one of them, "the day after i am dead the sun will shine as bright as the day before, and the world will be as merry as usual." very strange, that neither an eclipse nor an earthquake should follow the loss of a poet!' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. . goldsmith refers, i suppose, to pope's letter to steele of july , , where he writes:--'the morning after my exit the sun will rise as bright as ever, the flowers smell as sweet, the plants spring as green, the world will proceed in its old course, people will laugh as heartily, and marry as fast as they were used to do.' elwin's pope's _works_, vi. . gray's friend, richard west, in some lines suggested by this letter, gives a pretty turn to pope's thoughts where he says:-- 'for me, whene'er all-conquering death shall spread his wings around my unrepining head, i care not; tho' this face be seen no more, the world will pass as cheerful as before; bright as before the day-star will appear, the fields as verdant, and the skies as clear.' mason's _gray_, ed. , i. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] a brother of dodd's wife told hawkins that 'dodd's manner of living was ever such as his visible income would no way account for. he said that he was the most importunate suitor for preferment ever known; and that himself had been the bearer of letters to great men, soliciting promotion to livings, and had hardly escaped kicking down stairs.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that a mr. selwin, who just missed being elected chamberlain of the city, went by request to see a man under sentence of death in newgate, 'who informed him that he was in daily expectation of the arrival of the warrant for his execution; "but," said he, "i have £ , and you are a man of character, and had the court-interest when you stood for chamberlain; i should therefore hope it is in your power to get me off." mr. selwin was struck with so strange a notion, and asked, if there were any alleviating circumstances in his case. the man peevishly answered "no;" but that he had enquired into the history of the place where he was, and could not find that any one who had £ was ever hanged. mr. selwin told him it was out of his power to help him, and bade him farewell--"which," added he, "he did; for he found means to escape punishment."' [ ] dodd, in his dedication of this sermon to mr. villette, the ordinary of newgate, says:--'the following address owes its present public appearance to you. you heard it delivered, and are pleased to think that its publication will be useful. to a poor and abject worm like myself this is a sufficient inducement to that publication.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . 'they have,' says lowndes (_bibl. man_.), 'passed through innumerable editions.' to how many the book-stalls testify, where they are offered second-hand for a few pence. [ ] goldsmith was thirty when he published _an enquiry into the present state of polite learning in europe_; thirty-six when he published the _traveller_; thirty-seven when he published _the vicar of wakefield_, and thirty-nine when he brought out _the good-natured man_. in flowering late he was like swift. 'swift was not one of those minds which amaze the world with early pregnancy; his first work, except his few poetical essays, was the _dissentions in athens and rome_, published in his thirty-fourth year.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_, april , . [ ] burke, i think, is meant. [ ] this walking about his room naked was, perhaps, part of lord monboddo's system that was founded 'on the superiority of the savage life.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] this regimen was, however, practised by bishop ken, of whom hawkins (_not sir john_) in his life of that venerable prelate, p. , tells us: 'and that neither his study might be the aggressor on his hours of instruction, or what he judged his duty prevent his improvements; or both, his closet addresses to his god; he strictly accustomed himself to but one sleep, which often obliged him to rise at one or two of the clock in the morning, and sometimes sooner; and grew so habitual, that it continued with him almost till his last illness. and so lively and chearful was his temper, that he would be very facetious and entertaining to his friends in the evening, even when it was perceived that with difficulty he kept his eyes open; and then seemed to go to rest with no other purpose than the refreshing and enabling him with more vigour and chearfulness to sing his morning hymn, as he then used to do to his lute before he put on his cloaths.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, under dec. , . [ ] boswell shortened his life by drinking, if, indeed, he did not die of it. less than a year before his death he wrote to temple:--'i thank you sincerely for your friendly admonition on my frailty in indulging so much in wine. i _do_ resolve _anew_ to be upon my guard, as i am sensible how very pernicious as well as disreputable such a habit is! how miserably have i yielded to it in various years!' _letters of boswell_, p. . in paoli had taken his word of honour that he would not taste fermented liquor for a year, that he might recover sobriety. _ib_. p. . for a short time also in boswell was a water-drinker, _post_, april , . [ ] sir james mackintosh told mr. croker that he believed lord errol was meant here as well as _post_, april , . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'must give us pause.' _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] 'he was the first,' writes dr. t. campbell (_survey of the south of ireland_, p. ), 'who gave histories of the weather, seasons, and diseases of dublin.' wesley records (_journal_, iv. ):--'april , . i visited that venerable man, dr. rutty, just tottering over the grave; but still clear in his understanding, full of faith and love, and patiently waiting till his change should come.' [ ] cowper wrote of johnson's _diary_:--'it is certain that the publisher of it is neither much a friend to the cause of religion nor to the author's memory; for, by the specimen of it that has reached us, it seems to contain only such stuff as has a direct tendency to expose both to ridicule.' southey's _cowper_, v. . [ ] huet, bishop of avranches, born , died , published in _commentarius de rebus ad eum pertinentibus. nouv. biog. gene_. xxv. . [ ] when dr. blair published his lectures, he was invidiously attacked for having omitted his censure on johnson's style, and, on the contrary, praising it highly. but before that time johnson's _lives of the poets_ had appeared, in which his style was considerably easier than when he wrote _the rambler_. it would, therefore, have been uncandid in blair, even supposing his criticism to have been just, to have preserved it. boswell. [ ] johnson refers no doubt to the essay _on romances, an imitation_, by a. l. aikin (mrs. barbauld); in _miscellaneous pieces in prose_, by j. and a. l. aikin ( ), p. . he would be an acute critic who could distinguish this _imitation_ from a number of _the rambler_. [ ] see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] _id est, the literary scourge_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson attacks 'the _verbiage_ of robertson.' [ ] 'we were now treading that illustrious island, which was once the luminary of the caledonian regions, whence savage clans and roving barbarians derived the benefits of knowledge, and the blessings of religion. to abstract the mind from all local emotion would be impossible if it were endeavoured, and would be foolish if it were possible. whatever withdraws us from the power of our senses, whatever makes the past, the distant, or the future, predominate over the present, advances us in the dignity of thinking beings. far from me, and from my friends, be such rigid philosophy, as may conduct us, indifferent and unmoved, over any ground which has been dignified by wisdom, bravery or virtue. the [that] man is little to be envied, whose patriotism would not gain force upon the plain of marathon, or whose piety would not grow warmer among the ruins of iona.' had our tour produced nothing else but this sublime passage, the world must have acknowledged that it was not made in vain. sir joseph banks, the present respectable president of the royal society, told me, he was so much struck on reading it, that he clasped his hands together, and remained for some time in an attitude of silent admiration. boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , , and johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] 'he that thinks with more extent than another will want words of larger meaning.' _ante_, i. . [ ] in the original _island_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] in this censure which has been carelessly uttered, i carelessly joined. but in justice to dr. kippis, who with that manly candid good temper which marks his character, set me right, i now with pleasure retract it; and i desire it may be particularly observed, as pointed out by him to me, that 'the new lives of dissenting divines in the first four volumes of the second edition of the _biographia brittanica_, are those of john abernethy, thomas amory, george benson, hugh broughton the learned puritan, simon browne, joseph boyse of dublin, thomas cartwright the learned puritan, and samuel chandler. the only doubt i have ever heard suggested is, whether there should have been an article of dr. amory. but i was convinced, and am still convinced, that he was entitled to one, from the reality of his learning, and the excellent and candid nature of his practical writings. 'the new lives of clergymen of the church of england, in the same four volumes, are as follows: john balguy, edward bentham, george berkley bishop of cloyne, william berriman, thomas birch, william borlase, thomas bott, james bradley, thomas broughton, john brown, john burton, joseph butler bishop of durham, thomas carte, edmund castell, edmund chishull, charles churchill, william clarke, robert clayton bishop of clogher, john conybeare bishop of bristol, george costard, and samuel croxall.--"i am not conscious (says dr. kippis) of any partiality in conducting the work. i would not willingly insert a dissenting minister that does not justly deserve to be noticed, or omit an established clergyman that does. at the same time, i shall not be deterred from introducing dissenters into the _biographia_, when i am satisfied that they are entitled to that distinction, from their writings, learning, and merit."' let me add that the expression 'a friend to the constitution in church and state,' was not meant by me, as any reflection upon this reverend gentleman, as if he were an enemy to the political constitution of his country, as established at the revolution, but, from my steady and avowed predilection for a _tory_, was quoted from johnson's _dictionary_, where that distinction is so defined. boswell. in his _dictionary_ a _tory_ is defined as 'one who adheres to the ancient constitution of the state and the apostolical hierarchy of the church of england.' it was on the _biographia britannica_ that cowper wrote the lines that end:-- 'so when a child, as playful children use, has burnt to tinder a stale last year's news, the flame extinct he views the roving fire, there goes my lady, and there goes the squire, there goes the parson, oh! illustrious spark, and there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk.' cowper's works, viii. . horace walpole said that the '_biographia britannica_ ought rather to be called _vindicatio britannica_, for that it was a general panegyric upon everybody.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.' dryden's _absalom and achitophel_, , . [ ] _observations on insanity_, by thomas arnold, m.d., london, . boswell. [ ] we read in the gospels, that those unfortunate persons who were possessed with evil spirits (which, after all, i think is the most probable cause of madness, as was first suggested to me by my respectable friend sir john pringle), had recourse to pain, tearing themselves, and jumping sometimes into the fire, sometimes into the water. mr. seward has furnished me with a remarkable anecdote in confirmation of dr. johnson's observation. a tradesman, who had acquired a large fortune in london, retired from business, and went to live at worcester. his mind, being without its usual occupation, and having nothing else to supply its place, preyed upon itself, so that existence was a torment to him. at last he was seized with the stone; and a friend who found him in one of its severest fits, having expressed his concern, 'no, no, sir, (said he) don't pity me: what i now feel is ease compared with that torture of mind from which it relieves me.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . 'johnson was a great enemy to the present fashionable way of supposing worthless and infamous persons mad.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] 'reynolds,' writes malone, 'was as fond of london as dr. johnson; always maintaining that it was the only place in england where a pleasant society might be found.' prior's _malone_ p. . gibbon wrote to holroyd _misc. works_, ii :--'never pretend to allure me by painting in odious colours the dust of london. i love the dust, and whenever i move into the weald it is to visit you and my lady, and not your trees.' burke, on the other hand, wrote (_corres_. iii ):--'what is london? clean, commodious, neat; but, a very few things indeed excepted, and endless addition of littleness to littleness, extending itself over a great tract of land.' 'for a young man,' he says, 'for a man of easy fortune, london is the best place one can imagine. but for the old, the infirm, the straightened in fortune, the grave in character or in disposition, i do not believe a much worse place can be found.' _ib_. iv. . [ ] 'nescio qua natale solum dulcedine captos ducit, et immemores non sinit esse sui.' ovid, _ep. ex ponto_, i. . . [ ] 'in the morn and liquid dew of youth.' _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] now, at the distance of fifteen years since this conversation passed, the observation which i have had an opportunity of making in westminster hall has convinced me, that, however true the opinion of dr. johnson's legal friend may have been some time ago, the same certainty of success cannot now be promised to the same display of merit. the reasons, however, of the rapid rise of some, and the disappointment of others equally respectable, are such as it might seem invidious to mention, and would require a longer detail than would be proper for this work. boswell. boswell began to eat his dinners in the inner temple in . _ante_, p. note , and _letters of boswell_, p. . in writing to temple he thus mentions his career as a barrister. 'jan. , . in truth i am sadly discouraged by having no practice, nor probable prospect of it; and to confess fairly to you, my friend, i am afraid that, were i to be tried, i should be found so deficient in the forms, the _quirks_ and the _quiddities_, which early habit acquires, that i should expose myself. yet the delusion of westminster hall, of brilliant reputation and splendid fortune as a barrister, still weighs upon my imagination.' _ib_. p. . 'aug. , . the law life in scotland amongst vulgar familiarity would now quite destroy me. i am not able to acquire the law of england.' _ib_. p. . 'nov. , . i have given up my house and taken good chambers in the inner temple, to have the appearance of a lawyer. o temple! temple! is this realising any of the towering hopes which have so often been the subject of our conversations and letters? ... i do not see the smallest opening in westminster hall but i like the scene, though i have attended only one day this last term, being eager to get my _life of johnson_ finished.' _ib_. p. . 'april , . when my book is launched, i shall, if i am alone and in tolerable health and spirits, have some furniture put into my chambers in the temple, and force myself to sit there some hours a-day, and to attend regularly in westminster hall. the chambers cost me £ yearly, and i may reckon furniture and a lad to attend there occasionally £ more. i doubt whether i shall get fees equal to the expense.' _ib_. p. . 'nov. , . i keep chambers open in the temple, i attend in westminster hall, but there is not the least prospect of my having business.' _ib_. p. . his chambers, as he wrote to malone, were 'in the very staircase where johnson lived.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] sunday was the st. [ ] see _ante_, march , , and _post_, under nov. , . [ ] in _notes and queries_ for april, may, and june , is a series of johnson's letters to taylor, between june , and april , . in the first johnson signs himself:--'your very affectionate,' (p. ). on nov. , , he writes:--'neither of us now can find many whom he has known so long as we have known each other.... we both stand almost single in the world,' (p. ). on july , , he reproaches taylor with not writing:--'with all your building and feasting you might have found an hour in some wet day for the remembrance of your old friend. i should have thought that since you have led a life so festive and gay, you would have [invited] me to partake of your hospitality,' (p. ). on oct. , , he says:--'write to me soon. we are both old. how few of those whom we have known in our youth are left alive!' (p. ). on april , , he writes:--'let us be kind to one another. i have no friend now living but you and mr. hector that was the friend of my youth,' (p. , and _post_, april , ). see _ante_, p. , for his regret on the death of his school-fellow, henry jackson, who seemed to boswell (_ante_, under march , ) to be a low man, dull and untaught. 'one of the old man's miseries,' he wrote, (_post_, feb. , ), 'is that he cannot easily find a companion able to partake with him of the past.' 'i have none to call me charley now,' wrote charles lamb on the death of a friend of his boyhood (talfourd's _lamb_, ed. , p. ). such a companion johnson found in taylor. that, on the death of his wife, he at once sent for him, not even waiting for the light of morning to come, is a proof that he had a strong affection for the man. [ ] _ecclesiasticus_, ch. xxxviii. verse . the whole chapter may be read as an admirable illustration of the superiority of cultivated minds over the gross and illiterate. boswell. [ ] passages in johnson's letters to mrs. thrale are to the same effect. 'aug. , . having stayed my month with taylor i came away on wednesday, leaving him, i think, in a disposition of mind not very uncommon, at once weary of my stay, and grieved at my departure.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'july , . dr. taylor and i spend little time together, yet he will not yet be persuaded to hear of parting.' _ib_. p. . 'july , . having stayed long enough at ashbourne, i was not sorry to leave it. i hindered some of taylor's diversions, and he supplied me with very little.' _ib_ p. . [ ] the second volume of these sermons, which was published in , a year after the first, contains the following addition to the title:--'to which is added a sermon written by samuel johnson, l.l.d., for the funeral of his wife.' 'dr. taylor had,' writes murphy (_life_, p. ), 'the largest bull in england, and some of the best sermons.' [ ] if the eminent judge was lord mansfield, we may compare with boswell's regret the lines in which pope laments the influence of westminster hall and parliament:-- 'there truant windham every muse gave o'er, there talbot sunk, and was a wit no more. how sweet an ovid, murray was our boast! how many martials were in pulteney lost!' _the dunciad_, iv. . [ ] boswell's brother david had been settled in spain since . (_boswelliana_, p. .) he therefore is no doubt the son, and lord auchinleck the father. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] 'jack' had not shown all his manners to johnson. gibbon thus describes him in (_misc. works_, i. ):--'colonel wilkes, of the buckinghamshire militia, dined with us. i scarcely ever met with a better companion; he has inexhaustible spirits, infinite wit and humour, and a great deal of knowledge; but a thorough profligate in principle as in practice, his life stained with every vice, and his conversation full of blasphemy and indecency. these morals he glories in--for shame is a weakness he has long since surmounted.' the following anecdote in _boswelliana_ (p. ) is not given in the _life of johnson_:--'johnson had a sovereign contempt for wilkes and his party, whom he looked upon as a mere rabble. "sir," said he, "had wilkes's mob prevailed against government, this nation had died of _phthiriasis_. mr. langton told me this. the expression, _morbus pediculosus_, as being better known would strike more."' [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, under sept. , . [ ] see _post, ib_., where johnson told mrs. siddons that 'garrick was no declaimer.' [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_, ii. ) says that she once asked garrick 'why johnson was so often harsh and unkind in his speeches both of him and to him:--"why," he replied, "it is very natural; is it not to be expected he should be angry that i, who have so much less merit than he, should have had so much greater success?"' [ ] foote died a month after this conversation. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'did you see foote at brighthelmstone? did you think he would so soon be gone? life, says falstaff, is a shuttle [_merry wives of windsor_, act v. sc. ]. he was a fine fellow in his way; and the world is really impoverished by his sinking glories. murphy ought to write his life, at least to give the world a _footeana_. now will any of his contemporaries bewail him? will genius change _his sex_ to weep? i would really have his life written with diligence.' this letter is wrongly dated oct. , . it was written early in november. _piozzi letters_, i. . baretti, in a marginal note on _footeana_, says:--'one half of it had been a string of obscenities.' see _post_, april , , note. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] _to pit_ is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] very likely mr. langton. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] two months earlier johnson had complained that langton's table was rather coarse. _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , , where he again mentions this advice. 'he said of a certain lady's entertainments, "what signifies going thither? there is neither meat, drink, nor talk."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] william, third duke of devonshire, who died in . johnson (_post_, april , ) 'commended him for a dogged veracity.' horace walpole records of him a fact that 'showed a conscientious idea of honesty in him. sometime before his death he had given up to two of his younger sons £ a-year in land, that they might not perjure themselves, if called upon to swear to their qualifications as knights of the shire.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, ii. . [ ] philip francis wrote to burke in :--'once for all, i wish you would let me teach you to write english. to me who am to read everything you write, it would be a great comfort, and to you no sort of disparagement. why will you not allow yourself to be persuaded that polish is material to preservation?' burke's _corres_, iii. . [ ] edit. , p. . boswell. [ ] this is a mistake. the ports had been seated at islam time out of mind. congreve had visited there, and his _seat_, that is _the bench_ on which he sometimes sat, used to be shown. croker. on the way to islam, johnson told boswell about the dedication of his _plan_ to lord chesterfield. _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'i believe more places than one are still shown in groves and gardens where he is related to have written his _old bachelor_.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] page . boswell. [ ] see plott's _history of staffordshire_, p. , and the authorities referred to by him. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, march , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] mrs. piozzi records (_anec_. p. ):--'in answer to the arguments urged by puritans, quakers, etc. against showy decorations of the human figure, i once heard him exclaim:--"oh, let us not be found, when our master calls us, ripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and tongues! ... alas! sir, a man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one."' see _ante_, i, . [ ] campbell, who was an exciseman, had in july, , caught a favourite servant of lord eglintoune in smuggling gallons of rum in one of his master's carts. this, he maintains, led to an ill-feeling. he had a right to carry a gun by virtue of his office, and from many of the gentry he had licences to shoot over their grounds. his lordship, however, had forbidden him to enter his. on oct. , , he passed into his grounds, and walked along the shore within the sea-mark, looking for a plover. lord eglintoune came up with him on the sea-sands and demanded his gun, advancing as if to seize it. campbell warned him that he would fire if he did not keep off, and kept retiring backwards or sideways. he stumbled and fell. lord eglintoune stopped a little, and then made as if he would advance. campbell thereupon fired, and hit him in the side. he was found guilty of murder. on the day after the trial he hanged himself in prison. _ann. reg_. xiii. . see _ante_, ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] _see ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell here alludes to the motto of his journal:-- 'oh! while along the stream of time thy name expanded flies, and gathers all its fame; say, shall my little bark attendant sail, pursue the triumph, and partake the gale?' pope's _essay on man_, iv. . [ ] 'his listless length at noontide would he stretch, and pore upon the brook that babbles by.' gray's _elegy_. [ ] johnson, a fortnight or so later, mentions this waterfall in a letter to mrs. thrale, after speaking of a pool that mr. thrale was having dug. 'he will have no waterfall to roar like the doctor's. i sat by it yesterday, and read erasmus's _militis christiani enchiridion_.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, april and , . at the following easter he recorded: 'my memory is less faithful in retaining names, and, i am afraid, in retaining occurrences.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] i am told that horace, earl of orford, has a collection of _bon-mots_ by persons who never said but one. boswell. horace walpole had succeeded to his title after the publication of the first edition of this book. [ ] see macaulay's _essays_, i. . [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) tells how 'rochester lived worthless and useless, and blazed out his youth and his health in lavish voluptuousness; till, at the age of one and thirty, he had exhausted the fund of life, and reduced himself to a state of weakness and decay.' he describes how burnet 'produced a total change both of his manners and opinions,' and says of the book in which this conversion is recounted that it is one 'which the critick ought to read for its elegance, the philosopher for its arguments, and the saint for its piety.' in johnson's answer to boswell we have a play on the title of this work, which is, _some passages of the life and death of john earl of rochester_. [ ] in the passages from johnson's _life of prior_, quoted _ante_, ii. , note , may be found an explanation of what he here says. a poet who 'tries to be amorous by dint of study,' and who 'in his amorous pedantry exhibits the college,' may be gross and yet not excite to lewdness. goldsmith, in , in a book entitled _beauties of english poetry selected_, had inserted two of prior's tales, 'which for once interdicted from general reading a book with his name upon its title-page.' mr. forster hereupon remarks 'on the changes in the public taste. nothing is more frequent than these, and few things so sudden.' of these changes he gives some curious instances. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] horace, _odes_, ii. . [ ] i am informed by mr. langton, that a great many years ago he was present when this question was agitated between dr. johnson and mr. burke; and, to use johnson's phrase, they 'talked their best;' johnson for homer, burke for virgil. it may well be supposed to have been one of the ablest and most brilliant contests that ever was exhibited. how much must we regret that it has not been preserved. boswell. johnson (_works_, vii. ), after saying that dryden 'undertook perhaps the most arduous work of its kind, a translation of virgil,' continues:--'in the comparison of homer and virgil, the discriminative excellence of homer is elevation and comprehension of thought, and that of virgil is grace and splendour of diction. the beauties of homer are therefore difficult to be lost, and those of virgil difficult to be retained.' mr. e.j. payne, in his edition of burke's _select works_, i. xxxviii, says:-- 'most writers have constantly beside them some favourite classical author from whom they endeavour to take their prevailing tone. burke, according to butler, always had a "ragged delphin _virgil_" not far from his elbow.' see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , note. [ ] according to sir joshua reynolds, 'mr. burke, speaking of bacon's _essays_, said he thought them the best of his works. dr. johnson was of opinion that their excellence and their value consisted in being the observations of a strong mind operating upon life; and in consequence you find there what you seldom find in other books.' northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] mr. seward perhaps imperfectly remembered the following passage in the _preface to the dictionary_ (_works_, v. ):--'from the authors which rose in the time of elizabeth, a speech might be formed adequate to all the purposes of use and elegance. if the language of theology were extracted from hooker and the translation of the bible; the terms of natural knowledge from bacon; the phrases of policy, war, and navigation from raleigh; the dialect of poetry and fiction from spenser and sidney; and the diction of common life from shakespeare, few ideas would be lost to mankind for want of english words in which they might be expressed.' [ ] of mallet's _life of bacon_, johnson says (_works_, viii. ) that it is 'written with elegance, perhaps with some affectation; but with so much more knowledge of history than of science, that when he afterwards undertook the _life of marlborough_, warburton remarked, that he might perhaps forget that marlborough was a general, as he had forgotten that bacon was a philosopher.' [ ] it appears from part of the original journal in mr. anderdon's papers that the friend who told the story was mr. beauclerk and the gentleman and lady alluded to were mr. (probably henry) and miss harvey. croker. not harvey but hervey. see _ante_, i. , and ii. , for another story told by beauclerk against johnson of mr. thomas hervey. [ ] johnson, in his _dictionary_, gives as the th meaning of _make, to raise as profit from anything_. he quotes the speech of pompey in _measure for measure_, act iv. sc. :--'he made five marks, ready money.' but pompey, he might reply, was a servant, and his english therefore is not to be taken as a standard. [ ] _idea_ he defines as _mental imagination_. [ ] see _post_, may , , note. [ ] in the first three editions of boswell we find _tadnor_ for _tadmor_. in dodsley's _collection_, iv. , the last couplet is as follows:-- 'or tadmor's marble wastes survey, or in yon roofless cloister stray.' [ ] this is the tune that william crotch (dr. crotch) was heard playing before he was two years and a half old, on a little organ that his father, a carpenter, had made. _ann. reg_. xxii . [ ] see _ante_, under dec. , . [ ] in two battalions of highlanders were raised and sent to north america. _gent. mag_. xxvii. , . boswell (_hebrides_, sept. , ) mentions 'the regiments which the late lord chatham prided himself in having brought from "the mountains of the north."' chatham said in the house of lords on dec. , :--'i remember that i employed the very rebels in the service and defence of their country. they were reclaimed by this means; they fought our battles; they cheerfully bled in defence of those liberties which they attempted to overthrow but a few years before.' _parl. hist_. xix. . [ ] 'yet hope not life from grief or danger free, nor think the doom of man reversed for thee.' line . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . boswell, when a widower, wrote to temple of a lady whom he seemed not unwilling to marry:--'she is about seven-and-twenty, and he [sir william scott] tells me lively and gay-- _a ranelagh girl_--but of excellent principles, insomuch that she reads prayers to the servants in her father's family every sunday evening.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] pope mentions [_dunciad_, iv. ], 'stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair.' but i recollect a couplet quite apposite to my subject in _virtue an ethick epistle_, a beautiful and instructive poem, by an anonymous writer, in ; who, treating of pleasure in excess, says:-- 'till languor, suffering on the rack of bliss, confess that man was never made for this.' boswell. [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'for i bear them record that they have a zeal of god, but not according to knowledge.' _romans_, x. . [ ] horace walpole wrote:--'feb. , . caribs, black caribs, have no representatives in parliament; they have no agent but god, and he is seldom called to the bar of the house to defend their cause.' walpole's _letters_, v. . 'feb. , . 'if all the black slaves were in rebellion, i should have no doubt in choosing my side, but i scarce wish perfect freedom to merchants who are the bloodiest of all tyrants. i should think the souls of the africans would sit heavy on the swords of the americans.' _ib_. vi. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] 'we are told that the subjection of americans may tend to the diminution of our own liberties; an event which none but very perspicacious politicians are able to foresee. if slavery be thus fatally contagious, how is it that we hear,' etc. _works_, vi. . in his _life of milton_ (_ib_. vii. ) he says:--'it has been observed that they who most loudly clamour for liberty do not most liberally grant it.' [ ] see page of this volume. boswell. [ ] the address was delivered on may , . the editor of _rogers's table talk_ quotes, on p. , mr. maltby, the friend of rogers, who says:--'dr. c. burney assured me that beckford did not utter one syllable of the speech--that it was wholly the invention of horne tooke. being very intimate with tooke, i questioned him on the subject. "what burney states," he said, "is true. i saw beckford just after he came from st. james's. i asked him what he had said to the king; and he replied, that he had been so confused, he scarcely knew what he had said. but, cried i, _your speech_ must be sent to the papers; i'll write it for you. i did so immediately, and it was printed forthwith."' tooke gave the same account to isaac reed. walpole's _letters_, v. , note. stephens (_life of horne tooke_, i. - ) says, that the king's answer had been anticipated and that horne had suggested the idea of a reply. stephens continues:--'the speech in reply, as mr. horne lately acknowledged to me, was his composition.' stephens does not seem to have heard the story that beckford did not deliver the reply. he says that horne inserted the account in the newspapers. 'no one,' he continues, 'was better calculated to give copies of those harangues than the person who had furnished the originals; and as to the occurrences at st. james's, he was enabled to detail the particulars from the lips of the members of the deputation.' alderman townshend assured lord chatham that beckford did deliver the speech. _chatham corres_. iii. . horne tooke's word is not worth much. he did not resign his living till more than seven years after he wrote to wilkes:--'it is true i have suffered the infectious hand of a bishop to be waved over me; whose imposition, like the sop given to judas, is only a signal for the devil to enter.' stephens's _horne tooke_, i. . beckford, dying in his mayoralty, is oddly connected with chatterton. 'chatterton had written a political essay for _the north briton_, which, though accepted, was not printed on account of lord mayor beckford's death. the patriot thus calculated the death of his great patron:-- £ s. d. lost by his death in this essay gained in elegies £ . in essays £ . ---- ------------- am glad he is dead by £ d'israeli's _calamities of authors_, i. . [ ] at the time that johnson wrote this there were serfs in scotland. an act passed in ( geo. iii. c. ) contains the following preamble:--'whereas by the law of scotland, as explained by the judges of the courts of law there, many colliers and salters are in a state of slavery and bondage, bound to the collieries or saltworks where they work for life, transferable with the coalwork and salteries,' etc. the act was ineffectual in giving relief, and in by geo. iii. c. all colliers were 'declared to be free from their servitude.' the last of these emancipated slaves died in the year . _tranent and its surroundings_, by p. m'neill, p. . see also _parl. hist_. xxix. , where dundas states that it was only 'after several years' struggle that the bill was carried through both houses.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'the utopians do not make slaves of the sons of their slaves; the slaves among them are such as are condemned to that state of life for the commission of some crime.' sir t. more's _utopia--ideal commonwealths_, p. . [ ] the rev. john newton (cowper's friend) in wrote of the slave-trade, in which he had been engaged, 'it is indeed accounted a genteel employment, and is usually very profitable, though to me it did not prove so, the lord seeing that a large increase of wealth could not be good for me.' newton's _life_, p. . a ruffian of a london alderman, a few weeks before _the life of johnson_ was published, said in parliament:--'the abolition of the trade would destroy our newfoundland fishery, which the slaves in the west indies supported _by consuming that part of the fish which was fit for no other consumption_, and consequently, by cutting off the great source of seamen, annihilate our marine.' _parl. hist_. xxix. . [ ] gray's elegy. mrs. piozzi maintained that 'mercy was totally abolished by french maxims; for, if all men are equal, mercy is no more.' piozzi's _synonymy_, i. . johnson, in , described slavery as 'the most calamitous estate in human life,' a state 'which has always been found so destructive to virtue, that in many languages a slave and a thief are expressed by the same word.' _works_, v. - . nineteen years later he wrote of the discoveries of the portuguese:--'much knowledge has been acquired, and much cruelty been committed; the belief of religion has been very little propagated, and its laws have been outrageously and enormously violated.' _ib_. p. . horace walpole wrote, on july , , (_letters_, ii. ), 'i was reading t'other day the _life of colonel codrington_. he left a large estate for the propagation of the gospel, and ordered that three hundred negroes should constantly be employed upon it. did one ever hear a more truly christian charity than keeping up a perpetuity of three hundred slaves to look after the gospel's estate?' churchill, in _gotham_, published in (_poems_, ii. ), says of europe's treatment of the savage race:-- 'faith too she plants, for her own ends imprest, to make them bear the worst, and hope the best.' [ ] 'with stainless lustre virtue shines, a base repulse nor knows nor fears; nor claims her honours, nor declines, as the light air of crowds uncertain veers.' francis. horace _odes_, iii. . [ ] sir walter scott, in a note to _redgauntlet_, letter , says:-- 'sir john nisbett of dirleton's _doubts and questions upon the law especially of scotland_, and sir james stewart's _dirleton's doubts and questions resolved and answered_, are works of authority in scottish jurisprudence. as is generally the case, the _doubts_ are held more in respect than the solution.' [ ] when boswell first made johnson's acquaintance it was he who suffered from the late hours. _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] burke, in _present discontents_, says:--'the power of the crown, almost dead and rotten as prerogative, has grown up anew, with much more strength and far less odium, under the name of influence.' _influence_ he explains as 'the method of governing by men of great natural interest or great acquired consideration.' payne's _burke_, i. , . 'influence,' said johnson,' must ever be in proportion to property; and it is right it should.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . to political life might be applied what johnson wrote of domestic life:--'it is a maxim that no man ever was enslaved by influence while he was fit to be free.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . [ ] boswell falls into what he calls 'the cant transmitted from age to age in praise of the ancient romans.' _ante_, i. . to do so with johnson was at once to provoke an attack, for he looked upon the roman commonwealth as one 'which grew great only by the misery of the rest of mankind.' _ib_. moreover he disliked appeals to history. 'general history,' writes murphy (_life_, p. ), 'had little of his regard. biography was his delight. sooner than hear of the punic war he would be rude to the person that introduced the subject.' mrs. piozzi says (_anec_. p. ) that 'no kind of conversation pleased him less, i think, than when the subject was historical fact or general polity. 'what shall we learn from _that_ stuff?' said he. 'he never,' as he expressed it, 'desired to hear of the _punic war_ while he lived.' the _punic war_, it is clear, was a kind of humorous catch word with him. she wrote to him in :--'so here's modern politics in a letter from me; yes and a touch of the _punic war_ too.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he wrote to her in , just after she had been at the first regatta held in england:--'you will now find the advantage of having made one at the regatta.... it is the good of public life that it supplies agreeable topics and general conversation. therefore wherever you are, and whatever you see, talk not of the punic war; nor of the depravity of human nature; nor of the slender motives of human actions; nor of the difficulty of finding employment or pleasure; but talk, and talk, and talk of the regatta.' _ib_. p. . he was no doubt sick of the constant reference made by writers and public speakers to rome. for instance, in bolingbroke's _dissertation upon parties_, we find in three consecutive letters (xi-xiii) five illustrations drawn from rome. [ ] it is strange that boswell does not mention that on this day they met the duke and duchess of argyle in the street. that they did so we learn from _piozzi letters_, i. . perhaps the duchess shewed him 'the same marked coldness' as at inverary. boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] at auchinleck he had 'exhorted boswell to plant assiduously.' boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . in scotland it was cocker's _arithmetic_ that he took with him. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . he was not always correct in his calculations. for instance, he wrote to mrs. thrale from ashbourne less than a fortnight after boswell's departure: 'mr. langdon bought at nottingham fair fifteen tun of cheese; which, at an ounce a-piece, will suffice after dinner for four-hundred-and-eighty thousand men.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . to arrive at this number he must have taken a hundredweight as equal to, not , but , pounds. [ ] johnson wrote the next day:--'boswell is gone, and is, i hope, pleased that he has been here; though to look on anything with pleasure is not very common. he has been gay and good-humoured in his usual way, but we have not agreed upon any other expedition.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] he lent him also the original journal of his _hebrides_, and received in return a complimentary letter, which he in like manner published. boswell's _hebrides_, near the end. [ ] 'the landlord at ellon said that he heard he was the greatest man in england, next to lord mansfield.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, under march , , where johnson says that 'truth is essential to a story.' [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'boswell kept his journal very diligently; but then what was there to journalize? i should be glad to see what he says of *********.' _piozzi letters_, i. . the number of stars renders it likely that beauclerk is meant. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mr. beauclerk. see _ante_, p. . [ ] beauclerk. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'boswell says his wife does not love me quite well yet, though we have made a formal peace.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] a daughter born to him. boswell. mr. croker says that this daughter was miss jane langton, mentioned post, may , . [ ] she had already had eleven children, of whom seven were by this time dead. _ante_, p. . this time a daughter was born, and not a young brewer. _post_, july , . [ ] three months earlier johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'we are not far from the great year of a hundred thousand barrels, which, if three shillings be gained upon each barrel, will bring us fifteen thousand pounds a year.' _piozzi letters_, i. . we may see how here, as elsewhere, he makes himself almost one with the thrales. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mrs. aston. boswell. [ ] see _state trials_, vol. xi. p. , and mr. hargrave's argument. boswell. see _ante_, p. . [ ] the motto to it was happily chosen:-- 'quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses.' i cannot avoid mentioning a circumstance no less strange than true, that a brother advocate in considerable practice, but of whom it certainly cannot be said, _ingenuas didicit fideliter artes_, asked mr. maclaurin, with a face of flippant assurance, 'are these words your own?' boswell. sir walter scott shows where the humour of this motto chiefly lay. 'the counsel opposite,' he writes, 'was the celebrated wight, an excellent lawyer, but of very homely appearance, with heavy features, a blind eye which projected from its socket, a swag belly, and a limp. to him maclaurin applied the lines of virgil:-- 'quamvis ille niger, quamvis tu candidus esses, o formose puer, nimium ne crede colori.' ['though he was black, and thou art heavenly fair, trust not too much to that enchanting face.' dryden. virgil, _eclogues_, ii. .] mr. maclaurin wrote an essay against the homeric tale of 'troy divine,' i believe, for the sole purpose of introducing a happy motto,-- 'non anni domuere decem non mille carinæ.' [�neid, ii. .] croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] there is, no doubt, some malice in this second mention of dundas's scottish accent (see _ante_, ii. ). boswell complained to temple in that dundas had not behaved well to himself or his brother david. 'the fact is, he writes, 'on david's being obliged to quit spain on account of the war, dundas promised to my father that he would give him an office. some time after my father's death, dundas renewed the assurance to me in strong terms, and told me he had said to lord caermarthen, "it is a deathbed promise, and i must fulfil it." yet david has now been kept waiting above eight years, when he might have established himself again in trade.... this is cruel usage.' boswell adds:--'i strongly suspect dundas has given pitt a prejudice against me. the excellent langton says it is disgraceful; it is utter folly in pitt not to reward and attach to his administration a man of my popular and pleasant talents, whose merit he has acknowledged in a letter under his own hand.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] knight was kidnapped when a child and sold to a mr. wedderburne of ballandean, who employed him as his personal servant. in his master brought him to britain, and from that time allowed him sixpence a week for pocket money. by the assistance of his fellow-servants he learnt to read. in he read in a newspaper the report of the decision in the somerset case. 'from that time,' said mr. ferguson, 'he had had it in his head to leave his master's service.' in he married a fellow-servant, and finding sixpence a week insufficient for married life, applied for ordinary wages. this request being refused, he signified his intention of seeking service elsewhere. on his master's petition to the justices of peace of perthshire, he was brought before them on a warrant; they decided that he must continue with him as formerly. for some time he continued accordingly; but a child being born to him, he petitioned the sheriff, who decided in his favour. he thereupon left the house of his master, who removed the cause into the court of session.' ferguson maintained that there are 'many examples of greater servitude in this country [scotland] than that claimed by the defender, i.e. [mr. wedderburne, the plaintiff]. there still exists a species of perpetual servitude, which is supported by late statutes and by daily practice, viz. that which takes place with regard to the coaliers and sailers, where, from the single circumstance of entering to work after puberty, they are bound to perpetual service, and sold along with the works.' ferguson's _additional information_, july , , pp. ; ; and maclaurin's _additional information_, april , , p. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] florence wilson accompanied, as tutor, cardinal wolsey's nephew to paris, and published at lyons in his _de tranquillitate animi dialogus_. rose's _biog. dict_. xii. . [ ] when johnson visited boswell in edinburgh, mrs. boswell 'insisted that, to show all respect to the sage, she would give up her own bed-chamber to him, and take a worse.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, dec. , . [ ] fielding, in his _voyage to lisbon_ (p. ), writes of him as 'my friend mr. welch, whom i never think or speak of but with love and esteem.' see _post_, under march , . [ ] johnson defines _police_ as _the regulation and government of a city or country, so far as regards the inhabitants_. [ ] at this time under-secretary of state. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] fielding, after telling how, unlike his predecessor, he had not plundered the public or the poor, continues:--'i had thus reduced an income of about £ a-year of the dirtiest money upon earth to little more than £ ; a considerable proportion of which remained with my clerk.' he added that he 'received from the government a yearly pension out of the public service money.' _voyage to lisbon_, introduction. [ ] the friendship between mr. welch and him was unbroken. mr. welch died not many months before him, and bequeathed him five guineas for a ring, which johnson received with tenderness, as a kind memorial. his regard was constant for his friend mr. welch's daughters; of whom, jane is married to mr. nollekens the statuary, whose merit is too well known to require any praise from me. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . it seems from boswell's words, as the editor of the _letters of boswell_ (p. ) points out, that in this case he was 'only a friend and amateur, and not a duly appointed advocate.' he certainly was not retained in an earlier stage of the cause, for on july , , he wrote:--'though i am not a counsel in that cause, yet i am much interested in it.' _ib_. p. . [ ] dr. percy, the bishop of dromore, humorously observed, that levett used to breakfast on the crust of a roll, which johnson, after tearing out the crumb for himself, threw to his humble friend. boswell. perhaps the word _threw_ is here too strong. dr. johnson never treated levett with contempt. malone. hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'dr. johnson frequently observed that levett was indebted to him for nothing more than house-room, his share in a penny loaf at breakfast, and now and then a dinner on a sunday.' johnson's roll, says dr. harwood, was every morning placed in a small blue and white china saucer which had belonged to his wife, and which he familiarly called 'tetty.' see the inscription on the saucer in the lichfield museum. [ ] see this subject discussed in a subsequent page, under may , . boswell. [ ] on feb. , lord north 'made his conciliatory propositions.' _parl. hist_. xix. . [ ] see _ante_, ii . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] alluding to a line in his _vanity of human wishes_, describing cardinal wolsey in his state of elevation:-- 'through him the rays of regal bounty shine.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'in my mind's eye, horatio.' _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] mr. langton. see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] daughter of dr. swinfen, johnson's godfather, and widow of mr. desmoulins, a writing-master. boswell. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. montagu on march :--'now, dear madam, we must talk of business. poor davies, the bankrupt bookseller, is soliciting his friends to collect a small sum for the repurchase of part of his household stuff. several of them gave him five guineas. it would be an honour to him to owe part of his relief to mrs. montagu.' croker's _boswell_, p. . j. d'israeli says (_calamities of authors_, i. ):--'we owe to davies beautiful editions of some of our elder poets, which are now eagerly sought after; yet, though all his publications were of the best kinds, and are now of increasing value, the taste of tom davies twice ended in bankruptcy.' see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . davies wrote to garrick in :--'i remember that during the run of _cymbeline_ i had the misfortune to disconcert you in one scene of that play, for which i did immediately beg your pardon, and did attribute it to my accidentally seeing mr. churchill in the pit, with great truth; and that was the only time i can recollect of my being confused or unmindful of my business when that gentleman was before me. i had even then a more moderate opinion of my abilities than your candour would allow me, and have always acknowledged that gentleman's picture of me was fair.' he adds that he left the stage on account of garrick's unkindness, 'who,' he says, 'at rehearsals took all imaginable pains to make me unhappy.' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] he was afterwards solicitor-general under lord rockingham and attorney-general under the duke of portland. 'i love mr. lee exceedingly,' wrote boswell, 'though i believe there are not any two specifick propositions of any sort in which we exactly agree. but the general mass of sense and sociality, literature and religion, in each of us, produces two given quantities, which unite and effervesce wonderfully well. i know few men i would go farther to serve than jack lee.' _letter to the people of scotland_, p. . lord eldon said that lee, in the debates upon the india bill, speaking of the charter of the east india company, 'expressed his surprise that there could be such political strife about what he called "a piece of parchment, with a bit of wax dangling to it." this most improvident expression uttered by a crown lawyer formed the subject of comment and reproach in all the subsequent debates, in all publications of the times, and in everybody's conversation.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . in the debate on fox's india bill on dec. , , lee 'asked what was the consideration of a charter, a skin of parchment with a waxed seal at the corner, compared to the happiness of thirty millions of subjects, and the preservation of a mighty empire.' _parl. hist_. xxiv. . see twiss's _eldon_, i. - , and , for anecdotes of lee; and _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'for now we see _through_ a glass darkly; but then face to face.' i _corinthians_, xiii. . [ ] goldsmith notices this in the _haunch of venison_:-- my friend bade me welcome, but struck me quite dumb with tidings that johnson and burke would not come; for i knew it (he cried), both eternally fail, the one with his speeches, and _t'other with thrale_.' croker. see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, april , . 'johnson said:--"he who praises everybody praises nobody."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] see ante, p. . [ ] johnson wrote in july :--'everybody says the prospect of harvest is uncommonly delightful; but this has been so long the summer talk, and has been so often contradicted by autumn, that i do not suffer it to lay much hold on my mind. our gay prospects have now for many years together ended in melancholy retrospects.' _piozzi letters_, i. . on aug. , , he wrote:--'amidst all these little things there is one great thing. the harvest is abundant, and the weather _à la merveille_. no season ever was finer.' _ib_. p. . in this month of march, , wheat was selling at s. d. the bushel in london; at s. d. in somerset; and at s. d. in northumberland, suffolk, and sussex. _gent. mag_. xlviii. . the average price for was s. d. _ann. reg_. xxi. . [ ] see _post_, iii. , oct. , , and april , . [ ] the first edition was in . between that period and , according to this account, there were editions. but this is very improbable. malone. malone assumes, as mr. croker points out, that this rate of publication continued to the year . but after all, the difference is trifling. johnson here forgot to use his favourite cure for exaggeration--counting. see _post_, april , . 'round numbers,' he said, 'are always false.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ), after making a calculation, writes:--'i may err in my calculations, for i am a woeful arithmetician; but no matter, one large sum is as good as another.' [ ] the original passage is: 'si non potes te talem facere, qualem vis, quomodo poteris alium ad tuum habere beneplacitum?' _de imit. christ_. lib. i. cap. xvi. j. boswell, jun. [ ] see p. of this vol. boswell. [ ] since this was written the attainder has been reversed; and nicholas barnewall is now a peer of ireland with this title. the person mentioned in the text had studied physick, and prescribed _gratis_ to the poor. hence arose the subsequent conversation. malone. [ ] see franklin's _autobiography_ for his conversion from vegetarianism. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson advised boswell to keep a journal. 'the great thing to be recorded, is the state of your own mind.' [ ] 'nobody can live long without knowing that falsehoods of convenience or vanity, falsehoods from which no evil immediately visible ensues, except the general degradation of human testimony, are very lightly uttered, and, once uttered, are sullenly supported.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] _literary magazine_, , p. . boswell. johnson's _works_, vi. . see _post_, oct. , . [ ] 'quodcunque ostendis mihi sic incredulus odi.' 'for while upon such monstrous scenes we gaze, they shock our faith, our indignation raise.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. . . johnson speaks of 'the natural desire of man to propagate a wonder.' _works_, vii. . 'wonders,' he says, 'are willingly told, and willingly heard.' _ib_. viii. . speaking of voltaire he says:--'it is the great failing of a strong imagination to catch greedily at wonders.' _ib_. vi. . see _ante_, i. , note , ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . according to mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) hogarth said:--'johnson, though so wise a fellow, is more like king david than king solomon; for he says in his haste that all men are liars.' [ ] the following plausible but over-prudent counsel on this subject is given by an italian writer, quoted by '_rhedi de generatione insectarum_,' with the epithet of '_divini poetæ_:' '_sempre a quel ver ch'ha faccia di menzogna dee l'uom chiuder le labbra quanto ei puote; però che senza colpa fa vergogna_.' boswell. it is strange that boswell should not have discovered that these lines were from dante. the following is wright's translation:-- 'that truth which bears the semblance of a lie, should never pass the lips, if possible; tho' crime be absent, still disgrace is nigh.' _infern_. xvi. . croker. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'of john wesley he said:--"he can talk well on any subject."' _post_, april , . southey says that 'his manners were almost irresistibly winning, and his cheerfulness was like perpetual sunshine.' _life of wesley_, i. . wesley recorded on dec. , (_journal_, iv. ):--'i spent two hours with that great man dr. johnson, who is sinking into the grave by a gentle decay.' [ ] 'when you met him in the street of a crowded city, he attracted notice, not only by his band and cassock, and his long hair white and bright as silver, but by his pace and manner, both indicating that all his minutes were numbered, and that not one was to be lost. "though i am always in haste," he says of himself, "i am never in a hurry; because i never undertake any more work than i can go through with perfect calmness of spirit."' southey's _wesley_, ii. . [ ] no doubt the literary club. see _ante_, ii. , . mr. croker says 'that it appears by the books of the club that the company on that evening consisted of dr. johnson president, mr. burke, mr. boswell, dr. george fordyce, mr. gibbon, dr. johnson (again named), sir joshua reynolds, lord upper ossory, and mr. r. b. sheridan.' e. no doubt stands for edmund burke, and j. for joshua reynolds. who are meant by the other initials cannot be known. mr. croker hazards some guesses; but he says that sir james mackintosh and chalmers were as dubious as himself. [ ] see langhorne's _plutarch_, ed. , ii. . [ ] 'a man came in balancing a straw upon his nose, and the audience were clapping their hands in all the raptures of applause.' _the citizen of the world_, letter xxi. according to davis (_life of garrick_, i. ), 'in one year, after paying all expenses, £ , were the produce of mr. maddocks (the straw-man's agility), added to the talents of the players at covent garden theatre.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'sir' said edwards to johnson (_post_, april , ), 'i remember you would not let us say _prodigious_ at college.' [ ] 'emigration was at this time a common topick of discourse. dr. johnson regretted it as hurtful to human happiness.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] in johnson wrote a paper (first published in ) to prove that 'the bounty upon corn has produced plenty.' 'the truth of these principles,' he says, 'our ancestors discovered by reason, and the french have now found it by experience. in this regulation we have the honour of being masters to those who, in commercial policy, have been long accounted the masters of the world.' _works_, v. , , and _ante_, i. . 'in was granted the parliamentary bounty upon the exportation of corn. the country gentlemen had felt that the money price of corn was falling. the bounty was an expedient to raise it artificially to the high price at which it had frequently been sold in the times of charles i. and ii.' smith's _wealth of nations_, book i. c. xi. the year , the last year of peace before the great war, was likewise the last year of exportation. _penny cyclo_. viii. . [ ] 'though fraught with all learning, yet straining his throat to persuade tommy townshend to lend him a vote.' goldsmith's _retaliation_. horace walpole says of lord mansfield's speech on the _habeas corpus bill_ of :--'perhaps it was the only speech that in my time at least had real effect; that is, convinced many persons.' _reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] gibbon, who was now a member of parliament, was present at this dinner. in his _autobiography_ (_misc. works_, i. ) he says:--'after a fleeting illusive hope, prudence condemned me to acquiesce in the humble station of a mute.... timidity was fortified by pride, and even the success of my pen discouraged the trial of my voice. but i assisted at the debates of a free assembly; i listened to the attack and defence of eloquence and reason; i had a near prospect of the character, views, and passions of the first men of the age.... the eight sessions that i sat in parliament were a school of civil prudence, the first and most essential virtue of an historian.' [ ] horace, _odes_, iii. , . [ ] lord bolingbroke, who, however detestable as a metaphysician, must be allowed to have had admirable talents as a political writer, thus describes the house of commons, in his 'letter to sir william wyndham:' --'you know the nature of that assembly; they grow, like hounds, fond of the man who shews them game, and by whose halloo they are used to be encouraged.' boswell. bolingbroke's _works_, i. . [ ] smollett says (_journey_, i. ) that he had a musquetoon which could carry eight balls. 'this piece did not fail to attract the curiosity and admiration of the people in every place through which we passed. the carriage no sooner halted than a crowd surrounded the man to view the blunderbuss, which they dignified with the name of _petit canon_. at nuys in burgundy, he fired it in the air, and the whole mob dispersed, and scampered off like a flock of sheep.' [ ] smollett does not say that he frightened the nobleman. he mistook him for a postmaster and spoke to him very roughly. the nobleman seems to have been good-natured; for, at the next stage, says smollett, 'observing that one of the trunks behind was a little displaced, he assisted my servant in adjusting it.' his name and rank were learnt later on. _journey_, i. p. . [ ] the two things did not happen in the same town. 'i am sure, writes thicknesse (_travels_, ii. ), 'there was but that single french nobleman in this mighty kingdom, who would have submitted to such insults as the doctor _says_ he treated him with; nor any other town but sens [it was nuys] where the firing of a gun would have so terrified the inhabitants.' [ ] both smollett and thicknesse were great grumblers. [ ] lord bolingbroke said of lord oxford:--'he is naturally inclined to believe the worst, which i take to be a certain mark of a mean spirit and a wicked soul; at least i am sure that the contrary quality, when it is not due to weakness of understanding, is the fruit of a generous temper and an honest heart.' bolingbroke's _works_, i. . lord eldon asked pitt, not long before his death, what he thought of the honesty of mankind. 'his answer was, that he had a favourable opinion of mankind upon the whole, and that he believed that the majority was really actuated by fair meaning and intention.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote in l:--'we are by our occupations, education, and habits of life, divided almost into different species, which regard one another, for the most part, with scorn and malignity.' _the rambler_, no. . in no. he writes of 'the general hostility which every part of mankind exercises against the rest to furnish insults and sarcasm.' in he said:--'i am ready now to call a man _a good man_ upon easier terms than i was formerly.' _post_, under aug. , . [ ] johnson thirty-four years earlier, in the _life of savage_ (_works_, viii. ), had written:--'the knowledge of life was indeed his chief attainment; and it is not without some satisfaction that i can produce the suffrage of savage in favour of human nature.' on april , , he wrote:--'the world is not so unjust or unkind as it is peevishly represented. those who deserve well seldom fail to receive from others such services as they can perform; but few have much in their power, or are so stationed as to have great leisure from their own affairs, and kindness must be commonly the exuberance of content. the wretched have no compassion; they can do good only from strong principles of duty.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] pope thus introduces this story: 'faith in such case if you should prosecute, i think sir godfrey should decide the suit, who send the thief who [that] stole the cash away, and punish'd him that put it in his way.' _imitations of horace_, book ii. epist. ii. [l. ]. boswell. [ ] very likely boswell himself. see _post_, july , , where he put johnson's friendship to the test by neglecting to write to him. [ ] no doubt dr. barnard, dean of derry, afterwards bishop of killaloe. see _ante_, p. . [ ] the reverse of the story of _combabus_, on which mr. david hume told lord macartney, that a friend of his had written a tragedy. it is, however, possible that i may have been inaccurate in my perception of what dr. johnson related, and that he may have been talking of the same ludicrous tragical subject that mr. hume had mentioned. boswell. the story of combabus, which was originally told by lucian, may be found in bayle's _dictionary_. malone. [ ] horace walpole, less than three months later, wrote (_letters_, vii. ):--'poor mrs. clive has been robbed again in her own lane [in twickenham] as she was last year. i don't make a visit without a blunderbuss; one might as well be invaded by the french.' yet wesley in the previous december, speaking of highwaymen, records (_journal_, iv. ):--'i have travelled all roads by day and by night for these forty years, and never was interrupted yet.' baretti, who was a great traveller, says:--'for my part i never met with any robbers in my various rambles through several regions of europe.' baretti's _journey from london to genoa_, ii. . [ ] a year or two before johnson became acquainted with the thrales a man was hanged on kennington common for robbing mr. thrale. _gent. mag_. xxxiii. . [ ] the late duke of montrose was generally said to have been uneasy on that account; but i can contradict the report from his grace's own authority. as he used to admit me to very easy conversation with him, i took the liberty to introduce the subject. his grace told me, that when riding one night near london, he was attacked by two highwaymen on horseback, and that he instantly shot one of them, upon which the other galloped off; that his servant, who was very well mounted, proposed to pursue him and take him, but that his grace said, 'no, we have had blood enough: i hope the man may live to repent.' his grace, upon my presuming to put the question, assured me, that his mind was not at all clouded by what he had thus done in self-defence. boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , for a discussion on signing death-warrants. [ ] 'mr. dunning the great lawyer,' johnson called him, _ante_, p. . lord shelburne says:--'the fact is well known of the present chief justice of the common pleas (lord loughborough, formerly mr. wedderburne) beginning a law argument in the absence of mr. dunning, but upon hearing him hem in the course of it, his tone so visibly [sic] changed that there was not a doubt in any part of the house of the reason of it.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, iii. . [ ] 'the applause of a single human being,' he once said, 'is of great consequence.' _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] most likely boswell's father, for he answers to what is said of this person. he was known to johnson, he had married a second time, and he was fond of planting, and entertained schemes for the improvement of his property. see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. and , . _respectable_ was still a term of high praise. it had not yet come down to signify 'a man who keeps a gig.' johnson defines it as 'venerable, meriting respect.' it is not in the earlier editions of his _dictionary_. boswell, in his _hebrides_ (oct. ), calls johnson the duke of argyle's 'respectable guest,' and _post_, under sept. , , writes of 'the _respectable_ notion which should ever be entertained of my illustrious friend.' dr. franklin in a dedication to johnson describes himself as 'a sincere admirer of his _respectable_ talents;' _post_, end of . in the _gent. mag_. lv. , we read that 'a stone now covers the grave which holds his [dr. johnson's] _respectable_ remains.' 'i do not know,' wrote hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) of hampton court, 'a more _respectable_ sight than a room containing fourteen admirals, all by sir godfrey.' gibbon (_misc. works_, ii. ), congratulating lord loughborough on becoming lord chancellor, speaks of the support the administration will derive 'from so _respectable_ an ally.' george iii. wrote to lord shelburne on sept. , , 'when the tie between the colonies and england was about to be formally severed,' that he made 'the most frequent prayers to heaven to guide me so to act that posterity may not lay the downfall of this once _respectable_ empire at my door.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, iii. . lord chesterfield (_misc. works_, iv. ) writing of the hour of death says:--'that moment is at least a very _respectable_ one, let people who boast of not fearing it say what they please.' [ ] the younger newbery records that johnson, finding that he had a violin, said to him:--'young man, give the fiddle to the first beggar man you meet, or you will never be a scholar.' _a bookseller of the last century_, pp. , . see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] when i told this to miss seward, she smiled, and repeated, with admirable readiness, from _acis and galatea_, 'bring me a hundred reeds of ample growth, to make a pipe for my capacious mouth.' boswell. [ ] see _post_, june , , where johnson again mentions this. in _the spectator_, no. , addison recommends knotting, which was, he says, again in fashion, as an employment for 'the most idle part of the kingdom; i mean that part of mankind who are known by the name of the women's-men, or beaus,' etc. in _the universal passion_, satire i, young says of fame:-- 'by this inspired (o ne'er to be forgot!) some lords have learned to spell, and some to knot.' lord eldon says that 'at a period when all ladies were employed (when they had nothing better to do) in knotting, bishop porteous was asked by the queen, whether she might knot on a sunday. he answered, "you may not;" leaving her majesty to decide whether, as _knot_ and _not_ were in sound alike, she was, or was not, at liberty to do so.' twiss's _eldon_, ii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] martin's style is wanting in that 'cadence which temple gave to english prose' (_post_, p. ). it would not be judged now so severely as it was a century ago, as the following instance will show:--'there is but one steel and tinder-box in all this commonwealth; the owner whereof fails not upon every occasion of striking fire in the lesser isles, to go thither, and exact three eggs, or one of the lesser fowls from each man as a reward for his service; this by them is called the fire-penny, and this capitation is very uneasy to them; i bid them try their chrystal with their knives, which, when they saw it did strike fire, they were not a little astonished, admiring at the strangeness of the thing, and at the same time accusing their own ignorance, considering the quantity of chrystal growing under the rock of their coast. this discovery has delivered them from the fire-penny-tax, and so they are no longer liable to it.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] lord macartney observes upon this passage, 'i have heard him tell many things, which, though embellished by their mode of narrative, had their foundation in truth; but i never remember any thing approaching to this. if he had written it, i should have supposed some wag had put the figure of one before the three.'--i am, however, absolutely certain that dr. campbell told me it, and i gave particular attention to it, being myself a lover of wine, and therefore curious to hear whatever is remarkable concerning drinking. there can be no doubt that some men can drink, without suffering any injury, such a quantity as to others appears incredible. it is but fair to add, that dr. campbell told me, he took a very long time to this great potation; and i have heard dr. johnson say, 'sir, if a man drinks very slowly, and lets one glass evaporate before he takes another, i know not how long he may drink.' dr. campbell mentioned a colonel of militia who sat with him all the time, and drank equally. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in the following september she is thus mentioned by miss burney: --'mrs. thrale. "to-morrow, sir, mrs. montagu dines here, and then you will have talk enough." dr. johnson began to see-saw, with a countenance strongly expressive of inward fun, and after enjoying it some time in silence, he suddenly, and with great animation, turned to me and cried; "down with her, burney! down with her! spare her not! attack her, fight her, and down with her at once! you are a rising wit, and she is at the top; and when i was beginning the world, and was nothing and nobody, the joy of my life was to fire at all the established wits, and then everybody loved to halloo me on."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . 'she has,' adds miss burney, 'a sensible and penetrating countenance and the air and manner of a woman accustomed to being distinguished and of great parts. dr. johnson, who agrees in this, told us that a mrs. hervey of his acquaintance says she can remember mrs. montagu _trying_ for this same air and manner.' _ib_. p. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] only one volume had been published; it ended with the sixteenth chapter. [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says:--'she did not take at edinburgh. lord kames, who was at first catched with her parnassian coquetry, said at last that he believed she had as much learning as a well-educated college lad here of sixteen. in genuine feelings and deeds she was remarkably deficient. we saw her often in the neighbourhood of newcastle, and in that town, where there was no audience for such an actress as she was, her natural character was displayed, which was that of an active manager of her affairs, a crafty chaperon, and a keen pursuer of her interest, not to be outdone by the sharpest coal-dealer on the tyne; but in this capacity she was not displeasing, for she was not acting a part.' [ ] what my friend meant by these words concerning the amiable philosopher of salisbury, i am at a loss to understand. a friend suggests, that johnson thought his _manner_ as a writer affected, while at the same time the _matter_ did not compensate for that fault. in short, that he meant to make a remark quite different from that which a _celebrated gentleman_ made on a very eminent physician: 'he is a coxcomb, but a _satisfactory coxcomb_.' boswell. malone says that the _celebrated gentleman_ was gerard hamilton. see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , where johnson says that 'he thought harris a coxcomb,' and _ante_, ii. . [ ] _hermes_. [ ] on the back of the engraving of johnson in the common room of university college is inscribed:--'samuel johnson, ll.d. in hac camera communi frequens conviva. d.d. gulielmus scott nuper socius.' gulielmus scott is better known as lord stowell. see _ante_, i. , note , and iii. ; and _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, under march , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] _eminent_ is the epithet boswell generally applies to burke (_ante_, ii. ), and burke almost certainly is here meant. yet johnson later on said, 'burke's talk is the ebullition of his mind. he does not talk from a desire of distinction, but because his mind is full.' _post_, march , . [ ] kames describes it as 'an act as wild as any that superstition ever suggested to a distempered brain.' _sketches, etc_. iv. . [ ] see _ante,_ p. . [ ] 'queen caroline,' writes horace walpole, 'much wished to make dr. clarke a bishop, but he would not subscribe the articles again. i have often heard my father relate that he sat up one night at the palace with the doctor, till the pages of the backstairs asked if they would have fresh candles, my father endeavouring to persuade him to subscribe again, as he had for the living of st. james's. clarke pretended he had _then_ believed them. "well," said sir robert, "but if you do not now, you ought to resign your living to some man who would subscribe conscientiously." the doctor would neither resign his living nor accept the bishopric.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . see _ante_, i. , _post_, dec. , where johnson, on his death-bed, recommended clarke's _sermons_; and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] boswell took ogden's _sermons_ with him to the hebrides, but johnson showed no great eagerness to read them. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. and . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] _king lear_, act iii. sc. . [ ] the duke of marlborough. [ ] see chappell's _popular music of the olden time_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'the accounts of swift's reception in ireland given by lord orrery and dr. delany are so different, that the credit of the writers, both undoubtedly veracious, cannot be saved but by supposing, what i think is true, that they speak of different times. johnson's _works_, viii. . see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. lord orrery says that swift, on his return to ireland in , 'met with frequent indignities from the populace, and indeed was equally abused by persons of all ranks and denominations.' orrery's _remarks on swift_, ed. , p. . dr. delany says (_observations_, p. ) that 'swift, when he came--to take possession of his deanery (in ), was received with very distinguished respect.' [ ] 'he could practise abstinence,' says boswell (_post_, march , ), 'but not temperance.' [ ] 'the dinner was good, and the bishop is knowing and conversible,' wrote johnson of an earlier dinner at sir joshua's where he had met the same bishop. _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _post_, aug , . [ ] there is no mention in the _journey to brundusium_ of a brook. johnson referred, no doubt, to epistle i. . . [ ] 'ne ought save tyber hastning to his fall remaines of all. o world's inconstancie! that which is firme doth flit and fall away, and that is flitting doth abide and stay.' spenser, _the ruines of rome_. [ ] giano vitale, to give him his italian name, was a theologian and poet of palermo. his earliest work was published in , and he died about . _brunet_, and zedler's _universal lexicon_. [ ] 'albula romani restat nunc nominis index, qui quoque nunc rapidis fertur in aequor aquis. disce hinc quid possit fortuna. immota labascunt, et quae perpetuo sunt agitata manent.' jani vitalis panormitani _de roma_. see _delicia c.c. italorum poetarum_, edit. , p. , it is curious that in all the editions of boswell that i have seen, the error _labescunt_ remains unnoticed. [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] dr. shipley was chaplain to the duke of cumberland. croker. the battle was fought on july , n.s. . [ ] 'inconstant as the wind i various rove; at tibur, rome--at rome, i tibur love.' francis. horace, _epistles_, i. . . in the first two editions mr. cambridge's speech ended here. [ ] 'more constant to myself, i leave with pain, by hateful business forced, the rural scene.' francis. horace, _epist_., i. . . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] fox, it should be remembered, was johnson's junior by nearly forty years. [ ] see _ante_, i. , ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'who can doubt,' asks mr. forster, 'that he also meant slowness of motion? the first point of the picture is _that_. the poet is moving slowly, his tardiness of gait measuring the heaviness of heart, the pensive spirit, the melancholy of which it is the outward expression and sign.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _essay on man_, ii. . [ ] gibbon could have illustrated this subject, for not long before he had at paris been 'introduced,' he said, 'to the best company of both sexes, to the foreign ministers of all nations, and to the first names and characters of france.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . he says of an earlier visit:--'alone, in a morning visit, i commonly found the artists and authors of paris less vain and more reasonable than in the circles of their equals, with whom they mingle in the houses of the rich.' _ib_. p. . horace walpole wrote of the parisians in , (_letters_, iv. ):--'their gaiety is not greater than their delicacy--but i will not expatiate. [he had just described the grossness of the talk of women of the first rank.] several of the women are agreeable, and some of the men; but the latter are in general vain and ignorant. the _savans_--i beg their pardon, the _philosophes_--are insupportable, superficial, overbearing, and fanatic.' [ ] see _post_, under aug. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] [greek: 'gaerusko d aiei polla didaskomenos.'] 'i grow in learning as i grow in years.' plutarch, _solon_, ch. . [ ] ''tis somewhat to be lord of some small ground in which a lizard may at least turn around.' dryden, _juvenal_, iii. . [ ] _modern characters from shakespeare. alphabetically arranged_. a new edition. london, . it is not a pamphlet but a duodecimo of pages. some of the lines are very grossly applied. [ ] _as you like it_, act iii. sc. . the giant's name is gargantua, not garagantua. in _modern characters_ (p. ), the next line also is given:--'tis a word too great for any mouth of this age's size.' the lines that boswell next quotes are not given. [ ] _coriolanus_, act iii. sc. . [ ] see vol. i. p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where johnson charges robertson with _verbiage_. this word is not in his _dictionary_. [ ] pope, meeting bentley at dinner, addressed him thus:--'dr. bentley, i ordered my bookseller to send you your books. i hope you received them.' bentley, who had purposely avoided saying anything about _homer_, pretended not to understand him, and asked, 'books! books! what books?' 'my _homer_,' replied pope, 'which you did me the honour to subscribe for.'--'oh,' said bentley, 'ay, now i recollect--your translation:--it is a pretty poem, mr. pope; but you must not call it _homer_.' johnson's _works_, viii. , note. [ ] 'it is certainly the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen; and its publication must therefore be considered as one of the great events in the annals of learning.' _ib_. p. . 'there would never,' said gray, 'be another translation of the same poem equal to it.' gray's _works_, ed. , v. . cowper however says, that he and a friend 'compared pope's translation throughout with the original. they were not long in discovering that there is hardly the thing in the world of which pope was so utterly destitute as a taste for _homer_.' southey's _cowper_, i. . [ ] boswell here repeats what he had heard from johnson, _ante_, p. . [ ] swift, in his preface to temple's _letters_, says:--'it is generally believed that this author has advanced our english tongue to as great a perfection as it can well bear.' temple's _works_, i. . hume, in his essay _of civil liberty_, wrote in :--'the elegance and propriety of style have been very much neglected among us. the first polite prose we have was writ by a man who is still alive (swift). as to sprat, locke, and even temple, they knew too little of the rules of art to be esteemed elegant writers.' mackintosh says (_life_, ii. ):--'swift represents temple as having brought english style to perfection. hume, i think, mentions him; but of late he is not often spoken of as one of the reformers of our style--this, however, he certainly was. the structure of his style is perfectly modern.' johnson said that he had partly formed his style upon temple's; _ante_, i. . in the last _rambler_, speaking of what he had himself done for our language, he says:--'something, perhaps, i have added to the elegance of its construction, and something to the harmony of its cadence.' [ ] 'clarendon's diction is neither exact in itself, nor suited to the purpose of history. it is the effusion of a mind crowded with ideas, and desirous of imparting them; and therefore always accumulating words, and involving one clause and sentence in another.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] johnson's addressing himself with a smile to mr. harris is explained by a reference to what boswell said (_ante_, p. ) of harris's analytic method in his _hermes_. [ ] 'dr. johnson said of a modern martial [no doubt elphinston's], "there are in these verses too much folly for madness, i think, and too much madness for folly."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . burns wrote on it the following epigram:-- 'o thou whom poetry abhors, whom prose has turned out of doors, heard'st thou that groan--proceed no further, 'twas laurell'd. martial roaring murder.' for mr. elphinston see _ante_, i. . [ ] it was called _the siege of aleppo_. mr. hawkins, the authour of it, was formerly professor of poetry at oxford. it is printed in his _miscellanies_, vols. octavo. boswell. 'hughes's last work was his tragedy, _the siege of damascus_, after which a _siege_ became a popular title.' johnson's _works_, vii. . see _ante_, i. , note . hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) mentions another _siege_ by a mrs. b. this lady asked johnson to 'look over her _siege of sinope_; he always found means to evade it. at last she pressed him so closely that he refused to do it, and told her that she herself, by carefully looking it over, would be able to see if there was anything amiss as well as he could. "but, sir," said she, "i have no time. i have already so many irons in the fire." "why then, madame," said he, quite out of patience, "the best thing i can advise you to do is to put your tragedy along with your irons."' mrs. b. was mrs. brooke. see baker's _biog. dram_. iii. , where no less than thirty-seven _sieges_ are enumerated. [ ] that the story was true is shewn by the _garrick corres_. ii. . hawkins wrote to garrick in :--'you rejected my _siege of aleppo_ because it was "wrong in the first concoction," as you said.' he added that his play 'was honoured with the _entire_ approbation of judge blackstone and mr. johnson.' [ ] the manager of covent garden theatre. [ ] hawkins wrote:--'in short, sir, the world will be a proper judge whether i have been candidly treated by you.' garrick, in his reply, did not make the impertinent offer which he here boasts of. hawkins lived in dorsetshire, not in devonshire; as he reminds garrick who had misdirected his letter. _garrick corres_. ii. - . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'boswell. "beauclerk has a keenness of mind which is very uncommon." johnson. "yes, sir; and everything comes from him so easily. it appears to me that i labour, when i say a good thing." boswell. "you are loud, sir, but it is not an effort of mind."' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . see _post_, under may , . [ ] boswell seems to imply that he showed johnson, or at least read to him, a portion of his journal. most of his _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ had been read by him. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , and oct. . [ ] hannah more wrote of this evening (_memoirs_, i. ):--'garrick put johnson into such good spirits that i never knew him so entertaining or more instructive. he was as brilliant as himself, and as good-humoured as any one else.' [ ] he was, perhaps, more steadily under johnson than under any else. in his own words he was 'of johnson's school.' (_ante_, p. ). gibbon calls johnson reynolds's oracle. gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] boswell never mentions sir john scott (lord eldon) who knew johnson (_ante_, ii. ), and who was solicitor-general when the _life of johnson_ was published. boswell perhaps never forgave him the trick that he and others played him at the lancaster assizes about the years - . 'we found,' said eldon, 'jemmy boswell lying upon the pavement--inebriated. we subscribed at supper a guinea for him and half-a-crown for his clerk, and sent him next morning a brief with instructions to move for the writ of _quare adhæsit pavimento_, with observations calculated to induce him to think that it required great learning to explain the necessity of granting it. he sent all round the town to attornies for books, but in vain. he moved however for the writ, making the best use he could of the observations in the brief. the judge was astonished and the audience amazed. the judge said, "i never heard of such a writ--what can it be that adheres _pavimento_? are any of you gentlemen at the bar able to explain this?" the bar laughed. at last one of them said, "my lord, mr. boswell last night _adhæsit pavimento_. there was no moving him for some time. at last he was carried to bed, and he has been dreaming about himself and the pavement."' twiss's _eldon_, i. . boswell wrote to temple in :--'i hesitate as to going the spring northern circuit, which costs £ , and obliges me to be in rough, unpleasant company four weeks.' _letters of boswell_, p. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'johnson, in accounting for the courage of our common people, said (_works_, vi. ):--'it proceeds from that dissolution of dependence which obliges every man to regard his own character. while every man is fed by his own hands, he has no need of any servile arts; he may always have wages for his labour, and is no less necessary to his employer than his employer is to him.' [ ] he says of a laird's tenants:--'since the islanders no longer content to live have learned the desire of growing rich, an ancient dependant is in danger of giving way to a higher bidder, at the expense of domestick dignity and hereditary power. the stranger, whose money buys him preference, considers himself as paying for all that he has, and is indifferent about the laird's honour or safety. the commodiousness of money is indeed great; but there are some advantages which money cannot buy, and which therefore no wise man will by the love of money be tempted to forego.' _ib_. ix. . [ ] 'every old man complains ... of the petulance and insolence of the rising generation. he recounts the decency and regularity of former times, and celebrates the discipline and sobriety of the age in which his youth was passed; a happy age, which is now no more to be expected, since confusion has broken in upon the world, and thrown down all the boundaries of civility and reverence.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] boswell, perhaps, had in mind _the rambler_, no. :--'it is long before we are convinced of the small proportion which every individual bears to the collective body of mankind; or learn how few can be interested in the fortune of any single man; how little vacancy is left in the world for any new object of attention; to how small extent the brightest blaze of merit can be spread amidst the mists of business and of folly.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'fortunam reverenter habe, quicumque repente dives ab exili progrediere loco.' ausonius, _epigrammata_, viii. . stockdale records (_memoirs_, ii. ), that johnson said to him:--'garrick has undoubtedly the merit of an unassuming behaviour; for more pains have been taken to spoil that fellow than if he had been heir apparent to the empire of india.' [ ] a lively account of quin is given in _humphry clinker_, in the letters of april and may . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] a few days earlier garrick wrote to a friend:--'i did not hear till last night that your friends have generously contributed to your and their own happiness. no one can more rejoice at this circumstance than i do; and as i hope we shall have a bonfire upon the occasion, i beg that you will light it with the inclosed.' the inclosed was a bond for £ . _garrick corres_. ii. . murphy says:--'dr. johnson often said that, when he saw a worthy family in distress, it was his custom to collect charity among such of his friends as he knew to be affluent; and on those occasions he received from garrick more than from any other person, and always more than he expected.' _life of garrick_, p. . 'it was with garrick a fixed principle that authors were intitled to the emolument of their labours, and by that generous way of thinking he held out an invitation to men of genius.' _ib_. p. . see _ante_, p. , and _post_, april , . [ ] when johnson told this little anecdote to sir joshua reynolds, he mentioned a circumstance which he omitted to-day:--'why (said garrick) it is as red as blood.' boswell. a passage in johnson's answer to hanway's _essay on tea_ (_ante_, i. ) shews that tea was generally made very weak. 'three cups,' he says, 'make the common quantity, so slightly impregnated that, perhaps, they might be tinged with the athenian cicuta, and produce less effects than these letters charge upon tea.' _works_, vi. . [ ] to garrick might be applied what johnson said of swift:--'he was frugal by inclination, but liberal by principle.' _works_, viii. . [ ] see _post_, under march , . in fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, ii. , is a paper by lord shelburne in which are very clearly laid down rules of economy--rules which, to quote his own words (p. ), 'require little, if any, more power of mind, than to be sure to put on a clean shirt every day.' boswell records (_hebrides_, aug. ) that johnson said:--'if a man is not of a sluggish mind, he may be his own steward.' [ ] 'lady macbeth urges the excellence and dignity of courage, a glittering idea which has dazzled mankind from age to age, and animated sometimes the housebreaker, and sometimes the conqueror.' johnson's _works_, v. . [ ] smollett, who had been a ship's doctor, describes the hospital in a man-of-war:--'here i saw about fifty miserable distempered wretches, suspended in rows, so huddled one upon another, that not more than fourteen inches space was allotted for each with his bed and bedding; and deprived of the light of the day as well as of fresh air; breathing nothing but a noisome atmosphere ... devoured with vermin.' &c. the doctor, when visiting the sick, 'thrust his wig in his pocket, and stript himself to his waistcoat; then creeping on all fours under their hammocks, and forcing up his bare pate between two, kept them asunder with one shoulder until he had done his duty.' _roderick random_, i. ch. and . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'the qualities which commonly make an army formidable are long habits of regularity, great exactness of discipline, and great confidence in the commander ... but the english troops have none of these requisites in any eminent degree. regularity is by no means part of their character.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in the _marmor norfolciense_ (_works_, vi. ) he describes the soldier as 'a red animal, that ranges uncontrolled over the country, and devours the labours of the trader and the husbandman; that carries with it corruption, rapine, pollution, and devastation; that threatens without courage, robs without fear, and is pampered without labour.' in _the idler_, no. , he makes an imaginary correspondent say:--'i passed some years in the most contemptible of all human stations, that of a soldier in time of peace.' 'soldiers, in time of peace,' he continues, 'long to be delivered from the tyranny of idleness, and restored to the dignity of active beings.' _ib_. no. , he writes:--'among the calamities of war may be justly numbered the diminution of the love of truth by the falsehoods which interest dictates, and credulity encourages. a peace will equally leave the warriour and relater of wars destitute of employment; and i know not whether more is to be dreaded from streets filled with soldiers accustomed to plunder, or from garrets filled with scribblers accustomed to lie.' many years later he wrote (_works_, viii. ):--'west continued some time in the army; though it is reasonable to suppose that he never sunk into a mere soldier, nor ever lost the love, or much neglected the pursuit of learning.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] the reference seems to be to a passage in plutarch's _alcibiades_, where phaeax is thus described:--'he seemed fitter for soliciting and persuading in private than for stemming the torrent of a public debate; in short, he was one of those of whom eupolis says:--"true he can talk, and yet he is no speaker."' langhome's _plutarch_, ed. , ii. . how the quotation was applied is a matter only for conjecture. [ ] 'was there,' asked johnson, 'ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, excepting _don quixote, robinson crusoe_, and _the pilgrim's progress_?' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, march , . [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for , p. , this hulk seems to be mentioned:--'the felons sentenced under the new convict-act began to work in clearing the bed of the thames about two miles below barking creek. in the vessel wherein they work there is a room abaft in which they are to sleep, and in the forecastle a kind of cabin for the overseer.' _ib_. p. , there is an admirable paper, very likely by bentham, on the punishment of convicts, which johnson might have read with advantage. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] malone says that he had in vain examined dodsley's _collection_ for the verses. my search has been equally in vain. [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) praises smith's 'excellent latin ode on the death of the great orientalist, dr. pocock.' he says that he does not know 'where to find it equalled among the modern writers.' see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'thus commending myself and my eternal concerns into thy most faithful hands, in firm hope of a happy reception into thy kingdom; oh! my god! hear me, while i humbly extend my supplications for others; and pray that thou wouldst bless the king and all his family; that thou wouldst preserve the crown to his house to endless generations.' dodd's _last prayer_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'i never knew,' wrote davies of johnson, 'any man but one who had the honour and courage to confess that he had a tincture of envy in him. he, indeed, generously owned that he was not a stranger to it; at the same time he declared that he endeavoured to subdue it.' davies's _garrick_, ii. . [ ] reynolds said that johnson, 'after the heat of contest was over, if he had been informed that his antagonist resented his rudeness, was the first to seek after a reconcilation.' taylor's _reynolds_, . . see ante, . . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, edit. , p. [sept. ]. boswell. [ ] see this accurately stated, and the descent of his family from the earls of northumberland clearly deduced in the reverend dr. nash's excellent _history of worcestershire_, vol. ii. p. . the doctor has subjoined a note, in which he says, 'the editor hath seen and carefully examined the proofs of all the particulars above-mentioned, now in the possession of the reverend thomas percy.' the same proofs i have also myself carefully examined, and have seen some additional proofs which have occurred since the doctor's book was published; and both as a lawyer accustomed to the consideration of evidence, and as a genealogist versed in the study of pedigrees, i am fully satisfied. i cannot help observing, as a circumstance of no small moment, that in tracing the bishop of dromore's genealogy, essential aid was given by the late elizabeth duchess of northumberland, heiress of that illustrious house; a lady not only of high dignity of spirit, such as became her noble blood, but of excellent understanding and lively talents. with a fair pride i can boast of the honour of her grace's correspondence, specimens of which adorn my archives. boswell. [ ] 'the gardens are trim to the highest degree, and more adapted to a _villa_ near london than the ancient seat of a great baron. in a word, nothing except the numbers of unindustrious poor that swarm at the gate excites any one idea of its former circumstances.' pennant's _scotland_, p. . [ ] mr. croker quotes a passage from _the heroic epistle_, which ends:-- 'so when some john his dull invention racks to rival boodle's dinners, or almack's, three uncouth legs of mutton shock our eyes, three roasted geese, three buttered apple pies.' [ ] johnson saw alnwick on his way to scotland. 'we came to alnwick,' he wrote, 'where we were treated with great civility by the duke: i went through the apartments, walked on the wall, and climbed the towers.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'when reynolds painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen and holding it almost close to his eye, as was his custom, he felt displeased, and told me he would not be known by posterity for his _defects_ only, let sir joshua do his worst. i said that the picture in the room where we were talking represented sir joshua holding his ear in his hand to catch the sound. "he may paint himself as deaf, if he chooses," replied johnson, "but i will not be _blinking sam_."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] 'you look in vain for the _helmet_ on the tower, the ancient signal of hospitality to the traveller, or for the grey-headed porter to conduct him to the hall of entertainment. instead of the disinterested usher of the old times, he is attended by a _valet_ to receive the fees of admittance.' pennant's _scottland_, p. . [ ] it certainly was a custom, as appears from the following passage in _perce-forest_, vol. iii. p. :--'fasoient mettre au plus hault de leur hostel un _heaulme, en signe_ que tous les gentils hommes et gentilles femmes entrâssent hardiment en leur hostel comme en leur propre.' kearney. [ ] the title of a book translated by dr. percy. boswell. it is a translation of the introduction to _l'histoire de danemarck_, par m. mallet. lowndes's _bibl. man_. ed. , p. . [ ] he was a welshman. [ ] this is the common cant against faithful biography. does the worthy gentleman mean that i, who was taught discrimination of character by johnson, should have omitted his frailties, and, in short, have _bedawbed_ him as the worthy gentleman has bedawbed scotland? boswell. [ ] see dr. johnson's _journey to the western islands_, [_works_, ix. ];--see his _dictionary_ article, _oats_:--and my _voyage to the hebrides_, first edition. pennant. [ ] mr. boswell's journal, p. , [third edition, p. , sep. .] pennant. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] percy, it should seem, took offence later on. cradock (_memoirs_, i. ) says:--'almost the last time i ever saw johnson [it was in ] he said to me:--"notwithstanding all the pains that dr. farmer and i took to serve dr. percy in regard to his _ancient ballads_, he has left town for ireland without taking leave of either of us."' cradock adds (p. ) that though 'percy was a most pleasing companion, yet there was a violence in his temper which could not always be controlled.' 'i was witness,' he writes (p. ), 'to an entire separation between percy and goldsmith about rowley's [chatterton's] poems.' [ ] sunday, april , . boswell. [ ] johnson, writing of the uncertainty of friendship, says: 'a dispute begun in jest upon a subject which, a moment before, was on both sides regarded with careless indifference, is continued by the desire of conquest, till vanity kindles into rage, and opposition rankles into enmity. against this hasty mischief i know not what security can be obtained; men will be sometimes surprised into quarrels.' _the idler_, no. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] though the bishop of dromore kindly answered the letters which i wrote to him, relative to dr. johnson's early history; yet, in justice to him, i think it proper to add, that the account of the foregoing conversation and the subsequent transaction, as well as some other conversations in which he is mentioned, has been given to the publick without previous communication with his lordship. boswell. this note is first given in the second edition, being added, no doubt, at the bishop's request. [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] chap. xlii. is still shorter:--'_concerning owls_. 'there are no owls of any kind in the whole island.' horrebow says in his _preface_, p. vii:--'i have followed mr. anderson article by article, declaring what is false in each.' a member of the _icelandic literary society_ in a letter to the _pall mall gazette_, dated may , , thus accounts for these chapters:--'in there was published at hamburg a small volume entitled, _nachrichlen von island, grönland und der strasse davis_. the danish government, conceiving that its intentions were misrepresented by this work, procured a reply to be written by niels horrebow, and this was published, in , under the title of _tilforladelige efterretninger om island_; in , an english translation appeared in london. the object of the author was to answer all anderson's charges and imputations. this horrebow did categorically, and hence come these chapters, though it must be added that they owe their laconic celebrity to the english translator, the author being rather profuse than otherwise in giving his predecessor a flat denial.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'a fugitive from heaven and prayer, i mocked at all religious fear, deep scienced in the mazy lore of mad philosophy: but now hoist sail, and back my voyage plough to that blest harbour which i left before.' francis. horace, _odes_, i. . . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, p. . [ ] ovid, _meta_. ii. . [ ] johnson says (_works_, viii. ):--'the greater part of mankind _have no character at all_, have little that distinguishes them from others equally good or bad.' it would seem to follow that the greater part of mankind have no style at all, for it is in character that style takes its spring. [ ] 'dodd's wish to be received into our society was conveyed to us only by a whisper, and that being the case all opposition to his admission became unnecessary.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] see note, vol. iii. p. . boswell. see _post_, p. , for johnson's violence against the americans and those who sided with them. [ ] the friend was mr. steevens. garrick says (_corres_. ii. ) that steevens had written things in the newspapers against him that were slanderous, and then had assured him upon his word and honour that he had not written them; that he had later on bragged that he had written them, and had said, 'that it was fun to vex me.' garrick adds:--'i was resolved to keep no terms with him, and will always treat him as such a pest of society merits from all men.' 'steevens, dr. parr used to say, had only three friends--himself, dr. farmer, and john reed, so hateful was his character. he was one of the wisest, most learned, but most spiteful of men.' johnstone's _parr_, viii. . boswell had felt steevens's ill-nature. while he was carrying the _life of johnson_ through the press, at a time when he was suffering from 'the most woeful return of melancholy,' he wrote to malone,--'jan , . steevens _kindly_ tells me that i have over-printed, and that the curiosity about johnson is _now_ only in our own circle.... feb. . you must know that i am _certainly_ informed that a certain person who delights in mischief has been _depreciating_ my book, so that i fear the sale of it may be very dubious.' croker's _boswell_, p. . _a certain person_ was, no doubt, steevens. see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, under march , , and may , . [ ] 'i own th' indulgence--such i give and take.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. . ii. [ ] 'we grant, altho' he had much wit, h' was very shy of using it, as being loth to wear it out.' _hudibras_, i. i. . [ ] 'among the sentiments which almost every man changes as he advances into years is the expectation of uniformity of character.' _the rambler_, no. . see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] after this follows a line which boswell has omitted:--'then rises fresh, pursues his wonted game.' _cato_, act i. sc. . [ ] boswell was right, and oglethorpe wrong; the exclamation in suetonius is, 'utinam _populus_ romanus unam cervicem haberet.' calig. xxx.--croker. [ ] 'macaroon (_macarone_, italian), a coarse, rude, low fellow; whence, _macaronick_ poetry, in which the language is purposely corrupted.' johnson's _dictionary_. '_macaroni_, probably from old italian _maccare, to bruise, to batter, to pester_; derivative, _macaronic_, i.e. in a confused or mixed state (applied to a jumble of languages).' skeat's _etymological diet_. [ ] _polemo-middinia_, as the commentator explains, is _proelium in sterquilinio commissum_. in the opening lines the poet thus calls on the skipperii, or _skippers_:-- 'linquite skellatas botas, shippasque picatas, whistlantesque simul fechtam memorate blodeam, fechtam terribilem, quam marvellaverat omnis banda deûm, quoque nympharum cockelshelearum.' [ ] in best's _memorials_, p. , is given another of these lines that mr. langton repeated:--'five-poundon elendeto, ah! mala simplos.' for joshua barnes see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] dr. johnson, describing her needle-work in one of his letters to mrs. thrale, vol. i. p. , uses the learned word _sutile_; which mrs. thrale has mistaken, and made the phrase injurious by writing '_futile_ pictures.' boswell. see _post_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] the revolution of . the book was published in . charles sheridan was the elder brother of r.b. sheridan. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] as physicians are called _the faculty_, and counsellors at law _the profession_; the booksellers of london are denominated _the trade_. johnson disapproved of these denominations. boswell. johnson himself once used this 'denomination.' _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] a translation of these forged letters which were written by m. de caraccioli was published in . by the _gent. mag_. (xlvi. ) they were accepted as genuine. in _the ann. reg_. for the same year (xix. ) was published a translation the letter in which voltaire had attacked their authenticity. the passage that johnson quotes is the following:--'on est en droit de lui dire ce qu'on dit autrefois a l'abbé nodot: "montrez-nous votre manuscript de pétrone, trouvé a belgrade, ou consentez à n'être cru of de personne."' voltaire's _works_, xliii. . [ ] baretti (_journey from london to genoa_, i. ) says that he saw in , near honiton, at a small rivulet, 'an engine called a ducking-stool; a kind of armed wooden chair, fixed on the extremity of a pole about fifteen feet long. the pole is horizontally placed on a post just by the water, and loosely pegged to that post; so that by raising it at one end, you lower the stool down into the midst of the river. that stool serves at present to duck scolds and termagants.' [ ] 'an two men ride of a horse, one must ride behind.' _much ado about nothing_, act iii. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'one star differeth from another star in glory.' i cor. xv. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] 'the physicians in hogarth's prints are not caricatures: the full dress with a sword and _a great tye-wig_, and the hat under the arm, and the doctors in consultation, each smelling to a gold-headed cane shaped like a parish-beadle's staff, are pictures of real life in his time, and myself have seen a young physician thus equipped walk the streets of london without attracting the eyes of passengers.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . dr. t. campbell in , writing of dublin to a london physician, says:--'no sooner were your _medical wigs_ laid aside than an attempt was made to do the like here. but in vain.' _survey of the south of ireland_, p. . [ ] 'jenyns,' wrote malone, on the authority of w.g. hamilton, 'could not be made without much labour to comprehend an argument. if however there was anything weak or ridiculous in what another said, he always laid hold of it and played upon it with success. he looked at everything with a view to pleasantry alone. this being his grand object, and he being no reasoner, his best friends were at a loss to know whether his book upon christianity was serious or ironical.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] jenyns maintains (p. ) that 'valour, patriotism, and friendship are only fictitious virtues--in fact no virtue at all.' [ ] he had furnished an answer to this in _the rambler_, no. , where he says:--'to love all men is our duty so far as it includes a general habit of benevolence, and readiness of occasional kindness; but to love all equally is impossible.... the necessities of our condition require a thousand offices of tenderness, which mere regard for the species will never dictate. every man has frequent grievances which only the solicitude of friendship will discover and remedy, and which would remain for ever unheeded in the mighty heap of human calamity, were it only surveyed by the eye of general benevolence equally attentive to every misery.' see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] _galatians_, vi. . [ ] _st. john_, xxi. . compare jeremy taylor's _measures and offices of friendship_, ch. i. . [ ] in the first two editions 'from this _amiable and_ pleasing subject.' [ ] _acts of the apostles_, ix. i. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] if any of my readers are disturbed by this thorny question, i beg leave to recommend, to them letter of montesquieu's _lettres persanes_; and the late mr. john palmer of islington's answer to dr. priestley's mechanical arguments for what he absurdly calls 'philosophical necessity.' boswell. see _post_, under aug. , ; note. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'i have proved,' writes mandeville (_fables of the bees_, ed. , p. ), 'that the real pleasures of all men in nature are worldly and sensual, if we judge from their practice; i say all men in nature, because devout christians, who alone are to be excepted here, being regenerated and preternaturally assisted by the divine grace, cannot be said to be in nature.' [ ] mandeville describes with great force the misery caused by gin-- 'liquid poison' he calls it--'which in the fag-end and outskirts of the town is sold in some part or other of almost every house, frequently in cellars, and sometimes in the garret.' he continues:--'the short-sighted vulgar in the chain of causes seldom can see further than one link; but those who can enlarge their view may in a hundred places see good spring up and pullulate from evil, as naturally as chickens do from eggs.' he instances the great gain to the revenue, and to all employed in the production of the spirit from the husbandman upwards. _fable of the bees_, p. . [ ] 'if a miser, who is almost a plum (i.e. worth £ , , _johnson's dictionary_), and spends but fifty pounds a year, should be robbed of a thousand guineas, it is certain that as soon as this money should come to circulate, the nation would be the better for the robbery; yet justice and the peace of the society require that the robber should be hanged.' _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson, in his political economy, seems to have been very much under mandeville's influence. thus in attacking milton's position that 'a popular government was the most frugal; for the trappings of a monarchy would set up our ordinary commonwealth,' he says, 'the support and expense of a court is, for the most part, only a particular kind of traffick, by which money is circulated, without any national impoverishment.' _works_, vii. . mandeville in much the same way says:--'when a covetous statesman is gone, who spent his whole life in fattening himself with the spoils of the nation, and had by pinching and plundering heaped up an immense treasure, it ought to fill every good member of the society with joy to behold the uncommon profuseness of his son. this is refunding to the public whatever was robbed from it. as long as the nation has its own back again, we ought not to quarrel with the manner in which the plunder is repaid.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in _the adventurer_, no. , johnson writes:--'"the devils," says sir thomas brown, "do not tell lies to one another; for truth is necessary to all societies; nor can the society of hell subsist without it."' mr. wilkin, the editor of brown's _works_ (ed. , i. liv), says:--'i should be glad to know the authority of this assertion.' i infer from this that the passage is not in brown's _works_. [ ] hannah more: see _post_, under date of june , . [ ] in her visits to london she was commonly the guest of the garricks. a few months before this conversation garrick wrote a prologue and epilogue for her tragedy of _percy_. he invested for her the money that she made by this play. h. more's _memoirs_, i. , . [ ] in april she records (_ib_. i. ) that she called on johnson shortly after she wrote _le bas bleu_. 'as to it,' she continues, 'all the flattery i ever received from everybody together would not make up his sum. he said there was no name in poetry that might not be glad to own it. all this from johnson, that parsimonious praiser!' he wrote of it to mrs. thrale on april , :--'it is in my opinion a very great performance.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . dr. beattie wrote on july , :--'johnson told me with great solemnity that miss more was "the most powerful versificatrix" in the english language.' forbes's _beattie_, ed. , p. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] the ancestor of mr. murray of albemarle street. [ ] see _a letter to w. mason, a.m. from j. murray, bookseller in london_; d edition, p. . boswell. [ ] 'the righteous hath hope in his death.' _proverbs_, xiv. . [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] johnson, in _the convict's address_ (_ante_, p. ), makes dodd say:--'possibly it may please god to afford us some consolation, some secret intimations of acceptance and forgiveness. but these radiations of favour are not always felt by the sincerest penitents. to the greater part of those whom angels stand ready to receive, nothing is granted in this world beyond rational hope; and with hope, founded on promise, we may well be satisfied.' [ ] 'i do not find anything able to reconcile us to death but extreme pain, shame or despair; for poverty, imprisonment, ill fortune, grief, sickness and old age do generally fail.' _swift's works_, ed. , xiv. . [ ] 'i have fought a good fight, i have finished my course, i have kept the faith: henceforth there is laid up for me a crown of righteousness.' _timothy_, iv. and . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'inde illud maecenatis turpissimum votum, quo et debilitatem non recusat, et deformitatem, et novissime acutam crucem dummodo inter haec mala spiritus prorogetur. "debilem facito manu, debilem pede, coxa; tuber adstrue gibberum, lubricos quate dentes; vita dum superest, bene est; hanc mihi vel acuta si sedeam cruce sustine."' seneca's _epistles_, no. . dryden makes gonsalvo say in _the rival ladies_, act iv. sc. :-- 'for men with horrour dissolution meet, the minutes e'en of painful life are sweet.' in paradise lost moloch and belial take opposite sides on this point:-- moloch. 'what doubt we to incense his utmost ire? which, to the height enraged, will either quite consume us, and reduce to nothing this essential; happier far than miserable to have eternal being.' bk. ii. . . belial. 'who would lose, though full of pain, this intellectual being, those thoughts that wander through eternity, to perish rather, swallowed up and lost in the wide womb of uncreated night, devoid of sense and motion?' . . cowper, at times at least, held with moloch. he wrote to his friend newton:--'i feel--i will not tell you what--and yet i must--a wish that i had never been, a wonder that i am, and an ardent but hopeless desire not to be.' southey's _cowper_, vi. . see _ante_, p. , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] johnson recorded in _pr. and med_. p. :--'at ashbourne i hope to talk seriously with taylor.' taylor published in _a letter to samuel johnson on the subject of a future state_. he writes that 'having heard that johnson had said that he would prefer a state of torment to that of annihilation, he told him that such a declaration, coming from him, might be productive of evil consequences. dr. j. desired him to arrange his thoughts on the subject.' taylor says that johnson's entry about the serious talk refers to this matter. _gent. mag_. , p. . i believe that johnson meant to warn taylor about the danger _he_ was running of 'entering the state of torment.' [ ] wesley, like johnson, was a wide reader. on his journeys he read books of great variety, such as _the odyssey_, rousseau's _emile_, boswell's _corsica_, swift's _letters_, hoole's _tasso_, robertson's _charles v., quintus curtius_, franklin's _letters on electricity_, besides a host of theological works. like johnson, too, he was a great dabbler in physic and a reader of medical works. his writings covered a great range. he wrote, he says, among other works, an english, a latin, a greek, a hebrew, and a french grammar, a treatise on logic and another on electricity. in the british isles he had travelled perhaps more than any man of his time, and he had visited north america and more than one country of europe. he had seen an almost infinite variety of characters. see _ante_, p. . [ ] the story is recorded in wesley's _journal_, ed. , iv. . it was at sunderland and not at newcastle where the scene was laid. the ghost did not prophesy ill of the attorney. on the contrary, it said to the girl:--'go to durham, employ an attorney there, and the house will be recovered.' she went to durham, 'and put the affair into mr. hugill the attorney's hands.' 'a month after,' according to the girl, 'the ghost came about eleven. i said, "lord bless me! what has brought you here again?" he said, "mr. hugill has done nothing but wrote one letter."' on this wesley writes by way of comment:--'so he [the ghost] had observed him [the attorney] narrowly, though unseen.' see _post_, under may , . [ ] johnson, with his horror of annihilation, caught at everything which strengthened his belief in the immortality of the soul. boswell mentions _ante_, ii. , 'johnson's elevated wish for more and more evidence for spirit,' and records the same desire, _post_, june , . southey (_life of wesley_, i. ) says of supernatural appearances:--'with regard to the good end which they may be supposed to answer, it would be end sufficient if sometimes one of those unhappy persons, who looking through the dim glass of infidelity see nothing beyond this life, and the narrow sphere of mortal existence, should, from the established truth of one such story (trifling and objectless as it might otherwise appear), be led to a conclusion that there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in their philosophy.' see _ante_, p. , and _post_, april , . [ ] miss jane harry. in miss seward's _letters_, i. , is an account of her, which mr. croker shows to be inaccurate. there is, too, a long and lifeless report of the talk at this dinner. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] mrs. knowles, not satisfied with the fame of her needlework, the '_sutile pictures_' mentioned by johnson, in which she has indeed displayed much dexterity, nay, with the fame of reasoning better than women generally do, as i have fairly shewn her to have done, communicated to me a dialogue of considerable length, which after many years had elapsed, she wrote down as having passed between dr. johnson and herself at this interview. as i had not the least recollection of it, and did not find the smallest trace of it in my _record_ taken at the time, i could not in consistency with my firm regard to authenticity, insert it in my work. it has, however, been published in _the gent. mag_. for june, . it chiefly relates to the principles of the sect called _quakers_; and no doubt the lady appears to have greatly the advantage of dr. johnson in argument as well as expression. from what i have now stated, and from the internal evidence of the paper itself, any one who may have the curiosity to peruse it, will judge whether it was wrong in me to reject it, however willing to gratify mrs. knowles. boswell. johnson mentioned the '_sutile pictures_' in a letter dated may , , describing the dinner at messrs. dilly's. 'and there,' he wrote, 'was mrs. knowles, the quaker, that works the sutile [misprinted by mrs. piozzi _futile_] pictures. she is a staffordshire woman, and i am to go and see her. staffordshire is the nursery of art; here they grow up till they are transplanted to london.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he is pleasantly alluding to the fact that he was a staffordshire man. in the _dialogue_ in _the gent. mag_. for , p. , mrs. knowles says that, the wrangle ended thus:--'mrs. k. "i hope, doctor, thou wilt not remain unforgiving; and that you will renew your friendship, and joyfully meet at last in those bright regions where pride and prejudice can never enter." dr. johnson. "meet _her_! i never desire to meet fools anywhere." this sarcastic turn of wit was so pleasantly received that the doctor joined in the laugh; his spleen was dissipated, he took his coffee, and became, for the remainder of the evening, very cheerful and entertaining.' did miss austen find here the title of _pride and prejudice_, for her novel? [ ] of this day he recorded (_pr. and med_. p. ):--'it has happened this week, as it never happened in passion week before, that i have never dined at home, and i have therefore neither practised abstinence nor peculiar devotion.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] i believe, however, i shall follow my own opinion; for the world has shewn a very flattering partiality to my writings, on many occasions. boswell. in _boswelliana_, p. , boswell, after recording a story about voltaire, adds:--'in contradiction to this story, see in my _journal_ the account which tronchin gave me of voltaire.' this _journal_ was probably destroyed by boswell's family. by his will, he left his manuscripts and letters to sir w. forbes, mr. temple, and mr. malone, to be published for the benefit of his younger children as they shall decide. the editor of _boswelliana_ says (p. ) that 'these three literary executors did not meet, and the entire business of the trust was administered by sir w. forbes, who appointed as his law-agent, robert boswell, cousin-german of the deceased. by that gentleman's advice, boswell's manuscripts were left to the disposal of his family; and it is believed that the whole were immediately destroyed.' the indolence of malone and temple, and the brutish ignorance of the boswells, have indeed much to answer for. see _ante_, i. , note , and _post_, may , . [ ] 'he that would travel for the entertainment of others should remember that the great object of remark is human life.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson recorded (_pr. and med_. p. ):--'boswell came in to go to church ... talk lost our time, and we came to church late, at the second lesson.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] oliver edwards entered pembroke college in june, . he left in april, . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] 'edwards observed how many we have outlived. i hope, yet hope, that my future life shall be better than my past.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'don't, sir, accustom yourself to use big words for little matters.' _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson said to me afterwards, 'sir, they respected me for my literature; and yet it was not great but by comparison. sir, it is amazing how little literature there is in the world.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] very near the college, facing the passage which leads to it from pembroke street, still stands an old alehouse which must have been old in johnson's time. [ ] this line has frequently been attributed to dryden, when a king's scholar at westminster. but neither eton nor westminster have in truth any claim to it, the line being borrowed, with a slight change, from an epigram by crashaw:-- 'joann. , '_aquæ in vinum versæ. unde rubor vestris et non sua purpura lymphis? qua rosa mirantes tam nova mutat aquas? numen, convinvæ, præsens agnoscite numen, nympha pudica_ deum _vidit, et erubuit_.' malone. what gave your springs a brightness not their own? what rose so strange the wond'ring waters flushed? heaven's hand, oh guests; heaven's hand may here be known; the spring's coy nymph has seen her god and blushed. [ ] 'he that made the verse following (some ascribe it to giraldus cambrensis) could adore both the sun rising, and the sun setting, when he could so cleanly honour king henry ii, then departed, and king richard succeeding. "_mira cano, sol occubuit, nox nulla sequutaest_."' camden's _remains_ ( ), p. . [ ] 'when mr. hume began to be known in the world as a philosopher, mr. white, a decent, rich merchant of london, said to him:--"i am surprised, mr. hume, that a man of your good sense should think of being a philosopher. why, _i_ now took it into my head to be a philosopher for some time, but tired of it most confoundedly, and very soon gave it up." "pray, sir," said mr. hume, "in what branch of philosophy did you employ your researches? what books did you read?" "books?" said mr. white; "nay sir, i read no books, but i used to sit whole forenoons a-yawning and poking the fire." _boswelliana_, p. . the french were more successful than mr. edwards in the pursuit of philosophy, horace walpole wrote from paris in (_letters_, iv. ):--'the generality of the men, and more than the generality, are dull and empty. they have taken up gravity, thinking it was philosophy and english, and so have acquired nothing in the room of their natural levity and cheerfulness.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] i am not absolutely sure but this was my own suggestion, though it is truly in the character of edwards. boswell. [ ] sixty-nine. he was born in . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'o my coevals! remnants of yourselves! poor human ruins, tottering o'er the grave! shall we, shall aged men, like aged trees, strike deeper their vile roots, and closer cling, still more enamoured of this wretched soil?' young's _night thoughts_, night iv. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . according to mrs. piozzi 'he liked the expression so well that he often repeated it.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . he wrote to her:--'have you not observed in all our conversations that my _genius_ is always in extremes; that i am very noisy or very silent; very gloomy or very merry; very sour or very kind?' _piozzi letters_, ii. . in mme. d'arblay's _diary_ (ii. ) we read that 'dr. johnson is never his best when there is nobody to draw him out;' and in her _memoirs of dr. burney_ (ii. ) she adds that 'the masterly manner in which, as soon as any topic was started, he seized it in all its bearings, had so much the air of belonging to the leader of the discourse, that this singularity was unsuspected save by the experienced observation of long years of acquaintance.' malone wrote in :--'i have always found him very communicative; ready to give his opinion on any subject that was mentioned. he seldom, however, starts a subject himself; but it is very easy to lead him into one.' prior's _malone_, p. . what dugald stewart says of adam smith (_life_, p. ) was equally true of johnson:--'he was scarcely ever known to start a new topic himself, or to appear unprepared upon those topics that were introduced by others.' johnson, in his long fits of silence, was perhaps like cowper, but when aroused he was altogether unlike. cowper says of himself:--'the effect of such continual listening to the language of a heart hopeless and deserted is that i can never give much more than half my attention to what is started by others, and very rarely start anything myself.' southey's _cowper_, v. . [ ] in summer , additional and more expensive decorations having been introduced, the price of admission was raised to two shillings. i cannot approve of this. the company may be more select; but a number of the honest commonalty are, i fear, excluded from sharing in elegant and innocent entertainment. an attempt to abolish the one-shilling gallery at the playhouse has been very properly counteracted. boswell. [ ] _regale_, as a noun, is not in johnson's dictionary. it was a favourite word with miss burney. [ ] 'tyers is described in _the idler_, no. , under the name of tom restless; "a circumstance," says mr. nichols, "pointed out to me by dr. johnson himself."' _lit. anec_. viii. . 'when tom restless rises he goes into a coffee-house, where he creeps so near to men whom he takes to be reasoners, as to hear their discourse, and endeavours to remember something which, when it has been strained through tom's head, is so near to nothing, that what it once was cannot be discovered. this he carries round from friend to friend through a circle of visits, till, hearing what each says upon the question, he becomes able at dinner to say a little himself; and as every great genius relaxes himself among his inferiors, meets with some who wonder how so young a man can talk so wisely.' [ ] 'that accurate judge of human life, dr. johnson, has often been heard by me to observe, that it was the greatest misfortune which could befall a man to have been bred to no profession, and pathetically to regret that this misfortune was his own.' _more's practical piety_, p. . markland. [ ] he had wished to study it. see _ante_, i. . [ ] the fourth earl of lichfield, the chancellor of oxford, died in . the title became extinct in , on the death of the fifth earl. the present title was created in . courthope's _hist. peerage_, p. . [ ] see _post_, march , , where boswell vexed him in much the same way. [ ] i am not entirely without suspicion that johnson may have felt a little momentary envy; for no man loved the good things of this life better than he did; and he could not but be conscious that he deserved a much larger share of them, than he ever had. i attempted in a newspaper to comment on the above passage, in the manner of warburton, who must be allowed to have shewn uncommon ingenuity, in giving to any authour's text whatever meaning he chose it should carry. [_ante_, ii. , note .] as this imitation may amuse my readers, i shall here introduce it:-- 'no saying of dr. johnson's has been more misunderstood than his applying to mr. burke when he first saw him at his fine place at beaconsfield, _non equidem invideo; miror magis_. these two celebrated men had been friends for many years before mr. burke entered on his parliamentary career. they were both writers, both members of the literary club; when, therefore, dr. johnson saw mr. burke in a situation so much more splendid than that to which he himself had attained, he did not mean to express that he thought it a disproportionate prosperity; but while he, as a philosopher, asserted an exemption from envy, _non equidem invideo_, he went on in the words of the poet _miror magis_; thereby signifying, either that he was occupied in admiring what he was glad to see; or, perhaps, that considering the general lot of men of superiour abilities, he wondered that fortune, who is represented as blind, should, in this instance, have been so just.' boswell. johnson in his youth had translated 'non equidem invideo; miror magis' (virgil, _eclogues_, i. ii) by 'my admiration only i exprest, (no spark of envy harbours in my breast).' _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_ ii. . [ ] this neglect was avenged a few years after goldsmith's death, when lord camden sought to enter the literary club and was black-balled. 'i am sorry to add,' wrote mr. [sir william] jones in , 'that lord camden and the bishop of chester were rejected. when bishops and chancellors honour us by offering to dine with us at a tavern, it seems very extraordinary that we should ever reject such an offer; but there is no reasoning on the caprice of men.' _life of sir w. jones_, p. . [ ] cradock (_memoirs_, i. ) was dining with the literary club, when garrick arrived very late, full-dressed. 'he made many apologies; he had been unexpectedly detained at the house of lords, and lord camden had insisted upon setting him down at the door of the hotel in his own carriage. johnson said nothing, but he looked a volume.' [ ] miss. [per errata; originally: mrs.] burney records this year ( ) that mrs. thrale said to johnson, 'garrick is one of those whom you suffer nobody to abuse but yourself; for if any other person speaks against him, you browbeat him in a minute. "why, madam," answered he, "they don't know when to abuse him, and when to praise him; i will allow no man to speak ill of david that he does not deserve."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] the passage is in a letter dated dublin, oct. , . 'here is my maintenance,' wrote swift, 'and here my convenience. if it pleases god to restore me to my health, i shall readily make a third journey; if not we must part, as all human creatures have parted.' he never made the third journey. swift's _works_, ed. , xvii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] no doubt percy. [ ] the philosopher was bias. cicero, _paradoxa_, i. [ ] johnson recorded of this day (_pr. and med_. p. ):--'we sat till the time of worship in the afternoon, and then came again late, at the psalms. not easily, i think, hearing the sermon, or not being attentive, i fell asleep.' [ ] marshall's _minutes of agriculture_. [ ] it was only in hay-time and harvest that marshall approved of sunday work. he had seen in the wet harvest of so much corn wasted that he 'was ambitious to set the patriotic example' of sunday labour. one sunday he 'promised every man who would work two shillings, as much roast beef and plumb pudding as he would eat, with as much ale as it might be fit for him to drink.' nine men and three boys came. in a note in the edition of , he says:--'the author has been informed that an old law exists (mentioned by dugdale), which tolerates husbandmen in working on sundays in harvest; and that, in proof thereof, a gentleman in the north has uniformly carried one load every year on a sunday.' he adds:--'jan. . the particulars of this note were furnished by the late dr. samuel johnson; at whose request some considerable part of what was originally written, and _printed_ on this subject was cancelled. that which was published and which is now offered again to the public is, _in effect_, what dr. johnson approved; or, let me put it in the most cautious terms, that of which _dr. johnson did not disapprove_.' marshall's _minutes etc., on agriculture_, ii. - . [ ] saturday was april . [ ] william duncombe, esq. he married the sister of john hughes the poet; was the authour of two tragedies and other ingenious productions; and died th feb. , aged . malone. in his life of hughes (_works_, vii. ), johnson says 'an account of hughes is prefixed to his works by his relation, the late mr. duncombe, a man whose blameless elegance deserved the same respect.' [ ] see _ante_, i. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see appendix a. [ ] no doubt parson home, better known as home tooke, who was at this time in prison. he had signed an advertisement issued by the constitutional society asking for a subscription for 'the relief of the widows, etc., of our beloved american fellow-subjects, who had been inhumanly murdered by the king's troops at lexington and concord.' for this 'very gross libel' he had in the previous november been sentenced to a fine of £ and a year's imprisonment. ann. reg. xx. - . see _post_, may , . [ ] mr. croker's conjecture that dr. shebbeare was the gentleman is supported by the favourable way in which boswell (_post_, may ) speaks of shebbeare as 'that gentleman,' and calls him 'a respectable name in literature.' shebbeare, on nov. , , was sentenced by lord mansfield to stand in the pillory, to be confined for three years, and to give security for his good behaviour for seven years, for a libellous pamphlet intitled _a sixth letter to the people of england_. _gent. mag_. xxviii. . (see _ante_, p. , note .) on feb. , , the under-sheriff of middlesex was found guilty of a contempt of court, in having suffered shebbeare to stand _upon_ the pillory only, and not _in_ it. _ib_. xxix. . before the seven years had run out, shebbeare was pensioned. smollett, in the preface to _humphry clinker_, represents the publisher of that novel as writing to the imaginary author:--'if you should be sentenced to the pillory your fortune is made. as times go, that's a sure step to honour and preferment. i shall think myself happy if i can lend you a lift.' see also in the same book mr. bramble's letter of june . [ ] see p. of this volume. boswell. why boswell mentions this gentleman at all, seeing that nothing that he says is reported, is not clear. perhaps he gave occasion to johnson's attack on the americans. it is curious also why both here and in the account given of dr. percy's dinner his name is not mentioned. in the presence of this unknown gentleman johnson violently attacked first percy, and next boswell. [ ] mr. langton no doubt. see _ante_, iii. . he had paid johnson a visit that morning. _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , where johnson says that 'her learning is that of a schoolboy in one of the lower forms.' [ ] on this day johnson recorded in his review of the past year:-- 'my nights have been commonly, not only restless, but painful and fatiguing.' he adds, 'i have written a little of the _lives of the poets_, i think with all my usual vigour.... this year the th of march passed away without memorial. poor tetty, whatever were our faults and failings, we loved each other. i did not forget thee yesterday. couldest thou have lived!' _pr. and med_. pp. , . [ ] mr. langton. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] malone was told by baretti that 'dr. james picked up on a stall a book of greek hymns. he brought it to johnson, who ran his eyes over the pages and returned it. a year or two afterwards he dined at sir joshua reynolds's with dr. musgrave, the editor of _euripides_. musgrave made a great parade of his greek learning, and among other less known writers mentioned these hymns, which he thought none of the company were acquainted with, and extolled them highly. johnson said the first of them was indeed very fine, and immediately repeated it. it consisted of ten or twelve lines.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] by richard tickell, the grandson of addison's friend. walpole's _letters_, vii. [ ] she was a younger sister of peg woffington (_ante_, p. ). johnson described her as 'a very airy lady.' (boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , .) murphy (_life_, p. ) says that 'johnson, sitting at table with her, took hold of her hand in the middle of dinner, and held it close to his eye, wondering at the delicacy and the whiteness, till with a smile she asked:--"will he give it to me again when he has done with it?"' he told miss burney that 'mrs. cholmondeley was the first person who publicly praised and recommended _evelina_ among the wits.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . miss burney wrote in :--'mrs. cholmondeley has been praising _evelina_; my father said that i could not have had a greater compliment than making two such women my friends as mrs. thrale and mrs. cholmondeley, for they were severe and knowing, and afraid of praising _à tort et à travers_, as their opinions are liable to be quoted.' _ib_. i. . to mrs. cholmondeley goldsmith, just before his death, shewed a copy in manuscript of his _retaliation_. no one else, it should seem, but burke had seen it. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] dr. johnson is supported by the usage of preceding writers. so in _musarum deliciae_, vo. (the writer is speaking of suckling's play entitled _aglaura_, printed in folio):-- 'this great voluminous _pamphlet_ may be said to be like one that hath more hair than head.' malone. addison, in _the spectator_, no. says that 'the most minute pocket-author hath beneath him the writers of all pamphlets, or works that are only stitched. as for a pamphleteer he takes place of none but of the authors of single sheets.' the inferiority of a pamphlet is shewn in johnson's _works_, ed. , xi. :--'johnson would not allow the word _derange_ to be an english word. "sir," said a gentleman who had some pretensions to literature, "i have seen it in a book." "not in a _bound_ book," said johnson; "_disarrange_ is the word we ought to use instead of it."' in his _dictionary_ he gives neither _derange_ nor _disarrange_. dr. franklin, who had been a printer and was likely to use the term correctly, writing in , mentions 'the artifices made use of to puff up a paper of verses into a pamphlet.' _memoirs_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, march , , for 'the exquisite address' with which johnson evaded a question of this kind. [ ] garrick insisted on great alterations being made in _the good natured man_. when goldsmith resisted this, 'he proposed a sort of arbitration,' and named as his arbitrator whitehead the laureate. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . it was of whitehead's poetry that johnson said 'grand nonsense is insupportable.' _ante_, i. . _the good natured man_ was brought out by colman, as well as _she stoops to conquer_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'this play, written in ridicule of the musical italian drama, was first offered to cibber and his brethren at drury lane, and rejected; it being then carried to rich had the effect, as was ludicrously said, of _making_ gay _rich_ and rich _gay_.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in opposition to this mr. croker quotes horace:--- 'populus me sibilat; at mihi plaudo ipse domi, simul ac nummos contemplor in arca.' 'i'm hissed in public; but in secret blest, i count my money and enjoy my chest.' horace, _sat_. i. i. . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] the anecdote is told in _menagiana_, iii. , but not of a '_maid_ of honour,' nor as an instance of '_exquisite flattery_.' 'm. d'uzès était chevalier d'honneur de la reine. cette princesse lui demanda un jour quelle heure il était; il répondit, "madame, l'heure qu'il plaira à votre majesté."' menage tells it as _a pleasantry_ of m. d'uzès; but m. de la monnoye says, that this duke was remarkable for _naïvetés_ and blunders, and was a kind of _butt_, to whom the wits of the court used to attribute all manner of absurdities. croker. [ ] horace, _odes_, iv. . ii. the common reading is _solutis_. boswell (_hebrides_, aug. , ) says:--'mr. wilkes told me this himself with classical admiration.' [ ] see this question fully investigated in the notes upon my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, edit. , p. , _et seq_. [aug. ]. and here, as a lawyer mindful of the maxim _suum cuique tribuito_, i cannot forbear to mention, that the additional note beginning with 'i find since the former edition,' is not mine, but was obligingly furnished by mr. malone, who was so kind as to superintend the press while i was in scotland, and the first part of the second edition was printing. he would not allow me to ascribe it to its proper authour; but, as it is exquisitely acute and elegant, i take this opportunity, without his knowledge, to do him justice. boswell. see also _ante_, i. , and _post_, may , . [ ] horace, _sat_. i. i. . malone points out that this is the motto to _an enquiry into customary estates and tenants' rights, &c., with some considerations for restraining excessive fines_. by everard fleetwood, vo, . [ ] a _modus_ is _something paid as a compensation for tithes on the supposition of being a moderate equivalent_. johnson's _dictionary_. it was more desirable for the landlord than the parson. thus t. warton, in his _progress of discontent_, represents the parson who had taken a college living regretting his old condition, 'when calm around the common-room i puffed my daily pipe's perfume; ... and every night i went to bed, without a _modus_ in my head.' t. warton's _poems_, ii. . [ ] fines are payments due to the lord of a manor on every admission of a new tenant. in some manors these payments are fixed by custom; they are then _fines certain_; in others they are not fixed, but depend on the reasonableness of the lord and the paying capacity of the tenant; they are _fines uncertain_. the advantage of _fines certain_, like that of a _modus_ in tithes, is that a man knows what he shall get. [ ] _ante_, iii. . [ ] mr. p. cunningham has, i think, enabled us to clear up boswell's mystery, by finding in the _garrick corres_, ii. , may , that johnson's poor friend, mauritius lowe, the painter, lived at no. , hedge lane, in a state of extreme distress. croker. see _post_, april , , and april , . [ ] 'in all his intercourse with mankind, pope had great delight in artifice, and endeavoured to attain all his purposes by indirect and unsuspected methods. "he hardly drank tea without a stratagem." ["nor take her tea without a stratagem." young's _universal passion, sat_. vi.] he practised his arts on such small occasions that lady bolingbroke used to say, in a french phrase, that "he played the politician about cabbages and turnips."' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] johnson, _post_, under march , , speaks of 'the vain ostentatious importance of many persons in quoting the authority of dukes and lords.' in his going to the other extreme, as he said he did, may be found the explanation of boswell's 'mystery.' for of mystery--'the wisdom of blockheads,' as horace walpole calls it (_letters_, iii. )--johnson was likely to have as little as any man. as for grosvenor-square, the thrales lived there for a short time, and johnson had a room in the house (_post_, march , ). [ ] tacitus, _agricola_, ch. xxx. 'the unknown always passes for something peculiarly grand.' [ ] johnson defines _toy-shop_ as 'a shop where playthings and little nice manufactures are sold.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that 'the fore-top of all his wigs were (sic) burned by the candle down to the very net-work. mr. thrale's valet, for that reason, kept one always in his own hands, with which he met him at the parlour door when the bell had called him down to dinner.' cumberland (_memoirs_, i. ) says that he wore 'a brown coat with metal buttons, black waistcoat and worsted stockings, with a flowing bob-wig; they were in perfectly good trim, and with the ladies he had nothing of the slovenly philosopher about him.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] here he either was mistaken, or had a different notion of an extensive sale from what is generally entertained: for the fact is, that four thousand copies of that excellent work were sold very quickly. a new edition has been printed since his death, besides that in the collection of his works. boswell. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'in the neighbourhood of lichfield [in ] the principal gentlemen clothed their hounds in tartan plaid, with which they hunted a fox, dressed in a red uniform.' mahon's _hist. of england_, iv. . [ ] so boswell in his _hebrides_ (nov. ), hoping that his father and johnson have met in heaven, observes, 'that they have met in a place where there is no room for whiggism.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] _paradise lost_, bk. i. . butler (_miscellaneous thoughts_, . ) had said:-- 'the devil was the first o' th' name from whom the race of rebels came.' [ ] in the phraseology of scotland, i should have said, 'mr. john spottiswoode the younger, _of that ilk_.' johnson knew that sense of the word very well, and has thus explained it in his _dictionary_, _voce_ ilk:--'it also signifies "the same;" as, _mackintosh of that ilk_, denotes a gentleman whose surname and the title of his estate are the same.' boswell. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] he wrote to dr. taylor on oct. of the next year:--'there are those still who either fright themselves, or would fright others, with an invasion.... such a fleet [a fleet equal to the transportation of twenty or of ten thousand men] cannot be hid in a creek; it must be safely [?] visible; and yet i believe no man has seen the man that has seen it. the ships of war were within sight of plymouth, and only within sight.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] it is observed in waller's _life_, in the _biographia britannica_, that he drank only water; and that while he sat in a company who were drinking wine, 'he had the dexterity to accommodate his discourse to the pitch of theirs as it _sunk_.' if excess in drinking be meant, the remark is acutely just. but surely, a moderate use of wine gives a gaiety of spirits which water-drinkers know not. boswell. 'waller passed his time in the company that was highest, both in rank and wit, from which even his obstinate sobriety did not exclude him. though he drank water, he was enabled by his fertility of mind to heighten the mirth of bacchanalian assemblies; and mr. saville said that "no man in england should keep him company without drinking but ned waller."' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] pope. _satires_, prologue, . . [ ] as he himself had said in his letter of thanks for his diploma of doctor of laws, 'nemo sibi placens non lactatur' (_ante_, ii. ). [ ] 'who mean to live within our proper sphere, dear to ourselves, and to our country dear.' francis. horace, _epistles_, i. . . [ ] johnson recommended this before. _ante_, p. . boswell tried abstinence once before. _ante_, ii. , note , and iii. , note . [ ] johnson wrote to boswell in :--'reynolds has taken too much to strong liquor, and seems to delight in his new character.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] at the castle of the bishop of munster 'there was,' writes temple, 'nothing remarkable but the most episcopal way of drinking that could be invented. as soon as we came in the great hall there stood many flagons ready charged; the general called for wine to drink the king's health; they brought him a formal bell of silver gilt, that might hold about two quarts or more; he took it empty, pulled out the clapper, and gave it me who (sic) he intended to drink to, then had the bell filled, drunk it off to his majesty's health; then asked me for the clapper, put it in, turned down the bell, and rung it out to shew he had played fair and left nothing in it; took out the clapper, desired me to give it to whom i pleased, then gave his bell to be filled again, and brought it to me. i that never used to drink, and seldom would try, had commonly some gentlemen with me that served for that purpose when it was necessary.' temple's _works_, ed. , i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note , and iii. . [ ] the passages are in the _jerusalem_, canto i. st. , and in _lucretius_, i. , and again iv. . croker. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where boswell says that 'no man was more scrupulously inquisitive in order to discover the truth;' and iii. , . [ ] see _post_, under may , . [ ] 'sir,' said johnson, 'i love robertson, and i won't talk of his book.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'i was once in company with smith,' said johnson in , 'and we did not take to each other.' _ante_, i. . see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] this experiment which madame dacier made in vain, has since been tried in our own language, by the editor of _ossian_, and we must either think very meanly of his abilities, or allow that dr. johnson was in the right. and mr. cowper, a man of real genius, has miserably failed in his blank verse translation. boswell. johnson, in his _life of pope_ (_works_, viii. ), says:--'i have read of a man, who being by his ignorance of greek compelled to gratify his curiosity with the latin printed on the opposite page, declared that from the rude simplicity of the lines literally rendered he formed nobler ideas of the homeric majesty, than from the laboured elegance of polished versions,' though johnson nowhere speaks of cowper, yet his writings were not altogether unknown to him. 'dr. johnson,' wrote cowper, 'read and recommended my first volume.' southey's _cowper_, v. . [ ] 'i bought the first volume of _manchester_, but could not read it; it was much too learned for me, and seemed rather an account of babel than manchester, i mean in point of antiquity.' walpole's _letters_, vi. . [ ] henry was injured by gilbert stuart, the malignant editor of the _edinburgh magazine and review_, who 'had vowed that he would crush his work,' and who found confederates to help him. he asked hume to review it, thinking no doubt that one historian would attack another; when he received from him a highly favourable review he would not publish it. it contained a curious passage, where hume points out that henry and robertson were clergymen, and continues:--'these illustrious examples, if any thing, must make the _infidel abashed of his vain cavils_.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] hume wrote to millar:--'hamilton and balfour have offered robertson [for his _scotland_] a very unusual price; no less than £ for one edition of .' _ib_. ii. . as robertson did not accept this offer, no doubt he got a better one. even if he got no more, it would not have seemed 'a moderate price' to a man whose preferment hitherto had been only £ a year. (see dugald stewart's _robertson_, p. .) stewart adds (_ib_. p. ):--'it was published on feb. , . before the end of the month the author was desired by his bookseller to prepare for a second edition.' by it was in its fourteenth edition. _ib_. p. . the publisher was millar; the price two guineas. _gent. mag_. xxix. . [ ] lord clive. see _post_, p. , and oct. , . [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) gives an instance of this 'romantick humour.' 'robertson was very much a master of conversation, and very desirous to lead it, and to raise theories that sometimes provoked the laugh against him. he went a jaunt into england with dundas, cockburn and sinclair; who, seeing a gallows on a neighbouring hillock, rode round to have a nearer view of the felon on the gallows. when they met in the inn, robertson began a dissertation on the character of nations, and how much the english, like the romans, were hardened by their cruel diversions of cock-fighting, bull-baiting, &c.; for had they not observed three englishmen on horseback do what no scotchman or--. here dundas interrupted him, and said, "what! did you not know, principal, that it was cockburn and sinclair and me?" this put an end to theories, &c., for that day.' [ ] this was a favourite word with johnson and mrs. thrale. 'long live mrs. g. that _downs_ my mistress,' he wrote (_piozzi letters_, ii. ). 'did you quite _down_ her?' he asked of another lady (_ib_. p. ). miss burney caught up the word: 'i won't be _downed_,' she wrote. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) tells how robertson, with one of his pupils, and he, visited at a house where some excellent claret flowed freely. 'after four days robertson took me into a window before dinner, and with some solemnity proposed to make a motion to shorten the drinking, if i would second him--"because," added he, "although you and i may go through it, i am averse to it on my pupil's account." i answered that i was afraid it would not do, as our toastmaster might throw ridicule upon us, as we were to leave the island the day after the next, and that we had not proposed any abridgement till the old claret was all done, the last of which we had drunk yesterday. "well, well," replied the doctor, "be it so then, and let us end as we began."' [ ] johnson, when asked to hear robertson preach, said:--'i will hear him if he will get up into a tree and preach; but i will not give a sanction by my presence to a presbyterian assembly.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . see also _ib_. nov. . [ ] mrs. piozzi confidently mentions this as having passed in scotland, _anecdotes_, p. . boswell. she adds:--'i was shocked to think how he [johnson] must have disgusted him [robertson].' she, we may well believe, felt no more shock than robertson felt disgust. [ ] see voltaire's _siècle de louis xiv_, ch. xiv. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] it was on this day that johnson dictated to boswell his latin translation of dryden's lines on milton. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] '"well, sir," said he, "we had good talk." boswell. "yes sir; you tossed and gored several persons."' _ante_, ii. . [ ] very likely their host. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] _acts_, x. and . [ ] mr. croker says, 'no doubt dr. robertson;' see _post_, under june , , where johnson says much the same of 'an authour of considerable eminence.' in this case mr. croker says, 'probably dr. robertson.' i have little doubt that dr. beattie was there meant. he may be meant also here, for the description of the conversation does not agree with what we are told of robertson. see _ante_, p. . note . perhaps, however, dr. blair was the eminent author. it is in boswell's manner to introduce the same person in consecutive paragraphs as if there were two persons. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] chappe d'auteroche writes:--'la douceur de sa physionomie et sa vivacité annonçaient plutôt quelque indiscrétion que l'ombre d'un crime. tous ceux que j'ai consultés par la suite m'ont cependant assuré qu'elle était coupable.' _voyage en sibérie_, i. . lord kames says:--'of whatever indiscretion she might have been guilty, the sweetness of her countenance and her composure left not in the spectators the slightest suspicion of guilt.' she was cruelly knouted, her tongue was cut out, and she was banished to siberia. kames's _sketches_, i. . [ ] mr. croker says:--'here i think the censure is quite unjust. lord kames gives in the clearest terms the same explanation.' kames made many corrections in the later editions. on turning to the first, i found, as i expected, that johnson's censure was quite just. kames says (i. ):--'whatever be the cause of high or low interest, i am certain that the quantity of circulating coin can have no influence. supposing the half of our money to be withdrawn, a hundred pounds lent ought still to afford but five pounds as interest; because if the principal be doubled in value, so is also the interest.' this passage was struck out in later editions. [ ] 'johnson had an extraordinary admiration of this lady, notwithstanding she was a violent whig. in answer to her high-flown speeches for _liberty_, he addressed to her the following epigram, of which i presume to offer a translation:-- '_liber ut esse velim suasiti pulchra maria ut maneam liber pulchra maria vale_,' adieu, maria! since you'd have me free; for, who beholds thy charms a slave must be. a correspondent of _the gentleman's magazine_, who subscribes himself sciolus, to whom i am indebted for several excellent remarks, observes, 'the turn of dr. johnson's lines to miss aston, whose whig principles he had been combating, appears to me to be taken from an ingenious epigram in the _menagiana_ [vol. iii. p. , edit. ] on a young lady who appeared at a masquerade, _habillée en jésuite_, during the fierce contentions of the followers of molinos and jansenius concerning free-will:-- "on s'étonne ici que caliste ait pris l'habit de moliniste. puisque cette jeune beauté ote à chacun sa liberté, n'est-ce pas une janseniste?" boswell. johnson, in his _criticism upon pope's epitaphs_ (_works_, viii. ), quotes the opinion of a 'lady of great beauty and excellence.' she was, says mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), molly aston. mrs. piozzi, in her _letters_ (ii. ), writes:--'nobody has ever mentioned what became of miss aston's letters, though he once told me they should be the last papers he would destroy.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] pope's _essay on man_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'march , . you say you expect much information about belleisle, but there has not (in the style of the newspapers) the least particular _transpired_.' horace walpole's _letters_, i. . 'jan. , . you will not let one word of it _transpire_.' chesterfield's _misc. works_, iv. . 'it would be next to a miracle that a fact of this kind should be known to a whole parish, and not _transpire_ any farther.' fielding's _tom jones_, bk. ii. c. . _tom jones_ was published before the _dictionary_, but not so walpole's _letters_ and chesterfield's _misc. works_. i have not found a passage in which bolingbroke uses the word, but i have not read all his works. [ ] 'the words which our authors have introduced by their knowledge of foreign languages, or ignorance of their own ... i have registered as they occurred, though commonly only to censure them, and warn others against the folly of naturalising useless foreigners to the injury of the natives.' johnson's _works_, v. . 'if an academy should be established for the cultivation of our style, which i, who can never wish to see dependance multiplied, hope the spirit of english liberty will hinder or destroy, let them, instead of compiling grammars and dictionaries, endeavour with all their influence to stop the license of translators, whose idleness and ignorance, if it be suffered to proceed, will reduce us to babble a dialect of france.' _ib_. p. . 'i have rarely admitted any words not authorised by former writers; for i believe that whoever knows the english tongue in its present extent will be able to express his thoughts without further help from other nations.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] boswell on one occasion used _it came out_ where a lover of fine words would have said _it transpired_. see boswell's _hebrides_, november . [ ] the record no doubt was destroyed with the other papers that boswell left to his literary executors (_ante_, p. , note ). [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'of johnson's pride i have heard reynolds observe, that if any man drew him into a state of obligation without his own consent, that man was the first he would affront by way of clearing off the account.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] this had happened the day before (may ) in the writ of error in horne's case (_ante_, p. ). _ann. reg_. xii. . [ ] '_to enucleate_. to solve; to clear.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] in the original _me_. [ ] pope himself (_moral essays_, iii. ) attacks the sentiment contained in this stanza. he says:-- 'what nature wants (a phrase i must distrust) extends to luxury, extends to lust.' mr. elwin (pope's _works_, ii. ) doubts the genuineness of this suppressed stanza. montezuma, in dryden's _indian emperour_, act ii. sc. , says:-- 'that lust of power we from your godheads have, you're bound to please those appetites you gave.' [ ] 'antoine arnauld, surnommé le grand arnauld, théologien et philosophe, né à paris le février , mort le août à bruxelles.' _nouv. biog. gén_. iii. . [ ] 'it may be discovered that when pope thinks himself concealed he indulges the common vanity of common men, and triumphs in those distinctions which he had affected to despise. he is proud that his book was presented to the king and queen by the right honourable sir robert walpole; he is proud that they had read it before; he is proud that the edition was taken off by the nobility and persons of the first distinction.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] _othello_, act iii. sc. . [ ] mr. langton, i have little doubt. not only does that which johnson says of sluggishness fit his character, but the fact that he is spoken of in the next paragraph points to him. [ ] mr. langton. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] we may wonder whether _pasted_ is strictly used. it seems likely that the wealthy brewer, who had a taste for the fine arts, afforded hogarth at least a frame. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] baths are called hummums in the east, and thence these hotels in covent garden, where there were baths, were called by that name. croker. [ ] beauclerk. [ ] bolingbroke. _ante_, ii. . [ ] lord clive. _ante_, p. . [ ] _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] johnson, or boswell in reporting him, here falls into an error. the editor of chesterfield's _works_ says (ii. l ), 'that being desirous of giving a specimen of his lordship's eloquence he has made choice of the three following speeches; the first in the strong nervous style of demosthenes; the two latter in the witty, ironical manner of tully.' now the first of these speeches is not johnson's, for it was reported in _the gent. mag_. for july, , p. , nine months before his first contribution to that paper. in spite of great differences this report and that in chesterfield's _works_ are substantially the same. if johnson had any hand in the authorised version he merely revised the report already published. nor did he always improve it, as will be seen by comparing with chesterfield's _works_, ii. , the following passage from the _gent. mag_. p. :--'my lords, we ought in all points to be tender of property. wit is the property of those who are possessed of it, and very often the only property they have. thank god, my lords, this is not our case; we are otherwise provided for.' the other two speeches are his. in the collected works (xi. , ) they are wrongly assigned to lord carteret. see _ante_, i. appendix a. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] these words are quoted by kames, iii. . in his abbreviation he perhaps passed over by accident the words that johnson next quotes. if clarendon did not believe the story, he wished his readers to believe it. he gives more than five pages to it, and he ends by saying:-- 'whatever there was of all this, it is a notorious truth, that when the news of the duke's murder (which happened within few months after) was brought to his mother, she seemed not in the least degree surprised; but received it as if she had foreseen it.' according to the story, he had told her of the warning which had come to him through his father's ghost. clarendon's _history_, ed. , i. . [ ] kames maintains (iii. ) that schools are not needful for the children of the labouring poor. they would be needful, 'if without regular education we could have no knowledge of the principles of religion and of morality. but providence has not left man in a state so imperfect: religion and morality are stamped on his heart; and none can be ignorant of them, who attend to their own perceptions.' [ ] 'oct. , . mr. elliot brings us woeful accounts of the french ladies, of the decency of their conversation, and the nastiness of their behaviour.' walpole's _letters_, iv. . walpole wrote from paris on nov. , , 'paris is the ugliest, beastliest town in the universe,' and describes the nastiness of the talk of french women of the first rank. _ib_. p. . mrs. piozzi, nearly twenty years later, places among 'the contradictions one meets with every moment' at paris, 'a countess in a morning, her hair dressed, with diamonds too perhaps, and a dirty black handkerchief about her neck.' piozzi's _journey_, i. . see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, under aug. , . [ ] see appendix b. [ ] his lordship was, to the last, in the habit of telling this story rather too often. croker. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'our eyes and ears may convince us,' wrote wesley, 'there is not a less happy body of men in all england than the country farmers. in general their life is supremely dull; and it is usually unhappy too; for of all people in the kingdom, they are the most discontented, seldom satisfied either with god or man.' southey's _wesley_, i. . he did not hold with johnson as to the upper classes. 'oh! how hard it is,' he said, 'to be shallow enough for a polite audience.' _ib_. p. . [ ] horne says:--'even s. johnson, though mistakenly, has attempted and, and would find no difficulty with therefore' (ed. , p. ). however, in a note on p. he says:--'i could never read his preface [to his _dictionary_] without shedding a tear.' see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] in mr. horne tooke's enlargement of that _letter_, which he has since published with the title of [greek: epea pteroenta]; or, the _diversions of purley_; he mentions this compliment, as if dr. johnson instead of _several_ of his etymologies had said _all_. his recollection having thus magnified it, shews how ambitious he was of the approbation of so great a man. boswell. horne tooke says (ed. , part i, p. ) 'immediately after the publication of my _letter to mr. dunning_ i was informed by mr. s. [seward], an intimate friend of dr. johnson, that he had declared that, if he lived to give a new edition of his _dictionary_, he should certainly adopt my derivations.' boswell and horne tooke, says stephens (_life of tooke_, ii. ), had an altercation. 'happening to meet at a gentleman's house, mr. boswell proposed to make up the breach, on the express condition, however, that they should drink a bottle of wine each between the toasts. but mr. tooke would not give his assent unless the liquor should be brandy. by the time a quart had been quaffed boswell was left sprawling on the floor.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . thurlow, the attorney-general, pressed that horne should be set in the pillory, 'observing that imprisonment would be "a slight inconvenience to one of sedentary habits."' it was during his imprisonment that he wrote his _letter to mr. dunning_. campbell's _chancellors_, ed. , v. . horace walpole says that 'lord mansfield was afraid, and would not venture the pillory.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] '_bulse_, a certain quantity of diamonds' (india). webster's _dictionary_. [ ] 'he raised,' says hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'the medical character to such a height of dignity as was never seen in this or any other country. i have heard it said that when he began to practise, he was a frequenter of the meeting at stepney where his father preached; and that when he was sent for out of the assembly, his father would in his prayer insert a petition in behalf of the sick person. i once mentioned this to johnson, who said it was too gross for belief; but it was not so at batson's [a coffee-house frequented by physicians]; it passed there as a current belief.' see _ante_, i. . young has introduced him in the second of his _night thoughts_-- 'that time is mine, o mead, to thee i owe; fain would i pay thee with eternity.' horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) says 'that he had nothing but pretensions.' [ ] on oct. , , burgoyne's army surrendered to the americans at saratoga. one of the articles of the convention was 'that the army should march out of the camp with all the honours of war to a fixed place where they were to deposit their arms. it is said that general gates [the american commander] paid so nice and delicate an attention to the british military honour that he kept his army close within their lines, and did not suffer an american soldier to be a witness to the degrading spectacle of piling their arms.' _ann. reg_. xx. , . horace walpole, on lord cornwallis's capitulation in , wrote:--'the newspapers on the court side had been crammed with paragraphs for a fortnight, saying that lord cornwallis had declared he would never pile up his arms like burgoyne; that is, he would rather die sword in hand.' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] there was a colonel fullarton who took an important part in the war against tippoo in . mill's _british india_, ed. , iv. . [ ] 'to count is a modern practice, the ancient method was to guess; and when numbers are guessed, they are always magnified.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] he published in _an account of switzerland_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see appendix c. [ ] 'all unnecessary vows are folly, because they suppose a prescience of the future which has not been given us. they are, i think, a crime, because they resign that life to chance which god has given us to be regulated by reason; and superinduce a kind of fatality, from which it is the great privilege of our nature to be free.' _piozzi letters_, i. . johnson (_works_, vii. ) praises the 'just and noble thoughts' in cowley's lines which begin:-- 'where honour or where conscience does not bind, no other law shall shackle me; slave to myself i ne'er will be; nor shall my future actions be confined by my own present mind.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] juvenal, _sat_. iii. . imitated by johnson in _london_. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , and johnson's _tour into wales_, aug. , . [ ] the slip of paper on which he made the correction, is deposited by me in the noble library to which it relates, and to which i have presented other pieces of his hand-writing. boswell. in substituting _burns_ he resumes the reading of the first edition, in which the former of the two couplets ran:-- 'resistless burns the fever of renown, caught from the strong contagion of the gown.' 'the slip of paper and the other pieces of johnson's hand-writing' have been lost. at all events they are not in the bodleian. [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ), criticising milton's scheme of education, says:--'those authors therefore are to be read at schools that supply most axioms of prudence, most principles of moral truth, and most materials for conversation; and these purposes are best served by poets, orators, and historians. let me not be censured for this digression as pedantic or paradoxical; for if i have milton against me, i have socrates on my side. it was his labour to turn philosophy from the study of nature to speculations upon life; but the innovators whom i oppose are turning off attention from life to nature. they seem to think that we are placed here to watch the growth of plants, or the motions of the stars. socrates was rather of opinion that what we had to learn was how to do good and avoid evil. "[greek: hotti toi en megaroisi kakon t agathon te tetuktai]."' [ ] 'his ear was well-tuned, and his diction was elegant and copious, but his devotional poetry is, like that of others, unsatisfactory. the paucity of its topicks enforces perpetual repetition, and the sanctity of the matter rejects the ornaments of figurative diction. it is sufficient for watts to have done better than others what no man has done well.' _ib_. viii. . see _ante_, i. . mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that when 'johnson would inveigh against devotional poetry, and protest that all religious verses were cold and feeble,' she reminded him how 'when he would try to repeat the _dies iræ, dies illa_, he could never pass the stanza ending thus, _tantus labor non sit cassus_, without bursting into a flood of tears.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] dr. johnson was by no means attentive to minute accuracy in his _lives of the poets_; for notwithstanding my having detected this mistake, he has continued it. boswell. see _post_, iv. , note for a like instance of neglect. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'may , . we shall at least not doze, as we are used to do, in summer. the parliament is to have only short adjournments; and our senators, instead of retiring to horseraces (_their_ plough), are all turned soldiers, and disciplining militia. camps everywhere.' horace walpole's _letters_, vii. . it was a threat of invasion by the united forces of france and spain, at the time that we were at war with america, that caused the alarm. dr. j.h. burton (dr. a. carlyle's _auto_. p. ) points out, that while the militia of england was placed nearly in its present position by the act of , yet 'when a proposal for extending the system to scotland was suggested (sic), ministers were afraid to arm the people.' 'it is curious,' he continues, 'that for a reason almost identical ireland has been excepted from the volunteer organisation of a century later. it was not until that the militia acts were extended to scotland.' [ ] 'before dinner,' wrote miss burney in september of this year, 'to my great joy dr. johnson returned home from warley common.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . he wrote to mrs. thrale on oct. :--'a camp, however familiarly we may speak of it, is one of the great scenes of human life. war and peace divide the business of the world. camps are the habitations of those who conquer kingdoms, or defend them.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] third edition, p. [aug. ]. boswell. it was at fort george. 'he made a very good figure upon these topicks. he said to me afterwards that "he had talked ostentatiously."' [ ] when i one day at court expressed to general hall my sense of the honour he had done my friend, he politely answered, 'sir, i did _myself_ honour.' boswell. [ ] according to malone, 'mr. burke said of mr. boswell that good nature was so natural to him that he had no merit in possessing it, and that a man might as well assume to himself merit in possessing an excellent constitution.' _european mag_. , p. . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] langton. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] no doubt his house at langton. [ ] the wey canal. see _ante_, ii. . from _navigation_, i.e. a canal for internal navigation, we have _navvy_. a _canal_ was the common term for an ornamental pool, and for a time it seemed that _navigation_ and not _canal_ might be the term applied to artificial rivers. [ ] langton. [ ] 'he plunging downward shot his radiant head: dispelled the breathing air that broke his flight; shorn of his beams, a man to mortal sight.' dryden, quoted in johnson's _dictionary_ under _shorn_. the phrase first appears in _paradise lost_, i. . [ ] mrs. thrale, this same summer, 'asked whether mr. langton took any better care of his affairs. "no, madam," cried the doctor, "and never will. he complains of the ill-effects of habit, and rests contentedly upon a confessed indolence. he told his father himself that he had _no turn to economy_, but a thief might as well plead that he had no _turn to honesty_!"' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] locke, in his last words to collins, said:--'this world affords no solid satisfaction but the consciousness of well-doing, and the hopes of another life.' warburton's _divine legation_, i. xxvi. [ ] not the young brewer who was hoped for (_ante_, iii. ); therefore she is called 'poor thing.' one of mr. thrale's daughters lived to nov. , . [ ] on oct. johnson wrote:--'is my master [i.e. mr. thrale, _ante_, i. , note ] come to himself? does he talk, and walk, and look about him, as if there were yet something in the world for which it is worth while to live? or does he yet sit and say nothing? to grieve for evils is often wrong; but it is much more wrong to grieve without them.' _piozzi letters_. ii. . nine days later he wrote:--'you appear to me to be now floating on the spring-tide of prosperity. i think it very probably in your power to lay up £ a-year for every year to come, increasing all the time, what needs not be increased, the splendour of all external appearance. and surely such a state is not to be put into yearly hazard for the pleasure of _keeping the house full_, or the ambition of _out-brewing whitbread_? _piozzi letters_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . the following letter, of which a fac-simile is given at the beginning of vol. iii. of dr. franklin's _memoirs_, ed. , tells of 'a difference' between the famous printer of philadelphia and the king's printer of london. 'philada., july , . 'mr. strahan, 'you are a member of parliament, and one of that majority which has doomed my country to destruction.--you have begun to burn our towns, and murder our people.--look upon your hands!--they are stained with the blood of your relations! you and i were long friends:--you are now my enemy,--and 'i am, yours, 'b. franklin.' when peace was made between the two countries the old friendship was renewed. _ib_. iii. . [ ] on this day he wrote a touching letter to mr. elphinston, who had lost his wife (croker's _boswell_, p. , note). perhaps the thoughts thus raised in him led him to this act of reconciliation. [ ] dr. johnson here addresses his worthy friend, bennet langton, esq., by his title as captain of the lincolnshire militia, in which he has since been most deservedly raised to the rank of major. boswell. [ ] president of the royal society. [ ] the king visited warley camp on oct. . _ann. reg_. xxi. . [ ] he visited coxheath camp on nov. . _ib_. horace walpole, writing of april of this year when, in the alarm of a french invasion, the militia were called out, says:--'the king's behaviour was childish and absurd. he ordered the camp equipage, and said he would command the army himself.' walpole continues:--'it is reported, that in a few days will be published in two volumes, folio, an accurate account of _his majesty's journeys to chatham and portsmouth, together with a minute description of his numerous fatigues, dangers, and hair-breadth escapes; to which will be added the royal bon-mots_. and the following week will be published an _history of all the campaigns of the king of prussia_, in one volume duodecimo.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. , . [ ] boswell, eleven years later, wrote of him:--'my second son is an extraordinary boy; he is much of his father (vanity of vanities). he is of a delicate constitution, but not unhealthy, and his spirit never fails him. he is still in the house with me; indeed he is quite my companion, though only eleven in september.' _letters of boswell_, p. . mr. croker, who knew him, says that 'he was very convivial, and in other respects like his father--though altogether on a smaller scale.' he edited a new edition of malone's _shakespeare_. he died in . croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] _ib_. nov. . [ ] regius professor of divinity and canon of christ church. johnson wrote in :--'at home i see almost all my companions dead or dying. at oxford i have just left [lost] wheeler, the man with whom i most delighted to converse.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, aug. , . [ ] johnson, in , wrote about a visit to oxford:--'since i was there my convivial friend dr. edwards and my learned friend dr. wheeler are both dead, and my probabilities of pleasure are very much diminished.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] dr. edwards was preparing an edition of xenophon's _memorabilia_. croker. [ ] johnson wrote on the th:--'dr. burney had the luck to go to oxford the only week in the year when the library is shut up. he was, however, very kindly treated; as one man is translating arabick and another welsh for his service.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] johnson three years later, hearing that one of dr. burney's sons had got the command of a ship, wrote:--'i question if any ship upon the ocean goes out attended with more good wishes than that which carries the fate of burney. i love all of that breed whom i can be said to know, and one or two whom i hardly know i love upon credit, and love them because they love each other.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, nov. , . [ ] vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] miss carmichael. boswell. [ ] see appendix d. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] it was the collected edition containing the first seven _discourses_, which had each year been published separately. 'i was present,' said samuel rogers (_table-talk_, p. ), 'when sir joshua reynolds delivered his last lecture at the royal academy. on entering the room, i found that a semicircle of chairs immediately in front of the pulpit was reserved for persons of distinction, being labelled "mr. burke," "mr. boswell," &c.' [ ] in an unfinished sketch for a _discourse_, reynolds said of those already delivered:--'whatever merit they may have must be imputed, in a great measure, to the education which i may be said to have had under dr. johnson. i do not mean to say, though it certainly would be to the credit of these _discourses_ if i could say it with truth, that he contributed even a single sentiment to them; but he qualified my mind to think justly.' northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] the error in grammar is no doubt boswell's. he was so proud of his knowledge of languages that when he was appointed secretary for foreign correspondence to the royal academy (_ante_, ii. , note ), 'he wrote his acceptance of the honour in three separate letters, still preserved in the academy archives, in english, french, and italian.' _the athenæum_, no. . [ ] the remaining six volumes came out, not in , but in . see _post_, . he also wrote this year the preface to a translation of _oedipus tyrannus_, by thomas maurice, in _poems and miscellaneous pieces_. (see preface to _westminster abbey with other poems_, .) [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _life of watts_ [_works_, viii. ]. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'perhaps no composition in our language has been oftener perused than pomfret's _choice_.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] johnson, in his _life of yalden_ (_ib_. viii. ), calls the following stanza from his _hymn to darkness_ 'exquisitely beautiful':-- 'thou dost thy smiles impartially bestow, and know'st no difference here below: all things appear the same by thee, though light distinction makes, thou giv'st equality.' it is strange that churchill was left out of the collection. [ ] murphy says, though certainly with exaggeration, that 'after garrick's death johnson never talked of him without a tear in his eyes. he offered,' he adds, 'if mrs. garrick would desire it of him, to be the editor of his works and the historian of his life.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . cumberland (_memoirs_, ii. ) said of garrick's funeral:--'i saw old samuel johnson standing beside his grave, at the foot of shakespeare's monument, and bathed in tears.' sir william forbes was told that johnson, in going to the funeral, said to william jones:--'mr. garrick and his profession have been equally indebted to each other. his profession made him rich, and he made his profession respectable.' forbes's _beattie_, appendix cc. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] the anniversary of the death of charles i. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] he sent a set elegantly bound and gilt, which was received as a very handsome present. boswell. [ ] on march he wrote:--'i got my _lives_, not yet quite printed, put neatly together, and sent them to the king; what he says of them i know not. if the king is a whig, he will not like them; but is any king a whig?' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'he was always ready to assist any authors in correcting their works, and selling them to booksellers. "i have done writing," said he, "myself, and should assist those that do write."' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in _the rehearsal_. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson wrote on nov. , :--'baretti has told his musical scheme to b---- and b---- _will neither grant the question nor deny_. he is of opinion that if it does not fail, it will succeed, but if it does not succeed he conceives it must fail.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . baretti, in a marginal note on his copy, says that b---- is dr. burney. he adds:--'the musical scheme was the _carmen seculare_. that brought me £ in three nights, and three times as much to philidor. it would have benefited us both greatly more, if philidor had not proved a scoundrel.' 'the complaisant italian,' says the _gent mag_. (xlix. ), 'in compliment to our island chooses "to drive destructive war and pestilence" _ad mauros, seras et indos_, instead of _ad persas atque britannos_.' mr. tasker, the clergyman, went a step further. 'i,' he says in his version of the _carmen_, 'honour and fame prognosticate to free-born britain's naval state and to her patriot-king.' _ib_. [ ] we may compare with this the scene in _le misanthrope_ (act i. sc. ), where oronte reads his sonnet to alceste; who thrice answers: --'je ne dis pas cela, mais--.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ] this was a mr. tasker. mr. d'israeli informed me that this portrait is so accurately drawn, that being, some years after the publication of this work, at a watering-place on the coast of devon, he was visited by mr. tasker, whose name, however, he did not then know, but was so struck with his resemblance to boswell's picture, that he asked him whether he had not had an interview with dr. johnson, and it appeared that he was indeed the author of _the warlike genius of britain_. croker. [ ] the poet was preparing a second edition of his _ode_. 'this animated pindaric made its first appearance the latter end of last year ( ). it is well calculated to rouse the martial spirit of the nation, and is now reprinted with considerable additions.' _gent. mag_. july, , p. . in he published another volume of his poems with a poetical preface, in which he thus attacks his brother-in-law:-- 'to suits litigious, ignorant and raw, compell'd by an unletter'd brother-in-law.' _ib_. , p. . [ ] boswell must have misheard what johnson said. it was not anson, but amherst whom the bard praised. _ode_, p. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on foote's death:--'now, will any of his contemporaries bewail him? will genius change _his sex_ to weep?' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'genius of britain! to thy office true, on cox-heath reared the waving banners view. * * * * * in martial vest by venus and the graces drest, to yonder tent, who leads the way? art thou britannia's genius? say.' _ode_, p. . [ ] twenty-nine years earlier he wrote:--'there is nothing more dreadful to an author than neglect; compared with which reproach, hatred, and opposition are names of happiness.' _the rambler_, no. . in _the vicar of wakefield_, ch. xx, george says of his book:--'the learned world said nothing to my paradoxes, nothing at all, sir.... i suffered the cruellest mortification, neglect.' see _ante_, ii. , . hume said:--'the misfortune of a book, says boileau, is not the being ill spoke [sic] of, but the not being spoken of at all.' j.h. burton's _hume_, i. [ ] the account given in northcote's _reynolds_ (ii. - ) renders it likely that sir joshua is 'the friend of ours.' northcote, quoting mr. courtenay, writes:--'his table was frequented by men of the first talents. politics and party were never introduced. temporal and spiritual peers, physicians, lawyers, actors, and musicians composed the motley group.' at one of these dinners mr. dunning, afterwards lord ashburton, was the first who came. 'on entering, he said, "well, sir joshua, and who [sic] have you got to dine with you to-day? for the last time i dined with you the assembly was of such a sort, that, by g--, i believe all the rest of the world were at peace, for that afternoon at least."' see _post_, under june , , note. boswell, in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ), boasts that he too is 'a very universal man.' 'i can drink, i can laugh, i can converse in perfect humour with whigs, with republicans, with dissenters, with independents, with quakers, with moravians, with jews. but i would vote with tories and pray with a dean and chapter.' [ ] 'finding that the best things remained to be said on the wrong side, i resolved to write a book that should be wholly new. i therefore drest up three paradoxes with some ingenuity. they were false, indeed, but they were new.' _vicar of wakefield_, ch. xx. see _ante_, i. , where johnson says:--'when i was a boy, i used always to choose the wrong side of a debate, because most ingenious things, that is to say, most new things, could be said upon it.' in the _present state of polite learning_ (ch. vii.), goldsmith says:--'nothing can be a more certain sign that genius is in the wane than its being obliged to fly to paradox for support, and attempting to be erroneously agreeable.' [ ] the whole night spent in playing at cards (see next page) may account for part of his negligence. he was perhaps unusually dissipated this visit. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'three men,' writes horace walpole, 'were especially suspected, wilkes, edmund burke, and w. g. hamilton. hamilton was most generally suspected.' _memoirs of george iii_, iii. . according to dr. t. campbell (_diary_, p. ) johnson in 'said that he looked upon burke to be the author of _junius_, and that though he would not take him _contra mundum_, yet he would take him against any man.' [ ] sargeant bettersworth, enraged at swift's lines on him, 'demanded whether he was the author of that poem. "mr. bettesworth," answered he, "i was in my youth acquainted with great lawyers, who knowing my disposition to satire advised me that if any scoundrel or blockhead whom i had lampooned should ask, _are you the author of this paper_? i should tell him that i was not the author; and therefore i tell you, mr. bettesworth, that i am not the author of these lines."' johnson's works, viii. . see _post_, june , . [ ] mr. s. whyte (_miscellanea nova_, p. ) says that johnson mistook the nature of the compliment. sheridan had fled to france from his debtors. in an insolvent debtors' relief bill was brought into the house in his absence. mr. whyte, one of his creditors, petitioned the house to have sheridan's name included. a very unusual motion was made, 'that petitioner shall not be put to his oath; but the facts set forth in his petition be admitted simply on his word.' the motion was seconded by an instantaneous ay! ay! without a dissenting voice. sheridan wrote to mr. whyte:--'as the thing has passed with so much credit to me, the whole honour and merit of it is yours'. [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , he wrote of this kind of control:--'it may be urged in extenuation of this crime which parents, not in any other respect to be numbered with robbers and assassins, frequently commit, that, in their estimation, riches and happiness are equivalent terms.' he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'there wanders about the world a wild notion which extends over marriage more than over any transaction. if miss ---- followed a trade, would it be said that she was bound in conscience to give or refuse credit at her father's choice? ... the parent's moral right can arise only from his kindness, and his civil right only from his money.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] he refers to johnson's letter of july , , _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] 'by seeing london,' said johnson, 'i have seen as much of life as the world can show.' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . 'london,' wrote hume in , 'never pleased me much. letters are there held in no honour; scotmen are hated; superstition and ignorance gain ground daily.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'i found in cairo a mixture of all nations ... many brought thither by the desire of living after their own manner without observation, and of lying hid in the obscurity of multitudes; for in a city populous as cairo it is possible to obtain at the same time the gratifications of society and the secrecy of solitude.' _rasselas_, ch. xii. gibbon wrote of london (_misc. works_, ii. ):--'la liberté d'un simple particulier se fortifie par l'immensité de la ville.' [ ] perhaps mr. elphinston, of whom he said (_ante_, ii. ), 'his inner part is good, but his outer part is mighty awkward.' [ ] _worthy_ is generally applied to langton. his foibles were a common subject of their talk. _ante_, iii. . [ ] by the author of _the whole duty of man_. see _ante_, ii. , note . johnson often quotes it in his _dictionary_. [ ] 'the things done in his body.' _corinthians_, v. . [ ] 'yes i am proud: i must be proud to see men not afraid of god, afraid of me: safe from the bar, the pulpit, and the throne, yet touched and shamed by ridicule alone. o sacred weapon! left for truth's defence, sole dread of folly, vice, and insolence!' pope. _satires, epilogue_, ii. . [ ] page . boswell. [ ] at eleven o'clock that night johnson recorded:--'i am now to review the last year, and find little but dismal vacuity, neither business nor pleasure; much intended and little done. my health is much broken, my nights afford me little rest.... last week i published the _lives of the poets_, written, i hope, in such a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety. in this last year i have made little acquisition. i have scarcely read anything. i maintain mrs. ---- [desmoulins] and her daughter. other good of myself i know not where to find, except a little charity.' _ib_. p. . [ ] mauritius lowe, the painter. _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_ ii . [ ] 'cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did to the eels when she put 'em i' the paste alive; she knapped 'em o' the coxcombs with a stick, and cried, "down wantons, down!"' _king lear_, act ii. sc. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , where johnson, speaking of claret, said that 'there were people who died of dropsies, which they contracted in trying to get drunk.' [ ] 'if,' wrote johnson in one of his _debates_ (_works_ xi. ), 'the felicity of drunkenness can be more cheaply obtained by buying spirits than ale, it is easy to see which will be preferred.' see _post_, march , . [ ] dempster, to whom boswell complained that his nerves were affected, replied:--'one had better be palsied at eighteen than not keep company with such a man.' _ante_, i. . [ ] marquis of graham, afterwards third duke of montrose. in _the rolliad_ (ed. ) he is thus attacked:-- 'superior to abuse he nobly glories in the name of goose; such geese at rome from the perfidious gaul preserved the treas'ry-bench and capitol.' he was one of the lords of the treasury. see also _the rolliad_, p. [ ] johnson, however, when telling mrs. thrale that, in case of her husband's death, she ought to carry on his business, said:--'do not be frighted; trade could not be managed by those who manage it if it had much difficulty. their great books are soon understood, and their language, "if speech it may be called, that speech is none distinguishable in number, mood, or tense," is understood with no very laborious application.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] the earl of sandwich, first lord of the admiralty, with whom she lived seventeen years, and by whom she had nine children. _ann. reg_. xxii. . the duke of richmond attacked her in the house of lords as one 'who was supposed to sell favours in the admiralty for money.' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. , and _parl. hist_. xix. . it so happened that on the day on which hackman was hanged 'fox moved for the removal of lord sandwich [from office] but was beaten by a large majority.' walpole's _letters_, vii. . one of her children was basil montague, the editor of _bacon_. carlyle writes of him:--'on going to hinchinbrook, i found he was strikingly like the dissolute, questionable earl of sandwich; who, indeed, had been father of him in a highly tragic way.' carlyle's _reminiscences_, i. . hackman, who was a clergyman of the church, had once been in the army. cradock's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] on the following monday boswell was present at hackman's execution, riding to tyburn with him in a mourning coach. _london mag_. for , p. . [ ] at the club. croker. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. , for a previous slight altercation, and p. for a possible cause of unfriendly feeling between the two men. if such a feeling existed, it passed away, at all events on johnson's side, before beauclerk's death. see _post_, iv. . [ ] this gentleman who loved buttered muffins reappears in _pickwick_ (ch. ), as 'the man who killed himself on principle,' after eating three-shillings' worth of crumpets. mr. croker says that mr. fitzherbert is meant; but he hanged himself. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'it is not impossible that this restless desire of novelty, which gives so much trouble to the teacher, may be often the struggle of the understanding starting from that to which it is not by nature adapted, and travelling in search of something on which it may fix with greater satisfaction. for, without supposing each man particularly marked out by his genius for particular performances, it may be easily conceived that when a numerous class of boys is confined indiscriminately to the same forms of composition, the repetition of the same words, or the explication of the same sentiments, the employment must, either by nature or accident, be less suitable to some than others.... weariness looks out for relief, and leisure for employment, and surely it is rational to indulge the wanderings of both.' johnson's _works_, v. . see _post_, iv. . [ ] 'see boswell's _hebrides_, sept , and johnson's _works_, viii. . mallet had the impudence to write to hume that the book was ready for the press; 'which,' adds hume, 'is more than i or most people expected.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] the name is not given in the first two editions. see _ante_, i. . [ ] see p. of this vol., and vol. i. p. . boswell. the saying is from diogenes laertius, bk. v. ch. i, and is attributed to aristotle --[greek: _ho philoi oudeis philos_.] [ ] 'love, the most generous passion of the mind, the softest refuge innocence can find; the safe director of unguided youth, fraught with kind wishes, and secured by truth; that cordial drop heaven in our cup has thrown, to make the nauseous draught of life go down.' wilmot, earl of rochester, _a letter from artemisia_, chalmers's _poets_, viii. . pope (_imitations of horace_, _epist_. i. vi. ) refers to these lines:-- 'if, after all, we must with wilmot own, the cordial drop of life is love alone.' [ ] garrick wrote in :--'gout, stone, and sore throat! yet i am in spirits.' _garrick corres_, ii. . [ ] see ante, p. . [ ] in _the life of edmund smith_ (_works_, vii. ). see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote of foote's death:--'the world is really impoverished by his sinking glories.' piozzi _letters_, i. . see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] 'allowance must be made for some degree of exaggerated praise,' he said in speaking of epitaphs. 'in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] garrick retired in january , three years before his death. he visited ireland in , and again in . davies's _garrick_, i. , . [ ] in the original _impoverished_. [ ] certainly not horace walpole, as had been suggested to mr. croker. he and johnson can scarcely be said to have known each other (_post_, under june , , note). a sentence in one of walpole's _letters_ (iv. ) shews that he was very unlike the french wit. on sept. , , he wrote from paris:--'the french affect philosophy, literature, and free-thinking: the first never did, and never will possess me; of the two others i have long been tired. _free-thinking is for one's self, surely not for society_.' perhaps richard fitzpatrick is meant, who later on joined in writing _the rolliad_, and who was the cousin and 'sworn brother' of charles fox. walpole describes him as 'an agreeable young man of parts,' and mentions his 'genteel irony and badinage.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. and ii. . he was lord shelburne's brother-in-law, at whose house johnson might have met him, as well as in fox's company. there are one or two lines in _the rolliad_ which border on profanity. rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) said that 'fitzpatrick was at one time nearly as famous for his wit as hare.' tickell in his _epistle from the hon. charles fox to the hon. john townshend_, p. , writes:-- 'oft shall fitzpatrick's wit and stanhope's ease, and burgoyne's manly sense unite to please.' [ ] see ante, i. , note . [ ] according to mr. wright (croker's _boswell_, p. ), this physician was dr. james. i have examined, however, the nd, rd, th, and th editions of his _dissertation on fevers_, but can find no mention of this. in the th edition, published in , he complains (p. ) of 'the virulence and rancour with which the fever-powder and its inventor have been traduced and persecuted by the vendors of medicines and their abettors.' [ ] according to mr. croker this was andrew millar, but i doubt it. see ante, i. , note . [ ] 'the chevalier taylor, ophthalmiator pontifical, imperial, and royal,' as he styled himself. _gent. mag_. xxxi. . lord eldon said that--'taylor, dining with the barristers upon the oxford circuit, having related many wonderful things which he had done, was asked by bearcroft, "pray, chevalier, as you have told us of a great many things which you have done and can do, will you be so good as to try to tell us anything which you cannot do?" "nothing so easy," replied taylor, "i cannot pay my share of the dinner bill: and that, sir, i must beg of you to do."' twiss's _eldon_, i . [ ] pope mentions ward in the imitations of horace_, epistle, i. :-- 'he serv'd a 'prenticeship who sets up shop; ward try'd on puppies, and the poor, his drop.' fielding, in _tom jones_, bk. viii. ch. , says that 'interest is indeed a most excellent medicine, and, like ward's pill, flies at once to the particular part of the body on which you desire to operate.' in the introduction to the _voyage to lisbon_ he speaks very highly of ward's remedies and of ward himself, who 'endeavoured, he says, 'to serve me without any expectation or desire of fee or reward.' [ ] 'every thing,' said johnson, 'comes from beauclerk so easily. it appears to me that i labour, when i say a good thing.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . see _post_, under may , . dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) mentions another great-grandson of charles ii. (commissioner cardonnel) who was 'the most agreeable companion that ever was. he excelled in story-telling, like his great-grandfather, charles ii., but he seldom or ever repeated them.' [ ] no doubt burke. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] general paoli's house, where for some years boswell was 'a constant guest while he was in london.' _ante_, p. [ ] allan ramsay's residence: no. , harley-street. p. cunningham. [ ] it is strange that he does not mention their visit in a letter in which he tells temple that he is lame, and that his 'spirits sank to dreary dejection;' and utters what the editor justly calls an ambiguous prayer:--'let us hope for gleams of joy here, and a _blaze_ hereafter.' this letter, by the way, and the one that follows it, are both wrongly dated. _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] see p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] 'johnson's first question was, "what kind of a man was mr. pope in his conversation?" his lordship answered, that if the conversation did not take something of a lively or epigrammatic turn, he fell asleep, or perhaps pretended to do so.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . johnson in his _life of pope (works_, viii. ) says that 'when he wanted to sleep he "nodded in company."' [ ] boswell wrote to temple late on this day, 'let us not dispute any more about political notions. it is now night. dr. johnson has dined, drunk tea, and supped with only mr. charles dilly and me, and i am confirmed in my toryism.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] in the original _or_. boswell quotes the line correctly, _ante_, p. . [ ] 'i do not (says mr. malone) see any difficulty in this passage, and wonder that dr. johnson should have acknowledged it to be _inaccurate_. the hermit, it should be observed, had no actual experience of the world whatsoever: all his knowledge concerning it had been obtained in two ways; from _books_, and from the _relations_ of those country swains, who had seen a little of it. the plain meaning, therefore, is, "to clear his doubts concerning providence, and to obtain some knowledge of the world by actual experience; to see whether the accounts furnished by books, or by the oral communications of swains, were just representations of it; [i say, _swains_,] for his oral or _vivá voce_ information had been obtained from that part of mankind _alone_, &c." the word _alone_ here does not relate to the whole of the preceding line, as has been supposed, but, by a common licence, to the words,--_of all mankind_, which are understood, and of which it is restrictive.' mr. malone, it must be owned, has shewn much critical ingenuity in the explanation of this passage. his interpretation, however, seems to me much too recondite. the _meaning_ of the passage may be certain enough; but surely the _expression_ is confused, and one part of it contradictory to the other. boswell. this note is first given in the third edition. [ ] see ante, p. . [ ] state is used for statement. 'he sate down to examine mr. owen's states.' rob roy, ed. , viii. . [ ] johnson started for lichfield and ashbourne about may , and returned to london towards the end of june. _piozzi letters_, ii. , . 'it is good,' he wrote, 'to wander a little, lest one should dream that all the world was streatham, of which one may venture to say, _none but itself can be its parallel_.' _ib_. p. . 'none but thyself can be thy parallel' is from theobald's _double falsehood_. pope calls it 'a marvellous line,' and thus introduces it in _the dunciad_, first edition, iii. :--'for works like these let deathless journals tell, "none but thyself can be thy parallel."' [ ] see _post_, boswell's letter of aug. , , and johnson's letter of dec. , . [ ] boswell, on his way to scotland, wrote to temple from this house:--'i am now at southill, to which place mr. charles dilly has accompanied; it is the house of squire john dilly, his elder brother. the family of dilly have been land-proprietors in this county for two hundred years.... i am quite the great man here, and am to go forward on the north road to-morrow morning. poor mr. edward dilly is fast a-dying; he cried with affection at seeing me here; he is in as agreeable a frame as any christian can be.... i am edified here.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] on june in the following year he recorded:--'in the morning of this day last year i perceived the remission of those convulsions in my breast, which had distressed me for more than twenty years. i returned thanks at church for the mercy granted me, which has now continued a year.' _pr. and med_. p. . three days later he wrote:--'it was a twelvemonth last sunday since the convulsions in my breast left me. i hope i was thankful when i recollected it; by removing that disorder a great improvement was made in the enjoyment of life. i am now as well as men at my age can expect to be, and i yet think i shall be better.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] from a stroke of apoplexy. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'you really do not use me well in thinking that i am in less pain on this occasion than i ought to be. there is nobody left for me to care about but you and my master, and i have now for many years known the value of his friendship, and the importance of his life, too well not to have him very near my heart.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . to him he wrote shortly after the attack, no doubt with a view to give the sick man confidence:--'to shew you how well i think of your health, i have sent you an hundred pounds to keep for me.' _ib_. p. . miss burney wrote very soon after the attack:--'at dinner everybody tried to be cheerful, but a dark and gloomy cloud hangs over the head of poor mr. thrale which no flashes of merriment or beams of wit can pierce through; yet he seems pleased that everybody should be gay.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . the attack was in june. _piozzi letters_, ii. . on aug. , johnson wrote to dr. taylor:--'mr. thrale has perfectly recovered all his faculties and all his vigour.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] which i communicated to him from his lordship, but it has not yet been published. i have a copy of it. boswell. the few notices concerning dryden, which lord hailes had collected, the authour afterwards gave to mr. malone. malone. malone published a _life of dryden_. [ ] he recorded of his birth-day this year:--'on the th mr. chamier (_ante_, i. ) took me away with him from streatham. i left the servants a guinea for my health, and was content enough to escape into a house where my birth-day not being known could not be mentioned. i sat up till midnight was past, and the day of a new year, a very awful day, began.' _pr. and med_. pp. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] in one of his manuscript diaries, there is the following entry, which marks his curious minute attention: 'july , . i shaved my nail by accident in whetting the knife, about an eighth of an inch from the bottom, and about a fourth from the top. this i measure that i may know the growth of nails; the whole is about five eighths of an inch.' another of the same kind appears, 'aug. , , _partem brachii dextri carpo proximam et cutem pectoris circa mamillam dextram rasi, ut notum fieret quanta temporis pili renovarentur_.' and, 'aug. , . i cut from the vine leaves, which weighed five oz. and a half, and eight scruples:--i lay them upon my book-case, to see what weight they will lose by drying.' boswell. in _the idler_, no. , we have in mr. sober a portrait of johnson drawn by himself. he writes:--'the art is to fill the day with petty business, to have always something in hand which may raise curiosity, but not solicitude, and keep the mind in a state of action, but not of labour. this art has for many years been practised by my old friend sober with wonderful success.... his chief pleasure is conversation; there is no end of his talk or his attention; to speak or to hear is equally pleasing; for he still fancies that he is teaching or learning something, and is free for the time from his own reproaches. but there is one time at night when he must go home that his friends may sleep; and another time in the morning when all the world agrees to shut out interruption. these are the moments of which poor sober trembles at the thought. but the misery of these tiresome intervals he has many means of alleviating.... his daily amusement is chymistry. he has a small furnace which he employs in distillation, and which has long been the solace of his life. he draws oils and waters, and essences and spirits, which he knows to be of no use; sits and counts the drops as they come from his retort, and forgets that whilst a drop is falling a moment flies away.' mrs. piozzi says (_anec_. p. ):--'we made up a sort of laboratory at streatham one summer, and diverted ourselves with drawing essences and colouring liquors. but the danger mr. thrale found his friend in one day, when he got the children and servants round him to see some experiments performed, put an end to all our entertainment.' [ ] afterwards mr. stuart wortley. he was the father of the first lord wharncliffe. croker. [ ] horace walpole, in april , wrote:--'it was very remarkable that on the militia being ordered out, two of lord bute's younger sons offered, as bedfordshire gentlemen, to take any rank in the militia in that county. i warned lord ossory, the lord lieutenant, against so dangerous a precedent as admitting scots in the militia. a militia can only be safe by being officered by men of property in each county.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] walpole wrote in dec. :--'his majesty complained of the difficulty of recruiting. general keppel replied aloud, "it is owing to the scots, who raise their clans in and about london." this was very true; the master of lovat had received a royal gift of £ to raise a regiment of his clan, and had literally picked up boys of fifteen in london and westminster.' _ib_. p. . [ ] he made his will in his wife's life-time, and appointed her and sir william forbes, or the survivor of them, 'tutors and curators' to his children. _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] head gardener at stowe, and afterwards at hampton court and windsor. he got his nickname from his habit of saying that grounds which he was asked to lay out had _capabilities_. lord chatham wrote of him:--'he writes lancelot brown esquire, _en titre d'office_: please to consider, he shares the private hours of--[the king], dines familiarly with his neighbour of sion [the duke of northumberland], and sits down at the tables of all the house of lords, &c.' _chatham corres_. iv. , . [ ] see _ante_, pp. , . clive, before the committee of the house of commons, exclaimed:--'by god, mr. chairman, at this moment i stand astonished at my own moderation.' macaulay's _essays_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] yet, according to johnson, 'the poor in england were better provided for than in any other country of the same extent.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] the rev. dr. law, bishop of carlisle, in the preface to his valuable edition of archbishop king's _essay on the origin of evil_ [ed. , p. xvii], mentions that the principles maintained in it had been adopted by pope in his _essay on man_; and adds, 'the fact, notwithstanding such denial (bishop warburton's), might have been strictly verified by an unexceptionable testimony, _viz_ that of the late lord bathurst, who saw the very same system of the [greek: to beltion] (taken from the archbishop) in lord bolingbroke's own hand, lying before mr. pope, while he was composing his _essay_.' this is respectable evidence; but that of dr. blair is more direct from the fountain-head, as well as more full. let me add to it that of dr. joseph warton; 'the late lord bathurst repeatedly assured me that he had read the whole scheme of _the essay on man_, in the hand-writing of bolingbroke, and drawn up in a series of propositions, which pope was to versify and illustrate.' _essay on the genius and writings of pope_, vol. ii. p. . boswell. in the above short quotation from law are two parentheses. according to paley, the bishop was once impatient at the slowness of his carlisle printer. '"why does not my book make its appearance?" said he to the printer. "my lord, i am extremely sorry; but we have been obliged to send to glasgow for a pound of parentheses."' best's _memorials_, p. . [ ] johnson, defining _ascertain_ in its first meaning as _establish_, quotes from hooker: 'the divine law _ascertaineth_ the truth of other laws.' [ ] 'to those who censured his politicks were added enemies yet more dangerous, who called in question his knowledge of greek, and his qualifications for a translator of homer. to these he made no publick opposition; but in one of his letters escapes from them as well as he can. at an age like his, for he was not more than twenty-five, with an irregular education, and a course of life of which much seems to have passed in conversation, it is not very likely that he overflowed with greek. but when he felt himself deficient he sought assistance; and what man of learning would refuse to help him?' johnson's _works_, viii. . johnson refers, i think, to pope's letter to addison of jan. , - . [ ] 'that those communications had been consolidated into a scheme regularly drawn and delivered to pope, from whom it returned only transformed from prose to verse, has been reported but can hardly be true. the essay plainly appears the fabrick of a poet; what bolingbroke supplied could be only the first principles; the order, illustration and embellishments must all be pope's.' _works_, viii. . dr. warton (_essay on pope_, ii. ) says that he had repeatedly heard from lord bathurst the statement recorded by dr. blair. [ ] 'in defiance of censure and contempt truth is frequently violated; and scarcely the most vigilant and unremitted circumspection will secure him that mixes with mankind from being hourly deceived by men, of whom it can scarcely be imagined that they mean any injury to him or profit to themselves.' _works_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, pp. , . [ ] gibbon wrote of lord hailes:--'in his _annals of scotland_ he has shewn himself a diligent collector and an accurate critic.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'versate diu quid ferre recusent, quid valeant humeri.' 'weigh with care what suits your genius, what your strength can bear.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. . . [ ] boswell seems to be afraid of having his head made to ache again, by the sense that johnson should put into it. see _ante_, p. . [ ] _the spleen_, a poem. boswell. the author was matthew green. dodsley's _collection_, i. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] of dryden he wrote (_works_, vii. ):--'he began even now to exercise the domination of conscious genius by recommending his own performance.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson's _works_, vii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] . exeter-street, off catherine-street, strand. [march , _ante_, i. .] . greenwich. [july , _ante_, i. .] . woodstock-street, near hanover-square. [end of , _ante_, i. iii.] . castle-street, cavendish-square, no. . [spring and october ; _ante_, i. , and , note . castle-street is now called castle-street east.] . strand. . boswell-court. . strand, again. [in croker's _boswell_, p. , is a letter dated, 'at the black boy, over against durham yard, strand, march , .'] . bow-street. . holborn. . fetter-lane. [johnson mentions in _pr. and med_. p. , 'a good night's rest i once had in fetter-lane.'] . holborn, again. . gough-square. [in croker's _boswell_, p. , is a letter dated 'goff-square, july , .' he moved to staple inn on march , . _rasselas_ was written when he was living in gough-square, and not in staple inn, as has been asserted. _ante_, i. .] . staple inn. . gray's inn. [in croker's _boswell_, p. , is a letter dated 'gray's inn, dec. , .'] . inner temple-lane, no. . [he was here in june , _ante_, i. , note ; and on jan. , , as is shewn by a letter in croker's _boswell_, p. . johnson buildings now stand where his house stood.] . johnson's-court, no. . [see i. for a letter dated 'johnson's-court, oct. , .'] . bolt-court, no. . [he was here on march , (_ante_, ii. ). from about (_ante_, i. ) to oct. , (_post_), he had moreover 'an apartment' at streatham, and from about to about the end of , one at southwark (_ante_, i. ). from about the beginning of to the spring of he had a room either in grosvenor-square or argyll-street (_post_, march , and march , .)] [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] if, as seems to be meant, the 'gentleman supposed the case' on this occasion, he must have been boswell, for no one else was present with johnson. [ ] a crime that he would have restrained by 'severe laws steadily enforced.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] lord newhaven was one of a creation of eighteen irish peers in . 'it was a mob of nobility,' wrote horace walpole. 'the king in private laughed much at the eagerness for such insignificant honours.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] now the lady of sir henry dashwood, bart. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _the false alarm_. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see collins's _peerage_, i. , and hume's _england_, ed. , iv. , for an account, how henry viii. once threatened to cut off the head of edward montagu, one of the members (not the speaker as mr. croker says), if he did not get a money bill passed by the next day. the bill, according to the story, was passed. mr. p. cunningham informed mr. croker that johnson was here guilty of an anachronism, for that heads were first placed on temple bar in william iii's time. [ ] horace walpole thus describes public affairs in february of this year:--'the navy disgusted, insurrections in scotland, wales mutinous, a rebellion ready to break out in ireland where , protestants were in arms, without authority, for their own defence, many of them well-wishers to the americans, and all so ruined that they insisted on relief from parliament, or were ready to throw off subjection; holland pressed by france to refuse us assistance, and demanding whether we would or not protect them: uncertainty of the fate of the west indian islands; and dread at least that spain might take part with france; lord north at the same time perplexed to raise money on the loan but at eight per cent., which was demanded--such a position and such a prospect might have shaken the stoutest king and the ablest administration. yet the king was insensible to his danger. he had attained what pleased him most --his own will at home. his ministers were nothing but his tools-- everybody called them so, and they proclaimed it themselves.' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . in this melancholy enumeration he passes over the american war. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] wesley himself recorded in (_journal_, i. ):--'i have been all my life (till very lately) so tenacious of every point relating to decency and order, that i should have thought the saving of souls almost a sin if it had not been done in a church.' [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) talks of some one 'riding on three elephants at once like astley.' on p. he says:--'i can almost believe that i could dance a minuet on a horse galloping full speed, like young astley.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] a friend of wilkes, as boswell was, might well be supposed to have got over such scruples. [ ] mr. croker says that the '"celebrated friend" was no doubt burke.' burke, however, is generally described by boswell as 'eminent.' moreover burke was not in the habit of getting drunk, as seems to have been the case with 'the celebrated friend.' boswell (_ante_, p. , note ) calls hamilton 'celebrated,' but then boswell and hamilton were not friends, as is shewn, _post_, nov. . [ ] _corinthians_. xv, . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'prince gonzaga di castiglione, when dining in company with dr. johnson, thinking it was a polite as well as gay thing to drink the doctor's health with some proof that he had read his works, called out from the top of the table to the bottom.--_at your health, mr. vagabond_.' piozzi's _synonymy_, ii. . mme. d'arblay (_memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. ) says,--'general paoli diverted us all very much by begging leave of mrs. thrale to give one toast, and then, with smiling pomposity, pronouncing "the great vagabond."' [ ] 'very near to admiration is the wish to admire. every man willingly gives value to the praise which he receives, and considers the sentence passed in his favour as the sentence of discernment.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, _ib_. p. [ ] see _ante_, _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, _ib_. p. . [ ] see ante_, p. . [ ] bishop porteus. see _ante_, p. . [ ] miss letitia barnston. boswell. [ ] 'at chester i passed a fortnight in mortal felicity. i had from my earliest years a love for the military life, and there is in it an animation and relish of existence which i have never found amongst any other set of men, except players, with whom you know i once lived a great deal. at the mess of colonel stuart's regiment i was quite _the great man_, as we used to say; and i was at the same time all joyous and gay ... i never found myself so well received anywhere. the young ladies there were delightful, and many of them with capital fortunes. had i been a bachelor, i should have certainly paid my addresses to a chester lady.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] mrs. thrale wrote to johnson from brighton in :--'i have lost what made my happiness in all seasons of the year; but the black dog shall not make prey of both my master and myself. my master swims now, and forgets the black dog.' johnson replied:--'i shall easily forgive my master his long stay, if he leaves the dog behind him. we will watch, as well as we can, that the dog shall never be let in again, for when he comes the first thing he does is to worry my master.' _piozzi letters_, ii. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] i have a valuable collection made by my father, which, with some additions and illustrations of my own, i intend to publish. i have some hereditary claim to be an antiquary; not only from my father, but as being descended, by the mother's side, from the able and learned sir john skene, whose merit bids defiance to all the attempts which have been made to lessen his fame. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note , for an imperfect list of boswell's projected publications, and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , for a fuller one. [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] in the first two editions, _we_. [ ] in chaps, xxiv. and xxv. of his _siècle de louis xv_. see _ante_, i. , note , for voltaire's 'catching greedily at wonders.' [ ] burton in the last lines of _the anatomy of melancholy_, says:-- 'only take this for a corollary and conclusion; as thou tenderest thine own welfare in this and all other melancholy, thy good health of body and mind, observe this short precept, give not way to solitariness and idleness. "be not solitary, be not idle."' [ ] johnson was in better spirits than usual. the following day he wrote:--'i fancy that i grow light and airy. a man that does not begin to grow light and airy at seventy is certainly losing time if he intends ever to be light and airy.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] crescit amor nummi quantum ipsa pecunia crescit. _juvenal_, xiv. . [ ] he had seen it on his tour in wales on july , . see _post_, vol. v. [ ] dean percy, _ante_, p. . [ ] another son was the first lord ellenborough. [ ] his regiment was afterwards ordered to jamaica, where he accompanied it, and almost lost his life by the climate. this impartial order i should think a sufficient refutation of the idle rumour that 'there was still something behind the throne greater than the throne itself.' boswell. lord shelburne, about the year , likening the growth of the power of the crown to a strong building that had been raised up, said:--'the earl of bute had contrived such a lock to it as a succession of the ablest men have not been able to pick, _nor has he ever let the key be so much as seen by which he has held it_.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] boswell, on jan. , wrote to temple:--'how inconsiderable are both you and i, in comparison with what we used to hope we should be! yet your learning and your memoirs set you far above the common run of educated men. and _son pittore anche io_. i too, in several respects, have attained to superiority. but we both want solidity and force of mind, such as we observe in those who rise in active life.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] 'for in the mind alone our follies lie, the mind that never from itself can fly.' francis. horace, _epistles_, i. . . [ ] requesting me to inquire concerning the family of a gentleman who was then paying his addresses to miss doxy. boswell. [ ] it is little more than half that distance. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on nov. :--'my master, i hope, hunts and walks, and courts the belles, and shakes brighthelmston. when he comes back, frolick and active, we will make a feast, and drink his health, and have a noble day.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see page . boswell. on nov. he wrote:--'at home we do not much quarrel; but perhaps the less we quarrel, the more we hate. there is as much malignity amongst us as can well subsist without any thought of daggers or poisons.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, p. , and feb. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, june . . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale on april --'you are at all places of high resort, and bring home hearts by dozens; while i am seeking for something to say about men of whom i know nothing but their verses, and sometimes very little of them. now i have begun, however, i do not despair of making an end.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] a writer in _notes and queries_ ( rd s., viii. ) points out that johnson, writing to a doctor, uses a doctor's language. 'until very lately _solution of continuity_ was a favourite phrase with english surgeons; where a bone was broken, or the flesh, &c. cut or _lacerated_, there was a _solution of continuity_.' see _ante_, ii. , for _laceration_. [ ] he died march , , aged . _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] 'animula, vagula, blandula, hospes comesque corporis, quæ nunc abibis in loca, pallidula, rigida, nudula? nec, ut soles, dabis joca.' _adriani morientis ad animam suam_. 'poor little, pretty, fluttering thing, must we no longer live together? and dost thou prune thy trembling wing, to take thy flight thou know'st not whither? thy humorous vein, thy pleasing folly lies all neglected, all forgot; and pensive, wavering, melancholy, thou dread'st and hop'st thou know'st not what.' _prior_. in _the spectator_, no. , is a letter from pope to steele on these 'famous verses which the emperor adrian spoke on his death-bed.' see in pope's _correspondence_ (elwin's _pope_, vi. ), this letter to steele of nov. , , for his version of these lines. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] mr. beauclerk's library was sold by publick auction in april and may , for £ . malone. see _post_, may , . [ ] by a fire in northumberland-house, where he had an apartment, in which i have passed many an agreeable hour. boswell. [ ] see _post_, iv. . [ ] in , on his birthday, johnson recorded, 'this day it came into my mind to write the history of my melancholy.' _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] johnson had dated his letter, 'london, april , ,' and added, 'now there is a date; look at it.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . in his reply he wrote:--'london, may , . mark that--you did not put the year to your last.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _an address to the electors of southwark. ib_. p. . see _post_, p. . [ ] the author of the _fitzosborne letters (post_, may , , note). miss burney thus describes this evening:--'we were appointed to meet the bishop of chester at mrs. montagu's. this proved a very gloomy kind of grandeur; the bishop waited for mrs. thrale to speak, mrs. thrale for the bishop; so neither of them spoke at all. mrs. montagu cared not a fig, as long as she spoke herself, and so she harangued away. meanwhile mr. melmoth, the pliny melmoth, as he is called, was of the party, and seemed to think nobody half so great as himself. he seems intolerably self-sufficient--appears to look upon himself as the first man in bath, and has a proud conceit in look and manner, mighty forbidding.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] dr. john hinchliffe. boswell. [ ] a kind of nick-name given to mrs. thrale's eldest daughter, whose name being _esther_, she might be assimilated to a _queen_. boswell. [ ] mr. thrale. boswell. [ ] in johnson's _dictionary_ is neither _dawling_ nor _dawdling_. he uses _dawdle, post_, june , . [ ] miss burney shews how luxurious a table mr. thrale kept. 'we had,' she records, in may , 'a very grand dinner to-day, _though nothing to a streatham dinner_, at the ship tavern [brighton], where the officers mess, to which we were invited by the major and the captain.' as the major was a man of at least £ , a-year, and the captain of £ , or £ , , the dinner was likely to be grand enough. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . yet when mr. thrale had his first stroke in , johnson wrote:--'i am the more alarmed by this violent seizure, as i can impute it to no wrong practices, or intemperance of any kind.... what can he reform? or what can he add to his regularity and temperance? he can only sleep less.' _piozzi letters_, ii. , . baretti, in a ms. note on p. , says:--'dr. johnson knew that thrale would eat like four, let physicians preach.... may be he did not know it, so little did he mind what people were doing. though he sat by thrale at dinner, he never noticed whether he eat much or little. a strange man!' yet in a note on p. , baretti had said that thrale's seizure was caused by 'the mere grief he could not overcome of his only son's loss. johnson knew it, but would not tell it.' see _post_, iv. , note . [ ] miss burney. [ ] i have taken the liberty to leave out a few lines. boswell. lines about diet and physic. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] the author of _fables for the female sex_, and of the tragedy of _the gamester_, and editor of _the world_. goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_ (ch. x.), after describing the sufferings of authors, continues:--'let us not then aggravate those natural inconveniences by neglect; we have had sufficient instances of this kind already. sale and moore will suffice for one age at least. but they are dead and their sorrows are over.' mr. foster (_life of goldsmith_, ed. , ii, ) strangely confounds edward moore the fabulist, with dr. john more the author of _zeluco_. [ ] line of a song in _the spectator_, no. . croker. [ ] hannah more, in (_memoirs_, i. ), describes 'mrs. vesey's pleasant parties. it is a select society which meets at her house every other tuesday, on the day on which the turk's head club dine together. in the evening they all meet at mrs. vesey's, with the addition of such other company as it is difficult to find elsewhere.' [ ] second earl spencer; the first lord of the admiralty under pitt, and father of lord althorp who was leader of the house of commons under earl grey. [ ] see _ante_ p. . [ ] her childhood was celebrated by prior in the lines beginning:-- 'my noble, lovely little peggy.' croker. [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) wrote on feb. , :--'i saw dr. johnson last night at lady lucan's, who had assembled a _blue stocking_ meeting in imitation of mrs. vesey's babels. it was so blue, it was quite mazarine-blue. mrs. montagu kept aloof from johnson, like the west from the east.' in his letter of jan. (_ib_. p. ), the allusion to mrs. vesey's babels is explained: 'mrs. montagu is one of my principal entertainments at mrs. vesey's, who collects all the graduates and candidates for fame, where they vie with one another, till they are as unintelligible as the good folks at babel.' 'lady spencer,' said samuel rogers, 'recollected johnson well, as she used to see him often in her girlhood. her mother, lady lucan, would say, "nobody dines with us to-day; therefore, child, we'll go and get dr. johnson." so they would drive to bolt court and bring the doctor home with them.' _rogers's table talk_, p. . 'i told lady lucan,' wrote johnson on april , , 'how long it was since she sent to me; but she said i must consider how the world rolls about her. she seemed pleased that we met again.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'i have seen,' wrote wraxall, 'the duchess of devonshire, then in the first bloom of youth, hanging on the sentences that fell from johnson's lips, and contending for the nearest place to his chair. all the cynic moroseness of the philosopher and the moralist seemed to dissolve under so flattering an approach.' wraxall's _memoirs_, ed. , i. . [ ] in nichols's _lit. anec_. viii. , , dr. barnard is thus described:--'in powers of conversation i never yet knew his equal. he saw infinite variety of characters, and like shakespeare adopted them all by turns for comic effect. he carried me to london in a hired chaise; we rose from our seat, and put our heads out of the windows, while the postboy removed something under us. he supposed himself in the pillory, and addressed the populace against the government with all the cant of _no. and co_. he once told me a little anecdote of the original parson adams, whom he knew. "oh, sir!" said he to barnard, almost in a whisper, and with a look of horror, "would you believe it, sir, he was wicked from a boy;" then going up close to him, "you will be shocked--you will not believe it,--he wrote god with a little g, when he was ten years old!"' [ ] in mr. croker's editions, 'had taken a chair' is changed into 'had taken the chair,' and additional emphasis is given by printing these four words in italics. [ ] the hostess must have suffered, for, according to miss burney, 'lord harcourt said, "mrs. vesey's fear of ceremony is really troublesome; for her eagerness to break a circle is such that she insists upon everybody's sitting with their backs one to another; that is, the chairs are drawn into little parties of three together, in a confused manner all over the room."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . miss burney thus describes her:--'she has the most wrinkled, sallow, time-beaten face i ever saw. she is an exceeding well-bred woman, and of agreeable manners; but all her name in the world must, i think, have been acquired by her dexterity and skill in selecting parties, and by her address in rendering them easy with one another.' _ib_. p. . she heard her say of a gentleman who had lately died:--'it's a very disagreeable thing, i think, when one has just made acquaintance with anybody and likes them, to have them die.' _ib_. ii. . [ ] johnson passed over this scene very lightly. 'on sunday evening i was at mrs. vesey's, and there was inquiry about my master, but i told them all good. there was dr. barnard of eton, and we made a noise all the evening; and there was pepys, and wraxall till i drove him away.' _piozzi letters,_ ii. . wraxall was perhaps thinking of this evening when he wrote (_memoirs_, ed. , i. ):--'those whom he could not always vanquish by the force of his intellect, by the depth and range of his arguments, and by the compass of his gigantic faculties, he silenced by rudeness; and i have myself more than once stood in the predicament which i here describe. yet no sooner was he withdrawn, and with him had disappeared these personal imperfections, than the sublime attainments of his mind left their full effect on the audience: such the whole assembly might be in some measure esteemed while he was present.' [ ] among the provisions thus relaxed was one that subjected popish priests, or papists keeping school, to perpetual imprisonment. those only enjoyed the benefit of the act who took a very strict test, in which, among other things, they denied the pope's temporal and civil jurisdiction within this realm. this bill passed both houses without a single negative. it applied only to england. scotland was alarmed by the report that the scotch catholics were in like manner to be relieved. in edinburgh and glasgow the papists suffered from outrageous acts of violence and cruelty, and government did not think it advisable to repress this persecution by force. the success of these scotch bigots seems to have given the first rise to the protestant association in england. _ann. reg_. xxiii. - . how slight 'the relaxation' was in england is shewn by lord mansfield's charge on lord george gordon's trial, where we learn that the catholics were still subject to all the penalties created in the reigns of elizabeth, james i, charles ii, and of the first ten years of william iii. _ib_. xxiv. . hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ), four years after the riots, wrote:--'i have had a great many prints, pamphlets, &c., sent me from rouen; but, unluckily for me, the sender happened to have put a popish prayer-book among my things, which were therefore, by being caught in bad company, all found guilty of popery at brighthelmstone, and condemned to be burnt to my great regret.' they were burnt in accordance with sect. of jac. i. c. . this act was only repealed in to ( and . rep. c. . s. i). [ ] vol. ii. p. , _et seq_. i have selected passages from several letters, without mentioning dates. boswell. [ ] june . boswell. johnson wrote on june . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] on this day (june ) johnson, writing to mrs. thrale at bath, did not mention the riots. he gives the date very fully--'london, no. , bolt-court, fleet-street, june , ,' and adds:--'mind this, and tell queency [miss thrale].' _piozzi letters_, ii. . miss burney, who was with the thrales, writes:--'dr. johnson has written to mrs. thrale, without even mentioning the existence of this mob; perhaps, at this very moment, he thinks it "a humbug upon the nation," as george bodens called the parliament.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . when johnson wrote, the mob had not risen to its height of violence. mrs. thrale in her answer, giving the date, 'bath, o'clock on saturday morning, june , ,' asks, 'oh! my dear sir, was i ever particular in dating a letter before? and is this a time to begin to be particular when i have been up all night in trembling agitation? miss burney is frighted, but she says better times will come; she made me date my letter so, and persists in hoping that ten years hence we shall all three read it over together and be merry. but, perhaps, you will ask, "who is _consternated_,"? as you did about the french invasion.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'lord mansfield's house,' wrote dr. franklin from paris (_memoirs_, iii. ), 'is burnt with all his furniture, pictures, books, and papers. thus he who approved the burning american houses has had fire brought home to him.' [ ] baretti in a marginal note on _mass-house_, says, 'so illiberal was johnson made by religion that he calls here the chapel a mass-house.... yet he hated the presbyterians. that was a nasty blot in his character.' [ ] horace walpole this night (june ) wrote:--'yet i assure your ladyship there is no panic. lady aylesbury has been at the play in the haymarket, and the duke and my four nieces at ranelagh this evening.' _letters_, vii. . the following monday he wrote:--'mercy on us! we seem to be plunging into the horrors of france, in the reigns of charles vi. and vii.!--yet, as extremes meet, there is at this moment amazing insensibility. within these four days i have received five applications for tickets to see my house!' _ib_. p. . [ ] written on june . [ ] in the original, 'was this day _with a party of soldiers_.' [ ] in the original, 'we are all _again_.' [ ] written on june . [ ] george iii told lord eldon that at a levee 'he asked wilkes after his friend serjeant glynne. "_my_ friend, sir!" says wilkes to the king; "he is no friend of mine." "why," said the king, "he _was_ your friend and your counsel in all your trials." "sir," rejoined wilkes, "he _was_ my _counsel_--one _must_ have a counsel; but he was no _friend_; he loves sedition and licentiousness which i never delighted in. in fact, sir, he was a wilkite, which i never was." the king said the confidence and humour of the man made him forget at the moment his impudence.' twiss's _eldon_, ii. . [ ] lord george gordon and his followers, during these outrages, wore blue ribbands in their hats. malone. [ ] johnson added:--'all danger here is apparently over; but a little agitation still continues. we frighten one another with a seventy-thousand scots to come hither with the dukes of gordon and argyle, and eat us, and hang us, or drown us.' two days later horace walpole, after mentioning that lord george gordon was in the tower, continued:--'what a nation is scotland; in every reign engendering traitors to the state, and false and pernicious to the kings that favour it the most. national prejudices, i know, are very vulgar; but if there are national characteristics, can one but dislike the soils and climates that concur to produce them?' _letters_, vii. . [ ] he died nov. , , and left 'about, £ , accumulated not parsimoniously, but during a very long possession of a profitable office.' his father, who was keeper before him, began as a turnkey. _gent. mag_. , p. . wesley wrote on jan. , :--'of all the seats of woe on this side hell, few, i suppose, exceed or even equal newgate. if any region of horror could exceed it a few years ago, newgate in bristol did; so great was the filth, the stench, the misery, and wickedness which shocked all who had a spark of humanity left.' he described a great change for the better which had lately been made in the london newgate. perhaps it was due to akerman. wesley's _journal_, iii. . [ ] there were two city prisons so called. [ ] in the first two editions _will_. boswell, in the third edition, corrected most of his scotticisms. [ ] in the _life of savage_ (_works_, viii. ) johnson wrote of the keeper of the bristol gaol:--'virtue is undoubtedly most laudable in that state which makes it most difficult; and therefore the humanity of a gaoler certainly deserves this publick attestation; and the man whose heart has not been hardened by such an employment may be justly proposed as a pattern of benevolence. if an inscription was once engraved "to the honest toll-gatherer," less honours ought not to be paid "to the tender gaoler."' this keeper, dagge by name, was one of whitefield's disciples. in whitefield wrote:--'god having given me great favour in the gaoler's eyes, i preached a sermon on the penitent thief, to the poor prisoners in newgate.' he began to read prayers and preach to them every day, till the mayor and sheriffs forbade mr. dagge to allow him to preach again. tyerman's _whitefield_, i. . [ ] vol. ii. p. . mrs. piozzi has omitted the name, she best knows why. boswell. [ ] now settled in london. boswell. [ ] i had been five years absent from london. beattie. [ ] '--sic fata ferebant.' _�neid, ii. _. [ ] meaning his entertaining _memoirs of david garrick, esq_., of which johnson (as davies informed me) wrote the first sentence; thus giving, as it were, the key-note performance. it is, indeed, very characteristical of its authour, beginning with a maxim, and proceeding to illustrate.--'all excellence has a right to be recorded. i shall, therefore, think it superfluous to apologise for writing the life of a man, who by an uncommon assemblage of private virtues, adorned the highest eminence in a publick profession.' boswell. [ ] davies had become bankrupt. see _ante_, p. . young, in his first _epistle to pope_, says:-- 'for bankrupts write when ruined shops are shut as maggots crawl from out a perished nut.' davies's _memoirs of garrick_, published this spring, reached its third edition by the following year. [ ] i wish he had omitted the suspicion expressed here, though i believe he meant nothing but jocularity; for though he and i differed sometimes in opinion, he well knew how much i loved and revered him. beattie. [ ] the thrales fled from bath where a riot had broken out, and travelled about the country in alarm for mr. thrale's 'personal safety,' as it had been maliciously asserted in a bath and bristol paper that he was a papist. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] on may he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'i have been so idle that i know not when i shall get either to you, or to any other place; for my resolution is to stay here till the work is finished.... i hope, however, to see standing corn in some part of the earth this summer, but i shall hardly smell hay, or suck clover flowers.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] it will, no doubt, be remarked how he avoids the _rebellious_ land of america. this puts me in mind of an anecdote, for which i am obliged to my worthy social friend, governour richard penn: 'at one of miss e. hervey's assemblies, dr. johnson was following her up and down the room; upon which lord abingdon observed to her, "your great friend is very fond of you; you can go no where without him."--"ay, (said she), he would follow me to any part of the world."--"then (said the earl), ask him to go with you to _america_.'" boswell. this lady was the niece of johnson's friends the herveys [_ante_, i. ]. croker. [ ] _essays on the history of mankind_. boswell. johnson could scarcely have known that dunbar was an active opponent of the american war. mackintosh, who was his pupil, writes of him:--'i shall ever be grateful to his memory for having contributed to breathe into my mind a strong spirit of liberty.' mackintosh's _life_, i. . the younger colman, who attended, or rather neglected to attend his lectures, speaks of him as 'an acute frosty-faced little dr. dunbar, a man of much erudition, and great goodnature.' _random records_, ii. . [ ] mr. seward (_biographiana_, p. ) says that this clergyman was 'the son of an old and learned friend of his'--the rev. mr. hoole, i conjecture. [ ] see _post_, iv. , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] dr. percy, now bishop of dromore. boswell [ ] johnson, in , passed some weeks at percy's rectory. _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante,_, i. [ ] 'o præclarum diem quum ad illud divinum animorum concilium c'tumque profiscar.' cicero's _de senectute_, c. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] i had not then seen his letters to mrs. thrale. boswell. [ ] in the _life of edmund smith_. see _ante_, i. , and johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] unlike walmsley and johnson, of whom one was a whig, the other a tory. 'walmsley was a whig,' wrote johnson, 'with all the virulence and malevolence of his party; yet difference of opinion did not keep us apart. i honoured him, and he endured me.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] miss burney described an evening spent by johnson at dr. burney's some weeks earlier:--'he was in high spirits and good humour, talked all the talk, affronted nobody, and delighted everybody. i never saw him more sweet, nor better attended to by his audience.' in december she wrote:--'dr. johnson is very gay, and sociable, and comfortable, and quite as kind to me as ever.' a little later she wrote to mrs. thrale:--'does dr. johnson continue gay and good-humoured, and "valuing nobody" in a morning?' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. , , . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] the charterhouse. [ ] macbean was, on lord thurlow's nomination, admitted 'a poor brother of the charterhouse.' _ante_, i. . johnson, on macbean's death on june , , wrote:--'he was one of those who, as swift says, _stood as a screen between me and death_. he has, i hope, made a good exchange. he was very pious; he was very innocent; he did no ill; and of doing good a continual tenour of distress allowed him few opportunities; he was very highly esteemed in the house [the charterhouse].' _piozzi letters_, ii. . the quotation from swift is found in the lines _on the death of dr. swift_:-- 'the fools, my juniors by a year, are tortured with suspense and fear, who wisely thought my age a screen, when death approached, to stand between.' swift's _works_, ed. , xi. . [ ] johnson, in may, had persuaded mrs. thrale to come up from bath to canvass for mr. thrale. 'my opinion is that you should come for a week, and show yourself, and talk in high terms. be brisk, and be splendid, and be publick. the voters of the borough are too proud and too little dependant to be solicited by deputies; they expect the gratification of seeing the candidate bowing or curtseying before them. if you are proud, they can be sullen. mr. thrale certainly shall not come, and yet somebody must appear whom the people think it worth the while to look at.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] hawkins's _johnsons works_, xi. . it is curious that psalmanazar, in his _memoirs_, p. , uses the mongrel word _transmogrify_. [ ] taylor's _life of reynolds_, ii. . [ ] boswell, when in the year he was starting from berlin for geneva, wrote to mr. mitchell, the english minister at berlin:--'i shall see voltaire; i shall also see switzerland and rousseau. these two men are to me greater objects than most statues or pictures.' nichols's _lit. hist_. ed. , vii. . [ ] see _post,_ iv. , note for boswell's grievance against pitt. the end of the third volume. distributed proofreaders boswell's life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides, and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford in six volumes volume ii.--life ( - ) contents of vol. ii. life of samuel johnson, ll.d. (november, -march, ) appendices: a. autograph records by johnson ( ) in the bodleian library b. johnson's sentiments towards his fellow-subjects in america the life of samuel johnson, ll.d. in and it should seem that dr. johnson was so busily employed with his edition of shakspeare, as to have had little leisure for any other literary exertion, or, indeed, even for private correspondence[ ]. he did not favour me with a single letter for more than two years, for which it will appear that he afterwards apologised. he was, however, at all times ready to give assistance to his friends, and others, in revising their works, and in writing for them, or greatly improving their dedications. in that courtly species of composition no man excelled dr. johnson. though the loftiness of his mind prevented him from ever dedicating in his own person[ ], he wrote a very great number of dedications for others. some of these, the persons who were favoured with them are unwilling should be mentioned, from a too anxious apprehension, as i think, that they might be suspected of having received larger assistance[ ]; and some, after all the diligence i have bestowed, have escaped my enquiries. he told me, a great many years ago, 'he believed he had dedicated to all the royal family round[ ];' and it was indifferent to him what was the subject of the work dedicated, provided it were innocent. he once dedicated some musick for the german flute to edward, duke of york. in writing dedications for others, he considered himself as by no means speaking his own sentiments. notwithstanding his long silence, i never omitted to write to him when i had any thing worthy of communicating. i generally kept copies of my letters to him, that i might have a full view of our correspondence, and never be at a loss to understand any reference in his letters[ ]. he kept the greater part of mine very carefully; and a short time before his death was attentive enough to seal them up in bundles, and order them to be delivered to me, which was accordingly done. amongst them i found one, of which i had not made a copy, and which i own i read with pleasure at the distance of almost twenty years. it is dated november, , at the palace of pascal paoli, in corte, the capital of corsica, and is full of generous enthusiasm[ ]. after giving a sketch of what i had seen and heard in that island, it proceeded thus: 'i dare to call this a spirited tour. i dare, to challenge your approbation.' this letter produced the following answer, which i found on my arrival at paris. a mr. mr. boswell, chez mr. waters, banquier, à paris. 'dear sir, 'apologies are seldom of any use. we will delay till your arrival the reasons, good or bad, which have made me such a sparing and ungrateful correspondent. be assured, for the present, that nothing has lessened either the esteem or love with which i dismissed you at harwich. both have been increased by all that i have been told of you by yourself or others; and[ ] when you return, you will return to an unaltered, and, i hope, unalterable friend. 'all that you have to fear from me is the vexation of disappointing me. no man loves to frustrate expectations which have been formed in his favour; and the pleasure which i promise myself from your journals and remarks is so great, that perhaps no degree of attention or discernment will be sufficient to afford it. 'come home, however, and take your chance. i long to see you, and to hear you; and hope that we shall not be so long separated again. come home, and expect such a welcome as is due to him whom a wise and noble curiosity has led, where perhaps no native of this country ever was before[ ]. 'i have no news to tell you that can deserve your notice; nor would i willingly lessen the pleasure that any novelty may give you at your return. i am afraid we shall find it difficult to keep among us a mind which has been so long feasted with variety. but let us try what esteem and kindness can effect. 'as your father's liberality has indulged you with so long a ramble, i doubt not but you will think his sickness, or even his desire to see you, a sufficient reason for hastening your return. the longer we live, and the more we think, the higher value we learn to put on the friendship and tenderness of parents and of friends. parents we can have but once; and he promises himself too much, who enters life with the expectation of finding many friends. upon some motive, i hope, that you will be here soon; and am willing to think that it will be an inducement to your return, that it is sincerely desired by, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's court, fleet-street, january , .' i returned to london in february, and found dr. johnson in a good house in johnson's court, fleet-street[ ], in which he had accommodated miss williams with an apartment on the ground floor, while mr. levett occupied his post in the garret: his faithful francis was still attending upon him. he received me with much kindness. the fragments of our first conversation, which i have preserved, are these: i told him that voltaire, in a conversation with me, had distinguished pope and dryden thus:--'pope drives a handsome chariot, with a couple of neat trim nags; dryden a coach, and six stately horses.' johnson. 'why, sir, the truth is, they both drive coaches and six; but dryden's horses are either galloping or stumbling: pope's go at a steady even trot[ ].' he said of goldsmith's _traveller_, which had been published in my absence, 'there has not been so fine a poem since pope's time.' and here it is proper to settle, with authentick precision, what has long floated in publick report, as to johnson's being himself the authour of a considerable part of that poem. much, no doubt, both of the sentiments and expression, were derived from conversation with him; and it was certainly submitted to his friendly revision: but in the year , he, at my request, marked with a pencil the lines which he had furnished, which are only line th, 'to stop too fearful, and too faint to go;' and the concluding ten lines, except the last couplet but one, which i distinguish by the italick character: 'how small of all that human hearts endure, that part which kings or laws[ ] can cause or cure. still to ourselves in every place consign'd, our own felicity we make or find[ ]; with secret course, which no loud storms annoy, glides the smooth current of domestick joy: _the lifted axe, the agonizing wheel, luke's iron crown, and damien's bed of steel_, to men remote from power, but rarely known, leave reason, faith, and conscience, all our own.' he added, 'these are all of which i can be sure[ ].' they bear a small proportion to the whole, which consists of four hundred and thirty-eight verses. goldsmith, in the couplet which he inserted, mentions luke as a person well known, and superficial readers have passed it over quite smoothly; while those of more attention have been as much perplexed by _luke_, as by _lydiat_[ ], in _the vanity of human wishes_. the truth is, that goldsmith himself was in a mistake. in the _respublica hungarian_[ ], there is an account of a desperate rebellion in the year , headed by two brothers, of the name of _zeck_, george and luke. when it was quelled, _george_, not _luke_, was punished by his head being encircled with a red-hot iron crown: '_coronâ candescente ferreâ coronatur_[ ].' the same severity of torture was exercised on the earl of athol, one of the murderers of king james i. of scotland. dr. johnson at the same time favoured me by marking the lines which he furnished to goldsmith's _deserted village_, which are only the last four: 'that trade's proud empire hastes to swift decay, as ocean sweeps the labour'd mole away: while self-dependent power can time defy, as rocks resist the billows and the sky.' talking of education, 'people have now a days, (said he,) got a strange opinion that every thing should be taught by lectures. now, i cannot see that lectures can do so much good as reading the books from which the lectures are taken. i know nothing that can be best taught by lectures[ ], except where experiments are to be shewn. you may teach chymistry by lectures.--you might teach making of shoes by lectures[ ]!' at night i supped with him at the mitre tavern, that we might renew our social intimacy at the original place of meeting. but there was now a considerable difference in his way of living. having had an illness, in which he was advised to leave off wine, he had, from that period, continued to abstain from it, and drank only water, or lemonade[ ]. i told him that a foreign friend of his[ ], whom i had met with abroad, was so wretchedly perverted to infidelity, that he treated the hopes of immortality with brutal levity; and said, 'as man dies like a dog, let him lie like a dog.' johnson. '_if_ he dies like a dog, _let_ him lie like a dog.' i added, that this man said to me, 'i hate mankind, for i think myself one of the best of them, and i know how bad i am.' johnson. 'sir, he must be very singular in his opinion, if he thinks himself one of the best of men; for none of his friends think him so.'--he said, 'no honest man could be a deist; for no man could be so after a fair examination of the proofs of christianity.' i named hume[ ]. johnson. 'no, sir; hume owned to a clergyman in the bishoprick of durham, that he had never read the new testament with attention.' i mentioned hume's notion[ ], that all who are happy are equally happy; a little miss with a new gown at a dancing school ball, a general at the head of a victorious army, and an orator, after having made an eloquent speech in a great assembly. johnson. 'sir, that all who are happy, are equally happy, is not true. a peasant and a philosopher may be equally _satisfied_, but not equally _happy_. happiness consists in the multiplicity of agreeable consciousness. a peasant has not capacity for having equal happiness with a philosopher.' i remember this very question very happily illustrated in opposition to hume, by the reverend mr. robert brown[ ], at utrecht. 'a small drinking-glass and a large one, (said he,) may be equally full; but the large one holds more than the small.' dr. johnson was very kind this evening, and said to me, 'you have now lived five-and-twenty years, and you have employed them well.' 'alas, sir, (said i,) i fear not. do i know history? do i know mathematicks? do i know law?' johnson. 'why, sir, though you may know no science so well as to be able to teach it, and no profession so well as to be able to follow it, your general mass of knowledge of books and men renders you very capable to make yourself master of any science, or fit yourself for any profession.' i mentioned that a gay friend had advised me against being a lawyer, because i should be excelled by plodding block-heads. johnson. 'why, sir, in the formulary and statutory part of law, a plodding block-head may excel; but in the ingenious and rational part of it a plodding block-head can never excel.' i talked of the mode adopted by some to rise in the world, by courting great men, and asked him whether he had ever submitted to it. johnson. 'why, sir, i never was near enough to great men, to court them. you may be prudently attached to great men and yet independent. you are not to do what you think wrong; and, sir, you are to calculate, and not pay too dear for what you get. you must not give a shilling's worth of court for six-pence worth of good. but if you can get a shilling's worth of good for six-pence worth of court, you are a fool if you do not pay court[ ].' he said, 'if convents should be allowed at all, they should only be retreats for persons unable to serve the publick, or who have served it. it is our first duty to serve society, and, after we have done that, we may attend wholly to the salvation of our own souls. a youthful passion for abstracted devotion should not be encouraged[ ].' i introduced the subject of second sight, and other mysterious manifestations; the fulfilment of which, i suggested, might happen by chance. johnson. 'yes, sir; but they have happened so often, that mankind have agreed to think them not fortuitous[ ].' i talked to him a great deal of what i had seen in corsica, and of my intention to publish an account of it. he encouraged me by saying, 'you cannot go to the bottom of the subject; but all that you tell us will be new to us. give us as many anecdotes as you can[ ].' our next meeting at the mitre was on saturday the th of february, when i presented to him my old and most intimate friend, the reverend mr. temple[ ], then of cambridge. i having mentioned that i had passed some time with rousseau in his wild retreat[ ], and having quoted some remark made by mr. wilkes, with whom i had spent many pleasant hours in italy, johnson said (sarcastically,) 'it seems, sir, you have kept very good company abroad, rousseau and wilkes!' thinking it enough to defend one at a time, i said nothing as to my gay friend, but answered with a smile, 'my dear sir, you don't call rousseau bad company. do you really think him a bad man?' johnson. 'sir, if you are talking jestingly of this, i don't talk with you. if you mean to be serious, i think him one of the worst of men; a rascal who ought to be hunted out of society, as he has been. three or four nations have expelled him; and it is a shame that he is protected in this country[ ].' boswell. 'i don't deny, sir, but that his novel[ ] may, perhaps, do harm; but i cannot think his intention was bad.' johnson. 'sir, that will not do. we cannot prove any man's intention to be bad. you may shoot a man through the head, and say you intended to miss him; but the judge will order you to be hanged. an alleged want of intention, when evil is committed, will not be allowed in a court of justice. rousseau, sir, is a very bad man. i would sooner sign a sentence for his transportation, than that of any felon who has gone from the old bailey these many years. yes, i should like to have him work in the plantations[ ].' boswell. 'sir, do you think him as bad a man as voltaire?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is difficult to settle the proportion of iniquity between them[ ].' this violence seemed very strange to me, who had read many of rousseau's animated writings with great pleasure, and even edification, had been much pleased with his society[ ], and was just come from the continent, where he was very generally admired. nor can i yet allow that he deserves the very severe censure which johnson pronounced upon him. his absurd preference of savage to civilised life[ ], and other singularities, are proofs rather of a defect in his understanding, than of any depravity in his heart. and notwithstanding the unfavourable opinion which many worthy men have expressed of his '_profession de foi du vicaire savoyard_', i cannot help admiring it as the performance of a man full of sincere reverential submission to divine mystery, though beset with perplexing doubts; a state of mind to be viewed with pity rather than with anger. on his favourite subject of subordination, johnson said, 'so far is it from being true that men are naturally equal[ ], that no two people can be half an hour together, but one shall acquire an evident superiority over the other.' i mentioned the advice given us by philosophers, to console ourselves, when distressed or embarrassed, by thinking of those who are in a worse situation than ourselves. this, i observed, could not apply to all, for there must be some who have nobody worse than they are. johnson. 'why, to be sure, sir, there are; but they don't know it. there is no being so poor and so contemptible, who does not think there is somebody still poorer, and still more contemptible.' as my stay in london at this time was very short, i had not many opportunities of being with dr. johnson; but i felt my veneration for him in no degree lessened, by my having seen _mullorum hominum mores et urbes_[ ]. on the contrary, by having it in my power to compare him with many of the most celebrated persons of other countries[ ], my admiration of his extraordinary mind was increased and confirmed. the roughness, indeed, which sometimes appeared in his manners, was more striking to me now, from my having been accustomed to the studied smooth complying habits of the continent; and i clearly recognised in him, not without respect for his honest conscientious zeal, the same indignant and sarcastical mode of treating every attempt to unhinge or weaken good principles. one evening when a young gentleman[ ] teized him with an account of the infidelity of his servant, who, he said, would not believe the scriptures, because he could not read them in the original tongues, and be sure that they were not invented. 'why, foolish fellow, (said johnson,) has he any better authority for almost every thing that he believes?' boswell. 'then the vulgar, sir, never can know they are right, but must submit themselves to the learned.' johnson. 'to be sure, sir. the vulgar are the children of the state, and must be taught like children[ ].' boswell. 'then, sir, a poor turk must be a mahometan, just as a poor englishman must be a christian[ ]?' johnson. 'why, yes, sir; and what then? this now is such stuff as i used to talk to my mother, when i first began to think myself a clever fellow; and she ought to have whipt me for it.' another evening dr. goldsmith and i called on him, with the hope of prevailing on him to sup with us at the mitre. we found him indisposed, and resolved not to go abroad. 'come then, (said goldsmith,) we will not go to the mitre to-night, since we cannot have the big man[ ] with us.' johnson then called for a bottle of port, of which goldsmith and i partook, while our friend, now a water-drinker, sat by us. goldsmith. 'i think, mr. johnson, you don't go near the theatres now. you give yourself no more concern about a new play, than if you had never had any thing to do with the stage.' johnson. 'why, sir, our tastes greatly alter. the lad does not care for the child's rattle, and the old man does not care for the young man's whore.' goldsmith. 'nay, sir, but your muse was not a whore.' johnson. 'sir, i do not think she was. but as we advance in the journey of life, we drop some of the things which have pleased us; whether it be that we are fatigued and don't choose to carry so many things any farther, or that we find other things which we like better.' boswell. 'but, sir, why don't you give us something in some other way?' goldsmith. 'ay, sir, we have a claim upon you[ ].' johnson. 'no, sir, i am not obliged to do any more. no man is obliged to do as much as he can do. a man is to have part of his life to himself. if a soldier has fought a good many campaigns, he is not to be blamed if he retires to ease and tranquillity. a physician, who has practised long in a great city, may be excused if he retires to a small town, and takes less practice. now, sir, the good i can do by my conversation bears the same proportion to the good i can do by my writings, that the practice of a physician, retired to a small town, does to his practice in a great city[ ].' boswell. 'but i wonder, sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.' johnson. 'sir, you _may_ wonder.' he talked of making verses, and observed, 'the great difficulty is to know when you have made good ones. when composing, i have generally had them in my mind, perhaps fifty at a time, walking up and down in my room; and then i have written them down, and often, from laziness, have written only half lines. i have written a hundred lines in a day. i remember i wrote a hundred lines of _the vanity of human wishes_ in a day[ ]. doctor, (turning to goldsmith,) i am not quite idle; i have one line t'other day; but i made no more.' goldsmith. 'let us hear it; we'll put a bad one to it.. johnson. 'no, sir, i have forgot it.[ ]' such specimens of the easy and playful conversation of the great dr. samuel johnson are, i think, to be prized; as exhibiting the little varieties of a mind so enlarged and so powerful when objects of consequence required its exertions, and as giving us a minute knowledge of his character and modes of thinking. 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'what your friends have done, that from your departure till now nothing has been heard of you, none of us are able to inform the rest; but as we are all neglected alike, no one thinks himself entitled to the privilege of complaint. 'i should have known nothing of you or of langton, from the time that dear miss langton left us, had not i met mr. simpson, of lincoln, one day in the street, by whom i was informed that mr. langton, your mamma, and yourself, had been all ill, but that you were all recovered. 'that sickness should suspend your correspondence, i did not wonder; but hoped that it would be renewed at your recovery. 'since you will not inform us where you are, or how you live, i know not whether you desire to know any thing of us. however, i will tell you that the club subsists; but we have the loss of burke's company since he has been engaged in publick business[ ], in which he has gained more reputation than perhaps any man at his [first] appearance ever gained before. he made two speeches in the house for repealing the stamp-act, which were publickly commended by mr. pitt, and have filled the town with wonder[ ]. 'burke is a great man by nature, and is expected soon to attain civil greatness[ ]. i am grown greater too, for i have maintained the newspapers these many weeks[ ]; and what is greater still, i have risen every morning since new-year's day, at about eight; when i was up, i have indeed done but little; yet it is no slight advancement to obtain for so many hours more, the consciousness of being. 'i wish you were in my new study[ ]; i am now writing the first letter in it. i think it looks very pretty about me. 'dyer[ ] is constant at the club; hawkins is remiss; i am not over diligent. dr. nugent, dr. goldsmith, and mr. reynolds, are very constant. mr. lye is printing his saxon and gothick dictionary[ ]; all the club subscribes. 'you will pay my respects to all my lincolnshire friends. i am, dear sir, 'most affectionately your's, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , . johnson's-court, fleet-street[ ].' 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'in supposing that i should be more than commonly affected by the death of peregrine langton[ ], you were not mistaken; he was one of those whom i loved at once by instinct and by reason. i have seldom indulged more hope of any thing than of being able to improve our acquaintance to friendship. many a time have i placed myself again at langton, and imagined the pleasure with which i should walk to partney[ ] in a summer morning; but this is no longer possible. we must now endeavour to preserve what is left us,--his example of piety and oeconomy. i hope you make what enquiries you can, and write down what is told you. the little things which distinguish domestick characters are soon forgotten: if you delay to enquire, you will have no information; if you neglect to write, information will be vain[ ]. 'his art of life certainly deserves to be known and studied. he lived in plenty and elegance upon an income which, to many would appear indigent, and to most, scanty. how he lived, therefore, every man has an interest in knowing. his death, i hope, was peaceful; it was surely happy. 'i wish i had written sooner, lest, writing now, i should renew your grief; but i would not forbear saying what i have now said. 'this loss is, i hope, the only misfortune of a family to whom no misfortune at all should happen, if my wishes could avert it. let me know how you all go on. has mr. langton got him the little horse that i recommended? it would do him good to ride about his estate in fine weather. 'be pleased to make my compliments to mrs. langton, and to dear miss langton, and miss di, and miss juliet, and to every body else. 'the wonder, with most that hear an account of his oeconomy, will be, how he was able, with such an income, to do so much, especially when it is considered that he paid for everything he had; he had no land, except the two or three small fields which i have said he rented; and, instead of gaining any thing by their produce, i have reason to think he lost by them; however, they furnished him with no further assistance towards his housekeeping, than grass for his horses, (not hay, for that i know he bought,) and for two cows. every monday morning he settled his family accounts, and so kept up a constant attention to the confining his expences within his income; and to do it more exactly, compared those expences with a computation he had made, how much that income would afford him every week and day of the year. one of his oeconomical practices was, as soon as any repair was wanting in or about his house, to have it immediately performed. when he had money to spare, he chose to lay in a provision of linen or clothes, or any other necessaries; as then, he said, he could afford it, which he might not be so well able to do when the actual want came; in consequence of which method, he had a considerable supply of necessary articles lying by him, beside what was in use. 'but the main particular that seems to have enabled him to do so much with his income, was, that he paid for every thing as soon as he had it, except, alone, what were current accounts, such as rent for his house and servants' wages; and these he paid at the stated times with the utmost exactness. he gave notice to the tradesmen of the neighbouring market-towns that they should no longer have his custom, if they let any of his servants have anything without their paying for it. thus he put it out of his power to commit those imprudences to which those are liable that defer their payments by using their money some other way than where it ought to go. and whatever money he had by him, he knew that it was not demanded elsewhere, but that he might safely employ it as he pleased. 'his example was confined, by the sequestered place of his abode, to the observation of few, though his prudence and virtue would have made it valuable to all who could have known it.--these few particulars, which i knew myself, or have obtained from those who lived with him, may afford instruction, and be an incentive to that wise art of living, which he so successfully practised.' boswell. 'the club holds very well together. monday is my night[ ]. i continue to rise tolerably well, and read more than i did. i hope something will yet come on it[ ]. i am, sir, 'your most affectionate servant, 'sam johnson' 'may , , johnson's-court, fleet-street.' after i had been some time in scotland, i mentioned to him in a letter that 'on my first return to my native country, after some years of absence, i was told of a vast number of my acquaintance who were all gone to the land of forgetfulness, and i found myself like a man stalking over a field of battle, who every moment perceives some one lying dead.' i complained of irresolution, and mentioned my having made a vow as a security for good conduct. i wrote to him again, without being able to move his indolence; nor did i hear from him till he had received a copy of my inaugural exercise, or thesis in civil law, which i published at my admission as an advocate, as is the custom in scotland. he then wrote to me as follows: 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'the reception of your thesis put me in mind of my debt to you why did you ----[ ]. i will punish you for it, by telling you that your latin wants correction[ ]. in the beginning, _spei alterae_, not to urge that it should be _prima_, is not grammatical: _alterae_ should be _alteri_. in the next line you seem to use _genus_ absolutely, for what we call _family_, that is, for _illustrious extraction_, i doubt without authority. _homines nullius originis_, for _nullis orti majoribus_, or, _nullo loco nati_, is, i am afraid, barbarous.--ruddiman is dead[ ]. 'i have now vexed you enough, and will try to please you. your resolution to obey your father i sincerely approve; but do not accustom yourself to enchain your volatility by vows: they will sometime leave a thorn in your mind, which you will, perhaps, never be able to extract or eject. take this warning, it is of great importance[ ]. 'the study of the law is what you very justly term it, copious and generous[ ]; and in adding your name to its professors, you have done exactly what i always wished, when i wished you best. i hope that you will continue to pursue it vigorously and constantly[ ]. you gain, at least, what is no small advantage, security from those troublesome and wearisome discontents, which are always obtruding themselves upon a mind vacant, unemployed, and undetermined. 'you ought to think it no small inducement to diligence and perseverance, that they will please your father. we all live upon the hope of pleasing somebody; and the pleasure of pleasing ought to be greatest, and at last always will be greatest, when our endeavours are exerted in consequence of our duty. 'life is not long, and too much of it must not pass in idle deliberation how it shall be spent; deliberation, which those who begin it by prudence, and continue it with subtilty, must, after long expence of thought, conclude by chance[ ]. to prefer one future mode of life to another, upon just reasons, requires faculties which it has not pleased our creator to give us. 'if, therefore, the profession you have chosen has some unexpected inconveniencies, console yourself by reflecting that no profession is without them; and that all the importunities and perplexities of business are softness and luxury, compared with the incessant cravings of vacancy, and the unsatisfactory expedients of idleness. "_haec sunt quce nostra polui te voce monere[ ]; vade, age_." 'as to your _history of corsica_, you have no materials which others have not, or may not have. you have, somehow, or other, warmed your imagination. i wish there were some cure, like the lover's leap, for all heads of which some single idea has obtained an unreasonable and irregular possession. mind your own affairs, and leave the corsicans to theirs. i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, aug. , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'auchinleck, nov. , . 'much esteemed and dear sir, 'i plead not guilty to[ ]---- 'having thus, i hope, cleared myself of the charge brought against me, i presume you will not be displeased if i escape the punishment which you have decreed for me unheard. if you have discharged the arrows of criticism against an innocent man, you must rejoice to find they have missed him, or have not been pointed so as to wound him. 'to talk no longer in allegory, i am, with all deference, going to offer a few observations in defence of my latin, which you have found fault with. 'you think i should have used _spei primæ_, instead of _spei alteræ_. _spes_ is, indeed, often used to express something on which we have a future dependence, as in virg. eclog. i. l. , ".... _modo namque gemellos_ spem _gregis ah silice in nudá connixa reliquit_." and in georg. iii. l. , "spemque _gregemque simul_," for the lambs and the sheep. yet it is also used to express any thing on which we have a present dependence, and is well applied to a man of distinguished influence, our support, our refuge, our _præsidium_, as horace calls mæcenas. so, �neid xii. l. , queen amata addresses her son-in-law turnus:--"spes _tu nunc una_:" and he was then no future hope, for she adds, "... _decus imperiumque latini te penes_;" which might have been said of my lord bute some years ago. now i consider the present earl of bute to be '_excelsæ familiæ de bute_ spes prima;' and my lord mountstuart, as his eldest son, to be '_spes altera_.' so in �neid xii. l. , after having mentioned pater �neas, who was the _present_ spes, the _reigning_ spes, as my german friends would say, the _spes prima_, the poet adds, "_et juxta ascanius, magnae_ spes altera _romæ_." 'you think _alteræ_ ungrammatical, and you tell me it should have been _alteri_. you must recollect, that in old times _alter_ was declined regularly; and when the ancient fragments preserved in the _juris civilis fontes_ were written, it was certainly declined in the way that i use it. this, i should think, may protect a lawyer who writes _alteræ_ in a dissertation upon part of his own science. but as i could hardly venture to quote fragments of old law to so classical a man as mr. johnson, i have not made an accurate search into these remains, to find examples of what i am able to produce in poetical composition. we find in plaut. rudens, act iii. scene , "_nam jiuic alters patria qua: sit profecto nescio_." plautus is, to be sure, an old comick writer: but in the days of scipio and lelius, we find, terent. heautontim. act ii. scene , ".... hoc ipsa in itinere alteræ dum narrat, forte audivi." 'you doubt my having authority for using _genus_ absolutely, for what we call _family_, that is, for _illustrious extraction_. now i take _genus_ in latin, to have much the same signification with _birth_ in english; both in their primary meaning expressing simply descent, but both made to stand [greek: kat exochaen] noble descent. _genus_ is thus used in hor. lib. ii. sat. v. . , "_et genus et virtus, nisi cum re, vilior alga est_." 'and in lib. i. epist. vi. . , "_et genus et forinam regina pecunia donat_." 'and in the celebrated contest between ajax and ulysses, ovid's metamorph. lib. xiii. . , "_nam genus et proavos, et quæ--non fecimus ipsi vix ea nostra voco_." '_homines nullius originis_, for _nullis orti majoribus_, or _nullo loco nati_, is, you are "afraid, barbarous." '_origo_ is used to signify extraction, as in virg. �neid i. . , "_nascetur pulchrd trojanus_ origine _cæsar_." and in �neid x. . , "_ille tamen nostrâ deducit_ origine _nomen_" and as _nullus_ is used for obscure, is it not in the genius of the latin language to write _nullius originis_, for obscure extraction? 'i have defended myself as well as i could. 'might i venture to differ from you with regard to the utility of vows? i am sensible that it would be very dangerous to make vows rashly, and without a due consideration. but i cannot help thinking that they may often be of great advantage to one of a variable judgement and irregular inclinations. i always remember a passage in one of your letters to our italian friend baretti; where talking of the monastick life, you say you do not wonder that serious men should put themselves under the protection of a religious order, when they have found how unable they are to take care of themselves.[ ] for my own part, without affecting to be a socrates, i am sure i have a more than ordinary struggle to maintain with _the evil principle_; and all the methods i can devise are little enough to keep me tolerably steady in the paths of rectitude. * * * * * 'i am ever, with the highest veneration, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' it appears from johnson's diary, that he was this year at mr. thrale's, from before midsummer till after michaelmas, and that he afterwards passed a month at oxford. he had then contracted a great intimacy with mr. chambers of that university, afterwards sir robert chambers, one of the judges in india.[ ] he published nothing this year in his own name; but the noble dedication[ ][*] to the king, of gwyn's _london and westminster improved_, was written by him; and he furnished the preface,[dagger] and several of the pieces, which compose a volume of _miscellanies_ by mrs. anna williams, the blind lady who had an asylum in his house. of these, there are his 'epitaph on philips,'[ ][*] 'translation of a latin epitaph on sir thomas hanmer,'[ ][dagger] 'friendship, an ode,'[ ][*] and, 'the ant,'[*] a paraphrase from the proverbs, of which i have a copy in his own hand-writing; and, from internal evidence, i ascribe to him, 'to miss ----, on her giving the authour a gold and silk net-work purse of her own weaving'[ ]; [dagger] and, 'the happy life.'[ ][dagger] most of the pieces in this volume have evidently received additions from his superiour pen, particularly 'verses to mr. richardson, on his sir charles grandison;' 'the excursion;' 'reflections on a grave digging in westminster abbey.'[ ] there is in this collection a poem 'on the death of stephen grey, the electrician;'[*] which, on reading it, appeared to me to be undoubtedly johnson's. i asked mrs. williams whether it was not his. 'sir, (said she, with some warmth,) i wrote that poem before i had the honour of dr. johnson's acquaintance.' i, however, was so much impressed with my first notion, that i mentioned it to johnson, repeating, at the same time, what mrs. williams had said. his answer was, 'it is true, sir, that she wrote it before she was acquainted with me; but she has not told you that i wrote it all over again, except two lines.'[ ] 'the fountains,'[dagger] a beautiful little fairy tale in prose, written with exquisite simplicity, is one of johnson's productions; and i cannot with-hold from mrs. thrale the praise of being the authour of that admirable poem, 'the three warnings.' he wrote this year a letter, not intended for publication, which has, perhaps, as strong marks of his sentiment and style, as any of his compositions. the original is in my possession. it is addressed to the late mr. william drummond, bookseller in edinburgh, a gentleman of good family, but small estate, who took arms for the house of stuart in ; and during his concealment in london till the act of general pardon came out obtained the acquaintance of dr. johnson, who justly esteemed him as a very worthy man. it seems, some of the members of the society in scotland for propagating christian knowledge, had opposed the scheme of translating the holy scriptures into the erse or gaelick language, from political considerations of the disadvantage of keeping up the distinction between the highlanders and the other inhabitants of north-britain. dr. johnson being informed of this, i suppose by mr. drummond, wrote with a generous indignation as follows: 'to mr. william drummond. 'sir, 'i did not expect to hear that it could be, in an assembly convened for the propagation of christian knowledge, a question whether any nation uninstructed in religion should receive instruction; or whether that instruction should be imparted to them by a translation of the holy books into their own language. if obedience to the will of god be necessary to happiness, and knowledge of his will be necessary to obedience, i know not how he that with-holds this knowledge, or delays it, can be said to love his neighbour as himself. he that voluntarily continues ignorance, is guilty of all the crimes which ignorance produces; as to him that should extinguish the tapers of a light-house, might justly be imputed the calamities of shipwrecks. christianity is the highest perfection of humanity; and as no man is good but as he wishes the good of others, no man can be good in the highest degree who wishes not to others the largest measures of the greatest good. to omit for a year, or for a day, the most efficacious method of advancing christianity, in compliance with any purposes that terminate on this side of the grave, is a crime of which i know not that the world has yet had an example, except in the practice of the planters of america,[ ] a race of mortals whom, i suppose, no other man wishes to resemble.[ ] 'the papists have, indeed, denied to the laity the use of the bible; but this prohibition, in few places now very rigorously enforced, is defended by arguments, which have for their foundation the care of souls. to obscure, upon motives merely political, the light of revelation, is a practice reserved for the reformed; and, surely, the blackest midnight of popery is meridian sunshine to such a reformation. i am not very willing that any language should be totally extinguished. the similitude and derivation of languages afford the most indubitable proof of the traduction of nations, and the genealogy of mankind.[ ] they add often physical certainty to historical evidence; and often supply the only evidence of ancient migrations, and of the revolutions of ages which left no written monuments behind them. 'every man's opinions, at least his desires, are a little influenced by his favourite studies. my zeal for languages may seem, perhaps, rather over-heated, even to those by whom i desire to be well-esteemed. to those who have nothing in their thoughts but trade or policy, present power, or present money, i should not think it necessary to defend my opinions; but with men of letters i would not unwillingly compound, by wishing the continuance of every language, however narrow in its extent, or however incommodious for common purposes, till it is reposited in some version of a known book, that it may be always hereafter examined and compared with other languages, and then permitting its disuse. for this purpose, the translation of the bible is most to be desired. it is not certain that the same method will not preserve the highland language, for the purposes of learning, and abolish it from daily use. when the highlanders read the bible, they will naturally wish to have its obscurities cleared, and to know the history, collateral or appendant. knowledge always desires increase: it is like fire, which must first be kindled by some external agent, but which will afterwards propagate itself. when they once desire to learn, they will naturally have recourse to the nearest language by which that desire can be gratified; and one will tell another that if he would attain knowledge, he must learn english. 'this speculation may, perhaps, be thought more subtle than the grossness of real life will easily admit. let it, however, be remembered, that the efficacy of ignorance has been long tried, and has not produced the consequence expected. let knowledge, therefore, take its turn; and let the patrons of privation stand awhile aside, and admit the operation of positive principles. 'you will be pleased, sir, to assure the worthy man who is employed in the new translation,[ ] that he has my wishes for his success; and if here or at oxford i can be of any use, that i shall think it more than honour to promote his undertaking. 'i am sorry that i delayed so long to write. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, aug. , .' the opponents of this pious scheme being made ashamed of their conduct, the benevolent undertaking was allowed to go on[ ]. the following letters, though not written till the year after, being chiefly upon the same subject, are here inserted. 'to mr. william drummond. 'dear sir, 'that my letter should have had such effects as you mention, gives me great pleasure. i hope you do not flatter me by imputing to me more good than i have really done. those whom my arguments have persuaded to change their opinion, shew such modesty and candour as deserve great praise. 'i hope the worthy translator goes diligently forward. he has a higher reward in prospect than any honours which this world can bestow. i wish i could be useful to him. 'the publication of my letter, if it could be of use in a cause to which all other causes are nothing, i should not prohibit. but first, i would have you consider whether the publication will really do any good; next, whether by printing and distributing a very small number, you may not attain all that you propose; and, what perhaps i should have said first, whether the letter, which i do not now perfectly remember, be fit to be printed. 'if you can consult dr. robertson, to whom i am a little known, i shall be satisfied about the propriety of whatever he shall direct. if he thinks that it should be printed, i entreat him to revise it; there may, perhaps, be some negligent lines written, and whatever is amiss, he knows very well how to rectify[ ]. 'be pleased to let me know, from time to time, how this excellent design goes forward. 'make my compliments to young mr. drummond, whom i hope you will live to see such as you desire him. 'i have not lately seen mr. elphinston[ ], but believe him to be prosperous. i shall be glad to hear the same of you, for i am, sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, april , .' 'to the same. 'sir, 'i returned this week from the country, after an absence of near six months, and found your letter with many others, which i should have answered sooner, if i had sooner seen them. 'dr. robertson's opinion was surely right. men should not be told of the faults which they have mended. i am glad the old language is taught, and honour the translator as a man whom god has distinguished by the high office of propagating his word. 'i must take the liberty of engaging you in an office of charity. mrs. heely, the wife of mr. heely, who had lately some office in your theatre, is my near relation, and now in great distress. they wrote me word of their situation some time ago, to which i returned them an answer which raised hopes of more than it is proper for me to give them. their representation of their affairs i have discovered to be such as cannot be trusted; and at this distance, though their case requires haste, i know not how to act. she, or her daughters, may be heard of at canongate head. i must beg, sir, that you will enquire after them, and let me know what is to be done. i am willing to go to ten pounds, and will transmit you such a sum, if upon examination you find it likely to be of use. if they are in immediate want, advance them what you think proper. what i could do, i would do for the women, having no great reason to pay much regard to heely himself[ ]. 'i believe you may receive some intelligence from mrs. baker, of the theatre, whose letter i received at the same time with yours; and to whom, if you see her, you will make my excuse for the seeming neglect of answering her. 'whatever you advance within ten pounds shall be immediately returned to you, or paid as you shall order. i trust wholly to your judgement. 'i am, sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, johnson's-court, fleet-street, oct. , .' mr. cuthbert shaw[ ], alike distinguished by his genius, misfortunes, and misconduct, published this year a poem, called _the race_, by 'mercurius spur, esq.[ ],' in which he whimsically made the living poets of england contend for pre-eminence of fame by running: 'prove by their heels the prowess of the head.' in this poem there was the following portrait of johnson: 'here johnson comes,--unblest with outward grace, his rigid morals stamp'd upon his face. while strong conceptions struggle in his brain; (for even wit is brought to bed with pain:) to view him, porters with their loads would rest, and babes cling frighted to the nurse's breast. with looks convuls'd he roars in pompous strain, and, like an angry lion, shakes his mane. the nine, with terrour struck, who ne'er had seen, aught human with so horrible a mien, debating whether they should stay or run, virtue steps forth, and claims him for her son: with gentle speech she warns him now to yield, nor stain his glories in the doubtful field; but wrapt in conscious worth, content sit down, since fame, resolv'd his various pleas to crown, though forc'd his present claim to disavow, had long reserv'd a chaplet for his brow. he bows, obeys; for time shall first expire, ere johnson stay, when virtue bids retire.' the honourable thomas hervey[ ] and his lady having unhappily disagreed, and being about to separate, johnson interfered as their friend, and wrote him a letter of expostulation, which i have not been able to find; but the substance of it is ascertained by a letter to johnson in answer to it, which mr. hervey printed. the occasion of this correspondence between dr. johnson and mr. hervey, was thus related to me by mr. beauclerk[ ]. 'tom hervey had a great liking for johnson, and in his will had left him a legacy of fifty pounds. one day he said to me, "johnson may want this money now, more than afterwards. i have a mind to give it him directly. will you be so good as to carry a fifty pound note from me to him?" this i positively refused to do, as he might, perhaps, have knocked me down for insulting him, and have afterwards put the note in his pocket. but i said, if hervey would write him a letter, and enclose a fifty pound note, i should take care to deliver it. he accordingly did write him a letter, mentioning that he was only paying a legacy a little sooner. to his letter he added, "_p.s. i am going to part with my wife_." johnson then wrote to him, saying nothing of the note, but remonstrating with him against parting with his wife.' when i mentioned to johnson this story, in as delicate terms as i could, he told me that the fifty pound note was given to him by mr. hervey in consideration of his having written for him a pamphlet against sir charles hanbury williams, who, mr. hervey imagined, was the authour of an attack upon him; but that it was afterwards discovered to be the work of a garreteer who wrote _the fool_[ ]: the pamphlet therefore against sir charles was not printed.[ ] in february, , there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of johnson's life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his friends. this was his being honoured by a private conversation with his majesty, in the library at the queen's house[ ]. he had frequently visited those splendid rooms and noble collection of books[ ], which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the king had employed. mr. barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place; so that he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours. his majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when dr. johnson came next to the library. accordingly, the next time that johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, mr. barnard stole round to the apartment where the king was, and, in obedience to his majesty's commands, mentioned that dr. johnson was then in the library. his majesty said he was at leisure, and would go to him; upon which mr. barnard took one of the candles that stood on the king's table, and lighted his majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his majesty had the key. being entered, mr. barnard stepped forward hastily to dr. johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, 'sir, here is the king.' johnson started up, and stood still. his majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy[ ]. his majesty began by observing, that he understood he came sometimes to the library; and then mentioning his having heard that the doctor had been lately at oxford[ ], asked him if he was not fond of going thither. to which johnson answered, that he was indeed fond of going to oxford sometimes, but was likewise glad to come back again. the king then asked him what they were doing at oxford. johnson answered, he could not much commend their diligence, but that in some respects they were mended, for they had put their press under better regulations, and were at that time printing polybius. he was then asked whether there were better libraries at oxford or cambridge. he answered, he believed the bodleian was larger than any they had at cambridge; at the same time adding, 'i hope, whether we have more books or not than they have at cambridge, we shall make as good use of them as they do.' being asked whether all-souls or christ-church library[ ] was the largest, he answered, 'all-souls library is the largest we have, except the bodleian.' 'aye, (said the king,) that is the publick library.' his majesty enquired if he was then writing any thing. he answered, he was not, for he had pretty well told the world what he knew, and must now read to acquire more knowledge[ ]. the king, as it should seem with a view to urge him to rely on his own stores as an original writer, and to continue his labours[ ], then said 'i do not think you borrow much from any body.' johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a writer. 'i should have thought so too, (said the king,) if you had not written so well.'--johnson observed to me, upon this, that 'no man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. it was decisive.' when asked by another friend, at sir joshua reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, 'no, sir. when the king had said it, it was to be so. it was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign[ ].' perhaps no man who had spent his whole life in courts could have shewn a more nice and dignified sense of true politeness, than johnson did in this instance. his majesty having observed to him that he supposed he must have read a great deal; johnson answered, that he thought more than he read[ ]; that he had read a great deal in the early part of his life, but having fallen into ill health, he had not been able to read much, compared with others: for instance, he said he had not read much, compared with dr. warburton[ ]. upon which the king said, that he heard dr. warburton was a man of such general knowledge, that you could scarce talk with him on any subject on which he was not qualified to speak; and that his learning resembled garrick's acting, in its universality[ ]. his majesty then talked of the controversy between warburton and lowth, which he seemed to have read, and asked johnson what he thought of it. johnson answered, 'warburton has most general, most scholastick learning; lowth is the more correct scholar. i do not know which of them calls names best.' the king was pleased to say he was of the same opinion; adding, 'you do not think, then, dr. johnson, that there was much argument in the case.' johnson said, he did not think there was[ ]. 'why truly, (said the king,) when once it comes to calling names, argument is pretty well at an end.' his majesty then asked him what he thought of lord lyttelton's _history_, which was then just published[ ]. johnson said, he thought his style pretty good, but that he had blamed henry the second rather too much. 'why, (said the king), they seldom do these things by halves.' 'no, sir, (answered johnson), not to kings.' but fearing to be misunderstood, he proceeded to explain himself; and immediately subjoined, 'that for those who spoke worse of kings than they deserved, he could find no excuse; but that he could more easily conceive how some might speak better of them than they deserved, without any ill intention; for, as kings had much in their power to give, those who were favoured by them would frequently, from gratitude, exaggerate their praises; and as this proceeded from a good motive, it was certainly excusable, as far as errour could be excusable.' the king then asked him what he thought of dr. hill[ ]. johnson answered, that he was an ingenious man, but had no veracity; and immediately mentioned, as an instance of it, an assertion of that writer, that he had seen objects magnified to a much greater degree by using three or four microscopes at a time, than by using one. 'now, (added johnson,) every one acquainted with microscopes knows, that the more of them he looks through, the less the object will appear.' 'why, (replied the king,) this is not only telling an untruth, but telling it clumsily; for, if that be the case, every one who can look through a microscope will be able to detect him[ ].' 'i now, (said johnson to his friends, when relating what had passed) began to consider that i was depreciating this man in the estimation of his sovereign, and thought it was time for me to say something that might be more favourable.' he added, therefore, that dr. hill was, notwithstanding, a very curious observer; and if he would have been contented to tell the world no more than he knew, he might have been a very considerable man, and needed not to have recourse to such mean expedients to raise his reputation[ ]. the king then talked of literary journals, mentioned particularly the _journal des savans_, and asked johnson if it was well done. johnson said, it was formerly very well done, and gave some account of the persons who began it, and carried it on for some years; enlarging, at the same time, on the nature and use of such works. the king asked him if it was well done now. johnson answered, he had no reason to think that it was[ ]. the king then asked him if there were any other literary journals published in this kingdom, except the _monthly_ and _critical reviews_[ ]; and on being answered there were no other, his majesty asked which of them was the best: johnson answered, that the _monthly review_ was done with most care, the _critical_ upon the best principles; adding that the authours of the _monthly review_ were enemies to the church[ ]. this the king said he was sorry to hear. the conversation next turned on the philosophical transactions, when johnson observed, that they had now a better method of arranging their materials than formerly. 'aye, (said the king,) they are obliged to dr. johnson for that;' for his majesty had heard and remembered the circumstance, which johnson himself had forgot[ ]. his majesty expressed a desire to have the literary biography of this country ably executed, and proposed to dr. johnson to undertake it. johnson signified his readiness to comply with his majesty's wishes. during the whole of this interview, johnson talked to his majesty with profound respect, but still in his firm manly manner, with a sonorous voice, and never in that subdued tone which is commonly used at the levee and in the drawing-room[ ]. after the king withdrew, johnson shewed himself highly pleased with his majesty's conversation, and gracious behaviour. he said to mr. barnard, 'sir, they may talk of the king as they will; but he is the finest gentleman i have ever seen[ ].' and he afterwards observed to mr. langton, 'sir, his manners are those of as fine a gentleman as we may suppose lewis the fourteenth or charles the second.' at sir joshua reynolds's, where a circle of johnson's friends was collected round him to hear his account of this memorable conversation, dr. joseph warton, in his frank and lively manner[ ], was very active in pressing him to mention the particulars. 'come now, sir, this is an interesting matter; do favour us with it.' johnson, with great good humour, complied. he told them, 'i found his majesty wished i should talk, and i made it my business to talk. i find it does a man good to be talked to by his sovereign. in the first place, a man cannot be in a passion--.' here some question interrupted him, which is to be regretted, as he certainly would have pointed out and illustrated many circumstances of advantage, from being in a situation, where the powers of the mind are at once excited to vigorous exertion, and tempered by reverential awe. during all the time in which dr. johnson was employed in relating to the circle at sir joshua reynolds's the particulars of what passed between the king and him, dr. goldsmith remained unmoved upon a sopha at some distance, affecting not to join in the least in the eager curiosity of the company. he assigned as a reason for his gloom and seeming inattention, that he apprehended johnson had relinquished his purpose of furnishing him with a prologue to his play[ ], with the hopes of which he had been flattered; but it was strongly suspected that he was fretting with chagrin and envy at the singular honour dr. johnson had lately enjoyed. at length, the frankness and simplicity of his natural character prevailed. he sprung from the sopha, advanced to johnson, and in a kind of flutter, from imagining himself in the situation which he had just been hearing described, exclaimed, 'well, you acquitted yourself in this conversation better than i should have done; for i should have bowed and stammered through the whole of it[ ].' i received no letter from johnson this year; nor have i discovered any of the correspondence[ ] he had, except the two letters to mr. drummond, which have been inserted, for the sake of connection with that to the same gentleman in . his diary affords no light as to his employment at this time. he passed three months at lichfield[ ]; and i cannot omit an affecting and solemn scene there, as related by himself[ ]: 'sunday, oct. , . yesterday, oct. , at about ten in the morning, i took my leave for ever of my dear old friend, catharine chambers, who came to live with my mother about , and has been but little parted from us since. she buried my father, my brother, and my mother. she is now fifty-eight years old. 'i desired all to withdraw, then told her that we were to part for ever; that as christians, we should part with prayer; and that i would, if she was willing, say a short prayer beside her. she expressed great desire to hear me; and held up her poor hands, as she lay in bed, with great fervour, while i prayed, kneeling by her, nearly in the following words: 'almighty and most merciful father, whose loving kindness is over all thy works, behold, visit, and relieve this thy servant, who is grieved with sickness. grant that the sense of her weakness may add strength to her faith, and seriousness to her repentance. and grant that by the help of thy holy spirit, after the pains and labours of this short life, we may all obtain everlasting happiness, through jesus christ our lord; for whose sake hear our prayers. amen. our father, &c. 'i then kissed her. she told me, that to part was the greatest pain that she had ever felt, and that she hoped we should meet again in a better place. i expressed, with swelled eyes, and great emotion of tenderness, the same hopes. we kissed, and parted. i humbly hope to meet again, and to part no more[ ].' by those who have been taught to look upon johnson as a man of a harsh and stern character, let this tender and affectionate scene be candidly read; and let them then judge whether more warmth of heart, and grateful kindness, is often found in human nature. we have the following notice in his devotional record: 'august , . i have been disturbed and unsettled for a long time, and have been without resolution to apply to study or to business, being hindered by sudden snatches[ ].' he, however, furnished mr. adams with a dedication[*] to the king of that ingenious gentleman's _treatise on the globes_, conceived and expressed in such a manner as could not fail to be very grateful to a monarch, distinguished for his love of the sciences. this year was published a ridicule of his style, under the title of _lexiphanes_. sir john hawkins ascribes it to dr. kenrick[ ]; but its authour was one campbell, a scotch purser in the navy. the ridicule consisted in applying johnson's 'words of large meaning[ ]' to insignificant matters, as if one should put the armour of goliath upon a dwarf. the contrast might be laughable; but the dignity of the armour must remain the same in all considerate minds. this malicious drollery, therefore, it may easily be supposed, could do no harm to its illustrious object[ ]. 'to bennet langton, esq., at mr. rothwell's, perfumer, in new bond-street, london. 'dear sir, 'that you have been all summer in london, is one more reason for which i regret my long stay in the country. i hope that you will not leave the town before my return. we have here only the chance of vacancies in the passing carriages, and i have bespoken one that may, if it happens, bring me to town on the fourteenth of this month; but this is not certain. 'it will be a favour if you communicate this to mrs. williams: i long to see all my friends. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'lichfield, oct. , .' : aetat. .--it appears from his notes of the state of his mind[ ], that he suffered great perturbation and distraction in . nothing of his writing was given to the publick this year, except the prologue[*] to his friend goldsmith's comedy of _the good-natured man_[ ]. the first lines of this prologue are strongly characteristical of the dismal gloom of his mind; which in his case, as in the case of all who are distressed with the same malady of imagination, transfers to others its own feelings. who could suppose it was to introduce a comedy, when mr. bensley solemnly began, 'press'd with[ ] the load of life, the weary mind surveys the general toil of human kind.' but this dark ground might make goldsmith's humour shine the more. in the spring of this year, having published my _account of corsica_, with the _journal of a tour to that island_[ ], i returned to london [ ], very desirous to see dr. johnson, and hear him upon the subject. i found he was at oxford, with his friend mr. chambers[ ], who was now vinerian professor, and lived in new inn hall. having had no letter from him since that in which he criticised the latinity of my thesis, and having been told by somebody that he was offended at my having put into my book an extract of his letter to me at paris[ ], i was impatient to be with him, and therefore followed him to oxford, where i was entertained by mr. chambers, with a civility which i shall ever gratefully remember. i found that dr. johnson had sent a letter to me to scotland, and that i had nothing to complain of but his being more indifferent to my anxiety than i wished him to be. instead of giving, with the circumstances of time and place, such fragments of his conversation as i preserved during this visit to oxford, i shall throw them together in continuation[ ]. i asked him whether, as a moralist, he did not think that the practice of the law, in some degree, hurt the nice feeling of honesty. johnson. 'why no, sir, if you act properly. you are not to deceive your clients with false representations of your opinion: you are not to tell lies to a judge.' boswell. 'but what do you think of supporting a cause which you know to be bad?' johnson. 'sir, you do not know it to be good or bad till the judge determines it. i have said that you are to state facts fairly; so that your thinking, or what you call knowing, a cause to be bad, must be from reasoning, must be from your supposing your arguments to be weak and inconclusive. but, sir, that is not enough. an argument which does not convince yourself, may convince the judge to whom you urge it: and if it does convince him, why, then, sir, you are wrong, and he is right. it is his business to judge; and you are not to be confident in your own opinion that a cause is bad, but to say all you can for your client, and then hear the judge's opinion.' boswell. 'but, sir, does not affecting a warmth when you have no warmth, and appearing to be clearly of one opinion when you are in reality of another opinion, does not such dissimulation impair one's honesty? is there not some danger that a lawyer may put on the same mask in common life, in the intercourse with his friends?' johnson. 'why no, sir. everybody knows you are paid for affecting warmth for your client; and it is, therefore, properly no dissimulation: the moment you come from the bar you resume your usual behaviour. sir, a man will no more carry the artifice of the bar into the common intercourse of society, than a man who is paid for tumbling upon his hands will continue to tumble upon his hands when he should walk on his feet[ ].' talking of some of the modern plays, he said _false delicacy_ was totally void of character[ ]. he praised goldsmith's _good-natured man_; said, it was the best comedy that had appeared since _the provoked husband_[ ], and that there had not been of late any such character exhibited on the stage as that of croaker. i observed it was the suspirius of his rambler. he said, goldsmith had owned he had borrowed it from thence[ ]. 'sir, (continued he,) there is all the difference in the world between characters of nature and characters of manners; and _there_ is the difference between the characters of fielding and those of richardson. characters of manners are very entertaining; but they are to be understood, by a more superficial observer, than characters of nature, where a man must dive into the recesses of the human heart.' it always appeared to me that he estimated the compositions of richardson too highly, and that he had an unreasonable prejudice against fielding[ ]. in comparing those two writers, he used this expression: 'that there was as great a difference between them as between a man who knew how a watch was made, and a man who could tell the hour by looking on the dial-plate[ ].' this was a short and figurative state of his distinction between drawing characters of nature and characters only of manners. but i cannot help being of opinion, that the neat watches of fielding are as well constructed as the large clocks of richardson, and that his dial-plates are brighter. fielding's characters, though they do not expand themselves so widely in dissertation, are as just pictures of human nature, and i will venture to say, have more striking features, and nicer touches of the pencil; and though johnson used to quote with approbation a saying of richardson's, 'that the virtues of fielding's heroes were the vices of a truly good man,' i will venture to add, that the moral tendency of fielding's writings, though it does not encourage a strained and rarely possible virtue, is ever favourable to honour and honesty, and cherishes the benevolent and generous affections. he who is as good as fielding would make him, is an amiable member of society, and may be led on by more regulated instructors, to a higher state of ethical perfection. johnson proceeded: 'even sir francis wronghead is a character of manners, though drawn with great humour.' he then repeated, very happily, all sir francis's credulous account to manly of his being with 'the great man,' and securing a place[ ]. i asked him, if _the suspicious husband_[ ] did not furnish a well-drawn character, that of ranger. johnson. 'no, sir; ranger is just a rake, a mere rake[ ], and a lively young fellow, but no _character_'. the great douglas cause[ ] was at this time a very general subject of discussion. i found he had not studied it with much attention, but had only heard parts of it occasionally. he, however, talked of it, and said, 'i am of opinion that positive proof of fraud should not be required of the plaintiff, but that the judges should decide according as probability shall appear to preponderate, granting to the defendant the presumption of filiation to be strong in his favour. and i think too, that a good deal of weight should be allowed to the dying declarations, because they were spontaneous. there is a great difference between what is said without our being urged to it, and what is said from a kind of compulsion. if i praise a man's book without being asked my opinion of it, that is honest praise, to which one may trust. but if an authour asks me if i like his book, and i give him something like praise, it must not be taken as my real opinion.' 'i have not been troubled for a long time with authours desiring my opinion of their works[ ]. i used once to be sadly plagued with a man who wrote verses, but who literally had no other notion of a verse, but that it consisted of ten syllables. _lay your knife and your fork, across your plate_, was to him a verse: 'lay your knife and your fork, across your plate. 'as he wrote a great number of verses, he sometimes by chance made good ones, though he did not know it.' he renewed his promise of coming to scotland, and going with me to the hebrides, but said he would now content himself with seeing one or two of the most curious of them. he said, 'macaulay[ ], who writes the account of st. kilda, set out with a prejudice against prejudices, and wanted to be a smart modern thinker; and yet he affirms for a truth, that when a ship arrives there, all the inhabitants are seized with a cold[ ].' dr. john campbell[ ], the celebrated writer, took a great deal of pains to ascertain this fact, and attempted to account for it on physical principles, from the effect of effluvia from human bodies. johnson, at another time[ ], praised macaulay for his '_magnanimity_' in asserting this wonderful story, because it was well attested. a lady of norfolk, by a letter to my friend dr. burney, has favoured me with the following solution: 'now for the explication of this seeming mystery, which is so very obvious as, for that reason, to have escaped the penetration of dr. johnson and his friend, as well as that of the authour. reading the book with my ingenious friend, the late reverend mr. christian, of docking-- after ruminating a little, "the cause, (says he,) is a natural one. the situation of st. kilda renders a north-east wind indispensably necessary before a stranger can land[ ]. the wind, not the stranger, occasions an epidemic cold." if i am not mistaken, mr. macaulay is dead; if living, this solution might please him, as i hope it will mr. boswell, in return for the many agreeable hours his works have afforded us.' johnson expatiated on the advantages of oxford for learning[ ]. 'there is here, sir, (said he,) such a progressive emulation. the students are anxious to appear well to their tutors; the tutors are anxious to have their pupils appear well in the college; the colleges are anxious to have their students appear well in the university; and there are excellent rules of discipline in every college. that the rules are sometimes ill observed, may be true; but is nothing against the system. the members of an university may, for a season, be unmindful of their duty. i am arguing for the excellency of the institution[ ].' of guthrie[ ], he said, 'sir, he is a man of parts. he has no great regular fund of knowledge; but by reading so long, and writing so long, he no doubt has picked up a good deal.' he said he had lately been a long while at lichfield, but had grown very weary before he left it. boswell. 'i wonder at that, sir; it is your native place.' johnson. 'why, so is scotland _your_ native place.' his prejudice against scotland appeared remarkably strong at this time. when i talked of our advancement in literature[ ], 'sir, (said he,) you have learnt a little from us, and you think yourselves very great men. hume would never have written history, had not voltaire written it before him[ ]. he is an echo of voltaire.' boswell. 'but, sir, we have lord kames[ ].' johnson. 'you _have_ lord kames. keep him; ha, ha, ha! we don't envy you him. do you ever see dr. robertson?' boswell. 'yes, sir.' johnson. 'does the dog talk of me?' boswell. 'indeed, sir, he does, and loves you.' thinking that i now had him in a corner, and being solicitous for the literary fame of my country, i pressed him for his opinion on the merit of dr. robertson's _history of scotland_. but, to my surprize, he escaped.--'sir, i love robertson, and i won't talk of his book[ ].' it is but justice both to him and dr. robertson to add, that though he indulged himself in this sally of wit, he had too good taste not to be fully sensible of the merits of that admirable work. an essay, written by mr. deane, a divine of the church of england, maintaining the future life of brutes, by an explication of certain parts of the scriptures[ ], was mentioned, and the doctrine insisted on by a gentleman who seemed fond of curious speculation. johnson, who did not like to hear of any thing concerning a future state which was not authorised by the regular canons of orthodoxy, discouraged this talk; and being offended at its continuation, he watched an opportunity to give the gentleman a blow of reprehension. so, when the poor speculatist, with a serious metaphysical pensive face, addressed him, 'but really, sir, when we see a very sensible dog, we don't know what to think of him;' johnson, rolling with joy at the thought which beamed in his eye, turned quickly round, and replied, 'true, sir: and when we see a very foolish _fellow_, we don't know what to think of _him_.' he then rose up, strided to the fire, and stood for some time laughing and exulting. i told him that i had several times, when in italy, seen the experiment of placing a scorpion within a circle of burning coals; that it ran round and round in extreme pain; and finding no way to escape, retired to the centre, and like a true stoick philosopher, darted its sting into its head, and thus at once freed itself from its woes. 'this must end 'em[ ].' i said, this was a curious fact, as it shewed deliberate suicide in a reptile. johnson would not admit the fact. he said, maupertuis[ ] was of opinion that it does not kill itself, but dies of the heat; that it gets to the centre of the circle, as the coolest place; that its turning its tail in upon its head is merely a convulsion, and that it does not sting itself. he said he would be satisfied if the great anatomist morgagni, after dissecting a scorpion on which the experiment had been tried, should certify that its sting had penetrated into its head. he seemed pleased to talk of natural philosophy. 'that woodcocks, (said he,) fly over to the northern countries is proved, because they have been observed at sea. swallows certainly sleep all the winter. a number of them conglobulate together[ ], by flying round and round, and then all in a heap throw themselves under water, and lye in the bed of a river[ ].' he told us, one of his first essays was a latin poem upon the glow-worm. i am sorry i did not ask where it was to be found. talking of the russians and the chinese, he advised me to read bell's travels[ ]. i asked him whether i should read du halde's account of china[ ]. 'why yes, (said he) as one reads such a book; that is to say, consult it.' he talked of the heinousness of the crime of adultery, by which the peace of families was destroyed. he said, 'confusion of progeny constitutes the essence of the crime; and therefore a woman who breaks her marriage vows is much more criminal than a man who does it.[ ] a man, to be sure, is criminal in the sight of god: but he does not do his wife a very material injury, if he does not insult her; if, for instance, from mere wantonness of appetite, he steals privately to her chambermaid. sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. i would not receive home a daughter who had run away from her husband on that account. a wife should study to reclaim her husband by more attention to please him. sir, a man will not, once in a hundred instances, leave his wife and go to a harlot, if his wife has not been negligent of pleasing.' here he discovered that acute discrimination, that solid judgement, and that knowledge of human nature, for which he was upon all occasions remarkable. taking care to keep in view then moral and religious duty, as understood in our nation, he shewed clearly from reason and good sense, the greater degree of culpability in the one sex deviating from it than the other; and, at the same time, inculcated a very useful lesson as to _the way to keep him_. i asked him if it was not hard that one deviation from chastity should so absolutely ruin a young woman. johnson. 'why, no, sir; it is the great principle which she is taught. when she has given up that principle, she has given up every notion of female honour and virtue, which are all included in chastity.' a gentleman[ ] talked to him of a lady whom he greatly admired and wished to marry, but was afraid of her superiority of talents. 'sir, (said he) you need not be afraid; marry her. before a year goes about, you'll find that reason much weaker, and that wit not so bright.' yet the gentleman may be justified in his apprehension by one of dr. johnson's admirable sentences in his life of waller: 'he doubtless praised many[ ] whom he would have been afraid to marry; and, perhaps, married one whom he would have been ashamed to praise. many qualities contribute to domestic happiness, upon which poetry has no colours to bestow; and many airs and sallies may delight imagination, which he who flatters them never can approve.' he praised signor baretti. 'his account of italy is a very entertaining book[ ]; and, sir, i know no man who carries his head higher in conversation than baretti[ ]. there are strong powers in his mind. he has not, indeed, many hooks; but with what hooks he has, he grapples very forcibly.' at this time i observed upon the dial-plate of his watch[ ] a short greek inscription, taken from the new testament, _nux gar erchetai_[ ], being the first words of our saviour's solemn admonition to the improvement of that time which is allowed us to prepare for eternity: 'the night cometh, when no man can work.' he sometime afterwards laid aside this dial-plate; and when i asked him the reason, he said, 'it might do very well upon a clock which a man keeps in his closet; but to have it upon his watch which he carries about with him, and which is often looked at by others, might be censured as ostentatious.' mr. steevens is now possessed of the dial-plate inscribed as above. he remained at oxford a considerable time[ ]; i was obliged to go to london, where i received his letter, which had been returned from scotland. 'to james boswell, esq. 'my dear boswell, 'i have omitted a long time to write to you, without knowing very well why. i could now tell why i should not write; for who would write to men who publish the letters of their friends, without their leave[ ]? yet i write to you in spite of my caution, to tell you that i shall be glad to see you, and that i wish you would empty your head of corsica, which i think has filled it rather too long. but, at all events, i shall be glad, very glad to see you. 'i am, sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'oxford, march , .' i answered thus: 'to mr. samuel johnson. 'london, th april, [ ]. 'my dear sir, 'i have received your last letter, which, though very short, and by no means complimentary, yet gave me real pleasure, because it contains these words, "i shall be glad, very glad to see you." surely you have no reason to complain of my publishing a single paragraph of one of your letters; the temptation to it was so strong. an irrevocable grant of your friendship, and your dignifying my desire of visiting corsica with the epithet of "a wise and noble curiosity," are to me more valuable than many of the grants of kings. 'but how can you bid me "empty my head of corsica[ ]?" my noble-minded friend, do you not feel for an oppressed nation bravely struggling to be free? consider fairly what is the case. the corsicans never received any kindness from the genoese[ ]. they never agreed to be subject to them. they owe them nothing; and when reduced to an abject state of slavery, by force, shall they not rise in the great cause of liberty, and break the galling yoke? and shall not every liberal soul be warm for them? empty my head of corsica! empty it of honour, empty it of humanity, empty it of friendship, empty it of piety. no! while i live, corsica and the cause of the brave islanders shall ever employ much of my attention, shall ever interest me in the sincerest manner. 'i am, &c. 'james boswell.' upon his arrival in london in may, he surprized me one morning with a visit at my lodgings in half-moon-street[ ], was quite satisfied with my explanation, and was in the kindest and most agreeable frame of mind. as he had objected to a part of one of his letters being published, i thought it right to take this opportunity of asking him explicitly whether it would be improper to publish his letters after his death. his answer was, 'nay, sir, when i am dead, you may do as you will[ ].' he talked in his usual style with a rough contempt of popular liberty[ ]. 'they make a rout about _universal_ liberty, without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is _private_ liberty. political liberty is good only so far as it produces private liberty. now, sir, there is the liberty of the press, which you know is a constant topick[ ]. suppose you and i and two hundred more were restrained from printing our thoughts: what then? what proportion would that restraint upon us bear to the private happiness of the nation[ ]?' this mode of representing the inconveniences of restraint as light and insignificant, was a kind of sophistry in which he delighted to indulge himself, in opposition to the extreme laxity for which it has been fashionable for too many to argue, when it is evident, upon reflection, that the very essence of government is restraint; and certain it is, that as government produces rational happiness, too much restraint is better than too little. but when restraint is unnecessary, and so close as to gall those who are subject to it, the people may and ought to remonstrate; and, if relief is not granted, to resist. of this manly and spirited principle, no man was more convinced than johnson himself[ ]. about this time dr. kenrick[ ] attacked him, through my sides, in a pamphlet, entitled _an epistle to james boswell, esq., occasioned by his having transmitted the moral writings of dr. samuel johnson to pascal paoli, general of the corsicans_[ ]. i was at first inclined to answer this pamphlet; but johnson, who knew that my doing so would only gratify kenrick, by keeping alive what would soon die away of itself, would not suffer me to take any notice of it[ ]. his sincere regard for francis barber, his faithful negro servant, made him so desirous of his further improvement, that he now placed him at a school at bishop stortford, in hertfordshire. this humane attention does johnson's heart much honour. out of many letters which mr. barber received from his master, he has preserved three, which he kindly gave me, and which i shall insert according to their dates. 'to mr. francis barber. 'dear francis, 'i have been very much out of order. i am glad to hear that you are well, and design to come soon to see you. i would have you stay at mrs. clapp's for the present, till i can determine what we shall do. be a good boy[ ]. 'my compliments to mrs. clapp and to mr. fowler. i am, 'your's affectionately, 'sam. johnson'. 'may , .' soon afterwards, he supped at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, with a company whom i collected to meet him. they were dr. percy, now bishop of dromore, dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury, mr. langton, dr. robertson the historian[ ], dr. hugh blair, and mr. thomas davies, who wished much to be introduced to these eminent scotch _literati_; but on the present occasion he had very little opportunity of hearing them talk, for with an excess of prudence, for which johnson afterwards found fault with them, they hardly opened their lips, and that only to say something which they were certain would not expose them to the sword of goliath; such was their anxiety for their fame when in the presence of johnson[ ]. he was this evening in remarkable vigour of mind, and eager to exert himself in conversation, which he did with great readiness and fluency; but i am sorry to find that i have preserved but a small part of what passed. he allowed high praise to thomson as a poet[ ]; but when one of the company said he was also a very good man, our moralist contested this with great warmth, accusing him of gross sensuality and licentiousness of manners. i was very much afraid that in writing thomson's _life_, dr. johnson would have treated his private character with a stern severity, but i was agreeably disappointed; and i may claim a little merit in it, from my having been at pains to send him authentick accounts of the affectionate and generous conduct of that poet to his sisters, one of whom, the wife of mr. thomson, schoolmaster at lanark, i knew, and was presented by her with three of his letters, one of which dr. johnson has inserted in his _life_[ ]. he was vehement against old dr. mounsey, of chelsea college[ ], as 'a fellow who swore and talked bawdy.' 'i have been often in his company, (said dr. percy,) and never heard him swear or talk bawdy.' mr. davies, who sat next to dr. percy, having after this had some conversation aside with him, made a discovery which, in his zeal to pay court to dr. johnson, he eagerly proclaimed aloud from the foot of the table: 'o, sir, i have found out a very good reason why dr. percy never heard mounsey swear or talk bawdy; for he tells me, he never saw him but at the duke of northumberland's table.' 'and so, sir, (said johnson loudly, to dr. percy,) you would shield this man from the charge of swearing and talking bawdy, because he did not do so at the duke of northumberland's table. sir, you might as well tell us that you had seen him hold up his hand at the old bailey, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy; or that you had seen him in the cart at tyburn, and he neither swore nor talked bawdy. and is it thus, sir, that you presume to controvert what i have related?' dr. johnson's animadversion was uttered in such a manner, that dr. percy seemed to be displeased, and soon afterwards left the company, of which johnson did not at that time take any notice. swift having been mentioned, johnson, as usual, treated him with little respect as an authour[ ]. some of us endeavoured to support the dean of st. patrick's by various arguments. one in particular praised his _conduct of the allies_. johnson. 'sir, his _conduct of the allies_ is a performance of very little ability.' 'surely, sir, (said dr. douglas,) you must allow it has strong facts[ ].' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but what is that to the merit of the composition? in the sessions-paper of the old bailey there are strong facts. housebreaking is a strong fact; robbery is a strong fact; and murder is a _mighty_ strong fact; but is great praise due to the historian of those strong facts? no, sir. swift has told what he had to tell distinctly enough, but that is all. he had to count ten, and he has counted it right[ ].' then recollecting that mr. davies, by acting as an _informer_, had been the occasion of his talking somewhat too harshly to his friend[ ] dr. percy, for which, probably, when the first ebullition was over, he felt some compunction, he took an opportunity to give him a hit; so added, with a preparatory laugh, 'why, sir, tom davies might have written _the conduct of the allies_.' poor tom being thus suddenly dragged into ludicrous notice in presence of the scottish doctors, to whom he was ambitious of appearing to advantage, was grievously mortified. nor did his punishment rest here; for upon subsequent occasions, whenever he, 'statesman all over[ ],' assumed a strutting importance, i used to hail him--'the authour of _the conduct of the allies_.' when i called upon dr. johnson next morning, i found him highly satisfied with his colloquial prowess the preceding evening. 'well, (said he,) we had good talk[ ].' boswell. 'yes, sir; you tossed and gored several persons[ ].' the late alexander, earl of eglintoune[ ], who loved wit more than wine, and men of genius more than sycophants, had a great admiration of johnson; but from the remarkable elegance of his own manners, was, perhaps, too delicately sensible of the roughness which sometimes appeared in johnson's behaviour. one evening about this time, when his lordship did me the honour to sup at my lodgings with dr. robertson and several other men of literary distinction, he regretted that johnson had not been educated with more refinement, and lived more in polished society. 'no, no, my lord, (said signor baretti,) do with him what you would, he would always have been a bear.' 'true, (answered the earl, with a smile,) but he would have been a _dancing_ bear.' to obviate all the reflections which have gone round the world to johnson's prejudice, by applying to him the epithet of a _bear_[ ], let me impress upon my readers a just and happy saying of my friend goldsmith, who knew him well: 'johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. _he has nothing of the bear but his skin_.' : aetat. .--in , so far as i can discover, the publick was favoured with nothing of johnson's composition, either for himself or any of his friends[ ]. his _meditations_[ ] too strongly prove that he suffered much both in body and mind; yet was he perpetually striving against _evil_, and nobly endeavouring to advance his intellectual and devotional improvement. every generous and grateful heart must feel for the distresses of so eminent a benefactor to mankind; and now that his unhappiness is certainly known, must respect that dignity of character which prevented him from complaining. his majesty having the preceding year instituted the royal academy of arts in london, johnson had now the honour of being appointed professor in ancient literature[ ]. in the course of the year he wrote some letters to mrs. thrale, passed some part of the summer at oxford and at lichfield, and when at oxford wrote the following letter: 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'many years ago, when i used to read in the library of your college, i promised to recompence the college for that permission, by adding to their books a baskerville's _virgil_. i have now sent it, and desire you to reposit it on the shelves in my name[ ]. 'if you will be pleased to let me know when you have an hour of leisure, i will drink tea with you. i am engaged for the afternoon, to-morrow and on friday: all my mornings are my own[ ]. 'i am, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' i came to london in the autumn, and having informed him that i was going to be married in a few months, i wished to have as much of his conversation as i could before engaging in a state of life which would probably keep me more in scotland, and prevent me seeing him so often as when i was a single man; but i found he was at brighthelmstone with mr. and mrs. thrale. i was very sorry that i had not his company with me at the jubilee, in honour of shakspeare, at stratford-upon-avon, the great poet's native town[ ]. johnson's connection both with shakspeare and garrick founded a double claim to his presence; and it would have been highly gratifying to mr. garrick. upon this occasion i particularly lamented that he had not that warmth of friendship for his brilliant pupil, which we may suppose would have had a benignant effect on both[ ]. when almost every man of eminence in the literary world was happy to partake in this festival of genius, the absence of johnson could not but be wondered at and regretted. the only trace of him there, was in the whimsical advertisement of a haberdasher, who sold _shakspearian ribbands_ of various dyes; and, by way of illustrating their appropriation to the bard, introduced a line from the celebrated prologue[ ] at the opening of drury-lane theatre: 'each change of many-colour'd life he drew.' from brighthelmstone dr. johnson wrote me the following letter, which they who may think that i ought to have suppressed, must have less ardent feelings than i have always avowed[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'why do you charge me with unkindness? i have omitted nothing that could do you good, or give you pleasure, unless it be that i have forborne to tell you my opinion of your _account of corsica_. i believe my opinion, if you think well of my judgement, might have given you pleasure; but when it is considered how much vanity is excited by praise, i am not sure that it would have done you good. your history is like other histories, but your journal is in a very high degree curious and delightful. there is between the history and the journal that difference which there will always be found between notions borrowed from without, and notions generated within. your history was copied from books; your journal rose out of your own experience and observation. you express images which operated strongly upon yourself, and you have impressed them with great force upon your readers. i know not whether i could name any narrative by which curiosity is better excited, or better gratified. 'i am glad that you are going to be married; and as i wish you well in things of less importance, wish you well with proportionate ardour in this crisis of your life. what i can contribute to your happiness, i should be very unwilling to with-hold; for i have always loved and valued you, and shall love you and value you still more, as you become more regular and useful: effects which a happy marriage will hardly fail to produce. 'i do not find that i am likely to come back very soon from this place. i shall, perhaps, stay a fortnight longer; and a fortnight is a long time to a lover absent from his mistress. would a fortnight ever have an end? 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'brighthelmstone, sept. , .' after his return to town, we met frequently, and i continued the practice of making notes of his conversation, though not with so much assiduity as i wish i had done. at this time, indeed, i had a sufficient excuse for not being able to appropriate so much time to my journal; for general paoli[ ], after corsica had been overpowered by the monarchy of france, was now no longer at the head of his brave countrymen, but having with difficulty escaped from his native island, had sought an asylum in great britain; and it was my duty, as well as my pleasure, to attend much upon him[ ]. such particulars of johnson's conversation at this period as i have committed to writing, i shall here introduce, without any strict attention to methodical arrangement. sometimes short notes of different days shall be blended together, and sometimes a day may seem important enough to be separately distinguished. he said, he would not have sunday kept with rigid severity and gloom, but with a gravity and simplicity of behaviour[ ]. i told him that david hume had made a short collection of scotticisms[ ]. 'i wonder, (said johnson,) that _he_ should find them.' he would not admit the importance of the question concerning the legality of general warrants[ ]. 'such a power' (he observed,) 'must be vested in every government, to answer particular cases of necessity; and there can be no just complaint but when it is abused, for which those who administer government must be answerable. it is a matter of such indifference, a matter about which the people care so very little, that were a man to be sent over britain to offer them an exemption from it at a halfpenny a piece, very few would purchase it.' this was a specimen of that laxity of talking, which i have heard him fairly acknowledge[ ]; for, surely, while the power of granting general warrants was supposed to be legal, and the apprehension of them hung over our heads, we did not possess that security of freedom, congenial to our happy constitution, and which, by the intrepid exertions of mr. wilkes, has been happily established. he said, 'the duration of parliament, whether for seven years or the life of the king, appears to me so immaterial, that i would not give half a crown to turn the scale one way or the other[ ]. the _habeas corpus_ is the single advantage which our government has over that of other countries.' on the th of september we dined together at the mitre. i attempted to argue for the superior happiness of the savage life, upon the usual fanciful topicks. johnson. 'sir, there can be nothing more false. the savages have no bodily advantages beyond those of civilised men. they have not better health; and as to care or mental uneasiness, they are not above it, but below it, like bears. no, sir; you are not to talk such paradox[ ]: let me have no more on't. it cannot entertain, far less can it instruct. lord monboddo[ ], one of your scotch judges, talked a great deal of such nonsense. i suffered _him_; but i will not suffer _you_.' boswell. 'but, sir, does not rousseau talk such nonsense?' johnson. 'true, sir, but rousseau _knows_ he is talking nonsense, and laughs at the world for staring at him.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, a man who talks nonsense so well, must know that he is talking nonsense. but i am _afraid_, (chuckling and laughing,) monboddo does _not_ know that he is talking nonsense[ ].' boswell. 'is it wrong then, sir, to affect singularity, in order to make people stare?' johnson. 'yes, if you do it by propagating errour: and, indeed, it is wrong in any way. there is in human nature a general inclination to make people stare; and every wise man has himself to cure of it, and does cure himself[ ]. if you wish to make people stare by doing better than others, why, make them stare till they stare their eyes out. but consider how easy it is to make people stare by being absurd. i may do it by going into a drawing-room without my shoes. you remember the gentleman in _the spectator_, who had a commission of lunacy taken out against him for his extreme singularity, such as never wearing a wig, but a night-cap. now, sir, abstractedly, the night-cap was best; but, relatively, the advantage was overbalanced by his making the boys run after him[ ].' talking of a london life, he said, 'the happiness of london is not to be conceived but by those who have been in it. i will venture to say, there is more learning and science within the circumference of ten miles from where we now sit, than in all the rest of the kingdom.' boswell. 'the only disadvantage is the great distance at which people live from one another.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but that is occasioned by the largeness of it, which is the cause of all the other advantages.' boswell. 'sometimes i have been in the humour of wishing to retire to a desart.' johnson. 'sir, you have desart enough in scotland.' although i had promised myself a great deal of instructive conversation with him on the conduct of the married state, of which i had then a near prospect, he did not say much upon that topick. mr. seward[ ] heard him once say, that 'a man has a very bad chance for happiness in that state, unless he marries a woman of very strong and fixed principles of religion.' he maintained to me, contrary to the common notion, that a woman would not be the worse wife for being learned[ ]; in which, from all that i have observed of artemisias[ ], i humbly differed from him. that a woman should be sensible and well informed, i allow to be a great advantage; and think that sir thomas overbury[ ], in his rude versification, has very judiciously pointed out that degree of intelligence which is to be desired in a female companion: 'give me, next _good_, an _understanding wife_, by nature _wise_, not _learned_ by much art; some _knowledge_ on her side will all my life more scope of conversation impart; besides, her inborne virtue fortifie; they are most firmly good, who[ ] best know why.' when i censured a gentleman of my acquaintance for marrying a second time, as it shewed a disregard of his first wife, he said, 'not at all, sir. on the contrary, were he not to marry again, it might be concluded that his first wife had given him a disgust to marriage; but by taking a second wife he pays the highest compliment to the first, by shewing that she made him so happy as a married man, that he wishes to be so a second time[ ].' so ingenious a turn did he give to this delicate question. and yet, on another occasion, he owned that he once had almost asked a promise of mrs. johnson that she would not marry again, but had checked himself. indeed, i cannot help thinking, that in his case the request would have been unreasonable; for if mrs. johnson forgot, or thought it no injury to the memory of her first love,--the husband of her youth and the father of her children,--to make a second marriage, why should she be precluded from a third, should she be so inclined? in johnson's persevering fond appropriation of his _tetty_, even after her decease, he seems totally to have overlooked the prior claim of the honest birmingham trader. i presume that her having been married before had, at times, given him some uneasiness; for i remember his observing upon the marriage of one of our common friends, 'he has done a very foolish thing, sir; he has married a widow, when he might have had a maid[ ].' we drank tea with mrs. williams. i had last year the pleasure of seeing mrs. thrale at dr. johnson's one morning, and had conversation enough with her to admire her talents, and to shew her that i was as johnsonian as herself. dr. johnson had probably been kind enough to speak well of me, for this evening he delivered me a very polite card from mr. thrale and her, inviting me to streatham. on the th of october i complied with this obliging invitation, and found, at an elegant villa, six miles from town, every circumstance that can make society pleasing. johnson, though quite at home, was yet looked up to with an awe, tempered by affection, and seemed to be equally the care of his host and hostess. i rejoiced at seeing him so happy. he played off his wit against scotland with a good humoured pleasantry, which gave me, though no bigot to national prejudices, an opportunity for a little contest with him. i having said that england was obliged to us for gardeners, almost all their good gardeners being scotchmen. johnson. 'why, sir, that is because gardening is much more necessary amongst you than with us, which makes so many of your people learn it. it is _all_ gardening with you. things which grow wild here, must be cultivated with great care in scotland. pray now (throwing himself back in his chair, and laughing,) are you ever able to bring the _sloe_ to perfection?' i boasted that we had the honour of being the first to abolish the unhospitable, troublesome, and ungracious custom of giving vails to servants[ ]. johnson. 'sir, you abolished vails, because you were too poor to be able to give them.' mrs. thrale disputed with him on the merit of prior. he attacked him powerfully; said he wrote of love like a man who had never felt it: his love verses were college verses; and he repeated the song 'alexis shunn'd his fellow swains[ ],' &c., in so ludicrous a manner, as to make us all wonder how any one could have been pleased with such fantastical stuff. mrs. thrale stood to her gun with great courage, in defence of amorous ditties, which johnson despised, till he at last silenced her by saying, 'my dear lady, talk no more of this. nonsense can be defended but by nonsense[ ].' mrs. thrale then praised garrick's talent for light gay poetry; and, as a specimen, repeated his song in _florizel and perdita_, and dwelt with peculiar pleasure on this line: 'i'd smile with the simple, and feed with the poor[ ].' johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, this will never do. poor david! smile with the simple;--what folly is that? and who would feed with the poor that can help it? no, no; let me smile with the wise, and feed with the rich.' i repeated this sally to garrick, and wondered to find his sensibility as a writer not a little irritated by it. to sooth him, i observed, that johnson spared none of us; and i quoted the passage in horace[ ], in which he compares one who attacks his friends for the sake of a laugh, to a pushing ox[ ], that is marked by a bunch of hay put upon his horns: '_fænum habet in cornu_.' 'ay, (said garrick vehemently,) he has a whole _mow_ of it.' talking of history, johnson said, 'we may know historical facts to be true, as we may know facts in common life to be true. motives are generally unknown. we cannot trust to the characters we find in history, unless when they are drawn by those who knew the persons; as those, for instance, by sallust and by lord clarendon[ ].' he would not allow much merit to whitefield's oratory. 'his popularity, sir (said he,) is chiefly owing to the peculiarity of his manner. he would be followed by crowds were he to wear a night-cap in the pulpit, or were he to preach from a tree[ ].' i know not from what spirit of contradiction he burst out into a violent declamation against the corsicans, of whose heroism i talked in high terms. 'sir (said he,) what is all this rout about the corsicans? they have been at war with the genoese for upwards of twenty years, and have never yet taken their fortified towns. they might have battered down their walls, and reduced them to powder in twenty years. they might have pulled the walls in pieces, and cracked the stones with their teeth in twenty years.' it was in vain to argue with him upon the want of artillery: he was not to be resisted for the moment. on the evening of october , i presented dr. johnson to general paoli. i had greatly wished that two men, for whom i had the highest esteem, should meet[ ]. they met with a manly ease, mutually conscious of their own abilities, and of the abilities of each other. the general spoke italian, and dr. johnson english, and understood one another very well, with a little aid of interpretation from me, in which i compared myself to an isthmus which joins two great continents. upon johnson's approach, the general said, 'from what i have read of your works, sir, and from what mr. boswell has told me of you, i have long held you in great veneration.' the general talked of languages being formed on the particular notions and manners of a people, without knowing which, we cannot know the language. we may know the direct signification of single words; but by these no beauty of expression, no sally of genius, no wit is conveyed to the mind. all this must be by allusion to other ideas. 'sir, (said johnson,) you talk of language, as if you had never done any thing else but study it, instead of governing a nation.' the general said, '_questo e un troppo gran complimento_;' this is too great a compliment. johnson answered. 'i should have thought so, sir, if i had not heard you talk.' the general asked him, what he thought of the spirit of infidelity which was so prevalent[ ]. johnson. 'sir, this gloom of infidelity, i hope, is only a transient cloud passing through the hemisphere[ ], which will soon be dissipated, and the sun break forth with his usual splendour.' 'you think then, (said the general,) that they will change their principles like their clothes.' johnson. 'why, sir, if they bestow no more thought on principles than on dress, it must be so.' the general said, that 'a great part of the fashionable infidelity was owing to a desire of shewing courage. men who have no opportunities of shewing it as to things in this life, take death and futurity as objects on which to display it.' johnson. 'that is mighty foolish affectation. fear is one of the passions of human nature, of which it is impossible to divest it. you remember that the emperour charles v, when he read upon the tomb-stone of a spanish nobleman, "here lies one who never knew fear," wittily said, "then he never snuffed a candle with his fingers."' he talked a few words of french[ ] to the general; but finding he did not do it with facility, he asked for pen, ink, and paper, and wrote the following note:-- 'j'ai lu dans la geographie de lucas de linda un pater-noster écrit dans une langue tout à-fait differente de l'italienne, et de toutes autres lesquelles se derivent du latin. l'auteur l'appelle _linguam corsicae rusticam_; elle a peut-etre passé peu à peu; mais elle a certainement prevalue autrefois dans les montagnes et dans la campagne. le méme auteur dit la méme chose en parlant de sardaigne; qu'il y a deux langues dans l'isle, une des villes, l'autre de la campagne.' the general immediately informed him that the _lingua rustica_ was only in sardinia. dr. johnson went home with me, and drank tea till late in the night. he said, 'general paoli had the loftiest port of any man he had ever seen[ ].' he denied that military men were always the best bred men. 'perfect good breeding, he observed, consists in having no particular mark of any profession, but a general elegance of manners; whereas, in a military man, you can commonly distinguish the _brand_ of a soldier, _l'homme d'épée_.' dr. johnson shunned to-night any discussion of the perplexed question of fate and free will, which i attempted to agitate. 'sir, (said he,) we _know_ our will is free, and _there's_ an end on't[ ].' he honoured me with his company at dinner on the th of october, at my lodgings in old bond-street, with sir joshua reynolds, mr. garrick, dr. goldsmith, mr. murphy, mr. bickerstaff[ ], and mr. thomas davies. garrick played round him with a fond vivacity, taking hold of the breasts of his coat, and, looking up in his face with a lively archness, complimented him on the good health which he seemed then to enjoy; while the sage, shaking his head, beheld him with a gentle complacency. one of the company not being come at the appointed hour, i proposed, as usual upon such occasions, to order dinner to be served; adding, 'ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'why, yes, (answered johnson, with a delicate humanity,) if the one will suffer more by your sitting down, than the six will do by waiting.' goldsmith, to divert the tedious minutes, strutted about, bragging of his dress, and i believe was seriously vain of it, for his mind was wonderfully prone to such impressions[ ]. 'come, come, (said garrick,) talk no more of that. you are, perhaps, the worst--eh, eh!'--goldsmith was eagerly attempting to interrupt him, when garrick went on, laughing ironically, 'nay, you will always _look_ like a gentleman[ ]; but i am talking of being well or _ill drest_.' 'well, let me tell you, (said goldsmith,) when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, he said, 'sir, i have a favour to beg of you. when any body asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention john filby, at the harrow, in water-lane.' johnson. 'why, sir, that was because he knew the strange colour would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could make a coat even of so absurd a colour[ ].' after dinner our conversation first turned upon pope. johnson said, his characters of men were admirably drawn, those of women not so well[ ]. he repeated to us, in his forcible melodious manner, the concluding lines of the _dunciad_[ ]. while he was talking loudly in praise of those lines, one of the company[ ] ventured to say, 'too fine for such a poem:--a poem on what?' johnson, (with a disdainful look,) 'why, on _dunces_. it was worth while being a dunce then. ah, sir, hadst _thou_ lived in those days! it is not worth while being a dunce now, when there are no wits[ ].' bickerstaff observed, as a peculiar circumstance, that pope's fame was higher when he was alive than it was then[ ]. johnson said, his pastorals were poor things, though the versification was fine[ ]. he told us, with high satisfaction, the anecdote of pope's inquiring who was the authour of his _london_, and saying, he will be soon _déterré_[ ]. he observed, that in dryden's poetry there were passages drawn from a profundity which pope could never reach[ ]. he repeated some fine lines on love, by the former, (which i have now forgotten[ ],) and gave great applause to the character of zimri[ ]. goldsmith said, that pope's character of addison[ ] shewed a deep knowledge of the human heart. johnson said, that the description of the temple, in the _mourning bride_[ ], was the finest poetical passage he had ever read; he recollected none in shakspeare equal to it. 'but, (said garrick, all alarmed for the "god of his idolatry[ ],") we know not the extent and variety of his powers.' 'we are to suppose there are such passages in his works. shakspeare must not suffer from the badness of our memories.' johnson, diverted by this enthusiastick jealousy, went on with greater ardour: 'no, sir; congreve has _nature_;' (smiling on the tragick eagerness of garrick;) but composing himself, he added, 'sir, this is not comparing congreve on the whole, with shakspeare on the whole; but only maintaining that congreve has one finer passage than any that can be found in shakspeare. sir, a man may have no more than ten guineas in the world, but he may have those ten guineas in one piece; and so may have a finer piece than a man who has ten thousand pounds: but then he has only one ten-guinea piece. what i mean is, that you can shew me no passage where there is simply a description of material objects, without any intermixture of moral notions, which produces such an effect[ ].' mr. murphy mentioned shakspeare's description of the night before the battle of agincourt[ ]; but it was observed, it had _men_ in it. mr. davies suggested the speech of juliet, in which she figures herself awaking in the tomb of her ancestors[ ]. some one mentioned the description of dover cliff[ ]. johnson. 'no, sir; it should be all precipice,--all vacuum. the crows impede your fall. the diminished appearance of the boats, and other circumstances, are all very good description; but do not impress the mind at once with the horrible idea of immense height. the impression is divided; you pass on by computation, from one stage of the tremendous space to another. had the girl in _the mourning bride_ said, she could not cast her shoe to the top of one of the pillars in the temple, it would not have aided the idea, but weakened it.' talking of a barrister who had a bad utterance, some one, (to rouse johnson,) wickedly said, that he was unfortunate in not having been taught oratory by sheridan[ ]. johnson. 'nay, sir, if he had been taught by sheridan, he would have cleared the room.' garrick. 'sheridan has too much vanity to be a good man.' we shall now see johnson's mode of _defending_ a man; taking him into his own hands, and discriminating. johnson. 'no, sir. there is, to be sure, in sheridan, something to reprehend, and every thing to laugh at; but, sir, he is not a bad man. no, sir; were mankind to be divided into good and bad, he would stand considerably within the ranks of good. and, sir, it must be allowed that sheridan excels in plain declamation, though he can exhibit no character.' i should, perhaps, have suppressed this disquisition concerning a person of whose merit and worth i think with respect, had he not attacked johnson so outrageously in his _life of swift_, and, at the same time, treated us, his admirers, as a set of pigmies[ ]. he who has provoked the lash of wit, cannot complain that he smarts from it. mrs. montagu, a lady distinguished for having written an essay on shakspeare, being mentioned. reynolds. 'i think that essay does her honour.' johnson, 'yes, sir; it does _her_ honour, but it would do nobody else honour. i have, indeed, not read it all. but when i take up the end of a web, and find it packthread, i do not expect, by looking further, to find embroidery. sir, i will venture to say, there is not one sentence of true criticism in her book.' garrick. 'but, sir, surely it shews how much voltaire has mistaken shakspeare, which nobody else has done[ ].' johnson. 'sir, nobody else has thought it worth while. and what merit is there in that? you may as well praise a schoolmaster for whipping a boy who has construed ill. no, sir, there is no real criticism in it: none shewing the beauty of thought, as formed on the workings of the human heart.' the admirers of this essay[ ] may be offended at the slighting manner in which johnson spoke of it; but let it be remembered, that he gave his honest opinion unbiased by any prejudice, or any proud jealousy of a woman intruding herself into the chair of criticism; for sir joshua reynolds has told me, that when the essay first came out, and it was not known who had written it, johnson wondered how sir joshua could like it[ ]. at this time sir joshua himself had received no information concerning the authour, except being assured by one of our most eminent literati, that it was clear its authour did not know the greek tragedies in the original. one day at sir joshua's table, when it was related that mrs. montagu, in an excess of compliment to the authour of a modern tragedy, had exclaimed, 'i tremble for shakspeare;' johnson said, 'when shakspeare has got ---- for his rival, and mrs. montagu for his defender, he is in a poor state indeed.' johnson proceeded: 'the scotchman[ ] has taken the right method in his _elements of criticism_. i do not mean that he has taught us any thing; but he has told us old things in a new way.' murphy. 'he seems to have read a great deal of french criticism, and wants to make it his own; as if he had been for years anatomising the heart of man, and peeping into every cranny of it.' goldsmith. 'it is easier to write that book, than to read it[ ].' johnson. 'we have an example of true criticism in burke's _essay on the sublime and beautiful_; and, if i recollect, there is also du bos[ ]; and bouhours[ ], who shews all beauty to depend on truth. there is no great merit in telling how many plays have ghosts in them, and how this ghost is better than that. you must shew how terrour is impressed on the human heart. in the description of night in _macbeth_[ ], the beetle and the bat detract from the general idea of darkness,--inspissated gloom.' politicks being mentioned, he said, 'this petitioning is a new mode of distressing government, and a mighty easy one. i will undertake to get petitions either against quarter-guineas or half-guineas, with the help of a little hot wine. there must be no yielding to encourage this. the object is not important enough. we are not to blow up half a dozen palaces, because one cottage is burning[ ].' the conversation then took another turn. johnson. 'it is amazing what ignorance of certain points one sometimes finds in men of eminence. a wit about town, who wrote latin bawdy verses, asked me, how it happened that england and scotland, which were once two kingdoms, were now one:--and sir fletcher norton[ ] did not seem to know that there were such publications as the reviews.' 'the ballad of hardyknute[ ] has no great merit, if it be really ancient. people talk of nature. but mere obvious nature may be exhibited with very little power of mind.' on thursday, october , i passed the evening with him at his house. he advised me to complete a dictionary of words peculiar to scotland, of which i shewed him a specimen. 'sir, (said he,) ray has made a collection of north-country words[ ]. by collecting those of your country, you will do a useful thing towards the history of the language.' he bade me also go on with collections which i was making upon the antiquities of scotland. 'make a large book; a folio.' boswell. 'but of what use will it be, sir?' johnson. 'never mind the use; do it.' i complained that he had not mentioned garrick in his preface to shakspeare[ ]; and asked him if he did not admire him. johnson. 'yes, as "a poor player, who frets and struts his hour upon the stage;"--as a shadow[ ].' boswell, 'but has he not brought shakspeare into notice?' [ ] johnson. 'sir, to allow that, would be to lampoon the age. many of shakspeare's plays are the worse for being acted: _macbeth_, for instance[ ].' boswell. 'what, sir, is nothing gained by decoration and action? indeed, i do wish that you had mentioned garrick.' johnson. 'my dear sir, had i mentioned him, i must have mentioned many more: mrs. pritchard, mrs. cibber,--nay, and mr. cibber too; he too altered shakspeare.' boswell. 'you have read his apology, sir?' johnson. 'yes, it is very entertaining. but as for cibber himself, taking from his conversation all that he ought not to have said[ ], he was a poor creature. i remember when he brought me one of his odes to have my opinion of it[ ]; i could not bear such nonsense, and would not let him read it to the end; so little respect had i for _that great man_! (laughing.) yet i remember richardson wondering that i could treat him with familiarity[ ].' i mentioned to him that i had seen the execution of several convicts at tyburn[ ], two days before, and that none of them seemed to be under any concern. johnson. 'most of them, sir, have never thought at all.' boswell. 'but is not the fear of death natural to man?' johnson. 'so much so, sir, that the whole of life is but keeping away the thoughts of it[ ].' he then, in a low and earnest tone, talked of his meditating upon the aweful hour of his own dissolution, and in what manner he should conduct himself upon that occasion: 'i know not (said he,) whether i should wish to have a friend by me, or have it all between god and myself.' talking of our feeling for the distresses of others;--johnson. 'why, sir, there is much noise made about it, but it is greatly exaggerated. no, sir, we have a certain degree of feeling to prompt us to do good: more than that, providence does not intend. it would be misery to no purpose[ ].' boswell. 'but suppose now, sir, that one of your intimate friends were apprehended for an offence for which he might be hanged.' johnson. 'i should do what i could to bail him, and give him any other assistance; but if he were once fairly hanged, i should not suffer.' boswell. 'would you eat your dinner that day, sir?' johnson. 'yes, sir; and eat it as if he were eating it with me. why, there's baretti, who is to be tried for his life to-morrow, friends have risen up for him on every side; yet if he should be hanged, none of them will eat a slice of plumb-pudding the less. sir, that sympathetic feeling goes a very little way in depressing the mind[ ].' i told him that i had dined lately at foote's, who shewed me a letter which he had received from tom davies, telling him that he had not been able to sleep from the concern which he felt on account of '_this sad affair of baretti_[ ],' begging of him to try if he could suggest any thing that might be of service; and, at the same time, recommending to him an industrious young man who kept a pickle-shop. johnson. 'ay, sir, here you have a specimen of human sympathy; a friend hanged, and a cucumber pickled. we know not whether baretti or the pickle-man has kept davies from sleep; nor does he know himself. and as to his not sleeping, sir; tom davies is a very great man; tom has been upon the stage, and knows how to do those things. i have not been upon the stage, and cannot do those things.' boswell. 'i have often blamed myself, sir, for not feeling for others as sensibly as many say they do.' johnson. 'sir, don't be duped by them any more. you will find these very feeling people are not very ready to do you good. they _pay_ you by _feeling_.' boswell. 'foote has a great deal of humour?' johnson. 'yes, sir.' boswell. 'he has a singular talent of exhibiting character.' johnson. 'sir, it is not a talent; it is a vice; it is what others abstain from. it is not comedy, which exhibits the character of a species, as that of a miser gathered from many misers: it is farce, which exhibits individuals.' boswell. 'did not he think of exhibiting you, sir?' johnson. 'sir, fear restrained him; he knew i would have broken his bones. i would have saved him the trouble of cutting off a leg; i would not have left him a leg to cut off[ ].' boswell. 'pray, sir, is not foote an infidel?' johnson. 'i do not know, sir, that the fellow is an infidel; but if he be an infidel, he is an infidel as a dog is an infidel; that is to say, he has never thought upon the subject[ ].' boswell. 'i suppose, sir, he has thought superficially, and seized the first notions which occurred to his mind.' johnson. 'why then, sir, still he is like a dog, that snatches the piece next him. did you never observe that dogs have not the power of comparing? a dog will take a small bit of meat as readily as a large, when both are before him.' 'buchanan (he observed,) has fewer _centos_[ ] than any modern latin poet. he not only had great knowledge of the latin language, but was a great poetical genius. both the scaligers praise him.' he again talked of the passage in _congreve_ with high commendation, and said, 'shakspeare never has six lines together without a fault. perhaps you may find seven, but this does not refute my general assertion. if i come to an orchard, and say there's no fruit here, and then comes a poring man, who finds two apples and three pears, and tells me, "sir, you are mistaken, i have found both apples and pears," i should laugh at him: what would that be to the purpose?' boswell. 'what do you think of dr. young's _night thoughts_, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, there are very fine things in them[ ].' boswell. 'is there not less religion in the nation now, sir, than there was formerly?' johnson. 'i don't know, sir, that there is.' boswell. 'for instance, there used to be a chaplain in every great family[ ], which we do not find now.' johnson. 'neither do you find any of the state servants which great families used formerly to have. there is a change of modes in the whole department of life.' next day, october , he appeared, for the only time i suppose in his life, as a witness in a court of justice, being called to give evidence to the character of mr. baretti, who having stabbed a man in the street, was arraigned at the old bailey for murder[ ]. never did such a constellation of genius enlighten the aweful sessions-house, emphatically called justice hall; mr. burke, mr. garrick, mr. beauclerk, and dr. johnson; and undoubtedly their favourable testimony had due weight with the court and jury. johnson gave his evidence in a slow, deliberate, and distinct manner, which was uncommonly impressive. it is well known that mr. baretti was acquitted. on the th of october, we dined together at the mitre tavern. i found fault with foote for indulging his talent of ridicule at the expence of his visitors, which i colloquially termed making fools of his company. johnson. 'why, sir, when you go to see foote, you do not go to see a saint: you go to see a man who will be entertained at your house, and then bring you on a publick stage; who will entertain you at his house, for the very purpose of bringing you on a publick stage. sir, he does not make fools of his company; they whom he exposes are fools already: he only brings them into action.' talking of trade, he observed, 'it is a mistaken notion that a vast deal of money is brought into a nation by trade. it is not so. commodities come from commodities; but trade produces no capital accession of wealth. however, though there should be little profit in money, there is a considerable profit in pleasure, as it gives to one nation the productions of another; as we have wines and fruits, and many other foreign articles, brought to us.' boswell. 'yes, sir, and there is a profit in pleasure, by its furnishing occupation to such numbers of mankind.' johnson. 'why, sir, you cannot call that pleasure to which all are averse, and which none begin but with the hope of leaving off; a thing which men dislike before they have tried it, and when they have tried it.' boswell. 'but, sir, the mind must be employed, and we grow weary when idle.' johnson. 'that is, sir, because, others being busy, we want company; but if we were all idle, there would be no growing weary; we should all entertain one another. there is, indeed, this in trade:--it gives men an opportunity of improving their situation. if there were no trade, many who are poor would always remain poor. but no man loves labour for itself.' boswell. 'yes, sir, i know a person who does. he is a very laborious judge, and he loves the labour[ ].' johnson. 'sir, that is because he loves respect and distinction. could he have them without labour, he would like it less.' boswell. 'he tells me he likes it for itself.'--'why, sir, he fancies so, because he is not accustomed to abstract.' we went home to his house to tea. mrs. williams made it with sufficient dexterity, notwithstanding her blindness, though her manner of satisfying herself that the cups were full enough appeared to me a little aukward; for i fancied she put her finger down a certain way, till she felt the tea touch it[ ]. in my first elation at being allowed the privilege of attending dr. johnson at his late visits to this lady, which was like being _è secretioribus consiliis_[ ], i willingly drank cup after cup, as if it had been the heliconian spring. but as the charm of novelty went off, i grew more fastidious; and besides, i discovered that she was of a peevish temper[ ]. there was a pretty large circle this evening. dr. johnson was in very good humour, lively, and ready to talk upon all subjects. mr. fergusson, the self-taught philosopher, told him of a new-invented machine which went without horses: a man who sat in it turned a handle, which worked a spring that drove it forward. 'then, sir, (said johnson,) what is gained is, the man has his choice whether he will move himself alone, or himself and the machine too.' dominicetti[ ] being mentioned, he would not allow him any merit. 'there is nothing in all this boasted system. no, sir; medicated baths can be no better than warm water: their only effect can be that of tepid moisture.' one of the company took the other side, maintaining that medicines of various sorts, and some too of most powerful effect, are introduced into the human frame by the medium of the pores; and, therefore, when warm water is impregnated with salutiferous substances, it may produce great effects as a bath. this appeared to me very satisfactory. johnson did not answer it; but talking for victory, and determined to be master of the field, he had recourse to the device which goldsmith imputed to him in the witty words of one of cibber's comedies: 'there is no arguing with johnson; for when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it[ ].' he turned to the gentleman, 'well, sir, go to dominicetti, and get thyself fumigated; but be sure that the steam be directed to thy _head_, for _that_ is the _peccant part_'. this produced a triumphant roar of laughter from the motley assembly of philosophers, printers, and dependents, male and female. i know not how so whimsical a thought came into my mind, but i asked, 'if, sir, you were shut up in a castle, and a newborn child with you, what would you do?' johnson. 'why, sir, i should not much like my company.' boswell. 'but would you take the trouble of rearing it?' he seemed, as may well be supposed, unwilling to pursue the subject: but upon my persevering in my question, replied, 'why yes, sir, i would; but i must have all conveniencies. if i had no garden, i would make a shed on the roof, and take it there for fresh air. i should feed it, and wash it much, and with warm water to please it, not with cold water to give it pain.' boswell. 'but, sir, does not heat relax?' johnson. 'sir, you are not to imagine the water is to be very hot. i would not _coddle_ the child. no, sir, the hardy method of treating children does no good. i'll take you five children from london, who shall cuff five highland children. sir, a man bred in london will carry a burthen, or run, or wrestle, as well as a man brought up in the hardiest manner in the country.' boswell. 'good living, i suppose, makes the londoners strong.' johnson. 'why, sir, i don't know that it does. our chairmen from ireland, who are as strong men as any, have been brought up upon potatoes. quantity makes up for quality.' boswell. 'would you teach this child that i have furnished you with, any thing?' johnson. 'no, i should not be apt to teach it.' boswell. 'would not you have a pleasure in teaching it?' johnson. 'no, sir, i should _not_ have a pleasure in teaching it.' boswell. 'have you not a pleasure in teaching men?--_there_ i have you. you have the same pleasure in teaching men, that i should have in teaching children.' johnson. 'why, something about that.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, that what is called natural affection is born with us? it seems to me to be the effect of habit, or of gratitude for kindness. no child has it for a parent whom it has not seen.' johnson. 'why, sir, i think there is an instinctive natural affection in parents towards their children.' russia being mentioned as likely to become a great empire, by the rapid increase of population:--johnson. 'why, sir, i see no prospect of their propagating more. they can have no more children than they can get. i know of no way to make them breed more than they do. it is not from reason and prudence that people marry, but from inclination. a man is poor; he thinks, "i cannot be worse, and so i'll e'en take peggy."' boswell. 'but have not nations been more populous at one period than another?' johnson. 'yes, sir; but that has been owing to the people being less thinned at one period than another, whether by emigrations, war, or pestilence, not by their being more or less prolifick. births at all times bear the same proportion to the same number of people.' boswell. 'but, to consider the state of our own country;--does not throwing a number of farms into one hand hurt population?' johnson. 'why no, sir; the same quantity of food being produced, will be consumed by the same number of mouths, though the people may be disposed of in different ways. we see, if corn be dear, and butchers' meat cheap, the farmers all apply themselves to the raising of corn, till it becomes plentiful and cheap, and then butchers' meat becomes dear; so that an equality is always preserved. no, sir, let fanciful men do as they will, depend upon it, it is difficult to disturb the system of life.' boswell. 'but, sir, is it not a very bad thing for landlords to oppress their tenants, by raising their rents?' johnson. 'very bad. but, sir, it never can have any general influence; it may distress some individuals. for, consider this: landlords cannot do without tenants. now tenants will not give more for land, than land is worth. if they can make more of their money by keeping a shop, or any other way, they'll do it, and so oblige landlords to let land come back to a reasonable rent, in order that they may get tenants. land, in england, is an article of commerce. a tenant who pays his landlord his rent, thinks himself no more obliged to him than you think yourself obliged to a man in whose shop you buy a piece of goods. he knows the landlord does not let him have his land for less than he can get from others, in the same manner as the shopkeeper sells his goods. no shopkeeper sells a yard of ribband for sixpence when seven-pence is the current price.' boswell. 'but, sir, is it not better that tenants should be dependant on landlords?' johnson. 'why, sir, as there are many more tenants than landlords, perhaps, strictly speaking, we should wish not. but if you please you may let your lands cheap, and so get the value, part in money and part in homage. i should agree with you in that.' boswell. 'so, sir, you laugh at schemes of political improvement.' johnson. 'why, sir, most schemes of political improvement are very laughable things.' he observed, 'providence has wisely ordered that the more numerous men are, the more difficult it is for them to agree in any thing, and so they are governed. there is no doubt, that if the poor should reason, "we'll be the poor no longer, we'll make the rich take their turn," they could easily do it, were it not that they can't agree. so the common soldiers, though so much more numerous than their officers, are governed by them for the same reason.' he said, 'mankind have a strong attachment to the habitations to which they have been accustomed. you see the inhabitants of norway do not with one consent quit it, and go to some part of america, where there is a mild climate, and where they may have the same produce from land, with the tenth part of the labour. no, sir; their affection for their old dwellings, and the terrour of a general change, keep them at home. thus, we see many of the finest spots in the world thinly inhabited, and many rugged spots well inhabited.' _the london chronicle_[ ], which was the only news-paper he constantly took in, being brought, the office of reading it aloud was assigned to me. i was diverted by his impatience. he made me pass over so many parts of it, that my task was very easy. he would not suffer one of the petitions to the king about the middlesex election to be read[ ]. i had hired a bohemian as my servant[ ] while i remained in london, and being much pleased with him, i asked dr. johnson whether his being a roman catholick should prevent my taking him with me to scotland. johnson. 'why no, sir, if _he_ has no objection, you can have none.' boswell. 'so, sir, you are no great enemy to the roman catholick religion.' johnson. 'no more, sir, than to the presbyterian religion.' boswell. 'you are joking.' johnson. 'no, sir, i really think so. nay, sir, of the two, i prefer the popish[ ].' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, the presbyterians have no church, no apostolical ordination.' boswell. 'and do you think that absolutely essential, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, as it was an apostolical institution, i think it is dangerous to be without it. and, sir, the presbyterians have no public worship: they have no form of prayer in which they know they are to join. they go to hear a man pray, and are to judge whether they will join with him.' boswell. 'but, sir, their doctrine is the same with that of the church of england. their confession of faith, and the thirty-nine articles, contain the same points, even the doctrine of predestination.' johnson. 'why yes, sir, predestination was a part of the clamour of the times, so it is mentioned in our articles, but with as little positiveness as could be.' boswell. 'is it necessary, sir, to believe all the thirty-nine articles?' johnson. 'why, sir, that is a question which has been much agitated. some have thought it necessary that they should all be believed; others have considered them to be only articles of peace, that is to say, you are not to preach against them[ ].' boswell. 'it appears to me, sir, that predestination, or what is equivalent to it, cannot be avoided, if we hold an universal prescience in the deity.' johnson. 'why, sir, does not god every day see things going on without preventing them?' boswell. 'true, sir; but if a thing be _certainly_ foreseen, it must be fixed, and cannot happen otherwise; and if we apply this consideration to the human mind, there is no free will, nor do i see how prayer can be of any avail.' he mentioned dr. clarke, and bishop bramhall on _liberty and necessity_, and bid me read south's _sermons on prayer_; but avoided the question which has excruciated philosophers and divines, beyond any other. i did not press it further, when i perceived that he was displeased[ ], and shrunk from any abridgement of an attribute usually ascribed to the divinity, however irreconcilable in its full extent with the grand system of moral government. his supposed orthodoxy here cramped the vigorous powers of his understanding. he was confined by a chain which early imagination and long habit made him think massy and strong, but which, had he ventured to try, he could at once have snapt asunder. i proceeded: 'what do you think, sir, of purgatory[ ], as believed by the roman catholicks?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is a very harmless doctrine. they are of opinion that the generality of mankind are neither so obstinately wicked as to deserve everlasting punishment, nor so good as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; and therefore that god is graciously pleased to allow of a middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees of suffering. you see, sir, there is nothing unreasonable in this.' boswell. 'but then, sir, their masses for the dead?' johnson. 'why, sir, if it be once established that there are souls in purgatory, it is as proper to pray for _them_, as for our brethren of mankind who are yet in this life.' boswell. 'the idolatry of the mass?' johnson. 'sir, there is no idolatry in the mass. they believe god to be there, and they adore him.' boswell. 'the worship of saints?' johnson. 'sir, they do not worship saints; they invoke them; they only ask their prayers[ ]. i am talking all this time of the _doctrines_ of the church of rome. i grant you that in _practice_, purgatory is made a lucrative imposition, and that the people do become idolatrous as they recommend themselves to the tutelary protection of particular saints. i think their giving the sacrament only in one kind is criminal, because it is contrary to the express institution of christ, and i wonder how the council of trent admitted it.' boswell. 'confession?' johnson. 'why, i don't know but that is a good thing. the scripture says, "confess your faults one to another[ ]," and the priests confess as well as the laity. then it must be considered that their absolution is only upon repentance, and often upon penance also. you think your sins may be forgiven without penance, upon repentance alone.' i thus ventured to mention all the common objections against the roman catholick church, that i might hear so great a man upon them. what he said is here accurately recorded. but it is not improbable that if one had taken the other side, he might have reasoned differently. i must however mention, that he had a respect for '_the old religion_,' as the mild melancthon[ ] called that of the roman catholick church, even while he was exerting himself for its reformation in some particulars. sir william scott informs me, that he heard johnson say, 'a man who is converted from protestantism to popery may be sincere: he parts with nothing: he is only superadding to what he already had. but a convert from popery to protestantism gives up so much of what he has held as sacred as any thing that he retains; there is so much _laceration of mind_[ ] in such a conversion, that it can hardly be sincere and lasting[ ].' the truth of this reflection may be confirmed by many and eminent instances, some of which will occur to most of my readers. when we were alone, i introduced the subject of death, and endeavoured to maintain that the fear of it might be got over. i told him that david hume said to me, he was no more uneasy to think he should _not be_ after this life, than that he _had not been_ before he began to exist. johnson: 'sir, if he really thinks so, his perceptions are disturbed; he is mad: if he does not think so, he lies. he may tell you, he holds his finger in the flame of a candle, without feeling pain; would you believe him? when he dies, he at least gives up all he has.' boswell: 'foote, sir, told me, that when he was very ill he was not afraid to die.' johnson: 'it is not true, sir[ ]. hold a pistol to foote's breast, or to hume's breast, and threaten to kill them, and you'll see how they behave.' boswell: 'but may we not fortify our minds for the approach of death?' here i am sensible i was in the wrong, to bring before his view what he ever looked upon with horrour; for although when in a celestial frame, in his _vanity of human wishes_, he has supposed death to be 'kind nature's signal for retreat,' from this state of being to 'a happier seat[ ],' his thoughts upon this aweful change were in general full of dismal apprehensions. his mind resembled the vast amphitheatre, the colisaeum at rome. in the centre stood his judgement, which, like a mighty gladiator, combated those apprehensions that, like the wild beasts of the _arena_, were all around in cells, ready to be let out upon him. after a conflict, he drives them back into their dens; but not killing them, they were still assailing him. to my question, whether we might not fortify our minds for the approach of death, he answered, in a passion, 'no, sir, let it alone. it matters not how a man dies, but how he lives. the act of dying is not of importance, it lasts so short a time[ ].' he added, (with an earnest look,) 'a man knows it must be so, and submits. it will do him no good to whine.' i attempted to continue the conversation. he was so provoked, that he said, 'give us no more of this;' and was thrown into such a state of agitation, that he expressed himself in a way that alarmed and distressed me; shewed an impatience that i should leave him, and when i was going away, called to me sternly, 'don't let us meet to-morrow.' i went home exceedingly uneasy. all the harsh observations which i had ever heard made upon his character, crowded into my mind; and i seemed to myself like the man who had put his head into the lion's mouth a great many times with perfect safety, but at last had it bit off. next morning i sent him a note, stating, that i might have been in the wrong, but it was not intentionally; he was therefore, i could not help thinking, too severe upon me. that notwithstanding our agreement not to meet that day, i would call on him in my way to the city, and stay five minutes by my watch. 'you are, (said i,) in my mind, since last night, surrounded with cloud and storm. let me have a glimpse of sunshine, and go about my affairs in serenity and chearfulness.' upon entering his study, i was glad that he was not alone, which would have made our meeting more awkward. there were with him, mr. steevens[ ] and mr. tyers[ ], both of whom i now saw for the first time. my note had, on[ ] his own reflection, softened him, for he received me very complacently; so that i unexpectedly found myself at ease, and joined in the conversation. he said, the criticks had done too much honour to sir richard blackmore, by writing so much against him[ ]. that in his _creation_ he had been helped by various wits, a line by phillips and a line by tickell; so that by their aid, and that of others, the poem had been made out[ ]. i defended blackmore's supposed lines, which have been ridiculed as absolute nonsense:-- 'a painted vest prince voltiger had on, which from a naked pict his grandsire won[ ].' i maintained it to be a poetical conceit. a pict being painted, if he is slain in battle, and a vest is made of his skin, it is a painted vest won from him, though he was naked[ ]. johnson spoke unfavourably of a certain pretty voluminous authour, saying, 'he used to write anonymous books, and then other books commending those books, in which there was something of rascality.' i whispered him, 'well, sir, you are now in good humour.' johnson. 'yes, sir.' i was going to leave him, and had got as far as the staircase. he stopped me, and smiling, said, 'get you gone _in_;' a curious mode of inviting me to stay, which i accordingly did for some time longer. this little incidental quarrel and reconciliation, which, perhaps, i may be thought to have detailed too minutely, must be esteemed as one of many proofs which his friends had, that though he might be charged with _bad humour_ at times, he was always a _good-natured_ man; and i have heard sir joshua reynolds[ ], a nice and delicate observer of manners, particularly remark, that when upon any occasion johnson had been rough to any person in company, he took the first opportunity of reconciliation, by drinking to him, or addressing his discourse to him[ ]; but if he found his dignified indirect overtures sullenly neglected, he was quite indifferent, and considered himself as having done all that he ought to do, and the other as now in the wrong. being to set out for scotland on the th of november, i wrote to him at streatham, begging that he would meet me in town on the th; but if this should be very inconvenient to him, i would go thither. his answer was as follows:-- 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'upon balancing the inconveniences of both parties, i find it will less incommode you to spend your night here, than me to come to town. i wish to see you, and am ordered by the lady of this house to invite you hither. whether you can come or not, i shall not have any occasion of writing to you again before your marriage, and therefore tell you now, that with great sincerity i wish you happiness. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , .' i was detained in town till it was too late on the ninth, so went to him early on the morning of the tenth of november. 'now (said he,) that you are going to marry, do not expect more from life, than life will afford. you may often find yourself out of humour, and you may often think your wife not studious enough to please you; and yet you may have reason to consider yourself as upon the whole very happily married.' talking of marriage in general, he observed, 'our marriage service is too refined. it is calculated only for the best kind of marriages; whereas, we should have a form for matches of convenience, of which there are many.' he agreed with me that there was no absolute necessity for having the marriage ceremony performed by a regular clergyman, for this was not commanded in scripture. i was volatile enough to repeat to him a little epigrammatick song of mine, on matrimony, which mr. garrick had a few days before procured to be set to musick by the very ingenious mr. dibden. 'a matrimonial thought. 'in the blithe days of honey-moon, with kate's allurements smitten, i lov'd her late, i lov'd her soon, and call'd her dearest kitten. but now my kitten's grown a cat, and cross like other wives, o! by my soul, my honest mat, i fear she has nine lives.' my illustrious friend said, 'it is very well, sir; but you should not swear.' upon which i altered 'o! by my soul,' to 'alas, alas!' he was so good as to accompany me to london, and see me into the post-chaise which was to carry me on my road to scotland. and sure i am, that, however inconsiderable many of the particulars recorded at this time may appear to some, they will be esteemed by the best part of my readers as genuine traits of his character, contributing together to give a full, fair, and distinct view of it. : �tat. .--in he published a political pamphlet, entitled _the false alarm_[ ], intended to justify the conduct of ministry and their majority in the house of commons, for having virtually assumed it as an axiom, that the expulsion of a member of parliament was equivalent to exclusion, and thus having declared colonel lutterel to be duly elected for the county of middlesex, notwithstanding mr. wilkes had a great majority of votes[ ]. this being justly considered as a gross violation of the right of election, an alarm for the constitution extended itself all over the kingdom. to prove this alarm to be false, was the purpose of johnson's pamphlet; but even his vast powers were inadequate to cope with constitutional truth and reason, and his argument failed of effect; and the house of commons have since expunged the offensive resolution from their journals[ ]. that the house of commons might have expelled mr. wilkes repeatedly, and as often as he should be re-chosen, was not denied; but incapacitation cannot be but by an act of the whole legislature. it was wonderful to see how a prejudice in favour of government in general, and an aversion to popular clamour, could blind and contract such an understanding as johnson's, in this particular case; yet the wit, the sarcasm, the eloquent vivacity which this pamphlet displayed, made it be read with great avidity at the time, and it will ever be read with pleasure, for the sake of its composition. that it endeavoured to infuse a narcotick indifference, as to publick concerns, into the minds of the people, and that it broke out sometimes into an extreme coarseness of contemptuous abuse, is but too evident. it must not, however, be omitted, that when the storm of his violence subsides, he takes a fair opportunity to pay a grateful compliment to the king, who had rewarded his merit: 'these low-born rulers[ ] have endeavoured, surely without effect, to alienate the affections of the people from the only king who for almost a century has much appeared to desire, or much endeavoured to deserve them.' and, 'every honest man must lament, that the faction has been regarded with frigid neutrality by the tories, who being long accustomed to signalise their principles by opposition to the court, do not yet consider, that they have at last a king who knows not the name of party, and who wishes to be the common father of all his people.' to this pamphlet, which was at once discovered to be johnson's, several answers came out, in which, care was taken to remind the publick of his former attacks upon government, and of his now being a pensioner, without allowing for the honourable terms upon which johnson's pension was granted and accepted, or the change of system which the british court had undergone upon the accession of his present majesty[ ]. he was, however, soothed[ ] in the highest strain of panegyrick, in a poem called _the remonstrance_, by the rev. mr. stockdale[ ], to whom he was, upon many occasions, a kind protector. the following admirable minute made by him describes so well his own state, and that of numbers to whom self-examination is habitual, that i cannot omit it:-- 'june , . every man naturally persuades himself that he can keep his resolutions, nor is he convinced of his imbecility but by length of time and frequency of experiment[ ]. this opinion of our own constancy is so prevalent, that we always despise him who suffers his general and settled purpose to be overpowered by an occasional desire. they, therefore, whom frequent failures have made desperate, cease to form resolutions; and they who are become cunning, do not tell them. those who do not make them are very few, but of their effect little is perceived; for scarcely any man persists in a course of life planned by choice, but as he is restrained from deviation by some external power. he who may live as he will, seldom lives long in the observation of his own rules[ ].' of this year i have obtained the following letters:-- 'to the reverend dr. farmer[ ], cambridge. 'sir, 'as no man ought to keep wholly to himself any possession that may be useful to the publick, i hope you will not think me unreasonably intrusive, if i have recourse to you for such information as you are more able to give me than any other man. 'in support of an opinion which you have already placed above the need of any more support, mr. steevens, a very ingenious gentleman, lately of king's college, has collected an account of all the translations which shakspeare might have seen and used. he wishes his catalogue to be perfect, and therefore intreats that you will favour him by the insertion of such additions as the accuracy of your inquiries has enabled you to make. to this request, i take the liberty of adding my own solicitation. 'we have no immediate use for this catalogue, and therefore do not desire that it should interrupt or hinder your more important employments. but it will be kind to let us know that you receive it. 'i am, sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, march , .' 'to the reverend mr. thomas warton. 'dear sir, 'the readiness with which you were pleased to promise me some notes on shakspeare, was a new instance of your friendship. i shall not hurry you; but am desired by mr. steevens, who helps me in this edition, to let you know, that we shall print the tragedies first, and shall therefore want first the notes which belong to them. we think not to incommode the readers with a supplement; and therefore, what we cannot put into its proper place, will do us no good. we shall not begin to print before the end of six weeks, perhaps not so soon. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, june , .' 'to the rev. dr. joseph warton. 'dear sir, 'i am revising my edition of _shakspeare_, and remember that i formerly misrepresented your opinion of lear. be pleased to write the paragraph as you would have it, and send it[ ]. if you have any remarks of your own upon that or any other play, i shall gladly receive them. 'make my compliments to mrs. warton. i sometimes think of wandering for a few days to winchester, but am apt to delay. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'sept. , .' 'to mr. francis barber, at mrs. clapp's, bishop-stortford, hertfordshire. 'dear francis, 'i am at last sat down to write to you, and should very much blame myself for having neglected you so long, if i did not impute that and many other failings to want of health[ ]. i hope not to be so long silent again. i am very well satisfied with your progress, if you can really perform the exercises which you are set; and i hope mr. ellis does not suffer you to impose on him, or on yourself. 'make my compliments to mr. ellis, and to mrs. clapp, and mr. smith. 'let me know what english books you read for your entertainment. you can never be wise unless you love reading. 'do not imagine that i shall forget or forsake you; for if, when i examine you, i find that you have not lost your time, you shall want no encouragement from 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, sept. , .' 'to the same. 'dear francis, 'i hope you mind your business. i design you shall stay with mrs. clapp these holidays. if you are invited out you may go, if mr. ellis gives leave. i have ordered you some clothes, which you will receive, i believe, next week. my compliments to mrs. clapp and to mr. ellis, and mr. smith, &c. 'i am 'your affectionate, 'sam. johnson.' 'december , .' during this year there was a total cessation of all correspondence between dr. johnson and me, without any coldness on either side, but merely from procrastination, continued from day to day; and as i was not in london, i had no opportunity of enjoying his company and recording his conversation. to supply this blank, i shall present my readers with some _collectanea_, obligingly furnished to me by the rev. dr. maxwell, of falkland, in ireland, some time assistant preacher at the temple, and for many years the social friend of johnson, who spoke of him with a very kind regard. 'my acquaintance with that great and venerable character commenced in the year . i was introduced to him by mr. grierson[ ], his majesty's printer at dublin, a gentleman of uncommon learning, and great wit and vivacity. mr. grierson died in germany, at the age of twenty-seven. dr. johnson highly respected his abilities, and often observed, that he possessed more extensive knowledge than any man of his years he had ever known. his industry was equal to his talents; and he particularly excelled in every species of philological learning, and was, perhaps, the best critick of the age he lived in. 'i must always remember with gratitude my obligation to mr. grierson, for the honour and happiness of dr. johnson's acquaintance and friendship, which continued uninterrupted and undiminished to his death: a connection, that was at once the pride and happiness of my life. 'what pity it is, that so much wit and good sense as he continually exhibited in conversation, should perish unrecorded! few persons quitted his company without perceiving themselves wiser and better than they were before. on serious subjects he flashed the most interesting conviction upon his auditors; and upon lighter topicks, you might have supposed--_albano musas de monte locutas_[ ]. 'though i can hope to add but little to the celebrity of so exalted a character, by any communications i can furnish, yet out of pure respect to his memory, i will venture to transmit to you some anecdotes concerning him, which fell under my own observation. the very _minutiae_. of such a character must be interesting, and may be compared to the filings of diamonds. 'in politicks he was deemed a tory, but certainly was not so in the obnoxious or party sense of the term; for while he asserted the legal and salutary prerogatives of the crown, he no less respected the constitutional liberties of the people. whiggism, at the time of the revolution, he said, was accompanied with certain principles; but latterly, as a mere party distinction under walpole[ ] and the pelhams was no better than the politicks of stock-jobbers, and the religion of infidels. 'he detested the idea of governing by parliamentary corruption, and asserted most strenuously, that a prince steadily and conspicuously pursuing the interests of his people, could not fail of parliamentary concurrence. a prince of ability, he contended, might and should be the directing soul and spirit of his own administration; in short, his own minister, and not the mere head of a party: and then, and not till then, would the royal dignity be sincerely respected. 'johnson seemed to think, that a certain degree of crown influence over the houses of parliament, (not meaning a corrupt and shameful dependence,) was very salutary, nay, even necessary, in our mixed government[ ]. "for, (said he,) if the members were under no crown influence, and disqualified from receiving any gratification from court, and resembled, as they possibly might, pym and haslerig, and other stubborn and sturdy members of the long parliament, the wheels of government would be totally obstructed. such men would oppose, merely to shew their power, from envy, jealousy, and perversity of disposition; and not gaining themselves, would hate and oppose all who did: not loving the person of the prince, and conceiving they owed him little gratitude, from the mere spirit of insolence and contradiction, they would oppose and thwart him upon all occasions." 'the inseparable imperfection annexed to all human governments consisted, he said, in not being able to create a sufficient fund of virtue and principle to carry the laws into due and effectual execution. wisdom might plan, but virtue alone could execute. and where could sufficient virtue be found? a variety of delegated, and often discretionary, powers must be entrusted somewhere; which, if not governed by integrity and conscience, would necessarily be abused, till at last the constable would sell his for a shilling. 'this excellent person was sometimes charged with abetting slavish and arbitrary principles of government. nothing in my opinion could be a grosser calumny and misrepresentation; for how can it be rationally supposed, that he should adopt such pernicious and absurd opinions, who supported his philosophical character with so much dignity, was extremely jealous of his personal liberty and independence, and could not brook the smallest appearance of neglect or insult, even from the highest personages? 'but let us view him in some instances of more familiar life. 'his general mode of life, during my acquaintance, seemed to be pretty uniform. about twelve o'clock i commonly visited him, and frequently found him in bed, or declaiming over his tea, which he drank very plentifully. he generally had a levee of morning visitors, chiefly men of letters[ ]; hawkesworth, goldsmith, murphy, langton, steevens, beauclerk, &c. &c., and sometimes learned ladies, particularly i remember a french lady[ ] of wit and fashion doing him the honour of a visit. he seemed to me to be considered as a kind of publick oracle, whom every body thought they had a right to visit and consult[ ]; and doubtless they were well rewarded. i never could discover how he found time for his compositions[ ]. he declaimed all the morning, then went to dinner at a tavern, where he commonly staid late, and then drank his tea at some friend's house, over which he loitered a great while, but seldom took supper. i fancy he must have read and wrote chiefly in the night, for i can scarcely recollect that he ever refused going with me to a tavern, and he often went to ranelagh[ ], which he deemed a place of innocent recreation. 'he frequently gave all the silver in his pocket to the poor, who watched him, between his house and the tavern where he dined[ ]. he walked the streets at all hours, and said he was never robbed[ ], for the rogues knew he had little money, nor had the appearance of having much. 'though the most accessible and communicative man alive; yet when he suspected he was invited to be exhibited, he constantly spurned the invitation. 'two young women from staffordshire visited him when i was present, to consult him on the subject of methodism, to which they were inclined. "come, (said he,) you pretty fools, dine with maxwell and me at the mitre, and we will talk over that subject;" which they did, and after dinner he took one of them upon his knee, and fondled her for half an hour together. 'upon a visit to me at a country lodging near twickenham, he asked what sort of society i had there. i told him, but indifferent; as they chiefly consisted of opulent traders, retired from business. he said, he never much liked that class of people; "for, sir (said he,) they have lost the civility of tradesmen, without acquiring the manners of gentlemen[ ]." 'johnson was much attached to london: he observed, that a man stored his mind better there, than any where else; and that in remote situations a man's body might be feasted, but his mind was starved, and his faculties apt to degenerate, from want of exercise and competition. no place, (he said,) cured a man's vanity or arrogance so well as london; for as no man was either great or good _per se_, but as compared with others not so good or great, he was sure to find in the metropolis many his equals, and some his superiours. he observed, that a man in london was in less danger of falling in love indiscreetly, than any where else; for there the difficulty of deciding between the conflicting pretensions of a vast variety of objects, kept him safe. he told me, that he had frequently been offered country preferment, if he would consent to take orders[ ]; but he could not leave the improved society of the capital, or consent to exchange the exhilarating joys and splendid decorations of publick life, for the obscurity, insipidity, and uniformity of remote situations. 'speaking of mr. harte[ ], canon of windsor, and writer of _the history of gustavus adolphus_, he much commended him as a scholar, and a man of the most companionable talents he had ever known. he said, the defects in his history proceeded not from imbecility, but from foppery. 'he loved, he said, the old black letter books; they were rich in matter, though their style was inelegant; wonderfully so, considering how conversant the writers were with the best models of antiquity. 'burton's _anatomy of melancholy_, he said, was the only book that ever took him out of bed two hours sooner than he wished to rise. 'he frequently exhorted me to set about writing a history of ireland, and archly remarked, there had been some good irish writers, and that one irishman might at least aspire to be equal to another. he had great compassion for the miseries and distresses of the irish nation, particularly the papists; and severely reprobated the barbarous debilitating policy of the british government, which, he said, was the most detestable mode of persecution. to a gentleman, who hinted such policy might be necessary to support the authority of the english government, he replied by saying, "let the authority of the english government perish, rather than be maintained by iniquity. better would it be to restrain the turbulence of the natives by the authority of the sword, and to make them amenable to law and justice by an effectual and vigorous police, than to grind them to powder by all manner of disabilities and incapacities. better (said he,) to hang or drown people at once, than by an unrelenting persecution to beggar and starve them.[ ]" the moderation and humanity of the present times have, in some measure, justified the wisdom of his observations. 'dr. johnson was often accused of prejudices, nay, antipathy, with regard to the natives of scotland. surely, so illiberal a prejudice never entered his mind: and it is well known, many natives of that respectable country possessed a large share in his esteem; nor were any of them ever excluded from his good offices, as far as opportunity permitted. true it is, he considered the scotch, nationally, as a crafty, designing people, eagerly attentive to their own interest, and too apt to overlook the claims and pretentions of other people. "while they confine their benevolence, in a manner, exclusively to those of their own country, they expect to share in the good offices of other people. now (said johnson,) this principle is either right or wrong; if right, we should do well to imitate such conduct; if wrong, we cannot too much detest it."[ ] 'being solicited to compose a funeral sermon for the daughter of a tradesman, he naturally enquired into the character of the deceased; and being told she was remarkable for her humility and condescension to inferiours, he observed, that those were very laudable qualities, but it might not be so easy to discover who the lady's inferiours were. 'of a certain player[ ] he remarked, that his conversation usually threatened and announced more than it performed; that he fed you with a continual renovation of hope, to end in a constant succession of disappointment. 'when exasperated by contradiction, he was apt to treat his opponents with too much acrimony: as, "sir, you don't see your way through that question:"--"sir, you talk the language of ignorance." on my observing to him that a certain gentleman had remained silent the whole evening, in the midst of a very brilliant and learned society, "sir, (said he,) the conversation overflowed, and drowned him." 'his philosophy, though austere and solemn, was by no means morose and cynical, and never blunted the laudable sensibilities of his character, or exempted him from the influence of the tender passions. want of tenderness, he always alledged, was want of parts, and was no less a proof of stupidity than depravity. 'speaking of mr. hanway, who published _an eight days' journey from london to portsmouth_, "jonas, (said he,) acquired some reputation by travelling abroad[ ], but lost it all by travelling at home.[ ]" 'of the passion of love he remarked, that its violence and ill effects were much exaggerated; for who knows any real sufferings on that head, more than from the exorbitancy of any other passion? 'he much commended _law's serious call_, which he said was the finest piece of hortatory theology in any language[ ]. "law, (said he,) fell latterly into the reveries of jacob behmen[ ], whom law alledged to have been somewhat in the same state with st. paul, and to have seen _unutterable things[ ]--he would have resembled st. paul still more, by not attempting to utter them." 'he observed, that the established clergy in general did not preach plain enough; and that polished periods and glittering sentences flew over the heads of the common people, without any impression upon their hearts. something might be necessary, he observed, to excite the affections of the common people, who were sunk in languor and lethargy, and therefore he supposed that the new concomitants of methodism might probably produce so desirable an effect.[ ] the mind, like the body, he observed, delighted in change and novelty, and even in religion itself, courted new appearances and modifications. whatever might be thought of some methodist teachers, he said, he could scarcely doubt the sincerity of that man, who travelled nine hundred miles in a month, and preached twelve times a week; for no adequate reward, merely temporal, could be given for such indefatigable labour.[ ] 'of dr. priestley's theological works, he remarked, that they tended to unsettle every thing, and yet settled nothing. 'he was much affected by the death of his mother, and wrote to me to come and assist him to compose his mind, which indeed i found extremely agitated. he lamented that all serious and religious conversation was banished from the society of men, and yet great advantages might be derived from it. all acknowledged, he said, what hardly any body practised, the obligation we were under of making the concerns of eternity the governing principles of our lives. every man, he observed, at last wishes for retreat: he sees his expectations frustrated in the world, and begins to wean himself from it, and to prepare for everlasting separation. 'he observed, that the influence of london now extended every where, and that from all manner of communication being opened, there shortly would be no remains of the ancient simplicity, or places of cheap retreat to be found. 'he was no admirer of blank-verse, and said it always failed, unless sustained by the dignity of the subject. in blank-verse, he said, the language suffered more distortion, to keep it out of prose, than any inconvenience or limitation to be apprehended from the shackles and circumspection of rhyme[ ]. 'he reproved me once for saying grace without mention of the name of our lord jesus christ, and hoped in future i would be more mindful of the apostolical injunction[ ]. 'he refused to go out of a room before me at mr. langton's house, saying, he hoped he knew his rank better than to presume to take place of a doctor in divinity. i mention such little anecdotes, merely to shew the peculiar turn and habit of his mind. 'he used frequently to observe, that there was more to be endured than enjoyed, in the general condition of human life; and frequently quoted those lines of dryden: "strange cozenage! none would live past years again, yet all hope pleasure from what still remain[ ]." for his part, he said, he never passed that week in his life which he would wish to repeat, were an angel to make the proposal to him. 'he was of opinion, that the english nation cultivated both their soil and their reason better than any other people: but admitted that the french, though not the highest, perhaps, in any department of literature, yet in every department were very high[ ]. intellectual pre-eminence, he observed, was the highest superiority; and that every nation derived their highest reputation from the splendour and dignity of their writers[ ]. voltaire, he said, was a good narrator, and that his principal merit consisted in a happy selection and arrangement of circumstances. 'speaking of the french novels, compared with richardson's, he said, they might be pretty baubles, but a wren was not an eagle. 'in a latin conversation with the père boscovitch, at the house of mrs. cholmondeley, i heard him maintain the superiority of sir isaac newton over all foreign philosophers[ ], with a dignity and eloquence that surprized that learned foreigner[ ]. it being observed to him, that a rage for every thing english prevailed much in france after lord chatham's glorious war, he said, he did not wonder at it, for that we had drubbed those fellows into a proper reverence for us, and that their national petulance required periodical chastisement. 'lord lyttelton's dialogues, he deemed a nugatory performance. "that man, (said he,) sat down to write a book, to tell the world what the world had all his life been telling him[ ]." 'somebody observing that the scotch highlanders, in the year , had made surprising efforts, considering their numerous wants and disadvantages: "yes, sir, (said he,) their wants were numerous; but you have not mentioned the greatest of them all,--the want of law." 'speaking of the _inward light_, to which some methodists pretended, he said, it was a principle utterly incompatible with social or civil security. "if a man (said he,) pretends to a principle of action of which i can know nothing, nay, not so much as that he has it, but only that he pretends to it; how can i tell what that person may be prompted to do? when a person professes to be governed by a written ascertained law, i can then know where to find him." 'the poem of _fingal_[ ], he said, was a mere unconnected rhapsody, a tiresome repetition of the same images. "in vain shall we look for the _lucidus ordo_'[ ], where there is neither end or object, design or moral, _nec certa recurrit imago_." 'being asked by a young nobleman, what was become of the gallantry and military spirit of the old english nobility, he replied, "why, my lord, i'll tell you what is become of it; it is gone into the city to look for a fortune." 'speaking of a dull tiresome fellow, whom he chanced to meet, he said, "that fellow seems to me to possess but one idea, and that is a wrong one." 'much enquiry having been made concerning a gentleman, who had quitted a company where johnson was, and no information being obtained; at last johnson observed, that "he did not care to speak ill of any man behind his back, but he believed the gentleman was an _attorney_[ ]." 'he spoke with much contempt of the notice taken of woodhouse, the poetical shoemaker[ ]. he said, it was all vanity and childishness: and that such objects were, to those who patronised them, mere mirrours of their own superiority. "they had better (said he,) furnish the man with good implements for his trade, than raise subscriptions for his poems. he may make an excellent shoemaker, but can never make a good poet. a school-boy's exercise may be a pretty thing for a school-boy; but it is no treat for a man." 'speaking of boetius, who was the favourite writer of the middle ages[ ], he said it was very surprizing, that upon such a subject, and in such a situation, he should be _magis philosophius quàm christianus_. 'speaking of arthur murphy, whom he very much loved, "i don't know (said he,) that arthur can be classed with the very first dramatick writers; yet at present i doubt much whether we have any thing superiour to arthur[ ]." 'speaking of the national debt, he said, it was an idle dream to suppose that the country could sink under it. let the public creditors be ever so clamorous, the interest of millions must ever prevail over that of thousands[ ]. 'of dr. kennicott's collations, he observed, that though the text should not be much mended thereby, yet it was no small advantage to know, that we had as good a text as the most consummate industry and diligence could procure[ ]. 'johnson observed, that so many objections might be made to every thing, that nothing could overcome them but the necessity of doing something. no man would be of any profession, as simply opposed to not being of it: but every one must do something. 'he remarked, that a london parish was a very comfortless thing; for the clergyman seldom knew the face of one out of ten of his parishioners. 'of the late mr. mallet he spoke with no great respect: said, he was ready for any dirty job: that he had wrote against byng at the instigation of the ministry[ ], and was equally ready to write for him, provided he found his account in it. 'a gentleman who had been very unhappy in marriage, married immediately after his wife died: johnson said, it was the triumph of hope over experience. 'he observed, that a man of sense and education should meet a suitable companion in a wife[ ]. it was a miserable thing when the conversation could only be such as, whether the mutton should be boiled or roasted, and probably a dispute about that. 'he did not approve of late marriages, observing that more was lost in point of time, than compensated for by any possible advantages[ ]. even ill assorted marriages were preferable to cheerless celibacy. 'of old sheridan he remarked, that he neither wanted parts nor literature; but that his vanity and quixotism obscured his merits. 'he said, foppery was never cured; it was the bad stamina of the mind, which, like those of the body, were never rectified: once a coxcomb, and always a coxcomb. 'being told that gilbert cowper called him the caliban of literature; "well, (said he,) i must dub him the punchinello[ ]." 'speaking of the old earl of corke and orrery, he said, "that man spent his life in catching at an object, [literary eminence,] which he had not power to grasp[ ]." 'to find a substitution for violated morality, he said, was the leading feature in all perversions of religion.' 'he often used to quote, with great pathos, those fine lines of virgil: 'optima quaeque dies miseris mortalibus aevi prima fugit[ ]; subeunt morbi, tristisque senectus, et labor, et durae rapit inclementia mortis[ ].' 'speaking of homer, whom he venerated as the prince of poets, johnson remarked that the advice given to diomed[ ] by his father, when he sent him to the trojan war, was the noblest exhortation that could be instanced in any heathen writer, and comprised in a single line: [greek: aien aristeuein, kai hupeirochon emmenai allon ] which, if i recollect well, is translated by dr. clarke thus: _semper appetere praestantissima, et omnibus aliis antecellere_. 'he observed, "it was a most mortifying reflexion for any man to consider, _what he had done_, compared with what _he might have done_." 'he said few people had intellectual resources sufficient to forego the pleasures of wine. they could not otherwise contrive how to fill the interval between dinner and supper. 'he went with me, one sunday, to hear my old master, gregory sharpe[ ], preach at the temple. in the prefatory prayer, sharpe ranted about _liberty_, as a blessing most fervently to be implored, and its continuance prayed for. johnson observed, that our _liberty_ was in no sort of danger:--he would have done much better, to pray against our _licentiousness_. 'one evening at mrs. montagu's, where a splendid company was assembled, consisting of the most eminent literary characters, i thought he seemed highly pleased with the respect and attention that were shewn him, and asked him on our return home if he was not highly _gratified_ by his visit: "no, sir, (said he) not highly _gratified_; yet i do not recollect to have passed many evenings _with fewer objections_." 'though of no high extraction himself, he had much respect for birth and family, especially among ladies. he said, "adventitious accomplishments may be possessed by all ranks; but one may easily distinguish the _born gentlewoman_." 'he said, "the poor in england[ ] were better provided for, than in any other country of the same extent: he did not mean little cantons, or petty republicks. where a great proportion of the people (said he,) are suffered to languish in helpless misery, that country must be ill policed, and wretchedly governed: a decent provision for the poor, is the true test of civilization.--gentlemen of education, he observed, were pretty much the same in all countries; the condition of the lower orders, the poor especially, was the true mark of national discrimination." 'when the corn laws were in agitation in ireland, by which that country has been enabled not only to feed itself, but to export corn to a large amount[ ]; sir thomas robinson[ ] observed, that those laws might be prejudicial to the corn-trade of england. "sir thomas, (said he,) you talk the language of a savage: what, sir? would you prevent any people from feeding themselves, if by any honest means they can do it[ ]." 'it being mentioned, that garrick assisted dr. brown, the authour of the _estimate_[ ], in some dramatick composition, "no, sir, (said johnson,) he would no more suffer garrick to write a line in his play, than he would suffer him to mount his pulpit." 'speaking of burke, he said, "it was commonly observed, he spoke too often in parliament; but nobody could say he did not speak well, though too frequently and too familiarly[ ]." 'speaking of economy, he remarked, it was hardly worth while to save anxiously twenty pounds a year. if a man could save to that degree, so as to enable him to assume a different rank in society, then indeed, it might answer some purpose. 'he observed, a principal source of erroneous judgement was, viewing things partially and only on _one side_: as for instance, _fortune-hunters_, when they contemplated the fortunes _singly_ and _separately_, it was a dazzling and tempting object; but when they came to possess the wives and their fortunes _together_, they began to suspect that they had not made quite so good a bargain. 'speaking of the late duke of northumberland living very magnificently when lord lieutenant of ireland, somebody remarked it would be difficult to find a suitable successor to him: then exclaimed johnson, _he is only fit to succeed himself_[ ]. 'he advised me, if possible, to have a good orchard. he knew, he said, a clergyman of small income, who brought up a family very reputably which he chiefly fed with apple dumplings. 'he said, he had known several good scholars among the irish gentlemen; but scarcely any of them correct in _quantity_. he extended the same observation to scotland. 'speaking of a certain prelate, who exerted himself very laudably in building churches and parsonage-houses; "however, said he, i do not find that he is esteemed a man of much professional learning, or a liberal patron of it;--yet, it is well, where a man possesses any strong positive excellence.--few have all kinds of merit belonging to their character. we must not examine matters too deeply--no, sir, a _fallible being will fail somewhere_." 'talking of the irish clergy, he said, swift was a man of great parts, and the instrument of much good to his country[ ].--berkeley was a profound scholar, as well as a man of fine imagination; but usher, he said, was the great luminary of the irish church; and a greater, he added, no church could boast of; at least in modern times. 'we dined _tête à tête_ at the mitre, as i was preparing to return to ireland, after an absence of many years. i regretted much leaving london, where i had formed many agreeable connexions: "sir, (said he,) i don't wonder at it; no man, fond of letters, leaves london without regret. but remember, sir, you have seen and enjoyed a great deal;--you have seen life in its highest decorations, and the world has nothing new to exhibit. no man is so well qualifyed to leave publick life as he who has long tried it and known it well. we are always hankering after untried situations, and imagining greater felicity from them than they can afford. no, sir, knowledge and virtue may be acquired in all countries, and your local consequence will make you some amends for the intellectual gratifications you relinquish." then he quoted the following lines with great pathos:-- "he who has early known the pomps of state, (for things unknown, 'tis ignorance to condemn;) and after having viewed the gaudy bait, can boldly say, the trifle i contemn; with such a one contented could i live, contented could i die[ ];"-- 'he then took a most affecting leave of me; said, he knew, it was a point of _duty_ that called me away. "we shall all be sorry to lose you," said he: "_laudo tamen_[ ]."' : aetat. .--in he published another political pamphlet, entitled _thoughts on the late transactions respecting falkland's islands_[ ], in which, upon materials furnished to him by ministry, and upon general topicks expanded in his richest style, he successfully endeavoured to persuade the nation that it was wise and laudable to suffer the question of right to remain undecided, rather than involve our country in another war. it has been suggested by some, with what truth i shall not take upon me to decide, that he rated the consequence of those islands to great-britain too low[ ]. but however this may be, every humane mind must surely applaud the earnestness with which he averted the calamity of war; a calamity so dreadful, that it is astonishing how civilised, nay, christian nations, can deliberately continue to renew it. his description of its miseries in this pamphlet, is one of the finest pieces of eloquence in the english language[ ]. upon this occasion, too, we find johnson lashing the party in opposition with unbounded severity, and making the fullest use of what he ever reckoned a most effectual argumentative instrument,--contempt[ ]. his character of their very able mysterious champion, junius, is executed with all the force of his genius, and finished with the highest care. he seems to have exulted in sallying forth to single combat against the boasted and formidable hero, who bade defiance to 'principalities and powers, and the rulers of this world.'[ ] this pamphlet, it is observable, was softened in one particular, after the first edition[ ]; for the conclusion of mr. george grenville's character stood thus: 'let him not, however, be depreciated in his grave. he had powers not universally possessed: could he have enforced payment of the manilla ransom, _he could have counted it_[ ].' which, instead of retaining its sly sharp point, was reduced to a mere flat unmeaning expression, or, if i may use the word,--_truism_: 'he had powers not universally possessed: and if he sometimes erred, he was likewise sometimes right.' 'to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, 'after much lingering of my own, and much of the ministry, i have at length got out my paper[ ]. but delay is not yet at an end: not many had been dispersed, before lord north ordered the sale to stop. his reasons i do not distinctly know. you may try to find them in the perusal[ ]. before his order, a sufficient number were dispersed to do all the mischief, though, perhaps, not to make all the sport that might be expected from it. 'soon after your departure, i had the pleasure of finding all the danger past with which your navigation[ ] was threatened. i hope nothing happens at home to abate your satisfaction; but that lady rothes[ ], and mrs. langton, and the young ladies, are all well. 'i was last night at the club. dr. percy has written a long ballad[ ] in many _fits_; it is pretty enough. he has printed, and will soon publish it. goldsmith is at bath, with lord clare[ ]. at mr. thrale's, where i am now writing, all are well. i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' mr. strahan[ ], the printer, who had been long in intimacy with johnson, in the course of his literary labours, who was at once his friendly agent in receiving his pension for him[ ], and his banker in supplying him with money when he wanted it; who was himself now a member of parliament, and who loved much to be employed in political negociation[ ]; thought he should do eminent service both to government and johnson, if he could be the means of his getting a seat in the house of commons[ ]. with this view, he wrote a letter to one of the secretaries of the treasury, of which he gave me a copy in his own hand-writing, which is as follows:-- 'sir, 'you will easily recollect, when i had the honour of waiting upon you some time ago, i took the liberty to observe to you, that dr. johnson would make an excellent figure in the house of commons, and heartily wished he had a seat there. my reasons are briefly these: 'i know his perfect good affection to his majesty, and his government, which i am certain he wishes to support by every means in his power. 'he possesses a great share of manly, nervous, and ready eloquence; is quick in discerning the strength and weakness of an argument; can express himself with clearness and precision, and fears the face of no man alive. 'his known character, as a man of extraordinary sense and unimpeached virtue, would secure him the attention of the house, and could not fail to give him a proper weight there. 'he is capable of the greatest application, and can undergo any degree of labour, where he sees it necessary, and where his heart and affections are strongly engaged. his majesty's ministers might therefore securely depend on his doing, upon every proper occasion, the utmost that could be expected from him. they would find him ready to vindicate such measures as tended to promote the stability of government, and resolute and steady in carrying them into execution. nor is any thing to be apprehended from the supposed impetuosity of his temper. to the friends of the king you will find him a lamb, to his enemies a lion. 'for these reasons, i humbly apprehend that he would be a very able and useful member. and i will venture to say, the employment would not be disagreeable to him; and knowing, as i do, his strong affection to the king, his ability to serve him in that capacity, and the extreme ardour with which i am convinced he would engage in that service, i must repeat, that i wish most heartily to see him in the house. 'if you think this worthy of attention, you will be pleased to take a convenient opportunity of mentioning it to lord north. if his lordship should happily approve of it, i shall have the satisfaction of having been, in some degree, the humble instrument of doing my country, in my opinion, a very essential service. i know your good-nature, and your zeal for the publick welfare, will plead my excuse for giving you this trouble. i am, with the greatest respect, sir, 'your most obedient and humble servant, 'william strahan.' 'new-street, march , .' this recommendation, we know, was not effectual; but how, or for what reason, can only be conjectured. it is not to be believed that mr. strahan would have applied, unless johnson had approved of it. i never heard him mention the subject; but at a later period of his life, when sir joshua reynolds told him that mr. edmund burke had said, that if he had come early into parliament, he certainly would have been the greatest speaker that ever was there, johnson exclaimed, 'i should like to try my hand now.' it has been much agitated among his friends and others, whether he would have been a powerful speaker in parliament, had he been brought in when advanced in life. i am inclined to think that his extensive knowledge, his quickness and force of mind, his vivacity and richness of expression, his wit and humour, and above all his poignancy of sarcasm, would have had great effect in a popular assembly; and that the magnitude of his figure, and striking peculiarity of his manner, would have aided the effect. but i remember it was observed by mr. flood, that johnson, having been long used to sententious brevity and the short flights of conversation, might have failed in that continued and expanded kind of argument, which is requisite in stating complicated matters in publick speaking; and as a proof of this he mentioned the supposed speeches in parliament written by him for the magazine, none of which, in his opinion, were at all like real debates. the opinion of one who was himself so eminent an orator, must be allowed to have great weight. it was confirmed by sir william scott, who mentioned that johnson had told him that he had several times tried to speak in the society of arts and sciences, but 'had found he could not get on.' from mr. william gerrard hamilton i have heard that johnson, when observing to him that it was prudent for a man who had not been accustomed to speak in publick, to begin his speech in as simple a manner as possible, acknowledged that he rose in that society to deliver a speech which he had prepared; 'but (said he), all my flowers of oratory forsook me.' i however cannot help wishing, that he _had_ 'tried his hand' in parliament; and i wonder that ministry did not make the experiment. i at length renewed a correspondence which had been too long discontinued:-- 'to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, april , . 'my dear sir, 'i can now fully understand those intervals of silence in your correspondence with me, which have often given me anxiety and uneasiness; for although i am conscious that my veneration and love for mr. johnson have never in the least abated, yet i have deferred for almost a year and a half to write to him.' in the subsequent part of this letter, i gave him an account of my comfortable life as a married man[ ], and a lawyer in practice at the scotch bar; invited him to scotland, and promised to attend him to the highlands, and hebrides. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'if you are now able to comprehend that i might neglect to write without diminution of affection, you have taught me, likewise, how that neglect may be uneasily felt without resentment. i wished for your letter a long time, and when it came, it amply recompensed the delay. i never was so much pleased as now with your account of yourself; and sincerely hope, that between publick business, improving studies, and domestick pleasures, neither melancholy nor caprice will find any place for entrance. whatever philosophy may determine of material nature, it is certainly true of intellectual nature, that it _abhors a vacuum_: our minds cannot be empty; and evil will break in upon them, if they are not pre-occupied by good. my dear sir, mind your studies, mind your business, make your lady happy, and be a good christian. after this, 'tristitiam et metus trades protervis in mare creticum portare ventis[ ].' 'if we perform our duty, we shall be safe and steady, "_sive per_[ ]," &c., whether we climb the highlands, or are tost among the hebrides; and i hope the time will come when we may try our powers both with cliffs and water. i see but little of lord elibank[ ], i know not why; perhaps by my own fault. i am this day going into staffordshire and derbyshire for six weeks[ ]. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, june , .' 'to sir joshua reynolds, in leicester-fields. 'dear sir, 'when i came to lichfield, i found that my portrait[ ] had been much visited, and much admired. every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place; and i was pleased with the dignity conferred by such a testimony of your regard. 'be pleased, therefore, to accept the thanks of, sir, your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourn in derbyshire, july , . 'compliments to miss reynolds,' 'to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, july , . 'my dear sir, 'the bearer of this, mr. beattie[ ], professor of moral philosophy at aberdeen, is desirous of being introduced to your acquaintance. 'his genius and learning, and labours in the service of virtue and religion, render him very worthy of it; and as he has a high esteem of your character, i hope you will give him a favourable reception. i ever am, &c. 'james boswell.' 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'i am lately returned from staffordshire and derbyshire. the last letter mentions two others which you have written to me since you received my pamphlet. of these two i never had but one, in which you mentioned a design of visiting scotland, and, by consequence, put my journey to langton out of my thoughts. my summer wanderings are now over, and i am engaging in a very great work, the revision of my dictionary[ ]; from which i know not, at present, how to get loose. 'if you have observed, or been told, any errours or omissions, you will do me a great favour by letting me know them. 'lady rothes, i find, has disappointed you and herself. ladies will have these tricks. the queen and mrs. thrale, both ladies of experience, yet both missed their reckoning this summer. i hope, a few months will recompence your uneasiness. 'please to tell lady rothes how highly i value the honour of her invitation, which it is my purpose to obey as soon as i have disengaged myself. in the mean time i shall hope to hear often of her ladyship, and every day better news and better, till i hear that you have both the happiness, which to both is very sincerely wished, by, sir, 'your most affectionate, and 'most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'august , .' in october i again wrote to him, thanking him for his last letter, and his obliging reception of mr. beattie; informing him that i had been at alnwick lately, and had good accounts of him from dr. percy. in his religious record of this year, we observe that he was better than usual, both in body and mind, and better satisfied with the regularity of his conduct[ ]. but he is still 'trying his ways'[ ] too rigorously. he charges himself with not rising early enough; yet he mentions what was surely a sufficient excuse for this, supposing it to be a duty seriously required, as he all his life appears to have thought it. 'one great hindrance is want of rest; my nocturnal complaints grow less troublesome towards morning; and i am tempted to repair the deficiencies of the night[ ].' alas! how hard would it be if this indulgence were to be imputed to a sick man as a crime. in his retrospect on the following easter-eve, he says, 'when i review the last year, i am able to recollect so little done, that shame and sorrow, though perhaps too weakly, come upon me.' had he been judging of any one else in the same circumstances, how clear would he have been on the favourable side. how very difficult, and in my opinion almost constitutionally impossible it was for him to be raised early, even by the strongest resolutions, appears from a note in one of his little paper-books, (containing words arranged for his _dictionary_,) written, i suppose, about : 'i do not remember that since i left oxford i ever rose early by mere choice, but once or twice at edial, and two or three times for the _rambler_.' i think he had fair ground enough to have quieted his mind on this subject, by concluding that he was physically incapable of what is at best but a commodious regulation. in he was altogether quiescent as an authour[ ]; but it will be found from the various evidences which i shall bring together that his mind was acute, lively, and vigorous. 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'be pleased to send to mr. banks, whose place of residence i do not know, this note, which i have sent open, that, if you please, you may read it. 'when you send it, do not use your own seal. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' 'to joseph banks, esq. 'perpetua ambitâ his terrá præmia lactis hac habet altrici capra secunda jovis[ ].' 'sir, 'i return thanks to you and to dr. solander for the pleasure which i received in yesterday's conversation. i could not recollect a motto for your goat, but have given her one. you, sir, may perhaps have an epick poem from some happier pen than, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, february , .' 'to dr. johnson. 'my dear sir, 'it is hard that i cannot prevail on you to write to me oftener. but i am convinced that it is in vain to expect from you a private correspondence with any regularity. i must, therefore, look upon you as a fountain of wisdom, from whence few rills are communicated to a distance, and which must be approached at its source, to partake fully of its virtues. * * * * * 'i am coming to london soon, and am to appear in an appeal from the court of session in the house of lords. a schoolmaster in scotland was, by a court of inferiour jurisdiction, deprived of his office, for being somewhat severe in the chastisement of his scholars[ ]. the court of session, considering it to be dangerous to the interest of learning and education, to lessen the dignity of teachers, and make them afraid of too indulgent parents, instigated by the complaints of their children, restored him. his enemies have appealed to the house of lords, though the salary is only twenty pounds a year. i was counsel for him here. i hope there will be little fear of a reversal; but i must beg to have your aid in my plan of supporting the decree. it is a general question, and not a point of particular law. * * * * * 'i am, &c., 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'that you are coming so soon to town i am very glad; and still more glad that you are coming as an advocate. i think nothing more likely to make your life pass happily away, than that consciousness of your own value, which eminence in your profession will certainly confer. if i can give you any collateral help, i hope you do not suspect that it will be wanting. my kindness for you has neither the merit of singular virtue, nor the reproach of singular prejudice. whether to love you be right or wrong, i have many on my side: mrs. thrale loves you, and mrs. williams loves you, and what would have inclined me to love you, if i had been neutral before, you are a great favourite of dr. beattie. 'of dr. beattie i should have thought much, but that his lady puts him out of my head; she is a very lovely woman. 'the ejection which you come hither to oppose, appears very cruel, unreasonable, and oppressive. i should think there could not be much doubt of your success. 'my health grows better, yet i am not fully recovered. i believe it is held, that men do not recover very fast after threescore. i hope yet to see beattie's college: and have not given up the western voyage. but however all this may be or not, let us try to make each other happy when we meet, and not refer our pleasure to distant times or distant places. 'how comes it that you tell me nothing of your lady? i hope to see her some time, and till then shall be glad to hear of her. 'i am, dear sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' 'to bennet langton, esq., near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'i congratulate you and lady rothes[ ] on your little man, and hope you will all be many years happy together. 'poor miss langton can have little part in the joy of her family. she this day called her aunt langton to receive the sacrament with her; and made me talk yesterday on such subjects as suit her condition. it will probably be her _viaticum_. i surely need not mention again that she wishes to see her mother. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' on the st of march, i was happy to find myself again in my friend's study, and was glad to see my old acquaintance, mr. francis barber, who was now returned home[ ]. dr. johnson received me with a hearty welcome; saying, 'i am glad you are come, and glad you are come upon such an errand:' (alluding to the cause of the schoolmaster.) boswell. 'i hope, sir, he will be in no danger. it is a very delicate matter to interfere between a master and his scholars: nor do i see how you can fix the degree of severity that a master may use.' johnson. 'why, sir, till you can fix the degree of obstinacy and negligence of the scholars, you cannot fix the degree of severity of the master. severity must be continued until obstinacy be subdued, and negligence be cured.' he mentioned the severity of hunter, his own master[ ]. 'sir, (said i,) hunter is a scotch name: so it should seem this schoolmaster who beat you so severely was a scotchman. i can now account for your prejudice against the scotch.' johnson. 'sir, he was not scotch; and abating his brutality, he was a very good master[ ].' we talked of his two political pamphlets, _the false alarm_, and _thoughts concerning falkland's islands_. johnson. 'well, sir, which of them did you think the best?' boswell. 'i liked the second best.' johnson. 'why, sir, i liked the first best; and beattie liked the first best. sir, there is a subtlety of disquisition in the first, that is worth all the fire of the second.' boswell. 'pray, sir, is it true that lord north paid you a visit, and that you got two hundred a year in addition to your pension?' johnson. 'no, sir. except what i had from the bookseller, i did not get a farthing by them[ ]. and, between you and me, i believe lord north is no friend to me.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, you cannot account for the fancies of men. well, how does lord elibank? and how does lord monboddo?' boswell. 'very well, sir. lord monboddo still maintains the superiority of the savage life[ ].' johnson. 'what strange narrowness of mind now is that, to think the things we have not known, are better than the things which we have known.' boswell. 'why, sir, that is a common prejudice.' johnson. 'yes, sir, but a common prejudice should not be found in one whose trade it is to rectify errour.' a gentleman having come in who was to go as a mate in the ship along with mr. banks and dr. solander, dr. johnson asked what were the names of the ships destined for the expedition. the gentleman answered, they were once to be called the drake and the ralegh, but now they were to be called the resolution and the adventure[ ]. johnson. 'much better; for had the ralegh[ ] returned without going round the world, it would have been ridiculous. to give them the names of the drake and the ralegh was laying a trap for satire.' boswell. 'had not you some desire to go upon this expedition, sir?' johnson. 'why yes, but i soon laid it aside. sir, there is very little of intellectual, in the course. besides, i see but at a small distance. so it was not worth my while to go to see birds fly, which i should not have seen fly; and fishes swim, which i should not have seen swim.' the gentleman being gone, and dr. johnson having left the room for some time, a debate arose between the reverend mr. stockdale and mrs. desmoulins, whether mr. banks and dr. solander were entitled to any share of glory from their expedition. when dr. johnson returned to us, i told him the subject of their dispute. johnson. 'why, sir, it was properly for botany that they went out: i believe they thought only of culling of simples[ ].' i thanked him for showing civilities to beattie. 'sir, (said he,) i should thank _you_. we all love beattie. mrs. thrale says, if ever she has another husband, she'll have beattie. he sunk upon us[ ] that he was married; else we should have shewn his lady more civilities. she is a very fine woman. but how can you shew civilities to a non-entity? i did not think he had been married. nay, i did not think about it one way or other; but he did not tell us of his lady till late.' he then spoke of st. kilda[ ], the most remote of the hebrides. i told him, i thought of buying it. johnson. 'pray do, sir. we will go and pass a winter amid the blasts there. we shall have fine fish, and we will take some dried tongues with us, and some books. we will have a strong built vessel, and some orkney men to navigate her. we must build a tolerable house: but we may carry with us a wooden house ready made, and requiring nothing but to be put up. consider, sir, by buying st. kilda, you may keep the people from falling into worse hands. we must give them a clergyman, and he shall be one of beattie's choosing. he shall be educated at marischal college. i'll be your lord chancellor, or what you please.' boswell. 'are you serious, sir, in advising me to buy st. kilda? for if you should advise me to go to japan, i believe i should do it.' johnson. 'why yes, sir, i am serious.' boswell. 'why then, i'll see what can be done.' i gave him an account of the two parties in the church of scotland, those for supporting the rights of patrons, independent of the people, and those against it. johnson. 'it should be settled one way or other. i cannot wish well to a popular election of the clergy, when i consider that it occasions such animosities, such unworthy courting of the people, such slanders between the contending parties, and other disadvantages. it is enough to allow the people to remonstrate against the nomination of a minister for solid reasons.' (i suppose he meant heresy or immorality.) he was engaged to dine abroad, and asked me to return to him in the evening, at nine, which i accordingly did. we drank tea with mrs. williams, who told us a story of second sight[ ], which happened in wales where she was born. he listened to it very attentively, and said he should be glad to have some instances of that faculty well authenticated. his elevated wish for more and more evidence for spirit[ ], in opposition to the groveling belief of materialism, led him to a love of such mysterious disquisitions. he again[ ] justly observed, that we could have no certainty of the truth of supernatural appearances, unless something was told us which we could not know by ordinary means, or something done which could not be done but by supernatural power; that pharaoh in reason and justice required such evidence from moses; nay, that our saviour said, 'if i had not done among them the works which none other man did, they had not had sin[ ].' he had said in the morning, that macaulay's _history of st. kilda_, was very well written, except some foppery about liberty and slavery. i mentioned to him that macaulay told me, he was advised to leave out of his book the wonderful story that upon the approach of a stranger all the inhabitants catch cold[ ]; but that it had been so well authenticated, he determined to retain it. johnson. 'sir, to leave things out of a book, merely because people tell you they will not be believed, is meanness. macaulay acted with more magnanimity.' we talked of the roman catholick religion, and how little difference there was in essential matters between ours and it. johnson. 'true, sir; all denominations of christians have really little difference in point of doctrine, though they may differ widely in external forms. there is a prodigious difference between the external form of one of your presbyterian churches in scotland, and a church in italy; yet the doctrine taught is essentially the same[ ].' i mentioned the petition to parliament for removing the subscription to the thirty-nine articles[ ]. johnson. 'it was soon thrown out. sir, they talk of not making boys at the university subscribe to what they do not understand[ ]; but they ought to consider, that our universities were founded to bring up members for the church of england, and we must not supply our enemies with arms from our arsenal. no, sir, the meaning of subscribing is, not that they fully understand all the articles, but that they will adhere to the church of england[ ]. now take it in this way, and suppose that they should only subscribe their adherence to the church of england, there would be still the same difficulty; for still the young men would be subscribing to what they do not understand. for if you should ask them, what do you mean by the church of england? do you know in what it differs from the presbyterian church? from the romish church? from the greek church? from the coptick church? they could not tell you. so, sir, it comes to the same thing.' boswell. 'but, would it not be sufficient to subscribe the bible[ ]?' johnson. 'why no, sir; for all sects will subscribe the bible; nay, the mahometans will subscribe the bible; for the mahometans acknowledge jesus christ, as well as moses, but maintain that god sent mahomet as a still greater prophet than either.' i mentioned the motion which had been made in the house of commons, to abolish the fast of the th of january[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, i could have wished that it had been a temporary act, perhaps, to have expired with the century. i am against abolishing it; because that would be declaring it wrong to establish it; but i should have no objection to make an act, continuing it for another century, and then letting it expire.' he disapproved of the royal marriage bill; 'because (said he) i would not have the people think that the validity of marriage depends on the will of man, or that the right of a king depends on the will of man. i should not have been against making the marriage of any of the royal family without the approbation of king and parliament, highly criminal[ ].' in the morning we had talked of old families, and the respect due to them. johnson. 'sir, you have a right to that kind of respect, and are arguing for yourself. i am for supporting the principle, and am disinterested in doing it, as i have no such right[ ].' boswell. 'why, sir, it is one more incitement to a man to do well.' johnson. 'yes, sir, and it is a matter of opinion, very necessary to keep society together. what is it but opinion, by which we have a respect for authority, that prevents us, who are the rabble, from rising up and pulling down you who are gentlemen from your places, and saying "we will be gentlemen in our turn"? now, sir, that respect for authority is much more easily granted to a man whose father has had it, than to an upstart[ ], and so society is more easily supported.' boswell. 'perhaps, sir, it might be done by the respect belonging to office, as among the romans, where the dress, the toga, inspired reverence.' johnson. 'why, we know very little about the romans. but, surely, it is much easier to respect a man who has always had respect, than to respect a man who we know was last year no better than ourselves, and will be no better next year. in republicks there is not a respect for authority, but a fear of power.' boswell. 'at present, sir, i think riches seem to gain most respect.' johnson. 'no, sir, riches do not gain hearty respect; they only procure external attention. a very rich man, from low beginnings, may buy his election in a borough; but, _caeteris paribus_, a man of family will be preferred. people will prefer a man for whose father their fathers have voted, though they should get no more money, or even less. that shows that the respect for family is not merely fanciful, but has an actual operation. if gentlemen of family would allow the rich upstarts to spend their money profusely, which they are ready enough to do, and not vie with them in expence, the upstarts would soon be at an end, and the gentlemen would remain: but if the gentlemen will vie in expence with the upstarts, which is very foolish, they must be ruined.' i gave him an account of the excellent mimickry of a friend of mine in scotland[ ]; observing, at the same time, that some people thought it a very mean thing. johnson. 'why, sir, it is making a very mean use of a man's powers. but to be a good mimick, requires great powers; great acuteness of observation, great retention of what is observed, and great pliancy of organs, to represent what is observed. i remember a lady of quality in this town, lady ---- ----, who was a wonderful mimick, and used to make me laugh immoderately. i have heard she is now gone mad.' boswell. 'it is amazing how a mimick can not only give you the gestures and voice of a person whom he represents; but even what a person would say on any particular subject.' johnson. 'why, sir, you are to consider that the manner and some particular phrases of a person do much to impress you with an idea of him, and you are not sure that he would say what the mimick says in his character.' boswell. 'i don't think foote[ ] a good mimick, sir.' johnson. 'no, sir; his imitations are not like. he gives you something different from himself, but not the character which he means to assume. he goes out of himself, without going into other people. he cannot take off any person unless he is strongly marked, such as george faulkner[ ]. he is like a painter, who can draw the portrait of a man who has a wen upon his face, and who, therefore, is easily known. if a man hops upon one leg, foote can hop upon one leg[ ]. but he has not that nice discrimination which your friend seems to possess. foote is, however, very entertaining, with a kind of conversation between wit and buffoonery[ ].' on monday, march , i found him busy, preparing a fourth edition of his folio dictionary. mr. peyton, one of his original amanuenses, was writing for him. i put him in mind of a meaning of the word _side_, which he had omitted, viz. relationship; as father's side, mother's side. he inserted it. i asked him if _humiliating_ was a good word. he said, he had seen it frequently used, but he did not know it to be legitimate english. he would not admit _civilization_, but only _civility_[ ]. with great deference to him, i thought _civilization_, from _to civilize_ better in the sense opposed to _barbarity_, than _civility_; as it is better to have a distinct word for each sense, than one word with two senses, which _civility_ is, in his way of using it. he seemed also to be intent on some sort of chymical operation. i was entertained by observing how he contrived to send mr. peyton on an errand, without seeming to degrade him. 'mr. peyton,--mr. peyton, will you be so good as to take a walk to temple-bar? you will there see a chymist's shop; at which you will be pleased to buy for me an ounce of oil of vitriol; not spirit of vitriol, but oil of vitriol. it will cost three half-pence.' peyton immediately went, and returned with it, and told him it cost but a penny. i then reminded him of the schoolmaster's cause, and proposed to read to him the printed papers concerning it. 'no, sir, (said he,) i can read quicker than i can hear.' so he read them to himself. after he had read for some time, we were interrupted by the entrance of mr. kristrom, a swede, who was tutor to some young gentlemen in the city. he told me, that there was a very good history of sweden, by daline. having at that time an intention of writing the history of that country[ ], i asked dr. johnson whether one might write a history of sweden, without going thither. 'yes, sir, (said he,) one for common use.' we talked of languages. johnson observed, that leibnitz had made some progress in a work, tracing all languages up to the hebrew. 'why, sir, (said he,) you would not imagine that the french _jour_, day, is derived from the latin _dies_, and yet nothing is more certain; and the intermediate steps are very clear. from _dies_, comes _diurnus_. _diu_ is, by inaccurate ears, or inaccurate pronunciation, easily confounded with _giu_; then the italians form a substantive of the ablative of an adjective, and thence _giurno_, or, as they make it, _giorno_; which is readily contracted into _giour_, or _jour_' he observed, that the bohemian language was true sclavonick. the swede said, it had some similarity with the german. johnson. 'why, sir, to be sure, such parts of sclavonia as confine with germany, will borrow german words; and such parts as confine with tartary will borrow tartar words.' he said, he never had it properly ascertained that the scotch highlanders and the irish understood each other[ ]. i told him that my cousin colonel graham, of the royal highlanders, whom i met at drogheda[ ], told me they did. johnson. 'sir, if the highlanders understood irish, why translate the new testament into erse, as was done lately at edinburgh, when there is an irish translation?' boswell. 'although the erse and irish are both dialects of the same language, there may be a good deal of diversity between them, as between the different dialects in italy.'--the swede went away, and mr. johnson continued his reading of the papers. i said, 'i am afraid, sir, it is troublesome.' 'why, sir, (said he,) i do not take much delight in it; but i'll go through it.' we went to the mitre, and dined in the room where he and i first supped together. he gave me great hopes of my cause. 'sir, (said he,) the government of a schoolmaster is somewhat of the nature of military government; that is to say, it must be arbitrary, it must be exercised by the will of one man, according to particular circumstances. you must shew some learning upon this occasion. you must shew, that a schoolmaster has a prescriptive right to beat; and that an action of assault and battery cannot be admitted against him, unless there is some great excess, some barbarity. this man has maimed none of his boys. they are all left with the full exercise of their corporeal faculties. in our schools in england, many boys have been maimed; yet i never heard of an action against a schoolmaster on that account. puffendorf, i think, maintains the right of a schoolmaster to beat his scholars[ ].' on saturday, march , i introduced to him sir alexander macdonald[ ], with whom he had expressed a wish to be acquainted. he received him very courteously. sir alexander observed, that the chancellors in england are chosen from views much inferiour to the office, being chosen from temporary political views. johnson. 'why, sir, in such a government as ours, no man is appointed to an office because he is the fittest for it, nor hardly in any other government; because there are so many connections and dependencies to be studied[ ]. a despotick prince may choose a man to an office, merely because he is the fittest for it. the king of prussia may do it.' sir a. 'i think, sir, almost all great lawyers, such at least as have written upon law, have known only law, and nothing else.' johnson. 'why no, sir; judge hale was a great lawyer, and wrote upon law; and yet he knew a great many other things, and has written upon other things. selden too.' sir a. 'very true, sir; and lord bacon. but was not lord coke a mere lawyer?' johnson. 'why, i am afraid he was; but he would have taken it very ill if you had told him so. he would have prosecuted you for scandal.' boswell. 'lord mansfield is not a mere lawyer.' johnson. 'no, sir. i never was in lord mansfield's company; but lord mansfield was distinguished at the university. lord mansfield, when he first came to town, "drank champagne with the wits," as prior says[ ]. he was the friend of pope[ ].' sir a. 'barristers, i believe, are not so abusive now as they were formerly. i fancy they had less law long ago, and so were obliged to take to abuse, to fill up the time. now they have such a number of precedents, they have no occasion for abuse.' johnson. 'nay, sir, they had more law long ago than they have now. as to precedents, to be sure they will increase in course of time; but the more precedents there are, the less occasion is there for law; that is to say, the less occasion is there for investigating principles.' sir a. 'i have been correcting several scotch accents[ ] in my friend boswell. i doubt, sir, if any scotchman ever attains to a perfect english pronunciation.' johnson. 'why, sir, few of them do, because they do not persevere after acquiring a certain degree of it. but, sir, there can be no doubt that they may attain to a perfect english pronunciation, if they will. we find how near they come to it; and certainly, a man who conquers nineteen parts of the scottish accent, may conquer the twentieth. but, sir, when a man has got the better of nine tenths he grows weary, he relaxes his diligence, he finds he has corrected his accent so far as not to be disagreeable, and he no longer desires his friends to tell him when he is wrong; nor does he choose to be told. sir, when people watch me narrowly, and i do not watch myself, they will find me out to be of a particular county[ ]. in the same manner, dunning[ ] may be found out to be a devonshire man. so most scotchmen may be found out. but, sir, little aberrations are of no disadvantage. i never catched mallet in a scotch accent[ ]; and yet mallet, i suppose, was past five-and-twenty before he came to london.' upon another occasion i talked to him on this subject, having myself taken some pains to improve my pronunciation, by the aid of the late mr. love[ ], of drury-lane theatre, when he was a player at edinburgh, and also of old mr. sheridan. johnson said to me, 'sir, your pronunciation is not offensive.' with this concession i was pretty well satisfied; and let me give my countrymen of north-britain an advice not to aim at absolute perfection in this respect; not to speak _high english_, as we are apt to call what is far removed from the _scotch_, but which is by no means _good english_, and makes, 'the fools who use it[ ],' truly ridiculous[ ]. good english is plain, easy, and smooth in the mouth of an unaffected english gentleman. a studied and factitious pronunciation, which requires perpetual attention and imposes perpetual constraint, is exceedingly disgusting. a small intermixture of provincial peculiarities may, perhaps, have an agreeable effect, as the notes of different birds concur in the harmony of the grove, and please more than if they were all exactly alike. i could name some gentlemen of ireland, to whom a slight proportion of the accent and recitative of that country is an advantage. the same observation will apply to the gentlemen of scotland. i do not mean that we should speak as broad as a certain prosperous member of parliament from that country[ ]; though it has been well observed, that 'it has been of no small use to him; as it rouses the attention of the house by its uncommonness; and is equal to tropes and figures in a good english speaker.' i would give as an instance of what i mean to recommend to my countrymen, the pronunciation of the late sir gilbert elliot[ ]; and may i presume to add that of the present earl of marchmont[ ], who told me, with great good humour, that the master of a shop in london, where he was not known, said to him, 'i suppose, sir, you are an american.' 'why so, sir?' (said his lordship.) 'because, sir, (replied the shopkeeper,) you speak neither english nor scotch, but something different from both, which i conclude is the language of america.' boswell. 'it may be of use, sir, to have a dictionary to ascertain the pronunciation.' johnson. 'why, sir, my dictionary shows you the accents of words, if you can but remember them.' boswell. 'but, sir, we want marks to ascertain the pronunciation of the vowels. sheridan, i believe, has finished such a work.' johnson. 'why, sir, consider how much easier it is to learn a language by the ear, than by any marks. sheridan's dictionary may do very well; but you cannot always carry it about with you: and, when you want the word, you have not the dictionary. it is like a man who has a sword that will not draw. it is an admirable sword, to be sure: but while your enemy is cutting your throat, you are unable to use it. besides, sir, what entitles sheridan to fix the pronunciation of english? he has, in the first place, the disadvantage of being an irishman: and if he says he will fix it after the example of the best company, why they differ among themselves. i remember an instance: when i published the plan for my dictionary, lord chesterfield told me that the word _great_ should be pronounced so as to rhyme to _state_; and sir william yonge sent me word that it should be pronounced so as to rhyme to _seat_, and that none but an irishman would pronounce it _grait_[ ]. now here were two men of the highest rank, the one, the best speaker in the house of lords, the other, the best speaker in the house of commons, differing entirely.' i again visited him at night. finding him in a very good humour, i ventured to lead him to the subject of our situation in a future state, having much curiosity to know his notions on that point. johnson. 'why, sir, the happiness of an unembodied spirit will consist in a consciousness of the favour of god, in the contemplation of truth, and in the possession of felicitating ideas.' boswell. 'but, sir, is there any harm in our forming to ourselves conjectures as to the particulars of our happiness, though the scripture has said but very little on the subject? "we know not what we shall be."' johnson. 'sir, there is no harm. what philosophy suggests to us on this topick is probable: what scripture tells us is certain. dr. henry more[ ] has carried it as far as philosophy can. you may buy both his theological and philosophical works in two volumes folio, for about eight shillings.' boswell. 'one of the most pleasing thoughts is, that we shall see our friends again.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but you must consider, that when we are become purely rational, many of our friendships will be cut off. many friendships are formed by a community of sensual pleasures: all these will be cut off. we form many friendships with bad men, because they have agreeable qualities, and they can be useful to us; but, after death, they can no longer be of use to us. we form many friendships by mistake, imagining people to be different from what they really are. after death, we shall see every one in a true light. then, sir, they talk of our meeting our relations: but then all relationship is dissolved; and we shall have no regard for one person more than another, but for their real value. however, we shall either have the satisfaction of meeting our friends, or be satisfied without meeting them[ ].' boswell. 'yet, sir, we see in scripture, that dives still retained an anxious concern about his brethren.' johnson. 'why, sir, we must either suppose that passage to be metaphorical, or hold with many divines, and all the purgatorians that departed souls do not all at once arrive at the utmost perfection of which they are capable.' boswell. 'i think, sir, that is a very rational supposition.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir; but we do not know it is a true one. there is no harm in believing it: but you must not compel others to make it an article of faith; for it is not revealed.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, it is wrong in a man who holds the doctrine of purgatory, to pray for the souls of his deceased friends?' johnson. 'why, no, sir[ ].' boswell. 'i have been told, that in the liturgy of the episcopal church of scotland, there was a form of prayer for the dead.' johnson. 'sir, it is not in the liturgy which laud framed for the episcopal church of scotland: if there is a liturgy older than that, i should be glad to see it.' boswell. 'as to our employment in a future state, the sacred writings say little. the revelation, however, of st. john gives us many ideas, and particularly mentions musick[ ].' johnson. 'why, sir, ideas must be given you by means of something which you know[ ]: and as to musick there are some philosophers and divines who have maintained that we shall not be spiritualized to such a degree, but that something of matter, very much refined, will remain. in that case, musick may make a part of our future felicity.' boswell. 'i do not know whether there are any well-attested stories of the appearance of ghosts. you know there is a famous story of the appearance of mrs. veal, prefixed to _drelincourt on death_.' johnson. 'i believe, sir, that is given up. i believe the woman declared upon her death-bed that it was a lie[ ].' boswell. 'this objection is made against the truth of ghosts appearing: that if they are in a state of happiness, it would be a punishment to them to return to this world; and if they are in a state of misery, it would be giving them a respite.' johnson. 'why, sir, as the happiness or misery of embodied spirits does not depend upon place, but is intellectual, we cannot say that they are less happy or less miserable by appearing upon earth.' we went down between twelve and one to mrs. williams's room, and drank tea. i mentioned that we were to have the remains of mr. gray, in prose and verse, published by mr. mason[ ]. johnson. 'i think we have had enough of gray. i see they have published a splendid edition of akenside's works. one bad ode may be suffered; but a number of them together makes one sick[ ].' boswell. 'akenside's distinguished poem is his _pleasures of imagination_: but for my part, i never could admire it so much as most people do.' johnson. 'sir, i could not read it through.' boswell. 'i have read it through; but i did not find any great power in it.' i mentioned elwal, the heretick, whose trial sir john pringle[ ] had given me to read. johnson. 'sir, mr. elwal was, i think, an ironmonger at wolverhampton; and he had a mind to make himself famous, by being the founder of a new sect, which he wished much should be called _elwallians_. he held, that every thing in the old testament that was not typical, was to be of perpetual observance; and so he wore a ribband in the plaits of his coat, and he also wore a beard. i remember i had the honour of dining in company with mr. elwal. there was one barter, a miller, who wrote against him; and you had the controversy between mr. elwal and mr. barter. to try to make himself distinguished, he wrote a letter to king george the second, challenging him to dispute with him, in which he said, "george, if you be afraid to come by yourself, to dispute with a poor old man, you may bring a thousand of your _black_-guards with you; and if you should still be afraid, you may bring a thousand of your _red_-guards." the letter had something of the impudence of junius to our present king. but the men of wolverhampton were not so inflammable as the common-council of london[ ]; so mr. elwal failed in his scheme of making himself a man of great consequence[ ].' on tuesday, march , he and i dined at general paoli's. a question was started, whether the state of marriage was natural to man. johnson. 'sir, it is so far from being natural for a man and woman to live in a state of marriage, that we find all the motives which they have for remaining in that connection, and the restraints which civilized society imposes to prevent separation, are hardly sufficient to keep them together.' the general said, that in a state of nature a man and woman uniting together, would form a strong and constant affection, by the mutual pleasure each would receive; and that the same causes of dissention would not arise between them, as occur between husband and wife in a civilized state. johnson. 'sir, they would have dissentions enough, though of another kind. one would choose to go a hunting in this wood, the other in that; one would choose to go a fishing in this lake, the other in that; or, perhaps, one would choose to go a hunting, when the other would choose to go a fishing; and so they would part. besides, sir, a savage man and a savage woman meet by chance; and when the man sees another woman that pleases him better, he will leave the first.' we then fell into a disquisition whether there is any beauty independent of utility. the general maintained there was not. dr. johnson maintained that there was; and he instanced a coffee-cup which he held in his hand, the painting of which was of no real use, as the cup would hold the coffee equally well if plain; yet the painting was beautiful. we talked of the strange custom of swearing in conversation[ ]. the general said, that all barbarous nations swore from a certain violence of temper, that could not be confined to earth, but was always reaching at the powers above. he said, too, that there was greater variety of swearing, in proportion as there was a greater variety of religious ceremonies. dr. johnson went home with me to my lodgings in conduit-street and drank tea, previous to our going to the pantheon, which neither of us had seen before. he said, 'goldsmith's _life of parnell_[ ] is poor; not that it is poorly written, but that he had poor materials; for nobody can write the life of a man, but those who have eat and drunk and lived in social intercourse with him.' i said, that if it was not troublesome and presuming too much, i would request him to tell me all the little circumstances of his life; what schools he attended, when he came to oxford, when he came to london, &c. &c. he did not disapprove of my curiosity as to these particulars; but said, 'they'll come out by degrees as we talk together[ ].' he censured ruffhead's _life of pope_[ ]; and said, 'he knew nothing of pope, and nothing of poetry.' he praised dr. joseph warton's essay on pope[ ]; but said, he supposed we should have no more of it, as the authour had not been able to persuade the world to think of pope as he did. boswell. 'why, sir, should that prevent him from continuing his work? he is an ingenious counsel, who has made the most of his cause: he is not obliged to gain it.' johnson. 'but, sir, there is a difference when the cause is of a man's own making.' we talked of the proper use of riches. johnson. 'if i were a man of a great estate, i would drive all the rascals whom i did not like out of the county at an election[ ].' i asked him how far he thought wealth should be employed in hospitality. johnson. 'you are to consider that ancient hospitality, of which we hear so much, was in an uncommercial country, when men being idle, were glad to be entertained at rich men's tables. but in a commercial country, a busy country, time becomes precious, and therefore hospitality is not so much valued. no doubt there is still room for a certain degree of it; and a man has a satisfaction in seeing his friends eating and drinking around him. but promiscuous hospitality is not the way to gain real influence. you must help some people at table before others; you must ask some people how they like their wine oftener than others. you therefore offend more people than you please. you are like the french statesman, who said, when he granted a favour, '_j' ai fait dix mecontents et un ingrat_[ ].' besides, sir, being entertained ever so well at a man's table, impresses no lasting regard or esteem. no, sir, the way to make sure of power and influence is, by lending money confidentially to your neighbours at a small interest, or, perhaps, at no interest at all, and having their bonds in your possession[ ].' boswell. 'may not a man, sir, employ his riches to advantage in educating young men of merit?' johnson. 'yes, sir, if they fall in your way; but if it be understood that you patronize young men of merit, you will be harassed with solicitations. you will have numbers forced upon you who have no merit; some will force them upon you from mistaken partiality; and some from downright interested motives, without scruple; and you will be disgraced.' 'were i a rich man, i would propagate all kinds of trees that will grow in the open air. a greenhouse is childish. i would introduce foreign animals into the country; for instance the reindeer[ ].' the conversation now turned on critical subjects. johnson. 'bayes, in _the rehearsal_, is a mighty silly character. if it was intended to be like a particular man, it could only be diverting while that man was remembered. but i question whether it was meant for dryden, as has been reported; for we know some of the passages said to be ridiculed, were written since _the rehearsal_; at least a passage mentioned in the preface[ ] is of a later date.' i maintained that it had merit as a general satire on the self-importance of dramatick authours. but even in this light he held it very cheap. we then walked to the pantheon. the first view of it did not strike us so much as ranelagh, of which he said, the '_coup d'oeil_ was the finest thing he had ever seen.' the truth is, ranelagh is of a more beautiful form; more of it, or rather indeed the whole _rotunda_, appears at once, and it is better lighted. however, as johnson observed, we saw the pantheon in time of mourning, when there was a dull uniformity; whereas we had seen ranelagh when the view was enlivened with a gay profusion of colours[ ]. mrs. bosville[ ], of gunthwait, in yorkshire, joined us, and entered into conversation with us. johnson said to me afterwards, 'sir, this is a mighty intelligent lady.' i said there was not half a guinea's worth of pleasure in seeing this place. johnson. 'but, sir, there is half a guinea's worth of inferiority to other people in not having seen it.' boswell. 'i doubt, sir, whether there are many happy people here.' johnson. 'yes, sir, there are many happy people here. there are many people here who are watching hundreds, and who think hundreds are watching them[ ].' happening to meet sir adam fergusson[ ], i presented him to dr. johnson. sir adam expressed some apprehension that the pantheon would encourage luxury. 'sir, (said johnson,) i am a great friend to publick amusements; for they keep people from vice. you now (addressing himself to me,) would have been with a wench, had you not been here.--o! i forgot you were married.' sir adam suggested, that luxury corrupts a people, and destroys the spirit of liberty. johnson. 'sir, that is all visionary. i would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. it is of no moment to the happiness of an individual[ ]. sir, the danger of the abuse of power is nothing to a private man. what frenchman is prevented from passing his life as he pleases?' sir adam. 'but, sir, in the british constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as to preserve a balance against the crown.' johnson. 'sir, i perceive you are a vile whig. why all this childish jealousy of the power of the crown? the crown has not power enough. when i say that all governments are alike, i consider that in no government power can be abused long. mankind will not bear it. if a sovereign oppresses his people to a great degree, they will rise and cut off his head. there is a remedy in human nature against tyranny, that will keep us safe under every form of government[ ]. had not the people of france thought themselves honoured as sharing in the brilliant actions of lewis xiv, they would not have endured him; and we may say the same of the king of prussia's people.' sir adam introduced the ancient greeks and romans. johnson. 'sir, the mass of both of them were barbarians. the mass of every people must be barbarous where there is no printing, and consequently knowledge is not generally diffused. knowledge is diffused among our people by the news-papers[ ].' sir adam mentioned the orators, poets, and artists of greece. johnson. 'sir, i am talking of the mass of the people. we see even what the boasted athenians were. the little effect which demosthenes's orations had upon them, shews that they were barbarians[ ].' sir adam was unlucky in his topicks; for he suggested a doubt of the propriety of bishops having seats in the house of lords. johnson. 'how so, sir? who is more proper for having the dignity of a peer, than a bishop, provided a bishop be what he ought to be; and if improper bishops be made, that is not the fault of the bishops, but of those who make them.' on sunday, april , after attending divine service at st. paul's church, i found him alone. of a schoolmaster[ ] of his acquaintance, a native of scotland, he said, 'he has a great deal of good about him; but he is also very defective in some respects. his inner part is good, but his outer part is mighty aukward. you in scotland do not attain that nice critical skill in languages, which we get in our schools in england. i would not put a boy to him, whom i intended for a man of learning. but for the sons of citizens, who are to learn a little, get good morals, and then go to trade, he may do very well.' i mentioned a cause in which i had appeared as counsel at the bar of the general assembly of the church of scotland, where a _probationer_[ ], (as one licensed to preach, but not yet ordained, is called,) was opposed in his application to be inducted, because it was alledged that he had been guilty of fornication five years before. johnson. 'why, sir, if he has repented, it is not a sufficient objection. a man who is good enough to go to heaven, is good enough to be a clergyman.' this was a humane and liberal sentiment. but the character of a clergyman is more sacred than that of an ordinary christian. as he is to instruct with authority, he should be regarded with reverence, as one upon whom divine truth has had the effect to set him above such transgressions, as men less exalted by spiritual habits, and yet upon the whole not to be excluded from heaven, have been betrayed into by the predominance of passion. that clergymen may be considered as sinners in general, as all men are, cannot be denied; but this reflection will not counteract their good precepts so much, as the absolute knowledge of their having been guilty of certain specifick immoral acts. i told him, that by the rules of the church of scotland, in their _book of discipline_, if a _scandal_, as it is called, is not prosecuted for five years, it cannot afterwards be proceeded upon, 'unless it be of a _heinous nature_, or again become flagrant;' and that hence a question arose, whether fornication was a sin of a heinous nature; and that i had maintained, that it did not deserve that epithet, in as much as it was not one of those sins which argue very great depravity of heart: in short, was not, in the general acceptation of mankind, a heinous sin. johnson. 'no, sir, it is not a heinous sin. a heinous sin is that for which a man is punished with death or banishment[ ].' boswell. 'but, sir, after i had argued that it was not an heinous sin, an old clergyman rose up, and repeating the text of scripture denouncing judgement against whoremongers[ ], asked, whether, considering this, there could be any doubt of fornication being a heinous sin.' johnson. 'why, sir, observe the word _whoremonger_. every sin, if persisted in, will become heinous. whoremonger is a dealer in whores[ ], as ironmonger is a dealer in iron. but as you don't call a man an ironmonger for buying and selling a pen-knife; so you don't call a man a whoremonger for getting one wench with child[ ].' i spoke of the inequality of the livings of the clergy in england, and the scanty provisions of some of the curates. johnson. 'why yes, sir; but it cannot be helped. you must consider, that the revenues of the clergy are not at the disposal of the state, like the pay of the army. different men have founded different churches; and some are better endowed, some worse. the state cannot interfere and make an equal division of what has been particularly appropriated. now when a clergyman has but a small living, or even two small livings, he can afford very little to a curate.' he said, he went more frequently to church when there were prayers only, than when there was also a sermon, as the people required more an example for the one than the other; it being much easier for them to hear a sermon, than to fix their minds on prayer. on monday, april , i dined with him at sir alexander macdonald's, where was a young officer in the regimentals of the scots royal, who talked with a vivacity, fluency, and precision so uncommon, that he attracted particular attention. he proved to be the honourable thomas erskine, youngest brother to the earl of buchan, who has since risen into such brilliant reputation at the bar in westminster-hall[ ]. fielding being mentioned, johnson exclaimed, 'he was a blockhead[ ];' and upon my expressing my astonishment at so strange an assertion, he said, 'what i mean by his being a blockhead is that he was a barren rascal.' boswell. 'will you not allow, sir, that he draws very natural pictures of human life?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is of very low life. richardson used to say, that had he not known who fielding was, he should have believed he was an ostler[ ]. sir, there is more knowledge of the heart in one letter of richardson's, than in all _tom jones_[ ]. i, indeed, never read _joseph andrews_[ ].' erskine, 'surely, sir, richardson is very tedious.' johnson. 'why, sir, if you were to read richardson for the story, your impatience would be so much fretted that you would hang yourself[ ]. but you must read him for the sentiment, and consider the story as only giving occasion to the sentiment.'--i have already given my opinion of fielding; but i cannot refrain from repeating here my wonder at johnson's excessive and unaccountable depreciation of one of the best writers that england has produced. _tom jones_ has stood the test of publick opinion with such success, as to have established its great merit, both for the story, the sentiments, and the manners, and also the varieties of diction, so as to leave no doubt of its having an animated truth of execution throughout[ ]. a book of travels, lately published under the title of _coriat junior_, and written by mr. paterson[ ], was mentioned. johnson said, this book was an imitation of sterne[ ], and not of coriat, whose name paterson had chosen as a whimsical one. 'tom coriat, (said he,) was a humourist about the court of james the first. he had a mixture of learning, of wit, and of buffoonery. he first travelled through europe, and published his travels[ ]. he afterwards travelled on foot through asia, and had made many remarks; but he died at mandoa, and his remarks were lost.' we talked of gaming, and animadverted on it with severity. johnson. 'nay, gentlemen, let us not aggravate the matter. it is not roguery to play with a man who is ignorant of the game, while you are master of it, and so win his money; for he thinks he can play better than you, as you think you can play better than he; and the superiour skill carries it.' erskine. 'he is a fool, but you are not a rogue.' johnson. 'that's much about the truth, sir. it must be considered, that a man who only does what every one of the society to which he belongs would do, is not a dishonest man. in the republick of sparta, it was agreed, that stealing was not dishonourable, if not discovered. i do not commend a society where there is an agreement that what would not otherwise be fair, shall be fair; but i maintain, that an individual of any society, who practises what is allowed, is not a dishonest man.' boswell. 'so then, sir, you do not think ill of a man who wins perhaps forty thousand pounds in a winter?' johnson. 'sir, i do not call a gamester a dishonest man; but i call him an unsocial man, an unprofitable man. gaming is a mode of transferring property without producing any intermediate good. trade gives employment to numbers, and so produces intermediate good.' mr. erskine told us, that when he was in the island of minorca, he not only read prayers, but preached two sermons to the regiment[ ]. he seemed to object to the passage in scripture where we are told that the angel of the lord smote in one night forty thousand assyrians[ ]. 'sir, (said johnson,) you should recollect that there was a supernatural interposition; they were destroyed by pestilence. you are not to suppose that the angel of the lord went about and stabbed each of them with a dagger, or knocked them on the head, man by man.' after mr. erskine was gone, a discussion took place, whether the present earl of buchan, when lord cardross, did right to refuse to go secretary of the embassy to spain, when sir james gray, a man of inferiour rank, went ambassadour[ ]. dr. johnson said, that perhaps in point of interest he did wrong; but in point of dignity he did well. sir alexander insisted that he was wrong; and said that mr. pitt intended it as an advantageous thing for him. 'why, sir, (said johnson,) mr. pitt might think it an advantageous thing for him to make him a vintner, and get him all the portugal trade; but he would have demeaned himself strangely had he accepted of such a situation. sir, had he gone secretary while his inferiour was ambassadour, he would have been a traitor to his rank and family.' i talked of the little attachment which subsisted between near relations in london. 'sir, (said johnson,) in a country so commercial as ours, where every man can do for himself, there is not so much occasion for that attachment. no man is thought the worse of here, whose brother was hanged. in uncommercial countries, many of the branches of a family must depend on the stock; so, in order to make the head of the family take care of them, they are represented as connected with his reputation, that, self-love being interested, he may exert himself to promote their interest. you have first large circles, or clans; as commerce increases, the connection is confined to families. by degrees, that too goes off, as having become unnecessary, and there being few opportunities of intercourse. one brother is a merchant in the city, and another is an officer in the guards. how little intercourse can these two have!' i argued warmly for the old feudal system[ ]. sir alexander opposed it, and talked of the pleasure of seeing all men free and independent. johnson. 'i agree with mr. boswell that there must be a high satisfaction in being a feudal lord; but we are to consider, that we ought not to wish to have a number of men unhappy for the satisfaction of one[ ].'--i maintained that numbers, namely, the vassals or followers, were not unhappy; for that there was a reciprocal satisfaction between the lord and them: he being kind in his authority over them; they being respectful and faithful to him. on thursday, april , i called on him to beg he would go and dine with me at the mitre tavern. he had resolved not to dine at all this day, i know not for what reason; and i was so unwilling to be deprived of his company, that i was content to submit to suffer a want, which was at first somewhat painful, but he soon made me forget it; and a man is always pleased with himself when he finds his intellectual inclinations predominate. he observed, that to reason philosophically on the nature of prayer, was very unprofitable. talking of ghosts[ ], he said, he knew one friend, who was an honest man and a sensible man, who told him he had seen a ghost, old mr. edward cave, the printer at st. john's gate. he said, mr. cave did not like to talk of it, and seemed to be in great horrour whenever it was mentioned. boswell. 'pray, sir, what did he say was the appearance?' johnson. 'why, sir, something of a shadowy being.' i mentioned witches, and asked him what they properly meant. johnson. 'why, sir, they properly mean those who make use of the aid of evil spirits.' boswell. 'there is no doubt, sir, a general report and belief of their having existed[ ].' johnson. 'you have not only the general report and belief, but you have many voluntary solemn confessions.' he did not affirm anything positively upon a subject which it is the fashion of the times to laugh at as a matter of absurd credulity. he only seemed willing, as a candid enquirer after truth, however strange and inexplicable, to shew that he understood what might be urged for it[ ]. on friday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, where we found dr. goldsmith. armorial bearings having been mentioned, johnson said they were as ancient as the siege of thebes, which he proved by a passage in one of the tragedies of euripides[ ]. i started the question whether duelling was consistent with moral duty. the brave old general fired at this, and said, with a lofty air, 'undoubtedly a man has a right to defend his honour.' goldsmith, (turning to me.) 'i ask you first, sir, what would you do if you were affronted?' i answered i should think it necessary to fight[ ]. 'why then, (replied goldsmith,) that solves the question.' johnson. 'no, sir, it does not solve the question. it does not follow that what a man would do is therefore right.' i said, i wished to have it settled, whether duelling was contrary to the laws of christianity. johnson immediately entered on the subject, and treated it in a masterly manner; and so far as i have been able to recollect, his thoughts were these: 'sir, as men become in a high degree refined, various causes of offence arise; which are considered to be of such importance, that life must be staked to atone for them, though in reality they are not so. a body that has received a very fine polish may be easily hurt. before men arrive at this artificial refinement, if one tells his neighbour he lies, his neighbour tells him he lies; if one gives his neighbour a blow, his neighbour gives him a blow: but in a state of highly polished society, an affront is held to be a serious injury. it must therefore be resented, or rather a duel must be fought upon it; as men have agreed to banish from their society one who puts up with an affront without fighting a duel. now, sir, it is never unlawful to fight in self-defence. he, then, who fights a duel, does not fight from passion against his antagonist, but out of self-defence; to avert the stigma of the world, and to prevent himself from being driven out of society. i could wish there was not that superfluity of refinement; but while such notions prevail, no doubt a man may lawfully fight a duel[ ].' let it be remembered, that this justification is applicable only to the person who _receives_ an affront. all mankind must condemn the aggressor. the general told us, that when he was a very young man, i think only fifteen[ ], serving under prince eugene of savoy, he was sitting in a company at table with a prince of wirtemberg, the prince took up a glass of wine, and, by a fillip, made some of it fly in oglethorpe's face. here was a nice dilemma. to have challenged him instantly, might have fixed a quarrelsome character upon the young soldier: to have taken no notice of it might have been considered as cowardice. oglethorpe, therefore, keeping his eye upon the prince, and smiling all the time, as if he took what his highness had done in jest, said 'man prince,--'(i forget the french words he used, the purport however was.) 'that's a good joke; but we do it much better in england;' and threw a whole glass of wine in the prince's face. an old general who sat by, said, '_il a bien fait, mon prince, vous l'avez commencé_:' and thus all ended in good humour.' dr. johnson said, 'pray, general, give us an account of the siege of belgrade[ ].' upon which the general, pouring a little wine upon the table, described every thing with a wet finger: 'here we were, here were the turks,' &c. &c. johnson listened with the closest attention. a question was started, how far people who disagree in a capital point can live in friendship together. johnson said they might. goldsmith said they could not, as they had not the _idem velle atque idem nolle_[ ]-- the same likings and the same aversions. johnson. 'why, sir, you must shun the subject as to which you disagree. for instance, i can live very well with burke: i love his knowledge, his genius, his diffusion, and affluence of conversation; but i would not talk to him of the rockingham party.' goldsmith. 'but, sir, when people live together who have something as to which they disagree, and which they want to shun, they will be in the situation mentioned in the story of bluebeard: "you may look into all the chambers but one." but we should have the greatest inclination to look into that chamber, to talk of that subject.' johnson, (with a loud voice.) 'sir, i am not saying that _you_ could live in friendship with a man from whom you differ as to some point: i am only saying that _i_ could do it. you put me in mind of sappho in ovid[ ].' goldsmith told us, that he was now busy in writing a natural history[ ], and, that he might have full leisure for it, he had taken lodgings, at a farmer's house, near to the six mile-stone, on the edgeware road, and had carried down his books in two returned post-chaises. he said, he believed the farmer's family thought him an odd character, similar to that in which the _spectator_ appeared to his landlady and her children: he was _the gentleman_[ ]. mr. mickle, the translator of _the lusiad_[ ], and i went to visit him at this place a few days afterwards. he was not at home; but having a curiosity to see his apartment, we went in and found curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil[ ]. the subject of ghosts being introduced, johnson repeated what he had told me of a friend of his, an honest man, and a man of sense, having asserted to him, that he had seen an apparition[ ]. goldsmith told us, he was assured by his brother, the reverend mr. goldsmith, that he also had seen one. general oglethorpe told us, that prendergast, an officer in the duke of marlborough's army, had mentioned to many of his friends, that he should die on a particular day. that upon that day a battle took place with the french; that after it was over, and prendergast was still alive, his brother officers, while they were yet in the field, jestingly asked him, where was his prophecy now. prendergast gravely answered. 'i shall die, notwithstanding what you see.' soon afterwards, there came a shot from a french battery, to which the orders for a cessation of arms had not yet reached, and he was killed upon the spot. colonel cecil, who took possession of his effects, found in his pocket-book the following solemn entry: [here the date.] 'dreamt--or ----.[ ] sir john friend meets me:' (here the very day on which he was killed, was mentioned.) prendergast had been connected with sir john friend, who was executed for high treason. general oglethorpe said, he was with colonel cecil when pope came and enquired into the truth of this story, which made a great noise at the time, and was then confirmed by the colonel. on saturday, april , he appointed me to come to him in the evening, when he should be at leisure to give me some assistance for the defence of hastie, the schoolmaster of campbelltown, for whom i was to appear in the house of lords. when i came, i found him unwilling to exert himself. i pressed him to write down his thoughts upon the subject. he said, 'there's no occasion for my writing. i'll talk to you.' he was, however, at last prevailed on to dictate to me, while i wrote as follows:-- 'the charge is, that he has used immoderate and cruel correction. correction, in itself, is not cruel; children, being not reasonable, can be governed only by fear. to impress this fear, is therefore one of the first duties of those who have the care of children. it is the duty of a parent; and has never been thought inconsistent with parental tenderness. it is the duty of a master, who is in his highest exaltation when he is _loco parentis_. yet, as good things become evil by excess, correction, by being immoderate, may become cruel. but when is correction immoderate? when it is more frequent or more severe than is required _ad monendum et docendum_, for reformation and instruction. no severity is cruel which obstinacy makes necessary; for the greatest cruelty would be to desist, and leave the scholar too careless for instruction, and too much hardened for reproof. locke, in his treatise of education, mentions a mother, with applause, who whipped an infant eight times before she had subdued it; for had she stopped at the seventh act of correction, her daughter, says he, would have been ruined[ ]. the degrees of obstinacy in young minds, are very different; as different must be the degrees of persevering severity. a stubborn scholar must be corrected till he is subdued. the discipline of a school is military. there must be either unbounded licence or absolute authority. the master, who punishes, not only consults the future happiness of him who is the immediate subject of correction; but he propagates obedience through the whole school; and establishes regularity by exemplary justice. the victorious obstinacy of a single boy would make his future endeavours of reformation or instruction totally ineffectual. obstinacy, therefore, must never be victorious. yet, it is well known, that there sometimes occurs a sullen and hardy resolution, that laughs at all common punishment, and bids defiance to all common degrees of pain. correction must be proportioned to occasions. the flexible will be reformed by gentle discipline, and the refractory must be subdued by harsher methods. the degrees of scholastick, as of military punishment, no stated rules can ascertain. it must be enforced till it overpowers temptation; till stubbornness becomes flexible, and perverseness regular. custom and reason have, indeed, set some bounds to scholastick penalties. the schoolmaster inflicts no capital punishments; nor enforces his edicts by either death or mutilation. the civil law has wisely determined, that a master who strikes at a scholar's eye shall be considered as criminal. but punishments, however severe, that produce no lasting evil, may be just and reasonable, because they may be necessary. such have been the punishments used by the respondent. no scholar has gone from him either blind or lame, or with any of his limbs or powers injured or impaired. they were irregular, and he punished them: they were obstinate, and he enforced his punishment. but, however provoked, he never exceeded the limits of moderation, for he inflicted nothing beyond present pain; and how much of that was required, no man is so little able to determine as those who have determined against him;--the parents of the offenders. it has been said, that he used unprecedented and improper instruments of correction. of this accusation the meaning is not very easy to be found. no instrument of correction is more proper than another, but as it is better adapted to produce present pain without lasting mischief. whatever were his instruments, no lasting mischief has ensued; and therefore, however unusual, in hands so cautious they were proper. it has been objected, that the respondent admits the charge of cruelty, by producing no evidence to confute it. let it be considered, that his scholars are either dispersed at large in the world, or continue to inhabit the place in which they were bred. those who are dispersed cannot be found; those who remain are the sons of his persecutors, and are not likely to support a man to whom their fathers are enemies. if it be supposed that the enmity of their fathers proves the justice of the charge, it must be considered how often experience shews us, that men who are angry on one ground will accuse on another; with how little kindness, in a town of low trade, a man who lives by learning is regarded; and how implicitly, where the inhabitants are not very rich, a rich man is hearkened to and followed. in a place like campbelltown, it is easy for one of the principal inhabitants to make a party. it is easy for that party to heat themselves with imaginary grievances. it is easy for them to oppress a man poorer than themselves; and natural to assert the dignity of riches, by persisting in oppression. the argument which attempts to prove the impropriety of restoring him to the school, by alledging that he has lost the confidence of the people, is not the subject of juridical consideration; for he is to suffer, if he must suffer, not for their judgement, but for his own actions. it may be convenient for them to have another master; but it is a convenience of their own making. it would be likewise convenient for him to find another school; but this convenience he cannot obtain. the question is not what is now convenient, but what is generally right. if the people of campbelltown be distressed by the restoration of the respondent, they are distressed only by their own fault; by turbulent passions and unreasonable desires; by tyranny, which law has defeated, and by malice, which virtue has surmounted.' 'this, sir, (said he,) you are to turn in your mind, and make the best use of it you can in your speech.' of our friend, goldsmith, he said, 'sir, he is so much afraid of being unnoticed, that he often talks merely lest you should forget that he is in the company.' boswell. 'yes, he stands forward.' johnson. 'true, sir; but if a man is to stand forward, he should wish to do it not in an aukward posture, not in rags, not so as that he shall only be exposed to ridicule.' boswell. 'for my part, i like very well to hear honest goldsmith talk away carelessly.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but he should not like to hear himself.' on tuesday, april , the decree of the court of session in the schoolmaster's cause was reversed in the house of lords, after a very eloquent speech by lord mansfield, who shewed himself an adept in school discipline, but i thought was too rigorous towards my client[ ]. on the evening of the next day i supped with dr. johnson, at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, in company with mr. langton and his brother-in-law, lord binning. i repeated a sentence of lord mansfield's speech, of which, by the aid of mr. longlands, the solicitor on the other side, who obligingly allowed me to compare his note with my own, i have a full copy: 'my lords, severity is not the way to govern either boys or men.' 'nay, (said johnson,) it is the way to _govern_ them. i know not whether it be the way to _mend_ them.' i talked of the recent expulsion of six students from the university of oxford, who were methodists and would not desist from publickly praying and exhorting[ ]. johnson. 'sir, that expulsion was extremely just and proper[ ]. what have they to do at an university who are not willing to be taught, but will presume to teach? where is religion to be learnt but at an university? sir, they were examined, and found to be mighty ignorant fellows.' boswell. 'but, was it not hard, sir, to expel them, for i am told they were good beings?' johnson. 'i believe they might be good beings; but they were not fit to be in the university of oxford[ ]. a cow is a very good animal in the field; but we turn her out of a garden.' lord elibank used to repeat this as an illustration uncommonly happy. desirous of calling johnson forth to talk, and exercise his wit, though i should myself be the object of it, i resolutely ventured to undertake the defence of convivial indulgence in wine, though he was not to-night in the most genial humour[ ]. after urging the common plausible topicks, i at last had recourse to the maxim, _in vino veritas_, a man who is well warmed with wine will speak truth[ ]. johnson. 'why, sir, that may be an argument for drinking, if you suppose men in general to be liars. but, sir, i would not keep company with a fellow, who lyes as long as he is sober, and whom you must make drunk before you can get a word of truth out of him[ ].' mr. langton told us he was about to establish a school upon his estate, but it had been suggested to him, that it might have a tendency to make the people less industrious. johnson. 'no, sir. while learning to read and write is a distinction, the few who have that distinction may be the less inclined to work; but when every body learns to read and write, it is no longer a distinction[ ]. a man who has a laced waistcoat is too fine a man to work; but if every body had laced waistcoats, we should have people working in laced waistcoats. there are no people whatever more industrious, none who work more, than our manufacturers[ ]; yet they have all learnt to read and write. sir, you must not neglect doing a thing immediately good, from fear of remote evil;--from fear of its being abused[ ]. a man who has candles may sit up too late, which he would not do if he had not candles; but nobody will deny that the art of making candles, by which light is continued to us beyond the time that the sun gives us light, is a valuable art, and ought to be preserved.' boswell. 'but, sir, would it not be better to follow nature; and go to bed and rise just as nature gives us light or with-holds it?' johnson. 'no, sir; for then we should have no kind of equality in the partition of our time between sleeping and waking. it would be very different in different seasons and in different places. in some of the northern parts of scotland how little light is there in the depth of winter!' we talked of tacitus[ ], and i hazarded an opinion, that with all his merit for penetration, shrewdness of judgement, and terseness of expression, he was too compact, too much broken into hints, as it were, and therefore too difficult to be understood. to my great satisfaction, dr. johnson sanctioned this opinion. 'tacitus, sir, seems to me rather to have made notes for an historical work, than to have written a history[ ].' at this time it appears from his _prayers and meditations_, that he had been more than commonly diligent in religious duties, particularly in reading the holy scriptures. it was passion week, that solemn season which the christian world has appropriated to the commemoration of the mysteries of our redemption, and during which, whatever embers of religion are in our breasts, will be kindled into pious warmth. i paid him short visits both on friday and saturday, and seeing his large folio greek testament before him, beheld him with a reverential awe, and would not intrude upon his time[ ]. while he was thus employed to such good purpose, and while his friends in their intercourse with him constantly found a vigorous intellect and a lively imagination, it is melancholy to read in his private register, 'my mind is unsettled and my memory confused. i have of late turned my thoughts with a very useless earnestness upon past incidents. i have yet got no command over my thoughts; an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hinder my rest[ ].' what philosophick heroism was it in him to appear with such manly fortitude to the world, while he was inwardly so distressed! we may surely believe that the mysterious principle of being 'made perfect through suffering[ ]' was to be strongly exemplified in him. on sunday, april , being easter-day, general paoli and i paid him a visit before dinner. we talked of the notion that blind persons can distinguish colours by the touch. johnson said, that professor sanderson[ ] mentions his having attempted to do it, but that he found he was aiming at an impossibility; that to be sure a difference in the surface makes the difference of colours; but that difference is so fine, that it is not sensible to the touch. the general mentioned jugglers and fraudulent gamesters, who could know cards by the touch. dr. johnson said, 'the cards used by such persons must be less polished than ours commonly are.' we talked of sounds. the general said, there was no beauty in a simple sound, but only in an harmonious composition of sounds. i presumed to differ from this opinion, and mentioned the soft and sweet sound of a fine woman's voice. johnson. 'no, sir, if a serpent or a toad uttered it, you would think it ugly.' boswell. 'so you would think, sir, were a beautiful tune to be uttered by one of those animals.' johnson. 'no, sir, it would be admired. we have seen fine fiddlers whom we liked as little as toads.' (laughing.) talking on the subject of taste in the arts, he said, that difference of taste was, in truth, difference of skill[ ]. boswell. 'but, sir, is there not a quality called taste[ ], which consists merely in perception or in liking? for instance, we find people differ much as to what is the best style of english composition. some think swift's the best; others prefer a fuller and grander way of writing.' johnson. 'sir, you must first define what you mean by style, before you can judge who has a good taste in style, and who has a bad. the two classes of persons whom you have mentioned don't differ as to good and bad. they both agree that swift has a good neat style[ ]; but one loves a neat style, another loves a style of more splendour. in like manner, one loves a plain coat, another loves a laced coat; but neither will deny that each is good in its kind.' while i remained in london this spring, i was with him at several other times, both by himself and in company. i dined with him one day at the crown and anchor tavern, in the strand, with lord elibank, mr. langton, and dr. vansittart of oxford. without specifying each particular day, i have preserved the following memorable things. i regretted the reflection in his preface to shakspeare against garrick, to whom we cannot but apply the following passage: 'i collated such copies as i could procure, and wished for more, but have not found the collectors of these rarities very communicative[ ].' i told him, that garrick had complained to me of it, and had vindicated himself by assuring me, that johnson was made welcome to the full use of his collection, and that he left the key of it with a servant, with orders to have a fire and every convenience for him. i found johnson's notion was, that garrick wanted to be courted for them, and that, on the contrary, garrick should have courted him, and sent him the plays of his own accord. but, indeed, considering the slovenly and careless manner in which books were treated by johnson, it could not be expected that scarce and valuable editions should have been lent to him[ ]. a gentleman[ ] having to some of the usual arguments for drinking added this: 'you know, sir, drinking drives away care, and makes us forget whatever is disagreeable. would not you allow a man to drink for that reason?' johnson. 'yes, sir, if he sat next _you_.' i expressed a liking for mr. francis osborne's works, and asked him what he thought of that writer. he answered, 'a conceited fellow. were a man to write so now, the boys would throw stones at him.' he, however, did not alter my opinion of a favourite authour, to whom i was first directed by his being quoted in the spectator[ ], and in whom i have found much shrewd and lively sense, expressed indeed in a style somewhat quaint, which, however, i do not dislike. his book has an air of originality. we figure to ourselves an ancient gentleman talking to us. when one of his friends endeavoured to maintain that a country gentleman might contrive to pass his life very agreeably, 'sir (said he,) you cannot give me an instance of any man who is permitted to lay out his own time, contriving not to have tedious hours[ ].' this observation, however, is equally applicable to gentlemen who live in cities, and are of no profession. he said, 'there is no permanent national character; it varies according to circumstances. alexander the great swept india: now the turks sweep greece.' a learned gentleman who in the course of conversation wished to inform us of this simple fact, that the counsel upon the circuit at shrewsbury were much bitten by fleas, took, i suppose, seven or eight minutes in relating it circumstantially. he in a plenitude of phrase told us, that large bales of woollen cloth were lodged in the town-hall;--that by reason of this, fleas nestled there in prodigious numbers; that the lodgings of the counsel were near to the town-hall;--and that those little animals moved from place to place with wonderful agility. johnson sat in great impatience till the gentleman had finished his tedious narrative, and then burst out (playfully however,) 'it is a pity, sir, that you have not seen a lion; for a flea has taken you such a time, that a lion must have served you a twelve-month[ ].' he would not allow scotland to derive any credit from lord mansfield; for he was educated in england. 'much (said he,) may be made of a scotchman, if he be _caught_ young[ ].' talking of a modern historian and a modern moralist, he said, 'there is more thought in the moralist than in the historian. there is but a shallow stream of thought in history.' boswell. 'but surely, sir, an historian has reflection.' johnson. 'why yes, sir; and so has a cat when she catches a mouse for her kitten. but she cannot write like ****; neither can ****.'[ ] he said, 'i am very unwilling to read the manuscripts of authours, and give them my opinion[ ]. if the authours who apply to me have money, i bid them boldly print without a name; if they have written in order to get money, i tell them to go to the booksellers, and make the best bargain they can.' boswell. 'but, sir, if a bookseller should bring you a manuscript to look at?' johnson. 'why, sir, i would desire the bookseller to take it away.' i mentioned a friend of mine who had resided long in spain, and was unwilling to return to britain. johnson. 'sir, he is attached to some woman.' boswell. 'i rather believe, sir, it is the fine climate which keeps him there.' johnson. 'nay, sir, how can you talk so? what is climate to happiness[ ]? place me in the heart of asia, should i not be exiled? what proportion does climate bear to the complex system of human life? you may advise me to go to live at bologna to eat sausages. the sausages there are the best in the world; they lose much by being carried.' on saturday, may , mr. dempster[ ] and i had agreed to dine by ourselves at the british coffee-house. johnson, on whom i happened to call in the morning, said he would join us, which he did, and we spent a very agreeable day, though i recollect but little of what passed. he said, 'walpole was a minister given by the king to the people: pitt was a minister given by the people to the king,--as an adjunct.' 'the misfortune of goldsmith in conversation is this: he goes on without knowing how he is to get off. his genius is great, but his knowledge is small. as they say of a generous man, it is a pity he is not rich, we may say of goldsmith, it is a pity he is not knowing. he would not keep his knowledge to himself.' before leaving london this year, i consulted him upon a question purely of scotch law. it was held of old, and continued for a long period, to be an established principle in that law, that whoever intermeddled with the effects of a person deceased, without the interposition of legal authority to guard against embezzlement, should be subjected to pay all the debts of the deceased, as having been guilty of what was technically called _vicious intromission_. the court of session had gradually relaxed the strictness of this principle, where the interference proved had been inconsiderable. in a case[ ] which came before that court the preceding winter, i had laboured to persuade the judges to return to the ancient law. it was my own sincere opinion, that they ought to adhere to it; but i had exhausted all my powers of reasoning in vain. johnson thought as i did; and in order to assist me in my application to the court for a revision and alteration of the judgement, he dictated to me the following argument:-- 'this, we are told, is a law which has its force only from the long practice of the court: and may, therefore, be suspended or modified as the court shall think proper. 'concerning the power of the court to make or to suspend a law, we have no intention to inquire. it is sufficient for our purpose that every just law is dictated by reason; and that the practice of every legal court is regulated by equity. it is the quality of reason to be invariable and constant; and of equity, to give to one man what, in the same case, is given to another. the advantage which humanity derives from law is this: that the law gives every man a rule of action, and prescribes a mode of conduct which shall entitle him to the support and protection of society. that the law may be a rule of action, it is necessary that it be known; it is necessary that it be permanent and stable. the law is the measure of civil right; but if the measure be changeable, the extent of the thing measured never can be settled. 'to permit a law to be modified at discretion, is to leave the community without law. it is to withdraw the direction of that publick wisdom, by which the deficiencies of private understanding are to be supplied. it is to suffer the rash and ignorant to act at discretion, and then to depend for the legality of that action on the sentence of the judge. he that is thus governed, lives not by law, but by opinion: not by a certain rule to which he can apply his intention before he acts, but by an uncertain and variable opinion, which he can never know but after he has committed the act on which that opinion shall be passed. he lives by a law, (if a law it be,) which he can never know before he has offended it. to this case may be justly applied that important principle, _misera est servitus ubi jus est aut incognitum aut vagum_. if intromission be not criminal till it exceeds a certain point, and that point be unsettled, and consequently different in different minds, the right of intromission, and the right of the creditor arising from it, are all _jura vaga_, and, by consequence, are _jura incognita_; and the result can be no other than a _misera servitus_, an uncertainty concerning the event of action, a servile dependence on private opinion. 'it may be urged, and with great plausibility, that there may be intromission without fraud; which, however true, will by no means justify an occasional and arbitrary relaxation of the law. the end of law is protection as well as vengeance. indeed, vengeance is never used but to strengthen protection. that society only is well governed, where life is freed from danger and from suspicion; where possession is so sheltered by salutary prohibitions, that violation is prevented more frequently than punished. such a prohibition was this, while it operated with its original force. the creditor of the deceased was not only without loss, but without fear. he was not to seek a remedy for an injury suffered; for, injury was warded off. 'as the law has been sometimes administered, it lays us open to wounds, because it is imagined to have the power of healing. to punish fraud when it is detected, is the proper act of vindictive justice; but to prevent frauds, and make punishment unnecessary, is the great employment of legislative wisdom. to permit intromission, and to punish fraud, is to make law no better than a pitfall. to tread upon the brink is safe; but to come a step further is destruction. but, surely, it is better to enclose the gulf, and hinder all access, than by encouraging us to advance a little, to entice us afterwards a little further, and let us perceive our folly only by our destruction. 'as law supplies the weak with adventitious strength, it likewise enlightens the ignorant with extrinsick understanding. law teaches us to know when we commit injury, and when we suffer it. it fixes certain marks upon actions, by which we are admonished to do or to forbear them. _qui sibi bene temperat in licitis_, says one of the fathers, _nunquam cadet in illicita_. he who never intromits at all, will never intromit with fraudulent intentions. 'the relaxation of the law against vicious intromission has been very favourably represented by a great master of jurisprudence[ ], whose words have been exhibited with unnecessary pomp, and seem to be considered as irresistibly decisive. the great moment of his authority makes it necessary to examine his position. "some ages ago, (says he,) before the ferocity of the inhabitants of this part of the island was subdued, the utmost severity of the civil law was necessary, to restrain individuals from plundering each other. thus, the man who intermeddled irregularly with the moveables of a person deceased, was subjected to all the debts of the deceased without limitation. this makes a branch of the law of scotland, known by the name of _vicious intromission_; and so rigidly was this regulation applied in our courts of law, that the most trifling moveable abstracted _mala fide_, subjected the intermeddler to the foregoing consequences, which proved in many instances a most rigorous punishment. but this severity was necessary, in order to subdue the undisciplined nature of our people. it is extremely remarkable, that in proportion to our improvement in manners, this regulation has been gradually softened, and applied by our sovereign court with a sparing hand." 'i find myself under a necessity of observing, that this learned and judicious writer has not accurately distinguished the deficiencies and demands of the different conditions of human life, which, from a degree of savageness and independence, in which all laws are vain, passes or may pass, by innumerable gradations, to a state of reciprocal benignity, in which laws shall be no longer necessary. men are first wild and unsocial, living each man to himself, taking from the weak, and losing to the strong. in their first coalitions of society, much of this original savageness is retained. of general happiness, the product of general confidence, there is yet no thought. men continue to prosecute their own advantages by the nearest way; and the utmost severity of the civil law is necessary to restrain individuals from plundering each other. the restraints then necessary, are restraints from plunder, from acts of publick violence, and undisguised oppression. the ferocity of our ancestors, as of all other nations, produced not fraud, but rapine. they had not yet learned to cheat, and attempted only to rob. as manners grow more polished, with the knowledge of good, men attain likewise dexterity in evil. open rapine becomes less frequent, and violence gives way to cunning. those who before invaded pastures and stormed houses, now begin to enrich themselves by unequal contracts and fraudulent intromissions. it is not against the violence of ferocity, but the circumventions of deceit, that this law was framed; and i am afraid the increase of commerce, and the incessant struggle for riches which commerce excites, give us no prospect of an end speedily to be expected of artifice and fraud. it therefore seems to be no very conclusive reasoning, which connects those two propositions;--"the nation is become less ferocious, and therefore the laws against fraud and _covin_[ ] shall be relaxed." 'whatever reason may have influenced the judges to a relaxation of the law, it was not that the nation was grown less fierce; and, i am afraid, it cannot be affirmed, that it is grown less fraudulent. 'since this law has been represented as rigorously and unreasonably penal, it seems not improper to consider what are the conditions and qualities that make the justice or propriety of a penal law. 'to make a penal law reasonable and just, two conditions are necessary, and two proper. it is necessary that the law should be adequate to its end; that, if it be observed, it shall prevent the evil against which it is directed. it is, secondly, necessary that the end of the law be of such importance, as to deserve the security of a penal sanction. the other conditions of a penal law, which though not absolutely necessary, are to a very high degree fit, are, that to the moral violation of the law there are many temptations, and that of the physical observance there is great facility. 'all these conditions apparently concur to justify the law which we are now considering. its end is the security of property; and property very often of great value. the method by which it effects the security is efficacious, because it admits, in its original rigour, no gradations of injury; but keeps guilt and innocence apart, by a distinct and definite limitation. he that intromits, is criminal; he that intromits not, is innocent. of the two secondary considerations it cannot be denied that both are in our favour. the temptation to intromit is frequent and strong; so strong and so frequent, as to require the utmost activity of justice, and vigilance of caution, to withstand its prevalence; and the method by which a man may entitle himself to legal intromission, is so open and so facile, that to neglect it is a proof of fraudulent intention: for why should a man omit to do (but for reasons which he will not confess,) that which he can do so easily, and that which he knows to be required by the law? if temptation were rare, a penal law might be deemed unnecessary. if the duty enjoined by the law were of difficult performance, omission, though it could not be justified, might be pitied. but in the present case, neither equity nor compassion operate against it. a useful, a necessary law is broken, not only without a reasonable motive, but with all the inducements to obedience that can be derived from safety and facility. 'i therefore return to my original position, that a law, to have its effect, must be permanent and stable. it may be said, in the language of the schools, _lex non recipit majus et minus_,--we may have a law, or we may have no law, but we cannot have half a law. we must either have a rule of action, or be permitted to act by discretion and by chance. deviations from the law must be uniformly punished, or no man can be certain when he shall be safe. 'that from the rigour of the original institution this court has sometimes departed, cannot be denied. but, as it is evident that such deviations, as they make law uncertain, make life unsafe, i hope, that of departing from it there will now be an end; that the wisdom of our ancestors will be treated with due reverence; and that consistent and steady decisions will furnish the people with a rule of action, and leave fraud and fraudulent intromission no future hope of impunity or escape.' with such comprehension of mind, and such clearness of penetration, did he thus treat a subject altogether new to him, without any other preparation than my having stated to him the arguments which had been used on each side of the question. his intellectual powers appeared with peculiar lustre, when tried against those of a writer of so much fame as lord kames, and that too in his lordship's own department[ ]. this masterly argument, after being prefaced and concluded with some sentences of my own, and garnished with the usual formularies, was actually printed and laid before the lords of session[ ], but without success. my respected friend lord hailes, however, one of that honourable body, had critical sagacity enough to discover a more than ordinary hand in the _petition_. i told him dr. johnson had favoured me with his pen. his lordship, with wonderful _acumen_, pointed out exactly where his composition began, and where it ended[ ]. but that i may do impartial justice, and conform to the great rule of courts, _suum cuique tribuito_, i must add, that their lordships in general, though they were pleased to call this 'a well-drawn paper,' preferred the former very inferiour petition which i had written; thus confirming the truth of an observation made to me by one of their number, in a merry mood: 'my dear sir, give yourself no trouble in the composition of the papers you present to us; for, indeed, it is casting pearls before swine.' i renewed my solicitations that dr. johnson would this year accomplish his long-intended visit to scotland. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'the regret has not been little with which i have missed a journey so pregnant with pleasing expectations, as that in which i could promise myself not only the gratification of curiosity, both rational and fanciful, but the delight of seeing those whom i love and esteem. but such has been the course of things, that i could not come; and such has been, i am afraid, the state of my body, that it would not well have seconded my inclination. my body, i think, grows better, and i refer my hopes to another year; for i am very sincere in my design to pay the visit, and take the ramble. in the mean time, do not omit any opportunity of keeping up a favourable opinion of me in the minds of any of my friends. beattie's book[ ] is, i believe, every day more liked; at least, i like it more, as i look more upon it. 'i am glad if you got credit by your cause, and am yet of opinion, that our cause was good, and that the determination ought to have been in your favour. poor hastie[ ], i think, had but his deserts. 'you promised to get me a little _pindar_, you may add to it a little _anacreon_. 'the leisure which i cannot enjoy, it will be a pleasure to hear that you employ upon the antiquities of the feudal establishment. the whole system of ancient tenures is gradually passing away; and i wish to have the knowledge of it preserved adequate and complete. for such an institution makes a very important part of the history of mankind. do not forget a design so worthy of a scholar who studies the laws of his country, and of a gentleman who may naturally be curious to know the condition of his own ancestors. 'i am, dear sir, 'yours with great affection, 'sam johnson.' 'august , [ ].' 'to dr. johnson. 'my dear sir, 'edinburgh, dec. , . * * * * * 'i was much disappointed that you did not come to scotland last autumn. however, i must own that your letter prevents me from complaining; not only because i am sensible that the state of your health was but too good an excuse, but because you write in a strain which shews that you have agreeable views of the scheme which we have so long proposed. * * * * * 'i communicated to beattie what you said of his book in your last letter to me. he writes to me thus:--"you judge very rightly in supposing that dr. johnson's favourable opinion of any book must give me great delight. indeed it is impossible for me to say how much i am gratified by it; for there is not a man upon earth whose good opinion i would be more ambitious to cultivate. his talents and his virtues i reverence more than any words can express. the extraordinary civilities[ ] (the paternal attentions i should rather say,) and the many instructions i have had the honour to receive from him, will to me be a perpetual source of pleasure in the recollection, '"_dum memor ipse mei, dum spiritus has reget artus_[ ]. '"i had still some thoughts, while the summer lasted, of being obliged to go to london on some little business; otherwise i should certainly have troubled him with a letter several months ago, and given some vent to my gratitude and admiration. this i intend to do, as soon as i am left a little at leisure. mean time, if you have occasion to write to him, i beg you will offer him my most respectful compliments, and assure him of the sincerity of my attachment and the warmth of my gratitude." * * * * * 'i am, &c. 'james boswell.' : aetat. .--in his only publication was an edition of his folio _dictionary_, with additions and corrections[ ]; nor did he, so far as is known, furnish any productions of his fertile pen to any of his numerous friends or dependants, except the preface[ ] to his old amanuensis macbean's _dictionary of ancient geography_.[ ] his _shakspeare_, indeed, which had been received with high approbation by the publick, and gone through several editions, was this year re-published by george steevens, esq., a gentleman not only deeply skilled in ancient learning, and of very extensive reading in english literature, especially the early writers, but at the same time of acute discernment and elegant taste.[ ] it is almost unnecessary to say, that by his great and valuable additions to dr. johnson's work, he justly obtained considerable reputation: '_divisum imperium cum jove caesar habet_.'[ ] 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have read your kind letter much more than the elegant _pindar_ which it accompanied. i am always glad to find myself not forgotten; and to be forgotten by you would give me great uneasiness. my northern friends have never been unkind to me: i have from you, dear sir, testimonies of affection, which i have not often been able to excite; and dr. beattie rates the testimony which i was desirous of paying to his merit, much higher than i should have thought it reasonable to expect. 'i have heard of your masquerade[ ]. what says your synod to such innovations? i am not studiously scrupulous, nor do i think a masquerade either evil in itself, or very likely to be the occasion of evil; yet as the world thinks it a very licentious relaxation of manners, i would not have been one of the _first_ masquers in a country where no masquerade had ever been before[ ]. 'a new edition of my great _dictionary_ is printed, from a copy which i was persuaded to revise; but having made no preparation, i was able to do very little. some superfluities i have expunged, and some faults i have corrected, and here and there have scattered a remark; but the main fabrick of the work remains as it was. i had looked very little into it since i wrote it, and, i think, i found it full as often better, as worse, than i expected. 'baretti and davies have had a furious quarrel[ ]; a quarrel, i think, irreconcileable. dr. goldsmith has a new comedy, which is expected in the spring. no name is yet given it[ ]. the chief diversion arises from a stratagem by which a lover is made to mistake his future father-in-law's house for an inn. this, you see, borders upon farce. the dialogue is quick and gay, and the incidents are so prepared as not to seem improbable. 'i am sorry that you lost your cause of intromission, because i yet think the arguments on your side unanswerable. but you seem, i think, to say that you gained reputation even by your defeat; and reputation you will daily gain, if you keep lord auchinleck's precept in your mind, and endeavour to consolidate in your mind a firm and regular system of law, instead of picking up occasional fragments. 'my health seems in general to improve; but i have been troubled for many weeks with a vexatious catarrh, which is sometimes sufficiently distressful. i have not found any great effects from bleeding and physick; and am afraid, that i must expect help from brighter days and softer air. 'write to me now and then; and whenever any good befalls you, make haste to let me know it, for no one will rejoice at it more than, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, feb. , .' 'you continue to stand very high in the favour of mrs. thrale.' while a former edition of my work was passing through the press, i was unexpectedly favoured with a packet from philadelphia, from mr. james abercrombie, a gentleman of that country, who is pleased to honour me with very high praise of my _life of dr. johnson_. to have the fame of my illustrious friend, and his faithful biographer, echoed from the new world is extremely flattering; and my grateful acknowledgements shall be wafted across the atlantick. mr. abercrombie has politely conferred on me a considerable additional obligation, by transmitting to me copies of two letters from dr. johnson to american gentlemen. 'gladly, sir, (says he,) would i have sent you the originals; but being the only relicks of the kind in america, they are considered by the possessors of such inestimable value, that no possible consideration would induce them to part with them. in some future publication of yours relative to that great and good man, they may perhaps be thought worthy of insertion.' 'to mr. b---d[ ]. 'sir, 'that in the hurry of a sudden departure you should yet find leisure to consult my convenience, is a degree of kindness, and an instance of regard, not only beyond my claims, but above my expectation. you are not mistaken in supposing that i set a high value on my american friends, and that you should confer a very valuable favour upon me by giving me an opportunity of keeping myself in their memory. 'i have taken the liberty of troubling you with a packet, to which i wish a safe and speedy conveyance, because i wish a safe and speedy voyage to him that conveys it. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, johnson's-court, fleet street, march , .' 'to the reverend mr. white[ ]. 'dear sir, 'your kindness for your friends accompanies you across the atlantick. it was long since observed by horace[ ], that no ship could leave care behind; you have been attended in your voyage by other powers,--by benevolence and constancy; and i hope care did not often shew her face in their company. 'i received the copy of _rasselas_. the impression is not magnificent, but it flatters an authour, because the printer seems to have expected that it would be scattered among the people. the little book has been well received, and is translated into italian[ ], french[ ], german, and dutch[ ]. it has now one honour more by an american edition. 'i know not that much has happened since your departure that can engage your curiosity. of all publick transactions the whole world is now informed by the newspapers. opposition seems to despond; and the dissenters, though they have taken advantage of unsettled times, and a government much enfeebled, seem not likely to gain any immunities[ ]. 'dr. goldsmith has a new comedy in rehearsal at covent-garden, to which the manager predicts ill success[ ]. i hope he will be mistaken. i think it deserves a very kind reception. 'i shall soon publish a new edition of my large _dictionary_; i have been persuaded to revise it, and have mended some faults, but added little to its usefulness. 'no book has been published since your departure, of which much notice is taken. faction only fills the town with pamphlets, and greater subjects are forgotten in the noise of discord. 'thus have i written, only to tell you how little i have to tell. of myself i can only add, that having been afflicted many weeks with a very troublesome cough, i am now recovered. 'i take the liberty which you give me of troubling you with a letter, of which you will please to fill up the direction. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, london, march , .' on saturday, april , the day after my arrival in london this year, i went to his house late in the evening, and sat with mrs. williams till he came home. i found in the _london chronicle_, dr. goldsmith's apology[ ] to the publick for beating evans, a bookseller, on account of a paragraph in a newspaper published by him, which goldsmith thought impertinent to him and to a lady of his acquaintance[ ]. the apology was written so much in dr. johnson's manner, that both mrs. williams and i supposed it to be his; but when he came home, he soon undeceived us. when he said to mrs. williams, 'well, dr. goldsmith's _manifesto_ has got into your paper[ ];' i asked him if dr. goldsmith had written it, with an air that made him see i suspected it was his, though subscribed by goldsmith. johnson. 'sir, dr. goldsmith would no more have asked me to write such a thing as that for him, than he would have asked me to feed him with a spoon, or to do anything else that denoted his imbecility. i as much believe that he wrote it, as if i had seen him do it. sir, had he shewn it to any one friend, he would not have been allowed to publish it. he has, indeed, done it very well; but it is a foolish thing well done. i suppose he has been so much elated with the success of his new comedy, that he has thought every thing that concerned him must be of importance to the publick.' boswell. 'i fancy, sir, this is the first time that he has been engaged in such an adventure.' johnson. 'why, sir, i believe it is the first time he has _beat_; he may have _been beaten_ before[ ]. this, sir, is a new plume to him.' i mentioned sir john dalrymple's _memoirs of great-britain and ireland_, and his discoveries to the prejudice of lord russel and algernon sydney. johnson. 'why, sir, every body who had just notions of government thought them rascals before. it is well that all mankind now see them to be rascals.' boswell. 'but, sir, may not those discoveries be true without their being rascals?' johnson. 'consider, sir; would any of them have been willing to have had it known that they intrigued with france? depend upon it, sir, he who does what he is afraid should be known, has something rotten about him. this dalrymple seems to be an honest fellow[ ]; for he tells equally what makes against both sides. but nothing can be poorer than his mode of writing, it is the mere bouncing of a school-boy. great he! but greater she! and such stuff[ ].' i could not agree with him in this criticism; for though sir john dalrymple's style is not regularly formed in any respect, and one cannot help smiling sometimes at his affected _grandiloquence_, there is in his writing a pointed vivacity, and much of a gentlemanly spirit. at mr. thrale's, in the evening, he repeated his usual paradoxical declamation against action in publick speaking[ ]. 'action can have no effect upon reasonable minds. it may augment noise, but it never can enforce argument. if you speak to a dog, you use action; you hold up your hand thus, because he is a brute; and in proportion as men are removed from brutes, action will have the less influence upon them.' mrs. thrale. 'what then, sir, becomes of demosthenes's saying? "action, action, action!"' johnson. 'demosthenes, madam, spoke to an assembly of brutes; to a barbarous people[ ].' i thought it extraordinary, that he should deny the power of rhetorical action upon human nature, when it is proved by innumerable facts in all stages of society. reasonable beings are not solely reasonable. they have fancies which may be pleased, passions which may be roused. lord chesterfield being mentioned, johnson remarked, that almost all of that celebrated nobleman's witty sayings were puns[ ]. he, however, allowed the merit of good wit to his lordship's saying of lord tyrawley[ ] and himself, when both very old and infirm: 'tyrawley and i have been dead these two years; but we don't choose to have it known.' he talked with approbation of an intended edition of _the_ spectator, with notes; two volumes of which had been prepared by a gentleman eminent in the literary world, and the materials which he had collected for the remainder had been transferred to another hand[ ]. he observed, that all works which describe manners, require notes in sixty or seventy years, or less; and told us, he had communicated all he knew that could throw light upon _the spectator_. he said, 'addison had made his sir andrew freeport a true whig, arguing against giving charity to beggars, and throwing out other such ungracious sentiments; but that he had thought better, and made amends by making him found an hospital for decayed farmers[ ].' he called for the volume of _the spectator_, in which that account is contained, and read it aloud to us. he read so well, that every thing acquired additional weight and grace from his utterance[ ]. the conversation having turned on modern imitations of ancient ballads, and some one having praised their simplicity, he treated them with that ridicule which he always displayed when that subject was mentioned[ ]. he disapproved of introducing scripture phrases into secular discourse. this seemed to me a question of some difficulty. a scripture expression may be used, like a highly classical phrase, to produce an instantaneous strong impression; and it may be done without being at all improper. yet i own there is danger, that applying the language of our sacred book to ordinary subjects may tend to lessen our reverence for it. if therefore it be introduced at all, it should be with very great caution. on thursday, april , i sat a good part of the evening with him, but he was very silent. he said, 'burnet's _history of his own times_ is very entertaining[ ]. the style, indeed, is mere chitchat[ ]. i do not believe that burnet intentionally lyed; but he was so much prejudiced, that he took no pains to find out the truth. he was like a man who resolves to regulate his time by a certain watch; but will not inquire whether the watch is right or not[ ].' though he was not disposed to talk, he was unwilling that i should leave him; and when i looked at my watch, and told him it was twelve o'clock, he cried, 'what's that to you and me?' and ordered frank to tell mrs. williams that we were coming to drink tea with her, which we did. it was settled that we should go to church together next day. on the th of april, being good friday, i breakfasted with him on tea and cross-buns[ ]; _doctor_ levet, as frank called him, making the tea. he carried me with him to the church of st. clement danes, where he had his seat; and his behaviour was, as i had imaged to myself, solemnly devout[ ]. i never shall forget the tremulous earnestness with which he pronounced the awful petition in the litany: 'in the hour of death, and at[ ] the day of judgement, good lord deliver us.' we went to church both in the morning and evening. in the interval between the two services we did not dine; but he read in the greek new testament, and i turned over several of his books. in archbishop laud's diary, i found the following passage, which i read to dr. johnson:-- ' . february , sunday. i stood by the most illustrious prince charles[ ], at dinner. he was then very merry, and talked occasionally of many things with his attendants. among other things, he said, that if he were necessitated to take any particular profession of life, he could not be a lawyer, adding his reasons: "i cannot (saith he,) defend a bad, nor yield in a good cause."' johnson. 'sir, this is false reasoning; because every cause has a bad side[ ]; and a lawyer is not overcome, though the cause which he has endeavoured to support be determined against him.' i told him that goldsmith had said to me a few days before, 'as i take my shoes from the shoemaker, and my coat from the taylor, so i take my religion from the priest.' i regretted this loose way of talking. johnson. 'sir, he knows nothing; he has made up his mind about nothing[ ].' to my great surprize he asked me to dine with him on easter-day. i never supposed that he had a dinner at his house; for i had not then heard of any one of his friends having been entertained at his table. he told me, 'i generally have a meat pye on sunday: it is baked at a publick oven, which is very properly allowed, because one man can attend it; and thus the advantage is obtained of not keeping servants from church to dress dinners[ ].' april , being easter-sunday, after having attended divine service at st. paul's, i repaired to dr. johnson's. i had gratified my curiosity much in dining with jean jaques rousseau[ ], while he lived in the wilds of neufchatel: i had as great a curiosity to dine with dr. samuel johnson, in the dusky recess of a court in fleet-street. i supposed we should scarcely have knives and forks, and only some strange, uncouth, ill-drest dish: but i found every thing in very good order. we had no other company but mrs. williams and a young woman whom i did not know. as a dinner here was considered as a singular phenomenon, and as i was frequently interrogated on the subject, my readers may perhaps be desirous to know our bill of fare. foote, i remember, in allusion to francis, the _negro_, was willing to suppose that our repast was _black broth_. but the fact was, that we had a very good soup, a boiled leg of lamb and spinach, a veal pye, and a rice pudding[ ]. of dr. john campbell, the authour, he said, 'he is a very inquisitive and a very able man, and a man of good religious principles, though i am afraid he has been deficient in practice. campbell is radically right; and we may hope, that in time there will be good practice[ ].' he owned that he thought hawkesworth was one of his imitators[ ], but he did not think goldsmith was. goldsmith, he said, had great merit. boswell. 'but, sir, he is much indebted to you for his getting so high in the publick estimation.' johnson. 'why, sir, he has perhaps got _sooner_ to it by his intimacy with me.' goldsmith, though his vanity often excited him to occasional competition, had a very high regard for johnson, which he at this time expressed in the strongest manner in the dedication of his comedy, entitled, _she stoops to conquer_.[ ] johnson observed, that there were very few books printed in scotland before the union. he had seen a complete collection of them in the possession of the hon. archibald campbell, a non-juring bishop[ ]. i wish this collection had been kept entire. many of them are in the library of the faculty of advocates at edinburgh. i told dr. johnson that i had some intention to write the life of the learned and worthy thomas ruddiman[ ]. he said, 'i should take pleasure in helping you to do honour to him. but his farewell letter to the faculty of advocates, when he resigned the office of their librarian, should have been in latin.' i put a question to him upon a fact in common life, which he could not answer, nor have i found any one else who could. what is the reason that women servants, though obliged to be at the expense of purchasing their own clothes, have much lower wages than men servants, to whom a great proportion of that article is furnished, and when in fact our female house servants work much harder than the male[ ]? he told me that he had twelve or fourteen times attempted to keep a journal of his life, but never could persevere[ ]. he advised me to do it. 'the great thing to be recorded, (said he), is the state of your own mind[ ]; and you should write down every thing that you remember, for you cannot judge at first what is good or bad; and write immediately while the impression is fresh, for it will not be the same a week afterwards[ ].' i again solicited him to communicate to me the particulars of his early life. he said, 'you shall have them all for twopence. i hope you shall know a great deal more of me before you write my life.' he mentioned to me this day many circumstances, which i wrote down when i went home, and have interwoven in the former part of this narrative. on tuesday, april , he and dr. goldsmith and i dined at general oglethorpe's. goldsmith expatiated on the common topick, that the race of our people was degenerated, and that this was owing to luxury. johnson. 'sir, in the first place, i doubt the fact[ ]. i believe there are as many tall men in england now, as ever there were. but, secondly, supposing the stature of our people to be diminished, that is not owing to luxury; for, sir, consider to how very small a proportion of our people luxury can reach. our soldiery, surely, are not luxurious, who live on six-pence a day[ ]; and the same remark will apply to almost all the other classes. luxury, so far as it reaches the poor, will do good to the race of people; it will strengthen and multiply them. sir, no nation was ever hurt by luxury; for, as i said before, it can reach but to a very few. i admit that the great increase of commerce and manufactures hurts the military spirit of a people; because it produces a competition for something else than martial honours,--a competition for riches. it also hurts the bodies of the people; for you will observe, there is no man who works at any particular trade, but you may know him from his appearance to do so. one part or other of his body being more used than the rest, he is in some degree deformed: but, sir, that is not luxury. a tailor sits cross-legged; but that is not luxury.' goldsmith. 'come, you're just going to the same place by another road.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i say that is not _luxury_. let us take a walk from charing-cross to white-chapel, through, i suppose, the greatest series of shops in the world; what is there in any of these shops (if you except gin-shops,) that can do any human being any harm?' goldsmith. 'well, sir, i'll accept your challenge. the very next shop to northumberland-house is a pickle-shop.' johnson. 'well, sir: do we not know that a maid can in one afternoon make pickles sufficient to serve a whole family for a year? nay, that five pickle-shops can serve all the kingdom? besides, sir, there is no harm done to any body by the making of pickles, or the eating of pickles.' we drank tea with the ladies; and goldsmith sung tony lumpkin's song in his comedy, _she stoops to conquer_, and a very pretty one, to an irish tune[ ], which he had designed for miss hardcastle; but as mrs. bulkeley, who played the part, could not sing, it was left out. he afterwards wrote it down for me, by which means it was preserved, and now appears amongst his poems[ ]. dr. johnson, in his way home, stopped at my lodgings in piccadilly, and sat with me, drinking tea a second time, till a late hour. i told him that mrs. macaulay said, she wondered how he could reconcile his political principles with his moral; his notions of inequality and subordination with wishing well to the happiness of all mankind, who might live so agreeably, had they all their portions of land, and none to domineer over another. johnson. 'why, sir, i reconcile my principles very well, because mankind are happier in a state of inequality and subordination[ ]. were they to be in this pretty state of equality, they would soon degenerate into brutes;--they would become monboddo's nation[ ];--their tails would grow. sir, all would be losers were all to work for all:--they would have no intellectual improvement. all intellectual improvement arises from leisure; all leisure arises from one working for another.' talking of the family of stuart[ ], he said, 'it should seem that the family at present on the throne has now established as good a right as the former family, by the long consent of the people; and that to disturb this right might be considered as culpable. at the same time i own, that it is a very difficult question, when considered with respect to the house of stuart. to oblige people to take oaths as to the disputed right, is wrong. i know not whether i could take them: but i do not blame those who do.' so conscientious and so delicate was he upon this subject, which has occasioned so much clamour against him. talking of law cases, he said, 'the english reports, in general, are very poor: only the half of what has been said is taken down; and of that half, much is mistaken. whereas, in scotland, the arguments on each side are deliberately put in writing, to be considered by the court. i think a collection of your cases upon subjects of importance, with the opinions of the judges upon them, would be valuable.' on thursday, april , i dined with him and dr. goldsmith at general paoli's. we found here signor martinelli, of florence, authour of a _history of england_, in italian, printed at london. i spoke of allan ramsay's _gentle shepherd_, in the scottish dialect, as the best pastoral that had ever been written; not only abounding with beautiful rural imagery, and just and pleasing sentiments, but being a real picture of manners; and i offered to teach dr. johnson to understand it. 'no, sir (said he,) i won't learn it. you shall retain your superiority by my not knowing it.' this brought on a question whether one man is lessened by another's acquiring an equal degree of knowledge with him[ ]. johnson asserted the affirmative. i maintained that the position might be true in those kinds of knowledge which produce wisdom, power, and force, so as to enable one man to have the government of others; but that a man is not in any degree lessened by others knowing as well as he what ends in mere pleasure:--eating fine fruits, drinking delicious wines, reading exquisite poetry. the general observed, that martinelli was a whig. johnson. 'i am sorry for it. it shows the spirit of the times: he is obliged to temporise.' boswell. 'i rather think, sir, that toryism prevails in this reign.' johnson. 'i know not why you should think so, sir. you see your friend lord lyttelton[ ], a nobleman, is obliged in his _history_ to write the most vulgar whiggism.' an animated debate took place whether martinelli should continue his _history of england_ to the present day. goldsmith. 'to be sure he should.' johnson. 'no, sir; he would give great offence. he would have to tell of almost all the living great what they do not wish told.' goldsmith. 'it may, perhaps, be necessary for a native to be more cautious; but a foreigner who comes among us without prejudice, may be considered as holding the place of a judge, and may speak his mind freely.' johnson. 'sir, a foreigner, when he sends a work from the press, ought to be on his guard against catching the errour and mistaken enthusiasm of the people among whom he happens to be.' goldsmith. 'sir, he wants only to sell his history, and to tell truth; one an honest, the other a laudable motive.' johnson. 'sir, they are both laudable motives. it is laudable in a man to wish to live by his labours; but he should write so as he may _live_ by them, not so as he may be knocked on the head. i would advise him to be at calais before he publishes his history of the present age. a foreigner who attaches himself to a political party in this country, is in the worst state that can be imagined: he is looked upon as a mere intermeddler. a native may do it from interest.' boswell. 'or principle.' goldsmith. 'there are people who tell a hundred political lies every day, and are not hurt by it. surely, then, one may tell truth with safety.' johnson. 'why, sir, in the first place, he who tells a hundred lies has disarmed the force of his lies[ ]. but besides; a man had rather have a hundred lies told of him, than one truth which he does not wish should be told.' goldsmith. 'for my part, i'd tell truth, and shame the devil.' johnson. 'yes, sir; but the devil will be angry. i wish to shame the devil as much you do, but i should choose to be out of the reach of his claws.' goldsmith. 'his claws can do you no harm, when you have the shield of truth.' it having been observed that there was little hospitality in london;--johnson. 'nay, sir, any man who has a name, or who has the power of pleasing, will be very generally invited in london. the man, sterne, i have been told, has had engagements for three months[ ].' goldsmith. 'and a very dull fellow.' johnson. 'why, no, sir[ ].' martinelli told us, that for several years he lived much with charles townshend, and that he ventured to tell him he was a bad joker. johnson. 'why, sir, thus much i can say upon the subject. one day he and a few more agreed to go and dine in the country, and each of them was to bring a friend in his carriage with him. charles townshend asked fitzherbert to go with him, but told him, 'you must find somebody to bring you back: i can only carry you there.' fitzherbert did not much like this arrangement. he however consented, observing sarcastically, 'it will do very well; for then the same jokes will serve you in returning as in going[ ].' an eminent publick character[ ] being mentioned;--johnson. 'i remember being present when he shewed himself to be so corrupted, or at least something so different from what i think right, as to maintain, that a member of parliament should go along with his party right or wrong. now, sir, this is so remote from native virtue, from scholastick virtue, that a good man must have undergone a great change before he can reconcile himself to such a doctrine. it is maintaining that you may lie to the publick; for you lie when you call that right which you think wrong, or the reverse[ ]. a friend of ours, who is too much an echo of that gentleman, observed, that a man who does not stick uniformly to a party, is only waiting to be bought. why then, said i, he is only waiting to be what that gentleman is already.' we talked of the king's coming to see goldsmith's new play.--'i wish he would[ ],' said goldsmith; adding, however, with an affected indifference, 'not that it would do me the least good.' johnson. 'well then, sir, let us say it would do _him_ good, (laughing). no, sir, this affectation will not pass;--it is mighty idle. in such a state as ours, who would not wish to please the chief magistrate?' goldsmith. 'i _do_ wish to please him. i remember a line in dryden,-- "and every poet is the monarch's friend." it ought to be reversed.' johnson. 'nay, there are finer lines in dryden on this subject:-- "for colleges on bounteous kings depend, and never rebel was to arts a friend[ ]."' general paoli observed, that 'successful rebels might[ ].' martinelli. 'happy rebellions.' goldsmith. 'we have no such phrase.' general paoli. 'but have you not the _thing_?' goldsmith. 'yes; all our _happy_ revolutions. they have hurt our constitution, and will hurt it, till we mend it by another happy revolution.' i never before discovered that my friend goldsmith had so much of the old prejudice in him. general paoli, talking of goldsmith's new play, said, 'il a fait un compliment très gracieux à une certaine grande dame;' meaning a duchess of the first rank[ ]. i expressed a doubt whether goldsmith intended it, in order that i might hear the truth from himself. it, perhaps, was not quite fair to endeavour to bring him to a confession, as he might not wish to avow positively his taking part against the court. he smiled and hesitated. the general at once relieved him, by this beautiful image: '_monsieur goldsmith est comme la mer, qui jette des perles et beau-coup d'autres belle choses, sans s'en appercevoir_.' goldsmith. '_très bien dit et très elegamment_.' a person was mentioned, who it was said could take down in short hand the speeches in parliament with perfect exactness. johnson. 'sir, it is impossible. i remember one, angel, who came to me to write for him a preface or dedication to a book upon short hand[ ], and he professed to write as fast as a man could speak. in order to try him, i took down a book, and read while he wrote; and i favoured him, for i read more deliberately than usual. i had proceeded but a very little way, when he begged i would desist, for he could not follow me[ ].' hearing now for the first time of this preface or dedication, i said, 'what an expense, sir, do you put us to in buying books, to which you have written prefaces or dedications.' johnson. 'why i have dedicated to the royal family all round; that is to say, to the last generation of the royal family[ ].' goldsmith. 'and perhaps, sir, not one sentence of wit in a whole dedication.' johnson. 'perhaps not, sir.' boswell. 'what then is the reason for applying to a particular person to do that which any one may do as well?' johnson. 'why, sir, one man has greater readiness at doing it than another.' i spoke of mr. harris[ ], of salisbury, as being a very learned man, and in particular an eminent grecian. johnson. 'i am not sure of that. his friends give him out as such, but i know not who of his friends are able to judge of it.' goldsmith. 'he is what is much better: he is a worthy humane man.' johnson. 'nay, sir, that is not to the purpose of our argument[ ]: that will as much prove that he can play upon the fiddle as well as giardini, as that he is an eminent grecian.' goldsmith. 'the greatest musical performers have but small emoluments. giardini, i am told, does not get above seven hundred a year.' johnson. 'that is indeed but little for a man to get, who does best that which so many endeavour to do. there is nothing, i think, in which the power of art is shown so much as in playing on the fiddle. in all other things we can do something at first. any man will forge a bar of iron, if you give him a hammer; not so well as a smith, but tolerably. a man will saw a piece of wood, and make a box, though a clumsy one; but give him a fiddle and a fiddle-stick, and he can do nothing.' on monday, april , he called on me with mrs. williams, in mr. strahan's coach, and carried me out to dine with mr. elphinston[ ], at his academy at kensington. a printer having acquired a fortune sufficient to keep his coach, was a good topick for the credit of literature[ ]. mrs. williams said, that another printer, mr. hamilton, had not waited so long as mr. strahan, but had kept his coach several years sooner[ ]. johnson. 'he was in the right. life is short. the sooner that a man begins to enjoy his wealth the better.' mr. elphinston talked of a new book that was much admired, and asked dr. johnson if he had read it. johnson. 'i have looked into it.' 'what (said elphinston,) have you not read it through?' johnson, offended at being thus pressed, and so obliged to own his cursory mode of reading, answered tartly, 'no, sir, do _you_ read books _through_[ ]?' he this day again defended duelling[ ], and put his argument upon what i have ever thought the most solid basis; that if publick war be allowed to be consistent with morality, private war must be equally so. indeed we may observe what strained arguments are used, to reconcile war with the christian religion. but, in my opinion, it is exceedingly clear that duelling, having better reasons for its barbarous violence, is more justifiable than war, in which thousands go forth without any cause of personal quarrel, and massacre each other. on wednesday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's. a gentleman[ ] attacked garrick for being vain. johnson. 'no wonder, sir, that he is vain; a man who is perpetually flattered in every mode that can be conceived. so many bellows have blown the fire, that one wonders he is not by this time become a cinder.' boswell. 'and such bellows too. lord mansfield with his cheeks like to burst: lord chatham like an �olus. i have read such notes from them to him, as were enough to turn his head[ ].' johnson. 'true. when he whom every body else flatters, flatters me, i then am truely happy.' mrs. thrale. 'the sentiment is in congreve, i think.' johnson. 'yes, madam, in _the way of the world_: "if there's delight in love, 'tis when i see that heart which others bleed for, bleed for me[ ]." 'no, sir, i should not be surprised though garrick chained the ocean, and lashed the winds.' boswell. 'should it not be, sir, lashed the ocean and chained the winds?' johnson. 'no, sir, recollect the original: "in corum atque eurum solitus saevire flagellis barbarus, �olio nunquam hoc in carcere passos, ipsum compedibus qui viscxerat ennosigoeum[ ]." 'this does very well, when both the winds and the sea are personified, and mentioned by their mythological names, as in juvenal; but when they are mentioned in plain language, the application of the epithets suggested by me, is the most obvious; and accordingly my friend himself, in his imitation of the passage which describes xerxes, has "the waves he lashes, and enchains the wind."' the modes of living in different countries, and the various views with which men travel in quest of new scenes, having been talked of, a learned gentleman[ ] who holds a considerable office in the law, expatiated on the happiness of a savage life[ ]; and mentioned an instance of an officer who had actually lived for some time in the wilds of america, of whom, when in that state, he quoted this reflection with an air of admiration, as if it had been deeply philosophical: 'here am i, free and unrestrained, amidst the rude magnificence of nature, with this indian woman by my side, and this gun with which i can procure food when i want it: what more can be desired for human happiness?' it did not require much sagacity to foresee that such a sentiment would not be permitted to pass without due animadversion. johnson. 'do not allow yourself, sir, to be imposed upon by such gross absurdity. it is sad stuff; it is brutish. if a bull could speak, he might as well exclaim,--here am i with this cow and this grass; what being can enjoy greater felicity?' we talked of the melancholy end of a gentleman[ ] who had destroyed himself. johnson. 'it was owing to imaginary difficulties in his affairs, which, had he talked with any friend, would soon have vanished.' boswell. 'do you think, sir, that all who commit suicide are mad?' johnson. 'sir, they are often not universally disordered in their intellects, but one passion presses so upon them, that they yield to it, and commit suicide, as a passionate man will stab another.' he added, 'i have often thought, that after a man has taken the resolution to kill himself, it is not courage in him to do any thing, however desperate, because he has nothing to fear.' goldsmith. 'i don't see that.' johnson. 'nay, but my dear sir, why should not you see what every one else sees?' goldsmith. 'it is for fear of something that he has resolved to kill himself; and will not that timid disposition restrain him?' johnson. 'it does not signify that the fear of something made him resolve; it is upon the state of his mind, after the resolution is taken, that i argue. suppose a man, either from fear, or pride, or conscience, or whatever motive, has resolved to kill himself; when once the resolution is taken, he has nothing to fear. he may then go and take the king of prussia by the nose, at the head of his army. he cannot fear the rack, who is resolved to kill himself. when eustace budgel[ ] was walking down to the thames, determined to drown himself, he might, if he pleased, without any apprehension of danger, have turned aside, and first set fire to st. james's palace.' on tuesday, april , mr. beauclerk and i called on him in the morning. as we walked up johnson's-court, i said, 'i have a veneration for this court;' and was glad to find that beauclerk had the same reverential enthusiasm[ ]. we found him alone. we talked of mr. andrew stuart's elegant and plausible letters to lord mansfield[ ]: a copy of which had been sent by the authour to dr. johnson. johnson. 'they have not answered the end. they have not been talked of; i have never heard of them. this is owing to their not being sold. people seldom read a book which is given to them; and few are given. the way to spread a work is to sell it at a low price. no man will send to buy a thing that costs even sixpence, without an intention to read it.' boswell. 'may it not be doubted, sir, whether it be proper to publish letters, arraigning the ultimate decision of an important cause by the supreme judicature of the nation?' johnson. 'no, sir, i do not think it was wrong to publish these letters. if they are thought to do harm, why not answer them? but they will do no harm; if mr. douglas be indeed the son of lady jane, he cannot be hurt: if he be not her son, and yet has the great estate of the family of douglas, he may well submit to have a pamphlet against him by andrew stuart. sir, i think such a publication does good, as it does good to show us the possibilities of human life. and sir, you will not say that the douglas cause was a cause of easy decision, when it divided your court as much as it could do, to be determined at all. when your judges were seven and seven, the casting vote of the president must be given on one side or other: no matter, for my argument, on which; one or the other _must_ be taken: as when i am to move, there is no matter which leg i move first. and then, sir, it was otherwise determined here. no, sir, a more dubious determination of any question cannot be imagined[ ].' he said, 'goldsmith should not be for ever attempting to shine in conversation: he has not temper for it, he is so much mortified when he fails. sir, a game of jokes is composed partly of skill, partly of chance, a man may be beat at times by one who has not the tenth part of his wit. now goldsmith's putting himself against another, is like a man laying a hundred to one who cannot spare the hundred. it is not worth a man's while. a man should not lay a hundred to one, unless he can easily spare it, though he has a hundred chances for him: he can get but a guinea, and he may lose a hundred. goldsmith is in this state. when he contends, if he gets the better, it is a very little addition to a man of his literary reputation: if he does not get the better, he is miserably vexed.' johnson's own superlative powers of wit set him above any risk of such uneasiness. garrick had remarked to me of him, a few days before, 'rabelais and all other wits are nothing compared with him. you may be diverted by them; but johnson gives you a forcible hug, and shakes laughter out of you, whether you will or no.' goldsmith, however, was often very fortunate in his witty contests, even when he entered the lists with johnson himself. sir joshua reynolds was in company with them one day, when goldsmith said, that he thought he could write a good fable, mentioned the simplicity which that kind of composition requires, and observed, that in most fables the animals introduced seldom talk in character. 'for instance, (said he,) the fable of the little fishes, who saw birds fly over their heads, and envying them, petitioned jupiter to be changed into birds. the skill (continued he,) consists in making them talk like little fishes.' while he indulged himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed johnson shaking his sides, and laughing. upon which he smartly proceeded, 'why, dr. johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.' johnson, though remarkable for his great variety of composition, never exercised his talents in fable, except we allow his beautiful tale[ ] published in mrs. williams's _miscellanies_[ ] to be of that species. i have, however, found among his manuscript collections the following sketch of one: 'glow-worm[ ] lying in the garden saw a candle in a neighbouring palace,--and complained of the littleness of his own light;--another observed--wait a little;--soon dark,--have outlasted [greek: poll] [_many_] of these glaring lights which are only brighter as they haste to nothing.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, where were sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, dr. goldsmith, and mr. thrale. i was very desirous to get dr. johnson absolutely fixed in his resolution to go with me to the hebrides this year; and i told him that i had received a letter from dr. robertson the historian, upon the subject, with which he was much pleased; and now talked in such a manner of his long-intended tour, that i was satisfied he meant to fulfil his engagement. the custom of eating dogs at otaheite being mentioned, goldsmith observed, that this was also a custom in china; that a dog-butcher is as common there as any other butcher; and that when he walks abroad all the dogs fall on him. johnson. 'that is not owing to his killing dogs, sir. i remember a butcher at lichfield, whom a dog that was in the house where i lived, always attacked. it is the smell of carnage which provokes this, let the animals he has killed be what they may.' goldsmith. 'yes, there is a general abhorrence in animals at the signs of massacre. if you put a tub full of blood into a stable, the horses are like to go mad.' johnson. 'i doubt that.' goldsmith. 'nay, sir, it is a fact well authenticated.' thrale. 'you had better prove it before you put it into your book on natural history. you may do it in my stable if you will.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i would not have him prove it. if he is content to take his information from others, he may get through his book with little trouble, and without much endangering his reputation. but if he makes experiments for so comprehensive a book as his, there would be no end to them: his erroneous assertions would then fall upon himself, and he might be blamed for not having made experiments as to every particular.' the character of mallet having been introduced, and spoken of slightingly by goldsmith; johnson. 'why, sir, mallet had talents enough to keep his literary reputation alive as long as he himself lived[ ]; and that, let me tell you, is a good deal.' goldsmith. 'but i cannot agree that it was so. his literary reputation was dead long before his natural death. i consider an authour's literary reputation to be alive only while his name will ensure a good price for his copy from the booksellers. i will get you (to johnson,) a hundred guineas for any thing whatever that you shall write, if you put your name to it[ ].' dr. goldmith's new play, _she stoops to conquer_, being mentioned; johnson. 'i know of no comedy for many years that has so much exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of comedy--making an audience merry[ ].' goldsmith having said, that garrick's compliment to the queen, which he introduced into the play of _the chances_[ ], which he had altered and revised this year, was mean and gross flattery;--johnson. 'why, sir, i would not _write_, i would not give solemnly under my hand, a character beyond what i thought really true; but a speech on the stage, let it flatter ever so extravagantly, is formular[ ]. it has always been formular to flatter kings and queens; so much so, that even in our church-service we have "our most religious king," used indiscriminately, whoever is king. nay, they even flatter themselves;--"we have been graciously pleased to grant." no modern flattery, however, is so gross as that of the augustan age, where the emperour was deified. "_praesens divus habebitur augustus_[ ]." and as to meanness, (rising into warmth,) how is it mean in a player,--a showman,--a fellow who exhibits himself for a shilling, to flatter his queen[ ]? the attempt, indeed, was dangerous; for if it had missed, what became of garrick, and what became of the queen? as sir william temple says of a great general, it is necessary not only that his designs be formed in a masterly manner, but that they should be attended with success[ ]. sir, it is right, at a time when the royal family is not generally liked[ ], to let it be seen that the people like at least one of them.' sir joshua reynolds. 'i do not perceive why the profession of a player should be despised[ ]; for the great and ultimate end of all the employments of mankind is to produce amusement. garrick produces more amusement than any body.' boswell. 'you say, dr. johnson, that garrick exhibits himself for a shilling. in this respect he is only on a footing with a lawyer who exhibits himself for his fee, and even will maintain any nonsense or absurdity, if the case requires it. garrick refuses a play or a part which he does not like; a lawyer never refuses.' johnson. 'why, sir, what does this prove? only that a lawyer is worse. boswell is now like jack in _the tale of a tub_[ ], who, when he is puzzled by an argument, hangs himself. he thinks i shall cut him down, but i'll let him hang' (laughing vociferously). sir joshua reynolds. 'mr. boswell thinks that the profession of a lawyer being unquestionably honourable, if he can show the profession of a player to be more honourable, he proves his argument.' on friday, april , i dined with him at mr. beauclerk's, where were lord charlemont, sir joshua reynolds, and some more members of the literary club, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as i was this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that distinguished society. johnson had done me the honour to propose me[ ], and beauclerk was very zealous for me. goldsmith being mentioned; johnson. 'it is amazing how little goldsmith knows. he seldom comes where he is not more ignorant than any one else.' sir joshua reynolds. 'yet there is no man whose company is more liked.' johnson. 'to be sure, sir. when people find a man of the most distinguished abilities as a writer, their inferiour while he is with them, it must be highly gratifying to them. what goldsmith comically says of himself is very true,--he always gets the better when he argues alone; meaning, that he is master of a subject in his study, and can write well upon it; but when he comes into company, grows confused, and unable to talk[ ]. take him as a poet, his _traveller_ is a very fine performance; ay, and so is his _deserted village_, were it not sometimes too much the echo of his _traveller_. whether, indeed, we take him as a poet,--as a comick writer,--or as an historian, he stands in the first class.' boswell. 'an historian! my dear sir, you surely will not rank his compilation of the roman history with the works of other historians of this age?' johnson. 'why, who are before him[ ]?' boswell. 'hume,-- robertson[ ],--lord lyttelton.' johnson (his antipathy to the scotch beginning to rise). 'i have not read hume; but, doubtless, goldsmith's _history_ is better than the _verbiage_ of robertson[ ], or the foppery of dalrymple[ ].' boswell. 'will you not admit the superiority of robertson, in whose _history_ we find such penetration--such painting?' johnson. 'sir, you must consider how that penetration and that painting are employed. it is not history, it is imagination. he who describes what he never saw, draws from fancy. robertson paints minds as sir joshua paints faces in a history-piece: he imagines an heroic countenance. you must look upon robertson's work as romance, and try it by that standard[ ].history it is not. besides, sir, it is the great excellence of a writer to put into his book as much as his book will hold. goldsmith has done this in his _history_. now robertson might have put twice as much into his book. robertson is like a man who has packed gold in wool: the wool takes up more room than the gold. no, sir; i always thought robertson would be crushed by his own weight,--would be buried under his own ornaments. goldsmith tells you shortly all you want to know: robertson detains you a great deal too long. no man will read robertson's cumbrous detail a second time; but goldsmith's plain narrative will please again and again. i would say to robertson what an old tutor of a college said to one of his pupils: "read over your compositions, and where ever you meet with a passage which you think is particularly fine, strike it out." goldsmith's abridgement is better than that of lucius florus or eutropius; and i will venture to say, that if you compare him with vertot[ ], in the same places of the roman history, you will find that he excels vertot. sir, he has the art of compiling, and of saying every thing he has to say in a pleasing manner[ ]. he is now writing a natural history and will make it as entertaining as a persian tale.' i cannot dismiss the present topick without observing, that it is probable that dr. johnson, who owned that he often 'talked for victory,' rather urged plausible objections to dr. robertson's excellent historical works, in the ardour of contest, than expressed his real and decided opinion; for it is not easy to suppose, that he should so widely differ from the rest of the literary world[ ]. johnson. 'i remember once being with goldsmith in westminster-abbey. while we surveyed the poets' corner, i said to him, "_forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis_[ ]." when we got to temple-bar he stopped me, pointed to the heads upon it[ ], and slily whispered me, "_forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur_ istis[ ]."'. johnson praised john bunyan highly. 'his _pilgrim's progress_ has great merit, both for invention, imagination, and the conduct of the story; and it has had the best evidence of its merit, the general and continued approbation of mankind. few books, i believe, have had a more extensive sale. it is remarkable, that it begins very much like the poem of dante; yet there was no translation of dante when bunyan wrote. there is reason to think that he had read spenser[ ].' a proposition which had been agitated, that monuments to eminent persons should, for the time to come, be erected in st. paul's church as well as in westminster-abbey, was mentioned; and it was asked, who should be honoured by having his monument first erected there[ ]. somebody suggested pope. johnson. 'why, sir, as pope was a roman catholick, i would not have his to be first. i think milton's rather should have the precedence[ ]. i think more highly of him now than i did at twenty[ ]. there is more thinking in him and in butler, than in any of our poets.' some of the company expressed a wonder why the authour of so excellent a book as _the whole duty of man_[ ] should conceal himself. johnson. 'there may be different reasons assigned for this, any one of which would be very sufficient. he may have been a clergyman, and may have thought that his religious counsels would have less weight when known to come from a man whose profession was theology. he may have been a man whose practice was not suitable to his principles, so that his character might injure the effect of his book, which he had written in a season of penitence. or he may have been a man of rigid self-denial, so that he would have no reward for his pious labours while in this world, but refer it all to a future state.' the gentlemen went away to their club, and i was left at beauclerk's till the fate of my election should be announced to me. i sat in a state of anxiety which even the charming conversation of lady di beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. in a short time i received the agreeable intelligence that i was chosen[ ]. i hastened to the place of meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found. mr. edmund burke, whom i then saw for the first time, and whose splendid talents had long made me ardently wish for his acquaintance; dr. nugent, mr. garrick, dr. goldsmith, mr. (afterwards sir william) jones[ ], and the company with whom i had dined. upon my entrance, johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality gave me a _charge_, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a good member of this club. goldsmith produced some very absurd verses which had been publickly recited to an audience for money[ ]. johnson. 'i can match this nonsense. there was a poem called _eugenio_, which came out some years ago, and concludes thus: "and now, ye trifling, self-assuming elves, brimful of pride, of nothing, of yourselves, survey eugenio, view him o'er and o'er, then sink into yourselves, and be no more[ ]." 'nay, dryden in his poem on the royal society[ ], has these lines: "then we upon our globe's last verge shall go, and see the ocean leaning on the sky; from thence our rolling neighbours we shall know, and on the lunar world securely pry."' talking of puns, johnson, who had a great contempt for that species of wit[ ], deigned to allow that there was one good pun in _menagiana_, i think on the word _corps_[ ]. much pleasant conversation passed, which johnson relished with great good humour. but his conversation alone, or what led to it, or was interwoven with it, is the business of this work[ ]. on saturday, may , we dined by ourselves at our old rendezvous, the mitre tavern. he was placid, but not much disposed to talk. he observed that 'the irish mix better with the english than the scotch do; their language is nearer to english; as a proof of which, they succeed very well as players, which scotchmen do not. then, sir, they have not that extreme nationality which we find in the scotch. i will do you, boswell, the justice to say, that you are the most _unscottified_ of your countrymen. you are almost the only instance of a scotchman that i have known, who did not at every other sentence bring in some other scotchman[ ].' we drank tea with mrs. williams. i introduced a question which has been much agitated in the church of scotland, whether the claim of lay-patrons to present ministers to parishes be well founded; and supposing it to be well founded, whether it ought to be exercised without the concurrence of the people? that church is composed of a series of judicatures: a presbytery, a synod, and finally, a general assembly; before all of which, this matter may be contended: and in some cases the presbytery having refused to induct or _settle_, as they call it, the person presented by the patron, it has been found necessary to appeal to the general assembly. he said, i might see the subject well treated in the _defence of pluralities_[ ]; and although he thought that a patron should exercise his right with tenderness to the inclinations of the people of a parish, he was very clear as to his right. then supposing the question to be pleaded before the general assembly, he dictated to me what follows: 'against the right of patrons is commonly opposed, by the inferiour judicatures, the plea of conscience. their conscience tells them, that the people ought to choose their pastor; their conscience tells them that they ought not to impose upon a congregation a minister ungrateful and unacceptable to his auditors. conscience is nothing more than a conviction felt by ourselves of something to be done, or something to be avoided; and in questions of simple unperplexed morality, conscience is very often a guide that may be trusted. but before conscience can determine, the state of the question is supposed to be completely known. in questions of law, or of fact, conscience is very often confounded with opinion. no man's conscience can tell him the right of another man[ ]; they must be known by rational investigation or historical enquiry. opinion, which he that holds it may call his conscience, may teach some men that religion would be promoted, and quiet preserved, by granting to the people universally the choice of their ministers. but it is a conscience very ill informed that violates the rights of one man, for the convenience of another. religion cannot be promoted by injustice: and it was never yet found that a popular election was very quietly transacted. 'that justice would be violated by transferring to the people the right of patronage, is apparent to all who know whence that right had its original. the right of patronage was not at first a privilege torn by power from unresisting poverty. it is not an authority at first usurped in times of ignorance, and established only by succession and by precedents. it is not a grant capriciously made from a higher tyrant to a lower. it is a right dearly purchased by the first possessors, and justly inherited by those that succeeded them. when christianity was established in this island, a regular mode of publick worship was prescribed. publick worship requires a publick place; and the proprietors of lands, as they were converted, built churches for their families and their vassals. for the maintenance of ministers, they settled a certain portion of their lands; and a district, through which each minister was required to extend his care, was, by that circumscription, constituted a parish. this is a position so generally received in england, that the extent of a manor and of a parish are regularly received for each other. the churches which the proprietors of lands had thus built and thus endowed, they justly thought themselves entitled to provide with ministers; and where the episcopal government prevails, the bishop has no power to reject a man nominated by the patron, but for some crime that might exclude him from the priesthood. for the endowment of the church being the gift of the landlord, he was consequently at liberty to give it according to his choice, to any man capable of performing the holy offices. the people did not choose him, because the people did not pay him. 'we hear it sometimes urged, that this original right is passed out of memory, and is obliterated and obscured by many translations of property and changes of government; that scarce any church is now in the hands of the heirs of the builders; and that the present persons have entered subsequently upon the pretended rights by a thousand accidental and unknown causes. much of this, perhaps, is true. but how is the right of patronage extinguished? if the right followed the lands, it is possessed by the same equity by which the lands are possessed. it is, in effect, part of the manor, and protected by the same laws with every other privilege. let us suppose an estate forfeited by treason, and granted by the crown to a new family. with the lands were forfeited all the rights appendant to those lands; by the same power that grants the lands, the rights also are granted. the right lost to the patron falls not to the people, but is either retained by the crown, or what to the people is the same thing, is by the crown given away. let it change hands ever so often, it is possessed by him that receives it with the same right as it was conveyed. it may, indeed, like all our possessions, be forcibly seized or fraudulently obtained. but no injury is still done to the people; for what they never had, they have never lost. caius may usurp the right of titius; but neither caius nor titius injure the people; and no man's conscience, however tender or however active, can prompt him to restore what may be proved to have been never taken away. supposing, what i think cannot be proved, that a popular election of ministers were to be desired, our desires are not the measure of equity. it were to be desired that power should be only in the hands of the merciful, and riches in the possession of the generous; but the law must leave both riches and power where it finds them: and must often leave riches with the covetous, and power with the cruel. convenience may be a rule in little things, where no other rule has been established. but as the great end of government is to give every man his own, no inconvenience is greater than that of making right uncertain. nor is any man more an enemy to publick peace, than he who fills weak heads with imaginary claims, and breaks the series of civil subordination, by inciting the lower classes of mankind to encroach upon the higher. 'having thus shown that the right of patronage, being originally purchased, may be legally transferred, and that it is now in the hands of lawful possessors, at least as certainly as any other right;--we have left to the advocates of the people no other plea than that of convenience. let us, therefore, now consider what the people would really gain by a general abolition of the right of patronage. what is most to be desired by such a change is, that the country should be supplied with better ministers. but why should we suppose that the parish will make a wiser choice than the patron? if we suppose mankind actuated by interest, the patron is more likely to choose with caution, because he will suffer more by choosing wrong. by the deficiencies of his minister, or by his vices, he is equally offended with the rest of the congregation; but he will have this reason more to lament them, that they will be imputed to his absurdity or corruption. the qualifications of a minister are well known to be learning and piety. of his learning the patron is probably the only judge in the parish; and of his piety not less a judge than others; and is more likely to enquire minutely and diligently before he gives a presentation, than one of the parochial rabble, who can give nothing but a vote. it may be urged, that though the parish might not choose better ministers, they would at least choose ministers whom they like better, and who would therefore officiate with greater efficacy. that ignorance and perverseness should always obtain what they like, was never considered as the end of government; of which it is the great and standing benefit, that the wise see for the simple, and the regular act for the capricious. but that this argument supposes the people capable of judging, and resolute to act according to their best judgments, though this be sufficiently absurd, it is not all its absurdity. it supposes not only wisdom, but unanimity in those, who upon no other occasions are unanimous or wise. if by some strange concurrence all the voices of a parish should unite in the choice of any single man, though i could not charge the patron with injustice for presenting a minister, i should censure him as unkind and injudicious. but, it is evident, that as in all other popular elections there will be contrariety of judgment and acrimony of passion, a parish upon every vacancy would break into factions, and the contest for the choice of a minister would set neighbours at variance, and bring discord into families. the minister would be taught all the arts of a candidate, would flatter some, and bribe others; and the electors, as in all other cases, would call for holidays and ale, and break the heads of each other during the jollity of the canvas. the time must, however, come at last, when one of the factions must prevail, and one of the ministers get possession of the church. on what terms does he enter upon his ministry but those of enmity with half his parish? by what prudence or what diligence can he hope to conciliate the affections of that party by whose defeat he has obtained his living? every man who voted against him will enter the church with hanging head and downcast eyes, afraid to encounter that neighbour by whose vote and influence he has been overpowered. he will hate his neighbour for opposing him, and his minister for having prospered by the opposition; and as he will never see him but with pain, he will never see him but with hatred. of a minister presented by the patron, the parish has seldom any thing worse to say than that they do not know him. of a minister chosen by a popular contest, all those who do not favour him, have nursed up in their bosoms principles of hatred and reasons of rejection. anger is excited principally by pride. the pride of a common man is very little exasperated by the supposed usurpation of an acknowledged superiour. he bears only his little share of a general evil, and suffers in common with the whole parish; but when the contest is between equals, the defeat has many aggravations; and he that is defeated by his next neighbour, is seldom satisfied without some revenge; and it is hard to say what bitterness of malignity would prevail in a parish where these elections should happen to be frequent, and the enmity of opposition should be re-kindled before it had cooled.' though i present to my readers dr. johnson's masterly thoughts on the subject, i think it proper to declare, that notwithstanding i am myself a lay patron, i do not entirely subscribe to his opinion. on friday, may , i breakfasted with him at mr. thrale's in the borough. while we were alone, i endeavoured as well as i could to apologise for a lady[ ] who had been divorced from her husband by act of parliament. i said, that he had used her very ill, had behaved brutally to her, and that she could not continue to live with him without having her delicacy contaminated; that all affection for him was thus destroyed; that the essence of conjugal union being gone, there remained only a cold form, a mere civil obligation; that she was in the prime of life, with qualities to produce happiness; that these ought not to be lost; and, that the gentleman on whose account she was divorced had gained her heart while thus unhappily situated. seduced, perhaps, by the charms of the lady in question, i thus attempted to palliate what i was sensible could not be justified; for when i had finished my harangue, my venerable friend gave me a proper check: 'my dear sir, never accustom your mind to mingle virtue and vice. the woman's a whore, and there's an end on't.' he described the father[ ] of one of his friends thus: 'sir, he was so exuberant a talker at publick meeting, that the gentlemen of his county were afraid of him. no business could be done for his declamation.' he did not give me full credit when i mentioned that i had carried on a short conversation by signs with some esquimaux who were then in london, particularly with one of them who was a priest. he thought i could not make them understand me. no man was more incredulous as to particular facts, which were at all extraordinary[ ]; and therefore no man was more scrupulously inquisitive, in order to discover the truth. i dined with him this day at the house of my friends, messieurs edward and charles dilly[ ], booksellers in the poultry: there were present, their elder brother mr. dilly of bedfordshire, dr. goldsmith, mr. langton, mr. claxton, reverend dr. mayo a dissenting minister, the reverend mr. toplady[ ], and my friend the reverend mr. temple. hawkesworth's compilation of the voyages to the south sea being mentioned;--johnson. 'sir, if you talk of it as a subject of commerce, it will be gainful[ ]; if as a book that is to increase human knowledge, i believe there will not be much of that. hawkesworth can tell only what the voyagers have told him; and they have found very little, only one new animal, i think.' boswell. 'but many insects, sir.' johnson. 'why, sir, as to insects, ray reckons of british insects twenty thousand species. they might have staid at home and discovered enough in that way.' talking of birds, i mentioned mr. daines barrington's ingenious essay against the received notion of their migration. johnson. 'i think we have as good evidence for the migration of woodcocks as can be desired. we find they disappear at a certain time of the year, and appear again at a certain time of the year; and some of them, when weary in their flight, have been known to alight on the rigging of ships far out at sea.' one of the company observed, that there had been instances of some of them found in summer in essex. johnson. 'sir, that strengthens our argument. _exceptio probat regulam_. some being found shews, that, if all remained, many would be found. a few sick or lame ones may be found.' goldsmith. 'there is a partial migration of the swallows; the stronger ones migrate, the others do not[ ].' boswell. 'i am well assured that the people of otaheite who have the bread tree, the fruit of which serves them for bread, laughed heartily when they were informed of the tedious process necessary with us to have bread;--plowing, sowing, harrowing, reaping, threshing, grinding, baking.' johnson. 'why, sir, all ignorant savages will laugh when they are told of the advantages of civilized life. were you to tell men who live without houses, how we pile brick upon brick, and rafter upon rafter, and that after a house is raised to a certain height, a man tumbles off a scaffold, and breaks his neck; he would laugh heartily at our folly in building; but it does not follow that men are better without houses. no, sir, (holding up a slice of a good loaf,) this is better than the bread tree[ ].' he repeated an argument, which is to be found in his _rambler_[ ], against the notion that the brute creation is endowed with the faculty of reason: 'birds build by instinct; they never improve; they build their first nest as well as any one they ever build.' goldsmith. 'yet we see if you take away a bird's nest with the eggs in it, she will make a slighter nest and lay again.' johnson. 'sir, that is because at first she has full time and makes her nest deliberately. in the case you mention she is pressed to lay, and must therefore make her nest quickly, and consequently it will be slight.' goldsmith. 'the identification of birds is what is least known in natural history, though one of the most curious things in it.' i introduced the subject of toleration[ ]. johnson. 'every society has a right to preserve publick peace and order, and therefore has a good right to prohibit the propagation of opinions which have a dangerous tendency. to say the _magistrate_ has this right, is using an inadequate word: it is the _society_ for which the magistrate is agent. he may be morally or theologically wrong in restraining the propagation of opinions which he thinks dangerous, but he is politically right.' mayo. 'i am of opinion, sir, that every man is entitled to liberty of conscience in religion; and that the magistrate cannot restrain that right.' johnson. 'sir, i agree with you. every man has a right to liberty of conscience, and with that the magistrate cannot interfere. people confound liberty of thinking with liberty of talking; nay, with liberty of preaching. every man has a physical right to think as he pleases; for it cannot be discovered how he thinks. he has not a moral right, for he ought to inform himself, and think justly. but, sir, no member of a society has a right to _teach_ any doctrine contrary to what the society holds to be true. the magistrate, i say, may be wrong in what he thinks: but while he thinks himself right, he may and ought to enforce what he thinks[ ].' mayo. 'then, sir, we are to remain always in errour, and truth never can prevail; and the magistrate was right in persecuting the first christians.' johnson. 'sir, the only method by which religious truth can be established is by martyrdom. the magistrate has a right to enforce what he thinks; and he who is conscious of the truth has a right to suffer. i am afraid there is no other way of ascertaining the truth, but by persecution on the one hand and enduring it on the other[ ].' goldsmith. 'but how is a man to act, sir? though firmly convinced of the truth of his doctrine, may he not think it wrong to expose himself to persecution? has he a right to do so? is it not, as it were, committing voluntary suicide?' johnson. 'sir, as to voluntary suicide, as you call it, there are twenty thousand men in an army who will go without scruple to be shot at, and mount a breach for five-pence a day.' goldsmith. 'but have they a moral right to do this?' johnson. 'nay, sir, if you will not take the universal opinion of mankind, i have nothing to say. if mankind cannot defend their own way of thinking, i cannot defend it. sir, if a man is in doubt whether it would be better for him to expose himself to martyrdom or not, he should not do it. he must be convinced that he has a delegation from heaven.' goldsmith. 'i would consider whether there is the greater chance of good or evil upon the whole. if i see a man who had fallen into a well, i would wish to help him out; but if there is a greater probability that he shall pull me in, than that i shall pull him out, i would not attempt it. so were i to go to turkey, i might wish to convert the grand signor to the christian faith; but when i considered that i should probably be put to death without effectuating my purpose in any degree, i should keep myself quiet.' johnson. 'sir you must consider that we have perfect and imperfect obligations. perfect obligations, which are generally not to do something, are clear and positive; as, 'thou shalt not kill.' but charity, for instance, is not definable by limits. it is a duty to give to the poor; but no man can say how much another should give to the poor, or when a man has given too little to save his soul. in the same manner it is a duty to instruct the ignorant, and of consequence to convert infidels to christianity; but no man in the common course of things is obliged to carry this to such a degree as to incur the danger of martyrdom, as no man is obliged to strip himself to the shirt in order to give charity. i have said, that a man must be persuaded that he has a particular delegation from heaven.' goldsmith. 'how is this to be known? our first reformers, who were burnt for not believing bread and wine to be christ'--johnson, (interrupting him,) 'sir, they were not burnt for not believing bread and wine to be christ, but for insulting those who did believe it. and, sir, when the first reformers began, they did not intend to be martyred: as many of them ran away as could.' boswell. 'but, sir, there was your countryman, elwal[ ], who you told me challenged king george with his black-guards, and his red-guards.' johnson. 'my countryman, elwal, sir, should have been put in the stocks; a proper pulpit for him; and he'd have had a numerous audience. a man who preaches in the stocks will always have hearers enough.' boswell. 'but elwal thought himself in the right.' johnson. 'we are not providing for mad people; there are places for them in the neighbourhood' (meaning moorfields). mayo. 'but, sir, is it not very hard that i should not be allowed to teach my children what i really believe to be the truth?' johnson. 'why, sir, you might contrive to teach your children _extrà scandalum_; but, sir, the magistrate, if he knows it, has a right to restrain you. suppose you teach your children to be thieves?' mayo. 'this is making a joke of the subject.' johnson.' 'nay, sir, take it thus:--that you teach them the community of goods; for which there are as many plausible arguments as for most erroneous doctrines. you teach them that all things at first were in common, and that no man had a right to any thing but as he laid his hands upon it; and that this still is, or ought to be, the rule amongst mankind. here, sir, you sap a great principle in society,--property. and don't you think the magistrate would have a right to prevent you? or, suppose you should teach your children the notion of the adamites, and they should run naked into the streets, would not the magistrate have a right to flog 'em into their doublets?' mayo. 'i think the magistrate has no right to interfere till there is some overt act.' boswell. 'so, sir, though he sees an enemy to the state charging a blunderbuss, he is not to interfere till it is fired off?' mayo. 'he must be sure of its direction against the state.' johnson. 'the magistrate is to judge of that.--he has no right to restrain your thinking, because the evil centers in yourself. if a man were sitting at this table, and chopping off his fingers, the magistrate, as guardian of the community, has no authority to restrain him, however he might do it from kindness as a parent.--though, indeed, upon more consideration, i think he may; as it is probable, that he who is chopping off his own fingers, may soon proceed to chop off those of other people. if i think it right to steal mr. dilly's plate, i am a bad man; but he can say nothing to me. if i make an open declaration that i think so, he will keep me out of his house. if i put forth my hand, i shall be sent to newgate. this is the gradation of thinking, preaching, and acting: if a man thinks erroneously, he may keep his thoughts to himself, and nobody will trouble him; if he preaches erroneous doctrine, society may expel him; if he acts in consequence of it, the law takes place, and he is hanged[ ].' mayo. 'but, sir, ought not christians to have liberty of conscience?' johnson. 'i have already told you so, sir. you are coming back to where you were,' boswell. 'dr. mayo is always taking a return post-chaise, and going the stage over again. he has it at half price.' johnson. 'dr. mayo, like other champions for unlimited toleration, has got a set of words[ ]. sir, it is no matter, politically, whether the magistrate be right or wrong. suppose a club were to be formed, to drink confusion to king george the third, and a happy restoration to charles the third[ ], this would be very bad with respect to the state; but every member of that club must either conform to its rules, or be turned out of it. old baxter, i remember, maintains, that the magistrate should "tolerate all things that are tolerable." this is no good definition of toleration upon any principle; but it shews that he thought some things were not tolerable.' toplady. 'sir, you have untwisted this difficult subject with great dexterity[ ].' during this argument, goldsmith sat in restless agitation, from a wish to get in and _shine_[ ]. finding himself excluded, he had taken his hat to go away[ ], but remained for some time with it in his hand, like a gamester, who at the close of a long night, lingers for a little while, to see if he can have a favourable opening to finish with success. once when he was beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud voice of johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table, and did not perceive goldsmith's attempt. thus disappointed of his wish to obtain the attention of the company, goldsmith in a passion threw down his hat, looking angrily at johnson, and exclaiming in a bitter tone, '_take it_.' when toplady was going to speak, johnson uttered some sound, which led goldsmith to think that he was beginning again, and taking the words from toplady. upon which, he seized this opportunity of venting his own envy and spleen, under the pretext of supporting another person: 'sir, (said he to johnson,) the gentleman has heard you patiently for an hour; pray allow us now to hear him[ ].' johnson. (sternly,) 'sir, i was not interrupting the gentleman. i was only giving him a signal of my attention. sir, you are impertinent.' goldsmith made no reply, but continued in the company for some time. a gentleman present[ ] ventured to ask dr. johnson if there was not a material difference as to toleration of opinions which lead to action, and opinions merely speculative; for instance, would it be wrong in the magistrate to tolerate those who preach against the doctrine of the trinity? johnson was highly offended, and said, 'i wonder, sir, how a gentleman of your piety can introduce this subject in a mixed company.' he told me afterwards, that the impropriety was, that perhaps some of the company might have talked on the subject in such terms as might have shocked him[ ]; or he might have been forced to appear in their eyes a narrow-minded man. the gentleman, with submissive deference, said, he had only hinted at the question from a desire to hear dr. johnson's opinion upon it. johnson. 'why then, sir, i think that permitting men to preach any opinion contrary to the doctrine of the established church tends, in a certain degree, to lessen the authority of the church, and consequently, to lessen the influence of religion.' 'it may be considered, (said the gentleman,) whether it would not be politick to tolerate in such a case.' johnson. 'sir, we have been talking of _right_: this is another question. i think it is _not_ politick to tolerate in such a case.' though he did not think it fit that so aweful a subject should be introduced in a mixed company, and therefore at this time waved the theological question; yet his own orthodox belief in the sacred mystery of the trinity is evinced beyond doubt, by the following passage in his private devotions: 'o lord, hear my prayer [prayers], for jesus christ's sake; to whom with thee and the holy ghost, _three persons and one_ god, be all honour and glory, world without end, amen[ ].' boswell. 'pray, mr. dilly, how does dr. leland's[ ] _history of ireland_ sell?' johnson, (bursting forth with a generous indignation,) 'the irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority[ ]. there is no instance, even in the ten persecutions[ ], of such severity as that which the protestants of ireland have exercised against the catholicks. did we tell them we have conquered them, it would be above board: to punish them by confiscation and other penalties, as rebels, was monstrous injustice[ ]. king william was not their lawful sovereign: he had not been acknowledged by the parliament of ireland, when they appeared in arms against him.' i here suggested something favourable of the roman catholicks. toplady. 'does not their invocation of saints suppose omnipresence in the saints?' johnson. 'no, sir; it supposes only pluri-presence, and when spirits are divested of matter, it seems probable that they should see with more extent than when in an embodied state. there is, therefore, no approach to an invasion of any of the divine attributes, in the invocation of saints. but i think it is will-worship, and presumption. i see no command for it, and therefore think it is safer not to practise it[ ].' he and mr. langton and i went together to the club, where we found mr. burke, mr. garrick, and some other members, and amongst them our friend goldsmith, who sat silently brooding over johnson's reprimand to him after dinner. johnson perceived this, and said aside to some of us, 'i'll make goldsmith forgive me;' and then called to him in a loud voice, 'dr. goldsmith,--something passed to-day where you and i dined; i ask your pardon[ ].' goldsmith answered placidly, 'it must be much from you, sir, that i take ill.' and so at once the difference was over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and goldsmith rattled away as usual[ ]. in our way to the club to-night, when i regretted that goldsmith would, upon every occasion, endeavour to shine, by which he often exposed himself, mr. langton observed, that he was not like addison, who was content with the fame of his writings, and did not aim also at excellency in conversation, for which he found himself unfit; and that he said to a lady who complained of his having talked little in company, 'madam, i have but nine-pence in ready money, but i can draw for a thousand pound[ ].' i observed, that goldsmith had a great deal of gold in his cabinet, but, not content with that, was always taking out his purse. johnson. 'yes, sir, and that so often an empty purse!' goldsmith's incessant desire of being conspicuous in company, was the occasion of his sometimes appearing to such disadvantage as one should hardly have supposed possible in a man of his genius[ ]. when his literary reputation had risen deservedly high, and his society was much courted, he became very jealous of the extraordinary attention which was every where paid to johnson. one evening, in a circle of wits, he found fault with me for talking of johnson as entitled to the honour of unquestionable superiority. 'sir, (said he,) you are for making a monarchy of what should be a republick.' he was still more mortified, when talking in a company with fluent vivacity, and, as he flattered himself, to the admiration of all who were present; a german who sat next him, and perceived johnson rolling himself, as if about to speak, suddenly stopped him, saying, 'stay, stay,--toctor shonson is going to say something.' this was, no doubt, very provoking, especially to one so irritable as goldsmith, who frequently mentioned it with strong expressions of indignation[ ]. it may also be observed, that goldsmith was sometimes content to be treated with an easy familiarity, but, upon occasions, would be consequential and important. an instance of this occurred in a small particular. johnson had a way of contracting the names of his friends; as beauclerk, beau; boswell, bozzy; langton, lanky; murphy, mur; sheridan, sherry[ ]. i remember one day, when tom davies was telling that dr. johnson said, 'we are all in labour for a name to _goldy's_ play,' goldsmith seemed displeased that such a liberty should be taken with his name, and said, 'i have often desired him not to call me _goldy_[ ].' tom was remarkably attentive to the most minute circumstance about johnson. i recollect his telling me once, on my arrival in london, 'sir, our great friend has made an improvement on his appellation of old mr. sheridan. he calls him now _sherry derry_.' 'to the reverend mr. bagshaw, at bromley[ ]. 'sir, 'i return you my sincere thanks for your additions to my _dictionary_; but the new edition has been published some time, and therefore i cannot now make use of them. whether i shall ever revise it more, i know not. if many readers had been as judicious, as diligent, and as communicative as yourself, my work had been better. the world must at present take it as it is. i am, sir, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' on sunday, may [ ], i dined with johnson at mr. langton's[ ] with dr. beattie and some other company. he descanted on the subject of literary property. 'there seems (said he,) to be in authours a stronger right of property than that by occupancy; a metaphysical[ ] right, a right, as it were, of creation, which should from its nature be perpetual; but the consent of nations is against it, and indeed reason and the interests of learning are against it; for were it to be perpetual, no book, however useful, could be universally diffused amongst mankind, should the proprietor take it into his head to restrain its circulation. no book could have the advantage of being edited with notes, however necessary to its elucidation, should the proprietor perversely oppose it. for the general good of the world, therefore, whatever valuable work has once been created by an authour, and issued out by him, should be understood as no longer in his power, but as belonging to the publick; at the same time the authour is entitled to an adequate reward. this he should have by an exclusive right to his work for a considerable number of years[ ].' he attacked lord monboddo's strange speculation on the primitive state of human nature[ ]; observing, 'sir, it is all conjecture about a thing useless, even were it known to be true. knowledge of all kinds is good. conjecture, as to things useful, is good; but conjecture as to what it would be useless to know, such as whether men went upon all four, is very idle.' on monday, may [ ], as i was to set out on my return to scotland next morning, i was desirous to see as much of dr. johnson as i could. but i first called on goldsmith to take leave of him. the jealousy and envy which, though possessed of many most amiable qualities, he frankly avowed, broke out violently at this interview. upon another occasion, when goldsmith confessed himself to be of an envious disposition, i contended with johnson that we ought not to be angry with him, he was so candid in owning it. 'nay, sir, (said johnson,) we must be angry that a man has such a superabundance of an odious quality, that he cannot keep it within his own breast, but it boils over.' in my opinion, however, goldsmith had not more of it than other people have, but only talked of it freely[ ]. he now seemed very angry that johnson was going to be a traveller; said 'he would be a dead weight for me to carry, and that i should never be able to lug him along through the highlands and hebrides.' nor would he patiently allow me to enlarge upon johnson's wonderful abilities; but exclaimed, 'is he like burke, who winds into a subject like a serpent?' 'but, (said i,) johnson is the hercules who strangled serpents in his cradle.' i dined with dr. johnson at general paoli's. he was obliged, by indisposition, to leave the company early; he appointed me, however, to meet him in the evening at mr. (now sir robert) chambers's in the temple, where he accordingly came, though he continued to be very ill. chambers, as is common on such occasions, prescribed various remedies to him. johnson. (fretted by pain,) 'pr'ythee don't tease me. stay till i am well, and then you shall tell me how to cure myself.' he grew better, and talked with a noble enthusiasm of keeping up the representation of respectable families. his zeal on this subject was a circumstance in his character exceedingly remarkable, when it is considered that he himself had no pretensions to blood. i heard him once say, 'i have great merit in being zealous for subordination and the honours of birth; for i can hardly tell who was my grandfather[ ].' he maintained the dignity and propriety of male succession, in opposition to the opinion of one of our friends[ ], who had that day employed mr. chambers to draw his will, devising his estate to his three sisters, in preference to a remote heir male. johnson called them 'three _dowdies_,' and said, with as high a spirit as the boldest baron in the most perfect days of the feudal system, 'an ancient estate should always go to males. it is mighty foolish to let a stranger have it because he marries your daughter, and takes your name. as for an estate newly acquired by trade, you may give it, if you will, to the dog _towser_, and let him keep his _own_ name.' i have known him at times exceedingly diverted at what seemed to others a very small sport[ ]. he now laughed immoderately, without any reason that we could perceive, at our friend's making his will; called him the _testator_, and added, 'i dare say, he thinks he has done a mighty thing. he won't stay till he gets home to his seat in the country, to produce this wonderful deed: he'll call up the landlord of the first inn on the road; and, after a suitable preface upon mortality and the uncertainty of life, will tell him that he should not delay making his will; and here, sir, will he say, is my will, which i have just made, with the assistance of one of the ablest lawyers in the kingdom; and he will read it to him (laughing all the time). he believes he has made this will; but he did not make it: you, chambers, made it for him. i trust you have had more conscience than to make him say, "being of sound understanding;" ha, ha, ha! i hope he has left me a legacy. i'd have his will turned into verse, like a ballad.' in this playful manner did he run on, exulting in his own pleasantry, which certainly was not such as might be expected from the authour of _the rambler_, but which is here preserved, that my readers may be acquainted even with the slightest occasional characteristicks of so eminent a man. mr. chambers did not by any means relish this jocularity upon a matter of which _pars magna fuit_[ ], and seemed impatient till he got rid of us. johnson could not stop his merriment, but continued it all the way till we got without the temple-gate. he then burst into such a fit of laughter, that he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order to support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the silence of the night his voice seemed to resound from temple-bar to fleet-ditch. this most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, and venerable johnson[ ], happened well to counteract the feelings of sadness which i used to experience when parting with him for a considerable time. i accompanied him to his door, where he gave me his blessing. he records of himself this year, 'between easter and whitsuntide, having always considered that time as propitious to study, i attempted to learn the low dutch language[ ].' it is to be observed, that he here admits an opinion of the human mind being influenced by seasons, which he ridicules in his writings[ ]. his progress, he says, was interrupted by a fever, 'which, by the imprudent use of a small print, left an inflammation in his useful eye[ ].' we cannot but admire his spirit when we know, that amidst a complication of bodily and mental distress, he was still animated with the desire of intellectual improvement[ ]. various notes of his studies appear on different days, in his manuscript diary of this year, such as, 'inchoavi lectionem pentateuchi--finivi lectionem conf. fab. burdonum[ ].--legi primum actum troadum.--legi dissertationem clerici postremam de pent.-- of clark's sermons.--l. appolonii pugnam betriciam.--l. centum versus homeri.' let this serve as a specimen of what accessions of literature he was perpetually infusing into his mind, while he charged himself with idleness. this year died mrs. salusbury, (mother of mrs. thrale,) a lady whom he appears to have esteemed much, and whose memory he honoured with an epitaph[ ]. in a letter from edinburgh, dated the th of may, i pressed him to persevere in his resolution to make this year the projected visit to the hebrides, of which he and i had talked for many years, and which i was confident would afford us much entertainment. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'when your letter came to me, i was so darkened by an inflammation in my eye, that i could not for some time read it. i can now write without trouble, and can read large prints. my eye is gradually growing stronger; and i hope will be able to take some delight in the survey of a caledonian loch. 'chambers is going a judge, with six thousand a year, to bengal[ ]. he and i shall come down together as far as newcastle, and thence i shall easily get to edinburgh. let me know the exact time when your courts intermit. i must conform a little to chambers's occasions, and he must conform a little to mine. the time which you shall fix, must be the common point to which we will come as near as we can. except this eye, i am very well. 'beattie is so caressed, and invited, and treated, and liked, and flattered, by the great, that i can see nothing of him. i am in great hope that he will be well provided for, and then we will live upon him at the marischal college, without pity or modesty[ ]. '----[ ] left the town without taking leave of me, and is gone in deep dudgeon to ----[ ]. is not this very childish? where is now my legacy[ ]? 'i hope your dear lady and her dear baby are both well. i shall see them too when i come; and i have that opinion of your choice, as to suspect that when i have seen mrs. boswell, i shall be less willing to go away. i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'johnson's-court, fleet-street, july , .' 'write to me as soon as you can. chambers is now at oxford.' i again wrote to him, informing him that the court of session rose on the twelfth of august, hoping to see him before that time, and expressing perhaps in too extravagant terms, my admiration of him, and my expectation of pleasure from our intended tour. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i shall set out from london on friday the sixth [ ] of this month, and purpose not to loiter much by the way. which day i shall be at edinburgh, i cannot exactly tell. i suppose i must drive to an inn, and send a porter to find you. 'i am afraid beattie will not be at his college soon enough for us, and i shall be sorry to miss him; but there is no staying for the concurrence of all conveniences. we will do as well as we can. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'august , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'not being at mr. thrale's when your letter came, i had written the enclosed paper and sealed it; bringing it hither for a frank, i found yours. if any thing could repress my ardour, it would be such a letter as yours. to disappoint a friend is unpleasing; and he that forms expectations like yours, must be disappointed. think only when you see me, that you see a man who loves you, and is proud and glad that you love him. 'i am, sir, 'your most affectionate 'sam. johnson.' 'august , .' to the same. 'newcastle, aug. , . 'dear sir, 'i came hither last night, and hope, but do not absolutely promise, to be in edinburgh on saturday. beattie will not come so soon. i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'my compliments to your lady.' to the same. 'mr. johnson sends his compliments to mr. boswell, being just arrived at boyd's,' 'saturday night.' his stay in scotland was from the th of august[ ], on which day he arrived, till the nd of november, when he set out on his return to london; and i believe ninety-four days[ ] were never passed by any man in a more vigorous exertion. he came by the way of berwick upon tweed to edinburgh, where he remained a few days, and then went by st. andrew's, aberdeen, inverness, and fort augustus, to the hebrides, to visit which was the principal object he had in view. he visited the isles of sky, rasay, col, mull, inchkenneth, and icolmkill. he travelled through argyleshire by inverary, and from thence by lochlomond and dumbarton to glasgow, then by loudon to auchinleck in ayrshire, the seat of my family, and then by hamilton, back to edinburgh, where he again spent some time. he thus saw the four universities of scotland[ ], its three principal cities, and as much of the highland and insular life as was sufficient for his philosophical contemplation. i had the pleasure of accompanying him during the whole of this journey. he was respectfully entertained by the great, the learned, and the elegant, wherever he went; nor was he less delighted with the hospitality which he experienced in humbler life[ ]. his various adventures, and the force and vivacity of his mind, as exercised during this peregrination, upon innumerable topicks, have been faithfully, and to the best of my abilities, displayed in my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, to which, as the publick has been pleased to honour it by a very extensive circulation[ ], i beg leave to refer, as to a separate and remarkable portion of his life[ ], which may be there seen in detail, and which exhibits as striking a view of his powers in conversation, as his works do of his excellence in writing. nor can i deny to myself the very flattering gratification of inserting here the character which my friend mr. courtenay has been pleased to give of that work: 'with reynolds' pencil, vivid, bold, and true, so fervent boswell gives him to our view: in every trait we see his mind expand; the master rises by the pupil's hand; we love the writer, praise his happy vein, grac'd with the naiveté of the sage montaigne. hence not alone are brighter parts display'd, but e'en the specks of character pourtray'd: we _see_ the rambler with fastidious smile mark the lone tree, and note the heath-clad isle; but when th' heroick tale of flora's[ ] charms, deck'd in a kilt, he wields a chieftain's arms: the tuneful piper sounds a martial strain, and samuel sings, "the king shall have his _ain_."' during his stay at edinburgh, after his return from the hebrides, he was at great pains to obtain information concerning scotland; and it will appear from his subsequent letters, that he was not less solicitous for intelligence on this subject after his return to london. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i came home last night, without any incommodity, danger, or weariness, and am ready to begin a new journey. i shall go to oxford on monday[ ]. i know mrs. boswell wished me well to go[ ]; her wishes have not been disappointed. mrs. williams has received sir a's[ ] letter. 'make my compliments to all those to whom my compliments may be welcome. 'let the box[ ] be sent as soon as it can, and let me know when to expect it. 'enquire, if you can, the order of the clans: macdonald is first, maclean second; further i cannot go. quicken dr. webster[ ]. 'i am, sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, dec. , . 'you shall have what information i can procure as to the order of the clans. a gentleman of the name of grant tells me, that there is no settled order among them; and he says, that the macdonalds were not placed upon the right of the army at culloden[ ]; the stuarts were. i shall, however, examine witnesses of every name that i can find here. dr. webster shall be quickened too. i like your little memorandums; they are symptoms of your being in earnest with your book of northern travels. 'your box shall be sent next week by sea. you will find in it some pieces of the broom bush, which you saw growing on the old castle of auchinleck. the wood has a curious appearance when sawn across. you may either have a little writing-stand made of it, or get it formed into boards for a treatise on witchcraft, by way of a suitable binding.' * * * * * 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, dec. , . * * * * * 'you promised me an inscription for a print to be taken from an historical picture of mary queen of scots being forced to resign her crown, which mr. hamilton at rome has painted for me. the two following have been sent to me: "_maria scotorum regina meliori seculo digna, jus regiitm civibus seditiosis invita resignat_." "_cives seditiosi mariam scotorum reginam sese muneri abdicare invitam cogunt_." 'be so good as to read the passage in robertson, and see if you cannot give me a better inscription. i must have it both in latin and english; so if you should not give me another latin one, you will at least choose the best of these two, and send a translation of it.' * * * * * his humane forgiving disposition was put to a pretty strong test on his return to london, by a liberty which mr. thomas davies had taken with him in his absence, which was, to publish two volumes, entitled, _miscellaneous and fugitive pieces_, which he advertised in the news-papers, 'by the authour of the rambler.' in this collection, several of dr. johnson's acknowledged writings, several of his anonymous performances, and some which he had written for others, were inserted; but there were also some in which he had no concern whatever[ ]. he was at first very angry, as he had good reason to be. but, upon consideration of his poor friend's narrow circumstances, and that he had only a little profit in view, and meant no harm, he soon relented, and continued his kindness to him as formerly[ ]. in the course of his self-examination with retrospect to this year, he seems to have been much dejected; for he says, january , , 'this year has passed with so little improvement, that i doubt whether i have not rather impaired than increased my learning';[ ] and yet we have seen how he _read_, and we know how he _talked_ during that period. he was now seriously engaged in writing an account of our travels in the hebrides, in consequence of which i had the pleasure of a more frequent correspondence with him. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'my operations have been hindered by a cough; at least i flatter myself, that if my cough had not come, i should have been further advanced. but i have had no intelligence from dr. w----, [webster,] nor from the excise-office, nor from you. no account of the little borough[ ]. nothing of the erse language. i have yet heard nothing of my box. 'you must make haste and gather me all you can, and do it quickly, or i will and shall do without it. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, and tell her that i do not love her the less for wishing me away. i gave her trouble enough, and shall be glad, in recompense, to give her any pleasure. 'i would send some porter into the hebrides, if i knew which way it could be got to my kind friends there. enquire, and let me know. 'make my compliments to all the doctors of edinburgh, and to all my friends, from one end of scotland to the other. 'write to me, and send me what intelligence you can: and if any thing is too bulky for the post, let me have it by the carrier. i do not like trusting winds and waves. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'in a day or two after i had written the last discontented letter, i received my box, which was very welcome. but still i must entreat you to hasten dr. webster, and continue to pick up what you can that may be useful. 'mr. oglethorpe was with me this morning, you know his errand. he was not unwelcome. 'tell mrs. boswell that my good intentions towards her still continue i should be glad to do any thing that would either benefit or please her. 'chambers is not yet gone, but so hurried, or so negligent, or so proud, that i rarely see him. i have, indeed, for some weeks past, been very ill of a cold and cough, and have been at mrs. thrale's, that i might be taken care of. i am much better: _novae redeunt in praelia vires_[ ]; but i am yet tender, and easily disordered. how happy it was that neither of us were ill in the hebrides. 'the question of literary property is this day before the lords[ ]. murphy[ ] drew up the appellants' case, that is, the plea against the perpetual right. i have not seen it, nor heard the decision. i would not have the right perpetual. 'i will write to you as any thing occurs, and do you send me something about my scottish friends. i have very great kindness for them. let me know likewise how fees come in, and when we are to see you. 'i am. sir, yours affectionately, sam. johnson. london, feb. , . he at this time wrote the following letters to mr. steevens, his able associate in editing shakspeare: to george steevens, esq., in hampstead. 'sir, 'if i am asked when i have seen mr. steevens, you know what answer i must give; if i am asked when i shall see him, i wish you would tell me what to say. 'if you have lesley's _history of scotland_, or any other book about scotland, except boetius and buchanan, it will be a kindness if you send them to, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson. 'feb. , .' to the same. 'sir, 'we are thinking to augment our club, and i am desirous of nominating you, if you care to stand the ballot, and can attend on friday nights at least twice in five weeks: less than this is too little, and rather more will be expected. be pleased to let me know before friday. 'i am, sir, 'your most, &c., 'sam. johnson. 'feb. , . to the same. 'sir, 'last night you became a member of the club; if you call on me on friday, i will introduce you. a gentleman, proposed after you, was rejected. 'i thank you for _neander_, but wish he were not so fine.[ ] i will take care of him. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'dr. webster's informations were much less exact and much less determinate than i expected: they are, indeed, much less positive than, if he can trust his own book[ ] which he laid before me, he is able to give. but i believe it will always be found, that he who calls much for information will advance his work but slowly. 'i am, however, obliged to you, dear sir, for your endeavours to help me, and hope, that between us something will some time be done, if not on this, on some occasion. 'chambers is either married, or almost married, to miss wilton, a girl of sixteen, exquisitely beautiful, whom he has, with his lawyer's tongue, persuaded to take her chance with him in the east. 'we have added to the club[ ], charles fox[ ], sir charles bunbury [ ], dr. fordyce[ ], and mr. steevens[ ]. 'return my thanks to dr. webster. tell dr. robertson i have not much to reply to his censure of my negligence; and tell dr. blair, that since he has written hither what i said to him, we must now consider ourselves as even, forgive one another, and begin again[ ]. i care not how soon, for he is a very pleasing man. pay my compliments to all my friends, and remind lord elibank of his promise to give me all his works. 'i hope mrs. boswell and little miss are well.--when shall i see them again? she is a sweet lady, only she was so glad to see me go, that i have almost a mind to come again, that she may again have the same pleasure. 'enquire if it be practicable to send a small present of a cask of porter to dunvegan, rasay, and col. i would not wish to be thought forgetful of civilities. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' on the th of march i wrote to him, requesting his counsel whether i should this spring come to london. i stated to him on the one hand some pecuniary embarrassments, which, together with my wife's situation at that time, made me hesitate; and, on the other, the pleasure and improvement which my annual visit to the metropolis always afforded me; and particularly mentioned a peculiar satisfaction which i experienced in celebrating the festival of easter in st. paul's cathedral; that to my fancy it appeared like going up to jerusalem at the feast of the passover; and that the strong devotion which i felt on that occasion diffused its influence on my mind through the rest of the year[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. [not dated[ ], but written about the th of march.] 'dear sir, 'i am ashamed to think that since i received your letter i have passed so many days without answering it. 'i think there is no great difficulty in resolving your doubts. the reasons for which you are inclined to visit london, are, i think, not of sufficient strength to answer the objections. that you should delight to come once a year to the fountain of intelligence and pleasure, is very natural; but both information and pleasure must be regulated by propriety. pleasure, which cannot be obtained but by unseasonable or unsuitable expence, must always end in pain; and pleasure, which must be enjoyed at the expence of another's pain, can never be such as a worthy mind can fully delight in. 'what improvement you might gain by coming to london, you may easily supply, or easily compensate, by enjoining yourself some particular study at home, or opening some new avenue to information. edinburgh is not yet exhausted; and i am sure you will find no pleasure here which can deserve either that you should anticipate any part of your future fortune, or that you should condemn yourself and your lady to penurious frugality for the rest of the year. 'i need not tell you what regard you owe to mrs. boswell's entreaties; or how much you ought to study the happiness of her who studies yours with so much diligence, and of whose kindness you enjoy such good effects. life cannot subsist in society but by reciprocal concessions. she permitted you to ramble last year, you must permit her now to keep you at home. 'your last reason is so serious, that i am unwilling to oppose it. yet you must remember, that your image of worshipping once a year in a certain place, in imitation of the jews, is but a comparison; and _simile non est idem_; if the annual resort to jerusalem was a duty to the jews, it was a duty because it was commanded; and you have no such command, therefore no such duty. it may be dangerous to receive too readily, and indulge too fondly, opinions, from which, perhaps, no pious mind is wholly disengaged, of local sanctity and local devotion. you know what strange effects they have produced over a great part of the christian world. i am now writing, and you, when you read this, are reading under the eye of omnipresence. 'to what degree fancy is to be admitted into religious offices, it would require much deliberation to determine. i am far from intending totally to exclude it. fancy is a faculty bestowed by our creator, and it is reasonable that all his gifts should be used to his glory, that all our faculties should co-operate in his worship; but they are to co-operate according to the will of him that gave them, according to the order which his wisdom has established. as ceremonies prudential or convenient are less obligatory than positive ordinances, as bodily worship is only the token to others or ourselves of mental adoration, so fancy is always to act in subordination to reason. we may take fancy for a companion, but must follow reason as our guide. we may allow fancy to suggest certain ideas in certain places; but reason must always be heard, when she tells us, that those ideas and those places have no natural or necessary relation. when we enter a church we habitually recall to mind the duty of adoration, but we must not omit adoration for want of a temple; because we know, and ought to remember, that the universal lord is every where present; and that, therefore, to come to jona[ ], or to jerusalem, though it may be useful, cannot be necessary. 'thus i have answered your letter, and have not answered it negligently. i love you too well to be careless when you are serious. 'i think i shall be very diligent next week about our travels, which i have too long neglected. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'compliments to madam and miss.' to the same. 'dear sir, 'the lady who delivers this has a lawsuit, in which she desires to make use of your skill and eloquence, and she seems to think that she shall have something more of both for a recommendation from me; which, though i know how little you want any external incitement to your duty, i could not refuse her, because i know that at least it will not hurt her, to tell you that i wish her well. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' 'mr, boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, may , . 'lord hailes has begged of me to offer you his best respects, and to transmit to you specimens of _annals of scotland, from the accession of malcolm kenmore to the death of james v_,' in drawing up which, his lordship has been engaged for some time. his lordship writes to me thus: "if i could procure dr. johnson's criticisms, they would be of great use to me in the prosecution of my work, as they would be judicious and true. i have no right to ask that favour of him. if you could, it would highly oblige me." 'dr. blair requests you may be assured that he did not write to london what you said to him, and that neither by word nor letter has he made the least complaint of you; but, on the contrary, has a high respect for you, and loves you much more since he saw you in scotland. it would both divert and please you to see his eagerness about this matter.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'streatham, june , . 'dear sir, 'yesterday i put the first sheets of the _journey to the hebrides_ to the press. i have endeavoured to do you some justice in the first paragraph[ ]. it will be one volume in octavo, not thick. 'it will be proper to make some presents in scotland. you shall tell me to whom i shall give; and i have stipulated twenty-five for you to give in your own name[ ]. some will take the present better from me, others better from you. in this, you who are to live in the place ought to direct. consider it. whatever you can get for my purpose send me; and make my compliments to your lady and both the young ones. 'i am, sir, your, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, june , . 'you do not acknowledge the receipt of the various packets which i have sent to you. neither can i prevail with you to _answer_ my letters, though you honour me with _returns_[ ]. you have said nothing to me about poor goldsmith[ ], nothing about langton[ ]. 'i have received for you, from the society for propagating christian knowledge in scotland[ ], the following erse books:--_the new testament; baxter's call; the confession of faith of the assembly of divines at westminster; the mother's catechism; a gaelick and english vocabulary_[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i wish you could have looked over my book before the printer, but it could not easily be. i suspect some mistakes; but as i deal, perhaps, more in notions than in facts, the matter is not great, and the second edition will be mended, if any such there be. the press will go on slowly for a time, because i am going into wales to-morrow. 'i should be very sorry if i appeared to treat such a character as lord hailes otherwise than with high respect. i return the sheets[ ], to which i have done what mischief i could; and finding it so little, thought not much of sending them. the narrative is clear, lively, and short. 'i have done worse to lord hailes than by neglecting his sheets: i have run him in debt. dr. horne, the president of magdalen college in oxford, wrote to me about three months ago, that he purposed to reprint _walton's lives_, and desired me to contribute to the work: my answer was, that lord hailes intended the same publication; and dr. home has resigned it to him[ ]. his lordship must now think seriously about it. 'of poor dear dr. goldsmith there is little to be told, more than the papers have made publick. he died of a fever, made, i am afraid, more violent by uneasiness of mind. his debts began to be heavy, and all his resources were exhausted. sir joshua[ ] is of opinion that he owed not less than two thousand pounds[ ]. was ever poet so trusted before? 'you may, if you please, put the inscription thus:-- "_maria scotorum regina nata_ --, _a suis in exilium acta_ --, _ab hospitá neci data_ --." you must find the years. 'of your second daughter you certainly gave the account yourself, though you have forgotten it. while mrs. boswell is well, never doubt of a boy. mrs. thrale brought, i think, five girls running, but while i was with you she had a boy. 'i am obliged to you for all your pamphlets, and of the last i hope to make some use. i made some of the former. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'my compliments to all the three ladies.' 'to bennet langton, esq., at langton, near spilsby, lincolnshire. 'dear sir, 'you have reason to reproach me that i have left your last letter so long unanswered, but i had nothing particular to say. chambers, you find, is gone far, and poor goldsmith is gone much further. he died of a fever, exasperated, as i believe, by the fear of distress. he had raised money and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisition, and folly of expence. but let not his frailties be remembered; he was a very great man[ ]. 'i have just begun to print my _journey to the hebrides_, and am leaving the press to take another journey into wales, whither mr. thrale is going, to take possession of, at least, five hundred a year, fallen to his lady. all at streatham, that are alive[ ], are well. 'i have never recovered from the last dreadful illness[ ], but flatter myself that i grow gradually better; much, however, yet remains to mend. [greek: kurie eleaeson][ ]. 'if you have the latin version of _busy, curious, thirsty fly_[ ], be so kind as to transcribe and send it; but you need not be in haste, for i shall be i know not where, for at least five weeks. i wrote the following tetastrick on poor goldsmith:-- [greek: 'ton taphon eisoraas ton olibaroio koniaen aphrosi mae semnaen, xeine, podessi patei oisi memaele phusis, metron charis, erga palaion, klaiete posaetaen, istorikon, phusikon.][ ] 'please to make my most respectful compliments to all the ladies, and remember me to young george and his sisters. i reckon george begins to shew a pair of heels. 'do not be sullen now[ ], but let me find a letter when i come back. 'i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate, humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'to mr. robert levet. 'llewenny[ ], in denbighshire, aug. , . 'dear sir, 'mr. thrale's affairs have kept him here a great while, nor do i know exactly when we shall come hence. i have sent you a bill upon mr. strahan. 'i have made nothing of the ipecacuanha, but have taken abundance of pills, and hope that they have done me good. 'wales, so far as i have yet seen of it, is a very beautiful and rich country, all enclosed, and planted. denbigh is not a mean town. make my compliments to all my friends, and tell frank i hope he remembers my advice. when his money is out, let him have more. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, aug. , . 'you have given me an inscription for a portrait of mary queen of scots, in which you, in a short and striking manner, point out her hard fate. but you will be pleased to keep in mind, that my picture is a representation of a particular scene in her history; her being forced to resign her crown, while she was imprisoned in the castle of lochlevin. i must, therefore, beg that you will be kind enough to give me an inscription suited to that particular scene; or determine which of the two formerly transmitted to you is the best; and, at any rate, favour me with an english translation. it will be doubly kind if you comply with my request speedily. 'your critical notes on the specimen of lord hailes's _annals of scotland_ are excellent, i agreed with you in every one of them. he himself objected only to the alteration of _free to brave_, in the passage where he says that edward "departed with the glory due to the conquerour of a free people." he says, "to call the scots brave would only add to the glory of their conquerour." you will make allowance for the national zeal of our annalist. i now send a few more leaves of the _annals_, which i hope you will peruse, and return with observations, as you did upon the former occasion. lord hailes writes to me thus:--"mr. boswell will be pleased to express the grateful sense which sir david dalrymple[ ] has of dr. johnson's attention to his little specimen. the further specimen will show, that "even in an edward he can see desert[ ]." 'it gives me much pleasure to hear that a republication of _isaac walton's lives_ is intended. you have been in a mistake in thinking that lord hailes had it in view. i remember one morning[ ], while he sat with you in my house, he said, that there should be a new edition of _walton's lives_; and you said that "they should be benoted a little." this was all that passed on that subject. you must, therefore, inform dr. horne, that he may resume his plan, i enclose a note concerning it; and if dr. horne will write to me, all the attention that i can give shall be cheerfully bestowed, upon what i think a pious work, the preservation and elucidation of walton, by whose writings i have been most pleasingly edified.' * * * * * 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, sept. , . 'wales has probably detained you longer than i supposed. you will have become quite a mountaineer, by visiting scotland one year and wales another. you must next go to switzerland. cambria will complain, if you do not honour her also with some remarks. and i find _concessere columnæ_[ ], the booksellers expect another book. i am impatient to see your _tour to scotland and the hebrides_[ ]. might you not send me a copy by the post as soon as it is printed off?' * * * * * 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'yesterday i returned from my welch journey, i was sorry to leave my book suspended so long; but having an opportunity of seeing, with so much convenience, a new part of the island, i could not reject it. i have been in five of the six counties of north wales; and have seen st. asaph and bangor, the two seats of their bishops; have been upon penmanmaur[ ] and snowden[ ], and passed over into anglesea. but wales is so little different from england, that it offers nothing to the speculation of the traveller. 'when i came home, i found several of your papers, with some pages of lord hailes's _annals_, which i will consider. i am in haste to give you some account of myself, lest you should suspect me of negligence in the pressing business which i find recommended to my care, and which i knew nothing of till now, when all care is vain[ ]. 'in the distribution of my books i purpose to follow your advice, adding such as shall occur to me. i am not pleased with your notes of remembrance added to your names, for i hope i shall not easily forget them. 'i have received four erse books, without any direction, and suspect that they are intended for the oxford library. if that is the intention, i think it will be proper to add the metrical psalms, and whatever else is printed in _erse_, that the present may be complete. the donor's name should be told. 'i wish you could have read the book before it was printed, but our distance does not easily permit it. 'i am sorry lord hailes does not intend to publish _walton_; i am afraid it will not be done so well, if it be done at all. 'i purpose now to drive the book forward. make my compliments to mrs. boswell, and let me hear often from you. 'i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, octob. , .' this tour to wales, which was made in company with mr. and mrs. thrale, though it no doubt contributed to his health and amusement, did not give an occasion to such a discursive exercise of his mind as our tour to the hebrides. i do not find that he kept any journal or notes of what he saw there[ ]. all that i heard him say of it was, that 'instead of bleak and barren mountains, there were green and fertile ones; and that one of the castles in wales would contain all the castles that he had seen in scotland.' parliament having been dissolved[ ], and his friend mr. thrale, who was a steady supporter of government, having again to encounter the storm of a contested election, he wrote a short political pamphlet, entitled _the patriot_, addressed to the electors of great-britain; a title which, to factious men, who consider a patriot only as an opposer of the measures of government, will appear strangely misapplied. it was, however, written with energetick vivacity; and, except those passages in which it endeavours to vindicate the glaring outrage of the house of commons in the case of the middlesex election, and to justify the attempt to reduce our fellow-subjects in america to unconditional submission, it contained an admirable display of the properties of a real patriot, in the original and genuine sense;--a sincere, steady, rational, and unbiassed friend to the interests and prosperity of his king and country. it must be acknowledged, however, that both in this and his two former pamphlets, there was, amidst many powerful arguments, not only a considerable portion of sophistry, but a contemptuous ridicule of his opponents, which was very provoking. 'to mr. perkins[ ]. 'sir, 'you may do me a very great favour. mrs. williams, a gentlewoman whom you may have seen at mr. thrale's, is a petitioner for mr. hetherington's charity: petitions are this day issued at christ's hospital. 'i am a bad manager of business in a crowd; and if i should send a mean man, he may be put away without his errand. i must therefore intreat that you will go, and ask for a petition for anna williams, whose paper of enquiries was delivered with answers at the counting-house of the hospital on thursday the th. my servant will attend you thither, and bring the petition home when you have it. 'the petition, which they are to give us, is a form which they deliver to every petitioner, and which the petitioner is afterwards to fill up, and return to them again. this we must have, or we cannot proceed according to their directions. you need, i believe, only ask for a petition; if they enquire for whom you ask, you can tell them. 'i beg pardon for giving you this trouble; but it is a matter of great importance. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam johnson.' 'october , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'there has appeared lately in the papers an account of a boat overset between mull and ulva, in which many passengers were lost, and among them maclean of col. we, you know, were once drowned[ ]; i hope, therefore, that the story is either wantonly or erroneously told. pray satisfy me by the next post. 'i have printed two hundred and forty pages. i am able to do nothing much worth doing to dear lord hailes's book. i will, however, send back the sheets; and hope, by degrees, to answer all your reasonable expectations. 'mr. thrale has happily surmounted a very violent and acrimonious opposition[ ]; but all joys have their abatement: mrs. thrale has fallen from her horse, and hurt herself very much. the rest of our friends, i believe, are well. my compliments to mrs. boswell. 'i am, sir, your most affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, october. , .' this letter, which shows his tender concern for an amiable young gentleman to whom he had been very much obliged in the hebrides, i have inserted according to its date, though before receiving it i had informed him of the melancholy event that the young laird of col was unfortunately drowned[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'last night i corrected the last page of our _journey to the hebrides_. the printer has detained it all this time, for i had, before i went into wales, written all except two sheets. _the patriot_ was called for by my political friends on friday, was written on saturday, and i have heard little of it. so vague are conjectures at a distance[ ]. as soon as i can, i will take care that copies be sent to you, for i would wish that they might be given before they are bought; but i am afraid that mr. strahan will send to you and to the booksellers at the same time. trade is as diligent as courtesy. i have mentioned all that you recommended. pray make my compliments to mrs. boswell and the younglings. the club has, i think, not yet met. 'tell me, and tell me honestly, what you think and what others say of our travels. shall we touch the continent[ ]? 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'nov. , .' in his manuscript diary of this year, there is the following entry:-- 'nov. . advent sunday. i considered that this day, being the beginning of the ecclesiastical year, was a proper time for a new course of life. i began to read the greek testament regularly at verses every sunday. this day i began the acts. 'in this week i read virgil's _pastorals_. i learned to repeat the _pollio_ and _gallus_. i read carelessly the first _georgick_.' such evidences of his unceasing ardour, both for 'divine and human lore,' when advanced into his sixty-fifth year, and notwithstanding his many disturbances from disease, must make us at once honour his spirit, and lament that it should be so grievously clogged by its material tegument. it is remarkable, that he was very fond of the precision which calculation produces[ ]. thus we find in one of his manuscript diaries, ' pages in to. gr. test, and pages in beza's folio, comprize the whole in days.' 'dr. johnson to john hoole, esq.[ ] 'dear sir, 'i have returned your play[ ], which you will find underscored with red, where there was a word which i did not like. the red will be washed off with a little water. 'the plot is so well framed, the intricacy so artful, and the disentanglement so easy, the suspense so affecting, and the passionate parts so properly interposed, that i have no doubt of its success. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'december , .' : aetat. .--the first effort of his pen in was, 'proposals for publishing the works of mrs. charlotte lennox[ ],'[dagger] in three volumes quarto. in his diary, january , i find this entry: 'wrote charlotte's proposals.' but, indeed, the internal evidence would have been quite sufficient. her claim to the favour of the public was thus enforced:-- 'most of the pieces, as they appeared singly, have been read with approbation, perhaps above their merits, but of no great advantage to the writer. she hopes, therefore, that she shall not be considered as too indulgent to vanity, or too studious of interest, if, from that labour which has hitherto been chiefly gainful to others, she endeavours to obtain at last some profit for herself and her children. she cannot decently enforce her claim by the praise of her own performances; nor can she suppose, that, by the most artful and laboured address, any additional notice could be procured to a publication, of which her majesty has condescended to be the patroness.' he this year also wrote the preface to baretti's _easy lessons in italian and english_[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'you never did ask for a book by the post till now, and i did not think on it. you see now it is done. i sent one to the king, and i hear he likes it[ ]. 'i shall send a parcel into scotland for presents, and intend to give to many of my friends. in your catalogue you left out lord auchinleck. 'let me know, as fast as you read it, how you like it; and let me know if any mistake is committed, or any thing important left out. i wish you could have seen the sheets. my compliments to mrs. boswell, and to veronica[ ], and to all my friends. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'january , . 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, jan. , . 'be pleased to accept of my best thanks for your _journey to the hebrides_, which came to me by last night's post. i did really ask the favour twice; but you have been even with me by granting it so speedily. _bis dat qui cito dat_[ ]. though ill of a bad cold, you kept me up the greatest part of the last night; for i did not stop till i had read every word of your book. i looked back to our first talking of a visit a visit to the hebrides, which was many years ago, when sitting by ourselves in the mitre tavern[ ], in london, i think about _witching time o' night_[ ]; and then exulted in contemplating our scheme fulfilled, and a _monumentum perenne_[ ] of it erected by your superiour abilities. i shall only say, that your book has afforded me a high gratification. i shall afterwards give you my thoughts on particular passages. in the mean time, i hasten to tell you of your having mistaken two names, which you will correct in london, as i shall do here, that the gentlemen who deserve the valuable compliments which you have paid them, may enjoy their honours. in page , for _gordon_ read _murchison_; and in page , for _maclean_ read _macleod_[ ]. * * * * * 'but i am now to apply to you for immediate aid in my profession, which you have never refused to grant when i requested it. i enclose you a petition for dr. memis, a physician at aberdeen, in which sir john dalrymple has exerted his talents, and which i am to answer as counsel for the managers of the royal infirmary in that city. mr. jopp, the provost, who delivered to you your freedom[ ], is one of my clients, and, _as a citizen of aberdeen_, you will support him. 'the fact is shortly this. in a translation of the charter of the infirmary from latin into english, made under the authority of the managers, the same phrase in the original is in one place rendered _physician_, but when applied to dr. memis is rendered _doctor of medicine_. dr. memis complained of this before the translation was printed, but was not indulged with having it altered; and he has brought an action for damages, on account of a supposed injury, as if the designation given to him was an inferiour one, tending to make it be supposed he is _not a physician_, and, consequently, to hurt his practice. my father has dismissed the action as groundless, and now he has appealed to the whole court[ ].' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i long to hear how you like the book; it is, i think, much liked here. but macpherson is very furious[ ]; can you give me any more intelligence about him, or his fingal? do what you can and do it quickly. is lord hailes on our side? 'pray let me know what i owed you when i left you, that i may send it to you. 'i am going to write about the americans[ ]. if you have picked up any hints among your lawyers, who are great masters of the law of nations, or if your own mind suggests any thing, let me know. but mum, it is a secret. 'i will send your parcel of books as soon as i can; but i cannot do as i wish. however, you find every thing mentioned in the book which you recommended. 'langton is here; we are all that ever we were[ ]. he is a worthy fellow, without malice, though not without resentment. 'poor beauclerk is so ill, that his life is thought to be in danger[ ]. lady di nurses him with very great assiduity. 'reynolds has taken too much to strong liquor[ ], and seems to delight in his new character. 'this is all the news that i have; but as you love verses, i will send you a few which i made upon inchkenneth[ ]; but remember the condition, you shall not show them, except to lord hailes, whom i love better than any man whom i know so little. if he asks you to transcribe them for him, you may do it, but i think he must promise not to let them be copied again, nor to show them as mine. 'i have at last sent back lord hailes's sheets. i never think about returning them, because i alter nothing. you will see that i might as well have kept them. however, i am ashamed of my delay; and if i have the honour of receiving any more, promise punctually to return them by the next post. make my compliments to dear mrs. boswell, and to miss veronica. 'i am, dear sir, 'yours most faithfully, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'jan. , . 'mr, boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, jan. , . * * * * * 'you rate our lawyers here too high, when you call them great masters of the law of nations. * * * * * 'as for myself, i am ashamed to say i have read little and thought little on the subject of america. i will be much obliged to you, if you will direct me where i shall find the best information of what is to be said on both sides. it is a subject vast in its present extent and future consequences. the imperfect hints which now float in my mind, tend rather to the formation of an opinion that our government has been precipitant and severe in the resolutions taken against the bostonians[ ]. well do you know that i have no kindness for that race. but nations, or bodies of men, should, as well as individuals, have a fair trial, and not be condemned on character alone. have we not express contracts with our colonies, which afford a more certain foundation of judgement, than general political speculations on the mutual rights of states and their provinces or colonies? pray let me know immediately what to read, and i shall diligently endeavour to gather for you any thing that i can find. is burke's speech on american taxation published by himself? is it authentick? i remember to have heard you say, that you had never considered east-indian affairs; though, surely, they are of much importance to great-britain. under the recollection of this, i shelter myself from the reproach of ignorance about the americans. if you write upon the subject i shall certainly understand it. but, since you seem to expect that i should know something of it, without your instruction, and that my own mind should suggest something, i trust you will put me in the way. * * * * * 'what does becket[ ] mean by the _originals_ of fingal and other poems of ossian, which he advertises to have lain in his shop?' * * * * * 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'you sent me a case to consider, in which i have no facts but what are against us, nor any principles on which to reason. it is vain to try to write thus without materials. the fact seems to be against you; at least i cannot know nor say any thing to the contrary. i am glad that you like the book so well. i hear no more of macpherson. i shall long to know what lord hailes says of it. lend it him privately. i shall send the parcel as soon as i can. make my compliments to mrs. boswell. 'i am, sir, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , * * * * * 'as to macpherson, i am anxious to have from yourself a full and pointed account of what has passed between you and him. it is confidently told here, that before your book came out he sent to you, to let you know that he understood you meant to deny the authenticity of ossian's poems; that the originals were in his possession; that you might have inspection of them, and might take the evidence of people skilled in the erse language; and that he hoped, after this fair offer, you would not be so uncandid as to assert that he had refused reasonable proof. that you paid no regard to his message, but published your strong attack upon him; and then he wrote a letter to you, in such terms as he thought suited to one who had not acted as a man of veracity. you may believe it gives me pain to hear your conduct represented as unfavourable, while i can only deny what is said, on the ground that your character refutes it, without having any information to oppose. let me, i beg it of you, be furnished with a sufficient answer to any calumny upon this occasion. 'lord hailes writes to me, (for we correspond more than we talk together,) "as to fingal, i see a controversy arising, and purpose to keep out of its way. there is no doubt that i might mention some circumstances; but i do not choose to commit them to paper[ ]." what his opinion is, i do not know. he says, "i am singularly obliged to dr. johnson for his accurate and useful criticisms. had he given some strictures on the general plan of the work, it would have added much to his favours." he is charmed with your verses on inchkenneth, says they are very elegant, but bids me tell you he doubts whether be according to the rubrick; but that is your concern; for, you know, he is a presbyterian.' "legitimas faciunt pectora pura preces.[ ]" * * * * * 'to dr. lawrence[ ]. 'feb. , . 'sir, 'one of the scotch physicians is now prosecuting a corporation that in some publick instrument have stiled him _doctor of medicine_ instead of _physician_. boswell desires, being advocate for the corporation, to know whether _doctor of medicine_ is not a legitimate title, and whether it may be considered as a disadvantageous distinction. i am to write to-night; be pleased to tell me. 'i am, sir, your most, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'my dear boswell, 'i am surprised that, knowing as you do the disposition of your countrymen to tell lies in favour of each other[ ], you can be at all affected by any reports that circulate among them. macpherson never in his life offered me a sight of any original or of any evidence of any kind; but thought only of intimidating me by noise and threats, till my last answer,--that i would not be deterred from detecting what i thought a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian--put an end to our correspondence. 'the state of the question is this. he, and dr. blair, whom i consider as deceived, say, that he copied the poem from old manuscripts. his copies, if he had them, and i believe him to have none, are nothing. where are the manuscripts? they can be shown if they exist, but they were never shown. _de non existentibus et non apparentibus_, says our law, _eadem est ratio_. no man has a claim to credit upon his own word, when better evidence, if he had it, may be easily produced. but, so far as we can find, the erse language was never written till very lately for the purposes of religion. a nation that cannot write, or a language that was never written, has no manuscripts. 'but whatever he has he never offered to show. if old manuscripts should now be mentioned, i should, unless there were more evidence than can be easily had, suppose them another proof of scotch conspiracy in national falsehood. 'do not censure the expression; you know it to be true. 'dr. memis's question is so narrow as to allow no speculation; and i have no facts before me but those which his advocate has produced against you. 'i consulted this morning the president of the london college of physicians[ ], who says, that with us, _doctor of physick_ (we do not say _doctor of medicine_) is the highest title that a practicer of physick can have; that _doctor_ implies not only _physician_, but teacher of physick; that every _doctor_ is legally a _physician_; but no man, not a _doctor_, can _practice physick_ but by _licence_ particularly granted. the doctorate is a licence of itself. it seems to us a very slender cause of prosecution. * * * * * 'i am now engaged, but in a little time i hope to do all you would have. my compliments to madam and veronica. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'february , .' what words were used by mr. macpherson in his letter to the venerable sage, i have never heard; but they are generally said to have been of a nature very different from the language of literary contest. dr. johnson's answer appeared in the newspapers of the day, and has since been frequently re-published; but not with perfect accuracy. i give it as dictated to me by himself, written down in his presence, and authenticated by a note in his own hand-writing, '_this, i think, is a true copy_[ ].' 'mr. james macpherson, 'i received your foolish and impudent letter. any violence offered me i shall do my best to repel; and what i cannot do for myself, the law shall do for me. i hope i shall never be deterred from detecting what i think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian. 'what would you have me retract? i thought your book an imposture; i think it an imposture still. for this opinion i have given my reasons to the publick, which i here dare you to refute. your rage i defy. your abilities, since your homer[ ], are not so formidable; and what i hear of your morals, inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. you may print this if you will. 'sam. johnson[ ].' mr. macpherson little knew the character of dr. johnson, if he supposed that he could be easily intimidated; for no man was ever more remarkable for personal courage. he had, indeed, an aweful dread of death, or rather, 'of something after death[ ];' and what rational man, who seriously thinks of quitting all that he has ever known, and going into a new and unknown state of being, can be without that dread? but his fear was from reflection; his courage natural. his fear, in that one instance, was the result of philosophical and religious consideration. he feared death, but he feared nothing else, not even what might occasion death[ ]. many instances of his resolution may be mentioned. one day, at mr. beauclerk's house in the country, when two large dogs were fighting, he went up to them, and beat them till they separated[ ]; and at another time, when told of the danger there was that a gun might burst if charged with many balls, he put in six or seven, and fired it off against a wall. mr. langton told me, that when they were swimming together near oxford, he cautioned dr. johnson against a pool, which was reckoned particularly dangerous; upon which johnson directly swam into it. he told me himself that one night he was attacked in the street by four men, to whom he would not yield, but kept them all at bay, till the watch came up, and carried both him and them to the round-house[ ]. in the playhouse at lichfield, as mr. garrick informed me, johnson having for a moment quitted a chair which was placed for him between the side-scenes, a gentleman took possession of it, and when johnson on his return civilly demanded his seat, rudely refused to give it up; upon which johnson laid hold of it, and tossed him and the chair into the pit. foote, who so successfully revived the old comedy, by exhibiting living characters, had resolved to imitate johnson on the stage, expecting great profits from his ridicule of so celebrated a man. johnson being informed of his intention, and being at dinner at mr. thomas davies's the bookseller, from whom i had the story, he asked mr. davies 'what was the common price of an oak stick;' and being answered six-pence, 'why then, sir, (said he,) give me leave to send your servant to purchase me a shilling one. i'll have a double quantity; for i am told foote means to _take me off_, as he calls it, and i am determined the fellow shall not do it with impunity.' davies took care to acquaint foote of this, which effectually checked the wantonness of the mimick[ ]. mr. macpherson's menaces made johnson provide himself with the same implement of defence[ ]; and had he been attacked, i have no doubt that, old as he was, he would have made his corporal prowess be felt as much as his intellectual. his _journey to the western islands of scotland_[ ] is a most valuable performance. it abounds in extensive philosophical views of society, and in ingenious sentiment and lively description. a considerable part of it, indeed, consists of speculations, which many years before he saw the wild regions which we visited together, probably had employed his attention, though the actual sight of those scenes undoubtedly quickened and augmented them. mr. orme, the very able historian[ ], agreed with me in this opinion, which he thus strongly expressed:--'there are in that book thoughts, which, by long revolution in the great mind of johnson, have been formed and polished like pebbles rolled in the ocean!' that he was to some degree of excess a _true-born englishman_[ ], so as to have entertained an undue prejudice against both the country and the people of scotland, must be allowed[ ]. but it was a prejudice of the head, and not of the heart. he had no ill-will to the scotch; for, if he had been conscious of that, he would never have thrown himself into the bosom of their country, and trusted to the protection of its remote inhabitants with a fearless confidence. his remark upon the nakedness of the country, from its being denuded of trees[ ], was made after having travelled two hundred miles along the eastern coast, where certainly trees are not to be found near the road; and he said it was 'a map of the road[ ]' which he gave. his disbelief of the authenticity of the poems ascribed to ossian, a highland bard, was confirmed in the course of his journey, by a very strict examination of the evidence offered for it; and although their authenticity was made too much a national point by the scotch, there were many respectable persons in that country, who did not concur in this; so that his judgement upon the question ought not to be decried, even by those who differ from him. as to myself, i can only say, upon a subject now become very uninteresting, that when the fragments of highland poetry first came out, i was much pleased with their wild peculiarity, and was one of those who subscribed to enable their editor, mr. macpherson, then a young man, to make a search in the highlands and hebrides for a long poem in the erse language, which was reported to be preserved somewhere in those regions. but when there came forth an epick poem in six books, with all the common circumstances of former compositions of that nature; and when, upon an attentive examination of it, there was found a perpetual recurrence of the same images which appear in the fragments; and when no ancient manuscript, to authenticate the work, was deposited in any publick library, though that was insisted on as a reasonable proof, _who_ could forbear to doubt[ ]? johnson's grateful acknowledgements of kindnesses received in the course of this tour, completely refute the brutal reflections which have been thrown out against him, as if he had made an ungrateful return; and his delicacy in sparing in his book those who we find from his letters to mrs. thrale were just objects of censure[ ], is much to be admired. his candour and amiable disposition is conspicuous from his conduct, when informed by mr. macleod, of rasay, that he had committed a mistake, which gave that gentleman some uneasiness. he wrote him a courteous and kind letter, and inserted in the news-papers an advertisement, correcting the mistake[ ]. the observations of my friend mr. dempster in a letter[ ] written to me, soon after he had read dr. johnson's book, are so just and liberal, that they cannot be too often repeated: 'there is nothing in the book, from beginning to end, that a scotchman need to take amiss. what he says of the country is true; and his observations on the people are what must naturally occur to a sensible, observing, and reflecting inhabitant of a convenient metropolis, where a man on thirty pounds a year may be better accommodated with all the little wants of life, than col or sir allan. 'i am charmed with his researches concerning the erse language, and the antiquity of their manuscripts. i am quite convinced; and i shall rank ossian and his fingals and oscars amongst the nursery tales, not the true history of our country, in all time to come. 'upon the whole, the book cannot displease, for it has no pretensions. the authour neither says he is a geographer, nor an antiquarian, nor very learned in the history of scotland, nor a naturalist, nor a fossilist[ ]. the manners of the people, and the face of the country, are all he attempts to describe, or seems to have thought of. much were it to be wished, that they who have travelled into more remote, and of course more curious regions, had all possessed his good sense. of the state of learning, his observations on glasgow university show he has formed a very sound judgement. he understands our climate too; and he has accurately observed the changes, however slow and imperceptible to us, which scotland has undergone, in consequence of the blessings of liberty and internal peace.' * * * * * mr. knox, another native of scotland, who has since made the same tour, and published an account of it, is equally liberal. 'i have read (says he,) his book again and again, travelled with him from berwick to glenelg, through countries with which i am well acquainted; sailed with him from glenelg to rasay, sky, rum, col, mull, and icolmkill, but have not been able to correct him in any matter of consequence. i have often admired the accuracy, the precision, and the justness of what he advances, respecting both the country and the people. 'the doctor has every where delivered his sentiments with freedom, and in many instances with a seeming regard for the benefit of the inhabitants and the ornament of the country. his remarks on the want of trees and hedges for shade, as well as for shelter to the cattle, are well founded, and merit the thanks, not the illiberal censure of the natives. he also felt for the distresses of the highlanders, and explodes with great propriety the bad management of the grounds, and the neglect of timber in the hebrides.' having quoted johnson's just compliments on the rasay family[ ], he says, 'on the other hand, i found this family equally lavish in their encomiums upon the doctor's conversation, and his subsequent civilities to a young gentleman of that country, who, upon waiting upon him at london, was well received, and experienced all the attention and regard that a warm friend could bestow. mr. macleod having also been in london, waited upon the doctor, who provided a magnificent and expensive entertainment in honour of his old hebridean acquaintance.' and talking of the military road by fort augustus, he says, 'by this road, though one of the most rugged in great britain, the celebrated dr. johnson passed from inverness to the hebride isles. his observations on the country and people are extremely correct, judicious, and instructive[ ].' mr. tytler, the acute and able vindicator of mary queen of scots, in one of his letters to mr. james elphinstone, published in that gentleman's _forty years' correspondence_, says, 'i read dr. johnson's tour with very great pleasure. some few errours he has fallen into, but of no great importance, and those are lost in the numberless beauties of his work. 'if i had leisure, i could perhaps point out the most exceptionable places; but at present i am in the country, and have not his book at hand. it is plain he meant to speak well of scotland; and he has in my apprehension done us great honour in the most capital article, the character of the inhabitants.' his private letters to mrs. thrale, written during the course of his journey, which therefore may be supposed to convey his genuine feelings at the time, abound in such benignant sentiments towards the people who showed him civilities[ ], that no man whose temper is not very harsh and sour, can retain a doubt of the goodness of his heart. it is painful to recollect with what rancour he was assailed by numbers of shallow irritable north britons, on account of his supposed injurious treatment of their country and countrymen, in his _journey_. had there been any just ground for such a charge, would the virtuous and candid dempster[ ] have given his opinion of the book, in the terms which i have quoted? would the patriotick knox[ ] have spoken of it as he has done? would mr. tytler, surely '--a scot, if ever scot there were,' have expressed himself thus? and let me add, that, citizen of the world as i hold myself to be, i have that degree of predilection for my _natale solum_, nay, i have that just sense of the merit of an ancient nation, which has been ever renowned for its valour, which in former times maintained its independence against a powerful neighbour, and in modern times has been equally distinguished for its ingenuity and industry in civilized life, that i should have felt a generous indignation at any injustice done to it. johnson treated scotland no worse than he did even his best friends, whose characters he used to give as they appeared to him, both in light and shade. some people, who had not exercised their minds sufficiently, condemned him for censuring his friends. but sir joshua reynolds, whose philosophical penetration and justness of thinking were not less known to those who lived with him, than his genius in his art is admired by the world, explained his conduct thus: 'he was fond of discrimination, which he could not show without pointing out the bad as well as the good in every character; and as his friends were those whose characters he knew best, they afforded him the best opportunity for showing the acuteness of his judgement.' he expressed to his friend mr. windham of norfolk, his wonder at the extreme jealousy of the scotch, and their resentment at having their country described by him as it really was; when, to say that it was a country as good as england, would have been a gross falsehood. 'none of us, (said he), would be offended if a foreigner who has travelled here should say, that vines and olives don't grow in england.' and as to his prejudice against the scotch, which i always ascribed to that nationality which he observed in _them_, he said to the same gentleman, 'when i find a scotchman, to whom an englishman is as a scotchman, that scotchman shall be as an englishman to me[ ].' his intimacy with many gentlemen of scotland, and his employing so many natives of that country as his amanuenses[ ], prove that his prejudice was not virulent; and i have deposited in the british museum, amongst other pieces of his writing, the following note in answer to one from me, asking if he would meet me at dinner at the mitre, though a friend of mine, a scotchman, was to be there:-- 'mr. johnson does not see why mr. boswell should suppose a scotchman less acceptable than any other man. he will be at the mitre.' my much-valued friend dr. barnard, now bishop of killaloe, having once expressed to him an apprehension, that if he should visit ireland he might treat the people of that country more unfavourably than he had done the scotch; he answered, with strong pointed double-edged wit, 'sir, you have no reason to be afraid of me. the irish are not in a conspiracy to cheat the world by false representations of the merits of their countrymen[ ]. no, sir; the irish are a fair people;--they never speak well of one another.' johnson told me of an instance of scottish nationality, which made a very unfavourable impression upon his mind. a scotchman, of some consideration in london, solicited him to recommend, by the weight of his learned authority, to be master of an english school, a person of whom he who recommended him confessed he knew no more but that he was his countryman. johnson was shocked at this unconscientious conduct[ ]. all the miserable cavillings against his _journey_, in news-papers[ ], magazines, and other fugitive publications, i can speak from certain knowledge, only furnished him with sport. at last there came out a scurrilous volume, larger than johnson's own, filled with malignant abuse, under a name, real or fictitious, of some low man in an obscure corner of scotland, though supposed to be the work of another scotchman, who has found means to make himself well known both in scotland and england. the effect which it had upon johnson was, to produce this pleasant observation to mr. seward, to whom he lent the book: 'this fellow must be a blockhead. they don't know how to go about their abuse. who will read a five shilling book against me? no, sir, if they had wit, they should have kept pelting me with pamphlets[ ].' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . 'you would have been very well pleased if you had dined with me to-day. i had for my guests, macquharrie, young maclean of col, the successor of our friend, a very amiable man, though not marked with such active qualities as his brother; mr. maclean of torloisk in mull, a gentleman of sir allan's family; and two of the clan grant; so that the highland and hebridean genius reigned. we had a great deal of conversation about you, and drank your health in a bumper. the toast was not proposed by me, which is a circumstance to be remarked, for i am now so connected with you, that any thing that i can say or do to your honour has not the value of an additional compliment. it is only giving you a guinea out of that treasure of admiration which already belongs to you, and which is no hidden treasure; for i suppose my admiration of you is co-existent with the knowledge of my character. 'i find that the highlanders and hebrideans in general are much fonder of your _journey_ than the low-country or _hither_ scots. one of the grants said to-day, that he was sure you were a man of a good heart, and a candid man, and seemed to hope he should be able to convince you of the antiquity of a good proportion of the poems of ossian. after all that has passed, i think the matter is capable of being proved to a certain degree. i am told that macpherson got one old erse ms. from clanranald, for the restitution of which he executed a formal obligation; and it is affirmed, that the gaelick (call it erse or call it irish,) has been written in the highlands and hebrides for many centuries. it is reasonable to suppose, that such of the inhabitants as acquired any learning, possessed the art of writing as well as their irish neighbours, and celtick cousins; and the question is, can sufficient evidence be shewn of this? 'those who are skilled in ancient writings can determine the age of mss. or at least can ascertain the century in which they were written; and if men of veracity, who are so skilled, shall tell us that mss. in the possession of families in the highlands and isles are the works of a remote age, i think we should be convinced by their testimony. 'there is now come to this city, ranald macdonald from the isle of egg, who has several mss. of erse poetry, which he wishes to publish by subscription. i have engaged to take three copies of the book, the price of which is to be six shillings, as i would subscribe for all the erse that can be printed be it old or new, that the language may be preserved. this man says, that some of his manuscripts are ancient; and, to be sure, one of them which was shewn to me does appear to have the duskyness of antiquity. * * * * * 'the enquiry is not yet quite hopeless, and i should think that the exact truth may be discovered, if proper means be used. i am, &c. 'james boswell.' to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am sorry that i could get no books for my friends in scotland. mr. strahan has at last promised to send two dozen to you. if they come, put the names of my friends into them; you may cut them out[ ], and paste them with a little starch in the book. 'you then are going wild about ossian. why do you think any part can be proved? the dusky manuscript of egg is probably not fifty years old; if it be an hundred, it proves nothing. the tale of clanranald is no proof. has clanranald told it? can he prove it? there are, i believe, no erse manuscripts. none of the old families had a single letter in erse that we heard of. you say it is likely that they could write. the learned, if any learned there were, could; but knowing by that learning, some written language, in that language they wrote, as letters had never been applied to their own. if there are manuscripts, let them be shewn, with some proof that they are not forged for the occasion. you say many can remember parts of ossian. i believe all those parts are versions of the english; at least there is no proof of their antiquity. 'macpherson is said to have made some translations himself; and having taught a boy to write it, ordered him to say that he had learnt it of his grandmother. the boy, when he grew up, told the story. this mrs. williams heard at mr. strahan's table. don't be credulous; you know how little a highlander can be trusted.[ ] macpherson is, so far as i know, very quiet. is not that proof enough? every thing is against him. no visible manuscript; no inscription in the language: no correspondence among friends: no transaction of business, of which a single scrap remains in the ancient families. macpherson's pretence is, that the character was saxon. if he had not talked unskilfully of _manuscripts_, he might have fought with oral tradition much longer. as to mr. grant's information, i suppose he knows much less of the matter than ourselves. 'in the mean time, the bookseller says that the sale[ ] is sufficiently quick. they printed four thousand. correct your copy wherever it is wrong, and bring it up. your friends will all be glad to see you. i think of going myself into the country about may. 'i am sorry that i have not managed to send the book sooner. i have left four for you, and do not restrict you absolutely to follow my directions in the distribution. you must use your own discretion. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell: i suppose she is now just beginning to forgive me. 'i am, dear sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' on tuesday, march , i arrived in london[ ]; and on repairing to dr. johnson's before dinner, found him in his study, sitting with mr. peter garrick, the elder brother of david, strongly resembling him in countenance and voice, but of more sedate and placid manners[ ]. johnson informed me, that 'though mr. beauclerk was in great pain, it was hoped he was not in danger[ ], and that he now wished to consult dr. heberden to try the effect of a _new understanding_.' both at this interview, and in the evening at mr. thrale's, where he and mr. peter garrick and i met again, he was vehement on the subject of the ossian controversy; observing, 'we do not know that there are any ancient erse manuscripts; and we have no other reason to disbelieve that there are men with three heads, but that we do not know that there are any such men.' he also was outrageous, upon his supposition that my countrymen 'loved scotland better than truth[ ],' saying, 'all of them,--nay not all,--but _droves_ of them, would come up, and attest any thing for the honour of scotland.' he also persevered in his wild allegation, that he questioned if there was a tree between edinburgh and the english border older than himself[ ]. i assured him he was mistaken, and suggested that the proper punishment would be that he should receive a stripe at every tree above a hundred years old, that was found within that space. he laughed, and said, 'i believe i might submit to it for a _banbee_!' the doubts which, in my correspondence with him, i had ventured to state as to the justice and wisdom of the conduct of great-britain towards the american colonies, while i at the same time requested that he would enable me to inform myself upon that momentous subject, he had altogether disregarded; and had recently published a pamphlet, entitled, _taxation no tyranny; an answer to the resolutions and address of the american congress_.[ ] he had long before indulged most unfavourable sentiments of our fellow-subjects in america.[ ] for, as early as , i was told by dr. john campbell, that he had said of them, 'sir, they are a race of convicts,[ ] and ought to be thankful for any thing we allow them short of hanging.' of this performance i avoided to talk with him; for i had now formed a clear and settled opinion,[ ] that the people of america were well warranted to resist a claim that their fellow-subjects in the mother-country should have the entire command of their fortunes, by taxing them without their own consent; and the extreme violence which it breathed, appeared to me so unsuitable to the mildness of a christian philosopher, and so directly opposite to the principles of peace which he had so beautifully recommended in his pamphlet respecting falkland's islands,[ ] that i was sorry to see him appear in so unfavourable a light. besides, i could not perceive in it that ability of argument, or that felicity of expression, for which he was, upon other occasions, so eminent. positive assertion, sarcastical severity, and extravagant ridicule, which he himself reprobated as a test of truth, were united in this rhapsody. that this pamphlet was written at the desire of those who were then in power, i have no doubt; and, indeed, he owned to me, that it had been revised and curtailed by some of them. he told me, that they had struck out one passage, which was to this effect:-- 'that the colonists could with no solidity argue from their not having been taxed while in their infancy, that they should not now he taxed. we do not put a calf into the plow; we wait till he is an ox.' he said, 'they struck it out either critically as too ludicrous, or politically as too exasperating. i care not which. it was their business. if an architect says, i will build five stories, and the man who employs him says, i will have only three, the employer is to decide.' 'yes, sir, (said i,) in ordinary cases. but should it be so when the architect gives his skill and labour _gratis_?' unfavourable as i am constrained to say my opinion of this pamphlet was, yet, since it was congenial with the sentiments of numbers at that time, and as everything relating to the writings of dr. johnson is of importance in literary history, i shall therefore insert some passages which were struck out, it does not appear why, either by himself or those who revised it. they appear printed in a few proof leaves of it in my possession, marked with corrections in his own hand-writing. i shall distinguish them by _italicks_. in the paragraph where he says the americans were incited to resistance by european intelligence from 'men whom they thought their friends, but who were friends only to themselves[ ],' there followed,-- '_and made by their selfishness, the enemies of their country_' and the next paragraph ran thus:-- 'on the original contrivers of mischief, _rather than on those whom they have deluded_, let an insulted nation pour out its vengeance.' the paragraph which came next was in these words:-- '_unhappy is that country in which men can hope for advancement by favouring its enemies. the tranquillity of stable government is not always easily preserved against the machinations of single innovators; but what can be the hope of quiet, when factions hostile to the legislature can be openly formed and openly avowed?_' after the paragraph which now concludes the pamphlet, there followed this, in which he certainly means the great earl of chatham[ ], and glances at a certain popular lord chancellor[ ].' '_if, by the fortune of war, they drive us utterly away, what they will do next can only be conjectured. if a new monarchy is erected, they will want a king. he who first takes into his hand the sceptre of america, should have a name of good omen. william has been known both as conqueror and deliverer; and perhaps england, however contemned, might yet supply them with another william. whigs, indeed, are not willing to be governed; and it is possible that king william may be strongly inclined to guide their measures: but whigs have been cheated like other mortals, and suffered their leader to become their tyrant, under the name of their protector. what more they will receive from england, no man can tell. in their rudiments of empire they may want a chancellor_.' then came this paragraph:-- '_their numbers are, at present, not quite sufficient for the greatness which, in some form of government or other, is to rival the ancient monarchies; but by dr. franklin's rule of progression[ ], they will, in a century and a quarter, be more than equal to the inhabitants of europe. when the whigs of america are thus multiplied, let the princes of the earth tremble in their palaces. if they should continue to double and to double, their own hemisphere would not contain them. but let not our boldest oppugners of authority look forward with delight to this futurity of whiggism_.' how it ended i know not, as it is cut off abruptly at the foot of the last of these proof pages[ ]. his pamphlets in support of the measures of administration were published on his own account, and he afterwards collected them into a volume, with the title of _political tracts, by the authour of the rambler_, with this motto:-- 'fallitur egregio quisquis sub principe credit servitium; nunquam libertas gratior extat quam sub rege pio.' claudianus[ ]. these pamphlets drew upon him numerous attacks[ ]. against the common weapons of literary warfare he was hardened; but there were two instances of animadversion which i communicated to him, and from what i could judge, both from his silence and his looks, appeared to me to impress him much. one was, _a letter to dr. samuel johnson, occasioned by his late political publications_. it appeared previous to his _taxation no tyranny_, and was written by dr. joseph towers[ ]. in that performance, dr. johnson was treated with the respect due to so eminent a man, while his conduct as a political writer was boldly and pointedly arraigned, as inconsistent with the character of one, who, if he did employ his pen upon politics, 'it might reasonably be expected should distinguish himself, not by party violence and rancour, but by moderation and by wisdom.' it concluded thus:-- 'i would, however, wish you to remember, should you again address the publick under the character of a political writer, that luxuriance of imagination or energy of language will ill compensate for the want of candour, of justice, and of truth. and i shall only add, that should i hereafter be disposed to read, as i heretofore have done, the most excellent of all your performances, _the rambler_, the pleasure which i have been accustomed to find in it will be much diminished by the reflection that the writer of so moral, so elegant, and so valuable a work, was capable of prostituting his talents in such productions as _the false alarm_, the _thoughts on the transactions respecting falkland's islands_, and _the patriot_' i am willing to do justice to the merit of dr. towers, of whom i will say, that although i abhor his whiggish democratical notions and propensities, (for i will not call them principles,) i esteem him as an ingenious, knowing, and very convivial man. the other instance was a paragraph of a letter to me, from my old and most intimate friend, the reverend mr. temple, who wrote the character of gray, which has had the honour to be adopted both by mr. mason and dr. johnson in their accounts of that poet[ ]. the words were,-- 'how can your great, i will not say your _pious_, but your _moral_ friend, support the barbarous measures of administration, which they have not the face to ask even their infidel pensioner hume to defend[ ].' however confident of the rectitude of his own mind, johnson may have felt sincere uneasiness that his conduct should be erroneously imputed to unworthy motives, by good men; and that the influence of his valuable writings should on that account be in any degree obstructed or lessened[ ]. he complained to a right honourable friend[ ] of distinguished talents and very elegant manners, with whom he maintained a long intimacy, and whose generosity towards him will afterwards appear[ ], that his pension having been given to him as a literary character, he had been applied to by administration to write political pamphlets; and he was even so much irritated, that he declared his resolution to resign his pension. his friend shewed him the impropriety of such a measure, and he afterwards expressed his gratitude, and said he had received good advice. to that friend he once signified a wish to have his pension secured to him for his life; but he neither asked nor received from government any reward whatsoever for his political labours[ ]. on friday, march , i met him at the literary club, where were mr. beauclerk, mr. langton, mr. colman, dr. percy, mr. vesey, sir charles bunbury, dr. george fordyce, mr. steevens, and mr. charles fox. before he came in, we talked of his _journey to the western islands_, and of his coming away 'willing to believe the second sight[ ],' which seemed to excite some ridicule. i was then so impressed with the truth of many of the stories of it which i had been told, that i avowed my conviction, saying, 'he is only _willing_ to believe: i _do_ believe. the evidence is enough for me, though not for his great mind. what will not fill a quart bottle will fill a pint bottle. i am filled with belief[ ].' 'are you? (said colman,) then cork it up.' i found his _journey_ the common topick of conversation in london at this time, wherever i happened to be. at one of lord mansfield's formal sunday evening conversations, strangely called _levées_, his lordship addressed me, 'we have all been reading your travels, mr. boswell.' i answered, 'i was but the humble attendant of dr. johnson.' the chief justice replied, with that air and manner which none, who ever saw and heard him, can forget, 'he speaks ill of nobody but ossian.' johnson was in high spirits this evening at the club, and talked with great animation and success. he attacked swift, as he used to do upon all occasions. the _tale of a tub_ is so much superiour to his other writings, that one can hardly believe he was the authour of it[ ]: 'there is in it such a vigour of mind, such a swarm of thoughts, so much of nature, and art, and life[ ].' i wondered to hear him say of _gulliver's travels_, 'when once you have thought of big men and little men, it is very easy to do all the rest.' i endeavoured to make a stand for swift, and tried to rouse those who were much more able to defend him; but in vain. johnson at last, of his own accord, allowed very great merit to the inventory of articles found in the pocket of the man mountain, particularly the description of his watch, which it was conjectured was his god, as he consulted it upon all occasions. he observed, that 'swift put his name to but two things, (after he had a name to put,) _the plan for the improvement of the english language_, and the last _drapier's letter_[ ].' from swift, there was an easy transition to mr. thomas sheridan.--johnson. 'sheridan is a wonderful admirer of the tragedy of _douglas_, and presented its authour with a gold medal. some years ago, at a coffee-house in oxford, i called to him, "mr. sheridan, mr. sheridan, how came you to give a gold medal to home, for writing that foolish play[ ]?" this, you see, was wanton and insolent; but i _meant_ to be wanton and insolent. a medal has no value but as a stamp of merit. and was sheridan to assume to himself the right of giving that stamp? if sheridan was magnificent enough to bestow a gold medal as an honorary reward of dramatick excellence, he should have requested one of the universities to choose the person on whom it should be conferred. sheridan had no right to give a stamp of merit: it was counterfeiting apollo's coin[ ].' on monday, march , i breakfasted with him at mr. strahan's. he told us, that he was engaged to go that evening to mrs. abington's benefit. 'she was visiting some ladies whom i was visiting, and begged that i would come to her benefit. i told her i could not hear: but she insisted so much on my coming, that it would have been brutal to have refused her.' this was a speech quite characteristical. he loved to bring forward his having been in the gay circles of life; and he was, perhaps, a little vain of the solicitations of this elegant and fashionable actress. he told us, the play was to be _the hypocrite_, altered from cibber's _nonjuror_[ ], so as to satirize the methodists. 'i do not think (said he,) the character of _the hypocrite_ justly applicable to the methodists, but it was very applicable to the nonjurors[ ]. i once said to dr. madan[ ], a clergyman of ireland, who was a great whig, that perhaps a nonjuror would have been less criminal in taking the oaths imposed by the ruling power, than refusing them; because refusing them, necessarily laid him under almost an irresistible temptation to be more criminal; for, a man _must_ live, and if he precludes himself from the support furnished by the establishment, will probably be reduced to very wicked shifts to maintain himself[ ].' boswell. 'i should think, sir, that a man who took the oaths contrary to his principles, was a determined wicked man, because he was sure he was committing perjury; whereas a nonjuror might be insensibly led to do what was wrong, without being so directly conscious of it.' johnson. 'why, sir, a man who goes to bed to his patron's wife is pretty sure that he is committing wickedness.' boswell. 'did the nonjuring clergymen do so, sir?' johnson. 'i am afraid many of them did.' i was startled at his argument, and could by no means think it convincing. had not his own father complied with the requisition of government[ ], (as to which he once observed to me, when i pressed him upon it, '_that_, sir, he was to settle with himself,') he would probably have thought more unfavourably of a jacobite who took the oaths: '--had he not resembled my father as he _swore_--[ ].' mr. strahan talked of launching into the great ocean of london, in order to have a chance for rising into eminence; and, observing that many men were kept back from trying their fortunes there, because they were born to a competency, said, 'small certainties are the bane of men of talents[ ];' which johnson confirmed. mr. strahan put johnson in mind of a remark which he had made to him; 'there are few ways in which a man can be more innocently employed than in getting money.' 'the more one thinks of this, (said strahan,) the juster it will appear.' mr. strahan had taken a poor boy from the country as an apprentice, upon johnson's recommendation. johnson having enquired after him, said, 'mr. strahan, let me have five guineas on account, and i'll give this boy one. nay, if a man recommends a boy, and does nothing for him, it is sad work. call him down.' i followed him into the court-yard[ ], behind mr. strahan's house; and there i had a proof of what i had heard him profess, that he talked alike to all. 'some people tell you that they let themselves down to the capacity of their hearers. i never do that. i speak uniformly, in as intelligible a manner as i can[ ].' 'well, my boy, how do you go on?' 'pretty well, sir; but they are afraid i an't strong enough for some parts of the business.' johnson. 'why i shall be sorry for it; for when you consider with how little mental power and corporeal labour a printer can get a guinea a week, it is a very desirable occupation for you. do you hear,--take all the pains you can; and if this does not do, we must think of some other way of life for you. there's a guinea.' here was one of the many, many instances of his active benevolence. at the same time, the slow and sonorous solemnity with which, while he bent himself down, he addressed a little thick short-legged boy, contrasted with the boy's aukwardness and awe, could not but excite some ludicrous emotions[ ]. i met him at drury-lane play-house in the evening. sir joshua reynolds, at mrs. abington's request, had promised to bring a body of wits to her benefit; and having secured forty places in the front boxes, had done me the honour to put me in the group. johnson sat on the seat directly behind me[ ]; and as he could neither see nor hear at such a distance from the stage, he was wrapped up in grave abstraction, and seemed quite a cloud, amidst all the sunshine of glitter and gaiety[ ]. i wondered at his patience in sitting out a play of five acts, and a farce of two. he said very little; but after the prologue to bon ton[ ] had been spoken, which he could hear pretty well from the more slow and distinct utterance, he talked of prologue-writing, and observed, 'dryden has written prologues superiour to any that david garrick has written; but david garrick has written more good prologues than dryden has done. it is wonderful that he has been able to write such variety of them[ ].' at mr. beauclerk's, where i supped, was mr. garrick, whom i made happy with johnson's praise of his prologues; and i suppose, in gratitude to him, he took up one of his favourite topicks, the nationality of the scotch, which he maintained in a pleasant manner, with the aid of a little poetical fiction. 'come, come, don't deny it: they are really national. why, now, the adams[ ] are as liberal-minded men as any in the world: but, i don't know how it is, all their workmen are scotch. you are, to be sure, wonderfully free from that nationality: but so it happens, that you employ the only scotch shoe-black in london.' he imitated the manner of his old master with ludicrous exaggeration; repeating, with pauses and half-whistlings interjected, '_os homini sublime dedit,--calumque tueri jussit,--et erectos ad sidera--tollere vultus_[ ]'; looking downwards all the time, and, while pronouncing the four last words, absolutely touching the ground with a kind of contorted gesticulation. garrick, however, when he pleased, could imitate johnson very exactly[ ]; for that great actor, with his distinguished powers of expression which were so universally admired, possessed also an admirable talent of mimickry. he was always jealous that johnson spoke lightly of him[ ]. i recollect his exhibiting him to me one day, as if saying, 'davy has some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile fellow[ ];' which he uttered perfectly with the tone and air of johnson. i cannot too frequently request of my readers, while they peruse my account of johnson's conversation, to endeavour to keep in mind his deliberate and strong utterance. his mode of speaking was indeed very impressive[ ]; and i wish it could be preserved as musick is written, according to the very ingenious method of mr. steele[ ], who has shown how the recitation of mr. garrick, and other eminent speakers, might be transmitted to posterity in score[ ]. next day i dined with johnson at mr. thrale's. he attacked gray, calling him 'a dull fellow.' boswell. 'i understand he was reserved, and might appear dull in company; but surely he was not dull in poetry.' johnson. 'sir, he was dull in company, dull in his closet, dull every where.[ ] he was dull in a new way, and that made many people think him great. he was a mechanical poet.' he then repeated some ludicrous lines, which have escaped my memory, and said, 'is not that great, like his odes?' mrs. thrale maintained that his odes were melodious; upon which he exclaimed, 'weave the warp, and weave the woof;'--i added, in a solemn tone, 'the winding-sheet of edward's race.' '_there_ is a good line.' 'ay, (said he), and the next line is a good one,' (pronouncing it contemptuously;) 'give ample verge and room enough.'--[ ] 'no, sir, there are but two good[ ] stanzas in gray's poetry, which are in his _elegy in a country church-yard_.' he then repeated the stanza, 'for who to dumb forgetfulness a prey,' &c. mistaking one word; for instead of _precincts_ he said _confines_. he added, 'the other stanza i forget[ ].' a young lady[ ] who had married a man much her inferiour in rank being mentioned, a question arose how a woman's relations should behave to her in such a situation; and, while i recapitulate the debate, and recollect what has since happened[ ], i cannot but be struck in a manner that delicacy forbids me to express. while i contended that she ought to be treated with an inflexible steadiness of displeasure, mrs. thrale was all for mildness and forgiveness, and, according to the vulgar phrase, 'making the best of a bad bargain.' johnson. 'madam, we must distinguish. were i a man of rank, i would not let a daughter starve who had made a mean marriage; but having voluntarily degraded herself from the station which she was originally entitled to hold, i would support her only in that which she herself had chosen; and would not put her on a level with my other daughters. you are to consider, madam, that it is our duty to maintain the subordination of civilized society; and when there is a gross and shameful deviation from rank, it should be punished so as to deter others from the same perversion.' after frequently considering this subject, i am more and more confirmed in what i then meant to express, and which was sanctioned by the authority, and illustrated by the wisdom, of johnson; and i think it of the utmost consequence to the happiness of society, to which subordination is absolutely necessary[ ]. it is weak, and contemptible, and unworthy, in a parent to relax in such a case. it is sacrificing general advantage to private feelings. and let it be considered, that the claim of a daughter who has acted thus, to be restored to her former situation, is either fantastical or unjust. if there be no value in the distinction of rank, what does she suffer by being kept in the situation to which she has descended? if there be a value in that distinction, it ought to be steadily maintained. if indulgence be shewn to such conduct, and the offenders know that in a longer or shorter time they shall be received as well as if they had not contaminated their blood by a base alliance, the great check upon that inordinate caprice which generally occasions low marriages will be removed, and the fair and comfortable order of improved life will be miserably disturbed[ ]. lord chesterfield's letters being mentioned, johnson said, 'it was not to be wondered at that they had so great a sale, considering that they were the letters of a statesman, a wit, one who had been so much in the mouths of mankind, one long accustomed _virûm volitare per ora_[ ].' on friday, march , i supped with him and some friends at a tavern[ ]. one of the company[ ] attempted, with too much forwardness, to rally him on his late appearance at the theatre; but had reason to repent of his temerity. 'why, sir, did you go to mrs. abington's benefit? did you see?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'did you hear?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'why then, sir, did you go?' johnson. 'because, sir, she is a favourite of the publick; and when the publick cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, i will go to your benefit too[ ].' next morning i won a small bet from lady diana beauclerk, by asking him as to one of his particularities, which her ladyship laid i durst not do. it seems he had been frequently observed at the club to put into his pocket the seville oranges, after he had squeezed the juice of them into the drink which he made for himself. beauclerk and garrick talked of it to me, and seemed to think that he had a strange unwillingness to be discovered. we could not divine what he did with them; and this was the bold question to be put. i saw on his table the spoils of the preceding night, some fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into pieces. 'o, sir, (said i,) i now partly see what you do with the squeezed oranges which you put into your pocket at the club.' johnson. 'i have a great love for them.' boswell. 'and pray, sir, what do you do with them? you scrape them, it seems, very neatly, and what next?' johnson. 'let them dry, sir.' boswell. 'and what next?' johnson. 'nay, sir, you shall know their fate no further.' boswell. 'then the world must be left in the dark. it must be said (assuming a mock solemnity,) he scraped them, and let them dry, but what he did with them next, he never could be prevailed upon to tell.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you should say it more emphatically:--he could not be prevailed upon, even by his dearest friends, to tell[ ].' he had this morning received his diploma as doctor of laws from the university of oxford. he did not vaunt of his new dignity, but i understood he was highly pleased with it. i shall here insert the progress and completion of that high academical honour, in the same manner as i have traced his obtaining that of master of arts. to the reverend dr. fothergill, vice-chancellor of the university of oxford, to be communicated to the heads of houses, and proposed in convocation. 'mr. vice-chancellor and gentlemen[ ], 'the honour of the degree of m.a. by diploma, formerly conferred upon mr. samuel johnson, in consequence of his having eminently distinguished himself by the publication of a series of essays, excellently calculated to form the manners of the people, and in which the cause of religion and morality has been maintained and recommended by the strongest powers of argument and elegance of language, reflected an equal degree of lustre upon the university itself. 'the many learned labours which have since that time employed the attention and displayed the abilities of that great man, so much to the advancement of literature and the benefit of the community, render him worthy of more distinguished honours in the republick of letters: and i persuade myself, that i shall act agreeably to the sentiments of the whole university, in desiring that it may be proposed in convocation to confer on him the degree of doctor in civil law by diploma, to which i readily give my consent; and am, 'mr. vice-chancellor and gentlemen, 'your affectionate friend and servant, 'north[ ].' 'downing-street, march , .' diploma. 'cancellarius, magistri, et scholares universitatis oxoniensis omnibus ad quos presentes literae pervenerint, salutem in domino sempiternam. 'sciatis, virum illustrem, samuelem johnson, in omni humaniorum literarum genere eruditum, omniumque scientiarum comprehensione felicissimum, scriptis suis, ad popularium mores formandos summá verborum elegantiá ac sententiarum gravitate compositis, ita olim inclaruisse, ut dignus videretur cui ab academiá suá eximia quaedam laudis praemia deferentur [deferrentur] quique [in] venerabilem magistrorum ordinem summá cum dignitate cooptaretur: 'cum verò eundem clarissimum virum tot posteà tantique labores, in patriá praesertim linguá ornandá et stabiliendá feliciter impensi, ita insigniverint, ut in literarum republicá princeps jam et primarius jure habeatur; nos cancellarius, magistri, et scholares universitatis oxoniensis, quo talis viri merita pari honoris remuneratione exaequentur, et perpetuum suae simul laudis, nostraeque ergà literas propensissimae voluntatis extet monumentum, in solenni convocatione doctorum et magistrorum regentium, et non regentium, praedictum samuelem johnson doctorem in jure civili renunciavimus et constituimus, eumque virtute praesentis diplomatis singulis juribus, privilegiis et honoribus, ad istum gradum quàquà pertinentibus, frui et gaudere jussimus. in cujus rei testimonium commune universitatis oxoniensis sigillum praesentibus apponi fecimus. 'datum in domo nostrae convocationis die tricesimo mensis martii, anno domini millesimo septingentesimo, septuagesimo quinto[ ].' '_viro reverendo_ thomae fothergill, s.t.p. _universitatis oxoniensis vice-cancellario_. 's. p. d. 'sam johnson. 'multis non est opus, ut testimonium quo, te praeside, oxonienses nomen meum posteris commendârunt, quali animo acceperim compertum faciam. nemo sibi placens non laetatur[ ]; nemo sibi non placet, qui vobis, literarum arbitris, placere potuit. hoc tamen habet incommodi tantum beneficium, quod mihi nunquam posthâc sine vestrae famae detrimento vel labi liceat vel cessare; semperque sit timendum, ne quod mihi tam eximiae laudi est, vobis aliquando fiat opprobrio. vale[ ].' ' id. apr., .' he revised some sheets of lord hailes's _annals of scotland_, and wrote a few notes on the margin with red ink, which he bade me tell his lordship did not sink into the paper, and might be wiped off with a wet sponge, so that he did not spoil his manuscript. i observed to him that there were very few of his friends so accurate as that i could venture to put down in writing what they told me as his sayings. johnson. 'why should you write down my sayings?' boswell. 'i write them when they are good.' johnson. 'nay, you may as well write down the sayings of any one else that are good.' but _where_, i might with great propriety have added, can i find such? i visited him by appointment in the evening, and we drank tea with mrs. williams. he told me that he had been in the company of a gentleman[ ] whose extraordinary travels had been much the subject of conversation. but i found that he had not listened to him with that full confidence, without which there is little satisfaction in the society of travellers. i was curious to hear what opinion so able a judge as johnson had formed of his abilities, and i asked if he was not a man of sense. johnson. 'why, sir, he is not a distinct relater; and i should say, he is neither abounding nor deficient in sense. i did not perceive any superiority of understanding.' boswell. 'but will you not allow him a nobleness of resolution, in penetrating into distant regions?' johnson. 'that, sir, is not to the present purpose. we are talking of his sense. a fighting cock has a nobleness of resolution.' next day, sunday, april , i dined with him at mr. hoole's. we talked of pope. johnson. 'he wrote his _dunciad_ for fame. that was his primary motive. had it not been for that, the dunces might have railed against him till they were weary, without his troubling himself about them. he delighted to vex them, no doubt; but he had more delight in seeing how well he could vex them.'[ ] the _odes to obscurity and oblivion_, in ridicule of 'cool mason and warm gray,'[ ] being mentioned, johnson said, 'they are colman's best things.' upon its being observed that it was believed these odes were made by colman and lloyd jointly;--johnson. 'nay, sir, how can two people make an ode? perhaps one made one of them, and one the other.'[ ] i observed that two people had made a play, and quoted the anecdote of beaumont and fletcher, who were brought under suspicion of treason, because while concerting the plan of a tragedy when sitting together at a tavern, one of them was overheard saying to the other, 'i'll kill the king.' johnson. 'the first of these odes is the best: but they are both good. they exposed a very bad kind of writing.' boswell. 'surely, sir, mr. mason's _elfrida_ is a fine poem: at least you will allow there are some good passages in it.' johnson. 'there are now and then some good imitations of milton's bad manner.' i often wondered at his low estimation of the writings of gray and mason. of gray's poetry i have in a former part of this work[ ] expressed my high opinion; and for that of mr. mason i have ever entertained a warm admiration[ ]. his _elfrida_ is exquisite, both in poetical description and moral sentiment; and his _caractacus_ is a noble drama[ ]. nor can i omit paying my tribute of praise to some of his smaller poems, which i have read with pleasure, and which no criticism shall persuade me not to like. if i wondered at johnson's not tasting the works of mason and gray, still more have i wondered at their not tasting his works; that they should be insensible to his energy of diction, to his splendour of images, and comprehension of thought. tastes may differ as to the violin, the flute, the hautboy, in short all the lesser instruments: but who can be insensible to the powerful impressions of the majestick organ? his _taxation no tyranny_ being mentioned, he said, 'i think i have not been attacked enough for it. attack is the re-action; i never think i have hit hard, unless it rebounds[ ].' boswell. 'i don't know, sir, what you would be at. five or six shots of small arms in every newspaper, and repeated cannonading in pamphlets, might, i think, satisfy you[ ]. but, sir, you'll never make out this match, of which we have talked, with a certain, political lady, since you are so severe against her principles[ ].' johnson. 'nay, sir, i have the better chance for that. she is like the amazons of old; she must be courted by the sword. but i have not been severe upon her.' boswell. 'yes, sir, you have made her ridiculous.' johnson. 'that was already done, sir. to endeavour to make _her_ ridiculous, is like blacking the chimney.' i put him in mind that the landlord at ellon[ ] in scotland said, that he heard he was the greatest man in england,--next to lord mansfield. 'ay, sir, (said he,) the exception defined the idea. a scotchman could go no farther: "the force of nature could no farther go[ ]."' lady miller's collection of verses by fashionable people, which were put into her vase at batheaston villa[ ], near bath, in competition for honorary prizes, being mentioned, he held them very cheap: '_bouts rimés_ (said he,) is a mere conceit, and an _old_ conceit now, i wonder how people were persuaded to write in that manner for this lady[ ].' i named a gentleman of his acquaintance who wrote for the vase. johnson. 'he was a blockhead for his pains.' boswell. 'the duchess of northumberland wrote[ ].' johnson. 'sir, the duchess of northumberland may do what she pleases: nobody will say anything to a lady of her high rank. but i should be apt to throw ----'s[ ] verses in his face.' i talked of the chearfulness of fleet-street, owing to the constant quick succession of people which we perceive passing through it. johnson. 'why, sir, fleet-street has a very animated appearance; but i think the full tide of human existence is at charing-cross[ ].' he made the common remark on the unhappiness which men who have led a busy life experience, when they retire in expectation of enjoying themselves at ease, and that they generally languish for want of their habitual occupation, and wish to return to it. he mentioned as strong an instance of this as can well be imagined. 'an eminent tallow-chandler in london, who had acquired a considerable fortune, gave up the trade in favour of his foreman, and went to live at a country-house near town. he soon grew weary, and paid frequent visits to his old shop, where he desired they might let him know their _melting-days_, and he would come and assist them; which he accordingly did. here, sir, was a man, to whom the most disgusting circumstance in the business to which he had been used was a relief from idleness[ ].' on wednesday, april , i dined with him at messieurs dilly's, with mr. john scott of amwell[ ], the quaker, mr. langton, mr. miller, (now sir john,) and dr. thomas campbell[ ], an irish clergyman, whom i took the liberty of inviting to mr. billy's table, having seen him at mr. thrale's, and been told that he had come to england chiefly with a view to see dr. johnson, for whom he entertained the highest veneration. he has since published _a philosophical survey of the south of ireland_, a very entertaining book, which has, however, one fault;--that it assumes the fictitious character of an englishman. we talked of publick speaking.--johnson. 'we must not estimate a man's powers by his being able or not able to deliver his sentiments in publick. isaac hawkins browne[ ], one of the first wits of this country, got into parliament, and never opened his mouth. for my own part, i think it is more disgraceful never to try to speak, than to try it and fail; as it is more disgraceful not to fight, than to fight and be beaten.' this argument appeared to me fallacious; for if a man has not spoken, it may be said that he would have done very well if he had tried; whereas, if he has tried and failed, there is nothing to be said for him. 'why then, (i asked,) is it thought disgraceful for a man not to fight, and not disgraceful not to speak in publick?' johnson. 'because there may be other reasons for a man's not speaking in publick than want of resolution: he may have nothing to say, (laughing.) whereas, sir, you know courage is reckoned the greatest of all virtues; because, unless a man has that virtue, he has no security for preserving any other.' he observed, that 'the statutes against bribery were intended to prevent upstarts with money from getting into parliament[ ];' adding, that 'if he were a gentleman of landed property, he would turn out all his tenants who did not vote for the candidate whom he supported[ ].' langton. 'would not that, sir, be checking the freedom of election?' johnson. 'sir, the law does not mean that the privilege of voting should be independent of old family interest; of the permanent property of the country.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at mr. thomas davies's, with mr. hicky[ ], the painter, and my old acquaintance mr. moody, the player. dr. johnson, as usual, spoke contemptuously of colley cibber. 'it is wonderful that a man, who for forty years had lived with the great and the witty, should have acquired so ill the talents of conversation: and he had but half to furnish; for one half of what he said was oaths[ ].' he, however, allowed considerable merit to some of his comedies, and said there was no reason to believe that the _careless husband_ was not written by himself[ ]. davies said, he was the first dramatick writer who introduced genteel ladies upon the stage. johnson refuted this observation by instancing several such characters in comedies before his time. davies (trying to defend himself from a charge of ignorance,) 'i mean genteel moral characters.' 'i think (said hicky,) gentility and morality are inseparable.' boswell. 'by no means, sir. the genteelest characters are often the most immoral. does not lord chesterfield give precepts for uniting wickedness and the graces? a man, indeed, is not genteel when he gets drunk; but most vices may be committed very genteelly: a man may debauch his friend's wife genteely: he may cheat at cards genteelly.' hicky. 'i do not think _that_ is genteel.' boswell. 'sir, it may not be like a gentleman, but it may be genteel.' johnson. 'you are meaning two different things. one means exteriour grace; the other honour. it is certain that a man may be very immoral with exteriour grace. lovelace, in _clarissa_, is a very genteel and a very wicked character. tom hervey[ ], who died t'other day, though a vicious man, was one of the genteelest men that ever lived.' tom davies instanced charles the second. johnson, (taking fire at any attack upon that prince, for whom he had an extraordinary partiality[ ],) 'charles the second was licentious in his practice; but he always had a reverence for what was good. charles the second knew his people, and rewarded merit[ ]. the church was at no time better filled than in his reign. he was the best king we have had from his time till the reign of his present majesty, except james the second, who was a very good king, but unhappily believed that it was necessary for the salvation of his subjects that they should be roman catholicks. _he_ had the merit of endeavouring to do what he thought was for the salvation of the souls of his subjects, till he lost a great empire. _we_, who thought that we should _not_ be saved if we were roman catholicks, had the merit of maintaining our religion, at the experience of submitting ourselves to the government of king william[ ], (for it could not be done otherwise,)--to the government of one of the most worthless scoundrels that ever existed. no; charles the second was not such a man as ----, (naming another king). he did not destroy his father's will[ ]. he took money, indeed, from france: but he did not betray those over whom he ruled[ ]: he did not let the french fleet pass ours. george the first knew nothing, and desired to know nothing; did nothing, and desired to do nothing: and the only good thing that is told of him is, that he wished to restore the crown to its hereditary successor[ ].' he roared with prodigious violence against george the second. when he ceased, moody interjected, in an irish tone, and with a comick look, 'ah! poor george the second.' i mentioned that dr. thomas campbell had come from ireland to london, principally to see dr. johnson. he seemed angry at this observation. davies. 'why, you know, sir, there came a man from spain to see livy[ ]; and corelli came to england to see purcell[ ], and when he heard he was dead, went directly back again to italy.' johnson. 'i should not have wished to be dead to disappoint campbell, had he been so foolish as you represent him; but i should have wished to have been a hundred miles off.' this was apparently perverse; and i do believe it was not his real way of thinking: he could not but like a man who came so far to see him. he laughed with some complacency, when i told him campbell's odd expression to me concerning him: 'that having seen such a man, was a thing to talk of a century hence,'--as if he could live so long[ ]. we got into an argument whether the judges who went to india might with propriety engage in trade. johnson warmly maintained that they might. 'for why (he urged) should not judges get riches, as well as those who deserve them less?' i said, they should have sufficient salaries, and have nothing to take off their attention from the affairs of the publick. johnson. 'no judge, sir, can give his whole attention to his office; and it is very proper that he should employ what time he has to himself, to his own advantage, in the most profitable manner.' 'then, sir, (said davies, who enlivened the dispute by making it somewhat dramatick,) he may become an insurer; and when he is going to the bench, he may be stopped,--"your lordship cannot go yet: here is a bunch of invoices: several ships are about to sail."' johnson. 'sir, you may as well say a judge should not have a house; for they may come and tell him, "your lordship's house is on fire;" and so, instead of minding the business of his court, he is to be occupied in getting the engine with the greatest speed. there is no end of this. every judge who has land, trades to a certain extent in corn or in cattle; and in the land itself, undoubtedly. his steward acts for him, and so do clerks for a great merchant. a judge may be a farmer; but he is not to geld his own pigs[ ]. a judge may play a little at cards for his amusement; but he is not to play at marbles, or at chuck-farthing in the piazza. no, sir; there is no profession to which a man gives a very great proportion of his time. it is wonderful, when a calculation is made, how little the mind is actually employed in the discharge of any profession. no man would be a judge, upon the condition of being totally a judge. the best employed lawyer has his mind at work but for a small proportion of his time: a great deal of his occupation is merely mechanical[ ]. i once wrote for a magazine: i made a calculation, that if i should write but a page a day, at the same rate, i should, in ten years, write nine volumes in folio, of an ordinary size and print.' boswell. 'such as carte's _history_?' johnson. 'yes, sir. when a man writes from his own mind, he writes very rapidly[ ]. the greatest part of a writer's time is spent in reading, in order to write: a man will turn over half a library to make one book.' i argued warmly against the judges trading, and mentioned hale as an instance of a perfect judge, who devoted himself entirely to his office. johnson. 'hale, sir, attended to other things besides law: he left a great estate.' boswell. 'that was, because what he got, accumulated without any exertion and anxiety on his part.' while the dispute went on, moody once tried to say something upon our side. tom davies clapped him on the back, to encourage him. beauclerk, to whom i mentioned this circumstance, said, 'that he could not conceive a more humiliating situation than to be clapped on the back by tom davies.' we spoke of rolt, to whose _dictionary of commerce_ dr. johnson wrote the preface[ ]. johnson. 'old gardner the bookseller employed rolt and smart to write a monthly miscellany, called _the universal visitor_[ ]. there was a formal written contract, which allen the printer saw. gardner thought as you do of the judge. they were bound to write nothing else; they were to have, i think, a third of the profits of this sixpenny pamphlet; and the contract was for ninety-nine years. i wish i had thought of giving this to thurlow, in the cause about literary property. what an excellent instance would it have been of the oppression of booksellers towards poor authours[ ]!' (smiling)! davies, zealous for the honour of _the trade_[ ], said, gardner was not properly a bookseller. johnson. 'nay, sir; he certainly was a bookseller. he had served his time regularly, was a member of the stationers' company, kept a shop in the face of mankind, purchased copyright, and was a _bibliopole_[ ], sir, in every sense. i wrote for some months in _the universal visitor_, for poor smart, while he was mad, not then knowing the terms on which he was engaged to write, and thinking i was doing him good. i hoped his wits would soon return to him. mine returned to me, and i wrote in _the universal visitor_ no longer.' friday, april , i dined with him at a tavern, with a numerous company[ ]. johnson. 'i have been reading twiss's _travels in spain_, which are just come out. they are as good as the first book of travels that you will take up. they are as good as those of keysler[ ] or blainville[ ]; nay, as addison's, if you except the learning. they are not so good as brydone's[ ], but they are better than pococke's[ ]. i have not, indeed, cut the leaves yet; but i have read in them where the pages are open, and i do not suppose that what is in the pages which are closed is worse than what is in the open pages. it would seem (he added,) that addison had not acquired much italian learning, for we do not find it introduced into his writings[ ]. the only instance that i recollect, is his quoting "_stavo bene; per star meglio, sto qui_[ ]."' i mentioned addison's having borrowed many of his classical remarks from leandro alberti[ ]. mr. beauclerk said, 'it was alledged that he had borrowed also from another italian authour.' johnson. 'why, sir, all who go to look for what the classicks have said of italy, must find the same passages; and i should think it would be one of the first things the italians would do on the revival of learning, to collect all that the roman authors have said of their country.' ossian being mentioned;--johnson. 'supposing the irish and erse languages to be the same, which i do not believe[ ], yet as there is no reason to suppose that the inhabitants of the highlands and hebrides ever wrote their native language, it is not to be credited that a long poem was preserved among them. if we had no evidence of the art of writing being practised in one of the counties of england, we should not believe that a long poem was preserved _there_, though in the neighbouring counties, where the same language was spoken, the inhabitants could write.' beauclerk. 'the ballad of _lilliburlero_ was once in the mouths of all the people of this country, and is said to have had a great effect in bringing about the revolution[ ]. yet i question whether any body can repeat it now; which shews how improbable it is that much poetry should be preserved by tradition.' one of the company suggested an internal objection to the antiquity of the poetry said to be ossian's, that we do not find the wolf in it, which must have been the case had it been of that age. the mention of the wolf had led johnson to think of other wild beasts; and while sir joshua reynolds and mr. langton were carrying on a dialogue about something which engaged them earnestly, he, in the midst of it, broke out, 'pennant tells of bears--'[what he added, i have forgotten.] they went on, which he being dull of hearing, did not perceive, or, if he did, was not willing to break off his talk; so he continued to vociferate his remarks, and _bear_ ('like a word in a catch' as beauclerk said,) was repeatedly heard at intervals, which coming from him who, by those who did not know him, had been so often assimilated to that ferocious animal[ ], while we who were sitting around could hardly stifle laughter, produced a very ludicrous effect. silence having ensued, he proceeded: 'we are told, that the black bear is innocent; but i should not like to trust myself with him.' mr. gibbon muttered, in a low tone of voice. 'i should not like to trust myself with _you_.' this piece of sarcastick pleasantry was a prudent resolution, if applied to a competition of abilities[ ]. patriotism having become one of our topicks, johnson suddenly uttered, in a strong determined tone, an apophthegm, at which many will start: 'patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel[ ].' but let it be considered, that he did not mean a real and generous love of our country, but that pretended patriotism which so many, in all ages and countries, have made a cloak for self-interest. i maintain, that certainly all patriots were not scoundrels. being urged, (not by johnson) to name one exception, i mentioned an eminent person[ ], whom we all greatly admired. johnson. 'sir, i do not say that he is _not_ honest; but we have no reason to conclude from his political conduct that he _is_ honest. were he to accept of a place from this ministry, he would lose that character of firmness which he has, and might be turned out of his place in a year. this ministry is neither stable[ ], nor grateful to their friends, as sir robert walpole was, so that he may think it more for his interest to take his chance of his party coming in.' mrs. prichard being mentioned, he said, 'her playing was quite mechanical. it is wonderful how little mind she had. sir, she had never read the tragedy of _macbeth_ all through. she no more thought of the play out of which her part was taken, than a shoemaker thinks of the skin, out of which the piece of leather, of which he is making a pair of shoes, is cut[ ].' on saturday, may [ ], i dined with him at mr. thrale's, where we met the irish dr. campbell[ ]. johnson had supped the night before at mrs. abington's, with some fashionable people whom he named; and he seemed much pleased with having made one in so elegant a circle. nor did he omit to pique his _mistress_[ ] a little with jealousy of her housewifery; for he said, (with a smile,) 'mrs. abington's jelly, my dear lady, was better than yours.' mrs. thrale, who frequently practised a coarse mode of flattery, by repeating his _bon-mots_ in his hearing[ ], told us that he had said, a certain celebrated actor was just fit to stand at the door of an auction-room with a long pole, and cry 'pray gentlemen, walk in;' and that a certain authour, upon hearing this, had said, that another still more celebrated actor was fit for nothing better than that, and would pick your pocket after you came out[ ]. johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, there is no wit in what our friend added; there is only abuse. you may as well say of any man that he will pick a pocket. besides, the man who is stationed at the door does not pick people's pockets; that is done within, by the auctioneer.' mrs. thrale told us, that tom davies repeated, in a very bald manner, the story of dr. johnson's first repartee to me, which i have related exactly[ ]. he made me say, 'i was _born_ in scotland,' instead of 'i _come from_ scotland;' so that johnson saying, 'that, sir, is what a great many of your countrymen cannot help,' had no point, or even meaning: and that upon this being mentioned to mr. fitzherbert, he observed, 'it is not every man that can _carry_ a _bon mot_.' on monday, april , i dined with him at general oglethorpe's, with mr. langton and the irish dr. campbell, whom the general had obligingly given me leave to bring with me. this learned gentleman was thus gratified with a very high intellectual feast, by not only being in company with dr. johnson, but with general oglethorpe, who had been so long a celebrated name both at home and abroad[ ]. i must, again and again, intreat of my readers not to suppose that my imperfect record of conversation contains the whole of what was said by johnson, or other eminent persons who lived with him. what i have preserved, however, has the value of the most perfect authenticity. he this day enlarged upon pope's melancholy remark, 'man never _is_, but always _to be_ blest[ ].' he asserted that _the present_ was never a happy state to any human being; but that, as every part of life, of which we are conscious, was at some point of time a period yet to come, in which felicity was expected, there was some happiness produced by hope[ ]. being pressed upon this subject, and asked if he really was of opinion, that though, in general, happiness was very rare in human life, a man was not sometimes happy in the moment that was present, he answered, 'never, but when he is drunk[ ].' he urged general oglethorpe to give the world his life. he said, 'i know no man whose life would be more interesting. if i were furnished with materials, i should be very glad to write it[ ].' mr. scott[ ] of amwell's _elegies_ were lying in the room. dr. johnson observed, 'they are very well; but such as twenty people might write.' upon this i took occasion to controvert horace's maxim, '--mediocribus esse poetis non di, non homines, non concessére columnæ.[ ]' for here, (i observed,) was a very middle-rate poet, who pleased many readers, and therefore poetry of a middle sort was entitled to some esteem; nor could i see why poetry should not, like every thing else, have different gradations of excellence, and consequently of value. johnson repeated the common remark, that, 'as there is no necessity for our having poetry at all, it being merely a luxury, an instrument of pleasure, it can have no value, unless when exquisite in its kind.' i declared myself not satisfied. 'why then, sir, (said he,) horace and you must settle it.' he was not much in the humour of talking. no more of his conversation for some days appears in my journal[ ], except that when a gentleman told him he had bought a suit of lace for his lady, he said, 'well, sir, you have done a good thing and a wise thing.' 'i have done a good thing, (said the gentleman,) but i do not know that i have done a wise thing.' johnson. 'yes, sir; no money is better spent than what is laid out for domestick satisfaction. a man is pleased that his wife is drest as well as other people; and a wife is pleased that she is drest.' on friday, april , being good-friday, i repaired to him in the morning, according to my usual custom on that day, and breakfasted with him. i observed that he fasted so very strictly[ ], that he did not even taste bread, and took no milk with his tea; i suppose because it is a kind of animal food. he entered upon the state of the nation, and thus discoursed: 'sir, the great misfortune now is, that government has too little power. all that it has to bestow must of necessity be given to support itself; so that it cannot reward merit. no man, for instance, can now be made a bishop for his learning and piety[ ]; his only chance for promotion is his being connected with somebody who has parliamentary interest. our several ministries in this reign have outbid each other in concessions to the people. lord bute, though a very honourable man,--a man who meant well,--a man who had his blood full of prerogative,--was a theoretical statesman,--a book-minister[ ],--and thought this country could be governed by the influence of the crown alone. then, sir, he gave up a great deal. he advised the king to agree that the judges should hold their places for life, instead of losing them at the accession of a new king. lord bute, i suppose, thought to make the king popular by this concession; but the people never minded it; and it was a most impolitick measure. there is no reason why a judge should hold his office for life, more than any other person in publick trust. a judge may be partial otherwise than to the crown: we have seen judges partial to the populace[ ]. a judge may become corrupt, and yet there may not be legal evidence against him. a judge may become froward from age. a judge may grow unfit for his office in many ways. it was desirable that there should be a possibility of being delivered from him by a new king. that is now gone by an act of parliament _ex gratiâ_ of the crown[ ]. lord bute advised the king to give up a very large sum of money[ ], for which nobody thanked him. it was of consequence to the king, but nothing to the publick, among whom it was divided. when i say lord bute advised, i mean, that such acts were done when he was minister, and we are to suppose that he advised them.--lord bute shewed an undue partiality to scotchmen. he turned out dr. nichols[ ], a very eminent man, from being physician to the king, to make room for one of his countrymen, a man very low in his profession[ ]. he had ----[ ] and ----[ ] to go on errands for him. he had occasion for people to go on errands for him; but he should not have had scotchmen; and, certainly, he should not have suffered them to have access to him before the first people in england.' i told him, that the admission of one of them before the first people in england, which had given the greatest offence, was no more than what happens at every minister's levee, where those who attend are admitted in the order that they have come, which is better than admitting them according to their rank; for if that were to be the rule, a man who has waited all the morning might have the mortification to see a peer, newly come, go in before him, and keep him waiting still. johnson. 'true, sir; but ---- should not have come to the levee, to be in the way of people of consequence. he saw lord bute at all times; and could have said what he had to say at any time, as well as at the levee. there is now no prime minister: there is only an agent for government in the house of commons[ ]. we are governed by the cabinet: but there is no one head there since sir robert walpole's time.' boswell. 'what then, sir, is the use of parliament?' johnson. 'why, sir, parliament is a larger council to the king; and the advantage of such a council is, having a great number of men of property concerned in the legislature, who, for their own interest, will not consent to bad laws. and you must have observed, sir, that administration is feeble and timid, and cannot act with that authority and resolution which is necessary. were i in power, i would turn out every man who dared to oppose me. government has the distribution of offices, that it may be enabled to maintain its authority[ ].' 'lord bute (he added,) took down too fast, without building up something new.' boswell. 'because, sir, he found a rotten building. the political coach was drawn by a set of bad horses: it was necessary to change them.' johnson. 'but he should have changed them one by one.' i told him that i had been informed by mr. orme[ ], that many parts of the east-indies were better mapped than the highlands of scotland. johnson. 'that a country may be mapped, it must be travelled over.' 'nay, (said i, meaning to laugh with him at one of his prejudices,) can't you say, it is not _worth_ mapping?' as we walked to st. clement's church, and saw several shops open upon this most solemn fast-day of the christian world, i remarked, that one disadvantage arising from the immensity of london, was, that nobody was heeded by his neighbour; there was no fear of censure for not observing good friday, as it ought to be kept, and as it is kept in country-towns. he said, it was, upon the whole, very well observed even in london. he, however, owned, that london was too large; but added, 'it is nonsense to say the head is too big for the body. it would be as much too big, though the body were ever so large; that is to say, though the country were ever so extensive. it has no similarity to a head connected with a body.' dr. wetherell, master of university college, oxford, accompanied us home from church; and after he was gone, there came two other gentlemen, one of whom uttered the common-place complaints, that by the increase of taxes, labour would be dear, other nations would undersell us, and our commerce would be ruined. johnson (smiling). 'never fear, sir. our commerce is in a very good state; and suppose we had no commerce at all, we could live very well on the produce of our own country.' i cannot omit to mention, that i never knew any man who was less disposed to be querulous than johnson. whether the subject was his own situation, or the state of the publick, or the state of human nature in general, though he saw the evils, his mind was turned to resolution, and never to whining or complaint[ ]. we went again to st. clement's in the afternoon. he had found fault with the preacher in the morning for not choosing a text adapted to the day. the preacher in the afternoon had chosen one extremely proper: 'it is finished.' after the evening service, he said, 'come, you shall go home with me, and sit just an hour.' but he was better than his word; for after we had drunk tea[ ] with mrs. williams, he asked me to go up to his study with him, where we sat a long while together in a serene undisturbed frame of mind, sometimes in silence, and sometimes conversing, as we felt ourselves inclined, or more properly speaking, as _he_ was inclined; for during all the course of my long intimacy with him, my respectful attention never abated, and my wish to hear him was such, that i constantly watched every dawning of communication from that great and illuminated mind. he observed, 'all knowledge is of itself of some value. there is nothing so minute or inconsiderable, that i would not rather know it than not. in the same manner, all power, of whatever sort, is of itself desirable. a man would not submit to learn to hem a ruffle, of his wife, or his wife's maid; but if a mere wish could attain it, he would rather wish to be able to hem a ruffle.' he again advised me to keep a journal[ ] fully and minutely, but not to mention such trifles as, that meat was too much or too little done, or that the weather was fair or rainy. he had, till very near his death, a contempt for the notion that the weather affects the human frame[ ]. i told him that our friend goldsmith had said to me, that he had come too late into the world, for that pope and other poets had taken up the places in the temple of fame; so that, as but a few at any period can possess poetical reputation, a man of genius can now hardly acquire it. johnson. 'that is one of the most sensible things i have ever heard of goldsmith[ ]. it is difficult to get literary fame, and it is every day growing more difficult. ah, sir, that should make a man think of securing happiness in another world, which all who try sincerely for it may attain. in comparison of that, how little are all other things! the belief of immortality is impressed upon all men, and all men act under an impression of it, however they may talk, and though, perhaps, they may be scarcely sensible of it.' i said, it appeared to me that some people had not the least notion of immortality; and i mentioned a distinguished gentleman of our acquaintance. johnson. 'sir, if it were not for the notion of immortality, he would cut a throat to fill his pockets.' when i quoted this to beauclerk, who knew much more of the gentleman than we did, he said, in his acid manner, 'he would cut a throat to fill his pockets, if it were not for fear of being hanged.' dr. johnson proceeded: 'sir, there is a great cry about infidelity[ ]; but there are, in reality, very few infidels. i have heard a person, originally a quaker, but now, i am afraid, a deist, say, that he did not believe there were, in all england, above two hundred infidels.' he was pleased to say, 'if you come to settle here, we will have one day in the week on which we will meet by ourselves. that is the happiest conversation where there is no competition, no vanity, but a calm quiet interchange of sentiments[ ].' in his private register this evening is thus marked, 'boswell sat with me till night; we had some serious talk[ ].' it also appears from the same record, that after i left him he was occupied in religious duties, in 'giving francis, his servant, some directions for preparation to communicate; in reviewing his life, and resolving on better conduct[ ].' the humility and piety which he discovers on such occasions, is truely edifying. no saint, however, in the course of his religious warfare, was more sensible of the unhappy failure of pious resolves, than johnson. he said one day, talking to an acquaintance on this subject, 'sir, hell is paved with good intentions[ ].' on sunday, april , being easter day, after having attended the solemn service at st. paul's[ ], i dined with dr. johnson and mrs. williams. i maintained that horace was wrong in placing happiness in _nil admirari_[ ], for that i thought admiration one of the most agreeable of all our feelings[ ]; and i regretted that i had lost much of my disposition to admire, which people generally do as they advance in life. johnson. 'sir, as a man advances in life, he gets what is better than admiration--judgement, to estimate things at their true value.' i still insisted that admiration was more pleasing than judgement, as love is more pleasing than friendship. the feeling of friendship is like that of being comfortably filled with roast beef; love, like being enlivened with champagne. johnson. 'no, sir; admiration and love are like being intoxicated with champagne; judgement and friendship like being enlivened. waller has hit upon the same thought with you[ ]: but i don't believe you have borrowed from waller. i wish you would enable yourself to borrow more[ ].' he then took occasion to enlarge on the advantages of reading, and combated the idle superficial notion, that knowledge enough may be acquired in conversation. 'the foundation (said he,) must be laid by reading. general principles must be had from books, which, however, must be brought to the test of real life. in conversation you never get a system. what is said upon a subject is to be gathered from a hundred people. the parts of a truth, which a man gets thus, are at such a distance from each other that he never attains to a full view.' 'to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have enquired more minutely about the medicine for the rheumatism, which i am sorry to hear that you still want. the receipt is this: 'take equal quantities of flour of sulphur, and _flour_ of mustard-seed, make them an electuary with honey or treacle; and take a bolus as big as a nutmeg several times a day, as you can bear it: drinking after it a quarter of a pint of the infusion of the root of lovage. 'lovage, in ray's _nomenclature_, is levisticum: perhaps the botanists may know the latin name. 'of this medicine i pretend not to judge. there is all the appearance of its efficacy, which a single instance can afford: the patient was very old, the pain very violent, and the relief, i think, speedy and lasting. 'my opinion of alterative medicine is not high, but _quid tentasse nocebit_? if it does harm, or does no good, it may be omitted; but that it may do good, you have, i hope, reason to think is desired by, 'sir, your most affectionate, humble servant, sam. johnson.' 'april , .' on tuesday, april , he and i were engaged to go with sir joshua reynolds to dine with mr. cambridge[ ], at his beautiful villa on the banks of the thames, near twickenham. dr. johnson's tardiness was such, that sir joshua, who had an appointment at richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to johnson and me. johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along. our conversation turned on a variety of subjects. he thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a woman[ ]. 'publick practice of any art, (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female.' i happened to start a question, whether, when a man knows that some of his intimate friends are invited to the house of another friend, with whom they are all equally intimate, he may join them without an invitation. johnson. 'no, sir; he is not to go when he is not invited. they may be invited on purpose to abuse him' (smiling). as a curious instance how little a man knows, or wishes to know, his own character in the world, or, rather, as a convincing proof that johnson's roughness was only external, and did not proceed from his heart, i insert the following dialogue. johnson. 'it is wonderful, sir, how rare a quality good humour is in life. we meet with very few good humoured men.' i mentioned four of our friends[ ], none of whom he would allow to be good humoured. one was _acid_, another was _muddy_[ ], and to the others he had objections which have escaped me. then, shaking his head and stretching himself at ease in the coach, and smiling with much complacency, he turned to me and said, 'i look upon _myself_ as a good humoured fellow.' the epithet _fellow_, applied to the great lexicographer, the stately moralist, the masterly critick, as if he had been sam johnson, a mere pleasant companion, was highly diverting; and this light notion of himself struck me with wonder. i answered, also smiling, 'no, no, sir; that will _not_ do. you are good natured, but not good humoured[ ]: you are irascible. you have not patience with folly and absurdity. i believe you would pardon them, if there were time to deprecate your vengeance; but punishment follows so quick after sentence, that they cannot escape.' i had brought with me a great bundle of scotch magazines and news-papers, in which his _journey to the western islands_ was attacked in every mode; and i read a great part of them to him, knowing they would afford him entertainment. i wish the writers of them had been present: they would have been sufficiently vexed. one ludicrous imitation of his style, by mr. maclaurin[ ], now one of the scotch judges, with the title of lord dreghorn, was distinguished by him from the rude mass. 'this (said he,) is the best. but i could caricature my own style much better myself.' he defended his remark upon the general insufficiency of education in scotland; and confirmed to me the authenticity of his witty saying on the learning of the scotch;--'their learning is like bread in a besieged town: every man gets a little, but no man gets a full meal[ ].' 'there is (said he,) in scotland, a diffusion of learning, a certain portion of it widely and thinly spread. a merchant there has as much learning as one of their clergy[ ].' he talked of isaac walton's _lives_, which was one of his most favourite books. dr. donne's _life_, he said, was the most perfect of them. he observed, that 'it was wonderful that walton, who was in a very low situation in life, should have been familiarly received by so many great men, and that at a time when the ranks of society were kept more separate than they are now.' he supposed that walton had then given up his business as a linen draper and sempster, and was only an authour[ ]; and added, 'that he was a great panegyrist.' boswell. 'no quality will get a man more friends than a disposition to admire the qualities of others. i do not mean flattery, but a sincere admiration.' johnson. 'nay, sir, flattery pleases very generally[ ]. in the first place, the flatterer may think what he says to be true: but, in the second place, whether he thinks so or not, he certainly thinks those whom he flatters of consequence enough to be flattered.' no sooner had we made our bow to mr. cambridge, in his library, than johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books[ ]. sir joshua observed, (aside,) 'he runs to the books, as i do to the pictures: but i have the advantage. i can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books.' mr. cambridge, upon this, politely said, 'dr. johnson, i am going, with your pardon, to accuse myself, for i have the same custom which i perceive you have. but it seems odd that one should have such a desire to look at the backs of books.' johnson, ever ready for contest, instantly started from his reverie, wheeled about, and answered, 'sir, the reason is very plain. knowledge is of two kinds. we know a subject ourselves, or we know where we can find information upon it. when we enquire into any subject, the first thing we have to do is to know what books have treated of it. this leads us to look at catalogues, and the backs of books in libraries.' sir joshua observed to me the extraordinary promptitude with which johnson flew upon an argument. 'yes, (said i,) he has no formal preparation, no flourishing with his sword; he is through your body in an instant[ ].' johnson was here solaced with an elegant entertainment, a very accomplished family, and much good company; among whom was mr. harris[ ] of salisbury, who paid him many compliments on his _journey to the western islands_. the common remark as to the utility of reading history being made;-- johnson. 'we must consider how very little history there is; i mean real authentick history. that certain kings reigned, and certain battles were fought, we can depend upon as true; but all the colouring, all the philosophy of history is conjecture[ ].' boswell. 'then, sir, you would reduce all history to no better than an almanack[ ], a mere chronological series of remarkable events.' mr. gibbon, who must at that time have been employed upon his _history_[ ], of which he published the first volume in the following year, was present; but did not step forth in defence of that species of writing. he probably did not like to trust himself with johnson[ ]! johnson observed, that the force of our early habits was so great, that though reason approved, nay, though our senses relished a different course, almost every man returned to them. i do not believe there is any observation upon human nature better founded than this; and, in many cases, it is a very painful truth; for where early habits have been mean and wretched, the joy and elevation resulting from better modes of life must be damped by the gloomy consciousness of being under an almost inevitable doom to sink back into a situation which we recollect with disgust. it surely may be prevented, by constant attention and unremitting exertion to establish contrary habits of superiour efficacy. _the beggar's opera_, and the common question, whether it was pernicious in its effects, having been introduced;--johnson. 'as to this matter, which has been very much contested, i myself am of opinion, that more influence has been ascribed to _the beggar's opera_, than it in reality ever had; for i do not believe that any man was ever made a rogue by being present at its representation. at the same time i do not deny that it may have some influence, by making the character of a rogue familiar, and in some degree pleasing[ ].' then collecting himself as it were, to give a heavy stroke: 'there is in it such a _labefactation_ of all principles, as may be injurious to morality.' while he pronounced this response, we sat in a comical sort of restraint, smothering a laugh, which we were afraid might burst out. in his _life of gay_, he has been still more decisive as to the inefficiency of _the beggar's opera_ in corrupting society[ ]. but i have ever thought somewhat differently; for, indeed, not only are the gaiety and heroism of a highwayman very captivating to a youthful imagination, but the arguments for adventurous depredation are so plausible, the allusions so lively, and the contrasts with the ordinary and more painful modes of acquiring property are so artfully displayed, that it requires a cool and strong judgement to resist so imposing an aggregate: yet, i own, i should be very sorry to have _the beggar's opera_ suppressed; for there is in it so much of real london life, so much brilliant wit, and such a variety of airs, which, from early association of ideas, engage, soothe, and enliven the mind, that no performance which the theatre exhibits, delights me more. the late '_worthy_' duke of queensberry[ ], as thomson, in his _seasons_, justly characterises him, told me, that when gay first shewed him _the beggar's opera_, his grace's observation was, 'this is a very odd thing, gay; i am satisfied that it is either a very good thing, or a very bad thing.' it proved the former, beyond the warmest expectations of the authour or his friends, mr. cambridge, however, shewed us to-day, that there was good reason enough to doubt concerning its success. he was told by quin, that during the first night of its appearance it was long in a very dubious state; that there was a disposition to damn it, and that it was saved by the song[ ], 'oh ponder well! be not severe!' the audience being much affected by the innocent looks of polly, when she came to those two lines, which exhibit at once a painful and ridiculous image, 'for on the rope that hangs my dear, depends poor polly's life.' quin himself had so bad an opinion of it, that he refused the part of captain macheath, and gave it to walker[ ], who acquired great celebrity by his grave yet animated performance of it[ ]. we talked of a young gentleman's marriage with an eminent singer[ ], and his determination that she should no longer sing in publick, though his father was very earnest she should, because her talents would be liberally rewarded, so as to make her a good fortune. it was questioned whether the young gentleman, who had not a shilling in the world[ ], but was blest with very uncommon talents, was not foolishly delicate, or foolishly proud, and his father truely rational without being mean. johnson, with all the high spirit of a roman senator, exclaimed, 'he resolved wisely and nobly to be sure. he is a brave man. would not a gentleman be disgraced by having his wife singing publickly for hire? no, sir, there can be no doubt here. i know not if i should not _prepare_ myself for a publick singer, as readily as let my wife be one.' johnson arraigned the modern politicks of this country, as entirely devoid of all principle of whatever kind. 'politicks (said he) are now nothing more than means of rising in the world. with this sole view do men engage in politicks, and their whole conduct proceeds upon it. how different in that respect is the state of the nation now from what it was in the time of charles the first, during the usurpation, and after the restoration, in the time of charles the second. _hudibras_ affords a strong proof how much hold political principles had then upon the minds of men. there is in _hudibras_ a great deal of bullion which will always last. but to be sure the brightest strokes of his wit owed their force to the impression of the characters, which was upon men's minds at the time; to their knowing them, at table and in the street; in short, being familiar with them; and above all, to his satire being directed against those whom a little while before they had hated and feared[ ]. the nation in general has ever been loyal, has been at all times attached to the monarch, though a few daring rebels have been wonderfully powerful for a time. the murder of charles the first was undoubtedly not committed with the approbation or consent of the people. had that been the case, parliament would not have ventured to consign the regicides to their deserved punishment. and we know what exuberance of joy there was when charles the second was restored. if charles the second had bent all his mind to it, had made it his sole object, he might have been as absolute as louis the fourteenth.' a gentleman observed he would have done no harm if he had. johnson. 'why, sir, absolute princes seldom do any harm. but they who are governed by them are governed by chance. there is no security for good government.' cambridge. 'there have been many sad victims to absolute government.' johnson. 'so, sir, have there been to popular factions.' boswell. 'the question is, which is worst, one wild beast or many?' johnson praised _the spectator_, particularly the character of sir roger de coverley. he said, 'sir roger did not die a violent death, as has been generally fancied. he was not killed; he died only because others were to die, and because his death afforded an opportunity to addison for some very fine writing. we have the example of cervantes making don quixote die[ ].--i never could see why sir roger is represented as a little cracked. it appears to me that the story of the widow was intended to have something superinduced upon it: but the superstructure did not come[ ].' somebody found fault with writing verses in a dead language, maintaining that they were merely arrangements of so many words, and laughed at the universities of oxford and cambridge, for sending forth collections of them not only in greek and latin, but even in syriac, arabick, and other more unknown tongues. johnson. 'i would have as many of these as possible; i would have verses in every language that there are the means of acquiring. nobody imagines that an university is to have at once two hundred poets; but it should be able to show two hundred scholars. pieresc's[ ] death was lamented, i think, in forty languages. and i would have had at every coronation, and every death of a king, every _gaudium_, and every _luctus_, university-verses, in as many languages as can be acquired. i would have the world to be thus told, "here is a school where every thing may be learnt."' having set out next day on a visit to the earl of pembroke, at wilton[ ], and to my friend, mr. temple[ ], at mamhead, in devonshire, and not having returned to town till the second of may, i did not see dr. johnson for a considerable time, and during the remaining part of my stay in london, kept very imperfect notes of his conversation, which had i according to my usual custom written out at large soon after the time, much might have been preserved, which is now irretrievably lost. i can now only record some particular scenes, and a few fragments of his _memorabilia_. but to make some amends for my relaxation of diligence in one respect, i have to present my readers with arguments upon two law cases, with which he favoured me. on saturday, the sixth of may, we dined by ourselves at the mitre, and he dictated to me what follows, to obviate the complaint already mentioned[ ], which had been made in the form of an action in the court of session, by dr. memis, of aberdeen, that in the same translation of a charter in which _physicians_ were mentioned, he was called _doctor of medicine_. 'there are but two reasons for which a physician can decline the title of _doctor of medicine_, because he supposes himself disgraced by the doctorship, or supposes the doctorship disgraced by himself. to be disgraced by a title which he shares in common with every illustrious name of his profession, with boerhaave, with arbuthnot, and with cullen, can surely diminish no man's reputation. it is, i suppose, to the doctorate, from which he shrinks, that he owes his right of practising physick. a doctor of medicine is a physician under the protection of the laws, and by the stamp of authority. the physician, who is not a doctor, usurps a profession, and is authorised only by himself to decide upon health and sickness, and life and death. that this gentleman is a doctor, his diploma makes evident; a diploma not obtruded upon him, but obtained by solicitation, and for which fees were paid. with what countenance any man can refuse the title which he has either begged or bought, is not easily discovered. 'all verbal injury must comprise in it either some false position, or some unnecessary declaration of defamatory truth. that in calling him doctor, a false appellation was given him, he himself will not pretend, who at the same time that he complains of the title, would be offended if we supposed him to be not a doctor. if the title of doctor be a defamatory truth, it is time to dissolve our colleges; for why should the publick give salaries to men whose approbation is reproach? it may likewise deserve the notice of the publick to consider what help can be given to the professors of physick, who all share with this unhappy gentleman the ignominious appellation, and of whom the very boys in the street are not afraid to say, _there goes the doctor_. 'what is implied by the term doctor is well known. it distinguishes him to whom it is granted, as a man who has attained such knowledge of his profession as qualifies him to instruct others. a doctor of laws is a man who can form lawyers by his precepts. a doctor of medicine is a man who can teach the art of curing diseases. there is an old axiom which no man has yet thought fit to deny, _nil dat quod non habet_. upon this principle to be doctor implies skill, for _nemo docet quod non didicit_. in england, whoever practises physick, not being a doctor, must practise by a licence: but the doctorate conveys a licence in itself. 'by what accident it happened that he and the other physicians were mentioned in different terms, where the terms themselves were equivalent, or where in effect that which was applied to him was the most honourable, perhaps they who wrote the paper cannot now remember. had they expected a lawsuit to have been the consequence of such petty variation, i hope they would have avoided it[ ]. but, probably, as they meant no ill, they suspected no danger, and, therefore, consulted only what appeared to them propriety or convenience.' a few days afterwards i consulted him upon a cause, _paterson and others_ against _alexander and others_, which had been decided by a casting vote in the court of session, determining that the corporation of stirling was corrupt, and setting aside the election of some of their officers, because it was proved that three of the leading men who influenced the majority had entered into an unjustifiable compact, of which, however, the majority were ignorant. he dictated to me, after a little consideration, the following sentences upon the subject:-- 'there is a difference between majority and superiority; majority is applied to number, and superiority to power; and power, like many other things, is to be estimated _non numero sed pondere_. now though the greater _number_ is not corrupt, the greater _weight_ is corrupt, so that corruption predominates in the borough, taken _collectively_, though, perhaps, taken _numerically_, the greater part may be uncorrupt. that borough, which is so constituted as to act corruptly, is in the eye of reason corrupt, whether it be by the uncontrolable power of a few, or by an accidental pravity of the multitude. the objection, in which is urged the injustice of making the innocent suffer with the guilty, is an objection not only against society, but against the possibility of society. all societies, great and small, subsist upon this condition; that as the individuals derive advantages from union, they may likewise suffer inconveniences; that as those who do nothing, and sometimes those who do ill, will have the honours and emoluments of general virtue and general prosperity, so those likewise who do nothing, or perhaps do well, must be involved in the consequences of predominant corruption.' this in my opinion was a very nice case; but the decision was affirmed in the house of lords. on monday, may , we went together and visited the mansions of bedlam[ ]. i had been informed that he had once been there before with mr. wedderburne, (now lord loughborough,) mr. murphy, and mr. foote; and i had heard foote give a very entertaining account of johnson's happening to have his attention arrested by a man who was very furious, and who, while beating his straw[ ], supposed it was william duke of cumberland, whom he was punishing for his cruelties in scotland, in [ ]. there was nothing peculiarly remarkable this day; but the general contemplation of insanity was very affecting. i accompanied him home, and dined and drank tea with him. talking of an acquaintance of ours[ ], distinguished for knowing an uncommon variety of miscellaneous articles both in antiquities and polite literature, he observed, 'you know, sir, he runs about with little weight upon his mind.' and talking of another very ingenious gentleman[ ], who from the warmth of his temper was at variance with many of his acquaintance, and wished to avoid them, he said, 'sir, he leads the life of an outlaw.' on friday, may [ ], as he had been so good as to assign me a room in his house, where i might sleep occasionally, when i happened to sit with him to a late hour, i took possession of it this night, found every thing in excellent order, and was attended by honest francis with a most civil assiduity. i asked johnson whether i might go to a consultation with another lawyer upon sunday, as that appeared to me to be doing work as much in my way, as if an artisan should work on the day appropriated for religious rest. johnson. 'why, sir, when you are of consequence enough to oppose the practice of consulting upon sunday, you should do it: but you may go now. it is not criminal, though it is not what one should do, who is anxious for the preservation and increase of piety, to which a peculiar observance of sunday is a great help. the distinction is clear between what is of moral and what is of ritual obligation.' on saturday, may , i breakfasted with him by invitation, accompanied by mr. andrew crosbie[ ], a scotch advocate, whom he had seen at edinburgh, and the hon. colonel (now general) edward stopford, brother to lord courtown, who was desirous of being introduced to him. his tea and rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous, that colonel stopford was quite surprised, and wondered at his having heard so much said of johnson's slovenliness and roughness. i have preserved nothing of what passed, except that crosbie pleased him much by talking learnedly of alchymy, as to which johnson was not a positive unbeliever, but rather delighted in considering what progress had actually been made in the transmutation of metals, what near approaches there had been to the making of gold; and told us that it was affirmed, that a person in the russian dominions had discovered the secret, but died without revealing it, as imagining it would be prejudicial to society. he added, that it was not impossible but it might in time be generally known. it being asked whether it was reasonable for a man to be angry at another whom a woman had preferred to him;--johnson. 'i do not see, sir, that it is reasonable for a man to be angry at another, whom a woman has preferred to him: but angry he is, no doubt; and he is loath to be angry at himself.' before setting out for scotland on the rd[ ], i was frequently in his company at different places, but during this period have recorded only two remarks: one concerning garrick: 'he has not latin enough. he finds out the latin by the meaning rather than the meaning by the latin[ ].' and another concerning writers of travels, who, he observed, 'were more defective than any other writers[ ].' i passed many hours with him on the th[ ], of which i find all my memorial is, 'much laughing.' it should seem he had that day been in a humour for jocularity and merriment, and upon such occasions i never knew a man laugh more heartily. we may suppose, that the high relish of a state so different from his habitual gloom, produced more than ordinary exertions of that distinguishing faculty of man, which has puzzled philosophers so much to explain[ ]. johnson's laugh was as remarkable as any circumstance in his manner. it was a kind of good humoured growl. tom davies described it drolly enough: 'he laughs like a rhinoceros.' 'to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have an old amanuensis[ ] in great distress. i have given what i think i can give, and begged till i cannot tell where to beg again. i put into his hands this morning four guineas. if you could collect three guineas more, it would clear him from his present difficulty. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i make no doubt but you are now safely lodged in your own habitation, and have told all your adventures to mrs. boswell and miss veronica. pray teach veronica to love me. bid her not mind mamma. 'mrs. thrale has taken cold, and been very much disordered, but i hope is grown well. mr. langton went yesterday to lincolnshire, and has invited nicolaida[ ] to follow him. beauclerk talks of going to bath. i am to set out on monday; so there is nothing but dispersion. 'i have returned lord hailes's entertaining sheets[ ], but must stay till i come back for more, because it will be inconvenient to send them after me in my vagrant state. 'i promised mrs. macaulay[ ] that i would try to serve her son at oxford. i have not forgotten it, nor am unwilling to perform it. if they desire to give him an english education, it should be considered whether they cannot send him for a year or two to an english school. if he comes immediately from scotland, he can make no figure in our universities. the schools in the north, i believe, are cheap; and, when i was a young man, were eminently good. 'there are two little books published by the foulis[ ], telemachus and collins's _poems_, each a shilling: i would be glad to have them. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, though she does not love me. you see what perverse things ladies are, and how little fit to be trusted with feudal estates. when she mends and loves me, there may be more hope of her daughters. 'i will not send compliments to my friends by name, because i would be loath to leave any out in the enumeration. tell them, as you see them, how well i speak of scotch politeness, and scotch hospitality, and scotch beauty, and of every thing scotch, but scotch oat-cakes, and scotch prejudices. 'let me know the answer of rasay[ ], and the decision relating to sir allan[ ]. 'i am, my dearest sir, with great affection, 'your most obliged, and 'most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' after my return to scotland, i wrote three letters to him, from which i extract the following passages:-- 'i have seen lord hailes since i came down. he thinks it wonderful that you are pleased to take so much pains in revising his _annals_. i told him that you said you were well rewarded by the entertainment which you had in reading them.' 'there has been a numerous flight of hebrideans in edinburgh this summer, whom i have been happy to entertain at my house. mr. donald macqueen[ ] and lord monboddo supped with me one evening. they joined in controverting your proposition, that the gaelick of the highlands and isles of scotland was not written till of late.' 'my mind has been somewhat dark this summer[ ]. i have need of your warming and vivifying rays; and i hope i shall have them frequently. i am going to pass some time with my father at auchinleck.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am returned from the annual ramble into the middle counties[ ]. having seen nothing i had not seen before, i have nothing to relate. time has left that part of the island few antiquities; and commerce has left the people no singularities. i was glad to go abroad, and, perhaps, glad to come home; which is, in other words, i was, i am afraid, weary of being at home, and weary of being abroad. is not this the state of life? but, if we confess this weariness, let us not lament it, for all the wise and all the good say, that we may cure it. 'for the black fumes which rise in your mind, i can prescribe nothing but that you disperse them by honest business or innocent pleasure, and by reading, sometimes easy and sometimes serious. change of place is useful; and i hope that your residence at auchinleck will have many good effects[ ]. 'that i should have given pain to rasay, i am sincerely sorry; and am therefore very much pleased that he is no longer uneasy. he still thinks that i have represented him as personally giving up the chieftainship. i meant only that it was no longer contested between the two houses, and supposed it settled, perhaps, by the cession of some remote generation, in the house of dunvegan. i am sorry the advertisement was not continued for three or four times in the paper. 'that lord monboddo and mr. macqueen should controvert a position contrary to the imaginary interest of literary or national prejudice, might be easily imagined; but of a standing fact there ought to be no controversy: if there are men with tails, catch an _homo caudatus_; if there was writing of old in the highlands or hebrides, in the erse language, produce the manuscripts. where men write, they will write to one another, and some of their letters, in families studious of their ancestry, will be kept. in wales there are many manuscripts. 'i have now three parcels of lord hailes's history, which i purpose to return all the next week: that his respect for my little observations should keep his work in suspense, makes one of the evils of my journey. it is in our language, i think, a new mode of history, which tells all that is wanted, and, i suppose, all that is known, without laboured splendour of language, or affected subtilty of conjecture. the exactness of his dates raises my wonder. he seems to have the closeness of henault[ ] without his constraint. 'mrs. thrale was so entertained with your _journal_[ ], that she almost read herself blind. she has a great regard for you. 'of mrs. boswell, though she knows in her heart that she does not love me, i am always glad to hear any good, and hope that she and the little dear ladies will have neither sickness nor any other affliction. but she knows that she does not care what becomes of me, and for that she may be sure that i think her very much to blame. 'never, my dear sir, do you take it into your head to think that i do not love you; you may settle yourself in full confidence both of my love and my esteem; i love you as a kind man, i value you as a worthy man, and hope in time to reverence you as a man of exemplary piety. i hold you, as hamlet has it, 'in my heart of hearts[ ],' and therefore, it is little to say, that i am, sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, aug. , .' to the same. 'sir, 'if in these papers[ ] there is little alteration attempted, do not suppose me negligent. i have read them perhaps more closely than the rest; but i find nothing worthy of an objection. 'write to me soon, and write often, and tell me all your honest heart. 'i am sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'aug. , .' to the same. 'my dear sir, 'i now write to you, lest in some of your freaks and humours you should fancy yourself neglected. such fancies i must entreat you never to admit, at least never to indulge: for my regard for you is so radicated and fixed, that it is become part of my mind, and cannot be effaced but by some cause uncommonly violent; therefore, whether i write or not, set your thoughts at rest. i now write to tell you that i shall not very soon write again, for i am to set out to-morrow on another journey. * * * * * 'your friends are all well at streatham, and in leicester-fields[ ]. make my compliments to mrs. boswell, if she is in good humour with me. 'i am, sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'september , .' what he mentions in such light terms as, 'i am to set out to-morrow on another journey,' i soon afterwards discovered was no less than a tour to france with mr. and mrs. thrale. this was the only time in his life that he went upon the continent. 'to mr. robert levet. 'sept. [ ], . calais. 'dear sir, 'we are here in france, after a very pleasing passage of no more than six hours. i know not when i shall write again, and therefore i write now, though you cannot suppose that i have much to say. you have seen france yourself[ ]. from this place we are going to rouen, and from rouen to paris, where mr. thrale designs to stay about five or six weeks. we have a regular recommendation to the english resident, so we shall not be taken for vagabonds. we think to go one way and return another, and for [?see] as much as we can. i will try to speak a little french[ ]; i tried hitherto but little, but i spoke sometimes. if i heard better, i suppose i should learn faster. i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' to the same. 'paris, oct. , . 'dear sir, 'we are still here, commonly very busy in looking about us. we have been to-day at versailles. you have seen it, and i shall not describe it. we came yesterday from fontainbleau, where the court is now. we went to see the king and queen at dinner, and the queen was so impressed by miss[ ], that she sent one of the gentlemen to enquire who she was. i find all true that you have ever told me of paris. mr. thrale is very liberal, and keeps us two coaches, and a very fine table; but i think our cookery very bad[ ]. mrs. thrale got into a convent of english nuns, and i talked with her through the grate, and i am very kindly used by the english benedictine friars. but upon the whole i cannot make much acquaintance here; and though the churches, palaces, and some private houses are very magnificent, there is no very great pleasure after having seen many, in seeing more; at least the pleasure, whatever it be, must some time have an end, and we are beginning to think when we shall come home. mr. thrale calculates that, as we left streatham on the fifteenth of september, we shall see it again about the fifteenth of november. 'i think i had not been on this side of the sea five days before i found a sensible improvement in my health. i ran a race in the rain this day, and beat baretti. baretti is a fine fellow, and speaks french, i think, quite as well as english[ ]. 'make my compliments to mrs. williams; and give my love to francis; and tell my friends that i am not lost. i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, oct. , . 'my dear sir, 'if i had not been informed that you were at paris, you should have had a letter from me by the earliest opportunity, announcing the birth of my son, on the th instant; i have named him alexander[ ], after my father. i now write, as i suppose your fellow traveller, mr. thrale, will return to london this week, to attend his duty in parliament, and that you will not stay behind him. 'i send another parcel of lord hailes's _annals_, i have undertaken to solicit you for a favour to him, which he thus requests in a letter to me: "i intend soon to give you _the life of robert bruce_, which you will be pleased to transmit to dr. johnson. i wish that you could assist me in a fancy which i have taken, of getting dr. johnson to draw a character of robert bruce, from the account that i give of that prince. if he finds materials for it in my work, it will be a proof that i have been fortunate in selecting the most striking incidents." 'i suppose by _the life of robert bruce_, his lordship means that part of his _annals_ which relates the history of that prince, and not a separate work. 'shall we have _a journey to paris_ from you in the winter? you will, i hope, at any rate be kind enough to give me some account of your french travels very soon, for i am very impatient. what a different scene have you viewed this autumn, from that which you viewed in autumn ! i ever am, my dear sir, 'your much obliged and 'affectionate humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am glad that the young laird is born, and an end, as i hope, put to the only difference that you can ever have with mrs. boswell[ ]. i know that she does not love me; but i intend to persist in wishing her well till i get the better of her. 'paris is, indeed, a place very different from the hebrides, but it is to a hasty traveller not so fertile of novelty, nor affords so many opportunities of remark. i cannot pretend to tell the publick any thing of a place better known to many of my readers than to myself. we can talk of it when we meet. 'i shall go next week to streatham, from whence i purpose to send a parcel of the _history_ every post. concerning the character of bruce, i can only say, that i do not see any great reason for writing it; but i shall not easily deny what lord hailes and you concur in desiring. 'i have been remarkably healthy all the journey, and hope you and your family have known only that trouble and danger which has so happily terminated. among all the congratulations that you may receive, i hope you believe none more warm or sincere, than those of, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'sam. johnson.' 'november , [ ].' 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield[ ]. 'dear madam, 'this week i came home from paris. i have brought you a little box, which i thought pretty; but i know not whether it is properly a snuff-box, or a box for some other use. i will send it, when i can find an opportunity. i have been through the whole journey remarkably well. my fellow-travellers were the same whom you saw at lichfield[ ], only we took baretti with us. paris is not so fine a place as you would expect. the palaces and churches, however, are very splendid and magnificent; and what would please you, there are many very fine pictures; but i do not think their way of life commodious or pleasant[ ]. 'let me know how your health has been all this while. i hope the fine summer has given you strength sufficient to encounter the winter. 'make my compliments to all my friends; and, if your fingers will let you, write to me, or let your maid write, if it be troublesome to you. i am, dear madam, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'november , .' to the same. 'dear madam, 'some weeks ago i wrote to you, to tell you that i was just come home from a ramble, and hoped that i should have heard from you. i am afraid winter has laid hold on your fingers, and hinders you from writing. however, let somebody write, if you cannot, and tell me how you do, and a little of what has happened at lichfield among our friends. i hope you are all well. 'when i was in france, i thought myself growing young, but am afraid that cold weather will take part of my new vigour from me. let us, however, take care of ourselves, and lose no part of our health by negligence. 'i never knew whether you received the _commentary on the new testament_ and the _travels_, and the glasses. 'do, my dear love, write to me; and do not let us forget each other. this is the season of good wishes, and i wish you all good. i have not lately seen mr. porter[ ], nor heard of him. is he with you? 'be pleased to make my compliments to mrs. adey, and mrs. cobb, and all my friends; and when i can do any good, let me know. 'i am, dear madam, 'yours most affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'december, .' it is to be regretted that he did not write an account of his travels in france; for as he is reported to have once said, that 'he could write the life of a broomstick[ ],' so, notwithstanding so many former travellers have exhausted almost every subject for remark in that great kingdom, his very accurate observation, and peculiar vigour of thought and illustration, would have produced a valuable work. during his visit to it, which lasted but about two months, he wrote notes or minutes of what he saw. he promised to show me them, but i neglected to put him in mind of it; and the greatest part of them has been lost, or perhaps, destroyed in a precipitate burning of his papers a few days before his death, which must ever be lamented. one small paper-book, however, entitled 'france ii,' has been preserved, and is in my possession. it is a diurnal register of his life and observations, from the th of october to the th of november, inclusive, being twenty-six days, and shows an extraordinary attention to various minute particulars. being the only memorial of this tour that remains, my readers, i am confident, will peruse it with pleasure, though his notes are very short, and evidently written only to assist his own recollection. 'oct. . tuesday. we saw the _ecole militaire_, in which one hundred and fifty young boys are educated for the army. they have arms of different sizes, according to the age;--flints of wood. the building is very large, but nothing fine, except the council-room. the french have large squares in the windows;--they make good iron palisades. their meals are gross. 'we visited the observatory, a large building of a great height. the upper stones of the parapet very large, but not cramped with iron. the flat on the top is very extensive; but on the insulated part there is no parapet. though it was broad enough, i did not care to go upon it. maps were printing in one of the rooms. 'we walked to a small convent of the fathers of the oratory. in the reading-desk of the refectory lay the lives of the saints. 'oct. . wednesday. we went to see _hotel de chatlois_[ ], a house not very large, but very elegant. one of the rooms was gilt to a degree that i never saw before. the upper part for servants and their masters was pretty. 'thence we went to mr. monville's, a house divided into small apartments, furnished with effeminate and minute elegance.--porphyry. 'thence we went to st. roque's church, which is very large;--the lower part of the pillars incrusted with marble.--three chapels behind the high altar;--the last a mass of low arches.--altars, i believe, all round. 'we passed through _place de vendôme_, a fine square, about as big as hanover-square.--inhabited by the high families.--lewis xiv. on horse-back in the middle. 'monville is the son of a farmer-general. in the house of chatlois is a room furnished with japan, fitted up in europe. 'we dined with boccage[ ], the marquis blanchetti, and his lady.--the sweetmeats taken by the marchioness blanchetti, after observing that they were dear.--mr. le roy, count manucci, the abbé, the prior[ ], and father wilson, who staid with me, till i took him home in the coach. 'bathiani is gone. 'the french have no laws for the maintenance of their poor.--monk not necessarily a priest.--benedictines rise at four; are at church an hour and half; at church again half an hour before, half an hour after, dinner; and again from half an hour after seven to eight. they may sleep eight hours.--bodily labour wanted in monasteries. 'the poor taken to hospitals, and miserably kept.--monks in the convent fifteen:--accounted poor. 'oct. . thursday. we went to the gobelins.--tapestry makes a good picture;--imitates flesh exactly.--one piece with a gold ground;--the birds not exactly coloured.--thence we went to the king's cabinet;--very neat, not, perhaps, perfect.--gold ore.--candles of the candle-tree.-- seeds.--woods. thence to gagnier's house, where i saw rooms nine, furnished with a profusion of wealth and elegance which i never had seen before.--vases.--pictures.--the dragon china.--the lustre said to be of crystal, and to have cost , £.--the whole furniture said to have cost , £.--damask hangings covered with pictures.--porphyry.--this house struck me.--then we waited on the ladies to monville's.--captain irwin with us[ ].--spain. county towns all beggars.--at dijon he could not find the way to orleans.--cross roads of france very bad.--five soldiers.--woman.--soldiers escaped.--the colonel would not lose five men for the death of one woman.--the magistrate cannot seize a soldier but by the colonel's permission.--good inn at nismes.--moors of barbary fond of englishmen.--gibraltar eminently healthy;--it has beef from barbary;--there is a large garden.--soldiers sometimes fall from the rock. 'oct. . friday. i staid at home all day, only went to find the prior, who was not at home.--i read something in canus[ ].--_nec admiror, nec multum laudo_. oct. . saturday. we went to the house of mr. argenson, which was almost wainscotted with looking-glasses, and covered with gold.--the ladies' closet wainscotted with large squares of glass over painted paper. they always place mirrours to reflect their rooms. 'then we went to julien's, the treasurer of the clergy:-- , £ a year.--the house has no very large room, but is set with mirrours, and covered with gold.--books of wood here, and in another library. 'at d----'s[ ] i looked into the books in the lady's closet, and, in contempt, shewed them to mr. t.--_prince titi_[ ]; _bibl. des fées_, and other books.--she was offended, and shut up, as we heard afterwards, her apartment. 'then we went to julien le roy, the king's watch-maker, a man of character in his business, who shewed a small clock made to find the longitude[ ].--a decent man. 'afterwards we saw the _palais marchand_[ ], and the courts of justice, civil and criminal.--queries on the _sellette_[ ].--this building has the old gothick passages, and a great appearance of antiquity.--three hundred prisoners sometimes in the gaol[ ]. 'much disturbed; hope no ill will be[ ]. 'in the afternoon i visited mr. freron the journalist[ ]. he spoke latin very scantily, but seemed to understand me.--his house not splendid, but of commodious size.--his family, wife, son, and daughter, not elevated but decent.--i was pleased with my reception.--he is to translate my books, which i am to send him with notes. 'oct. . sunday. at choisi, a royal palace on the banks of the seine, about m. from paris.--the terrace noble along the river.--the rooms numerous and grand, but not discriminated from other palaces.--the chapel beautiful, but small.--china globes.--inlaid tables.--labyrinth. --sinking table[ ].--toilet tables. 'oct. . monday. the palais royal very grand, large, and lofty.--a very great collection of pictures.--three of raphael.--two holy family.--one small piece of m. angelo.--one room of rubens--i thought the pictures of raphael fine[ ]. 'the thuilleries.--statues.--venus.--aen. and anchises in his arms.--nilus.--many more. the walks not open to mean persons.--chairs at night hired for two sous apiece.--pont tournant[ ]. 'austin nuns.--grate.--mrs. fermor, abbess[ ].--she knew pope, and thought him disagreeable.--mrs. ------- has many books[ ];--has seen life.--their frontlet disagreeable.--their hood.--their life easy.--rise about five; hour and half in chapel.--dine at ten.--another hour and half at chapel; half an hour about three, and half an hour more at seven:--four hours in chapel.--a large garden.--thirteen pensioners[ ].--teacher complained. 'at the boulevards saw nothing, yet was glad to be there.--rope-dancing and farce.--egg dance. 'n. [note.] near paris, whether on week-days or sundays, the roads empty. 'oct. , tuesday. at the palais marchand i bought a snuff-box[ ], l. ------------- table book scissars p [pair] ---- -- [ ] 'we heard the lawyers plead.--n. as many killed at paris as there are days in the year. _chambre de question_[ ].--tournelle[ ] at the palais marchand.--an old venerable building. 'the palais bourbon, belonging to the prince of condé. only one small wing shown;--lofty;--splendid;--gold and glass.--the battles of the great condé are painted in one of the rooms. the present prince a grandsire at thirty-nine[ ]. 'the sight of palaces, and other great buildings, leaves no very distinct images, unless to those who talk of them. as i entered, my wife was in my mind[ ]: she would have been pleased. having now nobody to please, i am little pleased. 'n. in france there is no middle rank[ ]. 'so many shops open, that sunday is little distinguished at paris.--the palaces of louvre and thuilleries granted out in lodgings. 'in the _palais de bourbon_, gilt globes of metal at the fire-place. 'the french beds commended.--much of the marble, only paste. 'the colosseum a mere wooden building, at least much of it. 'oct. . wednesday. we went to fontainebleau, which we found a large mean town, crowded with people.--the forest thick with woods, very extensive.--manucci[ ] secured us lodgings.--the appearance of the country pleasant. no hills, few streams, only one hedge.--i remember no chapels nor crosses on the road.--pavement still, and rows of trees. 'n. nobody but mean people walk in paris[ ]. 'oct. . thursday. at court, we saw the apartments;--the king's bed-chamber and council-chamber extremely splendid--persons of all ranks in the external rooms through which the family passes:--servants and masters.--brunet with us the second time. 'the introductor came to us;--civil to me.--presenting.--i had scruples.--not necessary.--we went and saw the king[ ] and queen at dinner.--we saw the other ladies at dinner--madame elizabeth[ ], with the princess of guimené.--at night we went to a comedy. i neither saw nor heard.--drunken women.--mrs. th. preferred one to the other. 'oct. . friday. we saw the queen mount in the forest--brown habit; rode aside: one lady rode aside.--the queen's horse light grey; martingale.--she galloped.--we then went to the apartments, and admired them.--then wandered through the palace.--in the passages, stalls and shops.--painting in fresco by a great master, worn out.--we saw the king's horses and dogs.--the dogs almost all english.--degenerate. 'the horses not much commended.--the stables cool; the kennel filthy. 'at night the ladies went to the opera. i refused, but should have been welcome. 'the king fed himself with his left hand as we. 'saturday, . in the night i got ground.--we came home to paris.--i think we did not see the chapel.--tree broken by the wind.--the french chairs made all of boards painted. n. soldiers at the court of justice.--soldiers not amenable to the magistrates.--dijon woman[ ]. 'faggots in the palace.--every thing slovenly, except in the chief rooms.--trees in the roads, some tall, none old, many very young and small. 'women's saddles seem ill made.--queen's bridle woven with silver.--tags to strike the horse. 'sunday, oct. . to versailles[ ], a mean town. carriages of business passing.--mean shops against the wall.--our way lay through sêve, where the china manufacture.--wooden bridge at sêve, in the way to versailles.--the palace of great extent.--the front long; i saw it not perfectly.--the menagerie. cygnets dark; their black feet; on the ground; tame.--halcyons, or gulls.--stag and hind, young.--aviary, very large; the net, wire.--black stag of china, small.--rhinoceros, the horn broken and pared away, which, i suppose, will grow; the basis, i think, four inches 'cross; the skin folds like loose cloth doubled over his body, and cross his hips; a vast animal, though young; as big, perhaps, as four oxen.--the young elephant, with his tusks just appearing.--the brown bear put out his paws;--all very tame.--the lion.--the tigers i did not well view.--the camel, or dromedary with two bunches called the huguin[ ], taller than any horse.--two camels with one bunch.--among the birds was a pelican, who being let out, went to a fountain, and swam about to catch fish. his feet well webbed: he dipped his head, and turned his long bill sidewise. he caught two or three fish, but did not eat them. 'trianon is a kind of retreat appendant to versailles. it has an open portico; the pavement, and, i think, the pillars, of marble.--there are many rooms, which i do not distinctly remember--a table of porphyry, about five feet long, and between two and three broad, given to louis xiv. by the venetian state.--in the council-room almost all that was not door or window, was, i think, looking-glass.--little trianon is a small palace like a gentleman's house.--the upper floor paved with brick.--little vienne.--the court is ill paved.--the rooms at the top are small, fit to sooth the imagination with privacy. in the front of versailles are small basons of water on the terrace, and other basons, i think, below them. there are little courts.--the great gallery is wainscotted with mirrors, not very large, but joined by frames. i suppose the large plates were not yet made.--the play-house was very large.--the chapel i do not remember if we saw--we saw one chapel, but i am not certain whether there or at trianon.--the foreign office paved with bricks.--the dinner half a louis each, and, i think, a louis over.--money given at menagerie, three livres; at palace, six livres. 'oct. . monday. last night i wrote to levet.--we went to see the looking-glasses wrought. they come from normandy in cast plates, perhaps the third of an inch thick. at paris they are ground upon a marble table, by rubbing one plate upon another with grit between them. the various sands, of which there are said to be five, i could not learn. the handle, by which the upper glass is moved, has the form of a wheel, which may be moved in all directions. the plates are sent up with their surfaces ground, but not polished, and so continue till they are bespoken, lest time should spoil the surface, as we were told. those that are to be polished, are laid on a table, covered with several thick cloths, hard strained, that the resistance may be equal; they are then rubbed with a hand rubber, held down hard by a contrivance which i did not well understand. the powder which is used last seemed to me to be iron dissolved in aqua fortis: they called it, as baretti said, _marc de beau forte_, which he thought was dregs. they mentioned vitriol and salt-petre. the cannon ball swam in the quicksilver. to silver them, a leaf of beaten tin is laid, and rubbed with quicksilver, to which it unites. then more quicksilver is poured upon it, which, by its mutual [attraction] rises very high. then a paper is laid at the nearest end of the plate, over which the glass is slided till it lies upon the plate, having driven much of the quicksilver before it. it is then, i think, pressed upon cloths, and then set sloping to drop the superfluous mercury; the slope is daily heightened towards a perpendicular. 'in the way i saw the greve, the mayor's house, and the bastile.[ ] 'we then went to sans-terre, a brewer. he brews with about as much malt as mr. thrale, and sells his beer at the same price, though he pays no duty for malt, and little more than half as much for beer. beer is sold retail at d. a bottle. he brews , barrels a year. there are seventeen brewers in paris, of whom none is supposed to brew more than he:--reckoning them at , each, they make , a year.--they make their malt, for malting is here no trade. the moat of the bastile is dry. 'oct. , tuesday. we visited the king's library--i saw the _speculum humanae salvationis_, rudely printed, with ink, sometimes pale, sometimes black; part supposed to be with wooden types, and part with pages cut on boards.--the bible, supposed to be older than that of mentz, in [ ]: it has no date; it is supposed to have been printed with wooden types.--i am in doubt; the print is large and fair, in two folios.--another book was shown me, supposed to have been printed with wooden types;--i think, _durandi sanctuarium_[ ] in . this is inferred from the difference of form sometimes seen in the same letter, which might be struck with different puncheons.--the regular similitude of most letters proves better that they are metal.--i saw nothing but the _speculum_ which i had not seen, i think, before. 'thence to the sorbonne.--the library very large, not in lattices like the king's. _marbone_ and _durandi_, q. collection vol. _scriptores de rebus gallicis_, many folios.--_histoire généalogique of france_, vol.--_gallia christiana_, the first edition, to. the last, f. vol.--the prior and librarian dined [with us]:--i waited on them home.--their garden pretty, with covered walks, but small; yet may hold many students.--the doctors of the sorbonne are all equal:--choose those who succeed to vacancies.--profit little. 'oct. . wednesday. i went with the prior to st. cloud, to see dr. hooke.--we walked round the palace, and had some talk.--i dined with our whole company at the monastery.--in the library,_beroald_,--_cymon_,-- _titus_, from boccace.--_oratio proverbialis_ to the virgin, from petrarch; falkland to sandys; dryden's preface to the third vol. of miscellanies[ ]. 'oct. . thursday. we saw the china at sêve, cut, glazed, painted. bellevue, a pleasing house, not great: fine prospect.--meudon, an old palace.--alexander, in porphyry: hollow between eyes and nose, thin cheeks.--plato and aristotle--noble terrace overlooks the town.--st. cloud.--gallery not very high, nor grand, but pleasing.--in the rooms, michael angelo, drawn by himself, sir thomas more, des cartes, bochart, naudacus, mazarine.--gilded wainscot, so common that it is not minded.--gough and keene.--hooke came to us at the inn.--a message from drumgold. 'oct. . friday. i staid at home.--gough and keene, and mrs. s----'s friend dined with us.--this day we began to have a fire.--the weather is grown very cold, and i fear, has a bad effect upon my breath, which has grown much more free and easy in this country. 'sat. oct. . i visited the grand chartreux built by st. louis.--it is built for forty, but contains only twenty-four, and will not maintain more. the friar that spoke to us had a pretty apartment[ ].--mr. baretti says four rooms; i remember but three.--his books seemed to be french.--his garden was neat; he gave me grapes.--we saw the place de victoire, with the statues of the king, and the captive nations. we saw the palace and gardens of luxembourg, but the gallery was shut.--we climbed to the top stairs.--i dined with colbrooke, who had much company:--foote, sir george rodney, motteux, udson, taaf.--called on the prior, and found him in bed. 'hotel--a guinea a day.--coach, three guineas a week.--valet de place[ ], three l.[ ] a day.--_avantcoureur_, a guinea a week.-- ordinary dinner, six l. a head.--our ordinary seems to be about five guineas a day.--our extraordinary expences, as diversions, gratuities, clothes, i cannot reckon.--our travelling is ten guineas a day. 'white stockings, l.--wig.--hat. 'sunday, oct. . we saw the boarding-school.--the _enfans trouvés_ [ ].--a room with about eighty-six children in cradles, as sweet as a parlour.--they lose a third[ ]; take in to perhaps more than seven [years old]; put them to trades; pin to them the papers sent with them. --want nurses.--saw their chapel. 'went to st. eustatia; saw an innumerable company of girls catechised, in many bodies, perhaps to a catechist.--boys taught at one time, girls at another.--the sermon; the preacher wears a cap, which he takes off at the name:--his action uniform, not very violent. 'oct. . monday. we saw the library of st. germain[ ].--a very noble collection.--_codex divinorum officiorum_, :--a letter, square like that of the _offices_, perhaps the same.--the _codex_, by fust and gernsheym.--_meursius_, v. fol.--_amadis_, in french, v. fol.-- catholicon _sine colophone_, but of .--two other editions[ ], one by ... _augustin. de civitate dei_, without name, date, or place, but of fust's square letter as it seems. 'i dined with col. drumgold;--had a pleasing afternoon. 'some of the books of st. germain's stand in presses from the wall, like those at oxford. 'oct. . tuesday. i lived at the benedictines; meagre day; soup meagre, herrings, eels, both with sauce; fryed fish; lentils, tasteless in themselves. in the library; where i found _maffeus's de historiâ indicâ: promontorium flectere, to double the cape_. i parted very tenderly from the prior and friar wilkes[ ]. _maitre des arts_, y.--_bacc. theol_. y.--_licentiate_, y.--_doctor th_. y. in all years.--for the doctorate three disputations, _major, minor, sorbonica_.--several colleges suppressed, and transferred to that which was the jesuits' college. 'nov. . wednesday. we left paris.--st. denis, a large town; the church not very large, but the middle isle is very lofty and aweful.--on the left are chapels built beyond the line of the wall, which destroy the symmetry of the sides. the organ is higher above the pavement than any i have ever seen.--the gates are of brass.--on the middle gate is the history of our lord.--the painted windows are historical, and said to be eminently beautiful.--we were at another church belonging to a convent, of which the portal is a dome; we could not enter further, and it was almost dark. 'nov. . thursday. we came this day to chantilly, a seat belonging to the prince of condé.--this place is eminently beautified by all varieties of waters starting up in fountains, falling in cascades, running in streams, and spread in lakes.--the water seems to be too near the house.--all this water is brought from a source or river three leagues off, by an artificial canal, which for one league is carried under ground.--the house is magnificent.--the cabinet seems well stocked: what i remember was, the jaws of a hippopotamus, and a young hippopotamus preserved, which, however, is so small, that i doubt its reality.--it seems too hairy for an abortion, and too small for a mature birth.--nothing was in spirits; all was dry.--the dog, the deer; the ant-bear with long snout.--the toucan, long broad beak.--the stables were of very great length.--the kennel had no scents.--there was a mockery of a village.--the menagerie had few animals[ ]. for dr. blagden see _post_, in mr. langton's _collection_.--two faussans[ ], or brasilian weasels, spotted, very wild.--there is a forest, and, i think, a park.--i walked till i was very weary, and next morning felt my feet battered, and with pains in the toes. 'nov. . friday. we came to compiegne, a very large town, with a royal palace built round a pentagonal court.--the court is raised upon vaults, and has, i suppose, an entry on one side by a gentle rise.--talk of painting[ ],--the church is not very large, but very elegant and splendid.--i had at first great difficulty to walk, but motion grew continually easier.--at night we came to noyon, an episcopal city.--the cathedral is very beautiful, the pillars alternately gothick and corinthian.--we entered a very noble parochial church.--noyon is walled, and is said to be three miles round. 'nov. . saturday. we rose very early, and came through st. quintin to cambray, not long after three.--we went to an english nunnery, to give a letter to father welch, the confessor, who came to visit us in the evening. 'nov. . sunday. we saw the cathedral.--it is very beautiful, with chapels on each side. the choir splendid. the balustrade in one part brass.--the neff[ ] very high and grand.--the altar silver as far as it is seen.--the vestments very splendid.--at the benedictines church----' here his journal[ ] ends abruptly. whether he wrote any more after this time, i know not; but probably not much, as he arrived in england about the th of november. these short notes of his tour, though they may seem minute taken singly, make together a considerable mass of information, and exhibit such an ardour of enquiry and acuteness of examination, as, i believe, are found in but few travellers, especially at an advanced age. they completely refute the idle notion which has been propagated, _that he could not see_[ ]; and, if he had taken the trouble to revise and digest them, he undoubtedly could have expanded them into a very entertaining narrative. when i met him in london the following year, the account which he gave me of his french tour, was, 'sir, i have seen all the visibilities of paris, and around it; but to have formed an acquaintance with the people there, would have required more time than i could stay. i was just beginning to creep into acquaintance[ ] by means of colonel drumgold, a very high man, sir, head of _l'ecole militaire_, a most complete character, for he had first been a professor of rhetorick, and then became a soldier. and, sir, i was very kindly treated by the english benedictines, and have a cell appropriated to me in their convent.' he observed, 'the great in france live very magnificently, but the rest very miserably. there is no happy middle state as in england[ ]. the shops of paris are mean; the meat in the markets is such as would be sent to a gaol in england[ ]: and mr. thrale justly observed, that the cookery of the french was forced upon them by necessity; for they could not eat their meat, unless they added some taste to it. the french are an indelicate people; they will spit upon any place[ ]. at madame ----'s[ ], a literary lady of rank, the footman took the sugar in his fingers[ ], and threw it into my coffee. i was going to put it aside; but hearing it was made on purpose for me, i e'en tasted tom's fingers. the same lady would needs make tea _à l'angloise_. the spout of the tea-pot did not pour freely; she bad the footman blow into it[ ]. france is worse than scotland in every thing but climate. nature has done more for the french; but they have done less for themselves than the scotch have done.' it happened that foote was at paris at the same time with dr. johnson, and his description of my friend while there, was abundantly ludicrous. he told me, that the french were quite astonished at his figure and manner, and at his dress, which he obstinately continued exactly as in london[ ];--his brown clothes, black stockings, and plain shirt. he mentioned, that an irish gentleman said to johnson, 'sir, you have not seen the best french players.' johnson. 'players, sir! i look on them as no better than creatures set upon tables and joint-stools to make faces and produce laughter, like dancing dogs.'--'but, sir, you will allow that some players are better than others?' johnson. 'yes, sir, as some dogs dance better than others.' while johnson was in france, he was generally very resolute in speaking latin. it was a maxim with him that a man should not let himself down, by speaking a language which he speaks imperfectly. indeed, we must have often observed how inferiour, how much like a child a man appears, who speaks a broken tongue. when sir joshua reynolds, at one of the dinners of the royal academy, presented him to a frenchman of great distinction, he would not deign to speak french, but talked latin, though his excellency did not understand it, owing, perhaps, to johnson's english pronunciation[ ]: yet upon another occasion he was observed to speak french to a frenchman of high rank, who spoke english; and being asked the reason, with some expression of surprise,--he answered, 'because i think my french is as good as his english.' though johnson understood french perfectly, he could not speak it readily, as i have observed at his first interview with general paoli, in [ ]; yet he wrote it, i imagine, pretty well, as appears from some of his letters in mrs. piozzi's collection, of which i shall transcribe one:-- _a madame la comtesse de----_[ ]. 'july , [ ]. 'oui, _madame, le moment est arrivé, et il faut que je parte. mais pourquoi faut il partir? est ce que je m'ennuye? je m'ennuyerai ailleurs. est ce que je cherche ou quelque plaisir, ou quelque soulagement? je ne cherche rien, je n'espere rien. aller voir ce que jai vû, etre un peu rejoué, un peu degouté, me resouvenir que la vie se passe en vain, me plaindre de moi, m'endurcir aux dehors; void le tout de ce qu'on compte pour les delices de l'anneé. que dieu vous donne, madame, tous les agrémens de la vie, avec un esprit qui peut en jouir sans s'y livrer trop_.' here let me not forget a curious anecdote, as related to me by mr. beauclerk, which i shall endeavour to exhibit as well as i can in that gentleman's lively manner; and in justice to him it is proper to add, that dr. johnson told me i might rely both on the correctness of his memory, and the fidelity of his narrative. 'when madame de boufflers was first in england[ ], (said beauclerk,) she was desirous to see johnson. i accordingly went with her to his chambers in the temple, where she was entertained with his conversation for some time. when our visit was over, she and i left him, and were got into inner temple-lane, when all at once i heard a noise like thunder. this was occasioned by johnson, who it seems, upon a little recollection, had taken it into his head that he ought to have done the honours of his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality, and eager to shew himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the stair-case in violent agitation. he overtook us before we reached the temple-gate, and brushing in between me and madame de boufflers, seized her hand, and conducted her to her coach. his dress was a rusty brown morning suit, a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. a considerable crowd of people gathered round, and were not a little struck by this singular appearance.' he spoke latin with wonderful fluency and elegance. when pere boscovich[ ] was in england, johnson dined in company with him at sir joshua reynolds's, and at dr. douglas's, now bishop of salisbury. upon both occasions that celebrated foreigner expressed his astonishment at johnson's latin conversation. when at paris, johnson thus characterised voltaire to freron the journalist: '_vir est acerrimi ingenii et paucarum literarum!_' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, dec. , . 'my dear sir, 'mr. alexander maclean, the young laird of col, being to set out to-morrow for london, i give him this letter to introduce him to your acquaintance. the kindness which you and i experienced from his brother, whose unfortunate death we sincerely lament[ ], will make us always desirous to shew attention to any branch of the family. indeed, you have so much of the true highland cordiality, that i am sure you would have thought me to blame if i had neglected to recommend to you this hebridean prince, in whose island we were hospitably entertained. 'i ever am with respectful attachment, my dear sir, 'your most obliged 'and most humble servant, 'james boswell.' mr. maclean returned with the most agreeable accounts of the polite attention with which he was received by dr. johnson. in the course of this year dr. burney informs me that 'he very frequently met dr. johnson at mr. thrale's, at streatham, where they had many long conversations, often sitting up as long as the fire and candles lasted, and much longer than the patience of the servants subsisted[ ].' a few of johnson's sayings, which that gentleman recollects, shall here be inserted. 'i never take a nap after dinner but when i have had a bad night, and then the nap takes me.' 'the writer of an epitaph should not be considered as saying nothing but what is strictly true. allowance must be made for some degree of exaggerated praise. in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath[ ].' 'there is now less flogging in our great schools than formerly, but then less is learned there; so that what the boys get at one end they lose at the other[ ].' 'more is learned in publick than in private schools[ ], from emulation; there is the collision of mind with mind, or the radiation of many minds pointing to one centre. though few boys make their own exercises, yet if a good exercise is given up, out of a great number of boys, it is made by somebody.' 'i hate by-roads in education. education is as well known, and has long been as well known, as ever it can be[ ]. endeavouring to make children prematurely wise is useless labour. suppose they have more knowledge at five or six years old than other children, what use can be made of it? it will be lost before it is wanted, and the waste of so much time and labour of the teacher can never be repaid. too much is expected from precocity, and too little performed. miss----[ ] was an instance of early cultivation, but in what did it terminate? in marrying a little presbyterian parson, who keeps an infant boarding-school, so that all her employment now is, "to suckle fools, and chronicle small-beer[ ]." 'she tells the children, "this is a cat, and that is a dog, with four legs and a tail; see there! you are much better than a cat or a dog, for you can speak[ ]." if i had bestowed such an education on a daughter, and had discovered that she thought of marrying such a fellow, i would have sent her to the _congress_.' 'after having talked slightingly of musick, he was observed to listen very attentively while miss thrale played on the harpsichord, and with eagerness he called to her, "why don't you dash away like burney?" dr. burney upon this said to him, "i believe, sir, we shall make a musician of you at last." johnson with candid complacency replied, "sir, i shall be glad to have a new sense given to me[ ]."' 'he had come down one morning to the breakfast-room, and been a considerable time by himself before any body appeared. when, on a subsequent day, he was twitted by mrs. thrale for being very late, which he generally was, he defended himself by alluding to the extraordinary morning, when he had been too early. "madam, i do not like to come down to _vacuity_."' 'dr. burney having remarked that mr. garrick was beginning to look old, he said, "why, sir, you are not to wonder at that; no man's face has had more wear and tear[ ]."' not having heard from him for a longer time than i supposed he would be silent, i wrote to him december , not in good spirits:-- 'sometimes i have been afraid that the cold which has gone over europe this year like a sort of pestilence[ ] has seized you severely: sometimes my imagination, which is upon occasions prolifick of evil, hath figured that you may have somehow taken offence at some part of my conduct.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'never dream of any offence. how should you offend me? i consider your friendship as a possession, which i intend to hold till you take it from me, and to lament if ever by my fault i should lose it. however, when such suspicions find their way into your mind, always give them vent; i shall make haste to disperse them; but hinder their first ingress if you can. consider such thoughts as morbid. 'such illness as may excuse my omission to lord hailes, i cannot honestly plead. i have been hindered, i know not how, by a succession of petty obstructions. i hope to mend immediately, and to send next post to his lordship. mr. thrale would have written to you if i had omitted; he sends his compliments and wishes to see you. 'you and your lady will now have no more wrangling about feudal inheritance[ ]. how does the young laird of auchinleck? i suppose miss veronica is grown a reader and discourser. 'i have just now got a cough, but it has never yet hindered me from sleeping: i have had quieter nights than are common with me. 'i cannot but rejoice that joseph[ ] has had the wit to find the way back. he is a fine fellow, and one of the best travellers in the world. 'young col brought me your letter. he is a very pleasing youth. i took him two days ago to the mitre, and we dined together. i was as civil as i had the means of being. 'i have had a letter from rasay, acknowledging, with great appearance of satisfaction, the insertion in the edinburgh paper[ ]. i am very glad that it was done. 'my compliments to mrs. boswell, who does not love me; and of all the rest, i need only send them to those that do: and i am afraid it will give you very little trouble to distribute them. 'i am, my dear, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'december, , .' : �tat. --in , johnson wrote, so far as i can discover, nothing for the publick: but that his mind was still ardent, and fraught with generous wishes to attain to still higher degrees of literary excellence, is proved by his private notes of this year, which i shall insert in their proper place. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have at last sent you all lord hailes's papers. while i was in france, i looked very often into henault[ ]; but lord hailes, in my opinion, leaves him far and far behind. why i did not dispatch so short a perusal sooner, when i look back, i am utterly unable to discover: but human moments are stolen away by a thousand petty impediments which leave no trace behind them. i have been afflicted, through the whole christmas, with the general disorder, of which the worst effect was a cough, which is now much mitigated, though the country, on which i look from a window at streatham, is now covered with a deep snow. mrs. williams is very ill: every body else is as usual. 'among the papers, i found a letter to you, which i think you had not opened; and a paper for _the chronicle_, which i suppose it not necessary now to insert. i return them both. 'i have, within these few days, had the honour of receiving lord hailes's first volume, for which i return my most respectful thanks. 'i wish you, my dearest friend, and your haughty lady, (for i know she does not love me,) and the young ladies, and the young laird, all happiness. teach the young gentleman, in spite of his mamma, to think and speak well of, 'sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' at this time was in agitation a matter of great consequence to me and my family, which i should not obtrude upon the world, were it not that the part which dr. johnson's friendship for me made him take in it, was the occasion of an exertion of his abilities, which it would be injustice to conceal. that what he wrote upon the subject may be understood, it is necessary to give a state of the question, which i shall do as briefly as i can. in the year , the barony or manour of auchinleck, (pronounced _affleck_[ ],) in ayrshire, which belonged to a family of the same name with the lands, having fallen to the crown by forfeiture, james the fourth, king of scotland, granted it to thomas boswell, a branch of an ancient family in the county of fife, stiling him in the charter, _dilecto familiari nostro_; and assigning, as the cause of the grant, _pro bono et fideli servitio nobis praestito_. thomas boswell was slain in battle, fighting along with his sovereign, at the fatal field of flodden, in [ ]. from this very honourable founder of our family, the estate was transmitted, in a direct series of heirs male, to david boswell, my father's great grand uncle, who had no sons, but four daughters, who were all respectably married, the eldest to lord cathcart. david boswell, being resolute in the military feudal principle of continuing the male succession, passed by his daughters, and settled the estate on his nephew by his next brother, who approved of the deed, and renounced any pretensions which he might possibly have, in preference to his son. but the estate having been burthened with large portions to the daughters, and other debts, it was necessary for the nephew to sell a considerable part of it, and what remained was still much encumbered. the frugality of the nephew preserved, and, in some degree, relieved the estate. his son, my grandfather, an eminent lawyer, not only re-purchased a great part of what had been sold, but acquired other lands; and my father, who was one of the judges of scotland, and had added considerably to the estate, now signified his inclination to take the privilege allowed by our law[ ], to secure it to his family in perpetuity by an entail, which, on account of his marriage articles, could not be done without my consent. in the plan of entailing the estate, i heartily concurred with him, though i was the first to be restrained by it; but we unhappily differed as to the series of heirs which should be established, or in the language of our law, called to the succession. my father had declared a predilection for heirs general, that is, males and females indiscriminately. he was willing, however, that all males descending from his grandfather should be preferred to females; but would not extend that privilege to males deriving their descent from a higher source. i, on the other hand, had a zealous partiality for heirs male, however remote, which i maintained by arguments which appeared to me to have considerable weight[ ]. and in the particular case of our family, i apprehended that we were under an implied obligation, in honour and good faith, to transmit the estate by the same tenure which we held it, which was as heirs male, excluding nearer females. i therefore, as i thought conscientiously, objected to my father's scheme. my opposition was very displeasing to my father, who was entitled to great respect and deference; and i had reason to apprehend disagreeable consequences from my non-compliance with his wishes[ ]. after much perplexity and uneasiness, i wrote to dr. johnson, stating the case, with all its difficulties, at full length, and earnestly requesting that he would consider it at leisure, and favour me with his friendly opinion and advice. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i was much impressed by your letter, and if i can form upon your case any resolution satisfactory to myself, will very gladly impart it: but whether i am quite equal to it, i do not know. it is a case compounded of law and justice, and requires a mind versed in juridical disquisitions. could not you tell your whole mind to lord hailes? he is, you know, both a christian and a lawyer. i suppose he is above partiality, and above loquacity: and, i believe, he will not think the time lost in which he may quiet a disturbed, or settle a wavering mind. write to me, as any thing occurs to you; and if i find myself stopped by want of facts necessary to be known, i will make inquiries of you as my doubts arise. 'if your former resolutions should be found only fanciful, you decide rightly in judging that your father's fancies may claim the preference; but whether they are fanciful or rational, is the question. i really think lord hailes could help us. 'make my compliments to dear mrs. boswell; and tell her, that i hope to be wanting in nothing that i can contribute to bring you all out of your troubles. 'i am, dear sir, most affectionately, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, jan. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i am going to write upon a question which requires more knowledge of local law, and more acquaintance with the general rules of inheritance, than i can claim; but i write, because you request it. 'land is, like any other possession, by natural right wholly in the power of its present owner; and may be sold, given, or bequeathed, absolutely or conditionally, as judgment shall direct, or passion incite. 'but natural right would avail little without the protection of law; and the primary notion of law is restraint in the exercise of natural right. a man is therefore, in society, not fully master of what he calls his own, but he still retains all the power which law does not take from him. 'in the exercise of the right which law either leaves or gives, regard is to be paid to moral obligations. 'of the estate which we are now considering, your father still retains such possession, with such power over it, that he can sell it, and do with the money what he will, without any legal impediment. but when he extends his power beyond his own life, by settling the order of succession, the law makes your consent necessary. 'let us suppose that he sells the land to risk the money in some specious adventure, and in that adventure loses the whole; his posterity would be disappointed; but they could not think themselves injured or robbed. if he spent it upon vice or pleasure, his successors could only call him vicious and voluptuous; they could not say that he was injurious or unjust. 'he that may do more may do less. he that, by selling, or squandering, may disinherit a whole family, may certainly disinherit part, by a partial settlement. 'laws are formed by the manners and exigencies of particular times, and it is but accidental that they last longer than their causes: the limitation of feudal succession to the male arose from the obligation of the tenant to attend his chief in war. 'as times and opinions are always changing, i know not whether it be not usurpation to prescribe rules to posterity, by presuming to judge of what we cannot know: and i know not whether i fully approve either your design or your father's, to limit that succession which descended to you unlimited. if we are to leave _sartum tectum_[ ] to posterity, what we have without any merit of our own received from our ancestors, should not choice and free-will be kept unviolated? is land to be treated with more reverence than liberty?--if this consideration should restrain your father from disinheriting some of the males, does it leave you the power of disinheriting all the females? 'can the possessor of a feudal estate make any will? can he appoint, out of the inheritance, any portions to his daughters? there seems to be a very shadowy difference between the power of leaving land, and of leaving money to be raised from land; between leaving an estate to females, and leaving the male heir, in effect, only their steward. 'suppose at one time a law that allowed only males to inherit, and during the continuance of this law many estates to have descended, passing by the females, to remoter heirs. suppose afterwards the law repealed in correspondence with a change of manners, and women made capable of inheritance; would not then the tenure of estates be changed? could the women have no benefit from a law made in their favour? must they be passed by upon moral principles for ever, because they were once excluded by a legal prohibition? or may that which passed only to males by one law, pass likewise to females by another? 'you mention your resolution to maintain the right of your brothers[ ]: i do not see how any of their rights are invaded. 'as your whole difficulty arises from the act of your ancestor, who diverted the succession from the females, you enquire, very properly, what were his motives, and what was his intention; for you certainly are not bound by his act more than he intended to bind you, nor hold your land on harder or stricter terms than those on which it was granted. 'intentions must be gathered from acts. when he left the estate to his nephew, by excluding his daughters, was it, or was it not, in his power to have perpetuated the succession to the males? if he could have done it, he seems to have shown, by omitting it, that he did not desire it to be done; and, upon your own principles, you will not easily prove your right to destroy that capacity of succession which your ancestors have left. 'if your ancestor had not the power of making a perpetual settlement; and if, therefore, we cannot judge distinctly of his intentions, yet his act can only be considered as an example; it makes not an obligation. and, as you observe, he set no example of rigorous adherence to the line of succession. he that overlooked a brother, would not wonder that little regard is shown to remote relations. 'as the rules of succession are, in a great part, purely legal, no man can be supposed to bequeath any thing, but upon legal terms; he can grant no power which the law denies; and if he makes no special and definite limitation, he confers all the power which the law allows. 'your ancestor, for some reason, disinherited his daughters; but it no more follows that he intended this act as a rule for posterity, than the disinheriting of his brother. 'if, therefore, you ask by what right your father admits daughters to inheritance, ask yourself, first, by what right you require them to be excluded? 'it appears, upon reflection, that your father excludes nobody; he only admits nearer females to inherit before males more remote; and the exclusion is purely consequential. 'these, dear sir, are my thoughts, immethodical and deliberative; but, perhaps, you may find in them some glimmering of evidence. 'i cannot, however, but again recommend to you a conference with lord hailes, whom you know to be both a lawyer and a christian. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, though she does not love me. 'i am, sir, 'your affectionate servant, 'sam. johnson. 'feb. , ' i had followed his recommendation and consulted lord hailes, who upon this subject had a firm opinion contrary to mine. his lordship obligingly took the trouble to write me a letter, in which he discussed with legal and historical learning, the points in which i saw much difficulty, maintaining that 'the succession of heirs general was the succession, by the law of scotland, from the throne to the cottage, as far as we can learn it by record;'[ ] observing that the estate of our family had not been limited to heirs male; and that though an heir male had in one instance been chosen in preference to nearer females, that had been an arbitrary act, which had seemed to be best in the embarrassed state of affairs at that time; and the fact was, that upon a fair computation of the value of land and money at the time, applied to the estate and the burthens upon it, there was nothing given to the heir male but the skeleton of an estate. 'the plea of conscience (said his lordship,) which you put, is a most respectable one, especially when _conscience_ and _self_ are on different sides. but i think that conscience is not well informed, and that self and she ought on this occasion to be of a side.' this letter, which had considerable influence upon my mind, i sent to dr. johnson, begging to hear from him again, upon this interesting question. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'having not any acquaintance with the laws or customs of scotland, i endeavoured to consider your question upon general principles, and found nothing of much validity that i could oppose to this position: "he who inherits a fief unlimited by his ancestors, inherits the power of limiting it according to his own judgement or opinion." if this be true, you may join with your father. 'further consideration produces another conclusion: "he who receives a fief unlimited by his ancestors, gives his heirs some reason to complain, if he does not transmit it unlimited to posterity. for why should he make the state of others worse than his own, without a reason?" if this be true, though neither you nor your father are about to do what is quite right, but as your father violates (i think) the legal succession least, he seems to be nearer the right than yourself. 'it cannot but occur that "women have natural and equitable claims as well as men, and these claims are not to be capriciously or lightly superseded or infringed." when fiefs implied military service, it is easily discerned why females could not inherit them; but that reason is now at an end. as manners make laws, manners likewise repeal them. 'these are the general conclusions which i have attained. none of them are very favourable to your scheme of entail, nor perhaps to any scheme. my observation, that only he who acquires an estate may bequeath it capriciously[ ], if it contains any conviction, includes this position likewise, that only he who acquires an estate may entail it capriciously. but i think it may be safely presumed, that "he who inherits an estate, inherits all the power legally concomitant;" and that "he who gives or leaves unlimited an estate legally limitable, must be presumed to give that power of limitation which he omitted to take away, and to commit future contingencies to future prudence." in these two positions i believe lord hailes will advise you to rest; every other notion of possession seems to me full of difficulties and embarrassed with scruples. 'if these axioms be allowed, you have arrived now at full liberty without the help of particular circumstances, which, however, have in your case great weight. you very rightly observe, that he who passing by his brother gave the inheritance to his nephew, could limit no more than he gave; and by lord hailes's estimate of fourteen years' purchase, what he gave was no more than you may easily entail according to your own opinion, if that opinion should finally prevail. 'lord hailes's suspicion that entails are encroachments on the dominion of providence, may be extended to all hereditary privileges and all permanent institutions; i do not see why it may not be extended to any provision for the present hour, since all care about futurity proceeds upon a supposition, that we know at least in some degree what will be future. of the future we certainly know nothing; but we may form conjectures from the past; and the power of forming conjectures, includes, in my opinion, the duty of acting in conformity to that probability which we discover. providence gives the power, of which reason teaches the use. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most faithful servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. . .' 'i hope i shall get some ground now with mrs. boswell; make my compliments to her, and to the little people. 'don't burn papers; they may be safe enough in your own box,--you will wish to see them hereafter.' to the same. 'dear sir, 'to the letters which i have written about your great question i have nothing to add. if your conscience is satisfied, you have now only your prudence to consult. i long for a letter, that i may know how this troublesome and vexatious question is at last decided[ ]. i hope that it will at last end well. lord hailes's letter was very friendly, and very seasonable, but i think his aversion from entails has something in it like superstition. providence is not counteracted by any means which providence puts into our power. the continuance and propagation of families makes a great part of the jewish law, and is by no means prohibited in the christian institution, though the necessity of it continues no longer. hereditary tenures are established in all civilised countries, and are accompanied in most with hereditary authority. sir william temple considers our constitution as defective, that there is not an unalienable estate in land connected with a peerage[ ]; and lord bacon mentions as a proof that the turks are barbarians, their want of stirpes, as he calls them, or hereditary rank[ ]. do not let your mind, when it is freed from the supposed necessity of a rigorous entail, be entangled with contrary objections, and think all entails unlawful, till you have cogent arguments, which i believe you will never find. i am afraid of scruples[ ]. 'i have now sent all lord hailes's papers; part i found hidden in a drawer in which i had laid them for security, and had forgotten them. part of these are written twice: i have returned both the copies. part i had read before. 'be so kind as to return lord hailes my most respectful thanks for his first volume; his accuracy strikes me with wonder; his narrative is far superiour to that of henault, as i have formerly mentioned. 'i am afraid that the trouble, which my irregularity and delay has cost him, is greater, far greater, than any good that i can do him will ever recompense; but if i have any more copy, i will try to do better. 'pray let me know if mrs. boswell is friends with me, and pay my respects to veronica, and euphemia, and alexander. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'february, , [ ].' 'mr. boswell to dr. johnson. 'edinburgh, feb. , . * * * * * 'you have illuminated my mind and relieved me from imaginary shackles of conscientious obligation. were it necessary, i could immediately join in an entail upon the series of heirs approved by my father; but it is better not to act too suddenly.' 'dr. johnson to mr. boswell. 'dear sir, 'i am glad that what i could think or say has at all contributed to quiet your thoughts. your resolution not to act, till your opinion is confirmed by more deliberation, is very just. if you have been scrupulous, do not now be rash. i hope that as you think more, and take opportunities of talking with men intelligent in questions of property, you will be able to free yourself from every difficulty. 'when i wrote last, i sent, i think, ten packets. did you receive them all? 'you must tell mrs. boswell that i suspected her to have written without your knowledge[ ], and therefore did not return any answer, lest a clandestine correspondence should have been perniciously discovered. i will write to her soon. 'i am, dear sir, 'most affectionately yours, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' having communicated to lord hailes what dr. johnson wrote concerning the question which perplexed me so much, his lordship wrote to me: 'your scruples have produced more fruit than i ever expected from them; an excellent dissertation on general principles of morals and law.' i wrote to dr. johnson on the th of february, complaining of melancholy, and expressing a strong desire to be with him; informing him that the ten packets came all safe; that lord hailes was much obliged to him, and said he had almost wholly removed his scruples against entails. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have not had your letter half an hour; as you lay so much weight upon my notions, i should think it not just to delay my answer. 'i am very sorry that your melancholy should return, and should be sorry likewise if it could have no relief but from company. my counsel you may have when you are pleased to require it; but of my company you cannot in the next month have much, for mr. thrale will take me to italy, he says, on the first of april. 'let me warn you very earnestly against scruples. i am glad that you are reconciled to your settlement, and think it a great honour to have shaken lord hailes's opinion of entails. do not, however, hope wholly to reason away your troubles; do not feed them with attention, and they will die imperceptibly away. fix your thoughts upon your business, fill your intervals with company, and sunshine will again break in upon your mind[ ]. if you will come to me, you must come very quickly; and even then i know not but we may scour the country together, for i have a mind to see oxford and lichfield, before i set out on this long journey. to this i can only add, that 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'very early in april we leave england, and in the beginning of the next week i shall leave london for a short time; of this i think it necessary to inform you, that you may not be disappointed in any of your enterprises. i had not fully resolved to go into the country before this day. 'please to make my compliments to lord hailes; and mention very particularly to mrs. boswell my hope that she is reconciled to, sir, 'your faithful servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' above thirty years ago, the heirs of lord chancellor clarendon presented the university of oxford with the continuation of his _history_, and such other of his lordship's manuscripts as had not been published, on condition that the profits arising from their publication should be applied to the establishment of a _manège_ in the university. the gift was accepted in full convocation. a person being now recommended to dr. johnson, as fit to superintend this proposed riding-school, he exerted himself with that zeal for which he was remarkable upon every similar occasion[ ]. but, on enquiry into the matter, he found that the scheme was not likely to be soon carried into execution; the profits arising from the clarendon press being, from some mismanagement, very scanty. this having been explained to him by a respectable dignitary of the church, who had good means of knowing it, he wrote a letter upon the subject, which at once exhibits his extraordinary precision and acuteness, and his warm attachment to his alma mater. 'to the reverend dr. wetherell, master of university-college, oxford. 'dear sir, 'few things are more unpleasant than the transaction of business with men who are above knowing or caring what they have to do; such as the trustees for lord cornbury's institution will, perhaps, appear, when you have read dr. ----'s letter. 'the last part of the doctor's letter is of great importance. the complaint[ ] which he makes i have heard long ago, and did not know but it was redressed. it is unhappy that a practice so erroneous has not yet been altered; for altered it must be, or our press will be useless, with all its privileges. the booksellers, who, like all other men, have strong prejudices in their own favour, are enough inclined to think the practice of printing and selling books by any but themselves, an encroachment on the rights of their fraternity; and have need of stronger inducements to circulate academical publications than those of one another; for, of that mutual co-operation by which the general trade is carried on, the university can bear no part. of those whom he neither loves nor fears, and from whom he expects no reciprocation of good offices, why should any man promote the interest but for profit? i suppose, with all our scholastick ignorance of mankind, we are still too knowing to expect that the booksellers will erect themselves into patrons, and buy and sell under the influence of a disinterested zeal for the promotion of learning. 'to the booksellers, if we look for either honour or profit from our press, not only their common profit, but something more must be allowed; and if books, printed at oxford, are expected to be rated at a high price, that price must be levied on the publick, and paid by the ultimate purchaser, not by the intermediate agents. what price shall be set upon the book, is, to the booksellers, wholly indifferent, provided that they gain a proportionate profit by negociating the sale. 'why books printed at oxford should be particularly dear, i am, however, unable to find. we pay no rent; we inherit many of our instruments and materials; lodging and victuals are cheaper than at london; and, therefore, workmanship ought, at least, not to be dearer. our expences are naturally less than those of booksellers; and, in most cases, communities are content with less profit than individuals. 'it is, perhaps, not considered through how many hands a book often passes, before it comes into those of the reader; or what part of the profit each hand must retain, as a motive for transmitting it to the next. 'we will call our primary agent in london, mr. cadell[ ], who receives our books from us, gives them room in his warehouse, and issues them on demand; by him they are sold to mr. dilly a wholesale bookseller, who sends them into the country; and the last seller is the country bookseller. here are three profits to be paid between the printer and the reader, or in the style of commerce, between the manufacturer and the consumer; and if any of these profits is too penuriously distributed, the process of commerce is interrupted. 'we are now come to the practical question, what is to be done? you will tell me, with reason, that i have said nothing, till i declare how much, according to my opinion, of the ultimate price ought to be distributed through the whole succession of sale. 'the deduction, i am afraid, will appear very great: but let it be considered before it is refused. we must allow, for profit, between thirty and thirty-five _per cent_., between six and seven shillings in the pound; that is, for every book which costs the last buyer twenty shillings, we must charge mr. cadell with something less than fourteen. we must set the copies at fourteen shillings each, and superadd what is called the quarterly-book, or for every hundred books so charged we must deliver an hundred and four. 'the profits will then stand thus:-- 'mr. cadell, who runs no hazard, and gives no credit, will be paid for warehouse room and attendance by a shilling profit on each book, and his chance of the quarterly-book. 'mr. dilly, who buys the book for fifteen shillings, and who will expect the quarterly-book if he takes five and twenty, will send it to his country customer at sixteen and six, by which, at the hazard of loss, and the certainty of long credit, he gains the regular profit of ten _per cent_, which is expected in the wholesale trade. 'the country bookseller, buying at sixteen and sixpence, and commonly trusting a considerable time, gains but three and sixpence, and if he trusts a year, not much more than two and sixpence; otherwise than as he may, perhaps, take as long credit as he gives. 'with less profit than this, and more you see he cannot have, the country bookseller cannot live; for his receipts are small, and his debts sometimes bad. 'thus, dear sir, i have been incited by dr. ----'s letter to give you a detail of the circulation of books, which, perhaps, every man has not had opportunity of knowing; and which those who know it, do not, perhaps, always distinctly consider. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'march , .' having arrived in london late on friday, the th of march, i hastened next morning to wait on dr. johnson, at his house; but found he was removed from johnson's-court, no. , to boltcourt, no. [ ], still keeping to his favourite fleet-street. my reflection at the time upon this change as marked in my journal, is as follows: 'i felt a foolish regret that he had left a court which bore his name[ ]; but it was not foolish to be affected with some tenderness of regard for a place in which i had seen him a great deal, from whence i had often issued a better and a happier man than when i went in, and which had often appeared to my imagination while i trod its pavements, in the solemn darkness of the night, to be sacred to wisdom and piety[ ].' being informed that he was at mr. thrale's, in the borough, i hastened thither, and found mrs. thrale and him at breakfast. i was kindly welcomed. in a moment he was in a full glow of conversation, and i felt myself elevated as if brought into another state of being. mrs. thrale and i looked to each other while he talked, and our looks expressed our congenial admiration and affection for him. i shall ever recollect this scene with great pleasure. i exclaimed to her, 'i am now, intellectually, _hermippus redivivus_, i am quite restored by him, by transfusion of mind[ ]!' 'there are many (she replied) who admire and respect mr. johnson; but you and i _love_ him.' he seemed very happy in the near prospect of going to italy with mr. and mrs. thrale. 'but, (said he,) before leaving england i am to take a jaunt to oxford, birmingham, my native city lichfield, and my old friend, dr. taylor's, at ashbourn, in derbyshire. i shall go in a few days, and you, boswell, shall go with me.' i was ready to accompany him; being willing even to leave london to have the pleasure of his conversation. i mentioned with much regret the extravagance of the representative of a great family in scotland, by which there was danger of its being ruined; and as johnson respected it for its antiquity, he joined with me in thinking it would be happy if this person should die. mrs. thrale seemed shocked at this, as feudal barbarity; and said, 'i do not understand this preference of the estate to its owner; of the land to the man who walks upon that land.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it is not a preference of the land to its owner, it is the preference of a family to an individual. here is an establishment in a country, which is of importance for ages, not only to the chief but to his people; an establishment which extends upwards and downwards; that this should be destroyed by one idle fellow is a sad thing.' he said, 'entails[ ] are good, because it is good to preserve in a country, serieses of men, to whom the people are accustomed to look up as to their leaders. but i am for leaving a quantity of land in commerce, to excite industry, and keep money in the country; for if no land were to be bought in the country, there would be no encouragement to acquire wealth, because a family could not be founded there; or if it were acquired, it must be carried away to another country where land may be bought. and although the land in every country will remain the same, and be as fertile where there is no money, as where there is, yet all that portion of the happiness of civil life, which is produced by money circulating in a country, would be lost.' boswell. 'then, sir, would it be for the advantage of a country that all its lands were sold at once?' johnson. 'so far, sir, as money produces good, it would be an advantage; for, then that country would have as much money circulating in it as it is worth. but to be sure this would be counterbalanced by disadvantages attending a total change of proprietors.' i expressed my opinion that the power of entailing should be limited thus: 'that there should be one third, or perhaps one half of the land of a country kept free for commerce; that the proportion allowed to be entailed, should be parcelled out so that no family could entail above a certain quantity. let a family according to the abilities of its representatives, be richer or poorer in different generations, or always rich if its representatives be always wise: but let its absolute permanency be moderate. in this way we should be certain of there being always a number of established roots; and as in the course of nature, there is in every age an extinction of some families, there would be continual openings for men ambitious of perpetuity, to plant a stock in the entail ground[ ].' johnson. 'why, sir, mankind will be better able to regulate the system of entails, when the evil of too much land being locked up by them is felt, than we can do at present when it is not felt.' i mentioned dr. adam smith's book on _the wealth of nations_[ ] which was just published, and that sir john pringle had observed to me, that dr. smith, who had never been in trade, could not be expected to write well on that subject any more than a lawyer upon physick. johnson. 'he is mistaken, sir: a man who has never been engaged in trade himself may undoubtedly write well upon trade, and there is nothing which requires more to be illustrated by philosophy than trade does. as to mere wealth, that is to say, money, it is clear that one nation or one individual cannot increase its store but by making another poorer: but trade procures what is more valuable, the reciprocation of the peculiar advantages of different countries. a merchant seldom thinks but of his own particular trade. to write a good book upon it, a man must have extensive views. it is not necessary to have practised, to write well upon a subject.' i mentioned law as a subject on which no man could write well without practice. johnson. 'why, sir, in england, where so much money is to be got by the practice of the law, most of our writers upon it have been in practice; though blackstone had not been much in practice when he published his _commentaries_. but upon the continent, the great writers on law have not all been in practice: grotius, indeed, was; but puffendorf was not, burlamaqui was not.' when we had talked of the great consequence which a man acquired by being employed in his profession, i suggested a doubt of the justice of the general opinion, that it is improper in a lawyer to solicit employment; for why, i urged, should it not be equally allowable to solicit that as the means of consequence, as it is to solicit votes to be elected a member of parliament? mr. strahan had told me that a countryman of his and mine[ ], who had risen to eminence in the law, had, when first making his way, solicited him to get him employed in city causes. johnson. 'sir, it is wrong to stir up law-suits; but when once it is certain that a law-suit is to go on, there is nothing wrong in a lawyer's endeavouring that he shall have the benefit, rather than another.' boswell. 'you would not solicit employment, sir, if you were a lawyer.' johnson. 'no, sir, but not because i should think it wrong, but because i should disdain it.' this was a good distinction, which will be felt by men of just pride. he proceeded: 'however, i would not have a lawyer to be wanting to himself in using fair means. i would have him to inject a little hint now and then, to prevent his being overlooked.' lord mountstuart's bill for a scotch militia[ ], in supporting which his lordship had made an able speech in the house of commons, was now a pretty general topick of conversation. johnson. 'as scotland contributes so little land-tax[ ] towards the general support of the nation, it ought not to have a militia paid out of the general fund, unless it should be thought for the general interest, that scotland should be protected from an invasion, which no man can think will happen; for what enemy would invade scotland, where there is nothing to be got? no, sir; now that the scotch have not the pay of english soldiers spent among them, as so many troops are sent abroad, they are trying to get money another way, by having a militia paid. if they are afraid, and seriously desire to have an armed force to defend them, they should pay for it. your scheme is to retain a part of your land-tax, by making us pay and clothe your militia.' boswell. 'you should not talk of _we_ and _you_, sir: there is now an _union_.' johnson. 'there must be a distinction of interest, while the proportions of land-tax are so unequal. if yorkshire should say, "instead of paying our land-tax, we will keep a greater number of militia," it would be unreasonable.' in this argument my friend was certainly in the wrong. the land-tax is as unequally proportioned between different parts of england, as between england and scotland; nay, it is considerably unequal in scotland itself. but the land-tax is but a small part of the numerous branches of publick revenue, all of which scotland pays precisely as england does. a french invasion made in scotland would soon penetrate into england. he thus discoursed upon supposed obligation in settling estates:--'where a man gets the unlimited property of an estate, there is no obligation upon him in _justice_ to leave it to one person rather than to another. there is a motive of preference from _kindness_, and this kindness is generally entertained for the nearest relation. if i _owe_ a particular man a sum of money, i am obliged to let that man have the next money i get, and cannot in justice let another have it: but if i owe money to no man, i may dispose of what i get as i please. there is not a _debitum justitice_ to a man's next heir; there is only a _debitum caritatis_. it is plain, then, that i have morally a choice, according to my liking. if i have a brother in want, he has a claim from affection to my assistance; but if i have also a brother in want, whom i like better, he has a preferable claim. the right of an heir at law is only this, that he is to have the succession to an estate, in case no other person is appointed to it by the owner. his right is merely preferable to that of the king.' we got into a boat to cross over to black-friars; and as we moved along the thames, i talked to him of a little volume, which, altogether unknown to him, was advertised to be published in a few days, under the title of _johnsoniana, or bon-mots of dr. johnson_[ ]. johnson, 'sir, it is a mighty impudent thing.' boswell. 'pray, sir, could you have no redress if you were to prosecute a publisher for bringing out, under your name, what you never said, and ascribing to you dull stupid nonsense, or making you swear profanely, as many ignorant relaters of your _bon-mots_ do[ ]?' johnson. 'no, sir; there will always be some truth mixed with the falsehood, and how can it be ascertained how much is true and how much is false? besides, sir, what damages would a jury give me for having been represented as swearing?' boswell. 'i think, sir, you should at least disavow such a publication, because the world and posterity might with much plausible foundation say, "here is a volume which was publickly advertised and came out in dr. johnson's own time, and, by his silence, was admitted by him to be genuine."' johnson. 'i shall give myself no trouble about the matter.' he was, perhaps, above suffering from such spurious publications; but i could not help thinking, that many men would be much injured in their reputation, by having absurd and vicious sayings imputed to them; and that redress ought in such cases to be given. he said, 'the value of every story depends on its being true. a story is a picture either of an individual or of human nature in general: if it be false, it is a picture of nothing. for instance: suppose a man should tell that johnson, before setting out for italy, as he had to cross the alps, sat down to make himself wings. this many people would believe; but it would be a picture of nothing. ----[ ] (naming a worthy friend of ours,) used to think a story, a story, till i shewed him that truth was essential to it[ ].' i observed, that foote entertained us with stories which were not true; but that, indeed, it was properly not as narratives that foote's stories pleased us, but as collections of ludicrous images. johnson. 'foote is quite impartial, for he tells lies of every body.' the importance of strict and scrupulous veracity cannot be too often inculcated. johnson was known to be so rigidly attentive to it, that even in his common conversation the slightest circumstance was mentioned with exact precision[ ]. the knowledge of his having such a principle and habit made his friends have a perfect reliance on the truth of every thing that he told, however it might have been doubted if told by many others. as an instance of this, i may mention an odd incident which he related as having happened to him one night in fleet-street. 'a gentlewoman (said he) begged i would give her my arm to assist her in crossing the street, which i accordingly did; upon which she offered me a shilling, supposing me to be the watchman. i perceived that she was somewhat in liquor.' this, if told by most people, would have been thought an invention; when told by johnson, it was believed by his friends as much as if they had seen what passed. we landed at the temple-stairs, where we parted. i found him in the evening in mrs. williams's room. we talked of religious orders. he said, 'it is as unreasonable for a man to go into a carthusian convent for fear of being immoral, as for a man to cut off his hands for fear he should steal. there is, indeed, great resolution in the immediate act of dismembering himself; but when that is once done, he has no longer any merit: for though it is out of his power to steal, yet he may all his life be a thief in his heart. so when a man has once become a carthusian, he is obliged to continue so, whether he chooses it or not. their silence, too, is absurd. we read in the gospel of the apostles being sent to preach, but not to hold their tongues. all severity that does not tend to increase good, or prevent evil, is idle. i said to the lady abbess[ ] of a convent, "madam, you are here, not for the love of virtue, but the fear of vice." she said, "she should remember this as long as she lived."' i thought it hard to give her this view of her situation, when she could not help it; and, indeed, i wondered at the whole of what he now said; because, both in his _rambler_[ ] and _idler_[ ], he treats religious austerities with much solemnity of respect[ ]. finding him still persevering in his abstinence from wine, i ventured to speak to him of it.--johnson. 'sir, i have no objection to a man's drinking wine, if he can do it in moderation. i found myself apt to go to excess in it, and therefore, after having been for some time without it, on account of illness, i thought it better not to return to it[ ]. every man is to judge for himself, according to the effects which he experiences. one of the fathers tells us, he found fasting made him so peevish[ ] that he did not practise it.' though he often enlarged upon the evil of intoxication[ ], he was by no means harsh and unforgiving to those who indulged in occasional excess in wine. one of his friends[ ], i well remember, came to sup at a tavern with him and some other gentlemen, and too plainly discovered that he had drunk too much at dinner. when one who loved mischief, thinking to produce a severe censure, asked johnson, a few days afterwards, 'well, sir, what did your friend say to you, as an apology for being in such a situation?' johnson answered, 'sir, he said all that a man _should_ say: he said he was sorry for it.' i heard him once give a very judicious practical advice upon this subject: 'a man, who has been drinking wine at all freely, should never go into a new company. with those who have partaken of wine with him, he may be pretty well in unison; but he will probably be offensive, or appear ridiculous, to other people.' he allowed very great influence to education. 'i do not deny, sir, but there is some original difference in minds; but it is nothing in comparison of what is formed by education. we may instance the science of _numbers_, which all minds are equally capable of attaining[ ]; yet we find a prodigious difference in the powers of different men, in that respect, after they are grown up, because their minds have been more or less exercised in it: and i think the same cause will explain the difference of excellence in other things, gradations admitting always some difference in the first principles[ ].' this is a difficult subject; but it is best to hope that diligence may do a great deal. we are _sure_ of what it can do, in increasing our mechanical force and dexterity. i again visited him on monday. he took occasion to enlarge, as he often did, upon the wretchedness of a sea-life[ ]. 'a ship is worse than a gaol. there is, in a gaol, better air, better company, better conveniency of every kind; and a ship has the additional disadvantage of being in danger. when men come to like a sea-life, they are not fit to live on land[ ].'--'then (said i) it would be cruel in a father to breed his son to the sea.' johnson. 'it would be cruel in a father who thinks as i do. men go to sea, before they know the unhappiness of that way of life; and when they have come to know it, they cannot escape from it, because it is then too late to choose another profession; as indeed is generally the case with men, when they have once engaged in any particular way of life.' on tuesday, march , which was fixed for our proposed jaunt, we met in the morning at the somerset coffee-house in the strand, where we were taken up by the oxford coach. he was accompanied by mr. gwyn[ ], the architect; and a gentleman of merton college, whom we did not know, had the fourth seat. we soon got into conversation; for it was very remarkable of johnson, that the presence of a stranger had no restraint upon his talk. i observed that garrick, who was about to quit the stage, would soon have an easier life. johnson. 'i doubt that, sir.' boswell. 'why, sir, he will be atlas with the burthen off his back.' johnson. 'but i know not, sir, if he will be so steady without his load. however, he should never play any more, but be entirely the gentleman, and not partly the player: he should no longer subject himself to be hissed by a mob, or to be insolently treated by performers, whom he used to rule with a high hand, and who would gladly retaliate.' boswell. 'i think he should play once a year for the benefit of decayed actors, as it has been said he means to do.' johnson. 'alas, sir! he will soon be a decayed actor himself.' johnson expressed his disapprobation of ornamental architecture, such as magnificent columns supporting a portico, or expensive pilasters supporting merely their own capitals, 'because it consumes labour disproportionate to its utility.' for the same reason he satyrised statuary. 'painting (said he) consumes labour not disproportionate to its effect; but a fellow will hack half a year at a block of marble to make something in stone that hardly resembles a man. the value of statuary is owing to its difficulty. you would not value the finest head cut upon a carrot[ ].' here he seemed to me to be strangely deficient in taste; for surely statuary is a noble art of imitation, and preserves a wonderful expression of the varieties of the human frame; and although it must be allowed that the circumstances of difficulty enhance the value of a marble head, we should consider, that if it requires a long time in the performance, it has a proportionate value in durability. gwyn was a fine lively rattling fellow. dr. johnson kept him in subjection, but with a kindly authority. the spirit of the artist, however, rose against what he thought a gothick attack, and he made a brisk defence. 'what, sir, will you allow no value to beauty in architecture or in statuary? why should we allow it then in writing? why do you take the trouble to give us so many fine allusions, and bright images, and elegant phrases? you might convey all your instruction without these ornaments.' johnson smiled with complacency; but said, 'why, sir, all these ornaments are useful, because they obtain an easier reception for truth; but a building is not at all more convenient for being decorated with superfluous carved work.' gwyn at last was lucky enough to make one reply to dr. johnson, which he allowed to be excellent. johnson censured him for taking down a church which might have stood many years, and building a new one at a different place, for no other reason but that there might be a direct road to a new bridge; and his expression was, 'you are taking a church out of the way, that the people may go in a straight line to the bridge.'--'no, sir, (said gwyn,) i am putting the church _in_ the way, that the people may not _go out of the way_.' johnson, (with a hearty loud laugh of approbation,) 'speak no more. rest your colloquial fame upon this.' upon our arrival at oxford, dr. johnson and i went directly to university college, but were disappointed on finding that one of the fellows, his friend mr. scott[ ], who accompanied him from newcastle to edinburgh, was gone to the country. we put up at the angel inn, and passed the evening by ourselves in easy and familiar conversation. talking of constitutional melancholy, he observed, 'a man so afflicted, sir, must divert distressing thoughts, and not combat with them.' boswell. 'may not he think them down, sir?' johnson. 'no, sir. to attempt to _think them down_ is madness. he should have a lamp constantly burning in his bed-chamber during the night, and if wakefully disturbed, take a book, and read, and compose himself to rest. to have the management of the mind is a great art, and it may be attained in a considerable degree by experience and habitual exercise.' boswell. 'should not he provide amusements for himself? would it not, for instance, be right for him to take a course of chymistry?' johnson. 'let him take a course of chymistry, or a course of rope-dancing, or a course of any thing to which he is inclined at the time. let him contrive to have as many retreats for his mind as he can, as many things to which it can fly from itself[ ]. burton's _anatomy of melancholy_[ ] is a valuable work. it is, perhaps, overloaded with quotation. but there is great spirit and great power in what burton says, when he writes from his own mind.' next morning we visited dr. wetherell, master of university college, with whom dr. johnson conferred on the most advantageous mode of disposing of the books printed at the clarendon press, on which subject his letter has been inserted in a former page[ ]. i often had occasion to remark, johnson loved business[ ], loved to have his wisdom actually operate on real life. dr. wetherell and i talked of him without reserve in his own presence. wetherell. 'i would have given him a hundred guineas if he would have written a preface to his _political tracts_[ ], by way of a discourse on the british constitution.' boswell. 'dr. johnson, though in his writings, and upon all occasions a great friend to the constitution both in church and state, has never written expressly in support of either. there is really a claim upon him for both. i am sure he could give a volume of no great bulk upon each, which would comprise all the substance, and with his spirit would effectually maintain them. he should erect a fort on the confines of each.' i could perceive that he was displeased with this dialogue. he burst out, 'why should _i_ be always writing[ ]?' i hoped he was conscious that the debt was just, and meant to discharge it, though he disliked being dunned. we then went to pembroke college, and waited on his old friend dr. adams, the master of it, whom i found to be a most polite, pleasing, communicative man. before his advancement to the headship of his college, i had intended to go and visit him at shrewsbury, where he was rector of st. chad's, in order to get from him what particulars he could recollect of johnson's academical life. he now obligingly gave me part of that authentick information, which, with what i afterwards owed to his kindness, will be found incorporated in its proper place in this work. dr. adams had distinguished himself by an able answer to david hume's _essay on miracles_. he told me he had once dined in company with hume in london[ ]; that hume shook hands with him, and said, 'you have treated me much better than i deserve;' and that they exchanged visits. i took the liberty to object to treating an infidel writer with smooth civility. where there is a controversy concerning a passage in a classick authour, or concerning a question in antiquities, or any other subject in which human happiness is not deeply interested, a man may treat his antagonist with politeness and even respect. but where the controversy is concerning the truth of religion, it is of such vast importance to him who maintains it, to obtain the victory, that the person of an opponent ought not to be spared. if a man firmly believes that religion is an invaluable treasure[ ], he will consider a writer who endeavours to deprive mankind of it as a _robber_; he will look upon him as _odious_, though the infidel might think himself in the right. a robber who reasons as the gang do in the _beggar's opera_, who call themselves _practical_ philosophers[ ], and may have as much sincerity as pernicious _speculative_ philosophers, is not the less an object of just indignation. an abandoned profligate may think that it is not wrong to debauch my wife, but shall i, therefore, not detest him? and if i catch him in making an attempt, shall i treat him with politeness? no, i will kick him down stairs, or run him through the body; that is, if i really love my wife, or have a true rational notion of honour. an infidel then shall not be treated handsomely by a christian, merely because he endeavours to rob with ingenuity. i do declare, however, that i am exceedingly unwilling to be provoked to anger, and could i be persuaded that truth would not suffer from a cool moderation in its defenders, i should wish to preserve good humour, at least, in every controversy; nor, indeed, do i see why a man should lose his temper while he does all he can to refute an opponent. i think ridicule may be fairly used against an infidel; for instance, if he be an ugly fellow, and yet absurdly vain of his person[ ], we may contrast his appearance with cicero's beautiful image of virtue, could she be seen[ ]. johnson coincided with me and said, 'when a man voluntarily engages in an important controversy, he is to do all he can to lessen his antagonist, because authority from personal respect has much weight with most people, and often more than reasoning[ ]. if my antagonist writes bad language, though that may not be essential to the question, i will attack him for his bad language.' adams. 'you would not jostle a chimney-sweeper.' johnson. 'yes, sir, if it were necessary to jostle him _down_.' dr. adams told us, that in some of the colleges at oxford, the fellows had excluded the students from social intercourse with them in the common room[ ]. johnson. 'they are in the right, sir: there can be no real conversation, no fair exertion of mind amongst them, if the young men are by; for a man who has a character does not choose to stake it in their presence.' boswell. 'but, sir, may there not be very good conversation without a contest for superiority?' johnson. 'no animated conversation, sir, for it cannot be but one or other will come off superiour. i do not mean that the victor must have the better of the argument, for he may take the weak side; but his superiority of parts and knowledge will necessarily appear: and he to whom he thus shews himself superiour is lessened in the eyes of the young men[ ]. you know it was said, "_mallem cum scaligero errare quam cum clavio recte sapere_[ ]." in the same manner take bentley's and jason de nores' comments upon horace, you will admire bentley more when wrong, than jason when right.' we walked with dr. adams into the master's garden, and into the common room. johnson, (after a reverie of meditation,) 'ay! here i used to play at draughts with phil. jones[ ] and fludyer. jones loved beer, and did not get very forward in the church. fludyer turned out a scoundrel[ ], a whig, and said he was ashamed of having been bred at oxford. he had a living at putney, and got under the eye of some retainers to the court at that time, and so became a violent whig: but he had been a scoundrel all along to be sure.' boswell. 'was he a scoundrel, sir, in any other way than that of being a political scoundrel? did he cheat at draughts?' johnson. 'sir, we never played for _money_.' he then carried me to visit dr. bentham, canon of christ-church, and divinity professor, with whose learned and lively conversation we were much pleased. he gave us an invitation to dinner, which dr. johnson told me was a high honour. 'sir, it is a great thing to dine with the canons of christ-church.' we could not accept his invitation, as we were engaged to dine at university college. we had an excellent dinner there, with the master and fellows, it being st. cuthbert's day, which is kept by them as a festival, as he was a saint of durham, with which this college is much connected[ ]. we drank tea with dr. home[ ], late president of magdalen college, and bishop of norwich, of whose abilities, in different respects, the publick has had eminent proofs, and the esteem annexed to whose character was increased by knowing him personally. he had talked of publishing an edition of walton's _lives_[ ], but had laid aside that design, upon dr. johnson's telling him, from mistake, that lord hailes intended to do it. i had wished to negociate between lord hailes and him, that one or other should perform so good a work. johnson. 'in order to do it well, it will be necessary to collect all the editions of walton's _lives_. by way of adapting the book to the taste of the present age, they have, in a later edition, left out a vision which he relates dr. donne had[ ], but it should be restored; and there should be a critical catalogue given of the works of the different persons whose lives were written by walton, and therefore their works must be carefully read by the editor.' we then went to trinity college, where he introduced me to mr. thomas warton, with whom we passed a part of the evening. we talked of biography.--johnson. 'it is rarely well executed[ ]. they only who live with a man can write his life with any genuine exactness and discrimination; and few people who have lived with a man know what to remark about him. the chaplain of a late bishop[ ], whom i was to assist in writing some memoirs of his lordship, could tell me scarcely any thing[ ].' i said, mr. robert dodsley's life should be written, as he had been so much connected with the wits of his time[ ], and by his literary merit had raised himself from the station of a footman. mr. warton said, he had published a little volume under the title of _the muse in livery_ [ ]. johnson. 'i doubt whether dodsley's brother[ ] would thank a man who should write his life: yet dodsley himself was not unwilling that his original low condition should be recollected. when lord lyttelton's _dialogues of the dead_ came out, one of which is between apicius, an ancient epicure, and dartineuf, a modern epicure, dodsley said to me, "i knew dartineuf well, for i was once his footman[ ]."' biography led us to speak of dr. john campbell[ ], who had written a considerable part of the _biographia britannica_. johnson, though he valued him highly, was of opinion that there was not so much in his great work, _a political survey of great britain_, as the world had been taught to expect[ ]; and had said to me, that he believed campbell's disappointment, on account of the bad success of that work, had killed him. he this evening observed of it, 'that work was his death.' mr. warton, not adverting to his meaning, answered, 'i believe so; from the great attention he bestowed on it.' johnson. 'nay, sir, he died of _want_ of attention, if he died at all by that book.' we talked of a work much in vogue at that time, written in a very mellifluous style, but which, under pretext of another subject, contained much artful infidelity[ ]. i said it was not fair to attack us thus unexpectedly; he should have warned us of our danger, before we entered his garden of flowery eloquence, by advertising, 'spring guns and men-traps set here[ ].' the authour had been an oxonian, and was remembered there for having 'turned papist.' i observed, that as he had changed several times--from the church of england to the church of rome,--from the church of rome to infidelity,--i did not despair yet of seeing him a methodist preacher. johnson, (laughing.) 'it is said, that his range has been more extensive, and that he has once been mahometan[ ]. however, now that he has published his infidelity, he will probably persist in it.' boswell. 'i am not quite sure of that, sir.' i mentioned sir richard steele having published his _christian hero_, with the avowed purpose of obliging himself to lead a religious life[ ], yet, that his conduct was by no means strictly suitable. johnson. 'steele, i believe, practised the lighter vices.' mr. warton, being engaged, could not sup with us at our inn; we had therefore another evening by ourselves. i asked johnson, whether a man's[ ] being forward to make himself known to eminent people, and seeing as much of life, and getting as much information as he could in every way, was not yet lessening himself by his forwardness. johnson. 'no, sir; a man always makes himself greater as he increases his knowledge.' i censured some ludicrous fantastick dialogues between two coach-horses and other such stuff, which baretti had lately published[ ]. he joined with me, and said, 'nothing odd will do long. _tristram shandy_ did not last[ ].' i expressed a desire to be acquainted with a lady who had been much talked of, and universally celebrated for extraordinary address and insinuation[ ]. johnson. 'never believe extraordinary characters which you hear of people. depend upon it, sir, they are exaggerated. you do not see one man shoot a great deal higher than another.' i mentioned mr. burke. johnson. 'yes; burke is an extraordinary man. his stream of mind is perpetual[ ].' it is very pleasing to me to record, that johnson's high estimation of the talents of this gentleman was uniform from their early acquaintance. sir joshua reynolds informs me, that when mr. burke was first elected a member of parliament, and sir john hawkins expressed a wonder at his attaining a seat, johnson said, 'now we who know mr. burke, know, that he will be one of the first men in this country[ ].' and once, when johnson was ill, and unable to exert himself as much as usual without fatigue, mr. burke having been mentioned, he said, 'that fellow calls forth all my powers. were i to see burke now it would kill me[ ].' so much was he accustomed to consider conversation as a contest[ ], and such was his notion of burke as an opponent. next morning, thursday, march , we set out in a post-chaise to pursue our ramble. it was a delightful day, and we rode through blenheim park. when i looked at the magnificent bridge built by john duke of marlborough, over a small rivulet, and recollected the epigram made upon it-- 'the lofty arch his high ambition shows, the stream, an emblem of his bounty flows[ ]:' and saw that now, by the genius of brown[ ], a magnificent body of water was collected, i said, 'they have _drowned_ the epigram.' i observed to him, while in the midst of the noble scene around us, 'you and i, sir, have, i think, seen together the extremes of what can be seen in britain:--the wild rough island of mull, and blenheim park.' we dined at an excellent inn at chapel-house, where he expatiated on the felicity of england in its taverns and inns, and triumphed over the french for not having, in any perfection, the tavern life. 'there is no private house, (said he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so well, as at a capital tavern. let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that every body should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot be: there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. the master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own[ ]. whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. you are sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. no servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward in proportion as they please. no, sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn[ ].' he then repeated, with great emotion, shenstone's lines:-- 'whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, where'er his stages may have been, may sigh to think he still has found the warmest welcome at an inn[ ].' my illustrious friend, i thought, did not sufficiently admire shenstone[ ]. that ingenious and elegant gentleman's opinion of johnson appears in one of his letters to mr. graves[ ], dated feb. , . 'i have lately been reading one or two volumes of _the rambler_; who, excepting against some few hardnesses[ ] in his manner, and the want of more examples to enliven, is one of the most nervous, most perspicuous, most concise, [and] most harmonious prose writers i know. a learned diction improves by time.' in the afternoon, as we were driven rapidly along in the post-chaise, he said to me 'life has not many things better than this[ ].' we stopped at stratford-upon-avon, and drank tea and coffee; and it pleased me to be with him upon the classick ground of shakspeare's native place. he spoke slightingly of dyer's _fleece_[ ].--'the subject, sir, cannot be made poetical. how can a man write poetically of serges and druggets? yet you will hear many people talk to you gravely of that _excellent_ poem, _the fleece_.' having talked of grainger's _sugar-cane_, i mentioned to him mr. langton's having told me, that this poem, when read in manuscript at sir joshua reynolds's, had made all the assembled wits burst into a laugh, when, after much blank-verse pomp, the poet began a new paragraph thus:-- 'now, muse, let's sing of _rats_' and what increased the ridicule was, that one of the company, who slily overlooked the reader, perceived that the word had been originally _mice_, and had been altered to _rats_, as more dignified[ ]. this passage does not appear in the printed work. dr. grainger, or some of his friends, it should seem, having become sensible that introducing even _rats_ in a grave poem, might be liable to banter. he, however, could not bring himself to relinquish the idea; for they are thus, in a still more ludicrous manner, periphrastically exhibited in his poem as it now stands: 'nor with less waste the whisker'd vermin race a countless clan despoil the lowland cane.' johnson said, that dr. grainger was an agreeable man; a man who would do any good that was in his power. his translation of _tibullus_, he thought, was very well done; but _the sugar-cane_, a poem, did not please him[ ]; for, he exclaimed, 'what could he make of a sugar-cane? one might as well write the "parsley-bed, a poem;" or "the cabbage-garden, a poem."' boswell. 'you must then _pickle_ your cabbage with the _sal atticum_.' johnson. 'you know there is already _the hop-garden_, a poem[ ]: and, i think, one could say a great deal about cabbage. the poem might begin with the advantages of civilised society over a rude state, exemplified by the scotch, who had no cabbages till oliver cromwell's soldiers introduced them[ ]; and one might thus shew how arts are propagated by conquest, as they were by the roman arms.' he seemed to be much diverted with the fertility of his own fancy. i told him, that i heard dr. percy was writing the history of the wolf in great-britain. johnson. 'the wolf, sir! why the wolf? why does he not write of the bear, which we had formerly? nay, it is said we had the beaver. or why does he not write of the grey rat, the hanover rat, as it is called, because it is said to have come into this country about the time that the family of hanover came? i should like to see _the history of the grey rat, by thomas percy, d.d., chaplain in ordinary to his majesty_,' (laughing immoderately). boswell. 'i am afraid a court chaplain could not decently write of the grey rat.' johnson. 'sir, he need not give it the name of the hanover rat.' thus could he indulge a luxuriant sportive imagination, when talking of a friend whom he loved and esteemed. he mentioned to me the singular history of an ingenious acquaintance. 'he had practised physick in various situations with no great emolument. a west-india gentleman, whom he delighted by his conversation, gave him a bond for a handsome annuity during his life, on the condition of his accompanying him to the west-indies, and living with him there for two years. he accordingly embarked with the gentleman; but upon the voyage fell in love with a young woman who happened to be one of the passengers, and married the wench. from the imprudence of his disposition he quarrelled with the gentleman, and declared he would have no connection with him. so he forfeited the annuity. he settled as a physician in one of the leeward islands. a man was sent out to him merely to compound his medicines. this fellow set up as a rival to him in his practice of physick, and got so much the better of him in the opinion of the people of the island that he carried away all the business, upon which he returned to england, and soon after died.' on friday, march , having set out early from henley[ ], where we had lain the preceding night, we arrived at birmingham about nine o'clock, and, after breakfast, went to call on his old schoolfellow mr. hector[ ]. a very stupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that 'her master was gone out; he was gone to the country; she could not tell when he would return.' in short, she gave us a miserable reception; and johnson observed, 'she would have behaved no better to people who wanted him in the way of his profession.' he said to her, 'my name is johnson; tell him i called. will you remember the name?' she answered with rustick simplicity, in the warwickshire pronunciation, 'i don't understand you, sir.'--'blockhead, (said he,) i'll write.' i never heard the word _blockhead_ applied to a woman before, though i do not see why it should not, when there is evident occasion for it[ ]. he, however, made another attempt to make her understand him, and roared loud in her ear, '_johnson_', and then she catched the sound. we next called on mr. lloyd, one of the people called quakers. he too was not at home; but mrs. lloyd was, and received us courteously, and asked us to dinner. johnson said to me, 'after the uncertainty of all human things at hector's, this invitation came very well.' we walked about the town, and he was pleased to see it increasing. i talked of legitimation by subsequent marriage, which obtained in the roman law, and still obtains in the law of scotland. johnson. 'i think it a bad thing; because the chastity of women being of the utmost importance, as all property depends upon it, they who forfeit it should not have any possibility of being restored to good character; nor should the children, by an illicit connection, attain the full right of lawful children, by the posteriour consent of the offending parties.' his opinion upon this subject deserves consideration. upon his principle there may, at times, be a hardship, and seemingly a strange one, upon individuals; but the general good of society is better secured. and, after all, it is unreasonable in an individual to repine that he has not the advantage of a state which is made different from his own, by the social institution under which he is born. a woman does not complain that her brother, who is younger than her, gets their common father's estate. why then should a natural son complain that a younger brother, by the same parents lawfully begotten, gets it? the operation of law is similar in both cases. besides, an illegitimate son, who has a younger legitimate brother by the same father and mother, has no stronger claim to the father's estate, than if that legitimate brother had only the same father, from whom alone the estate descends. mr. lloyd joined us in the street; and in a little while we met _friend hector_, as mr. lloyd called him. it gave me pleasure to observe the joy which johnson and he expressed on seeing each other again. mr. lloyd and i left them together, while he obligingly shewed me some of the manufactures of this very curious assemblage of artificers. we all met at dinner at mr. lloyd's, where we were entertained with great hospitality. mr. and mrs. lloyd had been married the same year with their majesties, and like them, had been blessed with a numerous family of fine children, their numbers being exactly the same. johnson said, 'marriage is the best state for a man in general; and every man is a worse man, in proportion as he is unfit for the married state.' i have always loved the simplicity of manners, and the spiritual-mindedness of the quakers; and talking with mr. lloyd, i observed, that the essential part of religion was piety, a devout intercourse with the divinity; and that many a man was a quaker without knowing it. as dr. johnson had said to me in the morning, while we walked together, that he liked individuals among the quakers, but not the sect; when we were at mr. lloyd's, i kept clear of introducing any questions concerning the peculiarities of their faith. but i having asked to look at baskerville's edition of _barclay's apology_, johnson laid hold of it; and the chapter on baptism happening to open, johnson remarked, 'he says there is neither precept nor practice for baptism, in the scriptures; that is false.' here he was the aggressor, by no means in a gentle manner; and the good quakers had the advantage of him; for he had read negligently, and had not observed that barclay speaks of _infant_ baptism[ ]; which they calmly made him perceive. mr. lloyd, however, was in as great a mistake; for when insisting that the rite of baptism by water was to cease, when the _spiritual_ administration of christ began, he maintained, that john the baptist said, '_my baptism_ shall decrease, but _his_ shall increase.' whereas the words are, '_he_ must increase, but _i_ must decrease[ ].' one of them having objected to the 'observance of days, and months, and years,' johnson answered, 'the church does not superstitiously observe days, merely as days, but as memorials of important facts. christmas might be kept as well upon one day of the year as another; but there should be a stated day for commemorating the birth of our saviour, because there is danger that what may be done on any day, will be neglected.' he said to me at another time, 'sir, the holidays observed by our church are of great use in religion.' there can be no doubt of this, in a limited sense, i mean if the number of such consecrated portions of time be not too extensive. the excellent mr. nelson's[ ] _festivals and fasts_, which has, i understand, the greatest sale of any book ever printed in england, except the bible, is a most valuable help to devotion; and in addition to it i would recommend two sermons on the same subject, by mr. pott, archdeacon of st. alban's, equally distinguished for piety and elegance. i am sorry to have it to say, that scotland is the only christian country, catholick or protestant, where the great events of our religion are not solemnly commemorated by its ecclesiastical establishment, on days set apart for the purpose. mr. hector was so good as to accompany me to see the great works of mr. bolton, at a place which he has called soho, about two miles from birmingham, which the very ingenious proprietor shewed me himself to the best advantage. i wish johnson had been with us: for it was a scene which i should have been glad to contemplate by his light[ ]. the vastness and the contrivance of some of the machinery would have 'matched his mighty mind.' i shall never forget mr. bolton's expression to me: 'i sell here, sir, what all the world desires to have--power.' he had about seven hundred people at work. i contemplated him as an _iron chieftain_, and he seemed to be a father to his tribe. one of them came to him, complaining grievously of his landlord for having distrained his goods.' 'your landlord is in the right, smith, (said bolton). but i'll tell you what: find you a friend who will lay down one half of your rent, and i'll lay down the other half; and you shall have your goods again.' from mr. hector i now learnt many particulars of dr. johnson's early life, which, with others that he gave me at different times since, have contributed to the formation of this work. dr. johnson said to me in the morning, 'you will see, sir, at mr. hector's, his sister, mrs. careless[ ], a clergyman's widow. she was the first woman with whom i was in love. it dropt out of my head imperceptibly; but she and i shall always have a kindness for each other.' he laughed at the notion that a man never can be really in love but once, and considered it as a mere romantick fancy. on our return from mr. bolton's, mr. hector took me to his house, where we found johnson sitting placidly at tea[ ], with his _first love_; who, though now advanced in years, was a genteel woman, very agreeable, and well-bred. johnson lamented to mr. hector the state of one of their school-fellows, mr. charles congreve, a clergyman, which he thus described: 'he obtained, i believe, considerable preferment in ireland, but now lives in london, quite as a valetudinarian, afraid to go into any house but his own. he takes a short airing in his post-chaise every day. he has an elderly woman, whom he calls cousin, who lives with him, and jogs his elbow when his glass has stood too long empty, and encourages him in drinking, in which he is very willing to be encouraged; not that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always muddy[ ]. he confesses to one bottle of port every day, and he probably drinks more. he is quite unsocial; his conversation is quite monosyllabical: and when, at my last visit, i asked him what a clock it was? that signal of my departure had so pleasing an effect on him, that he sprung up to look at his watch, like a greyhound bounding at a hare.' when johnson took leave of mr. hector, he said, 'don't grow like congreve; nor let me grow like him, when you are near me[ ].' when he again talked of mrs. careless to-night, he seemed to have had his affection revived; for he said, 'if i had married her, it might have been as happy for me.[ ]' boswell. 'pray, sir, do you not suppose that there are fifty women in the world, with any one of whom a man may be as happy, as with any one woman in particular.' johnson. 'ay, sir, fifty thousand.' boswell. 'then, sir, you are not of opinion with some who imagine that certain men and certain women are made for each other; and that they cannot be happy if they miss their counterparts.' johnson. 'to be sure not, sir. i believe marriages would in general be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the lord chancellor, upon a due consideration of characters and circumstances, without the parties having any choice in the matter.' i wished to have staid at birmingham to-night, to have talked more with mr. hector; but my friend was impatient to reach his native city; so we drove on that stage in the dark, and were long pensive and silent. when we came within the focus of the lichfield lamps, 'now (said he,) we are getting out of a state of death.' we put up at the three crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old fashioned one, which was kept by mr. wilkins, and was the very next house to that in which johnson was born and brought up, and which was still his own property[ ]. we had a comfortable supper, and got into high spirits. i felt all my toryism glow in this old capital of staffordshire. i could have offered incense _genio loci_; and i indulged in libations of that ale, which boniface, in _the beaux stratagem_, recommends with such an eloquent jollity[ ]. next morning he introduced me to mrs. lucy porter, his step-daughter. she was now an old maid, with much simplicity of manner. she had never been in london. her brother, a captain in the navy, had left her a fortune of ten thousand pounds; about a third of which she had laid out in building a stately house, and making a handsome garden, in an elevated situation in lichfield. johnson, when here by himself, used to live at her house. she reverenced him, and he had a parental tenderness for her[ ]. we then visited mr. peter garrick, who had that morning received a letter from his brother david, announcing our coming to lichfield. he was engaged to dinner, but asked us to tea, and to sleep at his house. johnson, however, would not quit his old acquaintance wilkins, of the three crowns. the family likeness of the garricks was very striking[ ]; and johnson thought that david's vivacity was not so peculiar to himself as was supposed. 'sir, (said he,) i don't know but if peter had cultivated all the arts of gaiety as much as david has done, he might have been as brisk and lively. depend upon it, sir, vivacity is much an art, and depends greatly on habit.' i believe there is a good deal of truth in this, notwithstanding a ludicrous story told me by a lady abroad, of a heavy german baron, who had lived much with the young english at geneva, and was ambitious to be as lively as they; with which view, he, with assiduous exertion, was jumping over the tables and chairs in his lodgings; and when the people of the house ran in and asked, with surprize, what was the matter, he answered, '_sh' apprens t'etre fif_.' we dined at our inn, and had with us a mr. jackson[ ], one of johnson's schoolfellows, whom he treated with much kindness, though he seemed to be a low man, dull and untaught. he had a coarse grey coat, black waistcoat, greasy leather breeches, and a yellow uncurled wig; and his countenance had the ruddiness which betokens one who is in no haste to 'leave his can.' he drank only ale. he had tried to be a cutler at birmingham, but had not succeeded; and now he lived poorly at home, and had some scheme of dressing leather in a better manner than common; to his indistinct account of which, dr. johnson listened with patient attention, that he might assist him with his advice. here was an instance of genuine humanity and real kindness in this great man, who has been most unjustly represented as altogether harsh and destitute of tenderness. a thousand such instances might have been recorded in the course of his long life; though that his temper was warm and hasty, and his manner often rough, cannot be denied. i saw here, for the first time, _oat ale_; and oat cakes not hard as in scotland, but soft like a yorkshire cake, were served at breakfast. it was pleasant to me to find, that _oats_, the _food of horses_[ ], were so much used as the _food of the people_ in dr. johnson's own town. he expatiated in praise of lichfield and its inhabitants, who, he said, were 'the most sober, decent people[ ] in england, the genteelest in proportion to their wealth, and spoke the purest english[ ].' i doubted as to the last article of this eulogy: for they had several provincial sounds; as _there_, pronounced like _fear_, instead of like _fair; once_ pronounced _woonse_, instead of _wunse_, or _wonse_. johnson himself never got entirely free of those provincial accents[ ]. garrick sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, 'who's for _poonsh_?[ ]' very little business appeared to be going forward in lichfield. i found however two strange manufactures for so inland a place, sail-cloth and streamers for ships; and i observed them making some saddle-cloths, and dressing sheepskins: but upon the whole, the busy hand of industry seemed to be quite slackened. 'surely, sir, (said i,) you are an idle set of people.' 'sir, (said johnson,) we are a city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the boobies of birmingham[ ] work for us with their hands.' there was at this time a company of players performing at lichfield. the manager, mr. stanton, sent his compliments, and begged leave to wait on dr. johnson. johnson received him very courteously, and he drank a glass of wine with us. he was a plain decent well-behaved man, and expressed his gratitude to dr. johnson for having once got him permission from dr. taylor at ashbourne to play there upon moderate terms. garrick's name was soon introduced. johnson. 'garrick's conversation is gay and grotesque. it is a dish of all sorts, but all good things. there is no solid meat in it: there is a want of sentiment in it. not but that he has sentiment sometimes, and sentiment, too, very powerful and very pleasing: but it has not its full proportion in his conversation.' when we were by ourselves he told me, 'forty years ago, sir, i was in love with an actress here, mrs. emmet, who acted flora, in _hob in the well_[ ].' what merit this lady had as an actress, or what was her figure, or her manner, i have not been informed: but, if we may believe mr. garrick, his old master's taste in theatrical merit was by no means refined[ ]; he was not an _elegans formarum spectator_[ ]. garrick used to tell, that johnson said of an actor, who played sir harry wildair [ ] at lichfield, 'there is a courtly vivacity about the fellow;' when in fact, according to garrick's account, 'he was the most vulgar ruffian that ever went upon _boards_.' we had promised mr. stanton to be at his theatre on monday. dr. johnson jocularly proposed me to write a prologue for the occasion: 'a prologue, by james boswell, esq. from the hebrides.' i was really inclined to take the hint. methought, 'prologue, spoken before dr. samuel johnson, at lichfield, ;' would have sounded as well as, 'prologue, spoken before the duke of york, at oxford,' in charles the second's time. much might have been said of what lichfield had done for shakspeare, by producing johnson and garrick. but i found he was averse to it. we went and viewed the museum of mr. richard green, apothecary here, who told me he was proud of being a relation of dr. johnson's. it was, truely, a wonderful collection, both of antiquities and natural curiosities, and ingenious works of art. he had all the articles accurately arranged, with their names upon labels, printed at his own little press; and on the staircase leading to it was a board, with the names of contributors marked in gold letters. a printed catalogue of the collection was to be had at a bookseller's. johnson expressed his admiration of the activity and diligence and good fortune of mr. green, in getting together, in his situation, so great a variety of things; and mr. green told me that johnson once said to him, 'sir, i should as soon have thought of building a man of war, as of collecting such a museum.' mr. green's obliging alacrity in shewing it was very pleasing. his engraved portrait, with which he has favoured me, has a motto truely characteristical of his disposition, '_nemo sibi vivat_.' a physician being mentioned who had lost his practice, because his whimsically changing his religion had made people distrustful of him, i maintained that this was unreasonable, as religion is unconnected with medical skill. johnson. 'sir, it is not unreasonable; for when people see a man absurd in what they understand, they may conclude the same of him in what they do not understand. if a physician were to take to eating of horse-flesh, nobody would employ him; though one may eat horse-flesh, and be a very skilful physician. if a man were educated in an absurd religion, his continuing to profess it would not hurt him, though his changing to it would.' we drank tea and coffee at mr. peter garrick's, where was mrs. aston, one of the maiden sisters of mrs. walmsley, wife of johnson's first friend[ ], and sister also of the lady of whom johnson used to speak with the warmest admiration, by the name of molly aston[ ], who was afterwards married to captain brodie of the navy. on sunday, march , we breakfasted with mrs. cobb, a widow lady, who lived in an agreeable sequestered place close by the town, called the friary, it having been formerly a religious house. she and her niece, miss adey, were great admirers of dr. johnson; and he behaved to them with a kindness and easy pleasantry, such as we see between old and intimate acquaintance. he accompanied mrs. cobb to st. mary's church, and i went to the cathedral, where i was very much delighted with the musick, finding it to be peculiarly solemn and accordant with the words of the service. we dined at mr. peter garrick's, who was in a very lively humour, and verified johnson's saying, that if he had cultivated gaiety as much as his brother david, he might have equally excelled in it. he was to-day quite a london narrator, telling us a variety of anecdotes with that earnestness and attempt at mimicry which we usually find in the wits of the metropolis. dr. johnson went with me to the cathedral in the afternoon[ ]. it was grand and pleasing to contemplate this illustrious writer, now full of fame, worshipping in the 'solemn temple[ ]' of his native city. i returned to tea and coffee at mr. peter garrick's, and then found dr. johnson at the reverend mr. seward's[ ], canon residentiary, who inhabited the bishop's palace[ ], in which mr. walmsley lived, and which had been the scene of many happy hours in johnson's early life. mr. seward had, with ecclesiastical hospitality and politeness, asked me in the morning, merely as a stranger, to dine with him; and in the afternoon, when i was introduced to him, he asked dr. johnson and me to spend the evening and sup with him. he was a genteel well-bred dignified clergyman, had travelled with lord charles fitzroy, uncle of the present duke of grafton, who died when abroad, and he had lived much in the great world. he was an ingenious and literary man, had published an edition of beaumont and fletcher, and written verses in dodsley's collection. his lady was the daughter of mr. hunter, johnson's first schoolmaster. and now, for the first time, i had the pleasure of seeing his celebrated daughter, miss anna seward, to whom i have since been indebted for many civilities, as well as some obliging communications concerning johnson[ ]. mr. seward mentioned to us the observations which he had made upon the strata of earth in volcanos, from which it appeared, that they were so very different in depth at different periods, that no calculation whatever could be made as to the time required for their formation. this fully refuted an antimosaical remark introduced into captain brydone's entertaining tour, i hope heedlessly, from a kind of vanity which is too common in those who have not sufficiently studied the most important of all subjects. dr. johnson, indeed, had said before, independent of this observation, 'shall all the accumulated evidence of the history of the world;--shall the authority of what is unquestionably the most ancient writing, be overturned by an uncertain remark such as this?[ ]' on monday, march , we breakfasted at mrs. lucy porter's. johnson had sent an express to dr. taylor's, acquainting him of our being at lichfield[ ], and taylor had returned an answer that his postchaise should come for us this day. while we sat at breakfast, dr. johnson received a letter by the post, which seemed to agitate him very much. when he had read it, he exclaimed, 'one of the most dreadful things that has happened in my time.' the phrase _my time_, like the word _age_, is usually understood to refer to an event of a publick or general nature. i imagined something like an assassination of the king--like a gunpowder plot carried into execution--or like another fire of london. when asked, 'what is it, sir?' he answered, 'mr. thrale has lost his only son![ ]' this was, no doubt, a very great affliction to mr. and mrs. thrale, which their friends would consider accordingly; but from the manner in which the intelligence of it was communicated by johnson, it appeared for the moment to be comparatively small. i, however, soon felt a sincere concern, and was curious to observe, how dr. johnson would be affected. he said, 'this is a total extinction to their family, as much as if they were sold into captivity.' upon my mentioning that mr. thrale had daughters, who might inherit his wealth;--'daughters, (said johnson, warmly,) he'll no more value his daughters than--'i was going to speak.--'sir, (said he,) don't you know how you yourself think? sir, he wishes to propagate his name[ ].' in short, i saw male succession strong in his mind, even where there was no name, no family of any long standing. i said, it was lucky he was not present when this misfortune happened. johnson. 'it is lucky for _me_. people in distress never think that you feel enough.' boswell. 'and sir, they will have the hope of seeing you, which will be a relief in the mean time; and when you get to them, the pain will be so far abated, that they will be capable of being consoled by you, which, in the first violence of it, i believe, would not be the case.' johnson. 'no, sir; violent pain of mind, like violent pain of body, _must_ be severely felt.' boswell. 'i own, sir, i have not so much feeling for the distress of others, as some people have, or pretend to have: but i know this, that i would do all in my power to relieve them.' johnson. 'sir, it is affectation to pretend to feel the distress of others, as much as they do themselves. it is equally so, as if one should pretend to feel as much pain while a friend's leg is cutting off, as he does. no, sir; you have expressed the rational and just nature of sympathy. i would have gone to the extremity of the earth to have preserved this boy[ ].' he was soon quite calm. the letter was from mr. thrale's clerk, and concluded, 'i need not say how much they wish to see you in london.' he said, 'we shall hasten back from taylor's.' mrs. lucy porter and some other ladies of the place talked a great deal of him when he was out of the room, not only with veneration but affection. it pleased me to find that he was so much _beloved_ in his native city. mrs. aston, whom i had seen the preceding night, and her sister, mrs. gastrel, a widow lady, had each a house and garden, and pleasure-ground, prettily situated upon stowhill, a gentle eminence, adjoining to lichfield. johnson walked away to dinner there, leaving me by myself without any apology; i wondered at this want of that facility of manners, from which a man has no difficulty in carrying a friend to a house where he is intimate; i felt it very unpleasant to be thus left in solitude in a country town, where i was an entire stranger, and began to think myself unkindly deserted: but i was soon relieved, and convinced that my friend, instead of being deficient in delicacy, had conducted the matter with perfect propriety, for i received the following note in his handwriting: 'mrs. gastrel, at the lower house on stowhill, desires mr. boswell's company to dinner at two.' i accepted of the invitation, and had here another proof how amiable his character was in the opinion of those who knew him best. i was not informed, till afterwards, that mrs. gastrel's husband was the clergyman who, while he lived at stratford upon avon, where he was proprietor of shakspeare's garden, with gothick barbarity cut down his mulberry-tree[ ], and, as dr. johnson told me, did it to vex his neighbours. his lady, i have reason to believe, on the same authority[ ], participated in the guilt of what the enthusiasts for our immortal bard deem almost a species of sacrilege. after dinner dr. johnson wrote a letter to mrs. thrale on the death of her son[ ]. i said it would be very distressing to thrale, but she would soon forget it, as she had so many things to think of. johnson. 'no, sir, thrale will forget it first. _she_ has many things that she _may_ think of. _he_ has many things that he _must_ think of[ ].' this was a very just remark upon the different effect of those light pursuits which occupy a vacant and easy mind, and those serious engagements which arrest attention, and keep us from brooding over grief. he observed of lord bute, 'it was said of augustus, that it would have been better for rome that he had never been born, or had never died. so it would have been better for this nation if lord bute had never been minister, or had never resigned.' in the evening we went to the town-hall, which was converted into a temporary theatre, and saw _theodosius_, with _the stratford jubilee_. i was happy to see dr. johnson sitting in a conspicuous part of the pit, and receiving affectionate homage from all his acquaintance. we were quite gay and merry. i afterwards mentioned to him that i condemned myself for being so, when poor mr. and mrs. thrale were in such distress. johnson. 'you are wrong, sir; twenty years hence mr. and mrs. thrale will not suffer much pain from the death of their son. now, sir, you are to consider, that distance of place, as well as distance of time, operates upon the human feelings. i would not have you be gay in the presence of the distressed, because it would shock them; but you may be gay at a distance. pain for the loss of a friend, or of a relation whom we love, is occasioned by the want which we feel. in time the vacuity is filled with something else; or sometimes the vacuity closes up of itself.' mr. seward and mr. pearson, another clergyman here, supt with us at our inn, and after they left us, we sat up late as we used to do in london. here i shall record some fragments of my friend's conversation during this jaunt. 'marriage, sir, is much more necessary to a man than to a woman; for he is much less able to supply himself with domestick comforts. you will recollect my saying to some ladies the other day, that i had often wondered why young women should marry, as they have so much more freedom, and so much more attention paid to them while unmarried, than when married. i indeed did not mention the _strong_ reason for their marrying--the _mechanical_ reason.' boswell. 'why that _is_ a strong one. but does not imagination make it much more important than it is in reality? is it not, to a certain degree, a delusion in us as well as in women?' johnson. 'why yes, sir; but it is a delusion that is always beginning again.' boswell. 'i don't know but there is upon the whole more misery than happiness produced by that passion.' johnson. 'i don't think so, sir.' 'never speak of a man in his own presence. it is always indelicate, and may be offensive.' 'questioning is not the mode of conversation among gentlemen[ ]. it is assuming a superiority, and it is particularly wrong to question a man concerning himself. there may be parts of his former life which he may not wish to be made known to other persons, or even brought to his own recollection.' 'a man should be careful never to tell tales of himself to his own disadvantage. people may be amused and laugh at the time, but they will be remembered, and brought out against him upon some subsequent occasion.' 'much may be done if a man puts his whole mind to a particular object. by doing so, norton[ ] has made himself the great lawyer that he is allowed to be.' i mentioned an acquaintance of mine[ ], a sectary, who was a very religious man, who not only attended regularly on publick worship with those of his communion, but made a particular study of the scriptures, and even wrote a commentary on some parts of them, yet was known to be very licentious in indulging himself with women; maintaining that men are to be saved by faith alone, and that the christian religion had not prescribed any fixed rule for the intercourse between the sexes. johnson. 'sir, there is no trusting to that crazy piety.' i observed that it was strange how well scotchmen were known to one another in their own country, though born in very distant counties; for we do not find that the gentlemen of neighbouring counties in england are mutually known to each other. johnson, with his usual acuteness, at once saw and explained the reason of this; 'why, sir, you have edinburgh, where the gentlemen from all your counties meet, and which is not so large but they are all known. there is no such common place of collection in england, except london, where from its great size and diffusion, many of those who reside in contiguous counties of england, may long remain unknown to each other.' on tuesday, march , there came for us an equipage properly suited to a wealthy well-beneficed clergyman;--dr. taylor's large roomy post-chaise, drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly postillions, which conveyed us to ashbourne; where i found my friend's schoolfellow living upon an establishment perfectly corresponding with his substantial creditable equipage: his house, garden, pleasure-grounds, table, in short every thing good, and no scantiness appearing. every man should form such a plan of living as he can execute completely. let him not draw an outline wider than he can fill up. i have seen many skeletons of shew and magnificence which excite at once ridicule and pity. dr. taylor had a good estate of his own, and good preferment in the church[ ], being a prebendary of westminster, and rector of bosworth. he was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over the town of ashbourne, to the inhabitants of which i was told he was very liberal; and as a proof of this it was mentioned to me, he had the preceding winter distributed two hundred pounds among such of them as stood in need of his assistance. he had consequently a considerable political interest in the county of derby, which he employed to support the devonshire family; for though the schoolfellow and friend of johnson, he was a whig. i could not perceive in his character much congeniality of any sort with that of johnson, who, however, said to me, 'sir, he has a very strong understanding[ ].' his size, and figure, and countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty english 'squire, with the parson super-induced: and i took particular notice of his upper servant, mr. peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white wig, like the butler or _major domo_ of a bishop. dr. johnson and dr. taylor met with great cordiality; and johnson soon gave him the same sad account of their school-fellow, congreve, that he had given to mr. hector[ ]; adding a remark of such moment to the rational conduct of a man in the decline of life, that it deserves to be imprinted upon every mind: 'there is nothing against which an old man should be so much upon his guard as putting himself to nurse[ ].' innumerable have been the melancholy instances of men once distinguished for firmness, resolution, and spirit, who in their latter days have been governed like children, by interested female artifice. dr. taylor commended a physician who was known to him and dr. johnson, and said, 'i fight many battles for him, as many people in the country dislike him.' johnson. 'but you should consider, sir, that by every one of your victories he is a loser; for, every man of whom you get the better, will be very angry, and resolve not to employ him; whereas if people get the better of you in argument about him, they'll think, "we'll send for dr. ----[ ] nevertheless."' this was an observation deep and sure in human nature. next day we talked of a book[ ] in which an eminent judge was arraigned before the bar of the publick, as having pronounced an unjust decision in a great cause. dr. johnson maintained that this publication would not give any uneasiness to the judge. 'for (said he,) either he acted honestly, or he meant to do injustice. if he acted honestly, his own consciousness will protect him; if he meant to do injustice, he will be glad to see the man who attacks him, so much vexed,' next day, as dr. johnson had acquainted dr. taylor of the reason for his returning speedily to london, it was resolved that we should set out after dinner. a few of dr. taylor's neighbours were his guests that day. dr. johnson talked with approbation of one who had attained to the state of the philosophical wise man, that is, to have no want of any thing. 'then, sir, (said i,) the savage is a wise man.' 'sir, (said he,) i do not mean simply being without,--but not having a want.' i maintained, against this proposition, that it was better to have fine clothes, for instance, than not to feel the want of them. johnson. 'no, sir; fine clothes are good only as they supply the want of other means of procuring respect. was charles the twelfth, think you, less respected for his coarse blue coat and black stock[ ]? and you find the king of prussia dresses plain, because the dignity of his character is sufficient.' i here brought myself into a scrape, for i heedlessly said, 'would not _you_, sir, be the better for velvet and embroidery?' johnson. 'sir, you put an end to all argument when you introduce your opponent himself. have you no better manners? there is _your want_.' i apologised by saying, i had mentioned him as an instance of one who wanted as little as any man in the world, and yet, perhaps, might receive some additional lustre from dress. appendix a. (page .) in the bodleian is the following autograph record by johnson of good friday, march , easter sunday, march , and may , , and the copy of the record of saturday, march . they belong to the series published by the rev. mr. strahan under the title of _prayers and meditations_, but they are not included in it. 'good friday, march , .--on the night before i used proper collects, and prayed when i arose in the morning. i had all the week an awe upon me, not thinking on passion week till i looked in the almanack. i have wholly forborne m [? meat] and wines, except one glass on sunday night. 'in the morning i rose, and drank very small tea without milk, and had nothing more that day. 'this was the day on which tetty died. i did not mingle much men [? mention] of her with the devotions of this day, because it is dedicated to more holy subjects. i mentioned her at church, and prayed once solemnly at home. i was twice at church, and went through the prayers without perturbation, but heard the sermons imperfectly. i came in both times at the second lesson, not hearing the bell. 'when i came home i read the psalms for the day, and one sermon in clark. scruples distract me, but at church i had hopes to conquer them. 'i bore abstinence this day not well, being at night insupportably heavy, but as fasting does not produce sleepyness, i had perhaps rested ill the night before. i prayed in my study for the day, and prayed again in my chamber. i went to bed very early--before eleven. 'after church i selected collects for the sacraments. 'finding myself upon recollection very ignorant of religion, i formed a purpose of studying it. 'i went down and sat to tea, but was too heavy to converse. 'saturday, .--i rose at the time now usual, not fully refreshed. went to tea. a sudden thought of restraint hindered me. i drank but one dish. took a purge for my health. still uneasy. prayed, and went to dinner. dined sparingly on fish [added in different ink] about four. went to simpson. was driven home by my physick. drank tea, and am much refreshed. i believe that if i had drank tea again yesterday, i had escaped the heaviness of the evening. fasting that produces inability is no duty, but i was unwilling to do less than formerly. 'i had lived more abstemiously than is usual the whole week, and taken physick twice, which together made the fast more uneasy. 'thus much i have written medically, to show that he who can fast long must have lived plentifully. 'saturday, march , .--i was yesterday very heavy. i do not feel myself to-day so much impressed with awe of the approaching mystery. i had this day a doubt, like baxter, of my state, and found that my faith, though weak, was yet faith. o god! strengthen it. 'since the last reception of the sacrament i hope i have no otherwise grown worse than as continuance in sin makes the sinner's condition more dangerous. 'since last new year's eve i have risen every morning by eight, at least not after nine, which is more superiority over my habits than i have ever before been able to obtain. scruples still distress me. my resolution, with the blessing of god, is to contend with them, and, if i can, to conquer them. 'my resolutions are-- 'to conquer scruples. 'to read the bible this year. 'to try to rise more early. 'to study divinity. 'to live methodically. 'to oppose idleness. 'to frequent divine worship. 'almighty and most merciful father! before whom i now appear laden with the sins of another year, suffer me yet again to call upon thee for pardon and peace. 'o god! grant me repentance, grant me reformation. grant that i may be no longer distracted with doubts, and harassed with vain terrors. grant that i may no longer linger in perplexity, nor waste in idleness that life which thou hast given and preserved. grant that i may serve thee in firm faith and diligent endeavour, and that i may discharge the duties of my calling with tranquillity and constancy. take not, o god, thy holy spirit from me: but grant that i may so direct my life by thy holy laws, as that, when thou shalt call me hence, i may pass by a holy and happy death to a life of everlasting and unchangeable joy, for the sake of jesus christ our lord. amen. 'i went to bed (at) one or later; but did not sleep, tho' i knew not why. 'easter day, march , .--i rose in the morning. prayed. took my prayer book to tea; drank tea; planned my devotion for the church. i think prayed again. went to church, was early. went through the prayers with fixed attention. could not hear the sermon. after sermon, applied myself to devotion. troubled with baxter's scruple, which was quieted as i returned home. it occurred to me that the scruple itself was its own confutation. 'i used the prayer against scruples in the foregoing page in the pew, and commended (so far as it was lawful) tetty, dear tetty, in a prayer by herself, then my other friends. what collects i do not exactly remember. i gave a shilling. i then went towards the altar that i might hear the service. the communicants were more than i ever saw. i kept back; used again the foregoing prayer; again commended tetty, and lifted up my heart for the rest. i prayed in the collect for the fourteen s. after trinity for encrease of faith, hope, and charity, and deliverance from scruples; this deliverance was the chief subject of my prayers. o god, hear me. i am now to try to conquer them. after reception i repeated my petition, and again when i came home. my dinner made me a little peevish; not much. after dinner i retired, and read in an hour and a half the seven first chapters of st. matthew in greek. glory be to god. god grant me to proceed and improve, for jesus christ's sake. amen. 'i went to evening prayers, and was undisturbed. at church in the morning it occurred to me to consider about example of good any of my friends had set me. this is proper, in order to the thanks returned for their good examples. 'my attainment of rising gives me comfort and hope. o god, for jesus christ's sake, bless me. amen. 'after church, before and after dinner, i read rotheram on faith. 'after evening prayer i retired, and wrote this account. 'i then repeated the prayer of the day, with collects, and my prayer for night, and went down to supper at near ten. 'may ,-- . i have read since the noon of easter day the gospels of st. matthew and st. mark in greek. 'i have read xenophon's cyropaidia.' bodleian library. select autographs. (montagu.) * * * * * appendix b. (_page_ .) johnson's sentiments towards his fellow-subjects in america have never, so far as i know, been rightly stated. it was not because they fought for liberty that he had come to dislike them. a man who, 'bursting forth with a generous indignation, had said:--"the irish are in a most unnatural state; for we see there the minority prevailing over the majority"' (_ante_, ii. ), was not likely to wish that our plantations should be tyrannically governed. the man who, 'in company with some very grave men at oxford, gave as his toast, "here's to the next insurrection of the negroes in the west indies"' (_post_, iii. ), was not likely to condemn insurrections in general. the key to his feelings is found in his indignant cry, 'how is it that we hear the loudest _yelps_ for liberty among the drivers of negroes?' (_ib_) he hated slavery as perhaps no man of his time hated it. while the quakers, who were almost the pioneers in the anti-slavery cause, were still slave-holders and slave-dealers, he lifted up his voice against it. so early as , when washington was but a child of eight, he had maintained 'the natural right of the negroes to liberty and independence.' (_works_, vi. .) in he described jamaica as 'a place of great wealth and dreadful wickedness, a den of tyrants and a dungeon of slaves.' (_ib_ vi. .) in he wrote:--'of black men the numbers are too great who are now repining under english cruelty.' (_ib_ iv. .) in the same year, in describing the cruelty of the portuguese discoverers, he said:--'we are openly told that they had the less scruple concerning their treatment of the savage people, because they scarcely considered them as distinct from beasts; and indeed, the practice of all the european nations, and among others of the _english barbarians that cultivate the southern islands of america_, proves that this opinion, however absurd and foolish, however wicked and injurious, still continues to prevail. interest and pride harden the heart, and it is in vain to dispute against avarice and power.' (_ib_ v. .) no miserable sophistry could convince him, with his clear mind and his ardour for liberty, that slavery can be right. 'an individual,' he wrote (_post_, iii. ), 'may, indeed, forfeit his liberty by a crime; but he cannot by that crime forfeit the liberty of his children.' how deeply he felt for the wrongs done to helpless races is shown in his dread of discoverers. no man had a more eager curiosity, or more longed that the bounds of knowledge should be enlarged. yet he wrote:--'i do not much wish well to discoveries, for i am always afraid they will end in conquest and robbery.' (croker's _boswell_, p. .) in his _life of savage_, written in , he said (_works_, viii. ):--'savage has not forgotten ... to censure those crimes which have been generally committed by the discoverers of new regions, and to expose the enormous wickedness of making war upon barbarous nations because they cannot resist, and of invading countries because they are fruitful.... he has asserted the natural equality of mankind, and endeavoured to suppress that pride which inclines men to imagine that right is the consequence of power.' he loved the university of salamanca, because it gave it as its opinion that the conquest of america by the spaniards was not lawful (_ante_, i. ). when, in , the english and french were at war in america, he said that 'such was the contest that no honest man could heartily wish success to either party.... it was only the quarrel of two robbers for the spoils of a passenger' (_ante_, i. , note ). when, from political considerations, opposition was raised in to the scheme of translating the bible into erse, he wrote:--'to omit for a year, or for a day, the most efficacious method of advancing christianity, in compliance with any purposes that terminate on this side of the grave, is a crime of which i know not that the world has yet had an example, except in the practice of the planters of america--a race of mortals whom, i suppose, no other man wishes to resemble' (_ante_, ii. ). englishmen, as a nation, had no right to reproach their fellow-subjects in america with being drivers of negroes; for england shared in the guilt and the gain of that infamous traffic. nay, even as the virginian delegates to congress in complained:--'our repeated attempts to exclude all further importations of slaves from africa by prohibition, and by imposing duties which might amount to prohibition, have hitherto been defeated by his majesty's negative--thus preferring the immediate advantages of a few british corsairs to the lasting interests of the american states, and to the rights of human nature, deeply wounded by this infamous practice.' bright's _speeches_, ed. , i. . franklin (_memoirs_, ed. , iii. ), writing from london in , speaks of 'the hypocrisy of this country, which encourages such a detestable commerce by laws for promoting the guinea trade; while it piqued itself on its virtue, love of liberty, and the equity of its courts in setting free a single negro.' from the slightest stain of this hypocrisy johnson was free. he, at all events, had a right to protest against 'the yelps' of those who, while they solemnly asserted that among the unalienable rights of all men are liberty and the pursuit of happiness, yet themselves were drivers of negroes. footnotes: [ ] had he been 'busily employed' he would, no doubt, have finished the edition in a few months. he himself had recorded at easter, : 'my time has been unprofitably spent, and seems as a dream that has left nothing behind.' _pr. and med_., p. . [ ] dedications had been commonly used as a means of getting money by flattery. i. d'israeli in his _calamities of authors_, i. , says:--'fuller's _church history_ is disgraced by twelve particular dedications. it was an expedient to procure dedication fees; for publishing books by subscription was an art not yet discovered.' the price of the dedication of a play was, he adds, in the time of george i, twenty guineas. so much then, at least, johnson lost by not dedicating _irene_. however, when he addressed the _plan of his dictionary_ to lord chesterfield (_ante_, i. ) he certainly came very near a dedication. boswell, in the _hypochondriack_, writes:--'for my own part, i own i am proud enough. but i do not relish the stateliness of not dedicating at all. i prefer pleasure to pride, and it appears to me that there is much pleasure in honestly expressing one's admiration, esteem, or affection in a public manner, and in thus contributing to the happiness of another by making him better pleased with himself.' _london mag_. for , p. . his dedications were dedications of friendship, not of flattery or servility. he dedicated his _tour to corsica_ to paoli, his _tour to the hebrides_ to malone, and his _life of johnson_ to sir joshua reynolds. goldsmith, in like manner, distrest though he so often was, dedicated his _traveller_ to his brother, the _deserted village_ to sir joshua, and _she stoops to conquer_ to johnson. [ ] a passage in boswell's letter to malone of jan. , (croker's _boswell_, p. ), shows that it is reynolds of whom he is writing. 'i am,' he writes, 'to cancel a leaf of the first volume, having found that though sir joshua certainly assured me he had no objection to my mentioning that johnson wrote a dedication for him, he now thinks otherwise. in that leaf occurs the mention of johnson having written to dr. leland, thanking the university of dublin for their diploma.' in the first edition, this mention of the letter is followed by the passage above about dedications. it was no doubt reynolds's _dedication of his discourses_ to the king in the year that johnson wrote. the first sentence is in a high degree johnsonian. 'the regular progress of cultivated life is from necessaries to accommodations, from accommodations to ornaments.' [ ] 'that is to say,' he added, 'to the last generation of the royal family.' see _post_, april , . we may hope that the royal family were not all like the duke of gloucester, who, when gibbon brought him the second volume of the _decline and fall_, 'received him with much good nature and affability, saying to him, as he laid the quarto on the table, "another d----d thick, square book! always scribble, scribble, scribble! eh! mr. gibbon?"' best's _memorials_, p. . [ ] such care was needless. boswell complained (_post_, june , ), that johnson did not _answer_ his letters, but only sent him _returns_. [ ] 'on one of the days that my ague disturbed me least, i walked from the convent to corte, purposely to write a letter to mr. samuel johnson. i told my revered friend, that from a kind of superstition agreeable in a certain degree to him as well as to myself, i had, during my travels, written to him from loca solennia, places in some measure sacred. that, as i had written to him from the tomb of melancthon (see _post_, june , ), sacred to learning and piety, i now wrote to him from the palace of pascal paoli, sacred to wisdom and liberty.' boswell's _tour to corsica_, p. . how delighted would boswell have been had he lived to see the way in which he is spoken of by the biographer of paoli: 'en traversant la méditerranée sur de frêles navires pour venir s'asseoir au foyer de la nationalité corse, _des hommes graves_ tels que boswel et volney obéissaient sans doute à un sentiment bien plus élevé qu' au besoin vulgaire d'une puerile curiosité.' _histoire de pascal paoli_, par a. arrighi, i. . by every corsican of any education the name of boswell is known and honoured. one of them told me that it was in boswell's pages that paoli still lived for them. he informed me also of a family which still preserved by tradition the remembrance of boswell's visit to their ancestral home. [ ] the twelve following lines of this letter were published by boswell in his _corsica_ (p. ) without johnson's leave. (see _post_, march , .) temple, to whom the book had been shewn before publication, had, it should seem, advised boswell to omit this extract. boswell replied:--'your remarks are of great service to me ... but i must have my great preceptor, mr. johnson, introduced.' _letters of boswell_, p. . in writing to excuse himself to johnson (_post_, april , ), he says, 'the temptation to publishing it was so strong.' [ ] 'tell your court,' said paoli to boswell, 'what you have seen here. they will be curious to ask you. a man come from corsica will be like a man come from the antipodes.' boswell's _corsica_, p. . he was not indeed the first 'native of this country' to go there. he found in bastia 'an english woman of penrith, in cumberland. when the highlanders marched through that country in the year , she had married a soldier of the french picquets in the very midst of all the confusion and danger, and when she could hardly understand one word he said.' _ib_, p. . boswell nowhere quotes mrs. barbauld's fine lines on corsica. perhaps he was ashamed of the praise of the wife of 'a little presbyterian parson who kept an infant boarding school.' (see _post_, under dec. , .) yet he must have been pleased when he read:-- 'such were the working thoughts which swelled the breast of generous boswell; when with nobler aim and views beyond the narrow beaten track by trivial fancy trod, he turned his course from polished gallia's soft delicious vales,' &c. mrs. barbauld's _poems_, i. . [ ] murphy, in the _monthly review_, lxxvi. , thus describes johnson's life in johnson's court after he had received his pension. 'his friend levett, his physician in ordinary, paid his daily visits with assiduity; attended at all hours, made tea all the morning, talked what he had to say, and did not expect an answer; or, if occasion required it, was mute, officious, and ever complying.... there johnson sat every morning, receiving visits, hearing the topics of the day, and indolently trifling away the time. chymistry afforded some amusement.' hawkins (_life_, p. ), says:--'an upper room, which had the advantages of a good light and free air, he fitted up for a study. a silver standish and some useful plate, which he had been prevailed on to accept as pledges of kindness from some who most esteemed him, together with furniture that would not have disgraced a better dwelling, banished those appearances of squalid indigence which, in his less happy days, disgusted those who came to see him.' some of the plate johnson had bought. see _post_, april , . [ ] it is remarkable, that mr. gray has employed somewhat the same image to characterise dryden. he, indeed, furnishes his car with but two horses, but they are of 'ethereal race': 'behold where dryden's less presumptuous car, wide o'er the fields of glory bear two coursers of ethereal race, with necks in thunder cloath'd, and long resounding pace.' _ode on the progress of poesy_. boswell. in the '_life of pope (works_, viii. ) johnson says:--'the style of dryden is capricious and varied; that of pope is cautious and uniform. dryden obeys the motions of his own mind; pope constrains his mind to his own rules of composition. dryden is sometimes vehement and rapid; pope is always smooth, uniform, and gentle.' [ ] in the original _laws or kings_. [ ] 'the mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.' _paradise lost_, i. . 'caelum, non animum, mutant qui trans mare current.' horace, _epis_. i. ii. . see also _ante_, i. . note . [ ] 'i once inadvertently put him,' wrote reynolds, 'in a situation from which none but a man of perfect integrity could extricate himself. i pointed at some lines in _the traveller_ which i told him i was sure he wrote. he hesitated a little; during this hesitation i recollected myself, that, as i knew he would not lie, i put him in a cleft-stick, and should have had but my due if he had given me a rough answer; but he only said, 'sir, i did not write them, but that you may not imagine that i have wrote more than i really have, the utmost i have wrote in that poem, to the best of my recollection, is not more than eighteen lines. [nine seems the actual number.] it must be observed there was then an opinion about town that dr. johnson wrote the whole poem for his friend, who was then in a manner an unknown writer.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . see also _post_, april , . for each line of _the traveller_ goldsmith was paid - / d. (_ante_, i. , note), johnson's present, therefore, of nine lines was, if reckoned in money, worth / - / . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note. [ ] _respublica et status regni hungariae. ex officina elzeviriana_, , p. . this work belongs to the series of _republics_ mentioned by johnson, _post_, under april , . [ ] '"luke" had been taken simply for the euphony of the line. he was one of two brothers, dosa.... the origin of the mistake [of zeck for dosa] is curious. the two brothers belonged to one of the native races of transylvania called szeklers or zecklers, which descriptive addition follows their names in the german biographical authorities; and this, through abridgment and misapprehension, in subsequent books came at last to be substituted for the family name.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . the iron crown was not the worst of the tortures inflicted. [ ] see _post_, april , . in johnson had written (_works_, v. ): 'at a time when so many schemes of education have been projected.... so many schools opened for general knowledge, and so many lectures in particular sciences attended.' goldsmith, in his _life of nash_ (published in ), describes the lectures at bath 'on the arts and sciences which are frequently taught there in a pretty, superficial manner so as not to tease the understanding while they afford the imagination some amusement.' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv . [ ] perhaps gibbon had read this passage at the time when he wrote in his memoirs:--'it has indeed been observed, nor is the observation absurd, that, excepting in experimental sciences which demand a costly apparatus and a dexterous hand, the many valuable treatises that have been published on every subject of learning may now supersede the ancient mode of oral instruction.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . see _post_, march , , note. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] baretti was in italy at the same time as boswell. that they met seems to be shewn by a passage in boswell's letter (_post_, nov. , ). malone wrote of him:--'he appears to be an infidel.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] lord charlemont records (_life_, i. ) that 'mrs. mallet, meeting hume at an assembly, boldly accosted him in these words:--"mr. hume, give me leave to introduce myself to you; we deists ought to know each other." "madame," replied hume, "i am no deist. i do not style myself so, neither do i desire to be known by that appellation."' hume, in or , wrote to dr. blair about the men of letters at paris:--'it would give you and robertson great satisfaction to find that there is not a single deist among them.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . there was no deist, i suppose, because they were all atheists. romilly (_life_, i. ) records the following anecdote, which he had from diderot in :--'hume dìna avec une grande compagnie chez le baron d'holbach. il était assis à côté du baron; on parla de la religion naturelle. "pour les athées," disait hume, "je ne crois pas qu'il en existe; je n'en ai jamais vu." "vous avez été un peu malheureux," répondit l'autre, "vous voici à table avec dix-sept pour la première fois."' it was on the same day that diderot related this that he said to romilly, 'il faut _sabrer_ la théologie.' [ ] 'the inference upon the whole is, that it is not from the value or worth of the object which any person pursues that we can determine his enjoyment; but merely from the passion with which he pursues it, and the success which he meets with in his pursuit. objects have absolutely no worth or value in themselves. they derive their worth merely from the passion. if that be strong and steady and successful, the person is happy. it cannot reasonably be doubted but a little miss, dressed in a new gown for a dancing-school ball, receives as complete enjoyment as the greatest orator, who triumphs in the splendour of his eloquence, while he governs the passions and resolutions of a numerous assembly.' hume's _essays_, i. (_the sceptic_). pope had written in the _essay on man_ (iv. ): 'condition, circumstance, is not the thing; bliss is the same in subject or in king.' see also _post_, april , . [ ] in _boswelliana_, p. , a brief account is given of his life, which was not altogether uneventful. [ ] we may compare with this what he says in _the rambler_, no. , about the 'cowardice which always encroaches fast upon such as spend their time in the company of persons higher than themselves.' in no. he writes:--'it is dangerous for mean minds to venture themselves within the sphere of greatness.' in the court that boswell many years later paid to lord lonsdale, he suffered all the humiliations that the brutality of this petty greatness can inflict. _letters of boswell_, p. . see also _post_, sept. , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) thus sums up his examination of second-sight:--'there is against it, the seeming analogy of things confusedly seen, and little understood; and for it, the indistinct cry of natural persuasion, which may be, perhaps, resolved at last into prejudice and tradition. i never could advance my curiosity to conviction; but came away at last only willing to believe.' see also _post_, march , . hume said of the evidence in favour of second-sight--:'as finite added to finite never approaches a hair's breadth nearer to infinite, so a fact incredible in itself acquires not the smallest accession of probability by the accumulation of testimony.' j. h. burton's hume, i. . [ ] 'i love anecdotes,' said johnson. boswell's _hebridge_, aug. , . boswell said that 'johnson always condemned the word _anecdotes_, as used in the sense that the french, and we from them, use it, as signifying particulars.' _letters of boswell_, p. . in his _dictionary_, he defined '_anecdotes_ something yet unpublished; secret history.' in the fourth edition he added: 'it is now used, after the french, for a biographical incident; a minute passage of private life.' [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] boswell, writing to wilkes in , said:--'though we differ widely in religion and politics, _il y a des points ou nos ames sont animes_, as rouseau said to me in his wild retreat.' almon's _wilkes_, iv. . [ ] rousseau fled from france in . a few days later his arrest was ordered at geneva. he fled from neufchatel in , and soon afterwards he was banished from berne. _nonev. biog. gen., xlii. _. he had come to england with david hume a few weeks before this conversation was held, and was at this time in chiswick. hume's _private corres_., pp. , . [ ] rousseau had by this time published his _nouvelle helloise_ and _emile_. [ ] less than three months after the date of this conversation rousseau wrote to general conway, one of the secretaries of state, thanking him for the pension which george iii proposed secretly to confer on him. hume's _private corres_., p. . miss burney, in her preface to _evelina_, a novel which was her introduction to johnson's strong affection, mentioning rousseau and johnson, adds in a footnote:-- 'however superior the capacities in which these great writers deserve to be considered, they must pardon me that, for the dignity of my subject, i here rank the authors of _rasselas_ and _eloïse_ as novelists.' [ ] rousseau thus wrote of himself: 'dieu est juste; il veut que je souffre; et il sait que je suis innocent. voilà le motif de ma confiance, mon coeur et ma raison me crient qu'elle ne me trompera pas. laissons donc faire les hommes et la destinée; apprenons à souffrir sans murmure; tout doit à la fin rentrer dans fordre, et mon tour viendra tôt ou tard.' rousseau's _works_, xx. . [ ] 'he entertained me very courteously,' wrote boswell in his _corsica_, p. . [ ] in this preference boswell pretended at times to share. see _post_, sept. , . [ ] johnson seems once to have held this view to some extent; for, writing of savage's poem _on public spirit_, he says (_works_, viii. ):--'he has asserted the natural equality of mankind, and endeavoured to suppress that pride which inclines men to imagine that right is the consequence of power.' see also _post_, sept. , , where he asserts:--'it is impossible not to conceive that men in their original state were equal.' for the opposite opinion, see _ante_, june , . [ ] 'qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes.' 'manners and towns of various nations viewed.' francis. horace, _ars poetica_, . . [ ] by the time boswell was twenty-six years old he could boast that he had made the acquaintance of voltaire, rousseau, and paoli among foreigners; and of adam smith, robertson, hume, johnson, goldsmith, garrick, horace walpole, wilkes, and perhaps reynolds, among englishmen. he had twice at least received a letter from the earl of chatham. [ ] in such passages as this we may generally assume that the gentleman, whose name is not given, is boswell himself. see _ante_, i. , and _post_, oct. , . [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's 'collection,' where this assertion is called 'his usual remark.' [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] these two words may be observed as marks of mr. boswell's accuracy. it is a jocular irish phrase, which, of all johnson's acquaintances, no one probably, but goldsmith, would have used.--croker. [ ] see _ante_, may , . [ ] johnson's best justification for the apparent indolences of the latter part of his life may be found in his own words: 'every man of genius has some arts of fixing the attention peculiar to himself, by which, honestly exerted, he may benefit mankind.... to the position of tully, that if virtue could be seen she must be loved, may be added, that if truth could be heard she must be obeyed.' _the rambler_, no. . he fixed the attention best by his talk. for 'the position of tully,' see _post_, march , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, may , . goldsmith wrote _the traveller and deserted village_ on a very different plan. 'to save himself the trouble of transcription, he wrote the lines in his first copy very wide, and would so fill up the intermediate space with reiterated corrections, that scarcely a word of his first effusions was left unaltered.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] mrs. thrale in a letter to dr. johnson, said:--'don't sit making verses that never will be written.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . baretti noted opposite this in the margin of his copy: 'johnson was always making latin or english verses in his mind, but never would write them down.' [ ] burke entered parliament as member for wendover borough on jan. th, . william burke, writing to barry the artist on the following march , says:--'ned's success has exceeded our most sanguine hopes; all at once he has darted into fame. he is full of real business, intent upon doing real good to his country, as much as if he was to receive twenty per cent. from the commerce of the whole empire, which he labours to improve and extend.' barry's _works_, i. . [ ] it was of these speeches that macaulay wrote:--'the house of commons heard pitt for the last time and burke for the first time, and was in doubt to which of them the palm of eloquence should be assigned. it was indeed a splendid sunset and a splendid dawn.' macaulay's _essays_ (edition ), iv. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] boswell has already stated (_ante_, oct. ) that johnson's _shakespeare_ was 'virulently attacked' by kenrick. no doubt there were other attacks and rejoinders too. [ ] two days earlier he had drawn up a prayer on entering _novum museum_. _pr. and med_., p. . [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's collection. [ ] _dictionarium saxonico et gothico-latinum_. london, . lye died in . o. manning completed the work. [ ] see appendix a. [ ] mr. langton's uncle. boswell. [ ] the place of residence of mr. peregrine langton. boswell. [ ] mr. langton did not disregard this counsel, but wrote the following account, which he has been pleased to communicate to me: 'the circumstances of mr. peregrine langton were these. he had an annuity for life of two hundred pounds _per annum_. he resided in a village in lincolnshire; the rent of his house, with two or three small fields, was twenty-eight pounds; the county he lived in was not more than moderately cheap; his family consisted of a sister, who paid him eighteen pounds annually for her board, and a niece. the servants were two maids, and two men in livery. his common way of living, at his table, was three or four dishes; the appurtenances to his table were neat and handsome; he frequently entertained company at dinner, and then his table was well served with as many dishes as were usual at the tables of the other gentlemen in the neighbourhood. his own appearance, as to clothes, was genteelly neat and plain. he had always a post-chaise, and kept three horses. 'such, with the resources i have mentioned, was his way of living, which he did not suffer to employ his whole income: for he had always a sum of money lying by him for any extraordinary expences that might arise. some money he put into the stocks; at his death, the sum he had there amounted to one hundred and fifty pounds. he purchased out of his income his household-furniture and linen, of which latter he had a very ample store; and, as i am assured by those that had very good means of knowing, not less than the tenth part of his income was set apart for charity: at the time of his death, the sum of twenty-five pounds was found, with a direction to be employed in such uses. 'he had laid down a plan of living proportioned to his income, and did not practise any extraordinary degree of parsimony, but endeavoured that in his family there should be plenty without waste; as an instance that this was his endeavour, it may be worth while to mention a method he took in regulating a proper allowance of malt liquor to be drunk in his family, that there might not be a deficiency, or any intemperate profusion: on a complaint made that his allowance of a hogshead in a month, was not enough for his own family, he ordered the quantity of a hogshead to be put into bottles, had it locked up from the servants, and distributed out, every day, eight quarts, which is the quantity each day at one hogshead in a month; and told his servants, that if that did not suffice, he would allow them more; but, by this method, it appeared at once that the allowance was much more than sufficient for his small family; and this proved a clear conviction, that could not be answered, and saved all future dispute. he was, in general, very diligently and punctually attended and obeyed by his servants; he was very considerate as to the injunctions he gave, and explained them distinctly; and, at their first coming to his service, steadily exacted a close compliance with them, without any remission; and the servants finding this to be the case, soon grew habitually accustomed to the practice of their business, and then very little further attention was necessary. on extraordinary instances of good behaviour, or diligent service, he was not wanting in particular encouragements and presents above their wages; it is remarkable that he would permit their relations to visit them, and stay at his house two or three days at a time. 'the wonder, with most that hear an account of his �conomy, will be, how he was able, with such an income, to do so much, especially when it is considered that he paid for everything he had; he had no land, except the two or three small fields which i have said he rented; and, instead of gaining any thing by their produce, i have reason to think he lost by them; however, they furnished him with no further assistance towards his housekeeping, than grass for his horses, (not hay, for that i know he bought,) and for two cows. every monday morning he settled his family accounts, and so kept up a constant attention to the confining his expences within his income; and to do it more exactly, compared those expences with a computation he had made, how much that income would afford him every week and day of the year. one of his �conomical practices was, as soon as any repair was wanting in or about his house, to have it immediately performed. when he had money to spare, he chose to lay in a provision of linen or clothes, or any other necessaries; as then, he said, he could afford it, which he might not be so well able to do when the actual want came; in consequence of which method, he had a considerable supply of necessary articles lying by him, beside what was in use. 'but the main particular that seems to have enabled him to do so much with his income, was, that he paid for every thing as soon as he had it, except, alone, what were current accounts, such as rent for his house and servants� wages; and these he paid at the stated times with the utmost exactness. he gave notice to the tradesmen of the neighbouring market-towns that they should no longer have his custom, if they let any of his servants have anything without their paying for it. thus he put it out of his power to commit those imprudences to which those are liable that defer their payments by using their money some other way than where it ought to go. and whatever money he had by him, he knew that it was not demanded elsewhere, but that he might safely employ it as he pleased. 'his example was confined, by the sequestered place of his abode, to the observation of few, though his prudence and virtue would have made it valuable to all who could have known it. these few particulars, which i knew myself, or have obtained from those who lived with him, may afford instruction, and be an incentive to that wise art of living, which he so successfully practiced.� boswell [ ] of his being in the chair of the literary club, which at this time met once a week in the evening. boswell. see _ante_, feb. , note. [ ] see _post_, feb. , where he told the king that 'he must now read to acquire more knowledge.' [ ] the passage omitted alluded to a private transaction. boswell. [ ] the censure of my latin relates to the dedication, which was as follows: viro nobilissimo, ornatissimo, joanni, vicecomiti mountstuart, atavis edito regibus excelsae famillae de bute spei alterae; labente seculo, quum homines nullius originis genus aequare opibus aggrediuntur, sanguinis antiqui et illustris semper memori, natalium splendorem virtutibus augenti: ad publica populi comitia jam legato; in optimatium vero magn� britanni� senatu, jure h�reditario, olim consessuro: vim insitam varia doctrina promovente, nec tamen se venditante, pr�dito: prisca fide, animo liberrimo, et morum elegantia insigni: in itali� visitand� itinere, socio suo honoratissimo, hasce jurisprudent� primitias devinctissim� amiciti� et observanti� monumentum, d. d. c q. jacobus boswell. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] this alludes to the first sentence of the _proæmium_ of my thesis. 'jurisprudent� studio nullum uberius, nullum generosius: in legibus enim agitandis, populorum mores, variasque fortunæ vices ex quibus leges oriuntur, contemplari simul solemus_' boswell. [ ] 'mr. boswell,' says malone, 'professed the scotch and the english law; but had never taken very great pains on the subject. his father, lord auchinleck, told him one day, that it would cost him more trouble to hide his ignorance in these professions than to show his knowledge. this boswell owned he had found to be true.' _european magazine_, , p. . boswell wrote to temple in :--'you are very kind in saying that i may overtake you in learning. believe me though that i have a kind of impotency of study.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] this is a truth that johnson often enforced. 'very few,' said the poet; 'live by choice: every man is placed in his present condition by causes which acted without his foresight, and with which he did not always willingly co-operate.' _rasselas_, chap. . 'to him that lives well,' answered the hermit, 'every form of life is good; nor can i give any other rule for choice than to remove from all apparent evil.' _ib_, chap. . 'young man,' said omar, 'it is of little use to form plans of life.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] 'hace sunt quae nostra _liceat_ te voce moneri.' _aeneid_, iii. . [ ] the passage omitted explained the transaction to which the preceding letter had alluded. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, june , . [ ] mr. croker says:--'it was by visiting chambers, when a fellow of university college, that johnson became acquainted with lord stowell [at that time william scott]; and when chambers went to india, lord stowell, as he expressed it to me, seemed to succeed to his place in johnson's friendship.' croker's _boswell_, p. , note. john scott (earl of eldon), sir william jones and mr. windham, were also members of university college. the hall is adorned with the portraits of these five men. an engraving of johnson is in the common room. [ ] it is not easy to discover anything noble or even felicitous in this dedication. _works_, v. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] this poem is scarcely johnson's, though all the lines but the third in the following couplets may be his. whose life not sunk in sloth is free from care, nor tost by change, nor stagnant in despair; who with wise authors pass the instructive day and wonder how the moments stole away; who not retired beyond the sight of life behold its weary cares, its noisy strife.' [ ] johnson's additions to these three poems are not at all evident. [ ] in a note to the poem it is stated that miss williams, when, before her blindness, she was assisting mr. grey in his experiments, was the first that observed the emission of the electrical spark from a human body. the best lines are the following:-- now, hoary sage, purse thy happy flight, with swifter motion haste to purer light, where bacon waits with newton and with boyle to hail thy genius, and applaud thy toil; where intuition breaks through time and space, and mocks experiment's successive race; sees tardy science toil at nature's laws, and wonders how th' effect obscures the cause. yet not to deep research or happy guess is owed the life of hope, the death of peace.' [ ] a gentleman, writing from virginia to john wesley, in , about the need of educating the negro slaves in religion, says:--'their masters generally neglect them, as though immortality was not the privilege of their souls in common with their own.' wesley's _journal_, ii. . but much nearer home johnson might have found this criminal enforcement of ignorance. burke, writing in , about the irish, accuses the legislature of 'condemning a million and a half of people to ignorance, according to act of parliament.' burke's _corres_. ii. . [ ] see _post_, march , , and appendix. [ ] johnson said very finely:--'languages are the pedigree of nations.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] the rev. mr. john campbell, minister of the parish of kippen, near stirling, who has lately favoured me with a long, intelligent, and very obliging letter upon this work, makes the following remark:--'dr. johnson has alluded to the worthy man employed in the translation of the new testament. might not this have afforded you an opportunity of paying a proper tribute of respect to the memory of the rev. mr. james stuart, late minister of killin, distinguished by his eminent piety, learning and taste? the amiable simplicity of his life, his warm benevolence, his indefatigable and successful exertions for civilizing and improving the parish of which he was minister for upwards of fifty years, entitle him to the gratitude of his country, and the veneration of all good men. it certainly would be a pity, if such a character should be permitted to sink into oblivion.' boswell. [ ] seven years later johnson received from the society some religious works in erse. see post, june , . yet in his journey to the hebrides, in (works, ix. ), he had to record of the parochial schools in those islands that 'by the rule of their institution they teach _only_ english, so that the natives read a language which they may never use or understand,' [ ] this paragraph shews johnson's real estimation of the character and abilities of the celebrated scottish historian, however lightly, in a moment of caprice, he may have spoken of his works. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] this is the person concerning whom sir john hawkins has thrown out very unwarrantable reflections both against dr. johnson and mr. francis barber. boswell. see _post_, under oct. , . in , heely, it appears, applied through johnson for the post that was soon to be vacant of 'master of the tap' at ranelagh house. 'he seems,' wrote johnson, in forwarding his letter of application, 'to have a genius for an alehouse.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see also _post_, aug. , . [ ] see an account of him in the _european magazine_, jan. . boswell. there we learn that he was in his time a grammar-school usher, actor, poet, the puffing partner in a quack medicine, and tutor to a youthful earl. he was suspected of levying blackmail by threats of satiric publications, and he suffered from a disease which rendered him an object almost offensive to sight. he was born in or , and died in . [ ] it was republished in _the repository_, ii. , edition of . [ ] the hon. thomas hervey, whose _letter to sir thomas hanmer_ in was much read at that time. he was the second son of john, first earl of bristol, and one of the brothers of johnson's early friend henry hervey. he died jan. , . malone. see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, under sept. , , for another story told by beauclerk against johnson of a mr. hervey. [ ] essays published in the _daily gazetteer_ and afterwards collected into two vols. _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] mr. croker regrets that johnson employed his pen for hire in hervey's 'disgusting squabbles,' and in a long note describes hervey's letter to sir thomas hanmer with whose wife he had eloped. but the attack to which johnson was hired to reply was not made by hanmer, but, as was supposed, by sir c. h. williams. because a man has wronged another, he is not therefore to submit to the attacks of a third. williams, moreover, it must be remembered, was himself a man of licentious character. [ ] buckingham house, bought in , by george iii, and settled on queen charlotte. the present buckingham palace occupies the site. p. cunningham. here, according to hawkins (_life_, p. ), johnson met the prince of wales (george iv.) when a child, 'and enquired as to his knowledge of the scriptures; the prince in his answers gave him great satisfaction.' horace walpole, writing of the prince at the age of nineteen, says (_journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. ):--'nothing was coarser than his conversation and phrases; and it made men smile to find that in the palace of piety and pride his royal highness had learnt nothing but the dialect of footmen and grooms.' [ ] dr. johnson had the honour of contributing his assistance towards the formation of this library; for i have read a long letter from him to mr. barnard, giving the most masterly instructions on the subject. i wished much to have gratified my readers with the perusal of this letter, and have reason to think that his majesty would have been graciously pleased to permit its publication; but mr. barnard, to whom i applied, declined it 'on his own account.' boswell. it is given in mr. croker's edition, p. . [ ] the particulars of this conversation i have been at great pains to collect with the utmost authenticity from dr. johnson's own detail to myself; from mr. langton who was present when he gave an account of it to dr. joseph warton, and several other friends, at sir joshua reynolds's; from mr. barnard; from the copy of a letter written by the late mr. strahan the printer, to bishop warburton; and from a minute, the original of which is among the papers of the late sir james caldwell, and a copy of which was most obligingly obtained for me from his son sir john caldwell, by sir francis lumm. to all these gentlemen i beg leave to make my grateful acknowledgements, and particularly to sir francis lumm, who was pleased to take a great deal of trouble, and even had the minute laid before the king by lord caermarthen, now duke of leeds, then one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state, who announced to sir francis the royal pleasure concerning it by a letter, in these words: 'i have the king's commands to assure you, sir, how sensible his majesty is of your attention in communicating the minute of the conversation previous to its publication. as there appears no objection to your complying with mr. boswell's wishes on the subject, you are at full liberty to deliver it to that gentleman, to make such use of in his _life of dr. johnson_, as he may think proper.' boswell. in , boswell published in a quarto sheet of eight pages _a conversation between his most sacred majesty george iii. and samuel johnson, lld. illustrated with observations. by james boswell, esq. london. printed by henry baldwin, for charles dilly in the poultry. mdccxc. price half-a-guinea. entered in the hall-book of the company of stationers_. it is of the same impression as the first edition of _the life of johnson_. [ ] after michaelmas, . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, may, , , note. [ ] writing to langton, on may , of the year before he had said, 'i read more than i did. i hope something will yet come on it.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell and goldsmith had in like manner urged him 'to continue his labours.' see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] johnson had written to lord chesterfield in the _plan of his dictionary_ (_works_, v. ), 'ausonius thought that modesty forbade him to plead inability for a task to which caesar had judged him equal:--_cur me posse negem posse quod ille pufat_?' we may compare also a passage in mme. d'arblay's _diary_ (ii. ):--'the king. "i believe there is no constraint to be put upon real genius; nothing but inclination can set it to work. miss burney, however, knows best." and then hastily returning to me he cried; "what? what?" "no, sir, i--i--believe not, certainly," quoth i, very awkwardly, for i seemed taking a violent compliment only as my due; but i knew not how to put him off as i would another person.' [ ] in one part of the character of pope (_works_, viii. ), johnson seems to be describing himself:--'he certainly was in his early life a man of great literary curiosity; and when he wrote his _essay on criticism_ had for his age a very wide acquaintance with books. when he entered into the living world, it seems to have happened to him as to many others, that he was less attentive to dead masters; he studied in the academy of paracelsus, and made the universe his favourite volume.... his frequent references to history, his allusions to various kinds of knowledge, and his images selected from art and nature, with his observations on the operations of the mind and the modes of life, show an intelligence perpetually on the wing, excursive, vigorous, and diligent, eager to pursue knowledge, and attentive to retain it.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson thus describes warburton (_works_, viii. ):--'about this time [ ] warburton began to make his appearance in the first ranks of learning. he was a man of vigorous faculties, a mind fervid and vehement, supplied by incessant and unlimited enquiry, with wonderful extent and variety of knowledge.' cradock (_memoirs_, i. ) says that 'bishop kurd always wondered where it was possible for warburton to meet with certain anecdotes with which not only his conversation, but likewise his writings, abounded. "i could have readily informed him," said mrs. warburton, "for, when we passed our winters in london, he would often, after his long and severe studies, send out for a whole basketful of books from the circulating libraries; and at times i have gone into his study, and found him laughing, though alone."' lord macaulay was, in this respect, the warburton of our age. [ ] the rev. mr. strahan clearly recollects having been told by johnson, that the king observed that pope made warburton a bishop. 'true, sir, (said johnson,) but warburton did more for pope; he made him a christian:' alluding, no doubt, to his ingenious comments on the _essay on man_. boswell. the statements both of the king and johnson are supported by two passages in johnson's _life of pope_, (_works_, viii. , ). he says of warburton's comments:--'pope, who probably began to doubt the tendency of his own work, was glad that the positions, of which he perceived himself not to know the full meaning, could by any mode of interpretation be made to mean well.... from this time pope lived in the closest intimacy with his commentator, and amply rewarded his kindness and his zeal; for he introduced him to mr. murray, by whose interest he became preacher at lincoln's inn; and to mr. allen, who gave him his niece and his estate, and by consequence a bishoprick.' see also the account given by johnson, in boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . bishop law in his revised preface to archbishop king's _origin of evil_ ( ), p. xvii, writes:--'i had now the satisfaction of seeing that those very principles which had been maintained by archbishop king were adopted by mr. pope in his essay on man; this i used to recollect, and sometimes relate, with pleasure, conceiving that such an account did no less honour to the poet than to our philosopher; but was soon made to understand that anything of that kind was taken highly amiss by one [warburton] who had once held the doctrine of that same essay to be rank atheism, but afterwards turned a warm advocate for it, and thought proper to deny the account above-mentioned, with heavy menaces against those who presumed to insinuate that pope borrowed anything from any man whatsoever.' see _post_, oct. , . [ ] in gibbon's _memoirs_, a fine passage is quoted from lowth's defence of the university of oxford, against warburton's reproaches. 'i transcribe with pleasure this eloquent passage,' writes gibbon, 'without inquiring whether in this angry controversy the spirit of lowth himself is purified from the intolerant zeal which warburton had ascribed to the genius of the place.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson says that lyttelton 'in his _history_ wrote the most vulgar whiggism,' and april , . gibbon, who had reviewed it this year, says in his _memoirs_ (_misc. works_, i. ): 'the public has ratified my judgment of that voluminous work, in which sense and learning are not illuminated by a ray of genius.' [ ] hawkins says of him (_life_, p. ):--'he obtained from one of those universities which would scarce refuse a degree to an apothecary's horse a diploma for that of doctor of physic.' he became a great compiler and in one year earned £ . in the end he turned quack-doctor. he was knighted by the king of sweden 'in return for a present to that monarch of his _vegetable system_.' he at least thrice attacked garrick (murphy's _garrick_, pp. , , ), who replied with three epigrams, of which the last is well-known:-- 'for farces and physic his equal there scarce is; his farces are physic, his physic a farce is.' horace walpole (_letters_ iii. ), writing on jan. , , said:--'would you believe, what i know is fact, that dr. hill earned fifteen guineas a week by working for wholesale dealers? he was at once employed on six voluminous works of botany, husbandry, &c., published weekly.' churchill in the rescind thus writes of him:-- 'who could so nobly grace the motley list, actor, inspector, doctor, botanist? knows any one so well--sure no one knows-- at once to play, prescribe, compound, compose?' churchill's _poems_, i. . in the _gent. mag_. xxii. , it is stated that he had acted pantomime, tragedy and comedy, and had been damned in all. [ ] mr. croker quotes bishop elrington, who says, 'dr. johnson was unjust to hill, and showed that _he_ did not understand the subject.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , i. ) says that 'hill, once when he fell sick, owned to a friend that he had over-fatigued himself with writing seven works at once, one of which was on architecture and another on cookery.' d'israeli adds that hill contracted to translate a dutch work on insects for fifty guineas. as he was ignorant of the language, he bargained with another translator for twenty-five guineas. this man, who was equally ignorant, rebargained with a third, who perfectly understood his original, for twelve guineas. [ ] gibbon (_misc. works_, v. ), writing on dec. , , of the _journal des savans_, says:--'i can hardly express how much i am delighted with this journal; its characteristics are erudition, precision, and taste.... the father of all the rest, it is still their superior.... there is nothing to be wished for in it but a little more boldness and philosophy; but it is published under the chancellor's eye.' [ ] goldsmith, in his _present state of polite learning_ (ch. xi.), published in , says;--'we have two literary reviews in london, with critical newspapers and magazines without number. the compilers of these resemble the commoners of rome, they are all for levelling property, not by increasing their own, but by diminishing that of others.... the most diminutive son of fame or of famine has his _we_ and his _us_, his _firstlys_ and his _secondlys_, as methodical as if bound in cow-hide and closed with clasps of brass. were these monthly reviews and magazines frothy, pert, or absurd, they might find some pardon, but to be dull and dronish is an encroachment on the prerogative of a folio.' [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] mr. white, the librarian of the royal society, has, at my request, kindly examined the records of the royal society, but has not been able to discover what the 'circumstance' was. neither is any light thrown on it by johnson's reviews of birch's _history of the royal society_ and _philosophical transactions_, vol. xlix. (_ante_, i. ), which i have examined. [ ] 'were you to converse with a king, you ought to be as easy and unembarrassed as with your own valet-de-chambre; but yet every look, word, and action should imply the utmost respect. what would be proper and well-bred with others much your superior, would be absurd and ill-bred with one so very much so.' chesterfield's _letters_, iii. . [ ] imlac thus described to rasselas his interview with the great mogul:--'the emperor asked me many questions concerning my country and my travels; and though i cannot now recollect anything that he uttered above the power of a common man, he dismissed me astonished at his wisdom, and enamoured of his goodness.' _rasselas_, chap. ix. wraxall (_memoirs_, edit. of , i. ) says that johnson was no judge of a fine gentleman. 'george iii,' he adds, 'was altogether destitute of these ornamental and adventitious endowments.' he mentions 'the oscillations of his body, the precipitation of his questions, none of which, it was said, would wait for an answer, and the hurry of his articulation.' mr. wheatley, in a note on this passage, quotes the opinion of 'adams, the american envoy, who said, the "king is, i really think, the most accomplished courtier in his dominions."' [ ] 'dr. warton made me a most obsequious bow.... he is what dr. johnson calls a rapturist, and i saw plainly he meant to pour forth much civility into my ears. he is a very communicative, gay, and pleasant converser, and enlivened the whole day by his readiness upon all subjects.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . it is very likely that he is 'the ingenious writer' mentioned _post_, , in mr. langton's 'collection,' of whom johnson said, 'sir, he is an enthusiast by rule.' mr. windham records that johnson, speaking of warton's admiration of fine passages, said:--'his taste is amazement' (misprinted _amusement_). windham's _diary_, p. . in her _memoirs of dr. burney_ (ii. ), mme. d'arblay says that johnson 'at times, when in gay spirits, would take off dr. warton with the strongest humour; describing, almost convulsively, the ecstasy with which he would seize upon the person nearest to him, to hug in his arms, lest his grasp should be eluded, while he displayed some picture or some prospect.' in that humourous piece, _probationary odes for the laureateship_ (p. xliii), dr. joseph is made to hug his brother in his arms, when he sees him descend safely from the balloon in which he had composed his _ode_. thomas warton is described in the same piece (p. ) as 'a little, thick, squat, red-faced man.' there was for some time a coolness between johnson and dr. warton. warton, writing on jan. , , says:--'i only dined with johnson, who seemed cold and indifferent, and scarce said anything to me; perhaps he has heard what i said of his _shakespeare_, or rather was offended at what i wrote to him--as he pleases.' wooll's _warton_, p. . wooll says that a dispute took place between the two men at reynolds's house. 'one of the company overheard the following conclusion of the dispute. johnson. "sir, i am not used to be contradicted." warton. "better for yourself and friends, sir, if you were; our admiration could not be increased, but our love might."' _ib_ p. . [ ] _the good-natured man_, _post_ p. . [ ] 'it has been said that the king only sought one interview with dr. johnson. there was nothing to complain of; it was a compliment paid by rank to letters, and once was enough. the king was more afraid of this interview than dr. johnson was; and went to it as a schoolboy to his task. but he did not want to have the trial repeated every day, nor was it necessary. the very jealousy of his self-love marked his respect; and if he thought the less of dr. johnson, he would have been more willing to risk the encounter.' hazlitt's _conversations of northcote_, p. . it should seem that johnson had a second interview with the king thirteen years later. in , hannah more records (_memoirs_, i. ):--'johnson told me he had been with the king that morning, who enjoined him to add spenser to his _lives of the poets_.' it is strange that, so far as i know, this interview is not mentioned by any one else. it is perhaps alluded to, _post_, dec., , when mr. nichols told johnson that he wished 'he would gratify his sovereign by a _life of spenser_.' [ ] it is proper here to mention, that when i speak of his correspondence, i consider it independent of the voluminous collection of letters which, in the course of many years, he wrote to mrs. thrale, which forms a separate part of his works; and as a proof of the high estimation set on any thing which came from his pen, was sold by that lady for the sum of five hundred pounds. boswell. [ ] he was away from the london 'near six months.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] on august he recorded:--'i have communicated with kitty, and kissed her. i was for some time distracted, but at last more composed. i commended my friends, and kitty, lucy, and i were much affected. kitty is, i think, going to heaven.' _pr. and med., p. _. [ ] _pr. and med_., pp. and . boswell. [ ] _pr. and med_., p. . boswell. on aug. , he recorded:--'by abstinence from wine and suppers i obtained sudden and great relief, and had freedom of mind restored to me, which i have wanted for all this year, without being able to find any means of obtaining it.' _ib_ p. . [ ] hawkins, in his second edition (p. ) assigns it to campbell, 'who,' he says, 'as well for the malignancy of his heart as his terrific countenance, was called horrible campbell.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] the book is as dull as it is indecent. the 'drollery' is of the following kind. johnson is represented as saying:--'without dubiety you misapprehend this dazzling scintillation of conceit in totality, and had you had that constant recurrence to my oraculous dictionary which was incumbent upon you from the vehemence of my monitory injunctions,' &c. p. . [ ] _pr. and med_., p. . boswell. 'this day,' he wrote on his birthday, 'has been passed in great perturbation; i was distracted at church in an uncommon degree, and my distress has had very little intermission.... this day it came into my mind to write the history of my melancholy. on this i purpose to deliberate; i know not whether it may not too much disturb me.' see _post_, april , . [ ] it is strange that boswell nowhere quotes the lines in _the good-natured man_, in which paoli is mentioned. 'that's from paoli of corsica,' said lofty. act v. sc. i. [ ] in the original, 'pressed _by_.' boswell, in thus changing the preposition, forgot what johnson says in his _plan of an english dictionary_ (_works_, v. ):--'we say, according to the present modes of speech, the soldier died _of_ his wounds, and the sailor perished _with_ hunger; and every man acquainted with our language would be offended with a change of these particles, which yet seem originally assigned by chance.' [ ] boswell, writing to temple on march , says:--'my book has amazing celebrity; lord lyttelton, mr. walpole, mrs. macaulay, and mr. garrick have all written me noble letters about it. there are two dutch translations going forward.' _letters of boswell_, p. . it met with a rapid sale. a third edition was called for within a year. dilly, the publisher, must have done very well by it, as he purchased the copyright for one hundred guineas. _ib_, p. . 'pray read the new account of corsica,' wrote horace walpole to gray on feb. , (_letters_, v. ). 'the author is a strange being, and has a rage of knowing everybody that ever was talked of. he forced himself upon me at paris in spite of my teeth and my doors.' to this gray replied:--'mr. boswell's book has pleased and moved me strangely; all, i mean, that relates to paoli. he is a man born two thousand years after his time! the pamphlet proves, what i have always maintained, that any fool may write a most valuable book by chance, if he will only tell us what he heard and saw with veracity.' in _the letters of boswell_ (p. ) there is the following under date of nov. , :--'i am always for fixing some period for my perfection, as far as possible. let it be when my account of _corsica_ is published; i shall then have a character which i must support.' in april of the following year, a few weeks after the book had come out, he writes:--'to confess to you at once, temple, i have since my last coming to town been as wild as ever.' (p. .) [ ] boswell used to put notices of his movements in the newspapers, such as--'james boswell, esq., is expected in town.' _public advertiser_, feb. , . 'yesterday james boswell, esq., arrived from scotland at his lodgings in half-moon street, piccadilly.' _ib_ march , . prior's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] johnson was very ill during this visit. mrs. thrale had at the same time given birth to a daughter, and had been nursed by her mother. his thoughts, therefore, were turned on illness. writing to mrs. thrale, he says:--'to roll the weak eye of helpless anguish, and see nothing on any side but cold indifference, will, i hope, happen to none whom i love or value; it may tend to withdraw the mind from life, but has no tendency to kindle those affections which fit us for a purer and a nobler state.... these reflections do not grow out of any discontent at c's [chambers's] behaviour; he has been neither negligent nor troublesome; nor do i love him less for having been ill in his house. this is no small degree of praise.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note. [ ] the editor of the _letters of boswell_ justly says (p. ):--'the detail in the _life of johnson_ is rather scanty about this period; dissipation, the _history of corsica_, wife-hunting, ... interfered perhaps at this time with boswell's pursuit of dr. johnson.' [ ] see _boswell's_ hebrides, aug. , , for a discussion of the same question. lord eldon has recorded (_life_, i. ), that when he first went the northern circuit (about - ), he asked jack lee (_post_, march , ), who was not scrupulous in his advocacy, whether his method could be justified. 'oh, yes,' he said, 'undoubtedly. dr. johnson had said that counsel were at liberty to state, as the parties themselves would state, what it was most for their interest to state.' after some interval, and when he had had his evening bowl of milk punch and two or three pipes of tobacco, he suddenly said, 'come, master scott, let us go to bed. i have been thinking upon the questions that you asked me, and i am not quite so sure that the conduct you represented will bring a man peace at the last.' lord eldon, after stating pretty nearly what johnson had said, continues:--'but it may be questioned whether even this can be supported.' [ ] garrick brought out hugh kelly's _false delicacy_ at drury lane six days before goldsmith's _good-natured man_ was brought out at covent garden. 'it was the town talk,' says mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, ii. ), some weeks before either performance took place, 'that the two comedies were to be pitted against each other.' _false delicacy_ had a great success. ten thousand copies of it were sold before the season closed. (_ib_ p. .) 'garrick's prologue to _false delicacy_,' writes murphy (_life of garrick_, p. ), 'promised a moral and sentimental comedy, and with an air of pleasantry called it a sermon in five acts. the critics considered it in the same light, but the general voice was in favour of the play during a run of near twenty nights. foote, at last, by a little piece called _piety in pattens_, brought that species of composition into disrepute.' it is recorded in johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , that when some one asked johnson whether they should introduce hugh kelly to him, 'no, sir,' says he, 'i never desire to converse with a man who has written more than he has read.' see _post_, beginning of . [ ] _the provoked husband, or a journey to london_, by vanbrugh and colley cibber. it was brought out in - . see _post_, june , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] april , , and april , . [ ] richardson, writing on dec. , , to miss fielding, about her familiar letters, says:--'what a knowledge of the human heart! well might a critical judge of writing say, as he did to me, that your late brother's knowledge of it was not (fine writer as he was) comparable to yours. his was but as the knowledge of the outside of a clock-work machine, while yours was that of all the finer springs and movements of the inside.' _richardson corres_. ii. . mrs. calderwood, writing of her visit to the low countries in , says:--'all richison's [richardson's] books are translated, and much admired abroad; but for fielding's the foreigners have no notion of them, and do not understand them, as the manners are so entirely english.' _letters, &c., of mrs. calderwood_, p. [ ] in _the provoked husband_, act iv. sc. . [ ] by dr. hoadley, brought out in . 'this was the first good comedy from the time of _the provoked husband_ in .' murphy's _garrick_, p. . [ ] madame riccoboni, writing to garrick from paris on sept. , , says:--'on ne supporterait point ici l'indécence de ranger. les trèsindécens françaisdeviennent délicats sur leur théâtre, à mesure qu'ils le sont moins dans leur conduite.' _garrick's corres_. ii. . [ ] 'the question in dispute was as to the heirship of mr. archibald douglas. if he were really the son of lady jane douglas, he would inherit large family estates; but if he were supposititious, then they would descend to the duke of hamilton. the judges of the court of session had been divided in opinion, eight against seven, the lord president dundas giving the casting vote in favour of the duke of hamilton; and in consequence of it he and several other of the judges had, on the reversal by the lords, their houses attacked by a mob. it is said, but not upon conclusive authority, that boswell himself headed the mob which broke his own father's windows.' _letters of boswell_, p. . see _post_, april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. - , . mr. j. h. burton, in his _life of hume_ (ii. ), says:--'men about to meet each other in company used to lay an injunction on themselves not to open their lips on the subject, so fruitful was it in debates and brawls.' boswell, according to the bodleian catalogue, was the author of _dorando, a spanish tale_, . in this tale the douglas cause is narrated under the thinnest disguise. it is reviewed in the _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] see _post_, under april , , march , , and june , . [ ] revd. kenneth macaulay. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . he was the great-uncle of lord macaulay. [ ] martin, in his _st. kilda_ (p. ), had stated that the people of st. kilda 'are seldom troubled with a cough, except at the steward's landing. i told them plainly,' he continues, 'that i thought all this notion of infection was but a mere fancy, at which they seemed offended, saying, that never any before the minister and myself was heard to doubt of the truth of it, which is plainly demonstrated upon the landing of every boat.' the usual 'infected cough,' came, he says, upon his visit. macaulay (_history of st. kilda_, p. ) says that he had gone to the island a disbeliever, but that by eight days after his arrival all the inhabitants were infected with this disease. see also _post_, march, , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] _post_, march , . [ ] this is not the case. martin (p. ) says that the only landing place is inaccessible except under favour of a neap tide, a north-east or west wind, or with a perfect calm. he himself was rowed to st. kilda, 'the inhabitants admiring to see us get thither contrary to the wind and tide' (p. ). [ ] that for one kind of learning oxford has no advantages, he shows in a letter that he wrote there on aug. , . 'i shall inquire,' he says, 'about the harvest when i come into a region where anything necessary to life is understood.' _piozzi letters_, i. . at lichfield he reached that region. 'my barber, a man not unintelligent, speaks magnificently of the harvest;' _ib_ p. . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] the advancement had been very rapid. 'when dr. robertson's career commenced,' writes dugald stewart in his _life_ of that historian (p. ), 'the trade of authorship was unknown in scotland.' smollet, in _humphry clinker_, published three years after this conversation, makes mr. bramble write (letter of aug. ):--'edinburgh is a hot-bed of genius. i have had the good fortune to be made acquainted with many authors of the first distinction; such as the two humes [david hume and john home, whose names had the same pronunciation], robertson, smith, wallace, blair, ferguson, wilkie, &c.' to these might be added smollett himself, boswell, reid, beattie, kames, monboddo. henry mackenzie and dr. henry began to publish in . gibbon, writing to robertson in , says:--'i have often considered with some sort of envy the valuable society which you possess in so narrow a compass.' stewart's _robertson_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson owned that he had not read hume. j.h. burton (_life of hume_, ii. ), after stating that 'hume was the first to add to a mere narrative of events an enquiry into the progress of the people, &c.,' says:--'there seems to be no room for the supposition that he had borrowed the idea from voltaire's _essai sur les moeurs_. hume's own _political discourses_ are as close an approach to this method of inquiry as the work of voltaire; and if we look for such productions of other writers as may have led him into this train of thought, it would be more just to name bacon and montesquieu.' [ ] see _post_, may and , . [ ] see _post_, april , , april , , and oct. , . [ ] _an essay on the future life of brutes_. by richard dean, curate of middleton, manchester, . the 'part of the scriptures' on which the author chiefly relies is the _epistle to the romans_, viii. - . he also finds support for his belief in 'those passages in _isaiah_ where the prophet speaks of new heavens, and a new earth, of the lion as eating straw like the ox, &c.' vol. ii. pp. x, . [ ] the words that addison's cato uses as he lays his hand on his sword. act v. sc. . [ ] i should think it impossible not to wonder at the variety of johnson's reading, however desultory it may have been. who could have imagined that the high church of england-man would be so prompt in quoting _maupertuis_, who, i am sorry to think, stands in the list of those unfortunate mistaken men, who call themselves _esprits forts_. i have, however, a high respect for that philosopher whom the great frederick of prussia loved and honoured, and addressed pathetically in one of his poems,-- 'maupertuis, cher maupertuis, que notre vie est peu de chose!' there was in maupertuis a vigour and yet a tenderness of sentiment, united with strong intellectual powers, and uncommon ardour of soul. would he had been a christian! i cannot help earnestly venturing to hope that he is one now. boswell. voltaire writing to d'alembert on aug. , , says:--'que dites-vous de maupertuis, mort entre deux capucins?' voltaire's _works_, lxii. . the stanza from which boswell quotes is as follows:-- 'o maupertuis, cher maupertuis, que notre vie est peu de chose! cette fleur, qui brille aujourd'hui demain se fane à peine éclose; tout périt, tout est emporté par la dure fatalité des arrtês de la destinée; votre vertu, vos grands talents ne pourront obtenir du temps le seul délai d'une journée.' _la vie est un songe. euvres de frédéric ii (edit. ), x. . [ ] johnson does not give _conglobulate_ in his _dictionary_; only _conglobe_. if he used the word it is not likely that he said 'conglobulate _together_.' [ ] gilbert white, writing on nov. , , after mentioning that he had seen swallows roosting in osier-beds by the river, says:--'this seems to give some countenance to the northern opinion (strange as it is) of their retiring under water.' white's _selborne_, letter xii. see also _post_, may , . [ ] _travels from st. petersburgh in russia to divers parts of asia_. by john bell, glasgow, : to. vols. [ ] i. d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , i. ) ranks this book among literary impostures. 'du halde never travelled ten leagues from paris in his life; though he appears by his writings to be familiar with chinese scenery.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] boswell, in his correspondence with temple in and , passes in review the various ladies whom he proposes to marry. the lady described in this paragraph--for the 'gentleman' is clearly boswell--is 'the fair and lively zelide,' a dutch-woman. she was translating his _corsica_ into french. on march , , he wrote, 'i must have her.' on april , he asked his father's permission to go over to holland to see her. but on may he forwarded to temple one of her letters. 'could,' he said, 'any actress at any of the theatres attack me with a keener--what is the word? not fury, something softer. the lightning that flashes with so much brilliance may scorch, and does not her esprit do so?' _letters of boswell_, pp. - . [ ] in the original it is _some_ not _many_. johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] _an account of the manners and customs of italy_, by joseph baretti, london, . the book would be still more entertaining were it not written as a reply to sharp's _letters on italy_. _post_ under april , . [ ] mrs. piozzi wrote of him: 'his character is easily seen, and his soul above disguise, haughty and insolent, and breathing defiance against all mankind; while his powers of mind exceed most people's, and his powers of purse are so slight that they leave him dependent on all. baretti is for ever in the state of a stream damned up; if he could once get loose, he would bear down all before him.' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . [ ] according to hawkins (_life_, p. ), the watch was new this year, and was, he believed, the first johnson ever had. [ ] _st. john_, ix. . in _pr. and med_., p. , is the following:--'ejaculation imploring diligence. "o god, make me to remember that the night cometh when no man can work."' porson, in his witty attack on sir john hawkins, originally published in the _gent. mag_. for , quotes the inscription as a proof of hawkins's greek. '_nux gar erchetai_. the meaning is (says sir john) _for the night cometh_. and so it is, mr. urban.' porson _tracts_, p. . [ ] he thus wrote of himself from oxford to mrs. thrale:--'this little dog does nothing, but i hope he will mend; he is now reading _jack the giant-killer_. perhaps so noble a narrative may rouse in him the soul of enterprise.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. [ ] under the same date, boswell thus begins a letter to temple:--'your moral lecture came to me yesterday in very good time, while i lay suffering severely for immorality. if there is any firmness at all in me, be assured that i shall never again behave in a manner so unworthy the friend of paoli. my warm imagination looks forward with great complacency on the sobriety, the healthfulness, and the worth of my future life.' _letters of boswell_, p. [ ] johnson so early as aug. , , had given him the same advice (_ante_, ii. ). how little boswell followed it is shewn by his letter to the earl of chatham, on april , , in which he informed him of his intention to publish his _corsica_, and concluded:--'could your lordship find time to honour me now and then with a letter? i have been told how favourably your lordship has spoken of me. to correspond with a paoli and with a chatham is enough to keep a young man ever ardent in the pursuit of virtuous fame.' _chatham corres_., iii. . on the same day on which he wrote to johnson, he said in a letter to temple, 'old general oglethorpe, who has come to see me, and is with me often, just on account of my book, bids me not marry till i have first put the corsicans in a proper situation. "you may make a fortune in the doing of it," said he; "or, if you do not, you will have acquired such a character as will entitle you to any fortune."' _letters of boswell_, p. . four months later, boswell wrote:--'by a private subscription in scotland, i am sending this week £ worth of ordnance [to corsica] ... it is really a tolerable train of artillery.' _ib_ p. . in he brought out a small volume entitled _british essays in favour of the brave corsicans. by several hands_. collected and published by james boswell, esq. [ ] from about the beginning of the fourteenth century, corsica had belonged to the republic of genoa. in the great rising under paoli, the corsicans would have achieved their independence, had not genoa ceded the island to the crown of france. [ ] boswell, writing to temple on may of this year, says:--'i am really the _great man_ now. i have had david hume in the forenoon, and mr. johnson in the afternoon of the same day, visiting me. sir j. pringle and dr. franklin dined with me to-day; and mr. johnson and general oglethorpe one day, mr. garrick alone another, and david hume and some more _literati_ another, dine with me next week. i give admirable dinners and good claret; and the moment i go abroad again, which will be in a day or two, i set up my chariot. this is enjoying the fruit of my labours, and appearing like the friend of paoli.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , , and may , . [ ] the talk arose no doubt from the general election that had just been held amid all the excitement about wilkes. dr. franklin (_memoirs_, iii. ), in a letter dated april , , describes the riots in london. he had seen 'the mob requiring gentlemen and ladies of all ranks as they passed in their carriages, to shout for wilkes and liberty, marking the same words on all their coaches with chalk, and no. on every door. i went last week to winchester, and observed that for fifteen miles out of town there was scarce a door or window shutter next the road unmarked; and this continued here and there quite to winchester.' [ ] in his _vindication of the licensers of the stage_, he thus writes:--'if i might presume to advise them [the ministers] upon this great affair, i should dissuade them from any direct attempt upon the liberty of the press, which is the darling of the common people, and therefore cannot be attacked without immediate danger.' _works_, v. . on p. of the same volume, he shows some of the benefits that arise in england from 'the boundless liberty with which every man may write his own thoughts.' see also in his _life of milton_, the passage about _areopagitica_, _ib_ vii. . the liberty of the press was likely to be 'a constant topic.' horace walpole (_memoirs of the reign of george iii_, ii. ), writing of the summer of , says:--'two hundred informations were filed against printers; a larger number than had been prosecuted in the whole thirty-three years of the last reign.' [ ] 'the sun has risen, and the corn has grown, and, whatever talk has been of the danger of property, yet he that ploughed the field commonly reaped it, and he that built a house was master of the door; the vexation excited by injustice suffered, or supposed to be suffered, by any private man, or single community, was local and temporary; it neither spread far nor lasted long.' johnson's _works_, vi. . see also _post_, march , . dr. franklin (_memoirs_, iii. ) wrote to the abbé morellet, on april , :--'nothing can be better expressed than your sentiments are on this point, where you prefer liberty of trading, cultivating, manufacturing, &c., even to civil liberty, this being affected but rarely, the other every hour.' [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] see _ante_, oct. . [ ] 'i was diverted with paoli's english library. it consisted of:--some broken volumes of the _spectatour_ and _tatler_; pope's _essay on man_; _gulliver's travels_; a _history of france_ in old english; and barclay's _apology for the quakers_. i promised to send him some english books... i have sent him some of our best books of morality and entertainment, in particular the works of mr. samuel johnson.' boswell's _corsica_, p. . [ ] johnson, as boswell believed, only once 'in the whole course of his life condescended to oppose anything that was written against him.' (see _ante_, i. .) in this he followed the rule of bentley and of boerhaave. 'it was said to old bentley, upon the attacks against him, "why, they'll write you down." "no, sir," he replied; "depend upon it, no man was ever written down but by himself."' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . bentley shewed prudence in his silence. 'he was right,' johnson said, 'not to answer; for, in his hazardous method of writing, he could not but be often enough wrong.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . 'boerhaave was never soured by calumny and detraction, nor ever thought it necessary to confute them; "for they are sparks," said he, "which, if you do not blow them, will go out of themselves."' johnson's _works_, vi. . swift, in his _lines on censure_ which begin,-- 'ye wise instruct me to endure an evil which admits no cure.' ends by saying:-- 'the most effectual way to baulk their malice is--to let them talk.' swift's _works_, xi. . young, in his _second epistle to pope_, had written:-- 'armed with this truth all critics i defy; for if i fall, by my own pen i die.' hume, in his _auto_. (p. ix.) says:--'i had a fixed resolution, which i inflexibly maintained, never to reply to any body.' this is not quite true. see j. h. burton's _life of hume_, ii. , for an instance of a violent reply. the following passages in johnson's writings are to the same effect:--'i am inclined to believe that few attacks either of ridicule or invective make much noise, but by the help of those that they provoke.' _piozzi letters_ ii. . 'it is very rarely that an author is hurt by his critics. the blaze of reputation cannot be blown out, but it often dies in the socket.' _ib_ p. . 'the writer who thinks his works formed for duration mistakes his interest when he mentions his enemies. he degrades his own dignity by shewing that he was affected by their censures, and gives lasting importance to names, which, left to themselves would vanish from remembrance.' johnson's _works_, vii. . 'if it had been possible for those who were attacked to conceal their pain and their resentment, the _dunciad_ might have made its way very slowly in the world.' _ib_ viii. . hawkins (_life of johnson_, p. ) says that, 'against personal abuse johnson was ever armed by a reflection that i have heard him utter:--"alas! reputation would be of little worth, were it in the power of every concealed enemy to deprive us of it."' in his _parl. debates_ (_works_, x. ), johnson makes mr. lyttelton say:--'no man can fall into contempt but those who deserve it.' addison in _the freeholder_, no. , says, that 'there is not a more melancholy object in the learned world than a man who has written himself down.' see also boswell's _hebrides_, near the end. [ ] barber had entered johnson's service in (_ante_, i. ). nine years before this letter was written he had been a sailor on board a frigate (_ante_, i. ), so that he was somewhat old for a boy. [ ] boswell, writing to temple on may of this year; says:--'dr. robertson is come up laden with his _charles v_.--three large quartos; he has been offered three thousand guineas for it.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] in like manner the professors at aberdeen and glasgow seemed afraid to speak in his presence. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug and oct , . see also _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] johnson, in inserting this letter, says (works, viii. ):--'i communicate it with much pleasure, as it gives me at once an opportunity of recording the fraternal kindness of thomson, and reflecting on the friendly assistance of mr. boswell, from whom i received it.' see _post_, july , , and june , . [ ] murphy, in his _life of garrick_, p. , says that garrick once brought dr. munsey--so he writes the name--to call on him. 'garrick entered the dining-room, and turning suddenly round, ran to the door, and called out, "dr. munsey, where are you going?" "up stairs to see the author," said munsey. "pho! pho! come down, the author is here." dr. munsey came, and, as he entered the room, said in his free way, "you scoundrel! i was going up to the garret. who could think of finding an author on the first floor?"' mrs. montagu wrote to lord lyttelton from tunbridge in :--'the great monsey (_sic_) came hither on friday ... he is great in the coffee-house, great in the rooms, and great on the pantiles.' _montagu letters_, iv. . in rogers's _table-talk_, p. , there is a curious account of him. [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] my respectable friend, upon reading this passage, observed, that he probably must have said not simply, 'strong facts,' but 'strong facts well arranged.' his lordship, however, knows too well the value of written documents to insist on setting his recollection against my notes taken at the time. he does not attempt to _traverse_ the record. the fact, perhaps, may have been, either that the additional words escaped me in the noise of a numerous company, or that dr. johnson, from his impetuosity, and eagerness to seize an opportunity to make a lively retort, did not allow dr. douglas to finish his sentence. boswell. [ ] 'it is boasted that between november [ ] and january, eleven thousand [of _the conduct of the allies_] were sold.... yet surely whoever surveys this wonder-working pamphlet with cool perusal, will confess that it's efficacy was supplied by the passions of its readers; that it operates by the mere weight of facts, with very little assistance from the hand that produced them.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] 'every great man, of whatever kind be his greatness, has among his friends those who officiously or insidiously quicken his attention to offences, heighten his disgust, and stimulate his resentment.' _ib_ viii . [ ] see the hard drawing of him in churchill's _rosciad_. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] for _talk_, see _post_, under march . [ ] see _post_, oct. , , and may , , where johnson tosses boswell. [ ] see _post_, sept. , , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. i, . [ ] see _post_, nov. , , note, april , , and under may , . [ ] he wrote the character of mr. mudge. see _post_, under march , . [ ] 'sept. , . this day completes the sixtieth year of my age.... the last year has been wholly spent in a slow progress of recovery.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] in which place he has been succeeded by bennet langton, esq. when that truly religious gentleman was elected to this honorary professorship, at the same time that edward gibbon, esq., noted for introducing a kind of sneering infidelity into his historical writings, was elected professor in ancient history, in the room of dr. goldsmith, i observed that it brought to my mind, 'wicked will whiston and good mr. ditton.' i am now also of that admirable institution as secretary for foreign correspondence, by the favour of the academicians, and the approbation of the sovereign. boswell. goldsmith, writing to his brother in jan., , said:--'the king has lately been pleased to make me professor of ancient history in a royal academy of painting, which he has just established, but there is no salary annexed, and i took it rather as a compliment to the institution than any benefit to myself. honours to one in my situation are something like ruffles to one that wants a shirt.' prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . 'wicked will whiston,' &c., comes from swift's _ode for music, on the longitude_ (swift's _works_, ed. , xxiv. ), which begins,-- 'the longitude miss'd on by wicked will whiston; and not better hit on by good master ditton.' it goes on so grossly and so offensively as regards one and the other, that boswell's comparison was a great insult to langton as well as to gibbon. [ ] it has this inscription in a blank leaf:--'_hunc librum d.d. samuel johnson, eo quod hic loci studiis interdum vacaret_.' of this library, which is an old gothick room, he was very fond. on my observing to him that some of the _modern_ libraries of the university were more commodious and pleasant for study, as being more spacious and airy, he replied, 'sir, if a man has a mind to _prance_, he must study at christ-church and all-souls.' boswell. [ ] during this visit he seldom or never dined out. he appeared to be deeply engaged in some literary work. miss williams was now with him at oxford. boswell. it was more likely the state of his health which kept him at home. writing from oxford on june of this year to mrs. thrale, who had been ill, he says:--'i will not increase your uneasiness with mine. i hope i grow better. i am very cautious and very timorous.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] boswell wrote a letter, signed with his own name, to the _london magazine_ for (p. ) describing the jubilee. it is followed by a print of himself 'in the dress of an armed corsican chief,' and by an account, no doubt written by himself. it says:--'of the most remarkable masks upon this occasion was james boswell, esq., in the dress of an armed corsican chief. he entered the amphitheatre about twelve o'clock. on the front of his cap was embroidered in gold letters, _viva la liberta_; and on one side of it was a handsome blue feather and cockade, so that it had an elegant, as well as a warlike appearance. he wore no mask, saying that it was not proper for a gallant corsican. so soon as he came into the room he drew universal attention.' cradock (_memoirs_, i. ) gives a melancholy account of the festival. the preparations were all behind-hand and the weather was stormy. 'there was a masquerade in the evening, and all zealous friends endeavoured to keep up the spirit of it as long as they could, till they were at last informed that the avon was rising so very fast that no delay could be admitted. the ladies of our party were conveyed by planks from the building to the coach, and found that the wheels had been two feet deep in water.' garrick in was asked by the stratford committee to join them in celebrating a jubilee every year, as 'the most likely method to promote the interest and reputation of their town.' boswell caught at the proposal eagerly, and writing to garrick said:--'i please myself with the prospect of attending you at several more jubilees at stratford-upon-avon.' _garrick corres_. i. , . [ ] garrick's correspondents not seldom spoke disrespectfully of johnson. thus, mr. sharp, writing to him in , talks of 'risking the sneer of one of dr. johnson's ghastly smiles.' _ib_ i. . dr. j. hoadly, in a letter dated july , , says:--'mr. good-enough has written a kind of parody of puffy pensioner's _taxation no tyranny_, under the noble title of _resistance no rebellion_.' _ib_ ii. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] in the preface to my _account of corsica_, published in , i thus express myself: 'he who publishes a book affecting not to be an authour, and professing an indifference for literary fame, may possibly impose upon many people such an idea of his consequence as he wishes may be received. for my part, i should be proud to be known as an authour, and i have an ardent ambition for literary fame; for, of all possessions, i should imagine literary fame to be the most valuable. a man who has been able to furnish a book, which has been approved by the world, has established himself as a respectable character in distant society, without any danger of having that character lessened by the observation of his weaknesses. to preserve an uniform dignity among those who see us every day, is hardly possible; and to aim at it, must put us under the fetters of perpetual restraint. the authour of an approved book may allow his natural disposition an easy play, and yet indulge the pride of superior genius, when he considers that by those who know him only as an authour, he never ceases to be respected. such an authour, when in his hours of gloom and discontent, may have the consolation to think, that his writings are, at that very time, giving pleasure to numbers; and such an authour may cherish the hope of being remembered after death, which has been a great object to the noblest minds in all ages.' boswell. his preface to the third edition thus ends:--'when i first ventured to send this book into the world, i fairly owned an ardent desire for literary fame. i have obtained my desire: and whatever clouds may overcast my days, i can now walk here among the rocks and woods of my ancestors, with an agreeable consciousness that i have done something worthy.' the dedication of the first edition and the preface of the third are both dated oct. --one , and the other . oct. was his birthday. [ ] paoli's father had been one of the leaders of the corsicans in their revolt against genoa in . paoli himself was chosen by them as their general-in-chief in . in the island was conquered by the french. he escaped in an english ship, and settled in england. here he stayed till , when mirabeau moved in the national assembly the recall of all the corsican patriots. paoli was thereupon appointed by louis xvi. lieutenant-general and military commandant in corsica. he resisted the violence of the convention, and was, in consequence, summoned before it. refusing to obey, an expedition was sent to arrest him. napoleon buonaparte fought in the french army, but paoli's party proved the stronger. the islanders sought the aid of great britain, and offered the crown of corsica to george iii. the offer was accepted, but by an act of incredible folly, not paoli, but sir gilbert eliot, was made viceroy. paoli returned to england, where he died in , at the age of eighty-two. in corsica was abandoned by the english. by the revolution it ceased to be a conquered province, having been formally declared an integral part of france. at the present day the corsicans are proud of being citizens of that great country; no less proud, however, are they of pascal paoli, and of the gallant struggle for independence of their forefathers. [ ] according to the _ann. reg_. (xii. ) paoli arrived in london on sept. . he certainly was in london on oct. , for on that day he was presented by boswell to johnson. yet wesley records in his _journal_ (iii. ) on oct. :--'i very narrowly missed meeting the great pascal paoli. he landed in the dock [at portsmouth] but a very few minutes after i left the waterside. surely he who hath been with him from his youth up hath not sent him into england for nothing.' in the _public advertiser_ for oct. there is the following entry, inserted no doubt by boswell:--'on sunday last general paoli, accompanied by james boswell, esq., took an airing in hyde park in his coach.' priors _goldsmith_, i. . horace walpole writes:--'paoli's character had been so advantageously exaggerated by mr. boswell's enthusiastic and entertaining account of him, that the opposition were ready to incorporate him in the list of popular tribunes. the court artfully intercepted the project; and deeming patriots of all nations equally corruptible, bestowed a pension of £ a year on the unheroic fugitive.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. . [ ] johnson, writes mrs. piozzi (_anec_., p. ), ridiculed a friend 'who, looking out on streatham common from our windows, lamented the enormous wickedness of the times, because some bird-catchers were busy there one fine sunday morning. "while half the christian world is permitted," said johnson, "to dance and sing and celebrate sunday as a day of festivity, how comes your puritanical spirit so offended with frivolous and empty deviations from exactness? whoever loads life with unnecessary scruples, sir," continued he, "provokes the attention of others on his conduct, and incurs the censure of singularity, without reaping the reward of superior virtue."' see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] the first edition of hume's _history of england_ was full of scotticisms, many of which he corrected in subsequent editions. malone. according to mr. j. h. burton (_life of hume_, ii. ), 'he appears to have earnestly solicited the aid of lyttelton, mallet, and others, whose experience of english composition might enable them to detect scotticisms.' mr. burton gives instances of alterations made in the second edition. he says also that 'in none of his historical or philosophical writings does any expression used by him, unless in those cases where a scotticism has escaped his vigilance, betray either the district or the county of his origin.' _ib_ i. . hume was shown in manuscript reid's _inquiry into the human mind_. though it was an attack on his own philosophy, yet in reading it 'he kept,' he says, 'a watchful eye all along over the style,' so that he might point out any scotticisms. _ib_ ii. . nevertheless, as dugald stewart says in his _life of robertson_ (p. ), 'hume fails frequently both in purity and grammatical correctness.' even in his later letters i have noticed scotticisms. [ ] in wilkes, as author of _the north briton_, no. , had been arrested on 'a general warrant directed to four messengers to take up any persons without naming or describing them with any certainty, and to bring them, together with their papers.' such a warrant as this chief justice pratt (lord camden) declared to be 'unconstitutional, illegal, and absolutely void.' _ann. reg_. vi. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] in the spring of this year, at a meeting of the electors of southwark, 'instructions' had been presented to mr. thrale and his brother-member, of which the twelfth was:--'that you promote a bill for shortening the duration of parliaments.' _gent. mag_. xxxix. . [ ] this paradox johnson had exposed twenty-nine years earlier, in his _life of sir francis drake_, _works_, vi. . in _rasselas_, chap. xi., he considers also the same question. imlac is 'inclined to conclude that, if nothing counteracts the natural consequence of learning, we grow more happy as our minds take a wider range.' he then enumerates the advantages which civilisation confers on the europeans. 'they are surely happy,' said the prince, 'who have all these conveniences.' 'the europeans,' answered imlac, 'are less unhappy than we, but they are not happy. human life is everywhere a state in which much is to be endured and little to be enjoyed.' writing to mrs. thrale from skye, johnson said: 'the traveller wanders through a naked desert, gratified sometimes, but rarely, with the sight of cows, and now and then finds a heap of loose stones and turf in a cavity between rocks, where a being born with all those powers which education expands, and all those sensations which culture refines, is condemned to shelter itself from the wind and rain. philosophers there are who try to make themselves believe that this life is happy, but they believe it only while they are saying it, and never yet produced conviction in a single mind.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, april and may , , april , , and june , . [ ] james burnet, a scotch lord of session, by the title of lord monboddo. 'he was a devout believer in the virtues of the heroic ages, and the deterioration of civilised mankind; a great contemner of luxuries, insomuch that he never used a wheel carriage.' walter scott, quoted in croker's _boswell_, p. . there is some account of him in chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, ii. . in his _origin of language_, to which boswell refers in his next note, after praising henry stephen for his _greek dictionary_, he continues:--'but to compile a dictionary of a barbarous language, such as all the modern are compared with the learned, is a work which a man of real genius, rather than undertake, would choose to die of hunger, the most cruel, it is said, of all deaths. i should, however, have praised this labour of doctor johnson's more, though of the meanest kind,' &c. monboddo's _origin of language_, v. . on p. , he says:--'dr. johnson was the most invidious and malignant man i have ever known.' see _post_, march , , may , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] his lordship having frequently spoken in an abusive manner of dr. johnson, in my company, i on one occasion during the life-time of my illustrious friend could not refrain from retaliation, and repeated to him this saying. he has since published i don't know how many pages in one of his curious books, attempting, in much anger, but with pitiful effect, to persuade mankind that my illustrious friend was not the great and good man which they esteemed and ever will esteem him to be. boswell. [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'mr. johnson was indeed unjustly supposed to be a lover of singularity. few people had a more settled reverence for the world than he, or was less captivated by new modes of behaviour introduced, or innovations on the long-received customs of common life.' in writing to dr. taylor to urge him to take a certain course, he says:--'this i would have you do, not in compliance with solicitation or advice, but as a justification of yourself to the world; _the world has always a right to be regarded_.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . in _the adventurer_, no. , he has a paper on 'singularities.' after quoting fontenelle's observation on newton that 'he was not distinguished from other men by any singularity, either natural or affected,' he goes on:--'some may be found who, supported by the consciousness of great abilities, and elevated by a long course of reputation and applause, voluntarily consign themselves to singularity, affect to cross the roads of life because they know that they shall not be jostled, and indulge a boundless gratification of will, because they perceive that they shall be quietly obeyed.... singularity is, i think, in its own nature universally and invariably displeasing.' writing of swift, he says (_works_, viii. ):--'whatever he did, he seemed willing to do in a manner peculiar to himself, without sufficiently considering that singularity, as it implies a contempt of the general practice, is a kind of defiance which justly provokes the hostility of ridicule; he, therefore, who indulges peculiar habits is worse than others, if he be not better.' see _ante_, oct. , the record in his _journal_:--'at church. to avoid all singularity.' [ ] 'he had many other particularities, for which he gave sound and philosophical reasons. as this humour still grew upon him he chose to wear a turban instead of a periwig; concluding very justly that a bandage of clean linen about his head was much more wholesome, as well as cleanly, than the caul of a wig, which is soiled with frequent perspirations.' _spectator_, no. . [ ] see _post_, june , , note. [ ] 'depend upon it,' he said, 'no woman is the worse for sense and knowledge.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. ; --see, however, _post_, , in mr. langton's collection, where he says:--'supposing a wife to be of a studious or argumentative turn, it would be very troublesome' [ ] 'though artemisia talks by fits of councils, classics, fathers, wits; reads malbranche, boyle, and locke: yet in some things, methinks she fails; 'twere well if she would pare her nails, and wear a cleaner smock.' swift. _imitation of english poets, works_, xxiv. . [ ] _a wife_, a poem, . boswell. [ ] in the original _that_. [ ] what a succession of compliments was paid by johnson's old school-fellow, whom he met a year or two later in lichfield, who 'has had, as he phrased it, _a matter of four wives_, for which' added johnson to mrs. thrale, 'neither you nor i like him much the better.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] mr. langton married the widow of the earl of rothes; _post_, march , . [ ] horace walpole, writing of , says:--'as one of my objects was to raise the popularity of our party, i had inserted a paragraph in the newspapers observing that the abolition of vails to servants had been set on foot by the duke of bedford, and had been opposed by the duke of devonshire. soon after a riot happened at ranelagh, in which the footmen mobbed and ill-treated some gentlemen who had been active in that reformation.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] 'alexis shunned his fellow swains, their rural sports and jocund strains, (heaven guard us all from cupid's bow!) he lost his crook, he left his flocks; and wandering through the lonely rocks, he nourished endless woe.' _the despairing shepherd_. [ ] 'in his amorous effusions prior is less happy; for they are not dictated by nature or by passion, and have neither gallantry nor tenderness. they have the coldness of cowley without his wit, the dull exercises of a skilful versifier, resolved at all adventures to write something about chloe, and trying to be amorous by dint of study.... in his private relaxation he revived the tavern, and in his amorous pedantry he exhibited the college.' johnson's _works_, viii. , . [ ] _florizel and perdita_ is garrick's version of _the winters tale_. he cut down the five acts to three. the line, which is misquoted, is in one of perdita's songs:-- 'that giant ambition we never can dread; our roofs are too low for so lofty a head; content and sweet cheerfulness open our door, they smile with the simple, and feed with the poor.' act ii. sc. . [ ] horace. _sat_. i. . . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] horace walpole told malone that 'he was about twenty-two [twenty-four] years old when his father retired; and that he remembered his offering one day to read to him, finding that time hung heavy on his hands. "what," said he, "will you read, child?" mr. walpole, considering that his father had long been engaged in public business, proposed to read some history. "no," said he, "don't read history to me; that can't be true."' prior's _malone_, p. . see also _post_, april , , and oct. , . [ ] see _ante_, i , _post_, oct , , and boswell's _hebrides_, august , . boswell himself had met whitefield; for mentioning him in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ), he adds:--'of whose pious and animated society i had some share.' southey thus describes whitefield in his _life of wesley_ (i. ):--'his voice excelled both in melody and compass, and its fine modulations were happily accompanied by that grace of action which he possessed in an eminent degree, and which has been said to be the chief requisite of an orator. an ignorant man described his eloquence oddly but strikingly, when he said that mr. whitefield preached like a lion. so strange a comparison conveyed no unapt a notion of the force and vehemence and passion of that oratory which awed the hearers, and made them tremble like felix before the apostle.' benjamin franklin writes (_memoirs_, i. ):--'mr. whitefield's eloquence had a wonderful power over the hearts and purses of his hearers, of which i myself was an instance.' he happened to be present at a sermon which, he perceived, was to finish with a collection for an object which had not his approbation. 'i silently resolved he should get nothing from me. i had in my pocket a handful of copper money, three or four silver dollars, and five pistoles in gold. as he proceeded i began to soften, and concluded to give the copper. another stroke of his oratory made me ashamed of that, and determined me to give the silver; and he finished so admirably that i emptied my pocket wholly into the collector's dish, gold and all.' [ ] 'what an idea may we not form of an interview between such a scholar and philosopher as mr. johnson, and such a legislatour and general as paoli.' boswell's _corsica_, p. . [ ] mr. stewart, who in was sent on a secret mission to paoli, in his interesting report says:--'religion seems to sit easy upon paoli, and notwithstanding what his historian boswell relates, i take him to be very free in his notions that way. this i suspect both from the strain of his conversation, and from what i have learnt of his conduct towards the clergy and monks.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, ii. . see _post_, april , , where johnson said:--'sir, there is a great cry about infidelity; but there are in reality very few infidels.' yet not long before he had complained of an 'inundation of impiety.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] i suppose johnson said atmosphere. croker. in _humphry clinker_, in the letter of june , there is, however, a somewhat similar use of the word. lord bute is described as 'the caledonian luminary, that lately blazed so bright in our hemisphere; methinks, at present, it glimmers through a fog.' a star, however, unlike a cloud, may pass from one hemisphere to the other. [ ] see _post_, under nov. , . hannah more, writing in (_memoirs_, i. ), says:--'paoli will not talk in english, and his french is mixed with italian. he speaks no language with purity.' [ ] horace walpole writes:--'paoli had as much ease as suited a prudence that seemed the utmost effort of a wary understanding, and was so void of anything remarkable in his aspect, that being asked if i knew who it was, i judged him a scottish officer (for he was sandy-complexioned and in regimentals), who was cautiously awaiting the moment of promotion.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. [ ] boswell introduced this subject often. see _post_, oct. , , april , , march , , and june , . like milton's fallen angels, he 'found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.' _paradise lost_, ii. . [ ] 'to this wretched being, himself by his own misconduct lashed out of human society, the stage was indebted for several very pure and pleasing entertainments; among them, _love in a village_, _the maid of the mill_.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . 'when,' says mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'mr. bickerstaff's flight confirmed the report of his guilt, and my husband said in answer to johnson's astonishment, that he had long been a suspected man: "by those who look close to the ground dirt will be seen, sir, (was his lofty reply); i hope i see things from a greater distance."' in the _garrick corres_ (i. ) is a piteous letter in bad french, written from st. malo, by bickerstaff to garrick, endorsed by garrick, 'from that poor wretch bickerstaff: i could not answer it.' [ ] boswell, only a couple of years before he published _the life of johnson_, in fact while he was writing it, had written to temple:--'i was the _great man_ (as we used to say) at the late drawing-room, in a suit of imperial blue, lined with rose-coloured silk, and ornamented with rich gold-wrought buttons.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] miss reynolds, in her _recollections_ (croker's _boswell_, p. ), says, 'one day at sir joshua reynolds's goldsmith was relating with great indignation an insult he had just received from some gentleman he had accidentally met. "the fellow," he said, "took me for a tailor!" on which all the company either laughed aloud or showed they suppressed a laugh.' [ ] in prior's _goldsmith_, ii. , is given filby's bill for a suit of clothes sent to goldsmith this very day:-- oct. .-- £ s. d. to making a half-dress suit of ratteen, lined with satin to a pair of silk stocking breeches to a pair of _bloom-coloured ditto nothing is said in this bill of the colour of the coat; it is the breeches that are bloom-coloured. the tailor's name was william, not john, filby; _ib_ i. , goldsmith in his _life of nash_ had said:--'dress has a mechanical influence upon the mind, and we naturally are awed into respect and esteem at the elegance of those whom even our reason would teach us to contemn. he seemed early sensible of human weakness in this respect; he brought a person genteelly dressed to every assembly.' cunningham's _goldsmith's works_, iv. . [ ] 'the _characters of men and women_ are the product of diligent speculation upon human life; much labour has been bestowed upon them, and pope very seldom laboured in vain.... the _characters of men_, however, are written with more, if not with deeper thought, and exhibit many passages exquisitely beautiful.... in the women's part are some defects.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] mr. langton informed me that he once related to johnson (on the authority of spence), that pope himself admired those lines so much that when he repeated them his voice faltered: 'and well it might, sir,' said johnson, 'for they are noble lines.' j. boswell, jun. [ ] we have here an instance of that reserve which boswell, in his dedication to sir joshua reynolds (_ante_, i. ), says that he has practised. in one particular he had 'found the world to be a great fool,' and, 'i have therefore,' as he writes, 'in this work been more reserved;' yet the reserve is slight enough. everyone guesses that 'one of the company' was boswell. [ ] yet johnson, in his _life of pope_ (_works_, viii. ), seems to be much of boswell's opinion; for in writing of _the dunciad_, he says:--'the subject itself had nothing generally interesting, for whom did it concern to know that one or another scribbler was a dunce?' [ ] the opposite of this johnson maintained on april , . [ ] 'it is surely sufficient for an author of sixteen ... to have obtained sufficient power of language and skill in metre, to exhibit a series of versification which had in english poetry no precedent, nor has since had an imitation.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'if the flights of dryden are higher, pope continues longer on the wing ... dryden is read with frequent astonishment, and pope with perpetual delight.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] probably, says mr. croker, those quoted by johnson in _the life of dryden_. _ib_ vii. . [ ] the duke of buckingham in dryden's _absalom and achitophel_. [ ] _prologue to the satires_, i. . [ ] almeria.--'it was a fancy'd noise; for all is hush'd. leonora.--it bore the accent of a human voice. almeria.--it was thy fear, or else some transient wind whistling thro' hollows of this vaulted aisle; we'll listen-- leonora.--hark! almeria.--no, all is hush'd and still as death,--'tis dreadful! how reverend is the face of this tall pile, whose ancient pillars rear their marble heads, to bear aloft its arch'd and ponderous roof, by its own weight made stedfast and immoveable, looking tranquillity! it strikes an awe and terror on my aching sight; the tombs and monumental caves of death look cold, and shoot a chillness to my trembling heart. give me thy hand, and let me hear thy voice; nay, quickly speak to me, and let me hear thy voice--my own affrights me with its echoes. act ii. sc. . [ ] 'swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry.' _romeo and juliet_, act ii. sc. . he was a god with whom he ventured to take great liberties. thus on jan. , , he wrote:--'i have ventured to produce _hamlet_ with alterations. it was the most imprudent thing i ever did in all my life; but i had sworn i would not leave the stage till i had rescued that noble play from all the rubbish of the fifth act. i have brought it forth without the grave-digger's trick and the fencing match. the alterations were received with general approbation beyond my most warm expectations.' _garrick corres_., ii. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] this comparison between shakespeare and congreve is mentioned perhaps oftener than any passage in boswell. almost as often as it is mentioned, it may be seen that johnson's real opinion is misrepresented or misunderstood. a few passages from his writings will shew how he regarded the two men. in the _life of congreve_ (_works_, viii. ) he repeats what he says here:--'if i were required to select from the whole mass of english poetry the most poetical paragraph, i know not what i could prefer to an exclamation in _the mourning bride_.' yet in writing of the same play, he says:--'in this play there is more bustle than sentiment; the plot is busy and intricate, and the events take hold on the attention; but, except a very few passages, we are rather amused with noise and perplexed with stratagem, than entertained with any true delineation of natural characters.' _ib_, p. . in the preface to his _shakespeare_, published four years before this conversation, he almost answered garrick by anticipation. 'it was said of euripides that every verse was a precept; and it may be said of shakespeare, that from his works may be collected a system of civil and economical prudence. yet his real power is not shown in the splendour of particular passages, but by the progress of his fable, and the tenour of his dialogue, and he that tries to recommend him by select quotations, will succeed like the pedant in _hierocles_, who, when he offered his house to sale, carried a brick in his pocket as a specimen.' _ib_, v. . ignorant, indeed, is he who thinks that johnson was insensible to shakespeare's 'transcendent and unbounded genius,' to use the words that he himself applied to him. _the rambler_, no. . 'it may be doubtful,' he writes, 'whether from all his successors more maxims of theoretical knowledge, or more rules of practical prudence, can be collected than he alone has given to his country.' _works_, v. . 'he that has read shakespeare with attention will, perhaps, find little new in the crowded world.' _ib_, p. . 'let him that is yet unacquainted with the powers of shakespeare, and who desires to feel the highest pleasure that the drama can give, read every play, from the first scene to the last, with utter negligence of all his commentators. when his fancy is once on the wing, let it not stoop at correction or explanation.' _ib_, p. . and lastly he quotes dryden's words [from dryden's _essay of dramatick poesie_, edit. of , i. ] 'that shakespeare was the man who, of all modern and perhaps ancient poets, had the largest and most comprehensive soul.' _ib_, p. . mrs. piozzi records (_anec_., p. ), that she 'forced johnson one day in a similar humour [to that in which he had praised congreve] to prefer young's description of night to those of shakespeare and dryden.' he ended however by saying:--'young froths and foams and bubbles sometimes very vigorously; but we must not compare the noise made by your tea-kettle here with the roaring of the ocean.' see also _post_, p. . [ ] _henry v_, act iv., prologue. [ ] _romeo and juliet_, act iv., sc. . [ ] _king lear_, act iv., sc. . [ ] see _ante_, july , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in spite of the gross nonsense that voltaire has written about shakespeare, yet it was with justice that in a letter to horace walpole (dated july , ,) he said:--'je suis le premier qui ait fait connaître shakespeare aux français.... je peux vous assurer qu'avant moi personne en france ne connaissait la poésie anglaise.' voltaire's _works_, liv. . [ ] 'of whom i acknowledge myself to be one, considering it as a piece of the secondary or comparative species of criticism; and not of that profound species which alone dr. johnson would allow to be "real criticism." it is, besides, clearly and elegantly expressed, and has done effectually what it professed to do, namely, vindicated shakespeare from the misrepresentations of voltaire; and considering how many young people were misled by his witty, though false observations, mrs. montagu's essay was of service to shakspeare with a certain class of readers, and is, therefore, entitled to praise. johnson, i am assured, allowed the merit which i have stated, saying, (with reference to voltaire,) "it is conclusive _ad hominem_."' boswell. that this dull essay, which would not do credit to a clever school-girl of seventeen, should have had a fame, of which the echoes have not yet quite died out, can only be fully explained by mrs. montagu's great wealth and position in society. contemptible as was her essay, yet a saying of hers about voltaire was clever. 'he sent to the academy an invective [against shakespeare] that bears all the marks of passionate dotage. mrs. montagu happened to be present when it was read. suard, one of their writers, said to her, "je crois, madame, que vous êtes un peu fâché (sic) de ce que vous venez d'entendre." she replied, "moi, monsieur! point du tout! je ne suis pas amie de m. voltaire."' walpole's _letters_, vi. . her own _letters_ are very pompous and very poor, and her wit would not seem to have flashed often; for miss burney wrote of her:--'she reasons well, and harangues well, but wit she has none.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . yet in this same _diary_ (i. ) we find evidence of the absurdly high estimate that was commonly formed of her. 'mrs. thrale asked me if i did not want to see mrs. montagu. i truly said, i should be the most insensible of all animals not to like to see our sex's glory.' that she was a very extraordinary woman we have johnson's word for it. (see _post_, may , .) it is impossible, however, to discover anything that rises above commonplace in anything that she wrote, and, so far as i know, that she said, with the exception of her one saying about voltaire. johnson himself, in one of his letters to mrs. thrale, has a laugh at her. he had mentioned shakespeare, nature and friendship, and continues:--'now, of whom shall i proceed to speak? of whom but mrs. montagu? having mentioned shakespeare and nature, does not the name of montagu force itself upon me? such were the transitions of the ancients, which now seem abrupt, because the intermediate idea is lost to modern understandings. i wish her name had connected itself with friendship; but, ah colin, thy hopes are in vain.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, april , . [ ] 'reynolds is fond of her book, and i wonder at it; for neither i, nor beauclerk, nor mrs. thrale, could get through it.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] lord kames is 'the scotchman.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'when charles townshend read some of lord kames's _elements of criticism_, he said:--"this is the work of a dull man grown whimsical"--a most characteristical account of lord kames as a writer.' _boswelliana_, p. . hume wrote of it:--'some parts of the work are ingenious and curious; but it is too abstruse and crabbed ever to take with the public.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . 'kames,' he says, 'had much provoked voltaire, who never forgives, and never thinks any enemy below his notice.' _ib_, p. . voltaire (_works_, xliii. ) thus ridicules his book:--'il nous prouve d'abord que nous avons cinq sens, et que nous sentons moins l'impression douce faite sur nos yeux et sur nos oreilles par les couleurs et par les sons que nous ne sentons un grand coup sur la jambe ou sur la tête.' [ ] l'abbé dubos, - . 'tous les artistes lisent avec fruit ses _réflexions sur la poésie, la peinture, et la musique_. c'est le livre le plus utile qu'on ait jamais écrit sur ces matières chez aucune des nations de l'europe.' voltaire's _siècle de louis xiv_, i. . [ ] bouhours, - . voltaire, writing of bouhours' _manière de bien penser sur les ouvrages d'esprit_, says that he teaches young people 'à éviter l'enflure, l'obscurité, le recherché, et le faux.' _ib_, p. . johnson, perhaps, knew him, through _the spectator_, no. , where it is said that he has shown 'that it is impossible for any thought to be beautiful which is not just, ... that the basis of all wit is truth.' [ ] _macbeth_, act iii. sc. . [ ] in _the false alarm_, that was published less than three months after this conversation, johnson describes how petitions were got. 'the progress of a petition is well known. an ejected placeman goes down to his county or his borough, tells his friends of his inability to serve them, and his constituents of the corruption of the government. his friends readily understand that he who can get nothing will have nothing to give. they agree to proclaim a meeting; meat and drink are plentifully provided, a crowd is easily brought together, and those who think that they know the reason of their meeting, undertake to tell those who know it not; ale and clamour unite their powers.... the petition is read, and universally approved. those who are sober enough to write, add their names, and the rest would sign it if they could.' _works_, vi. . yet, when the petitions for dr. dodd's life were rejected, johnson said:--'surely the voice of the public when it calls so loudly, and calls only for mercy, ought to be heard.' _post_, june , . horace walpole, writing of the numerous petitions presented to the king this year ( ), blames 'an example so inconsistent with the principles of liberty, as appealing to the crown against the house of commons.' some of them prayed for a dissolution of parliament. _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. , . two years earlier lord shelburne, when secretary of state, had found among the subscribers to a petition for his impeachment, a friend of his, a london alderman. 'oh! aye,' said the alderman when asked for an explanation, 'i did sign a petition at the royal exchange, which they told me was for the impeachment of a minister; i always sign a petition to impeach a minister, and i recollect that as soon as i had subscribed it, twenty more put their names to it.' _parl. hist_., xxxv. . [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] mr. robert chambers says that the author of the ballad was elizabeth halket, wife of sir henry wardlaw. she died about . 'the ballad of hardyknute was the first poem i ever read, and it will be the last i shall forget.' sir walter scott. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] john ray published, in , _a collection of english words_, &c., and _a collection of english proverbs_. in the two were published in one volume. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] 'life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage.' _macbeth_, act v. se. . [ ] in the _garrick corres_., i. , there is a letter from mrs. montagu to garrick, which shows the ridiculous way in which shakespeare was often patronised last century, and 'brought into notice.' she says:--'mrs. montagu is a little jealous for poor shakespeare, for if mr. garrick often acts kitely, ben jonson will eclipse his fame.' [ ] 'familiar comedy is often more powerful on the theatre than in the page; imperial tragedy is always less.' johnson's _works_, v. . see also boswell's _hebrides_, august and , , where johnson 'displayed another of his heterodox opinions--a contempt of tragick acting.' murphy (_life_, p. ) thus writes of johnson's slighting garrick and the stage:--'the fact was, johnson could not see the passions as they rose and chased one another in the varied features of that expressive face; and by his own manner of reciting verses, which was wonderfully impressive, he plainly showed that he thought there was too much of artificial tone and measured cadence in the declamation of the theatre.' reynolds said of johnson's recitation, that 'it had no more tone than it should the have.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson, speaking of cibber's 'talents of conversation,' said:--'he had but half to furnish; for one half of what he said was oaths.' [ ] see _ante_, june , . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] on oct. , one day, not two days before, four men were hanged at tyburn for robbery on the highway, one for stealing money and linen, and one for forgery. _gent. mag_., xxxix. . boswell, in _the hypochondriack_, no. (_london mag_. for , p. ), republishes a letter which he had written on april , , to the _public advertiser_, after he had witnessed the execution of an attorney named gibbon, and a youthful highwayman. he says:--'i must confess that i myself am never absent from a public execution.... when i first attended them, i was shocked to the greatest degree. i was in a manner convulsed with pity and terror, and for several days, but especially nights after, i was in a very dismal situation. still, however, i persisted in attending them, and by degrees my sensibility abated, so that i can now see one with great composure. i can account for this curiosity in a philosophical manner, when i consider that death is the most awful object before every man, whoever directs his thoughts seriously towards futurity. therefore it is that i feel an irresistible impulse to be present at every execution, as i there behold the various effects of the near approach of death.' he maintains 'that the curiosity which impels people to be present at such affecting scenes, is certainly a proof of sensibility, not of callousness. for, it is observed, that the greatest proportion of the spectators is composed of women.' see _post_, june , . [ ] of johnson, perhaps, might almost be said what he said of swift (_works_, viii. ):--'the thoughts of death rushed upon him at this time with such incessant importunity that they took possession of his mind, when he first waked, for many hours together.' writing to mrs. thrale from lichfield on oct. , , he says:--'all here is gloomy; a faint struggle with the tediousness of time, a doleful confession of present misery, and the approach seen and felt of what is most dreaded and most shunned. but such is the lot of man.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] johnson, during a serious illness, thus wrote to mrs. thrale:--'when any man finds himself disposed to complain with how little care he is regarded, let him reflect how little he contributed to the happiness of others, and how little, for the most part, he suffers from their pain. it is perhaps not to be lamented that those solicitudes are not long nor frequent which must commonly be vain; nor can we wonder that, in a state in which all have so much to feel of their own evils, very few have leisure for those of another.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, sept. , . [ ] 'i was shocked to find a letter from dr. holland, to the effect that poor harry hallam is dying at sienna [vienna]. what a trial for my dear old friend! i feel for the lad himself, too. much distressed. i dined, however. we dine, unless the blow comes very, very near the heart indeed.' macaulay's _life_, ii. . see also _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, feb. , , for 'a furious quarrel' between davies and baretti. [ ] foote, two or three years before this, had lost one leg through an accident in hunting. forster's _essays_, ii. . see _post_, under feb. , . [ ] when mr. foote was at edinburgh, he thought fit to entertain a numerous scotch company, with a great deal of coarse jocularity, at the expense of dr. johnson, imagining it would be acceptable. i felt this as not civil to me; but sat very patiently till he had exhausted his merriment on that subject; and then observed, that surely johnson must be allowed to have some sterling wit, and that i had heard him say a very good thing of mr. foote himself. 'ah, my old friend sam (cried foote), no man says better things; do let us have it.' upon which i told the above story, which produced a very loud laugh from the company. but i never saw foote so disconcerted. he looked grave and angry, and entered into a serious refutation of the justice of the remark. 'what, sir, (said he), talk thus of a man of liberal education;--a man who for years was at the university of oxford;--a man who has added sixteen new characters to the english drama of his country!' boswell. foote was at worcester college, but he left without taking his degree. he was constantly in scrapes. when the provost, dr. gower, who was a pedant, sent for him to reprimand him, 'foote would present himself with great apparent gravity and submission, but with a large dictionary under his arm; when, on the doctor beginning in his usual pompous manner with a surprisingly long word, he would immediately interrupt him, and, after begging pardon with great formality, would produce his dictionary, and pretending to find the meaning of the word, would say, "very well, sir; now please to go on."' forster's _essays_, ii. . dr. gower is mentioned by dr. king (_anec_., p. ) as one of the three persons he had known 'who spoke english with that elegance and propriety, that if all they said had been immediately committed to writing, any judge of the language would have pronounced it an excellent and very beautiful style.' the other two were bishop atterbury and dr. johnson. [ ] _cento_. a composition formed by joining scrapes from other authours.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] for the position of these chaplains see _the tatler_, no. , and _the guardian_, no. . [ ] 'he had been assailed in the grossest manner possible by a woman of the town, and, driving her off with a blow, was set upon by three bullies. he thereupon ran away in great fear, for he was a timid man, and being pursued, had stabbed two of the men with a small knife he carried in his pocket.' garrick and beauclerk testified that every one abroad carried such a knife, for in foreign inns only forks were provided. 'when you travel abroad do you carry such knives as this?' garrick was asked. 'yes,' he answered, 'or we should have no victuals.' _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. . i have extracted from the _sessional reports_ for , p. , the following evidence as to baretti's character:--'sir joshua reynolds. i have known mr. baretti fifteen or sixteen years. he is a man of great humanity, and very active in endeavouring to help his friends. he is a gentleman of a good temper; i never knew him quarrelsome in my life; he is of a sober disposition.... this affair was on a club night of the royal academicians. we expected him there, and were inquiring about him before we heard of this accident. he is secretary for foreign correspondence.' 'dr. johnson. i believe i began to be acquainted with mr. baretti about the year ' or ' . i have been intimate with him. he is a man of literature, a very studious man, a man of great diligence. he gets his living by study. i have no reason to think he was ever disordered with liquor in his life. a man that i never knew to be otherwise than peaceable, and a man that i take to be rather timorous.' qu. 'was he addicted to pick up women in the street?' 'dr. j. i never knew that he was.' qu. 'how is he as to his eye-sight?' 'dr. j. he does not see me now, nor i do not [sic] see him. i do not believe he could be capable of assaulting anybody in the street without great provocation.' 'edmund burke, esq. i have known him between three and four years; he is an ingenious man, a man of remarkable humanity--a thorough good-natured man.' 'david garrick, esq. i never knew a man of a more active benevolence.... he is a man of great probity and morals.' 'dr. goldsmith. i have had the honour of mr. baretti's company at my chambers in the temple. he is a most humane, benevolent, peaceable man.... he is a man of as great humanity as any in the world.' mr. fitzherbert and dr. hallifax also gave evidence. 'there were divers other gentlemen in court to speak for his character, but the court thought it needless to call them.' it is curious that boswell passes over reynolds and goldsmith among the witnesses. baretti's bail before lord mansfield were burke, garrick, reynolds, and fitzherbert. mrs. piozzi tells the following anecdotes of baretti:--'when johnson and burke went to see him in newgate, they had small comfort to give him, and bid him not hope too strongly. "why, what can _he_ fear," says baretti, placing himself between them, "that holds two such hands as i do?" an italian came one day to baretti, when he was in newgate, to desire a letter of recommendation for the teaching his scholars, when he (baretti) should be hanged. "you rascal," replies baretti in a rage, "if i were not _in my own apartment_, i would kick you down stairs directly."' hayward's _piazzi_, ii. . dr. t. campbell, in his _diary_ (p. ), wrote on april , :--'boswell and baretti, as i learned, are mortal foes; so much so that murphy and mrs. thrale agreed that boswell expressed a desire that baretti should be hanged upon that unfortunate affair of his killing, &c.' [ ] lord auchinleck, we may assume. johnson said of pope, that 'he was one of those few whose labor is their pleasure.' _works_, viii. . [ ] i have since had reason to think that i was mistaken; for i have been informed by a lady, who was long intimate with her, and likely to be a more accurate observer of such matters, that she had acquired such a niceness of touch, as to know, by the feeling on the outside of the cup, how near it was to being full. boswell. baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, ii. , says:--'i dined with dr. johnson as seldom as i could, though often scolded for it; but i hated to see the victuals pawed by poor mrs. williams, that would often carve, though stone blind.' [ ] see _ante_, july and aug. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] an italian quack who in established medicated baths in cheney walk, chelsea. croker. [ ] the same saying is recorded _post_, may , , and in boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . 'cooke reports another saying of goldsmith's to the same effect:--"there's no chance for you in arguing with johnson. like the tartar horse, if he does not conquer you in front, his kick from behind is sure to be fatal."' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . 'in arguing,' wrote sir joshua reynolds, 'johnson did not trouble himself with much circumlocution, but opposed directly and abruptly his antagonist. he fought with all sorts of weapons--ludicrous comparisons and similies; if all failed, with rudeness and overbearing. he thought it necessary never to be worsted in argument. he had one virtue which i hold one of the most difficult to practise. after the heat of contest was over, if he had been informed that his antagonist resented his rudeness, he was the first to seek after a reconciliation.... that he was not thus strenuous for victory with his intimates in tête-à-tête conversations when there were no witnesses, may be easily believed. indeed, had his conduct been to them the same as he exhibited to the public, his friends could never have entertained that love and affection for him which they all feel and profess for his memory.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. , . [ ] he had written the _introduction_ to it. _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, beginning of . [ ] he accompanied boswell on his tour to the hebrides. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] while he was in scotland he never entered one of the churches. 'i will not give a sanction,' he said, 'by my presence, to a presbyterian assembly.' _ib_ aug. , . when he was in france he went to a roman catholic service; _post_, oct. , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] see _post_, may , , oct. , , and june , . [ ] _st. james_, v. . [ ] see _post_, june , , note. [ ] laceration was properly a term of surgery; hence the italics. see _post_, jan. , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] he bids us pray 'for faith that panting for a happier seat, counts death kind nature's signal of retreat.' [ ] 'to die is landing on some silent shore, where billows never beat, nor tempests roar, ere well we feel the friendly stroke, 'tis o'er.' garth. quoted in johnson's _works_, vi. . bacon, if he was the author of _an essay on death_, says, 'i do not believe that any man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death.' spedding's _bacon_, vi. . cicero (_tuscul. quaest_. i. ) quotes epicharmus's saying:--'emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum nihil aestimo.' [ ] see _post_, beginning of . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] perhaps _on_ is a misprint for _or_. [ ] johnson says of blackmore (_works_, viii. ) that 'he is one of those men whose lot it has been to be much oftener mentioned by enemies than by friends.' [ ] this account johnson says he had from an eminent bookseller, who had it from ambrose philips the poet. 'the relation of philips,' he adds, 'i suppose was true; but when all reasonable, all credible allowance is made for this friendly revision, the author will still retain an ample dividend of praise.... correction seldom effects more than the suppression of faults: a happy line, or a single elegance, may perhaps be added, but of a large work the general character must always remain.' _works_, viii. . [ ] an acute correspondent of the _european magazine_, april, , has completely exposed a mistake which has been unaccountably frequent in ascribing these lines to blackmore, notwithstanding that sir richard steele, in that very popular work, _the spectator_, mentions them as written by the authour of the british princes, the honourable edward howard. the correspondent above mentioned, shews this mistake to be so inveterate, that not only _i_ defended the lines as blackmore's, in the presence of dr. johnson, without any contradiction or doubt of their authenticity, but that the reverend mr. whitaker has asserted in print, that he understands they were _suppressed_ in the late edition or editions of blackmore. 'after all (says this intelligent writer) it is not unworthy of particular observation, that these lines so often quoted do not exist either in blackmore or howard.' in _the british princes_, vo. , now before me, p. , they stand thus:-- 'a vest as admired voltiger had on, which, from this island's foes, his grandsire won, whose artful colour pass'd the tyrian dye, oblig'd to triumph in this legacy.' it is probable, i think, that some wag, in order to make howard still more ridiculous than he really was, has formed the couplet as it now circulates. boswell. swift in his _poetry: a rhapsody_, thus joins howard and blackmore together:-- 'remains a difficulty still, to purchase fame by writing ill. from flecknoe down to howard's time how few have reached the low sublime! for when our high-born howard died, blackmore alone his place supplied.' _swift's works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] boswell seems to have borrowed the notion from _the spectator_, no. , where steele, after saying that the poet blundered because he was 'vivacious as well as stupid,' continues:--'a fool of a colder constitution would have staid to have flayed the pict, and made buff of his skin for the wearing of the conqueror.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) tells how one day at streatham 'when he was musing over the fire, a young gentleman called to him suddenly, and i suppose he thought disrespectfully, in these words:--"mr. johnson, would you advise me to marry?" "i would advise no man to marry, sir," returns for answer in a very angry tone dr. johnson, "who is not likely to propagate understanding," and so left the room. our companion looked confounded, and i believe had scarce recovered the consciousness of his own existence, when johnson came back, and drawing his chair among us, with altered looks and a softened voice, joined in the general chat, insensibly led the conversation to the subject of marriage, where he laid himself out in a dissertation so useful, so elegant, so founded on the true knowledge of human life, and so adorned with beauty of sentiment, that no one ever recollected the offence except to rejoice in its consequences.' this 'young gentleman,' according to mr. hayward (mrs. piozzi's _auto_. i. ), was sir john lade, the hero of the ballad which johnson recited on his death-bed. for other instances of johnson's seeking a reconciliation, see _post_, may , , and april and may , . [ ] '_the false alarm_, his first and favourite pamphlet, was written at our house between eight o'clock on wednesday night and twelve o'clock on thursday night. we read it to mr. thrale when he came very late home from the house of commons.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see also _post_, nov. , , where johnson says that '_the patriot_ was called for by my political friends on friday, was written on saturday.' [ ] wilkes was first elected member for middlesex at the general election of march, . he did not take his seat, having been thrown into prison before parliament met. on feb. , , he was declared incapable of being elected, and a new writ was ordered. on feb. he was again elected, and without opposition. his election was again declared void. on march he was a third time elected, and without opposition. his election was again declared void. on april he was a fourth time elected by votes against given for colonel luttrell. on the th the poll taken for him was declared null and void, and on the th, colonel luttrell was declared duly elected. _parl. hist_. xvi. , and almon's _wilkes_, iv. . see _post_, oct. , . [ ] the resolution of expulsion was carried on feb. , . _parl. hist_. xvi. . it was expunged on may , . _ib_ xxii. . [ ] in the original it is not _rulers_, but _railers_. johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] how slight the change of system was is shown by a passage in forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . mr. forster mentions a 'memorial in favour of the most worthless of hack-partizans, shebbeare, which obtained for him his pension of £ a year. it is signed by fifteen members of the house of commons, and it asks for a pension "that he may be enabled to pursue that laudable _inclination which he has_ of manifesting his zeal for the service of his majesty and his government"; in other words, that a rascal shall be bribed to support a corrupt administration.' horace walpole, in (_letters_, iii. ), described shebbeare as one 'who made a pious resolution of writing himself into a place or the pillory, but who miscarried in both views.' he added in a note, 'he did write himself into a pillory before the conclusion of that reign, and into a pension at the beginning of the next, for one and the same kind of merit--writing against king william and the revolution.' see also _post_, end of may, . [ ] johnson could scarcely be soothed by lines such as the following:-- 'never wilt thou retain the hoarded store, in virtue affluent, but in metal poor; * * * * * great is thy prose; great thy poetic strain, yet to dull coxcombs are they great in vain. [ ] stockdale, who was born in and died in , wrote _memoirs of his life_--a long, dull book, but containing a few interesting anecdotes of johnson. he thought himself, and the world also, much ill-used by the publishers, when they passed him over and chose johnson to edit the _lives of the poets_. he lodged both in johnson's court and in bolt court, but preserved little good-will for his neighbour. johnson, in the _life of waller_ (_works_, vii. ), quoting from stockdale's _life_ of that poet, calls him 'his last ingenious biographer.' i. d'israeli says that 'the bookseller flexney complained that whenever this poet came to town, it cost him £ . flexney had been the publisher of churchill's _works_, and never forgetting the time when he published _the rosciad_, he was speculating all his life for another churchill and another quarto poem. stockdale usually brought him what he wanted, and flexney found the workman, but never the work.' _calamities of authors_, ed. , ii. . [ ] 'i believe most men may review all the lives that have passed within their observation without remembering one efficacious resolution, or being able to tell a single instance of a course of practice suddenly changed in consequence of a change of opinion, or an establishment of determination.' _idler_, no. . 'these sorrowful meditations fastened upon rasselas's mind; he passed four months in resolving to lose no more time in idle resolves.' _rasselas_, ch. iv. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . [p. .] boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] the passage remains unrevised in the second edition. [ ] johnson had suffered greatly from rheumatism this year, as well as from other disorders. he mentions 'spasms in the stomach which disturbed me for many years, and for two past harassed me almost to distraction.' these, however, by means of a strong remedy, had at easter nearly ceased. 'the pain,' he adds, 'harrasses me much; yet many leave the disease perhaps in a much higher degree, with want of food, fire, and covering, which i find also grievous, with all the succours that riches kindness can buy and give.' (he was staying at mr. thrale's) _pr. and med_. pp. - . 'shall i ever,' he asks on easter day, 'receive the sacrament with tranquility? surely the time will come.' _ib_ p. . [ ] son of the learned mrs. grierson, who was patronised by the late lord granville, and was the editor of several of the classicks. boswell. [ ] 'pontificum libros, annosa volumina vatum, dictitet albano musas in monte locutas.' 'then swear transported that the sacred nine pronounced on alba's top each hallowed line.' francis. horace, _epis_. ii. i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , where boswell says that 'johnson afterwards honestly acknowledged the merit of walpole.' [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] 'his acquaintance was sought by persons of the first eminence in literature; and his house, in respect of the conversations there, became an academy.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . see _ante_, i. , , note . [ ] probably madame de boufflers. see _post_, under november , . [ ] 'to talk in publick, to think in solitude, to read and hear, to inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar.' _rasselas_, ch. viii. miss burney mentions an amusing instance of a consultation by letter. 'the letter was dated from the orkneys, and cost dr. johnson eighteen pence. the writer, a clergyman, says he labours under a most peculiar misfortune, for which he can give no account, and which is that, though he very often writes letters to his friends and others, he never gets any answers. he entreats, therefore, that dr. johnson will take this into consideration, and explain to him to what so strange a thing may be attributed.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] 'how he [swift] spent the rest of his time, and how he employed his hours of study, has been inquired with hopeless curiosity. for who can give an account of another's studies? swift was not likely to admit any to his privacies, or to impart a minute account of his business or his leisure.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'he loved the poor,' says mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'as i never yet saw any one else do, with an earnest desire to make them happy. "what signifies," says some one, "giving half-pence to common beggars? they only lay it out in gin or tobacco." "and why should they be denied such sweeteners of their existence?" says johnson.' the harm done by this indiscriminate charity had been pointed out by fielding in his _covent garden journal_ for june , . he took as the motto for the paper: 'o bone, ne te frustrere, insanis et tu'; which he translates, 'my good friend, do not deceive thyself; for with all thy charity thou also art a silly fellow.' 'giving our money to common beggars,' he describes as 'a kind of bounty that is a crime against the public.' fielding's _works_, x. , ed. . johnson once allowed (_post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_) that 'one might give away £ a year to those that importune in the streets, and not do any good.' see also _post_, oct. , . [ ] he was once attacked, though whether by robbers is not made clear. see _post_, under feb. , . [ ] perhaps it was this class of people which is described in the following passage:--'it was never against people of coarse life that his contempt was expressed, while poverty of sentiment in men who considered themselves to be company _for the parlour_, as he called it, was what he would not bear.' piozzi's _anec_. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for one such offer. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note , and _post_, march , . [ ] dr. t. campbell, in his _survey of the south of ireland_, ed. (_post_, april , ), says:--'by one law of the penal code, if a papist have a horse worth fifty, or five hundred pounds, a protestant may become the purchaser upon paying him down five. by another of the same code, a son may say to his father, "sir, if you don't give me what money i want, i'll turn _discoverer_, and in spite of you and my elder brother too, on whom at marriage you settled your estate, i shall become heir,"' p. . father o'leary, in his _remarks on wesley's letter_, published in (_post_, _hebrides_, aug. , ), says (p. ):--'he has seen the venerable matron, after twenty-four years' marriage, banished from the perjured husband's house, though it was proved in open court that for six months before his marriage he went to mass. but the law requires that he should be a year and a day of the same religion.' burke wrote in : 'the castle [the government in dublin] considers the out-lawry (or what at least i look on as such) of the great mass of the people as an unalterable maxim in the government of ireland.' _burke's corres_., iii. . see _post_, ii. , and may , , and oct. , . [ ] see post, just before feb. , . [ ] 'of sheridan's writings on elocution, johnson said, they were a continual renovation of hope, and an unvaried succession of disappointments.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . see _post_, may , . [ ] in , jonas hanway published his _travels to persia_. [ ] 'though his journey was completed in eight days he gave a relation of it in two octavo volumes.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, june , , note, where he varies the epithet, calling it 'the best piece of _parenetic_ divinity.' [ ] '"i taught myself," law tells us, "the high dutch language, on purpose to know the original words of the blessed jacob."' overton's _life of law_, p. . behmen, or böhme, the mystic shoemaker of gorlitz, was born in , and died in . 'his books may not hold at all honourable places in libraries; his name may be ridiculous. but he _was_ a generative thinker. what he knew he knew for himself. it was not transmitted to him, but fought for.' f.d. maurice's _moral and meta. phil_. ii. . of hudibras's squire, ralph, it was said: 'he anthroposophus, and floud, and jacob behmen understood.' _hudibras_, i. i. . wesley (_journal_, i. ) writes of behmen's _mysteriun magnum_, 'i can and must say thus much (and that with as full evidence as i can say two and two make four) it is most sublime nonsense, inimitable bombast, fustian not to be paralleled.' [ ] 'he heard unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter,' corinthians, xii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . in _humphry clinker_, in the letter of june , the turnkey of clerkenwell prison thus speaks of a methodist:--'i don't care if the devil had him; here has been nothing but canting and praying since the fellow entered the place. rabbit him! the tap will be ruined--we han't sold a cask of beer nor a dozen of wine, since he paid his garnish--the gentlemen get drunk with nothing but your damned religion.' [ ] 'john wesley probably paid more for turnpikes than any other man in england, for no other person travelled so much.' southey's _wesley_, i. . 'he tells us himself, that he preached about sermons in a year.' _ib_ ii. . in one of his _appeals to men of reason and religion_, he asks:--'can you bear the summer sun to beat upon your naked head? can you suffer the wintry rain or wind, from whatever quarter it blows? are you able to stand in the open air, without any covering or defence, when god casteth abroad his snow like wool, or scattereth his hoar-frost like ashes? and yet these are some of the smallest inconveniences which accompany field-preaching. for beyond all these, are the contradiction of sinners, the scoffs both of the great vulgar and the small; contempt and reproach of every kind--often more than verbal affronts--stupid, brutal violence, sometimes to the hazard of health, or limbs, or life. brethren, do you envy us this honour? what, i pray you, would buy you to be a field-preacher? or what, think you, could induce any man of common sense to continue therein one year, unless he had a full conviction in himself that it was the will of god concerning him?' southey's _wesley_, i. . [ ] stockdale reported to johnson, that pope had told lyttelton that the reason why he had not translated homer into blank verse was 'that he could translate it more easily into rhyme. "sir," replied johnson, "when the pope said that, he knew that he lied."' stockdale's _memoirs_, ii. . in the _life of somervile_, johnson says:--'if blank verse be not tumid and gorgeous, it is crippled prose.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _post_ beginning of . [ ] _ephesians_, v. . [ ] in the original--'yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain' see _post_ june , . [ ] see _post_ under aug , , and boswell's _hebrides_ oct , . [ ] 'the chief glory of every people arises from its authours.' johnson's _works_, v . [ ] in a discourse by sir william jones, addressed to the asiatick society [in calcutta], feb. , , is the following passage:-- 'one of the most sagacious men in this age who continues, i hope, to improve and adorn it, samuel johnson [he had been dead ten weeks], remarked in my hearing, that if newton had flourished in ancient greece, he would have been worshipped as a divinity.' malone. johnson, in _an account of an attempt to ascertain the longitude_ (_works_, v, ), makes the supposed author say:--'i have lived till i am able to produce in my favour the testimony of time, the inflexible enemy of false hypotheses; the only testimony which it becomes human understanding to oppose to the authority of newton.' [ ] murphy (_life_, p. ) places the scene of such a conversation in the house of the bishop of salisbury. 'boscovitch,' he writes, 'had a ready current flow of that flimsy phraseology with which a priest may travel through italy, spain, and germany. johnson scorned what he called colloquial barbarisms. it was his pride to speak his best. he went on, after a little practice, with as much facility as if it was his native tongue. one sentence this writer well remembers. observing that fontenelle at first opposed the newtonian philosophy, and embraced it afterwards, his words were:--"fontenellus, ni fallor, in extrema senectute fuit transfuga ad castra newtoniana."' see _post_, under nov. , . boscovitch, the jesuit astronomer, was a professor in the university of pavia. when dr. burney visited him, 'he complained very much of the silence of the english astronomers, who answer none of his letters.' burney's _tour in france and italy_, p. . [ ] see _post_, in , the _life of lyttelton_. [ ] the first of macpherson's forgeries was _fragments of ancient poetry collected in the highlands_. edinburgh, . in , he published in london, _the works of ossian, the son of fingal_, vols. vol. i. contained _fingal, an ancient epic poem_, in six books. see _post_, jan . [ ] horace, _ars poetica_, l. . [ ] perhaps johnson had some ill-will towards attorneys, such as he had towards excisemen (_ante_, i. , note and ). in _london_, which was published in may, , he couples them with street robbers: 'their ambush here relentless ruffians lay, and here the fell attorney prowls for prey.' _works_, i. . in a paper in the _gent. mag_. for following june (p. ), written, i have little doubt, by him, the profession is this savagely attacked:--'our ancestors, in ancient times, had some regard to the moral character of the person sent to represent them in their national assemblies, and would have shewn some degree of resentment or indignation, had their votes been asked for murderer, an adulterer, a know oppressor, an hireling evidence, an attorney, a gamester, or pimp.' in the _life of blackmere_ (_works_, viii. ) he has a sly hit at the profession. 'sir richard blackmore was the son of robert blackmore, styled by wood gentleman, and supposed to have been an attorney.' we may compare goldsmith's lines in _retaliation_:--'then what was his failing? come tell it, and burn ye,-- 'he was, could he help it? a special attorney.' see also _post_, under june , . [ ] see _ante_, i. appendix f. [ ] dr. maxwell is perhaps here quoting the _idler_, no. , where johnson, speaking of _bioethics on the confronts of philosophy_, calls it 'the book which seems to have been the favourite of the middle ages.' [ ] yet it is murphy's tragedy of _zenobia_ that mrs. piozzi writes (_anec_. p. ):--'a gentleman carried dr. johnson his tragedy, which because he loved the author, he took, and it lay about our rooms some time. "which answer did you give your friend, sir?" said i, after the book had been called for. "i told him," replied he, "that there was too _tig and terry_ in it." seeing me laugh most violently, "why, what would'st have, child?" said he. "i looked at nothing but the _dramatis_ [_personae_], and there was _tigranes_ and _tiridates_, or _teribaeus_, or such stuff. a man can tell but what he knows, and i never got any further than the _first_ pages."' in _zenobia_ two and tigranes. [ ] hume was one who had this idle dream. shortly before his death one of his friends wrote:--'he still maintains that the national debt must be the ruin of britain; and laments that the two most civilised nations, the english and french, should be on the decline; and the barbarians, the goths and vandals of germany and russia, should be rising in power and renown.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] hannah more was with dr. kennicott at his death. 'thus closed a life,' she wrote (_memoirs_, i. ), 'the last thirty years of which were honourably spent in collating the hebrew scriptures.' see also boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) says that mallet, in return for what he wrote against byng, 'had a considerable pension bestowed upon him, which he retained to his death.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'it is dangerous for a man and woman to suspend their fate upon each other at a time when opinions are fixed, and habits are established; when friendships have been contracted on both sides; when life has been planned into method, and the mind has long enjoyed the contemplation of its own prospects.' _rasselas_, ch. xxix. [ ] malone records that 'cooper was round and fat. dr. warton, one day, when dining with johnson, urged in his favour that he was, at least, very well informed, and a good scholar. "yes," said johnson, "it cannot be denied that he has good materials for playing the fool, and he makes abundant use of them."' prior's _malone_, p. . see _post_, sept. , , note. [ ] see _post_, sept , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] but see _ante_, i. , where johnson owned that his happier days had come last. [ ] 'in youth alone unhappy mortals live, but ah! the mighty bliss is fugitive; discolour'd sickness, anxious labours come, and age, and death's inexorable doom.' dryden. virgil, _georgics_, iii. . in the first edition dr. maxwell's _collectanea_ ended here. what follows was given in the second edition in _additions received after the second edition was printed_, i. v. [ ] to glaucus. clarke's translation is:--'ut semper fortissime rem gererem, et superior virtute essem aliis.' _iliad_, vi. . cowper's version is:-- 'that i should outstrip always all mankind in worth and valour.' [ ] maxwell calls him his old master, because sharpe was master of the temple when maxwell was assistant preacher. croker. [ ] dr. t. campbell, in his _survey of the south of ireland_, p. , writes: 'in england the meanest cottager is better fed, better lodged, and better dressed than the most opulent farmers here.' see post, oct. , . [ ] in the vice-royalty of the duke of bedford, which began in dec. , 'in order to encourage tillage a law was passed granting bounties on the land carriage of corn and flour to the metropolis.' lecky's _hist. of eng_. ii. . in - a law was passed granting bounties upon the export of irish corn to foreign countries. _ib_ iv. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . lord kames, in his _sketches of the history of man_, published in , says:--'in ireland to this day goods exported are loaded with a high duty, without even distinguishing made work from raw materials; corn, for example, fish, butter, horned cattle, leather, &c. and, that nothing may escape, all goods exported that are not contained in the book of rates, pay five per cent, _ad valorem_.' ii. . these export duties were selfishly levied in what was supposed to be the interest of england. [ ] 'at this time [ ] appeared brown's _estimate_, a book now remembered only by the allusions in cowper's _table talk_ [cowper's _poems_, ed. , i. ] and in burke's _letters on a regicide peace_ [payne's _burke_, p. ]. it was universally read, admired, and believed. the author fully convinced his readers that they were a race of cowards and scoundrels; that nothing could save them; that they were on the point of being enslaved by their enemies, and that they richly deserved their fate.' macaulay's _essays_, ii. . dr. j.h. burton says:--'dr. brown's book is said to have run to a seventh edition in a few months. it is rather singular that the edition marked as the seventh has precisely the same matter in each page, and the same number of pages as the first.' _life of hume_, ii. . brown wrote two tragedies, _barbarossa_ and _athelstan_, both of which garrick brought out at drury lane. in _barbarossa_ johnson observed 'that there were two improprieties; in the first place, the use of a bell is unknown to the mahometans; and secondly, otway had tolled a bell before dr. brown, and we are not to be made april fools twice by the same trick.' murphy's _garrick_, p. . brown's vanity is shown in a letter to garrick (_garrick corres_. i. ) written on jan. , , in which he talks of going to st. petersburg, and drawing up a system of legislation for the russian empire. in the following september, in a fit of madness, he made away with himself. [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] horace walpole, writing in may, , says:--'the earl of northumberland returned from ireland, where his profusion and ostentation had been so great that it seemed to lay a dangerous precedent for succeeding governors.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . he was created duke in . for some pleasant anecdotes about this nobleman and goldsmith, see goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. , and forster's _goldsmith_, i. , and ii. . [ ] johnson thus writes of him (_works_, viii. ):--'the archbishop of dublin gave him at first some disturbance in the exercise of his jurisdiction; but it was soon discovered that between prudence and integrity he was seldom in the wrong; and that, when he was right, his spirit did not easily yield to opposition.' he adds: 'he delivered ireland from plunder and oppression, and showed that wit confederated with truth had such force as authority was unable to resist. he said truly of himself that ireland "was his debtor." it was from the time when he first began to patronise the irish, that they may date their riches and prosperity.' _ib_ p. . pope, in his _imitations of horace_, ii. i. , says:-- 'let ireland tell how wit upheld her cause, her trade supported, and supplied her laws; and leave on swift this grateful verse engraved, "the rights a court attacked, a poet saved."' [ ] these lines have been discovered by the author's second son in the _london magazine_ for july , where they form part of a poem on _retirement_, copied, with some slight variations, from one of walsh's smaller poems, entitled _the retirement_. they exhibit another proof that johnson retained in his memory fragments of neglected poetry. in quoting verses of that description, he appears by a slight variation to have sometimes given them a moral turn, and to have dexterously adapted them to his own sentiments, where the original had a very different tendency. in , when he was at brighthelmstone, he repeated to mr. metcalfe, some verses, as very characteristic of a celebrated historian [gibbon]. they are found among some anonymous poems appended to the second volume of a collection frequently printed by lintot, under the title of _pope's miscellanies_:-- 'see how the wand'ring danube flows, realms and religions parting; a friend to all true christian foes, to peter, jack, and martin. now protestant, and papist now, not constant long to either, at length an infidel does grow, and ends his journey neither. thus many a youth i've known set out, half protestant, half papist, and rambling long the world about, turn infidel or atheist.' malone. see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_, and boswell's _hebrides_ aug. , and oct. , . [ ] juvenal, _sat_. iii. . . 'yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend.' johnson's _london_, . . [ ] it was published without the authors name. [ ] 'what have we acquired? what but ... an island thrown aside from human use; ... an island which not the southern savages have dignified with habitation.' _works_, vi. . [ ] 'it is wonderful with what coolness and indifference the greater part of mankind see war commenced. those that hear of it at a distance, or read of it in books, but have never presented its evils to their minds, consider it as little more than a splendid game, a proclamation, an army, a battle, and a triumph. some, indeed, must perish in the most successful field, but they die upon the bed of honour, "resign their lives, amidst the joys of conquest, and, filled with england's glory, smile in death." the life of a modern soldier is ill-represented by heroic fiction. war has means of destruction more formidable than the cannon and the sword. of the thousands and ten thousands that perished in our late contests with france and spain, a very small part ever felt the stroke of an enemy; the rest languished in tents and ships, amidst damps and putrefaction; pale, torpid, spiritless, and helpless; gasping and groaning, unpitied among men made obdurate by long continuance of hopeless misery; and were at last whelmed in pits, or heaved into the ocean, without notice and without remembrance. by incommodious encampments and unwholesome stations, where courage is useless, and enterprise impracticable, fleets are silently dispeopled, and armies sluggishly melted away.' _works_, vi. . [ ] johnson wrote of the earl of chatham:--'this surely is a sufficient answer to the feudal gabble of a man who is every day lessening that splendour of character which once illuminated the kingdom, then dazzled, and afterwards inflamed it; and for whom it will be happy if the nation shall at last dismiss him to nameless obscurity, with that equipoise of blame and praise which corneille allows to richelieu.' _works_, vi. . [ ] _ephesians_, vi. . johnson (_works_, vi. ) calls junius 'one of the few writers of his despicable faction whose name does not disgrace the page of an opponent.' but he thus ends his attack;--'what, says pope, must be the priest where a monkey is the god? what must be the drudge of a party of which the heads are wilkes and crosby, sawbridge and townsend?' _ib_ p. . [ ] this softening was made in the later copies of the _first_ edition. a second change seems to have been made. in the text, as given in murphy's edition ( , viii. ), the last line of the passage stands:--'if he was sometimes wrong, he was often right.' horace walpole describes grenville's 'plodding, methodic genius, which made him take the spirit of detail for ability.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . for the fine character that burke drew of him see payne's _burke_, i. . there is, i think, a hit at lord bute's chancellor of the exchequer, sir f. dashwood (lord le despencer), who was described as 'a man to whom a sum of five figures was an impenetrable secret.' walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. , note. he himself said, 'people will point at me, and cry, "there goes the worst chancellor of the exchequer that ever appeared."' _ib_ p. . [ ] boswell, i suspect, quoted this passage from hearsay, for originally it stood:--'if he could have got the money, he could have counted it' (p. ). in the british museum there are copies of the first edition both _softened_ and _unsoftened_. [ ] _thoughts on the late transactions respecting falkland's islands_. boswell. [ ] by comparing the first with the subsequent editions, this curious circumstance of ministerial authorship may be discovered. boswell. [ ] _navigation_ was the common term for canals, which at that time were getting rapidly made. a writer in _notes and queries_, th, xi. , shows that langton, as payment of a loan, undertook to pay johnson's servant, frank, an annuity for life, secured on profits from the _navigation_ of the river wey in surrey. [ ] it was, mr. chalmers told me, a saying about that time, 'married a countess dowager of rothes!' 'why, everybody marries a countess dowager of rothes!' and there were in fact, about , three ladies of that name married to second husbands. croker. mr. langton married one of these ladies. [ ] _the hermit of warkworth: a ballad in three cantos_. t. davis, . d. cradock (_memoirs_, i. ) quotes johnson's parody on a stanza in _the hermit_: 'i put my hat upon my head, and walked into the strand, and there i met another man with his hat in his hand.' 'mr. garrick,' he continues, 'asked me whether i had seen johnson's criticism on the _hermit_. "it is already," said he, "over half the town."' [ ] '"i am told," says a letter-writer of the day, "that dr. goldsmith now generally lives with his countryman, lord clare, who has lost his only son, colonel nugent."' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . '_the haunch of venison_ was written this year ( ), and appears to have been written for lord clare alone; nor was it until two years after the writer's death that it obtained a wider audience than his immediate circle of friends.' _ib_ p. . see _post_, april , . [ ] gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) mentions mr. strahan:--'i agreed upon easy terms with mr. thomas cadell, a respectable bookseller, and mr. william strahan, an eminent printer, and they undertook the care and risk of the publication [of the _decline and fall_], which derived more credit from the name of the shop than from that of the author.... so moderate were our hopes, that the original impression had been stinted to five hundred, till the number was doubled by the prophetic taste of mr. strahan.' hume, by his will, left to strahan's care all his manuscripts, 'trusting,' he says, 'to the friendship that has long subsisted between us for his careful and faithful execution of my intentions.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . see _ib_. p. , for a letter written to hume on his death-bed by strahan. [ ] dr. franklin, writing of the year , says (_memoirs_, i. ):--'an acquaintance (mr. strahan, m.p.) calling on me, after having just been at the treasury, showed me what he styled _a pretty thing_, for a friend of his; it was an order for £ , payable to dr. johnson, said to be one half of his yearly pension.' [ ] see _post_, july , . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that mr. thrale made the same attempt. 'he had two meetings with the ministry, who at first seemed inclined to find johnson a seat.' 'lord stowell told me,' says mr. croker, 'that it was understood amongst johnson's friends that lord north was afraid that johnson's help (as he himself said of lord chesterfield's) might have been sometimes _embarrassing_. "he perhaps thought, and not unreasonably," added lord stowell, "that, like the elephant in the battle, he was quite as likely to trample down his friends as his foes."' lord stowell referred to johnson's letter to chesterfield (_ante_, i. ), in which he describes a patron as 'one who encumbers a man with help.' [ ] boswell married his cousin margaret montgomerie on nov. , . on the same day his father married for the second time. _scots mag_. for , p. . boswell, in his _letter to the people of scotland_ (p. ), published in , describes his wife as 'a true _montgomerie_, whom i esteem, whom i love, after fifteen years, as on the day when she gave me her hand.' see his _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'musis amicus, tristitiam et metus tradam, &c. while in the muse's friendship blest, nor fear, nor grief, shall break my rest; bear them, ye vagrant winds, away, and drown them in the cretan sea.' francis. horace, _odes_, i. . i. [ ] horace. _odes_, i. . . [ ] lord elibank wrote to boswell two years later:--'old as i am, i shall be glad to go five hundred miles to enjoy a day of mr. johnson's company.' boswell's _hebrides_ under date of sept. , . see _ib_. nov. , and _post_, april , . [ ] goldsmith wrote to langton on sept. , :--'johnson has been down upon a visit to a country parson, doctor taylor, and is returned to his old haunts at mrs. thrale's.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] while miss burney was examining a likeness of johnson, 'he no sooner discerned it than he began see-sawing for a moment or two in silence; and then, with a ludicrous half-laugh, peeping over her shoulder, he called out:--"ah, ha! sam johnson! i see thee!--and an ugly dog thou art!"' _memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. . in another passage (p. ), after describing 'the kindness that irradiated his austere and studious features into the most pleased and pleasing benignity,' as he welcomed her and her father to his house, she adds that a lady who was present often exclaimed, 'why did not sir joshua reynolds paint dr. johnson when he was speaking to dr. burney or to you?' [ ] 'johnson,' wrote beattie from london on sept. of this year, 'has been greatly misrepresented. i have passed several entire days with him, and found him extremely agreeable.' beattie's _life_, ed. , p. . [ ] he was preparing the fourth edition, see _post, march , . [ ] 'sept. , , at night. i am now come to my sixty-third year. for the last year i have been slowly recovering both from the violence of my last illness, and, i think, from the general disease of my life: ... some advances i hope have been made towards regularity. i have missed church since easter only two sundays.... but indolence and indifference has [sic] been neither conquered nor opposed.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] 'let us search and try our ways.' _lamentations_ iii. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. [ ]. boswell. [ ] boswell forgets the fourth edition of his _dictionary_. johnson, in aug. (_ante_, p. ), wrote to langton:--'i am engaging in a very great work, the revision of my _dictionary_.' in _pr. and med_. p. , at easter, , as he 'reviews the last year,' he records:--'of the spring and summer i remember that i was able in those seasons to examine and improve my _dictionary_, and was seldom withheld from the work but by my own unwillingness.' [ ] thus translated by a friend:-- 'in fame scarce second to the nurse of jove, this goat, who twice the world had traversed round, deserving both her masters care and love, ease and perpetual pasture now has found.' boswell. [ ] cockburn (_life of jeffrey_, i. ) says that the high school of edinburgh, in , 'was cursed by two under master, whose atrocities young men cannot be made to believe, but old men cannot forget, and the criminal law would not now endure.' [ ] mr. langton married the countess dowager of rothes. boswell. [ ] from school. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson used to say that schoolmasters were worse than the egyptian task-masters of old. 'no boy,' says he, 'is sure any day he goes to school to escape a whipping. how can the schoolmaster tell what the boy has really forgotten, and what he has neglected to learn?' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . 'i rejoice,' writes j. s. mill (_auto_. p. ), 'in the decline of the old, brutal, and tyrannical system of teaching, which, however, did succeed in enforcing habits of application; but the new, as it seems to me, is training up a race of men who be incapable of doing anything which is disagreeable to them.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] the ship in which mr. banks and dr. solander were to have sailed was the endeavour. it was, they said, unfit for the voyage. the admiralty altered it in such a way as to render it top-heavy. it was nearly overset on going down the river. then it was rendered safe by restoring it to its former condition. when the explorers raised their former objections, they were told to take it or none. _ann. reg_. xv. . see also boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] i suspect that _raleigh_ is here an error of mr. boswell's pen for _drake_. croker. johnson had written drake's _life_, and therefore must have had it well in mind that it was drake who went round the world. [ ] _romeo and juliet_, act v. sc. . [ ] 'to james boswell, esq. '_edinburgh_, may , . 'my dear sir, 'as i suppose your great work will soon be reprinted, i beg leave to trouble you with a remark on a passage of it, in which i am a little misrepresented. be not alarmed; the misrepresentation is not imputable to you. not having the book at hand, i cannot specify the page, but i suppose you will easily find it. dr. johnson says, speaking of mrs. thrale's family, "dr. beattie _sunk upon us_ that he was married, or words to that purpose." i am not sure that i understand _sunk upon us_, which is a very uncommon phrase, but it seems to me to imply, (and others, i find, have understood it in the same sense,) _studiously concealed from us his being married_. now, sir, this was by no means the case. i could have no motive to conceal a circumstance, of which i never was nor can be ashamed; and of which dr. johnson seemed to think, when he afterwards became acquainted with mrs. beattie, that i had, as was true, reason to be proud. so far was i from concealing her, that my wife had at that time almost as numerous an acquaintance in london as i had myself; and was, not very long after, kindly invited and elegantly entertained at streatham by mr. and mrs. thrale. 'my request, therefore, is, that you would rectify this matter in your new edition. you are at liberty to make what use you please of this letter. 'my best wishes ever attend you and your family. believe me to be, with the utmost regard and esteem, dear sir, 'your obliged and affectionate humble servant, j. beattie.' i have, from my respect for my friend dr. beattie, and regard to his extreme sensibility, inserted the foregoing letter, though i cannot but wonder at his considering as any imputation a phrase commonly used among the best friends. boswell. mr. croker says there was a cause for the 'extreme sensibility.' 'dr. beattie was conscious that there was something that might give a colour to such an imputation. it became known, shortly after the date of this letter, that the mind of mrs. beattie had become deranged.' beattie would have found in johnson's _dictionary_ an explanation of _sunk upon us_--'_to sink. to suppress; to conceal_. "if sent with ready money to buy anything, and you happen to be out of pocket, _sink_ the money and take up the goods on account."' swift's _rules to servants_, _works_, viii. . [ ] see _ante_, i . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, april , , note, and june , . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] _st. john_, xv. [ ] see note, p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] the petition was presented on feb. of this year. by a majority thrown of to leave was refused for it to be brought up. _parl. hist_. xvii. - . gibbon, in a letter dated feb. , (_misc. works_, ii. ), congratulates mr. holroyd 'on the late victory of our dear mamma, the church of england. she had, last thursday, rebellious sons, who pretended to set aside her will on account of insanity; but worthy champions, headed by lord north, burke, and charles fox, though they allowed the thirty-nine clauses of her testament were absurd and unreasonable, supported the validity of it with infinite humour. by the by, charles fox prepared himself for that holy war by passing twenty-two hours in the pious exercise of hazard; his devotion cost him only about £ per hour--in all, £ , .' see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'lord george germayne,' writes horace walpole, 'said that he wondered the house did not take some steps on this subject with regard to the universities, where boys were made to subscribe to the articles without reading them--a scandalous abuse.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] burke had thus answered boswell's proposal:--'what is that scripture to which they are content to subscribe? the bible is a vast collection of different treatises; a man who holds the divine authority of one may consider the other as merely human. therefore, to ascertain scripture you must have one article more, and you must define what that scripture is which you mean to teach.' _parl. hist_. xvii. . [ ] dr. nowell (_post_, june , ) had this year preached the fast sermon before the house of commons on jan. , the anniversary of the execution of charles i, and received the usual vote of thanks. _parl. hist. xvii_. . on feb. the entry of the vote was, without a division, ordered to be expunged. on the publication of the sermon it had been seen that nowell had asserted that george iii was endued with the same virtues as charles i, and that the members of the house were the descendants of those who had opposed that king. _ib_ p. , and _ann. reg_. xv. . on march , mr. montague moved for leave to bring in a bill to abolish the fast, but it was refused by to . _parl. hist_. xvii. . the fast was abolished in --thirteen years within the century that johnson was ready to allow it. 'it is remarkable,' writes horace walpole, 'that george iii had never from the beginning of his reign gone to church on the th of january, whereas george ii always did.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] this passage puzzled mr. croker and mr. lockhart. the following extract from the _gent. mag_. for feb. , p. , throws light on johnson's meaning:--'this, say the opposers of the bill, is putting it in the king's power to change the order of succession, as he may for ever prevent, if he is so minded, the elder branches of the family from marrying, and therefore may establish the succession in the younger. be this as it may, is it not, in fact, converting the holy institution of marriage into a mere state contract?' see also the protest of fourteen of the peers in _parl. hist_. xvii. , and _post_, april , . horace walpole ends his account of the marriage bill by saying:--'thus within three weeks were the thirty-nine articles affirmed and the new testament deserted.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . how carelessly this act was drawn was shown by lord eldon, when attorney-general, in the case of the marriage of the duke of sussex to lady augusta murray. 'lord thurlow said to me angrily at the privy council, "sir, why have you not prosecuted under the act of parliament all the parties concerned in this abominable marriage?" to which i answered, "that it was a very difficult business to prosecute--that the act had been drawn by lord mansfield and _mr. attorney-general thurlow_, and mr. solicitor-general wedderburne, and unluckily they had made all parties present at the marriage guilty of felony; and as nobody could prove the marriage except a person who had been present at it, there could be no prosecution, because nobody present could be compelled to be a witness." this put an end to the matter.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] see _post_, may , , and may , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , where johnson, discussing the same question, says:--'there is generally a _scoundrelism_ about a low man.' [ ] mackintosh told mr. croker that this friend was mr. cullen, afterwards a judge by the name of lord cullen. in _boswelliana_ (pp. - ), boswell mentions him thrice, and always as 'cullen the mimick.' his manner, he says, was wretched, and his physiognomy worse than wilkes's. dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) says that 'cullen possessed the talent of mimicry beyond all mankind; for his was not merely an exact imitation of voice and manner of speaking, but a perfect exhibition of every man's manner of thinking on every subject.' carlyle mentions two striking instances of this. [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] 'the prince of dublin printers,' as swift called him. swift's _works_ ( ), xviii. . he was taken off by foote under the name of peter paragraph, in _the orators_, the piece in which he had meant to take off johnson (_ante_, ii. ). 'faulkner consoled himself (pending his prosecution of the libeller) by printing the libel, and selling it most extensively.' forster's _goldsmith_, i. . see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] faulkner had lost one of his legs. 'when foote had his accident (_ante_, ii. ), "now i shall take off old faulkner indeed to the life," was the first remark he made when what he had to suffer was announced to him.' forster's _essays_, ii. . [ ] a writer in the _monthly review_, lxxvi. (no doubt murphy), says:--'a large number of friends such as johnson, mr. burke, and mr. murphy dined at garrick's at christmas, . foote was then in dublin. it was said at table that he had been horse-whipped by an apothecary for taking him off upon the stage. "but i wonder," said garrick, "that any man would show so much resentment to foote; nobody ever thought it worth his while to quarrel with him in london." "and i am glad," said johnson, "to find that the man is rising in the world." the anecdote was afterwards told to foote, who in return gave out that he would in a short time produce the caliban of literature on the stage. being informed of this design, johnson sent word to foote, that, the theatre being intended for the reformation of vice, he would go from the boxes on the stage, and correct him before the audience, foote abandoned the design. no ill-will ensued.' [ ] see _post_, may , , where johnson says:--'i turned boswell loose at lichfield, my native city, that he might see for once real _civility_. [ ] in my list of boswell's projected works (_ante_, i. , note ) i have omitted this. [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] boswell visited ireland in the summer of . prior's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] puffendorf states that 'tutors and schoolmasters have a right to the moderate use of gentle discipline over their pupils'--viii. - ; adding, rather superfluously, grotius's _caveat_, that 'it shall not extend to a power of death.' croker. [ ] the brother of sir j. macdonald, mentioned _ante_, i. . johnson visited him in the isle of skye. 'he had been very well pleased with him in london, but he was dissatisfied at hearing heavy complaints of rents racked, and the people driven to emigration.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . he reproached him also with meanness as a host. [ ] lord campbell (_lives of the chancellors_, v. ) points out that this conversation followed close on the appointment of 'the incompetent bathurst' as chancellor. 'such a conversation,' he adds, 'would not have occurred during the chancellorship of lord hardwicke or lord somers.' [ ] 'but if at first he minds his hits, and drinks champagne among the wits,' &c. prior's _chameleon_, . . [ ] 'plain truth, _dear murray_, needs no flowers of speech.' pope thus addresses him in epistle vi. book i. of his _imitations of horace_, which he dedicated to him. [ ] see _ante_, . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] afterwards lord ashburton. described by johnson (_post_, july , ), as 'mr. dunning, the great lawyer.' [ ] 'having cleared his tongue from his native pronunciation, so as to be no longer distinguished as a scot, he seems inclined to disencumber himself from all adherences of his original, and took upon him to change his name from scotch _malloch_ to english _mallet_, without any imaginable reason of preference which the eye or ear can discover. what other proofs he gave of disrespect to his native country i know not, but it was remarked of him that he was the only scot whom scotchmen did not commend.' johnson's _works_, viii. . see _ante_, i. , and _post_, april , . [ ] mr. love was, so far as is known, the first who advised boswell to keep a journal. when boswell was but eighteen, writing of a journey he had taken, he says: 'i kept an exact journal, at the particular desire of my friend, mr. love, and sent it to him in sheets every post.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] 'that's villainous, and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it.' _hamlet_, iii. . [ ] jeffrey wrote from oxford, where he spent nine months in - :--'the only part of a scotchman i mean to abandon is the language, and language is all i expect to learn in england.' (cockburn's _jeffrey_, i. ). his biographer says:--'he certainly succeeded in the abandonment of his habitual scotch. the change was so sudden and so complete, that it excited the surprise of his friends, and furnished others with ridicule for many years.... the result, on the whole, was exactly as described by lord holland, who said that though jeffrey "had lost the broad scotch at oxford, he had only gained the narrow english."' cockburn, in forgetfulness of mallet's case, says that 'the acquisition of a pure english accent by a full-grown scotchman is fortunately impossible.' [ ] henry dundas, afterwards viscount melville. see _post_, under nov. , . boswell wrote to temple on may , :--'harry dundas is going to be made king's advocate--lord advocate at thirty-three! i cannot help being angry and somewhat fretful at this; he has, to be sure, strong parts, but he is a coarse, unlettered, unfanciful dog.' _letters of boswell_, p. . horace walpole describes him as 'the rankest of all scotchmen, and odious for that bloody speech that had fixed on him the nick-name of _starvation_! _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . on p. he adds:--'the happily coined word "starvation" delivered a whole continent from the northern harpies that meant to devour it.' the speech in which dundas introduced _starvation_ was made in . walpole's _letters_, viii. . see _parl. hist_., xviii. . his character is drawn with great force by cockburn. _life of jeffrey_, i. . [ ] the correspondent of hume. see j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] in the _plan_ (works, v. ), johnson noticed the difference of the pronunciation of _great_. 'some words have two sounds which may be equally admitted as being equally defensible by authority. thus _great_ is differently used:-- 'for swift and him despised the farce of state, the sober follies of the wise and great.'--pope. 'as if misfortune made the throne her seat, and none could be unhappy but the great.'--rowe. in the _preface to the dictionary_ (_works_, v. ), johnson says that 'the vowels are capriciously pronounced, and differently modified by accident or affectation, not only in every province, but in every mouth.' swift gives both rhymes within ten lines:-- 'my lord and he are grown so great-- always together, tête-à-tête.' * * * * * 'you, mr. dean, frequent the great, inform us, will the emperor treat?' swift's _works_ ( ), x. . [ ] 'dr. henry more, of cambridge, johnson did not much affect; he was a platonist, and, in johnson's opinion, a visionary. he would frequently cite from him, and laugh at, a passage to this effect:--"at the consummation of all things, it shall come to pass that eternity shall shake hands with opacity"' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] see _post_, april , , and may , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] _revelations_, xiv. . [ ] johnson, in _the rambler_, no. , describes man's death as 'a change not only of the place, but the manner of his being; an entrance into a state not simply which he knows not, but which perhaps he has not faculties to know.' [ ] this fiction is known to have been invented by daniel defoe, and was added to drelincourt's book, to make it sell. the first edition had it not. malone. 'more than fifty editions have not exhausted its popularity. the hundreds of thousands who have bought the silly treatise of drelincourt have borne unconscious testimony to the genius of de foe.' forster's _essays_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in his _life of akenside ( works_, viii. ) he says:--'of akenside's _odes_ nothing favourable can be said.... to examine such compositions singly cannot be required; they have doubtless brighter and darker parts; but when they are once found to be generally dull, all further labour may be spared; for to what use can the work be criticised that will not be read?' see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, just before may , . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] the account of his trial is entitled:--'_the grand question in religion considered. whether we shall obey god or man; christ or the pope; the prophets and apostles, or prelates and priests. humbly offered to the king and parliament of great britain. by e. elwall. with an account of the author's tryal or prosecution at stafford assizes before judge denton. london.'_ no date. elwall seems to have been a unitarian quaker. he was prosecuted for publishing a book against the doctrines of the trinity, but was discharged, being, he writes, treated by the judge with great humanity. in his pamphlet he says (p. ):--'you see what i have already done in my former book. i have challenged the greatest potentates on earth, yea, even the king of great britain, whose true and faithful subject i am in all temporal things, and whom i love and honour; also his noble and valiant friend, john argyle, and his great friends robert walpole, charles wager, and arthur onslow; all these can speak well, and who is like them; and yet, behold, none of all these cared to engage with their friend elwall.' see _post_, may , . dr. priestley had received an account of the trial from a gentleman who was present, who described elwall as 'a tall man, with white hair, a large beard and flowing garments, who struck everybody with respect. he spoke about an hour with great gravity, fluency, and presence of mind.' the trial took place, he said, in . 'it is impossible,' adds priestley (_works_, ed. , ii. ), 'for an unprejudiced person to read elwall's account of his trial, without feeling the greatest veneration for the writer.' in truth, elwall spoke with all the simple power of the best of the early quakers. [ ] boswell, in the _hypochrondriack_ (_london mag_. , p. ), writing on swearing, says:--'i have the comfort to think that my practice has been blameless in this respect.' he continues (p. ):-- 'to do the present age justice, there is much less swearing among genteel people than in the last age.' [ ] 'the _life of dr. parnell_ is a task which i should very willingly decline, since it has been lately written by goldsmith, a man of such variety of powers, and such felicity of performance, that he always seemed to do best that which he was doing.... what such an author has told, who would tell again? i have made an abstract from his larger narrative, and have this gratification from my attempt, that it gives me an opportunity of paying due tribute to the memory of goldsmith. [greek: togargerasesti thanonton].' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, april , . [ ] 'mr. ruffhead says of fine passages that they are fine, and of feeble passages that they are feeble; but recommending poetical beauty is like remarking the splendour of sunshine; to those who can see it is unnecessary, and to those who are blind, absurd.' _gent. mag_. may, , p. . the review in which this passage occurs, is perhaps in part johnson's. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] it was lewis xiv who said it. 'toutes les fois que je donne une place vacante, je fais cent mecontens et un ingrat.' voltaire, _siecle de louis xiv_, ch. . 'when i give away a place,' said lewis xiv, 'i make an hundred discontented, and one ungrateful.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] this project has since been realized. sir henry liddel, who made a spirited tour into lapland, brought two rein-deer to his estate in northumberland, where they bred; but the race has unfortunately perished. boswell. [ ] dr. johnson seems to have meant the address to the reader with a key subjoined to it; which have been prefixed to the modern editions of that play. he did not know, it appears, that several additions were made to _the rehearsal_ after the first edition. malone. in his _life of dryden_ (_works_, vii. ) johnson writes:--'buckingham characterised dryden in by the name of bayes in _the rehearsal_.... it is said that this farce was originally intended against davenant, who in the first draught was characterised by the name of bilboa.... it is said, likewise, that sir robert howard was once meant. the design was probably to ridicule the reigning poet, whoever he might be. much of the personal satire, to which it might owe its first reception, is now lost or obscured.' [ ] 'the pantheon,' wrote horace walpole (_letters_, v. ), a year later than this conversation, 'is still the most beautiful edifice in england.' gibbon, a few weeks before johnson's visit to the pantheon, wrote:--'in point of _ennui_ and magnificence, the pantheon is the wonder of the eighteenth century and of the british empire.' gibbon's _misc. works_, ii. . evelina, in miss burners novel (vol. i. letter xxiii.) contrasts the pantheon and ranelagh:--'i was extremely struck on entering the pantheon with the beauty of the building, which greatly surpassed whatever i could have expected or imagined. yet it has more the appearance of a chapel than of a place of diversion; and, though i was quite charmed with the magnificence of the room, i felt that i could not be as gay and thoughtless there as at ranelagh; for there is something in it which rather inspires awe and solemnity than mirth and pleasure.' ranelagh was at chelsea, the pantheon was in oxford-street. see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] her husband, squire godfrey bosville, boswell (_post_, aug. , ), calls 'my yorkshire _chief_.' their daughter was one of the young ladies whom he passes in review in his letters to temple. 'what say you to my marrying? i intend next autumn to visit miss bosville in yorkshire; but i fear, my lot being cast in scotland, that beauty would not be content. she is, however, grave; i shall see.' _letters of boswell_, p. . she married sir a. macdonald, johnson's inhospitable host in sky (_ante_, ii. ). [ ] in _the adventurer_, no. , johnson, after describing 'a gay assembly,' continues:--'the world in its best state is nothing more than a larger assembly of beings, combining to counterfeit happiness which they do not feel.' _works_, iv. . [ ] 'sir adam fergusson, who by a strange coincidence of chances got in to be member of parliament for ayrshire in , was the great-grandson of a messenger. i was talking with great indignation that the whole (? old) families of the county should be defeated by an upstart.' _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . hume wrote of the judgment of charles i. (_hist. of eng_. vii. ):--'if ever, on any occasion, it were laudable to conceal truth from the populace, it must be confessed that the doctrine of resistance affords such an example; and that all speculative reasoners ought to observe with regard to this principle the same cautious silence which the laws in every species of government have ever prescribed to themselves.' [ ] 'all foreigners remark that the knowledge of the common people of england is greater than that of any other vulgar. this superiority we undoubtedly owe to the rivulets of intelligence [i. e. the newspapers] which are continually trickling among us, which every one may catch, and of which every one partakes.' _idler_, no. . in a later number ( ), he speaks very contemptuously of news-writers. 'in sir henry wotton's jocular definition, _an ambassador is said to be a man of virtue sent abroad to tell lies for the advantage of his country. a newswriter is _a man without virtue, who writes lies at home for his own profit_.' [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] probably mr. elphinston. see _ante_, i. , _post_, april , , and april i, . dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ) wrote of a friend:--'he had overcome many disadvantages of his education, for he had been sent to a jacobite seminary of one elphinstone at kensington, where his body was starved and his mind also. he returned to edinburgh to college. he had hardly a word of latin, and was obliged to work hard with a private tutor.' [ ] 'in progress of time abel sampson, _probationer_ of divinity, was admitted to the privileges of a preacher.' _guy mannering_, chap. ii. [ ] in his dictionary he defines _heinous_ as _atrocious; wicked in a high degree_. [ ] _ephesians_, v. . [ ] his second definition of _whoremonger_ is _one who converses with a fornicatress_. [ ] it must not be presumed that dr. johnson meant to give any countenance to licentiousness, though in the character of an advocate he made a just and subtle distinction between occasional and habitual transgression. boswell. [ ] erskine was born in , entered the navy in , the army in , he matriculated at trinity college, cambridge, in , was called to the bar in , was made a king's counsel in , and lord chancellor in . he died in . campbell's _chancellors_, vi. - . [ ] johnson had called churchill 'a blockhead.' _ante_, i. . 'i have remarked,' said miss reynolds, 'that his dislike of anyone seldom prompted him to say much more than that the fellow is a blockhead.' croker's _boswell_, p. . in like manner goldsmith called sterne a blockhead; for mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, i. ) is, no doubt, right in saying that the author of _tristram shandy_ is aimed at in the following passage in _the citizen of the world_ (letter, ):--'in england, if a bawdy blockhead thus breaks in on the community, he sets his whole fraternity in a roar; nor can he escape even though he should fly to nobility for shelter.' that johnson did not think so lowly of fielding's powers is shown by a compliment that he paid miss burney, on one of the characters in _evelina_. '"oh, mr. smith, mr. smith is the man!" cried he, laughing violently. "harry fielding never drew so good a character!"' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] richardson wrote of fielding (_corres_, vi. ):--'poor fielding! i could not help telling his sister that i was equally surprised at and concerned for his continued lowness. had your brother, said i, been born in a stable, or been a runner at a sponging-house, we should have thought him a genius, and wished he had had the advantage of a liberal education, and of being admitted into good company.' other passages show richardson's dislike or jealousy of fielding. thus he wrote:--'you guess that i have not read _amelia_. indeed, i have read but the first volume. i had intended to go through with it; but i found the characters and situations so wretchedly low and dirty that i imagined i could not be interested for any one of them.' _ib_ iv. . 'so long as the world will receive, mr. fielding will write,' _ib_ p. . [ ] hannah more wrote in (_memoirs_, i. ), 'i never saw johnson really angry with me but once. i alluded to some witty passage in _tom jones_; he replied, "i am shocked to hear you quote from so vicious a book. i am sorry to hear you have read it: a confession which no modest lady should ever make. i scarcely know a more corrupt work!" he went so far as to refuse to fielding the great talents which are ascribed to him, and broke out into a noble panegyric on his competitor, richardson; who, he said, was as superior to him in talents as in virtue; and whom he pronounced to be the greatest genius that had shed its lustre on this path of literature.' yet miss burney in her preface to _evelina_ describes herself as 'exhilarated by the wit of fielding and humour of smollett.' it is strange that while johnson thus condemned fielding, he should 'with an ardent and liberal earnestness' have revised smollett's epitaph. boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . macaulay in his _speech on copyright_ (_writings and speeches_, p. ) said of richardson's novels:--'no writings have done more to raise the fame of english genius in foreign countries. no writings are more deeply pathetic. no writings, those of shakespeare excepted, show more profound knowledge of the human heart.' horace. walpole (_letters_, iv. ), on the other hand, spoke of richardson as one 'who wrote those deplorably tedious lamentations, _clarissa_ and _sir charles grandison_, which are pictures of high life as conceived by a bookseller, and romances as they would be spiritualised by a methodist teacher.' lord chesterfield says of _sir charles grandison_, that 'it is too long, and there is too much mere talk in it. whenever he goes _ultra crepidam_ into high life, he grossly mistakes the modes; but to do him justice he never mistakes nature, and he has surely great knowledge and skill both in painting and in interesting the heart.' _ib_ note. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _amelia_ he read through without stopping. _post_, april , . shenstone (_works_, iii. ) writes of 'the tedious character of parson adams,' and calls the book 'a very mean performance; of which the greater part is unnatural and unhumorous.' [ ] johnson wrote to richardson of _clarissa_, 'though the story is long, every letter is short.' he begged him to add an _index rerum_, 'for _clarissa_ is not a performance to be read with eagerness, and laid aside for ever; but will be occasionally consulted by the busy, the aged, and the studious.' richardson's _corres_, v. . [ ] 'our immortal fielding was of the younger branch of the earls of denbigh, who draw their origin from the counts of habsburg, the lineal descendants of eltrico, in the seventh century duke of alsace. far different have been the fortunes of the english and german divisions of the family of habsburg: the former, the knights and sheriffs of leicestershire, have slowly risen to the dignity of a peerage: the latter, the emperors of germany and kings of spain, have threatened the liberty of the old, and invaded the treasures of the new world. the successors of charles the fifth may disdain their brethren of england; but the romance of _tom jones_, that exquisite picture of human manners, will outlive the palace of the escurial, and the imperial eagle of the house of austria.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . richardson, five years after _tom jones_ was published, wrote (_corres_, v. ):--'its run is over, even with us. is it true that france had virtue enough to refuse a license for such a profligate performance?' [ ] mr. samuel paterson, eminent for his knowledge of books. boswell. in the first two editions this note does not appear, but mr. paterson is described as 'the auctioneer.' see _post_, aug. , . [ ] mr. paterson, in a pamphlet, produced some evidence to shew that his work was written before sterne's _sentimental journey_ appeared. boswell. [ ] _coryat's crudities hastily gobled up in five moneths trauells in france, sauoy, italy, etc. london_, . [ ] 'lord erskine,' says mr. croker, 'was fond of this anecdote. he told it to me the first time that i was in his company, and often repeated it, boasting that he had been a sailor, a soldier, a lawyer, and a parson.' [ ] , . _kings_, xix. . [ ] lord chatham wrote on oct. , , to lord shelburne that he 'had extremely at heart to obtain this post for lord cardross, a young nobleman of great talents, learning, and accomplishments, and son of the earl of buchan, an intimate friend of lord chatham, from the time they were students together at utrecht.' _chatham corres_. iii. . horace walpole wrote on oct. , 'sir james gray goes to madrid. the embassy has been sadly hawked about it.' walpole's _letters_, v. . 'sir james gray's father was first a box-keeper, and then footman to james ii.' _ib_ ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , for johnson's attack on lord chatham's 'feudal gabble.' [ ] in boswell's _hebrides_, on aug. , , johnson makes much the same answer to a like statement by boswell. see _post_, march , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , , and _post_, april , . [ ] 'i cannot,' wrote john wesley, (_journal_, iv. ), 'give up to all deists in great britain the existence of witchcraft, till i give up the credit of all history, sacred and profane. and at the present time, i have not only as strong but stronger proofs of this from eye and ear witnesses than i have of murder; so that i cannot rationally doubt of one any more the than the other.' [ ] see this curious question treated by him with most acute ability, _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. . [aug. .] boswell. johnson, in his _observations on macbeth_ (_works_, v. - ), shews his utter disbelief in witchcraft. 'these phantoms,' he writes, 'have indeed appeared more frequently in proportion as the darkness of ignorance has been more gross; but it cannot be shewn that the brightest gleams of knowledge have at any time been sufficient to drive them out of the world.' he describes the spread of the belief in them in the middle ages, and adds:--'the reformation did not immediately arrive at its meridian, and though day was gradually increasing upon us, the goblins of witchcraft still continued to hover in the twilight.' see _post_, april , and , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] the passage to which johnson alluded is to be found (i conjecture) in the _phoenissae_, i. . j. boswell, jun. [ ] boswell (_letters_, p. ), on june , , described to temple the insults of that 'brutal fellow,' lord lonsdale, and continued:--'in my fretfulness i used such expressions as irritated him almost to fury, so that he used such expressions towards me that i should have, according to the irrational laws of honour sanctioned by the world, been under the necessity of risking my life, had not an explanation taken place.' boswell's eldest son, sir alexander boswell, lost his life in a duel. [ ] johnson might have quoted the lieutenant in _tom jones_, book vii. chap. . 'my dear boy, be a good christian as long as you live: but be a man of honour too, and never put up an affront; not all the books, nor all the parsons in the world, shall ever persuade me to that. i love my religion very well, but i love my honour more. there must be some mistake in the wording of the text, or in the translation, or in the understanding it, or somewhere or other. but however that be, a man must run the risk, for he must preserve his honour.' see _post_, april , , and april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] oglethorpe was born in . in he entered the army. prince eugene's campaigns against the turks in which oglethorpe served were in - . rose's _biog. dict_. vii. and x. . he was not therefore quite so young as boswell thought. [ ] in the first two editions _bender_. belgrade was taken by eugene in . [ ] 'idem velle atque idem nolle ea demum firma amicitia est.' sallust, _catilina_, xx. . [ ] more than one conjecture has been hazarded as to the passage to which johnson referred. i believe that he was thinking of the lines-- 'et variis albae junguntur saepe columbae; et niger a viridi turtur amatur ave.' _sappho to phaon_, line . 'turtles and doves of differing hues unite, and glossy jet is paired with shining white.' (pope.) goldsmith had said that people to live in friendship together must have the same likings and aversions. johnson thereupon calls to mind sappho, who had shown that there could be love where there was little likeness. [ ] it was not published till after goldsmith's death. it is in the list of new books in the _gent. mag_. for aug. , p. . see _post_, under june , , the note on goldsmith's epitaph. [ ] 'upon my opening the door the young women broke off their discourse, but my landlady's daughters telling them that it was nobody but the gentleman (for that is the name that i go by in the neighbourhood as well as in the family), they went on without minding me.' _spectator_, no. . [ ] the author also of the _ballad of cumnor hall_. see scott's _introduction to kenilworth. bishop horne says that 'mickle inserted in the _lusiad_ an angry note against garrick, who, as he thought, had used him ill by rejecting a tragedy of his.' shortly afterwards, he saw garrick act for the first time. the play was _lear_. 'during the first three acts he said not a word. in a fine passage of the fourth he fetched a deep sigh, and turning to a friend, "i wish," said he, "the note was out of my book."' horne's _essays_, ed. , p. . see _post_, under dec. , , and garrick's letter in boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] the farmer's son told mr. prior that 'he had felt much reluctance in erasing during necessary repairs these memorials.' prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] here was a blank, which may be filled up thus:--'_was told by an apparition_;'--the writer being probably uncertain whether he was asleep or awake, when his mind was impressed with the solemn presentiment with which the fact afterwards happened so wonderfully to correspond. boswell. 'lord hardinge, when secretary at war,' writes mr. croker, 'informed me, that it appears that colonel sir thomas prendergast, of the twenty-second foot, was killed at malplaquet, aug. , ; but no trace can be found of any _colonel_ cecil in the army at that period. colonel w. cecil, who was sent to the tower in , could hardly have been, in , of the age and rank which oglethorpe's anecdote seems to imply.' prendergast, or prendergrass, in the year , informed the government of the plot to assassinate william iii., in which friend was one of the leaders. macaulay (_hist. of eng_. chap. ), calls prendergrass 'a roman catholic gentleman of known courage and honour.' swift, attacking prendergast's son, attacks prendergast himself:-- 'what! thou the spawn of him who shamed our isle, traitor, assassin, and informer vile.' swift's _works_, xi. . [ ] locke says:--'when once it comes to be a trial of skill, contest for mastery betwixt you and your child, you must be sure to carry it, whatever blows it costs, if a nod or words will not prevail.' he continues:--'a prudent and kind mother of my acquaintance was, on such an occasion, forced to whip her little daughter, at her first coming home from nurse, eight times successively the same morning, before she could master her stubbornness, and obtain a compliance in a very easy and indifferent matter.... as this was the first time, so i think it was the last, too, she ever struck her.' _locke on education_ (ed. ), p. . [ ] andrew crosbie, arguing for the schoolmaster, had said:--'supposing it true that the respondent had been provoked to use a little more severity than he wished to do, it might well be justified on account of the ferocious and rebellious behaviour of his scholars, some of whom cursed and swore at him, and even went so far as to wrestle with him, in which case he was under a necessity of subduing them as he best could.' _scotch appeal cases_, xvii. p. . the judgment of the house of lords is given in paton's _reports of cases upon appeal from scotland_, ii. , as follows:--'a schoolmaster, appointed by the magistrates and town council of cambelton, without any mention being made as to whether his office was for life or at pleasure: held that it was a public office, and that he was liable to be dismissed for a just and reasonable cause, and that acts of cruel chastisement of the boys were a justifiable cause for his dismissal; reversing the judgment of the court of session.... the proof led before his dismission went to shew that scarce a day passed without some of the scholars coming home with their heads cut, and their bodies discoloured. he beat his pupils with wooden squares, and sometimes with his fists, and used his feet by kicking them, and dragged them by the hair of the head. he had also entered into the trade of cattle grazing and farming--dealt in black cattle--in the shipping business--and in herring fishing.' [ ] these six methodists were in expelled st. edmund's hall, by the vice-chancellor, acting as 'visitor.' nominally they were expelled for their ignorance; in reality for their active methodism. that they were 'mighty ignorant fellows' was shown, but ignorance was tolerated at oxford. one of their number confessed his ignorance, and declined all examination. but 'as he was represented to be a man of fortune, and declared that he was not designed for holy orders, the vice-chancellor did not think fit to remove him for this reason only, though he was supposed to be one of "the righteous over-much."' _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, pp. - . horace walpole, whig though he was, thought as johnson. 'oxford,' he wrote (_letters_ v. ), 'has begun with these rascals, and i hope cambridge will wake.' [ ] much such an expulsion as this johnson had justified in his _life of cheynel_ (_works_, vi. ). 'a temper of this kind,' he wrote, 'is generally inconvenient and offensive in any society, but in a place of education is least to be tolerated ... he may be justly driven from a society, by which he thinks himself too wise to be governed, and in which he is too young to teach, and too opinionative to learn.' [ ] johnson wrote far otherwise of the indulgence shown to edmund smith, the poet. 'the indecency and licentiousness of his behaviour drew upon him, dec. , , while he was yet only bachelor, a publick admonition, entered upon record, in order to his expulsion. of this reproof the effect is not known. he was probably less notorious. at oxford, as we all know, much will be forgiven to literary merit.... of his lampoon upon dean aldrich, [smith was a christ-church man], i once heard a single line too gross to be repeated. but he was still a genius and a scholar, and oxford was unwilling to lose him; he was endured with all his pranks and his vices two years longer; but on dec. , , at the instance of all the canons, the sentence declared five years before was put in execution. the execution was, i believe, silent and tender.' _works_, vii. - . [ ] see post, p. , note i. [ ] 'our bottle-conversation,' wrote addison, 'is infected with party-lying.' _the spectator_, no. . [ ] mrs. piozzi, in her _anecdotes_, p. , has given an erroneous account of this incident, as of many others. she pretends to relate it from recollection, as if she herself had been present; when the fact is that it was communicated to her by me. she has represented it as a personality, and the true point has escaped her. boswell. she tells the story against boswell. 'i fancy mr. b---- has not forgotten,' she writes. [ ] see post, april , . [ ] johnson, in his dictionary, defines _manufacturer_ as a _workman; an artificer_. [ ] johnson had no fear of popular education. in his attack on jenyns's _enquiry_ (ante, i. ), he wrote (_works_, vi. ):--'though it should be granted that those who are _born to poverty and drudgery_ should not be _deprived_ by an _improper education_ of the _opiate_ of _ignorance_, even this concession will not be of much use to direct our practice, unless it be determined, who are those that are _born to poverty_. to entail irreversible poverty upon generation after generation, only because the ancestor happened to be poor, is in itself cruel, if not unjust.... i am always afraid of determining on the side of envy or cruelty. the privileges of education may sometimes be improperly bestowed, but i shall always fear to withhold them, lest i should be yielding to the suggestions of pride, while i persuade myself that i am following the maxims of policy.' in _the idler_, no. , he attacked those who 'hold it little less than criminal to teach poor girls to read and write,' and who say that 'they who are born to poverty are born to ignorance, and will work the harder the less they know.' [ ] tacitus's agricola, ch. xii, was no doubt quoted in reference to the shortness of the northern winter day. [ ] it is remarkable, that lord monboddo, whom, on account of his resembling dr. johnson in some particulars, foote called an elzevir edition of him, has, by coincidence, made the very same remark. _origin and progress of language_, vol. iii. nd ed. p. . boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , note. [ ] on saturday night johnson recorded:--'i resolved last easter to read within the year the whole bible, a very great part of which i had never looked upon. i read the greek testament without construing, and this day concluded the apocalypse.... easter day. after twelve at night. the day is now begun on which i hope to begin a new course, [greek: hosper aph husplaeggon], [as if from the starting-place.] my hopes are from this time-- to rise early, to waste less time, to appropriate something to charity.' a week later he recorded:--'it is a comfort to me that at last, in my sixty-third year, i have attained to know even thus hastily, confusedly, and imperfectly, what my bible contains. i have never yet read the apocrypha. i have sometimes looked into the maccabees, and read a chapter containing the question, _which is the strongest?_ i think, in esdras' [i esdras, ch. iii. v. ]. _pr. and med_. pp. - . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. iii. boswell. [ ] 'perfect through sufferings.' _hebrews_, ii. . [ ] 'i was always so incapable of learning mathematics,' wrote horace walpole (_letters_, ix. ), 'that i could not even get by heart the multiplication table, as blind professor sanderson honestly told me, above three-score years ago, when i went to his lectures at cambridge. after the first fortnight he said to me, "young man, it would be cheating you to take your money; for you never can learn what i am trying to teach you." i was exceedingly mortified, and cried; for, being a prime minister's son, i had firmly believed all the flattery with which i had been assured that my parts were capable of anything.' [ ] reynolds said:--'out of the great number of critics in this metropolis who all pretend to knowledge in pictures, the greater part must be mere pretenders only. taste does not come by chance; it is a long and laborious task to acquire it.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] 'jemmy boswell,' wrote john scott (afterwards lord eldon), 'called upon me, desiring to know what would be my definition of taste. i told him i must decline defining it, because i knew he would publish it. he continued his importunities in frequent calls, and in one complained much that i would not give him it, as he had that morning got henry dundas's, sir a. macdonald's, and j. anstruther's definitions. "well, then," i said, "boswell, we must have an end of this. taste, according to my definition, is the judgment which dundas, macdonald, anstruther, and you manifested when you determined to quit scotland and to come into the south. you may publish this if you please."' twiss's _eldon_, i. . see _post_, april , , note for lord eldon. [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) says that 'swift's delight was in simplicity. that he has in his works no metaphor, as has been said, is not true; but his few metaphors seem to be received rather by necessity than choice. he studied purity.... his style was well suited to his thoughts.... he pays no court to the passions; he excites neither surprise nor admiration; he always understands himself, and his reader always understands him; the peruser of swift wants little previous knowledge; it will be sufficient that he is acquainted with common words and common things; ... [his style] instructs, but it does not persuade.' hume describes swift's style as one which he 'can approve, but surely can never admire. it has no harmony, no eloquence, no ornament, and not much correctness, whatever the english may imagine.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] johnson's works, v. . [ ] dr. warton wrote on jan. , :--'garrick is entirely off from johnson, and cannot, he says, forgive him his insinuating that he withheld his old editions, which always were open to him; nor, i suppose, his never mentioning him in all his works.' wooll's _warton_, p. . beauclerk wrote to lord charlemont in :--'if you do not come here, i will bring all the club over to ireland to live with you, and that will drive you here in your own defence, johnson _shall spoil your books_, goldsmith pull your flowers, and boswell talk to you: stay then if you can.' charlemont's _life_, i. . yet garrick had lent johnson some books, for johnson wrote to him on oct. , :--'i return you thanks for the present of the _dictionary_, and will take care to return you [qu. your] other books.' _garrick corres_, i. . steevens, who had edited johnson's _shakespeare_, wrote to garrick:--'i have taken the liberty to introduce your name, because _i have found_ no reason to say that the possessors of the old quartos were not sufficiently communicative.' _ib_ p. . mme. d'arblay describes how 'garrick, giving a thundering stamp on some mark on the carpet that struck his eye--not with passion or displeasure, but merely as if from singularity--took off dr. johnson's voice in a short dialogue with himself that had passed the preceding week. "david! will you lend me your _petrarca_?" "y-e-s, sir!" "david! you sigh?" "sir--you shall have it certainly." "accordingly," mr. garrick continued, "the book, stupendously bound, i sent to him that very evening. but scarcely had he taken it in his hands, when, as boswell tells me, he poured forth a greek ejaculation and a couplet or two from horace, and then in one of those fits of enthusiasm which always seem to require that he should spread his arms aloft, he suddenly pounces my poor _petrarca_ over his head upon the floor. and then, standing for several minutes lost in abstraction, he forgot probably that he had ever seen it."' dr. burney's _memoirs_, i. . see _post_, under aug. , . [ ] the gentleman most likely is boswell (_ante_, ii. , note ). i suspect that this anecdote belongs to _ante_, april , when 'johnson was not in the most genial humour.' boswell, while showing that mrs. piozzi misrepresented an incident of that evening 'as a personality,' would be afraid of weakening his case by letting it be seen that johnson on that occasion was very personal. since writing this i have noticed that dr. t. campbell records in his _diary_, p. , that on april , , he was dining at mr. thrale's with boswell, when many of johnson's 'bon-mots were retailed. boswell arguing in favour of a cheerful glass, adduced the maxim _in vino veritas_. "well," says johnson, "and what then, unless a man has lived a lie." boswell then urged that it made a man forget all his cares. "that to be sure," says johnson, "might be of use, if a man sat by such a person as you."' campbell's account confirms what boswell asserts (_ante_, ii. ) that mrs. piozzi had the anecdote from him. [ ] no. . the quotation is from francis osborne's _advice to a son_. swift, in _the tatler_, no. , ranks osborne with some other authors, who 'being men of the court, and affecting the phrases then in fashion, are often either not to be understood, or appear perfectly ridiculous.' [ ] see post, may , , and june , . [ ] mrs. piozzi, to whom i told this anecdote, has related it, as if the gentleman had given 'the _natural history of the mouse_.' _anec_. p. . boswell. the gentleman was very likely dr. vansittart, who is mentioned just before. (see _ante_, i. , note .) mrs. thrale, in , wrote to johnson of 'the man that saw the mouse.' piozzi _letters_, i. . from johnson's answer (_ib_. p. ) it seems that she meant vansittart. mr. croker says 'this proves that johnson himself sanctioned mrs. piozzi's version of the story--_mouse versus flea_.' mr. croker has an odd notion of what constitutes both a proof and a sanction. [ ] lord shelburne says that 'william murray [lord mansfield] was sixteen years of age when he came out of scotland, and spoke such broad scotch that he stands entered in the university books at oxford as born as bath, the vice-chancellor mistaking _bath for perth_.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] the asterisks seem to show that beattie and robertson are meant. this is rendered more probable from the fact that the last paragraph is about scotchmen. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell's friend was very likely his brother david, who had long resided in valencia. in that case, johnson came round to boswell's opinion, for he wrote, 'he will find scotland but a sorry place after twelve years' residence in a happier climate;' _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] wilson against smith and armour. boswell. [ ] lord kames, in his _historical law tracts_. boswell. [ ] 'covin. a deceitful agreement between two or more to the hurt of another.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] lord kames (_sketches of the history of man_, iv. ) says:--'the undisciplined manners of our forefathers in scotland made a law necessary, that whoever intermeddled irregularly with the goods of a deceased person should be subjected to pay all his debts, however extensive. a due submission to legal authority has in effect abrogated that severe law, and it is now [ ] scarce ever heard of.' scott introduces lord kames in _redgauntlet_, at the end of chap. i of the _narrative_:--'"what's the matter with the auld bitch next?" said an acute metaphysical judge, though somewhat coarse in his manners, aside to his brethren.' in boswell's poem _the court of session garland_, where the scotch judges each give judgment, we read:-- 'alemore the judgment as illegal blames, "tis equity, you bitch," replies my lord kames.' chambers's _traditions of edinburgh_, ii. . mr. chambers adds (p. ) that when kames retired from the bench, 'after addressing his brethren in a solemn speech, in going out at the door of the court room, he turned about, and casting them a last look, cried, in his usual familiar tone, "fare ye a' weel, ye bitches."' [ ] at this time there were no civil juries in scotland. 'but this was made up for, to a certain extent, by the supreme court, consisting of no fewer than fifteen judges; who formed a sort of judicial jury, and were dealt with as such. the great mass of the business was carried on by writing.' cockbarn's _jeffery_, i. . see _post_, jan. , , note. [ ] in like manner, he had discovered the _life of cheynel_ to be johnson's. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] the _essay on truth_, published in may, . beattie wrote on sept. , :--'the fourth edition of my _essay_ is now in the press.' forbes's _beattie_, ed. , p. . three translations--french, dutch, and german--had, it seems, already appeared. _ib_ p. . 'mr. johnson made goldsmith a comical answer one day, when seeming to repine at the success of beattie's _essay on truth_. "here's such a stir," said he, "about a fellow that has written one book, and i have written many." "ah, doctor," says he, "there go two and forty sixpences you know to one guinea."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see boswell's _hebrides_, oct , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] on the same day he wrote to dr. taylor:--'your uneasiness at the misfortunes of your relations, i comprehend perhaps too well. it was an irresistible obtrusion of a disagreeable image, which you always wished away, but could not dismiss, an incessant persecution of a troublesome thought, neither to be pacified nor ejected. such has of late been the state of my own mind. i had formerly great command of my attention, and what i did not like could forbear to think on. but of this power, which is of the highest importance to the tranquillity of life, i have been so much exhausted, that i do not go into a company towards night, in which i foresee anything disagreeable, nor enquire after anything to which i am not indifferent, lest something, which i know to be nothing, should fasten upon my imagination, and hinder me from sleep.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . on oct. he wrote to dr. taylor:--'i am now within a few hours of being able to send the whole _dictionary_ to the press [_ante_, ii. ], and though i often went sluggishly to the work, i am not much delighted at the completion. my purpose is to come down to lichfield next week.' _ib_ p. . he stayed some weeks there and in ashbourne. _piozzi letters_, i. - . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'while of myself i yet may think, while breath my body sways.' morris's aeneids, iv. . [ ] it should seem that this dictionary work was not unpleasant to johnson; for stockdale records (_memoirs_, ii. ) that about , having told him that he had declined to edit a new edition of chambers's _dictionary of the arts and sciences_, 'johnson replied that if i would not undertake, he would. i expressed my astonishment that, in his easy circumstances, he should think of preparing a new edition of a tedious, scientific dictionary. "sir," said he, "i like that muddling work." he allowed some time to go by, during which another editor was found--dr. rees. immediately after this intelligence he called on me, and his first words were:--"it is gone, sir."' [ ] he, however, wrote, or partly wrote, an epitaph on mrs. bell, wife of his friend john bell, esq., brother of the reverend dr. bell, prebendary of westminster, which is printed in his _works_ [i. ]. it is in english prose, and has so little of his manner, that i did not believe he had any hand in it, till i was satisfied of the fact by the authority of mr. bell. boswell. 'the epitaph is to be seen in the parish church of watford.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . mme. d'arblay (_memoirs of dr. burney_, i. ) says that this year goldsmith projected a _dictionary of arts and sciences_, in which johnson was to take the department of ethics, and that dr. burney finished the article _musician_. the scheme came to nothing. [ ] we may doubt steevens's taste. garrick 'produced _hamlet_ with alterations, rescuing,' as he said, 'that noble play from all the rubbish of the fifth act' (_ante_, ii. , note .) steevens wrote to garrick:--'i expect great pleasure from the perusal of your altered _hamlet_. it is a circumstance in favour of the poet which i have long been wishing for. you had better throw what remains of the piece into a farce, to appear immediately afterwards. no foreigner who should happen to be present at the exhibition, would ever believe it was formed out of the loppings and excrescences of the tragedy itself. you may entitle it _the grave-diggers; with the pleasant humours of osric, the danish macaroni_.' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] a line of an epigram in the _life of virgil_, ascribed to donatus. [ ] given by a lady at edinburgh. boswell. [ ] there had been masquerades in scotland; but not for a very long time. boswell. 'johnson,' as mr. croker observes, 'had no doubt seen an account of the masquerade in the _gent. mag_. for january,' p. . it is stated there that 'it was the first masquerade ever seen in scotland.' boswell appeared as a dumb conjurer. [ ] mrs. thrale recorded in , after her quarrel with baretti:--'i had occasion to talk of him with tom davies, who spoke with horror of his ferocious temper; "and yet," says i, "there is great sensibility about baretti. i have seen tears often stand in his eyes." "indeed," replies davies, "i should like to have seen that sight vastly, when--even butchers weep."' hayward's _piozzi_, ii. . davies said of goldsmith:--'he least of all mankind approved baretti's conversation; he considered him as an insolent, overbearing foreigner.' davies, in the same passage, speaks of baretti as 'this unhappy italian.' davies's _garrick_, ii. . as this was published in baretti's life-time, the man could scarcely have been so ferocious as he was described. [ ] 'there were but a few days left before the comedy was to be acted, and no name had been found for it. "we are all in labour," says johnson, whose labour of kindness had been untiring throughout, "for a name to goldy's play." [see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , .] what now stands as the second title, _the mistakes of a night_, was originally the only one; but it was thought undignified for a comedy. _the old house a new inn_ was suggested in place of it, but dismissed as awkward. sir joshua offered a much better name to goldsmith, saying, "you ought to call it _the belle's stratagem_, and if you do not i will damn it." when goldsmith, in whose ear perhaps a line of dryden's lingered, hit upon _she stoops to conquer_.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. , and northcote's _reynolds_, i. . mr. forster quotes the line of dryden as 'but kneels to conquer, and but stoops to rise.' in lord chesterfield's _letters_, iii. , the line is given, 'but stoops to conquer, and but kneels to rise.' [ ] this gentleman, who now resides in america in a publick character of considerable dignity, desired that his name might not be transcribed at full length. boswell. [ ] now doctor white, and bishop of the episcopal church in pennsylvania. during his first visit to england in , as a candidate for holy orders, he was several times in company with dr. johnson, who expressed a wish to see the edition of his _rasselas_, which dr. white told him had been printed in america. dr. white, on his return, immediately sent him a copy. boswell. [ ] horace. _odes_, iii. i. . [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] malone had the following from baretti: 'baretti made a translation of _rasselas_ into french. he never, however, could satisfy himself with the translation of the first sentence, which is uncommonly lofty. mentioning this to johnson, the latter said, after thinking two or three minutes, "well, take up the pen, and if you can understand my pronunciation, i will see what i can do." he then dictated the sentence to the translator, which proved admirable, and was immediately adopted.' prior's _malone_, p. . baretti, in a ms. note on his copy of _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'johnson never wrote to me french, but when he translated for me the first paragraph of his _rasselas_.' that johnson's french was faulty, is shown by his letters in that language. _ante_, ii. , and _post_, under nov. , . [ ] it has been translated into bengalee, hungarian, polish, modern greek, and spanish, besides the languages mentioned by johnson. dr. j. macaulay's _bibliography of rasselas_. it reached its fifth edition by . _a bookseller of the last century_, p. . in the same book (p. ) it is mentioned that 'a sixteenth share in _the rambler_ was sold for £ s. d.' [ ] a motion in the house of commons for a committee to consider of the subscription to the thirty nine articles had, on feb. of this year, been rejected by to . _parl. hist_. xvii. - . a bill for the relief of protestant dissenters that passed the house of commons by to on march , was rejected in the house of lords by to on april . _ib_ p. . [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson says that 'colman [the manager] was prevailed on at last by much solicitation, nay, a kind of force, to bring it on.' mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, ii. - ) writes:--'the actors and actresses had taken their tone from the manager. gentleman smith threw up voting marlow; woodward refused tony lumpkin; mrs. abington declined miss hardcastle [in _the athenæum_, no. , it is pointed out that mrs. abington was not one of colman's company]; and, in the teeth of his own misgivings, colman could not contest with theirs. he would not suffer a new scene to be painted for the play, he refused to furnish even a new dress, and was careful to spread his forebodings as widely as he could.' the play met with the greatest success. 'there was a new play by dr. goldsmith last night, which succeeded prodigiously,' wrote horace valpole (_letters_, v. ). the laugh was turned against the doubting manager. ten days after the play had been brought out, johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'c----[colman] is so distressed with abuse about his play, that he has solicited goldsmith to _take him off the rack of the newspapers_.' _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, just before june , , for mr. steevens's account. [ ] it was anything but an apology, unless _apology_ is used in its old meaning of _defence_. [ ] nine days after _she stoops to conquer_ was brought out, a vile libel, written, it is believed, by kenrick (_ante_ i. ), was published by evans in _the london packet_. the libeller dragged in one of the miss hornecks, 'the jessamy bride' of goldsmith's verse. goldsmith, believing evans had written the libel, struck him with his cane. the blow was returned, for evans was a strong man. 'he indicted goldsmith for the assault, but consented to a compromise on his paying fifty pounds to a welsh charity. the papers abused the poet, and steadily turned aside from the real point in issue. at last he stated it himself, in an _address to the public_, in the _daily advertiser_ of march .' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. - . the libel is given in goldsmith's _misc. works_ ( ), i. . [ ] '_your_ paper,' i suppose, because the _chronicle_ was taken in at bolt court. _ante_, ii. . [ ] see forster's _goldsmith_, i. , for a possible explanation of this sarcasm. [ ] horace walpole is violent against dalrymple and the king. 'what must,' he says, 'be the designs of this reign when george iii. encourages a jacobite wretch to hunt in france for materials for blackening the heroes who withstood the enemies of protestantism and liberty.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] mr. hallam pointed out to mr. croker that johnson was speaking of dalrymple's description of the parting of lord and lady russell:--'with a deep and noble silence; with a long and fixed look, in which respect and affection unmingled with passion were expressed, lord and lady russell parted for ever--he great in this last act of his life, but she greater.' dalrymple's _memoirs_, i. . see _post_, april , , for the foppery of dalrymple; and boswell's _hebrides_, near the end, for johnson's imitation of dalrymple's style. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] horace walpole says:--'it was not chesterfield's fault if he had not wit; nothing exceeded his efforts in that point; and though they were far from producing the wit, they at least amply yielded the applause he aimed at.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, i. . [ ] a curious account of tyrawley is given in walpole's _reign of george ii_, iii. . he had been ambassador at lisbon, and he 'even affected not to know where the house of commons was.' walpole says (_letters_, i. , note) that 'pope has mentioned his and another ambassador's seraglios in one of his _imitations of horace_.' he refers to the lines in the _imitations_, i. . :-- 'go live with chartres, in each vice outdo k----l's lewd cargo, or ty----y's crew.' kinnoul and tyrawley, says walpole, are meant. [ ] according to chalmers, who himself has performed this task, dr. percy was the first of these gentlemen, and dr. john calder the second. croker. [ ] sir andrew freeport, after giving money to some importunate beggars, says:--'i ought to give to an hospital of invalids, to recover as many useful subjects as i can, but i shall bestow none of my bounties upon an almshouse of idle people; and for the same reason i should not think it a reproach to me if i had withheld my charity from those common beggars.' _the spectator_, no. . this paper is not by addison. in no. , which is by addison, sir andrew is made to found 'an almshouse for a dozen superannuated husbandmen.' i have before (ii. ) contrasted the opinions of johnson and fielding as to almsgiving. a more curious contrast is afforded by the following passage in _tom jones_, book i. chap. iii:--'i have told my reader that mr. allworthy inherited a large fortune, that he had a good heart, and no family. hence, doubtless, it will be concluded by many that he lived like an honest man, owed no one a shilling, took nothing but what was his own, kept a good house, entertained his neighbours with a hearty welcome at his table, and was charitable to the poor, i.e. to those who had rather beg than work, by giving them the offals from it; that he died immensely rich, and built an hospital.' [ ] boswell says (_hebrides_, aug. , ):--'his recitation was grand and affecting, and, as sir joshua reynolds has observed to me, had no more tone than it should have.' mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) writes:--'his manner of repeating deserves to be described, though at the same time it defeats all power of description; but whoever once heard him repeat an ode of horace would be long before they could endure to hear it repeated by another.' see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] 'some of the old legendary stories put in verse by modern writers provoked him to caricature them thus one day at streatham:-- "the tender infant, meek and mild, fell down upon the stone; the nurse took up the squealing child, but still the child squeal'd on." 'a famous ballad also beginning--_rio verde, rio verde_, when i commended the translation of it, he said he could do it better himself, as thus:-- "glassy water, glassy water, down whose current clear and strong, chiefs confused in mutual slaughter, moor and christian roll along." "but, sir," said i, "this is not ridiculous at all." "why no," replied he, "why should i always write ridiculously?"' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see _ante_, ii. , note . neither boswell nor mrs. piozzi mentions percy by name as the subject of johnson's ridicule. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) said that 'fox considered burnet's style to be perfect.' [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) quotes; 'dalrymple's observation, who says "that whenever burnet's narrations are examined, he appears to be mistaken."' lord bolingbroke (_works_, iv. ) wrote of party pamphlets and histories:--'read them with suspicion, for they deserve to be suspected; pay no regard to the epithets given, nor to the judgments passed; neglect all declamation, weigh the reasoning, and advert to fact. with such precautions, even burnet's history may be of some use.' horace walpole, noticing an attack on burnet, says (_letters_, vi. ):--'it shows his enemies are not angry at his telling falsehoods, but the truth ... i will tell you what was said of his _history_ by one whose testimony you yourself will not dispute. that confessor said, "damn him, he has told a great deal of truth, but where the devil did he learn it?" this was st. atterbury's testimony.' [ ] the cross-buns were for boswell and levet. johnson recorded (_pr. and med_. p. ):--'on this whole day i took nothing of nourishment but one cup of tea without milk; but the fast was very inconvenient. towards night i grew fretful and impatient, unable to fix my mind or govern my thoughts.' [ ] it is curious to compare with this johnson's own record:--'i found the service not burdensome nor tedious, though i could not hear the lessons. i hope in time to take pleasure in public works.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] in the original _in_. [ ] afterwards charles i. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, april , , where johnson said:-'goldsmith had no settled notions upon any subject; so he talked always at random.' [ ] the next day johnson recorded:--'i have had some nights of that quiet and continual sleep which i had wanted till i had almost forgotten it.' _pemb. coll. mss_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] we have the following account of johnson's kitchen in : 'mr. thale.--"and pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir?" dr. j.--"why, sir, i am afraid there is none; a general anarchy prevails in my kitchen, as i am told mr. levet, who says it is not now what it used to be." mr. t.--"but how do you get your dinners drest?" dr. j.--"why, desmouline has the chief management, for we have no jack." mr. t.--"no jack? why, how do they manage without?" dr. j.--"small joints, i believe, they manage with a string, and larger one done at the tavern. i have some thoughts (with a profound gravity) of buying a jack, because i think a jack is some credit to a house." mr. t.--"well, but you'll have a spit too?" dr. j.--"no sir, no; that would be superfluous; for we shall never use it; if a jack is seen, a spit will be presumed."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'by inscribing this slight performance to you, i do not mean so much to compliment you as myself. it may do me some honour to inform the publick, that i have lived many years in intimacy with you. it may serve the interests of mankind also to inform them, that the greatest wit may be found in a character, without impairing the most unaffected piety.' boswell. [ ] see an account of this learned and respectable gentleman, and of his curious work in the _middle state, journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edition. p. . [oct. .] boswell. see _post_, june , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for boswell's project works, and i. . [ ] 'when the efficiency [of men and women] is equal, but the pay unequal, the only explanation that can be given is custom.' j. s. mill's _political economy_, book ii. ch. xiv. . [ ] the day before he told boswell this he had recorded:--'my general resolution, to which i humbly implore the help of god, is to methodise my life, to resist sloth. i hope from this time to keep a journal.' _pr. and med_. p. . four times more he recorded the same resolution to keep a journal. see _ante_, i. , and _post_, apr. , . [ ] see _post_, march , , where johnson says:--'a man loves to review his own mind. that is the use of a diary or journal.' [ ] 'he who has not made the experiment, or who is not accustomed to require rigorous accuracy from himself, will scarcely believe how much a few hours take from certainty of knowledge and distinctness of imagery ... to this dilatory notation must be imputed the false relations of travellers, where there is no imaginable motive to deceive. they trusted to memory what cannot be trusted safely but to the eye, and told by guess what a few hours before they had known with certainty.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] goldsmith, in his dedication to reynolds of the _deserted village_, refers no doubt to johnson's opinion of luxury. he writes:--'i know you will object (and indeed _several of our best and wisest friends_ concur in the opinion) that the depopulation it deplores is nowhere to be seen, and the disorders it laments are only to be found in the poet's own imagination.... in regretting the depopulation of the country i inveigh against the increase of our luxuries; and here also i expect the shout of modern politicians against me. for twenty or thirty years past it has been the fashion to consider luxury as one of the greatest national advantages.' see _post_, april , . [ ] johnson, in his _parl. debates_ (_works_, x. ), makes general handasyd say:--'the whole pay of a foot soldier is sixpence a day, of which he is to pay fourpence to his landlord for his diet, or, what is very nearly the same, to carry fourpence daily to the market ... twopence a day is all that a soldier had to lay out upon cleanliness and decency, and with which he is likewise to keep his arms in order, and to supply himself with some part of his clothing. if, sir, after these deductions he can, from twopence a day, procure himself the means of enjoying a few happy moments in the year with his companions over a cup of ale, is not his economy much more to be envied than his luxury?' [ ] the humours of ballamagairy. boswell. [ ] 'ah me! when shall i marry me? lovers are plenty; but fail to relieve me. he, fond youth, that could carry me, offers to love, but means to deceive me. but i will rally and combat the ruiner: not a look, nor a smile shall my passion discover; she that gives all to the false one pursuing her, makes but a penitent and loses a lover.' boswell, in a letter published in goldsmith's _misc. works_, ii. , with the song, says:--'the tune is a pretty irish air, call _the humours of ballamagairy_, to which, he told me, he found it very difficult to adapt words; but he has succeeded very happily in these few lines. as i could sing the tune and was fond of them, he was so good as to give me them. i preserve this little relic in his own handwriting with an affectionate care.' [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_ april , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see ante, ii. , for johnson's 'half-a-guinea's worth of inferiority.' [ ] boswell (_ante_, i. ) mentions that he knew lyttelton. for his _history_, see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson has an interesting paper 'on lying' in _the adventurer_, no. , which thus begins:--'when aristotle was once asked what a man could gain by uttering falsehoods, he replied, "not to be credited when he shall tell the truth."' [ ] johnson speaks of the past, for sterne had been dead five years. gray wrote on april , :--'_tristram shandy_ is still a greater object of admiration, the man as well as the book. one is invited to dinner where he dines a fortnight beforehand.' gray's _works_, ed. , iii. . [ ] 'i was but once,' said johnson, 'in sterne's company, and then his only attempt at merriment consisted in his display of a drawing too indecently gross to have delighted even in a brothel.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] townshend was not the man to make his jokes serve twice. horace walpole said of his _champagne speech_,--'it was garrick writing and acting extempore scenes of congreve.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. . sir g. colebrooke says:--'when garrick and foote were present he took the lead, and hardly allowed them an opportunity of shewing their talents of mimicry, because he could excel them in their own art.' _ib_ p. , note. '"perhaps," said burke, "there never arose in this country, nor in any country, a man of a more pointed and finished wit."' payne's _burke_, i. . [ ] the 'eminent public character' is no doubt burke, and the friend, as mr. croker suggests, probably reynolds. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , for a like charge made by johnson against burke. boswell commonly describes burke as 'an eminent friend of ours;' but he could not do so as yet, for he first met him fifteen days later. (_post_, april .) [ ] 'party,' burke wrote in (_thoughts on the present discontents_), 'is a body of men united for promoting by their joint endeavours the national interest upon some particular principle in which they are all agreed. for my part i find it impossible to conceive that any one believes in his own politics, or thinks them to be of any weight, who refuses to adopt the means of having them reduced into practice.' payne's _burke_, i. . [ ] on may , and again on nov. , the play was commanded by the king and queen. prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] _absalom and achitophel_, part i. l. . [ ] paoli perhaps was thinking of himself. while he was still 'the successful rebel' in corsica, he had said to boswell:--'the arts and sciences are like dress and ornament. you cannot expect them from us for some time. but come back twenty or thirty years hence, and we'll shew you arts and sciences.' boswell's _corsica_, p. . [ ] 'the duke of cumberland had been forbidden the court on his marriage with mrs. horton, a year before; but on the duke of gloucester's avowal of his marriage with lady waldegrave, the king's indignation found vent in the royal marriage act: which was hotly opposed by the whigs as an edict of tyranny. goldsmith (perhaps for burke's sake) helped to make it unpopular with the people: "we'll go to france", says hastings to miss neville, "for there, even among slaves, the laws of marriage are respected." said on the first night this had directed repeated cheering to the duke of gloucester, who sat in one of the boxes.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _stenography_, by john angell, . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. [ ] james harris, father of the first earl of malmesbury, born , died . two years later boswell wrote to temple: 'i am invited to a dinner at mr. cambridge's (for the dinner, see _post_, april , ), where are to be reynolds, johnson, and hermes harris. "_do you think so?" said he. "most certainly, said i_." do you remember how i used to laugh at his style when we were in the temple? he thinks himself an ancient greek from these little peculiarities, as the imitators of shakspeare, whom the _spectator_ mentions, thought they had done wonderfully when they had produced a line similar:-- "and so, good morrow to ye, good master lieutenant."' _letters of boswell_, p. . it is not in the _spectator_, but in _martinus scriblerus_, ch. ix. (swift's _works_, , xxiii, ), that the imitators of shakspeare are ridiculed. harris got his name of hermes from his _hermes, or a philosophical inquiry concerning universal grammar_. cradock (_memoirs_, i, ) says that, 'a gentleman applied to his friend to lend him some amusing book, and he recommended harris's _hermes_. on returning it, the other asked how he had been entertained. "not much," he replied; "he thought that all these imitations of _tristram shandy_ fell far short of the original."' see _post_, april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . [ ] johnson suffers, in cowper's epitaph on him, from the same kind of praise as goldsmith gives harris:-- 'whose verse may claim, grave, masculine and strong, superior praise to the mere poet's song.' cowper's _works_, v. . [ ] see _ante_, . [ ] cave set up his coach about thirty years earlier (_ante_, i, , note). dr. franklin (_memoirs_, iii, ) wrote to mr. straham in :--'i remember your observing once to me, as we sat together in the house of commons, that no two journeymen printers within your knowledge had met with such success in the world as ourselves. you were then at the head of your profession, and soon afterwards became a member of parliament. i was an agent for a few provinces, and now act for them all.' [ ] 'hamilton made a large fortune out of smollett's _history_.' forster's _goldsmith_, i, . he was also the proprietor of the _critical review_. [ ] see _ante_, i, . [ ] see _ante_, ii, , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . horace walpole wrote of the year :--'the rage of duelling had of late much revived, especially in ireland, and many attempts were made in print and on the stage to curb so horrid and absurd a practice.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] very likely boswell. see _post_, april , , where he says:--'i slily introduced mr. garrick's fame and his assuming the airs of a great man'. [ ] in the _garrick's corres_ up to this date there is no letter from lord mansfield which answers boswell's descriptions. to lord chatham garrick had addressed some verses from mount edgecumbe. chatham, on april , , sent verses in return, and wrote:--'you have kindly settled upon me a lasting species of property i never dreamed of in that enchanting place; a far more able conveyancer than any in chancery-land. _ib_ i, . [ ] 'then i alone the conquest prize, when i insult a rival's eyes: if there's, &c.' act iii, sc. . [ ] 'but how did he return, this haughty brave, who whipt the winds, and made the sea his slave? (though neptune took unkindly to be bound and eurus never such hard usage found in his �olian prison under ground).' dryden, _juvenal_, x. . [ ] most likely mr. pepys, a master in chancery, whom johnson more than once roughly attacked at streatham. see _post_, april , , and mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'jan. , . poor mr. fitzherbert hanged himself on wednesday. he went to see the convicts executed that morning; and from thence in his boots to his son, having sent his groom out of the way. at three his son said, sir, you are to dine at mr. buller's; it is time for you to go home and dress. he went to his own stable and hanged himself with a bridle. they say his circumstances were in great disorder.' horace walpole's _letters_, v. . see _ante_, i. , and _post_, sept. , . [ ] boswell, in his _hebrides_ (aug. , ) says that, 'budgel was accused of forging a will [dr. tindal's] and sunk himself in the thames, before the trial of its authenticity came on.' pope, speaking of himself, says that he-- 'let budgel charge low grub-street on his quill, and write whate'er he pleas'd, except his will.' _prologue to the satires_, , . budgel drowned himself on may , , more than two years after the publication of this prologue. _gent. mag_. vii. . perhaps the verse is an interpolation in a later edition. see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] on the douglas cause. see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, march , . [ ] i regretted that dr. johnson never took the trouble to study a question which interested nations. he would not even read a pamphlet which i wrote upon it, entitled _the essence of the douglas cause_; which, i have reason to flatter myself, had considerable effect in favour of mr. douglas; of whose legitimate filiation i was then, and am still, firmly convinced. let me add, that no fact can be more respectably ascertained than by the judgement of the most august tribunal in the world; a judgement, in which lord mansfield and lord camden united in , and from which only five of a numerous body entered a protest. boswell. boswell, in his hebrides, records on oct. , :--'dr. johnson roused my zeal so much that i took the liberty to tell him that he knew nothing of the [douglas] cause.' lord shelburne says: 'i conceived such a prejudice upon the sight of the present lord douglas's face and figure, that i could not allow myself to vote in this cause. if ever i saw a frenchman, he is one.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . hume 'was struck,' he writes, 'with a very sensible indignation at the decision. the cause, though not in the least intricate, is so complicated that it never will be reviewed by the public, who are besides perfectly pleased with the sentence; being swayed by compassion and a few popular topics. to one who understands the cause as i do, nothing could appear more scandalous than the pleadings of the two law lords.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . in campbell's _chancellors_, v. , an account is given of a duel between stuart and thurlow that arose out of this suit. [ ] the fountains. _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] it has already been observed (_ante_, ii. ), that one of his first essays was a latin poem on a glow-worm; but whether it be any where extant, has not been ascertained. malone. [ ] 'mallet's works are such as a writer, bustling in the world, shewing himself in publick, and emerging occasionally from time to time into notice, might keep alive by his personal influence; but which, conveying little information and giving no great pleasure, must soon give way, as the succession of things produces new topicks of conversation and other modes of amusement.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] johnson made less money, because he never 'traded' on his reputation. when he had made his name, he almost ceased to write. [ ] 'may , . dr. goldsmith has written a comedy--no, it is the lowest of all farces. it is not the subject i condemn, though very vulgar, but the execution. the drift tends to no moral, no edification of any kind. the situations, however, are well imagined, and make one laugh, in spite of the grossness of the dialogue, the forced witticisms, and total improbability of the whole plan and conduct. but what disgusts me most is, that though the characters are very low, and aim at low humour, not one of them says a sentence that is natural or marks any character at all. it is set up in opposition to sentimental comedy, and is as bad as the worst of them.' horace walpole's _letters_, v. . northcote (_life of reynolds_, i. ) says that goldsmith gave him an order to see this comedy. 'the next time i saw him, he inquired of me what my opinion was of it. i told him that i would not presume to be a judge of its merits. he asked, "did it make you laugh?" i answered, "exceedingly." "then," said the doctor, "that is all i require."' [ ] garrick brought out his revised version of this play by beaumont and fletcher in - . murphy's _garrick_, p. . the compliment is in a speech by don juan, act v. sc. : 'ay, but when things are at the worst, they'll mend; example does everything, and the fair sex will certainly grow better, whenever the greatest is the best woman in the kingdom.' [ ] _formular_ is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] 'on earth, a present god, shall caesar reign.' francis. horace, _odes_, iii. . . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson refers, i believe, to temple's essay _of heroic virtue_, where he says that 'the excellency of genius' must not only 'be cultivated by education and instruction,' but also 'must be assisted by fortune to preserve it to maturity; because the noblest spirit or genius in the world, if it falls, though never so bravely, in its first enterprises, cannot deserve enough of mankind to pretend to so great a reward as the esteem of heroic virtue.' temple's _works_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] in an epitaph that burke wrote for garrick, he says: 'he raised the character of his profession to the rank of a liberal art.' windham's _diary_, p. . [ ] 'the allusion,' as mr. lockhart pointed out, 'is not to the _tale of a tub_, but to the _history of john bull_' (part ii. ch and ). jack, who hangs himself, is however the youngest of the three brothers of _the tale of a tub_, 'that have made such a clutter in the work' (_ib_. chap ii). jack was unwillingly convinced by habbakkuk's argument that to save his life he must hang himself. sir roger, he was promised, before the rope was well about his neck, would break in and cut him down. [ ] he wrote the following letter to goldsmith, who filled the chair that evening. 'it is,' mr. forster says (_life of goldsmith_, ii. ), 'the only fragment of correspondence between johnson and goldsmith that has been preserved.' 'april , . 'sir,--i beg that you will excuse my absence to the club; i am going this evening to oxford. 'i have another favour to beg. it is that i may be considered as proposing mr. boswell for a candidate of our society, and that he may be considered as regularly nominated. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' if johnson went to oxford his stay there was brief, as on april boswell found him at home. [ ] 'there are,' says johnson, speaking of dryden (_works_, vii. ), 'men whose powers operate only at leisure and in retirement, and whose intellectual vigour deserts them in conversation.' see also _ante_, i. . 'no man,' he said of goldsmith, 'was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had;' _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ), who 'knew hume personally and well,' said, 'mr. hume's writings were so superior to his conversation, that i frequently said he understood nothing till he had written upon it.' [ ] the age of great english historians had not long begun. the first volume of _the decline and fall_ was published three years later. addison had written in (_freeholder_, no. ), 'our country, which has produced writers of the first figure in every other kind of work, has been very barren in good historians.' johnson, in , repeated this observation in _the rambler_, no. . lord bolingbroke wrote in (_works_, iii. ), 'our nation has furnished as ample and as important matter, good and bad, for history, as any nation under the sun; and yet we must yield the palm in writing history most certainly to the italians and to the french, and i fear even to the germans.' [ ] gibbon, informing robertson on march , , of the completion of _the decline and fall_, said:--'the praise which has ever been the most flattering to my ear, is to find my name associated with the names of robertson and hume; and provided i can maintain my place in the triumvirate, i am indifferent at what distance i am ranked below my companions and masters.' dugald stewart's _robertson_, p. . [ ] 'sir,' said johnson, 'if robertson's style be faulty, he owes it me; that is, having too many words, and those too big ones.' _post_, sept. , . johnson was not singular among the men of his time in condemning robertson's _verbiage_. wesley (_journal_, iii. ) wrote of vol. i. of _charles the fifth_:--'here is a quarto volume of eight or ten shillings' price, containing dry, verbose dissertations on feudal government, the substance of all which might be comprised in half a sheet of paper!' johnson again uses _verbiage_ (a word not given in his _dictionary_), _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, oct. , . [ ] 'vertot, né en normandie en . historien agréable et élégant. mort en .' voltaire, _siècle de louis xiv_. [ ] even hume had no higher notion of what was required in a writer of ancient history. he wrote to robertson, who was, it seems, meditating a history of greece:--'what can you do in most places with these (the ancient) authors but transcribe and translate them? no letters or state papers from which you could correct their errors, or authenticate their narration, or supply their defects.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . southey, asserting that robertson had never read the laws of alonso the wise, says, that 'it is one of the thousand and one omissions for which he ought to be called rogue as long as his volumes last.' southey's _life_, ii. . [ ] ovid. de art. amand. i. iii. v. [ ]. boswell. 'it may be that our name too will mingle with those.' [ ] the _gent. mag_. for jan. (p. ) records, that 'a person was observed discharging musket-balls from a steel crossbow at the two remaining heads upon temple bar.' they were the heads of scotch rebels executed in . samuel rogers, who died at the end of , said, 'i well remember one of the heads of the rebels upon a pole at temple bar.' rogers's _table-talk_, p. . [ ] in allusion to dr. johnson's supposed political principles, and perhaps his own. boswell. [ ] 'dr. johnson one day took bishop percy's little daughter upon his knee, and asked her what she thought of _pilgrim's progress_. the child answered that she had not read it. "no!" replied the doctor; "then i would not give one farthing for you:" and he set her down and took no further notice of her.' croker's _boswell_, p. . mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says, that johnson once asked, 'was there ever yet anything written by mere man that was wished longer by its readers, excepting _don quixote_, _robinson crusoe_, and the _pilgrim's progress_?' [ ] it was johnson himself who was thus honoured. _post_, under dec. , . [ ] here is another instance of his high admiration of milton as a poet, notwithstanding his just abhorrence of that sour republican's political principles. his candour and discrimination are equally conspicuous. let us hear no more of his 'injustice to milton.' boswell. [ ] there was an exception to this. in his criticism of _paradise lost_ (_works_, vii. ), he says:--'the confusion of spirit and matter which pervades the whole narration of the war of heaven fills it with incongruity; and the book in which it is related is, i believe, the favourite of children, and gradually neglected as knowledge is increased.' [ ] in the _academy_, xxii. , , , mr. c. e. doble shews strong grounds for the belief that the author was richard allestree, d.d., regius professor of divinity, oxford, and provost of eton. cowper spoke of it as 'that repository of self-righteousness and pharisaical lumber;' with which opinion southey wholly disagreed. southey's _cowper_, i. . [ ] johnson said to boswell:--'sir, they knew that if they refused you they'd probably never have got in another. i'd have kept them all out. beauclerk was very earnest for you.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] garrick and jones had been elected this same spring. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] mr. langton, in his _collection_ (_post_, ), mentions an ode brought by goldsmith to the club, which had been recited for money. [ ] dr. johnson's memory here was not perfectly accurate: _eugenio_ does not conclude thus. there are eight more lines after the last of those quoted by him; and the passage which he meant to recite is as follows:-- 'say now ye fluttering, poor assuming elves, stark full of pride, of folly, of--yourselves; say where's the wretch of all your impious crew who dares confront his character to view? behold eugenio, view him o'er and o'er, then sink into yourselves, and be no more.' mr. reed informs me that the author of _eugenio_, a wine merchant at wrexham in denbighshire, soon after its publication, viz. th may, , cut his own throat; and that it appears by swift's _works_ that the poem had been shewn to him, and received some of his corrections. johnson had read _eugenio_ on his first coming to town, for we see it mentioned in one of his letters to mr. cave, which has been inserted in this work; _ante_, p. . boswell. see swift's _works_, ed. , xix. , for his letter to this wine merchant, thomas beach by name. [ ] these lines are in the _annus mirabilis_ (stanza ) in a digression in praise of the royal society; described by johnson (_works_, vii. ) as 'an example seldom equalled of seasonable excursion and artful return.' _ib_ p. , he says: 'dryden delighted to tread upon the brink of meaning, where light and darkness begin to mingle.... this inclination sometimes produced nonsense, which he knew; and sometimes it issued in absurdities, of which perhaps he was not conscious.' he then quotes these lines, and continues: 'they have no meaning; but may we not say, in imitation of cowley on another book-- "'tis so like _sense_, 'twill serve the turn as well."' cowley's line is from his _pindarique ode to mr. hobs_:-- ''tis so like _truth_, 'twill serve _our_ turn as well.' [ ] in his _dictionary_, he defines _punster as a low wit, who endeavours at reputation by double meaning_. see _post_, april , . [ ] i formerly thought that i had perhaps mistaken the word, and imagined it to be _corps_, from its similarity of sound to the real one. for an accurate and shrewd unknown gentleman, to whom i am indebted for some remarks on my work, observes on this passage--'q. if not on the word _fort_? a vociferous french preacher said of bourdaloue, "il preche _fort bien, et_ moi _bien fort_."'--menagiana. see also anecdotes litteraires, article bourdaloue. but my ingenious and obliging correspondent, mr. abercrombie of philadelphia, has pointed out to me the following passage in _menagiana_; which renders the preceding conjecture unnecessary, and confirms my original statement: 'madme de bourdonne, chanoinesse de remiremont, venoit d'entendre un discours plein de feu et d'esprit, mais fort peu solide, et tresirregulier. une de ses amies, qui y prenoit interet pour l'orateur, lui dit en sortant, "eh bien, madme que vous semble-t-il de ce que vous venez d'entendre?--qu'il ya d'esprit?"--"il y a tant, repondit madme de bourdonne, que je n'y ai pas vu de _corps_"'--menagiana, tome ii. p. . amsterd. . boswell. _menagiana, ou les bans mots et remarques critiques, historiqites, morales et derudition de m. menage, recueillies par ses amis_, published in . gilles menage was born , died . [ ] that johnson only relished the conversation, and did not join in it, is more unlikely. in his _charge_ to boswell, he very likely pointed out that what was said within was not to be reported without. boswell gives only brief reports of the talk at the club, and these not openly. see _post_, april , , note. [ ] see _post_, the passage before feb. , . [ ] by the rev. henry wharton, published in . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , for what johnson said of the _inward light_. [ ] lady diana beauclerk. in beauclerk married the eldest daughter of the second duke of marlborough, two days after her divorce from her first husband, viscount bolingbroke, the nephew of the famous lord bolingbroke. she was living when her story, so slightly veiled as it is, was thus published by boswell. the marriage was not a happy one. two years after beauclerk's death, mr. burke, looking at his widow's house, said in miss burney's presence:--'i am extremely glad to see her at last so well housed; poor woman! the bowl has long rolled in misery; i rejoice that it has now found its balance. i never myself so much enjoyed the sight of happiness in another, as in that woman when i first saw her after the death of her husband.' he then drew beauclerk's character 'in strong and marked expressions, describing the misery he gave his wife, his singular ill-treatment of her, and the necessary relief the death of such a man must give.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] old mr. langton. croker. see _post_, april , . [ ] see _post_, sept. , . [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] the writer of hymns. [ ] malone says that 'hawkesworth was introduced by garrick to lord sandwich, who, thinking to put a few hundred pounds into his pocket, appointed him to revise and publish _cook's voyages_. he scarcely did anything to the mss., yet sold it to cadell and strahan for £ .' prior's _malone_, p. . thurlow, in his speech on copy-right on march , , said 'that hawkesworth's book, which was a mere composition of trash, sold for three guineas by the booksellers' monopolizing.' _parl. hist_. xvii. . see _ante_, i. , note , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] gilbert white held 'that, though most of the swallow kind may migrate, yet that some do stay behind, and bide with us during the winter.' white's _selborne_, letter xii. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] no. . 'the sparrow that was hatched last spring makes her first nest the ensuing season of the same materials, and with the same art as in any following year; and the hen conducts and shelters her first brood of chickens with all the prudence that she ever attains.' [ ] see _post_, april , , april , , and april , . [ ] rousseau went further than johnson in this. about eleven years earlier he had, in his _contract social_, iv. , laid down certain 'simple dogmas,' such as the belief in a god and a future state, and said:--'sans pouvoir obliger personne à les croire, il [le souverain] peut bannir de l'etat quiconque ne les croit pas: ... que si quelquiun, après avoir reconne publiquement ces mêmes dogmes, se conduit comme ne les croyant pas, qu'il soit puni de mort; il a commis le plus grand des crimes, il a menti devant les lois.' [ ] see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] boswell calls elwal johnson's countryman, because they both came from the same county. see _ante_, ii. [ ] baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'johnson would have made an excellent spanish inquisitor. to his shame be it said, he always was tooth and nail against toleration.' [ ] dr. mayo's calm temper and steady perseverance, rendered him an admirable subject for the exercise of dr. johnson's powerful abilities. he never flinched; but, after reiterated blows, remained seemingly unmoved as at the first. the scintillations of johnson's genius flashed every time he was struck, without his receiving any injury. hence he obtained the epithet of the literary anvil. boswell. see _post_, april , , for an account of another dinner at mr. dilly's, where johnson and mayo met. [ ] the young pretender, charles edward. [ ] mr. croker, quoting johnson's letter of may , (_piozzi letters_, i. ), where he says, 'i dined in a large company at a dissenting bookseller's yesterday, and disputed against toleration with one doctor meyer,' continues:--'this must have been the dinner noted in the text; but i cannot reconcile the date, and the mention of the death of the queen of denmark, which happened on may , , ascertains that the date of the _letter_ is correct. boswell ... must, i think, have misdated and misplaced his note of the conversation.' that the dinner did not take place in may, , is, however, quite clear. by that date goldsmith had been dead more than a year, and goldsmith bore a large part in the talk at the dilly's table. on the other hand, there can be no question about the correctness of the date of the letter. wesley, in his _journal_ for (ii. ), mentions 'mr. meier, chaplain to one of the hanoverian regiments.' perhaps he is the man whom johnson met in . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'it is very possible he had to call at covent-garden on his way, and that for this, and not for boswell's reason, he had taken his hat early. the actor who so assisted him in young marlow was taking his benefit this seventh of may; and for an additional attraction goldsmith had written him an epilogue.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] johnson was not given to interrupting a speaker. hawkins (_life_, p. ), describing his conversation, says:--'for the pleasure he communicated to his hearers he expected not the tribute of silence; on the contrary, he encouraged others, particularly young men, to speak, and paid a due attention to what they said.' see _post_, under april , , note. [ ] that this was langton can be seen from boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , and from johnson's letters of july , , july , , and jan. , . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'in england,' wrote burke, 'the roman catholics are a sect; in ireland they are a nation.' burke's _corres_. iv. . [ ] 'the celebrated number of _ten_ persecutions has been determined by the ecclesiastical writers of the fifth century, who possessed a more distinct view of the prosperous or adverse fortunes of the church, from the age of nero to that of diocletian. the ingenious parallels of the _ten_ plagues of egypt, and of the _ten_ horns of the apocalypse, first suggested this calculation to their minds.' gibbon's _decline and fall_, ch. xvi, ed. , ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] reynolds said:--'johnson had one virtue which i hold one of the most difficult to practise. after the heat of contest was over, if he had been informed that his antagonist resented his rudeness, he was the first to seek after a reconciliation.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . he wrote to dr. taylor in :--'when i am musing alone, i feel a pang for every moment that any human being has by my peevishness or obstinacy spent in uneasiness.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . more than twenty years later he said in miss burney's hearing:--'i am always sorry when i make bitter speeches, and i never do it but when i am insufferably vexed.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . 'when the fray was over,' writes murphy (_life_, p. ), 'he generally softened into repentance, and, by conciliating measures, took care that no animosity should be left rankling in the breast of the antagonist.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson had offended langton as well as goldsmith this day, yet of goldsmith only did he ask pardon. perhaps this fact increased langton's resentment, which lasted certainly more than a year. see _post_, july , , and jan. , . [ ] 'addison, speaking of his own deficiency in conversation, used to say of himself, that with respect to intellectual wealth he could draw bills for a thousand pounds, though he had not a guinea in his pocket.' johnson's _works_, vii. . somewhat the same thought may be found in _the tatler_, no. , where it is said that 'a man endowed with great perfections without good-breeding, is like one who has his pockets full of gold, but always wants change for his ordinary occasions.' i have traced it still earlier, for burnet in his _history of his own times_, i. , says, that 'bishop wilkins used to say lloyd had the most learning in ready cash of any he ever knew.' later authors have used the same image. lord chesterfield (_letters_, ii. ) in wrote of lord bolingbroke:--'he has an infinite fund of various and almost universal knowledge, which, from the clearest and quickest conception and happiest memory that ever man was blessed with, he always carries about him. it is his pocket-money, and he never has occasion to draw upon a book for any sum.' southey wrote in (_life and corres_. iv. ):--'i wish to avoid a conference which will only sink me in lord liverpool's judgment; what there may be in me is not payable at sight; give me leisure and i feel my strength.' rousseau was in want of readiness like addison:--'je fais d'excellens impromptus à loisir; mais sur le temps je n'ai jamais rien fait ni dit qui vaille. je ferais une fort jolie conversation par la poste, comme on dit que les espagnols jouent aux échecs. quand je lus le trait d'un duc de savoye qui se retourna, faisant route, pour crier; _à votre gorge, marchand de paris_, je dis, me voilà.' _les confessions_, livre iii. see also _post_, may , . [ ] 'among the many inconsistencies which folly produces, or infirmity suffers in the human mind, there has often been observed a manifest and striking contrariety between the life of an author and his writings; and milton, in a letter to a learned stranger, by whom he had been visited, with great reason congratulates himself upon the consciousness of being found equal to his own character, and having preserved in a private and familiar interview that reputation which his works had procured him.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] prior (_life of goldsmith_, ii. ) says that it was not a german who interrupted goldsmith but a swiss, mr. moser, the keeper of the royal academy (_post_, june , ). he adds that at a royal academy dinner moser interrupted another person in the same way, when johnson seemed preparing to speak, whereupon goldsmith said, 'are you sure that _you_ can comprehend what he says?' [ ] edmund burke he called mund; dodsley, doddy; derrick, derry; cumberland, cumbey; monboddo, monny; stockdale, stockey. mrs. piozzi represents him in his youth as calling edmund hector 'dear mund.' _ante_, i. , note. sheridan's father had been known as sherry among swift and his friends. swift's _works_, ed. , x. . [ ] mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, ii. ) on this remarks:--'it was a courteous way of saying, "i wish _you_ [davies] wouldn't call me goldy, whatever mr. johnson does."' that he is wrong in this is shown by boswell, in his letter to johnson of feb. , , where he says:--'you remember poor goldsmith, when he grew important, and wished to appear _doctor major_, could not bear your calling him _goldy_.' see also boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] the reverend thomas bagshaw, m.a., who died on november , , in the seventy-seventh year of his age, chaplain of bromley college, in kent, and rector of southfleet. he had resigned the cure of bromley parish some time before his death. for this, and another letter from dr. johnson in , to the same truely respectable man, i am indebted to dr. john loveday, of the commons [_ante_, i. , note ], a son of the late learned and pious john loveday, esq., of caversham in berkshire, who obligingly transcribed them for me from the originals in his possession. this worthy gentleman, having retired from business, now lives in warwickshire. the world has been lately obliged to him as the editor of the late rev. dr. townson's excellent work, modestly entitled, _a discourse on the evangelical history, from the interment to the ascension of our lord and saviour jesus christ_; to which is prefixed, a truly interesting and pleasing account of the authour, by the reverend mr. ralph churton. boswell. [ ] sunday was may . [ ] as langton was found to deeply resent johnson's hasty expression at the dinner on the th, we must assume that he had invited johnson to dine with him before the offence had been given. [ ] in the _dictionary_ johnson, as the second definition of _metaphysical_, says: 'in shakespeare it means _supernatural_ or _preternatural_.' 'creation' being beyond the nature of man, the right derived from it is preternatural or metaphysical. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] hume, on feb. of this year, mentioned to adam smith as a late publication lord monboddo's _origin and progress of language_:--'it contains all the absurdity and malignity which i suspected; but is writ with more ingenuity and in a better style than i looked for.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] monday was may . [ ] see _ante_, i. . percy wrote of goldsmith's envy:--'whatever appeared of this kind was a mere momentary sensation, which he knew not how, like other men, to conceal.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] he might have applied to himself his own version of ovid's lines, _genus et proavos_, &c., the motto to _the rambler_, no. :-- 'nought from my birth or ancestors i claim; all is my own, my honor and my shame.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] that langton is meant is shewn by johnson's letter of july (_post_, p. ). the man who is there described as leaving the town in deep dudgeon was certainly langton. 'where is now my legacy?' writes johnson. he is referring, i believe, to the last part of his playful and boisterous speech, where he says:--'i hope he has left me a legacy.' mr. croker, who is great at suspicions, ridiculously takes the mention of a legacy seriously, and suspects 'some personal disappointment at the bottom of this strange obstreperous and sour merriment.' he might as well accuse falstaff of sourness in his mirth. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , where boswell makes the same remark. [ ] 'et quorum pars magna fui.' 'yea, and was no small part thereof.' morris, �neids, ii. . [ ] johnson, as drawn by boswell, is too 'awful, melancholy, and venerable.' such 'admirable fooling' as he describes here is but rarely shown in his pages. yet he must often have seen equally 'ludicrous exhibitions.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) says, that 'in the talent of humour there hardly ever was johnson's equal, except perhaps among the old comedians.' murphy writes (life, p. ):--'johnson was surprised to be told, but it is certainly true, that with great powers of mind, wit and humour were his shining talents.' mrs. piozzi confirms this. 'mr. murphy,' she writes (_anec_. p. ), 'always said he was incomparable at buffoonery.' she adds (p. ):--'he would laugh at a stroke of genuine humour, or sudden sally of odd absurdity, as heartily and freely as i ever yet saw any man; and though the jest was often such as few felt besides himself, yet his laugh was irresistible, and was observed immediately to produce that of the company, not merely from the notion that it was proper to laugh when he did, but purely out of want of power to forbear it.' miss burney records:--'dr. johnson has more fun, and comical humour, and love of nonsense about him than almost anybody i ever saw.' mine. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see boswell's own account, _post_, end of vol. iv. [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_ for johnson's study of low dutch. [ ] 'those that laugh at the portentous glare of a comet, and hear a crow with equal tranquillity from the right or left, will yet talk of times and situations proper for intellectual performances,' &c. _the idler_, no. xi. see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'he did not see at all with one of his eyes' (_ante_, i. ). [ ] not six months before his death, he wished me to teach him the scale of musick:--'dr. burney, teach me at least the alphabet of your language.' burney. [ ] accurata burdonum [i.e. scaligerorum] fabulæ confutatio (auctore i. r). lugduni batavorum. apud ludovicum elzevirium mdcxvii. brit. mus. catalogue. [ ] mrs. piozzi's _anecdotes of johnson_, p. . boswell. mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) describes her mother and johnson as 'excellent, far beyond the excellence of any other man and woman i ever yet saw. as her conduct extorted his truest esteem, her cruel illness excited all his tenderness. he acknowledged himself improved by her piety, and over her bed with the affection of a parent, and the reverence of a son.' baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says that 'johnson could not much near mrs. salusbury, nor mrs. salusbury him, when they first knew each other. but her cancer moved his compassion, and made them friends.' johnson, recording her death, says:--'yesterday, as i touched her hand and kissed it, she pressed my hand between her two hands, which she probably intended as the parting caress ... this morning being called about nine to feel her pulse, i said at parting, "god bless you; for jesus christ's sake." she smiled as pleased.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] johnson wrote to dr. taylor july , :--'sir robert chambers slipped this session through the fingers of revocation, but i am in doubt of his continuance. shelburne seems to be his enemy. mrs. thrale says they will do him no harm. she perhaps thinks there is no harm without hanging. the mere act of recall strips him of eight thousand a year.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . [ ] beattie was professor of moral philosophy. for some years his 'english friends had tried to procure for him a permanent provision beyond the very moderate emoluments arising from his office.' just before johnson wrote, beattie had been privately informed that he was to have a pension of £ a year. forbes's _beattie_, ed. , pp. , . when johnson heard of this 'he clapped his hands, and cried, "o brave we!"' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] langton. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] langton--his native village. [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] that he set out on this day is shewn by his letter to mrs. thrale. _piozzi letters_, ii. . the following anecdote in the _memoir of goldsmith_, prefixed to his _misc. works_ (i. ), is therefore inaccurate:--'i was dining at sir joshua reynolds's, august , , where were the archbishop of tuam and mr. (now lord) eliot, when the latter making use of some sarcastical reflections on goldsmith, johnson broke out warmly in his defence, and in the course of a spirited eulogium said, "is there a man, sir, now who can pen an essay with such ease and elegance as goldsmith?"' johnson did in august, , dine at reynolds's, and meet there the archbishop of tuam, 'a man coarse of voice and inelegant of language' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] it was on saturday the th of august that he arrived. [ ] from aug. to nov. is one hundred days. [ ] it is strange that not one of the four conferred on him an honorary degree. this same year beattie had been thus honoured at oxford. gray, who visited aberdeen eight years before johnson, was offered the degree of doctor of laws, 'which, having omitted to take it at cambridge, he thought it decent to refuse.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] he was long remembered amongst the lower order of hebrideans by the title of _sassenach more_, the _big englishman_. walter scott. [ ] the first edition was published in september, . in the following august, in his preface to the third edition, boswell speaks of the first two editions 'as large impressions.' [ ] the authour was not a small gainer by this extraordinary journey; for dr. johnson thus writes to mrs. thrale, nov. , :--'boswell will praise my resolution and perseverance, and i shall in return celebrate his good humour and perpetual cheerfulness. he has better faculties than i had imagined; more justness of discernment, and more fecundity of images. it is very convenient to travel with him; for there is no house where he is not received with kindness and respect.' let. , to mrs. thrale. [_piozzi letters_, i. .] malone. [ ] 'the celebrated flora macdonald. see boswell's _tour_' courtenay. [ ] lord eldon (at that time mr. john scott) has the following reminiscences of this visit:--'i had a walk in new inn hall garden with dr. johnson and sir robert chambers [principal of the hall]. sir robert was gathering snails, and throwing them over the wall into his neighbours garden. the doctor repreached him very roughly, and stated to him that this was unmannerly and unneighbourly. "sir," said sir robert, "my neighbour is a dissenter." "oh!" said the doctor, "if so, chambers, toss away, toss away, as hard as you can." he was very absent. i have seen him standing for a very long time, without moving, with a foot on each side the kennel which was then in the middle of the high street, with his eyes fixed on the water running in it. in the common-room of university college he was dilating upon some subject, and the then head of lincoln college, dr. mortimer, occasionally interrupted him, saying, "i deny that." this was often repeated, and observed upon by johnson, in terms expressive of increasing displeasure and anger. at length upon the doctor's repeating the words, "i deny that," "sir, sir," said johnson, "you must have forgot that an author has said: _plus negabit tinus asinus in una hora quam centum philosophi probaverint in centum annis_."' [dr. fisher, who related this story to mr. croker, described dr. mortimer as 'a mr. mortimer, a shallow under-bred man, who had no sense of johnson's superiority. he flatly contradicted some assertion which johnson had pronounced to be as clear as that two and two make four.' croker's _boswell_, p. .] 'mrs. john scott used to relate that she had herself helped dr. johnson one evening to fifteen cups of tea.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] in this he shewed a very acute penetration. my wife paid him the most assiduous and respectful attention, while he was our guest; so that i wonder how he discovered her wishing for his departure. the truth is, that his irregular hours and uncouth habits, such as turning the candles with their heads downwards, when they did not burn bright enough, and letting the wax drop upon the carpet, could not but be disagreeable to a lady. besides, she had not that high admiration of him which was felt by most of those who knew him; and what was very natural to a female mind, she thought he had too much influence over her husband. she once in a little warmth, made, with more point than justice, this remark upon that subject: 'i have seen many a bear led by a man; but i never before saw a man led by a bear.' boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] sir alexander gordon, one of the professors at aberdeen. boswell. [ ] this was a box containing a number of curious things which he had picked up in scotland, particularly some horn spoons. boswell. [ ] the rev. dr. alexander webster, one of the ministers of edinburgh, a man of distinguished abilities, who had promised him information concerning the highlands and islands of scotland. boswell. [ ] the macdonalds always laid claim to be placed on the right of the whole clans, and those of that tribe assign the breach of this order at culloden as one cause of the loss of the day. the macdonalds, placed on the left wing, refused to charge, and positively left the field unassailed and unbroken. lord george murray in vain endeavoured to urge them on by saying, that their behaviour would make the left the right, and that he himself would take the name of macdonald. walter scott. [ ] the whole of the first volume is johnson's and three-quarters of the second. a second edition was published the following year, with a third volume added, which also contained pieces by johnson, but no apology from davies. [ ] 'when davies printed the _fugitive pieces_ without his knowledge or consent; "how," said i, "would pope have raved had he been served so?" "we should never," replied he, "have heard the last on't, to be sure; but then pope was a narrow man: i will however," added he, "storm and bluster _myself_ a little this time;"--so went to london in all the wrath he could muster up. at his return i asked how the affair ended: '"why," said he, "i was a fierce fellow, and pretended to be very angry, and thomas was a good-natured fellow, and pretended to be very sorry; so _there_ the matter ended: i believe the dog loves me dearly. mr. thrale" (turning to my husband), "what shall you and i do that is good for tom davies? we will do something for him to be sure."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] _prayers and meditations_, boswell. [ ] the ancient burgh of prestick, in ayrshire. boswell. [ ] perhaps johnson imperfectly remembered, '_novae rediere in pristina vires_.' _aeneid_, xii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . the decision was given on feb. against the perpetual right. 'by the above decision near , £. worth of what was honestly purchased at public sale, and which was yesterday thought property, is now reduced to nothing.... the english booksellers have now no other security in future for any literary purchase they may make but the statute of the th of queen anne, which secures to the authors assigns an exclusive property for years, to revert again to the author, and vest in him for years more.' _ann. reg_. , i. . [ ] murphy was a barrister as well as author. [ ] mr. croker quotes a note by malone to show that in the catalogue of steevens's library this book is described as a quarto, _corio turcico foliis deauratis_. [ ] a manuscript account drawn by dr. webster of all the parishes in scotland, ascertaining their length, breadth, number of inhabitants, and distinguishing protestants and roman catholicks. this book had been transmitted to government, and dr. johnson saw a copy of it in dr. webster's possession. boswell. [ ] beauclerk, three weeks earlier, had written to lord charlemont:--'our club has dwindled away to nothing. nobody attends but mr. chambers, and he is going to the east indies. sir joshua and goldsmith have got into such a round of pleasures that they have no time.' charlemont's _life_, i. . johnson, no doubt, had been kept away by illness (_ante_, p. ). [ ] mr. fox, as sir james mackintosh informed me, was brought in by burke. croker. [ ] sir c. bunbury was the brother of mr. h. w. bunbury, the caricaturist, who married goldsmith's friend, the elder miss horneck--'little comedy' as she was called. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) tells how dr. fordyce, who sometimes drank a good deal, was summoned to a lady patient when he was conscious that he had had too much wine. 'feeling her pulse, and finding himself unable to count its beats, he muttered, "drunk by g--." next morning a letter from her was put into his hand. "she too well knew," she wrote, "that he had discovered the unfortunate condition in which she had been, and she entreated him to keep the matter secret in consideration of the enclosed (a hundred-pound bank-note)."' [ ] steevens wrote to garrick on march :--'mr. c. fox pays you but a bad compliment; as he appears, like the late mr. secretary morris, to enter the society at a time when he has _nothing else to do_. if the _bon ton_ should prove a contagious disorder among us, it will be curious to trace its progress. i have already seen it breaking out in dr. g----[goldsmith] under the form of many a waistcoat, but i believe dr. g---- will be the last man in whom the symptoms of it will be detected.' _garrick corres_. i. . in less than a month poor goldsmith was dead. fox, just before his election to the club, had received through one of the doorkeepers of the house of commons the following note:--'sir,--his majesty has thought proper to order a new commission of the treasury to be made out, in which i do not perceive your name. north.' [ ] see boswell's answer, _post_, may . [ ] see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] iona. [ ] 'i was induced,' he says, 'to undertake the journey by finding in mr. boswell a companion, whose acuteness would help my inquiry, and whose gaiety of conversation and civility of manners are sufficient to counteract the inconveniences of travel in countries less hospitable than we have passed.' quoted by boswell in his _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] see _post_, nov. , . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on may , :--'i think dr. johnson never answered but three of my letters, though i have had numerous returns from him.' _letters of boswell_. see _post_, sept. , . [ ] dr. goldsmith died april , this year. boswell. boswell wrote to garrick on april , :--'dr. goldsmith's death would affect all the club much. i have not been so much affected with any event that has happened of a long time. i wish you would give me, who am at a distance, some particulars with regard to his last appearance.' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] these books dr. johnson presented to the bodleian library, boswell. [ ] on the cover enclosing them, dr. johnson wrote, 'if my delay has given any reason for supposing that i have not a very deep sense of the honour done me by asking my judgement, i am very sorry.' boswell. [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'sir joshua was much affected by the death of goldsmith, to whom he had been a very sincere friend. he did not touch the pencil for that day, a circumstance most extraordinary for him who passed _no day without a line_. northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] he owed his tailor £ , though he had paid him £ in . in this payment was included £ for his nephew's clothes. we find such entries in his own bills as--'to tyrian bloom satin grain and, garter blue silk beeches £ s. d. to queen's-blue dress suit £ s. d. to your blue velvet suit £ s. d.' (see _ante_, ii. .) filby's son said to mr. prior:--'my father attributed no blame to goldsmith; he had been a good customer, and had he lived would have paid every farthing.' prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] 'soon after goldsmith's death certain persons dining with sir joshua commented rather freely on some part of his works, which, in their opinion, neither discovered talent nor originality. to this dr. johnson listened in his usual growling manner; when, at length, his patience being exhausted, he rose with great dignity, looked them full in the face, and exclaimed, "if nobody was suffered to abuse poor goldy, but those who could write as well, he would have few censors."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . to goldsmith might be applied the words that johnson wrote of savage (_works_, viii. ):--'vanity may surely be readily pardoned in him to whom life afforded no other comforts than barren praises, and the consciousness of deserving them. those are no proper judges of his conduct who have slumbered away their time on the down of plenty; nor will any wise man presume to say, "had i been in savage's condition, i should have lived or written better than savage."' [ ] mrs. thrale's mother died the summer before (_ante_, p. ). most of her children died early. by she had lost seven out of eleven. _post_, may , . [ ] johnson had not seen langton since early in the summer of . he was then suffering from a fever and an inflammation in the eye, for which he was twice copiously bled. (_pr. and med_. .) the following winter he was distressed by a cough. (_ib_ p. .) neither of these illnesses was severe enough to be called dreadful. in the spring of he was very ill. (_ib_ p. .) on sept. , , he records:--'for the last year i have been slowly recovering from the violence of my last illness.' (_ib_ p. .) on april , , in reviewing the last year, he writes:--'an unpleasing incident is almost certain to hinder my rest; this is the remainder of my last illness.' (_ib_ p. iii.) in the winter of - , he suffered from a cough. (_ib_ p. .) i think that he must mean the illness of , though it is to be noticed that he wrote to boswell on july , :--'except this eye [the inflamed eye] i am very well.' (_ante_, p. .) [ ] 'lord have mercy upon us.' [ ] see johnson's _works_, i. , for his latin version. d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , vi. ) says 'that oldys [_ante_, i. ] always asserted that he was the author of this song, and as he was a rigid lover of truth i doubt not that he wrote it. i have traced it through a dozen of collections since the year , the first in which i find it.' [ ] mr. seward (_anec_, ii. ) gives the following version of these lines: 'whoe'er thou art with reverence tread where goldsmith's letter'd dust is laid. if nature and the historic page, if the sweet muse thy care engage. lament him dead whose powerful mind their various energies combined.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] at lleweney, the house of mrs. thrale's cousin, mr. cotton, dr. johnson stayed nearly three weeks. johnson's _journey into north wales_, july , . mr. fitzmaurice, lord shelburne's brother, had a house there in ; for johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on may of that year:--'he has almost made me promise to pass part of the summer at llewenny.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] lord hailes was sir david dalrymple. see _ante_, i. . he is not to be confounded with sir john dalrymple, mentioned _ante_, ii. . [ ] e'en in a bishop i can spy desert; seeker is decent, rundel has a heart.' pope's _epilogue to the satires_, ii. . [ ] in the first two editions _forenoon_. boswell, in three other passages, made the same change in the third edition. _forenoon_ perhaps he considered a scotticism. the correction above being made in one of his letters, renders it likely that he corrected them before publication. [ ] horace, _ars poet_. l. . [ ] 'do not you long to hear the roarings of the old lion over the bleak mountains of the north?' wrote steevens to garrick. _garrick corres_, ii. . [ ] 'aug. . we came to penmanmaur by daylight, and found a way, lately made, very easy and very safe. it was cut smooth and enclosed between parallel walls; the outer of which secures the passenger from the precipice, which is deep and dreadful.... the sea beats at the bottom of the way. at evening the moon shone eminently bright: and our thoughts of danger being now past, the rest of our journey was very pleasant. at an hour somewhat late we came to bangor, where we found a very mean inn, and had some difficulty to obtain lodging. i lay in a room where the other bed had two men.' johnson's _journey into north wales_. [ ] he did not go to the top of snowdon. he says:--'on the side of snowdon are the remains of a large fort, to which we climbed with great labour. i was breathless and harassed,' _ib_ aug. . [ ] i had written to him, to request his interposition in behalf of a convict, who i thought was very unjustly condemned. boswell. [ ] he had kept a journal which was edited by mr. duppa in . it will be found _post_, in vol. v. [ ] 'when the general election broke up the delightful society in which we had spent some time at beconsfield, dr. johnson shook the hospitable master of the house [burke] kindly by the hand, and said, "farewell my dear sir, and remember that i wish you all the success which ought to be wished you, which can possibly be wished you indeed--_by an honest man_."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . the dissolution was on sept. . johnson, with the thrales, as his _journal_ shows, had arrived at beconsfield on the th. see _ante_, ii. , for johnson's opinion of burke's honesty. [ ] mr. perkins was for a number of years the worthy superintendant of mr. thrale's great brewery, and after his death became one of the proprietors of it; and now resides in mr. thrale's house in southwark, which was the scene of so many literary meetings, and in which he continues the liberal hospitality for which it was eminent. dr. johnson esteemed him much. he hung up in the counting-house a fine proof of the admirable mizzotinto of dr. johnson, by doughty; and when mrs. thrale asked him somewhat flippantly, 'why do you put him up in the counting-house?' he answered, 'because, madam, i wish to have one wise man there.' 'sir,' (said johnson,) 'i thank you. it is a very handsome compliment, and i believe you speak sincerely.' boswell. [ ] in the news-papers. boswell. [ ] 'oct. , . in southwark there has been outrageous rioting; but i neither know the candidates, their connections, nor success.' horace walpole's _letters_, vi. . of one southwark election mrs. piozzi writes (_anec_. p. ):--'a borough election once showed me mr. johnson's toleration of boisterous mirth. a rough fellow, a hatter by trade, seeing his beaver in a state of decay seized it suddenly with one hand, and clapping him on the back with the other. "ah, master johnson," says he, "this is no time to be thinking about _hats_." "no, no, sir," replies our doctor in a cheerful tone, "hats are of no use now, as you say, except to throw up in the air and huzza with," accompanying his words with the true election halloo.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . johnson thus mentions him (_works_, ix. ):--'here we had the last embrace of this amiable man, who, while these pages were preparing to attest his virtues, perished in the passage between ulva and inch kenneth.' [ ] alluding to a passage in a letter of mine, where speaking of his _journey to the hebrides_, i say, 'but has not _the patriot_ been an interruption, by the time taken to write it, and the time luxuriously spent in listening to its applauses?' boswell. [ ] we had projected a voyage together up the baltic, and talked of visiting some of the more northern regions. boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] john hoole, the son of a london watchmaker, was born in dec. , and died on aug. , . at the age of seventeen he was placed as a clerk in the east-india house; but, like his successors, james and john stuart mill, he was an author as well as a clerk. see _ante_, i. . [ ] _cleonice_. boswell. nichols (_lit. anec_. ii. ) says that as _cleonice_ was a failure on the stage 'mr. hoole returned a considerable part of the money which he had received for the copy-right, alleging that, as the piece was not successful on the stage, it could not be very profitable to the bookseller, and ought not to be a loss.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] 'the king,' wrote horace walpole on jan. , (_letters_, vi. ), 'sent for the book in ms., and then wondering said, "i protest, johnson seems to be a papist and a jacobite--so he did not know why he had been made to give him a pension."' [ ] boswell's little daughter. boswell's _hebrides_, aug, , . [ ] 'bis dat qui cito dat, minimi gratia tarda pretii est.' alciat's _emblems_, alciati _opera_ , p. . [ ] it was at the turk's head coffee-house in the strand. see _ante_, i. . [ ] _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] 'exegi monumentum ære perennius.' horace, _odes_, iii. . i. [ ] the second edition was not brought out till the year after johnson's death. these mistakes remain uncorrected. johnson's _works_, ix. . . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] in the court of session of scotland an action is first tried by one of the judges, who is called the lord ordinary; and if either party is dissatisfied, he may appeal to the whole court, consisting of fifteen, the lord president and fourteen other judges, who have both in and out of court the title of lords, from the name of their estates; as, lord auchinleck, lord monboddo, &c. boswell. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] johnson had thus written of him (_works_, ix. ):--'i suppose my opinion of the poems of ossian is already discovered. i believe they never existed in any other form than that which we have seen. the editor, or author, never could show the original; nor can it be shown by any other. to revenge reasonable incredulity by refusing evidence is a degree of insolence with which the world is not yet acquainted; and stubborn audacity is the last refuge of guilt.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _taxation no tyranny_. see _post_, under march , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] in tickell's _epistle from the hon. charles fox to the hon. john townshend_ ( ) are the following lines (p. ):-- 'soon as to brooks's thence thy footsteps bend, what gratulations thy approach attend! see beauclerk's cheek a tinge of red surprise, and friendship give what cruel health denies.' [ ] it should be recollected, that this fanciful description of his friend was given by johnson after he himself had become a water-drinker. boswell. johnson, _post_, april , , describes one of his friends as _muddy_. on april , , in a discussion about wine, when reynolds said to him, 'you have sat by, quite sober, and felt an envy of the happiness of those who were drinking,' he replied, 'perhaps, contempt.' on april , , he said to reynolds: 'i won't argue any more with you, sir. you are too far gone.' see also _ante_, i. , note , where he said to him: 'sir, i did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?' [ ] see them in _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd edit. p. [oct. ]. boswell. [ ] he now sent me a latin inscription for my historical picture of mary queen of scots, and afterwards favoured me with an english translation. mr. alderman boydell, that eminent patron of the arts, has subjoined them to the engraving from my picture. 'maria scotorum regina homimun seditiosorum contumeliis lassata, minis territa, clamoribus victa libello, per quem regno cedit, lacrimans trepidansque nomen apponit?' 'mary queen of scots, harassed, terrified, and overpowered by the insults, menaces, and clamours of her rebellious subjects, sets her hand, with tears and confusion, to a resignation of the kingdom.' boswell. northcote (_life of reynolds_, ii. ) calls boydell 'the truest and greatest encourager of english art that england ever saw.' [ ] by the boston port-bill, passed in , boston had been closed as a port for the landing and shipping of goods. _ann. reg_. xvii. . [ ] becket, a bookseller in the strand, was the publisher of _ossian_. [ ] his lordship, notwithstanding his resolution, did commit his sentiments to paper, and in one of his notes affixed to his _collection of old scottish poetry_, he says, that 'to doubt the authenticity of those poems is a refinement in scepticism indeed.' j. blakeway. [ ] mr. croker writes (croker's _boswell_, p. , note):--'the original draft of these verses in johnson's autograph is now before me. he had first written:-- 'sunt pro legitimis pectora pura sacris;' he then wrote-- 'legitimas faciunt pura labella preces;' which more nearly approaches mr. boswell's version, and alludes, happily i think, to the prayers having been read by the young lady.... the line as it stands in the _works_ [sint pro legitimis pura labella sacris, i. ], is substituted in mr. langton's hand.... as i have reason to believe that mr. langton assisted in editing these latin _poemata_, i conclude that these alterations were his own.' [ ] the learned and worthy dr. lawrence, whom dr. johnson respected and loved as his physician and friend. boswell. 'dr. lawrence was descended, as sir egerton brydges informs me, from milton's friend ['lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son.' milton's _sonnets_, xx.]. one of his sons was sir soulden lawrence, one of the judges of the king's bench.' croker's _boswell_, p. . see _post_, march , . [ ] my friend has, in this letter, relied upon my testimony, with a confidence, of which the ground has escaped my recollection. boswell. lord shelburne said: 'like the generality of scotch, lord mansfield had no regard to truth whatever.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] dr. lawrence. see johnson's letter to warren hastings of dec. , . _post_, beginning of . [ ] i have deposited it in the british museum. boswell. mr. p. cunningham says:--'of all the mss. which boswell says he had deposited in the british museum, only the copy of the letter to lord chesterfield has been found, and that was not deposited by him, but after his death, "pursuant to the intentions of the late james boswell, esq."' croker's _boswell_, p. . the original letter to macpherson was sold in mr. pocock's collection in . it fetched £ , almost five times as much as johnson was paid for his _london_. it differs from the copy, if we can trust the auctioneer's catalogue, where the following passage is quoted:--'mr. james macpherson, i received your foolish and impudent note. whatever insult is offered me, i will do my best to repel, and what i cannot do for myself the law shall do for me. i will not desist from detecting what i think a cheat from any fear of the menaces of a ruffian.' [ ] in the _gent. mag_. for , p. , is announced: '_the iliad of homer_. translated by james macpherson, esq., vols. to. £ s. becket.' hume writes:--'finding the style of his _ossian_ admired by some, he attempts a translation of _homer_ in the very same style. he begins and finishes in six weeks a work that was for ever to eclipse the translation of pope, whom he does not even deign to mention in his preface; but this joke was still more unsuccessful [than his _history of britain_].' j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . hume says of him, that he had 'scarce ever known a man more perverse and unamiable.' _ib_ p. . [ ] 'within a few feet of johnson lies (by one of those singular coincidences in which the abbey abounds) his deadly enemy, james macpherson.' stanley's _westminster abbey_, p. . [ ] _hamlet_, act iii. sc. i. [ ] 'fear was indeed a sensation to which dr. johnson was an utter stranger, excepting when some sudden apprehensions seized him that he was going to die.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . in this respect his character might be likened to that of fearing, in _pilgrim's progress_ (part ii), as described by great-heart:--'when he came to the hill difficulty, he made no stick at that, nor did he much fear the lions; for you must know that his troubles were not about such things as these; his fear was about his acceptance at last.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , where garrick humorously foretold the round-house for johnson. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'it was,' writes hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'an oak-plant of a tremendous size; a plant, i say, and not a shoot or branch, for it had had a root which, being trimmed to the size of a large orange, became the head of it. its height was upwards of six feet, and from about an inch in diameter at the lower end, increased to near three; this he kept in his bed-chamber, so near the chair in which he constantly sat as to be within reach.' macpherson, like johnson, was a big man. dr. a. carlyle says (_auto_. p. ):--'he was good-looking, of a large size, with very thick legs, to hide which he generally wore boots, though not then the fashion. he appeared to me proud and reserved.' [ ] boswell wrote to temple on april :--'mr. johnson has allowed me to write out a supplement to his journey.' _letters of boswell_, p. . on may he wrote:--'i have not written out another line of my remarks on the hebrides. i found it impossible to do it in london. besides, dr. johnson does not seem very desirous that i should publish any supplement. _between ourselves, he is not apt to encourage one to share reputation with himself_.' _ib_ p. . [ ] colonel newcome, when a lad, 'was for ever talking of india, and the famous deeds of clive and lawrence. his favourite book was a history of india--the history of orme.' thackeray's _newcomes_, ch. . see _post_, april , . [ ] _richard ii_, act i. sc. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] a passage in the _north briton_, no. , shews how wide-spread this prejudice was. the writer gives his 'real, fair, and substantial objections to the administration of this _scot_ [lord bute]. the first is, that he is a _scot_. i am certain that reason could never believe that a _scot_ was fit to have the management of _english_ affairs. a _scot_ hath no more right to preferment in england than a _hanoverian_ or a _hottentot_.' in _humphry clinker_ (letter of july ) we read:--'from doncaster northwards all the windows of all the inns are scrawled with doggrel rhymes in abuse of the scotch nation.' horace walpole, writing of the contest between the house of commons and the city in , says of the scotch courtiers:--'the scotch wanted to come to blows, and _were at least not sorry to see the house of commons so contemptible_.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. . 'what a nation is scotland,' he wrote at the end of the gordon riots, 'in every reign engendering traitors to the state, and false and pernicious to the kings that favour it the most.' _letters_, vii. . see _post_, march , . lord shelburne, a man of a liberal mind, wrote:--'i can scarce conceive a scotchman capable of liberality, and capable of impartiality.' after calling them 'a sad set of innate cold-hearted, impudent rogues,' he continues:--'it's a melancholy thing that there is no finding any other people that will take pains, or be amenable even to the best purposes.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, iii. . hume wrote to his countryman, gilbert elliot, in :--'i do not believe there is one englishman in fifty, who, if he heard i had broke (sic) my neck to-night, would be sorry. some, because i am not a whig; some, because i am not a christian; and all, because i am a scotsman. can you seriously talk of my continuing an englishman? am i, or are you, an englishman?' elliot replies:--'notwithstanding all you say, we are both englishmen; that is, true british subjects, entitled to every emolument and advantage that our happy constitution can bestow.' burton's _hume_, ii. , . hume, in his prejudice against england, went far beyond johnson in his prejudice against scotland. in he wrote:--'i am delighted to see the daily and hourly progress of madness and folly and wickedness in england. the consummation of these qualities are the true ingredients for making a fine narrative in history, especially if followed by some signal and ruinous convulsion--as i hope will soon be the case with that pernicious people.' _ib_ p. . in he wrote:--'our government has become a chimera, and is too perfect, in point of liberty, for so rude a beast as an englishman; who is a man, a bad animal too, corrupted by above a century of licentiousness.' _ib_ p. . [ ] 'the love of planting,' wrote sir walter scott, 'which has become almost a passion, is much to be ascribed to johnson's sarcasms.' croker _corres_. ii. . lord jeffrey wrote from watford in :--'what a country this old england is. in a circle of twenty miles from this spot (leaving out london and its suburbs), there is more old timber ... than in all scotland.' cockburn's _jeffrey_, i. . see _post_, march , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] even david hume subscribed to the fund. he wrote in :--'certain it is that these poems are in every body's mouth in the highlands, have been handed down from father to son, and are of an age beyond all memory and tradition. adam smith told me that the piper of the argyleshire militia repeated to him all those which mr. macpherson had translated. we have set about a subscription of a guinea or two guineas apiece, in order to enable mr. macpherson to undertake a mission into the highlands to recover this poem, and other fragments of antiquity.' mason's _gray_, ii. . hume changed his opinion. 'on going to london,' writes dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ), 'he went over to the other side, and loudly affirmed the poems to be inventions of macpherson. i happened to say one day, when he was declaiming against macpherson, that i had met with nobody of his opinion but william caddel of cockenzie, and president dundas, which he took ill, and was some time of forgetting.' gibbon, in the _decline and fall_ (vol. i. ch. ), quoted ossian, but added:--'something of a doubtful mist still hangs over these highland traditions; nor can it be entirely dispelled by the most ingenious researches of modern criticism.' on this hume wrote to him on march , :--'i see you entertain a great doubt with regard to the authenticity of the poems of ossian.... where a supposition is so contrary to common sense, any positive evidence of it ought never to be regarded. men run with great avidity to give their evidence in favour of what flatters their passions and their national prejudices. you are therefore over and above indulgent to us in speaking of the matter with hesitation.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . so early as hume had asked dr. blair for 'proof that these poems were not forged within these five years by james macpherson. _these proofs must not be arguments, but testimonies_!' j. h. burton's _hume_, i. . smollett, it should seem, believed in ossian to the end. in humphry clinker, in the letter dated sept. , he makes one of his characters write:--'the poems of ossian are in every mouth. a famous antiquarian of this country, the laird of macfarlane, at whose house we dined, can repeat them all in the original gaelic.' see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] i find in his letters only sir a. macdonald (_ante_, ii. ) of whom this can be said. [ ] see _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, rd ed. p. [p. ]. boswell. [ ] for the letter, see the end of boswell's _hebrides_. [ ] _fossilist_ is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] 'rasay has little that can detain a traveller, except the laird and his family; but their power wants no auxiliaries. such a seat of hospitality amidst the winds and waters fills the imagination with a delightful contrariety of images.' _works_, ix. . [ ] page . boswell. [ ] from skye he wrote:--'the hospitality of this remote region is like that of the golden age. we have found ourselves treated at every house as if we came to confer a benefit.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] i observed with much regret, while the first edition of this work was passing through the press (aug. ), that this ingenious gentleman was dead. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , , and _post_, under march , . [ ] johnson (_works_, ix. ) says that 'the mediocrity of knowledge' obtained in the scotch universities, 'countenanced in general by a national combination so invidious that their friends cannot defend it, and actuated in particulars by a spirit of enterprise so vigorous that their enemies are constrained to praise it, enables them to find, or to make their way, to employment, riches, and distinction.' [ ] macpherson had great influence with the newspapers. horace walpole wrote in february, :--'macpherson, the ossianite, had a pension of £ a year from the court, to supervise the newspapers.' in dec. , walpole mentions the difficulty of getting 'a vindicatory paragraph' inserted in the papers, 'this was one of the great grievances of the time. macpherson had a pension of £ a year from court for inspecting newspapers, and inserted what lies he pleased, and prevented whatever he disapproved of being printed.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. , . [ ] this book was published in under the title of '_remarks on dr. samuel johnson's journey to the hebrides_, by the rev. donald m'nicol, a.m., minister of lismore, argyleshire.' in it was reprinted at glasgow together with johnson's _journey_, in one volume. the _remarks_ are a few pages shorter than the _journey_. by 'another scotchman,' boswell certainly meant macpherson. [ ] from a list in his hand-writing. boswell. [ ] 'such is the laxity of highland conversation that the inquirer is kept in continual suspense, and by a kind of intellectual retrogradation, knows less as he hears more.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'the highlanders are not much accustomed to be interrogated by others, and seem never to have thought upon interrogating themselves; so that, if they do not know what they tell to be true, they likewise do not distinctly perceive it to be false.' _ib_ . [ ] of his _journey to the western islands of scotland_. boswell. it was sold at five shillings a copy. it did not reach a second edition till , when perhaps a fresh demand for it was caused by the publication of boswell's _hebrides_. boswell, in a note, _post_, april , , says that copies were sold very quickly. hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) says that cadell told her that he had sold copies the first week. this, i think, must be an exaggeration. a german translation was brought out this same year. [ ] boswell, on the way to london, wrote to temple:--'i have continual schemes of publication, but cannot fix. i am still very unhappy with my father. we are so totally different that a good understanding is scarcely possible. he looks on my going to london just now as an _expedition_, as idle and extravagant, when in reality it is highly improving to me, considering the company which i enjoy.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'a scotchman must be a very sturdy moralist who does not love scotland better than truth; he will always love it better than inquiry; and if falsehood flatters his vanity, will not be very diligent to detect it.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] at slanes castle in aberdeenshire he wrote:--'i had now travelled two hundred miles in scotland, and seen only one tree not younger than myself.' _works_, ix. . goldsmith wrote from edinburgh on sept. , :--'every part of the country presents the same dismal landscape. no grove, nor brook lend their music to cheer the stranger, or make the inhabitants forget their poverty.' forsters _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] this, like his pamphlet on _falkland's islands_, was published without his name. [ ] see appendix. [ ] convicts were sent to nine of the american settlements. according to one estimate about , had been for many years sent annually. 'dr. lang, after comparing different estimates, concludes that the number sent might be about , altogether.' _penny cyclo_. xxv. . x. [ ] this 'clear and settled opinion' must have been formed in three days, and between grantham and london. for from that lincolnshire town he had written to temple on march :--'as to american affairs, i have really not studied the subject; it is too much for me perhaps, or i am too indolent or frivolous. from the smattering which newspapers have given me, i have been of different minds several times. that i am a tory, a lover of power in monarchy, and a discourager of much liberty in the people, i avow; but it is not clear to me that our colonies are completely our subjects.' _letters of boswell_, p. . four years later he wrote to temple:--'i must candidly tell you that i think you should not puzzle yourself with political speculations more than i do; neither of us is fit for that sort of mental labour.' _ib_ . see _post_, sept. , , for a contest between johnson and boswell on this subject. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] four years earlier he had also attacked him. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] lord camden, formerly chief justice pratt. see _ante_, ii. , note ; and _post_, april , . [ ] 'our people,' wrote franklin in (_memoirs_, vi. , ), 'must at least be doubled every twenty years.' the population he reckoned at upwards of one million. johnson referred to this rule also in the following passage:--'we are told that the continent of north america contains three millions, not of men merely, but of whigs, of whigs fierce for liberty and disdainful of dominion; that they multiply with the fecundity of their own rattlesnakes, so that every quarter of a century doubles their number.' _works_, vi. . burke, in his _speech of concilitation with america_, a fortnight after johnson's pamphlet appeared, said, 'your children do not grow faster from infancy to manhood than they spread from families to communities, and from villages to nations.' payne's _burke_, i. . [ ] dr. t. campbell records on april , (_diary_, p. ), that 'johnson said the first thing he would do would be to quarter the army on the cities, and if any refused free quarters, he would pull down that person's house, if it was joined to other houses; but would burn it if it stood alone. this and other schemes he proposed in the manuscript of _taxation no tyranny_, but these, he said, the ministry expunged. see _post_, april , , where, talking of the americans, johnson exclaimed, 'he'd burn and destroy them.' on june , , campbell records (_ib_. p. ) that johnson said to him:--'had we treated the americans as we ought, and as they deserved, we should have at once razed all their towns and let them enjoy their forests.' campbell justly describes this talk as 'wild rant.' [ ] 'he errs who deems obedience to a prince slav'ry--a happier freedom never reigns than with a pious monarch.' _stit_. iii. . croker. this volume was published in . the copy in the library of pembroke college, oxford, bears the inscription in johnson's hand: 'to sir joshua reynolds from the authour.' on the title-page sir joshua has written his own name. [ ] r. b. sheridan thought of joining in these attacks. in his _life_ by moore (i. ) fragments of his projected answer are given. he intended to attack johnson on the side of his pension. one thought he varies three times. 'such pamphlets,' he writes, 'will be as trifling and insincere as the venal quit-rent of a birth-day ode.' this again appears as 'the easy quit-rent of refined panegyric,' and yet again as 'the miserable quit-rent of an annual pamphlet.' [ ] see _post_, beginning of . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on june , :--'yesterday i met mr. hume at lord kame's. they joined in attacking dr. johnson to an absurd pitch. mr. hume said he would give me half-a-crown for every page of his _dictionary_ in which he could not find an absurdity, if i would give him half-a-crown for every page in which he did not find one: he talked so insolently really, that i calmly determined to be at him; so i repeated, by way of telling that dr. johnson _could_ be touched, the admirable passage in your letter, how the ministry had set him to write in a way that they "could not ask even their infidel pensioner hume to write." when hume asked if it was from an american, i said no, it was from an english gentleman. "would a _gentleman_ write so?" said he. in short, davy was finely punished for his treatment of my revered friend; and he deserved it richly, both for his petulance to so great a character and for his talking so before me.' _letters of boswell_, p. . hume's pension was £ . he obtained it through lord hertford, the english ambassador in paris, under whom he had served as secretary to the embassy. j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, aug. . [ ] dr. t. campbell records on march of this year (_diary_, p. ):--'thrale asked dr. johnson what sir joshua reynolds said of _taxation no tyranny_. "sir joshua," quoth the doctor, "has not read it." "i suppose," quoth thrale, "he has been very busy of late." "no," says the doctor, "but i never look at his pictures, so he won't read my writings." he asked johnson if he had got miss reynold's opinion, for she, it seems, is a politician. "as to that," quoth the doctor, "it is no great matter, for she could not tell after she had read it on which said of the question mr. burke's speech was."' [ ] w.g. hamilton. [ ] see _post_, nov. , . [ ] sixteen days after this pamphlet was published, lord north, as chancellor of the university of oxford, proposed that the degree of doctor in civil law should be conferred on johnson (_post_, p. ). perhaps the chancellor in this was cheaply rewarding the service that had been done to the minister. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] johnson's _journey to the western islands of scotland_, ed. , p. . [johnson's _works_, ix. .] boswell. see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] he had written to temple six days earlier:--'second sight pleases my superstition which, you know, is not small, and being not of the gloomy but the grand species, is an enjoyment; and i go further than mr. johnson, for the facts which i heard convinced me.' _letters of boswell_, p. . when ten years later he published his _tour_, he said (nov. , ) that he had returned from the hebrides with a considerable degree of faith; 'but,' he added, 'since that time my belief in those stories has been much weakened.' [ ] this doubt has been much agitated on both sides, i think without good reason. see addison's _freeholder, may , . _the freeholder_ was published from dec. to june . in the number for may there is no mention of _the tale of a tub_; _an apology for the tale of a tub_ (swift's _works_, ed. , iii. );--dr. hawkesworth's preface to swift's _works_, and swift's letter to tooke the printer, and tooke's answer, in that collection;--sheridan's _life of swift_;--mr. courtenay's note on p. of his _poetical review of the literary and moral character of dr. johnson_; and mr. cooksey's _essay on the life and character of john lord somers, baron of evesham_. dr. johnson here speaks only to the _internal evidence_. i take leave to differ from him, having a very high estimation of the powers of dr. swift. his _sentiments of a church-of-england-man_, his _sermon on the trinity_, and other serious pieces, prove his learning as well as his acuteness in logick and metaphysicks; and his various compositions of a different cast exhibit not only wit, humour, and ridicule; but a knowledge 'of nature, and art, and life:' a combination therefore of those powers, when (as the _apology_ says,) 'the authour was young, his invention at the heighth, and his reading fresh in his head,' might surely produce _the tale of a tub_. boswell. [ ] 'his _tale of a tub_ has little resemblance to his other pieces. it exhibits a vehemence and rapidity of mind, a copiousness of images and vivacity of diction such as he afterwards never possessed, or never exerted. it is of a mode so distinct and peculiar that it must be considered by itself; what is true of that is not true of anything else which he has written.' johnson's _works_, viii. . at the conclusion of the _life of swift_ (_ib_. ), johnson allows him one great merit:--'it was said in a preface to one of the irish editions that swift had never been known to take a single thought from any writer, ancient or modern. this is not literally true; but perhaps no writer can easily be found that has borrowed so little, or that in all his excellencies and all his defects has so well maintained his claim to be considered as original.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson in his _dictionary_, under the article _shave_, quotes swift in one example, and in the next _gulliver's travels_, not admitting, it should seem, that swift had written that book. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . david hume wrote of home's _agis_:--'i own, though i could perceive fine strokes in that tragedy, i never could in general bring myself to like it: the author, i thought, had corrupted his taste by the imitation of shakespeare, whom he ought only to have admired.' j.h. burton's _hume_, i. . about _douglas_ he wrote:--'i am persuaded it will be esteemed the best, and by french critics the only tragedy of our language.' _ib_ ii. . hume perhaps admired it the more as it was written, to use his own words, 'by a namesake of mine.' _ib_ i. . _home_ is pronounced _hume_. he often wrote of his friend as 'mr. john hume, _alias_ home.' a few days before his death he added the following codicil to his will:--'i leave to my friend mr. john home, of kilduff, ten dozen of my old claret at his choice; and one single bottle of that other liquor called port. i also leave to him six dozen of port, provided that he attests, under his hand, signed john _hume_, that he has himself alone finished that bottle at two sittings. by this concession he will at once terminate the only two differences that ever arose between us concerning temporal matters.' _ib_ ii. . sir walter scott wrote in his _diary_ in :--'i finished the review of john home's works, which, after all, are poorer than i thought them. good blank verse, and stately sentiment, but something luke-warmish, excepting _douglas_, which is certainly a masterpiece. even that does not stand the closet. its merits are for the stage; and it is certainly one of the best acting plays going.' lockhart's _scott_, ix. . [ ] sheridan, says mr. s. whyte (_miscellanea nova_, p. ), brought out _douglas_ at the dublin theatre. the first two nights it had great success. the third night was as usual to be the author's. it had meanwhile got abroad that he was a clergyman. this play was considered a profanation, a faction was raised, and the third night did not pay its expenses. it was whyte who suggested that, by way of consolation, sheridan should give home a gold medal. the inscription said that he presented it to him 'for having enriched the stage with a perfect tragedy.' whyte took the medal to london. when he was close at his journey's end, 'i was,' he writes, 'stopped by highwaymen, and preserved the medal by the sacrifice of my purse at the imminent peril of my life.' [ ] 'no merit now the dear nonjuror claims, molière's old stubble in a moment flames.' the _nonjuror_ was 'a comedy thrashed out of molière's _tartuffe_.' _the dunciad_, i. . [ ] see _post_, june , ; also macaulay's _england_, ch. xiv. (ed. , v. ), for remarks on what johnson here says. [ ] see _ante_, i. , where his name is spelt _madden_. [ ] this was not merely a cursory remark; for in his _life of fenton_ he observes, 'with many other wise and virtuous men, who at that time of discord and debate (about the beginning of this century) consulted conscience [whether] well or ill informed, more than interest, he doubted the legality of the government; and refusing to qualify himself for publick employment, by taking the oaths [by the oaths] required, left the university without a degree.' this conduct johnson calls 'perverseness of integrity.' [johnson's _works_, viii. . the question concerning the morality of taking oaths, of whatever kind, imposed by the prevailing power at the time, rather than to be excluded from all consequence, or even any considerable usefulness in society, has been agitated with all the acuteness of casuistry. it is related, that he who devised the oath of abjuration, profligately boasted, that he had framed a test which should 'damn one half of the nation, and starve the other.' upon minds not exalted to inflexible rectitude, or minds in which zeal for a party is predominant to excess, taking that oath against conviction may have been palliated under the plea of necessity, or ventured upon in heat, as upon the whole producing more good than evil. at a county election in scotland, many years ago, when there was a warm contest between the friends of the hanoverian succession, and those against it, the oath of abjuration having been demanded, the freeholders upon one side rose to go away. upon which a very sanguine gentleman, one of their number, ran to the door to stop them, calling out with much earnestness, 'stay, stay, my friends, and let us swear the rogues out of it!' boswell. johnson, writing of the oaths required under the militia bill of , says:--'the frequent imposition of oaths has almost ruined the morals of this unhappy nation, and of a nation without morals it is of small importance who shall be king.' _lit. mag_. , i. . [ ] dr. harwood sent me the following extract from the book containing the proceedings of the corporation of lichfield: ' th july, . agreed that mr. michael johnson be, and he is hereby elected a magistrate and brother of their incorporation; a day is given him to thursday next to take the oath of fidelity and allegiance, and the oath of a magistrate. signed, &c.'--' th july, . mr. johnson took the oath of allegiance and that he believed there was no transubstantiation in the sacrament of the lord's supper before, &c.'--croker. [ ] a parody on _macbeth_, act ii. sc. . [ ] lord southampton asked bishop watson of llandaff 'how he was to bring up his son so as to make him get forwards in the world. "i know of but one way," replied the bishop; "give him parts and poverty." "well then," replied lord s., "if god has given him parts, i will manage as to the poverty."' h. c. robinson's _diary_, i. . lord eldon said that thurlow promised to give him a post worth about £ a year, but he never did. 'in after life,' said eldon, 'i inquired of him why he had not fulfilled his promise. his answer was curious:--"it would have been your ruin. young men are very apt to be content when they get something to live upon; so when i saw what you were made of, i determined to break my promise to make you work;" and i dare say he was right, for there is nothing does a young lawyer so much good as to be half starved.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] in new street, near gough square, in fleet street, whither in february the king's printinghouse was removed from what is still called printing house square. croker. dr. spottiswoode, the late president of the royal society, was the great-grandson of mr. strahan. [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] johnson wrote to dr. taylor on april of this year:--'i have placed young davenport in the greatest printing house in london, and hear no complaint of him but want of size, which will not hinder him much. he may when he is a journeyman always get a guinea a week.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . mr. jewitt in the _gent. mag_. for dec. , gives an account of this lad. he was the orphan son of a clergyman, a friend of the rev. w. langley, master of ashbourne school (see _post_, sept. , ). mr. langley asked johnson's help 'in procuring him a place in some eminent printing office.' davenport wrote to mr. langley nearly eight years later:--'according to your desire, i consulted dr. johnson about my future employment in life, and he very laconically told me "to work hard at my trade, as others had done before me." i told him my size and want of strength prevented me from getting so much money as other men. "then," replied he, "you must get as much as you can."' the boy was nearly sixteen when he was apprenticed, and had learnt enough latin to quote virgil, so that there was nothing in johnson's speech beyond his understanding. [ ] seven years afterwards, johnson described this evening. miss monckton had told him that he must see mrs. siddons. 'well, madam,' he answered, 'if you desire it, i will go. see her i shall not, nor hear her; but i'll go, and that will do. the last time i was at a play, i was ordered there by mrs. abington, or mrs. somebody, i do not well remember who; but i placed myself in the middle of the first row of the front boxes, to show that when i was called i came.' mme. d' arblay's _diary_, ii. . at fontainebleau he went--to a comedy (_post_, oct. , ), so that it was not 'the last time he was at a play.' [ ] 'one evening in the oratorio season of ,' writes mrs. piozzi (anec. ), 'mr. johnson went with me to covent garden theatre. he sat surprisingly quiet, and i flattered myself that he was listening to the music. when we were got home he repeated these verses, which he said he had made at the oratorio:-- "in theatre, march , . tertii verso quater orbe lustri, quid theatrales tibi, crispe, pompae? quam decet canos male literates sera voluptas! tene mulceri fidibus canoris? tene cantorum modulis stupere? tene per pictas, oculo elegante, currere formas? inter aequales, sine felle liber, codices veri studiosus inter rectius vives. sua quisque carpal gaudia gratus. lusibus gaudet puer otiosis, luxus oblectat juvenem theatri, at seni fluxo sapienter uti tempore restat."' (_works_, i. .) [ ] _bon ton, or high life above stairs_, by garrick. he made king the comedian a present of this farce, and it was acted for the first time on his benefit-a little earlier in the month. murphy's _garrick_, pp. , [ ] 'august, . an epilogue of mr. garrick's to _bonduca_ was mentioned, and dr. johnson said it was a miserable performance:--"i don't know," he said, "what is the matter with david; i am afraid he is grown superannuated, for his prologues and epilogues used to be incomparable."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'scottish brethren and architects, who had bought durham yard, and erected a large pile of buildings under the affected name of the adelphi. these men, of great taste in their profession, were attached particularly to lord bute and lord mansfield, and thus by public and private nationality zealous politicians.' walpole's _memoirs of the reign of george iii_. iv. . hume wrote to adam smith in june , at a time where there was 'a universal loss of credit':--'of all the sufferers, i am the most concerned for the adams. but their undertakings were so vast, that nothing could support them. they must dismiss workmen, who, comprehending the materials, must have expended above £ , a year. to me the scheme of the adelphi always appeared so imprudent, that my wonder is how they could have gone on so long.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii, . garrick lived in the adelphi. [ ] 'man looks aloft, and with erected eyes, beholds his own hereditary skies.' dryden, ovid, _meta_. i. . [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) says that she was made 'the umpire in a trial of skill between garrick and boswell, which could most nearly imitate dr. johnson's manner. i remember i gave it for boswell in familiar conversation, and for garrick in reciting poetry.' [ ] 'gesticular mimicry and buffoonery johnson hated, and would often huff garrick for exercising it his presence.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . [ ] in the first two editions johnson is represented as only saying, 'davy is futile.' [ ] my noble friend lord pembroke said once to me at wilton, with a happy pleasantry and some truth, that 'dr. johnson's sayings would not appear so extraordinary, were it not for his _bow-wow way_.' the sayings themselves are generally of sterling merit; but, doubtless, his _manner_ was an addition to their effect; and therefore should be attended to as much as may be. it is necessary however, to guard those who were not acquainted with him, against overcharged imitations or caricatures of his manner, which are frequently attempted, and many of which are second-hand copies from the late mr. henderson the actor, who, though a good mimick of some persons, did not represent johnson correctly. boswell. [ ] see '_prosodia rationalis_; or, an essay towards establishing the melody and measure of speech, to be expressed and perpetuated by peculiar symbols.' london, . boswell. [ ] i use the phrase _in score_, as dr. johnson has explained it in his _dictionary_:--'a _song in_ score, the words with the musical notes of a song annexed.' but i understand that in scientific property it means all the parts of a musical composition noted down in the characters by which it is established to the eye of the skillful. boswell. it was _declamation_ that steele pretended to reduce to notation by new characters. this he called the _melody_ of speech, not the harmony, which is the term in _score_ implies. burney. [ ] johnson, in his _life of gray_ (_works_, viii. ), spoke better of him. 'what has occurred to me from the slight inspection of his _letters_, in which my understanding has engaged me, is, that his mind had a large gap; that his curiosity was unlimited, and his judgment cultivated.' horace walpole (_letters_, ii ) allowed that he was bad company. 'sept. , . i agree with you most absolutely in your opinion about gray; he is the worst company in the world. from a melancholy turn, from living reclusely, and from a little too much dignity, he never converses easily; all his words are measured and chosen, his writings are admirable; he himself is not agreeable.' [ ] in the original, 'give ample room and verge enough.' in the _life of gray_ (_works_, vii. ) johnson says that the slaughtered bards 'are called upon to "weave the warp, and weave the woof," perhaps with no great propriety; for it is by crossing the _woof_ with the _warp_ that men weave the _web_ or piece; and the first line was dearly bought by the admission of its wretched correspondent, "give ample room and verge enough." he has, however, no other line as bad.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] this word, which is in the first edition, is not in the second or third. [ ] '_the church-yard_ abounds with images which find a mirror in every mind, and with sentiments to which every bosom returns an echo. the four stanzas, beginning "yet even these bones," are to me original. i have never seen the notions in any other place; yet he that reads them here persuades himself that he has always felt them. had gray written often thus, it had been vain to blame, and useless to praise him.' _works_, viii. . goldsmith, in his _life of parnell_ (_misc. works_, iv. ), thus seems to sneer at _the elegy_:--'the _night piece_ on death deserves every praise, and, i should suppose, with very little amendment, might be made to surpass all those night pieces and _church-yard scenes_ that have since appeared.' [ ] mr. croker says, 'no doubt lady susan fox who, in , married mr. william o'brien, an actor.' it was in that she was married, so that it is not likely that she was the subject of this talk. see horace valpole's _letters_, iv. . [ ] mrs. thrale's marriage with mr. piozzi. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] boswell was of the same way of thinking as squire western, who 'did indeed consider a parity of fortune and circumstances to be physically as necessary an ingredient in marriage as difference of sexes, or any other essential; and had no more apprehension of his daughter falling in love with a poor man than with any animal of a different species.' _tom jones_, bk. vi. ch. . [ ] 'temptanda via est, qua me quoque possim tollere humo victorque virum volitare per ora.' 'new ways i must attempt, my grovelling name to raise aloft, and wing my flight to fame.' dryden, virgil, _georg_. iii. . 'chesterfield was at once the most distinguished orator in the upper house, and the undisputed sovereign of wit and fashion. he held this eminence for about forty years. at last it became the regular custom of the higher circles to laugh whenever he opened his mouth, without waiting for his _bon mot_. he used to sit at white's, with a circle of young men of rank around him, applauding every syllable that he uttered.' macaulay's _life_, i. . [ ] with the literary club, as is shewn by boswell's letter of april , , in which he says:--'i dine on friday at the turk's head, gerrard street, with our club, who now dine once a month, and sup every friday.' _letters of boswell_, p. . the meeting of friday, march , is described _ante_, p. , and that of april , _post_, p. . [ ] very likely boswell (_ante_, ii. , note ). [ ] in the _garrick corres_. (ii. ) is a letter dated march , , from (to use garrick's own words) 'that worst of bad women, mrs. abington, to ask my playing for her benefit.' it is endorsed by garrick:--'a copy of mother abington's letter about leaving the stage.' [ ] twenty years earlier he had recommended to miss boothby as a remedy for indigestion dried orange-peel finely powdered, taken in a glass of hot red port. 'i would not,' he adds, 'have you offer it to the doctor as my medicine. physicians do not love intruders.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, april , . [ ] the misprint of _chancellor_ for _gentlemen_ is found in both the second and third editions. it is not in the first. [ ] extracted from the convocation register, oxford. boswell. [ ] the original is in my possession. he shewed me the diploma, and allowed me to read it, but would not consent to my taking a copy of it, fearing perhaps that i should blaze it abroad in his life-time. his objection to this appears from his th letter to mrs. thrale, whom in that letter he thus scolds for the grossness of her flattery of him:--'the other oxford news is, that they have sent me a degree of doctor of laws, with such praises in the diploma as perhaps ought to make me ashamed: they are very like your praises. i wonder whether i shall ever shew it [_them_ in the original] to you.' it is remarkable that he never, so far as i know, assumed his title of _doctor_, but called himself _mr_. johnson, as appears from many of his cards or notes to myself; and i have seen many from him to other persons, in which he uniformly takes that designation. i once observed on his table a letter directed to him with the addition of _esquire_, and objected to it as being a designation inferiour to that of doctor; but he checked me, and seemed pleased with it, because, as i conjectured, he liked to be sometimes taken out of the class of literary men, and to be merely _genteel,--un gentilhomme comme un autre_. boswell. see post, march , , where johnson applies the title to himself in speaking, and april , , where he does in writing, and boswell's hebrides, aug. , , note. [ ] 'to make a man pleased with himself, let me tell you, is doing a very great thing.' _post_, april , . [ ] 'the original is in the hands of dr. forthergril, then vice-chancellor, who made this transcript.' t. warton--boswell. [ ] bruce, the abyssinian traveller, as is shewn by _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] 'that the design [of the _dunciad_] was moral, whatever the author might tell either his readers or himself, i am not convinced. the first motive was the desire of revenging the contempt with which theobald had treated his _shakespeare_ and regaining the honour which he had lost, by crushing his opponent.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] 'daughter of chaos and old night, cimmerian muse, all hail! that wrapt in never-twinkling gloom canst write, and shadowest meaning with thy dusky veil! what poet sings and strikes the strings? it was the mighty theban spoke. he from the ever-living lyre with magic hand elicits fire. heard ye the din of modern rhymers bray? it was cool m-n; or warm g-y, involv'd in tenfold smoke.' colman's _prose on several occasions_, ii. . [ ] 'these _odes_,' writes colman, 'were a piece of boys' play with my schoolfellow lloyd, with whom they were written in concert.' _ib_ i. xi. in the _connoisseur_ (_ante_, i. ) they had also written in concert. 'their humour and their talents were well adapted to what they had undertaken; and beaumont and fletcher present what is probably the only parallel instance of literary co-operation so complete, that the portions written by the respective parties are undistinguishable.' southey's _cowper_, i. . [ ] _ante_, i. . [ ] boswell writing to temple two days later, recalled the time 'when you and i sat up all night at cambridge and read gray with a noble enthusiasm; when we first used to read mason's _elfrida_, and when we talked of that elegant knot of worthies, gray, mason, walpole, &c.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] 'i have heard mr. johnson relate how he used to sit in some coffee-house at oxford, and turn m----'s _c-r-ct-u-s_ into ridicule for the diversion of himself and of chance comers-in. "the _elf--da_," says he, "was too exquisitely pretty; i could make no fun out of that."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . i doubt whether johnson used the word _fun_, which he describes in his _dictionary_ as 'a low cant [slang] word.' [ ] see _post_, march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , and under nov. , . according to dr. t. campbell (_diary_, p. ), johnson, on march , had said that _taxation no tyranny_ did not sell. [ ] six days later he wrote to dr. taylor:--'the patriots pelt me with answers. four pamphlets, i think, already, besides newspapers and reviews, have been discharged against me. i have tried to read two of them, but did not go through them.' _notes and queries_, th s., v. . [ ] 'mrs. macaulay,' says mr. croker, who quotes johnson's _works_, vi. , where she is described as 'a female patriot bewailing the miseries of her friends and fellow-citizens.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , and _post_, sept. , , for another landlord's account of johnson. [ ] from dryden's lines on milton. [ ] horace walpole wrote, on jan. , (_letters_, vi. ):--'they [the millers] hold a parnassus-fair every thursday, give out rhymes and themes, and all the flux of quality at bath contend for the prizes. a roman vase, dressed with pink ribands and myrtles, receives the poetry, which is drawn out every festival: six judges of these olympic games retire and select the brightest compositions, which the respective successful acknowledge, kneel to mrs. calliope miller, kiss her fair hand, and are crowned by it with myrtle, with--i don't know what.' [ ] miss burney wrote, in :--'do you know now that, notwithstanding bath-easton is so much laughed at in london, nothing here is more tonish than to visit lady miller. she is a round, plump, coarse-looking dame of about forty, and while all her aim is to appear an elegant woman of fashion, all her success is to seem an ordinary woman in very common life, with fine clothes on.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'yes, on my faith, there are _bouts-rimés_ on a buttered muffin, made by her grace the duchess of northumberland.' walpole's _letters_, vi. . 'she was,' walpole writes, 'a jovial heap of contradictions. she was familiar with the mob, while stifled with diamonds; and yet was attentive to the most minute privileges of her rank, while almost shaking hands with a cobbler.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . dr. percy showed her goldsmith's ballad of _edwin and angelina_ in ms., and she had a few copies privately printed. forster's _goldsmith_, i. . [ ] perhaps mr. seward, who was something of a literary man, and who visited bath (_post_, under march , ). [ ] '--rerum fluctibus in mediis et tempestatibus urbis.' horace, _epistles_, ii. . . see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'qui semel adspexit quantum dimissa petitis præstent, mature redeat repetatque relicta.' horace, _epistles_, i. . . 'to his first state let him return with speed, who sees how far the joys he left exceed his present choice.' francis. malone says that 'walpole, after he ceased to be minister, endeavoured to amuse his mind with reading. but one day when mr. welbore ellis was in his library, he heard him say, with tears in his eyes, after having taken up several books and at last thrown away a folio just taken down from a shelf, "alas! it is all in vain; _i cannot read_."' prior's _malone_, p. . lord eldon, after his retirement, said to an inn-keeper who was thinking of giving up business:--'believe me, for i speak from experience, when a man who has been much occupied through life arrives at having nothing to do, he is very apt not to know what to do _with himself_.' later on, he said:--'it was advice given by me in the spirit of that principal of brasenose, who, when he took leave of young men quitting college, used to say to them, "let me give you one piece of advice, _cave de resignationibus_." and very good advice too.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, april , . he had but lately begun to visit london. 'such was his constant apprehension of the small-pox, that he lived for twenty years within twenty miles of london, without visiting it more than once.' at the age of thirty-five he was inoculated, and henceforth was oftener in town. campbell's _british poets_, p. . [ ] mr. s. raymond, prothonotary of the supreme court of new south wales, published in sydney in the _diary of a visit to england in . by an irishman_ (_the rev. dr. thomas campbell_,) _with notes_. the ms., the editor says, was discovered behind an old press in one of the offices of his court. the name of the writer nowhere appears in the ms. it is clear, however, that if it is not a forgery, the author was campbell. in the _edinburgh review_ for oct., , its authenticity is examined, and is declared to be beyond a doubt. lord macaulay aided the reviewer in his investigation. _ib_ p. . he could scarcely, however, have come to his task with a mind altogether free from bias, for the editor 'has contrived,' we are told, 'to expose another of mr. croker's blunders.' faith in him cannot be wrong who proves that croker is not in the right. the value of this _diary_ is rated too highly by the reviewer. the master of balliol college has pointed out to me that it adds but very little to johnson's sayings. so far as he is concerned, we are told scarcely anything of mark that we did not know already. this makes the master doubt its genuineness. i have noticed one suspicious passage. an account is given of a dinner at mr. thrale's on april , at which campbell met murphy, boswell, and baretti. 'johnson's _bons mots_ were retailed in such plenty that they, like a surfeit, could not lie upon my memory.' in one of the stories told by murphy, johnson is made to say, 'damn the rascal.' murphy would as soon have made the archbishop of canterbury swear as johnson; much sooner the archbishop of york. it was murphy 'who paid him the highest compliment that ever was paid to a layman, by asking his pardon for repeating some oaths in the course of telling a story' (_post_, april , ). even supposing that at this time he was ignorant of his character, though the supposition is a wild one, he would at once have been set right by boswell and the thrales (_post_, under march , ). it is curious, that this anecdote imputing profanity to johnson is not quoted by the edinburgh reviewer. on the whole i think that the _diary_ is genuine, and accordingly i have quoted it more than once. [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that johnson spoke of browne as 'of all conversers the most delightful with whom he ever was in company.' pope's bathos, in his lines to murray:-- 'graced as thou art with all the power of words, so known, so honoured, at the house of lords,' was happily parodied by browne:-- 'persuasion tips his tongue whene'er he talks, and he has chambers in the king's bench walks.' pattison's _satires of pope_, pp. , . see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] horace walpole says of beckford's bribery bill of :--'grenville, to flatter the country gentlemen, who can ill afford to combat with great lords, nabobs, commissaries, and west indians, declaimed in favour of the bill.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , where he said much the same. another day, however, he agreed that a landlord ought to give leases to his tenants, and not 'wish to keep them in a wretched dependance on his will. "it is a man's duty," he said, "to extend comfort and security among as many people as he can. he should not wish to have his tenants mere _ephemerae_--mere beings of an hour."' boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] 'thomas hickey is now best remembered by a characteristic portrait of his friend tom davies, engraved with hickey's name to it.' p. cunningham. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . in the _life of pope_ (_works_, viii. ), johnson says that 'the shafts of satire were directed in vain against cibber, being repelled by his impenetrable impudence.' pope speaks of gibber's 'impenetrability.' elwin's _pope_, ix. . [ ] he alludes perhaps to a note on the _dunciad_, ii, , in which it is stated that 'the author has celebrated even cibber himself (presuming him to be the author of the _careless husband_).' see _post_, may , , note. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] burke told malone that 'hume, in compiling his _history_, did not give himself a great deal of trouble in examining records, &c.; and that the part he most laboured at was the reign of king charles ii, for whom he had an unaccountable partiality.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] yet johnson (_works_, vii. ) wrote of otway, who was nine years old when charles ii. came to the throne, and who outlived him by only a few weeks:--'he had what was in those times the common reward of loyalty; he lived and died neglected.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that he heard johnson 'speak of dr. hodges who, in the height of the great plague of , continued in london, and was almost the only one of his profession that had the courage to oppose his art to the spreading of the contagion. it was his hard fate, a short time after, to die in prison for debt in ludgate. johnson related this to us with the tears ready to start from his eyes; and, with great energy, said, "such a man would not have been suffered to perish in these times."' [ ] johnson in said that william iii. 'was arbitrary, insolent, gloomy, rapacious, and brutal; that he was at all times disposed to play the tyrant; that he had, neither in great things nor in small, the manners of a gentleman; that he was capable of gaining money by mean artifices, and that he only regarded his promise when it was his interest to keep it.' _works_, vi. . nearly forty years later, in his _life of rowe_ (_ib_. vii. ), he aimed a fine stroke at that king. 'the fashion of the time,' he wrote, 'was to accumulate upon lewis all that can raise horrour and detestation; and whatever good was withheld from him, that it might not be thrown away, was bestowed upon king william.' yet in the _life of prior_ (_ib_. viii. ) he allowed him great merit. 'his whole life had been action, and none ever denied him the resplendent qualities of steady resolution and personal courage.' see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , . [ ] 'the fact of suppressing the will is indubitably true,' wrote horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ). 'when the news arrived of the death of george i, my father carried the account from lord townshend to the then prince of wales. the council met as soon as possible. there archbishop wake, with whom one copy of the will had been deposited, advanced, and delivered the will to the king, who put it into his pocket, and went out of council without opening it, the archbishop not having courage or presence of mind to desire it to be read, as he ought to have done. i was once talking to the late lady suffolk, the former mistress, on that extraordinary event. she said, "i cannot justify the deed to the legatees; but towards his father, the late king was justifiable, for george i. had burnt two wills made in favour of george ii."' [ ] 'charles ii. by his affability and politeness made himself the idol of the nation, which he betrayed and sold.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] 'it was maliciously circulated that george was indifferent to his own succession, and scarcely willing to stretch out a hand to grasp the crown within his reach.' coxe's _memoirs of walpole_, i. . [ ] plin. _epist_. lib. ii. ep. . boswell. [ ] mr. davies was here mistaken. corelli never was in england. burney. [ ] mr. croker is wrong in saying that the irishman in mrs. thrale's letter of may , (_piozzi letters_, i. ), is dr. campbell. the man mentioned there had never met johnson, though she wrote more than a year after this dinner at davies's. she certainly quotes one of 'dr. c-l's phrases,' but she might also have quoted shakspeare. i have no doubt that mrs. thrale's irishman was a mr. musgrave (_post_, under june , , note), who is humorously described in mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . since writing this note i have seen that the edinburgh reviewer (oct. , p. ) had come to the same conclusion. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , , where johnson said that 'he did not approve of a judge's calling himself farmer burnett, and going about with a little round hat.' [ ] 'if all the employments of life were crowded into the time which it [sic] really occupied, perhaps a few weeks, days, or hours would be sufficient for its accomplishment, so far as the mind was engaged in the performance.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] johnson certainly did, who had a mind stored with knowledge, and teeming with imagery: but the observation is not applicable to writers in general. boswell. see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] there has probably been some mistake as to the terms of this supposed extraordinary contract, the recital of which from hearsay afforded johnson so much play for his sportive acuteness. or if it was worded as he supposed, it is so strange that i should conclude it was a joke. mr. gardner, i am assured, was a worthy and a liberal man. boswell. thurlow, when attorney-general, had been counsel for the donaldsons, in the appeal before the house of lords on the right of literary property (_ante_, i. , and ii. ). in his argument 'he observed (exemplifying his observations by several cases) that the booksellers had not till lately ever concerned themselves about authors.' _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] 'the booksellers of london are denominated _the trade_' (_post_, april , , note). [ ] _bibliopole_ is not in johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] the literary club. see _ante_, p. , note . mr. croker says that the records of the club show that, after the first few years, johnson very rarely attended, and that he and boswell never met there above seven or eight times. it may be observed, he adds, how very rarely boswell records the conversation at the club, except in one instance (_post_, april, , ), he says, boswell confines his report to what johnson or himself may have said. that this is not strictly true is shewn by his report of the dinner recorded above, where we find reported remarks of beauclerk and gibbon. seven meetings besides this are mentioned by boswell. see _ante_, ii. , , , ; and _post_, april , , april , , and june , . of all but the last there is some report, however brief, of something said. when johnson was not present, boswell would have nothing to record in this book. [ ] _travels through germany, &c_., - . [ ] _travels through holland, &c. translated from the french_, . [ ] see _post_, march , , and may , . [ ] _description of the east_, - . [ ] johnson had made the same remark, and boswell had mentioned leandro alberti, when they were talking in an inn in the island of mull. boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] addison does not mention where this epitaph, which has eluded a very diligent inquiry, is found. malone. i have found it quoted in old howell. 'the italian saying may be well applied to poor england:--"i was well--would be better--took physic--and died."' _lett_. jan. , . croker. it is quoted by addison in _the spectator_, no. :--'this letter puts me in mind of an italian epitaph written on the monument of a valetudinarian: _stavo ben, ma per star meglio sto qui_, which it is impossible to translate.' [ ] lord chesterfield, as mr. croker points out, makes the same observation in one of his _letters to his son_ (ii. ). boswell, however, does not get it from him, for he had said the same in the _hebrides_, six months before the publication of chesterfield's _letters_. addison, in the preface to his _remarks_, says:--'before i entered on my voyage i took care to refresh my memory among the classic authors, and to make such collections out of them as i might afterwards have occasion for.' [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] 'it made an impression on the army that cannot be well imagined by those who saw it not. the whole army, and at last all people both in city and country were singing it perpetually, and perhaps never had so slight a thing so great an effect.' bumet's own time, ed. , ii. . in tristram shandy, vol. i. chap. , when mr. shandy advanced one of his hypotheses:--'my uncle toby,' we read, 'would never offer to answer this by any other kind of argument than that of whistling half-a-dozen bars of lilliburlero.' [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] 'of gibbon, mackintosh neatly remarked that he might have been cut out of a corner of burke's mind, without his missing it.' _life of mackintosh_, i. . it is worthy of notice that gibbon scarcely mentions johnson in his writings. moreover, in the names that he gives of the members of the literary club, 'who form a large and luminous constellation of british stars,' though he mentions eighteen of them, he passes over boswell. gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . see also _post_, april , . [ ] we may compare with this dryden's line:-- 'usurped a patriot's all-atoning name.' _absalom and achitophel_, l. . hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'to party opposition johnson ever expressed great aversion, and of the pretences of patriots always spoke with indignation and contempt.' he had, hawkins adds, 'partaken of the short-lived joy that infatuated the public' when walpole fell; but a few days convinced him that the patriotism of the opposition had been either hatred or ambition. for _patriots_, see _ante_, i. , note, and _post_, april , . [ ] mr. burke. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] lord north's ministry lasted from to . [ ] perhaps johnson had this from davies, who says (_life of garrick_, i. ):--'mrs. pritchard read no more of the play of _macbeth_ than her own part, as written out and delivered to her by the prompter.' she played the heroine in _irene_ (_ante_, i. ). see _post_ under sept. , , where johnson says that 'in common life she was a vulgar idiot,' and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] a misprint for april . [ ] boswell calls him the 'irish dr. campbell,' to distinguish him from the scotch dr. campbell mentioned _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] baretti, in a ms. note in his copy of _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'johnson was often fond of saying silly things in strong terms, and the silly madam [mrs. thrale] never failed to echo that beastly kind of wit.' [ ] according to dr. t. campbell, who was present at the dinner (_diary_, p. ), barry and garrick were the two actors, and murphy the author. if murphy said this in the heat of one of his quarrels with garrick, he made amends in his _life_ of that actor (p. ):--'it was with garrick,' he wrote, 'a fixed principle, that authors were entitled to the emolument of their labours, and by that generous way of thinking he held out an invitation to men of genius.' [ ] page , vol. i. boswell. [ ] let me here be allowed to pay my tribute of most sincere gratitude to the memory of that excellent person, my intimacy with whom was the more valuable to me, because my first acquaintance with him was unexpected and unsolicited. soon after the publication of my _account of corsica_, he did me the honour to call on me, and, approaching me with a frank courteous air, said, 'my name, sir, is oglethorpe, and i wish to be acquainted with you.' i was not a little flattered to be thus addressed by an eminent man, of whom i had read in pope, from my early years, 'or, driven by strong benevolence of soul, will fly, like oglethorpe, from pole to pole.' i was fortunate enough to be found worthy of his good opinion, insomuch, that i not only was invited to make one in the many respectable companies whom he entertained at his table, but had a cover at his hospitable board every day when i happened to be disengaged; and in his society i never failed to enjoy learned and animated conversation, seasoned with genuine sentiments of virtue and religion. boswell. see _ante_, i. , and ii. , note . the couplet from pope is from _imitations of horace_, _epist_. ii. . . [ ] 'hope springs eternal in the human breast: man never _is_, but always _to be_ blest.' _essay on man_, i. . [ ] 'the natural flights of the human mind are not from pleasure to pleasure, but from hope to hope.' _the rambler_, no. . see _post_, iii. , and june , . swift defined happiness as 'a perpetual possession of being well deceived.' _tale of a tub_, sect, ix., swift's _works_, ed. , iii. . [ ] see _post_, march , . [ ] the general seemed unwilling to enter upon it at this time; but upon a subsequent occasion he communicated to me a number of particulars, which i have committed to writing; but i was not sufficiently diligent in obtaining more from him, not apprehending that his friends were so soon to lose him; for, notwithstanding his great age, he was very healthy and vigorous, and was at last carried off by a violent fever, which is often fatal at any period of life. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'mediocribus esse poetis _non homines, non di_, non concessere columnae.' 'but god and man, and letter'd post denies that poets ever are of middling size.' francis, horace, _ars poet_. l. . [ ] why he failed to keep his journal may be guessed from his letter to temple:--'i am,' he wrote on april , 'indeed enjoying this metropolis to the full, according to my taste, except that i cannot, i see, have a plenary indulgence from you for asiatic multiplicity. be not afraid of me, except when i take too much claret; and then indeed there is a _furor brevis_ as dangerous as anger.... i have rather had too much dissipation since i came last to town. i try to keep a journal, and shall show you that i have done tolerably: but it is hardly credible what ground i go over, and what a variety of men and manners i contemplate in a day; and all the time i myself am _pars magna_, for my exuberant spirits will not let me listen enough.' _letters of boswell_, pp. - . [ ] johnson, in _the rambler_, no. , published on easter eve, , thus justifies fasting:--'austerity is the proper antidote to indulgence; the diseases of mind as well as body are cured by contraries, and to contraries we should readily have recourse if we dreaded guilt as we dread pain.' [ ] from this too just observation there are some eminent exceptions, boswell. 'dr. johnson said:--"few bishops are now made for their learning. to be a bishop, a man must be learned in a learned age, factious in a factious age, but always of eminence."' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] lord shelburne wrote of him:--'he panted for the treasury, having a notion that the king and he understood it from what they had read about revenue and funds while they were at kew.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . [ ] chief justice pratt (afterwards lord camden) became popular by his conduct as a judge in wilkes's case. in he received the freedom of the guild of merchants in dublin in a gold box, and from exeter the freedom of the city. the city of london gave him its freedom in a gold box, and had his portrait painted by reynolds. _gent. mag_. , pp. , , . see _ante_, p. . [ ] the king, on march , , recommended this measure to parliament. _parl. hist_. xv. . 'this,' writes horace walpole, 'was one of lord bute's strokes of pedantry. the tenure of the judges had formerly been a popular topic; and had been secured, as far as was necessary. he thought this trifling addition would be popular now, when nobody thought or cared about it.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] the money arising from the property of the prizes taken before the declaration of war, which were given to his majesty by the peace of paris, and amounted to upwards of £ , , and from the lands in the ceded islands, which were estimated at £ , more. surely there was a noble munificence in this gift from a monarch to his people. and let it be remembered, that during the earl of bute's administration, the king was graciously pleased to give up the hereditary revenues of the crown, and to accept, instead of them, of the limited sum of £ , a year; upon which blackstone observes, that 'the hereditary revenues, being put under the same management as the other branches of the publick patrimony, will produce more, and be better collected than heretofore; and the publick is a gainer of upwards of £ , _per annum_ by this disinterested bounty of his majesty.' book i. chap. viii. p. . boswell. lord bolingbroke (_works_, iii. ), about the year , pointed out that 'if the funds appropriated produce the double of that immense revenue of £ , a year, which hath been so liberally given the king for life, the whole is his without account; but if they fail in any degree to produce it, the entire national fund is engaged to make up the difference.' blackstone (edit, of , i. ) says:--'£ , being found insufficient, was increased in to, £ , .' he adds, 'the public is still a gainer of near £ , .' [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] lord eldon says that dundas, 'in broken phrases,' asked the king to confer a baronetcy on 'an eminent scotch apothecary who had got from scotland the degree of m. d. the king said:--"what, what, is that all? it shall be done. i was afraid you meant to ask me to make the scotch apothecary a physician--that's more difficult."' he added:--'they may make as many scotch apothecaries baronets as they please, but i shall die by the college.' twiss's _eldon_, ii. . a dr. duncan, says mr. croker, was appointed physician to the king in . croker's _boswell_, p. . a doctor of the same name, and no doubt the same man, was made a baronet in aug. . jesse's _selwyn_, i. . [ ] wedderburne, afterwards lord chancellor loughborough, and earl of rosslyn. one of his 'errands' had been to bring johnson bills in payment of his first quarter's pension. _ante_, i. . [ ] home, the author of _douglas_. boswell says that 'home showed the lord chief baron orde a pair of pumps he had on, and desired his lordship to observe how well they were made, telling him at the same time that they had been made for lord bute, but were rather too little for him, so his lordship had made john a present of them. "i think," said the lord chief baron, "you have taken the measure of lord bute's foot."' _boswelliana_, p. . dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ), writes:--'with robertson and home in london i passed the time very agreeably; for though home was now [ ] entirely at the command of lord bute, whose nod made him break every engagement--for it was not given above an hour or two before dinner--yet, as he was sometimes at liberty when the noble lord was to dine abroad, like a horse loosened from his stake, he was more sportful than usual.' [ ] lord north was merely the king's agent. the king was really his own minister at this time, though he had no seat in his own cabinet councils. [ ] only thirty-four years earlier, on the motion in the lords for the removal of walpole, the duke of argyle said:--'if my father or brother took upon him the office of a sole minister, i would oppose it as inconsistent with the constitution, as a high crime and misdemeanour. i appeal to your consciences whether he [walpole] hath not done this... he hath turned out men lately for differing with him.' lord chancellor hardwicke replied:--'a sole minister is so illegal an office that it is none. yet a noble lord says, _superior respondeat_, which is laying down a rule for a prime minister; whereas the noble duke was against any.' _the secker ms. parl. hist_. xi. - . in the protest against the rejection of the motion it was stated:--'we are persuaded that a sole, or even a first minister, is an officer unknown to the law of britain,' &c. _ib_ p. . johnson reports the chancellor as saying:--'it has not been yet pretended that he assumes the title of _prime minister_, or, indeed, that it is applied to him by any but his enemies ... the first minister can, in my opinion, be nothing more than a formidable illusion, which, when one man thinks he has seen it, he shows to another, as easily frighted as himself,' &c. johnson's _works_, x. - . in his _dictionary_, _premier_ is only given as an adjective, and _prime minister_ is not given at all. when the marquis of rockingham was forming his cabinet in march , burke wrote to him:--'stand firm on your ground--but _one_ ministry. i trust and hope that your lordship will not let _one_, even but _one_ branch of the state ... out of your own hands; or those which you can entirely rely on.' burke's _corres_. ii. . see also _post_, iii. , april , , jan. , , and april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'as he liberally confessed that all his own disappointments proceeded from himself, he hated to hear others complain of general injustice.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see _post_, end of may, , and march , . [ ] 'boswell and i went to church, but came very late. we then took tea, by boswell's desire; and i eat one bun, i think, that i might not seem to fast ostentatiously.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] the following passages shew that the thought, or something like it, was not new to johnson:--'bruyère declares that we are come into the world too late to produce anything new, that nature and life are preoccupied, and that description and sentiment have been long exhausted.' _the rambler_, no. . 'some advantage the ancients might gain merely by priority, which put them in possession of the most natural sentiments, and left us nothing but servile repetition or forced conceits.' _ib_ no. . 'my earlier predecessors had the whole field of life before them, untrodden and unsurveyed; characters of every kind shot up in their way, and those of the most luxuriant growth, or most conspicuous colours, were naturally cropt by the first sickle. they that follow are forced to peep into neglected corners.' _the idler_, no. . 'the first writers took possession of the most striking objects for description, and the most probable occurrences for fiction.' _rasselas_, ch. x. some years later he wrote:--'whatever can happen to man has happened so often that little remains for fancy or invention.' _works_, vii. . see also _the rambler_, no. . in _the adventurer_, no. , he wrote:--'the complaint that all topicks are preoccupied is nothing more than the murmur of ignorance or idleness.' see _post_, under aug. , . dr. warton (_essay on pope_, i. ) says that 'st. jerome relates that donatus, explaining that passage in terence, _nihil est dictum quod non sit dictum prius_, railed at the ancients for taking from him his best thoughts. _pereant qui ante nos nostra dixerunt_.' [ ] warburton, in the dedication of his _divine legation_ to the free-thinkers (vol. i. p. ii), says:--'nothing, i believe, strikes the serious observer with more surprize, in this age of novelties, than that strange propensity to infidelity, so visible in men of almost every condition: amongst whom the advocates of deism are received with all the applauses due to the inventers of the arts of life, or the deliverers of oppressed and injured nations.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , johnson writes of 'that interchange of thoughts which is practised in free and easy conversation, where suspicion is banished by experience, and emulation by benevolence; where every man speaks with no other restraint than unwillingness to offend, and hears with no other disposition than desire to be pleased.' in _the idler_, no. , he says 'that companion will be oftenest welcome whose talk flows out with inoffensive copiousness and unenvied insipidity.' he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'such tattle as filled your last sweet letter prevents one great inconvenience of absence, that of returning home a stranger and an inquirer. the variations of life consist of little things. important innovations are soon heard, and easily understood. men that meet to talk of physicks or metaphysicks, or law or history, may be immediately acquainted. we look at each other in silence, only for want of petty talk upon slight occurrences.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] this line is not, as appears, a quotation, but an abstract of p. of _pr. and med_. [ ] this is a proverbial sentence. 'hell,' says herbert, 'is full of good meanings and wishings.' _jacula prudentum_, p. , edit . malone. [ ] boswell wrote to temple:--'i have only to tell you, as my divine, that i yesterday received the holy sacrament in st. paul's church, and was exalted in piety.' it was in the same letter that he mentioned 'asiatic multiplicity' (_ante_ p. , note ). _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] 'nil admirari, prope res est una, numici, solaque, quae possit facere et servare beatum' horace, _epis_. i. . . 'not to admire is all the art i know, to make men happy and keep them so' pope's _imitations_, adapted from creech. [ ] 'we live by admiration, hope, and love; and even as these are well and wisely fixed, in dignity of being we ascend.' wordsworth's _works_, ed. , vi. . [ ] 'amoret's as sweet and good, as the most delicious food; which but tasted does impart life and gladness to the heart. sacharissa's beauty's wine, which to madness does incline; such a liquor as no brain that is mortal can sustain.' waller's _epistles_, xii. boswell. [ ] not that he would have wished boswell 'to talk from books.' 'you and i,' he once said to him, 'do not talk from books.' boswell's _hebrides_, nov. , . see _post_, iii, , note , for boswell's want of learning. [ ] see _post_, under march , . [ ] yet he sat to miss reynolds, as he tells us, perhaps ten times (_post_, under june , ), and 'miss reynolds's mind,' he said, 'was very near to purity itself.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . eight years later barry, in his _analysis_ (_post_, may, , note), said:--'our females are totally, shamefully, and cruelly neglected in the appropriation of trades and employments.' barry's _works_, ii. . [ ] the four most likely to be mentioned would be, i think, beauclerk, garrick, langton, and reynolds. on p. , boswell mentions beauclerk's 'acid manner.' [ ] in his _dictionary_, johnson defines _muddy_ as _cloudy in mind, dull_; and quotes _the winter's tale_, act i. sc. . wesley (_journal_, ii. ) writes:--'honest, _muddy_ m. b. conducted me to his house.' johnson (_post_, march , ), after telling how an acquaintance of his drank, adds, 'not that he gets drunk, for he is a very pious man, but he is always _muddy_.' it seems at first sight unlikely that he called reynolds _muddy_; yet three months earlier he had written:--'reynolds has taken too much to strong liquor.' _ante_, p. , note . [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , johnson defines good-humour as 'a habit of being pleased; a constant and perennial softness of manner, easiness of approach, and suavity of disposition.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'it is with their learning as with provisions in a besieged town, every one has a mouthful, and no one a bellyful.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] 'men bred in the universities of scotland cannot be expected to be often decorated with the splendours of ornamental erudition, but they obtain a mediocrity of knowledge between learning and ignorance, not inadequate to the purposes of common life, which is, i believe, very widely diffused among them.' johnson's _works_, ix. . lord shelburne said that the earl of bute had 'a great deal of superficial knowledge, such as is commonly to be met with in france and scotland, chiefly upon matters of natural philosophy, mines, fossils, a smattering of mechanics, a little metaphysics, and a very false taste in everything.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. . 'a gentleman who had heard that bentley was born in the north, said to porson: "wasn't he a scotchman?" "no, sir," replied porson, "bentley was a great greek scholar."' rogers's _table talk_, p. . [ ] walton did not retire from business till . but in , dr. king, bishop of chichester, in a letter prefixed to his _lives_, mentions his having been familiarly acquainted with him for forty years; and in he was so intimate with dr. donne that he was one of the friends who attended him on his death-bed. j. boswell, jun. his first wife's uncle was george cranmer, the grandson of the archbishop's brother. his second wife was half-sister of bishop ken. [ ] johnson himself, as boswell tells us, 'was somewhat susceptible of flattery.' _post_, end of . [ ] the first time he dined with me, he was shewn into my book-room, and instantly poured over the lettering of each volume within his reach. my collection of books is very miscellaneous, and i feared there might be some among them that he would not like. but seeing the number of volumes very considerable, he said, 'you are an honest man, to have formed so great an accumulation of knowledge.' burney. miss burney describes this visit (_memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. ):--'everybody rose to do him honour; and he returned the attention with the most formal courtesie. my father whispered to him that music was going forward, which he would not, my father thinks, have found out; and, placing him on the best seat vacant, told his daughters to go on with the duet, while dr. johnson, intently rolling towards them one eye--for they say he does not see with the other--made a grave nod, and gave a dignified motion with one hand, in silent approvance of the proceeding.' he was next introduced to miss burney, but 'his attention was not to be drawn off two minutes longer from the books, to which he now strided his way. he pored over them shelf by shelf, almost brushing them with his eye-lashes from near examination. at last, fixing upon something that happened to hit his fancy, he took it down, and standing aloof from the company, which he seemed clean and clear to forget, he began very composedly to read to himself, and as intently as if he had been alone in his own study. we were all excessively provoked, for we were languishing, fretting, expiring to hear him talk.' dr. burney, taking up something that mrs. thrale had said, ventured to ask him about bach's concert. 'the doctor, comprehending his drift, good-naturedly put away his book, and see-sawing with a very humorous smile, drolly repeated, "bach, sir? bach's concert? and pray, sir, who is bach? is he a piper?"' [ ] reynolds, noting down 'such qualities as johnson's works cannot convey,' says that 'the most distinguished was his possessing a mind which was, as i may say, always ready for use. most general subjects had undoubtedly been already discussed in the course of a studious thinking life. in this respect few men ever came better prepared into whatever company chance might throw him; and the love which he had to society gave him a facility in the practice of applying his knowledge of the matter in hand, in which i believe he was never exceeded by any man.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'our silly things called histories,' wrote burke (_corres_, i. ). 'the duke of richmond, fox, and burke,' said rogers (_table-talk_, p. ), 'were conversing about history, philosophy, and poetry. the duke said, "i prefer history to philosophy or poetry, because history is _truth_." both fox and burke disagreed with him: they thought that poetry was _truth_, being a representation of human nature.' lord bolingbroke had said (_works_, iii. ) that the child 'in riper years applies himself to history, or to that which he takes for history, to authorised romance.' [ ] mr. plunket made a great sensation in the house of commons (feb. , ) by saying that history, if not judiciously read, 'was no better than an old almanack'--which mercier had already said in his _nouveau tableau de paris_--'malet du pan's and such like histories of the revolution are no better than an old almanack.' boswell, we see, had anticipated both. croker. [ ] it was at rome on oct. , , says gibbon in a famous passage, 'that the idea of writing the decline and fall of the city first started to my mind.' it was not till towards the end of that he 'undertook the composition of the first volume.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. , - . [ ] see p. . boswell. gibbon, when with johnson, perhaps felt that timidity which kept him silent in parliament. 'i was not armed by nature and education,' he writes, 'with the intrepid energy of mind and voice _vincentem strepitus, et natum rebus agendis_. timidity was fortified by pride, and even the success of my pen discouraged the trial of my voice.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . some years before he entered parliament, he said that his genius was 'better qualified for the deliberate compositions of the closet, than for the extemporary discourses of the parliament. an unexpected objection would disconcert me; and as i am incapable of explaining to others what i do not thoroughly understand myself, i should be meditating while i ought to be answering.' _ib_ ii. . [ ] a very eminent physician, whose discernment is as acute and penetrating in judging of the human character as it is in his own profession, remarked once at a club where i was, that a lively young man, fond of pleasure, and without money, would hardly resist a solicitation from his mistress to go upon the highway, immediately after being present at the representation of _the beggar's opera_. i have been told of an ingenious observation by mr. gibbon, that '_the beggar's opera_ may, perhaps, have sometimes increased the number of highwaymen; but that it has had a beneficial effect in refining that class of men, making them less ferocious, more polite, in short, more like gentlemen.' upon this mr. courtenay said, that 'gay was the orpheus of highwaymen.' boswell. [ ] 'the play like many others was plainly written only to divert without any moral purpose, and is therefore not likely to do good; nor can it be conceived without more speculation than life requires or admits to be productive of much evil. highwaymen and house-breakers seldom frequent the play-house, or mingle in any elegant diversion; nor is it possible for any one to imagine that he may rob with safety, because he sees macheath reprieved upon the stage.' _works_, viii. . [ ] 'the worthy queensb'ry yet laments his gay.' _the seasons_. summer, l. . pope (_prologue to the satires_, l. ) says:-- 'of all thy blameless life the sole return my verse, and queensb'ry weeping o'er thy urn.' johnson (_works_, viii. ) mentions 'the affectionate attention of the duke and duchess of queensberry, into whose house he was taken, and with whom he passed the remaining part of his life.' smollett, in _humphry clinker_, in the letters of sept. and , speaks of the duke as 'one of the best men that ever breathed,' 'one of those few noblemen whose goodness of heart does honour to human nature.' he died in . [ ] this song is the twelfth air in act i. [ ] 'in several parts of tragedy,' writes tom davies, 'walker's look, deportment, and action gave a _distinguished glare to tyrannic rage_.' davies's _garrick_, i. . [ ] pope said of himself and swift:--'neither of us thought it would succeed. we shewed it to congreve, who said it would either take greatly or be damned confoundedly. we were all at the first night of it in great uncertainty of the event, till we were very much encouraged by overhearing the duke of argyle say, "it will do--it must do! i see it in the eyes of them!" this was a good while before the first act was over, and so gave us ease soon: for that duke has a more particular knack than any one now living in discovering the taste of the publick. he was quite right in this, as usual: the good-nature of the audience appeared stronger and stronger every act, and ended in a clamour of applause.' spence's _anec_. p. . see _the dundad_, iii. , and _post_, april , . [ ] r. b. sheridan married miss linley in . [ ] his wife had £ , settled on her with delicate generosity by a gentleman to whom she had been engaged. moore's _sheridan_, i. . [ ] 'those who had felt the mischief of discord and the tyranny of usurpation read _hudibras_ with rapture, for every line brought back to memory something known, and gratified resentment by the just censure of something hated. but the book, which was once quoted by princes, and which supplied conversation to all the assemblies of the gay and witty, is now seldom mentioned, and even by those that affect to mention it, is seldom read.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] in his _life of addison_, johnson says (_works_, vii. ):--'the reason which induced cervantes to bring his hero to the grave, _para mi solo nacio don quixote y yo para el_ [for me alone was don quixote born, and i for him], made addison declare, with undue vehemence of expression, that he would kill sir roger; being of opinion that they were born for one another, and that any other hand would do him wrong.' [ ] 'it may be doubted whether addison ever filled up his original delineation. he describes his knight as having his imagination somewhat warped; but of this perversion he has made very little use.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'the papers left in the closet of pieresc supplied his heirs with a whole winter's fuel.' _the idler_, no. . 'a chamber in his house was filled with letters from the most eminent scholars of the age. the learned in europe had addressed pieresc in their difficulties, who was hence called "the attorney-general of the republic of letters." the niggardly niece, though entreated to permit them to be published, preferred to use these learned epistles occasionally to light her fires.' d'israeli's _curiosities of literature_, i. . [ ] boswell was accompanied by paoli. to justify his visit to london, he said:--'i think it is also for my interest, as in time i may get something. lord pembroke was very obliging to me when he was in scotland, and has corresponded with me since. i have hopes from him.' _letters of boswell_, pp. , , and _post_, iii. , note . horace walpole described lord pembroke in as 'a young profligate.' _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] page . boswell. [ ] page . boswell. [ ] in justice to dr. memis, though i was against him as an advocate, i must mention, that he objected to the variation very earnestly, before the translation was printed off. boswell. [ ] mr. croker quotes _the world_ of june , , where a londoner, 'to gratify the curiosity of a country friend, accompanied him in easter week to bedlam. to my great surprise,' he writes, 'i found a hundred people, at least, who, having paid their twopence apiece, were suffered unattended to run rioting up and down the wards making sport of the miserable inhabitants. i saw them in a loud laugh of triumph at the ravings they had occasioned.' young (_universal passion_, sat. v.) describes britannia's daughters 'as unreserved and beauteous as the sun, through every sign of vanity they run; assemblies, parks, coarse feasts in city halls, lectures and trials, plays, committees, balls; wells, _bedlams_, executions, smithfield scenes, and fortune-tellers' caves, and lions' dens.' in , william hutton walked from nottingham to london, passed three days there in looking about, and returned on foot. the whole journey cost him ten shillings and eight-pence. he says:--'i wished to see a number of curiosities, but my shallow pocket forbade. _one penny to see bedlam was all i could spare_.' hutton's _life_, pp. , . richardson (_familiar letters_, no. ) makes a young lady describe her visit to bedlam:--'the distempered fancies of the miserable patients most unaccountably provoked mirth and loud laughter; nay, so shamefully inhuman were some, among whom (i am sorry to say it) were several of my own sex, as to endeavour to provoke the patients into rage to make them sport.' [ ] in the _life of dryden_ (_works_, vii. ), johnson writes:--'virgil would have been too hasty if he had condemned him [statius] _to straw_ for one sounding line.' in _humphry clinker_ (letter of june ), mr. bramble says to clinker:--'the sooner you lose your senses entirely the better for yourself and the community. in that case, some charitable person might provide you with a dark room and clean straw in bedlam.' churchill, in _independence_ (poems, ii. ), writes:-- 'to bethlem with him--give him whips and straw, i'm very sensible he's mad in law.' [ ] my very honourable friend general sir george howard, who served in the duke of cumberland's army, has assured me that the cruelties were not imputable to his royal highness. boswell. horace walpole shews the duke's cruelty to his own soldiers. 'in the late rebellion some recruits had been raised under a positive engagement of dismission at the end of three years. when the term was expired they thought themselves at liberty, and some of them quitted the corps. the duke ordered them to be tried as deserters, and not having received a legal discharge, they were condemned. nothing could mollify him; two were executed.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, ii. . [ ] it has been suggested that this is dr. percy (see _post_, april , ), but percy was more than 'an acquaintance of ours,' he was a friend. [ ] very likely mr. steevens. see _post_, april , , and may , . [ ] on this day johnson wrote to mrs. thrale:--'boswell has made me promise not to go to oxford till he leaves london; i had no great reason for haste, and therefore might as well gratify a friend. i am always proud and pleased to have my company desired. boswell would have thought my absence a loss, and i know not who else would have considered my presence as profit. he has entered himself at the temple, and i joined in his bond. he is to plead before the lords, and hopes very nearly to gain the cost of his journey. he lives much with his friend paoli.' _piozzi letters_, i. . boswell wrote to temple on june :--'for the last fortnight that i was in london i lay at paoli's house, and had the command of his coach.... i felt more dignity when i had several servants at my devotion, a large apartment, and the convenience and state of a coach. i recollected that _this dignity in london_ was honourably acquired by my travels abroad, and my pen after i came home, so i could enjoy it with my own approbation.' _letters of boswell_, p. . a year later he records, that henceforth, while in london, he was paoli's constant guest till he had a house of his own there (_post_, iii. ). [ ] lord stowell told mr. croker that, among the scottish _literati_, mr. crosbie was the only man who was disposed to _stand up_ (as the phrase is) to johnson. croker's _boswell_, p. . it is said that he was the original of mr. counsellor pleydell in scott's novel of _guy mannering_. dr. a. carlyle (_autobiography_, p. ) says of 'the famous club called the poker,' which was founded in edinburgh in :--'in a laughing humour, andrew crosbie was chosen assassin, in case any officer of that sort should be needed; but david hume was added as his assessor, without whose assent nothing should be done, so that between _plus_ and _minus_ there was likely to be no bloodshed.' see boswell's _herbrides_, aug. , . [ ] he left on the nd. 'boswell,' wrote johnson to mrs. thrale on may , 'went away at two this morning. he got two and forty guineas in fees while he was here. he has, by his wife's persuasion and mine, taken down a present for his mother-in-law.' [? step-mother, with whom he was always on bad terms; _post_, iii. , note .] _piozzi letters_, i. . boswell, the evening of the same day, wrote to temple from grantham:--'i have now eat (sic) a term's commons in the inner temple. you cannot imagine what satisfaction i had in the form and ceremony of the _hall_.... after breakfasting with paoli, and worshipping at st. paul's, i dined tête-à-tête with my charming mrs. stuart. we talked with unreserved freedom, as we had nothing to fear; we were _philosophical_, upon honour--not deep, but feeling; we were pious; we drank tea, and bid each other adieu as finely as romance paints. she is my wife's dearest friend; so you see how beautiful our intimacy is. i then went to mr. johnson's, and he accompanied me to dilly's, where we supped; and then he went with me to the inn in holborn, where the newcastle fly sets out; we were warmly affectionate. he is to buy for me a chest of books, of his choosing, off stalls, and i am to read more and drink less; that was his counsel.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] yet gilbert walmsley had called him in his youth 'a good scholar.' _garrick corres_. i. ; and boswell wrote to him:--'mr. johnson is ready to bruise any one who calls in question your classical knowledge, and your happy application of it.' _ib_ p. . [ ] 'those whose lot it is to ramble can seldom write, and those who know how to write very seldom ramble.' johnson to mrs. thrale. _piozzi letters_, i. . see _post_, april , . [ ] a letter from boswell to temple on this day helps to fill up the gap in his journal:--'it gives me acute pain that i have not written more to you since we parted last; but i have been like a skiff in the sea, driven about by a multiplicity of waves. i am now at mr. thrale's villa, at streatham, a delightful spot. dr. johnson is here too. i came yesterday to dinner, and this morning dr. johnson and i return to london, and i go with mr. beauclerk to see his elegant villa and library, worth £ , at muswell hill, and return and dine with him. i hope dr. johnson will dine with us. i am in that dissipated state of mind that i absolutely cannot write; i at least imagine so. but while i glow with gaiety, i feel friendship for you, nay, admiration of some of your qualities, as strong as you could wish. my excellent friend, let us ever cultivate that mutual regard which, as it has lasted till now, will, i trust, never fail. on saturday last i dined with john wilkes and his daughter, and nobody else, at the mansion-house; it was a most pleasant scene. i had that day breakfasted with dr. johnson. i drank tea with lord bute's daughter-in-law, and i supped with miss boswell. what variety! mr. johnson went with me to beauclerk's villa, beauclerk having been ill; it is delightful, just at highgate. he has one of the most numerous and splendid private libraries that i ever saw; green-houses, hot-houses, observatory, laboratory for chemical experiments, in short, everything princely. we dined with him at his box at the adelphi. i have promised to dr. johnson to read when i get to scotland, and to keep an account of what i read; i shall let you know how i go on. my mind must be nourished.' _letters of boswell_, pp. - . [ ] swift did not laugh. 'he had a countenance sour and severe, which he seldom softened by any appearance of gaiety. he stubbornly resisted any tendency to laughter.' johnson's _works_, viii. . neither did pope laugh. 'by no merriment, either of others or his own, was he ever seen excited to laughter.' _ib_ p. . lord chesterfield wrote (_letters_ i. ):--'how low and unbecoming a thing laughter is. i am sure that since i have had the full use of my reason nobody has ever heard me laugh.' mrs. piozzi records (_anec_. p. ) that 'dr. johnson used to say "that the size of a man's understanding might always be justly measured by his mirth;" and his own was never contemptible.' [ ] the day before he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'peyton and macbean [_ante_, i ] are both starving, and i cannot keep them.' _piozzi letters_, i. . on april , , he wrote:--'poor peyton expired this morning. he probably, during many years for which he sat starving by the bed of a wife, not only useless but almost motionless, condemned by poverty to personal attendance chained down to poverty--he probably thought often how lightly he should tread the path of life without his burthen. of this thought the admission was unavoidable, and the indulgence might be forgiven to frailty and distress. his wife died at last, and before she was buried he was seized by a fever, and is now going to the grave. such miscarriages when they happen to those on whom many eyes are fixed, fill histories and tragedies; and tears have been shed for the sufferings, and wonder excited by the fortitude of those who neither did nor suffered more than peyton.' _ib_ . baretti, in a marginal note on _piozzi letters_, i. , writes:--'peyton was a fool and a drunkard. i never saw so nauseous a fellow.' but baretti was a harsh judge. [ ] a learned greek. boswell. 'he was a nephew of the patriarch of constantinople, and had fled from some massacre of the greeks.' johnstone's _life of parr_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] wife of the rev. mr. kenneth macaulay, authour of _the history of st. kilda_. boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , . [ ] 'the elzevirs of glasgow,' as boswell called them. (_hebrides_, oct. .) [ ] see in boswell's _hebrides_, johnson's letter of may , . [ ] a law-suit carried on by sir allan maclean, chief of his clan, to recover certain parts of his family estates from the duke of argyle. boswell. [ ] a very learned minister in the isle of sky, whom both dr. johnson and i have mentioned with regard. boswell. boswell's _hebrides_, sept. , , and johnson's _works_, ix. . johnson in another passage, (_ib_. p. ), speaks of him as 'a very learned minister. he wished me to be deceived [as regards ossian] for the honour of his country; but would not directly and formally deceive me.' johnson told him this to his face. boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . his credulity is shewn by the belief he held, that the name of a place called ainnit in sky was the same as the _anaitidis delubrum_ in lydia. _ib_ sept. . [ ] this darkness is seen in his letters. he wrote 'june , . it required some philosophy to bear the change from england to scotland. the unpleasing tone, the rude familiarity, the barren conversation of those whom i found here, in comparison with what i had left, really hurt my feelings ... the general assembly is sitting, and i practise at its bar. there is _de facto_ something low and coarse in such employment, though on paper it is a court of _supreme judicature_; but guineas must be had ... do you know it requires more than ordinary spirit to do what i am to do this very morning: i am to go to the general assembly and arraign a judgement pronounced last year by dr. robertson, john home, and a good many more of them, and they are to appear on the other side. to speak well, when i despise both the cause and the judges, is difficult: but i believe i shall do wonderfully. i look forward with aversion to the little, dull labours of the court of sessions. you see, temple, i have my troubles as well as you have. my promise under the venerable yew has kept me sober.' _letters of boswell_, p. . on june , he is 'vexed to think myself a coarse labourer in an obscure corner.... mr. hume says there will in all probability be a change of the ministry soon, which he regrets. oh, temple, while they change so often, how does one feel an ambition to have a share in the great department! ... my father is most unhappily dissatisfied with me. he harps on my going over scotland with a brute (think how shockingly erroneous!) and wandering (or some such phrase) to london!' _ib_ p. . 'aug. . i have had a pretty severe return this summer of that melancholy, or hypochondria, which is inherent in my constitution.... while afflicted with melancholy, all the doubts which have ever disturbed thinking men come upon me. i awake in the night dreading annihilation, or being thrown into some horrible state of being.' he recounts a complimentary letter he had received from lord mayor wilkes, and continues:--'tell me, my dear temple, if a man who receives so many marks of more than ordinary consideration can be satisfied to drudge in an obscure corner, where the manners of the people are disagreeable to him.' _ib_ p. . [ ] he was absent from the end of may till some time in august. he wrote from oxford on june :--'don't suppose that i live here as we live at streatham. i went this morning to the chapel at _six_.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he was the guest of mr. coulson, a fellow of university college. on june , he wrote:--'such is the uncertainty of all human things that mr. coulson has quarrelled with me. he says i raise the laugh upon him, and he is an independent man, and all he has is his own, and he is not used to such things.' _ib_ p. . an eye-witness told mr. croker that 'coulson was going out on a country living, and talking of it with the same pomp as to lord stowell.' [he had expressed to him his doubts whether, after living so long in the _great world_, he might not grow weary of the comparative retirement of a country parish. croker's _boswell_, p. .] johnson chose to imagine his becoming an archdeacon, and made himself merry at coulson's expense. at last they got to warm words, and johnson concluded the debate by exclaiming emphatically--'sir, having meant you no offence, i will make you no apology.' _ib_ p. . the quarrel was made up, for the next day he wrote:--'coulson and i are pretty well again.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] boswell wrote to temple on sept. :--'it is hardly credible how difficult it is for a man of my sensibility to support existence in the family where i now am. my father, whom i really both respect and affectionate (if that is a word, for it is a different feeling from that which is expressed by _love_, which i can say of you from my soul), is so different from me. we _divaricate_ so much, as dr. johnson said, that i am often hurt when, i dare say, he means no harm: and he has a method of treating me which makes me feel myself like a _timid boy_, which to _boswell_ (comprehending all that my character does in my own imagination and in that of a wonderful number of mankind) is intolerable. his wife too, whom in my conscience i cannot condemn for any capital bad quality, is so narrow-minded, and, i don't know how, so set upon keeping him under her own management, and so suspicious and so sourishly tempered that it requires the utmost exertion of practical philosophy to keep myself quiet. i however have done so all this week to admiration: nay, i have appeared good-humoured; but it has cost me drinking a considerable quantity of strong beer to dull my faculties.' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] voltaire wrote of hénault's _abrégé de l' histoire de la france_:--'il a été dans l'histoire ce que fontenelle a été dans la philosophie. il l'a rendue familière.' voltaire's _works_, xvii. . with a quotation from hénault, carlyle begins his _french revolution_. [ ] my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, which that lady read in the original manuscript. boswell. johnson wrote to mrs. thrale, 'may , :--i am not sorry that you read boswell's _journal_. is it not a merry piece? there is much in it about poor me.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'june , . you never told me, and i omitted to inquire, how you were entertained by boswell's _journal_. _one would think the man had been hired to be a spy upon me_. he was very diligent, and caught opportunities of writing from time to time.' _ib_ p. . i suspect that the words i have marked by italics are not johnson's, but are mrs. piozzi's interpolation. [ ] 'in my heart of _heart_.' _hamlet_, act iii. sc. . [ ] another parcel of lord hailes's _annals of scotland_. boswell. [ ] where sir joshua reynolds lived. boswell. [ ] johnson's birthday. in _pr. and med_. p. , is a prayer which was, he writes, 'composed at calais in a sleepless night, and used before the morn at nôtre dame.' [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'while johnson was in france, he was generally very resolute in speaking latin.' _post_, under nov. , . [ ] miss thrale. boswell. [ ] in his _journal_ he records 'their meals are gross' (_post_, oct. ). we may doubt therefore mrs. piozzi's statement that he said of the french: 'they have few sentiments, but they express them neatly; they have little in meat too, but they dress it well.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] boswell wrote to temple:--'you know, my dearest friend, of what importance this is to me; of what importance it is to the family of auchinleck, _which you may be well convinced is my supreme object in this world_.' _letters of boswell_, p. . alexander boswell was killed in a duel in . [ ] this alludes to my old feudal principle of preferring male to female succession. boswell. see _post_, under jan. , . [ ] he wrote to dr. taylor on the same day:--'i came back last tuesday from france. is not mine a kind of life turned upside down? fixed to a spot when i was young, and roving the world when others are contriving to sit still, i am wholly unsettled. i am a kind of ship with a wide sail, and without an anchor.' _notes and queries_. th s., v. . [ ] there can be no doubt that many years previous to he corresponded with this lady, who was his step-daughter, but none of his earlier letters to her have been preserved. boswell. many of these earlier letters were printed by malone and croker in later editions. see i. . [ ] when on their way to wales, july , , _post_, vol. v. [ ] smollett wrote (_travels_, i. ):--'notwithstanding the gay disposition of the french, their houses are all gloomy. after all it is in england only where we must look for cheerful apartments, gay furniture, neatness, and convenience.' [ ] son of mrs. johnson, by her first husband. boswell. [ ] 'a gentleman said, "surely that vanessa must be an extraordinary woman, that could inspire the dean to write so finely upon her." mrs. johnson [stella] smiled, and answered "that she thought that point not quite so clear; for it was well known the dean could write finely upon a broomstick."' johnson's works, viii. . [ ] horace walpole wrote from paris this autumn:--'i have not yet had time to visit the hotel du chatelet.' _letters_, vi. . on july st, , writing of the violence of the mob, he says:--'the hotel of the due de chatelet, lately built and superb, has been assaulted, and the furniture sold by auction.' _ib_ ix. . [ ] see _post_, under nov. , , note, and june , . [ ] the prior of the convent of the benedictines where johnson had a cell appropriated to him. _post_, oct. , and under nov. . [ ] the rest of this paragraph appears to be a minute of what was told by captain irwin. boswell. [ ] melchior canus, a celebrated spanish dominican, who died at toledo, in . he wrote a treatise _de locis theologicis_, in twelve books. boswell. [ ] d'argenson's. croker. [ ] see macaulay's _essays_, i. , and mr. croker's answer in his note on this passage. his notion that 'this book was exhibited purposely on the lady's table, in the expectation that her english visitors would think it a literary curiosity,' seems absurd. he does not choose to remember the '_bibl. des fées_ and other books.' since i wrote this note mr. napier has published an edition of boswell, in which this question is carefully examined (ii. ). he sides with macaulay. [ ] 'si quelque invention peut suppléer à la connaissance qui nous est refusée des longitudes sur la mer, c'est celle du plus habile horloger de france (m. leroi) qui dispute cette invention à l'angleterre.' voltaire, _siècle de louis xv_, ch. . [ ] the _palais marchand_ was properly only the stalls which were placed along some of the galleries of the palais. they have been all swept away in louis philippe's restoration of the palais. croker. [ ] 'petit siège de bois sur lequel on faisait asseoir, pour les interroger, ceux qui étaient accusés d'un délit pouvant faire encourir une peine afflictive.' littr�. [ ] the conciergerie, before long to be crowded with the victims of the revolution. [ ] this passage, which so many think superstitious, reminds me of archbishop laud's diary. boswell. laud, for instance, on oct. , , records:--'in my upper study hung my picture taken by the life; and coming in, i found it fallen down upon the face, and lying on the floor, the string being broken by which it was hanged against the wall. i am almost every day threatened with my ruin in parliament. god grant this be no omen.' perhaps there was nothing superstitious in johnson's entry. he may have felt ill in mind or body, and dreaded to become worse. [ ] for a brief account of fréron, father and son, see carlyle's _french revolution_, part ii. bk. . ch. . [ ] a round table, the centre of which descended by machinery to a lower floor, so that supper might be served without the presence of servants. it was invented by lewis xv. during the favour of madame du barri. croker. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] before the revolution the passage from the garden of the tuileries into the place louis xv. was over a _pont tournant_. croker. [ ] the niece of arabella fermor, the belinda of the _rape of the lock_. johnson thus mentions this lady (_works_, viii. ):--'at paris, a few years ago, a niece of mrs. fermor, who presided in an english convent, mentioned pope's works with very little gratitude, rather as an insult than an honour.' she is no doubt the lady abbess mentioned _post_, march , . she told mrs. piozzi in 'that she believed there was but little comfort to be found in a house that harboured poets; for that she remembered mr. pope's praise made her aunt very troublesome and conceited, while his numberless caprices would have employed ten servants to wait on him.' piozzi's _journey_, i. . [ ] mrs. thrale wrote, on sept. , :--'when mr. thrale dismisses me, i am to take refuge among the austin nuns, and study virgil with dear miss canning.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] _pensionnaires_, pupils who boarded in the convent. [ ] he brought back a snuff-box for miss porter. _ante_, p. . [ ] livres = £ s. d. [ ] torture-chamber. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'au parlement de paris la chambre chargée des affaires criminelles.' littr�. [ ] the grandson was the duke d'enghien who was put to death by napoleon bonaparte in . [ ] his tender affection for his departed wife, of which there are many evidences in his _prayers and meditations_, appears very feelingly in this passage. boswell. 'on many occasions i think what she [his wife] would have said or done. when i saw the sea at brighthelmstone, i wished for her to have seen it with me.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] dr. moore (_travels in france_, i. ) says that in paris, 'those who cannot afford carriages skulk behind pillars, or run into shops, to avoid being crushed by the coaches, which are driven as near the wall as the coachman pleases.' only on the pont neuf, and the pont royal, and the quays between them were there, he adds, foot-ways. [ ] lewis xvi. [ ] the king's sister, who was guillotined in the reign of terror. [ ] see p. . boswell. [ ] 'when at versailles, the people showed us the theatre. as we stood on the stage looking at some machinery for playhouse purposes; "now we are here, what shall we act, mr. johnson:--_the englishman in paris_"? "no, no," replied he, "we will try to act _harry the fifth_."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . _the englishman in paris_ is a comedy by foote. [ ] this epithet should be applied to this animal, with one bunch. boswell. [ ] he who commanded the troops at the execution of lewis xvi. [ ] . [ ] i cannot learn of any book of this name. perhaps johnson saw _durandi rationale officiorum divinorum_, which was printed in , one year later than johnson mentions. a copy of this he had seen at blenheim in . his _journey into north wales_, sept. . [ ] he means, i suppose, that he read these different pieces while he remained in the library. boswell. [ ] johnson in his _dictionary_ defines _apartment_ as _a room; a set of rooms_. [ ] smollett (_travels_, i. ) writes of these temporary servants:--'you cannot conceive with what eagerness and dexterity these rascally valets exert themselves in pillaging strangers. there is always one ready in waiting on your arrival, who begins by assisting your own servant to unload your baggage, and interests himself in your own affairs with such artful officiousness that you will find it difficult to shake him off.' [ ] livres--francs we should now say. [ ] it was here that rousseau got rid of his children. 'je savais que l'éducation pour eux la moins perilleuse était celle des enfans trouvés; et je les y mis.' _les reveries, ix'me promenade_. [ ] dr. franklin, in , wrote:--'i am credibly informed that nine-tenths of them die there pretty soon.' _memoirs_, iii. . lord kames (_sketches of the history of man_, iii. ) says:--'the paris almanac for the year mentions that there were baptised , infants, of whom the foundling-hospital received .' [ ] st. germain des prés. better known as the prison of the abbaye. [ ] i have looked in vain into de bure, meerman, mattaire, and other typographical books, for the two editions of the _catholicon_, which dr. johnson mentions here, with _names_ which i cannot make out. i read 'one by _latinius_, one by _boedinus_.' i have deposited the original ms. in the british museum, where the curious may see it. my grateful acknowledgements are due to mr. planta for the trouble he was pleased to take in aiding my researches. boswell. a mr. planta is mentioned in mme. d'arblay's _diary_, v. . [ ] friar wilkes visited johnson in may . _piozzi letters_, i. . on sept. , , mrs. thrale wrote to johnson:--'i have got some news that will please you now. here is an agreeable friend come from paris, whom you were very fond of when we were there--the prior of our english benedictine convent, mr. cowley ... he inquires much for you; and says wilkes is very well, no. , as they call him in the convent. a cell is always kept ready for your use he tells me.' _ib_ p. . [ ] the writing is so bad here, that the names of several of the animals could not be decyphered without much more acquaintance with natural history than i possess.--dr. blagden, with his usual politeness, most obligingly examined the ms. to that gentleman, and to dr. gray, of the british museum, who also very readily assisted me, i beg leave to express my best thanks. boswell [ ] it is thus written by johnson, from the french pronunciation of _fossane_. it should be observed, that the person who shewed this menagerie was mistaken in supposing the _fossane_ and the brasilian weasel to be the same, the _fossane_ being a different animal, and a native of madagascar. i find them, however, upon one plate in pennant's _synopsis of quadrupeds_. boswell. [ ] how little johnson relished this talk is shewn by his letter to mrs. thrale of may , , and by her answer. he wrote:--'the exhibition, how will you do, either to see or not to see? the exhibition is eminently splendid. there is contour, and keeping, and grace, and expression, and all the varieties of artificial excellence.' _piozzi letters_, ii. iii. she answered:--'when did i ever plague about contour, and grace, and expression? i have dreaded them all three since that hapless day at compiegne when you teased me so.' _ib_ p. [ ] '_nef_, (old french from _nave_) _the body of a church_.' johnson's _dictionary_. [ ] my worthy and ingenious friend, mr. andrew lumisden, by his accurate acquaintance with france, enabled me to make out many proper names, which dr. johnson had written indistinctly, and sometimes spelt erroneously. boswell. lumisden is mentioned in boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] baretti, in a marginal note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says that 'johnson saw next to nothing of paris.' on p. he adds:--'he noticed the country so little that he scarcely spoke of it ever after.' he shews, however, his ignorance of johnson's doings by saying that 'in france he never touched a pen.' [ ] hume's reception in was very different. he wrote to adam smith:--'i have been three days at paris, and two at fontainebleau, and have everywhere met with the most extraordinary honours which the most exorbitant vanity could wish or desire.' the dauphin's three children, afterwards lewis xvi, lewis xviii, and charles x, had each to make a set speech of congratulation. he was the favourite of the most exclusive coteries. j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. , , . but at that date, sceptical philosophy was the rage. [ ] horace walpole wrote from paris in (_letters_, v. - ):--'the distress here is incredible, especially at court.... the middling and common people are not much richer than job when he had lost everything but his patience.' rousseau wrote of the french in :--'cette nation qui se prétend si gaie montre peu cette gaité dans ses jeux. souvent j'allais jadis aux guinguettes pour y voir danser le menu peuple; mais ses danses étaient si maussades, son maintien si dolent, si gauche, que j'en sortais plutot contristé que réjoui.' _les réveries, ixme. promenade_. baretti (_journey to genoa_, iv. ) denies that the french 'are entitled to the appellation of cheerful.' 'provence,' he says (_ib_. ), 'is the only province in which you see with some sort of frequency the rustic assemblies roused up to cheerfulness by the _fifre_ and the _tambourin_.' mrs. piozzi describes the absence of 'the happy middle state' abroad. 'as soon as dover is left behind, every man seems to belong to some other man, and no man to himself.' piozzi's _journey_, ii. . voltaire, in his review of _julia mandeville_ (_works_, xliii. ), says:--'pour peu qu'un roman, une tragédie, une comédie ait de succès a londres, on en fait trois et quatre éditions en peu de mois; c'est que l'état mitoyen est plus riche et plus instruit en angleterre qu'en france, &c.' but barry, the painter (_post_, may , ), in , described to burke, 'the crowds of busy contented people which cover (as one may say) the whole face of the country.' but he was an irishman comparing france with ireland. 'they make a strong, but melancholy contrast to a miserable ------ which i cannot help thinking of sometimes. you will not be at any loss to know that i mean ireland.' barry's _works_, i. . 'hume,' says dr. j. h. burton, 'in his _essay on the parties of great britain_ (published in ), alludes to the absence of a middle class in scotland, where he says, there are only "two ranks of men, gentlemen who have some fortune and education, and the meanest starving poor; without any considerable number of the middling rank of men, which abounds more in england, both in cities and in the country, than in any other quarter of the world."' _life of hume_, i. . i do not find this passage in the edition of hume's _essays_ of . [ ] yet smollett wrote in :--'all manner of butcher's meat and poultry are extremely good in paris. the beef is excellent.' he adds, 'i can by no means relish their cookery.' smollett's _travels_, i. . horace walpole, in , wrote from amiens on his way to paris:--'i am almost famished for want of clean victuals, and comfortable tea, and bread and butter.' _letters_, iv. . goldsmith, in , wrote from paris:--'as for the meat of this country i can scarce eat it, and though we pay two good shillings an head for our dinner, i find it all so tough, that i have spent less time with my knife than my pick-tooth.' forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] walpole calls paris 'the ugliest, beastliest town in the universe,' and describes the indelicacy of the talk of women of the first rank. _letters_, iv. . see _post_, may , , and under aug. , . [ ] madame du boccage, according to miss reynolds, whose authority was baretti. croker's _boswell_, p. . see _post_, june , . [ ] in edinburgh, johnson threw a glass of lemonade out of the window because the waiter had put the sugar into it 'with his greasy fingers.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] mrs. thrale wrote to johnson in :--'when we were in france we could form little judgement [of the spread of refinement], as our time was passed chiefly among english; yet i recollect that one fine lady, who entertained us very splendidly, put her mouth to the teapot, and blew in the spout when it did not pour freely.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] that he did not continue exactly as in london is stated by boswell himself. 'he was furnished with a paris-made wig of handsome construction,' (_post_, april , ). his _journal_ shews that he bought articles of dress (_ante_, p. ). hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that 'he yielded to the remonstrances of his friends so far as to dress in a suit of black and a bourgeois wig, but resisted their importunity to wear ruffles. by a note in his diary it appears that he laid out near thirty pounds in clothes for this journey.' a story told by foote we may believe as little as we please. 'foote is quite impartial,' said johnson, 'for he tells lies of everybody.' _post_, under march , . [ ] if johnson's latin was understood by foreigners in france, but not in england, the explanation may be found in his _life of milton_ (_works_, vii. ), where he says:--'he who travels, if he speaks latin, may so soon learn the sounds which every native gives it, that he need make no provision before his journey; and if strangers visit us, it is their business to practise such conformity to our modes as they expect from us in their own countries.' johnson was so sturdy an englishman that likely enough, as he was in london, he would not alter his pronunciation to suit his excellency's ear. in priestley's _works_, xxiii. , a conversation is reported in which dr. johnson argued for the italian method of pronouncing latin. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] as mme. de boufflers is mentioned in the next paragraph, boswell no doubt, wishes to shew that the letter was addressed to her. she was the mistress of the prince of conti. she understood english, and was the correspondent of hume. there was also a marquise de boufflers, mistress of old king stanislaus. [ ] in the _piozzi letters_ (i. ), this letter is dated may , ; in boswell's first and second editions, july , ; in the third edition, july , . in may, , johnson, so far as there is anything to shew, was in london. on july , both in and , he was in ashbourne. one of hume's letters (_private corres_., p. ), dated april , , shews that mme. de boufflers was at that time 'speaking of coming to england.' [ ] mme. de boufflers was in england in the summer of . jesse's _selwyn_, i. . [ ] boscovich, a learned jesuit, was born at ragusa in , and died in . he visited london in , and was elected a fellow of the royal society. chalmers's _biog. dict_. see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] four years later johnson thus spoke to miss burney of her father:--'"i love burney; my heart goes out to meet him." "he is not ungrateful, sir," cried i; "for most heartily does he love you." "does he, madam? i am surprised at that." "why, sir? why should you have doubted it?" "because, madam, dr. burney is a man for all the world to love: it is but natural to love him." i could have almost cried with delight at this cordial, unlaboured _éloge_.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'though a sepulchral inscription is professedly a panegyrick, and therefore not confined to historical impartiality, yet it ought always to be written with regard to truth. no man ought to be commended for virtues which he never possessed, but whoever is curious to know his faults must inquire after them in other places.' johnson's _works_, v. . see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, iii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] johnson's dick wormwood, in _the idler_, no. , a man 'whose sole delight is to find everything wrong, triumphs when he talks on the present system of education, and tells us with great vehemence that we are learning words when we should learn things.' in the _life of milton_ (_works_, vii, ), johnson writes:--'it is told that in the art of education milton performed wonders; and a formidable list is given of the authors, greek and latin, that were read in aldersgate-street, by youth between ten and fifteen or sixteen years of age. those who tell or receive these stories should consider, that nobody can be taught faster than he can learn. the speed of the horseman must be limited by the power of the horse.' he advised boswell 'not to _refine_ in the education of his children. you must do as other people do.' _post_, iii. . yet, in his _life of barretier_ (_works_, vi. ), he says:--'the first languages which he learnt were the french, german, and latin, which he was taught, not in the common way, by a multitude of definitions, rules, and exceptions, which fatigue the attention and burden the memory, without any use proportionate to the time which they require and the disgust which they create. the method by which he was instructed was easy and expeditious, and therefore pleasing. he learnt them all in the same manner, and almost at the same time, by conversing in them indifferently with his father.' [ ] miss aikin, better known as mrs. barbauld. johnson uses _presbyterian_ where we should use _unitarian_. 'the unitarians of the present day [ ] are the representatives of that branch of the early nonconformists who received the denomination of presbyterians; and they are still known by that name.' _penny cyclo_. xxvi. . [ ] othello, act ii. sc. . [ ] he quotes barbauld's _lessons for children_ (p. , ed. of ). mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), speaking of books for children says:--'mrs. barbauld had his best praise; no man was more struck than mr. johnson with voluntary descent from possible splendour to painful duty.' mrs. piozzi alludes to johnson's praise of dr. watts:--'every man acquainted with the common principles of human action, will look with veneration on the writer, who is at one time combating locke, and at another making a catechism for children in their fourth year. a voluntary descent from the dignity of science is perhaps the hardest lesson that humility can teach.' _works_, viii. . he praised milton also, who, when 'writing _paradise lost_, could condescend from his elevation to rescue children from the perplexity of grammatical confusion, and the trouble of lessons unnecessarily repeated.' _ib_ vii. . mrs. barbauld did what swift said gay had shown could be done. 'one may write things to a child without being childish.' swift's _works_, xvii. . in her _advertisement_, she says:--'the task is humble, but not mean; to plant the first idea in a human mind can be no dishonour to any hand.' 'ethicks, or morality,' wrote johnson, 'is one of the studies which ought to begin with the first glimpse of reason, and only end with life itself.' _works_, v. . this might have been the motto of her book. as the _advertisement_ was not published till (barbauld's _works_, ii. ) it is possible that johnson's criticism had reached her, and that it was meant as an answer. among her pupils were william taylor of norwich, sir william gell, and the first lord denman (_ib_. i. xxv-xxx). mrs. barbauld bore johnson no ill-will. in her _eighteen hundred and eleven_, she describes some future pilgrims 'from the blue mountains or ontario's lake,' coming to view 'london's faded glories.' 'with throbbing bosoms shall the wanderers tread the hallowed mansions of the silent dead, shall enter the long aisle and vaulted dome where genius and where valour find a home; bend at each antique shrine, and frequent turn to clasp with fond delight some sculptured urn, the ponderous mass of johnson's form to greet, or breathe the prayer at howard's sainted feet.' _ib_ i. . [ ] according to mme. d'arblay he said:--'sir, i shall be very glad to have a new sense _put into_ me.' he had been wont to speak slightingly of music and musicians. 'the first symptom that he showed of a tendency to conversion was upon hearing the following read aloud from the preface to dr. burney's _history of music_ while it was yet in manuscript:--"the love of lengthened tones and modulated sounds seems a passion implanted in human nature throughout the globe; as we hear of no people, however wild and savage in other particulars, who have not music of some kind or other, with which they seem greatly delighted." "sir," cried dr. johnson after a little pause, "this assertion i believe may be right." and then, see-sawing a minute or two on his chair, he forcibly added:--"all animated nature loves music--except myself!"' _dr. burney's memoirs_, ii. . hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that johnson said of music, '"it excites in my mind no ideas, and hinders me from contemplating my own." i have sometimes thought that music was positive pain to him. upon his hearing a celebrated performer go through a hard composition, and hearing it remarked that it was very difficult, he said, "i would it had been impossible."' yet he had once bought a flageolet, though he had never made out a tune. 'had i learnt to fiddle,' he said, 'i should have done nothing else' (_post_, april , , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , ). not six months before his death he asked dr. burney to teach him the scale of music (_ante_, p. , note ). that 'he appeared fond of the bagpipe, and used often to stand for some time with his ear close to the great drone' (boswell's _hebrides_, oct. ), does not tell for much either way. in his _hebrides_ (_works_, ix. ), he shews his pleasure in singing. 'after supper,' he writes, 'the ladies sung erse songs, to which i listened, as an english audience to an italian opera, delighted with the sound of words which i did not understand.' boswell records (_hebrides_, sept. ) that another day a lady 'pleased him much, by singing erse songs, and playing on the guitar.' johnson himself shews that if his ear was dull to music, it was by no means dead to sound. he thus describes a journey by night in the highlands (_works_, ix. ):--'the wind was loud, the rain was heavy, and the whistling of the blast, the fall of the shower, the rush of the cataracts, and the roar of the torrent, made a nobler chorus of the rough music of nature than it had ever been my chance to hear before.' in , when he was in his seventy-fourth year, he said, on hearing the music of a funeral procession:--'this is the first time that i have ever been affected by musical sounds.' _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_. [ ] miss burney, in , records that he said:--'david, madam, looks much older than he is; for his face has had double the business of any other man's; it is never at rest; when he speaks one minute, he has quite a different countenance to what he assumes the next; i don't believe he ever kept the same look for half-an-hour together in the whole course of his life; and such an eternal, restless, fatiguing play of the muscles must certainly wear out a man's face before its real time.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . malone fathers this witticism on foote. prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] on nov. of this year, a proposal was made to garrick by the proprietors of covent-garden theatre, 'that now in the time of dearth and sickness' they should open their theatres only five nights in each week. _garrick corres_, ii. . [ ] 'mrs. boswell no doubt had disliked his wish to pass over his daughters in entailing the auchinleck estate, in favour of heirs-male however remote. _post_, p. --johnson, on feb. , , opposing this intention, wrote:--'i hope i shall get some ground now with mrs. boswell.' [ ] joseph ritter, a bohemian, who was in my service many years, and attended dr. johnson and me in our tour to the hebrides. after having left me for some time, he had now returned to me. boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_ near the end. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. croker says that he was informed by boswell's grand-daughter, who died in , that it had come to be pronounced auchinleck. the rev. james chrystal, the minister of auchinleck, in answer to my inquiry, politely informs me that 'the name "affleck" is still quite common as applied to the parish, and even auchinleck house is as often called place affleck as otherwise.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] acts of parliament of scotland, , cap. . boswell. cockburn (_life of jeffrey_, i. ) mentions 'the statute ( and victoria, chap. ) which dissolves the iron fetters by which, for about years, nearly three-fourths of the whole land in scotland was made permanently unsaleable, and unattachable for debt, and every acre in the kingdom might be bound up, throughout all ages, in favour of any heirs, or any conditions, that the caprice of each unfettered owner might be pleased to proscribe.' [ ] as first, the opinion of some distinguished naturalists, that our species is transmitted through males only, the female being all along no more than a _nidus_, or nurse, as mother earth is to plants of every sort; which notion seems to be confirmed by that text of scripture, 'he was yet _in the loins of his_ father when melchisedeck met him' (heb. vii. ); and consequently, that a man's grandson by a daughter, instead of being his _surest_ descendant as is vulgarly said, has in reality no connection whatever with his blood. and secondly, independent of this theory, (which, if true, should completely exclude heirs general,) that if the preference of a male to a female, without regard to primogeniture, (as a son, though much younger, nay, even a grandson by a son, to a daughter,) be once admitted, as it universally is, it must be equally reasonable and proper in the most remote degree of descent from an original proprietor of an estate, as in the nearest; because,--however distant from the representative at the time,--that remote heir male, upon the failure of those nearer to the _original proprietor_ than he is, becomes in fact the nearest male to _him_, and is, therefore, preferable as _his_ representative, to a female descendant.--a little extension of mind will enable us easily to perceive that a son's son, in continuation to whatever length of time, is preferable to a son's daughter, in the succession to an ancient inheritance; in which regard should be had to the representation of the original proprietor, and not to that of one of his descendants. i am aware of blackstone's admirable demonstration of the reasonableness of the legal succession, upon the principle of there being the greatest probability that the nearest heir of the person who last dies proprietor of an estate, is of the blood of the first purchaser. but supposing a pedigree to be carefully authenticated through all its branches, instead of mere _probability_ there will be a _certainty_ that _the nearest heir male, at whatever period_, has the same right of blood with the first heir male, namely, _the original purchaser's eldest son_. boswell. [ ] boswell wrote to temple on sept. , :--'what a discouraging reflection is it that my father has in his possession a renunciation of my birthright, which i _madly_ granted to him, and which he has not the generosity to restore now that i am doing beyond his utmost hopes, and that he may incommode and disgrace me by some strange settlements, while all this time not a shilling is secured to my wife and children in case of my death!' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] the technical term in roman law for a building in good repair. [ ] which term i applied to all the heirs male. boswell. [ ] a misprint for . [ ] i had reminded him of his observation mentioned, ii. . boswell. [ ] the entail framed by my father with various judicious clauses, was settled by him and me, settling the estate upon the heirs male of his grandfather, which i found had been already done by my grandfather, imperfectly, but so as to be defeated only by selling the lands. i was freed by dr. johnson from scruples of conscientious obligation, and could, therefore, gratify my father. but my opinion and partiality of male succession, in its full extent, remained unshaken. yet let me not be thought harsh or unkind to daughters; for my notion is, that they should be treated with great affection and tenderness, and always participate of the prosperity of the family. boswell. [ ] temple, in _popular discontents_ (_works_, iii. - ), examines the general dissatisfaction with the judicature of the house of lords. till the end of elizabeth's reign, he states, the peers, who were few in number, were generally possessed of great estates which rendered them less subject to corruption. as one remedy for the evil existing in his time, he suggests that the crown shall create no baron, who shall not at the same time entail £ a year upon that honour, whilst it continues in his family; a viscount, £ ; an earl, £ ; a marquis, £ ; and a duke, £ . [ ] 'a cruel tyranny bathed in the blood of their emperors upon every succession; a heap of vassals and slaves; no nobles, no gentlemen, no freeman, no inheritance of land, no strip of ancient families, [nullæ stirpes antiquæ].' spedding _bacon_, vii. . [ ] 'let me warn you very earnestly against scruples,' he wrote on march , of this year:--'i am no friend to scruples,' he had said at st. andrew's. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . 'on his many, men miserable, but few men good.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] a letter to him on the interesting subject of the family settlement, which i had read. boswell. [ ] paoli had given boswell much the same advice. 'all this,' said paoli, 'is melancholy. i have also studied metaphysics. i know the arguments for fate and free-will, for the materiality and immateriality of the soul, and even the subtle arguments for and against the existence of matter. _ma lasciamo queste dispute ai oziosi_. but let us leave these disputes to the idle. _io tengo sempre fermo un gran pensiero_. i hold always firm one great object. i never feel a moment of despondency.' boswell's _corsica_, ed. , p. . see _post_, march , . [ ] johnson, in his letters to the thrales during the year , mentions this riding-school eight or nine times. the person recommended was named carter. gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) says 'the profit of the _history_ has been applied to the establishment of a riding-school, that the polite exercises might be taught, i know not with what success, in the university.' [ ] i suppose the complaint was, that the trustees of the oxford press did not allow the london booksellers a sufficient profit upon vending their publications. boswell. [ ] cadell published _the false alarm and the journey to the hebrides_. gibbon described him as 'that honest and liberal bookseller.' stewart's _life of robertson,_ p. . [ ] i am happy in giving this full and clear statement to the publick, to vindicate, by the authority of the greatest authour of his age, that respectable body of men, the booksellers of london, from vulgar reflections, as if their profits were exorbitant, when, in truth, dr. johnson has here allowed them more than they usually demand. [ ] 'behind the house was a garden which he took delight in watering; a room on the ground-floor was assigned to mrs. williams, and the whole of the two pair of stairs floor was made a repository for his books; one of the rooms thereon being his study. here, in the intervals of his residence at streatham, he received the visits of his friends, and to the most intimate of them sometimes gave not inelegant dinners.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . he wrote to mrs. thrale on aug. , :--'this is all that i have to tell you, except that i have three bunches of grapes on a vine in my garden: at least this is all that i will now tell of my garden.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . this house was burnt down in . _notes and queries_, st s., v. . [ ] he said, when in scotland, that he was _johnson of that ilk_. roswell. see _post_, april , , note. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see vol. i. p. . boswell. boswell refers to the work of dr. cohausen of coblentz, _hermippus redivivus_. dr. campbell translated it (_ante_, i. ), under the title of _hermippus redivivus, or the sage's triumph over old age and the grave_. cohausen maintained that life might be prolonged to years by breathing the breath of healthy young women. he founded his theory 'on a roman inscription--_aesculapio et sanitati l. colodius hermippus qui vixit annos cxv. dies v. puellarum anhelitu_.' he maintained that one of the most eligible conditions of life was that of a confessor of youthful nuns. _lowndes's bibl. man_. p. , and _gent. mag_. xiii. . i. d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , ii. ) describes campbell's book as a 'curious banter on the hermetic philosophy and the universal medicine; the grave irony is so closely kept up, that it deceived for a length of time the most learned. campbell assured a friend it was a mere _jeu-d'-esprit_.' lord e. fitzmaurice (_life of shelburne_, iii. ) says that ingenhousz, a dutch physician who lived with shelburne, combated in one of his works the notion held by certain schoolmasters, that 'it was wholesome to inhale the air which has passed through the lungs of their pupils, closing the windows in order purposely to facilitate that operation.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] the privilege of perpetuating in a family an estate and arms _indefeasibly_ from generation to generation, is enjoyed by none of his majesty's subjects except in scotland, where the legal fiction of _fine_ and _recovery_ is unknown. it is a privilege so proud, that i should think it would be proper to have the exercise of it dependent on the royal prerogative. it seems absurd to permit the power of perpetuating their representation, to men, who having had no eminent merit, have truly no name. the king, as the impartial father of his people, would never refuse to grant the privilege to those who deserved it. boswell. [ ] boswell wrote to temple about six weeks later:--'murphy says he has read thirty pages of smith's _wealth_, but says he shall read no more; smith, too, is now of our club. it has lost its select merit.' _letters of boswell_, p. . johnson can scarcely have read smith; if he did, it made no impression on him. his ignorance on many points as to what constitutes the wealth of a nation remained as deep as ever. [ ] mr. wedderburne. croker. [ ] a similar bill had been thrown out sixteen years earlier by to . 'a bill for a militia in scotland was not successful; nor could the disaffected there obtain this mode of having their arms restored. pitt had acquiesced; but the young whigs attacked it with all their force.' walpole's _reign of george ii_, iii. . lord mountstuart's bill was thrown out by to , the ministry being in the minority. the arguments for and against it are stated in the _ann. reg_. xix . see _post_, iii. i. henry mackenzie (_life of john home_, i. ) says:--'the poker club was instituted at a time when scotland was refused a militia, and thought herself affronted by the refusal. the name was chosen from a quaint sort of allusion to the principles it was meant to excite, as a club to stir up the fire and spirit of the country.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'scotland paid only one fortieth to the land-tax, the very specific tax out of which all the expenses of a militia were to be drawn.' _ann. reg_. xix. . [ ] in a new edition of this book, which was published in the following year, the editor states, that either 'through hurry or inattention some obscene jests had unluckily found a place in the first edition.' see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] the number of the asterisks, taken with the term _worthy friend_, renders it almost certain that langton was meant. the story might, however, have been told of reynolds, for he wrote of johnson:--'truth, whether in great or little matters, he held sacred. from the violation of truth, he said, in great things your character or your interest was affected; in lesser things, your pleasure is equally destroyed. i remember, on his relating some incident, i added something to his relation which i supposed might likewise have happened: "it would have been a better story," says he, "if it had been so; but it was not."' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . mrs. piozzi records (_anec_. p. ):--'"a story," says johnson, "is a specimen of human manners, and derives its sole value from its truth, when foote has told me something, i dismiss it from my mind like a passing shadow; when reynolds tells me something, i consider myself as possessed of an idea the more."' [ ] boswell felt this when, more than eight years earlier, he wrote:--'as i have related paoli's remarkable sayings, i declare upon honour that i have neither added nor diminished; nay, so scrupulous have i been, that i would not make the smallest variation, even when my friends thought it would be an improvement. i know with how much pleasure we read what is perfectly authentick.' boswell's _corsia_, ed. , p. . see _post_, iii. . [ ] in his _life of browne_ (_works_, vi. ) he sayd of 'innocent frauds':--'but no fraud is innocent; for the confidence which makes the happiness of society is in some degree diminished by every man whose practice is at variance with his words.' 'mr. tyers,' writes murphy (_life_, p. ), 'observed that dr. johnson always talked as if he was talking upon oath.' compared with johnson's strictness, rouseau's laxity is striking. after describing 'ces gens qu'on appelle vrais dans le monde,' he continues;--'l'homme que j'appele _vrai_ fait tout le contraire. en choses parfaitnement indifferentes la vérité qu'alors l'autre respecte si fort le touche fort peu, et il ne se fera guére de scrupule d'amuser une compagnie par des faits controuvé, dont il ne résulte aucun jugement injuste ni pour ni contre qui que ce soit vivant ou mort.' _les réveries: ivine promenade_. [ ] no doubt mrs. fermor (_ante_, p. .) [ ] no. . [ ] no. . [ ] but see _ante_, ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, april , . [ ] three weeks later, at his usual fast before easter, johnson recorded:--'i felt myself very much disordered by emptiness, and called for tea with peevish and impatient eagerness.' _pr. and med_. p. . [ ] of the use of spirituous liquors, he wrote (_works_, vi. ):--'the mischiefs arising on every side from this compendious mode of drunkenness are enormous and insupportable, equally to be found among the great and the mean; filling palaces with disquiet and distraction, harder to be borne as it cannot be mentioned, and overwhelming multitudes with incurable diseases and unpitied poverty.' yet he found an excuse for drunkenness which few men but he could have found. stockdale (_memoirs_, ii. ) says that he heard mrs. williams 'wonder what pleasure men can take in making beasts of themselves. "i wonder, madam," replied johnson, "that you have not penetration enough to see the strong inducement to this excess; for he who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."' [ ] very likely boswell. see _post_, under may , , for a like instance. in , under a yew tree, he promised temple to be sober. on aug. , , he wrote:--'my promise under the solemn yew i have observed wonderfully, having never infringed it till, the other day, a very jovial company of us dined at a tavern, and i unwarily exceeded my bottle of old hock; and having once broke over the pale, i run wild, but i did not get drunk. i was, however, intoxicated, and very ill next day.' _letters of boswell_, p. . during his present visit to london he wrote:--'my promise under the solemn yew was not religiously kept, because a little wine hurried me on too much. the general [paoli] has taken my word of honour that i shall not taste fermented liquor for a year, that i may recover sobriety. i have kept this promise now about three weeks. i was really growing a drunkard.' _ib_ p. . in he was for a short time a water drinker. _post_, april , . his intemperance grew upon him, and at last carried him off. on dec. , , he wrote to malone:--'courtenay took my word and honour that till march my allowance of wine per diem should not exceed four good glasses at dinner, and a pint after it, and this i have kept, though i have dined with jack wilkes, &c. on march , , he wrote:--'your friendly admonition as to excess in wine _has_ been often too applicable. as i am now free from my restriction to courtenay, i shall be much upon my guard; for, to tell the truth, i did go too deep the day before yesterday.' croker's _boswell_, pp. , . [ ] 'mathematics are perhaps too much studied at our universities. this seems a science to which the meanest intellects are equal. i forget who it is that says, "all men might understand mathematics if they would."' goldsmith's _present stale of polite learning_, ch. . [ ] 'no, sir,' he once said, 'people are not born with a particular genius for particular employments or studies, for it would be like saying that a man could see a great way east, but could not west. it is good sense applied with diligence to what was at first a mere accident, and which by great application grew to be called by the generality of mankind a particular genius.' miss reynolds's _recollections_. croker's _boswell_, p. :--'perhaps this is miss reynolds's recollection of the following, in boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , ':--johnson. 'i could as easily apply to law as to tragick poetry.' boswell. 'yet, sir, you did apply to tragick poetry, not to law.' johnson. 'because, sir, i had not money to study law. sir, the man who has vigour may walk to the east just as well as to the west, if he happens to turn his head that way.' 'the true genius,' he wrote (_works_, vii. ), 'is a mind of large general powers, accidentally determined to some particular direction.' reynolds held the same doctrine, having got it no doubt from johnson. he held 'that the superiority attainable in any pursuit whatever does not originate in an innate propensity of the mind to that pursuit in particular, but depends on the general strength of the intellect, and on the intense and constant application of that strength to a specific purpose. he regarded ambition as the cause of eminence, but accident as pointing out the _means_.' northcote's _reynolds_, i. ii. 'porson insisted that all men are born with abilities nearly equal. "any one," he would say, "might become quite as good a critic as i am, if he would only take the trouble to make himself so. i have made myself what i am by intense labour."' rogers's _table talk_, p. . hume maintained the opposite. 'this forenoon,' wrote boswell on june , , 'mr. hume came in. he did not say much. i only remember his remark, that characters depend more on original formation than on the way we are educated; "for," said he, "princes are educated uniformly, and yet how different are they! how different was james the second from charles the second!"' _letters of boswell_, p. . boswell recorded, two years earlier (_hebrides_, sept. ):--'dr. johnson denied that any child was better than another, but by difference of instruction; though, in consequence of greater attention being paid to instruction by one child than another, and of a variety of imperceptible causes, such as instruction being counteracted by servants, a notion was conceived that, of two children equally well educated, one was naturally much worse than another.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] the grossness of naval men is shewn in captain mirvan, in miss burney's _evelina_. in her _diary_, i. , she records:--'the more i see of sea-captains the less reason i have to be ashamed of captain mirvan, for they have all so irresistible a propensity to wanton mischief--to roasting beaus and detesting old women, that i quite rejoice i shewed the book to no one ere printed, lest i should have been prevailed upon to soften his character.' [ ] baretti, in a ms. note in _piozzi letters_, i. , describes gwyn as 'the welsh architect that built the bridge at oxford.' he built magdalen bridge. [ ] 'whence,' asks goldsmith, 'has proceeded the vain magnificence of expensive architecture in our colleges? is it that men study to more advantage in a palace than in a cell? one single performance of taste or genius confers more real honour on its parent university than all the labours of the chisel.' _present state of polite learning_, ch. . newton used to say of his friend, the earl of pembroke, 'that he was a lover of stone dolls.' brewster's _newton_, ed. , ii. . [ ] afterwards lord stowell. see the beginning of boswell's _hebrides_. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, oct. , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, under april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'hume told cadell, the bookseller, that he had a great desire to be introduced to as many of the persons who had written against him as could be collected. accordingly, dr. douglas, dr. adams, &c., were invited by cadell to dine at his house, in order to meet hume. they came; and dr. price, who was of the party, assured me that they were all delighted with david.' rogers's _table talk_, p. . [ ] boswell, in his _corsica_, ed. , p. , uses a strange argument against infidelity. 'belief is favourable to the human mind were it for nothing else but to furnish it entertainment. an infidel, i should think, must frequently suffer from ennui.' in his _hebrides_, aug. , note, he attacks adam smith for being 'so forgetful of _human comfort_ as to give any countenance to that dreary infidelity which would "make us poor indeed."' [ ] 'jemmy twitcher. are we more dishonest than the rest of mankind? what we win, gentlemen, is our own, by the law of arms and the right of conquest. crook-finger'd jack. where shall we find such another set of practical philosophers, who to a man are above the fear of death?' _the beggar's opera_, act ii. sc. i. [ ] boswell, i think, here aims a blow at gibbon. he says (_post_, under march , ), that 'johnson had talked with some disgust of mr. gibbon's ugliness.' he wrote to temple on may , :--'gibbon is an ugly, affected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our literary club to me.' he had before classed him among 'infidel wasps and venomous insects.' _letters of boswell_, pp. , . the younger coleman describes gibbon as dressed 'in a suit of flowered velvet, with a bag and sword.' _random records_, i. . [ ] 'formam quidem ipsam, marce fili, et tamquam faciem honesti vides, "quae si oculis cerneretur, mirabiles amores" ut ait plato, "excitaret sapientiae."' cicero, de _off_. i. . [ ] of beattie's attack on hume, he said:--'treating your adversary with respect, is striking soft in a battle.' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] when gibbon entered magdalen college in , the ordinary commoners were already excluded. 'as a gentleman commoner,' he writes, 'i was admitted to the society of the fellows, and fondly expected that some questions of literature would be the amusing and instructive topics of their discourse. their conversation stagnated in a round of college business, tory politics, personal anecdotes, and private scandal; their dull and deep potations excused the brisk intemperance of youth; and their constitutional toasts were not expressive of the most lively loyalty for the house of hanover.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . in jesse's edition of white's _selborne_, p. ii, it is stated that 'white, as long as his health allowed him, always attended the annual election of fellows at oriel college, where the gentlemen-commoners were allowed the use of the common-room after dinner. this liberty they seldom availed themselves of, except on the occasion of mr. white's visits; for such was his happy manner of telling a story that the room was always filled when he was there.' he died in . [ ] 'so different are the colours of life as we look forward to the future, or backward to the past, and so different the opinions and sentiments which this contrariety of appearance naturally produces, that the conversation of the old and young ends generally with contempt or pity on either side.... one generation is always the scorn and wonder of the other; and the notions of the old and young are like liquors of different gravity and texture which never can unite.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] 'it was said of a dispute between two mathematicians, "_malim cum scaligero errare quam cum clavio recte sapere_" that "it was more eligible to go wrong with one than right with the other." a tendency of the same kind every mind must feel at the perusal of dryden's prefaces and rymer's discourses.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'there is evidence of phil. jones's love of beer; for we find scribbled at the end of the college buttery-books, "o yes, o yes, come forth, phil. jones, and answer to your charge for exceeding the batells." his excess, perhaps, was in liquor.' _dr. johnson: his friends, &c_., p. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] dr. fisher, who was present, told mr. croker that 'he recollected one passage of the conversation. boswell quoted _quern deus vult perdere, prius dementat_, and asked where it was. a pause. at last dr. chandler said, in horace. another pause. then fisher remarked that he knew of no metre in horace to which the words could be reduced: and johnson said dictatorially, "the young man is right."' see _post_, march , . for another of dr. fisher's anecdotes, see _ante_, p. . mark pattison recorded in his _diary_ in (_memoirs_, p. ), on the authority of mr. (now cardinal) newman:--'about , the worst time in the university; a head of oriel then, who was continually obliged to be assisted to bed by his butler. gaudies, a scene of wild license. at christ church they dined at three, and sat regularly till chapel at nine.' a gaudy is such a festival as the one in the text. [ ] the author of the _commentary on the psalms_. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , note. [ ] see _ante_, pp. , . [ ] 'i have seen,' said mr. donne to sir r. drewry, 'a dreadful vision since i saw you. i have seen my dear wife pass twice by me, through this room, with her hair hanging about her shoulders, and a dead child in her arms.' he learnt that on the same day, and about the very hour, after a long and dangerous labour, she had been delivered of a dead child. walton's _life of dr. donne_, ed. , p. . [ ] 'biographers so little regard the manners or behaviour of their heroes, that more knowledge may be gained of a man's real character by a short conversation with one of his servants than from a formal and studied narrative, begun with his pedigree, and ended with his funeral.' _the rambler_, no. . see _post_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] it has been mentioned to me by an accurate english friend, that dr. johnson could never have used the phrase _almost nothing_, as not being english; and therefore i have put another in its place. at the same time, i am not quite convinced it is not good english. for the best writers use the phrase '_little or nothing_;' i.e. almost so little as to be nothing. boswell. boswell might have left _almost nothing_ in his text. johnson used it in his writings, certainly twice. 'it will add _almost nothing_ to the expense.' works, v. . 'i have read little, _almost nothing_.' _pr. and med_. p. . moreover, in a letter to mrs. aston, written on nov. , (croker's _boswell_, p. ), he says:--'nothing almost is purchased.' in _king lear_, act ii. sc. , we have:-- 'nothing almost sees miracles but misery.' [ ] 'pope's fortune did not suffer his charity to be splendid and conspicuous; but he assisted dodsley with a hundred pounds, that he might open a shop.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] _a muse in livery: or the footman's miscellany_. . a rhyme in the motto on the title-page shows what a cockney muse dodsley's was. he writes:-- 'but when i mount behind the coach, and bear aloft a flaming torch.' the preface is written with much good feeling. [ ] james dodsley, many years a bookseller in pall mall. he died feb. , . p. cunningham. he was living, therefore, when this anecdote was published. [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, iii. ) says:--'you know how decent, humble, inoffensive a creature dodsley is; how little apt to forget or disguise his having been a footman.' johnson seems to refer to dodsley in the following passage, written in (_works_, v. ):--'the last century imagined that a man composing in his chariot was a new object of curiosity; but how much would the wonder have been increased by a footman studying behind it.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] yet surely it is a very useful work, and of wonderful research and labour for one man to have executed. boswell. see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. , . [ ] two days earlier, hume congratulated gibbon on the first volume of his _decline and fall_:--'i own that if i had not previously had the happiness of your personal acquaintance, such a performance from an englishman in our age would have given me some surprise. you may smile at this sentiment, but as it seems to me that your countrymen, for almost a whole generation, have given themselves up to barbarous and absurd faction, and have totally neglected all polite letters, i no longer expected any valuable production ever to come from them.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] five weeks later boswell used a different metaphor. 'i think it is right that as fast as infidel wasps or venomous insects, whether creeping or flying, are hatched, they should be crushed.' _letters of boswell_, p. . if the infidels were wasps to the orthodox, the orthodox were hornets to the infidels. gibbon wrote (_misc. works_, i. ):--'the freedom of my writings has indeed provoked an implacable tribe; but as i was safe from the stings, i was soon accustomed to the buzzing of the hornets.' [ ] macaulay thus examines this report (_essays_, i. ):--'to what then, it has been asked, could johnson allude? possibly to some anecdote or some conversation of which all trace is lost. one conjecture may be offered, though with diffidence. gibbon tells us in his memoirs [_misc. works_, i. ] that at oxford he took a fancy for studying arabic, and was prevented from doing so by the remonstrances of his tutor. soon after this, the young man fell in with bossuet's controversial writings, and was speedily converted by them to the roman catholic faith. the apostasy of a gentleman-commoner would of course be for a time the chief subject of conversation in the common room of magdalene. his whim about arabic learning would naturally be mentioned, and would give occasion to some jokes about the probability of his turning mussulman. if such jokes were made, johnson, who frequently visited oxford, was very likely to hear of them.' though gibbon's _autobiography_ ends with the year , yet he wrote portions of it, i believe, after the publication of the _life of johnson_. (see _ante_, ii. , note .) i have little doubt that in the following lines he refers to the attack thus made on him by boswell and johnson. 'many years afterwards, when the name of gibbon was become as notorious as that of middleton, it was industriously whispered at oxford that the historian had formerly "turned papist;" my character stood exposed to the reproach of inconstancy.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . [ ] steele, in his _apology for himself and his writings_ (ed. , p. ), says of himself:--'he first became an author when an ensign of the guards, a way of life exposed to much irregularity, and being thoroughly convinced of many things of which he often repented, and which he more often repeated, he writ, for his own private use, a little book called the _christian hero_, with a design principally to fix upon his own mind a strong impression of virtue and religion, in opposition to a stronger propensity towards unwarrantable pleasures. this secret admonition was too weak; he therefore printed the book with his name, in hopes that a standing testimony against himself, and the eyes of the world, that is to say of his acquaintance, upon him in a new light, might curb his desires, and make him ashamed of understanding and seeming to feel what was virtuous, and living so quite contrary a life.' [ ] 'a man,' no doubt, is boswell himself. [ ] '"i was sure when i read it that the preface to baretti's _dialogues_ was dr. johnson's; and that i made him confess." "baretti's _dialogues_! what are they about?" "a thimble, and a spoon, and a knife, and a fork! they are the most absurd, and yet the most laughable things you ever saw. they were written for miss thrale, and all the dialogues are between her and him, except now and then a shovel and a poker, or a goose and a chair happen to step in."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] 'april , . at present nothing is talked of, nothing admired, but what i cannot help calling a very insipid and tedious performance; it is a kind of novel called _the life and opinions of tristram shandy_; the great humour of which consists in the whole narration always going backwards.' walpole's _letters_, iii. . 'march , . the second and third volumes of _tristram shandy_, the dregs of nonsense, have universally met the contempt they deserve.' _ib_ . '"my good friend," said dr. farmer (_ante_, i. ), one day in the parlour at emanuel college, "you young men seem very fond of this _tristram shandy_; but mark my words, however much it may be talked about at present, yet, depend upon it, in the course of twenty years, should any one wish to refer to it, he will be obliged to go to an antiquary to inquire for it."' croker's _boswell_, ed. , ii. . see _ante_, ii. , note , and . [ ] mrs. rudd. she and the two brothers perreau were charged with forgery. she was tried first and acquitted, the verdict of the jury being 'not guilty, according to the evidence before us.' the _ann. reg_. xviii. , adds:--'there were the loudest applauses on this acquittal almost ever known in a court of justice.' 'the issue of mrs. rudd's trial was thought to involve the fate of the perreaus; and the popular fancy had taken the part of the woman as against the men.' they were convicted and hanged, protesting their innocence. _letters of boswell_, pp. - . boswell wrote to temple on april :--'you know my curiosity and love of adventure; i have got acquainted with the celebrated mrs. rudd.' _ib_ p. --three days later, he wrote:-- 'perhaps the adventure with mrs. rudd is very foolish, notwithstanding dr. johnson's approbation.' _ib_ p. . see _post_, iii. , and april , . [ ] see _post_, may , , where johnson says that mrs. montagu has 'a constant _stream_ of conversation,' and a second time allows that 'burke is an extraordinary man.' johnson writes of 'a _stream_ of melody.' works, viii. . for burke's conversation see _post_, april , , in mr. langton's _collection_, march , , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] according to boswell's record in _boswelliana_, p. , two sayings are here united. he there writes, on the authority of mr. langton:--'dr. johnson had a very high opinion of edmund burke. he said, "that fellow calls forth all my powers"; and once when he was out of spirits and rather dejected he said, "were i to see burke now 'twould kill me."' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , iii. , and under may , . [ ] in a note on the _dunciad_, ii. , the author of this epigram is said to be dr. evans. [ ] capability brown, as he was called. see _post_, oct. , . [ ] such an 'impudent dog' had boswell himself been in corsica. 'before i was accustomed to the corsican hospitality,' he wrote. 'i sometimes forgot myself, and imagining i was in a publick house, called for what i wanted, with the tone which one uses in calling to the waiters at a tavern. i did so at pino, asking for a variety of things at once, when signora tomasi perceiving my mistake, looked in my face and smiled, saying with much calmness and good nature, "una cosa dopo un altra, signore. one thing after another, sir."' boswell's _corsica_, ed. , p. . a corsican gentleman, who knows the tomasi family, told me that this reply is preserved among them by tradition. [ ] sir john hawkins has preserved very few _memorabilia_ of johnson. there is, however, to be found, in his bulky tome [p. ], a very excellent one upon this subject:--'in contradiction to those, who, having a wife and children, prefer domestick enjoyments to those which a tavern affords, i have heard him assert, _that a tavern chair was the throne of human felicity_.--"as soon," said he, "as i enter the door of a tavern, i experience an oblivion of care, and a freedom from solicitude: when i am seated, i find the master courteous, and the servants obsequious to my call; anxious to know and ready to supply my wants: wine there exhilarates my spirits, and prompts me to free conversation and an interchange of discourse with those whom i most love: i dogmatise and am contradicted, and in this conflict of opinions and sentiments i find delight."' boswell. [ ] we happened to lie this night at the inn at henley, where shenstone wrote these lines. boswell. i give them as they are found in the corrected edition of his works, published after his death. in dodsley's collection the stanza ran thus:-- 'whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round, whate'er his _various tour has_ been, may sigh to think _how oft_ he found his warmest welcome at an inn.' boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see shenstone's _works_, iii. . rev. richard graves, author of _the spiritual quixote_. he and shenstone were fellow-students at pembroke college, oxford. [ ] 'he too often makes use of the _abstract_ for the _concrete_.' shenstone. boswell. [ ] 'i asked him why he doated on a coach so, and received for answer, that in the first place the company was shut in with him _there_, and could not escape as out of a room; in the next place he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be deaf.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . see _post_, iii, , . gibbon, at the end of a journey in a post-chaise, wrote (_misc. works_, i. ):--'i am always so much delighted and improved with this union of easeand motion, that, were not the expense enormous, i would travel every year some hundred miles, more especially in england.' [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) tells the following 'ludicrous story' of _the fleece_. 'dodsley the bookseller was one day mentioning it to a critical visitor with more expectation of success than the other could easily admit. in the conversation the author's age was asked; and, being represented as advanced in life, "he will," said the critic, "be buried in woollen."' to encourage the trade in wool, an act was passed requiring the dead to be buried in woollen, burke refers to this when he says of lord chatham, who was swathed in flannel owing to the gout:-- 'like a true obeyer of the laws, he will be buried in woollen.' burke's _corres_, ii. . hawkins (_life_, p. ) says:--'a portrait of samuel dyer [see _post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_] was painted by sir joshua, and from it a mezzotinto was scraped; the print whereof, as he was little known, sold only to his friends. a singular use was made of it; bell, the publisher of _the english poets_, caused an engraving to be made from it, and prefixed it to the poems of mr. john dyer.' [ ] such is this little laughable incident, which has been often related. dr. percy, the bishop of dromore, who was an intimate friend of dr. grainger, and has a particular regard for his memory, has communicated to me the following explanation:-- 'the passage in question was originally not liable to such a perversion; for the authour having occasion in that part of his work to mention the havock made by rats and mice, had introduced the subject in a kind of mock heroick, and a parody of homer's battle of the frogs and mice, invoking the muse of the old grecian bard in an elegant and well-turned manner. in that state i had seen it; but afterwards, unknown to me and other friends, he had been persuaded, contrary to his own better judgement, to alter it, so as to produce the unlucky effect above-mentioned.' the above was written by the bishop when he had not the poem itself to recur to; and though the account given was true of it at one period, yet as dr. grainger afterwards altered the passage in question, the remarks in the text do not now apply to the printed poem. the bishop gives this character of dr. grainger:--'he was not only a man of genius and learning, but had many excellent virtues; being one of the most generous, friendly, and benevolent men i ever knew.' boswell. [ ] dr. johnson said to me, 'percy, sir, was angry with me for laughing at _the sugar-cane_: for he had a mind to make a great thing of grainger's rats.' boswell. johnson helped percy in writing a review of this poem in (_ante_, i. ). [ ] in _poems_ by christopher smart, ed. , p. . one line may serve as a sample of the whole poem, writing of 'bacchus, god of hops,' the poet says:-- ''tis he shall gen'rate the buxom beer.' [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] henley in arden, thirteen miles from birmingham. [ ] mr. hector's house was in the square--now known as the old square. it afterwards formed a part of the stork hotel, but it was pulled down when corporation street was made. a marble tablet had been placed on the house at the suggestion of the late mr. george dawson, marking the spot where 'edmund hector was the host, samuel johnson the guest.' this tablet, together with the wainscoting, the door, and the mantelpiece of one of the rooms, was set up in aston hall, at the johnson centenary, in a room that is to be known as dr. johnson's room. [ ] my worthy friend mr. langton, to whom i am under innumerable obligations in the course of my johnsonian history, has furnished me with a droll illustration about this question. an honest carpenter, after giving some anecdote in his presence of the ill-treatment which he had received from a clergyman's wife, who was a noted termagant, and whom he accused of unjust dealing in some transaction with him, added, 'i took care to let her know what i thought of her.' and being asked, 'what did you say?' answered, 'i told her she was a _scoundrel_.' boswell. [ ] 'as to the baptism of infants, it is a mere human tradition, for which neither precept nor practice is to be found in all the scripture.' barclay's _apology_, proposition xii, ed. , p. . [ ] _john_ iii. . boswell. [ ] mr. seward (_anec_. ii. ) says that 'dr. johnson always supposed that mr. richardson had mr. nelson in his thoughts when he delineated the character of sir charles grandison.' robert nelson was born in , and died in . [ ] 'mr. arkwright pronounced johnson to be the only person who on a first view understood both the principle and powers of machinery.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . arthur young, who visited birmingham in , writes:--'i was nowhere more disappointed than at birmingham, where i could not gain any intelligence even of the most common nature, through the excessive jealousy of the manufacturers. it seems the french have carried off several of their fabricks, and thereby injured the town not a little. this makes them so cautious that they will show strangers scarce anything.' _tour through the north of england_, iii. . [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale (year not given):--'i have passed one day at birmingham with my old friend hector--there's a name--and his sister, an old love. my mistress is grown much older than my friend, ---"o quid habes illius, illius quae spirabat amores quae me surpuerat mihi."' 'of her, of her what now remains, who breathed the loves, who charmed the swains, and snatched me from my heart?' francis, horace, _odes_, iv. . . _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] some years later he wrote:--'mrs. careless took me under her care, and told me when i had tea enough.' _ib_. ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] johnson, in a letter to hector, on march of this year, described congreve as 'very dull, very valetudinary, and very recluse, willing, i am afraid, to forget the world, and content to be forgotten by it, to repose in that sullen sensuality into which men naturally sink who think disease a justification of indulgence, and converse only with those who hope to prosper by indulging them ... infirmity will come, but let us not invite it; indulgence will allure us, but let us turn resolutely away. time cannot always be defeated, but let us not yield till we are conquered.' _notes and queries_, th s., iii. . [ ] in the same letter he said:--'i hope dear mrs. careless is well, and now and then does not disdain to mention my name. it is happy when a brother and sister live to pass their time at our age together. i have nobody to whom i can talk of my first years--when i do to lichfield, i see the old places but find nobody that enjoyed them with me.' [ ] i went through the house where my illustrious friend was born, with a reverence with which it doubtless will long be visited. an engraved view of it, with the adjacent buildings, is in _the gent. mag_. for feb. . boswell. [ ] the scene of farquhar's _beaux stratagem_ is laid in lichfield. the passage in which the ale is praised begins as follows:-- '_aimwell_. i have heard your town of lichfield much famed for ale; i think i'll taste that. '_boniface_, sir, i have now in my cellar ten tun of the best ale in staffordshire; 'tis smooth as oil, sweet as milk, clear as amber, and strong as brandy; and will be just fourteen year old the fifth day of next march, old style.' act i. sc. i. see _post_, april , . [ ] though his letters to her are very affectionate, yet what he wrote of her to mrs. thrale shews that her love for him was not strong. thus he writes:--'july , . miss lucy is more kind and civil than i expected.' _piozzi letters_, i. . 'july , . lucy is a philosopher, and considers me as one of the external and accidental things that are to be taken and left without emotion. if i could learn of lucy, would it be better? will you teach me?' _ib_ p. . 'aug. , . this was to have been my last letter from this place, but lucy says i must not go this week. fits of tenderness with mrs. lucy are not common, but she seems now to have a little paroxysm, and i was not willing to counteract it.' _ib_ p. . 'oct. , . poor lucy's illness has left her very deaf, and i think, very inarticulate ... but she seems to like me better than she did.' _ib_ ii. . 'oct. , . poor lucy's health is very much broken ... her mental powers are not impaired, and her social virtues seem to increase. she never was so civil to me before.' _ib_ p. . on his mother's death he had written to her:--'every heart must lean to somebody, and i have nobody but you.' _ante_ i. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] boswell varies johnson's definition, which was 'a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people.' _ante_, i. , note . [ ] '"i remember," said dr. johnson, "when all the _decent_ people in lichfield got drunk every night."' boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . see _post_, iii. . [ ] he had to allow that in literature they were behind the age. nearly four years after the publication of _evelina_, he wrote:--'whatever burney [by burney he meant miss burney] may think of the celerity of fame, the name of _evelina_ had never been heard at lichfield till i brought it. i am afraid my dear townsmen will be mentioned in future days as the last part of this nation that was civilised. but the days of darkness are soon to be at an end; the reading society ordered it to be procured this week.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] garrick himself, like the lichfieldians, always said--_shupreme, shuperior_. burney. [ ] johnson did not always speak so disrespectfully of birmingham. in his _taxation no tyranny_ (_works_, vi. ), he wrote:--'the traders of birmingham have rescued themselves from all imputation of narrow selfishness by a manly recommendation to parliament of the rights and dignity of their native country.' the _boobies_ in this case were sound tories. [ ] this play was gibber's _hob; or the country wake_, with additions, which in its turn was dogget's _country wake_ reduced. reed's _biog. dram_. ii. . [ ] boswell says, _post_, under sept. , , that 'johnson had thought more upon the subject of acting than might be generally supposed.' [ ] a nice observer of the female form. croker. terence, _eun_. iii. . [ ] in farquhar's comedy of _sir harry wildair_. [ ] gilbert walmesley, _ante_, i. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] cradock (_memoirs_ i. ) says that in the cathedral porch, a gentleman, 'who might, perhaps, be too ambitious to be thought an acquaintance of the great literary oracle, ventured to say, "dr. johnson, we have had a most excellent discourse to day," to which he replied, "that may be, sir, but it is impossible for you to know it."' [ ] _the tempest_, act iv., sc. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] johnson, in , advising miss porter to rent a house, said:--'you might have the palace for twenty pounds.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] boswell, after his book was published, quarrelled with miss seward. he said that he was forced to examine these communications 'with much caution. they were tinctured with a strong prejudice against johnson.' his book, he continued, was meant to be 'a _real history_ and not a _novel_,' so that he had 'to suppress all erroneous particulars, however entertaining.' he accused her of attacking johnson with malevolence. _gent. mag_. , p. . for boswell's second meeting with her, see _post_, iii. . [ ] a signor recupero had noticed on etna, the thickness of each stratum of earth between the several strata of lava. 'he tells me,' wrote brydone, 'he is exceedingly embarrassed by these discoveries in writing the history of the mountain. that moses hangs like a dead weight upon him, and blunts all his zeal for inquiry; for that really he has not the conscience to make his mountain so young as that prophet makes the world. the bishop, who is strenuously orthodox--for it is an excellent see--has already warned him to be upon his guard, and not to pretend to be a better natural historian than moses.' brydone's _tour_, i. . [ ] he wrote:--'mr. boswell is with me, but i will take care that he shall hinder no business, nor shall he know more than you would have him.' mr. morison's _collection of autographs_, vol. ii. [ ] 'march , . master thrale, son of mr. thrale, member for the borough, suddenly before his father's door.' _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] see _post_, iii. . [ ] 'sir,' he said, 'i would walk to the extent of the diameter of the earth to save beauclerk' (_post_, , in mr. langton's _collection_). he had written of the boy the previous summer:--'pray give my service to my dear friend harry, and tell him that mr. murphy does not love him better than i do.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see an accurate and animated statement of mr. gastrel's barbarity, by mr. malone, in a note on _some account of the life of william shakspeare_, prefixed to his admirable edition of that poet's works, vol. i. p. . boswell. [ ] see prior's _life of malone_, p. . [ ] _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] see _post_, iii. , note . [ ] mr. hoole wrote of johnson's last days:--'being asked unnecessary and frivolous questions, he said he often thought of _macbeth_ [act iii. sc. ]--"question enrages him."' croker's _boswell_, p. . see _post_, iii. , . [ ] sir fletcher norton, afterwards speaker of the house of commons, and in created baron grantley. malone. for norton's ignorance, see _ante_, ii. . walpole (_letters_, iv. ) described him as 'a tough enemy; i don't mean in parts or argument, but one that makes an excellent bull-dog.' when in he was made speaker, walpole wrote:--'nothing can exceed the badness of his character, even in this bad age.' _ib_ v. . in his _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, i. , walpole says:--'it was known that in private causes he took money from both parties.' horne (afterwards horne tooke) charged norton with this practice; _parl. hist_. xvii. ; and so did junius in his _letter_ xxxix. churchill, in _the duellist_ (_poems_, ed. , ii. ), writing of him, says:-- 'how often... hath he ta'en briefs on false pretence, and undertaken the defence of trusting fools, whom in the end he meant to ruin, not defend.' lord eldon said that 'he was much known by the name of sir bull-face double fee.' he added that 'he was not a lawyer.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . 'acting, it was supposed from resentment, having been refused a peerage,' he made on may , , a bold speech to the king on presenting the civil list bill. 'he told him that his faithful commons, labouring under burthens almost too heavy to be borne, had granted him a very great additional revenue--great beyond example, great beyond his majesty's highest wants.' _parl. hist_. xix. , and walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] burns's holy willie, like boswell, was an ayrshire man. [ ] johnson, on may , wrote of him to mrs. thrale:--'he has his head as full as yours at an election. livings and preferments, as if he were in want with twenty children, run in his head. but a man must have his head on something, small or great.' _piozzi letters_, i. . [ ] johnson wrote on may , (_piozzi letters_, ii. ):'---- is come to town, brisk and vigorous, fierce and fell, to drive on his lawsuit. nothing in all life now can be more _profligater_ than what he is; and if, in case, that so be, that they persist for to resist him, he is resolved not to spare no money, nor no time.' taylor, no doubt, is meant, and baretti, in a marginal note, says:--'this was the elegant phraseology of that doctor.' see _post_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] he did not hold with steele, who in _the spectator_, no. , writes:--'it was prettily said, "he that would be long an old man must begin early to be one."' mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that 'saying of the old philosopher, that he who wants least is most like the gods who want nothing, was a favourite sentence with dr. johnson, who required less attendance, sick or well, than ever i saw any human creature.' [ ] dr. butter, of derby, is mentioned _post_, iii. , and under may , . [ ] andrew stuart's _letters to lord mansfield_ (_ante_, ii. ). [ ] johnson was thinking of charles's meeting with the king of poland. 'charles xii. était en grosses bottes, ayant pour cravate un taffetas noir qui lui serrait le cou; son habit était, comme à l'ordinaire, d'un gros drap bleu, avec des boutons de cuivre doré.' voltaire's _works_, ed. , xx. . the end of the second volume. proofreading team. boswell's life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides and johnson's diary of a journey into north wales edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l. pembroke college, oxford in six volumes volume iv.--life ( - ) contents of vol. iv. life of samuel johnson, ll.d. ( -dec. , ) appendices: a. altercation between dr. johnson and dean barnard. b. johnson and priestley. c. the club in ivy-lane. d. the essex head club. e. miss burney's account of johnson's last days. f. notes on johnson's will, etc. g. notes on boswell's note. h. notes on boswell's note. i. parr's epitaph on johnson. footnotes. _the life of samuel johnson, ll.d._ being disappointed in my hopes of meeting johnson this year, so that i could hear none of his admirable sayings, i shall compensate for this want[ ] by inserting a collection of them, for which i am indebted to my worthy friend mr. langton, whose kind communications have been separately interwoven in many parts of this work. very few articles of this collection were committed to writing by himself, he not having that habit; which he regrets, and which those who know the numerous opportunities he had of gathering the rich fruits of _johnsonian_ wit and wisdom, must ever regret. i however found, in conversations with him, that a good store of _johnsoniana_ treasured in his mind[ ]; and i compared it to herculaneum, or some old roman field, which when dug, fully rewards the labour employed. the authenticity of every article is unquestionable. for the expression, i, who wrote them down in his presence, am partly answerable. 'theocritus is not deserving of very high respect as a writer; as to the pastoral part, virgil is very evidently superiour. he wrote when there had been a larger influx of knowledge into the world than when theocritus lived. theocritus does not abound in description, though living in a beautiful country: the manners painted are coarse and gross. virgil has much more description, more sentiment, more of nature, and more of art. some of the most excellent parts of theocritus are, where castor and pollux, going with the other argonauts, land on the bebrycian coast, and there fall into a dispute with amycus, the king of that country; which is as well conducted as euripides could have done it; and the battle is well related. afterwards they carry off a woman, whose two brothers come to recover her, and expostulate with castor and pollux on their injustice; but they pay no regard to the brothers, and a battle ensues, where castor and his brother are triumphant. theocritus seems not to have seen that the brothers have the advantage in their argument over his argonaut heroes. _the sicilian gossips_ is a piece of merit.' 'callimachus is a writer of little excellence. the chief thing to be learned from him is his account of rites and mythology; which, though desirable to be known for the sake of understanding other parts of ancient authours, is the least pleasing or valuable part of their writings.' 'mattaire's account of the stephani[ ] is a heavy book. he seems to have been a puzzle-headed man, with a large share of scholarship, but with little geometry or logick in his head, without method, and possessed of little genius. he wrote latin verses from time to time, and published a set in his old age, which he called '_senilia_;' in which he shews so little learning or taste in writing, as to make _carteret_ a dactyl[ ]. in matters of genealogy it is necessary to give the bare names as they are; but in poetry, and in prose of any elegance in the writing, they require to have inflection given to them. his book of the dialects[ ] is a sad heap of confusion; the only way to write on them is to tabulate them with notes, added at the bottom of the page, and references.' 'it may be questioned, whether there is not some mistake as to the methods of employing the poor, seemingly on a supposition that there is a certain portion of work left undone for want of persons to do it; but if that is otherwise, and all the materials we have are actually worked up, or all the manufactures we can use or dispose of are already executed, then what is given to the poor, who are to be set at work, must be taken from some who now have it; as time must be taken for learning, according to sir william petty's observation, a certain part of those very materials that, as it is, are properly worked up, must be spoiled by the unskilfulness of novices. we may apply to well-meaning, but misjudging persons in particulars of this nature, what giannone[ ] said to a monk, who wanted what he called to _convert_ him: _"tu sei santo, ma tu non sei filosofo"_--it is an unhappy circumstance that one might give away five hundred pounds in a year to those that importune in the streets, and not do any good[ ].' 'there is nothing more likely to betray a man into absurdity than _condescension_; when he seems to suppose his understanding too powerful for his company[ ].' 'having asked mr. langton if his father and mother had sat for their pictures, which he thought it right for each generation of a family to do, and being told they had opposed it, he said, "sir, among the anfractuosities[ ] of the human mind, i know not if it may not be one, that there is a superstitious reluctance to sit for a picture."' 'john gilbert cooper[ ] related, that soon after the publication of his _dictionary_, garrick being asked by johnson what people said of it, told him, that among other animadversions, it was objected that he cited authorities which were beneath the dignity of such a work, and mentioned richardson. "nay, (said johnson,) i have done worse than that: i have cited _thee_, david[ ]."' 'talking of expence, he observed, with what munificence a great merchant will spend his money, both from his having it at command, and from his enlarged views by calculation of a good effect upon the whole. "whereas (said he) you will hardly ever find a country gentleman who is not a good deal disconcerted at an unexpected occasion for his being obliged to lay out ten pounds[ ]."' 'when in good humour he would talk of his own writings with a wonderful frankness and candour, and would even criticise them with the closest severity. one day, having read over one of his ramblers, mr. langton asked him, how he liked that paper; he shook his head, and answered, "too wordy." at another time, when one was reading his tragedy of _irene_ to a company at a house in the country, he left the room; and somebody having asked him the reason of this, he replied, sir, i thought it had been better[ ].' 'talking of a point of delicate scrupulosity[ ] of moral conduct, he said to mr. langton, "men of harder minds than ours will do many things from which you and i would shrink; yet, sir, they will perhaps do more good in life than we. but let us try to help one another. if there be a wrong twist it may be set right. it is not probable that two people can be wrong the same way."' 'of the preface to capel's _shakspeare_, he said, "if the man would have come to me, i would have endeavoured to endow his purposes with words; for as it is, he doth gabble monstrously[ ]."' 'he related, that he had once in a dream a contest of wit with some other person, and that he was very much mortified by imagining that his opponent had the better of him. "now, (said he,) one may mark here the effect of sleep in weakening the power of reflection; for had not my judgement failed me, i should have seen, that the wit of this supposed antagonist, by whose superiority i felt myself depressed, was as much furnished by me, as that which i thought i had been uttering in my own character."' 'one evening in company, an ingenious and learned gentleman read to him a letter of compliment which he had received from one of the professors of a foreign university. johnson, in an irritable fit, thinking there was too much ostentation, said, "i never receive any of these tributes of applause from abroad. one instance i recollect of a foreign publication, in which mention is made of _l'illustre lockman_[ ]."' 'of sir joshua reynolds, he said, "sir, i know no man who has passed through life with more observation than reynolds."' 'he repeated to mr. langton, with great energy, in the greek, our saviour's gracious expression concerning the forgiveness of mary magdalen, "[greek: ae pistis sou sesoke se poreuou eis eiraeuaeu.] thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace[ ]." he said, "the manner of this dismission is exceedingly affecting."' 'he thus defined the difference between physical and moral truth; "physical truth, is, when you tell a thing as it actually is. moral truth, is, when you tell a thing sincerely and precisely as it appears to you. i say such a one walked across the street; if he really did so, i told a physical truth. if i thought so, though i should have been mistaken, i told a moral truth."' 'huggins, the translator of ariosto, and mr. thomas warton, in the early part of his literary life, had a dispute concerning that poet, of whom mr. warton in his _observations on spenser's fairy queen_, gave some account, which huggins attempted to answer with violence, and said, "i will _militate_ no longer against his _nescience_." huggins was master of the subject, but wanted expression. mr. warton's knowledge of it was then imperfect, but his manner lively and elegant[ ]. johnson said, "it appears to me, that huggins has ball without powder, and warton powder without ball."' 'talking of the farce of _high life below stairs_[ ], he said, "here is a farce, which is really very diverting when you see it acted; and yet one may read it, and not know that one has been reading any thing at all."' 'he used at one time to go occasionally to the green room of drury-lane theatre[ ], where he was much regarded by the players, and was very easy and facetious with them. he had a very high opinion of mrs. clive's comick powers, and conversed more with her than with any of them. he said, "clive, sir, is a good thing to sit by; she always understands what you say[ ]." and she said of him, "i love to sit by dr. johnson; he always entertains me." one night, when _the recruiting officer_ was acted, he said to mr. holland[ ], who had been expressing an apprehension that dr. johnson would disdain the works of farquhar; "no, sir, i think farquhar a man whose writings have considerable merit."' 'his friend garrick was so busy in conducting the drama, that they could not have so much intercourse as mr. garrick used to profess an anxious wish that there should be[ ]. there might, indeed, be something in the contemptuous severity as to the merit of acting, which his old preceptor nourished in himself, that would mortify garrick after the great applause which he received from the audience. for though johnson said of him, "sir, a man who has a nation to admire him every night, may well be expected to be somewhat elated[ ];" yet he would treat theatrical matters with a ludicrous slight. he mentioned one evening, "i met david coming off the stage, drest in a woman's riding-hood, when he acted in _the wonder_[ ]; i came full upon him, and i believe he was not pleased."' 'once he asked tom davies, whom he saw drest in a fine suit of clothes, "and what art thou to-night?" tom answered, "the thane of ross[ ];" (which it will be recollected is a very inconsiderable character.) "o brave!" said johnson.' 'of mr. longley, at rochester, a gentleman of very considerable learning, whom dr. johnson met there, he said, "my heart warms towards him. i was surprised to find in him such a nice acquaintance with the metre in the learned languages; though i was somewhat mortified that i had it not so much to myself, as i should have thought[ ]."' 'talking of the minuteness with which people will record the sayings of eminent persons, a story was told, that when pope was on a visit to spence[ ] at oxford, as they looked from the window they saw a gentleman commoner, who was just come in from riding, amusing himself with whipping at a post. pope took occasion to say, "that young gentleman seems to have little to do." mr. beauclerk observed, "then, to be sure, spence turned round and wrote that down;" and went on to say to dr. johnson, "pope, sir, would have said the same of you, if he had seen you distilling[ ]." johnson. "sir, if pope had told me of my distilling, i would have told him of his grotto[ ]."' 'he would allow no settled indulgence of idleness upon principle, and always repelled every attempt to urge excuses for it, a friend one day suggested, that it was not wholesome to study soon after dinner. johnson. "ah, sir, don't give way to such a fancy. at one time of my life i had taken it into my head that it was not wholesome to study between breakfast and dinner[ ]."' 'mr. beauclerk one day repeated to dr. johnson pope's lines, "let modest foster, if he will, excel ten metropolitans in preaching well:" [ ] then asked the doctor, "why did pope say this?" johnson. 'sir, he hoped it would vex somebody.' 'dr. goldsmith, upon occasion of mrs. lennox's bringing out a play[ ], said to dr. johnson at the club, that a person had advised him to go and hiss it, because she had attacked shakspeare in her book called _shakspeare illustrated_[ ]. johnson. "and did not you tell him he was a rascal[ ]?" goldsmith. "no, sir, i did not. perhaps he might not mean what he said." johnson. "nay, sir, if he lied, it is a different thing." colman slily said, (but it is believed dr. johnson did not hear him,) "then the proper expression should have been,--sir, if you don't lie, you're a rascal."' 'his affection for topham beauclerk was so great, that when beauclerk was labouring under that severe illness which at last occasioned his death, johnson said, (with a voice faultering with emotion,) "sir, i would walk to the extent of the diameter of the earth to save beauclerk[ ]."' 'one night at the club he produced a translation of an epitaph which lord elibank had written in english, for his lady, and requested of johnson to turn into latin for him. having read _domina de north et gray_, he said to dyer, "you see, sir, what barbarisms we are compelled to make use of, when modern titles are to be specifically mentioned in latin inscriptions." when he had read it once aloud, and there had been a general approbation expressed by the company, he addressed himself to mr. dyer in particular, and said, "sir, i beg to have your judgement, for i know your nicety[ ]." dyer then very properly desired to read it over again; which having done, he pointed out an incongruity in one of the sentences. johnson immediately assented to the observation, and said, "sir, this is owing to an alteration of a part of the sentence, from the form in which i had first written it; and i believe, sir, you may have remarked, that the making a partial change, without a due regard to the general structure of the sentence, is a very frequent cause of errour in composition."' 'johnson was well acquainted with mr. dossie, authour of a treatise on agriculture[ ]; and said of him, "sir, of the objects which the society of arts have chiefly in view, the chymical effects of bodies operating upon other bodies, he knows more than almost any man." johnson, in order to give mr. dossie his vote to be a member of this society, paid up an arrear which had run on for two years. on this occasion he mentioned a circumstance as characteristick of the scotch. one of that nation, (said he,) who had been a candidate, against whom i had voted, came up to me with a civil salutation. now, sir, this is their way. an englishman would have stomached it, and been sulky, and never have taken further notice of you; but a scotchman, sir, though you vote nineteen times against him, will accost you with equal complaisance after each time, and the twentieth time, sir, he will get your vote.' 'talking on the subject of toleration, one day when some friends were with him in his study, he made his usual remark, that the state has a right to regulate the religion of the people, who are the children of the state[ ]. a clergyman having readily acquiesced in this, johnson, who loved discussion, observed, "but, sir, you must go round to other states than our own. you do not know what a bramin has to say for himself[ ]. in short, sir, i have got no further than this: every man has a right to utter what he thinks truth, and every other man has a right to knock him down for it. martyrdom is the test[ ]."' 'a man, he observed, should begin to write soon; for, if he waits till his judgement is matured, his inability, through want of practice to express his conceptions, will make the disproportion so great between what he sees, and what he can attain, that he will probably be discouraged from writing at all[ ]. as a proof of the justness of this remark, we may instance what is related of the great lord granville[ ]; that after he had written his letter, giving an account of the battle of dettingen, he said, "here is a letter, expressed in terms not good enough for a tallow-chandler to have used.'" 'talking of a court-martial that was sitting upon a very momentous publick occasion, he expressed much doubt of an enlightened decision; and said, that perhaps there was not a member of it, who in the whole course of his life, had ever spent an hour by himself in balancing probabilities[ ].' 'goldsmith one day brought to the club a printed ode, which he, with others, had been hearing read by its authour in a publick room at the rate of five shillings each for admission[ ]. one of the company having read it aloud, dr. johnson said, "bolder words and more timorous meaning, i think never were brought together."' 'talking of gray's _odes_, he said, "they are forced plants raised in a hot-bed[ ]; and they are poor plants; they are but cucumbers after all." a gentleman present, who had been running down ode-writing in general, as a bad species of poetry, unluckily said, "had they been literally cucumbers, they had been better things than odes."--"yes, sir, (said johnson,) for a _hog_."' 'his distinction of the different degrees of attainment of learning was thus marked upon two occasions. of queen elizabeth he said, "she had learning enough to have given dignity to a bishop;" and of mr. thomas davies he said, "sir, davies has learning enough to give credit to a clergyman[ ]."' 'he used to quote, with great warmth, the saying of aristotle recorded by diogenes laertius[ ]; that there was the same difference between one learned and unlearned, as between the living and the dead.' 'it is very remarkable, that he retained in his memory very slight and trivial, as well as important things[ ]. as an instance of this, it seems that an inferiour domestick of the duke of leeds had attempted to celebrate his grace's marriage in such homely rhimes as he could make; and this curious composition having been sung to dr. johnson he got it by heart, and used to repeat it in a very pleasant manner. two of the stanzas were these:-- "when the duke of leeds shall married be to a fine young lady of high quality, how happy will that gentlewoman be in his grace of leeds's good company. she shall have all that's fine and fair, and the best of silk and sattin shall wear; and ride in a coach to take the air, and have a house in st. james's-square[ ]." to hear a man, of the weight and dignity of johnson, repeating such humble attempts at poetry, had a very amusing effect. he, however, seriously observed of the last stanza repeated by him, that it nearly comprized all the advantages that wealth can give.' 'an eminent foreigner, when he was shewn the british museum, was very troublesome with many absurd inquiries. "now there, sir, (said he,) is the difference between an englishman and a frenchman. a frenchman must be always talking, whether he knows any thing of the matter or not; an englishman is content to say nothing, when he has nothing to say."' 'his unjust contempt for foreigners was, indeed, extreme. one evening, at old slaughter's coffee-house[ ], when a number of them were talking loud about little matters, he said, "does not this confirm old meynell's[ ] observation--_for any thing i see, foreigners are fools_[ ]."' 'he said, that once, when he had a violent tooth-ach, a frenchman accosted him thus:--_ah, monsieur vous etudiez trop_[ ].' 'having spent an evening at mr. langton's with the reverend dr. parr, he was much pleased with the conversation of that learned gentleman; and after he was gone, said to mr. langton, "sir, i am obliged to you for having asked me this evening. parr is a fair man. i do not know when i have had an occasion of such free controversy. it is remarkable how much of a man's life may pass without meeting with any instance of this kind of open discussion[ ]."' 'we may fairly institute a criticism between shakspeare and corneille[ ], as they both had, though in a different degree, the lights of a latter age. it is not so just between the greek dramatick writers and shakspeare. it may be replied to what is said by one of the remarkers on shakspeare, that though darius's shade[ ] had _prescience_, it does not necessarily follow that he had all _past_ particulars revealed to him.' 'spanish plays, being wildly and improbably farcical, would please children here, as children are entertained with stories full of prodigies; their experience not being sufficient to cause them to be so readily startled at deviations from the natural course of life[ ]. the machinery of the pagans is uninteresting to us[ ]: when a goddess appears in homer or virgil, we grow weary; still more so in the grecian tragedies, as in that kind of composition a nearer approach to nature is intended. yet there are good reasons for reading romances; as--the fertility of invention, the beauty of style and expression, the curiosity of seeing with what kind of performances the age and country in which they were written was delighted: for it is to be apprehended, that at the time when very wild improbable tales were well received, the people were in a barbarous state, and so on the footing of children, as has been explained.' 'it is evident enough that no one who writes now can use the pagan deities and mythology; the only machinery, therefore, seems that of ministering spirits, the ghosts of the departed, witches[ ], and fairies, though these latter, as the vulgar superstition concerning them (which, while in its force, infected at least the imagination of those that had more advantage in education, though their reason set them free from it,) is every day wearing out, seem likely to be of little further assistance in the machinery of poetry. as i recollect, hammond introduces a hag or witch into one of his love elegies, where the effect is unmeaning and disgusting[ ].' 'the man who uses his talent of ridicule in creating or grossly exaggerating the instances he gives, who imputes absurdities that did not happen, or when a man was a little ridiculous describes him as having been very much so, abuses his talents greatly. the great use of delineating absurdities is, that we may know how far human folly can go; the account, therefore, ought of absolute necessity to be faithful. a certain character (naming the person) as to the general cast of it, is well described by garrick, but a great deal of the phraseology he uses in it, is quite his own, particularly in the proverbial comparisons, "obstinate as a pig," &c., but i don't know whether it might not be true of lord ------[ ], that from a too great eagerness of praise and popularity, and a politeness carried to a ridiculous excess, he was likely, after asserting a thing in general, to give it up again in parts. for instance, if he had said reynolds was the first of painters, he was capable enough of giving up, as objections might happen to be severally made, first his outline,--then the grace in form,--then the colouring,--and lastly, to have owned that he was such a mannerist, that the disposition of his pictures was all alike.' 'for hospitality, as formerly practised, there is no longer the same reason; heretofore the poorer people were more numerous, and from want of commerce, their means of getting a livelihood more difficult; therefore the supporting them was an act of great benevolence; now that the poor can find maintenance for themselves, and their labour is wanted, a general undiscerning hospitality tends to ill, by withdrawing them from their work to idleness and drunkenness. then, formerly rents were received in kind, so that there was a great abundance of provisions in possession of the owners of the lands, which, since the plenty of money afforded by commerce, is no longer the case.' 'hospitality to strangers and foreigners in our country is now almost at an end, since, from the increase of them that come to us, there have been a sufficient number of people that have found an interest in providing inns and proper accommodations, which is in general a more expedient method for the entertainment of travellers. where the travellers and strangers are few, more of that hospitality subsists, as it has not been worth while to provide places of accommodation. in ireland there is still hospitality to strangers, in some degree; in hungary and poland probably more.' 'colman, in a note on his translation of _terence_, talking of shakspeare's learning, asks, "what says farmer to this? what says johnson[ ]?" upon this he observed, "sir, let farmer answer for himself: _i_ never engaged in this controversy. i always said, shakspeare had latin enough to grammaticise his english[ ]."' 'a clergyman, whom he characterised as one who loved to say little oddities, was affecting one day, at a bishop's table, a sort of slyness and freedom not in character, and repeated, as if part of _the old mans wish_, a song by dr. walter pope, a verse bordering on licentiousness. johnson rebuked him in the finest manner, by first shewing him that he did not know the passage he was aiming at, and thus humbling him: "sir, that is not the song: it is thus." and he gave it right. then looking stedfastly on him, "sir, there is a part of that song which i should wish to exemplify in my own life:-- "may i govern my passions with absolute sway[ ]!"' 'being asked if barnes knew a good deal of greek, he answered, "i doubt, sir, he was _unoculus inter caecos[ ]_."' 'he used frequently to observe, that men might be very eminent in a profession, without our perceiving any particular power of mind in them in conversation. "it seems strange (said he) that a man should see so far to the right, who sees so short a way to the left. burke is the only man whose common conversation corresponds with the general fame which he has in the world. take up whatever topick you please, he is ready to meet you[ ]."' 'a gentleman, by no means deficient in literature, having discovered less acquaintance with one of the classicks than johnson expected, when the gentleman left the room, he observed, "you see, now, how little any body reads." mr. langton happening to mention his having read a good deal in clenardus's _greek grammar_, "why, sir, (said he,) who is there in this town who knows any thing of clenardus but you and i?" and upon mr. langton's mentioning that he had taken the pains to learn by heart the epistle of st. basil, which is given in that grammar as a praxis, "sir, (said he,) i never made such an effort to attain greek[ ]."' 'of dodsley's _publick virtue, a poem_, he said, "it was fine _blank_ (meaning to express his usual contempt for blank verse[ ]); however, this miserable poem did not sell, and my poor friend doddy said, publick virtue was not a subject to interest the age."' 'mr. langton, when a very young man, read dodsley's _cleone a tragedy_[ ], to him, not aware of his extreme impatience to be read to. as it went on he turned his face to the back of his chair, and put himself into various attitudes, which marked his uneasiness. at the end of an act, however, he said, "come let's have some more, let's go into the slaughter-house again, lanky. but i am afraid there is more blood than brains." yet he afterwards said, "when i heard you read it, i thought higher of its power of language: when i read it myself, i was more sensible of its pathetick effect;" and then he paid it a compliment which many will think very extravagant. "sir, (said he,) if otway had written this play, no other of his pieces would have been remembered." dodsley himself, upon this being repeated to him, said, "it was too much:" it must be remembered, that johnson always appeared not to be sufficiently sensible of the merit of otway[ ].' 'snatches of reading (said he) will not make a bentley or a clarke. they are, however, in a certain degree advantageous. i would put a child into a library (where no unfit books are) and let him read at his choice. a child should not be discouraged from reading any thing that he takes a liking to, from a notion that it is above his reach. if that be the case, the child will soon find it out and desist; if not, he of course gains the instruction; which is so much the more likely to come, from the inclination with which he takes up the study[ ].' 'though he used to censure carelessness with great vehemence, he owned, that he once, to avoid the trouble of locking up five guineas, hid them, he forgot where, so that he could not find them.' 'a gentleman who introduced his brother to dr. johnson was earnest to recommend him to the doctor's notice, which he did by saying, "when we have sat together some time, you'll find my brother grow very entertaining."--"sir, (said johnson,) i can wait."' 'when the rumour was strong that we should have a war, because the french would assist the americans, he rebuked a friend with some asperity for supposing it, saying, "no, sir, national faith is not yet sunk so low."' 'in the latter part of his life, in order to satisfy himself whether his mental faculties were impaired, he resolved that he would try to learn a new language, and fixed upon the low dutch, for that purpose, and this he continued till he had read about one half of _thomas à kempis_; and finding that there appeared no abatement of his power of acquisition, he then desisted, as thinking the experiment had been duly tried[ ]. mr. burke justly observed, that this was not the most vigorous trial, low dutch being a language so near to our own; had it been one of the languages entirely different, he might have been very soon satisfied.' 'mr. langton and he having gone to see a freemason's funeral procession, when they were at rochester[ ], and some solemn musick being played on french horns, he said, "this is the first time that i have ever been affected by musical sounds;" adding, "that the impression made upon him was of a melancholy kind." mr. langton saying, that this effect was a fine one,--johnson. "yes, if it softens the mind, so as to prepare it for the reception of salutary feelings, it may be good: but inasmuch as it is melancholy _per se_, it is bad[ ]."' 'goldsmith had long a visionary project, that some time or other when his circumstances should be easier, he would go to aleppo, in order to acquire a knowledge as far as might be of any arts peculiar to the east, and introduce them into britain. when this was talked of in dr. johnson's company, he said, "of all men goldsmith is the most unfit to go out upon such an inquiry; for he is utterly ignorant of such arts as we already possess, and consequently could not know what would be accessions to our present stock of mechanical knowledge. sir, he would bring home a grinding barrow, which you see in every street in london, and think that he had furnished a wonderful improvement[ ]."' 'greek, sir, (said he,) is like lace; every man gets as much of it as he can[ ].' 'when lord charles hay[ ], after his return from america, was preparing his defence to be offered to the court-martial which he had demanded, having heard mr. langton as high in expressions of admiration of johnson, as he usually was, he requested that dr. johnson might be introduced to him; and mr. langton having mentioned it to johnson, he very kindly and readily agreed; and being presented by mr. langton to his lordship, while under arrest, he saw him several times; upon one of which occasions lord charles read to him what he had prepared, which johnson signified his approbation of, saying, "it is a very good soldierly defence." johnson said, that he had advised his lordship, that as it was in vain to contend with those who were in possession of power, if they would offer him the rank of lieutenant-general, and a government, it would be better judged to desist from urging his complaints. it is well known that his lordship died before the sentence was made known.' 'johnson one day gave high praise to dr. bentley's verses[ ] in dodsley's _collection_, which he recited with his usual energy. dr. adam smith, who was present, observed in his decisive professorial manner, "very well--very well." johnson however added, "yes, they _are_ very well, sir; but you may observe in what manner they are well. they are the forcible verses of a man of a strong mind, but not accustomed to write verse[ ]; for there is some uncouthness in the expression[ ]."' 'drinking tea one day at garrick's with mr. langton, he was questioned if he was not somewhat of a heretick as to shakspeare; said garrick, "i doubt he is a little of an infidel[ ]."--"sir, (said johnson) i will stand by the lines i have written on shakspeare in my prologue at the opening of your theatre[ ]." mr. langton suggested, that in the line "and panting time toil'd after him in vain," johnson might have had in his eye the passage in _the tempest_, where prospero says of miranda, "-------she will outstrip all praise, and make it halt behind her[ ]." johnson said nothing. garrick then ventured to observe, "i do not think that the happiest line in the praise of shakspeare." johnson exclaimed (smiling,) "prosaical rogues! next time i write, i'll make both time and space pant[ ]."' 'it is well known that there was formerly a rude custom for those who were sailing upon the thames, to accost each other as they passed, in the most abusive language they could invent, generally, however, with as much satirical humour as they were capable of producing. addison gives a specimen of this ribaldry, in number of _the spectator_, when sir roger de coverly and he are going to spring-garden[ ]. johnson was once eminently successful in this species of contest; a fellow having attacked him with some coarse raillery, johnson answered him thus, "sir, your wife, _under pretence of keeping a bawdy-house_, is a receiver of stolen goods[ ]." one evening when he and mr. burke and mr. langton were in company together, and the admirable scolding of timon of athens was mentioned, this instance of johnson's was quoted, and thought to have at least equal excellence.' 'as johnson always allowed the extraordinary talents of mr. burke, so mr. burke was fully sensible of the wonderful powers of johnson. mr. langton recollects having passed an evening with both of them, when mr. burke repeatedly entered upon topicks which it was evident he would have illustrated with extensive knowledge and richness of expression; but johnson always seized upon the conversation, in which, however, he acquitted himself in a most masterly manner. as mr. burke and mr. langton were walking home, mr. burke observed that johnson had been very great that night; mr. langton joined in this, but added, he could have wished to hear more from another person; (plainly intimating that he meant mr. burke.) "o, no (said mr. burke) it is enough for me to have rung the bell to him[ ]."' 'beauclerk having observed to him of one of their friends, that he was aukward at counting money, "why, sir, said johnson, i am likewise aukward at counting money. but then, sir, the reason is plain; i have had very little money to count."' 'he had an abhorrence of affectation[ ]. talking of old mr. langton, of whom he said, "sir, you will seldom see such a gentleman, such are his stores of literature, such his knowledge in divinity, and such his exemplary life;" he added, "and sir, he has no grimace, no gesticulation, no bursts of admiration on trivial occasions; he never embraces you with an overacted cordiality[ ]."' 'being in company with a gentleman who thought fit to maintain dr. berkeley's ingenious philosophy, that nothing exists but as perceived by some mind[ ]; when the gentleman was going away, johnson said to him, "pray, sir, don't leave us; for we may perhaps forget to think of you, and then you will cease to exist[ ]."' 'goldsmith, upon being visited by johnson one day in the temple, said to him with a little jealousy of the appearance of his accommodation, "i shall soon be in better chambers than these." johnson at the same time checked him and paid him a handsome compliment, implying that a man of his talents should be above attention to such distinctions,--'nay, sir, never mind that. _nil te quaesiveris extra_[ ].' 'at the time when his pension was granted to him, he said, with a noble literary ambition, "had this happened twenty years years ago, i should have gone to constantinople to learn arabick, as pococke did[ ]."' 'as an instance of the niceness of his taste, though he praised west's translation of pindar, he pointed out the following passage as faulty, by expressing a circumstance so minute as to detract from the general dignity which should prevail: "down then from thy glittering nail, take, o muse, thy dorian _lyre_[ ].'" 'when mr. vesey[ ] was proposed as a member of the literary club, mr. burke began by saying that he was a man of gentle manners. "sir, said johnson, you need say no more. when you have said a man of gentle manners; you have said enough."' 'the late mr. fitzherbert[ ] told mr. langton that johnson said to him, "sir, a man has no more right to _say_ an uncivil thing, than to _act_ one; no more right to say a rude thing to another than to knock him down."' 'my dear friend dr. bathurst[ ], (said he with a warmth of approbation) declared he was glad that his father, who was a west-indian planter, had left his affairs in total ruin, because having no estate, he was not under the temptation of having slaves.' 'richardson had little conversation[ ], except about his own works, of which sir joshua reynolds said he was always willing to talk, and glad to have them introduced. johnson when he carried mr. langton to see him, professed that he could bring him out into conversation, and used this allusive expression, "sir, i can make him _rear._" but he failed; for in that interview richardson said little else than that there lay in the room a translation of his _clarissa_ into german[ ].' 'once when somebody produced a newspaper in which there was a letter of stupid abuse of sir joshua reynolds, of which johnson himself came in for a share,--"pray," said he, "let us have it read aloud from beginning to end;" which being done, he with a ludicrous earnestness, and not directing his look to any particular person, called out, "are we alive after all this satire!"' 'he had a strong prejudice against the political character of seeker[ ], one instance of which appeared at oxford, where he expressed great dissatisfaction at his varying the old established toast, "church and king." "the archbishop of canterbury, said he (with an affected smooth smiling grimace) drinks,' constitution in church and state.'" being asked what difference there was between the two toasts, he said, "why, sir, you may be sure he meant something." yet when the life of that prelate, prefixed to his sermons by dr. porteus and dr. stinton his chaplains, first came out, he read it with the utmost avidity, and said, "it is a life well written, and that well deserves to be recorded."' 'of a certain noble lord, he said, "respect him, you could not; for he had no mind of his own. love him you could not; for that which you could do with him, every one else could[ ]."' 'of dr. goldsmith he said, "no man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had[ ]."' 'he told in his lively manner the following literary anecdote: "green and guthrie[ ], an irishman and a scotchman, undertook a translation of duhalde's _history of china_. green said of guthrie, that he knew no english, and guthrie of green, that he knew no french; and these two undertook to translate duhalde's _history of china_. in this translation there was found 'the twenty-sixth day of the new moon.' now as the whole age of the moon is but twenty-eight days, the moon instead of being new, was nearly as old as it could be. their blunder arose from their mistaking the word _neuvième_ ninth, for _nouvelle_ or _neuve_, new."' 'talking of dr. blagden's copiousness and precision of communication, dr. johnson said, "blagden, sir, is a delightful fellow[ ]."' 'on occasion of dr. johnson's publishing his pamphlet of _the false alarm_[ ], there came out a very angry answer (by many supposed to be by mr. wilkes). dr. johnson determined on not answering it; but, in conversation with mr. langton, mentioned a particular or two, which if he _had_ replied to it, he might perhaps have inserted. in the answerer's pamphlet, it had been said with solemnity, "do you consider, sir, that a house of commons is to the people as a creature is to its creator[ ]?" to this question, said dr. johnson, i could have replied, that--in the first place--the idea of a creator must be such as that he has a power to unmake or annihilate his creature.' 'then it cannot be conceived that a creature can make laws for its creator[ ].' 'depend upon it, said he, that if a man _talks_ of his misfortunes, there is something in them that is not disagreeable to him; for where there is nothing but pure misery, there never is any recourse to the mention of it[ ].' 'a man must be a poor beast that should _read_ no more in quantity than he could _utter_ aloud.' 'imlac in _rasselas_, i spelt with a _c_ at the end, because it is less like english, which should always have the saxon _k_ added to the _c_[ ].' 'many a man is mad in certain instances, and goes through life without having it perceived[ ]: for example, a madness has seized a person of supposing himself obliged literally to pray continually[ ]--had the madness turned the opposite way and the person thought it a crime ever to pray, it might not improbably have continued unobserved.' 'he apprehended that the delineation of _characters_ in the end of the first book of the _retreat of the ten thousand_ was the first instance of the kind that was known.' 'supposing (said he) a wife to be of a studious or argumentative turn, it would be very troublesome[ ]: for instance,--if a woman should continually dwell upon the subject of the arian heresy.' 'no man speaks concerning another, even suppose it be in his praise, if he thinks he does not hear him, exactly as he would, if he thought he was within hearing.' 'the applause of a single human being is of great consequence[ ]: this he said to me with great earnestness of manner, very near the time of his decease, on occasion of having desired me to read a letter addressed to him from some person in the north of england; which when i had done, and he asked me what the contents were, as i thought being particular upon it might fatigue him, it being of great length, i only told him in general that it was highly in his praise;--and then he expressed himself as above.' 'he mentioned with an air of satisfaction what baretti had told him; that, meeting, in the course of his studying english, with an excellent paper in the _spectator_, one of four[ ] that were written by the respectable dissenting minister, mr. grove of taunton, and observing the genius and energy of mind that it exhibits, it greatly quickened his curiosity to visit our country; as he thought if such were the lighter periodical essays of our authours, their productions on more weighty occasions must be wonderful indeed!' 'he observed once, at sir joshua reynolds's, that a beggar in the street will more readily ask alms from a _man_, though there should be no marks of wealth in his appearance, than from even a well-dressed woman[ ]; which he accounted for from the greater degree of carefulness as to money that is to be found in women; saying farther upon it, that the opportunities in general that they possess of improving their condition are much fewer than men have; and adding, as he looked round the company, which consisted of men only,--there is not one of us who does not think he might be richer if he would use his endeavour.' 'he thus characterised an ingenious writer of his acquaintance: "sir, he is an enthusiast by rule[ ]."' '_he may hold up that shield against all his enemies_;'--was an observation on homer, in reference to his description of the shield of achilles, made by mrs. fitzherbert, wife to his friend mr. fitzherbert of derbyshire, and respected by dr. johnson as a very fine one[ ]. he had in general a very high opinion of that lady's understanding.' 'an observation of bathurst's may be mentioned, which johnson repeated, appearing to acknowledge it to be well founded, namely, it was somewhat remarkable how seldom, on occasion of coming into the company of any new person, one felt any wish or inclination to see him again[ ].' this year the reverend dr. franklin[ ] having published a translation of _lucian_, inscribed to him the _demonax_ thus:-- 'to dr. samuel johnson, the demonax of the present age, this piece is inscribed by a sincere admirer of his respectable[ ] talents, 'the translator.' though upon a particular comparison of demonax and johnson, there does not seem to be a great deal of similarity between them, this dedication is a just compliment from the general character given by lucian of the ancient sage, '[greek: ariston on oida ego philosophon genomenon], the best philosopher whom i have ever seen or known.' : aetat. .--in johnson at last completed his _lives of the poets_, of which he gives this account: 'some time in march i finished the _lives of the poets_, which i wrote in my usual way, dilatorily and hastily, unwilling to work, and working with vigour and haste[ ].' in a memorandum previous to this, he says of them: 'written, i hope, in such a manner as may tend to the promotion of piety[ ].' this is the work which of all dr. johnson's writings will perhaps be read most generally, and with most pleasure. philology and biography[ ] were his favourite pursuits, and those who lived most in intimacy with him, heard him upon all occasions, when there was a proper opportunity, take delight in expatiating upon the various merits of the english poets: upon the niceties of their characters, and the events of their progress through the world which they contributed to illuminate. his mind was so full of that kind of information, and it was so well arranged in his memory, that in performing what he had undertaken in this way, he had little more to do than to put his thoughts upon paper, exhibiting first each poet's life, and then subjoining a critical examination of his genius and works. but when he began to write, the subject swelled in such a manner, that instead of prefaces to each poet, of no more than a few pages, as he had originally intended[ ], he produced an ample, rich, and most entertaining view of them in every respect. in this he resembled quintilian, who tells us, that in the composition of his _institutions of oratory[ ], latiùs se tamen aperiente materiâ, plus quàm imponebatur oneris sponte suscepi._ the booksellers, justly sensible of the great additional value of the copy-right, presented him with another hundred pounds, over and above two hundred, for which his agreement was to furnish such prefaces as he thought fit[ ]. this was, however, but a small recompense for such a collection of biography, and such principles and illustrations of criticism, as, if digested and arranged in one system, by some modern aristotle or longinus, might form a code upon that subject, such as no other nation can shew. as he was so good as to make me a present of the greatest part of the original and indeed only[ ] manuscript of this admirable work, i have an opportunity of observing with wonder, the correctness with which he rapidly struck off such glowing composition. he may be assimilated to the lady in waller, who could impress with 'love at first sight:' 'some other nymphs with colours faint, and pencil slow may cupid paint, and a weak heart in time destroy; she has a stamp, and prints the boy[ ].' that he, however, had a good deal of trouble, and some anxiety in carrying on the work[ ], we see from a series of letters to mr. nichols the printer[ ], whose variety of literary inquiry and obliging disposition, rendered him useful to johnson. mr. steevens appears, from the papers in my possession, to have supplied him with some anecdotes and quotations; and i observe the fair hand of mrs. thrale as one of his copyists of select passages. but he was principally indebted to my steady friend mr. isaac reed, of staple-inn, whose extensive and accurate knowledge of english literary history i do not express with exaggeration, when i say it is wonderful; indeed his labours[ ] have proved it to the world; and all who have the pleasure of his acquaintance can bear testimony to the frankness of his communications in private society. it is not my intention to dwell upon each of johnson's _lives of the poets_, or attempt an analysis of their merits, which, were i able to do it, would take up too much room in this work; yet i shall make a few observations upon some of them, and insert a few various readings. the life of cowley he himself considered as the best of the whole, on account of the dissertation which it contains on the _metaphysical poets_. dryden, whose critical abilities were equal to his poetical, had mentioned them in his excellent dedication of his juvenal, but had barely mentioned them[ ]. johnson has exhibited them at large, with such happy illustration from their writings, and in so luminous a manner, that indeed he may be allowed the full merit of novelty, and to have discovered to us, as it were, a new planet in the poetical hemisphere[ ]. it is remarked by johnson, in considering the works of a poet[ ], that 'amendments are seldom made without some token of a rent;' but i do not find that this is applicable to prose[ ]. we shall see that though his amendments in this work are for the better, there is nothing of the _pannus assutus_[ ]; the texture is uniform: and indeed, what had been there at first, is very seldom unfit to have remained. _various readings[ ] in the life of cowley._ 'all [future votaries of] _that may hereafter pant for_ solitude. 'to conceive and execute the [agitation or perception] _pains and the pleasures_ of other minds. 'the wide effulgence of [the blazing] a _summer_ noon.' in the life of waller, johnson gives a distinct and animated narrative of publick affairs in that variegated period, with strong yet nice touches of character; and having a fair opportunity to display his political principles, does it with an unqualified manly confidence, and satisfies his readers how nobly he might have executed a _tory history_ of his country. so easy is his style in these lives, that i do not recollect more than three uncommon or learned words[ ]; one, when giving an account of the approach of waller's mortal disease, he says, 'he found his legs grow _tumid_;' by using the expression his legs _swelled_, he would have avoided this; and there would have been no impropriety in its being followed by the interesting question to his physician, 'what that _swelling_ meant?' another, when he mentions that pope had _emitted_ proposals; when _published_ or _issued_ would have been more readily understood; and a third, when he calls orrery and dr. delany[ ], writers both undoubtedly _veracious_[ ], when _true, honest_, or _faithful_, might have been used. yet, it must be owned, that none of these are _hard_ or _too big_ words; that custom would make them seem as easy as any others; and that a language is richer and capable of more beauty of expression, by having a greater variety of synonimes. his dissertation[ ] upon the unfitness of poetry for the aweful subjects of our holy religion, though i do not entirely agree with with him, has all the merit of originality, with uncommon force and reasoning. _various readings in the life of_ waller. 'consented to [the insertion of their names] _their own nomination_. '[after] _paying_ a fine of ten thousand pounds. 'congratulating charles the second on his [coronation] _recovered right_. 'he that has flattery ready for all whom the vicissitudes of the world happen to exalt, must be [confessed to degrade his powers] _scorned as a prostituted mind_. 'the characters by which waller intended to distinguish his writings are [elegance] _sprightliness_ and dignity. 'blossoms to be valued only as they [fetch] _foretell_ fruits. 'images such as the superficies of nature [easily] _readily_ supplies. '[his] some applications [are sometimes] _may be thought_ too remote and unconsequential. 'his images are [sometimes confused] _not always distinct_? against his life of milton, the hounds of whiggism have opened in full cry[ ]. but of milton's great excellence as a poet, where shall we find such a blazon as by the hand of johnson? i shall select only the following passage concerning _paradise lost_[ ]: 'fancy can hardly forbear to conjecture with what temper milton surveyed the silent progress of his work, and marked his reputation stealing its way in a kind of subterraneous current, through fear and silence. i cannot but conceive him calm and confident, little disappointed, not at all dejected, relying on his own merit with steady consciousness, and waiting without impatience the vicissitudes of opinion, and the impartiality of a future generation[ ].' indeed even dr. towers, who may be considered as one of the warmest zealots of _the revolution society_[ ] itself, allows, that 'johnson has spoken in the highest terms of the abilities of that great poet, and has bestowed on his principal poetical compositions the most honourable encomiums[ ].' that a man, who venerated the church and monarchy as johnson did, should speak with a just abhorrence of milton as a politician, or rather as a daring foe to good polity, was surely to be expected; and to those who censure him, i would recommend his commentary on milton's celebrated complaint of his situation, when by the lenity of charles the second, 'a lenity of which (as johnson well observes) the world has had perhaps no other example, he, who had written in justification of the murder of his sovereign, was safe under an act of oblivion[ ].' 'no sooner is he safe than he finds himself in danger, _fallen on evil days and evil tongues_, [and] _with darkness and with danger compassed round_[ ]. this darkness, had his eyes been better employed, had undoubtedly deserved compassion; but to add the mention of danger, was ungrateful and unjust. he was fallen, indeed, on _evil days_; the time was come in which regicides could no longer boast their wickedness. but of _evil tongues_ for milton to complain, required impudence at least equal to his other powers; milton, whose warmest advocates must allow, that he never spared any asperity of reproach, or brutality of insolence[ ].' i have, indeed, often wondered how milton, 'an acrimonious and surly republican[ ],'--'a man who in his domestick relations was so severe and arbitrary[ ],' and whose head was filled with the hardest and most dismal tenets of calvinism[ ], should have been such a poet; should not only have written with sublimity, but with beauty, and even gaiety; should have exquisitely painted the sweetest sensations of which our nature is capable; imaged the delicate raptures of connubial love; nay, seemed to be animated with all the spirit of revelry. it is a proof that in the human mind the departments of judgement and imagination, perception and temper, may sometimes be divided by strong partitions; and that the light and shade in the same character may be kept so distinct as never to be blended[ ]. in the life of milton, johnson took occasion to maintain his own and the general opinion of the excellence of rhyme over blank verse, in english poetry[ ]; and quotes this apposite illustration of it by 'an ingenious critick,' that _it seems to be verse only to the eye_[ ]. the gentleman whom he thus characterises, is (as he told mr. seward) mr. lock[ ], of norbury park, in surrey, whose knowledge and taste in the fine arts is universally celebrated; with whose elegance of manners the writer of the present work has felt himself much impressed, and to whose virtues a common friend, who has known him long, and is not much addicted to flattery, gives the highest testimony. _various readings in the life of_ milton. 'i cannot find any meaning but this which [his most bigotted advocates] _even kindness and reverence_ can give. '[perhaps no] _scarcely any_ man ever wrote so much, and praised so few. 'a certain [rescue] _perservative_ from oblivion. 'let me not be censured for this digression, as [contracted] _pedantick_ or paradoxical. 'socrates rather was of opinion, that what we had to learn was how to [obtain and communicate happiness] _do good and avoid evil_. 'its elegance [who can exhibit?] _is less attainable._' i could, with pleasure, expatiate upon the masterly execution of the life of dryden, which we have seen[ ] was one of johnson's literary projects at an early period, and which it is remarkable, that after desisting from it, from a supposed scantiness of materials, he should, at an advanced age, have exhibited so amply. his defence[ ] of that great poet against the illiberal attacks upon him, as if his embracing the roman catholick communion had been a time-serving measure, is a piece of reasoning at once able and candid. indeed, dryden himself, in his _hind and panther_, has given such a picture of his mind, that they who know the anxiety for repose as to the aweful subject of our state beyond the grave, though they may think his opinion ill-founded, must think charitably of his sentiment:-- 'but, gracious god, how well dost thou provide for erring judgements an unerring guide! thy throne is darkness in the abyss of light, a blaze of glory that forbids the sight. o! teach me to believe thee thus conceal'd, and search no farther than thyself reveal'd; but her alone for my director take, whom thou hast promis'd never to forsake. my thoughtless youth was wing'd with vain desires; my manhood long misled by wand'ring fires, follow'd false lights; and when their glimpse was gone, my pride struck out new sparkles of her own. such was i, such by nature still i am; be thine the glory, and be mine the shame. good life be now my task: my doubts are done; what more could shock[ ] my faith than three in one?' in drawing dryden's character, johnson has given, though i suppose unintentionally, some touches of his own. thus:--'the power that predominated in his intellectual operations was rather strong reason than quick sensibility. upon all occasions that were presented, he studied rather than felt; and produced sentiments not such as nature enforces, but meditation supplies. with the simple and elemental passions as they spring separate in the mind, he seems not much acquainted. he is, therefore, with all his variety of excellence, not often pathetick; and had so little sensibility of the power of effusions purely natural, that he did not esteem them in others[ ].' it may indeed be observed, that in all the numerous writings of johnson, whether in prose or verse, and even in his tragedy, of which the subject is the distress of an unfortunate princess, there is not a single passage that ever drew a tear[ ]. _various readings in the life of_ dryden. 'the reason of this general perusal, addison has attempted to [find in] _derive from_ the delight which the mind feels in the investigation of secrets. 'his best actions are but [convenient] _inability of_ wickedness. 'when once he had engaged himself in disputation, [matter] _thoughts_ flowed in on either side. 'the abyss of an un-ideal [emptiness] _vacancy_. 'these, like [many other harlots,] _the harlots of other men_, had his love though not his approbation. 'he [sometimes displays] _descends to display_ his knowledge with pedantick ostentation. 'french words which [were then used in] _had then crept into_ conversation.' the life of pope[ ] was written by johnson _con amore_, both from the early possession which that writer had taken of his mind, and from the pleasure which he must have felt, in for ever silencing all attempts to lessen his poetical fame, by demonstrating his excellence, and pronouncing the following triumphant eulogium[ ]:--'after all this, it is surely superfluous to answer the question that has once been asked, whether pope was a poet? otherwise than by asking in return, if pope be not a poet, where is poetry to be found? to circumscribe poetry by a definition, will only shew the narrowness of the definer; though a definition which shall exclude pope will not easily be made. let us look round upon the present time, and back upon the past; let us enquire to whom the voice of mankind has decreed the wreath of poetry; let their productions be examined, and their claims stated, and the pretensions of pope will be no more disputed.' i remember once to have heard johnson say, 'sir, a thousand years may elapse before there shall appear another man with a power of versification equal to that of pope.' that power must undoubtedly be allowed its due share in enhancing the value of his captivating composition. johnson, who had done liberal justice to warburton in his edition of _shakspeare_[ ], which was published during the life of that powerful writer, with still greater liberality[ ] took an opportunity, in the life of pope, of paying the tribute due to him when he was no longer in 'high place,' but numbered with the dead[ ]. it seems strange, that two such men as johnson and warburton, who lived in the same age and country, should not only not have been in any degree of intimacy, but been almost personally unacquainted. but such instances, though we must wonder at them, are not rare. if i am rightly informed, after a careful enquiry, they never met but once, which was at the house of mrs. french, in london, well known for her elegant assemblies, and bringing eminent characters together. the interview proved to be mutually agreeable[ ]. i am well informed, that warburton said of johnson, 'i admire him, but i cannot bear his style:' and that johnson being told of this, said, 'that is exactly my case as to him[ ].' the manner in which he expressed his admiration of the fertility of warburton's genius and of the variety of his materials was, 'the table is always full, sir. he brings things from the north, and the south, and from every quarter. in his _divine legation_, you are always entertained. he carries you round and round, without carrying you forward to the point; but then you have no wish to be carried forward.' he said to the reverend mr. strahan, 'warburton is perhaps the last man who has written with a mind full of reading and reflection[ ].' it is remarkable, that in the life of broome[ ], johnson takes notice of dr. warburton using a mode of expression which he himself used, and that not seldom, to the great offence of those who did not know him. having occasion to mention a note, stating the different parts which were executed by the associated translators of _the odyssey_, he says, 'dr. warburton told me, in his warm language, that he thought the relation given in the note _a lie_. the language is _warm_ indeed; and, i must own, cannot be justified in consistency with a decent regard to the established forms of speech. johnson had accustomed himself to use the word _lie_[ ], to express a mistake or an errour in relation; in short, when the _thing was not so as told_, though the relator did not _mean_ to deceive. when he thought there was intentional falsehood in the relator, his expression was, 'he _lies_, and he _knows_ he _lies_.' speaking of pope's not having been known to excel in conversation, johnson observes, that 'traditional memory retains no sallies of raillery, or[ ] sentences of observation; nothing either pointed or solid, wise or merry[ ]; and that one apophthegm only is recorded[ ].' in this respect, pope differed widely from johnson, whose conversation was, perhaps, more admirable than even his writings, however excellent. mr. wilkes has, however, favoured me with one repartee of pope, of which johnson was not informed. johnson, after justly censuring him for having 'nursed in his mind a foolish dis-esteem of kings,' tells us, 'yet a little regard shewn him by the prince of wales melted his obduracy; and he had not much to say when he was asked by his royal highness, _how he could love a prince, while he disliked kings_[ ]?' the answer which pope made, was, 'the young lion is harmless, and even playful; but when his claws are full grown he becomes cruel, dreadful, and mischievous.' but although we have no collection of pope's sayings, it is not therefore to be concluded, that he was not agreeable in social intercourse; for johnson has been heard to say, that 'the happiest conversation is that of which nothing is distinctly remembered but a general effect of pleasing impression.' the late lord somerville[ ], who saw much both of great and brilliant life, told me, that he had dined in company with pope, and that after dinner the _little man_, as he called him, drank his bottle of burgundy, and was exceedingly gay and entertaining. i cannot withhold from my great friend a censure of at least culpable inattention, to a nobleman, who, it has been shewn[ ], behaved to him with uncommon politeness. he says, 'except lord bathurst, none of pope's noble friends were such as that a good man would wish to have his intimacy with them known to posterity[ ].' this will not apply to lord mansfield, who was not ennobled in pope's life-time; but johnson should have recollected, that lord marchmont was one of those noble friends. he includes his lordship along with lord bolingbroke, in a charge of neglect of the papers which pope left by his will; when, in truth, as i myself pointed out to him, before he wrote that poet's life, the papers were 'committed to _the sole care and judgement_ of lord bolingbroke, unless he (lord bolingbroke) shall not survive me;' so that lord marchmont had no concern whatever with them[ ]. after the first edition of the _lives_, mr. malone, whose love of justice is equal to his accuracy, made, in my hearing, the same remark to johnson; yet he omitted to correct the erroneous statement[ ]. these particulars i mention, in the belief that there was only forgetfulness in my friend; but i owe this much to the earl of marchmont's reputation, who, were there no other memorials, will be immortalised by that line of pope, in the verses on his grotto: 'and the bright flame was shot through marchmont's soul.' _various readings in the life of pope._ '[somewhat free] _sufficiently bold_ in his criticism. 'all the gay [niceties] _varieties_ of diction. 'strikes the imagination with far [more] _greater_ force. 'it is [probably] _certainly_ the noblest version of poetry which the world has ever seen. 'every sheet enabled him to write the next with [less trouble] _more facility_. 'no man sympathizes with [vanity, depressed] _the sorrows of vanity_. 'it had been [criminal] _less easily excused_. 'when he [threatened to lay down] _talked of laying down_ his pen. 'society [is so named emphatically in opposition to] _politically regulated, is a state contra-distinguished from_ a state of nature. 'a fictitious life of an [absurd] _infatuated_ scholar. 'a foolish [contempt, disregard,] _disesteem_ of kings. 'his hopes and fears, his joys and sorrows [were like those of other mortals] _acted strongly upon his mind_. 'eager to pursue knowledge and attentive to [accumulate] _retain it_. 'a mind [excursive] _active_, ambitious, and adventurous. 'in its [noblest] _widest_ researches still longing to go forward. 'he wrote in such a manner as might expose him to few [neglects] _hazards_. 'the [reasonableness] _justice_ of my determination. 'a [favourite] _delicious_ employment of the poets. 'more terrifick and more powerful [beings] _phantoms_ perform on the stormy ocean. 'the inventor of [those] _this_ petty [beings] _nation_. 'the [mind] _heart_ naturally loves truth.' in the life of addison we find an unpleasing account of his having lent steele a hundred pounds, and 'reclaimed his loan by an execution[ ].' in the new edition of the _biographia britannica_, the authenticity of this anecdote is denied. but mr. malone has obliged me with the following note concerning it:-- 'many persons having doubts concerning this fact, i applied to dr. johnson to learn on what authority he asserted it. he told me, he had it from savage, who lived in intimacy with steele, and who mentioned, that steele told him the story with tears in his eyes.--ben victor[ ], dr. johnson said, likewise informed him of this remarkable transaction, from the relation of mr. wilkes[ ] the comedian, who was also an intimate of steele's.--some in defence of addison, have said, that "the act was done with the good natured view of rousing steele, and correcting that profusion which always made him necessitous."--"if that were the case, (said johnson,) and that he only wanted to alarm steele, he would afterwards have _returned_ the money to his friend, which it is not pretended he did."--"this too, (he added,) might be retorted by an advocate for steele, who might alledge, that he did not repay the loan _intentionally_, merely to see whether addison would be mean and ungenerous enough to make use of legal process to recover it. but of such speculations there is no end: we cannot dive into the hearts of men; but their actions are open to observation[ ]." 'i then mentioned to him that some people thought that mr. addison's character was so pure, that the fact, _though true_, ought to have been suppressed[ ]. he saw no reason for this[ ]. "if nothing but the bright side of characters should be shewn, we should sit down in despondency, and think it utterly impossible to imitate them in _any thing_. the sacred writers (he observed) related the vicious as well as the virtuous actions of men; which had this moral effect, that it kept mankind from _despair_, into which otherwise they would naturally fall, were they not supported by the recollection that others had offended like themselves, and by penitence and amendment of life had been restored to the favour of heaven." 'e.m.' 'march , .' the last paragraph of this note is of great importance; and i request that my readers may consider it with particular attention. it will be afterwards referred to in this work[ ]. _various readings in the life of_ addison. '[but he was our first great example] _he was, however, one of our earliest examples_ of correctness. and [overlook] _despise_ their masters. his instructions were such as the [state] _character_ of his [own time] _readers_ made [necessary] _proper_. his purpose was to [diffuse] _infuse_ literary curiosity by gentle and unsuspected conveyance [among] _into_ the gay, the idle, and the wealthy. framed rather for those that [wish] _are learning_ to write. domestick [manners] _scenes_.' in his life of parnell, i wonder that johnson omitted to insert an epitaph which he had long before composed for that amiable man, without ever writing it down, but which he was so good as, at my request, to dictate to me, by which means it has been preserved. '_hic requiescit_ thomas parnell, _s.t.p. qui sacerdos pariter et poeta, utrasque partes ita implevit, ut neque sacerdoti suavitas poetae, neo poetae sacerdotis sanctitas_[ ], _deesset_.' _various readings in the life of_ parnell. 'about three years [after] _afterwards_. [did not much want] _was in no great need of_ improvement. but his prosperity _did not last long_ [was clouded by that which took away all his powers of enjoying either profit or pleasure, the death of his wife, whom he is said to have lamented with such sorrow, as hastened his end[ ].] his end, whatever was the cause, was now approaching. in the hermit, the [composition] _narrative_, as it is less airy, is less pleasing.' in the life of blackmore, we find that writer's reputation generously cleared by johnson from the cloud of prejudice which the malignity of contemporary wits had raised around it[ ]. in this spirited exertion of justice, he has been imitated by sir joshua reynolds, in his praise of the architecture of vanburgh[ ]. we trace johnson's own character in his observations on blackmore's 'magnanimity as an authour.' 'the incessant attacks of his enemies, whether serious or merry, are never discovered to have disturbed his quiet, or to have lessened his confidence in himself.' johnson, i recollect, once told me, laughing heartily, that he understood it had been said of him, 'he _appears_ not to feel; but when he is _alone_, depend upon it, he _suffers sadly_.' i am as certain as i can be of any man's real sentiments, that he _enjoyed_ the perpetual shower of little hostile arrows as evidences of his fame. _various readings in the life of_ blackmore. to [set] _engage_ poetry [on the side] _in the cause_ of virtue. he likewise [established] _enforced_ the truth of revelation. [kindness] _benevolence_ was ashamed to favour. his practice, which was once [very extensive] _invidiously great_. there is scarcely any distemper of dreadful name [of] which he has not [shewn] _taught his reader_ how [it is to be opposed] _to oppose_. of this [contemptuous] _indecent_ arrogance. [he wrote] _but produced_ likewise a work of a different kind. at least [written] _compiled_ with integrity. faults which many tongues [were desirous] _would have made haste_ to publish. but though he [had not] _could not boast of_ much critical knowledge. he [used] _waited for_ no felicities of fancy. or had ever elevated his [mind] _views_ to that ideal perfection which every [mind] _genius_ born to excel is condemned always to pursue and never overtake. the [first great] _fundamental_ principle of wisdom and of virtue.' _various readings in the life of_ philips. 'his dreaded [rival] _antagonist_ pope. they [have not often much] _are not loaded with_ thought. in his translations from pindar, he [will not be denied to have reached] _found the art of reaching_ all the obscurity of the theban bard.' _various readings in the life of_ congreve. 'congreve's conversation must surely have been _at least_ equally pleasing with his writings. it apparently [requires] _pre-supposes_ a familiar knowledge of many characters. reciprocation of [similes] _conceits_. the dialogue is quick and [various] _sparkling_. love for love; a comedy [more drawn from life] _of nearer alliance to life_. the general character of his miscellanies is, that they shew little wit and [no] _little_ virtue. [perhaps] _certainly_ he had not the fire requisite for the higher species of lyrick poetry.' _various readings in the life of_ tickell. '[longed] _long wished_ to peruse it. at the [accession] _arrival_ of king george. fiction [unnaturally] _unskilfully_ compounded of grecian deities and gothick fairies.' _various readings in the life of_ akenside. 'for [another] _a different_ purpose. [a furious] _an unnecessary_ and outrageous zeal. [something which] _what_ he called and thought liberty. a [favourer of innovation] _lover of contradiction_. warburton's [censure] _objections_. his rage [for liberty] _of patriotism_. mr. dyson with [a zeal] _an ardour_ of friendship.' in the life of lyttelton, johnson seems to have been not favourably disposed towards that nobleman[ ]. mrs. thrale suggests that he was offended by _molly aston's_[ ] preference of his lordship to him[ ]. i can by no means join in the censure bestowed by johnson on his lordship, whom he calls 'poor lyttelton,' for returning thanks to the critical reviewers for having 'kindly commended' his _dialogues of the dead_. such 'acknowledgements (says my friend) never can be proper, since they must be paid either for flattery or for justice.' in my opinion, the most upright man, who has been tried on a false accusation, may, when he is acquitted, make a bow to his jury. and when those who are so much the arbiters of literary merit, as in a considerable degree to influence the publick opinion, review an authour's work, _placido lumine_[ ], when i am afraid mankind in general are better pleased with severity, he may surely express a grateful sense of their civility[ ]. _various readings in the life of_ lyttelton. 'he solaced [himself] _his grief_ by writing a long poem to her memory. the production rather [of a mind that means well than thinks vigorously] _as it seems of leisure than of study, rather effusions than compositions_. his last literary [work] _production_. [found the way] _undertook_ to persuade.' as the introduction to his critical examination of the genius and writings of young, he did mr. herbert croft[ ], then a barrister of lincoln's-inn, now a clergyman, the honour to adopt[ ] a _life of young_ written by that gentleman, who was the friend of dr. young's son, and wished to vindicate him from some very erroneous remarks to his prejudice. mr. croft's performance was subjected to the revision of dr. johnson, as appears from the following note to mr. john nichols[ ]:-- 'this _life of dr. young_ was written by a friend of his son. what is crossed with black is expunged by the authour, what is crossed with red is expunged by me. if you find any thing more that can be well omitted, i shall not be sorry to see it yet shorter[ ]' it has always appeared to me to have a considerable share of merit, and to display a pretty successful imitation of johnson's style. when i mentioned this to a very eminent literary character[ ], he opposed me vehemently, exclaiming, 'no, no, it is _not_ a good imitation of johnson; it has all his pomp without his force; it has all the nodosities of the oak without its strength.' this was an image so happy, that one might have thought he would have been satisfied with it; but he was not. and setting his mind again to work, he added, with exquisite felicity, 'it has all the contortions of the sybil, without the inspiration.' mr. croft very properly guards us against supposing that young was a gloomy man[ ]; and mentions, that 'his parish was indebted to the good-humour of the authour of the _night thoughts_ for an assembly and a bowling-green[ ].' a letter from a noble foreigner is quoted, in which he is said to have been 'very pleasant in conversation[ ].' mr. langton, who frequently visited him, informs me, that there was an air of benevolence in his manner, but that he could obtain from him less information than he had hoped to receive from one who had lived so much in intercourse with the brightest men of what has been called the augustan age of england; and that he shewed a degree of eager curiosity concerning the common occurrences that were then passing, which appeared somewhat remarkable in a man of such intellectual stores, of such an advanced age, and who had retired from life with declared disappointment in his expectations. an instance at once of his pensive turn of mind, and his cheerfulness of temper, appeared in a little story which he himself told to mr. langton, when they were walking in his garden: 'here (said he) i had put a handsome sun-dial, with this inscription, _eheu fugaces!_[ ] which (speaking with a smile) was sadly verified, for by the next morning my dial had been carried off.'[ ] 'it gives me much pleasure to observe, that however johnson may have casually talked,[ ] yet when he sits, as "an ardent judge zealous to his trust, giving sentence" [ ] upon the excellent works of young, he allows them the high praise to which they are justly entitled. "the _universal passion_ (says he) is indeed a very great performance,--his distichs have the weight of solid sentiment, and his points the sharpness of resistless truth."'[ ] but i was most anxious concerning johnson's decision upon _night thoughts_, which i esteem as a mass of the grandest and richest poetry that human genius has ever produced; and was delighted to find this character of that work: 'in his _night thoughts_, he has exhibited a very wide display of original poetry, variegated with deep reflections and striking allusions; a wilderness of thought, in which the fertility of fancy scatters flowers of every hue and of every odour. this is one of the few poems in which blank verse could not be changed for rhime but with disadvantage.'[ ] and afterwards, 'particular lines are not to be regarded; the power is in the whole; and in the whole there is a magnificence like that ascribed to chinese plantation[ ], the magnificence of vast extent and endless diversity.' but there is in this poem not only all that johnson so well brings in view, but a power of the _pathetick_ beyond almost any example that i have seen. he who does not feel his nerves shaken, and his heart pierced by many passages in this extraordinary work, particularly by that most affecting one, which describes the gradual torment suffered by the contemplation of an object of affectionate attachment, visibly and certainly decaying into dissolution, must be of a hard and obstinate frame[ ]. to all the other excellencies of _night thoughts_ let me add the great and peculiar one, that they contain not only the noblest sentiments of virtue, and contemplations on immortality, but the _christian sacrifice_, the _divine propitiation_, with all its interesting circumstances, and consolations to 'a wounded spirit[ ],' solemnly and poetically displayed in such imagery and language, as cannot fail to exalt, animate, and soothe the truly pious. no book whatever can be recommended to young persons, with better hopes of seasoning their minds with _vital religion_, than young's _night thoughts_. in the life of swift, it appears to me that johnson had a certain degree of prejudice against that extraordinary man, of which i have elsewhere had occasion to speak[ ]. mr. thomas sheridan imputed it to a supposed apprehension in johnson, that swift had not been sufficiently active in obtaining for him an irish degree when it was solicited[ ], but of this there was not sufficient evidence; and let me not presume to charge johnson with injustice, because he did not think so highly of the writings of this authour, as i have done from my youth upwards. yet that he had an unfavourable bias is evident, were it only from that passage in which he speaks of swift's practice of saving, as, 'first ridiculous and at last detestable;' and yet after some examination of circumstances, finds himself obliged to own, that 'it will perhaps appear that he only liked one mode of expence better than another, and saved merely that he might have something to give[ ].' one observation which johnson makes in swift's life should be often inculcated:-- 'it may be justly supposed, that there was in his conversation what appears so frequently in his letters, an affectation of familiarity with the great, an ambition of momentary equality, sought and enjoyed by the neglect of those ceremonies which custom has established as the barriers between one order of society and another. this transgression of regularity was by himself and his admirers termed greatness of soul; but a great mind disdains to hold any thing by courtesy, and therefore never usurps what a lawful claimant may take away. he that encroaches on another's dignity puts himself in his power; he is either repelled with helpless indignity, or endured by clemency and condescension[ ].' _various readings in the life of swift_. 'charity may be persuaded to think that it might be written by a man of _a_ peculiar [opinions] _character_, without ill intention. he did not [disown] _deny_ it. '[to] _by_ whose kindness it is not unlikely that he was [indebted for] _advanced to_ his benefices. [with] _for_ this purpose he had recourse to mr. harley. sharpe, whom he [represents] _describes_ as "the harmless tool of others' hate." harley was slow because he was [irresolute] _doubtful_. when [readers were not many] _we were not yet a nation of readers_. [every man who] _he that could say he_ knew him. every man of known influence has so many [more] petitions [than] _which_ he [can] _cannot_ grant, that he must necessarily offend more than he [can gratify] _gratifies_. ecclesiastical [preferments] _benefices_. 'swift [procured] _contrived_ an interview. [as a writer] _in his works_ he has given very different specimens. on all common occasions he habitually [assumes] _affects_ a style of [superiority] _arrogance_. by the [omission] _neglect_ of those ceremonies. that their merits filled the world [and] _or that_ there was no [room for] _hope of_ more.' i have not confined myself to the order of the _lives_, in making my few remarks. indeed a different order is observed in the original publication, and in the collection of johnson's _works_. and should it be objected, that many of my various readings are inconsiderable, those who make the objection will be pleased to consider, that such small particulars are intended for those who are nicely critical in composition, to whom they will be an acceptable selection[ ]. _spence's anecdotes_, which are frequently quoted and referred to in johnson's _lives of the poets_, are in a manuscript collection, made by the reverend mr. joseph spence[ ], containing a number of particulars concerning eminent men. to each anecdote is marked the name of the person on whose authority it is mentioned. this valuable collection is the property of the duke of newcastle, who upon the application of sir lucas pepys, was pleased to permit it to be put into the hands of dr. johnson, who i am sorry to think made but an aukward return. 'great assistance (says he) has been given me by mr. spence's collection, of which i consider the communication as a favour worthy of publick acknowledgement[ ];' but he has not owned to whom he was obliged; so that the acknowledgement is unappropriated to his grace. while the world in general was filled with admiration of johnson's _lives of the poets_, there were narrow circles in which prejudice and resentment were fostered, and from which attacks of different sorts issued against him[ ]. by some violent whigs he was arraigned of injustice to milton; by some cambridge men of depreciating gray; and his expressing with a dignified freedom what he really thought of george, lord lyttelton, gave offence to some of the friends of that nobleman, and particularly produced a declaration of war against him from mrs. montagu, the ingenious essayist on shakspeare, between whom and his lordship a commerce of reciprocal compliments had long been carried on[ ]. in this war the smaller powers in alliance with him were of course led to engage, at least on the defensive, and thus i for one was excluded from the enjoyment of 'a feast of reason,' such as mr. cumberland has described, with a keen, yet just and delicate pen, in his _observer_[ ]. these minute inconveniencies gave not the least disturbance to johnson. he nobly said, when i talked to him of the feeble, though shrill outcry which had been raised, 'sir, i considered myself as entrusted with a certain portion of truth. i have given my opinion sincerely; let them shew where they think me wrong[ ].' while my friend is thus contemplated in the splendour derived from his last and perhaps most admirable work, i introduce him with peculiar propriety as the correspondent of warren hastings! a man whose regard reflects dignity even upon johnson; a man, the extent of whose abilities was equal to that of his power; and who, by those who are fortunate enough to know him in private life, is admired for his literature and taste, and beloved for the candour, moderation, and mildness of his character. were i capable of paying a suitable tribute of admiration to him, i should certainly not withhold it at a moment[ ] when it is not possible that i should be suspected of being an interested flatterer. but how weak would be my voice after that of the millions whom he governed. his condescending and obliging compliance with my solicitation, i with humble gratitude acknowledge; and while by publishing his letter to me, accompanying the valuable communication, i do eminent honour to my great friend, i shall entirely disregard any invidious suggestions, that as i in some degree participate in the honour, i have, at the same time, the gratification of my own vanity in view. 'to james boswell, esq. park lane, dec. , . sir, i have been fortunately spared the troublesome suspense of a long search, to which, in performance of my promise, i had devoted this morning, by lighting upon the objects of it among the first papers that i laid my hands on: my veneration for your great and good friend, dr. johnson, and the pride, or i hope something of a better sentiment, which i indulged in possessing such memorials of his good will towards me, having induced me to bind them in a parcel containing other select papers, and labelled with the titles appertaining to them. they consist but of three letters, which i believe were all that i ever received from dr. johnson. of these, one, which was written in quadruplicate, under the different dates of its respective dispatches, has already been made publick[ ], but not from any communication of mine. this, however, i have joined to the rest; and have now the pleasure of sending them to you for the use to which you informed me it was your desire to destine them. 'my promise was pledged with the condition, that if the letters were found to contain any thing which should render them improper for the publick eye, you would dispense with the performance of it. you will have the goodness, i am sure, to pardon my recalling this stipulation to your recollection, as i should be both to appear negligent of that obligation which is always implied in an epistolary confidence. in the reservation of that right i have read them over with the most scrupulous attention, but have not seen in them the slightest cause on that ground to withhold them from you. but, though not on that, yet on another ground i own i feel a little, yet but a little, reluctance to part with them: i mean on that of my own credit, which i fear will suffer by the information conveyed by them, that i was early in the possession of such valuable instructions for the beneficial employment of the influence of my late station, and (as it may seem) have so little availed myself of them. whether i could, if it were necessary, defend myself against such an imputation, it little concerns the world to know. i look only to the effect which these relicks may produce, considered as evidences of the virtues of their authour: and believing that they will be found to display an uncommon warmth of private friendship, and a mind ever attentive to the improvement and extension of useful knowledge, and solicitous for the interests of mankind, i can cheerfully submit to the little sacrifice of my own fame, to contribute to the illustration of so great and venerable a character. they cannot be better applied, for that end, than by being entrusted to your hands. allow me, with this offering, to infer from it a proof of the very great esteem with which i have the honour to profess myself, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, 'warren hastings.' '_p.s_. at some future time, and when you have no further occasion for these papers, i shall be obliged to you if you would return them.' the last of the three letters thus graciously put into my hands, and which has already appeared in publick, belongs to this year; but i shall previously insert the first two in the order of their dates. they altogether form a grand group in my biographical picture. to the honourable warren hastings, esq. 'sir, though i have had but little personal knowledge of you, i have had enough to make me wish for more; and though it be now a long time since i was honoured by your visit, i had too much pleasure from it to forget it. by those whom we delight to remember, we are unwilling to be forgotten; and therefore i cannot omit this opportunity of reviving myself in your memory by a letter which you will receive from the hands of my friend mr. chambers[ ]; a man, whose purity of manners and vigour of mind are sufficient to make every thing welcome that he brings. that this is my only reason for writing, will be too apparent by the uselessness of my letter to any other purpose. i have no questions to ask; not that i want curiosity after either the ancient or present state of regions in which have been seen all the power and splendour of wide-extended empire; and which, as by some grant of natural superiority, supply the rest of the world with almost all that pride desires and luxury enjoys. but my knowledge of them is too scanty to furnish me with proper topicks of enquiry; i can only wish for information; and hope, that a mind comprehensive like yours will find leisure, amidst the cares of your important station, to enquire into many subjects of which the european world either thinks not at all, or thinks with deficient intelligence and uncertain conjecture. i shall hope, that he who once intended to increase the learning of his country by the introduction of the persian language[ ], will examine nicely the traditions and histories of the east; that he will survey the wonders of its ancient edifices, and trace the vestiges of its ruined cities; and that, at his return, we shall know the arts and opinions of a race of men, from whom very little has been hitherto derived. you, sir, have no need of being told by me, how much may be added by your attention and patronage to experimental knowledge and natural history. there are arts of manufacture practised in the countries in which you preside, which are yet very imperfectly known here, either to artificers or philosophers. of the natural productions, animate and inanimate, we yet have so little intelligence, that our books are filled, i fear, with conjectures about things which an indian peasant knows by his senses. many of those things my first wish is to see; my second to know, by such accounts as a man like you will be able to give. as i have not skill to ask proper questions, i have likewise no such access to great men as can enable me to send you any political information. of the agitations of an unsettled government, and the struggles of a feeble ministry[ ], care is doubtless taken to give you more exact accounts than i can obtain. if you are inclined to interest yourself much in publick transactions, it is no misfortune to you to be so distant from them. that literature is not totally forsaking us, and that your favourite language is not neglected, will appear from the book[ ], which i should have pleased myself more with sending, if i could have presented it bound: but time was wanting. i beg, however, sir, that you will accept it from a man very desirous of your regard; and that if you think me able to gratify you by any thing more important you will employ me. i am now going to take leave, perhaps a very long leave, of my dear mr. chambers. that he is going to live where you govern, may justly alleviate the regret of parting; and the hope of seeing both him and you again, which i am not willing to mingle with doubt, must at present comfort as it can, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. march , .' to the same. 'sir, being informed that by the departure of a ship, there is now an opportunity of writing to bengal, i am unwilling to slip out of your memory by my own negligence, and therefore take the liberty of reminding you of my existence, by sending you a book which is not yet made publick. i have lately visited a region less remote, and less illustrious than india, which afforded some occasions for speculation; what has occurred to me, i have put into the volume[ ], of which i beg your acceptance. men in your station seldom have presents totally disinterested; my book is received, let me now make my request. there is, sir, somewhere within your government, a young adventurer, one chauncey lawrence, whose father is one of my oldest friends. be pleased to shew the young man what countenance is fit, whether he wants to be restrained by your authority, or encouraged by your favour. his father is now president of the college of physicians, a man venerable for his knowledge, and more venerable for his virtue[ ]. i wish you a prosperous government, a safe return, and a long enjoyment of plenty and tranquillity. i am, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, sam. johnson[ ]. london, dec. , .' to the same. 'jan. , . sir, amidst the importance and multiplicity of affairs in which your great office engages you, i take the liberty of recalling your attention for a moment to literature, and will not prolong the interruption by an apology which your character makes needless. mr. hoole, a gentleman long known, and long esteemed in the india-house, after having translated tasso[ ], has undertaken ariosto. how well he is qualified for his undertaking he has already shewn. he is desirous, sir, of your favour in promoting his proposals, and flatters me by supposing that my testimony may advance his interest. it is a new thing for a clerk of the india-house to translate poets; --it is new for a governour of bengal to patronize learning. that he may find his ingenuity rewarded, and that learning may flourish under your protection, is the wish of, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson.' i wrote to him in february, complaining of having been troubled by a recurrence of the perplexing question of liberty and necessity;--and mentioning that i hoped soon to meet him again in london. 'to james boswell, esq. dear sir, i hoped you had got rid of all this hypocrisy of misery. what have you to do with liberty and necessity[ ]? or what more than to hold your tongue about it? do not doubt but i shall be most heartily glad to see you here again, for i love every part about you but your affectation of distress. i have at last finished my _lives_, and have laid up for you a load of copy[ ], all out of order, so that it will amuse you a long time to set it right. come to me, my dear bozzy, and let us be as happy as we can. we will go again to the mitre, and talk old times over. i am, dear sir, yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' march, , . on monday, march , i arrived in london, and on tuesday, the th, met him in fleet-street, walking, or rather indeed moving along; for his peculiar march is thus described in a very just and picturesque manner, in a short life[ ] of him published very soon after his death:--'when he walked the streets, what with the constant roll of his head, and the concomitant motion of his body, he appeared to make his way by that motion, independent of his feet.' that he was often much stared at while he advanced in this manner, may easily be believed; but it was not safe to make sport of one so robust as he was. mr. langton saw him one day, in a fit of absence, by a sudden start, drive the load off a porter's back, and walk forward briskly, without being conscious of what he had done. the porter was very angry, but stood still, and eyed the huge figure with much earnestness, till he was satisfied that his wisest course was to be quiet, and take up his burthen again. our accidental meeting in the street after a long separation was a pleasing surprize to us both. he stepped aside with me into falcon-court, and made kind inquiries about my family, and as we were in a hurry going different ways, i promised to call on him next day; he said he was engaged to go out in the morning. 'early, sir?' said i. johnson: 'why, sir, a london morning does not go with the sun.' i waited on him next evening, and he gave me a great portion of his original manuscript of his _lives of the poets_, which he had preserved for me. i found on visiting his friend, mr. thrale, that he was now very ill, and had removed, i suppose by the solicitation of mrs. thrale, to a house in grosvenor-square[ ]. i was sorry to see him sadly changed in his appearance. he told me i might now have the pleasure to see dr. johnson drink wine again, for he had lately returned to it. when i mentioned this to johnson, he said, 'i drink it now sometimes, but not socially.' the first evening that i was with him at thrale's, i observed he poured a large quantity of it into a glass, and swallowed it greedily. every thing about his character and manners was forcible and violent; there never was any moderation; many a day did he fast, many a year did he refrain from wine; but when he did eat, it was voraciously; when he did drink wine, it was copiously. he could practise abstinence, but not temperance[ ]. mrs. thrale and i had a dispute, whether shakspeare or milton had drawn the most admirable picture of a man[ ]. i was for shakspeare; mrs. thrale for milton; and after a fair hearing, johnson decided for my opinion. i told him of one of mr. burke's playful sallies upon dean marlay[ ]: 'i don't like the deanery of _ferns_, it sounds so like a _barren_ title.'--'dr. heath should have it;' said i. johnson laughed, and condescending to trifle in the same mode of conceit, suggested dr. _moss_[ ]. he said, 'mrs. montagu has dropt me. now, sir, there are people whom one should like very well to drop, but would not wish to be dropped by[ ].' he certainly was vain of the society of ladies, and could make himself very agreeable to them, when he chose it; sir joshua reynolds agreed with me that he could. mr. gibbon, with his usual sneer, controverted it, perhaps in resentment of johnson's having talked with some disgust of his ugliness[ ], which one would think a _philosopher_ would not mind. dean marlay wittily observed, 'a lady may be vain, when she can turn a wolf-dog into a lap-dog.' the election for ayrshire, my own county, was this spring tried upon a petition, before a committee of the house of commons. i was one of the counsel for the sitting member, and took the liberty of previously stating different points to johnson, who never failed to see them clearly, and to supply me with some good hints. he dictated to me the following note upon the registration of deeds:-- 'all laws are made for the convenience of the community: what is legally done, should be legally recorded, that the state of things may be known, and that wherever evidence is requisite, evidence may be had. for this reason, the obligation to frame and establish a legal register is enforced by a legal penalty, which penalty is the want of that perfection and plentitude of right which a register would give. thence it follows, that this is not an objection merely legal: for the reason on which the law stands being equitable, makes it an equitable objection.' 'this (said he) you must enlarge on, when speaking to the committee. you must not argue there as if you were arguing in the schools[ ]; close reasoning will not fix their attention; you must say the same thing over and over again, in different words. if you say it but once, they miss it in a moment of inattention. it is unjust, sir, to censure lawyers for multiplying words when they argue; it is often necessary for them to multiply words[ ].' his notion of the duty of a member of parliament, sitting upon an election-committee[ ], was very high; and when he was told of a gentleman upon one of those committees, who read the newspapers part of the time, and slept the rest, while the merits of a vote were examined by the counsel; and as an excuse, when challenged by the chairman for such behaviour, bluntly answered, 'i had made up my mind upon that case;'--johnson, with an indignant contempt, said, 'if he was such a rogue as to make up his mind upon a case without hearing it, he should not have been such a fool as to tell it.' 'i think (said mr. dudley long[ ], now north) the doctor has pretty plainly made him out to be both rogue and fool.' johnson's profound reverence for the hierarchy[ ] made him expect from bishops the highest degree of decorum; he was offended even at their going to taverns; 'a bishop (said he) has nothing to do at a tippling-house. it is not indeed immoral in him to go to a tavern; neither would it be immoral in him to whip a top in grosvenor-square. but, if he did, i hope the boys would fall upon him, and apply the whip to _him_. there are gradations in conduct; there is morality,--decency,--propriety. none of these should be violated by a bishop. a bishop should not go to a house where he may meet a young fellow leading out a wench.' boswell. 'but, sir, every tavern does not admit women.' johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, any tavern will admit a well-drest man and a well-drest woman; they will not perhaps admit a woman whom they see every night walking by their door, in the street. but a well-drest man may lead in a well-drest woman to any tavern in london. taverns sell meat and drink, and will sell them to any body who can eat and can drink. you may as well say that a mercer will not sell silks to a woman of the town.' he also disapproved of bishops going to routs, at least of their staying at them longer than their presence commanded respect. he mentioned a particular bishop. 'poh! (said mrs. thrale) the bishop of ----[ ] is never minded at a rout.' boswell. 'when a bishop places himself in a situation where he has no distinct character, and is of no consequence, he degrades the dignity of his order.' johnson. 'mr. boswell, madam, has said it as correctly as it could be.' nor was it only in the dignitaries of the church that johnson required a particular decorum and delicacy of behaviour; he justly considered that the clergy, as persons set apart for the sacred office of serving at the altar, and impressing the minds of men with the aweful concerns of a future state, should be somewhat more serious than the generality of mankind, and have a suitable composure of manners. a due sense of the dignity of their profession, independent of higher motives, will ever prevent them from losing their distinction in an indiscriminate sociality; and did such as affect this, know how much it lessens them in the eyes of those whom they think to please by it, they would feel themselves much mortified. johnson and his friend, beauclerk, were once together in company with several clergymen, who thought that they should appear to advantage, by assuming the lax jollity of _men of the world;_ which, as it may be observed in similar cases, they carried to noisy excess. johnson, who they expected would be _entertained,_ sat grave and silent for some time; at last, turning to beauclerk, he said, by no means in a whisper, 'this merriment of parsons is mighty offensive.' even the dress of a clergyman should be in character, and nothing can be more despicable than conceited attempts at avoiding the appearance of the clerical order; attempts, which are as ineffectual as they are pitiful. dr. porteus, now bishop of london, in his excellent charge when presiding over the diocese of chester, justly animadverts upon this subject; and observes of a reverend fop, that he 'can be but _half a beau_[ ].' addison, in _the spectator_[ ], has given us a fine portrait of a clergyman, who is supposed to be a member of his _club_; and johnson has exhibited a model, in the character of mr. mudge[ ], which has escaped the collectors of his works, but which he owned to me, and which indeed he shewed to sir joshua reynolds at the time when it was written. it bears the genuine marks of johnson's best manner, and is as follows[ ]:-- 'the reverend mr. _zacariah mudge_, prebendary of exeter, and vicar of st. andrew's in plymouth; a man equally eminent for his virtues and abilities, and at once beloved as a companion and reverenced as a pastor. he had that general curiosity to which no kind of knowledge is indifferent or superfluous; and that general benevolence by which no order of men is hated or despised. his principles both of thought and action were great and comprehensive. by a solicitous examination of objections, and judicious comparison of opposite arguments, he attained what enquiry never gives but to industry and perspicuity, a firm and unshaken settlement of conviction. but his firmness was without asperity; for, knowing with how much difficulty truth was sometimes found, he did not wonder that many missed it. the general course of his life was determined by his profession; he studied the sacred volumes in the original languages; with what diligence and success, his _notes upon the psalms_ give sufficient evidence. he once endeavoured to add the knowledge of arabick to that of hebrew; but finding his thoughts too much diverted from other studies, after some time desisted from his purpose. his discharge of parochial duties was exemplary. how his _sermons_[ ] were composed, may be learned from the excellent volume which he has given to the publick; but how they were delivered, can be known only to those that heard them; for as he appeared in the pulpit, words will not easily describe him. his delivery, though unconstrained was not negligent, and though forcible was not turbulent; disdaining anxious nicety of emphasis, and laboured artifice of action, it captivated the hearer by its natural dignity, it roused the sluggish, and fixed the volatile, and detained the mind upon the subject, without directing it to the speaker. the grandeur and solemnity of the preacher did not intrude upon his general behaviour; at the table of his friends he was a companion communicative and attentive, of unaffected manners, of manly cheerfulness, willing to please, and easy to be pleased. his acquaintance was universally solicited, and his presence obstructed no enjoyment which religion did not forbid. though studious he was popular; though argumentative he was modest; though inflexible he was candid; and though metaphysical yet orthodox[ ].' on friday, march , i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, with the earl of charlemont, sir annesley stewart, mr. eliot of port-eliot, mr. burke, dean marlay, mr. langton; a most agreeable day, of which i regret that every circumstance is not preserved; but it is unreasonable to require such a multiplication of felicity. mr. eliot, with whom dr. walter harte had travelled[ ], talked to us of his _history of gustavus adolphus_, which he said was a very good book in the german translation. johnson. 'harte was excessively vain. he put copies of his book in manuscript into the hands of lord chesterfield and lord granville, that they might revise it. now how absurd was it to suppose that two such noblemen would revise so big a manuscript. poor man! he left london the day of the publication of his book, that he might be out of the way of the great praise he was to receive; and he was ashamed to return, when he found how ill his book had succeeded. it was unlucky in coming out on the same day with robertson's _history of scotland_[ ]. his husbandry[ ], however, is good.' boswell. 'so he was fitter for that than for heroick history: he did well, when he turned his sword into a plough-share.' mr. eliot mentioned a curious liquor peculiar to his country, which the cornish fishermen drink. they call it _mahogany_; and it is made of two parts gin, and one part treacle, well beaten together. i begged to have some of it made, which was done with proper skill by mr. eliot. i thought it very good liquor; and said it was a counterpart of what is called _athol porridge_ in the highlands of scotland, which is a mixture of whisky and honey. johnson said, 'that must be a better liquor than the cornish, for both its component parts are better.' he also observed, '_mahogany_ must be a modern name; for it is not long since the wood called mahogany was known in this country.' i mentioned his scale of liquors[ ];--claret for boys--port for men--brandy for heroes. 'then (said mr. burke) let me have claret: i love to be a boy; to have the careless gaiety of boyish days.' johnson. 'i should drink claret too, if it would give me that; but it does not: it neither makes boys men, nor men boys. you'll be drowned by it, before it has any effect upon you.' i ventured to mention a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that dr. johnson was learning to dance of vestris[ ]. lord charlemont, wishing to excite him to talk, proposed in a whisper, that he should be asked, whether it was true. 'shall i ask him?' said his lordship. we were, by a great majority, clear for the experiment. upon which his lordship very gravely, and with a courteous air said, 'pray, sir, is it true that you are taking lessons of vestris?' this was risking a good deal, and required the boldness of a general of irish volunteers to make the attempt. johnson was at first startled, and in some heat answered, 'how can your lordship ask so simple a question?' but immediately recovering himself, whether from unwillingness to be deceived, or to appear deceived, or whether from real good humour, he kept up the joke: 'nay, but if any body were to answer the paragraph, and contradict it, i'd have a reply, and would say, that he who contradicted it was no friend either to vestris or me. for why should not dr.[ ] johnson add to his other powers a little corporeal agility? socrates learnt to dance at an advanced age, and cato learnt greek at an advanced age. then it might proceed to say, that this johnson, not content with dancing on the ground, might dance on the rope; and they might introduce the elephant dancing on the rope. a nobleman[ ] wrote a play, called _love in a hollow tree_. he found out that it was a bad one, and therefore wished to buy up all the copies, and burn them. the duchess of marlborough had kept one; and when he was against her at an election, she had a new edition of it printed, and prefixed to it, as a frontispiece, an elephant dancing on a rope; to shew, that his lordship's writing comedy was as aukward as an elephant dancing on a rope[ ].' on sunday, april , i dined with him at mr. thrale's, with sir philip jennings clerk and mr. perkins[ ], who had the superintendence of mr. thrale's brewery, with a salary of five hundred pounds a year. sir philip had the appearance of a gentleman of ancient family, well advanced in life. he wore his own white hair in a bag of goodly size, a black velvet coat, with an embroidered waistcoat, and very rich laced ruffles; which mrs. thrale said were old fashioned, but which, for that reason, i thought the more respectable, more like a tory; yet sir philip was then in opposition in parliament[ ]. 'ah, sir, (said johnson,) ancient ruffles and modern principles do not agree.' sir philip defended the opposition to the american war ably and with temper, and i joined him. he said, the majority of the nation was against the ministry. johnson. '_i_, sir, am against the ministry[ ]; but it is for having too little of that, of which opposition thinks they have too much. were i minister, if any man wagged his finger against me, he should be turned out[ ]; for that which it is in the power of government to give at pleasure to one or to another, should be given to the supporters of government. if you will not oppose at the expence of losing your place, your opposition will not be honest, you will feel no serious grievance; and the present opposition is only a contest to get what others have. sir robert walpole acted as i would do. as to the american war, the _sense_ of the nation is _with_ the ministry. the majority of those who can _understand_ is with it; the majority of those who can only _hear_, is against it; and as those who can only hear are more numerous than those who can understand, and opposition is always loudest, a majority of the rabble will be for opposition.' this boisterous vivacity entertained us; but the truth in my opinion was, that those who could understand the best were against the american war, as almost every man now is, when the question has been coolly considered. mrs. thrale gave high praise to mr. dudley long, (now north). johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. mr. long's character is very _short_. it is nothing. he fills a chair. he is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all[ ]. i know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character. they are provoked to attack it. now there is pepys[ ]; you praised that man with such disproportion, that i was incited to lessen him, perhaps more than he deserves[ ]. his blood is upon your head[ ]. by the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. and yet (looking to her with a leering smile) she is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers;--she would be the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig[ ].' upon the subject of exaggerated praise i took the liberty to say, that i thought there might be very high praise given to a known character which deserved it, and therefore it would not be exaggerated. thus, one might say of mr. edmund burke, he is a very wonderful man. johnson. 'no, sir, you would not be safe if another man had a mind perversely to contradict. he might answer, "where is all the wonder? burke is, to be sure, a man of uncommon abilities, with a great quantity of matter in his mind, and a great fluency of language in his mouth. but we are not to be stunned and astonished by him." so you see, sir, even burke would suffer, not from any fault of his own, but from your folly.' mrs. thrale mentioned a gentleman who had acquired a fortune of four thousand a year in trade, but was absolutely miserable, because he could not talk in company; so miserable, that he was impelled to lament his situation in the street to ----[ ], whom he hates, and who he knows despises him. 'i am a most unhappy man (said he). i am invited to conversations. i go to conversations; but, alas! i have no conversation.' johnson. 'man commonly cannot be successful in different ways. this gentleman has spent, in getting four thousand pounds a year, the time in which he might have learnt to talk; and now he cannot talk.' mr. perkins made a shrewd and droll remark: 'if he had got his four thousand a year as a mountebank, he might have learnt to talk at the same time that he was getting his fortune.' some other gentlemen came in. the conversation concerning the person whose character dr. johnson had treated so slightingly, as he did not know his merit, was resumed. mrs. thrale said, 'you think so of him, sir, because he is quiet, and does not exert himself with force. you'll be saying the same thing of mr. ---- there, who sits as quiet--.' this was not well-bred; and johnson did not let it pass without correction. 'nay, madam, what right have you to talk thus? both mr. ---- and i have reason to take it ill. _you_ may talk so of mr. ----; but why do you make _me_ do it. have i said anything against mr. ----? you have _set_ him, that i might shoot him: but i have not shot him.' one of the gentlemen said, he had seen three folio volumes of dr. johnson's sayings collected by me. 'i must put you right, sir, (said i;) for i am very exact in authenticity. you could not see folio volumes, for i have none: you might have seen some in quarto and octavo. this is inattention which one should guard against.' johnson. 'sir, it is a want of concern about veracity. he does not know that he saw _any_ volumes. if he had seen them he could have remembered their size[ ].' mr. thrale appeared very lethargick to-day. i saw him again on monday evening, at which time he was not thought to be in immediate danger; but early in the morning of wednesday, the th[ ], he expired[ ]. johnson was in the house, and thus mentions the event: 'i felt almost the last flutter of his pulse, and looked for the last time upon the face that for fifteen years had never been turned upon me but with respect and benignity[ ].' upon that day there was a call of the literary club; but johnson apologised for his absence by the following note:-- 'mr. johnson knows that sir joshua reynolds and the other gentlemen will excuse his incompliance with the call, when they are told that mr. thrale died this morning.' wednesday.' mr. thrale's death was a very essential loss to johnson[ ], who, although he did not foresee all that afterwards happened, was sufficiently convinced that the comforts which mr. thrale's family afforded him, would now in a great measure cease. he, however continued to shew a kind attention to his widow and children as long as it was acceptable; and he took upon him, with a very earnest concern, the office of one of his executors, the importance of which seemed greater than usual to him, from his circumstances having been always such, that he had scarcely any share in the real business of life[ ]. his friends of the club were in hopes that mr. thrale might have made a liberal provision for him for his life, which, as mr. thrale left no son, and a very large fortune, it would have been highly to his honour to have done; and, considering dr. johnson's age, could not have been of long duration; but he bequeathed him only two hundred pounds, which was the legacy given to each of his executors[ ]. i could not but be somewhat diverted by hearing johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold[ ]. lord lucan[ ] tells a very good story, which, if not precisely exact, is certainly characteristic: that when the sale of thrale's brewery was going forward, johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 'we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice[ ].' on friday, april , he carried me to dine at a club, which, at his desire, had been lately formed at the queen's arms, in st. paul's church-yard. he told mr. hoole, that he wished to have a _city club_, and asked him to collect one; but, said he, 'don't let them be _patriots_[ ].' the company were to-day very sensible, well-behaved men. i have preserved only two particulars of his conversation. he said he was glad lord george gordon had escaped[ ], rather than that a precedent should be established for hanging a man for _constructive treason_; which, in consistency with his true, manly, constitutional toryism, he considered would be a dangerous engine of arbitrary power. and upon its being mentioned that an opulent and very indolent scotch nobleman, who totally resigned the management of his affairs to a man of knowledge and abilities, had claimed some merit by saying, 'the next best thing to managing a man's own affairs well is being sensible of incapacity, and not attempting it, but having full confidence in one who can do it:' johnson. 'nay, sir, this is paltry. there is a middle course. let a man give application; and depend upon it he will soon get above a despicable state of helplessness, and attain the power of acting for himself.' on saturday, april , i dined with him at mr. hoole's with governour bouchier and captain orme, both of whom had been long in the east-indies; and being men of good sense and observation, were very entertaining. johnson defended the oriental regulation of different _casts_ of men, which was objected to as totally destructive of the hopes of rising in society by personal merit. he shewed that there was a _principle_ in it sufficiently plausible by analogy. 'we see (said he) in metals that there are different species; and so likewise in animals, though one species may not differ very widely from another, as in the species of dogs,--the cur, the spaniel, the mastiff. the bramins are the mastiffs of mankind.' on thursday, april , i dined with him at a bishop's, where were sir joshua reynolds, mr. berrenger, and some more company. he had dined the day before at another bishop's. i have unfortunately recorded none of his conversation at the bishop's where we dined together[ ]: but i have preserved his ingenious defence of his dining twice abroad in passion-week[ ]; a laxity, in which i am convinced he would not have indulged himself at the time when he wrote his solemn paper in _the rambler_[ ], upon that aweful season. it appeared to me, that by being much more in company, and enjoying more luxurious living, he had contracted a keener relish of pleasure, and was consequently less rigorous in his religious rites. this he would not acknowledge; but he reasoned with admirable sophistry, as follows: 'why, sir, a bishop's calling company together in this week is, to use the vulgar phrase, not _the thing_. but you must consider laxity is a bad thing; but preciseness is also a bad thing; and your general character may be more hurt by preciseness than by dining with a bishop in passion-week. there might be a handle for reflection. it might be said, 'he refused to dine with a bishop in passion-week, but was three sundays absent from church.' boswell. 'very true, sir. but suppose a man to be uniformly of good conduct, would it not be better that he should refuse to dine with a bishop in this week, and so not encourage a bad practice by his example?' johnson. 'why, sir, you are to consider whether you might not do more harm by lessening the influence of a bishop's character by your disapprobation in refusing him, than by going to him.' to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam, 'life is full of troubles. i have just lost my dear friend thrale. i hope he is happy; but i have had a great loss. i am otherwise pretty well. i require some care of myself, but that care is not ineffectual; and when i am out of order, i think it often my own fault. 'the spring is now making quick advances. as it is the season in which the whole world is enlivened and invigorated, i hope that both you and i shall partake of its benefits. my desire is to see lichfield; but being left executor to my friend, i know not whether i can be spared; but i will try, for it is now long since we saw one another, and how little we can promise ourselves many more interviews, we are taught by hourly examples of mortality. let us try to live so as that mortality may not be an evil. write to me soon, my dearest; your letters will give me great pleasure. 'i am sorry that mr. porter has not had his box; but by sending it to mr. mathias, who very readily undertook its conveyance, i did the best i could, and perhaps before now he has it. 'be so kind as to make my compliments to my friends; i have a great value for their kindness, and hope to enjoy it before summer is past. do write to me. i am, dearest love, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, april , .' on friday, april , being good-friday, i went to st. clement's church with him as usual. there i saw again his old fellow-collegian, edwards[ ], to whom i said, 'i think, sir, dr. johnson and you meet only at church.'--'sir, (said he,) it is the best place we can meet in, except heaven, and i hope we shall meet there too.' dr. johnson told me, that there was very little communication between edwards and him, after their unexpected renewal of acquaintance. 'but (said he, smiling) he met me once, and said, "i am told you have written a very pretty book called _the rambler_." i was unwilling that he should leave the world in total darkness, and sent him a set.' mr. berrenger[ ] visited him to-day, and was very pleasing. we talked of an evening society for conversation at a house in town, of which we were all members, but of which johnson said, 'it will never do, sir. there is nothing served about there, neither tea, nor coffee, nor lemonade, nor any thing whatever; and depend upon it, sir, a man does not love to go to a place from whence he comes out exactly as he went in.' i endeavoured, for argument's sake, to maintain that men of learning and talents might have very good intellectual society, without the aid of any little gratifications of the senses. berrenger joined with johnson, and said, that without these any meeting would be dull and insipid. he would therefore have all the slight refreshments; nay, it would not be amiss to have some cold meat, and a bottle of wine upon a side-board. 'sir, (said johnson to me, with an air of triumph,) mr. berrenger knows the world. every body loves to have good things furnished to them without any trouble. i told mrs. thrale once, that as she did not choose to have card tables, she should have a profusion of the best sweetmeats, and she would be sure to have company enough come to her[ ].' i agreed with my illustrious friend upon this subject; for it has pleased god to make man a composite animal, and where there is nothing to refresh the body, the mind will languish. on sunday, april , being easter-day, after solemn worship in st. paul's church, i found him alone; dr. scott of the commons came in. he talked of its having been said that addison wrote some of his best papers in _the spectator_ when warm with wine[ ]. dr. johnson did not seem willing to admit this. dr. scott, as a confirmation of it, related, that blackstone, a sober man, composed his _commentaries_ with a bottle of port before him; and found his mind invigorated and supported in the fatigue of his great work, by a temperate use of it[ ]. i told him, that in a company where i had lately been, a desire was expressed to know his authority for the shocking story of addison's sending an execution into steele's house[ ]. 'sir, (said he,) it is generally known, it is known to all who are acquainted with the literary history of that period. it is as well known, as that he wrote _cato_.' mr. thomas sheridan once defended addison to me, by alledging that he did it in order to cover steele's goods from other creditors, who were going to seize them. we talked of the difference between the mode of education at oxford, and that in those colleges where instruction is chiefly conveyed by lectures[ ]. johnson. 'lectures were once useful; but now, when all can read, and books are so numerous, lectures are unnecessary. if your attention fails, and you miss a part of a lecture, it is lost; you cannot go back as you do upon a book.' dr. scott agreed with him. 'but yet (said i), dr. scott, you yourself gave lectures at oxford[ ].' he smiled. 'you laughed (then said i) at those who came to you.' dr. scott left us, and soon afterwards we went to dinner. our company consisted of mrs. williams, mrs. desmoulins, mr. levett, mr. allen, the printer, and mrs. hall[ ], sister of the reverend mr. john wesley, and resembling him, as i thought, both in figure and manner. johnson produced now, for the first time, some handsome silver salvers, which he told me he had bought fourteen years ago; so it was a great day. i was not a little amused by observing allen perpetually struggling to talk in the manner of johnson, like the little frog in the fable blowing himself up to resemble the stately ox[ ]. i mentioned a kind of religious robinhood society[ ], which met every sunday evening, at coachmakers'-hall, for free debate; and that the subject for this night was, the text which relates, with other miracles, which happened at our saviour's death, 'and the graves were opened, and many bodies of the saints which slept arose, and came out of the graves after his resurrection, and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many[ ].' mrs. hall said it was a very curious subject, and she should like to hear it discussed. johnson, (somewhat warmly) 'one would not go to such a place to hear it,--one would not be seen in such a place--to give countenance to such a meeting.' i, however, resolved that i would go. 'but, sir, (said she to johnson,) i should like to hear _you_ discuss it.' he seemed reluctant to engage in it. she talked of the resurrection of the human race in general, and maintained that we shall be raised with the same bodies. johnson. 'nay, madam, we see that it is not to be the same body; for the scripture uses the illustration of grain sown, and we know that the grain which grows is not the same with what is sown[ ]. you cannot suppose that we shall rise with a diseased body; it is enough if there be such a sameness as to distinguish identity of person.' she seemed desirous of knowing more, but he left the question in obscurity. of apparitions[ ], he observed, 'a total disbelief of them is adverse to the opinion of the existence of the soul between death and the last day; the question simply is, whether departed spirits ever have the power of making themselves perceptible to us; a man who thinks he has seen an apparition, can only be convinced himself; his authority will not convince another, and his conviction, if rational, must be founded on being told something which cannot be known but by supernatural means.' he mentioned a thing as not unfrequent, of which i had never heard before,--being _called_, that is, hearing one's name pronounced by the voice of a known person at a great distance, far beyond the possibility of being reached by any sound uttered by human organs. 'an acquaintance, on whose veracity i can depend, told me, that walking home one evening to kilmarnock, he heard himself called from a wood, by the voice of a brother who had gone to america; and the next packet brought accounts of that brother's death.' macbean[ ] asserted that this inexplicable _calling_ was a thing very well known. dr. johnson said, that one day at oxford, as he was turning the key of his chamber, he heard his mother distinctly call sam. she was then at lichfield; but nothing ensued[ ]. this phaenomenon is, i think, as wonderful as any other mysterious fact, which many people are very slow to believe, or rather, indeed, reject with an obstinate contempt. some time after this, upon his making a remark which escaped my attention, mrs. williams and mrs. hall were both together striving to answer him. he grew angry, and called out loudly, 'nay, when you both speak at once, it is intolerable.' but checking himself, and softening, he said, 'this one may say, though you _are_ ladies.' then he brightened into gay humour, and addressed them in the words of one of the songs in _the beggar's opera_[ ]:-- 'but two at a time there's no mortal can bear.' 'what, sir, (said i,) are you going to turn captain macheath?' there was something as pleasantly ludicrous in this scene as can be imagined. the contrast between macheath, polly, and lucy--and dr. samuel johnson, blind, peevish mrs. williams, and lean, lank, preaching mrs. hall, was exquisite. i stole away to coachmakers'-hall, and heard the difficult text of which we had talked, discussed with great decency, and some intelligence, by several speakers. there was a difference of opinion as to the appearance of ghosts in modern times, though the arguments for it, supported by mr. addison's authority[ ], preponderated. the immediate subject of debate was embarrassed by the _bodies_ of the saints having been said to rise, and by the question what became of them afterwards; did they return again to their graves? or were they translated to heaven? only one evangelist mentions the fact[ ], and the commentators whom i have looked at, do not make the passage clear. there is, however, no occasion for our understanding it farther, than to know that it was one of the extraordinary manifestations of divine power, which accompanied the most important event that ever happened. on friday, april , i spent with him one of the happiest days that i remember to have enjoyed in the whole course of my life. mrs. garrick, whose grief for the loss of her husband was, i believe, as sincere as wounded affection and admiration could produce, had this day, for the first time since his death, a select party of his friends to dine with her[ ]. the company was miss hannah more, who lived with her, and whom she called her chaplain[ ]; mrs. boscawen[ ], mrs. elizabeth carter, sir joshua reynolds, dr. burney, dr. johnson, and myself. we found ourselves very elegantly entertained at her house in the adelphi[ ], where i have passed many a pleasing hour with him 'who gladdened life[ ].' she looked well, talked of her husband with complacency, and while she cast her eyes on his portrait, which hung over the chimney-piece, said, that 'death was now the most agreeable object to her[ ].' the very semblance of david garrick was cheering. mr. beauclerk, with happy propriety, inscribed under that fine portrait of him, which by lady diana's kindness is now the property of my friend mr. langton, the following passage from his beloved shakspeare:-- 'a merrier man, within the limit of becoming mirth, i never spent an hour's talk withal. his eye begets occasion for his wit; for every object that the one doth catch, the other turns to a mirth-moving jest; which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor) delivers in such apt and gracious words, that aged ears play truant at his tales, and younger hearings are quite ravished: so sweet and voluble is his discourse[ ].' we were all in fine spirits; and i whispered to mrs. boscawen, 'i believe this is as much as can be made of life.' in addition to a splendid entertainment, we were regaled with lichfield ale[ ], which had a peculiar appropriated value. sir joshua, and dr. burney, and i, drank cordially of it to dr. johnson's health; and though he would not join us, he as cordially answered, 'gentlemen, i wish you all as well as you do me.' the general effect of this day dwells upon my mind in fond remembrance; but i do not find much conversation recorded. what i have preserved shall be faithfully given. one of the company mentioned mr. thomas hollis, the strenuous whig, who used to send over europe presents of democratical books, with their boards stamped with daggers and caps of liberty. mrs. carter said, 'he was a bad man. he used to talk uncharitably.' johnson. 'poh! poh! madam; who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably? besides, he was a dull poor creature as ever lived: and i believe he would not have done harm to a man whom he knew to be of very opposite principles to his own. i remember once at the society of arts, when an advertisement was to be drawn up, he pointed me out as the man who could do it best. this, you will observe, was kindness to me. i however slipt away, and escaped it.' mrs. carter having said of the same person, 'i doubt he was an atheist[ ].' johnson. 'i don't know that. he might perhaps have become one, if he had had time to ripen, (smiling.) he might have _exuberated_ into an atheist.' sir joshua reynolds praised _mudge's sermons_[ ]. johnson. 'mudge's sermons are good, but not practical. he grasps more sense than he can hold; he takes more corn than he can make into meal; he opens a wide prospect, but it is so distant, it is indistinct. i love _blair's sermons_. though the dog is a scotchman, and a presbyterian, and every thing he should not be, i was the first to praise them[ ]. such was my candour.' (smiling.) mrs. boscawen. 'such his great merit to get the better of all your prejudices.' johnson. 'why, madam, let us compound the matter; let us ascribe it to my candour, and his merit.' in the evening we had a large company in the drawing-room, several ladies, the bishop of killaloe, dr. percy, mr. chamberlayne[ ], of the treasury, &c. &c. somebody said the life of a mere literary man could not be very entertaining. johnson. 'but it certainly may. this is a remark which has been made, and repeated, without justice; why should the life of a literary man be less entertaining than the life of any other man? are there not as interesting varieties in such a life[ ]? as _a literary life_ it may be very entertaining.' boswell. 'but it must be better surely, when it is diversified with a little active variety-- such as his having gone to jamaica; or--his having gone to the hebrides.' johnson was not displeased at this. talking of a very respectable authour, he told us a curious circumstance in his life, which was, that he had married a printer's devil. reynolds. 'a printer's devil, sir! why, i thought a printer's devil was a creature with a black face and in rags.' johnson. 'yes, sir. but i suppose, he had her face washed, and put clean clothes on her. (then looking very serious, and very earnest.) and she did not disgrace him; the woman had a bottom of good sense. the word _bottom_ thus introduced, was so ludicrous when contrasted with his gravity, that most of us could not forbear tittering and laughing; though i recollect that the bishop of killaloe kept his countenance with perfect steadiness, while miss hannah more slyly hid her face behind a lady's back who sat on the same settee with her. his pride could not bear that any expression of his should excite ridicule, when he did not intend it; he therefore resolved to assume and exercise despotick power, glanced sternly around, and called out in a strong tone, 'where's the merriment?' then collecting himself, and looking aweful, to make us feel how he could impose restraint, and as it were searching his mind for a still more ludicrous word, he slowly pronounced, 'i say the _woman_ was _fundamentally_ sensible;' as if he had said, hear this now, and laugh if you dare. we all sat composed as at a funeral[ ]. he and i walked away together; we stopped a little while by the rails of the adelphi, looking on the thames, and i said to him with some emotion that i was now thinking of two friends we had lost, who once lived in the buildings behind us, beauclerk and garrick. 'ay, sir, (said he, tenderly) and two such friends as cannot be supplied[ ].' for some time after this day i did not see him very often, and of the conversation which i did enjoy, i am sorry to find i have preserved but little. i was at this time engaged in a variety of other matters, which required exertion and assiduity, and necessarily occupied almost all my time. one day having spoken very freely of those who were then in power, he said to me, 'between ourselves, sir, i do not like to give opposition the satisfaction of knowing how much i disapprove of the ministry.' and when i mentioned that mr. burke had boasted how quiet the nation was in george the second's reign, when whigs were in power, compared with the present reign, when tories governed;--'why, sir, (said he,) you are to consider that tories having more reverence for government, will not oppose with the same violence as whigs, who being unrestrained by that principle, will oppose by any means.' this month he lost not only mr. thrale, but another friend, mr. william strahan, junior, printer, the eldest son of his old and constant friend, printer to his majesty. 'to mrs. strahan. 'dear madam, 'the grief which i feel for the loss of a very kind friend is sufficient to make me know how much you suffer by the death of an amiable son; a man, of whom i think it may truly be said, that no one knew him who does not lament him. i look upon myself as having a friend, another friend, taken from me. 'comfort, dear madam, i would give you if i could, but i know how little the forms of consolation can avail. let me, however, counsel you not to waste your health in unprofitable sorrow, but go to bath, and endeavour to prolong your own life; but when we have all done all that we can, one friend must in time lose the other. 'i am, dear madam, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' on tuesday, may [ ], i had the pleasure of again dining with him and mr. wilkes, at mr. billy's[ ]. no _negociation_ was now required to bring them together; for johnson was so well satisfied with the former interview, that he was very glad to meet wilkes again, who was this day seated between dr. beattie and dr. johnson; (between _truth_[ ] and _reason_, as general paoli said, when i told him of it.) wilkes. 'i have been thinking, dr. johnson, that there should be a bill brought into parliament that the controverted elections for scotland should be tried in that country, at their own abbey of holy-rood house, and not here; for the consequence of trying them here is, that we have an inundation of scotchmen, who come up and never go back again. now here is boswell, who is come up upon the election for his own county, which will not last a fortnight.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i see no reason why they should be tried at all; for, you know, one scotchman is as good as another.' wilkes. 'pray, boswell, how much may be got in a year by an advocate at the scotch bar?' boswell. 'i believe two thousand pounds.' wllkes. 'how can it be possible to spend that money in scotland?' johnson. 'why, sir, the money may be spent in england: but there is a harder question. if one man in scotland gets possession of two thousand pounds, what remains for all the rest of the nation?' wilkes. 'you know, in the last war, the immense booty which thurot[ ] carried off by the complete plunder of seven scotch isles; he re-embarked with _three and six-pence_.' here again johnson and wilkes joined in extravagant sportive raillery upon the supposed poverty of scotland, which dr. beattie and i did not think it worth our while to dispute. the subject of quotation being introduced, mr. wilkes censured it as pedantry[ ]. johnson. 'no, sir, it is a good thing; there is a community of mind in it. classical quotation is the _parole_ of literary men all over the world.' wllkes. 'upon the continent they all quote the vulgate bible. shakspeare is chiefly quoted here; and we quote also pope, prior, butler, waller, and sometimes cowley[ ].' we talked of letter-writing. johnson. 'it is now become so much the fashion to publish letters, that in order to avoid it, i put as little into mine as i can.[ ]' boswell. 'do what you will, sir, you cannot avoid it. should you even write as ill as you can, your letters would be published as curiosities: "behold a miracle! instead of wit, see two dull lines with stanhope's pencil writ[ ]."' he gave us an entertaining account of _bet flint_[ ], a woman of the town, who, with some eccentrick talents and much effrontery, forced herself upon his acquaintance. 'bet (said he) wrote her own life in verse[ ], which she brought to me, wishing that i would furnish her with a preface to it. (laughing.) i used to say of her that she was generally slut and drunkard; occasionally, whore and thief. she had, however, genteel lodgings, a spinnet on which she played, and a boy that walked before her chair. poor bet was taken up on a charge of stealing a counterpane, and tried at the old bailey. chief justice ------[ ], who loved a wench, summed up favourably, and she was acquitted. after which bet said, with a gay and satisfied air, 'now that the counterpane is _my own_, i shall make a petticoat of it.' talking of oratory, mr. wilkes described it as accompanied with all the charms of poetical expression. johnson. 'no, sir; oratory is the power of beating down your adversary's arguments, and putting better in their place.' wllkes. 'but this does not move the passions.' johnson. 'he must be a weak man, who is to be so moved.' wllkes. (naming a celebrated orator) 'amidst all the brilliancy of ----'s[ ] imagination, and the exuberance of his wit, there is a strange want of _taste_. it was observed of apelles's venus[ ], that her flesh seemed as if she had been nourished by roses: his oratory would sometimes make one suspect that he eats potatoes and drinks whisky.' mr. wilkes observed, how tenacious we are of forms in this country, and gave as an instance, the vote of the house of commons for remitting money to pay the army in america _in portugal pieces_[ ], when, in reality, the remittance is made not in portugal money, but in our own specie. johnson. 'is there not a law, sir, against exporting the current coin of the realm?' wllkes. 'yes, sir: but might not the house of commons, in case of real evident necessity, order our own current coin to be sent into our own colonies?' here johnson, with that quickness of recollection which distinguished him so eminently, gave the _middlesex patriot_ an admirable retort upon his own ground. 'sure, sir, _you_ don't think a _resolution of the house of commons_ equal to _the law of the land_[ ].' wllkes. (at once perceiving the application) 'god forbid, sir.' to hear what had been treated with such violence in _the false alarm_, now turned into pleasant repartee, was extremely agreeable. johnson went on;--'locke observes well, that a prohibition to export the current coin is impolitick; for when the balance of trade happens to be against a state, the current coin must be exported[ ].' mr. beauclerk's great library[ ] was this season sold in london by auction. mr. wilkes said, he wondered to find in it such a numerous collection of sermons; seeming to think it strange that a gentleman of mr. beauclerk's character in the gay world should have chosen to have many compositions of that kind. johnson. 'why, sir, you are to consider, that sermons make a considerable branch of english literature[ ]; so that a library must be very imperfect if it has not a numerous collection of sermons[ ]: and in all collections, sir, the desire of augmenting it grows stronger in proportion to the advance in acquisition; as motion is accelerated by the continuance of the _impetus_. besides, sir, (looking at mr. wilkes with a placid but significant smile) a man may collect sermons with intention of making himself better by them. i hope mr. beauclerk intended, that some time or other that should be the case with him.' mr. wilkes said to me, loud enough for dr. johnson to hear, 'dr. johnson should make me a present of his _lives of the poets_, as i am a poor patriot, who cannot afford to buy them.' johnson seemed to take no notice of this hint; but in a little while, he called to mr. dilly, 'pray, sir, be so good as to send a set of my _lives_ to mr. wilkes, with my compliments.' this was accordingly done; and mr. wilkes paid dr. johnson a visit, was courteously received, and sat with him a long time. the company gradually dropped away. mr. dilly himself was called down stairs upon business; i left the room for some time; when i returned, i was struck with observing dr. samuel johnson and john wilkes, esq., literally _tête-à-tête_; for they were reclined upon their chairs, with their heads leaning almost close to each other, and talking earnestly, in a kind of confidential whisper, of the personal quarrel between george the second and the king of prussia[ ]. such a scene of perfectly easy sociality between two such opponents in the war of political controversy, as that which i now beheld, would have been an excellent subject for a picture. it presented to my mind the happy days which are foretold in scripture, when the lion shall lie down with the kid[ ]. after this day there was another pretty long interval, during which dr. johnson and i did not meet. when i mentioned it to him with regret, he was pleased to say, 'then, sir, let us live double.' about this time it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. these societies were denominated _blue-stocking clubs_, the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. one of the most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was mr. stillingfleet[ ], whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed, that he wore blue stockings[ ]. such was the excellence of his conversation, that his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said, 'we can do nothing without the _blue stockings_;' and thus by degrees the title was established. miss hannah more has admirably described a _blue-stocking club_, in her _bas bleu_[ ], a poem in which many of the persons who were most conspicuous there are mentioned. johnson was prevailed with to come sometimes into these circles, and did not think himself too grave even for the lively miss monckton[ ] (now countess of corke), who used to have the finest _bit of blue_ at the house of her mother, lady galway. her vivacity enchanted the sage, and they used to talk together with all imaginable ease. a singular instance happened one evening, when she insisted that some of sterne's writings were very pathetick. johnson bluntly denied it. 'i am sure (said she) they have affected _me_.' 'why (said johnson, smiling, and rolling himself about,) that is, because, dearest, you're a dunce[ ].' when she some time afterwards mentioned this to him, he said with equal truth and politeness; 'madam, if i had thought so, i certainly should not have said it.' another evening johnson's kind indulgence towards me had a pretty difficult trial. i had dined at the duke of montrose's with a very agreeable party, and his grace, according to his usual custom, had circulated the bottle very freely. lord graham[ ] and i went together to miss monckton's, where i certainly was in extraordinary spirits, and above all fear or awe. in the midst of a great number of persons of the first rank, amongst whom i recollect with confusion, a noble lady of the most stately decorum, i placed myself next to johnson, and thinking myself now fully his match, talked to him in a loud and boisterous manner, desirous to let the company know how i could contend with _ajax_. i particularly remember pressing him upon the value of the pleasures of the imagination, and as an illustration of my argument, asking him, 'what, sir, supposing i were to fancy that the--(naming the most charming duchess in his majesty's dominions) were in love with me, should i not be very happy?' my friend with much address evaded my interrogatories, and kept me as quiet as possible; but it may easily be conceived how he must have felt[ ]. however, when a few days afterwards i waited upon him and made an apology, he behaved with the most friendly gentleness[ ]. while i remained in london this year[ ], johnson and i dined together at several places. i recollect a placid day at dr. butter's[ ], who had now removed from derby to lower grosvenor-street, london; but of his conversation on that and other occasions during this period, i neglected to keep any regular record[ ], and shall therefore insert here some miscellaneous articles which i find in my johnsonian notes. his disorderly habits, when 'making provision for the day that was passing over him[ ],' appear from the following anecdote, communicated to me by mr. john nichols:--'in the year , a young bookseller, who was an apprentice to mr. whiston, waited on him with a subscription to his _shakspeare_: and observing that the doctor made no entry in any book of the subscriber's name, ventured diffidently to ask, whether he would please to have the gentleman's address, that it might be properly inserted in the printed list of subscribers. '_i shall print no list of subscribers_;' said johnson, with great abruptness: but almost immediately recollecting himself, added, very complacently, 'sir, i have two very cogent reasons for not printing any list of subscribers;--one, that i have lost all the names,--the other, that i have spent all the money.' johnson could not brook appearing to be worsted in argument, even when he had taken the wrong side, to shew the force and dexterity of his talents. when, therefore, he perceived that his opponent gained ground, he had recourse to some sudden mode of robust sophistry. once when i was pressing upon him with visible advantage, he stopped me thus:--'my dear boswell, let's have no more of this; you'll make nothing of it. i'd rather have you whistle a scotch tune.' care, however, must be taken to distinguish between johnson when he 'talked for victory[ ],' and johnson when he had no desire but to inform and illustrate. 'one of johnson's principal talents (says an eminent friend of his)[ ] was shewn in maintaining the wrong side of an argument, and in a splendid perversion of the truth. if you could contrive to have his fair opinion on a subject, and without any bias from personal prejudice, or from a wish to be victorious in argument, it was wisdom itself, not only convincing, but overpowering.' he had, however, all his life habituated himself to consider conversation as a trial of intellectual vigour and skill[ ]; and to this, i think, we may venture to ascribe that unexampled richness and brilliancy which appeared in his own. as a proof at once of his eagerness for colloquial distinction, and his high notion of this eminent friend, he once addressed him thus:-'----, we now have been several hours together; and you have said but one thing for which i envied you.' he disliked much all speculative desponding considerations, which tended to discourage men from diligence and exertion. he was in this like dr. shaw, the great traveller[ ], who mr. daines barrington[ ] told me, used to say, 'i hate a _cui bono_ man.' upon being asked by a friend[ ] what he should think of a man who was apt to say _non est tanti_;-'that he's a stupid fellow, sir; (answered johnson): what would these _tanti_ men be doing the while?' when i in a low-spirited fit, was talking to him with indifference of the pursuits which generally engage us in a course of action, and inquiring a _reason_ for taking so much trouble; 'sir (said he, in an animated tone) it is driving on the system of life.' he told me, that he was glad that i had, by general oglethorpe's means, become acquainted with dr. shebbeare. indeed that gentleman, whatever objections were made to him, had knowledge and abilities much above the class of ordinary writers, and deserves to be remembered as a respectable name in literature, were it only for his admirable _letters on the english nation_, under the name of 'battista angeloni, a jesuit[ ].' johnson and shebbeare[ ] were frequently named together, as having in former reigns had no predilection for the family of hanover. the authour of the celebrated _heroick epistle to sir william chambers_, introduces them in one line, in a list of those 'who tasted the sweets of his present majesty's reign[ ].' such was johnson's candid relish of the merit of that satire, that he allowed dr. goldsmith, as he told me, to read it to him from beginning to end, and did not refuse his praise to its execution[ ]. goldsmith could sometimes take adventurous liberties with him, and escape unpunished. beauclerk told me that when goldsmith talked of a project for having a third theatre in london, solely for the exhibition of new plays, in order to deliver authours from the supposed tyranny of managers, johnson treated it slightingly; upon which goldsmith said, 'ay, ay, this may be nothing to you, who can now shelter yourself behind the corner of a pension;' and that johnson bore this with good-humour. johnson praised the earl of carlisle's poems[ ], which his lordship had published with his name, as not disdaining to be a candidate for literary fame. my friend was of opinion, that when a man of rank appeared in that character, he deserved to have his merit handsomely allowed[ ]. in this i think he was more liberal than mr. william whitehead[ ], in his _elegy to lord villiers_, in which under the pretext of 'superiour toils, demanding all their care,' he discovers a jealousy of the great paying their court to the muses:-- '------to the chosen few who dare excel, thy fost'ring aid afford, their arts, their magick powers, with honours due exalt;--but be thyself what they record[ ].' johnson had called twice on the bishop of killaloe[ ] before his lordship set out for ireland, having missed him the first time. he said, 'it would have hung heavy on my heart if i had not seen him. no man ever paid more attention to another than he has done to me[ ]; and i have neglected him, not wilfully, but from being otherwise occupied. always, sir, set a high value on spontaneous kindness. he whose inclination prompts him to cultivate your friendship of his own accord, will love you more than one whom you have been at pains to attach to you.' johnson told me, that he was once much pleased to find that a carpenter, who lived near him, was very ready to shew him some things in his business which he wished to see: 'it was paying (said he) respect to literature.' i asked him if he was not dissatisfied with having so small a share of wealth, and none of those distinctions in the state which are the objects of ambition. he had only a pension of three hundred a year. why was he not in such circumstances as to keep his coach? why had he not some considerable office? johnson, 'sir, i have never complained of the world[ ]; nor do i think that i have reason to complain. it is rather to be wondered at that i have so much. my pension is more out of the usual course of things than any instance that i have known. here, sir, was a man avowedly no friend to government at the time, who got a pension without asking for it. i never courted the great; they sent for me; but i think they now give me up. they are satisfied; they have seen enough of me.' upon my observing that i could not believe this, for they must certainly be highly pleased by his conversation; conscious of his own superiority, he answered, 'no, sir; great lords and great ladies don't love to have their mouths stopped[ ].' this was very expressive of the effect which the force of his understanding and brilliancy of his fancy could not but produce; and, to be sure, they must have found themselves strangely diminished in his company. when i warmly declared how happy i was at all times to hear him;--'yes, sir, (said he); but if you were lord chancellor, it would not be so: you would then consider your own dignity.' there was much truth and knowledge of human nature in this remark. but certainly one should think, that in whatever elevated state of life a man who _knew_ the value of the conversation of johnson might be placed, though he might prudently avoid a situation in which he might appear lessened by comparison; yet he would frequently gratify himself in private with the participation of the rich intellectual entertainment which johnson could furnish. strange, however, it is, to consider how few of the great sought his society[ ]; so that if one were disposed to take occasion for satire on that account, very conspicuous objects present themselves. his noble friend, lord elibank, well observed, that if a great man procured an interview with johnson, and did not wish to see him more, it shewed a mere idle curiosity, and a wretched want of relish for extraordinary powers of mind[ ]. mrs. thrale justly and wittily accounted for such conduct by saying, that johnson's conversation was by much too strong for a person accustomed to obsequiousness and flattery; it was _mustard in a young child's mouth!_ one day, when i told him that i was a zealous tory, but not enough 'according to knowledge[ ],' and should be obliged to him for 'a reason[ ],' he was so candid, and expressed himself so well, that i begged of him to repeat what he had said, and i wrote down as follows:-- of tory and whig. 'a wise tory and a wise whig, i believe, will agree[ ]. their principles are the same, though their modes of thinking are different. a high tory makes government unintelligible: it is lost in the clouds. a violent whig makes it impracticable: he is for allowing so much liberty to every man, that there is not power enough to govern any man. the prejudice of the tory is for establishment; the prejudice of the whig is for innovation. a tory does not wish to give more real power to government; but that government should have more reverence. then they differ as to the church. the tory is not for giving more legal power to the clergy, but wishes they should have a considerable influence, founded on the opinion of mankind; the whig is for limiting and watching them with a narrow jealousy.' to mr. perkins. 'sir, however often i have seen you, i have hitherto forgotten the note, but i have now sent it: with my good wishes for the prosperity of you and your partner[ ], of whom, from our short conversation, i could not judge otherwise than favourably. i am, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. june , .' on saturday, june , i set out for scotland, and had promised to pay a visit in my way, as i sometimes did, at southill, in bedfordshire, at the hospitable mansion of 'squire dilly, the elder brother of my worthy friends, the booksellers, in the poultry. dr. johnson agreed to be of the party this year, with mr. charles dilly and me, and to go and see lord bute's seat at luton hoe. he talked little to us in the carriage, being chiefly occupied in reading dr. watson's[ ] second volume of _chemical essays_[ ], which he liked very well, and his own _prince of abyssinia_, on which he seemed to be intensely fixed; having told us, that he had not looked at it since it was first published. i happened to take it out of my pocket this day, and he seized upon it with avidity. he pointed out to me the following remarkable passage[ ]:-- 'by what means (said the prince) are the europeans thus powerful; or why, since they can so easily visit asia and africa for trade or conquest, cannot the asiaticks and africans invade their coasts, plant colonies in their ports, and give laws to their natural princes? the same wind that carries them back would bring us thither.' 'they are more powerful, sir, than we, (answered imlac,) because they are wiser. knowledge will always predominate over ignorance, as man governs the other animals. but why their knowledge is more than ours, i know not what reason can be given, but the unsearchable will of the supreme being.' he said, 'this, sir, no man can explain otherwise.' we stopped at welwyn, where i wished much to see, in company with dr. johnson, the residence of the authour of _night thoughts_, which was then possessed by his son, mr. young. here some address was requisite, for i was not acquainted with mr. young, and had i proposed to dr. johnson that we should send to him, he would have checked my wish, and perhaps been offended. i therefore concerted with mr. dilly, that i should steal away from dr. johnson and him, and try what reception i could procure from mr. young; if unfavourable, nothing was to be said; but if agreeable, i should return and notify it to them. i hastened to mr. young's, found he was at home, sent in word that a gentleman desired to wait upon him, and was shewn into a parlour, where he and a young lady, his daughter, were sitting. he appeared to be a plain, civil, country gentleman; and when i begged pardon for presuming to trouble him, but that i wished much to see his place, if he would give me leave; he behaved very courteously, and answered, 'by all means, sir; we are just going to drink tea; will you sit down?' i thanked him, but said, that dr. johnson had come with me from london, and i must return to the inn and drink tea with him; that my name was boswell, i had travelled with him in the hebrides. 'sir, (said he) i should think it a great honour to see dr. johnson here. will you allow me to send for him?' availing myself of this opening, i said that 'i would go myself and bring him, when he had drunk tea; he knew nothing of my calling here.' having been thus successful, i hastened back to the inn, and informed dr. johnson that 'mr. young, son of dr. young, the authour of _night thoughts_, whom i had just left, desired to have the honour of seeing him at the house where his father lived.' dr. johnson luckily made no inquiry how this invitation had arisen, but agreed to go, and when we entered mr. young's parlour, he addressed him with a very polite bow, 'sir, i had a curiosity to come and see this place. i had the honour to know that great man[ ], your father.' we went into the garden, where we found a gravel walk, on each side of which was a row of trees, planted by dr. young, which formed a handsome gothick arch; dr. johnson called it a fine grove. i beheld it with reverence. we sat some time in the summer-house, on the outside wall of which was inscribed, _'ambulantes in horto audiebant vocem dei_[ ];' and in reference to a brook by which it is situated, _'vivendi rectè qui prorogat horam_[ ],' &c. i said to mr. young, that i had been told his father was cheerful[ ]. 'sir, (said he) he was too well-bred a man not to be cheerful in company; but he was gloomy when alone. he never was cheerful after my mother's death, and he had met with many disappointments.' dr. johnson observed to me afterwards, 'that this was no favourable account of dr. young; for it is not becoming in a man to have so little acquiescence in the ways of providence, as to be gloomy because he has not obtained as much preferment as he expected[ ]; nor to continue gloomy for the loss of his wife. grief has its time[ ].' the last part of this censure was theoretically made. practically, we know that grief for the loss of a wife may be continued very long, in proportion as affection has been sincere. no man knew this better than dr. johnson. we went into the church, and looked at the monument erected by mr. young to his father. mr. young mentioned an anecdote, that his father had received several thousand pounds of subscription-money for his _universal passion_, but had lost it in the south-sea[ ]. dr. johnson thought this must be a mistake; for he had never seen a subscription-book. upon the road we talked of the uncertainty of profit with which authours and booksellers engage in the publication of literary works. johnson. 'my judgement i have found is no certain rule as to the sale of a book.' boswell. 'pray, sir, have you been much plagued with authours sending you their works to revise?' johnson. 'no, sir; i have been thought a sour, surly fellow.' boswell. 'very lucky for you, sir,--in that respect.' i must however observe, that notwithstanding what he now said, which he no doubt imagined at the time to be the fact, there was, perhaps, no man who more frequently yielded to the solicitations even of very obscure authours, to read their manuscripts, or more liberally assisted them with advice and correction[ ]. he found himself very happy at 'squire dilly's, where there is always abundance of excellent fare, and hearty welcome. on sunday, june , we all went to southill church, which is very near to mr. dilly's house. it being the first sunday of the month, the holy sacrament was administered, and i staid to partake of it. when i came afterwards into dr. johnson's room, he said, 'you did right to stay and receive the communion; i had not thought of it.' this seemed to imply that he did not choose to approach the altar without a previous preparation, as to which good men entertain different opinions, some holding that it is irreverent to partake of that ordinance without considerable premeditation; others, that whoever is a sincere christian, and in a proper frame of mind to discharge any other ritual duty of our religion, may, without scruple, discharge this most solemn one. a middle notion i believe to be the just one, which is, that communicants need not think a long train of preparatory forms indispensibly necessary; but neither should they rashly and lightly venture upon so aweful and mysterious an institution. christians must judge each for himself, what degree of retirement and self-examination is necessary upon each occasion. being in a frame of mind which, i hope for the felicity of human nature, many experience,--in fine weather,--at the country house of a friend,--consoled and elevated by pious exercises,--i expressed myself with an unrestrained fervour to my 'guide, philosopher, and friend[ ];' 'my dear sir, i would fain be a good man; and i am very good now[ ]. i fear god, and honour the king, i wish to do no ill, and to be benevolent to all mankind.' he looked at me with a benignant indulgence; but took occasion to give me wise and salutary caution. 'do not, sir, accustom yourself to trust to _impressions_. there is a middle state of mind between conviction and hypocrisy, of which many are conscious[ ]. by trusting to impressions, a man may gradually come to yield to them, and at length be subject to them, so as not to be a free agent, or what is the same thing in effect, to _suppose_ that he is not a free agent. a man who is in that state, should not be suffered to live; if he declares he cannot help acting in a particular way, and is irresistibly impelled, there can be no confidence in him, no more than in a tyger. but, sir, no man believes himself to be impelled irresistibly; we know that he who says he believes it, lies. favourable impressions at particular moments, as to the state of our souls, may be deceitful and dangerous. in general no man can be sure of his acceptance with god; some, indeed, may have had it revealed to them. st. paul, who wrought miracles, may have had a miracle wrought on himself, and may have obtained supernatural assurance of pardon, and mercy, and beatitude; yet st. paul, though he expresses strong hope, also expresses fear, lest having preached to others, he himself should be a cast-away[ ].' the opinion of a learned bishop of our acquaintance, as to there being merit in religious faith, being mentioned;--johnson. 'why, yes, sir, the most licentious man, were hell open before him, would not take the most beautiful strumpet to his arms. we must, as the apostle says, live by faith, not by sight[ ].' i talked to him of original sin[ ], in consequence of the fall of man, and of the atonement made by our saviour. after some conversation, which he desired me to remember, he, at my request, dictated to me as follows:-- 'with respect to original sin, the inquiry is not necessary; for whatever is the cause of human corruption, men are evidently and confessedly so corrupt, that all the laws of heaven and earth are insufficient to restrain them from crimes. 'whatever difficulty there may be in the conception of vicarious punishments, it is an opinion which has had possession of mankind in all ages. there is no nation that has not used the practice of sacrifices. whoever, therefore, denies the propriety of vicarious punishments, holds an opinion which the sentiments and practice of mankind have contradicted, from the beginning of the world. the great sacrifice for the sins of mankind was offered at the death of the messiah, who is called in scripture "the lamb of god, that taketh away the sins[ ] of the world." to judge of the reasonableness of the scheme of redemption, it must be considered as necessary to the government of the universe, that god should make known his perpetual and irreconcileable detestation of moral evil. he might indeed punish, and punish only the offenders; but as the end of punishment is not revenge of crimes, but propagation of virtue, it was more becoming the divine clemency to find another manner of proceeding, less destructive to man, and at least equally powerful to promote goodness. the end of punishment is to reclaim and warn. _that_ punishment will both reclaim and warn, which shews evidently such abhorrence of sin in god, as may deter us from it, or strike us with dread of vengeance when we have committed it. this is effected by vicarious punishment. nothing could more testify the opposition between the nature of god and moral evil, or more amply display his justice, to men and angels, to all orders and successions of beings, than that it was necessary for the highest and purest nature, even for divinity itself, to pacify the demands of vengeance, by a painful death; of which the natural effect will be, that when justice is appeased, there is a proper place for the exercise of mercy; and that such propitiation shall supply, in some degree, the imperfections of our obedience, and the inefficacy of our repentance: for, obedience and repentance, such as we can perform, are still necessary. our saviour has told us, that he did not come to destroy the law, but to fulfill; to fulfill the typical law, by the performance of what those types had foreshewn; and the moral law, by precepts of greater purity and higher exaltation.' [here he said, 'god bless you with it.' i acknowledged myself much obliged to him; but i begged that he would go on as to the propitiation being the chief object of our most holy faith. he then dictated this one other paragraph.] 'the peculiar doctrine of christianity is, that of an universal sacrifice, and perpetual propitiation. other prophets only proclaimed the will and the threatenings of god. christ satisfied his justice[ ].' the reverend mr. palmer[ ], fellow of queen's college, cambridge, dined with us. he expressed a wish that a better provision were made for parish-clerks. johnson. 'yes, sir, a parish-clerk should be a man who is able to make a will, or write a letter for any body in the parish.' i mentioned lord monboddo's notion[ ] that the ancient egyptians, with all their learning, and all their arts, were not only black, but woolly-haired. mr. palmer asked how did it appear upon examining the mummies? dr. johnson approved of this test[ ]. although upon most occasions[ ] i never heard a more strenuous advocate for the advantages of wealth, than dr. johnson: he this day, i know not from what caprice, took the other side. 'i have not observed (said he) that men of very large fortunes enjoy any thing extraordinary that makes happiness. what has the duke of bedford? what has the duke of devonshire? the only great instance that i have ever known of the enjoyment of wealth was, that of jamaica dawkins, who, going to visit palmyra, and hearing that the way was infested by robbers, hired a troop of turkish horse to guard him[ ].' dr. gibbons[ ], the dissenting minister, being mentioned, he said, 'i took to dr. gibbons.' and addressing himself to mr. charles dilly, added, 'i shall be glad to see him. tell him, if he'll call on me, and dawdle[ ] over a dish of tea in an afternoon, i shall take it kind.' the reverend mr. smith, vicar of southill, a very respectable man, with a very agreeable family, sent an invitation to us to drink tea. i remarked dr. johnson's very respectful[ ] politeness. though always fond of changing the scene, he said, 'we must have mr. dilly's leave. we cannot go from your house, sir, without your permission.' we all went, and were well satisfied with our visit. i however remember nothing particular, except a nice distinction which dr. johnson made with respect to the power of memory, maintaining that forgetfulness was a man's own fault[ ]. 'to remember and to recollect (said he) are different things. a man has not the power to recollect what is not in his mind; but when a thing is in his mind he may remember it.' the remark was occasioned by my leaning back on a chair, which a little before i had perceived to be broken, and pleading forgetfulness as an excuse. 'sir, (said he,) its being broken was certainly in your mind[ ].' when i observed that a housebreaker was in general very timorous; johnson. 'no wonder, sir; he is afraid of being shot getting _into_ a house, or hanged when he has got _out_ of it.' he told us, that he had in one day written six sheets of a translation from the french[ ], adding, 'i should be glad to see it now. i wish that i had copies of all the pamphlets written against me, as it is said pope had. had i known that i should make so much noise in the world, i should have been at pains to collect them. i believe there is hardly a day in which there is not something about me in the newspapers.' on monday, june , we all went to luton-hoe, to see lord bute's magnificent seat[ ], for which i had obtained a ticket. as we entered the park, i talked in a high style of my old friendship with lord mountstuart[ ], and said, 'i shall probably be much at this place.' the sage, aware of human vicissitudes, gently checked me: 'don't you be too sure of that.' he made two or three peculiar observations; as when shewn the botanical garden, 'is not every garden a botanical garden?' when told that there was a shrubbery to the extent of several miles: 'that is making a very foolish use of the ground; a little of it is very well.' when it was proposed that we should walk on the pleasure-ground; 'don't let us fatigue ourselves. why should we walk there? here's a fine tree, let's get to the top of it.' but upon the whole, he was very much pleased. he said, 'this is one of the places i do not regret having come to see. it is a very stately place, indeed; in the house magnificence is not sacrificed to convenience, nor convenience to magnificence. the library is very splendid: the dignity of the rooms is very great; and the quantity of pictures is beyond expectation, beyond hope.' it happened without any previous concert, that we visited the seat of lord bute upon the king's birthday; we dined and drank his majesty's health at an inn, in the village of luton. in the evening i put him in mind of his promise to favour me with a copy of his celebrated letter to the earl of chesterfield, and he was at last pleased to comply with this earnest request, by dictating it to me from his memory; for he believed that he himself had no copy[ ]. there was an animated glow in his countenance while he thus recalled his high-minded indignation. he laughed heartily at a ludicrous action in the court of session, in which i was counsel. the society of _procurators_, or attornies, entitled to practise in the inferiour courts at edinburgh, had obtained a royal charter, in which they had taken care to have their ancient designation of procurators changed into that of _solicitors_, from a notion, as they supposed, that it was more genteel[ ]; and this new title they displayed by a publick advertisement for a _general meeting_ at their hall. it has been said, that the scottish nation is not distinguished for humour; and, indeed, what happened on this occasion may in some degree justify the remark: for although this society had contrived to make themselves a very prominent object for the ridicule of such as might stoop to it, the only joke to which it gave rise, was the following paragraph, sent to the newspaper called _the caledonian mercury_:-- 'a correspondent informs us, that the worshipful society of _chaldeans_, _cadies_[ ], or _running stationers_ of this city are resolved, in imitation, and encouraged by the singular success of their brethren, of an equally respectable society, to apply for a charter of their privileges, particularly of the sole privilege of procuring, in the most extensive sense of the word[ ], exclusive of chairmen, porters, penny-post men, and other _inferiour_ ranks; their brethren the r--y--l s--ll--rs, _alias_ p--c--rs, _before the_ inferiour courts of this city, always excepted. 'should the worshipful society be successful, they are farther resolved not to be _puffed up_ thereby, but to demean themselves with more equanimity and decency than their _r--y--l, learned_, and _very modest_ brethren above mentioned have done, upon their late dignification and exaltation.' a majority of the members of the society prosecuted mr. robertson, the publisher of the paper, for damages; and the first judgement of the whole court very wisely dismissed the action: _solventur risu tabulae, tu missus abibis_[ ]. but a new trial or review was granted upon a petition, according to the forms in scotland. this petition i was engaged to answer, and dr. johnson with great alacrity furnished me this evening with what follows:-- 'all injury is either of the person, the fortune, or the fame. now it is a certain thing, it is proverbially known, that _a jest breaks no bones_. they never have gained half-a-crown less in the whole profession since this mischievous paragraph has appeared; and, as to their reputation, what is their reputation but an instrument of getting money? if, therefore, they have lost no money, the question upon reputation may be answered by a very old position,--_de minimis non curat praetor_. 'whether there was, or was not, an _animus injuriandi_, is not worth inquiring, if no _injuria_ can be proved. but the truth is, there was no _animus injuriandi_. it was only an _animus irritandi[ ]_, which, happening to be exercised upon a _genus irritabile_, produced unexpected violence of resentment. their irritability arose only from an opinion of their own importance, and their delight in their new exaltation. what might have been borne by a _procurator_ could not be borne by a _solicitor_. your lordships well know, that _honores mutant mores_. titles and dignities play strongly on the fancy. as a madman is apt to think himself grown suddenly great, so he that grows suddenly great is apt to borrow a little from the madman. to co-operate with their resentment would be to promote their phrenzy; nor is it possible to guess to what they might proceed, if to the new title of solicitor, should be added the elation of victory and triumph. 'we consider your lordships as the protectors of our rights, and the guardians of our virtues; but believe it not included in your high office, that you should flatter our vices, or solace our vanity: and, as vanity only dictates this prosecution, it is humbly hoped your lordships will dismiss it. 'if every attempt, however light or ludicrous, to lessen another's reputation, is to be punished by a judicial sentence, what punishment can be sufficiently severe for him who attempts to diminish the reputation of the supreme court of justice, by reclaiming upon a cause already determined, without any change in the state of the question? does it not imply hopes that the judges will change their opinion? is not uncertainty and inconstancy in the highest degree disreputable to a court? does it not suppose, that the former judgement was temerarious or negligent? does it not lessen the confidence of the publick? will it not be said, that _jus est aut incognitum aut vagum?_ and will not the consequence be drawn, _misera est servitus[ ]?_ will not the rules of action be obscure? will not he who knows himself wrong to-day, hope that the courts of justice will think him right to-morrow? surely, my lords, these are attempts of dangerous tendency, which the solicitors, as men versed in the law, should have foreseen and avoided. it was natural for an ignorant printer to appeal from the lord ordinary; but from lawyers, the descendants of lawyers, who have practised for three hundred years, and have now raised themselves to a higher denomination, it might be expected, that they should know the reverence due to a judicial determination; and, having been once dismissed, should sit down in silence.' i am ashamed to mention, that the court, by a plurality of voices, without having a single additional circumstance before them, reversed their own judgement, made a serious matter of this dull and foolish joke, and adjudged mr. robertson to pay to the society five pounds (sterling money) and costs of suit. the decision will seem strange to english lawyers. on tuesday, june , johnson was to return to london. he was very pleasant at breakfast; i mentioned a friend of mine having resolved never to marry a pretty woman. johnson. 'sir, it is a very foolish resolution to resolve not to marry a pretty woman. beauty is of itself very estimable. no, sir, i would prefer a pretty woman, unless there are objections to her. a pretty woman may be foolish; a pretty woman may be wicked; a pretty woman may not like me. but there is no such danger in marrying a pretty woman as is apprehended: she will not be persecuted if she does not invite persecution. a pretty woman, if she has a mind to be wicked, can find a readier way than another; and that is all.' i accompanied him in mr. dilly's chaise to shefford, where talking of lord bute's never going to scotland, he said, 'as an englishman, i should wish all the scotch gentlemen should be educated in england; scotland would become a province; they would spend all their rents in england.' this is a subject of much consequence, and much delicacy. the advantage of an english education is unquestionably very great to scotch gentlemen of talents and ambition; and regular visits to scotland, and perhaps other means, might be effectually used to prevent them from being totally estranged from their native country, any more than a cumberland or northumberland gentleman who has been educated in the south of england. i own, indeed, that it is no small misfortune for scotch gentlemen, who have neither talents nor ambition, to be educated in england, where they may be perhaps distinguished only by a nick-name, lavish their fortune in giving expensive entertainments to those who laugh at them, and saunter about as mere idle insignificant hangers on even upon the foolish great; when if they had been judiciously brought up at home, they might have been comfortable and creditable members of society. at shefford i had another affectionate parting from my revered friend, who was taken up by the bedford coach and carried to the metropolis. i went with messieurs dilly, to see some friends at bedford; dined with the officers of the militia of the county, and next day proceeded on my journey. 'to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, 'how welcome your account of yourself and your invitation to your new house was to me, i need not tell you, who consider our friendship not only as formed by choice, but as matured by time. we have been now long enough acquainted to have many images in common, and therefore to have a source of conversation which neither the learning nor the wit of a new companion can supply. 'my _lives_ are now published; and if you will tell me whither i shall send them, that they may come to you, i will take care that you shall not be without them. 'you will, perhaps, be glad to hear, that mrs. thrale is disencumbered of her brewhouse; and that it seemed to the purchaser so far from an evil, that he was content to give for it an hundred and thirty-five thousand pounds. is the nation ruined? 'please to make my respectful compliments to lady rothes, and keep me in the memory of all the little dear family, particularly pretty mrs. jane.[ ] 'i am, sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, june , .' johnson's charity to the poor was uniform and extensive, both from inclination and principle. he not only bestowed liberally out of his own purse, but what is more difficult as well as rare, would beg from others, when he had proper objects in view. this he did judiciously as well as humanely. mr. philip metcalfe[ ] tells me, that when he has asked him for some money for persons in distress, and mr. metcalfe has offered what johnson thought too much, he insisted on taking less, saying 'no, no, sir; we must not _pamper_ them.' i am indebted to mr. malone, one of sir joshua reynolds's executors, for the following note, which was found among his papers after his death, and which, we may presume, his unaffected modesty prevented him from communicating to me with the other letters from dr. johnson with which he was pleased to furnish me. however slight in itself, as it does honour to that illustrious painter, and most amiable man, i am happy to introduce it. 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'it was not before yesterday that i received your splendid benefaction. to a hand so liberal in distributing, i hope nobody will envy the power of acquiring. 'i am, dear sir, your obliged and most humble servant, sam, johnson. june , .' 'to thomas astle, esq.[ ] 'sir, 'i am ashamed that you have been forced to call so often for your books, but it has been by no fault on either side. they have never been out of my hands, nor have i ever been at home without seeing you; for to see a man so skilful in the antiquities of my country, is an opportunity of improvement not willingly to be missed. 'your notes on alfred[ ] appear to me very judicious and accurate, but they are too few. many things familiar to you, are unknown to me, and to most others; and you must not think too favourably of your readers: by supposing them knowing, you will leave them ignorant. measure of land, and value of money, it is of great importance to state with care. had the saxons any gold coin? 'i have much curiosity after the manners and transactions of the middle ages, but have wanted either diligence or opportunity, or both. you, sir, have great opportunities, and i wish you both diligence and success. 'i am, sir, &c. sam. johnson. july , .' the following curious anecdote i insert in dr. burney's own words:-- 'dr. burney related to dr. johnson the partiality which his writings had excited in a friend of dr. burney's, the late mr. bewley, well known in norfolk by the name of the _philosopher of massingham_[ ]: who, from the _ramblers_ and plan of his _dictionary_, and long before the authour's fame was established by the _dictionary_ itself, or any other work, had conceived such a reverence for him, that he urgently begged dr. burney to give him the cover of the first letter he had received from him, as a relick of so estimable a writer. this was in . in [ ], when dr. burney visited dr. johnson at the temple in london, where he had then chambers, he happened to arrive there before he was up; and being shewn into the room where he was to breakfast, finding himself alone, he examined the contents of the apartment, to try whether he could undiscovered steal any thing to send to his friend bewley, as another relick of the admirable dr. johnson. but finding nothing better to his purpose, he cut some bristles off his hearth-broom, and enclosed them in a letter to his country enthusiast, who received them with due reverence. the doctor was so sensible of the honour done him by a man of genius and science, to whom he was an utter stranger, that he said to dr. burney, "sir, there is no man possessed of the smallest portion of modesty, but must be flattered with the admiration of such a man. i'll give him a set of my _lives_, if he will do me the honour to accept of them[ ]." in this he kept his word; and dr. burney had not only the pleasure of gratifying his friend with a present more worthy of his acceptance than the segment from the hearth-broom, but soon after of introducing him to dr. johnson himself in bolt-court, with whom he had the satisfaction of conversing a considerable time, not a fortnight before his death; which happened in st. martin's-street, during his visit to dr. burney, in the house where the great sir isaac newton had lived and died before.' in one of his little memorandum-books is the following minute:-- 'august , p.m., aetat. , in the summer-house at streatham. after innumerable resolutions formed and neglected, i have retired hither, to plan a life of greater diligence, in hope that i may yet be useful, and be daily better prepared to appear before my creator and my judge, from whose infinite mercy i humbly call for assistance and support. 'my purpose is, 'to pass eight hours every day in some serious employment. 'having prayed, i purpose to employ the next six weeks upon the italian language, for my settled study.' how venerably pious does he appear in these moments of solitude, and how spirited are his resolutions for the improvement of his mind, even in elegant literature, at a very advanced period of life, and when afflicted with many complaints[ ]. in autumn he went to oxford, birmingham, lichfield, and ashbourne, for which very good reasons might be given in the conjectural yet positive manner of writers, who are proud to account for every event which they relate[ ]. he himself, however, says, 'the motives of my journey i hardly know; i omitted it last year, and am not willing to miss it again[ ].' but some good considerations arise, amongst which is the kindly recollection of mr. hector, surgeon at birmingham: 'hector is likewise an old friend, the only companion of my childhood that passed through the school with me. we have always loved one another; perhaps we may be made better by some serious conversation, of which however i have no distinct hope.' he says too, 'at lichfield, my native place, i hope to shew a good example by frequent attendance on publick worship.' my correspondence with him during the rest of this year was i know not why very scanty, and all on my side. i wrote him one letter to introduce mr. sinclair (now sir john), the member for caithness, to his acquaintance; and informed him in another that my wife had again been affected with alarming symptoms of illness. : aetat. .--in , his complaints increased, and the history of his life this year, is little more than a mournful recital of the variations of his illness, in the midst of which, however, it will appear from his letters, that the powers of his mind were in no degree impaired. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i sit down to answer your letter on the same day in which i received it, and am pleased that my first letter of the year is to you. no man ought to be at ease while he knows himself in the wrong; and i have not satisfied myself with my long silence. the letter relating to mr. sinclair, however, was, i believe, never brought. 'my health has been tottering this last year; and i can give no very laudable account of my time. i am always hoping to do better than i have ever hitherto done. 'my journey to ashbourne and staffordshire was not pleasant; for what enjoyment has a sick man visiting the sick[ ]?--shall we ever have another frolick like our journey to the hebrides? 'i hope that dear mrs. boswell will surmount her complaints; in losing her you would lose your anchor, and be tost, without stability, by the waves of life[ ]. i wish both her and you very many years, and very happy. 'for some months past i have been so withdrawn from the world, that i can send you nothing particular. all your friends, however, are well, and will be glad of your return to london. 'i am, dear sir, 'yours most affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'january , .' at a time when he was less able than he had once been to sustain a shock, he was suddenly deprived of mr. levett, which event he thus communicated to dr. lawrence:-- 'sir, 'our old friend, mr. levett, who was last night eminently cheerful, died this morning. the man who lay in the same room, hearing an uncommon noise, got up and tried to make him speak, but without effect. he then called mr. holder, the apothecary, who, though when he came he thought him dead, opened a vein, but could draw no blood. so has ended the long life of a very useful and very blameless man. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' in one of his memorandum-books in my possession, is the following entry:-- 'january , sunday. robert levett was buried in the church-yard of bridewell, between one and two in the afternoon. he died on thursday , about seven in the morning, by an instantaneous death. he was an old and faithful friend; i have known him from about . _commendavi_. may god have mercy on him. may he have mercy on me.' such was johnson's affectionate regard for levett[ ], that he honoured his memory with the following pathetick verses:-- 'condemd'd to hope's delusive mine, as on we toil from day to day, by sudden blast or slow decline our social comforts drop away. well try'd through many a varying year, see levett to the grave descend; officious, innocent, sincere, of every friendless name the friend[ ]. yet still he fills affection's eye, obscurely wise[ ], and coarsely kind; nor, letter'd arrogance[ ], deny thy praise to merit unrefin'd. when fainting nature call'd for aid, and hov'ring death prepar'd the blow, his vigorous remedy display'd the power of art without the show. in misery's darkest caverns known, his ready help was ever nigh, where hopeless anguish pour'd his groan, and lonely want retir'd to die[ ]. no summons mock'd by chill delay, no petty gains disdain'd by pride; the modest wants of every day the toil of every day supply'd. his virtues walk'd their narrow round, nor made a pause, nor left a void; and sure the eternal master found his single talent well employ'd. the busy day, the peaceful night[ ], unfelt, uncounted, glided by; his frame was firm, his powers were bright, though now his eightieth year was nigh[ ]. then, with no throbs of fiery pain, no cold gradations of decay, death broke at once the vital chain, and freed his soul the nearest way.' in one of johnson's registers of this year, there occurs the following curious passage:-- 'jan. [ ]. the ministry is dissolved. i prayed with francis and gave thanks[ ].' it has been the subject of discussion, whether there are two distinct particulars mentioned here? or that we are to understand the giving of thanks to be in consequence of the dissolution of the ministry? in support of the last of these conjectures may be urged his mean opinion of that ministry, which has frequently appeared in the course of this work[ ]; and it is strongly confirmed by what he said on the subject to mr. seward:--'i am glad the ministry is removed. such a bunch of imbecility never disgraced a country[ ]. if they sent a messenger into the city to take up a printer, the messenger was taken up instead of the printer, and committed by the sitting alderman[ ]. if they sent one army to the relief of another, the first army was defeated and taken before the second arrived[ ]. i will not say that what they did was always wrong; but it was always done at a wrong time[ ].' 'to mrs. strahan. 'dear madam, 'mrs. williams shewed me your kind letter. this little habitation is now but a melancholy place, clouded with the gloom of disease and death. of the four inmates, one has been suddenly snatched away; two are oppressed by very afflictive and dangerous illness; and i tried yesterday to gain some relief by a third bleeding, from a disorder which has for some time distressed me, and i think myself to-day much better. 'i am glad, dear madam, to hear that you are so far recovered as to go to bath. let me once more entreat you to stay till your health is not only obtained, but confirmed. your fortune is such as that no moderate expence deserves your care; and you have a husband, who, i believe, does not regard it. stay, therefore, till you are quite well. i am, for my part, very much deserted; but complaint is useless. i hope god will bless you, and i desire you to form the same wish for me. 'i am, dear madam, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' 'to edmond malone, esq. 'sir, 'i have for many weeks been so much out of order, that i have gone out only in a coach to mrs. thrale's, where i can use all the freedom that sickness requires. do not, therefore, take it amiss, that i am not with you and dr. farmer. i hope hereafter to see you often. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' to the same. 'dear sir, 'i hope i grow better, and shall soon be able to enjoy the kindness of my friends. i think this wild adherence to chatterton[ ] more unaccountable than the obstinate defence of ossian. in ossian there is a national pride, which may be forgiven, though it cannot be applauded. in chatterton there is nothing but the resolution to say again what has once been said. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'march , .' these short letters shew the regard which dr. johnson entertained for mr. malone, who the more he is known is the more highly valued. it is much to be regretted that johnson was prevented from sharing the elegant hospitality of that gentleman's table, at which he would in every respect have been fully gratified. mr. malone, who has so ably succeeded him as an editor of shakspeare, has, in his preface, done great and just honour to johnson's memory. 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam, 'i went away from lichfield ill, and have had a troublesome time with my breath; for some weeks i have been disordered by a cold, of which i could not get the violence abated, till i had been let blood three times. i have not, however, been so bad but that i could have written, and am sorry that i neglected it. 'my dwelling is but melancholy; both williams, and desmoulins, and myself, are very sickly: frank is not well; and poor levett died in his bed the other day, by a sudden stroke; i suppose not one minute passed between health and death; so uncertain are human things. 'such is the appearance of the world about me; i hope your scenes are more cheerful. but whatever befalls us, though it is wise to be serious, it is useless and foolish, and perhaps sinful, to be gloomy. let us, therefore, keep ourselves as easy as we can; though the loss of friends will be felt, and poor levett had been a faithful adherent for thirty years. 'forgive me, my dear love, the omission of writing; i hope to mend that and my other faults. let me have your prayers. 'make my compliments to mrs. cobb, and miss adey, and mr. pearson, and the whole company of my friends. i am, my dear, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' to the same. 'dear madam, 'my last was but a dull letter, and i know not that this will be much more cheerful; i am, however, willing to write, because you are desirous to hear from me. 'my disorder has now begun its ninth week, for it is not yet over. i was last thursday blooded for the fourth time, and have since found myself much relieved, but i am very tender and easily hurt; so that since we parted i have had but little comfort, but i hope that the spring will recover me; and that in the summer i shall see lichfield again, for i will not delay my visit another year to the end of autumn. 'i have, by advertising, found poor mr. levett's brothers in yorkshire, who will take the little he has left: it is but little, yet it will be welcome, for i believe they are of very low condition. 'to be sick, and to see nothing but sickness and death, is but a gloomy state; but i hope better times, even in this world, will come, and whatever this world may withhold or give, we shall be happy in a better state. pray for me, my dear lucy. 'make my compliments to mrs. cobb, and miss adey, and my old friend hetty baily, and to all the lichfield ladies. 'i am, dear madam, 'yours, affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, fleet-street, march , .' on the day on which this letter was written, he thus feelingly mentions his respected friend and physician, dr. lawrence:-- 'poor lawrence has almost lost the sense of hearing; and i have lost the conversation of a learned, intelligent, and communicative companion, and a friend whom long familiarity has much endeared. lawrence is one of the best men whom i have known.--_nostrum omnium miserere deus_[ ].' it was dr. johnson's custom when he wrote to dr. lawrence concerning his own health, to use the latin language[ ]. i have been favoured by miss lawrence with one of these letters as a specimen:-- 't. lawrencio, _medico, s_. 'novum _frigus, nova tussis, nova spirandi difficultas, novam sanguinis missionem suadent, quam tamen te inconsulto nolim fieri. ad te venire vix possum, nec est cur ad me venias. licere vel non licere uno verbo dicendum est; catera mihi et holdero[ ] reliqueris. si per te licet, imperatur[ ] nuncio holderum ad me deducere. 'maiis calendis, . 'postquàm tu discesseris, quò me vertam[ ]?'_ to captain langton[ ], in rochester. 'dear sir, 'it is now long since we saw one another; and whatever has been the reason neither you have written to me, nor i to you. to let friendship die away by negligence and silence, is certainly not wise. it is voluntarily to throw away one of the greatest comforts of this weary pilgrimage, of which when it is, as it must be, taken finally away, he that travels on alone, will wonder how his esteem could be so little. do not forget me; you see that i do not forget you. it is pleasing in the silence of solitude to think, that there is one at least, however distant, of whose benevolence there is little doubt, and whom there is yet hope of seeing again[ ]. 'of my life, from the time we parted, the history is mournful. the spring of last year deprived me of thrale, a man whose eye for fifteen years had scarcely been turned upon me but with respect or tenderness[ ]; for such another friend, the general course of human things will not suffer man to hope. i passed the summer at streatham, but there was no thrale; and having idled away the summer with a weakly body and neglected mind, i made a journey to staffordshire on the edge of winter. the season was dreary, i was sickly, and found the friends sickly whom i went to see. after a sorrowful sojourn, i returned to a habitation possessed for the present by two sick women, where my dear old friend, mr. levett, to whom as he used to tell me, i owe your acquaintance[ ], died a few weeks ago, suddenly in his bed; there passed not, i believe, a minute between health and death. at night, as at mrs. thrale's i was musing in my chamber, i thought with uncommon earnestness, that however i might alter my mode of life, or whithersoever i might remove[ ], i would endeavour to retain levett about me; in the morning my servant brought me word that levett was called to another state, a state for which, i think, he was not unprepared, for he was very useful to the poor. how much soever i valued him, i now wish that i had valued him more[ ]. 'i have myself been ill more than eight weeks of a disorder, from which at the expence of about fifty ounces of blood, i hope i am now recovering. 'you, dear sir, have, i hope, a more cheerful scene; you see george fond of his book, and the pretty misses airy and lively, with my own little jenny[ ] equal to the best[ ]: and in whatever can contribute to your quiet or pleasure, you have lady rothes ready to concur. may whatever you enjoy of good be encreased, and whatever you suffer of evil be diminished. i am, dear sir, your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, fleet-street, march , .' 'to mr. hector, in birmingham[ ]. 'dear sir, 'i hope i do not very grossly flatter myself to imagine that you and dear mrs. careless[ ] will be glad to hear some account of me. i performed the journey to london with very little inconvenience, and came safe to my habitation, where i found nothing but ill health, and, of consequence, very little cheerfulness. i then went to visit a little way into the country, where i got a complaint by a cold which has hung eight weeks upon me, and from which i am, at the expence of fifty ounces of blood, not yet free. i am afraid i must once more owe my recovery to warm weather, which seems to make no advances towards us. 'such is my health, which will, i hope, soon grow better. in other respects i have no reason to complain. i know not that i have written any thing more generally commended than the _lives of the poets_; and have found the world willing enough to caress me, if my health had invited me to be in much company; but this season i have been almost wholly employed in nursing myself. 'when summer comes i hope to see you again, and will not put off my visit to the end of the year. i have lived so long in london, that i did not remember the difference of seasons. 'your health, when i saw you, was much improved. you will be prudent enough not to put it in danger. i hope, when we meet again, we shall all congratulate each other upon fair prospects of longer life; though what are the pleasures of the longest life, when placed in comparison with a happy death? 'i am, dear sir, 'yours most affectionately, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' to the same. [without a date, but supposed to be about this time.][ ] 'dear sir, 'that you and dear mrs. careless should have care or curiosity about my health, gives me that pleasure which every man feels from finding himself not forgotten. in age we feel again that love of our native place and our early friends, which in the bustle or amusements of middle life were overborne and suspended. you and i should now naturally cling to one another: we have outlived most of those who could pretend to rival us in each other's kindness. in our walk through life we have dropped our companions, and are now to pick up such as chance may offer us, or to travel on alone[ ]. you, indeed, have a sister, with whom you can divide the day: i have no natural friend left; but providence has been pleased to preserve me from neglect; i have not wanted such alleviations of life as friendship could supply. my health has been, from my twentieth year, such as has seldom afforded me a single day of ease[ ]; but it is at least not worse: and i sometimes make myself believe that it is better. my disorders are, however, still sufficiently oppressive. 'i think of seeing staffordshire again this autumn, and intend to find my way through birmingham, where i hope to see you and dear mrs. careless well. i am sir, 'your affectionate friend, 'sam. johnson.' i wrote to him at different dates; regretted that i could not come to london this spring, but hoped we should meet somewhere in the summer; mentioned the state of my affairs, and suggested hopes of some preferment; informed him, that as _the beauties of johnson_ had been published in london, some obscure scribbler had published at edinburgh what he called _the deformities of johnson_. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'the pleasure which we used to receive from each other on good-friday and easter-day[ ], we must be this year content to miss. let us, however, pray for each other, and hope to see one another yet from time to time with mutual delight. my disorder has been a cold, which impeded the organs of respiration, and kept me many weeks in a state of great uneasiness; but by repeated phlebotomy it is now relieved; and next to the recovery of mrs. boswell, i flatter myself, that you will rejoice at mine. 'what we shall do in the summer it is yet too early to consider. you want to know what you shall do now; i do not think this time of bustle and confusion[ ] likely to produce any advantage to you. every man has those to reward and gratify who have contributed to his advancement. to come hither with such expectations at the expence of borrowed money, which, i find, you know not where to borrow, can hardly be considered as prudent. i am sorry to find, what your solicitation seems to imply, that you have already gone the whole length of your credit. this is to set the quiet of your whole life at hazard. if you anticipate your inheritance, you can at last inherit nothing; all that you receive must pay for the past. you must get a place, or pine in penury, with the empty name of a great estate. poverty, my dear friend, is so great an evil, and pregnant with so much temptation, and so much misery, that i cannot but earnestly enjoin you to avoid it[ ]. live on what you have; live if you can on less; do not borrow either for vanity or pleasure; the vanity will end in shame, and the pleasure in regret: stay therefore at home, till you have saved money for your journey hither. _the beauties of johnson_ are said to have got money to the collector; if the _deformities_ have the same success, i shall be still a more extensive benefactor. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, who is, i hope, reconciled to me; and to the young people whom i never have offended. 'you never told me the success of your plea against the solicitors[ ]. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' notwithstanding his afflicted state of body[ ] and mind this year, the following correspondence affords a proof not only of his benevolence and conscientious readiness to relieve a good man from errour, but by his cloathing one of the sentiments in his _rambler_ in different language, not inferiour to that of the original, shews his extraordinary command of clear and forcible expression. a clergyman at bath wrote to him, that in _the morning chronicle_, a passage in _the beauties of johnson_[ ], article death, had been pointed out as supposed by some readers to recommend suicide, the words being, 'to die is the fate of man; but to die with lingering anguish is generally his folly;' and respectfully suggesting to him, that such an erroneous notion of any sentence in the writings of an acknowledged friend of religion and virtue, should not pass uncontradicted. johnson thus answered the clergyman's letter:-- to the reverend mr. ----, at bath. 'sir, 'being now[ ] in the country in a state of recovery, as i hope, from a very oppressive disorder, i cannot neglect the acknowledgement of your christian letter. the book called _the beauties of johnson_ is the production of i know not whom: i never saw it but by casual inspection, and considered myself as utterly disengaged from its consequences. of the passage you mention, i remember some notice in some paper; but knowing that it must be misrepresented, i thought of it no more, nor do i know where to find it in my own books. i am accustomed to think little of newspapers; but an opinion so weighty and serious as yours has determined me to do, what i should, without your seasonable admonition, have omitted; and i will direct my thought to be shewn in its true state[ ]. if i could find the passage, i would direct you to it. i suppose the tenour is this:--'acute diseases are the immediate and inevitable strokes of heaven; but of them the pain is short, and the conclusion speedy; chronical disorders, by which we are suspended in tedious torture between life and death, are commonly the effect of our own misconduct and intemperance. to die, &c.'--this, sir, you see is all true and all blameless. i hope, some time in the next week, to have all rectified. my health has been lately much shaken: if you favour me with any answer, it will be a comfort to me to know that i have your prayers. 'i am, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' this letter, as might be expected, had its full effect, and the clergyman acknowledged it in grateful and pious terms[ ]. the following letters require no extracts from mine to introduce them:-- 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'the earnestness and tenderness of your letter is such, that i cannot think myself shewing it more respect than it claims by sitting down to answer it the day on which i received it. 'this year has afflicted me with a very irksome and severe disorder. my respiration has been much impeded, and much blood has been taken away. i am now harrassed by a catarrhous cough, from which my purpose is to seek relief by change of air; and i am, therefore, preparing to go to oxford[ ]. 'whether i did right in dissuading you from coming to london this spring, i will not determine. you have not lost much by missing my company; i have scarcely been well for a single week. i might have received comfort from your kindness; but you would have seen me afflicted, and, perhaps, found me peevish. whatever might have been your pleasure or mine, i know not how i could have honestly advised you to come hither with borrowed money. do not accustom yourself to consider debt only as an inconvenience; you will find it a calamity. poverty takes away so many means of doing good, and produces so much inability to resist evil, both natural and moral, that it is by all virtuous means to be avoided. consider a man whose fortune is very narrow; whatever be his rank by birth, or whatever his reputation by intellectual excellence, what good can he do? or what evil can he prevent? that he cannot help the needy is evident; he has nothing to spare. but, perhaps, his advice or admonition may be useful. his poverty will destroy his influence: many more can find that he is poor, than that he is wise; and few will reverence the understanding that is of so little advantage to its owner. i say nothing of the personal wretched-ness of a debtor, which, however, has passed into a proverb[ ]. of riches, it is not necessary to write the praise[ ]. let it, however, be remembered, that he who has money to spare, has it always in his power to benefit others; and of such power a good man must always be desirous. 'i am pleased with your account of easter[ ]. we shall meet, i hope in autumn, both well and both cheerful; and part each the better for the other's company. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell, and to the young charmers. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, june , .' 'to mr. perkins[ ]. 'dear sir, i am much pleased that you are going a very long journey, which may by proper conduct restore your health and prolong your life. 'observe these rules: . turn all care out of your head as soon as you mount the chaise. . do not think about frugality; your health is worth more than it can cost. . do not continue any day's journey to fatigue. . take now and then a day's rest. . get a smart sea-sickness, if you can. . cast away all anxiety, and keep your mind easy. 'this last direction is the principal; with an unquiet mind, neither exercise, nor diet, nor physick, can be of much use. 'i wish you, dear sir, a prosperous journey, and a happy recovery. i am, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'july , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'being uncertain whether i should have any call this autumn into the country, i did not immediately answer your kind letter. i have no call; but if you desire to meet me at ashbourne, i believe i can come thither; if you had rather come to london, i can stay at streatham; take your choice. 'this year has been very heavy. from the middle of january to the middle of june i was battered by one disorder after another! i am now very much recovered, and hope still to be better. what happiness it is that mrs. boswell has escaped. 'my _lives_ are reprinting, and i have forgotten the authour of gray's character[ ]: write immediately, and it may be perhaps yet inserted. 'of london or ashbourne you have your free choice; at any place i shall be glad to see you. i am, dear sir, 'yours &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'aug. , .' on the oth of august, i informed him that my honoured father had died that morning; a complaint under which he had long laboured having suddenly come to a crisis, while i was upon a visit at the seat of sir charles preston, from whence i had hastened the day before, upon receiving a letter by express. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have struggled through this year with so much infirmity of body, and such strong impressions of the fragility of life, that death, whenever it appears, fills me with melancholy; and i cannot hear without emotion, of the removal of any one, whom i have known, into another state. 'your father's death had every circumstance that could enable you to bear it; it was at a mature age, and it was expected; and as his general life had been pious, his thoughts had doubtless for many years past been turned upon eternity. that you did not find him sensible must doubtless grieve you; his disposition towards you was undoubtedly that of a kind, though not of a fond father. kindness, at least actual, is in our power, but fondness is not; and if by negligence or imprudence you had extinguished his fondness, he could not at will rekindle it. nothing then remained between you but mutual forgiveness of each other's faults, and mutual desire of each other's happiness. 'i shall long to know his final disposition of his fortune[ ]. 'you, dear sir, have now a new station, and have therefore new cares, and new employments. life, as cowley seems to say, ought to resemble a well-ordered poem[ ]; of which one rule generally received is, that the exordium should be simple, and should promise little. begin your new course of life with the least show, and the least expence possible; you may at pleasure encrease both, but you cannot easily diminish them. do not think your estate your own, while any man can call upon you for money which you cannot pay; therefore, begin with timorous parsimony. let it be your first care not to be in any man's debt. 'when the thoughts are extended to a future state, the present life seems hardly worthy of all those principles of conduct, and maxims of prudence, which one generation of men has transmitted to another; but upon a closer view, when it is perceived how much evil is produced, and how much good is impeded by embarrassment and distress, and how little room the expedients of poverty leave for the exercise of virtue, it grows manifest that the boundless importance of the next life enforces some attention to the interests of this. 'be kind to the old servants, and secure the kindness of the agents and factors; do not disgust them by asperity, or unwelcome gaiety, or apparent suspicion. from them you must learn the real state of your affairs, the characters of your tenants, and the value of your lands[ ]. 'make my compliments to mrs. boswell; i think her expectations from air and exercise are the best that she can form. i hope she will live long and happily. 'i forget whether i told you that rasay[ ] has been here; we dined cheerfully together. i entertained lately a young gentleman from corrichatachin[ ]. 'i received your letters only this morning. i am, dear sir, 'yours &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, sept. , .' in answer to my next letter, i received one from him, dissuading me from hastening to him as i had proposed[ ]; what is proper for publication is the following paragraph, equally just and tender:-- 'one expence, however, i would not have you to spare: let nothing be omitted that can preserve mrs. boswell, though it should be necessary to transplant her for a time into a softer climate. she is the prop and stay of your life. how much must your children suffer by losing her.' my wife was now so much convinced of his sincere friendship for me, and regard for her, that, without any suggestion on my part, she wrote him a very polite and grateful letter:-- 'dr. johnson to mrs. boswell. 'dear lady, 'i have not often received so much pleasure as from your invitation to auchinleck. the journey thither and back is, indeed, too great for the latter part of the year; but if my health were fully recovered, i would suffer no little heat and cold, nor a wet or a rough road to keep me from you. i am, indeed, not without hope of seeing auchinleck again; but to make it a pleasant place i must see its lady well, and brisk, and airy. for my sake, therefore, among many greater reasons, take care, dear madam, of your health, spare no expence, and want no attendance that can procure ease, or preserve it. be very careful to keep your mind quiet; and do not think it too much to give an account of your recovery to, madam, 'yours, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, sept. , .' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'having passed almost this whole year in a succession of disorders, i went in october to brighthelmston, whither i came in a state of so much weakness, that i rested four times in walking between the inn and the lodging. by physick and abstinence i grew better, and am now reasonably easy, though at a great distance from health[ ]. i am afraid, however, that health begins, after seventy, and long before, to have a meaning different from that which it had at thirty. but it is culpable to murmur at the established order of the creation, as it is vain to oppose it. he that lives must grow old; and he that would rather grow old than die, has god to thank for the infirmities of old age[ ]. 'at your long silence i am rather angry. you do not, since now you are the head of your house, think it worth your while to try whether you or your friend can live longer without writing[ ], nor suspect that after so many years of friendship, that when i do not write to you, i forget you. put all such useless jealousies out of your head, and disdain to regulate your own practice by the practice of another, or by any other principle than the desire of doing right. 'your oeconomy, i suppose, begins now to be settled; your expences are adjusted to your revenue, and all your people in their proper places. resolve not to be poor: whatever you have, spend less. poverty is a great enemy to human happiness; it certainly destroys liberty, and it makes some virtues impracticable, and others extremely difficult. 'let me know the history of your life, since your accession to your estate. how many houses, how many cows, how much land in your own hand, and what bargains you make with your tenants. * * * * * 'of my _lives of the poets_, they have printed a new edition in octavo, i hear, of three thousand. did i give a set to lord hailes? if i did not, i will do it out of these. what did you make of all your copy[ ]? 'mrs. thrale and the three misses[ ] are now for the winter in argyll-street. sir joshua reynolds has been out of order, but is well again; and i am, dear sir, 'your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, dec. , .' 'to dr. samuel johnson. 'edinburgh, dec. , . 'dear sir, 'i was made happy by your kind letter, which gave us the agreeable hopes of seeing you in scotland again. 'i am much flattered by the concern you are pleased to take in my recovery. i am better, and hope to have it in my power to convince you by my attention of how much consequence i esteem your health to the world and to myself. i remain, sir, with grateful respect, 'your obliged and obedient servant, 'margaret boswell.' the death of mr. thrale had made a very material alteration with respect to johnson's reception in that family. the manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her vanity had been fully gratified, by having the colossus of literature attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to please him. whether her attachment to him was already divided by another object, i am unable to ascertain; but it is plain that johnson's penetration was alive to her neglect or forced attention; for on the eth of october this year, we find him making a 'parting use of the library[ ]' at streatham, and pronouncing a prayer, which he composed on leaving mr. thrale's family[ ]:-- 'almighty god, father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that i may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and conveniences which i have enjoyed at this place; and that i may resign them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou givest, and when thou takest away. have mercy upon me, lord, have mercy upon me. 'to thy fatherly protection, o lord, i commend this family. bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for jesus christ's sake. amen[ ].' one cannot read this prayer, without some emotions not very favourable to the lady whose conduct occasioned it[ ]. in one of his memorandum-books i find, 'sunday, went to church at streatham. _templo valedixi cum osculo_[ ].' he met mr. philip metcalfe[ ] often at sir joshua reynolds's, and other places, and was a good deal with him at brighthelmston[ ] this autumn, being pleased at once with his excellent table and animated conversation. mr. metcalfe shewed him great respect, and sent him a note that he might have the use of his carriage whenever he pleased. johnson ( d october, ) returned this polite answer:--'mr. johnson is very much obliged by the kind offer of the carriage, but he has no desire of using mr. metcalfe's carriage, except when he can have the pleasure of mr. metcalfe's company.' mr. metcalfe could not but be highly pleased that his company was thus valued by johnson, and he frequently attended him in airings. they also went together to chichester[ ], and they visited petworth, and cowdry, the venerable seat of the lords montacute. 'sir, (said johnson,) i should like to stay here four-and-twenty hours. we see here how our ancestors lived.' that his curiosity was still unabated, appears from two letters to mr. john nichols, of the th and th[ ] of october this year. in one he says, 'i have looked into your _anecdotes_, and you will hardly thank a lover of literary history for telling you, that he has been much informed and gratified. i wish you would add your own discoveries and intelligence to those of dr. rawlinson, and undertake the supplement to wood[ ]'. think of it.' in the other, 'i wish, sir, you could obtain some fuller information of jortin[ ], markland[ ], and thirlby[ ]. they were three contemporaries of great eminence.' 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'i heard yesterday of your late disorder[ ], and should think ill of myself if i had heard of it without alarm. i heard likewise of your recovery, which i sincerely wish to be complete and permanent. your country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and i of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends: but i hope you will still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more enjoyment of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still reserved for, dear sir, your most affectionate, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'brighthelmston, nov. , .' the reverend mr. wilson having dedicated to him his _archaeological dictionary_[ ], that mark of respect was thus acknowledged:-- 'to the reverend mr. wilson, clitheroe, lancashire. 'reverend sir, 'that i have long omitted to return you thanks for the honour conferred upon me by your dedication, i entreat you with great earnestness not to consider as more faulty than it is. a very importunate and oppressive disorder has for some time debarred me from the pleasures, and obstructed me in the duties of life. the esteem and kindness of wise and good men is one of the last pleasures which i can be content to lose; and gratitude to those from whom this pleasure is received, is a duty of which i hope never to be reproached with the final neglect. i therefore now return you thanks for the notice which i have received from you, and which i consider as giving to my name not only more bulk, but more weight; not only as extending its superficies, but as increasing its value. your book was evidently wanted, and will, i hope, find its way into the school, to which, however, i do not mean to confine it; for no man has so much skill in ancient rites and practices as not to want it. as i suppose myself to owe part of your kindness to my excellent friend, dr. patten, he has likewise a just claim to my acknowledgements, which i hope you, sir, will transmit. there will soon appear a new edition of my poetical biography; if you will accept of a copy to keep me in your mind, be pleased to let me know how it may be conveniently conveyed to you. the present is small, but it is given with good will by, reverend sir, 'your most, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'december , [ ].' : aetat. .--in , he was more severely afflicted than ever, as will appear in the course of his correspondence[ ]; but still the same ardour for literature, the same constant piety, the same kindness for his friends, and the same vivacity, both in conversation and writing, distinguished him. having given dr. johnson a full account of what i was doing at auchinleck, and particularly mentioned what i knew would please him,--my having brought an old man of eighty-eight from a lonely cottage to a comfortable habitation within my enclosures, where he had good neighbours near to him,--i received an answer in february, of which i extract what follows:-- 'i am delighted with your account of your activity at auchinleck, and wish the old gentleman, whom you have so kindly removed, may live long to promote your prosperity by his prayers. you have now a new character and new duties: think on them and practise them. 'make an impartial estimate of your revenue, and whatever it is, live upon less. resolve never to be poor. frugality is not only the basis of quiet, but of beneficence. no man can help others that wants help himself; we must have enough before we have to spare. 'i am glad to find that mrs. boswell grows well; and hope that to keep her well, no care nor caution will be omitted. may you long live happily together. 'when you come hither, pray bring with you baxter's _anacreon_[ ]. i cannot get that edition in london.' on friday, march , having arrived in london the night before, i was glad to find him at mrs. thrale's house, in argyll-street, appearances of friendship between them being still kept up. i was shewn into his room, and after the first salutation he said, 'i am glad you are come. i am very ill.' he looked pale, and was distressed with a difficulty of breathing; but after the common inquiries he assumed his usual strong animated style of conversation. seeing me now for the first time as a _laird_, or proprietor of land, he began thus: 'sir, the superiority of a country-gentleman over the people upon his estate is very agreeable; and he who says he does not feel it to be agreeable, lies; for it must be agreeable to have a casual superiority over those who are by nature equal with us[ ].' boswell. 'yet, sir, we see great proprietors of land who prefer living in london.' johnson. 'why, sir, the pleasure of living in london, the intellectual superiority that is enjoyed there, may counter-balance the other. besides, sir, a man may prefer the state of the country-gentleman upon the whole, and yet there may never be a moment when he is willing to make the change to quit london for it.' he said, 'it is better to have five _per cent_. out of land than out of money, because it is more secure; but the readiness of transfer, and promptness of interest, make many people rather choose the funds. nay, there is another disadvantage belonging to land, compared with money. a man is not so much afraid of being a hard creditor, as of being a hard landlord.' boswell. 'because there is a sort of kindly connection between a landlord and his tenants.' johnson. 'no, sir; many landlords with us never see their tenants. it is because if a landlord drives away his tenants, he may not get others; whereas the demand for money is so great, it may always be lent.' he talked with regret and indignation of the factious opposition to government at this time[ ], and imputed it in a great measure to the revolution. 'sir, (said he, in a low voice, having come nearer to me, while his old prejudices seemed to be fermenting in his mind,) this hanoverian family is _isolée_ here[ ]. they have no friends. now the stuarts had friends who stuck by them so late as . when the right of the king is not reverenced, there will not be reverence for those appointed by the king.' his observation that the present royal family has no friends, has been too much justified by the very ungrateful behaviour of many who were under great obligations to his majesty; at the same time there are honourable exceptions; and the very next year after this conversation, and ever since, the king has had as extensive and generous support as ever was given to any monarch, and has had the satisfaction of knowing that he was more and more endeared to his people[ ]. he repeated to me his verses on mr. levett, with an emotion which gave them full effect[ ]; and then he was pleased to say, 'you must be as much with me as you can. you have done me good. you cannot think how much better i am since you came in.' he sent a message to acquaint mrs. thrale that i was arrived. i had not seen her since her husband's death. she soon appeared, and favoured me with an invitation to stay to dinner, which i accepted. there was no other company but herself and three of her daughters, dr. johnson, and i. she too said, she was very glad i was come, for she was going to bath, and should have been sorry to leave dr. johnson before i came. this seemed to be attentive and kind; and i who had not been informed of any change, imagined all to be as well as formerly. he was little inclined to talk at dinner, and went to sleep after it; but when he joined us in the drawing-room, he seemed revived, and was again himself. talking of conversation, he said, 'there must, in the first place, be knowledge, there must be materials; in the second place, there must be a command of words; in the third place, there must be imagination, to place things in such views as they are not commonly seen in; and in the fourth place, there must be presence of mind, and a resolution that is not to be overcome by failures: this last is an essential requisite; for want of it many people do not excel in conversation. now _i_ want it: i throw up the game upon losing a trick.' i wondered to hear him talk thus of himself, and said, 'i don't know, sir, how this may be; but i am sure you beat other people's cards out of their hands.' i doubt whether he heard this remark. while he went on talking triumphantly, i was fixed in admiration, and said to mrs. thrale, 'o, for short-hand to take this down!' 'you'll carry it all in your head; (said she;) a long head is as good as short-hand.' it has been observed and wondered at, that mr. charles fox never talked with any freedom in the presence of dr. johnson[ ], though it is well known, and i myself can witness, that his conversation is various, fluent, and exceedingly agreeable. johnson's own experience, however, of that gentleman's reserve was a sufficient reason for his going on thus: 'fox never talks in private company; not from any determination not to talk, but because he has not the first motion[ ]. a man who is used to the applause of the house of commons, has no wish for that of a private company. a man accustomed to throw for a thousand pounds, if set down to throw for sixpence, would not be at the pains to count his dice. burke's talk is the ebullition of his mind; he does not talk from a desire of distinction, but because his mind is full[ ]. he thus curiously characterised one of our old acquaintance: '----[ ] is a good man, sir; but he is a vain man and a liar. he, however, only tells lies of vanity; of victories, for instance, in conversation, which never happened.' this alluded to a story which i had repeated from that gentleman, to entertain johnson with its wild bravado: 'this johnson, sir, (said he,) whom you are all afraid of will shrink, if you come close to him in argument and roar as loud as he. he once maintained the paradox, that there is no beauty but in utility[ ]. "sir, (said i,) what say you to the peacock's tail, which is one of the most beautiful objects in nature, but would have as much utility if its feathers were all of one colour." he _felt_ what i thus produced, and had recourse to his usual expedient, ridicule; exclaiming, "a peacock has a tail, and a fox has a tail;" and then he burst out into a laugh. "well, sir, (said i, with a strong voice, looking him full in the face,) you have unkennelled your fox; pursue him if you dare." he had not a word to say, sir.' johnson told me, that this was a fiction from beginning to end[ ]. after musing for some time, he said, 'i wonder how i should have any enemies; for i do harm to nobody[ ].' boswell. 'in the first place, sir, you will be pleased to recollect, that you set out with attacking the scotch; so you got a whole nation for your enemies.' johnson. 'why, i own, that by my definition of _oats_[ ] i meant to vex them.' boswell. 'pray, sir, can you trace the cause of your antipathy to the scotch.' johnson. 'i cannot, sir[ ].' boswell. 'old mr. sheridan says, it was because they sold charles the first.' johnson. 'then, sir, old mr. sheridan has found out a very good reason.' surely the most obstinate and sulky nationality, the most determined aversion to this great and good man, must be cured, when he is seen thus playing with one of his prejudices, of which he candidly admitted that he could not tell the reason. it was, however, probably owing to his having had in his view the worst part of the scottish nation, the needy adventurers, many of whom he thought were advanced above their merits by means which he did not approve. had he in his early life been in scotland, and seen the worthy, sensible, independent gentlemen, who live rationally and hospitably at home, he never could have entertained such unfavourable and unjust notions of his fellow-subjects. and accordingly we find, that when he did visit scotland, in the latter period of his life, he was fully sensible of all that it deserved, as i have already pointed out, when speaking of his _journey to the western islands_.[ ] next day, saturday, march , i found him still at mrs. thrale's, but he told me that he was to go to his own house in the afternoon[ ]. he was better, but i perceived he was but an unruly patient, for sir lucas pepys, who visited him, while i was with him said, 'if you were _tractable_, sir, i should prescribe for you.' i related to him a remark which a respectable friend had made to me, upon the then state of government, when those who had been long in opposition had attained to power, as it was supposed, against the inclination of the sovereign[ ]. 'you need not be uneasy (said this gentleman) about the king. he laughs at them all; he plays them one against another.' johnson. 'don't think so, sir. the king is as much oppressed as a man can be. if he plays them one against another, he _wins_ nothing.' i had paid a visit to general oglethorpe in the morning, and was told by him that dr. johnson saw company on saturday evenings, and he would meet me at johnson's that night. when i mentioned this to johnson, not doubting that it would please him, as he had a great value for oglethorpe, the fretfulness of his disease unexpectedly shewed itself; his anger suddenly kindled, and he said, with vehemence, 'did not you tell him not to come? am i to be _hunted_ in this manner?' i satisfied him that i could not divine that the visit would not be convenient, and that i certainly could not take it upon me of my own accord to forbid the general. i found dr. johnson in the evening in mrs. williams's room, at tea and coffee with her and mrs. desmoulins, who were also both ill; it was a sad scene, and he was not in very good humour. he said of a performance that had lately come out, 'sir, if you should search all the madhouses in england, you would not find ten men who would write so, and think it sense.' i was glad when general oglethorpe's arrival was announced, and we left the ladies. dr. johnson attended him in the parlour, and was as courteous as ever. the general said he was busy reading the writers of the middle age. johnson said they were very curious. oglethorpe. 'the house of commons has usurped the power of the nation's money, and used it tyrannically. government is now carried on by corrupt influence, instead of the inherent right in the king.' johnson. 'sir, the want of inherent right in the king occasions all this disturbance. what we did at the revolution was necessary: but it broke our constitution[ ].' oglethorpe. 'my father did not think it necessary.' on sunday, march , i breakfasted with dr. johnson, who seemed much relieved, having taken opium the night before. he however protested against it, as a remedy that should be given with the utmost reluctance, and only in extreme necessity. i mentioned how commonly it was used in turkey, and that therefore it could not be so pernicious as he apprehended. he grew warm and said, 'turks take opium, and christians take opium; but russel, in his _account of aleppo_[ ], tells us, that it is as disgraceful in turkey to take too much opium, as it is with us to get drunk. sir, it is amazing how things are exaggerated. a gentleman was lately telling in a company where i was present, that in france as soon as a man of fashion marries, he takes an opera girl into keeping; and this he mentioned as a general custom. 'pray, sir, (said i,) how many opera girls may there be?' he answered, 'about fourscore.' well then, sir, (said i,) you see there can be no more than fourscore men of fashion who can do this[ ].' mrs. desmoulins made tea; and she and i talked before him upon a topick which he had once borne patiently from me when we were by ourselves[ ],--his not complaining of the world, because he was not called to some great office, nor had attained to great wealth. he flew into a violent passion, i confess with some justice, and commanded us to have done. 'nobody, (said he) has a right to talk in this manner, to bring before a man his own character, and the events of his life, when he does not choose it should be done. i never have sought the world; the world was not to seek me. it is rather wonderful that so much has been done for me. all the complaints which are made of the world are unjust[ ]. i never knew a man of merit neglected[ ]: it was generally by his own fault that he failed of success. a man may hide his head in a hole: he may go into the country, and publish a book now and then, which nobody reads, and then complain he is neglected[ ]. there is no reason why any person should exert himself for a man who has written a good book: he has not written it for any individual. i may as well make a present to the postman who brings me a letter. when patronage was limited, an authour expected to find a maecenas, and complained if he did not find one. why should he complain? this maecenas has others as good as he, or others who have got the start of him.' boswell. 'but surely, sir, you will allow that there are men of merit at the bar, who never get practice.' johnson. 'sir, you are sure that practice is got from an opinion that the person employed deserves it best; so that if a man of merit at the bar does not get practice, it is from errour, not from injustice. he is not neglected. a horse that is brought to market may not be bought, though he is a very good horse: but that is from ignorance, not from intention[ ].' there was in this discourse much novelty, ingenuity, and discrimination, such as is seldom to be found. yet i cannot help thinking that men of merit, who have no success in life, may be forgiven for _lamenting_, if they are not allowed to _complain_. they may consider it as _hard_ that their merit should not have its suitable distinction. though there is no intentional injustice towards them on the part of the world, their merit not having been perceived, they may yet repine against _fortune_, or _fate_, or by whatever name they choose to call the supposed mythological power of _destiny_. it has, however, occurred to me, as a consolatory thought, that men of merit should consider thus:-how much harder would it be if the same persons had both all the merit and all the prosperity. would not this be a miserable distribution for the poor dunces? would men of merit exchange their intellectual superiority, and the enjoyments arising from it, for external distinction and the pleasures of wealth? if they would not, let them not envy others, who are poor where they are rich, a compensation which is made to them. let them look inwards and be satisfied; recollecting with conscious pride what virgil finely says of the _corycius senex_, and which i have, in another place[ ], with truth and sincerity applied to mr. burke:-- '_regum aequabat opes animis[ ].'_ on the subject of the right employment of wealth, johnson observed, 'a man cannot make a bad use of his money, so far as regards society, if he does not hoard it; for if he either spends it or lends it out, society has the benefit. it is in general better to spend money than to give it away; for industry is more promoted by spending money than by giving it away. a man who spends his money is sure he is doing good with it: he is not so sure when he gives it away. a man who spends ten thousand a year will do more good than a man who spends two thousand and gives away eight[ ].' in the evening i came to him again. he was somewhat fretful from his illness. a gentleman[ ] asked him, whether he had been abroad to-day. 'don't talk so childishly, (said he.) you may as well ask if i hanged myself to-day.' i mentioned politicks. johnson. 'sir, i'd as soon have a man to break my bones as talk to me of publick affairs, internal or external. i have lived to see things all as bad as they can be.' having mentioned his friend the second lord southwell, he said, 'lord southwell was the highest-bred man without insolence that i ever was in company with; the most _qualified_ i ever saw. lord orrery[ ] was not dignified: lord chesterfield was, but he was insolent[ ]. lord ----[ ] is a man of coarse manners, but a man of abilities and information. i don't say he is a man i would set at the head of a nation, though perhaps he may be as good as the next prime minister that comes; but he is a man to be at the head of a club; i don't say _our_ club; for there's no such club.' boswell. 'but, sir, was he not once a factious man?' johnson. 'o yes, sir; as factious a fellow as could be found: one who was for sinking us all into the mob[ ].' boswell. 'how then, sir, did he get into favour with the king?' johnson. 'because, sir, i suppose he promised the king to do whatever the king pleased.' he said, 'goldsmith's blundering speech to lord shelburne, which has been so often mentioned, and which he really did make to him, was only a blunder in emphasis: "i wonder they should call your lordship _malagrida_[ ], for malagrida was a very good man;" meant, i wonder they should use _malagrida_ as a term of reproach[ ].' soon after this time i had an opportunity of seeing, by means of one of his friends[ ], a proof that his talents, as well as his obliging service to authours, were ready as ever. he had revised _the village_, an admirable poem, by the reverend mr. crabbe. its sentiments as to the false notions of rustick happiness and rustick virtue were quite congenial with his own[ ]; and he had taken the trouble not only to suggest slight corrections and variations, but to furnish some lines, when he thought he could give the writer's meaning better than in the words of the manuscript[ ]. on sunday, march , i found him at home in the evening, and had the pleasure to meet with dr. brocklesby[ ], whose reading, and knowledge of life, and good spirits, supply him with a never-failing source of conversation. he mentioned a respectable gentleman, who became extremely penurious near the close of his life. johnson said there must have been a degree of madness about him. 'not at all, sir, (said dr. brocklesby,) his judgement was entire.' unluckily, however, he mentioned that although he had a fortune of twenty-seven thousand pounds, he denied himself many comforts, from an apprehension that he could not afford them. 'nay, sir, (cried johnson,) when the judgement is so disturbed that a man cannot count, that is pretty well.' i shall here insert a few of johnson's sayings, without the formality of dates, as they have no reference to any particular time or place. 'the more a man extends and varies his acquaintance the better.' this, however, was meant with a just restriction; for, he on another occasion said to me, 'sir, a man may be so much of every thing, that he is nothing of any thing.' 'raising the wages of day-labourers is wrong[ ]; for it does not make them live better, but only makes them idler, and idleness is a very bad thing for human nature.' 'it is a very good custom to keep a journal[ ] for a man's own use; he may write upon a card a day all that is necessary to be written, after he has had experience of life. at first there is a great deal to be written, because there is a great deal of novelty; but when once a man has settled his opinions, there is seldom much to be set down.' 'there is nothing wonderful in the journal which we see swift kept in london, for it contains slight topicks, and it might soon be written[ ].' i praised the accuracy of an account-book of a lady whom i mentioned. johnson. 'keeping accounts, sir, is of no use when a man is spending his own money, and has nobody to whom he is to account. you won't eat less beef to-day, because you have written down what it cost yesterday.' i mentioned another lady who thought as he did, so that her husband could not get her to keep an account of the expence of the family, as she thought it enough that she never exceeded the sum allowed her. johnson. 'sir, it is fit she should keep an account, because her husband wishes it; but i do not see its use[ ].' i maintained that keeping an account has this advantage, that it satisfies a man that his money has not been lost or stolen, which he might sometimes be apt to imagine, were there no written state of his expence; and beside, a calculation of oeconomy so as not to exceed one's income, cannot be made without a view of the different articles in figures, that one may see how to retrench in some particulars less necessary than others. this he did not attempt to answer. talking of an acquaintance of ours[ ], whose narratives, which abounded in curious and interesting topicks, were unhappily found to be very fabulous; i mentioned lord mansfield's having said to me, 'suppose we believe one _half_ of what he tells.' johnson. 'ay; but we don't know _which_ half to believe. by his lying we lose not only our reverence for him, but all comfort in his conversation.' boswell. 'may we not take it as amusing fiction?' johnson. 'sir, the misfortune is, that you will insensibly believe as much of it as you incline to believe.' it is remarkable, that notwithstanding their congeniality in politicks, he never was acquainted with a late eminent noble judge[ ], whom i have heard speak of him as a writer, with great respect[ ]. johnson, i know not upon what degree of investigation, entertained no exalted opinion of his lordship's intellectual character[ ]. talking of him to me one day, he said, 'it is wonderful, sir, with how little real superiority of mind men can make an eminent figure in publick life.' he expressed himself to the same purpose concerning another law-lord, who, it seems, once took a fancy to associate with the wits of london; but with so little success, that foote said, 'what can he mean by coming among us? he is not only dull himself, but the cause of dullness in others[ ].' trying him by the test of his colloquial powers, johnson had found him very defective. he once said to sir joshua reynolds, 'this man now has been ten years about town, and has made nothing of it;' meaning as a companion[ ]. he said to me, 'i never heard any thing from him in company that was at all striking; and depend upon it, sir, it is when you come close to a man in conversation, that you discover what his real abilities are; to make a speech in a publick assembly is a knack. now i honour thurlow, sir; thurlow is a fine fellow; he fairly puts his mind to yours[ ].' after repeating to him some of his pointed, lively sayings, i said, 'it is a pity, sir, you don't always remember your own good things, that you may have a laugh when you will.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is better that i forget them, that i may be reminded of them, and have a laugh on their being brought to my recollection.' when i recalled to him his having said as we sailed up loch-lomond[ ], 'that if he wore any thing fine, it should be _very_ fine;' i observed that all his thoughts were upon a great scale. johnson. 'depend upon it, sir, every man will have as fine a thing as he can get; as a large diamond for his ring.' boswell. 'pardon me, sir: a man of a narrow mind will not think of it, a slight trinket will satisfy him: "_nee sufferre queat majoris pondera gemmae_[ ]."' i told him i should send him some essays which i had written[ ], which i hoped he would be so good as to read, and pick out the good ones. johnson. 'nay, sir, send me only the good ones; don't make _me_ pick them.' i heard him once say, 'though the proverb _nullum numen abest, si sit prudentia[ ], does not always prove true, we may be certain of the converse of it, _nullum numen adest, si sit imprudentia_.' once, when mr. seward was going to bath, and asked his commands, he said, 'tell dr. harrington that i wish he would publish another volume of the _nugae antiquae_[ ]; it is a very pretty book[ ].' mr. seward seconded this wish, and recommended to dr. harrington to dedicate it to johnson, and take for his motto, what catullus says to cornelius nepos:-- '----_namque tu solebas, meas esse aliquid putare_ nugas[ ].' as a small proof of his kindliness and delicacy of feeling, the following circumstance may be mentioned: one evening when we were in the street together, and i told him i was going to sup at mr. beauclerk's, he said, 'i'll go with you.' after having walked part of the way, seeming to recollect something, he suddenly stopped and said, 'i cannot go,--but _i do not love beauclerk the less_.' on the frame of his portrait, mr. beauclerk had inscribed,-- '----_ingenium ingens inculto latet hoc sub corpore_[ ].' after mr. beauclerk's death, when it became mr. langton's property, he made the inscription be defaced. johnson said complacently, 'it was kind in you to take it off;' and then after a short pause, added, 'and not unkind in him to put it on.' he said, 'how few of his friends' houses would a man choose to be at when he is sick.' he mentioned one or two. i recollect only thrale's[ ]. he observed, 'there is a wicked inclination in most people to suppose an old man decayed in his intellects. if a young or middle-aged man, when leaving a company, does not recollect where he laid his hat, it is nothing; but if the same inattention is discovered in an old man, people will shrug up their shoulders, and say, 'his memory is going[ ].' when i once talked to him of some of the sayings which every body repeats, but nobody knows where to find, such as _quos deus vult perdere, prius dementat_[ ]; he told me that he was once offered ten guineas to point out from whence _semel insanivimus omnes_ was taken. he could not do it; but many years afterwards met with it by chance in _johannes baptista mantuanus_[ ]. i am very sorry that i did not take a note of an eloquent argument in which he maintained that the situation of prince of wales was the happiest of any person's in the kingdom, even beyond that of the sovereign. i recollect only--the enjoyment of hope[ ],--the high superiority of rank, without the anxious cares of government,--and a great degree of power, both from natural influence wisely used, and from the sanguine expectations of those who look forward to the chance of future favour. sir joshua reynolds communicated to me the following particulars:-- johnson thought the poems published as translations from ossian had so little merit, that he said, 'sir, a man might write such stuff for ever, if he would _abandon_ his mind to it[ ].' he said, 'a man should pass a part of his time with _the laughers_, by which means any thing ridiculous or particular about him might be presented to his view, and corrected.' i observed, he must have been a bold laugher who would have ventured to tell dr. johnson of any of his particularities[ ]. having observed the vain ostentatious importance of many people in quoting the authority of dukes and lords, as having been in their company, he said, he went to the other extreme, and did not mention his authority when he should have done it, had it not been that of a duke or a lord[ ]. dr. goldsmith said once to dr. johnson, that he wished for some additional members to the literary club, to give it an agreeable variety; for (said he,) there can now be nothing new among us: we have travelled over one another's minds. johnson seemed a little angry, and said, 'sir, you have not travelled over _my_ mind, i promise you.' sir joshua, however, thought goldsmith right; observing, that 'when people have lived a great deal together, they know what each of them will say on every subject. a new understanding, therefore, is desirable; because though it may only furnish the same sense upon a question which would have been furnished by those with whom we are accustomed to live, yet this sense will have a different colouring; and colouring is of much effect in every thing else as well as in painting.' johnson used to say that he made it a constant rule to talk as well as he could both as to sentiment and expression, by which means, what had been originally effort became familiar and easy[ ]. the consequence of this, sir joshua observed, was, that his common conversation in all companies was such as to secure him universal attention, as something above the usual colloquial style was expected[ ]. yet, though johnson had this habit in company, when another mode was necessary, in order to investigate truth, he could descend to a language intelligible to the meanest capacity. an instance of this was witnessed by sir joshua reynolds, when they were present at an examination of a little blackguard boy, by mr. saunders welch[ ], the late westminster justice. welch, who imagined that he was exalting himself in dr. johnson's eyes by using big words, spoke in a manner that was utterly unintelligible to the boy; dr. johnson perceiving it, addressed himself to the boy, and changed the pompous phraseology into colloquial language. sir joshua reynolds, who was much amused by this procedure, which seemed a kind of reversing of what might have been expected from the two men, took notice of it to dr. johnson, as they walked away by themselves. johnson said, that it was continually the case; and that he was always obliged to _translate_ the justice's swelling diction, (smiling,) so as that his meaning might be understood by the vulgar, from whom information was to be obtained[ ]. sir joshua once observed to him, that he had talked above the capacity of some people with whom they had been in company together. 'no matter, sir, (said johnson); they consider it as a compliment to be talked to, as if they were wiser than they are. so true is this, sir, that baxter made it a rule in every sermon that he preached, to say something that was above the capacity of his audience[ ].' johnson's dexterity in retort, when he seemed to be driven to an extremity by his adversary, was very remarkable. of his power in this respect, our common friend, mr. windham, of norfolk, has been pleased to furnish me with an eminent instance. however unfavourable to scotland, he uniformly gave liberal praise to george buchanan[ ], as a writer. in a conversation concerning the literary merits of the two countries, in which buchanan was introduced, a scotchman, imagining that on this ground he should have an undoubted triumph over him, exclaimed, 'ah, dr. johnson, what would you have said of buchanan, had he been an englishman?' 'why, sir, (said johnson, after a little pause,) i should _not_ have said of buchanan, had he been an _englishman_, what i will now say of him as a _scotchman_,--that he was the only man of genius his country ever produced.' and this brings to my recollection another instance of the same nature. i once reminded him that when dr. adam smith was expatiating on the beauty of glasgow, he had cut him short by saying, 'pray, sir, have you ever seen brentford?' and i took the liberty to add, 'my dear sir, surely that was _shocking_.' 'why, then, sir, (he replied,) you have never seen brentford.' though his usual phrase for conversation was _talk_[ ], yet he made a distinction; for when he once told me that he dined the day before at a friend's house, with 'a very pretty company;' and i asked him if there was good conversation, he answered, 'no, sir; we had _talk_ enough, but no _conversation_; there was nothing _discussed_.' talking of the success of the scotch in london, he imputed it in a considerable degree to their spirit of nationality. 'you know, sir, (said he,) that no scotchman publishes a book, or has a play brought upon the stage, but there are five hundred people ready to applaud him.[ ]' he gave much praise to his friend, dr. burney's elegant and entertaining travels[ ], and told mr. seward that he had them in his eye, when writing his _journey to the western islands of scotland_. such was his sensibility, and so much was he affected by pathetick poetry, that, when he was reading dr. beattie's _hermit_ in my presence, it brought tears into his eyes[ ]. he disapproved much of mingling real facts with fiction. on this account he censured a book entitled _love and madness_[ ]. mr. hoole told him, he was born in moorfields, and had received part of his early instruction in grub-street. 'sir, (said johnson, smiling) you have been _regularly_ educated.' having asked who was his instructor, and mr. hoole having answered, 'my uncle, sir, who was a taylor;' johnson, recollecting himself, said, 'sir, i knew him; we called him the _metaphysical taylor_. he was of a club in old-street, with me and george psalmanazar, and some others[ ]: but pray, sir, was he a good taylor?' mr. hoole having answered that he believed he was too mathematical, and used to draw squares and triangles on his shop-board, so that he did not excel in the cut of a coat;--'i am sorry for it (said johnson,) for i would have every man to be master of his own business.' in pleasant reference to himself and mr. hoole, as brother authours, he often said, 'let you and i, sir, go together, and eat a beef-steak in grub-street[ ].' sir william chambers, that great architect[ ], whose works shew a sublimity of genius, and who is esteemed by all who know him for his social, hospitable, and generous qualities, submitted the manuscript of his _chinese architecture_ to dr. johnson's perusal. johnson was much pleased with it, and said, 'it wants no addition nor correction, but a few lines of introduction;' which he furnished, and sir william adopted[ ]. he said to sir william scott, 'the age is running mad after innovation; all the business of the world is to be done in a new way; men are to be hanged in a new way; tyburn itself is not safe from the fury of innovation[ ].' it having been argued that this was an improvement,--'no, sir, (said he, eagerly,) it is _not_ an improvement: they object that the old method drew together a number of spectators. sir, executions are intended to draw spectators. if they do not draw spectators they don't answer their purpose. the old method was most satisfactory to all parties; the publick was gratified by a procession[ ]; the criminal was supported by it. why is all this to be swept away?' i perfectly agree with dr. johnson upon this head, and am persuaded that executions now, the solemn procession being discontinued, have not nearly the effect which they formerly had[ ]. magistrates both in london, and elsewhere, have, i am afraid, in this had too much regard to their own ease[ ]. of dr. hurd, bishop of worcester, johnson said to a friend, 'hurd, sir, is one of a set of men who account for every thing systematically; for instance, it has been a fashion to wear scarlet breeches; these men would tell you, that according to causes and effects, no other wear could at that time have been chosen.' he, however, said of him at another time to the same gentleman, 'hurd, sir, is a man whose acquaintance is a valuable acquisition.' that learned and ingenious prelate[ ] it is well known published at one period of his life _moral and political dialogues_, with a woefully whiggish cast. afterwards, his lordship having thought better, came to see his errour, and republished the work with a more constitutional spirit. johnson, however, was unwilling to allow him full credit for his political conversion. i remember when his lordship declined the honour of being archbishop of canterbury, johnson said, 'i am glad he did not go to lambeth; for, after all, i fear he is a whig in his heart.' johnson's attention to precision and clearness in expression was very remarkable. he disapproved of parentheses; and i believe in all his voluminous writings, not half a dozen of them will be found. he never used the phrases _the former_ and _the latter_, having observed, that they often occasioned obscurity; he therefore contrived to construct his sentences so as not to have occasion for them, and would even rather repeat the same words, in order to avoid them[ ]. nothing is more common than to mistake surnames when we hear them carelessly uttered for the first time. to prevent this, he used not only to pronounce them slowly and distinctly, but to take the trouble of spelling them; a practice which i have often followed; and which i wish were general. such was the heat and irritability of his blood, that not only did he pare his nails to the quick; but scraped the joints of his fingers with a pen-knife, till they seemed quite red and raw. the heterogeneous composition of human nature was remarkably exemplified in johnson. his liberality in giving his money to persons in distress was extraordinary. yet there lurked about him a propensity to paultry saving. one day i owned to him that 'i was occasionally troubled with a fit of _narrowness_.' 'why, sir, (said he,) so am i. _but i do not tell it_.' he has now and then borrowed a shilling of me; and when i asked for it again, seemed to be rather out of humour. a droll little circumstance once occurred: as if he meant to reprimand my minute exactness as a creditor, he thus addressed me;--'boswell, _lend_ me sixpence--_not to be repaid_[ ].' this great man's attention to small things was very remarkable. as an instance of it, he one day said to me, 'sir, when you get silver in change for a guinea, look carefully at it; you may find some curious piece of coin.' though a stern _true-born englishman_[ ], and fully prejudiced against all other nations, he had discernment enough to see, and candour enough to censure, the cold reserve too common among englishmen towards strangers: 'sir, (said he,) two men of any other nation who are shewn into a room together, at a house where they are both visitors, will immediately find some conversation. but two englishmen will probably go each to a different window, and remain in obstinate silence. sir, we as yet do not enough understand the common rights of humanity[ ].' johnson was at a certain period of his life a good deal with the earl of shelburne[ ], now marquis of lansdown, as he doubtless could not but have a due value for that nobleman's activity of mind, and uncommon acquisitions of important knowledge, however much he might disapprove of other parts of his lordship's character, which were widely different from his own. maurice morgann, esq., authour of the very ingenious _essay on the character of falstaff_[ ], being a particular friend of his lordship, had once an opportunity of entertaining johnson for a day or two at wickham, when its lord was absent, and by him i have been favoured with two anecdotes. one is not a little to the credit of johnson's candour. mr. morgann and he had a dispute pretty late at night, in which johnson would not give up, though he had the wrong side, and in short, both kept the field. next morning, when they met in the breakfasting-room, dr. johnson accosted mr. morgann thus:--'sir, i have been thinking on our dispute last night--_you were in the right_[ ].' the other was as follows:--johnson, for sport perhaps, or from the spirit of contradiction, eagerly maintained that derrick[ ] had merit as a writer. mr. morgann argued with him directly, in vain. at length he had recourse to this device. 'pray, sir, (said he,) whether do you reckon derrick or smart[ ] the best poet?' johnson at once felt himself roused; and answered, 'sir, there is no settling the point of precedency between a louse and a flea.' once, when checking my boasting too frequently of myself in company, he said to me, 'boswell, you often vaunt so much, as to provoke ridicule. you put me in mind of a man who was standing in the kitchen of an inn with his back to the fire, and thus accosted the person next him, "do you know, sir, who i am?" "no, sir, (said the other,) i have not that advantage." "sir, (said he,) i am the _great_ twalmley, who invented the new floodgate iron[ ]."' the bishop of killaloe, on my repeating the story to him, defended twalmley, by observing, that he was entitled to the epithet of _great_; for virgil in his groupe of worthies in the elysian fields-- _hic manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi_, &c. mentions _inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes_[ ]. he was pleased to say to me one morning when we were left alone in his study, 'boswell, i think i am easier with you than with almost any body.' he would not allow mr. david hume any credit for his political principles, though similar to his own; saying of him, 'sir, he was a tory by chance[ ].' his acute observation of human life made him remark, 'sir, there is nothing by which a man exasperates most people more, than by displaying a superiour ability or brilliancy in conversation. they seem pleased at the time; but their envy makes them curse him at their hearts[ ].' my readers will probably be surprised to hear that the great dr. johnson could amuse himself with so slight and playful a species of composition as a _charade_. i have recovered one which he made on dr. _barnard_, now lord bishop of killaloe; who has been pleased for many years to treat me with so much intimacy and social ease, that i may presume to call him not only my right reverend, but my very dear friend. i therefore with peculiar pleasure give to the world a just and elegant compliment thus paid to his lordship by johnson[ ]. charade. 'my _first_[ ] shuts out thieves from your house or your room, my _second_[ ] expresses a syrian perfume. my _whole_[ ] is a man in whose converse is shar'd, the strength of a bar and the sweetness of nard.' johnson asked richard owen cambridge, esq., if he had read the spanish translation of _sallust_, said to be written by a prince of spain[ ], with the assistance of his tutor, who is professedly the authour of a treatise annexed, on the phoenician language. mr. cambridge commended the work, particularly as he thought the translator understood his authour better than is commonly the case with translators: but said, he was disappointed in the purpose for which he borrowed the book; to see whether a spaniard could be better furnished with inscriptions from monuments, coins, or other antiquities which he might more probably find on a coast, so immediately opposite to carthage, than the antiquaries of any other countries. johnson. 'i am very sorry you was[ ] not gratified in your expectations.' cambridge. 'the language would have been of little use, as there is no history existing in that tongue to balance the partial accounts which the roman writers have left us.' johnson. 'no, sir. they have not been _partial_, they have told their own story, without shame or regard to equitable treatment of their injured enemy; they had no compunction, no feeling for a carthaginian. why, sir, they would never have borne virgil's description of aeneas's treatment of dido, if she had not been a carthaginian[ ].' i gratefully acknowledge this and other communications from mr. cambridge, whom, if a beautiful villa on the banks of the thames, a few miles distant from london, a numerous and excellent library, which he accurately knows and reads, a choice collection of pictures, which he understands and relishes, an easy fortune, an amiable family, an extensive circle of friends and acquaintance, distinguished by rank, fashion and genius, a literary fame, various, elegant and still increasing, colloquial talents rarely to be found[ ], and with all these means of happiness, enjoying, when well advanced in years, health and vigour of body, serenity and animation of mind, do not entitle to be addressed _fortunate senex!_[ ] i know not to whom, in any age, that expression could with propriety have been used. long may he live to hear and to feel it! johnson's love of little children, which he discovered upon all occasions, calling them 'pretty dears,' and giving them sweetmeats, was an undoubted proof of the real humanity and gentleness of his disposition[ ]. his uncommon kindness to his servants, and serious concern, not only for their comfort in this world, but their happiness in the next, was another unquestionable evidence of what all, who were intimately acquainted with him, knew to be true. nor would it be just, under this head, to omit the fondness which he shewed for animals which he had taken under his protection. i never shall forget the indulgence with which he treated hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. i am, unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that i am uneasy when in the room with one; and i own, i frequently suffered a good deal from the presence of this same hodge. i recollect him one day scrambling up dr. johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the tail; and when i observed he was a fine cat, saying, 'why yes, sir, but i have had cats whom i liked better than this;' and then as if perceiving hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.' this reminds me of the ludicrous account which he gave mr. langton, of the despicable state of a young gentleman of good family. 'sir, when i heard of him last, he was running about town shooting cats.' and then in a sort of kindly reverie, he bethought himself of his own favourite cat, and said, 'but hodge shan't be shot; no, no, hodge shall not be shot.' he thought mr. beauclerk made a shrewd and judicious' remark to mr. langton, who, after having been for the first time in company with a well-known wit about town, was warmly admiring and praising him, 'see him again,' said beauclerk. his respect for the hierarchy, and particularly the dignitaries of the church, has been more than once exhibited in the course of this work[ ]. mr. seward saw him presented to the archbishop of york[ ], and described his _bow to an arch-bishop_, as such a studied elaboration of homage, such an extension of limb, such a flexion of body, as have seldom or ever been equalled. i cannot help mentioning with much regret, that by my own negligence i lost an opportunity of having the history of my family from its founder thomas boswell, in , recorded and illustrated by johnson's pen. such was his goodness to me, that when i presumed to solicit him for so great a favour, he was pleased to say, 'let me have all the materials you can collect, and i will do it both in latin and english; then let it be printed and copies of it be deposited in various places for security and preservation.' i can now only do the best i can to make up for this loss, keeping my great master steadily in view. family histories, like the _imagines majorum_ of the ancients, excite to virtue; and i wish that they who really have blood, would be more careful to trace and ascertain its course. some have affected to laugh at the history of the house of yvery[ ]: it would be well if many others would transmit their pedigrees to posterity, with the same accuracy and generous zeal with which the noble lord who compiled that work has honoured and perpetuated his ancestry. on thursday, april [ ], i introduced to him, at his house in bolt-court, the honourable and reverend william stuart, son of the earl of bute; a gentleman truly worthy of being known to johnson; being, with all the advantages of high birth, learning, travel, and elegant manners, an exemplary parish priest in every respect. after some compliments on both sides, the tour which johnson and i had made to the hebrides was mentioned. johnson. 'i got an acquisition of more ideas by it than by any thing that i remember. i saw quite a different system of life[ ].' boswell. 'you would not like to make the same journey again?' johnson. 'why no, sir; not the same: it is a tale told. gravina, an italian critick, observes, that every man desires to see that of which he has read; but no man desires to read an account of what he has seen: so much does description fall short of reality. description only excites curiosity: seeing satisfies it. other people may go and see the hebrides.' boswell. 'i should wish to go and see some country totally different from what i have been used to; such as turkey, where religion and every thing else are different.' johnson. 'yes, sir; there are two objects of curiosity,--the christian world, and the mahometan world. all the rest may be considered as barbarous.' boswell. 'pray, sir, is the _turkish spy_[ ] a genuine book?' johnson. 'no, sir. mrs. manley, in her _life_, says that her father wrote the first two volumes[ ]: and in another book, _dunton's life and errours_, we find that the rest was written by one _sault_, at two guineas a sheet, under the direction of dr. midgeley[ ]. boswell. 'this has been a very factious reign, owing to the too great indulgence of government.' johnson. 'i think so, sir. what at first was lenity, grew timidity[ ]. yet this is reasoning _à posteriori_, and may not be just. supposing a few had at first been punished, i believe faction would have been crushed; but it might have been said, that it was a sanguinary reign. a man cannot tell _à priori_ what will be best for government to do. this reign has been very unfortunate. we have had an unsuccessful war; but that does not prove that we have been ill governed. one side or other must prevail in war, as one or other must win at play. when we beat louis we were not better governed; nor were the french better governed when louis beat us.' on saturday, april , i visited him, in company with mr. windham, of norfolk, whom, though a whig, he highly valued. one of the best things he ever said was to this gentleman; who, before he set out for ireland as secretary to lord northington, when lord lieutenant, expressed to the sage some modest and virtuous doubts, whether he could bring himself to practise those arts which it is supposed a person in that situation has occasion to employ. 'don't be afraid, sir, (said johnson, with a pleasant smile,) you will soon make a very pretty rascal[ ]. he talked to-day a good deal of the wonderful extent and variety of london, and observed, that men of curious enquiry might see in it such modes of life as very few could even imagine. he in particular recommended to us to _explore wapping_, which we resolved to do[ ]. mr. lowe, the painter, who was with him, was very much distressed that a large picture which he had painted was refused to be received into the exhibition of the royal academy. mrs. thrale knew johnson's character so superficially, as to represent him as unwilling to do small acts of benevolence; and mentions in particular, that he would hardly take the trouble to write a letter in favour of his friends[ ]. the truth, however, is, that he was remarkable, in an extraordinary degree, for what she denies to him; and, above all, for this very sort of kindness, writing letters for those to whom his solicitations might be of service. he now gave mr. lowe the following, of which i was diligent enough, with his permission, to take copies at the next coffee-house, while mr. windham was so good as to stay by me. to sir joshua reynolds. 'sir, 'mr. lowe considers himself as cut off from all credit and all hope, by the rejection of his picture from the exhibition. upon this work he has exhausted all his powers, and suspended all his expectations: and, certainly, to be refused an opportunity of taking the opinion of the publick, is in itself a very great hardship. it is to be condemned without a trial. if you could procure the revocation of this incapacitating edict, you would deliver an unhappy man from great affliction. the council has sometimes reversed its own determination; and i hope, that by your interposition this luckless picture may be got admitted. i am, &c. sam. johnson. april , . to mr. barry. sir, mr. lowe's exclusion from the exhibition gives him more trouble than you and the other gentlemen of the council could imagine or intend. he considers disgrace and ruin as the inevitable consequence of your determination. he says, that some pictures have been received after rejection; and if there be any such precedent, i earnestly entreat that you will use your interest in his favour. of his work i can say nothing; i pretend not to judge of painting; and this picture i never saw: but i conceive it extremely hard to shut out any man from the possibility of success; and therefore i repeat my request that you will propose the re-consideration of mr. lowe's case; and if there be any among the council with whom my name can have any weight, be pleased to communicate to them the desire of, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. april , . such intercession was too powerful to be resisted; and mr. lowe's performance was admitted at somerset place[ ]. the subject, as i recollect, was the deluge, at that point of time when the water was verging to the top of the last uncovered mountain. near to the spot was seen the last of the antediluvian race, exclusive of those who were saved in the ark of noah. this was one of those giants, then the inhabitants of the earth, who had still strength to swim, and with one of his hands held aloft his infant child. upon the small remaining dry spot appeared a famished lion, ready to spring at the child and devour it. mr. lowe told me that johnson said to him, 'sir, your picture is noble and probable.' 'a compliment, indeed, (said mr. lowe,) from a man who cannot lie, and cannot be mistaken.' about this time he wrote to mrs. lucy porter, mentioning his bad health, and that he intended a visit to lichfield. 'it is, (says he,) with no great expectation of amendment that i make every year a journey into the country; but it is pleasant to visit those whose kindness has been often experienced.' on april , (being good-friday,) i found him at breakfast, in his usual manner upon that day, drinking tea without milk, and eating a cross-bun to prevent faintness; we went to st. clement's church, as formerly. when we came home from church, he placed himself on one of the stone-seats at his garden-door, and i took the other, and thus in the open air and in a placid frame of mind, he talked away very easily. johnson. 'were i a country gentleman, i should not be very hospitable, i should not have crowds in my house[ ].' boswell. 'sir alexander dick[ ] tells me, that he remembers having a thousand people in a year to dine at his house: that is, reckoning each person as one, each time that he dined there.' johnson. 'that, sir, is about three a day.' boswell. 'how your statement lessens the idea.' johnson. 'that, sir, is the good of counting[ ]. it brings every thing to a certainty, which before floated in the mind indefinitely.' boswell. 'but _omne ignotum pro magnifico est[ ]: one is sorry to have this diminished.' johnson. 'sir, you should not allow yourself to be delighted with errour.' boswell. 'three a day seem but few.' johnson. 'nay, sir, he who entertains three a day, does very liberally. and if there is a large family, the poor entertain those three, for they eat what the poor would get: there must be superfluous meat; it must be given to the poor, or thrown out.' boswell. 'i observe in london, that the poor go about and gather bones, which i understand are manufactured.' johnson. 'yes, sir; they boil them, and extract a grease from them for greasing wheels and other purposes. of the best pieces they make a mock ivory, which is used for hafts to knives, and various other things; the coarser pieces they burn and pound, and sell the ashes.' boswell. 'for what purpose, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, for making a furnace for the chymists for melting iron. a paste made of burnt bones will stand a stronger heat than any thing else. consider, sir; if you are to melt iron, you cannot line your pot with brass, because it is softer than iron, and would melt sooner; nor with iron, for though malleable iron is harder than cast iron, yet it would not do; but a paste of burnt-bones will not melt.' boswell. 'do you know, sir, i have discovered a manufacture to a great extent, of what you only piddle at,--scraping and drying the peel of oranges[ ]. at a place in newgate-street, there is a prodigious quantity prepared, which they sell to the distillers.' johnson. 'sir, i believe they make a higher thing out of them than a spirit; they make what is called orange-butter, the oil of the orange inspissated, which they mix perhaps with common pomatum, and make it fragrant. the oil does not fly off in the drying.' boswell. 'i wish to have a good walled garden.' johnson. 'i don't think it would be worth the expence to you. we compute in england, a park wall at a thousand pounds a mile; now a garden-wall must cost at least as much. you intend your trees should grow higher than a deer will leap. now let us see; for a hundred pounds you could only have forty-four square yards, which is very little; for two hundred pounds, you may have eighty-four square yards[ ], which is very well. but when will you get the value of two hundred pounds of walls, in fruit, in your climate? no, sir, such contention with nature is not worth while. i would plant an orchard, and have plenty of such fruit as ripen well in your country. my friend, dr. madden[ ], of ireland, said, that "in an orchard there should be enough to eat, enough to lay up, enough to be stolen, and enough to rot upon the ground." cherries are an early fruit, you may have them; and you may have the early apples and pears.' boswell. 'we cannot have nonpareils.' johnson. 'sir, you can no more have nonpareils than you can have grapes.' boswell. 'we have them, sir; but they are very bad.' johnson. 'nay, sir, never try to have a thing merely to shew that you _cannot_ have it. from ground that would let for forty shillings you may have a large orchard; and you see it costs you only forty shillings. nay, you may graze the ground when the trees are grown up; you cannot while they are young.' boswell. 'is not a good garden a very common thing in england, sir?' johnson. 'not so common, sir, as you imagine[ ]. in lincolnshire there is hardly an orchard; in staffordshire very little fruit.' boswell. 'has langton no orchard?' johnson. 'no, sir.' boswell. 'how so, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, from the general negligence of the county. he has it not, because nobody else has it.' boswell. 'a hot-house is a certain thing; i may have that.' johnson. 'a hot-house is pretty certain; but you must first build it, then you must keep fires in it, and you must have a gardener to take care of it.' boswell. 'but if i have a gardener at any rate?--' johnson. 'why, yes.' boswell.' i'd have it near my house; there is no need to have it in the orchard.' johnson. 'yes, i'd have it near my house. i would plant a great many currants; the fruit is good, and they make a pretty sweetmeat.' i record this minute detail, which some may think trifling, in order to shew clearly how this great man, whose mind could grasp such large and extensive subjects, as he has shewn in his literary labours, was yet well-informed in the common affairs of life, and loved to illustrate them. mr. walker, the celebrated master of elocution[ ], came in, and then we went up stairs into the study. i asked him if he had taught many clergymen. johnson. 'i hope not.' walker. 'i have taught only one, and he is the best reader i ever heard, not by my teaching, but by his own natural talents.' johnson. 'were he the best reader in the world, i would not have it told that he was taught.' here was one of his peculiar prejudices. could it be any disadvantage to the clergyman to have it known that he was taught an easy and graceful delivery? boswell. 'will you not allow, sir, that a man may be taught to read well?' johnson. 'why, sir, so far as to read better than he might do without being taught, yes. formerly it was supposed that there was no difference in reading, but that one read as well as another.' boswell. 'it is wonderful to see old sheridan as enthusiastick about oratory as ever[ ],' walker. 'his enthusiasm as to what oratory will do, may be too great: but he reads well.' johnson. 'he reads well, but he reads low[ ]; and you know it is much easier to read low than to read high; for when you read high, you are much more limited, your loudest note can be but one, and so the variety is less in proportion to the loudness. now some people have occasion to speak to an extensive audience, and must speak loud to be heard.' walker. 'the art is to read strong, though low.' talking of the origin of language; johnson. 'it must have come by inspiration. a thousand, nay, a million of children could not invent a language. while the organs are pliable, there is not understanding enough to form a language; by the time that there is understanding enough, the organs are become stiff. we know that after a certain age we cannot learn to pronounce a new language. no foreigner, who comes to england when advanced in life, ever pronounces english tolerably well; at least such instances are very rare. when i maintain that language must have come by inspiration, i do not mean that inspiration is required for rhetorick, and all the beauties of language; for when once man has language, we can conceive that he may gradually form modifications of it. i mean only that inspiration seems to me to be necessary to give man the faculty of speech; to inform him that he may have speech; which i think he could no more find out without inspiration, than cows or hogs would think of such a faculty.' walker. 'do you think, sir, that there are any perfect synonimes in any language?' johnson. 'originally there were not; but by using words negligently, or in poetry, one word comes to be confounded with another.' he talked of dr. dodd[ ]. 'a friend of mine, (said he,) came to me and told me, that a lady wished to have dr. dodd's picture in a bracelet, and asked me for a motto. i said, i could think of no better than _currat lex_. i was very willing to have him pardoned, that is, to have the sentence changed to transportation: but, when he was once hanged, i did not wish he should be made a saint.' mrs. burney, wife of his friend dr. burney, came in, and he seemed to be entertained with her conversation. garrick's funeral was talked of as extravagantly expensive. johnson, from his dislike to exaggeration, would not allow that it was distinguished by any extraordinary pomp. 'were there not six horses to each coach?' said mrs. burney. johnson. 'madam, there were no more six horses than six phoenixes[ ].' mrs. burney wondered that some very beautiful new buildings should be erected in moorfields, in so shocking a situation as between bedlam and st. luke's hospital; and said she could not live there. johnson. 'nay, madam, you see nothing there to hurt you. you no more think of madness by having windows that look to bedlam, than you think of death by having windows that look to a church-yard.' mrs. burney. 'we may look to a church-yard, sir; for it is right that we should be kept in mind of death.' johnson. 'nay, madam, if you go to that, it is right that we should be kept in mind of madness, which is occasioned by too much indulgence of imagination. i think a very moral use may be made of these new buildings: i would have those who have heated imaginations live there, and take warning.' mrs. burney. 'but, sir, many of the poor people that are mad, have become so from disease, or from distressing events. it is, therefore, not their fault, but their misfortune; and, therefore, to think of them is a melancholy consideration.' time passed on in conversation till it was too late for the service of the church at three o'clock. i took a walk, and left him alone for some time; then returned, and we had coffee and conversation again by ourselves. i stated the character of a noble friend of mine, as a curious case for his opinion:--'he is the most inexplicable man to me that i ever knew. can you explain him, sir? he is, i really believe, noble-minded, generous, and princely. but his most intimate friends may be separated from him for years, without his ever asking a question concerning them. he will meet them with a formality, a coldness, a stately indifference; but when they come close to him, and fairly engage him in conversation, they find him as easy, pleasant, and kind, as they could wish. one then supposes that what is so agreeable will soon be renewed; but stay away from him for half a year, and he will neither call on you, nor send to inquire about you.' johnson. 'why, sir, i cannot ascertain his character exactly, as i do not know him; but i should not like to have such a man for my friend. he may love study, and wish not to be interrupted by his friends; _amici fures temporis_. he may be a frivolous man, and be so much occupied with petty pursuits, that he may not want friends. or he may have a notion that there is a dignity in appearing indifferent, while he in fact may not be more indifferent at his heart than another.' we went to evening prayers at st. clement's, at seven, and then parted. on sunday, april , being easter-day, after attending solemn service at st. paul's, i came to dr. johnson, and found mr. lowe, the painter, sitting with him. mr. lowe mentioned the great number of new buildings of late in london, yet that dr. johnson had observed, that the number of inhabitants was not increased. johnson. 'why, sir, the bills of mortality prove that no more people die now than formerly; so it is plain no more live. the register of births proves nothing, for not one tenth of the people of london are born there.' boswell. 'i believe, sir, a great many of the children born in london die early.' johnson. 'why, yes, sir.' boswell. 'but those who do live, are as stout and strong people as any[ ]: dr. price[ ] says, they must be naturally stronger to get through.' johnson. 'that is system, sir. a great traveller observes, that it is said there are no weak or deformed people among the indians; but he with much sagacity assigns the reason of this, which is, that the hardship of their life as hunters and fishers does not allow weak or diseased children to grow up. now had i been an indian, i must have died early; my eyes would not have served me to get food. i indeed now could fish, give me english tackle; but had i been an indian i must have starved, or they would have knocked me on the head, when they saw i could do nothing.' boswell. 'perhaps they would have taken care of you: we are told they are fond of oratory, you would have talked to them.' johnson. 'nay, sir, i should not have lived long enough to be fit to talk; i should have been dead before i was ten years old. depend upon it, sir, a savage, when he is hungry, will not carry about with him a looby of nine years old, who cannot help himself. they have no affection, sir.' boswell. 'i believe natural affection, of which we hear so much, is very small.' johnson. 'sir, natural affection is nothing: but affection from principle and established duty is sometimes wonderfully strong.' lowe. 'a hen, sir, will feed her chickens in preference to herself.' johnson. 'but we don't know that the hen is hungry; let the hen be fairly hungry, and i'll warrant she'll peck the corn herself. a cock, i believe, will feed hens instead of himself; but we don't know that the cock is hungry.' boswell. 'and that, sir, is not from affection but gallantry. but some of the indians have affection.' johnson. 'sir, that they help some of their children is plain; for some of them live, which they could not do without being helped.' i dined with him; the company were, mrs. williams, mrs. desmoulins, and mr. lowe. he seemed not to be well, talked little, grew drowsy soon after dinner, and retired, upon which i went away. having next day gone to mr. burke's seat in the country, from whence i was recalled by an express, that a near relation of mine had killed his antagonist in a duel, and was himself dangerously wounded[ ], i saw little of dr. johnson till monday, april , when i spent a considerable part of the day with him, and introduced the subject, which then chiefly occupied my mind. johnson. 'i do not see, sir, that fighting is absolutely forbidden in scripture; i see revenge forbidden, but not self-defence.' boswell. 'the quakers say it is; "unto him that smiteth thee on one cheek, offer him also the other[ ]."' johnson. 'but stay, sir; the text is meant only to have the effect of moderating passion; it is plain that we are not to take it in a literal sense. we see this from the context, where there are other recommendations, which i warrant you the quaker will not take literally; as, for instance, "from him that would borrow of thee, turn thou not away[ ]." let a man whose credit is bad, come to a quaker, and say, "well, sir, lend me a hundred pounds;" he'll find him as unwilling as any other man. no, sir, a man may shoot the man who invades his character, as he may shoot him who attempts to break into his house[ ]. so in , my friend, tom cumming the quaker[ ], said, he would not fight, but he would drive an ammunition cart; and we know that the quakers have sent flannel waistcoats to our soldiers, to enable them to fight better.' boswell. 'when a man is the aggressor, and by ill-usage forces on a duel in which he is killed, have we not little ground to hope that he is gone into a state of happiness?' johnson. 'sir, we are not to judge determinately of the state in which a man leaves this life. he may in a moment have repented effectually, and it is possible may have been accepted by god. there is in _camden's remains_, an epitaph upon a very wicked man, who was killed by a fall from his horse, in which he is supposed to say, '"between the stirrup and the ground, i mercy ask'd, i mercy found[ ]."' boswell. 'is not the expression in the burial-service, "in the _sure_ and _certain_ hope of a blessed resurrection[ ]," too strong to be used indiscriminately, and, indeed, sometimes when those over whose bodies it is said, have been notoriously profane?' johnson. 'it is sure and certain _hope_, sir; not _belief_.' i did not insist further; but cannot help thinking that less positive words would be more proper[ ]. talking of a man who was grown very fat, so as to be incommoded with corpulency; he said, 'he eats too much, sir.' boswell. 'i don't know, sir; you will see one man fat who eats moderately, and another lean who eats a great deal.' johnson. 'nay, sir, whatever may be the quantity that a man eats, it is plain that if he is too fat, he has eaten more than he should have done. one man may have a digestion that consumes food better than common; but it is certain that solidity is encreased by putting something to it.' boswell. 'but may not solids swell and be distended?' johnson. 'yes, sir, they may swell and be distended; but that is not fat.' we talked of the accusation against a gentleman for supposed delinquencies in india[ ]. johnson. 'what foundation there is for accusation i know not, but they will not get at him. where bad actions are committed at so great a distance, a delinquent can obscure the evidence till the scent becomes cold; there is a cloud between, which cannot be penetrated: therefore all distant power is bad. i am clear that the best plan for the government of india is a despotick governour; for if he be a good man, it is evidently the best government; and supposing him to be a bad man, it is better to have one plunderer than many. a governour whose power is checked, lets others plunder, that he himself may be allowed to plunder; but if despotick, he sees that the more he lets others plunder, the less there will be for himself, so he restrains them; and though he himself plunders, the country is a gainer, compared with being plundered by numbers.' i mentioned the very liberal payment which had been received for reviewing; and, as evidence of this, that it had been proved in a trial, that dr. shebbeare[ ] had received six guineas a sheet for that kind of literary labour. johnson, 'sir, he might get six guineas for a particular sheet, but not _communibus sheetibus_[ ].' boswell. 'pray, sir, by a sheet of review is it meant that it shall be all of the writer's own composition? or are extracts, made from the book reviewed, deducted.' johnson. 'no, sir: it is a sheet, no matter of what.' boswell. 'i think that it is not reasonable.' johnson. 'yes, sir, it is. a man will more easily write a sheet all his own, than read an octavo volume to get extracts[ ].' to one of johnson's wonderful fertility of mind i believe writing was really easier than reading and extracting; but with ordinary men the case is very different. a great deal, indeed, will depend upon the care and judgement with which the extracts are made. i can suppose the operation to be tedious and difficult: but in many instances we must observe crude morsels cut out of books as if at random; and when a large extract is made from one place, it surely may be done with very little trouble. one however, i must acknowledge, might be led, from the practice of reviewers, to suppose that they take a pleasure in original writing; for we often find, that instead of giving an accurate account of what has been done by the authour whose work they are reviewing, which is surely the proper business of a literary journal, they produce some plausible and ingenious conceits of their own, upon the topicks which have been discussed[ ]. upon being told that old mr. sheridan, indignant at the neglect of his oratorical plans, had threatened to go to america; johnson. 'i hope he will go to america.' boswell. 'the americans don't want oratory.' johnson. 'but we can want sheridan[ ].' on monday[ ], april , i found him at home in the forenoon, and mr. seward with him. horace having been mentioned; boswell. 'there is a great deal of thinking in his works. one finds there almost every thing but religion.' seward. 'he speaks of his returning to it, in his ode _parcus deorum cultor et infrequens_[ ] johnson. 'sir, he was not in earnest: this was merely poetical.' boswell. 'there are, i am afraid, many people who have no religion at all.' seward. 'and sensible people too.' johnson. 'why, sir, not sensible in that respect. there must be either a natural or a moral stupidity, if one lives in a total neglect of so very important a concern.' seward. 'i wonder that there should be people without religion.' johnson. 'sir, you need not wonder at this, when you consider how large a proportion of almost every man's life is passed without thinking of it. i myself was for some years totally regardless of religion. it had dropped out of my mind. it was at an early part of my life. sickness brought it back, and i hope i have never lost it since[ ].' boswell. 'my dear sir, what a man must you have been without religion! why you must have gone on drinking, and swearing, and--[ ]' johnson. (with a smile) 'i drank enough and swore enough, to be sure.' seward. 'one should think that sickness and the view of death would make more men religious.' johnson. 'sir, they do not know how to go about it: they have not the first notion. a man who has never had religion before, no more grows religious when he is sick, than a man who has never learnt figures can count when he has need of calculation.' i mentioned a worthy friend of ours[ ] whom we valued much, but observed that he was too ready to introduce religious discourse upon all occasions. johnson. 'why, yes, sir, he will introduce religious discourse without seeing whether it will end in instruction and improvement, or produce some profane jest. he would introduce it in the company of wilkes, and twenty more such.' i mentioned dr. johnson's excellent distinction between liberty of conscience and liberty of teaching[ ]. johnson. 'consider, sir; if you have children whom you wish to educate in the principles of the church of england, and there comes a quaker who tries to pervert them to his principles, you would drive away the quaker. you would not trust to the predomination of right, which you believe is in your opinions; you would keep wrong out of their heads. now the vulgar are the children of the state. if any one attempts to teach them doctrines contrary to what the state approves, the magistrate may and ought to restrain him.' seward. 'would you restrain private conversation, sir?' johnson. 'why, sir, it is difficult to say where private conversation begins, and where it ends. if we three should discuss even the great question concerning the existence of a supreme being by ourselves, we should not be restrained; for that would be to put an end to all improvement. but if we should discuss it in the presence of ten boarding-school girls, and as many boys, i think the magistrate would do well to put us in the stocks, to finish the debate there.' lord hailes had sent him a present of a curious little printed poem, on repairing the university of aberdeen, by david malloch, which he thought would please johnson, as affording clear evidence that mallet had appeared even as a literary character by the name of _malloch_; his changing which to one of softer sound, had given johnson occasion to introduce him into his _dictionary_, under the article _alias_[ ]. this piece was, i suppose, one of mallet's first essays. it is preserved in his works, with several variations. johnson having read aloud, from the beginning of it, where there were some common-place assertions as to the superiority of ancient times;--'how false (said he) is all this, to say that in ancient times learning was not a disgrace to a peer as it is now. in ancient times a peer was as ignorant as any one else. he would have been angry to have it thought he could write his name[ ]. men in ancient times dared to stand forth with a degree of ignorance with which nobody would dare now to stand forth. i am always angry when i hear ancient times praised at the expence of modern times. there is now a great deal more learning in the world than there was formerly; for it is universally diffused. you have, perhaps, no man who knows as much greek and latin as bentley[ ]; no man who knows as much mathematicks as newton: but you have many more men who know greek and latin, and who know mathematicks[ ].' on thursday, may , i visited him in the evening along with young mr. burke. he said, 'it is strange that there should be so little reading in the world, and so much writing. people in general do not willingly read, if they can have any thing else to amuse them[ ]. there must be an external impulse; emulation, or vanity, or avarice. the progress which the understanding makes through a book, has more pain than pleasure in it. language is scanty, and inadequate to express the nice gradations and mixtures of our feelings. no man reads a book of science from pure inclination. the books that we do read with pleasure are light compositions, which contain a quick succession of events. however, i have this year read all virgil through[ ]. i read a book of the _aeneid_ every night, so it was done in twelve nights, and i had great delight in it. the _georgicks_ did not give me so much pleasure, except the fourth book. the _eclogues_ i have almost all by heart. i do not think the story of the _aeneid_ interesting. i like the story of the _odyssey_ much better[ ]; and this not on account of the wonderful things which it contains; for there are wonderful things enough in the _aeneid_;--the ships of the trojans turned to sea-nymphs,--the tree at polydorus's tomb dropping blood. the story of the _odyssey_ is interesting, as a great part of it is domestick. it has been said, there is pleasure in writing, particularly in writing verses. i allow you may have pleasure from writing, after it is over, if you have written well; but you don't go willingly to it again[ ]. i know when i have been writing verses, i have run my finger down the margin, to see how many i had made, and how few i had to make[ ].' he seemed to be in a very placid humour, and although i have no note of the particulars of young mr. burke's conversation, it is but justice to mention in general, that it was such that dr. johnson said to me afterwards, 'he did very well indeed; i have a mind to tell his father[ ].' 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'the gentleman who waits on you with this, is mr. cruikshanks[ ], who wishes to succeed his friend dr. hunter[ ] as professor of anatomy in the royal academy. his qualifications are very generally known, and it adds dignity to the institution that such men[ ] are candidates. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may [ ], .' i have no minute of any interview with johnson till thursday, may , when i find what follows:--boswell. 'i wish much to be in parliament, sir[ ].' johnson. 'why, sir, unless you come resolved to support any administration, you would be the worse for being in parliament, because you would be obliged to live more expensively.' boswell. 'perhaps, sir, i should be the less happy for being in parliament. i never would sell my vote, and i should be vexed if things went wrong.' johnson. 'that's cant, sir. it would not vex you more in the house, than in the gallery: publick affairs vex no man.' boswell. 'have not they vexed yourself a little, sir? have not you been vexed by all the turbulence of this reign, and by that absurd vote of the house of commons, "that the influence of the crown has increased, is increasing, and ought to be diminished[ ]?"' johnson. 'sir, i have never slept an hour less, nor eat an ounce less meat[ ]. i would have knocked the factious dogs on the head, to be sure; but i was not _vexed_.' boswell. 'i declare, sir, upon my honour, i did imagine i was vexed, and took a pride in it; but it _was_, perhaps, cant; for i own i neither ate less, nor slept less.' johnson. 'my dear friend, clear your _mind_ of cant[ ]. you may _talk_ as other people do: you may say to a man, "sir, i am your most humble servant." you are not his most humble servant. you may say, "these are bad times; it is a melancholy thing to be reserved to such times." you don't mind the times. you tell a man, "i am sorry you had such bad weather the last day of your journey, and were so much wet." you don't care six-pence whether he is wet or dry. you may _talk_ in this manner; it is a mode of talking in society[ ]; but don't _think_ foolishly[ ].' i talked of living in the country. johnson. 'don't set up for what is called hospitality; it is a waste of time, and a waste of money; you are eaten up, and not the more respected for your liberality. if your house be like an inn, nobody cares for you. a man who stays a week with another, makes him a slave for a week.'[ ] boswell. 'but there are people, sir, who make their houses a home to their guests, and are themselves quite easy.' johnson. 'then, sir, home must be the same to the guests, and they need not come.' here he discovered a notion common enough in persons not much accustomed to entertain company, that there must be a degree of elaborate attention, otherwise company will think themselves neglected; and such attention is no doubt very fatiguing.[ ] he proceeded: 'i would not, however, be a stranger in my own county; i would visit my neighbours, and receive their visits; but i would not be in haste to return visits. if a gentleman comes to see me, i tell him he does me a great deal of honour. i do not go to see him perhaps for ten weeks; then we are very complaisant to each other. no, sir, you will have much more influence by giving or lending money where it is wanted, than by hospitality[ ].' on saturday, may , i saw him for a short time. having mentioned that i had that morning been with old mr. sheridan, he remembered their former intimacy with a cordial warmth, and said to me, 'tell mr. sheridan, i shall be glad to see him, and shake hands with him[ ].' boswell. 'it is to me very wonderful that resentment should be kept up so long.' johnson. 'why, sir, it is not altogether resentment that he does not visit me; it is partly falling out of the habit,--partly disgust, as one has at a drug that has made him sick. besides, he knows that i laugh at his oratory[ ].' another day i spoke of one of our friends, of whom he, as well as i, had a very high opinion. he expatiated in his praise; but added, 'sir, he is a cursed whig, a _bottomless_ whig, as they all are now[ ].' i mentioned my expectations from the interest of an eminent person[ ] then in power; adding, 'but i have no claim but the claim of friendship; however, some people will go a great way from that motive.' johnson. 'sir, they will go all the way from that motive.' a gentleman talked of retiring. 'never think of that,' said johnson. the gentleman urged, 'i should then do no ill.' johnson. nor no good either. sir, it would be a civil suicide[ ].' on monday, may , i found him at tea, and the celebrated miss burney, the authour of _evelina_[ ] and _cecilia_, with him. i asked if there would be any speakers in parliament, if there were no places to be obtained. johnson. 'yes, sir. why do you speak here? either to instruct and entertain, which is a benevolent motive; or for distinction, which is a selfish motive.' i mentioned _cecilia_. johnson. (with an air of animated satisfaction) 'sir, if you talk of _cecilia_, talk on[ ].' we talked of mr. barry's exhibition of his pictures. johnson. 'whatever the hand may have done, the mind has done its part. there is a grasp of mind there which you find nowhere else[ ].' i asked whether a man naturally virtuous, or one who has overcome wicked inclinations, is the best. johnson. 'sir, to _you_, the man who has overcome wicked inclinations is not the best. he has more merit to _himself_: i would rather trust my money to a man who has no hands, and so a physical impossibility to steal, than to a man of the most honest principles. there is a witty satirical story of foote. he had a small bust of garrick placed upon his bureau, "you may be surprized (said he) that i allow him to be so near my gold;--but you will observe he has no hands."' on friday, may [ ], being to set out for scotland next morning, i passed a part of the day with him in more than usual earnestness; as his health was in a more precarious state than at any time when i had parted from him. he, however, was quick and lively, and critical as usual. i mentioned one who was a very learned man. johnson. 'yes, sir, he has a great deal of learning; but it never lies straight. there is never one idea by the side of another; 'tis all entangled: and then he drives it so aukwardly upon conversation.' i stated to him an anxious thought, by which a sincere christian might be disturbed, even when conscious of having lived a good life, so far as is consistent with human infirmity; he might fear that he should afterwards fall away, and be guilty of such crimes as would render all his former religion vain. could there be, upon this aweful subject, such a thing as balancing of accounts? suppose a man who has led a good life for seven years, commits an act of wickedness, and instantly dies; will his former good life have any effect in his favour? johnson. 'sir, if a man has led a good life for seven years, and then is hurried by passion to do what is wrong, and is suddenly carried off, depend upon it he will have the reward of his seven years' good life; god will not take a catch of him. upon this principle richard baxter believes that a suicide may be saved. "if, (says he) it should be objected that what i maintain may encourage suicide, i answer, i am not to tell a lie to prevent it."' boswell. 'but does not the text say, "as the tree falls, so it must lie[ ]?"' johnson. 'yes, sir; as the tree falls: but,--(after a little pause)--that is meant as to the general state of the tree, not what is the effect of a sudden blast.' in short, he interpreted the expression as referring to condition, not to position. the common notion, therefore, seems to be erroneous; and shenstone's witty remark on divines trying to give the tree a jerk upon a death-bed, to make it lie favourably, is not well founded[ ]. i asked him what works of richard baxter's i should read. he said, 'read any of them; they are all good[ ].' he said, 'get as much force of mind as you can. live within your income. always have something saved at the end of the year. let your imports be more than your exports, and you'll never go far wrong.' i assured him, that in the extensive and various range of his acquaintance there never had been any one who had a more sincere respect and affection for him than i had. he said, 'i believe it, sir. were i in distress, there is no man to whom i should sooner come than to you. i should like to come and have a cottage in your park, toddle about, live mostly on milk, and be taken care of by mrs. boswell. she and i are good friends now; are we not?' talking of devotion, he said, 'though it be true that "god dwelleth not in temples made with hands[ ]," yet in this state of being, our minds are more piously affected in places appropriated to divine worship, than in others. some people have a particular room in their house, where they say their prayers; of which i do not disapprove, as it may animate their devotion.' he embraced me, and gave me his blessing, as usual when i was leaving him for any length of time. i walked from his door to-day, with a fearful apprehension of what might happen before i returned. 'to the right honourable william windham. sir, the bringer of this letter is the father of miss philips[ ], a singer, who comes to try her voice on the stage at dublin. mr. philips is one of my old friends; and as i am of opinion that neither he nor his daughter will do any thing that can disgrace their benefactors, i take the liberty of entreating you to countenance and protect them so far as may be suitable to your station[ ] and character; and shall consider myself as obliged by any favourable notice which they shall have the honour of receiving from you. i am, sir, your most humble servant, sam johnson. london, may , .' the following is another instance of his active benevolence:-- 'to sir joshua reynolds. dear sir, i have sent you some of my god-son's[ ] performances, of which i do not pretend to form any opinion. when i took the liberty of mentioning him to you, i did not know what i have since been told, that mr. moser[ ] had admitted him among the students of the academy. what more can be done for him i earnestly entreat you to consider; for i am very desirous that he should derive some advantage from my connection with him. if you are inclined to see him, i will bring him to wait on you, at any time that you shall be pleased to appoint. i am, sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. june , .' my anxious apprehensions at parting with him this year proved to be but too well founded; for not long afterwards he had a dreadful stroke of the palsy, of which there are very full and accurate accounts in letters written by himself, to shew with what composure of mind, and resignation to the divine will, his steady piety enabled him to behave. 'to mr. edmund allen[ ]. dear sir, it has pleased god, this morning, to deprive me of the powers of speech; and as i do not know but that it may be his further good pleasure to deprive me soon of my senses, i request you will on the receipt of this note, come to me, and act for me, as the exigencies of my case may require. i am, sincerely yours, sam. johnson. june , .' 'to the reverend dr. john taylor. 'dear sir, it has pleased god, by a paralytick stroke in the night, to deprive me of speech. i am very desirous of dr. heberden's[ ] assistance, as i think my case is not past remedy. let me see you as soon as it is possible. bring dr. heberden with you, if you can; but come yourself at all events. i am glad you are so well, when i am so dreadfully attacked. i think that by a speedy application of stimulants much may be done. i question if a vomit, vigorous and rough, would not rouse the organs of speech to action. as it is too early to send, i will try to recollect what i can, that can be suspected to have brought on this dreadful distress. i have been accustomed to bleed frequently for an asthmatick complaint; but have forborne for some time by dr. pepys's persuasion, who perceived my legs beginning to swell. i sometimes alleviate a painful, or more properly an oppressive, constriction of my chest, by opiates; and have lately taken opium frequently, but the last, or two last times, in smaller quantities. my largest dose is three grains, and last night i took but two[ ]. you will suggest these things (and they are all that i can call to mind) to dr. heberden. i am, &c. sam. johnson[ ]. june , .' two days after he wrote thus to mrs. thrale[ ]:-- 'on monday, the th, i sat for my picture[ ], and walked a considerable way with little inconvenience. in the afternoon and evening i felt myself light and easy, and began to plan schemes of life. thus i went to bed, and in a short time waked and sat up, as has been long my custom, when i felt a confusion and indistinctness in my head, which lasted, i suppose, about half a minute. i was alarmed, and prayed god, that however he might afflict my body, he would spare my understanding. this prayer, that i might try the integrity of my faculties, i made in latin verse[ ]. the lines were not very good, but i knew them not to be very good: i made them easily, and concluded myself to be unimpaired in my faculties. soon after i perceived that i had suffered a paralytick stroke, and that my speech was taken from me. i had no pain, and so little dejection in this dreadful state, that i wondered at my own apathy, and considered that perhaps death itself, when it should come, would excite less horrour than seems now to attend it. in order to rouse the vocal organs, i took two drams. wine has been celebrated for the production of eloquence. i put myself into violent motion, and i think repeated it; but all was vain. i then went to bed, and strange as it may seem, i think slept. when i saw light, it was time to contrive what i should do. though god stopped my speech, he left me my hand; i enjoyed a mercy which was not granted to my dear friend lawrence[ ], who now perhaps overlooks me as i am writing, and rejoices that i have what he wanted. my first note was necessarily to my servant, who came in talking, and could not immediately comprehend why he should read what i put into his hands. i then wrote a card to mr. allen, that i might have a discreet friend at hand, to act as occasion should require. in penning this note, i had some difficulty; my hand, i knew not how nor why, made wrong letters. i then wrote to dr. taylor to come to me, and bring dr. heberden; and i sent to dr. brocklesby, who is my neighbour. my physicians are very friendly, and give me great hopes; but you may imagine my situation. i have so far recovered my vocal powers, as to repeat the lord's prayer with no very imperfect articulation. my memory, i hope, yet remains as it was; but such an attack produces solicitude for the safety of every faculty.' 'to mr. thomas davies. 'dear sir, i have had, indeed, a very heavy blow; but god, who yet spares my life, i humbly hope will spare my understanding, and restore my speech. as i am not at all helpless, i want no particular assistance, but am strongly affected by mrs. davies's tenderness; and when i think she can do me good, shall be very glad to call upon her. i had ordered friends to be shut out; but one or two have found the way in; and if you come you shall be admitted: for i know not whom i can see, that will bring more amusement on his tongue, or more kindness in his heart. i am, &c. sam. johnson. june , .' it gives me great pleasure to preserve such a memorial of johnson's regard for mr. davies, to whom i was indebted for my introduction to him[ ]. he indeed loved davies cordially, of which i shall give the following little evidence. one day when he had treated him with too much asperity. tom, who was not without pride and spirit, went off in a passion; but he had hardly reached home, when frank, who had been sent after him, delivered this note:--'come, come, dear davies, i am always sorry when we quarrel; send me word that we are friends.' 'to james boswell, esq. dear sir, your anxiety about my health is very friendly, and very agreeable with your general kindness. i have, indeed, had a very frightful blow. on the th of last month, about three in the morning, as near as i can guess, i perceived myself almost totally deprived of speech. i had no pain. my organs were so obstructed, that i could say _no_, but could scarcely say _yes_. i wrote the necessary directions, for it pleased god to spare my hand, and sent for dr. heberden and dr. brocklesby. between the time in which i discovered my own disorder, and that in which i sent for the doctors, i had, i believe, in spite of my surprize and solicitude, a little sleep, and nature began to renew its operations. they came, and gave the directions which the disease required, and from that time i have been continually improving in articulation. i can now speak, but the nerves are weak, and i cannot continue discourse long; but strength, i hope, will return. the physicians consider me as cured. i was last sunday at church. on tuesday i took an airing to hampstead, and dined with the club[ ], where lord palmerston was proposed, and, against my opinion, was rejected[ ]. i designed to go next week with mr. langton to rochester, where i purpose to stay about ten days, and then try some other air. i have many kind invitations. your brother has very frequently enquired after me. most of my friends have, indeed, been very attentive[ ]. thank dear lord hailes for his present. i hope you found at your return every thing gay and prosperous, and your lady, in particular, quite recovered and confirmed. pay her my respects. i am, dear sir, your most humble servant, sam. johnson. london, july , .' 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. dear madam, the account which you give of your health is but melancholy. may it please god to restore you. my disease affected my speech, and still continues, in some degree, to obstruct my utterance; my voice is distinct enough for a while; but the organs being still weak are quickly weary: but in other respects i am, i think, rather better than i have lately been; and can let you know my state without the help of any other hand. in the opinion of my friends, and in my own, i am gradually mending. the physicians consider me as cured; and i had leave, four days ago, to wash the cantharides from my head. last tuesday i dined at the club. i am going next week into kent, and purpose to change the air frequently this summer; whether i shall wander so far as staffordshire i cannot tell. i should be glad to come. return my thanks to mrs. cobb, and mr. pearson, and all that have shewn attention to me. let us, my dear, pray for one another, and consider our sufferings as notices mercifully given us to prepare ourselves for another state. i live now but in a melancholy way. my old friend mr. levett is dead, who lived with me in the house, and was useful and companionable; mrs. desmoulins is gone away[ ]; and mrs. williams is so much decayed, that she can add little to another's gratifications. the world passes away, and we are passing with it; but there is, doubtless, another world, which will endure for ever. let us all fit ourselves for it. i am, &c., sam. johnson. london, july , .' such was the general vigour of his constitution, that he recovered from this alarming and severe attack with wonderful quickness; so that in july he was able to make a visit to mr. langton at rochester[ ], where he passed about a fortnight, and made little excursions as easily as at any time of his life[ ]. in august he went as far as the neighbourhood of salisbury, to heale[ ], the seat of william bowles, esq[ ]., a gentleman whom i have heard him praise for exemplary religious order in his family. in his diary i find a short but honourable mention of this visit: 'august , i came to heale without fatigue. . i am entertained quite to my mind.' 'to dr. brocklesby. heale, near salisbury, aug. , . dear sir, without appearing to want a just sense of your kind attention, i cannot omit to give an account of the day which seemed to appear in some sort perilous. i rose at five and went out at six, and having reached salisbury about nine[ ], went forward a few miles in my friend's chariot. i was no more wearied with the journey, though it was a high-hung, rough coach, than i should have been forty years ago. we shall now see what air will do. the country is all a plain; and the house in which i am, so far as i can judge from my window, for i write before i have left my chamber, is sufficiently pleasant. be so kind as to continue your attention to mrs. williams; it is great consolation to the well, and still greater to the sick, that they find themselves not neglected; and i know that you will be desirous of giving comfort even where you have no great hope of giving help. since i wrote the former part of the letter, i find that by the course of the post i cannot send it before the thirty-first. i am, &c. sam. johnson.' while he was here he had a letter from dr. brocklesby, acquainting him of the death of mrs. williams, which affected him a good deal[ ]. though for several years her temper had not been complacent, she had valuable qualities, and her departure left a blank in his house[ ]. upon this occasion he, according to his habitual course of piety, composed a prayer[ ]. i shall here insert a few particulars concerning him, with which i have been favoured by one of his friends[ ]. 'he had once conceived the design of writing the life of oliver cromwell[ ], saying, that he thought it must be highly curious to trace his extraordinary rise to the supreme power, from so obscure a beginning. he at length laid aside his scheme, on discovering that all that can be told of him is already in print; and that it is impracticable to procure any authentick information in addition to what the world is already possessed of[ ].' 'he had likewise projected, but at what part of his life is not known, a work to shew how small a quantity of real fiction there is in the world; and that the same images, with very little variation, have served all the authours who have ever written[ ].' 'his thoughts in the latter part of his life were frequently employed on his deceased friends. he often muttered these, or such like sentences: "poor man! and then he died."' 'speaking of a certain literary friend, "he is a very pompous puzzling fellow, (said he); he lent me a letter once that somebody had written to him, no matter what it was about; but he wanted to have the letter back, and expressed a mighty value for it; he hoped it was to be met with again, he would not lose it for a thousand pounds. i layed my hand upon it soon afterwards, and gave it him. i believe i said, i was very glad to have met with it. o, then he did not know that it signified any thing. so you see, when the letter was lost it was worth a thousand pounds, and when it was found it was not worth a farthing."' 'the style and character of his conversation is pretty generally known; it was certainly conducted in conformity with a precept of lord bacon, but it is not clear, i apprehend, that this conformity was either perceived or intended by johnson. the precept alluded to is as follows: "in all kinds of speech, either pleasant, grave, severe, or ordinary, it is convenient to speak leisurely, and rather drawingly than hastily: because hasty speech confounds the memory, and oftentimes, besides the unseemliness, drives the man either to stammering, a non-plus, or harping on that which should follow; whereas a slow speech confirmeth the memory, addeth a conceit of wisdom to the hearers, besides a seemliness of speech and countenance[ ]." dr. johnson's method of conversation was certainly calculated to excite attention, and to amuse and instruct, (as it happened,) without wearying or confusing his company. he was always most perfectly clear and perspicuous; and his language was so accurate, and his sentences so neatly constructed, that his conversation might have been all printed without any correction. at the same time, it was easy and natural; the accuracy of it had no appearance of labour, constraint, or stiffness; he seemed more correct than others, by the force of habit, and the customary exercises of his powerful mind[ ].' 'he spoke often in praise of french literature. "the french are excellent in this, (he would say,) they have a book on every subject[ ]." from what he had seen of them he denied them the praise of superiour politeness[ ], and mentioned, with very visible disgust, the custom they have of spitting on the floors of their apartments. "this, (said the doctor) is as gross a thing as can well be done; and one wonders how any man, or set of men, can persist in so offensive a practice for a whole day together; one should expect that the first effort towards civilization would remove it even among savages[ ]."' 'baxter's _reasons of the christian religion_, he thought contained the best collection of the evidences of the divinity of the christian system.' 'chymistry[ ] was always an interesting pursuit with dr. johnson. whilst he was in wiltshire, he attended some experiments that were made by a physician at salisbury, on the new kinds of air[ ]. in the course of the experiments frequent mention being made of dr. priestley, dr. johnson knit his brows, and in a stern manner enquired, "why do we hear so much of dr. priestley[ ]?" he was very properly answered, "sir, because we are indebted to him for these important discoveries." on this dr. johnson appeared well content; and replied, "well, well, i believe we are; and let every man have the honour he has merited."' 'a friend was one day, about two years before his death, struck with some instance of dr. johnson's great candour. "well, sir, (said he,) i will always say that you are a very candid man." "will you," (replied the doctor,) i doubt then you will be very singular. but, indeed, sir, (continued he,) i look upon myself to be a man very much misunderstood. i am not an uncandid, nor am i a severe man. i sometimes say more than i mean, in jest; and people are apt to believe me serious: however, i am more candid than i was when i was younger. as i know more of mankind i expect less of them, and am ready now to call a man a _good man_, upon easier terms than i was formerly[ ].' on his return from heale he wrote to dr. burney:-- 'i came home on the th[ ] at noon to a very disconsolate house. you and i have lost our friends[ ]; but you have more friends at home. my domestick companion is taken from me. she is much missed, for her acquisitions were many, and her curiosity universal; so that she partook of every conversation[ ]. i am not well enough to go much out; and to sit, and eat, or fast alone, is very wearisome. i always mean to send my compliments to all the ladies.' his fortitude and patience met with severe trials during this year. the stroke of the palsy has been related circumstantially; but he was also afflicted with the gout, and was besides troubled with a complaint which not only was attended with immediate inconvenience, but threatened him with a chirurgical operation, from which most men would shrink. the complaint was a _sarcocele_, which johnson bore with uncommon firmness, and was not at all frightened while he looked forward to amputation. he was attended by mr. pott and mr. cruikshank. i have before me a letter of the th of july this year, to mr. cruikshank, in which he says, 'i am going to put myself into your hands;' and another, accompanying a set of his _lives of the poets_, in which he says, 'i beg your acceptance of these volumes, as an acknowledgement of the great favours which you have bestowed on, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant.' i have in my possession several more letters from him to mr. cruikshank, and also to dr. mudge at plymouth, which it would be improper to insert, as they are filled with unpleasing technical details. i shall, however, extract from his letters to dr. mudge such passages as shew either a felicity of expression, or the undaunted state of his mind. 'my conviction of your skill, and my belief of your friendship, determine me to intreat your opinion and advice.'--'in this state i with great earnestness desire you to tell me what is to be done. excision is doubtless necessary to the cure, and i know not any means of palliation. the operation is doubtless painful; but is it dangerous? the pain i hope to endure with decency[ ]; but i am loth to put life into much hazard.'--'by representing the gout as an antagonist to the palsy, you have said enough to make it welcome. this is not strictly the first fit, but i hope it is as good as the first; for it is the second that ever confined me; and the first was ten years ago[ ], much less fierce and fiery than this.'--'write, dear sir, what you can to inform or encourage me. the operation is not delayed by any fears or objections of mine.' to bennet langton, esq. 'dear sir, you may very reasonably charge me with insensibility of your kindness, and that of lady rothes, since i have suffered so much time to pass without paying any acknowledgement. i now, at last, return my thanks; and why i did it not sooner i ought to tell you. i went into wiltshire as soon as i well could, and was there much employed in palliating my own malady. disease produces much selfishness. a man in pain is looking after ease; and lets most other things go as chance shall dispose of them. in the mean time i have lost a companion[ ], to whom i have had recourse for domestick amusement for thirty years, and whose variety of knowledge never was exhausted; and now return to a habitation vacant and desolate. i carry about a very troublesome and dangerous complaint, which admits no cure but by the chirurgical knife. let me have your prayers. i am, &c. sam. johnson. london, sept. , .' happily the complaint abated without his being put to the torture of amputation. but we must surely admire the manly resolution which he discovered while it hung over him. in a letter to the same gentleman he writes, 'the gout has within these four days come upon me with a violence which i never experienced before. it made me helpless as an infant.' and in another, having mentioned mrs. williams, he says,--'whose death following that of levett, has now made my house a solitude. she left her little substance to a charity-school. she is, i hope, where there is neither darkness, nor want, nor sorrow.' i wrote to him, begging to know the state of his health, and mentioned that baxter's _anacreon_[ ], 'which is in the library at auchinleck, was, i find, collated by my father in , with the ms. belonging to the university of leyden, and he has made a number of notes upon it. would you advise me to publish a new edition of it?' his answer was dated september :-- 'you should not make your letters such rarities, when you know, or might know, the uniform state of my health. it is very long since i heard from you; and that i have not answered is a very insufficient reason for the silence of a friend. your _anacreon_ is a very uncommon book; neither london nor cambridge can supply a copy of that edition. whether it should be reprinted, you cannot do better than consult lord hailes.--besides my constant and radical disease, i have been for these ten days much harassed with the gout; but that has now remitted. i hope god will yet grant me a little longer life, and make me less unfit to appear before him.' he this autumn received a visit from the celebrated mrs. siddons. he gives this account of it in one of his letters[ ] to mrs. thrale:-- 'mrs. siddons, in her visit to me, behaved with great modesty and propriety, and left nothing behind her to be censured or despised. neither praise nor money, the two powerful corrupters of mankind, seem to have depraved her. i shall be glad to see her again. her brother kemble calls on me, and pleases me very well. mrs. siddons and i talked of plays; and she told me her intention of exhibiting this winter the characters of constance, catharine, and isabella, in shakspeare.' mr. kemble has favoured me with the following minute of what passed at this visit:-- 'when mrs. siddons came into the room, there happened to be no chair ready for her, which he observing, said with a smile, "madam, you who so often occasion a want of seats to other people, will the more easily excuse the want of one yourself[ ]." having placed himself by her, he with great good-humour entered upon a consideration of the english drama; and, among other inquiries, particularly asked her which of shakspeare's characters she was most pleased with. upon her answering that she thought the character of queen catharine, in _henry the eighth_, the most natural:--"i think so too, madam, (said he;) and whenever you perform it, i will once more hobble out to the theatre myself[ ]." mrs. siddons promised she would do herself the honour of acting his favourite part for him; but many circumstances happened to prevent the representation of _king henry the eighth_ during the doctor's life. 'in the course of the evening he thus gave his opinion upon the merits of some of the principal performers whom he remembered to have seen upon the stage. "mrs. porter,[ ] in the vehemence of rage, and mrs. clive in the sprightliness of humour, i have never seen equalled. what clive did best, she did better than garrick; but could not do half so many things well; she was a better romp than any i ever saw in nature[ ]. pritchard[ ], in common life, was a vulgar ideot; she would talk of her _gownd_: but, when she appeared upon the stage, seemed to be inspired by gentility and understanding. i once talked with colley cibber[ ], and thought him ignorant of the principles of his art. garrick, madam, was no declaimer; there was not one of his own scene-shifters who could not have spoken _to be, or not to be_, better than he did[ ]; yet he was the only actor i ever saw, whom i could call a master both in tragedy and comedy[ ]; though i liked him best in comedy. a true conception of character, and natural expression of it, were his distinguished excellencies." having expatiated, with his usual force and eloquence, on mr. garrick's extraordinary eminence as an actor, he concluded with this compliment to his social talents: "and after all, madam, i thought him less to be envied on the stage than at the head of a table."' johnson, indeed, had thought more upon the subject of acting than might be generally supposed[ ]. talking of it one day to mr. kemble, he said, 'are you, sir, one of those enthusiasts who believe yourself transformed into the very character you represent?' upon mr. kemble's answering that he had never felt so strong a persuasion himself[ ]; 'to be sure not, sir, (said johnson;) the thing is impossible. and if garrick really believed himself to be that monster, richard the third, he deserved to be hanged every time he performed it[ ].' a pleasing instance of the generous attention of one of his friends has been discovered by the publication of mrs. thrale's collection of _letters_. in a letter to one of the miss thrales[ ], he writes,-- 'a friend, whose name i will tell when your mamma has tried to guess it, sent to my physician to enquire whether this long train of illness had brought me into difficulties for want of money, with an invitation to send to him for what occasion required. i shall write this night to thank him, having no need to borrow.' and afterwards, in a letter to mrs. thrale,-- 'since you cannot guess, i will tell you, that the generous man was gerard hamilton. i returned him a very thankful and respectful letter[ ].' i applied to mr. hamilton, by a common friend, and he has been so obliging as to let me have johnson's letter to him upon this occasion, to adorn my collection. 'to the right honourable william gerard hamilton. 'dear sir, 'your kind enquiries after my affairs, and your generous offers, have been communicated to me by dr. brocklesby. i return thanks with great sincerity, having lived long enough to know what gratitude is due to such friendship; and entreat that my refusal may not be imputed to sullenness or pride. i am, indeed, in no want. sickness is, by the generosity of my physicians, of little expence to me. but if any unexpected exigence should press me, you shall see, dear sir, how cheerfully i can be obliged to so much liberality. 'i am, sir, your most obedient and most humble servant, sam. johnson.' 'november, , [ ].' i find in this, as in former years, notices of his kind attention to mrs. gardiner[ ], who, though in the humble station of a tallow-chandler upon snow-hill, was a woman of excellent good sense, pious, and charitable. she told me, she had been introduced to him by mrs. masters[ ], the poetess, whose volumes he revised, and, it is said, illuminated here and there with a ray of his own genius. mrs. gardiner was very zealous for the support of the ladies' charity-school, in the parish of st. sepulchre. it is confined to females; and, i am told, it afforded a hint for the story of _betty broom_ in _the idler_[ ]. johnson this year, i find, obtained for it a sermon from the late bishop of st. asaph, dr. shipley, whom he, in one of his letters to mrs. thrale[ ], characterises as 'knowing and conversible;' and whom all who knew his lordship, even those who differed from him in politicks, remember with much respect[ ]. the earl of carlisle having written a tragedy, entitled _the fathers revenge_[ ], some of his lordship's friends applied to mrs. chapone[ ] to prevail on dr. johnson to read and give his opinion of it[ ], which he accordingly did, in a letter to that lady. sir joshua reynolds having informed me that this letter was in lord carlisle's possession, though i was not fortunate enough to have the honour of being known to his lordship, trusting to the general courtesy of literature, i wrote to him, requesting the favour of a copy of it, and to be permitted to insert it in my _life of dr. johnson_. his lordship was so good as to comply with my request, and has thus enabled me to enrich my work with a very fine piece of writing, which displays both the critical skill and politeness of my illustrious friend; and perhaps the curiosity which it will excite, may induce the noble and elegant authour to gratify the world by the publication[ ] of a performance, of which dr. johnson has spoken in such terms. 'to mrs. chapone. 'madam, 'by sending the tragedy to me a second time[ ], i think that a very honourable distinction has been shewn me, and i did not delay the perusal, of which i am now to tell the effect. 'the construction of the play is not completely regular; the stage is too often vacant, and the scenes are not sufficiently connected. this, however, would be called by dryden only a mechanical defect[ ]; which takes away little from the power of the poem, and which is seen rather than felt. 'a rigid examiner of the diction might, perhaps, wish some words changed, and some lines more vigorously terminated. but from such petty imperfections what writer was ever free? 'the general form and force of the dialogue is of more importance. it seems to want that quickness of reciprocation which characterises the english drama, and is not always sufficiently fervid or animated. 'of the sentiments i remember not one that i wished omitted. in the imagery i cannot forbear to distinguish the comparison of joy succeeding grief to light rushing on the eye accustomed to darkness. it seems to have all that can be desired to make it please. it is new, just, and delightful[ ]. 'with the characters, either as conceived or preserved, i have no fault to find; but was much inclined to congratulate a writer, who, in defiance of prejudice and fashion, made the archbishop a good man, and scorned all thoughtless applause, which a vicious churchman would have brought him. 'the catastrophe is affecting. the father and daughter both culpable, both wretched, and both penitent, divide between them our pity and our sorrow. 'thus, madam, i have performed what i did not willingly undertake, and could not decently refuse. the noble writer will be pleased to remember, that sincere criticism ought to raise no resentment, because judgement is not under the controul of will; but involuntary criticism, as it has still less of choice, ought to be more remote from possibility of offence. 'i am, &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'november , .' i consulted him on two questions of a very different nature: one, whether the unconstitutional influence exercised by the peers of scotland in the election of the representatives of the commons[ ], by means of fictitious qualifications, ought not to be resisted;--the other, what, in propriety and humanity, should be done with old horses unable to labour. i gave him some account of my life at auchinleck: and expressed my satisfaction that the gentlemen of the county had, at two publick meetings, elected me their _praeses_ or chairman[ ]. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'like all other men who have great friends, you begin to feel the pangs of neglected merit; and all the comfort that i can give you is, by telling you that you have probably more pangs to feel, and more neglect to suffer. you have, indeed, begun to complain too soon; and i hope i am the only confidant of your discontent. your friends have not yet had leisure to gratify personal kindness; they have hitherto been busy in strengthening their ministerial interest[ ]. if a vacancy happens in scotland, give them early intelligence; and as you can serve government as powerfully as any of your probable competitors, you may make in some sort a warrantable claim. 'of the exaltations and depressions of your mind you delight to talk, and i hate to hear. drive all such fancies from you. 'on the day when i received your letter, i think, the foregoing page was written; to which, one disease or another has hindered me from making any additions. i am now a little better. but sickness and solitude press me very heavily. i could bear sickness better, if i were relieved from solitude[ ]. 'the present dreadful confusion of the publick[ ] ought to make you wrap yourself up in your hereditary possessions, which, though less than you may wish, are more than you can want; and in an hour of religious retirement return thanks to god, who has exempted you from any strong temptation to faction, treachery, plunder[ ], and disloyalty. 'as your neighbours distinguish you by such honours as they can bestow, content yourself with your station, without neglecting your profession. your estate and the courts will find you full employment; and your mind, well occupied, will be quiet. 'the usurpation of the nobility, for they apparently usurp all the influence they gain by fraud and misrepresentation, i think it certainly lawful, perhaps your duty, to resist. what is not their own they have only by robbery. 'your question about the horses gives me more perplexity. i know not well what advice to give you. i can only recommend a rule which you do not want;--give as little pain as you can. i suppose that we have a right to their service while their strength lasts; what we can do with them afterwards i cannot so easily determine. but let us consider. nobody denies that man has a right first to milk the cow, and to sheer the sheep, and then to kill them for his table. may he not, by parity of reason, first work a horse, and then kill him the easiest way, that he may have the means of another horse, or food for cows and sheep? man is influenced in both cases by different motives of self-interest. he that rejects the one must reject the other. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, dec. , .' 'a happy and pious christmas; and many happy years to you, your lady, and children.' the late ingenious mr. mickle[ ], some time before his death, wrote me a letter concerning dr. johnson, in which he mentions,-- 'i was upwards of twelve years acquainted with him, was frequently in his company, always talked with ease to him, and can truly say, that i never received from him one rough word.' in this letter he relates his having, while engaged in translating the _lusiad_, had a dispute of considerable length with johnson, who, as usual, declaimed upon the misery and corruption of a sea life, and used this expression:--'it had been happy for the world, sir, if your hero gama, prince henry of portugal, and columbus, had never been born, or that their schemes had never gone farther than their own imaginations.' 'this sentiment, (says mr. mickle,) which is to be found in his _introduction to the world displayed_[ ], i, in my dissertation prefixed to the _lusiad_, have controverted; and though authours are said to be bad judges of their own works[ ], i am not ashamed to own to a friend, that that dissertation is my favourite above all that i ever attempted in prose. next year, when the lusiad was published, i waited on dr. johnson, who addressed me with one of his good-humoured smiles:--"well, you have remembered our dispute about prince henry, and have cited me too. you have done your part very well indeed: you have made the best of your argument; but i am not convinced yet." 'before publishing the _lusiad_, i sent mr. hoole a proof of that part of the introduction, in which i make mention of dr. johnson, yourself, and other well-wishers to the work, begging it might be shewn to dr. johnson. this was accordingly done; and in place of the simple mention of him which i had made, he dictated to mr. hoole the sentence as it now stands[ ]. 'dr. johnson told me in , that, about twenty years before that time, he himself had a design to translate the _lusiad_, of the merit of which he spoke highly, but had been prevented by a number of other engagements.' mr. mickle reminds me in this letter of a conversation, at dinner one day at mr. hoole's with dr. johnson, when mr. nicol the king's bookseller and i attempted to controvert the maxim, 'better that ten guilty should escape, than one innocent person suffer;' and were answered by dr. johnson with great power of reasoning and eloquence. i am very sorry that i have no record of that day[ ]: but i well recollect my illustrious friend's having ably shewn, that unless civil institutions insure protection to the innocent, all the confidence which mankind should have in them would be lost. i shall here mention what, in strict chronological arrangement, should have appeared in my account of last year; but may more properly be introduced here, the controversy having not been closed till this. the reverend mr. shaw[ ], a native of one of the hebrides, having entertained doubts of the authenticity of the poems ascribed to ossian, divested himself of national bigotry; and having travelled in the highlands and islands of scotland, and also in ireland, in order to furnish himself with materials for a _gaelick dictionary_, which he afterwards compiled[ ], was so fully satisfied that dr. johnson was in the right upon the question, that he candidly published a pamphlet, stating his conviction and the proofs and reasons on which it was founded. a person at edinburgh, of the name of clark, answered this pamphlet with much zeal, and much abuse of its authour. johnson took mr. shaw under his protection, and gave him his assistance in writing a reply, which has been admired by the best judges, and by many been considered as conclusive. a few paragraphs, which sufficiently mark their great authour, shall be selected:-- 'my assertions are, for the most part, purely negative: i deny the existence of fingal, because in a long and curious peregrination through the gaelick regions i have never been able to find it. what i could not see myself i suspect to be equally invisible to others; and i suspect with the more reason, as among all those who have seen it no man can shew it. 'mr. clark compares the obstinacy of those who disbelieve the genuineness of ossian to a blind man, who should dispute the reality of colours, and deny that the british troops are cloathed in red. the blind man's doubt would be rational, if he did not know by experience that others have a power which he himself wants: but what perspicacity has mr. clark which nature has withheld from me or the rest of mankind? 'the true state of the parallel must be this. suppose a man, with eyes like his neighbours, was told by a boasting corporal, that the troops, indeed, wore red clothes for their ordinary dress, but that every soldier had likewise a suit of black velvet, which he put on when the king reviews them. this he thinks strange, and desires to see the fine clothes, but finds nobody in forty thousand men that can produce either coat or waistcoat. one, indeed, has left them in his chest at port mahon; another has always heard that he ought to have velvet clothes somewhere; and a third has heard somebody say, that soldiers ought to wear velvet. can the enquirer be blamed if he goes away believing that a soldier's red coat is all that he has? 'but the most obdurate incredulity may be shamed or silenced by acts. to overpower contradictions, let the soldier shew his velvet-coat, and the fingalist the original of ossian[ ]. 'the difference between us and the blind man is this:--the blind man is unconvinced, because he cannot see; and we, because though we can see, we find that nothing can be shown.' notwithstanding the complication of disorders under which johnson now laboured, he did not resign himself to despondency and discontent, but with wisdom and spirit endeavoured to console and amuse his mind with as many innocent enjoyments as he could procure. sir john hawkins has mentioned the cordiality with which he insisted that such of the members of the old club in ivy-lane[ ] as survived, should meet again and dine together, which they did, twice at a tavern and once at his house[ ]: and in order to insure himself society in the evening for three days in the week[ ], he instituted a club at the essex head, in essex-street, then kept by samuel greaves, an old servant of mr. thrale's. 'to sir joshua reynolds. 'dear sir, 'it is inconvenient to me to come out, i should else have waited on you with an account of a little evening club which we are establishing in essex-street, in the strand, and of which you are desired to be one. it will be held at the essex head, now kept by an old servant of thrale's. the company is numerous, and, as you will see by the list, miscellaneous. the terms are lax, and the expences light. mr. barry was adopted by dr. brocklesby, who joined with me in forming the plan. we meet thrice a week, and he who misses forfeits two-pence[ ]. 'if you are willing to become a member, draw a line under your name. return the list. we meet for the first time on monday at eight.' 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'dec. , .' it did not suit sir joshua to be one of this club. but when i mention only mr. daines barrington, dr. brocklesby, mr. murphy, mr. john nichols, mr. cooke, mr. joddrel, mr. paradise, dr. horsley, mr. windham[ ], i shall sufficiently obviate the misrepresentation of it by sir john hawkins, as if it had been a low ale-house association, by which johnson was degraded[ ]. johnson himself, like his namesake old ben[ ], composed the rules of his club[ ]. in the end of this year he was seized with a spasmodick asthma of such violence, that he was confined to the house in great pain, being sometimes obliged to sit all night in his chair, a recumbent posture being so hurtful to his respiration, that he could not endure lying in bed; and there came upon him at the same time that oppressive and fatal disease, a dropsy. it was a very severe winter, which probably aggravated his complaints; and the solitude in which mr. levett and mrs. williams had left him, rendered his life very gloomy. mrs. desmoulins[ ], who still lived, was herself so very ill, that she could contribute very little to his relief[ ]. he, however, had none of that unsocial shyness which we commonly see in people afflicted with sickness. he did not hide his head from the world, in solitary abstraction; he did not deny himself to the visits of his friends and acquaintances; but at all times, when he was not overcome by sleep, was ready for conversation as in his best days[ ]. 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam, 'you may perhaps think me negligent that i have not written to you again[ ] upon the loss of your brother; but condolences and consolations are such common and such useless things, that the omission of them is no great crime: and my own diseases occupy my mind, and engage my care. my nights are miserably restless, and my days, therefore, are heavy. i try, however, to hold up my head as high as i can[ ]. 'i am sorry that your health is impaired; perhaps the spring and the summer may, in some degree, restore it: but if not, we must submit to the inconveniences of time, as to the other dispensations of eternal goodness. pray for me, and write to me, or let mr. pearson write for you. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, nov. , .' : aetat. .--and now i am arrived at the last year of the life of samuel johnson, a year in which, although passed in severe indisposition, he nevertheless gave many evidences of the continuance of those wondrous powers of mind, which raised him so high in the intellectual world. his conversation and his letters of this year were in no respect inferiour to those of former years. the following is a remarkable proof of his being alive to the most minute curiosities of literature. 'to mr. dilly, bookseller, in the poultry. 'sir, 'there is in the world a set of books which used to be sold by the booksellers on the bridge[ ], and which i must entreat you to procure me. they are called _burton's books_[ ]; the title of one is _admirable curiosities, rarities, and wonders in england_. i believe there are about five or six of them; they seem very proper to allure backward readers; be so kind as to get them for me, and send me them with the best printed edition of _baxter's call to the unconverted_. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'to mr. perkins. 'dear sir, 'i was very sorry not to see you when you were so kind as to call on me; but to disappoint friends, and if they are not very good natured, to disoblige them, is one of the evils of sickness. if you will please to let me know which of the afternoons in this week i shall be favoured with another visit by you and mrs. perkins, and the young people, i will take all the measures that i can to be pretty well at that time[ ]. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' his attention to the essex-head club appears from the following letter to mr. alderman clark, a gentleman for whom he deservedly entertained a great regard. 'to richard clark, esq. 'dear sir, 'you will receive a requisition, according to the rules of the club, to be at the house as president of the night. this turn comes once a month, and the member is obliged to attend, or send another in his place. you were enrolled in the club by my invitation, and i ought to introduce you; but as i am hindered by sickness, mr. hoole will very properly supply my place as introductor, or yours as president. i hope in milder weather to be a very constant attendant. 'i am, sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'jan. , .' 'you ought to be informed that the forfeits began with the year, and that every night of non-attendance incurs the mulct of three-pence, that is, nine pence a week.' on the th of january i wrote to him, anxiously inquiring as to his health, and enclosing my _letter to the people of scotland, on the present state of the nation_[ ]. 'i trust, (said i,) that you will be liberal enough to make allowance for my differing from you on two points, (the middlesex election, and the american war[ ]) when my general principles of government are according to your own heart, and when, at a crisis of doubtful event, i stand forth with honest zeal as an ancient and faithful briton. my reason for introducing those two points was, that as my opinions with regard to them had been declared at the periods when they were least favourable, i might have the credit of a man who is not a worshipper of ministerial power.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i hear of many enquiries which your kindness has disposed you to make after me[ ]. i have long intended you a long letter, which perhaps the imagination of its length hindered me from beginning. i will, therefore, content myself with a shorter. 'having promoted the institution of a new club in the neighbourhood, at the house of an old servant of thrale's, i went thither to meet the company, and was seized with a spasmodick asthma so violent, that with difficulty i got to my own house, in which i have been confined eight or nine weeks, and from which i know not when i shall be able to go even to church. the asthma, however, is not the worst. a dropsy gains ground upon me; my legs and thighs are very much swollen with water, which i should be content if i could keep there, but i am afraid that it will soon be higher. my nights are very sleepless and very tedious. and yet i am extremely afraid of dying. 'my physicians try to make me hope, that much of my malady is the effect of cold, and that some degree at least of recovery is to be expected from vernal breezes and summer suns[ ]. if my life is prolonged to autumn, i should be glad to try a warmer climate; though how to travel with a diseased body, without a companion to conduct me, and with very little money, i do not well see. ramsay has recovered his limbs in italy[ ]; and fielding was sent to lisbon, where, indeed, he died; but he was, i believe, past hope when he went. think for me what i can do. 'i received your pamphlet, and when i write again may perhaps tell you some opinion about it; but you will forgive a man struggling with disease his neglect of disputes, politicks, and pamphlets[ ]. let me have your prayers. my compliments to your lady, and young ones. ask your physicians about my case: and desire sir alexander dick[ ] to write me his opinion. 'i am, dear sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'my dearest love, 'i have been extremely ill of an asthma and dropsy, but received, by the mercy of god, sudden and unexpected relief last thursday, by the discharge of twenty pints of water[ ]. whether i shall continue free, or shall fill again, cannot be told. pray for me. 'death, my dear, is very dreadful; let us think nothing worth our care but how to prepare for it: what we know amiss in ourselves let us make haste to amend, and put our trust in the mercy of god, and the intercession of our saviour. i am, dear madam, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'feb. , .' to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have just advanced so far towards recovery as to read a pamphlet; and you may reasonably suppose that the first pamphlet which i read was yours. i am very much of your opinion, and, like you, feel great indignation at the indecency with which the king is every day treated. your paper contains very considerable knowledge of history and of the constitution, very properly produced and applied. it will certainly raise your character[ ], though perhaps it may not make you a minister of state. 'i desire you to see mrs. stewart once again, and tell her, that in the letter-case was a letter relating to me, for which i will give her, if she is willing to give it me, another guinea[ ]. the letter is of consequence only to me. 'i am, dear sir, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, feb. , .' in consequence of johnson's request that i should ask our physicians about his case, and desire sir alexander dick to send his opinion, i transmitted him a letter from that very amiable baronet, then in his eighty-first year, with his faculties as entire as ever; and mentioned his expressions to me in the note accompanying it: 'with my most affectionate wishes for dr. johnson's recovery, in which his friends, his country, and all mankind have so deep a stake:' and at the same time a full opinion upon his case by dr. gillespie, who, like dr. cullen, had the advantage of having passed through the gradations of surgery and pharmacy, and by study and practice had attained to such skill, that my father settled on him two hundred pounds a year for five years, and fifty pounds a year during his life, as an _honorarium_ to secure his particular attendance. the opinion was conveyed in a letter to me, beginning, 'i am sincerely sorry for the bad state of health your very learned and illustrious friend, dr. johnson, labours under at present.' 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'presently after i had sent away my last letter, i received your kind medical packet. i am very much obliged both to you and your physicians for your kind attention to my disease. dr. gillespie has sent me an excellent _consilium medicum_, all solid practical experimental knowledge. i am at present, in the opinion of my physicians, (dr. heberden and dr. brocklesby,) as well as my own, going on very hopefully. i have just begun to take vinegar of squills. the powder hurt my stomach so much, that it could not be continued. 'return sir alexander dick my sincere thanks for his kind letter; and bring with you the rhubarb[ ] which he so tenderly offers me. 'i hope dear mrs. boswell is now quite well, and that no evil, either real or imaginary, now disturbs you. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' i also applied to three of the eminent physicians who had chairs in our celebrated school of medicine at edinburgh, doctors cullen, hope, and monro, to each of whom i sent the following letter:-- 'dear sir, 'dr. johnson has been very ill for some time; and in a letter of anxious apprehension he writes to me, "ask your physicians about my case." 'this, you see, is not authority for a regular consultation: but i have no doubt of your readiness to give your advice to a man so eminent, and who, in his _life of garth_, has paid your profession a just and elegant compliment: "i believe every man has found in physicians great liberality and dignity of sentiment, very prompt effusions[ ] of beneficence, and willingness to exert a lucrative art, where there is no hope of lucre." 'dr. johnson is aged seventy-four. last summer he had a stroke of the palsy, from which he recovered almost entirely. he had, before that, been troubled with a catarrhous cough. this winter he was seized with a spasmodick asthma, by which he has been confined to his house for about three months. dr. brocklesby writes to me, that upon the least admission of cold, there is such a constriction upon his breast, that he cannot lie down in his bed, but is obliged to sit up all night, and gets rest and sometimes sleep, only by means of laudanum and syrup of poppies; and that there are oedematous tumours on his legs and thighs. dr. brocklesby trusts a good deal to the return of mild weather. dr. johnson says, that a dropsy gains ground upon him; and he seems to think that a warmer climate would do him good. i understand he is now rather better, and is using vinegar of squills. i am, with great esteem, dear sir, 'your most obedient humble servant, 'james boswell.' 'march , .' all of them paid the most polite attention to my letter, and its venerable object. dr. cullen's words concerning him were, 'it would give me the greatest pleasure to be of any service to a man whom the publick properly esteem, and whom i esteem and respect as much as i do dr. johnson.' dr. hope's, 'few people have a better claim on me than your friend, as hardly a day passes that i do not ask his opinion about this or that word.' dr. monro's, 'i most sincerely join you in sympathizing with that very worthy and ingenious character, from whom his country has derived much instruction and entertainment.' dr. hope corresponded with his friend dr. brocklesby. doctors cullen and monro wrote their opinions and prescriptions to me, which i afterwards carried with me to london, and, so far as they were encouraging, communicated to johnson. the liberality on one hand, and grateful sense of it on the other, i have great satisfaction in recording. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i am too much pleased with the attention which you and your dear lady[ ] show to my welfare, not to be diligent in letting you know the progress which i make towards health. the dropsy, by god's blessing, has now run almost totally away by natural evacuation; and the asthma, if not irritated by cold, gives me little trouble. while i am writing this, i have not any sensation of debility or disease. but i do not yet venture out, having been confined to the house from the thirteenth of december, now a quarter of a year. 'when it will be fit for me to travel as far as auchinleck, i am not able to guess; but such a letter as mrs. boswell's might draw any man, not wholly motionless, a great way. pray tell the dear lady how much her civility and kindness have touched and gratified me. 'our parliamentary tumults have now begun to subside, and the king's authority is in some measure re-established[ ]. mr. pitt will have great power: but you must remember, that what he has to give must, at least for some time, be given to those who gave, and those who preserve, his power. a new minister can sacrifice little to esteem or friendship; he must, till he is settled, think only of extending his interest. * * * * * 'if you come hither through edinburgh, send for mrs. stewart, and give from me another guinea for the letter in the old case, to which i shall not be satisfied with my claim, till she gives it me. 'please to bring with you baxter's _anacreon_[ ]; and if you procure heads of _hector boece_[ ], the historian, and _arthur johnston_[ ], the poet, i will put them in my room[ ]; or any other of the fathers of scottish literature. 'i wish you an easy and happy journey, and hope i need not tell you that you will be welcome to, dear sir, 'your most affectionate, humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' i wrote to him, march , from york, informing him that i had a high gratification in the triumph of monarchical principles over aristocratical influence, in that great country, in an address to the king[ ]; that i was thus far on my way to him, but that news of the dissolution of parliament having arrived, i was to hasten back to my own county, where i had carried an address to his majesty by a great majority, and had some intention of being a candidate to represent the county in parliament. 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'you could do nothing so proper as to haste back when you found the parliament dissolved. with the influence which your address must have gained you, it may reasonably be expected that your presence will be of importance, and your activity of effect. 'your solicitude for me gives me that pleasure which every man feels from the kindness of such a friend: and it is with delight i relieve it by telling, that dr. brocklesby's account is true, and that i am, by the blessing of god, wonderfully relieved. 'you are entering upon a transaction which requires much prudence. you must endeavour to oppose without exasperating; to practise temporary hostility, without producing enemies for life. this is, perhaps, hard to be done; yet it has been done by many, and seems most likely to be effected by opposing merely upon general principles, without descending to personal or particular censures or objections. one thing i must enjoin you, which is seldom observed in the conduct of elections;--i must entreat you to be scrupulous in the use of strong liquors. one night's drunkenness may defeat the labours of forty days well employed. be firm, but not clamorous; be active, but not malicious; and you may form such an interest, as may not only exalt yourself, but dignify your family. 'we are, as you may suppose, all busy here. mr. fox resolutely stands for westminster, and his friends say will carry the election[ ]. however that be, he will certainly have a seat[ ]. mr. hoole has just told me, that the city leans towards the king. 'let me hear, from time to time, how you are employed, and what progress you make. 'make dear mrs. boswell, and all the young boswells, the sincere compliments of, sir, your affectionate humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'london, march , .' to mr. langton he wrote with that cordiality which was suitable to the long friendship which had subsisted between him and that gentleman[ ]. march . 'since you left me, i have continued in my own opinion, and in dr, brocklesby's, to grow better with respect to all my formidable and dangerous distempers: though to a body battered and shaken as mine has lately been, it is to be feared that weak attacks may be sometimes mischievous. i have, indeed, by standing carelessly at an open window, got a very troublesome cough, which it has been necessary to appease by opium, in larger quantities than i like to take, and i have not found it give way so readily as i expected; its obstinacy, however, seems at last disposed to submit to the remedy, and i know not whether i should then have a right to complain of any morbid sensation. my asthma is, i am afraid, constitutional and incurable; but it is only occasional, and unless it be excited by labour or by cold, gives me no molestation, nor does it lay very close siege to life; for sir john floyer[ ], whom the physical race consider as authour of one of the best books upon it, panted on to ninety, as was supposed; and why were we content with supposing a fact so interesting, of a man so conspicuous? because he corrupted, at perhaps seventy or eighty, the register, that he might pass for younger than he was. he was not much less than eighty, when to a man of rank who modestly asked his age, he answered, "go look;" though he was in general a man of civility and elegance. 'the ladies, i find, are at your house all well, except miss langton, who will probably soon recover her health by light suppers. let her eat at dinner as she will, but not take a full stomach to bed. pay my sincere respects to dear miss langton in lincolnshire, let her know that i mean not to break our league of friendship, and that i have a set of _lives_ for her, when i have the means of sending it.' april . 'i am still disturbed by my cough; but what thanks have i not to pay, when my cough is the most painful sensation that i feel? and from that i expect hardly to be released, while winter continues to gripe us with so much pertinacity. the year has now advanced eighteen days beyond the equinox, and still there is very little remission of the cold. when warm weather comes, which surely must come at last, i hope it will help both me and your young lady. 'the man so busy about addresses is neither more nor less than our own boswell, who had come as far as york towards london, but turned back on the dissolution, and is said now to stand for some place. whether to wish him success, his best friends hesitate. 'let me have your prayers for the completion of my recovery: i am now better than i ever expected to have been. may god add to his mercies the grace that may enable me to use them according to his will. my compliments to all.' april . 'i had this evening a note from lord portmore[ ], desiring that i would give you an account of my health. you might have had it with less circumduction. i am, by god's blessing, i believe, free from all morbid sensations, except a cough, which is only troublesome. but i am still weak, and can have no great hope of strength till the weather shall be softer. the summer, if it be kindly, will, i hope, enable me to support the winter. god, who has so wonderfully restored me, can preserve me in all seasons. 'let me enquire in my turn after the state of your family, great and little. i hope lady rothes and miss langton are both well. that is a good basis of content. then how goes george on with his studies? how does miss mary? and how does my own jenny? i think i owe jenny a letter, which i will take care to pay. in the mean time tell her that i acknowledge the debt. 'be pleased to make my compliments to the ladies. if mrs. langton comes to london, she will favour me with a visit, for i am not well enough to go out.' 'to ozias humphry[ ], esq. 'sir, 'mr. hoole has told me with what benevolence you listened to a request which i was almost afraid to make, of leave to a young painter[ ] to attend you from time to time in your painting-room, to see your operations, and receive your instructions[ ]. 'the young man has perhaps good parts, but has been without a regular education. he is my god-son, and therefore i interest myself in his progress and success, and shall think myself much favoured if i receive from you a permission to send him. 'my health is, by god's blessing, much restored, but i am not yet allowed by my physicians to go abroad; nor, indeed, do i think myself yet able to endure the weather. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' to the same. 'sir, 'the bearer is my god-son, whom i take the liberty of recommending to your kindness; which i hope he will deserve by his respect to your excellence, and his gratitude for your favours. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'april , .' to the same. 'sir, 'i am very much obliged by your civilities to my god-son, but must beg of you to add to them the favour of permitting him to see you paint, that he may know how a picture is begun, advanced and completed. 'if he may attend you in a few of your operations, i hope he will shew that the benefit has been properly conferred, both by his proficiency and his gratitude. at least i shall consider you as enlarging your kindness to, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' 'to the reverend dr. taylor, ashbourne, derbyshire. 'dear sir, 'what can be the reason that i hear nothing from you? i hope nothing disables you from writing. what i have seen, and what i have felt, gives me reason to fear every thing. do not omit giving me the comfort of knowing, that after all my losses i have yet a friend left. 'i want every comfort. my life is very solitary and very cheerless. though it has pleased god wonderfully to deliver me from the dropsy, i am yet very weak, and have not passed the door since the th of december[ ]. i hope for some help from warm weather, which will surely come in time. 'i could not have the consent of the physicians to go to church yesterday; i therefore received the holy sacrament at home, in the room where i communicated with dear mrs. williams, a little before her death. o! my friend, the approach of death is very dreadful. i am afraid to think on that which i know i cannot avoid. it is vain to look round and round for that help which cannot be had. yet we hope and hope, and fancy that he who has lived to-day may live to-morrow. but let us learn to derive our hope only from god. 'in the mean time, let us be kind to one another. i have no friend now living but you and mr. hector, that was the friend of my youth. do not neglect, dear sir, 'yours affectionately, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'london, easter-monday, april , .' what follows is a beautiful specimen of his gentleness and complacency to a young lady his god-child, one of the daughters of his friend mr. langton, then i think in her seventh year. he took the trouble to write it in a large round hand, nearly resembling printed characters, that she might have the satisfaction of reading it herself. the original lies before me, but shall be faithfully restored to her; and i dare say will be preserved by her as a jewel as long as she lives[ ]. 'to miss jane langton, in rochester, kent. 'my dearest miss jenny, 'i am sorry that your pretty letter has been so long without being answered; but, when i am not pretty well, i do not always write plain enough for young ladies. i am glad, my dear, to see that you write so well, and hope that you mind your pen, your book, and your needle, for they are all necessary. your books will give you knowledge, and make you respected; and your needle will find you useful employment when you do not care to read. when you are a little older, i hope you will be very diligent in learning arithmetick[ ], and, above all, that through your whole life you will carefully say your prayers, and read your bible. 'i am, my dear, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'may , .' on wednesday, may , i arrived in london, and next morning had the pleasure to find dr. johnson greatly recovered. i but just saw him; for a coach was waiting to carry him to islington, to the house of his friend the reverend mr. strahan, where he went sometimes for the benefit of good air, which, notwithstanding his having formerly laughed at the general opinion upon the subject, he now acknowledged was conducive to health. one morning afterwards, when i found him alone, he communicated to me, with solemn earnestness, a very remarkable circumstance which had happened in the course of his illness, when he was much distressed by the dropsy. he had shut himself up, and employed a day in particular exercises of religion,--fasting, humiliation, and prayer. on a sudden he obtained extraordinary relief, for which he looked up to heaven with grateful devotion. he made no direct inference from this fact; but from his manner of telling it, i could perceive that it appeared to him as something more than an incident in the common course of events[ ]. for my own part, i have no difficulty to avow that cast of thinking, which by many modern pretenders to wisdom is called _superstitious_. but here i think even men of dry rationality may believe, that there was an intermediate[ ] interposition of divine providence, and that 'the fervent prayer of this righteous man[ ]' availed[ ]. on sunday, may , i found colonel valiancy, the celebrated antiquarian and engineer of ireland, with him. on monday, the th, i dined with him at mr. paradise's, where was a large company; mr. bryant, mr. joddrel, mr. hawkins browne, &c. on thursday, the th, i dined with him at mr. joddrel's, with another large company; the bishop of exeter, lord monboddo[ ], mr. murphy, &c. on saturday, may [ ], i dined with him at dr. brocklesby's, where were colonel vallancy, mr. murphy, and that ever-cheerful companion mr. devaynes, apothecary to his majesty. of these days, and others on which i saw him, i have no memorials, except the general recollection of his being able and animated in conversation, and appearing to relish society as much as the youngest man. i find only these three small particulars:--when a person was mentioned, who said, 'i have lived fifty-one years in this world without having had ten minutes of uneasiness;' he exclaimed, 'the man who says so, lies: he attempts to impose on human credulity.' the bishop of exeter in vain observed, that men were very different. his lordship's manner was not impressive, and i learnt afterwards that johnson did not find out that the person who talked to him was a prelate; if he had, i doubt not that he would have treated him with more respect; for once talking of george psalmanazar[ ], whom he reverenced for his piety, he said, 'i should as soon think of contradicting a bishop[ ].' one of the company[ ] provoked him greatly by doing what he could least of all bear, which was quoting something of his own writing, against what he then maintained. 'what, sir, (cried the gentleman,) do you say to "the busy day, the peaceful night, unfelt, uncounted, glided by[ ]?"'-- johnson finding himself thus presented as giving an instance of a man who had lived without uneasiness, was much offended, for he looked upon such a quotation as unfair. his anger burst out in an unjustifiable retort, insinuating that the gentleman's remark was a sally of ebriety; 'sir, there is one passion i would advise you to command: when you have drunk out that glass, don't drink another[ ].' here was exemplified what goldsmith said of him, with the aid of a very witty image from one of cibber's comedies: 'there is no arguing with johnson; for if his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it[ ].' another was this: when a gentleman[ ] of eminence in the literary world was violently censured for attacking people by anonymous paragraphs in newspapers; he, from the spirit of contradiction as i thought, took up his defence, and said, 'come, come, this is not so terrible a crime; he means only to vex them a little. i do not say that i should do it; but there is a great difference between him and me; what is fit for hephaestion is not fit for alexander.' another, when i told him that a young and handsome countess had said to me, 'i should think that to be praised by dr. johnson would make one a fool all one's life;' and that i answered, 'madam, i shall make him a fool to-day, by repeating this to him,' he said, 'i am too old to be made a fool; but if you say i am made a fool, i shall not deny it. i am much pleased with a compliment, especially from a pretty woman.' on the evening of saturday, may , he was in fine spirits, at our essex-head club. he told us, 'i dined yesterday at mrs. garrick's, with mrs. carter[ ], miss hannah more, and miss fanny burney. three such women are not to be found: i know not where i could find a fourth, except mrs. lennox, who is superiour to them all[ ].' boswell. 'what! had you them all to yourself, sir?' johnson. 'i had them all as much as they were had; but it might have been better had there been more company there.' boswell. 'might not mrs. montagu have been a fourth?' johnson. 'sir, mrs. montagu does not make a trade of her wit; but mrs. montagu is a very extraordinary woman; she has a constant stream of conversation, and it is always impregnated; it has always meaning[ ].' boswell. 'mr. burke has a constant stream of conversation.' johnson. 'yes, sir; if a man were to go by chance at the same time with burke under a shed, to shun a shower, he would say--"this is an extraordinary man." if burke should go into a stable to see his horse drest, the ostler would say--we have had an extraordinary man here[ ].' boswell. 'foote was a man who never failed in conversation. if he had gone into a stable--' johnson. 'sir, if he had gone into a stable, the ostler would have said, here has been a comical fellow; but he would not have respected him.' boswell. 'and, sir, the ostler would have answered him, would have given him as good as he brought, as the common saying is.' johnson. 'yes, sir; and foote would have answered the ostler.--when burke does not descend to be merry, his conversation is very superiour indeed. there is no proportion between the powers which he shews in serious talk and in jocularity. when he lets himself down to that, he is in the kennel[ ].' i have in another place[ ] opposed, and i hope with success, dr. johnson's very singular and erroneous notion as to mr. burke's pleasantry. mr. windham now said low to me, that he differed from our great friend in this observation; for that mr. burke was often very happy in his merriment. it would not have been right for either of us to have contradicted johnson at this time, in a society all of whom did not know and value mr. burke as much as we did. it might have occasioned something more rough, and at any rate would probably have checked the flow of johnson's good-humour. he called to us with a sudden air of exultation, as the thought started into his mind, 'o! gentlemen, i must tell you a very great thing. the empress of russia has ordered the _rambler_ to be translated into the russian language[ ]: so i shall be read on the banks of the wolga. horace boasts that his fame would extend as far as the banks of the rhone[ ]; now the wolga is farther from me than the rhone was from horace.' boswell. 'you must certainly be pleased with this, sir.' johnson. 'i am pleased sir, to be sure. a man is pleased to find he has succeeded in that which he has endeavoured to do.' one of the company mentioned his having seen a noble person driving in his carriage, and looking exceedingly well, notwithstanding his great age. johnson. 'ah, sir; that is nothing. bacon observes, that a stout healthy old man is like a tower undermined.' on sunday, may , i found him alone; he talked of mrs. thrale with much concern, saying, 'sir, she has done every thing wrong, since thrale's bridle was off her neck;' and was proceeding to mention some circumstances which have since been the subject of publick discussion[ ], when he was interrupted by the arrival of dr. douglas, now bishop of salisbury. dr. douglas, upon this occasion, refuted a mistaken notion which is very common in scotland, that the ecclesiastical discipline of the church of england, though duly enforced, is insufficient to preserve the morals of the clergy, inasmuch as all delinquents may be screened by appealing to the convocation, which being never authorized by the king to sit for the dispatch of business, the appeal never can be heard. dr. douglas observed, that this was founded upon ignorance; for that the bishops have sufficient power to maintain discipline, and that the sitting of the convocation was wholly immaterial in this respect, it being not a court of judicature, but like a parliament, to make canons and regulations as times may require. johnson, talking of the fear of death, said, 'some people are not afraid, because they look upon salvation as the effect of an absolute decree, and think they feel in themselves the marks of sanctification. others, and those the most rational in my opinion, look upon salvation as conditional; and as they never can be sure that they have complied with the conditions, they are afraid[ ].' in one of his little manuscript diaries, about this time, i find a short notice, which marks his amiable disposition more certainly than a thousand studied declarations.--'afternoon spent cheerfully and elegantly, i hope without offence to god or man; though in no holy duty, yet in the general exercise and cultivation of benevolence.' on monday, may , i dined with him at mr. dilly's, where were colonel valiancy, the reverend dr. gibbons[ ], and mr. capel lofft, who, though a most zealous whig, has a mind so full of learning and knowledge, and so much exercised in various departments, and withal so much liberality, that the stupendous powers of the literary goliath, though they did not frighten this little david of popular spirit, could not but excite his admiration[ ]. there was also mr. braithwaite of the post-office, that amiable and friendly man, who, with modest and unassuming manners, has associated with many of the wits of the age. johnson was very quiescent to-day. perhaps too i was indolent. i find nothing more of him in my notes, but that when i mentioned that i had seen in the king's library sixty-three editions of my favourite _thomas à kempis_, amongst which it was in eight languages, latin, german, french, italian, spanish, english, arabick, and armenian, he said, he thought it unnecessary to collect many editions of a book, which were all the same, except as to the paper and print; he would have the original, and all the translations, and all the editions which had any variations in the text. he approved of the famous collection of editions of _horace_ by douglas, mentioned by pope[ ], who is said to have had a closet filled with them; and he added, 'every man should try to collect one book in that manner, and present it to a publick library.' on tuesday, may , i saw him for a short time in the morning. i told him that the mob had called out, as the king passed[ ], 'no fox--no fox,' which i did not like. he said, 'they were right, sir.' i said, i thought not; for it seemed to be making mr. fox the king's competitor[ ]. there being no audience, so that there could be no triumph in a victory, he fairly agreed with me[ ]. i said it might do very well, if explained thus:--'let us have no fox;' understanding it as a prayer to his majesty not to appoint that gentleman minister. on wednesday, may , i sat a part of the evening with him, by ourselves. i observed, that the death of our friends might be a consolation against the fear of our own dissolution, because we might have more friends in the other world than in this. he perhaps felt this as a reflection upon his apprehension as to death; and said, with heat, 'how can a man know _where_ his departed friends are, or whether they will be his friends in the other world[ ]? how many friendships have you known formed upon principles of virtue? most friendships are formed by caprice or by chance, mere confederacies in vice or leagues in folly.' we talked of our worthy friend mr. langton. he said, 'i know not who will go to heaven if langton does not. sir, i could almost say, _sit anima mea cum langtono_' i mentioned a very eminent friend[ ] a virtuous man. johnson. 'yes, sir; but ---- has not the evangelical virtue of langton. ----, i am afraid, would not scruple to pick up a wench.' he however charged mr. langton with what he thought want of judgement upon an interesting occasion. 'when i was ill, (said he) i desired he would tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty. sir, he brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts of scripture, recommending christian charity. and when i questioned him what occasion i had given for such an animadversion, all that he could say amounted to this,--that i sometimes contradicted people in conversation. now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' boswell. 'i suppose he meant the _manner_ of doing it; roughly,--and harshly.' johnson. 'and who is the worse for that?' boswell. 'it hurts people of weak nerves.' johnson. 'i know no such weak-nerved people[ ].' mr. burke, to whom i related this conference, said, 'it is well, if when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience than having been a little rough in conversation.' johnson, at the time when the paper was presented to him, though at first pleased with the attention of his friend, whom he thanked in an earnest manner, soon exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, 'what is your drift, sir?' sir joshua reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a scene for a comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and belabour his confessor[ ]. i have preserved no more of his conversation at the times when i saw him during the rest of this month, till sunday, the th of may, when i met him in the evening at mr. hoole's, where there was a large company both of ladies and gentlemen; sir james johnston[ ] happened to say, that he paid no regard to the arguments of counsel at the bar of the house of commons, because they were paid for speaking. 'johnson. 'nay, sir, argument is argument. you cannot help paying regard to their arguments, if they are good. if it were testimony, you might disregard it, if you knew that it were purchased. there is a beautiful image in bacon[ ] upon this subject: testimony is like an arrow shot from a long bow; the force of it depends on the strength of the hand that draws it. argument is like an arrow from a cross-bow, which has equal force though shot by a child.' he had dined that day at mr. hoole's, and miss helen maria williams being expected in the evening, mr. hoole put into his hands her beautiful _ode on the peace_[ ]: johnson read it over, and when this elegant and accomplished young lady[ ] was presented to him, he took her by the hand in the most courteous manner, and repeated the finest stanza of her poem; this was the most delicate and pleasing compliment he could pay. her respectable friend, dr. kippis, from whom i had this anecdote, was standing by, and was not a little gratified. miss williams told me, that the only other time she was fortunate enough to be in dr. johnson's company, he asked her to sit down by him, which she did, and upon her enquiring how he was, he answered, 'i am very ill indeed, madam. i am very ill even when you are near me; what should i be were you at a distance?'[ ] he had now a great desire to go to oxford, as his first jaunt after his illness; we talked of it for some days, and i had promised to accompany him. he was impatient, and fretful to-night, because i did not at once agree to go with him on thursday. when i considered how ill he had been, and what allowance should be made for the influence of sickness upon his temper, i resolved to indulge him, though with some inconvenience to myself, as i wished to attend the musical meeting in honour of handel[ ], in westminster-abbey, on the following saturday. in the midst of his own diseases and pains, he was ever compassionate to the distresses of others, and actively earnest in procuring them aid, as appears from a note to sir joshua reynolds, of june, in these words:--'i am ashamed to ask for some relief for a poor man, to whom, i hope, i have given what i can be expected to spare. the man importunes me, and the blow goes round. i am going to try another air on thursday.' on thursday, june , the oxford post-coach took us up in the morning at bolt-court. the other two passengers were mrs. beresford and her daughter, two very agreeable ladies from america; they were going to worcestershire, where they then resided. frank had been sent by his master the day before to take places for us; and i found, from the way-bill, that dr. johnson had made our names be put down. mrs. beresford, who had read it, whispered me, 'is this the great dr. johnson?' i told her it was; so she was then prepared to listen. as she soon happened to mention in a voice so low that johnson did not hear it, that her husband had been a member of the american congress, i cautioned her to beware of introducing that subject, as she must know how very violent johnson was against the people of that country. he talked a great deal, but i am sorry i have preserved little of the conversation. miss beresford was so much charmed, that she said to me aside, 'how he does talk! every sentence is an essay.' she amused herself in the coach with knotting; he would scarcely allow this species of employment any merit. 'next to mere idleness (said he) i think knotting is to be reckoned in the scale of insignificance; though i once attempted to learn knotting. dempster's sister (looking to me) endeavoured to teach me it; but i made no progress[ ].' i was surprised at his talking without reserve in the publick post-coach of the state of his affairs; 'i have (said he) about the world i think above a thousand pounds, which i intend shall afford frank an annuity of seventy pounds a year.' indeed his openness with people at a first interview was remarkable. he said once to mr. langton, 'i think i am like squire richard in _the journey to london, "i'm never strange in a strange place_[ ]."' he was truly _social_. he strongly censured what is much too common in england among persons of condition,--maintaining an absolute silence, when unknown to each other; as for instance, when occasionally brought together in a room before the master or mistress of the house has appeared. 'sir, that is being so uncivilised as not to understand the common rights of humanity[ ].' at the inn where we stopped he was exceedingly dissatisfied with some roast mutton which we had for dinner. the ladies i saw wondered to see the great philosopher, whose wisdom and wit they had been admiring all the way, get into ill-humour from such a cause. he scolded the waiter, saying, 'it is as bad as bad can be: it is ill-fed, ill-killed, ill-kept, and ill-drest[ ].' he bore the journey very well, and seemed to feel himself elevated as he approached oxford, that magnificent and venerable seat of learning, orthodoxy, and toryism. frank came in the heavy coach, in readiness to attend him; and we were received with the most polite hospitality at the house of his old friend dr. adams, master of pembroke college, who had given us a kind invitation. before we were set down, i communicated to johnson, my having engaged to return to london directly, for the reason i have mentioned, but that i would hasten back to him again. he was pleased that i had made this journey merely to keep him company. he was easy and placid, with dr. adams, mrs. and miss adams, and mrs. kennicot, widow of the learned hebraean[ ], who was here on a visit. he soon dispatched the inquiries which were made about his illness and recovery, by a short and distinct narrative; and then assuming a gay air, repeated from swift,-- 'nor think on our approaching ills, and talk of spectacles and pills[ ].' dr. newton, the bishop of bristol, having been mentioned, johnson, recollecting the manner in which he had been censured by that prelate[ ], thus retaliated:-' tom knew he should be dead before what he has said of me would appear. he durst not have printed it while he was alive.' dr. adams. 'i believe his _dissertations on the prophecies_ is his great work.' johnson. 'why, sir, it is tom's great work; but how far it is great, or how much of it is tom's, are other questions. i fancy a considerable part of it was borrowed.' dr. adams. 'he was a very successful man.' johnson. 'i don't think so, sir. he did not get very high. he was late in getting what he did get; and he did not get it by the best means. i believe he was a gross flatterer[ ].' i fulfilled my intention by going to london, and returned to oxford on wednesday the th of june, when i was happy to find myself again in the same agreeable circle at pembroke college, with the comfortable prospect of making some stay. johnson welcomed my return with more than ordinary glee. he talked with great regard of the honourable archibald campbell, whose character he had given at the duke of argyll's table, when we were at inverary[ ]; and at this time wrote out for me, in his own hand, a fuller account of that learned and venerable writer, which i have published in its proper place. johnson made a remark this evening which struck me a good deal. 'i never (said he) knew a non-juror who could reason[ ].' surely he did not mean to deny that faculty to many of their writers; to hickes, brett[ ], and other eminent divines of that persuasion; and did not recollect that the seven bishops, so justly celebrated for their magnanimous resistance of arbitrary power, were yet nonjurors to the new government[ ]. the nonjuring clergy of scotland, indeed, who, excepting a few, have lately, by a sudden stroke, cut off all ties of allegiance to the house of stuart, and resolved to pray for our present lawful sovereign by name, may be thought to have confirmed this remark; as it may be said, that the divine indefeasible hereditary right which they professed to believe, if ever true, must be equally true still. many of my readers will be surprized when i mention, that johnson assured me he had never in his life been in a nonjuring meeting-house[ ]. next morning at breakfast, he pointed out a passage in savage's _wanderer_, saying, 'these are fine verses.' 'if (said he) i had written with hostility of warburton in my _shakspeare_, i should have quoted this couplet:-- "here learning, blinded first and then beguil'd, looks dark as ignorance, as fancy wild[ ]." you see they'd have fitted him to a _t_,' (smiling.) dr. adams. 'but you did not write against warburton.' johnson. 'no, sir, i treated him with great respect both in my preface and in my notes[ ].' mrs. kennicot spoke of her brother, the reverend mr. chamberlayne, who had given up great prospects in the church of england on his conversion to the roman catholick faith. johnson, who warmly admired every man who acted from a conscientious regard to principle, erroneous or not, exclaimed fervently, 'god bless him.' mrs. kennicot, in confirmation of dr. johnson's opinion[ ], that the present was not worse than former ages, mentioned that her brother assured her, there was now less infidelity on the continent than there had been; voltaire and rousseau were less read. i asserted, from good authority, that hume's infidelity was certainly less read. johnson. 'all infidel writers drop into oblivion, when personal connections and the floridness of novelty are gone; though now and then a foolish fellow, who thinks he can be witty upon them, may bring them again into notice. there will sometimes start up a college joker, who does not consider that what is a joke in a college will not do in the world. to such defenders of religion i would apply a stanza of a poem which i remember to have seen in some old collection:-- "henceforth be quiet and agree, each kiss his empty brother; religion scorns a foe like thee, but dreads a friend like t'other." the point is well, though the expression is not correct; _one_, and not _thee, should be opposed to _t'other_[ ].' on the roman catholick religion he said, 'if you join the papists externally, they will not interrogate you strictly as to your belief in their tenets. no reasoning papist believes every article of their faith. there is one side on which a good man might be persuaded to embrace it. a good man of a timorous disposition, in great doubt of his acceptance with god, and pretty credulous, might be glad to be of a church where there, are so many helps to get to heaven. i would be a papist if i could. i have fear enough; but an obstinate rationality prevents me. i shall never be a papist, unless on the near approach of death, of which i have a very great terrour. i wonder that women are not all papists.' boswell. 'they are not more afraid of death than men are.' johnson. 'because they are less wicked.' dr. adams. 'they are more pious.' johnson. 'no, hang 'em, they are not more pious. a wicked fellow is the most pious when he takes to it. he'll beat you all at piety.' he argued in defence of some of the peculiar tenets of the church of rome. as to the giving the bread only to the laity, he said, 'they may think, that in what is merely ritual, deviations from the primitive mode may be admitted on the ground of convenience, and i think they are as well warranted to make this alteration, as we are to substitute sprinkling in the room of the ancient baptism.' as to the invocation of saints[ ], he said, 'though i do not think it authorised, it appears to me, that "the communion of saints" in the creed means the communion with the saints in heaven, as connected with "the holy catholick church[ ]."' he admitted the influence of evil spirits[ ] upon our minds, and said, 'nobody who believes the new testament can deny it.' i brought a volume of dr. hurd the bishop of worcester's _sermons_, and read to the company some passages from one of them, upon this text, '_resist the devil, and he will fly[ ] from you.' james_, iv. . i was happy to produce so judicious and elegant a supporter[ ] of a doctrine, which, i know not why, should, in this world of imperfect knowledge, and, therefore, of wonder and mystery in a thousand instances, be contested by some with an unthinking assurance and flippancy. after dinner, when one of us talked of there being a great enmity between whig and tory;--johnson. 'why not so much, i think, unless when they come into competition with each other. there is none when they are only common acquaintance, none when they are of different sexes. a tory will marry into a whig family, and a whig into a tory family, without any reluctance. but indeed, in a matter of much more concern than political tenets, and that is religion, men and women do not concern themselves much about difference of opinion; and ladies set no value on the moral character of men who pay their addresses to them; the greatest profligate will be as well received as the man of the greatest virtue, and this by a very good woman, by a woman who says her prayers three times a day.' our ladies endeavoured to defend their sex from this charge; but he roared them down! 'no, no, a lady will take jonathan wild as readily as st. austin, if he has three-pence more; and, what is worse, her parents will give her to him. women have a perpetual envy of our vices; they are less vicious than we, not from choice, but because we restrict them; they are the slaves of order and fashion; their virtue is of more consequence to us than our own, so far as concerns this world.' miss adams mentioned a gentleman of licentious character, and said, 'suppose i had a mind to marry that gentleman, would my parents consent?' johnson. 'yes, they'd consent, and you'd go. you'd go though they did not consent.' miss adams. 'perhaps their opposing might make me go.' johnson. 'o, very well; you'd take one whom you think a bad man, to have the pleasure of vexing your parents. you put me in mind of dr. barrowby[ ], the physician, who was very fond of swine's flesh. one day, when he was eating it, he said, 'i wish i was a jew.' 'why so? (said somebody); the jews are not allowed to eat your favourite meat.' 'because, (said he,) i should then have the gust of eating it, with the pleasure of sinning.' johnson then proceeded in his declamation. miss adams soon afterwards made an observation that i do not recollect, which pleased him much: he said with a good-humoured smile, 'that there should be so much excellence united with so much _depravity_, is strange.' indeed, this lady's good qualities, merit, and accomplishments, and her constant attention to dr. johnson, were not lost upon him. she happened to tell him that a little coffee-pot, in which she had made his coffee, was the only thing she could call her own. he turned to her with a complacent gallantry, 'don't say so, my dear; i hope you don't reckon my heart as nothing.' i asked him if it was true as reported, that he had said lately, 'i am for the king against fox; but i am for fox against pitt.' johnson. 'yes, sir; the king is my master; but i do not know pitt; and fox is my friend[ ].' 'fox, (added he,) is a most extraordinary man; here is a man (describing him in strong terms of objection in some respects according as he apprehended, but which exalted his abilities the more) who has divided the kingdom with caesar[ ]; so that it, was a doubt whether the nation should be ruled by the sceptre of george the third, or the tongue of fox.' dr. wall, physician at oxford, drank tea with us. johnson had in general a peculiar pleasure in the company of physicians, which was certainly not abated by the conversation of this learned, ingenious, and pleasing gentleman. johnson said, 'it is wonderful how little good radcliffe's travelling fellowships[ ] have done. i know nothing that has been imported by them; yet many additions to our medical knowledge might be got in foreign countries. inoculation, for instance, has saved more lives than war destroys[ ]: and the cures performed by the peruvian-bark are innumerable. but it is in vain to send our travelling physicians to france, and italy, and germany, for all that is known there is known here; i'd send them out of christendom; i'd send them among barbarous nations.' on friday, june , we talked at breakfast, of forms of prayer. johnson. 'i know of no good prayers but those in the _book of common prayer_.' dr. adams, (in a very earnest manner): 'i wish, sir, you would compose some family prayers.' johnson. 'i will not compose prayers for you, sir, because you can do it for yourself. but i have thought of getting together all the books of prayers which i could, selecting those which should appear to me the best, putting out some, inserting others, adding some prayers of my own, and prefixing a discourse on prayer.' we all now gathered about him, and two or three of us at a time joined in pressing him to execute this plan. he seemed to be a little displeased at the manner of our importunity, and in great agitation called out, 'do not talk thus of what is so aweful. i know not what time god will allow me in this world. there are many things which i wish to do.' some of us persisted, and dr. adams said, 'i never was more serious about any thing in my life.' johnson. 'let me alone, let me alone; i am overpowered.' and then he put his hands before his face, and reclined for some time upon the table[ ]. i mentioned jeremy taylor's using, in his forms of prayer, 'i am the chief of sinners,' and other such self-condemning expressions[ ]. 'now, (said i) this cannot be said with truth by every man, and therefore is improper for a general printed form. i myself cannot say that i am the worst of men; i _will_ not say so.' johnson. 'a man may know, that physically, that is, in the real state of things, he is not the worst man; but that morally he may be so. law observes that "every man knows something worse of himself, than he is sure of in others[ ]." you may not have committed such crimes as some men have done; but you do not know against what degree of light they have sinned. besides, sir, "the chief of sinners" is a mode of expression for "i am a great sinner." so st. paul, speaking of our saviour's having died to save sinners, says, "of whom i am the chief[ ];" yet he certainly did not think himself so bad as judas iscariot.' boswell. 'but, sir, taylor means it literally, for he founds a conceit upon it. when praying for the conversion of sinners, and of himself in particular, he says, "lord, thou wilt not leave thy _chief_ work undone." johnson. 'i do not approve of figurative expressions in addressing the supreme being; and i never use them[ ]. taylor gives a very good advice: "never lie in your prayers; never confess more than you really believe; never promise more than you mean to perform[ ]." i recollected this precept in his _golden grove_; but his _example_ for prayer contradicts his _precept_.' dr. johnson and i went in dr. adams's coach to dine with dr. nowell, principal of st. mary hall, at his beautiful villa at iffley, on the banks of the isis, about two miles from oxford. while we were upon the road, i had the resolution to ask johnson whether he thought that the roughness of his manner had been an advantage or not, and if he would not have done more good if he had been more gentle. i proceeded to answer myself thus: 'perhaps it has been of advantage, as it has given weight to what you said: you could not, perhaps, have talked with such authority without it.' johnson. 'no, sir; i have done more good as i am. obscenity and impiety have always been repressed in my company[ ].' boswell. 'true, sir; and that is more than can be said of every bishop. greater liberties have been taken in the presence of a bishop, though a very good man, from his being milder, and therefore not commanding such awe. yet, sir, many people who might have been benefited by your conversation, have been frightened away. a worthy friend of ours[ ] has told me, that he has often been afraid to talk to you.' johnson. 'sir, he need not have been afraid, if he had any thing rational to say. if he had not, it was better he did not talk[ ]. dr. nowell is celebrated for having preached a sermon before the house of commons, on the oth of january, , full of high tory sentiments, for which he was thanked as usual, and printed it at their request; but, in the midst of that turbulence and faction which disgraced a part of the present reign, the thanks were afterwards ordered to be expunged[ ]. this strange conduct sufficiently exposes itself; and dr. nowell will ever have the honour which is due to a lofty friend of our monarchical constitution. dr. johnson said to me, 'sir, the court will be very much to blame, if he is not promoted.' i told this to dr. nowell, and asserting my humbler, though not less zealous exertions in the same cause, i suggested that whatever return we might receive, we should still have the consolation of being like butler's steady and generous royalist, 'true as the dial to the sun, although it be not shone upon[ ].' we were well entertained and very happy at dr. nowell's, where was a very agreeable company, and we drank 'church and king' after dinner, with true tory cordiality. we talked of a certain clergyman[ ] of extraordinary character, who by exerting his talents in writing on temporary topicks, and displaying uncommon intrepidity, had raised himself to affluence. i maintained that we ought not to be indignant at his success; for merit of every sort was entitled to reward. johnson. 'sir, i will not allow this man to have merit. no, sir; what he has is rather the contrary; i will, indeed, allow him courage, and on this account we so far give him credit. we have more respect for a man who robs boldly on the highway, than for a fellow who jumps out of a ditch, and knocks you down behind your back. courage is a quality so necessary for maintaining virtue, that it is always respected, even when it is associated with vice[ ]. i censured the coarse invectives which were become fashionable in the house of commons[ ], and said that if members of parliament must attack each other personally in the heat of debate, it should be done more genteely. johnson. 'no, sir; that would be much worse. abuse is not so dangerous when there is no vehicle of wit or delicacy, no subtle conveyance. the difference between coarse and refined abuse is as the difference between being bruised by a club, and wounded by a poisoned arrow.' i have since observed his position elegantly expressed by dr. young:-- 'as the soft plume gives swiftness to the dart, good breeding sends the satire to the heart[ ].' on saturday, june , there drank tea with us at dr. adams's, mr. john henderson, student of pembroke-college, celebrated for his wonderful acquirements in alchymy, judicial astrology, and other abstruse and curious learning[ ]; and the reverend herbert croft, who, i am afraid, was somewhat mortified by dr. johnson's not being highly pleased with some _family discourses_, which he had printed; they were in too familiar a style to be approved of by so manly a mind. i have no note of this evening's conversation, except a single fragment. when i mentioned thomas lord lyttelton's vision[ ], the prediction of the time of his death, and its exact fulfilment;--johnson. 'it is the most extraordinary thing that has happened in my day. i heard it with my own ears, from his uncle, lord westcote. i am so glad to have every evidence of the spiritual world, that i am willing to believe it.' dr. adams. 'you have evidence enough; good evidence, which needs not such support.' johnson. 'i like to have more[ ].' mr. henderson, with whom i had sauntered in the venerable walks of merton-college, and found him a very learned and pious man, supped with us. dr. johnson surprised him not a little, by acknowledging with a look of horrour, that he was much oppressed by the fear of death[ ]. the amiable dr. adams suggested that god was infinitely good. johnson. 'that he is infinitely good, as far as the perfection of his nature will allow, i certainly believe; but it is necessary for good upon the whole, that individuals should be punished. as to an _individual_, therefore, he is not infinitely good; and as i cannot be _sure_ that i have fulfilled the conditions on which salvation is granted, i am afraid i may be one of those who shall be damned.' (looking dismally.) dr. adams. 'what do you mean by damned?' johnson. (passionately and loudly) 'sent to hell, sir, and punished everlastingly[ ].' dr. adams. 'i don't believe that doctrine.' johnson. 'hold, sir, do you believe that some will be punished at all?' dr. adams. 'being excluded from heaven will be a punishment; yet there may be no great positive suffering.' johnson. 'well, sir; but, if you admit any degree of punishment, there is an end of your argument for infinite goodness simply considered; for, infinite goodness would inflict no punishment whatever. there is not infinite goodness physically considered; morally there is.' boswell. 'but may not a man attain to such a degree of hope as not to be uneasy from the fear of death?' johnson. 'a man may have such a degree of hope as to keep him quiet. you see i am not quiet, from the vehemence with which i talk; but i do not despair.' mrs. adams. 'you seem, sir, to forget the merits of our redeemer.' johnson. 'madam, i do not forget the merits of my redeemer; but my redeemer has said that he will set some on his right hand and some on his left.' he was in gloomy agitation, and said, 'i'll have no more on't[ ].' if what has now been stated should be urged by the enemies of christianity, as if its influence on the mind were not benignant, let it be remembered, that johnson's temperament was melancholy, of which such direful apprehensions of futurity are often a common effect. we shall presently see that when he approached nearer to his aweful change, his mind became tranquil, and he exhibited as much fortitude as becomes a thinking man in that situation. from the subject of death we passed to discourse of life, whether it was upon the whole more happy or miserable. johnson was decidedly for the balance of misery[ ]: in confirmation of which i maintained, that no man would choose to lead over again the life which he had experienced. johnson acceded to that opinion in the strongest terms[ ]. this is an inquiry often made; and its being a subject of disquisition is a proof that much misery presses upon human feelings; for those who are conscious of a felicity of existence, would never hesitate to accept of a repetition of it. i have met with very few who would. i have heard mr. burke make use of a very ingenious and plausible argument on this subject;--'every man (said he) would lead his life over again; for, every man is willing to go on and take an addition to his life, which, as he grows older, he has no reason to think will be better, or even so good as what has preceded.' i imagine, however, the truth is, that there is a deceitful hope that the next part of life will be free from the pains, and anxieties, and sorrows, which we have already felt[ ]. we are for wise purposes 'condemn'd to hope's delusive mine;' as johnson finely says[ ]; and i may also quote the celebrated lines of dryden, equally philosophical and poetical:-- 'when i consider life, 'tis all a cheat, yet fool'd with hope, men favour the deceit: trust on, and think to-morrow will repay; to-morrow's falser than the former day; lies worse; and while it says we shall be blest with some new joys, cuts off what we possest. strange cozenage! none would live past years again; yet all hope pleasure in what yet remain; and from the dregs of life think to receive, what the first sprightly running could not give[ ].' it was observed to dr. johnson, that it seemed strange that he, who has so often delighted his company by his lively and brilliant conversation, should say he was miserable. johnson. 'alas! it is all outside; i may be cracking my joke[ ], and cursing the sun. _sun, how i hate thy beams_[ ]!' i knew not well what to think of this declaration; whether to hold it as a genuine picture of his mind[ ], or as the effect of his persuading himself contrary to fact, that the position which he had assumed as to human unhappiness, was true. we may apply to him a sentence in mr. greville's[ ] _maxims, characters, and reflections_[ ]; a book which is entitled to much more praise than it has received: 'aristarchus is charming: how full of knowledge, of sense, of sentiment. you get him with difficulty to your supper; and after having delighted every body and himself for a few hours, he is obliged to return home;--he is finishing his treatise, to prove that unhappiness is the portion of man[ ].' on sunday, june , our philosopher was calm at breakfast. there was something exceedingly pleasing in our leading a college life, without restraint, and with superiour elegance, in consequence of our living in the master's house, and having the company of ladies. mrs. kennicot related, in his presence, a lively saying of dr. johnson to miss hannah more, who had expressed a wonder that the poet who had written _paradise lost_ should write such poor sonnets:--' milton, madam, was a genius that could cut a colossus from a rock; but could not carve heads upon cherry-stones[ ].' we talked of the casuistical question, whether it was allowable at any time to depart from _truth_? johnson. 'the general rule is, that truth should never be violated, because it is of the utmost importance to the comfort of life, that we should have a full security by mutual faith; and occasional inconveniences should be willingly suffered that we may preserve it. there must, however, be some exceptions. if, for instance, a murderer should ask you which way a man is gone, you may tell him what is not true, because you are under a previous obligation not to betray a man to a murderer[ ].' boswell. 'supposing the person who wrote _junius_ were asked whether he was the authour, might he deny it?' johnson. 'i don't know what to say to this. if you were _sure_ that he wrote _junius_, would you, if he denied it, think as well of him afterwards? yet it may be urged, that what a man has no right to ask, you may refuse to communicate[ ]; and there is no other effectual mode of preserving a secret and an important secret, the discovery of which may be very hurtful to you, but a flat denial; for if you are silent, or hesitate, or evade, it will be held equivalent to a confession. but stay, sir; here is another case. supposing the authour had told me confidentially that he had written _junius_, and i were asked if he had, i should hold myself at liberty to deny it, as being under a previous promise, express or implied, to conceal it. now what i ought to do for the authour, may i not do for myself? but i deny the lawfulness of telling a lie to a sick man for fear of alarming him. you have no business with consequences; you are to tell the truth. besides, you are not sure what effect your telling him that he is in danger may have. it may bring his distemper to a crisis, and that may cure him. of all lying, i have the greatest abhorrence of this, because i believe it has been frequently practised on myself.' i cannot help thinking that there is much weight in the opinion of those who have held, that truth, as an eternal and immutable principle, ought, upon no account whatever, to be violated, from supposed previous or superiour obligations, of which every man being to judge for himself, there is great danger that we too often, from partial motives, persuade ourselves that they exist; and probably whatever extraordinary instances may sometimes occur, where some evil may be prevented by violating this noble principle, it would be found that human happiness would, upon the whole, be more perfect were truth universally preserved. in the notes to the _dunciad_[ ], we find the following verses, addressed to pope[ ]:-- 'while malice, pope, denies thy page its own celestial fire; while criticks, and while bards in rage admiring, won't admire: while wayward pens thy worth assail, and envious tongues decry; these times, though many a friend bewail, these times bewail not i. but when the world's loud praise is thine, and spleen no more shall blame; when with thy homer thou shalt shine in one establish'd fame! when none shall rail, and every lay devote a wreath to thee: that day (for come it will) that day shall i lament to see.' it is surely not a little remarkable, that they should appear without a name. miss seward[ ], knowing dr. johnson's almost universal and minute literary information, signified a desire that i should ask him who was the authour. he was prompt with his answer: 'why, sir, they were written by one lewis, who was either under-master or an usher of westminster-school, and published a miscellany, in which _grongar hill_[ ] first came out[ ].' johnson praised them highly, and repeated them with a noble animation. in the twelfth line, instead of 'one establish'd fame,' he repeated 'one unclouded flame,' which he thought was the reading in former editions: but i believe was a flash of his own genius. it is much more poetical than the other. on monday, june , and tuesday, , dr. johnson and i dined, on one of them, i forget which, with mr. mickle, translator of the _lusiad_, at wheatley, a very pretty country place a few miles from oxford; and on the other with dr. wetherell, master of university-college. from dr. wetherell's he went to visit mr. sackville parker, the bookseller; and when he returned to us, gave the following account of his visit, saying, 'i have been to see my old friend, sack. parker; i find he has married his maid; he has done right. she had lived with him many years in great confidence, and they had mingled minds; i do not think he could have found any wife that would have made him so happy. the woman was very attentive and civil to me; she pressed me to fix a day for dining with them, and to say what i liked, and she would be sure to get it for me. poor sack! he is very ill, indeed. we parted as never to meet again. it has quite broke me down.' this pathetic narrative was strangely diversified with the grave and earnest defence of a man's having married his maid. i could not but feel it as in some degree ludicrous. in the morning of tuesday, june , while we sat at dr. adams's, we talked of a printed letter from the reverend herbert croft[ ], to a young gentleman who had been his pupil, in which he advised him to read to the end of whatever books he should begin to read. johnson. 'this is surely a strange advice; you may as well resolve that whatever men you happen to get acquainted with, you are to keep to them for life. a book may be good for nothing; or there may be only one thing in it worth knowing; are we to read it all through[ ]? these voyages, (pointing to the three large volumes of _voyages to the south sea_[ ], which were just come out) _who_ will read them through? a man had better work his way before the mast, than read them through; they will be eaten by rats and mice, before they are read through. there can be little entertainment in such books; one set of savages is like another.' boswell. 'i do not think the people of otaheité can be reckoned savages.' johnson. 'don't cant in defence of savages[ ].' boswell. 'they have the art of navigation.' johnson. 'a dog or a cat can swim.' boswell. 'they carve very ingeniously.' johnson. 'a cat can scratch, and a child with a nail can scratch.' i perceived this was none of the _mollia tempora fandi_[ ]; so desisted. upon his mentioning that when he came to college he wrote his first exercise twice over; but never did so afterwards[ ]; miss adams. 'i suppose, sir, you could not make them better?' johnson. 'yes, madam, to be sure, i could make them better. thought is better than no thought.' miss adams. 'do you think, sir, you could make your _ramblers_ better?' johnson. 'certainly i could.' boswell. 'i'll lay a bet, sir, you cannot.' johnson. 'but i will, sir, if i choose. i shall make the best of them you shall pick out, better.' boswell. 'but you may add to them. i will not allow of that.' johnson. 'nay, sir, there are three ways of making them better;--putting out,--adding,--or correcting[ ].' during our visit at oxford, the following conversation passed between him and me on the subject of my trying my fortune at the english bar[ ]: having asked whether a very extensive acquaintance in london, which was very valuable, and of great advantage to a man at large, might not be prejudicial to a lawyer, by preventing him from giving sufficient attention to his business;--johnson. 'sir, you will attend to business, as business lays hold of you. when not actually employed, you may see your friends as much as you do now. you may dine at a club every day, and sup with one of the members every night; and you may be as much at publick places as one who has seen them all would wish to be. but you must take care to attend constantly in westminster-hall; both to mind your business, as it is almost all learnt there, (for nobody reads now;) and to shew that you want to have business[ ]. and you must not be too often seen at publick places, that competitors may not have it to say, 'he is always at the playhouse or at ranelagh, and never to be found at his chambers.' and, sir, there must be a kind of solemnity in the manner of a professional man. i have nothing particular to say to you on the subject. all this i should say to any one; i should have said it to lord thurlow twenty years ago.' the profession may probably think this representation of what is required in a barrister who would hope for success, to be by much too indulgent; but certain it is, that as 'the wits of charles found easier ways to fame[ ],' some of the lawyers of this age who have risen high, have by no means thought it absolutely necessary to submit to that long and painful course of study which a plowden, a coke, and a hale considered as requisite. my respected friend, mr. langton, has shewn me in the hand-writing of his grandfather[ ], a curious account of a conversation which he had with lord chief justice hale, in which that great man tells him, 'that for two years after he came to the inn of court, he studied sixteen hours a day; however (his lordship added) that by this intense application he almost brought himself to his grave, though he were of a very strong constitution, and after reduced himself to eight hours; but that he would not advise any body to so much; that he thought six hours a day, with attention and constancy, was sufficient; that a man must use his body as he would his horse, and his stomach; not tire him at once, but rise with an appetite.[ ]' on wednesday, june [ ], dr. johnson and i returned to london; he was not well to-day, and said very little, employing himself chiefly in reading euripides. he expressed some displeasure at me, for not observing sufficiently the various objects upon the road. 'if i had your eyes, sir, (said he) i should count the passengers.' it was wonderful how accurate his observation of visual objects was, notwithstanding his imperfect eyesight, owing to a habit of attention[ ]. that he was much satisfied with the respect paid to him at dr. adams's is thus attested by himself: 'i returned last night from oxford, after a fortnight's abode with dr. adams, who treated me as well as i could expect or wish; and he that contents a sick man, a man whom it is impossible to please, has surely done his part well[ ].' after his return to london from this excursion, i saw him frequently, but have few memorandums: i shall therefore here insert some particulars which i collected at various times. the reverend mr. astle, of ashbourne, in derbyshire, brother to the learned and ingenious thomas astle[ ], esq., was from his early years known to dr. johnson, who obligingly advised him as to his studies, and recommended to him the following books, of which a list which he has been pleased to communicate, lies before me in johnson's own hand-writing:-- _universal history (ancient.)--rollin's ancient history.--puffendorf's introduction to history.--vertot's history of knights of malta.-- vertot's revolution of portugal.--vertot's revolutions of sweden.-- carte's history of england.--present state of england.--geographical grammar.--prideaux's connection.--nelson's feasts and fasts.--duty of man.--gentleman's religion.--clarendon's history.--watts's improvement of the mind.--watts's logick.--nature displayed.--lowth's english grammar.--blackwall on the classicks.--sherlock's sermons.--burnet's life of hale.--dupin's history of the church.--shuckford's connection.--law's serious call.--walton's complete angler.--sandys's travels.--sprat's history of the royal society.--england's gazetteer.--goldsmith's roman history.--some commentaries on the. bible_[ ]. it having been mentioned to dr. johnson that a gentleman who had a son whom he imagined to have an extreme degree of timidity, resolved to send him to a publick school, that he might acquire confidence;--' sir, (said johnson,) this is a preposterous expedient for removing his infirmity; such a disposition should be cultivated in the shade. placing him at a publick school is forcing an owl upon day[ ].' speaking of a gentleman whose house was much frequented by low company; 'rags, sir, (said he,) will always make their appearance where they have a right to do it.' of the same gentleman's mode of living, he said, 'sir, the servants, instead of doing what they are bid, stand round the table in idle clusters, gaping upon the guests; and seem as unfit to attend a company, as to steer a man of war[ ].' a dull country magistrate[ ] gave johnson a long tedious account of his exercising his criminal jurisdiction, the result of which was his having sentenced four convicts to transportation. johnson, in an agony of impatience to get rid of such a companion, exclaimed, 'i heartily wish, sir, that i were a fifth.' johnson was present when a tragedy was read, in which there occurred this line:-- 'who rules o'er freemen should himself be free[ ].' the company having admired it much, 'i cannot agree with you (said johnson:) it might as well be said,-- 'who drives fat oxen should himself be fat.' he was pleased with the kindness of mr. cator, who was joined with him in mr. thrale's important trust, and thus describes him[ ]:--'there is much good in his character, and much usefulness in his knowledge.' he found a cordial solace at that gentleman's seat at beckenham, in kent, which is indeed one of the finest places at which i ever was a guest; and where i find more and more a hospitable welcome. johnson seldom encouraged general censure of any profession[ ]; but he was willing to allow a due share of merit to the various departments necessary in civilised life. in a splenetick, sarcastical, or jocular frame, however, he would sometimes utter a pointed saying of that nature. one instance has been mentioned[ ], where he gave a sudden satirical stroke to the character of an _attorney_. the too indiscriminate admission to that employment, which requires both abilities and integrity, has given rise to injurious reflections, which are totally inapplicable to many very respectable men who exercise it with reputation and honour. johnson having argued for some time with a pertinacious gentleman; his opponent, who had talked in a very puzzling manner, happened to say, 'i don't understand you, sir:' upon which johnson observed, 'sir, i have found you an argument; but i am not obliged to find you an understanding[ ].' talking to me of horry walpole, (as horace late earl of orford was often called[ ],) johnson allowed that he got together a great many curious little things, and told them in an elegant manner[ ]. mr. walpole thought johnson a more amiable character after reading his _letters to mrs. thrale_: but never was one of the true admirers of that great man[ ]. we may suppose a prejudice conceived, if he ever heard johnson's account to sir george staunton[ ], that when he made the speeches in parliament for the _gentleman's magazine_, 'he always took care to put sir robert walpole in the wrong, and to say every thing he could against the electorate of hanover[ ].' the celebrated _heroick epistle_, in which johnson is satyrically introduced, has been ascribed both to mr. walpole and mr. mason. one day at mr. courtenay's, when a gentleman expressed his opinion that there was more energy in that poem than could be expected from mr. walpole; mr. warton, the late laureat, observed, 'it may have been written by walpole, and _buckram'd_ by mason[ ].' he disapproved of lord hailes, for having modernised the language of the ever-memorable john hales of eton[ ], in an edition which his lordship published of that writer's works. 'an authour's language, sir, (said he,) is a characteristical part of his composition, and is also characteristical of the age in which he writes. besides, sir, when the language is changed we are not sure that the sense is the same. no, sir; i am sorry lord hailes has done this.' here it may be observed, that his frequent use of the expression, _no, sir_, was not always to intimate contradiction; for he would say so, when he was about to enforce an affirmative proposition which had not been denied, as in the instance last mentioned. i used to consider it as a kind of flag of defiance; as if he had said, 'any argument you may offer against this, is not just. no, sir, it is not.' it was like falstaff's 'i deny your major[ ].' sir joshua reynolds having said that he took the altitude of a man's taste by his stories and his wit, and of his understanding by the remarks which he repeated; being always sure that he must be a weak man who quotes common things with an emphasis as if they were oracles; johnson agreed with him; and sir joshua having also observed that the real character of a man was found out by his amusements,--johnson added, 'yes, sir; no man is a hypocrite in his pleasures[ ].' i have mentioned johnson's general aversion to a pun[ ]. he once, however, endured one of mine. when we were talking of a numerous company in which he had distinguished himself highly, i said, 'sir, you were a cod surrounded by smelts. is not this enough for you? at a time too when you were not _fishing_ for a compliment?' he laughed at this with a complacent approbation. old mr. sheridan observed, upon my mentioning it to him, 'he liked your compliment so well, he was willing to take it with _pun sauce_.' for my own part, i think no innocent species of wit or pleasantry should be suppressed; and that a good pun may be admitted among the smaller excellencies of lively conversation. had johnson treated at large _de claris oratoribus_[ ], he might have given us an admirable work. when the duke of bedford attacked the ministry as vehemently as he could, for having taken upon them to extend the time for the importation of corn[ ], lord chatham, in his first speech in the house of lords, boldly avowed himself to be an adviser of that measure. 'my colleagues, (said he,) as i was confined by indisposition, did me the signal honour of coming to the bed-side of a sick man, to ask his opinion. but, had they not thus condescended, i should have _taken up my bed and walked_, in order to have delivered that opinion at the council-board.' mr. langton, who was present, mentioned this to johnson, who observed, 'now, sir, we see that he took these words as he found them; without considering, that though the expression in scripture, _take up thy bed and walk_[ ], strictly suited the instance of the sick man restored to health and strength, who would of course be supposed to carry his bed with him, it could not be proper in the case of a man who was lying in a state of feebleness, and who certainly would not add to the difficulty of moving at all, that of carrying his bed.' when i pointed out to him in the newspaper one of mr. grattan's animated and glowing speeches, in favour of the freedom of ireland, in which this expression occurred (i know not if accurately taken): 'we will persevere, till there is not one link of the english chain left to clank upon the rags of the meanest beggar in ireland;' 'nay, sir, (said johnson,) don't you perceive that _one_ link cannot clank?' mrs. thrale has published[ ], as johnson's, a kind of parody or counterpart of a fine poetical passage in one of mr. burke's speeches on american taxation. it is vigorously but somewhat coarsely executed; and i am inclined to suppose, is not quite correctly exhibited. i hope he did not use the words _'vile agents'_ for the americans in the house of parliament; and if he did so, in an extempore effusion, i wish the lady had not committed it to writing[ ]. mr. burke uniformly shewed johnson the greatest respect; and when mr. townshend, now lord sydney, at a period when he was conspicuous in opposition, threw out some reflection in parliament upon the grant of a pension to a man of such political principles as johnson; mr. burke, though then of the same party with mr. townshend, stood warmly forth in defence of his friend, to whom, he justly observed, the pension was granted solely on account of his eminent literary merit. i am well assured, that mr. townshend's attack upon johnson was the occasion of his 'hitching in a rhyme[ ];' for, that in the original copy of goldsmith's character of mr. burke, in his _retaliation_, another person's name stood in the couplet where mr. townshend is now introduced[ ]:-- 'though fraught with all learning kept[ ] straining his throat, to persuade _tommy townshend_ to lend him a vote.' it may be worth remarking, among the _minutiae_ of my collection, that johnson was once drawn to serve in the militia, the trained bands of the city of london, and that mr. rackstrow, of the museum in fleet-street, was his colonel. it may be believed he did not serve in person; but the idea, with all its circumstances, is certainly laughable. he upon that occasion provided himself with a musket, and with a sword and belt, which i have seen hanging in his closet. he was very constant to those whom he once employed, if they gave him no reason to be displeased. when somebody talked of being imposed on in the purchase of tea and sugar, and such articles: 'that will not be the case, (said he,) if you go to a _stately shop_, as i always do. in such a shop it is not worth their while to take a petty advantage.' an authour of most anxious and restless vanity being mentioned, 'sir, (said he,) there is not a young sapling upon parnassus more severely blown about by every wind of criticism than that poor fellow.' the difference, he observed, between a well-bred and an ill-bred man is this: 'one immediately attracts your liking, the other your aversion. you love the one till you find reason to hate him; you hate the other till you find reason to love him.' the wife of one of his acquaintance had fraudulently made a purse for herself out of her husband's fortune. feeling a proper compunction in her last moments, she confessed how much she had secreted; but before she could tell where it was placed, she was seized with a convulsive fit and expired. her husband said, he was more hurt by her want of confidence in him, than by the loss of his money. 'i told him, (said johnson,) that he should console himself: for _perhaps_ the money might be _found_, and he was _sure_ that his wife was gone.' a foppish physician once reminded johnson of his having been in company with him on a former occasion; 'i do not remember it, sir.' the physician still insisted; adding that he that day wore so fine a coat that it must have attracted his notice. 'sir, (said johnson,) had you been dipt in pactolus[ ] i should not have noticed you.' he seemed to take a pleasure in speaking in his own style; for when he had carelessly missed it, he would repeat the thought translated into it[ ]. talking of the comedy of _the rehearsal_[ ], he said, 'it has not wit enough to keep it sweet.' this was easy; he therefore caught himself, and pronounced a more round sentence; 'it has not vitality enough to preserve it from putrefaction.' he censured a writer of entertaining travels[ ] for assuming a feigned character, saying, (in his sense of the word[ ],) 'he carries out one lye; we know not how many he brings back.'[ ] at another time, talking of the same person, he observed, 'sir, your assent to a man whom you have never known to falsify, is a debt: but after you have known a man to falsify, your assent to him then is a favour.' though he had no taste for painting, he admired much the manner in which sir joshua reynolds treated of his art, in his _discourses to the royal academy_[ ]. he observed one day of a passage in them, 'i think i might as well have said this myself: 'and once when mr. langton was sitting by him, he read one of them very eagerly, and expressed himself thus:--'very well, master reynolds; very well, indeed. but it will not be understood.' when i observed to him that painting was so far inferiour to poetry, that the story or even emblem which it communicates must be previously known, and mentioned as a natural and laughable instance of this, that a little miss on seeing a picture of justice with the scales, had exclaimed to me, 'see, there's a woman selling sweetmeats;' he said, 'painting, sir, can illustrate, but cannot inform.' no man was more ready to make an apology when he had censured unjustly, than johnson[ ]. when a proof-sheet of one of his works was brought to him, he found fault with the mode in which a part of it was arranged, refused to read it, and in a passion[ ] desired that the compositor[ ] might be sent to him. the compositor was mr. manning, a decent sensible man, who had composed about one half of his _dictionary_, when in mr. strahan's printing-house; and a great part of his _lives of the poets_, when in that of mr. nichols; and who (in his seventy-seventh year), when in mr. baldwin's printing-house, composed a part of the first edition of this work concerning him. by producing the manuscript, he at once satisfied dr. johnson that he was not to blame. upon which johnson candidly and earnestly said to him, 'mr. compositor, i ask your pardon. mr. compositor, i ask your pardon, again and again.' his generous humanity to the miserable was almost beyond example. the following instance is well attested:--coming home late one night, he found a poor woman lying in the street, so much exhausted that she could not walk; he took her upon his back, and carried her to his house, where he discovered that she was one of those wretched females who had fallen into the lowest state of vice, poverty, and disease. instead of harshly upbraiding her, he had her taken care of with all tenderness for a long time, at considerable expence, till she was restored to health, and endeavoured to put her into a virtuous way of living[ ]. he thought mr. caleb whitefoord singularly happy in hitting on the signature of _papyrius cursor_, to his ingenious and diverting cross-readings of the newspapers; it being a real name of an ancient roman, and clearly expressive of the thing done in this lively conceit[ ]. he once in his life was known to have uttered what is called a _bull_: sir joshua reynolds, when they were riding together in devonshire, complained that he had a very bad horse, for that even when going down hill he moved slowly step by step. 'ay (said johnson,) and when he _goes_ up hill, he _stands still_.' he had a great aversion to gesticulating in company. he called once to a gentleman who offended him in that point, 'don't _attitudenise_.' and when another gentleman thought he was giving additional force to what he uttered, by expressive movements of his hands, johnson fairly seized them, and held them down[ ]. an authour of considerable eminence[ ] having engrossed a good share of the conversation in the company of johnson, and having said nothing but what was trifling and insignificant; johnson when he was gone, observed to us, 'it is wonderful what a difference there sometimes is between a man's powers of writing and of talking. ---- writes with great spirit, but is a poor talker; had he held his tongue we might have supposed him to have been restrained by modesty; but he has spoken a great deal to-day; and you have heard what stuff it was.' a gentleman having said that a _congé d'élire_[ ] has not, perhaps, the force of a command, but may be considered only as a strong recommendation; 'sir, (replied johnson, who overheard him,) it is such a recommendation, as if i should throw you out of a two-pair of stairs window, and recommend to you to fall soft[ ].' mr. steevens, who passed many a social hour with him during their long acquaintance, which commenced when they both lived in the temple, has preserved a good number of particulars concerning him, most of which are to be found in the department of apothegms, &c. in the collection of _johnson's works_[ ]. but he has been pleased to favour me with the following, which are original:-- 'one evening, previous to the trial of barretti[ ], a consultation of his friends was held at the house of mr. cox, the solicitor, in southampton-buildings, chancery-lane. among others present were, mr. burke and dr. johnson, who differed in sentiments concerning the tendency of some part of the defence the prisoner was to make. when the meeting was over, mr. steevens observed, that the question between him and his friend had been agitated with rather too much warmth. "it may be so, sir, (replied the doctor,) for burke and i should have been of one opinion, if we had had no audience[ ]." 'dr. johnson once assumed a character in which perhaps even mr. boswell never saw him. his curiosity having been excited by the praises bestowed on the celebrated torré's fireworks at marybone-gardens, he desired mr. steevens to accompany him thither. the evening had proved showery; and soon after the few people present were assembled, publick notice was given, that the conductors to the wheels, suns, stars, &c., were so thoroughly water-soaked, that it was impossible any part of the exhibition should be made. "this is a mere excuse, (says the doctor,) to save their crackers for a more profitable company. let us but hold up our sticks, and threaten to break those coloured lamps that surround the orchestra, and we shall soon have our wishes gratified. the core of the fireworks cannot be injured; let the different pieces be touched in their respective centers, and they will do their offices as well as ever." some young men who overheard him, immediately began the violence he had recommended, and an attempt was speedily made to fire some of the wheels which appeared to have received the smallest damage; but to little purpose were they lighted, for most of them completely failed. the authour of _the rambler_, however, may be considered, on this occasion, as the ringleader of a successful riot, though not as a skilful pyrotechnist.' 'it has been supposed that dr. johnson, so far as fashion was concerned, was careless of his appearance in publick. but this is not altogether true, as the following slight instance may show:--goldsmith's last comedy was to be represented during some court-mourning[ ]: and mr. steevens appointed to call on dr. johnson, and carry him to the tavern where he was to dine with others of the poet's friends. the doctor was ready dressed, but in coloured cloaths; yet being told that he would find every one else in black, received the intelligence with a profusion of thanks, hastened to change his attire, all the while repeating his gratitude for the information that had saved him from an appearance so improper in the front row of a front box. "i would not (added he,) for ten pounds, have seemed so retrograde to any general observance[ ]." 'he would sometimes found his dislikes on very slender circumstances. happening one day to mention mr. flexman, a dissenting minister, with some compliment to his exact memory in chronological matters; the doctor replied, "let me hear no more of him, sir. that is the fellow who made the index to my _ramblers_, and set down the name of milton thus: milton, _mr_. john[ ]."' mr. steevens adds this testimony:-- 'it is unfortunate, however, for johnson, that his particularities and frailties can be more distinctly traced than his good and amiable exertions. could the many bounties he studiously concealed, the many acts of humanity he performed in private, be displayed with equal circumstantiality, his defects would be so far lost in the blaze of his virtues, that the latter only would be regarded.' though from my very high admiration of johnson, i have wondered[ ] that he was not courted by all the great and all the eminent persons of his time, it ought fairly to be considered, that no man of humble birth, who lived entirely by literature, in short no authour by profession, ever rose in this country into that personal notice which he did. in the course of this work a numerous variety of names has been mentioned, to which many might be added. i cannot omit lord and lady lucan, at whose house he often enjoyed all that an elegant table and the best company can contribute to happiness; he found hospitality united with extraordinary accomplishments, and embellished with charms of which no man could be insensible[ ]. on tuesday, june , i dined with him at the literary club, the last time of his being in that respectable society. the other members present were the bishop of st. asaph, lord eliot, lord palmerston, dr. fordyce, and mr. malone. he looked ill; but had such a manly fortitude, that he did not trouble the company with melancholy complaints. they all shewed evident marks of kind concern about him, with which he was much pleased, and he exerted himself to be as entertaining as his indisposition allowed him. the anxiety of his friends to preserve so estimable a life, as long as human means might be supposed to have influence, made them plan for him a retreat from the severity of a british winter, to the mild climate of italy[ ]. this scheme was at last brought to a serious resolution at general paoli's, where i had often talked of it. one essential matter, however, i understood was necessary to be previously settled, which was obtaining such an addition to his income, as would be sufficient to enable him to defray the expence in a manner becoming the first literary character of a great nation, and, independent of all his other merits, the authour of the dictionary of the english language. the person to whom i above all others thought i should apply to negociate this business, was the lord chancellor[ ], because i knew that he highly valued johnson, and that johnson highly valued his lordship; so that it was no degradation of my illustrious friend to solicit for him the favour of such a man. i have mentioned[ ] what johnson said of him to me when he was at the bar; and after his lordship was advanced to the seals[ ], he said of him, 'i would prepare myself for no man in england but lord thurlow. when i am to meet with him i should wish to know a day before[ ]'. how he would have prepared himself i cannot conjecture. would he have selected certain topicks, and considered them in every view so as to be in readiness to argue them at all points? and what may we suppose those topicks to have been? i once started the curious enquiry to the great man who was the subject of this compliment: he smiled, but did not pursue it. i first consulted with sir joshua reynolds, who perfectly coincided in opinion with me; and i therefore, though personally very little known to his lordship, wrote to him[ ], stating the case, and requesting his good offices for dr. johnson. i mentioned that i was obliged to set out for scotland early in the following week, so that if his lordship should have any commands for me as to this pious negociation, he would be pleased to send them before that time; otherwise sir joshua reynolds would give all attention to it. this application was made not only without any suggestion on the part of johnson himself, but was utterly unknown to him, nor had he the smallest suspicion of it. any insinuations, therefore, which since his death have been thrown out, as if he had stooped to ask what was superfluous, are without any foundation. but, had he asked it, it would not have been superfluous; for though the money he had saved proved to be more than his friends imagined, or than i believe he himself, in his carelessness concerning worldly matters, knew it to be, had he travelled upon the continent, an augmentation of his income would by no means have been unnecessary. on wednesday, june , i visited him in the morning, after having been present at the shocking sight of fifteen men executed before newgate[ ]. i said to him, i was sure that human life was not machinery, that is to say, a chain of fatality planned and directed by the supreme being, as it had in it so much wickedness and misery, so many instances of both, as that by which my mind was now clouded. were it machinery it would be better than it is in these respects, though less noble, as not being a system of moral government. he agreed with me now, as he always did[ ], upon the great question of the liberty of the human will, which has been in all ages perplexed with so much sophistry. 'but, sir, as to the doctrine of necessity, no man believes it. if a man should give me arguments that i do not see, though i could not answer them, should i believe that i do not see?' it will be observed, that johnson at all times made the just distinction between doctrines _contrary_ to reason, and doctrines _above_ reason. talking of the religious discipline proper for unhappy convicts, he said, 'sir, one of our regular clergy will probably not impress their minds sufficiently: they should be attended by a methodist preacher[ ]; or a popish priest.' let me however observe, in justice to the reverend mr. vilette, who has been ordinary of newgate for no less than eighteen years, in the course of which he has attended many hundreds of wretched criminals, that his earnest and humane exhortations have been very effectual. his extraordinary diligence is highly praiseworthy, and merits a distinguished reward[ ]. on thursday, june , i dined with him at mr. dilly's, where were the rev. mr. (now dr.) knox, master of tunbridge-school, mr. smith, vicar of southill, dr. beattie, mr. pinkerton, authour of various literary performances, and the rev. dr. mayo. at my desire old mr. sheridan was invited, as i was earnest to have johnson and him brought together again by chance, that a reconciliation might be effected. mr. sheridan happened to come early, and having learned that dr. johnson was to be there, went away[ ]; so i found, with sincere regret, that my friendly intentions were hopeless. i recollect nothing that passed this day, except johnson's quickness, who, when dr. beattie observed, as something remarkable which had happened to him, that he had chanced to see both no. , and no. , of the hackney-coaches, the first and the last; 'why, sir, (said johnson,) there is an equal chance for one's seeing those two numbers as any other two.' he was clearly right; yet the seeing of the two extremes, each of which is in some degree more conspicuous than the rest, could not but strike one in a stronger manner than the sight of any other two numbers. though i have neglected to preserve his conversation, it was perhaps at this interview that dr. knox formed the notion of it which he has exhibited in his _winter evenings_[ ]. on friday, june , i dined with him at general paoli's, where, he says in one of his letters to mrs. thrale, 'i love to dine[ ].' there was a variety of dishes much to his taste, of all which he seemed to me to eat so much, that i was afraid he might be hurt by it[ ]; and i whispered to the general my fear, and begged he might not press him. 'alas! (said the general,) see how very ill he looks; he can live but a very short time. would you refuse any slight gratifications to a man under sentence of death? there is a humane custom in italy, by which persons in that melancholy situation are indulged with having whatever they like best to eat and drink, even with expensive delicacies.' i shewed him some verses on lichfield by miss seward, which i had that day received from her, and had the pleasure to hear him approve of them. he confirmed to me the truth of a high compliment which i had been told he had paid to that lady, when she mentioned to him _the colombiade_, an epick poem, by madame du boccage[ ]:--'madam, there is not any thing equal to your description of the sea round the north pole, in your ode on the death of captain cook[ ].' on sunday, june , i found him rather better. i mentioned to him a young man who was going to jamaica with his wife and children, in expectation of being provided for by two of her brothers settled in that island, one a clergyman, and the other a physician. johnson. 'it is a wild scheme, sir, unless he has a positive and deliberate invitation. there was a poor girl, who used to come about me, who had a cousin in barbadoes, that, in a letter to her, expressed a wish she should come out to that island, and expatiated on the comforts and happiness of her situation. the poor girl went out: her cousin was much surprised, and asked her how she could think of coming. "because, (said she,) you invited me." "not i," answered the cousin. the letter was then produced. "i see it is true, (said she,) that i did invite you: but i did not think you would come." they lodged her in an out-house, where she passed her time miserably; and as soon as she had an opportunity she returned to england. always tell this, when you hear of people going abroad to relations, upon a notion of being well received. in the case which you mention, it is probable the clergyman spends all he gets, and the physician does not know how much he is to get.' we this day dined at sir joshua reynolds's, with general paoli, lord eliot, (formerly mr. eliot, of port eliot,) dr. beattie, and some other company. talking of lord chesterfield;--johnson. 'his manner was exquisitely elegant[ ], and he had more knowledge than i expected.' boswell. 'did you find, sir, his conversation to be of a superiour style?' johnson. 'sir, in the conversation which i had with him i had the best right to superiority, for it was upon philology and literature.' lord eliot, who had travelled at the same time with mr. stanhope[ ], lord chesterfield's natural son, justly observed, that it was strange that a man who shewed he had so much affection for his son as lord chesterfield did, by writing so many long and anxious letters to him, almost all of them when he was secretary of state[ ], which certainly was a proof of great goodness of disposition, should endeavour to make his son a rascal. his lordship told us, that foote had intended to bring on the stage a father who had thus tutored his son, and to shew the son an honest man to every one else, but practising his father's maxims upon him, and cheating him[ ]. johnson. 'i am much pleased with this design; but i think there was no occasion to make the son honest at all. no; he should be a consummate rogue: the contrast between honesty and knavery would be the stronger. it should be contrived so that the father should be the only sufferer by the son's villainy, and thus there would be poetical justice.' he put lord eliot in mind of dr. walter harte[ ]. 'i know (said he,) harte was your lordship's tutor, and he was also tutor to the peterborough family. pray, my lord, do you recollect any particulars that he told you of lord peterborough? he is a favourite of mine, and is not enough known; his character has been only ventilated in party pamphlets[ ].' lord eliot said, if dr. johnson would be so good as to ask him any questions, he would tell what he could recollect. accordingly some things were mentioned. 'but, (said his lordship,) the best account of lord peterborough that i have happened to meet with, is in _captain carleton's memoirs_. carleton was descended of an ancestor who had distinguished himself at the siege of derry[ ]. he was an officer; and, what was rare at that time, had some knowledge of engineering[ ].' johnson said, he had never heard of the book. lord eliot had it at port eliot; but, after a good deal of enquiry, procured a copy in london, and sent it to johnson, who told sir joshua reynolds that he was going to bed when it came, but was so much pleased with it, that he sat up till he had read it through[ ], and found in it such an air of truth, that he could not doubt of its authenticity[ ]; adding, with a smile, (in allusion to lord eliot's having recently been raised to the peerage,) 'i did not think a _young lord_ could have mentioned to me a book in the english history that was not known to me[ ].' an addition to our company came after we went up to the drawing-room; dr. johnson seemed to rise in spirits as his audience increased. he said, 'he wished lord orford's pictures[ ], and sir ashton lever's museum[ ], might be purchased by the publick, because both the money, and the pictures, and the curiosities, would remain in the country; whereas, if they were sold into another kingdom, the nation would indeed get some money, but would lose the pictures and curiosities, which it would be desirable we should have, for improvement in taste and natural history. the only question was, as the nation was much in want of money, whether it would not be better to take a large price from a foreign state?' he entered upon a curious discussion of the difference between intuition and sagacity; one being immediate in its effect, the other requiring a circuitous process; one he observed was the _eye_ of the mind, the other the _nose_ of the mind[ ]. a young gentleman[ ] present took up the argument against him, and maintained that no man ever thinks of the _nose of the mind_, not adverting that though that figurative sense seems strange to us, as very unusual, it is truly not more forced than hamlet's 'in my _mind's eye_, horatio[ ].' he persisted much too long, and appeared to johnson as putting himself forward as his antagonist with too much presumption; upon which he called to him in a loud tone, 'what is it you are contending for, if you _be_ contending?' and afterwards imagining that the gentleman retorted upon him with a kind of smart drollery, he said, 'mr. ----, it does not become you to talk so to me. besides, ridicule is not your talent; you have _there_ neither intuition nor sagacity.' the gentleman protested that he had intended no improper freedom, but had the greatest respect for dr. johnson. after a short pause, during which we were somewhat uneasy,--johnson. 'give me your hand, sir. you were too tedious, and i was too short.' mr. ----. 'sir, i am honoured by your attention in any way.' johnson. 'come, sir, let's have no more of it. we offended one another by our contention; let us not offend the company by our compliments.' he now said, 'he wished much to go to italy, and that he dreaded passing the winter in england.' i said nothing; but enjoyed a secret satisfaction in thinking that i had taken the most effectual measures to make such a scheme practicable. on monday, june , i had the honour to receive from the lord chancellor the following letter:-- 'to james boswell, esq. sir, i should have answered your letter immediately, if, (being much engaged when i received it) i had not put it in my pocket, and forgot to open it till this morning. i am much obliged to you for the suggestion; and i will adopt and press it as far as i can. the best argument, i am sure, and i hope it is not likely to fail, is dr. johnson's merit. but it will be necessary, if i should be so unfortunate as to miss seeing you, to converse with sir joshua on the sum it will be proper to ask,--it short, upon the means of setting him out. it would be a reflection on us all, if such a man should perish for want of the means to take care of his health. yours, &c. thurlow.' this letter gave me a very high satisfaction; i next day went and shewed it to sir joshua reynolds, who was exceedingly pleased with it. he thought that i should now communicate the negociation to dr. johnson, who might afterwards complain if the attention with which he had been honoured, should be too long concealed from him. i intended to set out for scotland next morning; but sir joshua cordially insisted that i should stay another day, that johnson and i might dine with him, that we three might talk of his italian tour, and, as sir joshua expressed himself, 'have it all out.' i hastened to johnson, and was told by him that he was rather better to-day. boswell. 'i am very anxious about you, sir, and particularly that you should go to italy for the winter, which i believe is your own wish.' johnson. 'it is, sir.' boswell. 'you have no objection, i presume, but the money it would require.' johnson. 'why, no, sir.' upon which i gave him a particular account of what had been done, and read to him the lord chancellor's letter. he listened with much attention; then warmly said, 'this is taking prodigious pains about a man.' 'o! sir, (said i, with most sincere affection,) your friends would do every thing for you.' he paused, grew more and more agitated, till tears started into his eyes, and he exclaimed with fervent emotion, 'god bless you all.' i was so affected that i also shed tears. after a short silence, he renewed and extended his grateful benediction, 'god bless you all, for jesus christ's sake.' we both remained for some time unable to speak. he rose suddenly and quitted the room, quite melted in tenderness. he staid but a short time, till he had recovered his firmness; soon after he returned i left him, having first engaged him to dine at sir joshua reynolds's, next day. i never was again under that roof which i had so long reverenced. on wednesday, june , the friendly confidential dinner with sir joshua reynolds took place, no other company being present. had i known that this was the last time that i should enjoy in this world, the conversation of a friend whom i so much respected, and from whom i derived so much instruction and entertainment, i should have been deeply affected. when i now look back to it, i am vexed that a single word should have been forgotten. both sir joshua and i were so sanguine in our expectations, that we expatiated with confidence on the liberal provision which we were sure would be made for him, conjecturing whether munificence would be displayed in one large donation, or in an ample increase of his pension. he himself catched so much of our enthusiasm, as to allow himself to suppose it not impossible that our hopes might in one way or other be realised. he said that he would rather have his pension doubled than a grant of a thousand pounds; 'for, (said he,) though probably i may not live to receive as much as a thousand pounds, a man would have the consciousness that he should pass the remainder of his life in splendour, how long soever it might be.' considering what a moderate proportion an income of six hundred pounds a year bears to innumerable fortunes in this country, it is worthy of remark, that a man so truly great should think it splendour[ ]. as an instance of extraordinary liberality of friendship, he told us, that dr. brocklesby had upon this occasion offered him a hundred a year for his life[ ]. a grateful tear started into his eye, as he spoke this in a faultering tone. sir joshua and i endeavoured to flatter his imagination with agreeable prospects of happiness in italy. 'nay, (said he,) i must not expect much of that; when a man goes to italy merely to feel how he breathes the air, he can enjoy very little.' our conversation turned upon living in the country, which johnson, whose melancholy mind required the dissipation of quick successive variety, had habituated himself to consider as a kind of mental imprisonment[ ]. 'yet, sir, (said i,) there are many people who are content to live in the country.' johnson. 'sir, it is in the intellectual world as in the physical world; we are told by natural philosophers that a body is at rest in the place that is fit for it; they who are content to live in the country, are _fit_ for the country.' talking of various enjoyments, i argued that a refinement of taste was a disadvantage, as they who have attained to it must be seldomer pleased than those who have no nice discrimination, and are therefore satisfied with every thing that comes in their way. johnson. 'nay, sir; that is a paltry notion. endeavour to be as perfect as you can in every respect.' i accompanied him in sir joshua reynolds's coach, to the entry of bolt-court. he asked me whether i would not go with him to his house; i declined it, from an apprehension that my spirits would sink. we bade adieu to each other affectionately in the carriage. when he had got down upon the foot-pavement, he called out, 'fare you well;' and without looking back, sprung away with a kind of pathetick briskness, if i may use that expression, which seemed to indicate a struggle to conceal uneasiness, and impressed me with a foreboding of our long, long separation. i remained one day more in town, to have the chance of talking over my negociation with the lord chancellor; but the multiplicity of his lordship's important engagements did not allow of it; so i left the management of the business in the hands of sir joshua reynolds. soon after this time dr. johnson had the mortification of being informed by mrs. thrale, that, 'what she supposed he never believed[ ],' was true; namely, that she was actually going to marry signor piozzi, an italian musick-master[ ]. he endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain. if she would publish the whole of the correspondence that passed between dr. johnson and her on the subject, we should have a full view of his real sentiments. as it is, our judgement must be biassed by that characteristick specimen which sir john hawkins has given us: 'poor thrale! i thought that either her virtue or her vice would have restrained her from such a marriage. she is now become a subject for her enemies to exult over; and for her friends, if she has any left, to forget, or pity[ ].' it must be admitted that johnson derived a considerable portion of happiness from the comforts and elegancies which he enjoyed in mr. thrale's family[ ]; but mrs. thrale assures us he was indebted for these to her husband alone, who certainly respected him sincerely. her words are,-- '_veneration for his virtue, reverence for his talents_, delight _in his conversation, and_ habitual endurance of a yoke my husband first put upon me, _and of which he contentedly bore his share for sixteen or seventeen years, made me go on so long with_ mr. johnson; _but the perpetual confinement i will own to have been_ terrifying _in the first years of our friendship, and_ irksome _in the last; nor could i pretend to support _it without help, when my coadjutor was no more_[ ].' alas! how different is this from the declarations which i have heard mrs. thrale make in his life-time, without a single murmur against any peculiarities, or against any one circumstance which attended their intimacy[ ]. as a sincere friend of the great man whose _life_ i am writing, i think it necessary to guard my readers against the mistaken notion of dr. johnson's character, which this lady's _anecdotes_ of him suggest; for from the very nature and form of her book, 'it lends deception lighter wings to fly'.[ ] 'let it be remembered, (says an eminent critick[ ],) that she has comprised in a small volume all that she could recollect of dr. johnson in _twenty years_, during which period, doubtless, some severe things were said by him; and they who read the book in _two hours_, naturally enough suppose that his whole conversation was of this complexion. but the fact is, i have been often in his company, and never _once_ heard him say a severe thing to any one; and many others can attest the same[ ]. when he did say a severe thing, it was generally extorted by ignorance pretending to knowledge, or by extreme vanity or affectation. 'two instances of inaccuracy, (adds he,) are peculiarly worthy of notice: 'it is said, _"that natural[ ] roughness of his manner so often mentioned, would, notwithstanding the regularity of his notions, burst through them all from time to time; and he once bade a very celebrated lady, who praised him with too much zeal perhaps, or perhaps too strong an emphasis, (which always offended him,) consider what her flattery was worth, before she choaked him with it."_ 'now let the genuine anecdote be contrasted with this. the person thus represented as being harshly treated, though a very celebrated lady[ ], was _then_ just come to london from an obscure situation in the country. at sir joshua reynolds's one evening, she met dr. johnson. she very soon began to pay her court to him in the most fulsome strain. "spare me, i beseech you, dear madam," was his reply. she still _laid it on_. "pray, madam, let us have no more of this;" he rejoined. not paying any attention to these warnings, she continued still her eulogy. at length, provoked by this indelicate and vain obtrusion of compliment, he exclaimed, "dearest lady, consider with yourself what your flattery is worth, before you bestow it so freely[ ]." 'how different does this story appear, when accompanied with all these circumstances which really belong to it, but which mrs. thrale either did not know, or has suppressed. 'she says, in another place[ ], _"one gentleman, however, who dined at a nobleman's house in his company, and that of_ mr. thrale, _to whom i was obliged for the anecdote, was willing to enter the lists in defence of_ king william's _character; and having opposed and contradicted_ johnson _two or three times, petulantly enough, the master of the house began to feel uneasy, and expect disagreeable consequences; to avoid which, he said, loud enough for the doctor to hear,--'our friend here has no meaning now in all this, except just to relate at club to-morrow how he teized_ johnson _at dinner to-day; this is all to do himself_ honour.' _no, upon my word, (replied the other,') i see no_ honour _in it, whatever you may do. well, sir, (returned_ mr. johnson, _sternly,) if you do not_ see _the honour, i am sure i_ feel _the disgrace_." 'this is all sophisticated. mr. thrale was _not_ in the company, though he might have related the story to mrs. thrale. a friend, from whom i had the story, was present; and it was _not_ at the house of a nobleman. on the observation being made by the master of the house on a gentleman's contradicting johnson, that he had talked for the honour, &c., the gentleman muttered in a low voice, "i see no honour in it;" and dr. johnson said nothing: so all the rest, (though _bien trouvée_) is mere garnish.' i have had occasion several times, in the course of this work, to point out the incorrectness of mrs. thrale, as to particulars which consisted with my own knowledge[ ]. but indeed she has, in flippant terms enough, expressed her disapprobation of that anxious desire of authenticity which prompts a person who is to record conversations, to write them down _at the moment_[ ]. unquestionably, if they are to be recorded at all, the sooner it is done the better. this lady herself says[ ],-- _'to recollect, however, and to repeat the sayings of_ dr. johnson, _is almost all that can be done by the writers of his life; as his life, at least since my acquaintance with him, consisted in little else than talking, when he was not [absolutely] employed in some serious piece of work.'_ she boasts of her having kept a common-place book[ ]; and we find she noted, at one time or other, in a very lively manner, specimens of the conversation of dr. johnson, and of those who talked with him; but had she done it recently, they probably would have been less erroneous; and we should have been relieved from those disagreeable doubts of their authenticity, with which we must now peruse them. she says of him[ ],-- _'he was the most charitable of mortals, without being what we call an_ active friend. _admirable at giving counsel; no man saw his way so clearly; but he_ would not stir a finger _for the assistance of those to whom he was willing enough to give advice.'_ and again on the same page, _'if you wanted a slight favour, you must apply to people of other dispositions; for_ not a step would johnson move _to obtain a man a vote in a society, to repay a compliment which might be useful or pleasing, to write a letter of request, &c., or to obtain a hundred pounds a year more for a friend who, perhaps, had already two or three. no force could urge him to diligence, no importunity could conquer his resolution to stand still.'_ it is amazing that one who had such opportunities of knowing dr. johnson, should appear so little acquainted with his real character. i am sorry this lady does not advert, that she herself contradicts the assertion of his being obstinately defective in the _petites morales_, in the little endearing charities of social life, in conferring smaller favours; for she says[ ],-- 'dr. johnson _was liberal enough in granting literary assistance to others, i think; and innumerable are the prefaces, sermons, lectures, and dedications which he used to make for people who begged of him._' i am certain that a _more active friend_ has rarely been found in any age[ ]. this work, which i fondly hope will rescue his memory from obloquy, contains a thousand instances of his benevolent exertions in almost every way that can be conceived; and particularly in employing his pen with a generous readiness for those to whom its aid could be useful. indeed his obliging activity in doing little offices of kindness, both by letters and personal application, was one of the most remarkable features in his character; and for the truth of this i can appeal to a number of his respectable friends: sir joshua reynolds, mr. langton, mr. hamilton, mr. burke, mr. windham, mr. malone, the bishop of dromore, sir william scott, sir robert chambers. and can mrs. thrale forget the advertisements which he wrote for her husband at the time of his election contest[ ]; the epitaphs on him and her mother[ ]; the playful and even trifling verses, for the amusement of her and her daughters; his corresponding with her children[ ], and entering into their minute concerns[ ], which shews him in the most amiable light? she relates[ ],-- that mr. ch-lm-ley unexpectedly rode up to mr. thrale's carriage, in which mr. thrale and she, and dr. johnson were travelling; that he paid them all his proper compliments, but observing that dr. johnson, who was reading, did not see him, _'tapt him gently on the shoulder. "'tis_ mr. ch-lm-ley;" _says my husband. "well, sir--and what if it is_ mr. ch-lm-ley;" _says the other, sternly, just lifting his eyes a moment from his book, and returning to it again, with renewed avidity.'_ this surely conveys a notion of johnson, as if he had been grossly rude to mr. cholmondeley[ ], a gentleman whom he always loved and esteemed. if, therefore, there was an absolute necessity for mentioning the story at all, it might have been thought that her tenderness for dr. johnson's character would have disposed her to state any thing that could soften it. why then is there a total silence as to what mr. cholmondeley told her?--that johnson, who had known him from his earliest years, having been made sensible of what had doubtless a strange appearance, took occasion, when he afterwards met him, to make a very courteous and kind apology. there is another little circumstance which i cannot but remark. her book was published in , she had then in her possession a letter from dr. johnson, dated in [ ], which begins thus:--'cholmondeley's story shocks me, if it be true, which i can hardly think, for i am utterly unconscious of it: i am very sorry, and very much ashamed[ ].' why then publish the anecdote? or if she did, why not add the circumstances, with which she was well acquainted! in his social intercourse she thus describes him[ ]:-- '_ever musing till he was called out to converse, and conversing till the fatigue of his friends, or the promptitude of his own temper to take offence, consigned him back again to silent meditation_.' yet, in the same book[ ], she tells us,-- '_he was, however, seldom inclined to be silent, when any moral or literary question was started; and it was on such occasions that, like the sage in _"rasselas[ ]," _he spoke, and attention watched his lips; he reasoned, and conviction closed his periods_.' his conversation, indeed, was so far from ever _fatiguing_ his friends, that they regretted when it was interrupted, or ceased, and could exclaim in milton's language,-- 'with thee conversing, i forget all time[ ].' i certainly, then, do not claim too much in behalf of my illustrious friend in saying, that however smart and entertaining mrs. thrale's _anecdotes_ are, they must not be held as good evidence against him; for wherever an instance of harshness and severity is told, i beg leave to doubt its perfect authenticity; for though there may have been _some_ foundation for it, yet, like that of his reproof to the 'very celebrated lady,' it may be so exhibited in the narration as to be very unlike the real fact. the evident tendency of the following anecdote[ ] is to represent dr. johnson as extremely deficient in affection, tenderness, or even common civility:-- _'when i one day lamented the loss of a first cousin killed in_ america,--"_prithee, my dear, (said he,) have done with canting; how would the world be the worse for it, i may ask, if all your relations were at once spitted like larks, and roasted for_ presto's _supper?"_--presto[ ] _was the dog that lay under the table while we talked._' i suspect this too of exaggeration and distortion. i allow that he made her an angry speech; but let the circumstances fairly appear, as told by mr. baretti, who was present:-- 'mrs. thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid down her knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, "o, my dear mr. johnson, do you know what has happened? the last letters from abroad have brought us an account that our poor cousin's head was taken off by a cannon-ball." johnson, who was shocked both at the fact, and her light unfeeling manner of mentioning it, replied, "madam, it would give _you_ very little concern if all your relations were spitted like those larks, and drest for presto's supper[ ]."' it is with concern that i find myself obliged to animadvert on the inaccuracies of mrs. piozzi's _anecdotes_, and perhaps i may be thought to have dwelt too long upon her little collection. but as from johnson's long residence under mr. thrale's roof, and his intimacy with her, the account which she has given of him may have made an unfavourable and unjust impression, my duty, as a faithful biographer, has obliged me reluctantly to perform this unpleasing task. having left the _pious negotiation_, as i called it, in the best hands, i shall here insert what relates to it. johnson wrote to sir joshua reynolds on july , as follows:-- 'i am going, i hope, in a few days, to try the air of derbyshire, but hope to see you before i go. let me, however, mention to you what i have much at heart. if the chancellor should continue his attention to mr. boswell's request, and confer with you on the means of relieving my languid state, i am very desirous to avoid the appearance of asking money upon false pretences. i desire you to represent to his lordship, what, as soon as it is suggested, he will perceive to be reasonable,--that, if i grow much worse, i shall be afraid to leave my physicians, to suffer the inconveniences of travel, and pine in the solitude of a foreign country; that, if i grow much better, of which indeed there is now little appearance, i shall not wish to leave my friends and my domestick comforts; for i do not travel for pleasure or curiosity; yet if i should recover, curiosity would revive. in my present state, i am desirous to make a struggle for a little longer life, and hope to obtain some help from a softer climate. do for me what you can.' he wrote to me july :-- 'i wish your affairs could have permitted a longer and continued exertion of your zeal and kindness. they that have your kindness may want your ardour. in the mean time i am very feeble and very dejected.' by a letter from sir joshua reynolds i was informed, that the lord chancellor had called on him, and acquainted him that the application had not been successful; but that his lordship, after speaking highly in praise of johnson, as a man who was an honour to his country, desired sir joshua to let him know, that on granting a mortgage of his pension, he should draw on his lordship to the amount of five or six hundred pounds; and that his lordship explained the meaning of the mortgage to be, that he wished the business to be conducted in such a manner, that dr. johnson should appear to be under the least possible obligation. sir joshua mentioned, that he had by the same post communicated all this to dr. johnson. how johnson was affected upon the occasion will appear from what he wrote to sir joshua reynolds:-- 'ashbourne, sept. . many words i hope are not necessary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart by the chancellor's liberality, and your kind offices....[ ] i have enclosed a letter to the chancellor, which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or any other general seal, and convey it to him: had i sent it directly to him, i should have seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention.' 'to the lord high chancellor[ ]. my lord, after a long and not inattentive observation of mankind, the generosity of your lordship's offer raises in me not less wonder than gratitude[ ]. bounty, so liberally bestowed, i should gladly receive, if my condition made it necessary; for, to such a mind, who would not be proud to own his obligations? but it has pleased god to restore me to so great a measure of health, that if i should now appropriate so much of a fortune destined to do good, i could not escape from myself the charge of advancing a false claim. my journey to the continent, though i once thought it necessary, was never much encouraged by my physicians; and i was very desirous that your lordship should be told of it by sir joshua reynolds, as an event very uncertain; for if i grew much better, i should not be willing, if much worse, not able, to migrate. your lordship was first solicited without my knowledge; but, when i was told that you were pleased to honour me with your patronage, i did not expect to hear of a refusal; yet, as i have had no long time to brood hope, and have not rioted in imaginary opulence, this cold reception has been scarce a disappointment; and, from your lordship's kindness, i have received a benefit, which only men like you are able to bestow. i shall now live _mihi carior_, with a higher opinion of my own merit. 'i am, my lord, your lordship's most obliged, most grateful, and most humble servant, sam. johnson.' 'september, .' upon this unexpected failure i abstain from presuming to make any remarks, or to offer any conjectures.[ ] having after repeated reasonings[ ], brought dr. johnson to agree to my removing to london, and even to furnish me with arguments in favour of what he had opposed; i wrote to him requesting he would write them for me; he was so good as to comply, and i shall extract that part of his letter to me of june [ ], as a proof how well he could exhibit a cautious yet encouraging view of it:-- 'i remember, and intreat you to remember, that _virtus est vitium fugere_[ ]; the first approach to riches is security from poverty. the condition on which you have my consent to settle in london is, that your expence never exceeds your annual income. fixing this basis of security, you cannot be hurt, and you may be very much advanced. the loss of your scottish business, which is all that you can lose, is not to be reckoned as any equivalent to the hopes and possibilities that open here upon you. if you succeed, the question of prudence is at an end; every body will think that done right which ends happily; and though your expectations, of which i would not advise you to talk too much, should not be totally answered, you can hardly fail to get friends who will do for you all that your present situation allows you to hope; and if, after a few years, you should return to scotland, you will return with a mind supplied by various conversation, and many opportunities of enquiry, with much knowledge, and materials for reflection and instruction.' let us now contemplate johnson thirty years after the death of his wife, still retaining for her all the tenderness of affection. 'to the reverend mr. bagshaw, at bromley[ ]. 'sir, 'perhaps you may remember, that in the year [ ], you committed to the ground my dear wife. i now entreat your permission to lay a stone upon her; and have sent the inscription, that, if you find it proper, you may signify your allowance. 'you will do me a great favour by showing the place where she lies, that the stone may protect her remains. 'mr. ryland[ ] will wait on you for the inscription[ ], and procure it to be engraved. you will easily believe that i shrink from this mournful office. when it is done, if i have strength remaining, i will visit bromley once again, and pay you part of the respect to which you have a right from, reverend sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson[ ].' 'july , .' on the same day he wrote to mr. langton:-- 'i cannot but think that in my languid and anxious state, i have some reason to complain that i receive from you neither enquiry nor consolation. you know how much i value your friendship, and with what confidence i expect your kindness, if i wanted any act of tenderness that you could perform; at least, if you do not know it, i think your ignorance is your own fault. yet how long is it that i have lived almost in your neighbourhood without the least notice. i do not, however, consider this neglect as particularly shown to me; i hear two of your most valuable friends make the same complaint. but why are all thus overlooked? you are not oppressed by sickness, you are not distracted by business; if you are sick, you are sick of leisure:--and allow yourself to be told, that no disease is more to be dreaded or avoided. rather to do nothing than to do good, is the lowest state of a degraded mind. boileau says to his pupil, '_que les vers ne soient pas votre éternel emploi, cultivez vos amis_[ ].'-- that voluntary debility, which modern language is content to term indolence, will, if it is not counteracted by resolution, render in time the strongest faculties lifeless, and turn the flame to the smoke of virtue. i do not expect nor desire to see you, because i am much pleased to find that your mother stays so long with you, and i should think you neither elegant nor grateful, if you did not study her gratification. you will pay my respects to both the ladies, and to all the young people. i am going northward for a while, to try what help the country can give me; but, if you will write, the letter will come after me.' next day he set out on a jaunt to staffordshire and derbyshire, flattering himself that he might be in some degree relieved. during his absence from london he kept up a correspondence with several of his friends, from which i shall select what appears to me proper for publication, without attending nicely to chronological order. to dr. brocklesby, he writes, ashbourne, july :-- 'the kind attention which you have so long shewn to my health and happiness, makes it as much a debt of gratitude as a call of interest, to give you an account of what befals me, when accident recovers[ ] me from your immediate care. the journey of the first day was performed with very little sense of fatigue; the second day brought me to lichfield, without much lassitude; but i am afraid that i could not have borne such violent agitation for many days together. tell dr. heberden, that in the coach i read _ciceronianus_ which i concluded as i entered lichfield. my affection and understanding went along with erasmus, except that once or twice he somewhat unskilfully entangles cicero's civil or moral, with his rhetorical, character. i staid five days at lichfield, but, being unable to walk, had no great pleasure, and yesterday ( th) i came hither, where i am to try what air and attention can perform. of any improvement in my health i cannot yet please myself with the perception.--the asthma has no abatement. opiates stop the fit, so as that i can sit and sometimes lie easy, but they do not now procure me the power of motion; and i am afraid that my general strength of body does not encrease. the weather indeed is not benign; but how low is he sunk whose strength depends upon the weather[ ]! i am now looking into floyer[ ] who lived with his asthma to almost his ninetieth year. his book by want of order is obscure, and his asthma, i think, not of the same kind with mine. something however i may perhaps learn. my appetite still continues keen enough; and what i consider as a symptom of radical health, i have a voracious delight in raw summer fruit, of which i was less eager a few years ago[ ]. you will be pleased to communicate this account to dr. heberden, and if any thing is to be done, let me have your joint opinion. now--_abite curoe_;--let me enquire after the club[ ].' july . 'not recollecting that dr. heberden might be at windsor, i thought your letter long in coming. but, you know, _nocitura petuntur_[ ], the letter which i so much desired, tells me that i have lost one of my best and tenderest friends[ ]. my comfort is, that he appeared to live like a man that had always before his eyes the fragility of our present existence, and was therefore, i hope, not unprepared to meet his judge. your attention, dear sir, and that of dr. heberden, to my health, is extremely kind. i am loth to think that i grow worse; and cannot fairly prove even to my own partiality, that i grow much better.' august . 'i return you thanks, dear sir, for your unwearied attention, both medicinal and friendly, and hope to prove the effect of your care by living to acknowledge it.' august [ ]. 'pray be so kind as to have me in your thoughts, and mention my case to others as you have opportunity. i seem to myself neither to gain nor lose strength. i have lately tried milk, but have yet found no advantage, and am afraid of it merely as a liquid. my appetite is still good, which i know is dear dr. heberden's criterion of the _vis vitoe_. as we cannot now see each other, do not omit to write, for you cannot think with what warmth of expectation i reckon the hours of a post-day.' august . 'i have hitherto sent you only melancholy letters, you will be glad to hear some better account. yesterday the asthma remitted, perceptibly remitted, and i moved with more ease than i have enjoyed for many weeks. may god continue his mercy. this account i would not delay, because i am not a lover of complaints, or complainers, and yet i have since we parted uttered nothing till now but terrour and sorrow. write to me, dear sir.' august . 'better i hope, and better. my respiration gets more and more ease and liberty. i went to church yesterday, after a very liberal dinner, without any inconvenience; it is indeed no long walk, but i never walked it without difficulty, since i came, before.--the intention was only to overpower the seeming _vis inertioe_ of the pectoral and pulmonary muscles. i am favoured with a degree of ease that very much delights me, and do not despair of another race upon the stairs of the academy[ ]. if i were, however, of a humour to see, or to shew the state of my body, on the dark side, i might say, _"quid te exempta juvat spinis de pluribus una[ ]?"_ the nights are still sleepless, and the water rises, though it does not rise very fast. let us, however, rejoice in all the good that we have. the remission of one disease will enable nature to combat the rest. the squills i have not neglected; for i have taken more than a hundred drops a day, and one day took two hundred and fifty, which, according to the popular equivalence of a drop to a grain, is more than half an ounce. i thank you, dear sir, for your attention in ordering the medicines; your attention to me has never failed. if the virtue of medicines could be enforced by the benevolence of the prescriber, how soon should i be well.' august . 'the relaxation of the asthma still continues, yet i do not trust it wholly to itself, but soothe it now and then with an opiate. i not only perform the perpetual act of respiration with less labour, but i can walk with fewer intervals of rest, and with greater freedom of motion. i never thought well of dr. james's compounded medicines[ ]; his ingredients appeared to me sometimes inefficacious and trifling, and sometimes heterogeneous and destructive of each other. this prescription exhibits a composition of about three hundred and thirty grains, in which there are four grains of emetick tartar, and six drops [of] thebaick tincture. he that writes thus, surely writes for show. the basis of his medicine is the gum ammoniacum, which dear dr. lawrence used to give, but of which i never saw any effect. we will, if you please, let this medicine alone. the squills have every suffrage, and in the squills we will rest for the present.' august . 'the kindness which you shew by having me in your thoughts upon all occasions, will, i hope, always fill my heart with gratitude. be pleased to return my thanks to sir george baker[ ], for the consideration which he has bestowed upon me. is this the balloon that has been so long expected, this balloon to which i subscribed, but without payment[ ]? it is pity that philosophers have been disappointed, and shame that they have been cheated; but i know not well how to prevent either. of this experiment i have read nothing; where was it exhibited? and who was the man that ran away with so much money? continue, dear sir, to write often and more at a time; for none of your prescriptions operate to their proper uses more certainly than your letters operate as cordials.' august . 'i suffered you to escape last post without a letter, but you are not to expect such indulgence very often; for i write not so much because i have any thing to say, as because i hope for an answer; and the vacancy of my life here makes a letter of great value. i have here little company and little amusement, and thus abandoned to the contemplation of my own miseries, i am sometimes gloomy and depressed; this too i resist as i can, and find opium, i think, useful, but i seldom take more than one grain. is not this strange weather? winter absorbed the spring, and now autumn is come before we have had summer. but let not our kindness for each other imitate the inconstancy of the seasons.' sept. . 'mr. windham has been here to see me; he came, i think, forty miles out of his way, and staid about a day and a half, perhaps i make the time shorter than it was. such conversation i shall not have again till i come back to the regions of literature; and there windham is, _inter stellas_[ ] _luna minores_[ ].' he then mentions the effects of certain medicines, as taken; that 'nature is recovering its original powers, and the functions returning to their proper state. god continue his mercies, and grant me to use them rightly.' sept. . 'do you know the duke and duchess of devonshire? and have you ever seen chatsworth? i was at chatsworth on monday: i had indeed seen it before[ ], but never when its owners were at home; i was very kindly received, and honestly pressed to stay: but i told them that a sick man is not a fit inmate of a great house. but i hope to go again some time.' sept. . 'i think nothing grows worse, but all rather better, except sleep, and that of late has been at its old pranks. last evening, i felt what i had not known for a long time, an inclination to walk for amusement; i took a short walk, and came back again neither breathless nor fatigued. this has been a gloomy, frigid, ungenial summer, but of late it seems to mend; i hear the heat sometimes mentioned, but i do not feel it: "praterea minimus gelido jam in corpore sanguis febre calet solá[ ].----" i hope, however, with good help, to find means of supporting a winter at home, and to hear and tell at the club what is doing, and what ought to be doing in the world. i have no company here, and shall naturally come home hungry for conversation. to wish you, dear sir, more leisure, would not be kind; but what leisure you have, you must bestow upon me.' sept. . 'i have now let you alone for a long time, having indeed little to say. you charge me somewhat unjustly with luxury. at chatsworth, you should remember, that i have eaten but once; and the doctor, with whom i live, follows a milk diet. i grow no fatter, though my stomach, if it be not disturbed by physick, never fails me. i now grow weary of solitude, and think of removing next week to lichfield, a place of more society, but otherwise of less convenience. when i am settled, i shall write again. of the hot weather that you mention, we have [not] had in derbyshire very much, and for myself i seldom feel heat, and suppose that my frigidity is the effect of my distemper; a supposition which naturally leads me to hope that a hotter climate may be useful. but i hope to stand another english winter.' lichfield, sept. . 'on one day i had three letters about the air-balloon[ ]: yours was far the best, and has enabled me to impart to my friends in the country an idea of this species of amusement. in amusement, mere amusement, i am afraid it must end, for i do not find that its course can be directed so as that it should serve any purposes of communication; and it can give no new intelligence of the state of the air at different heights, till they have ascended above the height of mountains, which they seem never likely to do. i came hither on the th. how long i shall stay i have not determined. my dropsy is gone, and my asthma much remitted, but i have felt myself a little declining these two days, or at least to-day; but such vicissitudes must be expected. one day may be worse than another; but this last month is far better than the former; if the next should be as much better than this, i shall run about the town on my own legs.' october . 'the fate of the balloon i do not much lament[ ]: to make new balloons, is to repeat the jest again. we now know a method of mounting into the air, and, i think, are not likely to know more. the vehicles can serve no use till we can guide them; and they can gratify no curiosity till we mount with them to greater heights than we can reach without; till we rise above the tops of the highest mountains, which we have yet not done. we know the state of the air in all its regions, to the top of teneriffe, and therefore, learn nothing from those who navigate a balloon below the clouds. the first experiment, however, was bold, and deserved applause and reward. but since it has been performed, and its event is known, i had rather now find a medicine that can ease an asthma.' october . 'you write to me with a zeal that animates, and a tenderness that melts me. i am not afraid either of a journey to london, or a residence in it. i came down with little fatigue, and am now not weaker. in the smoky atmosphere i was delivered from the dropsy, which i consider as the original and radical disease. the town is my element[ ]; there are my friends, there are my books, to which i have not yet bid farewell, and there are my amusements. sir joshua told me long ago that my vocation was to publick life, and i hope still to keep my station, till god shall bid me _go in peace_[ ].' to mr. hoole:-- ashbourne, aug. . 'since i was here i have two little letters from you, and have not had the gratitude to write. but every man is most free with his best friends, because he does not suppose that they can suspect him of intentional incivility. one reason for my omission is, that being in a place to which you are wholly a stranger, i have no topicks of correspondence. if you had any knowledge of ashbourne, i could tell you of two ashbourne men, who, being last week condemned at derby to be hanged for a robbery, went and hanged themselves in their cell[ ]. but this, however it may supply us with talk, is nothing to you. your kindness, i know, would make you glad to hear some good of me, but i have not much good to tell; if i grow not worse, it is all that i can say. i hope mrs. hoole receives more help from her migration. make her my compliments, and write again to, dear sir, your affectionate servant.' aug. . 'i thank you for your affectionate letter. i hope we shall both be the better for each other's friendship, and i hope we shall not very quickly be parted. tell mr. nicholls that i shall be glad of his correspondence, when his business allows him a little remission; though to wish him less business, that i may have more pleasure, would be too selfish. to pay for seats at the balloon is not very necessary, because in less than a minute, they who gaze at a mile's distance will see all that can be seen. about the wings[ ] i am of your mind; they cannot at all assist it, nor i think regulate its motion. i am now grown somewhat easier in my body, but my mind is sometimes depressed. about the club i am in no great pain. the forfeitures go on, and the house, i hear, is improved for our future meetings. i hope we shall meet often and sit long.' sept. . 'your letter was, indeed, long in coming, but it was very welcome. our acquaintance has now subsisted long[ ] and our recollection of each other involves a great space, and many little occurrences, which melt the thoughts to tenderness. write to me, therefore, as frequently as you can. i hear from dr. brocklesby and mr. ryland, that the club is not crouded. i hope we shall enliven it when winter brings us together.' to dr. burney:-- august . 'the weather, you know, has not been balmy; i am now reduced to think, and am at last content to talk of the weather. pride must have a fall[ ]. i have lost dear mr. allen, and wherever i turn, the dead or the dying meet my notice, and force my attention upon misery and mortality. mrs. burney's escape from so much danger, and her ease after so much pain, throws, however, some radiance of hope upon the gloomy prospect. may her recovery be perfect, and her continuance long. i struggle hard for life. i take physick, and take air; my friend's chariot is always ready. we have run this morning twenty-four miles, and could run forty-eight more. _but who can run the race with death?_' 'sept. . [concerning a private transaction, in which his opinion was asked, and after giving it he makes the following reflections, which are applicable on other occasions.] nothing deserves more compassion than wrong conduct with good meaning; than loss or obloquy suffered by one who, as he is conscious only of good intentions, wonders why he loses that kindness which he wishes to preserve; and not knowing his own fault, if, as may sometimes happen, nobody will tell him, goes on to offend by his endeavours to please. i am delighted by finding that our opinions are the same. you will do me a real kindness by continuing to write. a post-day has now been long a day of recreation.' nov. . 'our correspondence paused for want of topicks. i had said what i had to say on the matter proposed to my consideration; and nothing remained but to tell you, that i waked or slept; that i was more or less sick. i drew my thoughts in upon myself, and supposed yours employed upon your book. that your book[ ] has been delayed i am glad, since you have gained an opportunity of being more exact. of the caution necessary in adjusting narratives there is no end. some tell what they do not know, that they may not seem ignorant, and others from mere indifference about truth. all truth is not, indeed, of equal importance; but, if little violations are allowed, every violation will in time be thought little; and a writer should keep himself vigilantly on his guard against the first temptations to negligence or supineness. i had ceased to write, because respecting you i had no more to say, and respecting myself could say little good. i cannot boast of advancement, and in cases of convalescence it may be said, with few exceptions, _non progredi, est regredi_. i hope i may be excepted. my great difficulty was with my sweet fanny[ ], who, by her artifice of inserting her letter in yours, had given me a precept of frugality[ ] which i was not at liberty to neglect; and i know not who were in town under whose cover i could send my letter[ ]. i rejoice to hear that you are all so well, and have a delight particularly sympathetick in the recovery of mrs. burney.' to mr. langton:-- aug. . 'the kindness of your last letter, and my omission to answer it, begins to give you, even in my opinion, a right to recriminate, and to charge me with forgetfulness for the absent. i will, therefore, delay no longer to give an account of myself, and wish i could relate what would please either myself or my friend. on july , i left london, partly in hope of help from new air and change of place, and partly excited by the sick man's impatience of the present. i got to lichfield in a stage vehicle, with very little fatigue, in two days, and had the consolation[ ] to find, that since my last visit my three old acquaintance are all dead. july , i went to ashbourne, where i have been till now; the house in which we live is repairing. i live in too much solitude, and am often deeply dejected: i wish we were nearer, and rejoice in your removal to london. a friend, at once cheerful and serious, is a great acquisition. let us not neglect one another for the little time which providence allows us to hope. of my health i cannot tell you, what my wishes persuaded me to expect, that it is much improved by the season or by remedies. i am sleepless; my legs grow weary with a very few steps, and the water breaks its boundaries in some degree. the asthma, however, has remitted; my breath is still much obstructed, but is more free than it was. nights of watchfulness produce torpid days; i read very little, though i am alone; for i am tempted to supply in the day what i lost in bed. this is my history; like all other histories, a narrative of misery. yet am i so much better than in the beginning of the year, that i ought to be ashamed of complaining. i now sit and write with very little sensibility of pain or weakness; but when i rise, i shall find my legs betraying me. of the money which you mentioned, i have no immediate need; keep it, however, for me, unless some exigence requires it. your papers i will shew you certainly when you would see them, but i am a little angry at you for not keeping minutes of your own _acceptum et expensum_[ ], and think a little time might be spared from aristophanes, for the _res familiares_. forgive me for i mean well. i hope, dear sir, that you and lady rothes, and all the young people, too many to enumerate, are well and happy. god bless you all.' to mr. windham:-- august. 'the tenderness with which you have been pleased to treat me, through my long illness, neither health nor sickness can, i hope, make me forget; and you are not to suppose, that after we parted you were no longer in my mind. but what can a sick man say, but that he is sick? his thoughts are necessarily concentered in himself; he neither receives nor can give delight; his enquiries are after alleviations of pain, and his efforts are to catch some momentary comfort. though i am now in the neighbourhood of the peak, you must expect no account of its wonders, of its hills, its waters, its caverns, or its mines; but i will tell you, dear sir, what i hope you will not hear with less satisfaction, that, for about a week past, my asthma has been less afflictive.' lichfield. october [ ]. 'i believe you have been long enough acquainted with the _phoenomena_ of sickness, not to be surprised that a sick man wishes to be where he is not, and where it appears to every body but himself that he might easily be, without having the resolution to remove. i thought ashbourne a solitary place, but did not come hither till last monday. i have here more company, but my health has for this last week not advanced; and in the languor of disease how little can be done? whither or when i shall make my next remove i cannot tell; but i entreat you, dear sir, to let me know, from time to time, where you may be found, for your residence is a very powerful attractive to, sir, your most humble servant.' 'to mr. perkins. 'dear sir, 'i cannot but flatter myself that your kindness for me will make you glad to know where i am, and in what state. 'i have been struggling very hard with my diseases. my breath has been very much obstructed, and the water has attempted to encroach upon me again. i past the first part of the summer at oxford, afterwards i went to lichfield, thence to ashbourne, in derbyshire, and a week ago i returned to lichfield. 'my breath is now much easier, and the water is in a great measure run away, so that i hope to see you again before winter. 'please to make my compliments to mrs. perkins, and to mr. and mrs. barclay. 'i am, dear sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'lichfield, oct. , .' 'to the right hon. william gerard hamilton. 'dear sir, 'considering what reason[ ] you gave me in the spring to conclude that you took part in whatever good or evil might befal me, i ought not to have omitted so long the account which i am now about to give you. my diseases are an asthma and a dropsy, and, what is less curable, seventy-five. of the dropsy, in the beginning of the summer, or in the spring, i recovered to a degree which struck with wonder both me and my physicians: the asthma now is likewise, for a time, very much relieved. i went to oxford, where the asthma was very tyrannical, and the dropsy began again to threaten me; but seasonable physick stopped the inundation: i then returned to london, and in july took a resolution to visit staffordshire and derbyshire, where i am yet struggling with my diseases. the dropsy made another attack, and was not easily ejected, but at last gave way. the asthma suddenly remitted in bed, on the th of august, and, though now very oppressive, is, i think, still something gentler than it was before the remission. my limbs are miserably debilitated, and my nights are sleepless and tedious. when you read this, dear sir, you are not sorry that i wrote no sooner. i will not prolong my complaints. i hope still to see you _in a happier hour_[ ], to talk over what we have often talked, and perhaps to find new topicks of merriment, or new incitements to curiosity. i am, dear sir, &c. sam. johnson. lichfield, oct. , .' 'to john paradise, esq.[ ] dear sir, though in all my summer's excursion i have given you no account of myself, i hope you think better of me than to imagine it possible for me to forget you, whose kindness to me has been too great and too constant not to have made its impression on a harder breast than mine. silence is not very culpable when nothing pleasing is suppressed. it would have alleviated none of your complaints to have read my vicissitudes of evil. i have struggled hard with very formidable and obstinate maladies; and though i cannot talk of health, think all praise due to my creator and preserver for the continuance of my life. the dropsy has made two attacks, and has given way to medicine; the asthma is very oppressive, but that has likewise once remitted. i am very weak, and very sleepless; but it is time to conclude the tale of misery. i hope, dear sir, that you grow better, for you have likewise your share of human evil, and that your lady and the young charmers are well. i am, dear sir, &c. sam. johnson. lichfield, oct. , .' 'to mr. george nicol[ ]. 'dear sir, 'since we parted, i have been much oppressed by my asthma, but it has lately been less laborious. when i sit i am almost at ease, and i can walk, though yet very little, with less difficulty for this week past, than before. i hope i shall again enjoy my friends, and that you and i shall have a little more literary conversation. where i now am, every thing is very liberally provided for me but conversation. my friend is sick himself, and the reciprocation of complaints and groans affords not much of either pleasure or instruction. what we have not at home this town does not supply, and i shall be glad of a little imported intelligence, and hope that you will bestow, now and then, a little time on the relief and entertainment of, sir, 'yours, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourne, aug. , .' 'to mr. cruikshank. 'dear sir, 'do not suppose that i forget you; i hope i shall never be accused of forgetting my benefactors[ ]. i had, till lately, nothing to write but complaints upon complaints, of miseries upon miseries; but within this fortnight i have received great relief. have your lectures any vacation? if you are released from the necessity of daily study, you may find time for a letter to me. [in this letter he states the particulars of his case.] in return for this account of my health, let me have a good account of yours, and of your prosperity in all your undertakings. 'i am, dear sir, yours, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourne, sept. , .' to mr. thomas davies:-- august . 'the tenderness with which you always treat me, makes me culpable in my own eyes for having omitted to write in so long a separation; i had, indeed, nothing to say that you could wish to hear. all has been hitherto misery accumulated upon misery, disease corroborating disease, till yesterday my asthma was perceptibly and unexpectedly mitigated. i am much comforted with this short relief, and am willing to flatter myself that it may continue and improve. i have at present, such a degree of ease, as not only may admit the comforts, but the duties of life. make my compliments to mrs. davies. poor dear allen, he was a good man.' to sir joshua reynolds:-- ashbourne, july . 'the tenderness with which i am treated by my friends, makes it reasonable to suppose that they are desirous to know the state of my health, and a desire so benevolent ought to be gratified. i came to lichfield in two days without any painful fatigue, and on monday came hither, where i purpose to stay: and try what air and regularity will effect. i cannot yet persuade myself that i have made much progress in recovery. my sleep is little, my breath is very much encumbered, and my legs are very weak. the water has encreased a little, but has again run off. the most distressing symptom is want of sleep.' august . 'having had since our separation, little to say that could please you or myself by saying, i have not been lavish of useless letters; but i flatter myself that you will partake of the pleasure with which i can now tell you that about a week ago, i felt suddenly a sensible remission of my asthma, and consequently a greater lightness of action and motion. of this grateful alleviation i know not the cause, nor dare depend upon its continuance, but while it lasts i endeavour to enjoy it, and am desirous of communicating, while it lasts, my pleasure to my friends. hitherto, dear sir, i had written before the post, which stays in this town but a little while, brought me your letter. mr. davies seems to have represented my little tendency to recovery in terms too splendid. i am still restless, still weak, still watery, but the asthma is less oppressive. poor ramsay[ ]! on which side soever i turn, mortality presents its formidable frown. i left three old friends at lichfield when i was last there, and now found them all dead. i no sooner lose sight of dear allen, than i am told that i shall see him no more. that we must all die, we always knew; i wish i had sooner remembered it. do not think me intrusive or importunate, if i now call, dear sir, on you to remember it.' sept. . 'i am glad that a little favour from the court has intercepted your furious purposes[ ]. i could not in any case have approved such publick violence of resentment, and should have considered any who encouraged it, as rather seeking sport for themselves, than honour for you. resentment gratifies him who intended an injury, and pains him unjustly who did not intend it. but all this is now superfluous. i still continue by god's mercy to mend. my breath is easier, my nights are quieter, and my legs are less in bulk, and stronger in use. i have, however, yet a great deal to overcome, before i can yet attain even an old man's health. write, do write to me now and then; we are now old acquaintance, and perhaps few people have lived so much and so long together, with less cause of complaint on either side. the retrospection of this is very pleasant, and i hope we shall never think on each other with less kindness.' sept. . 'i could not answer your letter[ ] before this day, because i went on the sixth to chatsworth, and did not come back till the post was gone. many words, i hope, are not necessary between you and me, to convince you what gratitude is excited in my heart, by the chancellor's liberality and your kind offices. i did not indeed expect that what was asked by the chancellor would have been refused[ ], but since it has, we will not tell that any thing has been asked. i have enclosed a letter to the chancellor which, when you have read it, you will be pleased to seal with a head, or other general seal, and convey it to him; had i sent it directly to him, i should have seemed to overlook the favour of your intervention. my last letter told you of my advance in health, which, i think, in the whole still continues. of the hydropick tumour there is now very little appearance; the asthma is much less troublesome, and seems to remit something day after day. i do not despair of supporting an english winter. at chatsworth, i met young mr. burke, who led me very commodiously into conversation with the duke and duchess. we had a very good morning. the dinner was publick[ ].' sept. . 'i flattered myself that this week would have given me a letter from you, but none has come. write to me now and then, but direct your next to lichfield. i think, and i hope, am sure, that i still grow better; i have sometimes good nights; but am still in my legs weak, but so much mended, that i go to lichfield in hope of being able to pay my visits on foot, for there are no coaches. i have three letters this day, all about the balloon, i could have been content with one. do not write about the balloon, whatever else you may think proper to say[ ].' october . 'i am always proud of your approbation, and therefore was much pleased that you liked my letter. when you copied it[ ], you invaded the chancellor's right rather than mine. the refusal i did not expect, but i had never thought much about it, for i doubted whether the chancellor had so much tenderness for me as to ask. he, being keeper of the king's conscience, ought not to be supposed capable of an improper petition. all is not gold that glitters, as we have often been told; and the adage is verified in your place[ ] and my favour; but if what happens does not make us richer, we must bid it welcome, if it makes us wiser. i do not at present grow better, nor much worse; my hopes, however, are somewhat abated, and a very great loss is the loss of hope, but i struggle on as i can.' to mr. john nichols:-- lichfield, oct. . 'when you were here, you were pleased, as i am told, to think my absence an inconvenience. i should certainly have been very glad to give so skilful a lover of antiquities any information about my native place, of which, however, i know not much, and have reason to believe that not much is known. though i have not given you any amusement, i have received amusement from you. at ashbourne, where i had very little company, i had the luck to borrow _mr. bowyer's life_[ ]; a book so full of contemporary history, that a literary man must find some of his old friends. i thought that i could, now and then, have told you some hints[ ] worth your notice; and perhaps we may talk a life over. i hope we shall be much together; you must now be to me what you were before, and what dear mr. allen was, besides. he was taken unexpectedly away, but i think he was a very good man. i have made little progress in recovery. i am very weak, and very sleepless; but i live on and hope[ ].' this various mass of correspondence, which i have thus brought together, is valuable, both as an addition to the store which the publick already has of johnson's writings, and as exhibiting a genuine and noble specimen of vigour and vivacity of mind, which neither age nor sickness could impair or diminish. it may be observed, that his writing in every way, whether for the publick, or privately to his friends, was by fits and starts; for we see frequently, that many letters are written on the same day. when he had once overcome his aversion to begin, he was, i suppose, desirous to go on, in order to relieve his mind from the uneasy reflection of delaying what he ought to do[ ]. while in the country, notwithstanding the accumulation of illness which he endured, his mind did not lose its powers. he translated an ode of horace[ ], which is printed in his _works_, and composed several prayers. i shall insert one of them, which is so wise and energetick, so philosophical and so pious, that i doubt not of its affording consolation to many a sincere christian, when in a state of mind to which i believe the best are sometimes liable[ ]. and here i am enabled fully to refute a very unjust reflection, by sir john hawkins[ ], both against dr. johnson, and his faithful servant, mr. francis barber[ ]; as if both of them had been guilty of culpable neglect towards a person of the name of heely, whom sir john chooses to call a _relation_ of dr. johnson's. the fact is, that mr. heely was not his relation; he had indeed been married to one of his cousins, but she had died without having children, and he had married another woman; so that even the slight connection which there once had been by _alliance_ was dissolved. dr. johnson, who had shewn very great liberality to this man while his first wife was alive, as has appeared in a former part of this work[ ], was humane and charitable enough to continue his bounty to him occasionally; but surely there was no strong call of duty upon him or upon his legatee, to do more. the following letter, obligingly communicated to me by mr. andrew strahan, will confirm what i have stated:-- 'to mr. heely, no. , in pye-street, westminster. 'sir, 'as necessity obliges you to call so soon again upon me, you should at least have told the smallest sum that will supply your present want; you cannot suppose that i have much to spare. two guineas is as much as you ought to be behind with your creditor. if you wait on mr. strahan, in new-street, fetter-lane, or in his absence, on mr. andrew strahan, shew this, by which they are entreated to advance you two guineas, and to keep this as a voucher. 'i am, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'ashbourne, aug. , .' indeed it is very necessary to keep in mind that sir john hawkins has unaccountably viewed johnson's character and conduct in almost every particular, with an unhappy prejudice[ ]. we now behold johnson for the last time, in his native city, for which he ever retained a warm affection, and which, by a sudden apostrophe, under the word _lich_[ ], he introduces with reverence, into his immortal work, the english dictionary:--_salve, magna parens![ ] while here, he felt a revival of all the tenderness of filial affection, an instance of which appeared in his ordering the grave-stone and inscription over elizabeth blaney[ ] to be substantially and carefully renewed. to mr. henry white[ ], a young clergyman, with whom he now formed an intimacy, so as to talk to him with great freedom, he mentioned that he could not in general accuse himself of having been an undutiful son. 'once, indeed, (said he,) i was disobedient; i refused to attend my father to uttoxeter-market. pride was the source of that refusal, and the remembrance of it was painful. a few years ago, i desired to atone for this fault; i went to uttoxeter in very bad weather, and stood for a considerable time bareheaded in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall used to stand. in contrition i stood, and i hope the penance was expiatory[ ].' 'i told him (says miss seward) in one of my latest visits to him, of a wonderful learned pig, which i had seen at nottingham; and which did all that we have observed exhibited by dogs and horses. the subject amused him. 'then, (said he,) the pigs are a race unjustly calumniated. _pig_ has, it seems, not been wanting to _man_, but _man_ to _pig_. we do not allow _time_ for his education, we kill him at a year old.' mr. henry white, who was present, observed that if this instance had happened in or before pope's time, he would not have been justified in instancing the swine as the lowest degree of groveling instinct[ ]. dr. johnson seemed pleased with the observation, while the person who made it proceeded to remark, that great torture must have been employed, ere the indocility of the animal could have been subdued. 'certainly, (said the doctor;) but, (turning to me,) how old is your pig?' i told him, three years old. 'then, (said he,) the pig has no cause to complain; he would have been killed the first year if he had not been _educated_, and protracted existence is a good recompence for very considerable degrees of torture[ ].' as johnson had now very faint hopes of recovery, and as mrs. thrale was no longer devoted to him, it might have been supposed that he would naturally have chosen to remain in the comfortable house of his beloved wife's daughter, and end his life where he began it. but there was in him an animated and lofty spirit[ ], and however complicated diseases might depress ordinary mortals, all who saw him, beheld and acknowledged the _invictum animum catonis_[ ]. such was his intellectual ardour even at this time, that he said to one friend, 'sir, i look upon every day to be lost, in which i do not make a new acquaintance[ ];' and to another, when talking of his illness, 'i will be conquered; i will not capitulate[ ].' and such was his love of london, so high a relish had he of its magnificent extent, and variety of intellectual entertainment, that he languished when absent from it, his mind having become quite luxurious from the long habit of enjoying the metropolis; and, therefore, although at lichfield, surrounded with friends, who loved and revered him, and for whom he had a very sincere affection, he still found that such conversation as london affords, could be found no where else. these feelings, joined, probably, to some flattering hopes of aid from the eminent physicians and surgeons in london, who kindly and generously attended him without accepting fees, made him resolve to return to the capital. from lichfield he came to birmingham, where he passed a few days with his worthy old schoolfellow, mr. hector, who thus writes to me:-- 'he was very solicitous with me to recollect some of our most early transactions, and transmit them to him, for i perceive nothing gave him greater pleasure than calling to mind those days of our innocence. i complied with his request, and he only received them a few days before his death. i have transcribed for your inspection, exactly the minutes i wrote to him.' this paper having been found in his repositories after his death, sir john hawkins has inserted it entire[ ], and i have made occasional use of it and other communications from mr. hector[ ], in the course of this work. i have both visited and corresponded with him since dr. johnson's death, and by my inquiries concerning a great variety of particulars have obtained additional information. i followed the same mode with the reverend dr. taylor, in whose presence i wrote down a good deal of what he could tell; and he, at my request, signed his name, to give it authenticity. it is very rare to find any person who is able to give a distinct account of the life even of one whom he has known intimately, without questions being put to them. my friend dr. kippis[ ] has told me, that on this account it is a practice with him to draw out a biographical catechism. johnson then proceeded to oxford, where he was again kindly received by dr. adams[ ], who was pleased to give me the following account in one of his letters, (feb. th, ):-- 'his last visit was, i believe, to my house, which he left, after a stay of four or five days. we had much serious talk together, for which i ought to be the better as long as i live. you will remember some discourse which we had in the summer upon the subject of prayer, and the difficulty of this sort of composition[ ]. he reminded me of this, and of my having wished him to try his hand, and to give us a specimen of the style and manner that he approved. he added, that he was now in a right frame of mind, and as he could not possibly employ his time better, he would in earnest set about it. but i find upon enquiry, that no papers of this sort were left behind him, except a few short ejaculatory forms suitable to his present situation.' dr. adams had not then received accurate information on this subject; for it has since appeared that various prayers had been composed by him at different periods, which, intermingled with pious resolutions, and some short notes of his life, were entitled by him _prayers and meditations_, and have, in pursuance of his earnest requisition, in the hopes of doing good, been published, with a judicious well-written preface, by the reverend mr. strahan, to whom he delivered them[ ]. this admirable collection, to which i have frequently referred in the course of this work, evinces, beyond all his compositions for the publick, and all the eulogies of his friends and admirers, the sincere virtue and piety of johnson. it proves with unquestionable authenticity, that amidst all his constitutional infirmities, his earnestness to conform his practice to the precepts of christianity was unceasing, and that he habitually endeavoured to refer every transaction of his life to the will of the supreme being. he arrived in london on the th of november, and next day sent to dr. burney the following note, which i insert as the last token of his remembrance of that ingenious and amiable man, and as another of the many proofs of the tenderness and benignity of his heart:-- 'mr. johnson, who came home last night, sends his respects to dear dr. burney, and all the dear burneys, little and great[ ].' 'to mr. hector, in birmingham. 'dear sir, 'i did not reach oxford until friday morning, and then i sent francis to see the balloon fly, but could not go myself. i staid at oxford till tuesday, and then came in the common vehicle easily to london. i am as i was, and having seen dr. brocklesby, am to ply the squills; but, whatever be their efficacy, this world must soon pass away. let us think seriously on our duty. i send my kindest respects to dear mrs. careless[ ]: let me have the prayers of both. we have all lived long, and must soon part. god have mercy on us, for the sake of our lord jesus christ. amen. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'london, nov. , .' his correspondence with me, after his letter on the subject of my settling in london, shall now, so far as is proper, be produced in one series:-- july , he wrote to me from ashbourne:-- 'on the th i came to lichfield, and found every body glad enough to see me. on the th, i came hither, and found a house half-built, of very uncomfortable appearance; but my own room has not been altered. that a man worn with diseases, in his seventy-second or third year, should condemn part of his remaining life to pass among ruins and rubbish, and that no inconsiderable part, appears to me very strange. i know that your kindness makes you impatient to know the state of my health, in which i cannot boast of much improvement. i came through the journey without much inconvenience, but when i attempt self-motion i find my legs weak, and my breath very short; this day i have been much disordered. i have no company; the doctor[ ] is busy in his fields, and goes to bed at nine, and his whole system is so different from mine, that we seem formed for different elements[ ]; i have, therefore, all my amusement to seek within myself.' having written to him, in bad spirits, a letter filled with dejection and fretfulness, and at the same time expressing anxious apprehensions concerning him, on account of a dream which had disturbed me; his answer was chiefly in terms of reproach, for a supposed charge of 'affecting discontent, and indulging the vanity of complaint.' it, however, proceeded,-- 'write to me often, and write like a man. i consider your fidelity and tenderness as a great part of the comforts which are yet left me, and sincerely wish we could be nearer to each other.... my dear friend, life is very short and very uncertain; let us spend it as well as we can. my worthy neighbour, allen, is dead. love me as well as you can. pay my respects to dear mrs. boswell. nothing ailed me at that time; let your superstition at last have an end.' feeling very soon, that the manner in which he had written might hurt me, he two days afterwards, july , wrote to me again, giving me an account of his sufferings; after which, he thus proceeds:-- 'before this letter, you will have had one which i hope you will not take amiss; for it contains only truth, and that truth kindly intended.... _spartam quam nactus es orna_[ ]; make the most and best of your lot, and compare yourself not with the few that are above you, but with the multitudes which are below you.... go steadily forward with lawful business or honest diversions. _be_ (as temple says of the dutchmen) _well when you are not ill, and pleased when you are not angry_[ ].... this may seem but an ill return for your tenderness; but i mean it well, for i love you with great ardour and sincerity. pay my respects to dear mrs. boswell, and teach the young ones to love me.' i unfortunately was so much indisposed during a considerable part of the year, that it was not, or at least i thought it was not in my power to write to my illustrious friend as formerly, or without expressing such complaints as offended him. having conjured him not to do me the injustice of charging me with affectation, i was with much regret long silent. his last letter to me then came, and affected me very tenderly:-- 'to james boswell, esq. 'dear sir, 'i have this summer sometimes amended, and sometimes relapsed, but, upon the whole, have lost ground, very much. my legs are extremely weak, and my breath very short, and the water is now encreasing upon me. in this uncomfortable state your letters used to relieve; what is the reason that i have them no longer? are you sick, or are you sullen? whatever be the reason, if it be less than necessity, drive it away; and of the short life that we have, make the best use for yourself and for your friends.... i am sometimes afraid that your omission to write has some real cause, and shall be glad to know that you are not sick, and that nothing ill has befallen dear mrs. boswell, or any of your family. 'i am, sir, your, &c. 'sam. johnson.' 'lichfield, nov. , .' yet it was not a little painful to me to find, that in a paragraph of this letter, which i have omitted, he still persevered in arraigning me as before, which was strange in him who had so much experience of what i suffered. i, however, wrote to him two as kind letters as i could; the last of which came too late to be read by him, for his illness encreased more rapidly upon him than i had apprehended; but i had the consolation of being informed that he spoke of me on his death-bed, with affection, and i look forward with humble hope of renewing our friendship in a better world. i now relieve the readers of this work from any farther personal notice of its authour, who if he should be thought to have obtruded himself too much upon their attention, requests them to consider the peculiar plan of his biographical undertaking. soon after johnson's return to the metropolis, both the asthma and dropsy became more violent and distressful. he had for some time kept a journal in latin of the state of his illness, and the remedies which he used, under the title of _aegri ephemeris_, which he began on the th of july, but continued it no longer than the th of november; finding, i suppose, that it was a mournful and unavailing register. it is in my possession; and is written with great care and accuracy. still his love of literature[ ] did not fail. a very few days before his death he transmitted to his friend mr. john nichols, a list of the authours of the _universal history_, mentioning their several shares in that work. it has, according to his direction, been deposited in the british museum, and is printed in the _gentleman's magazine_ for december, . during his sleepless nights he amused himself by translating into latin verse, from the greek, many of the epigrams in the anthologica[ ]. these translations, with some other poems by him in latin, he gave to his friend mr. langton, who, having added a few notes, sold them to the booksellers for a small sum, to be given to some of johnson's relations, which was accordingly done; and they are printed in the collection of his works. a very erroneous notion has circulated as to johnson's deficiency in the knowledge of the greek language, partly owing to the modesty with which, from knowing how much there was to be learnt, he used to mention his own comparative acquisitions. when mr. cumberland[ ] talked to him of the greek fragments which are so well illustrated in the observer[ ], and of the greek dramatists in general, he candidly acknowledged his insufficiency in that particular branch of greek literature. yet it may be said, that though not a great, he was a good greek scholar. dr. charles burney[ ], the younger, who is universally acknowledged by the best judges to be one of the few men of this age who are very eminent for their skill in that noble language, has assured me, that johnson could give a greek word for almost every english one; and that although not sufficiently conversant in the niceties of the language, he upon some occasions discovered, even in these, a considerable degree of critical acumen. mr. dalzel, professor of greek at edinburgh, whose skill in it is unquestionable, mentioned to me, in very liberal terms, the impression which was made upon him by johnson, in a conversation which they had in london concerning that language. as johnson, therefore, was undoubtedly one of the first latin scholars in modern times, let us not deny to his fame some additional splendour from greek[ ]. i shall now fulfil my promise[ ] of exhibiting specimens of various sorts of imitation of johnson's style. in the _transactions of the royal irish academy_, , there is an 'essay on the style of dr. samuel johnson,' by the reverend robert burrowes, whose respect for the great object of his criticism[ ] is thus evinced in the concluding paragraph:-- 'i have singled him out from the whole body of english writers, because his universally-acknowledged beauties would be most apt to induce imitation; and i have treated rather on his faults than his perfections, because an essay might comprize all the observations i could make upon his faults, while volumes would not be sufficient for a treatise on his perfections.' mr. burrowes has analysed the composition of johnson, and pointed out its peculiarities with much acuteness; and i would recommend a careful perusal of his essay to those, who being captivated by the union of perspicuity and splendour which the writings of johnson contain, without having a sufficient portion of his vigour of mind, may be in danger of becoming bad copyists of his manner. i, however, cannot but observe, and i observe it to his credit, that this learned gentleman has himself caught no mean degree of the expansion and harmony, which, independent of all other circumstances, characterise the sentences of johnson. thus, in the preface to the volume in which his essay appears, we find,-- 'if it be said that in societies of this sort, too much attention is frequently bestowed on subjects barren and speculative, it may be answered, that no one science is so little connected with the rest, as not to afford many principles whose use may extend considerably beyond the science to which they primarily belong; and that no proposition is so purely theoretical as to be totally incapable of being applied to practical purposes. there is no apparent connection between duration and the cycloidal arch, the properties of which duly attended to, have furnished us with our best regulated methods of measuring time: and he who has made himself master of the nature and affections of the logarithmick curve, is not aware that he has advanced considerably towards ascertaining the proportionable density of the air at its various distances from the surface of the earth.' the ludicrous imitators of johnson's style are innumerable. their general method is to accumulate hard words, without considering, that, although he was fond of introducing them occasionally, there is not a single sentence in all his writings where they are crowded together, as in the first verse of the following imaginary ode by him to mrs. thrale[ ], which appeared in the newspapers:-- '_cervisial coctor's viduate_ dame, _opin'st_ thou this gigantick frame, _procumbing_ at thy shrine: shall, _catenated_ by thy charms, a captive in thy _ambient_ arms, _perennially_ be thine?' this, and a thousand other such attempts, are totally unlike the original, which the writers imagined they were turning into ridicule. there is not similarity enough for burlesque, or even for caricature. mr. colman, in his _prose on several occasions_, has _a letter from lexiphanes[ ]; containing proposals for a glossary or vocabulary of the vulgar tongue: intended as a supplement to a larger dictionary_. it is evidently meant as a sportive sally of ridicule on johnson, whose style is thus imitated, without being grossly overcharged:-- 'it is easy to foresee, that the idle and illiterate will complain that i have increased their labours by endeavouring to diminish them; and that i have explained what is more easy by what is more difficult-- _ignotum per ignotius_. i expect, on the other hand, the liberal acknowledgements of the learned. he who is buried in scholastick retirement, secluded from the assemblies of the gay, and remote from the circles of the polite, will at once comprehend the definitions, and be grateful for such a seasonable and necessary elucidation of his mother-tongue.' annexed to this letter is a short specimen of the work, thrown together in a vague and desultory manner, not even adhering to alphabetical concatenation[ ]. the serious imitators of johnson's style, whether intentionally or by the imperceptible effect of its strength and animation, are, as i have had already occasion to observe, so many, that i might introduce quotations from a numerous body of writers in our language, since he appeared in the literary world. i shall point out only the following:-- william robertson, d.d.[ ] 'in other parts of the globe, man, in his rudest state, appears as lord of the creation, giving law to various tribes of animals which he has tamed and reduced to subjection. the tartar follows his prey on the horse which he has reared, or tends his numerous herds, which furnish him both with food and clothing; the arab has rendered the camel docile, and avails himself of its persevering strength; the laplander has formed the rein-deer to be subservient to his will; and even the people of kamschatka have trained their dogs to labour. this command over the inferiour creatures is one of the noblest prerogatives of man, and among the greatest efforts of his wisdom and power. without this, his dominion is incomplete. he is a monarch who has no subjects; a master without servants; and must perform every operation by the strength of his own arm[ ].' edward gibbon, esq.[ ] 'of all our passions and appetites, the love of power is of the most imperious and unsociable nature, since the pride of one man requires the submission of the multitude. in the tumult of civil discord the laws of society lose their force, and their place is seldom supplied by those of humanity. the ardour of contention, the pride of victory, the despair of success, the memory of past injuries, and the fear of future dangers, all contribute to inflame the mind, and to silence the voice of pity[ ].' miss burney[ ]. 'my family, mistaking ambition for honour, and rank for dignity, have long planned a splendid connection for me, to which, though my invariable repugnance has stopped any advances, their wishes and their views immovably adhere. i am but too certain they will now listen to no other. i dread, therefore, to make a trial where i despair of success; i know not how to risk a prayer with those who may silence me by a command[ ].' reverend mr. nares[ ]. 'in an enlightened and improving age, much perhaps is not to be apprehended from the inroads of mere caprice; at such a period it will generally be perceived, that needless irregularity is the worst of all deformities, and that nothing is so truly elegant in language as the simplicity of unviolated analogy. rules will, therefore, be observed, so far as they are known and acknowledged: but, at the same time, the desire of improvement having been once excited will not remain inactive; and its efforts, unless assisted by knowledge, as much as they are prompted by zeal, will not unfrequently be found pernicious; so that the very persons whose intention it is to perfect the instrument of reason, will deprave and disorder it unknowingly. at such a time, then, it becomes peculiarly necessary that the analogy of language should be fully examined and understood; that its rules should be carefully laid down; and that it should be clearly known how much it contains, which being already right should be defended from change and violation: how much it has that demands amendment; and how much that, for fear of greater inconveniencies, must, perhaps, be left unaltered, though irregular.' a distinguished authour in _the mirror_[ ], a periodical paper, published at edinburgh, has imitated johnson very closely. thus, in no. ,-- 'the effects of the return of spring have been frequently remarked as well in relation to the human mind as to the animal and vegetable world. the reviving power of this season has been traced from the fields to the herds that inhabit them, and from the lower classes of beings up to man. gladness and joy are described as prevailing through universal nature, animating the low of the cattle, the carol of the birds, and the pipe of the shepherd.' the reverend dr. knox[ ], master of tunbridge school, appears to have the _imitari avco_[ ] of johnson's style perpetually in his mind; and to his assiduous, though not servile, study of it, we may partly ascribe the extensive popularity of his writings[ ]. in his _essays, moral and literary_, no. , we find the following passage:-- 'the polish of external grace may indeed be deferred till the approach of manhood. when solidity is obtained by pursuing the modes prescribed by our fore-fathers, then may the file be used. the firm substance will bear attrition, and the lustre then acquired will be durable.' there is, however, one in no. , which is blown up into such tumidity, as to be truly ludicrous. the writer means to tell us, that members of parliament, who have run in debt by extravagance, will sell their votes to avoid an arrest[ ], which he thus expresses:-- 'they who build houses and collect costly pictures and furniture with the money of an honest artisan or mechanick, will be very glad of emancipation from the hands of a bailiff, by a sale of their senatorial suffrage.' but i think the most perfect imitation of johnson is a professed one, entitled _a criticism on gray's elegy in a country church-yard_, said to be written by mr. young, professor of greek, at glasgow, and of which let him have the credit, unless a better title can be shewn. it has not only the peculiarities of johnson's style, but that very species of literary discussion and illustration for which he was eminent. having already quoted so much from others, i shall refer the curious to this performance, with an assurance of much entertainment[ ]. yet whatever merit there may be in any imitations of johnson's style, every good judge must see that they are obviously different from the original; for all of them are either deficient in its force, or overloaded with its peculiarities; and the powerful sentiment to which it is suited is not to be found[ ]. johnson's affection for his departed relations seemed to grow warmer as he approached nearer to the time when he might hope to see them again. it probably appeared to him that he should upbraid himself with unkind inattention, were he to leave the world without having paid a tribute of respect to their memory. 'to mr. green[ ], apothecary, at lichfield. 'dear sir, 'i have enclosed the epitaph[ ] for my father, mother, and brother, to be all engraved on the large size, and laid in the middle aisle in st. michael's church, which i request the clergyman and churchwardens to permit. 'the first care must be to find the exact place of interment, that the stone may protect the bodies[ ]. then let the stone be deep, massy, and hard; and do not let the difference of ten pounds, or more, defeat our purpose. 'i have enclosed ten pounds, and mrs. porter will pay you ten more, which i gave her for the same purpose. what more is wanted shall be sent; and i beg that all possible haste may be made, for i wish to have it done while i am yet alive. let me know, dear sir, that you receive this. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'dec. , .' 'to mrs. lucy porter, in lichfield. 'dear madam, 'i am very ill, and desire your prayers. i have sent mr. green the epitaph, and a power to call on you for ten pounds. 'i laid this summer a stone over tetty, in the chapel of bromley, in kent[ ]. the inscription is in latin, of which this is the english. [here a translation.] 'that this is done, i thought it fit that you should know. what care will be taken of us, who can tell? may god pardon and bless us, for jesus christ's sake. 'i am, &c. 'sam. johnson[ ],' 'dec. , .' my readers are now, at last, to behold samuel johnson preparing himself for that doom, from which the most exalted powers afford no exemption to man[ ]. death had always been to him an object of terrour; so that, though by no means happy, he still clung to life with an eagerness at which many have wondered. at any time when he was ill, he was very much pleased to be told that he looked better. an ingenious member of the _eumelian club_[ ], informs me, that upon one occasion when he said to him that he saw health returning to his cheek, johnson seized him by the hand and exclaimed, 'sir, you are one of the kindest friends i ever had.' his own state of his views of futurity will appear truly rational; and may, perhaps, impress the unthinking with seriousness. 'you know, (says he,)[ ] i never thought confidence with respect to futurity, any part of the character of a brave, a wise, or a good man. bravery has no place where it can avail nothing; wisdom impresses strongly the consciousness of those faults, of which it is, perhaps, itself an aggravation; and goodness, always wishing to be better, and imputing every deficience to criminal negligence, and every fault to voluntary corruption, never dares to suppose the condition of forgiveness fulfilled, nor what is wanting in the crime supplied by penitence. 'this is the state of the best; but what must be the condition of him whose heart will not suffer him to rank himself among the best, or among the good? such must be his dread of the approaching trial, as will leave him little attention to the opinion of those whom he is leaving for ever; and the serenity that is not felt, it can be no virtue to feign.' his great fear of death, and the strange dark manner in which sir john hawkins[ ] imparts the uneasiness which he expressed on account of offences with which he charged himself, may give occasion to injurious suspicions, as if there had been something of more than ordinary criminality weighing upon his conscience. on that account, therefore, as well as from the regard to truth which he inculcated[ ], i am to mention, (with all possible respect and delicacy, however,) that his conduct, after he came to london, and had associated with savage and others, was not so strictly virtuous, in one respect, as when he was a younger man. it was well known, that his amorous inclinations were uncommonly strong and impetuous. he owned to many of his friends, that he used to take women of the town to taverns, and hear them relate their history[ ]. in short, it must not be concealed, that, like many other good and pious men, among whom we may place the apostle paul upon his own authority, johnson was not free from propensities which were ever 'warring against the law of his mind[ ],'--and that in his combats with them, he was sometimes overcome[ ]. here let the profane and licentious pause; let them not thoughtlessly say that johnson was an _hypocrite_, or that his _principles_ were not firm, because his _practice_ was not uniformly conformable to what he professed. let the question be considered independent of moral and religious association; and no man will deny that thousands, in many instances, act against conviction. is a prodigal, for example, an _hypocrite_, when he owns he is satisfied that his extravagance will bring him to ruin and misery? we are _sure_ he _believes_ it; but immediate inclination, strengthened by indulgence, prevails over that belief in influencing his conduct. why then shall credit be refused to the _sincerity_ of those who acknowledge their persuasion of moral and religious duty, yet sometimes fail of living as it requires? i heard dr. johnson once observe, 'there is something noble in publishing truth, though it condemns one's self[ ].' and one who said in his presence, 'he had no notion of people being in earnest in their good professions, whose practice was not suitable to them,' was thus reprimanded by him:--'sir, are you so grossly ignorant of human nature as not to know that a man may be very sincere in good principles, without having good practice[ ]?' but let no man encourage or soothe himself in 'presumptuous sin[ ],' from knowing that johnson was sometimes hurried into indulgences which he thought criminal. i have exhibited this circumstance as a shade in so great a character, both from my sacred love of truth, and to shew that he was not so weakly scrupulous as he has been represented by those who imagine that the sins, of which a deep sense was upon his mind, were merely such little venial trifles as pouring milk into his tea on good-friday. his understanding will be defended by my statement, if his consistency of conduct be in some degree impaired. but what wise man would, for momentary gratifications, deliberately subject himself to suffer such uneasiness as we find was experienced by johnson in reviewing his conduct as compared with his notion of the ethicks of the gospel? let the following passages be kept in remembrance:-- 'o, god, giver and preserver of all life, by whose power i was created, and by whose providence i am sustained, look down upon me with tenderness and mercy; grant that i may not have been created to be finally destroyed; that i may not be preserved to add wickedness to wickedness[ ].' 'o, lord, let me not sink into total depravity; look down upon me, and rescue me at last from the captivity of sin[ ].' 'almighty and most merciful father, who hast continued my life from year to year, grant that by longer life i may become less desirous of sinful pleasures, and more careful of eternal happiness[ ].' 'let not my years be multiplied to increase my guilt; but as my age advances, let me become more pure in my thoughts, more regular in my desires, and more obedient to thy laws[ ].' 'forgive, o merciful lord, whatever i have done contrary to thy laws. give me such a sense of my wickedness as may produce true contrition and effectual repentance; so that when i shall be called into another state, i may be received among the sinners to whom whom sorrow and reformation have obtained pardon, for jesus christ's sake. amen[ ].' such was the distress of mind, such the penitence of johnson, in his hours of privacy, and in his devout approaches to his maker. his _sincerity_, therefore, must appear to every candid mind unquestionable. it is of essential consequence to keep in view, that there was in this excellent man's conduct no false principle of _commutation_, no _deliberate_ indulgence in sin, in consideration of a counter-balance of duty. his offending, and his repenting, were distinct and separate[ ]: and when we consider his almost unexampled attention to truth, his inflexible integrity, his constant piety, who will dare to 'cast a stone at him[ ]?' besides, let it never be forgotten, that he cannot be charged with any offence indicating badness of _heart_, any thing dishonest, base, or malignant; but that, on the contrary, he was charitable in an extraordinary degree: so that even in one of his own rigid judgements of himself, (easter-eve, ,) while he says, 'i have corrected no external habits;' he is obliged to own, 'i hope that since my last communion i have advanced, by pious reflections, in my submission to god, and my benevolence to man[ ].' i am conscious that this is the most difficult and dangerous part of my biographical work, and i cannot but be very anxious concerning it. i trust that i have got through it, preserving at once my regard to truth,--to my friend,--and to the interests of virtue and religion. nor can i apprehend that more harm can ensue from the knowledge of the irregularity of johnson, guarded as i have stated it, than from knowing that addison and parnell were intemperate in the use of wine; which he himself, in his _lives_ of those celebrated writers and pious men, has not forborne to record[ ]. it is not my intention to give a very minute detail of the particulars of johnson's remaining days[ ], of whom it was now evident, that the crisis was fast approaching, when he must '_die like men, and fall like one of the princes_[ ].' yet it will be instructive, as well as gratifying to the curiosity of my readers, to record a few circumstances, on the authenticity of which they may perfectly rely, as i have been at the utmost pains to obtain an accurate account of his last illness, from the best authority[ ]. dr. heberden[ ], dr. brocklesby, dr. warren[ ], and dr. butter, physicians, generously attended him, without accepting any fees, as did mr. cruikshank, surgeon; and all that could be done from professional skill and ability, was tried, to prolong a life so truly valuable. he himself, indeed, having, on account of his very bad constitution, been perpetually applying himself to medical inquiries, united his own efforts with those of the gentlemen who attended him; and imagining that the dropsical collection of water which oppressed him might be drawn off by making incisions in his body, he, with his usual resolute defiance of pain, cut deep, when he thought that his surgeon had done it too tenderly[ ]. about eight or ten days before his death, when dr. brocklesby paid him his morning visit, he seemed very low and desponding, and said, 'i have been as a dying man all night.' he then emphatically broke out in the words of shakspeare,-- 'can'st thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; raze out the written troubles of the brain; and, with some sweet oblivious antidote, cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, which weighs upon the heart?' to which dr. brocklesby readily answered, from the same great poet:-- '----------------therein the patient must minister to himself[ ].' johnson expressed himself much satisfied with the application. on another day after this, when talking on the subject of prayer, dr. brocklesby repeated from juvenal,-- '_orandum est, ut sit mens sana in corpore sano_[ ],' and so on to the end of the tenth satire; but in running it quickly over, he happened, in the line, '_qui spatium vitae; extremum inter munera ponat_,' to pronounce _supremum_ for _extremum_; at which johnson's critical ear instantly took offence, and discoursing vehemently on the unmetrical effect of such a lapse, he shewed himself as full as ever of the spirit of the grammarian[ ]. having no near relations[ ], it had been for some time johnson's intention to make a liberal provision for his faithful servant, mr. francis barber, whom he looked upon as particularly under his protection, and whom he had all along treated truly as an humble friend. having asked dr. brocklesby what would be a proper annuity to a favourite servant, and being answered that it must depend on the circumstances of the master; and, that in the case of a nobleman, fifty pounds a year was considered as an adequate reward for many years' faithful service; 'then, (said johnson,) shall i be _nobilissimus_, for i mean to leave frank seventy pounds a year, and i desire you to tell him so[ ].' it is strange, however, to think, that johnson was not free from that general weakness of being averse to execute a will, so that he delayed it from time to time[ ]; and had it not been for sir john hawkins's repeatedly urging it, i think it is probable that his kind resolution would not have been fulfilled. after making one, which, as sir john hawkins informs us, extended no further than the promised annuity, johnson's final disposition of his property was established by a will and codicil, of which copies are subjoined[ ]. the consideration of numerous papers of which he was possessed, seems to have struck johnson's mind, with a sudden anxiety, and as they were in great confusion, it is much to be lamented that he had not entrusted some faithful and discreet person with the care and selection of them; instead of which, he in a precipitate manner, burnt large masses of them, with little regard, as i apprehend, to discrimination. not that i suppose we have thus been deprived of any compositions which he had ever intended for the publick eye; but, from what escaped the flames, i judge that many curious circumstances relating both to himself and other literary characters have perished[ ]. two very valuable articles, i am sure, we have lost, which were two quarto volumes, containing a full, fair, and most particular account of his own life, from his earliest recollection. i owned to him, that having accidentally seen them, i had read a great deal in them; and apologizing for the liberty i had taken, asked him if i could help it[ ]. he placidly answered, 'why, sir, i do not think you could have helped it.' i said that i had, for once in my life, felt half an inclination to commit theft. it had come into my mind to carry off those two volumes, and never see him more. upon my inquiring how this would have affected him, 'sir, (said he,) i believe i should have gone mad[ ].' during his last illness, johnson experienced the steady and kind attachment of his numerous friends. mr. hoole has drawn up a narrative of what passed in the visits which he paid him during that time, from the both of november to the th of december, the day of his death, inclusive, and has favoured me with a perusal of it, with permission to make extracts, which i have done. nobody was more attentive to him than mr. langton, to whom he tenderly said, _te teneam moriens deficiente manu_[ ]. and i think it highly to the honour of mr. windham, that his important occupations as an active statesman[ ] did not prevent him from paying assiduous respect to the dying sage whom he revered. mr. langton informs me, that, 'one day he found mr. burke and four or five more friends sitting with johnson. mr. burke said to him, "i am afraid, sir, such a number of us may be oppressive to you." "no, sir, (said johnson,) it is not so; and i must be in a wretched state, indeed, when your company would not be a delight to me." mr. burke, in a tremulous voice, expressive of being very tenderly affected, replied, "my dear sir, you have always been too good to me." immediately afterwards he went away. this was the last circumstance in the acquaintance of these two eminent men[ ].' the following particulars of his conversation within a few days of his death, i give on the authority of mr. john nichols[ ]:-- 'he said, that the parliamentary debates were the only part of his writings which then gave him any compunction[ ]: but that at the time he wrote them, he had no conception he was imposing upon the world, though they were frequently written from very slender materials, and often from none at all,--the mere coinage of his own imagination. he never wrote any part of his works with equal velocity. three columns of the _magazine_, in an hour, was no uncommon effort, which was faster than most persons could have transcribed that quantity. 'of his friend cave, he always spoke with great affection. "yet (said he,) cave, (who never looked out of his window, but with a view to the _gentleman's magazine_,) was a penurious pay-master; he would contract for lines by the hundred, and expect the long hundred; but he was a good man, and always delighted to have his friends at his table." 'when talking of a regular edition of his own works, he said, "that he had power, [from the booksellers,] to print such an edition, if his health admitted it; but had no power to assign over any edition, unless he could add notes, and so alter them as to make them new works; which his state of health forbade him to think of. i may possibly live, (said he,) or rather breath, three days, or perhaps three weeks; but find myself daily and gradually weaker." 'he said at another time, three or four days only before his death, speaking of the little fear he had of undergoing a chirurgical operation, "i would give one of these legs for a year more of life, i mean of comfortable life, not such as that which i now suffer;"--and lamented much his inability to read during his hours of restlessness; "i used formerly, (he added,) when sleepless in bed, _to read like a turk_[ ]." 'whilst confined by his last illness, it was his regular practice to have the church-service read to him, by some attentive and friendly divine. the rev. mr. hoole performed this kind office in my presence for the last time, when, by his own desire, no more than the litany was read; in which his responses were in the deep and sonorous voice which mr. boswell has occasionally noticed, and with the most profound devotion that can be imagined. his hearing not being quite perfect, he more than once interrupted mr. hoole, with "louder, my dear sir, louder, i entreat you, or you pray in vain[ ]!"--and, when the service was ended, he, with great earnestness, turned round to an excellent lady who was present, saying, "i thank you, madam, very heartily, for your kindness in joining me in this solemn exercise. live well, i conjure you; and you will not feel the compunction at the last, which i now feel[ ]." so truly humble were the thoughts which this great and good man entertained of his own approaches to religious perfection[ ]. 'he was earnestly invited to publish a volume of _devotional exercises_[ ]; but this, (though he listened to the proposal with much complacency, and a large sum of money was offered for it,) he declined, from motives of the sincerest modesty. 'he seriously entertained the thought of translating _thuanus_[ ]. he often talked to me on the subject; and once, in particular, when i was rather wishing that he would favour the world, and gratify his sovereign, by a life of spenser[ ], (which he said that he would readily have done, had he been able to obtain any new materials for the purpose,) he added, "i have been thinking again, sir, of _thuanus_: it would not be the laborious task which you have supposed it. i should have no trouble but that of dictation, which would be performed as speedily as an amanuensis could write." it is to the mutual credit of johnson and divines of different communions, that although he was a steady church-of-england man, there was, nevertheless, much agreeable intercourse between him and them. let me particularly name the late mr. la trobe, and mr. hutton[ ], of the moravian profession. his intimacy with the english benedictines, at paris, has been mentioned[ ]; and as an additional proof of the charity in which he lived with good men of the romish church, i am happy in this opportunity of recording his friendship with the reverend thomas hussey[ ], d.d. his catholick majesty's chaplain of embassy at the court of london, that very respectable man, eminent not only for his powerful eloquence as a preacher, but for his various abilities and acquisitions. nay, though johnson loved a presbyterian the least of all, this did not prevent his having a long and uninterrupted social connection with the reverend dr. james fordyce, who, since his death, hath gratefully celebrated him in a warm strain of devotional composition[ ]. amidst the melancholy clouds which hung over the dying johnson, his characteristical manner shewed itself on different occasions. when dr. warren, in the usual style, hoped that he was better; his answer was, 'no, sir; you cannot conceive with what acceleration i advance towards death.' a man whom he had never seen before was employed one night to sit up with him[ ]. being asked next morning how he liked his attendant, his answer was, 'not at all, sir: the fellow's an ideot; he is as aukward as a turn-spit when first put into the wheel, and as sleepy as a dormouse.' mr. windham having placed a pillow conveniently to support him, he thanked him for his kindness, and said, 'that will do,--all that a pillow can do.' he repeated[ ] with great spirit a poem, consisting of several stanzas, in four lines, in alternate rhyme, which he said he had composed some years before, on occasion of a rich, extravagant young gentleman's coming of age; saying he had never repeated it but once since he composed it, and had given but one copy of it. that copy was given to mrs. thrale, now piozzi, who has published it in a book which she entitles _british synonymy_[ ], but which is truly a collection of entertaining remarks and stories, no matter whether accurate or not. being a piece of exquisite satire, conveyed in a strain of pointed vivacity and humour, and in a manner of which no other instance is to be found in johnson's writings, i shall here insert it[ ]:-- long-expected one-and-twenty, ling'ring year, at length is flown; pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty, great --- ----[ ], are now your own. loosen'd from the minor's tether, free to mortgage or to sell, wild as wind, and light as feather, bid the sons of thrift farewell. call the betseys, kates, and jennies, all the names that banish care; lavish of your grandsire's guineas, shew the spirit of an heir. all that prey on vice or folly joy to see their quarry fly; there the gamester, light and jolly, there the lender, grave and sly. wealth, my lad, was made to wander, let it wander as it will; call the jockey, call the pander, bid them come and take their fill. when the bonny blade carouses, pockets full, and spirits high-- what are acres? what are houses? only dirt, or wet or dry. should the guardian friend or mother tell the woes of wilful waste; scorn their counsel, scorn their pother,-- you can hang or drown at last. as he opened a note which his servant brought to him, he said, 'an odd thought strikes me: we shall receive no letters in the grave[ ].' he requested three things of sir joshua reynolds:--to forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him; to read the bible; and never to use his pencil on a sunday[ ]. sir joshua readily acquiesced[ ]. indeed he shewed the greatest anxiety for the religious improvement of his friends, to whom he discoursed of its infinite consequence. he begged of mr. hoole to think of what he had said, and to commit it to writing: and, upon being afterwards assured that this was done, pressed his hands, and in an earnest tone thanked him. dr. brocklesby having attended him with the utmost assiduity and kindness as his physician and friend, he was peculiarly desirous that this gentleman should not entertain any loose speculative notions, but be confirmed in the truths of christianity, and insisted on his writing down in his presence, as nearly as he could collect it, the import of what passed on the subject: and dr. brocklesby having complied with the request, he made him sign the paper, and urged him to keep it in his own custody as long as he lived[ ]. johnson, with that native fortitude, which, amidst all his bodily distress and mental sufferings, never forsook him, asked dr. brocklesby, as a man in whom he had confidence, to tell him plainly whether he could recover. 'give me (said he) a direct answer.' the doctor having first asked him if he could bear the whole truth, which way soever it might lead, and being answered that he could, declared that, in his opinion, he could not recover without a miracle. 'then, (said johnson,) i will take no more physick, not even my opiates; for i have prayed that i may render up my soul to god unclouded.' in this resolution he persevered, and, at the same time, used only the weakest kinds of sustenance. being pressed by mr. windham to take somewhat more generous nourishment, lest too low a diet should have the very effect which he dreaded, by debilitating his mind, he said, 'i will take any thing but inebriating sustenance[ ].' the reverend mr. strahan, who was the son of his friend, and had been always one of his great favourites, had, during his last illness, the satisfaction of contributing to soothe and comfort him. that gentleman's house, at islington, of which he is vicar, afforded johnson, occasionally and easily, an agreeable change of place and fresh air; and he attended also upon him in town in the discharge of the sacred offices of his profession. mr. strahan has given me the agreeable assurance, that, after being in much agitation, johnson became quite composed, and continued so till his death[ ]. dr. brocklesby, who will not be suspected of fanaticism, obliged me with the following accounts:-- 'for some time before his death, all his fears were calmed and absorbed by the prevalence of his faith, and his trust in the merits and _propitiation_ of jesus christ. 'he talked often to me about the necessity of faith in the _sacrifice_ of jesus, as necessary beyond all good works whatever, for the salvation of mankind. 'he pressed me to study dr. clarke and to read his sermons. i asked him why he pressed dr. clarke, an arian[ ]. "because, (said he,) he is fullest on the _propitiatory sacrifice_."' johnson having thus in his mind the true christian scheme, at once rational and consolatory, uniting justice and mercy in the divinity, with the improvement of human nature, previous to his receiving the holy sacrament in his apartment, composed and fervently uttered this prayer[ ]:-- 'almighty and most merciful father, i am now as to human eyes, it seems, about to commemorate, for the last time, the death of thy son jesus christ, our saviour and redeemer. grant, o lord, that my whole hope and confidence may be in his merits, and thy mercy; enforce and accept my imperfect repentance; make this commemoration available to the confirmation of my faith, the establishment of my hope, and the enlargement of my charity; and make the death of thy son jesus christ effectual to my redemption. have mercy upon me, and pardon the multitude of my offences. bless my friends; have mercy upon all men. support me, by thy holy spirit, in the days of weakness, and at the hour of death; and receive me, at my death, to everlasting happiness, for the sake of jesus christ. amen.' having, as has been already mentioned, made his will on the th and th of december, and settled all his worldly affairs, he languished till monday, the th of that month, when he expired, about seven o'clock in the evening, with so little apparent pain that his attendants hardly perceived when his dissolution took place. of his last moments, my brother, thomas david[ ], has furnished me with the following particulars:-- 'the doctor, from the time that he was certain his death was near, appeared to be perfectly resigned[ ], was seldom or never fretful or out of temper, and often said to his faithful servant, who gave me this account, "attend, francis, to the salvation of your soul, which is the object of greatest importance:" he also explained to him passages in the scripture, and seemed to have pleasure in talking upon religious subjects. 'on monday, the th of december, the day on which he died, a miss morris[ ], daughter to a particular friend of his, called, and said to francis, that she begged to be permitted to see the doctor, that she might earnestly request him to give her his blessing. francis went into his room, followed by the young lady, and delivered the message. the doctor turned himself in the bed, and said, "god bless you, my dear!" these were the last words he spoke. his difficulty of breathing increased till about seven o'clock in the evening, when mr. barber and mrs. desmoulins, who were sitting in the room, observing that the noise he made in breathing had ceased, went to the bed, and found he was dead[ ].' about two days after his death, the following very agreeable account was communicated to mr. malone, in a letter by the honourable john byng, to whom i am much obliged for granting me permission to introduce it in my work. 'dear sir, 'since i saw you, i have had a long conversation with cawston[ ], who sat up with dr. johnson, from nine o'clock, on sunday evening, till ten o'clock, on monday morning. and, from what i can gather from him, it should seem, that dr. johnson was perfectly composed, steady in hope, and resigned to death. at the interval of each hour, they assisted him to sit up in his bed, and move his legs, which were in much pain; when he regularly addressed himself to fervent prayer; and though, sometimes, his voice failed him, his senses never did, during that time. the only sustenance he received, was cyder and water. he said his mind was prepared, and the time to his dissolution seemed long. at six in the morning, he enquired the hour, and, on being informed, said that all went on regularly, and he felt he had but a few hours to live. 'at ten o'clock in the morning, he parted from cawston, saying, "you should not detain mr. windham's servant:--i thank you; bear my remembrance to your master." cawston says, that no man could appear more collected, more devout, or less terrified at the thoughts of the approaching minute. 'this account, which is so much more agreeable than, and somewhat different from, yours, has given us the satisfaction of thinking that that great man died as he lived, full of resignation, strengthened in faith, and joyful in hope.' a few days before his death, he had asked sir john hawkins, as one of his executors, where he should be buried; and on being answered, 'doubtless, in westminster-abbey,' seemed to feel a satisfaction, very natural to a poet; and indeed in my opinion very natural to every man of any imagination, who has no family sepulchre in which he can be laid with his fathers. accordingly, upon monday, december , his remains were deposited in that noble and renowned edifice; and over his grave was placed a large blue flag-stone, with this inscription:-- 'samuel johnson, ll.d. _obiit_ xiii _die decembris_, _anno domini_ m. dcc. lxxxiv. aetatis suoe_ lxxv.' his funeral was attended by a respectable number of his friends, particularly such of the members of the literary club as were then in town; and was also honoured with the presence of several of the reverend chapter of westminster. mr. burke, sir joseph banks, mr. windham, mr. langton, sir charles bunbury, and mr. colman, bore his pall[ ]. his schoolfellow, dr. taylor, performed the mournful office of reading the burial service[ ]. i trust, i shall not be accused of affectation, when i declare, that i find myself unable to express all that i felt upon the loss of such a 'guide[ ], philosopher, and friend[ ].' i shall, therefore, not say one word of my own, but adopt those of an eminent friend[ ], which he uttered with an abrupt felicity, superior to all studied compositions:--'he has made a chasm, which not only nothing can fill up, but which nothing has a tendency to fill up. johnson is dead. let us go to the next best:--there is nobody; no man can be said to put you in mind of johnson[ ].' as johnson had abundant homage paid to him during his life[ ], so no writer in this nation ever had such an accumulation of literary honours after his death. a sermon upon that event was preached in st. mary's church, oxford, before the university, by the reverend mr. agutter, of magdalen college[ ]. the _lives_, the _memoirs_, the _essays_, both in prose and verse, which have been published concerning him, would make many volumes. the numerous attacks too upon him, i consider as part of his consequence, upon the principle which he himself so well knew and asserted[ ]. many who trembled at his presence, were forward in assault, when they no longer apprehended danger. when one of his little pragmatical foes was invidiously snarling at his fame, at sir joshua reynolds's table, the reverend dr. parr exclaimed, with his usual bold animation, 'ay, now that the old lion is dead, every ass thinks he may kick at him.' a monument for him, in westminster abbey, was resolved upon soon after his death, and was supported by a most respectable contribution[ ]; but the dean and chapter of st. paul's having come to a resolution of admitting monuments there, upon a liberal and magnificent plan, that cathedral was afterwards fixed on, as the place in which a cenotaph should be erected to his memory[ ]: and in the cathedral of his native city of lichfield, a smaller one is to be erected. to compose his epitaph, could not but excite the warmest competition of genius[ ]. if _laudari à laudato viro_ be praise which is highly estimable[ ], i should not forgive myself were i to omit the following sepulchral verses on the authour of the english dictionary, written by the right honourable henry flood[ ]:-- 'no need of latin or of greek to grace our johnson's memory, or inscribe his grave; his native language claims this mournful space, to pay the immortality he gave.' the character of samuel johnson has, i trust, been so developed in the course of this work, that they who have honoured it with a perusal, may be considered as well acquainted with him. as, however, it may be expected that i should collect into one view the capital and distinguishing features of this extraordinary man, i shall endeavour to acquit myself of that part of my biographical undertaking[ ], however difficult it may be to do that which many of my readers will do better for themselves. his figure was large and well formed, and his countenance of the cast of an ancient statue; yet his appearance was rendered strange and somewhat uncouth, by convulsive cramps, by the scars of that distemper which it was once imagined the royal touch could cure, and by a slovenly mode of dress. he had the use only of one eye; yet so much does mind govern and even supply the deficiency of organs, that his visual perceptions, as far as they extended, were uncommonly quick and accurate[ ]. so morbid was his temperament, that he never knew the natural joy of a free and vigorous use of his limbs: when he walked, it was like the struggling gait of one in fetters; when he rode, he had no command or direction of his horse, but was carried as if in a balloon[ ]. that with his constitution and habits of life he should have lived seventy-five years, is a proof that an inherent _vivida vis_[ ] is a powerful preservative of the human frame. man is, in general, made up of contradictory qualities; and these will ever shew themselves in strange succession, where a consistency in appearance at least, if not in reality, has not been attained by long habits of philosophical discipline. in proportion to the native vigour of the mind, the contradictory qualities will be the more prominent, and more difficult to be adjusted; and, therefore, we are not to wonder, that johnson exhibited an eminent example of this remark which i have made upon human nature. at different times, he seemed a different man, in some respects; not, however, in any great or essential article, upon which he had fully employed his mind, and settled certain principles of duty, but only in his manners, and in the display of argument and fancy in his talk. he was prone to superstition, but not to credulity. though his imagination might incline him to a belief of the marvellous and the mysterious, his vigorous reason examined the evidence with jealousy[ ]. he was a sincere and zealous christian, of high church-of-england and monarchical principles, which he would not tamely suffer to be questioned; and had, perhaps, at an early period, narrowed his mind somewhat too much, both as to religion and politicks. his being impressed with the danger of extreme latitude in either, though he was of a very independent spirit, occasioned his appearing somewhat unfavourable to the prevalence of that noble freedom of sentiment which is the best possession of man. nor can it be denied, that he had many prejudices; which, however, frequently suggested many of his pointed sayings, that rather shew a playfulness of fancy than any settled malignity. he was steady and inflexible in maintaining the obligations of religion and morality; both from a regard for the order of society, and from a veneration for the great source of all order; correct, nay stern in his taste; hard to please, and easily offended[ ]; impetuous and irritable in his temper, but of a most humane and benevolent heart[ ], which shewed itself not only in a most liberal charity, as far as his circumstances would allow, but in a thousand instances of active benevolence. he was afflicted with a bodily disease, which made him often restless and fretful; and with a constitutional melancholy, the clouds of which darkened the brightness of his fancy, and gave a gloomy cast to his whole course of thinking: we, therefore, ought not to wonder at his sallies of impatience and passion at any time; especially when provoked by obtrusive ignorance, or presuming petulance; and allowance must be made for his uttering hasty and satirical sallies even against his best friends. and, surely, when it is considered, that, 'amidst sickness and sorrow[ ],'he exerted his faculties in so many works for the benefit of mankind, and particularly that he atchieved the great and admirable dictionary of our language, we must be astonished at his resolution. the solemn text, 'of him to whom much is given, much will be required[ ],' seems to have been ever present to his mind, in a rigorous sense, and to have made him dissatisfied with his labours and acts of goodness, however comparatively great; so that the unavoidable consciousness of his superiority was, in that respect, a cause of disquiet. he suffered so much from this, and from the gloom which perpetually haunted him, and made solitude frightful, that it may be said of him, 'if in this life only he had hope, he was of all men most miserable[ ].' he loved praise, when it was brought to him; but was too proud to seek for it. he was somewhat susceptible of flattery. as he was general and unconfined in his studies, he cannot be considered as master of any one particular science; but he had accumulated a vast and various collection of learning and knowledge, which was so arranged in his mind, as to be ever in readiness to be brought forth. but his superiority over other learned men consisted chiefly in what may be called the art of thinking, the art of using his mind; a certain continual power of seizing the useful substance of all that he knew, and exhibiting it in a clear and forcible manner; so that knowledge, which we often see to be no better than lumber in men of dull understanding, was, in him, true, evident, and actual wisdom. his moral precepts are practical; for they are drawn from an intimate acquaintance with human nature. his maxims carry conviction; for they are founded on the basis of common sense, and a very attentive and minute survey of real life. his mind was so full of imagery, that he might have been perpetually a poet; yet it is remarkable, that, however rich his prose is in this respect, his poetical pieces, in general, have not much of that splendour, but are rather distinguished by strong sentiment and acute observation, conveyed in harmonious and energetick verse, particularly in heroick couplets. though usually grave, and even aweful, in his deportment, he possessed uncommon and peculiar powers of wit and humour; he frequently indulged himself in colloquial pleasantry; and the heartiest merriment[ ] was often enjoyed in his company; with this great advantage, that as it was entirely free from any poisonous tincture of vice or impiety, it was salutary to those who shared in it. he had accustomed himself to such accuracy in his common conversation[ ], that he at all times expressed his thoughts with great force, and an elegant choice of language, the effect of which was aided by his having a loud voice, and a slow deliberate utterance[ ]. in him were united a most logical head with a most fertile imagination, which gave him an extraordinary advantage in arguing: for he could reason close or wide, as he saw best for the moment. exulting in his intellectual strength and dexterity, he could, when he pleased, be the greatest sophist that ever contended in the lists of declamation; and, from a spirit of contradiction and a delight in shewing his powers, he would often maintain the wrong side with equal warmth and ingenuity; so that, when there was an audience, his real opinions could seldom be gathered from his talk[ ]; though when he was in company with a single friend, he would discuss a subject with genuine fairness: but he was too conscientious to make errour permanent and pernicious, by deliberately writing it; and, in all his numerous works, he earnestly inculcated what appeared to him to be the truth; his piety being constant, and the ruling principle of all his conduct[ ]. such was samuel johnson, a man whose talents, acquirements, and virtues, were so extraordinary, that the more his character is considered, the more he will be regarded by the present age, and by posterity, with admiration and reverence[ ]. appendix a. (_page_ , _note_ .) there are at least three accounts of this altercation and three versions of the lines. two of these versions nearly agree. the earliest is found in a letter by richard burke, senior, dated jan. , (_burke corres_. i. ); the second in _the annual register_ for , p. ; and the third in miss reynolds's _recollections_ (croker's _boswell_, vo. p. ). r. burke places the scene in reynolds's house. whether he himself was present is not clear. 'the dean,' he says, 'asserted that after forty-five a man did not improve. "i differ with you, sir," answered johnson; "a man may improve, and you yourself have great room for improvement." the dean was confounded, and for the instant silent. recovering, he said, "on recollection i see no cause to alter my opinion, except i was to call it improvement for a man to grow (which i allow he may) positive, rude, and insolent, and save arguments by brutality."' neither the _annual register_ nor miss reynolds reports the dean's speech. but she says that 'soon after the ladies withdrew, dr. johnson followed them, and sitting down by the lady of the house [that is by herself, if they were at sir joshua's] he said, "i am very sorry for having spoken so rudely to the dean." "you very well may, sir." "yes," he said, "it was highly improper to speak in that style to a minister of the gospel, and i am the more hurt on reflecting with what mild dignity he received it."' if johnson really spoke of the dean's _mild dignity_, it is clear that richard burke's account is wrong. but it was written just after the scene, and boswell says there was 'a pretty smart altercation.' miss reynolds continues:--'when the dean came up into the drawing-room, dr. johnson immediately rose from his seat, and made him sit on the sofa by him, and with such a beseeching look for pardon and with such fond gestures--literally smoothing down his arms and his knees,' &c. the _annual register_ says that barnard the next day sent the verses addressed to 'sir joshua reynolds & co.' on the next page i give richard burke's version of the lines, and show the various readings. miss reynold's richard burke's version. _annual register_ version i lately thought no man alive could e'er improve past forty-five, and ventured to assert it; the observation was not new, but seem'd to me so just and true, that none could controvert it. 'no, sir,' says johnson, ''tis not so; 'tis _that's_ your mistake, and i can show an instance, if you doubt it; you who perhaps are _you, sir, who are near_ forty-eight, still may _much_ improve, 'tis not too late; i wish you'd set about it.' encouraged thus to mend my faults, i turn'd his counsel in my thoughts, could which way i _should_ apply it: genius i knew was _learning and wit seem'd_ past my reach, what none can for who can learn _where none will_ teach? when and wit--i could not buy it. then come, my friends, and try your skill, may you _can improve me, if you will; inform (my books are at a distance). with you i'll live and learn; and then instead of books i shall read men, _so_ lend me your assistance. to dear knight of plympton[ ], teach me how unclouded to suffer with _unruffled_ brow, as and smile serene _like_ thine, and the jest uncouth _or_ truth severe, like thee to turn _to such apply_ my deafest ear, to such and calmly drink my wine. i'll turn thou say'st, not only skill is gain'd, attained but genius too may be _obtain'd_, attained invitation by studious _imitation_; thy temper mild, thy genius fine, study i'll _copy_ till i make _them_ mine, thee meditation by constant _application_. thy art of pleasing teach me, garrick, reverest (_sic_) thou who _reversest_ odes pindarick[ ], a second time read o'er; oh! could we read thee backwards too, past _last_ thirty years thou shouldst review, and charm us thirty more. if i have thoughts and can't express 'em, gibbon shall teach me how to dress 'em in terms select and terse; jones teach me modesty--and greek; smith how to think; _burke_ how to speak, burk and beauclerk to converse. let johnson teach me how to place in fairest light each borrowed grace, from him i'll learn to write; free and easy copy his _clear and easy_ style, clear and from the roughness of his file, familiar like grow _as_ himself--polite.' like horace walpole, on dec. , , speaks of these verses as if they were fresh. 'they are an answer,' he writes, 'to a gross brutality of dr. johnson, to which a properer answer would have been to fling a glass of wine in his face. i have no patience with an unfortunate monster trusting to his helpless deformity for indemnity for any impertinence that his arrogance suggests, and who thinks that what he has read is an excuse for everything he says.' horace walpole's _letters,_ vi. . it is strange that walpole should be so utterly ignorant of johnson's courage and bodily strength. the date of walpole's letter makes me suspect that richard burke dated his jan. , (he should have written ), and that the blunder of a copyist has changed into . appendix b. (_page_ .) had boswell continued the quotation from priestley's _illustrations of philosophical necessity_ he would have shown that though priestley could not _hate_ the rioters, he could very easily _prosecute_ them. he says:-- 'if as a necessarian i cease to _blame_ men for their vices in the ultimate sense of the word, though, in the common and proper sense of it, i continue to do as much as other persons (for how necessarily soever they act, they are influenced by a base and mischievous disposition of mind, against which i must guard myself and others in proportion as i love myself and others),' &c. priestley's _works_, iii. . of his interview with johnson, priestley, in his _appeal to the public_, part ii, published in (_works_, xix. ), thus writes, answering 'the impudent falsehood that when i was at oxford dr. johnson left a company on my being introduced to it':-- 'in fact we never were at oxford at the same time, and the only interview i ever had with him was at mr. paradise's, where we dined together at his own request. he was particularly civil to me, and promised to call upon me the next time he should go through birmingham. he behaved with the same civility to dr. price, when they supped together at dr. adams's at oxford. several circumstances show that dr. johnson had not so much of bigotry at the decline of life as had distinguished him before, on which account it is well known to all our common acquaintance, that i declined all their pressing solicitations to be introduced to him.' priestley expresses himself ill, but his meaning can be made out. parr answered boswell in the march number of the _gent. mag._ for , p. . but the evidence that he brings is rendered needless by priestley's positive statement. may peace henceforth fall on 'priestley's injured name.' (mrs. barbauld's _poems_, ii. .) when boswell asserts that johnson 'was particularly resolute in not giving countenance to men whose writings he considered as pernicious to society,' he forgets that that very summer of he had been willing to dine at wilkes's house (_ante_, p. , note ). dr. franklin (_memoirs_, ed. , iii. ) wrote to dr. price in :--'it is said that scarce anybody but yourself and dr. priestley possesses the art of knowing how to differ decently.' gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ), describing in the honestest members of the french assembly, calls them 'a set of wild visionaries, like our dr. price, who gravely debate, and dream about the establishment of a pure and perfect democracy of five and twenty millions, the virtues of the golden age, and the primitive rights and equality of mankind.' admiration of price made samuel rogers, when a boy, wish to be a preacher. 'i thought there was nothing on earth so _grand_ as to figure in a pulpit. dr. price lived much in the society of lord lansdowne [earl of shelburne] and other people of rank; and his manners were extremely polished. in the pulpit he was great indeed.' rogers's _table talk_, p. . the full title of the tract mentioned by boswell is, _a small whole-length of dr. priestley from his printed works_. it was published in , and is a very poor piece of writing. johnson had refused to meet the abbé raynal, the author of the _histoire philosophique et politique du commerce des deux indes_, when he was over in england in . mrs. chapone, writing to mrs. carter on june of that year, says:-- 'i suppose you have heard a great deal of the abbé raynal, who is in london. i fancy you would have served him as dr. johnson did, to whom when mrs. vesey introduced him, he turned from him, and said he had read his book, and would have nothing to say to him.' mrs. chapone's _posthumous works_, i. . see walpole's _letters_, v. , and vi. . his book was burnt by the common hangman in paris. carlyle's _french revolution_, ed. , i. . appendix c. (_page _.) hawkins gives the two following notes:-- 'dear sir, 'as mr. ryland was talking with me of old friends and past times, we warmed ourselves into a wish, that all who remained of the club should meet and dine at the house which once was horseman's, in ivy-lane. i have undertaken to solicit you, and therefore desire you to tell on what day next week you can conveniently meet your old friends. 'i am, sir, 'your most humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'bolt-court, nov. , .' 'dear sir, 'in perambulating ivy-lane, mr. ryland found neither our landlord horseman, nor his successor. the old house is shut up, and he liked not the appearance of any near it; he therefore bespoke our dinner at the queen's arms, in st. paul's church-yard, where, at half an hour after three, your company will be desired to-day by those who remain of our former society. 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' 'dec. .' four met--johnson, hawkins, ryland, and payne (_ante_, i. ). 'we dined,' hawkins continues, 'and in the evening regaled with coffee. at ten we broke up, much to the regret of johnson, who proposed staying; but finding us inclined to separate, he left us with a sigh that seemed to come from his heart, lamenting that he was retiring to solitude and cheerless meditation.' hawkins's _johnson_, p. . hawkins is mistaken in saying that they had a second meeting at a tavern at the end of a month; for johnson, on march , , wrote:-- 'i have been confined from the fourteenth of december, and know not when i shall get out.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . he thus describes these meetings:-- 'dec. . i dined about a fortnight ago with three old friends; we had not met together for thirty years, and one of us thought the other grown very old. in the thirty years two of our set have died; our meeting may be supposed to be somewhat tender.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'jan. , . i had the same old friends to dine with me on wednesday, and may say that since i lost sight of you i have had one pleasant day.' ib. p. . 'april , . yesterday i had the pleasure of giving another dinner to the remainder of the old club. we used to meet weekly, about the year fifty, and we were as cheerful as in former times; only i could not make quite so much noise, for since the paralytick affliction my voice is sometimes weak.' ib. p. . 'april , . the people whom i mentioned in my letter are the remnant of a little club that used to meet in ivy-lane about three and thirty years ago, out of which we have lost hawkesworth and dyer; the rest are yet on this side the grave. our meetings now are serious, and i think on all parts tender.' ib. . see _ante_, i. , note . appendix d. (_page _.) it is likely that sir joshua reynolds refused to join the essex head club because he did not wish to meet barry. not long before this time he had censured barry's delay in entering upon his duties as professor of painting. 'barry answered:--"if i had no more to do in the composition of my lectures than to produce such poor flimsy stuff as your discourses, i should soon have done my work, and be prepared to read." it is said this speech was delivered with his fist clenched, in a menacing posture.' (northcote's _life of reynolds_, ii. .) the hon. daines barrington was the author of an _essay on the migration of birds_ (_ante_, ii. ) and of _observations on the statutes_ (_ante_, iii. ). horace walpole wrote on nov. , (_letters_, vii. ):-- 'i am sorry for the dean of exeter; if he dies i conclude the leaden mace of the antiquarian society will be given to judge barrington.' (he was 'second justice of chester.') for dr. brocklesby see _ante_, pp. , , , . of mr. john nichols, murphy says that 'his attachment to dr. johnson was unwearied.' _life of johnson_, p. . he was the printer of _the lives of the poets_ (_ante_, p. ), and the author of _biographical and literary anecdotes of william bowyer, printer_, 'the last of the learned printers,' whose apprentice he had been (_ante_, p. ). horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) says:-- 'i scarce ever saw a book so correct as mr. nichols's _life of mr. bowyer_. i wish it deserved the pains he has bestowed on it every way, and that he would not dub so many men _great_. i have known several of his _heroes_, who were very _little_ men.' the _life of bowyer_ being recast and enlarged was republished under the title of _literary anecdotes of the eighteenth century_. from till his death in the _gentleman's magazine_ was in great measure in his hands. southey, writing in , says:-- 'i have begun to take in here at keswick the _gentleman's magazine_, _alias_ the _oldwomania_, to enlighten a portuguese student among the mountains; it does amuse me by its exquisite inanity, and the glorious and intense stupidity of its correspondents; it is, in truth, a disgrace to the age and the country.' southey's _life and correspondence_, ii. . mr. william cooke, 'commonly called conversation cooke,' wrote _lives of macklin and foote_. forster's _essays_, ii. , and _gent. mag._ , p. . mr. richard paul joddrel, or jodrell, was the author of _the persian heroine, a tragedy_, which, in baker's _biog. dram._ i. , is wrongly assigned to sir r.p. jodrell, m.d. nichols's _lit. anec._ ix. . for mr. paradise see _ante_, p. , note . dr. horsley was the controversialist, later on bishop of st. david's and next of rochester. gibbon makes splendid mention of him (_misc. works_, i. ) when he tells how 'dr. priestley's socinian shield has repeatedly been pierced by the mighty spear of horsley.' windham, however, in his _diary_ in one place (p. ) speaks of him as having his thoughts 'intent wholly on prospects of church preferment;' and in another place (p. ) says that 'he often lays down with great confidence what turns out afterwards to be wrong.' in the house of lords he once said that 'he did not know what the mass of the people in any country had to do with the laws but to obey them.' _parl. hist_. xxxii. . thurlow rewarded him for his _letters to priestley_ by a stall at gloucester, 'saying that "those who supported the church should be supported by it."' campbell's _chancellors_, ed. , v. . for mr. windham, see _ante_, p. . hawkins (_life of johnson_, p. ) thus writes of the formation of the club:-- 'i was not made privy to this his intention, but all circumstances considered, it was no matter of surprise to me when i heard that the great dr. johnson had, in the month of december , formed a sixpenny club at an ale-house in essex-street, and that though some of the persons thereof were persons of note, strangers, under restrictions, for three pence each night might three nights in a week hear him talk and partake of his conversation.' miss hawkins (_memoirs_, i. ) says:-- 'boswell was well justified in his resentment of my father's designation of this club as a sixpenny club, meeting at an ale-house. ... honestly speaking, i dare say my father did not like being passed over.' sir joshua reynolds, writing of the club, says:-- 'any company was better than none; by which johnson connected himself with many mean persons whose presence he could command. for this purpose he established a club at a little ale-house in essex-street, composed of a strange mixture of very learned and very ingenious odd people. of the former were dr. heberden, mr. windham, mr. boswell, mr. steevens, mr. paradise. those of the latter i do not think proper to enumerate.' taylor's _life of reynolds_, ii. . it is possible that reynolds had never seen the essex head, and that the term 'little ale-house' he had borrowed from hawkins's account. possibly too his disgust at barry here found vent. murphy (_life of johnson_, p. ) says:-- 'the members of the club were respectable for their rank, their talents, and their literature.' the 'little ale-house' club saw one of its members, alderman clarke (_ante_, p. ), lord mayor within a year; another, horsley, a bishop within five years; and a third, windham, secretary at war within ten years. nichols (_literary anecdotes_, ii. ) gives a list of the 'constant members' at the time of johnson's death. appendix e. (page .) miss burney's account of johnson's last days is interesting, but her dates are confused more even than is common with her. i have corrected them as well as i can. 'dec. . he will not, it seems, be talked to--at least very rarely. at times indeed he re-animates; but it is soon over and he says of himself:--"i am now like macbeth--question enrages me."' 'dec. . at night my father brought us the most dismal tidings of dear dr. johnson. he had thanked and taken leave of all his physicians. alas! i shall lose him, and he will take no leave of me. my father was deeply depressed. i hear from everyone he is now perfectly resigned to his approaching fate, and no longer in terror of death.' 'dec. . my father in the morning saw this first of men. he was up and very composed. he took his hand very kindly, asked after all his family, and then in particular how fanny did. "i hope," he said, "fanny did not take it amiss that i did not see her. i was very bad. tell fanny to pray for me." after which, still grasping his hand, he made a prayer for himself, the most fervent, pious, humble, eloquent, and touching, my father says, that ever was composed. oh! would i had heard it! he ended it with amen! in which my father joined, and was echoed by all present; and again, when my father was leaving him, he brightened up, something of his arch look returned, and he said: "i think i shall throw the ball at fanny yet."' 'dec. . [miss burney called at bolt-court.] all the rest went away but a mrs. davis, a good sort of woman, whom this truly charitable soul had sent for to take a dinner at his house. [see _ante_, p. , note .] mr. langton then came. he could not look at me, and i turned away from him. mrs. davis asked how the doctor was. "going on to death very fast," was his mournful answer. "has he taken," said she, "anything?" "nothing at all. we carried him some bread and milk--he refused it, and said:--'the less the better.'"' 'dec. . this day was the ever-honoured, ever-lamented dr. johnson committed to the earth. oh, how sad a day to me! my father attended. i could not keep my eyes dry all day; nor can i now in the recollecting it; but let me pass over what to mourn is now so vain.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. - . appendix f. (_notes on boswell's note on pages - _.) [f- ] in a letter quoted in mr. croker's boswell, p. , dr. johnson calls thomas johnson 'cousin,' and says that in the last sixteen months he had given him £ . he mentions his death in . _piozzi letters_, ii. . [f- ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that elizabeth herne was johnson's first-cousin, and that he had constantly--how long he does not say--contributed £ towards her maintenance. [f- ] for mauritius lowe, see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [f- ] to mr. windham, two days earlier, he had given a copy of the _new testament_, saying:--'extremum hoc munus morientis habeto.' windham's _diary_, p. . [f- ] for mrs. gardiner see _ante_, i. . [f- ] mr. john desmoulins was the son of mrs. desmoulins (_ante_, iii. , ), and the grandson of johnson's god-father, dr. swinfen (_ante_, i. ). johnson mentions him in a letter to mrs. thrale in . 'young desmoulins is taken in an _under-something_ of drury lane; he knows not, i believe, his own denomination.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [f- ] the reference is to _the rambler_, no. (not as boswell says), where johnson mentions 'those vexations and anxieties with which all human enjoyments are polluted.' [f- ] bishop sanderson described his soul as 'infinitely polluted with sin.' walton's _lives_, ed. , p. . [f- ] hume, writing in about his _essays moral and political_, says:-- 'innys, the great bookseller in paul's church-yard, wonders there is not a new edition, for that he cannot find copies for his customers.' j.h. burton's _hume_, i. . [f- ] nichols (_lit. anec._ ii. ) says that, on dec. , 'johnson asked him whether any of the family of faden the printer were living. being told that the geographer near charing cross was faden's son, he said, after a short pause:--"i borrowed a guinea of his father near thirty years ago; be so good as to take this, and pay it for me."' [f- ] nowhere does hawkins more shew the malignancy of his character than in his attacks on johnson's black servant, and through him on johnson. with the passage in which this offensive _caveat_ is found he brings his work to a close. at the first mention of frank (_life_, p. ) he says:-- 'his first master had _in great humanity_ made him a christian, and his last for no assignable reason, nay rather in despite of nature, and to unfit him for being useful according to his capacity, determined to make him a scholar.' but hawkins was a brutal fellow. see _ante_, i. , note , and , note . [f- ] johnson had written to taylor on oct. of this year:-- '"coming down from a very restless night i found your letter, which made me a little angry. you tell me that recovery is in my power. this indeed i should be glad to hear if i could once believe it. but you mean to charge me with neglecting or opposing my own health. tell me, therefore, what i do that hurts me, and what i neglect that would help me." this letter is endorsed by taylor: "this is the last letter. my answer, which were (_sic_) the words of advice he gave to mr. thrale the day he dyed, he resented extremely from me."' mr. alfred morrison's _collection of autographs_, &c., ii. . 'the words of advice' which were given to mr. thrale _the day before_ the fatal fit seized him, were that he should abstain from full meals. _ante_, iv. , note . johnson's resentment of taylor's advice may account for the absence of his name in his will. [f- ] they were sold in lots, in a four days' sale. besides the books there were portraits, of which were framed and glazed. these prints in their frames were sold in lots of , , and even together, though certainly some of them--and perhaps many--were engravings from reynolds. the catalogue of the sale is in the bodleian library. appendix g. (_notes on boswell's note on page _.) [g- ] mrs. piozzi records (_anecdotes_, p. ) that johnson told her,-- 'when boyse was almost perishing with hunger, and some money was produced to purchase him a dinner, he got a bit of roast beef, but could not eat it without ketch-up; and laid out the last half-guinea he possessed in truffles and mushrooms, eating them in bed too, for want of clothes, or even a shirt to sit up in.' hawkins (_life_, p. ) gives as the year of boyse's destitution. 'he was,' he says, 'confined to a bed which had no sheets; here, to procure food, he wrote; his posture sitting up in bed, his only covering a blanket, in which a hole was made to admit of the employment of his arm.' two years later boyse wrote the following verses to cave from a spunging-house:-- 'hodie, teste coelo summo, sine pane, sine nummo, sorte positus infeste, scribo tibi dolens moeste. fame, bile tumet jecur: urbane, mitte opem, precor. tibi enim cor humanum non a malis alienum: mihi mens nee male grato, pro a te favore dato. ex gehenna debitoria, vulgo, domo spongiatoria.' he adds that he hopes to have his _ode on the british nation_ done that day. this _ode_, which is given in the _gent. mag._ , p. , contains the following verse, which contrasts sadly with the poor poet's case:-- 'thou, sacred isle, amidst thy ambient main, _enjoyst the sweets of freedom_ all thy own.' [g- ] it is not likely that johnson called a sixpence 'a serious consideration.' he who in his youth would not let his comrades say _prodigious_ (_ante/_, in. ) was not likely in his old age so to misuse a word. [g- ] hugh kelly is mentioned _ante_, ii. , note , and iii. . [g- ] it was not on the return from sky, but on the voyage from sky to rasay, that the spurs were lost. _post_, v. . [g- ] dr. white's _bampton lectures_ of 'became part of the triumphant literature of the university of oxford,' and got the preacher a christ church canonry. of these _lectures_ dr. parr had written about one-fifth part. white, writing to parr about a passage in the manuscript of the last lecture, said:--'i fear i did not clearly explain myself; i humbly beg the favour of you to make my meaning more intelligible.' on the death of mr. badcock in , a note for £ from white was found in his pocket-book. white pretended that this was remuneration for some other work; but it was believed on good grounds that badcock had begun what parr had completed, and that these famous _lectures_ were mainly their work. badcock was one of the writers in the _monthly review_. johnstone's _life of dr. parr_, i. - . for badcock's correspondence with the editor of the _monthly review_, see _bodleian_ ms. _add._ c. . [g- ] 'virgilium vidi tantum.' ovid, _tristia_, iv. . . [g- ] mackintosh says of priestley:--'frankness and disinterestedness in the avowal of his opinion were his point of honour.' he goes on to point out that there was 'great mental power in him wasted and scattered.' _life of mackintosh_, i. . see _ante_, ii. , and iv. for johnson's opinion of priestley. [g- ] badcock, in using the term 'index-scholar,' was referring no doubt to pope's lines:-- 'how index-learning turns no student pale, yet holds the eel of science by the tail.' _dunciad_, i. . appendix h. (_notes on boswell's note on pages - _.) [h- ] the last lines of the inscription on this urn are borrowed, with a slight change, from the last paragraph of the last _rambler/_. (johnson's _works_, iii. , and _ante_, i. .) johnson visited colonel myddelton on august , , in his tour to wales. see _post_, v. . [h- ] johnson, writing to dr. taylor on sept. , , said:--'i sat to opey (sic) as long as he desired, and i think the head is finished, but it is not much admired.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . hawkins (_life of johnson_, p. ) says that in 'johnson resumed sitting to opie, but,' he adds, 'i believe the picture was never finished.' [h- ] of this picture, which was the one painted for beauclerk (_ante_, p. ), it is stated in johnson's _work_, ed. , xi. , that 'there is in it that appearance of a labouring working mind, of an indolent reposing body, which he had to a very great degree.' [h- ] it seems almost certain that the portrait of johnson in the common room of university college, oxford, is this very mezzotinto. it was given to the college by sir william scott, and it is a mezzotinto from opie's portrait. it has been reproduced for this work, and will be found facing page of volume iii. scott's inscription on the back of the frame is given on page , note , of the same volume. appendix i. (_page_ .) boswell most likely never knew that in the year mr. seward, in the name of cadell the publisher, had asked parr to write a _life of johnson_. (johnstone's _life of parr_, iv. .) parr, in his amusing vanity, was as proud of this _life_ as if he had written it. '"it would have been," he said, "the third most learned work that has ever yet appeared. the most learned work ever published i consider bentley _on the epistles of phalaris_; the next salmasius _on the hellenistic language_." alluding to boswell's life he continued, "mine should have been, not the droppings of his lips, but the history of his mind."' field's _life of parr_, i. . in the epitaph that he first sent in were found the words 'probabili poetae.' 'in arms,' wrote parr, 'were all the johnsonians: malone, steevens, sir w. scott, windham, and even fox, all in arms. the epithet was cold. they do not understand it, and i am a scholar, not a belles-lettres man.' parr had wished to pass over all notice of johnson's poetical character. to this, malone said, none of his friends of the literary club would agree. he pointed out also that parr had not noticed 'that part of johnson's genius, which placed him on higher ground than perhaps any other quality that can be named--the universality of his knowledge, the promptness of his mind in producing it on all occasions in conversation, and the vivid eloquence with which he clothed his thoughts, however suddenly called upon.' parr, regardless of johnson's rule that 'in lapidary inscriptions a man is not upon oath' (_ante_, ii. ), replied, that if he mentioned his conversation he should have to mention also his roughness in contradiction, &c. as for the epithet _probabili_, he 'never reflected upon it without almost a triumphant feeling in its felicity.' nevertheless he would change it into 'poetae sententiarum et verborum ponderibus admirabili.' yet these words, 'energetic and sonorous' though they were, 'fill one with a secret and invincible loathing, because they tend to introduce into the epitaph a character of magnificence.' with every fresh objection he rose in importance. he wrote for the approbation of real scholars of generations yet unborn. 'that the epitaph was written by such or such a man will, from the publicity of the situation, and the popularity of the subject, be long remembered.' johnstone's _life of parr_, iv. - . no objection seems to have been raised to the five pompous lines of perplexing dates and numerals in which no room is found even for johnson's birth and birth-place. 'after i had written the epitaph,' wrote parr to a friend, 'sir joshua reynolds told me there was a scroll. i was in a rage. a scroll! why, ned, this is vile modern contrivance. i wanted one train of ideas. what could i do with the scroll? johnson held it, and johnson must speak in it. i thought of this, his favourite maxim, in the life of milton, [johnson's _works_, vii. ], "[greek: otti toi en megaroisi kakon t agathon te tetuktai.]." in homer [_odyssey_, iv. ] you know--and shewing the excellence of moral philosophy. there johnson and socrates agree. mr. seward, hearing of my difficulty, and no scholar, suggested the closing line in the _rambler_ [_ante_, i. , note ]; had i looked there i should have anticipated the suggestion. it is the closing line in dionysius's _periegesis_, "[greek: anton ek makaron antaxios eiae amoibae.]." i adopted it, and gave seward the praise. "oh," quoth sir william scott, "_[greek: makaron]_ is heathenish, and the dean and chapter will hesitate." "the more fools they," said i. but to prevent disputes i have altered it. "[greek: en makaressi ponon antaxios ein amoibae]." johnstone's _life of parr_, iv. . though the inscription on the scroll is not strictly speaking part of the epitaph, yet this mixture of greek and latin is open to the censure johnson passed on pope's epitaph on craggs. 'it may be proper to remark,' he said, 'the absurdity of joining in the same inscription latin and english, or verse and prose. if either language be preferable to the other, let that only be used; for no reason can be given why part of the information should be given in one tongue and part in another on a tomb more than in any other place, or on any other occasion.' johnson's _works_, viii. . bacon the sculptor was anxious, wrote malone, 'that posterity should know that he was entitled to annex r.a. to his name.' parr was ready to give his name, lest if it were omitted 'bacon should slily put the figure of a hog on johnson's monument'; just as 'saurus and batrachus, when octavia would not give them leave to set their names on the temples they had built in rome, scattered one of them [greek: saurai] [lizards], and the other [greek: batrachoi] [frogs] on the bases and capitals of the columns.' but as for the r.a., the sculptor 'very reluctantly had to agree to its omission.' johnstone's _parr_, iv. and . footnotes: [ ] nothing can compensate for this want this year of all years. johnson's health was better than it had been for long, and his mind happier perhaps than it had ever been. the knowledge that in his _lives of the poets_, he had done, and was doing good work, no doubt was very cheering to him. at no time had he gone more into society, and at no time does he seem to have enjoyed it with greater relish. 'how do you think i live?' he wrote on april . 'on thursday, i dined with hamilton, and went thence to mrs. ord. on friday, with much company at reynolds's. on saturday, at dr. bell's. on sunday, at dr. burney's; at night, came mrs. ord, mr. greville, &c. on monday with reynolds, at night with lady lucan; to-day with mr. langton; to-morrow with the bishop of st. asaph; on thursday with mr. bowles; friday ----; saturday, at the academy; sunday with mr. ramsay.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . on may , he wrote:--'at mrs. ord's, i met one mrs. b---- [buller], a travelled lady, of great spirit, and some consciousness of her own abilities. we had a contest of gallantry an hour long, so much to the diversion of the company that at ramsay's last night, in a crowded room, they would have pitted us again. there were smelt, [one of the king's favourites] and the bishop of st. asaph, who comes to every place; and lord monboddo, and sir joshua, and ladies out of tale.' _ib_. p. . the account that langton gives of the famous evening at mrs. vesey's, 'when the company began to collect round johnson till they became not less than four, if not five deep (_ante_, may , ), is lively enough; but 'the particulars of the conversation' which he neglects, boswell would have given us in full. [ ] in , miss burney, after recording that boswell told some of his johnsonian stories, continues:--'mr. langton told some stories in imitation of dr. johnson; but they became him less than mr. boswell, and only reminded me of what dr. johnson himself once said to me--"every man has some time in his life an ambition to be a wag."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, v. . [ ] _stephanorum historia, vitas ipsorum ac libros complectens_. london, . [ ] _senilia_ was published in . the line to which johnson refers is, 'mel, nervos, fulgur, carteret, unus, habes,' p. . in another line, the poet celebrates colley cibber's muse--the _musa cibberi_: 'multa cibberum levat aura.' p. . see macaulay's essays, ed. , i. . [ ] _graecae linguae dialecti in scholae westmonast. usum_, . [ ] giannone, an italian historian, born , died . when he published his _history of the kingdom of naples_, a friend congratulating him on its success, said:--'mon ami, vous vous êtes mis une couronne sur la tête, mais une couronne d'épines.' his attacks on the church led to persecution, in the end he made a retractation, but nevertheless he died in prison. _nouv. biog. gén._ xx. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'there is no kind of impertinence more justly censurable than his who is always labouring to level thoughts to intellects higher than his own; who apologises for every word which his own narrowness of converse inclines him to think unusual; keeps the exuberance of his faculties under visible restraint; is solicitous to anticipate inquiries by needless explanations; and endeavours to shade his own abilities lest weak eyes should be dazzled with their lustre.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] johnson, in his _dictionary_, defines _anfractuousness_ as _fulness of windings and turnings_. _anfractuosity_ is not given. lord macaulay, in the last sentence in his _biography of johnson_, alludes to this passage. [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] 'my purpose was to admit no testimony of living authors, that i might not be misled by partiality, and that none of my contemporaries might have reason to complain; nor have i departed from this resolution, but when some performance of uncommon excellence excited my veneration, when my memory supplied me from late books with an example that was wanting, or when my heart, in the tenderness of friendship, solicited admission for a favourite name.' johnson's _works_, v. . he cites himself under _important_, mrs. lennox under _talent_, garrick under _giggler_; from richardson's _clarissa_, he makes frequent quotations. in the fourth edition, published in (_ante_, ii. ), he often quotes reynolds; for instance, under _vulgarism_, which word is not in the previous editions. beattie he quotes under _weak_, and gray under _bosom_. he introduces also many quotations from law, and young. in the earlier editions, in his quotations from _clarissa_, he very rarely gives the author's name; in the fourth edition i have found it rarely omitted. [ ] in one of his _hypochondriacks_ (_london mag._ , p. ) boswell writes:--'i have heard it remarked by one, of whom more remarks deserve to be remembered than of any person i ever knew, that a man is often as narrow as he is prodigal for want of counting.' [ ] 'sept. . we began talking of _irene_, and mrs. thrale made dr. johnson read some passages which i had been remarking as uncommonly applicable to the present time. he read several speeches, and told us he had not ever read so much of it before since it was first printed.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . 'i was told,' wrote sir walter scott, 'that a gentleman called pot, or some such name, was introduced to him as a particular admirer of his. the doctor growled and took no further notice. "he admires in especial your _irene_ as the finest tragedy modern times;" to which the doctor replied, "if pot says so, pot lies!" and relapsed into his reverie.' _croker corres._ ii. . [ ] _scrupulosity_ was a word that boswell had caught up from johnson. sir w. jones (_life_, i. ) wrote in :--'you will be able to examine with the minutest _scrupulosity_, as johnson would call it.' johnson describes addison's prose as 'pure without scrupulosity.' _works_, vii. . 'swift,' he says, 'washed himself with oriental scrupulosity.' _ib._ viii. . boswell (_hebrides_, aug. ) writes of 'scrupulosity of conscience.' [ ] 'when thou didst not, savage, know thine own meaning, but wouldst gabble like a thing most brutish, i endow'd thy purposes with words that made them known.' _the tempest_, act i. sc. . [ ] secretary to the british herring fishery, remarkable for an extraordinary number of occasional verses, not of eminent merit. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note i. lockman was known in france as the translator of voltaire's _la henriade_. see marmontel's preface. voltaire's _works_, ed. , viii. . [ ] _luke_ vii. . boswell. [ ] miss burney, describing him in , says:--'he looks unformed in his manners and awkward in his gestures. he joined not one word in the general talk.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] by garrick. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, under sept. , . [ ] the actor. churchill introduces him in _the rosciad_ (_poems_, i. ):--'next holland came. with truly tragic stalk, he creeps, he flies. a hero should not walk.' [ ] in a letter written by johnson to a friend in - , he says: 'i never see garrick.' malone. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _the wonder! a woman keeps a secret_, by mrs. centlivre. acted at drury lane in . revived by garrick in . reed's _biog. dram_. iii. . [ ] in _macbeth_. [ ] mr. longley was recorder of rochester, and father of archbishop longley. to the kindness of his grand-daughter, mrs. newton smart, i owe the following extract from his manuscript _autobiography_:--'dr. johnson and general paoli came down to visit mr. langton, and i was asked to meet them, when the conversation took place mentioned by boswell, in which johnson gave me more credit for knowledge of the greek metres than i deserved. there was some question about anapaestics, concerning which i happened to remember what foster used to tell us at eton, that the whole line to the _basis anapaestica_ was considered but as one verse, however divided in the printing, and consequently the syllables at the end of each line were not common, as in other metres. this observation was new to johnson, and struck him. had he examined me farther, i fear he would have found me ignorant. langton was a very good greek scholar, much superior to johnson, to whom nevertheless he paid profound deference, sometimes indeed i thought more than he deserved. the next day i dined at langton's with johnson, i remember lady rothes [langton's wife] spoke of the advantage children now derived from the little books published purposely for their instruction. johnson controverted it, asserting that at an early age it was better to gratify curiosity with wonders than to attempt planting truth, before the mind was prepared to receive it, and that therefore, _jack the giant-killer, parisenus and parismenus_, and _the seven champions of christendom_ were fitter for them than mrs. barbauld and mrs. trimmer.' mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says:--'dr. johnson used to condemn me for putting newbery's books into children's hands. "babies do not want," said he, "to hear about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds." when i would urge the numerous editions of _tommy prudent_ or _goody two shoes_; "remember always," said he, "that the parents buy the books, and that the children never read them.'" for johnson's visit to rochester, see _post_, july, . [ ] see _post_, beginning of , after _the life of swift_, and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] see _ante_, under sept. , . [ ] johnson wrote of this grotto (_works_, viii. ):--'it may be frequently remarked of the studious and speculative that they are proud of trifles, and that their amusements seem frivolous and childish.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] _epilogue to the satires_, i. . dr. james foster, the nonconformist preacher. johnson mentions 'the reputation which he had gained by his proper delivery.' _works_, viii. . in _the conversations of northcote_, p. , it is stated that 'foster first became popular from the lord chancellor hardwicke stopping in the porch of his chapel in the old jewry out of a shower of rain: and thinking he might as well hear what was going on he went in, and was so well pleased that he sent all the great folks to hear him, and he was run after as much as irving has been in our time.' dr. t. campbell (_diary_, p. ) recorded in , that 'when mrs. thrale quoted something from foster's _sermons_, johnson flew in a passion, and said that foster was a man of mean ability, and of no original thinking.' gibbon (_misc. works_, v. ) wrote of foster:--'wonderful! a divine preferring reason to faith, and more afraid of vice than of heresy.' [ ] it is believed to have been her play of _the sister_, brought out in . 'the audience expressed their disapprobation of it with so much appearance of prejudice that she would not suffer an attempt to exhibit it a second time.' _gent. mag._ xxxix. . it is strange, however, if goldsmith was asked to hiss a play for which he wrote the epilogue. goldsmith's _misc. works_, ii. . johnson wrote on oct. , (_piozzi letters_, ii. ):--'c---- l---- accuses ---- of making a party against her play. i always hissed away the charge, supposing him a man of honour; but i shall now defend him with less confidence.' baretti, in a marginal note, says that c---- l---- is 'charlotte lennox.' perhaps ---- stands for cumberland. miss burney said that 'mr. cumberland is notorious for hating and envying and spiting all authors in the dramatic line.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , johnson describes rascals such as this man. 'they hurried away to the theatre, full of malignity and denunciations against a man whose name they had never heard, and a performance which they could not understand; for they were resolved to judge for themselves, and would not suffer the town to be imposed upon by scribblers. in the pit they exerted themselves with great spirit and vivacity; called out for the tunes of obscene songs, talked loudly at intervals of shakespeare and jonson,' &c. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] dr. percy told malone 'that they all at the club had such a high opinion of mr. dyer's knowledge and respect for his judgment as to appeal to him constantly, and that his sentence was final.' malone adds that 'he was so modest and reserved, that he frequently sat silent in company for an hour, and seldom spoke unless appealed to. goldsmith, who used to rattle away upon _all_ subjects, had been talking somewhat loosely relative to music. some one wished for mr. dyer's opinion, which he gave with his usual strength and accuracy. "why," said goldsmith, turning round to dyer, whom he had scarcely noticed before, "you seem to know a good deal of this matter." "if i had not," replied dyer, "i should not, in this company, have said a word upon the subject."' burke described him as 'a man of profound and general erudition; his sagacity and judgment were fully equal to the extent of his learning.' prior's _malone_, pp. , . malone in his _life of dryden_, p. , says that dyer was _junius_. johnson speaks of him as 'the late learned mr. dyer.' _works_, viii. . had he been alive he was to have been the professor of mathematics in the imaginary college at st. andrews. boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . many years after his death, johnson bought his portrait to hang in 'a little room that he was fitting up with prints.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] _memoirs of agriculture and other oeconomical arts_, vols., by robert dossie, london, - . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] here lord macartney remarks, 'a bramin or any cast of the hindoos will neither admit you to be of their religion, nor be converted to yours;--a thing which struck the portuguese with the greatest astonishment, when they first discovered the east indies.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, aug. , . [ ] john, lord carteret, and earl granville, who died jan. , . it is strange that he wrote so ill; for lord chesterfield says (_misc. works_, iv. _appendix_, p. ) that 'he had brought away with him from oxford, a great stock of greek and latin, and had made himself master of all the modern languages. he was one of the best speakers in the house of lords, both in the declamatory and argumentative way.' [ ] walpole describes the partiality of the members of the court-martial that sat on admiral keppel in jan. . one of them 'declared frankly that he should not attend to forms of law, but to justice.' so friendly were the judges to the prisoner that 'it required the almost unanimous voice of the witnesses in favour of his conduct, and the vile arts practised against him, to convince all mankind how falsely and basely he had been accused.' walpole, referring to the members, speaks of 'the feelings of seamen unused to reason.' some of the leading politicians established themselves at portsmouth during the trial. _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in all gray's _odes_, there is a kind of cumbrous splendour which we wish away.... the mind of the writer seems to work with unnatural violence. "double, double, toil and trouble." he has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking on tip-toe. his art and his struggle are too visible, and there is too little appearance of ease and nature.' johnson's _works_, viii. - . see _ante_, i. , and ii. , . [ ] one evening, in the haymarket theatre, 'when foote lighted the king to his chair, his majesty asked who [sic] the piece was written by? "by one of your majesty's chaplains," said foote, unable even then to suppress his wit; "and dull enough to have been written by a bishop."' forster's _essays_, ii. . see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] bk. v. ch. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note ; boswell's _hebrides_, aug. , and oct. . [ ] the correspondent of _the gentleman's magazine_ [ , p. ] who subscribes himself sciolus furnishes the following supplement:-- 'a lady of my acquaintance remembers to have heard her uncle sing those homely stanzas more than forty-five years ago. he repeated the second thus:-- she shall breed young lords and ladies fair, and ride abroad in a coach and three pair, and the best, &c. and have a house, &c. and remembered a third which seems to have been the introductory one, and is believed to have been the only remaining one:-- when the duke of leeds shall have made his choice of a charming young lady that's beautiful and wise, she'll be the happiest young gentlewoman under the skies, as long as the sun and moon shall rise, and how happy shall, &c. it is with pleasure i add that this stanza could never be more truly applied than at this present time. boswell. this note was added to the second edition. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'johnson was a real _true-born englishman_. he hated the scotch, the french, the dutch, the hanoverians, and had the greatest contempt for all other european nations; such were his early prejudices which he never attempted to conquer.' reynolds wrote of johnson:--'the prejudices he had to countries did not extend to individuals. in respect to frenchmen he rather laughed at himself, but it was insurmountable. he considered every foreigner as a fool till they had convinced him of the contrary.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . garrick wrote of the french in :--'their _politesse_ has reduced their character to such a sameness, and their humours and passions are so curbed by habit, that, when you have seen half-a-dozen french men and women, you have seen the whole.' _garrick corres_. i. . [ ] 'there is not a man or woman here,' wrote horace walpole from paris (_letters_ iv. ), 'that is not a perfect old nurse, and who does not talk gruel and anatomy with equal fluency and ignorance.' [ ] '"i remember that interview well," said dr. parr with great vehemence when once reminded of it; "i gave him no quarter." the subject of our dispute was the liberty of the press. dr. johnson was very great. whilst he was arguing, i observed that he stamped. upon this i stamped. dr. johnson said, "why did you stamp, dr. parr?" i replied, "because you stamped; and i was resolved not to give you the advantage even of a stamp in the argument."' this, parr said, was by no means his first introduction to johnson. field's _parr_, i. . parr wrote to romilly in :--'pray let me ask whether you have ever read some admirable remarks of mr. hutcheson upon the word _merit_. i remember a controversy i had with dr. johnson upon this very term: we began with theology fiercely, i gently carried the conversation onward to philosophy, and after a dispute of more than three hours he lost sight of my heresy, and came over to my opinion upon the metaphysical import of the term.' _life of romilly_, ii. . when parr was a candidate for the mastership of colchester grammar school, johnson wrote for him a letter of recommendation. johnstone's _parr_, i. . [ ] 'somebody was praising corneille one day in opposition to shakespeare. "corneille is to shakespeare," replied mr. johnson, "as a clipped hedge is to a forest."' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] johnson, it is clear, discusses here mrs. montagu's _essay on shakespeare_. she compared shakespeare first with corneille, and then with aeschylus. in contrasting the ghost in _hamlet_ with the shade of darius in _the persians_, she says:--'the phantom, who was to appear ignorant of what was past, that the athenian ear might be soothed and flattered with the detail of their victory at salamis, is allowed, for the same reason, such prescience as to foretell their future triumph at plataea.' p. . [ ] caution is required in everything which is laid before youth, to secure them from unjust prejudices, perverse opinions, and incongruous combinations of images. in the romances formerly written, every transaction and sentiment was so remote from all that passes among men, that the reader was in very little danger of making any applications to himself.' _the rambler_, no. . [ ] johnson says of pope's _ode for st. cecilia's day_:--'the next stanzas place and detain us in the dark and dismal regions of mythology, where neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow can be found.' _works_, viii. . of gray's _progress of poetry_, he says:--'the second stanza, exhibiting mars' car and jove's eagle, is unworthy of further notice. criticism disdains to chase a school-boy to his common-places.' _ib_. p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'a wizard-dame, the lover's ancient friend, with magic charm has deaft thy husband's ear, at her command i saw the stars descend, and winged lightnings stop in mid career, &c.' hammond. _elegy_, v. in boswell's _hebrides_ (sept. ), he said 'hammond's _love elegies_ were poor things.' [ ] perhaps lord corke and orrery. _ante_, iii. . croker. [ ] colman assumed that johnson had maintained that shakespeare was totally ignorant of the learned languages. he then quotes a line to prove 'that the author of _the taming of the shrew_ had at least read ovid;' and continues:--'and what does dr. johnson say on this occasion? nothing. and what does mr. farmer say on this occasion? nothing.' colman's _terence_, ii. . for farmer, see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'it is most likely that shakespeare had learned latin sufficiently to make him acquainted with construction, but that he never advanced to an easy perusal of the roman authors.' johnson's _works_, v. . 'the style of shakespeare was in itself ungrammatical, perplexed, and obscure.' _ib_. p. . [ ] 'may i govern my passion with an absolute sway, and grow wiser and better, as my strength wears away, without gout or stone by a gentle decay.' _the old man's wish_ was sung to sir roger de coverley by 'the fair one,' after the collation in which she ate a couple of chickens, and drank a full bottle of wine. _spectator_, no. . 'what signifies our wishing?' wrote dr. franklin. 'i have sung that _wishing song_ a thousand times when i was young, and now find at fourscore that the three contraries have befallen me, being subject to the gout and the stone, and not being yet master of all my passions.' franklin's _memoirs_, iii. . [ ] he uses the same image in _the life of milton_ (_works_, vii. ):--'he might still be a giant among the pigmies, the one-eyed monarch of the blind.' cumberland (_memoirs_, i. ) says that bentley, hearing it maintained that barnes spoke greek almost like his mother tongue, replied:--'yes, i do believe that barnes had as much greek and understood it about as well as an athenian blacksmith.' see _ante_, iii . a passage in wooll's _life of dr. warton_ (i. ) shews that barnes attempted to prove that homer and solomon were one and the same man. but i. d'israeli says that it was reported that barnes, not having money enough to publish his edition of _homer_, 'wrote a poem, the design of which is to prove that solomon was the author of the _iliad_, to interest his wife, who had some property, to lend her aid towards the publication of so divine a work.' _calamities of authors_, i. . [ ] 'the first time suard saw burke, who was at reynolds's, johnson touched him on the shoulder and said, "le grand burke."' _boswelliana_, p. . see ante, ii. . [ ] miss hawkins (_memoirs_, i. , ) says that langton told her father that he meant to give his six daughters such a knowledge of greek, 'that while five of them employed themselves in feminine works, the sixth should read a greek author for the general amusement.' she describes how 'he would get into the most fluent recitation of half a page of greek, breaking off for fear of wearying, by saying, "and so it goes on," accompanying his words with a gentle wave of his hand.' [ ] see post, p. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] this assertion concerning johnson's insensibility to the pathetick powers of otway, is too _round_. i once asked him, whether he did not think otway frequently tender: when he answered, 'sir, he is all tenderness.' burney. he describes otway as 'one of the first names in the english drama.' _works_, vii. . [ ] see ante, april , . [ ] johnson; it seems, took up this study. in july, , he recorded that between easter and whitsuntide, he attempted to learn the low dutch language. 'my application,' he continues, 'was very slight, and my memory very fallacious, though whether more than in my earlier years, i am not very certain.' _pr. and med._ p. , and ante, ii. . on his death-bed, he said to mr. hoole:--'about two years since i feared that i had neglected god, and that then i had not a _mind_ to give him; on which i set about to read _thomas à kempis_ in low dutch, which i accomplished, and thence i judged that my mind was not impaired, low dutch having no affinity with any of the languages which i knew.' croker's _boswell_, p. . see ante, iii. . [ ] see post, under july , . [ ] see ante, ii. , and iii. . [ ] one of goldsmith's friends 'remembered his relating [about the year ] a strange quixotic scheme he had in contemplation of going to decipher the inscriptions on the _written mountains_, though he was altogether ignorant of arabic, or the language in which they might be supposed to be written.' goldsmith's _misc. works_, ed. , i. . percy says that goldsmith applied to the prime minister, lord bute, for a salary to enable him to execute 'the visionary project' mentioned in the text. 'to prepare the way, he drew up that ingenious essay on this subject which was first printed in the _ledger_, and afterwards in his _citizen of the world_ [no. ].' _ib_. p. . percy adds that the earl of northumberland, who was lord lieutenant of ireland, regretted 'that he had not been made acquainted with his plan; for he would have procured him a sufficient salary on the irish establishment.' goldsmith, in his review of van egmont's _travels in asia_, says:--'could we see a man set out upon this journey [to asia] not with an intent to consider rocks and rivers, but the manners, and the mechanic inventions, and the imperfect learning of the inhabitants; resolved to penetrate into countries as yet little known, and eager to pry into all their secrets, with an heart not terrified at trifling dangers; if there could be found a man who could unite this true courage with sound learning, from such a character we might hope much information.' goldsmith's _works_, ed. , iv. . johnson would have gone to constantinople, as he himself said, had he received his pension twenty years earlier. _post_, p. . [ ] it should be remembered, that this was said twenty-five or thirty years ago, [written in ,] when lace was very generally worn. malone. 'greek and latin,' said porson, 'are only luxuries.' rogers's _table talk_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] dr. johnson, in his _life of cowley_, says, that these are 'the only english verses which bentley is known to have written.' i shall here insert them, and hope my readers will apply them. 'who strives to mount parnassus' hill, and thence poetick laurels bring, must first acquire due force and skill, must fly with swan's or eagle's wing. who nature's treasures would explore, her mysteries and arcana know; must high as lofty newton soar, must stoop as delving woodward low. who studies ancient laws and rites, tongues, arts, and arms, and history; must drudge, like selden, days and nights, and in the endless labour die. who travels in religious jars, (truth mixt with errour, shades with rays;) like whiston, wanting pyx or stars, in ocean wide or sinks or strays. but grant our hero's hope, long toil and comprehensive genius crown, all sciences, all arts his spoil, yet what reward, or what renown? envy, innate in vulgar souls, envy steps in and stops his rise, envy with poison'd tarnish fouls his lustre, and his worth decries. he lives inglorious or in want, to college and old books confin'd; instead of learn'd he's call'd pedant, dunces advanc'd, he's left behind: yet left content a genuine stoick he, great without patron, rich without south sea.' boswell. in mr. croker's octavo editions, _arts_ in the fifth stanza is changed into _hearts_. j. boswell, jun., gives the following reading of the first four lines of the last stanza, not from _dodsley's collection_, but from an earlier one, called _the grove_. 'inglorious or by wants inthralled, to college and old books confined, a pedant from his learning called, dunces advanced, he's left behind.' [ ] bentley, in the preface to his edition of _paradise lost_, says:-- 'sunt et mihi carmina; me quoque dicunt vatem pastores: sed non ego credulus illis.' [ ] the difference between johnson and smith is apparent even in this slight instance. smith was a man of extraordinary application, and had his mind crowded with all manner of subjects; but the force, acuteness, and vivacity of johnson were not to be found there. he had book-making so much in his thoughts, and was so chary of what might be turned to account in that way, that he once said to sir joshua reynolds, that he made it a rule, when in company, never to talk of what he understood. beauclerk had for a short time a pretty high opinion of smith's conversation. garrick, after listening to him for a while, as to one of whom his expectations had been raised, turned slyly to a friend, and whispered him, 'what say you to this?--eh? _flabby_, i think.' boswell. dr. a. carlyle (_auto_. p. ), says:--'smith's voice was harsh and enunciation thick, approaching to stammering. his conversation was not colloquial, but like lecturing. he was the most absent man in company that i ever saw, moving his lips, and talking to himself, and smiling in the midst of large companies. if you awaked him from his reverie and made him attend to the subject of conversation, he immediately began a harangue, and never stopped till he told you all he knew about it, with the utmost philosophical ingenuity.' dugald stewart (_life of adam smith_, p. ) says that 'his consciousness of his tendency to absence rendered his manner somewhat embarrassed in the company of strangers.' but 'to his intimate friends, his peculiarities added an inexpressible charm to his conversation, while they displayed in the most interesting light the artless simplicity of his heart.' _ib_. p. . see also walpole's _letters_, vi. , and _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] garrick himself was a good deal of an infidel: see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] _ante_, i. . [ ] the tempest, act iv. sc. i. in _the rambler_, no. , johnson writes of men who have 'borne opposition down before them, and left emulation panting behind.' he quotes (_works_, vii. ) the following couplet by dryden:-- 'fate after him below with pain did move, and victory could scarce keep pace above.' young in _the last day_, book i, had written:-- 'words all in vain pant after the distress.' [ ] i am sorry to see in the _transactions of the royal society of edinburgh_, vol. ii, _an essay on the character of hamlet_, written, i should suppose, by a very young man, though called 'reverend;' who speaks with presumptuous petulance of the first literary character of his age. amidst a cloudy confusion of words, (which hath of late too often passed in scotland for _metaphysicks_,) he thus ventures to criticise one of the noblest lines in our language:--'dr. johnson has remarked, that "time toil'd after him in vain." but i should apprehend, that this is _entirely to mistake the character_. time toils after _every great man_, as well after shakspeare. the _workings_ of an ordinary mind _keep pace_, indeed, with time; they move no faster; _they have their beginning, their middle, and their end_; but superiour natures can _reduce these into a point_. they do not, indeed, _suppress_ them; but they _suspend_, or they _lock them up in the breast_.' the learned society, under whose sanction such gabble is ushered into the world, would do well to offer a premium to any one who will discover its meaning. boswell. [ ] 'may , . took boat and to fox-hall, where i had not been a great while. to the old spring garden, and there walked long.' pepys's _diary_, i. . the place was afterwards known as faux-hall and vauxhall. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar.' _king lear_, act ii. sc. . [ ] yet w.g. hamilton said:--'burke understands everything but gaming and music. in the house of commons i sometimes think him only the second man in england; out of it he is always the first.' prior's _burke_, p. . see _ante_, ii. . bismarck once 'rang the bell' to old prince metternich. 'i listened quietly,' he said, 'to all his stories, merely jogging the bell every now and then till it rang again. that pleases these talkative old men.' dr. busch, quoted in lowe's _prince bismarck_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for his disapproval of 'studied behaviour.' [ ] johnson had perhaps dr. warton in mind. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] 'oblivion is a kind of annihilation.' sir thomas browne's _christian morals_, sect. xxi. [ ] 'nec te quaesiveris extra.' persius, _sat_. i. . we may compare milton's line, 'in himself was all his state.' _paradise lost_, v. . [ ] see _ante,_ iii. . [ ] 'a work of this kind must, in a minute examination, discover many imperfections; but west's version, so far as i have considered it, appears to be the product of great labour and great abilities.' johnson's _works,_ viii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides,_ aug. , . [ ] see _ante,_ i. , and ii. . [ ] see _ante,_ i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. . [ ] a literary lady has favoured me with a characteristick anecdote of richardson. one day at his country-house at northend, where a large company was assembled at dinner, a gentleman who was just returned from paris, willing to please mr. richardson, mentioned to him a very flattering circumstance,--that he had seen his _clarissa_ lying on the king's brother's table. richardson observing that part of the company were engaged in talking to each other, affected then not to attend to it. but by and by, when there was a general silence, and he thought that the flattery might be fully heard, he addressed himself to the gentleman, 'i think, sir, you were saying something about,--' pausing in a high flutter of expectation. the gentleman provoked at his inordinate vanity, resolved not to indulge it, and with an exquisitely sly air of indifference answered, 'a mere trifle sir, not worth repeating.' the mortification of richardson was visible, and he did not speak ten words more the whole day. dr. johnson was present, and appeared to enjoy it much. boswell. [ ] 'e'en in a bishop i can spy desert; seeker is decent, rundel has a heart.' pope, _epil. to sat_. ii. . horace walpole wrote on aug. , (letters, v. ):--'we have lost our pope. canterbury [archbishop seeker] died yesterday. he had never been a papist, but almost everything else. our churchmen will not be catholics; that stock seems quite fallen.' [ ] perhaps the earl of corke. _ante_, iii. . [ ] garrick perhaps borrowed this saying when, in his epigram on goldsmith, speaking of the ideas of which his head was full, he said:-- 'when his mouth opened all were in a pother, rushed to the door and tumbled o'er each other, but rallying soon with all their force again, in bright array they issued from his pen.' fitzgerald's _garrick_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, ix. ) writes of boswell's _life of johnson:_--'dr. blagden says justly, that it is a new kind of libel, by which you may abuse anybody, by saying some dead person said so and so of somebody alive.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. iii. in the _gent. mag._ , p. , is a review of _a letter to samuel johnson, ll.d._, 'that is generally imputed to mr. wilkes.' [ ] 'do you conceive the full force of the word constituent? it has the same relation to the house of commons as creator to creature.' _a letter to samuel johnson, ll.d._, p. . [ ] his profound admiration of the great first cause was such as to set him above that 'philosophy and vain deceit' [_colossians_, ii. ] with which men of narrower conceptions have been infected. i have heard him strongly maintain that 'what is right is not so from any natural fitness, but because god wills it to be right;' and it is certainly so, because he has predisposed the relations of things so as that which he wills must be right. boswell. johnson was as much opposed as the rev. mr. thwackum to the philosopher square, who 'measured all actions by the unalterable rule of right and the eternal fitness of things.' _tom jones_, book iii. ch. . [ ] in _rasselas_ (ch. ii.) we read that the prince's look 'discovered him to receive some solace of the miseries of life, from consciousness of the delicacy with which he felt, and the eloquence with which he bewailed them.' see _ante_, april , . [ ] i hope the authority of the great master of our language will stop that curtailing innovation, by which we see _critic, public_, &c., frequently written instead of _critick, publick_, &c. boswell. boswell had always been nice in his spelling. in the preface to his _corsica_, published twenty-four years before _the life of johnson_, he defends his peculiarities, and says:--'if this work should at any future period be reprinted, i hope that care will be taken of my orthography.' mr. croker says that in a memorandum in johnson's writing he has found '_cubic_ feet.' [ ] 'disorders of intellect,' answered imlac, 'happen much more often than superficial observers will easily believe. perhaps, if we speak with rigorous exactness, no human mind is in its right state.' _rasselas_, ch. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , for kit smart's madness in praying. [ ] yet he gave lessons in latin to miss burney and miss thrale. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . in skye he said, 'depend upon it, no woman is the worse for sense and knowledge.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, iii, . [ ] nos. , , and . the first number of the _spectator_ was written by addison, the last by grove. see _ante_, iii. , for johnson's praise of no. . [ ] sterne is of a direct contrary opinion. see his _sentimental journey_, article, 'the mystery.' boswell. sterne had been of the same opinion as johnson, for he says that the beggar he saw 'confounded all kind of reasoning upon him.' 'he passed by me,' he continues, 'without asking anything--and yet he did not go five steps farther before he asked charity of a little woman--i was much more likely to have given of the two. he had scarce done with the woman, when he pulled his hat off to another who was coming the same way.--an ancient gentleman came slowly--and, after him, a young smart one--he let them both pass, and asked nothing; i stood observing him half an hour, in which time he had made a dozen turns backwards and forwards, and found that he invariably pursued the same plan.' _sentimental journey_, ed. , ii. . [ ] very likely dr. warton. _ante_, ii. . [ ] i differ from mr. croker in the explanation of this ill-turned sentence. the _shield_ that homer may hold up is the observation made by mrs. fitzherbert. it was this observation that johnson respected as a very fine one. for his high opinion of that lady's understanding, see _ante_, i. . [ ] in _boswelliana_ (p. ) are recorded two more of langton's anecdotes. 'mr. beauclerk told dr. johnson that dr. james said to him he knew more greek than mr. walmesley. "sir," said he, "dr. james did not know enough of greek to be sensible of his ignorance of the language. walmesley did."' see _ante_, i. . 'a certain young clergyman used to come about dr. johnson. the doctor said it vexed him to be in his company, his ignorance was so hopeless. "sir," said mr. langton, "his coming about you shows he wishes to help his ignorance." "sir," said the doctor, "his ignorance is so great, i am afraid to show him the bottom of it."' [ ] dr. francklin. see _ante_, iii. , note . churchill attacked him in _the rosciad_ (poems, ii. ). when, he says, it came to the choice of a judge, 'others for francklin voted; but 'twas known, he sickened at all triumphs but his own.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] _ib_. . boswell. [ ] 'mr. fowke once observed to dr. johnson that, in his opinion, the doctor's literary strength lay in writing biography, in which he infinitely exceeded all his contemporaries. "sir," said johnson, "i believe that is true. the dogs don't know how to write trifles with dignity."'--r. warner's _original letters_, p. . [ ] his design is thus announced in his _advertisement_: 'the booksellers having determined to publish a body of english poetry, i was persuaded to promise them a preface to the works of each authour; an undertaking, as it was then presented to my mind, not very tedious or difficult. 'my purpose was only to have allotted to every poet an advertisement, like that [in original _those_] which we find in the french miscellanies, containing a few dates, and a general character; but i have been led beyond my intention, i hope by the honest desire of giving useful pleasure.' boswell. [ ] _institutiones_, liber i, prooemium . [ ] 'he had bargained for two hundred guineas, and the booksellers spontaneously added a third hundred; on this occasion dr. johnson observed to me, "sir, i always said the booksellers were a generous set of men. nor, in the present instance, have i reason to complain. the fact is, not that they have paid me too little, but that i have written too much." the _lives_ were soon published in a separate edition; when, for a very few corrections, he was presented with another hundred guineas.' nichols's _lit. anec._ viii. . see _ante_, iii. . in mr. morrison's _collection of autographs_ &c., vol. ii, 'is johnson's receipt for _l_., from the proprietors of _the lives of the poets_ for revising the last edition of that work.' it is dated feb. , . 'underneath, in johnson's autograph, are these words: "it is great impudence to put _johnson's poets_ on the back of books which johnson neither recommended nor revised. he recommended only blackmore on the creation, and watts. how then are they johnson's? this is indecent."' the poets whom johnson recommended were blackmore, watts, pomfret, and yalden. _ante_, under dec. , . [ ] gibbon says of the last five quartos of the six that formed his _history_:--'my first rough manuscript, without any intermediate copy, has been sent to the press.' _misc. works_, i. . in the _memoir of goldsmith_, prefixed to his _misc. works_, i. , it is said:--'in whole quires of his _histories_, _animated nature_, &c., he had seldom occasion to correct or alter a single word.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] from waller's _of loving at first sight_. waller's _poems, miscellanies_, xxxiv. [ ] he trusted greatly to his memory. if it did not retain anything exactly, he did not think himself bound to look it up. thus in his criticism on congreve (_works_, viii. ) he says:--'of his plays i cannot speak distinctly; for since i inspected them many years have passed.' in a note on his _life of rowe_, nichols says:--'this _life_ is a very remarkable instance of the uncommon strength of dr. johnson's memory. when i received from him the ms. he complacently observed that the criticism was tolerably well done, considering that he had not read one of rowe's plays for thirty years.' _ib_. vii. . [ ] thus:--'in the _life of waller_, mr. nichols will find a reference to the _parliamentary history_ from which a long quotation is to be inserted. if mr. nichols cannot easily find the book, mr. johnson will send it from streatham.' 'clarendon is here returned.' 'by some accident, i laid _your_ note upon duke up so safely, that i cannot find it. your informations have been of great use to me. i must beg it again; with another list of our authors, for i have laid that with the other. i have sent stepney's epitaph. let me have the revises as soon as can be. dec. .' 'i have sent philips, with his epitaphs, to be inserted. the fragment of a preface is hardly worth the impression, but that we may seem to do something. it may be added to the _life of philips_. the latin page is to be added to the _life of smith_. i shall be at home to revise the two sheets of milton. march , .' 'please to get me the last edition of hughes's _letters_; and try to get _dennis upon blackmore_, and upon calo, and any thing of the same writer against pope. our materials are defective.' 'as waller professed to have imitated fairfax, do you think a few pages of fairfax would enrich our edition? few readers have seen it, and it may please them. but it is not necessary.' 'an account of the lives and works of some of the most eminent english poets. by, &c.--"the english poets, biographically and critically considered, by sam. johnson."--let mr. nichols take his choice, or make another to his mind. may, .' 'you somehow forgot the advertisement for the new edition. it was not inclosed. of gay's _letters_ i see not that any use can be made, for they give no information of any thing. that he was a member of the philosophical society is something; but surely he could be but a corresponding member. however, not having his life here, i know not how to put it in, and it is of little importance.' see several more in _the gent. mag._, . the editor of that miscellany, in which johnson wrote for several years, seems justly to think that every fragment of so great a man is worthy of being preserved. boswell. in the original ms. in the british museum, _your_ in the third paragraph of this note is not in italics. johnson writes his correspondent's name _nichols_, _nichol_, and _nicol_. in the fourth paragraph he writes, first _philips_, and next _phillips_. his spelling was sometimes careless, _ante_, i. , note . in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , another of these notes is published:--'in reading rowe in your edition, which is very impudently called mine, i observed a little piece unnaturally and odiously obscene. i was offended, but was still more offended when i could not find it in rowe's genuine volumes. to admit it had been wrong; to interpolate it is surely worse. if i had known of such a piece in the whole collection, i should have been angry. what can be done?' in a note, mr. nichols says that this piece 'has not only appeared in the _works_ of rowe, but has been transplanted by pope into the _miscellanies_ he published in his own name and that of dean swift.' [ ] he published, in , a revised edition of baker's_ biographia dramatica_. baker was a grandson of de foe. _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] dryden writing of satiric poetry, says:--'had i time i could enlarge on the beautiful turns of words and thoughts, which are as requisite in this as in heroic poetry itself; of which the satire is undoubtedly a species. with these beautiful turns i confess myself to have been unacquainted, till about twenty years ago, in a conversation which i had with that noble wit of scotland, sir george mackenzie, he asked me why i did not imitate in my verses the turns of mr. waller, and sir john denham. ... this hint, thus seasonably given me, first made me sensible of my own wants, and brought me afterwards to seek for the supply of them in other english authors. i looked over the darling of my youth, the famous cowley.' dryden's _works_, ed. , xiii. iii. [ ] in one of his letters to nichols, johnson says:--'you have now all cowley. i have been drawn to a great length, but cowley or waller never had any critical examination before.' _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] _life of sheffield_. boswell. johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] see, however, p. of this volume, where the same remark is made and johnson is there speaking of _prose_. malone. [ ] 'purpureus, late qui splendeat unus et alter assuitur pannus.' '... shreds of purple with broad lustre shine sewed on your poem.' francis. horace, _ars poet_. . [ ] the original reading is enclosed in crochets, and the present one is printed in italicks. boswell. [ ] i have noticed a few words which, to our ears, are more uncommon than at least two of the three that boswell mentions; as, 'languages divaricate,' _works_, vii. ; 'the mellifluence of pope's numbers,' _ib._ ; 'a subject flux and transitory,' _ib._ ; 'his prose is pure without scrupulosity,' _ib._ ; 'he received and accommodated the ladies' (said of one serving behind the counter), _ib._ viii. ; 'the prevalence of this poem was gradual,' _ib._ p. ; 'his style is sometimes concatenated,' _ib._ p. . boswell, on the next page, supplies one more instance--'images such as the superficies of nature readily supplies.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] veracious is perhaps one of the 'four or five words' which johnson added, or thought that he added, to the english language. _ante_, i. . he gives it in his _dictionary_, but without any authority for it. it is however older than his time. [ ] see johnson's _works_, vii. , , and viii. . [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) writes of johnson's '_billingsgate on milton_.' a later letter shows that, like so many of johnson's critics, he had not read the _life_. _ib_. p. . [ ] _works_, vii. . [ ] thirty years earlier he had written of milton as 'that poet whose works may possibly be read when every other monument of british greatness shall be obliterated.' _ante_, i. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] earl stanhope (_life of pitt_, ii. ) describes this society in , 'as a club, till then of little note, which had a yearly festival in commemoration of the events of . it had been new-modelled, and enlarged with a view to the transactions at paris, but still retained its former name to imply a close connection between the principles of in england, and the principles of in france.' the earl stanhope of that day presided at the anniversary meeting on nov. , . nov. was the day on which william iii. landed. [ ] see _an essay on the life, character, and writings of dr. samuel johnson_, london, ; which is very well written, making a proper allowance for the democratical bigotry of its authour; whom i cannot however but admire for his liberality in speaking thus of my illustrious friend:-- 'he possessed extraordinary powers of understanding, which were much cultivated by study, and still more by meditation and reflection. his memory was remarkably retentive, his imagination uncommonly vigorous, and his judgement keen and penetrating. he had a strong sense of the importance of religion; his piety was sincere, and sometimes ardent; and his zeal for the interests of virtue was often manifested in his conversation and in his writings. the same energy which was displayed in his literary productions was exhibited also in his conversation, which was various, striking, and instructive; and perhaps no man ever equalled him for nervous and pointed repartees.' 'his _dictionary_, his moral essays, and his productions in polite literature, will convey useful instruction, and elegant entertainment, as long as the language in which they are written shall be understood.' boswell. [ ] boswell paraphrases the following passage:--'the king, with lenity of which the world has had perhaps no other example, declined to be the judge or avenger of his own or his father's wrongs; and promised to admit into the act of oblivion all, except those whom the parliament should except; and the parliament doomed none to capital punishment but the wretches who had immediately co-operated in the murder of the king. milton was certainly not one of them; he had only justified what they had done.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'though fall'n on evil days, on evil days though fall'n and evil tongues, in darkness, and with dangers compast round.' _paradise lost_, vii. . [ ] johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] 'his political notions were those of an acrimonious and surly republican.' _ib_. p. . [ ] 'what we know of milton's character in domestick relations is, that he was severe and arbitrary.' _ib._ p. . [ ] 'his theological opinions are said to have been first, calvinistical; and afterwards, perhaps when he began to hate the presbyterians, to have tended towards arminianism.... he appears to have been untainted by any heretical peculiarity of opinion.' _ib._ p. . [ ] mr. malone things it is rather a proof that he felt nothing of those cheerful sensations which he has described: that on these topicks it is the _poet_, and not the _man_, that writes. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , ii. , and iv. , for johnson's condemnation of blank verse. this condemnations was not universal. of dryden, he wrote (_works_, vii. ):--'he made rhyming tragedies, till, by the prevalence of manifest propriety, he seems to have grown ashamed of making them any longer.' his own _irene_ is in blank verse; though macaulay justly remarks of it:--'he had not the slightest notion of what blank verse should be.' (macaulay's _writings and speeches_, ed. , p. .) of thomson's _seasons_, he says (_works_, vii. ):--'his is one of the works in which blank verse seems properly used.' of young's _night thoughts_:--'this is one of the few poems in which blank verse could not be changed for rhyme but with disadvantage.' _ib_. p. . of milton himself, he writes:--'whatever be the advantages of rhyme, i cannot prevail on myself to wish that milton had been a rhymer; for i cannot wish his work to be other than it is; yet, like other heroes, he is to be admired rather than imitated.' _ib_. vii. . how much he felt the power of milton's blank verse is shewn by his _rambler_, no. , where, after stating that 'the noblest and most majestick pauses which our versification admits are upon the fourth and sixth syllables,' he adds:--' some passages [in milton] which conclude at this stop [the sixth syllable] i could never read without some strong emotions of delight or admiration.' 'if,' he continues, 'the poetry of milton be examined with regard to the pauses and flow of his verses into each other, it will appear that he has performed all that our language would admit.' cowper was so indignant at johnson's criticism of milton's blank verse that he wrote:--'oh! i could thresh his old jacket till i made his pension jingle in his pocket.' southey's _cowper_, iii. . [ ] one of the most natural instances of the effect of blank verse occurred to the late earl of hopeton. his lordship observed one of his shepherds poring in the fields upon milton's _paradise lost_; and having asked him what book it was, the man answered, 'an't please your lordship, this is a very odd sort of an authour: he would fain rhyme, but cannot get at it.' boswell. 'the variety of pauses, so much boasted by the lovers of blank verse, changes the measures of an english poet to the periods of a declaimer; and there are only a few skilful and happy readers of milton, who enable their audience to perceive where the lines end or begin. "blank verse," said an ingenious critick, "seems to be verse only to the eye."' johnson's _works_, vii. . in the _life of roscommon_ (_ib_. p. ), he says:--'a poem frigidly didactick, without rhyme, is so near to prose, that the reader only scorns it for pretending to be verse.' [ ] mr. locke. often mentioned in mme. d'arblay's _diary_. [ ] see vol. in. page . boswell. [ ] it is scarcely a defence. whatever it was, he thus ends it:-'it is natural to hope, that a comprehensive is likewise an elevated soul, and that whoever is wise is also honest. i am willing to believe that dryden, having employed his mind, active as it was, upon different studies, and filled it, capacious as it was, with other materials, came unprovided to the controversy, and wanted rather skill to discover the right than virtue to maintain it. but inquiries into the heart are not for man; we must now leave him to his judge.' works, vii. . [ ] in the original _fright_. _the hind and the panther_, i. . [ ] in this quotation two passages are joined. _works_, vii. , . [ ] 'the deep and pathetic morality of the _vanity of human wishes_' says sir walter scott, 'has often extracted tears from those whose eyes wander dry over the pages of professed sentimentality.' croker. it. drew tears from johnson himself. 'when,' says mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'he read his own satire, in which the life of a scholar is painted, he burst into a passion of tears. the family and mr. scott only were present, who, in a jocose way, clapped him on the back, and said:--"what's all this, my dear sir? why you, and i, and hercules, you know, were all troubled with melancholy." he was a very large man, and made out the triumvirate with johnson and hercules comically enough. the doctor was so delighted at his odd sally, that he suddenly embraced him, and the subject was immediately changed.' [ ] in disraeli's _curiosities of literature_, ed. , iv. , is given 'a memorandum of dr. johnson's of hints for the _life of pope_.' [ ] _works_, viii. . [ ] 'of the last editor [warburton] it is more difficult to speak. respect is due to high place, tenderness to living reputation, and veneration to genius and learning; but he cannot be justly offended at that liberty of which he has himself so frequently given an example, nor very solicitous what is thought of notes which he ought never to have considered as part of his serious employments.' _works_, v. . see _post_, june , . [ ] the liberality is certainly measured. with much praise there is much censure. _works_, viii. . see _ante_, ii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] of johnson's conduct towards warburton, a very honourable notice is taken by the editor of _tracts by warburton and a warburtonian, not admitted into the collection of their respective works_. after an able and 'fond, though not undistinguishing,' consideration of warburton's character, he says, 'in two immortal works, johnson has stood forth in the foremost rank of his admirers. by the testimony of such a man, impertinence must be abashed, and malignity itself must be softened. of literary merit, johnson, as we all know, was a sagacious but a most severe judge. such was his discernment, that he pierced into the most secret springs of human actions; and such was his integrity, that he always weighed the moral characters of his fellow-creatures in the "balance of the sanctuary." he was too courageous to propitiate a rival, and too proud to truckle to a superiour. warburton he knew, as i know him, and as every man of sense and virtue would wish to be known,--i mean, both from his own writings, and from the writings of those who dissented from his principles, or who envied his reputation. but, as to favours, he had never received or asked any from the bishop of gloucester; and, if my memory fails me not, he had seen him only once, when they met almost without design, conversed without much effort, and parted without any lasting impressions of hatred or affection. yet, with all the ardour of sympathetic genius, johnson has done that spontaneously and ably, which, by some writers, had been before attempted injudiciously, and which, by others, from whom more successful attempts might have been expected, has not _hitherto_ been done at all. he spoke well of warburton, without insulting those whom warburton despised. he suppressed not the imperfections of this extraordinary man, while he endeavoured to do justice to his numerous and transcendental excellencies. he defended him when living, amidst the clamours of his enemies; and praised him when dead, amidst the _silence of his friends_.' having availed myself of this editor's eulogy on my departed friend, for which i warmly thank him, let me not suffer the lustre of his reputation, honestly acquired by profound learning and vigorous eloquence, to be tarnished by a charge of illiberality. he has been accused of invidiously dragging again into light certain writings of a person respectable by his talents, his learning, his station and his age, which were published a great many years ago, and have since, it is said, been silently given up by their authour. but when it is considered that these writings were not _sins of youth_, but deliberate works of one well-advanced in life, overflowing at once with flattery to a great man of great interest in the church, and with unjust and acrimonious abuse of two men of eminent merit; and that, though it would have been unreasonable to expect an humiliating recantation, no apology whatever has been made in the cool of the evening, for the oppressive fervour of the heat of the day; no slight relenting indication has appeared in any note, or any corner of later publications; is it not fair to understand him as superciliously persevering? when he allows the shafts to remain in the wounds, and will not stretch forth a lenient hand, is it wrong, is it not generous to become an indignant avenger? boswell. boswell wrote on feb. , :--'there is just come out a publication which makes a considerable noise. the celebrated dr. parr, of norwich, has--wickedly, shall we say?--but surely wantonly--published warburton's _juvenile translations and discourse on prodigies_, and bishop kurd's attacks on jortin and dr. thomas leland, with his _essay on the delicacy of friendship_.' _letters of boswell_, p. . the 'editor,' therefore, is parr, and the 'warburtonian' is hurd. boswell had written to parr on jan. , :--'i request to hear by return of post if i may say or guess that dr. parr is the editor of these tracts.' parr's _works_, viii. . see also _ib_. iii. . [ ] in johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , it is said, that this meeting was 'at the bishop of st. ----'s [asaph's]. boswell, by his 'careful enquiry,' no doubt meant to show that this statement was wrong. johnson is reported to have said:--' dr. warburton at first looked surlily at me; but after we had been jostled into conversation he took me to a window, asked me some questions, and before we parted was so well pleased with me that he patted me.' [ ] 'warburton's style is copious without selection, and forcible without neatness; he took the words that presented themselves; his diction is coarse and impure; and his sentences are unmeasured.' johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] churchill, in _the duellist (poems_ ed. , ii. ), describes warburton as having 'a heart, which virtue ne'er disgraced; a head where learning runs to waste.' [ ] _works_, viii. . [ ] 'i never,' writes mrs. piozzi, 'heard johnson pronounce the words, "i beg your pardon, sir," to any human creature but the apparently soft and gentle dr. burney.' burney had asked her whether she had subscribed £ to building a bridge. '"it is very comical, is it not, sir?" said i, turning to dr. johnson, "that people should tell such unfounded stories." "it is," answered he, "neither comical nor serious, my dear; it is only a wandering lie." this was spoken in his natural voice, without a thought of offence, i am confident; but up bounced burney in a towering passion, and to my much amaze put on the hero, surprising dr. johnson into a sudden request for pardon, and protestation of not having ever intended to accuse his friend of a falsehood.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . [ ] in the original, '_nor_.' _works_, viii. . [ ] in the original, '_either_ wise or merry.' [ ] in the original, '_stands upon record_'. [ ] _works_, viii. . surely the words 'had not much to say' imply that johnson had heard the answer, but thought little of its wit. according to mr. croker, the repartee is given in ruffhead's _life of pope_, and this book johnson had seen. _ante_, ii. . [ ] let me here express my grateful remembrance of lord somerville's kindness to me, at a very early period. he was the first person of high rank that took particular notice of me in the way most flattering to a young man, fondly ambitious of being distinguished for his literary talents; and by the honour of his encouragement made me think well of myself, and aspire to deserve it better. he had a happy art of communicating his varied knowledge of the world, in short remarks and anecdotes, with a quiet pleasant gravity, that was exceedingly engaging. never shall i forget the hours which i enjoyed with him at his apartments in the royal palace of holy-rood house, and at his seat near edinburgh, which he himself had formed with an elegant taste. boswell. [ ] _ante_, iii. . [ ] boswell, i think, misunderstands johnson. johnson said (_works_, viii. ) that 'pope's admiration of the great seems to have increased in the advance of life.' his _iliad_ he had dedicated to congreve, but 'to his latter works he took care to annex names dignified with titles, but was not very happy in his choice; for, except lord bathurst, none of his noble friends were such as that a good man would wish to have his intimacy with them known to posterity; he can derive little honour from the notice of cobham, burlington, or bolingbroke.' johnson, it seems clear, is speaking, not of the noblemen whom pope knew in general, but of those to whom he dedicated any of his works. among them lord marchmont is not found, so that on him no slight is cast. [ ] neither does johnson actually say that lord marchmont had 'any concern,' though perhaps he implies it. he writes:--'pope left the care of his papers to his executors; first to lord bolingbroke; and, if he should not be living, to the earl of marchmont: undoubtedly expecting them to be proud of the trust, and eager to extend his fame. but let no man dream of influence beyond his life. after a decent time, dodsley the bookseller went to solicit preference as the publisher, and was told that the parcel had not been yet inspected; and, whatever was the reason, the world has been disappointed of what was "reserved for the next age."' _ib_. p. . as bolingbroke outlived pope by more than seven years, it is clear, from what johnson states, that he alone had the care of the papers, and that he gave the answer to dodsley. marchmont, however, knew the contents of the papers. _ib_. p. . [ ] this neglect did not arise from any ill-will towards lord marchmont, but from inattention; just as he neglected to correct his statement concerning the family of thomson the poet, after it had been shewn to be erroneous (_ante_, in. ). malone. [ ] _works, vii. ._ [ ] benjamin victor published in , a _letter to steele_, and in , _letters, dramatic pieces, and poems_ brit. mus. catalogue. [ ] mr. _wilks_. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _post_, p. and macaulay's _essay on addison_ (ed. , iv. ). [ ] 'a better and more christian man scarcely ever breathed than joseph addison. if he had not that little weakness for wine--why we could scarcely have found a fault with him, and could not have liked him as we do.' thackery's _english humourists_, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] see _post_, under dec. , . [ ] parnell 'drank to excess.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] i should have thought that johnson, who had felt the severe affliction from which parnell never recovered, would have preserved this passage. boswell. [ ] mrs. thrale wrote to johnson in may, :-'blackmore will be rescued from the old wits who worried him much to your disliking; so, a little for love of his christianity, a little for love of his physic, a little for love of his courage--and a little for love of contradiction, you will save him from his malevolent critics, and perhaps do him the honour to devour him yourself.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'this is a tribute which a painter owes to an architect who composed like a painter; and was defrauded of the due reward of his merit by the wits of his time, who did not understand the principles of composition in poetry better than he did; and who knew little, or nothing, of what he understood perfectly, the general ruling principles of architecture and painting.' reynolds's _thirteenth discourse_. [ ] johnson had not wished to write _lyttelton's life_. he wrote to lord westcote, lyttelton's brother, 'my desire is to avoid offence, and be totally out of danger. i take the liberty of proposing to your lordship, that the historical account should be written under your direction by any friend you may be willing to employ, and i will only take upon myself to examine the poetry.'--croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] it was not _molly aston_ (_ante_ i. ) but miss hill boothby (_ib_.) of whom mrs. thrale wrote. she says (_anec_. p. ):--'such was the purity of her mind, johnson said, and such the graces of her manner, that lord lyttelton and he used to strive for her preference with an emulation that occasioned hourly disgust, and ended in lasting animosity.' there is surely much exaggeration in this account. [ ] let not my readers smile to think of johnson's being a candidate for female favour; mr. peter garrick assured me, that he was told by a lady, that in her opinion johnson was 'a very _seducing man_.' disadvantages of person and manner may be forgotten, where intellectual pleasure is communicated to a susceptible mind; and that johnson was capable of feeling the most delicate and disinterested attachment, appears from the following letter, which is published by mrs. thrale [_piozzi letters_, ii. ], with some others to the same person, of which the excellence is not so apparent:-- 'to miss boothby. january, . dearest madam, though i am afraid your illness leaves you little leisure for the reception of airy civilities, yet i cannot forbear to pay you my congratulations on the new year; and to declare my wishes that your years to come may be many and happy. in this wish, indeed, i include myself, who have none but you on whom my heart reposes; yet surely i wish your good, even though your situation were such as should permit you to communicate no gratifications to, dearest, dearest madam, your, &c. sam johnson.' (boswell.) [ ] horace, _odes_, iv. . , quoted also _ante_, i. , note. [ ] the passage which boswell quotes in part is as follows:--'when they were first published they were kindly commended by the _critical reviewers_; [i.e. the writers in the _critical review_. in some of the later editions of boswell these words have been printed, _critical reviewers_; so as to include all the reviewers who criticised the work]; and poor lyttelton, with humble gratitude, returned, in a note which i have read, acknowledgements which can never be proper, since they must be paid either for flattery or for justice.' _works_, viii. . boswell forgets that what may be proper in one is improper in another. lyttelton, when he wrote this note, had long been a man of high position. he had 'stood in the first rank of opposition,' he had been chancellor of the exchequer, and when he lost his post, he had been 'recompensed with a peerage.' see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, june and , . [ ] he adopted it from indolence. writing on aug. , , after mentioning the failure of his application to lord westcote, he continues:--'there is an ingenious scheme to save a day's work, or part of a day, utterly defeated. then what avails it to be wise? the plain and the artful man must both do their own work.--but i think i have got a life of dr. young.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] _gent. mag._ vol. lv. p. . boswell. [ ] by a letter to johnson from croft, published in the later editions of the _lives_, it seems that johnson only expunged one passage. croft says:--'though i could not prevail on you to make any alteration, you insisted on striking out one passage, because it said, that, if i did not wish you to live long for your sake, i did for the sake of myself and the world.' _works_ viii. . [ ] the late mr. burke. malone. [ ] see_post_, june , . [ ] johnson's _works_, viii . [ ] _ib._ p. [ ] 'eheu! fugaces, postume, postume, labuntur anni.' 'how swiftly glide our flying years!' francis. horace, _odes_, ii. . i. [ ] the late mr. james ralph told lord macartney, that he passed an evening with dr. young at lord melcombe's (then mr. dodington) at hammersmith. the doctor happening to go out into the garden, mr. dodington observed to him, on his return, that it was a dreadful night, as in truth it was, there being a violent storm of rain and wind. 'no, sir, (replied the doctor) it is a very fine night. the lord is abroad.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. ; and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] 'an ardent judge, who zealous in his trust, with warmth gives sentence, yet is always just.' pope's _essay on criticism_, l. . [ ] _works_, viii. . though the _life of young_ is by croft, yet the critical remarks are by johnson. [ ] _ib._ p. . [ ] johnson refers to chambers's _dissertation on oriental gardening_, which was ridiculed in the _heroic epistle_. see _post_, under may , , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] boswell refers to the death of narcissa in the third of the _night thoughts_. while he was writing the _life of johnson_ mrs. boswell was dying of consumption in (to quote young's words) the rigid north, her native bed, on which bleak boreas blew.' she died nearly two years before _the life_ was published. [ ] _proverbs_, xviii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . [ ] see vol. i. page . boswell. [ ] 'in his economy swift practised a peculiar and offensive parsimony, without disguise or apology. the practice of saving being once necessary, became habitual, and grew first ridiculous, and at last detestable. but his avarice, though it might exclude pleasure, was never suffered to encroach upon his virtue. he was frugal by inclination, but liberal by principle; and if the purpose to which he destined his little accumulations be remembered, with his distribution of occasional charity, it will perhaps appear, that he only liked one mode of expense better than another, and saved merely that he might have something to give.' _works_, viii. . [ ] _ib_. p. . [ ] mr. chalmers here records a curious literary anecdote--that when a new and enlarged edition of the _lives of the poets_ was published in , mr. nichols, in justice to the purchasers of the preceding editions, printed the additions in a separate pamphlet, and advertised that it might be had _gratis_. not ten copies were called for. croker. [ ] see _ante_, p. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] _works_, vii. preface. [ ] from this disreputable class, i except an ingenious though not satisfactory defence of hammond, which i did not see till lately, by the favour of its authour, my amiable friend, the reverend mr. bevill, who published it without his name. it is a juvenile performance, but elegantly written, with classical enthusiasm of sentiment, and yet with a becoming modesty, and great respect for dr. johnson. boswell. [ ] before the _life of lyttelton_ was published there was, it seems, some coolness between mrs. montagu and johnson. miss burney records the following conversation in september . 'mark now,' said dr. johnson, 'if i contradict mrs. montagu to-morrow. i am determined, let her say what she will, that i will not contradict her.' mrs. thrale. 'why to be sure, sir, you did put her a little out of countenance last time she came.'...dr. johnson. 'why, madam, i won't answer that i shan't contradict her again, if she provokes me as she did then; but a less provocation i will withstand. i believe i am not high in her good graces already; and i begin (added he, laughing heartily) to tremble for my admission into her new house. i doubt i shall never see the inside of it.' yet when they met a few days later all seemed friendly. 'when mrs. montagu's new house was talked of, dr. johnson in a jocose manner, desired to know if he should be invited to see it. "ay, sure," cried mrs. montagu, looking well pleased, "or else i shan't like it."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. , . 'mrs. montagu's dinners and assemblies,' writes wraxall, 'were principally supported by, and they fell with, the giant talents of johnson, who formed the nucleus round which all the subordinate members revolved.' wraxall's _memoirs_, ed. , i. . [ ] described by the author as 'a body of original essays.' 'i consider _the observer,'_ he arrogantly continues, 'as fairly enrolled amongst the standard classics of our native language.' cumberland's _memoirs_, ii. . in his account of this _feast of reason_ he quite as much satirises mrs. montagu as praises her. he introduces johnson in it, annoyed by an impertinent fellow, and saying to him:--'have i said anything, good sir, that you do not comprehend?' 'no, no,' replied he, 'i perfectly well comprehend every word you have been saying.' 'do you so, sir?' said the philosopher, 'then i heartily ask pardon of the company for misemploying their time so egregiously.' _the observer_, no. . [ ] miss burney gives an account of an attack made by johnson, at a dinner at streatham, in june , on mr. pepys (_post_, p. ), 'one of mrs. montagu's steadiest abettors.' 'never before,' she writes, 'have i seen dr. johnson speak with so much passion. "mr. pepys," he cried, in a voice the most enraged, "i understand you are offended by my _life of lord lyttelton_. what is it you have to say against it? come forth, man! here am i, ready to answer any charge you can bring."' after the quarrel had been carried even into the drawing-room, mrs. thrale, 'with great spirit and dignity, said that she should be very glad to hear no more of it. everybody was silenced, and dr. johnson, after a pause, said:--"well, madam, you _shall_ hear no more of it; yet i will defend myself in every part and in every atom."... thursday morning, dr. johnson went to town for some days, but not before mrs. thrale read him a very serious lecture upon giving way to such violence; which he bore with a patience and quietness that even more than made his peace with me.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . two months later the quarrel was made up. 'mr. pepys had desired this meeting by way of a reconciliation; and dr. johnson now made amends for his former violence, as he advanced to him, as soon as he came in, and holding out his hand to him received him with a cordiality he had never shewn him before. indeed he told me himself that he thought the better of mr. pepys for all that had passed.' _ib._ p. . miss burney, in dec. , described the quarrel to mr. cambridge:--'"i never saw dr. johnson really in a passion but then; and dreadful indeed it was to see. i wished myself away a thousand times. it was a frightful scene. he so red, poor mr. pepys so pale." "it was behaving ill to mrs. thrale certainly to quarrel in her house." "yes, but he never repeated it; though he wished of all things to have gone through just such another scene with mrs. montagu; and to refrain was an act of heroic forbearance. she came to streatham one morning, and i saw he was dying to attack her." "and how did mrs. montagu herself behave?" very stately, indeed, at first. she turned from him very stiffly, and with a most distant air, and without even courtesying to him, and with a firm intention to keep to what she had publicly declared--that she would never speak to him more. however, he went up to her himself, longing to begin, and very roughly said:--"well, madam, what's become of your fine new house? i hear no more of it." "but how did she bear this?" "why, she was obliged to answer him; and she soon grew so frightened--as everybody does--that she was as civil as ever." he laughed heartily at this account. but i told him dr. johnson was now much softened. he had acquainted me, when i saw him last, that he had written to her upon the death of mrs. williams [see _post_, sept. , , note], because she had allowed her something yearly, which now ceased. "and i had a very kind answer from her," said he. "well then, sir," cried i, "i hope peace now will be again proclaimed." "why, i am now," said he, "come to that time when i wish all bitterness and animosity to be at an end."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] january, . boswell. hastings's trial had been dragging on for more than three years when _the life of johnson_ was published. it began in , and ended in . [ ] _gent. mag_. for , p. . [ ] afterwards sir robert chambers, one of his majesty's judges in india. boswell. see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'he conceived that the cultivation of persian literature might with advantage be made a part of the liberal education of an english gentleman; and he drew up a plan with that view. it is said that the university of oxford, in which oriental learning had never, since the revival of letters, been wholly neglected, was to be the seat of the institution which he contemplated.' macaulay's _essays_, ed. , iii. . [ ] lord north's. feeble though it was, it lasted eight years longer. [ ] jones's _persian grammar_. boswell. it was published in . [ ] _journey to the western islands of scotland_. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] macaulay wrote of hastings's answer to this letter:--'it is a remarkable circumstance that one of the letters of hastings to dr. johnson bears date a very few hours after the death of nuncomar. while the whole settlement was in commotion, while a mighty and ancient priesthood were weeping over the remains of their chief, the conqueror in that deadly grapple sat down, with characteristic self-possession, to write about the _tour to the hebrides_, jones's _persian grammar_, and the history, traditions, arts, and natural productions of india.' macaulay's _essays_, ed. , iii. . [ ] johnson wrote the dedication, _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] _copy_ is _manuscript for printing_. [ ] published by kearsley, with this well-chosen motto:--'from his cradle he was a scholar, and a ripe and good one: and to add greater honours to his age than man could give him, he died fearing heaven.' shakspeare. boswell. this quotation is a patched up one from _henry viii_, act iv. sc. . the quotation in the text is found on p. of this _life of johnson_. [ ] mr. thrale had removed, that is to say, from his winter residence in the borough. mrs. piozzi has written opposite this passage in her copy of boswell:--'spiteful again! he went by direction of his physicians where they could easiest attend to him.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . there was, perhaps, a good deal of truth in boswell's supposition, for in johnson had told her that he saw 'with indignation her despicable dread of living in the borough.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . johnson had a room in the new house. 'think,' wrote hannah more, 'of johnson's having apartments in grosvenor-square! but he says it is not half so convenient as bolt-court.' h. more's _memoirs_, i. o . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] shakspeare makes hamlet thus describe his father:-- 'see what a grace was seated on this brow: hyperion's curls, the front of jove himself, an eye like mars, to threaten and command; a station like the herald, mercury, new-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; a combination, and a form, indeed, where every god did seem to set his seal, to give the world assurance of a man.! [act iii. sc. .] milton thus pourtrays our first parent, adam:-- 'his fair large front and eye sublime declar'd absolute rule; and hyacinthin locks round from his parted forelock manly hung clus'tring, but not beneath his shoulders broad.' [_p.l._ iv. .] boswell. [ ] 'grattan's uncle, dean marlay [afterwards bishop of waterford], had a good deal of the humour of swift. once, when the footman was out of the way, he ordered the coachman to fetch some water from the well. to this the man objected, that _his_ business was to drive, not to run on errands. "well, then," said marlay, "bring out the coach and four, set the pitcher inside, and drive to the well;"--a service which was several times repeated, to the great amusement of the village.' rogers's _table-talk_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , for johnson's contempt of puns. [ ] 'he left not faction, but of that was left.' _absalom and achitophel_, l. . [ ] boswell wrote of gibbon in :--'he is an ugly, affected, disgusting fellow, and poisons our literary club to me.' _letters of boswell_, p. . see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] _the schools_ in this sense means a university. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] up to the year , controverted elections had been tried before a committee of the whole house. by the _grenville act_ which was passed in that year they were tried by a select committee. _parl. hist._ xvi. . johnson, in _the false alarm_ ( ), describing the old method of trial, says;--'these decisions have often been apparently partial, and sometimes tyrannically oppressive.' _works, vi. ._ _in the patriot_ ( ), he says:--'a disputed election is now tried with the same scrupulousness and solemnity as any other title.' _ib._ p. . see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] miss burney describes a dinner at mr. thrale's, about this time, at which she met johnson, boswell, and dudley long. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , _post_, two paragraphs before april , , and may , . [ ] johnson wrote on may i, :--'there was the bishop of st. asaph who comes to every place.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . hannah more, in , describes an assembly at this bishop's. 'conceive to yourself or people met together dressed in the extremity of the fashion, painted as red as bacchanals...ten or a dozen card-tables crammed with dowagers of quality, grave ecclesiastics and yellow admirals.' _memoirs_, i. . he was elected a member of the literary club, 'with the sincere approbation and eagerness of all present,' wrote mr. (afterwards sir william) jones; elected, too, on the same day on which lord chancellor camden was rejected (_ante_, iii. , note ). two or three years later sir william married the bishop's daughter. _life of sir w jones_, pp. , . [ ] 'trust not to looks, nor credit outward show; the villain lurks beneath the cassocked beau.' churchill's _poems_ (ed. ), ii. . [ ] no. . [ ] see vol. i p. . boswell. [ ] northcote, according to hazlitt, said of this character with some truth, that 'it was like one of kneller's portraits--it would do for anybody.' northcote's _conversations_, p. . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] _london chronicle_, may , . this respectable man is there mentioned to have died on the rd of april, that year, at cofflect, the seat of thomas veale, esq., in his way to london. boswell. [ ] dr. harte was the tutor of mr. eliot and of young stanhope, lord chesterfield's illegitimate son. 'my morning hopes,' wrote chesterfield to his son at rome, 'are justly placed in mr. harte, and the masters he will give you; my evening ones in the roman ladies: pray be attentive to both.' chesterfield's _letters_, ii. . see _ante_, i. , note , ii. , and _post_, june , . [ ] robertson's _scotland_ is in the february list of books in the _gent. mag_. for ; harte's _gustavus adolphus_ and hume's _england under the house of tudor_ in the march list. perhaps it was from hume's competition that harte suffered. [ ] _essays on husbandry_, . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'christmas day, . i shall not attempt to see vestris till the weather is milder, though it is the universal voice that he is the only perfect being that has dropped from the clouds, within the memory of man or woman...when the parliament meets he is to be thanked by the speaker.' walpole's _letters_, vii. . [ ] here johnson uses his title of doctor (_ante_, ii. , note ), but perhaps he does so as quoting the paragraph in the newspaper. [ ] william, the first viscount grimston. boswell. swift thus introduces him in his lines _on poetry, a rhapsody_:-- 'when death had finished blackmore's reign, the leaden crown devolved to thee, great poet of the hollow tree.' mr. nichols, in a note on this, says that grimston 'wrote the play when a boy, to be acted by his schoolfellows.' swift's _works_ ( ), xi. . two editions were published apparently by grimston himself, one bearing his name but no date, and the other the date of but no name. by grimston was years old--no longer a boy. the former edition was published by bernard lintott at the cross keys, fleet-street, and the latter by the same bookseller at the middle temple gate. the grossness of a young man of birth at this period is shewn by the preface. the third edition with the elephant on the tight-rope was published in . there is another illustration in which an ass is represented bearing a coronet. grimston's name is not given here, but there is a dedication 'to the right sensible the lord flame.' three or four notes are added, one of which is very gross. the election was for st. alban's, for which borough he was thrice returned. [ ] dr. t. campbell records (_diary_, p. ) that 'boswell asked johnson if he had never been under the hands of a dancing master. "aye, and a dancing mistress too," says the doctor; "but i own to you i never took a lesson but one or two; my blind eyes showed me i could never make a proficiency."' [ ] see vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] miss burney writes of him in feb. :--'he is a professed minority man, and very active and zealous in the opposition. men of such different principles as dr. johnson and sir philip cannot have much cordiality in their political debates; however, the very superior abilities of the former, and the remarkable good breeding of the latter have kept both upon good terms.' she describes a hot argument between them, and continues:--'dr. johnson pursued him with unabating vigour and dexterity, and at length, though he could not convince, he so entirely baffled him, that sir philip was self-compelled to be quiet--which, with a very good grace, he confessed. dr. johnson then recollecting himself, and thinking, as he owned afterwards, that the dispute grew too serious, with a skill all his own, suddenly and unexpectedly turned it to burlesque.' d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] see _post_, jan. , . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] here johnson condescended to play upon the words _long_ and _short_. but little did he know that, owing to mr. long's reserve in his presence, he was talking thus of a gentleman distinguised amongst his acquaintance for acuteness of wit; one to whom i think the french expression, '_il pétille d'esprit_,' is particularly he has gratified me by mentioning that he heard dr. johnson say, 'sir, if i were to lose boswell, it would be a limb amputated.' boswell. [ ] william weller pepys, esq., one of the masters in the high court of chancery, and well known in polite circles. my acquaintance with him is not sufficient to enable me to speak of him from my own judgement. but i know that both at eton and oxford he was the intimate friend of the late sir james macdonald, the _marcellus_ of scotland [_ante_, i. ], whose extraordinary talents, learning, and virtues, will ever be remembered with admiration and regret. boswell. [ ] see note, _ante_, p. , which describes an attack made by johnson on pepys more than two months after this conversation. [ ] johnson once said to mrs. thrale:--'why, madam, you often provoke me to say severe things by unreasonable commendation. if you would not call for my praise, i would not give you my censure; but it constantly moves my indignation to be applied to, to speak well of a thing which i think contemptible.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'mrs. thrale,' wrote miss burney in , 'is a most dear creature, but never restrains her tongue in anything, nor, indeed, any of her feelings. she laughs, cries, scolds, sports, reasons, makes fun--does everything she has an inclination to do, without any study of prudence, or thought of blame; and, pure and artless as is this character, it often draws both herself and others into scrapes, which a little discretion would avoid.' _ib_. i. . later on she writes:--'mrs. thrale, with all her excellence, can give up no occasion of making sport, however unseasonable or even painful... i knew she was not to be safely trusted with anything she could turn into ridicule.' _ib_. ii. and . [ ] perhaps mr. seward, who was constantly at the thrales' (_ante_, iii. ). [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] it was the seventh anniversary of goldsmith's death. [ ] 'mrs. garrick and i,' wrote hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ), 'were invited to an assembly at mrs. thrale's. there was to be a fine concert, and all the fine people were to be there. just as my hair was dressed, came a servant to forbid our coming, for that mr. thrale was dead.' [ ] _pr. and med._ p . boswell. the rest of the entry should be given:--'on wednesday, , was buried my dear friend thrale, who died on wednesday ; and with him were buried many of my hopes and pleasures. [on sunday, st, the physician warned him against full meals, on monday i pressed him to observance of his rules, but without effect, and tuesday i was absent, but his wife pressed forbearance upon him again unsuccessfully. at night i was called to him, and found him senseless in strong convulsions. i staid in the room, except that i visited mrs. thrale twice.] about five, i think, on wednesday morning he expired; i felt, &c. farewell. may god that delighteth in mercy have had mercy on thee. i had constantly prayed for him some time before his death. the decease of him from whose friendship i had obtained many opportunities of amusement, and to whom i turned my thoughts as to a refuge from misfortunes, has left me heavy. but my business is with myself.' the passage enclosed in brackets i have copied from the original ms. mr. strahan, the editor, omitted it, no doubt from feelings of delicacy. what a contrast in this to the widow who published a letter in which she had written:--'i wish that you would put in a word of your own to mr. thrale about eating less!' _piozzi letters_, ii. . baretti, in a note on _piozzi letters_, ii. , says that 'nobody ever had spirit enough to tell mr. thrale that his fits were apoplectic; such is the blessing of being rich that nobody dares to speak out.' in johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. , it is recorded that 'johnson, who attended thrale in his last moments, said, "his servants would have waited upon him in this awful period, and why not his friend?"' [ ] johnson's letters to the widow show how much he felt thrale's death. 'april , . i am not without my part of the calamity. no death since that of my wife has ever oppressed me like this. april . my part of the loss hangs upon me. i have lost a friend of boundless kindness, at an age when it is very unlikely that i should find another. april . our sorrow has different effects; you are withdrawn into solitude, and i am driven into company. i am afraid of thinking what i have lost. i never had such a friend before. april . i feel myself like a man beginning a new course of life. i had interwoven myself with my dear friend.' _piozzi letters_, ii. - . 'i have very often,' wrote miss burney, in the following june, 'though i mention them not, long and melancholy discourses with dr. johnson about our dear deceased master, whom, indeed, he regrets incessantly.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . on his next birthday, he wrote:--'my first knowledge of thrale was in . i enjoyed his favour for almost a fourth part of my life.' _pr. and med._ p. . one or two passages in mrs. thrale's letters shew her husband's affection for johnson. on may , , she writes:--'mr. thrale says he shall not die in peace without seeing rome, and i am sure he will go nowhere that he can help without you.' _piozzi letters_, i. . a few days later, she speaks of 'our dear master, who cannot be quiet without you for a week.' _ib._ p. . johnson, in his fine epitaph on thrale (_works_, i. ) broke through a rule which he himself had laid down. in his _essay on epitaphs_ (_ib._ v ), he said:--'it is improper to address the epitaph to the passenger [traveller], a custom which an injudicious veneration for antiquity introduced again at the revival of letters.' yet in the monument in streatham church, we find the same _abi viator_ which he had censured in an epitaph on henry iv of france. [ ] johnson's letters to mrs. thrale shew that he had long been well acquainted with the state of her husband's business. in the year , mr. thrale was in money difficulties. johnson writes to her almost as if he were a partner in the business. 'the first consequence of our late trouble ought to be an endeavour to brew at a cheaper rate...unless this can be done, nothing can help us; and if this be done, we shall not want help.' _piozzi letters_, i. . he urges economy in the household, and continues:--'but the fury of housewifery will soon subside; and little effect will be produced, but by methodical attention and even frugality.' _ib._ p. . in another letter he writes:--'this year will undoubtedly be an year of struggle and difficulty; but i doubt not of getting through it; and the difficulty will grow yearly less and less. supposing that our former mode of life kept us on the level, we shall, by the present contraction of expense, gain upon fortune a thousand a year, even though no improvements can be made in the conduct of the trade.' _piozzi letters_, i. . four years later, he writes:--'to-day i went to look into my places at the borough. i called on mr. perkins in the counting-house. he crows and triumphs, as we go on we shall double our business.' _ib._ p. . when the executors first met, he wrote:--'we met to-day, and were told of mountainous difficulties, till i was provoked to tell them, that if there were really so much to do and suffer, there would be no executors in the world. do not suffer yourself to be terrified.' _ib._ ii. . boswell says (_ante_, ii. l):--'i often had occasion to remark, johnson loved business, loved to have his wisdom actually operate on real life.' when boswell had purchased a farm, 'johnson,' he writes (_ante_, iii. ), 'made several calculations of the expense and profit; for he delighted in exercising his mind on the science of numbers.' the letter (_ante_, ii. ) about the book-trade 'exhibits,' to use boswell's words, 'his extraordinary precision and acuteness.' boswell wrote to temple:--'dr. taylor has begged of dr. johnson to come to london, to assist him in some interesting business; and johnson loves much to be so consulted, and so comes up.' _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] johnson, as soon as the will was read, wrote to mrs. thrale:--'you have, £ for your immediate expenses, and, £ a year, with both the houses and all the goods.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . beattie wrote on june :--'everybody says mr. thrale should have left johnson £ a year; which, from a fortune like his, would have been a very inconsiderable deduction.' beattie's _life_, ed. , p. . [ ] miss burney thus writes of the day of the sale:--'mrs. thrale went early to town, to meet all the executors, and mr. barclay, the quaker, who was the bidder. she was in great agitation of mind, and told me if all went well she would wave a white handkerchief out of the coach-window. four o'clock came and dinner was ready, and no mrs. thrale. queeny and i went out upon the lawn, where we sauntered in eager expectation, till near six, and then the coach appeared in sight, and a white handkerchief was waved from it.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . the brewery was sold for £ , . see _post_, june , . [ ] see _post_, paragraph before june , . [ ] baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says that 'the two last years of thrale's life his brewery brought him £ , a year neat profit.' [ ] in the fourth edition of his _dictionary_, published in , johnson introduced a second definition of _patriot_:--'it is sometimes used for a factious disturber of the government.' gibbon (_misc. works_, ii. ) wrote on feb. , :--'charles fox is commenced patriot, and is already attempting to pronounce the words, _country_, _liberty_, _corruption_, &c.; with what success time will discover.' forty years before johnson begged not to meet patriots, sir robert walpole said:--'a patriot, sir! why patriots spring up like mushrooms. i could raise fifty of them within the four-and-twenty hours. i have raised many of them in one night. it is but refusing to gratify an unreasonable or an insolent demand, and up starts a patriot. i have never been afraid of making patriots; but i disdain and despise all their efforts.' coxe's _walpole_, i. . see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] he was tried on feb. and , . _ann. reg._ xxiv. . [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) records a dinner on a tuesday in this year. (like mrs. thrale and miss burney, she cared nothing for dates.) it was in the week after thrale's death. it must have been the dinner here mentioned by boswell; for it was at a bishop's (shipley of st. asaph), and sir joshua and boswell were among the guests. why boswell recorded none of johnson's conversation may be guessed from what she tells. 'i was heartily disgusted,' she says, 'with mr. boswell, who came up stairs after dinner much disordered with wine.' (see _post_, p. ). the following morning johnson called on her. 'he reproved me,' she writes, 'with pretended sharpness for reading _les pensées de pascal_, alleging that as a good protestant i ought to abstain from books written by catholics. i was beginning to stand upon my defence, when he took me with both hands, and with a tear running down his cheeks, "child," said he, with the most affecting earnestness, "i am heartily glad that you read pious books, by whomsoever they may be written.'" [ ] on good-friday, in , johnson recorded:--'it has happened this week, as it never happened in passion-week before, that i have never dined at home, and i have therefore neither practised abstinence nor peculiar devotion' _pr. and med._ p. . [ ] no. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] richard berenger, esq., many years gentleman of the horse, and first equerry to his present majesty. malone. according to mrs. piozzi (_anec._ p. ), he was johnson's 'standard of true elegance.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] johnson (_works_, vii. ) thus describes addison's 'familiar day,' on the authority of pope:--'he studied all morning; then dined at a tavern; and went afterwards to button's [coffee-house]. from the coffee-house he went again to a tavern, where he often sat late, and drank too much wine.' spence (_anec._ p. ) adds, on the authority of pope, that 'addison passed each day alike, and much in the manner that dryden did. dryden employed his mornings in writing; dined _en famille_; and then went to wills's; only he came home earlier a'nights' [ ] mr. foss says of blackstone:--'ere he had been long on the bench he experienced the bad effects of the studious habits in which he had injudiciously indulged in his early life, and of his neglect to take the necessary amount of exercise, to which he was specially averse.' he died at the age of . foss's _judges_, viii. . he suffered greatly from his corpulence. his portrait in the bodleian shews that he was a very fat man. malone says that scott (afterwards lord stowell) wrote to blackstone's family to apologise for boswell's anecdote. prior's _malone_, p. . scott would not have thought any the worse of blackstone for his bottle of port; both he and his brother, the chancellor, took a great deal of it. 'lord eldon liked plain port; the stronger the better.' twiss's _eldon_, iii. . some one asked him whether lord stowell took much exercise. 'none,' he said, 'but the exercise of eating and drinking.' _ib._ p. . yet both men got through a vast deal of hard work, and died, eldon at the age of , and stowell of . [ ] see this explained, pp. , of this volume. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] william scott was a tutor of university college at the age of nineteen. he held the office for ten years--to . he wrote to his father in about his younger brother john (afterwards lord eldon), who had just made a run-away match:--'the business in which i am engaged is so extremely disagreeable in itself, and so destructive to health (if carried on with such success as can render it at all considerable in point of profit) that i do not wonder at his unwillingness to succeed me in it.' twiss's _eldon_, i. , . [ ] the account of her marriage given by john wesley in a letter to his brother-in-law, mr. hall, is curious. he wrote on dec. , :--'more than twelve years ago you told me god had revealed it to you that you should marry my youngest sister ... you asked and gained her consent... in a few days you had a counter-revelation, that you was not to marry her, but her sister. this last error was far worse than the first. but you was not quite above conviction. so, in spite of her poor astonished parents, of her brothers, of all your vows and promises, you shortly after jilted the younger and married the elder sister.' wesley's _journal_, ii. . mrs. hall suffered greatly for marrying a wretch who had so cruelly treated her own sister, southey's _wesley_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the original 'robinhood' was a debating society which met near temple-bar. some twenty years before this time goldsmith belonged to it, and, it was said, burke. forster's _goldsmith_, i. , and prior's _burke_, p. . the president was a baker by trade. 'goldsmith, after hearing him give utterance to a train of strong and ingenious reasoning, exclaimed to derrick, "that man was meant by nature for a lord chancellor." derrick replied, "no, no, not so high; he is only intended for master of the _rolls_."' prior's _goldsmith_, i. . fielding, in , in _the covent-garden journal_, nos. and , takes off this society and the baker. a fragment of a report of their discussions which he pretends to have discovered, begins thus:--'this evenin the questin at the robinhood was, whether relidgin was of any youse to a sosyaty; baken bifor mee to'mmas whytebred, baker.' horace walpole (_letters_, iv. ), in , wrote of the visit of a french gentleman to england, 'he has _seen_ ... jews, quakers, mr. pitt, the royal society, the robinhood, lord chief-justice pratt, the arts-and-sciences, &c.' romilly (_life_, i. ), in a letter dated may , , says that during the past winter several of these sunday religious debating societies had been established. 'the auditors,' he was assured, 'were mostly weak, well-meaning people, who were inclined to methodism;' but among the speakers were 'some designing villains, and a few coxcombs, with more wit than understanding.' 'nothing,' he continues, 'could raise up panegyrists of these societies but what has lately happened, an attempt to suppress them. the solicitor-general has brought a bill into parliament for this purpose. the bill is drawn artfully enough; for, as these societies are held on sundays, and people pay for admittance, he has joined them with a famous tea-drinking house [carlisle house], involving them both in the same fate, and entitling his bill, _a bill to regulate certain abuses and profanations of the lord's day_.' the bill was carried; on a division none being found among the noes but the two tellers. the penalties for holding a meeting were £ for the master of the house, £ for the moderator of the meeting, and £ for each of the servants at the door. _parl. hist._ xxii. , . [ ] _st. matthew_, xxvii. . [ ] i _corinthians_, xv. . [ ] as this subject frequently recurs in these volumes, the reader may be led erroneously to suppose that dr. johnson was so fond of such discussions, as frequently to introduce them. but the truth is, that the authour himself delighted in talking concerning ghosts, and what he has frequently denominated _the mysterious_; and therefore took every opportunity of _leading_ johnson to converse on such subjects. malone. see _ante_, i. . [ ] macbean (johnson's old amanuensis, _ante_, i. ) is not in boswell's list of guests; but in the pemb. coll. mss., there is the following entry on monday, april :--'yesterday at dinner were mrs. hall, mr. levet, macbean, boswel (sic), allen. time passed in talk after dinner. at seven, i went with mrs. hall to church, and came back to tea.' [ ] mrs. piozzi records (_anec_. p. ) that he said 'a long time after my poor mother's death, i heard her voice call _sam_.' she is so inaccurate that most likely this is merely her version of the story that boswell has recorded above. see also _ante_, i. . lord macaulay made more of this story of the voice than it could well bear--'under the influence of his disease, his senses became morbidly torpid, and his imagination morbidly active. at one time he would stand poring on the town clock without being able to tell the hour. at another, he would distinctly hear his mother, who was many miles off, calling him by his name. but this was not the worst.' macaulay's _writings and speeches_, ed. , p. . [ ] 'one wife is too much for most husbands to bear, but two at a time there's no mortal can bear.' act iii. sc. . [ ] 'i think a person who is terrified with the imagination of ghosts and spectres much more reasonable than one who, contrary to the reports of all historians, sacred and profane, ancient and modern, and to the traditions of all nations, thinks the appearance of spirits fabulous and groundless.' _the spectator_, no. . [ ] _st. matthew_, chap. xxvii. vv. , . boswell. [ ] garrick died on jan. , . [ ] garrick called her _nine_, (the nine muses). 'nine,' he said, 'you are a _sunday woman_.' h. more's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] see vol. iii. p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] boswell is quoting from johnson's eulogium on garrick in his _life of edmund smith. works_, vii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] how fond she and her husband had been is shewn in a letter, in which, in answer to an invitation, he says:--'as i have not left mrs. garrick one day since we were married, near twenty-eight years, i cannot now leave her.' _garrick corres._ ii. . 'garrick's widow is buried with him. she survived him forty-three years--"a little bowed-down old woman, who went about leaning on a gold-headed cane, dressed in deep widow's mourning, and always talking of her dear davy." (_pen and ink sketches_, ).' stanley's _westminster abbey_, ed. , p. . [ ] _love's labour's lost_, act ii. sc. i. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) describes hollis as 'a most excellent man, a most immaculate whig, but as simple a poor soul as ever existed, except his editor, who has given extracts from the good creature's diary that are very near as anile as ashmole's. there are thanks to god for reaching every birthday, ... and thanks to heaven for her majesty's being delivered of a third or fourth prince, and _god send he may prove a good man_.' see also walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . dr. franklin wrote much more highly of him. speaking of what he had done, he said:--'it is prodigious the quantity of good that may be done by one man, _if he will make a business of it_.' franklin's memoirs, ed. , iii. . [ ] see p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] on april of the next year this gentleman, when secretary of the treasury, destroyed himself, overwhelmed, just as cowper had been, by the sense of the responsibility of an office which had been thrust upon him. see hannah more's _memoirs_, i. , and walpole's _letters_, viii. . [ ] 'it is commonly supposed that the uniformity of a studious life affords no matter for a narration; but the truth is, that of the most studious life a great part passes without study. an author partakes of the common condition of humanity; he is born and married like another man; he has hopes and fears, expectations and disappointments, griefs and joys, and friends and enemies, like a courtier, or a statesman; nor can i conceive why his affairs should not excite curiosity as much as the whisper of a drawing-room or the factions of a camp.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] hannah more wrote of this day (_memoirs_, i. ):--'i accused dr. johnson of not having done justice to the _allegro_ and _penseroso_. he spoke disparagingly of both. i praised _lycidas_, which he absolutely abused, adding, "if milton had not written the _paradise lost_, he would have only ranked among the minor poets. he was a phidias that could cut a colossus out of a rock, but could not cut heads out of cherry-stones."' see _post_, june , . the _allegro_ and _penseroso_ johnson described as 'two noble efforts of imagination.' of _lycidas_ he wrote:--'surely no man could have fancied that he read it with pleasure, had he not known the author.' _works_, vii. , . [ ] murphy (_life of garrick_, p. ) says 'shortly after garrick's death johnson was told in a large company, "you are recent from the _lives of the poets_; why not add your friend garrick to the number?" johnson's answer was, "i do not like to be officious; but if mrs. garrick will desire me to do it, i shall be very willing to pay that last tribute to the memory of a man i loved." 'murphy adds that he himself took care that mrs. garrick was informed of what johnson had said, but that no answer was ever received. [ ] miss burney wrote in may:--'dr. johnson was charming, both in spirits and humour. i really think he grows gayer and gayer daily, and more _ductile_ and pleasant.' in june she wrote:--'i found him in admirable good-humour, and our journey [to streatham] was extremely pleasant. i thanked him for the last batch of his poets, and we talked them over almost all the way.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , . beattie, a week or two later, wrote:--'johnson grows in grace as he grows in years. he not only has better health and a fresher complexion than ever he had before (at least since i knew him), but he has contracted a gentleness of manner which pleases everybody.' beattie's _life_, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . wilkes was by this time city chamberlain. 'i think i see him at this moment,' said rogers (_table-talk_, p. ), 'walking through the crowded streets of the city, as chamberlain, on his way to guildhall, in a scarlet coat, military boots, and a bag-wig--the hackney-coachmen in vain calling out to him, "a coach, your honour."' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , for beattie's _essay on truth_. [ ] thurot, in the winter of - , with a small squadron made descents on some of the hebrides and on the north-eastern coast of ireland. in a sea fight off ireland he was killed and his ships were taken. _gent. mag_. xxx. . horace walpole says that in the alarm raised by him in ireland, 'the bankers there stopped payment.' _memoirs of the reign of george ii_, iii. . [ ] 'some for renown on scraps of learning doat, and think they grow immortal as they quote.' young's _love of fame_, sat. i. cumberland (_memoirs_, ii. ) says that mr. dilly, speaking of 'the profusion of quotations which some writers affectedly make use of, observed that he knew a presbyterian parson who, for eighteenpence, would furnish any pamphleteer with as many scraps of greek and latin as would pass him off for an accomplished classic.' [ ] cowley was quite out of fashion. richardson (_corres._ ii. ) wrote more than thirty years earlier:--'i wonder cowley is so absolutely neglected.' pope, a dozen years or so before richardson, asked, 'who now reads cowley? if he pleases yet, his moral pleases, not his pointed wit.' _imitations of horace_, epis. ii. i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'there was a club held at the king's head in pall mall that arrogantly called itself the world. lord stanhope (now lord chesterfield) was a member. epigrams were proposed to be written on the glasses by each member after dinner. once when dr. young was invited thither, the doctor would have declined writing because he had no diamond, lord stanhope lent him his, and he wrote immediately-- "_accept_ a miracle," &c.' spence's _anecdotes_, p. . dr. maty (_memoirs of chesterfield_, i. ) assigns the lines to pope, and lays the scene at lord cobham's. spence, however, gives young himself as his authority. [ ] 'aug. . "i wonder," said mrs. thrale, "you bear with my nonsense." "no, madam, you never talk nonsense; you have as much sense and more wit than any woman i know." "oh," cried mrs. thrale, blushing, "it is my turn to go under the table this morning, miss burney." "and yet," continued the doctor, with the most comical look, "i have known all the wits from mrs. montagu down to bet flint." "bet flint!" cried mrs. thrale. "pray, who is she?" "oh, a fine character, madam. she was habitually a slut and a drunkard, and occasionally a thief and a harlot.... mrs. williams," he added, "did not love bet flint, but bet flint made herself very easy about that."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. , . [ ] johnson, whose memory was wonderfully retentive [see _ante_, i. ], remembered the first four lines of this curious production, which have been communicated to me by a young lady of his acquaintance:-- 'when first i drew my vital breath, a little minikin i came upon earth; and then i came from a dark abode, into this gay and gaudy world.' boswell. [ ] the _sessional reports of the old bailey trials_ for , p. , contain a report of the trial. the chief justice willes was in the commission, but, according to the _report_, it was before the recorder that bet flint was tried. it may easily be, however, that either the reporter or the printer has blundered. it is only by the characters * and Â� that the trials before the chief justice and the recorder are distinguished. bet had stolen not only the counterpane, but five other articles. the prosecutrix could not prove that the articles were hers, and not a captain's, whose servant she said she had been, and who was now abroad. on this ground the prisoner was acquitted. of chief justice willes, horace walpole writes:--'he was not wont to disguise any of his passions. that for gaming was notorious; for women unbounded.' he relates an anecdote of his wit and licentiousness. walpole's _reign of george ii_, i. . he had been johnson's schoolfellow (_ante_, i. ). [ ] burke is meant. see _ante_, ii. , where johnson said that burke spoke too familiarly; and _post_, may , , where he said that 'when burke lets himself down to jocularity he is in the kennel.' [ ] wilkes imperfectly recalled to mind the following passage in plutarch:--'[greek: euphranor ton thaesea ton heatou to parrhasiou parebale, legon tor men ekeinou hroda bebrokenai, tor de eautou krea boeia.]' 'euphranor, comparing his own theseus with parrhasius's, said that parrhasius's had fed on roses, but his on beef.' _plutarch_, ed. , iii. . [ ] portugal, receiving from brazil more gold than it needed for home uses, shipped a large quantity to england. it was said, though probably with exaggeration, that the weekly packet-boat from lisbon, brought one week with another, more than £ , in gold to england. smith's _wealth of nations_, book iv. ch. . portugal pieces were current in our colonies, and no doubt were commonly sent to them from london. it was natural therefore that they should be selected for this legal fiction. [ ] see _ante_, ii. iii. [ ] 'whenever the whole of our foreign trade and consumption exceeds our exportation of commodities, our money must go to pay our debts so contracted, whether melted or not melted down. if the law makes the exportation of our coin penal, it will be melted down; if it leaves the exportation of our coin free, as in holland, it will be carried out in specie. one way or other, go it must, as we see in spain.... laws made against exportation of money or bullion will be all in vain. restraint or liberty in that matter makes no country rich or poor.' locke's _works_, ed. , iv. . [ ] 'nov. , . mr. beauclerk has built a library in great russellstreet, that reaches half way to highgate. everybody goes to see it; it has put the museum's nose quite out of joint.' walpole's _letters_, vii. . it contained upwards of , volumes, and the sale extended over fifty days. two days' sale were given to the works on divinity, including, in the words of the catalogue, 'heterodox! et increduli. angl. freethinkers and their opponents.' _dr. johnson: his friends and his critics_, p. . it sold for £ , (ante, in. , note ). wilkes's own library--a large one--had been sold in , in a five days' sale, as is shewn by the _auctioneer's catalogue_, which is in the bodleian. [ ] 'our own language has from the reformation to the present time been chiefly dignified and adorned by the works of our divines, who, considered as commentators, controvertists, or preachers, have undoubtedly left all other nations far behind them.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] mr. wilkes probably did not know that there is in an english sermon the most comprehensive and lively account of that entertaining faculty, for which he himself is so much admired. it is in dr. barrow's first volume, and fourteenth sermon, _'against foolish talking and jesting.'_ my old acquaintance, the late corbyn morris, in his ingenious _essay on wit, humour, and ridicule_, calls it 'a profuse description of wit;' but i do not see how it could be curtailed, without leaving out some good circumstance of discrimination. as it is not generally known, and may perhaps dispose some to read sermons, from which they may receive real advantage, while looking only for entertainment, i shall here subjoin it:--'but first (says the learned preacher) it may be demanded, what the thing we speak of is? or what this facetiousness (or _wit_ as he calls it before) doth import? to which questions i might reply, as democritus did to him that asked the definition of a man, "'tis that which we all see and know." any one better apprehends what it is by acquaintance, than i can inform him by description. it is, indeed, a thing so versatile and multiform, appearing in so many shapes, so many postures, so many garbs, so variously apprehended by several eyes and judgements, that it seemeth no less hard to settle a clear and certain notion thereof, than to make a portrait of proteus, or to define the figure of the fleeting air. sometimes it lieth in pat allusion to a known story, or in seasonable application of a trivial saying, or in forging an apposite tale; sometimes it playeth in words and phrases, taking advantage from the ambiguity of their sense, or the affinity of their sound: sometimes it is wrapped in a dress of humorous expression: sometimes it lurketh under an odd similitude: sometimes it is lodged in a sly question, in a smart answer, in a quirkish reason, in a shrewd intimation, in cunningly diverting or cleverly retorting an objection: sometimes it is couched in a bold scheme of speech, in a tart irony, in a lusty hyperbole, in a startling metaphor, in a plausible reconciling of contradictions, or in acute nonsense: sometimes a scenical representation of persons or things, a counterfeit speech, a mimical look or gesture, passeth for it: sometimes an affected simplicity, sometimes a presumptuous bluntness giveth it being: sometimes it riseth only from a lucky hitting upon what is strange: sometimes from a crafty wresting obvious matter to the purpose. often it consisteth in one knows not what, and springeth up one can hardly tell how. its ways are unaccountable, and inexplicable; being answerable to the numberless rovings of fancy, and windings of language. it is, in short, a manner of speaking out of the simple and plain way, (such as reason teacheth and proveth things by,) which by a pretty surprising uncouthness in conceit or expression, doth affect and amuse the fancy, stirring in it some wonder, and breeding some delight thereto. it raiseth admiration, as signifying a nimble sagacity of apprehension, a special felicity of invention, a vivacity of spirit, and reach of wit more than vulgar; it seeming to argue a rare quickness of parts, that one can fetch in remote conceits applicable; a notable skill, that he can dextrously accommodate them to the purpose before him; together with a lively briskness of humour, not apt to damp those sportful flashes of imagination. (whence in aristotle such persons are termed [greek: _hepidexioi_], dextrous men, and [greek: _eustrophoi_], men of facile or versatile manners, who can easily turn themselves to all things, or turn all things to themselves.) it also procureth delight, by gratifying curiosity with its rareness, as semblance of difficulty: (as monsters, not for their beauty, but their rarity; as juggling tricks, not for their use, but their abstruseness, are beheld with pleasure:) by diverting the mind from its road of serious thoughts; by instilling gaiety and airiness of spirit; by provoking to such dispositions of spirit in way of emulation or complaisance; and by seasoning matters, otherwise distasteful or insipid, with an unusual and thence grateful tang.' boswell. morris's _essay_ was published in . hume wrote:--'pray do you not think that a proper dedication may atone for what is objectionable in my dialogues'! i am become much of my friend corbyn morrice's mind, who says that he writes all his books for the sake of the dedications.' j. h. burton's _hume_, ii. . [ ] the quarrel arose from the destruction by george ii. of george i.'s will (_ante_, ii. ). the king of prussia, frederick the great, was george i.'s grandson. 'vague rumours spoke of a large legacy to the queen of prussia [frederick's mother]. of that bequest demands were afterwards said to have been frequently and roughly made by her son, the great king of prussia, between whom and his uncle subsisted much inveteracy.' walpole's _letters_, i. cxx. [ ] when i mentioned this to the bishop of killaloe, 'with the goat,' said his lordship. such, however, is the engaging politeness and pleasantry of mr. wilkes, and such the social good humour of the bishop, that when they dined together at mr. dilly's, where i also was, they were mutually agreeable. boswell. it was not the lion, but the leopard, that shall lie down with the kid. _isaiah_, xi. . [ ] mr. benjamin stillingfleet, authour of tracts relating to natural history, &c. boswell. [ ] mrs. montagu, so early as , wrote of mr. stillingfleet:--'i assure you our philosopher is so much a man of pleasure, he has left off his old friends and his blue stockings, and is at operas and other gay assemblies every night.' montagu's _letters_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, in. , note . [ ] miss burney thus describes her:--'she is between thirty and forty, very short, very fat, but handsome; splendidly and fantastically dressed, rouged not unbecomingly yet evidently, and palpably desirous of gaining notice and admiration. she has an easy levity in her air, manner, voice, and discourse, that speak (sic) all within to be comfortable.... she is one of those who stand foremost in collecting all extraordinary or curious people to her london conversaziones, which, like those of mrs. vesey, mix the rank and the literature, and exclude all beside.... her parties are the most brilliant in town.' miss burney then describes one of these parties, at which were present johnson, burke, and reynolds. 'the company in general were dressed with more brilliancy than at any rout i ever was at, as most of them were going to the duchess of cumberland's.' miss burney herself was 'surrounded by strangers, all dressed superbly, and all looking saucily.... dr. johnson was standing near the fire, and environed with listeners.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , , . leslie wrote of lady corke in (_autobiographical recollections_, i. , ):--'notwithstanding her great age, she is very animated. the old lady, who was a lion-hunter in her youth, is as much one now as ever.' she ran after a boston negro named prince saunders, who 'as he put his christian name "prince" on his cards without the addition of mr., was believed to be a native african prince, and soon became a lion of the first magnitude in fashionable circles.' she died in . [ ] 'a lady once ventured to ask dr. johnson how he liked yorick's [sterne's] _sermons_. "i know nothing about them, madam," was his reply. but some time afterwards, forgetting himself, he severely censured them. the lady retorted:--"i understood you to say, sir, that you had never read them." "no, madam, i did read them, but it was in a stage-coach; i should not have even deigned to look at them had i been at large." cradock's _memoirs_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] next day i endeavoured to give what had happened the most ingenious turn i could, by the following verses:-- to the honourable miss monckton. 'not that with th' excellent montrose i had the happiness to dine; not that i late from table rose, from graham's wit, from generous wine. it was not these alone which led on sacred manners to encroach; and made me feel what most i dread, johnson's just frown, and self-reproach. but when i enter'd, not abash'd, from your bright eyes were shot such rays, at once intoxication flash'd, and all my frame was in a blaze. but not a brilliant blaze i own, of the dull smoke i'm yet asham'd; i was a dreary ruin grown, and not enlighten'd though inflam'd. victim at once to wine and love, i hope, maria, you'll forgive; while i invoke the powers above, that henceforth i may wiser live.' the lady was generously forgiving, returned me an obliging answer, and i thus obtained an _act of oblivion_, and took care never to offend again. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iv. , note i. [ ] on may horace walpole wrote (_letters_, viii. ):--'boswell, that quintessence of busybodies, called on me last week, and was let in, which he should not have been, could i have foreseen it. after tapping many topics, to which i made as dry answers as an unbribed oracle, he vented his errand. "had i seen dr. johnson's _lives of the poets_?" i said slightly, "no, not yet;" and so overlaid his whole impertinence.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note ; , note i; and iii. , for explanations of like instances of boswell's neglect. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'he owned he sometimes talked for victory.' boswell's _hebrides_, opening pages. [ ] the late right hon. william gerard hamilton. malone. [ ] dr. johnson, being told of a man who was thankful for being introduced to him, 'as he had been convinced in a long dispute that an opinion which he had embraced as a settled truth was no better than a vulgar error, "nay," said he, "do not let him be thankful, for he was right, and i was wrong." like his uncle andrew in the ring at smithfield, johnson, in a circle of disputants, was determined neither to be thrown nor conquered.' murphy's _johnson_, p. . johnson, in _the adventurer_, no. , seems to describe his own talk. he writes:--' while the various opportunities of conversation invite us to try every mode of argument, and every art of recommending our sentiments, we are frequently betrayed to the use of such as are not in themselves strictly defensible; a man heated in talk, and eager of victory, takes advantage of the mistakes or ignorance of his adversary, lays hold of concessions to which he knows he has no right, and urges proofs likely to prevail on his opponent, though he knows himself that they have no force.' j. s. mill gives somewhat the same account of his own father. 'i am inclined to think,' he writes, 'that he did injustice to his own opinions by the unconscious exaggerations of an intellect emphatically polemical; and that when thinking without an adversary in view, he was willing to make room for a great portion of the truths he seemed to deny.' mill's _autobiography_, p. . see also _ante_, ii. , , in. , , ; and _post_, may , , and steevens's account of johnson just before june , . [ ] thomas shaw, d.d., author of _travels to barbary and the levant_. [ ] see ante, iii. . [ ] the friend very likely was boswell himself. he was one of 'these _tanti_ men.' 'i told paoli that in the very heat of youth i felt the _nom est tanti_, the _omnia vanitas_ of one who has exhausted all the sweets of his being, and is weary with dull repetition. i told him that i had almost become for ever incapable of taking a part in active life.' boswell's _corsica_, ed. , p. . [ ] _letters on the english nation: by batista angeloni, a jesuit, who resided many years in london. translated from the original italian by the author of the marriage act. a novel_. vols. london [no printer's name given], . shebbeare published besides six _letters to the people of england_ in the years - , for the last of which he was sentenced to the pillory. _ante_, iii. , note i. horace walpole (_letters_, iii. ) described him in as 'a broken jacobite physician, who has threatened to write himself into a place or the pillory.' [ ] i recollect a ludicrous paragraph in the newspapers, that the king had pensioned both a _he_-bear and a _she_-bear. boswell. see _ante_, ii. , and _post_, april , . [ ] witness, ye chosen train who breathe the sweets of his saturnian reign; witness ye hills, ye johnsons, scots, shebbeares, hark to my call, for some of you have ears.' _heroic epistle_. see _post_, under june , . [ ] in this he was unlike the king, who, writes horace walpole,' expecting only an attack on chambers, bought it to tease, and began reading it to, him; but, finding it more bitter on himself, flung it down on the floor in a passion, and would read no more.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] they were published in in a pamphlet of pages, and, with the good fortune that attends a muse in the peerage, reached a third edition in the year. to this same earl the second edition of byron's _hours of idleness_ was 'dedicated by his obliged ward and affectionate kinsman, the author.' in _english bards and scotch reviewers_, he is abused in the passage which begins:-- 'no muse will cheer with renovating smile, the paralytic puling of carlisle.' in a note byron adds:--'the earl of carlisle has lately published an eighteen-penny pamphlet on the state of the stage, and offers his plan for building a new theatre. it is to be hoped his lordship will be permitted to bring forward anything for the stage--except his own tragedies.' in the third canto of _childe harold_ byron makes amends. in writing of the death of lord carlisle's youngest son at waterloo, he says:-- 'their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine; yet one i would select from that proud throng, partly because they blend me with his line, and partly that i did his sire some wrong.' for his lordship's tragedy see _post_, under nov. , . [ ] men of rank and fortune, however, should be pretty well assured of having a real claim to the approbation of the publick, as writers, before they venture to stand forth. dryden, in his preface to _all for love_, thus expresses himself:-- 'men of pleasant conversation (at least esteemed so) and endued with a trifling kind of fancy, perhaps helped out by [with] a smattering of latin, are ambitious to distinguish themselves from the herd of gentlemen, by their poetry: _"rarus enim fermè sensus communis in ilia fortuna,"----[juvenal_, viii. .] and is not this a wretched affectation, not to be contented with what fortune has done for them, and sit down quietly with their estates, but they must call their wits in question, and needlessly expose their nakedness to publick view? not considering that they are not to expect the same approbation from sober men, which they have found from their flatterers after the third bottle: if a little glittering in discourse has passed them on us for witty men, where was the necessity of undeceiving the world? would a man who has an ill title to an estate, but yet is in possession of it, would he bring it of his own accord to be tried at westminster? we who write, if we want the talents [talent], yet have the excuse that we do it for a poor subsistence; but what can be urged in their defence, who, not having the vocation of poverty to scribble, out of mere wantonness take pains to make themselves ridiculous? horace was certainly in the right where he said, "that no man is satisfied with his own condition." a poet is not pleased, because he is not rich; and the rich are discontented because the poets will not admit them of their number.' boswell. boswell, it should seem, had followed swift's advice:-- 'read all the prefaces of dryden, for these our critics much confide in; though merely writ at first for filling, to raise the volume's price a shilling.' swift's _works_, ed. , xi. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] wordsworth, it should seem, held with johnson in this. when he read the article in the _edinburgh review_ on lord byron's early poems, he remarked that 'though byron's verses were probably poor enough, yet such an attack was abominable,--that a young nobleman, who took to poetry, deserved to be encouraged, not ridiculed.' rogers's _table-talk_, p. , note. [ ] dr. barnard, formerly dean of derry. see _ante_, iii. . [ ] this gave me very great pleasure, for there had been once a pretty smart altercation between dr. barnard and him, upon a question, whether a man could improve himself after the age of forty-five; when johnson in a hasty humour, expressed himself in a manner not quite civil. dr. barnard made it the subject of a copy of pleasant verses, in which he supposed himself to learn different perfections from different men. they concluded with delicate irony:-- 'johnson shall teach me how to place in fairest light each borrow'd grace; from him i'll learn to write; copy his clear familiar style, and by the roughness of his file grow, like _himself, polite_.' i know not whether johnson ever saw the poem, but i had occasion to find that as dr. barnard and he knew each other better, their mutual regard increased. boswell. see appendix a. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , iii. , and _post_, march , . [ ] 'sir joshua once asked lord b---- to dine with dr. johnson and the rest, but though a man of rank and also of good information, he seemed as much alarmed at the idea as if you had tried to force him into one of the cages at exeter-change.' hazlitt's _conversations of northcote_, p. . [ ] yet when he came across them he met with much respect. at alnwick he was, he writes, 'treated with great civility by the duke of northumberland.' _piozzi letters_, i. . at inverary, the duke and duchess of argyle shewed him great attention. boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . in fact, all through his scotch tour he was most politely welcomed by 'the great.' at chatsworth, he was 'honestly pressed to stay' by the duke and duchess of devonshire (_post_, sept. , ). see _ante_, iii. . on the other hand, mrs. barbauld says:--'i believe it is true that in england genius and learning obtain less personal notice than in most other parts of europe.' she censures 'the contemptuous manner in which lady wortley montagu mentioned richardson:--"the doors of the great," she says, "were never opened to him."' _richardson corres._ i. clxxiv. [ ] when lord elibank was seventy years old, he wrote:--'i shall be glad to go five hundred miles to enjoy a day of his company.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] _romans_, x. . [ ] i _peter_, iii. . [ ] horace walpole wrote three years earlier:--' whig principles are founded on sense; a whig may be a fool, a tory must be so.' _letters_, vii. . [ ] mr. barclay, a descendant of robert barclay, of ury, the celebrated apologist of the people called quakers, and remarkable for maintaining the principles of his venerable progenitor, with as much of the elegance of modern manners, as is consistent with primitive simplicity, boswell. [ ] now bishop of llandaff, one of the _poorest_ bishopricks in this kingdom. his lordship has written with much zeal to show the propriety of _equalizing_ the revenues of bishops. he has informed us that he has burnt all his chemical papers. the friends of our excellent constitution, now assailed on every side by innovators and levellers, would have less regretted the suppression of some of this lordship's other writings. boswell. boswell refers to _a letter to the archbishop of canterbury by richard, lord bishop of landaff_, . if the revenues were made more equal, 'the poorer bishops,' the bishop writes, 'would be freed from the necessity of holding ecclesiastical preferments _in commendam_ with their bishopricks,' p. . [ ] de quincey says that sir humphry davy told him, 'that he could scarcely imagine a time, or a condition of the science, in which the bishop's _essays_ would be superannuated.' de quincey's _works_, ii. . de quincey describes the bishop as being 'always a discontented man, a railer at the government and the age, which could permit such as his to pine away ingloriously in one of the humblest among the bishopricks.' _ib_. p. . he was, he adds, 'a true whig,' and would have been made archbishop of york had his party staid in power a little longer in .' [ ] _rasselas_, chap. xi. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] 'they heard the voice of the lord god walking in the garden.' _genesis_, iii. . [ ] ... 'vivendi recte qui prorogat horam, rusticus expectat dum defluat amnis; at ille labitur et labetur in omne volubilis aevum.' 'and sure the man who has it in his power to practise virtue, and protracts the hour, waits like the rustic till the river dried; still glides the river, and will ever glide.' francis. horace, _epist_. i. . . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] this assertion is disproved by a comparison of dates. the first four satires of young were published in ; the south sea scheme (which appears to be meant,) was in . malone. in croft's _life of young_, which johnson adopted, it is stated:--'by the _universal passion_ he acquired no vulgar fortune, more than £ . a considerable sum had already been swallowed up in the south sea.' johnson's _works_, viii. . some of young's poems were published before . [ ] crabbe got johnson to revise his poem, _the village_ (_post_, under march , ). he states, that 'the doctor did not readily comply with requests for his opinion; not from any unwillingness to oblige, but from a painful contention in his mind between a desire of giving pleasure and a determination to speak truth.' crabbe's _works_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. , , and iii. . [ ] pope's _essay on man_, iv. . see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] he had within the last seven weeks gone up drunk, at least twice, to a lady's drawing-room. _ante_, pp. , note , and . [ ] mr. croker, though without any authority, prints _unconscious_. [ ] i corinthians, ix. . see _ante_, . [ ] 'we walk by faith, not by sight.' corinthians, v. [ ] dr. ogden, in his second sermon _on the articles of the christian faith_, with admirable acuteness thus addresses the opposers of that doctrine, which accounts for the confusion, sin and misery, which we find in this life: 'it would be severe in god, you think, to _degrade_ us to such a sad state as this, for the offence of our first parents: but you can allow him to _place_ us in it without any inducement. are our calamities lessened for not being ascribed to adam? if your condition be unhappy, is it not still unhappy, whatever was the occasion? with the aggravation of this reflection, that if it was as good as it was at first designed, there seems to be somewhat the less reason to look for its amendment.' boswell. [ ] 'which taketh away the sin' &c. st. john, i. . [ ] see boswell's hebrides, august . [ ] this unfortunate person, whose full name was thomas fysche palmer, afterwards went to dundee, in scotland, where he officiated as minister to a congregation of the sect who called themselves _unitarians_, from a notion that they distinctively worship one god, because they _deny_ the mysterious doctrine of the trinity. they do not advert that the great body of the christian church, in maintaining that mystery, maintain also the _unity_ of the godhead; the 'trinity in unity!--three persons and one god.' the church humbly adores the divinity as exhibited in the holy scriptures. the unitarian sect vainly presumes to comprehend and define the almighty. mr. palmer having heated his mind with political speculations, became so much dissatisfied with our excellent constitution, as to compose, publish, and circulate writings, which were found to be so seditious and dangerous, that upon being found guilty by a jury, the court of justiciary in scotland sentenced him to transportation for fourteen years. a loud clamour against this sentence was made by some members of both houses of parliament; but both houses approved of it by a great majority; and he was conveyed to the settlement for convicts in new south wales. boswell. this note first appears in the third edition. mr. palmer was sentenced to seven (not fourteen) years transportation in aug. . it was his fellow prisoner, mr. muir, an advocate, who was sentenced to fourteen years. _ann. reg._ , p. . when these sentences were brought before the house of commons, mr. fox said that it was 'the lord-advocate's fervent wish that his native principles of justice should be introduced into this country; and that on the ruins of the common law of england should be erected the infamous fabric of scottish persecution. ... if that day should ever arrive, if the tyrannical laws of scotland should ever be introduced in opposition to the humane laws of england, it would then be high time for my hon. friends and myself to settle our affairs, and retire to some happier clime, where we might at least enjoy those rights which god has given to man, and which his nature tells him he has a right to demand.' _parl. hist._ xxx. . for _unitarians_, see _ante_, ii. , note i. [ ] taken from herodotus. [bk. ii. ch. .] boswell. [ ] 'the mummies,' says blakesley, 'have straight hair, and in the paintings the egyptians are represented as red, not black.' _ib_. note. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_, march , and june , . [ ] mr. dawkins visited palmyra in . he had 'an escort of the aga of hassia's best arab horsemen.' johnson was perhaps astonished at the size of their caravan, 'which was increased to about persons.' the writer treats the whole matter with great brevity. wood's _ruins of palmyra_, p. . on their return the travellers discovered a party of arab horsemen, who gave them an alarm. happily these arabs were still more afraid of them, and were at once plundered by the escort, 'who laughed at our remonstrances against their injustice.' wood's _ruins of balbec_, p. . [ ] he wrote a _life of watts_, which johnson quoted. _works_, viii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] in the first two editions _formal_. [ ] johnson maintains this in _the idler_, no. . 'few,' he says, 'have reason to complain of nature as unkindly sparing of the gifts of memory ... the true art of memory is the art of attention.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ]the first of the definitions given by johnson of _to remember_ is _to bear in mind anything; not to forget. to recollect_ he defines _to recover to memory_. we may, perhaps, assume that boswell said, 'i did not recollect that the chair was broken;' and that johnson replied, 'you mean, you did not remember. that you did not remember is your own fault. it was in your mind that it was broken, and therefore you ought to have remembered it. it was not a case of recollecting; for we recollect, that is, recover to memory, what is not in our mind.' in the passage _ante_, i. , which begins, 'i indeed doubt if he could have remembered,' we find in the first two editions not _remembered_, but _recollected_. perhaps this change is due to euphony, as _collected_ comes a few lines before. horace walpole, in one of his _letters_ (i. ), distinguishes the two words, on his revisiting his old school, eton:--'by the way, the clock strikes the old cracked sound--i recollect so much, and remember so little.' [ ] he made the same boast at st. andrews. see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. . he was, i believe, speaking of his translation of courayer's _life of paul sarpi and notes_, of which some sheets were printed off. _ante_, i. . [ ] horace walpole, after mentioning that george iii's mother, who died in , left but £ , when she was reckoned worth at least £ , , adds:--'it is no wonder that it became the universal belief that she had wasted all on lord bute. this became still more probable as he had made the purchase of the estate at luton, at the price of £ , , before he was visibly worth £ , ; had built a palace there, another in town, and had furnished the former in the most expensive manner, bought pictures and books, and made a vast park and lake.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . [ ] to him boswell dedicated his _thesis_ as _excelsae familiae de bute spei alterae_ (_ante_, ii. ). in , he wrote of him:--'he is warmly my friend and has engaged to do for me.' _letters of boswell_, p. [ ] he was mistaken in this. see _ante_, i. ; also iii. . [ ] in england in like manner, and perhaps for the same reason, all attorneys have been converted into solicitors. [ ] 'there is at edinburgh a society or corporation of errand boys, called cawdies, who ply in the streets at night with paper lanthorns, and are very serviceable in carrying messages.' _humphrey clinker_. letter of aug. . [ ] their services in this sense are noticed in the same letter. [ ] 'the formal process shall be turned to sport, and you dismissed with honour by the court.' francis. horace, _satires_, ii.i. . [ ] mr. robertson altered this word to _jocandi_, he having found in blackstone that to irritate is actionable. boswell. [ ] quoted by johnson, _ante_, ii. l . [ ] his god-daughter. see _post_ may , . [ ] see _post_, under dec. , [ ] see _ante_, i. [ ] the will of king alfred, alluded to in this letter, from the original saxon, in the library of mr. astle, has been printed at the expense of the university of oxford. boswell. [ ] he was a surgeon in this small norfolk town. dr. burney's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] burney visited johnson first in , when he was living in gough square. _ante_, i. . [ ] mme. d'arblay says that dr. johnson sent them to dr. burney's house, directed 'for the broom gentleman.' dr. burney's _memoirs_, ii. . [ ] 'sept. , . dr. johnson has been very unwell indeed. once i was quite frightened about him; but he continues his strange discipline--starving, mercury, opium; and though for a time half demolished by its severity, he always in the end rises superior both to the disease and the remedy, which commonly is the most alarming of the two.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . on sept. , his birthday, he wrote:--'as i came home [from church], i thought i had never begun any period of life so placidly. i have always been accustomed to let this day pass unnoticed, but it came this time into my mind that some little festivity was not improper. i had a dinner, and invited allen and levett.' _pr. and med._ p. . [ ] this remark, i have no doubt, is aimed at hawkins, who (_life_, p. ) pretends to account for this trip. [ ] _pr. and med._ p. . boswell. [ ] he wrote from lichfield on the previous oct. :--'all here is gloomy; a faint struggle with the tediousness of time; a doleful confession of present misery, and the approach seen and felt of what is most dreaded and most shunned. but such is the lot of man.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] the truth of this has been proved by sad experience. boswell. mrs. boswell died june , . malone. [ ] see account of him in the _gent. mag_. feb. . boswell, see ante, i. , note . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_synonymy_, ii. ), quoting this verse, under _officious_, says;--'johnson, always thinking neglect the worst misfortune that could befall a man, looked on a character of this description with less aversion than i do.' [ ] 'content thyself to be _obscurely good_.' addisons _cato_, act. iv. sc. . [ ] in both editions of sir john hawkins's _life of dr. johnson_, 'letter'd _ignorance_' is printed. boswell. mr. croker (_boswell_, p. i) says that 'mr. boswell is habitually unjust to sir j. hawkins.' as some kind of balance, i suppose, to this injustice, he suppresses this note. [ ] johnson repeated this line to me thus:-- 'and labour steals an hour to die.' but he afterwards altered it to the present reading. boswell. this poem is printed in the _ann. reg_. for , p. , with the following variations:--l. , for 'ready help' 'useful care': l. , 'his single talent,' 'the single talent'; l. , 'no throbs of fiery pain,' 'no throbbing fiery pain'; l. , 'and freed,' 'and forced.' on the next page it is printed _john gilpin_. [ ] mr. croker says that this line shows that 'some of gray's happy expressions lingered in johnson's memory' he quotes a line that comes at the end of the _ode on vicissitude_--'from busy day, the peaceful night.' this line is not gray's, but mason's. [ ] johnson wrote to mrs. thrale on aug. , :--'if you want events, here is mr. levett just come in at fourscore from a walk to hampstead, eight miles, in august.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] in the original, _march_ . on the afternoon of march lord north announced in the house of commons 'that his majesty's ministers were no more.' _parl. hist_. xxii. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. [ ]. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , iii. , iv. , . mr. seward records in his _biographiana_, p. --without however giving the year--that 'johnson being asked what the opposition meant by their flaming speeches and violent pamphlets against lord north's administration, answered: "they mean, sir, rebellion; they mean in spite to destroy that country which they are not permitted to govern."' [ ] in the previous december the city of london in an address, writes horace walpole, 'besought the king to remove both his public and _private_ counsellors, and used these stunning and memorable words:--_"your armies are captured; the wonted superiority of your navies is annihilated, your dominions are lost."_ words that could be used to no other king; no king had ever lost so much without losing all. if james ii. lost his crown, yet the crown lost no dominions.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . the address is given in the _ann. reg._ xxiv. . on aug. of this year johnson wrote to dr. taylor:--'perhaps no nation not absolutely conquered has declined so much in so short a time. we seem to be sinking. suppose the irish, having already gotten a free trade and an independent parliament, should say we will have a king and ally ourselves with the house of bourbon, what could be done to hinder or overthrow them?' mr. morrison's _autographs_, vol. ii. [ ] in february and march, , the house of commons ordered eight printers to attend at the bar on a charge of breach of privilege, in publishing reports of debates. one of the eight, miller of the _evening post_, when the messenger of the house tried to arrest him, gave the man himself into custody on a charge of assault. the messenger was brought before lord mayor crosby and aldermen wilkes and oliver, and a warrant was made out for his commitment. bail was thereupon offered and accepted for his appearance at the next sessions. the lord mayor and oliver were sent to the tower by the house. wilkes was ordered to appear on april ; but the ministry, not daring to face his appearance, adjourned the house till the th. a committee was appointed by ballot to inquire into the late obstructions to the execution of the orders of the house. it recommended the consideration of the expediency of the house ordering that miller should be taken into custody. the report, when read, was received with a roar of laughter. nothing was done. such was, to quote the words of burke in the _annual register_ (xiv. ), 'the miserable result of all the pretended vigour of the ministry.' see _parl. hist._ xvii. , . [ ] lord cornwallis's army surrendered at york town, five days before sir henry clinton's fleet and army arrived off the chesapeak. _ann. reg._ xxiv. . [ ] johnson wrote on march :--'the men have got in whom i have endeavoured to keep out; but i hope they will do better than their predecessors; it will not be easy to do worse.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] this note was in answer to one which accompanied one of the earliest pamphlets on the subject of chatterton's forgery, entitled _cursory observations on the poems attributed to thomas rowley_, &c. mr. thomas warton's very able _inquiry_ appeared about three months afterwards; and mr. tyrwhitt's admirable _vindication of his appendix_ in the summer of the same hear, left the believers in this daring imposture nothing but 'the resolution to say again what had been said before.' malone. [ ] _pr. and med._ p. . boswell. [ ] he addressed to him an ode in latin, entitled _ad thomam laurence, medicum doctissimum, quum filium peregre agentem desiderio nimis tristi prosequeretur. works_, i. . [ ] mr. holder, in the strand, dr. johnson's apothecary. boswell. [ ] 'johnson should rather have written "imperatum est." but the meaning of the words is perfectly clear. "if you say yes, the messenger has orders to bring holder to me." mr. croker translates the words as follows:-"if you consent, pray tell the messenger to bring holder to me." if mr. croker is resolved to write on points of classical learning, we would advise him to begin by giving an hour every morning to our old friend corderius.' macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i . in _the answers to mr. macaulay's criticism_, prefixed to croker's _boswell_, p. , it is suggested that johnson wrote either _imperetur_ or _imperator_. the letter may be translated: 'a fresh chill, a fresh cough, and a fresh difficulty in breathing call for a fresh letting of blood. without your advice, however, i would not submit to the operation. i cannot well come to you, nor need you come to me. say yes or no in one word, and leave the rest to holder and to me. if you say yes, let the messenger be bidden (imperetur) to bring holder to me. may , . when _you_ have left, whither shall i turn?' [ ] soon after the above letter, dr. lawrence left london, but not before the palsy had made so great a progress as to render him unable to write for himself. the folio wing are extracts from letters addressed by dr. johnson to one of his daughters:-- 'you will easily believe with what gladness i read that you had heard once again that voice to which we have all so often delighted to attend. may you often hear it. if we had his mind, and his tongue, we could spare the rest. 'i am not vigorous, but much better than when dear dr. lawrence held my pulse the last time. be so kind as to let me know, from one little interval to another, the state of his body. i am pleased that he remembers me, and hope that it never can be possible for me to forget him. july , .' 'i am much delighted even with the small advances which dear dr. lawrence makes towards recovery. if we could have again but his mind, and his tongue in his mind, and his right hand, we should not much lament the rest. i should not despair of helping the swelled hand by electricity, if it were frequently and diligently supplied. 'let me know from time to time whatever happens; and i hope i need not tell you, how much i am interested in every change. aug. , .' 'though the account with which you favoured me in your last letter could not give me the pleasure that i wished, yet i was glad to receive it; for my affection to my dear friend makes me desirous of knowing his state, whatever it be. i beg, therefore, that you continue to let me know, from time to time, all that you observe. 'many fits of severe illness have, for about three months past, forced my kind physician often upon my mind. i am now better; and hope gratitude, as well as distress, can be a motive to remembrance. bolt-court, fleet-street, feb. , .' boswell. [ ] mr. langton being at this time on duty at rochester, he is addressed by his military title. boswell. [ ] eight days later he recorded:--'i have in ten days written to aston, lucy, hector, langton, boswell; perhaps to all by whom my letters are desired.' _pr. and med._ . he had written also to mrs. thrale, but her affection, it should seem from this, he was beginning to doubt. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _post_, p. , note . [ ] johnson has here expressed a sentiment similar to that contained in one of shenstone's stanzas, to which, in his life of that poet, he has given high praise:-- 'i prized every hour that went by, beyond all that had pleased me before; but now they are gone [past] and i sigh, i grieve that i prized them no more.' j. boswell, jun. [ ] she was his god-daughter. see _post_, may , . [ ] 'dr. johnson gave a very droll account of the children of mr. langton, "who," he said, "might be very good children, if they were let alone; but the father is never easy when he is not making them do something which they cannot do; they must repeat a fable, or a speech, or the hebrew alphabet, and they might as well count twenty for what they know of the matter; however, the father says half, for he prompts every other word."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] a part of this letter having been torn off, i have, from the evident meaning, supplied a few words and half-words at the ends and beginnings of lines. boswell. [ ] see vol. ii. p. . boswell. she was hector's widowed sister, and johnson's first love. in the previous october, writing of a visit to birmingham, he said:--'mrs. careless took me under her care, and told me when i had tea enough.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] this letter cannot belong to this year. in it johnson says of his health, 'at least it is not worse.' but found him in very bad health; he passed almost the whole of the year 'in a succession of disorders' (_post_, p. ). what he says of friendship renders it almost certain that the letter was written while he had still thrale; and him he lost in april, . had it been written after june, , but before thrale's death, the account given of health would have been even better than it is (_ante_, iii. ). it belongs perhaps to the year or . [ ] 'to a man who has survived all the companions of his youth ... this full-peopled world is a dismal solitude.' _rambler_, no. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] they met on these days in the years , , , , , , , and . [ ] the ministry had resigned on the th. _ante_, p. , note . [ ] thirty-two years earlier he wrote in _the rambler_, no. :-'in the prospect of poverty there is nothing but gloom and melancholy; the mind and body suffer together; its miseries bring no alleviation; it is a state in which every virtue is obscured, and in which no conduct can avoid reproach.' and again in no. :--'the prospect of penury in age is so gloomy and terrifying, that every man who looks before him must resolve to avoid it; and it must be avoided generally by the science of sparing.' see _ante_. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] hannah more wrote in april of this year (_memoirs_, i. ):--'poor johnson is in a bad state of health. i fear his constitution is broken up.' (yet in one week he dined out four times. _piozzi letters_, ii. .) at one of these dinners, 'i urged him,' she continues (_ib_. p. ) 'to take a _little_ wine. he replied, "i can't drink a _little_, child; therefore, i never touch it. abstinence is as easy to me as temperance would be difficult." he was very good-humoured and gay. one of the company happened to say a word about poetry, "hush, hush," said he, "it is dangerous to say a word of poetry before her; it is talking of the art of war before hannibal."' [ ] this book was published in , and, according to lowndes, reached its seventh edition by . see _ante_, i. . [ ] the clergyman's letter was dated may . _gent. mag._ , p. . johnson is explaining the reason of his delay in acknowledging it. [ ] what follows appeared in the _morning chronicle_ of may , :--'a correspondent having mentioned, in the _morning chronicle_ of december , the last clause of the following paragraph, as seeming to favour suicide; we are requested to print the whole passage, that its true meaning may appear, which is not to recommend suicide but exercise. 'exercise cannot secure us from that dissolution to which we are decreed: but while the soul and body continue united, it can make the association pleasing, and give probable hopes that they shall be disjoined by an easy separation. it was a principle among the ancients, that acute diseases are from heaven, and chronical from ourselves; the dart of death, indeed, falls from heaven, but we poison it by our own misconduct: to die is the fate of man; but to die with lingering anguish is generally his folly.' [_the rambler_, no. .] boswell. [ ] the correspondence may be seen at length in the _gent. mag._ feb. . boswell. johnson, advising dr. taylor 'to take as much exercise as he can bear,' says:-'i take the true definition of exercise to be labour without weariness.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] here he met hannah more. 'you cannot imagine,' she writes (_memoirs_, i. ), 'with what delight he showed me every part of his own college. dr. adams had contrived a very pretty piece of gallantry. we spent the day and evening at his house. after dinner, johnson begged to conduct me to see the college; he would let no one show it me but himself. "this was my room; this shenstone's." then, after pointing out all the rooms of the poets who had been of his college, "in short," said he, "we were a nest of singing-birds." when we came into the common-room, we spied a fine large print of johnson, hung up that very morning, with this motto:--_and is not johnson ours, himself a host?_ under which stared you in the face--_from miss more's "sensibility_." this little incident amused us; but, alas! johnson looks very ill indeed--spiritless and wan. however, he made an effort to be cheerful.' miss adams wrote on june , :--'on wednesday we had here a delightful blue-stocking party. dr. and mrs. kennicott and miss more, dr. johnson, mr. henderson, &c., dined here. poor dr. johnson is in very bad health, but he exerted himself as much as he could, and being very fond of miss more, he talked a good deal, and every word he says is worth recording. he took great delight in showing miss more every part of pembroke college, and his own rooms, &c., and told us many things about himself when here. .. june , . we dined yesterday for the last time in the company with dr. johnson; he went away to-day. a warm dispute arose; it was about cider or wine freezing, and all the spirit retreating to the center.' _pemb. coll. mss._ [ ] 'i never retired to rest without feeling the justness of the spanish proverb, "let him who sleeps too much borrow the pillow of a debtor."' johnson's _works_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] which i celebrated in the church of england chapel at edinburgh, founded by lord chief baron smith, of respectable and pious memory. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the reverend mr. temple, vicar of st. gluvias, cornwall. boswell. see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] 'he had settled on his eldest son,' says dr. rogers (_boswelliana_, p. ), 'the ancestral estate, with an unencumbered rental of £l, a year.' that the rental, whatever it was, was not unencumbered is shewn by the passage from johnson's letter, _post_, p. , note . boswell wrote to malone in (croker's _boswell_, p. ):--'the clear money on which i can reckon out of my estate is scarcely £ a year.' [ ] cowley's _ode to liberty_, stanza vi. [ ] 'i do beseech all the succeeding heirs of entail,' wrote boswell in his will, 'to be kind to the tenants, and not to turn out old possessors to get a little more rent.' rogers's _boswelliana, p. . [ ] macleod, the laird of rasay. see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] a farm in the isle of skye, where johnson wrote his latin ode to mrs. thrale. _ib._ sept. . [ ] johnson wrote to dr. taylor on oct. :--'boswel's (sic) father is dead, and boswel wrote me word that he would come to london for my advice. [the] advice which i sent him is to stay at home, and [busy] himself with his own affairs. he has a good es[tate], considerably burthened by settlements, and he is himself in debt. but if his wife lives, i think he will be prudent.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] miss burney wrote in the first week in december:--'dr. johnson was in most excellent good humour and spirits.' she describes later on a brilliant party which he attended at miss monckton's on the th, where the people were 'superbly dressed,' and where he was 'environed with listeners.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , and . see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see _ante,_, iii. , where johnson got 'heated' when boswell maintained this. [ ] see _ante_, in. . [ ] the greatest part of the copy, or manuscript of _the lives of the poets_ had been given by johnson to boswell (_ante_, iv. ). [ ] of her twelve children but these three were living. she was forty-one years old. [ ] 'the family,' writes dr. burney, 'lived in the library, which used to be the parlour. there they breakfasted. over the bookcases were hung sir joshua's portraits of mr. thrale's friends--baretti, burke, burney, chambers, garrick, goldsmith, johnson, murphy, reynolds, lord sandys, lord westcote, and in the same picture mrs. thrale and her eldest daughter.' mr. thrale's portrait was also there. dr. burney's _memoirs_, ii. , and prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] _pr. and med._ p. . boswell. [ ] boswell omits a line that follows this prayer:--'o lord, so far as, &c.,--thrale.' this means, i think, 'so far as it might be lawful, i prayed for thrale.' the following day johnson entered:--'i was called early. i packed up my bundles, and used the foregoing prayer with my morning devotions, somewhat, i think, enlarged. being earlier than the family, i read st. paul's farewell in the _acts_ [xx. -end], and then read fortuitously in the gospels, which was my parting use of the library.' [ ] johnson, no doubt, was leaving streatham because mrs. thrale was leaving it. 'streatham,' wrote miss burney, on aug. of this year, 'my other home, and the place where i have long thought my residence dependent only on my own pleasure, is already let for three years to lord shelburne.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . johnson was not yet leaving the thrale family, for he joined them at brighton, and he was living with them the following spring in argyll-street. nevertheless, if, as all mrs. thrale's friends strongly held, her second marriage was blameworthy, boswell's remark admits of defence. miss burney in her diary and letters keeps the secret which mrs. thrale had confided to her of her attachment to mr. piozzi; but in the _memoirs of dr. burney_, which, as mme. d'arblay, she wrote long afterwards, she leaves little doubt that streatham was given up as a step towards the second marriage. in , on a visit there, she found that her father 'and all others--dr. johnson not excepted--were cast into the same gulf of general neglect. as mrs. thrale became more and more dissatisfied with her own situation, and impatient for its relief, she slighted johnson's counsel, and avoided his society.' mme. d'arblay describes a striking scene in which her father, utterly puzzled by 'sad and altered streatham,' left it one day with tears in his eyes. another day, johnson accompanied her to london. 'his look was stern, though dejected, but when his eye, which, however shortsighted, was quick to mental perception, saw how ill at ease she appeared, all sternness subsided into an undisguised expression of the strongest emotion, while, with a shaking hand and pointing finger, he directed her looks to the mansion from which they were driving; and when they faced it from the coach-window, as they turned into streatham common, tremulously exclaimed, "that house ...is lost to _me_... for ever."' johnson's letter to langton of march , (_ante_, p. ), in which he says that he was 'musing in his chamber at mrs. thrale's,' shews that so early as that date he foresaw that a change was coming. boswell's statement that 'mrs. thrale became less assiduous to please johnson,' might have been far more strongly worded. see dr. burney's _memoirs_, ii. - . lord shelburne, who as prime minister was negotiating peace with the united states, france, and spain, hired mrs. thrale's house 'in order to be constantly near london.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, iii. . [ ] mr. croker quotes the following from the _rose mss_.:--'oct. , die dominica, . pransus sum streathamiae agninum crus coctum cum herbis (spinach) comminutis, farcimen farinaceum cum uvis passis, lumbos bovillos, et pullum gallinae: turcicae; et post carnes missas, ficus, uvas, non admodum maturas, ita voluit anni intemperies, cum malis persicis, iis tamen duris. non laetus accubui, cibum modicè sumpsi, ne intemperantiâ ad extremum peccaretur. si recte memini, in mentem venerunt epulae in exequiis hadoni celebratae. streathamiam quando revisam?' [ ] 'mr. metcalfe is much with dr. johnson, but seems to have taken an unaccountable dislike to mrs. thrale, to whom he never speaks.... he is a shrewd, sensible, keen, and very clever man.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , . he, burke, and malone were sir joshua's executors. northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] boswell should have shown, for he must have known it, that johnson was mrs. thrale's guest at brighton. miss burney was also of the party. her account of him is a melancholy one:--'oct. . dr. johnson accompanied us to a ball, to the universal amazement of all who saw him there; but he said he had found it so dull being quite alone the preceding evening, that he determined upon going with us; "for," said he, "it cannot be worse than being alone."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . 'oct. . mr. pepys joined dr. johnson, with whom he entered into an argument, in which he was so roughly confuted, and so severely ridiculed, that he was hurt and piqued beyond all power of disguise, and, in the midst of the discourse, suddenly turned from him, and, wishing mrs. thrale goodnight, very abruptly withdrew. dr. johnson was certainly right with respect to the argument and to reason; but his opposition was so warm, and his wit so satirical and exulting, that i was really quite grieved to see how unamiable he appeared, and how greatly he made himself dreaded by all, and by many abhorred.' _ib_. p. . 'oct. . in the evening we all went to mrs. hatsel's. dr. johnson was not invited.' _ib_. p. . 'oct. . a note came to invite us all, except dr. johnson, to lady rothes's.' _ib_. p. . 'nov. . we went to lady shelley's. dr. johnson again excepted in the invitation. he is almost constantly omitted, either from too much respect or too much fear. i am sorry for it, as he hates being alone.' _ib_. p. . 'nov. . mr. metcalfe called upon dr. johnson, and took him out an airing. mr. hamilton is gone, and mr. metcalfe is now the only person out of this house that voluntarily communicates with the doctor. he has been in a terrible severe humour of late, and has really frightened all the people, till they almost ran from him. to me only i think he is now kind, for mrs. thrale fares worse than anybody.' _ib_. p. . [ ] '"dr. johnson has asked me," said mr. metcalfe, "to go with him to chichester, to see the cathedral, and i told him i would certainly go if he pleased; but why i cannot imagine, for how shall a blind man see a cathedral?" "i believe," quoth i [i.e. miss burney] "his blindness is as much the effect of absence as of infirmity, for he sees wonderfully at times."' _ib_. p. . for johnson's eyesight, see _ante_, i. . [ ] the second letter is dated the th. johnson says:--'i have looked _often_,' &c.; but he does not say 'he has been _much_ informed,' but only 'informed.' both letters are in the _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] the reference is to rawlinson's ms. collections for a continuation of wood's _athenae_ (macray's _annals of the bodleian_, p. ). [ ] jortin's sermons are described by johnson as 'very elegant.' _ante_, in. . he and thirlby are mentioned by him in the _life of pope. works_, viii. . [ ] markland was born , died . his notes on some of euripides' _plays_ were published at the expense of dr. heberden. markland had previously destroyed a great many other notes; writing in he said:--'probably it will be a long time (if ever) before this sort of learning will revive in england; in which it is easy to foresee that there must be a disturbance in a few years, and all public disorders are enemies to this sort of literature.' _gent. mag._ , p. l . 'i remember,' writes mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'when lamentation was made of the neglect shown to jeremiah markland, a great philologist, as some one ventured to call him: "he is a scholar undoubtedly, sir," replied dr. johnson, "but remember that he would run from the world, and that it is not the world's business to run after him. i hate a fellow whom pride, or cowardice, or laziness drives into a corner, and [who] does nothing when he is there but sit and _growl_; let him come out as i do, and _bark_"' a brief account of him is given in the _ann. reg._ xix. . [ ] nichols published in a brief account of thirlby, nearly half of it being written by johnson. thirlby was born in and died in . 'his versatility led him to try the round of what are called the learned professions.' his life was marred by drink and insolence.' his mind seems to have been tumultuous and desultory, and he was glad to catch any employment that might produce attention without anxiety; such employment, as dr. battie has observed, is necessary for madmen.' _gent. mag._ , pp. , . [ ] he was attacked, says northcote (_life of reynolds_, ii. ), 'by a slight paralytic affection, after an almost uninterrupted course of good health for many years.' miss burney wrote on dec. to one of her sisters:--'how can you wish any wishes [matrimonial wishes] about sir joshua and me? a man who has had two shakes of the palsy!' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] dr. patten in sept. (croker's _boswell_, p. ) informed johnson of wilson's intended dedication. johnson, in his reply, said:--'what will the world do but look on and laugh when one scholar dedicates to another?' [ ] on the same day he wrote to dr. taylor:-'this, my dear sir, is the last day of a very sickly and melancholy year. join your prayers with mine, that the next may be more happy to us both. i hope the happiness which i have not found in this world will by infinite mercy be granted in another.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] 'jan. , . dr. johnson came so very late that we had all given him up; he was very ill, and only from an extreme of kindness did he come at all. when i went up to him to tell how sorry i was to find him so unwell, "ah," he cried, taking my hand and kissing it, "who shall ail anything when cecilia is so near? yet you do not think how poorly i am." all dinner time he hardly opened his mouth but to repeat to me:--"ah! you little know how ill i am." he was excessively kind to me in spite of all his pain.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . _cecilia_ was the name of her second novel (_post_, may , ). on jan. he thus ended a letter to mr. nichols:--'now i will put you in a way of shewing me more kindness. i have been confined by ilness (sic) a long time, and sickness and solitude make tedious evenings. come sometimes and see, sir, 'your humble servant, 'sam. johnson.' _ms_. in the british museum. [ ] 'dr. johnson found here [at auchinleck] baxter's anacreon, which he told me he had long inquired for in vain, and began to suspect there was no such book.' boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . see _post_, under sept. , . [ ] 'the delight which men have in popularity, fame, honour, submission, and subjection of other men's minds, wills, or affections, although these things may be desired for other ends, seemeth to be a thing in itself, without contemplation of consequence, grateful and agreeable to the nature of man.' bacon's _nat. hist._ exper. no. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in a letter to dr. taylor on jan. of this year, he attacked the scheme of equal representation.' pitt, on may , , made his first reform motion. johnson thus ended his letter:--'if the scheme were more reasonable, this is not a time for innovation. i am afraid of a civil war. the business of every wise man seems to be now to keep his ground.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , _post_, , and boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] the year after this conversation the general election of was held, which followed on the overthrow of the coalition ministry and the formation of the pitt ministry in december, . the 'king's friends' were in a minority of one in the last great division in the old parliament; in the motion on the address in the new parliament they had a majority of . _parl. hist._ xxiv. , . miss burney, writing in nov. , when the king was mad, says that one of his physicians 'moved me even to tears by telling me that none of their own lives would be safe if the king did not recover, so prodigiously high ran the tide of affection and loyalty. all the physicians received threatening letters daily, to answer for the safety of their monarch with their lives! sir g. baker had already been stopped in his carriage by the mob, to give an account of the king; and when he said it was a bad one, they had furiously exclaimed, "the more shame for you."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, iv. . describing in a royal tour in the west of england, she writes of 'the crowds, the rejoicings, the hallooing and singing, and garlanding and decorating of all the inhabitants of this old city [exeter], and of all the country through which we passed.' _ib._ v. . [ ] miss palmer, sir joshua's niece, 'heard dr. johnson repeat these verses with the tears falling over his cheek.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] gibbon remarked that 'mr. fox was certainly very shy of saying anything in johnson's presence.' _ante_, iii. . see _post_, under june , , where johnson said 'fox is my friend.' [ ] mr. greville (_journal_, ed. , ii. ) records the following on the authority of lord holland:--'johnson liked fox because he defended his pension, and said it was only to blame in not being large enough. "fox," he said, is a liberal man; he would always be _aut caesar aut nullus_; whenever i have seen him he has been _nullus_. lord holland said fox made it a rule never to talk in johnson's presence, because he knew all his conversations were recorded for publication, and he did not choose to figure in them.' fox could not have known what was not the fact. when boswell was by, he had reason for his silence; but otherwise he might have spoken out. 'mr. fox,' writes mackintosh (_life_, i. ) 'united, in a most remarkable degree, the seemingly repugnant characters of the mildest of men and the most vehement of orators. in private life he was so averse from parade and dogmatism as to be somewhat inactive in conversation.' gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) tells how fox spent a day with him at lausanne:--'perhaps it never can happen again, that i should enjoy him as i did that day, alone from ten in the morning till ten at night. our conversation never flagged a moment.' 'in london mixed society,' said rogers (_table-talk_, p. ), 'fox conversed little; but at his own house in the country, with his intimate friends, he would talk on for ever, with all the openness and simplicity of a child.' [ ] sec _ante_, ii. . [ ] most likely 'old mr. sheridan.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] were i to insert all the stories which have been told of contests boldly maintained with him, imaginary victories obtained over him, of reducing him to silence, and of making him own that his antagonist had the better of him in argument, my volumes would swell to an immoderate size. one instance, i find, has circulated both in conversation and in print; that when he would not allow the scotch writers to have merit, the late dr. rose, of chiswick, asserted, that he could name one scotch writer, whom dr. johnson himself would allow to have written better than any man of the age; and upon johnson's asking who it was, answered, 'lord bute, when he signed the warrant for your pension.' upon which johnson, struck with the repartee, acknowledged that this _was_ true. when i mentioned it to johnson, 'sir, (said he,) if rose said this, i never heard it.' boswell. [ ] this reflection was very natural in a man of a good heart, who was not conscious of any ill-will to mankind, though the sharp sayings which were sometimes produced by his discrimination and vivacity, which he perhaps did not recollect, were, i am afraid, too often remembered with resentment. boswell. when, three months later on, he was struck with palsy, he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'i have in this still scene of life great comfort in reflecting that i have given very few reason to hate me. i hope scarcely any man has known me closely but for his benefit, or cursorily but to his innocent entertainment. tell me, you that know me best, whether this be true, that according to your answer i may continue my practice, or try to mend it.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, may , . passages such as the two following might have shewn him why he had enemies. 'for roughness, it is a needless cause of discontent; severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate.' bacon's _essays_, no. xi. ''tis possible that men may be as oppressive by their parts as their power.' _the government of the tongue_, sect. vii. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] 'a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people.' _ante_, i. . stockdale records (_memoirs_, ii. ) that he heard a scotch lady, after quoting this definition, say to johnson, 'i can assure you that in scotland we give oats to our horses as well as you do to yours in england.' he replied:--'i am very glad, madam, to find that you treat your horses as well as you treat yourselves.' [ ] sir joshua reynolds wrote:--'the prejudices he had to countries did not extend to individuals. the chief prejudice in which he indulged himself was against scotland, though he had the most cordial friendship with individuals. this he used to vindicate as a duty. ... against the irish he entertained no prejudice; he thought they united themselves very well with us; but the scotch, when in england, united and made a party by employing only scotch servants and scotch tradesmen. he held it right for englishmen to oppose a party against them.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. , , and boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . [ ] _ante_, ii. . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that 'dr. johnson, commonly spending the middle of the week at our house, kept his numerous family in fleet-street upon a settled allowance; but returned to them every saturday to give them three good dinners and his company, before he came back to us on the monday night.' [ ] lord north's ministry lasted from , to march, . it was followed by the rockingham ministry, and the shelburne ministry, which in its turn was at this very time giving way to the coalition ministry, to be followed very soon by the pitt ministry. [ ] i have, in my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ [p. , sept. ], fully expressed my sentiments upon this subject. the revolution was _necessary_, but not a subject for _glory_; because it for a long time blasted the generous feelings of _loyalty_. and now, when by the benignant effect of time the present royal family are established in our _affections_, how unwise it is to revive by celebrations the memory of a shock, which it would surely have been better that our constitution had not required. boswell. see _ante_, iii. , and iv. , note . [ ] johnson reviewed this book in . _ante_, i. . [ ] johnson, four months later, wrote to one of mrs. thrale's daughters:--'never think, my sweet, that you have arithmetick enough; when you have exhausted your master, buy books. ... a thousand stories which the ignorant tell and believe die away at once when the computist takes them in his gripe.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _post_, april , . [ ] see _ante_, p. ; also iii. , where he bore the same topic impatiently when with dr. scott. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'see nations, slowly wise and meanly just, to buried merit raise the tardy bust.' johnson's _vanity of human wishes_. [ ] he was perhaps, thinking of markland. _ante_, p. , note . [ ] 'dr. johnson,' writes mrs. piozzi, 'was no complainer of ill-usage. i never heard him even lament the disregard shown to _irene_.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . see _ante_, i. . [ ] letter to the people of scotland against the attempt to diminish the number of the lords of session, . boswell. 'by mr. burke's removal from office the king's administration was deprived of the assistance of that affluent mind, which is so universally rich that, as long as british literature and british politicks shall endure, it will be said of edmund burke, _regum equabat [sic] opes animis.'_ p. . [ ] _georgics_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] very likely boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] johnson had said:--'lord chesterfield is the proudest man this day existing.' _ante_, i. . [ ] lord shelburne. at this time he was merely holding office till a new ministry was formed. on april he was succeeded by the duke of portland. his 'coarse manners' were due to a neglected childhood. in the fragment of his _autobiography_ he describes 'the domestic brutality and ill-usage he experienced at home,' in the south of ireland. 'it cost me,' he continues, 'more to unlearn the habits, manners, and principles which i then imbibed, than would have served to qualify me for any _rôle_ whatever through life.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, i. , . [ ] bentham, it is reported, said of of him that 'alone of his own time, he was a "minister who did not fear the people."' _ib._ iii. . [ ] malagrida, a jesuit, was put to death at lisbon in , nominally on a charge of heresy, but in reality on a suspicion of his having sanctioned, as confessor to one of the conspirators, an attempt to assassinate king joseph of portugal. voltaire, _siècle de louis xv_, ch. xxxviii. 'his name,' writes wraxall (_memoirs_, ed. , i. ), 'is become proverbial among us to express duplicity.' it was first applied to lord shelburne in a squib attributed to wilkes, which contained a vision of a masquerade. the writer, after describing him as masquerading as 'the heir apparent of loyola and all the college,' continues:--'a little more of the devil, my lord, if you please, about the eyebrows; that's enough, a perfect malagrida, i protest.' fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, ii. . 'george iii. habitually spoke of shelburne as "malagrida," and the "jesuit of berkeley square."' _ib._ iii. . the charge of duplicity was first made against shelburne on the retirement of fox (the first lord holland) in . 'it was the tradition of holland house that bute justified the conduct of shelburne, by telling fox that it was "a pious fraud." "i can see the fraud plainly enough," is said to have been fox's retort, "but where is the piety?"' _ib_. i. . any one who has examined reynolds's picture of shelburne, especially 'about the eyebrows,' at once sees how the name of jesuit was given. [ ] beauclerk wrote to lord charlemont on nov. , :-'goldsmith the other day put a paragraph into the newspapers in praise of lord mayor townshend. [shelburne supported townshend in opposition to wilkes in the election of the lord mayor. fitzmaurice's _shelburne_, ii. .] the same night we happened to sit next to lord shelburne at drury lane. i mentioned the circumstance of the paragraph to him; he said to goldsmith that he hoped that he had mentioned nothing about malagrida in it. "do you know," answered goldsmith, "that i never could conceive the reason why they call you malagrida, _for_ malagrida was a very good sort of man." you see plainly what he meant to say, but that happy turn of expression is peculiar to himself. mr. walpole says that this story is a picture of goldsmith's whole life.' _life of charlemont_, i. . [ ] most likely reynolds, who introduced crabbe to johnson. crabbe's _works_, ed. , ii. . [ ] 'i paint the cot, as truth will paint it, and as bards will not. nor you, ye poor, of lettered scorn complain, to you the smoothest song is smooth in vain; o'ercome by labour, and bowed down by time, feel you the barren flattery of a rhyme? can poets soothe you, when you pine for bread, by winding myrtles round your ruined shed? can their light tales your weighty griefs o'erpower, or glad with airy mirth the toilsome hour?' _the village_, book i. see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] i shall give an instance, marking the original by roman, and johnson's substitution in italick characters:-- 'in fairer scenes, where peaceful pleasures spring, tityrus, the pride of mantuan swains, might sing: but charmed by him, or smitten with his views, shall modern poets court the mantuan muse? from truth and nature shall we widely stray, where fancy leads, or virgil led the way?' '_on mincio's banks, in caesar's bounteous reign, if tityrus found the golden age again, must sleepy bards the flattering dream prolong, mechanick echoes of the mantuan song?_ from truth and nature shall we widely stray, _where virgil, not where fancy, leads the way?._ here we find johnson's poetical and critical powers undiminished. i must, however, observe, that the aids he gave to this poem, as to _the traveller_ and _deserted village_ of goldsmith, were so small as by no means to impair the distinguished merit of the authour. boswell. [ ] in the _gent. mag._ , pp. , , is a review of his _observations on diseases of the army_. he says that the register of deaths of military men proves that more than eight times as many men fall by what was called the gaol fever as by battle. his suggestions are eminently wise. lord seaford, in , told leslie 'that he remembered dining in company with dr. johnson at dr. brocklesby's, when he was a boy of twelve or thirteen. he was impressed with the superiority of johnson, and his knocking everybody down in argument.' c.r. leslie's _recollections_, i. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. , . [ ] "in his _life of swift_ (_works_, viii. ) he thus speaks of this _journal_:-'in the midst of his power and his politicks, he kept a journal of his visits, his walks, his interviews with ministers, and quarrels with his servant, and transmitted it to mrs. johnson and mrs. dingley, to whom he knew that whatever befell him was interesting, and no accounts could be too minute. whether these diurnal trifles were properly exposed to eyes which had never received any pleasure from the presence of the dean, may be reasonably doubted: they have, however, some odd attraction: the reader, finding frequent mention of names which he has been used to consider as important, goes on in hope of information; and, as there is nothing to fatigue attention, if he is disappointed, he can hardly complain.'" [ ] on his fifty-fifth birthday he recorded:--'i resolve to keep a journal both of employment and of expenses. to keep accounts.' _pr. and med_. . see _post_, aug. , , where he writes to langton:--'i am a little angry at you for not keeping minutes of your own _acceptum et expensum_, and think a little time might be spared from aristophanes for the _res familiares_.' [ ] this mr. chalmers thought was george steevens. croker. d'israeli (_curiosities of literature_, ed. , vi. ) describes steevens as guilty of 'an unparalleled series of arch deception and malicious ingenuity.' he gives curious instances of his literary impostures. see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, may , . [ ] if this be lord mansfield, boswell must use _late_ in the sense of _in retirement_; for mansfield was living when the _life of johnson_ was published. he retired in . johnson in , said that he had never been in his company (_ante_, ii. ). the fact that mansfield is mentioned in the previous paragraph adds to the probability that he is meant. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in scotland, johnson spoke of mansfield's 'splendid talents.' boswell's _hebrides_, under nov. . [ ] 'i am not only witty in myself, but the cause that wit is in other men.' _ henry iv_, act i. sc. . [ ] knowing as well as i do what precision and elegance of oratory his lordship can display, i cannot but suspect that his unfavourable appearance in a social circle, which drew such animadversions upon him, must be owing to a cold affectation of consequence, from being reserved and stiff. if it be so, and he might be an agreeable man if he would, we cannot be sorry that he misses his aim. boswell. wedderburne, afterwards lord loughborough, is mentioned (_ante_, ii. ), and again in murphy's _life of johnson_, p. , as being in company with johnson and foote. boswell also has before (_ante_, i. ) praised the elegance of his oratory. henry mackenzie (_life of john home_, i. ) says that wedderburne belonged to a club at the british coffee-house, of which garrick, smollett, and dr. douglas were members. [ ] boswell informed the people of scotland in the letter that he addressed to them in (p. ), that 'now that dr. johnson is gone to a better world, he (boswell) bowed the intellectual knee to _lord thurlow_.' see _post_, june , . [ ] boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] 'charged with light summer-rings his fingers sweat, unable to support a gem of weight.' dryden. juvenal, _satires_, i. . [ ] he had published a series of seventy _essays_ under the title of _the hypochondriack_ in the _london magazine_ from to . [ ] juvenal, _satires_, x. . the common reading, however, is 'nullum numen _habes_,' &c. mrs. piozzi (_anec._ p. ) records this saying, but with a variation. '"for," says mr. johnson, "though i do not quite agree with the proverb, that _nullum numen adest si sit prudentia_, yet we may very well say, that _nullum numen adest, ni sit prudentia."' [ ] it has since appeared. boswell. [ ] miss burney mentions meeting dr. harington at bath in . 'it is his son,' she writes, 'who published those very curious remains of his ancestor [sir john harington] under the title _nugae antiquae_ which my father and all of us were formerly so fond of.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'for though they are but trifles, thou some value didst to them allow.' martin's _catullus_, p. . [ ] --underneath this rude, uncouth disguise, a genius of extensive knowledge lies.' francis. horace, _satires_, i. . . [ ] he would not have been a troublesome patient anywhere, for, according to mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ),'he required less attendance, sick or well, than ever i saw any human creature.' [ ] 'that natural jealousy which makes every man unwilling to allow much excellence in another, always produces a disposition to believe that the mind grows old with the body; and that he whom we are now forced to confess superiour is hastening daily to a level with ourselves.' johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] with the following elucidation of the saying-_quos deus_ (it should rather be-_quem jupiter) vult perdere, prius dementat_-mr. boswell was furnished by mr. pitts:--'perhaps no scrap of latin whatever has been more quoted than this. it occasionally falls even from those who are scrupulous even to pedantry in their latinity, and will not admit a word into their compositions, which has not the sanction of the first age. the word _demento_ is of no authority, either as a verb active or neuter.--after a long search for the purpose of deciding a bet, some gentlemen of cambridge found it among the fragments of euripides, in what edition i do not recollect, where it is given as a translation of a greek iambick: [greek: ou theos thelei apolesoi' apophreuai.] 'the above scrap was found in the hand-writing of a suicide of fashion, sir d. o., some years ago, lying on the table of the room where he had destroyed himself. the suicide was a man of classical acquirements: he left no other paper behind him.' another of these proverbial sayings, _incidit in scyllam, cupiens vitare charybdim,_ i, in a note on a passage in _the merchant of venice_ [act iii. sc. ], traced to its source. it occurs (with a slight variation) in the _alexandreis_ of philip gualtier (a poet of the thirteenth century), which was printed at lyons in . darius is the person addressed:-- --quò tendis inertem, rex periture, fugam? nescis, heu! perdite, nescis quern fugias: hostes incurris dum fugis hostem; _incidis in scyllam, cupiens vitare charybdim._ a line not less frequently quoted was suggested for enquiry in a note on _the rape of lucrece:-- solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris--_: but the author of this verse has not, i believe, been discovered. malone. the 'greek lambick' in the above note is not greek. to a learned friend i owe the following note. 'the _quem jupiter vult perdere_, &c., is said to be a translation of a fragment of _euripides_ by joshua barnes. there is, i believe, no such fragment at all. in barnes's _euripides_, cantab. , fol. p. , is a fragment of euripides with a note which may explain the muddle of boswell's correspondent:-- "[greek: otau de daimonn handri porsunae kaka ton noun heblapse proton,]" on which barnes writes:--"tale quid in franciados nostrae [probably his uncompleted poem on edward iii.] l. . _certe ille deorum arbiter ultricem cum vult extendere dextram dementat prius._"' see _ante_, ii. , note . sir d. o. is, perhaps, sir d'anvers osborne, whose death is recorded in the _gent. mag._ , p. . 'sir d'anvers osborne, bart., governor of new york, soon after his arrival there; _in his garden.' solamen miseris, &c._, is imitated by swift in his _verses on stella's birthday_, - :-- 'the only comfort they propose, to have companions in their woes.' swift's _works_, ed. , xi. . the note on _lucrece_ was, i conjecture, on line :-- 'grief best is pleased with grief's society.' [ ] 'faustus-- "tu quoque, ut hîc video, non es ignarus amorum." 'fortunatus-- "id commune malum; semel insanivimus omnes."' baptistae mantuani carmelitae _adolescentia, seu bucolica_. ecloga i, published in . 'scaliger,' says johnson (_works_, viii. ), 'complained that mantuan's bucolicks were received into schools, and taught as classical. ... he was read, at least in some of the inferiour schools of this kingdom, to the beginning of the present [eighteenth] century.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] i am happy, however, to mention a pleasing instance of his enduring with great gentleness to hear one of his most striking particularities pointed out:--miss hunter, a niece of his friend christopher smart, when a very young girl, struck by his extraordinary motions, said to him, 'pray, dr. johnson, why do you make such strange gestures?' 'from bad habit,' he replied. 'do you, my dear, take care to guard against bad habits.' this i was told by the young lady's brother at margate. boswell. boswell had himself told johnson of some of them, at least in writing. johnson read in manuscript his _journal of a tour to the hebrides_. boswell says in a note on oct. :--'it is remarkable that dr. johnson should have read this account of some of his own peculiar habits, without saying anything on the subject, which i hoped he would have done.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note , and iii. . [ ] johnson, after stating that some of milton's manuscripts prove that 'in the early part of his life he wrote with much care,' continues:--'such reliques show how excellence is acquired; what we hope ever to do with ease, we must learn first to do with diligence.' _works_, vii. . lord chesterfield (_letters_, iii. ) had made the same rule as johnson:--'i was,' he writes, 'early convinced of the importance and powers of eloquence; and from that moment i applied myself to it. i resolved not to utter one word even in common conversation that should not be the most expressive and the most elegant that the language could supply me with for that purpose; by which means i have acquired such a certain degree of habitual eloquence, that i must now really take some pains if i would express myself very inelegantly.' [ ] 'dr. johnson,' wrote malone in , 'is as correct and elegant in his common conversation as in his writings. he never seems to study either for thoughts or words. when first introduced i was very young; yet he was as accurate in his conversation as if he had been talking to the first scholar in england.' prior's _malone_, p. . see _post_, under aug. , . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] the justness of this remark is confirmed by the following story, for which i am indebted to lord eliot:--a country parson, who was remarkable for quoting scraps of latin in his sermons, having died, one of his parishioners was asked how he liked his successor. 'he is a very good preacher,' was his answer, 'but no _latiner_.' boswell. for the original of lord eliot's story see twells's _life of dr. e. pocock_, ed. , p. . reynolds said that 'johnson always practised on every occasion the rule of speaking his best, whether the person to whom he addressed himself was or was not capable of comprehending him. "if," says he, "i am understood, my labour is not lost. if it is above their comprehension, there is some gratification, though it is the admiration of ignorance;" and he said those were the most sincere admirers; and quoted baxter, who made a rule never to preach a sermon without saying something which he knew was beyond the comprehension of his audience, in order to inspire their admiration.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . addison, in _the spectator_, no. , tells of a preacher in a country town who outshone a more ignorant rival, by quoting every now and then a latin sentence from one of the fathers. 'the other finding his congregation mouldering every sunday, and hearing at length what was the occasion of it, resolved to give his parish a little latin in his turn; but being unacquainted with any of the fathers, he digested into his sermons the whole book of _quae genus_, adding, however, such explications to it as he thought might be for the benefit of his people. he afterwards entered upon _as in praesenti_, which he converted in the same manner to the use of his parishioners. this in a very little time thickened his audience, filled his church, and routed his antagonist.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. [ ] '"well," said he, "we had good talk." boswell. "yes, sir; you tossed and gored several persons."' _ante,_ ii. . [ ] dr. j. h. burton says of hume (_life, ii. _):--'no scotsman could write a book of respectable talent without calling forth his loud and warm eulogiums. wilkie was to be the homer, blacklock the pindar, and home the shakespeare or something still greater of his country.' see _ante_, ii. , , . [ ] _the present state of music in france and italy,_ i vol. , and _the present state of music in germany, &c.,_ vols. . johnson must have skipped widely in reading these volumes, for though dr. burney describes his travels, yet he writes chiefly of music. [ ] boswell's son james says that he heard from his father, that the passage which excited this strong emotion was the following:-- 'tis night, and the landscape is lovely no more: i mourn, but, ye woodlands, i mourn not for you; for morn is approaching, your charms to restore, perfumed with fresh fragrance, and glittering with dew; nor yet for the ravage of winter i mourn; kind nature the embryo blossom will save: but when shall spring visit the mouldering urn? o when shall it dawn on the night of the grave?' [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) mentions this book at some length. on march , , he wrote:--'yesterday was published an octavo, pretending to contain the correspondence of hackman and miss ray that he murdered.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ), recording how johnson used to meet psalmanazar at an ale-house, says that johnson one day 'remarked on the human mind, that it had a necessary tendency to improvement, and that it would frequently anticipate instruction. "sir," said a stranger that overheard him, "that i deny; i am a tailor, and have had many apprentices, but never one that could make a coat till i had taken great pains in teaching him."' see _ante_, iii. . robert hall was influenced in his studies by 'his intimate association in mere childhood with a tailor, one of his father's congregation, who was an acute metaphysician.' hall's _works_, vi. . [ ] johnson had never been in grub-street. _ante_, i. , note . [ ] the honourable horace walpole, late earl of orford, thus bears testimony to this gentleman's merit as a writer:--'mr. chambers's _treatise on civil architecture_ is the most sensible book, and the most exempt from prejudices, that ever was written on that science.'--preface to _anecdotes of painting in england_. boswell. chambers was the architect of somerset house. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] the introductory lines are these:--'it is difficult to avoid praising too little or too much. the boundless panegyricks which have been lavished upon the chinese learning, policy, and arts, shew with what power novelty attracts regard, and how naturally esteem swells into admiration. i am far from desiring to be numbered among the exaggerators of chinese excellence. i consider them as great, or wise, only in comparison with the nations that surround them; and have no intention to place them in competition either with the antients or with the moderns of this part of the world; yet they must be allowed to claim our notice as a distinct and very singular race of men: as the inhabitants of a region divided by its situation from all civilized countries, who have formed their own manners, and invented their own arts, without the assistance of example.' boswell. [ ] the last execution at tyburn was on nov. , , when one man was hanged. the first at newgate was on the following dec. , when ten were hanged. _gent. mag._ , pp. , . [ ] we may compare with this 'loose talk' johnson's real opinion, as set forth in _the rambler_, no. , entitled:--_the necessity of proportioning punishments to crimes_. he writes:--'the learned, the judicious, the pious boerhaave relates that he never saw a criminal dragged to execution without asking himself, "who knows whether this man is not less culpable than me?" on the days when the prisons of this city are emptied into the grave, let every spectator of this dreadful procession put the same question to his own heart. few among those that crowd in thousands to the legal massacre, and look with carelessness, perhaps with triumph, on the utmost exacerbations of human misery, would then be able to return without horror and dejection.' he continues:--'it may be observed that all but murderers have, at their last hour, the common sensations of mankind pleading in their favour.... they who would rejoice at the correction of a thief, are yet shocked at the thought of destroying him. his crime shrinks to nothing compared with his misery, and severity defeats itself by exciting pity.' [ ] richardson, in his _familiar letters_, no. , makes a country gentleman in town describe the procession of five criminals to tyburn, and their execution. he should have heard, he said, 'the exhortation spoken by the bell-man from the wall of st. sepulchre's church-yard; but the noise of the officers and the mob was so great, and the silly curiosity of people climbing into the cart to take leave of the criminals made such a confused noise that i could not hear them. they are as follow: "all good people pray heartily to god for these poor sinners, who now are going to their deaths; for whom this great bell doth toll. you that are condemned to die, repent with lamentable tears.... lord have mercy upon you! christ have mercy upon you!" which last words the bell-man repeats three times. all the way up holborn the crowd was so great, as at every twenty or thirty yards to obstruct the passage; and wine, notwithstanding a late good order against that practice, was brought the malefactors, who drank greedily of it. after this the three thoughtless young men, who at first seemed not enough concerned, grew most shamefully daring and wanton. they swore, laughed, and talked obscenely. at the place of execution the scene grew still more shocking; and the clergyman who attended was more the subject of ridicule than of their serious attention. the psalm was sung amidst the curses and quarrelling of hundreds of the most abandoned and profligate of mankind. as soon as the poor creatures were half-dead, i was much surprised to see the populace fall to haling and pulling the carcases with so much earnestness as to occasion several warm rencounters and broken heads. these, i was told, were the friends of the persons executed, or such as for the sake of tumult chose to appear so; and some persons sent by private surgeons to obtain bodies for dissection.' the psalm is mentioned in a note on the line in _the dunciad_, i. l, 'hence hymning tyburn's elegiac lines:'--'it is an ancient english custom,' says pope, 'for the malefactors to sing a psalm at their execution at tyburn.' [ ] the rest of these miscellaneous sayings were first given in the _additions to dr. johnson's life_ at the beginning of vol. i of the second edition. [ ] hume (_auto_. p. ) speaks of hurd as attacking him 'with all the illiberal petulance, arrogance, and scurrility which distinguish the warburtonian school.' 'hurd,' writes walpole, 'had acquired a great name by several works of slender merit, was a gentle, plausible man, affecting a singular decorum that endeared him highly to devout old ladies.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . he is best known to the present generation by his impertinent notes on addison's _works_. by reprinting them, mr. bohn did much to spoil what was otherwise an excellent edition of that author. see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] the rev. t. twining, one of dr. burney's friends, wrote in :--'you use a form of reference that i abominate, i.e. the latter, the former. "as long as you have the use of your tongue and your pen," said dr. johnson to dr. burney, "never, sir, be reduced to that shift."' _recreations and studies of a country clergyman of the xviiith century_, p. . [ ] 'a shilling was now wanted for some purpose or other, and none of them happened to have one; i begged that i might lend one. "ay, do," said the doctor, "i will borrow of you; authors are like privateers, always fair game for one another."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see _post_, june , , where he uses almost the same words. [ ] what this period was boswell seems to leave intentionally vague. johnson knew lord shelburne at least as early as (_ante_, iii. ). he wrote to dr. taylor on july , :--'shelburne speaks of burke in private with great malignity.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . the company commonly gathered at his house would have been displeasing to johnson. priestley, who lived with shelburne seven years, says (_auto_. p. ) that a great part of the company he saw there was like the french philosophers, unbelievers in christianity, and even professed atheists: men 'who had given no proper attention to christianity, and did not really know what it was.' johnson was intimate with lord shelburne's brother. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] johnson being asked his opinion of this essay, answered, 'why, sir, we shall have the man come forth again; and as he has proved falstaff to be no coward, he may prove iago to be a very good character.' boswell. [ ] a writer in the _european magazine_, xxx. , says that johnson visited lord shelburne at bowood. at dinner he repeated part of his letter to lord chesterfield (_ante_, i. ). a gentleman arrived late. shelburne, telling him what he had missed, went on:-'i dare say the doctor will be kind enough to give it to us again.' 'indeed, my lord, i will not. i told the circumstance first for my own amusement, but i will not be dragged in as story-teller to a company.' in an argument he used some strong expressions, of which his opponent took no notice, next morning 'he went up to the gentleman with great good-nature, and said, "sir, i have found out upon reflection that i was both warm and wrong in my argument with you last night; for the first of which i beg your pardon, and for the second, i thank you for setting me right."' it is clear that the second of these anecdotes is the same as that told by mr. morgann of johnson and himself, and that the scene has been wrongly transferred from wickham to bowood. the same writer says that it was between derrick and boyce--not derrick and smart--that johnson, in the story that follows, could not settle the precedency. [ ] see ante, i. , . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] what the great twalmley was so proud of having invented, was neither more nor less than a kind of box-iron for smoothing linen. boswell. [ ] 'hic manus ob patriam pugnando vulnera passi, quique sacerdotes casti, dum vita manebat, quique pii vates et phoebo digna locuti, inventas aut qui vitam excoluere per artes.' _aeneid_, vi. . 'lo, they who in their country's fight sword-wounded bodies bore; lo, priests of holy life and chaste, while they in life had part; lo, god-loved poets, men who spake things worthy phoebus' heart, and they who bettered life on earth by new-found mastery.' morris. virgil, _aeneids_, vi. . the great twalmley might have justified himself by _the rambler_, no. :--'every man, from the highest to the lowest station, ought to warm his heart and animate his endeavours with the hopes of being useful to the world, by advancing the art which it is his lot to exercise; and for that end he must necessarily consider the whole extent of its application, and the whole weight of its importance.... every man ought to endeavour at eminence, not by pulling others down, but by raising himself, and enjoy the pleasure of his own superiority, whether imaginary or real, without interrupting others in the same felicity.' all this is what twalmley did. he adorned an art, he endeavoured at eminence, and he inoffensively enjoyed the pleasure of his own superiority. he could also have defended himself by the example of aeneas, who, introducing himself, said:-- 'sum pius aeneas ..... ... fama super aethera notus.' _aeneid_, i. . i fear that twalmley met with the neglect that so commonly befalls inventors. in the _gent. mag_. , p. , i find in the list of 'b-nk-ts,' josiah twamley, the elder, of warwick, ironmonger. [ ] 'sir, hume is a tory by chance, as being a scotchman; but not upon a principle of duty, for he has no principle. if he is anything, he is a hobbist.' boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . horace walpole's opinion was very different. 'are not atheism and bigotry first cousins? was not charles ii. an atheist and a bigot? and does mr. hume pluck a stone from a church but to raise an altar to tyranny?' _letters_, v. . hume wrote in :--'my views of _things_ are more conformable to whig principles; my representations of _persons_ to tory prejudices.' j.h. burton's _hume_, ii. . hume's toryism increased with years. he says in his _autobiography/_ (p. xi.) that all the alterations which he made in the later editions of his _history of the stuarts_, 'he made invariably to the tory side.' dr. burton gives instances of these; _life of hume_, ii. . hume wrote in that he was 'too much infected with the plaguy prejudices of whiggism when he began the work.' _ib_. p. . in he wrote:--'i either soften or expunge many villainous, seditious whig strokes which had crept into it.' _ib_. p. . this growing hatred of whiggism was, perhaps, due to pique. john home, in his notes of hume's talk in the last weeks of his life, says: 'he recurred to a subject not unfrequent with him--that is, the design to ruin him as an author, by the people that were ministers at the first publication of his _history_, and called themselves whigs.' _ib_. p. . as regards america, hume was with the whigs, as johnson had perhaps learnt from their common friend, mr. strahan. 'he was,' says dr. burton, 'far more tolerant of the sway of individuals over numbers, which he looked upon as the means of preserving order and civilization, than of the predominance of one territory over another, which he looked upon as subjugation.' _ib_. p. . quite at the beginning of the struggle he foretold that the americans would not be subdued, unless they broke in pieces among themselves. _ib_. p. . he was not frightened by the prospect of the loss of our supremacy. he wrote to adam smith:--'my notion is that the matter is not so important as is commonly imagined. our navigation and general commerce may suffer more than our manufactures.' _ib_. p. . johnson's charge against hume that he had no principle, is, no doubt, a gross one; yet hume's advice to a sceptical young clergyman, who had good hope of preferment, that he should therefore continue in orders, was unprincipled enough. 'it is,' he wrote, 'putting too great a respect on the vulgar and on their superstitions to pique one's self on sincerity with regard to them. did ever one make it a point of honour to speak truth to children or madmen? if the thing were worthy being treated gravely, i should tell him that the pythian oracle, with the approbation of xenophon, advised every one to worship the gods--[greek: nomo poleos]. i wish it were still in my power to be a hypocrite in this particular. the common duties of society usually require it; and the ecclesiastical profession only adds a little more to an innocent dissimulation, or rather simulation, without which it is impossible to pass through the world.' _ib/_. p. . [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ) says that johnson told her that in writing the story of gelaleddin, the poor scholar (_idler_, no. ), who thought to fight his way to fame by his learning and wit, 'he had his own outset into life in his eye.' gelaleddin describes how 'he was sometimes admitted to the tables of the viziers, where he exerted his wit and diffused his knowledge; but he observed that where, by endeavour or accident he had remarkably excelled, he was seldom invited a second time.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] see ante, p. . [ ] bar. boswell. [ ] nard. boswell. [ ] barnard. boswell. [ ] it was reviewed in the _gent. mag_. , p. , where it is said to have been written by don gabriel, third son of the king of spain. [ ] though 'you was' is very common in the authors of the last century when one person was addressed, i doubt greatly whether johnson ever so expressed himself. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] horace walpole (_letters_ v. ) says, 'boswell, like cambridge, has a rage of knowing anybody that ever was talked of.' miss burney records 'an old trick of mr. cambridge to his son george, when listening to a dull story, in saying to the relator "tell the rest of that to george."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] virgil, _eclogues_, i. . [ ] 'mr. johnson,' writes mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), 'was exceedingly disposed to the general indulgence of children, and was even scrupulously and ceremoniously attentive not to offend them. he had strongly persuaded himself of the difficulty people always find to erase early impressions either of kindness or resentment.' [ ] _ante_, ii. , iv. ; also _post_, may , . [ ] johnson, on may , , wrote of the exhibition dinner:--'the apartments were truly very noble. the pictures, for the sake of a sky-light, are at the top of the house; there we dined, and i sat over against the archbishop of york. see how i live when i am not under petticoat government.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . it was archbishop markham whom he met; he is mentioned by boswell in his _hebrides, post_, v. . in spite of the 'elaboration of homage' johnson could judge freely of an archbishop. he described the archbishop of tuam as 'a man coarse of voice and inelegant of language.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] by lord perceval, afterwards earl of egmont. he carried, writes horace walpole (_letters_, ii. ), 'the westminster election at the end of my father's ministry, which he amply described in the history of his own family, a genealogical work called the _history of the house of yvery_, a work which cost him three thousand pounds; and which was so ridiculous, that he has since tried to suppress all the copies. it concluded with the description of the westminster election, in these or some such words:--"and here let us leave this young nobleman struggling for the dying liberties of his country."' [ ] five days earlier johnson made the following entry in his diary:--' , april . i took leave of mrs. thrale. i was much moved. i had some expostulations with her. she said that she was likewise affected. i commended the thrales with great good-will to god; may my petitions have been heard.' hawkins's _life_, p. . this was not 'a formal taking of leave,' as hawkins says. she was going to bath (mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. ). on may-day he wrote to her on the death of one of her little girls:--'i loved her, for she was thrale's and yours, and, by her dear father's appointment, in some sort mine: i love you all, and therefore cannot without regret see the phalanx broken, and reflect that you and my other dear girls are deprived of one that was born your friend. to such friends every one that has them has recourse at last, when it is discovered and discovered it seldom fails to be, that the fortuitous friendships of inclination or vanity are at the mercy of a thousand accidents.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . he was sadly thinking how her friendship for him was rapidly passing away. [ ] johnson modestly ended his account of the tour by saying:--'i cannot but be conscious that my thoughts on national manners are the thoughts of one who has seen but little.' _works_, ix. . see boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] see _ib_. oct. . [ ] she says that he was 'the genuine author of the first volume. an ingenious physician,' she continues, 'with the assistance of several others, continued the work until the eighth volume.' mrs. manley's _history of her own life and times_, p. --a gross, worthless book. swift satirised her in _corinna, a ballad_. swift's _works_ ( ), x. . [ ] the real authour was i. p. marana, a genoese, who died at paris in . john dunton in his _life_ says, that mr. _william bradshaw_ received from dr. midgeley forty shillings a sheet for writing part of the _turkish spy_; but i do not find that he any where mentions _sault_ as engaged in that work. malone. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , iii. , and iv. . [ ] this was in june, , and i find in mr. windham's private diary (which it seems this conversation induced him to keep) the following memoranda of dr. johnson's advice: 'i have no great timidity in my own disposition, and am no encourager of it in others. never be afraid to think yourself fit for any thing for which your friends think you fit. _you will become an able negotiator--a very pretty rascal_. no one in ireland wears even the mask of incorruption; no one professes to do for sixpence what he can get a shilling for doing. set sail, and see where the winds and the waves will carry you. every day will improve another. _dies diem docet_, by observing at night where you failed in the day, and by resolving to fail so no more.' croker. the whigs thought he made 'a very pretty rascal' in a very different way. on his opposition to whitbread's bill for establishing parochial schools, romilly wrote (_life_, ii. l ), 'that a man so enlightened as windham should take the same side (which he has done most earnestly) would excite great astonishment, if one did not recollect his eager opposition a few months ago to the abolition of the slave trade.' he was also 'most strenuous in opposition' to romilly's bill for repealing the act which made it a capital offence to steal to the amount of forty shillings in a dwelling-house, _ib_. p. . [ ] we accordingly carried our scheme into execution, in october, ; but whether from that uniformity which has in modern times, in a great degree, spread through every part of the metropolis, or from our want of sufficient exertion, we were disappointed. boswell. [ ] piozzi's _anecdotes_, p. . see _post_, under june , . [ ] northcote (_life of reynolds_, ii. - ) says that the picture, which was execrable beyond belief, was exhibited in an empty room. lowe, in (not in as northcote says), gained the gold medal of the academy for the best historical picture. (_gent. mag_. , p. .) northcote says that the award was not a fair one. he adds that lowe, being sent to rome by the patronage of the academy, was dissatisfied with the sum allowed him. 'when sir joshua said that he knew from experience that it was sufficient, lowe pertly answered "that it was possible for a man to live on guts and garbage."' he died at an obscure lodging in westminster, in . there is, wrote miss burney, 'a certain poor wretch of a villainous painter, one mr. lowe, whom dr. johnson recommends to all the people he thinks can afford to sit for their picture. among these he applied to mr. crutchley [one of mr. thrale's executors]. "but now," said mr. crutchley to me, "i have not a notion of sitting for my picture--for who wants it? i may as well give the man the money without; but no, they all said that would not do so well, and dr. johnson asked me to give _him_ my picture." "and i assure you, sir," says he, "i shall put it in very good company, for i have portraits of some very respectable people in my dining-room." after all i could say i was obliged to go to the painter's. and i found him in such a condition! a room all dirt and filth, brats squalling and wrangling... "oh!" says i, "mr. lowe, i beg your pardon for running away, but i have just recollected another engagement; so i poked three guineas in his hand, and told him i would come again another time, and then ran out of the house with all my might."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . a correspondent of the _examiner_ writing on may , , said that he had met one of lowe's daughters, 'who recollected,' she told him, 'when a child, sitting on dr. johnson's knee and his making her repeat the lord's prayer.' she was johnson's god-daughter. by a committee consisting of milman, thackeray, dickens, carlyle and others, an annuity fund for her and her sister was raised. lord palmerston gave a large subscription. [ ] see _post_, may , . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, _post_, v. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] quoted by boswell, _ante_, iii. . [ ] it is suggested to me by an anonymous annotator on my work, that the reason why dr. johnson collected the peels of squeezed oranges may be found in the th [ th] letter in mrs. piozzi's _collection_, where it appears that he recommended 'dried orange-peel, finely powdered,' as a medicine. boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] there are two mistakes in this calculation, both perhaps due to boswell. _eighty-four_ should be _eighty-eight_, and square-yards should be _yards square_. 'if a wall cost £ a mile, £ would build yards of wall, which would form a square of yards, and enclose an area of square yards; and £ would build yards of wall, which would form a square of yards, and inclose an area of square yards. the cost of the wall in the latter case, as compared with the space inclosed, would therefore be reduced to one half.' _notes and queries_, st s. x. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] 'davies observes, in his account of ireland, that no irishman had ever planted an orchard.' johnson's _works_, ix. . 'at fochabars [in the highlands] there is an orchard, which in scotland i had never seen before.' _ib._ p. . [ ] miss burney this year mentions meeting 'mr. walker, the lecturer. though modest in science, he is vulgar in conversation.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . johnson quotes him, _works_, viii. . [ ] 'old mr. sheridan' was twelve years younger than johnson. for his oratory, see _ante_, i. , and _post_, april and may , . [ ] see _ante_, i. , when johnson said of sheridan:--'his voice when strained is unpleasing, and when low is not always heard.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'a more magnificent funeral was never seen in london,' wrote murphy (_life of garrick_, p. ). horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ), wrote on the day of the funeral:--'i do think the pomp of garrick's funeral perfectly ridiculous. it is confounding the immense space between pleasing talents and national services.' he added, 'at lord chatham's interment there were not half the noble coaches that attended garrick's.' _ib_. p. . in his _journal of the reign of george iii_ (ii. ), he says:--'the court was delighted to see a more noble and splendid appearance at the interment of a comedian than had waited on the remains of the great earl of chatham.' bishop horne (_essays and thoughts_, p. ) has some lines on 'this grand parade of woe,' which begin:-- 'through weeping london's crowded streets, as garrick's funeral passed, contending wits and nobles strove, who should forsake him last. not so the world behaved to _him_ who came that world to save, by solitary joseph borne unheeded to his grave.' johnson wrote on april , : 'poor garrick's funeral expenses are yet unpaid, though the undertaker is broken.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . garrick was buried on feb. , , and had left his widow a large fortune. chatham died in may, . [ ] boswell had heard johnson maintain this; _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _post_, p. , note . [ ] this duel was fought on april , between mr. riddell of the horse-grenadiers, and mr. cunningham of the scots greys. riddell had the first fire, and shot cunningham through the breast. after a pause of two minutes cunningham returned the fire, and gave riddell a wound of which he died next day. _gent. mag._ , p. . boswell's grandfather's grandmother was a miss cunningham. rogers's _boswelliana_, p. . i do not know that there was any nearer connection. in scotland, i suppose, so much kindred as this makes two men 'near relations.' [ ] 'unto him that smiteth thee on the one cheek offer also the other.' _st. luke_, vi. . had miss burney thought of this text, she might have quoted it with effect against johnson, who, criticising her _evelina_, said:--'you write scotch, you say "the one,"--my dear, that's not english. never use that phrase again.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'turn not thou away.' _st. matthew_, v. . [ ] i think it necessary to caution my readers against concluding that in this or any other conversation of dr. johnson, they have his serious and deliberate opinion on the subject of duelling. in my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, ed. p. [p. , oct. ], it appears that he made this frank confession:--'nobody at times, talks more laxly than i do;' and, _ib_. p. [sept. , ], 'he fairly owned he could not explain the rationality of duelling.' we may, therefore, infer, that he could not think that justifiable, which seems so inconsistent with the spirit of the gospel. at the same time it must be confessed, that from the prevalent notions of honour, a gentleman who receives a challenge is reduced to a dreadful alternative. a remarkable instance of this is furnished by a clause in the will of the late colonel thomas, of the guards, written the night before he fell in a duel, sept. , :--'in the first place, i commit my soul to almighty god, in hopes of his mercy and pardon for the irreligious step i now (in compliance with the unwarrantable customs of this wicked world) put myself under the necessity of taking.' boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, aug. and sept. . dr. franklin (_memoirs_, i. ) says that when the assembly at philadelphia, the majority of which were quakers, was asked by new england to supply powder for some garrison, 'they would not grant money to buy powder, because that was an ingredient of war; but they voted an aid of £ to be appropriated for the purchase of bread, flour, wheat, or _other grain_.' the governor interpreted _other grain_ as gunpowder, without any objection ever being raised. [ ] 'a gentleman falling off his horse brake his neck, which sudden hap gave occasion of much speech of his former life, and some in this judging world judged the worst. in which respect a good friend made this good epitaph, remembering that of saint augustine, _misericordia domini inter pontem et fontem_. "my friend judge not me, thou seest i judge not thee; betwixt the stirrop and the ground, mercy i askt, mercy i found."' _camden's remains_, ed. , p. . [ ] 'in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.' _prayer-book._ [ ] upon this objection the reverend mr. ralph churton, fellow of brazennose college, oxford, has favoured me with the following satisfactory observation:--'the passage in the burial-service does not mean the resurrection of the person interred, but the general resurrection; it is in sure and certain hope of _the_ resurrection; not _his_ resurrection. where the deceased is really spoken of, the expression is very different, "as our hope is this our brother doth" [rest in christ]; a mode of speech consistent with every thing but absolute certainty that the person departed doth _not_ rest in christ, which no one can be assured of, without immediate revelation from heaven. in the first of these places also, "eternal life" does not necessarily mean eternity of bliss, but merely the eternity of the state, whether in happiness or in misery, to ensue upon the resurrection; which is probably the sense of "the life everlasting," in the apostles' creed. see _wheatly and bennet on the common prayer_.' boswell. [ ] six days earlier the lord-advocate dundas had brought in a bill for the regulation of the government of india. hastings, he said, should be recalled. his place should be filled by 'a person of independent fortune, who had not for object the repairing of his estate in india, that had long been the nursery of ruined and decayed fortunes.' _parl. hist_. xxiii. . johnson wrote to dr. taylor on nov. of this year:--'i believe corruption and oppression are in india at an enormous height, but it has never appeared that they were promoted by the directors, who, i believe, see themselves defrauded, while the country is plundered; but the distance puts their officers out of reach.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] stockdale (_memoirs_, ii. ) says that, in , the payment to writers in the _critical review_ was two guineas a sheet, but that some of the writers in _the monthly review_ received four guineas a sheet. as these reviews were octavos, each sheet contained sixteen pages. lord jeffrey says that the writers in the _edinburgh review_ were at first paid ten guineas a sheet. 'not long after the _minimum_ was raised to sixteen guineas, at which it remained during my reign, though two-thirds of the articles were paid much higher--averaging, i should think, from twenty to twenty-five guineas a sheet on the whole number.' cockburn's _jeffrey_, i. . [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] _monday_ is no doubt put by mistake for _tuesday_, which was the th. boswell had spent a considerable part of monday the th with johnson (_ante_, p. ). [ ] 'a fugitive from heaven and prayer, i mocked at all religious fear.' francis. horace, _odes_, i. . . [ ] he told boswell (_ante_, i. ) that he had been a sort of lax talker against religion for some years before he went to oxford, but that there he took up law's _serious call_ and found it quite an overmatch for him. 'this,' he said, 'was the first occasion of my thinking in earnest of religion after i became capable of rational enquiry.' during the vacation of he had a serious illness (_ante_, i. ), which most likely was 'the sickness that brought religion back.' [ ] see _ante_, i. , , and _post_, under dec. , . [ ] mr. langton. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] malloch continued to write his name thus, _after he came to london_. his verses prefixed to the second edition of thomson's _winter_ are so subscribed. malone. 'alias. a latin word signifying otherwise; as, mallet, _alias_ malloch; that is _otherwise_ malloch.' the mention of mallet first comes in johnson's own abridgment of his _dictionary_. in the earlier unabridged editions the definition concludes, 'often used in the trials of criminals, whose danger has obliged them to change their names; as simpson _alias_ smith, _alias_ baker, &c.' for mallet, see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] perhaps scott had this saying of johnson's in mind when he made earl douglas exclaim:-- 'at first in heart it liked me ill, when the king praised his clerkly skill. thanks to st. bothan, son of mine, save gawain, ne'er could pen a line.' _marmion_, canto vi. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, sept. . [ ] johnson often maintained this diffusion of learning. thus he wrote:--'the call for books was not in milton's age what it is in the present. to read was not then a general amusement; neither traders, nor often gentlemen, thought themselves disgraced by ignorance. the women had not then aspired to literature nor was every house supplied with a closet of knowledge.' _works_, vii. . he goes on to mention 'that general literature which now pervades the nation through all its ranks.' _works_, p. . 'that general knowledge which now circulates in common talk was in addison's time rarely to be found. men not professing learning were not ashamed of ignorance; and, in the female world, any acquaintance with books was distinguished only to be censured.' _ib_. p. . 'of the _essay on criticism_, pope declared that he did not expect the sale to be quick, because "not one gentleman in sixty, even of liberal education, could understand it." the gentlemen, and the education of that time, seem to have been of a lower character than they are of this.' _ib_. viii. . see _ante_, iii. , . yet he maintained that 'learning has decreased in england, because learning will not do so much for a man as formerly.' boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . [ ] malone describes a call on johnson in the winter of this year:--'i found him in his arm-chair by the fire-side, before which a few apples were laid. he was reading. i asked him what book he had got. he said the _history of birmingham_. local histories, i observed, were generally dull. "it is true, sir; but this has a peculiar merit with me; for i passed some of my early years, and married my wife there." [see _ante_, i. .] i supposed the apples were preparing as medicine. "why, no, sir; i believe they are only there because i want something to do. these are some of the solitary expedients to which we are driven by sickness. i have been confined this week past; and here you find me roasting apples, and reading the _history of birmingham_."' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] on april , he wrote:--'i can apply better to books than i could in some more vigorous parts of my life--at least than i _did_; and i have one more reason for reading--that time has, by taking away my companions, left me less opportunity of conversation.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] he told mr. windham that he had never read the _odyssey_ through in the original. windham's _diary_, p. . 'fox,' said rogers (_table talk_, p. ), 'used to read homer through once every year. on my asking him, "which poem had you rather have written, the _iliad_ or the _odyssey_?" he answered, "i know which i had rather read" (meaning the _odyssey_).' [ ] 'composition is, for the most part, an effort of slow diligence and steady perseverance, to which the mind is dragged by necessity or resolution, and from which the attention is every moment starting to more delightful amusements.' johnson's _works_, iv. . of pope johnson wrote (_ib_. viii. ):--'to make verses was his first labour, and to mend them was his last. ... he was one of those few whose labour is their pleasure.' thomas carlyle, in , speaking of writing, says:--'i always recoil from again engaging with it.' froude's _carlyle_, i. . five years later he wrote:--'writing is a dreadful labour, yet not so dreadful as _idleness_.' _ib_. ii. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] miss burney wrote to mrs. thrale in :--'i met at sir joshua's young burke, who is made much ado about, but i saw not enough of him to know why.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . mrs. thrale replied:--'i congratulate myself on being quite of your opinion concerning burke the minor, whom i once met and could make nothing of.' _ib_. p. . miss hawkins (_memoirs_, i. ) reports, on langton's authority, that burke said:--'how extraordinary it is that i, and lord chatham, and lord holland, should each have a son so superior to ourselves.' [ ] cruikshank, not cruikshanks (see _post_, under sept. , , and sept. ). he had been dr. hunter's partner; he was not elected (_gent. mag._ , p. ). northcote, in quoting this letter, says that 'sir joshua's influence in the academy was not always answerable to his desire. "those who are of some importance everywhere else," he said, "find themselves nobody when they come to the academy."' northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] william hunter, scarcely less famous as a physician than his youngest brother, john hunter, as a surgeon. [ ] let it be remembered by those who accuse dr. johnson of illiberality that both were _scotchmen_. boswell. [ ] the following day he dined at mrs. garrick's. 'poor johnson,' wrote hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ), 'exerted himself exceedingly, but he was very ill and looked so dreadfully, that it quite grieved me. he is more mild and complacent than he used to be. his sickness seems to have softened his mind, without having at all weakened it. i was struck with the mild radiance of this setting sun.' [ ] in the winter of - boswell began a canvass of his own county, he also courted lord lonsdale, in the hope of getting one of the seats in his gift, who first fooled him and then treated him with great brutality, _letters of boswell_, pp. , , . [ ] on april , --'a day,' wrote horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ), 'that ought for ever to be a red-lettered day'--mr. dunning made this motion. it was carried by to . _parl. hist._ xxi. - . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. for johnson's appeal to meals as a measure of vexation. [ ] johnson defines _cant_ as ' . a corrupt dialect used by beggars and vagabonds. . a particular form of speaking peculiar to some certain class or body of men. . a whining pretension to goodness in formal and affected terms. . barbarous jargon. . auction.' i have noted the following instances of his use of the word:--'i betook myself to a coffee-house frequented by wits, among whom i learned in a short time the _cant_ of criticism.' _the rambler_, no. . 'every class of society has its _cant_ of lamentation.' _ib_. no. . 'milton's invention required no assistance from the common _cant_ of poetry.' _ib_. no. . 'we shall secure our language from being overrun with _cant_, from being crowded with low terms, the spawn of folly or affectation.' _works_, v. ii. 'this fugitive _cant_, which is always in a state of increase or decay, cannot be regarded as any part of the durable materials of a language.' _ib_. p. . in a note on i _henry vi_, act iii. sc. , he says: 'to _roam_ is supposed to be derived from the _cant_ of vagabonds, who often pretended a pilgrimage to rome.' see _ante_, iii. , for 'modern _cant_.' [ ] 'custom,' wrote sir joshua, 'or politeness, or courtly manners has authorised such an eastern hyperbolical style of compliment, that part of dr. johnson's character for rudeness of manners must be put to the account of scrupulous adherence to truth. his obstinate silence, whilst all the company were in raptures, vying with each other who should pepper highest, was considered as rudeness or ill-nature.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] 'the shame is to impose words for ideas upon ourselves or others.' johnson's _works_, vi. . see _ante_, p. , where he says: 'there is a middle state of mind between conviction and hypocrisy.' bacon, in his _essay of truth_, says: 'it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and settleth in it, that doth the hurt.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'i dined and lay at harrison's, where i was received with that old-fashioned breeding which is at once so honourable and so troublesome.' gibbon's _misc. works_, i. . mr. pleydell, in _guy mannering_, ed. , iv. , says: 'you'll excuse my old-fashioned importunity. i was born in a time when a scotchman was thought inhospitable if he left a guest alone a moment, except when he slept.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] in johnson's _works_, ed. , xi. , it is recorded that johnson said, 'sheridan's writings on elocution were a continual renovation of hope, and an unvaried succession of disappointments.' according to the _gent. mag._ , p. , he continued:--'if we should have a bad harvest this year, mr. sheridan would say:--"it was owing to the neglect of oratory."' see _ante_, p. . [ ] burke, no doubt, was this 'bottomless whig.' when johnson said 'so they _all_ are now,' he was perhaps thinking of the coalition ministry in which lord north and his friends had places. [ ] no doubt burke, who was paymaster of the forces. he is boswell's 'eminent friend.' see _ante_ ii. , and _post_, dec. , , and jan. , . in these two consecutive paragraphs, though two people seem to be spoken of, yet only one is in reality. [ ] i believe that burke himself was present part of the time, and that he was the gentleman who 'talked of _retiring_. on may and he had in parliament defended his action in restoring to office two clerks, powell and bembridge, who had been dismissed by his predecessor, and he had justified his reforms in the paymaster's office. 'he awaited,' he said, the 'judgement of the house. ...if they so far differed in sentiment, he had only to say, _nunc dimittis servum tuum.' parl. hist._ xxiii. . [ ] a copy of _evelina_ had been placed in the bodleian. 'johnson says,' wrote miss burney, 'that when he goes to oxford he will write my name in the books, and my age when i writ them, and then,' he says, 'the world may know that we _so mix our studies, and so joined our fame._ for we shall go down hand in hand to posterity.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . the oldest copy of _evelina_ now in the bodleian is of an edition published after johnson's death. miss burney, in , married general d'arblay, a french refugee. [ ] macaulay maintained that johnson had a hand in the composition of _cecilia_. he quotes a passage from it, and says:--'we say with confidence, either sam. johnson or the devil.' (_essays_, ed. , iv. .) that he is mistaken is shown by mme. d'arblay's _diary_ (ii. ). 'ay,' cried dr. johnson, 'some people want to make out some credit to me from the little rogue's book. i was told by a gentleman this morning that it was a very fine book, if it was all her own.' "it is all her own," said i, "for me, i am sure, for i never saw one word of it before it was printed."' on p. she records the following:--'sir joshua. "gibbon says he read the whole five volumes in a day." "'tis impossible," cried mr. burke, "it cost me three days; and you know i never parted with it from the day i first opened it."' see _post_, among the imitators of johnson's style, under dec. , . [ ] in mr. barry's printed analysis, or description of these pictures, he speaks of johnson's character in the highest terms. boswell. barry, in one of his pictures, placed johnson between the two beautiful duchesses of rutland and devonshire, pointing to their graces mrs. montagu as an example. he expresses his 'reverence for his consistent, manly, and well-spent life.' barry's _works_, ii. . johnson, in his turn, praises 'the comprehension of barry's design.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . he was more likely to understand it, as the pictures formed a series, meant 'to illustrate one great maxim of moral truth, viz. that the obtaining of happiness depends upon cultivating the human faculties. we begin with man in a savage state full of inconvenience, imperfection, and misery, and we follow him through several gradations of culture and happiness, which, after our probationary state here, are finally attended with beatitude or misery.' barry's _works_, ii. . horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) describes barry's book as one 'which does not want sense, though full of passion and self, and vulgarisms and vanity.' [ ] boswell had tried to bring about a third meeting between johnson and wilkes. on may he wrote:--'mr. boswell's compliments to mr. wilkes. he finds that it would not be unpleasant to dr. johnson to dine at mr. wilkes's. the thing would be so curiously benignant, it were a pity it should not take place. nobody but mr. boswell should be asked to meet the doctor.' an invitation was sent, but the following answer was returned:--'may , . mr. johnson returns thanks to mr. and miss wilkes for their kind invitation; but he is engaged for tuesday to sir joshua reynolds, and for wednesday to mr. paradise.' owing to boswell's return to scotland, another day could not be fixed. almon's _wilkes_, iv. , . [ ] 'if the tree fall toward the south, or toward the north, in the place where the tree falleth, there it shall be.' _ecclesiastes_, xi. . [ ] 'when a tree is falling, i have seen the labourers, by a trivial jerk with a rope, throw it upon the spot where they would wish it should lie. divines, understanding this text too literally, pretend, by a little interposition in the article of death, to regulate a person's everlasting happiness. i fancy the allusion will hardly countenance their presumption.' shenstone's _works_, ed. , ii. . [ ] hazlitt says that 'when old baxter first went to kidderminster to preach, he was almost pelted by the women for maintaining from the pulpit the then fashionable and orthodox doctrine, that "hell was paved with infants' skulls.'" _conversations of northcote_, p. . [ ] _acts_, xvii. . [ ] now the celebrated mrs. crouch. boswell. [ ] mr. windham was at this time in dublin, secretary to the earl of northington, then lord lieutenant of ireland. boswell. see _ante_, p. . [ ] son of mr. samuel paterson. boswell. see _ante_, iii. , and _post_, april , . [ ] the late keeper of the royal academy. he died on jan. of this year. reynolds wrote of him:--'he may truly be said in every sense, to have been the father of the present race of artists.' northcote's _reynolds_ ii. . [ ] mr. allen was his landlord and next neighbour in bolt-court. _ante_, iii. . [ ] cowper mentions him in _retirement_:-- 'virtuous and faithful heberden! whose skill attempts no task it cannot well fulfill, gives melancholy up to nature's care, and sends the patient into purer air.' cowper's _poems_, ed. , i. . he is mentioned also by priestley (_auto._ ed. , p. ) as one of his chief benefactors. lord eldon, when almost a briefless barrister, consulted him. 'i put my hand into my pocket, meaning to give him his fee; but he stopped me, saying, "are you the young gentleman who gained the prize for the essay at oxford?" i said i was. "i will take no fee from you." i often consulted him; but he would never take a fee.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . [ ] how much he had physicked himself is shewn by a letter of may . 'i took on thursday,' he writes, 'two brisk catharticks and a dose of calomel. little things do me no good. at night i was much better. next day cathartick again, and the third day opium for my cough. i lived without flesh all the three days.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . he had been bled at least four times that year and had lost about fifty ounces of blood. _ante_, pp. , . on aug. , , he wrote:--'of the last fifty days i have taken mercurial physick, i believe, forty.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] an exact reprint of this letter is given by professor mayor in _notes and queries_, th s. v. . the omissions and the repetitions 'betray,' he says, 'the writer's agitation.' the postscript boswell had omitted. it is as follows:--'dr. brocklesby will be with me to meet dr. heberden, and i shall have previously make (sic) master of the case as well as i can.' [ ] vol. ii. p. , of mrs. thrale's _collection_. boswell. the beginning of the letter is very touching:--'i am sitting down in no cheerful solitude to write a narrative which would once have affected you with tenderness and sorrow, but which you will perhaps pass over now with the careless glance of frigid indifference. for this diminution of regard, however, i know not whether i ought to blame you, who may have reasons which i cannot know, and i do not blame myself, who have for a great part of human life done you what good i could, and have never done you evil.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'i have loved you,' he continued, 'with virtuous affection; i have honoured you with sincere esteem. let not all our endearments be forgotten, but let me have in this great distress your pity and your prayers. you see i yet turn to you with my complaints as a settled and unalienable friend; do not, do not drive me from you, for i have not deserved either neglect or hatred.' _ib._ p. . [ ] on aug. he wrote:--'i sat to mrs. reynolds yesterday for my picture, perhaps the tenth time, and i sat near three hours with the patience of _mortal born to bear_; at last she declared it quite finished, and seems to think it fine. i told her it was _johnson's grimly ghost_. it is to be engraved, and i think _in glided_, &c., will be a good inscription.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . johnson is quoting from mallet's ballad of _margaret's ghost_:-- 'twas at the silent solemn hour, when night and morning meet; in glided margaret's grimly ghost, and stood at william's feet.' _percy ballads_, in. , . according to northcote, reynolds said of his sister's oil-paintings, 'they made other people laugh and him cry.' 'she generally,' northcote adds, 'did them by stealth.' _life of reynolds_, ii. . [ ] 'nocte, inter et junii, . summe pater, quodcunque tuum de corpore numen hoc statuat, precibus christus adesse velit: ingenio parcas, nee sit mihi culpa rogasse, qua solum potero parte placere tibi.' _works_, i. . [ ] according to the _gent. mag_. , p. , dr. lawrence died at canterbury on june of this year, his second son died on the th. but, if we may trust munk's _roll of the college of physicians_, ii. , on the father's tomb-stone, june is given as the day of his death. mr. croker gives june as the date, and june as the day of the son's death, and is puzzled accordingly. [ ] poor derrick, however, though he did not himself introduce me to dr. johnson as he promised, had the merit of introducing me to davies, the immediate introductor. boswell. see _ante_, i. , . [ ] miss burney, calling on him the next morning, offered to make his tea. he had given her his own large arm-chair which was too heavy for her to move to the table. '"sir," quoth she, "i am in the wrong chair." "it is so difficult," cried he with quickness, "for anything to be wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be i that am in the wrong chair to keep you from the right one."' dr. burney's _memoirs_, ii. . [ ] his lordship was soon after chosen, and is now a member of the club. boswell. he was father of the future prime-minister, who was born in the following year. [ ] he wrote on june :--'what man can do for man has been done for me.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . murphy (_life_, p. ) says that, visiting him during illness, he found him reading dr. watson's _chymistry_ (_ante_, p. ). 'articulating with difficulty he said:--"from this book he who knows nothing may learn a great deal, and he who knows will be pleased to find his knowledge recalled to his mind in a manner highly pleasing."' [ ] 'i have, by the migration of one of my ladies, more peace at home; but i remember an old savage chief that says of the romans with great indignation-_ubi solitudinem faciunt pacem appellant_ [_tacitus, agricola_, c. xxx]. _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'july . i have been thirteen days at rochester, and am just now returned. i came back by water in a common boat twenty miles for a shilling, and when i landed at billingsgate, i carried my budget myself to cornhill before i could get a coach, and was not much incommoded' _ib_. ii. . see _ante_, iv. , , for mention of rochester. [ ] murphy (_life_, p. ) says that johnson visited oxford this summer. perhaps he was misled by a passage in the _piozzi letters_ (ii. ) where johnson is made to write:--'at oxford i have just left wheeler.' for _left_ no doubt should be read _lost_. wheeler died on july of this year. _gent. mag_. , p. . [ ] this house would be interesting to johnson, as in it charles ii, 'for whom he had an extraordinary partiality' (_ante_, ii. ), lay hid for some days after the battle of worcester. clarendon (vi. ) describes it 'as a house that stood alone from neighbours and from any highway.' charles was lodged 'in a little room, which had been made since the beginning of the troubles for the concealment of delinquents.' [ ] 'i told dr. johnson i had heard that mr. bowles was very much delighted with the expectation of seeing him, and he answered me:--"he is so delighted that it is shocking. it is really shocking to see how high are his expectations." i asked him why, and he said:--"why, if any man is expected to take a leap of twenty yards, and does actually take one of ten, everybody will be disappointed, though ten yards may be more than any other man ever leaped."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . on oct. , he wrote:--'two nights ago mr. burke sat with me a long time. we had both seen stonehenge this summer for the first time.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] salisbury is eighty-two miles from cornhill by the old coach-road. johnson seems to have been nearly fifteen hours on the journey. [ ] 'aug. , . i am now broken with disease, without the alleviation of familiar friendship or domestic society. i have no middle state between clamour and silence, between general conversation and self-tormenting solitude. levett is dead, and poor williams is making haste to die.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'aug. . this has been a day of great emotion; the office of the communion of the sick has been performed in poor mrs. williams's chamber.' _ib_. 'sept. . poor williams has, i hope, seen the end of her afflictions. she acted with prudence and she bore with fortitude. she has left me. "thou thy weary [worldly] task hast done, home art gone and ta'en thy wages." [_cymbeline_, act iv. sc. .] had she had good humour and prompt elocution, her universal curiosity and comprehensive knowledge would have made her the delight of all that knew her.' _ib_. p. . [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) described in such a companion as he found in mrs. williams. he quotes pope's _epitaph on mrs. corbet_, and continues:--'i have always considered this as the most valuable of all pope's epitaphs; the subject of it is a character not discriminated by any shining or eminent peculiarities; yet that which really makes, though not the splendour, the felicity of life, and that which every wise man will choose for his final and lasting companion in the languor of age, in the quiet of privacy, when he departs, weary and disgusted, from the ostentatious, the volatile and the vain. of such a character which the dull overlook, and the gay despise, it was fit that the value should be made known, and the dignity established.' see _ante_, i. . [ ] _pr. and med_. p. . boswell. [ ] i conjecture that mr. bowles is the friend. the account follows close on the visit to his house, and contains a mention of johnson's attendance at a lecture at salisbury. [ ] a writer in _notes and queries_, st s. xii. , says:--'mr. bowles had married a descendant of oliver cromwell, viz. dinah, the fourth daughter of sir thomas frankland, and highly valued himself upon this connection with the protector.' he adds that mr. bowles was an active whig. [ ] mr. malone observes, 'this, however, was certainly a mistake, as appears from the _memoirs_ published by mr. noble. had johnson been furnished with the materials which the industry of that gentleman has procured, and with others which, it it is believed, are yet preserved in manuscript, he would, without doubt, have produced a most valuable and curious history of cromwell's life.' boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] _short notes for civil conversation_. spedding's _bacon_, vii. . [ ] 'when i took up his _life of cowley_, he made me put it away to talk. i could not help remarking how very like he is to his writing, and how much the same thing it was to hear or to read him; but that nobody could tell that without coming to streatham, for his language was generally imagined to be laboured and studied, instead of the mere common flow of his thoughts. "very true," said mrs. thrale, "he writes and talks with the same ease, and in the same manner."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . what a different account is this from that given by macaulay:--'when he talked he clothed his wit and his sense in forcible and natural expressions. as soon as he took his pen in his hand to write for the public, his style became systematically vicious.' macaulay's _essays_, edit. , i. . see _ante_, ii. , note; iv. ; and _post_, the end of the vol. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , iii. , and boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] hume said:--'the french have more real politeness, and the english the better method of expressing it. by real politeness i mean softness of temper, and a sincere inclination to oblige and be serviceable, which is very conspicuous in this nation, not only among the high, but low; in so much that the porters and coachmen here are civil, and that, not only to gentlemen, but likewise among themselves.' j.h. burton's _hume_, i. . [ ] this is the third time that johnson's disgust at this practice is recorded. see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] 'sept. , . the chymical philosophers have discovered a body (which i have forgotten, but will enquire) which, dissolved by an acid, emits a vapour lighter than the atmospherical air. this vapour is caught, among other means, by tying a bladder compressed upon the body in which the dissolution is performed; the vapour rising swells the bladder and fills it. _piozzi letters_, ii. . the 'body' was iron-filings, the acid sulphuric acid, and the vapour nitrogen. the other 'new kinds of air' were the gases discovered by priestley. [ ] i do not wonder at johnson's displeasure when the name of dr. priestley was mentioned; for i know no writer who has been suffered to publish more pernicious doctrines. i shall instance only three. first, _materialism_; by which _mind_ is denied to human nature; which, if believed, must deprive us of every elevated principle. secondly, _necessity_; or the doctrine that every action, whether good or bad, is included in an unchangeable and unavoidable system; a notion utterly subversive of moral government. thirdly, that we have no reason to think that the _future_ world, (which, as he is pleased to _inform_ us, will be adapted to our _merely improved_ nature,) will be materially different from _this_; which, if believed, would sink wretched mortals into despair, as they could no longer hope for the 'rest that remaineth for the people of god' [_hebrews_, iv. ], or for that happiness which is revealed to us as something beyond our present conceptions; but would feel themselves doomed to a continuation of the uneasy state under which they now groan. i say nothing of the petulant intemperance with which he dares to insult the venerable establishments of his country. as a specimen of his writings, i shall quote the following passage, which appears to me equally absurd and impious, and which might have been retorted upon him by the men who were prosecuted for burning his house. 'i cannot, (says he,) as a _necessarian_, [meaning _necessitarian_] hate _any man_; because i consider him as _being_, in all respects, just what god has _made him to be_; and also as _doing with respect to me_, nothing but what he was _expressly designed_ and _appointed_ to do; god being the _only cause_, and men nothing more than the _instruments_ in his hands to _execute all his pleasure_.'-- _illustrations of philosophical necessity_, p. . the reverend dr. parr, in a late tract, appears to suppose that _'dr. johnson not only endured, but almost solicited, an interview with dr. priestley_. in justice to dr. johnson, i declare my firm belief that he never did. my illustrious friend was particularly resolute in not giving countenance to men whose writings he considered as pernicious to society. i was present at oxford when dr. price, even before he had rendered himself so generally obnoxious by his zeal for the french revolution, came into a company where johnson was, who instantly left the room. much more would he have reprobated dr. priestley. whoever wishes to see a perfect delineation of this _literary jack of all trades_, may find it in an ingenious tract, entitled, 'a small whole-length of dr. priestley,' printed for rivingtons, in st. paul's church-yard. boswell. see appendix b. [ ] burke said, 'i have learnt to think _better_ of mankind.' _ante_, iii. . [ ] he wrote to his servant frank from heale on sept. l :--'as thursday [the th] is my birthday i would have a little dinner got, and would have you invite mrs. desmoulins, mrs. davis that was about mrs. williams, and mr. allen, and mrs. gardiner.' croker's _boswell_, p. . see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] dr. burney had just lost mr. bewley, 'the broom gentleman' (_ante_, p. ), and mr. crisp. dr. burney's _memoirs_, ii. , . for mr. crisp, see macaulay's _review_ of mme. d'arblay's _diary. essays_, ed. , iv. . [ ] he wrote of her to mrs. montagu:--'her curiosity was universal, her knowledge was very extensive, and she sustained forty years of misery with steady fortitude. thirty years and more she had been my companion, and her death has left me very desolate.' croker's _boswell_, p. . this letter brought to a close his quarrel with mrs. montagu (_ante_, p. ). [ ] on sept. he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'if excision should be delayed, there is danger of a gangrene. you would not have me for fear of pain perish in putrescence. i shall, i hope, with trust in eternal mercy, lay hold of the possibility of life which yet remains.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] rather more than seven years ago. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] mrs. anna williams. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. , and boswell's _hebrides_, nov . [ ] dated oct. . _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] according to mrs. piozzi (_letters_, ii. ), he said to mrs. siddons:--'you see, madam, wherever you go there are no seats to be got.' sir joshua also paid her a fine compliment. 'he never marked his own name [on a picture],' says northcote, 'except in the instance of mrs. siddons's portrait as the tragic muse, when he wrote his name upon the hem of her garment. "i could not lose," he said, "the honour this opportunity offered to me for my name going down to posterity on the hem of your garment."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . in johnson's _works_, ed. , xi. , we read that 'he said of mrs. siddons that she appeared to him to be one of the few persons that the two great corrupters of mankind, money and reputation, had not spoiled.' [ ] 'indeed, dr. johnson,' said miss monckton, 'you _must_ see mrs. siddons.' 'well, madam, if you desire it, i will go. see her i shall not, nor hear her; but i'll go, and that will do.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] 'mrs. porter, the tragedian, was so much the favourite of her time, that she was welcomed on the stage when she trod it by the help of a stick.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] he said:--'mrs. clive was the best player i ever saw.' boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . see _ante_, p. . she was for many years the neighbour and friend of horace walpole. [ ] she acted the heroine in _irene. ante_, i. . 'it is wonderful how little mind she had,' he once said. _ante_, ii. . see boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see ante, iii. . [ ] 'garrick's great distinction is his universality,' johnson said. 'he can represent all modes of life, but that of an easy, fine-bred gentleman.' boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . see _ante_, iii. . horace walpole wrote of garrick in (_letters_, iv. ):--'several actors have pleased me more, though i allow not in so many parts. quin in falstaff was as excellent as garrick in _lear_. old johnson far more natural in everything he attempted; mrs. porter surpassed him in passionate tragedy. cibber and o'brien were what garrick could never reach, coxcombs and men of fashion. mrs. clive is at least as perfect in low comedy.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mr. kemble told mr. croker that 'mrs. siddons's pathos in the last scene of _the stranger_ quite overcame him, but he always endeavoured to restrain any impulses which might interfere with his previous study of his part.' croker's _boswell_, p. . diderot, writing of the qualifications of a great actor, says:--'je lui veux beaucoup de jugement; je le veux spectateur froid et tranquille de la nature humaine; qu'il ait par conséquent beaucoup de finesse, mais nulle sensibilité, ou, ce qui est la même chose, l'art de tout imiter, et une égale aptitude à toutes sortes de caractères et de rôles; s'il était sensible, il lui serait impossible de jouer dix fois de suite le même rôle avec la même chaleur et le même succès; très chaud à la première représentation, il serait épuisé et froid comme le marble à la troisième,' &c. diderot's _works_ (ed. ), iii. . see boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . [ ] my worthy friend, mr. john nichols, was present when mr. henderson, the actor, paid a visit to dr. johnson; and was received in a very courteous manner. see _gent. mag_. june, . i found among dr. johnson's papers, the following letter to him, from the celebrated mrs. bellamy [_ante_, i. ]:-- 'to dr. johnson. 'sir, 'the flattering remembrance of the partiality you honoured me with, some years ago, as well as the humanity you are known to possess, has encouraged me to solicit your patronage at my benefit. 'by a long chancery suit, and a complicated train of unfortunate events, i am reduced to the greatest distress; which obliges me, once more, to request the indulgence of the publick. 'give me leave to solicit the honour of your company, and to assure you, if you grant my request, the gratification i shall feel, from being patronized by dr. johnson, will be infinitely superiour to any advantage that may arise from the benefit; as i am, with the profoundest respect, sir, 'your most obedient, humble servant, g. a. bellamy. no. duke-street, st. james's, may , .' i am happy in recording these particulars, which prove that my illustrious friend lived to think much more favourably of players than he appears to have done in the early part of his life. boswell. mr. nichols, describing henderson's visit to johnson, says:--'the conversation turning on the merits of a certain dramatic writer, johnson said: "i never did the man an injury; but he would persist in reading his tragedy to me."' _gent. mag_: , p. . [ ] _piozzi letters_, vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] _piozzi letters_, vol. ii. p. . boswell. the letter to miss thrale was dated nov. . johnson wrote on dec. l :--'you must all guess again at my friend. it was not till dec. that he told the name. [ ] miss burney, who visited him on this day, records:--'he was, if possible, more instructive, entertaining, good-humoured, and exquisitely fertile than ever.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . the day before he wrote to one of mrs. thrale's little daughters:--'i live here by my own self, and have had of late very bad nights; but then i have had a pig to dinner which mr. perkins gave me. thus life is chequered.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] nos. and . [ ] _piozzi letters_, i. . see _ante_, p. . [ ] he strongly opposed the war with america, and was one of dr. franklin's friends. franklin's _memoirs_, ed. , iii. . [ ] it was of this tragedy that the following story is told in rogers's _table-talk_, p. :--'lord shelburne could say the most provoking things, and yet appear quite unconscious of their being so. in one of his speeches, alluding to lord carlisle, he said:--"the noble lord has written a comedy." "no, a tragedy." "oh, i beg pardon; i thought it was a comedy."' see _ante_, p. . pope, writing to mr. cromwell on aug. , , says:--'one might ask the same question of a modern life, that rich did of a modern play: "pray do me the favour, sir, to inform me is this your tragedy or your comedy?"' pope's _works_, ed. , vi. . [ ] mrs. chapone, when she was miss mulso, had written 'four billets in _the rambler_, no. .' _ante_, i. . she was one of the literary ladies who sat at richardson's feet. wraxall (_memoirs_, ed. , i. ) says that 'under one of the most repulsive exteriors that any woman ever possessed she concealed very superior attainments and extensive knowledge.' just as mrs. carter was often called 'the learned mrs. carter,' so mrs. chapone was known as 'the admirable mrs. chapone.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] a few copies only of this tragedy have been printed, and given to the authour's friends. boswell. [ ] dr. johnson having been very ill when the tragedy was first sent to him, had declined the consideration of it. boswell. [ ] johnson refers, i suppose, to a passage in dryden which he quotes in his _dictionary_ under _mechanick_:--'many a fair precept in poetry is like a seeming demonstration in mathematicks, very specious in the diagram, but failing in the mechanick operation.' [ ] 'i could have borne my woes; that stranger joy wounds while it smiles:--the long imprison'd wretch, emerging from the night of his damp cell, shrinks from the sun's bright beams; and that which flings gladness o'er all, to him is agony.' boswell. [ ] lord cockburn (_life of lord jeffrey_, i. ) describing the representation of scotland towards the close of last century, and in fact till the reform bill of , says:--'there were probably not above or county electors in all scotland; a body not too large to be held, hope included, in government's hand. the election of either the town or the county member was a matter of such utter indifference to the people, that they often only knew of it by the ringing of a bell, or by seeing it mentioned next day in a newspaper.' [ ] six years later, when he was _praeses_ of the quarter-sessions, he carried up to london an address to be presented to the prince of wales. 'this,' he wrote, 'will add something to my _conspicuousness_. will that word do?' _letters of boswell_, p. . [ ] this part of this letter was written, as johnson goes on to say, a considerable time before the conclusion. the coalition ministry, which was suddenly dismissed by the king on dec. , was therefore still in power. among boswell's 'friends' was burke. see _ante_, p. . [ ] on nov. he wrote to dr. taylor:-'i feel the weight of solitude very pressing; after a night of broken and uncomfortable slumber i rise to a solitary breakfast, and sit down in the evening with no companion. sometimes, however, i try to read more and more.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . on dec. he wrote to mrs. thrale:--'you have more than once wondered at my complaint of solitude, when you hear that i am crowded with visits. _inopem me copia fecit_. visitors are no proper companions in the chamber of sickness. they come when i could sleep or read, they stay till i am weary.... the amusements and consolations of langour and depression are conferred by familiar and domestick companions, which can be visited or called at will.... such society i had with levett and williams; such i had where i am never likely to have it more.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] the confusion arising from the sudden dismissal of a ministry which commanded a large majority in the house of commons had been increased by the resignation, on dec. , of earl temple, three days after his appointment as secretary of state. _parl. hist_. xxiv. . [ ] 'news i know none,' wrote horace walpole on dec. , (_letters_, viii. ), 'but that they are crying peerages about the streets in barrows, and can get none off.' thirty-three peerages were made in the next three years. (_whitaker's almanac_, , p. .) macaulay tells how this december 'a troop of lords of the bedchamber, of bishops who wished to be translated, and of scotch peers who wished to be reelected made haste to change sides.' macaulay's _writings and speeches_, ed. , p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . he died oct. , . [ ]'prince henry was the first encourager of remote navigation. what mankind has lost and gained by the genius and designs of this prince it would be long to compare, and very difficult to estimate. much knowledge has been acquired, and much cruelty been committed; the belief of religion has been very little propagated, and its laws have been outrageously and enormously violated. the europeans have scarcely visited any coast but to gratify avarice, and extend corruption; to arrogate dominion without right, and practise cruelty without incentive. happy had it then been for the oppressed, if the designs of henry had slept in his bosom, and surely more happy for the oppressors.' johnson's _works_, v. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] 'the author himself,' wrote gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ), 'is the best judge of his own performance; no one has so deeply meditated on the subject; no one is so sincerely interested in the event.' [ ] mickle, speaking in the third person as the translator, says:-- 'he is happy to be enabled to add dr. johnson to the number of those whose kindness for the man, and good wishes for the translation, call for his sincerest gratitude.' mickle's _lusiad_, p. ccxxv. [ ] a brief record, it should seem, is given, _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] the author of _memoirs of the life and writings of dr, johnson_ says (p. ) that it was johnson who determined shaw to undertake this work. 'sir,' he said, 'if you give the world a vocabulary of that language, while the island of great britain stands in the atlantic ocean your name will be mentioned.' on p. is a letter by johnson introducing shaw to a friend. [ ] 'why is not the original deposited in some publick library?' he asked. boswell's _hebrides_, nov. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] see appendix c. [ ] 'dec. , . the wearisome solitude of the long evenings did indeed suggest to me the convenience of a club in my neighbourhood, but i have been hindered from attending it by want of breath.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'dec. . i have much need of entertainment; spiritless, infirm, sleepless, and solitary, looking back with sorrow and forward with terrour.' _ib_, p. . [ ] '"i think," said mr. cambridge, "it sounds more like some club that one reads of in _the spectator_ than like a real club in these times; for the forfeits of a whole year will not amount to those of a single night in other clubs."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . mr. cambridge was thinking of the two-penny club. _spectator_, no. ix. [ ] i was in scotland when this club was founded, and during all the winter. johnson, however, declared i should be a member, and invented a word upon the occasion: 'boswell (said he) is a very _clubable_ man.' when i came to town i was proposed by mr. barrington, and chosen. i believe there are few societies where there is better conversation or more decorum. several of us resolved to continue it after our great founder was removed by death. other members were added; and now, above eight years since that loss, we go on happily. boswell. mr. croker says 'johnson had already invented _unclubable_ for sir j. hawkins,' and refers to a note by dr. burney (_ante_, i. , note i), in which johnson is represented as saying of hawkins, while he was still a member of the literary club:--'sir john, sir, is a very unclubable man.' but, as mr. croker points out (croker's _boswell_, p. ), 'hawkins was not knighted till long after he had left the club.' the anecdote, being proved to be inaccurate in one point, may be inaccurate in another, and may therefore belong to a much later date. [ ] see appendix d. [ ] ben jonson wrote _leges convivales_ that were 'engraven in marble over the chimney in the apollo of the old devil tavern, temple bar; that being his club room.' jonson's _works_, ed. , vii. . [ ] rules. 'to-day deep thoughts with me resolve to drench in mirth, which after no repenting draws.'--milton. ['to-day deep thoughts _resolve with me_ to drench in mirth _that_, &c.' _sonnets_, xxi.] 'the club shall consist of four-and-twenty. 'the meetings shall be on the monday, thursday, and saturday of every week; but in the week before easter there shall be no meeting. 'every member is at liberty to introduce a friend once a week, but not oftener. 'two members shall oblige themselves to attend in their turn every night from eight to ten, or to procure two to attend in their room. 'every member present at the club shall spend at least sixpence; and every member who stays away shall forfeit three-pence. 'the master of the house shall keep an account of the absent members; and deliver to the president of the night a list of the forfeits incurred. 'when any member returns after absence, he shall immediately lay down his forfeits; which if he omits to do, the president shall require. 'there shall be no general reckoning, but every man shall adjust his own expences. 'the night of indispensable attendance will come to every member once a month. whoever shall for three months together omit to attend himself, or by substitution, nor shall make any apology in the fourth month, shall be considered as having abdicated the club. 'when a vacancy is to be filled, the name of the candidate, and of the member recommending him, shall stand in the club-room three nights. on the fourth he may be chosen by ballot; six members at least being present, and two-thirds of the ballot being in his favour; or the majority, should the numbers not be divisible by three. 'the master of the house shall give notice, six days before, to each of those members whose turn of necessary attendance is come. 'the notice may be in these words:--"sir, on ---- the ---- of ---- -- will be your turn of presiding at the essex-head. your company is therefore earnestly requested." 'one penny shall be left by each member for the waiter.' johnson's definition of a club in this sense, in his _dictionary_, is, 'an assembly of good fellows, meeting under certain conditions.' boswell. [ ] she had left him in the summer (_ante_, p. ), but perhaps she had returned. [ ] he received many acts of kindness from outside friends. on dec. he wrote:--'i have now in the house pheasant, venison, turkey, and ham, all unbought. attention and respect give pleasure, however late or however useless. but they are not useless when they are late; it is reasonable to rejoice, as the day declines, to find that it has been spent with the approbation of mankind.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'dec. , . i spent the afternoon with dr. johnson, who indeed is very ill, and whom i could hardly tell how to leave. he was very, very kind. oh! what a cruel, heavy loss will he be! dec. . i went to dr. johnson, and spent the evening with him. he was very indifferent indeed. there were some very disagreeable people with him; and he once affected me very much by turning suddenly to me, and grasping my hand and saying:--"the blister i have tried for my breath has betrayed some very bad tokens; but i will not terrify myself by talking of them. ah! _priez dieu pour moi_."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , . 'i snatch,' he wrote a few weeks later, 'every lucid interval, and animate myself with such amusements as the time offers.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] he had written to her on nov. . see croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, ) says that this november johnson said to him:--'what a man am i, who have got the better of three diseases, the palsy, the gout, and the asthma, and can now enjoy the conversation of my friends, without the interruptions of weakness or pain.' [ ] 'the street [on london bridge], which, before the houses fell to decay, consisted of handsome lofty edifices, pretty regularly built, was feet broad, and the houses on each side generally - / feet deep.' after no more leases were granted, and the houses were allowed to run to ruin. in - they were all taken down. dodsley's _london and its environs_, ed. , iv. - . [ ] in lowndes's _bibl. man_. i. is given a list of nearly fifty of these books. some of them were reprinted by stace in - in vols. quarto. dr. franklin, writing of the books that he bought in his boyhood says:--'my first acquisition was bunyan's works in separate little volumes. i afterwards sold them to enable me to buy r. burton's _historical collections_; they were small chapmen's books, and cheap. forty volumes in all.' franklin's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale this same day:--'alas, i had no sleep last night, and sit now panting over my paper. _dabit deus his quoque finem.' ['this too the gods shall end.' morris, virgil, _aeneids_, . .] _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] boswell's purpose in this _letter_ was to recommend the scotch to address the king to express their satisfaction that the east india company bill had been rejected by the house of lords. _ib_. p. . 'let us,' he writes, 'upon this awful occasion think only of _property_ and _constitution_;' p. . 'let me add,' he says in concluding, 'that a dismission of the portland administration will probably disappoint an object which i have most ardently at heart;' p. . he was thinking no doubt of his 'expectations from the interest of an eminent person then in power' (ante, p. .) [ ] on p. boswell condemns the claim of parliament to tax the american colonies as 'unjust and inexpedient.' 'this claim,' he says, 'was almost universally approved of in scotland, where due consideration was had of the advantage of raising regiments.' he continues:--'when pleading at the bar of the house of commons in a question concerning taxation, i avowed that opinion, declaring that the man in the world for whom i have the highest respect (dr. johnson) had not been able to convince me that _taxation was no tyranny_.' [ ] boswell wrote to reynolds on feb. :--'i intend to be in london next month, chiefly to attend upon dr. johnson with respectful affection.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] 'i have really hope from spring,' he wrote on jan. , 'and am ready, like almanzor, to bid the sun _fly swiftly_, and _leave weeks and months behind him_. the sun has looked for six thousand years upon the world to little purpose, if he does not know that a sick man is almost as impatient as a lover.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . almanzor's speech is at the end of dryden's _conquest of granada_:-- 'move swiftly, sun, and fly a lover's pace; leave weeks and months behind thee in thy race.' see _ante_, i. , where johnson said, 'this distinction of seasons is produced only by imagination operating on luxury. to temperance every day is bright,' and _post_, aug. , . [ ] he died in the following august at dover, on his way home. walpole's _letters_, viii. . see _ante_, iii. , , and _post_, aug. , . [ ] on the last day of the old year he wrote:--'to any man who extends his thoughts to national consideration, the times are dismal and gloomy. but to a sick man, what is the publick?' _piozzi letters_, ii. . the original of the following note is in the admirable collection of autographs belonging to my friend, mr. m. m. holloway:-- 'to the rev. dr. taylor, 'in ashbourne, 'derbyshire. 'dear sir, 'i am still confined to the house, and one of my amusements is to write letters to my friends, though they, being busy in the common scenes of life, are not equally diligent in writing to me. dr. heberden was with me two or three days ago, and told me that nothing ailed me, which i was glad to hear, though i knew it not to be true. my nights are restless, my breath is difficult, and my lower parts continue tumid. 'the struggle, you see, still continues between the two sets of ministers: those that are _out_ and _in_ one can scarce call them, for who is _out_ or _in_ is perhaps four times a day a new question. the tumult in government is, i believe, excessive, and the efforts of each party outrageously violent, with very little thought on any national interest, at a time when we have all the world for our enemies, when the king and parliament have lost even the titular dominion of america, and the real power of government every where else. thus empires are broken down when the profits of administration are so great, that ambition is satisfied with obtaining them, and he that aspires to greatness needs do nothing more than talk himself into importance. he has then all the power which danger and conquest used formerly to give; he can raise a family and reward his followers. 'mr. burke has just sent me his speech upon the affairs of india, a volume of above a hundred pages closely printed. i will look into it; but my thoughts seldom now travel to great distances. 'i would gladly know when you think to come hither, and whether this year you will come or no. if my life be continued, i know not well how i shall bestow myself. 'i am, sir, 'your affectionate &c., 'sam. johnson.' 'london, jan. , .' [ ] see _post_, v. . [ ] see _post_, p. . [ ] i sent it to mr. pitt, with a letter, in which i thus expressed myself:--'my principles may appear to you too monarchical: but i know and am persuaded, they are not inconsistent with the true principles of liberty. be this as it may, you, sir, are now the prime minister, called by the sovereign to maintain the rights of the crown, as well as those of the people, against a violent faction. as such, you are entitled to the warmest support of every good subject in every department.' he answered:--'i am extremely obliged to you for the sentiments you do me the honour to express, and have observed with great pleasure the _zealous and able support_ given to the cause of the publick in the work you were so good to transmit to me.' boswell. five years later, and two years before _the life of johnson_ was published, boswell wrote to temple:--'as to pitt, he is an insolent fellow, but so able, that upon the whole i must support him against the _coalition_; but i will _work_ him, for he has behaved very ill to me. can he wonder at my wishing for preferment, when men of the first family and fortune in england struggle for it?' _letters of boswell_, p. . warburton said of helvetius, whom he disliked, that, if he had met him, 'he would have _worked_ him.' walpole's _letters_, iv. . [ ] out of this offer, and one of a like nature made in (_ante_, iii. ), mr. croker weaves a vast web of ridiculous suspicions. [ ] from his garden at prestonfield, where he cultivated that plant with such success, that he was presented with a gold medal by the society of london for the encouragement of arts, manufactures, and commerce. boswell. [ ] in the original _effusion_. johnson's _works_, vii. . [ ] who had written him a very kind letter. boswell. [ ] on jan. the ministry had been in a minority of in a house of ; on march the minority was reduced to one in a house of . parliament was dissolved on the th. in the first division in the new parliament the ministry were in a majority of in a house of . _parl. hist._ xxiv. , , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'in old aberdeen stands the king's college, of which the first president was hector boece, or boethius, who may be justly reverenced as one of the revivers of elegant learning.' johnson's _works_, ix. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] in his dining-room, no doubt, among 'the very respectable people' whose portraits hung there. _ante_, p. , note. [ ] horace walpole (_letters_, viii. ) wrote on march :--'the nation is intoxicated, and has poured in addresses of thanks to the crown for exerting the prerogative _against_ the palladium of the people.' [ ] the election lasted from april to may . fox was returned second on the poll. _ann. reg._ xxvii. . [ ] he was returned also for kirkwall, for which place he sat for nearly a year, while the scrutiny of the westminster election was dragging on. _parl. hist_. xxiv. . [ ] hannah more wrote on march (_memoirs_, i. ):--'i am sure you will honour mr. langton, when i tell you he is come on purpose to stay with dr. johnson, and that during his illness. he has taken a little lodging in fleet-street in order to be near, to devote himself to him. he has as much goodness as learning, and that is saying a bold thing of one of the first greek scholars we have.' [ ] floyer was the lichfield physician on whose advice johnson was '_touched_' by queen anne. _ante_, i. , , and _post_, july , . [ ] to which johnson returned this answer:-- 'to the right honourable earl of portmore. 'dr. johnson acknowledges with great respect the honour of lord portmore's notice. he is better than he was; and will, as his lordship directs, write to mr. langton. 'bolt-court, fleet-street, april , .' boswell. johnson here assumes his title of doctor, which boswell says (_ante_, ii. , note ), so far as he knew, he never did. perhaps the letter has been wrongly copied, or perhaps johnson thought that, in writing to a man of title, he ought to assume such title as he himself had. [ ] the eminent painter, representative of the ancient family of homfrey (now humphry) in the west of england; who, as appears from their arms which they have invariably used, have been, (as i have seen authenticated by the best authority,) one of those among the knights and esquires of honour who are represented by holinshed as having issued from the tower of london on coursers apparelled for the justes, accompanied by ladies of honour, leading every one a knight, with a chain of gold, passing through the streets of london into smithfield, on sunday, at three o'clock in the afternoon, being the first sunday after michaelmas, in the fourteenth year of king richard the second. this family once enjoyed large possessions, but, like others, have lost them in the progress of ages. their blood, however, remains to them well ascertained; and they may hope in the revolution of events, to recover that rank in society for which, in modern times, fortune seems to be an indispensable requisite. boswell. [ ] son of mr. samuel paterson. boswell. in the first two editions after 'paterson' is added 'eminent for his knowledge of books.' see _ante_, iii. . [ ] humphry, on his first coming to london, poor and unfriended, was helped by reynolds. northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] on april he wrote:--'after a confinement of days, more than the third part of a year, and no inconsiderable part of human life, i this day returned thanks to god in st. clement's church for my recovery.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] on april he wrote:--'on saturday i showed myself again to the living world at the exhibition; much and splendid was the company, but like the doge of genoa at paris [versailles, voltaire, _siècle de louis xiv_, chap, xiv.], i admired nothing but myself. i went up the stairs to the pictures without stopping to rest or to breathe, "in all the madness of superfluous health." [pope's _essay on man_, iii. .] the prince of wales had promised to be there; but when we had waited an hour and a half, sent us word that he could not come.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'the first gentleman in europe' was twenty-one years old when he treated men like johnson and reynolds with this insolence. mr. forster (_life of goldsmith_, ii. ) says that it was at this very dinner that 'johnson left his seat by desire of the prince of wales, and went to the head of the table to be introduced.' he does not give his authority for the statement. [ ] mr. croker wrote in that he had 'seen it very lately framed and glazed, in possession of the lady to whom it was addressed.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] shortly before he begged one of mrs. thrale's daughters 'never to think that she had arithmetic enough.' _ante_, p. , note . see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] cowper wrote on may to the rev. john newton:--'we rejoice in the account you give us of dr. johnson. his conversion will indeed be a singular proof of the omnipotence of grace; and the more singular, the more decided.' southey's _cowper_, xv. . johnson, in a prayer that he wrote on april , said:--'enable me, o lord, to glorify thee for that knowledge of my corruption, and that sense of thy wrath, which my disease and weakness and danger awakened in my mind.' _pr. and med._ p. . [ ] mr. croker suggests _immediate_. [ ] 'the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.' _st. james_, v. . [ ] upon this subject there is a very fair and judicious remark in the life of dr. abernethy, in the first edition of the _biographia britannica_, which i should have been glad to see in his life which has been written for the second edition of that valuable work. 'to deny the exercise of a particular providence in the deity's government of the world is certainly impious: yet nothing serves the cause of the scorner more than an incautious forward zeal in determining the particular instances of it.' in confirmation of my sentiments, i am also happy to quote that sensible and elegant writer mr. _melmoth_ [see _ante_, iii. ], in letter viii. of his collection, published under the name of _fitzosborne_. 'we may safely assert, that the belief of a particular providence is founded upon such probable reasons as may well justify our assent. it would scarce, therefore, be wise to renounce an opinion which affords so firm a support to the soul, in those seasons wherein she stands in most need of assistance, merely because it is not possible, in questions of this kind, to solve every difficulty which attends them.' boswell. [ ] i was sorry to observe lord monboddo avoid any communication with dr. johnson. i flattered myself that i had made them very good friends (see _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, third edit. p. , _post_, v. ), but unhappily his lordship had resumed and cherished a violent prejudice against my illustrious friend, to whom i must do the justice to say, there was on his part not the least anger, but a good-humoured sportiveness. nay, though he knew of his lordship's indisposition towards him, he was even kindly; as appeared from his inquiring of me after him, by an abbreviation of his name, 'well, how does _monny_?' boswell. boswell (_hebrides, post_, v. ) says:--'i knew lord monboddo and dr. johnson did not love each other; yet i was unwilling not to visit his lordship, and was also curious to see them together.' accordingly, he brought about a meeting. four years later, in (_ante_, iii. ), monboddo received from johnson a copy of his journey to the hebrides. they met again in london in (piozzi letters, ii. iii), and perhaps then quarrelled afresh. dr. seattle wrote on feb. , :-'lord monboddo's hatred of johnson was singular; he would not allow him to know anything but latin grammar, "and that," says he, "i know as well as he does." i never heard johnson say anything severe of him, though when he mentioned his name, he generally "grinned horribly a ghastly smile,"' ['grinned horrible,' &c. _paradise lost_, ii. .] forbes's _beattie_, p. . the use of the abbreviation _monny_ on johnson's part scarcely seems a proof of kindliness. see _ante_, i. , where he said:--'why, sir, _sherry_ is dull, naturally dull,' &c.; and iii. , note , where he said:--'i should have thought _mund_ burke would have had more sense;' see also rogers's _boswelliana_, p. , where he said:--'_derry_ [derrick] may do very well while he can outrun his character; but the moment that his character gets up with him he is gone.' [ ] on may he wrote:--' now i am broken loose, my friends seem willing enough to see me. ... but i do not now drive the world about; the world drives or draws me. i am very weak.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante,_ iii, . [ ] see _ante,_ p. . [ ] boswell himself, likely enough. [ ] verses on the death of mr. levett. boswell. _ante,_ p. [ ] if it was boswell to whom this advice was given, it is not unlikely that he needed it. the meagreness of his record of johnson's talk at this season may have been due, as seems to have happened before, to too much drinking. _ante,_ p. , note . [ ] _ante,_ ii. . [ ] george steevens. see _ante,_ iii. . [ ] forty-six years earlier johnson wrote of this lady:-'i have composed a greek epigram to eliza, and think she ought to be celebrated in as many different languages as lewis le grand.' _ante_, i. . miss burney described her in as 'really a noble-looking woman; i never saw age so graceful in the female sex yet; her whole face seems to beam with goodness, piety, and philanthropy.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . [ ] 'mrs. thrale says that though mrs. lennox's books are generally approved, nobody likes her.' _ib._ p. . see _ante_, i. , and iv. . [ ] 'sept. . mrs. thrale. "mrs. montagu is the first woman for literary knowledge in england, and if in england, i hope i may say in the world." dr. johnson. "i believe you may, madam. she diffuses more knowledge in her conversation than any woman i know, or, indeed, almost any man." mrs. thrale. "i declare i know no man equal to her, take away yourself and burke, for that art."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . it is curious that mrs. thrale and boswell should both thus instance burke. miss burney writes of her in much more moderate terms:--'allowing a little for parade and ostentation, which her power in wealth and rank in literature offer some excuse for, her conversation is very agreeable; she is always reasonable and sensible, and sometimes instructive and entertaining.' _ib._ p. . see _ante_, ii. , note . these five ladies all lived to a great age. mrs. montagu was when she died; mrs. lennox, ; miss burney (mme. d'arblay), ; miss more and mrs. (miss) carter, . their hostess, mrs. garrick, was or . [ ] miss burney, describing how she first saw burke, says:--'i had been told that burke was not expected; yet i could conclude this gentleman to be no other. there was an evident, a striking superiority in his demeanour, his eye, his motions, that announced him no common man.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. , where johnson said of burke:--'his stream of mind is perpetual;' and boswell's _hebrides post,_, v. , and prior's _life of burke_, fifth edition, p. . [ ] _kennel_ is a strong word to apply to burke; but, in his jocularity, he sometimes 'let himself down' to indelicate stories. in the house of commons he had told one--and a very stupid one too--not a year before. _parl. hist_, xxiii. . horace walpole speaks of burke's 'pursuit of wit even to puerility.' _journal of the reign of george iii_, i. . he adds (_ib_. ii. ):--'burke himself always aimed at wit, but was not equally happy in public and private. in the former, nothing was so luminous, so striking, so abundant; in private, it was forced, unnatural, and bombast.' see _ante_, p. , where wilkes said that in his oratory 'there was a strange want of taste.' [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, third edition, p. [_post_, v. .] boswell. see also _ante_, i. , and iii. . [ ] i have since heard that the report was not well founded; but the elation discovered by johnson in the belief that it was true, shewed a noble ardour for literary fame. boswell. johnson wrote on feb. :--'one thing which i have just heard you will think to surpass expectation. the chaplain of the factory at petersburgh relates that the _rambler_ is now, by the command of the empress, translating into russian, and has promised, when it is printed, to send me a copy.' _piozzi letters,_ ii. . stockdale records (_memoirs,_ ii. ) that in the empress of russia engaged 'six english literary gentlemen for instructors of her young nobility in her academy at st. petersburgh.' he was offered one of the posts. her zeal may have gone yet further, and she may have wished to open up english literature to those who could not read english. beauclerk's library was offered for sale to the russian ambassador. _ante,_ iii. . miss burney, in , said that a newspaper reported that 'angelica kauffmann is making drawings from _evelina_ for the empress of russia.' mme. d'arblay's _diary,_ v. . [ ] '--me peritus disect iber, rhodanique potor.' 'to him who drinks the rapid rhone shall horace, deathless bard, be known.' francis. horace, _odes_, ii. . . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _post_, june , . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] h. c. robinson (_diary_, i. ) describes him as 'an author on an infinity of subjects; his books were on law, history, poetry, antiquities, divinity, politics.' he adds (_ib_. p. l):--'godwin, lofft, and thelwall are the only three persons i know (except hazlitt) who grieve at the late events'--the defeat of napoleon at waterloo. he found long after his death 'a ms. by him in these words:--"rousseau, euripides, tasso, racine, cicero, virgil, petrarch, richardson. if i had five millions of years to live upon this earth, these i would read daily with increasing delight."' _ib_. iii. . [ ] dunciad, iv. , note. [ ] the king opened parliament this day. hannah more during the election found the mob favourable to fox. one night, in a sedan chair, she was stopped with the news that it was not safe to go through covent garden. 'there were a hundred armed men,' she was told, 'who, suspecting every chairman belonged to brookes's, would fall upon us. a vast number of people followed me, crying out "it is mrs. fox; none but mr. fox's wife would dare to come into covent garden in a chair; she is going to canvas in the dark."' h. more's _memoirs_, i. . horace walpole wrote on april :--'in truth mr. fox has all the popularity in westminster.' _letters_, viii. . [ ] see _post_, under june , , where johnson describes fox as 'a man who has divided the kingdom with caesar.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] boswell twice speaks of w. g. hamilton as 'an eminent friend' of johnson. he was not boswell's friend. (ante, p. , and _post_, under dec. , .) but boswell does not here say 'a friend _of ours_.' by 'eminent friend' burke is generally meant, and he, possibly, is meant here. boswell, it is true, speaks of his 'orderly and amiable domestic habits' (_ante_, iii. ); but then boswell mentions the person here 'as a virtuous man.' if burke is meant, johnson's suspicions would seem to be groundless. [ ] see _ante_, p. , where johnson 'wonders why he should have any enemies.' [ ] after all, i cannot but be of opinion, that as mr. langton was seriously requested by dr. johnson to mention what appeared to him erroneous in the character of his friend, he was bound, as an honest man, to intimate what he really thought, which he certainly did in the most delicate manner; so that johnson himself, when in a quiet frame of mind, was pleased with it. the texts suggested are now before me, and i shall quote a few of them. 'blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.' _mat._ v. .--'i therefore, the prisoner of the lord, beseech you, that ye walk worthy of the vocation wherewith ye are called; with all lowliness and meekness, with long-suffering, forbearing one another in love.' _ephes._ v. [iv.] , .--'and above all these things put on charity, which is the bond of perfectness.' _col._ iii. .--'charity suffereth long and is kind; charity envieth not, charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up: doth not behave itself unseemly, is not easily provoked.' _cor._ xiii. , . boswell. johnson, in _the rambler,_ no. , had almost foretold what would happen. 'for escaping these and a thousand other deceits many expedients have been proposed. some have recommended the frequent consultation of a wise friend, admitted to intimacy and encouraged by sincerity. but this appears a remedy by no means adapted to general use; for, in order to secure the virtue of one, it pre-supposes more virtue in two than will generally be found. in the first, such a desire of rectitude and amendment as may incline him to hear his own accusation from the mouth of him whom he esteems, and by whom therefore he will always hope that his faults are not discovered; and in the second, such zeal and honesty as will make him content for his friend's advantage to lose his kindness.' [ ] member for dumfries. [ ] malone points out that the passage is not in bacon, but in boyle, and that it is quoted in johnson's _dictionary_ (in the later editions only), under _cross-bow._ it is as follows:--'testimony is like the shot of a long-bow, which owes its efficacy to the force of the shooter; argument is like the shot of the cross-bow, equally forcible whether discharged by a giant or a dwarf.' see smollett's _works_, ed. , i. cliv, for a somewhat fuller account by dr. moore of what was said by johnson this evening. [ ] the peace made by that very able statesman, the earl of shelburne, now marquis of lansdown, which may fairly be considered as the foundation of all the prosperity of great britain since that time. boswell. in the winter of - , preliminary treaties of peace were made with the united states, france, and spain; and a suspension of arms with holland. the ode is made up of such lines as the following:-- 'while meek philosophy explores creation's vast stupendous round, with piercing gaze sublime she soars, and bursts the system's distant bound.' _gent. mag._; . p. . [ ] in the first edition of my work, the epithet _amiable_ was given. i was sorry to be obliged to strike it out; but i could not in justice suffer it to remain, after this young lady had not only written in favour of the savage anarchy with which france has been visited, but had (as i have been informed by good authority), walked, without horrour, over the ground at the thuillieries, when it was strewed with the naked bodies of the faithful swiss guards, who were barbarously massacred for having bravely defended, against a crew of ruffians, the monarch whom they had taken an oath to defend. from dr. johnson she could now expect not endearment but repulsion. boswell. [ ] rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) described her as 'a very fascinating person,' and narrated a curious anecdote which he heard from her about the reign of terror. [ ] this year, forming as it did exactly a quarter of a century since handel's death, and a complete century since his birth, was sought, says the _gent. mag._ ( , p. ) as the first public periodical occasion for bringing together musical performers in england. dr. burney writes (_ann. reg._ , p. ):--'foreigners must have been astonished at so numerous a band, moving in such exact measure, without the assistance of a coryphaeus to beat time. rousseau says that "the more time is beaten, the less it is kept."' there were upwards of performers. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] lady wronghead, whispers mrs. motherly, pointing to myrtilla. '_mrs. motherly_. only a niece of mine, madam, that lives with me; she will be proud to give your ladyship any assistance in her power. '_lady wronghead_. a pretty sort of a young woman--jenny, you two must be acquainted. '_jenny_. o mamma! i am never strange in a strange place. _salutes myrtilla_.' _the provoked husband; or, a journey to london_, act ii. sc. , by vanbrugh and colley gibber. it was not therefore squire richard whom johnson quoted, but his sister. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i. , for his application of this story. [ ] she too was learned; for according to hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) she had learnt hebrew, merely to be useful to her husband. [ ] 'this day then let us not be told, that you are sick, and i grown old; nor think on our approaching ills, and talk of spectacles and pills.' swift's _lines on stella's birthday_, - . works, ed. , xi. . [ ] dr. newton, in his _account of his own life_, after animadverting upon mr. gibbon's _history_, says, 'dr. johnson's _lives of the poets_ afforded more amusement; but candour was much hurt and offended at the malevolence that predominates in every part. some passages, it must be allowed, are judicious and well written, but make not sufficient compensation for so much spleen and ill humour. never was any biographer more sparing of his praise, or more abundant in his censures. he seemingly delights more in exposing blemishes, than in recommending beauties; slightly passes over excellencies, enlarges upon imperfections, and not content with his own severe reflections, revives old scandal, and produces large quotations from the forgotten works of former criticks. his reputation was so high in the republick of letters, that it wanted not to be raised upon the ruins of others. but these _essays_, instead of raising a higher idea than was before entertained of his understanding, have certainly given the world a worse opinion of his temper.--the bishop was therefore the more surprized and concerned for his townsman, for _he respected him not only for his genius and learning, but valued him much more for the more amiable part of his character, his humanity and charity, his morality and religion.'_ the last sentence we may consider as the general and permanent opinion of bishop newton; the remarks which precede it must, by all who have read johnson's admirable work, be imputed to the disgust and peevishness of old age. i wish they had not appeared, and that dr. johnson had not been provoked by them to express himself, not in respectful terms, of a prelate, whose labours were certainly of considerable advantage both to literature and religion. boswell. [ ] newton was born jan. , , and was made bishop in . in his _account of his own life_ (p. ) he says:--'he was no great gainer by his preferment; for he was obliged to give up the prebend of westminster, the precentorship of york, the lecturership of st. george's, hanover square, and the _genteel office of sub-almoner_.' he died in . his _works_ were published in . gibbon, defending himself against an attack by newton, says (_misc. works_, l. l):--'the old man should not have indulged his zeal in a false and feeble charge against the historian, who,' &c. [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides,_ rd ed. p. [oct. ]. boswell. see _ante_, ii. . [ ] the rev. mr. agutter [_post,_ under dec. ] has favoured me with a note of a dialogue between mr. john henderson [_post,_ june ] and dr. johnson on this topick, as related by mr. henderson, and it is evidently so authentick that i shall here insert it:--henderson. 'what do you think, sir, of william law?' johnson. 'william law, sir, wrote the best piece of parenetick divinity; but william law was no reasoner.' henderson. 'jeremy collier, sir?' johnson. 'jeremy collier fought without a rival, and therefore could not claim the victory.' mr. henderson mentioned kenn and kettlewell; but some objections were made: at last he said, 'but, sir, what do you think of leslie?' johnson. 'charles leslie i had forgotten. leslie _was_ a reasoner, and _a reasoner who was not to be reasoned against.'_ boswell. for the effect of law's 'parenetick divinity' on johnson, see _ante_, i. . 'i am surprised,' writes macaulay, 'that johnson should have pronounced law no reasoner. law did indeed fall into great errors; but they were errors against which logic affords no security. in mere dialectical skill he had very few superiors.' macaulay's _england_, ed. , v. , note. jeremy collier's attack on the play-writers johnson describes in his _life of congreve_ (_works_, viii. ), and continues:--'nothing now remained for the poets but to resist or fly. dryden's conscience, or his prudence, angry as he was, withheld him from the conflict: congreve and vanbrugh attempted answers.' of leslie, lord bolingbroke thus writes (_works_, in. ):--'let neither the polemical skill of leslie, nor the antique erudition of bedford, persuade us to put on again those old shackles of false law, false reason, and false gospel, which were forged before the revolution, and broken to pieces by it.' leslie is described by macaulay, _history of england_, v. . [ ] burnet (_history of his own time_, ed. , iv. ) in speaks of hickes and brett as being both in the church, but as shewing 'an inclination towards popery.' hickes, he says, was at the head of the jacobite party. see boswell's _hebrides_, oct. . [ ] 'only five of the seven were non-jurors; and anybody but boswell would have known that a man may resist arbitrary power, and yet not be a good reasoner. nay, the resistance which sancroft and the other nonjuring bishops offered to arbitrary power, while they continued to hold the doctrine of non-resistance, is the most decisive proof that they were incapable of reasoning.' macaulay's _england_, ed. , v. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , for johnson's estimate of the nonjurors, and i. for his jacobitism. [ ] savage's _works_, ed. , ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see boswell's _hebrides, post_, v. . [ ] i have inserted the stanza as johnson repeated it from memory; but i have since found the poem itself, in _the foundling hospital for wit_, printed at london, . it is as follows:-- 'epigram, _occasioned by a religious dispute at bath_. 'on reason, faith, and mystery high, two wits harangue the table; b----y believes he knows not why. n---- swears 'tis all a fable. peace, coxcombs, peach, and both agree, n----, kiss they empty brother: religion laughs at foes like thee, and dreads a friend like t'other.' boswell. the disputants are supposed to have been beau nash and bentley, the son of the doctor, and the friend of walpole. croker. john wesley in his _journal_, i. , tells how he once silences nash. [ ] see ante, ii. . [ ] waller, in his _divine poesie_, canto first, has the same thought finely expressed:-- 'the church triumphant, and the church below, in songs of praise their present union show; their joys are full; our expectation long, in life we differ, but we join in song; angels and we assisted by this art, may sing together, though we dwell apart.' boswell. [ ] see boswell's _hebrides_, post, v. . [ ] in the original, _flee_. [ ] the sermon thus opens:--'that there are angels and spirits good and bad; that at the head of these last there is one more considerable and malignant than the rest, who, in the form, or under the name of a _serpent_, was deeply concerned in the fall of man, and whose _head_, as the prophetick language is, the son of man was one day to _bruise_; that this evil spirit, though that prophecy be in part completed, has not yet received his death's wound, but is still permitted, for ends unsearchable to us, and in ways which we cannot particularly explain, to have a certain degree of power in this world hostile to its virtue and happiness, and sometimes exerted with too much success; all this is so clear from scripture, that no believer, unless he be first of all _spoiled by philosophy and vain deceit [colossians_, ii. ], can possibly entertain a doubt of it.' having treated of _possessions_, his lordship says, 'as i have no authority to affirm that there _are_ now any such, so neither may i presume to say with confidence, that there are _not_ any.' 'but then with regard to the influence of evil spirits at this day upon the souls of men, i shall take leave to be a great deal more peremptory.--(then, having stated the various proofs, he adds,) all this, i say, is so manifest to every one who reads the scriptures, that, if we respect their authority, the question concerning the reality of the demoniack influence upon the minds of men is clearly determined.' let it be remembered, that these are not the words of an antiquated or obscure enthusiast, but of a learned and polite prelate now alive; and were spoken, not to a vulgar congregation, but to the honourable society of lincoln's-inn. his lordship in this sermon explains the words, 'deliver us from evil,' in the lord's prayer, as signifying a request to be protected from 'the evil one,' that is the devil. this is well illustrated in a short but excellent commentary by my late worthy friend, the reverend dr. lort, of whom it may truly be said, _multis ille bonis flebilis occidit_. it is remarkable that waller, in his _reflections on the several petitions, in that sacred form of devotion_, has understood this in the same sense;-- 'guard us from all temptations of the foe.' boswell. dr. lort is often mentioned in horace walpole's _letters_. multis ille _quidem_ flebilis occidit,' comes from horace, _odes_, i. xxiv. , translated by francis,-- how did the good, the virtuous mourn.' for dr. hurd see _ante_, p. . [ ] there is a curious anecdote of this physician in _gent. mag._ , p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . he may have taken the more to fox, as he had taken to beauclerk (_ante_, i. ), on account of his descent from charles ii. fox was the great-great-grandson of that king. his christian names recall his stuart ancestry. [ ] horace walpole wrote on april (_letters_, viii. ):--'in truth mr. fox has all the popularity in westminster; and, indeed, is so amiable and winning that, could he have stood in person all over england, i question whether he would not have carried the parliament.' hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) in the same month wrote:--'unluckily for my principles i met fox canvassing the other day, and he looked so sensible and agreeable, that if i had not turned my eyes another way, i believe it would have been all over with me.' see _ante_, p. . [ ] dr. john radcliffe, who died in , left by his will, among other great benefactions to the university of oxford, '£ yearly to two persons, when they are masters of arts and entered on the physic-line, for their maintenance for the space of ten years; the half of which time at least they are to travel in parts beyond sea for their better improvement.' _radcliffe's life and will_, p. . pope mentions them in his _imitations of horace, epistles_, ii. i. :-- 'e'en radcliffe's doctors travel first to france, nor dare to practise till they've learned to dance.' [ ] what risks were run even by inoculation is shewn in two of dr. warton's letters. he wrote to his brother:--'this moment the dear children have all been inoculated, never persons behaved better, no whimpering at all, i hope in god for success, but cannot avoid being in much anxiety.' a few days later he wrote:--'you may imagine i never passed such a day as this in my life! grieved to death myself for the loss of so sweet a child, but forced to stifle my feelings as much as possible for the sake of my poor wife. she does not, however, hit on, or dwell on, that most cutting circumstance of all, poor nanny's dying, as it were by our own means, tho' well intended indeed.' wooll's _warton_, i. . dr. franklin (_memoirs_, i. ), on the other hand, bitterly regretted that he had not had a child inoculated, whom he lost by small-pox. [ ] see _post_, before nov. , and under dec. , . [ ] 'i am the vilest of sinners and the worst of men.' taylor's _works_ (ed. ), iii. . 'the best men deserve not eternal life, and i who am the worst may have it given me.' _ib_. p. --'he that hath lived worst, even i.' _ib_. vii. . 'behold me the meanest of thy creatures.' _ib_. p. . [ ] 'you may fairly look upon yourself to be the greatest sinner that you know in the world. first, because you know more of the folly of your own heart than you do of other people's; and can charge yourself with various sins that you only know of yourself, and cannot be sure that other people are guilty of them.' law's _serious call_, chap. . [ ] _timothy_, i. . [ ] see _post_, v. , note . [ ] 'be careful thou dost not speak a lie in thy prayers, which though not observed is frequently practised by careless persons, especially in the forms of confession, affirming things which they have not thought, professing sorrow which is not, making a vow they mean not.' taylor's _works_, ed. , vii. . [ ] reynolds wrote:--'as in johnson's writings not a line can be found which a saint would wish to blot, so in his life he would never suffer the least immorality or indecency of conversation, [or anything] contrary to virtue or piety to proceed without a severe check, which no elevation of rank exempted them from.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] no doubt mr. langton. [ ] dr. sheridan tells how swift overheard a captain hamilton say to a gentleman at whose house he had arrived 'that he was very sorry he had chosen that time for his visit. "why so?" "because i hear dean swift is with you. he is a great scholar, a wit; a plain country squire will have but a bad time of it in his company, and i don't like to be laughed at." swift then stepped up and said, "pray, captain hamilton, do you know how to say _yes_ or _no_ properly?" "yes, i think i have understanding enough for that." "then give me your hand--depend upon it, you and i will agree very well."' 'the captain told me,' continues sheridan, 'that he never passed two months so pleasantly in his life.' swift's _works_, ed. , ii. . [ ] gibbon wrote on feb. , (_misc. works_, ii. ):--'to day the house of commons was employed in a very odd way. tommy townshend moved that the sermon of dr. nowell, who preached before the house on the th of january (_id est_, before the speaker and four members), should be burnt by the common hangman, as containing arbitrary, tory, high-flown doctrines. the house was nearly agreeing to the motion, till they recollected that they had already thanked the preacher for his excellent discourse, and ordered it to be printed.' [ ] 'although it be not _shined_ upon.' _hudibras_, iii. , . [ ] according to mr. croker, this was the rev. henry bate, of the _morning post_, who in took the name of dudley, was created a baronet in , and died in . horace walpole wrote on nov. , (_letters_, vi. l):--'yesterday i heard drums and trumpets in piccadilly: i looked out of the window and saw a procession with streamers flying. at first i thought it a press-gang, but seeing the corps so well-drest, like hussars, in yellow with blue waistcoats and breeches, and high caps, i concluded it was some new body of our allies, or a regiment newly raised, and with new regimentals for distinction. i was not totally mistaken, for the colonel is _a new ally_. in short, this was a procession set forth by mr. bate, lord lyttelton's chaplain, and author of the old _morning post_, and meant as an appeal to the town against his antagonist, the new one.' in june, , bate was sentenced to a year's imprisonment 'for an atrocious libel on the duke of richmond. he was the worst of all the scandalous libellers that had appeared both on private persons as well as public. his life was dissolute, and he had fought more than one duel. yet lord sandwich had procured for him a good crown living, and he was believed to be pensioned by the court.' walpole's _journal of the reign of george iii_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] three days earlier, in the debate on the westminster scrutiny, fox accused 'a person of great rank in this house'--pitt i believe--'of adding pertness and personal contumely to every species of rash and inconsiderate violence.' _parl. hist_. xxiv. . pitt, in reply, classed fox among 'political apostates,' _ib_. p. . burke, the same evening, 'sat down saying, "he little minded the ill-treatment of a parcel of boys."' when he was called to order, he said:--'when he used the term "a parcel of boys," he meant to apply it to the ministry, who, he conceived, were insulting him with their triumph; a triumph which grey hairs ought to be allowed the privilege of expressing displeasure at, when it was founded on the rash exultation of mere boys.' _ib_. p. . pitt, prime-minister though he was, in the spring of the same year, was called to order by the speaker, for charging a member with using 'language the most false, the most malicious, and the most slanderous.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _epistles to mr. pope_, ii. . [ ] see an account of him, in a sermon by the reverend mr. agutter. boswell. this sermon was published in . in hannah more's _memoirs_ (i. ), henderson is described as 'a mixture of great sense, which discovered uncommon parts and learning, with a tincture of nonsense of the most extravagant kind. he believes in witches and apparitions, as well as in judicial astronomy.' mrs. kennicott writes (_ib_. p. ):--'i think if dr. johnson had the shaking him about, he would shake out his nonsense, and set his sense a-working. 'he never got out into the world, says dr. hall, the master of pembroke college, having died in college in . [ ] this was the second lord lyttelton, commonly known as 'the wicked lord lyttelton.' fox described him to rogers as 'a very bad man--downright wicked.' rogers's _table talk_, p. . he died nov. , . horace walpole (_letters_, vii. ) wrote to mason on dec. of that year:--'if you can send us any stories of ghosts out of the north, they will be very welcome. lord lyttelton's vision has revived the taste; though it seems a little odd that an apparition should despair of being able to get access to his lordship's bed in the shape of a young woman, without being forced to use the disguise of a robin-red-breast.' in the _gent. mag._ , i. , and , ii. , accounts are given of this vision. in the latter account it is said that 'he saw a bird fluttering, and afterwards a woman appeared in white apparel, and said, "prepare to die; you will not exist three days."' mrs. piozzi also wrote a full account of it. hayward's _piozzi_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] 'if he who considers himself as suspended over the abyss of eternal perdition only by the thread of life, which must soon part by its own weakness, and which the wing of every minute may divide, can cast his eyes round him without shuddering with horror, or panting for security; what can he judge of himself, but that he is not yet awakened to sufficient conviction? &c.' _the rambler_, no. . in a blank leaf in the book in which johnson kept his diary of his journey in wales is written in his own hand, 'faith in some proportion to fear.' duppa's johnson's _diary of a journey &c_., p. . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] he wrote to mrs. thrale on march :--'write to me no more about _dying with a grace_; when you feel what i have felt in approaching eternity--in fear of soon hearing the sentence of which there is no revocation, you will know the folly.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . of him it might have been said in cowper's words:-- 'scripture is still a trumpet to his fears.' _the task: the winter morning walk_, . . see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the reverend mr. ralph churton, fellow of brazen-nose college, oxford, has favoured me with the following remarks on my work, which he is pleased to say, 'i have hitherto extolled, and cordially approve.' 'the chief part of what i have to observe is contained in the following transcript from a letter to a friend, which, with his concurrence, i copied for this purpose; and, whatever may be the merit or justness of the remarks, you may be sure that being written to a most intimate friend, without any intention that they ever should go further, they are the genuine and undisguised sentiments of the writer:-- 'jan. , . 'last week, i was reading the second volume of boswell's _johnson_, with increasing esteem for the worthy authour, and increasing veneration of the wonderful and excellent man who is the subject of it. the writer throws in, now and then, very properly some serious religious reflections; but there is one remark, in my mind an obvious and just one, which i think he has not made, that johnson's "morbid melancholy," and constitutional infirmities, were intended by providence, like st. paul's thorn in the flesh, to check intellectual conceit and arrogance; which the consciousness of his extraordinary talents, awake as he was to the voice of praise, might otherwise have generated in a very culpable degree. another observation strikes me, that in consequence of the same natural indisposition, and habitual sickliness, (for he says he scarcely passed one day without pain after his twentieth year,) he considered and represented human life, as a scene of much greater misery than is generally experienced. there may be persons bowed down with affliction all their days; and there are those, no doubt, whose iniquities rob them of rest; but neither calamities nor crimes, i hope and believe, do so much and so generally abound, as to justify the dark picture of life which johnson's imagination designed, and his strong pencil delineated. this i am sure, the colouring is far too gloomy for what i have experienced, though as far as i can remember, i have had more sickness (i do not say more severe, but only more in quantity,) than falls to the lot of most people. but then daily debility and occasional sickness were far overbalanced by intervenient days, and, perhaps, weeks void of pain, and overflowing with comfort. so that in short, to return to the subject, human life, as far as i can perceive from experience or observation, is not that state of constant wretchedness which johnson always insisted it was; which misrepresentation, (for such it surely is,) his biographer has not corrected, i suppose, because, unhappily, he has himself a large portion of melancholy in his constitution, and fancied the portrait a faithful copy of life.' the learned writer then proceeds thus in his letter to me:-- 'i have conversed with some sensible men on this subject, who all seem to entertain the same sentiments respecting life with those which are expressed or implied in the foregoing paragraph. it might be added that as the representation here spoken of, appears not consistent with fact and experience, so neither does it seem to be countenanced by scripture. there is, perhaps, no part of the sacred volume which at first sight promises so much to lend its sanction to these dark and desponding notions as the book of _ecclesiastes_, which so often, and so emphatically, proclaims the vanity of things sublunary. but the design of this whole book, (as it has been justly observed,) is not to put us out of conceit with life, but to cure our vain expectations of a compleat and perfect happiness in this world; to convince us, that there is no such thing to be found in mere external enjoyments;--and to teach us to seek for happiness in the practice of virtue, in the knowledge and love of god, and in the hopes of a better life. for this is the application of all; _let us hear_, &c. xii. . not only his duty, but his happiness too; _for_ god, &c. ver. .--see _sherlock on providence_, p. . 'the new testament tells us, indeed, and most truly, that "sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof;" and, therefore, wisely forbids us to increase our burden by forebodings of sorrows; but i think it no where says that even our ordinary afflictions are not consistent with a very considerable degree of positive comfort and satisfaction. and, accordingly, one whose sufferings as well as merits were conspicuous, assures us, that in proportion "as the sufferings of christ abounded in them, so their consolation also abounded by christ." _cor_. i. . it is needless to cite, as indeed it would be endless even to refer to, the multitude of passages in both testaments holding out, in the strongest language, promises of blessings, even in this world, to the faithful servants of god. i will only refer to _st. luke_, xviii. , , and _tim_. iv. . 'upon the whole, setting aside instances of great and lasting bodily pain, of minds peculiarly oppressed by melancholy, and of severe temporal calamities, from which extraordinary cases we surely should not form our estimate of the general tenour and complexion of life; excluding these from the account, i am convinced that as well the gracious constitution of things which providence has ordained, as the declarations of scripture and the actual experience of individuals, authorize the sincere christian to hope that his humble and constant endeavours to perform his duty, checquered as the best life is with many failings, will be crowned with a greater degree of present peace, serenity, and comfort, than he could reasonably permit himself to expect, if he measured his views and judged of life from the opinion of dr. johnson, often and energetically expressed in the memoirs of him, without any animadversion or censure by his ingenious biographer. if he himself, upon reviewing the subject, shall see the matter in this light, he will, in an octavo edition, which is eagerly expected, make such additional remarks or correction as he shall judge fit; lest the impressions which these discouraging passages may leave on the reader's mind, should in any degree hinder what otherwise the whole spirit and energy of the work tends, and, i hope, successfully, to promote,--pure morality and true religion.' though i have, in some degree, obviated any reflections against my illustrious friend's dark views of life, when considering, in the course of this work, his _rambler_ [_ante_, i. ] and his _rasselas_ [_ante_, i. ], i am obliged to mr. churton for complying with my request of his permission to insert his remarks, being conscious of the weight of what he judiciously suggests as to the melancholy in my own constitution. his more pleasing views of life, i hope, are just. _valeant quantum valere possunt_. mr. churton concludes his letter to me in these words:--'once, and only once, i had the satisfaction of seeing your illustrious friend; and as i feel a particular regard for all whom he distinguished with his esteem and friendship, so i derive much pleasure from reflecting that i once beheld, though but transiently near our college gate, one whose works will for ever delight and improve the world, who was a sincere and zealous son of the church of england, an honour to his country, and an ornament to human nature.' his letter was accompanied with a present from himself of his _sermons at the bampton lecture_, and from his friend, dr. townson, the venerable rector of malpas, in cheshire, of his _discourses on the gospels_, together with the following extract of a letter from that excellent person, who is now gone to receive the reward of his labours:--'mr. boswell is not only very entertaining in his works, but they are so replete with moral and religious sentiments, without an instance, as far as i know, of a contrary tendency, that i cannot help having a great esteem for him; and if you think such a trifle as a copy of the _discourses, ex dono authoris_, would be acceptable to him, i should be happy to give him this small testimony of my regard.' such spontaneous testimonies of approbation from such men, without any personal acquaintance with me, are truly valuable and encouraging. boswell. [ ] 'tout se plaint, tout gémit en cherchant le bien-etre; nul ne voudrait mourir, nul ne voudrait renaitre.' voltaire, _le désastre de lisbonne. works_, ed. , x. . 'johnson said that, for his part, he never passed that week in his life which he would wish to repeat, were an angel to make the proposal to him.' _ante_, ii. . yet dr. franklin, whose life overlapped johnson's at both ends, said:-'i should have no objection to go over the same life from its beginning to the end, requesting only the advantage authors have of correcting in a second edition the faults of its first. so would i also wish to change some incidents of it for others more favourable notwithstanding, if this condition was denied, i should still accept the offer of re-commencing the same life.' franklin's _memoirs_, i. . [ ] mackintosh thus sums up this question:--'the truth is, that endless fallacies must arise from the attempt to appreciate by retrospect human life, of which the enjoyments depend on hope.' _life of mackintosh_, ii. . see _ante_, ii. . [ ] in the lines on levett. _ante_, p. . [ ] aurengzebe, act iv. sc. . boswell. according to dr. maxwell (_ante_, ii. ), johnson frequently quoted the fourth couplet of these lines. boswell does not give the last-- 'i'm tired with waiting for this chemic gold which fools us young, and beggars us when old.' [ ] johnson, speaking of the companions of his college days, said:-- 'it was bitterness which they mistook for frolick.' _ante_, i. . [ ] '--to thee i call but with no friendly voice, and add thy name o sun, to tell thee how i hate thy beams.' milton's _paradise lost_, iv. . [ ] yet there is no doubt that a man may appear very gay in company who is sad at heart. his merriment is like the sound of drums and trumpets in a battle, to drown the groans of the wounded and dying. boswell. [ ] mme. d'arblay (_memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. ) tells how johnson was one day invited to her father's house at the request of mr. greville, 'the finest gentleman about town,' as she earlier described him (_ib_. i. ), who desired to make his acquaintance. this 'superb' gentleman was afraid to begin to speak. 'assuming his most supercilious air of distant superiority he planted himself, immovable as a noble statue, upon the hearth, as if a stranger to the whole set.' johnson, who 'never spoke till he was spoken to' (_ante_, in. )--this habit the burneys did not as yet know--'became completely absorbed in silent rumination; very unexpectedly, however, he shewed himself alive to what surrounded him, by one of those singular starts of vision, that made him seem at times, though purblind to things in common, gifted with an eye of instinct for espying any action that he thought merited reprehension; for all at once, looking fixedly on mr. greville, who without much self-denial, the night being very cold, kept his station before the chimney-piece, he exclaimed:--"if it were not for depriving the ladies of the fire, i should like to stand upon the hearth myself." a smile gleamed upon every face at this pointed speech. mr. greville tried to smile himself, though faintly and scoffingly. he tried also to hold his post; and though for two or three minutes he disdained to move, the awkwardness of a general pause impelled him ere long to glide back to his chair; but he rang the bell with force as he passed it to order his carriage.' [ ] page . boswell. [ ] on this same day miss adams wrote to a friend:--'dr. johnson, tho' not in good health, is in general very talkative and infinitely agreeable and entertaining.' _pemb. coll. mss_. [ ] johnson said 'milton was a _phidias_, &c.' _ante_, p. , note . in his _life of milton_ (_works, vii. ) he writes:--'milton never learnt the art of doing little things with grace; he overlooked the milder excellence of suavity and softness; he was a _lion_ that had no skill _in dandling the kid_.' ['sporting the lion ramped, and in his paw dandled the kid.' _paradise lost_, iv. .] [ ] cardinal newman (_history of my religious opinions_, ed. , p. ) remarks on this:--'as to johnson's case of a murderer asking you which way a man had gone, i should have anticipated that, had such a difficulty happened to him, his first act would have been to knock the man down, and to call out for the police; and next, if he was worsted in the conflict, he would not have given the ruffian the information he asked, at whatever risk to himself. i think he would have let himself be killed first. i do not think that he would have told a lie.' [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] book ii. . . [ ] the annotator calls them 'amiable verses.' boswell. the annotators of the _dunciad_ were pope himself and dr. arbuthnot. johnson's _works_, viii. . [ ] boswell was at this time corresponding with miss seward. see _post_, june . [ ] by john dyer. _ante_, ii. . [ ] lewis's verses addressed to pope were first published in a collection of pieces on occasion of _the dunciad_, vo., . they do not appear in lewis's own _miscellany_, printed in .--_grongar hill_ was first printed in savage's _miscellanies_ as an ode, and was _reprinted_ in the same year in lewis's _miscellany_, in the form it now bears. in his _miscellanies_, , the beautiful poem,--'away, let nought to love displeasing,'--reprinted in percy's _reliques_, vol. i. book iii. no. , first appeared. malone. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , and ii. . [ ] captain cook's third voyage. the first two volumes by captain cook; the last by captain king. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , , ; iii. . [ ] '--quae mollissima fandi tempora.' '--time wherein the word may softliest be said.' morris. virgil, _aeneids_, iv. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] boswell began to eat dinners in the inner temple so early as . _ante_, ii. , note . he was not called till hilary term, . rogers's _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] mr. (afterwards sir) william jones wrote two years earlier (_life_, p. ):--'whether it be a wise part to live uncomfortably in order to die wealthy, is another question; but this i know by experience, and have heard old practitioners make the same observation, that a lawyer who is in earnest must be chained to his chambers and the bar for ten or twelve years together.' [ ] johnson's _prologue at the opening of drury lane theatre. works, _ i. . [ ] according to mr. seward, who published this account in his _anecdotes,_ ii. , it was mr. langton's great-grandfather who drew it up. [ ] 'my lord said that his rule for his, health was to be temperate and keep himself warm. he never made breakfasts, but used in the morning to drink a glass of some sort of ale. that he went to bed at nine, and rose between six and seven, allowing himself a good refreshment for his sleep. that the law will admit of no rival, nothing to go even with it; but that sometimes one may for diversion read in the latin historians of england, hoveden and matthew paris, &c. but after it is conquered, it will admit of other studies. he said, a little law, a good tongue, and a good memory, would fit a man for the chancery.' seward's _anecdotes_, ii. . [ ] wednesday was the th [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] _letters to mrs. thrale_, vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante/_, i. . [ ] the recommendation in this list of so many histories little agrees 'with the fierce and boisterous contempt of ignorance' with which, according to lord macaulay, johnson spoke of history. macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] northcote's account of reynolds's table suits the description of this 'gentleman's mode of living.' 'a table prepared for seven or eight was often compelled to contain fifteen or sixteen.' there was a 'deficiency of knives and forks, plates and glasses. the attendance was in the same style.' there were 'two or three undisciplined domestics. the host left every one at perfect liberty to scramble for himself.' 'rags' is certainly a strong word to apply to any of the company; but then strong words were what johnson used. northcote mentions 'the mixture of company.' northcote's _reynolds_, ii. - . see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] the mayor of windsor. rogers's _boswelliana_, p. . [ ] the passage occurs in brooke's _earl of essex_( ) at the close of the first act, where queen elizabeth says: 'i shall henceforth seek for other lights to truth; for righteous monarchs, justly to judge, with their own eyes should see; _to rule o'er freemen should themselves be free_.' _notes and queries_, th s. viii. . the play was acted at drury lane theatre, old mr. sheridan taking the chief part. he it was who, in admiration, repeated the passage to johnson which provoked the parody. murphy's _garrick_, p. . [ ] 'letters to mrs. thrale, vol. ii. p. . boswell. in a second letter (_ib_. p. ) he says:--'cator has a rough, manly independent understanding, and does not spoil it by complaisance.' miss burney accuses him of emptiness, verbosity and pomposity, all of which she describes in an amusing manner. mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] 'all general reflections upon nations and societies are the trite, thread-bare jokes of those who set up for wit without having any, and so have recourse to common-place.' chesterfield's _letters_, i. . [ ] see vol. ii. p. . boswell [ ] '"that may be so," replied the lady, "for ought i know, but they are above my comprehension." "i an't obliged to find you comprehension, madam, curse me," cried he,' _roderick random_, ch. . '"i protest," cried moses, "i don't rightly comprehend the force of your reasoning." "o, sir," cried the squire, "i am your most humble servant, i find you want me to furnish you with argument and intellects too."' _vicar of wakefield_, ch. . [ ] in the first edition, 'as the honourable horace walpole is often called;' in the second edition, 'as horace, now earl of orford, &c.' walpole succeeded to the title in dec. . in answer to congratulations he wrote (_letters_, ix. ):--'what has happened destroys my tranquillity.... surely no man of seventy-four, unless superannuated, can have the smallest pleasure in sitting at home in his own room, as i almost always do, and being called by a new name.' he died march , . [ ] in _the rambler_, no. , a character of a virtuoso is given which in many ways suits walpole:--'it is never without grief that i find a man capable of ratiocination or invention enlisting himself in this secondary class of learning; for when he has once discovered a method of gratifying his desire of eminence by expense rather than by labour, and known the sweets of a life blest at once with the ease of idleness and the reputation of knowledge, he will not easily be brought to undergo again the toil of thinking, or leave his toys and trinkets for arguments and principles.' [ ] walpole says:--'i do not think i ever was in a room with johnson six times in my days.' _letters_, ix. . 'the first time, i think, was at the royal academy. sir joshua said, "let me present dr. goldsmith to you;" he did. "now i will present dr. johnson to you." "no," said i, "sir joshua; for dr. goldsmith, pass--but you shall not present dr. johnson to me."' _journal &c. of miss berry_, i. . in his _journal of the reign of george iii_, he speaks of johnson as 'one of the venal champions of the court,' 'a renegade' (i. ); 'a brute,' 'an old decrepit hireling' (_ib._ p. ); and as 'one of the subordinate crew whom to name is to stigmatize' (_ib._ ii. ). in his _memoirs of the reign of george iii_, iv. , he says:--'with a lumber of learning and some strong parts johnson was an odious and mean character. his manners were sordid, supercilious, and brutal; his style ridiculously bombastic and vicious, and, in one word, with all the pedantry he had all the gigantic littleness of a country schoolmaster.' [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] on may , , walpole wrote of boswell's _life of johnson (letters_ ix. l ):--'i expected amongst the excommunicated to find myself, but am very gently treated. i never would be in the least acquainted with johnson; or, as boswell calls it, i had not a just value for him; which the biographer imputes to my resentment for the doctor's putting bad arguments (purposely out of jacobitism) into the speeches which he wrote fifty years ago for my father in the _gentleman's magazine_; which i did not read then, or ever knew johnson wrote till johnson died.' johnson said of these debates:--'i saved appearances tolerably well; but i took care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it.' _ante_, i. . 'lord holland said that whenever boswell came into a company where horace walpole was, walpole would throw back his head, purse up his mouth very significantly, and not speak a word while boswell remained.' _autobiographical recollections of c. r. leslie_, i. . walpole (_letters_, viii. ) says:--'boswell, that quintessence of busybodies, called on me last week, and was let in, which he should not have been, could i have foreseen it. after tapping many topics, to which i made as dry answers as an unbribed oracle, he vented his errand.' [ ] walpole wrote (_letters_, vi. ):--'if _the school for wives_ and _the christmas tale_ were laid to me, so was _the heroic espistle_. i could certainly have written the two former, but not the latter.' see _ante_, iv. . [ ] the title given by bishop pearson to his collection of hales's writings is the _golden remains of the ever memorable john hales of eaton college, &c_. it was published in . [ ] i _henry iv_, act ii. sc. . 'sir james mackintosh remembers that, while spending the christmas of at beaconsfield, mr. burke said to him, 'johnson showed more powers of mind in company than in his writings; but he argued only for victory; and when he had neither a paradox to defend, nor an antagonist to crush, he would preface his assent with "why, no, sir."' croker. croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] search then the ruling passion: there alone the wild are constant, and the cunning known; the fool consistent, and the false sincere; priests, princes, women, no dissemblers here.' pope, _moral essays_, i. . 'the publick pleasures of far the greater part of mankind are counterfeit.' _the idler_, no. . [ ] _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] boswell refers to cicero's _treatise on famous orators_. [ ] boswell here falls into a mistake. about harvest-time in , there were corn-riots owing to the dearness of bread. by the act of the th of charles ii, corn, when under a certain price, might be legally exported. on sept. , , before this price had been reached, the crown issued a proclamation to prohibit the exportation of grain. when parliament met in november, a bill of indemnity was brought in for those concerned in the late embargo. 'the necessity of the embargo was universally allowed;' it was the exercise by the crown of a power of dispensing with the laws that was attacked. some of the ministers who, out of office, 'had set up as the patrons of liberty,' were made the object 'of many sarcasms on the beaten subject of occasional patriotism.' _ann. reg._ x. - , and dicey's _law of the constitution_, p. . [ ] _st. mark_, ii. . [ ] _anecdotes_, p. . boswell. the passage is from the _speech on conciliation with the colonies_, march , . payne's _burke_, i. . the image of the angel and lord bathurst was thus, according to mrs. piozzi, parodied by johnson:--'suppose, mr. speaker, that to wharton, or to marlborough, or to any of the eminent whigs of the last age, the devil had, not with great impropriety, consented to appear.' see _ante_, iii. , where johnson said 'the first whig was the devil.' [ ] boswell was stung by what mrs. piozzi wrote when recording this parody. she said that she had begged johnson's leave to write it down directly. 'a trick,' she continues, 'which i have seen played on common occasions of sitting steadily [? stealthily] down at the other end of the room to write at the moment what should be said in company, either by dr. johnson or to him, i never practised myself, nor approved of in another. there is something so ill-bred, and so inclining to treachery in this conduct, that, were it commonly adopted, all confidence would soon be exiled from society.' see _post_, under june , , where boswell refers to this passage. [ ] 'who'er offends, at some unlucky time slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme.' pope, _imitations of horace_, satires, i. . [ ] on march , , in a debate on the licentiousness of the press, townshend joined together johnson and shebbeare. burke, who followed him, said nothing about johnson. fitzherbert, speaking of johnson as 'my friend,' defended him as 'a pattern of morality.' _cavendish debates_, i. . on feb. , , when fox drew attention to a 'vile libel' signed _a south briton_, townshend said 'dr. shebbeare and dr. johnson have been pensioned, but this wretched south briton is to be prosecuted.' it was fox, and not burke, who on this occasion defended johnson. _parl. hist._ xvii. . as goldsmith was writing _retaliation_ at the very time that this second attack was made, it is very likely that it was the occasion, of the change in the line. [ ] in the original _yet_. [ ] 'sis pecore et multa dives tellure licebit, tibique pactolus fluat.' 'though wide thy land extends, and large thy fold, though rivers roll for thee their purest gold.' francis. horace, _epodes_, xv. . [ ] see macaulay's _essays_, ed. , i. , for macaulay's appropriation and amplification of this passage. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] mr. croker suggests the rev. martin sherlock, an irish clergyman, 'who published in his own travels under the title of _letters of an english traveller translated from the french._' croker's _boswell, p. . mason writes of him as 'mister, or monsieur, or signor sherlock, for i am told he is both [sic] french, english, and italian in print.' walpole's _letters_, viii. . i think, however, that dr. thomas campbell is meant. his _philosophical survey of the south of ireland_ boswell calls 'a very entertaining book, which has, however, one fault;--that it assumes the fictitious character of an englishman.' _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. . [ ] this anecdote is not in the first two editions. [ ] see _ante_, in. . [ ] 'i have heard,' says hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'that in many instances, and in some with tears in his eyes, he has apologised to those whom he had offended by contradiction or roughness of behaviour.' see _ante_, ii. , and , note . [ ] johnson (_works_, viii. ) describes savage's 'superstitious regard to the correction of his sheets ... the intrusion or omission of a comma was sufficient to discompose him, and he would lament an errour of a single letter as a heavy calamity.' [ ] compositor in the printing-house means, the person who adjusts the types in the order in which they are to stand for printing; and arranges what is called the _form_, from which an impression is taken. boswell. [ ] this circumstance therefore alluded to in mr. courtenay's _poetical character_ of him is strictly true. my informer was mrs. desmoulins, who lived many years in dr. johnson's house. boswell. the following are mr. courtenay's lines:-- 'soft-eyed compassion with a look benign, his fervent vows he offered at thy shrine; to guilt, to woe, the sacred debt was paid, and helpless females blessed his pious aid; snatched from disease, and want's abandoned crew, despair and anguish from their victims flew; hope's soothing balm into their bosoms stole, and tears of penitence restored the soul.' [ ] the _cross readings_ were said to be formed 'by reading two columns of a newspaper together onwards,' whereby 'the strangest connections were brought about,' such as:-- 'this morning the right hon. the speaker was convicted of keeping a disorderly house. whereas the said barn was set on fire by an incendiary letter dropped early in the morning. by order of the commissioners for paving an infallible remedy for the stone and gravel. the sword of state was carried before sir john fielding and committed to newgate.' _the new foundling hospital for wit_, i. . according to northcote (_life of reynolds_, i. ), 'dr. goldsmith declared, in the heat of his admiration of these _cross readings_, it would have given him more pleasure to have been the author of them than of all the works he had ever published of his own.' horace walpole (letters, v. ) writes:-- 'have you seen that delightful paper composed out of scraps in the newspapers? i laughed till i cried. i mean the paper that says:-- "this day his majesty will go in great state to fifteen notorious common prostitutes."' [ ] one of these gentlemen was probably mr. musgrave (_ante_, ii. , note ), who, says mrs. piozzi (_anec_. p. ), when 'once he was singularly warm about johnson's writing the lives of our famous prose authors, getting up and entreating him to set about the work immediately, he coldly replied, "sit down, sir."' miss burney says that 'the incense he paid dr. johnson by his solemn manner of listening, by the earnest reverence with which he eyed him, and by a theatric start of admiration every time he spoke, joined to the doctor's utter insensibility to all these tokens, made me find infinite difficulty in keeping my countenance.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . the other gentleman was perhaps dr. wharton. _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] probably dr. beattie. the number of letters in his name agrees with the asterisks given a few lines below. _ante_, iii. , note , and _post_, p. . [ ] johnson, in his _dictionary_, defines _congé d'élire_ as _the king's permission royal to a dean and chapter in time of vacation, to choose a bishop._ when dr. hampden was made bishop of hereford in , the dean resisted the appointment. h. c. robinson records, on the authority of the bishop's secretary (_diary_, iii. ), that 'at the actual confirmation in bow church the scene was quite ludicrous. after the judge had told the opposers that he could not hear them, the citation for opposers to come forward was repeated, at which the people present laughed out, as at a play.' [ ] this has been printed in other publications, 'fall _to the ground_.' but johnson himself gave me the true expression which he had used as above; meaning that the recommendation left as little choice in the one case as the other. boswell. one of the 'other publications is hawkins's edition of johnson's _works_. see in it vol. xi. p. . [ ] they are published in vol. xi. of hawkins's edition of johnson's _works_. , and are often quoted in my notes. it should be remembered that steevens is not trustworthy. see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. iii. [ ] _she stoops to conquer_ was first acted on march , . the king of sardinia had died on feb. . _gent. mag_. , pp. , . [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ) describes how, in , she went to one of mrs. ord's assemblies at a time when 'the mourning for some foreign wilhelmina jaquelina was not over. every human creature was in deep mourning, and i, poor i, all gorgeous in scarlet. even jacobite johnson was in deep mourning.' [ ] in the tenth edition of the _rambler_, published in , the entry is still found:--'milton, mr. john, remarks on his versification.' in like manner we find:--'shakspeare, mr. william, his eminent success in tragi-comedy;' 'spenser, mr. edmund, some imitations of his diction censured;' 'cowley, mr. abraham, a passage in his writing illustrated.' [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) writes:--'the plan for johnson's visiting the continent became so well known, that, as a lady then resident at rome afterwards informed me, his arrival was anxiously expected throughout italy.' [ ] edward lord thurlow. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] in . [ ] 'with lord thurlow, while he was at the bar, johnson was well acquainted. he said to mr. murphy twenty years ago, "thurlow is a man of such vigour of mind that i never knew i was to meet him, but--i was going to tell a falsehood; i was going to say i was afraid of him, and that would not be true, for i was never afraid of any man--but i never knew that i was to meet thurlow, but i knew i had something to encounter."' _monthly review_ for , lxxvi. . murphy, no doubt, was the writer. lord campbell (_lives of the chancellors_, ed. , v. ) quotes from 'the diary of a distinguished political character' an account of a meeting between thurlow and horne tooke, in . 'tooke evidently came forward for a display, and as i considered his powers of conversation as surpassing those of any person i had ever seen (in point of skill and dexterity, and if necessary in _lying_), so i took for granted old grumbling thurlow would be obliged to lower his top-sail to him--but it seemed as if the very _look_ and _voice_ of thurlow scared him out of his senses from the first moment. so tooke tried to recruit himself by wine, and, though not generally a drinker, was very drunk, but all would not do.' [ ] it is strange that sir john hawkins should have related that the application was made by sir joshua reynolds, when he could so easily have been informed of the truth by inquiring of sir joshua. sir john's carelessness to ascertain facts is very remarkable. boswell. [ ] there is something dreadful in the thought of the old man quietly going on with his daily life within a few hundred yards of this shocking scene of slaughter, this 'legal massacre,' to use his own words (_ante_, p. , note ). england had a kind of reign of terror of its own; little thought of at the time or remembered since. twenty-four men were sentenced to death at the old bailey sessions that ended on april . on june nine of these had the sentence commuted; the rest were hanged this day. among these men was not a single murderer. twelve of them had committed burglary, two a street robbery, and one had personated another man's name, with intent to receive his wages. _ann. reg_. xxvii, , and _gent. mag_. liv. , . the _gent. mag_. recording the sentences, remarks:--'convicts under sentence of death in newgate and the gaols throughout the kingdom increase so fast, that, were they all to be executed, england would soon be marked among the nations as the _bloody country_.' in the spring assizes the returns are given for ten towns. there were capital convictions, of which were at winchester. _ib_. . in the summer assizes and at the old bailey sessions for july there were capital convictions. at maidstone a man on being sentenced 'gave three loud cheers, upon which the judge gave strict orders for his being chained to the floor of the dungeon.' _ib_. pp. , . the hangman was to grow busier yet. this increase in the number of capital punishments was attributed by romilly in great part to madan's _thoughts on executive justice_; 'a small tract, in which, by a mistaken application of the maxim "that the certainty of punishment is more efficacious than its severity for the prevention of crimes," he absurdly insisted on the expediency of rigidly enforcing, in every instance, our penal code, sanguinary and barbarous as it was. in , the year before the book was published, there were executed in london only malefactors; in , the year after the book was published, there were executed ; and it was recently after the publication of the book that was exhibited a spectacle unseen in london for a long course of years before, the execution of nearly criminals at a time.' _life of romilly_, i. . madan's tract was published in the winter of - . boswell's fondness for seeing executions is shewn, _ante_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, ii. , ; iii. ; and v. l. [ ] a friend of mine happened to be passing by a _field congregation_ in the environs of london, when a methodist preacher quoted this passage with triumph. boswell. on dec. , , john wesley preached the condemned criminals' sermon to forty-seven who were under sentence of death. he records:--'the power of the lord was eminently present, and most of the prisoners were in tears. a few days after, twenty of them died at once, five of whom died in peace. i could not but greatly approve of the spirit and behaviour of mr. villette, the ordinary; and i rejoiced to hear that it was the same on all similar occasions.' wesley's _journal_, ed. , iv. . [ ] i trust that the city of london, now happily in unison with the court, will have the justice and generosity to obtain preferment for this reverend gentleman, now a worthy old servant of that magnificent corporation. boswell. in like manner, boswell in praised the rev. mr. moore, mr. villette's predecessor. 'mr. moore, the ordinary of newgate, discharged his duty with much earnestness and a fervour for which i and all around me esteemed and loved him. mr. moore seems worthy of his office, which, when justly considered, is a very important one.' _london mag._ , p. . for the quarrel between the city and the court, see _ante_, iii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] knox in _winter evenings_, no. xi. (_works_, ii. ), attacks johnson's biographers for lowering his character by publishing his private conversation. 'biography,' he complains, 'is every day descending from its dignity.' see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] johnson wrote on april :--'i am still very weak, though my appetite is keen and my digestion potent. ... i now think and consult to-day what i shall eat to-morrow. this disease likewise will, i hope, be cured.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . beattie, who dined with johnson on june , wrote:--'wine, i think, would do him good, but he cannot be prevailed on to drink it. he has, however, a voracious appetite for food. i verily believe that on sunday last he ate as much to dinner as i have done in all for these ten days past.' forbes's _beattie_, ed. , p. . it was said that beattie latterly indulged somewhat too much in wine. _ib_. p. . [ ] horace walpole wrote in april (_letters_, ii. ):--'there is come from france a madame bocage who has translated milton: my lord chesterfield prefers the copy to the original; but that is not uncommon for him to do, who is the patron of bad authors and bad actors. she has written a play too, which was damned, and worthy my lord's approbation.' it was this lady who bade her footman blow into the spout of the tea-pot. _ante_, ii. . dr. j. h. burton writes of her in his _life of hume_, ii. :--'the wits must praise her bad poetry if they frequented her house. "elle était d'une figure aimable," says grimm, "elle est bonne femme; elle est riche; elle pouvait fixer chez elle les gens d'esprit et de bonne compagnie, sans les mettre dans l'embarras de lui parler avec peu de sincérité de sa colombiade ou de ses amazones."' [ ] it is the sea round the south pole that she describes in her _elegy_ (not _ode_). the description begins:-- 'while o'er the deep in many a dreadful form, the giant danger howls along the storm, _furling the iron sails with numbed hands, firm on the deck the great adventurer stands;_ round glitt'ring mountains hear the billows rave, and the vast ruin thunder on the wave.' in the _gent. mag._ , p. , were given extracts abusive of johnson from some foolish letters that passed between miss seward and hayley, a poet her equal in feebleness. boswell, in his _corrections and additions to the first edition_ (_ante_, i. ), corrected an error into which he had been led by miss seward (_ante_, i. , note ). she, in the _gent. mag._ for , p. , defended herself and attacked him. his reply is found on p. . he says:--'as my book was to be a _real history_, and not a _novel_, it was necessary to suppress all erroneous particulars, however entertaining.' (_ante_, ii , note .) he continues:--'so far from having any hostile disposition towards this lady, i have, in my _life of dr. johnson_...quoted a compliment paid by him to one of her poetical pieces; and i have withheld his opinion of herself, thinking that she might not like it. i am afraid it has reached her by some other means; and thus we may account for various attacks by her on her venerable townsman since his decease...what are we to think of the scraps of letters between her and mr. hayley, impotently attempting to undermine the noble pedestal on which the publick opinion has placed dr. johnson?' [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iv. . [ ] 'johnson said he had once seen mr. stanhope at dodsley's shop, and was so much struck with his awkward manners and appearance that he could not help asking mr. dodsley who he was.' johnson's _works_, ( ) xi. . [ ] chesterfield was secretary of state from nov. to feb. . his letters to his son extend from to . [ ] foote had taken off lord chesterfield in _the cozeners_. mrs. aircastle trains her son toby in the graces. she says to her husband:--'nothing but grace! i wish you would read some late _posthumous letters_; you would then know the true value of grace.' act ii. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] see a pamphlet entitled _remarks on the characters of the court of queen anne_, included in swift's _works_, ed. , vi. . [ ] carleton, according to the _memoirs_, made his first service in the navy in --seventeen years before the siege of derry. there is no mention of this siege in the book. [ ] 'he had obtained, by his long service, some knowledge of the practic part of an engineer.' preface to the _memoirs_. [ ] nearly pages in bohn's edition. see _ante_, i. , for johnson's rapid reading. [ ] lord mahon (_war of the succession in spain_, appendix, p. ) proves that a captain carleton really served. 'it is not impossible,' he says, 'that the ms. may have been intrusted to de foe for the purpose of correction or revision...the _memoirs_ are most strongly marked with internal proofs of authenticity.' lockhart (_life of scott_, iii. ) says:--'it seems to be now pretty generally believed that carleton's _memoirs_ were among the numberless fabrications of de foe; but in this case (if the fact indeed be so), as in that of his _cavalier_, he no doubt had before him the rude journal of some officer.' dr. burton (_reign of queen anne_ ii. ) says that mss. in the british museum disprove 'the possibility of de foe's authorship.' [ ] lord chesterfield (_letters_, ii. ) writing to his son on nov. , , says of mr. eliot:--'imitate that application of his, which has made him know all thoroughly, and to the bottom. he does not content himself with the surface of knowledge; but works in the mine for it, knowing that it lies deep.' [ ] the houghton collection was sold in by the third earl of orford, to the empress of russia for £ , . (walpole's _letters_, vii. , note .) horace walpole wrote on aug. of that year (_ib_. p. ):--'well! adieu to houghton! about its mad master i shall never trouble myself more. from the moment he came into possession, he has undermined every act of my father that was within his reach, but, having none of that great man's sense or virtues, he could only lay wild hands on lands and houses; and since he has stript houghton of its glory, i do not care a straw what he does with the stone or the acres.' [ ] this museum at alkerington near manchester is described in the _gent. mag_. , p. . a proposal was made in parliament to buy it for the british museum. _ib_. , p. . on july , , a bill enabling lever to dispose of it by lottery passed the house of commons. _ib_. , p. . [ ] johnson defines _intuition_ as _sight of anything; immediate knowledge_; and _sagacity_ as _quickness of scent; acuteness of discovery_. [ ] in the first edition it stands '_a gentleman_' and below instead of mr. ----, mr. ----. in the second edition mr. ---- becomes mr. ----. in the third edition _young_ is added. young mr. burke is probably meant. as it stood in the second edition it might have been thought that edmund burke was the gentleman; the more so as johnson often denied his want of wit. [ ] _hamlet_, act i. sc. . [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] windham says (_diary_, p. ) that when dr. brocklesby made this offer 'johnson pressed his hands and said, "god bless you through jesus christ, but i will take no money but from my sovereign." this, if i mistake not, was told the king through west.' dr. brocklesby wrote to burke, on july , , to make him 'an instant present of £ , which,' he continues, 'for years past, by will, i had destined as a testimony of my regard on my decease.' burke, accepting the present, said:--'i shall never be ashamed to have it known, that i am obliged to one who never can be capable of converting his kindness into a burthen.' burke's _corres._ iii. . see _ante_, p. , for the just praise bestowed by johnson on physicians in his _life of garth_. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] _letters to mrs. thrale_, vol. ii. p . boswell. [ ] rogers (_table-talk_, p. ) describes him as 'a very handsome, gentlemanly, and amiable person. mme. d'arblay tells how one evening at dr. burney's home, when signor piozzi was playing on the piano, 'mrs. thrale stealing on tip-toe behind him, ludicrously began imitating him. dr. burney whispered to her, "because, madam, you have no ear yourself for music, will you destroy the attention of all who in that one point are otherwise gifted?"' mrs. thrale took this rebuke very well. this was her first meeting with piozzi. it was in mr. thrale's life-time. _memoirs of dr. burney_, ii. . [ ] dr. johnson's letter to sir john hawkins, _life_, p. . boswell. the last time miss burney saw johnson, not three weeks before his death, he told her that the day before he had seen miss thrale. 'i then said:--"do you ever, sir, hear from mother?" "no," cried he, "nor write to her. i drive her quite from my mind. if i meet with one of her letters, i burn it instantly. i have burnt all i can find. i never speak of her, and i desire never to hear of her more. i drive her, as i said, wholly from my mind."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] _anec_. p. . boswell. [ ] 'the saying of the old philosopher who observes, "that he who wants least is most like the gods who want nothing," was a favourite sentence with dr. johnson, who on his own part required less attendance, sick or well, than ever i saw any human creature. conversation was all he required to make him happy.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . miss burney's account of the life at streatham is generally very cheerful. i suspect that the irksome confinement described by mrs. piozzi was not felt by her till she became attached to mr. piozzi. this caused a great change in her behaviour and much unhappiness. (_ante_, p. , note .) he at times treated her harshly. (_ante_, p. , note.) two passages in her letters to miss burney shew a want of feeling in her for a man who for nearly twenty years had been to her almost as a father. on feb. , , she writes:--'johnson is in a sad way doubtless; yet he may still with care last another twelve-month, and every week's existence is gain to him, who, like good hezekiah, wearies heaven with entreaties for life. i wrote him a very serious letter the other day.' on march she writes:--' my going to london would be a dreadful expense, and bring on a thousand inquiries and inconveniences--visits to johnson and from cator.' it is likely that in other letters there were like passages, but these letters miss burney 'for cogent reasons destroyed.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. , , . [ ] 'bless'd paper credit! last and best supply! that lends corruption lighter wings to fly!' pope, _moral essays_, iii. . [ ] who has been pleased to furnish me with his remarks. boswell. no doubt malone, who says, however: 'on the whole the publick is indebted to her for her lively, though very inaccurate and artful, account of dr. johnson.' prior's _malone_, p. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] _anec._ p. . boswell. [ ] hannah more. she, with her sisters, had kept a boarding-school at bristol. [ ] she first saw johnson in june, . according to her _memoirs_ (i. ) he met her 'with good humour in his countenance, and continued in the same pleasant humour the whole of the evening.' she called on him in bolt court. one of her sisters writes:--'miss reynolds told the doctor of all our rapturous exclamations [about him] on the road. he shook his scientific head at hannah, and said, "she was a silly thing."' _ib_. p. . 'he afterwards mentioned to miss reynolds how much he had been touched with the enthusiasm of the young authoress, which was evidently genuine and unaffected.' _ib_. p. . she met him again in the spring of . her sister writes:--'the old genius was extremely jocular, and the young one very pleasant. they indeed tried which could "pepper the highest" [goldsmith's _retaliation_], and it is not clear to me that he was really the highest seasoner.' _ib_. p. . from the mores we know nothing of his reproof. he had himself said of 'a literary lady'--no doubt hannah more--'i was obliged to speak to miss reynolds to let her know that i desired she would not flatter me so much.' _ante_, iii. . miss burney records a story she had from mrs. thrale, 'which,' she continues, 'exceeds, i think, in its severity all the severe things i have yet heard of dr. johnson's saying. when miss more was introduced to him, she began singing his praise in the warmest manner. for some time he heard her with that quietness which a long use of praise has given him: she then redoubled her strokes, till at length he turned suddenly to her, with a stern and angry countenance, and said, "madam, before you flatter a man so grossly to his face, you should consider whether or not your flattery is worth his having."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. . shortly afterwards miss burney records (_ib_. p. ) that mrs. thrale said to him:--'we have told her what you said to miss more, and i believe that makes her afraid.' he replied:--'well, and if she was to serve me as miss more did, i should say the same thing to her.' we have therefore three reports of what he said--one from mrs. thrale indirectly, one from her directly, and the third from malone. however severe the reproof was, the mores do not seem to have been much touched by it. at all events they enjoyed the meeting with johnson, and hannah more needed a second reproof that was conveyed to her through miss reynolds. [ ] _anec._ p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , , , , ; ii. , ; iii. ; and _post_, v. , note . [ ] _anec._ p. . boswell. see _ante_, p. , _note_ , where i quote the passage. [ ] _ib_. p. . boswell. [ ] _ib_. p. . mr. hayward says:--'she kept a copious diary and notebook called _thraliana_ from to . it is now,' [ ] he continues, 'in the possession of mr. salusbury, who deems it of too private and delicate a character to be submitted to strangers, but has kindly supplied me with some curious passages from it.' hayward's _piozzi_, i. . [ ] _ib_. p. [ ]. boswell. [ ] _anec._ p. [ ]. boswell. [ ] johnson, says murphy, (_life_, p. ) 'felt not only kindness, but zeal and ardour for his friends.' 'who,' he asks (_ib_. p. ), 'was more sincere and steady in his friendships?' 'numbers,' he says (_ib_. p. ), 'still remember with gratitude the friendship which he shewed to them with unaltered affection for a number of years.' [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] johnson's _works_, i. , . [ ] in vol. ii. of the _piozzi letters_ some of these letters are given. [ ] he gave miss thrale lessons in latin. mme. d'arblay's _diary,_ i. and . [ ] _anec._ p. . boswell. [ ] george james cholmondeley, esq., grandson of george, third earl of cholmondeley, and one of the commissioners of excise; a gentleman respected for his abilities, and elegance of manners. boswell. when i spoke to him a few years before his death upon this point, i found him very sore at being made the topic of such a debate, and very unwilling to remember any thing about either the offence or the apology. croker. [ ] _letters to mrs. thrale,_ vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] mrs. piozzi (_anec._p. ) lays the scene of this anecdote 'in some distant province, either shropshire or derbyshire, i believe.' johnson drove through these counties with the thrales in (_ante_, ii. ). if the passage in the letter refers to the same anecdote--and mrs. piozzi does not, so far as i know, deny it--more than three years passed before johnson was told of his rudeness. baretti, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, ii. , says that the story was 'mr. cholmondeley's running away from his creditors.' in this he is certainly wrong; yet if mr. cholmondeley had run away, and others gave the same explanation of the passage, his soreness is easily accounted for. [ ] _anec_. p. . boswell. [ ] _ib_. p. . boswell. [ ] _rasselas_, chap, xvii [ ] _paradise lost_, iv. . [ ] _anec_. p. . boswell. [ ] 'johnson one day, on seeing an old terrier lie asleep by the fire-side at streatham, said, "presto, you are, if possible, a more lazy dog that i am."' johnson's _works_, ed. , xi. . [ ] upon mentioning this to my friend mr. wilkes, he, with his usual readiness, pleasantly matched it with the following _sentimental anecdote_. he was invited by a young man of fashion at paris, to sup with him and a lady, who had been for some time his mistress, but with whom he was going to part. he said to mr. wilkes that he really felt very much for her, she was in such distress; and that he meant to make her a present of two hundred louis-d'ors. mr. wilkes observed the behaviour of mademoiselle, who sighed indeed very piteously, and assumed every pathetick air of grief; but eat no less than three french pigeons, which are as large as english partridges, besides other things. mr. wilkes whispered the gentleman, 'we often say in england, _excessive sorrow is exceeding dry_, but i never heard _excessive sorrow is exceeding hungry_. perhaps _one_ hundred will do.' the gentleman took the hint. boswell. [ ] see _post_, p. , for the passage omitted. [ ] sir joshua reynolds, on account of the excellence both of the sentiment and expression of this letter, took a copy of it which he shewed to some of his friends; one of whom, who admired it, being allowed to peruse it leisurely at home, a copy was made, and found its way into the newspapers and magazines. it was transcribed with some inaccuracies. i print it from the original draft in johnson's own hand-writing. boswell. hawkins writes (_life_, p. ):--'johnson, upon being told that it was in print, exclaimed in my hearing, "i am betrayed," but soon after forgot, as he was ever ready to do all real or supposed injuries, the error that made the publication possible.' [ ] cowper wrote of thurlow:--'i know well the chancellor's benevolence of heart, and how much he is misunderstood by the world. when he was young he would do the kindest things, and at an expense to himself which at that time he could ill afford, and he would do them too in the most secret manner.' southey's _cowper_, vii. . yet thurlow did not keep his promise made to cowper when they were fellow-clerks in an attorney's office. 'thurlow, i am nobody, and shall be always nobody, and you will be chancellor. you shall provide for me when you are.' he smiled, and replied, 'i surely will.' _ib._ i. . when cowper sent him the first volume of his poems, 'he thought it not worth his while,' the poet writes, 'to return me any answer, or to take the least notice of my present.' _ib._ xv. . mr. (afterwards sir) w. jones, in two letters to burke, speaks of thurlow as the [greek: thaerion] (beast). 'i heard last night, with surprise and affliction,' he wrote on feb. , ,'that the [greek: thaerion] was to continue in office. now i can assure you from my own positive knowledge (and i know him well), that although he hates _our_ species in general, yet his particular hatred is directed against none more virulently than against lord north, and the friends of the late excellent marquis.' burke's _corres._ ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'scarcely had pitt obtained possession of unbounded power when an aged writer of the highest eminence, who had made very little by his writings, and who was sinking into the grave under a load of infirmities and sorrows, wanted five or six hundred pounds to enable him, during the winter or two which might still remain to him, to draw his breath more easily in the soft climate of italy. not a farthing was to be obtained; and before christmas the author of the _english dictionary_ and of the _lives of the poets_ had gasped his last in the river fog and coal smoke of fleet-street.' _macaulay's writings and speeches,_ ed. , p. . just before macaulay, with monstrous exaggeration, says that gibbon, 'forced by poverty to leave his country, completed his immortal work on the shores of lake leman.' this poverty of gibbon would have been 'splendour' to johnson. debrett's royal kalendar, for (p. ), shews that there were twelve lords of the king's bedchamber receiving each £ a year, and fourteen grooms of the bedchamber receiving each, £ a year. as burns was made a gauger, so johnson might have been made a lord, or at least a groom of the bedchamber. it is not certain that pitt heard of the application for an increased pension. mr. croker quotes from thurlow's letter to reynolds of nov. , :--'it was impossible for me to take the king's pleasure on the suggestion i presumed to move. i am an untoward solicitor.' whether he consulted pitt cannot be known. mr. croker notices a curious obliteration in this letter. the chancellor had written:--'it would have suited the purpose better, if nobody had heard of it, except dr. johnson, you and j. boswell.' _boswell_ has been erased--'artfully' too, says--mr. croker-so that 'the sentence appears to run, "except dr. johnson, you, and i."' mr. croker, with his usual suspiciousness, suspects 'an uncandid trick.' but it is very likely that thurlow himself made the obliteration, regardless of grammar. he might easily have thought that it would have been better still had boswell not been in the secret. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] on june boswell and johnson were together (_ante_, p. ). the date perhaps should be july . the letter that follows next is dated july . [ ] 'even in our flight from vice some virtue lies.' francis. horace, i. _epistles_, i. . [ ] see vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] mrs. johnson died in . see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] see appendix. [ ] printed in his _works_ [i. ]. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] he wrote to mr. ryland on the same day:--'be pleased to let the whole be done with privacy that i may elude the vigilance of the papers.' _notes and queries_, th s. vii. . [ ] boileau, _art poétique_, chant iv. [ ] this is probably an errour either of the transcript or the press. _removes_ seems to be the word intended. malone. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and _post_ p. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] i have heard dr. johnson protest that he never had quite as much as he wished of wall-fruit, except once in his life.' piozzi's _anec_. p. . [ ] at the essex head, essex-street. boswell. [ ] juvenal, _satires_, x. :-- 'fate wings with every wish the afflictive dart.' _vanity of human wishes_, l. . [ ] mr. allen, the printer. boswell. see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] it was on this day that he wrote the prayer given below (p. ) in which is found that striking line--'this world where much is to be done and little to be known.' [ ] his letter to dr. heberden (croker's _boswell_, p. ) shews that he had gone with dr. brocklesby to the last academy dinner, when, as he boasted, 'he went up all the stairs to the pictures without stopping to rest or to breathe.' _ante_, p. , note . [ ] quid te exempta _levat_ spinis de pluribus una? 'pluck out one thorn to mitigate thy pain, what boots it while so many more remain?' francis. horace, _epistles_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] sir joshua's physician. he is mentioned by goldsmith in his verses to the miss hornecks. forster's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] how much balloons filled people's minds at this time is shewn by such entries as the following in windham's _diary_:-'feb , . did not rise till past nine; from that time till eleven, did little more than indulge in idle reveries about balloons.' p. . 'july . the greater part of the time, till now, one o'clock, spent in foolish reveries about balloons.' p. . horace walpole wrote on sept. (_letters_, viii. ):--'i cannot fill my paper, as the newspapers do, with air-balloons; which though ranked with the invention of navigation, appear to me as childish as the flying kites of school-boys.' 'do not write about the balloon,' wrote johnson to reynolds (_post_, p. ), 'whatever else you may think proper to say.' in the beginning of the year he had written:--'it is very seriously true that a subscription of £ has been raised for the wire and workmanship of iron wings.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] it is remarkable that so good a latin scholar as johnson, should have been so inattentive to the metre, as by mistake to have written _stellas_ instead of _ignes_. boswell. [ ] 'micat inter omnes julium sidus, velut inter ignes luna minores.' 'and like the moon, the feebler fires among, conspicuous shines the julian star.' francis. horace, _odes_, i. . . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] 'the little blood that creeps within his veins is but just warmed in a hot fever's pains.' dryden. juvenal, _satires_, x. . [ ] lunardi had made, on sept. , the first balloon ascent in england. _gent. mag_. , p. . johnson wrote to mr. ryland on sept. :--'i had this day in three letters three histories of the flying man in the great balloon.' he adds:--'i live in dismal solitude.' _notes and queries_, th s. vii. . [ ] 'sept. , . went to see blanchard's balloon. met burke and d. burke; walked with them to pantheon to see lunardi's. sept. . about nine came to brookes's, where i heard that the balloon had been burnt about four o'clock.' windham's _diary_, p. . [ ] his love of london continually appears. in a letter from him to mrs. smart, wife of his friend the poet, which is published in a well-written life of him, prefixed to an edition of his poems, in , there is the following sentence:-'to one that has passed so many years in the pleasures and opulence of london, there are few places that can give much delight.' once, upon reading that line in the curious epitaph quoted in _the spectator;_ 'born in new-england, did in london die;' he laughed and said, 'i do not wonder at this. it would have been strange, if born in london, he had died in new-england.' boswell. mrs. smart was in dublin when johnson wrote to her. after the passage quoted by boswell he continued:--'i think, madam, you may look upon your expedition as a proper preparative to the voyage which we have often talked of. dublin, though a place much worse than london, is not so bad as iceland.' smart's _poems_, i. xxi. for iceland see _ante_, i. . the epitaph, quoted in _the spectator_, no. , begins-- here thomas sapper lies interred. ah why! born in new-england, did in london die.' [ ] _st. mark_, v. . [ ] there is no record of this in the _gent. mag_. among the persons who that summer had been sentenced to death (_ante_, p. ) who would notice these two? [ ] see _ante_, p. , note [ ] johnson wrote for him a dedication of his _tasso_ in . _ante_, i. . [ ] there was no information for which dr. johnson was less grateful that than for that which concerned the weather. it was in allusion to his impatience with those who were reduced to keep conversation alive by observations on the weather, that he applied the old proverb to himself. if any one of his intimate acquaintance told him it was hot or cold, wet or dry, windy or calm, he would stop them, by saying, 'poh! poh! you are telling us that of which none but men in a mine or a dungeon can be ignorant. let us bear with patience, or enjoy in quiet, elementary changes, whether for the better or the worse, as they are never secrets.' burney. in _the idler_, no. ii, johnson shews that 'an englishman's notice of the weather is the natural consequence of changeable skies and uncertain seasons... in our island every man goes to sleep unable to guess whether he shall behold in the morning a bright or cloudy atmosphere, whether his rest shall be lulled by a shower, or broken by a tempest. we therefore rejoice mutually at good weather, as at an escape from something that we feared; and mutually complain of bad, as of the loss of something that we hoped.' see _ante_, i. , and iv. . [ ] his _account of the musical performances in commemoration of handel_. see _ante_, p. . [ ] the celebrated miss fanny burney. boswell. [ ] dr. burney's letter must have been franked; otherwise there would have been no frugality, for each enclosure was charged as a separate letter. [ ] he does not know, that is to say, what people of his acquaintance were in town, privileged to receive letters post free; such as members of either house of parliament. [ ] _consolation_ is clearly a blunder, malone's conjecture _mortification_ seems absurd. [ ] see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [ ] windham visited him at ashbourne in the end of august, after the former of these letters was written. see _ante_, p. . [ ] this may refer, as mr. croker says, to hamilton's generous offer, mentioned _ante_, p. . yet johnson, with his accurate mind, was not likely to assign to the spring an event of the previous november. [ ] johnson refers to pope's lines on walpole:-- 'seen him i have but in his _happier hour_ of social pleasure, ill-exchanged for power.' _satires. epilogue_, i. . [ ] son of the late peter paradise, esq. his britannick majesty's consul at salonica, in macedonia, by his lady, a native of that country. he studied at oxford, and has been honoured by that university with the degree of ll.d. he is distinguished not only by his learning and talents, but by an amiable disposition, gentleness of manners, and a very general acquaintance with well-informed and accomplished persons of almost all nations. boswell. [ ] bookseller to his majesty. boswell. [ ] mr. cruikshank attended him as a surgeon the year before. _ante_, p. . [ ]allan ramsay, esq. painter to his majesty, who died aug. , , in the st year of his age, much regretted by his friends. boswell. see _ante_, p. . [ ] northcote (_life of reynolds_, ii. ) says that johnson 'most probably refers to sir joshua's becoming painter to the king. 'i know,' he continues, 'that sir joshua expected the appointment would be offered to him on the death of ramsay, and expressed his disapprobation with regard to soliciting for it; but he was informed that it was a necessary point of etiquette, with which at last he complied.' his 'furious purposes' should seem to have been his intention to resign the presidency of the academy, on finding that the place was not at once given him, and in the knowledge that in the academy there was a party against him. taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] the chancellor had not, it should seem, asked the king. see _ante_, p. , note. [ ] the duke of devonshire has kindly given me the following explanation of this term:--'it was formerly the custom at some (i believe several) of the large country-houses to have dinners at which any of the neighbouring gentry and clergy might present themselves as guests without invitation. the custom had been discontinued at chatsworth before my recollection, and so far as i am aware is now only kept-up at wentworth, lord fitzwilliam's house in yorkshire, where a few public dinners are still given annually. i believe, however, that all persons intending to be present on such occasions are now expected to give notice some days previously. public dinners were also given formerly by the archbishop of canterbury, and if i am not mistaken also by the archbishop of york. i have myself been present at a public dinner at lambeth palace within the last fifty years or thereabouts, and i have been at one or more such dinners at wentworth.' since receiving this explanation i have read the following in the second part of the _greville memoirs_, i. :--'june , . i dined yesterday at lambeth, at the archbishop's public dinner, the handsomest entertainment i ever saw. there were nearly a hundred people present, all full-dressed or in uniform. nothing can be more dignified and splendid than the whole arrangement.' [ ] six weeks later he was willing to hear even of balloons, so long as he got a letter. 'you,' he wrote to mr. sastres, 'may always have something to tell: you live among the various orders of mankind, and may make a letter from the exploits, sometimes of the philosopher, and sometimes of the pickpocket. you see some balloons succeed and some miscarry, and a thousand strange and a thousand foolish things.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, p. , note. [ ] 'he alludes probably to the place of king's painter; which, since burke's reforming the king's household expenses, had been reduced from £ to £ per annum.' northcote's _reynolds_, ii. . the place was more profitable than johnson thought. 'it was worth having from the harvest it brought in by the multiplication of the faces of king and queen as presents for ambassadors and potentates.' this is shewn by the following note in sir joshua's price-book:--'nov. , , remain in the academy five kings, four queens; in the house two kings and one queen.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] mr. nichols published in _anecdotes of william bowyer, printer_. in - he brought out this work, recast and enlarged, under the title of _literary anecdotes of the eighteenth century_. see _ante_, p. . [ ] in the original (which is in the british museum) not _hints_ but _names_. [ ] on nov. , he wrote to mr. ryland:--'i have just received a letter in which you tell me that you love to hear from me, and i value such a declaration too much to neglect it. to have a friend, and a friend like you, may be numbered amongst the first felicities of life; at a time when weakness either of body or mind loses the pride and the confidence of self-sufficiency, and looks round for that help which perhaps human kindness cannot give, and which we yet are willing to expect from one another. i am at this time very much dejected.... i am now preparing myself for my return, and do not despair of some more monthly meetings [_post_, appendix c]. to hear that dear payne is better gives me great delight. i saw the draught of the stone [over mrs. johnson's grave, _ante_, p. ]. shall i ever be able to bear the sight of this stone? in your company i hope i shall.' mr. morrison's _autographs_, vol. ii. [ ] to him as a writer might be generally applied what he said of rochester:--'his pieces are commonly short, such as one fit of resolution would produce.' _works_, vii. . [ ] _odes_, iv. . _works_, i. . [ ] _against inqitisitive and perplexing thoughts_. 'o lord, my maker and protector, who hast graciously sent me into this world to work out my salvation, enable me to drive from me all such unquiet and perplexing thoughts as may mislead or hinder me in the practice of those duties which thou hast required. when i behold the works of thy hands, and consider the course of thy providence, give me grace always to remember that thy thoughts are not my thoughts, nor thy ways my ways. and while it shall please thee to continue me in this world, where much is to be done, and little to be known, teach me by thy holy spirit, to withdraw my mind from unprofitable and dangerous enquiries, from difficulties vainly curious, and doubts impossible to be solved. let me rejoice in the light which thou hast imparted, let me serve thee with active zeal and humble confidence, and wait with patient expectation for the time in which the soul which thou receivest shall be satisfied with knowledge. grant this, o lord, for jesus christ's sake. amen.' boswell. _pr. and med._ p. . [ ] _life of johnson_, p. . [ ] porson with admirable humour satirised hawkins for his attack on barber. _gent. mag._ , p. , and _porson tracts_, p. . baretti in his _tolondron_, p. , says that 'barber from his earliest youth served johnson with the greatest affection and disinterestedness.' [ ] vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] i shall add one instance only to those which i have thought it incumbent on me to point out. talking of mr. garrick's having signified his willingness to let johnson have the loan of any of his books to assist him in his edition of shakspeare [_ante_, ii. ]; sir john says, (p. ,) 'mr. garrick knew not what risque he ran by this offer. johnson had so strange a forgetfulness of obligations of this sort, that few who lent him books ever saw them again.' this surely conveys a most unfavourable insinuation, and has been so understood. sir john mentions the single case of a curious edition of politian [_ante_, i. ], which he tells us, 'appeared to belong to pembroke college, and which, probably, had been considered by johnson as his own, for upwards of fifty years.' would it not be fairer to consider this as an inadvertence, and draw no general inference? the truth is, that johnson was so attentive, that in one of his manuscripts in my possession, he has marked in two columns, books borrowed, and books lent. in sir john hawkins's compilation, there are, however, some passages concerning johnson which have unquestionable merit. one of them i shall transcribe, in justice to a writer whom i have had too much occasion to censure, and to shew my fairness as the biographer of my illustrious friend: 'there was wanting in his conduct and behaviour, that dignity which results from a regular and orderly course of action, and by an irresistible power commands esteem. he could not be said to be a stayed man, nor so to have adjusted in his mind the balance of reason and passion, as to give occasion to say what may be observed of some men, that all they do is just, fit, and right.' [hawkins's _johnson_, p. .] yet a judicious friend well suggests, 'it might, however, have been added, that such men are often merely just, and rigidly correct, while their hearts are cold and unfeeling; and that johnson's virtues were of a much higher tone than those of the _stayed, orderly man_, here described.' boswell. [ ] 'lich, a dead carcase; whence lichfield, the field of the dead, a city in staffordshire, so named from martyred christians. _salve magna parens.'_ it is curious that in the abridgment of the _dictionary_ he struck out this salutation, though he left the rest of the article. _salve magna parens_, (hail, mighty parent) is from virgil's _georgics_, ii. . the rev. t. twining, when at lichfield in , says:--'i visited the famous large old willow-tree, which johnson, they say, used to kiss when he came to lichfield.' _recreations and studies of a country clergyman of the xviii century_, p. . [ ] the following circumstance, mutually to the honour of johnson, and the corporation of his native city, has been communicated to me by the reverend dr. vyse, from the town-clerk:--'mr. simpson has now before him, a record of the respect and veneration which the corporation of lichfield, in the year , had for the merits and learning of dr. johnson. his father built the corner-house in the market-place, the two fronts of which, towards market and broad-market-street, stood upon waste land of the corporation, under a forty years' lease, which was then expired. on the th of august, , at a common-hall of the bailiffs and citizens, it was ordered (and that without any solicitation,) that a lease should be granted to samuel johnson, doctor of laws, of the encroachments at his house, for the term of ninety-nine years, at the old rent, which was five shillings. of which, as town-clerk, mr. simpson had the honour and pleasure of informing him, and that he was desired to accept it, without paying any fine on the occasion, which lease was afterwards granted, and the doctor died possessed of this property.' boswell. [ ] see vol. i. p. . boswell. [ ] according to miss seward, who was mr. white's cousin, 'johnson once called him "the rising strength of lichfield."' seward's _letters_, i. . [ ] the rev. r. warner, who visited lichfield in , gives in his _tour through the northern counties_, i. , a fuller account. he is clearly wrong in the date of its occurrence, and in one other matter, yet his story may in the main be true. he says that johnson's friends at lichfield missed him one morning; the servants said that he had set off at a very early hour, whither they knew not. just before supper he returned. he informed his hostess of his breach of filial duty, which had happened just fifty years before on that very day. 'to do away the sin of this disobedience, i this day went,' he said, 'in a chaise to--, and going into the market at the time of high business uncovered my head, and stood with it bare an hour, before the stall which my father had formerly used, exposed to the sneers of the standers-by, and the inclemency of the weather.' this penance may recall dante's lines,-- 'quando vivea più glorioso, disse, liberamente nel campo di siena, ogni vergogna deposta, s'affisse.' '"when at his glory's topmost height," said he, "respect of dignity all cast aside, freely he fix'd him on sienna's plain."' cary. dante, _purgatory_. cant. xi. l. . [ ] 'how instinct varies in the grovelling swine, compared, half-reasoning elephant, with thine.' pope, _essay on man_, i. . [ ] see _ante_, iii. , . [ ] mr. burke suggested to me as applicable to johnson, what cicero, in his cato major, says of _appius:--'intentum enim animum tanquam arcum habebat, nec languescens succumbebat senectuti_;' repeating, at the same time, the following noble words in the same passage:--_'ita enim senectus honesta est, si se ipsa defendit, si jus suum retinet, si nemini emancipata est, si usque ad extremum vitae spiritum vindicet jus suum_.' boswell. the last line runs in the original:-'si usque ad ultimum spiritum dominatur in suos.' _cato major_, xi. . [ ] '_atrocem_ animum catonis.' 'cato-- of spirit unsubdued.' francis. horace, _odes_, i. . [ ] yet baretti, who knew johnson well, in a ms. note on _piozzi letters_, i. , says:--'if ever johnson took any delight in anything it was to converse with some old acquaintance. new people he never loved to be in company with, except ladies, when disposed to caress and flatter him.' [ ] johnson, thirty-four years earlier, wrote:--'i think there is some reason for questioning whether the body and mind are not so proportioned that the one can bear all that can be inflicted on the other; whether virtue cannot stand its ground as long as life, and whether a soul well principled will not be separated sooner than subdued.' _the rambler_, no. . he wrote to mrs. thrale on aug. , :--'but what if i am seventy-two; i remember sulpitius says of saint martin (now that's above your reading), _est animus victor annorum, et senectuti cedere nescius_. match me that among your young folks.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . on sept. , , he wrote to mr. sastres the italian master:--'i have hope of standing the english winter, and of seeing you, and reading _petrarch_ at bolt-court.' _ib_. p. . [ ] _life of johnson_, p. . [ ] it is a most agreeable circumstance attending the publication of this work, that mr. hector has survived his illustrious schoolfellow so many years; that he still retains his health and spirits; and has gratified me with the following acknowledgement: 'i thank you, most sincerely thank you, for the great and long continued entertainment your _life of dr. johnson_ has afforded me, and others, of my particular friends.' mr. hector, besides setting me right as to the verses on a sprig of myrtle, (see vol. i. p. , note,) has favoured me with two english odes, written by dr. johnson, at an early period of his life, which will appear in my edition of his poems. boswell. see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] the editor of the _biographia britannica. ante_, iii. . [ ] on dec. , miss adams wrote to a friend:--'we are all under the sincerest grief for the loss of poor dr. johnson. he spent three or four days with my father at oxford, and promised to come again; as he was, he said, nowhere so happy.' _pemb. coll. mss._ [ ] see _ante_, p. . [ ] mr. strahan says (preface, p. iv.) that johnson, being hindered by illness from revising these prayers, 'determined to give the mss., without revision, in charge to me. accordingly one morning, on my visiting him by desire at an early hour, he put these papers into my hands, with instructions for committing them to the press, and with a promise to prepare a sketch of his own life to accompany them.' whatever johnson wished about the prayers, it passes belief that he ever meant for the eye of the world these minute accounts of his health and his feelings. some parts indeed mr. strahan himself suppressed, as the pemb. coll. mss. shew (_ante_, p. , note ). it is curious that one portion at least fell into other hands (_ante_, ii. ). there are other apparent gaps in the diary which raise the suspicion that it was only fragments that mr. strahan obtained. on the other hand mr. strahan had nothing to gain by the publication beyond notoriety (see his preface, p. vi.). dr. adams, whose name is mentioned in the preface, expressed in a letter to the _gent. mag._ , p. , his disapproval of the publication. mr. courtenay (_poetical review_, ed. , p. ), thus attacked mr. strahan:-- 'let priestly s--h--n in a godly fit the tale relate, in aid of holy writ; though candid adams, by whom david fell [a], who ancient miracles sustained so well, to recent wonders may deny his aid, nor own a pious brother of the trade.' [a] the rev. dr. adams of oxford, distinguished for his answer to david hume's _essay on miracles_. [ ] johnson once said to miss burney of her brother charles:--'i should be glad to see him if he were not your brother; but were he a dog, a cat, a rat, a frog, and belonged to you, i must needs be glad to see him.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . on nov. she called on him. 'he let me in, though very ill. he told me he was going to try what sleeping out of town might do for him. "i remember," said he, "that my wife, when she was near her end, poor woman, was also advised to sleep out of town; and when she was carried to the lodgings that had been prepared for her, she complained that the staircase was in very bad condition, for the plaster was beaten off the walls in many places." "oh!" said the man of the house, "that's nothing but by the knocks against it of the coffins of the poor souls that have died in the lodgings." he laughed, though not without apparent secret anguish, in telling me this.' miss burney continues:--'how delightfully bright are his faculties, though the poor and infirm machine that contains them seems alarmingly giving way. yet, all brilliant as he was, i saw him growing worse, and offered to go, which, for the first time i ever remember, he did not oppose; but most kindly pressing both my hands, "be not," he said, in a voice of even tenderness, "be not longer in coming again for my letting you go now." i assured him i would be the sooner, and was running off, but he called me back in a solemn voice, and in a manner the most energetic, said:--"remember me in your prayers."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] mr. hector's sister and johnson's first love. _ante_, ii. . [ ] the rev. dr. taylor. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'reliquum est, _[greek: sphartan elaches, tahutan khusmei].'_ cicero, _epistolae ad atticum_, iv. . 'spartam nactus es, hanc orna.' erasmus, _adagiorum chiliades_, ed. , p. . [ ] temple says of the spleen that it is a disease too refined for this country and people, who are well when they are not ill, and pleased when they are not troubled; are content, because they think little of it, and seek their happiness in the common eases and commodities of life, or the increase of riches; not amusing themselves with the more speculative contrivances of passion, or refinements of pleasure.' temple's _works_, ed. , i. . [ ] it is truly wonderful to consider the extent and constancy of johnson's literary ardour, notwithstanding the melancholy which clouded and embittered his existence. besides the numerous and various works which he executed, he had, at different times, formed schemes of a great many more, of which the following catalogue was given by him to mr. langton, and by that gentleman presented to his majesty: 'divinity. 'a small book of precepts and directions for piety; the hint taken from the directions in morton's exercise. 'philosophy, history, and literature in general. '_history of criticism_, as it relates to judging of authours, from aristotle to the present age. an account of the rise and improvements of that art; of the different opinions of authours, ancient and modern. 'translation of the _history of herodian_. 'new edition of fairfax's translation of _tasso_, with notes, glossary, &c. 'chaucer, a new edition of him, from manuscripts and old editions, with various readings, conjectures, remarks on his language, and the changes it had undergone from the earliest times to his age, and from his to the present: with notes explanatory of customs, &c., and references to boccace, and other authours from whom he has borrowed, with an account of the liberties he has taken in telling the stories; his life, and an exact etymological glossary. 'aristotle's _rhetorick_, a translation of it into english. 'a collection of letters, translated from the modern writers, with some account of the several authours. 'oldham's poems, with notes, historical and critical. 'roscommon's poems, with notes. 'lives of the philosophers, written with a polite air, in such a manner as may divert as well as instruct. 'history of the heathen mythology, with an explication of the fables, both allegorical and historical; with references to the poets. 'history of the state of venice, in a compendious manner. 'aristotle's _ethicks_, an english translation of them, with notes. 'geographical dictionary, from the french. 'hierocles upon pythagoras, translated into english, perhaps with notes. this is done by norris. 'a book of letters, upon all kinds of subjects. 'claudian, a new edition of his works, _cum notis variorum_, in the manner of burman. 'tully's tusculan questions, a translation of them. 'tully's de naturâ deorum, a translation of those books. 'benzo's new history of the new world, to be translated. 'machiavel's history of florence, to be translated. 'history of the revival of learning in europe, containing an account of whatever contributed to the restoration of literature; such as controversies, printing, the destruction of the greek empire, the encouragement of great men, with the lives of the most eminent patrons and most eminent early professors of all kinds of learning in different countries. 'a body of chronology, in verse, with historical notes. 'a table of the spectators, tatlers, and guardians, distinguished by figures into six degrees of value, with notes, giving the reasons of preference or degradation. 'a collection of letters from english authours, with a preface giving some account of the writers; with reasons for selection, and criticism upon styles; remarks on each letter, if needful. 'a collection of proverbs from various languages. jan. ,-- . 'a dictionary to the common prayer, in imitation of calmet's _dictionary of the bible_. march, . 'a collection of stories and examples, like those of valerius maximus. jan. ,-- . 'from aelian, a volume of select stories, perhaps from others. jan. ,- . 'collection of travels, voyages, adventures, and descriptions of countries. 'dictionary of ancient history and mythology. 'treatise on the study of polite literature, containing the history of learning, directions for editions, commentaries, &c. 'maxims, characters, and sentiments, after the manner of bruyère, collected out of ancient authours, particularly the greek, with apophthegms. 'classical miscellanies, select translations from ancient greek and latin authours. 'lives of illustrious persons, as well of the active as the learned, in imitation of plutarch. 'judgement of the learned upon english authours. 'poetical dictionary of the english tongue. 'considerations upon the present state of london. 'collection of epigrams, with notes and observations. 'observations on the english language, relating to words, phrases, and modes of speech. 'minutiae literariae, miscellaneous reflections, criticisms, emendations, notes. 'history of the constitution. 'comparison of philosophical and christian morality, by sentences collected from the moralists and fathers. 'plutarch's lives, in english, with notes. 'poetry and works of imagination. 'hymn to ignorance. 'the palace of sloth,--a vision. 'coluthus, to be translated. 'prejudice,--a poetical essay. 'the palace of nonsense,--a vision.' johnson's extraordinary facility of composition, when he shook off his constitutional indolence, and resolutely sat down to write, is admirably described by mr. courtenay, in his poetical review, which i have several times quoted: 'while through life's maze he sent a piercing view, his mind expansive to the object grew. with various stores of erudition fraught, the lively image, the deep-searching thought, slept in repose;--but when the moment press'd, the bright ideas stood at once confess'd; instant his genius sped its vigorous rays, and o'er the letter'd world diffus'd a blaze: as womb'd with fire the cloud electrick flies, and calmly o'er th' horizon seems to rise; touch'd by the pointed steel, the lightning flows, and all th' expanse with rich effulgence glows.' we shall in vain endeavour to know with exact precision every production of johnson's pen. he owned to me, that he had written about forty sermons; but as i understood that he had given or sold them to different persons, who were to preach them as their own, he did not consider himself at liberty to acknowledge them. would those who were thus aided by him, who are still alive, and the friends of those who are dead, fairly inform the world, it would be obligingly gratifying a reasonable curiosity, to which there should, i think, now be no objection. two volumes of them, published since his death, are sufficiently ascertained; see vol. iii. p. . i have before me, in his hand-writing, a fragment of twenty quarto leaves, of a translation into english of sallust, _de bella catilinario_. when it was done i have no notion; but it seems to have no very superior merit to mark it as his. beside the publications heretofore mentioned, i am satisfied, from internal evidence, to admit also as genuine the following, which, notwithstanding all my chronological care, escaped me in the course of this work: 'considerations on the case of dr. trapp's sermons,' + published in , in the _gentleman's magazine_. [these considerations were published, not in , but in . _ante_, i. , note .] it is a very ingenious defence of the right of _abridging_ an authour's work, without being held as infringing his property. this is one of the nicest questions in the _law of literature_; and i cannot help thinking, that the indulgence of abridging is often exceedingly injurious to authours and booksellers, and should in very few cases be permitted. at any rate, to prevent difficult and uncertain discussion, and give an absolute security to authours in the property of their labours, no abridgement whatever should be permitted, till after the expiration of such a number of years as the legislature may be pleased to fix. but, though it has been confidently ascribed to him, i cannot allow that he wrote a dedication to both houses of parliament of a book entitled _the evangelical history harmonized_. he was no _croaker_; no declaimer against _the times_. [see _ante_, ii. .] he would not have written, 'that we are fallen upon an age in which corruption is not barely universal, is universally confessed.' nor 'rapine preys on the publick without opposition, and perjury betrays it without inquiry.' nor would he, to excite a speedy reformation, have conjured up such phantoms of terrour as these: 'a few years longer, and perhaps all endeavours will be in vain. we may be swallowed by an earthquake: we may be delivered to our enemies.' this is not johnsonian. there are, indeed, in this dedication, several sentences constructed upon the model of those of johnson. but the imitation of the form, without the spirit of his style, has been so general, that this of itself is not sufficient evidence. even our newspaper writers aspire to it. in an account of the funeral of edwin, the comedian, in _the diary_ of nov. , , that son of drollery is thus described: 'a man who had so often cheered the sullenness of vacancy, and suspended the approaches of sorrow.' and in _the dublin evening post_, august , , there is the following paragraph: 'it is a singular circumstance, that, in a city like this, containing , people, there are three months in the year during which no place of publick amusement is open. long vacation is here a vacation from pleasure, as well as business; nor is there any mode of passing the listless evenings of declining summer, but in the riots of a tavern, or the stupidity of a coffee-house.' i have not thought it necessary to specify every copy of verses written by johnson, it being my intention to, publish an authentick edition of all his poetry, with notes. boswell. this _catalogue_, as mr. boswell calls it, is by dr. johnson intitled _designs_. it seems from the hand that it was written early in life: from the marginal dates it appears that some portions were added in and . croker. [ ] on april of this year he wrote: 'when i lay sleepless, i used to drive the night along by turning greek epigrams into latin. i know not if i have not turned a hundred.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . forty-five years earlier he described how boerhaave, 'when he lay whole days and nights without sleep, found no method of diverting his thoughts so effectual as meditation upon his studies, and often relieved and mitigated the sense of his torments by the recollection of what he had read, and by reviewing those stores of knowledge which he had reposited in his memory.' _works_, vi. . [ ] mr. cumberland assures me, that he was always treated with great courtesy by dr. johnson, who, in his _letters to mrs. thrale_, vol. ii. p. thus speaks of that learned, ingenious, and accomplished gentleman: 'the want of company is an inconvenience: but mr. cumberland is a million.' boswell. northcote, according to hazlitt (_conversations of northcote_, p. ), said that johnson and his friends 'never admitted c----[cumberland] as one of the set; sir joshua did not invite him to dinner. if he had been in the room, goldsmith would have flown out of it as if a dragon had been there. i remember garrick once saying, "d--n his _dish-clout_ face; his plays would never do, if it were not for my patching them up and acting in them."' [ ] see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] dr. parr said, "there are three great grecians in england: porson is the first; burney is the third; and who is the second i need not tell"' field's _parr_, ii. . [ ] 'dr. johnson,' said parr, 'was an admirable scholar.... the classical scholar was forgotten in the great original contributor to the literature of his country.' _ib._ i. . 'upon his correct and profound knowledge of the latin language,' he wrote, 'i have always spoken with unusual zeal and unusual confidence.' johnson's _parr_, iv. . mrs. piozzi (_anec._ p. ) recounts a 'triumph' gained by johnson in a talk on greek literature. [ ] _ante_, iii. . [ ] we must smile at a little inaccuracy of metaphor in the preface to the _transactions_, which is written by mr. burrowes. the _critick of the style of_ johnson having, with a just zeal for literature, observed, that the whole nation are called on to exert themselves, afterwards says: 'they are _called on_ by every _tye_ which can have a laudable influence on the heart of man.' boswell. [ ] johnson's wishing to unite himself with this rich widow, was much talked of, but i believe without foundation. the report, however, gave occasion to a poem, not without characteristical merit, entitled, 'ode to mrs. thrale, by samuel johnson, ll.d. on their supposed approaching nuptials; printed for mr. faulder in bond-street.' i shall quote as a specimen the first three stanzas:-- 'if e'er my fingers touch'd the lyre, in satire fierce, in pleasure gay; shall not my thralia's smiles inspire? shall sam refuse the sportive lay? my dearest lady! view your slave, behold him as your very _scrub_; eager to write, as authour grave, or govern well, the brewing-tub. to rich felicity thus raised, my bosom glows with amorous fire; porter no longer shall be praised, 'tis i myself am _thrale's entire_' [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] '_higledy piggledy_,--conglomeration and confusion. '_hodge-podge_,--a culinary mixture of heterogeneous ingredients: applied metaphorically to all discordant combinations. '_tit for tat_,--adequate retaliation. '_shilly shally_,--hesitation and irresolution. '_fee! fau! fum!--gigantic intonations. _rigmarole_,-discourse, incoherent and rhapsodical. '_crincum-crancum_,--lines of irregularity and involution. '_dingdong_--tintinabulary chimes, used metaphorically to signify dispatch and vehemence.' boswell. in all the editions that i have examined the sentence in the text beginning with 'annexed,' and ending with 'concatenation,' is printed as if it were boswell's. it is a quotation from vol. ii. p. of colman's book. for _scrub_, see _ante_, iii. , note . [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] _history of america_, vol. i. quarto, p. . boswell. [ ] gibbon (_misc. works_, i. ) thus writes of his own style:--'the style of an author should be the image of his mind, but the choice and command of language is the fruit of exercise. many experiments were made before i could hit the middle tone between a dull chronicle and a rhetorical declamation; three times did i compose the first chapter, and twice the second and third, before i was tolerably satisfied with their effect.' see _ante_, p. , note . [ ] _decline and fall of the roman empire_, vol. i. chap. iv. boswell. [ ] macaulay (_essays_, ed. , iv. ) gives a yet better example of her johnsonian style, though, as i have shewn (_ante_, p. , note ), he is wrong in saying that johnson's hand can be seen. [ ] _cecilia_, book. vii. chap. i. [v.] boswell. [ ] the passage which i quote is taken from that gentleman's _elements of orthoepy_; containing a distinct view of the whole analogy of the english language, so far as relates to _pronunciation, accent, and quantity_, london, . i beg leave to offer my particular acknowledgements to the authour of a work of uncommon merit and great utility. i know no book which contains, in the same compass, more learning, polite literature, sound sense, accuracy of arrangement, and perspicuity of expression. boswell. [ ] that collection was presented to dr. johnson, i believe by its authours; and i heard him speak very well of it. boswell. _the mirror_ was published in - ; by it reached its ninth edition. for an account of it see appendix dd. to forbes's _beattie_. henry mackenzie, the author of _the man of feeling_, was the chief contributor as well as the conductor of the paper. he is given as the author of no. in lynam's edition, p. . [ ] the name of vicesimus knox is now scarcely known. yet so late as his collected _works_ were published in seven octavo volumes. the editor says of his _essays_ (i. iii):--'in no department of the _belles lettres_ has any publication, excepting the _spectator_, been so extensively circulated. it has been translated into most of the european languages.' see _ante_, i. , note ; iii. , note ; and iv. . [ ] _lucretius_, iii. . [ ] it were to be wished, that he had imitated that great man in every respect, and had not followed the example of dr. adam smith [_ante_, iii. , note ] in ungraciously attacking his venerable _alma mater_ oxford. it must, however, be observed, that he is much less to blame than smith: he only objects to certain particulars; smith to the whole institution; though indebted for much of his learning to an exhibition which he enjoyed for many years at baliol college. neither of them, however, will do any hurt to the noblest university in the world. while i animadvert on what appears to me exceptionable in some of the works of dr. knox, i cannot refuse due praise to others of his productions; particularly his sermons, and to the spirit with which he maintains, against presumptuous hereticks, the consolatory doctrines peculiar to the christian revelation. this he has done in a manner equally strenuous and conciliating. neither ought i to omit mentioning a remarkable instance of his candour: notwithstanding the wide difference of our opinions, upon the important subject of university education, in a letter to me concerning this work, he thus expresses himself: 'i thank you for the very great entertainment your _life of johnson_ gives me. it is a most valuable work. yours is a new species of biography. happy for johnson, that he had so able a recorder of his wit and wisdom.' boswell. [ ] dr. knox, in his _moral and literary_ abstraction, may be excused for not knowing the political regulations of his country. no senator can be in the hands of a bailiff. boswell. [ ] it is entitled _a continuation of dr. j--n's criticism on the poems of gray_. the following is perhaps the best passage:--'on some fine evening gray had seen the moon shining on a tower such as is here described. an owl might be peeping out from the ivy with which it was clad. of the observer the station might be such that the owl, now emerged from the mantling, presented itself to his eye in profile, skirting with the moon's limb. all this is well. the perspective is striking; and the picture well defined. but the poet was not contented. he felt a desire to enlarge it; and in executing his purpose gave it accumulation without improvement. the idea of the owl's _complaining_ is an artificial one; and the views on which it proceeds absurd. gray should have seen, that it but ill befitted the _bird of wisdom_ to complain to the moon of an intrusion which the moon could no more help than herself.' p. . johnson wrote of this book:--'i know little of it, for though it was sent me i never cut the leaves open. i had a letter with it representing it to me as my own work; in such an account to the publick there may be humour, but to myself it was neither serious nor comical. i suspect the writer to be wrong-headed.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . 'i was told,' wrote walpole (_letters_, viii. ), 'it would divert me, that it seems to criticise gray, but really laughs at johnson. i sent for it and skimmed it over, but am not at all clear what it means--no recommendation of anything. i rather think the author wishes to be taken by gray's admirers for a ridiculer of johnson, and by the tatter's for a censurer of gray.' '"the cleverest parody of the doctor's style of criticism," wrote sir walter scott, "is by john young of glasgow, and is very capital."' _croker corres_, ii. . [ ] see _ante_, iv. , for burke's description of croft's imitation. [ ] see _ante_, ii. . [ ] h.s.e. michael johnson, vir impavidus, constans, animosus, periculorum immemor, laborum patientissimus; fiducia christiana fortis, fervidusque; paterfamilias apprime strenuus; bibliopola admodum peritus; mente et libris et negotiis exculta; animo ita firmo, ut, rebus adversis diu conflictatus, nec sibi nec suis defuerit; lingua sic temperata, ut ei nihil quod aures vel pias, vel castas laesisset, aut dolor, vel voluptas unquam expresserit. natus cubleiae, in agro derbiensi, anno mdclvi. obiit mdccxxxi. apposita est sara, conjux, antiqua fordorum gente oriunda; quam domi sedulam, foris paucis notam; nulli molestam, mentis acumine et judicii subtilitate praecellentem; aliis multum, sibi parum indulgentem: aeternitati semper attentam, omne fere virtutis nomen commendavit. nata nortoniae regis, in agro varvicensi, anno mdclxix; obiit mdcclix. cum nathanaele, illorum filio, qui natus mdccxii, cum vires et animi et corporis multa pollicerentur, anno mdccxxxvii, vitam brevem pia morte finivit. johnson's _works_, i. . [ ] hawkins (_life_, p. ) says that he asked that the stone over his own grave 'might be so placed as to protect his body from injury.' harwood (_history of lichfield_, p. ) says that the stone in st. michael's was removed in , when the church was paved. a fresh one with the old inscriptions was placed in the church on the hundredth anniversary of johnson's death by robert thorp, esq., of buxton road house, macclesfield. the rev. james serjeantson, rector of st. michael's, suggests to me that the first stone was never set up. it is, he says, unlikely that such a memorial within a dozen years was treated so unworthily. moreover in and again in , during reparations of the church, a very careful search was made for it, but without result. there may have been, he thinks, some difficulty in finding the exact place of interment. the matter may have stood over till it was forgotten, and the mason, whose receipted bill shews that he was paid for the stone, may have used it for some other purpose. [ ] see _ante_, i. , and iv. . [ ] 'he would also,' says hawkins (_life_, p. ), 'have written in latin verse an epitaph for mr. garrick, but found himself unequal to the task of original poetic composition in that language.' [ ] in his _life of browne_, johnson wrote:--'the time will come to every human being when it must be known how well he can bear to die; and it has appeared that our author's fortitude did not desert him in the great hour of trial.' _works_, vi. . [ ] a club in london, founded by the learned and ingenious physician, dr. ash, in honour of whose name it was called eumelian, from the greek [greek: eumelias]; though it was warmly contended, and even put to a vote, that it should have the more obvious appellation of _fraxinean_, from the latin. boswell. this club, founded in , met at the blenheim tavern, bond-street. reynolds, boswell, burney, and windham were members. rose's _biog. dict._ ii. . [greek: eummeliaes] means _armed with good ashen spear_. [ ] mrs. thrale's _collection_, march , . vol. ii. p. . boswell. [ ] hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. . [ ] see what he said to mr. malone, p. of this volume. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. , note . [ ] _epistle to the romans_, vii. . [ ] 'johnson's passions,' wrote reynolds, 'were like those of other men, the difference only lay in his keeping a stricter watch over himself. in petty circumstances this [? his] wayward disposition appeared, but in greater things he thought it worth while to summon his recollection and be always on his guard.... [to them that loved him not] as rough as winter; to those who sought his love as mild as summer--many instances will readily occur to those who knew him intimately of the guard which he endeavoured always to keep over himself.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . see _ante_, i. , , , and iv. . [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, d ed. p. . [_post_, v. .] on the same subject, in his letter to mrs. thrale, dated nov. , , he makes the following just observation:--'life, to be worthy of a rational being, must be always in progression; we must always purpose to do more or better than in time past. the mind is enlarged and elevated by mere purposes, though they end as they began [in the original, _begin_], by airy contemplation. we compare and judge, though we do not practise.' boswell. [ ] _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, p. . [_post_, v. .] boswell. [ ] _psalm_ xix. . [ ] _pr. and med._ p. . boswell. [ ] _ib._ p. boswell [ ] _ib._ p. boswell [ ] _ib._ p. . boswell. [ ] pr. and med. p. . boswell. [ ] dr. johnson related, with very earnest approbation, a story of a gentleman, who, in an impulse of passion, overcame the virtue of a young woman. when she said to him, 'i am afraid we have done wrong!' he answered, 'yes, we have done wrong;--for i would not _debauch her mind_.' boswell. [ ] _st. john_, viii. . [ ] _pr. and med._ p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] boswell, on feb. , , describing to malone the progress of his book, says:--'i have now before me p. [of vol. ii.] in print; and pages of the copy [ms.] only is exhausted, and there remains , besides the _death_; as to which i shall be concise, though solemn. pray how shall i wind up? shall i give the _character_ from my _tour_ somewhat enlarged?' croker's _boswell_, p. . mr. croker is clearly in error in saying (_ib._ p. ) that 'mr. boswell's absence and the jealousy between him and some of johnson's other friends prevented his being able to give the particulars which he (mr. croker) has supplied in the appendix.' in this appendix is mr. hoole's narrative which boswell had seen and used (_post_, p. ). [ ] _psalm_ lxxxii. . [ ] see appendix e. [ ] 'on being asked in his last illness what physician he had sent for, "dr. heberden," replied he, "_ultimus romanorum_, the last of the learned physicians."' seward's _biographiana_, p. . [ ] mr. green related that when some of johnson's friends desired that dr. warren should be called in, he said they might call in whom they pleased; and when warren was called, at his going away johnson said, 'you have come in at the eleventh hour, but you shall be paid the same with your fellow-labourers. francis, put into dr. warren's coach a copy of the _english poets_.' croker. dr. warren ten years later attended boswell in his last illness. _letters of boswell_, p. . he was the great-grandfather of col. sir charles warren, g.c.m.g., f.r.s., chief commissioner of police. [ ] this bold experiment, sir john hawkins has related in such a manner as to suggest a charge against johnson of intentionally hastening his end; a charge so very inconsistent with his character in every respect, that it is injurious even to refute it, as sir john has thought it necessary to do. it is evident, that what johnson did in hopes of relief, indicated an extraordinary eagerness to retard his dissolution. boswell. murphy (_life_, p. ) says that 'for many years, when johnson was not disposed to enter into the conversation going forward, whoever sat near his chair might hear him repeating from shakespeare [_measure for measure_, act iii. sc. i]:-- "ay, but to die and go we know not where; to lie in cold obstruction and to rot; this sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clot; and the delighted spirit to bathe in fiery floods." and from milton [_paradise lost_, ii. ]:-- "who would lose though full of pain this intellectual being?"' johnson, the year before, at a time when he thought that he must submit to the surgeon's knife (_ante_, p. ), wrote to mrs. thrale:--'you would not have me for fear of pain perish in putrescence. i shall, i hope, with trust in eternal mercy lay hold of the possibility of life which yet remains.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . hawkins records (_life_, p. ) that one day johnson said to his doctor:--'how many men in a year die through the timidity of those whom they consult for health! i want length of life, and you fear giving me pain, which i care not for.' another day, 'when mr. cruikshank scarified his leg, he cried out, "deeper, deeper. i will abide the consequence; you are afraid of your reputation, but that is nothing to me." to those about him, he said, "you all pretend to love me, but you do not love me so well as i myself do." '_ib_. p. . windham (_diary_, p. ) says that he reproached heberden with being _timidorum timidissimus_. throughout he acted up to what he had said:--'i will be conquered, i will not capitulate.' _ante_, p. . [ ] macbeth, act v. sc. . [ ] satires, x. . paraphrased by johnson in the vanity of human wishes, at the lines beginning:-- 'pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind, obedient passions and a will resigned.' [ ] johnson, three days after his stroke of palsy (ante, p. ), wrote:--'when i waked, i found dr. brocklesby sitting by me. he fell to repeating juvenal's ninth satire; but i let him see that the province was mine.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] johnson, on his way to scotland, 'changed horses,' he wrote, 'at darlington, where mr. cornelius harrison, a cousin-german of mine, was perpetual curate. he was the only one of my relations who ever rose in fortune above penury, or in character above neglect.' _piozzi letters_, i. . malone, in a note to later editions, shews that johnson shortly before his death was trying to discover some of his poor relations. [ ] mr. windham records (_diary_, p. ) that the day before johnson made his will 'he recommended frank to him as to one who had will and power to protect him.' he continues, 'having obtained my assent to this, he proposed that frank should be called in; and desiring me to take him by the hand in token of the promise, repeated before him the recommendation he had just made of him, and the promise i had given to attend to it. [ ] johnson wrote five years earlier to mrs. thrale about her husband's will:--'do not let those fears prevail which you know to be unreasonable; a will brings the end of life no nearer.' _piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] 'in the name of god. amen. i, samuel johnson, being in full possession of my faculties, but fearing this night may put an end to my life, do ordain this my last will and testament. i bequeath to god, a soul polluted with many sins, but i hope purified by jesus christ. i leave seven hundred and fifty pounds in the hands of bennet langton, esq.; three hundred pounds in the hands of mr. barclay and mr. perkins, brewers; one hundred and fifty pounds in the hands of dr. percy, bishop of dromore; one thousand pounds, three _per cent._ annuities, in the publick funds; and one hundred pounds now lying by me in ready money: all these before-mentioned sums and property i leave, i say, to sir joshua reynolds, sir john hawkins, and dr. william scott, of doctors commons, in trust for the following uses:--that is to say, to pay to the representatives of the late william innys, bookseller, in st, paul's church-yard, the sum of two hundred pounds; to mrs. white, my female servant, one hundred pounds stock in the three _per cent_. annuitites aforesaid. the rest of the aforesaid sums of money and property, together with my books, plate, and household furniture, i leave to the before-mentioned sir joshua reynolds, sir john hawkins, and dr. william scott, also in trust, to the use of francis barber, my man-servant, a negro, in such a manner as they shall judge most fit and available to his benefit. and i appoint the aforesaid sir joshua reynolds, sir john hawkins, and dr. william scott, sole executors of this my last will and testament, hereby revoking all former wills and testaments whatever. in witness whereof i hereunto subscribe my name, and affix my seal, this eighth day of december, . 'sam johnson, (l.s.) 'signed, scaled, published, declared, and delivered, by the said testator, as his last will and testament, in the presence of us, the word two being first inserted in the opposite page. 'george strahan 'john desmoulins 'by way of codicil to my last will and testament, i, samuel johnson, give, devise, and bequeath, my messuage or tenement situate at litchfield, in the county of stafford, with the appertenances, in the tenure or occupation of mrs. bond, of lichfield aforesaid, or of mr. hinchman, her under-tenant, to my executors, in trust, to sell and dispose of the same; and the money arising from such sale i give and bequeath as follows, viz. to thomas and benjamin, the sons of fisher johnson, late of leicester, and ----- whiting, daughter of thomas johnson [f- ], late of coventry, and the grand-daughter of the said thomas johnson, one full and equal fourth part each; but in case there shall be more grand-daughters than one of the said thomas johnson, living at the time of my decease, i give and bequeath the part or share of that one to and equally between such grand-daughters. i give and bequeath to the rev. mr. rogers, of berkley, near froom, in the county of somerset, the sum of one hundred pounds, requesting him to apply the same towards the maintenance of elizabeth herne, a lunatick [f- ]. i also give and bequeath to my god-children, the son and daughter of mauritius lowe [f- ], painter, each of them, one hundred pounds of my stock in the three _per cent_, consolidated annuities, to be applied and disposed of by and at the discretion of my executors, in the education or settlement in the world of them my said legatees. also i give and bequeath to sir john hawkins, one of my executors, the annales ecclesiastici of baronius, and holinshed's and stowe's chronicles, and also an octavo common prayer-book. to bennet langton, esq. i give and bequeath my polyglot bible. to sir joshua reynolds, my great french dictionary, by martiniere, and my own copy of my folio english dictionary, of the last revision. to dr. william scott, one of my executors, the dictionnaire de commerce, and lectius's edition of the greek poets. to mr. windham [f- ], poetae graeci heroici per henricum stephanum. to the rev. mr. strahan, vicar of islington, in middlesex, mill's greek testament, beza's greek testament, by stephens, all my latin bibles, and my greek bible, by wechelius. to dr. heberden, dr. brocklesby, dr. butter, and mr. cruikshank, the surgeon who attended me, mr. holder, my apothecary, gerard hamilton, esq., mrs. gardiner [f- ], of snow-hill, mrs. frances reynolds, mr. hoole, and the reverend mr. hoole, his son, each a book at their election, to keep as a token of remembrance. i also give and bequeath to mr. john desmoulins [f- ], two hundred pounds consolidated three _per cent_, annuities: and to mr. sastres, the italian master [f- ], the sum of five pounds, to be laid out in books of piety for his own use. and whereas the said bennet langton hath agreed, in consideration of the sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds, mentioned in my will to be in his hands, to grant and secure an annuity of seventy pounds payable during the life of me and my servant, francis barber, and the life of the survivor of us, to mr. george stubbs, in trust for us; my mind and will is, that in case of my decease before the said agreement shall be perfected, the said sum of seven hundred and fifty pounds, and the bond for securing the said sum, shall go to the said francis barber; and i hereby give and bequeath to him the same, in lieu of the bequest in his favour, contained in my said will. and i hereby empower my executors to deduct and retain all expences that shall or may be incurred in the execution of my said will, or of this codicil thereto, out of such estate and effects as i shall die possessed of. all the rest, residue, and remainder, of my estate and effects, i give and bequeath to my said executors, in trust for the said francis barber, his executors and administrators. witness my hand and seal, this ninth day of december, . 'sam. johnson, (l. s.) 'signed, sealed, published, declared, and delivered, by the said samuel johnson, as, and for a codicil to his last will and testament, in the presence of us, who, in his presence, and at his request, and also in the presence of each other, have hereto subscribed our names as witnesses. 'john copley. 'william gibson. 'henry cole.' upon these testamentary deeds it is proper to make a few observations. his express declaration with his dying breath as a christian, as it had been often practised in such solemn writings, was of real consequence from this great man; for the conviction of a mind equally acute and strong, might well overbalance the doubts of others, who were his contemporaries. the expression _polluted_, may, to some, convey an impression of more than ordinary contamination; but that is not warranted by its genuine meaning, as appears from _the rambler_, no. [f- ]. the same word is used in the will of dr. sanderson, bishop of lincoln [f- ], who was piety itself. his legacy of two hundred pounds to the representatives of mr. innys, bookseller, in st. paul's church-yard [f- ], proceeded from a very worthy motive. he told sir john hawkins, that his father having become a bankrupt, mr. innys had assisted him with money or credit to continue his business. 'this, (said he,) i consider as an obligation on me to be grateful to his descendants [f- ].' the amount of his property proved to be considerably more than he had supposed it to be. sir john hawkins estimates the bequest to francis barber at a sum little short of fifteen hundred pounds, including an annuity of seventy pounds to be paid to him by mr. langton, in consideration of seven hundred and fifty pounds, which johnson had lent to that gentleman. sir john seems not a little angry at this bequest, and mutters 'a caveat against ostentatious bounty and favour to negroes [f- ].' but surely when a man has money entirely of his own acquisition, especially when he has no near relations, he may, without blame, dispose of it as he pleases, and with great propriety to a faithful servant. mr. barber, by the recommendation of his master, retired to lichfield, where he might pass the rest of his days in comfort. it has been objected that johnson has omitted many of his best friends, when leaving books to several as tokens of his last remembrance. the names of dr. adams, dr. taylor [f- ], dr. burney, mr. hector, mr. murphy, the authour of this work, and others who were intimate with him, are not to be found in his will. this may be accounted for by considering, that as he was very near his dissolution at the time, he probably mentioned such as happened to occur to him; and that he may have recollected, that he had formerly shewn others such proofs of his regard, that it was not necessary to crowd his will with their names. mrs. lucy porter was much displeased that nothing was left to her; but besides what i have now stated, she should have considered, that she had left nothing to johnson by her will, which was made during his life-time, as appeared at her decease. his enumerating several persons in one group, and leaving them 'each a book at their election,' might possibly have given occasion to a curious question as to the order of choice, had they not luckily fixed on different books. his library, though by no means handsome in its appearance, was sold by mr. christie, for two hundred and forty-seven pounds, nine shillings [f- ]; many people being desirous to have a book which had belonged to johnson. in many of them he had written little notes: sometimes tender memorials of his departed wife; as, 'this was dear tetty's book:' sometimes occasional remarks of different sorts. mr. lysons, of clifford's inn, has favoured me with the two following: in _holy rules and helps to devotion_, by bryan duppa, lord bishop of winton, '_preces quidam (? quidem) videtur diligenter tractasse; spero non inauditus (? inauditas).'_ in _the rosicrucian infallible axiomata_, by john heydon, gent., prefixed to which are some verses addressed to the authour, signed ambr. waters, a.m. coll. ex. oxon. '_these latin verses were written to hobbes by bathurst, upon his treatise on human nature, and have no relation to the book.--an odd fraud_.'--boswell. [note: see appendix f for notes on this footnote.] [ ] 'he burned,' writes mrs. piozzi, 'many letters in the last week, i am told, and those written by his mother drew from him a flood of tears. mr. sastres saw him cast a melancholy look upon their ashes, which he took up and examined to see if a word was still legible.'--_piozzi letters_, ii. . [ ] boswell in his _hebrides_ (_post_, v. ) says that johnson, starting northwards on his tour, left in a drawer in boswell's house 'one volume of a pretty full and curious _diary of his life_, of which i have,' he continues, 'a few fragments.' the other volume, we may conjecture, johnson took with him, for boswell had seen both, and apparently seen them only once. he mentions (_ante_, i. ) that these 'few fragments' had been transferred to him by the residuary legatee (francis barber). one large fragment, which was published after barber's death, he could never have seen, for he never quotes from it (_ante_, i. , note ). [ ] one of these volumes, sir john hawkins informs us, he put into his pocket; for which the excuse he states is, that he meant to preserve it from falling into the hands of a person whom he describes so as to make it sufficiently clear who is meant; 'having strong reasons (said he,) to suspect that this man might find and make an ill use of the book.' why sir john should suppose that the gentleman alluded to would act in this manner, he has not thought fit to explain. but what he did was not approved of by johnson; who, upon being acquainted of it without delay by a friend, expressed great indignation, and warmly insisted on the book being delivered up; and, afterwards, in the supposition of his missing it, without knowing by whom it had been taken, he said, 'sir, i should have gone out of the world distrusting half mankind.' sir john next day wrote a letter to johnson, assigning reasons for his conduct; upon which johnson observed to mr. langton, 'bishop sanderson could not have dictated a better letter. i could almost say, _melius est sic penituisse quam non errâsse_.' the agitation into which johnson was thrown by this incident, probably made him hastily burn those precious records which must ever be regretted. boswell. according to mr. croker, steevens was the man whom hawkins said that he suspected. porson, in his witty _panegyrical epistle on hawkins v. johnson_ (_gent. mag._ , pp. - , and _porson tracts_, p. ), says:--'i shall attempt a translation [of _melius est_, &c.] for the benefit of your mere english readers:--_there is more joy over a sinner that repenteth than over a just person that needeth no repentance_. and we know from an authority not to be disputed (hawkins's _life_, p. ) that _johnson was a great lover of penitents_. "god put it in the mind to take it hence, that thou might'st win the more thy [johnson's] love, pleading so wisely in excuse of it." [ ] _henry iv_, act iv. sc. . [ ] 'tibullus addressed cynthia in this manner:-- "_te spectem, suprema, mihi cum venerit hora, te teneam moriens deficiente mamu. lib. i. el. i. . before my closing eyes dear cynthia stand, held weakly by my fainting, trembling hand."' johnson's works, iv. . [ ] windham was scarcely a statesman as yet, though for a few months of the year before he had been chief secretary for ireland (_ante_, p ). he was in parliament, but he had never spoken. his _diary_ shews that he had no 'important occupations.' on dec. , for instance, he records (p. ):--'came down about ten; read reviews, wrote to mrs. siddons, and then went to the ice; came home only in time to dress and go to my mother's to dinner.' see _ante_, p. , for his interest in balloons. [ ] 'my father,' writes miss burney, 'saw him once while i was away, and carried mr. burke with him, who was desirous of paying his respects to him once more in person. he rallied a little while they were there; and mr. burke, when they left him, said to my father:--"his work is almost done, and well has he done it."' mme. d'arblay's _diary_, ii. . burke, in , said in parliament that 'dr. johnson's virtues were equal to his transcendent talents, and his friendship he valued as the greatest consolation and happiness of his life.' _parl. debates_, xxx. . [ ] on the same undoubted authority, i give a few articles, which should have been inserted in chronological order; but which, now that they are before me, i should be sorry to omit:-- 'in , dr. johnson had a particular inclination to have been engaged as an assistant to the reverend mr. budworth, then head master of the grammar-school, at brewood, in staffordshire, "an excellent person, who possessed every talent of a perfect instructor of youth, in a degree which, (to use the words of one of the brightest ornaments of literature, the reverend dr. hurd, bishop of worcester,) has been rarely found in any of that profession since the days of quintilian." mr. budworth, "who was less known in his life-time, from that obscure situation to which the caprice of fortune oft condemns the most accomplished characters, than his highest merit deserved," had been bred under mr. blackwell [blackwall], at market bosworth, where johnson was some time an usher [_ante_, i. ]; which might naturally lead to the application. mr. budworth was certainly no stranger to the learning or abilities of johnson; as he more than once lamented his having been under the necessity of declining the engagement, from an apprehension that the paralytick affection, under which our great philologist laboured through life, might become the object of imitation or of ridicule, among his pupils.' captain budworth, his grandson, has confirmed to me this anecdote. 'among the early associates of johnson, at st. john's gate, was samuel boyse [g- ], well known by his ingenious productions; and not less noted for his imprudence. it was not unusual for boyse to be a customer to the pawnbroker. on one of these occasions, dr. johnson collected a sum of money to redeem his friend's clothes, which in two days after were pawned again. "the sum, (said johnson,) was collected by sixpences, at a time when to me sixpence was a serious consideration [g- ]." 'speaking one day of a person for whom he had a real friendship, but in whom vanity was somewhat too predominant, he observed, that "kelly [g- ] was so fond of displaying on his side-board the plate which he possessed, that he added to it his spurs. for my part, (said he,) i never was master of a pair of spurs, but once; and they are now at the bottom of the ocean. by the carelessness of boswell's servant, they were dropped from the end of the boat, on our return from the isle of sky [g- ]."' the late reverend mr. samuel badcock [g- ], having been introduced to dr. johnson, by mr. nichols, some years before his death, thus expressed himself in a letter to that gentleman:-- 'how much i am obliged to you for the favour you did me in introducing me to dr. johnson! _tantùm vìdi virgilium_ [g- ]. but to have seen him, and to have received a testimony of respect from him, was enough. i recollect all the conversation, and shall never forget one of his expressions. speaking of dr. p---- [priestley], (whose writings, i saw, he estimated at a low rate,) he said, "you have proved him as deficient in _probity_ as he is in learning [g- ]." i called him an "index-scholar [g- ];" but he was not willing to allow him a claim even to that merit. he said, that "he borrowed from those who had been borrowers themselves, and did not know that the mistakes he adopted had been answered by others." i often think of our short, but precious, visit to this great man. i shall consider it as a kind of an _aera_ in my life.' boswell. [note: see appendix g for notes on this footnote.] [ ] see _ante_, i. , . [ ] he wrote to dr. taylor on feb. , :--'keep yourself cheerful. lie in bed with a lamp, and when you cannot sleep and are beginning to think, light your candle and read. at least light your candle; a man is perhaps never so much harrassed (_sic_) by his own mind in the light as in the dark.' _notes and queries_, th s. v. . [ ] mr. croker records 'the following communication from mr. hoole himself':--'i must mention an incident which shews how ready johnson was to make amends for any little incivility. when i called upon him, the morning after he had pressed me rather roughly to read _louder_, he said, "i was peevish yesterday; you must forgive me: when you are as old and as sick as i am, perhaps you may be peevish too." i have heard him make many apologies of this kind.' [ ] 'to his friend dr. burney he said a few hours before he died, taking the doctor's hands within his, and casting his eyes towards heaven with a look of the most fervent piety, "my dear friend, while you live do all the good you can." seward's _biographiana,_ p. [ ] mr. hoole, senior, records of this day:--'dr. johnson exhorted me to lead a better life than he had done. "a better life than you, my dear sir:" i repeated. he replied warmly, "don't compliment not." croker's _boswell_, p. [ ] see _ ante_, p. [ ] the french historian, jacques-auguste de thou, - , author of _historia sui temporis_ in books. [ ] see _ante,_ ii. , note . [ ] mr. hutton was occasionally admitted to the royal breakfast-table. "hutton," said the king to him one morning, "is it true that you moravians marry without any previous knowledge of each other?" "yes, may it please your majesty," returned hutton; "our marriages are quite royal" hannah more's _memoirs_, i. . one of his female-missionaries for north american said to dr. johnson:--'whether my saviour's service may be best carried on here, or on the coast of labrador, 'tis mr. hutton's business to settle. i will do my part either in a brick-house or a snow-house with equal alacrity.' piozzi's _synonymy_, ii. . he is described also in the _memoirs of dr. burney_, i. , . [ ] _ante_, ii. . [ ] burke said of hussey, who was his friend and correspondent, that in his character he had made 'that very rare union of the enlightened statesman with the ecclesiastic.' burke's _corres_. iv. . [ ] boswell refers, i believe, to fordyce's epitaph on johnson in the _gent. mag._ , p. , or possibly to an _ode_ on p. of his poems. [ ] 'being become very weak and helpless it was thought necessary that a man should watch with him all night; and one was found in the neighbourhood for half a crown a night.' hawkins's _life of johnson_, p. . [ ] it was on nov. that he repeated these lines. see croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] _british synonymy_, i. . mrs. piozzi, to add to the wonder, says that these verses were 'improviso,' forgetting that johnson wrote to her on aug , (_piozzi letters_, ii. ):--'you have heard in the papers how --- is come to age. i have enclosed a short song of congratulation which you must not shew to anybody. it is odd that it should come into anybody's head. i hope you will read it with candour; it is, i believe, one of the author's first essays in that way of writing, and a beginner is always to be treated with tenderness.' that it was sir john lade who had come of age is shewn by the entry of his birth, aug. , , in the _gent. mag._ , p. . he was the nephew and ward of mr. thrale, who seemed to think that miss burney would make him a good wife. (mme. d'arblay's _diary_, i. .) according to mr. hayward (_life of piozzi_, i. ) it was lade who having asked johnson whether he advised him to marry, received as answer: 'i would advise no man to marry, sir, who is not likely to propagate understanding.' see _ante_, ii. , note . mr. hayward adds that 'he married a woman of the town, became a celebrated member of the four-in-hand club, and contrived to waste the whole of a fine fortune before he died.' in campbell's _chancellors_ (ed. , v. ) a story is told of sir john ladd, who is, i suppose, the same man. the prince of wales in asked lord thurlow to dinner, and also ladd. 'when "the old lion" arrived the prince went into the ante-room to meet him, and apologised for the party being larger than he had intended, but added, "that sir john was an old friend of his, and he could not avoid asking him to dinner," to which thurlow, in his growling voice, answered, "i have no objection, sir, to sir john ladd in his proper place, which i take to be your royal highness's coach-box, and not your table."' [ ] _british synonymy_ was published in , later therefore than boswell's first and second editions. in both these the latter half of this paragraph ran as follows:--"from the specimen which mrs. piozzi has exhibited of it (_anecdotes_, p. ) it is much to be wished that the world could see the whole. indeed i can speak from my own knowledge; for having had the pleasure to read it, i found it to be a piece of exquisite satire conveyed in a strain of pointed vivacity and humour, and in a manner of which no other instance is to be found in johnson's writings. after describing the ridiculous and ruinous career of a wild spendthrift he _consoles_ him with this reflection:-- "you may hang or drown at last."' [ ] sir john. [ ]'"les morts n'écrivent point," says madame de maintenon.' hannah more's _memoirs_, i. . the note that johnson received 'was,' says mr. hoole, 'from mr. davies, the bookseller, and mentioned a present of some pork; upon which the doctor said, in a manner that seemed as if he thought it ill-timed, "too much of this," or some such expression.' croker's _boswell_, p. . [ ] sir walter scott says that 'reynolds observed the charge given him by johnson on his death-bed not to use his pencil of a sunday for a considerable time, but afterwards broke it, being persuaded by some person who was impatient for a sitting that the doctor had no title to exact such a promise.' croker's _corres_. ii. . 'reynolds used to say that "the pupil in art who looks for the sunday with pleasure as an idle day will never make a painter."' northcote's _reynolds_, i. . 'dr. johnson,' said lord eldon, 'sent me a message on his death-bed, to request that i would attend public worship every sunday.' twiss's _eldon_, i. . the advice was not followed, for 'when a lawyer, a warm partisan of the chancellor, called him one of the pillars of the church; "no," said another lawyer, "he may be one of its buttresses; but certainly not one of its pillars, for he is never found within it."' _ib_. iii. . lord campbell (_lives of the chancellors_, vii. ) says:--lord eldon was never present at public worship in london from one year's end to the other. pleading in mitigation before lord ellenborough that he attended public worship in the country, he received the rebuke, "as if there were no god in town.'" [ ] reynolds records:--'during his last illness, when all hope was at an end, he appeared to be quieter and more resigned. his approaching dissolution was always present to his mind. a few days before he died, mr. langton and myself only present, he said he had been a great sinner, but he hoped he had given no bad example to his friends; that he had some consolation in reflecting that he had never denied christ, and repeated the text, "whoever denies me, &c." [_st. matthew_ x. .] we were both very ready to assure him that we were conscious that we were better and wiser from his life and conversation; and that so far from denying christ, he had been, in this age, his greatest champion.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] hannah more (_memoirs_ i. ) says that johnson, having put up a fervent prayer that brocklesby might become a sincere christian, 'caught hold of his hand with great earnestness, and cried, "doctor, you do not say _amen_." the doctor looked foolishly, but after a pause cried "_amen_"' her account, however, is often not accurate. [ ] windham records (_diary_, p. ) that on the night of the th he urged him to take some sustenance, 'and desisted only upon his exclaiming, "it is all very childish; let us hear no more of it."' on his pressing him a second time, he answered that 'he refused no sustenance but inebriating sustenance.' windham thereupon asked him to take some milk, but 'he recurred to his general refusal, and begged that there might be an end of it. i then said that i hoped he would forgive my earnestness; when he replied eagerly, "that from me nothing would be necessary by way of apology;" adding with great fervour, in words which i shall (i hope) never forget--"god bless you, my dear windham, through jesus christ;" and concluding with a wish that we might meet in some humble portion of that happiness which god might finally vouchsafe to repentant sinners. these were the last words i ever heard him speak. i hurried out of the room with tears in my eyes, and more affected than i had been on any former occasion.' it was at a later hour in this same night that johnson 'scarified himself in three places. on mr. desmoulins making a difficulty of giving him the lancet he said, "don't you, if you have any scruples; but i will compel frank," and on mr. desmoulins attempting to prevent frank from giving it to him, and at last to restrain his hands, he grew very outrageous, so much so as to call frank "scoundrel" and to threaten mr. desmoulins that he would stab him.' _ib_. p. . [ ] mr. strahan, mentioning 'the anxious fear', which seized johnson, says, that 'his friends who knew his integrity observed it with equal astonishment and concern.' he adds that 'his foreboding dread of the divine justice by degrees subsided into a pious trust and humble hope in the divine mercy.' _pr. and med._ preface, p. xv. [ ] the change of his sentiments with regard to dr. clarke, is thus mentioned to me in a letter from the late dr. adams, master of pembroke college, oxford:--'the doctor's prejudices were the strongest, and certainly in another sense the weakest, that ever possessed a sensible man. you know his extreme zeal for orthodoxy. but did you ever hear what he told me himself? that he had made it a rule not to admit dr. clarke's name in his _dictionary_. this, however, wore off. at some distance of time he advised with me what books he should read in defence of the christian religion. i recommended clarke's _evidences of natural and revealed religion_, as the best of the kind; and i find in what is called his _prayers and meditations_, that he was frequently employed in the latter part of his time in reading clarke's _sermons_. boswell. see _ante_, i. . [ ] the reverend mr. strahan took care to have it preserved, and has inserted it in _prayers and meditations_, p. . boswell. [ ] see _ante_, iii. . [ ] the counterpart of johnson's end and of one striking part of his character may be found in mr. fearing in _the pilgrim's progress_, part ii. '"mr. fearing was," said honesty, "a very zealous man. difficulty, lions, or vanity fair he feared not at all; it was only sin, death, and hell that were to him a terror, because he had some doubts about his interest in that celestial country." "i dare believe," greatheart replied, "that, as the proverb is, he could have bit a firebrand, had it stood in his way; but the things with which he was oppressed no man ever yet could shake off with ease."' see _ante_, ii. , note . [ ] her sister's likeness as hope nursing love was painted by reynolds. northcote's _reynolds_, i. . [ ] the following letter, written with an agitated hand, from the very chamber of death, by mr. langton, and obviously interrupted by his feelings, will not unaptly close the story of so long a friendship. the letter is not addressed, but mr. langton's family believe it was intended for mr. boswell. 'my dear sir,--after many conflicting hopes and fears respecting the event of this heavy return of illness which has assailed our honoured friend, dr. johnson, since his arrival from lichfield, about four days ago the appearances grew more and more awful, and this afternoon at eight o'clock, when i arrived at his house to see how he should be going on, i was acquainted at the door, that about three quarters of an hour before, he breathed his last. i am now writing in the room where his venerable remains exhibit a spectacle, the interesting solemnity of which, difficult as it would be in any sort to find terms to express, so to you, my dear sir, whose own sensations will paint it so strongly, it would be of all men the most superfluous to attempt to--.'--croker. the interruption of the note was perhaps due to a discovery made by langton. hawkins says, 'at eleven, the evening of johnson's death, mr. langton came to me, and in an agony of mind gave me to understand that our friend had wounded himself in several parts of the body.' hawkins's _life_, p. . to the dying man, 'on the last day of his existence on this side the grave the desire of life,' to use murphy's words (_life_, p. ), 'had returned with all its former vehemence.' in the hope of drawing off the dropsical water he gave himself these wounds (see _ante_, p. ). he lost a good deal of blood, and no doubt hastened his end. langton must have suspected that johnson intentionally shortened his life. [ ] servant to the right honourable william windham. boswell. [ ] sir joshua reynolds and paoli were among the mourners. among the nichols papers in the british museum is preserved an invitation card to the funeral. [ ] dr. burney wrote to the rev. t. twining on christmas day, :--'the dean and chapter of westminster abbey lay all the blame on sir john hawkins for suffering johnson to be so unworthily interred. the knight's first inquiry at the abbey in giving orders, as the most acting executor, was--"what would be the difference in the expense between a public and private funeral?" and was told only a few pounds to the prebendaries, and about ninety pairs of gloves to the choir and attendants; and he then determined that, "as dr. johnson had no music in him, he should choose the cheapest manner of interment." and for this reason there was no organ heard, or burial service sung; for which he suffers the dean and chapter to be abused in all the newspapers, and joins in their abuse when the subject is mentioned in conversation.' burney mentions a report that hawkins had been slandering johnson. _recreations and studies of a country clergyman of the xviii century_, p. . dr. charles burney, jun., had written the day after the funeral:--'the executor, sir john hawkins, did not manage things well, for there was no anthem or choir service performed--no lesson--but merely what is read over every old woman that is buried by the parish. dr. taylor read the service but so-so.' johnstone's _parr_, i. . [ ] pope's _essay on man_, iv. . see _ante_, iii. , and iv. . [ ] on the subject of johnson i may adopt the words of sir john harrington, concerning his venerable tutor and diocesan, dr. john still, bishop of bath and wells; 'who hath given me some helps, more hopes, all encouragements in my best studies: to whom i never came but i grew more religious; from whom i never went, but i parted better instructed. of him therefore, my acquaintance, my friend, my instructor, if i speak much, it were not to be marvelled; if i speak frankly, it is not to be blamed; and though i speak partially, it were to be pardoned.' _nugoe antiquoe_, vol. i. p. . there is one circumstance in sir john's character of bishop still, which is peculiarly applicable to johnson: 'he became so famous a disputer, that the learnedest were even afraid to dispute with him; and he finding his own strength, could not stick to warn them in their arguments to take heed to their answers, like a perfect fencer that will tell aforehand in which button he will give the venew, or like a cunning chess-player that will appoint aforehand with which pawn and in what place he will give the mate.' _ibid_. boswell. [ ] the late right hon. william gerard hamilton. malone. [ ] 'his death,' writes hannah more (_memoirs_, i. ), 'makes a kind of era in literature.' 'one who had long known him said of him:--'in general you may tell what the man to whom you are speaking will say next. this you can never do of johnson.' johnson's _works_ ( ), xi. . [ ] beside the dedications to him by dr. goldsmith [_ante_, ii. ], the reverend dr. francklin [_ante_, iv. ], and the reverend mr. wilson [_ante_, iv. ], which i have mentioned according to their dates, there was one by a lady, of a versification of _aningait and ajut_, and one by the ingenious mr. walker [_ante_, iv. ], of his _rhetorical grammar_. i have introduced into this work several compliments paid to him in the writings of his contemporaries; but the number of them is so great, that we may fairly say that there was almost a general tribute. let me not be forgetful of the honour done to him by colonel myddleton, of gwaynynog, near denbigh; who, on the banks of a rivulet in his park, where johnson delighted to stand and repeat verses, erected an urn with the following inscription: 'this spot was often dignified by the presence of samuel johnson, ll.d. whose moral writings, exactly conformable to the precepts of christianity, gave ardour to virtue and confidence to truth [h- ].' as no inconsiderable circumstance of his fame, we must reckon the extraordinary zeal of the artists to extend and perpetuate his image. i can enumerate a bust by mr. nollekens, and the many casts which are made from it; several pictures by sir joshua reynolds, from one of which, in the possession of the duke of dorset, mr. humphry executed a beautiful miniature in enamel; one by mrs. frances reynolds, sir joshua's sister; one by mr. zoffani; and one by mr. opie [h- ]; and the following engravings of his portrait: . one by cooke, from sir joshua, for the proprietors' edition of his folio _dictionary_.-- . one from ditto, by ditto, for their quarto edition.-- . one from opie, by heath, for harrison's edition of his _dictionary_.-- . one from nollekens' bust of him, by bartolozzi, for fielding's quarto edition of his _dictionary_.-- . one small, from harding, by trotter, for his _beauties_.-- . one small, from sir joshua, by trotter, for his _lives of the poets_.-- . one small, from sir joshua, by hall, for _the rambler_.-- . one small, from an original drawing, in the possession of mr. john simco, etched by trotter, for another edition of his _lives of the poets_.-- . one small, no painter's name, etched by taylor, for his _johnsoniana_.-- . one folio whole-length, with his oak-stick, as described in boswell's _tour_, drawn and etched by trotter.-- . one large mezzotinto, from sir joshua, by doughty [h- ].--l . one large roman head, from sir joshua, by marchi.-- . one octavo, holding a book to his eye, from sir joshua, by hall, for his _works_.-- . one small, from a drawing from the life, and engraved by trotter, for his _life_ published by kearsley.-- . one large, from opie, by mr. townley, (brother of mr. townley, of the commons,) an ingenious artist, who resided some time at berlin, and has the honour of being engraver to his majesty the king of prussia. this is one of the finest mezzotintos that ever was executed; and what renders it of extraordinary value, the plate was destroyed after four or five impressions only were taken off. one of them is in the possession of sir william scott [h- ]. mr. townley has lately been prevailed with to execute and publish another of the same, that it may be more generally circulated among the admirers of dr. johnson.-- . one large, from sir joshua's first picture of him, by heath, for this work, in quarto.-- . one octavo, by baker, for the octavo edition.-- . and one for lavater's _essay on physiognomy_, in which johnson's countenance is analysed upon the principles of that fanciful writer.--there are also several seals with his head cut on them, particularly a very fine one by that eminent artist, edward burch, esq. r.a. in the possession of the younger dr. charles burney. let me add, as a proof of the popularity of his character, that there are copper pieces struck at birmingham, with his head impressed on them, which pass current as half-pence there, and in the neighbouring parts of the country. boswell. [note: see appendix h for notes on this footnote.] [ ] it is not yet published.--in a letter to me, mr. agutter says, 'my sermon before the university was more engaged with dr. johnson's _moral_ than his _intellectual_ character. it particularly examined his fear of death, and suggested several reasons for the apprehension of the good, and the indifference of the infidel in their last hours; this was illustrated by contrasting the death of dr. johnson and mr. hume: the text was job xxi. - .' boswell. it was preached on july , , and not at johnson's death. it is entitled _on the difference between the deaths of the righteous and the wicked. illustrated in the instance of dr. samuel johnson and david hume, esq._ the text is from job xxi. (not )- . it was published in . neither johnson nor hume is mentioned in the sermon itself by name. its chief, perhaps its sole, merit is its brevity. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iii. . [ ] 'may , . after the doctor's death, burke, sir joshua reynolds, and boswell sent an ambling circular-letter to me begging subscriptions for a monument for him. i would not deign to write an answer; but sent down word by my footman, as i would have done to parish officers, with a brief, that i would not subscribe.' horace walpole's _letters_, ix. . in malone's correspondence are complaints of the backwardness of the members of the literary club 'to pay the amounts nominally subscribed by them.' prior's _goldsmith_, ii. . [ ] it was, says malone, owing to reynolds that the monument was erected in st. paul's. in his _journey to flanders_he had lamented that sculpture languished in england, and was almost confined to monuments to eminent men. but even in these it had not fair play, for westminster abbey was so full, that the recent monuments appeared ridiculous being stuck up in odd holes and corners. on the other hand st. paul's looked forlorn and desolate. here monuments should be erected, under the direction of the royal academy. he took advantage of johnson's death to make a beginning with the plan which he had here sketched, and induced his friends to give up their intention of setting up the monument in the abbey. reynolds's _works_, ed. , ii. . 'he asked dr. parr--but in vain--to include in the epitaph johnson's title of professor of ancient literature to the royal academy; as it was on this pretext that he persuaded the academicians to subscribe a hundred guineas.' johnstone's _parr_, iv. . see _ante_, ii. , where the question was raised whose monument should be first erected in st. paul's, and johnson proposed milton's. [ ] the reverend dr. parr, on being requested to undertake it, thus expressed himself in a letter to william seward, esq.: 'i leave this mighty task to some hardier and some abler writer. the variety and splendour of johnson's attainments, the peculiarities of his character, his private virtues, and his literary publications, fill me with confusion and dismay, when i reflect upon the confined and difficult species of composition, in which alone they can be expressed, with propriety, upon his monument.' but i understand that this great scholar, and warm admirer of johnson, has yielded to repeated solicitations, and executed the very difficult undertaking. boswell. dr. johnson's monument, consisting of a colossal figure leaning against a column, has since the death of our authour been placed in st. paul's cathedral. the epitaph was written by the rev. dr. parr, and is as follows: samveli iohnson grammatico et critico scriptorvm anglicorvm litterate perito poetae lvminibvs sententiarvm et ponderibvs verborvm admirabili magistro virtvtis gravissimo homini optimo et singvlaris exempli qvi vixit ann lxxv mens il. dieb xiii decessit idib decembr ann christ cio iocc lxxxiiii sepvlt in aed sanct petr westmonasteriens xiii kal ianvar ann christ cio iocc lxxxv amici et sodales litterarii pecvnia conlata h m facivnd cvraver. on a scroll in his hand are the following words: [greek: enmakaressipononantaxioseihamoibh]. on one side of the monument--- faciebat johannes bacon scvlptor ann. christ. m.dcc.-lxxxxv. the subscription for this monument, which cost eleven hundred guineas, was begun by the literary club. malone. see appendix i. [ ] '"laetus sum laudari me," inquit hector, opinor apud naevium, "abs te, pater, a laudato viro."' cicero, _ep. ad fam_. xv. . [ ] to prevent any misconception on this subject, mr. malone, by whom these lines were obligingly communicated, requests me to add the following remark:-- 'in justice to the late mr. flood, now himself wanting, and highly meriting, an epitaph from his country, to which his transcendent talents did the highest honour, as well as the most important service; it should be observed that these lines were by no means intended as a regular monumental inscription for dr. johnson. had he undertaken to write an appropriated and discriminative epitaph for that excellent and extraordinary man, those who knew mr. flood's vigour of mind, will have no doubt that he would have produced one worthy of his illustrious subject. but the fact was merely this: in dec. , after a large subscription had been made for dr. johnson's monument, to which mr. flood liberally contributed, mr. malone happened to call on him at his house, in berners-street, and the conversation turning on the proposed monument, mr. malone maintained that the epitaph, by whomsoever it should be written, ought to be in latin. mr. flood thought differently. the next morning, in the postscript to a note on another subject, he mentioned that he continued of the same opinion as on the preceding day, and subjoined the lines above given.' boswell. cowper also composed an epitaph for johnson--though not one of much merit. see southey's _cowper_, v. . [ ] as i do not see any reason to give a different character of my illustrious friend now, from what i formerly gave, the greatest part of the sketch of him in my _journal of a tour to the hebrides_, is here adopted. boswell. [ ] see _ante_, i. . [ ] for his fox-hunting see _ante_, i. , note i. [ ] _lucretius_, i. . [ ] see ante, i. . [ ] 'he was always indulgent to the young, he never attacked the unassuming, nor meant to terrify the diffident.' mme. d'arblay's _diary_ ii. . [ ] in the _olla podrida_, a collection of essays published at oxford, there is an admirable paper upon the character of johnson, written by the reverend dr. home, the last excellent bishop of norwich. the following passage is eminently happy: 'to reject wisdom, because the person of him who communicates it is uncouth, and his manners are inelegant;--what is it, but to throw away a pine-apple, and assign for a reason the roughness of its coat?' boswell. the _olla podrida_ was published in weekly numbers in . boswell's quotation is from no. . [ ] 'the _english dictionary_ was written ... amidst inconvenience distraction, in sickness and in sorrow.' preface to johnson's _dictionary, works_, v. . [ ] 'for unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required.' _luke_, xii. . [ ] 'if in this life only we have hope in christ, we are of all men most miserable.' i _corinthians_, xv. . [ ] see ante, ii. , note . [ ] though a perfect resemblance of johnson is not to be found in any age, parts of his character are admirably expressed by clarendon in drawing that of lord falkland, whom the noble and masterly historian describes at his seat near oxford;--'such an immenseness of wit, such a solidity of judgement, so infinite a fancy, bound in by a most logical ratiocination.--his acquaintance was cultivated by the most polite and accurate men, so that his house was an university in less volume, whither they came, not so much for repose as study, and to examine and refine those grosser propositions, which laziness and consent made current in conversation.' bayle's account of menage may also be quoted as exceedingly applicable to the great subject of this work:--'his illustrious friends erected a very glorious monument to him in the collection entitled menagiana. those who judge of things aright, will confess that this collection is very proper to shew the extent of genius and learning which was the character of menage. and i may be bold to say, that _the excellent works he published will not distinguish him from other learned men so advantageously as this_. to publish books of great learning, to make greek and latin verses exceedingly well turned, is not a common talent, i own; neither is it extremely rare, it is incomparably more difficult to find men who can furnish discourse about an infinite number of things, and who can diversify them an hundred ways. how many authours are there, who are admired for their works, on account of the vast learning that is displayed in them, who are not able to sustain a conversation. those who know menage only by his books, might think he resembled those learned men; but if you shew the menagiana, you distinguish him from them, and make him known by a talent which is given to very few learned men. there it appears that he was a man who spoke off-hand a thousand good things. his memory extended to what was ancient and modern; to the court and to the city; to the dead and to the living languages; to things serious and things jocose; in a word, to a thousand sorts of subjects. that which appeared a trifle to some readers of the _menagiana_, who did not consider circumstances, caused admiration in other readers, who minded the difference between what a man speaks without preparation, and that which he prepares for the press. and, therefore, we cannot sufficiently commend the care which his illustrious friends took to erect a monument so capable of giving him immortal glory. they were not obliged to rectify what they had heard him say; for, in so doing, they had not been faithful historians of his conversations.' boswell. boswell's quotation from clarendon (ed. , iv. ) differs somewhat from the original. [ ] see _ante_, ii. , and iv. . [ ] see _ante_, p. iii. [ ] to this finely-drawn character we may add the noble testimony of sir joshua reynolds:--'his pride had no meanness in it; there was nothing little or mean about him.' taylor's _reynolds_, ii. . [ ] in johnson's character of boerhaave there is much that applies equally well to himself. 'thus died boerhaave, a man formed by nature for great designs, and guided by religion in the exertion of his abilities. he was of a robust and athletick constitution of body, so hardened by early severities and wholesome fatigue that he was insensible of any sharpness of air, or inclemency of weather. he was tall, and remarkable for extraordinary strength. there was in his air and motion something rough and artless, but so majestick and great at the same time, that no man ever looked upon him without veneration, and a kind of tacit submission to the superiority of his genius.... he was never soured by calumny and detraction, nor ever thought it necessary to confute them; "for they are sparks," said he, "which, if you do not blow them, will go out of themselves."... he was not to be overawed or depressed by the presence, frowns, or insolence of great men; but persisted, on all occasions, in the right with a resolution always present and always calm.... nor was he unacquainted with the art of recommending truth by elegance, and embellishing the philosopher with polite literature.... he knew the importance of his own writings to mankind, and lest he might by a roughness and barbarity of style, too frequent among men of great learning, disappoint his own intentions, and make his labours less useful, he did not neglect the politer arts of eloquence and poetry. thus was his learning at once various and exact, profound and agreeable.... he asserted on all occasions the divine authority and sacred efficacy of the holy scriptures; and maintained that they alone taught the way of salvation, and that they only could give peace of mind.' johnson's _works_, vi. . [ ] sir joshua reynolds, who was born at plympton. [ ] see _ante,_ iii. , note . the end of the fourth volume. transcriber's notes: a number of alterations have been made with the aim of correcting printing errors, while changing the text as little as possible. no attempt has been made to alter spellings, or to modernise punctuation or grammar. the complete list of all such changes appear at the end of this text. the augustan reprint society deformities of dr samuel johnson. selected from his works. ( ) _introduction by_ gwin j. kolb and j. e. congleton publication numbers - william andrews clark memorial library university of california, los angeles general editors william e. conway, _william andrews clark memorial library_ george robert guffey, _university of california, los angeles_ maximillian e. novak, _university of california, los angeles_ associate editor david s. rodes, _university of california, los angeles_ advisory editors richard c. boys, _university of michigan_ james l. clifford, _columbia university_ ralph cohen, _university of virginia_ vinton a. dearing, _university of california, los angeles_ arthur friedman, _university of chicago_ louis a. landa, _princeton university_ earl miner, _university of california, los angeles_ samuel h. monk, _university of minnesota_ everett t. moore, _university of california, los angeles_ lawrence clark powell, _william andrews clark memorial library_ james sutherland, _university college, london_ h. t. swedenberg, jr., _university of california, los angeles_ robert vosper, _william andrews clark memorial library_ curt a. zimansky, _state university of iowa_ corresponding secretary edna c. davis, _william andrews clark memorial library_ editorial assistant lilly kurahashi, _william andrews clark memorial library_ introduction during the early part of his literary career, james thomson callender ( - )[ ] belittled samuel johnson; during the later, he denigrated thomas jefferson. thus his reputation as a scots master of scurrility and a vicious scandalmonger was earned on both sides of the atlantic. probably because his anonymous pamphlets about johnson's writings--the _deformities of dr. samuel johnson, selected from his works_ ( ) and _a critical review of the works of dr. samuel johnson_ ( )--were not both ascribed to him until , callender first came into public notice in , when in scotland he published _the political progress of britain, or an impartial account of the principal abuses in the government of this country from the revolution in _. for these intemperate remarks, though anonymous, he was indicted in for sedition. he fled from edinburgh and made his way, "with some difficulty," soon thereafter to philadelphia. during the first several years in philadelphia, he was reporter of the congressional debates for the philadelphia _gazette_ and did some editorial hackwork. he also published the third edition of the _political progress_, which was favorably noticed by jefferson. in he published _the history of the united states for : including a variety of particulars relative to the federal government previous to that period_, which brought the charge against alexander hamilton of "a connection with one james reynolds for purpose of improper pecuniary speculation." hamilton, after making preliminary preparations for a duel, came to the conclusion that he would have to sacrifice his private reputation to clear his public actions. so he calmly wrote, "my real crime is an amorous connection with his [reynolds'] wife for a considerable time, with his privity and connivance, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me."[ ] in _the prospect before us_ ( ), written under the secret patronage of jefferson, callender assailed john adams and lashed through adams at his predecessor, washington. ending his diatribe, he said, "take your choice, between adams, war and beggery and jefferson, peace and competency." because of his remarks about adams, he was tried under the sedition law, fined $ , and sent to prison for nine months. while in prison he wrote two fiery anti-federalist pamphlets, for which jefferson advanced money under ambiguous terms. when jefferson became president in , he pardoned callender (and all others convicted under the unwise sedition law), and callender's fine was remitted. but callender was not satisfied; he wanted jefferson to appoint him postmaster of richmond, virginia. jefferson refused, in spite of the tone of blackmail which now pervaded callender's importunities. soon he turned his political coat and began editing the most scurrilous anti-jefferson paper in the country, the richmond _recorder_, to the infinite delight of the federalists, who immediately circulated the periodical far and wide. callender accused jefferson of dishonesty and cowardice, but pure malice inspired his most injurious charges. it is well known that the man, _whom it delighted the people to honor_, keeps ... as his concubine, one of his own slaves. her name is sally. the name of her eldest son is tom. his features are said to bear a striking resemblance to those of the president himself.... by this wench sally, our president has had several children. there is not an individual in the neighborhood of charlottesville who does not believe the story; and not a few who _know it_.... behold the favorite! the first born of republicanism! the pinnacle of all that is good and great! if the friends of mr. jefferson are convinced of his innocence, they will make an appeal.... if they rest in silence, or if they content themselves with resting upon a _general denial_, they cannot hope for credit. the allegation is of a nature too _black_ to be suffered to remain in suspense. we should be glad to hear of its refutation. we give it to the world under the firmest belief that such a refutation _never can be made_. the african venus is said to officiate as housekeeper at montecello. when mr. jefferson has read this article, he will find leisure to estimate how much has been lost or gained by so many unprovoked attacks upon j. t. callender![ ] callender's ignominious end came on july . the _gentleman's magazine_ declared (lxxiii [september ], ) that he, "after experiencing many varieties of fortune as iscariot hackney ... drowned himself ... in james river": the coroner's jury, however, declared that his death was accidental, following intoxication. there can be scant doubt that the _deformities_ and _a critical review_[ ] have a common origin. the paper, type, and makeup of the title-pages indicate that they were issued from the same press. in the "introduction" to _a critical review_, the statement is made that "the author of the present trifle was last year induced to publish a few remarks on the writings of dr. samuel johnson.... like the former essay, these pages will endeavour to ascertain the genuine importance of dr. johnson's literary character" (pp. iii, v). in the text on page , the _deformities_ is cited in proprietary tones; and it is also mentioned in notes on pages , , , and . moreover, the tell-tale words "deformities" and "deformity" appear (pp. , ) in the text, and there is an advertisement for the _deformities_ on page . an attempt to identify the author of the _deformities_ was made by george steevens when it appeared. in a letter to william cole dated may , he says that it was "written by a club of caledonian wits."[ ] the _critical review_ for august (liv, ) surmised that "the pamphlet ... is apparently written by some angry caledonian, who, warmed with the deepest resentment for some real or supposed injury, gives vent to his indignation, and treats every part of dr. johnson's character with the utmost asperity." a month later, the _gentleman's magazine_ (lii [september ], ), "reciting the circumstance" of the origin of the _deformities_, contended that it was a revenge pamphlet inspired by an anti-ossian publication by william shaw ("nadir" shaw, in the _deformities_), who "'denied the existence of gaelic poetry....'" "dr. johnson was his patron; and therefore this essayist, 'by fair and copious quotations from dr. johnson's ponderous performances, has attempted to illustrate'" his extraordinary defects. and in february (lxviii, - ), the _monthly review_ briefly noted: this seems to be the production of some ingenious but angry scotchman, who has taken great pains to prove, what all the world knows, that there are many exceptionable passages in the writings of dr. johnson. there are, however, few spots in this literary luminary now pointed out that have not been discovered before. so that the present map must be considered rather as a monument of the delineator's malignity, than of his wit.--his _personalities_ seem to indicate personal provocation; though perhaps it may be all pure _nationality_. though boswell mentions the pamphlet and quotes a letter in which johnson comments on it,[ ] neither he nor any of his editors before l. f. powell try to identify the incensed author. in robert anderson said that the _deformities_, "an invidious contrast to 'the beauties of johnson,'" is "the production of mr. thomson callender, nephew of thomson the poet."[ ] when the _deformities_ was catalogued in the bodleian library in ,[ ] it was attributed to john callander of craigforth. in _a critical review of the works of dr. samuel johnson_, the statement is made (p. ) that "mr. callander of craigforth ... observes" that "'had the laborious johnson been better acquainted with the oriental tongues, or had he even understood the first rudiments of the northern languages from which the english and scots derive their origin, his bulky volumes had not presented to us the melancholy truth, that unwearied industry, _devoid of settled principles_, avails only to add one error to another.'" this latter blast, taken from the "introduction" to callander's _two ancient scottish poems, the gaberlunzie man and christ's kirk on the green_ (edinburgh, ), may well have been the evidence that caused _a critical review_ to be attributed to john callander of craigforth; then, because of the interconnections between it and the _deformities_ and because of their convincing similarity, the _deformities_ was also assigned to him. on the other hand, one is puzzled by the bodleian's failure to accept the passage from john callander in _a critical review_ as conclusive evidence that he was not the author of that work.[ ] when the _deformities_ and _a critical review_ were catalogued in the british museum, in and , they were likewise attributed to john callander of craigforth. in courtney and smith seemed to doubt that john callander wrote them; for, they noticed, "strangely enough no mention of them is made by robert chambers in his memoir of callander."[ ] the _catalogue of printed books in the edinburgh library_ ( ) assigns _a critical review_ to john callander; it does not list the _deformities_. arthur g. kennedy, in _a bibliography of writings on the english language_ ( ), attributes the _deformities_ to john callander; he lists the issue of _a critical review_ as anonymous. in their _dictionary of anonymous and pseudonymous english literature_ ( - ), halkett and laing assign _a critical review_ to john callander on the authority of the british museum; the _deformities_ is also assigned to him on the authority of a note by chalmers in . finally, l. f. powell, _primus editorum_, in his revision of g. b. hill's edition of boswell's _life_ ( - ), quoted from a letter by james thomson callender to john stockdale, dated october , which says: "i will be greatly obliged to you, for delivering the remaining copies of deformities of johnson to the bearer, and sending me his receipt for them." dr. powell thinks--rightly, we believe, when all the other evidence is taken into account--that this letter "shows" that callender "was the author of the book."[ ] then in , d. nichol smith, no doubt having followed the suspicion he and w. p. courtney expressed in , and having available the proof unearthed by dr. powell, attributed both items to j. t. callender in the _cbel_ (ii, ), listing two editions of the _deformities_ in and two of _a critical review_ in . the british museum _catalogue_ also now credits the same scotsman with both works. the information in callender's letter to stockdale, anderson's identification, a fairly plausible reason that the _deformities_ was so long attributed to john callander, the similarity of the styles and contents of the two pamphlets, the parallel circumstances of publication, the virtual acknowledgement of the _deformities_ in _a critical review_--all point to a safe conclusion that the two works were the creations of james thomson callender. though students of johnson have frequently noticed the bitter ridicule in the _deformities_ and _a critical review_, they (since the author of the pamphlets was unknown) have seldom,[ ] if ever, detailed callender's turbulent career in america. similarly, students of american history have studied callender's attacks on early american statesmen; but they have been completely unaware, it seems, that the pamphleteer who wrote them began his career by making fun of samuel johnson. now that the authorship of these two early productions has been established, a study of them provides details that illuminate the foreground of callender's career in america. likewise, of course, the particulars of his activities in america illuminate the background of his career in great britain. near the conclusion of the _deformities_, callender relates the "circumstances which," as he says, "gave ... birth" to the work. in , mr william shaw published an analysis of the gaelic language. he quoted specimens of gaelic poetry, and harangued on its beauties.... a few months ago, he printed a pamphlet. he traduced decent characters. he denied the existence of gaelic poetry, and his name was echoed in the newspapers as a miracle of candour. is there in the annals of grubæan impudence any parallel to this?... this incomparable bookbuilder, who writes a dictionary before he can write grammar, had previously boasted what a harvest he would reap from english credulity. he was not deceived. the bait was caught.... mr shaw wants only money.... but better things might have been expected from the moral and majestic author of the rambler. he must have seen the analysis of the gaelic language, for shaw mentions him as the patron of that work. he must have seen the specimens of celtic poetry there inserted. that he is likewise the patron of this poor scribble, no man, i suppose, will offer to deny. from this single circumstance, dr johnson stands convicted of _an illiberal intention to deceive_. candour can hardly hesitate to sum up his character in the vulgar but expressive pollysyllable [pp. - ]. readily available facts support some of the central assertions in this rather heated description of the inception of the _deformities_. specifically, as readers of boswell's _life_ may recall, johnson must be considered a--if not the--principal patron of the scotsman william shaw's _analysis of the gaelic language_: he wrote the official proposals for the work, he solicited subscribers to it, and he received from the grateful author a public acknowledgement (in the "introduction") that "to the advice and encouragement of dr. johnson, the friend of letters and humanity, the public is indebted for these sheets."[ ] it is probable, too, that he examined the book at least cursorily[ ] and that in doing so he caught sight of one or more of the references to ossian's poetry, perhaps including the "specimen" on pages - . moreover, in the pamphlet callender mentions, entitled _an enquiry into the authenticity of the poems ascribed to ossian_ ( ), shaw, setting out to demolish the arguments favoring the ostensible origins of the purported translations, accords (p. ) johnson pride of place in starting "objections" to the poems and quotes (pp. - ) approvingly first a lengthy passage from _a journey to the western islands of scotland_ ( ) and then johnson's famous letter to james macpherson. in addition, boswell records johnson's later assistance to shaw in composing a reply to john clark's pro-ossian _answer to mr. shaw's inquiry_ ( ).[ ] but to admit all this is scarcely to "convict" johnson of a deliberate "_intention to deceive_." on the contrary, since by his scepticism regarding the ossianic writings was widely known, his _journey_ having appeared three years earlier, it could be argued that his patronage of shaw's _analysis_ revealed a degree of understanding and tolerance not always associated with his name. for the irate callender, however, such "shameful" conduct demanded countermeasures--even by "a private individual, without interest or connections." the self-appointed champion both of "virtue" and also of "a world ... weary of" the culprit's "arrogant pedantry" and "officious malice," he hoped "to humble and reform" johnson by "glean[ing] the tithe of" his "absurdities," which, callender declares, illustrate, among other defects, johnson's "prolixity," "corruptions of our language," "want of general learning," "antipathy to rival merit," "paralytick reasoning," "adherence to contradictions," "defiance of decency," and "contempt of truth" (pp. - ). after garnering the supposed proofs of these multitudinous "deformities," callender published his book at edinburgh (where it was sold by "w. creech") in the early part of .[ ] the pamphlet, priced at a shilling and consisting of a two-page introduction and sixty-three pages of text, was also sold at london by "t. longman, and j. stockdale."[ ] towards the end of the same year (probably in december),[ ] encouraged by the initial "reception," he brought out a second, enlarged edition of the work, which he had "perused ... with honest attention, from the first line to the last, that he might endeavour to supply its deficiencies, and to correct its errors" (p. vi). selling for "eighteen pence"[ ] and appearing at both edinburgh and london, this edition includes a separate preface and comes to a total of eighty-nine pages. we have chosen it as the text for the present reproduction of the _deformities_. callender's very limited powers of ridicule and exposure reside largely in his amassment of material, not in his ability to arrange and synthesize that material. indeed, one looks in vain at the work for anything more than the most obvious and elementary form of organization. the preface begins with brief general remarks on "man's" incapacity to "reform" his "follies" and the "prejudice" and "good nature" of the "public" respecting this human frailty, offers "dr. samuel johnson" as a capital example of the general observation, proceeds to "enquire" how "such a man crawled to the summit of classical reputation," and concludes, rather abruptly, with a short postcript on the second edition of the _deformities_ itself. the introduction stresses the enormous differences that, according to callender, often exist between a man's words and deeds--particularly, so the reader is told repeatedly if a bit obliquely, between johnson's writings (especially the _dictionary_) and actions. the body of the pamphlet may be divided into five unequal parts. in the first (pp. - ), callender launches a freewheeling attack on johnson, accusing him of "ill-nature," a revengeful spirit, peevishness, and insolence (among other lamentable traits), and announces his chosen mode of chastisement: "from the doctor's volumes i am to select some passages, illustrate them with a few observations, and submit them to the reader's opinion." in the second (pp. - ), he presents a disconnected string of quotations drawn from a number of johnson's works and embellished with caustic strictures on their creator's presumed moral, intellectual, and literary shortcomings. in the third and longest section (pp. - ), separated from the second by a small printer's device, callender, after "quoting [pp. - ] the remarks already made by a judicious friend,[ ] on this subject," begins a series of disjointed, angry comments on the supposed weaknesses of "the doctor's english dictionary." thirty-one pages later, having vented his ire on the choice and definitions of hundreds of words in the _dictionary_, he "take[s] leave" of the "enormous compilation," stigmatized as "perhaps ... the strangest farrago which pedantry ever produced," and "return[s]" briefly, in part four (pp. - ; set off from part three by another small device), "to the rest of" johnson's publications, extracts from which he again employs as a means of exhibiting his subject's supposed faults. finally, he brings the rambling essay to a close (pp. - ) by recounting its origins, repeating his principal charges against johnson, and reasserting his hopes for the doctor's "reformation." although it contains some lively reading (with the author himself being the center of our interest about as often as his subject) and should certainly be readily accessible to students of eighteenth-century literature, the _deformities_ merits only restricted attention as a valid critique of johnson's character and writings. ostensibly employing, by and large, an inductive argument, it professes to demonstrate the pronounced ethical and mental flaws of the great cham, who enjoys, so callender freely confesses, an unrivalled reputation among his contemporaries for his achievements in letters and lexicography. besides the deplorable qualities mentioned above and excluding for the moment a consideration of those most evident in the _dictionary_, johnson's faults are alleged to include dishonesty, pride, vulgarity, slovenliness, dullness, contempt for other persons, prejudice (especially against the scots), ingratitude, "gross expressions," turgid language, and, above all, ignorance, "nonsense," and countless inconsistencies. to this sweeping broadside of invective, the modern reader must respond with steady, sometimes amused, sometimes annoyed disbelief. he recognizes, to be sure, certain points of likeness between callender's abusive imputations and (say) boswell's highly laudatory portrait. but the former's accusations are so irresponsible and intemperate, so obviously the outburst of a quivering scotsman's intense indignation, and the evidence adduced is so often wrenched from its context and misapplied, that the reader inevitably finds himself a partisan of johnson even when he might be occasionally inclined to admit the tenability of callender's criticism. among johnson's works, the _dictionary_, as already indicated, bears the brunt of callender's heaviest, most sustained assault. its principal "deformities," to judge from the amount of space devoted to them, occur in its definitions and word-list. in callender's opinion, "most of the definitions ... may be divided into three classes; the erroneous, oenigmatical, and superfluous" (p. ); many of them explicate "indecent," "blackguard" expressions (pp. , ); and some, exemplifying the lexicographer's "political tenets," are downright "seditious and impudent" (p. ). of the word-list itself, probably "two thousand" members, comprising a "profusion of trash," are "not to be found at all in any other book" (p. ). a short introduction is scarcely the place to examine the presumed existence of these defects in the _dictionary_. nevertheless, a few facts, based on a random sampling of passages in the _deformities_, may provide a partial historical perspective for callender's censures. of the group of words on pages - whose real currency he doubts or denies, also appear in the second edition ( ) of nathan bailey's _dictionarium britannicum_, a copy of which johnson interleaved and used as he compiled his own _dictionary_. equally revealing, the _oed_ includes of the , the second edition of _webster's international_ , and the third edition . again, of the words on pages - whose definitions callender objects to, also appear, with comparable explanations, in bailey's dictionary. finally, an unsystematic comparison of bailey's and johnson's works reveals a much higher incidence of so-called "indecent"--at least sexual--terms in the former than in the latter. the author of the _deformities_, it is quite obvious, knew what he disliked about the _dictionary_; when pressing his strictures against the book, however, as when mounting his other attacks on johnson, his violent passions rode roughshod over his faint pretensions to fairness and objectivity. university of chicago findlay college notes to the introduction . the _dnb_ and the _dab_ both contain accounts of callender (complete, of course, with lists of their primary sources) to which we are indebted for various details in our own sketch of his life. however, neither mentions his pamphlets on johnson. . quoted from hamilton by david loth in _alexander hamilton: portrait of a prodigy_ (new york, ), p. . . from the richmond _recorder_ as printed in the new york _evening post_, september ; quoted from _jefferson reader_, ed. francis coleman rosenberger (new york, ), pp. - . . there were apparently three editions of _a critical review_: ( ) edinburgh: printed for j. dickson, and w. creech, . ( ) second edition. london. printed for the author, and sold by t. cadell and j. stockdale; at edinburgh, by j. dickson and w. creech, . ( ) london. printed for r. rusted, . we are indebted to the pierpont morgan library for a photographic reproduction of its copy of the first edition of the pamphlet. . brit. mus. addit. ms , f. b. part of this letter is quoted by l. f. powell in boswell's _life of johnson_, iv, (cited hereafter as _life_). . writing to boswell on march , johnson remarks: "the beauties of johnson are said to have got money to the collector; if the 'deformities' have the same success, i shall be still a more extensive benefactor" (_the letters of samuel johnson_, ed. r. w. chapman [oxford, ], ii, ). . _life of samuel johnson, ll.d. with critical observations on his works_ ( rd ed.; edinburgh, ), p. . anderson is apparently incorrect in saying that callender was thomson's nephew. . there is apparently no copy of _a critical review_ in the bodleian. . in his introduction to a recent reprint (new york, ) of john rae's _life of adam smith_ ( ), jacob viner (who expresses his indebtedness to "herman w. liebert for bringing _a critical review_ to my attention and for warning me that j. t. callender, its author, was probably also the author of _deformities of dr. samuel johnson_") concludes that the quotation from john callander in _a critical review_ is sufficient "to acquit john callander of any responsibility for authorship of either _deformities of samuel johnson_ or _a critical review_" (p. ; see also pp. - ). . william p. courtney and d. nichol smith, _a bibliography of samuel johnson_ (oxford, ; reissued with facsimiles, ), p. . . _life_, iv, . callender's letter itself, reproduced in the _r. b. adam library_ (iii, ), is now in the hyde collection. dr. powell, like robert anderson, says that james thomson callender was a nephew of the poet james thomson, and gives the _dnb_ as the source of his information. . in , one of the present writers, j. e. congleton, published an article on "james thomson callender, johnson and jefferson" (_johnsonian studies_ [cairo, ], pp. - ) which forms the basis of a part of the present introduction. . _life_, iii, , , , . . _ibid._, iii, . . _ibid._, iv, - , . . the work appeared well before march when johnson referred to it in the letter of boswell cited above in note . in the _life_ (iv, ), boswell remarks that he had previously "informed" johnson "that as 'the beauties of johnson' had been published in london, some obscure scribbler had published at edinburgh, what he called 'the deformities of johnson.'" . on p. , callender calls the work "a shilling pamphlet." we are grateful to the pierpont morgan library for a photographic reproduction of its copy of the first edition of the _deformities_. . since its preface is dated november , the second edition was presumably published after that time but before the beginning of . . at the end of the second edition, callender declares: "to collect every particle of _inanity_ which may be found in our _patriot's_ works is infinitely beyond the limits of an eighteen-pence pamphlet" (p. ). . in a footnote on p. , callender tells us that the "remarks" of the "judicious friend" appear in no. of the _weekly mirror_, a periodical which, according to the _cbel_ (ii, , ), was published at edinburgh from september through march , for a total of numbers; the editor was apparently james tytler, the publisher j. mennons. bibliographical note the text of this facsimile reprint of the second edition of callender's _deformities_ ( ) is published with the kind permission of the university of chicago library. deformities of dr samuel johnson. selected from his works. _nihil rerum mortalium tam instabile ac fluxum est, quam fama_--tacitus. the diversion of _baiting_ an author has the sanction of all ages and nations, and is more lawful than the sport of teizing other _animals_ because for the most part he comes voluntarily to the stake. rambler, no. . second edition. london: printed for the author; and sold by j. stockdale; and w. creech, edinburgh. m.dcc.lxxxii. preface to the second edition. man is endowed with sagacity sufficient to discover his errors, but seldom has fortitude to forsake them. hence it arises that even the weakest of the species can point out the follies of his companions, and fancies that he can reform his own. we are amazed that a being like ourselves should thus deliberately act below the dignity of reason, but we forget that our own conduct may also be reviewed with contempt and pity. the world is buried in prejudice: every department of knowledge is deeply infected by its fatal poison. thus we frequently respect or reprobate a book without a perusal, merely on account of the author's name. not one in ten thousand of his panegyrists hath ever comprehended the system of newton.--what then is the value of _their_ approbation? the public have long heard that a late english dictionary is a most masterly performance; but is there a single man in england who ever read it half through? no. the school-boy imagines that it is above his capacity: the man of letters feels it to be below his; but being considered as a fashionable decoration in a closet of books, it is bought without the least chance of being perused, and we (for the _first_ time to be sure) have been admiring we know not what. however as the variety of our sentiments is without end, it often happens, that while a philosopher is celebrated by one part of his readers, he is despised by some of the rest. almost all the great authors of the present age have been more bitterly reviled than any other subjects of england, the ministry excepted. but in a matter so frivolous as the merit of a book, the public are seldom guilty of gross injustice. indeed, when an acute historian continues, in contempt of his own conviction, to persist in a falsehood, merely because he hath once affirmed it--when an elegant poet, in search of sublimity, soars, or rather sinks beyond the kenn of common sense[ ]--when an astronomer treats his antagonist like a felon--when an advocate of piety impregnates his pages with slander, scurrility, and treason--then the world may be pardoned though they abate something of their veneration for the dignity of the learned. we can hardly produce a stronger evidence of the prejudice, and the good nature of the public, than their indulgence to the foibles of dr samuel johnson; nor a stronger evidence of the force of self-conceit, than that disdain of admonition which forms the capital feature in his character. he seems to fancy that his opinions cannot be disputed; and many of his admirers acquiesce in his idea; yet his volumes are of no great value; his personal appearance cannot much recommend him; his conversation would shock the rudest savage. his ignorance, his misconduct, and his success, are a striking proof that the race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong. let us enquire by what singular series of accidents, such a man crawled to the summit of classical reputation? most of his verses were among his early productions, and they merit abundant praise. his account of savage compelled our approbation, and discovered a species of excellence but very little known in the annals of english literature. the force of language and of thought which he displayed in the rambler, extended his reputation, and atoned for his numerous imperfections. he had by this time engaged to write an english dictionary. wise men are known by their work, says the proverb. after many years he produced a performance of which i shall only say what can easily be proved, that few books are so unworthy of the title which they bear, and so void of every thing intellectual. but dr johnson's credit was supported by something very different from intrinsic merit. as he was not worth a shilling, his work was printed and patronized by a phalanx of booksellers; and we can have no doubt that much of his success was owing to their vigorous but interested exertions. he had likewise other assistance, which would have been more than sufficient to support the reputation of an ordinary writer. he was protected by mr. garrick, the darling of mankind. england herself never produced a more generous friend: and though he seldom wrote lessons of morality, nothing could exceed the clearness of his understanding, but the benevolence of his heart. by him, it is probable, dr johnson was introduced to the late earl of chesterfield; a minister, a man of letters, and a friend to merit. his lordship was persuaded to celebrate, by anticipation, the merits of the doctor's dictionary[ ], and his condescension is said to have been repaid by the most ungrateful insolence. of these two illustrious men it may almost be affirmed that their influence was universal, and when supported by the weight of the booksellers, opposition sunk before it. the doctor soon after received a pension from the most unfortunate of all statesmen, a statesman whom north britons ought to mention as seldom as possible, and his name acquired additional splendour from the dignity of independence. since that period his reputation, or at least his popularity, has been rather on the decline. his edition of shakespeare was with difficulty forced upon the world by every artifice of trade. his political pieces have long since insured the detestation of his countrymen, a few individuals excepted. his tour, considered as a whole, is a ridiculous performance. his lives of english poets abound with judicious observations; but the great misfortune is, that our historian can very seldom conceal the narrowness of his soul. of the present trifle the author has very little to say. the reception which it at first met with has induced him to risk a second edition. he has perused it with honest attention, from the first line to the last, that he might endeavour to supply its deficiencies, and to correct its errors. in the execution of this task, he has frequently had occasion to remark, that it is more easy to demolish a palace than to erect a cottage. edinburgh, } _nov. , _. } introduction. when a boy peruses a book with pleasure, his admiration riseth immediately from the work to its author. his fancy fondly ranks his favourite with the wise, and the virtuous. he glows with a lover's impatience, to reach the presence of this _superior being_, to drink of science at the fountain-head, to complete his ideas at once, and riot in all the luxuries of learning. the novice unhappily presumes, that men who command the passions of others cannot be slaves to their own: that a historian must feel the worth of justice and tenderness, while he tells us, how kings and conquerors are commonly the burden and the curse of society: that an assertor of public freedom will never become the dupe of flattery, and the pimp of oppression: that the founder of a system cannot want words to explain it: _that_ the compiler of a _dictionary_ has at least a common degree of knowledge: _that_ an inventor of _new_ terms can tell what they mean: _that_ he, who refines and fixes the language of empires, is able to converse, without the pertness of a pedant, or the vulgarity of a porter: _that_ a preacher of morality will blush to persist in vindictive, deliberate, and detected falsehoods: _that_ he who totters on the brink of eternity will speak with caution and humanity of the dead: and _that_ a traveller, who pretends to veracity, dares not avow contradictions. but in learning, as in life, much of our happiness flows from deception. ignorance, the parent of wonder, is often the parent of esteem and love. while devouring horace we venerate the deserter of brutus, and the slave of cæsar. transported by his sublime eloquence, the reader of cicero forgets that cicero himself was a plagiarist and a coward: that rome was but a den of robbers: that cataline resembled the rest; and that this rebel was only revenging the blood of butchered nations, of samnium, of epirus, of carthage, and of--hannibal. 'the laurels which human praise confers are withered and blasted by the unworthiness of those who wear them.' there is often a curious contrast between an author and his books. the mildest, the politest, the wisest, and the most _worthy_ man alive, pens five hundred pages to display the pleasures of friendship and the beauties of benevolence; but alas! he is a theorist only, for his sympathy never cost him a shilling. a party-tool talks of public spirit. a pedant commands our tears. a pensioner inveighs against pensions; and a bankrupt preaches public oeconomy. the philosopher quotes horace, while he defrauds his valet. a mimick of richardson, is a domestic tyrant: a sydenham, the rendezvous of diseases: a declaimer against envy, of all men the most invidious. the satirist has not a reformer's virtues. the poet of love and friendship is without a mistress, or a friend; while a time-server celebrates the valour of heroes, and exults in the _freedom_ of england. like penelope, most writers employ part of their time to undo the labours of the rest. judging by their lives one would think it were their chief study to render learning ridiculous. we lose all respect for teachers, who, when the lesson is ended, are 'no wiser or better than common men.' to be convinced that books are trifles, let us only remark how little good they do, and how little those, who love them, love each other. the monopolists of literary fame, for the most part, regard a rival as an enemy. their mutual hostilities, like those of aquatick animals, are unavoidable and constant; and their voracity differs from that of the shark, but as a half-devoured carcase, from a murdered reputation. the existence of many books depends on the ruin of some of the rest; yet, with our _english dictionary_, a few _immortal_ compositions are to live unwounded by the shafts of envy, and to descend in a torrent of applause from one century to another. a thousand of their critics will exist and be forgotten; a thousand of their imitators will sink into contempt; but they shall defy the force of time; continue to flourish thro' every _fashion_ of philosophy, and, like egyptian pyramids, perish but in the ruins of the globe. deformities, &c. in the number of men who dishonour their own genius, ought to be ranked dr samuel johnson; for his abilities and learning are not accompanied by candour and generosity. his life of pomfret concludes with this maxim, that 'he who pleases many, must have merit;' yet, in defiance of his own rule, the doctor has, a thousand times, attempted to prove, that they who please many, have _no_ merit. his invidious and revengeful remark on chesterfield, would have disgraced any other man. he said, and nobody but himself would have said it, that churchill was a shallow fellow. and he once told some of his admirers, that swift was a _shallow_, a _very shallow_ fellow: reminding us of the lilliputian who drew _his_ bow to gulliver[ ]. for the memory of this man, who may be classed with cato and phocion, the doctor feels no tenderness or respect. and for that[ ], and other critical blasphemies, he has undergone innumerable floggings. no writer of this nation has made more noise. none has discovered more contempt for other men's reputations, or more confidence in his own. i would humbly submit a few hints for his improvement, if he be not 'too old to learn.' and, whatever freedoms i take, the doctor himself may be quoted as a precedent for insolent invective, and brutal reproach. he has told us[ ], that 'the two lowest of all human beings are, a scribbler for a party, and a commissioner of excise.' this very man was himself the hired scribbler of a party; and why should a commissioner of excise be one of the meanest of mankind? in the preface to his octavo dictionary, the doctor affirms, that, 'by the labours of all his predecessors, not even the _lowest_ expectation can be gratified.' the author of a revisal of shakespeare[ ] attacks (he says) with '_gloomy malignity_, as if he were dragging to justice an assassin or incendiary. he bites like a viper, and would be glad to leave inflammations and gangrene behind him.' for this shocking language, which could have been answered by nothing but a blow, the _primum mobile_, perhaps, was, that the critic had dedicated his book to lord kaims, (a scotsman, and another very _shallow_ fellow) 'as the truest judge, and most intelligent admirer of shakespeare.' his treatment of colley cibber is, if possible, worse. that great ornament of the stage was a man of genius, at least equal to dr johnson--but they had a quarrel, and though cibber has been more than twenty years buried, the doctor, in his life of pope, studies to revenge it. his expressions are gross. 'in the dunciad, among other _worthless_ scribblers he (pope) had mentioned _cibber_. the dishonour of being shewn as _cibber's_ antagonist could never be compensated by the victory. _cibber_ had nothing to lose--the shafts of satire were directed in vain against _cibber_, being repelled by the impenetrable impudence,' &c.[ ] we have been deafened about the doctor's private virtues; of which these passages are a very poor evidence. it is believed by some, that dr johnson's _admirable_ dictionary is the most capital monument of human genius; that the studies of archimedes and newton are but like a feather in the scale with this amazing work; that he has given our language a stability, which, without him, it had never known; that he has performed alone, what, in other nations, whole academies fail to perform; and that as the fruit of _his_ learning and sagacity, our compositions will be classical and immortal. this may be true; but the book displays many proofs or his _ill-nature_, and evinces what i want to insist on, viz. that _he who despises politeness cannot deserve it_. for his seditious and impudent definitions[ ] he would, in queen anne's reign, have had a fair chance of mounting the pillory. hume, smith, and chesterfield may be quoted to prove, that walpole and excise were improper objects of execration; but an _emanation_ of royal munificence has, of late, relaxed the doctor's _frigorific_ virtue; and, in his _false alarm_, he affirms, that our government approaches nearer to perfection, _than any other that fiction has feigned, or history recorded_. this is going pretty far; but the peevish, though _incorruptible_ patriot, proceeds a great deal farther. his political pieces have great elegance and wit; yet, if the tenth part of what he advances in them be true, his countrymen are a mob of ignorant, ungrateful, rebellious ruffians. every member in opposition is a fool, a firebrand, a monster; worse, if that were possible, than ravillac, hambden, or milton[ ]. here is a short specimen: 'on the original contrivers of mischief let an insulted nation pour out its vengeance. with whatever design they have inflamed this pernicious contest, they are themselves equally detestable. if they wish success to the colonies, they are traitors to this country; if they wish their defeat, they are traitors at once to america and england. to them (mess. burke & co.) and them only, must be imputed the interruption of commerce, and the miseries of war, the sorrow of those who shall be ruined, and the blood of those that shall fall[ ].' from the doctor's volumes i am to select some passages, illustrate them with a few observations, and submit them to the reader's opinion. these pages aim at _perspicacity_. they are ambitious to record truth. 'he that writes the life of another, is either his friend or his enemy, and wishes either to exalt his praise, or aggravate his infamy[ ].' the doctor betrays a degree of inconsistency incompatible with his reputed abilities. after such a confession, what have we to hope for in _his_ lives of english poets? having thus denied veracity both to plutarch and _himself_, this idler, in the very next page, leaps at once from the wildest scepticism to the wildest credulity. the paragraph is too long for insertion; but the tenor of it is, that 'a man's account of himself, left behind him unpublished, may be _depended on_;' because, 'by self-love all have been so often betrayed, _that_ (now for the strangest flight of nonsense) all are on the watch against its artifices.' in his dictionary, _temperance_ is defined to be '_moderation opposed to gluttony and drunkenness_.' and he has since defined 'sobriety or temperance' to be '_nothing_ but the forbearance of _pleasure_[ ].' this maxim needs no comment. 'a man will, in the hour of darkness and fatigue, be content to leave behind him every thing but _himself_[ ].' here the doctor supposes, that a person can leave _himself_ behind _himself_. when the reader examines the passage in the original, he will be convinced, that this cannot be an error of the press only. had the rambler, when he crossed tweed, left behind him his pride, his indolence, and his vulgarity, he would have returned a much wiser, better, and happier man than he did. _form_, he explains to be, 'the external appearance of any thing, shape;' but, when speaking of hills in the north of scotland, he says, 'the appearance is that of matter incapable of form[ ]!' he has seen _matter_, not only destitute, but incapable of _shape_. he has seen an _appearance_ which is incapable of _external_ appearance. and yet, in the same book, he seems to regret the weakness of his vision. beauty is 'that assemblage of graces which pleases the eye.' but, in the idler[ ], he displays his true idea of beauty; and it is a very lame piece of philosophy. judge from a few samples: 'if a man, born blind, was to recover his sight, and the most beautiful woman was to be brought before him, he could not determine whether she was handsome or not. nor if the most handsome and most deformed were produced, could he any better determine to which he should give the preference, having seen only these two.' and again, 'as we are then more accustomed to beauty than deformity, we may conclude _that_ to be the reason why we approve and admire it.' moreover, 'though habit and custom cannot be said to be the cause[ ] of beauty, it is certainly the cause of our liking it[ ]. i have no doubt, but that, if we were more used to deformity than beauty, deformity would then lose the idea now annexed to it, and take that of beauty; as if the whole world should agree that _yes_ and _no_ should change their meanings, _yes_ would then deny, and _no_ would affirm.' this is such a perfection of nonsense, that the reader will, perhaps, think it a forgery; but he will find it _verbatim et literatim_, and the whole number is in the same stile. 'swift in his _petty_ treatise on the english language, allows that new words _must_ sometimes be introduced, but proposes that _none_ should be suffered to become obsolete[ ].' the doctor has not given a fair quotation from swift. one would imagine that swift had proposed to retain every word which is to be found in any of our popular authors, but he neither said nor meant any such thing. his words are these: 'they' (the members of the proposed society) 'will find many words _that deserve to be utterly thrown out of our language_!' and the dean says nothing afterwards which infers a contradiction[ ]. in his account of lyttleton, the doctor's good nature is evident. he speaks not a word as to the merit of the history of henry ii. but--'it was published with such anxiety as only _vanity_ can dictate.' we are next entertained with a page of dirty anecdotes concerning its publication, which the doctor seems to have picked up from some printer's journeyman. 'the persian letters have something of that indistinct and headstrong ardour for liberty which a man of genius _always_ catches when he enters the world, and _always_ suffers to cool as he passes forward.' of the admired monody to the memory of lady lyttleton, we are told only that it is _long_. 'his dialogues of the dead were very eagerly read, tho' the production rather, as it seems of leisure than of study, rather effusions than compositions. the names of his persons too often enable the reader to anticipate their conversation; and when they have met, they too often part without a conclusion.' these remarks apply with peculiar justice to dr johnson's dictionary, for that work is an _effusion_ rather than a _composition_. his reader is for the most part able to anticipate his definitions, and they generally end without conclusion. lord lyttleton's poems 'have _nothing_ to be _despised_ and _little_ to be _admired_.' but here, as usual, the doctor contradicts himself, and in the very next line 'of his progress of love, _it is sufficient blame to say_ that it is pastoral. his blank verse in blenheim has neither much force, nor much elegance. his little performances, whether songs or epigrams, are sometimes spritely, and sometimes _insipid_'--and of course _despicable_. the candid and accurate author of the rambler has forgot the existence of that beautiful blossom of sensibility, that pure effusion of friendship, the prologue to coriolanus. the life of dr young has been written by a lawyer, who conveys the meanest thoughts in the meanest language. his stile is dry, stiff, grovelling, and impure. his anecdotes and ideas, are evidently the cud of dr johnson's conversation. he continues in the same fretful tone from the first line to the last. he is at once most contemptuous and contemptible. whatever he says is insipid or disgusting. he is the bad imitator of a bad original; and an honest man cannot peruse his libel without indignation. he steps out of his way to remind us of milton's _corporal correction_, a story fabricated, as is well known, by his employer. his ignorance has already been illustrated in a periodical pamphlet. johnson himself, with all his imperfections, is often as far superior to this unhappy penman, as the author of the night-thoughts is superior to johnson. and yet this critical assassin, this literary jackall, is celebrated by the doctor[ ]. _pares cum paribus facile congregantur._ 'dryden's poem on the death of mrs killigrew is undoubtedly the noblest ode that our language ever has produced. the first part flows with a torrent of enthusiasm. all the stanzas, indeed, are not equal.' he proceeds to compare it with an imperial crown, &c. but, a little after, 'the ode on st cecilia's day is allowed _to stand without a rival_[ ].' these are his identical words; and his admirers may reconcile them if they can. indeed, he seems ashamed of his own inconsistency, and is ready to relapse; but thinks, upon the whole, that alexander's feast 'may, _perhaps_, be pronounced superior to the ode on killigrew.' dr johnson is said to be the greatest critic of his age; yet the verses on mrs killigrew are beneath all criticism; and, perhaps, no person ever read them through, except their author, and himself. dryden's fable 'of the cock and fox seems hardly worth the labour of _rejuvenescence_[ ].' some _narcotic_ seems to have _refrigerated_ the red liquor which circulates in the doctor's veins[ ], and to have _hebetated_ and _obtunded_ his powers of _excogitation_[ ], for elegance and wit never met more happily than here. peruse only the first page of this poem, and then judge. the nonsense which has been written by critics is, in quantity and absurdity, beyond all conception. perhaps his admirers may answer, that my remark is but the _ramification_ of envy, the _intumescence_ of ill-nature, the _exacerbation_ of 'gloomy malignity.' however, it would not be amiss to commit that page of _inanity_ to the power of _cremation_; and let not his fondest idolaters confide in its _indiscerptibility_. in painting the sentiments and the scenes of common life, to write english which englishmen cannot read, is a degree of insolence hardly known till now, and seems to be nothing but the poor refuge of pedantic dullness. his abyssinian tale hath many beauties, yet the characters are insipid, the narrative ridiculous, the moral invisible, and the reader disappointed. '_intercepting interruptions_ and _volant_ animals' are above common comprehension. the newtonian system had reached the happy valley; for its inhabitants talk of the earth's _attraction_ and the body's _gravity_[ ]. to tell a tale is not the doctor's most happy talent; he can hardly be proud of his success in _that_ species of fiction. speaking of scotland, he says, 'the variety of sun and shade is here[ ] utterly unknown. there is no tree for either shelter or timber. the oak and the thorn _is_ equally a stranger. they have neither wood for palisades, nor thorns for hedges. a tree may be shown in scotland as a horse in venice[ ].' an _english_ reader may, perhaps, require to be told, that there are thousands of trees of all ages and dimensions, within a mile of edinburgh; that there are numerous and thriving plantations in fife; and that, as some of them overshadow part of the post-road to st andrew's, the doctor must have been blinder than darkness, if he did not see them. but why would any man travel at all, who is determined to believe nothing which he _hears_, and who, at the same time, cannot _see_ six inches beyond his nose? 'we are not very sure that the bull is ever _without horns_, though we have been told that such bulls there are[ ].' who are the _we_ he refers to? and who but the doctor ever started so weak a question? his ignorance is below ridicule. it is true, that, in england, bulls which _want_ horns are less numerous than husbands who _have_ them; yet such bulls are always to be found. for the performance which contains this profound remark, this _agglomerated ramification of torpid imbecility_, be it known, that _we_ have paid six shillings, which verifies the proverb, that _a fool and his money are soon parted_. 'we found a small church, clean to a degree unknown in any other part of scotland[ ]!' here the fact _may_ be true; but dr johnson _must_ be ignorant whether it is or not. it is certain, that some buildings of that kind in edinburgh, are no high specimens of national taste; but, if the rambler would insinuate that this want of elegance is general, we must impeach his veracity; we must remind him, that there are gloomy, dirty, and unwholesome cathedrals in _both_ countries; and we must lament, that, when entering scotland, the doctor _left every thing behind him but_ himself. 'suspicion has been always considered, when it exceeds the common measure, as a token of depravity and corruption; and a greek writer has laid it down as a standing maxim, that _he who believes not the oath of another, knows himself to be perjured_.--suspicion is, indeed, a temper so uneasy and restless, that it is very justly appointed the concomitant of guilt. suspicion is not less an enemy to virtue than to happiness. he that is already corrupt, is naturally suspicious, and he that becomes suspicious, will quickly be corrupt[ ].' this cannot always be true; but, if it were, the rambler is by far the greatest miscreant who ever infested society. speaking of scotland, he says, 'i know not whether i found man or woman whom i interrogated concerning payments of money, that could surmount the illiberal desire of _deceiving me_, by representing every thing as dearer than it is.--the scot must be a sturdy moralist who does not love scotland better than truth[ ].' apply the doctor's maxims to his own conduct, and then judge of his honesty. he adds a little after: 'the civility and respect which we found at every place, it is _ungrateful_ to omit, and tedious to repeat[ ].' he should not have spoke of ingratitude. the picture grows quite shocking. 'how they lived without kail, it is not easy to guess. they cultivate hardly any other plant for common tables; and, when they had not kail, _they probably had_ nothing[ ].' as the word _kail_ is not to be found in his dictionary, an english reader will be at a loss to find out what he means. his conjecture is ridiculous; and here a _new_ contradiction must be swallowed by the doctor's believers; for, if oats be 'a grain, which, in england, is generally given to horses, but, in scotland, _supports_ the people[ ],' in that case, it is easy to guess how they lived without _kail_. any thing else had surely been better than to fill up his heavy folios with such peevish nonsense. in his life of butler, the doctor has confined his remarks to _hudibras_, though the rest of that author's works, both in prose and verse, merit equal attention. what are we to think of this invidious and culpable omission? hudibras itself would, perhaps, have been omitted, if the book had not tended to ridicule dissenters; for no man in england seems to hate that sect so heartily. in watt's life, he takes care to tell us, that the author was to be praised in every thing but his _non-conformity_; and, in his ever memorable tour, the rambler says, 'i found several (highland ministers), with whom i could not converse, without wishing, as my respect increased, that they had not been presbyterians[ ].' here a critic has very properly interrogated the doctor, what he would have said or thought, if the highland ministers had lamented that _he_ was _not_ a presbyterian? this man has no tincture of the liberal and humane manners of the present age; and yet, with his peculiar consistency, he laughs at the dissenter who refused to eat a christmas pye[ ]. this quondam believer in the cocklane ghost says, 'though i have, like the rest of mankind, many failings and weaknesses, i have not yet, by either friends or enemies, been charged with _superstition_[ ];' yet, with all the doctor's 'contempt of old women and their tales[ ],' he would, if a roman consul, have disbanded his army for the scratching of a rat[ ]. 'we found tea here, as in every other place, but our spoons were of horn[ ].' this important fact had been hinted in a former page; and such is the doctor's politeness! some rugged rock's hard entrails gave thee form, and raging seas produc'd thee in a storm. pope. 'they do what i found it not very easy to endure. they _pollute_ the tea-table by plates piled with large slices of cheshire cheese[ ].' the happiness of this remark will be fully felt by those acquainted with the peculiar purity of pomposo's person. 'm'leod left them _lying_ dead by families as they _stood_[ ].' this is _profound_; for no man can stand and lie at the same time. the line ought to be read thus: 'm'leod left them lying _dead_ by families as they had _stood_.' of the memoirs of scriblerus, the doctor says: 'if the whole may be estimated by this specimen, which seems to be the production of arbuthnot, with a few touches, perhaps, by pope, the want of more will not be much lamented; for the follies which the writer ridicules, are so little practised, that they are not known; nor can the satire be understood but by the learned: he raises phantoms of absurdity, and then drives them away: he cures diseases that were never felt. 'for this reason[ ], the joint production of three great writers has never obtained _any_ notice from mankind. it has been little read, or when read, has been forgotten, as no man could be wiser, better, or merrier by remembering it. 'the design cannot boast of much originality; for, besides its general resemblance to _don quixote_, there will be found in it particular imitations of the history of mr ouffle. 'swift carried so much of it into ireland as supplied him with hints for his travels; and with those the world might have been contented, though the rest had been suppressed[ ].' here we have a copious specimen of the doctor's _taste_; and all the volumes of english criticism cannot produce a poorer page. the work thus condemned, displays a very rich vein of wit and learning. the follies which it exposes, though a little heightened, were, in that age, frequent, and perfectly well known. the writers whom it ridicules, have sunk into _nihility_. the book is always reprinted with the prose works of pope, and swift, and arbuthnot; and what stronger mark of _notice_ can the public bestow? every man who reads it, must be the wiser and the merrier; and the satire may be understood with very little learning. dr arbuthnot was a scotsman, and, probably, a presbyterian. he was an amiable man. he is _dead_. dr johnson feels himself to be his inferior; and, therefore, endeavours to murder the reputation of his works. to gain credit with the reader, he artfully draws a very high character of arbuthnot, a few pages before, and here, in effect, overturns it. he had said that arbuthnot was 'a scholar, with great brilliancy of wit.' but, if his wit and learning are not displayed in the memoirs of scriblerus, we may ask where wit and learning are to be found? of this extract, the style is as slovenly as the leading sentiments are false. the book is said to be, the 'production of arbuthnot.' within ten lines, it is 'the joint production of _three_ great writers.' how can follies be practised which are not known? or diseases cured, which were never felt? he claims the attributes of omniscience when saying, that 'it has been little read, or when read, has been forgotten;' for, as it has been so frequently reprinted, no human being can be certain that it has been little read, or forgotten; but there is the strongest evidence of the contrary. this period concludes, as it began, with a most absurd assertion. if 'the design cannot boast of much originality,' there is nothing original in the literary world. who is mr ouffle? and who told the doctor that swift carried any part of scriblerus into ireland, to supply hints for his travels? when gulliver was published, dr arbuthnot, as appears from their correspondence, did not know whether that book was written by swift or not; so that we are sure the dean carried _nothing_ of arbuthnot's along with him. had dr johnson 'flourished and stunk' in their age, he would have been the hero of martin's memoirs; and, to suppose him conscious of this circumstance, will account for the rambler's malevolence, and explain why the bull broke into a china-shop. i beg particular attention to the following passage. 'his (pope's) version may be said to have tuned the english tongue; for, since its appearance, no writer[ ], however deficient in other powers, has wanted _melody_[ ].' this is wild enough; but, of gray's two longest odes, 'the language is laboured into _harshness_.' hammond's verses 'never glide in a stream of _melody_.' the diction of collins 'was often _harsh_, unskilfully laboured, and injudiciously selected. his lines, commonly, are of slow motion, clogged and impeded with clusters of consonants.' of the style of savage, 'the general fault is, _harshness_.' the diction of shenstone 'is often _harsh_, improper, and affected,' &c. of these five poets, some were not born when pope's version was published; and, of the rest, not one had penned a line now extant. they are all here charged, in the strongest terms, with _harshness_; and yet, (_mirabile dictu!_) since the appearance of pope's version, 'no writer, however deficient in other powers, has wanted _melody_.' it is no less curious, that the author of this wonder-working translation is himself charged with want of melody; and that too in a poem written many years after the appearance of pope's homer. 'the essay on man contains more lines unsuccessfully laboured, more _harshness_ of diction, more thoughts imperfectly expressed, more levity without elegance, and more heaviness without strength,[ ]' &c. 'gray thought his language more poetical, as it was more remote from common use[ ].' this assertion is not entirely without foundation, but it is very far from being quite true. 'finding in dryden, honey _redolent of spring_, an expression that reaches the utmost limits of our language, gray drove it a little more beyond common apprehension, by making _gale_ to be _redolent of joy and youth_[ ].' the censure is just. but dr johnson is the last man alive, who should blame an author for driving our language to its utmost limits: for a very great part of his life has been spent in corrupting and confounding it. in some verses to a lady, he talks of his _arthritic_ pains[ ], an epithet not very suitable to the dialect of parnassus. dr johnson himself cannot always write common sense. 'in a short time many were content to be shewn beauties which _they could not see_[ ].' he must here mean--'beauties which they could not have seen;'--for it is needless to add, that no man can be shewn what he cannot see. it is curious to observe a man draw his own picture, without intending it. pomposo, when censuring some of gray's odes, observes, that 'gray is too fond of words arbitrarily compounded. the mind of the writer seems to work with unnatural violence. _double, double, toil and trouble._' he (the author of an elegy in a country church-yard) 'has a kind of strutting dignity, and is tall by walking on tip-toe. his art and his struggle are too visible, and there is too little appearance of ease, or nature. in all gray's odes, there is a kind of cumbrous splendour which we wish away[ ].' we may say like nathan, _thou art the man_. mr. gray, and mr. horace walpole, are said to have _wandered_ through france and italy[ ]. and as a contrast to this polite expression, i shall add some remarks which have occurred on the doctor's own mode of wandering. 'it must afford peculiar entertainment to see a person of his character, who has scarcely ever been without the precincts of this metropolis (london), and _who has been long accustomed to the adulation of a little knot of companions of his own trade_, sallying forth in quest of discoveries--neither the people nor the country that he has visited will perhaps be considered as the most extraordinary part of the phænomena he has described.--the doctor has endeavoured to give an account of his travels; but he has furnished his readers with a picture of himself. he has seen very little, and observed still less. his narration is neither supported by vivacity, to make it entertaining, nor accompanied with information, to render it instructive. it exhibits the pompous artificial diction of the rambler with the same _vacuity of thought_.--the reader is led from one highland family to another merely to be informed of the number of their children, the barrenness of their country, and of the kindness with which the doctor was treated. in the highlands he is like a foolish peasant brought for the first time into a great city, staring at every sign-post, and gaping with equal wonder and astonishment at every object he meets[ ].' 'at florence they (gray and walpole) quarelled and parted; and mr. walpole is _now_ content to have it told that it was by his fault[ ].' this is a dirty insinuation; and the rant which follows in the next period is of equal value. he observes, that '_a long story_ perhaps adds little to gray's reputation[ ].' _perhaps_ was useless here, and indeed the doctor has introduced it in a thousand places, where it was useless, and left it out in as many where it was necessary. in justice to gray, he ought to have added, that their author rejected, from a correct edition of his works, this insipid series of verses. 'gray's reputation was now so high that he had the honour of refusing the laurel[ ].' no man's reputation has ever yet acquired him the laurel, without some particular application from a courtier. what honour is acquired by refusing the laurel? an hundred pounds a-year would have enabled an oeconomist like mr gray to preserve his independence and exert his generosity. the office of laureat is only ridiculous in the hands of a fool. mr. savage in that character produced nothing which would dishonour an englishman and a poet. it is probable that mr. gray, a very costive writer, could hardly have made a decent number of verses within the limited time. from the passage now quoted the reader will not fail to remark, that the rambler 'nurses in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings[ ].' mr. gray 'had a notion not very peculiar, that he could not write but at certain times, or at happy moments; a fantastic foppery to which _my_ kindness for a man of learning and of virtue wishes him to have been superior[ ].' milton, who was no doubt a shallow fellow compared with the reformer of our language, had the same 'fantastic foppery.' mr hume remarks that milton had not leisure 'to watch the returns of genius.'--every man feels himself at some times less capable of intellectual effort, than at others. the rambler himself has, in the most express terms, contradicted his present notion. in denham's life he quotes four lines which must, he says, have been written 'in some _hour propitious to poetry_.' in another place in the same lives his tumid and prolix eloquence disembogues itself to prove, what no man ever doubted, viz. 'that a tradesman's hand is often out, he cannot tell why.' and an inference is drawn, that this is still more apt to be the case with a man straining his mental abilities. in gray's ode on spring, 'the thoughts have nothing new, the morality is natural, but too stale[ ].' read the poem, and then esteem the critic if you can. speaking of _the bard_ he says, 'of the first stanza the abrupt beginning has been celebrated; but _technical_ beauties can give praise only to the inventor[ ].' the question here is, what he means by a _technical_ beauty? that word he explains, 'belonging to arts; not in common or popular use'--how can this word in either of these senses apply here with propriety? what he says of 'these four stanzas[ ]'--conveys, i think, no sentiment. every word may be understood separately, but in their present arrangement they seem to have no meaning, or they mean nonsense, and perhaps, contradiction; but this passage i leave to the supreme tribunal of all authors--to the reason and common sense of the reader. he can best determine whether he has 'never seen the notions in any other place, yet persuades himself that he always felt them.' these ideas are very beautifully expressed in many passages of gaelic poetry: and mr. gray, let it be remembered, to the honour of his taste and candour, was the warm admirer of fingal. comparing gray's ode with an ode of horace[ ], he says, 'there is in _the bard_ more force, more thought, and more variety'--as indeed there very well may, for in the one there are thirty-six lines only, and in the other one hundred and forty-four. his whole works are full of such trifling observations. 'but to copy is less than to invent, theft is always dangerous.' if he means to insinuate that gray's bard is a copy of horace, (and this is the plain inference from his words) i charge him in direct terms as _an atrocious violator of_ truth. 'the fiction of horace was to the romans credible; (no) but its revival disgusts _us_ with apparent and unconquerable falsehood, _incredulus odi_[ ].' how will the doctor's verdict be digested at aberdeen by 'a poet, a philosopher, and a good man[ ].' it is diverting to remark how these _mutual admirers_ clash on the clearest point, with not a possibility of reconcilement. i pass by five or six lines, which are not worth contradiction, though they cannot resist it. 'i do not _see_ that _the bard_ promotes any truth moral or political[ ].' the rambler's intellect is _blind_.--he seems to have stared a great deal, to have seen little or nothing. the bard very forcibly impresses this moral, political, and important truth, that eternal vengeance would pursue the english tyrant and his posterity, as enemies to posterity, and exterminators of mankind. dr johnson, a stickler for the _jus divinum_, did not relish this idea. he commends the 'ode on adversity,' but the hint was at 'first taken from horace[ ].' the poem referred to has almost no resemblance to mr gray's. and if we go on at this rate, where will we find any thing original? he mistakes the title of this poem, which is not an 'ode on,' but a 'hymn to' adversity. this is a clear though trifling proof of his inattention. as he dare not condemn this piece, it is dismissed in six lines, to make room for '_the wonderful wonder of wonders_, the two sister odes, by which many have been persuaded to think themselves delighted[ ].' he chews them through four tedious octavo pages. we come then to gray's elegy, which occupies an equal share of a paragraph containing only fourteen lines. so much more plentiful is the critic in gall than honey! and in reading this fragment we may remark that _nonsense_ is not _panegyric_. speaking of welsh mythology, he says, 'attention recoils from the repetition of a tale that, even when it was _first_ heard, was heard with scorn[ ].' there is no reason to think that the welsh disbelieved these fictions. it is much more likely that many believe them at this day. shakespeare has from this superstition made a whimsical picture of owen glendower: he painted nature. this is one of those assertions which our dictator should have qualified with a _perhaps_, an adverb, which, wherever it _ought_ to be met with in the doctor's pages, 'will not easily be found[ ].' 'but i will no longer look for particular faults; yet let it be observed that the ode might have been concluded with an action of better example; but suicide is always to be had without expence of thought[ ].' the lines objected to are these: 'he spoke, and headlong from the mountains height, deep in the roaring tide, he plung'd to endless night.' let the doctor, if he can, give us a better conclusion. '_the prospect of eaton college_ suggests nothing to gray, which every beholder does not equally think and feel[ ].' he might as well have said, that every man in england is capable of producing paradise lost. we have seen with what tenderness dr johnson speaks of the dead, we shall now see his tenderness to the living. 'let us give the indians arms, and teach them discipline, and encourage them now and then to plunder a plantation. security and leisure are the parents of sedition[ ].' the doctor seems here to be serious. the proposal must reflect infinite honour on his wisdom and humanity. 'no part of the world has yet had reason to rejoice that columbus found at last reception and employment[ ].' this wild opinion is fairly disproved by dr smith, a philosopher not much afraid of novelty; for he has advanced a greater variety of original, interesting, and profound ideas, than almost any other author since the first existence of books. 'such is the unevenness of dryden's compositions that ten lines are seldom found together without something of which the reader is ashamed[ ].' this is a very wide _aberration_ from truth. in dryden's fables we may frequently meet with five hundred lines together, without _ten_ among them, which could have disgraced the most eminent writer. his prologues and epilogues are a never failing fountain of good sense and genuine poetry. but it were insulting the taste of the english nation to insist any farther on this point. we shall presently see how far dr johnson's dictionary will answer the foregoing description. dryden it is said discovers 'in the preface to his fables, that he translated the first book of the iliad without knowing what was in the second[ ].' this insinuation revolts against all probability; and whoever peruses that elegant and delightful preface will find it to be not true. 'the highest pleasure which nature has indulged to sensitive perception is that of rest after fatigue[ ].' and _sensitive_ is defined '_having sense or perception; but not reason_.' if i understand the meaning of this passage, it is, that no pleasure communicated through any of the organs of sense is equal to that of _rest_. this assertion leads to the most absurd consequences. in man, to separate sensitive from rational perception appears to be simply impossible. even rest is not in strict language any pleasure. it is merely a mitigation of pain. the reader will decide whether i do the doctor justice, while i say, that he must have been petrified when he composed this maxim. thirst and hunger had been long forgot. handel and titian had no power to charm. we learn that a lover can receive, and his mistress can bestow nothing which is equal to the rapturous enjoyment of an _easy chair_. the thought is new; no human being ever did, or ever will conceive it, except this immortal idler. 'physicians and lawyers are no friends to religion, and many _conjectures_ have been formed to discover the _reason_ of such _a combination_ between men who agree in _nothing else_, and who seem to be less affected in their own provinces by religious opinions than any other part of the community[ ].' he then proceeds in the tone of an author, who has made a discovery to inform us of the cause. 'they have all seen a parson, seen him in a habit different from their own, and therefore _declared war_ against him.' but _this_ can be no motive for peculiar antipathy to parsons, allowing such antipathy to exist; for in habit all other classes differ no less from the clergy, than the lawyer and physician. but the remark itself is frivolous and false. boerhaave and hale were men of eminent piety. physicians and lawyers have as much regard for religion as any other people generally have. their _agreeing in nothing else_ is another of the blunders crowded into this passage. but i have too much respect for the reader's understanding to insist any farther on this point. the _conjecturers_, the _combination_, and the _declaration of war_, exist no where but in the doctor's pericranium. he was at a loss what to say, and the position is only to be regarded as a _turbid ebullition of amphibological inanity_. but while we thus meet with something which is ridiculous in every page, we are not to forget even for a moment, what we have often heard, and what is most unquestionably _true_, viz. that dr johnson is the father of british literature, capital author of his age, and the greatest man in europe[ ]!!! 'we are by our occupations, education, and habits of life, divided almost into different species, who regard one another for the most part with scorn and malignity[ ].' the doctor is himself a proof, that a man may look upon almost all of his own profession with scorn and malignity: so that between his precept and his practice, the world seems bad enough. but i hope every heart revolts at this gross insult on the characters of mankind. he brings as an instance the aversion which subsists between soldiers and sailors. there no doubt have been jealousies and bloodshed between these two classes of men, but the same accidents fall out more frequently between soldiers themselves. the _scorn_ and _malignity_ of admirals seldom affect any line of service but their own. his captain of foot[ ], who saw no danger in a sea-fight was a fool, and just such a specimen of english officers, as the doctor himself is of english travellers. our repulse at carthagena was not owing to an antipathy between the _common_ men. our late victory at savannah proves with what ardour they can unite. the doctor has insulted almost every order of society. coblers with coblers smoke away the night, even players in the common cause, unite. authors alone with more than mortal rage, eternal war with brother authors wage[ ]. 'to raise esteem we must benefit others,' is an assertion advanced in the same page. but the doctor, if he knows any thing, must know that _esteem_ is often felt for an enemy. we value for his courage or ingenuity the man who never heard our name, or who would not give a guinea to save us from perdition. we can esteem the hero who butchers nations, and the pedant who perplexes truth. marlborough's avarice led him to continue the continental war, till he had laid the great foundation of our public debt. he was detested as much as any general _now_ in england, and yet 'he was so great a man (said one of his enemies) that i have forgot his faults.' posterity, while they suffer for his baseness, pay the due tribute of esteem to his genius and intrepidity. in every point of view this maxim is 'the baseless fabrick of a vision.' and what had so far _obumbrated_ the rambler's powers of _ratiocination_, it is not easy to guess. we sometimes feel it impossible to esteem even our benefactor. 'i have received obligations (said chatterton) without being obliged.' and of consequence, his benefactors had forfeited his esteem. the father of british literature has in forty other places contradicted his own words. he has proved that esteem is involuntary, and that benefits do not always procure it. the doctor says, 'that cowley having, when very young, read spenser, became _irrecoverably_ a poet[ ].' and he adds a remark that shows his good sense: 'such are the accidents which, sometimes remembered, and sometimes perhaps forgotten, produce that particular designation of mind and propensity for some certain science or employment, which is commonly called genius. the true genius is a mind of large general powers, _accidentally_ determined to some particular direction. the great painter of the present age had the first fondness for his art excited by a perusal of richardson's treatise.' this drawling definition contradicts common sense. does the doctor mean that cowley would have become a painter by perusing richardson? or that reynolds would have become a poet by perusing spenser? this is the clear inference from his words, and its absurdity is 'too evident for detection, and too gross for aggravation[ ].' at this rate garrick might have eclipsed newton, and voltaire defeated frederick. plato possessed 'a mind of large general powers.' he read homer. he wrote verses, and he found that he could not be a poet. the doctor himself has 'large general powers;' but he could never have been made a decent dancing master. marcel might have broke his heart, before his pupil had acquired three steps of a minuet. in his dictionary the doctor, without a word of _accidental_ determination, defines genius to be 'disposition of _nature_, by which any one is qualified for some peculiar employment.' and here i cannot help adding, that 'the great painter' has by stepping out of his own line, discovered the narrowness of even a great man's knowledge. he affirms[ ], that _scarce a poet from homer down to dryden ever felt his fire diminished merely by his advance in years_. there is nothing more absurd, says cicero, than what we hear asserted by some of the philosophers. even in painting, the president's own profession, that rule does not hold. cellini tells us, that michael angelo's genius decayed with years; and he speaks of it as common to all artists. his notion was perhaps grafted on an opinion of the doctor's about the durability of waller's genius[ ]. but waller was a feeble poet; he never had a genius, so that we need not wonder he never lost it. all his verses are hardly worth one of dr johnson's imitations of juvenal. rowe (the famous tragic poet) 'seldom moves either pity or terror[ ].' paradise lost is a work which 'the reader admires, and lays down, _and forgets to take up again_[ ],' but rowe's lucan, which is very little read, the doctor pronounces to be 'one of the _greatest_ productions of english poetry.' dr johnson's sycophants have asserted, that 'in the walks of criticism and biography he has long been without a rival.' and they are no doubt willing to support their idol in his infamous assertion, that swift 'excites neither surprise nor admiration[ ].' the doctor's disregard for the unanimous sentiments of mankind often excites surprize, but never admiration. let us here apply his own observation, that 'there is often found in commentaries a spontaneous train of invective and contempt, more eager and venemous than is vented by the most furious controvertist in politics, against whom he is hired to defame[ ].' we may illustrate the rambler's remark by his own example: 'theobald, a man of narrow comprehension, and small acquisitions, with no native and intrinsick splendour of genius, with little of the artificial light of learning--his contemptible ostentation i have frequently concealed[ ].' the definer of a fiddlestick proceeds thus: 'i have in some places shewn him, as he would have shewn himself for the reader's diversion, that the _inflated_ emptiness of some notes may justify or excuse the contraction of the rest.'--the advocate for tenderness and decorum goes on to tell us, that 'theobald, thus weak and ignorant, thus _mean_ and faithless, thus petulant and ostentatious, by the good luck of having pope for his enemy, has escaped, and escaped _alone_ with reputation from this undertaking. so easily is he praised whom no man can envy[ ].' how does it appear that theobald was weak and ignorant? the doctor himself had in the preceding page told us, that 'he (theobald) collated the antient copies, and rectified _many_ errors.' this assertion our author, with his wonted consistency, has flatly contradicted in the very next line. 'what _little_ he (theobald) did was commonly right.' has the doctor adduced, or has he attempted to adduce evidence, that theobald was _mean_ and _faithless_, or what provocation has he to load this man's memory with such injurious epithets? his burst of vulgarity can reflect disgrace on nobody but himself. it is evident, tho' he thinks proper to deny it, that he considered theobald as an object of envy; yet he is obliged to confess that theobald 'escaped, and escaped _alone_, with reputation,' from the talk of amending shakespeare. in assigning a reason for this applause of theobald, dr johnson pays a very poor compliment to the penetration of the public, for surely to combat a writer of so much merit and popularity as pope, was not the plainest road to eminence in the literary world. 'in his (shakespeare's) tragic scenes there is _always something wanting_'----no[ ]----'in his comic scenes he is seldom very successful, when he engages his characters in _reciprocations_ of smartness, and contests of sarcasms; their ideas are _commonly gross_, and their pleasantry _licentious_.' this accusation is cruel and unjust, as all the world knows already. but a great part of that preface is an incoherent jumble of reproach and panegyrick[ ]. if any thing can be yet more faulty than what we have just now seen, it is what follows: 'whenever he (shakespeare) solicits his invention, or strains his faculties[ ], the offspring of his _throes_ is _tumour_ (i. e. _puffy_ grandeur[ ]), _meanness_, _tediousness_, and _obscurity_. his declamations or set speeches are _commonly cold and weak_.' the _set speeches_ (as the doctor elegantly terms them) of petruchio, of jacques, of wolsey, and of hamlet, are _perhaps_ neither cold nor weak. the conclusion of this period is worthy of such a beginning; he mentions certain attempts from which shakespeare 'seldom escapes without the pity or resentment of his reader.' the doctor himself is an object of pity. shakespeare has been in his grave near two centuries--his life was innocent--his writings are immortal. to feel resentment against so great a man because his works are not every where equal, is an idea highly becoming the generosity of dr johnson. what 'truth, moral or political,' is promoted by telling us, that, when thomson came to london, _his first want was a pair of shoes_; that pope 'wore a kind of fur doublet, under a shirt of very coarse warm linen, with fine sleeves[ ];' and a long string of such tiresome and disgusting trifles, which make his narrative seem ridiculous. had dr johnson been pope's apothecary, we would certainly have heard of the frequency of his pulse, the colour of his water, and the quantity of his stools. 'though pope seemed angry when a dram was offered him, he did not forbear to drink it[ ].' and who the devil cares whether he did or not? the doctor needed hardly to have told us, that 'his petty peculiarities were communicated by a female domestic;' for no gentleman would have confessed that they came within the reach of his observation. the _truly illustrious_ author of the rambler, has exerted his venemous eloquence, _through several pages_, in order to convince us, that 'never were penury of knowledge and _vulgarity_ of sentiment so happily disguised,' as in pope's essay on man. for this purpose, the doctor celebrates the character of crousaz, whose intentions 'were _always_ right, his opinions were solid, and his religion pure[ ].' in opposition to such authorities, let us hear the great and immortal citizen of geneva. 'm. de crousaz has lately given us a refutation of the ethic epistles of mr pope, which i have read; but it did not please me. i will not take upon me to say, which of these two authors is in the right; but i am persuaded, that the book of the former will never excite the reader to do any one virtuous action, whereas _our zeal for every thing great and good is awakened by that of_ pope[ ].' the essay on man, he says, 'affords an egregious instance of the predominance of genius, the dazzling splendour of imagery, and the seductive powers of eloquence. the reader feels his mind full, though he learns nothing; and when he meets it in its new array, no longer knows the talk of his mother, and his nurse[ ].' if the conversations of dr johnson's mother and his nurse were equal to mr pope's verses, it is a pity the doctor had not preserved them. he could hardly have spent his time so well. and it is a wonder that with so many rare opportunities of improvement, the doctor has never yet eclipsed his nurse. voltaire pronounces pope's essay to be the finest didactick poem in the world, and he would no doubt have replied to the doctor's objections in that tone of contempt with which the doctor replied to some of his--'these are the petty cavils of petty minds[ ].' in the essay on man 'so little was any evil tendency discovered, that, as innocence is unsuspicious, many read it for a manual of piety[ ];'--and will continue to read it, when the cavils of dr johnson are forgotten or despised. 'he (pope) nursed in his mind a foolish disesteem of kings.' and again, 'he gratified that ambitious petulance with which he affected to insult the great[ ].' dr johnson himself is by no means remarkable for his respect to the great. in the preface to his folio dictionary, he tells us, that it was written 'without any patronage of the _great_,' which is a mistake; for he had published a pamphlet, some years before, wherein he acknowledges, that chesterfield had patronized him; and why the doctor should retract his own words, it is hard to say; for chesterfield continued his friend to the last; and such a man was very likely _the strongest spoke in the doctor's wheel_. but his lordship is now dead, and the doctor is always and eminently _grateful_. 'it has been maintained by some, _who love to talk of what they do not know_, that pastoral is the _most antient_ poetry.' but in the next period, 'pastoral poetry was the _first_ employment of the human imagination[ ].' the doctor, therefore, by his own account, is one of those, _who love to talk of_ (and what is yet worse, to assert) _what they do not know_. in north america, the natives have no conception of pastoral life among themselves, and their poetry, such as it is, hath no relation to that state of society. pastoral poetry 'is generally pleasing, because it entertains the mind with representations of scenes, familiar to _almost every_ imagination, and of which _all_ can equally judge whether they are well described, or not[ ].' this period is so closely interwoven with nonsense, that it will take some pains to disentangle it. rural scenes are not familiar to _almost every_ imagination. in england half the people are shut up in large towns, and such is the gross ignorance of some of them, that an old woman in london once asked, _whether potatoes grew on trees_. neither is every man an equal judge even of what is familiar to him. observe how the rambler confounds the distinction between _all_, and _almost every_. the whole number is in the same stile. 'at this time a long course of opposition to sir robert walpole had filled the nation with clamours for liberty, of which no man felt the want, and with care for liberty which was not in danger[ ].' no man was more violent than dr johnson in abusing walpole. we have already seen some of those political definitions, which at this hour deform the doctor's dictionary. his late zeal for government could arise from self interest only. and to take his own words, he comes under suspicion _as a wretch hired to vindicate the late measures of the court_[ ]. he accuses milton as a tool of authority, as a forger hired to assassinate the memory of charles i. these charges came with a very bad grace from the rambler. they are long since refuted in a separate publication, and yet they will be reprinted in every future edition of his book. will any man be the wiser, the better, or the merrier, by reading what follows--'lyttleton was his (shenstone's) neighbour, and his rival, whose empire, spacious and opulent, looked with disdain on the _petty state_ that appeared behind it. for a while the inhabitants of hagley affected to tell their acquaintance of the _little fellow_ that was trying to make himself admired; but when by degrees the leasowes forced themselves into notice, they took care to defeat the curiosity which they could not suppress, by conducting their visitants perversely to inconvenient points of view, and introducing them at the wrong end of a walk to detect a deception; injuries of which shenstone would heavily complain[ ].' the paragraph closes with a _deep_ observation. as the doctor's own associates[ ] have lamented the existence of this beautiful and important passage, i have only to say, that _poor_ lyttleton (as the doctor calls him) patronized fielding, and that the rambler patronizes william shaw: that his lordship was an elegant writer: that he did not adopt johnson's new words: that _lexiphanes_ was dedicated to him: that he was a great and an amiable man: and that he is _dead_. with all his affectation of hard words, the doctor becomes at once intelligible when he wishes to reprobate a rival genius, or insult the ashes of a benefactor. in defiance of addison, and a thousand other _shallow fellows_, he asserts that milton 'both in prose and verse had formed his stile by a _perverse_ and _pedantick_ principle[ ].' speaking of mr walmsley, he says, 'at this man's table i enjoyed many chearful and agreeable hours, with companions such as are not often to be found.--i am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. he never received _my_ notions with contempt.--he was one of the first friends whom literature procured me,--and i hope that at least my _gratitude_ made me worthy of his notice. it may be doubted whether a day now passes, in which i have not some advantage from his friendship[ ].' but then, 'he was a whig with all the virulence and malevolence of _his_ party.' this is a most beautiful conclusion; and quite in the doctor's stile. his accusation is incredible. a monster, such as he draws here, can seldom deform existence. we are told that at st. andrews cardinal beaton 'was murdered by the ruffians of reformation[ ].' and it seems to be the fashion of the day, to censure that action. yet it is allowed on all hands that wishart's doctrine, in spite of its _incomprehensibilities_, was better than popery--that beaton, a profligate usurping priest, had committed every human vice--that, without civil authority, he dragged our apostle to the stake--and that his avowed design was to expell or exterminate the whole protestant party. had the cardinal been permitted to complete his plan, we durst not at this day have disputed, 'whether it is better to worship a piece of rotten wood[ ], or throw it in the fire?' it is therefore evident that to kill this tyrant was highly proper and laudable. we may just as well censure the centurion who slew caligula. when a philosopher, who truly deserves that title, was once in conversation reprobating melvil, he was interrupted by this, simple question, whether if his own antagonist had conducted _him_ to the stake, he would not have pardoned a pupil for avenging his blood? 'i would most certainly,' he replied, and such must be the real sentiments of all men, whatever they may chuse to print. when we attempt to hide the feelings of nature, that we may support a favourite system, we never fail to become ridiculous. in this age and nation, if a magistrate shall rise above the law; if he rob us of life with the most barbarous exulation; if his guilt equal whatever history hath recorded; if he want nothing but the purple and the legions to rival domitian, the voice of nature will be heard. the brave will reject such unmanly, such fatal refinements of speculation. like hambden and melvil, they will stand forth in defence of themselves, and their posterity. they will relieve their fellow citizens from temporal perdition. they will drive insolence and injustice from the seat of power. they will exult in danger, and rush to revenge or death. they will plunge their swords in the heart of their oppressor; or they will teach him, like charles, to atone upon the scaffold for the tears and the blood of his people; and while in the eyes of their countrymen, they read their glory[ ], they will perhaps reflect with a smile, that some slavish pedant, some pensioned traitor to the rights of mankind, is one day to mark them out as objects of public detestation[ ]. 'the theatre, when it is under any other direction, is peopled by such characters as were never seen, conversing in a language which was never heard, upon topics which will never arise in the commerce of mankind.--upon every other stage the universal agent is love, by whose power all good and evil is distributed, and every action quickened or retarded. to bring a lover, a lady and a rival into the fable; to entangle them in contradictory obligations, perplex them with oppositions of interest, and harrass them with violence of desires inconsistent with each other; to make them meet in rapture, and part in agony; to fill their mouths with hyperbolical joy, and outrageous sorrow; to distress them as nothing human ever was distressed; to deliver them as nothing human ever was delivered, is the business of a modern dramatist. for this probability is violated, life is misrepresented, and language is depraved[ ].' the weakest of dr johnson's admirers will blush in reading this passage. he very fairly denies every degree of merit, to every dramatic writer, of every age or nation, shakespeare alone excepted. what can be more ridiculous than this? 'every man finds his mind more strongly seized by the tragedies of shakespeare than of any other writer; others please us by particular speeches, but he always makes us anxious for the event, by exciting restless and _unquenchable_[ ] curiosity, and compelling him that reads his work to read it through[ ].' but the doctor overthrows all this within a few pages, for shakespeare has '_perhaps_ not _one_ play, which, if it were now exhibited as the work of a cotemporary writer, _would be heard to the conclusion_[ ].' the rambler cannot always suppress his thorough contempt for the taste of the public. he no doubt laughs internally at their folly in admiring him. * * * * * i proceed to the doctor's english dictionary, and shall begin with quoting the remarks already made by a judicious friend, on this subject. 'among the many foibles of the human race, we may justly reckon this to be one, that when they have once got any thing really useful, they apply it in all cases, proper or improper, till at last they make it quite ridiculous. nothing can possibly be more useful than a just and accurate _definition_, because by this only we are able to distinguish one thing from another. it is obvious, however, that _in definitions we ought always to define a thing less known, by one which is more so, and those things which are known to every body, neither can be defined, nor ought we to attempt a definition of them at all; because we must either explain them by themselves, or by something less known than themselves, both of which give our definitions the most ridiculous air imaginable_. 'a certain right reverend gentleman, not many miles from edinburgh, and whom, out of my great regard for the cloth, i put in the first place, gave the following definition of a thief. "a thief," says he, "my friends, is a man of a _thievish disposition_." now though this definition is somewhat imperfect, for a thief also exerts that _thievish disposition_ which lurks in his breast, i intend to take it for my model, on account of its great conformity to many of the definitions given by the most celebrated authors.--i remember to have seen in one of the reviews a definition of _nature_, which began in the following manner. "nature is that _innate_ celestial fire."--the rest has in truth escaped my memory, though i remember the reviewers indecently compared it to the following lines, which they say were a description of a dog-fish. 'and his evacuations were made _a parte post_. _a parte post!_ these words so hard in latin though i speak 'em, their meaning in plain english is, he made pure _album græcum_. 'this definition rather goes a step beyond that of the clergyman, as it explains the words _a parte post_ by _album græcum_, which are more obscure than the former, and neither of which, out of my great regard to decency, i choose to translate.--whether dr johnson composed his dictionary, after hearing the above-mentioned clergyman's sermon, or not, i cannot tell, but he seems very much to have taken him for his model, even though the said clergyman was a presbyterian, and dr johnson has an aversion at presbyterians. thus, when he tells us, that _short_ is _not long_, and that _long_ is _not short_, he certainly might as well have told us that a thief is a man of a thievish disposition. i am surprised indeed how the intellects of a human creature could be obscured by pedantry, and the love of words, to such a degree, as to insert this distinction in a book, pretended to be written for the instruction and benefit of society. much more am i surprised how the authors of all dictionaries of the english language have followed the same ridiculous plan, as if they had positively intended to make their books as little valuable as possible. nay, i am almost tempted to think, that the readers have a natural inclination to peruse nonsense, and cannot be satisfied without a considerable quantity of that ingredient in every book which falls into their hands. _long_ and _short_ are terms merely relative, and which every body knows; to explain them therefore by one another, is to explain them by themselves. but besides this ridiculous way of explaining a thing by itself, pedants, of whom we may justly reckon dr johnson the prince, have fallen upon a most ingenious method of explaining the english by the _latin_, or some other language still further beyond the reach of vulgar ken. thus, when dr johnson defines _fire_, he tells us it is the _igneous element_. _to water_ (the verb) he tells us, is to _irrigate_, by which no doubt we are greatly edified. _to do_ is to _practise_, and _to practise_ is _to do_, &c. 'but the most curious kind of definitions are these oenigmatical ones of our author, by which he industriously prevents the reader from knowing the meaning of the words he explains. thus, the _hair_ he tells us is one of the common _teguments_ of the body; but this will not distinguish it from the skin, and shews the extreme poverty of judgment under which the doctor laboured, when he could not point out the distinguishing mark between the hair and skin. a dog is "a domestic animal remarkably various in his species," but this does not distinguish him, except to natural historians, from a cow, a sheep, or a hog; for of these there are also different _breeds_ or species. a cat is "a domestic animal that catches mice;" but this may be said of an owl, or a dog; for a dog will catch mice if he sees them, though he does not watch for them as a cat does. nay, if we happen to overlook the word _animal_, or not to understand it, we may mistake the cat for a mouse-trap. the earth, according to our learned author, is "the element distinct from fire, air, or water;" but this may be light or electricity as well as earth.--air is "the element encompassing the terraqueous globe;" but an unlearned reader would be very apt to mistake this for the ocean, &c. 'when the doctor comes to his _learned_ definitions, he outdoes, if possible, his oenigmatical ones. network is "any thing _reticulated_ or _decussated_ at equal distances." a nose is "the prominence on the face which is the organ of scent, and the emunctory of the brain."--the heart is "the muscle which by its contraction and dilatation propells the blood through the course of circulation, and is therefore considered as the source of vital motion."--now let any person consider for whom such strange definitions can possibly be intended. to give instruction to the ignorant they certainly are not designed; neither can they give satisfaction to the learned, because they are not accurate. the nose, for instance, he says is the emunctory of the brain; but every anatomist knows that it performs no such office, neither hath the nose any communication with the brain, but by means of its nerves.--yet this dictionary is reckoned the best english one extant. what then must the rest be; or what shall we think of those who mistake a book, stuffed with such stupid assemblages of words, for a _learned_ composition? definitions undoubtedly are necessary, but not such as give us no information, or lead us astray. neither can any thing shew the sagacity, or strength of judgment, which a man possesses, more clearly than his being able to define exactly what he speaks about; while such blundering descriptions as these, above quoted, shew nothing but the doctor's insignificance[ ].' that the courteous reader may be qualified to judge for himself, i shall now insert a variety of quotations from this wonderful, amazing, admirable, astonishing, incomparable, immortal, and inimitable book. too much cannot be said in its praise. i shall however let it speak for itself. every page, indeed, is so pregnant with superexcellent beauties, that in selecting them, the critic's situation resembles that of the schoolman's ass between two bundles of hay; his only difficulty is where to begin. the pious husband of bathsheba had asked 'what is man?' but let it be told in rome, and published in the streets of paris, to the honour of the english nation, that her greatest philosopher has received l. a-year for informing us that-- man is a 'human being. . not a woman. . not a boy. . _not a beast._' woman. 'the female of the human race.' boy. ' . a male child; not a girl. . one in the state of _adolescence_.' girl. 'a young woman or child.' (_female_ child he should have said.) damsel. 'a young gentlewoman; a wench; a country lass.' lass. 'a girl; a maid; a young woman.' wench. ' . a young woman. . a young woman in contempt. . a strumpet.' strumpet. 'a whore, a prostitute.' whore. ' . a woman who converses unlawfully with men; a fornicatress; an adultress; a strumpet. . a prostitute; a woman who receives men for money.' to whore, _v. n._ (from the noun) 'to converse unlawfully with the other sex.' to whore, _v. a._ 'to corrupt with regard to chastity.' whoredom, _s._ (from whore) 'fornication.' (here follow several other definitions on the same pure subject, which every body understands as well as dr johnson.) young. 'being in the first part of life. _not old._' youngster, younker. 'a young person.' (i pass by _ten_ other articles, about _youthful_ compounded of _youth_ and _full_, &c. &c. because young people are in no danger of thinking themselves old.) yuck, _s._ (_jocken_, dutch.) 'itch,' old. 'past the middle part of life; _not young_; not new; ancient; not modern. of old. long ago; from ancient times.' hum, interj. 'a sound implying doubt and deliberation, _shakespeare_.' fiddlefaddle, _s._ (a cant word) 'trifles.' fiddlefaddle, _a._ 'trifling; giving trouble.' (----his own example strengthens all his laws, sam is himself the true sublime he draws.) fiddler, _s._ (from _fiddle_) 'a musician, one that plays upon a fiddle.' here follow fiddlestick, compounded of fiddle and stick, and warranted an english word by hudibras; and fiddle-string, _s._ (fiddle and string) 'the string of a fiddle. _arbuthnot._' sheep's eye. '_a modest and diffident look, such as lovers cast at their mistresses._' love. 'lewdness.' and _thirteen_ other explanations. _lovemonger._ 'one who deals in affairs love.' (besides about twenty other articles concerning this subject of equal obscurity and importance.) sweetheart. 'a lover or mistress.' mistress. 'a woman beloved and courted; a whore, a concubine.' wife. 'a woman that has a husband.' a runner. 'one who runs.' husband. 'the _correlative_ to wife.' shrew. '_a peevish, malignant, clamorous, spiteful, vexatious, turbulent woman._' scold. '_a clamorous, rude, mean, low, foul mouthed woman._' henpecked, _a._ (_hen_ and _pecked_) 'governed by the wife.' strap. 'a narrow long slip of cloth or _leather_.' whip. 'an instrument of correction _tough_ and _pliant_.' cuckingstool, _s._ 'an engine invented for the punishment of scolds and _unquiet_ women.' cuckoldom. 'the state of a cuckold.' (cuckold, _s._ cuckold, _v. a._ cuckoldy, _a._ and cuckoldmaker, _s._ (compounded of _cuckold_, and _maker_) i leave out, as the reader is, perhaps, already initiated in the mysteries of that subject.) arse, _s._ 'the buttocks' to hang an arse. 'to be tardy, sluggish' buttock. 'the rump, the part near the _tail_' rump. ' . the end of the backbone. . the buttocks.' thimble. 'a metal cover by which women (yea and _taylors_ too doctor) secure their fingers from the needle.' needle. 'a small instrument pointed at one end to pierce cloth, and _perforated_ at the other to receive the thread.' gunpowder. '_the powder put into guns to be fired._' maidenhead. maidenhode. maidenhood. 'virginity, virgin purity, freedom from contamination.' oh, _interj_ 'an exclamation denoting pain, sorrow, or surprise.' hope '_that which gives_ hope. _the object of_ hope.' fear. ' . dread; horror; apprehension of danger. . awe; dejection of mind. . anxiety, solicitude,' &c. impatience. 'heat of passion; _inability_ to suffer delay, eagerness.' virgin. '_a woman not a mother._' virginity. 'maidenhead; unacquaintance with man.' fart. 'wind from behind. _suckling_' to fart. 'to break wind behind. _swift._' marriage. 'the act of uniting a man and woman for life.' repentance. 'sorrow for any thing past.' kiss. 'salute given by joining lips.' kisser. 'one that kisses.' to piss, _v. n._ 'to make water. _l'estrange._' piss _s._ (from the verb) 'urine; animal water. _pope._' pissburnt, _a._ 'stained with urine.' pedant. 'a man vain of _low_ knowledge.' of these extracts, i suppose opinion is uniform. every man who reads them, reads them with contempt. to tell us that a _man_ is not a _beast_, seems to be an insult, rather than a definition. to say, that _young_ is _not old_, and, that _old_ is _not young, of old_, &c. is to say nothing at all. there is a medium; there is a state between these periods of life. and his definitions convey no meaning; for a man may be _not old_ tho' he is _not young_. many articles, such as whoring, whoremaster, whoremonger, whorishly, &c. are as indecent, as they are impertinent, and seem only designed to divert school boys. hum, yuck, fiddle, fiddler, fiddlefaddle, _s._ fiddlefaddle, _a._ fiddlestick, fiddlestring, thimble, needle, gunpowder, hope, o, and o--and oh, and twenty-eight or thirty explanations of the particle _on_, are left without remark to the reader's penetration. some are well enough acquainted with a _maidenhead_, and such as are not, will be no wiser by reading dr johnson: for he says, that it is _virginity_, and that again is explained (like more than half the words in his book) by the word it explains. neither can a _maidenhead_ ensure freedom from _pollution_; for a girl may be polluted, without losing her _maidenhead_; and on the other hand, the doctor dare not say that a _married_ woman is, for that reason, _polluted_. love, he calls _lewdness_, and he may as well say, that _light_ is _darkness_. his admirers will answer, that he also gives the right meaning; but let them tell, why he gave any besides the right meaning, and why he collected such a load of blunders into his book. or since he did collect them, why he did not mark them down as wrong. for in the preface to his octavo, he tells us, that it is written for 'explaining terms of science.' but to select twenty barbarous misapplications of a word, is not explaining the word, but only _confusion worse confounded_. indeed that whole preface is a piece of the most profound nonsense, which ever insulted the common sense of the world. a virgin, is _a woman not a mother_. but many wives, and many concubines too, have never propagated the species, though they had (as othello says) a thousand times committed the act of shame. from this literary chaos, a foreigner would be apt to imagine that _they_ were _virgins_. corking pin. 'a pin of the largest size.' bum. '_the part upon which we sit._' butter. 'an _unctuous_ substance.' buttertooth. '_the_ great broad foretooth.' off. prep. '_not on._' potato. 'an _esculent_ root.' turnip. 'a white _esculent_ root.' parsley, 'a plant.' parsnep. 'a plant.' colliflower. '_cauliflower._' cauliflower. 'a species of _cabbage_.' cabbage. 'a plant.' pit. 'a hole in the ground.' pin. 'a short wire, with a sharp point, and round head, used by women to fasten their cloaths.' plate. 'a small shallow vessel of metal (or of stone or wood doctor) on which meat is eaten.' play. '_not work._' poker. 'the iron bar with which _men_ stir the fire.' pork. 'swine's flesh _unsalted_.' (here you may find _porker_, _porkeater_, _porket_, _porkling_, with all their derivations, definitions, and authorities.) porridge. 'food made by boiling meat in water.' porridge-pot, (_porridge_ and _pot_) 'the pot in which meat is boiled for a family.' porringer, (from _porridge_) 'a vessel in which broth is eaten.' part. '_some thing less than the whole._' and _thirteen_ other _ramifications_. pulse. '_oscillation_; _vibration_.' puff. 'a quick blast with the mouth.' vid. in same page, pudding, _s._ from the _swedish_, (which is a mistake, for it is from the french _boudin_) _pudding pie_, from _pudding_ and _pie_, and _pudding-time_, from _pudding_ and _time_. puddle, _s._ puddle, _v. a._ & puddly, &c. shadow. '_opacity_, darkness, _shade._' shade. 'the cloud or _opacity_ made by interception of the light.' darkness. 'obscurity. _umbrage._' shadiness, 'the state of being _shady_; _umbrageousness_.' shady. 'full of _shade_; mildly _gloomy_.' (no light, but rather darkness visible.) sevenscore. 'seven times twenty.' shadowy. 'dark, _opake_.' to yawn. 'to gape, to _oscitate_,' yawn, _s._ '_oscitation_, hiatus.' yea. 'yes.' yes, 'a term of affirmation, the affirmative particle opposed to _no_.' see also in the same place, yest. year. ( months) yesterday, _s._ the day last past, the next day before to-day. yesterday, _ad._ yesternight, _s._ yesternight, _ad._ yet, _con._ yet, _ad._ nine times explained. vent. 'a small _aperture_; a hole; a _spiracle_.' wind. 'a _flowing_ wave of air; _flatulence_; windiness.' winker. 'one who winks.' to wink. 'to shut the eyes.' (no, sir, unless you open them again directly.) window. 'an _aperture_ in a building by which air and light are _intromitted_.' _n. b._ almost the whole of the same page is daubed over with such jargon. said. 'aforesaid.' scoundrel. 'a mean rascal; a low petty villain.' rascal. 'a mean fellow; a scoundrel.' villain. 'a wicked wretch.' wretch. 'a miserable mortal.' no, _ad._ 'the word of refusal. . the word of denial.' no, _a._ ' . not any; none. . _no one_; none: _not any one_.' (had this word _none_ altered its meaning, before the doctor got to the end of the line?) nobody. (_no_ and _body_) 'no one; not any one.' (see also nod, _v. a._ nod, _s._ nodder. noddle. noddy, &c.) none. ' . not one. . not any. . not other.' nothing. '_negation_ of being; not any thing,' and _seventeen_ other definitions. afore. (_a_ and _fore_) '_before_, nearer in place to any thing.' 'there is a certain line, beyond which, if ridicule attempts to go, it becomes itself ridiculous, and there is a sphere of criticism in that particular region, in which, if the critic plays his batteries on too _contemptible_ objects, he must unavoidably depart from his proper dignity, and must himself be an object of the raillery he would convey[ ].' hear the doctor on music. music. ' . the science of _harmonical_ sounds. . instrumental, or vocal _harmony_.' harmony. 'just proportion of sound.' melody. 'music; _harmony_ of sound.' tune. '_tune_ is a diversity of notes put together.' _locke_, _milton_, _dryden_. tenour, _s._ 'a _sound_ in music.' one requires little skill in music to see that the doctor knows nothing of that science. he confounds _melody_ with _harmony_; the one consisting in a succession of agreeable sounds, and the other arising from coexisting sounds. his account of a _tune_ is curious. and we may say in his own stile, that his dictionary is 'a diversity of _words_ put together.' his numerous omissions on this head will neither afflict, nor surprise us; but we must be mortified and amazed to reflect on the partial and injurious distribution of fame. for his book exhibits in every page, perhaps without a single exception, a variety of errors and absurdities. they are clear to the darkest ignorance. they are level to the lowest understanding, and yet our language is exhausted in praise of _their_ author. _pronis animis audiendum!_ poem. 'the work of a poet; a _metrical_ composition.' poet. 'an inventor; an author of fiction; a writer of poems; one who writes in measure.' poetess. 'a _she_ poet.' poetry. '_metrical_ composition; the art or practice of writing poems. . poems, poetical pieces.' _to circumscribe poetry by a_ definition _will only shew the narrowness of the definer_[ ]. tragedy. 'a dramatic representation of a _serious_ action.' comedy. 'a dramatic representation of the _lighter faults_ of mankind.' eclogue. 'a pastoral poem, so called, because virgil called his pastorals eclogues.' tragic-comedy. 'a drama compounded of _merry_ and _serious_ events.' farce. 'a dramatic representation written _without_ regularity.' elegy. ' . a mournful song. . a funeral song. . a short poem, without points or turns.' idyl. 'a small short poem.' epigram. 'a short poem terminating in a _point_.' epic, _a._ 'narrative; comprising narrations, not acted, but rehearsed. it is usually supposed to be heroic.' epistle. 'a letter;' and a letter again is 'an epistle.' ode. 'a poem written to be _sung_ to music; a lyric poem.' ballad. 'a song.' song. 'a poem to be _modulated_ by the voice.' catch. 'a song sung in _succession_.' i believe that dr johnson has written better verses than any man now alive in england. he is said to be the first critic in that country, and therefore we had the highest reason to expect elegant entertainment and philosophical instruction, when the poet and critic was to speak in his own character. but here, as in the rest of this work, the native vigour of his mind seems entirely to leave him. we look around us in vain for the well known hand of the rambler, for the sensible and feeling historian of savage, the caustic and elegant imitator of juvenal, the man of learning, and taste, and genius. the reader's eye is repelled from the doctor's pages, by their hopeless sterility, and their horrid nakedness. most of the definitions in this work may be divided into three classes; the erroneous, oenigmatical, and superfluous. and of the nineteen last quoted, every one comes under some, or all of these heads. a poem is said to be the work of a _poet_: and so were dryden's prefaces. again it is _a metrical composition_. no age had ever a greater profusion of rhimes than the present. in oxford there are two thousand persons all of whom can occasionally make verses. yet in this abundance of _metrical composition_, we have very few poems. a poet is-- . '_an inventor_,' but so was tubal cain. . '_an author of fiction_,' but so was des cartes. . '_a writer of poems_;' but as he has not been able to point out what a poem is, the definition goes for nothing. . 'one who writes _in measure_.' but in cowley's life, the doctor himself speaks of men, who thought they were writing _poetry_, when they were only writing _verses_. we are still exactly where we set out. the third definition is superfluous, and the fourth is very clumsy. the fifth and sixth are still worse, for comedy[ ] is frequently very _serious_ and tender, as well as tragedy; and that again represents the _lighter_ faults of mankind, as well as comedy. by the way, what are these _lighter_ faults, which our comedy is said to represent. in our comic scenes, adultery, and profaneness, appear to be the chief pulse of merriment. what the doctor says of a farce is not true, nor is elegy _always_ mournful[ ]. what can he mean by a poem without points or turns? an idyll is a small short poem. an epigram is a _short_ poem; but so is an epitaph, or a sonnet, and often an ode, a fable, &c. an epigram terminates in a _point_. wonderful! of the rest of these definitions, the reader will determine whether they be not every one of them pitiful; and if it was possible for the doctor, or any other man, to convey _less_ information, on so plain a subject. 'in comparing this with other dictionaries of the same kind, it will be found that the senses of each word are more _copiously_ enumerated, and more _clearly_ explained[ ].' of his _clear_ and _copious_ explanations, here is an additional specimen. beast. 'an animal distinguished from birds, insects, fishes, and man.' it is also distinguished from _reptiles_, though the doctor cannot tell us _how_. a reptile is (but sometimes only) '_an animal that creeps upon many feet_.' a snail is 'a slimy animal that creeps upon plants.' many animals creep on plants besides a snail. he dare not venture to say that a snail is _a reptile_, for he had said that a reptile creeps upon many feet, and a snail has none. locke is quoted to prove that a _bird_ is a _fowl_, and we are edified by hearing that a _fowl_ is a '_bird_, or a _winged_ animal.' but this may be the butterfly, the bat, or the flying fish. he should have said a _feathered_ animal. we are informed from creech and shakespeare, that a fish is _an animal that inhabits the water_. but besides amphibious animals, from the crocodile down to the water-mouse, we have seen _erucæ aquaticæ_, or water caterpillars, which are truly aquatic animals, yet are perfectly different from all fish. insects are 'so called from a separation in the middle of their bodies, whereby they they are cut into two parts, which are joined together by a small ligature, as we see in common flies.' _quere._ how many insects answer this description? dr. johnson had certainly no great occasion to quote peacham and swift before he durst tell us, (as he does) that a _lily_ is a _flower_, and _posteriors_ the _hinder_ parts. he forgot to introduce the dean when affirming, that a t----d is _excrement_; but both pope and swift (among others) are cited for p--ss and f--t. his learning and his ignorance amaze us in every page. pox are, ' . _pustules_; _efflorescencies_; _exanthematous_ eruptions. . the venereal disease.' a particular species of it _only_. the first part of this _clear_ explanation would puzzle every old woman in england, though most of them know more of small pox than the rambler himself. day. ' . the time between the rising and the setting of the sun, called the _artificial_ day. . the time from noon to noon, called the _natural_ day.' natural. 'what is produced by nature,' therefore as the day from sunrise to sunset is 'produced by nature,' _that_, and that only, must be the _natural_ day. artificial. 'made by _art_, not natural, fictitious, not genuine.' the day from noon to noon is certainly _not_ natural, and of consequence, _that_, and that only, must be the _artificial_ day. night is, ' . the time of darkness. . the time between sunset, and sunrise.' when the doctor acquires the first elements of geography, he will learn, that in no climate of the world is the time between sunset and sunrise all of it a time of _darkness_. even at the equator, night does not succeed till half an hour after sunset. if he has ever seen the sun rise here, he must also have seen that we have always day light long before the sun appears. in june our nights are never entirely dark. neither is _night_, when it really comes on, constantly the 'time of darkness,' for the doctor may frequently see to read his own mistakes by moonshine. of this profound period, the first part contradicts the second, and every body sees the absurdity of both. what are we to think of such a definer of 'scientific terms,' when his errors have not even the negative merit of consistency. snowbroth, _s._ (_snow_ and _broth_) 'very cold liquor.' and shakespeare is quoted; but when the poet said[ ] that the blood of an old courtier was as cold as _snowbroth_, he meant _melted snow_. now it is somewhat odd that every body can see shakespeare's idea exactly, except this learned commentator. lion. 'the fiercest and most magnanimous of four-footed beasts.' but fierceness cannot consist with magnanimity[ ]. other animals exceed the lion in fierceness; and a horse, an elephant, or a dog, equal his magnanimity. this definition contains nothing but a glaring contradiction, of which neither end is true! thunder 'thunder is a most _bright flame_ rising on a sudden, moving with great violence, and with a very _rapid_ velocity, through the air, _according_ to any determination, and commonly ending with a loud noise or rattling.' _shakespeare._ _milton._ it is needless to say that the learned and ingenious pensioner has confounded thunder with lightning. the inelegance and tautology of this definition i pass by; but why should he profane the names of milton and shakespeare to support such monstrous nonsense? stone. 'stones are bodies insipid, hard, not _ductile_ or _malleable_, nor _soluble_ in water.' this definition answers wood, or glass, or the bones of an animal. one. 'less than two; single; denoted by an unit.' _raleigh._ without consulting raleigh, we know that a man may have 'less than _two_' guineas in his pocket, and yet have more than _one_. but still we are not sure, that he has even a single farthing. one is _single_, but we are only where we started, for _single_ (_more lexiphanico_) is '_one_, not double; not more than one.' the matter is little mended, when he subjoins that one is _that which is expressed by an unit_, for this may be the numerator of _any_ fraction. take his book to pieces, put it into the scales of common sense, and see how it kicks the beam. a circle is, ' . a line continued till it ends where it began. . the space inclosed in a _circular_ line. . a round body, an orb.' the first of these definitions does not distinguish a circle from a triangle, or any other plain figure. he might have found a circle properly defined in euclid, and a hundred other books. what are we to think of the rest of his mathematical definitions? well, but he clears up this point, for a circle is 'the _space inclosed_ in a _circular_ line,' the third definition is no less erroneous than the second, for if a man were to mention the circle of the earth, we could not suspect that he meant the globe itself. botany and the electrical fluid, are not inserted. electricity he terms _a property_ in bodies. from this expression, and from all he says on the subject, we can ascertain his ignorance of that most curious and important branch of natural philosophy. _electricity_ in general signifies 'the operations of a very subtile fluid, commonly invisible, but sometimes the object of our sight and other senses. it is one of the chief agents employed in producing the phænomena of nature.' its identity with lightning was discovered in , three years before the publication of dr. johnson's folio dictionary. for the author then to talk of it as 'a _peculiar_ property, supposed once to belong chiefly to amber,' is shameful. it shews us the depth of his learning, and the degree of attention which he thought proper to bestow on his _great_ work. elasticity. 'force in bodies, by which they endeavour to _restore_ themselves.' to what? to their former figure, after some external pressure? and without adding some words like these the definition conveys no meaning. of water, we get a very long winded account, which neither dr. johnson nor any body else can comprehend, for he sinks into mere jargon. canst thou conceive (gentle reader) what are 'small, _smooth_, hard, _porous_, spherical particles' of water! _water_, says newton, 'is a fluid tasteless salt, which nature changes by heat, into vapour, and by cold into ice, which is a hard fusible brittle stone, and this stone returns into water by heat[ ].' boerhaave calls water, 'a kind of glass that melts at a heat any thing greater than degrees of farenheit's thermometer. the boundary between water and ice[ ].' claw. 'the _foot_ of a beast or bird armed with sharp nails.' nail. 'the talons of birds or beasts.' talon. 'the claw of a bird of prey.' _dict. th edit._ here a _nail_ is _talons_; talons are a _claw_; and a claw is said to be a _foot_ (alias a _nail_) armed with _nails_. the quotations are literal and complete. the words are all plain english. and if you cannot comprehend _a nail armed with nails_, wait upon dr. johnson, and perhaps he will explain it. legion. 'a body of roman soldiers, consisting of about _five_ thousand.' this is not accurate. the number of men in a roman legion rose by degrees from about to about . decemvirate. 'the dignity and office of the _ten_ governors of rome.' tribune. 'an officer of rome chosen by the people.' censor. 'an officer of rome, who had the power of correcting manners.' consul. 'the chief magistrate in the roman republic.' wherein did the decemviri differ from the king, the consul, the dictator, the triumvir, the military tribune, the cæsar, and the emperor, for all these were likewise 'governors of rome?' the decemviri were also an inferior set of men appointed to take care of the sybil's books, to conduct colonies, &c. so that this definition is very incompleat. a tribune was 'chosen by the people.' but this does not distinguish him from many other magistrates. the censor had 'the power of correcting manners;' but he had other powers beside that, and every magistrate had that power as well as he, though it was a province more peculiarly his. the censor is an officer still known in venice, and in countries where the liberty and abuse of the press are unknown, the licensers of books are called censors, though the doctor does not give us these two explanations of the word. a consul is 'the chief magistrate in the roman republic.' he was a magistrate long after the republic was dissolved; for caligula made his horse a consul! but tho' the consul was commonly _one_ of the chief magistrates in rome, he was never the _chief_, as the doctor roundly expresses it, for he had always a colleague. the censor was at least his equal, and the dictator was by law his superior. what we learn of the centurion, the triumvir, and the lictor, is very trifling. innumerable words which puzzle the plain reader of a roman historian are wanting, such as an Ædile, a prætor, a quæstor, a cæsar, a military tribune, the hastati, principes, triarii, velites, the labarum, or imperial standard, the balistæ, the balearians, &c. a _maniple_ is 'a small band of soldiers.' and a cohort is 'a troop of soldiers, containing about foot.' a cohort was in general the tenth part of the foot in a roman legion, consequently their number varied, and the prætorian cohort, or that to which the standard was intrusted, contained, at least in latter ages, many more men than any of the rest. but in the very page where this concise author thus blunders about a cohort, he takes care to tell us, that _coition_, is _copulation_; _the act of generation_. that cold is '_not hot_, not warm, chill, having sense of cold, having cold qualities.' that _coldly_ is '_without heat_.' that coldness is '_want of heat_;' and a heap of similar jargon. blot. 'a blur.' blur. 'a blot.' the doctor's admirers will answer, that in so large a work there was no room for full definitions. i reply, that his account of whipgrafting, of will-with-a-wisp, of a wood-louse, and of the stool of repentance, are very full; that if he was to say no more of a roman consul, he should have said nothing at all; but that there are other books of the same kind, and of half the price too, which find room for copious and useful definitions. pardon's dictionary is not much less than the doctor's octavo, though its price is only six shillings; ( th edition) and of many useful articles, such as the roman legion, there is a very clear and full explanation. besides which, it contains a description of the counties, the cities, and the market towns in england; and in the end of the book there is inserted a list of near proper names, none of which are to be found in the doctor's dictionary. with what then has dr. johnson filled his book? with words of his own coining, with roots, and authorities often ridiculous, and always useless; or with definitions impertinent and erroneous. a bashaw he calls 'the viceroy of a province;' and he might as well have said that every man in england is six feet high. a condoler is 'one who _compliments_ another upon his misfortunes.' from the rambler's _accurate_ and _profound_ knowledge of anatomy, we must form very high expectations as to his knowledge of medicine, and we are not disappointed; for arthritis is 'the gout' and the gout is 'arthritis; a _periodical_ disease attended with great pain.' the first part of this definition is not true; and the second will not distinguish the gout from the gravel, the tooth-ach, &c. &c. gravel is 'sandy matter concreted in the kidneys,' and as often in the bladder too. his account of a gonnorhoea is no less incomplete. a _headach_ is 'a pain in the head.' _jaundice_ is 'a distemper from obstructions of the glands of the liver, which prevent the gall being duly separated from the blood.' the doctor seems to have borrowed his system of anatomy from the antients; for the moderns have discovered that the liver (which he ingeniously calls 'one of the entrails') is itself an indivisible gland. the jaundice arises from an obstruction in the biliary ducts. tympany is 'a kind of obstructed _flatulence_, that swells the body like a drum.' _flatulence_ is not inserted; but flatulency is said to be 'windiness; fulness of wind.' and what does he mean by an obstructed fullness of wind, or by his elegant simile of a drum? his descriptions of the rickets, rupture, rheumatism, scrophula, dropsy, scurvy, &c. are equally perspicuous and perfect. the doctor had no great occasion to attest, that '_the_ english dictionary was written with little assistance of the _learned_[ ].' for in almost every department of learning, from astronomy down to the first principles of grammar, his ignorance seems amazing. his book is a mass of words without ideas. through the whole there runs a radical corruption of truth and common sense. it is most astonishing that the _idler_ has hardly ever been attacked in this quarter by any of his innumerable invidious and inveterate enemies. i anticipate the answer of his admirers, viz. that 'the _nature_ of his work did not admit of a copious explanation for every word.' but let them first tell why he gave such a strange jumble of quotations, to support a word of which he himself knows not the meaning, and are we to be told that the _nature_ of _any_ work whatever, can entitle its author to write nonsense, or to write on a subject of which he knows nothing. indeed the doctor himself has repeatedly declared, that his book is deformed by a profusion of errors, and those who decline to credit my assertion, ought, perhaps, to credit _his own_. he says, 'i cannot hope, in the warmest moments to preserve so much caution through so long a work, as not often _to sink into negligence_, or to obtain so much knowledge of all its parts as not frequently _to fail by ignorance_. i expect that sometimes the desire of accuracy will urge me to superfluities, and sometimes the fear of prolixity betray me to _omissions_; that in the extent of such variety, i shall be often _bewildered_, and in the mazes of such _intricacy_[ ], be _frequently entangled_, &c.[ ]' here is a beautiful confession, which he afterwards recants: for 'despondency has never so far prevailed, as to depress me to _negligence_,' &c.[ ] but his recantation is in effect immediately _re-recanted_, and we are informed, 'that a few _wild blunders_, and risible _absurdities_, from which no work of such multiplicity was ever free, _may_ for a time furnish folly with laughter, and harden ignorance into contempt[ ].' that this distrust of his own merit did not arise from want of pride or vanity we discover within a few lines: for 'in this work' (_the_ english dictionary, as its author modestly terms it) 'when it shall be found that _much is omitted_, let it not be forgotten that _much_ likewise _is performed_. if our language is not here fully displayed, i have only failed in an attempt, which no human powers have hitherto completed.--i may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which _if_ i could obtain, in this gloom of solitude' (_london_, or its neighbourhood) 'what would it avail me[ ]?' and again, 'i have devoted this book, the labour of years, to the honour of my country[ ].' _item._ 'i cannot but have some degree of parental fondness.' but after all this parental fondness, this zeal for the honour of his country, the doctor's extraordinary preface concludes in perhaps the most extraordinary language that ever flowed from an author's pen. 'success and miscarriage are _empty sounds_, i therefore dismiss it' (his dictionary) 'with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or _hope_ from censure, or from praise.' all this is surely despicable. the booksellers had paid their workman on the nail, or the doctor would have had something to hope and fear. but an honest and sensible tradesman, though paid before-hand, will always wish and endeavour to please his employers. from this writer's own words, it would appear that he is incapable of a sentiment so generous. bawd 'a procurer, or procuress.' to bawd, _v. n._ 'to procure.' bawdily (from _bawdy_) 'obscenely.' bawdiness (from _bawdy_) 'obsceneness.' bawdry, _s._ ' . a wicked practise of procuring and bringing whores and _rogues_ together. . obscenity.' bawdy, _a._ (from _bawdy_) 'obscene, unchaste.' bawdyhouse. 'a house where traffic is made by wickedness and debauchery.' baggage. 'a worthless woman.' bitch. ' . the female of the _canine_ kind. . a name of reproach for a woman.' blackguard[ ]. 'a dirty fellow.' block. 'a blockhead.' blockhead. 'a stupid fellow; a dolt; a man without parts,' blunderer. 'a blockhead.' blockhead 'a stupid fellow' bloodletter. '_a phlebotomist._' suds. '_a lixivium_ of soap and water.' sun. 'the luminary that makes the day.' _the_ english dictionary is prodigiously defective--_nervi desunt._ it has no force of thought. this wilderness of words displays a mind, patient, but almost incapable of reasoning; ignorant, but oppressed by a load of frivolous ideas; proud of its own powers, but languishing in the last stage of hopeless debility. we have long extolled it with the wildest luxuriance of adulation, and we pretend to despise the worshippers of _the golden calf_. no man has done more honour to england, than mr locke. what would he have said or thought, had dr johnson's dictionary been published in his days? we can easily determine his opinion from several passages in his works. i select the following, because it is both short and decisive; and he who feels any respect for mr locke will retain little for the author of the rambler. his words are these: 'if any one asks _what this solidity is_[ ], i send him to his senses to inform him. let him put a flint, or a football between his hands, and then endeavour to join them _and he will know_. if he thinks this not a sufficient explication of _solidity_, what it is, and wherein it consists, i promise to tell him, what it is, and wherein it consists, when he tells me, what _thinking_ is, or wherein it consists, or explains to me what _extension_ or _motion_ is, which perhaps seems much easier. the simple ideas we have are such as experience teaches them us; but _if, beyond that, we endeavour by words to make them clearer_ in the mind, we shall succeed no better, than if we went about to clear up the darkness of a blind man's mind by talking, and discourse into him the ideas of light and colours[ ].' in the title page of his octavo, we learn, that 'the words are deduced from their originals.' and in the preface, he adds, that 'the etymologies and derivations, whether from foreign languages or native roots, are more diligently traced, and more distinctly noted, than in other dictionaries of the same kind.' mr whitaker assures us that in this single article the doctor has committed upwards of _three thousand_ errors: and the historical pioneer produces abundant evidence in support of his assertion[ ]. but independent of this curious circumstance, let us ask the doctor what he means by crouding such trifles into an abstract, which is, he says, intended for those who are 'to gain degrees of knowledge suitable to lower characters, or necessary to the common business of life.' to tell such people, that the word _porridgepot_ is compounded of _porridge_, and _pot_, is to insult their understandings; and of his greek and saxon roots, not one individual in a thousand can read even a single letter. the preface commences with a pitiful untruth. having mentioned the publication of his folio dictionary, he subjoins, 'it has _since_ been considered that works of that kind are by no means necessary for the bulk of readers.' here he would insinuate that the _abstract_ was an _after-thought_: but every body sees, that its publication was delayed, only to accelerate the sale of his folio dictionary. there is not room now left, to dissect every sentence in the preface to his octavo. i shall therefore conclude that subject with one particular, wherein the doctor's taste, learning, and genius, blaze in their meridian. in the title page to his octavo dictionary, we are informed, that the words are 'authorised by the names of the writers in whose works they are found.' and this tale is repeated at greater length in the preface, where 'it will be found that truth requires him to say less[ ]': for under letter a only, there are between four and five hundred words, for which the _idler_ has not assigned any authority--and of these one hundred and eighty are to be found in no language under heaven. he boasts indeed that his dictionary 'contains many words not to be found in any other.' but it also contains many words, not to be found at all in any other book. if we compute that letter a has a thirteenth part of these _recruits_, we shall find that the whole number scattered through his compilation exceeds two thousand. a purchaser of his _abstract_ has a title to ask the doctor, why the work is loaded with such a profusion of trash, which serves only to testify the folly of him who collected or created it. men of eminent learning have been consulted, who disown all acquaintance (in english) with most articles in the following list: abacus, abandonement, abarticulation, abcedarian, abcedary, aberrant, aberuncate, abject, _v. a._ ablactate, ablactation, ablation, ablegate, ablegation, ablepsy, abluent, abrasion, abscissa, absinthiated, abitention, absterge, accessariness, accidentalness, accipient, acclivious, accolent, accompanable, accroach, accustomarily, acroamatical, acronycal, acroters, or acroteria, acuate, aculerate, addulce, addenography, ademption, adiaphory, adjectitious, _adition_, abstergent, acceptilation, adjugate, adjument, adjunction, adjunctive, adjutor, adjutory, adjuvant, adjuvate, admensuration, adminicle, adminicular, admix, admonishment, _admurmuration_, adscititious, adstriction, advesperate, adulator, adulterant, adulterine, adumbrant, advolation, advolution, adustible, aerology, aeromancy, aerometry, aeroscopy, affabrous, affectuous, affixion, afflation, afflatus, agglomerate, agnation, agnition, agreeingness, alate, abb, alegar, alligate, alligation, allocution, amalgmate, amandation, ambidexterity, ambilogy, ambiloquous, ambry, ambustion, amende, amercer, amethodical, _amphibological_, _amphibologically_, amphisch, amplificate, amygdalate, amygdaline, anacamptick, anacampticks, _anaclacticks_, anadiplosis, anagogetical, anagrammatize, anamorphosis, anaphora, anastomosis, anastrope, anathematical, androgynal, androgynally, androgynus, anemography, anemometer, _anfractuousness_, angelicalness, _angiomonospermous_, angularity, angularness, anhelation, aniented, anileness, anility, animative, annumerate, annumeration, annunciate, anomalously, ansated, antaphroditick, antapoplectick, antarthritick, antasthmatick, anteact, auscultation, antemundane, antepenult, antepredicament, anthology, anthroposophy, anthypnotick, antichristianity, auxiliation, antinephritick, antinomy, antiquatedness, apert, apertly, aphilanthrophy, aphrodisiacal, aphrodosiack, apocope, apocryphalness, apomecometry, appellatory, apsis, aptate, aptote, aqua, aquatile, aqueousness, aquose, aquosity, araignee, aratory, arbuscle, archchanter, archaiology, archailogick, archeus, arcuation, arenose, arenulous, argil, argillaceous, argute, arietate, aristocraticallness, armental, armentine, armigerous, armillary, armipotence, arrentation, arreptitious, arrison, authentickness, arrosion, articular, articulateness, austral, arundinaceous, arundineous, asbestine, ascriptitious, asinary, asperation, asperifolious, aspirate, _v. a._ assassinator, assumptive, astonishingness, astrography, attiguous, attinge, aucupation, avowee. of these words about forty only are proper, yet though they are so, and though they are frequently to be found in the best authors, yet the doctor has not given any authority for them. his reading therefore must have been very circumscribed, or his negligence very great. is the word _avowee_, for instance, one of those which 'are however, to be yet considered as resting only upon the credit of former dictionaries[ ].' besides these forty, there are under letter a, some hundreds of the most common words, for which no author's name is quoted. a gross omission according to the plan which he lays down. let us put the case, that a foreigner sits down to compose a page of english, by the help of dr johnson's work. the strange combinations of letters (for i dare not call them words) which swell his book to its present bloated size, are not marked with an asterisk, to distinguish them as barbarous: the novice would therefore adopt a stile unknown to any native of england. here is a short specimen of what he would say. 'an _admurmuration_ has long wandered about the world, that the pensioner's political principles are _anfractuous_. their _anfractuousness_, their _insipience_, and their _turpitude_, are no longer _amphibological_. his _nefarious repercussion_ of _obloquy_ must _contaminate_, and _obumbrate_, and who can tell but it may even _aberuncate_ his _feculent_ and _excrementitious celebrity_. his _perspicacity_ will see without _comity_, or _hilarity_, that his character as an author and a gentleman, requires _resuscitation_, for it is neither _immane_ nor _immarcessible_. this is a _homogeneous_ truth[ ]. let him distend, like the _flaccid_ sides of a football[ ], his _sal_, his _sapience_, and his powers of _ratiocination_. the _mellifluous_ and _numerose cadence_ of _equiponderant_ periods cannot ensure him from a _luxation_, a _laceration_, and a _resiliency_ of his _adminicular concatenation_ with the _rugged mercantile_ race[ ]. the loss of this _adscititious adminicle_ would make the sage's _impeccable_, but _lugubrious_ bosom vibrate with the horrors of _dilution_ and _dereliction_. his organs of vision would gush with _salsamentarious_ torrents of spherical particles, of equal diameters, and of equal specific gravities, as dr cheyne observes--their smoothness--their sphericity--their frictions, and their hardness,'[ ] &c. to the last edition (the th) of the folio dictionary, there is prefixed an advertisement, from which i have extracted a few lines: 'finding my dictionary about to be reprinted, i have endeavoured by a revisal to make it less reprehensible. i will not deny that i found _many parts requiring emendation_, and _many more capable of improvement_. _many faults_ i have corrected, some superfluities i have taken away, and some deficiencies i have supplied. i have methodised some parts that were _disordered_, and illuminated some that were _obscure_. yet the changes or additions bear a very small proportion to the whole.' that his improvements, bear a very small proportion to the quantity of errors still in his book is true, for after a long and painful search, i have only been able to trace out one alteration. the word _gazetteer_ is now defined without that insolent scurrility formerly quoted. but in this correct edition, thunder continues to be a _most bright flame_. whig is still the name of a faction; and a tory is said to be an adherent to the antient constitution of england. oats, excise, _monarch_, &c. are all in the same stile. nowise, _n. s._ '(_no_ and _wise_: this is commonly spoken and written by ignorant barbarians, _noways_). not in any manner, or degree.' theorem, _n. s._ 'a position laid down as an acknowledged truth.' here a schoolboy can detect the doctor's ignorance, for every body knows that this word has the _opposite_ meaning, which is indeed evident from the quotations that are intended to exemplify it. 'having found this the head _theorem_ of all their discourses, we hold it necessary that the _proofs_ thereof be weighed.' _hooker._ 'here are three _theorems_, that from thence we may draw some conclusions[ ].' _dryden._ no words can paint the doctor's want of attention. to piss, _v. n._ (pisser fr. pissen dutch) 'to make water. i charge the _pissing_ conduit run nothing but claret. _shakespeare._ one ass pisses, the rest _piss_ for company. _l'estrange._ the wanton boys _piss_ upon your grave. _dryden._' whoredom, _n. s._ (from _whore_) 'fornication. some let go _whoredom_ as an indifferent matter. _hale._' whorish, _a._ (from whore) 'unchaste, incontinent. by means of a _whorish_ woman a man is brought to a piece of bread. _proverbs._ i had as lief you should tell me of a mess of _porridge_[ ].' the reader has seen what a profusion of low, and even blackguard expressions are to be met with in the doctor's celebrated work. i shall now give an additional specimen of his _great_ work; and if, like some american savages, we cannot count our fingers, dr johnson himself will teach us how to do it; for he tells us, on _shakespeare's_ authority, that two is, 'one and one,' pope and creech are quoted to prove, that three is, 'two and one.' four is, 'two and two;' and, if you have the least doubt that 'four and one' make five, or that five is, 'the half of ten,' you will be silenced by the name of dryden. six is, 'twice three, one more than five.' seven is, 'four and three, one more than six.' eight is, 'twice four, a word of number.' nine is, 'one more than eight.' ninth is, 'that which precedes the tenth.' ten is, 'the decimal number, twice five.' tenth is, 'first after the ninth, the ordinal of ten.' eleven is, 'ten and one.' eleventh is, 'the next in order to the tenth, and is derived from eleven.' twelve is, 'two and ten;' and twelfth, 'second after the tenth, the ordinal of twelve.' thirteen is, 'ten and three.' fourteen is, 'four and ten.' fifteen is, 'five and ten.' fifteen, 'the ordinal of fifteen, the fifth after the tenth;' and, if you entertain any suspicion as to the verity of these definitions, read over boyle, brown, dryden, moses, raleigh, sandys, shakespeare, and bacon. thirdly is, in the 'third place.' thrice, 'three times,' threefold, 'thrice repeated, consisting of three.' threepence, (_three_ and _pence_) 'a small silver coin, valued at thrice a penny.' threescore, a. (_three_ and _score_) 'thrice twenty, sixty.' pope, raleigh, wiseman, shakespeare, brown, dryden, and spencer, are cited to convince you, that these explanations are accurate. and the other articles of numeration, with all their derivations, definitions, and the passages which are quoted to support them, would fill a sixpenny pamphlet. and this is one recipe for making a book worth four guineas! a farthing is, 'the fourth part of a penny, and a penny is, _a small coin_[ ], of which twelve make a shilling.' a shilling is 'now twelve pence.' a pound is, 'the sum of twenty shillings;' and, if thou hast forgot the worth of a guinea, know that it is 'a gold coin, valued at one and twenty shillings;' for dryden, locke, and cocker, have said all this. a punk is, 'a whore, a common prostitute;' and a puppy is, 'a whelp, the progeny of a bitch, a name of contemptuous reproach to a man.' to _mew_ is, 'to cry as a cat.' to kaw is, 'to cry as a raven, crow, or rook; and the cry of a raven or crow (and he might have added, of a jack daw too) is kaw.' 'there are men (says dr johnson) who claim the name of authors, merely to disgrace it, and fill the world with volumes, only to bury letters in their own rubbish. the traveller who tells, in a pompous folio, that he saw the _pantheon_ at _rome_, and the _medicean venus_ at _florence_; the natural historian, who, describing the productions of a narrow island, recounts all that it has in common with every other part of the world; the collector of antiquities, that accounts every thing a curiosity, which the ruins of herculaneum happen to emit, though an instrument already shown in a thousand repositories, or a cup common to the antients, the moderns, and all mankind, may be justly censured as the persecutors of students, and the _thieves_ of that time, which never can be restored[ ].' the traveller who visits rome and florence, and gives an account of what he saw to the world, without describing the pantheon and the medicean venus, will, very properly, be censured as an ignorant and tasteless wanderer. the historian who describes an island, whether wide or narrow, ought to begin by telling if it produces water, grass, wood, and corn. a sword, a bow, and a dagger, are common to the antients, the moderns, and almost all mankind; yet, if any roman military weapon were discovered in the ruins of herculaneum, it would deservedly be the object of curiosity, and a collector of antiquities might describe it without being censured, in dr johnson's polite style, as a _thief of time_. of this passage, however, the leading idea is just; and, had the doctor been able to express himself with precision, it would have served, in an admirable manner, to delineate the character of the author of those passages which we have just now been reading from his dictionary. a puppy is said to be, 'the progeny of a bitch,' but so is the bitch herself. repleviable is, 'what may be _replevined_.' repair is, 'reparation;' and reparation is, 'the act of repairing.' a republican is, 'one who thinks a commonwealth, without monarchy, the best government.' but this is only half a definition; for every subject of a republic, is a republican, whether he think it the best government or not. republican, a. (from republic) is, 'placing the government in the people.' is venice under the government of the people? it is curious enough to hear such an author as ben johnson cited to prove what a republic is. the reader will compute what title the doctor has to the character given him by a late writer, viz. that 'his great learning and genius render him one of the most _shining_ ornaments of the present age.' a looking-glass is, 'a glass which shews forms reflected;' but so will a common glass bottle; though we never term it a looking-glass. he says it is compounded of _look_ and _glass_; but, if the reader happens to think it is derived from _looking_ and _glass_, the doctor cannot confute him. a knave is, 'a petty rascal, a scoundrel.' a _loon_ is, 'a sorry fellow, a scoundrel.' a _looby_ is, 'a lubber, a clumsy clown.' a _lubber_ is, 'a sturdy drone, an idle, fat, bulky _losel_, a booby.' a _losel_ is, 'a scoundrel, a sorry worthless fellow.' a _lubbard_ is, 'a lazy sturdy fellow.' a _booby_ is--but you must know what it is, while you read, in these elegant definitions, the taste and genius of dr johnson. he says, that bone is, 'the solid parts of the body of an animal.' are not the fat and the muscles also solid? a volume is, 'something rolled or convolved;' and so is a barrel, a foot-ball, and a blanket. but a volume is likewise '_as much as seems convolved at once_;' an expression hardly intelligible; and it is a book. a book, we are told, is, 'a volume, in which we read or write;' and whether we read and write in it or not. 'v has two powers expressed in english by two characters, v, consonant, and u, vowel.' one would think these were two different letters, as much as any others in the alphabet. the same remark applies to letters i and j, which the doctor has blended. it is remarkable that this _english_ dictionary begins with a _latin_ word; and the doctor has inserted it without giving an authority. a ketch is, 'a _heavy_ ship;' and a junk is, 'a _small_ ship of china.' a sloop is, 'a small ship;' and a brigantine is, 'a light vessel;' but, it would have required little learning or ingenuity to have said, that, in our marine, a sloop has only one mast, except sloops of war, which have three; and, that a brigantine is a merchant ship with two. a brig, a lugger, a hooker, a schooner, a galliot, a galleon, a proa, a punt, a xebeque, and a snow, are not inserted in this _compleat_ english dictionary; but a cutter is, 'a nimble boat that _cuts_ the water.' did we ever hear of a boat that did not cut the water? this explanation, like that of at least twenty thousand others, is defective; because, besides a man of war's boat, the word cutter is applied to a small vessel with one mast, rigged as a sloop, that sails very near the _wind_; from which peculiarity, its appellation is derived. a cannon is, 'a gun larger than can be managed by the hand.' cannon-ball and cannon shot are, 'the balls which are shot from great guns.' mr locke is cited to shew, that _cannot_ is compounded of _can_ and _not_. menstruous is, 'having the catamenia;' and this last word is wanting, a frequent mode of _definition_ in this book. the eye is, 'the organ of vision.' eye-drop, (_eye_ and _drop_) 'tear.' see also eye-ball, eye-brow, eye-glance, eye-glass, eyeless, eye-lid, eye-sight, eye-sore, eye-tooth, eye-wink, eye-witness. eye-string is, 'the string of the eye[ ].' the following names are cited to support the explanations: dryden, spencer, newton, milton, garth, bacon, samuel, peter, and shakespeare four times. the man who can make such a pedantic parade of erudition, must be a mere quack in the business of book-building; and the reader who thinks himself edified by hearing, that an eye-wink is, 'a wink as a hint or token,' must be an object of pity. but there is no such reader. _quere._ do we never wink but as a hint or token? achor is, 'a species of the _herpes_;' and hey, 'an expression of joy.' a mocker is,'one who mocks;' and a laughing-stock, (_laugh_ and _stock_) a 'butt, an object of ridicule.' iron, a. is, 'made of iron;' and iron, s. is said to be, 'a metal common to all parts of the world;' which is not the fact. numskull, _s._ (_numb_ and _skull_) 'a _dullard_; a dunce; a dolt; a blockhead.' numskulled, _a._ (from _numskull_) 'dull; stupid; doltish.' nun, _s._ 'a woman dedicated to the severer duties of religion, secluded in a cloister from the world.' the nuns of london were _not_ employed in the severer duties of religion, which has nothing to do with severity. the institution of nunneries is the most atrocious insult upon human feelings, that ever disgraced the selfish and brutal policy of the roman priesthood, and its consequences are the most shocking and criminal. the man who would palliate such an outrage on christianity, deserves no quarter[ ]. from this sample of his good sense and piety, one would hardly rank the rambler above 'a domestic animal, that catches mice.' jack is, ' . the diminutive of john. . the name of _instruments_, which supply the place of a boy, _as an instrument_ to pull off boots.' bronchocele, _s._ 'a tumor of that part of the _aspera tertia_, called the _bronchos_,' and this last word is wanting. broom is 'a shrub;' and brogue 'a kind of shoe.' see also broomstaff, broomy, broth, brothel, and brothelhouse. bubo, 'the groin from the bending of the thigh to the _scrotum_;' but the _scrotum_ is not explained. snot. 'the mucus of the nose.' nose. 'the prominence on the face, which is the organ of _scent_, and the emunctory of the brain.' he should have said the organ of _smell_, for we do not say the sense of _scenting_. but from what he says of them, it appears that he is ignorant of the distinction between these two words. if the nose were the emunctory of the brain (which every surgeon's apprentice knows that it is _not_), in that case snot could not be the mucus of the nose, but the mucus of the brain. it belongs to neither. it is entirely, or principally formed in the glands of the throat, as we see every day in coughing. to contradict such inconsistencies, would be below the dignity of any writer, if they were found in a book less famous than the english dictionary. rust. 'the red _desquamation_ of old iron.' desquamation. 'the act of scaling foul bones.' sinew. ' . a tendon; the ligaments by which the joints are moved. . _muscle_ or _nerve_!' other metals rust as well as iron, and rust is not always red; that of copper for instance is blue or green. it is not quite clear why the word _desquamation_ is introduced. but his account of _sinew_ exceeds every thing of the kind. highflier. 'one that carries his opinion to extravagance.' the word relates to a particular set of men in this country, and to them only. a dervise, a friar, and a bramin, profess extravagant opinions; but an english writer would not call them _highfliers_, nor would he be understood if he did. chervill. 'an _umbelliferous_ plant.' periwig. '_adscititious_ hair.' chemist, and chemistry are omitted, but chymistry is, 'philosophy by fire;' and chymist, 'a philosopher by fire!' with what inexpressible contempt would the youngest of dr black's audience hear these definitions? the folly of the man, who can scribble such jargon is eclipsed by the superlative ignorance of those who vindicate and admire him. dr johnson asserts, that shakespeare 'has corrupted language by every mode of depravation[ ].' the remark applies to himself. and his advocates must allow, that 'they endure in _him_ what they should in another loath and despise[ ].' indeed i can very well believe the doctor, when he says, that his book was composed while he was in a state of distraction[ ]. for the honour of his veracity, we may hope, that he was likewise _distracted_ when he observed of the social, facetious, and celebrated john wilkes, esq; that 'lampoon would disdain to speak ill of him, of whom no man speaks well[ ].' part of his book has merit; but take it altogether, and perhaps it is the strangest farrago which pedantry ever produced. it will be said that these are partial specimens, but we have traced him through various _ramifications_ of learning, and found his ignorance extreme. a sensible reader will try his own abilities, in judging of the doctor's _great_ performance. nor will he throw down this pamphlet without a candid perusal, because, by some unaccountable infatuation, the dictionary has for twenty seven years been admired by thousands and ten thousands, who have never _seen_ it. let us exert that courage of thought, and that contempt of quackery, which to feel, and to display, is the privilege and the pride of a briton. in a country where no man fears his king, can any man fear the sound of a celebrated name, or crouch behind the the banner of dullness, because it is born by samuel johnson, a.m. & ll.d.? i shall now take leave of this enormous compilation, and return, for a few pages, to the rest of his works. * * * * * speaking of pope's edition of shakespeare, dr johnson observes, 'that on this undertaking, to which pope was induced by a reward of two hundred and seventeen pounds, twelve shillings, he seems never to have reflected afterwards _without vexation_[ ].' the doctor ought never to reflect 'without vexation' on his own edition of shakespeare. he published his proposals in , but the work itself did not appear till , and then, though the world was warmly prejudiced in his favour, and tho' he had plundered every thing which he thought valuable, from all his predecessors, yet his performance was received with general disregard. his preface was the particular butt of censure; his deficiencies were detected 'with all the insolence of victory;' and the public were, for once, inclined to say of him, what he says of mr theobald, viz. that he was 'a man of heavy diligence, with very slender powers[ ].' indeed the doctor persecutes the name of theobald with the most rancorous spirit of revenge. in his proposals for printing shakespeare, he tells us, 'that mr theobald, if fame be just to his memory, considered his learning only as an instrument of gain, and made no farther enquiry after his authour's meaning, when once he had notes sufficient to embellish his page with the expected decorations.' if theobald was poor, he was certainly prudent in considering his learning as an instrument of gain. in this point, he has been exactly copied by no less a personage than dr johnson himself. but the doctor has not ventured to say that theobald was a venal prostituted dabbler in politics; that he insulted his king, till he received a pension; and that when he had received his pension, he insulted his country. no. 'the old books, the cold pedantry, and sluggish pertinacity of theobald,' never excited the serious contempt or indignation of mankind. dr johnson asserts, 'that when theobald published shakespeare in opposition to pope, the _best_ notes were supplied by warburton[ ].' this is an assertion without a proof, and merits no regard; for his veracity keeps pace with his candour. the admirers of pope will be sensible of the good nature and honesty of dr johnson, from the following unqualified assertion: 'the great object of his (pope's) ridicule is _poverty_; the crimes with which he reproaches his antagonists are their debts, their habitation in the mint, and their want of a dinner. he seems to be of an opinion, not very uncommon in the world, that to want money is to want every thing[ ].' the crimes with which pope reproaches the duncenian heroes are slander and _forgery_[ ], most of them were not only bad writers, but bad men; and it is only in the latter point of view, that the poet considered them as fair objects of ridicule. had pope been capable of insulting honest indigence, his reputation and his glory must have been for ever blasted. the humanity of englishmen would have rejected, with horror, such impious wit. the last part of this malicious paragraph is, after a few pages, contradicted by dr johnson himself. had pope been of opinion, that _to want money is to want every thing_, he would not have assisted dodsley 'with a hundred pounds that he might open a shop--of the subscription of forty pounds a-year that he raised for savage, twenty were paid by himself. he was accused of loving money, but his love was eagerness to gain, not solicitude to keep it. in the duties of friendship, he was zealous and constant. it does not appear that he lost a _single_ friend by coldness, or by injury; those who loved him once, continued their kindness[ ].' this cannot be the picture of a man who insulted innocent misery. the doctor is perpetually giving us strokes of his own character. thus, of mr thomson we are informed, 'that he was "more fat than bard beseems," of a _dull_ countenance, and a _gross, unanimated, uninviting_ appearance.' this is the rambler's portrait, but when applied to the author of the seasons, it is not true, for mr murdoch assures us, 'that his worst appearance was, when you saw him walking alone, in a thoughtful mood; but let a friend accost him, and enter into conversation, he would instantly brighten into a most amiable aspect, his features no longer the same, and his eye darting a peculiar animated fire. his looks always announced, and half expressed what he was about to say[ ].' the doctor fills up several pages with blotted variations from pope's manuscript translation of the iliad. he exults in this precious production, and foresees that the wisest of his readers will wish for more. having perused a few lines of it only, i cannot pretend to rate the value of this commodity: but a plain reader will be apt to suspect that the doctor has on this, as on former occasions, adopted the prudent proverb,_ multum scribere, multum solvere_. if lexiphanes _overflows with greek_, he may, by comparing pope with homer, afford much entertainment. 'wives and husbands are, indeed, incessantly complaining of each other[ ].'--not unless both are fools, nor always then. for the credit of its author, i suppress the sequel of this unhappy period. dr johnson observes, that mr addison, 'by a serious display of the beauties of chevy chace, exposed himself to the ridicule of wagstaff.--in chevy chace there is _not much_ of either bombast or affectation, but there is chill and lifeless imbecility. the story cannot possibly be told in a manner that shall make _less_ impression on the mind[ ].' this is a most scandalous criticism; no man who ever heard the ballad, will hear it with patience. the doctor's pious intention seems to have been to lessen the reputation of addison. let him who falsifies without shame, be chastised without mercy[ ]. though dr johnson long acted as reviewer of books for the gentleman's magazine, and though he often exercised his pen in that capacity with the most grovelling insolence, yet he cannot speak with patience of his rivals in that branch of trade. 'we have now,' says he, 'among other disturbers of human quiet, a numerous body of reviewers and remarkers[ ].' he is angry with lord lyttleton, for having once condescended to correspond with the critical reviewers. he observes, that the critical reviewers, 'can satisfy their hunger only by devouring their brethren. i am far from imagining that they are naturally more ravenous or blood-thirsty, than those on whom they fall with so much violence and fury; but they are _hungry_, and _hunger_ must be satisfied; and these savages, when their bellies are full, will fawn on those whom they now bite[ ].' they have lately[ ] celebrated the doctor's great candour, of which this passage is the best evidence that 'will easily be found.' i finish this essay by reciting the circumstance which gave it birth. in , mr william shaw published an analysis of the gaelic language. he quoted specimens of gaelic poetry, and harangued on its beauties, with the aukward elocution of one who did not understand them. a few months ago, he printed a pamphlet. he traduced decent characters. he denied the existence of gaelic poetry, and his name was echoed in the newspapers as a miracle of candour. is there in the annals of grubæan impudence any parallel to this? is there any nation in the world except _one_, perpetually deluded by a succession of impostors? are these the blessed fruits of that freedom which patriots perish to defend? if there be no pillory, no whipping post for such accumulated guilt, we may truly say with shakespeare, that 'liberty plucks justice by the nose.' this incomparable bookbuilder, who writes a dictionary before he can write grammar, had previously boasted what a harvest he would reap from english credulity. he was not deceived. the bait was caught; and the voice of truth was for some time drowned in the clamours of the rabble. mr shaw wants only money. he thinks only how to get it, and with a courage that is respectable, avowed his intentions. but better things might have been expected from the moral and majestic author of the rambler. he must have seen the analysis of the gaelic language, for shaw mentions him as the patron of that work. he must have seen the specimens of celtic poetry there inserted. that he is likewise the patron of this poor scribble, no man, i suppose, will offer to deny. from this single circumstance, dr johnson stands convicted of _an illiberal intention to deceive_. candour can hardly hesitate to sum up his character in the vulgar but expressive pollysyllable. it will be demanded, why a private individual, without interest or connections, presumes to interfere in the quarrels of the learned? but when the most shameless of mankind, is _hired_ to abuse the characters of his countrymen, to blast the reputations of the living and the dead; when _such_ a tool is employed for _such_ a purpose, that those who are insulted cannot with propriety stoop to a reply,--then the highest degree of goodness may degenerate into the lowest degree of weakness, silence becomes approbation, and tenderness and delicacy deserve different names. he is unfit to be the friend of virtue who cannot defend her dignity; who dares not execute her vengeance. in this shameful affair, one circumstance does honour to dr johnson. _his friendship is not exhausted in a compliment._ he does not excite expectation merely to disappoint it. he resembles not some perfidious wretches, whom his intrepid eloquence hath so properly pointed out to public indignation. exerting the generosity which often ennobles the character of an englishman, he engages not his dependant in a performance for which he scruples to pay. to glean the tithe of this man's absurdities cannot be of peculiar consequence to me: but the world is long since weary of his arrogant pedantry, his officious malice, his detested assiduity to undermine his superiors, and overbear his equals. reformation is never quite hopeless, and by submitting to make a catalogue of his errors, there is a chance to humble and reform him. perhaps indeed, like '_the drudges of sedition_, he will hear in sullen silence, he will feel conviction without shame, and be confounded, but not abashed[ ].' i have not arrested a few careless expressions, which, in the glow of composition, will sometimes escape, but by fair, and copious quotations from dr johnson's ponderous abortions, have attempted to illustrate his covetous and shameless prolixity; his corruptions of our language; his very limited literature; his entire want of general learning; his antipathy to rival merit; his paralytick reasoning; his solemn trifling pedantry; his narrow views of human life; his adherence to contradictions; his defiance of decency; and his contempt of truth. i have not been sporting in the mere wantonness of assertion. i have produced such various, such invincible, such damning proofs, that the doctor himself must feel a burst of conviction. to collect every particle of _inanity_ which may be found in our _patriot's_ works is infinitely beyond the limits of an eighteen-pence pamphlet. i stop at present here, but the subject seems _inexhaustible_[ ]! _finis._ footnotes: [ ] read mr mason's ode to truth, and pick out a single sentiment if you can. [ ] world, no. . [ ] swift had the splendid misfortune to be a man of genius. by a very singular felicity, he excelled both in verse and prose. he boasted, that no _new_ word was to be found in his volumes; though, in glory above all writers of his time, he did not fancy _that_ entitled him to ingross or insult conversation. he was no less remarkably clean, than _some_ are remarkably dirty. his love of fame never led him into the lowest of all vices; and a sense of his own dignity made him respect the importance and the feelings of others. he often went many miles on foot, that he might be able to bestow on the poor, what a coach would have cost him. he raised some hundreds of families from beggary, by lending them five pounds a-piece only. he inspired his footmen with celtic attachment. whatever was his pride, he shewed none of it in 'the venerable presence of misery.' though a poet he was free from vanity; though an author and a divine, his example did not fall behind his precepts; though a courtier, he disdained to fawn on his superiors; though a patriot, he never, like our successive generations of blasted orators, sacrificed his principles to his passions. 'his meanest talent was his wit.' his learning had no pedantry, his piety no superstition; his benevolence almost no parallel. his intrepid eloquence first pointed out to his oppressed countrymen, that path to independence, to happiness, and to glory, which their posterity, at this moment, so nobly pursue. his treatise on the conduct of their foreign allies, first taught the english nation the dangers of a continental war, dispelled their delusive dreams of conquest, and stopt them in the full career to ruin. [ ] see parallel between diogenes and dr johnson in town and country magazine. in his life of swift, the doctor tells us, that 'he relieved without pity, and assisted without kindness.' [ ] idler, no. . [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] life of pope. [ ] the following extracts from the doctor's dictionary are a key to his political tenets: excise, a hateful tax levied upon commodities, and adjudged, not by the common judges of property, but _wretches_ hired by those to whom excise is paid. _gazetteer_, was lately a term of the utmost infamy, being usually applied to wretches that were _hired_ to vindicate the court. _pension_, an allowance made to any one without an equivalent. in england it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country. _pensioner_, a slave of state, hired by a stipend to obey his master. king, monarch, supreme governour. _monarch_, a governour invested with _absolute_ authority, a _king_. _whig_, . whey, . the name of a _faction_. _tory_, one who adheres to the _antient_ constitution of the state, and the apostolical hierarchy of the church of england, opposed to a _whig_. _johnson's fol. dic._ the word _faction_ is always used in a _bad_ sense; though, in defining it, the doctor did not, and, after what he had said of a whig, perhaps durst not say, that a faction is always a term for the supposed disturbers of public peace. 'the most obsequious of the slaves of pride, the most rapturous of the gazers upon wealth, the most officious of the whisperers of greatness, are collected from seminaries appropriated to the study of wisdom and of virtue;' _rambler_, no. . that is to say, men of learning are a set of the most sneaking, pitiful, time-serving rascals. the reader will make his own applications. [ ] see _political tracts by the author of the rambler_. his character of hambden, the reader will find in the st page of waller's life. of milton, he says, that 'his impudence had been at least equal to his other powers. such was his malignity, that hell grew darker at his frown. he thought women born only for obedience, and men only for rebellion.' there is much more in the same tone; and, with what justice his epithets are applied, let englishmen judge. [ ] taxation no tyranny. [ ] ibid, no. . [ ] idler, no. . [ ] tour, p. . [ ] tour, p. . [ ] idler, no. . [ ] he should have said _causes_, for he mentions _two_.--what is the doctor's distinction here between habit and custom? [ ] _quere_, are we more accustomed to beauty than deformity? or is not the fact otherwise.--did habit ever make a sick man fond of disease, or a poor man fond of poverty? [ ] vide preface to folio dict. [ ] dr campbell of aberdeen, on the use of new words, says, 'that nothing can be juster than johnson's manner of arguing on this subject, in regard to what swift a little chimerically proposeth, that though new words be introduced, none should be suffered to become obsolete.' this gentleman ought to have consulted swift himself. let him peruse the 'petty treatise,' and then let him blush for having trusted an author void of fidelity. [ ] as the venerable and admirable father of _the_ english dictionary has treated the names of such men as young and lyttleton with so little ceremony, the reader will perhaps forgive the insertion of his own character, as drawn by chesterfield. 'i am almost in a fever, whenever i am in his company. his figure (without being deformed) seems made to disgrace or ridicule the common structure of the human body. his legs and arms are never in the position, which, according to the situation of his body, they ought to be in; but constantly employed in committing acts of hostility upon the graces. he throws any where but down his throat, whatever he means to drink; and only mangles what he means to carve. _inattentive to all the regards of social life_, he mistimes, or misplaces every thing. he disputes with heat, and indiscriminately, mindless of the rank, character, and situation, of those with whom he disputes; absolutely ignorant of the several gradations of familiarity or respect, he is exactly the same to his superiors, his equals, and his inferiors; and therefore by a necessary consequence absurd to two of the three. is it possible to love such a man? no. the utmost i can do for him, is to consider him as a respectable hottentot.' churchill's account of our hero comes nearly to the same. and i presume that the inimitable dr smollet, has exhibited a third picture of this illustrious original in humphry clinker, vol. .--dr johnson's letter to the earl of chesterfield concludes in these words: 'whatever be the event of my endeavours, i shall _not easily_ regret an attempt which has procured me the honour of appearing thus publicly, my lord, your lordship's most obedient, and most humble servant, sam. johnson.' these extracts afford a striking contrast between the severity of the polite peer, and the humble politeness (for _once_) of the rugged pedant. [ ] lives of english poets, vol. iii. p. and . _mo_ edit. [ ] vide life of dryden. [ ] vid. dict. article blood. [ ] _excogitation_, this combination of letters is to be found in the doctor's works, though not in his dictionary. [ ] rasselas, chap. vi. [ ] he meant to say _there_. [ ] tour, p. . and . &c. [ ] tour, p. . [ ] ibid, p. . [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] tour, p. &c. [ ] tour, p. . [ ] ibid, p. . [ ] vid. folio dictionary. [ ] tour, p. . [ ] butler's life. [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] ibid. [ ] vid. plutarch. [ ] tour, p. . [ ] tour, p. . [ ] ibid, p. . [ ] the doctor ought to have said, 'for _these reasons_,' as he mentions several. [ ] pope's life. [ ] he should have said, _no poet_; for that was his meaning, if he had any. no _writer_, includes prose as well as verse; and this sample may give us a fair idea of the doctor's _accuracy_ in point of style. [ ] life of pope. [ ] ibid. [ ] gray's life. [ ] gray's life. [ ] gentleman's magazine, vol. xvii. [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] edinburgh review, vol. iii. p. . _et seq._ [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] life of pope. [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] pastor cum traheret per freta navibus, &c. [ ] gray's life. dr. beattie of aberdeen differs very widely from dr. johnson on the merit of this poem. he says, 'i have heard the finest ode in the world (meaning gray's bard) blamed for the boldness of its figures, and for what the critic was pleased to call obscurity.' beattie's essays on poetry and musick, d edit. p. . this is, certainly very strong; yet he seems in some danger of contradicting himself, when he says in another place, that 'for energy of words, vivacity of description, and _apposite_ variety of numbers, dryden's feast of alexander is superior to any ode of horace or pindar now extant.' ibid, p. . one would have been apt to suppose that the lyrick poem which eclipsed horace, if not the finest, is at least one of 'the finest in the world.'--but an author has novelty to recommend him, when he affirms that gray is superior to dryden, and dryden to all antiquity. [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] gray's life. [ ] gray's life. [ ] a favourite phrase of the rambler's. [ ] gray's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] taxation no tyranny. [ ] taxation no tyranny. [ ] dryden's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] vide the life of garrick by mr davies. [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] ibid. [ ] churchill's apology. [ ] vide life of cowley. his impressions had been very slight, for crowley has nothing of the melody, or magnificence of the fairy queen. of its great author we know little but that he was praised, and neglected, unfortunate, and poor: and, from his epitaph, that he died young. his subject is not happy, his words are often obsolete, and his stanza can hardly please us long. but we may presume that he wanted leisure to study the great models of antiquity: that he wanted that tranquillity of mind so requisite to the success of a poet: and that his defects are owing to the bad taste of his age, and the hardships of his life. had he lived longer, and had he enjoyed that competence which a prudent shoeblack seldom fails to enjoy, spenser would have been second in fame to shakespeare only. [ ] dr johnson on cymbeline. the same sentiment is started in his account of pope, 'to the particular species of excellence men are directed, not by an ascendant planet, or predominant humour, but by the first book which they read, some early conversation which they heard, or some accident which excited ardour and emulation.'--the doctor is in this passage censuring pope's ignorance of human nature--while his own marvellous and extreme stupidity makes him almost beneath censure. the reader will not realize montesquieu's remark, that _when we attempt to prove things so evident we are sure never to convince_. [ ] annual register , part ii. p. . i abridge his words, but give their full meaning. [ ] life of waller. [ ] life of rowe. [ ] life of milton. [ ] life of swift. [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] ibid. [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] 'he has scenes of _undoubted_ and _perpetual_ excellence.' ibid. is there not some inconsistency in these various assertions. [ ] see in the same style his observations on prior, akenside, and others. [ ] _quere._ did ever shakespeare, or any other man, compose a single page, or even a single line, on any subject, without either straining his faculties, or at least soliciting his invention. it is very possible that the doctor did not suspect the full extent of his expression. [ ] vide dictionary. [ ] life of pope. [ ] ibid. [ ] pope's life. [ ] eloisa, letter . [ ] pope's life. [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] pope's life. [ ] ibid. [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] ibid. [ ] thomson's life. [ ] the author has no intention here to disseminate political opinions--his only meaning is to prove, that _somebody_ has neither principle, nor consistency, nor shame. [ ] life of shenstone. [ ] gentleman's magazine. [ ] vide life of milton. [ ] life of smith. [ ] tour, p. , mo edit. [ ] the crucifix--gulliver's travels. [ ] 'and read their history in a nation's eyes.' gray's elegy. [ ] on this subject nothing liberal could be expected from dr johnson, who, in spite of his murmurs about excise, and his actual benevolence in private life, has always been the firm advocate of oppression. his project of hiring the cherokees to massacre the north americans (vide supra p. ) may serve to inform us what he himself would have done, had he been seated in the saddle of authority. but what shall be said for some scottish historians who have adopted the same ideas? one of them tells us, that beaton had prepared a list of three hundred and sixty of the leaders of the protestant party, whose lives and fortunes were to be sacrificed to the rapacity and the pride of this ambitious prelate. yet he pronounces the killing of such a dangerous monster to be a most execrable deed. he dwells with studied exultation on the execution of charles i. but if our king really deserved his fate, was not beaton by many degrees more criminal? an author can hardly spend his time worse, than in writing to flatter the prejudices, and to corrupt the common sense of the world. [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] _quere._ what is _unquenchable_ curiosity? and how can a play excite curiosity which cannot be satisfied by its conclusion? [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] ibid. [ ] weekly mirror, no. . [ ] monthly review, on dr graham's pindaricks. [ ] dr johnson's life of pope. [ ] vide terence and the careless husband. [ ] vide dr johnson's life of shenstone. [ ] vide preface to dr johnson's octavo dictionary, th edition. [ ] vide measure for measure. [ ] vide dictionary. [ ] optics, p. . [ ] chem. i. p. . . [ ] preface to folio dictionary. [ ] perhaps he means, in defining _thunder_, _plum porridge_, the particle _but_, &c. [ ] letter to the earl of chesterfield. [ ] preface to folio dictionary. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] it is said that this word is not to be found in any book previous to the reign of james ii. and that it was derived from the priests who surrounded him. [ ] solidity. ' . fullness of matter; _not hollowness_. . firmness; hardness; compactness; _density_;' &c. &c. dr johnson's dictionary. every page is replete with jargon of this kind. [ ] essay, &c. book ii. chap. iv. sect. . [ ] history of manchester, vol. ii. [ ] preface to the octavo dictionary. [ ] vid. preface to folio dictionary. [ ] vide life of pope. [ ] vide rambler. [ ] the booksellers, vide life of dryden. [ ] vide dictionary, article water. [ ] dr johnson's dictionary, th edition, folio. [ ] ibid. [ ] it is needless to observe, that there is no such coin in existence. [ ] idler, no. . [ ] what string does the doctor mean? for, besides the optic nerve, there are six muscles, four straight, and two oblique, and other small nervous branches. [ ] it is surprising how some persons acquire the reputation of piety. the fervour of dr johnson's devotion cannot be denied by those who have seen him rise in the midst of a large company--fall down on his knees behind his chair, repeat his pater noster, and then resume his seat. this is one way to get a character for holiness, and it is an absolute fact. laud proved his title to the dignity of a saint, by doing all the mischief that lay in his power. he lighted up the flames of discord through three kingdoms. they were extinguished in the course of twenty years, by rivers of blood. 'knocking jack of the north' founded his reputation, by railing at the damnable sin of fornication, destroying great numbers of fine buildings, and insulting the person of his sovereign. his character was completely detestable, which is evident from the whole tenor of his life and writings, from his 'blast against women,' and above all, from his insolence to queen mary, a princess the most admired, the most beautiful, the most injured, and the most unfortunate of her age. [ ] preface to shakespeare. [ ] ibid. dr johnson on shakespeare. [ ] preface to folio dictionary. [ ] false alarm. [ ] life of pope. [ ] life of pope. [ ] ibid. [ ] ibid. [ ] let budgell charge low grubstreet on my quill-- and write whate'er he please, _except my_ will! epistle to arbuthnot. [ ] life of pope. [ ] vide life prefixed to his works. [ ] rambler, no. . [ ] life of addison. [ ] dr johnson's reputation is raised to such a height, that many writers do not think their productions can be successful, unless they have his liberty to acknowledge their obligations to him. this tribute of gratitude generally occupies a splendid dedication, or the second paragraph in the author's preface, and we are sometimes reminded in a marginal note of his particular respect for the doctor. by a man of tolerable information, such eulogiums cannot be perused without intense disgust. but one of these gentlemen has boasted of the doctor's approbation of a work, which, had he ever been consulted, he would have _damned beyond all depth_. dr percy has published three volumes of english ballads, and as an apology for this work, he says in his preface, that he could refuse nothing to such judges as the late mr shenstone, and--the author of the rambler. now take notice, that the very first poem in the collection, and one of the very best in the whole of it, is chevy chace! dr percy admires it. dr johnson ridicules it in the roughest terms. what are we to think of this; and what must dr percy feel when he reads the passage just now quoted from his friend? if dr johnson thinks chevy chace so insufferably dull, how must he have sickened in the perusal of many pieces in that collection. [ ] fugitive pieces. vol. ii. p. . [ ] ibid, p. . [ ] review for august . [ ] vide false alarm. [ ] though dr johnson has on all occasions expressed the utmost contempt and aversion for the scots, yet they have in general been solicitous to soothe his pride. dr smollet says, that 'johnson, inferior to none in philosophy, philology, and poetry, stands foremost as an essayist, justly celebrated for the strength, dignity, and variety of his stile, &c.' and beattie affirms, that his dictionary, considered as the work of one man, is a _most wonderful_ performance! the doctor's capital enemies have likewise been caledonians. the great author of lexiphanes was a scot, and the rambler is yet smarting under the rough but irresistible _remarks_ of a highland reviewer. our ingenious advocate for the second sight (vid. tour) has long been duped by a succession of rascals. lawder persuaded him to believe, that paradise lost was compiled from scraps of modern latin poetry; his pamphlet bears strong internal evidence that part of it at least (as has been long alledged) is the production of the doctor's pen. compare in particular the preface with such attempts in prose as we know to be lawder's own. vide gentleman's magazine. mr shaw has of late renewed his _enquiries_. they are only to be regarded as the desperate ravings of a man who believes that, in consequence of the _new light_, his moral and his literary character have sunk together into final perdition; that his name, like lawder's, will be remembered only to his infamy, and _that_ dr johnson himself despises and abhors him. do you think me too severe on the doctor's infirmities? can you forgive his injustice to the memory of his benefactors--his political duplicity--his thirst for blood--his inveterate antipathy to the most sacred rights of mankind? dr johnson says, that one of the lowest of all human beings is a commissioner of excise. this can hardly be the case, unless himself or his reverend friend mr shaw shall arrive at that dignity. but in the meantime, there is a commissioner of excise, or customs, (no matter which) who in the scale of human beings is not much _lower_ than lexiphanes himself. this couple stand in the most striking contrast: and to draw the character of the first is to write an oblique but most severe censure on the character of the second. dr smith's language is a luscious and pure specimen of strength, elegance, precision, and simplicity. his _enquiry into the nature and causes of the wealth of nations_ deserves to be studied by every member of the community, as one of the most accurate, profound, and persuasive books that ever was written. in _that_ performance he displays an intimate and extensive knowledge of mankind, in every department of life, from the cabinet to the cottage; a supreme contempt of national prejudice, and a fearless attachment to liberty, to justice, and to truth. his work is admired as a mass of excellence, a condensation of reasonings, the most various, important, original, and just. * * * * * william andrews clark memorial library: university of california, los angeles the augustan reprint society cimarron street, los angeles, california _general editors_: william e. conway, william andrews clark memorial library; george robert guffey, university of california, los angeles: maximillian e. novak, university of california, los angeles _corresponding secretary_: mrs. edna c. davis, william andrews clark memorial library the society's purpose is to publish rare restoration and eighteenth-century works (usually as facsimile reproductions). all income of the society is devoted to defraying costs of publication and mailing. correspondence concerning memberships in the united states and canada should be addressed to the corresponding secretary at the william andrews clark memorial library, cimarron street, los angeles, california. correspondence concerning editorial matters may be addressed to the general editors at the same address. manuscripts of introductions should conform to the recommendations of the mla _style sheet_. the membership fee is $ . a year in the united states and canada and £ . . in great britain and europe. british and european prospective members should address b. h. blackwell, broad street, oxford, england. copies of back issues in print may be obtained from the corresponding secretary. publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers - ) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $ . per unit, from the kraus reprint company, east th street, new york, n.y. . make check or money order payable to the regents of the university of california regular publications for - - . thomas shelton, _a tutor to tachygraphy, or, short-writing_, , and _tachygraphy_, . introduction by william matthews. - . _deformities of dr. samuel johnson_, . introduction by gwin j. kolb and j. e. congleton. . _poeta de tristibus: or, the poet's complaint_, . introduction by harold love. . gerard langbaine, _momus triumphans: or, the plagiaries of the english stage_ [_a new catalogue of english plays_], . introduction by david rodes. members of the society will receive copies of clark library seminar papers. special publication for - - gerard langbaine, _an account of the english dramatick poets_ ( ), introduction by john loftis. volumes. approximately pages. price to members of the society, $ . for the first copy (both volumes), and $ . for additional copies. price to non-members, $ . . already published in this series: . john ogilby, _the fables of aesop paraphras'd in verse_ ( ), with an introduction by earl miner. pages. . john gay, _fables_ ( , ), with an introduction by vinton a. dearing. pages. . _the empress of morocco and its critics_ (elkanah settle, _the empress of morocco_ [ ] with five plates; _notes and observations on the empress of morocco_ [ ] by john dryden, john crowne and thomas shadwell; _notes and observations on the empress of morocco revised_ [ ] by elkanah settle; and _the empress of morocco. a farce_ [ ] by thomas duffett), with an introduction by maximillian e. novak. pages. . _after the tempest_ (the dryden-davenant version of _the tempest_ [ ]; the "operatic" _tempest_ [ ]; thomas duffett's _mock-tempest_ [ ]; and the "garrick" _tempest_ [ ]), with an introduction by george robert guffey. pages. price to members of the society, $ . for the first copy of each title, and $ . for additional copies. price to non-members, $ . . standing orders for this continuing series of special publications will be accepted. british and european orders should be addressed to b. h. blackwell, broad street, oxford, england. the augustan reprint society publications in print - . henry nevil payne, _the fatal jealousie_ ( ). . anonymous, "of genius," in _the occasional paper_, vol. iii, no. ( ), and aaron hill, preface to _the creation_ ( ). - . susanna centlivre, _the busie body_ ( ). . lewis theobald, _preface to the works of shakespeare_ ( ). . samuel johnson, _the vanity of human wishes_ ( ), and two _rambler_ papers ( ). . john dryden, _his majesties declaration defended_ ( ). - . charles macklin, _the man of the world_ ( ). . thomas gray, _an elegy wrote in a country churchyard_ ( ). and _the eton college manuscript_. - . bernard mandeville, _a letter to dion_ ( ). - . thomas d'urfey, _wonders in the sun; or, the kingdom of the birds_ ( ). - . john tutchin, _selected poems_ ( - ). . anonymous, _political justice_ ( ). . robert dodsley, _an essay on fable_ ( ). . t. r., _an essay concerning critical and curious learning_ ( ). . _two poems against pope_: leonard welsted, _one epistle to mr. a. pope_ ( ), and anonymous, _the blatant beast_ ( ). - . daniel defoe and others, _accounts of the apparition of mrs. veal_. . charles macklin, _the covent garden theatre_ ( ). . sir roger l'estrange, _citt and bumpkin_ ( ). . henry more, _enthusiasmus triumphatus_ ( ). . thomas traherne, _meditations on the six days of the creation_ ( ). . bernard mandeville, _aesop dress'd or a collection of fables_ ( ). - . edmond malone, _cursory observations on the poems attributed to mr. thomas rowley_ ( ). . anonymous, _the female wits_ ( ). . anonymous, _the scribleriad_ ( ). lord hervey, _the difference between verbal and practical virtue_ ( ). - . lawrence echard, prefaces to _terence's comedies_ ( ) and _plautus's comedies_ ( ). . henry more, _democritus platonissans_ ( ). . walter harte, _an essay on satire, particularly on the dunciad_ ( ). - . john courtenay, _a poetical review of the literary and moral character of the late samuel johnson_ ( ). . john downes, _roscius anglicanus_ ( ). . sir john hill, _hypochondriasis, a practical treatise_ ( ). . thomas sheridan, _discourse ... being introductory to his course of lectures on elocution and the english language_ ( ). . arthur murphy, _the englishman from paris_ ( ). . [catherine trotter], _olinda's adventures_ ( ). - . john ogilvie, _an essay on the lyric poetry of the ancients_ ( ). . _a learned dissertation on dumpling_ ( ) and _pudding burnt to pot or a compleat key to the dissertation on dumpling_ ( ). . selections from sir roger l'estrange's _observator_ ( - ). . anthony collins, _a discourse concerning ridicule and irony in writing_ ( ). . _a letter from a clergyman to his friend, with an account of the travels of captain lemuel gulliver_ ( ). . _the art of architecture, a poem. in imitation of horace's art of poetry_ ( ). publications of the first fifteen years of the society (numbers - ) are available in paperbound units of six issues at $ . per unit, from the kraus reprint company, east th street, new york, n.y. . publications in print are available at the regular membership rate of $ . yearly. prices of single issues may be obtained upon request. subsequent publications may be checked in the annual prospectus. * * * * * transcriber's notes: the text indicated quotes by repeating the open quote character on each new line. this has not been followed in this transcription. the text used the 'long s', as is common pre- . this has been converted to a standard 's'. the text used an 'oe' ligature for several words, which has been changed to 'oe' in the text edition: [oe]conomy [oe]gnimatical gonnorh[oe]a the following misprints have been corrected in the text: page iii "ignominious end". 'ignominous' in page image. page . "_false alarm_". initial f not italicised in page image. page . "'the design". initial quote doubled in page image. page . "a specimen". 'speimen' in page image. page . "procure it.'" removed extra end quote. page . "_a parte post_". 'a' not italisised in page image. page . "that ingredient". 'ingre-(newline)gredient' on page. page . "his only difficulty". 'difficuly' in page image. page . "pissburnt". on page 'piss-(newline)burnt' page . "(for i dare". open bracked missing in page image. page . "for he". printed as 'forhe'. page . "brothelhouse". on page 'brothel-(newline)house' page . "or blood-thirsty". '-' unclear in page image. missing singlequote has been added at the end as indicated below: page . "these: 'they'" page . footnote. "_these reasons_,'" page . "have seen;'" page . "a poet.'" page . "fine sleeves;'" page . "animal water. _pope._'" page . "say less'" page . "or write;'" page . "heavy ship;'" in addition, missing period has been added as shown below: page . "too old to learn." page . "the victory. _cibber_" page footnote. "ibid, p. ." page . "divert school boys." page . "_s._ fiddlefaddle" page . "yet, _ad._" page . "hope and fear." page . "_dryden._' whoredom" page . "piece of bread." page . "consisting of three.'" page footnote. "in existence." the alphabetical list on pages - has several entries out of order. the order has been kept from the text, rather than corrected. on page there is a footnote, "vide rambler.", with no footnote marker on the page. this footnote has been placed where it is in the first edition. the story of doctor johnson [illustration: samuel johnson] * * * * * cambridge university press c. f. clay, manager london: fetter lane, e.c. new york: g. p. putnam's sons bombay} calcutta} macmillan and co., ltd. madras} toronto: j. m. dent and sons, ltd. tokyo: maruzen-kabushiki-kaisha all rights reserved * * * * * the story of doctor johnson being an introduction to boswell's _life_ by s. c. roberts, m.a. sometime scholar of pembroke college, cambridge [illustration] cambridge at the university press first edition february second edition june uxori carissimae in memoriam noctium boswellianarum preface the object of this little book is clearly expressed on the title-page; and the title-page might be left to speak for itself, were it not for the inevitable criticism that boswell needs no introduction. "the most discreet of cicerones" it has been said "is an intruder when we open our old favourite, and, without further magic, retire into that delicious nook of eighteenth-century society[ ]." this is from the point of view of the literary man, the "true lover" of boswell; but the _life_ is a long and, outwardly, formidable work with which many, who might have been true lovers, have, through lack of an introduction, hardly attained even to a casual acquaintance. the usefulness, then, of such a book as this can be tested by one question: is a man more, or less, likely to read boswell and to read him with enjoyment, because, as a boy, he has been told the story of dr johnson in simpler form? this "simpler form" may require a little explanation. i have not been so foolish or so sacrilegious as to attempt to paraphrase boswell for the young; on the other hand, i have not merely strung together a series of extracts and offered them as the gems of the boswellian narrative. but, letting boswell for the most part speak for himself--not in isolated tit-bits, but in substantial paragraphs--i have endeavoured to present dr johnson, in the various stages of his career and in the varied circle of his friends, in such a way as to attract those who have not already known the charm of the "delicious nook" referred to above. in one or two of the chapters i have turned to the records of other friends besides boswell--notably mrs thrale and fanny burney. for the many imperfections that critics will discover i must plead certain limitations: my range of authorities was limited by remoteness from a large library; my space by the modest design of the book; my time by the imminence of an army medical board. much, indeed, is omitted, but if i shall win new readers for boswell, i shall dare to say, like johnson, that something likewise is performed. s. c. r. _april ._ footnotes: [ ] sir leslie stephen, _hours in a library_. note on the second edition i have taken the opportunity of correcting several mistakes pointed out by friendly critics. in response to the suggestion of the reviewer in _the times literary supplement_ i have also added brief notes on the birthplace and on the gough square house; of the latter a new photograph has been made. s. c. r. _may ._ contents page preface vii johnson's world the boy _school days_ _oxford and after_ the adventurer in literature _johnson comes to london_ _the great lexicographer_ _the great cham of literature_ the man _johnson's household_ _his daily life_ _his clubs_ the social friend _enter boswell_ _more about boswell_ _david garrick_ _oliver goldsmith_ _sir joshua reynolds_ _bennet langton and topham beauclerk_ _mrs thrale_ _fanny burney_ the traveller _the tour to the hebrides_ _lesser journeys_ the true-born englishman bibliographical note illustrations samuel johnson frontispiece (from an engraving after the portrait by reynolds) to face page johnson's birthplace at lichfield (from an engraving by edward finden after the drawing by c. stanfield) title-page of _the gentleman's magazine_, march, johnson's house in gough square james boswell (from an engraving by finden after the sketch by g. langton) a pit check, goodman's fields theatre} } drury lane theatre } david garrick (from the portrait by robert edge pine) oliver goldsmith (from an engraving after the portrait by reynolds) johnson and goldsmith outside filby's shop (from a drawing by w. m. thackeray in the _north british review_, ) sir joshua reynolds (from an engraving after the portrait by himself) mrs thrale (from an engraving after the portrait by reynolds) mrs thrale's breakfast-table (from an engraving after i. cruikshanks, ) fanny burney (from an engraving after the portrait by e. f. burney) johnson and boswell arm-in-arm up the high street } } johnson under boswell's roof } } (from the caricatures by } thomas rowlandson, ) } boswell standing firm to his post } } whiggism terribly buffeted } } (from the caricatures by rowlandson) } fleet street in johnson's day (from a contemporary engraving) the design on the cover is from one of the "copper pieces struck at birmingham with his [johnson's] head impressed on them." they passed current, as boswell tells us, "as half-pence there, and in the neighbouring parts of the country." acknowledgment is made to messrs sidgwick and jackson ltd for supplying the block of the boswell portrait; to messrs george routledge & sons ltd for permission to reproduce the pictures facing p. from doran's _annals of the english stage_ (ed. lowe, ); and to messrs emery walker ltd for permission to reproduce the portrait of garrick facing p. . the story of doctor johnson _johnson's world_ on the title-page of _the life of samuel johnson, ll.d._, by james boswell, esq., the work to which this little book is a stepping-stone, boswell claims that the story of dr johnson's life exhibits "a view of literature and literary men in great-britain, for near half a century, during which he flourished." it is no idle claim. indeed, boswell might have gone a great deal further, for his story is not merely concerned with books and bookish men, but with men and women in every rank of society. kings and cottagers, statesmen and shopkeepers, bishops and play-actors, rich brewers and penniless poets, dukes and innkeepers, country parsons and gay young men of the town, street beggars and fashionable ladies--all play their part in the story and shew us a picture of the english world in the eighteenth century such as no history-book can give. dr johnson lived in four reigns--from to . he could remember seeing queen anne and had an audience of george iii; a jacobite as a boy and a tory always, he saw the ' and the ' ; he groaned under the whig domination of walpole and rejoiced in the tory triumph of the king who gloried in the name of briton; he saw the victories of our armies in india and canada and their failure in america; he saw the damage done in the gordon riots and chatted to a south sea islander brought home by captain cook; he dined with john wilkes and was a guest in the house of flora macdonald. in a tavern, a club, a drawing-room, or a post-chaise he would argue, and have the best of the argument, on the institution of slavery or the choice of books for babies; on the government of india or the poetry of gray; on the doctrine of free will or the points of a bull-dog; on the management of a university press or the writing of a good cookery book. in he came to london with twopence-halfpenny and a half-written tragedy in his pocket and for nearly twenty years did the work of an unknown literary drudge; for the last thirty years of his life he was the dominant figure in the educated society of london, laying down the law on politics to edmund burke, on literature to oliver goldsmith, on painting to sir joshua reynolds, on history to edward gibbon, on acting to david garrick, and on everything to james boswell. let us see what boswell has to tell us. _school days_ johnson was not born into the world at which we have just glanced. indeed, had his character been less remarkable, he might have lived and died a schoolmaster, or a bookseller, in a country town. for his father, michael johnson, kept a bookshop in lichfield, staffordshire, and here his son samuel was born in . of old mr johnson boswell says that "he was a pretty good latin scholar, and a citizen so creditable as to be made one of the magistrates of lichfield.... he was a zealous high-church man and royalist and retained his attachment to the unfortunate house of stuart." now, according to a modern poet: every boy and every gal that's born into the world alive is either a little liberal or else a little conservative. in those days men talked of whig and tory as we talk of liberal and conservative, and if ever a man was born a tory, that man was samuel johnson. to be a tory in meant, generally speaking, to disapprove of the revolution of , when james ii was driven from his throne and william iii summoned to rule in his place; and great excitement had been caused in the country by a sermon preached at st paul's against the principles of the revolution by a certain dr sacheverell. a visit of this preacher to lichfield gave young samuel johnson the opportunity to shew himself what boswell calls "the infant hercules of toryism." here is the story told by a lichfield lady: "when dr sacheverel was at lichfield, johnson was not quite three years old. my grandfather hammond observed him at the cathedral perched upon his father's shoulders, listening and gaping at the much celebrated preacher. mr hammond asked mr johnson how he could possibly think of bringing such an infant to church and in the midst of so great a croud. he answered, because it was impossible to keep him at home; for, young as he was, he believed he had caught the publick spirit and zeal for sacheverel, and would have staid for ever in the church, satisfied with beholding him." nowadays it is difficult for us to imagine a three-year-old baby insisting on hearing a sermon, say, by the dean of st paul's or even a speech by the prime minister. but johnson, as we shall see, was no ordinary child; and to the end of his life he was no ordinary hater of the whigs. living, as he did, in the atmosphere of a bookshop, it was natural that the boy should be more inclined than others towards learning. his memory was wonderful: "when he was a child in petticoats and had learnt to read, mrs johnson one morning put the common prayer-book into his hands, pointed to the collect for the day, and said 'sam, you must get this by heart.' she went up stairs, leaving him to study it: but by the time she had reached the second floor, she heard him following her. 'what's the matter?' said she. 'i can say it,' he replied; and repeated it distinctly, though he could not have read it more than twice." [illustration: johnson's birthplace at lichfield the birthplace, having been presented to the city of lichfield by the late lieut.-col. john gilbert, was opened to the public as a johnson museum and library in . in it are preserved various books, manuscripts, portraits and other relics. a full account of johnson's association with lichfield is given in _dr samuel johnson and his birthplace: a retrospect and guide. compiled by the johnson house committee_ (lichfield, ).] he was first taught to read english by one dame oliver and "from his earliest years he loved to read poetry, but hardly ever read any poem to the end; ... he read shakspeare at a period so early, that the speech of the ghost in hamlet terrified him when he was alone." at the age of he began to learn latin with an under master at lichfield school, of which the headmaster, mr hunter, must have put terror into the hearts of his pupils. "he used" so johnson afterwards told boswell "to beat us unmercifully; and he did not distinguish between ignorance and negligence; for he would beat a boy equally for not knowing a thing, as for neglecting to know it. he would ask a boy a question; and if he did not answer it, he would beat him, without considering whether he had an opportunity of knowing how to answer it. for instance, he would call up a boy and ask him latin for a candlestick, which the boy could not expect to be asked. now, sir, if a boy could answer every question, there would be no need of a master to teach him." "however ..." says boswell "johnson was very sensible how much he owed to mr hunter. mr langton one day asked him how he had acquired so accurate a knowledge of latin, in which, i believe, he was exceeded by no man of his time; he said 'my master whipt me very well. without that, sir, i should have done nothing.... a child is afraid of being whipped and gets his task, and there's an end on't.'" boswell also gives us a picture of johnson at school as drawn by a schoolfellow--mr hector: "he seemed to learn by intuition ... whenever he made an exertion he did more than any one else.... he was uncommonly inquisitive; and his memory was so tenacious, that he never forgot anything that he either heard or read." in the holidays hector "could not oblige him more than by sauntering away the hours of vacation in the fields, during which he was more engaged in talking to himself than to his companion." this sounds more like a gloomy young prig than a healthy -year-old boy. but johnson was far from healthy and his superior brains were useful to others besides himself: "his favourites used to receive very liberal assistance from him; and such was the submission and deference with which he was treated, such the desire to obtain his regard, that three of the boys, of whom mr hector was sometimes one, used to come in the morning as his humble attendants and carry him to school." after a year at another school at stourbridge, he returned home: "the two years which he spent at home, after his return from stourbridge, he passed in what he thought idleness, and was scolded by his father for his want of steady application. he had no settled plan of life, nor looked forward at all, but merely lived from day to day. yet he read a great deal in a desultory manner, without any scheme of study, as chance threw books in his way, and inclination directed him through them. he used to mention one curious instance of his casual reading, when but a boy. having imagined that his brother had hid some apples behind a large folio upon an upper shelf in his father's shop, he climbed up to search for them. there were no apples; but the large folio proved to be petrarch, whom he had seen mentioned in some preface, as one of the restorers of learning. his curiosity having been thus excited, he sat down with avidity, and read a great part of the book. what he read during these two years he told me, was not works of mere amusement, 'not voyages and travels, but all literature, sir, all ancient writers, all manly.'" johnson's father at this time used to set up a bookstall on market-days at neighbouring towns. one day he asked his son to go with him to uttoxeter. samuel refused, being too proud to stand at the stall in the market-place. again we feel inclined to think our hero rather a prig of a fellow--too lazy to do regular work of his own, too proud to help his father. why couldn't he do a day's work and then spend his leisure in the open air, fishing or playing games? here we must go back a little and look at the sadder side of johnson's boyhood. he was never healthy. from his father he inherited a "vile melancholy" and he "had the misfortune to be much afflicted with the scrophula, or king's evil, which disfigured a countenance naturally well formed, and hurt his visual nerves so much, that he did not see at all with one of his eyes, though its appearance was little different from that of the other." at that time it was still believed that this disease could be cured by a touch of the reigning king or queen. so mrs johnson "carried him to london, where he was actually touched by queen anne...." being asked if he could remember queen anne, "he had," he said, "a confused, but somehow a sort of solemn recollection of a lady in diamonds, and a long black hood." but it did johnson no good. neither then, nor in later life, was he freed of the burden of ill-health and we can now better understand why "he never joined with the other boys in their ordinary diversions: his only amusement was in winter, when he took a pleasure in being drawn upon the ice by a boy barefooted, who pulled him along by a garter fixed round him; no very easy operation as his size was remarkably large. his defective sight, indeed, prevented him from enjoying the common sports." three habits, at least, dr johnson learned in boyhood which he continued to practise as a man--to hate the whigs, to love books, and to endure pain. _oxford and after_ two hundred years ago it was not easy for a poor country bookseller to send his son to oxford; and it is probable that it was only with the help of friends that old mr johnson was able to pay his son's expenses at the university. however that may be, the name of samuel johnson was entered in the books of pembroke college, oxford, in . he had at least one parting gift, for good dame oliver, his first teacher, hearing that he was about to go, "came to take leave of him [and] brought him, in the simplicity of her kindness, a present of gingerbread, and said, he was the best scholar she ever had." boswell further tells us that johnson "delighted in mentioning this early compliment: adding, with a smile, that 'this was as high a proof of his merit as he could conceive.'" besides his gingerbread, however, johnson took with him a good knowledge of books. "i had looked" he said "into a great many books, which were not commonly known at the universities, where they seldom read any books but what are put into their hands by their tutors; so that when i came to oxford, dr adams told me i was the best qualified for the university that he had ever known come there." and indeed he quickly showed himself to be more learned than the ordinary "freshman." nowadays, when a father takes his son for a first interview with a college tutor, it is not usual for the boy to break into the conversation with a quotation from one of the less-known latin authors. this is boswell's story of johnson's arrival at oxford: "his father, who had anxiously accompanied him, found means to have him introduced to mr jorden, who was to be his tutor.... his father seemed very full of the merits of his son, and told the company he was a good scholar, and a poet, and wrote latin verses. his figure and manner appeared strange to them; but he behaved modestly, and sat silent, till upon something which occurred in the course of conversation, he suddenly struck in and quoted macrobius; and thus he gave the first impression of that more extensive reading in which he had indulged himself." johnson had no great opinion of mr jorden as a scholar: "he was a very worthy man, but a heavy man, and i did not profit much by his instructions. indeed, i did not attend him much. the first day after i came to college i waited upon him, and then stayed away four. on the sixth, mr jorden asked me why i had not attended. i answered i had been sliding in christ church meadow. and this i said with as much _nonchalance_ as i am now talking to you. i had no notion i was wrong or irreverent to my tutor." johnson's rooms were on the second floor over the gateway of pembroke college. the tower itself has been much altered, but the visitor to oxford can see the rooms pretty much as they were in johnson's day. elsewhere in the college he may examine (or "contemplate with veneration," as boswell would have done) many johnsonian relics--his writing-desk and tea-pot among them. from what we already know of johnson's boyhood, we cannot picture him as a lively undergraduate; for poverty and ill-health make it difficult for a young man to enjoy life with his fellows, and johnson suffered from both. a schoolfellow of johnson, named taylor, had come up to christ church, where one of the tutors, mr bateman, had a high reputation: "mr bateman's lectures were so excellent, that johnson used to come and get them at second-hand from taylor, till his poverty being so extreme that his shoes were worn out, and his feet appeared through them, he saw that this humiliating circumstance was perceived by the christ church men, and he came no more. he was too proud to accept of money, and somebody having set a pair of new shoes at his door, he threw them away with indignation." "how must we feel" adds the faithful boswell "when we read such an anecdote of samuel johnson!" nor had his health improved. here is an account of him at the end of his first year at oxford: "while he was at lichfield, in the college vacation of the year , he felt himself overwhelmed with ... perpetual irritation, fretfulness and impatience; and with a dejection, gloom, and despair, which made existence misery. from this dismal malady he never afterwards was perfectly relieved ... he was sometimes so languid and inefficient, that he could not distinguish the hour upon the town-clock." we are rather surprised, then, to read that he was at oxford "caressed and loved by all about him, was a gay and frolicksome fellow, and passed there the happiest part of his life." "this" says boswell "is a striking proof of the fallacy of appearances, and how little any of us know of the real internal state even of those whom we see most frequently; for the truth is, that he was then depressed by poverty, and irritated by disease. when i mentioned to him this account as given me by dr adams, he said 'ah, sir, i was mad and violent. it was bitterness which they mistook for frolick. i was miserably poor, and i thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so i disregarded all power and all authority.'" johnson was too poor to complete his course of study and left oxford in without the degree of bachelor of arts. but though he had no degree, he had gained much from the university. he had widened his knowledge of books, reading mostly greek and latin authors. "he had" says boswell "a peculiar facility in seizing at once what was valuable in any book, without submitting to the labour of perusing it from beginning to end." he learnt, too, to love his college and the university. later we shall see how affectionately he talked of the days when "he was generally seen lounging at the college gate, with a circle of young students round him, whom he was entertaining with wit, and keeping from their studies." "o! mr edwards!" he exclaimed to an old friend about years later "i'll convince you that i recollect you. do you remember our drinking together at an alehouse near pembroke gate?"--but we must go back and see him as he came down from oxford at the age of : "and now (i had almost said _poor_) samuel johnson returned to his native city, destitute, and not knowing how he should gain even a decent livelihood. his father's misfortune in trade rendered him unable to support his son; and for some time there appeared no means by which he could maintain himself. in the december of this year his father died." "i layed by" wrote johnson in his diary ( july ) "eleven guineas on this day, when i received twenty pounds, being all that i have reason to hope for out of my father's effects, previous to the death of my mother; an event which i pray god may be very remote. i now therefore see that i must make my own fortune." how was this fortune to be made? like many another after him who has left the university with no definite plan of life in view, johnson turned inevitably to teaching, accepting "an offer to be employed as usher in the school of market-bosworth, in leicestershire, to which it appears, from one of his little fragments of a diary, that he went on foot." like many another, too, he soon complained that "this employment was very irksome to him in every respect ... that it was unvaried as the note of the cuckow; and that he did not know whether it was more disagreeable for him to teach, or the boys to learn, the grammar rules." a few months of this were enough for him, after which he went to live with his friend mr hector at birmingham and began to earn a little money by his pen. for the translation of a french book of travel he received five guineas. in birmingham johnson fell in love with a widow--mrs porter. this lady was twenty years older than her lover and, as we shall see in a moment, no great beauty. nor was johnson. when he was first introduced to her, "his appearance was very forbidding; he was then lean and lank, so that his immense structure of bones was hideously striking to the eye, and the scars of the scrophula were deeply visible. he also wore his hair, which was straight and stiff, and separated behind: and he often had, seemingly, convulsive starts and odd gesticulations, which tended to excite at once surprize and ridicule. mrs porter was so much engaged by his conversation that she overlooked all these external disadvantages and said to her daughter, 'this is the most sensible man that i ever saw in my life.'" "i know not" boswell goes on "for what reason the marriage ceremony was not performed at birmingham; but a resolution was taken that it should be at derby, for which place the bride and bridegroom set out on horseback, i suppose in very good humour ... i have had from my illustrious friend the following curious account of their journey to church upon the nuptial morn: 'sir, she had read the old romances, and had got into her head the fantastical notion that a woman of spirit should use her lover like a dog. so, sir, at first she told me that i rode too fast, and she could not keep up with me; and, when i rode a little slower, she passed me, and complained that i lagged behind. i was not to be made the slave of caprice; and i resolved to begin as i meant to end. i therefore pushed on briskly, till i was fairly out of her sight. the road lay between two hedges, so i was sure she could not miss it; and i contrived that she should soon come up with me. when she did, i observed her to be in tears.'" this is what boswell, who was a married man, calls "a manly firmness," though he admits that it was "a singular beginning." "sir," said johnson to a friend years afterwards "it was a love marriage on both sides." "in the _gentleman's magazine_ for ," says boswell, "there is the following advertisement: 'at edial, near lichfield, in staffordshire, young gentlemen are boarded and taught the latin and greek languages, by samuel johnson.' but the only pupils that were put under his care were the celebrated david garrick and his brother george, and a mr offely, a young gentleman of good fortune who died early." boswell (though he has a kind word of patronage for successful schoolmasters) evidently thought that his hero's brains were too good, and his temper too bad, for the profession of teaching; moreover, david garrick was the kind of boy who is the despair of his teacher, the delight of his schoolfellows, and the hero of school stories. the truth about johnson as a schoolmaster, according to boswell, was that "he was not so well qualified for being a teacher of elements ... as men of inferiour powers of mind.... the art of communicating instruction, of whatever kind, is much to be valued; and i have ever thought that those who devote themselves to this employment, and do their duty with diligence and success, are entitled to very high respect from the community, as johnson himself often maintained. yet i am of opinion that the greatest abilities are not only not required for this office, but render a man less fit for it. while we acknowledge the justness of thomson's beautiful remark, 'delightful task! to rear the tender thought, and teach the young idea how to shoot!' we must consider that this delight is perceptible only by 'a mind at ease,' a mind at once calm and clear; but that a mind gloomy and impetuous like that of johnson, cannot be fixed for any length of time in minute attention, and must be so frequently irritated by unavoidable slowness and errour in the advances of scholars, as to perform the duty, with little pleasure to the teacher, and no great advantage to the pupils. good temper is a most essential requisite in a preceptor.... from mr garrick's account he did not appear to have been profoundly reverenced by his pupils. his oddities of manner, and uncouth gesticulations, could not but be the subject of merriment ... and, in particular, the young rogues used to ... turn into ridicule his tumultuous and awkward fondness for mrs johnson, whom he used to name ... _tetty_ or _tetsey_ ... which seems to us ludicrous, when applied to a woman of her age and appearance. mr garrick described her to me as very fat, with a bosom of more than ordinary protuberance, with swelled cheeks of a florid red, produced by thick painting, and increased by the liberal use of cordials; flaring and fantastick in her dress, and affected both in her speech and her general behaviour. i have seen garrick exhibit her, by his exquisite talent of mimickry, so as to excite the heartiest bursts of laughter." the "exquisite talent of mimickry" is not popular amongst schoolmasters and the academy for young gentlemen was closed after a year and a half. again, what was johnson to do? he had tried teaching and failed; he had written a little, but could not hope to get money or fame by selling translations to country booksellers; he had married a wife. the next step was the decisive one: "johnson now thought of trying his fortune in london." _johnson comes to london_ "i came to london" said johnson in later years "with two-pence half-penny in my pocket." garrick overhearing him, exclaimed, "eh? what do you say? with two-pence half-penny in your pocket?" johnson, "why yes; when i came with two-pence half-penny in _my_ pocket, and thou, davy, with three half-pence in thine." master and pupil had travelled together; garrick was to 'complete his education' at an academy kept by a mr colson, but it was well for johnson that he "knew how he could live in the cheapest manner. his first lodgings were at the house of mr norris, a staymaker, in exeter-street, adjoining catherine-street, in the strand. 'i dined (said he) very well for eight-pence, with very good company, at the pine apple in new-street, just by. several of them had travelled. they expected to meet every day; but did not know one another's names. it used to cost the rest a shilling, for they drank wine; but i had a cut of meat for six-pence, and bread for a penny, and gave the waiter a penny; so that i was quite well served, nay, better than the rest, for they gave the waiter nothing.'" johnson was, as boswell says, "an adventurer in literature." what kind of place was this london of , this "great field of genius and exertion, where" according to boswell "talents of every kind have the fullest scope, and the highest encouragement"? here are two pictures. the first is an account of an ordinary day's doings by a stranger staying in pall mall: "we rise by nine, and those that frequent great men's levees find entertainment at them till eleven or go to tea-tables. about twelve the _beau monde_ assembles in several coffee or chocolate houses ... all so near to one another that in less than an hour you see the company of them all. we are carried to these places in chairs, which are here very cheap, a guinea a week, or one shilling per hour, and your chair-men serve you for porters to run on errands.... if it is fine weather we take a turn in the park till two, when we go for dinner.... ordinaries are not so common here as abroad, but there are good french ones in suffolk street. the general way here is to make a party at the coffee-house to go to dine at the tavern, where we sit till six, when we go to the play, except you are invited to the table of some great man. after the play the best company generally go to tom's and will's coffee-houses near adjoining, where there is playing at picquet and the best of conversation till midnight.... or if you like rather the company of ladies, there are assemblies at most people of quality's houses." the second is by an irish painter whom johnson had met at birmingham and who had "practised his own precepts of economy for several years in the british capital": "he assured johnson, who, i suppose, was then meditating to try his fortune in london, but was apprehensive of the expence, 'that thirty pounds a year was enough to enable a man to live there without being contemptible. he allowed ten pounds for clothes and linen. he said a man might live in a garret at eighteen-pence a week; few people would enquire where he lodged; and, if they did, it was easy to say 'sir, i am to be found at such a place.' by spending three-pence in a coffee-house, he might be for some hours every day in very good company; he might dine for sixpence, breakfast on bread and milk for a penny, and do without supper. on _clean-shirt-day_ he went abroad, and paid visits." it was this world of "grub street" (a street which became famous about the end of the th century as the home of poor authors and whose name was used generally to mean the world in which they lived[ ]) which johnson had to face. he must try and make a living by his pen. he had, of course, no "patron," no rich man who would help to pay for the printing of his books, recommend them to his fashionable friends and perhaps secure their author a government post which would bring with it light duties and a comfortable income. except for harry hervey ("a vicious man, but very kind to me," he told boswell, "if you call a dog hervey, i shall love him") johnson hardly had a friend in london. what was he to write? who was to buy his manuscripts? newspapers, indeed, were everywhere. they consisted mostly of four pages containing a little news, a little gossip, a little poetry, and many advertisements. there was not much hope for johnson here. a journal founded in gave him a better opening. "_the gentleman's magazine_, begun and carried on by mr edward cave, under the name of sylvanus urban, had attracted the notice and esteem of johnson, in an eminent degree, before he came to london.... he told me, that when he first saw st john's gate, the place where that deservedly popular miscellany was originally printed, he 'beheld it with reverence.'" to mr cave, therefore, johnson wrote, having observed in his paper "very uncommon offers of encouragement to men of letters," and _the gentleman's magazine_ was for many years "his principal source for employment and support." in the summer of he went back to lichfield, where he finished a tragedy called _irene_, of which we shall hear something later. on his return to london he brought his wife with him, and in london he lived for the remaining years of his life. it was fitting, therefore, that the first of his writings which brought him fame should be a poem called _london_. it was offered to, and refused by, several booksellers, an incident afterwards commemorated in these lines: will no kind patron johnson own? shall johnson friendless range the town? and every publisher refuse the offspring of his happy muse? however, the "worthy, modest, and ingenious mr robert dodsley had taste enough to perceive its uncommon merit, and thought it creditable to have a share in it." now this poem may not attract us very much to-day. boswell, of course, thought it "one of the noblest productions in our language," but to understand it properly we need to know something of the politics of the time, especially of the tory feeling against sir robert walpole, the prime minister who said that "every man had his price"; we need to know something, too, of the poem by juvenal, of which it is an imitation. but a few lines are quoted here, because they bring out very clearly the state of johnson's mind at the time. he is a bitter opponent of the corrupt government of the day and its weak concessions to spain: grant me, kind heaven, to find some happier place, where honesty and sense are no disgrace ... here let those reign, whom pensions can incite to vote a patriot black, a courtier white; explain their country's dear-bought rights away, and plead for pirates in the face of day.[ ] [illustration: title-page of _the gentleman's magazine_, march, ] he feels his own poverty keenly: this mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd. "we may easily conceive" says boswell "with what feeling a great mind like this, cramped and galled by narrow circumstances, uttered this last line, which he marked by capitals." _london_ was a success. "everybody was delighted with it; and there being no name to it, the first buz of the literary circles was 'here is an unknown poet, greater even than pope.' and it is recorded in _the gentleman's magazine_ of that year [ ], that it 'got into the second edition in the course of a week.'" but johnson got no more than ten guineas for his work. truly, as boswell says, "he felt the hardships of writing for bread." so poor, indeed, did his prospects seem, that he thought of turning schoolmaster again or of entering the law. but he had no university degree and there seemed no escape from "the drudgery of authourship"--unless he should take the advice of mr wilcox. "mr wilcox, the bookseller, on being informed by him that his intention was to get his livelihood as an author, eyed his robust frame attentively, and with a significant look, said 'you had better buy a porter's knot.'" of his life during the first ten years after his arrival in london we do not know many details. he was miserably poor, but not entirely friendless. his intimate companion for some time was richard savage, whom "misfortunes and misconduct had reduced to the lowest state of wretchedness as a writer for bread." boswell finds it "melancholy to reflect that johnson and savage were sometimes in such extreme indigence that they could not pay for a lodging; so that they have wandered together whole nights in the streets.... he told sir joshua reynolds, that one night in particular, when savage and he walked round st james's-square for want of a lodging, they were not at all depressed by their situation; but in high spirits and brimful of patriotism, traversed the square for several hours, inveighed against the minister, and 'resolved they would _stand by their country_.'" a few years later johnson wrote a _life_ of his friend, sitting up all night and writing forty-eight of the printed pages at a sitting. "soon after savage's _life_ was published, mr harte dined with edward cave, and occasionally praised it. soon after, meeting him, cave said, 'you made a man very happy t'other day.'--'how could that be?' says harte; 'nobody was there but ourselves.' cave answered, by reminding him that a plate of victuals was sent behind a screen, which was to johnson, dressed so shabbily, that he did not choose to appear; but on hearing the conversation, he was highly delighted with the encomiums on his book." for the copyright of the book johnson received fifteen guineas. such money, indeed, as johnson earned at this time came mostly from mr cave. to _the gentleman's magazine_ he contributed poems, essays, lives of famous men, translations of foreign works and accounts of debates in parliament, taking care, in these last, that "the whig dogs should not have the best of it." few of these writings would be remembered if their author had not become famous for other reasons, and we maybe sure that johnson was dissatisfied with this kind of work. he was an adventurer in literature and an adventurer likes to tackle a big task. before long he found one big enough. footnotes: [ ] see pages , . [ ] the spaniards had abused the right of searching merchant vessels granted to them by the treaty of commerce. in the following year, , after the affair of "jenkins's ear," walpole was compelled to yield to the popular demand for war. _the great lexicographer_ the title of this chapter sounds dull enough. a dictionary is not generally thought to be lively reading and perhaps we may feel that a man who deliberately set out to write one must have been a dry-as-dust old fellow who went out of his way to explain short and simple words by means of long and complicated phrases more difficult than the words themselves. well, there is no doubt that johnson did use long words. he had been brought up on classical authors and, like other writers of the period, often used words of many syllables derived from the greek or latin, when simpler words would have done as well. boswell is the same. he does not say "many times in his later life" but "upon innumerable occasions in his subsequent life." or look back at page , where he finds it "melancholy to reflect that johnson and savage were in such extreme indigence." why couldn't he have found it "sad to think that they were so poor"? long words were the fashion of the time and to do johnson justice, we must try to put ourselves back in his century. nowadays, we have no trouble in finding dictionaries, whether we want an exhaustive work of reference or a handy volume for the pocket. but in johnson's day it was different. such dictionaries as had previously appeared were vocabularies of "hard words" only, not of words in general. the only attempt to produce a dictionary containing _all_ english words was that compiled in by one nathaniel bailey, but it contained very little illustration of the use of words. there was, in fact, no dictionary which attempted either to _fix_ the language or to illustrate the different meanings of a word by quotations from english writers. johnson began to consider whether he might not produce one himself. "the year " says boswell "is distinguished as the epoch, when johnson's arduous and important work, his dictionary of the english language, was announced to the world, by the publication of its plan or _prospectus_. how long this immense undertaking had been the object of his contemplation, i do not know. i once asked him by what means he had attained to that astonishing knowledge of our language, by which he was enabled to realise a design of such extent, and accumulated difficulty. he told me, that 'it was not the effect of particular study; but that it had grown up in his mind insensibly.'" even johnson had had some doubts at the beginning: "i have been informed by mr james dodsley, that several years before this period, when johnson was one day sitting in his brother robert's shop, he heard his brother suggest to him, that a dictionary of the english language would be a work that would be well received by the publick; that johnson seemed at first to catch at the proposition, but, after a pause, said, in his abrupt decisive manner, 'i believe i shall not undertake it.'" but he changed his mind. half-a-dozen booksellers agreed between them to pay the author fifteen hundred and seventy-five pounds for the work, and the "plan" was addressed to the earl of chesterfield, "then one of his majesty's principal secretaries of state; a nobleman who was very ambitious of literary distinction." england has always prided herself on the individual enterprise of her citizens and johnson "the true-born englishman" had now undertaken, "single and unaided ... a work which in other countries had not been effected but by the co-operating exertions of many," but "he had a noble consciousness of his own abilities, which enabled him to go on with undaunted spirit." boswell gives us a few glimpses of his hero engaged on this great task: "dr adams found him one day busy at his _dictionary_, when the following dialogue ensued: adams. this is a great work, sir.... how can you do this in three years? johnson. sir, i have no doubt that i can do it in three years. adams. but the french academy, which consists of forty members, took forty years to compile their dictionary. johnson. sir, thus it is: this is the proportion. let me see; forty times forty is sixteen hundred. as three to sixteen hundred, so is the proportion of an englishman to a frenchman." "for the mechanical part he employed, as he told me, six amanuenses; and let it be remembered by the natives of north-britain, to whom he is supposed to have been so hostile, that five of them were of that country.... to all these painful labourers, johnson shewed a never-ceasing kindness." "while the _dictionary_ was going forward, johnson lived part of the time in holborn, part in gough-square, fleet-street; and he had an upper room fitted up like a counting-house for the purpose, in which he gave to the copyists their several tasks. the words, partly taken from other dictionaries, and partly supplied by himself, having been first written down with spaces left between them, he delivered in writing their etymologies, definitions, and various significations. the authorities were copied from the books themselves, in which he had marked the passages, with a black-lead pencil, the traces of which could easily be effaced. i have seen several of them, in which that trouble had not been taken, so that they were just as when used by the copyists." [illustration: johnson's house in gough square no. gough square, the house in which johnson lived from to , was bought in by mr cecil harmsworth, who undertook such restoration as was necessary. the visitor will find it most easily by turning into bolt court, on the north side of fleet street, and will note with satisfaction that "almost every original feature of importance has survived." a descriptive booklet, with a good coloured portrait, may be bought at the house, and a well-illustrated account is given in _the architectural review_ for december, . carlyle's description of his visit (_miscellaneous essays, vol. iv_) is well known and the reader may also be referred to mr austin dobson's _a garret in gough square (eighteenth century vignettes, st series_) and miss sophie cole's novel, _a london posy_.] though these pencil-marks do not remain for us to see, the house in gough square still stands. the literary adventurer of to-day may behold it with something of that reverence which st john's gate inspired in johnson when he first came to london. the dictionary employed johnson for eight years. "mr andrew millar, bookseller in the strand, took the principal charge of conducting the publication.... when the messenger who carried the last sheet to millar returned, johnson asked him 'well, what did he say?'--'sir (answered the messenger) he said, thank god i have done with him.' 'i am glad (replied johnson, with a smile) that he thanks god for anything.'" lord chesterfield, to whom the "plan" had been addressed, had taken no notice of johnson during his years of toil. johnson had waited in his "outward rooms" and been "repulsed from his door"--an incident which a famous picture has made familiar to many who otherwise, perhaps, would hardly have heard either of the rich nobleman or of the "uncourtly scholar." on the eve of publication, however, lord chesterfield attempted to make amends by two complimentary notices in a paper called _the world_. this provoked johnson to write one of the best known letters in english literature. here is a part of it: "seven years, my lord, have now passed, since i waited in your outward rooms, or was repulsed from your door; during which time i have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect, for i never had a patron before.... is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself." this fine piece of snubbing, written, as johnson said, in _defensive_ pride, became "the talk of the town." but johnson did not wish it to be public property. when lord hardwicke expressed a wish to read it, he "declined to comply with the request, saying, with a smile 'no, sir; i have hurt the dog too much already.'" "the _dictionary_" says boswell "with a _grammar and history of the english language_ being now at length published, in two volumes folio, the world contemplated with wonder so stupendous a work achieved by one man." we, too, may do the same, though we may be frightened, rather than attracted, by the sentence which boswell selects from the _preface_ as a model of clearness and choice of words: "when the radical idea branches out into parallel ramifications, how can a consecutive series be formed of senses in their own nature collateral?" we shall do better to choose one or two of the passages which should move us even now, when we picture to ourselves the years of industry and poverty in the gloomy gough square house: "the chief glory of every people arises from its authors: whether i shall add anything by my own writings to the reputation of english literature must be left to time." "i deliver my book to the world with the spirit of a man that has endeavoured well.... in this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the author, and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns; yet it may gratify curiosity to inform it, that the _english dictionary_ was written with little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow." the dictionary itself is not, of course, to be compared in fulness or accuracy with the latest monument of lexicography which we find on library shelves to-day--any more than marlborough's artillery can be compared with a modern howitzer. "the definitions" says boswell "have always appeared to me such astonishing proofs of acuteness of intellect and precision of language, as indicate a genius of the highest rank. this it is which marks the superiour excellence of johnson's _dictionary_ over others." but even boswell has to admit, as johnson did, that there are errors and obscurities, "inconsiderable specks" though they be. "thus _windward_ and _leeward_, though directly of opposite meaning, are defined identically the same way." "a lady once asked him how he came to define _pastern_ the _knee_ of a horse; instead of making an elaborate defence, as she expected, he at once answered, 'ignorance, madam,--pure ignorance.'" "his definition of _network_ has been often quoted with sportive malignity, as obscuring a thing in itself very plain." boswell tantalises us by omitting this definition. but, to set curiosity at rest, here it is: "anything reticulated or decussated, at equal distances, with interstices between the intersections." a man of strong prejudices like johnson could not refrain from letting his own views appear here and there throughout the work and it is these human touches which have most attraction for us to-day. we can imagine the grim smile which came over his scarred and rugged face when he defined: _oats_ as "a grain which in england is generally given to horses, but in scotland supports the people[ ]." _whig_ as "the name of a faction." _grub-street_ as "the name of a street in london, much inhabited by writers of small histories, _dictionaries_, and temporary poems." _lexicographer_ as "a writer of dictionaries; a harmless drudge." "dictionaries," as johnson himself wrote thirty years later, "are like watches, the worst is better than none, and the best cannot be expected to go true." but what we chiefly have to remember is that johnson was a pioneer. there was no good english dictionary in . johnson set to work single-handed, and produced a book which made its author supreme amongst the literary men of the time and itself remained a standard work for generations. footnotes: [ ] the latter part of the definition was omitted by johnson in the last edition which he passed for press. _the great cham of literature_ the _dictionary_ was johnson's biggest literary adventure, but it was not the only one which occupied him in the years between and . even the great lexicographer would have found it hard to do nothing but "beat the track of the alphabet" for eight years; for, as boswell puts it, "his enlarged and lively mind could not be satisfied without more diversity of employment and the pleasure of animated relaxation." there was another reason, too, which made it necessary for johnson to write something besides definitions. guineas was not much on which to keep six assistants and himself for eight years. "when the expence of amanuenses and paper, and other articles are deducted, his clear profit was very inconsiderable." but johnson, being a true adventurer, did not grumble. when boswell said to him "i am sorry, sir, you did not get more for your _dictionary_," his answer was "i am sorry too. but it was very well. the booksellers are generous, liberal-minded men." so, in , johnson offered to one of these booksellers, mr james dodsley, a poem called _the vanity of human wishes_ and received the sum of fifteen guineas. it was written in imitation, as _london_ had been, of the roman poet juvenal. the subject is a gloomy one and garrick thought it "as hard as greek." but parts of the poem are still familiar to everyone--the opening lines, for instance: let observation with extensive view survey mankind, from china to peru. various ambitious careers are described, such as those of wolsey and charles xii of sweden; and a bitter warning is given to the literary adventurer, "the young enthusiast" who "quits his ease for fame." deign on the passing world to turn thine eyes, and pause awhile from letters, to be wise; there mark what ills the scholar's life assail, toil, envy, want, the patron[ ] and the jail. david garrick was by this time a famous actor. he was manager of drury lane theatre, and, after a good deal of dispute, it was arranged that johnson's tragedy _irene_, written some years before, should be put upon the stage. it was a play dealing with an oriental court and garrick was rehearsing the part of mahomet. "'sir' said johnson to a friend, 'the fellow wants me to make mahomet run mad, that he may have an opportunity of tossing his hands and kicking his heels.'" here is an account of the first night: "before the curtain drew up, there were catcalls whistling, which alarmed johnson's friends. the prologue, which was written by himself in a manly strain, soothed the audience, and the play went off tolerably, till it came to the conclusion, when mrs pritchard, the heroine of the piece, was to be strangled upon the stage, and was to speak two lines with the bow-string round her neck. the audience cried out '_murder! murder!_' she several times attempted to speak; but in vain. at last she was obliged to go off the stage alive." this was johnson's one adventure as a writer of plays and he no doubt enjoyed it. everyone loves to go "behind the scenes." "his necessary attendance while his play was in rehearsal, and during its performance, brought him acquainted with many of the performers of both sexes.... with some of them he kept up an acquaintance as long as he and they lived, and was ever ready to shew them acts of kindness. he for a considerable time used to frequent the _green room_, and seemed to take delight in dissipating his gloom, by mixing in the sprightly chit-chat of the motley circle then to be found there." he felt, too, that his own dress should be in keeping with the gay clothes of those around him: "on occasion of his play being brought upon the stage, johnson had a fancy that as a dramatick authour his dress should be more gay than what he ordinarily wore; he therefore appeared behind the scenes, and even in one of the side boxes, in a scarlet waistcoat, with rich gold lace, and a gold-laced hat." but _irene_ was not a success. "notwithstanding all the support of such performers as garrick, barry, mrs cibber, mrs pritchard, and every advantage of dress and decoration, the tragedy of _irene_ did not please the publick." however "mr garrick's zeal carried it through for nine nights, so that the authour had his three nights' profits." these, together with the hundred pounds which johnson received from mr dodsley for the copyright, made it, at any rate, a profitable adventure and "when asked how he felt upon the ill success of his tragedy, he replied, 'like the monument'; meaning that he continued firm and unmoved as that column." in the following year, , he set out upon another adventure. it was nearly forty years since the last numbers of _the tatler_ and _the spectator_, written by the famous essayists of queen anne's reign--joseph addison and richard steele--had appeared. johnson now embarked upon a similar periodical paper in which, as boswell says, "he came forth as a majestick teacher of moral and religious wisdom." the choice of a title gave him some trouble: "what _must_ be done, sir," he afterwards told sir joshua reynolds "_will_ be done. when i was to begin publishing that paper, i was at a loss how to name it. i sat down at night upon my bedside, and resolved that i would not go to sleep till i had fixed its title. _the rambler_ seemed the best that occurred, and i took it." "the first paper of the _rambler_" boswell tells us "was published on tuesday the th of march ; and its authour was enabled to continue it, without interruption, every tuesday and friday, till saturday[ ] the th of march, , on which day it closed.... many of these discourses, which we should suppose had been laboured with all the slow attention of literary leisure, were written in haste as the moment pressed, without even being read over by him before they were printed." like _irene_, _the rambler_ did not really "please the publick." the matter was too solid for a two-penny paper, and less than copies of each number were sold. boswell speaks sadly of this lack of success: "the grave and often solemn cast of thinking, which distinguished it from other periodical papers, made it, for some time, not generally liked. so slowly did this excellent work, of which twelve editions have now issued from the press, gain upon the world at large, that even in the closing number the authour says, 'i have never been much a favourite with the publick.'" but from one source, at any rate, johnson got honest praise: "mrs johnson, in whose judgement and taste he had great confidence, said to him, after a few numbers of the _rambler_ had come out 'i thought very well of you before; but i did not imagine you could have written anything equal to this.'" "distant praise, from whatever quarter," adds boswell "is not so delightful as that of a wife whom a man loves and esteems." johnson was now emerging from the period of "cold obscurity." he had begun to gather a circle of friends round him and had founded the first of his clubs "in ivy-lane, paternoster-row, with a view to enjoy literary discussion, and amuse his evening hours." his character, though not his income, in the literary world was "deservedly high" and one honour which came to him in was especially pleasing to him--the conferment of the degree of master of arts by the university of oxford. we can see how much he looked forward to this by a phrase in one of his letters at the time: "i shall be extremely glad to hear from you again, to know if the affair [of the degree] proceeds. i have mentioned it to none of my friends for fear of being laughed at for my disappointment." "in we behold him" says boswell "to great advantage; his degree of master of arts conferred upon him, his _dictionary_ published, his correspondence animated, his benevolence exercised." but in the following year "johnson found that the great fame of his _dictionary_ had not set him above the necessity of 'making provision for the day that was passing over him.' no royal or noble patron extended a munificent hand to give independence to the man who had conferred stability on the language of his country." in other words, he must still write for a living. "ten guineas" he afterwards said "was to me at that time a great sum" and he did not disdain to accept a guinea from mr robert dodsley, "for writing the introduction to _the london chronicle_, an evening news-paper." he tried his hand, too, at another series of essays which, under the name of _the idler_, came out every saturday in a weekly newspaper. boswell says that these essays have "less body and more spirit" than _the rambler_ and refers to one "in which conversation is assimilated to a bowl of punch." many of them were written "as hastily as an ordinary letter." "mr langton remembers johnson, when on a visit at oxford, asking him one evening how long it was till the post went out; and on being told about half an hour, he exclaimed, 'then we shall do very well.' he upon this instantly sat down and finished an _idler_, which it was necessary should be in london the next day. mr langton having signified a wish to read it, 'sir, (said he) you shall not do more than i have done myself.' he then folded it up and sent it off." johnson, at the age of , was still writing in the spirit of the journalist. a more ambitious work was _rasselas, prince of abissinia_, a tale of the east. this became very popular and was "translated into most, if not all, of the modern languages." it was written in the same hurried way as _the rambler_ and _the idler_: "johnson wrote it, that with the profits he might defray the expence of his mother's funeral, and pay some little debts which she had left. he told sir joshua reynolds that he had composed it in the evenings of one week, sent it to the press in portions as it was written, and had never since read it over[ ]. mr strahan, mr johnston, and mr dodsley purchased it for a hundred pounds, but afterwards paid him twenty-five pounds more, when it came to a second edition." besides these works and an edition of shakespeare which employed him for many years, johnson wrote a number of essays, reviews of books, prefaces and dedications. from one of these, a defence of tea-drinking, we must quote a sentence later, for boswell gives it as his opinion that "his chief intention seems to have been to make sport." and now johnson's career as "an adventurer in literature" is nearly at an end. what is, in some ways, the most important event of his life is thus described by boswell: "the accession of george the third to the throne of these kingdoms, opened a new and brighter prospect to men of literary merit, who had been honoured with no mark of royal favour in the preceding reign. his present majesty's education in this country, as well as his taste and beneficence, prompted him to be patron of science and the arts; and early this year johnson, having been represented to him as a very learned and good man, without any certain provision, his majesty was pleased to grant him a pension of three hundred pounds a year." johnson, being an honest man, had some qualms. in the two previous reigns he had been bitterly opposed to the government and had not hesitated to say so. moreover, he had defined _pension_ in his dictionary as "pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country[ ]"! could he honestly take the money? he went off at once to consult sir joshua reynolds: "sir joshua answered that ... there could be no objection to his receiving from the king a reward for literary merit; and that certainly the definitions in his _dictionary_ were not applicable to him. johnson, it should seem, was satisfied, for he did not call again till he had accepted the pension, and had waited on lord bute[ ] to thank him. he then told sir joshua that lord bute said to him expressly, 'it is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done.' his lordship, he said, behaved in the handsomest manner. he repeated the words twice, that he might be sure johnson heard them, and thus set his mind perfectly at ease." no one was ever more fervently grateful than johnson, who at the age of , had never known a day's good health or a year's steady income. he, who had compiled the dictionary, declared: "the english language does not afford me terms adequate to my feelings on this occasion. i must have recourse to the french. i am _pénétré_ with his majesty's goodness." twenty years later his gratitude was still fresh: "sir, i have never complained of the world; nor do i think that i have reason to complain. it is rather to be wondered at that i have so much. my pension is more out of the usual course of things than any instance that i have known. here, sir, was a man avowedly no friend to government at the time, who got a pension without asking for it." a few years after the publication of the dictionary tobias smollett, the novelist, had referred to johnson as "the great cham of literature." the title was adapted from that of the fierce chiefs of the tartars, and it suits johnson well enough. he held the foremost place in the literary society of his day and in taverns and great men's halls alike could proclaim his opinions on literature and art, history and politics, morality and religion to men who, though "eminent in their departments," regarded it as an honour to be allowed to listen to him. lord chesterfield, half in jest and half in earnest, had conferred on him the powers of a literary "dictator." the king's pension enabled johnson to use his powers in a way of which chesterfield had not dreamed. henceforward we know him not as a poet or essayist or even as "the great lexicographer," but simply as "doctor johnson[ ]," the talker, the traveller, the true-born englishman. with the exception of some political pamphlets, an account of his scottish tour, and a series of _lives of the poets_, he wrote little of importance after , comparing himself to a soldier who has fought a good many campaigns and is not to be blamed for retiring to ease and tranquillity. boswell. 'but i wonder, sir, you have not more pleasure in writing than in not writing.' johnson. 'sir, you _may_ wonder.' footnotes: [ ] this saturday was in fact march. [ ] johnson originally wrote _garret_, but, after his treatment by lord chesterfield, altered it to _patron_. [ ] this is now disputed, as it has been shown that there are in the second edition many variations from the original text. [ ] this was omitted in later editions and the following version retained: "a slave of state hired by a stipend to obey his master." see also the lines quoted from _london_, page . [ ] the prime minister. [ ] the degree of doctor of laws was conferred on him by the university of dublin in and by the university of oxford in . _johnson's household_ so far we have seen little of johnson's domestic life. he was happiest in a club or a tavern and, in the early days of struggle, home was not much more for him than the place where he sat down to write for a living. in his garret, which he considered as his library, a visitor would find "about five or six greek folios, a deal writing-desk, and a chair and a half. johnson giving to his guest the entire seat, tottered himself on one with only three legs and one arm." but the household which he gradually gathered round him was a remarkable one. of mrs johnson's life in london we do not know much; but johnson, being slovenly in his habits and cantankerous about his food, was bound to have "little disagreements" with a tidy housewife. "my wife" he told mrs thrale "had a particular reverence for cleanliness, and desired the praise of neatness in her dress and furniture, as many ladies do, till they become troublesome to their best friends, slaves to their own besoms, and only sigh for the hour of sweeping their husbands out of the house as dirt and useless lumber." when asked whether he ever "huffed his wife about his dinner," he replied: "so often that at last she called to me, and said, 'nay, hold, mr johnson, and do not make a farce of thanking god for a dinner which in a few minutes you will protest not eatable.'" sometimes she would get tired of the dirt and poverty of fleet street and stay for a time at hampstead; but she could appreciate her husband's work and of johnson's fondness for "his dear tetty" there can be no doubt. she died in march , when johnson had just finished the last number of _the rambler_ and was still in the middle of his labours on the dictionary. here is the letter he wrote on the following day to his friend, dr taylor: "dear sir, let me have your company and instruction. do not live away from me. my distress is great. pray desire mrs taylor to inform me what mourning i should buy for my mother and miss porter[ ], and bring a note in writing with you. remember me in your prayers, for vain is the help of man. i am, dear sir, &c., sam. johnson. march , ." "'sir,' he said twenty-six years later 'i have known what it was to have a wife, and (in a solemn tender faultering tone) i have known what it is to _lose a wife_.--it had almost broke my heart.'" long before the pension had given him security johnson had begun to make his home a refuge for the poor and lonely: "though johnson's circumstances were at this time far from being easy, his humane and charitable disposition was constantly exerting itself. mrs anna williams, daughter of a very ingenious welsh physician, and a woman of more than ordinary talents and literature, having come to london in hopes of being cured of a cataract in both her eyes, which afterwards ended in total blindness, was kindly received as a constant visitor at his house while mrs johnson lived; and after her death, having come under his roof in order to have an operation upon her eyes performed with more comfort to her than in lodgings, she had an apartment from him during the rest of her life, at all times when he had a house." from the accounts we have of mrs williams we cannot imagine her to have been an easy companion. her blindness made her peevish and quarrelsome and we may wonder, with boswell, at johnson's patience with her. but she was a good talker and that was a great merit in johnson's eyes. he made many efforts to brighten her life and increase her tiny income; garrick was induced to give her a benefit performance and mrs montagu to provide her with a small pension. "the truth is," says boswell "that his humane consideration of the forlorn and indigent state in which this lady was left by her father, induced him to treat her with the utmost tenderness, and even to be desirous of procuring her amusement, so as sometimes to incommode many of his friends, by carrying her with him to their houses, where, from her manner of eating, in consequence of her blindness, she could not but offend the delicacy of persons of nice sensations." but boswell was a proud man when he was first invited to drink tea with her after dining out with johnson. he knew that it was a sign of real intimacy. "we went home to his house to tea. mrs williams made it with sufficient dexterity, notwithstanding her blindness, though her manner of satisfying herself that the cups were full enough appeared to me a little aukward; for i fancied she put her finger down a certain way, till she felt the tea touch it[ ]. in my first elation at being allowed the privilege of attending dr johnson at his late visits to this lady ..., i willingly drank cup after cup." nor was the lady's dinner forgotten when boswell and johnson went off to their tavern: "there was, on these occasions, a little circumstance of kind attention to mrs williams, which must not be omitted. before coming out, and leaving her to dine alone, he gave her her choice of a chicken, a sweetbread, or any other little nice thing, which was carefully sent to her from the tavern, ready-drest." her death left johnson very desolate. "i have lost a companion," he wrote "to whom i have had recourse for domestick amusement for thirty years, and whose variety of knowledge never was exhausted.... she left her little substance to a charity-school. she is, i hope, where there is neither darkness, nor want, nor sorrow." about johnson had made the acquaintance of another "humble friend," mr robert levet. "he was" says boswell "an obscure practiser in physick amongst the lower people, his fees being sometimes very small sums, sometimes whatever provisions his patients could afford him; but of such extensive practice in that way, that mrs williams has told me, his walk was from hounsditch to marybone.... such was johnson's predilection for him, and fanciful estimation of his moderate abilities, that i have heard him say he should not be satisfied, though attended by all the college of physicians, unless he had mr levet with him. ever since i was acquainted with dr johnson, and many years before, as i have been assured by those who knew him earlier, mr levet had an apartment in his house, or his chambers, and waited upon him every morning, through the whole course of his late and tedious breakfast. he was of a strange grotesque appearance, stiff and formal in his manner, and seldom said a word while any company was present." but this "odd old surgeon" was poor and honest; and that, as goldsmith said, was recommendation enough to johnson, who never treated him as a dependent and indeed declared that "levet was indebted to him for nothing more than house-room, his share in a penny-loaf at breakfast, and now and then a dinner on a sunday." the greatest honour which johnson paid his old friend were the "pathetick verses" which he wrote at his death. here we will quote two stanzas: well try'd through many a varying year see _levett_ to the grave descend; officious, innocent, sincere, of every friendless name the friend. his virtues walk'd their narrow round, nor made a pause, nor left a void; and sure the eternal master found his single talent well employ'd. for five years towards the end of his life johnson had a further addition to his household. "on friday, march , [ ]" says boswell "i found him at his own house, sitting with mrs williams, and was informed that the room formerly allotted to me was now appropriated to a charitable purpose; mrs desmoulins[ ], and i think her daughter, and a miss carmichael, being all lodged in it. such was his humanity, and such his generosity, that mrs desmoulins herself told me, he allowed her half-a-guinea a week. let it be remembered, that this was above a twelfth part of his pension." the invasion had, as we shall see, a disturbing effect on the household and it was well that johnson had a devoted servant. this was francis barber, a negro who had been brought to england in and received his freedom (for the slave trade still flourished) from his master, colonel bathurst. dr bathurst, the colonel's son, was a very intimate friend of johnson and gave him francis as a servant. johnson, as his way was, made of him a friend. francis once took a fancy to go to sea; but johnson had a horror of the sailor's life and got him back. finding him intelligent and worth a better education he sent him to school at bishop stortford. here are two letters which shew johnson's fatherly kindness: "to mr francis barber. dear francis, i have been very much out of order. i am glad to hear that you are well, and design to come soon to see you. i would have you stay at mrs clapp's for the present, till i can determine what we shall do. be a good boy. my compliments to mrs clapp and to mr fowler. i am, yours affectionately, sam. johnson. may , ." "to mr francis barber, at mrs clapp's, bishop-stortford, hertfordshire. dear francis, i am at last sat down to write to you, and should very much blame myself for having neglected you so long, if i did not impute that and many other failings to want of health. i hope not to be so long silent again. i am very well satisfied with your progress, if you can really perform the exercises which you are set.... let me know what english books you read for your entertainment. you can never be wise unless you love reading. do not imagine that i shall forget or forsake you; for if, when i examine you, i find that you have not lost your time, you shall want no encouragement from yours affectionately, sam. johnson. london, sept. , ." after his four years' schooling francis returned to london and remained a faithful servant till his master's death. when johnson was making his will he "asked dr brocklesby what would be a proper annuity to a favourite servant, and being answered that it must depend on the circumstances of the master; and, that in the case of a nobleman, fifty pounds a year was considered as an adequate reward for many years' faithful service; 'then (said johnson,) shall i be _nobilissimus_, for i mean to leave frank seventy pounds a year, and i desire you to tell him so.'" lastly, we must mention a fireside creature that johnson loved: "i shall never forget" says boswell "the indulgence with which he treated hodge, his cat: for whom he himself used to go out and buy oysters, lest the servants having that trouble should take a dislike to the poor creature. i am, unluckily, one of those who have an antipathy to a cat, so that i am uneasy when in the room with one; and i own, i frequently suffered a good deal from the presence of this same hodge. i recollect him one day scrambling up dr johnson's breast, apparently with much satisfaction, while my friend smiling and half-whistling, rubbed down his back, and pulled him by the tail; and when i observed he was a fine cat, saying, 'why yes, sir, but i have had cats whom i liked better than this'; and then as if perceiving hodge to be out of countenance, adding, 'but he is a very fine cat, a very fine cat indeed.'" how did this "crowd of wretched old creatures," as macaulay rather unkindly calls them, agree? not very well. hodge was probably the only peaceful member. in the following conversation took place between johnson and his friends mr and mrs thrale: "mrs thrale. pray, sir, how does mrs williams like all this tribe? dr johnson. madam, she does not like them at all; but their fondness for her is not greater. she and desmoulins quarrel incessantly.... mr thrale. and pray who is clerk of your kitchen, sir? dr johnson. why, sir, i am afraid there is none; a general anarchy prevails in my kitchen, as i am told by mr levett, who says it is not now what it used to be. mrs thrale. mr levett, i suppose, sir, has the office of keeping the hospital in health, for he is an apothecary. dr johnson. levett, madam, is a brutal fellow, but i have a good regard for him; for his brutality is in his manners, not his mind. mr thrale. but how do you get your dinners drest? dr johnson. why, desmoulins has the chief management of the kitchen; but our roasting is not magnificent, for we have no jack. mr thrale. no jack! why, how do they manage without? dr johnson. small joints, i believe, they manage with a string, and larger are done at the tavern.... mrs thrale. but pray, sir, who is the poll[ ] you talk of? she that you used to abet in her quarrels with mrs williams, and call out, _at her again, poll! never flinch, poll!_ dr johnson. why, i took to poll very well at first, but she won't do upon a nearer examination. mrs thrale. how came she among you, sir? dr johnson. why i don't rightly remember, but we could spare her very well from us. poll is a stupid slut. i had some hopes of her at first; but when i talked to her tightly and closely, i could make nothing of her; she was wiggle waggle...." nothing, perhaps, makes us realise more fully johnson's largeness of heart than the picture of his extraordinary household. goldsmith was right when he said: "johnson, to be sure, has a roughness in his manner; but no man alive has a more tender heart. _he has nothing of the bear but his skin._" footnotes: [ ] his step-daughter. [ ] boswell afterwards found he was mistaken. mrs williams "had acquired such a niceness of touch, as to know, by the feeling on the outside of the cup, how near it was to being full." [ ] she was the daughter of johnson's godfather. [ ] poll was miss carmichael. see page . _his daily life_ johnson could tolerate the quarrels of his household and the anarchy of his kitchen better than most men, for the simple reason that he generally dined out at about o'clock and stayed in a club or a tavern or a friend's house until bedtime. a tavern chair was for him "the throne of human felicity" and we shall shortly see him as he loved best to be--"folding his legs and having his talk out" with his friends. first, let us see something of his daily habits and manner of life. here is boswell's description of him in later years: "his person was large, robust, i may say approaching to the gigantick, and grown unwieldy from corpulency. his countenance was naturally of the cast of an ancient statue, but somewhat disfigured by the scars of that _evil_, which, it was formerly imagined, the _royal touch_ could cure. he was now ... become a little dull of hearing. his sight had always been somewhat weak; yet, so much does mind govern, and even supply the deficiency of organs, that his perceptions were uncommonly quick and accurate. his head, and sometime also his body shook with a kind of motion like the effect of a palsy: he appeared to be frequently disturbed by cramps, or convulsive contractions, of the nature of that distemper called _st vitus's dance_. he wore a full suit of plain brown clothes, with twisted hair-buttons of the same colour, a large bushy greyish wig, a plain shirt, black worsted stockings, and silver buckles." his day began late with a breakfast consisting of a penny-loaf and a large pot of tea. it was not usually a very tidy meal, for johnson often appeared "in deshabille, as just risen from bed"; levet poured out the tea, while johnson clumsily divided the bread. when there was a guest, however, his "tea and rolls and butter, and whole breakfast apparatus were all in such decorum, and his behaviour was so courteous" that the visitor "was quite surprised, and wondered at his having heard so much said of johnson's slovenliness and roughness." once, when boswell called unexpectedly before he was up, he called briskly "frank, go and get coffee, and let us breakfast _in splendour_." but these splendid occasions were exceptional. "about twelve o'clock" wrote dr maxwell, a 'social friend' of johnson, "i commonly visited him, and frequently found him in bed, or declaiming over his tea, which he drank very plentifully. he generally had a levee of morning visitors, chiefly men of letters; hawkesworth, goldsmith, murphy, langton, steevens, beauclerk &c. &c., and sometimes learned ladies, particularly i remember a french lady of wit and fashion doing him the honour of a visit. he seemed to be considered as a kind of publick oracle, whom every body thought they had a right to visit and consult; and doubtless they were well rewarded. i never could discover how he found time for his compositions. he declaimed all the morning, then went to dinner at a tavern, where he commonly staid late, and then drank his tea at some friend's house, over which he loitered a great while, but seldom took supper. i fancy he must have read and wrote chiefly in the night, for i can scarcely recollect that he ever refused going with me to a tavern, and he often went to ranelagh, which he deemed a place of innocent recreation. he frequently gave all the silver in his pocket to the poor, who watched him, between his house and the tavern where he dined. he walked the streets at all hours and said he was never robbed, for the rogues knew he had little money, nor had the appearance of having much." such was johnson's week-day life. sunday was another matter. "it should be different (he observed) from another day. people may walk, but not throw stones at birds. there may be relaxation, but there should be no levity." he made some good resolutions accordingly: "to rise early, and in order to it, to go to sleep early on saturday.... to read the scripture methodically.... to go to church twice. to read books of divinity.... to wear off by meditation any worldly soil contracted in the week." as he himself confessed, he did not always keep his resolutions, but that religion was a real part of johnson's life and work is shewn not only by a score of incidents and conversations recorded by boswell, but by the numerous _prayers and meditations_ which were collected and published after his death. this was his prayer as he began the second volume of the dictionary: "o god, who hast hitherto supported me, enable me to proceed in this labour, and in the whole task of my present state; that when i shall render up, at the last day, an account of the talent committed to me, i may receive pardon, for the sake of jesus christ. amen." his favourite place of worship was st clement danes and in the churchyard to-day we may see his figure facing the street he loved best and still seeming ready to "defend the most minute circumstance connected with the church of england." partly from ill-health, partly by natural disposition, johnson was incurably lazy. "i have been trying" he told boswell "to cure my laziness all my life, and could not do it." he slept badly and had no inclination to go to bed; indeed he seldom came home till two in the morning. nor, as we shall see[ ], did he mind being roused in the middle of the night, if there was some fun to be had. "he has more fun" said his friend miss burney "and comical humour and love of nonsense about him than almost anybody i ever saw." his laugh was "a kind of good humoured growl" or, as tom davies the bookseller described it, "he laughed like a rhinoceros." boswell could not always share this boisterous amusement and was puzzled at his hero being "exceedingly diverted at what seemed to others a very small sport." one evening they were sitting in the temple with a lawyer named chambers who had just been drawing up a will for johnson's friend, langton. johnson's sense of humour was for some reason keenly tickled by this; he twitted chambers with having made the will himself and ran on in a playful manner, "which certainly was not such as might be expected from the authour of _the rambler_." "ha, ha, ha!" he bellowed "i hope he has left me a legacy. i'd have his will turned into verse, like a ballad." in the street, "johnson could not stop his merriment, but continued it all the way till we got without the temple-gate. he then burst into such a fit of laughter, that he appeared to be almost in a convulsion; and, in order to support himself, laid hold of one of the posts at the side of the foot pavement, and sent forth peals so loud, that in the silence of the night his voice seemed to resound from temple-bar to fleet-ditch." poor boswell is almost ashamed to record what he calls "this most ludicrous exhibition of the aweful, melancholy, and venerable johnson," but most of his readers prefer this picture of johnson staggering in helpless laughter down fleet street to the most impressive essay in _the rambler_. johnson's oddities in the street must often have made people turn round to look at him. he always took care, for instance, "to go out or in at a door or passage by a certain number of steps from a certain point, or at least so as that either his right or his left foot, (i am not certain which,) should constantly make the first actual movement when he came close to the door or passage. thus i conjecture: for i have, upon innumerable occasions, observed him suddenly stop, and then seem to count his steps with a deep earnestness; and when he had neglected or gone wrong in this sort of magical movement, i have seen him go back again, put himself in a proper posture to begin the ceremony, and, having gone through it, break from his abstraction, walk briskly on, and join his companion." he was full of these childish tricks. he would never, if he could help it, step on the cracks between paving-stones; when passing a row of posts, he was careful to touch the top of each with his hand; and all the time he would probably be talking to himself and jerking his head and limbs in the queer way which was habitual with him. indoors he was the same. strangers could not make him out: "johnson used to be a pretty frequent visitor at the house of mr richardson, authour of _clarissa_, and other novels of extensive reputation. mr hogarth came one day to see richardson, soon after the execution of dr cameron, for having taken arms for the house of stuart in - ." hogarth was "a warm partisan of george the second" and defended the king's decision. "while he was talking, he perceived a person standing at a window in the room, shaking his head, and rolling himself about in a strange ridiculous manner. he concluded that he was an ideot, whom his relations had put under the care of mr richardson, as a very good man. to his great surprize, however, this figure stalked forwards to where he and mr richardson were sitting, and all at once took up the argument, and burst out into an invective against george the second, as one, who, upon all occasions, was unrelenting and barbarous.... he displayed such a power of eloquence, that hogarth looked at him with astonishment, and actually imagined that this ideot had been at the moment inspired. neither hogarth nor johnson were made known to each other at this interview." it is a pity hogarth has not left us a picture of the scene. although he never wished to have a child of his own, johnson had a warm corner in his heart for young people: "mr strahan [the printer] had taken a poor boy from the country as an apprentice, upon johnson's recommendation. johnson having enquired after him, said, 'mr strahan, let me have five guineas on account, and i'll give this boy one. nay, if a man recommends a boy, and does nothing for him, it is sad work. call him down.' i followed him into the court-yard, behind mr strahan's house.... 'well, my boy, how do you go on?'--'pretty well, sir; but they are afraid i an't strong enough for some parts of the business.' johnson. 'why, i shall be sorry for it; for when you consider with how little mental power and corporeal labour a printer can get a guinea a week, it is a very desirable occupation for you. do you hear,--take all the pains you can; and if this does not do, we must think of some other way of life for you. there's a guinea.'" to his friends' children he liked to appear as a benevolent great-uncle; when mrs thrale was away from home, he would send her reports from the nursery: "i went this afternoon to visit the two babies at kensington, and found them indeed a little spotted with their disorder, but as brisk and gay as health and youth can make them. i took a paper of sweetmeats and spread them on the table. they took great delight to shew their governess the various animals that were made of sugar; and when they had eaten as much as was fit, the rest were laid up for to-morrow." here is another letter written in his seventy-fifth year--seven months before his death: "to miss jane langton. may , . my dearest miss jenny, i am sorry that your pretty letter has been so long without being answered; but, when i am not pretty well, i do not always write plain enough for young ladies. i am glad, my dear, to see that you write so well, and hope that you mind your pen, your book, and your needle, for they are all necessary. your books will give you knowledge, and make you respected; and your needle will find you useful employment when you do not care to read. when you are a little older, i hope you will be very diligent in learning arithmetick; and, above all, that through your whole life you will carefully say your prayers, and read your bible. i am, my dear, your most humble servant, sam. johnson." "he must have been a bold laugher," says boswell "who would have ventured to tell dr johnson of any of his particularities." but when a little girl asked him "pray, dr johnson, why do you make such strange gestures?" "from bad habit" he replied. "do you, my dear, take care to guard against bad habits." had the questioner been some distinguished man, the reply would more likely have been: "why, sir, because i choose to, and there's an end on't." footnotes: [ ] see page . _his clubs_ in spite of his oddities, johnson was, before everything, a social man. the great business of his life, he said, was to escape from himself, and he would never trust himself alone, "but when employed in writing or reading." he would beg a friend to go home with him simply to avoid being alone in the coach. "it was a very remarkable circumstance about johnson, whom shallow observers have supposed to have been ignorant of the world, that very few men had seen greater variety of characters.... the suddenness with which his accounts of some of them started out in conversation, was not less pleasing than surprising. i remember he once observed to me, 'it is wonderful, sir, what is to be found in london. the most literary conversation that i ever enjoyed, was at the table of jack ellis, a money-scrivener behind the royal exchange, with whom i at one period used to dine generally once a week.' volumes would be required to contain a list of his numerous and various acquaintance, none of whom he ever forgot.... he associated with persons the most widely different in manners, abilities, rank and accomplishments. he was at once the companion of the brilliant colonel forrester of the guards ... and of the aukward and uncouth robert levet; of lord thurlow[ ], and mr sastres, the italian master; and has dined one day with the beautiful, gay, and fascinating lady craven, and the next with good mrs gardiner, the tallow-chandler, on snow-hill." in the company of "social friends" johnson found his greatest pleasure. his own definition of a club was: "an assembly of good fellows, meeting under certain conditions," and it is characteristic of him that he was the inventor of the word _clubable_. for, in johnson's day, clubs were not luxurious halls where conversation was carried on in undertones; vigorous talking (with some eating and drinking) was the chief object of the company that gathered round the tavern table. of johnson's talk we need not say much here. it was, and is, his chief title to fame. in his lifetime a roomful of people would wait in expectant silence for him to begin; to-day his conversation remains the chief attraction of boswell's _life_ and of the many other books, great and small, that have been written about him. johnson looked upon conversation as a serious art and said that a good talker should have knowledge, command of words, imagination and a resolution not to be overcome by failures. this last he considered essential; and he certainly was not often overcome himself, for he could not bear to be worsted in argument, "even when he had taken the wrong side." hence his habit of "talking for victory." but johnson could not talk his best if the dinner had not been good. "for my part," he said in his blunt way "i mind my belly very studiously, and very carefully." "i never knew any man" says boswell "who relished good eating more than he did. when at table, he was totally absorbed in the business of the moment; his looks seemed rivetted to his plate; nor would he, unless when in very high company, say one word, or even pay the least attention to what was said by others, till he had satisfied his appetite, which was so fierce, and indulged with such intenseness, that while in the act of eating, the veins of his forehead swelled, and generally a strong perspiration was visible. to those whose sensations were delicate, this could not but be disgusting.... it must be owned that johnson, though he could be rigidly _abstemious_, was not a _temperate_ man either in eating or drinking. he could refrain, but he could not use moderately." johnson realised this well enough. so from to and for the last twenty years of his life he drank no wine at all[ ], except on special occasions. once or twice he persuaded boswell also to be "a water-drinker, upon trial"; but it is to be feared that boswell found it as hard to refrain as to use moderately--he had many a morning headache. wine or no wine, johnson saw no reason why he should be abstemious over the tea-cups. in a famous review of an _essay on tea_ he described himself as "a hardened and shameless tea-drinker, who has for twenty years diluted his meals with only the infusion of this fascinating plant; whose kettle has scarcely time to cool; who with tea amuses the evening, with tea solaces the midnight, and with tea welcomes the morning." after pouring out his sixteenth cup, a hostess once asked him if a small basin would not save him trouble. "'i wonder, madam,' answered he roughly, 'why all the ladies ask me such questions. it is to save yourselves trouble, madam, and not me.' the lady was silent and resumed her task." johnson founded his first club, as we have seen, as a relief from his monotonous work on the dictionary. it was a small society which met once a week at the king's head, "a famous beef-steak house" in ivy lane. "thither" wrote a member of the club "he constantly resorted with a disposition to please and be pleased. our conversations seldom began till after a supper so very solid and substantial as led us to think that with him it was a dinner ... his habitual melancholy and lassitude of spirit gave way; his countenance brightened." the ivy lane club broke up after about eight years, but some months before his death johnson "had the pleasure of giving another dinner to the remainder of the old club." "we were as cheerful," he wrote, "as in former times; only i could not make quite so much noise." towards the end of his life, too, he formed the essex head club, of which "the terms were lax and the expenses light." it had some distinguished members and boswell has preserved an interesting set of rules as drafted by johnson; but by far the most famous of johnson's clubs was the society known as the literary club, founded in . "sir joshua reynolds had the merit of being the first proposer of it, to which johnson acceded, and the original members were, sir joshua reynolds, dr johnson, mr edmund burke, dr nugent, mr beauclerk, mr langton, dr goldsmith, mr chamier, and sir john hawkins. they met at the turk's head, in gerrard-street, soho, one evening in every week, at seven, and generally continued their conversation till a pretty late hour. this club has been gradually increased to its present number, thirty-five." johnson did not at first encourage an increase in the number of members: "dr goldsmith said once to dr johnson, that he wished for some additional members to the literary club, to give it an agreeable variety; for (said he) there can now be nothing new among us: we have travelled over one another's minds. johnson seemed a little angry, and said, 'sir, you have not travelled over _my_ mind, i promise you.'" boswell gives us a list of members in a later year. in it we find the names of adam smith, the political economist, gibbon the historian, fox the politician, sir joseph banks the explorer, sheridan the dramatist, garrick the actor, and a number of bishops, statesmen, doctors and lawyers--all men of distinction; and over them all towered the figure, and afterwards the memory, of samuel johnson. boswell does not record many accounts of conversations at the club. probably the rules did not allow him to repeat much of what was said there. but here are one or two extracts: "johnson. 'i have been reading thicknesse's _travels_, which i think are entertaining.' boswell. 'what, sir, a good book?' johnson. 'yes, sir, to read once; i do not say you are to make a study of it, and digest it; and i believe it to be a true book in his intention. all travellers generally mean to tell truth....' "e.[ ] 'from the experience which i have had,--and i have had a great deal,--i have learnt to think _better_ of mankind.' johnson. 'from my experience i have found them worse in commercial dealings, more disposed to cheat, than i had any notion of; but more disposed to do one another good than i had conceived ... and really it is wonderful, considering how much attention is necessary for men to take care of themselves, and ward off immediate evils which press upon them, it is wonderful how much they do for others. as it is said of the greatest liar, that he tells more truth than falsehood; so it may be said of the worst man, that he does more good than evil.' boswell. 'perhaps from experience men may be found _happier_ than we suppose.' johnson. 'no, sir; the more we enquire, we shall find men the less happy....' "boswell. 'i have known a man resolved to put friendship to the test, by asking a friend to lend him money merely with that view, when he did not want it.' johnson. 'that is very wrong, sir. your friend may be a narrow man, and yet have many good qualities: narrowness may be his only fault. now you are trying his general character as a friend, by one particular singly, in which he happens to be defective, when, in truth, his character is composed of many particulars.'" "e. 'i understand the hogshead of claret, which this society was favoured with by our friend the dean, is nearly out; i think he should be written to, to send another of the same kind....' johnson. 'i am willing to offer my services as secretary on this occasion.' p. 'as many as are for dr johnson being secretary hold up your hands.--carried unanimously.' boswell. 'he will be our dictator.' johnson. 'no, the company is to dictate to me....'" boswell seldom had the last word. at another meeting of the club: "one of the company[ ] attempted, with too much forwardness, to rally him on his late appearance at the theatre; but had reason to repent of his temerity. 'why, sir, did you go to mrs abington's[ ] benefit? did you see?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'did you hear?' johnson. 'no, sir.' 'why then, sir, did you go?' johnson. 'because, sir, she is a favourite of the publick; and when the publick cares the thousandth part for you that it does for her, i will go to your benefit too.'" it was on the day after this meeting that boswell tried, in vain, to solve the mystery of one of johnson's oddities: "next morning i won a small bet from lady diana beauclerk, by asking him as to one of his particularities, which her ladyship laid i durst not do. it seems he had been frequently observed at the club to put into his pocket the seville oranges, after he had squeezed the juice of them into the drink which he made for himself. beauclerk and garrick talked of it to me, and seemed to think that he had a strange unwillingness to be discovered. we could not divine what he did with them; and this was the bold question to be put. i saw on his table the spoils of the preceding night, some fresh peels nicely scraped and cut into pieces. 'o, sir, (said i) i now partly see what you do with the squeezed oranges which you put into your pocket at the club.' johnson. 'i have a great love for them.' boswell. 'and pray, sir, what do you do with them? you scrape them, it seems, very neatly, and what next?' johnson. 'let them dry, sir.' boswell. 'and what next?' johnson. 'nay, sir, you shall know their fate no further.' boswell. 'then the world must be left in the dark. it must be said (assuming a mock solemnity,) he scraped them, and let them dry, but what he did with them next, he never could be prevailed upon to tell.' johnson. 'nay, sir, you should say it more emphatically:--he could not be prevailed upon, even by his dearest friends, to tell[ ].'" footnotes: [ ] the lord chancellor. [ ] see page . [ ] no doubt edmund burke. [ ] probably boswell. [ ] a famous actress. [ ] in a letter to miss boothby ( dec. ) johnson recommended "dried orange-peel finely powdered ... in a glass of hot red port" as "a very probable remedy for indigestion." _enter boswell_ boswell and many others of johnson's friends have already entered so often into the foregoing pages, that it is time we gave some space to the more prominent members of johnson's circle. james boswell was more than thirty years younger than johnson, being born at edinburgh in . he was the son of a scottish judge, lord auchinleck, and his own inclination was to be an officer in the guards; but at his father's wish he entered the profession of the law, and studied, not very industriously, first at edinburgh and afterwards at glasgow university. he dabbled in poetry and literary criticism and longed for the gayer world and more cultured society of london. he first visited the capital in and on his second visit fulfilled what was then the greatest ambition of his life--he met dr johnson. [illustration: james boswell] boswell's account of this meeting has become one of the most famous passages in english literature and part of it, at any rate, must be repeated here: "mr thomas davies the actor, who then kept a bookseller's shop in russel-street, covent-garden, told me that johnson was very much his friend, and came frequently to his house, where he more than once invited me to meet him; but by some unlucky accident or other he was prevented from coming to us. mr thomas davies was a man of good understanding and talents, with the advantage of a liberal education.... [he] recollected several of johnson's remarkable sayings, and was one of the best of the many imitators of his voice and manner, while relating them. he increased my impatience more and more to see the extraordinary man whose works i highly valued, and whose conversation was reported to be so peculiarly excellent. at last, on monday the th of may [ ], when i was sitting in mr davies's back-parlour, after having drunk tea with him and mrs davies, johnson unexpectedly came into the shop; and mr davies having perceived him through the glass-door in the room in which we were sitting, advancing towards us,--he announced his aweful approach to me, somewhat in the manner of an actor in the part of horatio, when he addresses hamlet on the appearance of his father's ghost, 'look, my lord, it comes.' i found that i had a very perfect idea of johnson's figure, from the portrait of him painted by sir joshua reynolds soon after he had published his _dictionary_, in the attitude of sitting in his easy chair in deep meditation, which was the first picture his friend did for him.... mr davies mentioned my name, and respectfully introduced me to him. i was much agitated; and recollecting his prejudice against the scotch, of which i had heard much, i said to davies, 'don't tell where i come from.'--'from scotland,' cried davies roguishly. 'mr johnson, (said i) i do indeed come from scotland, but i cannot help it.' i am willing to flatter myself that i meant this as light pleasantry to sooth and conciliate him, and not as an humiliating abasement at the expence of my country. but however that might be, this speech was somewhat unlucky; for with that quickness of wit for which he was so remarkable, he seized the expression 'come from scotland,' which i used in the sense of being of that country; and, as if i had said that i had come away from it, or left it, retorted, 'that, sir, i find, is what a very great many of your countrymen cannot help.' this stroke stunned me a good deal; and when we had sat down, i felt myself not a little embarrassed, and apprehensive of what might come next. he then addressed himself to davies: 'what do you think of garrick? he has refused me an order for the play for miss williams, because he knows the house will be full, and that an order would be worth three shillings.' eager to take any opening to get into conversation with him, i ventured to say, 'o, sir, i cannot think mr garrick would grudge such a trifle to you.' 'sir (said he, with a stern look,) i have known david garrick longer than you have done: and i know no right you have to talk to me on the subject.' perhaps i deserved this check; for it was rather presumptuous in me, an entire stranger, to express any doubt of the justice of his animadversion upon his old acquaintance and pupil. i now felt myself much mortified, and began to think that the hope which i had long indulged of obtaining his acquaintance was blasted. and, in truth, had not my ardour been uncommonly strong, and my resolution uncommonly persevering, so rough a reception might have deterred me for ever from making any further attempts. fortunately, however, i remained upon the field not wholly discomfited; and was soon rewarded by hearing some of his conversation...." before the end of the interview boswell recovered a little from his nervousness; but, as he was going, complained to davies of the hard blows the great man had given him. davies, who had no doubt enjoyed the evening with considerable relish, cheered him by saying "don't be uneasy. i can see he likes you very well." a few days later boswell made a further venture. he "boldly repaired" to johnson's chambers on the first floor on no. inner-temple-lane. "he received me very courteously; but it must be confessed, that his apartment, and furniture, and morning dress, were sufficiently uncouth. his brown suit of cloaths looked very rusty; he had on a little old shrivelled unpowdered wig, which was too small for his head; his shirt-neck and knees of his breeches were loose; his black worsted stockings ill drawn up; and he had a pair of unbuckled shoes by way of slippers. but all these slovenly particularities were forgotten the moment that he began to talk. some gentlemen, whom i do not recollect, were sitting with him; and when they went away, i also rose; but he said to me, 'nay, don't go.' 'sir (said i,) i am afraid that i intrude upon you. it is benevolent to allow me to sit and hear you.' he seemed pleased with this compliment, which i sincerely paid him, and answered, 'sir, i am obliged to any man who visits me.'" he soon reached a further stage of intimacy: "i had learnt that his place of frequent resort was the mitre tavern in fleet-street, where he loved to sit up late, and i begged i might be allowed to pass an evening with him there soon, which he promised i should. a few days afterwards i met him near temple-bar, about one o'clock in the morning, and asked him if he would then go to the mitre. 'sir, (said he) it is too late; they won't let us in. but i'll go with you another night with all my heart.'" there is only one way to follow the progress of this friendship--and that is to read boswell's own story of it. boswell did not get on very happily with his father and, whenever he could, left his ayrshire home for london; and in london his chief delight was to be with johnson. they often travelled together and in a later chapter we shall read some account of their journeys, especially of johnson's visit to scotland, about which each of them wrote a book. here we will be content with a few typical incidents and conversations in the long friendship. johnson could not have found a better listener than "bozzy," as he soon began to call him. boswell's worship of his hero may often seem to us absurd, but we may be sure that johnson would never have tolerated, much less loved, a man who was simply a flatterer. boswell was really interested in the things johnson talked about and, without any pretence, enjoyed the same kind of pleasures--dining out, arguing over a good bottle of port, staying at friends' houses, examining cathedrals, wandering up and down fleet street, coming down late to breakfast. "no man," as johnson said, "is a hypocrite in his pleasures." moreover, johnson "loved the acquaintance of young people." "sir," he said "young men have more virtue than old men; they have more generous sentiments in every respect. i love the young dogs of this age: they have more wit and humour and knowledge of life than we had; but then the dogs are not so good scholars." boswell was certainly "a young dog"; and even the fact that he came from scotland must have been a source of pleasure to johnson, who, when he had no other retort ready, could always bring out the old joke in a new form. above all, boswell was _clubable_; and johnson could give no higher praise. but we must return to the mitre, where boswell is now a proud host: "i had as my guests this evening at the mitre tavern, dr johnson, dr goldsmith, mr thomas davies, mr eccles ... and the reverend mr john ogilvie, who was desirous of being in company with my illustrious friend, while i, in my turn, was proud to have the honour of shewing one of my countrymen upon what easy terms johnson permitted me to live with him.... mr ogilvie was unlucky enough to choose for the topick of his conversation the praises of his native country. he began with saying, that there was very rich land round edinburgh. goldsmith, who had studied physick there, contradicted this, very untruly, with a sneering laugh. disconcerted a little by this, mr ogilvie then took new ground, where, i suppose, he thought himself perfectly safe; for he observed, that scotland had a great many noble wild prospects. johnson. 'i believe, sir, you have a great many. norway, too, has noble wild prospects; and lapland is remarkable for prodigious noble wild prospects. but, sir, let me tell you, the noblest prospect which a scotchman ever sees, is the high road that leads him to england!'" the friendship ripened quickly. when boswell announced that he would shortly be going to utrecht to continue his study of the law, johnson said, "i must see thee out of england; i will accompany you to harwich." boswell "could not find words to express what he felt upon this unexpected and very great mark of his affectionate regard." when the time came, he was loth to go: "after tea he carried me to what he called his walk, which was a long narrow paved court in the neighbourhood, overshadowed by some trees. there we sauntered a considerable time; and i complained to him that my love of london and of his company was such, that i shrunk almost from the thought of going away, even to travel, which is generally so much desired by young men. he roused me by manly and spirited conversation. he advised me, when settled in any place abroad, to study with an eagerness after knowledge and to apply to greek an hour every day; and when i was moving about, to read diligently the great book of mankind." on the way to harwich johnson was more jocular. in the stage coach "a fat elderly gentlewoman, and a young dutchman seemed the most inclined among us to conversation. at the inn where we dined, the gentlewoman said that she had done her best to educate her children; and particularly that she had never suffered them to be a moment idle. johnson. 'i wish, madam, you would educate me too; for i have been an idle fellow all my life.' 'i am sure, sir, (said she) you have not been idle.' johnson. 'nay, madam, it is very true; and that gentleman there (pointing to me,) has been idle. he was idle at edinburgh. his father sent him to glasgow, where he continued to be idle. he then came to london, where he has been very idle; and now he is going to utrecht, where he will be as idle as ever.' i asked him privately how he could expose me so. johnson. 'poh, poh! (said he) they knew nothing about you, and will think of it no more.'" the first meeting between these two men had taken place in may . boswell left for utrecht in the august of the same year. his description of his farewell to johnson at harwich shews how firmly their friendship had been formed in a few months: "my revered friend walked down with me to the beach, where we embraced and parted with tenderness, and engaged to correspond by letters. i said, 'i hope, sir, you will not forget me in my absence.' johnson. 'nay, sir, it is more likely you should forget me, than that i should forget you.' as the vessel put out to sea, i kept my eyes upon him for a considerable time, while he remained rolling his majestick frame in his usual manner: and at last i perceived him walk back into the town, and he disappeared." _more about boswell_ boswell travelled a good deal and visited several european countries besides holland. he took a special interest in corsica and afterwards wrote a book about the people of the island. johnson was at first discouraging on this subject and wished boswell would empty his head of it, but he afterwards highly praised his _journal_. on his return to london, boswell found that his admiration of his hero's "extraordinary mind" was "increased and confirmed," and when, a few years later, he was about to be married, he promised himself a great deal of instructive conversation with johnson "on the conduct of the married state," but johnson (who said once that marriages in general would be as happy, and often more so, if they were all made by the lord chancellor) "did not say much upon that topick." when johnson went to stay with his friend in scotland, mrs boswell found his visit quite long enough: "the truth is, that his irregular hours and uncouth habits, such as turning the candles with their heads downwards, when they did not burn bright enough, and letting the wax drop upon the carpet, could not but be disagreeable to a lady. besides, she had not that high admiration of him which was felt by most of those who knew him; and what was very natural to a female mind, she thought he had too much influence over her husband. she once in a little warmth, made, with more point than justice, this remark upon that subject: 'i have seen many a bear led by a man; but i never before saw a man led by a bear.'" it is delightful to note boswell's pride as each fresh link is formed in the chain of friendship. johnson, as we have seen, was a devout christian and encouraged his friend to join him in his devotions: "on the th of april [ ], being good friday, i breakfasted with him on tea and cross-buns; _doctor_ levet, as frank called him, making the tea. he carried me with him to the church of st clement danes, where he had his seat; and his behaviour was, as i had imaged to myself, solemnly devout. i never shall forget the tremulous earnestness with which he pronounced the awful petition in the litany: 'in the hour of death, and at the day of judgement, good lord deliver us.' we went to church both in the morning and evening. in the interval between the two services we did not dine; but he read in the greek new testament, and i turned over several of his books." two days later he had his first dinner at johnson's house: "i had ... great curiosity to dine with dr samuel johnson, in the dusky recess of a court in fleet-street. i supposed we should scarcely have knives and forks, and only some strange, uncouth, ill-drest dish: but i found every thing in very good order. we had no other company but mrs williams and a young woman whom i did not know. as a dinner here was considered as a singular phænomenon, and as i was frequently interrogated on the subject, my readers may perhaps be desirous to know our bill of fare.... we had a very good soup, a boiled leg of lamb and spinach, a veal pye, and a rice pudding." boswell was made still prouder when shortly afterwards he was admitted to the club: "on friday, april , i dined with him at mr beauclerk's, where were lord charlemont, sir joshua reynolds, and some more members of the literary club, whom he had obligingly invited to meet me, as i was this evening to be balloted for as candidate for admission into that distinguished society. johnson had done me the honour to propose me, and beauclerk was very zealous for me...." "the gentlemen went away to their club, and i was left at beauclerk's till the fate of my election should be announced to me. i sat in a state of anxiety which even the charming conversation of lady di beauclerk could not entirely dissipate. in a short time i received the agreeable intelligence that i was chosen. i hastened to the place of meeting, and was introduced to such a society as can seldom be found.... upon my entrance, johnson placed himself behind a chair, on which he leaned as on a desk or pulpit, and with humorous formality gave me a _charge_, pointing out the conduct expected from me as a good member of this club." when they were travelling together in scotland johnson frankly told him a little more about the election, and boswell as frankly tells us: "he told me, 'sir, you got into our club by doing what a man can do. several of the members wished to keep you out. burke told me, he doubted if you were fit for it: but, now you are in, none of them are sorry. burke says, that you have so much good humour naturally, it is scarce a virtue.' boswell. 'they were afraid of you, sir, as it was you who proposed me.' johnson. 'sir, they knew, that if they refused you, they'd probably never have got in another. i'd have kept them all out.'" perhaps the boldest thing boswell did in the course of his friendship with johnson was to arrange a meeting between him and john wilkes. the story of wilkes belongs to the history-books. himself a member of parliament, he had in violently attacked the king and his minister, lord bute, in a famous issue of _the north briton_. for this he was imprisoned in the tower and expelled from the house of commons. but outside parliament there was much sympathy with him, especially in london, and he quickly became a popular hero. "wilkes and liberty for ever" was the cry. he was three times re-elected as member for middlesex, but each time parliament refused to let him take his seat. finally, after being made lord mayor of london in , he had a great triumph in the house of commons in the following year, when all the previous resolutions against him were annulled. it is not difficult to imagine how dr johnson, with his principles of loyalty to king and government, felt towards this hero of popular liberty. boswell realised this quite well: "my desire of being acquainted with celebrated men of every description, had made me, much about the same time, obtain an introduction to dr samuel johnson and to john wilkes, esq. two men more different could perhaps not be selected out of all mankind. they had even attacked one another with some asperity in their writings; yet i lived in habits of friendship with both. i could fully relish the excellence of each.... i conceived an irresistible wish, if possible, to bring dr johnson and mr wilkes together. how to manage it, was a nice and difficult matter." boswell went tactfully to work. after getting johnson's consent to dine at mr dilly's, he hinted at strange company: "'provided, sir, i suppose, that the company which he is to have, is agreeable to you.' johnson. 'what do you mean, sir? what do you take me for? do you think i am so ignorant of the world, as to imagine that i am to prescribe to a gentleman what company he is to have at his table?' boswell. 'i beg your pardon, sir ... i should not be surprized to find jack wilkes there.' johnson. 'and if jack wilkes _should_ be there, what is that to _me_, sir?'" "upon the much-expected wednesday, i called on him about half an hour before dinner, as i often did when we were to dine out together, to see that he was ready in time, and to accompany him. i found him buffeting his books, as upon a former occasion, covered with dust, and making no preparation for going abroad. 'how is this, sir? (said i.) don't you recollect that you are to dine at mr dilly's?' johnson. 'sir, i did not think of going to dilly's: it went out of my head. i have ordered dinner at home with mrs williams.' boswell. 'but, my dear sir, you know you were engaged to mr dilly, and i told him so. he will expect you, and will be much disappointed if you don't come.' johnson. 'you must talk to mrs williams about this.'" here, as boswell says, was a sad dilemma. there was nothing for it but to approach mrs williams. she was difficult at first, but "gradually softened" and finally gave her consent that the doctor should go. "i flew back to him, still in dust, and careless of what should be the event, 'indifferent in his choice to go or stay'; but as soon as i had announced to him mrs williams' consent, he roared 'frank, a clean shirt,' and was very soon drest. when i had him fairly seated in a hackney-coach with me, i exulted as much as a fortune-hunter who has got an heiress into a post-chaise with him to set out for gretna-green. when we entered mr dilly's drawing-room, he found himself in the midst of a company he did not know.... 'and who is the gentleman in lace?'--'mr wilkes, sir.' this information confounded him still more; he had some difficulty to restrain himself, and taking up a book, sat down upon a window-seat and read, or at least kept his eye upon it intently for some time, till he composed himself...." "the cheering sound of 'dinner is upon the table,' dissolved his reverie, and we _all_ sat down without any symptom of ill humour.... mr wilkes placed himself next to dr johnson, and behaved to him with so much attention and politeness, that he gained upon him insensibly. no man eat more heartily than johnson, or loved better what was nice and delicate. mr wilkes was very assiduous in helping him to some fine veal. 'pray give me leave, sir:--it is better here--a little of the brown--some fat, sir--a little of the stuffing--some gravy--let me have the pleasure of giving you some butter--allow me to recommend a squeeze of this orange;--or the lemon, perhaps, may have more zest.'--'sir, sir, i am obliged to you, sir,' cried johnson, bowing, and turning his head to him...." the good fare provided by mr dilly and the tact of john wilkes himself soon made things easier. johnson was before long talking in his usual domineering way about poets and players, and eventually he and wilkes found at least one "bond of union"--a common prejudice against scotland. so they "amused themselves with persevering in the old jokes." "johnson (to mr wilkes). 'you must know, sir, i lately took my friend boswell and shewed him genuine civilised life in an english provincial town. i turned him loose at lichfield, my native city, that he might see for once real civility: for you know he lives among savages in scotland, and among rakes in london.' wilkes. 'except when he is with grave, sober, decent people like you and me.' johnson (smiling). 'and we ashamed of him.'" boswell did not mind this kind of chaff. he was too pleased with his "successful negociation." once or twice johnson went too far, even for boswell's humble devotion: "on saturday, may , [ ] i dined with him at sir joshua reynolds's, where there was a very large company ... less attention was paid to him than usual, which put him out of humour; and upon some imaginary offence from me, he attacked me with such rudeness, that i was vexed and angry.... i was so much hurt, and had my pride so much roused, that i kept away from him for a week...." "on friday, may , i dined with him at mr langton's. i was reserved and silent, which i suppose he perceived, and might recollect the cause. after dinner when ... we were by ourselves, he drew his chair near to mine, and said, in a tone of conciliating courtesy, 'well, how have you done?' boswell. 'sir, you have made me very uneasy by your behaviour to me when we were last at sir joshua reynolds's. you know, my dear sir, no man has a greater respect and affection for you, or would sooner go to the end of the world to serve you. now to treat me so--.' he insisted that i had interrupted him, which i assured him was not the case; and proceeded--'but why treat me so before people who neither love you nor me?' johnson. 'well, i am sorry for it. i'll make it up to you twenty different ways, as you please.' boswell. 'i said to-day to sir joshua, when he observed that you _tossed_ me sometimes--i don't care how often, or how high he tosses me, when only friends are present, for then i fall upon soft ground: but i do not like falling on stones, which is the case when enemies are present.'" but these tiffs were rare. "my regard for you" johnson told boswell with a sincerity we cannot doubt "is greater almost than i have words to express; but i do not choose to be always repeating it." he did so, however, in many a letter to his friend: "my dear boswell," he wrote "do not neglect to write to me; for your kindness is one of the pleasures of my life, which i should be sorry to lose." boswell's reply was no less sincere: "be assured, my dear sir, that my affection and reverence for you are exalted and steady. i do not believe that a more perfect attachment ever existed in the history of mankind." _david garrick_ except for the part he played in johnson's _irene_, we have heard little of david garrick since he came to london in "with three-halfpence in his pocket." he at first entered lincoln's inn to study the law, but he had a passion for the stage and made his first appearance in the part of a harlequin. unlike johnson, he did not have to face a long period of poverty and 'cold obscurity'; he received a legacy of £ and before he had spent it all, his acting of the part of _richard iii_ in quickly made him famous. mr pope declared: "that young man never had his equal as an actor and he never will have a rival," and there were "a dozen dukes of a night" at the theatre in goodman's fields. he made large sums of money and in a few years' time became manager of drury lane theatre, where he tried hard, but in vain, to make johnson's tragedy a success. in the bitterness of his early struggle johnson was no doubt a little jealous of his old pupil. "his being outstripped by his pupil" says boswell "in the race of immediate fame, as well as of fortune, probably made him feel some indignation, as thinking that whatever might be garrick's merits in his art, the reward was too great when compared with what the most successful efforts of literary labour could attain.... his schoolfellow and friend, dr taylor, told me a pleasant anecdote of johnson's triumphing over his pupil david garrick. when that great actor had played some little time at goodman's fields, johnson and taylor went to see him perform, and afterwards passed the evening at a tavern with him and old giffard[ ]. johnson ... after censuring some mistakes in emphasis which garrick had committed in the course of that night's acting, said, 'the players, sir, have got a kind of rant, with which they run on, without any regard to accent or emphasis.' both garrick and giffard were offended at this sarcasm, and endeavoured to refute it; upon which johnson rejoined, 'well now, i'll give you something to speak, with which you are little acquainted, and then we shall see how just my observation is. that shall be the criterion. let me hear you repeat the ninth commandment, "thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour."' both tried at it, said dr taylor, and both mistook the emphasis, which should be upon _not_ and _false witness_. johnson put them right, and enjoyed his victory with great glee." [illustration: a pit check, goodman's fields theatre] [illustration: drury lane theatre] whether johnson was right or not may still be argued, but he loved to get davy back at school again. garrick, too, retained some of his school-boy tricks of mimicry: "he could imitate johnson very exactly.... i recollect his exhibiting him to me one day, as if saying, 'davy has some convivial pleasantry about him, but 'tis a futile fellow;' which he uttered perfectly with the tone and air of johnson." johnson's provincial accent (he pronounced _once_ as _woonse_) gave garrick another opening: "garrick sometimes used to take him off, squeezing a lemon into a punch-bowl, with uncouth gesticulations, looking round the company, and calling out, 'who's for _poonsh_?'" johnson, for his part, never quite got rid of his feeling of contempt for the actor's profession. he often discussed it with boswell: "boswell. 'sir ..., you never will allow merit to a player.' johnson. 'merit, sir! what merit? do you respect a rope-dancer, or a ballad-singer?' boswell. 'no, sir: but we respect a great player, as a man who can conceive lofty sentiments and can express them gracefully.' johnson. 'what, sir, a fellow who claps a hump on his back, and a lump on his leg, and cries "_i am richard the third?_"' ... boswell. 'my dear sir! you may turn anything into ridicule ... a great player does what very few are capable to do: his art is a very rare faculty. _who_ can repeat hamlet's soliloquy, "to be, or not to be," as garrick does it?' johnson. 'anybody may. jemmy, there (a boy about eight years old, who was in the room), will do it as well in a week.' boswell. 'no, no, sir: and as a proof of the merit of great acting, and of the value which mankind set upon it, garrick has got a hundred thousand pounds.' johnson. 'is getting a hundred thousand pounds a proof of excellence? that has been done by a scoundrel commissary.'" poor bozzy! "i was _sure_, for once," he says, "that i had the best side of the argument." as if that made any difference to johnson when he was "talking for victory"! both garrick and johnson were lovers of books--but in a different way. johnson was "born to grapple with whole libraries," as boswell's uncle said, but he did not treat a rare volume with the tender care of a collector. when he was putting his books in order, he wore a pair of large gloves "such as hedgers use," and "buffeted" them so that clouds of dust flew round him. when he was reading a new book it was said that "he tore out the heart of it"; when he was tidying his old ones it is to be feared that he sometimes tore off the covers of them. garrick had some old and valued editions, and seems to have offended johnson by hesitating to lend them to him. even boswell admits that "considering the slovenly and careless manner in which books were treated by johnson, it could not be expected that scarce and valuable editions should have been lent to him." garrick, moreover, had learnt by experience. here is the story as he told it to miss burney: "'david!' said johnson, 'will you lend me your _petrarca_[ ]?' 'y-e-s, sir!' 'david! you sigh?' 'sir--you shall have it certainly.' accordingly the book, stupendously bound, i sent to him that very evening. but scarcely had he taken it in his hands, when, as boswell tells me, he poured forth a greek ejaculation and a couplet or two from horace, and then in one of those fits of enthusiasm which always seem to require that he should spread his arms aloft, he suddenly pounces my poor _petrarca_ over his head upon the floor. and then, standing for several minutes lost in abstraction, he forgot probably that he had ever seen it." as his old schoolmaster, johnson took good care that garrick should not suffer from swelled head: "not very long after the institution of our club, sir joshua reynolds was speaking of it to garrick. 'i like it much, (said he,) i think i shall be of you.' when sir joshua mentioned this to dr johnson, he was much displeased with the actor's conceit. '_he'll be of us_, (said johnson) how does he know we will _permit_ him? the first duke in england has no right to hold such language.' however, when garrick was regularly proposed some time afterwards, johnson, though he had taken a momentary offence at his arrogance, warmly and kindly supported him, and he was accordingly elected, was a most agreeable member, and continued to attend our meetings to the time of his death." each of them, indeed, was ready to help the other when he could. when the advertisement of johnson's _dictionary_ appeared in _the gentleman's magazine_, there was printed beneath it a complimentary ode, written by garrick, and ending with the lines: and johnson, well arm'd like a hero of yore, has beat forty french, and will beat forty more![ ] when drury lane theatre was first opened under the management of garrick, the prologue (one of the two decent prologues in the language, according to byron) was written by johnson. it is a fine appeal to the public to support garrick in ennobling the stage by the revival of shakespeare: ah! let not censure term our fate our choice, the stage but echoes back the public voice; the drama's laws, the drama's patrons give, for we that live to please, must please to live. the truth was, as sir joshua reynolds said: "johnson considered garrick to be as it were his _property_. he would allow no man either to blame or to praise garrick in his presence, without contradicting him." boswell discovered this, as we have seen, at the famous meeting in tom davies's back parlour. garrick died in and was buried with great pomp in westminster abbey. his death provoked one of the most famous of all johnson's sentences: "that stroke of death" he wrote, "has eclipsed the gaiety of nations." [illustration: david garrick] of his personal character johnson said even finer things and when boswell tried to press him, he retired, as usual, defeated: "johnson. 'garrick was a very good man, the cheerfullest man of his age; a decent liver in a profession which is supposed to give indulgence to licentiousness; and a man who gave away, freely, money acquired by himself. he began the world with a great hunger for money; the son of a half-pay officer, bred in a family, whose study was to make four-pence do as much as others made four-pence halfpenny do. but, when he had got money, he was very liberal....' [boswell] 'you say, sir, his death eclipsed the gaiety of nations.' johnson. 'i could not have said more nor less. it is the truth; _eclipsed_, not _extinguished_; and his death _did_ eclipse; it was like a storm.' boswell. 'but why nations? did his gaiety extend farther than his own nation?' johnson. 'why, sir, some exaggeration must be allowed. besides, nations may be said--if we allow the scotch to be a nation, and to have gaiety,--which they have not. _you_ are an exception, though. come, gentlemen, let us candidly admit that there is one scotchman who is cheerful.' beauclerk. 'but he is a very unnatural scotchman.'" oliver goldsmith once wrote a series of playful epitaphs for his friends. these were his first two lines on garrick: here lies david garrick, describe him who can, an abridgment of all that was pleasant in man. footnotes: [ ] the manager of goodman's fields theatre. [ ] the author whom johnson had first discovered on the apple-shelf at lichfield. see p. . [ ] see p. . _oliver goldsmith_ oliver goldsmith, known best to us as the author of _the vicar of wakefield_, and described by boswell as "one of the brightest ornaments of the johnsonian school" was, like his master, an adventurer in literature. the son of a poor irish clergyman, he went, after an unhappy time at school, where he was teased by the boys on account of his disfigurement by small pox, to trinity college, dublin. here, like johnson at oxford, he was a "lounger at the college-gate" and, in spite of his poverty, a leading spirit in college riots, such as the ducking of a bailiff and the gathering of a dancing party "of humblest sort" in his college room. however, he worked hard enough to get the degree of bachelor of arts, and learnt, besides, to write ballads and to play the flute. after three years of idleness he went to edinburgh to study medicine, the money being provided by a generous uncle. but more of this bounty was spent on fine clothes than on medical books and his restlessness soon drove him abroad to the university of leyden, where he studied little except in what johnson calls "the great book of mankind." with the true spirit of the irish adventurer he now began his wanderings on foot through flanders, france, switzerland and italy. sometimes he had to depend on the tunes of his flute to get him food and lodging; sometimes he earned a few shillings "by demanding at universities to enter the lists as a disputant." having thus disputed his passage through europe, as boswell says, he landed in england at the age of without a shilling in his pocket. for him, as for johnson, there was only one kind of life possible--the life of "grub street." here are a few lines from his own _description of an author's bedchamber_: the morn was cold, he views with keen desire the rusty grate unconscious of a fire: with beer and milk arrears the frieze was scored, and five crack'd teacups dress'd the chimney board: a nightcap deck'd his brows instead of bay, a cap by night--a stocking all the day! in his early years in london he was, as boswell tells us, "employed successively in the capacities of an usher to an academy, a corrector of the press, a reviewer, and a writer for a news-paper. he had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of johnson.... to me and many others it appeared that he studiously copied the manner of johnson, though, indeed, upon a smaller scale. at this time i think he had published nothing with his name, though it was pretty generally known that _one dr goldsmith_ was the authour of _an enquiry into the present state of polite learning in europe_, and of _the citizen of the world_, a series of letters supposed to be written from london by a chinese." johnson paid his first visit to goldsmith in . dr percy, a friend of both, gave this account of it: "the first visit goldsmith ever received from johnson was on may , , when he gave an invitation to him, and much other company, many of them literary men, to a supper in his lodgings in wine office court, fleet street. percy being intimate with johnson, was desired to call upon him and take him with him. as they went together the former was much struck with the studied neatness of johnson's dress. he had on a new suit of clothes, a new wig nicely powdered, and everything about him so perfectly dissimilar from his usual appearance that his companion could not help inquiring the cause of this singular transformation. 'why, sir,' said johnson, 'i hear that goldsmith, who is a very great sloven, justifies his disregard of cleanliness and decency by quoting my practice, and i am desirous this night to show him a better example.'" johnson quickly took goldsmith to his heart, and praised his writing at a time when the public "_made a point_ to know nothing about it." goldsmith was an original member of the literary club and, rather to boswell's chagrin, soon became a real intimate of johnson's household: "my next meeting with johnson," says boswell, "was on friday the st of july, [ ] when he and i and dr goldsmith supped together at the mitre.... goldsmith's respectful attachment to johnson was then at its height; for his own literary reputation had not yet distinguished him so much as to excite a vain desire of competition with his great master. he had increased my admiration of the goodness of johnson's heart, by incidental remarks in the course of conversation, such as ... when i wondered that he was very kind to a man of whom i had heard a very bad character, 'he is now become miserable, and that insures the protection of johnson....'" [illustration: oliver goldsmith] "at this time _miss_ williams, as she was then called ... had so much of his attention, that he every night drank tea with her before he went home, however late it might be.... dr goldsmith, being a privileged man, went with him this night, strutting away, and calling to me with an air of superiority ... 'i go to miss williams.' i confess, i then envied him this mighty privilege, of which he seemed so proud; but it was not long before i obtained the same mark of distinction[ ]." goldsmith, indeed, was sometimes rather bitter about boswell. "who _is_ this scotch cur at johnson's heels?" asked someone. "he is not a cur," answered goldsmith, "you are too severe. he is only a bur. tom davies flung him at johnson in sport, and he has the faculty of sticking." _the traveller_, published in , at length brought goldsmith fame, though not a fortune. he received but twenty guineas for it and was still miserable enough to qualify for johnson's protection. "i received one morning," so johnson told boswell, "a message from poor goldsmith that he was in great distress, and as it was not in his power to come to me, begging that i would come to him as soon as possible. i sent him a guinea, and promised to come to him directly. i accordingly went as soon as i was drest, and found that his landlady had arrested him for his rent, at which he was in a violent passion. i perceived that he had already changed my guinea, and had got a bottle of madeira and a glass before him. i put the cork into the bottle, desired he would be calm, and began to talk to him of the means by which he might be extricated. he then told me that he had a novel ready for the press, which he produced to me. i looked into it, and saw its merit; told the landlady i should soon return, and having gone to a bookseller, sold it for sixty pounds. i brought goldsmith the money, and he discharged his rent, not without rating his landlady in a high tone for having used him so ill." the novel ready for the press was _the vicar of wakefield_. this is not the place for a full account of goldsmith's works; but we will glance at one or two. the picture of english country life in _the deserted village_ still delights us. here, for instance, are a few lines on the village schoolmaster: there, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule, the village master taught his little school: a man severe he was, and stern to view, i knew him well, and every truant knew; well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace the day's disasters in his morning face; full well they laughed with counterfeited glee at all his jokes, for many a joke had he. as a writer of plays, goldsmith gained a great success with _she stoops to conquer_. johnson, to whom it was dedicated, said: "i know of no comedy for many years that has so much exhilarated an audience, that has answered so much the great end of comedy--making an audience merry." goldsmith wrote histories of england, greece, and rome--sometimes inaccurate, but always readable, and, with but a shallow knowledge of natural science, plunged into a work called _a history of the earth and animated nature_. he had, as boswell says, "a more than common share of that hurry of ideas which we often find in his countrymen." "goldsmith told us, that he was now busy in writing a natural history, and ... had taken lodgings, at a farmer's house, near to the six mile-stone, on the edgeware road, and had carried down his books in two returned post-chaises.... i went to visit him at this place ... and found curious scraps of descriptions of animals, scrawled upon the wall with a black lead pencil." when johnson heard of the project, he said: "goldsmith, sir, will give us a very fine book upon the subject; but if he can distinguish a cow from a horse, that, i believe, may be the extent of his knowledge of natural history." goldsmith was certainly not very sound on cows. this is what he says of their horns: "at three years old the cow sheds its horns, and new ones arise in their place, which continue as long as it lives"! but all that goldsmith wrote had charm, and no one was more sensitive to it than johnson. in conversation goldsmith was not so happy. garrick described him as one ... for shortness call'd noll, who wrote like an angel, but talked like poor poll, and johnson said of him: "no man was more foolish when he had not a pen in his hand, or more wise when he had." the truth was that goldsmith's vanity, which made him eager to get in and _shine_, could not bear the rough buffetings of johnson's talk. "there is no arguing with johnson," he complained, "for when his pistol misses fire, he knocks you down with the butt end of it." he was as vain of his fine clothes, when he had money to buy them, as of his literary reputation: "well, let me tell you," he said once, "when my tailor brought home my bloom-coloured coat, he said, 'sir, i have a favour to beg of you. when any body asks you who made your clothes, be pleased to mention john filby, at the harrow, in water-lane.' johnson. 'why, sir, that was because he knew the strange colour would attract crowds to gaze at it, and thus they might hear of him, and see how well he could make a coat even of so absurd a colour.'" once at a dinner-party goldsmith became really angry when "beginning to speak, he found himself overpowered by the loud voice of johnson, who was at the opposite end of the table." when at length he complained, johnson silenced him by calling him impertinent. [illustration: johnson and goldsmith outside filby's shop] but later, at the club, they were quickly reconciled: "'dr goldsmith,' said johnson, 'something passed to-day where you and i dined; i ask your pardon.' goldsmith answered placidly, 'it must be much from you, sir, that i take ill.' and so at once the difference was over, and they were on as easy terms as ever, and goldsmith rattled away as usual." sometimes goldsmith had the last word, as when they were discussing the writing of a good fable, like that of the little fishes: "'the skill,' said goldsmith, 'consists in making them talk like little fishes.' while he indulged himself in this fanciful reverie, he observed johnson shaking his sides, and laughing. upon which he smartly proceeded, 'why, dr johnson, this is not so easy as you seem to think; for if you were to make little fishes talk, they would talk like whales.'" but these victories and defeats in conversation were only incidents in the history of a well-tried friendship. when goldsmith died in at the age of , johnson wrote to his friend, bennet langton: "poor goldsmith is gone.... he died of a fever, exasperated, as i believe, by the fear of distress. he had raised money and squandered it, by every artifice of acquisition and folly of expence. but let not his frailties be remembered; he was a very great man." "goldsmith" he said many years later, "was a man who, whatever he wrote, did it better than any other man could do. he deserved a place in westminster-abbey, and every year he lived, would have deserved it better." westminster abbey holds a memorial, but not the mortal remains, of oliver goldsmith. for the monument which, at the suggestion of sir joshua reynolds, was set up in the abbey two years after goldsmith's death johnson wrote the inscription. "i ... send you," he wrote to sir joshua, "the poor dear doctor's epitaph. read it first yourself; and if you then think it right, shew it to the club. i am, you know, willing to be corrected." the club suggested several alterations, the chief of them being that the epitaph should be in english rather than in latin. "but the question was, who should have the courage to propose them to him [johnson]. at last it was hinted, that there could be no way so good as that of a _round robin_, as the sailors call it, which they make use of when they enter into a conspiracy, so as not to let it be known who puts his name first or last to the paper.... sir joshua agreed to carry it to dr johnson, who received it with much good humour, and desired sir joshua to tell the gentlemen, that he would alter the epitaph in any manner they pleased, as to the sense of it; but _he would never consent to disgrace the walls of westminster abbey with an english inscription_." here we will risk the posthumous wrath of johnson and give the first sentence of the epitaph in english: oliver goldsmith poet, naturalist, historian, who scarce left a single kind of writing untouched and touched none that he did not adorn. footnotes: [ ] see p. . _sir joshua reynolds_ whether we have read boswell or not, we all know something of the work of sir joshua reynolds. from childhood, almost from babyhood, we are made familiar with _the infant samuel_ and _the age of innocence_. but it is as a portrait-painter that he is most famous and in the latter half of the eighteenth century there was hardly a single man or woman of note whose portrait was not painted by him. a few of them are reproduced in this book. born in devonshire, joshua reynolds came to study art in london in . he was then years old and, except for a year or two spent at plymouth and two years' study of the old masters at rome, practically all his work was done, as johnson's was, in london. he was the first president of the royal academy, founded in , and was made a knight in the same year; he was supreme among the artists of his day as was garrick among actors and johnson among men of letters. he did not have the same hard struggle for fame and fortune as johnson. at the age of , it is true, he was painting portraits for fifteen guineas apiece, but his charm of manner, as well as his skill as a painter, brought him great popularity, and in a few years' time he was making an annual income nearly four times as great as the total sum paid to johnson for his _dictionary_. reynolds was first attracted to johnson by one of his earliest prose works--_the life of richard savage_[ ]. "sir joshua reynolds told me, that upon his return from italy, he met with it in devonshire, knowing nothing of its authour, and began to read it while he was standing with his arm leaning against a chimney-piece. it seized his attention so strongly, that, not being able to lay down the book till he had finished, when he attempted to move, he found his arm totally benumbed." shortly after this the two men met for the first time at the house of the miss cotterells: "mr reynolds had ... conceived a very high admiration of johnson's powers of writing. his conversation no less delighted him; and he cultivated his acquaintance with the laudable zeal of one who was ambitious of general improvement.... johnson at once perceived that reynolds had the habit of thinking for himself ... he went home with reynolds, and supped with him." [illustration: sir joshua reynolds] this was the beginning of an "uninterrupted intimacy" to the last hour of johnson's life. johnson took, or pretended to take, no interest in pictures. he is reported to have said once that "he should sit very quietly in a room hung round with the works of the greatest masters, and never feel the slightest disposition to turn them, if their backs were outermost, unless it might be for the sake of telling sir joshua that he _had_ turned them"! at another time "johnson being at dinner at sir joshua's in company with many painters, in the course of conversation richardson's _treatise on painting_ happened to be mentioned. 'ah!' said johnson, 'i remember, when i was at college, i by chance found that book on my stairs. i took it up with me to my chamber, and read it through, and truly i did not think it possible to say so much upon the art.'" but this was merely playful exaggeration. johnson was at any rate interested in the portraits of himself, of which sir joshua painted several. one of them was set up in lichfield: "to sir joshua reynolds, in leicester-fields dear sir, when i came to lichfield, i found that my portrait had been much visited, and much admired. every man has a lurking wish to appear considerable in his native place; and i was pleased with the dignity conferred by such a testimony of your regard. be pleased, therefore, to accept the thanks of, sir, your most obliged and most humble servant, sam. johnson. ashbourn in derbyshire, july , . compliments to miss reynolds." mrs thrale tells another story of one of the portraits: "when reynolds painted his portrait looking into the slit of his pen and holding it almost close to his eye, as was his custom, he felt displeased, and told me he would not be known by posterity for his _defects_ only, let sir joshua do his worst. i said that the picture in the room where we were talking represented sir joshua holding his ear in his hand to catch the sound. 'he may paint himself as deaf, if he chooses,' replied johnson, 'but i will not be _blinking sam_.'" every year reynolds used to deliver an address to the royal academy. these were collected into a book with the title _discourses on painting_ and the author of them freely owned his debt to johnson: "he may be said to have formed my mind, and to have brushed from it a great deal of rubbish." "reynolds" said edmund burke "owed much to the writings and conversation of johnson; and nothing shews more the greatness of sir joshua's parts than his taking advantage of both, and making some application of them to his profession, when johnson neither understood nor desired to understand anything of painting." but johnson could understand his friend's writing: "though he had no taste for painting, he admired much the manner in which sir joshua reynolds treated of his art, in his _discourses to the royal academy_. he observed one day of a passage in them 'i think i might as well have said this myself:' and once when mr langton was sitting by him, he read one of them very eagerly, and expressed himself thus:--'very well, master reynolds; very well, indeed. but it will not be understood.'" sir joshua, as we have seen, was the founder of the literary club and was "very constant" in his attendance. boswell records, too, many a dinner-party where johnson and he enjoyed good fare and good talk together, but most of the talk recorded is, naturally, johnson's: "on tuesday, april , [ ] he and i were engaged to go with sir joshua reynolds to dine with mr cambridge, at his beautiful villa on the banks of the thames, near twickenham. dr johnson's tardiness was such, that sir joshua, who had an appointment at richmond, early in the day, was obliged to go by himself on horseback, leaving his coach to johnson and me. johnson was in such good spirits, that every thing seemed to please him as we drove along. our conversation turned on a variety of subjects. he thought portrait-painting an improper employment for a woman. 'publick practice of any art (he observed,) and staring in men's faces, is very indelicate in a female'.... no sooner had we made our bow to mr cambridge, in his library, than johnson ran eagerly to one side of the room, intent on poring over the backs of the books. sir joshua observed, (aside,) 'he runs to the books, as i do to the pictures: but i have the advantage. i can see much more of the pictures than he can of the books.'" johnson and reynolds often rallied each other on the subject of drinking. reynolds reminded his friend once that he had had eleven cups of tea. "sir," replied johnson "i did not count your glasses of wine, why should you number up my cups of tea?" for long periods of his life, as we have seen, johnson abstained from wine altogether; at such times he was liable to be overbearing, not to say rude, in discussing the social benefits of drinking: "boswell. 'the great difficulty of resisting wine is from benevolence. for instance, a good worthy man asks you to taste his wine, which he has had twenty years in his cellar.' johnson. 'sir, all this notion about benevolence arises from a man's imagining himself to be of more importance to others, than he really is. they don't care a farthing whether he drinks or not.' sir joshua reynolds. 'yes, they do for the time'.... i was at this time myself a water-drinker, upon trial, by johnson's recommendation. johnson. 'boswell is a bolder combatant than sir joshua: he argues for wine without the help of wine; but sir joshua with it.' sir joshua reynolds. 'but to please one's company is a strong motive.' johnson (who, from drinking only water, supposed every body who drank wine to be elevated,) 'i won't argue any more with you, sir. you are too far gone.' sir joshua. 'i should have thought so indeed, sir, had i made such a speech as you have now done.' johnson (drawing himself in, and, i really thought blushing,). 'nay, don't be angry. i did not mean to offend you.'" this is said to be the only known instance of johnson having blushed. few, indeed, would have rebuked him so neatly or so gently as the courteous sir joshua. but all johnson's quarrels with his friends were momentary. in , after reynolds had been ill, we find him writing: "your country has been in danger of losing one of its brightest ornaments, and i of losing one of my oldest and kindest friends: but i hope you will still live long, for the honour of the nation: and that more enjoyment of your elegance, your intelligence, and your benevolence, is still reserved for, dear sir, your most affectionate, &c. sam. johnson." this is a good example of "johnsonese" in letter-writing. nowadays we cannot imagine a letter written in such a style to an intimate friend of years' standing. but johnson meant every word of it. on his death-bed his last requests of sir joshua were simpler: "to forgive him thirty pounds which he had borrowed of him; to read the bible; and never to use his pencil on a sunday." sir joshua readily acquiesced. footnotes: [ ] see p. . _bennet langton and topham beauclerk_ "sir," said dr johnson "i look upon every day to be lost, in which i do not make a new acquaintance," and even boswell did not attempt "to trace his acquaintance with each particular person." a task from which boswell shrank will certainly not be attempted here; but two friends, who were both original members of the literary club and whose names occur very often in boswell's story, must be considered for a moment--bennet langton and topham beauclerk. bennet langton, who had come to london "chiefly with the view of endeavouring to be introduced to its [_the rambler's_] authour," happened to stay in a house visited by mr levet, and mr levet obtained johnson's permission to bring his admirer to visit him. "mr langton was exceedingly surprised when the sage first appeared. he had not received the smallest intimation of his figure, dress, or manner. from perusing his writings, he fancied he should see a decent, well-drest, in short, a remarkably decorous philosopher. instead of which, down from his bedchamber, about noon, came, as newly risen, a huge uncouth figure, with a little dark wig which scarcely covered his head, and his clothes hanging loose about him. but his conversation was so rich, so animated, and so forcible, and his religious and political notions so congenial with those in which langton had been educated, that he conceived for him that veneration and attachment which he ever preserved. johnson was not the less ready to love mr langton, for his being of a very ancient family." langton was "a very tall, meagre, long-visaged man, much resembling a stork standing on one leg"; johnson, with his usual fondness for nicknames, appropriately called him "lanky." he visited him at his home in lincolnshire, at rochester, and at warley camp (where he was stationed with his regiment of militia[ ]) and, though he did not always approve of his domestic arrangements ("his table is rather coarse" he said "and he has his children too much about him"), he kept a deep and almost reverent affection for the pious and scholarly country squire. not long before his death he was discussing langton's character with boswell: "he said 'i know not who will go to heaven if langton does not'.... he however charged mr langton with what he thought want of judgement upon an interesting occasion. 'when i was ill, (said he) i desired he would tell me sincerely in what he thought my life was faulty. sir, he brought me a sheet of paper, on which he had written down several texts of scripture, recommending christian charity. and when i questioned him what occasion i had given for such an animadversion, all that he could say amounted to this,--that i sometimes contradicted people in conversation. now what harm does it do to any man to be contradicted?' boswell. 'i suppose he meant the _manner_ of doing it; roughly,--and harshly.' johnson. 'and who is the worse for that?' boswell. 'it hurts people of weak nerves.' johnson. 'i know no such weak-nerved people.' mr burke, to whom i related this conference, said, 'it is well, if when a man comes to die, he has nothing heavier upon his conscience than having been a little rough in conversation.' johnson, at the time when the paper was presented to him, though at first pleased with the attention of his friend, whom he thanked in an earnest manner, soon exclaimed, in a loud and angry tone, 'what is your drift, sir?' sir joshua reynolds pleasantly observed, that it was a scene for a comedy, to see a penitent get into a violent passion and belabour his confessor." when johnson was stricken down by his last illness, nobody was more attentive to him than mr langton, to whom he tenderly said, "_te teneam moriens deficiente manu_"--"when i die, let it be you that my hand holds in its weakening grasp." topham beauclerk, who was at oxford with langton, was a man of very different type. he had "the character of being loose, both in his principles and practice"; yet "in a short time, the moral, pious johnson, and the gay, dissipated beauclerk, were companions." '"what a coalition! (said garrick, when he heard of this;): i shall have my old friend to bail out of the round-house.' but i can bear testimony that it was a very agreeable association. beauclerk was too polite, and valued learning and wit too much, to offend johnson ... and johnson delighted in the good qualities of beauclerk, and hoped to correct the evil. innumerable were the scenes in which johnson was amused by these young men." here is one of the most entertaining accounts of johnson in their company: "one night when beauclerk and langton had supped at a tavern in london, and sat till about three in the morning, it came into their heads to go and knock up johnson, and see if they could prevail on him to join them in a ramble. they rapped violently at the door of his chambers in the temple, till at last he appeared in his shirt, with his little black wig on the top of his head, instead of a nightcap, and a poker in his hand, imagining, probably, that some ruffians were coming to attack him. when he discovered who they were, and was told their errand, he smiled, and with great good humour agreed to their proposal: 'what, is it you, you dogs! i'll have a frisk with you.' he was soon drest, and they sallied forth together into covent-garden, where the greengrocers and fruiterers were beginning to arrange their hampers, just come in from the country. johnson made some attempts to help them; but the honest gardeners stared so at his figure and manner, and odd interference, that he soon saw his services were not relished. they then repaired to one of the neighbouring taverns, and made a bowl of that liquor called _bishop_, which johnson had always liked; while in joyous contempt of sleep, from which he had been roused, he repeated the festive lines, short, o short then be thy reign, and give us to the world again! they did not stay long, but walked down to the thames, took a boat, and rowed to billingsgate. beauclerk and johnson were so well pleased with their amusement, that they resolved to persevere in dissipation for the rest of the day: but langton deserted them, being engaged to breakfast with some young ladies. johnson scolded him for 'leaving his social friends, to go and sit with a set of wretched _un-idea'd_ girls.' garrick being told of this ramble, said to him smartly, 'i heard of your frolick t'other night. you'll be in the chronicle.' upon which johnson afterwards observed '_he_ durst not do such a thing. his _wife_ would not _let_ him!'" at another time beauclerk was tickled by a sudden display of gallantry on johnson's part: "when madame de boufflers was first in england, (said beauclerk,) she was desirous to see johnson. i accordingly went with her to his chambers in the temple, where she was entertained with his conversation for some time. when our visit was over, she and i left him, and were got into inner temple-lane, when all at once i heard a noise like thunder. this was occasioned by johnson, who it seems, upon a little recollection, had taken it into his head that he ought to have done the honours of his literary residence to a foreign lady of quality, and eager to shew himself a man of gallantry, was hurrying down the stair-case in violent agitation. he overtook us before we reached the temple-gate, and brushing in between me and madame de boufflers, seized her hand, and conducted her to her coach. his dress was a rusty brown morning suit, a pair of old shoes by way of slippers, a little shrivelled wig sticking on the top of his head, and the sleeves of his shirt and the knees of his breeches hanging loose. a considerable crowd of people gathered round, and were not a little struck by this singular appearance." "poor dear beauclerk ..." wrote johnson when he died "his wit and his folly, his acuteness and maliciousness, his merriment and reasoning, are now over. such another will not often be found among mankind." footnotes: [ ] see p. . _mrs thrale_ from what we already know of johnson, we do not picture him at his ease in ladies' drawing-rooms. but he had violent fits of gallantry, as we have just seen, and he told boswell once that he considered himself a "very polite man." he could, indeed, be as happy in a boudoir as in a tavern, provided the dinner had been good and his hostess would allow him to have his talk out. "this year [ ] was distinguished by his being introduced into the family of mr thrale, one of the most eminent brewers in england, and member of parliament for the borough of southwark.... mr thrale had married miss hesther lynch salusbury, of good welsh extraction, a lady of lively talents, improved by education.... mr murphy, who was intimate with mr thrale, having spoken very highly of dr johnson, he was requested to make them acquainted. this being mentioned to johnson, he accepted of an invitation to dinner at thrale's, and was so much pleased with his reception, both by mr and mrs thrale, and they so much pleased with him, that his invitations to their house were more and more frequent, till at last he became one of the family, and an apartment was appropriated to him, both in their house at southwark, and in their villa at streatham. johnson had a very sincere esteem for mr thrale, as a man of excellent principles, a good scholar, well skilled in trade, of a sound understanding, and of manners such as presented the character of a plain independent english squire.... 'i know no man, (said he,) who is more master of his wife and family than thrale. if he but holds up a finger, he is obeyed. it is a great mistake to suppose that she is above him in literary attainments. she is more flippant; but he has ten times her learning: he is a regular scholar; but her learning is that of a school-boy in one of the lower forms.' ... mr thrale was tall, well proportioned, and stately. as for _madam_, or _my mistress_, by which epithets johnson used to mention mrs thrale, she was short, plump, and brisk. she has herself given us a lively view of the idea which johnson had of her person, on her appearing before him in a dark-coloured gown; 'you little creatures should never wear those sort of clothes, however; they are unsuitable in every way. what! have not all insects gay colours?' mr thrale gave his wife a liberal indulgence, both in the choice of their company, and in the mode of entertaining them. he understood and valued johnson, without remission, from their first acquaintance to the day of his death. mrs thrale was enchanted with johnson's conversation, for its own sake, and had also a very allowable vanity in appearing to be honoured with the attention of so celebrated a man. nothing could be more fortunate for johnson than this connection. he had at mr thrale's all the comforts and even luxuries of life; his melancholy was diverted, and his irregular habits lessened by association with an agreeable and well-ordered family. he was treated with the utmost respect and even affection. the vivacity of mrs thrale's literary talk roused him to cheerfulness and exertion, even when they were alone. but this was not often the case; for he found here a constant succession of what gave him the highest enjoyment: the society of the learned, the witty, and the eminent in every way, who were assembled in numerous companies, called forth his wonderful powers, and gratified him with admiration, to which no man could be insensible." [illustration: mrs thrale] such was the beginning of this friendship, as told by boswell, who was not introduced to the thrale family for some years and could not always conceal a little jealousy of this new intimacy of his hero. mrs thrale has left us a book of _anecdotes of dr johnson_, and, though boswell declares that they are not always accurate, we must quote a few passages from them to shew how johnson used to the full the "comforts and even luxuries" of a well-furnished home. for he did not trouble to adapt himself to the household; he made the household adapt itself to him, "often sitting up as long as the fire and candles lasted, and much longer than the patience of the servants subsisted." "dr johnson" says mrs thrale "was always exceeding fond of chemistry; and we made up a sort of laboratory at streatham one summer, and diverted ourselves with drawing essences and colouring liquors. but the danger mr thrale found his friend in one day when i was driven to london, and he had got the children and servants round him to see some experiments performed, put an end to all our entertainment; so well was the master of the house persuaded, that his short sight would have been his destruction in a moment, by bringing him close to a fierce and violent flame. indeed it was a perpetual miracle that he did not set himself on fire reading a-bed, as was his constant custom, when exceedingly unable even to keep clear of mischief with our best help; and accordingly the fore-top of all his wigs were burned by the candle down to the very net-work. mr thrale's valet-de-chambre, for that reason, kept one always in his own hands, with which he met him at the parlour-door, when the bell had called him down to dinner, and as he went up stairs to sleep in the afternoon, the same man constantly followed him with another.... mr johnson's amusements were thus reduced to the pleasures of conversation merely.... conversation was all he required to make him happy; and when he would have tea made at two o'clock in the morning, it was only that there might be a certainty of detaining his companions round him. on that principle it was that he preferred winter to summer, when the heat of the weather gave people an excuse to stroll about, and walk for pleasure in the shade, while he wished to sit still on a chair, and chat day after day, till somebody proposed a drive in the coach; and that was the most delicious moment of his life. 'but the carriage must stop sometime (as he said), and the people would come home at last'; so his pleasure was of short duration. i asked him why he doated on a coach so? and received for answer, 'that in the first place, the company was shut in with him _there_; and could not escape, as out of a room: in the next place he heard all that was said in a carriage, where it was my turn to be deaf': and very impatient was he at my occasional difficulty of hearing. on this account he wished to travel all over the world; for the very act of going forward was delightful to him, and he gave himself no concern about accidents, which he said never happened." johnson travelled a great deal with the thrales, visiting bath, north wales, brighton, and even france in their company[ ]. mr thrale used to persuade him to mount a horse, as well as ride in a coach: "he certainly rode on mr thrale's old hunter with a good firmness, and though he would follow the hounds fifty miles on end sometimes, would never own himself either tired or amused. 'i have now learned (said he) by hunting, to perceive, that it is no diversion at all, nor ever takes a man out of himself for a moment.' ... he was, however, proud to be amongst the sportsmen; and i think no praise ever went so close to his heart, as when mr hamilton called out one day upon brighthelmstone downs, 'why johnson rides as well, for aught i see, as the most illiterate fellow in england.'" having settled in her house as one of the family, johnson did not hesitate to give mrs thrale fatherly advice on such domestic subjects as dress, food, and children. "i advised mrs thrale," he told boswell "who has no card-parties at her house, to give sweetmeats, and such good things, in an evening, as are not commonly given, and she would find company enough come to her; for everybody loves to have things which please the palate put in their way, without trouble or preparation." "johnson's own notions about eating" says mrs thrale "were nothing less than delicate; a leg of pork boiled till it dropped from the bone, a veal-pye with plums and sugar, or the outside cut of a salt buttock of beef, were his favourite dainties." [illustration: mrs thrale's breakfast-table] johnson expressed strong views to mrs thrale about children's books: "'babies do not want (said he) to hear about babies; they like to be told of giants and castles, and of somewhat which can stretch and stimulate their little minds.' when in answer i would urge the numerous editions and quick sale of _tommy prudent_ or _goody two shoes_, 'remember always (said he) that the parents _buy_ the books, and that the children never read them.'" when he suspected her of insincerity, johnson was as blunt with his hostess as with any of his friends at the club: "mrs thrale, while supping very heartily upon larks, laid down her knife and fork, and abruptly exclaimed, 'o, my dear mr johnson, do you know what has happened? the last letters from abroad have brought us an account that our poor cousin's head was taken off by a cannon-ball.' johnson, who was shocked both at the fact, and her light unfeeling manner of mentioning it, replied 'madam, it would give _you_ very little concern if all your relations were spitted like those larks, and drest for presto's[ ] supper.'" at another dinner-party on sunday, april , , when boswell was present, "mrs thrale gave high praise to mr dudley long, (now north). johnson. 'nay, my dear lady, don't talk so. mr long's character is very _short_[ ]. it is nothing. he fills a chair. he is a man of genteel appearance, and that is all. i know nobody who blasts by praise as you do: for whenever there is exaggerated praise, every body is set against a character.... by the same principle, your malice defeats itself; for your censure is too violent. and yet (looking to her with a leering smile) she is the first woman in the world, could she but restrain that wicked tongue of hers;--she would be the only woman, could she but command that little whirligig.'" shortly after this party mr thrale died, having made johnson one of the executors of his will. "i could not but be somewhat diverted" says boswell "by hearing johnson talk in a pompous manner of his new office, and particularly of the concerns of the brewery, which it was at last resolved should be sold.... when the sale ... was going forward, johnson appeared bustling about, with an ink-horn and pen in his button-hole, like an excise-man; and on being asked what he really considered to be the value of the property which was to be disposed of, answered, 'we are not here to sell a parcel of boilers and vats, but the potentiality of growing rich, beyond the dreams of avarice[ ].'" "the death of mr thrale ... made a very material alteration with respect to johnson's reception in that family. the manly authority of the husband no longer curbed the lively exuberance of the lady; and as her vanity had been fully gratified, by having the colossus of literature attached to her for many years, she gradually became less assiduous to please him." johnson, however, continued to spend much of his time with mrs thrale both in london and brighton. but near the end of johnson's life there came the final blow to the friendship: "dr johnson had the mortification of being informed by mrs thrale, that, 'what she supposed he never believed,' was true; namely, that she was actually going to marry signor piozzi, an italian musick-master. he endeavoured to prevent it; but in vain." though he wrote rather bitterly of the marriage to his friends, johnson was generous in his farewell letter to mrs thrale: "what you have done, however i may lament it, i have no pretence to resent, as it has not been injurious to me. i therefore breathe out one sigh more of tenderness, perhaps useless, but at least sincere.... whatever i can contribute to your happiness i am very ready to repay, for that kindness which soothed twenty years of a life radically wretched." footnotes: [ ] see p. . [ ] presto was the thrales' terrier. [ ] here, as boswell says, johnson "condescended" to a pun, a form of wit he generally despised. [ ] the brewery is now the property of messrs barclay and perkins. _fanny burney_ a full account of the twenty years' friendship of johnson and the thrales would fill a book much larger than this; and in such a volume there would often occur the name of fanny burney. dr burney was a musician who had come to london in . he was a member of the club, and became an intimate friend of johnson. frances, who had lived with her father, while her sisters went to school in france, had had a passion for writing since the age of , and was eager to meet the great man. she first saw him in at one of her father's parties, where her sisters were playing a duet. in the midst of their performance dr johnson was announced. "he is very ill-favoured ..." she wrote to a friend "his body is in continual agitation, _see-sawing_ up and down.... he is shockingly near-sighted, and did not, till she held out her hand to him, even know mrs thrale. he _poked his nose_ over the keys of the harpsichord, till the duet was finished, and then my father introduced hetty to him as an old acquaintance, and he kissed her! when she was a little girl, he had made her a present of _the idler_. his attention, however, was not to be diverted five minutes from the books, as we were in the library; he pored over them, almost touching the backs of them with his eye-lashes, as he read their titles. at last, having fixed upon one, he began, without further ceremony, to read, all the time standing at a distance from the company. we were all very much provoked, as we perfectly languished to hear him talk." [illustration: fanny burney] at last dr burney dragged him into the conversation, which happened to be about one of bach's concerts: "the doctor ... good-naturedly put away his book, and said very drolly, 'and pray, sir, _who is bach?_ is he a piper?'" fanny's greatest achievement was her novel, _evelina, or a young lady's entrance into the world_. she planned it when she was fifteen and wrote it some years later. she had "an odd inclination" to see her work in print and, without putting any name to the manuscript or letting her secret be known outside her own family, she offered her story to the booksellers and eventually received twenty pounds for it. when it was published, it took the town by storm. johnson "got it by heart" and, as soon as the author was revealed, introduced fanny to the circle at streatham and made her one of his closest friends. he called her his "dear little burney" and was always making pretty speeches to her: "miss burney, calling on him the next morning, offered to make his tea. he had given her his own large arm-chair which was too heavy for her to move to the table. 'sir' quoth she 'i am in the wrong chair.' 'it is so difficult,' cried he with quickness, 'for anything to be wrong that belongs to you, that it can only be i that am in the wrong chair to keep you from the right one.'" they were guests together of mrs thrale at brighton and one night "to the universal amazement" johnson went to a ball: "he said he had found it so dull being quite alone the preceding evening, that he determined upon going with us; 'for,' said he, 'it cannot be worse than being alone.'" he liked to treat fanny, his "little character-monger," as a fellow-author: "a shilling was now wanted for some purpose or other, and none of them happened to have one; i begged that i might lend one. 'ay, do' said the doctor 'i will borrow of you; authors are like privateers, always fair game for one another.'" in his last illness johnson received fanny into his house as long as he could. but on november , though his faculties were bright, the machine that contained them was "alarmingly giving away": "i saw him growing worse, and offered to go, which, for the first time i ever remember, he did not oppose; but most kindly pressing both my hands, 'be not' he said, in a voice of even tenderness 'be not longer in coming again for my letting you go now.' i assured him i would be the sooner, and was running off, but he called me back in a solemn voice, and in a manner the most energetic, said:--'remember me in your prayers.'" two days before his death, when dr burney saw him, his message was the same: "he was up and very composed. he took his hand very kindly, asked after all his family, and then in particular how fanny did. 'i hope,' he said 'fanny did not take it amiss that i did not see her. i was very bad. tell fanny to pray for me.'" on the th december, when the "ever-honoured, ever-lamented" dr johnson was committed to the earth, fanny could not keep her eyes dry all day. _the tour to the hebrides_ "dr johnson" says boswell at the beginning of his account of this famous tour "had for many years given me hopes that we should go together, and visit the hebrides." they had first discussed the project in a coffee-house in the strand in , johnson being especially eager to see the patriarchal life of the highlands--the clansmen living and working and fighting and dying under the fatherly rule of their chieftain. boswell, knowing something of his friend's love of fleet street and of his prejudice against scotland, "doubted that it would not be possible to prevail on dr johnson to relinquish the felicity of a london life." "to scotland, however, he ventured," and the faithful boswell has left us a careful record of his adventures and his talk on each of the days he spent there. this _journal_ was warmly praised by johnson, who read the manuscript, and was published in the year after his death. here we must be content with extracts, first following the travellers along the east coast of scotland, where johnson found the trees very few: "on saturday the fourteenth of august, , late in the evening, i received a note from him, that he was arrived at boyd's inn, at the head of the canongate, [edinburgh]. i went to him directly. he embraced me cordially; and i exulted in the thought, that i now had him actually in caledonia.... he was to do me the honour to lodge under my roof...." "mr johnson and i walked arm-in-arm up the high-street, to my house in james's court: it was a dusky night: i could not prevent his being assailed by the evening effluvia of edinburgh.... walking the streets ... at night was pretty perilous, and a good deal odoriferous. the peril is much abated, by the care which the magistrates have taken to enforce the city laws against throwing foul water from the windows; but from the structure of the houses in the old town, which consist of many stories, in each of which a different family lives, and there being no covered sewers, the odour still continues. a zealous scotsman would have wished mr johnson to be without one of his five senses upon this occasion. as we marched slowly along, he grumbled in my ear, 'i smell you in the dark.'" [illustration: johnson and boswell arm-in-arm up the high street] [illustration: johnson under boswell's roof] "wednesday, august . on this day we set out from edinburgh.... from an erroneous apprehension of violence, dr johnson had provided a pair of pistols, some gunpowder, and a quantity of bullets: but upon being assured we should run no risk of meeting any robbers, he left his arms and ammunition in an open drawer of which he gave my wife the charge.... when we came to leith, i talked with perhaps too boasting an air, how pretty the frith of forth looked; as indeed, after the prospect from constantinople, of which i have been told, and that from naples, which i have seen, i believe the view of that frith and its environs, from the castlehill of edinburgh, is the finest prospect in europe. 'ay, (said dr johnson,) that is the state of the world. water is the same every where.'" travelling by coach along the coast-road they visited st andrews, dundee, and montrose and on saturday evening reached aberdeen, where johnson was cheered at finding a letter from his "dear mistress," mrs thrale. "monday, august . at one o'clock we waited on the magistrates in the town hall, as they had invited us in order to present dr johnson with the freedom of the town, which provost jopp did with a very good grace. dr johnson was much pleased with this mark of attention, and received it very politely.... it was striking to hear all of them drinking 'dr johnson! dr johnson!' in the town-hall of aberdeen, and then to see him with his burgess-ticket, or diploma, in his hat, which he wore as he walked along the street, according to the usual custom." johnson wrote of the ceremony to mrs thrale: "i was presented with the freedom of the city, not in a gold box, but in good latin. let me pay scotland one just praise; there was no officer gaping for a fee; this could have been said of no city on the english side of the tweed." "tuesday, august . we set out about eight in the morning, and breakfasted at ellon. the landlady said to me 'is not this the great doctor that is going about through the country?' i said, 'yes.' 'ay, (said she) we heard of him. i made an errand into the room on purpose to see him. there's something great in his appearance: it is a pleasure to have such a man in one's house; a man who does so much good. if i had thought of it, i would have shewn him a child of mine, who has had a lump on his throat for some time.' 'but, (said i,) he is not a doctor of physick.' 'is he an oculist?' said the landlord. 'no, (said i,) he is only a very learned man.' landlord. 'they say he is the greatest man in england, except lord mansfield.' dr johnson was highly entertained with this, and i do think he was pleased too." after visiting staines castle, banff, cullen (where johnson was disgusted by the appearance of dried haddocks with the tea at breakfast), elgin (where he examined the cathedral "with a most patient attention" in the rain), fores, nairn, and calder castle, the travellers reached fort george, having an introduction to "mr ferne, master of stores." "saturday, august . mr ferne and major brewse first carried us to wait on sir eyre coote, whose regiment, the th, was lying here, and who then commanded the fort. he asked us to dine with him, which we agreed to do. before dinner we examined the fort. the major explained the fortification to us, and mr ferne gave us an account of the stores. dr johnson talked of the proportions of charcoal and saltpetre in making gunpowder, of granulating it, and of giving it a gloss. he made a very good figure upon these topicks.... at three the drum beat for dinner. i, for a little while, fancied myself a military man, and it pleased me.... we had a dinner of two complete courses, variety of wines, and the regimental band of musick playing in the square, before the windows, after it. i enjoyed this day much. we were quite easy and cheerful. dr johnson said, 'i shall always remember this fort with gratitude.'" "monday, august . we might have taken a chaise to fort augustus, but, had we not hired horses at inverness, we should not have found them afterwards: so we resolved to begin here to ride.... dr johnson rode very well.... when we had advanced a good way by the side of lochness, i perceived a little hut, with an old-looking woman at the door of it. i thought here might be a scene that would amuse dr johnson; so i mentioned it to him. 'let's go in' said he.... it was a wretched little hovel of earth only.... in the middle of the room was a fire of peat, the smoke going out at a hole in the roof. she had a pot upon it, with goat's flesh, boiling.... the woman's name was fraser; so was her husband's. he was a man of eighty. mr fraser of balnain allows him to live in this hut, and keep sixty goats, for taking care of the woods.... they had five children.... this contented family had four stacks of barley, twenty-four sheaves in each. they had a few fowls.... they lived all the spring without meal, upon milk and curds and whey alone. what they get for their goats, kids, and fowls, maintains them during the rest of the year.... she said she was as happy as any woman in scotland. she could hardly speak any english except a few detached words. dr johnson was pleased at seeing for the first time, such a state of human life. she asked for snuff. it is her luxury, and she uses a great deal. we had none; but gave her sixpence a piece. she then brought out her whiskey bottle. i tasted it." "tuesday, august . between twelve and one we set out [from fort augustus], and travelled eleven miles, through a wild country, till we came to a house in glenmorison, called _anoch_, kept by a m'queen.... there were two beds in the room, and a woman's gown was hung on a rope to make a curtain of separation between them.... we had much hesitation, whether to undress, or lie down with our clothes on. i said at last 'i'll plunge in! there will be less harbour for vermin about me, when i am stripped!' dr johnson said, he was like one hesitating whether to go into the cold bath. at last he resolved too.... after we had offered up our private devotions, and had chatted a little from our beds, dr johnson said 'god bless us both, for jesus christ's sake! good night!' i pronounced 'amen.' he fell asleep immediately. i was not so fortunate for a long time. i fancied myself bit by innumerable vermin under the clothes; and that a spider was travelling from the _wainscot_ to my mouth. at last i fell into insensibility." the island of skye was reached on september , and a few days later came an invitation to cross to rasay. "wednesday, september . we got into rasay's _carriage_, which was a good strong open boat made in norway. the wind had now risen pretty high, and was against us; but we had four stout rowers, particularly a macleod, a robust black-haired fellow, half naked, and bareheaded, something between a wild indian and an english tar. dr johnson sat high on the stern, like a magnificent triton. malcolm sung an erse song.... the boatmen and mr m'queen chorused, and all went well.... we sailed along the coast of scalpa, a rugged island, about four miles in length. dr johnson proposed that he and i should buy it, and found a good school, and an episcopal church ... and have a printing-press, where he would print all the erse that could be found. here i was strongly struck with our long projected scheme of visiting the hebrides being realized. i called to him, 'we are contending with seas'; which i think were the words of one of his letters to me. 'not much,' said he; and though the wind made the sea lash considerably upon us, he was not discomposed. after we were out of the shelter of scalpa, and in the sound between it and rasay, which extended about a league, the wind made the sea very rough. i did not like it. johnson. 'this now is the atlantick. if i should tell at a tea table in london, that i have crossed the atlantick in an open boat, how they'd shudder, and what a fool they'd think me to expose myself to such danger?' ... it was past six o'clock when we arrived. some excellent brandy was served round immediately, according to the custom of the highlands, where a dram is generally taken every day.... on a sideboard was placed for us ... a substantial dinner, and a variety of wines. then we had coffee and tea.... soon afterwards a fidler appeared, and a little ball began. rasay himself danced with as much spirit as any man, and malcolm bounded like a roe.... dr johnson was so delighted with this scene that he said, 'i know not how we shall get away.'" "thursday, september . the day was showery; however, rasay and i took a walk, and had some cordial conversation.... his family has possessed this island above four hundred years.... when we returned, dr johnson walked with us to see the old chapel. he was in fine spirits. he said, 'this is truly the patriarchal life: this is what we came to find.'" this reception of dr johnson by macleod of rasay may be taken as typical of the hospitality shewn to him by the highland chiefs, and the story of many another jovial evening, for which there is no space here, must be read in the pages of boswell's _journal_. besides skye and rasay, they visited the islands of coll, mull, and iona; and, on reaching the mainland, returned to edinburgh by way of oban, inverary, dumbarton, glasgow, and auchinleck, the home of boswell's father. but before leaving skye, johnson had a memorable interview: "sunday, september . i was highly pleased to see dr johnson safely arrived at kingsburgh, and received by the hospitable mr macdonald.... there was a comfortable parlour with a good fire, and a dram went round. by and by supper was served, at which there appeared the lady of the house, the celebrated miss flora macdonald. she is a little woman, of a genteel appearance, and uncommonly mild and well-bred. to see dr samuel johnson, the great champion of the english tories, salute miss flora macdonald in the isle of sky, was a striking sight.... miss flora macdonald ... told me, she heard upon the main land ... that mr boswell was coming to sky, and one mr johnson, a young english buck, with him. he was highly entertained with this fancy.... i slept in the same room with dr johnson. each had a neat bed, with tartan curtains, in an upper chamber." "monday, september . the room where we lay was a celebrated one. dr johnson's bed was the very bed in which the grandson of the unfortunate king james the second lay, on one of the nights after the failure of his rash attempt in - .... to see dr samuel johnson lying in that bed, in the isle of sky, in the house of miss flora macdonald, struck me with such a group of ideas as it is not easy for words to describe, as they passed through the mind. he smiled, and said, 'i have had no ambitious thoughts in it.' the room was decorated with a great variety of maps and prints. among others was hogarth's print of wilkes grinning, with a cap of liberty on a pole by him.... at breakfast he said, he would have given a good deal rather than not have lain in that bed. i owned he was the lucky man; and observed, that without doubt it had been contrived between mrs macdonald and him. she seemed to acquiesce; adding, 'you know young _bucks_ are always favourites of the ladies.' he spoke of prince charles being here, and asked mrs macdonald, '_who_ was with him? we were told, madam, in england, there was one, miss flora macdonald with him.' she said 'they were very right'; and ... very obligingly entertained him with a recital of the particulars which she herself knew of that escape.... dr johnson listened to her with placid attention, and said, 'all this should be written down.'" during his stay in skye dr johnson had a mind to become a chieftain himself: "thursday, september . there is a beautiful little island in the loch of dunvegan, called _isa_. m'leod said, he would give it to dr johnson, on condition of his residing on it three months in the year; nay one month. dr johnson was highly amused with the fancy. i have seen him please himself with little things, even with mere ideas like the present. he talked a great deal of this island;--how he would build a house there,--how he would fortify it,--how he would have cannon,--how he would plant,--how he would sally out, and _take_ the isle of muck;--and then he laughed with uncommon glee, and could hardly leave off." on leaving skye the travellers were driven into col by a heavy sea. boswell gives a full account of it and does not try to hide the fact that he was badly frightened. but he endeavoured to compose his mind and sought for something to distract his terror: "as i saw them all busy doing something, i asked col, with much earnestness, what i could do. he, with a happy readiness, put into my hand a rope, which was fixed to the top of one of the masts, and told me to hold it till he bade me pull. if i had considered the matter, i might have seen that this could not be of the least service; but his object was to keep me out of the way of those who were busy working the vessel, and at the same time to divert my fear, by employing me, and making me think that i was of use. thus did i stand firm to my post, while the wind and rain beat upon me, always expecting a call to pull my rope.... at last they spied the harbour of lochiern, and col cried, 'thank god, we are safe!'" johnson lay on one of the beds and "having got free from sickness, was satisfied." this is how he described the voyage to mrs thrale: "after having been detained by storms many days at sky, we left it, as we thought, with a fair wind; but a violent gust, which bos had a great mind to call a tempest, forced us into col." boswell was delighted by his friend's sympathy with highland life: "sunday, october . dr johnson here [at inchkenneth] shewed so much of the spirit of a highlander, that he won sir allan's heart: indeed he has shewn it during the whole of our tour. one night, in col, he strutted about the room with a broad sword and target, and made a formidable appearance; and, another night, i took the liberty to put a large blue bonnet on his head." but to be mistaken for a scotchman was past a joke: "thursday, october . after a very tedious ride ... we arrived, between seven and eight o'clock, at _moy_, the seat of the laird of _lochbuy_.... lochbuy proved to be only a bluff, comely, noisy old gentleman, proud of his hereditary consequence, and a very hearty and hospitable landlord. lady lochbuy was sister to sir allan m'lean, but much older.... being told that dr johnson did not hear well, lochbuy bawled out to him, 'are you of the johnstons of glencro, or of ardnamurchan?' dr johnson gave him a significant look, but made no answer; and i told lochbuy that he was not johns_ton_, but john_son_, and that he was an englishman." [illustration: boswell holding firm to his post] [illustration: whiggism terribly buffeted] both boswell and johnson found it comfortable to be on the mainland again: "saturday, october . we got at night to inverary, where we found an excellent inn. even here, dr johnson would not change his wet clothes. the prospect of good accommodation cheered us much. we supped well; and after supper, dr johnson, whom i had not seen taste any fermented liquor during all our travels, called for a gill of whiskey. 'come, (said he,) let me know what it is that makes a scotchman happy!' he drank it all but a drop, which i begged leave to pour into my glass, that i might say we had drunk whisky together. i proposed mrs thrale should be our toast. he would not have _her_ drunk in whisky, but rather 'some insular lady'; so we drank one of the ladies whom we had lately left." "thursday, october . on our arrival at the saracen's head inn, at glasgow ... dr johnson ... enjoyed in imagination the comforts which we could now command, and seemed to be in high glee. i remember, he put a leg up on each side of the grate, and said, with a mock solemnity, by way of soliloquy, but loud enough for me to hear it 'here am i, an english man, sitting by a _coal_ fire.'" after being entertained by the university professors at glasgow, the travellers arrived in a few days' time at auchinleck. boswell was very nervous about the meeting between his father and dr johnson. lord auchinleck was a whig and presbyterian and commonly referred to johnson as 'a _jacobite fellow_.' johnson promised to avoid awkward subjects of conversation, and all went well for a time; but politics cropped up at length and, to boswell's distress, "whiggism and presbyterianism, toryism and episcopacy, were terribly buffeted." "monday, november . notwithstanding the altercation that had passed, my father, who had the dignified courtesy of an old baron, was very civil to dr johnson, and politely attended him to the post-chaise, which was to convey us to edinburgh. thus they parted. they are now in another, and a higher, state of existence: and as they were both worthy christian men, i trust they have met in happiness. but i must observe, in justice to my friend's political principles, and my own, that they have met in a place where there is no room for _whiggism_...." "tuesday, november . ... we arrived this night at edinburgh, after an absence of eighty-three days. for five weeks together, of the tempestuous season, there had been no account received of us. i cannot express how happy i was on finding myself again at home." johnson stayed at edinburgh for a fortnight and then returned to london "without any incommodity, danger, or weariness." the expedition to the hebrides, he said, was the most pleasant journey he ever made. _lesser journeys_ two years after his tour to the hebrides, johnson went to france with mr and mrs thrale. it was in the days before, though not long before, the revolution; and johnson, who saw louis xvi and his queen, noted various little points about them--how the king fed himself with his left hand and how the queen, wearing a brown habit, rode 'aside' on a light grey horse. he saw the sights of paris and sometimes felt lonely in doing so: "the sight of palaces, and other great buildings, leaves no very distinct images, unless to those who talk of them. as i entered [the palais bourbon], my wife was in my mind: she would have been pleased. having now nobody to please, i am little pleased." besides paris, which he found "not so fertile of novelty" as the hebrides, he visited rouen, fontainebleau, versailles, chantilly, and compiègne, and admired the cathedrals of noyon and cambrai. people interested him more than places and he summed up a few of his impressions of the french to boswell: "the great in france live very magnificently, but the rest very miserably. there is no happy middle state as in england.... the french are an indelicate people; they will spit upon any place. at madame ----'s, a literary lady of rank, the footman took the sugar in his fingers, and threw it into my coffee. i was going to put it aside; but hearing it was made on purpose for me, i e'en tasted tom's fingers[ ]. the same lady would needs make tea _à l'angloise_. the spout of the tea-pot did not pour freely; she had the footman blow into it. france is worse than scotland in everything but climate." this was johnson's only foreign tour. though he often talked of expeditions to other countries of europe, he was generally content with a post-chaise on an english road and a friend's house or a tavern at the end of it. on march , he met boswell at the somerset coffee-house in the strand, where they were taken up by the oxford coach. in his old college his thoughts wandered back to his early days: "we walked with dr adams into the master's garden, and into the common room. johnson. (after a reverie of meditation,) 'ay! here i used to play at draughts with phil. jones and fluyder. jones loved beer, and did not get very forward in the church. fluyder turned out a scoundrel, a whig....' boswell. 'was he a scoundrel, sir, in any other way than that of being a political scoundrel? did he cheat at draughts?' johnson. 'sir, we never played for _money_.'" "next morning ... we set out in a post-chaise to pursue our ramble. it was a delightful day, and we rode through blenheim park.... i observed to him, while in the midst of the noble scene around us 'you and i, sir, have, i think, seen together the extremes of what can be seen in britain:--the wild rough island of mull, and blenheim park.' we dined at an excellent inn at chapel-house, where he expatiated on the felicity of england in its taverns and inns.... 'there is no private house, (said he,) in which people can enjoy themselves so well, as at a capital tavern.... the master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own. whereas, at a tavern, there is a general freedom from anxiety. you are sure you are welcome: and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. no servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward in proportion as they please. no, sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.'" "on friday, march , having set out early from henley, where we had lain the preceding night, we arrived at birmingham about nine o'clock and, after breakfast, went to call on his old schoolfellow mr hector. a very stupid maid, who opened the door, told us, that 'her master was gone out....' he said to her, 'my name is johnson; tell him i called. will you remember the name?' she answered with rustick simplicity, in the warwickshire pronunciation, 'i don't understand you, sir.'--'blockhead, (said he,) i'll write.' i never heard the word _blockhead_ applied to a woman before, though i do not see why it should not, when there is evident occasion for it. he, however, made another attempt to make her understand him, and roared loud in her ear, '_johnson_,' and then she catched the sound." however, they met mr hector in the street and boswell rejoiced to see the two old friends together. indeed, he would have liked to prolong their stay in birmingham in order to get more information about johnson's early life, but johnson himself was "impatient to reach his native city." "we drove on ... in the dark, and were long pensive and silent. when we came within the focus of the lichfield lamps, 'now (said he,) we are getting out of a state of death.' we put up at the three crowns, not one of the great inns, but a good old fashioned one, which was ... the very next house to that in which johnson was born.... we had a comfortable supper, and got into high spirits. i felt all my toryism glow in this old capital of staffordshire.... i indulged in libations of ale." at lichfield boswell met many old friends of johnson--mrs lucy porter, his step-daughter, mr peter garrick, brother of the actor, mr seward, and others. johnson "expatiated in praise" of the city and its inhabitants, but it appeared to boswell that there was "very little business going forward." "'surely, sir, (said i,) you are an idle set of people.' 'sir, (said johnson,) we are a city of philosophers, we work with our heads, and make the boobies of birmingham work for us with their hands.'" from lichfield they set out for ashbourne, in derbyshire, the home of another old schoolfellow of johnson's--the rev. dr taylor. "there came for us an equipage properly suited to a well-beneficed clergyman;--dr taylor's large roomy post-chaise, drawn by four stout plump horses, and driven by two steady jolly postillions, which conveyed us to ashbourne.... dr taylor ... was a diligent justice of the peace, and presided over the town of ashbourne.... his size, and figure, and countenance, and manner, were that of a hearty english 'squire, with the parson super-induced: and i took particular notice of his upper servant, mr peters, a decent grave man, in purple clothes, and a large white wig, like the butler or _major domo_ of a bishop." boswell wondered at the intimacy between johnson and taylor. for taylor was a whig and chiefly occupied with country pursuits. his talk was of bullocks and his habits "not sufficiently clerical" to please johnson. but johnson, who wrote a good many sermons for him, had hopes of being his heir; and with the memory of his long years of poverty fresh in his mind, he could not neglect such a hope. quite apart from this, johnson never lost his affection for the friends of his youth and it was to dr taylor that he first turned after the death of his wife[ ]. but neither life-long friendship nor hope of a legacy hindered him from "roaring down" his host. thus, on another visit to ashbourne: "dr taylor's nose happening to bleed, he said, it was because he had omitted to have himself blooded four days after a quarter of a year's interval. dr johnson, who was a great dabbler in physick, disapproved much of periodical bleeding.... 'i do not like to take an emetick, (said taylor,) for fear of breaking some small vessels.'--'poh! (said johnson,) if you have so many things that will break, you had better break your neck at once, and there's an end on't. you will break no small vessels:' (blowing with high derision.)" even on the subject of bull-dogs he had the last word: "taylor, who praised everything of his own to excess, ... expatiated on the excellence of his bull-dog, which, he told us, was 'perfectly well shaped.' johnson, after examining the animal attentively, thus repressed the vain-glory of our host:--'no, sir, he is _not_ well shaped; for there is not the quick transition from the thickness of the fore-part, to the _tenuity_--the thin part--behind,--which a bull-dog ought to have.' ... taylor said, a small bull-dog was as good as a large one. johnson. 'no, sir; for, in proportion to his size, he has strength: and your argument would prove, that a good bull-dog may be as small as a mouse.'" johnson found life rather dull at ashbourne and often had a day's outing with boswell: "after breakfast dr johnson and i set out in dr taylor's chaise to go to derby. the day was fine, and we resolved to go by keddlestone, the seat of lord scarsdale.... i was struck with the magnificence of the building; and the extensive park, with the finest verdure, covered with deer, and cattle, and sheep, delighted me.... 'one should think (said i) that the proprietor of all this _must_ be happy.'--'nay, sir, (said johnson,) all this excludes but one evil--poverty.'" lord scarsdale himself appeared, to do "the honours of the house." "in his lordship's dressing-room lay johnson's small _dictionary_[ ]: he shewed it to me, with some eagerness, saying 'look'ye! _quae terra nostri non plena laboris._' he observed, also, goldsmith's _animated nature_; and said, 'here's our friend! the poor doctor would have been happy to hear of this.' in our way, johnson strongly expressed his love of driving fast in a post-chaise. 'if (said he) i had no duties, and no reference to futurity, i would spend my life in driving briskly in a post-chaise with a pretty woman; but she should be one who could understand me, and would add something to the conversation.'" in the year following this visit to ashbourne, , there was fear of invasion. our army was fully occupied in the war with america and it was thought that france and spain might seize the opportunity to make an attack upon england. the militia was called out and bennet langton was stationed with the lincolns at warley camp. he invited johnson to visit him there, and johnson staid about a week, shewing, as he had done at fort george, a keen interest in military matters: "he sate, with a patient degree of attention, to observe the proceedings of a regimental court-martial, that happened to be called, in the time of his stay with us; and one night, as late as eleven o'clock, he accompanied the major of the regiment in going what are styled the _rounds_, where he might observe the forms of visiting the guards, for the seeing that they and their sentries are ready in their duty.... on one occasion, when the regiment were going through their exercise, he went quite close to the men at one of the extremities of it, and watched all their practices attentively; and, when he came away, his remark was, 'the men indeed do load their muskets and fire with wonderful celerity.'" at the age of he slept in a tent, and enjoyed himself both at the regimental mess and at dinner with the general. "a camp" he wrote to mrs thrale "however familiarly we may speak of it, is one of the great scenes of human life. war and peace divide the business of the world. camps are the habitations of those who conquer kingdoms, or defend them." finally, we must not omit a special journey to uttoxeter. johnson had a long memory, even for his own failings: "once," said he "i refused to attend my father to uttoxeter-market. pride was the source of that refusal, and the remembrance of it was painful.... i desired to atone for this fault; i went to uttoxeter in very bad weather, and stood for a considerable time bareheaded in the rain, on the spot where my father's stall used to stand. in contrition i stood, and i hope the penance was expiatory." footnotes: [ ] it is curious that johnson, who was not exactly delicate in his manner of eating (see p. ), should be greatly upset by this. but he complained of the same thing of a waiter in edinburgh. [ ] see p. . [ ] johnson produced an abridged edition in . _the true-born englishman_ for all his love of a post-chaise, johnson was happiest in london. "you yourself, sir," said boswell when they were in the hebrides "have never seen, till now, any thing but your native island." "johnson. 'but, sir, by seeing london, i have seen as much of life as the world can shew.' boswell. 'you have not seen pekin.' johnson. 'what is pekin? ten thousand londoners would _drive_ all the people of pekin: they would drive them like deer.'" the town, he said, was his element. he rejoiced in the "animated appearance" of fleet street and "the full tide of life" at charing cross, not so much because he loved shops and pavements better than fields and hedgerows, as because london held his friends, his books, and his amusements. boswell once suggested that he himself might grow tired of the city if he lived continuously in it: "johnson. 'why, sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave london. no, sir, when a man is tired of london, he is tired of life; for there is in london all that life can afford'"; and to the very end he found that "such conversation as london affords, could be found nowhere else." so, in his last illness in november , he came to london to die. a month later he was buried in westminster abbey; edmund burke and bennet langton helped to bear the pall and dr taylor read the service. his monument, which reynolds did not wish to see in the overcrowded abbey, was erected in st paul's cathedral, and it is fitting that the nation's memorial of dr johnson should be within sound of fleet street. if london meant life to johnson, it meant the life of england. his prejudice against foreigners was of the old-fashioned kind: "like the ancient greeks and romans, he allowed himself to look upon all nations but his own as barbarians.... if he was particularly prejudiced against the scots, it was because they were more in his way; because he thought their success in england rather exceeded the due proportion of their real merit.... he was indeed, if i may be allowed the phrase, much of a _john bull_; much of a blunt _true born englishman_." [illustration: fleet street in johnson's day] his hatred of the whigs was life-long and violent--the first whig, he said, was the devil; but whatever may be thought of his political opinions, there can be no doubt of his patriotism. what did he mean by a patriot[ ]? here is his definition: "a patriot is he whose publick conduct is regulated by one single motive, the love of his country; who, as an agent in parliament, has for himself neither hope nor fear, neither kindness nor resentment, but refers everything to the common interest. a true patriot is no lavish promiser; he undertakes not to shorten parliament, to repeal laws.... much less does he make a vague and indefinite promise of obeying the mandates of his constituents.... he considers himself as deputed to promote the publick good, and to preserve his constituents, with the rest of his countrymen, not only from being hurt by others, but from hurting themselves." johnson had no patience with a popular cry for liberty, such as was raised by the crowds that rallied round john wilkes. "they make a rout" he said "about _universal_ liberty, without considering that all that is to be valued, or indeed can be enjoyed by individuals, is _private_ liberty." sir adam fergusson, a scotch member of parliament, once suggested that luxury corrupts a people and destroys the spirit of liberty: "johnson. 'sir, that is all visionary. i would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. it is of no moment to the happiness of an individual.' ... sir adam. 'but, sir, in the british constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as to preserve a balance against the crown.' johnson. 'sir, i perceive you are a vile whig. why all this childish jealousy of the power of the crown? the crown has not power enough. when i say that all governments are alike, i consider that in no government power can be abused long. mankind will not bear it. if a sovereign oppresses his people to a great degree, they will rise and cut off his head.'" it was his contempt for _political_ liberty that made him vehemently support the losing side in the american war. he regarded the colonists as rebels and _taxation no tyranny_ was the title of a pamphlet he wrote in support of the king's cause. but what specially enraged him was that the cry of "liberty" should be raised by slave-owners. "how is it" he asked "that we hear the loudest _yelps_ for liberty among the drivers of negroes?" nearly fifty years before the abolition of slavery was first discussed in parliament, johnson had maintained "the natural right of the negroes to liberty and independence." "an individual" he said "may, indeed, forfeit his liberty by a crime; but he cannot by that crime forfeit the liberty of his children." johnson's loyalty to the crown was strengthened by an interview he had with george iii in . it was in the library at the queen's house[ ]: "his majesty enquired if he was then writing any thing.... johnson said, he thought he had already done his part as a writer. 'i should have thought so too, (said the king,) if you had not written so well.'--johnson observed to me, upon this, that 'no man could have paid a handsomer compliment; and it was fit for a king to pay. it was decisive.' when asked by another friend, at sir joshua reynolds's, whether he made any reply to this high compliment, he answered, 'no, sir. when the king had said it, it was to be so. it was not for me to bandy civilities with my sovereign.'" had he so chosen, johnson might have entered parliament. to the friends of the king, it was urged, he would be found a lamb, to his enemies a lion. but johnson knew that he was better fitted to be a public oracle in fleet street than to catch the speaker's eye at westminster. a true-born englishman, he extolled the english virtues of honesty and courage. of the 'english common soldier' he wrote: "our nation may boast, beyond any other people in the world, of a kind of epidemick bravery, diffused equally through all its ranks. we can shew a peasantry of heroes, and fill our armies with clowns, whose courage may vie with that of their general." "sir," he said at another time "you know courage is reckoned the greatest of all virtues; because, unless a man has that virtue, he has no security for preserving any other." he himself had no small measure of it. true, he had an "aweful dread of death, or rather 'of something after death,'" but "he feared nothing else, not even what might occasion death": "one day ... when two large dogs were fighting, he went up to them, and beat them till they separated; and at another time, when told of the danger there was that a gun might burst if charged with many balls, he put in six or seven, and fired it off against a wall.... he told me himself that one night he was attacked in the street by four men, to whom he would not yield, but kept them all at bay, till the watch came up, and carried both him and them to the round-house. in the play-house at lichfield, as mr garrick informed me, johnson having for a moment quitted a chair which was placed for him between the side-scenes, a gentleman took possession of it, and when johnson on his return civilly demanded his seat, rudely refused to give it up; upon which johnson laid hold of it, and tossed him and the chair into the pit." certainly boswell may be allowed the phrase "much of a _john bull_." honesty of heart, truth in the inward parts, was with johnson the one thing needful. to him no fraud could be innocent; the security of human society depended on truth and was weakened by a man whose words were at variance with his practice. "every man" he said (and here john bull spoke again) "has a right to utter what he thinks truth and every other man has a right to knock him down for it." to stretch a point in _talking_, in the use of a conventional phrase, did not matter. common politeness, or the course of argument might demand it. did he not himself often 'talk for victory'? what he insisted on was that men should not deceive themselves and others by _thinking_ foolishly. "clear your _mind_" he said "of cant." "such," to quote boswell for the last time, "was samuel johnson." though he was the foremost man of letters of his generation, it is not for his scholarship or his writings, but rather for his pluck and his patriotism, his humour and his oddities, his blunt common-sense and his large humanity, and, above all, for the expression of these qualities in his talk, that he is best loved and remembered. for to appreciate johnson's talk one need not be literary; it is enough to be english. footnotes: [ ] when he made the often-quoted remark 'patriotism is the last refuge of a scoundrel' johnson was referring to 'patriots' only in the party sense, to those who made patriotism a "cloak for self-interest." [ ] buckingham house, which stood on the site of the present buckingham palace. bibliographical note boswell's _journal of a tour to the hebrides_ was published in and reached a sixth edition in . many of the later editors of boswell have included the _tour_ in their editions of the _life_. it is published as a separate volume in dent's _temple classics_, with a few notes by arnold glover ( ) and is contained in a volume of dent's _everyman's library_. the _life_ appeared in two quarto volumes in and went through ten editions before the much-criticised edition of j. w. croker in . the sixth edition, , edited by malone, is the safest of the early editions. it is not disfigured by the liberties which croker took with boswell's text. later editions are almost innumerable. napier's edition of included some valuable new material, but the incomparable edition for students is that of george birkbeck hill, published by the oxford university press in . it is in six volumes, of which four contain the _life_, one the _tour_, and one the monumental index to which every student of johnson must pay his debt of gratitude. among modern editions the following may be noted: arnold glover: volumes (text of ), annotated. dent. . roger ingpen: volumes, illustrated. pitman. . among the cheapest and handiest modern reprints are: the _oxford_ edition. (two volumes; or, on india paper, in one volume.) the _globe_ edition. (one volume; double columns of print. macmillan.) the _everyman_ edition. (two volumes. dent.) the contemporary authorities for johnson's life, other than boswell, are sir john hawkins's _life_, mrs piozzi's _anecdotes_, fanny burney's _diary_, and anecdotes by many others. most of these were collected by the late dr birkbeck hill in his two volumes of _johnsonian miscellanies_ (oxford, ); two volumes of johnson's _letters_ were also published by the same editor in . of modern criticism on johnson the following may be recommended: lord macaulay: _boswell's life of johnson_. . article on johnson in the _encyclopaedia britannica_, . thomas carlyle: _boswell's life of johnson_. . sir leslie stephen: _samuel johnson_. (_english men of letters_ series. macmillan, .) g. b. hill: _dr johnson, his friends and his critics_. ( .) sir walter raleigh: _six essays on johnson_. (oxford, .) lieut.-col. f. grant: _life and writings of samuel johnson_, with a bibliography by j. p. anderson. (_great writers_ series. walter scott co.) johnson's _collected works_, of which there were many editions, e.g. the oxford edition (_works_, vols, _debates_, vols, ), are easily obtainable second-hand, as are also _the lives of the poets_ and _the rambler_. _the lives of the poets_ and _rasselas_ were edited with notes by dr birkbeck hill for the oxford university press. johnson's _poems_, together with the poetry of goldsmith, gray, and collins, are published in a handy form, with introduction and notes by colonel t. methuen ward, in the _muses' library_ series (routledge, ). _a bibliography of samuel johnson_, by w. p. courtney, was published by the oxford university press in . cambridge: printed by j. b. peace, m.a., at the university press * * * * * transcriber's note: obvious punctuation errors were corrected. in the list of illustrations, one is entitled: "boswell standing firm to his post" but the caption under the illustration in the text is "boswell holding firm to his post". no correction has been made to the text. p the first letter to mr francis barber, the original was signed off "your's affectionately" this has been replaced with "yours affectionately" [illustration: samuel johnson, ll.d. from a photograph of the painting by john opie, r.a., in the national portrait gallery] macaulay's life of samuel johnson _with a selection from his essay on johnson_ edited with an introduction and notes by charles lane hanson instructor in english, mechanic arts high school, boston editor of carlyle's "essay on burns," "representative poems of burns," etc. [illustration] ginn and company boston · new york · chicago · london atlanta · dallas · columbus · san francisco copyright, , by charles lane hanson all rights reserved · the athenæum press ginn and company · proprietors · boston · u.s.a. prefatory note the editor explains the difference between macaulay's _life of johnson_ and macaulay's _essay on johnson_ in the introduction, iv, p. xxviii, and gives his reason for printing only a portion of the _essay_. contents introduction: page i. an introduction to macaulay ix ii. macaulay and his literary contemporaries xxiii iii. the study of macaulay xxv iv. macaulay on johnson xxviii v. reference books xxix vi. chronology of macaulay's life and works xxxii vii. chronology of johnson's life and works xxxiv life of samuel johnson selection from macaulay's essay on croker's edition of boswell's life of johnson notes introduction i. an introduction to macaulay ( - ) before thomas babington macaulay was big enough to hold a large volume he used to lie on the rug by the open fire, with his book on the floor and a piece of bread and butter in his hand. apparently the three-year-old boy was as fond of reading as of eating, and even at this time he showed that he was no mere bookworm by sharing with the maid what he had learned from "a volume as big as himself." he never tired of telling the stories that he read, and as he easily remembered the words of the book he rapidly acquired a somewhat astonishing vocabulary for a boy of his years. one afternoon when the little fellow, then aged four, was visiting, a servant spilled some hot coffee on his legs. the hostess, who was very sympathetic, soon afterward asked how he was feeling. he looked up in her face and replied, "thank you, madam, the agony is abated." it was at this same period of his infancy that he had a little plot of ground of his own, marked out by a row of oyster shells, which a maid one day threw away as rubbish. "he went straight to the drawing-room, where his mother was entertaining some visitors, walked into the circle, and said, very solemnly, 'cursed be sally; for it is written, cursed is he that removeth his neighbor's landmark.'"[ ] as these incidents indicate, the youngster was precocious. when he was seven, his mother writes, he wrote a compendium of universal history, and "really contrived to give a tolerably connected view of the leading events from the creation to the present time, filling about a quire of paper." yet, fond as he was of reading, he was "as playful as a kitten." although he made wonderful progress in all branches of his education, he had to be driven to school. again and again his entreaty to be allowed to stay at home met his mother's "no, tom, if it rains cats and dogs, you shall go." the boy thought he was too busy with his literary activities to waste time in school; but the father and mother looked upon his productions merely as schoolboy amusements. he was to be treated like other boys, and no suspicion was to come to him, if they could help it, that he was superior to other children. the wise parents had set themselves no easy task in their determination to pay little attention to the unusual gifts of this lad. one afternoon, when a child, he went with his father to make a social call, and found on the table the _lay of the last minstrel_, which he had never before seen. while the others talked he quietly read, and on reaching home recited as many stanzas as his mother had the patience or the strength to hear. clearly a boy who had read incessantly from the time he was three years old, who committed to memory as rapidly as most boys read, and who was eager to declaim poetry by the hour, or to tell interminable stories of his own, would attract somebody's attention. fortunately for all concerned the lady who was particularly interested in him, and who had him at her house for weeks at a time, mrs. hannah more, encouraged without spoiling him, and rewarded him by buying books to increase his library. when he was six or eight years old, she gave him a small sum with which to lay "a corner-stone" for his library, and a year or two afterward she wrote that he was entitled to another book: "what say you to a little good prose? johnson's 'hebrides,' or walton's 'lives,' unless you would like a neat edition of 'cowper's poems,' or 'paradise lost,' for your own eating?" whether he began at once to eat milton's great epic we are not told, but at a later period he said that "if by some miracle of vandalism all copies of 'paradise lost' and 'the pilgrim's progress' were destroyed off the face of the earth, he would undertake to reproduce them both from recollection."[ ] prodigy though he was, thomas was more than a reader and reciter of books. much as he cared for them he cared more for his home,--that simple, thrifty, comfortable home,--and his three brothers and five sisters. his father, zachary, did a large business as an african merchant. this earnest, precise, austere man was so anxious for his eldest son to have a thoroughly trained mind that he expected a deliberation and a maturity of judgment that are not natural to an impetuous lad. the good-natured, open-hearted boy reasoned with him and pleaded with him, and whether successful or not in persuading his father, loved him just the same. the mother, with all her love and ambition for him, took the utmost pains to teach him to do thoroughly whatever he undertook, in order that he might attain the perfect development of character that comes alone from the most vigorous training. his sister, lady trevelyan, writes: "his unruffled sweetness of temper, his unfailing flow of spirits, his amusing talk, all made his presence so delightful that his wishes and his tastes were our law. he hated strangers and his notion of perfect happiness was to see us all working round him while he read aloud a novel, and then to walk all together on the common, or, if it rained, to have a frightfully noisy game of hide-and-seek." it was a habit in the family to read aloud every evening from such writers as shakspere, clarendon, miss edgeworth, scott, and crabbe; and, as a standing dish, the _quarterly_ and the _edinburgh review_. from this home, in which he was wisely loved, thomas was sent to a private school near cambridge. then his troubles began. the twelve-year-old boy longed for the one attraction that would tempt him from his books--home life--and months ahead he counted the days which must pass before he could again see the home "which absence renders still dearer." in august, , he urged his mother for permission to go home on his birthday, october : "if your approbation of my request depends upon my advancing in study, i will work like a cart-horse. if you should refuse it, you will deprive me of the most pleasing illusion which i ever experienced in my life."[ ] but the father shook his head and the boy toiled on with his greek and latin. he wrote of learning the greek grammar by heart, he tried his hand at latin verses, and he read what he pleased, with a preference for prose fiction and poetry. when eighteen years old (in october, ), macaulay entered trinity college, cambridge. but for mathematics he would have been made happy. he writes to his mother: "oh for words to express my abomination of that science, if a name sacred to the useful and embellishing arts may be applied to the perception and recollection of certain properties in numbers and figures!... 'discipline' of the mind! say rather starvation, confinement, torture, annihilation!"[ ] there were prizes, but macaulay was not a prize winner. he was an excellent declaimer and an excellent debater, and undoubtedly might have won more honors had he been willing to work hard on the subjects prescribed, whether he liked them or not. but he was eager to avoid the sciences, and he was not content to be a mere struggler for honors. he was sensible enough to enjoy the companionships the place afforded. he knew something of the value of choosing comrades after his own heart, who were thoroughly genuine and sincere, natural and manly. even if, as mr. morison says, the result of his college course was that "those faculties which were naturally strong were made stronger, and those which were naturally weak received little or no exercise," he wisely spent much time with a remarkable group of young men, among whom charles austin was king. of austin, john stuart mill says, "the impression he gave was that of boundless strength, together with talents which, combined with such apparent force of will and character, seemed capable of dominating the world." and trevelyan adds, "he certainly was the only man who ever succeeded in dominating macaulay." austin it was who turned zachary macaulay's eldest son from a tory into a whig. the boy had always been interested in the political discussions held in his father's house, a center of consultation for suburban members of parliament, and had learned to look at public affairs with no thought of ambition or jealous self-seeking. this sort of training, supplemented by his discussions at college, where he soon became a vigorous politician, developed a patriotic, disinterested man. in the midst of his inexpressible delight in the freedom the college course gave him to indulge his fondness for literature and to spend his days and nights walking and talking with his mates, he continued to remember his family with affection, and did not neglect to write home. on march , , he wrote his mother: "i am sure that it is well worth while being sick to be nursed by a mother. there is nothing which i remember with such pleasure as the time when you nursed me at aspenden. the other night, when i lay on my sofa very ill and hypochondriac, i was told that you were come! how well i remember with what an ecstasy of joy i saw that face approaching me, in the middle of people that did not care if i died that night, except for the trouble of burying me! the sound of your voice, the touch of your hand, are present to me now, and will be, i trust in god, to my last hour."[ ] on the first of october, , two years after he had received the degree of bachelor of arts, he wrote his father that he was that morning elected fellow, and that the position would make him almost independent financially for the next seven years. in , too, he made his first address before a public assembly,--an antislavery address that probably gave zachary macaulay the happiest half hour of his life, that called out a "whirlwind of cheers" from the audience, and enthusiastic commendation from the _edinburgh review_. the next year macaulay was asked to write for that famous periodical, then at the height of its political, social, and literary power. he contributed the essay on milton and "like lord byron he awoke one morning and found himself famous." the compliment for which he cared most--"the only commendation of his literary talent which even in the innermost domestic circle he was ever known to repeat"--came from jeffrey, the editor, when he acknowledged the receipt of the manuscript: "the more i think, the less i can conceive where you picked up that style." when macaulay entered college, his father considered himself worth at least a hundred thousand pounds; but soon afterward he lost his money and the eldest son found the other children looking to him for guidance and support. as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he drew freely on his income from the fellowship and his occasional contributions to the _edinburgh_. he was the sunshine of the home, and apparently only those who knew him there got the best of his brilliancy and wit. in he was called to the bar, but he was becoming more and more interested in public affairs and longed to be in parliament. in lord lansdowne, who had been much impressed by macaulay's articles on mill, and by his high moral and private character, gave him the opportunity to represent calne--"on the eve of the most momentous conflict," says trevelyan, "that ever was fought out by speech and vote within the walls of a senate-house."[ ] when the reform bill was introduced, the opposition laughed contemptuously at the impossibility of disfranchising, wholly or in part, a hundred and ten boroughs for the sake of securing a fair representation of the united kingdom in the house of commons. two days later macaulay made the first of his reform speeches, and "when he sat down, the speaker sent for him, and told him that, in all his prolonged experience, he had never seen the house in such a state of excitement." that not only unsettled the house of commons but put an end to the question whether he should give his time to law or to politics. during the next three years he devoted himself to parliament. entering with his whole soul into the thickest of the fight for reform, he made a speech on the second reading of the reform bill which no less a critic than jeffrey said put him "clearly at the head of the great speakers, if not the debaters, of the house."[ ] naturally the social advantages of the position appealed to macaulay. he appreciated the freedom, the good fellowship, the spirit of equality among the members. "for the space of three seasons he dined out almost nightly"; and for a man who at a time when his parliamentary fame was highest, was so reduced that he sold the gold medals he had won at cambridge,--though "he was never for a moment in debt,"--it was sometimes convenient to be a lion. yet this "sitting up in the house of commons till three o'clock five days in the week, and getting an indigestion at great dinners the remaining two," would not have been the first choice of a man whose greatest joy "in the midst of all this praise" was to think of the pleasure which his success would give to his father and his sisters. in june, , the bill which macaulay had supported so zealously and so eloquently at every stage of the fight, finally became an act. as a reward the great orator was appointed a commissioner of the board of control, which represented the crown in its relations to the east indian directors. he held this commissionership only eighteen months, however, for as a means of reducing expenses the whig government suppressed it. it is to macaulay's everlasting credit that he voted for this economic measure at a time when his trinity fellowship was about to expire, and when the removal from office left him penniless. impatient to choose the first reformed parliament, the great cities were looking about that autumn for worthy representatives. the whigs of leeds got macaulay's promise to stand for that town as soon as it became a parliamentary borough. his attitude toward the electors whose votes meant bread to him was as refreshing as it was striking. his frank opinions they should have at all times, but pledges never. they should choose their representative cautiously and then confide in him liberally. such independence was not relished in many quarters, but macaulay answered the remonstrants with even more vigor: "it is not necessary to my happiness that i should sit in parliament; but it is necessary to my happiness that i should possess, in parliament or out of parliament, the consciousness of having done what is right."[ ] his appointment as secretary to the board of control was a help financially, and his return to parliament by leeds proved to be of very great assistance. matters were going smoothly when the government introduced their slavery bill. to zachary macaulay, who had always been a zealous abolitionist, the measure was not satisfactory. to please him the son opposed it. in order that he might be free to criticise the bill, simply as a member of parliament, he resigned his position in the cabinet, although both he and his father thought this course of action would be fatal to his career. a son whose devotion to his father leads him to such lengths is not always so promptly rewarded as macaulay was in this instance, for the resignation was not accepted, the bill was amended, and the ministers were as friendly as ever. up to this time he had earned little money by his writing. after giving his days to india and his nights to improving the condition of the treasury, he could get only snatches of time for turning off the essays which we read with so much care. with a family depending on him he now realized fully the need not of riches but of a competence. he could live by his pen or by office; but he could not think seriously of writing to "relieve the emptiness of the pocket" rather than "the fullness of the mind," and if he must earn this competence through office, the sooner he was through with the business the better. so it was largely for the sake of his aged father, his younger brother, and his dearly loved sisters, that he accepted an appointment as legal adviser to the supreme council of india. he and his sister hannah sailed for india in february, . he tells us that he read during the whole voyage: the _iliad_ and _odyssey_, virgil, horace, cæsar's _commentaries_, bacon's _de augmentis_, dante, petrarch, ariosto, tasso, _don quixote_, gibbon's _rome_, mill's _india_, all the seventy volumes of voltaire, sismondi's _history of france_, and the seven thick folios of the _biographia britannica_. on his arrival he plunged into the new work. not satisfied with the immense amount already assigned him, he saw two large opportunities to do more by serving on two committees. as president of the committee of public instruction he substituted for oriental learning the introduction and promotion of european literature and science among the natives; as president of the law commission he took the initiative in framing the famous penal code, the value of which must be judged from the facts that "hardly any questions have arisen upon it which have had to be determined by the courts, and that few and slight amendments have had to be made by the legislature."[ ] he worked patiently, yet he longed to be back in england, and it was a great relief when in , his work done, his competence saved, he was able to return. he was too late to see his father again, for zachary macaulay had died while the son was on the way home. in the fall he went to italy with his mind full of associations and traditions. his biographer says that every line of good poetry which the fame or the beauty of this country had inspired "rose almost involuntarily to his lips." on this occasion he gave some of those geographical and topographical touches to the _lays of ancient rome_ "which set his spirited stanzas ringing in the ear of a traveller in rome at every turn." much as he enjoyed italy, he soon began to long for his regular work, and the following february found him in london again. in march he was unanimously elected to _the_ club, and he was making the most of his leisure for books when he felt it his duty to enter parliament for edinburgh. "office was never, within my memory, so little attractive," he writes, "and therefore, i fear, i cannot, as a man of spirit, flinch, if it is offered to me." without any show of reluctance he was made secretary at war and given a seat in the cabinet. to this position the man who had begun life "without rank, fortune, or private interest" had risen before his fortieth birthday. on march , , he wrote his intimate friend, mr. ellis, a good account of his life at that time.[ ] "i have got through my estimates [for army expenses] with flying colors; made a long speech of figures and details without hesitation or mistake of any sort; stood catechising on all sorts of questions; and got six millions of public money in the course of an hour or two. i rather like the sort of work, and i have some aptitude for it. i find business pretty nearly enough to occupy all my time; and if i have a few minutes to myself, i spend them with my sister and niece; so that, except while i am dressing and undressing, i get no reading at all. i do not know but that it is as well for me to live thus for a time. i became too mere a bookworm in india, and on my voyage home. exercise, they say, assists digestion; and it may be that some months of hard official and parliamentary work may make my studies more nourishing." but the queen's advisers did not have the confidence of the country, there was a change of government, and macaulay lost his office. how the loss affected him we may gather from a part of his letter to mr. napier, at that time the editor of the _edinburgh review_. "i can truly say that i have not, for many years, been so happy as i am at present.... i am free. i am independent. i am in parliament, as honorably seated as man can be. my family is comfortably off. i have leisure for literature, yet i am not reduced to the necessity of writing for money. if i had to choose a lot from all that there are in human life, i am not sure that i should prefer any to that which has fallen to me. i am sincerely and thoroughly contented."[ ] carlyle says that a biography should answer two questions: ( ) what and how produced was the effect of society on the man; and ( ) what and how produced was his effect on society.[ ] to the careful reader of trevelyan's _life_ the words just quoted from macaulay will give a pretty fair notion of what, up to this time, macaulay had got from society. the other question, what he gave to society, is perhaps best answered in the account of the remaining years of his life. in parliament, in society, and in literary and political circles throughout the country there was the feeling that he had won the respect and good will of all, and that he was to do something still greater. what this greater thing was to be was the question that confronted macaulay for the next few years. certainly it was not the publishing of his _lays_, although one hundred thousand copies of them were sold by the year . nor was it the collecting and reprinting of his _essays_, although they have given hundreds of thousands of minds a taste for letters and a desire for knowledge. one could hardly call it the delivery of those vehement and effective parliamentary speeches with which he held his audience spellbound, even if one of them did secure the passing of the copyright bill in in practically its present form. but while attending to these other matters, macaulay had on his mind an undertaking which was destined to satisfy, as far as he carried it toward completion, the hopes of his most enthusiastic admirers. in he had written to napier, "i shall not be satisfied unless i produce something which shall for a few days supersede the last fashionable novel on the tables of young ladies."[ ] in order that he might give all his attention to this one project he soon stopped writing for the _edinburgh review_; he denied himself no little of the pleasure he had been getting from society; he gave up more parliamentary honors than most others could ever hope to win. at last, in , he published the first volumes of a work that met with a heartier welcome than the english-speaking world had given to any historical work since the coming of gibbon's _decline and fall of the roman empire_. that these volumes of _the history of england_ were the result of a very different kind of effort from that with which macaulay had dashed off the essays, may be inferred from a sentence of thackeray's, which trevelyan says is no exaggeration: "he reads twenty books to write a sentence; he travels a hundred miles to make a line of description."[ ] after all critics may say for or against the _history_, it remains to note that macaulay did what he undertook: he wrote a history that is more readable than most novels. in other ways we can trace his "effect on society." he was chosen lord rector of the university of glasgow in . prince albert tried, but in vain, to induce him to become professor of modern history at cambridge in . he was asked, but declined--urging the plea that he was not a debater--to join the cabinet in . the same year the people of edinburgh, ashamed of their failure to reëlect him five years before, chose him to represent them in parliament. meantime he had been well and happy. in his journal for october , , he wrote: "my birthday. i am fifty. well, i have had a happy life. i do not know that anybody, whom i have seen close, has had a happier. some things i regret; but, on the whole, who is better off? i have not children of my own, it is true; but i have children whom i love as if they were my own, and who, i believe, love me. i wish that the next ten years may be as happy as the last ten. but i rather wish it than hope it."[ ] macaulay may have surmised that the good health which had been such an important factor in keeping him happy would not last much longer. at any rate his last election to the house of commons was followed by an illness from which he never fully recovered, but through which, for seven years, "he maintained his industry, his courage, his patience, and his benevolence." occasionally he treated the house to a "torrent of words," but he understood that he must husband his powers for work on books. to protect himself from a bookseller who advertised an edition of his speeches, he made and published a selection of his own, many of which he had to write from memory. then he continued his work on the _history_. some of the time he had to "be resolute and work doggedly," as johnson said. "he almost gave up letter-writing; he quite gave up society; and at last he had not leisure even for his diary."[ ] yet of this immense labor he said, "it is the business and the pleasure of my life." as a result of this steady toil the writer secured an enviable influence abroad. he was made a member of several foreign academies, and translations have turned the _history_ into a dozen tongues. at home, among the numerous honors, he was presented with the degree of doctor of civil law at oxford, and made a peer--baron of rothley. naturally before receiving this last honor he had withdrawn from parliament, and from to the end of his life he enjoyed a retired home, with a fine garden. he had plenty of time to cash the famous check for twenty thousand pounds which the first edition of the _history_ brought him, and to invest and spend it as he pleased. on his fifty-seventh birthday he wrote in his diary, "what is much more important to my happiness than wealth, titles, and even fame, those whom i love are well and happy, and very kind and affectionate to me." one of the chief sources of his happiness, one to which he was particularly indebted these last days, was his love of reading. he could no longer read fourteen books of the _odyssey_ at a stretch while out for a walk, but in the quiet of his library he enjoyed the companionship of the author he happened to be reading as perhaps few men could. he who could command any society in london failed to find any that he preferred, at breakfast or at dinner, to the company of boswell; and it seems natural and fitting that he should be found on that last december day, in , "in the library, seated in his easy-chair, and dressed as usual, with his book on the table beside him." equally fitting is it that in poet's corner, westminster abbey, the resting place of johnson, garrick, goldsmith, and addison, there should lie a stone with this inscription: thomas babington, lord macaulay, born at rothley temple, leicestershire, october th, . died at holly lodge, campden hill. december th, . "his body is buried in peace, but his name liveth for evermore." for he left behind him a great and honorable name, and every action of his life was "as clear and transparent as one of his own sentences." his biography reveals the dutiful son, the affectionate brother, the true friend, the honorable politician, the practical legislator, the eloquent speaker, the brilliant author. it shows unmistakably that greater than all his works was the man. ii. macaulay and his literary contemporaries the very year in which the last volumes of johnson's _lives of the poets_ were published, , burns began to do his best work. in burns died. in , two years before macaulay was born, wordsworth and coleridge published the first of the _lyrical ballads_, which included _the rime of the ancient mariner_. like burns, yet in a way entirely his own, wordsworth was the poet of nature and of man, and this little volume was the beginning of much spontaneous poetry which in the following years proved a refreshing change from the polished couplets which had been in fashion. instead of pope and addison and johnson, in whose time literary men cared more for books than for social reforms, more for manner than for matter, came scott, byron, shelley, coleridge, landor, and southey with their irrepressible originality. before macaulay's day defoe, richardson, fielding, and smollett had each contributed something to the novel. during his lifetime came practically all of the best work of miss austen, scott, cooper, lytton, disraeli, hawthorne, the brontës, dickens, thackeray, mrs. gaskell, trollope, and kingsley. george eliot's _adam bede_ appeared the year he died. other prominent prose writers were hallam, grote, milman, froude, mill, ruskin, and carlyle. _in memoriam_ and mrs. browning's _sonnets from the portuguese_ were published in , and browning's _the ring and the book_ came out in . as to macaulay's relations with his literary contemporaries, it must be understood that he gave practically his whole attention to the times of which he read and wrote, and to the men who made those times interesting. scientists were making important discoveries day by day, but his concern was not with them, even at a time when darwin was writing his _origin of species_. it was not clear to him that philosophical speculations like carlyle's might do much to better the condition of humanity. he finished wordsworth's _prelude_ only to be disgusted with "the old flimsy philosophy about the effect of scenery on the mind" and "the endless wildernesses of dull, flat, prosaic twaddle." although he read an infinite variety of contemporary literature he said he would not attempt to dissect works of imagination. in , when napier wished him to review lockhart's _life of scott_ for the _edinburgh review_, he replied that he enjoyed many of scott's performances as keenly as anybody, but that many could criticise them far better. he added: "surely it would be desirable that some person who knew sir walter, who had at least seen him and spoken with him, should be charged with this article. many people are living who had a most intimate acquaintance with him. i know no more of him than i know of dryden or addison, and not a tenth part so much as i know of swift, cowper, or johnson."[ ] he turned instinctively to the old books, the books that he had read again and again: to homer, aristophanes, horace, herodotus, addison, swift, fielding. there was at least one writer of fiction in his time to whom he was always loyal. on one occasion when he had been reading dickens and pliny and miss austen at the same time, he declared that _northanger abbey_, although "the work of a girl," was in his opinion "worth all dickens and pliny together." what he did for humanity he did as a practical man of affairs, at home alike in the cabinet and in popular assemblies. while carlyle in the midst of his gloomy life was toiling heroically to banish shams and to get at the true, the real, macaulay, who was reasonably satisfied with the past and the present, and hopeful of the future, was sifting from his vast treasury of information about the past what he believed to be significant in history and important in literature. he had none of the feeling that ruskin had, that it was his duty to turn reformer, but what he did toward educating his readers he did in the way he most enjoyed. iii. the study of macaulay once for all it must be remembered that macaulay had no intention of being studied as a text-book, and we must deal with him fairly. first we should read the _life_ through at a sitting without consulting a note, just as we read an article in the _atlantic monthly_ or the _encyclopædia britannica_. we should rush on with the "torrent of words" to the end to see what it is all about, and to get an impression of the article as a whole. as johnson says: "let him that is yet unacquainted with the powers of shakespeare, and who desires to feel the highest pleasure that the drama can give, read every play from the first scene to the last with utter negligence of all his commentators. when his fancy is once on the wing, let it not stoop at correction or explanation. when his attention is strongly engaged let it disdain alike to turn aside to the name of theobald and of pope. let him read on through brightness and obscurity, through integrity and corruption; let him preserve his comprehension of the dialogue and his interest in the fable. and when the pleasures of novelty have ceased let him attempt exactness and read the commentators." macaulay attracts attention not only to what he says but also to the way in which he says it. in examining his style it will be a good plan to ask ourselves whether the writer ever wanders from the subject, or whether every part of the _life_ contributes something to the one subject under discussion. naturally we find ourselves making topics, such for example as johnson's youth, his father, at oxford. a list of these topics gives us a bird's-eye view of the whole field and enables us to examine the composition more critically. has the writer arranged the topics in the natural order? does he give too much space to the treatment of any one topic? might any of them be omitted to advantage? having examined the larger divisions, we may profitably turn our attention to the parts which constitute these divisions, the paragraphs. first let us see whether he goes easily from one paragraph to the next. for example, is the first sentence of paragraph a good connecting link with what precedes? in looking through the _life_ for these links, we should make up our minds whether they are studied or spontaneous. then let us test the unity of the paragraphs. can each paragraph be summed up in a single sentence? does a combination of the opening and the closing sentence ever serve the purpose? does one or the other of these ever answer of itself? has every sentence some bearing on the main thought, or might some sentences be omitted as well as not? it will be equally profitable, at this point, to test the coherence of half a dozen paragraphs. does each sentence lead up naturally to the next? can the order of sentences be changed to advantage? when the sentences in a paragraph hold together firmly, we should point out the cause; when coherence is lacking, we should try to discover to what its absence is due. then comes the question of emphasis. let us see whether we can find two or three paragraphs in which macaulay succeeds particularly well in emphasizing the main point. if we find three, let us see whether he accomplishes his purpose in the same way each time. for those of us who are still willing to learn something from macaulay's style, it is worth while to study the sentences. selecting two or three of the most interesting paragraphs, we may make the three tests: ( ) is each sentence a unit? ( ) is the relation of every word to the adjoining words absolutely clear? ( ) does the construction emphasize what is important? then there is the vocabulary. who does not enjoy the feeling that he is enlarging his vocabulary? an easy way of doing it is to read two or three times such a paragraph as the nineteenth, and then, with the book closed, to write as much of it as possible from memory. as it is not merely a large vocabulary that we wish, but a well chosen one, we shall do well to compare our version with macaulay's and see in how many cases his word is better than ours. have we, for example, equaled "winning affability," or "london mud," or "inhospitable door"? is his word more effective than ours because it is more specific, or what is the reason? before taking farewell of the _life of johnson_ there is another use to which we may put the topics. we may use them as tests of our knowledge of the essay. if we can write or talk fully and definitely on each of the more important ones, we are sure to carry much food for thought away with us. the value of a review of this sort is evident from a glance at the following topics: literary life in london in johnson's time, johnson's love affair, the dictionary, the turning point in johnson's life, the rambler, rasselas, the idler, his shakspere, the club [his conversation], boswell, the thrales, his fleet street establishment, the lives of the poets. as we read macaulay we should be particularly careful to think for ourselves. mr. gladstone has said: "wherever and whenever read, he will be read with fascination, with delight, with wonder. and with copious instruction too; but also with copious reserve, with questioning scrutiny, with liberty to reject, and with much exercise of that liberty."[ ] this means that we must follow him up, find out where he got his information, see whether in his enthusiasm he has exaggerated. then, even if the critics do assure us that he is not one of the deep thinkers, one of the very great writers, we may go on committing his _lays_ to heart, studying his _essays_, and admiring those wonderfully faithful pictures in his _history_. more than all else, as the years go by, we are likely to find ourselves indebted to him for arousing interest, for leading us to further reading. iv. macaulay on johnson among the "hasty and imperfect articles" which macaulay wrote for the _edinburgh review_ was one on croker's edition of boswell's life of johnson. it appeared in and gave the writer a welcome opportunity to show the inaccuracy and unreliability of croker, one of his political opponents. nearly one half of his space he gave to criticising the editor, and that part it seems wise to omit in this edition; for we care more about boswell and johnson. twenty-five years later, in , when macaulay had ceased to write for reviews, but sent an occasional article to the _encyclopædia britannica_, he wrote what is generally called the _life of samuel johnson_. the publisher of the encyclopædia writes that it was entirely to macaulay's friendly feeling that he was "indebted for those literary gems, which could not have been purchased with money"; that "he made it a stipulation of his contributing that remuneration should not be so much as mentioned." the other articles referred to are those on atterbury, bunyan, goldsmith, and william pitt. one writer calls them "perfect models of artistic condensation." it is interesting to compare the later work with the earlier: to see whether there is any evidence of improvement in macaulay's use of english, and whether he gives us a better notion of boswell and johnson. v. reference books the book to which we naturally turn first to see whether macaulay knows his subject is boswell's _life of johnson_; not the edition in six volumes by dr. george b. hill, scholarly as it is, but some such edition as mr. mowbray morris's, published by the macmillan company in one volume. when we read boswell the first time, to get his conception of his hero, we do not care to loiter on every page for notes, interesting and instructive as they may be after the first rapid reading. this single volume is so cheap that no one need hesitate to buy it; then he may mark it up as much as he pleases and enjoy his own book. the conscientious student need not feel obliged to read every word of every episode, but may feel perfectly free to skip whatever does not appeal to him, perfectly certain that before he has turned ten pages he will stumble on something worth while. the book which will do more than all others to illuminate the life and character of macaulay is _the life and letters of lord macaulay_, written by his nephew, g. otto trevelyan. harper & brothers, the publishers, have bound the two volumes in one which is so inexpensive that every school library may easily afford it. some critics think this _life_ ranks with boswell's _johnson_. it certainly is one of the most readable biographies in the english language. other useful books are numerous, but among them all carlyle's essay in reply to macaulay's _essay on boswell's life of johnson_ stands out first. boswell arblay, madame d'. memoirs of dr. burney. (contains "the most vivid account of boswell's manner when in company with dr. johnson.") boswelliana: the commonplace book of james boswell. london, . carlyle, thomas. boswell's life of johnson. fitzgerald, percy, m.a., f.s.a. life of james boswell with four portraits. vols. london: . leask, w. keith. james boswell. (famous scots series.) edinburgh: . stephen, leslie. james boswell (in the dictionary of national biography). johnson birrell, a. dr. johnson (in obiter dicta, second series). boswell, james. life of johnson including boswell's journal of a tour to the hebrides, etc., edited by george birkbeck hill, d.c.l., pembroke college, oxford, in six volumes. oxford, . ("boswell's famous book has never before been annotated with equal enthusiasm, learning, and industry."--austin dobson.) the life of samuel johnson, ll.d., including a journal of his tour to the hebrides, by james boswell, esq. new edition, with numerous additions and notes, by the right hon. john wilson croker, m.p., to which are added ... engraved illustrations. in ten volumes. london: . the life of johnson edited by alexander napier, m.a., london, , also has several engravings. dr. henry morley's edition of boswell's work is illustrated with portraits by sir joshua reynolds. george routledge & sons, london, . brougham, henry, lord, f.r.s. lives of men of letters of the time of george iii. london: . gardiner, s. r. a student's history of england. gosse, edmund w. history of eighteenth century literature. green, j. r. a short history of the english people. hill, george birkbeck, d.c.l. dr. johnson, his friends and his critics. london: . hoste, j. w. johnson and his circle. london: jarrold & sons. johnson's chief lives of the poets, being those of milton, dryden, swift, addison, pope, gray, and macaulay's life of johnson, with a preface by matthew arnold, to which are appended macaulay's and carlyle's essays on boswell's life of johnson. henry holt & company, new york, . johnson club papers by various hands. london: t. fisher unwin, . johnsoniana: anecdotes of the late samuel johnson, ll.d., by mrs. piozzi, bishop percy, and others, together with the diary of dr. campbell and extracts from that of madame d' arblay, newly collected and edited by robina napier. (engravings and various autographs.) george bell and sons, london, . johnson, samuel. the idler. in the series of british essayists. lives of the poets. a new edition, with notes and introduction by arthur waugh, in six volumes. scribner's sons, . london. in hales's longer english poems. the rambler. in the series of british essayists. rasselas. leach, shewell & sanborn, or henry holt & co. the vanity of human wishes. in hales's longer english poems and syle's from milton to tennyson. the works of samuel johnson. in nine volumes. oxford. lecky, w. e. h. history of england in the eighteenth century. piozzi, mrs. anecdotes of the late samuel johnson during the last twenty years of his life. . same, in the cheap national series. the cassell company. letters to and from the late samuel johnson, ll.d. . stephen, leslie. history of english thought in the eighteenth century. dr. johnson's writings (in hours in a library, vol. ii). samuel johnson. dictionary of national biography. samuel johnson. english men of letters series. harper & brothers. (cloth or paper.) macaulay bagehot, walter. thomas babington macaulay. (in literary studies.) brewer, e. cobham, ll.d. dictionary of phrase and fable. the historic note-book. clark, j. scott. thomas babington macaulay. (in a study of english prose writers.) gladstone, w. e. gleanings of past years. harrison, frederic. lord macaulay. (in early victorian literature.) macaulay, thomas b. critical and historical essays, contributed to the _edinburgh review_. trevelyan edition, in two volumes. longmans, green, and co. the history of england from the accession of james ii. works. complete edition, by lady trevelyan, in eight volumes. longmans, green, and co. minto, william. manual of english prose literature. morison, j. cotter. macaulay. (in english men of letters, edited by john morley.) pattison, mark. macaulay. (in the encyclopædia britannica.) stephen, leslie. macaulay. (in the dictionary of national biography; in hours in a library.) trevelyan, g. otto. the life and letters of lord macaulay, in two volumes; also two volumes in one. london besant, walter. london in the eighteenth century. hare, augustus john. walks in london. hutton, laurence. literary landmarks of london. wheatley, henry b. london, past and present. vi. chronology of macaulay's life and works . born. . sent to boarding school. . entered trinity college, cambridge. . graduated as b.a. . degree of m.a. elected fellow. first public speech. . first contribution to the _edinburgh review_: essay on milton. . called to the bar. . commissioner of bankruptcy. . member of parliament for calne. first speech in parliament. . speeches on the reform bill. essay on boswell's life of johnson. . member of parliament for leeds. essay on horace walpole. . essay on william pitt, earl of chatham. sailed for india as legal adviser to the supreme council. . penal code finished. . his father died. returned to england. visited italy. . elected to the club. member of parliament for edinburgh. secretary at war. . essay on lord clive. . reëlected to parliament for edinburgh. essay on warren hastings. . lays of ancient rome published. . essay on madame d'arblay. essay on the life and writings of addison. . essay on the earl of chatham. (the second essay on this subject, and his last contribution to the _edinburgh review_.) . paymaster-general of the army. defeated in edinburgh election. . first two volumes of his history of england. . lord rector of the university of glasgow. . again elected to parliament from edinburgh, although not a candidate. failing health. . life of john bunyan. . third and fourth volumes of his history of england. (the fifth volume appeared after his death.) . resigned his seat in parliament. life of samuel johnson. life of oliver goldsmith. . became baron macaulay of rothley. . life of william pitt. died december . vii. chronology of johnson's life and works . born september . . entered pembroke college, oxford. turned pope's messiah into latin verse. . left oxford. his father died. . married. opened an academy at edial. . went to london. . his first important work: london. began to write for _the gentleman's magazine_. . life of savage. . prospectus of the dictionary. . the vanity of human wishes. irene. - . the rambler. . death of his wife. . letter to chesterfield. the dictionary appeared. - . the idler. . death of his mother. rasselas. . pensioned. . met boswell for the first time. . the club founded. . made doctor of laws by trinity college, dublin. introduced to the thrales. his edition of shakspere published. . spent three months in scotland. . journey to the western islands of scotland published. taxation no tyranny. received the degree of doctor in civil law from oxford. . first four volumes of his lives of the poets. . the remaining six volumes of the lives. . died december . life of samuel johnson (_december, _) . samuel johnson, one of the most eminent english writers of the eighteenth century, was the son of michael johnson, who was, at the beginning of that century, a magistrate of lichfield, and a bookseller of great note in the midland counties. michael's abilities and attainments seem to have been considerable. he was so well acquainted with the contents of the volumes which he exposed to sale, that the country rectors of staffordshire and worcestershire thought him an oracle on points of learning. between him and the clergy, indeed, there was a strong religious and political sympathy. he was a zealous churchman, and, though he had qualified himself for municipal office by taking the oaths to the sovereigns in possession, was to the last a jacobite in heart. at his house, a house which is still pointed out to every traveller who visits lichfield, samuel was born on the th of september . in the child, the physical, intellectual, and moral peculiarities which afterwards distinguished the man were plainly discernible; great muscular strength accompanied by much awkwardness and many infirmities; great quickness of parts, with a morbid propensity to sloth and procrastination; a kind and generous heart, with a gloomy and irritable temper. he had inherited from his ancestors a scrofulous taint, which it was beyond the power of medicine to remove. his parents were weak enough to believe that the royal touch was a specific for this malady. in his third year he was taken up to london, inspected by the court surgeon, prayed over by the court chaplains, and stroked and presented with a piece of gold by queen anne. one of his earliest recollections was that of a stately lady in a diamond stomacher and a long black hood. her hand was applied in vain. the boy's features, which were originally noble and not irregular, were distorted by his malady. his cheeks were deeply scarred. he lost for a time the sight of one eye; and he saw but very imperfectly with the other. but the force of his mind overcame every impediment. indolent as he was, he acquired knowledge with such ease and rapidity that at every school to which he was sent he was soon the best scholar. from sixteen to eighteen he resided at home, and was left to his own devices. he learned much at this time, though his studies were without guidance and without plan. he ransacked his father's shelves, dipped into a multitude of books, read what was interesting, and passed over what was dull. an ordinary lad would have acquired little or no useful knowledge in such a way: but much that was dull to ordinary lads was interesting to samuel. he read little greek; for his proficiency in that language was not such that he could take much pleasure in the masters of attic poetry and eloquence. but he had left school a good latinist; and he soon acquired, in the large and miscellaneous library of which he now had the command, an extensive knowledge of latin literature. that augustan delicacy of taste which is the boast of the great public schools of england he never possessed. but he was early familiar with some classical writers who were quite unknown to the best scholars in the sixth form at eton. he was peculiarly attracted by the works of the great restorers of learning. once, while searching for some apples, he found a huge folio volume of petrarch's works. the name excited his curiosity; and he eagerly devoured hundreds of pages. indeed, the diction and versification of his own latin compositions show that he had paid at least as much attention to modern copies from the antique as to the original models. . while he was thus irregularly educating himself, his family was sinking into hopeless poverty. old michael johnson was much better qualified to pore upon books, and to talk about them, than to trade in them. his business declined; his debts increased; it was with difficulty that the daily expenses of his household were defrayed. it was out of his power to support his son at either university; but a wealthy neighbour offered assistance; and, in reliance on promises which proved to be of very little value, samuel was entered at pembroke college, oxford. when the young scholar presented himself to the rulers of that society, they were amazed not more by his ungainly figure and eccentric manners than by the quantity of extensive and curious information which he had picked up during many months of desultory but not unprofitable study. on the first day of his residence he surprised his teachers by quoting macrobius; and one of the most learned among them declared that he had never known a freshman of equal attainments. . at oxford, johnson resided during about three years. he was poor, even to raggedness; and his appearance excited a mirth and a pity which were equally intolerable to his haughty spirit. he was driven from the quadrangle of christ church by the sneering looks which the members of that aristocratical society cast at the holes in his shoes. some charitable person placed a new pair at his door; but he spurned them away in a fury. distress made him, not servile, but reckless and ungovernable. no opulent gentleman commoner, panting for one-and-twenty, could have treated the academical authorities with more gross disrespect. the needy scholar was generally to be seen under the gate of pembroke, a gate now adorned with his effigy, haranguing a circle of lads, over whom, in spite of his tattered gown and dirty linen, his wit and audacity gave him an undisputed ascendency. in every mutiny against the discipline of the college he was the ringleader. much was pardoned, however, to a youth so highly distinguished by abilities and acquirements. he had early made himself known by turning pope's messiah into latin verse. the style and rhythm, indeed, were not exactly virgilian; but the translation found many admirers, and was read with pleasure by pope himself. . the time drew near at which johnson would, in the ordinary course of things, have become a bachelor of arts: but he was at the end of his resources. those promises of support on which he had relied had not been kept. his family could do nothing for him. his debts to oxford tradesmen were small indeed, yet larger than he could pay. in the autumn of , he was under the necessity of quitting the university without a degree. in the following winter his father died. the old man left but a pittance; and of that pittance almost the whole was appropriated to the support of his widow. the property to which samuel succeeded amounted to no more than twenty pounds. . his life, during the thirty years which followed, was one hard struggle with poverty. the misery of that struggle needed no aggravation, but was aggravated by the sufferings of an unsound body and an unsound mind. before the young man left the university, his hereditary malady had broken forth in a singularly cruel form. he had become an incurable hypochondriac. he said long after that he had been mad all his life, or at least not perfectly sane; and, in truth, eccentricities less strange than his have often been thought grounds sufficient for absolving felons, and for setting aside wills. his grimaces, his gestures, his mutterings, sometimes diverted and sometimes terrified people who did not know him. at a dinner table he would, in a fit of absence, stoop down and twitch off a lady's shoe. he would amaze a drawing-room by suddenly ejaculating a clause of the lord's prayer. he would conceive an unintelligible aversion to a particular alley, and perform a great circuit rather than see the hateful place. he would set his heart on touching every post in the streets through which he walked. if by any chance he missed a post, he would go back a hundred yards and repair the omission. under the influence of his disease, his senses became morbidly torpid, and his imagination morbidly active. at one time he would stand poring on the town clock without being able to tell the hour. at another, he would distinctly hear his mother, who was many miles off, calling him by his name. but this was not the worst. a deep melancholy took possession of him, and gave a dark tinge to all his views of human nature and of human destiny. such wretchedness as he endured has driven many men to shoot themselves or drown themselves. but he was under no temptation to commit suicide. he was sick of life; but he was afraid of death; and he shuddered at every sight or sound which reminded him of the inevitable hour. in religion he found but little comfort during his long and frequent fits of dejection; for his religion partook of his own character. the light from heaven shone on him indeed, but not in a direct line, or with its own pure splendour. the rays had to struggle through a disturbing medium; they reached him refracted, dulled and discoloured by the thick gloom which had settled on his soul; and, though they might be sufficiently clear to guide him, were too dim to cheer him. . with such infirmities of body and mind, this celebrated man was left, at two-and-twenty, to fight his way through the world. he remained during about five years in the midland counties. at lichfield, his birthplace and his early home, he had inherited some friends and acquired others. he was kindly noticed by henry hervey, a gay officer of noble family, who happened to be quartered there. gilbert walmesley, registrar of the ecclesiastical court of the diocese, a man of distinguished parts, learning, and knowledge of the world, did himself honour by patronising the young adventurer, whose repulsive person, unpolished manners, and squalid garb moved many of the petty aristocracy of the neighbourhood to laughter or to disgust. at lichfield, however, johnson could find no way of earning a livelihood. he became usher of a grammar school in leicestershire; he resided as a humble companion in the house of a country gentleman; but a life of dependence was insupportable to his haughty spirit. he repaired to birmingham, and there earned a few guineas by literary drudgery. in that town he printed a translation, little noticed at the time, and long forgotten, of a latin book about abyssinia. he then put forth proposals for publishing by subscription the poems of politian, with notes containing a history of modern latin verse: but subscriptions did not come in; and the volume never appeared. . while leading this vagrant and miserable life, johnson fell in love. the object of his passion was mrs. elizabeth porter, a widow who had children as old as himself. to ordinary spectators, the lady appeared to be a short, fat, coarse woman, painted half an inch thick, dressed in gaudy colours, and fond of exhibiting provincial airs and graces which were not exactly those of the queensberrys and lepels. to johnson, however, whose passions were strong, whose eyesight was too weak to distinguish ceruse from natural bloom, and who had seldom or never been in the same room with a woman of real fashion, his titty, as he called her, was the most beautiful, graceful, and accomplished of her sex. that his admiration was unfeigned cannot be doubted; for she was as poor as himself. she accepted, with a readiness which did her little honour, the addresses of a suitor who might have been her son. the marriage, however, in spite of occasional wranglings, proved happier than might have been expected. the lover continued to be under the illusions of the wedding-day till the lady died in her sixty-fourth year. on her monument he placed an inscription extolling the charms of her person and of her manners; and when, long after her decease, he had occasion to mention her, he exclaimed, with a tenderness half ludicrous, half pathetic, "pretty creature!" . his marriage made it necessary for him to exert himself more strenuously than he had hitherto done. he took a house in the neighbourhood of his native town, and advertised for pupils. but eighteen months passed away; and only three pupils came to his academy. indeed, his appearance was so strange, and his temper so violent, that his schoolroom must have resembled an ogre's den. nor was the tawdry painted grandmother whom he called his titty well qualified to make provision for the comfort of young gentlemen. david garrick, who was one of the pupils, used, many years later, to throw the best company of london into convulsions of laughter by mimicking the endearments of this extraordinary pair. . at length johnson, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, determined to seek his fortune in the capital as a literary adventurer. he set out with a few guineas, three acts of the tragedy of irene in manuscript, and two or three letters of introduction from his friend walmesley. . never, since literature became a calling in england, had it been a less gainful calling than at the time when johnson took up his residence in london. in the preceding generation a writer of eminent merit was sure to be munificently rewarded by the government. the least that he could expect was a pension or a sinecure place; and, if he showed any aptitude for politics, he might hope to be a member of parliament, a lord of the treasury, an ambassador, a secretary of state. it would be easy, on the other hand, to name several writers of the nineteenth century of whom the least successful has received forty thousand pounds from the booksellers. but johnson entered on his vocation in the most dreary part of the dreary interval which separated two ages of prosperity. literature had ceased to flourish under the patronage of the great, and had not begun to flourish under the patronage of the public. one man of letters, indeed, pope, had acquired by his pen what was then considered as a handsome fortune, and lived on a footing of equality with nobles and ministers of state. but this was a solitary exception. even an author whose reputation was established, and whose works were popular, such an author as thomson, whose seasons were in every library, such an author as fielding, whose pasquin had had a greater run than any drama since the beggar's opera, was sometimes glad to obtain, by pawning his best coat, the means of dining on tripe at a cookshop underground, where he could wipe his hands, after his greasy meal, on the back of a newfoundland dog. it is easy, therefore, to imagine what humiliations and privations must have awaited the novice who had still to earn a name. one of the publishers to whom johnson applied for employment measured with a scornful eye that athletic though uncouth frame, and exclaimed, "you had better get a porter's knot, and carry trunks." nor was the advice bad; for a porter was likely to be as plentifully fed, and as comfortably lodged, as a poet. . some time appears to have elapsed before johnson was able to form any literary connection from which he could expect more than bread for the day which was passing over him. he never forgot the generosity with which hervey, who was now residing in london, relieved his wants during this time of trial. "harry hervey," said the old philosopher many years later, "was a vicious man; but he was very kind to me. if you call a dog hervey i shall love him." at hervey's table johnson sometimes enjoyed feasts which were made more agreeable by contrast. but in general he dined, and thought that he dined well, on sixpenny worth of meat, and a pennyworth of bread, at an alehouse near drury lane. . the effect of the privations and sufferings which he endured at this time was discernible to the last in his temper and his deportment. his manners had never been courtly. they now became almost savage. being frequently under the necessity of wearing shabby coats and dirty shirts, he became a confirmed sloven. being often very hungry when he sat down to his meals, he contracted a habit of eating with ravenous greediness. even to the end of his life, and even at the tables of the great, the sight of food affected him as it affects wild beasts and birds of prey. his taste in cookery, formed in subterranean ordinaries and alamode beefshops, was far from delicate. whenever he was so fortunate as to have near him a hare that had been kept too long, or a meat pie made with rancid butter, he gorged himself with such violence that his veins swelled, and the moisture broke out on his forehead. the affronts which his poverty emboldened stupid and low-minded men to offer to him would have broken a mean spirit into sycophancy, but made him rude even to ferocity. unhappily the insolence which, while it was defensive, was pardonable, and in some sense respectable, accompanied him into societies where he was treated with courtesy and kindness. he was repeatedly provoked into striking those who had taken liberties with him. all the sufferers, however, were wise enough to abstain from talking about their beatings, except osborne, the most rapacious and brutal of booksellers, who proclaimed everywhere that he had been knocked down by the huge fellow whom he had hired to puff the harleian library. . about a year after johnson had begun to reside in london, he was fortunate enough to obtain regular employment from cave, an enterprising and intelligent bookseller, who was proprietor and editor of _the gentleman's magazine_. that journal, just entering on the ninth year of its long existence, was the only periodical work in the kingdom which then had what would now be called a large circulation. it was, indeed, the chief source of parliamentary intelligence. it was not then safe, even during a recess, to publish an account of the proceedings of either house without some disguise. cave, however, ventured to entertain his readers with what he called "reports of the debates of the senate of lilliput." france was blefuscu; london was mildendo; pounds were sprugs; the duke of newcastle was the nardac secretary of state; lord hardwicke was the hurgo hickrad; and william pulteney was wingul pulnub. to write the speeches was, during several years, the business of johnson. he was generally furnished with notes, meagre indeed, and inaccurate, of what had been said; but sometimes he had to find arguments and eloquence both for the ministry and for the opposition. he was himself a tory, not from rational conviction--for his serious opinion was that one form of government was just as good or as bad as another--but from mere passion, such as inflamed the capulets against the montagues, or the blues of the roman circus against the greens. in his infancy he had heard so much talk about the villanies of the whigs, and the dangers of the church, that he had become a furious partisan when he could scarcely speak. before he was three he had insisted on being taken to hear sacheverell preach at lichfield cathedral, and had listened to the sermon with as much respect, and probably with as much intelligence, as any staffordshire squire in the congregation. the work which had been begun in the nursery had been completed by the university. oxford, when johnson resided there, was the most jacobitical place in england; and pembroke was one of the most jacobitical colleges in oxford. the prejudices which he brought up to london were scarcely less absurd than those of his own tom tempest. charles ii. and james ii. were two of the best kings that ever reigned. laud, a poor creature who never did, said, or wrote anything indicating more than the ordinary capacity of an old woman, was a prodigy of parts and learning over whose tomb art and genius still continued to weep. hampden deserved no more honourable name than that of "the zealot of rebellion." even the ship money, condemned not less decidedly by falkland and clarendon than by the bitterest roundheads, johnson would not pronounce to have been an unconstitutional impost. under a government, the mildest that had ever been known in the world--under a government, which allowed to the people an unprecedented liberty of speech and action--he fancied that he was a slave; he assailed the ministry with obloquy which refuted itself, and regretted the lost freedom and happiness of those golden days in which a writer who had taken but one-tenth part of the license allowed to him would have been pilloried, mangled with the shears, whipped at the cart's tail, and flung into a noisome dungeon to die. he hated dissenters and stock-jobbers, the excise and the army, septennial parliaments, and continental connections. he long had an aversion to the scotch, an aversion of which he could not remember the commencement, but which, he owned, had probably originated in his abhorrence of the conduct of the nation during the great rebellion. it is easy to guess in what manner debates on great party questions were likely to be reported by a man whose judgment was so much disordered by party spirit. a show of fairness was indeed necessary to the prosperity of the magazine. but johnson long afterwards owned that, though he had saved appearances, he had taken care that the whig dogs should not have the best of it; and, in fact, every passage which has lived, every passage which bears the marks of his higher faculties, is put into the mouth of some member of the opposition. . a few weeks after johnson had entered on these obscure labours, he published a work which at once placed him high among the writers of his age. it is probable that what he had suffered during his first year in london had often reminded him of some parts of that noble poem in which juvenal had described the misery and degradation of a needy man of letters, lodged among the pigeons' nests in the tottering garrets which overhung the streets of rome. pope's admirable imitations of horace's satires and epistles had recently appeared, were in every hand, and were by many readers thought superior to the originals. what pope had done for horace, johnson aspired to do for juvenal. the enterprise was bold, and yet judicious. for between johnson and juvenal there was much in common, much more certainly than between pope and horace. . johnson's london appeared without his name in may . he received only ten guineas for this stately and vigorous poem: but the sale was rapid, and the success complete. a second edition was required within a week. those small critics who are always desirous to lower established reputations ran about proclaiming that the anonymous satirist was superior to pope in pope's own peculiar department of literature. it ought to be remembered, to the honour of pope, that he joined heartily in the applause with which the appearance of a rival genius was welcomed. he made inquiries about the author of london. such a man, he said, could not long be concealed. the name was soon discovered; and pope, with great kindness, exerted himself to obtain an academical degree and the mastership of a grammar school for the poor young poet. the attempt failed, and johnson remained a bookseller's hack. . it does not appear that these two men, the most eminent writer of the generation which was going out, and the most eminent writer of the generation which was coming in, ever saw each other. they lived in very different circles, one surrounded by dukes and earls, the other by starving pamphleteers and indexmakers. among johnson's associates at this time may be mentioned boyse, who, when his shirts were pledged, scrawled latin verses sitting up in bed with his arms through two holes in his blanket, who composed very respectable sacred poetry when he was sober, and who was at last run over by a hackney coach when he was drunk; hoole, surnamed the metaphysical tailor, who, instead of attending to his measures, used to trace geometrical diagrams on the board where he sate cross-legged; and the penitent impostor, george psalmanazar, who, after poring all day, in a humble lodging, on the folios of jewish rabbis and christian fathers, indulged himself at night with literary and theological conversation at an alehouse in the city. but the most remarkable of the persons with whom at this time johnson consorted was richard savage, an earl's son, a shoemaker's apprentice, who had seen life in all its forms, who had feasted among blue ribands in saint james's square, and had lain with fifty pounds' weight of iron on his legs in the condemned ward of newgate. this man had, after many vicissitudes of fortune, sunk at last into abject and hopeless poverty. his pen had failed him. his patrons had been taken away by death, or estranged by the riotous profusion with which he squandered their bounty, and the ungrateful insolence with which he rejected their advice. he now lived by begging. he dined on venison and champagne whenever he had been so fortunate as to borrow a guinea. if his questing had been unsuccessful, he appeased the rage of hunger with some scraps of broken meat, and lay down to rest under the piazza of covent garden in warm weather, and, in cold weather, as near as he could get to the furnace of a glass house. yet, in his misery, he was still an agreeable companion. he had an inexhaustible store of anecdotes about that gay and brilliant world from which he was now an outcast. he had observed the great men of both parties in hours of careless relaxation, had seen the leaders of opposition without the mask of patriotism, and had heard the prime minister roar with laughter and tell stories not over decent. during some months savage lived in the closest familiarity with johnson; and then the friends parted, not without tears. johnson remained in london to drudge for cave. savage went to the west of england, lived there as he had lived everywhere, and, in , died, penniless and heart-broken, in bristol gaol. . soon after his death, while the public curiosity was strongly excited about his extraordinary character, and his not less extraordinary adventures, a life of him appeared widely different from the catchpenny lives of eminent men which were then a staple article of manufacture in grub street. the style was indeed deficient in ease and variety; and the writer was evidently too partial to the latin element of our language. but the little work, with all its faults, was a masterpiece. no finer specimen of literary biography existed in any language, living or dead; and a discerning critic might have confidently predicted that the author was destined to be the founder of a new school of english eloquence. . the life of savage was anonymous; but it was well known in literary circles that johnson was the writer. during the three years which followed, he produced no important work; but he was not, and indeed could not be, idle. the fame of his abilities and learning continued to grow. warburton pronounced him a man of parts and genius; and the praise of warburton was then no light thing. such was johnson's reputation that, in , several eminent booksellers combined to employ him in the arduous work of preparing a dictionary of the english language, in two folio volumes. the sum which they agreed to pay him was only fifteen hundred guineas; and out of this sum he had to pay several poor men of letters who assisted him in the humbler parts of his task. . the prospectus of the dictionary he addressed to the earl of chesterfield. chesterfield had long been celebrated for the politeness of his manners, the brilliancy of his wit, and the delicacy of his taste. he was acknowledged to be the finest speaker in the house of lords. he had recently governed ireland, at a momentous conjuncture, with eminent firmness, wisdom, and humanity; and he had since become secretary of state. he received johnson's homage with the most winning affability, and requited it with a few guineas, bestowed doubtless in a very graceful manner, but was by no means desirous to see all his carpets blackened with the london mud, and his soups and wines thrown to right and left over the gowns of fine ladies and the waistcoats of fine gentlemen, by an absent, awkward scholar, who gave strange starts and uttered strange growls, who dressed like a scarecrow, and ate like a cormorant. during some time johnson continued to call on his patron, but after being repeatedly told by the porter that his lordship was not at home, took the hint, and ceased to present himself at the inhospitable door. . johnson had flattered himself that he should have completed his dictionary by the end of ; but it was not till that he at length gave his huge volumes to the world. during the seven years which he passed in the drudgery of penning definitions and marking quotations for transcription, he sought for relaxation in literary labour of a more agreeable kind. in he published the vanity of human wishes, an excellent imitation of the tenth satire of juvenal. it is in truth not easy to say whether the palm belongs to the ancient or to the modern poet. the couplets in which the fall of wolsey is described, though lofty and sonorous, are feeble when compared with the wonderful lines which bring before us all rome in tumult on the day of the fall of sejanus, the laurels on the doorposts, the white bull stalking towards the capitol, the statues rolling down from their pedestals, the flatterers of the disgraced minister running to see him dragged with a hook through the streets, and to have a kick at his carcase before it is hurled into the tiber. it must be owned too that in the concluding passage the christian moralist has not made the most of his advantages, and has fallen decidedly short of the sublimity of his pagan model. on the other hand, juvenal's hannibal must yield to johnson's charles; and johnson's vigorous and pathetic enumeration of the miseries of a literary life must be allowed to be superior to juvenal's lamentation over the fate of demosthenes and cicero. . for the copyright of the vanity of human wishes johnson received only fifteen guineas. . a few days after the publication of this poem, his tragedy, begun many years before, was brought on the stage. his pupil, david garrick, had, in , made his appearance on a humble stage in goodman's fields, had at once risen to the first place among actors, and was now, after several years of almost uninterrupted success, manager of drury lane theatre. the relation between him and his old preceptor was of a very singular kind. they repelled each other strongly, and yet attracted each other strongly. nature had made them of very different clay; and circumstances had fully brought out the natural peculiarities of both. sudden prosperity had turned garrick's head. continued adversity had soured johnson's temper. johnson saw with more envy than became so great a man the villa, the plate, the china, the brussels carpet, which the little mimic had got by repeating, with grimaces and gesticulations, what wiser men had written; and the exquisitely sensitive vanity of garrick was galled by the thought that, while all the rest of the world was applauding him, he could obtain from one morose cynic, whose opinion it was impossible to despise, scarcely any compliment not acidulated with scorn. yet the two lichfield men had so many early recollections in common, and sympathised with each other on so many points on which they sympathised with nobody else in the vast population of the capital, that, though the master was often provoked by the monkey-like impertinence of the pupil, and the pupil by the bearish rudeness of the master, they remained friends till they were parted by death. garrick now brought irene out, with alterations sufficient to displease the author, yet not sufficient to make the piece pleasing to the audience. the public, however, listened with little emotion, but with much civility, to five acts of monotonous declamation. after nine representations the play was withdrawn. it is, indeed, altogether unsuited to the stage, and, even when perused in the closet, will be found hardly worthy of the author. he had not the slightest notion of what blank verse should be. a change in the last syllable of every other line would make the versification of the vanity of human wishes closely resemble the versification of irene. the poet, however, cleared, by his benefit nights, and by the sale of the copyright of his tragedy, about three hundred pounds, then a great sum in his estimation. . about a year after the representation of irene, he began to publish a series of short essays on morals, manners, and literature. this species of composition had been brought into fashion by the success of the tatler, and by the still more brilliant success of the spectator. a crowd of small writers had vainly attempted to rival addison. the lay monastery, the censor, the freethinker, the plain dealer, the champion, and other works of the same kind, had had their short day. none of them had obtained a permanent place in our literature; and they are now to be found only in the libraries of the curious. at length johnson undertook the adventure in which so many aspirants had failed. in the thirty-sixth year after the appearance of the last number of the spectator appeared the first number of the rambler. from march to march , this paper continued to come out every tuesday and saturday. . from the first the rambler was enthusiastically admired by a few eminent men. richardson, when only five numbers had appeared, pronounced it equal, if not superior, to the spectator. young and hartley expressed their approbation not less warmly. bubb dodington, among whose many faults indifference to the claims of genius and learning cannot be reckoned, solicited the acquaintance of the writer. in consequence probably of the good offices of dodington, who was then the confidential adviser of prince frederic, two of his royal highness's gentlemen carried a gracious message to the printing office, and ordered seven copies for leicester house. but these overtures seem to have been very coldly received. johnson had had enough of the patronage of the great to last him all his life, and was not disposed to haunt any other door as he had haunted the door of chesterfield. . by the public the rambler was at first very coldly received. though the price of a number was only twopence, the sale did not amount to five hundred. the profits were therefore very small. but as soon as the flying leaves were collected and reprinted they became popular. the author lived to see thirteen thousand copies spread over england alone. separate editions were published for the scotch and irish markets. a large party pronounced the style perfect, so absolutely perfect that in some essays it would be impossible for the writer himself to alter a single word for the better. another party, not less numerous, vehemently accused him of having corrupted the purity of the english tongue. the best critics admitted that his diction was too monotonous, too obviously artificial, and now and then turgid even to absurdity. but they did justice to the acuteness of his observations on morals and manners, to the constant precision and frequent brilliancy of his language, to the weighty and magnificent eloquence of many serious passages, and to the solemn yet pleasing humour of some of the lighter papers. on the question of precedence between addison and johnson, a question which, seventy years ago, was much disputed, posterity has pronounced a decision from which there is no appeal. sir roger, his chaplain and his butler, will wimble and will honeycomb, the vision of mirza, the journal of the retired citizen, the everlasting club, the dunmow flitch, the loves of hilpah and shalum, the visit to the exchange, and the visit to the abbey, are known to everybody. but many men and women, even of highly cultivated minds, are unacquainted with squire bluster and mrs. busy, quisquilius and venustulus, the allegory of wit and learning, the chronicle of the revolutions of a garret, and the sad fate of aningait and ajut. . the last rambler was written in a sad and gloomy hour. mrs. johnson had been given over by the physicians. three days later she died. she left her husband almost broken-hearted. many people had been surprised to see a man of his genius and learning stooping to every drudgery, and denying himself almost every comfort, for the purpose of supplying a silly, affected old woman with superfluities, which she accepted with but little gratitude. but all his affection had been concentrated on her. he had neither brother nor sister, neither son nor daughter. to him she was beautiful as the gunnings, and witty as lady mary. her opinion of his writings was more important to him than the voice of the pit of drury lane theatre or the judgment of the monthly review. the chief support which had sustained him through the most arduous labour of his life was the hope that she would enjoy the fame and the profit which he anticipated from his dictionary. she was gone; and in that vast labyrinth of streets, peopled by eight hundred thousand human beings, he was alone. yet it was necessary for him to set himself, as he expressed it, doggedly to work. after three more laborious years, the dictionary was at length complete. . it had been generally supposed that this great work would be dedicated to the eloquent and accomplished nobleman to whom the prospectus had been addressed. he well knew the value of such a compliment; and therefore, when the day of publication drew near, he exerted himself to soothe, by a show of zealous and at the same time of delicate and judicious kindness, the pride which he had so cruelly wounded. since the ramblers had ceased to appear, the town had been entertained by a journal called the world, to which many men of high rank and fashion contributed. in two successive numbers of the world the dictionary was, to use the modern phrase, puffed with wonderful skill. the writings of johnson were warmly praised. it was proposed that he should be invested with the authority of a dictator, nay, of a pope, over our language, and that his decisions about the meaning and the spelling of words should be received as final. his two folios, it was said, would of course be bought by everybody who could afford to buy them. it was soon known that these papers were written by chesterfield. but the just resentment of johnson was not to be so appeased. in a letter written with singular energy and dignity of thought and language, he repelled the tardy advances of his patron. the dictionary came forth without a dedication. in the preface the author truly declared that he owed nothing to the great, and described the difficulties with which he had been left to struggle so forcibly and pathetically that the ablest and most malevolent of all the enemies of his fame, horne tooke, never could read that passage without tears. . the public, on this occasion, did johnson full justice, and something more than justice. the best lexicographer may well be content if his productions are received by the world with cold esteem. but johnson's dictionary was hailed with an enthusiasm such as no similar work has ever excited. it was indeed the first dictionary which could be read with pleasure. the definitions show so much acuteness of thought and command of language, and the passages quoted from poets, divines, and philosophers are so skilfully selected, that a leisure hour may always be very agreeably spent in turning over the pages. the faults of the book resolve themselves, for the most part, into one great fault. johnson was a wretched etymologist. he knew little or nothing of any teutonic language except english, which indeed, as he wrote it, was scarcely a teutonic language; and thus he was absolutely at the mercy of junius and skinner. . the dictionary, though it raised johnson's fame, added nothing to his pecuniary means. the fifteen hundred guineas which the booksellers had agreed to pay him had been advanced and spent before the last sheets issued from the press. it is painful to relate that, twice in the course of the year which followed the publication of this great work, he was arrested and carried to spunging-houses, and that he was twice indebted for his liberty to his excellent friend richardson. it was still necessary for the man who had been formally saluted by the highest authority as dictator of the english language to supply his wants by constant toil. he abridged his dictionary. he proposed to bring out an edition of shakspeare by subscription; and many subscribers sent in their names and laid down their money; but he soon found the task so little to his taste that he turned to more attractive employments. he contributed many papers to a new monthly journal, which was called the literary magazine. few of these papers have much interest; but among them was the very best thing that he ever wrote, a masterpiece both of reasoning and of satirical pleasantry, the review of jenyns's inquiry into the nature and origin of evil. . in the spring of johnson put forth the first of a series of essays, entitled the idler. during two years these essays continued to appear weekly. they were eagerly read, widely circulated, and, indeed, impudently pirated, while they were still in the original form, and had a large sale when collected into volumes. the idler may be described as a second part of the rambler, somewhat livelier and somewhat weaker than the first part. . while johnson was busied with his idlers, his mother, who had accomplished her ninetieth year, died at lichfield. it was long since he had seen her; but he had not failed to contribute largely, out of his small means, to her comfort. in order to defray the charges of her funeral, and to pay some debts which she had left, he wrote a little book in a single week, and sent off the sheets to the press without reading them over. a hundred pounds were paid him for the copyright; and the purchasers had great cause to be pleased with their bargain; for the book was rasselas. . the success of rasselas was great, though such ladies as miss lydia languish must have been grievously disappointed when they found that the new volume from the circulating library was little more than a dissertation on the author's favourite theme, the vanity of human wishes; that the prince of abyssinia was without a mistress, and the princess without a lover; and that the story set the hero and the heroine down exactly where it had taken them up. the style was the subject of much eager controversy. the monthly review and the critical review took different sides. many readers pronounced the writer a pompous pedant, who would never use a word of two syllables where it was possible to use a word of six, and who could not make a waiting woman relate her adventures without balancing every noun with another noun, and every epithet with another epithet. another party, not less zealous, cited with delight numerous passages in which weighty meaning was expressed with accuracy and illustrated with splendour. and both the censure and the praise were merited. . about the plan of rasselas little was said by the critics; and yet the faults of the plan might seem to invite severe criticism. johnson has frequently blamed shakspeare for neglecting the proprieties of time and place, and for ascribing to one age or nation the manners and opinions of another. yet shakspeare has not sinned in this way more grievously than johnson. rasselas and imlac, nekayah and pekuah, are evidently meant to be abyssinians of the eighteenth century: for the europe which imlac describes is the europe of the eighteenth century; and the inmates of the happy valley talk familiarly of that law of gravitation which newton discovered, and which was not fully received even at cambridge till the eighteenth century. what a real company of abyssinians would have been may be learned from bruce's travels. but johnson, not content with turning filthy savages, ignorant of their letters, and gorged with raw steaks cut from living cows, into philosophers as eloquent and enlightened as himself or his friend burke, and into ladies as highly accomplished as mrs. lennox or mrs. sheridan, transferred the whole domestic system of england to egypt. into a land of harems, a land of polygamy, a land where women are married without ever being seen, he introduced the flirtations and jealousies of our ballrooms. in a land where there is boundless liberty of divorce, wedlock is described as the indissoluble compact. "a youth and maiden meeting by chance, or brought together by artifice, exchange glances, reciprocate civilities, go home, and dream of each other. such," says rasselas, "is the common process of marriage." such it may have been, and may still be, in london, but assuredly not at cairo. a writer who was guilty of such improprieties had little right to blame the poet who made hector quote aristotle, and represented julio romano as flourishing in the days of the oracle of delphi. . by such exertions as have been described, johnson supported himself till the year . in that year a great change in his circumstances took place. he had from a child been an enemy of the reigning dynasty. his jacobite prejudices had been exhibited with little disguise both in his works and in his conversation. even in his massy and elaborate dictionary, he had, with a strange want of taste and judgment, inserted bitter and contumelious reflections on the whig party. the excise, which was a favourite resource of whig financiers, he had designated as a hateful tax. he had railed against the commissioners of excise in language so coarse that they had seriously thought of prosecuting him. he had with difficulty been prevented from holding up the lord privy seal by name as an example of the meaning of the word "renegade." a pension he had defined as pay given to a state hireling to betray his country; a pensioner as a slave of state hired by a stipend to obey a master. it seemed unlikely that the author of these definitions would himself be pensioned. but that was a time of wonders. george the third had ascended the throne; and had, in the course of a few months, disgusted many of the old friends and conciliated many of the old enemies of his house. the city was becoming mutinous. oxford was becoming loyal. cavendishes and bentincks were murmuring. somersets and wyndhams were hastening to kiss hands. the head of the treasury was now lord bute, who was a tory, and could have no objection to johnson's toryism. bute wished to be thought a patron of men of letters; and johnson was one of the most eminent and one of the most needy men of letters in europe. a pension of three hundred a year was graciously offered, and with very little hesitation accepted. . this event produced a change in johnson's whole way of life. for the first time since his boyhood he no longer felt the daily goad urging him to the daily toil. he was at liberty, after thirty years of anxiety and drudgery, to indulge his constitutional indolence, to lie in bed till two in the afternoon, and to sit up talking till four in the morning, without fearing either the printer's devil or the sheriff's officer. . one laborious task indeed he had bound himself to perform. he had received large subscriptions for his promised edition of shakspeare; he had lived on those subscriptions during some years; and he could not without disgrace omit to perform his part of the contract. his friends repeatedly exhorted him to make an effort; and he repeatedly resolved to do so. but, notwithstanding their exhortations and his resolutions, month followed month, year followed year, and nothing was done. he prayed fervently against his idleness; he determined, as often as he received the sacrament, that he would no longer doze away and trifle away his time; but the spell under which he lay resisted prayer and sacrament. his private notes at this time are made up of self-reproaches. "my indolence," he wrote on easter eve in , "has sunk into grosser sluggishness. a kind of strange oblivion has overspread me, so that i know not what has become of the last year." easter came, and found him still in the same state. "my time," he wrote, "has been unprofitably spent, and seems as a dream that has left nothing behind. my memory grows confused, and i know not how the days pass over me." happily for his honour, the charm which held him captive was at length broken by no gentle or friendly hand. he had been weak enough to pay serious attention to a story about a ghost which haunted a house in cock lane, and had actually gone himself with some of his friends, at one in the morning, to st. john's church, clerkenwell, in the hope of receiving a communication from the perturbed spirit. but the spirit, though adjured with all solemnity, remained obstinately silent; and it soon appeared that a naughty girl of eleven had been amusing herself by making fools of so many philosophers. churchill, who, confident in his powers, drunk with popularity, and burning with party spirit, was looking for some man of established fame and tory politics to insult, celebrated the cock lane ghost in three cantos, nicknamed johnson pomposo, asked where the book was which had been so long promised and so liberally paid for, and directly accused the great moralist of cheating. this terrible word proved effectual; and in october appeared, after a delay of nine years, the new edition of shakspeare. . this publication saved johnson's character for honesty, but added nothing to the fame of his abilities and learning. the preface, though it contains some good passages, is not in his best manner. the most valuable notes are those in which he had an opportunity of showing how attentively he had during many years observed human life and human nature. the best specimen is the note on the character of polonius. nothing so good is to be found even in wilhelm meister's admirable examination of hamlet. but here praise must end. it would be difficult to name a more slovenly, a more worthless edition of any great classic. the reader may turn over play after play without finding one happy conjectural emendation, or one ingenious and satisfactory explanation of a passage which had baffled preceding commentators. johnson had, in his prospectus, told the world that he was peculiarly fitted for the task which he had undertaken, because he had, as a lexicographer, been under the necessity of taking a wider view of the english language than any of his predecessors. that his knowledge of our literature was extensive is indisputable. but, unfortunately, he had altogether neglected that very part of our literature with which it is especially desirable that an editor of shakspeare should be conversant. it is dangerous to assert a negative. yet little will be risked by the assertion, that in the two folio volumes of the english dictionary there is not a single passage quoted from any dramatist of the elizabethan age, except shakspeare and ben. even from ben the quotations are few. johnson might easily, in a few months, have made himself well acquainted with every old play that was extant. but it never seems to have occurred to him that this was a necessary preparation for the work which he had undertaken. he would doubtless have admitted that it would be the height of absurdity in a man who was not familiar with the works of Æschylus and euripides to publish an edition of sophocles. yet he ventured to publish an edition of shakspeare, without having ever in his life, as far as can be discovered, read a single scene of massinger, ford, decker, webster, marlow, beaumont, or fletcher. his detractors were noisy and scurrilous. those who most loved and honoured him had little to say in praise of the manner in which he had discharged the duty of a commentator. he had, however, acquitted himself of a debt which had long lain heavy on his conscience; and he sank back into the repose from which the sting of satire had roused him. he long continued to live upon the fame which he had already won. he was honoured by the university of oxford with a doctor's degree, by the royal academy with a professorship, and by the king with an interview, in which his majesty most graciously expressed a hope that so excellent a writer would not cease to write. in the interval, however, between and johnson published only two or three political tracts, the longest of which he could have produced in forty-eight hours, if he had worked as he worked on the life of savage and on rasselas. . but, though his pen was now idle, his tongue was active. the influence exercised by his conversation, directly upon those with whom he lived, and indirectly on the whole literary world, was altogether without a parallel. his colloquial talents were indeed of the highest order. he had strong sense, quick discernment, wit, humour, immense knowledge of literature and of life, and an infinite store of curious anecdotes. as respected style, he spoke far better than he wrote. every sentence which dropped from his lips was as correct in structure as the most nicely balanced period of the rambler. but in his talk there were no pompous triads, and little more than a fair proportion of words in _osity_ and _ation_. all was simplicity, ease, and vigour. he uttered his short, weighty, and pointed sentences with a power of voice, and a justness and energy of emphasis, of which the effect was rather increased than diminished by the rollings of his huge form, and by the asthmatic gaspings and puffings in which the peals of his eloquence generally ended. nor did the laziness which made him unwilling to sit down to his desk prevent him from giving instruction or entertainment orally. to discuss questions of taste, of learning, of casuistry, in language so exact and so forcible that it might have been printed without the alteration of a word, was to him no exertion, but a pleasure. he loved, as he said, to fold his legs and have his talk out. he was ready to bestow the overflowings of his full mind on anybody who would start a subject, on a fellow-passenger in a stage coach, or on the person who sate at the same table with him in an eating-house. but his conversation was nowhere so brilliant and striking as when he was surrounded by a few friends, whose abilities and knowledge enabled them, as he once expressed it, to send him back every ball that he threw. some of these, in , formed themselves into a club, which gradually became a formidable power in the commonwealth of letters. the verdicts pronounced by this conclave on new books were speedily known over all london, and were sufficient to sell off a whole edition in a day, or to condemn the sheets to the service of the trunk-maker and the pastry-cook. nor shall we think this strange when we consider what great and various talents and acquirements met in the little fraternity. goldsmith was the representative of poetry and light literature, reynolds of the arts, burke of political eloquence and political philosophy. there, too, were gibbon, the greatest historian, and jones, the greatest linguist, of the age. garrick brought to the meetings his inexhaustible pleasantry, his incomparable mimicry, and his consummate knowledge of stage effect. among the most constant attendants were two high-born and high-bred gentlemen, closely bound together by friendship, but of widely different characters and habits; bennet langton, distinguished by his skill in greek literature, by the orthodoxy of his opinions, and by the sanctity of his life; and topham beauclerk, renowned for his amours, his knowledge of the gay world, his fastidious taste, and his sarcastic wit. to predominate over such a society was not easy. yet even over such a society johnson predominated. burke might indeed have disputed the supremacy to which others were under the necessity of submitting. but burke, though not generally a very patient listener, was content to take the second part when johnson was present; and the club itself, consisting of so many eminent men, is to this day popularly designated as johnson's club. . among the members of this celebrated body was one to whom it has owed the greater part of its celebrity, yet who was regarded with little respect by his brethren, and had not without difficulty obtained a seat among them. this was james boswell, a young scotch lawyer, heir to an honourable name and a fair estate. that he was a coxcomb and a bore, weak, vain, pushing, curious, garrulous, was obvious to all who were acquainted with him. that he could not reason, that he had no wit, no humour, no eloquence, is apparent from his writings. and yet his writings are read beyond the mississippi, and under the southern cross, and are likely to be read as long as the english exists, either as a living or as a dead language. nature had made him a slave and an idolater. his mind resembled those creepers which the botanists call parasites, and which can subsist only by clinging round the stems and imbibing the juices of stronger plants. he must have fastened himself on somebody. he might have fastened himself on wilkes, and have become the fiercest patriot in the bill of rights society. he might have fastened himself on whitfield, and have become the loudest field preacher among the calvinistic methodists. in a happy hour he fastened himself on johnson. the pair might seem ill matched. for johnson had early been prejudiced against boswell's country. to a man of johnson's strong understanding and irritable temper, the silly egotism and adulation of boswell must have been as teasing as the constant buzz of a fly. johnson hated to be questioned; and boswell was eternally catechising him on all kinds of subjects, and sometimes propounded such questions as "what would you do, sir, if you were locked up in a tower with a baby?" johnson was a water drinker; and boswell was a wine-bibber, and indeed little better than a habitual sot. it was impossible that there should be perfect harmony between two such companions. indeed, the great man was sometimes provoked into fits of passion in which he said things which the small man, during a few hours, seriously resented. every quarrel, however, was soon made up. during twenty years the disciple continued to worship the master: the master continued to scold the disciple, to sneer at him, and to love him. the two friends ordinarily resided at a great distance from each other. boswell practised in the parliament house of edinburgh, and could pay only occasional visits to london. during those visits his chief business was to watch johnson, to discover all johnson's habits, to turn the conversation to subjects about which johnson was likely to say something remarkable, and to fill quarto note books with minutes of what johnson had said. in this way were gathered the materials out of which was afterwards constructed the most interesting biographical work in the world. . soon after the club began to exist, johnson formed a connection less important indeed to his fame, but much more important to his happiness, than his connection with boswell. henry thrale, one of the most opulent brewers in the kingdom, a man of sound and cultivated understanding, rigid principles, and liberal spirit, was married to one of those clever, kind-hearted, engaging, vain, pert young women, who are perpetually doing or saying what is not exactly right, but who, do or say what they may, are always agreeable. in the thrales became acquainted with johnson, and the acquaintance ripened fast into friendship. they were astonished and delighted by the brilliancy of his conversation. they were flattered by finding that a man so widely celebrated, preferred their house to any other in london. even the peculiarities which seemed to unfit him for civilised society, his gesticulations, his rollings, his puffings, his mutterings, the strange way in which he put on his clothes, the ravenous eagerness with which he devoured his dinner, his fits of melancholy, his fits of anger, his frequent rudeness, his occasional ferocity, increased the interest which his new associates took in him. for these things were the cruel marks left behind by a life which had been one long conflict with disease and with adversity. in a vulgar hack writer such oddities would have excited only disgust. but in a man of genius, learning, and virtue their effect was to add pity to admiration and esteem. johnson soon had an apartment at the brewery in southwark, and a still more pleasant apartment at the villa of his friends on streatham common. a large part of every year he passed in those abodes, abodes which must have seemed magnificent and luxurious indeed, when compared with the dens in which he had generally been lodged. but his chief pleasures were derived from what the astronomer of his abyssinian tale called "the endearing elegance of female friendship." mrs. thrale rallied him, soothed him, coaxed him, and, if she sometimes provoked him by her flippancy, made ample amends by listening to his reproofs with angelic sweetness of temper. when he was diseased in body and in mind, she was the most tender of nurses. no comfort that wealth could purchase, no contrivance that womanly ingenuity, set to work by womanly compassion, could devise, was wanting to his sick-room. he requited her kindness by an affection pure as the affection of a father, yet delicately tinged with a gallantry which, though awkward, must have been more flattering than the attentions of a crowd of the fools who gloried in the names, now obsolete, of buck and maccaroni. it should seem that a full half of johnson's life, during about sixteen years, was passed under the roof of the thrales. he accompanied the family sometimes to bath, and sometimes to brighton, once to wales, and once to paris. but he had at the same time a house in one of the narrow and gloomy courts on the north of fleet street. in the garrets was his library, a large and miscellaneous collection of books, falling to pieces and begrimed with dust. on a lower floor he sometimes, but very rarely, regaled a friend with a plain dinner, a veal pie, or a leg of lamb and spinage, and a rice pudding. nor was the dwelling uninhabited during his long absences. it was the home of the most extraordinary assemblage of inmates that ever was brought together. at the head of the establishment johnson had placed an old lady named williams, whose chief recommendations were her blindness and her poverty. but, in spite of her murmurs and reproaches, he gave an asylum to another lady who was as poor as herself, mrs. desmoulins, whose family he had known many years before in staffordshire. room was found for the daughter of mrs. desmoulins, and for another destitute damsel, who was generally addressed as miss carmichael, but whom her generous host called polly. an old quack doctor named levett, who bled and dosed coal-heavers and hackney coachmen, and received for fees crusts of bread, bits of bacon, glasses of gin, and sometimes a little copper, completed this strange menagerie. all these poor creatures were at constant war with each other, and with johnson's negro servant frank. sometimes, indeed, they transferred their hostilities from the servant to the master, complained that a better table was not kept for them, and railed or maundered till their benefactor was glad to make his escape to streatham, or to the mitre tavern. and yet he, who was generally the haughtiest and most irritable of mankind, who was but too prompt to resent anything which looked like a slight on the part of a purse-proud bookseller, or of a noble and powerful patron, bore patiently from mendicants, who, but for his bounty, must have gone to the workhouse, insults more provoking than those for which he had knocked down osborne and bidden defiance to chesterfield. year after year mrs. williams and mrs. desmoulins, polly, and levett continued to torment him and to live upon him. . the course of life which has been described was interrupted in johnson's sixty-fourth year by an important event. he had early read an account of the hebrides, and had been much interested by learning that there was so near him a land peopled by a race which was still as rude and simple as in the middle ages. a wish to become intimately acquainted with a state of society so utterly unlike all that he had ever seen frequently crossed his mind. but it is not probable that his curiosity would have overcome his habitual sluggishness, and his love of the smoke, the mud, and the cries of london, had not boswell importuned him to attempt the adventure, and offered to be his squire. at length, in august , johnson crossed the highland line, and plunged courageously into what was then considered, by most englishmen, as a dreary and perilous wilderness. after wandering about two months through the celtic region, sometimes in rude boats which did not protect him from the rain, and sometimes on small shaggy ponies which could hardly bear his weight, he returned to his old haunts with a mind full of new images and new theories. during the following year he employed himself in recording his adventures. about the beginning of , his journey to the hebrides was published, and was, during some weeks, the chief subject of conversation in all circles in which any attention was paid to literature. the book is still read with pleasure. the narrative is entertaining; the speculations, whether sound or unsound, are always ingenious; and the style, though too stiff and pompous, is somewhat easier and more graceful than that of his early writings. his prejudice against the scotch had at length become little more than matter of jest; and whatever remained of the old feeling had been effectually removed by the kind and respectful hospitality with which he had been received in every part of scotland. it was, of course, not to be expected that an oxonian tory should praise the presbyterian polity and ritual, or that an eye accustomed to the hedgerows and parks of england should not be struck by the bareness of berwickshire and east lothian. but even in censure johnson's tone is not unfriendly. the most enlightened scotchmen, with lord mansfield at their head, were well pleased. but some foolish and ignorant scotchmen were moved to anger by a little unpalatable truth which was mingled with much eulogy, and assailed him whom they chose to consider as the enemy of their country, with libels much more dishonourable to their country than anything that he had ever said or written. they published paragraphs in the newspapers, articles in the magazines, sixpenny pamphlets, five-shilling books. one scribbler abused johnson for being blear-eyed; another for being a pensioner; a third informed the world that one of the doctor's uncles had been convicted of felony in scotland, and had found that there was in that country one tree capable of supporting the weight of an englishman. macpherson, whose fingal had been proved in the journey to be an impudent forgery, threatened to take vengeance with a cane. the only effect of this threat was that johnson reiterated the charge of forgery in the most contemptuous terms, and walked about, during some time, with a cudgel, which, if the impostor had not been too wise to encounter it, would assuredly have descended upon him, to borrow the sublime language of his own epic poem, "like a hammer on the red son of the furnace." . of other assailants johnson took no notice whatever. he had early resolved never to be drawn into controversy; and he adhered to his resolution with a steadfastness which is the more extraordinary, because he was, both intellectually and morally, of the stuff of which controversialists are made. in conversation, he was a singularly eager, acute, and pertinacious disputant. when at a loss for good reasons, he had recourse to sophistry; and, when heated by altercation, he made unsparing use of sarcasm and invective. but, when he took his pen in his hand, his whole character seemed to be changed. a hundred bad writers misrepresented him and reviled him; but not one of the hundred could boast of having been thought by him worthy of a refutation, or even of a retort. the kenricks, campbells, macnicols, and hendersons did their best to annoy him, in the hope that he would give them importance by answering them. but the reader will in vain search his works for any allusion to kenrick or campbell, to macnicol or henderson. one scotchman, bent on vindicating the fame of scotch learning, defied him to the combat in a detestable latin hexameter. "maxime, si tu vis, cupio contendere tecum." but johnson took no notice of the challenge. he had learned, both from his own observation and from literary history, in which he was deeply read, that the place of books in the public estimation is fixed, not by what is written about them, but by what is written in them; and that an author whose works are likely to live is very unwise if he stoops to wrangle with detractors whose works are certain to die. he always maintained that fame was a shuttlecock which could be kept up only by being beaten back, as well as beaten forward, and which would soon fall if there were only one battledore. no saying was oftener in his mouth than that fine apophthegm of bentley, that no man was ever written down but by himself. . unhappily, a few months after the appearance of the journey to the hebrides, johnson did what none of his envious assailants could have done, and to a certain extent succeeded in writing himself down. the disputes between england and her american colonies had reached a point at which no amicable adjustment was possible. civil war was evidently impending; and the ministers seem to have thought that the eloquence of johnson might with advantage be employed to inflame the nation against the opposition here, and against the rebels beyond the atlantic. he had already written two or three tracts in defence of the foreign and domestic policy of the government; and those tracts, though hardly worthy of him, were much superior to the crowd of pamphlets which lay on the counters of almon and stockdale. but his taxation no tyranny was a pitiable failure. the very title was a silly phrase, which can have been recommended to his choice by nothing but a jingling alliteration which he ought to have despised. the arguments were such as boys use in debating societies. the pleasantry was as awkward as the gambols of a hippopotamus. even boswell was forced to own that, in this unfortunate piece, he could detect no trace of his master's powers. the general opinion was that the strong faculties which had produced the dictionary and the rambler were beginning to feel the effect of time and of disease, and that the old man would best consult his credit by writing no more. . but this was a great mistake. johnson had failed, not because his mind was less vigorous than when he wrote rasselas in the evenings of a week, but because he had foolishly chosen, or suffered others to choose for him, a subject such as he would at no time have been competent to treat. he was in no sense a statesman. he never willingly read or thought or talked about affairs of state. he loved biography, literary history, the history of manners; but political history was positively distasteful to him. the question at issue between the colonies and the mother country was a question about which he had really nothing to say. he failed, therefore, as the greatest men must fail when they attempt to do that for which they are unfit; as burke would have failed if burke had tried to write comedies like those of sheridan; as reynolds would have failed if reynolds had tried to paint landscapes like those of wilson. happily, johnson soon had an opportunity of proving most signally that his failure was not to be ascribed to intellectual decay. . on easter eve , some persons, deputed by a meeting which consisted of forty of the first booksellers in london, called upon him. though he had some scruples about doing business at that season, he received his visitors with much civility. they came to inform him that a new edition of the english poets, from cowley downwards, was in contemplation, and to ask him to furnish short biographical prefaces. he readily undertook the task, a task for which he was pre-eminently qualified. his knowledge of the literary history of england since the restoration was unrivalled. that knowledge he had derived partly from books, and partly from sources which had long been closed; from old grub street traditions; from the talk of forgotten poetasters and pamphleteers who had long been lying in parish vaults; from the recollections of such men as gilbert walmesley, who had conversed with the wits of button's; cibber, who had mutilated the plays of two generations of dramatists; orrery, who had been admitted to the society of swift; and savage, who had rendered services of no very honourable kind to pope. the biographer therefore sate down to his task with a mind full of matter. he had at first intended to give only a paragraph to every minor poet, and only four or five pages to the greatest name. but the flood of anecdote and criticism overflowed the narrow channel. the work, which was originally meant to consist only of a few sheets, swelled into ten volumes, small volumes, it is true, and not closely printed. the first four appeared in , the remaining six in . . the lives of the poets are, on the whole, the best of johnson's works. the narratives are as entertaining as any novel. the remarks on life and on human nature are eminently shrewd and profound. the criticisms are often excellent, and, even when grossly and provokingly unjust, well deserve to be studied. for, however erroneous they may be, they are never silly. they are the judgments of a mind trammelled by prejudice and deficient in sensibility, but vigorous and acute. they therefore generally contain a portion of valuable truth which deserves to be separated from the alloy; and, at the very worst, they mean something, a praise to which much of what is called criticism in our time has no pretensions. . savage's life johnson reprinted nearly as it had appeared in . whoever, after reading that life, will turn to the other lives will be struck by the difference of style. since johnson had been at ease in his circumstances he had written little and had talked much. when, therefore, he, after the lapse of years, resumed his pen, the mannerism which he had contracted while he was in the constant habit of elaborate composition was less perceptible than formerly; and his diction frequently had a colloquial ease which it had formerly wanted. the improvement may be discerned by a skilful critic in the journey to the hebrides, and in the lives of the poets is so obvious that it cannot escape the notice of the most careless reader. . among the lives the best are perhaps those of cowley, dryden, and pope. the very worst is, beyond all doubt, that of gray. . this great work at once became popular. there was, indeed, much just and much unjust censure: but even those who were loudest in blame were attracted by the book in spite of themselves. malone computed the gains of the publishers at five or six thousand pounds. but the writer was very poorly remunerated. intending at first to write very short prefaces, he had stipulated for only two hundred guineas. the booksellers, when they saw how far his performance had surpassed his promise, added only another hundred. indeed, johnson, though he did not despise, or affect to despise, money, and though his strong sense and long experience ought to have qualified him to protect his own interests, seems to have been singularly unskilful and unlucky in his literary bargains. he was generally reputed the first english writer of his time. yet several writers of his time sold their copyrights for sums such as he never ventured to ask. to give a single instance, robertson received four thousand five hundred pounds for the history of charles v.; and it is no disrespect to the memory of robertson to say that the history of charles v. is both a less valuable and a less amusing book than the lives of the poets. . johnson was now in his seventy-second year. the infirmities of age were coming fast upon him. that inevitable event of which he never thought without horror was brought near to him; and his whole life was darkened by the shadow of death. he had often to pay the cruel price of longevity. every year he lost what could never be replaced. the strange dependents to whom he had given shelter, and to whom, in spite of their faults, he was strongly attached by habit, dropped off one by one; and, in the silence of his home, he regretted even the noise of their scolding matches. the kind and generous thrale was no more; and it would have been well if his wife had been laid beside him. but she survived to be the laughing-stock of those who had envied her, and to draw from the eyes of the old man who had loved her beyond anything in the world tears far more bitter than he would have shed over her grave. with some estimable and many agreeable qualities, she was not made to be independent. the control of a mind more steadfast than her own was necessary to her respectability. while she was restrained by her husband, a man of sense and firmness, indulgent to her taste in trifles, but always the undisputed master of his house, her worst offences had been impertinent jokes, white lies, and short fits of pettishness ending in sunny good humour. but he was gone; and she was left an opulent widow of forty, with strong sensibility, volatile fancy, and slender judgment. she soon fell in love with a music-master from brescia, in whom nobody but herself could discover anything to admire. her pride, and perhaps some better feelings, struggled hard against this degrading passion. but the struggle irritated her nerves, soured her temper, and at length endangered her health. conscious that her choice was one which johnson could not approve, she became desirous to escape from his inspection. her manner towards him changed. she was sometimes cold and sometimes petulant. she did not conceal her joy when he left streatham; she never pressed him to return; and, if he came unbidden, she received him in a manner which convinced him he was no longer a welcome guest. he took the very intelligible hints which she gave. he read, for the last time, a chapter of the greek testament in the library which had been formed by himself. in a solemn and tender prayer he commended the house and its inmates to the divine protection, and, with emotions which choked his voice and convulsed his powerful frame, left for ever that beloved home for the gloomy and desolate house behind fleet street, where the few and evil days which still remained to him were to run out. here, in june , he had a paralytic stroke, from which, however, he recovered, and which does not appear to have at all impaired his intellectual faculties. but other maladies came thick upon him. his asthma tormented him day and night. dropsical symptoms made their appearance. while sinking under a complication of diseases, he heard that the woman whose friendship had been the chief happiness of sixteen years of his life had married an italian fiddler; that all london was crying shame upon her; and that the newspapers and magazines were filled with allusions to the ephesian matron, and the two pictures in hamlet. he vehemently said that he would try to forget her existence. he never uttered her name. every memorial of her which met his eye he flung into the fire. she meanwhile fled from the laughter and hisses of her countrymen and countrywomen to a land where she was unknown, hastened across mount cenis, and learned, while passing a merry christmas of concerts and lemonade parties at milan, that the great man with whose name hers is inseparably associated had ceased to exist. . he had, in spite of much mental and much bodily affliction, clung vehemently to life. the feeling described in that fine but gloomy paper which closes the series of his idlers seemed to grow stronger in him as his last hour drew near. he fancied that he should be able to draw his breath more easily in a southern climate, and would probably have set out for rome and naples, but for his fear of the expense of the journey. that expense, indeed, he had the means of defraying; for he had laid up about two thousand pounds, the fruit of labours which had made the fortune of several publishers. but he was unwilling to break in upon this hoard, and he seems to have wished even to keep its existence a secret. some of his friends hoped that the government might be induced to increase his pension to six hundred pounds a year, but this hope was disappointed, and he resolved to stand one english winter more. that winter was his last. his legs grew weaker; his breath grew shorter; the fatal water gathered fast, in spite of incisions which he, courageous against pain, but timid against death, urged his surgeons to make deeper and deeper. though the tender care which had mitigated his sufferings during months of sickness at streatham was withdrawn, he was not left desolate. the ablest physicians and surgeons attended him, and refused to accept fees from him. burke parted from him with deep emotion. windham sate much in the sick-room, arranged the pillows, and sent his own servant to watch at night by the bed. frances burney, whom the old man had cherished with fatherly kindness, stood weeping at the door; while langton, whose piety eminently qualified him to be an adviser and comforter at such a time, received the last pressure of his friend's hand within. when at length the moment, dreaded through so many years, came close, the dark cloud passed away from johnson's mind. his temper became unusually patient and gentle; he ceased to think with terror of death, and of that which lies beyond death; and he spoke much of the mercy of god, and of the propitiation of christ. in this serene frame of mind he died on the th of december . he was laid, a week later, in westminster abbey, among the eminent men of whom he had been the historian,--cowley and denham, dryden and congreve, gay, prior, and addison. . since his death the popularity of his works--the lives of the poets, and, perhaps, the vanity of human wishes, excepted--has greatly diminished. his dictionary has been altered by editors till it can scarcely be called his. an allusion to his rambler or his idler is not readily apprehended in literary circles. the fame even of rasselas has grown somewhat dim. but, though the celebrity of the writings may have declined, the celebrity of the writer, strange to say, is as great as ever. boswell's book has done for him more than the best of his own books could do. the memory of other authors is kept alive by their works. but the memory of johnson keeps many of his works alive. the old philosopher is still among us in the brown coat with the metal buttons and the shirt which ought to be at wash, blinking, puffing, rolling his head, drumming with his fingers, tearing his meat like a tiger, and swallowing his tea in oceans. no human being who has been more than seventy years in the grave is so well known to us. and it is but just to say that our intimate acquaintance with what he would himself have called the anfractuosities of his intellect and of his temper serves only to strengthen our conviction that he was both a great and a good man. from macaulay's essay on croker's edition of boswell's life of johnson (_edinburgh review, september, _) . the life of johnson is assuredly a great, a very great work. homer is not more decidedly the first of heroic poets, shakspeare is not more decidedly the first of dramatists, demosthenes is not more decidedly the first of orators, than boswell is the first of biographers. he has no second. he has distanced all his competitors so decidedly that it is not worth while to place them. eclipse is first, and the rest nowhere. . we are not sure that there is in the whole history of the human intellect so strange a phænomenon as this book. many of the greatest men that ever lived have written biography. boswell was one of the smallest men that ever lived, and he has beaten them all. he was, if we are to give any credit to his own account or to the united testimony of all who knew him, a man of the meanest and feeblest intellect. johnson described him as a fellow who had missed his only chance of immortality by not having been alive when the dunciad was written. beauclerk used his name as a proverbial expression for a bore. he was the laughing-stock of the whole of that brilliant society which has owed to him the greater part of its fame. he was always laying himself at the feet of some eminent man, and begging to be spit upon and trampled upon. he was always earning some ridiculous nickname, and then "binding it as a crown unto him," not merely in metaphor, but literally. he exhibited himself, at the shakspeare jubilee, to all the crowd which filled stratford-on-avon, with a placard round his hat bearing the inscription of corsica boswell. in his tour he proclaimed to all the world that at edinburgh he was known by the appellation of paoli boswell. servile and impertinent, shallow and pedantic, a bigot and a sot, bloated with family pride, and eternally blustering about the dignity of a born gentleman, yet stooping to be a tale-bearer, an eavesdropper, a common butt in the taverns of london, so curious to know every body who was talked about, that, tory and high churchman as he was, he manoeuvred, we have been told, for an introduction to tom paine, so vain of the most childish distinctions, that when he had been to court, he drove to the office where his book was printing without changing his clothes, and summoned all the printer's devils to admire his new ruffles and sword; such was this man, and such he was content and proud to be. every thing which another man would have hidden, every thing the publication of which would have made another man hang himself, was matter of gay and clamorous exultation to his weak and diseased mind. what silly things he said, what bitter retorts he provoked, how at one place he was troubled with evil presentiments which came to nothing, how at another place, on waking from a drunken doze, he read the prayerbook and took a hair of the dog that had bitten him, how he went to see men hanged and came away maudlin, how he added five hundred pounds to the fortune of one of his babies because she was not scared at johnson's ugly face, how he was frightened out of his wits at sea, and how the sailors quieted him as they would have quieted a child, how tipsy he was at lady cork's one evening and how much his merriment annoyed the ladies, how impertinent he was to the duchess of argyle and with what stately contempt she put down his impertinence, how colonel macleod sneered to his face at his impudent obtrusiveness, how his father and the very wife of his bosom laughed and fretted at his fooleries; all these things he proclaimed to all the world, as if they had been subjects for pride and ostentatious rejoicing. all the caprices of his temper, all the illusions of his vanity, all his hypochondriac whimsies, all his castles in the air, he displayed with a cool self-complacency, a perfect unconsciousness that he was making a fool of himself, to which it is impossible to find a parallel in the whole history of mankind. he has used many people ill; but assuredly he has used nobody so ill as himself. . that such a man should have written one of the best books in the world is strange enough. but this is not all. many persons who have conducted themselves foolishly in active life, and whose conversation has indicated no superior powers of mind, have left us valuable works. goldsmith was very justly described by one of his contemporaries as an inspired idiot, and by another as a being "who wrote like an angel, and talked like poor poll." la fontaine was in society a mere simpleton. his blunders would not come in amiss among the stories of hierocles. but these men attained literary eminence in spite of their weaknesses. boswell attained it by reason of his weaknesses. if he had not been a great fool, he would never have been a great writer. without all the qualities which made him the jest and the torment of those among whom he lived, without the officiousness, the inquisitiveness, the effrontery, the toad-eating, the insensibility to all reproof, he never could have produced so excellent a book. he was a slave, proud of his servitude, a paul pry, convinced that his own curiosity and garrulity were virtues, an unsafe companion who never scrupled to repay the most liberal hospitality by the basest violation of confidence, a man without delicacy, without shame, without sense enough to know when he was hurting the feelings of others or when he was exposing himself to derision; and because he was all this, he has, in an important department of literature, immeasurably surpassed such writers as tacitus, clarendon, alfieri, and his own idol johnson. . of the talents which ordinarily raise men to eminence as writers, boswell had absolutely none. there is not in all his books a single remark of his own on literature, politics, religion, or society, which is not either commonplace or absurd. his dissertations on hereditary gentility, on the slave-trade, and on the entailing of landed estates, may serve as examples. to say that these passages are sophistical would be to pay them an extravagant compliment. they have no pretence to argument, or even to meaning. he has reported innumerable observations made by himself in the course of conversation. of those observations we do not remember one which is above the intellectual capacity of a boy of fifteen. he has printed many of his own letters, and in these letters he is always ranting or twaddling. logic, eloquence, wit, taste, all those things which are generally considered as making a book valuable, were utterly wanting to him. he had, indeed, a quick observation and a retentive memory. these qualities, if he had been a man of sense and virtue, would scarcely of themselves have sufficed to make him conspicuous; but, because he was a dunce, a parasite, and a coxcomb, they have made him immortal. . those parts of his book which, considered abstractedly, are most utterly worthless, are delightful when we read them as illustrations of the character of the writer. bad in themselves, they are good dramatically, like the nonsense of justice shallow, the clipped english of dr. caius, or the misplaced consonants of fluellen. of all confessors, boswell is the most candid. other men who have pretended to lay open their own hearts, rousseau, for example, and lord byron, have evidently written with a constant view to effect, and are to be then most distrusted when they seem to be most sincere. there is scarcely any man who would not rather accuse himself of great crimes and of dark and tempestuous passions, than proclaim all his little vanities and wild fancies. it would be easier to find a person who would avow actions like those of cæsar borgia or danton, than one who would publish a daydream like those of alnaschar and malvolio. those weaknesses which most men keep covered up in the most secret places of the mind, not to be disclosed to the eye of friendship or of love, were precisely the weaknesses which boswell paraded before all the world. he was perfectly frank, because the weakness of his understanding and the tumult of his spirits prevented him from knowing when he made himself ridiculous. his book resembles nothing so much as the conversation of the inmates of the palace of truth. . his fame is great; and it will, we have no doubt, be lasting; but it is fame of a peculiar kind, and indeed marvellously resembles infamy. we remember no other case in which the world has made so great a distinction between a book and its author. in general, the book and the author are considered as one. to admire the book is to admire the author. the case of boswell is an exception, we think the only exception, to this rule. his work is universally allowed to be interesting, instructive, eminently original: yet it has brought him nothing but contempt. all the world reads it: all the world delights in it: yet we do not remember ever to have read or ever to have heard any expression of respect and admiration for the man to whom we owe so much instruction and amusement. while edition after edition of his book was coming forth, his son, as mr. croker tells us, was ashamed of it, and hated to hear it mentioned. this feeling was natural and reasonable. sir alexander saw that, in proportion to the celebrity of the work, was the degradation of the author. the very editors of this unfortunate gentleman's books have forgotten their allegiance, and, like those puritan casuists who took arms by the authority of the king against his person, have attacked the writer while doing homage to the writings. mr. croker, for example, has published two thousand five hundred notes on the life of johnson, and yet scarcely ever mentions the biographer whose performance he has taken such pains to illustrate without some expression of contempt. . an ill-natured man boswell certainly was not. yet the malignity of the most malignant satirist could scarcely cut deeper than his thoughtless loquacity. having himself no sensibility to derision and contempt, he took it for granted that all others were equally callous. he was not ashamed to exhibit himself to the whole world as a common spy, a common tattler, a humble companion without the excuse of poverty, and to tell a hundred stories of his own pertness and folly, and of the insults which his pertness and folly brought upon him. it was natural that he should show little discretion in cases in which the feelings or the honour of others might be concerned. no man, surely, ever published such stories respecting persons whom he professed to love and revere. he would infallibly have made his hero as contemptible as he has made himself, had not his hero really possessed some moral and intellectual qualities of a very high order. the best proof that johnson was really an extraordinary man is that his character, instead of being degraded, has, on the whole, been decidedly raised by a work in which all his vices and weaknesses are exposed more unsparingly than they ever were exposed by churchill or by kenrick. . johnson grown old, johnson in the fulness of his fame and in the enjoyment of a competent fortune, is better known to us than any other man in history. every thing about him, his coat, his wig, his figure, his face, his scrofula, his st. vitus's dance, his rolling walk, his blinking eye, the outward signs which too clearly marked his approbation of his dinner, his insatiable appetite for fish-sauce and veal-pie with plums, his inextinguishable thirst for tea, his trick of touching the posts as he walked, his mysterious practice of treasuring up scraps of orange-peel, his morning slumbers, his midnight disputations, his contortions, his mutterings, his gruntings, his puffings, his vigorous, acute, and ready eloquence, his sarcastic wit, his vehemence, his insolence, his fits of tempestuous rage, his queer inmates, old mr. levett and blind mrs. williams, the cat hodge and the negro frank, all are as familiar to us as the objects by which we have been surrounded from childhood. but we have no minute information respecting those years of johnson's life during which his character and his manners became immutably fixed. we know him, not as he was known to the men of his own generation, but as he was known to men whose father he might have been. that celebrated club of which he was the most distinguished member contained few persons who could remember a time when his fame was not fully established and his habits completely formed. he had made himself a name in literature while reynolds and the wartons were still boys. he was about twenty years older than burke, goldsmith, and gerard hamilton, about thirty years older than gibbon, beauclerk, and langton, and about forty years older than lord stowell, sir william jones, and windham. boswell and mrs. thrale, the two writers from whom we derive most of our knowledge respecting him, never saw him till long after he was fifty years old, till most of his great works had become classical, and till the pension bestowed on him by the crown had placed him above poverty. of those eminent men who were his most intimate associates towards the close of his life, the only one, as far as we remember, who knew him during the first ten or twelve years of his residence in the capital, was david garrick; and it does not appear that, during those years, david garrick saw much of his fellow-townsman. . johnson came up to london precisely at the time when the condition of a man of letters was most miserable and degraded. it was a dark night between two sunny days. the age of patronage had passed away. the age of general curiosity and intelligence had not arrived. the number of readers is at present so great that a popular author may subsist in comfort and opulence on the profits of his works. in the reigns of william the third, of anne, and of george the first, even such men as congreve and addison would scarcely have been able to live like gentlemen by the mere sale of their writings. but the deficiency of the natural demand for literature was, at the close of the seventeenth and at the beginning of the eighteenth century, more than made up by artificial encouragement, by a vast system of bounties and premiums. there was, perhaps, never a time at which the rewards of literary merit were so splendid, at which men who could write well found such easy admittance into the most distinguished society, and to the highest honours of the state. the chiefs of both the great parties into which the kingdom was divided patronised literature with emulous munificence. congreve, when he had scarcely attained his majority, was rewarded for his first comedy with places which made him independent for life. smith, though his hippolytus and phædra failed, would have been consoled with three hundred a year but for his own folly. rowe was not only poet laureate, but also land-surveyor of the customs in the port of london, clerk of the council to the prince of wales, and secretary of the presentations to the lord chancellor. hughes was secretary to the commissions of the peace. ambrose philips was judge of the prerogative court in ireland. locke was commissioner of appeals and of the board of trade. newton was master of the mint. stepney and prior were employed in embassies of high dignity and importance. gay, who commenced life as an apprentice to a silk mercer, became a secretary of legation at five-and-twenty. it was to a poem on the death of charles the second, and to the city and country mouse, that montague owed his introduction into public life, his earldom, his garter, and his auditorship of the exchequer. swift, but for the unconquerable prejudice of the queen, would have been a bishop. oxford, with his white staff in his hand, passed through the crowd of his suitors to welcome parnell, when that ingenious writer deserted the whigs. steele was a commissioner of stamps and a member of parliament. arthur mainwaring was a commissioner of the customs, and auditor of the imprest. tickell was secretary to the lords justices of ireland. addison was secretary of state. . this liberal patronage was brought into fashion, as it seems, by the magnificent dorset, almost the only noble versifier in the court of charles the second who possessed talents for composition which were independent of the aid of a coronet. montague owed his elevation to the favour of dorset, and imitated through the whole course of his life the liberality to which he was himself so greatly indebted. the tory leaders, harley and bolingbroke in particular, vied with the chiefs of the whig party in zeal for the encouragement of letters. but soon after the accession of the house of hanover a change took place. the supreme power passed to a man who cared little for poetry or eloquence. the importance of the house of commons was constantly on the increase. the government was under the necessity of bartering for parliamentary support much of that patronage which had been employed in fostering literary merit; and walpole was by no means inclined to divert any part of the fund of corruption to purposes which he considered as idle. he had eminent talents for government and for debate. but he had paid little attention to books, and felt little respect for authors. one of the coarse jokes of his friend, sir charles hanbury williams, was far more pleasing to him than thomson's seasons or richardson's pamela. he had observed that some of the distinguished writers whom the favour of halifax had turned into statesmen had been mere encumbrances to their party, dawdlers in office, and mutes in parliament. during the whole course of his administration, therefore, he scarcely befriended a single man of genius. the best writers of the age gave all their support to the opposition, and contributed to excite that discontent which, after plunging the nation into a foolish and unjust war, overthrew the minister to make room for men less able and equally immoral. the opposition could reward its eulogists with little more than promises and caresses. st. james's would give nothing: leicester house had nothing to give. . thus, at the time when johnson commenced his literary career, a writer had little to hope from the patronage of powerful individuals. the patronage of the public did not yet furnish the means of comfortable subsistence. the prices paid by booksellers to authors were so low that a man of considerable talents and unremitting industry could do little more than provide for the day which was passing over him. the lean kine had eaten up the fat kine. the thin and withered ears had devoured the good ears. the season of rich harvests was over, and the period of famine had begun. all that is squalid and miserable might now be summed up in the word poet. that word denoted a creature dressed like a scarecrow, familiar with compters and spunging-houses, and perfectly qualified to decide on the comparative merits of the common side in the king's bench prison and of mount scoundrel in the fleet. even the poorest pitied him; and they well might pity him. for if their condition was equally abject, their aspirings were not equally high, nor their sense of insult equally acute. to lodge in a garret up four pair of stairs, to dine in a cellar among footmen out of place, to translate ten hours a day for the wages of a ditcher, to be hunted by bailiffs from one haunt of beggary and pestilence to another, from grub street to st. george's fields, and from st. george's fields to the alleys behind st. martin's church, to sleep on a bulk in june and amidst the ashes of a glass-house in december, to die in a hospital and to be buried in a parish vault, was the fate of more than one writer who, if he had lived thirty years earlier, would have been admitted to the sittings of the kitcat or the scriblerus club, would have sat in parliament, and would have been intrusted with embassies to the high allies; who, if he had lived in our time, would have found encouragement scarcely less munificent in albemarle street or in paternoster row. . as every climate has its peculiar diseases, so every walk of life has its peculiar temptations. the literary character, assuredly, has always had its share of faults, vanity, jealousy, morbid sensibility. to these faults were now superadded the faults which are commonly found in men whose livelihood is precarious, and whose principles are exposed to the trial of severe distress. all the vices of the gambler and of the beggar were blended with those of the author. the prizes in the wretched lottery of book-making were scarcely less ruinous than the blanks. if good fortune came, it came in such a manner that it was almost certain to be abused. after months of starvation and despair, a full third night or a well-received dedication filled the pocket of the lean, ragged, unwashed poet with guineas. he hastened to enjoy those luxuries with the images of which his mind had been haunted while he was sleeping amidst the cinders and eating potatoes at the irish ordinary in shoe lane. a week of taverns soon qualified him for another year of night-cellars. such was the life of savage, of boyse, and of a crowd of others. sometimes blazing in gold-laced hats and waistcoats; sometimes lying in bed because their coats had gone to pieces, or wearing paper cravats because their linen was in pawn; sometimes drinking champagne and tokay with betty careless; sometimes standing at the window of an eating-house in porridge island, to snuff up the scent of what they could not afford to taste; they knew luxury; they knew beggary; but they never knew comfort. these men were irreclaimable. they looked on a regular and frugal life with the same aversion which an old gipsy or a mohawk hunter feels for a stationary abode, and for the restraints and securities of civilised communities. they were as untameable, as much wedded to their desolate freedom, as the wild ass. they could no more be broken in to the offices of social man than the unicorn could be trained to serve and abide by the crib. it was well if they did not, like beasts of a still fiercer race, tear the hands which ministered to their necessities. to assist them was impossible; and the most benevolent of mankind at length became weary of giving relief which was dissipated with the wildest profusion as soon as it had been received. if a sum was bestowed on the wretched adventurer, such as, properly husbanded, might have supplied him for six months, it was instantly spent in strange freaks of sensuality, and before forty-eight hours had elapsed, the poet was again pestering all his acquaintance for twopence to get a plate of shin of beef at a subterraneous cook-shop. if his friends gave him an asylum in their houses, those houses were forthwith turned into bagnios and taverns. all order was destroyed; all business was suspended. the most good-natured host began to repent of his eagerness to serve a man of genius in distress when he heard his guest roaring for fresh punch at five o'clock in the morning. . a few eminent writers were more fortunate. pope had been raised above poverty by the active patronage which, in his youth, both the great political parties had extended to his homer. young had received the only pension ever bestowed, to the best of our recollection, by sir robert walpole, as the reward of mere literary merit. one or two of the many poets who attached themselves to the opposition, thomson in particular and mallet, obtained, after much severe suffering, the means of subsistence from their political friends. richardson, like a man of sense, kept his shop; and his shop kept him, which his novels, admirable as they are, would scarcely have done. but nothing could be more deplorable than the state even of the ablest men, who at that time depended for subsistence on their writings. johnson, collins, fielding, and thomson, were certainly four of the most distinguished persons that england produced during the eighteenth century. it is well known that they were all four arrested for debt. . into calamities and difficulties such as these johnson plunged in his twenty-eighth year. from that time till he was three or four and fifty, we have little information respecting him; little, we mean, compared with the full and accurate information which we possess respecting his proceedings and habits towards the close of his life. he emerged at length from cock-lofts and sixpenny ordinaries into the society of the polished and the opulent. his fame was established. a pension sufficient for his wants had been conferred on him: and he came forth to astonish a generation with which he had almost as little in common as with frenchmen or spaniards. . in his early years he had occasionally seen the great; but he had seen them as a beggar. he now came among them as a companion. the demand for amusement and instruction had, during the course of twenty years, been gradually increasing. the price of literary labour had risen; and those rising men of letters with whom johnson was henceforth to associate were for the most part persons widely different from those who had walked about with him all night in the streets for want of a lodging. burke, robertson, the wartons, gray, mason, gibbon, adam smith, beattie, sir william jones, goldsmith, and churchill, were the most distinguished writers of what may be called the second generation of the johnsonian age. of these men churchill was the only one in whom we can trace the stronger lineaments of that character which, when johnson first came up to london, was common among authors. of the rest, scarcely any had felt the pressure of severe poverty. almost all had been early admitted into the most respectable society on an equal footing. they were men of quite a different species from the dependents of curll and osborne. . johnson came among them the solitary specimen of a past age, the last survivor of the genuine race of grub street hacks; the last of that generation of authors whose abject misery and whose dissolute manners had furnished inexhaustible matter to the satirical genius of pope. from nature he had received an uncouth figure, a diseased constitution, and an irritable temper. the manner in which the earlier years of his manhood had been passed had given to his demeanour, and even to his moral character, some peculiarities appalling to the civilised beings who were the companions of his old age. the perverse irregularity of his hours, the slovenliness of his person, his fits of strenuous exertion, interrupted by long intervals of sluggishness, his strange abstinence, and his equally strange voracity, his active benevolence, contrasted with the constant rudeness and the occasional ferocity of his manners in society, made him, in the opinion of those with whom he lived during the last twenty years of his life, a complete original. an original he was, undoubtedly, in some respects. but if we possessed full information concerning those who shared his early hardships, we should probably find that what we call his singularities of manner were, for the most part, failings which he had in common with the class to which he belonged. he ate at streatham park as he had been used to eat behind the screen at st. john's gate, when he was ashamed to show his ragged clothes. he ate as it was natural that a man should eat, who, during a great part of his life, had passed the morning in doubt whether he should have food for the afternoon. the habits of his early life had accustomed him to bear privation with fortitude, but not to taste pleasure with moderation. he could fast; but, when he did not fast, he tore his dinner like a famished wolf, with the veins swelling on his forehead, and the perspiration running down his cheeks. he scarcely ever took wine. but when he drank it, he drank it greedily and in large tumblers. these were, in fact, mitigated symptoms of that same moral disease which raged with such deadly malignity in his friends savage and boyse. the roughness and violence which he showed in society were to be expected from a man whose temper, not naturally gentle, had been long tried by the bitterest calamities, by the want of meat, of fire, and of clothes, by the importunity of creditors, by the insolence of booksellers, by the derision of fools, by the insincerity of patrons, by that bread which is the bitterest of all food, by those stairs which are the most toilsome of all paths, by that deferred hope which makes the heart sick. through all these things the ill-dressed, coarse, ungainly pedant had struggled manfully up to eminence and command. it was natural that, in the exercise of his power, he should be "eo immitior, quia toleraverat," that, though his heart was undoubtedly generous and humane, his demeanour in society should be harsh and despotic. for severe distress he had sympathy, and not only sympathy, but munificent relief. but for the suffering which a harsh world inflicts upon a delicate mind he had no pity; for it was a kind of suffering which he could scarcely conceive. he would carry home on his shoulders a sick and starving girl from the streets. he turned his house into a place of refuge for a crowd of wretched old creatures who could find no other asylum; nor could all their peevishness and ingratitude weary out his benevolence. but the pangs of wounded vanity seemed to him ridiculous; and he scarcely felt sufficient compassion even for the pangs of wounded affection. he had seen and felt so much of sharp misery, that he was not affected by paltry vexations; and he seemed to think that every body ought to be as much hardened to those vexations as himself. he was angry with boswell for complaining of a headache, with mrs. thrale for grumbling about the dust on the road, or the smell of the kitchen. these were, in his phrase, "foppish lamentations," which people ought to be ashamed to utter in a world so full of sin and sorrow. goldsmith crying because the good-natured man had failed, inspired him with no pity. though his own health was not good, he detested and despised valetudinarians. pecuniary losses, unless they reduced the loser absolutely to beggary, moved him very little. people whose hearts had been softened by prosperity might weep, he said, for such events; but all that could be expected of a plain man was not to laugh. he was not much moved even by the spectacle of lady tavistock dying of a broken heart for the loss of her lord. such grief he considered as a luxury reserved for the idle and the wealthy. a washerwoman, left a widow with nine small children, would not have sobbed herself to death. . a person who troubled himself so little about small or sentimental grievances was not likely to be very attentive to the feelings of others in the ordinary intercourse of society. he could not understand how a sarcasm or a reprimand could make any man really unhappy. "my dear doctor," said he to goldsmith, "what harm does it do to a man to call him holofernes?" "pooh, ma'am," he exclaimed to mrs. carter, "who is the worse for being talked of uncharitably?" politeness has been well defined as benevolence in small things. johnson was impolite, not because he wanted benevolence, but because small things appeared smaller to him than to people who had never known what it was to live for fourpence halfpenny a day. . the characteristic peculiarity of his intellect was the union of great powers with low prejudices. if we judged of him by the best parts of his mind, we should place him almost as high as he was placed by the idolatry of boswell; if by the worst parts of his mind, we should place him even below boswell himself. where he was not under the influence of some strange scruple, or some domineering passion, which prevented him from boldly and fairly investigating a subject, he was a wary and acute reasoner, a little too much inclined to scepticism, and a little too fond of paradox. no man was less likely to be imposed upon by fallacies in argument or by exaggerated statements of fact. but if, while he was beating down sophisms and exposing false testimony, some childish prejudices, such as would excite laughter in a well-managed nursery, came across him, he was smitten as if by enchantment. his mind dwindled away under the spell from gigantic elevation to dwarfish littleness. those who had lately been admiring its amplitude and its force were now as much astonished at its strange narrowness and feebleness as the fisherman in the arabian tale, when he saw the genie, whose stature had overshadowed the whole sea-coast, and whose might seemed equal to a contest with armies, contract himself to the dimensions of his small prison, and lie there the helpless slave of the charm of solomon. . johnson was in the habit of sifting with extreme severity the evidence for all stories which were merely odd. but when they were not only odd but miraculous, his severity relaxed. he began to be credulous precisely at the point where the most credulous people begin to be sceptical. it is curious to observe, both in his writings and in his conversation, the contrast between the disdainful manner in which he rejects unauthenticated anecdotes, even when they are consistent with the general laws of nature, and the respectful manner in which he mentions the wildest stories relating to the invisible world. a man who told him of a waterspout or a meteoric stone generally had the lie direct given him for his pains. a man who told him of a prediction or a dream wonderfully accomplished was sure of a courteous hearing. "johnson," observed hogarth, "like king david, says in his haste that all men are liars." "his incredulity," says mrs. thrale, "amounted almost to disease." she tells us how he browbeat a gentleman, who gave him an account of a hurricane in the west indies, and a poor quaker who related some strange circumstance about the red-hot balls fired at the siege of gibraltar. "it is not so. it cannot be true. don't tell that story again. you cannot think how poor a figure you make in telling it." he once said, half jestingly we suppose, that for six months he refused to credit the fact of the earthquake at lisbon, and that he still believed the extent of the calamity to be greatly exaggerated. yet he related with a grave face how old mr. cave of st. john's gate saw a ghost, and how this ghost was something of a shadowy being. he went himself on a ghost hunt to cock lane, and was angry with john wesley for not following up another scent of the same kind with proper spirit and perseverance. he rejects the celtic genealogies and poems without the least hesitation; yet he declares himself willing to believe the stories of the second sight. if he had examined the claims of the highland seers with half the severity with which he sifted the evidence for the genuineness of fingal, he would, we suspect, have come away from scotland with a mind fully made up. in his lives of the poets, we find that he is unwilling to give credit to the accounts of lord roscommon's early proficiency in his studies; but he tells with great solemnity an absurd romance about some intelligence preternaturally impressed on the mind of that nobleman. he avows himself to be in great doubt about the truth of the story, and ends by warning his readers not wholly to slight such impressions. . many of his sentiments on religious subjects are worthy of a liberal and enlarged mind. he could discern clearly enough the folly and meanness of all bigotry except his own. when he spoke of the scruples of the puritans, he spoke like a person who had really obtained an insight into the divine philosophy of the new testament, and who considered christianity as a noble scheme of government, tending to promote the happiness and to elevate the moral nature of man. the horror which the sectaries felt for cards, christmas ale, plum-porridge, mince-pies, and dancing-bears, excited his contempt. to the arguments urged by some very worthy people against showy dress he replied with admirable sense and spirit, "let us not be found, when our master calls us, stripping the lace off our waistcoats, but the spirit of contention from our souls and tongues. alas! sir, the man who cannot get to heaven in a green coat will not find his way thither the sooner in a grey one." yet he was himself under the tyranny of scruples as unreasonable as those of hudibras or ralpho, and carried his zeal for ceremonies and for ecclesiastical dignities to lengths altogether inconsistent with reason or with christian charity. he has gravely noted down in his diary that he once committed the sin of drinking coffee on good friday. in scotland, he thought it his duty to pass several months without joining in public worship, solely because the ministers of the kirk had not been ordained by bishops. his mode of estimating the piety of his neighbours was somewhat singular. "campbell," said he, "is a good man, a pious man. i am afraid he has not been in the inside of a church for many years; but he never passes a church without pulling off his hat: this shows he has good principles." spain and sicily must surely contain many pious robbers and well-principled assassins. johnson could easily see that a roundhead who named all his children after solomon's singers, and talked in the house of commons about seeking the lord, might be an unprincipled villain whose religious mummeries only aggravated his guilt. but a man who took off his hat when he passed a church episcopally consecrated must be a good man, a pious man, a man of good principles. johnson could easily see that those persons who looked on a dance or a laced waistcoat as sinful, deemed most ignobly of the attributes of god and of the ends of revelation. but with what a storm of invective he would have overwhelmed any man who had blamed him for celebrating the redemption of mankind with sugarless tea and butterless buns. . nobody spoke more contemptuously of the cant of patriotism. nobody saw more clearly the error of those who regarded liberty, not as a means, but as an end, and who proposed to themselves, as the object of their pursuit, the prosperity of the state as distinct from the prosperity of the individuals who compose the state. his calm and settled opinion seems to have been that forms of government have little or no influence on the happiness of society. this opinion, erroneous as it is, ought at least to have preserved him from all intemperance on political questions. it did not, however, preserve him from the lowest, fiercest, and most absurd extravagances of party-spirit, from rants which, in every thing but the diction, resembled those of squire western. he was, as a politician, half ice and half fire. on the side of his intellect he was a mere pococurante, far too apathetic about public affairs, far too sceptical as to the good or evil tendency of any form of polity. his passions, on the contrary, were violent even to slaying against all who leaned to whiggish principles. the well-known lines which he inserted in goldsmith's traveller express what seems to have been his deliberate judgment: "how small of all that human hearts endure that part which kings or laws can cause or cure!" he had previously put expressions very similar into the mouth of rasselas. it is amusing to contrast these passages with the torrents of raving abuse which he poured forth against the long parliament and the american congress. in one of the conversations reported by boswell this inconsistency displays itself in the most ludicrous manner. . "sir adam ferguson," says boswell, "suggested that luxury corrupts a people, and destroys the spirit of liberty. johnson: 'sir, that is all visionary. i would not give half a guinea to live under one form of government rather than another. it is of no moment to the happiness of an individual. sir, the danger of the abuse of power is nothing to a private man. what frenchman is prevented passing his life as he pleases?' sir adam: 'but, sir, in the british constitution it is surely of importance to keep up a spirit in the people, so as to preserve a balance against the crown.' johnson: 'sir, i perceive you are a vile whig. why all this childish jealousy of the power of the crown? the crown has not power enough.'" . one of the old philosophers, lord bacon tells us, used to say that life and death were just the same to him. "why, then," said an objector, "do you not kill yourself?" the philosopher answered, "because it is just the same." if the difference between two forms of government be not worth half a guinea, it is not easy to see how whiggism can be viler than toryism, or how the crown can have too little power. if the happiness of individuals is not affected by political abuses, zeal for liberty is doubtless ridiculous. but zeal for monarchy must be equally so. no person would have been more quick-sighted than johnson to such a contradiction as this in the logic of an antagonist. . the judgments which johnson passed on books were, in his own time, regarded with superstitious veneration, and, in our time, are generally treated with indiscriminate contempt. they are the judgments of a strong but enslaved understanding. the mind of the critic was hedged round by an uninterrupted fence of prejudices and superstitions. within his narrow limits, he displayed a vigour and an activity which ought to have enabled him to clear the barrier that confined him. . how it chanced that a man who reasoned on his premises so ably, should assume his premises so foolishly, is one of the great mysteries of human nature. the same inconsistency may be observed in the schoolmen of the middle ages. those writers show so much acuteness and force of mind in arguing on their wretched data, that a modern reader is perpetually at a loss to comprehend how such minds came by such data. not a flaw in the superstructure of the theory which they are rearing escapes their vigilance. yet they are blind to the obvious unsoundness of the foundation. it is the same with some eminent lawyers. their legal arguments are intellectual prodigies, abounding with the happiest analogies and the most refined distinctions. the principles of their arbitrary science being once admitted, the statute-book and the reports being once assumed as the foundations of reasoning, these men must be allowed to be perfect masters of logic. but if a question arises as to the postulates on which their whole system rests, if they are called upon to vindicate the fundamental maxims of that system which they have passed their lives in studying, these very men often talk the language of savages or of children. those who have listened to a man of this class in his own court, and who have witnessed the skill with which he analyses and digests a vast mass of evidence, or reconciles a crowd of precedents which at first sight seem contradictory, scarcely know him again when, a few hours later, they hear him speaking on the other side of westminster hall in his capacity of legislator. they can scarcely believe that the paltry quirks which are faintly heard through a storm of coughing, and which do not impose on the plainest country gentleman, can proceed from the same sharp and vigorous intellect which had excited their admiration under the same roof, and on the same day. . johnson decided literary questions like a lawyer, not like a legislator. he never examined foundations where a point was already ruled. his whole code of criticism rested on pure assumption, for which he sometimes quoted a precedent or an authority, but rarely troubled himself to give a reason drawn from the nature of things. he took it for granted that the kind of poetry which flourished in his own time, which he had been accustomed to hear praised from his childhood, and which he had himself written with success, was the best kind of poetry. in his biographical work he has repeatedly laid it down as an undeniable proposition that during the latter part of the seventeenth century, and the earlier part of the eighteenth, english poetry had been in a constant progress of improvement. waller, denham, dryden, and pope, had been, according to him, the great reformers. he judged of all works of the imagination by the standard established among his own contemporaries. though he allowed homer to have been a greater man than virgil, he seems to have thought the Æneid a greater poem than the iliad. indeed he well might have thought so; for he preferred pope's iliad to homer's. he pronounced that, after hoole's translation of tasso, fairfax's would hardly be reprinted. he could see no merit in our fine old english ballads, and always spoke with the most provoking contempt of percy's fondness for them. of the great original works of imagination which appeared during his time, richardson's novels alone excited his admiration. he could see little or no merit in tom jones, in gulliver's travels, or in tristram shandy. to thomson's castle of indolence, he vouchsafed only a line of cold commendation, of commendation much colder than what he has bestowed on the creation of that portentous bore, sir richard blackmore. gray was, in his dialect, a barren rascal. churchill was a blockhead. the contempt which he felt for the trash of macpherson was indeed just; but it was, we suspect, just by chance. he despised the fingal for the very reason which led many men of genius to admire it. he despised it, not because it was essentially commonplace, but because it had a superficial air of originality. . he was undoubtedly an excellent judge of compositions fashioned on his own principles. but when a deeper philosophy was required, when he undertook to pronounce judgment on the works of those great minds which "yield homage only to eternal laws," his failure was ignominious. he criticised pope's epitaphs excellently. but his observations on shakespeare's plays and milton's poems seem to us for the most part as wretched as if they had been written by rymer himself, whom we take to have been the worst critic that ever lived. . some of johnson's whims on literary subjects can be compared only to that strange nervous feeling which made him uneasy if he had not touched every post between the mitre tavern and his own lodgings. his preference of latin epitaphs to english epitaphs is an instance. an english epitaph, he said, would disgrace smollett. he declared that he would not pollute the walls of westminster abbey with an english epitaph on goldsmith. what reason there can be for celebrating a british writer in latin, which there was not for covering the roman arches of triumph with greek inscriptions, or for commemorating the deeds of the heroes of thermopylæ in egyptian hieroglyphics, we are utterly unable to imagine. . on men and manners, at least on the men and manners of a particular place and a particular age, johnson had certainly looked with a most observant and discriminating eye. his remarks on the education of children, on marriage, on the economy of families, on the rules of society, are always striking, and generally sound. in his writings, indeed, the knowledge of life which he possessed in an eminent degree is very imperfectly exhibited. like those unfortunate chiefs of the middle ages who were suffocated by their own chain-mail and cloth of gold, his maxims perish under that load of words which was designed for their defence and their ornament. but it is clear from the remains of his conversation, that he had more of that homely wisdom which nothing but experience and observation can give than any writer since the time of swift. if he had been content to write as he talked, he might have left books on the practical art of living superior to the directions to servants. . yet even his remarks on society, like his remarks on literature, indicate a mind at least as remarkable for narrowness as for strength. he was no master of the great science of human nature. he had studied, not the genus man, but the species londoner. nobody was ever so thoroughly conversant with all the forms of life and all the shades of moral and intellectual character which were to be seen from islington to the thames, and from hyde-park corner to mile-end green. but his philosophy stopped at the first turnpike-gate. of the rural life of england he knew nothing; and he took it for granted that every body who lived in the country was either stupid or miserable. "country gentlemen," said he, "must be unhappy; for they have not enough to keep their lives in motion"; as if all those peculiar habits and associations which made fleet street and charing cross the finest views in the world to himself had been essential parts of human nature. of remote countries and past times he talked with wild and ignorant presumption. "the athenians of the age of demosthenes," he said to mrs. thrale, "were a people of brutes, a barbarous people." in conversation with sir adam ferguson he used similar language. "the boasted athenians," he said, "were barbarians. the mass of every people must be barbarous where there is no printing." the fact was this: he saw that a londoner who could not read was a very stupid and brutal fellow: he saw that great refinement of taste and activity of intellect were rarely found in a londoner who had not read much; and, because it was by means of books that people acquired almost all their knowledge in the society with which he was acquainted, he concluded, in defiance of the strongest and clearest evidence, that the human mind can be cultivated by means of books alone. an athenian citizen might possess very few volumes; and the largest library to which he had access might be much less valuable than johnson's bookcase in bolt court. but the athenian might pass every morning in conversation with socrates, and might hear pericles speak four or five times every month. he saw the plays of sophocles and aristophanes: he walked amidst the friezes of phidias and the paintings of zeuxis: he knew by heart the choruses of Æschylus: he heard the rhapsodist at the corner of the street reciting the shield of achilles or the death of argus: he was a legislator, conversant with high questions of alliance, revenue, and war: he was a soldier, trained under a liberal and generous discipline: he was a judge, compelled every day to weigh the effect of opposite arguments. these things were in themselves an education, an education eminently fitted, not, indeed, to form exact or profound thinkers, but to give quickness to the perceptions, delicacy to the taste, fluency to the expression, and politeness to the manners. all this was overlooked. an athenian who did not improve his mind by reading was, in johnson's opinion, much such a person as a cockney who made his mark, much such a person as black frank before he went to school, and far inferior to a parish clerk or a printer's devil. . johnson's friends have allowed that he carried to a ridiculous extreme his unjust contempt for foreigners. he pronounced the french to be a very silly people, much behind us, stupid, ignorant creatures. and this judgment he formed after having been at paris about a month, during which he would not talk french, for fear of giving the natives an advantage over him in conversation. he pronounced them, also, to be an indelicate people, because a french footman touched the sugar with his fingers. that ingenious and amusing traveller, m. simond, has defended his countrymen very successfully against johnson's accusation, and has pointed out some english practices which, to an impartial spectator, would seem at least as inconsistent with physical cleanliness and social decorum as those which johnson so bitterly reprehended. to the sage, as boswell loves to call him, it never occurred to doubt that there must be something eternally and immutably good in the usages to which he had been accustomed. in fact, johnson's remarks on society beyond the bills of mortality, are generally of much the same kind with those of honest tom dawson, the english footman in dr. moore's zeluco. "suppose the king of france has no sons, but only a daughter, then, when the king dies, this here daughter, according to that there law, cannot be made queen, but the next near relative, provided he is a man, is made king, and not the last king's daughter, which, to be sure, is very unjust. the french foot-guards are dressed in blue, and all the marching regiments in white, which has a very foolish appearance for soldiers; and as for blue regimentals, it is only fit for the blue horse or the artillery." . johnson's visit to the hebrides introduced him to a state of society completely new to him; and a salutary suspicion of his own deficiencies seems on that occasion to have crossed his mind for the first time. he confessed, in the last paragraph of his journey, that his thoughts on national manners were the thoughts of one who had seen but little, of one who had passed his time almost wholly in cities. this feeling, however, soon passed away. it is remarkable that to the last he entertained a fixed contempt for all those modes of life and those studies which tend to emancipate the mind from the prejudices of a particular age or a particular nation. of foreign travel and of history he spoke with the fierce and boisterous contempt of ignorance. "what does a man learn by travelling? is beauclerk the better for travelling? what did lord charlemont learn in his travels, except that there was a snake in one of the pyramids of egypt?" history was, in his opinion, to use the fine expression of lord plunkett, an old almanack: historians could, as he conceived, claim no higher dignity than that of almanack-makers; and his favourite historians were those who, like lord hailes, aspired to no higher dignity. he always spoke with contempt of robertson. hume he would not even read. he affronted one of his friends for talking to him about catiline's conspiracy, and declared that he never desired to hear of the punic war again as long as he lived. . assuredly one fact which does not directly affect our own interests, considered in itself, is no better worth knowing than another fact. the fact that there is a snake in a pyramid, or the fact that hannibal crossed the alps, are in themselves as unprofitable to us as the fact that there is a green blind in a particular house in threadneedle street, or the fact that a mr. smith comes into the city every morning on the top of one of the blackwall stages. but it is certain that those who will not crack the shell of history will never get at the kernel. johnson, with hasty arrogance, pronounced the kernel worthless, because he saw no value in the shell. the real use of travelling to distant countries and of studying the annals of past times is to preserve men from the contraction of mind which those can hardly escape whose whole communion is with one generation and one neighbourhood, who arrive at conclusions by means of an induction not sufficiently copious, and who therefore constantly confound exceptions with rules, and accidents with essential properties. in short, the real use of travelling and of studying history is to keep men from being what tom dawson was in fiction, and samuel johnson in reality. . johnson, as mr. burke most justly observed, appears far greater in boswell's books than in his own. his conversation appears to have been quite equal to his writings in matter, and far superior to them in manner. when he talked, he clothed his wit and his sense in forcible and natural expressions. as soon as he took his pen in his hand to write for the public, his style became systematically vicious. all his books are written in a learned language, in a language which nobody hears from his mother or his nurse, in a language in which nobody ever quarrels, or drives bargains, or makes love, in a language in which nobody ever thinks. it is clear that johnson himself did not think in the dialect in which he wrote. the expressions which came first to his tongue were simple, energetic, and picturesque. when he wrote for publication he did his sentences out of english into johnsonese. his letters from the hebrides to mrs. thrale are the original of that work of which the journey to the hebrides is the translation; and it is amusing to compare the two versions. "when we were taken up stairs," says he in one of his letters, "a dirty fellow bounced out of the bed on which one of us was to lie." this incident is recorded in the journey as follows: "out of one of the beds on which we were to repose started up, at our entrance, a man black as a cyclops from the forge." sometimes johnson translated aloud. "the rehearsal," he said, very unjustly, "has not wit enough to keep it sweet"; then, after a pause, "it has not vitality enough to preserve it from putrefaction." . mannerism is pardonable, and is sometimes even agreeable, when the manner, though vicious, is natural. few readers, for example, would be willing to part with the mannerism of milton or of burke. but a mannerism which does not sit easy on the mannerist, which has been adopted on principle, and which can be sustained only by constant effort, is always offensive. and such is the mannerism of johnson. . the characteristic faults of his style are so familiar to all our readers, and have been so often burlesqued, that it is almost superfluous to point them out. it is well known that he made less use than any other eminent writer of those strong plain words, anglo-saxon or norman-french, of which the roots lie in the inmost depths of our language; and that he felt a vicious partiality for terms which, long after our own speech had been fixed, were borrowed from the greek and latin, and which therefore, even when lawfully naturalised, must be considered as born aliens, not entitled to rank with the king's english. his constant practice of padding out a sentence with useless epithets, till it became as stiff as the bust of an exquisite, his antithetical forms of expression, constantly employed even where there is no opposition in the ideas expressed, his big words wasted on little things, his harsh inversions, so widely different from those graceful and easy inversions which give variety, spirit, and sweetness to the expression of our great old writers, all these peculiarities have been imitated by his admirers and parodied by his assailants, till the public has become sick of the subject. . goldsmith said to him, very wittily and very justly, "if you were to write a fable about little fishes, doctor, you would make the little fishes talk like whales." no man surely ever had so little talent for personation as johnson. whether he wrote in the character of a disappointed legacy-hunter or an empty town fop, of a crazy virtuoso or a flippant coquette, he wrote in the same pompous and unbending style. his speech, like sir piercy shafton's euphuistic eloquence, bewrayed him under every disguise. euphelia and rhodoclea talk as finely as imlac the poet, or seged, emperor of ethiopia. the gay cornelia describes her reception at the country-house of her relations in such terms as these: "i was surprised, after the civilities of my first reception, to find, instead of the leisure and tranquillity which a rural life always promises, and, if well conducted, might always afford, a confused wildness of care, and a tumultuous hurry of diligence, by which every face was clouded, and every motion agitated." the gentle tranquilla informs us, that she "had not passed the earlier part of life without the flattery of courtship, and the joys of triumph; but had danced the round of gaiety amidst the murmurs of envy and the gratulations of applause, had been attended from pleasure to pleasure by the great, the sprightly, and the vain, and had seen her regard solicited by the obsequiousness of gallantry, the gaiety of wit, and the timidity of love." surely sir john falstaff himself did not wear his petticoats with a worse grace. the reader may well cry out, with honest sir hugh evans, "i like not when a 'oman has a great peard: i spy a great peard under her muffler."[ ] . we had something more to say. but our article is already too long; and we must close it. we would fain part in good humour from the hero, from the biographer, and even from the editor, who, ill as he has performed his task, has at least this claim to our gratitude, that he has induced us to read boswell's book again. as we close it, the club-room is before us, and the table on which stands the omelet for nugent, and the lemons for johnson. there are assembled those heads which live for ever on the canvass of reynolds. there are the spectacles of burke and the tall thin form of langton, the courtly sneer of beauclerk, and the beaming smile of garrick, gibbon tapping his snuff-box, and sir joshua with his trumpet in his ear. in the foreground is that strange figure which is as familiar to us as the figures of those among whom we have been brought up, the gigantic body, the huge massy face, seamed with the scars of disease, the brown coat, the black worsted stockings, the grey wig with the scorched foretop, the dirty hands, the nails bitten and pared to the quick. we see the eyes and mouth moving with convulsive twitches; we see the heavy form rolling; we hear it puffing; and then comes the "why, sir!" and the "what then, sir?" and the "no, sir!" and the "you don't see your way through the question, sir!" . what a singular destiny has been that of this remarkable man! to be regarded in his own age as a classic, and in ours as a companion. to receive from his contemporaries that full homage which men of genius have in general received only from posterity! to be more intimately known to posterity than other men are known to their contemporaries! that kind of fame which is commonly the most transient is, in his case, the most durable. the reputation of those writings, which he probably expected to be immortal, is every day fading; while those peculiarities of manner and that careless table-talk, the memory of which, he probably thought, would die with him, are likely to be remembered as long as the english language is spoken in any quarter of the globe. notes =page .= line . =lichfield.= observe how near lichfield comes to being in the exact center of england. = = - . =the midland counties.= as you run your eye over the map, what counties should you naturally include under this head? in what county is lichfield? = = . =oracle.= "johnson, the lichfield librarian, is now here; he propagates learning all over this diocese, and advanceth knowledge to its just height; all the clergy here are his pupils, and suck all they have from him."--from a letter written by rev. george plaxton, quoted by boswell. = = - . =a strong religious and political sympathy.= macaulay's use of the article would lead us to think that the two kinds of sympathy were very closely connected. michael johnson was a member of the established church of england, and at heart a believer in the "divine right" kings. the student who is not familiar with the history of this period will do well to look up _jacobite_ in brewer's _historic note-book_ and then to read in some brief history an account of the _sovereigns in possession_ who followed james ii,--william and mary ( - ) and anne ( - ). boswell says, "he no doubt had an early attachment to the house of stuart; but his zeal had cooled as his reason strengthened." = = . =in the child.= pause to take the glimpse ahead which this sentence gives. the construction helps one to remember the three kinds of peculiarities and the order in which they are mentioned. = = . =augustan delicacy of taste.= you may read in harper's _dictionary of classical literature and antiquities_, in the article on augustus cæsar, how "the court of augustus thus became a school of culture, where men of genius acquired that delicacy of taste, elevation of sentiment, and purity of expression which characterize the writers of the age." = = . =petrarch.= does macaulay imply that petrarch is one of "the great restorers of learning"? see _renaissance_ in _the century dictionary_ and harper's _dictionary of classical literature and antiquities_. note that petrarch "may be said to have rediscovered greek, which for some six centuries had been lost to the western world." keep in mind, too, that his friend and disciple, boccaccio, translated homer into latin. = = . =pembroke college.= the university of oxford consists of twenty-one colleges which together form a corporate body. the colleges are "endowed by their founders and others with estates and benefices; out of the revenue arising from the estates, as well as other resources, the heads and senior and junior members _on the foundation_ receive an income, and the expenses of the colleges are defrayed. members _not on the foundation_, called 'independent members,' reside entirely at their own expense." among the members _on the foundation_ are the heads, fellows, and scholars. = = - . =macrobius.= a roman grammarian who probably lived at the beginning of the fifth century. = = . =about three years.= apparently johnson remained at oxford only fourteen months. see dr. hill's _dr. johnson, his friends and his critics_. = = - . "it was bitterness which they mistook for frolic. i was miserably poor, and i thought to fight my way by my literature and my wit; so i disregarded all power and all authority."--johnson, quoted by boswell. although aware of what he considered the defects of his college, johnson loved pembroke as long as he lived. he delighted in boasting of its eminent graduates and would have left to it his house at lichfield had not wiser friends induced him to bequeath it to some poor relatives. = = - . =his father died.= "i now therefore see that i must make my own fortune. meanwhile let me take care that the powers of my mind be not debilitated by poverty, and that indigence do not force me into any criminal act."--johnson, quoted by boswell. = = . =walmesley.= "i am not able to name a man of equal knowledge. his acquaintance with books was great, and what he did not immediately know, he could, at least, tell where to find."--johnson, quoted by boswell. = = . =politian.= another of "the great restorers of learning" (see = = ). his beginning of a translation of the _iliad_ into latin attracted the attention of lorenzo de' medici, under whose patronage he became one of the first scholars of italy. = = . =fell in love.= boswell says that johnson's early attachments to the fair sex were "very transient," and considers it but natural that when the passion of love once seized him it should be exceedingly strong, concentrated as it was in one object. = = . =queensberrys and lepels.= families of high rank in england. = = - . =half ludicrous.= carlyle says it is no matter for ridicule that the man "whose look all men both laughed at and shuddered at, should find any brave female heart, to acknowledge, at first sight and hearing of him, 'this is the most sensible man i ever met with'; and then, with generous courage, to take him to itself, and say be thou mine!... johnson's deathless affection for his tetty was always venerable and noble." = = - . at edial. although this enterprise did not prosper, the man, as carlyle says, "was to become a teacher of grown gentlemen, in the most surprising way; a man of letters, and ruler of the british nation for some time,--not of their bodies merely, but of their minds; not over them, but _in_ them." = = . =david garrick.= the mere fact that this celebrated actor and successful manager brought out twenty-four of shakspere's plays is reason enough why we should look him up. a slight knowledge of his career enables one to enjoy all the more the frequent references to him in boswell's _life of johnson_. after reading the sketch in the _encyclopædia britannica_ it would be a good plan to read boswell's references consecutively by means of the index. = = . =fielding.= for an enjoyable short sketch of the first great english novelist, see thackeray's _english humourists_. = = . =the beggar's opera=, by john gay, appeared in . = = . =knot.= see _the century dictionary_. = = . =drury lane.= a street in the heart of the city, near the strand,--one of the chief thoroughfares. it was beginning to lose its old-time respectability. = = . =the sight of food.= once when boswell was giving a dinner and one of the company was late, boswell proposed to order dinner to be served, adding, "'ought six people to be kept waiting for one?' 'why, yes,' answered johnson, with a delicate humanity, 'if the one will suffer more by your sitting down than the six will do by waiting.'" is it probable that macaulay exaggerates? = = . =harleian library.= the library collected by robert harley, first earl of oxford. osborne afterwards bought it and johnson did some of the cataloguing for him. as to osborne's punishment, boswell says: "the simple truth i had from johnson himself. 'sir, he was impertinent to me, and i beat him. but it was not in his shop: it was in my own chamber.'" = = . =blefuscu, mildendo.= if blefuscu and mildendo look unfamiliar, go to lilliput for them. (see _gulliver's travels_.) = = . "johnson told me, that as soon as he found that the speeches were thought genuine, he determined that he would write no more of them; for he 'would not be accessory to the propagation of falsehood.'"--boswell. = = . cf. _the traveller_. do you suppose that either johnson or goldsmith really believed that one form of government is as good as another? = = . =montagues.= see shakspere's _romeo and juliet_. _ _ . =greens.= in roman chariot races there was the bitterest rivalry between the different colors of the factions, and the betting often led to scenes of riot and bloodshed. once in justinian's reign, in the great circus at constantinople, the tumult was not suppressed till about thirty thousand of the rioters had been killed. see gibbon, _decline and fall_, chapter xl. = = . =sacheverell.= what do you gather from the context about this preacher? was he high church? did he preach resistance to the king? = = . =tom tempest.= see johnson's _idler_, no. . = = . =laud.= read in gardiner's _student's history of england_ the account of this archbishop who tried to enforce uniformity of worship. = = - . =hampden, falkland, clarendon.= in the case of these three statesmen, as well as in the case of laud, the context shows which of them were supporters of charles i and which resisted him. does macaulay imply that johnson would have been excusable if he had sympathized with hampden's refusal to pay "ship money"? = = . =roundheads.= if you do not know why they were so called, see _the century dictionary_. = = - . =great rebellion.= if in doubt as to which rebellion macaulay refers, see _the century dictionary_ or brewer's _dictionary of phrase and fable_. = = , , . =juvenal.= dryden has translated five of the poems of this great roman satirist. it is worth while to compare johnson's _london_, a free imitation of the third satire, with dryden's version. johnson's poem may be found in hales's _longer english poems_. = = . boswell, too, asks us to remember pope's candor and liberal conduct on this occasion. let us not forget it. = = . =psalmanazar.= pretending to be a japanese, this frenchman wrote what he called a _history of formosa_. although fabulous, it deceived the learned world. = = - . =blue ribands.= worn by members of the order of the garter. = = . =newgate.= the notorious london prison. = = . =piazza= here has its first meaning,--"an open square in a town surrounded by buildings or colonnades, a plaza." this space was once the "convent" garden of the monks of westminster. for a brief sketch of it down to the time its "coffee houses and taverns became the fashionable lounging-places for the authors, wits, and noted men of the kingdom," see _the century dictionary_. = = - . =grub street.= "originally the name of a street in moorfields in london, much inhabited by writers of small histories, dictionaries, and temporary poems; whence any mean production is called _grubstreet_. 'i'd sooner ballads write, and _grubstreet_ lays.' gay." --johnson's _dictionary_, edition of . = = . =warburton.= bishop warburton thus praised johnson in the preface to his own edition of _shakspere_, and johnson showed his appreciation by saying to boswell, "he praised me at a time when praise was of value to me." on another occasion, when asked whether he considered warburton a superior critic to theobald, he replied, "he'd make two-and-fifty theobalds, cut into slices!" johnson's sketch of him, in the _life of pope_, boswell calls "the tribute due to him when he was no longer in 'high place,' but numbered with the dead." = = - . he employed six amanuenses, not a large number of assistants for a task of such magnitude. nor was the sum of fifteen hundred guineas a generous one from which to pay these assistants. = = . =chesterfield.= every young man should read an abridged edition of chesterfield's _letters to his son_; for example, the volume in the knickerbocker nugget series. it contains much that is worth remembering, and the style is entertaining. = = . it is hard to realize what a stupendous task johnson undertook when he began his dictionary. other dictionaries, notably bailey's, were in existence, but they were mere beginnings of what he had in mind. as lists of words, with explanations of the meanings, they were useful, but none of them could reasonably be considered a standard. a standard johnson's certainly was. although no etymologist, in general he not only gave full and clear definitions, but he chose remarkably happy illustrations of the meanings of words. by taking care, also, to select passages which were interesting and profitable reading as well as elegant english, he succeeded in making probably the most readable dictionary that has ever appeared. = = . for the _vanity of human wishes_, see hales's _longer english poems_ or syle's _from milton to tennyson_. as in the case of _london_, the student will wish to compare dryden's translation. = = - . and this was eleven years after the _london_ had appeared; as boswell says, his fame was already established. = = . =goodman's fields.= garrick made this theater successful. = = . =drury lane theatre.= near drury lane. (see note to = = .) other prominent actors in this famous old theatre were kean, the kembles, and mrs. siddons. = = . see page . the story on which _irene_ is based is as follows:-- mahomet the great, first emperor of the turks, in the year laid siege to the city of constantinople, then possessed by the greeks, and, after an obstinate resistance, took and sacked it. among the many young women whom the commanders thought fit to lay hands on and present to him was one named irene, a greek, of incomparable beauty and such rare perfection of body and mind, that the emperor, becoming enamored of her, neglected the care of his government and empire for two whole years, and thereby so exasperated the janizaries, that they mutinied and threatened to dethrone him. to prevent this mischief, mustapha bassa, a person of great credit with him, undertook to represent to him the great danger to which he lay exposed by the indulgence of his passion: he called to his remembrance the character, actions, and achievements of his predecessors, and the state of his government; and, in short, so roused him from his lethargy, that he took a horrible resolution to silence the clamors of his people by the sacrifice of this admirable creature. accordingly, he commanded her to be dressed and adorned in the richest manner that she and her attendants could devise, and against a certain hour issued orders for the nobility and leaders of his army to attend him in the great hall of his palace. when they were all assembled, himself appeared with great pomp and magnificence, leading his captive by the hand, unconscious of guilt and ignorant of his design. with a furious and menacing look, he gave the beholders to understand that he meant to remove the cause of their discontent; but bade them first view that lady, whom he held with his left hand, and say whether any of them, possessed of a jewel so rare and precious, would for any cause forego her; to which they answered that he had great reason for his affection toward her. to this the emperor replied that he would convince them that he was yet master of himself. and having so said, presently, with one of his hands catching the fair greek by the hair of the head, and drawing his falchion with the other, he, at one blow, struck off her head, to the great terror of them all; and having so done, he said unto them, "now by this judge whether your emperor is able to bridle his affections or not."--hawkins's _life of johnson_. = = - . =tatler, spectator.= it is to be hoped that the reader needs no introduction to these papers or to the account of them in macaulay's essay on addison. = = . =rambler.= a suitable title for a series of moral discourses? at the time of the undertaking he composed a prayer to the effect that he might in this way promote the glory of almighty god and the salvation both of himself and others.--_prayers and meditations_, p. , quoted by boswell. = = - . boswell considers it a strong confirmation of the truth of johnson's remark that "a man may write at any time if he will set himself doggedly to it," that "notwithstanding his constitutional indolence, his depression of spirits, and his labour in carrying on his dictionary, he answered the stated calls of the press twice a week from the stores of his mind during all that time." = = . =richardson.= samuel richardson. when he was a boy, the girls employed him to write love letters for them; and his novels, written in after life, also took the form of letters. he wrote _pamela, or virtue rewarded_; _clarissa harlowe, or the history of a young lady_; and _the history of sir charles grandison_ (about ). johnson called him "an author who has enlarged the knowledge of human nature and taught the passions to move at the command of virtue." = = . =young.= johnson held a high opinion of edward young's most famous work, _night thoughts_, and boswell writes, "no book whatever can be recommended to young persons, with better hopes of seasoning their minds with _vital religion_, than young's _night thoughts_."--=hartley.= david hartley, prominent as a psychologist, and as a physician benevolent and studious. for intimate friends he chose such men as warburton and young. = = . =dodington.= a member of parliament who patronized men of letters and was complimented by young and fielding. = = . =frederic.= when frederick, prince of wales, became the center of the opposition to walpole, in , among the leaders of his political friends, called "the leicester house party,"--at that time leicester house was the residence of the prince of wales,--were chesterfield, william pitt, and bubb dodington. = = . in regard to the use of antiquated and hard words, for which johnson was censured, he says in _idler_ no. , "he that thinks with more extent than another, will want words of larger meaning." = = - . =brilliancy ... eloquence ... humour.= johnson wrote many of these discourses so hastily, says boswell, that he did not even read them over before they were printed. boswell continues: "sir joshua reynolds once asked him by what means he had attained his extraordinary accuracy and flow of language. he told him, that he had early laid it down as a fixed rule to do his best on every occasion, and in every company: to impart whatever he knew in the most forcible language he could put it in; and that by constant practice, and never suffering any careless expressions to escape him, or attempting to deliver his thoughts without arranging them in the clearest manner, it became habitual to him." one man who knew johnson intimately observed "that he always talked as if he was talking upon oath." = = -= = . cf. johnson's comment: "whoever wishes to attain an english style, familiar but not coarse, and elegant but not ostentatious, must give his days and nights to the volumes of addison."--boswell, . = = - . =sir roger=, etc. these two sets of allusions offer a good excuse for handling complete editions of the _spectator_ and the _rambler_. = = . =the gunnings.= "the beautiful misses gunning," two sisters, were born in ireland. they went to london in , were continually followed by crowds, and were called "the handsomest women alive."--=lady mary.= lady mary wortley montagu. let one of the encyclopædias introduce you to this relative of fielding who laughed at pope when he made love to her, and whose wit had full play in the brilliant letters from constantinople which added greatly to her reputation as an independent thinker. = = - . =the monthly review.= this whig periodical would not appeal to johnson as did its rival, the _critical review_. it was the _monthly_ that goldsmith did hack work for. smollett wrote for the other. see irving's _life of goldsmith_, chapter vii. = = . it was published in , price £ _s._, bound. = = . the letter, which needs no comment, is as follows: february , . to the right honourable the earl of chesterfield. my lord, i have been lately informed, by the proprietor of the world, that two papers, in which my dictionary is recommended to the publick, were written by your lordship. to be so distinguished, is an honour, which, being very little accustomed to favours from the great, i know not well how to receive, or in what terms to acknowledge. when, upon some slight encouragement, i first visited your lordship, i was overpowered, like the rest of mankind, by the enchantment of your address; and could not forbear to wish that i might boast myself _le vainqueur du vainqueur de la terre_;--that i might obtain that regard for which i saw the world contending; but i found my attendance so little encouraged that neither pride nor modesty would suffer me to continue it. when i had once addressed your lordship in publick, i had exhausted all the art of pleasing which a retired and uncourtly scholar can possess. i have done all that i could; and no man is well pleased to have his all neglected, be it ever so little. seven years, my lord, have now past, since i waited in your outward rooms or was repulsed from your door; during which time i have been pushing on my work through difficulties, of which it is useless to complain, and have brought it, at last, to the verge of publication, without one act of assistance, one word of encouragement, or one smile of favour. such treatment i did not expect, for i never had a patron before. the shepherd in virgil grew at last acquainted with love, and found him a native of the rocks. is not a patron, my lord, one who looks with unconcern on a man struggling for life in the water, and, when he has reached ground, encumbers him with help? the notice which you have been pleased to take of my labours, had it been early, had been kind; but it has been delayed till i am indifferent, and cannot enjoy it; till i am solitary, and cannot impart it; till i am known, and do not want it. i hope it is no very cynical asperity not to confess obligations where no benefit has been received, or to be unwilling that the publick should consider me as owing that to a patron, which providence has enabled me to do for myself. having carried on my work thus far with so little obligation to any favourer of learning, i shall not be disappointed though i should conclude it, if less be possible, with less; for i have been long wakened from that dream of hope, in which i once boasted myself with so much exultation, my lord, your lordship's most humble, most obedient servant, sam. johnson. = = . =horne tooke.= a name assumed by john horne, a politician and philologist whose career is briefly outlined in _the century dictionary_. the passage which so moved him follows. in this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed; and though no book was ever spared out of tenderness to the authour, and the world is little solicitous to know whence proceeded the faults of that which it condemns; yet it may gratify curiosity to inform it that the _english dictionary_ was written with little assistance of the learned, and without any patronage of the great; not in the soft obscurities of retirement, or under the shelter of academick bowers, but amidst inconvenience and distraction, in sickness and in sorrow. it may repress the triumph of malignant criticism to observe, that if our language is not here fully displayed, i have only failed in an attempt which no human powers have hitherto completed. if the lexicons of ancient tongues, now immutably fixed, and comprised in a few volumes, be yet, after the toil of successive ages, inadequate and delusive; if the aggregated knowledge, and co-operating diligence of the _italian_ academicians, did not secure them from the censure of _beni_; if the embodied criticks of _france_, when fifty years had been spent upon their work, were obliged to change its oeconomy, and give their second edition another form, i may surely be contented without the praise of perfection, which, if i could obtain, in this gloom of solitude, what would it avail me? i have protracted my work till most of those whom i wished to please have sunk into the grave, and success and miscarriage are empty sounds: i therefore dismiss it with frigid tranquillity, having little to fear or hope from censure or from praise. this extract is taken from the fourth edition, london, mdcclxxiii, the last to receive johnson's corrections. if you possibly can get the opportunity, turn these volumes over enough to find a few of the whimsical definitions, such, for example, as that of lexicographer, according to johnson "a writer of dictionaries, a _harmless drudge_." other words worth looking up are _excise_, _oats_, and _networks_. = = . =junius and skinner.= johnson frankly admitted that for etymologies he turned to the shelf which contained the etymological dictionaries of these seventeenth-century students of the teutonic languages. this phase of dictionary making was not considered so deeply then as it is now. = = . =spunging-houses.= johnson's _dictionary_ says: "spunging-house. a house to which debtors are taken before commitment to prison, where the bailiffs sponge upon them, or riot at their cost." = = . =jenyns.= this writer, who, according to boswell, "could very happily play with a light subject," ventured so far beyond his depth that it was easy for johnson to expose him. = = . =rasselas.= had johnson written nothing else, says boswell, _rasselas_ "would have rendered his name immortal in the world of literature.... it has been translated into most, if not all, of the modern languages." = = . =miss lydia languish.= of course plays are not necessarily written to be read, but sheridan's well-known comedy, _the rivals_, is decidedly readable. every one should be familiar with miss languish and mrs. malaprop. = = . =bruce.= the _dictionary of national biography_ says that james bruce--whose _travels to discover the sources of the nile_, five volumes, appeared in --"will always remain the poet, and his work the epic, of african travel." = = . =mrs. lennox.= a woman whose literary efforts johnson encouraged so much as he did mrs. lennox's is certainly worth looking up in the index to boswell's _johnson_.--=mrs. sheridan=, the dramatist's mother, gave johnson many an entertaining evening in her home. she and her son entered heartily into the lively, stimulating conversations he loved. = = . =hector ... aristotle.= the sacking of troy is generally assigned to the twelfth century b.c. aristotle lived eight centuries later.--=julio romano.= an italian painter of the fifteenth century. = = . =the lord privy seal.= some documents require only the privy seal; others must have the great seal too. for johnson's admission that the printer was wise in striking out the reference alluded to, see the index to boswell's _johnson_, under _gower_. = = . =oxford.= by recalling what macaulay said in the early part of the essay (= = , ) about oxford, and by bearing in mind what house [of stuart? of hanover?] george the third belonged to, one sees point to "was becoming loyal." = = - . study these four short sentences in connection with the preceding sentence beginning "george the third." to what extent are they a repetition? to what extent an explanation? = = . =accepted.= when, in answer to johnson's question to lord bute, "pray, my lord, what am i expected to do for this pension?" he received the ready reply, "it is not given you for anything you are to do, but for what you have done," he hesitated no longer. three hundred a year was a large sum in johnson's eyes at that time. whether he wrote less than he would have written without it may be questioned, says mr. hill, but he adds that probably "without the pension he would not have lived to write the second greatest of his works--the _lives of the poets_." = = . =a ghost ... cock lane.= if you will read boswell's account of the affair, you will probably conclude that johnson was not quite so "weak" as macaulay implies. = = . =churchill.= one of the reigning wits of the day, boswell says. = = . =the preface.= other critics speak with more enthusiasm of the good sense and the clear expression of the preface, and find that these qualities are not altogether lacking in the notes. = = . =wilhelm meister.= the hero of goethe's novel of the same name. you may have read this passage on _hamlet_ in rolfe's edition (p. ), quoted from furness's _hamlet_, vol. ii, pp. ff. sprague also quotes it in his edition, p. . = = . =ben.= the eighteenth-century johnson has been followed by the nineteenth-century critics in putting a high estimate on the jonson who wrote _every man in his humor_. we are told that shakspere took one of the parts in this play, acted in . if you are not satisfied with the account in _the century dictionary_, or with any encyclopædia article, see _the english poets_, edited by t. h. ward, vol. ii (the macmillan company). = = - . =Æschylus, euripides, sophocles.= three great contemporary greek tragedians. = = . =fletcher.= point out why an editor of shakspere's plays should be familiar with the work of this group of elizabethan dramatists. = = . =royal academy.= "his majesty having the preceding year [ ] instituted the royal academy of arts in london, johnson had won the honour of being appointed professor in ancient literature."--boswell. goldsmith was professor in ancient history in the same institution, and boswell was secretary for foreign correspondence. look in _the century dictionary_ under _academy_, the third meaning, and recall whatever you may have heard or read about the french academy. = = . =the king.= "his majesty expressed a desire to have the literary biography of this country ably executed, and proposed to dr. johnson to undertake it."--boswell. read boswell's account of the interview. in consulting the index look under _george iii._ = = . =colloquial talents.= madame d'arblay once said that johnson had about him more "fun, and comical humour, and love of nonsense" than almost anybody else she ever saw. = = . =goldsmith.= macaulay's article on goldsmith in _the encyclopædia britannica_ is short, and so thoroughly readable that there is no excuse for not being familiar with it. boswell is continually giving interesting glimpses of dr. oliver goldsmith, and by taking advantage of the index in the _life of johnson_ one may in half an hour learn a great deal about this remarkable man. according to boswell, "he had sagacity enough to cultivate assiduously the acquaintance of johnson, and his faculties were gradually enlarged by the contemplation of such a model." = = . =reynolds.= we can learn from short articles about sir joshua's career, but the index to boswell's _johnson_ will introduce us to the good times the great portrait painter had with the great conversationalist whom we are studying. reynolds was the first proposer of the club, and "there seems to have been hardly a day," says robina napier, "when these friends did not meet in the painting room or in general society." ruskin says, "titian paints nobler pictures and vandyke had nobler subjects, but neither of them entered so subtly as sir joshua did into the minor varieties of human heart and temper." the business of his art "was not to criticise, but to observe," and for this purpose the hours he spent at the club might be as profitable as those spent in his painting room. it will be interesting to make a list of some of the most notable "subjects" reynolds painted.--=burke.= be sure to read boswell's account of the famous round robin. it will make you feel better acquainted with burke, johnson, reynolds, and goldsmith. the student will find valuable material in professor lamont's edition of burke's _speech on conciliation with america_, published by ginn & company. = = . =gibbon.= you noticed on the _round robin_ the autograph of the author of _the history of the decline and fall of the roman empire_? = = . =jones.= sir william henry rich jones was "the first english scholar to master sanskrit, and to recognize its importance for comparative philology," says _the century dictionary_. = = . =johnson's club.= the club still flourishes. both scott and macaulay belonged to it. = = . =james boswell.= "out of the fifteen millions that then lived, and had bed and board, in the british islands, this man has provided us a greater _pleasure_ than any other individual, at whose cost we now enjoy ourselves; perhaps has done us a greater _service_ than can be specially attributed to more than two or three: yet, ungrateful that we are, no written or spoken eulogy of james boswell anywhere exists; his recompense in solid pudding (so far as copyright went) was not excessive; and as for the empty praise, it has altogether been denied him. men are unwiser than children; they do not know the hand that feeds." so carlyle writes of the man; the book, he says, is "beyond any other product of the eighteenth century"; it draws aside the curtains of the past and gives us a picture which changeful time cannot harm or hide. the picture charms generation after generation because it is true. "it is not speaking with exaggeration, but with strict measured sobriety, to say that this book of boswell's will give us more real insight into the _history of england_ during those days than twenty other books, falsely entitled 'histories,' which take to themselves that special aim.... the thing i want to see is not redbook lists, and court calendars, and parliamentary registers, but the life of man in england: what men did, thought, suffered, enjoyed; the form, especially the spirit, of their terrestrial existence, its outward environment, its inward principle; _how_ and _what_ it was; whence it proceeded, whither it was tending.... "hence, indeed, comes it that history, which should be 'the essence of innumerable biographies,' will tell us, question it as we like, less than one genuine biography may do, pleasantly and of its own accord!" mr. leslie stephen says that "macaulay's graphic description of his absurdities, and carlyle's more penetrating appreciation of his higher qualities, contain all that can be said"; but the more recent testimony of dr. george b. hill, in _dr. johnson, his friends and his critics_, should count for something. dr. hill points out that while macaulay grants boswell immortality he refuses him greatness, and calls attention to what he considers elements of greatness. in regard to the accuracy of a biographer who would "run half over london, in order to fix a date correctly," he says: "that love, i might almost say that passion for accuracy, that distinguished boswell in so high a degree does not belong to a mind that is either mean or feeble. mean minds are indifferent to truth, and feeble minds can see no importance in a date." = = . =wilkes.= john wilkes, a notorious politician, was imprisoned for writing an article in which he attacked george the third. the liberty of the press was involved and wilkes was released, much to the delight of the people. for a brief summary of the bill of rights, see brewer's _historic note-book_ or _a handbook of english political history_, by acland and ransome. = = . =whitfield.= macaulay's short sentence implies, does it not, that whitfield (or whitefield) was a noisy, open-air preacher among the calvinistic methodists? in testing the accuracy of this inference in _the encyclopædia britannica_ or in franklin's _autobiography_, note in what countries whitefield preached, and where he died. boswell quotes johnson's opinion of whitefield in two places. = = . =in a happy hour.= may , . by all means read boswell's account of the rough reception he received and the persistence necessary to secure the fastening. = = . =pity ... esteem.= the thrales were not alone in overlooking these oddities. "his tricks and contortions, a subject for pity not ridicule," says mr. hoste, "were ignored by the celebrated wits and beauties who visited him in his gloomy 'den,' and by the duchesses and other distinguished ladies who gathered 'four and five deep' around him at fashionable assemblies, hanging on his sentences, and contended for the nearest places to his chair." = = . =southwark.= south of the commercial center of london and across the thames. = = . =streatham.= about five miles southwest of london city. the southwark apartment was in a commercial district; the streatham apartment in a thinly settled residential suburb. = = . =maccaroni.= see _the century dictionary_ or brewer's _handbook of phrase and fable_. = = . =levett.= of levett, goldsmith said to boswell, "he is poor and honest, which is recommendation enough to johnson." = = . =the mitre tavern.= "the mitre tavern still stands in fleet street: but where now is its scot-and-lot paying, beef-and-ale loving, cock-hatted, potbellied landlord; its rosy-faced, assiduous landlady, with all her shining brass-pans, waxed tables, well-filled larder-shelves; her cooks, and bootjacks, and errand-boys, and watery-mouthed hangers-on? gone! gone! the becking waiter, that with wreathed smiles was wont to spread for samuel and bozzy their 'supper of the gods,' has long since pocketed his last sixpence; and vanished, six-pences and all, like a ghost at cockcrowing." yet, carlyle goes on to say, thanks to this book of boswell's, "they who are gone are still here; though hidden they are revealed, though dead they yet speak." = = . =hebrides.= locate these picturesque islands on the map. = = . =lord mansfield.= william murray, chief justice of the king's bench from to , has been called "the founder of english commercial law." = = . =macpherson.= in james macpherson published what purported to be fragments of gaelic verse with translations. these were so interesting that he was sent to the highlands to hunt for more, and within three years he published the _poems of ossian_, consisting of two epics, "fingal" and "temora." their genuineness has been discussed ever since. evidently johnson settled the matter to his own satisfaction and to macaulay's, and you may be interested in what boswell has to say. at the same time it seems clear that johnson went too far in his charge of forgery. macpherson probably did not find a complete epic, yet he undoubtedly found some gaelic poetry. = = . =contemptuous terms.= boswell gives the following letter: mr. james macpherson, i received your foolish and impudent letter. any violence offered me i shall do my best to repel; and what i cannot do for myself, the law shall do for me. i hope i shall not be deterred from detecting what i think a cheat, by the menaces of a ruffian. what would you have me retract? i thought your book an imposture; i think it an imposture still. for this opinion i have given my reasons to the publick, which i here dare you to refute. your rage i defy. your abilities, since your homer, are not so formidable; and what i hear of your morals, inclines me to pay regard not to what you shall say, but to what you shall prove. you may print this if you will. sam. johnson. = = - . =the kenricks, campbells, macnicols, and hendersons.= if johnson and macaulay do not tell enough about these men, boswell does. = = . =bentley.= richard bentley ( - ), a well-known english classical scholar and critic. = = . =taxation no tyranny.= the rest of the title is _an answer to the resolutions and address of the american congress_. = = . =wilson.= richard wilson was one of the greatest english landscape painters, says _the dictionary of national biography_. = = . =cowley.= the man who wrote god the first garden made, and the first city cain. = = . =restoration.= the _international dictionary_ offers a brief explanation in case you are not absolutely certain of the exact meaning. = = . =walmesley.= see note to = = .--=button's.= button's coffeehouse flourished earlier in the century. do you remember any other reference to it? to will's? to child's?--=cibber.= colley cibber, actor and dramatist, altered and adapted some of shakspere's plays. both johnson and boswell express their opinions of him frankly enough. he was appointed poet laureate in . = = . =orrery.= orrery did more than enjoy this privilege,--he wrote a book entitled _remarks on the life and writings of jonathan swift_. boswell records johnson's opinion of it. what other great literary men enjoyed the society of swift? _the century dictionary_ gives a column to swift, and johnson has a sketch in his _lives of the poets_. = = . =services of no very honourable kind.= by supplying pope with private intelligence for his _dunciad_ he "gained the esteem of pope and the enmity of his victims." = = . =malone.= edmund malone was a friend of johnson, burke, and reynolds. he wrote a supplement to johnson's edition of shakspere, published an edition of reynolds's works, and after bringing out his own edition of shakspere, left material for another edition, which was published by james boswell the younger in . boswell's _malone_, the "third variorum" edition, is generally considered the best. to boswell the elder, an intimate friend, he was of much assistance in preparing the _life of johnson_, and he edited with valuable notes the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth reissues of the work. = = - . =in a solemn and tender prayer.= almighty god, father of all mercy, help me by thy grace, that i may, with humble and sincere thankfulness, remember the comforts and conveniences which i have enjoyed at this place; and that i may resign them with holy submission, equally trusting in thy protection when thou givest, and when thou takest away. have mercy upon me, o lord, have mercy upon me. to thy fatherly protection, o lord, i commend this family. bless, guide, and defend them, that they may so pass through this world, as finally to enjoy in thy presence everlasting happiness, for jesus christ's sake, amen.--boswell's _johnson_. = = . =italian fiddler.= a violinist of much talent. piozzi was the music master from brescia who, a little over three years after mr. thrale's death, married the widow. after learning what you can from boswell, you will enjoy some such account as the _encyclopædia britannica_ offers. while doing your reading it may be well to keep in mind what two or three critics have said. mr. mowbray morris writes: "after all the abuse showered on the unfortunate woman it is pleasant to know that the marriage proved a happy one in every respect. piozzi, who was really a well-mannered, amiable man, took every care of his wife's fortune, and on their return to england her family and friends were soon reconciled to him." mr. leslie stephen says: "her love of piozzi, which was both warm and permanent, is the most amiable feature of her character." mr. herbert paul, after praising macaulay's _life of johnson_, adds, "yet, if i may say so, i can never forgive macaulay for his cruel and unaccountable injustice to mrs. thrale." = = . =the ephesian matron.= she cared so much for her husband that she went into the vault to die with him, and there, in the midst of her violent grief, fell in love with a soldier who was guarding some dead bodies near by. for the story (told by a latin writer, petronius), see jeremy taylor's _the rule and exercises of holy dying_, chapter v, section .--=the two pictures.= in act iii. = = . =burke parted from him.= after twenty-seven years of uninterrupted friendship with johnson, says robina napier.--=windham.= the right hon. william windham, a member of the club, a friend of malone, burke, fox, and pitt; in secretary at war (pitt's ministry), in war and colonial secretary (lord grenville's ministry); in the words of macaulay, "the first gentleman of his age, the ingenious, the chivalrous, the high-souled windham." johnson wrote him appreciative letters in august and october, . see boswell. = = . =frances burney.= in macaulay's essay on madame d'arblay, he says: "her appearance is an important epoch in our literary history. evelina was the first tale written by a woman, and purporting to be a picture of life and manners, that lived or deserved to live." read this account of the "timid and obscure girl" who suddenly "found herself on the highest pinnacle of fame," eulogized by such men as burke, windham, gibbon, reynolds, and sheridan. = = . =langton.= see page . = = - . =his temper.= in connection with this closing sentence let us remember a paragraph from boswell ( ): "that he was occasionally remarkable for violence of temper may be granted: but let us ascertain the degree, and not let it be supposed that he was in a perpetual rage, and never without a club in his hand to knock down every one who approached him. on the contrary, the truth is, that by much the greatest part of his time he was civil, obliging, nay, polite in the true sense of the word; so much so, that many gentlemen who were long acquainted with him never received, or even heard a strong expression from him." footnotes: [ ] trevelyan, _life and letters_, i, . [ ] trevelyan, i, . [ ] the entire letter is interesting. see trevelyan, i, . the letters of this period are particularly attractive. [ ] _ibid._ i, . [ ] trevelyan, i, . the letters from college are well worth reading. [ ] trevelyan, i, . [ ] _ibid._, . [ ] trevelyan, i, - . [ ] trevelyan, i, . [ ] _ibid._, ii, . [ ] trevelyan, ii, . [ ] _carlyle's essay on burns_, p. , ginn's edition. [ ] trevelyan, ii. . [ ] for trevelyan's evidence, see ii, . [ ] trevelyan, ii, . [ ] _ibid._, . [ ] trevelyan, ii, . [ ] _the quarterly review_, july, . [ ] it is proper to observe that this passage bears a very close resemblance to a passage in the rambler (no. ). the resemblance may possibly be the effect of unconscious plagiarism.--_macaulay._ transcriber's notes: punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed. simple typographical errors were corrected. to preserve line numbers on pages - , each line on those pages is shown here as it appeared in the original book, with two exceptions: to make the text searchable, words originally split across two lines have been made whole by moving them to one or the other of those lines; and a few words have been moved to adjacent lines so they would not extend into the area reserved for line numbers.